Anemoia

by Starscribe


Chapter 24: Olivine

Keen seemed surprised as they stepped outside, watching the space over Bit's shoulder with considerable confusion. "I didn't think any other pony was allowed into the tower. Wasn't that the payment you requested in exchange for your help?" Then he saw Pathfinder, and he trailed off completely. 

"Pathfinder, could you come forward a moment? Lower your hood for the secretary." 

Pathfinder was no automaton, but after remaining stubbornly still for a few moments, he finally obeyed. He kept glancing to the entrance, where two of the usual soldiers guarded. The ponies he feared attacking him were nowhere to be seen.

"This is Pathfinder, Secretary Ardor," Bit continued. "The patient I described. He is the first successful conversion from organic to crystal pony, as you can see."

Pathfinder's ears folded back, and he didn't make eye contact as he mumbled. "As she says, sir. Glory to the Union."

He's as afraid of Keen as Keen is of Secretary Bolero. Bit couldn't forget that these ponies ruled the city. Just because they were desperate for her help didn't mean they would remain that way.

"We rule forever," Keen said absently, like he'd barely heard. He circled once around Pathfinder, inspecting him as best he could just as Bit had done when he emerged from the polisher. "I've heard your name, Pathfinder. You followed the wizard into the old palace and suffered death by radiation poisoning, isn't that right? The ponies of the palace favella repeat your name almost every day, as proof that the wizard can't be trusted."

Pathfinder was silent for a few nervous seconds. "I do not know if I died, sir. But I know the wizard can be trusted. I begged her to save my life no matter what it cost. Despite what the others say, I am... alive. I think. I can move and think and feel as I did before. There are some... some differences, but they are hard to explain."

Keen scribbled furiously on his usual notepad. "I will inform the secretary of your results. But for now, that will do. We have other business." He strode away, rejoining the guards at the gate. He turned only when already past it. "What about the other two?"

"Assistants," Bit said, following. The automatons kept pace with her without instruction. Pathfinder took a moment to replace his hood before hurrying after. "They are not ponies, only sophisticated machines. I may require their help."

The construction site was already falling into chaos when they arrived. Bit could barely even discern individual voices over the sound of reactivated alarms, several different machines, and the occasional grinding from the substation's fans trying to start. She took one look over her shoulder to Keen. "You were correct, Secretary of Heat. You do need my help."

He nodded grimly. "It wasn't this bad when I left, but even a fool could see which way the winds were blowing." His voice was thin and raspy, and he barely had the strength to yell over all the noise. "The foreman is a skilled stallion. But we've never had cause to repair a facility so old. It isn't his fault he doesn't know what to do."

Bit set immediately to work. There was no sense reprimanding these ponies—as Keen said, they were engineers from another time. They had done their best to follow her instructions—but every one of them was rushing, with the pressure of lives weighing on their every action. It was no wonder they were tripping over each other.

Bit took the foreman's place in all but name, while dispersing her automatons to watch the most critical labor. Pathfinder was a little more trouble—she actively sacrificed a little efficiency to find tasks for him. Relaying status from the individual repair teams, traveling through the service tunnels, and verifying supply lists. Anything to make him feel like his labor was valued.

It was by no means a simple repair—but this time, Bit wasn't working alone. Instead of spending days designing and constructing a complex lever to lift a large load, she could just call over a half-dozen unicorns to levitate a rusting turbine down with simple magic.

Soon she divided her engineers into two shifts—she would have half as many ponies on the site, but now they were working every hour. By the time three days were over, she'd dismantled all that remained of the old, failed repairs, clearing away the heat-transfer mechanism. After six days, a steady trickle of heat began to flow through the interface. By the seventh, phantom-load turbines began to spin, and steam rose in a great column above the relay station.

On the eighth day, every engineer in the building had ditched their cold weather gear, and were instead drenched in sweat.

On the ninth, the Secretary of Labor arrived to congratulate them, riding in an insulated carriage drawn by his own soldiers in black. Bit and her little team stood near the front, at the insistence of the engineers. Whether because she deserved the credit, or would take the fall for a failure, she didn't know.

Either way, poor Pathfinder remained behind the two automatons, still dressed in apprentice robes. But he was just as immune to the heat as he was to the cold, so it wasn't like he could melt.

Soldiers in black advanced through the crowd, confiscating a few oversized tools. They stared at Bit and her crew, but none of them were currently wearing tools. They didn't need them. The relay station had its own little spotlights, which now illuminated the circular block with harsh white light. A few of the old streetlights had failed of course, but in contrast some of the buildings still had functional machines. Orange glowed out from within, machinery of the old empire coming back to life.

Finally, Sombra stepped out of his carriage, wearing a fur-trimmed version of the same military uniforms as everyone else. He adjusted a tight cap, stopping beside the secretary of labor. "Secretary Ardor," he said. "I was informed your team had finally seen some success."

The secretary didn't react to the insult, expression remaining entirely flat. "That's correct. Wizard Bit has proved to be an invaluable addition. Her understanding of empire technology is without parallel. But none of it could be accomplished without the tireless labor of my engineers. They have worked day and night for the last two months to bring this day."

Sombra flicked his tail dismissively, seeming to lose interest about halfway through the explanation. "Very good, very good. I will inform the manufacturer's union they can begin the refit of these structures promptly."

"That's an excellent idea, Secretary," Keen said. "I too worried that another favela might spring up around this new source of heat. It would be far better to centrally plan these structures, to maximize the number who benefit."

