“Why did you stop your research?” Textom the Invincible glared over the bare plates at him, her red eyes peering deep into the doctor's soul. Sometimes Frenzy wondered why he loved her.
“It wasn't working out proper...” The sentence died as Textom the Invincible raised her eyebrows at him.
“That's not what you had said before. You claimed that your research was working out wonderfully, with various successes and otherwise useful benchmarks of its usefulness.” Her anger transitioned to a more open emotion. Her red coat glimmered in the dim light of the candles.
“I’m sorry honey. I loved how happy your success made you. I’m not really one to talk. I haven't done all that much that I can really tell you about.” Frenzy shuddered. Textom’s work was not sort of thing which nice ponies did.
“Actually, are you sworn to secrecy to the Princesses as well?” he said. If there was a way out, he had to take it.
“Yes. Sometimes. You know that I can keep a secret.” Her rarely seen smile appeared once again. Sometimes Frenzy knew why he married this incredibly frightening mare. The sense of comfort was quickly replaced by the void of indecision. If he were to go through with it, as much as he trusts Textom, Frenzy knew that to go against the desires of the princesses was almost like, no, actually it was just treason.
“I can't really decide now. I trust you, but...” The words died off and Textom’s eyes became very hard.
“Trust can't be voluntary.” She said, before leaving the room. The dark blue unicorn sighed. There must be time for absolution later, there will need to be adjustments made in the meantime to account for the cowardice of indecision. There would be better ways to handle this kind of thing in the future, but at the moment, decisions needed making. And more importantly, he needed to comfort his wife. It would not do well for his wife to be the cause of his demise after all. He sighed again. There would be no easily sleep for him.
The glass was thick. Only a little thicker than most ponies. The thought came with a feeling of self-disgust.
Such thoughts were not suitable for the Princess of magic. Magic itself being related to the friendship and comradery which one feels with their fellows or subordinates, or really any form of life. To elevate oneself above the common ponies is to destroy yourself in their eyes. To think negatively of them for not having your abilities, or intelligence. To ever question the duty of either the strong or the smart to protecting the weak or the dumb is to willfully wish destruction on all of the loyal, loving subjects. But no, they are more than just subjects, they are potential friends, allies, or lovers. They are the potential for the development of the world, as are the peoples of other nations. All are to be respected for the chaos of life is preferable to the stasis of death. Even as a deathless being; living on a rock that was scoured clean by its own inhabitants sounds dreary.
But back to the glass. That was the interesting thing about this part of the castle. The rear parts. The ones that she had never known of, even while living inside the castle. The ones which the knowledge of was extended to the personel which worked in it and the princesses. Not Cadance though, she isn't quite right for the roles which the knowledge of it forces upon the knowing. The darkness of thousands of magical projects which in themselves merited secreting away from the citizen or denizen of Equestria. What would they do if they became aware that the power which their princesses used to maintain the world around them was also being used to make the weapons that none of them could even envision? They would know that there were ways to die that nothing on the world could possibly deserve.
More importantly, Twilight thought, they would know that there were ponies researching such abominable science, and from that would come the realization that they could potentially control a large portion of the world if they knew what existed.
The magic itself was more dangerous than Twilight had ever imagined possible. In the distance, in one of the many somewhat shielded cubicles that lined the interior of the mountain, she thought that she saw a burst of flame. After a second, lightning seemed to respond to the flame, mimicking it with unpleasant success.
Out of all the projects that would share the space inside the mountain, and find itself staring up at the two hundred meter tall cavern ceiling above it, there was only one that was connected directly to preserving life. And it was subject to the grander issue that all the others had; it would destroy utopia.
“Of all the thoughts and dreams that live in this place; only mine is concerned with saving life itself. Is it too great a cost?” She shook her head. “There is nothing that it would fail to wreck in time. It would ruin our fields and crowd our cities.”
But more importantly, it would make us nothing more than another example of immortal.
“I should talk to my friends again...” Twilight muttered. Three Months without contact. A year after you become a Princess, and you've already forgotten about them. It’s not your fault, it's the fault of the system. Just too much work.
What was she thinking? It was her fault. The sarcasm implicit in that thought was obvious enough, but the thoughts themselves were unlike her. Corrupt in a strong deviation from the sort that she was accustomed to. It was probably more about the work, there was a lot to be concerned or worried about as a Ruler. No wonder Celestia was so inscrutable. The sheer number of competing causes in her head pounded out at every decision that she made. Consideration for all ponies’ desires is not a good thing in a ruler. Indecision is the oblivion that endangers all around it.
It would be a good idea to visit her friends in Ponyville soon. The purple alicorn smiled. It was a good idea.
“I’m sorry, your highness, were you speaking to me?” The graying receptionist for the restricted projects area was only permitted as far as Twilight was at the moment. To go inside was not permissible. Receptionist was hardly the right term either; after all, nopony could get this close. Castle, if somepony reqested one of the various researchers, were instructed to ask her only after looking everywhere else. Concentric layers of secrecy have not failed the programs yet.
“No, but your dutyful consideration is well appreciated.” Though it does interrupt the train of thought.
The flickering florescent light underpinned the humming which pervaded the space. The ceiling that rose up forever, never reaching a visible terminus was rock. It was cold. The air was tinged with an unpleasant combination of rubbing alcohol and ozone. Suggesting a recent cleanup after some sort of unwholesome accident. The pervasive sense that this place was not only dangerous, but unnatural, completely removed any capability of Frenzy Idea’s team to concentrate.
