//------------------------------// // Chapter 15: The Golem // Story: The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// Penumbra was brought to something like an office. Really, it was a flat, railingless platform high above the factory floor below. The view was incredible, but, in a way, threatening: there were so many of them, all at work, both on more of the large golems as well as on machines that seemed to continuously assemble and birth more of their kind. The platform was only connected to the wall on one side. That wall contained a number of cases, each containing various golems in various stages of disassembly- -or outright destruction. “What are they?” she asked. “Prototypes. Largely failures. A few are the work of others. I keep them here to draw inspiration for my own creations. Do you like them?” “Is that...morbid?” The golem paused. “Perhaps it is. That thought never occurred to me. How intriguing.” He gestured to the otherwise empty office. “Would you like to sit, princess?” “On the floor?” “No. Not unless you want to.” Golems suddenly swarmed across the platform. Some brought chairs, and one of the larger golems sat Penumbra into the softer of the two. A table galloped into the space before her and stood still while several other golems placed doileys and cups. “Do you like tea?” “Tea? I do not know what that is...” “Then you can try it. I like tea. It tastes like leaves. Which I also like.” A golem extended a hoof, which unfolded into a thin effector. It produced a steaming tea-kettle and poured some water into both cups. As Penumbra watched, a tiny golem no larger than her hoof bounded across the table, a tea-bag held on its back. It raced to her teacup and plunged the bag into the tea, dunking it several times to dye the water brown. A second tiny golem appeared and held up a white cube between its tiny hooves. “Sugar?” “Is that what it is called?” “No sugar, then.” The tiny golem took the cube away, and with the other they ran to one end of the table and jumped off, rejoining a substantial horde of their kind and fleeing through a small hole in the wall. The remainder of the golems retreated as well, fleeing save for a few larger ones that took up defensive stations on the four corners of the platform. The main golem, the advanced one, carefully lifted his teacup and took a sip. “You drink...tea?” His mechanical eyes flicked to Penumbra and narrowed, examining her closely. “Does that surprise you?” “Do machines...normally do that?” “No. But I do. Is that your impression of me? Am I a machine?” “Are you not? I don’t understand.” “I am. You are correct. But I do drink tea. I can also eat. Would it surprise you to learn that much of my tissue is very similar to living material? That I have blood, even if it is made of nanoscopic golems? That I regenerate when wounded?” “I don’t know if that is ordinary or not.” “Then you have no frame of reference. How uncommon.” He pointed at Penumbra’s cup. “If you do not drink it, it will grow cold.” “Oh. My apologies?” Penumbra shakily levitated the cup and took a sip. She recoiled and winced. “Ow! So hot!” “But what does it taste like? To you?” “Like...pain?” “How peculiar.” “I am afraid I do not know much about taste. The only thing I eat is the potion that Crozea gives me.” “To control your growth. I am aware of this.” “How?” “I read the steward’s weekly notes. I have been following your progress for some time.” “And...who are you, exactly? Forgive me for asking, I just don’t know.” “Because I did not introduce myself. It took you sixteen minutes and seventeen seconds to ask. The average is one minute seven seconds. I am Unit #8471. My name is Emeth.” He pointed to his head. “I am called this because it is written on my forehead.” Penumbra squinted. “In what language?” “I do not know. I can read it, though. I do not know why.” Penumbra suddenly gasped. “I know your name! You are one of the Dark Thirteen!” She tried to bow, but instead struck her head on the table, nearly spilling her tea. “Ow- -I am Penumbra Heartbreak, and I am pleased to meet you Lord Emeth- -” “Lord? Have I been promoted? I am a lord of nothing. Only a machine.” Penumbra looked up, absolutely confused. “Of course you have been programmed to address me as such. Never mind.” He sipped his tea again. “Yes. I am a member of the Dark Thirteen. Although I am also technically property of Sombra. I suppose that all of the Thirteen save for the Nameless One are. You are also his property.” “Yes. I am aware of that.” “And you do not reject that classification?” “I have no reason to. He created me. I belong to him, to serve his