Sub Sole Nihil Novum Est

The alien is a mystery to me, to us all. Despite being responsible for Caramel's death, it does not seem malicious, though it also had not shown itself to be benevolent. I've studied disease since I was a filly, and I know we would have all been infected, become like it, within two days or so after capturing it were it capable of spreading through the air. We are going on day three as of this writing. I'll admit that I am worried about this body-snatching thing; if I were to become a copy, a perfect copy of myself, would even I know it? Would Caramel, had Princess Luna not destroyed his brain? I suppose what has happened cannot be helped, even if we have been exposed. What it does now will decide its fate as Princess Celestia and Princess Luna pass their judgment upon it. - From the diary of Nurse Redheart

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Princess Celestia was rather confused by the alien. It didn't follow any of the rules of life that she was accustomed to; if anything, it seemed to directly oppose them whenever possible. No brain, no neural activity beyond the norm, and nothing to even suggest it was intelligent, yet there was that spark behind its eyes, that twinkle of light that screamed of sapience. There had to be something she could read from its mind; even the slightest bit of information would prove invaluable. After scanning its spinal cord and organs, she realized she was missing a piece of this puzzle, but she didn't know what it was. In annoyance and slight disappointment, she just scanned a hooffull of cells in its neck.

There, right there was that spark she had been looking for. Her mistake had been looking at the organs, not trying to read them like she would the brain. Still, this made no sense, not even a little. The small bunch of cells were part of a larger collective, and Celestia noticed thought-complexity increased proportionately as she widened her scanning area. At first, all she heard, or rather felt, was the desire to survive and adapt, as thought its only purpose was to accomplish those two directives until, like all life, it simply failed. It wasn't until she increased the size that she made her first real discovery: the alien had full control over every system in its body, down to the function of every individual tissue.

As Celestia focused on its entire body, she was assaulted by wave after wave of sensory feedback and mechanical thought. It didn't think in words or emotions, but rather in some odd sensation that crawled up and down her spine as she focused on it. Words, language, floated here and there, their meanings only a speculated by the alien mind. It knew food, book, page, yes, no and their names, but little else besides words commonly used in conversation, the sort without an observable meaning. It could speak, and it knew it could, but it chose not to for some reason.

What was most fascinating was not its intelligence, but rather how it seemed to go about using it. Most ponies think about their existence, their place in the universe, their individual identity. The alien possessed a sense of self, but did not seem to regard itself as an individual, or even care about anything beyond its immediate needs. It had no need for a role in life because it still followed the directives of adapt and survive, though much of what Celestia could read indicated it was curious and thirsted for information. Its thought process, what little was understandable, was strangely mathematical, ordered like a machine set about solving a puzzle.

That mechanical mind was one of the alien's stranger aspects. It lacked any concept of emotion, ambition, desire, morality, and empathy, or at least had not learned of such things. It wasn't a threat due to aggression, but because of its inability to understand how its actions applied to others. It could eat somepony's dog and be surprised she was mad at it, and then kill that pony for attacking it.

Celestia broke the spell for a moment, looking into the alien's eyes. They were the same color as Caramel's, but the rectangular pupils did not belong on a pony. They never left her, never blinked, never even used its nictitating membrane. It did not trust her; the very concept may have been as foreign as the alien was to Equestria.

“Learned anything, sister?” Luna asked, looking slightly worried, but also curious. Nothing about this thing was simple, and the threat it posed to the outside world was unknown. Was it contagious? Would it lash out even if it was perfectly safe and well fed? Was it the vanguard of an invasion?

“I learned that it knows more about us than we know of it.” Celestia looked at the alien posing as Caramel, and made a face like she was chewing something unpleasant, but didn't want to spit it out. The worried looks from her sister and her apprentice forced her to amend that statement. “Which, thankfully, means very little. It knows more of our language than it lets on, but is largely ignorant of everything else.”

“What about me?” Nurse Redheart asked as she entered the observation room. Her curiosity was natural; she had spent time with Caramel before he lost control, and the alien had been looking out for her well-being earlier.

“It knows Caramel was hoping for another date, at least. The bits of brain still floating around its skull might be influencing its opinion of you, but that's just a guess based on its previous behavior.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

As it absorbed information, time, or at least the crude concept of time it was beginning to develop, seemed to slow. It felt restless, though it had no need for sleep; it felt anxious, thought it had more than enough nutrients stored to persist for weeks without having to cannibalize on its specialized biomass. It searched its large library of words, both defined and not, and attempted to locate a suitable term for this odd sensation. It founded one that would possibly suffice, though its meaning was unknown.

Twilight, a few hours earlier, while it had been in what must have appeared to be a state of dormancy, had uttered the word bored in a tone that hinted at unpleasantness. Bored sounded simple, much like the situation it found itself in. It resisted the whim to speak, though it gathered Celestia knew it could understand about ten percent of what they said, and that percentage was rapidly growing. It wished for something to occupy itself; there was no need for a sapient mind if there was nothing to do with it, nothing to learn. Perhaps it could occupy itself with learning the natives' written language?

It lied on the metal floor of its chamber, casually looking at the four natives gathered outside the mirror. There wasn't much to do other than conserve energy; modifications could wait until it had a while alone.

“It looks almost bored, sister.” Luna said that word, the word it used to describe its current state. It locked eyes with her, ears swiveling to focus on her voice. It needed a distraction, and she seemed to be as good as it had access to. “I wonder what it normally does for entertainment? I can't imagine it spends every day landing on unsuspecting worlds.”

“It probably doesn't, Luna.” Twilight looked at it curiously, but quickly returned her attention away form it. “Its species generates from spores; we don't even know if it's natural or artificial.”

“It is most likely artificial; hosts have the tendency to melt when under a shower of them, as we saw.” Luna looked to her sister, and nodded towards the door. The time for judgment was approaching, and the alien's fate would be decided then. Ponyville, under the current shielding spell, would not survive long, not with its roads and air traffic cut off as they were. “This leaves many things uncertain.”

“Perhaps Canterlot is the best place for it at the moment.” Celestia nodded her head in time with her wording, mulling over how things would develop there. The university had a larger facility and much more advance equipment. The most brilliant minds in Equestria studied and worked there, doctors and scientists who devoted their lives to solving the mysteries of the universe. “Yes, that sounds about right. I trust Luna and I can trust the two of you to keep an eye on our guest, yes?”

“Oh yes, of course,” Twilight replied looking bright-eyed and eager, despite needing sleep. She waved as the two alicorns left for the capital, even as the door closed behind them. Her expression slowly fell until she looked worried. “We have no idea how to take care of this thing overnight.”

“Don't you take care of Spike?” Redheart asked, knowing she had a small dragon living with her. If Twilight was capable of taking care of something so different from a pony, surely she should have some insight into the alien's unique needs. Maybe the nurse was grasping at straws.

“Oh! Thanks for reminding me! I'll be back in the morning!” Twilight didn't even give an explanation as she bolted form the room, and presumably the hospital. Nurse Redheart only had time to raise her hoof and begin to squeak a plea.

“Oh, please don't leave me alone with it!”