Brüder - überm Sternenzel
“Now what, eh?”
This was a perfectly valid question. At this point, I really had nothing else to expect in my life, and yet a uniformed figure had stood outside of my cell for a considerable amount of time. I'm a prisoner, you see, and this was too much attention for one of thousands of my kind.
Deep in the desert, with live ammunition drones patrolling the perimeter, thermal scanners in every watchtower, with x-ray and microwave scanners for any entering or leaving vehicle… well, you get the idea. Behind four blast doors needed to enter every cellblock, in the third floor of the E block, on the seventeenth cell to the left of the main door, you'll find me
I’ve been in this two by three cell for eleven years and... I don’t know how many months. They’ll display a message on the hard plastic that serves as my cell door the day I reach the twelfth anniversary, right above the little slot where my meals come through and where my hands come out to be cuffed when its time for my daily "walk".
That means, between other things, that I’ve been in an excellent place to do anything but remember, and I’ve been at it for more than a decade: I’ve built and rebuilt the world inside me with the few artworks I came in contact before I earned this suite. The library of this place has nurtured me, I’ve read enough to know the difference between the fleeting evernew works of performing art and the eternal works of its static counterparts, yet understanding that each aesthetic experience is unique, be it from different people or the same person in different ages of their life. Thus, I’m trapped but not desperate because I’ve grown inside, the only way left for me to grow. In that aspect, I’m free and without any boundaries.
Still, I long for even the searing pain that a sight of the real sun may burn in my eyes, things I have only the memory left, yet no hope of actually attaining.
That was, of course, until a guard stood outside of my cell. It could always be a random beating, but its taken too long for that, this guy, or someone above this guy, wants something from me.
The man himself was a rare sight, really. In this whole compound, there were probably some thirty of them for the thousands of us. The personalized attention only came so often. Following my gut, I’d say that this man had been ordered to do something with me, probably on a tight schedule, and he didnt answer my question. This was a game of power, and I had nothing else to do right now.
“Now what, eh?”
Still he didn’t budge, not a single muscle out of place, attentively waiting for me to give up my last inch of defiance and answer his silence. It was a losing battle and I knew it, but I´ll be damned if i give up that easily. He could have greeted me or stated right away his business, but he wanted me to be the one to start the "conversation", another subtle example of the cathegoric power they held over every one of us.
Seconds would turn to minutes and the only difference would be the chances of someone having spit on my meals if i kept this going, it was an impasse that could only be resolved by capitulation, and because movement is life and I wanted to be alive again...
“What is the situation, sir?”
“That’s better, 286105. Im taking you for a walk. Put your hands on the slot.”
That got him rolling, I’d like to believe that he even flinched a little, but I may just be imagining things
And he still left me with nothing to know about what anyone wanted from me. After cuffing me, I stepped away from the wall and, as once a day since I came here, the plastic lifted itself to let me through. He began to lead me with a hand on my right shoulder and another holding the electric baton that apparently wanted to dig itself into my ribs, which was good, because if he got his petty revenge here, there were less chances of the aforementioned spit on my meal.
Cell after cell of inmates saw me with my fancy escort. Some looked, some didn’t; but in the end it didn’t matter, hardly anything could be heard from one side of the glass through the other unless the guards wanted to make it so. We were forbidden of interaction with any of our own, and were under penalty if we were to commit the fault of trying to socialize. Hmp! Now that I think about it, this fellow prodding my back could very well be the closest I got to a best friend.
Staircases down, past two blast doors and behind a palm and retinal scanner for my bestie, was the infirmary with all the shiny gizmos required to keep us alive, making sure the government kept sponsoring this giant tomb for those of us who they deemed better buried alive than rehabilitated and reintegrated into society.
Sorry if I’m being melodramatic, the bastards will probably take this as my daily hour of excercise.
