Amnesia: A Machine for Puppets

Malum Ferus

Hide and Seek

I slowly cried inside. I didn’t even know what thing was, or what it wanted, but it frightened me. It’s lethargic stride, that horrific growl. The innate urge to succumb to fear. I was about to jaunt on into a room with it, and play hide-and-seek. Damn my life.

The once-intact door led to a much larger and roomier corridor, with five doors organized on either side, and ended in a sharp right. The pipes were absent from the ceiling here, where the impermeable cloud was clearly visible in the light of my flashlight. According to a metal sign next to the doorway, I had just left “Storage Area 1” and entered into “Living Quarters Floor 2B”. Fully aware the monster was in here with me, I shut off my flashlight and stealthily arrived at the first door on the left, labeled “2B 10C”.

The living quarters were nicely sized, with a loveseat, vinyl recliner, glass coffee table, and tile and wood dining table surrounded by three matching chairs. The kitchen was small, reserved to a corner and consisted of a conventional oven, a refrigerator, and cabinets for herbs and dishes. A sink and drain stood next to it. There were two separate rooms; one for a bathroom, and the other was a bedroom. I shut the door behind me, just in case It got the idea to waltz inside. I emptied every drawer, flipped every cushion, tore off every pillow, and discarded the sheets. No cigar for me; my key was in another room. On this pony’s bed I did find a written note, and it looked to be part of a journal.

Possibly my last entry,

How could they turn against us? Why would they? We have control over them! It’s all that piece of shit’s fault, he turned off the power. That motherfucker doomed us all. Fuck me, they’re right outside. I don’t know what they’ll do to us. Whoever reads this, get out. And if you see them, hide. Hide like your life depends on it. It does. And if they see you

The ‘u’ trailed off -- the pony who wrote this never got a chance to finish. They had found him. Was this the same “They” I warned myself about? I laid the note down on the bed.

The sound of something tearing into flesh, and the sound of a pony’s screams as he was dragged out across the floor echoed across the room. I curled up on the floor, pressing my spine against the bed as I shivered. Make it stop, dear Celestia make it stop. A squishing sound, then a sickening rip and the noises stopped. In the span of a few seconds I wanted them back. I heard distinctly the sound of somepony being hauled on the metal boardwalk outside. What scared me even more was the familiar snarl that led it. Whether this was a hallucination or not I couldn’t tell for sure; it sounded so real. As quietly as I could, I crawled to the door, pressing my ear to the cold metal. There it was, the fleshy thud thud thud as the body slid down the hallway. Very slowly, so as not to make noise, I pulled the door open -- just a enough to see outside. Nothing was there, the hallway was empty.

What the hell was going on? Why was I hear all these fucked-up things? Nothing was there, damn it! So why did I hear it? The pain in my head worsened. The hell, were the walls moving?! I shut my eyes forcefully and shook my head. When I open them, the world returned to normal. What the fuck was happening, the walls looked like they were made of worms! Damn it stallion, pull yourself together! You need to get out of here!

Bracing myself in case the monster was still out there, I yanked the door open and sprinted to the next. I winced as the door slammed. The room I cantered to was locked, so I chose the next one -- 2B 7C. It was an exact copy of the previous one, right down to the color of the sheets. The only difference was this room was very unkempt. Again, my search yielded me nothing. In the bathroom however, written in blood on the mirror was the message, “HELP US”. I was just glad nothing supernatural happened.

The next room I couldn’t get out of fast enough. The occupant of 2B 5C had been scattered across the living room, leaving no doubt in my mind that those creatures were going to brutally murder me. I couldn’t guess what They did to him. The monsters (if that was a strong enough word) had effectively taken everything but his barrel and chest and turned them into paint, and decorated the walls with him. That didn’t even begin to describe the smell of death and decaying flesh that permeated the room. I fought the urge to upend the contents of my stomach and failed.

So far the only consolation I had was the absence of that particular horror. Apart from that psychedelic lapse where I thought I heard it dragging somepony, I’ve haven’t seen or heard heads or tails of it. Where did it disappear to? Why was I asking questions I didn’t want the answer to? Right now I had one and only one goal: Escape. No idea why I’m here, no idea where this was, no idea what it was. After what I’ve seen, I don’t want the answers to those questions. Right?

Right. Whatever horrific massacre took place here did not involve me. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself. There was a flaw in my logic: I drank that potion to forget something abhorrent I did. Did I witness this? Was I a lone survivor of what happened, and now They were hunting me to finish the job? That had to be, nothing else made sense. What didn’t help at all was the contents of a second letter I found in room 2B 3C. In actuality there were several papers, but this was the only one intact.