Sombra turned back, expression hardening. "I think you misunderstand, Secretary. Deploy the guard to ensure no pony enters any of the buildings in the manufacturing district. Ponies in need of warmth may gather around the radiator, but any who enter the buildings will be treated as traitors to the revolution. Make sure they know this."

Keen saluted with one awkward hoof. "O-of course, Secretary. Would you like a tour of the facility?"

Sombra shook his head once, apparently losing interest in Keen as quickly as he had begun. "Another time, perhaps. I'm fully confident in your work if you are, and lack the personal experience with these facilities to discover anything of usefulness. If you say it is repaired, then I trust your engineers."

"It is," Keen said. "We will want to take the facility offline in summer to make repairs that will prevent future breakdown, but that time didn't permit before winter. Wizard Bit can explain them if you like."

"No." His tone went from dismissive to contempt. "You and the engineering team are dismissed, Secretary. Your work is satisfactory, enjoy its rewards. The wizard and her crew should remain, however."

The engineers filed back down into the facility, pausing long enough to salute the Secretary of Labor with shaking hooves before vanishing underground. Poor Pathfinder wobbled about on his hooves, and looked like he was about to run off to join them more than once. But in the end he remained in place, as a crowd of two dozen was reduced to just four.

The secretary of labor finally turned his attention on Bit. "I hear you were successful in your experiments, Wizard. You were able to save a pony with near-fatal injuries, by conversion to a semi-living mineral state like yourself. Please introduce me."

This close to the relay station, there was no longer any snow on the ground, and the perpetual darkness of winter didn't even seem to affect him. The Secretary of Labor somehow managed to radiate contempt towards the elements themselves. 

Bit saluted as she had seen so many ponies do. "Step aside," she said, then urged Pathfinder forward with a few subtle gestures. The pony obeyed only reluctantly, avoiding eye contact with the secretary. He stopped several feet away, then saluted. The gesture was clumsy, but Sombra didn't seem to care.

"Remove the robe," the secretary ordered. 

Pathfinder obeyed. Despite immunity to the elements, his legs shook as he did so, offering Bit the apprentice robe he'd been wearing. "Yes, Secretary."

"Who are you, citizen?" Sombra asked.

"Pathfinder, secretary," he answered.

"And what did you do in Zircon?"

Pathfinder shifted uneasily on his hooves. "I had no Union membership, Secretary. I looked out for ponies with less than me. I helped build the favela, and other relief projects. But the city had no need for me anywhere else."

Sombra nodded absently. If Pathfinder were afraid he wouldn't like the answer, he was worried over nothing. "And how did you die?"

Pathfinder recounted the story, briefly, starting from the palace and eventually ending with waking up under Bit's care, made of crystal. His voice shook, and he wasn't a particularly eloquent speaker.

Everypony is afraid of Secretary Bolero. They talk to him the same way ponies used to talk to the king. Sure, Sombra had always been talking about how he could look after the needs of Zircon's ponies, but the old king had said things like that too.

"Fascinating," Sombra said. Then his horn began to glow. It was a strange light, one Bit hadn't ever seen from magic before. More like an absence coalescing there, thick enough that the streetlights overhead failed to light his face. He was probably using a medical probe, just like Secretary Keen had done when he first met Bit.

Pathfinder's body stiffened. He took a few rigid steps forward, suddenly moving with military precision. He saluted—properly this time—before freezing in place like he'd lined up for inspection.

Sombra's horn stopped glowing, and his boredom turned to interest. "Wizard—does a pony need to die for this conversion process to occur? Or can it be used on healthy ponies as well?"

"My predecessor hoped for everypony in Zircon to eventually gain what Pathfinder has been given," she said. "The process is easier with a healthy subject. With Pathfinder, there was some doubt that he would survive the conversion. But there were no other options left to me."

Why is he acting that way? Pathfinder still hadn't moved, not even a twitch. Even the automatons moved a little, fighting slightly exactly as she did.

"And the other things you said about this process—" Sombra focused on Pathfinder again. "Have you eaten or slept since you were revived? Have you felt cold or heat?"

"Eaten, yes," he said. Pathfinder's voice was much the same, but the tone was even less alive than the automatons. "Once, when an engineer offered me supper. I have tried to sleep, without success."

"Excellent. Wizard, what resources do you require to convert more ponies? I will put Zircon at your disposal."

For the first time since opening her Wizard's door, Bit was shocked into silence. Her mouth fell open, and she stayed that way for at least a minute, staring stupidly at nothing. "You'll what?"

The secretary wheeled on her. Far from angry, he seemed satisfied by her reaction. "I wish to honor the legacy of your predecessor. His life's work will be accomplished. I like the strategy you chose already—begin with the city's undesirables and uncrafted, those who are already nothing more than a drain on our resources. Should they fall in the experiment, the sacrifice of their lives will further the revolution. Once perfected, we'll visit the hospitals, and administer this treatment to the aged and sickly. So tell me what you need, Wizard, and you will be given. Whatever workers, whatever supplies—this treatment must be given to as many ponies of Zircon as possible."

Bit didn't answer for an uncomfortably long time. Wasn't this everything she wanted? Crimson would jump at this chance—it was the realization of his life's work. Zircon would be free at last, and not need to fear Equestria ever again. So why did she hesitate?

"What happened to Pathfinder? Why is he... acting so strange?"

Sombra twitched, and all his amusement and friendliness vanished. "Wizard, I asked you a question. I am promoting you, to do a service far greater than repairing simple machines. Answer my question."

This isn't right. But what choice did she have? Bit took a deep breath, then told him.