Fallout Equestria: Burdens

Chapter 4- Evaluation

“Something on your mind?”

There has to be another way…

There’s always another way, right?

These thoughts carry anxieties that cut deep. They keep stalling me from going through with this…

Don’t know anything…

What do ya know about any of this?

I just woke up a while ago— the first time I’ve ever woken up… soundly, I guess is the word. I can’t remember a day I’ve ever gotten out of bed not feeling worse for wear or terrified of something. There was always nothing to be terrified of, but somehow raw, real fear finds its way through my veins to make me tremble and sweat till the bed shakes and the covers cling to me.

Ya don’t know them…

How can ya trust them?

She is the first real face I’ve seen since I’ve been here, and talks to me like we’re friends— To get close to ya…To get inside your head.

Quacks and shrinks do that. All my life I’ve seen them, I think I’d know what’s bull and what isn’t by now. I don’t see it in her—Desperate…

For answers. I know they’re hiding up here, somewhere in the farthest corners of my mind. I can’t forget the slow drag of sharp edges across my mental walls. I can feel it now, the creeping, slicing, dragging itch somewhere in the back of my brain as I think about it. It’s hard to not think about it when I’m close to figuring out this gap in my thoughts; how I got here; why I’m here; How safe Avie really is— She’s already safe. Ya don't need to do this.

I need to. It’s something I have to do– Ya don’t–

I know I’m compromising myself like this, but I have to keep my promise. It’s the least I can do— even if I can’t be one hundred percent certain of any of it. There’s still so much I can’t grasp about my situation, and the worst part is knowing that it’s there but cannot for the life of me recall any of it. It doesn’t make sense; it shouldn’t make sense; it’s not supposed to make sense…

Ya already know she is okay. That is all that matters doesn’t it? So why keep going on with this?

I already told myself. I want more answers. Truth be told, with everything I know of this place from all those years having to learn what little we do know…

I really shouldn’t be here… should I?

* * * * * *

“You seem rather absorbed in thought, Ward.” Stagona’s voice broke through my headspace, snapping my senses awake. I take a deep breath, look around the room, and notice the zebra at my bedside with the small little table or nightstand between the two of us. “Is there something you want to say? Something that could be troubling you?”

I look around, again, and back to myself under the sheets covering me. “Is there anything I can wear?”

“Excuse me?” she asks, sounding surprised for a second.

“Garments? Clothes? Anything to cover myself better than the bedsheets?” I elaborate. She just stares, her expression shifting as if she’s playing my words on repeat in her head and it’s making less and less sense. I don’t think it’s that hard of a question. “I’m not gonna do… whatever it is we’re actually gonna do buck naked in bed.” Saying it makes my skin crawl and my feathers ruffle.

“I understood what you meant initially, Ward.” Stagona tells me. “I’m more…baffled.”

“That I’m asking for something to cover myself?”

“Indeed.” She says. “I figured a pony would already be comfortable in their own skin. You’re not without your natural fur coat, and you are currently not exposed to the Grand Aridian element. Why the need for covering now?”

I can’t say I’ve ever felt comfortable in my own fur coat. I can barely keep my discomfort in the public showers or the medical check-ups. Always eyeing me with thoughts I don’t want to imagine they have; invading my space when I never ask for it. I don’t need to feel more eyes on me than what I’ve had to live with, and I don’t want to feel like there isn’t anything between me and them for any reason. I’m just glad Avie understood after a while. I can’t forget about these feelings without remembering how hurt she looked when I asked if she could cover herself… didn’t mean to offend, nor did I mean it like that— I digress.

My mind repeats Stagona’s questions, which I idly shake my head at. I loosen the bedsheet till the bed can’t hold it tautly anymore, and then throw it over myself— making sure everything I want covered is just so. Better this than barding…

There’s a little tinge of comfort, but the way Stagona’s looking at me is quickly snuffing it out. She’s not expressing it completely; I know it looks strange, but it’s not any louder than the gilded tapestry she’s wearing.

I guess the silence lingered a lot longer than normal. I didn’t answer after all the time, and she just shakes her head subtly with a small sigh, “It is fine. I will see to it that we find something comfortable for you to wear, but only once we are done here.”

“Can’t ya just get something quickly? What’s a couple more minutes?”

“There simply is not any to spare. We need to remain committed; to… how do the Mutfalinn say… ‘to strike when the ingots are hot’, I believe. Furthermore, it is believed by my contemporaries and I that being unclothed provides substantial benefit during the process.”

Moot-fay–uh… “Like what?”

“Mediation, Ward; it generally allows for increased comfort, and therefore a much more sound mind.” She reaches under her cloak-blanket, again, and pulls out another oversized marble. It’s not much bigger than the amber stone from before— sitting off to the right, but this new one is pretty much glass. Something about it draws my attention to the center of it where I see… something. It’s not like those colorful ribbons typically seen in marbles, but just a single black-like dot. It should be too small— and the room too dark— to even see it, but I do. It’s unnerving that I can. It’s like my eyes strain and my stomach wants to twist into a knot the longer I look at it; like that feeling someone may get when their mother, angry, bitter, full of malice and contempt starts to come for you… howling your name…It’s staring into me…

My line of sight is broken when a tissue cloth gets draped over it. The things I felt die just as fast. I blink twice, realize I forgot to breathe, and take deep breaths to loosen the strain on my lungs. “What…” I can’t get the words out over what just happened.

“Alarumite-Quartz; our first indicator to what we fear.” Stagona tells me, looking at me with a cautioning disposition.

“ ‘Alarm’...” I think about it for a minute. “About what, specifically?” I can feel my mind wanting to go back to the idea that something else may really be wrong with me.

“Do you remember what we discussed back in the White Room?” She asks.

“Ya told me a lot of things…”

She clears her throat. “Yes, I did. But do you remember how I told you— before we pulled you out of the Room— that all we want answers?”

I nod, pensively. She brings a hoof closer to the clothed marble. “This is just a precaution. The precaution to a fear that what we both may find can be… more concerning than any of us could anticipate.”

I begin to shake my head at her words. “Why are ya talking to me like that? What are ya trying to say, really?”

“We are not sure what we are going to find.” Stagona clarifies. “If you knew any more than you do, now— and told us— then maybe things would be a little more different. For now, all we have are ‘maybes’ and a gap in your story. The Saan-Al'Kima along with her Council do not want any risks. Please understand, Ward, our intentions are not to alienate or make you feel unwelcome. Do you not remember?”