Snowy Knight - Journal entry 179

Huh. Sigh. Whatever you please. Today was a horrible turnout. Only three processed today. It was not my fault! I swear! But, as Operations Manager I get blamed for all the shit that goes wrong. Why the fuck is Glaze not to blame? She is the fucking CEO! This should be her pile of shit to shovel. I swear, working in this factory can be a pain in my ass sometimes.

On a brighter note, it seems Featherdance fancies P.D. Pie. Saw her checking out his ass during her shift today. You should have seen her face blush when I confronted her. That was a bad idea though, she has been using me as a relay for all of her fantasies. Shudder. As if she had a chance.

-SK

This place was a factory? I could believe that, what with the walkways and pipes, but why would a factory need living quarters for it’s employees? What kind of factory was this place? Ugh, too many damn questions. I don’t care!

...

Then why did I?

I dusted off the loveseat of 2B 1C and curled up on it. I licked my lips and found them to be dry. Not certain, but I believe the last thing I had to drink was the preservative liquid that the carrots were in. Reluctantly I crawled back off the couch and to the miniature refrigerator. Opening it, I was overjoyed to find it still stocked. I chugged down a still chilled bottle of beer, then some water to wash away dehydration.

What I was doing wasn’t working. What was I doing? I was looking for a key card. I was trying to escape. But how? I had no idea where that door led. It could be a way out of here, or it could lead me further into this factory. The truth was I had no inclination as to where to begin to escape. I needed a new plan. Something achievable and plausible, and more importantly possible. Something that could ultimately end in leaving this place. I looked at the useless light hanging in the center of the room. The power, I needed to turn the power on. From there I could formulate something else, but for now that would be my goal.

I also addressed to myself that despite my deniance otherwise, I was curious as to the events that took place here. It was a sinful curiosity, as I did tell myself not to dig, but I couldn’t help it. Something happened that resulted in a mass murder, and that something caused me to make myself forget. What could have been so horrible? The area around my eyes grew numb and my eyelids felt heavy. So did my head. NO! I can’t fall asleep, not here, not while that thing is patrolling the halls. Still maybe with some sleep... a clearer head may be all I need to get out... no. No... no sleep... sleep bad...

The tortured wail from deeper inside the factory made me fully alert. In fact, I fell off the couch and kicked the empty beer bottle onto the floor, where it shattered. No more thoughts of sleep wormed into my head after that. What the hell made that? It sounded too real to exist...

I forced myself out of the room and into the corridor. I pushed all of those questions behind me, focusing on turning the power back on. Then my flashlight flickered and died. I ran back into the room, and ransacked it for batteries. Every drawer was yank out, flipped over and tossed. Every cabinet had it’s contents discarded, as well as the wardrobe. I even checked the fridge, wasting perfectly good beer in the process. None. No traces of batteries anywhere. I would have to travel in darkness.

I cautiously walked through the hallways with trepidation; the walls began to close in on me, and I yearned to be in the presence of light once more. Even with dead batteries, I carried the flashlight loyally in my mouth. I cleared my throat once more of the thin smoke. The billowing wind that seeped in through the clouds became the breath of some unknown creature. At points it would whisper at my ear, and others it be content to follow me.The hollow footsteps haunted adjacent corridors, taunting me. There were three hallways branching off the one I found myself in, each following the same organization as the one I came from.

Without the flashlight everything was harder to examine, and I was constantly squinting my eyes. This made it hard to read the letter I found in room 2B 3A:

Dear diary,

Today was an exceptional day, at least. fourteen processed. Perhaps not as exciting as it sounds, however. fourteen processed means fourteen gone. We are starting to have too many cells and not enough ponies. Still, when looking at the bigger picture...

At least Glaze seemed happy about it. I can not actually remember the last time I saw her so joyful. In fact, I do not think I have ever seen her joyful. On occasion she will act happy, but it is merely a pretense, at best. Most of the others can not tell, but I can. She has the right smile to make the other feel proud, but I can see it in her eyes. She looks tired. I believe the stress of the job is getting to her. It is nice to see something beyond that reflected in her eyes now. I wonder what caused it? Maybe she has found somepony to spend her off hours with... if you are to catch my drift. That is, if she even has off hours. The poor mare works herself too hard, I say. Perhaps one day this week we can give here the break she deserves...

One change that is taking place these coming weeks is the introduction of new guards. No idea what is wrong with the pegasi we have now... but apparently these new ones are going to be more efficient. They will not be taking up the quarters that our guards do now, but how they will expected to live confined to a limited number of rooms I have no idea. During Glaze’s speech she mentioned something about these guards “recycling”, or something to that effect. I have no inclination as to what that means, but I find I do not want to. Either way, it is late and my shift starts early tomorrow.

