Amnesia: A Machine for Puppets

Malum Ferus

The Cost

The Guards' Quarters were very similar to the normal Living Quarters, or at least from the outside. From where I stood though, the hallway only branched off twice. I contemplated searching the rooms for information, or just moving on -- assuming I could. According to the map, at the end of this hall was the entrance to what I guessed, (based on the pipe schematic rendered in), was the Machine Room. I assumed that was where I could restore power.

As fate would have it, the door leading into the Machine Room (which it was actually called) was locked. Because you know fetching keys is pretty fun. My record so far is that I’ve found zero for one. I stared at the two corridors with disgust. This was going to be fun.

The guards' living quarters were, for lack of a better word, different from the other residences. For one, they were smaller. These rooms had no separate bedroom, or more accurately, they had no living room. The bed was simpler: a cotton mattress on an iron stand. The iron had rusted over time, and the stains on the mattress were covered by gaudy sheets. Covering that was a thick layer of one-hundred percent dust. Another tortured scream floated in and my head snapped to the open door. With apprehension I walked over and closed it. The door made a hideous bang when it shut, and I was sure that the sound would attract that monster. Some nonexistent wind blew wisps of cloud from the wall.

The kitchen took up only half of a wall, and shared it with the toilet. The sink was rusted, the counter had mold and the toilet was cracked along the rim. The only thing that appeared to have improved was the guards had a bigger refrigerator. There was of course, nothing left in it. Nothing but rotten food, at least. There was nothing here that was useful, just the ghosts of memories.

Each room appeared exactly the same, which came as no surprise to me. There was however, one thing that sent a chill down my back. Not only was every room the same, but -- with the exception of mold and dust -- every room was spotless. It looked as if somepony had cleaned it up, just before they left. Left to where?

“Nopony escapes...” the wind freaking whispered to me. Great, just fucking beautiful. Now the wind was talking to me. I grit my teeth and shook my head. Nothing is talking to you. The wind certainly can’t, it’s not sentient. Pull yourself together Sky, before you have another episode. Too late. My breath began to labor, and my heart beat like a dying rabbit’s. I collapsed on the floor; something was ringing in my ears. Celestia, make it stop! I bathed myself in the light from my flashlight. Damn it, what the hell was wrong with me? My headache doubled and my hooves shook vigorously. One of my hooves found its way to my temple, and brushed against the gash there. The sudden pain snapped me out of my nightmare. What the hell keeps happening to me? I was sick of this shit.

I did find the Machine Room Key, as it was labeled, in the penultimate room. At first I was uneasy -- it sat on a table ominously, without anything guarding it. Who leaves a key out in the open like that? There was however a note lying next to, a rather disturbing note at that.

To whoever was unlucky enough to find this,

These are probably my last words. I say that because whatever they plan to do with us will not be good. I implore you to read this and understand. Two years ago, my stallions and I were hired as special operations guards for this establishment. We were wary of what they did here, but we were paid money, and I despise to say that was enough to earn our silence.

At first our job was to the book. We guarded the separate facilities, and made sure that nopony wandered in here unaware. We made friends with the employees, and enjoyed their company. But then we were confronted with another offer. She asked us to seek out more, and bring them back here. She also had a list of names -- the worst of the worst she called them. We were to be paid extra to break them out of jail, and bring them back here. I would like to say that we had to think about it, but we agreed on the spot. So, once a week we would go and bring back those she named, and nopony was ever the wiser.

Except one night, Iron Hoof was sloppy, and alerted the prison we were raiding. It sparked an investigation, one that was just barely able to be headed off by her. Needles to say, she was furious. Then she told us it was okay, she had a plan. I thought we had gotten off lucky, but two months later I realized what she meant.

It was during a board meeting for which I was present. After a presentation that was so boring I cannot even recall what it was about, she dropped the bomb. She has come up with a replacement for us, although that’s not how she put it. Her story was that these ponies would be more efficient, and would cost us less financially. Not that anypony would have argued with her, they were afraid of her. She also said that they would help with recycling, but I did not understand her at the time.

In less than a minute after her speech, I knew we had just lost our jobs. The motto that hangs in the prison cells reads: Nopony escapes the Factory! I can hardly argue with that. What I did not know, was that applied to more than just the prisoners. You see, all of us, workers, guards and criminals alike are all prisoners to this factory. None of us will leave. So, what to do with us now that we served no purpose?

That was where the note ended. If there was more, I couldn’t find it. There was a sinking feeling in my gut, like somepony dropped a five-k pound weight in it. Something happened in this factory, that part I got right. But now I was pretty sure that it wasn’t a cliche prison riot. Something worse had been going on, and the guards had been thrown into it. I heard a knock at the door. I backed away from it, afraid that the monster had found me. Knock knock knock. I turned off the flashlight, just in case, but then the ghost of a stallion’s voice answered.

