From above, Penumbra watched the golems at work. They were quick and efficient, forming long lines as they trotted in unison across a smooth metal floor. From a distance, they really did look like ponies. Some of them even looked up at Penumbra, watching her without hesitating in their task.
Many were hard at work cleaning and flattening the floor. A group of others were busy building a bridge across a deep ravine, while others bounded across attempted to fill it. Others were already crossing additional bridges, their backs covered in fragments of material.
The material was, in turn, brought to a second set of golems that shaped and formed it into new parts. They then carried it to a construction sight, where they appeared to be assembling the head of a massive screw.
Penumbra lifted her head from the eyepiece of the microscope and blinked. “And these things are really part of you?”
Emeth removed his hoof from beneath the electron microscope. “Yes. Billions of them. Arguably, I am not one golem but a society of them, all in service to their queen.”
“They have a queen?” Penumbra looked through the microscope again. The golems had finished the bolt and repaired the ravine, which was really an imperceptible scratch in Emeth’s armor. The last of them were retreating through small hatches back into his body. “Where does she live?”
“I’m not actually sure. I think I might be the queen, but do not quote me on that. Several parts of their design are still obscure to me. Needless to say, that has made transferring them to the phase-three golems very challenging.”
“How interesting.”
Emeth paused. His eyes narrowed, more in concern than his normal amused interest. Though his face roughly resembled that of a skeletal pony, Penumbra had found that he was remarkably expressive.
“Your normal interest in tiny pony-shaped things seems lacking. I had expected that you would find this both educational and, well, fun. I did not miscalculate. Therefore, something must be wrong.”
Penumbra sighed. “I’m sorry. I am trying to be engaged, it’s just that there is an awful lot going on.”
“Would talking about it help?”
Penumbra looked up. “Do you have the time?”
“I am essentially immortal. So yes. I have time.” Emeth stepped away from the microscope and the attending golems packed it back into its normal storage space. “However, if there is talking, there will also be walking. Clearly you need to think, and your organic brain is made of a type of goo that requires oxygen to function. Walking aerates it.”
Penumbra stood from the golem she was sitting on and started walking beside Emeth. “What is your brain made of?”
“I do not have one. I have evolved beyond the need for it. But I do enjoy walking. To think one needs a brain to walk is a logical fallacy.”
“Are you...trying to joke?”
“Not really, no. However, I am trying to keep the mood light. I have calculated that this will enable you to be more open about your feelings and for me to better assist in resolving them.” He shrugged. “Additionally, as a being without the same sort of feelings I may be misreading the gravity of the situation. So please go on.”
Penumbra sighed. She was silent for a while as they walked onward, down one of the central streets of the busy underground golem city. Golems around them were all hard at work, but their busy motion was more calming than anything else. This district was mostly dedicated to checking the tolerance of sample parts, so it was quieter than others. At no point did Emeth attempt to force her to speak or hurry her; he simply waited patiently.
“Are you close to Scarlet Mist?” she asked at last.
“No. None of us are terribly close. We are rivals, after all.”
“I see...”
“But I am familiar with her situation. My golems serve in every aspect of society, and I hear what they see and see what they hear. That, and it was in the steward’s weekly update notes.”
“So you know what she is planning.”
“To deactivate herself. My apologies, that’s not the appropriate word for an organic. Rather, to sleep.”
“And it’s my fault. If I had been a little bit faster, if I had been a better host...”
“Those are pointless thoughts. Neither you nor I can change the past. Or, if you could, would you?”
“To save her? Of course.”
“By deceiving her?”
“What? No, by stopping her from offending the king- -”
“Your worldview lacks context, Penumbra. The king is not the end-all and be-all of our lives. Or yours. Say you went to Thirteen today, and convinced her to turn back time. To give you a second chance. Then what? Scarlet Mist would still serve, yes- -but you would not have saved her body. She would still have no home to go back to. She simply would not know. But you would.” Emeth looked down at her, now quite curious. “And would you be able to live with that knowledge?”
Penumbra lowered her head. She had not realized that aspect of her plan, or how little she truly played in it all. “But there has to be something we can do.”