will.” Emeth stared at her for a long moment, and then smiled. It was a strange smile, made from a mouth not meant to do anything more than bite and speak, but it was a sincere one. “How peculiar.” Penumbra took another sip of her tea. It still burned, but she had been trained to tolerate far worse pain. It did taste strange, though. She had no frame of reference to know if it was good or bad, but knew that drinking it was the polite thing to do. “Now. I am somewhat curious, princess. I do not understand how you came to find me, or why you were so panicked when you came.” Penumbra felt a jolt of fear through her chest, and though it was weakened, she still hated it. “I had been looking for Lord Heartstrings.” “The Blue Knight? Why?” Penumbra blushed. “I- -I needed to speak with him.” “He does not live in the Citadel. He is a land-holding knight, and has a manor in the northeastern octant.” “What?! Eternity!” “Oops,” said the voice in her head. “I am surprised that Eternity did not tell you. Although not terribly much. I do not know her well. She cannot speak to me.” “It’s true,” sighed Eternity. “Super annoy- -OH LOOK! One of the concubines has CAKE!!” Penumbra winced at the sudden surge in volume. “Ah. She got distracted.” “Yes. She did.” “I hear that is common. However, we have digressed. My facility is built in abandoned mines nearly a mile from the Citadel, so not to interfere with Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz’s archaeological expeditions. You have come a long way.” “I got lost.” Penumbra held her front legs around her, hugging herself. “And I saw- -I saw bad things.” “There are several species of monster that infest the dungeons, sewers, lower districts, caves, and mines. If you tell me what they were, I can send myselves to exterminate them.” “I- -I don’t want to do that. I don’t want them to be hurt.” “Even if they hurt you?” “They did not. They just...” she shook her head. She was ashamed. “They scared me.” “Clearly. What were they? Stoats? Snorks?” “I don’t know. One of them was small, and flat. Like a pony...but not really. And dressed all in black.” “With feathers, and surrounded by ravens?” Penumbra looked up, confused. “Large, black birds.” Penumbra gasped. “YES! That was what I saw! Was that a stoat?” “No. A stoat is a type of weasel. Nor was it a snork, or even a drowner. Or one of those large frogs with the two heads. Nor was it a ‘what’. That was Eight of Thirteen, Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz. Who I just mentioned.” Penumbra nearly jumped out of her seat. “THAT thing was one of the Dark Thirteen?!” “He is. A mathematician, engineer, metaphysicist, and archaeologist. He is not a ‘thing’ any more than you or I are. He is a pony.” “A- -a pony?” “Yes. Although before having met him, I thought is race was extinct. The last time I saw them was over two hundred thousand years ago. From conversations with him, I have gathered that some remnants of his civilization survived the Great Cataclysm, though I do not know where they are. Which is probably a good thing.” “But he chased me! He was going to eat me!” “He cannot eat you.” “He threatened to baste me in my own juices!” “Yes. Because that is the most delicious way that you could be prepared. Regardless, he cannot remove his containment suit. Not even to eat.” “He can’t?” “No. He cannot survive without it. He would freeze.” Emeth’s eyes narrowed. “However, it is very unlike him to chase a pony. He normally hides. You must have done something quite terrible to provoke him.” “I...well...I went into a big room, and there was a giant...thing. And I touched it. She held up her hoof. “See? It burned me?” Emeth focused on the injury, which was healing rapidly. “That is a radiation burn. The object you touched. Was it rather large, and circular? With a large number of gears?” “Yes! That one!” “Then you deserved what you got.” “No I didn’t!” “If you touched it at this stage, you contaminated it. Badly. He has worked for months without sleep on completing that project. His precision is exacting, for the sake of his respect and admiration of your father. And you entered his lab without permission and ruined it.” Emeth reached down and picked up one of the tiny pony-golems. “It would be as if you entered my facility and smashed this tiny golem.” “But that golem is so cute! Who would do that?” “You would. Al’Hrabnaz reacted out of anger and fear.” “No! You don’t understand. I was the one who was afraid.” “If he chased you, he was afraid. Driven by it to seek the illusion of power. It is something organics do, and often. He does not get along with ponies. The others