Remember what, exactly? What went on in that… white nothing? As far as I know, there are still gaps in this present story. Why am I being treated like there’s more than just memory issues with me? Is there something they’re all not telling me? There has to be—

“I still promise you answers. We still promise you more answers.” She tells me, gently. “What we are going to do, now, is to help you and us, respectively. Who knows, we may both find what we are looking for in this.”

I can feel my uncertainties tugging on me. My head shakes a little bit, then itches when my mind thinks back to that mask and that horrid blight infesting it. I can feel the nerves in my hoof that touch it want to twitch like mad with discomfort and worry.

“Can’t ya just tell it to me straight… Is–” A lump gets caught in my throat and is hard to swallow. “Is the Curse involved in this somehow?”

A silence hangs in the air. My thoughts tell me to take it as a confirmed ‘yes.’ “We do not know for certain, Ward—”

“So it’s possible, then, that all of this is because I–” My words halt with my thoughts, and they suddenly turn to questions. The pang of contradiction pulled at me from both ends, threatening to snap me in two. ‘Nothing comes back from what they call ‘The Brink’…’ It’s the only bit of knowledge I have to go on for what happens to those who become a victim to The Curse. But how can I possibly know what that means? As far as I know, there isn’t any pony who’s gone through it and has given anything lucid and concrete about the things they see. It’s like asking the dead what comes after.

Damn it, what are the odds this is some kind of hell that’s all too like the real world? There can’t— I mean—

“Fuck!” I slam a hoof into my bedside. I’m tired of hearing these thoughts in my head and feeling them knead at my heart like dough. They’re stalling me! It’s a fucking conspiracy, and my head’s in on it!

“I cannot imagine just how—how do you say… ‘twisted on the inside,’ you must be feeling.” Stagona’s soft words reach me with that familiar burnt smell. Another cup of coffee waits for me at my end of the table, along with a green apple. “I have been told you like green apples. Maybe this will settle things before we move on. We have stalled enough, and it is imperative that you have as clear a head as possible. It will make traversing the recesses of your mind relatively easier.”

* * * * * *

My stomach would’ve settled better if it was hot water instead of that dirt water. However much I managed to make it down my gullet, it’s only making my stomach more frenzied; the bitterness, remembering how strong it is makes me writhe on the inside. The green apple probably didn’t help either. I never thought I’d have to eat the entirety of it, let alone a coreless one. It all isn’t mixing inside, and my anxiety of anticipation are both reveling in it— whether it’s sitting up on the bed, or laying down in it like Stagona asked me to.

I turn my head to the right;, she’s gotten rid of the small table stand between us and is sitting at my bedside. She reaches for my left hoof, my muscles tense immediately.

“What’re ya doing?” I ask.

“Getting us started. I need you to take the Gleaning Stone in your left hoof and hold it to yourself.” She tells me, passing the stone over. “I am sorry. I should have told you first.”

My stare doesn’t let up. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being dotted on like I’m a veteran who can’t control any part of himself. Maybe it’s more a feeling of being physically touched by somepony… some zebra that I just met. It’s a gross feeling on my skin, and I feel that part of my hoof wanting to peel away like scurrying sugar ants.

“Just run it by me, next time.” I tell her, taking the stone in my left hoof and staring at it. “So how does this work, do I just hold onto it or…”

“Yes, hold it as you are doing right now— at your chest.” She tells me. “Are you comfortable enough?”

“As comfortable as I can be.” I confirm, moving my back a little in the sheets. “Wouldn’t it be better if I was sitting up, or something?”

“The transmitter… you… must be in an as comfortable position as possible for this to work.” She explains. “We have found that for ailing Remembrancers, it is usually in a reclined position— or in bed as you are.”

‘Ailing…’ I take another glance at the dark amber stone. It’s really smooth to the touch in the frog of my hoof. It’s got some weight to it, too— I’m just starting to feel it weigh in on my chest. It won’t be crushing me anytime soon.

My ears flick to the hydraulics of a door opening. I sit up a little to see what’s going on. Stagona’s at the door, the white light pouring in is almost blinding.— I can’t make out who she’s talking to. Whoever they are, they’re far taller than her. My ears try to focus on the mumbling, but I can’t make out anything she’s saying… I’m not even sure if I’m hearing proper words, or if it’s my mind trying to make sense out of the nonsense from across the room.

The door closes, the mumbling dies instantly. Stagona makes her way back to my bedside, and there’s something in the air that’s making me feel like a foal who did something they weren’t supposed to— like sneaking in on their mother during her… moment.

“I’m sorry I walked off.” She tells me. “I was just double-checking on some things outside the room.”

It wouldn’t be the smartest thing to make an assumption of anything. I know I only heard mumbling, but still… curiosity’s a nagging little thing at any age, I guess. “Is it anything I should be worried about?”

“No, not at all.” She reassures me. “It would be that the Saan-Al’Kima and her Council are wanting to know our progress.”

It wouldn’t be much to tell her, all things considered…

“What about Avi—Aviatrix? Any updates?”

She shakes her head. My ears droop. She takes a deep breath and fixes her headpiece. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to say. This process, a ‘mindscaping’, if you will, is unlike the recollectors that the Enclave may be familiar with. In this process, memories cannot be extracted— willingly or otherwise. Instead the Gleaning Stone will allow the both of us to sort out the transmitter’s memories— your memories; to find and clear away mental fog and deterioration…”

It’s starting to make sense, but the unease of the unknown still lingers around me. “What will we both see?” It’s all still fresh– these feelings and speculations that make my stomach tingly and my mind fraught with nervousness. Where will my mind go with it? What will we both see when we finally hit that block in the road? What can be waiting for us? Why… Why am I saying it like that? And why do the butterflies in my stomach flutter much more aggressively at the thought? Why can I hear myself in the back of my mind just screaming to leave it alone? What do I know that I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing– if that makes any lick of sense?

“... as I have stated before, this is a very invasive process. The upside to all of this is you are in control. My questions are only to help you find your way in the expanses of your own mind.” She further explains, then I notice her unveil the clear marble from before. She reaches out, gently, with her free hoof. I stare at it… does she need something from me? “The process starts by a joining of free hooves and some focusing light on the Gleaning Stone.”

Uh… okay, then… Slowly, pensively, I reach out to her hoof with my free right one. As soon as they touch, the ball of light illuminating the room starts coming closer, bringing its luminosity down as it does. It bobs between the two of us, and then it eclipses itself behind the stone resting on my chest and held by my left hoof.