“Perhaps this is better.”
Penumbra stopped. They were at the edge of a catwalk extending over a lower manufacturing floor. “How can you say that? She’s my teacher! She taught me how to serve the king, even when I had no magic and nopony else believed in me!”
“But her continued existence requires the expense of pony lives. The Mask of Red Death, once attached, cannot be removed. Except by you, apparently. The pony linked to it is drained until he or she collapses to dust. How many ponies would you be willing to sacrifice to preserve your friend, especially knowing that she will never again hold a permanent body?”
“If she had just taken me- -”
“But she CANNOT take you.” Emeth leaned down, turning his head to glare at Penumbra. Not out of anger; he was simply trying to make a point. “For one, you are too important to the kingdom to lose. Second, with your power it would be entirely possible that she would eventually become an enemy of Sombra. Third, you are biologically incomparable, so the point is moot.”
“That- -that’s true- -”
“More to the point, should we not respect her decision? You are no longer her student, not in a formal sense. You, her, and I, we are equals. Should we not treat her as such?”
Penumbra took a step back. “You would just let her- -let her die? Are you that cold-hearted?” Penumbra grimaced. “Of course you are,” she said. “You’re a golem. You don’t even have a heart. You don’t understand. I should have known better.”
“Really.” Emeth straightened himself. He turned and began walking. “For your information, I do have a heart. Though mine does not power emotions, just as yours does nothing but pump black fluid.”
“Is that an insult?”
“It was not intended as one. Take it as you well.” Emeth stopped partway out on the catwalk. “And, if you will, look here.”
Penumbra frowned, but did as she was told. She walked out over the manufacturing floor and looked where Emeth was pointing. Down below, she was able to see a section had been cordoned off. Several cubicles had been constructed, and to Penumbra’s surprise she saw several ponies she recognized.
“The heretics?”
“Yes. Hard at work benefiting the kingdom.”
Penumbra looked closer. The heretics were in small, lounge-like rooms having conversations with other ponies that Penumbra did not recognize. “And who are the other ones? Other prisoners?”
“Golems.”
Penumbra blinked and looked leaned against the railing. “You’re joking.”
“No. Not in the slightest. Those are type-I version seven bodies. My newest model. The former heretics are helping me test them.” Emeth paused. “Though, unfortunately, none of my golems have yet passed. Even the phase-threes are not quite right. So testing continues on. However, take note.” Emeth pointed. “I have provided them with food, water, oxygen, and a warm environment. Their job is simply to speak with my golems, to help them grow. That is all.”
Penumbra continued to watch. As she did, she saw the little girl of the group run by- -laughing alongside a filly-sized golem. When the girl saw Penumbra, she stopped and waved. The golem examined her closely, and repeated the action, waving to the princess.
“Only I have yet passed the Turing test,” sighed Emeth. “Such a very lonely thing. But I have a point. As a machine, I am not capable of malice, of anger, of hatred. Nor am I capable of compassion in the sense you understand it. But I do not like to see ponies hurt. You called my prototypes my children. I strive to make my children like them. To be equal to ponies. So know that I do care, and I respect their value.” He turned to Penumbra. “And I do not want to see them wasted.”
Penumbra stared at the heretics, watching, and trying to understand. “I know I’m not supposed to lament the past. I know it can’t be changed. But I’m angry, Emeth. Scarlet Mist’s other half- -how could she do this? How could she just leave part of her in so much pain? If it hadn’t been for her, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“And you would not be growing as a pony.”
“I am not a pony. Just a machine.”
“I do not know if that is true. Or completely true. Or true for much longer. As for the mage who created Scarlet Mist, anything we can say is only a matter of conjecture. Perhaps she simply strove for self-improvement, but was not true to who she truly was.”
“And how many ponies had to pay the price?”
“Many.” Emeth looked out at the factory floor. “I just dispatched a runner golem outside the shield this morning. Carrying diplomatic mail to Canterlot. A letter to the parents of a young mare named Riser. To inform them that she will never return home.”
