//------------------------------// // The spy amongst us // Story: The tale of the Spy // by Andy Ray //------------------------------// The chance is mine. I have found another soldier, who is about to be relieved off duty. This is wonderful. He leaves tomorrow. When all are asleep, I get up. Does anypony see me? Just in case one does I had better have an excuse. Maybe, I want to drink something? I start searching for a drink... A fellow soldier wakes up: I have disturbed him. "Hey, -- he whispers, -- what's up?" I answer, that I am thirsty. He chuckles quietly: "Dude, you should have prepared a spare bottle of water. Here, take mine". He gives me his. I thank him, but mention, I might want to relieve myself. I gulp the liquid down. Satisfying! I return the bottle and go search for the restroom. I ask of my guide: "Where is the restroom here?" He navigates me. But I am not here for the restroom -- I must find that fellow soon to leave. "Do you know where..." -- I ask where he is. "Yes, I happen to know", -- he answers. He doesn't wonder, why I'm asking. Nor does he wonder what about the restroom quest. I love my cloaking wristlet! After some time I have reached his sleeping chamber. I open the door... then close, leaving it only a creak open: a soldier is awake late at night and walks into somepony else's sleeping chamber -- that's suspicious. So I find a turn, walk until it, then take it and leave the sight of whoever might be watching me go. If someone were to expect me to appear from-around the corner... he wouldn't notice anypony: I am cloaked now! I return to the still open door, open it more widely, very carefully, as if a wind had blown. I step inside sneakily. I search for the needed soldier. "This is the one", -- whispers my guide to me. Temporary invisibility on, disguise managed manually... I take the wristlet off... then put it on my victim's hoof... copy his external parameters: look, feel, voice, smell... The new disguise is ready. It is safe to put it on. I was a spy long before I received the cloaking wristlet. Of course I could not cloak myself. But that wouldn't be necessary. My folks and I are all Hunters, and we've never chosen ourselves to be this way. We Hunt the prey, and it fears us, avoids us, chases us away -- it downright hates us. We understand. And are prepared. We are naturally capable of one feature: we can turn one's memory back, revert it to the state it was some time ago -- and then cut, figuratively speaking, anything more recent off! This ability has been kept a secret from the prey, lest it research it and invent means to fight it. Life is difficult as it is... though it is in no way a struggle. The weak die not because they can't have stood the strong. They just invent new ways to cope. And if they can't -- then they die. We -- we are not weak. But our strength isn't enough. So we cope. It is difficult. So what? The difficulty level is normal. May it never be set any higher! For now I needn't complain. No one can yet fight my ability to erase memory. I wouldn't have become a good spy, if I hadn't this ability! For a good spy must leave no evidence as to that he's been there. How do I do it? You may not know: if you watch this, you will lose your memory and will not remember anything. It'll be for you as though nothing had happened. So let me tell you about it instead. I cloak out, so my vision be not interfered: when I am invisible, I am practically blind, as if everything were covered in fog. Truly, some echolocation abilities are required to regain the lost sight. Don't think I come with them naturally -- it took me a long while to learn, how to echolocate! But I am the Spy, and they don't call one "the Spy", if it isn't a good spy. And a good spy will learn anything it will take him! So I am visible now. An unclean job, indeed. But what you might see, if you watched, would modify your memory! So listen up, boys and girls! For a quiet room packed with sleeping soldiers would be the last thing you'd remember! However it wouldn't be the last thing in your life: I value life! It would just be your last thing to remember in that short period of time, as I did my thing. For you, however, I'll share what is about to happen next. My eyes glow with green light. I light the room up, turning, to be sure every little nook is covered. Then I extinguish the glow. Now I cloak the sleeping soldier, then suck him up into my wristlet. Then I lie on his bed. Then stir, as if disturbed by something. By now any memory of me must be erased from any potential viewers' minds. The wristlet is back on. I apply the disguise... I am the soldier now. But not the first one I disguised as -- the second one. I have stirred, then I get up. Groggily I go, stumbling, to the restroom. How is it suspicious? Even