The Iron Horse: Murderous Machinations

Dupon and Turing stepped out the back door of the hotel and out onto the courtyard. The area was filled with several tables and chairs and looked out onto the back half of Spur Island. In the darkness of the night, the sloping hill was shrouded in darkness. The lights from the hotel windows cast their shadows long across the courtyard and into the grass as Dupon pulled out a chair for Turing Test.

“Thank you,” Turing said, taking the offered seat.

“A lady ought to be treated as such, even if the lady happens to be electric,” Dupon said, taking his own seat. “And I would not be worth my saltlick as a gentlecolt if I acted otherwise.”

Turing looked out across the darkened landscape, her eyes adjusting and taking in the sight of the rocky shores and the calm ocean stretching out to the horizon. The shimmering light of the silvery moon glittered upon those waters, and the sight very nearly made her forget the very tense situation in which they were both mired.

Granted, being a robot with adaptive eyes, she could have seen it all with perfect clarity, though she imagined most organic ponies would find the scene less stirring in varying shades of night vision green.

She turned her attention back to Dupon and saw he was packing tobacco into a small pipe.

“Ah… my apologies Minister,” he said, his calm demeanor momentarily lost as he bowed apologetically. “I should have asked, but do you mind if I smoke?”

Turing shook her head. “As I have no lungs, I am immune to the deleterious effects of secondhoof smoke. However, you should be aware of the considerable health risks inherent in smoking, Inspector Dupon.”

“Oh, rest assured, I am quite aware,” he chuckled, taking out a match and lighting the pipe. He took a few puffs, drawing in the smoke before letting it out with a sigh. “I’ve actually taken great pains to rid myself of the habit, but I must admit that it provides a bit of relief and focus in times of stress. And tonight certainly counts.”

He took a few more puffs.

“I suppose that may be difficult for you to understand, Minister,” he said. “Organic creatures and our bad habits, I mean. Consuming poisons and unhealthful foods… we must seem quite silly to you, I imagine, with all our impulses and carnal vices.”

“Oh, no,” Turing said, shaking her head.

Dupon raised an eyebrow, smirking at her.

“Ah. I was attempting politeness through the use of a ‘white lie’.” She then gave a small nod. “In truth… yes. Organics are often ‘silly’ as you say. I find them puzzling and sometimes difficult to interact with due to their contradictory and illogical habits. But perhaps not to the degree you might imagine.”

“Oh?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Turing rested her hooves on the table between them. “I do have emotions, after all. Many ponies are surprised by this, but it is true. I am capable of experiencing feelings like any other sapient being, and though I try to base my actions on logic, I am not immune to making decisions based on my emotions.”

He held out a hoof, inviting her to continue.

“Though I am generally incapable of physical sensation, and therefore not subject to ‘carnal vices,’ as you put it, I have experienced them before.”

Dupon’s eyes widened. “You don’t say!”

“I do indeed say,” she replied.

“Well, this is a story I simply must hear,” he said jovially.

“The circumstances were very abnormal. Once was when I was temporarily granted the ability to taste by the being known as Discord and consumed a slice of pie. It was a peculiar but extremely pleasant sensation.

“The other was when I experienced a simulation - a ‘dream,’ if you prefer - in which I experienced what it was like to be a fully organic being and to experience all the sensations that came with it. Now that I have, the actions of organics no longer seem so mysterious to me. Were I to live each day with such an overwhelming amount of external stimuli, I am not certain I would be able to deny my ‘vices’ any better than you.

“In short… please feel free to enjoy your pipe, Inspector,” she said, holding out her hoof.

Dupon laughed. “Oh my… you truly are a delight, Minister!” he exclaimed.

“Your compliment is accepted, Inspector. Thank you.” She paused for a moment and then added: “Turing.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“I have not shared that story with many others,” she said. “But I feel that I can trust you, Inspector. If it is not improper, I would like you to please call me ‘Turing’ rather than ‘Minister.’ All my friends do.”

He smiled warmly. “Very well, Turing,” he replied softly. “And I would say that you could call me ‘Auguste,’ but no one outside of my mother calls me that. ‘Dupon’ without the moniker ‘Inspector’ will be fine, if you prefer.”