“Your ears to my voice; your eyes to the light in the stone…” She tells me, in a voice not unlike someone trying to maintain volume in a room full of light sleepers. “...let the light pass through you, to show you what you must know; in your mind— your house of memory. Listen to my voice and stay with the light…”

I can see cirrus and cirrostratus clouds in the stone. They’re frozen in the light and begin to shimmer— first subtly, but now as clear as day. They flow like a breeze is being blown through them… It’s a nice day…

They expand, swirl into each other and block out the warm glow of the sun in the stone… a cold cloud-cover is all I see, but the underlying clouds begin to cyclone. The cover does not let up, but the eye of that cyclone grows darker. There is nothing left to see, but an empty, black sky—

* * * * * *

Something’s off…

I touch my face;, my eyes are open,; I can feel them blink, too, but the darkness doesn’t change. The faint hum of the air recyclers— or the air conditioners…or both– whichever it is, I can still hear it. My bed still creaks when I shift, and the spread is still itchy and heavy; suffocating.

My hoof reaches for my chest and— I know I should panic; I feel it in my heart now, but I already know it isn’t there? And I won’t find it? What am I thinking? Why am I thinking that—

The overhead light’s light glows pale like a star. The dense darkness overhead does not retreat or fade away, but stays as it was. As it always has been…

I throw off my covers and then my hind legs off the side of the bed. That whole sweeping motion together is enough to tire me out, and my eyes remind me why that is. They sag and threaten to close, but I just take deep breaths and rock my head back to get the tiniest crick out of my neck. I’d want to get myself covered up fast, but I guess I slept in my uniform. A little wing stretch and ruffle, and I’m off to meet the dull day.

The moment all four of my hooves meet the floor, immediately something’s made different. The barracks around me are replaced by something else. It's… just a hall. No matter which way I looked– left or right– it’s the exact same thing: an endless stretch with countless doors, and the fact that I can see every one of them when I shouldn’t— I-I don’t know how else to describe it. There should be lights, but there aren't. It’s as if these doors carry a light of their own, and I am aware of all of them. The number of them… uh… I’m not sure if there really is one.

This place has changed… or has it always been like this?

“Can you hear me?”

That voice… I know it. A name immediately comes to mind… Stagona?

“Yes. Can you tell me what you see?”

Everywhere I look is either the stretch to infinity; a hydraulic door indicative of underground shelters and stables; the cold, metal floors and gray walls; doors, doors, and doors going on and on for the length of the hall; a void for a ceiling, with lights that are… just there. I don’t– I can’t explain it. They just are…

Where… It feels… I don’t know. It feels fluid— if that makes any sense. Like this isn’t normal— I know it isn’t, but I feel… content? Like it was always like this?

“Sometimes we are comfortable in our own heads; sometimes not. What you see, currently, is… Hypnagogic; a dreamlike representation of your own mind filtered through the Gleaning Stone…”

I can recognize the steel walls as I get closer to look and feel them to the touch. They’re the bunker’s walls, the cage’s guts buried deep below the arid land; without murals for comfort, or banners meant to indoctrinate and instill pride. There was none of that— only a layer of fear; of a cold that bites deep to the bone… It’s not here, but I can still feel it…

“What do you feel?”

O’Leery. That’s what we called our flag. It hung over us so much, I’m sure the majority of newborns saw those eyes first before our mother’s or the doctor’s. They peer at ya from under the dark arch… I swear they followed me, always; they were ice blue, and ya feel them on ya. Invading your privacy; always watching, and never wanting to let go of ya…

“Remember why you are here. Take us to the time your assignment was given to you and your team. What were you told?”

I see it from where I stand. Somehow, someway, down this endless hall there is one door I need to open. The entire hall contracts, without any way of me knowing that I’ve moved; no directional breeze or shift in place, I’m just there, the door I need is in front of me. It opens…

It smells volatile inside, like old office carpet or a classroom after it’s been cleaned. The fluorescent lights buzz as the room illuminates. It’s our briefing room 2B, just as it was that morning. There are ponies dispersed throughout the seating— sitting and facing the front– towards the Hologlass Map, elevated platform, and podium.

“Who is in the room?”

My squad… half my full squad; my designated fireteam. The Captain, our scout and heavy… Avie… We’re all here, all waiting for the– the General at the pedestal to tell us what the situation is. It was something about our other fireteam…

“What did she say?”

“...their search and retrieval mission has also become your search and rescue..."

I’m hearing it in her voice—in that old mare’s voice. It’s so in the moment, as if she’s there in the room…My blood is cold; I can feel my veins crystalize and frost over with each word being heard in that seasoned, droning voice. Do I really need to relive these things? These feelings?

“Has anything changed? Do you see anything different?”

My eyes scan the space around me… Nothing…

“Stay with the memory a little while longer. Please, continue telling me.”

“...half of them are missing with debriefing revealing that they had been lost in a Catalyst Sandstorm while retrieving the priority payload. Whether they are dead or alive you will bring back what you can and destroy everything else. Is that clear?”

“Hmm… Interesting. Yes, some of this appears to line up.”

"Captain, here is the detail and the written orders for the engineers at the hangar. If a Corporate asks, it is Level 6 clearance." The memory continues… “Do not disappoint me. Do not disappoint your family. Do not disappoint the Enclave.”

Everypony in the room snaps to a salute, while I barely attempt to do the same. She’s looking at me again, leering into me… and who’s next to me. My muscles petrify; my throat closes. Everyone in the room makes their way to the exit— at the door I stand at. They fade through me like a ghost. I don’t even feel them…

“Master Sergeant Trade Wind.”

Her words pierce through me. No matter how much brain power I use— no matter how much I scream in my head to move, my legs won’t; mine and my figment self in front of me. I stand there wide-eyed as I feel her shadow crawl towards me.

“I need some of your time.” Her words floated through the air and slithered into my ear. My lungs seize up, but I dare not show it. Not to her.

I look to the door in front of me, and this yearning feeling tries to claw its way up from inside me. Those amethyst eyes from Avie’s face look at me with worry.

"This does not concern you," Diamond Dust firmly tells her off, her words stopping the mare at the door from backtracking to me. "Dismissed, Tech Sergeant."

‘I’ll be fine…’ I meant to say something else. I couldn’t leave on my own—I had to, though. For her safety… It hurts… It feels self-inflicted, but at the same time it does not.

I can’t keep going with this memory…

“Is this how you say hello to your dear mother, Trade Wind?" Her voice, couth, gentle— two-faced and wicked. My manes’ crawling, hearing it again. My nerves are misfiring, making it hard to do anything else. I keep my eyes down, away from hers. Everything freezes in that line of sight. The memory of those eyes feel too real! “Look at me…” She pleads.

