“Introduction”
“Part 4, Imposition”
Author: It_that_watches
The thunder of paradoxically precise yet rushed footsteps rampaged up the back staircase and towards the unidentified cries coming from Twilight’s playroom. It was the room where her sister had slept for the last year and a half, writhing in uneasy dream- a chemical haze she’d had been trapped in to spare her the pain of post-natal genetic engineering. She was ready to wake up any day now, but under controlled circumstances, in a cleanroom.
The door to the darkened room shuddered on its hinges as the it slammed open, the shadows retreating into the corners like a frightened blanket. Weeping on her bed of pillows lay Twilight’s “little sister” Celestia, mane stained with saline and blood face dripping with mucus and tears.
Upon seeing the two enter the room she elicited a terrified noise and covered her head with her wings and blanket alike, sobbing and muttering all the while.
<< TWO YEARS PRIOR <<<
A group of scientists stood over a sleeping Little-Pony prototype, a tag tied around it’s wrist reading “H-S4BL#44” in bold recently stamped characters. Her body was gaunt, but not so much as the faces of the personnel surrounding her. Slowly, they began to hear it, the sound they were dreading, but knew to be inevitable. They had called him after all, there was an issue that needed to be resolved.
(tink)
(tink)
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(tink)
It was the sound of someone descending the metal stairs from the control room above. It was Doctor Winston, his presence was expected. But why was this thing even here? The last prototypes left the Series-4 line five years ago- but it had become apparent that their lives held value to him.
(tink)
(tink)
(tink)
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They observed his wordless approach with silent apprehension. The disappointment on his face, unmistakable.
“That was one hell of an update, what do you mean, she’s displaying symptoms? Symptoms of what? Could you have been any less specific?”
There was a short pause before someone gathered the wherewithal to answer.
“Well, sir, there’s a problem with the nervous system of your… project… and the way it interacts with the digestive system- We don’t know why but this one can’t… Well… You know… Its whole GI tract is frozen. It only functions when it eats, and then only barely. I recommend you decommission it and try to find out what went wrong, and if its issues are going to affect any other… of your ponies.”
“I see… You’ve all gone above and beyond helping me find out what’s wrong with her. I’m sorry for bothering you all with things that should trouble me and me alone. Go tend to the pens, god knows if someone isn’t watching them they’ll find a way to end up dead. Fucking fluffies… No need to waste more of your time here. Honestly, I really don’t care what you do for the rest of the day, just try to look busy at the least. Dismissed.”
As soon as the other doctors had left, he got in close to the little pony’s face.
“I dun like it when the othar doctars talk ‘bout me.” She spoke softly. “I’m not broken. I dun have a broken gnome.”
Doctor Winston winced heavily, and a flash of heat and pain wracked his already unstable body.
“I was the worst possible candidate to be used as a baseline. Sweetie, I… Some of the building blocks used to make me are all broken. We used some of my blocks to help build you, and someone, and I swear I will find out who, used the broken blocks. We were supposed to throw them away, or paint them different colors, but because someone didn’t… you have the same sickness I do.”
“It’s too late to save me from a life of pain, but it’s not too late for you. I can fix you, but…”
He hesitated and averted his gaze. I was painful look into her perfect little eyes.
“Bud what, Daddy? I dun see any blocks. I’m too big for blocks! I wanna play computer like Twilight!”
Always so certain of everything. Always so domineering throughout the gen-4 project. All that arrogant momentum brought to a standstill by a sickly little alicorn, a prototype that was written off long ago.
“But I’ve never tried something like this before. It might hurt a lot. It might… It might kill you outright.” He sighed pensively, twiddling his thumbs in a desperate attempt to buy time for his own fevered mind, “But if I know anything about this disease you have, is that it won’t kill you. It’ll just bring you to the brink of death and hold your head over the edge. And I won’t let that happen to you. I swore that I’d never pass this curse on, and I sure as hell won’t be passing it on to you.”
She blinked innocuously before asking slew of questions.
“Wha’ does a curze mean Daddy? What’s a death? Am I really actually sick though? Where’s Twily? Does Wight still live here?”
