“By the Maker, another one?!”
I watched with ashen detachment as my past self went through an all-too-familiar procedure. He took the 'trouble-maker' aside – this time a Crystal Pony with a chip on his shoulder about the way he was running things – cast the spell on the hapless victim. Moments later there was only one will in the room, only one real person left; the other was no more than a puppet. Sombra's standard for what constituted a 'trouble-maker' was becoming a rather arbitrary and vague, of course. At first it was only the very worst criminals, the ones who showed no remorse for breaking the law and would continue to break it if given the chance – no, the irony was not lost on me, thank you – but his newest mind-slave's only crime was to lead a protest against weaponizing the Crystal Heart.
“Yes,” I muttered resignedly, “another one.” I turned away as my past self gloated, patting the new slave on the head as if he was a pet, and sent him off to do his bidding. The Crystal Pony would soon rejoin the rest of the protesting group, and over the next few months he would sabotage their efforts from the inside. The new slave would stir up infighting and fuel rivalries on one hoof, while pushing for more and more violent acts of protest on the other. Eventually, he planned to have the slave plan out a full-blown act of terrorism. He and whoever remained to follow him would be caught before they could pull it off, of course – Sombra wouldn't let them do any real damage to the city, and that would bolster the citizens' faith in the police force. The damage to the group's reputation, however, and anyone associating with their beliefs and goals, would be catastrophic. Such tactics had become commonplace for the unicorn, and the city was finally starting to move in the direction he wished.
“Now, off you go, my little street urchin,” my past self chuckled, leering unpleasantly as the protestor went off to do the will of his master. “Perhaps I'll free you once you're safely in prison... though, I suppose that's not very likely. I could always do with more eyes and ears to monitor the criminal underworld, and what better place to do that than among the criminals?”
The Crystal Pony nodded eagerly, grinning like a fool, but caught himself and put on a hard, dissatisfied look and stomped out of the room – the very image of a disaffected, rebellious youth. Sombra, meanwhile, sighed and stepped out of his office a few moments after, shaking his head and affecting a patient, paternal air, and trying very hard not to smirk. “Hopefully he'll grow out of it,” he said for the sake of the guards flanking his door – the room was magically sound-proofed, so he wasn't worried about what they might have heard from inside – and walked down the halls with the dignity and poise befitting his position. Despite his grim and serious demeanor, however, he was practically walking on clouds. Everything was going his way for once; his name had spread through the City as a just and fair advisor, speaking with the Duchess's authority and acting as her mouthpiece whenever she was too busy to bother with the Affairs of State. His newfound fame and respect was helped along, of course, by mentally dominating the heads of all the major newspaper outlets, but he wouldn't let that little detail sully his mood. He also ignored the fact that much of the peace and cooperation among the governing bodies and factions was mostly due to the same control over the leaders of the selfsame factions and governing bodies, using them to lead those under their command to whatever goal he chose. But best of all – and for this one he at least had some justification for his vanity – the Crystal Heart, as it was now being called, was fully operational and ready for its first test run.
I, meanwhile, was repetitively thumping my head on the ground, too tired to vent my frustration with words. I'd stopped trying to justify what I'd done; as I saw more and more memories revealed, not even 'for the greater good' could excuse my wrongdoings. It had become abundantly clear that I had only cared for my own personal power and prestige, and any obstacles – be they objects, ideas, or ponies – were dealt with swiftly and severely, and most likely permanently.
“How many lives did you destroy, Sombra?” Luna asked harshly, the silence growing too long as it became clear I had no more to say on the matter. “How many ponies did you afflict with that vile curse?”
I halfheartedly thumped my head against the floor a few more times before finally giving it up. “At least two hundred and fifty four, by my last count,” I snorted, still laying on the floor and staring at nothing in particular. “But don't worry – I'm sure we'll have an accurate figure by the end.”
