//------------------------------//
// Chapter 21: Heliotrope 
// Story: Anemoia 
// by Starscribe 
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Bit watched the polisher count down from just beside it. The sand had stopped several minutes ago, with only the water-pump still circulating. It was the wash at the end of a cycle, when all that was left was dislodging residue before the automaton within was released. She'd always found it to be the most refreshing part of the cycle, though in retrospect the water was incredibly cold and got into all parts of her body. Someone who used to be organic would probably not enjoy the process much.

I hope you're still sane in there, she thought, her horn glowing faintly. The light spell was pointless in the well-illuminated tower, just a constant draw on her energy and concentration. But if she stopped the spell, even for a moment, she couldn't be sure if she would be able to cast it again. She wouldn't stop the glow, maybe ever.

She ran through her list of conversations she'd prepared while she waited—there was so much that needed Pathfinder's help. He would be meeting the secretary soon, she had to check under the floor in the bedroom, and there were the two automatons to finish repairing. Not to mention the life Pathfinder had left behind when he came in here. Rue might eventually riot if she didn't get a chance to meet him and see for herself that Bit had actually saved his life.

"Cycle complete," said the machine, in its familiar imperial accent. The two halves of the polisher lifted to both sides, dripping streams of icy water through the metal grate below them.

Pathfinder stood within, soaking wet. He twitched a few times to dislodge the water, but that was probably reflex. He wasn't shivering, because of course it couldn't steal his body heat. He had none to steal.

His body glimmered now, a little smaller than before, fully translucent on all sides. The uneven pockmarks along his whole surface were gone, polished to a shine. Bit approached him, circling around him the same way she might appraise any repaired automaton. There was still some damage to one of his flanks—all the imperfect crystal had been cut away, sinking several inches into the leg.

"Looks good," Bit said. "I'm only seeing one defect—the infection on your left leg here was the worst, leading to flawed crystal. Until you get a graft here, you'll be vulnerable to cracking in extreme temperatures. Make sure not to fall on this side either, you could shear off your leg. I'll have to prepare a growth-bath with repair solution as soon as possible."

Pathfinder hadn't moved until then, standing as rigidly still as any automaton without instructions. Her words seemed to rouse him, and he jerked away from her, taking several steps back. His flank bumped against the wall, and he shook his head. "No. I'm not... going into any more bucking crystal anything. No baths, no salves, no nothing." Crystal eyes didn't display color well, but she could still see just how wide they became. "It feels like I was in there for weeks! Nothing but that grinding sound, my own body wearing away... so dark."

She settled onto her haunches, looking thoughtful. "Hmm. So you didn't find the time went more quickly when there was no stimulation? You didn't go into a hibernating state to conserve energy?"

Pathfinder shrugged. "I have no idea what that would feel like. All I know is, I'm not going back in that box. One treatment will have to be enough." He took a few wobbling steps past her, into the workshop. "I need to visit my friends. I've been gone for... how long? Months?"

"Two weeks," she said. "Slightly over, but most ponies don't appreciate that level of precision. Pathfinder, if you do not wish to be repaired at this time, you do need to be careful with your body. Do not attempt to lift heavy loads with your back legs, or one might shatter. Do not fall, strike that leg, or move rapidly between temperature extremes. Ignoring the damage does not prevent it from harming you."

He hurried through the lab, stopping at the top of the stairwell, and glancing back towards her. "Is there anything else I need to know? Will I, uh... charge? I won't drop dead if I leave your tower, will I?"

"You probably shouldn't leave," she began. "But no, you'll be fine anywhere in Zircon. The spire is enough to sustain us even deep underground. I don't know how long we would last if we left the city. Based on the thaumic density of crystal, probably weeks."

"Great," he interrupted, before she could go into magical detail about the inner-workings of their crystal bodies. "That's great." He bounded down a few steps, then stopped one landing down, turning to call back to her. "Thanks for saving my life, Bit! I don't remember much from when I was sick, but... I know you were always working hard to save me. I won't forget it."

He hurried back down the steps, hooves clattering with each. She could hear the tower security scan him, identify him as a tower service automaton, and open without her intervention. Guess that means he can come back whenever he wants. 

Bit lingered in the stairwell for several minutes, staring at the empty place where Pathfinder had gone. She'd done it—she'd proved the evil king wrong. She matched everything on the checklist for life—and apparently her magic knew it. But if she was whole, why did it feel like her crystal had developed a dozen fresh imperfections?

She slunk back into the lab, to where the first automaton still lay in the growth-vat. A little work would still her racing thoughts—so she worked, settling it into the polisher, then carrying the second automaton into the growth vat to take its place. "You two won't leave me behind in the tower, will you? I thought converting Pathfinder would fix the flaws in his organic mind—teach him reliability and purpose. But he left us, just like all the organics who used to work in the tower. Why do they do that?"

