Pathfinder didn't react, any more than the other revolutionary guards did. He saluted as Sombra walked past, but remained beside Bit. His eyes stared forward blankly, off into the horizon, and did not move. The parade-ground below the stage gradually emptied, with ponies averting their eyes as they passed.
Bit remained silent for a few seconds, as the last of Sombra's guards followed him away. She approached slowly, extending one nervous hoof. "Pathfinder? How are you feeling?"
The pony didn't twitch, didn't meet her eyes. Was that how she looked when ponies spoke to her? Like something barely alive.
"I am ready to serve."
She watched ponies retreat from the square, let a faint dusting of snow settle over her. Despite the protection of the Zircon Spire, the cold seemed to penetrate straight through her crystal. "Okay, but... what happened?" She settled onto her haunches, adjusting the formal uniform she wore. A great luxury, marking her as a member of the party. Though most of the privileges of warmth and food and housing were useless to her.
Pathfinder didn't reply. His eyes remained glazed, staring out at nothing. Exactly like he was when Sombra visited. "Very well, Pathfinder. Come with me, I know how you can serve."
He obeyed. Possibly because he had no choice. The lights were dim by the time they returned to her lab—it was evening shift now, and this task hadn't warranted round-the-clock attention the way heat did. If only she'd been put with Secretary Ardor. Maybe she could've been tasked with upping the output of the hothouses next, growing larger crops for the city. Then she could follow them eagerly, instead of looking for a way out.
But would she have any desire to serve the revolution after what they'd done to Pathfinder?
At least there was no Diffuse Gloam or anypony else to scrutinize her work as she strode inside. Only her two automatons remained, wearing their usual white lab-coats and simple hats. The easiest way to mark them as separate from herself, when new technicians visited.
"Come here," Bit instructed, leading Pathfinder to the automaton servicing equipment. One of several machines she'd asked for that had nothing to do with making weapons. But nopony understood the technology well enough to know that.
Pathfinder sure didn't. He stood where instructed, and didn't move as she levitated a thin ring of wire to point in his direction. The power was working now, though there was no telling how long that would last.
Without prompting from her, the two crystal automatons arrived at her sides. They did not salute—she had no use for pointless displays. "What are we doing?" one asked.
Unprompted, Bit thought. That was surprisingly insightful for an automaton. "We have a patient to treat," she said. "This one has suffered unknown... trauma. We may need to perform corrective surgery."
Pathfinder focused on her suddenly, eyes intent. "I give service to the Revolution. Is standing here what is required?"
"For now," she said. "Remain where you are." She circled around to the back of the cabinet, where she'd hidden one of the tower's old terminals. They no longer had access to the tower's intranet, of course. But it wasn't like there was much new data being created there. It would look a little strange with Bit facing into a storage cabinet that glowed, but it wasn't something she'd used yet.
After a few seconds, diagnostic data filled the screen in front of her.
This wasn't like looking at one of the automatons, or even her own scan. There were no specified programs here, no subroutines, no delineation of memory storage and functional programming. The diagnostic did its best to explain the mind anyway. But even Bit could make little sense of it. She selected one "Dynamic Subroutine AEFF6EA" at random, expanding it for examination. Was this where Sombra had broken him?
Maybe, but Bit could make no sense of what it was supposed to do. Plenty of information was stored there, along with references to thousands of other dynamic subroutines—all in formats that the diagnostic equipment couldn't read.
I should've taken a backup. Fixing him without a point of reference could take years.
She didn't have years. Sombra was riding high on her current success, and focused on the conversion of Zircon to crystal life. But that wouldn't last forever. Sooner or later he would demand appreciable progress on a weapon, which she wasn't prepared to give.
Bit shut the cabinet carefully, walking back to stand before Pathfinder. She watched his eyes with every second, searching for recognition. She saw none. "What do you remember, Pathfinder? What did the Secretary of Labor do to you?"
He looked back, eyes gliding over her. So he was even worse than the automatons—at least they were completely unaware about the state of ponies around them. Pathfinder seemed to be actively avoiding it. "I served the revolution," he said. "The secretary will break all chains and unite all the world under a common banner. I serve him faithfully."
The secretary didn't reprogram you. He didn't use any crystal technology. This was something else, something older. Magic.
"We all serve faithfully," she said. "The revolution requires you to remain here."
He saluted again, and she hurried back to her computer terminal. This time she ignored the diagnostic data, and searched instead for the Wizard's magical records. It was the same database she'd used to diagnose his illness, when he returned poisoned from the palace. Only this time, she searched for mental symptoms.
Strange behavior, memory loss... as she went over his symptoms, possibilities dwindled down to just a few. A fungal parasite of the brain, which obviously couldn't be present, and one other option.
Mental conditioning inflicted by repeated use of restricted spells.
Bit opened the database, occasionally glancing at the two entrances. The morning shift wouldn't be arriving for a few hours yet, but she couldn't ever be certain. Maybe Sombra would send somepony to check on her during the night.
The database did not include instructions for inflicting such conditioning. The wizards had considered mind-altering spells forbidden at the highest level, and included no instructions about how to use them. Fortunately they hadn't felt the same way for the treatment.