“Does this mean that I finally get a raise?”
“Did sparklehauser really put us up to this?”
“Who in their right mind refers to Princess Sparkle as ‘Sparklehauser’?”
“Uh....”
“That’s what I thought. Anyway, we are going to continue our work, right?”
The darker unicorn felt that it was time to interrupt this interesting banter, mostly because he felt that he was the only one who knew the answer to this question. “Yes. We are here by the request of Princess Sparkle.”
“Why though? We were safe in the university. Probably more so than here.”
The dark blue unicorn sighed. “As much as I believe that you are right, we are here because our research is felt to be dangerous to society as a whole. I can’t quite place it, but Princess Sparkle has made herself very clear on this subject. I do not wish to be the one to defy her.”
“As much as I appreciate your desire to not defect from my will; you really don't have much to worry about. All I ask is for none of you to ever speak of your research again outside of this room, or with myself or another qualified official of the government. That is to say, me.”
“What about personal problems? Who do we talk to then?”
“I would imagine any of your friends. Just so long as you don’t mention the specifics, or the fact that you are working for me, it's okay.”
As quickly and abruptly as she entered, the princess of magic left the cubical. For some reason, the grey cubical suddenly felt very small.
“Who wants to get lunch?”
There was a conflagration of agreement before the cubical was once again left empty.The hum of the machines continued as though nothing had happened at all. The essence of peace had been shattered for all those who were present. Nothing save for the traditional lunch special at the university cafeteria would be enough to bring back a semblance of normality for the tortured academics.
If there was a time in which it was deemed acceptable to kill the ponies one was supposed to be protecting; this time would not be it. Unfortunately, as far as her employers were concerned; nopony in the team was considered an acceptable loss. Textom sighed. Her eyes gazed over the cafeteria, wondering what reason that her agency handed her this job. Apparently conflicts of interest weren’t valid enough reasons to hand it over to another, slightly less qualified mercenary.
The cafeteria was bustling. This is to be expected during the noontime hour at any given university; or anywhere else for that matter. Also to be expected are the influx of awkward college students. Though perhaps this is the cause of the bustling.
If anything, it was a “Target Rich” environment, Textom the Invincible thought, I wonder if my Agency would mind if I beat up a few college kids. She decided against it. At her level, it would be more like one of them beating up a colt in kindergarten. Despite the difference in skill, the one with the pimples and the cracking voice beckoned. She grimaced. Nothing good could come when she guards her own husband. She idly wondered who in their right mind would hire the agency for such a duty. Nopony cared about her husband; nobody who wanted to hurt him, nobody who wanted him dead, nobody who was jealous of him. He was a sad little colt.
That, however, was probably the irritation talking. Sometimes she wondered about him, but on a more average day, when she hasn’t watched him go up four times for chocolate milk, she could empathize more easily with his issues. Unfortunately her cognizance of her current condition did not render it any more amenable.
That college kid with pimples and the cracking voice has gone up for the chocolate milk eight times. It would be nice to take care of her frustration through the suitable surrogate which she sees in the boy, but that would likely have her thrown out of the Agency’s pool of available agents.
The laminate flooring here reflected the light of the fluorescent lights which provided a reasonable level of light. The student’s and faculties’s conversations mixed until at last it averaged to a constant buzz. The white and black tiling created strange fractals which seemed to resolve down into infinite tiling, appearing as a strange wrinkle in her vision. The floor, she decided, was not something to get lost in.
The room was almost empty. A brown janitor pony in blue overalls mopped the floor with an absolute diligence that would surely qualify him as the best at his job. Textom realized that she was had lost that touch today. Perhaps guarding her husband would be a lesson in nothing except handling boredom. For the first time Textom the Invincible, bodyguard to Fleur, perhaps half the royal family at various points, and vanquisher of Rolack the Duck, suddenly knew that war was boredom punctuated by terror. This appeared to be one of those run-on sentences.
The light bounced off the hanging picture in the cubicle, obscuring it to all eyes. If it had not been obscured, the research team would see a picture of Textom, smiling at a camera, presumably behind which stood Frenzy. The team would not know her. And if they did catch a peak of it as one of the lights flickered starlike overhead, there would be plenty of excuses.
That was, of course, the justification that Frenzy Idea used in his decision to move this picture to his... lab, if such a large cavern with a cubicle and insufficient lighting could really qualify as such.
It was not suitable for the nature of research that was being carried out.
The sounds of various creatures that should not exist carried through the lab every few minutes before being dispelled back into whatever plane they called their home. Occassionally, the lighting even flickered as one of the various containment aparati stuggled to contain something.
Every flicker of the lights caused a pause as they waited to seee if it would be the end of the world as they knew it. Thele lab equipment stood steady to the flickering. The displays held constancy in line as the various lines and movements completed their scans across the screens.
Although the team felt a sense that their project was out of place here; that the other researchers held them in disdain due to some variety of politics, but more importantly, it gave them purpose. Immense purpose. The highest purpose which they could imagine. Somehow, they remained deluded, believing that their technology would eventually see use in the populace.
They worked constantly, making more progress in a day than they had seen in a week. The antiseptic atmosphere, with the lingering certainty of containment breech became motivations for getting their research done as quickly as possible.
The lights continued humming after the team left, casting their light without caring about what they illuminate.