Chapter 15. Doors Best Left Closed
So that had been the Celestial Body Simulator Emergency Control Room? Antiquated equipment designed to control the simulated moon and sun of our sky dome, not that I actually knew what the sun was, other than it being a round version of Luna that appeared during the day. Nothing in the room had seemed to warrant its door being welded shut. I could think of two alternative reasons to weld up a door - to indicate to repair and service personnel that what was beyond didn't warrant any attention, or to stop the surface ponies from stripping the place. That was a valid reason, because somepony had certainly taken a good portion of the materials used to build the staircase itself.
So, next on the list to explore was what was behind the door labeled 'dva p'ns eve'nt Labo'ies'. Eve'nt Laboratories? It would do as a name for the moment, although the gap between 'eve' and 'nt' was several letters in length. Maybe there would be more clues inside the room. I offered my hoof to the door scanner and was rewarded with the same results as the previous time, approval, then a request for maintenance, so I tackled the required remedial work the same way too, and kicked the door until the welds that held it sealed broke, allowing the door to swing open. Crude, but effective!
I stepped through into the dimly lit area beyond. It wasn't really big enough to be considered a room. In fact it was more like an air-lock, complete with a more substantial door in front of me. This door was like that on the biomass processing facility: more of a hatch than a door. If this really was some sort of air-lock, or high security arrangement, the door through which I had just passed needed to be closed again before I would be able to open this one. I closed the door I had battered open, and with a few well placed kicks, managed to get it more or less back into a functional shape. That done, I presented my hoof to the scanner on the inner door. There was no messing about, announcements or anything, and the door immediately opened. The passing any of the check/pass routine such scanners usually put me through puzzled me. Perhaps it was enough that I had qualified at the first scanner and this one merely verified it was the same pony and opened the inner door.
Beyond the inner door, it was better lit than everywhere else down here, but, by no means, well lit. Nonetheless, it clearly had a better power feed than the previous room had. I could even see in color again! I stepped through the doorway, and was surprised when the hatch immediately closed behind me. Hopefully I wasn't trapped! I had managed to leave the other facility with such a door without difficulty, so it was probably just a matter of finding the switch to open it. In the mean time, I let my eyes wander over the massive array of equipment that was down here. Racked cabinets with meters, dials, gauges, switches and more knobs than I had ever seen in one place covered the walls, arching over, giving the impression they were trying to shield the room from outside forces, or try to bend down to offer their faces to a lowly (and short) pony within. Tanks and benches filled the space in between. A door at the far end of the room led to presumably more of the same. I took a few steps forward.
"A feesitur! It is sooch a lung teeme seence ve hefe hed a feesitur," a voice announced within my head. Oh. My internal adrenaline meter jumped up a bit. So did I, probably.
"Indeed! Ve hefe a noo soobject veet vheech tu pley. It hes beee tuu lung."
Make that two voices, not that I could understand either of them. Was this a different language? It had been a long time since any pony had been down here, after all. Perhaps ponies spoke different languages a long time ago. And that led to the very valid question: who, or what was speaking anyway? I seemed to be alone, and these voices were in my head, much like with my comms unit, and the scanners. That implied an automated system of some sort, a computer, or at the very least, a repurposed unicorn's horn or two.
"Cume in sveeteee. Let us get a better luuk et yuu," once voice enticed.
No, it wasn't a different language. The written word was still the same, at least it had been where not deliberately erased, like on the front door of this place. I cast my eye over some of the equipment, and picked out recognizable words labeling the various knobs and dials. Yup, same language, different pronunciation or dialect.
"Dun't be shy. Cume in und intrudooce yuoorselff," the voice crooned.
Well, that statement I certainly understood, despite the extreme lilt. Epiphany! Centuries of gradual variation had occurred in the pronunciation of the language. Despite sounding different, we were using the same words, and sentence structures! Admittedly the latter was a little surprising, considering how much other historical information had been lost. I took a few steps forward, scanning the racks of equipment for anything that looked like a pony, a scanner or a computer. I couldn't see any.
"I am Aneki," I spoke into the room, unsure of who I was addressing, or even where they were hiding themselves. "You can see me. Perhaps you could return the favor and show yourself." I made no attempt to mimic their accent.
"Ooh deer, she duesn't speek oooor lungooege," one voice stated.
"Yes she dues, boot veet sooch un evffool eccent," the other replied.
"You're the ones with the bloody awful accent," I interjected. "Language has moved on, and a long way at that, too, by the sounds of you two."
"Vhet is she oon ebuoot noo? I deedn't understund a vurd ooff thet."