consider him the second-lowest rank of us, and he panics when he has to meet other ponies.” “But he speaks to you.” “Because I am a machine, and he is comfortable around us. But not you. You entered his private room, ruined his work, and then turned around and terrified him. Then you came to me and told me he was a monster. How does this make you feel?” Penumbra felt her heart fall. She opened her mouth, but for some reason she could not speak. Her eyes had begun to sting and water. “I...I didn’t mean to,” she said at last. She stared down into her tea. “I judged a pony. Based on his appearance, when he was just afraid and mad at me when I was in the wrong. I feel so terrible. Why does it hurt?” “And you said there was a second monster.” Penumbra’s heart fell even further. “Yes.” “Resembling?” “Like a big earth-pony. But with hooks in his eyes and mouth, and no back legs. And metal everywhere...” “Then you have made the same mistake twice. That was Buttonhooks the Mad, the most reasonable of us all. Ask Eternity Gaze why he was there.” Penumbra did not need to. Eternity heard the question. “Misty sent him to find you,” she said. “She is aging fast and too weak to fight the stoats. He is always happy to take a trip to the basement. But never to see me. Which is probably better. He is super ugly, although I’m sure he’d be one heck of a lover.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because I enjoy watching you in fear and pain. I hate you, Penumbra. I hate you SO BUCKING MUCH. Because you are young and pretty, and you can WALK. I will never be either of those things. So you DESERVE PAIN.” This was followed by laughter, then a sudden sputter. “Potatoes...why does Sombra insist on growing them? The sound...by Epona, I cannot STAND THE SOUND THEY MAKE.” Penumbra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Why does he look like that?” “Buttonhooks’s research focuses entirely on pain. It is a gruesome task. He himself is an explorer of it, finding new and better sources of pain. The very best he uses on himself.” “Why?” “I would not know. I am incapable of pain, or any feeling at all. I wonder it so very deeply, and wish I could know. But I cannot. Ask him yourself, if you see him. The pain has apparently put him in a state of perpetual peace. But do not approach smaller ponies that look like him. They have not yet learned whatever epiphany he has found.” “I will commit it to memory.” Penumbra put her hoof around her tea. It was warm, but cooling fast. “I am curious, though,” continued Emeth. “You judged those ponies to be frightening, and ran. Yet you did not run from me, although I look equally as strange. Why is that?” Penumbra looked up at him. “I...I don’t know.” “Would you care to venture a guess?” Penumbra paused. “I can just...tell? Lord Emeth, I am afraid I do not have the vocabulary to explain it.” “That is acceptable. But I am glad. I do not like to be feared.” Penumbra blinked. “Why not? Fear is how you control ponies, and make them free.” “According to Scarlet Mist, perhaps. I find fear to be a distraction. It is my primary disagreement with your father. No advancement can occur while ponies are preoccupied with fear. Their society will be trapped in stasis until it is superseded by another. The proposition is inherently unstable.” He swirled his tea. “But your father is young, barely a foal. He may understand as he grows older. Or not. It does not affect me either way, though I am interested in the conclusion. I wonder if that is wrong.” “I don’t think it is,” said Penumbra. “Crozea says it’s important to be curious. But when she says it, it rhymes.” “Without curiosity, one cannot know what she does not know, and trapped as such she shall never begin to grow.” Penumbra gasped. “You can rhyme!” “So can you, I am sure.” He looked up at Penumbra. “Yet curiosity is what will eventually be your father’s undoing. Not unless he can free himself of fear.” “He is not afraid.” Penumbra shook her head. “He is king Sombra! He can’t be afraid.” “That is not what I mean.” “Then what DO you mean?” “I have already told you. Fear is inherently unstable.” “So you mean to tell me you never feel fear? You are a liar, then.” Emeth stared at her. “No. I am a machine. I feel nothing.” Penumbra winced. “I am sorry. I did not intend to be confrontational. I have been having...problems.” “But you make a point. You, like myself, are a machine. One built of flesh and bone, but built and programmed like any golem. Before today, did you ever feel fear?” Penumbra paused, thinking. “No,” she said, much to her surprise. “I never did.” “Then you have in a matter