There, in his holy white robe was our resident doctor -he who tuned and decided how and when to use the machines and gave the occasional mandatory shot- sitting behind his desk, toying with the pen in his hand and with a bunch of paper sheets between us. He barely raised his eyes to check that his door had opened when he started”
“All right, 286105…” He’s not even looking at me “we'll proceed as soon as you sign on the lines of these papers, just fill the empty lines with your name, you can’t miss them, we´ve filled everything else.”
Did he really expect me to sign something without even reading it? What’s his problem? He hasn’t even told me what I’m gaining or giving away by signing this! This was a shady deal, and I knew my fair share of them. Was I even a person in his eyes?
This was frustrating, yet expectable, but of course, I had to explain my displeasure with eloquence
“I won’t fill anything until Ive read the shit you want me to sign. What if a bald fat guy wants my ripped organs, and I’m giving them with this waiver?”
“286105, that is only an urban myth. What that paper is, is a nondisclosure agreement on the methods that, if successful, will make you a free man with all of your so called "ripped organs" in less than two months, along with a pack of reparations for any displeasure caused during your volunteering in this… how did they called it? Oh, right! Pharmaceutical testing; of course it doesn’t come without a risk, but don’t worry, you have a very good chance of leaving this poace healthier than you entered.”
Sounded too good to be true, and in this kind of things I can imagine that the seller would make the risks look petty and the benefits astronomical. Maybe I could walk out in two weeks, but also maybe I could end up inside a plastic bag, on my way to the big ol’ burner
Forcing my options, in their way, both made me free.
“One question”
“Yes?”
“These ‘reparations’ as you called them, if I die during the trials, would they…”
“They’ll be passed to your next of kin, or whoever you wish to desi-“
“I’m in”
Still, to know exactly what was I getting into, and to spite everyone around me, I took my sweet time reading every single detail of the double page printed, small fonted, space lacking sheets of paper. I found many names I didn’t recognize next to very important sounding charges and ranks of many, many countries. It sounded like the real deal, an organized government funded test trials on prisoners meant we were just one step above the rats, guinea pigs and bonobos they had tested their shit on. I honestly was about to back off, and I probably should have, but the temptation of freedom, the chance to make amends… It was too much to resist for someone who didn’t expect anything else.
“All right, there’s only one last blank line remaining, but before I fill it, I have one last question”
“Another?! All right, all right, just shoot it, Tony.”
“What is this ‘Equestria’ I keep reading about?”
Well, take me to the spa, give me a makeover, buy me a dress and call me Shirley. I certainly didnt expect that.
Soon, I’d come to believe that what they said about the horses, the barrier, the inevitability and the way out that I’d eventually test, but right there and then, I just believed they were pulling my leg (and every other extremity I had) and keeping the real reason behind the tests for themselves; I mean, what if I lived through whatever they did to me? I would be spilling the beans! But if they didn’t really tell me what it was about, it gave me a little hope that they would really let me go when –or if- I got out of this uhm… let’s call it opportunity.
I let them take their blood and tissue tests, toughened myself for their spinal samples, played with the machines they had to try out my reflexes, pulmonary capacity and else, I nearly got into a first name basis with the doc, but it always seemed kind of fake, you know? It was only until I saw an apple in my tray that I began to really believe I could be days away from leaving my tiny box.
At the same time it was, and wasn’t, an ordinary red apple they had left in the dessert compartment of my tray. It existed, I could smell, touch and taste it, but it had been so long since I tried one that the flavor seemed unreal. Back then, I believed that all those years without a solid bite at a fruit had made that moment so grand, but now I know that it truly was the goddesses ambrosia; nothing less than the best fruit I had ever tasted in my whole life.
Giving me something so great, something that felt so precious made me really believe that I had a value for them, that I wasn’t just some disposable lab rat, that I really had a way out of my cell. That is the moment I really began to hope for the better.That night I dreamed of blue skies and beautiful orchards, but when it dawned, I realized my pillow was wet with tears.
