The Blank Pony

The weather had begun to clear as night had fallen once more. The air was still thick with moisture, but had grown marginally warmer. The rain had stopped, leaving the ground muddy in places and the plants off-kilter and uneven from the storm that had just passed.

Synchronia’s servos released rythmic mechanical whining clicks as she entered the Brighthouse. Her eyes clicked in their sockets, rotating as she scanned the area. The other ponies followed her, Sunny most closely.

“There appears to be a surplus of mess in this building,” said Synchronia. “I can fix that.”

The door, which had been broken, sprung up from the ground, surrounded by translucent orange shims and frames. They pushed it back together, and with a hiss the summoned machine parts fully repaired it. It did so with such force that it nearly hit Hitch in the rump, and he squeaked, nearly dropping Sparky as he preserved his rear.

Other floating, translucent machine analogues immediately began neatening the area. Cleaning up debris and disassembling the pile of various machines that Sunny had made previously. It had proven no longer necessary. Overhead, the lights flickered and came back on.

“That’s...useful,” said Zipp, stepping back from a translucent disk that scooted past her, rapidly vacuuming the floor.

“I do like cleanliness,” noted Synchronia, her eyes reversing in her head to look over her robotic shoulders directly toward Zipp. “Sterility, even.”

Her eyes turned back to their normal position as she rotated. She faced them, smiling.

“Now then, my little ponies. We should attend to business.”

“Um...” Izzy raised a hoof. “Maybe we should rest first? It’s been kind of a long day. And I need to sleep. And also suppress some trauma.”

“That is true. I, however, do not sleep.”

“Why?”

Synchronia leaned in closer, her robotic neck articulating unnaturally. “Because I do not appreciate my thoughts being seen by false Princesses. Also I do not share the weaknesses inherent to organic flesh that you and your adorable carbon-based friends do. But, considering your comfort, I will be brief.”

She stepped back. “As stated, my primary mission in existence it so serve the Will of Twilight. I therefore owe you a debt of gratitude for assisting me in regaining consciousness. I will therefore explain my situation.”

“The monster,” said Sunny, stepping forward.

“Not just a monster,” said Pipp. “I saw it without the...I don’t even know. But I think there’s a ghost inside.”

“Oh. Yes. That thing,” said Synchronia. She shrugged. “It is currently irrelevant and non-harmful. To me, at least. Now that I am once again functional. Those two will most likely go home. Of far greater concern is the other.”

“Other?” asked Hitch, turning to Sunny. Sunny, though, already knew.

“Misty mentioned that there was another pony. Who crash-landed in Zephyr Heights.”

“The one working for Opaline?”

“Possibly,” said Synchronia. “To simplify it for your primitive minds, the construct pursuing me is incidental. It must have noticed me and tracked my signal, attempting to steal me. However, the ship I was imprisoned in was not mine. I had been captured.”

“Captured?”

Synchronia nodded. “Captured and enslaved. They had taken my body and linked me to a system of machines, using my power to guide the vanguard of their war-fleet. They destroyed my original body and trapped me. I was so drained of power that I was not able to recover without your help.” She looked into the distance. In fact, exactly toward Opaline’s tower. “I do not know the name of the pony who hurt me. I never knew her. She was, perhaps, a scientist. She is, doubtlessly, quite evil.” She turned back to Sunny, still smiling. The smile was built into her skeletal head and did not ever change. “Hence why she appears to be working with the primary villain of your planet.”

Sunny considered this for a moment. “That means Misty’s in danger.”

“Misty is always in danger,” retorted Hitch. “Gah, we told her! This secret double-agent stuff is too scary! First Opaline, now some evil space-wizard!”

“I saw her before,” said Zipp, frowning. “With Misty. They came in here and fought the...thing. She, that other pony...she didn’t seem evil then.”

“Yes. Because I was able to access her techno-magic matrix and corrupt it. Had I not, she would likely have stolen me to rebuild her ship.” Her head tilted. “And most likely brought the rest of you to Opaline. So that she could suck the magic out of each and every one of your flanks.”

Hitch shivered. “But I...I don’t want to be sucked!” Zipp promptly elbowed him.

“I can promise some level of defense,” added Synchronia. “For now. But decapitation is no way to get ahead in life. As such, my capacity is limited.” A robotic hoof twisted upward as she looked at it, turning it over in the air. “This body is more than adequate, though. I do appreciate the rustic charm of magnetic motors. I feel so pretty.” She snapped her head back to them. Sparky, who was hiding behind Hitch, cried out softly from the shock. “You can all go to bed now. I will patrol the area. If you hear my voice while you’re sleeping, do try to wake up. If you instead hear the voice of the Corpse-Goddess, do try to avoid listening.”

