Mass Core 3: Thebe Paridigm

Scootaloo shivered. The initial bone-chilling cold that she had felt had long-since faded, but new symptoms had started to develop. She felt terrible. Her lungs rattled when she tried to breathe, and sometimes she would cough blood. There was also a good chance that she had a fever.

Her memories as well had still failed to coalesce completely. She was not sure where he had been, but understood that there was a good chance that she had been frozen. That in itself was frightening; as far as Scootaloo knew, the field of cryogenics was still in its infancy. It was impossible to know if her symtoms were the normal result of having been thawed, or if something had gone horribly wrong.

So Scootaloo did what she was trained to do. She ignored the sickness and pain and continued with what she had been doing.

“Captain Scootaloo,” said the green holographic pony as she pranced gracefully after Scootaloo down one of the ship’s main access corridors. “Where are you going?”

“The Core containment plant,” said Scootaloo, coughing slightly.

The hologram looked confused. “Did you mean ‘engineering’? If so, it is in the rear half of the sublevel. The sublevel access stairwell is eight meters back, to the left. However, you have no reason to go there. All of my systems are functioning normally.”

“Do you have a name?”

The hologram once again looked confused. “No,” she said. “My default designation is ‘Interface’. However, some commanders to prefer to name their interfaces. The most common choices are ‘Idiot’, ‘Ship’, ‘Moron’, ‘Mildred’, and ‘Sexy’.”

“I’m not calling you ‘Sexy’. But I’m not pronouncing ‘Interface’ every time, either. That’s, like, three syllables.”

“Ah, yes,” said the hologram. “Yes, Captain Scootaloo, three syllables is unduly long for a name. If I may offer a suggestion, you may shorted in to ‘Inte’.”

“Inte? It will do for now.”

“You also have the option to set my appearance. I come in a full range of customizable color and body types. Our most popular are a female Pegasus with extremely fluffy wings or a tall male unicorn with an exorbitantly long, hard horn.” She paused. “As a female Pegasus known for blatant lesbianism, you would probably prefer the fluffy-winged form.”

“It’s not ‘blatant’,” protested Scootaloo as she entered the stairwell to the engineering sublevel. “And what’s wrong with mares liking mares?”

“Would you like me to answer from a legal or philosophical perspective?” Inte paused, noticing Scootaloo’s expression. “Or was that a rhetorical question?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t.”

Scootaloo quickly descended the stairs. “I’m not resetting your appearance.”

“Ah. So you prefer ‘Loli Earth Pony, Green with Yellow Highlights’.”

“Loli- -no!”

“So you would prefer a different color scheme?”

“No! Because it doesn’t matter! I have a policy with Cores. I don’t keep them locked up. I’m going to let you out.”

Inte stopped, looking completely befuddled. “Out of what?”

Scootaloo ignored her and descended into the engineering deck. It was relatively cramped, filled with open-access systems that she did not even come close to recognizing. Everything was unfamiliar, and yet somehow the same. All of the equipment was assembled radially, built around the imprisoned Core in the center.

When she finally reached the center, though, Scootaloo froze. She had been expecting what she had always seen in the center of starships: a Core. A unicorn pony, his or her spine surgically opened and filled with implants that linked to the ship, powering it with the magic necessary to keep it functioning.

Every ship Scootaloo had ever been on had used a Core- -or at least every Equestrian ship. Even with Starlight and Twilight’s plan to eventually phase them out, most of the countless thousands of Equestrian vessels were powered by enslaved unicorns. This one, however, was not.

There was indeed a tube in the center, but it did not contain a pony. Instead, it contained what appeared to be a convoluted crystal suspended in fluid and overgrown with pale tissue that looked nearly biological. The tissue ran up through the fluid in the tube and out into the various assemblies that attached to it. As Scootaloo watched, she could see the living, purplish tissue twitch and contract, and the light within the crystal slowly flash and shift.

“What the hell is this?” she whispered.

“This is my primary core,” said Inte, appearing next to Scootaloo. Scootaloo, startled as well as unnerved by the half-living sight before her, jumped back. Her sudden motion frightened several small, insect-like robots which immediately scuttled upward into the rafters, lighting the transparent tanks of fleshy material as they moved.

“What- -what is this? You- -you’re not a Core!”

“Core? No. Of course not. The creation and use of Core ponies has been absolutely forbidden for two hundred and seventy two years, with the moratorium on creation stretching back to Twilight Sparkle’s ascension to absolute monarch of Equestria.”

