Mystic Rune
Joseph Kimball knew something was wrong when the water stopped flowing into his lab. It had taken him over a week to notice this—the secret channels cut into Alexandria’s water system far above had never been discovered, even after hundreds of years, and his lab was always the first to receive the water pumped from above. Joseph hardly ate anymore, but he still needed as much water as any other organic being.
Am I organic? I might want to consider that question at some point in the future.
Joseph Kimball had learned to prioritize, so he put that question aside as he made his way through the lab.
To say his laboratory was a part of Alexandria was a bit like saying the ISS was a part of whatever city it happened to be passing over. He was buried well over a mile under the surface, so far below the deepest parts of the University’s basements that not even the most sensitive unicorns there would sense what he was doing. Maybe an Alicorn would be able to find him, but Earth wasn’t drowning in those. Joseph didn’t worry.
Joe walked slowly through the central hallway that separated his work area from the supply warehouse, casually unraveling and then replacing a dozen different security spells as he passed. Truly, he hoped that nopony from the surface world would ever stumble down here. If they did, they would swiftly die a painful death.
The warehouse was just over five hundred feet tall, perfectly square with magically cut shelves in the walls of exactly perfect size. Flocks of steel birds flowed through the warehouse like a school of fish, filling the air with the sound of their propellers.
Joseph walked right up to a plasma-screen display set into a crystal pillar, and took a moment to appreciate the intricate lines of the preservation spell carved all around it. A single glowing line pulsed through the floor as he neared it, and the console connected with his central system. “Cloudy, I require water,” he said.
The image of a pony appeared on the screen, a still photograph of a pegasus he had known long ago. It did not move, and when it spoke it sounded more like Microsoft Sam pitch-shifted than it did the pony he missed. Joseph no longer remembered why this made him feel so sad. “I am sorry, Archmage. You used the last of your water exactly one hundred and fifty two years ago. Would you like ethanol instead?”
Joseph considered his response a moment. It would be simple enough to convert… but no. He couldn’t convert it from the air, he’d already drawn all the moisture he could. His coat felt dry and scratchy in the dry air, and his throat hurt. He could make do with a garden that had died, but sooner or later he would need to drink. “Very well,” he frowned. “What about emergency food?”
“You have one remaining can of green beans in preservation. That is all.”
He stiffened. “What about seeds? Don’t I have potatoes and wheat for the garden?”
“You have eaten all that, Joseph,” the voice said. “Your seed crop has been completely consumed. I am sorry.”
This was getting desperate. Joe didn’t waste time walking across the lab, he teleported, instantly appearing in the lab’s bathroom. It was dark, with a single glowing crystal that came on as he appeared. Joe leaned in to the mirror, inspecting his appearance for signs of damage.
It was difficult to say exactly what about him was damaged and what was natural for what he was doing to himself. No pony was supposed to live a thousand years, or longer. That gift had been wasted on their incompetent leader, who had wasted it getting killed over and over again. That spell Joe had never managed to crack.
So he looked like an old pony, right at the point where a pony started to lose strength and shrivel. He had done the latter, becoming as wrinkled as any ancient stallion, his mane and tale bleached to white so completely that not a single hair of any other shade remained.
There had been other changes, though. In places, he could feel his bones had almost… calcified, changing all the way to crystal. His sweat looked far more like oil than water, and in places his flesh was unusually hard. This conversion had been no spell, no single willing effort. It had happened naturally, as Joseph spent his entire life saturated in levels of magic that could’ve killed every human on Earth in seconds. He was, in his own estimation, the magical version of Fallout’s ghouls. And so long as my face doesn’t rot off, I’m fine with that.
Unfortunately, magic would not sustain him on its own. His diet and tastes changed, but he still needed to fill certain needs. But as he looked into the mirror, Joe saw no signs of damage. Whatever he’d done to himself through neglect, it had not yet become irreversible.
