“Mechanical separation of hemispheres,” said a technician, checking a bank of lights. “Shielding disengaged.”
Sehr gut, thought Schwarzwalder Fuchs to himself as he examined the counter. Even before implosion, each plutonium half responded energetically to the neutrons emitted by the other half. Responded well … perhaps too well …”
“Woops!” said Dr. Finemare. “Wow, that’s a bit hotter than we predicted!”
Smartass! flashed through the mind of the Lippanzer-Evelander expatriate. Finemare was always leaping for the spotlight. Though her constant probing at security is very useful, Fuchs allowed. If she stopped annoying Green Groves, the General might instead pay more attention to…
As if the thought had been a switch, the General himself spoke.
“Do we abort?”
Of course not, dummkopf, thought Fuchs angrily. The device can’t possibly go critical without the halves in actual contact. Always it is the stupid military who must run everything, both in Eveland and here in Amareica …
“Continue,” said Oppenhorser. “Just a small surge.”
Fuchs was not sure of Oppenhorser. His heart was in the right place, but he loved his status as a respected scientist. Even had it not been against procedure, he would not have trusted him.
But he was glad that Oppenhorser had made the right decision. Fuchs wanted the device to work. If it didn’t work; if it couldn’t work; then all his efforts had been for nothing –both those for Eveland, and those for his real masters.
Finemare and Oppenhorser started joking about burning the atmosphere. That was of course scientifically absurd: light elements couldn’t support a fission chain reaction. They were just doing it to terrify everyone in the room.
The countdown reached zero. A technician threw a switch.
For a timeless moment, everything was still.
Then something exploded invisibly inside Fuchs’ head, and the stocky ivory-coated stallion collapsed in a heap.
Given that this happened at almost the exact moment that the bunker was suddenly bathed in the light of a thousand suns, nobody noticed the unconscious scientist until the test was over.
“Dr. Fuchs … Dr. Fuchs?”
Someone was shining a light in his eyes. He opened them, blinking blearily … but there was something wrong about the motion of his eyelids. Something sluggish.
He tried to speak, to ask “What happened?”
For a moment nothing happened. Then his lips moved, and he heard himself say:
“Oh, that’s annoying.” The light switched off. “What happened to me?”
Fuchs felt a moment of sudden panic. This was not what he had meant to say!
“You fell unconscious – right at the moment the Device went off.” It was General Green Groves. He sounded concerned. “How are you feeling now?”
“Oh, just a little woozy,” came his voice calmly. “Must have fainted from all the excitement.”
Fuchs was terrified. The voice was his – and he could feel his mouth and voicebox move as he spoke – but not a single word had he spoken of his own voluntary intent! It was as if his body were a puppet, being operated by some unseen strings.
“Hmm,” grunted Green Groves. “Well, you’d better get to the infirmary, get checked up. Could be something serious.”
“Could it be some horrible unknown effect of hard radiation!” Fuchs’ voice said in a mock-spooky tone. “Or even demonic possession?”
Dr. Finemare snickered from behind Green Groves.
General Green Groves glared angrily at Finemare, then sourly at Fuchs. “Nurse Raindew!” he called.
“Yes, General?” Raindew was a cute light-pink pony, her mane a deep red, her body slim and athletic. She was known to be one of the kindest of the Army nurses attached to the Project.
Under normal circumstances, Fuchs would have welcomed a chance to spend some time under her care. Under these circumstances, he felt absolutely terrified.
“Get this joker over to the infirmary, and make sure he gets a complete physical. I want to see him kept there for at least a day. If this is some weird side effect of the Device, then I want to make sure it doesn’t spread. And if he’s just being a fool, he can have some time to think twice before wasting my time again.”
With some assistance from Finemare and Raindew, Fuchs’ body struggled shakily to its hooves. It felt strange – thoughts ran through his head without his calling upon them, muscle memories triggering, and no control over any of it from his conscious mind. It was not precisely as if his body was being worked like a puppet – more as if his brain were, with his consciousness a helpless observer during the process.
He found his body walking outside, with one mare on either side. His head swung around. He could see a huge, slowly-dissipating mass of black smoke towering miles-high into the sky from the direction of the Device.
It worked! he crowed inwardly, elation at the long-desired success momentarily-overwhelming his horror at his inability to control his own body.
Yes, looks like it did, said a sardonic Voice within his head. Wonder if you stupid ponies will use it to blast yourselves back to the Stone Age? Ah well, we can always hope …
Fuchs reeled. Or he would have, if he had been in control of his own bodily motions. Instead, his consciousness reeled inside his head. Suddenly, the part of the joke about demons didn’t seem quite as funny.