if you'd watched him from his very birth, you couldn't determine the moment I'd infiltrated. For I am the Spy! A very tired soldier has been sleeping, then he's gotten up and walked to the restroom. Suspicious? Wha-a-at? He will even return to sleep, then he'll act as he's always acted! I am so proud and fascinated with myself right now!.. ...I exit the chamber, then continue to my destination. I turn around that very same corner I cloaked in as the first soldier. I proceed some more... Finally. The restroom. I occupy a cabin. Grasp my disguise and take the wristlet off. Then I release the first soldier -- he's still invisible. The wristlet is on his hoof -- I snap it off. "Oh, sorry, dude, -- I say quietly, as if I'd just stumbled upon an already occupied cabin. -- You should have warned me". His mind is still foggy. No wonder: when he was released, his short-term memory was overwritten with mine. He remembers now everything I have so far seen, touched, eaten, drunk, heard or smelt. Except for when I was acting as a spy. My actions, my intentions must stay opaque to him as well, as to everypony else. It is not an easy task to manage one's memory... but I can do it: I have my wristlet, and, as I've said before, it is magnificent, gentlemen!.. Although the ponies of Equestria wouldn't use "gentleman", it appears: the men of their nation are called stallions, and the women -- mares. Yet another national feature. He blinks, gazing at me. "Are you alright?" -- I ask with concern sympathetically. He only blinks once more and tries to get up. I help him. He tries still to get on track. Finally he says: "I think... I'm... fine. But... you know, -- he leans to me more closely and confesses with a whisper, -- ever since I have plummeted a couple of days ago I have been feeling... -- his face scrunches up slightly, -- you know, as if I had always been asleep. My memory refuses to serve me, -- he complains and lifts his hoof to his temple. -- Everything's such a blur!.." "I understand, -- I say. -- You may want to take a day off, if it helps". "Maybe, I should, -- he mumbles. -- How lucky of you, -- he says suddenly, -- you're leaving tomorrow". "Yeah... -- I utter indefinitely. -- If it were not for General, I might... This is, however, our job, -- I say, spirits lifting. -- Quit, if you want, but we all go through it, so..." A pause. Then: "Someone must watch for spies". I say the last word a bit more accentuated, than I'd want. "So be careful, alright? Don't fret, pal, -- I say, as I pat him, -- everypony gets to leave, isn't it? Some do earlier, than others. Don't be jealous, for somepony's sure to serve here a bit longer, than you-u-u will". He smiles a bit. "Alright, best wishes, mate!" We part our ways. How he'll do from now on, is not my concern. Although... I must admit, I have not done a very good job: he's noticed some gaps in his memory, which means, although he won't remember anything related either to my thoughts or actions, he'll still remember he's forgotten... something. But the others won't confirm me: I've proven to be a good actor, after all. Now I go and relieve myself, as I've made everyone think I will. In the mean time I synchronise with my new guide. I absorb his knowledge and share my perception. I've got to be more clean about what I do: my spy actions are filtered, but gaps must not take their place! And since I can't inject fake memories (as good, as I am, that would make me god-like), I must leave an impression of nothing happening. Finally I return to my bed, still groggily, and fall asleep. "Tomorrow, -- I think to myself, -- I will leave this dangerous place and become one more step closer to my objective. At least I will be inside this country's boundaries. I'll be safer then. Safer, than here..." With these thoughts I fall asleep. The next day goes smoothly: we rise, get in formation, tasks are assigned. And I and a few others are summoned to Commander. He gives his speech. Commends or berates. And finally he releases us. We go pick up our belongings. Give out our uniform. Proceed down to earth and have to wait for the train to arrive. We chat idly. The guys exchange their plans, expectations, dreams. I share what my guide tells me: I'm going to visit my relatives in Poniville, then to head home to Canterlot. I share recollections of my little cousins, and I smile affectionately. It is funny, I think to myself: how would they react, if I "back-stabbed" them, figuratively speaking? Perhaps, their little lives would be ruined: they'd know the world were a place, where spies resided. Aren't they happy? They have no worries and don't see them coming for the rest of their days. The problem-free philosophy. Which doesn't work for me: I have known the world to be very dangerous. Am I not a danger to