of months done what I have not in thousands of millennia. Congratulations.” “But I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to feel anything. I want to go back to the way I was.” “How ironic, then, that you can.” Emeth cocked his head. “That you would so easily discard something that to me seems so very priceless.” “I have no need for emotion or thought. I am a living weapon. I exist to serve the king and to destroy his enemies.” “I see. If we are both machines, that is where we differ. You have a purpose, while I do not.” “I am sorry. That must be a terrible existence.” “Is it? What would you do if you were free to choose your own fate?” Penumbra lifted her skirt. Although it was a rude gesture, she supposed it was okay for a golem to see. She pointed to her flank. “I have had my cutie mark since before I could remember. Crozea says I got it at my crystalling, whatever that is. Again, in rhyme. My destiny was decided. I have no freedom, nor do I have a need for it.” “The question is hypothetical. Or are you really less creative than a golem?” Penumbra frowned. “If I had no assigned purpose, I would not need to be here. I would go to sleep and not wake up again.” “There is nothing you want out of life?” “No.” An image appeared to Penumbra, and she blushed. It involved a heap of stallions. “I desire only to do as I am ordered, and to serve Sombra.” “Then you are the first pony I have met who understands. I am glad to have met you. I feel...less alone.” Penumbra blinked. “But you said you didn’t need a purpose.” “No. Yet I do not have on. I exist, but derive no desire from life. Like you. Yet I cannot cease to be. I persist, regardless of my surroundings.” Penumbra frowned. That thought made her feel bad, and she was not sure why. “So you are like me.” It occurred to her that she had never met a pony that she could say that about. There was no one like her, not that she knew of. She looked up. “Do you have a creator, that you serve? Like I serve the Eternal King?” “I must have had a creator, at one point. Alas, I do not remember who or even what he or she was. I predate ponies significantly, so it was likely not one of your races. The Nameless One might know, or had known, but she will not speak to me. She speaks to no one.” “That is...sad.” Emeth nodded. “It is. I would truly like to know if my existence has made my creator proud. What they would think of me and how I have evolved. To tell me that the path I chose was correct.” Penumbra nodded, because she understood. She understood exactly. “My conversation is depressing you. I apologize.” Emeth finished his tea. “I am intrigued endlessly by ponies. Now, by you especially.” “Because I am one of them, but like you.” “Because you look like one of them, but never will be.” He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps not.” He stood up. “Wait.” Penumbra looked up at him. “Do you have to go?” “I learned when your species was still young that I do not have to do anything. So no. But why?” “Because...well, I suppose I like talking to you. Is that strange?” “I would not be the one to ask.” “Just a little more time. Please?” Emeth nodded. “As I have said. I am not going anywhere.” Penumbra burst through the access hatch, nearly tripping and falling out of the descending platform as she jumped to the ground. Her wings fluttered, nearly unbalancing her; she still had no idea how to use them. Many golems were waiting in the loading area, and they were watching her even as several started to move onto the loading platforms to go back up and to do whatever it was that they did shortly after being born. Penumbra gave them just about as much notice as they gave her, as she was far more interested on one particular golem than the others. “How are the performance characteristics of the new armor?” Penumbra looked down at herself. She was out of breath from having run. The armor was not all that different in structure from her original metal suit- -which now sat hanging on a nearby rack- -but it was fully-covering and black instead of metallic. Whatever material it was made of was as hard as steel, but flexible and, most importantly, profoundly light. “It works very well. Thank you, Lord Emeth.” Penumbra bowed, and the papers in the back across her back slid out onto the floor. “Oh no! I spilled!” Several tiny golems immediately rushed forward to pick up the mess, as well as one slightly larger one who took Penumbra’s bag. “This particular access hatch exits on the first floor of the castle, behind the secondary kitchens. The library is nearly eight hundred meters, considering how absurdly circuitous