Her eyes curved upward, indicating a smile, and she put out her hoof, and he shook it.

“You know,” Dupon said, “I think I first understood this, ah, less robotic side of you when we first examined Beacon Bomber’s body and you reacted so strongly to seeing him like that. I expected that you would see the need to catch the killer, of course. But your sadness, your outrage, and your desire for justice were quite unexpected.”

“Is that so? Strange,” she said. “Violence is an abhorrent act, and a pony who would take the life of another must be truly evil.”

At that, Turing noted, Dupon raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“Your reaction suggests that you believe otherwise,” she said. “Since you are a detective, I logically inferred that you desire to see such dangerous perpetrators caught and punished. Is that not correct?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that it’s ‘incorrect.’ There is a satisfaction in seeing justice done, certainly. But your assertion that a murderer must be ‘truly evil’ is a bit naive, if you’ll forgive my saying so. Even murderers have their reasons.”

“Please clarify: what reason could a pony possibly have for killing another?”

“Well, let me answer your question with another question, Mini— er, Turing,” Dupon said, catching himself. “You clearly detest violence, as do I. But let me ask you an indelicate question: are you saying that you would never kill another pony?”

“Correct,” she said instantly.

“Under any circumstances?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“None,” she said, just as instantly.

“And what if you were offered something you desired more than anything else?” he asked. “What if, say, somepony offered you the chance to live as an organic pony once more… this time permanently? And, to add a bit more to it, what if the pony you were told to kill was truly despicable, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever?”

Turing’s ears twitched. “No,” she said, though there was the briefest pause before her reply this time. “It is true that I would do almost anything to be able to experience that life again, but it would be pointless to gain life at the cost of taking another’s. Now that I have experienced what it is to be alive, however briefly, I could never knowingly deprive it from someone else.”

He smiled. “A very moral response,” he said, nodding. “Quite as I expected. But what if it were necessary to save the life of another?”

Turing tilted her head slightly. “Please clarify,” she said.

Dupon took a long draw from his pipe. “Your fianceé,” he began. “Maud. What if she was in grave peril?”

Turing drew herself up. “I believe I can anticipate your line of inquiry,” she said. “But may I counter with a question of my own?”

He raised an eyebrow and then nodded.

“Have you ever been in love? Are you perhaps married?”

“Ah, well, now you’re the one asking the tougher questions,” Dupon chuckled. “But all right, fair is fair, after all. And to answer your question, yes, I have been in love. Quite deeply in love, in fact. And indeed I was married. Previously.”

Turing tilted her head.

“We remain on good terms now, but, we… well, we simply drifted apart.”

She bowed her head, looking away. “I apologize. I did not mean to be intrusive. I merely—”

“It’s quite all right,” he assured her. “The truth is that the fault was mine. I loved her for her creativity, her kindness, and her willingness to listen to me go on and on. But my obsessive need to be right, to pursue things ad nauseam, and my pedantry eventually drove a wedge between us. I am well aware that the very qualities that make me a good investigator can often make me intolerable to everypony around me. It is difficult to find someone willing to accept me for my flaws, and for me to accept my flaws and move past them. It’s a shame I had to learn the hard way to put my love above my pride.”

Turing nodded slowly. “I understand,” she said softly.

The pair of them were quiet for a moment as they sat there, taking in the night sky and listening to the waves as they continued their rhythmic crashing.

“Maud Pie,” Turing said abruptly, “is the most wonderful pony I have ever known. Until I met her, and until we began our relationship, I had never met a pony who understood me as she does. She is not merely ‘important.’ She is… precious to me. I consider myself very fortunate to have met her, as very few ponies would even consider me a suitable romantic partner. I value our time together greatly because…”

She hesitated a moment. Dupon held his tongue and waited for her to finish.

“...because I am acutely aware that our time together is finite. As a machine, I will endure and exist as long as I can be repaired. Maud Pie will not. And when I am alone, I am uncertain that I will ever find another who understands me as she does. For that reason, I wish to hasten our marriage, but Maud Pie insists that we wait for an optimal time. I understand why she feels that way, but she does not perceive time in the same manner as I. However, I worry that insisting we expedite the wedding will only alienate her, causing her to resent me for forcing her, and so I have deferred to her on this matter.”