Who are you? What are you? Fuchs shouted in his own mind. Demon? No, that can’t be right, religion is the opiate of the masses. Alien? Yes, you must be some sort of alien, drawn here by the signature of the test!
Oh, so many questions, replied the Voice. Demon? Alien? That’s all a matter of perspective – or terminology -- now isn’t it? It’s not as if your concept of “aliens” is all that much closer to the truth than the concept your kind had of “demons” a few millennia ago.
You may call me – D. The Voice almost purred with amusement, like some sort of large and dangerous cat. And yes, to both your questions as to my nature. I am what you ponies would once have called a “demon” – and I’m certainly not from around here, so I’m also an “alien.” Does that put your mind at ease?
It most certainly did not. Fuchs felt his every concept of normality, of sanity – of reality itself – shake within him.
Oh no, D said. Can’t have you going mad – not yet. I need your mind all nice and … yuch … well-organized, for as long as I need to be you. Which may be for some time longer, so – be sane!
Abruptly, the shaking stopped. Fuchs was remarkably calm.
You don’t know how much I hated to do that, D continued. Driving ponies mad is more my preferred métier. But as long as I’m limited to a mere pony form … well, one makes do.
Nurse Raindew led them into the infirmary. There, she performed some preliminary checks on his heartbeat and blood pressure, had his eyes track a light, and called for a doctor.
Fuchs noticed that his body and voice were being run much better now. What’s more, the tone of his voice – which had previously sounded something like the sardonic Voice in his mind – was returning to normal. Is that D thing somehow learning to operate me?
Precisely, D said. It’s not as if your body is all that complex. Compared to some … you should see a Krell, or even a Velantian.
Why are you here? Are you spying on our planet’s atomic secrets?
D guffawed.
Spying on – oh, that’s rich. That’s hilarious. For so many reasons.
Fuchs didn’t see why the idea was funny.
And you’re supposed to be one of the brighter members of your species, D commented drily. First of all, my little Uplifted eohippus, let me assure you that your kind knows nothing about nuclear energy that would be at all useful to any race capable of traveling between the stars – even those primitive species which still need to do it in spaceships. As for weapons, in my true form I could command energies utterly-dwarfing your little rub-two-sticks-together and spark-into-tinder Device. And I could do that without the need for my equivalent of tools.
Fuchs shuddered at the implications. The alien … demon … whatever it was, might be bluffing, but then, it might be telling the truth. There was certainly no pony equivalent of whatever technique it had used to take him over, mind and body, in an instant.
Why would I even bother to lie to you? asked D. Oh, right, because it might be amusing. It must be no fun to be you right now. Glad I’m not.
The casual sadism of this statement was utterly appalling to Fuchs, the more so because he was entirely at this creature's mercy.
The second reason what you said was funny, though, is that if I had come here to spy on your quaint native arts and crafts project, I would have come here for the exact same reason that you came here. Which is probably why you thought of it. Projection – D said with dramatic mock-sadness. It’s so ugly a defense.
Fuchs was offended.
I’m watching the Project to preserve the peace! he objected. The Amareicans and Evelanders are ruled by capitalist overlords who would enslave the peace-loving ponies under the benign historic leadership of Comrade Steellion! We need the Device not to make, but to deter war – for self-defense!
Blah, blah, blah, replied D. Say it to someone who actually cares about your planet’s stupid religious wars. You’re both wrong, anyway. If you knew the real origins and purpose of your universe, you’d go mad, and as I’ve mentioned before, I need you sane … for now.
But the third reason why your projective paranoia is so funny is that you were actually right about one thing, and that one thing in particular I thought you might find it amusing to know. D stopped.
Somehow, Fuchs felt that D was waiting expectantly. But he also felt that knowing what D meant might important.
What’s the third reason? Fuchs asked.
Why I came, explained D. It’s not that your toy of a Device attracted me, it’s more that it opened the gate for me. You see, your cute little plutonium sphere released enough energy to rip a very tiny hole through spacetime between where I was – and where you are. So in a sense, you did bring me here.
D paused, and chuckled.
Just thought you’d like to know the part you’ve played in all of this, he said, in a voice dripping with insincere solicitude. Just thought that you’d like to know that you’ve helped bring about the end of your world.
D laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
And Fuchs was very sorry, now, that he couldn’t go mad.