The earlier flash of heat was suddenly replaced with one of bone searing cold. She was only five and some change years old, she shouldn’t be thinking about things like that. Lucky for him, this pony had a much different personality that Twilight. Where Twilight wouldn’t let a subject go until she had either gotten a satisfactory answer or caused an incident, her little sister was a little less thorough.
As he casually appropriated company resources to create a plasmid therapy solution for the inquisitive Little Pony, he answered the questions he felt would best placate her. Perhaps not with compete honesty.
“A curse is a very bad thing. Curses never go away when humans have them, but Little Ponies like you are different. The magic in your building blocks makes them easy to paint over, especially when you are still small. We need to lift this curse before you get too big!”
“I’m a big girl already Daaad! You sayed so a bunch already!”
“You are sick sweetheart, because of the curse. It’ll hurt you forever unless you take a nice long sleep. When you wake up, you’ll feel better than you ever have.”
“I get to sleep for a really long time?” Her cheeks turned all rosy and her eyes twinkled with happiness, “Like a storybook princess, like in the ones you read to me?”
“Yep! Just like that. You are a princess after all, aren’t you?”
(Joyous giggling)
“And as for Twilight, she’s up in the control room still. I wouldn’t want her down here exposed to all these… things…”
“Why do all the bright wiggly pom-pom things have ugly pig faces? What are they for?”
He smirked.
“Fluffies? They aren’t for anything. You know Blankie back at home?”
“Yeah! I love Blankie! I miss Blankie.”
“These things were made to be like Blankie, something to hold onto, maybe even love.”
She smiled.
“But they aren’t, Celestia.”
Her smile disappeared. He only used her full name when he had something serious to say, or she was in trouble.
“We failed at making them loveable. Your blanket has more personality and history than any one of these… ugly things. You and Twilight are too good for them, honestly I don’t even like you looking at them.”
She turned to face him, tapping his back from the dais she rested on with a less than gentle hoof.
He turned back to face her.
“Her names Blankie Daddy. Not blanket.”
They reciprocated smiles this time around.
“Right, sorry sweetheart.”
“What about Twiwight? Is this place still her house?”
Matthew locked up, briefly considering what #36 might be up to.
“Yeah, she still lives here. Kinda works here, actually.”
“Whadus she do? Is she like a big sister for all the ugly broked ponies? If you dunt cook for her what’s she eat? Do the mean doctars make her eat garbage like you say all the broked ponies eat garbage?”
“I’m not the only person in the world who cooks, sweetheart. And no, she… Well mostly she eats…”
He stared ahead, focusing on the wall behind the computer he was using. His face was still as stone as he remembered in visceral detail what he’d seen during a security breach a few months back.
“Meat.”
“I like eating meat too! I like the potatoes that you make with the meats more though.”
“Yeah, and sometimes I don’t even need to wash your snuzzle when you’re finished. Wight is… a very messy eater.”
“Can I see?
A shiver travelled up his spine.
“No.”
“Now hold still. This stuff was already prepared and bottled, I just needed to remove a tiny bit. Port please, Tia.”
She stood on the table, whipping her mane to the right and over her back to reveal a medical port built into her neck. Wordlessly, he snapped the still cold from storage phial of mutagen into it. His stomach churned as he watched it slowly drain.
“That magic potion should help you get better.”
“I love you Tia.”
She turned around and smiled, completely unaware of what had just been done to her.
>> TWO WEEKS LATER >>
Celestia sat on a veritable mountain of pillows in her darkened playroom, puffy stylized cartoon stars dancing across the ceiling in an endless swirl. Twilight and Matthew were sitting before her, their concerned faces somewhat lost in the murk.
“So today I get to do my princess sleep dad? I dun feel too good. It’s too hot.”
“I told you it was gonna get worse before it got better hon. You have a fever; it means the special medicine you took is starting to work.”
“I dun like it. It feels bad.”
“Twilight, you remember what we talked about?”
She flinched. Of course she did, the instructions were very simple.