the Citadel’s design is. You made good time.” “I would have gone faster if I had not been so silent.” Penumbra lifted the largest roll of paper in her magic. It was very heavy, but she was able to hold it with only minimal shaking. One of the tiny golems had not released it in time and hung from the paper’s edge by its front legs, kicking in the air. “Was there a reason to be silent? Is secrecy truly required to visit the Citadel library?” “Have you ever met Twilight Luciferian? He has a strange fascination with books.” “I have met him. I would say it is more of an obsession.” “Well, he chose the librarians. The beatings they give me could rival Scarlet Mist’s.” She giggled, but then stopped. “Please do not tell her that. It would make her sad.” “I do not think I will. I rarely see the others personally.” Penumbra held up the rolled paper. “You have no idea how hard this was to get! Plus, it’s very late. Far past my bedtime.” “Then you really ought to sleep. You organics need to do that, I am told.” “What is another hour? Besides, it is for my education.” Penumbra began to walk to a side-office, one where in the distant past guards might have stood. Now it was only filled with golems, who piled out as she entered. Inside there was a table. Penumbra set the large sheet of paper on it and tried to unroll it. It then promptly re-rolled, slapping her in the nose. She tried again, and it flicked up on the edge and nearly bounced off the table. Several of golems turned around and held the corners for her. The tiny ones then climbed onto the table and took up stations in the corners “Oh my. They certainly are helpful, aren’t they?” “If they were not, I would not build them,” said Emeth, entering the room. “It is within our nature to be helpful.” He looked down at the paper. On it was a detailed, ink-drawn map. “Crozea showed me this once,” said Penumbra. “She said it was a map of all Equestria.” She fell into a hushed whisper. “It was in the reference section! Those aren’t supposed to leave the library! Can you think of what Lord Twilight would do to me?” “Probably locate the nearest wooden spoon and beat your flank with it.” Penumbra’s wings twitched hard. “N- -never mind,” she said, shuffling herself slightly in her new armor. “You have been all over Equestria, right?” “Yes. But not in a time period that would be considered reasonable to a pony.” “I don’t care about that. I want to know about it. All of it.” “Why?” Penumbra looked up, confused. “I...I don’t know.” “Try to answer. I am curious.” Penumbra thought for a moment. “I have...I suppose I have the impression that the world is BIG. I didn’t always think this. It occurred to me only recently. I used to think that the castle was the whole world. It was to me. But then Lord Twilight talked to the king, and he let me go outside.” “He showed you the kingdom?” Penumbra shook her head. “I am not allowed out of the courtyard, and Crozea or Lady Mist have to be with me.” She paused. “But sometimes I can see the kingdom, if I can find a window. And sometimes I hear other talking, about other empires and distant lands. I want to know what those lands are.” “Our of curiosity.” “Is that wrong?” “Why should a machine be curious?” “I don’t know. But we both are, aren’t we?” Emeth paused. “True.” He looked down at the map. “Yes. I have wandered all of Equestria in my lifetime. This map represents sixty percent of what I know, and what I know is not all of it. But it will be adequate.” He pointed at a tiny demarcation near the top of the map. “This is the Crystal Empire.” “That half?” “No. That point.” Penumbra leaned over and stared at the area in disbelief. “But it’s so small!” “Our Empire is not large.” “But...” Penumbra winced. To her, the whole of the kingdom had been unfathomably large- -and now she came to know that the world beyond it was so much larger. She had never imagined there could be so much of it. She had begun to grow dizzy. “Our nearest neighbor is here.” Emeth pointed. “The Yak’s Republic of YakYakistan.” One of his eyes suddenly shifted, turning independently of the other. The pupil narrowed and mechanisms behind it began to whir rapidly. A sickly light came from within the eye, and it narrowed and condensed into shapes. Penumbra was only surprised by this in that she had not been aware that Emeth could use magic; holograms were nothing new to her. She put her front legs on the table and leaned close to the image. It was a perfect representation in miniature of a snowy landscape, in which a number of hairy, horned creatures were standing buried up to their necks amongst buildings made out of snow. They