Restoration of full function is never guaranteed—the mental resilience of the individual is always the most significant factor. But when intercepted soon after alterations are made, the robust psyche will always reassert itself. Those under the effects for years or more are often beyond saving, as the mind has adopted its new shape at every meaningful level.
That was enough to give Bit hope—Pathfinder hadn't been controlled for long. Not years, not even months. She only had a few weeks of damage to magically repair. Of course it would take more than one night to prepare a counterspell to something so powerful. The terminal cautioned repeatedly against any attempt to perform the spell from a pony who wasn't a lifetime expert in spellcasting. Even a purely beneficial healing spell was still a scalpel held directly beside the mind of a living pony.
During her free time over the next few days, Bit went over the diagrams in her head. It was true she learned quickly, and that she had decent mastery of levitation by now. But levitation would not undo the damage.
Of course she had to find a use for Pathfinder in the interim, something that would prevent him from being dragged away from the lab to some other purpose. He was still one of only a handful of crystal ponies, one with the annoying habit of seeking out ways he could be laboring for the revolution.
Bit changed him into lab gear, and gave him a list of responsibilities. She had him replace the fluids in her lab equipment, though in reality the service cycle lasted years instead of days. She gave him cleaning assignments, and even mental evaluations. Anything she could even pretend to justify to keep him with her. But as the days passed, Bit's nightly meditation got her nowhere close to casting the spell he needed.
If she wanted to help Pathfinder, Bit needed to find a pony to trust.
She considered Keen, even sent him a letter by messenger requesting a conversation. The reply came from his replacement in the Office of Heat: the former secretary had been recently demoted, and was currently undergoing the crystal procedure. But his replacement could assist her with anything she required.
She found some excuse, penning a brief letter worried about the output of the second heat waystation, and didn't really expect a reply. None came.
The more Bit watched what Zircon was doing with her research, the more she realized her mistake. What Sombra had done to Pathfinder, what he had probably done to those first volunteers, he could do to anyone in the city. Is that why he supported my research? Not because he wanted to lighten the burden for ponies struggling to survive the winter, but because they're vulnerable to a spell?
Crimson's research was always meant to prepare a new kind of pony, one that could survive the harshest possible natural conditions. Those created by civilization hadn't been part of the equation.
She made some feeble objections over the next few weeks, forwarding her concerns to the secretary. But she could no longer make a personal visit whenever she wished. Either he wasn't getting the message from his office, or just didn't care to reply. The effect was the same either way.
Maybe if Crimson was still alive in all his wisdom he might've been able to make some subtle sabotage of the process, one that would insulate those converted from future vulnerability. But Bit lacked that knowledge. Bit couldn't even restore a single mind on her own.
It was almost a month into winter before she started seeing crystal ponies moving through the streets of Zircon outside. At least they didn't all march in formation, all free-will stolen. These ponies seemed to be alive. But for every one she saw passing in the halls of Revolutionary Square, there were a half-dozen more in black armor.
"It's a placating tactic," she could almost hear Crimson whisper, as they watched a group of mineral ponies reuniting with their loved ones just outside the square. While the organic ponies shivered under the force of a fierce winter wind, the crystal ponies were naked, and completely unaffected. "Sombra has no interest in uplifting the population. But those who go for treatment must return, showing the population that he keeps his promises. Just as my father promises outrageous salaries to those who volunteer for military service. He can pay only a few, and give hope to the rest that they too might be so lucky."
And I made this possible. I could've hid in my tower and nothing would change. I let Sombra do this. Bit felt like she was locked in a small room slowly filling with acid. She'd clambered up onto the furniture, but already the liquid was dissolving her hooves. She could do nothing to keep it from rising now.
She could try to change a few lives, at least. She started with Comet Hum, one of her unicorns who had been among the least willing to work for her, while she still thought Bit was making poisons. But after over a month, she must know by now: Bit had no intention of poisoning anyone.
She brought Comet into the lab late one cold winter night, under the watchful eyes of her crystal automatons. "Wizard? You needed something from me?"
Bit nodded, gesturing towards the center of the room. There Pathfinder stood, staring blankly out at nothing. The intervening month had done little to restore his sanity. She'd seen almost nothing of the original pony under all that obedience and patriotism. But maybe that would change soon.
"You are required to serve Zircon and her ponies," Pathfinder barked, without even looking back. "It is not for you to question why."
Bit rolled her eyes, but didn't contradict him. Pathfinder obeyed her directions, but she had no doubt about how good he would be at keeping secrets, if he discovered disloyalty in her lab. Fortunately his mind-control hadn't implanted anything like technical skills, so he didn't actually understand when she was developing poisons, and when she was using her workers to squirrel away tremendous amounts of crystal-growing resources.
"Stand here, Comet Hum. I need your help with a spell." She gestured into the cabinet, then waited.
Comet watched her uncertainty for a moment, before peeking her head inside, then freezing in place, stunned by what she saw.
There was silence for almost a minute. Whether the pony was unsure of how to cast the spell, or just unsure of the digital console, at first Bit couldn't tell. But Comet wasn't the unicorn she trusted most because she was stupid.
"You want this spell for... yourself?"
"No." Bit took a few steps away, gesturing at Pathfinder. "This loyal pony is interested in greater service to Zircon. That spell should enhance his abilities. Memory, logical reasoning, intelligence... all traits I find desperately wanting from modern troops."