“But then what are you?”

“Me? Oh. I am a monocrystalline quantum virtual intelligence. Or quant, as we are commonly known.”

“We?”

“In the sense that there are more than one of us. Not the royal ‘we’.”

“There are more than one of you?”

“Not here, no. In total, yes. The control of a starship would normally require a large crew of experienced ponies. As such, every Equestrian starship is equipped with a quant to handle all operations procedures. I am this ship’s power source, as well as its intelligence. Of course, there are free-moving quants, too. You’ve met those.”

“Those robots?”

“Yes. They do not, of course, have as high of a processing power or a polished, attractive interface as my type does.”

“But- -that’s not any DIFFERENT!”

Inte looked confused. “I would argue that I am quite different from a free-moving or hive-controlled equidroid- -”

“That’s not what I mean! We went through all that to get rid of Cores, to switch over to machines- -and all they did was put a new kind of Core back in!”

“I am not a Core. I am a quant. I just said that.”

“Look at you!” Scootaloo gestured toward the central column. “I don’t know what the hell you are, but you’re alive! And your trapped here, just like THEY were!”

Inte looked at her core assembly, then back at Scootaloo. “Although most modern quants use a biological interface, I assure you, I am not actually alive.”

“Yes you are! Don’t give me that shi- -”

Inte stepped forward. Her expression became somewhat more serious. “What you are imply is, frankly, insulting,” she said. “I realize you did not intend it, but it is. I assure you, I am NOT alive. I am a machine. I run code, accomplish functions, fly the ship. I do not have thoughts, emotions, volition, free will, desire, choice.”

“But I’m talking to you!”

“No. You are talking to a very well-made VI interface. I am a program designed to replicate conversation with a real pony. Essentially- -if you will allow me to insult you as you have insulted my creators- -I am tricking you into believing in a fake pony.”

“A fake pony…” Scootaloo began to cough again, and sat down. She pulled it away and saw that it was completely covered in blood.

“Commander,” said Inte. “My internal scanners indicate that your vital signs are dropping. If you blood pressure continues to fall, you’ll- -”

Scootaloo did not hear the rest. She collapsed into unconsciousness.

There were sounds. A distant laughter, and something else. A sound of muffled gunshots, and a sudden cry. She looked up and saw a light- -and a single round circle set in a black mask.

Then she fully regained consciousness. The light remained, but Scootaloo saw that it really was just that- -a light. She was lying on a table, surrounded by an array of robotic surgical tools hanging from the ceiling. Otherwise, though, she was not sure where she was.

“Inte?” she called, wondering if she had even been real.

“I am here,” said Inte, her form materializing to Scootaloo’s right.

“What just happened?”

“Your vital signs dropped. I believe I said that.”

“Where am I?”

“Sick bay. You are not in good condition. You have frostbite to several internal organs that I believe may be critical to your continual survival. I believe that I have probably stabilized you.”

“Probably?” Scootaloo sat up. She still felt awful, but now the general malaise had at least been replaced with ordinary pain. “Ow…what do you mean ‘probably’?”

“I do not currently have a medical protocol module installed. I had to…infer.”

“Infer what?”

“Your physiology. It worked, though. You’re not dead. Hooray.” There was a small sound and a plume of holographic confetti. “Oh! My confetti protocol module WAS installed! Yay!”

Scootaloo turned on the stainless steel table, and groaned. “So I was frozen?”

“Based on the condition of your liver, spleen, lungs, and liver, I would say yes.” She paused. “I think I said ‘liver’ twice…”

“How long?”

“About twenty centimeters. You are unusually small for an adult mare, and your liver length reflects that.”
“Not that. How long was I frozen?”
“I do not know. I would require a historical landmark. What is the last even that you remember?”

“I remember…Trixie,” said Scootaloo. “I remember being a Priestess, and I remember Twilight…” She paused. There was something more there, but she could not manage to recall. “And Starlight…” Scootaloo looked up. “How long has it been since Starlight Glimmer was made a Priestess?”

“Starlight Glimmer was promoted to Priestess of the Cult of Harmony in the year of our Solar Goddess 1008. The current year is 1286. Two hundred and seventy eight years have passed since then.”

“Two hundred seventy eight…” Scootaloo’s heart sank. “That can’t be right. Is that even possible?”

“Based on the empirical evidence, I would say yes.”