Distract her as long as this takes. Make sure that when the lights go out, she isn’t alone, and isn’t afraid.
“Hey Tia! Look what I brought!”
She lifted up a blanket. Tia’s blanket. Blankie.
She smiled weakly and closed her eyes as Twilight gently swaddled her in a fuzzy wrap of moons an stars. She winced as some sort of sensor was attached to the top of her spine. Behind her, Matthew meticulously brought online an intimidating array of makeshift machinery and borrowed medical devices, all of them to be entrusted with the precarious task of rewriting life.
It was obvious to Matthew, more obscured to Twilight, and completely unknown to Celestia what was happening; the virus had started to take hold. When Tia had been given the mutagen two weeks earlier, she didn’t think twice about it. It was just medicine. She’d had medicine delivered via medical port hundreds of times; it was so routine she didn’t even mention it to her sister.
Matthew leaned down above partially to better see what he was doing, partially to comfort her. He wasn’t quite sure which was taking precedence. He connected the saline line to the uppermost port on her neck in the same fluid motion he used to kiss her on the cheek, the noise of medical connections being made and emotional connections being reinforced smushed into one.
“Angel…” he whispered to himself. “I’m sorry.”
He connected more biometric monitors to her body, electrodes to her head, and each time she grew worried Twilight was there to jump in and distract her. She asked questions, nuzzled her, and told her stories. Her weary smile was there the whole time, but somehow this behavior didn’t feel like helping. It felt like a betrayal. She continued on with her reassurances and distractions, unsure if the majority of it was directed at her sister or herself.
She had begun by telling Tia’s favorite story. She couldn’t tell when she’d started telling her own favorites. She smiled along regardless. Twilight’s stomach flipped as she noticed that another tube had been attached to her sisters’ neck, and blood was travelling up it.
Matthew confirmed the flow of blood into the analytics module. He confirmed that it had completed a cycle, and reversed the flow of the tube, returning the lifegiving liquid to its host. The machine beeped and gave a readout which he matched to the readout given to his pager.
Celestia began to turn her head to see what had made the noise, but Twilight moved closer to her. Her attention diverted by the faux-sneakily approaching “threat”, she forgot entirely about the machine.
“I see you Twilight!”
“Awww, shucks, I was gonna get you!”
They both giggled and bumped noses.
“I love you Twily.”
“I love you too, Tia.”
Matthew muted the device.
He entered Celestia’s biometrics into another machine, this one having sprung into life in response to the first. He looked at a pair of canisters slotted into it, confirming the chemical contents.
“Propofol. The milk of amnesia.”
He stifled a sigh and raised his head. He wouldn’t cry in front of her. Not now.
“She’ll understand why I did this. If she doesn’t… I pray this stuff still lives up to its nickname.”
He connected the automatic drip to the saline reservoir.
He could feel the electric motor vibrating as he pressed the ignition switch.
The expected results didn’t take long to manifest.
“Woah!”
“What’s wrong Tia? Did I pinch you?”
“No, no, Twily, I feel really… wrong… Like there’s hot water inside my neck… It’s… It’s…”
Matthew interjected.
“It’s normal, sweetheart. It’s a good warm right? Not too hot? Better than the fever right?”
Celestia smiled in the affirmative and nodded as best she could.
“Daddy?”
“Yes Princess?”
“When am I gonna feel all better?”
“When you wake up. Don’t you worry my little angel. I love you. I’ll always love you.”
“I-I lo… lo… I…”
She paused for a moment.
And that moment stretched longer and longer.
Her eyes dulled and her breathing slowed.
She never got to finish her thought, as reality stretched seamlessly into dream.
He pressed his forehead to hers, Twilight joining them in the last moment of fleeting consciousness she had. Maybe she felt them, perhaps she could still see them embracing her as she fell away into her “princess sleep”. Perhaps she was already out cold, and they were only comforting themselves.
They would never know.
Twilight wept silently into her into Celestia’s neck as Matthew pulled away from the embrace.