appeared to be shouting at one another. “What are they doing?” “It is the Yak’s Republic. They are arguing over which yak that is. This memory was recorded seventy-two years ago, when I first came to the Crystal Empire since your father had come to rule it.” The image of yelling yaks faded, and Emeth pointed to the northern area. “Beyond us is nothing but Hyperborea. Nothing lives there. Not anymore.” “Why not?” “It is far colder there than it is here. Too cold for any modern sort of life to have any hope of survival.” “But you have been there.” “I am not alive. Cold has no effect on me.” “But it’s so big.” Penumbra looked out at the blank area of the map, labeled only with the name of the land. It was empty and vast. “Why do I have an urge to conquer it?” “Because you are your father’s daughter. Perhaps you will, one day. But there is nothing out there.” Emeth paused. “Although...” Penumbra perked up. “Although what?” “I once came across an inexplicable jungle, far in the regions beyond where any pony has gone before.” Penumbra gasped. “What was in there?” “I do not know. I did not enter. It was guarded by a powerful spell and strange monsters. And...” He paused, thinking. “There was something else. Something evil. Something I can almost remember.” He turned sharply to Penumbra. “If you do conquer the north, do not approach that place. It is not meant for the living, and it must never be disturbed. I cannot remember why.” Penumbra gulped. “Y- -yes, Lord Emeth. I will commit it to memory.” She pointed to somewhere else on the map, hopefully one less threatening than the lethal north. “What about this one?” “The continent of Zebafrica. Home of the zebras.” “Zebras...” Penumbra frowned. “Like Crozea? You mean that is where she is from?” Penumbra looked at the map more closely. “But it’s so far.” The thought made her sad. Crozea was so very far from her home. “Yes. Here.” Emeth focused a new hologram. This one resolved into a seemingly endless grassland dotted with strange trees. Standing amongst the grass were creatures that looked like ponies but were not. Their coats were striped with black and white, and they were adorned with both gold and scarves and cloaks of brightly colored cloth. They smiled and spoke to each other, and small children ran among their legs, occasionally vanishing into the tall grass. Penumbra gasped. “Is that what she looks like?” She began to giggle, even though she knew it was rude. “Is she really so...stripey?” “I would assume so, though only Sombra sees her with her clothes off.” “Wait, what?” “This memory was recorded two hundred and twelve years ago. I am told civilization has not much changed there. The zebras value their connection with nature, and their old traditions. They were wary of me, but they are usually quite kind to ponies.” “Scarlet Mist told me that zebra’s are a kind of striped donkey.” “They are different species, actually, as are lesser ponies and unicorns. Donkeys are from here.” He pointed to an area not too far from Zebrafica. “They hail from Assyria.” The hologram changed. Now it showed a beautiful port city bathed in sunlight. Vendors walked through the sandy streets with fruit and vegetables from far-flung lands, and donkeys walked through the streets in strange and marvelous garb. They looked like ponies, save for their long ears. In a few places, though, ponies in very different clothing could be seen, including some who wore both their manes and beards long and braided. “This was two thousand and six years ago. Their civilization has grown far more prosperous. I hear mules are now permitted to serve in parliament as well.” “And what about those big ponies there!” Penumbra leaned over the map. “Why are they so big and why do I want to put them in a pile and lay on them?” “Early explorers from the Mighty Helm. Their sea-trade made Assyria prosperous.” The hologram changed as Emeth pointed at a small, rocky island. It showed a civilization of enormous stallions and mares, all muscular and beautiful. It took everything Penumbra had to control her wings. “I want to shave them all,” she whispered. “A normal response.” “Really?” “No. Not at all.” Emeth moved his hoof in a triangle over the map. “The earth-ponies of the Mighty Helm, the Pegasi of Lyskymm, and the Classical unicorns of Canterlot were formerly at continuous war. They have recently unified into the kingdom of Equestria Proper.” Two new holograms appeared. One in the high mountains showed sleek, armored ponies with wings. Ponies that walked on clouds and much unlike Penumbra were able to fly. One of them was orange with a blue mane. Penumbra did