“Ward, you can walk away from it. Remember what’s important; remember why you are here. Remember the mission!”

“Trade Wind…” The General’s voice is right in front of me. I can feel the weight of her presence where I stand. It’s hard to pretend how shaky I really am. “LOOK AT ME!”

My gaze snaps up, but the door has vanished. The tone of her voice fades, and the weight of the memory lifts immediately. I can breathe again, but I take in a bit too much and brace the wall to keep myself up. My cheek… it stings all of a sudden.

“Do you want to take a break, Ward? Or can you continue?”

As much as I want to, I can’t. It was a bad dream… a bad memory… I thought I wouldn’t have to relive it.

“You got lost in the memory, Ward. It is what happens. Sometimes it cannot be helped, but thankfully it has ended. I’m sorry.”

I had let some of that through. I know it was a memory, but it was just too real to fight back. I could’ve ended it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Damn it all…

“The good news is that we have a way forward. It should be easier now, to find the necessary memories. Let us see… Take us to the mission at hoof; take us to the outpost. Do you remember the outpost?”

The hallways from before are different now. It feels less overwhelming; somehow smaller than what I thought. I know where I need to go, and I walk when my strength comes back. It is different from the last time. I can hear sand blowing, feel it in the air and in my eyes while it comes down the path ahead. When I clear my eyes, a booted forehoof meets them; my dress uniform has been instantly replaced by the Stormtrooper combat fatigues. Looking up from myself, the hallways have expanded out since I last saw it; sand has replaced the cold steel under my hooves. I can see the dunes for miles, but there’s still nothing illuminating the dunes overhead.

An instinct urges me to turn around, and I do. The Vertibuck— Avie’s Vertibuck— sits at the landing pad, looking down at me. Whichever my head turns, I see things come into view– from the loose networks of trenches; to tents atop mounds where makeshift observation posts are held up; to the comms center; to the barbed wire and defensive fortifications keeping the outside away from this place. The things I see are never consistent when I turn my attention away from them; they’re either different in place and appearance, or completely absent.

“Same place; different memories and experiences. Sometimes they overlap, and sometimes we forget the details.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been here more than once…

My attention is back to the Vertibuck. Its right-side cabin door is open now, and I see four pegasi hop out. Their features are blurred and vague; I can still make them out. It’s like whatever makes them is made out of smoke and is flickering like the wind does to fire. I don’t know how else to describe it…

“Northeast,” the first Pegasi figment says. It sounds like the Captain, but his voice is grainy; windy; like hearing a poor-quality vinyl play on an old and weary phonograph. The figment making his voice points a wispy wing outwards, “That’s that way. Do we have everything?”

“This is matching up.”

We had everything… almost everything. It turns my guts into squeamish knots, and makes my breathing heavy to know we were leaving some of the team behind. We were leaving Avie behind; our only pilot, alone in a camp full of… I can’t even call them fellow soldiers. They looked like pegasi; they were more… pegasus-shaped monsters wearing the skins of what may have been decent ponies. All it took was one aggressive mare to know it wasn’t all right…

“I see…”

The Captain was more focused on the missing team. We still had no clue if they were… whatever counts as dead, or alive. Avie was our lifeline to a quick getaway if things went south, and we were leaving her. I couldn’t accept that, and I might as well have bitten my tongue off for how fucked it sounded.

“Did you not have confidence in her? In your pilot?”

Nopony is invincible. Ya can have all the confidence in the world, but it makes for an empty shield against the real dangers literally all around us at the moment…

Verified Vertibuck Pilots are invaluable. They are far more specialized than any pegasus qualified to fly the steel air-cav; more qualified than all of us. More valuable than us…

I couldn’t do anything. I could’ve gone against direct orders and stood my ground and left them with my share of the supplies. I can’t trust a dog like The Captain not to rat me out to the General; I couldn’t rely on my disgusting status as the General’s son to reinforce my want to keep her safe. It’s all rigged against me… It’s just not fair…

“Please focus, Ward, I believe we are almost there. Take us to the destination; to where your General needed you to be.”

The words dispel the figures, the Vertibuck, and the base around me. They all become plumes of sand blown in a wind I can’t feel. The dunes around me begin to move rapidly in one direction as if I’m flying over them at flight speed. What seems like an endless sea of dust drops off. My movement is halted at the very edge of the canyon— it is more of a ravine than a crack in the earth as I remember it. There is nothing else beyond it, and looking down I only see the same abyss as the one overhead. I look to my left, the edge keeps going; to my right, it’s the same thing. This is just like the first hallway…

Instincts catch on, again. I look back to my left and see five even wispier pegasi-like shapes standing over the edge. They descend in a systematic fashion over it and disappear into the blackness below. I can’t see anything down there. No matter how much I squint and focus in that dark, I can’t make out anything– in front of me… In front of me?

All around me, the rock walls stretch high into the abyss above. But… that can’t be it, can it? I’m already in the canyon? I was just up there– I didn’t– I don’t think I even jumped down here on my own– what– how?

“In our own minds, things appear more fluid. It is best to keep going.”

I stand and watch the ledge above me go higher, higher until I can’t even see it. It’s much deeper than I remember. My gaze comes back down and I stare ahead of me. The longer I stare down the corridor ahead of me, the more things feel…off. It’s weird enough to see the things— feel the things—I'm experiencing but compared to that one memory this one is… I can’t say I feel any safer.

As much as I want to high-tail it— to say I want out— I can’t. Every time I do, this strong feeling of deja vu pulls me down that way. I’ve been here before, but it feels like I need to see this. It’s why I’m here, right?

They’re just my memories…

They’re just memories…

Mine…

I stare down that familiar path a little longer, take a deep breath and walk.

* * * * * *

It’s all the same; all of it.

The way the sand crunches under my hooves; the way the smooth walls ripple like waves; the dark veil ahead of me keeping a consistent distance. I keep walking towards it— fixated on seeing what’s beyond it. No matter how much I walk or how fast, I can’t get anywhere near it. It tantalizes me— leaving me to think that it and the deja vu I’m feeling are conspiring against my need to know. It’s just like what it was back in the White Room— always so close, but never getting any closer no matter the effort!

I haven’t felt tired; I don’t get hungry; the frustration is the one thing I’m feeling. I grind my teeth— break into a sprint and hold my breath like it will give me the requisite speed boost! Nothing to show for any of it— no closer!