Dupon smiled. “I see,” he said.

“Ah. Apologies, Dupon. I did not wish to burden you with my personal problems.”

“Once more, it’s quite all right.” He drew in a long breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke which drifted into the salty sea wind and dissipated. “For the record, I am certainly no expert on matters of the heart, but I would encourage you to express these feelings to her. Keeping this to yourself may engender mistrust between you. And based on what I’ve seen, Maud Pie will understand if you speak to her earnestly.”

Turing nodded. “Understood. Thank you for your input, Dupon. I will consider your advice. And, to at last answer your anticipated question…”

Dupon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“...it is highly improbable that I would ever find myself in a situation where Maud Pie was threatened and the only method of preserving her life required such an extreme measure as the taking of another’s. I cannot easily make a conjecture on what I would do in such a situation. I can only say that I would do everything within my capability to preserve her from danger. Beyond that, I cannot speculate. And I would prefer not to speculate further, if that is acceptable.”

Dupon let out a contented sigh and sat back in his chair. “Of course. Forgive me, Turing Test, I didn't mean to distress you with such a question.”

Turing shook her head. “While such a thought is distressing, I understand that you are attempting to make a point. However, I am uncertain what point you intend to make.”

“Then allow me to explain. You see, in my work, I have encountered a number of murderers. Far more than most, I can confidently say. And they tend to fall into one of three types:

“The first are what we might call ‘stone cold killers.’ Ponies with no sympathy or feelings for their victims or anypony else for that matter, and who may even delight in causing suffering…”

Turing Test found her thoughts momentarily shifting to a particular pony. A certain blue-eyed nun with a deceptively calm smile. If Turing had possessed a spine, a chill would surely have been running down it.

“...Then there are those who are less malicious and more impulsive,” Dupon continued. “Ponies who act without care or thought for those they might endanger. And such reckless individuals often lack the moral fiber necessary to admit their mistakes, and often sloppily try to conceal what they’ve done.

“But the last type of killer is, oddly enough, one who is in almost all other ways, a ‘good’ person. A kind neighbor, a caring family member, a hard-working employee, that sort of thing. And yet, many of them find themselves in a situation where, for whatever reason, they chose to end another’s life. Perhaps because that pony did something cruel but otherwise escaped justice. Perhaps out of sheer jealousy. Or perhaps to protect a loved one. Though I detest violence as much as you do, I must admit that I often find myself filled with sympathy, and even pity for the killers I’ve brought to justice.”

Turing sat back in her chair as well. “You are saying that even a murderer may have their rationalizations, correct?”

He ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. “In part,” he replied finally. “Rather, I’d like you to understand that, to the murderer’s mind at least, the reason for the murder might seem justifiable under the right circumstances.”

“And what circumstances would have justified the killing of Beacon Bomber?”

“That,” Dupon said, rising from his seat as he tapped out the last of his pipe’s ash, “is precisely what we should be trying to discover. So, if I may offer another nugget of advice?”

“Please proceed,” Turing said. “I will accept nuggets, bars, ingots, or any other denomination you prefer.”

Dupon chuckled. “Well then, please remember that we’re looking for a murderer, Turing Test,” he said. “Not a monster. If you go looking for pure evil, in my experience, you may miss the more mundane motives.”

“I see. Thank you, Dupon. Your alliterative advice is accepted,” Turing said, getting up to follow him. “However…”

Dupon raised an eyebrow. “However…?”

Turing narrowed her eyes. “I am incapable of forgetting anything, and so I will always remember the image of Beacon Bomber lying dead on that table. Furthermore, the killer is allowing an innocent pony - Gadget, my dear friend - to be blamed for their act of violence. And I have seen how gravely that death has affected others, like Sea Dweller. Therefore, I will accept and consider your advice going forward, but when the killer’s identity is discovered…”

Dupon slowed, and Turing came right up to him.

“...whatever I may feel for them, it will not be pity.”

To be continued…