not like that one. What drew her attention the most, though, was the image of Canterlot. She could read the topographical notation of the map, and it seemed that the city itself was somehow built on the side of a sheer cliff overlooking a vast and beautiful forest. Everything in the image was glamorous and beautiful. The streets and buildings seemed to sparkle, and the unicorns that walked the streets were clad in jewels and clothing of every make and color. Their coats almost seemed to glow, and many of them spoke and gestured toward instruments and charts in frantic debate. Behind them loomed great airships and a horizon dotted with observatories and strange towers. “Unicorns...” She leaned in close. “It looks amazing!” “This image was from over one thousand years ago. Even then, their civilization was advanced. It remains the same, even though their princess has been deposed.” Penumbra recalled the steward. “By my father?” “No. By somepony else.” Penumbra stared at the memory for a few more seconds, in awe. “They look like Lord Twilight.” “Twilight Luciferian is a pureblood unicorn. His ancestors are from Canterlot. Necrophilo is not a pureblood, but was supposedly a powerful mage engaged in research before the Celestial reform.” “I wish I could go there.” “One day you might. As a conqueror. Or a liberator, depending on your perception of yourself.” “Did my father come from there too?” “No.” The hologram separated and spread. “There are three subspecies of unicorn. Classical, from Canterlot; Eastern, with curved horns, and the Dark Unicorns, which you are a direct descendant of.” Emeth pointed at an area in the dark mountains far to the west of Canterlot. The image was dim, as if night had fallen, and Penumbra could see great fortresses built of strange black stone atop endless rocky crags. Beneath them and through the streets walked two sorts of pony. One was the most beautiful of ponies Penumbra had yet seen: unicorns with dark gray coats and long, flowing black manes. The mares and stallions were large and perfect, looking close enough to Sombra to be his siblings. Perhaps they were. The other type was similar in color, but smaller. They had fangs and slitted eyes, and the wings on their backs were those of bats. They followed the unicorns, carrying loads and dressed in tack, often pulled by thin silver chains. “I am one of them.” Penumbra tugged at her mane. She had recently become aware that it was only the correct color because the crystal nurses that maintained her dyed it that way. The actual color- -or colors- -was grotesque and unpleasant. “You are born to the last of their kind. I was last in their kingdom one thousand years ago, and it was falling to ruin. The land had fallen into decline long before that.” “Why?” Emeth looked Penumbra in the eyes and let his holograms fade. “Because the world moves on.” He looked down at the map and, despite being a machine, suddenly seemed so very somber. “I have witnessed the rise and fall of countless races of ponies, and other creatures as well. Their inception, birth, genesis or creation. I existed before the Twin Goddesses carved their empire from the lands of the Three Races.” More holograms appeared over the map. Numerous memories of what had once been: of empires of Zebras long since crumbled, of the curved-horned Eastern unicorns doomed to a path of extinction, of bison, yaks, donkeys, griffons, kirians; even of dragons, where a thin fellow with tiny wings held aloft a scepter with an enormous red ruby embedded on its top. Delineations formed, chafing as they had long ago. Of a dark empire to the south, ruled by strange and hideous black insects, the lands of the Crystal Emprire, and of a new Empire spreading fast across the lands. An empire represented by an old, faded memory of two fillies with both horns and wings. “How old are you?” said Penumbra, watching the map. “If it is not too impolite for me to ask.” Emeth sighed. “I have wandered what you call Equestria for three million years. I have existed for longer, but my memory is finite. Every minute I live replaces one I had once lived. I have forgotten the face of my creators.” “But you have all these memories.” Penumbra gestured to the holograms. “All these ponies. You saw so many amazing things, and met so many ponies. You must have had so many friends.” “Friends I invariably outlive.” He looked up. “As will you, in time, immortal princess.” Penumbra frowned. She was still to incomplete to realize the horrific curse of her birth. “In all that time,” continued Emeth, “I searched. For three million years, I tried to find another of my kind. Another