“This is no laughing matter!” she said sharply. It was her turn to glower, but I just looked up at her with mild amusement – truth be told, I was glad for the distraction. Anything to get my mind off the terrible deeds of my past. “Don't you see what you did to them?!”
“Of course I see what I did to them,” I muttered bitterly. “Why do you think I've been trying to concuss myself for the past hour?” It had, of course, been a rather pointless endeavor, which quickly became apparent after the vigorous initial attempts resulted in no more than boredom. It seemed pain and damage weren't actually possible in that mindscape – but, I reasoned, it was the thought that counted.
She snorted, apparently unimpressed by my self-flaggelation. “What, exactly, did you seek to accomplish? Had you succeeded in this ill-conceived attempt, you'd have only made yourself simple. Your guilt would remain.”
I snorted defiantly. “Why should I have to remember all these horrible things when I'm not the person who did them?” I asked simply, glowering. There was no way I was anything like that monster, I thought. “I thought I wanted to know... Isn't it funny? I wanted to know so bad before. Now, I just want to forget. I'm sure I learned a decent memory spell at some point, and when that memory comes back... I'm gone.” I blinked, wondering if it would hurt... Would it be like an oblivion? Would I just stop existing, and another 'person' exist in my place? I didn't know... But I was sure it was better than the knowing.
She stared at me, and for a moment I wondered if she was going to snap. “...After all this, you're just going to go and forget it all again? Why the BUCK did you unlock all this in the first place, if you were just going to undo it all!?” It was her turn to bang her head against the wall. She gave up more quickly than I did, however, and took several calming breaths. But despite my hopes that she'd blast my mind away herself, she regained her composure all too quickly. “That won't work,” she continued, calm and rational once more. “If you thought about it for a moment, you'd know why. You couldn't live without knowing the truth before; and now that you know the truth, you claim that you can't go on knowing it. Even if you stripped away everything you've remembered, you'd just be in the former situation, seeking the latter. No matter your state, you'd always seek the opposite; you would never be satisfied, never be at peace, and you would constantly be driven to desperate madness by your own mind. That. Won't. Work.”
I twitched, struggling to ignore her reasoning, but it was easier to just redirect the conversation. “Why should I have to remember the mistakes of someone who doesn't even exist anymore?” I asked dully, refusing to engage her.
She was implacable. “If 'he' did not exist any longer,” she said evenly, brushing her disheveled mane out of her eyes, “then you should have no issues remembering what he did; you would not share his guilt. If that was a different person's memories, you could live with them without suffering any personal condemnation. You can reason; if you really believe what you say, accept your reasoning and move on.” She glared at me, challenging. I met her gaze for a moment... then looked away. She snorted. “And there it is; your own heart betrays you. You do feel guilt over the memories, no matter how you try to rationalize it away, or deny it. The old Sombra isn't well and truly dead.” she said, nodding with self-satisfaction.
Damn her. I was heartily starting to wish that she hadn't walked through my memories with me, seeing what I was like... I could either admit that I wasn't a creature of logic, or I could admit she was right. Grinding my teeth, I climbed to my hooves and squeezed my eyes shut. “Just shut up,” I growled, “and let me watch. You owe me that much! It's YOUR fault I was so desperate in the first place – if you hadn't sent me there, I wouldn't have had any reason to do these terrible things!”
She blanched at that, and I watched with vicious satisfaction as I saw the barb strike home. So she did feel guilty about that – and it was fresh guilt, too, an old wrong freshly learned. Good. That would make things more even, at least.
“Time passes at a crawl in this place,” she said quietly, stiffly turning away, “and the memory surge has slowed to a trickle. I will leave you to your thoughts for now.”
And just like that, she was gone. I was alone with myself, left to watch my past march by like a hideous parade, alone and without support. With a cringe, I began to regret my decision... But quickly pushed that thought away. “Useless, interfering filly,” I growled, haunched over as I was left to watch by my lonesome.