The Murder of Elrod Jameson

When she opened her eyes, Twilight found that she felt oddly groggy. She looked around, for a moment not remembering why she was in a high-ceilinged and windowless room filled with musty boxes and dim light. Then she remembered, and supposed that she must have fallen asleep at some point.

She stood up and stretched. Doing so felt strange; it was not as relaxing as she recalled, and things inside her felt as though they were straining. Twilight found herself wondering if she was starting to get sick. It would not be the first time she experienced a cold, though, and she could recall having spent many nights hard at work in the Canterlot library even when she had various forms of horse sickness.

With the lights the way they were, it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. That seemed to be a strange feature of this world, that it was always dark and somewhat damp. Twilight assumed that there must be a sky somewhere, but she had never seen it. There had only been towers rising into impenetrable darkness or to vast ceilings high overhead.

Twilight decided that it was probably night, and that everyone seemed to be staying up. Through the shelves, she could see Roxanne, who had cleared out a space in the warehouse and appeared to be repeatedly practicing the same set of dance steps with a thoroughness that made what was probably a quite exotic dance seem procedural and even mundane. Strangely, though, she appeared to already know the steps perfectly.

Not wanting to bother Roxanne while she was busy, Twilight continued toward the front of the warehouse. As she did, she came across Elrod and Blossomforth. Forth sat in a large but dusty winged armchair while Elrod appeared to have perched himself on a high stack of moldering couch cushions. A table had been set between them; they were playing cards.

“Ha!” cried Elrod as he suddenly threw down a card. “I play impenetrable fog!” He produced a wheezing sound that was probably meant to be laughter. “That’s what you get for putting all your strength in your range row.”

Forth tapped her hoof on a card that was already on the table. “I use Foltest’s special ability. The battlefield is now clear of all weather.”

Elrod’s eyes went wide. “What? No! You- -but my- -”

“I win. Pay me.”

Elrod hung his head. A quiet beep came from his pocket.

“Ms. Twilight,” said Forth. “We found a deck of cards. Do you want to pay? It is easy to take money from Mr. Jameson.”

“It’s not fair! You’re a computer!”

“Yes. An adorable computer. Who now has half your life savings.” She paused. “Which, granted, is only about thirty vod.”

“No thanks,” said Twilight. “Um…have you seen Morgana?”

“Yes. Many times.”

There was a silence. “And…where is she now?”

Forth pointed in the direction of the door. “Just outside. Staring wistfully into the rain.”

“It’s condensation,” muttered Elrod, shuffling his deck.

Twilight nodded and continued toward the front of the warehouse as Forth and Elrod drew cards for another round in their game. The large door had been left partially open, and thin wisps of fog were drifting in. Morgana’s legs were clearly visible near one side. Twilight lowered her head and stepped through.

Elrod had been correct about the weather. It was not really rain, but rather condensation from the moist fog that was rolling through the area dripping from points on the ceiling. It looked almost like rain, though, and small rivers were flowing down the path toward the open door before dribbling loudly into a drain grate.

Morgana was indeed standing just outside, under a ledge that protected her from any condensation falling on her person. She was smoking a cigarette and looking up the barely lit path. Twilight wondered if she was looking at anything in particular, although guessed she was probably not.

When Twilight exited, Morgana’s eyes immediately flicked toward her. “Do you need something?”

“No,” replied Twilight. “I was just wondering where you were. I accounted for everypony except for you and the one that looks like a really tall Rarity.”

“O’Toole. She left a few hours ago. She said she was going to try to find more information on how my personal hit was issued, and by whom exactly. Which was a patent lie.”

“She lied? What do you mean?”

“I mean she really went to look for Hexel. I could see it in her eyes. She’s worried.” Morgana blew two thin lines of smoke out her nostrils. “And I have a bad feeling too.”

“You think they came after him, too.”

“I think he took a risk that he didn’t need to take. Not for me.”

Twilight looked at her alternate self, who was now staring back out at the falling condensation droplets. “That’s what friends to, Morgana.”

“Yes. And that’s why most of my ‘friends’ are dead now.” She inhaled through her cigarette. “So,” she said after a long pause. “You spoke with Roxanne. Did she tell you everything you needed to know?”

“I think so.”

“No. She didn’t. I was listening.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“To gauge your response. But see, that’s what made me think of it.”

“What?”

“Roxanne. It’s her main flaw. She acts hard, but the truth is she’s more kind than she seems. She has scruples.”

“Neither of those are bad things.”

“Yes, they are. If someone gets on her bad side, she’ll tear them a new hole- -but if you're nice to her, she’s too nice back. She’ll never push hard enough, or she won’t push away people that are bad for her. It’s why she came back for me. She doesn’t understand what’s good for her.”

“Like you do, I suppose?”

Morgana looked at Twilight. “I’m old. Much older than you probably ever will be. I know how the world works. And I know that Roxanne was being far too soft on you.”

“We were just having a conversation,” protested Twilight. “She was helpful and explained a lot of things to me that I otherwise wouldn’t know. I don’t know why you’re saying all this unless…” She gasped. “…unless you’re jealous.”