others? I am. Knowing it fills me with pleasure. It is delicious!.. Too delicious to care. So what, if I have to live in a dangerous world, where they want to strike me first? I am too good a spy to be afraid of it. Cynical of me, is it not? No: leave "cynical" to describe the prey! I am of Hunters, and we are said to have no hearts. Although this view is a bit old-fashioned, is it not? A medic might say, every creature has a heart. But, even if we have, we are said to have no feelings. Well, what does having feelings mean, anyway? I am not a scholar, truthfully. So I am in no position to say. ...But. As I have mentioned this before... The prey can live happily without torturing anyone. But Hunters can't. It is... really painful, to tell the truth. So consider: a Hunter is full of the positive energy. He must have eaten recently. But now he can't: he can't reach any prey. So what happens, if he doesn't find some, before he, without a shade of doubt, dies? Perseverance, determination, curiosity, sensitivity to injustice... Any reason to do something does not appear or disappear magically. As energy it can only be transformed or transferred. Perhaps, if we lost any reason to live... we might stop positivity from transforming into negativity... But it happens naturally: a living being cannot contain positivity, and it will start to leak. When it leaks, it gives everyone determination. It literally charges any creature, it animates it! We, Hunters, are no exception. We spend our positivity passively, everyone of us, and live. As it is spent, it becomes poison. Poison burns. The more poison is in us, the more it burns. The more is our desire to torture. For torturing someone establishes a connection between a Hunter and the prey. For it to be established the prey must be responsive. If it is not, the connection is lost. However it happens rarely: the prey can feel. Their feelings can be appealed -- and can be hurt. They can do so in response to our torturing. So anyone, who has feelings, is responsive. All we have to do is to receive the response we need. Once we find that kind of response -- we send over a stream of poison we've collected. In response we receive the positive energy. The prey suffers, and its positivity becomes negativity. It feels unhappy. While a Hunter finds pleasure, and his poison becomes -- first negativity, as the poison goes to the prey, then -- positivity, as it is transferred from the sufferer. Layman Hunters distinguish rarely between negativity and poison, calling both "the negative energy". It feels great to feed! But what, if a source of the Energy is not found or is not suitable? Then a Hunter's positivity gives way to poison, and poison in its turn becomes negativity. Then he feels hunger for positivity. Misery encompasses him. He will contain it, feel it and suffer it for as long, as he can... but then comes the time, when his durability... his capacity to endure unpleasantness... it all comes to an end... and then... It is as though he were set on fire: his entire body burns... If he gains any positivity, while he's not burnt completely... then he is saved! If not, however... ...It pains me to think of it... But it is the point of no return, where revival is not possible any more... Only his core is left -- the very culmination of his being. Even after his death it emanates his pain. As any kind of energy it doesn't go away, nor does it fade out with time. Transformation or transferral. No exceptions. Hunters are not immortal. We age, we die. But, when the time comes, other Hunters will come and try to fill the dying one with positivity. The least amount of pain is emanated from their core then. We must not die of energetic hunger. So positivity must be up. We are fully in control of its levels. It means, we can control our emotional responses, unlike the prey. They say, we have no hearts. That's not true. It is only that emotions don't occur in us naturally. I think, we imitate emotions... no, that's not true. When we want, we feel deeply. They are all artificial?.. Maybe... Maybe. Artificial -- and fully controlled by us. I can feel anything, be that pleasant or not! So can other Hunters! I think, it is great!.. ...Perhaps, I must have faded out: I've forgotten where I am. The guys are already up on their hooves, ready to set out. I stand up, feeling embarrassed. We all give our good-byes. We're all welcome back. A short speech is given to rekindle the feeling of being in demand of the great country of Equestria! It brings tears to the faces of many! "Sir, -- I step forward, -- as long, as I am alive, I will never betray my Homeland! Even away from its borders I will think constantly of the threats, which lurk out there!" I step more closely to the officers, upon whom it is yet to patrol