blackpest

by mushroompone

Test

I did what any good scientist would do.

I’m proud of myself for that, because there was basically nothing I wanted to do more than tear through this video game like an eager foal. After all, I had been raised on mystery novels. The exploits of Context Clues and the Gumshoe Brothers existed as a sort of literary canon in my own mind, and I could almost feel them egging me on every time I greeted Hunter Moon.

Go on, Twilight!

Say yes.

Accept.

Beat the game!

I didn’t rush, though.

One should never rush an investigation, if at all possible.

No, no. Like any good scientist, I prepared a series of simple experiments.

I had no way of knowing what might happen should I answer Hunter Moon’s question. Perhaps I would be taken by the game, foalnapped if you will. Perhaps I would be locked into playing, unable to disconnect myself until the story had finished. Perhaps the magic would feed back into me, and my mind would be wiped entirely clean. Even more sinister, my own tendrils of magic might be turned against me, and I could become a marionette to this odd, little cartridge.

There were a great many ways the experience could turn sour.

To avoid any sort of cursed-object situation, I began a comprehensive analysis of the behavior I knew I could trust.

My first experiment was quite simple. I held it in my bedroom. I started the game up a dozen times, standing still and simply allowing the opening sequence to play out for me.

It happened the same way every time.

First, about a second after fully connecting to the cartridge, the HUSC copyright logo would appear. It would always appear in the direction I was facing, hang in midair for about five seconds, and fade away.

After another second's wait, the title would appear. It would also appear in front of me, whatever direction I was facing. As the word appeared, the odd, jaunty theme music would kick in-- the sort of thing that echoes eerily from a broken-down carnival ride, yet twice as processed and mechanical. It was also, somehow, sharper and more present. There was an artificial clarity to the sound that drilled into my eardrums and set them ringing in seconds.

The title would hang ominously, theme song looping endlessly, until I made some sort of vocalization.

Hoofsteps did not work. Neither did any sound from outside of my bedroom. It had to be my voice. I'm assuming it could tell what was me and what was elsewhere through the magi-tronic connection.

I tried “hello” for a while, but it started to feel silly. I switched to saying “Blackpest”, but that somehow felt even more stunted and awkward. I eventually settled on “begin”.

Maybe it just made me feel more in control. I don’t know.

Once I had spoken, Hunter Moon would appear. This one was a little different; for whatever reason, Hunter always appeared behind me. My best guess at the reasoning behind such a choice was that, otherwise, Hunter would have to materialize right before my eyes. It probably would have looked cheesy no matter how you slice it. He wasn’t a unicorn, after all.

Hunter would always say the same thing:

“Hello!

“My name is Hunter Moon.

"I'm an exterminator with the Blackpest Corporation! Welcome to the team.

“We've been getting reports of a pest control problem in your area. Are you up to the task, new recruit?"

His timing, intonation, and emphasis was always precisely the same, no matter what I said or did. His head could turn side-to-side to track my movement around the room, but he didn’t seem capable of adjusting up and down, as he always stared just a bit higher than my eyes.

All in all, nothing very impressive. Once the initial shock of a ‘real-life video game’ wore off, and I was able to analyze the idea with my magical knowledge, it seemed rather rudimentary. It wasn’t much more than a basic hologram, with some incredibly simple function cues. Anypony with basic magical education could have put the thing together… it’s just that I couldn’t conjure up the ‘why’ of it all.

It was an odd little thing. The sort which nopony in Equestria should have cause to create. And, yet, somepony had.

And it made the nagging even louder.

I hated that. I hated that, after all I had done, all I had resisted, giving in only made things worse. If I was honest with myself, I could have predicted it.

There were more words, now. Blackpest. HUSC. Hunter.

Easier to tuck into harder-to-find places. Every conversation found a place for one or two. Every morning walk found a way to whisper it to me. Every nightmare had one, or two, or all, in glaring neon staring down at me.

It was all I could think about.

It was all-consuming.

I know that sounds ridiculous, but take a moment to imagine yourself in my shoes: you find a mysterious object in the woods, one that almost seems to speak to you, and find an entire other world inside. Even as I placed these restrictions upon myself, exploring this other world--the world-but-not-our-world--was the only thing I wanted.