"I deed, boot it is certeeenly nu vey tu huld a cunferseshun veet a tist soobject. Ve reelly moost hefe cleerer cummooneekeshuns iff ve ere tu get guud feedbeck."
"Now wait a minute," I interrupted. That had sounded way too close to 'test subject' for my liking. I was about to raise my objections when... OUCH! Something had just stabbed me in the butt! Well, it stabbed somewhere around there. The area went numb before my mind could precisely recognise their target. I looked back in time to see mechanical arm retreating rapidly into an alcove in the gloom of the ceiling, a syringe in its manipulator. Luna, how old was the crap they had just injected into me? And what the hell else was hiding up in those dark alcoves.
"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, suddenly feeling a little unstable. Sensation and strength were ebbing from my body. Oh, you had to be kidding. I had walked from the lab of one set of bastards who had no problem with experimenting on me, straight (okay, not quite so straight) into the lab of another pack of unethical pricks that were about to do the same to me. The drug was quick acting and I wilted to the floor, but remained conscious and alert. That was unexpected. Yay. At least I could call them names.
"Du nut puneec. ve veesh tu leern yuoor lungooege," one of the disembodied voices said to me.
"Screw you, you bastards. You didn't have to drug me to do that!" I seethed.
"Ve cen nut hefe yuoo thresheeng ebuoot, oor mufeeng dooreeng zee prucess. Noo huld steell," the voice requested. Hold still? It wasn't as if I had any other choice, was it? This blasted drug had well and truly nobbled me.
"You must be pretty dumb. I seem to be grasping most of what you idiots are saying!" I spat back, "So why can't you pricks understand me?"
"Vhet hes oooor leettle soobject su upset?" the other voice asked. This was the voice that didn't seem to have any clue to what I was saying.
"She cleeems she cen understund us," the first replied.
"Und yuoo cen understund her?" the other wondered.
"Epperently."
Great, I had been nabbed by a pair of comedians.
"Noo huld steell," the voice requested again as another black implement descended from the horrors of the ceiling, aiming straight for my head, the one bit of me that was not 'protected' by the black shell, not that it had helped when the jabbed me in the behind. Oh, you had to be kidding me... There was another bit of me that wasn't protected too. They'd gone straight for the 'soft spot' that couldn't be armored while maintaining functionality. The pricks!
The manipulator grabbed me by my head, moving my mane and exposing my bony nub... horn.
"Ooh, thees oone hes zee megeecs!"
"Boot zeey du nut vurk. Her hurn hes beee deescunnected by thuse evffool inheebiturs."
"Let mee see, let mee see. Eh heer ve gu. Cuncucshun seexty fuoor, ferseeun feefe hes zee ebeelity tu recunnect hurns."
"Vhet ebuoot seede iffffects?"
"She veell geeen eccess tu megeec egeeen."
"Boot thet is nut a seede iffffect! It is zee preemery poorpuse ooff Cuncucshun seexty fuoor, ferseeun feefe!"
"Eh, here ve gu, ve ifeen hefe sume ooff it lefft!"
Another (or was it the same) manipulator with a syringe dropped from the ceiling, this time aimed at my head. I felt it poking around my horn, a stab, then massive pressure as the contents of the syringe were emptied into my noggin. OUCH, that hurt. Now if I had understood what the comedy duo of mad scientists were on about, they had some way to, ooeer, that hurts, some way to reactivate my, my, my, horrrrrrrnnnn.
"Water."
"Fluid."
"Drink."
"Cup."
I think the pain must have got a bit much. I recalled how much my legs had ached over the early days of their transformation. Having that all concentrated at the one part of a unicorn's body with the most intimate connection to the brain had overwhelmed me.
"Glass."
"Mug."
Hang on a moment, what was going on here?
"Plate."
"Bowl."
"Food dispenser."
It seemed like by mind was being interrogated. They'd show an image, and I'd provide the word, or in this case, pronunciation. Why I had to be disable for this, I didn't know. Perhaps they didn't want me walking off due to boredom. It was painfully slow and inefficient.
"Oh, no you don't," I said. I'd had enough of this one-way transfer. The image repeated itself. I wanted this ability to rip languages from other's minds. It could come in rather convenient for conversing with other mysteries I may find buried below us. Oh, was that how they were doing it? It was a sort of code that tied into the fabric of the universe itself. Oh, I see, if I changed that word, and rearranged these two statements, I'd be in control here. And that block of code is awful! Optimized, you could speed up the process a hundredfold.