the frontier: "I can only believe you will do well without us! Beware of spies! For they fool even a good eye!" I put my hoof firmly upon an officer's shoulder. His face doesn't change. But my mates applaud. "Don't worry, -- the officer says rather roughly, -- come a spy -- and we summon you all with no exception! So you'd better pray to Celestia one didn't!" He pauses for a while, but then asks me: "Do you want to extend your service?!" "The thought frightens me, sir, -- I answer, trying not to show I'm concerned. -- Is there a spy here? For I will gladly stay to greet him!" My enthusiasm, however, finds no support from the officer. He only snorts and answers nothing. I salute: "Permission to leave, sir!" We are all dismissed. The train's wheels clatter rhythmically. Ta-duh-ta-dun, ta-duh-ta-dun -- it goes. We are bored. The guys have found peace in various activities: some are reading, some are playing games, some are just watching through the window... I am sitting quietly and reminiscing... Who made me make that remark? About spies? I have been mentioning spies as of lately. What could it mean?.. Am I snide to them? Derisive? It might be: isn't it ironic, when a spy, unrecognised, warns of spies, possibly lurking around, don't you think? Anyway, regardless of that, perhaps, I may want to find a new guise. It will be a lot easier, since security is not at its best here: they fend off any danger from beyond, and here they have to fear nothing... Well, they do. It's me. The Spy. But they're not probably watching me right now. Still... When the train comes closer to its next stop, I have an urge to relieve myself. Once again. So far it's worked. Why won't it now? When inside the cabin, I lock the door... take off my wristlet... and release my guide. I return the device back on and cloak in, while no one is seeing. Now I must lie low: he must not bump into me, when he comes to his senses. I disguise myself as a spider. A very big one. And heavy. I think I'm terrifying... that is, I should be, if I were not invisible. Why a spider? Well, they can weave a web. It's sticky. It's something that fascinates me about spiders. Also... they're hunters... just like us. Although they ensnare their prey unlike us... They wait passively for the prey to go straight into the web... It is taught in our schools, that Hunters can be divided into "active" -- those, who initiate the energy conversion, like me -- and "passive" -- those, who don't and respond to the prey's energy vibes. Naturally every Hunter seeks positivity, so "passive" Hunters want to catch some positive vibes from the prey. Such a vibe must be directed at a Hunter, or it shan't be caught. Of course the prey can't direct such vibes -- at least intentionally. So the "passive" ones try to evoke certain emotions from the prey. Such are their ways. It is the same way, as in our case: a connection must be established to transfer energy. There're always one responding and one transmitting -- both emotionally. The "passive" ones respond, sucking in the good vibes; the "active" ones transmit, giving off the bad ones; while the unsuspecting prey does both: respond and transmit any vibes. It may seem, as though we could be "commensal" -- the "active" and the "passive" Hunters: why couldn't we feed each other? Well, hasn't it been said, that Hunters can't generate positivity? They can only obtain it from the others. So sharing isn't really an option: the Energy would just be spent to life, and we'd all go hungry... So... So the prey must help. If it gives its positivity to us... but only those "passive" depend on the prey giving it out: we, "active", can take it ourselves! This is why I despise spiders: they can't take their prey for themselves -- they must wait, until it goes into their webs itself, out of its own volition. The "passive" Hunters can't get food the same way we can, and they couldn't share what they would have, with us. While we -- we can: because we're "active"! For this reason the "passive" ones feel themselves, as though they're the prey. We can even torture them! But they would never feel better after torture -- unless they found someone with compassion. That might be us... But you must know already what our compassion can lead to: to our starvation. Deadly starvation even... So... So the prey be their source of food, just like with us. Yet the "passive" ones hate the "active" ones for being so strong. They're "racist": for they believe, that those "active" are worse, than them. Surprisingly... we believe ourselves better, than them: for we can harvest what they must trick the others into feeding to them! It is weird, but, although where it is about what kind of positivity we Hunt for -- there we agree there is no Hunter better, than his fellow -- for being