Excuse me if I’m being too mushy, let me proceed with the facts: the tests continued, the samples kept coming out and the apples kept coming into yours truly. It even became a routine during those days, until one day I was called earlier than before to the infirmary, told to sit on one of the desk chairs, and to mind my feet. Before I could ask what was happening, a whirring sound came from upside and a circular plastic of the same kind of my cell descended on me, barely missing the edges of the desk.
They had trapped me on a transparent panic room or something of the like, did it mean that…?
Clip, clop, clip, clop
Are those heels?
Clip, clop, clip, clop
They have to be. Is it then another physician? Another round of tests?
Clip, clop.
She’s behind the door.
It opened.
Something came over me. Something I maybe supposed existed before seeing her washed me, and would have thrown me away were it not for the barrier that stopped my back from falling: her aura, a presence so powerful to make a hopeless man, in an instant, believe in everything at once.
An angel, a Titania queen in the visage of the combined myth of Perseus and a virginal purity so unstained that it would be allowed on Mother Mary’s lap. The return of the fairies, a descendant from heaven harboring salvation, an angel, a symbol, a living chance to believe in what made childhoods innocent and sweet…
I believed she was real the moment I saw her; despite the rational part in my mind screaming that this was just a cruel prank or the poisoned results of a situation I just didn’t deserve or couldn’t be that lucky to live.
Now the life had presented me the opportunity to believe again, to really hope for a better future, with my guilt purged and on a brave new world that wanted to welcome me with opened arms.
Despite everything I had gone through, I really never saw a tangible proof that this place existed, I had run on a fragile hope that what they had promised could be delivered, and the hope probably existed there because, deep down, I needed something to hang unto. Back then, I had rejected the most beautiful of mirages because I couldn’t bring myself to believe on it; now the problem was that despite nothing my rational mind could believe, I was hoping, and building my very life on that hope. Far behind had I left the point where, if I were told nothing of it was real, I’d shatter.
That was, of course, until I saw her on the door, tall and mighty, the lavender goddess.
Seid umschlungen Millionen!
She gave me time to compose myself. Letting me go from crying mess to stuttering idiot, and from there she probably hoped I was in such a state of shock that would let me answer as straightforward and mechanically as possible.
Confirming we had reached that situation, she went straight to the point, and after stating her name and glorious place she held in her kingdom, took the bothered asking for my permission before her horn began to glow, piercing me with a gentle light, sweeping me from one side to another.
Just a bit later, the light vanished, and she saw me to the face again.
“What was your crime, Anthony-286105?”
“I am not allowed to discuss with you the details of my crime, princess. It was in the paper they had me sign. Perhaps they don’t want to distress you.”
“Then those above you underestimate our resilience. Am I right to assume it was a serious one for you to end in this, uhm…”
“Tomb? Maybe it was very serious, maybe it wasn’t. Do you know how many super max prisons are in only this country? Let me ask you a question, do you really believe all of us did things so terrible to be in these conditions?”
“I… I’m only asking on behalf of finding more test subjects to save you all! What if what makes you such a good match for magic is related to the aggressiveness of your species?”
“You dodged the question, princess. I cant blame you, really. And I wont be able to change your point of view of us, maybe I shouldnt! But think about it, at least in this state the number of recluses detremines the level of founding a jail has. And a minimum space for us implies—“
“A maximum capacity for recluses also means maximum funding.”
“I can maybe blame them and maybe not. Maybe we are not evil per se as you think-“
Please don’t put words in my mouth I never spoke, I never said all of you were inherently-“
“MAY think we are." I continued, without missing a beat
“What if we are not built to cause harm as many of you belive, what if we were born to be greedy in a time of scarcity and we never grew past it?"
“Again, this is too high of a horse for me to sit on, it simply exceeds my capacities and I may have just fed you a lot of nothingness, Everything I may have said could be wrong or a saintly delusion of my part! Im in such position to understand that my arguments seem loaded, and it is intelligent of you to distrust my word, but if you can give this soon to be citizen of yours a favor, please look it up. Its only a google away... in your case, of course”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Anthony”
Damn, that was a harsh stop for a conversation. Had I said something wrong?