Until next time,

Cloudsoft

The note mentioned this factory containing cells... did that mean this was a prison factory? That would make sense. If this was a prison factory, then the guards would need to live here, especially if it was considered a classified prison. And not to mention the actual factory managers to boot. Although apparently their guards were not the best, and were getting replaced. Perhaps if I could search the barracks I could learn more about what took place here. I may have discovered the basics of where I was, but the memory-removing potion and the bloody massacre still had yet to fit in. It’s possible the prisoners rebelled... but what then were those hideous things that I glimpsed?

It was as I made to trot out that my vision decided to go off-the-fucking-chart loopy again. Everything seemingly imploded at the same time, then retracted back to normal in a subitaneous manner. During this sudden mindfuck, I tripped over a table leg and my head plunged through the glass. luckily my eyes managed to avoid being sliced, but the skin next to my ear didn’t, and let me tell you it burned. I could feel slightly warm liquid flowing under my head, and knew I needed to care for that gash. And I would have too, If it wasn’t for the bone-curdling growl from outside. It was lovely that I had a perfect view of the door as I just lay there, so I could watch in awe as it spread my guts all over the walls. Its familiar hoofsteps drummed through the hall and room. I realized that it had heard the glass break, and was coming to investigate.

As it walked painfully slowly, the hoofsteps began to eerily sound like the drums they played at medieval executions. Except much slower and without the drumroll. The pounding in my head returned, adding itself to the pressure on my wound. The sound stopped, and for a second a dared  to hope it would leave. That hope dissipated as it grew closer to my location. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Where had this thing even come from? Had it hidden all this time in one of the rooms? Thump. Thump. Thump. It paused in front of the door, and I got my first complete view of it.

Its hide was pale, like I had glimpsed before, but I now noticed that it was leathery, like a white elephant. Both of its cannons had bandages wrapped around them, spiraling down to the ankles. The creature also had them wrapped lazily around its fetlocks. The mane was equally pale, and draped over its maddening face. The jaw seemed to have been twisted and broken, now hanging carelessly off the skull. The eyes had lost their connection to the muscle underneath, and rolled in opposite directions. Two more bandages hung from its crest around its throat, looking more like a necklace then anything else. Apart from the monster’s distorted features, the part that captured my attention was that this was clearly an earth pony. So who’s twisted idea was it to graft metal wings onto it? In actuality, the pseudo-wings looked unable of flight, but the blades that replaced the feathers certainly gave them another use. One that was further justified by the dried blood on them.

Whatever-the-hell this thing was, it did not come inside the room. It was content to stay out there, at least for the meantime. Its cross-eyed gazed swept the room, searching for the disturbance. I closed my eyes and held my breath in anticipation. I waited for the bladed wing to slice into me, and end my life. I even imagined what it would feel like. Would it be instantaneous? Or would it be slow, the creature taking its time mutilating my body? Or would it just stand there, torturing me by dangling hope in front of me? I apprehensively opened one eye -- It was gone. disappeared. I didn’t even hear it walk away -- although that wasn’t surprising given how fast my heart was beating in my chest. I let out a relieved breath, and subsequently fainted.

0.O.o.0.o.O.0

When I awoke, I entertained the idea that this was nothing more than a nightmare. Perhaps I had gotten drunk, and ate something funny before I fell asleep. The dizziness in my head gave credit to this idea. Maybe I need to sleep drunk more often; it may have been one hell of a trip, but it would make for a great story. Assuming I ever got into writing. The obnoxious smell of smoke entered my nostrils, and I deduced that this might have been caused by the burning of food from my kitchen. But who was cooking? My marefriend, I guessed, she was never the best cook. It was very sweet of her to try, but sometimes things just shouldn’t happen. Then there was the matter of the monsters, and the bloody mess the left behind. I would probably need to talk to a psychiatrist about that. I’ll need to look one up before I leave for work. I wanted to get out of bed, but I was so tired. In fact, every part of my body ached, and there was a pulsating pain next to my ear. Argh, what did I do? Knock myself out with a direct hit to the head? The area around my head felt sticky and itched. I stirred and felt the glass shift under my head.

I came back to terms with my reality. I was not in a room, and most certainly not laying on a bed. My headache was an aftereffect of fainting, and the pain was the deep gash running from above my eyebrow to my ear. With forceful determination I pushed myself back onto my hooves. I looked at the dried blood stain on the floor. Was that why the thing left? Laying collapsed on the floor like that, I must have appeared dead to it. I got off extremely lucky.