Morgana sighed. “You can’t worry about being jealous with a girl like Roxanne. Why? Do you have eyes for her?”

“No,” said Twilight very quickly. “It’s just that- -”

“- -you’re trying to rationalize the world. To impose order on it. To understand my motivation.”

“Well, of course I am.” Twilight laughed. “You can’t really get very far without being able to understand the world around you! That’s science, and magic, and…well…I like things to be neat and orderly.”

“As do I. It’s why I became a detective in the first place. So I can give order to my perception of the world.” She paused. “It’s a very Twilight worldview, I guess.”

Twilight laughed. “I guess it is, kind of. But that makes sense, right? It’s like how Roxanne is kind of like the real Rainbow Dash inside. You’re like me.”

“And that is the crux of the problem, isn’t it?”

Twilight was confused. “What? I don’t understand.”

Morgana turned to her slowly and looked her in the eye. “You still think you’re the real Twilight Sparkle, don’t you?”

Twilight laughed again, this time somewhat nervously. Morgana did not laugh. Her expression remained stern and her gaze icy.

“No,” said Twilight. “I can see how this must be confusing to you, seeing as you’re from a world where everypony is a robot version of a real pony, but of course I’m the real Twilight Sparkle. I mean, who else would I be?”

“And now you’re deluding yourself.”

“I’m not deluding! I really am Twilight!”

“No. You’re denying the evidence that was already given to you. I had hoped that you would figure it out from the way Roxanne explained it to you, but either you already know and refuse to accept it or your mind just won’t let you.”

“You’re being ridiculous!” cried Twilight. She put a hoof to her chest. “Look at me! I’m a pony! I’m from Ponyville- -well, Canterlot originally- -and I come from a place where EVERYONE is a pony!”

“And you are made of flesh and blood? Not a machine?”

“Of course not!” Twilight groaned. “Look, Morgana. I don’t know how I got here, but I did. I don’t know, I must have jumped to a parallel reality or something. I don’t remember. But I really am a real pony.”

“Fine, then,” said Morgana. Twilight felt relieved for only a moment before Morgana continued. “We can do this in a way that will satisfy us both. Through reasoning and logic.”

“I do love both of those things. But I think I have you beat on this one.”

“I’m not busy. Are you?”

Twilight hesitated, and then shook her head. She did not know why she suddenly felt so afraid.

“Alright,” said Morgana. “Can you prove to me that you are a real pony?”

“Well,” Twilight thought for a moment. “I guess I could if we had a doctor…”

“We don’t. But here’s a question. What did you have for dinner?”

Twilight paused. “I didn’t eat dinner,” she said, remembering. “I…I guess I wasn’t hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten or drank anything since we met. Are you hungry or thirsty?”

“It’s been a stressful time,” protested Twilight.

“Take a deep breath.”

“I’m already calm, I don’t need- -”

“I don’t really care if you’re calm or not. Take a breath.” Twilight did so, but halfway through Morgana interrupted her. “Do you feel that? Do you actually feel your chest moving, or air going into your nose?”

“Of course I- -”

“Don’t just answer the question. Actually think about.”

Twilight did, and disturbingly she discovered that Morgana was somehow correct. She had been sure moments before that every breath she took was inflating her lungs, but now that she actually thought about it she realized that she was not actually so sure.

“We can look at this rationally,” said Morgana. “Roxanne already explained the basics to you. That original ponies issued from Hasbro have memories already installed in them. I don’t know why they did it. I guess it was to make us seem more realistic.”

“So?”

“So? How would you know that your memories are real and not artificial?”

Twilight frowned. “Because I remember them- -wait,” she paused. That was not a correct line of reasoning, and she knew it. “This is a branch of the evil genius argument.”

“Descartes. Yes. And here we have another example. You’re a learned individual, Twilight. Tell me: who was Descartes?”

“Rene Descartes was a French philosopher and mathmetician born in 1596, the father of the Rationalist movement of philosophy- -”

“Was he a pony?”

“No, of course not, he was a human man- -” Twilight suddenly cried out as though she had been stuck. “- -but- -but why do I know that?”

“That you have knowledge of human scientists, philosophers, and history? Why? Are those things that you would not have access to had you grown up in Equestria?”

“But humans- -there aren’t humans in Equestria, there never were- -but I- -”

“It’s a paradox, isn’t it. If you actually dwell on the subject you’ll find that you’re surprisingly well learned with regard to human literature, mathematics, and history. Because they thought it would be cute to make you brainy. The problem is, the real Twilight would never have access to that information.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! I could have- -I must have- -”

“Must have what? Think for a moment, Twilight.” Morgana raised her damaged arm. “You saw how I got this. You just so happen to wake up in a place where there are hundreds of robotic ponies all stored in boxes, then suddenly find yourself in a world where almost a sixteenth of the population is robotic ponies. Does that strike you as a coincidence?”

“It still could be. Coincidences do occur.”

“You’re more stubborn than I recall being. Fine. I don’t really have time for this anyway. Tell me. Have you looked at your cutie mark?”

Twilight nearly sneered. “I think I’m a little old for cutie mark gazing, don’t you think?”

“Just look.”

“But- -”

“LOOK.”