That was when I realized that I could explore without committing.

I began conducting the experiments elsewhere in town, just to be sure they still worked. I would often go to restaurants, excuse myself to the bathroom, and give the game a whirl. Unsurprisingly (or perhaps, waiting for that hidden difference, very surprising indeed), it did the same thing every time.

Rarity made plans with me more and more often, under many pretenses.

I made excuses to run off more and more often, under no pretenses.

Eventually, after carrying the thing around for about a week, I sewed a special pocket into my regular saddlebag to hold it. I carried around a map of Ponyville, too, in case I encountered a location where the game behaved differently.

But it didn’t.

Same thing everywhere. Exactly the same.

The sameness had a sneaking terror to it, I thought. No other experiment I'd ever run had this absolute predictability; a percent's difference in humidity, a degree's change in temperature, a single song stuck in my head or a mosquito humming near my ear… all were enough to produce measurable changes in magic phenomena.

Except for this one, which--despite being magical in nature--had the certainty of a well-made and tightly-wound watch.

That wasn't how things like this were meant to work. There were meant to be hiccups, or glitches, or randomized instances of new behavior. The laws of quantum magicks said so: the thought that a spell is being studied or measured is always enough to produce different results, however slight they may be.

And, yet, Hunter always did the same thing. As did I.

I never answered Hunter’s question. In honesty, I was terrified of it.

I’m not ashamed in the least to admit that. You’d have to be quite brave and quite stupid to go messing around in tamper-proof magic. There’s a reason it’s hidden, after all.

So I repeated. Waiting for that quantumly-certain uncertainty to kick in and give me something new.

A week and a half of experiments slogged by, and I still hadn’t shown anypony the game. As far as Rarity knew, the game was broken. As far as anypony else knew, I had never found it in the first place.

I think a part of me was protective of it.

If I showed it to somepony, then they could just beat me to the solution. This way, there was no competition. No unwavering curiosity and drama-loving energy from Rarity. None of Pinkie’s strange perceptiveness. None of Applejack’s overbearing big-sister-ness.

Just me. Me and the cartridge, pezuña a pezuña, a true battle of wits and equals.

And I thought that.

That we were equals.

That I could take it.

But I was so scared. So unbelievably scared that there was something powerful hidden in the spellwork. Something that could wipe me from reality entirely, leaving everypony to wonder where I’d gone.

And yet I could tell no one.

And yet I had to.

The vicious cycle of anxiety and superiority kept me chasing my tail for ten days. Kept me performing little nonsense experiments, poking around at a spell that was clearly well-written and immutable. Kept me circling the answer without ever lighting upon it.

The tape recorder in my mind grew more and more bloated, thoughts recorded over one another in a great cacophony of fears and doubts and paranoia.

I couldn't think of anything else. There wouldn't have been any room.

Which brings us to the day I was caught.

Sunday morning. A walk, as usual. I stopped in the woods to watch the game once or twice, and all seemed just the same… but the creeping sameness. So close that it makes you wonder. Makes you watch more carefully than ever.

When I was finished, I closed my saddlebag and tied it shut with the game inside.

The summer solstice had passed mere days earlier, and so the sun was already up high enough to be seen over the trees. It chased the morning mist away quite expertly.

Rarity had me well-trained. Even at a great distance, I could smell the tea and biscuits she was preparing in her darkened kitchen. Such a great distance that I should not have been able to smell it, in fact. But weeks of routine had suggested it, almost hypnotically.

“Good morning, Twilight!” Rarity called, leaning out her window and waving.

I waved back.

Even though I came over every Sunday, Rarity never made herself up for my arrival. It was always the same robe and slippers, the same head full of curlers. It was an odd little comfort, and a show of trust I had not asked for.

It made me feel all the more guilty to be hiding a mystery in my saddlebag.

I couldn’t help but remember Rarity’s glee in ‘having more time to snoop’ when we had--well, when I had--first picked the thing up. It was something we shared; a love of mystery, an addiction to it, even. To hoard one all to myself…

Rarity appeared at the door, holding it open for me. “Come in, darling. The pest’s ready.”

I smiled sheepishly, filling in the blanks, and squeezed past her. The saddlebag brushed against her chest. “Thanks.”