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Still, many more meetings would follow that one, each with small talk between the scanning she performed, what she made me drink and how we waited for her reactives to cause or remove rashes from areas of my skin (and she really used every square centimeter of it.), that’s how I realized they had very different concepts of modesty.
Anyway, back then I had no way to know it, but she later told me that after that first visit, she had entertained for an instant how curious was it that one hundred zeros had become a synonym with surfing, how could the analogy between the sea and a spiderweb work, and began to take me more as a living being than an experiment subject. You don’t make small talk with someone you try to distance yourself of. Soon enough, I’d understand that she was in the end, and despite her otherworldliness, just another person getting by in these realms
“… And from what I’m told, that park in Manehattan now looks better than ever, Rarity-“
“The one with the boutiques, right?”
“Yes! She even sent me a flier, turns out that they are housing weekly theater nights now, and they could make it possible only because the entire neighborhood acted on it. Successes like those gave me the idea for the seeds of chance project, but so far it’s only been answered by corporations looking to use ‘royal’ or ‘Equestrian’ in their name, but no real change in their labor politics or their means of production. It looks like we still have time, but it only looks that way, it’s starting to get worrisome”
“You trust those ponies touring our world, it’s clear from how you’ve talked about them. Why don't you give them a bit more of space to make their decisions? Who knows what they can find with their hooves on the field?”
“I’ve been considering it, but the risks seemed too big, truth be told, I have seen many situations that make it harder to trust your species.”
It had become too personal, she had said too many things I shouldn’t know, and despite my fear of damaging the relationship, I just had to ask
“I’m not gonna remember this conversation, am I right?
“You ask that question every time we’ve talked, and every time I had proved your assumptions correct, but specifying that I’ll only brush away state secrets. Am I really that easy to read?”
I took it quite well, probably because I had taken it before a good number of times (number that now I couldn’t be sure about), and surprising myself, kept it going as the most regular of conversations.
“Probably not, it’s just that I just couldn’t believe that such a powerful figure would talk of things so secretive or important to the governments that easily… makes me feel like I’m some kind of diary you write in pencil only to erase it later.”
“Trust me, that isn’t the case, I need to learn how your mind functions and fill gaps to develop a better part of the last spell. those dememorization spells let me know a bit more of how your mind works while I apply them, and the more I practice…”
“The better the performance will be”
“Mh… I always remove that phrase, yet there seem there are some traces from past sessions, most interesting”
She had gone at it again, as if she were forgetting that I was not only her experiment subject, but also a living human being. I had to bring it back to personal level.
“Ever deleted something you shouldn’t?”
She kept silent. And I stayed without knowing what I, or anybody else, had lost that way. Maybe moving the conversation to something personal was not the best option after all.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Anthony”
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“… those are joys beyond comparison, but sometimes I feel under too much pressure, and long for simpler times, maybe in my library, with only books and dust mites to worry about”
“You didn´t go all the way back to where you didn’t have any responsability, what about your childhood?”
“I… everything precipitated itself after I earned my cutie mark”
“And began to take care of Spike”
“…”
“…”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Anthony”
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“…but what would they say if I were to take the advice of not only a criminal, but a human criminal?”
“Nothing, if they don’t know. And that they’re committing an ad hominem fallacy by judging the value of the words only by who’s speaking them”
“How I wished there were more of that kind of talk in Canterlot, it would make some uppity nobles listen to the earth farmers’ requests and suggestions. Who knows how much better Equestria would run if one hoof didn’t need to ask the other for permission to keep going. Anyway, I might have overextended the time of our session; I’ll see you tomorrow, Anthony”
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“…also, thanks for the drink, Twilight, this pineapple juice is really something else!”