“Come on in, I’ve been expecting you,” he said in a resigned tone. The door creaked open, and three pairs of hoofsteps walked in.

“My colts start disappearing, and you expect me to not figure it out?” he continued gruffly.

“Does that mean that you’ll come quietly?” a second voice said sadistically. The first nickered,

and there was the tink of a glass being set down.

“Now, why in Tartarus would I do that?” There was a scuffle, the sound of ponies beating the life out of eachother. The fight only lasted for a few seconds. Then the second voice chuckled darkly.

“Put him with the others. Then, let’s head up to the Food bay. I’m starving.”

If that note wasn’t enough to convince me, than that memory was. Something worse had happened here, and I was certain that the creature hunting me was involved. But... what kind of factory was this? It was secret, stole ponies from prisons, and no longer needed guards. Was this some sort of sick laboratory? Were they experimenting on ponies? Then came the million-dollar question.

How was I involved with this?

After I asked that question, it began to dawn on me why I might have taken an amnesia potion. Why I told myself not to dig.

Then came another startling realization. That memory wasn’t mine... was it? It couldn’t be... but it had to be. And that realization made me collapse on the floor. I-I just stood there... didn’t even say a word... No. I was a part of this, what fucked-up twisted mess ‘this’ is. I gave myself a second chance, and I was going to take it. I would get out of here, and I would fulfill my request. I would forget about it. But first, the power. I had the key. As I traced my steps back to the Machine Room, my trepidation was now accompanied by a fleeting sense of guilt for something I couldn’t remember.

My flashlight reflected something bronze. It was a gate... no, it was an entrance. From what I could tell, it opened into an elevator. That was good, it provided me an escape route. The extra benefit was that it was only a few feet from where I was going.

Inside the Machine Room, the first thing any visitor had to do was traverse a long, narrow hallway. Pipes poured into this hallway like tentacles, criss-crossing and weaving around eachother. It was also very dank, and smelled of old oil. The hallway led to the main room, which looked at least two stories high. Against the parallel wall was an enormous cylindrical machine, from which dozens of pipes intertwined into. The machine was crafted from numerous metal alloy plates, all bolted together into a secure container. The bottom slanted inward, forming a sort of funnel. The top had the same effect done to it, with the addition of a large pipe that protruded into the cloud ceiling. There was also a circular window that was obscured by the darkness inside.

On either side of the main reactor were two more devices, although neither cylindrical. One was very boxy, and was surrounded in a systems of tubes and air pressure gauges. a few of these fed into the reactor. A panel on the side opened to reveal a firebox that I assumed fed into a boiler. That must mean this was the steam sub-core.

How a system of Main Reactor and sub-cores worked was as simple as it was complicated. The main reactor itself was an apparatus that heavily relied on magic to work. It was layered: the outmost layer which was visible from that window was filled with a coolant. The coolant was circulated by a series of fans and turbines in the back, and served the purpose of keeping the other layers from overheating. The second consisted of a series of water-filled pipes that wrapped around the third layer, soaking up heat and at the climax turning into vapor, which traveled up the pipe visible on top. There were also multiple wires that ran through here, connected to the third layer as well and carrying a separate form of energy away. The third layer was where all the magic happened; literally. Contained behind a three-inch wall of iron was pure, undaunted magical energy. I was sketchy on the specifics, (either I didn’t know or that part of the information had been erased as well), but that magic was excited, causing it to heat up exponentially. This is what heated the pipes in the second layer, and excess energy was syphoned off into the wires. The steam rose up to a generator on top of this room, I assumed, and was transferred into usable energy there.

Now for the sub-cores. It was extremely rare to hear of a system with only one sub-core, as the second was used in case of a failure. In the third layer was the main core, which controlled the energy. However, that kind of power desired a lot, too much for one core to handle. To combat this, sub-cores were devised to help carry the load. Depending on how large the main reactor was, there could be two to four sub-cores, and most were usually unique in what kind of power they provided, in order to ensure maximum efficiency. The most common were steam and oil, as these were simple to care for. The nicest part was that these systems were easy to manage.

It was a simple matter of pulling labeled levers in the correct order. Well, actually no, it wasn’t. The steam sub-core was empty of coal, and I’ll have to check the oil, but I assumed likewise. Unsurprisingly, there was a small, walk-in storeroom filled with coal set off to the side. I dug out some generous-sized balls of it with a shovel that lay discarded off to the side, and dumped it in the fire box. I pulled a lever and the fire underneath ignited. Slowly but surely, the sound of rushing air and squeaking pistons filled the room. One down.

