Teleportation is just a flash, I once thought. Pop-poof and you're there. I should be able to forgive myself for thinking that, but I can't. I can't forgive any of my selves for being so fundamentally wrong.
It feels like three weeks ago, though there are no “weeks” in this empty place.
I simply teleported, as unthinkingly as ever. It was stupid. I just wanted to get to the top of the Castle of Friendship faster – I'd spent too long in the library with Starlight Glimmer. How could it be any more trivial? If only I'd known the suffering it would bring.
The familiar magical light flashed, and instantly I came to this place, this magical nowhere, an enormous empty sphere. Well, not entirely empty. I wish it was empty.
I hovered, motionless in the center, amazed as the teleportation spell did something I thought it had never done before. A copy of myself formed, taking bare seconds to build itself out of nothing. She was alike in every detail, but instead of watching in rapt attention, she floated limp, eyes closed.
Somewhere below me, I heard a spell being cast followed by a small explosion.
Poof, she was gone; I fell.
I fell on to a gruesome heap. My eyes took it in, my hooves felt the cold flesh underneath, but it took ages for my mind to accept it: an enormous pile of dead ponies. Dead purple ponies, unicorns, and alicorns. A pile of my own rotting corpses. Among them was a fresh body, its head missing.
My legs went weak at the sight, the smell of it. I couldn't stand to touch them, those horrific bodies.
I looked at the wall and saw writing in blood. Is that my blood? The writings…they’re calculations, diagrams, pictures and notes. It serves as a distraction from the gruesome sight beneath me.
It didn’t take me long to complete my piece of the puzzle. I’ve written the new instructions and series of spell matrix components on available space, so should I fail…or at least the “other” me fails, the cycle comes closer to the end.
Despite my feelings towards all previous versions of me for even contemplating teleportation, I have to commend The First (that’s what those who came after called her) for being the first to try and break the cycle.
“GRAB HER NOW.” As a concept, it’s quite simple. You see the new “you” develop from nothing in a few seconds. The First figured that physical contact with the teleporting pony would force the spell to carry that pony as well. But things aren’t ever that simple. Ignoring the fact that teleporting multiple ponies requires more energy than one pony, this sphere is probably meant to contain whoever is left behind.
I mean, grabbing the newest iteration of Twilight had probably been attempted by somepony from before, but they’d just never bothered to write down that thought process beforehoof.
This is quite unfortunate because while the most one would typically experience is some burned hairs or fur, the pony designated to remain here would suffer an excruciating death, as the First documented.
So began a series of experiments to bring all of this to an end. The notes taken and written are extensive. The lifespan of survivors, testers and testees, spells and actions attempted, and summarized hypotheses, theories, and conclusions are all written on available space on the wall.
Sometimes alternative viewpoints are brought in and add their own ideas. More often than not they fail; the Rainbow Dashes frequently attempt to fly repeatedly at the wall, which only serves to mess up the notes already taken with spattered blood. Applejacks try to buck their way out with a similar result.
Pinkie Pies are exceedingly rare. In fact, for as long as we’ve been testing, Pinkie has not shown up at all.
Rarity is useful; while her magic is more limited, her finesse and attention to detail have helped the components of the matrix become more efficient. This has allowed room for even more alterations.
Fluttershys go insane almost immediately, which is quite understandable. Perhaps my desensitized nature to the emotional wellbeing of my friends is a facet of my insanity.
Spike, Celestia bless him, is the most useful. While I tend to ramble and my notes are scattered, Spike knows my magical capabilities, and his notetaking is impressive. He is also quite rare in appearances, but he lasts quite a while due to the draconic ability of calorie retention and hibernation. Unfortunately, he is also a child; he’s not meant for this place. We ended his sufferings quickly.
Having other me’s is also rare, as these days one of us almost always dies in the testing process. Whatever time together there is, ideas are swapped and shared. It’s usually constructive…although the sheer magnitude of the situation occasionally results in a violent version of insanity.
Regardless of who is here, I’ve found it hard to eat. Drinking blood is fine, I’ve suckled enough of my own cuts as a filly and bitten the inside of my mouth enough times to have made this emotional leap. I sometimes delude myself into thinking it’s one of Rarity’s red wines from Prance. However, eating flesh still vexes me. I can’t even stomach the thought of eating my friends, so I’ve resorted to eating old me’s. Even then this is difficult. As a result of this and associated nutritional deficits, my magical reserves are low and my strength is abysmal.