better is to be proven by deeds... Despite all that it seems... It seems... there is nothing wrong in being greater, than others. So... as weird and disgusting, as it may seem at first... being "racist" is just what we all do?.. Even though we never think our prey worse as a nation... As to the prey's despicability -- well... It's the way the things work in this world. We respect every nation -- and every race, for that matter... but in the end such respect will not prevent us from feasting upon our prey... Again, don't judge me as some prey -- judge me as a Hunter. I don't actually feel myself disgusted with my way of thinking -- although it is rather disgusting, come to think of it... I may be a monster... But am I?.. Am I really despicable?.. I think, I'm only called that. Am I not made the way I am? It is hard to say, really... What is moral worth, if one can't feel shame? If one doesn't suffer of it the way the others do? Consider it: the prey may feel ashamed of something -- and it reforms, it changes its heart, so there be no reason to feel ashamed. And when it doesn't, it is OK. Given enough supplies, it shan't die! While we, Hunters... Suffering is unacceptable for us, relishing in happiness is all we seek. We must be not really different from the others, is it not? So why call us monsters? For what? For our ability to control our emotions? For being able to "turn them off"? Because without certain emotions even usual morality changes drastically? ...I am not made to contemplate such difficult matters, though. In all honesty. No: I am the Spy. Never forget that: for I have much positivity left in me, so you won't probably see me Hunt... But who knows? You may. At that time remember what I've told you now. Maybe, then you will be able to decide: to decide, what matters more: having good conscience or just being sapient enough for the differences not to matter. I have long since left the train. My previous guide must have already alighted and must be visiting his relatives right now. I made sure I did not leave any gaps in his memory: everything must be erased neatly. I may be proud of myself!.. Alright, now I have to learn where that spell might be... My client told me, that it must be kept in the government. But who's to know? It may be anywhere. At least I know, who knows where it is. Because it was told to me. It is odd, that, having had such wonderful a device, they could not steal it themselves: paralyse the victim, put the wristlet on it, then suck the victim in -- and here one has it! It is ideal to fish out memories! So I don't understand... Why?.. Could it be that dangerous?.. Is it really?.. I can't say... so... Alright, so: where is the government? -- I ask myself. I take out the map, which has led me here, and look at it. So, Canterlot... Canterlot... Where is it? Oh, here! And I am in Poniville... It's... here. Uh, yeah... It takes a train to reach it. A long distance to travel... I don't think I can... Sure, for now I have much positivity left in me... but I don't want to be hungry there. Perhaps, I should find a source?.. I just hoped, it would be just a quick trip to here and back again... but, apparently, it isn't... A good spy never leaves any evidence of his being there. And if I feed... I snap out of it with a shake: am I not good enough a spy to survive? Am I not? Of course I am! I am the Spy! Let me settle here for a while: maybe, if I find someone, who will go to Canterlot, I shall solve this problem more easily? Anyway, I need a new guide... Let me see... Disguising as various animals, I lurk in the streets of Poniville. Happy ponies live here. They look, as though they have nothing to worry about. As if the world were still wide and full of wonders. Despite being no children they don't seem... h-m-m-m... too... adult? Even when they do, it's all... too stretched? Sorry, I cannot tell for sure. They don't look like those soldiers at the frontier. They must have never seen war... They must have never lived in a world of danger... The latter seems inexistent here, all banished away from Equestria... It is filled with happiness. I can tell, that all of their problems aren't worth one of mine. Survival? Come on, no one seems to die here! Emotional turmoil?.. Well. Sometimes... sometimes... They may suffer, but it's not, as if they died of emotional pain... Do they? I might relate... Hark! I detect some emotional response... It is directed at me... I turn my head, trying to find the one with feelings regarding me. Who might this be? Some ponies are standing nearby me; they must have been just passing by, when they spotted me. Of course, they would not recognise me: I was disguised as a random dove, searching for some seeds. What is suspicious in that? Yet the ponies seem to be discussing me. I