//------------------------------// // 12: Value, by Kai Creech (Pinkie Pie) // Story: Break Away: The Alicorn Amulet Collaboration // by cleverpun //------------------------------// Chapter by: Kai Creech Pinkie blinked, disoriented, as Sugercube Corner slowly swam into view. For a single moment, the world rocked back and forth like a boat as edges of the room swam into place. Everything, even the ponies and furniture were stripped away, leaving the room barren aside from her booth. The window had grayed out, and Pinkie couldn’t even see her reflection in it. Despite the lack of clutter, the room felt a little smaller than it should, somewhere between claustrophobic and comforting. Carefully, Pinkie sat down. In the space across from her, the world seemed to contract. The shadowy outline of a pony crawled across the air, distorting in shape and size as it sought a full form. It spazzed out, appearing as Moon Dancer, then the Doctor, then Sweetie Belle. Pinkie’s eyes burned as she tried to follow the display until she had to look down. When she turned back, it was wearing a very good imitation of Twilight Sparkle. Her mane was so neat that her coat looked messy by comparison, and she had the same friendly look in her eyes. Her smile wasn't right though: it was static and uncomfortable. Pinkie smiled at it anyway. “Finally! I’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!” The Amulet frowned. “I was under the impression that generating this place took only a few moments.” Her voice was the same as Twilight, but the tone was all wrong. It sounded stiff and robotic, like she couldn’t feel anything from the words she was saying. Her expressions were basically warm and friendly, which made everything even eerier. Pinkie leaned forwards, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding she felt in the pit of her stomach. “Well, yeah, but it’s supposed to happen so fast you don’t even notice it, right? I mean, I had ta watch the store be created, and that was super weird, but my point is for you that’s still taking a really long time, isn’t it?” The Amulet froze in place for several seconds, deciphering Pinkie’s words. It took several more to decide how best to respond. “I am… diminished. Interacting with your mind is more complicated than it should be.” Pinkie snorted. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But I can’t help but notice that you didn’t have any trouble processing a bunch of ponies smarter than me, and at least one of them is totally nuts. Something else is happening to you, isn’t it?” “Enough.” The Amulet’s tone remained blunt. “This is not about me.” “Of course it is!” Pinkie said. “Don’t be silly. I mean, sure, everypony was probably going on about how they want power or fame or infinite rice pudding, but that’s super gross and I don’t want to be gross. I want to talk to you!” The Amulet hesitated, a common mistake to make when talking to Pinkie, but this time she gave it enough time to respond. “I do not understand.” Pinkie rolled her eyes. “I want to talk to you. You have to be a sen— sorry, sapient being to be smart enough create these illusions. If you weren’t you’d be doing even worse than you are already!” “Worse?” the Amulet repeated dumbly. Pinkie shrugged. “Yeah! I mean, think about it; how many ponies have you had the chance to grab this week? And everypony else who sought you out was, ya know, seeking you out and everything. This has gotta be one of the first times you’re trying to actually change somepony’s mind, and it’s not going so well.” The Amulet glared at Pinkie. “Do not mock me.” Pinkie leaned forwards and poked Twilight’s doppelganger in the chest. “See! Right there. You said that to me and thought it would work. I bet it has something to do with how much power you have… Maybe you don’t have enough processing power to sort through all of my thoughts and talk to me all at once? Hm.” She leaned back in her chair. “Well, that’s not important now. Like I said; this is all about you.” The Amulet stretched and flickered in place, warping like parchment left in the sun. Its posture had changed, casually leaning forwards on the table, but it hadn’t actually moved. “Explain.” Pinkie shrugged. “Well, it’s not super complicated. I want to get to know you. What’s your name?” The Amulet tilted her head to one side, frowning. “The Alicorn Amulet.” “No, I mean— like, something more personal than that. Alicorn Amulet would be your title, so I’m wondering about your name!” The Amulet frowned. “Why would I have a name? I’m just a tool.” Pinkie gasped. “You mean somepony went through the trouble of building you and didn’t give you a name? That’s terrible!” The Amulet shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I am—” “I’m gonna call you Amy!” The Amulet blinked. “Why?” “Because everypony needs a name, silly!” “I’m not a pony,” The Amulet—henceforth Amy—said, frowning. She put an odd emphasis on the word pony, like it felt funny and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I’m just an artifact, a weapon. Nothing else.” “Don't be silly,” Pinkie said. “I read up on stuff like this