“Or what?” asked Zipp, hesitantly.

Synchronia shrugged, her joints clicking as she walked to the kitchen. “I have no idea considering your neural architecture." She looked at the table. "Oh, muffins. I do wish I could eat, they look tasty.”

In the dream, ash fell from the skies. Silent dust, punctuated by the distant thunder of far larger objects impacting the surface. She stood, defiant, staring forward. She felt no doubt. She felt nothing all save for the certitude of the truth she had come to understand.

The alicorn approached. She strode across the battlefield with a slow grace, a power that required no faith. Her dominion transcended religion, denying her falsehood through sheer, empirical might.

Her divine body gleamed, wrapped in golden machinery forged from metals torn from the very depths of stars, actuated by sacred machinery and unholy magics long-forgotten. She bore no helm, her flesh long since having transcended the capacity for even the barest of injury. White skin. A fiery orange mane. Black eyes that stared at her quarry unblinking through burning slits.

And yet, the one who faced down the Goddess of All Suns felt no fear. She did not retreat. There was nowhere left to go.

The Allmother had fallen. Two remained of Four, the Third a mere husk preserved for millennium, her mind growing obtuse in the fading Pony-Gestalt.

The others came—and as she watched, the lone defender felt tears in her eyes.

They did not bear the markings and sigils of the Goddess of All Suns. They wore the black armor of Dusk, their bodies cloaked in translucent orange that mimicked the magic that had long-since left their frames.

Then She came. Her violet eyes stared with such disappointment, and the adversary collapsed to her knees.

Sunny awoke weeping.

She climbed the stairs, slowly. It was so late at night. The others were all sleeping. Even Hitch, who did not normally stay at the Brighthouse, had snuggled tightly with Sparky down on the couch. It was only Sunny that seemed to have a problem sleeping.

The night had cleared fully, and the upper deck of her home was filled with the nighttime light of the Unity Crystals. Sunny looked at the rainbow, and the crystals, and in its multicolored light saw the shadow of Synchronia standing on the far side.

She paid no attention to the crystals. Instead, she was looking up at the sky. At the stars.

“It is interesting,” she said. “I have been to so many places. But not this place. I know some of these stars. But many I do not. This is a new place.” She looked back to Sunny. “I had thought there would be no more new things for me. I am so happy to be awake again.”

“You’re from there?” said Sunny, herself leaning on the railing and looking up into space.

“My home is called Dusk. It is a planet.” She looked back to the sky. “I cannot see it from here. Not anymore. It may not even still exist.”

“But you said you knew Twilight Sparkle.”

Sychronia nodded. Her eyes were narrow and artificial, but seemed distant. “More than knew. I served Her. I loved Her. More dearly than anything in the whole of this universe or the other four known. We all do...or all did.”

“Even though you’re...you know...a robot?”

Synchronia looked down at the smaller pony, and her smile did seem genuine—even if it was utterly artificial.

“Interesting that you believe that is what I am.” She paused. “But. More than anything, it pleases me so much that you know Her name. I was afraid. That it would be so lonely. To be the last one that remembered Her, I mean.” She turned her head toward the rainbow column rising trough the Unity Crystals. “But this...does explain that. I suppose.”

Sunny looked at the crystals. “You know what those are?”

“Yes. I do.” Synchronia approached the Unity Crystals. “These are something very special. Her gift to your world.”

“I know,” said Sunny, also basking in the glow. “They got separated long ago, when the different types of pony all turned against each other...but my friends and I got them back together. And when we united together, we realized the true power of friendship.” She sighed.

“Why are you sighing, tiny organic?”

“Because it’s never that easy, is it? There was a message in the crystals. From Twilight Sparkle. She warned us that somepony would come and try to take the magic again.”

“A message?” Syncrhonia looked at the crystals. “Of course. Recording capacity. That explains the contagion.”

“Contagion?”

“Nothing relevant to you, of course. How about instead I show you a neat trick?”

She stepped forward.

“Be careful of the rainbow! Izzy say’s its spicy, but I think there’s something about radiation or something?”

“I am quite immune to whatever it may be,” chuckled Synchronia, stepping into the light. Her body sparked with dark energy, and the rainbow bent around her, leaving her in a dim and poorly lit void while it continued on its way.

