//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: Total Mental Collapse // Story: Underped // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// With some difficulty, Derpy climbed the stairs. They hardly felt real, as if the familiar wood were a thousand miles away from her hooves. She was tired and felt sick—and there was something in her head. A buzzing that she had never realized was there, the sudden formation of thoughts she could only halfway perceive. The brain of course had no internal pain receptors nor the ability to feel temperature—but she could almost feel the crystal heating up, clicking forward like a cicada in slow motion, every click a pulse pushing her farther and farther toward something that made her want to cry and run away. A something she did not know—and that she could not know. Swaying, she entered Dinky’s room—and after a moment of searching, she brought down a familiar book. “The Pony and the Oni,” she said, smiling at the cover and remembering the good times it had brought her. When Dinky, before even the age of one, had read the book to her as she sat in rapt attention. She remembered Dinky’s laugh, and the silly voices she had made as she read it for each character, her squeaky voice struggling to portray the terrifying oni that had left Derpy hiding under the covers. How they had laughed together. How much she loved her daughters—a memory that drove back some of the pain, bringing clarity to the graying world around her. She brought her hoof to the corner and stopped—because something inside her told her not to open it. Something stronger, though, compelled her to open it—to reveal the illustration on the first page, and the familiar text. “here once was a little pony who was terribly afraid of the dreaded oni...” she read, her hoof tracing over the slightly yellowed page. Then shaking, she turned it—and found nothing on the other side. She flipped through the rest of the book. There was no text, no pictures. Only blank, identical sheets of paper. Her breath quickening, Derpy set down the book and took down another from the shelf. It had no title, not even a clear design on the cover—but as she opened it, she found the same. There were no words inside. Checking another one, she found the same. “Mom?” Derpy squeaked and jumped, dropping the book. She turned sharply to see Sparkler standing in the doorway—looking concerned. “Sparkler,” said Derpy, relieved. “You’re back earlier than I expected. I stopped at the grocer. Also, Dr. Whooves was here earlier looking for you.” “Time Turner...” Sparkler entered the room. “Doing some reading?” Derpy stiffened—but retained her composure. “Something’s wrong with the books.” Sparkler frowned. “What, like mold? Or those weird little bugs?” “No. Look.” Derpy held up the children’s book she had read before—one that she could remember only a day before sitting and reading with Sparkler. She opened to one of the blank pages and gave it to Sparkler. “Look.” Sparkler looked at it, then up at Derpy. “Mom, you know I can’t really read, right?” She looked back down. “I mean, it looks like it always did. It’s a foal’s book.” “The dyslexia.” “Yeah. Crystallic’s easier, but it still takes me a while.” “That’s convenient, isn’t it?” Sparkler stared at her, seemingly offended. “Not really, no. It makes my job really hard.” Derpy shakily opened another one of the thicker books. “But there’s no words in these!” Sparkler frowned, looking at the book. “Okay, now that’s one of Dinky’s textbooks, no way I could read that even if my letters didn’t go sideways on me.” “You see words, though?” Sparkler looked up, an expression of grave concern on her face. “Mom. The book looks like it’s always looked. Are you feeling okay? You’re scaring me.” Derpy, who had been holding up another book, dropped it and backed up. The buzzing in her head was growing stronger. Thoughts trying to break through that she had to force back. “I don’t...know what’s...” She shook her head. “Something is wrong, Sparklie and I don’t...I don’t think I’m okay.” She looked up, tears in her eyes. “I’m—I’m seeing things that aren’t there, and not seeing things that are supposed to be there and, and...and I’m afraid. I’m so afraid and I don’t know what’s going on.” Without a word, Sparkler rushed to her and wrapped her in a hug. “Don’t worry, mom,” she said, her voice filled with the confidence of the royal steward she was. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get through this together. You, me, and Dinky. Got that?” Derpy sniffled, and the buzzing slowed—to one pointed thought that very nearly came through, but one that she pushed back harder than the rest. One that she simply could not accept. “Yeah,” she said, hugging her eldest daughter. “Yeah. You’re right, Sparklie. You’re right.” Derpy sat down at her kitchen table. Sparkler went to work doing something to distract herself, maybe cleaning dishes—Derpy was not able to pay attention. She had managed to gain control of herself, but had a suspicion that if she did not focus she would quickly and uncontrollably decay. And, if she did, she was not sure if she could haul herself back again. Dinky entered the room, pulling up a chair and hopping into the seat, levitating several books up with her. She was still short, but had grown so much since she had been a little filly—she would never be as tall as the Canterlot unicorns on account of her mother’s genes, but Derpy was watching her little baby filly turning into a mare before her eyes. Or, rather, through the few increments she saw her home from school. Now, though, she had her youngest daughter’s full attention—and for that, at the very least, she was grateful. “So. You’re having