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// Chapter 27: Kunzite 
// Story: Anemoia 
// by Starscribe 
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Bit wasn't there to see her first victims wake—the process still wasn't timed precisely enough for that.

What the secretary demanded, he had received—laborers had arrived the very next morning to haul equipment away. Bit had considered resisting them, sealing up the tower and letting its defenses keep the Zirconian army at bay. But while she could imagine soldiers battering up against its magic and melting onto the snow, she couldn't face what Sombra would do to Pathfinder.

So she let them come, loading crate after wooden crate marked for Revolutionary Square. At least they let her separate them by purpose. The secretary let her keep anything she thought she might need in her new duties. Everything else went into another building for her to never see again.

But while she might've been generally obedient to her orders, she wasn't exactly a motivated servant. While crews were busy with the largest, most complex-looking machines, she used the automatons to squirrel away a little in the catacombs under the tower.

The secretary has already gone back on his promises to me before. I was supposed to keep the tower, and he's emptying it. He stole Pathfinder. I can't let him do that again.

She would never get away with missing the big machines that Sombra himself had inspected. But computer terminals, stockpiles of automaton cores... and the pieces of the Wizard's own mental recording—those she could hide. It never even seemed to cross the minds of the movers that she would be trying to deceive them. With so much valuable equipment to bring, how were they to know if she failed to produce a few things?

It still hurt to watch as the building she had worked so hard to restore was emptied before her eyes. First her workstation, then the old Wizard's lab were taken apart, leaving only dark stains on the crystal where once the machinery of science had stood.

At least the secretary didn't load her and the automatons into a box. He gave no specific instructions, only a letter that she could send a personnel request to the Secretary of Labor for as many skilled workers as she required.

Her new lab was nothing like the one she'd left behind. Here in Revolutionary Square the power worked only at certain hours of the day. Work stopped for an hour a day to stand in blocks and listen to recorded motivational speeches. 

At least she was trusted enough not to have revolutionary guard dogging her every movement and following her through the lab. Rather, the black-armored soldiers backed away from her whenever she approached, muttering of her heroic accomplishments in service to the nation.

It wasn't all bad, of course. She was the foremost expert in “old empire” technology now. That meant obedience from every laborer and technician below her. When she suggested a certain configuration of machines and technology, she was obeyed without question. When she asked to be kept informed of the progression of the first crystal experiments, a clerk appeared from nowhere to follow her commands.

Even so, she kept her crystal automatons beside her from the first, and refused any suggestion that they should be taken away for examination of their own. At least until the Secretary of Labor got involved, she had that much power.

But her new assignment... Bit didn't even know where to begin. 

Sombra had made his demands clear enough: he wanted a weapon they could deploy to Equestrian cities, one that would spread too rapidly through its population for its unicorns to cure.

"We can't hope to conquer the south with strength of hooves alone," he had said. "The old empire had a larger army, better trained and better equipped than any we could field with just one city. Yet Equestria halted their advance. They spent decades repeating the same failed strategies, pushing south with doomed advances. We will strike in ways they do not expect."

"I know nothing of weapons," she had protested, as gently as she could. "The old Wizard and I were working to solve all the difficulties of life in the north, not conquer or kill those in the south."

Sombra had waved away her objections as dismissively as he rejected every other complaint she made. “This confusion is common for those with limited vision. But the competences are the same. Consider, for example, what the crystal conversion would do if aerosolized. You are working with techniques you already understand well."

"If it were..." She'd spent so long expecting Sombra to act like the other creatures of this era, concerned primarily with survival over all else. But his understanding was incongruous, and seemed to extend to complete mastery of any technology or magic she could mention. "Secretary, the treatment isn't meant to be introduced through the respiratory system. It could never carry enough computational substrate when diffused through droplets that small. It would endlessly process organic matter, without taking the necessary steps to protect the individual."

To her horror, Sombra only nodded. "So you have an initial direction for research. Begin with animal models. I'll make condemned ponies available as soon as your progress calls for them. Prioritize the speed of transmission over all other factors, including lethality. If thousands of enemy citizens are maimed and require lifetime hospice care, that can do more to demoralize and disarm Equestria than anything from the strategic nuclear reserve."

Every message from the secretary was a fresh horror now. How soon would he expect this deadly poison? What purpose could it possibly serve? Did he even care about Equestria's retaliation?

Bit considered the technical problem as ordered, if only for a few minutes. But then she heard the screaming again—screaming of condemned murderers and rapists and who knew what else—and she imagined thousands of innocent Equestrians screaming like that.