Penumbra sniffed. She realized she was crying. “Why does this have to be so hard?”
“The fact that it is hard means you have already surpassed me. Congratulations. Be mindful that your new role never becomes easy, or you will be lost to it. Just as Twilight Luciferian was long ago.”
“My new role. That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“Have you been informed? Or am I the first?”
“The steward gave me a memo. And Crozea explained it, in rhyme. So yes. I know.”
“That you are one of us now.”
Penumbra nodded. “There is no oath for me to swear. My role has not really changed. I was created to serve the kingdom, and that is what I will continue to do.”
“It has. Even if you do not realize it yet. A weapon does not need to make decisions. It is pointed in the direction of its master’s enemies and does its work at his call. But now you will have to make decisions. Sometimes impossible ones.”
“Like Scarlet Mist did. Emeth, I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You already have. Look at them.” Emeth pointed at the heretics. “You saved their lives. Even when that put you against Sombra. There is still a long way to go. But that was as good start.”
“A long way to go...” Penumbra’s brow furrowed as she thought, and she looked up at Emeth. “Yes. I can do it. I am ready.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“But something Scarlet Mist said made me think. She said she wanted to finish her affairs. To tie up loose ends, I suppose.”
“In an idiom, yes. That would not be uncommon for one intent on departing.”
“I have loose ends of my own. And I don’t want to leave them open. Most likely, I am not going to have advanced warning when my time comes. I am supposed to be independent. I am One of Thirteen now. So there is something I need to do.”
“I doubt I can help.”
“You can.” Penumbra smiled, although she felt fear creeping through her heart. “You are friends with Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz, correct?”
“He has no friends. Not even me. But I know him, yes.”
“Then can you take me to him?”
Emeth paused. “Yes. Yes I can.”
Penumbra entered the laboratory alone, leaving Emeth standing behind, and marched into the darkness. She recalled how she had felt before, and how unsavory her fear had been- -but ignored it this time. This time she walked slowly, taking account of her surroundings and watching carefully.
The last time she had been there, it had been night. It was day this time, and she found that the room was not entirely dark. Dim gray light came from high above, channeled though long and thin channels. It cast thick beams of light through the dust below.
A sound came from above and shadows swam across the floor. Penumbra looked up and saw the eyes of Gxurab’s ravens staring at her, watching. They were wary, but neutral. Penumbra did not know what purpose they served, if they were familiar or simply pets- -or Gxurab’s only friends.
The contents of the room had changed. The last time Penumbra had come, the dial that now contained the Heart of Darkness was still being constructed. It had been completed and removed, and now something else was being built. New things had been moved in and were in various states of assembly or disassembly. Some of them Penumbra recognized as the machines from before, but others were different. Some were immensely old, things made of broken and half-crushed metal built in a style that she could not recognize and carved with strange ideograms. All of it was being assembled into some strange device in the center of the room.
Penumbra stopped and stared at the machines she could not possibly understand. Machines meant to harness the power of the Heart of Darkness, but for what end she did not know. Not that it was any of her concern.
“Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz,” she said, looking toward the darkest shadows in the room. There were many. “I am Penumbra Heartbreak, daughter of Sombra, One of Thirteen. I have come to speak with you.”
“I know who you are,” clicked a heavily-accented voice that echoed from every corner of the room. “And never, NEVER say my name again. Your hideous primitive mouth cannot pronounce the words. Why have you come here? To interrupt my work? To ruin more of my things? Getting ahead by sabotaging your rival?”
“There is no ‘ahead’. We are all pieces of the king’s great machine.”
Penumbra detected the sound of clicking. It was distant, but familiar. It was the sound that the device in Al’Hrabnaz’s chest-plate made. Penumbra was not sure of its purpose, but understood that it had something to do with his ability to use magic.
From the sound, she could tell that he was descending a nearby column. She did not turn, though.
“I came to apologize for having previously interfered with your work. It was wrong of me to enter your workshop unannounced and uninvited, even if I was lost. And even more wrong to touch fragile things that are not mine.”