issues with your braincase.” “Dinky,” snapped Sparkler, nearly snapping a fork also in the process. “You can’t be sharp without being blunt,” retorted Dinky. “She’s not wrong,” admitted Derpy with a sigh. “I’ve been...feeling off. Really bad. Like everything isn’t...there? Like, I can see it, I can touch it, but...something’s not right.” “Dissociation. Possibly in accordance with hallucinations.” “I went to see the doctor and he wasn’t very helpful.” “No. I don’t expect he would be. Modern medicine can only go so far, and this isn’t a medical issue.” “It isn’t?” “No.” Dinky uncapped several pens and began writing. “This is an arcane problem. The implant is magical. And I have an idea of how it works.” Dinky held up the paper she was holding. “The problem is, it makes you smarter.” “That’s what it’s supposed to do.” “Yes, but not this fast. Believe me, I’ve seen what hyper-learning spells do to a pony. It breaks down the filter that’s supposed to exist. Your brain doesn’t knock down irrelevant things and starts making patterns where they’re not supposed to be.” “Meaning the positive symptoms of schizophrenia. Great.” “Mechanistically, yes, but schizophrenia is a biological disease, not a magical one. Usually.” “Can it be fixed?” “If we slow down the crystal, yes.” “Dinky,” said Sparkler, turning away from the sink. “You can’t be serious. This is heavy-duty medical stuff. You can’t go messing around in mom’s head all willy-nilly.” “Like some idiot of a surgeon already did? I am a wizard. And I didn’t say I needed to do it.” She turned to her mother. Then, slowly, she sighed. “Look, mom. I know I’ve been kind of a butt, but I’m trying to help. And I’m not that arrogant. But I got to know a lot of my teachers, and if the doctors can’t help you, I know they can. Especially if I get an idea of what’s working. And what parts aren't.” She turned the page in her notebook. “So, right now, the crystal is driving a factorial program based on its facet integer. If it’s very high purity, there could be millions if not billions of functional crystal units both in the material sense as well as in quantum-magical abstractum, so changing one of the fundamental constants of its resonance may slow the fundamental vibration that drives the spell’s forward progression. I would need to know the crystal’s fundamental composition and origin, though, because the real trick will be keeping the spell functioning without decay. If that gets messed up, it would be exponential.” Derpy stared at her daughter—and she could feel something welling inside her. A thought she could not escape until it burst into her consciousness. “None of that...means anything.” Dinky and Sparkler looked back. “It’s fundamental magical theory,” said Dinky. “But it’s all a bunch of nonsense. Because magic...magic can’t work.” “Mom. Sparkler and I are both unicorns. I’m literally levitating a pen right now.” “But how do you explain that in terms of field theory? What mechanism is actually applying force to the pen? It’s not metal, it can’t be magnetic, and magnetic fields don’t work like that anyway, there would be no way to direct the field as it disperses exponentially with distance...magic doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t apply based on the known physics of the...of the...” Derpy nearly retched as the thoughts flooded to her—and as her mind seemed ready to split. The sudden understanding of the physical laws of the world, of basic fundamental scientific facts—versus the seemingly empirical truth of the magic in front of her. The magic was false—and yet observable. “Mom,” said Dinky, slowly. “This is literally you’re own idea. The equation you drew on the board at school, the recursive one...I’m using that right now to explain that it is possible to help you.” “But...but was there even an equation?” Dinky looked at Sparkler, betraying her fear, and then back to her mother. “You saw it.” “NO! No...I mean, neither of us saw it...we were just told it was there...I mean, can you remember what it looked like? What it actually said? Because I can’t. I can’t remember...” “I have it written down right here.” “You’re telling me that you’ve written it down, but DID YOU ACTUALLY?!” cried Derpy, suddenly standing up, both her daughters jumping back. “Tell me what it said! Read me the dang math!” “Mom!” said Sparkler, putting her hoof on Derpy’s shoulder. “Please...” Derpy shook her head, stepping back. “Sorry, I’m sorry I just...I don’t...” She looked down at her hooves. “Magic isn’t real,” she said, slowly looking up. “It’s absurd. There can’t be a crystal in my head, because magic crystal’s aren’t real...” Dinky stood up on her chair. “Mom. I’m not going to argue with you on this but I think it’s worse than we thought. We need to get you to the ER, right now.” “Because you think I’m insane. Because you think I have a crystal in my brain that’s feeding me defective thoughts. But what if I don’t? What if I’m right?” “Mom. Dinky’s not wrong—” Derpy pushed past them—only to feel Sparkler’s magic pull her back. “Don’t touch me. Please.” She looked back. “I’m sorry I yelled. I think...I think I need to go for a walk. I’m about to panic right now and I...can I at least take a lap before we go?” Dinky and Sparkler looked at each other. “Yeah. Let us get our coats.” “No,” said Derpy, spreading her wings as she reached for the door. “I think I want to fly.” Even if the weight of a pony would be far to great for bird-like wings to support, unless her bones were hollow. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” “And we’ll get through it?” asked Sparkler. Derpy looked back and smiled as she lied to her daughters’ faces. “Yeah. We’ll get through it together.”