can't hear what they're talking about: they're not shouting. But I can tell, only one of them is concerned. That stallion... He's confused... and disturbed... Why?.. The other one radiates care-free attitude: he must be talking about something being some nonsense. It seems... the thought, whatever it be, amuses him. I tune in to intercept better... The first one... wishes I were not here. Why? am I a scary dove?.. Perhaps, his companion is waving away the ridiculous thought, that I could be of any danger. But the first guy... How did he know to be wary of me?.. I transmit my own intent: "Why are you disturbed about me so much?" -- I wish to ask him. He seems to be caught off guard and surprised by it. ...He is surprised, that I know what he's feeling. This, in my turn, surprises me as well. Another spy??! ...We stare each at other. It must look funny: a dove staring at a pony staring back at it. His companion asks in confusion, what's wrong. He laughs nervously, as if nothing were wrong. But I can't be fooled: I know he's stressed. I try to communicate with him: "Are you a Hunter?" -- I am curious. ...A feeling of dread washes me over. His feeling. Why's he distressed?? He looks at me, and in his eyes I can read: "Yes". I just know he wants to say I'm right to assume. I continue: "What is your diet?" Now, I don't ask that as a doctor or to cook a better meal for him. You see, when a Hunter meets another Hunter, it is a custom amongst us to identify oneself. As said before, all Hunters seek positivity. But positivity is too abstract a term: none of us feeds just on any positivity, no. There are many different kinds of Hunters... maybe, it's breeds, maybe, species... Once again, I'm not a scholar... So, different Hunters consume different kinds of positivity. ...His answer is: "Love..." He "trails off". Of course it's not, as if we were using words, so he doesn't actually trail off, but he wishes to come up with something to "say"... It's... suspicious... Furthermore... Did he say "love"?! Love doesn't really look like something to feel because of bringing misery... "Unrequited love". Oh. That's... more like it. Although... does he?.. can he make one fall in love with him? Maybe, it's great to strike the prey with love... Love is a wonderful, wonderful feeling! Its energy is the most inexplicable of all: even if Hunters don't share positivity, giving out one's love seems not to drain the lover of any positivity he's sharing! Despite our controlling our emotions we practise love. For a family can't exist without love. Yes, Hunters have families. Of course not all of them have: we all feed on the Energy, after all, so... if a Hunter feeds on one's love... I think of betrayed love. The thought doesn't please me at all. I think of pain it causes... The Hunter in disguise feels my emotions I am experiencing. They please him not as well. I invoke the feeling of hatred in my heart: "You are weak. Love is for the weak". His fear overwhelms me. But I don't care what he's feeling any more. "I am strong, -- transmit I. -- From the strong comes hatred... Targeted hatred". He loses his nerve and wants to run away. Well, too bad! He turns to his companion: "Let's go", -- he says to him rather hurriedly. He, being a prey he is, doesn't understand what the weak Hunter is feeling. But I do. It doesn't fill me with positivity, yet... I let them go. My recently invoked hatred doesn't feel great. Oops. The prey may say, my mood is "down", and it would be a great description of what I'm feeling right now... if only I could actually feel. Unconditionally. Like the prey. But I am of Hunters -- they can't allow themselves to sit back, to relax and to enjoy life. No. I'm feeling down, and, unfortunately, nothing... nothing can lift my spirits up. Am I suffering? Well... I am. As a Hunter, however? I feel hunger. I feel slight irritation: that weak Hunter... Damn him. See? I don't rage. Raging is bad: it causes hunger. Being able to shut one's emotions up is great. You may not believe me, but it is: being numb means, no one can hurt you. If you have heard another opinion -- then you must be of the prey. And they can't control their own emotions. They feel unconditionally. Regardless of their needs. Their desires. Their objectives. They are weak. This distance... I won't wish anyone to feel what I feel: I am more superior to the prey, I understand that; and I may look like I treat them arrogantly... The truth is, that I can't feel shame for my attitude. I know: as per the prey's standards I am a monster. But monsters are supposed to be bad. While I? I... don't feel hurt. It's OK. In fact, knew I not I am called a monster, I might be surprised at being called one. I am distant -- and it makes me really curious as to what it feels like to feel