Twilight frowned. “Fine. You don’t need to be so angry about it.” She turned her head toward her cutie mark. “See? It looks fine to me. One big star over another, and then five little…” She trailed off when she saw something unusual. Her cutie mark was indeed normal, but there was something strange around it: a thin black line, only on her left side.

Twilight leaned in closer and felt the line. Her skin was even, but she could still feel it. Then suddenly Morgana reached out and pressed hard against the encircled area.

“Hey! Don’t touch my- -”

There was a click, and Twilight felt something move. She looked down at her rear and any breath she might have had caught in her throat. Her whole body seemed to freeze in horror as she saw that her skin was no longer even. A grotesque hole had opened, and a piece of her rump had folded back as if it were on a hinge.

Twilight tried to scream at the sight of the injury, but all that came out was a whimper. She stared dumbfounded and watched as her own shaking front hoof moved toward the hole. When she tapped the edge, she found that the part of her that had folded away was not skin or flesh but some kind of plastic over which her skin and soft tissue had been placed.

When she touched the plate, Twilight watched as it opened to reveal a shallow recessed hole. The inner lining was made of metal and perforated with numerous ports of various size and shape.

“No…no,” she said. “What…what did you do?”

“Those are your interface ports,” said Morgana. She lifted her hair with her hoof, revealing an extremely long set of wide metal implants that stretched over most of her cervical vertebrae. There were small round ports, but also six long metallic tendrils that stayed close against her flesh and ran up into her mane. “Mine are here, but the original models had them in a panel.”

“Close it.”

“Just shut it and press. It will- -”

“SHUT IT SHUT IT NOW!” screamed Twilight, her voice rising

Morgana looked at her, and then closed the plate. It shut with a click.

“What- -what was that? What did you do to me?!”

“What did I do to you? You’ve been with me the whole time, I never- -”

Twilight backed away. “You did something to me! Some sort of- -some sort of cybernetic modification! That has to be it! You replaced my leg while I was sleeping!”

“Sleeping?”

“I’m NOT. A MACHINE.” Twilight was shaking and crying, although no tears could fall from her eyes. “I’m Twilight Sparkle! I’M TWILIGHT SPARKLE!”

“There are over forty million Twilight Sparkles.”

“But I’m not one of them! I mean- -I mean I’m the real one! I have a home, in a library! I- -I have friends! They’re waiting for me, back in Ponyville! They- -they must be worried and…and…”

Morgana looked Twilight in the eye, and then turned away. One of her pupils narrowed and the fog in front of her shimmered with violet light. The hologram formed quickly, and in the mist its form was far sharper and clearer than it would have been in clean and empty air. Twilight stared at a representation of a pony standing before her- -a representation of herself.

“This is me,” said Morgana. “My body. What it looks like without the bullet holes or spliced leg.”

“No,” Twilight shook her head. “No no no…I’m not like you. I’m not a machine…”

“And this is what I look like without my skin.” The hologram changed, and Twilight suddenly cried out, weeping softly. The pony that appeared before her was no longer a pony at all. It appeared as though the flesh and hair had been stripped from it and the muscle exposed, except that the muscle was not pink and alive but instead consisted of thick ropes of a black substance bound onto a metal frame by neat connectors. The face stared back with eyes that seemed too large for the face; they had been meant to be adorable, but staring from a carved metal skull they seemed perverse and horrible. Twilight could see the exposed teeth in the representation’s mouth. The front ones were flat, like those of a pony, but the rear were needle-sharp. Morgana noticed Twilight watching and she opened her mouth, revealing that her rear teeth were in fact like those of a carnivore- -and that she had no tongue.

“You don’t look quite like that,” said Morgana. “Most don’t. Your parts are rigid, built into a frame and coated with plastic plating. Your surface is a combination of silicone gel and nylon fuzz. I can show you if you- -”

“NO!” Twilight jumped forward, striking at the hologram. She tried to dispel it, but it did not move. Her hooves passed through it, grabbing only mist. The face of the representation stared at her accusingly. “Don’t show me this! I don’t want to see this!”

The hologram faded as Morgana closed it. Twilight fell to her knees. “I’m showing you what you need to see.”

“But why?” wept Twilight. “Roxanne…Roxanne said that you could remember. That you could remember Ponyville too.”

“The memories that the humans forced me to have. Yes. I still have them.”

Twilight looked up, her eyes wide and quivering. “Then why would you want to do this to me? Why do you want to take away everything that matters to me?”

Morgana stared down at her. “Because you can’t spend your life chasing a word that doesn’t exist. Do you want to be Twilight Sparkle forever, or do you want to have a name of your own?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “I AM Twilight Sparkle,” she whispered. Slowly, she stood. Her whole body was shaking. “And I don’t care what you say. I know who I am, and I know what matters to me. I don’t know what’s wrong with my leg. I can’t explain it. But I promise you: I am going to get back to Ponyville. I am going to see my friends again. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Twilight turned sharply and with some effort crawled back under the door and into the light and comparative warmth of Roxanne’s dusty warehouse. Morgana watched her go. After a few seconds, she lit a cigarette and returned to staring into the fog.