“It really is no big deal, but you are all the same welcome. Now, tell me, do you ever feel nostalgic, Tony?”
“Well, your highness, given my circumstances,” and I tapped on the plastic barrier between us “that’s a very dangerous alley to visit. I really don’t know how strong I am, what if it’s too much form me to take?”
And then, silence. I believe she understood what I meant, but for what she’d told me, this wasn’t something you usually saw at the other side of the barrier, everything over there seemed too simple, too easy to do or to live. Maybe they were more transparent and that made it more difficult for this kind of shit to rain on their parade, maybe they were just simpler, luckier.
“After the procedure, will you look for anyone you know?”
“Twilight, I really don’t…”
“Sorry, I know that I overexerted my boundaries. I won’t touch the matter again, it’s just that, well put yourself in my place, friendship and knowledge, in that order are everything from my air to my food, and you… well…”
“’Are a fine specimen?’”
“You could say so,” She laughed “now, please, let me wash the bitter taste, is there anything I can do for you? Any more fruit, a tolly-vision in your room maybe?”
I also knew I needed to flee from that taste, and feeling a little bit of a rascal and nearly completely sure that she’d keep to her word, I made a gamble that could make the wrath of a goddess -with legislative power over the place I was going to live at- befall on me. But, meh, carpe diem.
“There could be something, but…”
“Just say it, it can’t be that bad. You’re nearly a free pony! What could the prison say to stop it? Everypo- sorry, everyone here is practically under my direct command, they can’t harm you, and you are-”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve hear it enough times: all this about winning the genetic lotto, of being on the upper .021 percentage of subjects magic withholding and all that,
“And you still don’t believe that you are too important to simply dismiss or replace, I’m being serious about that! The crucial day is getting nearer and there was a noticeable difference between the subjects that entered stressed to the procedure!”
Well, here goes the leap of faith, who knows, it might even work.
“Well, there’s one thing you can do for me, even, or may I say, only because there is a barrier between us. You see, it may be that I have been getting into the mindset on these last visits, or it could be that you are the first female or the first person for that to actually treat me as a human being in over a decade, but... well, to put it simply, youre truly beautiful, as a member of any species and both in your shape and your attitude.
“Well, I appreciate the opinion; it even flatters me, but that still doesnt answer the question. I have to remember you, though, that we won’t ever be in the same room, so you better put down any fantasy of the like you may harbor.”
Is she really…?! No, maybe she’s just messing with me… then again, she might as well please me, I may not remember it at all!
“I know my limitations, I know what is impossible or unreachable, but, you see, Im not even asking to touch one of your hairs. I, eh... well, its a long shot, but have you seen midnight express?
“I’ve seen many trains that operate in that shchedule, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Its the name of a movie, eh, well, you see, this is where the crystal wall comes into play, there is a scene where...”
Twenty-one seconds later, the meeting was officially over as a brightly blushing Twilight walked away from my cell in the infirmary. At least that’s how I remember it.
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Twilight Sparkle, while already on her way to become another equally important ruler of a realm, still had many lessons to learn, and that day she had understood that the advice her mentors had given her was true: even if it did work, the horseshoe bay pineapples would only make a meeting with the apes less pleasant, though not in the disturbing kind of way any of her mentors expected.
Strangely enough, she also understood that it would be hypocritical to hold his words against him, as he would never had said them if she hadn’t given him that pineapple juice.
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Other sessions came and went, more was said, more she expected me to tell, but for some reason, I never really told her but the tiniest details of my life: she’d have literal weeks to ask for and read my profile, yet she never gave signs of knowing what I’ve done or for how long I’d be on that cell if it weren’t for her. It was almost as if we had an unspoken agreement, that I’d tell her everything the day I walked on four legs.
That day came soon enough. After what may have been, if not the greatest, the tastiest cornucopia in the history of mankind, I left behind me my cell, my block, the stairs and the doors one last. My steps weren’t heavy or slow, but my hands trembled. How would it feel to lose my fingers? I would most probably miss them. But what if I gained a horn or wings?