That was the worst thing about becoming… whatever this was. His body no longer knew how to heal itself. Each injury he sustained, even something as minor as a paper cut, would continue to hurt forever, until he designed a specific spell to repair the damage.
It was a good thing Joseph Kimball was the most powerful unicorn in the world.
Joe teleported himself into the lab, which was actually located in the very center of his secret compound. The crystal spire of the University tower far above had grown all the way into the ground here, a hollow cone pointing straight down at his lab and saturating it with enough magic that he could perform almost any spell with only modest effort. If any single thing was responsible for Joseph’s extended lifespan, it had been this room.
“Cloudy,” he said, approaching another screen. “Send a message to Alex. She’s up there, right? Tell her to fix the plumbing.”
“Alex,” the computer repeated. Well, computer might be a bit of a shallow term to describe this creation. It had been a rack of servers once, the same servers that had once held the Kimballnet. Many of those machines had been replaced with HPI substitutes, bought from their fabricators in Raven until the entire thing had been greatly supplemented by their power. That was where the magic came in. “Message protocol offline. No consoles presently exist on the surface that can receive your message.”
Nobody knew putting magic and technology together like Joseph. He groaned, stamping one hoof briefly on the ground. It sounded like someone dropping a lump of glass. “Dammit. Those… can’t even keep a damn city… fine. What can you tell me? What sensors are still working?”
“None,” came the response. “I am sorry, Archmage. All connection with the surface has been severed. The Acanum was the last exterior system to be linked into my network, and it is no longer connected. My last sensor records indicate it was physically destroyed approximately two months ago.”
“QUOI?!” Joseph swore loudly in French, paced about in front of the console, and threw several small objects in his magic that happened to be too close. He stalked past his main worktable, covered over with arcane scribblings. He stalked over to another console, one he could use to access exterior cameras. Joseph pushed his head up to the screen, and twisted the dial. Every single camera read “system offline.” Of course, those cameras had been sitting in place for literally hundreds of years. He hadn’t been up to maintain the spells keeping them working. Probably they were as dead as anything else.
“Dammit.” He stalked back. “Cloudy, why the fuck didn’t you tell me my exterior systems were being destroyed?”
“A previously registered command,” she answered, her words lacking anything that suggested emotion. “Exactly three hundred years ago. Your words were ‘Don’t tell me a goddamn thing about those imbeciles on the surface, I don’t care if they all burn in hell so long as—”
“Alright!” Joseph groaned, silencing her. “That will do, Cloudy. I’ll just… go up there. See what the hell is going on. Someone will know where that immortal got to. She can get my water back on. Keep the lights on for me.”
“Interpreting command… command accepted.”
Joe walked away from the console, passing through his lab. There was very little to encumber him here—clothing was a waste, it got in the way. But he’d worn clothing back when he was on the surface, and he would need it again.
His Archmage’s robe had been torn to pieces when he faked his death, so that was right out. An old lab coat hung on a hook near one wall, and he levitated that towards himself. The fabric had gone stiff and yellowed with age, cracking a little as he flexed it. Joe concentrated, reversing some of the time that had devoured the fabric, returning its threads to white flexibility with hardly any effort. Then he put it on, and the cloth dragged along behind him on the ground. Joseph was no longer nearly as tall as he’d once been. Age was a cruel mistress.
Teleporting to the surface was harder. Not because he lacked the skill or the energy, but rather because he lacked the courage. However brave he had acted for “Cloudy”, the real truth was that he was terrified of the surface. Its residents had never really understood him. The few who had… were gone now. Moriah was long dead, his children would be dead, his name would be gone. Joseph might not have died, but he might as well have for all that his fingerprints would remain on the surface world. Apparently something was going around destroying the magical systems he’d created as well, the ones that protected Alexandria and kept it running. Why on Earth would anypony want to do that?
His mind processed possibilities rapidly, augmented by the many mind-enhancing spells he kept running on himself at any one time. He settled on the most likely scenario: some sort of military coup. A faction against Alex was obviously trying to take over, and they’d started by finding a way to sabotage the city’s protective systems.
