My Little Clony

by therealfeedback

Act I, Chapter III

The backstage area was a relatively calm switch from the dance floor – Grey hallways with doors leading off to rooms. No copies to worry about, the only things living back here were employees of the venue, groupies, and us.

“Caesar, long time no see, though I wouldn’t have recognized you with the getup.” She smiled, levitating and playing with the tassel on the fez with magic. “So, what’re you here for?”

“It’s a long story,” I replied. “And one I want to discuss with you all privately. Can we go to your dressing room?” She nodded, leading us to a door farther down the hall, with the name “P0N-3” stamped on it.

She pushed open the door, and the four of us entered behind her. The room wasn’t extravagant, but neither was it mundane; three couches, assorted electronics, a keyboard, and boxes of records were all around a table, with a mirror mounted to the wall behind, and the scent of vinyl. We took a seat, as did she, pulling the goggles up off her eyes and onto her forehead as she did.

“Right, so, what’s all this about?” She asked.

“Yes, what is it all about? The Doctor echoed, the curiosity from the rest of the day stronger in his voice.

“Well, as you all saw out there,” I started. “There was another Caesar. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen another me, either. There are clones. Clones of all of us, too.” At that, I took my tophat back from the doctor, placing his fez back on his head. I reached into my hat, pulling out a set of photos that had been in a pouch inside it.

I tossed them onto the table for the others to see – photos of what appeared to be them, but different. Different lifestyles, different surroundings, different locations. But identical copies of them.

“How…how did you edit these?” The Doctor asked, a hint of nervousness now in his voice. “This is me, but…I’ve never been to an opera before…”

“Who’s this a photo of?” Derpy chimed in. “It…it looks like me, but I’m me. …Right?”

“This is what I’ve been doing ever since the Gala, where I saw two other Caesars, exactly like each other; exactly like me. I’ve been researching these duplicates, these clones, finding them in different areas, different times, different ponies, different lives, figuring out how they differ, what differences there are, and moreover, what differences there aren’t.”

“What I’ve concluded is that, in essence, we’re all clones. All different mutations of a single master piece of DNA. All engineered by a single mastermind somewhere. We’re all tools in what’s either a sick game or a sick experiment. We may have our own minds, dreams, thoughts, but that’s irrelevant to them. Those who learn the truth get thrown out, replaced with an identical copy – the same mutation, reproduced. Odds are not one of us is an original. Maybe there are some who are unique at the moment, but their strand can be replicated just as easily.”

“There are multiple copies of all of us running around, too. Equestria is populated by these clones. This Caesar is the businesscolt in front of you. Another is an accountant for a firm based out of Hoofington. Doc, that doppelganger of you in that photo is an opera singer on the other side of the planet. Derpy, that straight-eyed other you that you’re looking at is one of the Wonderbolts.”

“And these are just the ones I’ve found. For all I know, there are dozens, maybe hundreds, maybe even thousands of us, all running around living carefully calculated lives, so we never run into our doubles. And when we do, we’re replaced, because we’ve invalidated the experiment, we’ve broken the rules of the game.”

“This…this is…” The doctor stammered.

“Drunken crap is what it is.” Snapped P0N-3. “Trixie and I travel the entire world performing. How come we’ve never seen these clones?”

“Because the game master can’t have that, can they?” I pulled four photos out of the hat, tossing two to each of the entertainers. “I’ve managed to hunt down two clones of each of you.”

“Vinyl, you’re also known as a blacksmith in Fillydephia, and a cook in Fort Clopperdale. The Trixies are a seamstress, and a…pony of the night, lets call it.” Trixie’s blue coat lit up bright red from the comment, but the photo didn’t lie. “And again, if the game master caught wind of any of us doing this, or deciding things for ourselves in a way that’d jeopardize the experiments, we’d be gone, just like that.” I slammed a hoof against the floor for emphasis.