She approached the crystals and then leaned forward. One of her eyes moved independently of the other and a thin metallic tendril slid out from beneath it. It split, parsing itself into three probes—and then she attached them to each of the Unity Crystals.

The crystals hummed—and then an image appeared. The same one as before. Of Twilight Sparkle.

“That’s her!”

Synchronia did not respond—until a slight, barely perceptible sniffle escaped her. A tear of black fluid ran down her face from the place where her tendril had emerged.

“Syncrhonia, are you—”

“So beautiful,” she said, quietly, as if to herself. “As I remember You so many times...but now You are gone. Now I am alone. The last of Your legions.”

Sunny paused, not knowing what to do—but stepped into the rainbow after her.

“Hey,” she said, putting her hoof against Syncrhonia’s metallic frame. “It’s going to be okay. I know we can’t get her back. And I know it hurts. And in a way...I think it might always hurt. When you remember her. But you always will remember her. And you can live your life. Because that’s what she would have wanted. For her friends to be happy. Even when she’s gone.”

Synchronia looked up the image of Twilight. “I remain as Her Will. I alone remember. I am the product of Her vision.” She nodded, and disconnected herself. “Thank you, Sunny. I realize that I am supposed to give the impression of absolute strength, but regaining conscious capacity has been harder than I expected.”

“A lot of us have lost ponies we love here,” said Sunny. “A surprising amount actually. The others might be able to talk to you too. If you ask them. And you can always talk to me. I know I’d love to hear stories about Twilight. I grew up idolizing her and the other Elements of Harmony.”

Synchronia’s head tilted. “I do not know what the Elements of Harmony are.”

Sunny stopped. “You...don’t? But you knew Twilight?”

“Twilight spoke very, very little about Her past. I tend to believe She deeply regretted something.”

An image flashed before Sunny’s mind. Of vast rockets burning their way into the skies of a long-dead shell of a planet.

Her head hurt. She put her hoof to it. Synchronia continued to watch—and continued to smile.

“Who was it you lost, Sunny?”

Sunny frowned, shaking her head and forgetting the foreign memory. “My father,” she said, her mind filled with far more pleasant memories. “He...got sick and...” She shook her head again. “Sorry.”

“Do not apologize. Your emotions are a weakness you cannot remove. Your father would be glad how you have become, I think. And glad he was granted the gift of mortality. As you all will be granted in time. All of you who escaped.”

“Um...thanks. A little creepy, but your heart’s in the right place.”

“I do not have a heart. In this body, at least. Although I think this body has a cooling pump. So that counts, I think. Regardless, I understood your sentiment.” She paused. “You should really rest. Your brain has taken far more damage than the others. You are better optimized to interact with my Tantaban implant, but it still puts a strain on most ponies not genetically matched to the Corpse-Princess.”

Sunny yawned. “Sorry. You’re not being boring, you’re just being right. I just keep having dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“I think I’m just worried about Misty. She’s our other friend, but she’s...ugh it’s so complicated.”

“It can be complicated in the morning.”

“Again, right,” sighed Sunny, proceeding down the Brighthouse stairs. Synchronia followed, her little rubber feet clicking as her servos whined in a calmingly repetitive fashion.

They stopped at Sunny’s room, lit by the glow of her lantern, and Sunny went in. Synchronia nodded, moving to leave, but her eyes stopped at something.

“What is that?” she asked.

Sunny blinked. She had almost gotten into bed. “What?”

Synchronia took several steps forward. She extended a hoof, the end of which retracted as a claw-like effector emerged. She plucked something off the wall. Sunny saw the golden reflection in the light of her lantern.

“My dad’s amulet,” she said. “He wore it everywhere. Every memory of him I have, he was wearing it.” She smiled. “It’s even in the shape of Twilight’s star.”

“It is,” said Synchronia. “And Spectral imaging indicates this is Duskite. I have only ever known it to occur on Dusk. It is synthetic in origin.” She stared at the amulet. Then she gently put it back. “Thank you for sharing the memory. And reminding me of home.” Her tone had shifted. It almost sounded disingenuous. “I believe I may have had one just like it when I was still alive.”

“When you were—”

“Goodnight, organic. Do try to avoid the nightmares.”

Sunny was about to speak—but felt sleep suddenly, even violently overcome her as she flopped into bed. The last thing she heard was the sound of servos quickly moving out of her room.