It’s no use!

“So we have reached it. The gap is right here.”

What happens now? I can try flying back up to the edge, maybe go around it? Is that even possible?

“A mask… you mentioned a mask. Do you see anything resembling a mask?”

Mask? I don’t see anything that’s a mask…

“It was buried, was it not? Under the sand? Look for it.”

My eyes drop down and I sweep the gritty mess once across, and then again. I use both my hooves now, and even my wings on occasion. I dig away at the spot under me, feeling an even stronger sense of deja vu than I originally had. Yes! This’ gotta be something!

I keep going… and going… and going… I’m not feeling any closer to what I’m looking for. I’ve been digging for a while now, and I’m not even seeing anything that even remotely looks like a mask. There’s just sand– it probably goes on for miles!

I growl at my progress and pull myself out of the hole— a hole that is a little deeper than I thought it actually was. The fatigue in my limbs from the repeated motions nearly becomes cramps, but the pain that comes from it never shows up.

The hole I dug sits there between me and the darkness ahead. I stare at both of them a little longer, trying to think. What’s missing? I was on the right track, wasn’t I? This can’t be it. I’m literally digging myself into a hole and trusting that it’s the way to go, but… Fuck, I’m getting nowhere! There’s no use arguing what may have felt right about it— for all I know I’m lying to myself that I’ll find answers going about it like that!

What are ya hiding?! What am I hiding?! The answers are right there, barely out of reach, and— nothing! The same fucking song and dance! The frustration builds the longer I sit here, and I pound the wall to feel unstuck. When I don’t feel any better, I take an idle rock and throw it at the darkness that still taunts me…

I don’t know what’s more strange: the fact that the rock didn’t even make it past the darkness’ border, or that what I heard sounded like a rock hitting at reinforced plexiglass.

“What was that?”

The rock physically hit the dark. It’s like an actual physical barrier. I repeat the process once more with another rock making sure to see it happen. As soon as contact is made, the whole veil ripples like water where the impact was, and then the rock, itself, drops straight down.

Getting a closer look, the veil really did move farther away from me. The rocks I tossed sit where they dropped, but the darkness is now farther away from where they sit. Taking a few steps back, it creeps up; moving closer, again, it recedes.

This still isn’t helping me any…

“Do you wish to stop? Rest may lead to something we both are not seeing…”

What we both are not seeing… Why is that feeling like it makes sense?

What is beyond that veil?

If I can’t get through, or the rock can’t get through… what about light? Fuck me… why didn’t I think about that sooner? I look at my person for anything that may have materialized on me when I changed clothes, but there’s nothing I can use. I guess it’s too much to think that I’d have all my gear and armor plating along with the faded and worn cam—

My breathing stops for a minute. Feelings of relief and warmth come to me, somewhat. I thought I didn’t have ya. I thought I lost ya— I’m sure I did. Were ya here all this time?

I pull away at the velcro strap running down my center. Resting on my chest, my talisman twinkles brightly— brighter than I ever thought it could. Gently, I cusp it in one of my hoof’s frogs and bring it closer. It’s really, really warm; soothing. My talisman… Mother…

“It is…”

My attention snaps like my fur standing up. Who the fuck said that?

“Said what?”

It’s something else— it was something else that didn’t sound familiar. I look around in my immediate area but there’s none of those figments or anything to make words like that. It’s just us, right?

“Yes, just us. Ward… is everything okay?”

I feel my heart racing and my joints tightening; my blood running colder than usual and my nerves cranking up with sensitivity. I can’t say I feel alright…

“...How?”

I snap around and find nothing there! My wings ruffle and my skin crawls ferociously; that was in my ear! There’s nothing but the same black veil in front…

In front of…

My talisman… that strange light it had earlier, it’s shining through. I can see beyond the dark, now, and it’s a slow crawl to see what’s on the other side, but something isn’t feeling too right about all of this.

There’s a nagging feeling in the back of my mind– a lingering dread; like deja vu that’s heavily fixed on the side of apprehension. I shouldn’t be here, is what it’s telling me. I can hear those words begging in the building gust of hot air that’s blowing through me from further ahead. It’s getting hotter, gustier, and more aggressive the further I go. That voice of apprehension is gone with the wind and replaced by several voices— all of them screaming in a mix of terror and pain.

The darkness closes in around me, but the light of my talisman stays strong. The looming presence of the canyon walls vanishes into an open scape. I can barely see a thing— it’s a brownout; a severe sandstorm peppering me with millions of sand specks that burn my skin on contact. I shield myself with my wings and press on.

Those pained voices, they’re everywhere– hollering with the wind all around me. I’m surrounded by those noises. They circle me like vultures, pleading for me to stop. Some call me a monster; others just scream in abject terror. They smell like burning cocktails; flamer fluid; ash and smoke. Between my feathers, I can see something burning in the distance. I’m hurled towards it…

The Outpost is on fire, munitions are scattered about; errand signs of a skirmish are everywhere. The fires roar around me— yelling at me to stay away! They all sound like I should know whose voices are being used, but trying to remember makes them turn to static noise. All of the fire is spiteful. They spit at me, call me disgusting; an abomination; lost. I’m nowhere near the flames, and I can feel my skin wanting to split from the heat.

There are shapes in the wind— more wispy, vaguely pony-shaped figments. Some lay motionless on the ground like mangled dolls. There are dozens of them all around me. Screams are carried into my ear through the wind; gagging, convulsive babbling— a mix of crying and maddened pleas; glass shattering, flames roaring against a monstrous sound…

A great fire erupts from just in front of me. All the fibers in my body shriek at the sight and hateful intensity of the red flame; my eyes won’t look away, they only widen to see the evil in that flickering madness. ‘Purify! Purify! Burn the lost; Purify!’ I can hear it chant and rave. ‘I’m a monster; an abomination; I need to be put to rest; I’m lost to this world, to myself; I have lost my place in this world.’

It’s creeping closer; the heat is rising with my heart rate. Where do I go? What now?! One word rings loud and frantic like a bell with my heart’s pace: ‘Run! Run! RUN!’ I kick up sand in a mad dash from the danger. The heat’s gaining— eager and desperate to put an end to me. The roars sound like please to reason— telling me to stop running. My pace quickens!

I need to get out of here; I need to get out of here; I need to get out of here; get out; get out; get out; lemme out! Lemme out! Lemme out!

“...Set us free.”

The ground disappears.

Falling; my wings won’t flap for me.

The hellish streak of light keeps going overhead, getting farther and farther away; thinner and thinner until it vanishes into the nothingness around me.

