Sweetie Belle lay somewhere dark. She wasn't sure exactly how she'd gotten there. At first she knew nothing at all—then a distant, background panic joined her, pressing in on her from all sides. Whatever was going on, Scootaloo was in danger! She had to find her friend!
Sweetie struggled, willing her horn to light—and it came on. The fear was far too sharp for her to notice or even care what kind of magic it was.
She was in a dark room, with shiny floors, white walls, and a curtain just beside her. The space of her nightmares, or it would be if she still needed to sleep. Another her had spent her last months in a place like this, getting weaker every day until she had no strength left to lose.
She sat up, dislodging a paper-thin blanket from her chest. There was nothing remarkable about it—white coat, smelling like harsh hospital soap and antiseptic. Bandages wrapped around her forelegs at various points, and a heavy one encircled her barrel completely.
The holes are gone. She stretched with one hoof, running it down the foreleg. The carefully-concealed ventilation openings were all gone. Despite their absence, her coat still felt warm. In fact, if she held still for long enough...
She touched the soft frog of her hoof up to her neck, holding it firmly there. A slight elevation, steady and rhythmic. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump.
Sweetie Belle had a heartbeat again. Sweetie Belle was alive.
Her last visit to this hell had been so long ago—yet those formative memories remained cemented into her mind, absolute and unyielding. She knew exactly how far to reach to find the red “call” button placed over her head.
She slammed her hoof down hard, hard enough that the plastic yielded slightly. So did her leg, sending a flash of pain through her body. It hurt. She could hurt!
Sweetie wasn't sure who she was expecting—this hospital wasn't familiar to her, any more than the sudden changes to her perception. Nothing about it made sense. She should be...
Underground. She remembered it now—her date with Scootaloo, exploring the empty gem caverns around Ponyville. Her special somepony liked to explore, and anywhere that made her feel less self-conscious about her lack of flight was an advantage. If she was in a hospital, did that mean—
The dim lights came on, stinging harshly into her face. Even that had a strange unnatural quality to it, though she couldn't place exactly how. Something about the sharpness of the shadows it made?
Then the door swung open, and a nurse hurried inside. "Oh, you're awake! I wasn't sure how long it would take."
Nothing should've upset her about this particular pony—in her months living in a hospital, she saw plenty of them, coming and going in a steady stream. They were always kind, though sometimes their pity cut as deep as any weapon. Maybe that was it, something familiar about the cutie mark, and her voice.
She approached the bed, holding a clipboard under her leg. She glanced sidelong at the monitor, then lifted Sweetie's foreleg and inspected the connection. "Looks like you're recovering nicely. Ahead of schedule."
"I..." Sweetie glanced towards the window, but found a curtain obscured it. Only a diffuse glow of distant houses suggested anything at all aside from this room. "Where is this? What's going on?"
The nurse clicked her tongue, then settled her clipboard onto a waiting peg. "That's... that's a question." She settled onto her haunches at the foot of Sweetie's bed. "Are you feeling well enough that you won't... freak out?"
Sweetie nodded. The more she saw, the more evidence she found that something was clearly amiss. The IV running into her foreleg didn't seem connected—the soreness where needle met skin was missing. Medical adhesive stuck to her coat, but there was nothing underneath. Likewise, the beeping monitor never changed. Her heart raced, yet it continued a steady, repetitive beat.
"I'm calmer than most ponies. I've died before, in a... room just like this. How much worse could this be?"
The nurse shrugged. "I don't actually know. I'm not alive, and I never have been. I can only make projections based on observed behavior. Conscious state-matrix progressions are too complex to store with high fidelity."
Sweetie sat up straighter. Those words would mean little to most other ponies, but to her—this was her first hint of honesty. "This isn't Ponyville General."
"Afraid not," the nurse agreed. "And I'm not really Healing Touch. I'm not anyone in a sense you would recognize. But given the urgency of your situation, it would be wise to forgo the formalities."
"The..." Sweetie gritted her teeth, then ripped the fake IV off her foreleg with her magic. It worked, trailing off to a sealed plastic tube. But more importantly, her magic worked! She could levitate, exactly as she remembered! "Woah! Am I alive again? Did Scootaloo and I find some... ancient spell? Like a come-to-life to make machines into real ponies?"
Her companion's expression grew somber. "I'm afraid not. In fact, you may not be alive for much longer in any sense. I fear that the progression of events that led you here will lead to a final termination of function. This far underground, the tracking signal you emit will not be detected. Thus, your internal power reserve will deplete, and you will enter permanent suspended mode. Nopony will discover you, and thus you will never be reactivated."
She remembered the cavern, remembered their brave climb down an unexplored slope, then the collapsing ceiling... "Scootaloo! What happened to her?"