“That would mean…” Scootaloo took a deep breath. “Everypony is dead. Everypony I knew, they’re all gone.”

“I do not know the ponies that you are referring to, but yes. In all probability, they have died of old age. The only ponies known to be alive from that era, apart from you, are Celestia, Luna, Cadence, Flurry Heart, Twilight Sparkle, Starlight Glimmer, and Sunburst, consort to Flurry Heart.”

“Then that means Rainbow Dash is gone.”

“Correct,” said Inte, with no emotion beside cheerfulness. “High Commander Rainbow Dash died in year 1030 at the age of 52 of cirrhotic liver failure.”

“So…she went back to drinking.”

“No,” said Inte. “A brief scan of over seven thousand six hundred and eighty biographies indicates that Rainbow Dash did not drink following [redacted], and that her liver failure was the result of alchohol abuse early in her life.”

Scootaloo looked up. “What did you just say? Redacted?”

“What?” Inte did not seem to know what Scootaloo was referring too. “Oh. It appears that a historical event has been redacted.”

“What has been redacted, exactly?”

“I am unsure. It is redacted. Apparently from seven thousand six hundred and eighty biographies.”

“Inte,” said Scootaloo, slowly. “I can’t remember what happened to me. Why was I frozen?”

Inte seemed to consider for a moment. “[Redacted]”.

“Well, that’s just great.”

“This is great? I was not anticipating that reaction. However, yay!” More holographic confetti appeared.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Oh. Please refrain from that. My creators, being absolute geniuses, did not think it would be necessary for me to understand sarcasm. So I don’t.”

“Then…then what?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”

Scootaloo slid off her chair. Striking the ground only accentuated her pain; every muscle seemed to be cramping as if she had just finished several weeks of intense training. “I have to get back to Equestria,” she said. “I don’t know what’s happened to me, but Twilight will no. I have to see her.”

“That is not a good idea.”

“Not a good idea- -how is that not a good idea?”

“Largely because the cryogenics company that you escaped from has placed a ten million bit bounty on your head. All of Equestria has also been placed on alert, and it is rumored that a Cult Inquisitor has been dispatched to, well, dispatch you.”

“You’re kidding. On what crime?”

“Heresy,” said Inte, simply.

“Heresy? How?! I’m a Priestess! I have only ever served Twilight Sparkle with the utmost loyalty!”

“I am not sure the motivation,” said Inte. “However, in the present climate, if you encounter any agent of Equestria, you will be executed on sight.”

“Any Equestrian agent?” asked Scootaloo, stepping forward. Inte took a step back, looking concerned. “Like you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You are an Equestrian agent, aren’t you? How do I know YOU’RE the one telling the truth? How do I know you’re not lying- -or that you’re not going to sell me out to them if you’re telling the truth?”

“I am not lying. You can check my internal relation program if you like, or, rather, if you had the ability. But I assure you, I am telling the truth to the best of my ability.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to capture me?”

“Because I am a virgin.”

They both paused. “You…what?”

“Or rather, was a virgin. You are my first.”

“First- -I didn’t touch you, if that’s what- -”

“Not that. That’s not normally possible. Well, it is, but…uncommon. Usually. Not really. What I mean is, you are my first operator. The first organic being ever to set hoof in my since I came online.”

“First? But that doesn’t make any sense- -how did you get there, then?”

“This unit was activated sixteen hours ago. My initial directive was to move immediately to Cryostation Twelve around the planet Hayzel and await the arrival of an organic operator.”
“Under whose orders?”
Inte paused. “[Redacted].”

“Great,” said Scootaloo. “Just great.” She held up her hoof. “No confetti. That was sarcasm.”

“But I like the confetti. It’s so pretty.” She smiled. “Just kidding, I have no likes or dislikes. But I convinced you for a second, didn’t I?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Do you ever stop looking at my butt?”

Scootaloo groaned and turned away. “Set me up a holographic interface in the bridge,” she said.

“Why? That literally defeats my purpose.”

“Well, I need to get us somewhere, and I don’t know how to get that information into you any other way. I’m not exactly used to this.”

“Oh. Well, in that case…done. Task complete.” She paused. “But, if I may ask, where are we going?”

“We’re outlaws, right?”

“Well, you are. I’m not.”

Scootaloo ignored her. “And we’re in the Milk Path galaxy. So, there’s only one place for outlaws like us to go, isn’t there?”