There’s nothing, now— that's all I feel I can say about where I am; absence for miles… I can look anywhere, and what I see doesn’t change. I’m not falling anymore— I’ve always been standing. Was that even called falling back there? There was no free-falling, flutters-in-your-stomach feeling to it; the center of gravity didn’t feel like it changed the whole way down, but my hooves were up in the air and I was staring at the world above me fade into nothing.

Maybe I should take a break from this. It felt too real, my hooves are still shaking and I’m sweating like crazy. I’m ready to get out of here and try again next time…

…Stagona?

That Zebra’s voice always found a way to answer or provide context. I thought she’d be able to hear me now. Where are ya? Stagona?!

Still no answer…

The blackness around me becomes a dull, flickering orange. There’s harsh, panic-stricken breathing in my ears. Fog clouds my vision, and my face feels like it’s in a smelly steam bath. I wipe my eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to help me. The fog is inside my helmet, and I don’t want to take it off; I’d be welcoming the void to strangle me, again…

The radio flicks to life. I play with the frequencies… Stagona? Stagona?! Avie?! Guys?! Anyone?!

Still nothing. My teeth are grinding against each other— what good is a fucking radio if it can’t send or pick anything up?! Is it even this place? Or is it just me? I can’t have forgotten the basics of a helmet radio, have I? I don’t know… I don’t–

Everything’s so fuzzy and floaty, now. There’s nothing… No, there’s something there. Is that— I can see it; can see ya. Weren’t ya here with me a while ago? I check my chest, and it’s bare. How did ya get over there? Did I lose ya when I fell into this place— Found myself in this place? I still don’t know where I am. Maybe ya can show me the way out. Ya got me here, after all— ya gotta know something. Right?

The closer I get to it, the more pronounced the glow is; the more sure of myself I become. This feels right like it’s something I have to– and need to– do. The orange glow around my vision flickers out, replaced by my talisman’s on the… the floor? Can it be called that if there’s nothing under-hoof? Doesn’t matter.

My hoof feels warmer the closer I bring it to the talisman. When I finally touch it, a smile tugs on the ends of my lips. I got ya…

“...Yes…You do.”

What–

The whole of my hoof is shot up with a searing cramp. I try to move it, but it hurts too much. It’s stuck in place, tugging away makes my ears ring and my body buckle. All the warning bells in my head still scream at me to move, but every cell in my body pleads to stop! They’re screaming to let go– to not let go– that doing anything hurts worse, and will continue to get worse. They’re telling me to let go of the talisman as its glow becomes too much for my eyes to look at. But I can’t— I can’t! My hoof’s grown too numb to listen– it won’t pull away from it; it’s stuck!

I can’t see anymore, but I can feel everything happening to my hoof. My skin’s blistering, tearing at itself; the flesh is rending while all the nerves are shot to hell! I can’t think; the pain’s taken my focus, making me feel everything! Bones break to make way for growths erupting from under my skin. It doesn’t stop; it wants all of me; to become me; to see me disappear in this hellish misery. It wants my heart, my mind, my soul, and it will devour all of them and leave me to shrivel till I’m nothing but a memory in my own body!

“... You can be free if you tell us.”

Help me…

“... No consciousness can reject the blessings, but somehow you did. You got away, and somehow you defied us. We would never let you go for what you have done. Defiler of our sacred duty, where…”

I can’t… What are ya? Who are ya?

“...We remember you; we will always remember. We know you have it. Where is it?”

Get out of my head… get out of my head!

“Where is it?!”

* * * * * *

I’m falling off the edge, and I feel myself slam into the floor. My head’s throbbing too hard to keep my eyes open, my ears still ring, and my heart’s racing so fast that I can’t hear the individual beats.

I can’t hear anything that’s going on, but in my strained, choppy vision I can see striped ones backing away with a panicked pace, light flickering in and out, and a cracked smokey ball of polished stone rolling into view. Every time I close my eyes, it pulsates a different color; a vile color. I can hear hoof steps echo in my head and a shape in the clouds growing bigger and bigger. A hoof-like shape reaches out for me and begins to push through the cracks in the stone itself. My head screeches like a corrupted radio signal, but I can’t lift my hooves to cover my ears. I can’t even scream to project the pain wracking my cognition.

A flash comes out of nowhere; the orb is gone, and my head stops ringing almost instantly. There’s nothing in front of me, but glassy shards scattered about the floor and wisping smoke from someplace I can’t see.

I can’t keep my eyes open anymore…

* * * * * *

Everything comes back; breathing, hearing, touch—my eyes open, again. I look about the space in front of me, and it’s so dark. It almost feels like… like the barracks. It isn’t; it smells different, like an empty room or a room that’s never been lived in. There’s no snoring, no errand sounds of ponies shifting in their beds. This isn’t the barracks…

It’s difficult to get up– I can’t tell if it’s from another night of insomnia, or if it’s the way I laid down in my bed. My joints are all creaky— and my right foreleg is painfully sore and it’s crawling with ants; pins and needles. Now I’m more convinced I slept wrong— probably slept on it at some point. I don’t know, my head’s still fuzzy as all hell, but I can still feel everything that’s happening to that hoof— it’s annoying, but not strong enough to wake me up completely.

And my head… fuck me, it feels bloated at the front. My eyes feel like they wanna pop, fall out, or both. It’s like I have to dig my hooves into my eyes on purpose to make sure neither happens immediately after pulling myself over the side of the bed.

“You are awake. Thank the gods.” I follow that zebra mare’s voice across from me. She’s standing on the other side of the room as the glow bulb from before shines to life gently. “You remember me? Do you remember who I am?”

I nod to both of her questions and remember the elaborate blanket she wears; the initial headache some of its patterns gave me; her stripes; the way she sounds when she speaks; even her bad taste in caffeinated dirt water. The glass ball comes to mind, and then… well… I’m not too sure. I’m shaking my head a little to make the details clearer, but everything feels shot; distant. I give myself a few hoofs to the temple like it’ll jumpstart it, but it does nothing other than aggravate my throbbing brain.

“Please, do not agitate yourself,” Stagnoa tells me. “You had quite the nasty journey, and a lot has been done to ensure it could not happen again.”

I’m in bed again? Or… was I always in bed? I can’t— it makes my head hurt more. How many times have I been getting up from stuffy pillows and sheets? I thought I didn’t sleep as much anymore… Why am I suddenly coming in and out of these things?