I’ll have to fix things again, like usual. That would be just typical.
Joseph wrapped himself about by a dozen different shielding spells, and drew enough power from the crystal above him to keep them running against attacks up to and including a direct nuclear strike on his head. Maybe the HPI would be involved… he wouldn’t let some careless accident on their part ruin his research. Joseph’s project must continue.
Eventually he did it, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and stepping forward. No clapping of air, no harsh void-wind as with less experienced teleportation. Joseph was a master, as skilled as any Alicorn. Suddenly, he wasn’t in his lab.
The city was in flames. Wooden structures had been burning so long they smoldered. Smaller buildings were long gone, consumed and then trampled away. The streets were broken or covered in debris. A harsh wind filled his nostrils with the odor. The worst part by far, though, were the sounds.
Moans of agony, the moans of the dying. Pain of a fleshy being in the moments before it passed. As Joe looked around, he revised his predictions about what had happened. No, this was no coup against Alex’s faction. As he looked out on the city, he realized this prediction was based on greatly out-of-date information. With the exception of the spire of the University behind him, not a single one of these structures was remotely familiar to him. The entire city had been transformed, erasing any trace of the human town that had once been here. None of its streets or floor plan remained.
If those things could be gone, then chances were Alex’s touch was gone too. That mare did like her humans. She wouldn’t want this. She also wouldn’t have kept fighting if it was doing this to her city. No, something else was going on. But what could it possibly be?
Joseph started walking. He casually blasted the refuse out of his way, scattering it in the wind before him so that he walked on clear streets. He didn’t permit any of the larger particles near his face, not dirt, not contamination of any kind. He was so old now, his immune system so compromised that even a cold might kill him, he was well aware of that. He wouldn’t be inviting a death like that just to get the water in his lab turned back on.
Eventually he found a pony, if she could be called it. This poor specimen still had the right percentage of water to carbon to body-mass, but that was about the only thing that was right with her. Her coat had fallen off in huge patches, her ribs were shrunken in with starvation, her stomach bloated. Thick, pestilent sores grew on her body. Most terrible of all, one of her legs had been crushed or damaged somehow, crumpled beyond recognition. Her left wing, near this leg, had a similar treatment, and had been completely disfigured. It was missing all its feathers, with thick patches of green oozing pus just beneath the skin.
She was a gray pegasus, in the worst condition Joseph had ever seen a pony. He could hardly look at her without vomiting. “A-are… can you hear me?” He asked, his voice no longer confident and demanding as it had been with Cloudy far beneath the ground.
The pony only moaned in response. She did look up at him, her eyes glazed over with illness and confusion. This pony was not long for life, not at this rate.
So much for finding Alex to get the lights turned back on.
As Joe stood there, he began to realize he was being watched. Ponies all around him, lurking in alleys or in the burned shells of fallen buildings, were rising from where they’d been. They saw him, an older pony in pristine clothes, and now they lurched towards him. Every single one bore horrific disfigurements, pockmarks or swollen pustules or infections. None as bad as the Pegasus on the ground at his hooves.
He couldn’t help them all. Joseph was completely overwhelmed now, he couldn’t stay out here. With a brief flick of concentration, he vanished, taking the injured pony with him.
* * *
Trade Wind did not think she would ever wake again. She hadn’t eaten in over a month, she hadn’t had anything to drink in almost as long. She couldn’t walk, couldn’t drag herself, couldn’t get away when ponies found her. She had hoped for death.
But death hadn’t come. She was on the ground somewhere, resting on a blanket. The smell of fire and sickness was gone, replaced with a soapy, sterile scent. How long had it been since she’d felt clean?
Wind opened her eyes, and found she didn’t have trouble focusing as she had before. The sores on her legs were missing, and the coat all around them had healed over with fresh, new growth. Her wings looked to be healing as well, new feathers coming in (though she still didn’t look anywhere close to ready to fly). Her broken leg… wasn’t there. Her flesh continued for a few inches, before transitioning smoothly to transparent crystal.