Of course the automatons didn't answer. The Wizard died so the apprentices could live. I shouldn't hate them anymore. Maybe she would forgive them for abandoning their posts, but not today.

She could occupy her time planning the repairs to the substation—but the thought of that filled her only with dread. She needed a task—just like Pathfinder in the polisher, standing still left her alone with her thoughts. She had to be moving.

There was one question waiting for her—the Wizard's last request. With his bones now resting under the tower, there was no point in maintaining her usual cleaning routine, and no hope of further messages from him except for the last. Whatever he'd hidden under his floor, he wanted her to discover it. 

She ascended the steps, through the Wizard's laboratory—her lab now, she supposed—and into the bedroom, where the resurfacing machine still sat. She'd never used the device before, but she'd seen it done enough times to know. She flipped the switch, and it began to rumble, like the purring of a gigantic animal. With some light pressure on the rear, it slid forward, leaving the bare metal of the tower's superstructure behind it. Or it should've...

The device cut down half a foot of crystal, far more than any standard floor. But here in the bedroom, there was another layer of crystal below, opaque now from the acidic etching of the floor polisher. She walked it across the room in a line, then back the other way, and found the same was true of the entire space. It took about an hour for her to cut down the entire room, save where the bed stood.

Nothing had been exposed by the process, though by the end the reservoir on the machine was entirely filled. Bit fought the instinct to carry it all the way down to the basement to dispose of what was inside, instead dumping it in the lab's lavatory to deal with later.

"What did you hide, Crimson?" she asked the portrait. "You could have used a safety-deposit locker in the vault. It would be far easier to retrieve. Knowing you, I'm probably looking for some secret spell you didn't trust to anyone else. Why not store it in the computer? Nopony else would be modifying the crystal pony project."

Crimson's face only smiled back at her, unmoving. But that was nothing new. Bit left it behind, and returned to work. The resurfacing tool took down another six inches of crystal, and this time she finally uncovered the swirling, red-metal surface of the tower, from one end of the room to the other. Now the whole room looked strange, an oversized trough that made her need to climb down through the doorway. But she'd found nothing.

Bit dragged the oversized bedframe out of its place, propping it up against the wall. She was tempted to try and move it with magic, but probably best not to strain herself moving things around when she didn't even know if she could.

She could tell things were different right away—where the machine had hummed happily through most of the room, it immediately shifted to an unhappy groaning sound. She stopped it, backing away from the section of exposed floor. The machine trailed thin wire, which now coiled into the complex mechanisms. Elder Metal, reddish and marbled with silver just like the structure of the tower itself. She walked in a slow circle around the space, wishing she knew a spell to scan it. But then, she could wish for any spell. Magic could do so many useful things, once she learned how.

But from the part of the floor she'd exposed, she could already see a pattern. There was a grid of metal wires here, one that probably crossed through the entire area below the bed. It was supposed to be a compartment where you hid your secret spells. Why would you want me to tear up your machines?

Bit severed the wires, untangling them from the resurfacing machine. She broke from the previous pattern, settling it directly over the center of the space. If she planned on hiding some machine out of reach of accidental discovery, that was where she'd put it.

The machine groaned and spluttered, making it less than two feet before it died. But Bit didn't need to go any further.

A metal box was hidden here, with a bundle of hundreds of metal fibers spiraling down through an opening in the center. Getting through the crystal had utterly destroyed them—probably months of careful crystal growing, gone in seconds. I hope that wasn't what you wanted me to find.

Bit switched off the machine, shoving it roughly to the side. She hurried away, returning with a chisel and hammer a few minutes later. She started cutting, clearing crystal away from the edges of the box. Only when the door on its front was clear could she finally swing it open, and reveal the contents within.

Bit had seen its like before, in the diagrams she had copied while cleaning the wizard's workshop. All those wires connected to a crystal sphere a little larger than a hoof, where they each rested within a complex casing mechanism. She clicked it open instinctively, removing the crystal sphere within. 

It wasn't perfectly clear, but marbled with thousands and thousands of semiconductive layers. A thaumic superprocessor used in regular automatons had patterns stretching out from within, like expanding ripples in a pond. This one was irregular, with dozens of ragged edges, voids, and dense circles of activity. 

The box contained other support equipment, more of the designs she'd seen outlined in detail in the wizard's notes. But she didn't need any of that. She carried the processor reverently from the room, overwhelmed by that strange numbness only Crimson could make her feel.

All her labors, every moment suffering to repair the tower, every year spent diligently cleaning the windows—had been worth it after all.

The Wizard had planned for everything, including his death.