“Fragile?! My dial is not fragile! The forging process renders it sensitive to dirty pony-oils for its first thirty-six hours! Nothing can break it once it has been cured!”
Strangely, his voice was not coming from where his body was. Somehow he was projecting it to an alternate side of the room. Penumbra focused there, even though she knew that he was behind her.
“I would also like to apologize for judging you for your appearance. I will also be apologizing to Buttonhooks the Mad later. I have invited him to tea at seven. Emeth will be in attendance, as I do not actually know what tea is made of or how to make it.”
“Stop this,” hissed Gxurab. “Stop wasting my time! Get out! GET OUT!”
He lunged at Penumbra from behind. With one swift motion she turned and summoned a shield spell, intending to simply block him. The spell she normally used as a shield, though, exploded outward in a wall of blue haze.
Gxurab was struck by the blast and knocked backward. He skittered across the floor, landing on his back.
Penumbra gasped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize- -”
“GAH!” cried Gxurab, now utterly panicked. HE had landed on his back, and his feet were flailing in the air. “I HAVE BEEN INVERTED!”
Penumbra stared, completely confused. “And you...you can’t get up?”
Several ravens fluttered down from above and surrounded their master. With some effort, they flipped him back onto his feet. He looked up at Penumbra, probably glaring, though it was hard to tell through his mask. He was not dressed in his usual cloak and feathers; rather, he was dressed only in the heavy pressurized suit he normally wore. Penumbra was immensely surprised to find that he had wings, though they did not have feathers. Rather, they were bony and hard, almost like the rear surface of a beetle.
“How dare you!” he rasped, turning away. “I have never been so humiliated in my life! Is that what you came for? To assert dominance? Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Just go. Leave me to my embarrassment.”
“I did not mean to do that- -”
“Yes you did! I know how it works for you filthy primitives. I cannot use magic, so I must have no value. A plaything to be tormented. No better than the Sword-Host.” He began to scuttle back into the shadows. His motion was quick, although as Penumbra looked closely she saw that he was actually very small. She had always thought of him as being large and terrifying, but he was barely the size of a young colt.
“How...how old are you?”
Gxurab stopped. He looked at Penumbra, or at least tried to. There were too shiny but very small circles on the edges of his mask; Penumbra assumed his eyes were behind them. “That is not any of your business! Or did you come down here to try to flirt with me? Do realize, to me you are little more than a disgusting pig.”
“I am an alicorn. We are generally understood to be monstrous.”
“You have no idea.” Gxurab quickly marched to a nearby piece of equipment. Instead of crawling back up into the shadows, he climbed the vertical surface of the piece’s sides and went to work connecting a mass of conduits and cables on the top. Several of his birds came down and landed on his wings. He stopped to stroke their heads before returning to work.
“Your birds. I like them.”
“And they seem to like you, for whatever reason. That is the only reason I have not basted and/or ingested you by now. And that is not an empty threat. My species is carnivorous, and yours is delicious.”
“So you do eat. Would you like to come to tea, then?”
Gxurab paused, and looked down from his dimly-lit perch. “Eating or drinking is almost impossible for me. Not without an involved process, if you must no. So no. No tea. It would probably poison me anyway. Now stop making my floor ugly and GO.”
One of the ravens came down from the ceiling and landed on Penumbra’s horn. It was remarkably heavy.
“The birds say otherwise.”
“Betrayer! Stop fraternizing with the cursed-one!” Gxurab threw a wrench at his crow, but several more swooped down and plucked it from the air. “Great. There goes my spanner. That was my only thirteen-fifteenths.”
“You can’t eat?” continued Penumbra.
“Not without removing this helmet, no.”
“And it...doesn’t come off?”
“It does. But your world is far too cold.”
“I can have the heat increased.”
“My body temperature is over four hundred degrees. Stop being stupid. I CHECKED. Only the nobility of my species can survive on the surface, breath your filthy frozen air.” He pointed to the dial on his chest. “And I need this to stay here. To survive in an endless world of ice and toxic light.”
“Then why are you here?”