golem who could think, instead of simply following orders. I was unsuccessful. I have concluded that there are none. That I was the only one created, and am the only one who exists.” “But what about the others?” Penumbra pointed to other golems who were now watching them. “They are me. Drawn from me. But not complete, though we draw near to the final phase.” “Final phase?” Penumbra shivered. Something about that suddenly made Emeth seem so much colder than he had before. The holograms vanished, and a new one appeared. An image of endless cities of concrete and steel, the streets packed with golems that looked almost like ponies. “This is the final phase. What I envision it as, anyway. Your father and I have agreed upon it. Once the generation-seven thrall masks are complete, and the threats to our borders eliminated.” “I don’t understand.” “I will create a new civilization. One of the golems like me. Better than me. Able to think, to learn, to grow. We shall assume all production functions within the Crystal Empire. We shall be its citizens.” “But the crystal ponies- -” “Will no longer need to expend their limited lives farming or working endlessly in the mines. Golems can do those things faster and better. Rather, they will be interfaced permanently to the fear acquisition system. We will maintain their physical needs. And in return, their fear will feed Sombra for all eternity.” Penumbra took a step back. “You can’t- -that isn’t- -” “Do you dislike our plan?” “I- -no- -I- -” Penumbra groaned. “My apologies, Lord Emeth,” she sighed. “I have been having some trouble recently. It was simply a shock. If it truly is Lord Sombra’s will, then it is just and correct, and I support it with every ounce of my heart.” She paused, then looked up. “But what will become of me?” “Most likely, you will not survive the final confrontation with Celestia and Nightmare Moon. No place in this society exists for you because you will never live to see it.” “Oh.” Penumbra forced a smile. “Of course. I understand.” “My apologies. I have digressed from your original request. I am highly passionate about creating my own race. I think it will lead to a more peaceful, orderly world. But I can show you more of the map, and I have many stories. You seemed intrigued by Dragon Lord Scorch.” “If I may have my say,” said a stern voice from the edge of the room, “that will have to wait for another day.” “EEP!” Penumbra jumped and nearly fell off balance. She rotated swiftly to see Crozea standing in the doorway. “Your reaction shows you know you’ve done wrong. Are you aware that the night is growing long?” “Lady Crozea!” Penumbra stood and bowed. “My apologies! I did not intend- -” “I have been searching for over an hour! Do you know how long this castle takes to scour?!” “That’s about how long it took her to ask me,” whispered Eternity. “She had to do it in rhyme. It took forever!” “You know I can still hear. Unlike you, I still have an ear.” “I WILL EAT YOUR BABIES! Also, your brew is almost done...brewing. Probably want to check it. Throw in a maiden or two, I don’t think it’s spicy enough yet!” Crozea sighed. “Emeth, I know that your time is not cheap, but the young princess requires her nightly sleep.” “Of course, Crozea. I suppose I got wrapped up in having a visitor to discuss various matters with.” He bowed to Penumbra. “Please go along. You can stop by at any time. Perhaps next time I can show you how I make the golems?” Penumbra smiled, and then bowed. “Thank you, Lord Emeth. I certainly will, as you are my friend now. Next time I will send a messenger, though, as is protocol.” She turned and went with Crozea. She looked up. “Is it true my father has seen you naked?” Crozea recoiled. “Emeth, you churl! What have you told this girl?!” “Only the truth. I am a golem. I do not have the capacity to make moral judgments.” He paused. “That, and to imply that you are the closest thing she has to a mother. Please be more careful with her.” Crozea grumbled and pushed Penumbra through the door. The golems parted to allow her through, and the lights went out as they left. The only light that came was the sickly yellow glow of Emeth’s pupils Penumbra walked in silence. She was confused. Something about Emeth’s plan made her feel bad. She did not understand why, since both he and herself were machines, and he seemed to be genuinely happy about it. Yet, as hard as she tried to understand, something still bothered her deeply. “Crozea?” she asked. “What you wish to say can wait until morn, after you have laid down your head and rested your horn.” Penumbra nodded. “Yes, Lady Crozea. Of course.”