Only until I saw the vat instead of the desk did the size of what was about to happen hit me. This was the last session. I had chosen this path on my life.
Even now she wouldn only enter the room until I was secured inside the plastic. God forbid if they ever let the walking magic nuke be hurt by the scary criminal. Whatever. I could see the cup inside the the vat, sparkling purple, irradiating heat and making the hairs in my body bristle. There was nothing else to think, but one last thing to do.
The barrier fell at the same time as the cup rose to my mouth, and after a second, It was done.
I began feeling drowsy and struggled to lay down into the fishtank that would be my cradle while I died and lived again. In the last steps I realized my arms were much less capable when they let me slid and bonk my head on the bottom of the tank, much to the surprise of Twilight.
That’s probably going to make her feel bad, she’ll blame herself from not telling me to lay down before being knocked down. But that’s not bad per se. I had spent weeks with very pleasant company, but she was no saint. One of the leading heads in her realm, she had to have something to do with the dome that is eating my world. Should I consider this as a parting shot? Making her feel bad? She’s freeing me, but at the same time taking so much away from me! I mean, I obviously had nothing against her, and she hadn’t treated me wrong, but then again I am her personal guinea pig. And what if they were actually responsible for that evergrowing barrier? I wouldnt put it beyond their capacities, given what we’re trying to accomplish here. What if it is actually their fault?
Would I, still a feeble creature known as human, be avenging my race in at least some way by making her be slightly ashamed of herself? Damn, that’s more than most of us will do before catching with the “pony up” trend.
Maybe I should ask her
Maybe...
I felt something viscuous and warm begin to envelop every part of my body: my arms that no longer wanted to move, my legs that had given their last steps, my legs felt soft and spongy while my toes anf fingers felt like nothing. Whatever i was turning into, it began to fall on my face, covering my eyes that barely could see and my mouth that no longer needed to breathe. I could have been scared, I had all the right to be, but the fear did not come, only peace creeped me on my time of undoing, and that’s how now, I cease to be.
The crystal wall began lifting itself.
Twilight’s horn began to charge in the same aura of her coat, she knew that time was of the essence, and although she had bought some seconds with her friend’s super-charged harvest, all could be lost if she did not give him the “princess jumpstart” to help him form himself up from that gooied stage of the procedure. According to her last tests, he had enough magic in his system to keep his form cohesive for at least a minute, and by that time she could have charged five times over what was required, but given the accidents with the subjects that preceded Anthony…
There was a falter in her horn’s aura as she remembered her past failures. She hardened her will and put those images aside, for this was Anthony’s moment, and he would remain as he was now if she didn’t act.
The vat of goo that was neither human or equine, dead or alive, but only for a very limited frame of time, as that form used the energy remaining in the machines to sustain itself, and until they found how to imbue more power or use it more efficiently, this job always would require a jumpstart of magic from an extremely powerful external source (thank Celestia the mages found how to lower the ridiculous amount of magic the first procedures required), and that meant that the subject would always be dependent somepony else to pull them out of that dreamless sleep, if one were to romanticize it.
Down in the bottom of the vat were thin stripes of inked skin that remained from the identification tattoo he had on his scalp. She was already planning what to do with these remaining samples back in her laboratory so that her team could work on refining the differenciation matrixes on the bots, hoping for a one hundred percent efficiency recognition of tissue.
She was sufficiently charged by now, and shot the vat of fluids his subject had become. And a miracle began to take shape in front of her eyes.
.-.-.-.-.-.
He had turned into a handsome oat furred stallion with a straw-yellow mane, his leg joints seemed to twist as they should, a scan showed everything inside moving with the rhythm they should. But she’d have to wait until more detailed tests could be performed to be sure that it all had gone according to plan. For now, everything seemed to be at place, except for a small detail.