Concentrating on morphing the code to what I wanted, I turned their interrogation back on themselves, made the tweaks to the code I had visualized, and within moments had managed to rip their language from their minds, sorted the personal variants, and stored it safely in my own language centers. A few more tweaks and I was able to stuff my own language into their minds, or whatever it was they were using. Well, dialect, not language, but the process was designed to deal with language, so it would serve my purposes later. As for this pair of jokers, I still hadn't seen anypony, and I wasn't entirely sure I was dealing with ponies anymore. Actually, I'd never really had any idea what these mad scientists really were.
"Whoa, she's a bright one! We've got her trussed up and drugged, and only just repaired the connections between her horn and brain, and she has already stolen our spell and turned it back on us!" one of the voices said. Now, that was better. I could understand them perfectly.
"At least we can now communicate, you bastards," I muttered.
"Pardon? You don't sound too pleased," the other voice observed.
"You think?" I spat. "You capture me and hold me against my will, then start experimenting on me."
"But.... but... we gave you the magics!"
"For that, I thank you, perhaps. But all the same, you did so without asking me, just like the magic was taken from me without me even knowing I had it in the first place. And just like this body that was forced on me, again without anypony asking me."
"Those magic stealing inhibitors are such nasty little modifiers, aren't they? Those were designed by politicians, not scientists, so they could control their subjects. They felt they couldn't risk having any more unicorns wandering about."
"So you know about these things, obviously," I commented.
"Of course, sweetie, they have been around... forever... It seems like forever. "
"In fact, you can manipulate this magic stuff, which would imply you are unicorns, or have access to unicorn horns. And in this case, I suspect your forever and their forever are the same," I said darkly.
"Yes, she is a bright one, isn't she?"
"Yes, yes. She may take our secrets." Now there was an idea! I could modify the language spell to interrogate them further. All I would need to do would be to become as unethical as those I despised.
"Okay, here's a question for you, if you've been around forever. What is the name of this place?" I wondered if they predated the vandalism of the name of H'ven.
"Well, that's an embarrassing question, sweetie," one said. Now I was having trouble keeping track of which was which.
"We don't know," the other admitted, a tad sheepishly.
"Somepony or something successfully erased all records of it long before our time."
"There has been much discussion between us on the subject."
"We have plenty of free time, you see." That, I had the feeling, was the understatement of the millennium.
"But we have been calling it H'ven, based on the remains of some name-plate or sign, the only 'evidence' of it that remained."
"So you have no more idea than we do," I muttered. "We call it H'ven too. Some think it is 'Heaven', while others think it is 'Haven', but no pony knows."
"What do you think it is?"
"I think it is a meaningless name derived from corrupted data. It's rather like the sign on your outer door," I explained. "Let me spell it out for you: dva p'ns eve'nt Labo'ies. And if I was to tread it in the same way as how H'ven got its name, this place would be the 'Eve'nt Laboratories'."
The voices laughed.
"And while we are on the subject of ancient dialects and broken signs, what I don't get is how you two had such an ancient dialect, while the scanner to your door was quite up to date, especially considering no pony has been down here in a very, very long time."
"It's been at least a dozen centuries, sweetie," one confirmed my suspicions.
"As for how the door scanner knows your language and dialect, it is pretty simple. It uses a spell, much like we were using on you to learn them, to extract the words it needs to use directly from your brain. That way it is always up to date."
"What about you two? I assume it is two," I asked. "What are you, and how have you survived this long?"
"We are ponies, sweetie, just like you." Yeah, right. Twelve hundred year old ponies? I didn't think so.
"Or more accurately, we were ponies just like you." Now, that I was more open to believing.
"When we were sealed in here to die, we were forced to take desperate measures."
"We pickled ourselves."
"Embalmed ourselves."
"Hooked our brains up to the equipment in this room."
"Reinforced them with modifiers so they wouldn't rot."
"Sweet Luna, you're computers!" I realized.
"No, no, we are ponies," the voices insisted.
"So are our computers," I responded. "Computers are nothing more than the brains of dead ponies preserved with modifiers, and sealed in unbreakable boxes so we don't learn the dirty little secret."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that," I insisted.
"I've never thought about it that way. We still have bodies, but yes, in a way, you are correct. We are sealed in our little coffin, our lives supported by magic and modifiers."
"So where are you then?" I asked.
"Right in front of you, Sweetie," one answered. Right in front of me was one of those tanks. It was certainly big enough to hold a pony or two.
"Both of you, in that one tank?"
"Indeed. Can you imagine centuries isolated in separate tanks? We would have gone mad!" I didn't think the time together had prevented that.
"Or perhaps we were already mad," one offered. Thank you!