“You are awake,” someone said from beside her. She looked up, and saw a stallion standing there, as old and shriveled as her grandfather. Yet instead of his warm smile, this pony only looked confused. “Good. I did not know if…” He looked away, blushing. “Nevermind. Try your leg. Not too fast. Joint is still healing.”
“What… happened?” Wind muttered, looking after him. “Is this… heaven?”
The stallion laughed, shaking his head vigorously. “Primitive superstition won’t help you, pony. Rest. I haven’t used this bedroom in… years. Many years. Centuries? Yes, that’s how long. Don’t move too quickly, or you might tear the…” He blushed, ears flattening to his head. The stallion turned in a flurry of tail, snapping the bedroom door closed behind him.
Trade Wind stared at the closed door, mouth hanging open. Had this pony cured the plague, and replaced her destroyed leg? How could a pony with that kind of power act so shy? Had Wind been… kidnapped?
Wind didn’t know, but she intended to find out.
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Well, that explains how -someone- managed to keep the plague from obliterating everyone.
Joe's basically become one of those Indian ascetics who supposedly can survive on one mouthful of water for six weeks.
So... Joe basically turned into a lich?
Did Joe just leave his shelter in search of a water chip?
Wow! This is some crazy shit and I can't WAIT to read more!! <3
Oh no you don't get to leave this snippet here and go away, Star! Get your fluffy but back here and write us more!!!
That and Alex is going to kill him when she finds out. She's going to kill him, bring him back and then kill him again. Then resurrect him once more, hug him thigh and cry asking him never to leave again. Because we all know she's sappy like that
Im happy I got part of the guess, Joe can sequence a body down to DNa and atomic level, but cant keep someone alive in his place if he doesnt have organic life support himself?
Sentenced To Prism?
So he just got absent minded for a few centuries, and didn't let Alex know that he faked his own death? Some alicorn hooves are going to be introduced to somepony's forehead. I am not sure whose forehead, but I am sure it will have a horn.
...
...
So, the doctor's still alive, missing Jackie and Ezri but is in his shelter the whole time even after Obrican's takeover!?
Wow, Joseph, that's tough.
And also we now have Crystal Ponies on Earth once Joseph got in contact with EVERYONE, once Alex and Sunset finds about this, I wonder how Lady Alex will react...
And also Sunset too, learning that one of the fouders of Alexandria is still living.
I know that likely nobody cares
But I KNEW that Joseph was still alive in some way, I just always thought it felt awfully suspicious that he died in a "freak magical accident"
I'm so happy for some reason lol
Heh Joe seems like Twilight on steroids. Screw the woooorld, i got research to do.
7990894 We all did. My money was time spell gone wrong... I never win.
I had honestly forgotten what had supposedly happened to Joe. And his pony name for that matter.
Ah well, good to have him back.
Of course he wouldn't just die. He's too bloody smart for that XD
Hhhnnnggg he lives! I thought he died but he still lives- that brilliant bastard. Now onto the next chapter!
I was gonna say, it sounded like he had become a lichpony. Lichicorn?
Anyhoo, close enough!
You *bleep*, *bleep*, *bleeping* bast@rd (truth be told, I'm not a 100% on if I mean that towards the character or the author).
I cried for you when you died (ok, that one was meant only for the character. At least for now.....
).
9712042
Joseph is a jerk. Yes indeedy.
Countless people died to that plague. Many millions, at least. Billions? Enough to reset society again. Joseph cured it in, what... hours? Days? Weeks, maybe? He could've stopped this plague in it's tracks, before it reset society, if only he hadn't been preoccupied doing whatever the hell he's been doing down there. Whatever he's been doing, however important he thinks it is, it hasn't helped anyone but him. It hasn't helped the world, it hasn't saved anyone. Even if he starts helping people now, it's too late. I'm not happy with Joe right now.