The Boutique was still dark, as it always was this early on a Sunday. Something about Rarity's proclivity for migraines. Some of the mannequins were clothed, now; her fall line coming together, as Rarity had explained to me.

It didn't quite make sense to me. Making something so far in advance of the occasion, that is. But, as Rarity had put it, "I don't have a time machine, darling."

I took off my saddlebags and draped them over the back of my chair, Blackpest to the inside, where I would be able to feel its shape against my back.

Rarity carried over two mugs of tea. "I do believe I've mastered the timing. These should be ready to drink! Connect, Twilight!"

She set one down in front of me. Peach, my favorite.

It was steaming, but only just. A pleasantly warm feeling on my face.

Rarity slid into the chair across from me. "So, how are you?" she asked, lifting her own mug to her face. "I feel like I haven't seen much of you this past week."

I coughed. "Um… yeah, I guess I've been kinda busy."

"Oh?" Rarity took a dainty sip of her tea and swallowed. "With what?"

I made a long, drawn-out, non-committal sound. "Just research. Boring research."

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Twilight, I'm sure it's not boring at all. Just because I don't understand it doesn't mean it's boring!" She set her mug down, folded her hooves on the table, and leaned over to me with wide eyes. "Go on! I'm all ears."

I was starting to feel worse by the minute.

I leaned away from my friend. "Really. I-it's even starting to get boring for me," I said hastily. Not exactly a lie, but definitely not the whole truth.

"Oh. I see." Rarity held my gaze a moment longer, then sat back and lifted her tea once more. She seemed disappointed. Or maybe 'distant' was the right word.

I took a sip of my own tea. She was right; it was the perfect temperature.

That made me feel even worse, somehow.

"Well, if you ever need a change of pace…" Rarity murmured, running her hoof along the edge of her mug. "I'm always around for a little shopping trip. And I could always use an extra hoof blackpesting gemstones-- I need some amber tones for my next piece."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks."

Rarity returned my sickly grin. "What else are friends for?"

For lying to, maybe?

I took another sip of tea. It burned a bit on its way down, but in that comforting sort of way. Not like alcohol burned… more like how the sun burned. How a campfire burned.

"I'm okay, though," I said.

"Oh." Rarity cleared her throat. "I-I know, darling. I wasn't suggesting… I thought you might want a break from your studies. That's all."

"I'll be alright." I reached out and held the mug with both hooves. "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's work alone."

I laughed half-heartedly.

Rarity did not say anything.

She looked down at her tea. Her horn glowed softly, and the blue light of her magic began to swirl through the tea, stirring without a spoon. Creating a little vortex of deep brown and sparkling cyan.

There was a particular sort of fatigue in her eyes. At the time, I mistook it for pity.

"Rarity?"

She looked up, hopeful. "Yes?"

"Could I, um…" I put my mug down. "Could I maybe use your bathroom?"

Rarity chuckled airly. She seemed more than a little disappointed. "Of course. You know where it is?"

I nodded. "Mm-hm."

My chair squeaked against the floor as I stood. Rarity continued to sip her tea and stare out the window.

After a moment's pause, I grabbed my saddlebags. Luckily for me, Rarity's rigid code of etiquette internally forbade her from commenting. Her eyes slipped down to the floor as the steam clouded her vision.

I had to cross back through the mannequins to get upstairs. Dressed as they were, they still felt alien in the dark. It was difficult not to be afraid of them, I think… the not-ponies. Even more frightening, the almost-ponies.

Up the stairs, take a right. Bathroom straight ahead.

I wasn't going to the bathroom, though.

I hadn't tested the game at Rarity's. While I knew I was taking a risk getting caught, I had to know; what if this was the one place it behaved differently?

A good scientist is thorough.

A good scientist risks it for the answers.

A good scientist's priority is data.

Connect, Twilight.

Find the evidence.

You're the smart one.

You can solve this.

I wandered down the hall and towards Rarity's bedroom, my magic already slipping into the secret pocket and feeling for the metal contacts.

It was starting to have its own familiarity… the slow consumption of my senses, and their sudden explosive return. The voice of Hunter Moon, distant and robotic, and yet somehow so tangible. Spoken right into my ears.

As my senses were taken over, so was my tape recorder.

No more pestering.

No more distractions.