The oil sub-core was slightly more complicated. I could already see a flaw in how this one was built; one of the major pipes ran directly against the oil tank. While that was not much of a problem while oil was constantly recycling through, if the valve was shut… that oil would build up pressure and heat, both of which are not good in the same place, were even worse surrounded by combustible oil. I pushed the wheel that controlled the valve, and my fears were realized: it had rusted. I would have to start the machine, and then hope the oil flowing through was enough to lubricate it. Hmmm… damn it. There was no other choice. I grabbed a couple cans of oil from the shelf nearby, and poured them into the tank. I pulled the lever, and waited. There was a delay, and then the cogwheels and pistons began to move.

I braced myself against the floor, wrapped my forehooves around the wheel, and pulled down as hard as I could. It still wasn’t budging. The pipe vibrated faintly; there was the oil. I tugged on the wheel again, but nothing. Come on, I’m on borrowed time here… damn it move! I felt heat rising from the pipe. This wasn’t good, actually, “wasn’t good” would be great right now. Celestia’s sexy plot, this thing was in there tight! There vibrating grew, and more heat radiated off the pipe. Damn it, come on! Move for Luna’s sake! I glanced at the lever. If this became too much… no, I wouldn’t have enough time to turn this off. The lever was too far away. This was a make-it or break-it deal. I threw my whole body weight onto the wheel, but not even gravity was able to help. Celestia’s fucking feathers, come on!

And then with a shriek of metal, it moved.

I collapsed with a heavy sigh of relief. The heat began to die down, and I wiped sweat from my brow. The job wasn’t over yet. Both sub-cores were active, and now for the main reactor. As I worked the levers, a familiar, excessively upbeat tune popped into my head, and I had no choice but to whistle it. The pulling of one lever turned on the observation lights inside the reactor. Now my hoof was tapping to the extremely catchy tune. Where in Equestria did that come from? Not that I was complaining, the music made me forget about the horrors that I had experienced, replacing the thoughts with... happiness? Nah, too cliche. Joy? Hmmm... nostalgia? One of those for sure. Another lever started up the main core, adding a harmonious hum to the mix of sounds. Now I was remembering lyrics, and my mind pressed me to sing them, with gusto!

“I’m not a fan of puppeteers, but I’ve a nagging fear someone else is pulling at the strings! Something terrible is going down, through the entire town, wreaking anarchy and all it brings!” Okay, so I’m not the best singer in the world, sue me! Whatever popped into my head seemed to fill every part of me with its exuberation. Without thinking, (and I knew nopony was watching), I began to dance, at points making wild gestures and others pretending to conduct the music flowing in my head.

“I can’t sit idly, no, I can’t move at all. I curse the name; the one behind it al~l!” I brought my hooves up in almost glorious ecstasy, as light returned to the Machine Room. I found that I couldn’t remember the next word, (which I assumed was a name), but that did not stop me. I replaced it with a rather crude, derelict interpretation via pathetic murmurs.

“------, I’m howling at the moon, and sleeping in the middle of a summer afternoon. ------, whatever did we do, to make you take our world aw~ay!”

In the midst of a rather pathetic twirl, a dark chuckle echoed throughout the room. It was sultry and seductive, yet belligerent and malignant. The lights flickered and I fell to the floor in alarm. What in fucking Tartarus was that? A pink bulge of something appeared out of thin air, encasing the hull of the main reactor. It didn’t stop there. It reached out, spreading and growing and extending its grasp across the whole of the room. Tendrils connected the pulsating pink masses. I didn’t pause to think, I just galloped as hard as possible.

Outside, in every adjacent corridor the substance had congealed en masse; there was no escape. It moved as if personified, reaching hungrily for me. I looked every which-way; there was no way out. Then every light in the hallway blew simultaneously. Oh, Celestia fuck me with your horn. You know what? Fuck them with your horn. I could hear it screaming in my ears, blinding all other sound.

Pushing through the haze that had become by mind was a single thought: The elevator. Of course! How had I forgotten? I raced the pink disease as it devoured more of the halls in its effort to engulf me. I pried open the bronze gates; the pink mass was only several feet away, and gaining. The gate door made an awful reverberating bang as I swung them shut. I repeatedly shoved the “UP” button, pouring my discomfort and agony into the motion.

And then the unholy moan from when I awoke was added to the deafening mix. My blood ran like ice, and I upgraded the shoving to pounding. Pink tendrils wrapped themselves around the twin gates, and the depraved moan grew louder and closer. Damn it, fucking go up! The tendrils transformed into bulging masses, and I closed my eyes in preparation. Why in the darkest layer of Tartarus did it have to moan? I would beg it to make some other sound! The screaming in my head was accompanied by a stressful ringing, increasing in intensity.

Every other sound was drowned out by a mechanical rattle, and the resistant whine as the lift began to move. I uncovered my ears, and collapsed, crying. What did I do to deserve this?

...Nopony escapes...