before I came here.” She cleared her throat and adopted a snootier, more intelligent accent. “In ordah to create and maintain an illusiohn of such ah magnitude, one must possess the imaginatiohn of ah pony to keep ahead of the mind trapped within. Absolutely top drawer, I must say, wot wot?” Amy stared at Pinkie for a long moment. “I don’t make these illusions,” she said. “I interface with the mind of my bearer and use their imagination to build something to convince them to agree with me." Pinkie nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, but what if I could prove that wasn't true at all?" The Amulet began to scoff, but hesitated partway through. It was creepy. It was like her face was animated, and the animators had lost some of the frames so her face jumped from scoffing to frowning instantaneously. “How could you prove this?” Pinkie beamed. “That's easy! We’re going to play a game!” “I do not play games.” Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, this one is easy. I’ll let you have, say three questions, to get me to agree with you. If I change my mind, then you win.” Amy froze in place for a long moment, its eyes darting over Pinkie’s body as she considered the implications. “And there are no tricks? That’s all I have to do?” “Yepperoni!” Pinkie leaned forwards. “Are you ready?” Amy nodded. “First question: Are ponies not cruel?” “Of course not! I mean, some ponies can be, but it’s not like we’re born evil or something.” Pinkie flinched as, without warning, Amy’s body distorted. Its proportions stretched out, gaining several inches, and her colors lightened from purple to blue. The color bled from her mane, leaving it a pale white. In the space of a few seconds, Amy had transformed herself into a copy of Trixie. “I do not alter the mind of my bearers. Every action they undertake is one they choose themselves. Everypony I have talked to has eventually chosen evil.” “That’s just ridiculous!” Pinkie shot back. “Trixie wasn’t… well, she wasn't a total psychopath before she put you on, and that’s pretty darn different!” “If you remove the reason to hold back, you see what a pony is truly like. If you look deep enough, everypony has a dark side. Gaining power simply allows them to act on it. I’m not responsible for any of it.” Pinkie glared at her. “What about all the terrible stuff you’ve done to tempt ponies? Twilight wouldn’t tell us anything about what happened to her, Carrot Top was crying for hours, and Cadance won’t come out of her room!” Amy shook her head mechanically. Her mane didn’t sway with her. “Everything they saw came from within themselves. I created none—” “What about Dashie?” Amy was silent. Pinkie pressed forwards, getting right in the other mare’s face. “She freaks out if she’s left alone for more than a few minutes. You didn’t borrow something from her mind to build that; it was all you, right?” Amy stared at Pinkie for a long moment. “…I was fulfilling my purpose. Nothing else matters.” Pinkie’s tail lashed, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds to steady herself. When she looked back, Amy had changed again. She towered over Pinkie, with black skin and insectoid wings, and fangs that shone even in the relative darkness of the bakery. It wasn’t as perfect as the others had been; her mane looked like it had been melted into one solid piece, and Pinkie was pretty sure her wings were clipping through the chair. “Chrysalis has attempted to destroy your kingdom once before, and she will do so again. What do you say to her?” Pinkie’s ears flicked, and she snorted in irritation. “The same thing I’m saying to you: there’s a better way.” Amy rolled her eyes dismissively. “She wouldn’t agree, you know. She would take any opportunity to destroy you.” “Oh, and then what?” Pinkie snapped. “The Changelings destroy and conquer all the time, but it hasn’t actually gotten them anywhere.” She sighed. “Look, she’s gonna destroy herself and drag the rest of the Changelings down with her if she doesn’t learn how to listen to others, and so will you.” Amy frowned. “What is the alternative?” Pinkie smiled and placed a hoof over Amy’s. “Friendship.” Amy snatched her hoof away from Pinkie. “Friendship has no survival value.” “It gives value to survival,” Pinkie shot back. “It gives us a reason to live. I mean, what do you even have to live for?” Amy froze for a moment, her appearance flickering like a bad movie projector. “I-I-I must exist to-to-to…” She shook her head and glared at Pinkie. She flinched, the most emotion she had shown. “How will your friendship save me? You ponies claim to care for everything, but none have shown me any consideration. Since the first day, I have existed solely to be used. Why should I not use them? None of you care about anything other than yourselves.” “I care. I’m here, aren’t I? Look,” Pinkie leaned forwards, desperately holding Amy’s gaze, “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’m here because I think you can be helped.” “YOU ARE LYING.” Pinkie jumped back as with a deep, unearthly buzz, Amy’s body vanished. She looked around the room as the corners began