shame for being me. Really, I can't understand it. And if I could, maybe... maybe, I should be able to learn not to Hunt? After all, I could replenish my saturation just by spending time with my friends?.. Or listening to some consoling music... Or... I don't know. I wonder: why is positivity only regenerating in those, who can't control their emotions? Why is it, that we're so different? ...Damn it, that's what negativity does to one! I am moping. Soon I'll become depressed. Depression is... very-very unpleasant. Some die of it. ...But not me: the prey may have their regeneration, as they "clear their head" and go improve their mood, -- but I, the Spy, -- I can go Hunt for positivity! I will not die! I will survive! Kids... I mean, aren't they wonderful creatures? Very fragile, very sensitive -- and so care-free. It is disappointing, that they're also unapproachable, however. Their minds are too weak. It's good -- but they may be easily broken. That's bad. I have no kids. I have not even a family of my own. My parents... my brothers... That's all I have. As I've said, kids... They're brimming with emotions! Especially for my goals it's convenient! Yeah, but I am the Spy. Kids may be... very loud. They attract attention. How do I feed off of them without attracting it? That's right: I don't. A pity, though. Kids are valued. ...Oh, you have not thought of me as of a monster yet again, have you? I don't hurt kids. I love them! I love them squealing... Of laughter... Ah!.. How torturous, that it's not me, who makes them laugh, though... I feel already very weak: that weak Hunter! That moment of hatred!.. The world goes darker. Depression, are you visiting my soul's humble abode? You're not welcome. Go away. "Oh! What's the matter, little buddy! Are you lost?" A pegasus mare has approached me. I am still disguised as some small animal. I have many disguises, but some don't require from me to remember what species they represent. Especially since I can't interrogate a specimen of their ways. Bare instincts and nothing more -- that's all I receive from them. "Oh! Are you a little mouse? Hm-m-m, you don't look exactly like a mouse..." Why, yes, I am a rodent. Don't expect me to answer to you: mindless creatures don't speak to sapient ones. "Why... aren't you answering?.." Alert! Disguise has been compromised! ...But no. Is she a fellow Hunter? I transmit to her: "I am hungry". "Oh-h-h! You look hungry!" You didn't have to say it out loud. "Do you want to come with me?" Her kindness knows truly no bounds. That's... odd. I ask with my eyes: "What is your diet?" ...But no answer comes. She's not a Hunter. So then how?.. Maybe, she's just very-very compassionate? "Well... I guess... come along..." A pause. "You're upset, aren't you?" Compassion. That must be it: she is like weak Hunters, but is of the prey. "Don't worry! I promise I'll take care of you!" She picks me up gently. She isn't suffering. That's bad: I could try to feed off of her. Yet it would only sustain me for a while. Bullying the wimps is not my diet. I wonder, if she is... But first I must secure her. Maybe, she will lead me to an isolated place? I show her my affection. It weakens me even more. But she's smiling. We set out. She coos to me all the way to her abode. It doesn't help me. I am already burning with desire. With desire to torture. Violence? What violence?! I'm not feeling violent. Some prey would. But not I. She approaches her hideout. Wait, the prey doesn't hide: it's not a Hunter... What is it? A den?? "Welcome to your new home, -- she says. -- I hope, you will like it here!" We enter inside. This... place is packed with animals. Of every kind. So I am not alone here... "Here you go, buddy!" She sets me down near a bowl already filled with some rodent food. "Friends, meet a new friend!" Other rodents sniff me suspiciously. But they can't see through my disguise. So they let me be. I eat... I have eaten. I am full. "Are you happy?" -- she asks me. I pretend I want to play. "Oh! Do you want to play?" -- she smiles upon me. She's delighted. She extends her hoof to me. I climb up. I start to scurry across her back. This elicits a giggle from her. Her hooves reach for the tickled place. But I'm not there. I have already gone off to some other place. And she's trying to catch me there. M-m-m!.. A squirm!.. She... must be telling me. Something. What? I don't know. I don't listen. I am on a Hunt. Yes, that's how I Hunt. In practice everything looks different from what I described. A connection, a stream of poison... In practice I: one -- seize my prey, two -- tickle it, three -- it suffers, four -- I enjoy it. We, Hunters, take great pleasure in torturing our prey -- that's the way we feed. They receive negativity, we -- positivity. Different Hunters Hunt