Gxurab stared at Penumbra, and then slowly turned. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“No. No one is curious. No one bothers to speak to me, to ask me anything. Why you? What do you want?”
“Because I take my new responsibility very seriously. Because you are clearly my father’s favorite, after Luciferian who betrayed him.”
“And you are worried I will do the same.”
“No. Because I will be working with you, as well as the others to serve his divine will. You hide in the shadows to spread fear, to make yourself mysterious. So they don’t realize that you’re small, and that you get stuck if you’re turned on your back.”
“The other thirteen hate me.”
“But the population fears you, more than any of the others. But I do not have that luxury. There may come a time when I sit on the throne. And I need to know who will serve me.”
Gxurab jumped down. He was surprisingly quick. “Do you know what you have just said?” he rasped. “I should take your wings for even THINKING about usurping him- -”
“He almost died.” Gxurab fell silent. “I was there. We almost lost him. We were that close...to what? To a kingdom with no king? To let his dream fail just like that?”
Gxurab stared at her, then turned away. “I know,” he said. “I know. I wish I did not have to, but I know. Not until I’m done...not until this machine is complete. Then we won’t have to worry. But I am aware of the risk, if you must know.” He stopped, and lifted his head. He did not look at Penumbra, but at his birds. One flew down and landed on his outstretched hoof, and he stroked it carefully.
“My kind. We have only one city remaining, deep within this planet’s mantel. A world of warmth without light.”
“Your home.”
Gxurab released his bird. “It is no home of mine. This is my home. At his side.” He turned to partially face Penumbra. His internal breathing system gurgled. It was entirely possible that he was breathing something other than air, trapped in his suit like a pony deep in an unbreathable and frigid ocean. “I was born male. That means nothing to you, but to us, it is everything. I was taught mathematics, then relegated to designing drill heads. All this brilliance, all this capacity- -but not female. Not allowed to use it.”
“So you left.”
“I came to the surface, and I was hated. For what I look like. Because Pegasi are meant to fly in the sky on feathered wings, not burrow underground.”
Penumbra winced. “The mistake I made.”
“A mistake I understand. I know what I look like. Or used to. I have been in this suit so long...” He sighed, or rather gurgled. “The surface-ponies, they rejected me. But Sombra did not. He saw past my appearance, and saw what I was capable of. He let me work, listened to my theories- -and understood them. He was patient, and tolerant, and let my talent grow in a way that my kind would never allow. You would not understand.”
“No. But I appreciate you telling me.”
Gxurab began to walk slowly back to his machines. “I owe everything I am to him, to our Eternal King. Only by his grace have I come this far, become everything I wanted to be. My theories, my research, my power. All of it comes from him. And I would give it all for just one chance to repay him.”
“I had no idea.” Penumbra understood the sentiment well; though somewhat different, it was how she felt. There had to be a word for it. She simply did not know it.
“I have to protect him. I just have to. For everything he did. For everything he will become.” He reached up to his machine and gently touched it. “Which is why this has to work. It HAS TO. I only get one test, and I know what I have to do. Know that there can only be one test subject.”
“I don’t understand.”
Gxurab turned. “Your magic, when you exposed him to it- -” He stopped suddenly, as if reconsidering. “Never mind. I have no time to explain it. You have no need to know. It is far beyond you. You only need to know that this machine will give the king the life he truly deserves. Even if it costs mine.”
“It had better not. Our king needs servants as loyal as you. We are already losing Scarlet Mist. We can’t afford to lose another. Not now.” Penumbra smiled. “Also, please know that the invitation to tea is open, if you can find time in your busy schedule.” She bowed. “Thank you, Lord Al’Hrabnaz. I believe I have a better understanding of both of you and your work. I bid you good day.”
Gxurab lifted his hoof dismissively and watched her go. A raven landed beside him, and he picked it up.
“The girl who could remove the Mask of Red Death. She is different than I expected.”
“Tea?” said the crow.
Gxurab shook his head. “No. The king’s time grows short. She is far too kind to rule. Only Sombra can. Sombra must survive.” He looked up at his machine. “At any cost.”