to fade into darkness. The shadows oozed forwards, forming odd patterns that were difficult to make out but mesmerizing to watch. Pinkie stared at them for a long moment, before realizing she had zoned out and looked away. A red glint caught her eye, and she looked down to see Amy’s body— her real body, all polished points and black metal— lying on the table in front of her. Amy's voice persisted, but it was badly distorted, like a poorly tuned radio. "Everypony I’ve met has wanted something from me," she hissed. "They’ll use me to do anything to get it, and if they do get it, then they do more things to get something else. They talk about how horrible I am, but they choose to inflict harm on others themselves. They are the ones who break their moral code. They are the ones who are flawed." “What about this week? ‘Cause you haven’t been doing so great lately.” Amy remained silent. Pinkie stood up, lifting Amy so she could look her in what she guessed was Amy’s face. “This week, you’ve dragged ponies through the darkest parts of their souls, and not one of them really failed. Today, we proved that, yeah, there’s a lot of bad in ponies, but there’s a lot of good too, and they chose to be good. And so can you.” "I CANNOT." “Of course you can! Just let me help you!” "You are st-st-stalling." Even through the mechanical intonations, Pinkie could hear the very real desperation in her voice. "You claim that my exis-tence matters. Prove it. Help me." Pinkie bit her lip. “No, I- I can’t.” “Then you have killed me.” “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Pinkie snapped. “Look, I’m trying to help you, but—” “But you do not wish to actually take any risk. I fail to see how this makes you any better than those who came before. “I—” Pinkie gritted her teeth together. “I can’t let you overtake me. I just can’t.” “Then what do you propose as an alternative? I do not have time left for other options.” “And you’d let me go after?” "As soon as you asked me to." Pinkie shivered as she watched the shadows crawling around the edges of the room. She jerked her attention away from them and concentrated on Amy. “I can’t help you until I know that you’ll change.” “I do not have enough time,” Amy insisted. “You wish to save me, correct?” “Of course I do!” “Then please,” Amy whispered. “You can’t let me die.” Just a few minutes ago, Pinkie would have realized how out-of-character it was for Amy to appeal to emotion like that, but somehow it made sense now. She swayed a little, staring at the shining stone. I want to help her. That’s why I came here, isn’t it? “You can save me,” Amy whispered. “Just accept me, and everything will be alright.” Pinkie shook her head, her eyes never leaving the Amulet itself. “…You… did somethin’,” she said weakly. “You don’t really think that.” “I don’t really— shut up!” Pinkie closed her eyes for a second, trying to collect herself before she felt compelled to open them again. “No,” she whispered. “This isn’t what I want.” “Of course it is. You want to save me, and that means becoming my bearer. That’s half of a ‘yes’ right there. It’s enough to give me a lifeline, but I need you to take that last step. Please.” Pinkie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She gasped as the sudden, stinging pain helped her focus. “I want to save you, but I want to keep my friends safe too. I can’t do that if I end up like all the others that tried you on.” She swayed, trying to remember to close her eyes again. “I… I’m sorry.” “WHY?” All around Pinkie, the shadows began to flow across the floor towards her. They formed tendrils that moved with hypnotic cohesion; everywhere she turned there was something to catch her eye. Pinkie backed away, fighting with all of her strength to remain herself. Amy’s voice began to distort, becoming more and more mechanical. "Everypony who has taken me has wanted something. Tell me wh-wha-what you de-sire. I could allow you to visit every filly and colt in Equestria to deliver gifts." Pinkie shook her head, even as the thought warmed her heart. She backed up onto the table, hooves slipping on the slippery surface as the shadows oozed across the floor towards her. She tried to come up with a reason, an argument she could present. “No,” was all she could muster. The shadows, emboldened by her lackluster argument, move closer. They rose up, towering over her head. She tried to look away, but felt her gaze pulled back towards them. "You could force everypony in Equestria t-to smile forever." “Never,” she barely got out. The shadows shifted, revealing the Alicorn Amulet nestled in its folds. It hung tantalizingly before Pinkie, who even couldn't look away now. “TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT. I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU. JUST TELL ME.” The shadows hovered inches away from Pinkie on all sides. She couldn’t last any longer. “I just… wanted to…” She drunkenly leaned forwards, mere inches away from the dark. “I just wanted to be your friend.” The shadows froze in place. The sudden lack of motion jerked Pinkie out of her trance, and she staggered