He stood and busied himself with the machines, ensuring that nothing was out of place, that nothing was wrong, that nothing could possibly go wrong. He’d never be able to forgive himself if something did.
He swore to himself that she would someday be able to finish that last reply.
That he would hear his tiny angel say, “I love you too.” again.
It was over for now, her growing pain suspended the tumorous agony that her father had so carelessly permitted her to inherit, and was now working so hard to erase.
The last remnants of himself, in her.
She deserved better.
>> PRESENT DAY >>
“TIA!? TIA SWEETIE!”
Celestia screamed explosively in retort.
The room was in utter chaos.
Life-support machines behind her swaying as they were tugged by EKG sensor wires and the remnants of the tubes pulled in haste from the ports on her neck. Drugged saline poured freely from the line above, and blood shot in spurts from Tia’s jammed open medical “out-port”. Machines chirped and blinked in a simulacrum of worry, monitors showing either frenzied vitals or no vitals at all.
While Twilight charged towards her sister as blood soaked through her blanket from the outside in, Matthew scanned the room as the overhead fluttered on for the first time in years. The machines were swaying but stable, the tubes were pulled loose, and the wires swung freely. Alerts beamed in red letters their silent agony, unknown that the life they were looking over had left their metal grasp.
Matthew saw none of it as he rushed into the room, throwing the blanket aside and grabbing the terrified pony by the neck. She thrashed and thrashed, trying with all her atrophied might to throw him off, but it was like wrestling a very bloody pool noodle. He twisted and removed the plastic end pieces to halt the flow of vital blood, freeing her from the last shackles of her “princess sleep”.
She cried, and cried, croaking statements such as “It’s not real!”, and “You’re not real!” whenever she gathered the strength to recall where she was, and what was happening. In a way, she was the strongest person in the room at the moment; Matthew wrapped his arms around her bloody body, pressing his ear to her chest and finding comfort in her familiar, if not greatly quickened heartbeat. All he could think to do was hold onto her, hoping that a familiar presence would help to draw her back to reality, even as blood trickling down the soaked into his hair.
Be Celestia, lost in dreams.
A long time ago you fell asleep, and ever since then you’ve been trying to wake up. Every time you wake up, it turns out it wasn’t real and you wake up all over again. No matter how weird or different your house looks, no matter how sure you were that you really woke up, nothing seems amiss.
Until it does.
Sometimes you can hear Twilight or your daddy talking to you, and sometimes when your dreams turn into nightmares, they arrive just in time to save you.
Most of the times they don’t, and the monsters get you.
Those horrible ugly little fluffy things, too many to count.
Then it starts again. A new house, a new world outside, and a new way that it all ends.
The world is hazy this time, like something is dragging you backwards all of the time. You fight it without much effort.
You leave the playroom, your ever faithful Blankie draped over you. You can’t feel her, but you know she’s there.
The hallway is quiet. Looking left everything looks alright, but to the right the hallway goes on forever and slants downward into darkness. The staircase is missing completely, just a bare wall where it should be.
You decide to go right.
Something feels itchy, and you can hear distant talking. Maybe from dads’ room?
Figure it couldn’t hurt to check, or if it did, it wouldn’t hurt for long.
The bed is just as tall as it ever was, and the paintings are just as pretty. But there aren’t paintings, not really, you just can’t remember what the outside looks like.
The voices are louder. The itching is moving. The pulling gets stronger.
Something is wrong.
You are sliding backwards. Out of the bedroom, towards your own bed in the playroom.
The carpet doesn’t look right, it’s not supposed to be red. Or have eyes.
Something is wrong.
The walls are talking and you stumble trying to turn around.
“Icky wawa. Nu taste gud.” “Nu wike dis. Munstah gon haf wakies!” “Gud smaww foodies on fwuffy fwoow!” “Moaw undew beepy-boxes!” “Bad wiaws, nu puww on sissie! Bubber buww on wiaws!”
Oh no. Fluffies. But where? You can’t see them! Normally they would have attacked by now!
Your heart begins to quicken and the world seems like its melting. You’ve fallen back into your bed and you feel a surge of agony.