The HUSC copyright appeared hovering over the threshold, and I walked right through it. The game's title appeared next, right in front of Rarity's red sewing machine.

Blackpest.

Then came music, happy and peppy as always.

I turned, putting the large window at my back. I always found it less ominous when Hunter appeared in the light.

I cleared my throat. "Begin."

"Hello!"

I spun to face him.

"My name is Hunter Moon," he reminded me, his jaw moving mechanically as always. "I'm an exterminator with the Blackpest Corporation! Welcome to the team."

I tried to stretch up taller to look directly into Hunter's eyes.

“We've been getting reports of a pest control problem in your area." His eyes were burning into my forehead. "Are you up to the task, new recruit?"

And then he stood there, solid as a statue.

I took in a deep breath and sighed. It was hard not to be disappointed.

Nothing ever happened after, as long as I waited. No more talking, nothing else appeared. Hunter didn't even blink. Just stared at the little spot above my head, perhaps near the top of my horn, and waited for a response.

I sat down. Hunter's head moved minutely to the left, but could not tilt down to meet me.

No blinking. No speaking.

And yet I stared up at him. For a moment, I felt as if I were a curious filly in an art museum, gazing up at the adult-sized statues and wondering what it must be like to look them in the eye. Knowing nothing of their creation, and so convinced that it was something utterly magical and mysterious.

Then, starting from quite far away, I heard a sound.

It wasn't an easily identifiable sound. Just a particular sort of rustling that I could very nearly put my hoof on.

I pricked an ear and looked around the room, searching for the source of the sound.

It was growing nearer, now.

A tingling was starting to run up and down my spine. Was this it? Was this the difference? Was Rarity somehow the key to this mystery?

I got to my hooves and turned around, searching for--

A distant shout.

Now very familiar.

I had barely a second to react before a loud and low sound of collision reverberated through the room. The sound of a dear friend of mine having an unfortunate landing.

There, pressed against the top half of Rarity's bedroom window like a disoriented songbird, was Rainbow Dash. Her wing seemed to be bent at an odd angle. Her face was contorted in pain and shame.

The window held strong for only a fraction of a second, then tilted inward, and a surprised Rainbow was deposited onto the floor like soda from a vending machine.

She tumbled right through Hunter Moon, and his form shimmered like a mirage.

"Rainbow?"

Rainbow chuckled to herself, clearly wincing through the pain. "Hey, Twi," she moaned. "What's shakin'?"

"Sorry, sport! Didn't quite catch that," Hunter announced in his usual overly-friendly tone. "Are you up to the task?"

I balked at this new response.

Had to write it down somewhere.

"Wait…" Rainbow was standing, now. I guess I'd missed that. "What are you doing here?"

My gaze flicked over to Rainbow for a moment. "Uh--"

"Rainbow Dash!"

I whirled about.

Of course: Rarity, and looking mighty pissed.

My instinct was to turn Hunter off, but I couldn't bring myself to. The reason is as foreign to me as it is to anypony else. Perhaps the realization of my anxieties over getting caught had frozen me completely.

Rainbow chuckled again, her focus falsely placed on brushing her mane back into place with one hoof. "Hey, Rares."

"'Hey'?!" Rarity repeated. "Rainbow Dash, this is the third time this week you've fallen through my window! I told you to practice somewhere else!"

"Whoa, whoa; let's cool it with the full names, okay?" Rainbow was looking less embarrassed by the second. "It's not like I broke anything."

Rarity looked up at the window, checking for damages. She very nearly made direct eye contact with Hunter Moon. He was still standing there. As if he were part of the conversation.

But I watched Rarity trot forward, eyes trained up at the open window, intending to examine it more closely-- and she trotted right through him without a thought. Like he was a ghost.

It made my horn tingle ever so slightly.

Rainbow looked at me, a shadow of doubt in her eyes. "What's the big deal? You already have Twi over."

My eyes flicked over to Hunter, then connected with Rarity's.

Rarity caught my gaze, then squinted at Rainbow.

Rainbow gave Rarity a once-over, taking in her morning dishevelment and trying to slot the pieces of the puzzle together.