different ways. Some practise pain. I dislike pain. It hurts too much. Some practise bullying. That's not me. Some drive their prey madly angry. They like to get on their nerves. They like to peeve them. I don't. That's not my way. Some practise fear: they like to terrify their prey. It's... useful, but... may be unhealthy. Some practise domination and humiliation. Honestly, such practices are not much respected. My kind lives secludedly. Other Hunters disdain having to deal with us. Because my kind practises tickle torture. Yes, it's rather disgusting, I know. Domination is for perverted minds. But, maybe, you will think of it just as of a way of feeding, won't you? My previous explanations of the ways of Hunters must have prepared you for this. I know the prey sees me as disgusting. Well. Naturally. You see, as a Hunter I don't see it the way the prey does. For me it's like dining. Only it makes me feel great. But I can't feel great any time I deem fit. You must have remembered it by now. So... I am not doing nasty things. True, it looks like it. So? If I tortured this kind mare with excruciating pain -- how would you like that? Would you? I would certainly not! Eh. You can't understand a Hunter. Emotions are not something we just feel. Taking pleasure in torturing one... It has nothing to do with spontaneous mood swings. That would be disgusting: torturing someone, because you like it! But the thing is -- what we like is not what we like actually. You call it "to like" -- we call it "to feed". What do we call "to like"? As I said, we don't "like". Liking is about feelings. And we are said to have no feelings. So we can't like to torture. We just can't. ...I know, it's hard to comprehend. You don't have to. I may seem like a monster -- but first and foremost... I am the Spy. So, whenever I can, I will feed as decently, as I can manage. Maybe, you'll even like an occasional tickling?.. ...Knowing, however, that you may in fact indeed understand me as no one can, I will not deny you the feast... This tale, however, is not about how I feed. So you may expect drama, value dissonance and even some very dark and utterly disgusting things to happen along the journey. But mostly it is about infiltrating. Of how a true Spy must work!.. The poor mare is lying on the floor. She's panting. She's moaning. A smile is sealed on her lips. It must have been torture of her life! But she will be well. After all, she will remember me as some devious little... mouse? Let me say "rodent" and move on... Who just wanted to misbehave and to have fun. She will forgive me. I think she considers playing with me some time later. But, perhaps, a little less roughly. See? A game of friendly tickling is all it takes for me to be happy! To lift my spirits up! I bet it was fun!.. However I don't suppose it was as funny for my prey, when I evoked squirms from her... When I toyed with her sensitivity... When I played with her like some inconsiderate, cruel child!.. Ah! it feels great to be some creature's misfortune!.. To be one's inevitable nightmare!.. Oh! if only you knew it!.. I don't think you can understand this feeling. This... warmth in a Hunter's heart! The joy that gives him the will to do anything! That energy, the feel of which makes him think he's omnipotent! Unstoppable! That he can do anything!.. Perhaps, you know this feeling, don't you? When someone commends you for something you've done? You think you're great. That you are important. It fills you with joy. With excitement. And determination... You are pleased. Satisfied -- and not only that! You feel "charged up" with something... You feel crackling with Energy that wants out! It is pleasant!.. "Oh-h-h..." She's done panting, apparently. Well. No regrets. "Oh-h-h... That... wasn't really... nice... of you!.." No. She isn't. "But... maybe... you have just no friends?.." Yes, you are correct to assume. A spy has no friends. He's a bad friend. "No one... has taught... you... to behave... has... anyone?.." Still panting, she rises onto her hooves. "Well... just... be nice... next... time... you... want... to... play..." She will regain her breath eventually. She approaches me and pats me, somewhat disappointed in me and... irritated? "Bad mouse! It's not nice to tickle so hard!" I make puppy eyes. I don't regret anything: I fed not for my positivity to be spent just like that! However she's satisfied. She can't read my emotions... can't know I've shut them down. "Well, just be good, OK?" -- and she smiles warmly to me. My heart should be warmed, if I felt anything right now. However I only estimate her state -- she beams with unimaginable kindness! I may as well have no heart at all. ...Oh, well. I am full. Canterlot awaits me... Wait. I need still a guide. And she's right in front of me.