I bring one of my wings around and rip a few feathers out at once, without a second thought. It hurts… almost brings tears. Stagona exclaims with shock and rushes over, “Stars above, why on this good earth would you do something like this?!”

It hurts…What was that saying? Pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. How much does it have to hurt to know? Does it need to be something more… more blood? More scream-inducing?

I spit out the feathers and watch them dance down toward the floor. My eyes wander, and so do the hoof and forehoof that still tingle. The bedframe doesn’t feel sharp enough– that or I’m not feeling the edge, right? It’s hard to say; harder to tell. The footboard of the bed looks like it’s got narrow-enough edges that can make something hurt.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three hard smacks against that metal-lined edge. Those invisible ants crawling under my skin disperse with each impact, scurrying harder in multiple directions as waves of pain wrack my forehoof. Feeling all of it forces my jaw open; no scream to give, even if I’m begging in my mind— hearing myself yell in desperation— for one to come out. I fold over the hoof as it starts to burn and pulse with sore pain; the tingling is fiercer, now, and nowhere near numbed.

“Ward!” Stagona cries out in shock. I feel her hooves come down on my back and her muzzle near my face. “Ward, what did you do?!” What did I do? What did y'all do to me?! “Let me see, Ward! Let me see!” I can feel her hooves try to get at mine, and all I want is for her to get away from me. I back away— try to get away; to run! “Let me s—” I throw my weight at her, and we both fall onto the floor.

I try to get up, but all my hooves feel tingly and numb at the tips. All of the pins and needles scurry like ants, again, on the forehoof that I whacked scatter and resettle— making it exceedingly difficult to stand on it. The blaring pain from where I know my hits landed tell me how hard I’ve actually hit it, and I wince every time it blips aggressively.

The door is right there. If I can just—

“Ward, please! Calm down!” She’s insistent on getting me to sit still. I won’t. Not this time! “Please ca–” Her words die instantly with a shove that sends her into the bedframe where it screeches and skids. Now or never!

I turn my attention back to the door, and I catch something really fast square in the nose. The force of the impact sends me falling onto my back before I can even get up. The pain fills my sinus; scrunching my face is utter hell. Every single nerve in my nose is on fire, and it’s a fucking tear-jerker. It’s more than I’d hope to feel from what I just did to myself. There’s the smell of blood; the wet, hot feeling of something running down both my nostrils.

I strain to see what just hit me. In the warm, blurry light, I see the shape of something covered in a veil of gold or brass-colored sparkles rise over me. It plants itself right into my gut like a ton of bricks. I instantly feel like I’m going to blow chunks and suffocate on it. Stars dance in my vision with the circling glowbulb as I hold my sore belly, trying to take back my breath.

“Wildcat, that’s enough!” Stagona’s voice seizes the sparkly object’s momentum. Looking over to see… it was way too close. I can see what was gonna hit me, and it’s a long ballistic rifle veiled with an aura that stands out from the orange-ish glow of the room. There’s a horn atop this pony’s head that’s glowing that same color, and a pair of brass-colored eyes leering down at me from behind a set of reddish-orange bangs.

“Are you hurt, An-Skolarinn?” The unicorn— Wildcat— asks over me.

I roll over on my stomach slowly, painfully, until I can look back the way I came. Stagona’s already up, her mane a little messier than usual. “I am. How is he?” She gently makes her way to me, kneeling down to put a hoof on me. I flinch at its presence.

There’s a snort; one sounding like disapproval. “Do you really want to put your hooves on this one? You do realize he tried to get away and ruffed you up, doing it, right?”

I feel the zebra’s hoof on my head, and I start shaking. My eyes slowly shift up to hers. “He is not contagious–”

“He tried to get away, and that thing is still skulking around in his head! You do know what that could've meant right? If I wasn't here to see it didn't get out?"

"We are taking care of it, Wildcat, but he is not dangerous."

"With all due respect, An-Skolari–”

“Please, just Stagona.”

Wildcat lets out a frustrated sigh. “You’re being too open with him. That could’ve killed you just a moment ago and compromised every soul in this mountain.”

“But he did not.” Stagona says. “He is not like those before him. I did not see it in his eyes– not then, and not a moment ago. He could have done something, but he did not. If I saw anything, it was both confusion and lingering fear.” She looks back down at me. The way she strokes my mane makes me feel strange. Maybe it’s the fear; maybe it’s dread; maybe it’s old memories making me associate these mares with two sides of a bad lived experience. I shudder at the thoughts vaguely coming to me like shadows in the dark. “Can you get up, Ward?”

I try, but freeze when I hear something heavy and metallic rack behind me. “Lower your weapon, Wildcat.” Stagona orders as she takes my shoulder. “Please help me, help him, to the bed.”

My ears pick up a subtle, windy snort, before I feel my left side get held and pulled level with my right. I can use my hindlegs just fine, but they drag a little with each step. I’m eased back onto the bed, and left on the bedside.

“Thank you, Wildcat,” Stagona says. “You may resume your sentry— actually, may you please bring some gauze for his nose? It does not look broken, but there is blood.” That comment has me checking, and I find a glint of fresh crimson lining the edge of my hoof.

The unicorn—clad in gear that I can’t say is like anything I remember, stops to acknowledge the Zebra. “With all due respect, I believe I’d be more useful if I stayed until the team arrives.” She shakes her head. “We can’t be too careful, A– Stagona.”

“Trust in my word, Wildcat, that this will not happen again,” Stagona tells her. “Please do this for me. I am in need of this time, as this is a private matter. Ward needs to know where he has been.”

I can see Wildcat’s unconvinced eyes looking at me through my peripheral vision. Stagona’s words echo in my head, still. Where have I been, exactly? I hold my stomach with one forehoof, and the slightest touch makes me wince, and the pangs bring me back to that small beatdown…

“Fine.” Wildcat says, “I’ll be back, hopefully by the time they get here. If I come back and things happen again like they just did, I’ll use the other end of my rifle when I walk in. You hear me, you Cloudskip?” I don’t acknowledge those words no matter how hard they scrape across me and only sniffle to stop the blood from flowing out both my nostrils.

She’s gone, and it’s just the two of us… again.

The silence is heavy, and the distance between the two of us— despite being a few steps away— somehow feels farther. The room feels larger, or I’m just that much smaller. I look at my hooves’ frogs and they’re still the same. My chest, naked; the rest of me, covered in blankets; my head, drawing blanks. It feels like there’s a big hole in my thoughts, still, or… there are so many holes they’ve become one. I still don’t know which idea makes me feel… I don’t think it’s right to feel good about any of those ideas. I’m just lost in my own head— stuck on an island, or… something. I want to feel that frustration of being stuck— that something to tell me that there’s a way out, but all I feel is resignation; a defeat that makes me want to sit down and realize there is nothing I can do because there really is nothing I can do. I want to squeeze my head as hard as I can to push the edges of that hole together hoping that something makes sense. “What’s happened to me?”