She was suddenly overcome by the giggles, and put a hoof to her mouth. "Oh, my gosh, are you two--"

"No!" Rarity squealed. She rolled her eyes and looked over at me, attempting something more like pity. "Twilight, dear, what are you doing in my bedroom? I thought you were going to the little filly's room."

Rainbow snickered.

I swallowed hard.

Hunter Moon, a ghost to these two, was looking over my shoulder. Though I could not see his face, the expression was burned into my mind. It begged me to say anything at all which could be interpreted as an answer to his question.

"Um…" I considered my response carefully. "Sorry, I… I guess I--"

"Are you using your magic?" Rarity asked.

"Sorry, sport! Didn't quite catch that," Hunter added with undue energy. "Are you up to the task?"

Chilly electricity up my spine.

My magic wasn't obvious. I could keep it faint, nothing but a background routine. Like a song stuck in your head. But, with the sudden quiet in the room, Rarity could hear that gentle sound of tinkling bells that accompanied its usage.

Rainbow cocked her head in confusion.

Okay.

Think, Twilight.

Only I couldn't think; everything I had was filled with Hunter, with notes I had to write down, with the churning terror of having been caught, with--

My magic surged, without thought, and pulled the object out of its pocket.

Rarity gasped softly.

"The fuck is that?" Rainbow asked, eyebrows knit together.

Rarity clucked her tongue and stamped one hoof on the floor. "Really, now!"

"What?" Rainbow whined. "I've heard you swear plenty, Rares."

"You have not!"

"Have, too!" Rainbow retorted, stamping her own hoof. She looked back at me. "Seriously, what is that thing, Twi?"

My heart thrummed in my throat.

A little honesty, Twilight. Go on.

"It's a game,” Rarity said. SHe was answering Rainbow, but her eyes were only focused on me.
"A game?" Rainbow breathed, excitement barely contained.

"Yes, Rainbow. A game.” Rarity rolled her eyes, then turned her gaze back to me. “I don't understand, Twilight-- I thought it was broken."

I cleared my throat. “Uh… i-it was. I thought.”

"Sorry, sport! Didn't quite catch that. Are you up to the task?"

Rainbow's confusion only grew. "Why do you have a broken SNES game?" she asked, a reasonable question if I've ever heard one.

I set my jaw.

Hunter was still as a statue--this I know beyond the shadow of a doubt--and yet I felt strangely as if he were leaning over me, poised to leap upon me should my secret get out.

But my tape recorder was zipping along again, spluttering something entirely new:

Tell them.

Tell them.

Tell them.

“Twilight? Are you alright?” Rarity asked. “Just tell us.”

I pulled my magic out of the game, and came rushing back to reality. Rarity’s face seemed so much more concerned without the bright, overly-saturated visual filters.

"It's not broken," I blurted out. "I'm playing it."

Comments

[Thought Prism]

No, Twilight. Blackpest is playing you.

[SIGAWESOME]

Beat the game!

Nonono Twilight! If a creepy memetic hazard "game" compels you to play or otherwise interact with it, do not play by its rules! Make your own rules. I am sure a gamer pony like Button would have the items and knowledge (and interest) to help out. Failing that, borrowing some third year mages from Celestia's School would love the challenge to decompile (and hack) cartridge . You could even call in some favours with Celestia and have her offer them extra credit or whatnot for the effort.

the odd, jaunty theme music would kick in-- the sort of thing that echoes eerily from a broken-down carnival ride, yet twice as processed and mechanical.

The Carny by Nick Cave comes to mind.

To avoid any sort of cursed-object situation, I began a comprehensive analysis of the behavior I knew I could trust.
<...>
It was all I could think about.

It was all-consuming.

Oops! That is not looking good. Definitely going to need outside perspective, because once it has compromised your judgement, it is game over and you will not even realise it.

<Rarity's conversations>

Definitely feels like Zahir territory here. All her thoughts and perceptions are steadily turning and spiralling inwards, like light circling a black hole.

"It's not broken," I blurted out. "I'm playing it."

oohhh. This should be interesting. Hopefully with more ponies in the know, Twilight can have a measure of safety if things go pear-shaped? Perhaps Rainbow can assist if there is a two pony multiplayer version and Rarity can be a shepherd with an outside, uncontaminated perspective?
(Ha ha. Who I am I kidding? All three of them are in trouble now I imagine!)