I limped over to the makeshift kitchen sink and searched the drawers for medical supplies. I found a bottle of 80% alcohol, a roll of gauze, and some painkillers. I dampened a rag that I placed in my mouth. I shut my eyes in anticipation and poured the alcohol over my wound. Every part of me screamed to voice my pain, but I bit down on the damp rag instead, knowing that voicing my pain would end in my death. I used another rag to wipe off as much liquid as I could, and wrapped the gauze around my head several times. My eyes began to water, and I popped some pain pills in my mouth, and swallowed.

Celestia be praised. Every other room in the hall labeled ‘A’ was locked -- every single one except for 2B 4A. In 4A was several things considered useful by somepony who was lost. Sitting right there on the table in front of the couch, encased in a wooden frame was a simple map. A freaking map. Of course, it had its downsides. The map was not labeled, and parts were missing -- most of the glass it was encased in had shattered, and places were smeared where somepony had rubbed it off. Why the hell did somepony do that? Gah!

The bedroom however was not so beautiful. Dried blood stained the cloud that made up the four walls, and some of it still dripped. Was this… recent? On the bed was a huge puddle of the substance, but I could not find a body. I didn’t know whether to be relieved, or more worried. Opening every dresser drawer, I found the owners ragged saddlebags. Not thinking about what I was doing, I slipped them on. These became very convenient for holding my dead flashlight, and the two bottles of beer I swiped from the fridge.

Then, as I lazily searched the kitchen drawers for supplies, (medical supplies, such as more gauze and anesthetic wipes), I found them. Their small cylindrical bodies were absolutely sexy to me. Batteries -- fucking beautiful, sexy, AA batteries. I hastily unscrewed the top off, and popped them in it. With the flick of a switch, light was restored. Now to restore light to the rest of the factory.

The moment I stepped in the doorway, my head split open and voices poured from my mind. Hoofsteps, two pairs of them echoed in my head. And then a soothing female voice spoke,

“And here are the living quarters. Yours will be 2B 7B -- we’ve recently had a vacancy.”

“Living quarters?” questioned... hang on, that was my voice!

“Yes... living quarters. They did tell you that you will be living here for the rest of your life? It’s not the kind of place you just leave, this is a very secret place, and I run a tight operation here,” she said in a tone that left no doubt that she did indeed run a tight operation.

“Oh, yes I know. It must have just slipped my mind. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this place,” I replied in wonder, or astonishment.

“If it helps, just remember: they are criminals. The worst of the worst.”

“Thank you Glaze, it does.”

With that, the memory ended. What the hell was that? It didn’t hurt that much last time! I took a swig from one of the beer bottles, letting it help dim the pain. Glaze... she was the one I wrote about. The one I should kill if I see her. She was also the CEO, according to Snowy Knight. Why did I want her dead? She seemed nice enough. Did she somehow invoke the riot? Or did she do something worse? Was it something to do with the new guard regime? Too many damned questions!

And not enough answers.

I pulled out the map, and studied it. It revealed a door previously hidden by the dark, one which led graciously to the Guard’s Living Quarters 1B. Before I went there however, I check all the other rooms for supplies. They were all locked. All but one. 2B 7B. My room.

As it was with every other residence in here, my room was no different. The first thing I did when I walked in was raid my fridge. I opened the door and recovered a lovely total of seven bottles of beer. There was also a couple of possibly-flat soda cans as well, and I tossed those in the saddlebag too. Except for one. I brought it to my lightly dusty couch, and guzzled it down. Some of the carbon dioxide had effused, but there was enough to add some kick to the lemon-lime flavor.

I collapsed in my apparent bed. Unlike the others, this one felt soft and cozy. It felt familiar. There was a letter on my nightstand, not in my hoofwriting but undoubtedly addressed to me nonetheless.

Summer Sky,

Really? HER? Come on stallion, you know the problems this will cause. I won’t disagree with you, she is a looker. But think about your position. Think about hers. You don’t think there will be a conflict of interest? Knowing you, you ain’t gonna listen to me. I’m glad you told me though; that’s what friends are for, right? Listen brony, I love ya to death. I do. And if you decide to go through with this, then I’ll back you up. Help anyway I can. Nopony else can know though, if other find out, they’ll think she’s playing favorites. Like fuck she would, but ponies talk. Believe me, I know.

-SK

Lying next to it was another note, this one by me. It was a reply, one that I had never given to him. Touching it filled me with aimless regret.

To Snowy Knight,

I understand that this isn’t the best idea. Already people are becoming suspicious. But... I think I love her. I don’t know, maybe it’s out of desperation, but still. I have feelings for her. Succumbing to the ideals of the workers isn’t going to help anypony. I really hate having to keep writing letters, why couldn’t we just have the same break shifts? That gives me an idea...

I didn’t sign the letter, and the paper it was written on had been crumpled and unfurled several times. I looked around my room in dismay. There was nothing left for me here. Not anymore.