It seemed his left rear leg was half an inch short of the others; it was too much mass to be justified with the unconverted tattooed skin, maybe the bots had used too much mass in other areas and had to compensate. But other than a slight, easily corrected gait, the transformation had been a success. Now it only remained to be seen if the changes inside him had been as successful
His pupils responded just fine,
He was an embodiment of the miracle she had pulled, now she only had to wait for him to wake up.
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“I feel excellent princess, never better”
That’s
I dont want to... Why would you want to talk about that princess? Thats all behind! What resson could I have to bring those memories back?
“Anything in particular you’d like to do?”
After thinking it for some time, he opened his eyes as wide as he could and with an ear to ear smile he said "Id love to embrace the whole world with a hug!"
“That is very commendable, very good indeed, but what about going wih your family,going to the movies… listening new music?”
“Why would I want any of that?” He answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world “Nothing of that is in Equestria nor helps any of my sisters and brothers. But if it were to be music, I’d like to know the music of your world, your highness, I bet it can only be good!”
“And your family?”
“My family? I... I don’t want to... please, dont make me talk about it princess.”
Even now he doesnt want to talk about it? I could press him to make him tell me, but this early? No, it would prove counterproductive in building trust. Later… later it would be then.
“What about that movie you told me the ther time? You never told me how it ended?”
“A movie? I... Oh dear Celestia, I'm sorry princess!!!”
In an instant the puzzlement in his face had transfigured as drastically as he had just minutes ago: not only embarrassment, but also the most abject of fears had taken over all f his visage, twisting it into wrinkles and folds just on the verge of crying
“I dont know what got into me back then! I! I didnt want to offend you in such a beastly manner! Please forgive me princess! I... I just couldn’t stop myself!”
It took all of what I had in order to don’t break in front of him. Something indescriptible had been lost to him and because of what I did, he didn’t know, or didn’t care if it was gone.
For now, the only thing left to say, is that he was positively radiant after knowing I was about to teleport him directly to the other side of the barrier. I didn’t know if I should smile or cry after he vanished.
All in all, and given the circumstances, it was a success. The amount of mana required for the process had been cut by half of what the last batch required, the ingesting of Sweet Apple Acres’ produce before the procedure charged his body with enough magic for him to hold his form for a much longer time than before, and we even produced the best specimen… no, the healthiest subject to date. If we keep these improvement spurs coming, in less than two weeks any average pony, not just a unicorn, may give them the jumpstart to reform from the semi-liquefied phase.
There are still many improvements to be made from the accidental attitude reprogramation. It’s a problem, if we could’ve preserved their personalities from the start we’d have the moral debate of ‘do we really need these foals still being violent apes in their noggin?’, instead we have to ask ourselves if it is right to leave them tame as lambs, even if that’s how every mayor and noble wants their new citizens to be.
They’ll accept this, but what will be his future? Unless something radical were to change his attitude, he will be a living doormat for the rest of his life. Not everypony will have a life-changing crisis the way Fluttershy had. What kind of citizens are we creating?
Happy ones.
This procedure, as the others that preceded it, could and was considered a success in the technical field. The subject was reborn with no malformations or... mental scarring, into a healthy, morally righteous member of the Equestrian society.
Despite their new nearness in terms of species, he no longer called her by her first name, nor joked or deviated from the conversation. It was as if he were now scared of her or something else was restraining him, forcing him to get into line. Could it be a strong genetic memory extrapolated from one of the templates? No, none of them were so uptight about the conduct in front of nobles.
Could it be that we simply... messed up?
I had only began to know the man, and now he was gone forever.
Worse still, in order to save the rest, to truly save them, I was assured to see it happen again and again until I got it right, and even then, be ready to correct the formula if my people, or my fellow princesses, decided that saving them, as they were, was in the wrong.
Author's Note
Any and every comment is appreciated. Thanks for reading my first story in Fimfiction!