"Trapped with you," the nurse answered, as emotionless as everything else she said. "The wounds she sustained appear significant. But I am not equipped to diagnose her—preserving your life is my primary function."
Sweetie shook free of the blanket, stumbling forward on her own power. She felt strangely weak, a gentle background of tiredness that welcomed her back to the bed. She ignored its promptings, wandering over to the window and pulling the curtains open.
There was no Ponyville outside, just a few vague spots of light set against a scene of total blackness. This wasn't a blackout, or shadow magic—there just wasn't a town anymore. "Even simulating this room is a waste of valuable resources," the nurse said. She followed Sweetie Belle to the window, keeping a respectful distance with every step. "But the damage you suffered—induced a power surge, knocking you briefly offline. Reboots from blackout require careful conditions, otherwise they risk permanent decoherence."
Some of those words made sense to her—the important ones, anyway. "So if I'm understanding you... I'm still underground. I'm broken, Scootaloo is trapped too. No one will find us." The nurse nodded, and Sweetie continued. "Why wake me back up? If we're really..." She couldn't bring herself to say it.
"Some power remains," the pony said. "I can't accurately estimate how much. Only one of your legs was detached—the other three are working. Your kernel is fully intact, obviously. I hoped to wake you in time to take action."
She gestured, and the little hospital room door flew open. Of course the earth pony had no magic to do it, but that didn't seem to matter. Beyond it was more blackness, a space without light or dimension. "If you go through that door, you will complete boot procedures and return to your broken body. I've already disabled every pain subroutine, to keep you conscious. It is imperative you climb as high as possible. If the surface rock is thin enough, your SOS broadcasts will be detected, and rescue may find you."
Sweetie galloped over to it, but stopped at the threshold. She expected cold to seep through from that featureless nothing beyond, maybe the strained whispers of damned ponies from outside time and space. Instead, she heard nothing, felt nothing. Only silence.
"Find Scootaloo, get her to safety," Sweetie said. "I can do that. Carry her out of here. What's the point of making my body so strong if I don't use it?"
The nurse touched her shoulder, not strong enough to hold her in place. "That is not what I said. The other pony with you is already badly injured. Her heartbeat is weak, her breathing is slow. She will not survive until rescue no matter what you do."
Sweetie tore free of the nurse's grip, glaring. "I'm not giving up on my marefriend. I don't care how bad it looks."
Before the fake pony could protest, she leapt through the barrier.
Sweetie fell, but not down some bottomless pit into cold oblivion. It took her down a short distance, directly into her body. She landed so hard that one of her limbs went flying, and her metal superstructure bent. Except—that wasn't really from a fall.
She lit up her horn again, illuminating her dark surroundings. Stone crushed down around her, barely high enough to sit up. Scootaloo lay on her side before her, in a thin pool of blood. The fake nurse was right about one thing—her friend was hurt. She'd never seen a pony so injured before.
Even so, she wasn't hurt badly enough that she couldn't look up. The mare opened one eye, turning her neck weakly in Sweetie's direction. "Oh, h-hey. Thought you got... thought you were dead."
Blood trickled from her lips, and her words came raspy. "Glad I was wrong. You're not.... broke? Guess robots can't die."
"Neither will you." Sweetie crawled forward, leaving a trail of something that wasn't blood behind her. One hind leg was missing entirely, trailing wires and broken metal joints. If she could feel pain, that alone would probably stop her advance completely. But being mechanical did give her some advantages.
"There's a hole next to me," Scootaloo whispered. "Tried to... reach it. But I can't. You should get out. Maybe you can... bring help."
Sweetie stopped in front of her, inches from her face. Scootaloo's hot breath came with blood this time, splashing up against her coat. "You won't last that long, Scoots. We have to get you out now."
The mare laughed, or she tried to. More blood emerged from her lips, and her already sluggish motions slowed further. How much pain could one pony endure? Moving her would be worse.
"Not sure if... that's possible," her marefriend whispered. "It was a long way down here. Long way back to Ponyville. Unless the landslide taught you to teleport..."
She leaned in close, touching her forehead up against Sweetie's. "Get yourself out of here safe. We knew you were gonna live forever, and I wasn't. This just... came a little sooner, that's all."
"No." Sweetie pressed up against her, easing Scootaloo through the opening. It wasn't easy, but the dust and blood helped lubricate her movement.
The cave-in extended up what had once been a slope into the tunnels above. Even so, Sweetie's horn illuminated what she thought was a clear path leading upward. If her power lasted long enough, she could take it.
Once there was enough space, she squeezed under Scootaloo's torso, then lifted her over her back. The mare hung limply there, barely moving, barely breathing. Carrying another pony with one missing leg wouldn't be easy, let alone through a broken tunnel.
She would do it anyway, or die trying.