"True, true. So scared of us they were, that they sealed us in here to die, after all." Did they mean mad-insane or mad-angry, I wondered.
"So, this is your prison and grave? What did you do to deserve a death sentence?" I asked, realizing immediately that some questions are best left unasked.
"We had created new modifiers, a craft that has been illegal for as long as history recalls. Concoction sixty four, version five gave us our magics back, and that scared them."
"And concoction ninety two, version eight, never tested on a pony, had them running for their pointy sticks and knives."
"And welders."
"Yes, yes, the welders. Being welded into a room is most unpleasant. Especially when they cut the power."
"It's a good thing we were able to cobble together an alternate feed, or we would have died as they intended."
"All the same, hasn't such a long incarceration been impossibly hard?" I asked. I wondered if they were going to force me to release them, if indeed they could be released.
"We get bored and put ourselves into hibernation. Your smashing away at the doors did disturb us, somewhat."
"So we woke ourselves so we could have a little fun!"
"And what about me? You called me a test subject. What was that about?" I asked. Them having fun, and me being immobilized did not sound like a great combination: not from my point of view, anyway.
"We have been waiting for a pony to test our new designs on for... a very long time, so no, you can't leave. Not yet anyway."
"And if I object?" I growled.
"It could make for some unpleasant conversation, but otherwise change nothing. We suggest you cooperate, sweetie."
I had to reactivate the language spell in order to stuff the cuss words I was using into their brains. I couldn't have them miss the finer points of being called.....
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Damn tranquilizers! Worse than the upper arm grab!
Uh oh. 12 centuries? Holy cow ... something definitely went wrong here! This story keeps getting more interesting. Hmm ... what's she going to find herself with by the time she gets out of here...
And who built this thing in the first place?
Wait, what? So, um, if she doesn't know what the sun is... how do day and night work then, on the surface of H'ven?
As I already remarked in the last chapter, yup. This is really mysterious. Almost as if someone has actively been suppressing all that knowledge, in fact
Not really... if the hoof scanner outside worked the same as the previous scanner she encountered, which is quite plausible, it wouldn't have given access to surface ponies.
I'd go with "advanced weapons development laboratories", personally
Sure looks like a bad comedy duo sketch
Oh my. Is she going to get her magic restored?
Well, that is a pretty nice side effect
My guess, they hacked into your brain and are studying your vocabulary
...
Eeyup
...I think she just figured out magic!
Ohh dear. That means the current stagnation has been going on at least that "dozen centuries" they mentioned... and most likely a lot longer
While you're at it, see if you can't go a bit deeper and find out how to open the door. Morality has clearly been thrown into a dark room with the door welded shut behind it, anyway
4316763
Bright sky with ambient illumination. Dark sky with crescent moon and stars.
That does assume it is coded with the same parameters as the others. Besides, she's just musing theories. None of her musings are to be taken as fact.
4318593
Oh, I know that. This is just my thoughts while reading through, not criticism
4321668
Keep it up. One of these days, you are going to find a plot hole that I've missed
4321677
My modus operandi when it comes to plot holes is to somehow twist them so they not only become perfectly true, but the reason why they CAN be true is also so horrible no one reading it would ever have thought of it
It took me way too long to get around to reading this.
Yay for more new interesting puzzles.
Also,
I think you meant "knew" there.
Hmmmm, can Central track her movements through the vibrations in the structure? They located that last hatch pretty quickly.
An old system that has either fallen into disrepair yet marginally functions in a deranged state. Or two brains that are self-aware and have gone insane.
Right in the cooter, or a little higher and in the anus. Heh. That would cause a bit of puckering.
How does she know "magic code" now? The first it has seemed she has seen it was when inspecting the broken food unit.
pre11.deviantart.net/6fc9/th/pre/f/2011/229/9/e/photo_finish_vector_by_kooner01-d46utw3.png
How the fuck...? Just how old is the backup room for the sun and moon? Constantly rebuilding everything doesn't seem efficient, there must be some existing facilities from when the generation sphere was first created.
That is a bright stroke of luck that she would run into these two. Hell... if she can connect their systems to other parts of the ship, she could help "free" them. Then again... it would be best to have an override solution to that effort as well. Can't have a bunch of crazies running a ship. Also, just what does 92 Ver. 8 do?
Massive cunts. Although, their experiments give back abilities. So... hopefully they are good, even if unethical.
6373921
They can, but the two most likely to come looking are a) dead or b) tied up in investigations relating to (a).
I expect you know the answer to this one by now.
She called them pricks for a reason.
She read the code they were using.
This room is as old as the sphere.
There is a later chapter devoted to it.
Here's a crash course.