Normally the pain has a cause, but you can’t see one. Normally the pain is dull, but this time is different. You feel like swords are piercing every inch of your body, in such a way that there is more pain than pony. Your blood feels like it’s on fire.
Your muscles feel heavy, and your limbs fail to correctly respond to your orders.
Something is wrong.
“Munstah movin wittow sissie! Hide! Wun to bubber!” “Huhuhu…” “Shhhh! Nu tawkies! No noisies!”
Like a thousand times before, you try to scream, but no sound escapes your mouth. Typical.
But something is wrong. Way more wrong than it usually is.
Your vision begins to swim, and the room, your room, dissolves away into… Your room.
For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel the sensation cool air on your face. You see sunlight peeking through the closed slats of your window,
Something wet runs down your back and you bound away from it. You feel your neck being twisted around, and the rattling of the machines. Squealing voices can be heard.
”Scawy munstah am haf’ wakies!” “Hide fwom munstah sissy! Nu wun!”
Damn it all. You dared to think that you had actually woken up this time, for real. You thought you’d get to join your family again.
But the nightmares followed you here. You must still be dreaming.
The door broke open. There stood the silhouettes of your father and sister, loudly stammering something that you cannot seem to properly process.
They both grapple you, and you feel the force of the impact. You feel your bones aching and muscles stretching as you try to push the false family away.
But something feels wrong… because something about this feels right. It feels… real.
Even if this weren’t really dad, even if this wasn’t really Twilight, Celestia broke down and tried to hug them back. She tried to hold onto them, so that they couldn’t leave her again. She’d been “lost” for so long, and didn’t want to ever be lost again.
Perhaps, she thought, that this was one of her happier dreams.
She wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.
“Darling beautiful baby, I need to get you cleaned up, checked out.” Matthew stumbled, “Please don’t be mad that your first thing back is a bath.”
He looked over the crime scene of a bed left behind.
“I’ll need to clean everything… Oh sweet baby…”
Celestia looked up at the wavering sight of the man carrying her down the hall and into the bathroom. She provided a query that caught him off guard.
“Do you r-remember… m-my… n-name?”
“What?”
She grew suspicious and upset at the avoidance.
“Tell me my NAME!
“Sweetie I don’t…”
“NO, IT’S NOT SWEETIE! Please… please remember me… I can’t remember me…”
“Celestia. You are Celestia. Celestia Winston. You’re your daddy’s little girl and you’ll always be.”
He set her down in the bath as gentle as she could.
He didn’t need to coax Twilight into following, she hopped in on her own feeling the cold, cold water of the shower starting up running down her back and wings, opened like an umbrella to protect her from the chill. Soon she would fold them back, and Tia would feel the balmy caress of the shower strip her coat slowly from red, to pink, to white.
All the while, she kept thinking “Winston… is that the right name?” she peered up through her heavy hair at her concerned sister… or at least the thing that looked like her. “I think it started with a ‘W’ noise…” but was that right?
She said nothing, just taking in the sound of false rain, the smell of hot mist, and the irony tang of running blood.
“Who are you.”
Twilight’s tears were lost instantly in the downpour of the showerhead, though the pain of the question was evident by the bereft expression on her face, the way her whole body slumped, by the way it knocked the breath from her little lungs.
“W-What? I-I-I’m your sister.” Twilight, remember? You remember right?”
Celestia tensed up. Was she still dreaming? How could she be sure?
Twilight’s spoke again however, and above the rumble of the shower Celestia heard her perfectly clear, her words like a crowbar prying open the gates of her haphazardly shuttered heart.
“Twily’s still here for you… It’s all gonna be okay.”
For the first time since she woke, their eyes truly met.
“It’s all gonna be okay? Like you always said when you saved me from the monsters?”
Twilight wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but she figured it must have had to do with her nightmares. She could hear her comforting words from the realm of the waking.
And if she could hear, maybe she could hear her more. Perhaps she could feel safe again.
Perhaps she could fully wake up and remember the wonderful person she once was.
She was awake of course… right?