I’ve lasted longer than most in this place. I chalk that up to the nature of the experiments these days, combined with rationing of resources and increased maturity compared to past selves. I quickly realized that the explosion from when I first got here was my predecessor’s suicide. She left a note on the wall, citing her slow descent into madness and unwillingness to destroy the research. She’d been here for a month. I fear the same may happen to me soon, but more from starvation than insanity.
However, I’m confident that my work is sound. What’s particularly exciting is that I might be the final one of have to suffer in this space between spaces, should I succeed.
The air in the room tingles. That’s the sign of a teleportation. Here she comes. I hope she doesn’t bring anypony else with her. They aren’t part of the solution, and will have to stay behind.
As the flash brings the “old” Twilight in, I immediately cast my spell. I hold the forming New Twilight in semi-stasis. I was never powerful enough to overcome another unicorn’s teleportation spell mid-casting, and my current condition only reinforces that. However I’ve slowed the formation of New Twilight enough that I think we can continue with the plan.
Old Twilight is dressed in royal regalia; she must be in Canterlot for an international summit or some such thing. Not my concern, though it means if we succeed, the resulting entrance will be quite…dramatic.
Old Twilight and the now slowly-forming New Twilight hover in the center of the space, with the conscious one looking as bewildered and terrified as ever. As she turns to me, I point to the instructions.
The obvious shock of seeing me aside, she’s horrified by the instructions. I know what she’s thinking, she isn’t the first I’ve seen like this. “There’s no time for debate,” I shout at her, “This is our chance to end this nightmare! Start casting, before it’s too late!” Ponies, being herd creatures, almost immediately follow an order when told. I have told Old Twilight that now is the time for action. She knows what she has to do. She’s a quick learner – I would know, I’m her.
My expectations, admittedly, have been low so far. Part of me expects this Twilight to blow up before the spell modifications are complete, or the spellcasting sequence may be incomplete, leaving her here with me. To my surprise, she performs all spells proficiently.
Once the modifications are complete, the half-formed New Twilight immediately starts spasming and screaming. Her skin is boiling, her teeth are falling out and replaced immediately. Her horn falls out and regrows.
The rapidity of this effect was unanticipated, especially in our time-dilated state. I will have to record this.
“Something’s wrong,” Old Twilight yells over the screams of her counterpart, “I’m feeling pain all over.”
I quickly surmise that whatever is happening with New Twilight is affecting Old Twilight as well. I determine the thread of the spell responsible; I believed we’d solved this problem in the last test, however I can see the similar pattern reactivating now. Stupid redundancies! “Can you nullify this section?” I ask the Old Twilight, highlighting a section of the matrix in my instructions with what little reserves I have left.
“No, the pain is limiting my ability to multicast! We need to do something quickly.”
I quickly come up with a solution. It increases the risk of this whole operation exponentially, however it increases the chances of success.
It’s a no-brainer. “I’m dropping my spell and channeling my power to you. By my calculations you’ll be able to survive for the remainder of the spell. It will be tougher and more painful than it is now. Do you understand?”
“I don’t like how this ends,” she responds.
“Buck what you like, lives are at stake including your own! Say you understand!”
After a brief hesitation, Old Twilight nods “I understand.”
I sigh in relief. I cancel my spell and immediately channel my remaining power reserves to her.
New Twilight is a gorey mess. She’s constantly decaying and regrowing all over. Whatever shows up at the destination of the teleportation will be a mess of flesh, bone and fur. I doubt she was ever truly conscious.
Old Twilight is keeping it together but the pain has magnified significantly. “I can’t hold it,” she screams.
I act on impulse. This has to work! Nopony else will suffer!
I go into overdrive. My horn starts cracking, first at the tip and quickly working its way to the base. The pain is intense, I cannot see. I accidentally bite my tongue as I concentrate, a familiar taste creeping its way down my throat as I swallow.
I can barely hear Old Twilight yelling over the ringing in my ears, “It’s working! We’re almost there!”
I can’t hold it anymore. I collapse as my horn explodes and a flash engulfs the sphere. I succumb to the darkness.
Some time later, I come to. I look around, and I’m in the familiar space. The bones are scattered here and there among the rotting flesh. The notes remain on the walls. I’m still here. Nothing has changed. The cycle continues.
Wait a second…
Nothing has changed! I see no new addition to the pile of flesh and bones! It must have worked!
For the first time since I arrived in this sphere, I allow myself to cry. We did it. One of us got out.
The chance of rescue for me is a desperate delusion, I know that. But I have another hope: Maybe this is the end. If it's enough to prevent anypony from ever teleporting again, that will be victory. That hope might be enough to let me rest in my final moments of life.
Please, I plead to my other self, please just never teleport again.