“So why are you telling us this? What do you want to do?” The Doctor asked, the concern and confusion gone, now replaced with a deadly seriousness. “We’re five ponies, what can we do against this?”

“We’re not just five ponies.” I responded. “We may all just be more copies alone, but we’re all particularly talented variants of ourselves. I’ve navigated my way through business clean and dirty, and I know how to run an operation like the back of my hoof. Doc, you’re one of the brightest, and most resourceful ponies I know. You can think on your hooves like nopony else.”

“Trixie, as I said in Foalton, you’re a damn good illusionist. Controlling what your enemy thinks is real is as powerful a weapon as any gun. You also have star power. As do you Vinyl, and of course there’s your love of firearms.”

“Derpy, you may not have the vision that you probably does, but another one of you is a damn Wonderbolt, I’d say that’s a pretty good voucher for your flying abilities. And of course, a postal worker isn’t to be underestimated – when you control the mail, you control…information.”

“The sixth pony I wanted to bring in would be the muscle, but his job requires travel, and he’s on the other side of Equestria right now, nothing that can be done about that.”

“Alright, alright,” Chimed in Scratch. “So we’re all some sort of super team of badasses when combined. Or something. You still haven’t said what this is supposed to let us do.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said plainly. “This has gone on for centuries, maybe even millennia, and nobody’s noticed and lived long enough to do something. Until now. And we’re going to end this. We’re going to find this game master. We’re going to find out who they are, where they operate from, why they’re doing this, and how.”

“And we’re going to stop them. We’re going to end this twisted illusion of a reality, these preplanned lives we’ve been forced into living, these sick machinations. We’re going to give everypony what we all are born, or created as it well may be, deserving. Freedom. Choice. Individuality.”

“This is….a lot to take in.” Vinyl mentioned.

“That’s an understatement.” Added Doctor Whoof. “This is basically saying everything we know has all been some grand conspiracy. This is…crazy. Crazier than I ever expected from you.”

“You saw the second Caesar with your own eyes.” I answered. “If you want, we can go look at your doppelgangers too. My ideas of who the game master is may be conjecture, but this isn’t. This is solid fact. I’ve nothing to hide. If you don’t believe me, then you can leave and ignore everything I’ve said until now.”

This silence was the moment of truth. Whether they’d believe me. Whether they’d see what I saw, awake to what I awoke to. Every moment of silence is an eternity in which my confidence is rattled more and more. Until finally,

“I…I’ll go with you.” To my surprise, as well as everyone else, the one who chimed up was Derpy, of all of them. “I…I don’t really understand, but…but I want Dinky to get to…choose her own life…I don’t want some big mean game master picking it for her. Besides, people say I say crazy things all the time, this doesn’t seem so crazy. And if…if one of me is a Wonderbolt…I want to be able to do that too. I could be so much better with the mail if I could move like that…”

I smiled. It was a start, with probably the least skeptic of the group, but a start nonetheless. “Thank you Derpy. It’s good to have a friend onboard. The rest of you?”

“…What the hell.” This time it was Vinyl Scratch. “The world can live without one DJ for a few months if you’re wrong, and if you’re right, I’m not going on someone else’s path. I’m taking my path. This could be the biggest thing ever, and I’m going to be on the right side if I’m on one.”

Next was Trixie. “Count me in. If nothing else, this…tramp…is ruining my name. If she’s doing it because she thinks it funny, I’ll make her pay. And if not, I’ll make whoever decided I’d make a good skank pay.”

The stoic expression on my face had faded from view, a grin now taking its place. “Well, doc? That just leaves you.” There was a moment of silence, during which he stared at the photos again.

“If you’re wrong, I don’t think I need to tell you how cross I’ll be. If you’re right, there’s no way I’m letting this stand. I’m in.”

The grin widened. All four were with me. I only needed Engi, and the team would be complete, but we could start as we are.

“Wonderful, I’m honoured to have you all with me.”