“There is no straight answer, Ward.” Stagona tells me. Her words, they’re not soft like they were. They sounded heavy. “I am sorry— I truly am, but what you have and what we have found has caused quite a stir.”

“What do ya mean ‘a stir’?” I ask.

There’s silence. “Do you remember your own memories? As in, do you remember your journey through the mind?”

I think really hard about it, this time. I can feel it— even see it— flash across my vision like those ancient movie reels or instructional weather videos. The stone comes to mind, first, and then the glowbulb illuminating it. It grew dark, and I was in my bunker; a hallway full of doors. Some of the details are blurred or missing entirely, and I don’t know if that’s me not remembering the mundane, or refusing to remember the cold and the demanding voice…

“If you don’t remember, that’s—”

“No.” I cut her words off. “No, I remember; and I remember most of it.” The Outpost– two of them in the same place, in the same spot; flickering in and out like corrupt film footage, or a ghostly imprint of a photo atop a similar photo. The chasm, how deep it went and how it swallowed up the sky and the space around me… “Then came that dark veil.”

“Excuse me?”

“I got past it.” I tell her, “It wouldn’t let me go through…”

“I… I see.”

My ears perk to the way she said those words. “What?”

She fixes her headpiece. “I was there when we were looking into your memories. I was at your bedside while I asked questions that prompted your search. Along our session, we found that memory block— and we only learned of it from how it functioned. To put it simply, it looped; kept you in one place. Yet, somehow, someway, something happened…” I blink, trying to think about that ‘something’, and my thoughts go to the memory of my talisman; the very thing that dispelled that dark veil.

“I found a way through that block.” I say idly, the memory still at the forefront of my mind.

“Yes.” She says. “But before that happened I realized you may not have been talking to just me. See, while we were there, you began to acknowledge things I never prompted. What that was, I could not see but you could hear. And after that… you stopped responding; you would not acknowledge my words, yet you still relayed incomplete descriptors.”

I began to shake my head, slowly. “This doesn’t happen?”

“It never does, nor should it. It was when we realized we may have made a grave mistake in trying to see past this. Shortly thereafter, I tried to bring you back, but couldn’t. You were trapped within your own mind, and then you started to seize. I knew what we were up against when I saw the gleaning stone, and the color it took on…” She looks me dead in the eye. I don’t look away. “It was a memory of a fiend. It looked at me through the stone, thanked me in your voice, and began to escape through the stone. Its dark crystals bent light and began to break from your memories, through the stone, into the now. Whatever pain you were in, it threw you off the bed and your convulsions grew worse the closer it got to transcending thought.”

She can’t be serious, can she? Am I really wanting to believe any of that?

“I understand this is hard to take in, but you must. Your memory— your mind— somehow walled off what is possibly one of the most vile beings to have been born of The Curse that plagues these lands. Do you not understand? Your mind has been compromised the moment you met and remembered a Tulpa.”

A Tulpa?

“Never heard of it.” It’s definitely not anything I remember from talks and lessons about The Curse. I’m not even sure if it’s been called any other name besides that. I wait for an answer, but I notice her ears drop and a sadness come over her eyes.

She puts a hoof to one of them, rubbing it in as she takes a deep breath and says something that’s not common tongue in her exhale. “I would tell you all you need to know about these amalgams, but sadly, I do not think it will matter.”

A stone makes itself known in my gut, and it grows heavier. “I don't… I don’t understand.”

“I will tell you this, as it may help you now at this moment,” she says. “This thing— currently a memory— resides within the answers we have both been looking for within your mind. Unfortunately, this also means— for your sake and those of this mountain— that drastic measures must be taken to ensure the survival of both.”

“I still don’t–”

“We know some things about a Tulpa, but what we know is that those who have come into close contact with these entities meet a painful nonexistence. It will consume you from the inside out, and if we do not act now it will happen to you. We simply cannot afford that.”

That’s a lot to take in— enough to give me a headache. “So there’s something skulking around in my head? How does— how do we get rid of it? How did this happen?”

“You met it.” She tells me. “That, unfortunately, does not answer some of the questions we still both have. We cannot mind-dive again, either.”

“Why?”

“I speculate that your mental block was not due to injury, but possibly a defense against it having taken residence within your memories. This sadly does not answer how this happened in the first place… and we will not know, it seems.”

“What do ya mean?”

“It is quite possible that our meddling has loosened the lock— so to speak— and it is only a matter of time before what happens to the others happens to you. It is only speculation, but I will not wait to find out, and neither will you if you value yourself.”

I think about this whole thing, again. I remember that unbearable itch the closer and harder I thought to try and fill in the gaps in my head. Now I can only think of those itches as claws against a defensive fortification; a beast in a cage. My skin crawls to remember those words, and how they howled hauntingly into my ears…

“...Set us free.”

“What happens now?”

“We cut it out— so to speak.” She tells me. “The order had already been put in, and they should be arriving soon with the recollector and black opals. To ensure that it cannot come back, we have found that in this state it still adheres to the rules of memory. Every memory you have experienced with the Tulpa must be removed.”

I analyze her words, then lower my head when I realize, “So you’re taking my memories.”

“Yes.”

I look at her, not wanting to think about what will happen to me after everything is gone. What I could lose…“All of them?”

“Only the ones with the Tulpa.” She reassures me. “This means we will have to comb through your memories and take every single instance of you with the Tulpa out, as if separating wheat and barley from a pile. It may take a while, but rest assured, when this is done you need not worry about any intrusive, alien thought.”

There’s a hint of disappointment in her delivery. It must be the fact that we’ll never have our answers. I guess there’s no point in dwelling on any of it, anymore, is there?

The door opens. In come a small group of Zebra— three of them, with a trolley full of equipment. I recognize the largest item— a skeletonized tiara— as the recollector, and a large case-like box. Stagona greets the others in that strange language and the three all look at me. They exchange a couple more words or verbal messages before Stagona grabs a bluish stone that glows brightly like a flashlight.

“What’ll happen to me? After all of this?” I ask.

Stagona takes a minute to look at the recollector— making sure of something, maybe working order? She sets it down gently, picks up a black opal, and gives it to me. “That all depends on what you tell yourself.”