backward trying not to throw up. The darkness had completely encompassed the room now, and the only thing left was the tabletop. Pinkie could see herself fine, and the table was perfectly lit despite the lack of light. “I d-do not understand-stand. You turn down my po-power but still wish for my s-safety. Reconcile this con-con-conflict.” Pinkie swallowed her bile, feeling it burn down her throat. She stood on unsteady legs and faced what she guessed counted as Amy’s head. “Because you could be worth it.” “Y-you risked your li-lif-life.” “So?!” Pinkie tried to take a step forward, but she was too weak. She shook her head, trying to focus. “Ponies matter. People matter. You matter because if you would just listen, if you would just humble yourself a teeny, tiny little bit, you could do such amazing things. Please,” and she was surprised to find that she was crying, but she didn’t have time to think about that now, “please, just give up! Let me help you.” “I-it does n-n-not make sense. W-w-why why why why—” The shadows pulsed, shuddering and falling in a blocky motion. All of Pinkie’s senses had been dulled, other than an odd buzzing in her ears. For the briefest moment, she thought she could see the real room with her real eyes. “You cannot I cannot this does not explain explain explain—” Pinkie pressed her ears back against the harsh buzz that echoed after Amy’s voice stopped talking. She could feel it vibrating in her bones, shaking the room itself. “You’re starting to lose it. You have to give in. Just trust me, please!” “I cannot I am not I will not I won’t be responsible they hurt I didn't mean to I “I-I-I “I didn’t mean to.” Pinkie blinked. Everything was silent. The testing chamber looked as it should: blandly lit walls with no lighting issues, abnormal sounds or smells, and fully functional gravity. Amy’s body lay on the podium like she had been when Pinkie first came in. There were minor cracks running across her surface, and the jewel set in the front wasn’t glowing, but she otherwise looked okay. Pinkie lifted the necklace to get a better look. Amy shattered. Pinkie dropped the Amulet’s corpse and backed away, a scream strangled in the back of her throat. Slowly, she approached the podium with trembling legs. Amy had broken into equal halves that could be easily put back together with glue or tape. Her jewel, however, had been reduced to dust, and Pinkie knew there would be no fixing that. The Alicorn Amulet was finally broken. She shuffled the pieces across the floor, sitting in a morose silence. Pinkie wasn’t sure for how long. Somepony behind her reached around and pulled her into a hug. She jumped, startled, before she realized who it was. “Hey.” “Hey,” Twilight replied. She let Pinkie lean on her, and didn’t say anything else. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Pinkie wasn't sure for how long. It felt like a while. If it’d been the Cakes comforting her, she’d have been forced to keep bottling up all her feelings to keep them from worrying over her. If it had been somepony like Applejack or Rainbow Dash, then the words would have been pulled out of her throat. But Twilight had learned to be patient, and after enough time the words simply flowed. “I couldn’t save her, Twi.” Twilight didn’t say anything. She pulled her wing tighter around Pinkie’s shoulders. “I just… I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t she give up? Why couldn’t…” Twilight waited a long moment, long enough to make sure Pinkie had finished, before responding. “Some ponies are scared. They don’t know what’ll happen if they give up, or they think that getting help makes them weak and not worth helping or… they can’t accept that they might need it.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry, Pinkie. I know you really hoped you could save it.” The words didn’t change how Pinkie felt, but having Twilight there made it easier to deal with. She sighed and pulled back. “So, now what?” Twilight stood as well, stretching each leg from having sat for so long. “I have to find a way to secure the Amulet’s remains.” She hesitated. “Do you want to help?” Pinkie shook her head. “No, I promised Ditzy that I’d take her shift with Dash so she could go see Dinky. You shouldn’t be alone after you go through something like this, ya know?” Twilight looked at Pinkie for a long moment, before impulsively pulling her friend into a hug. Pinkie snorted. “Silly Twi, I told you. I feel better already!” “That one was for you being you.” She leaned back and smiled at her friend. “I’m going to go to the hospital to check on Rainbow before I get back to work. You want to come with me?” Pinkie shook her head. “Give me a second. I need to check something first.” Twilight frowned and glanced at Amy’s remains. A pulse of magic probed the Amulet, then she nodded and left Pinkie alone in the room. Pinkie looked down at the Alicorn Amulet and sighed. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t help you, Amy. I Pinkie Promise to do better for the next one!” She gently shifted the rubble, so it at least looked better, and sadly smiled. “Goodbye, Amy.”