Bit couldn’t just stop working—the revolutionary guard might be subservient to her labors for the cause, but they would notice inaction. The wizard famous for her ceaseless work ethic couldn't just stop in place and let endless months pass by. The luxury of much labor really just meant plenty of eyes to observe everything she did.

To buy herself some time to think, Bit ordered the construction and rigorous testing of crystal-growth substrates. The technology was entirely unnecessary to develop poisons, which could be cultured almost as effectively with a climate-controlled pot. 

"To evaluate the quality of this substrate, we will produce crystal parts from a novel mold," she instructed, to her fawning technicians. They varied widely in skill from utter incompetence to slightly below the lowliest apprentice that Crimson would've accepted.

Bit didn't sort them by talent, since she didn't trust anyone but her automatons for any truly difficult task. Rather, she categorized by how eager they were to serve Sombra's purpose. Those who understood the poison they were making and who sang the praises of the good they would do for the revolution, those she kept far away from anything important.

By contrast, those technicians who became frightened or subdued by their mission, those she remembered, and gave the tasks most likely to alert an observant scientist that they weren't actually making poisons. That even included carving models from a set of old bones, using general anatomical estimates and observations from an accommodating male technician where pieces were missing. 

"I don't understand the purpose of this model," said Diffuse Gloam, one of her smartest and most dangerous technicians, on the sixth day of work. "It's obvious you're growing the parts of a pony from crystal—like yourself. How does this help us achieve our goal?"

The vat stood in the center of her lab, meaning that everypony would overhear the conversation. Bit froze, conscious of the pressure of so many eyes on her. Fortunately, she'd been preparing for that question. If not from one of her staff, then Sombra eventually.

"The weapon must be dangerous only to the enemy," Bit explained, as confidently as she could. "We need to ensure the poison isn't dangerous to the army of crystal ponies that will take the cities we strike."

"Oh." Gloam fell silent then, mollified. "I suppose that makes sense. Better to test with a model." 

It wasn't—the weapon Sombra wanted would have no effect on crystal, as it was only designed to transform living tissue. But the crew didn't know that, and she wasn't about to explain it.

Despite her urgent assignment, Bit still had enough influence to leave for anything important—including the revival of her first crop of crystal ponies.

This too was a public ceremony, though the ponies in question had been moved to Revolutionary Square. Sombra didn't want to send the impression that anything wizardly had been involved, after all.

But there was nothing like the live executions they'd been forced to watch last time. After an appropriately dramatic speech about how they'd discovered the solution to all Zircon's problems and how incredible the secretary’s leadership had been, the two surviving ponies marched out onto the stage.

That brings the survival rate down even further. Every one of those ponies would've been fine if we treated them in a hospital. 

"These ponies have proven their loyalty to Zircon," Sombra said, taking the stage behind them. The three crystal ponies fell into step behind him, as responsive as his revolutionary guards. More, even. It was like what she'd seen from Pathfinder. "They are forgiven of their crimes, and welcomed back into Zircon. Let all who see them forget their guilt and treat them as returning war-heroes."

Bit herself stood near the back of the stage, where she could watch a crowd of thousands stamp and cheer. The ground was so packed with them that no snow touched the cement, despite the growing flurry overhead. Winter had arrived in force, and the sun didn't quite manage to crest the distant horizon. They lived in the purple glow of the Zircon Spire, which served the double purpose of melting most of the snow. 

"This is the future I bring to all ponies of Zircon," Sombra continued. "The first procedure was fraught with risk, and some did not survive. I will improve it, so that none who are loyal to the revolution need fear. These gifts will not be hoarded by the few, but shared with all in their time. We will begin with those who are most in need—those who struggle to warrant ration coupons, those who cannot find a place to warm themselves in the growing cold. Spread the word among your neighbors that all of them are to come to the square. They will be welcomed, given food and warmth, and be the first brave ponies to step into a new era.

"Where they go, they walk immune to the frigid cold. They need not fear starvation, or time. They will be immortal. We will all join them in time. But as in all things, this gift begins at the bottom, and will be shared with your leaders last. You will be the first to prosper."

He turned, glancing towards Bit. The microphone switched off. "Anything you'd like to add?"

She shook her head—evidently the correct response, because Sombra continued with the pomp and circumstance. This crowd of thousands wasn't the scientists and generals who had seen the first experiments. They had no reason to fear.

There was only one good thing about the entire ritual—when it was finally done, Sombra returned to her with another crystal pony in tow. He wore the black armor of the revolutionary guard, except for a helmet. Had he learned how to march like that in two weeks? 

"I return this pony to your care," Sombra said. "He served the Revolution well, and allowed me to learn much. He has suffered somewhat as a result, however. Consider his return a gift for your continued service."