Chapter 23: Turquoise
Twenty minutes later, the automaton in the room with her finally stood, this time without flopping around. At her instruction it walked slowly from one end of the room to the other, an even-more accurate mirror than what it had been before. Not only did the automaton look exactly like her, but it also moved like her too, its back legs swaying exactly as hers did, occasionally shaking its mane in precisely the same configuration.
Did I give it too much of myself? But that was an organic way of thinking—rationally considered, she had no reason to be bothered no matter how much of her unique nature this automaton could imitate. Its existence did not diminish her value. "How do you feel?" she asked, as soon as she'd run it through the same series of hoof-eye coordination drills that the Wizard always called for from her.
"This unit is now current in scheduled maintenance calls," it said. "Combat projections unavailable. This cannot be reconciled."
Bit levitated over the tablet without even thinking, scrolling through it again. The little machine was right, of course. While it now read as fully functional, the dozens of combat simulations running in the background kept timing out. You have a civilization's worth of physical combat skills that don't work in your body.
"I do not anticipate you will need to enter physical combat to complete your purpose," she said. "I'm the only one left from the old empire of Zircon. I had to adapt too."
"Instructions unclear," it said. "Resolve combat fault."
It needed something to do, just like she did. How long had it been hiding in that empty, dead castle, waiting for someone to arrive? Waiting for her? "For now, uh... patrol the tower. You don't have to fight anyone you meet, just report back to me if you encounter any non-crystal being inside. If you see anypony else made of crystal, they're friendly."
It straightened, then turned to the door. "This unit begins patrol." It walked away, leaving Bit with only the steady hum of the crystal polisher for company.
The next several days passed without much fanfare. Bit tinkered with the design of a proper skeleton for the Wizard, coming up with a list of alterations to the ancient sketches of her own that she'd unearthed from the tower's archives. But this was outside the purview of Bit's experience, so work was slow going. She had to dredge up a few anatomical encyclopedias for review, so that she would get every detail right.
Or I could just use the bones I have as a model. He used real pony bones with me. More precisely, her own production notes indicated they had been used to create the original thaumium molds. I wonder whose bones they used for me.
The vault had many things, but materials to craft one-of-a-kind automatons weren't listed anywhere in the tower's catalog. But maybe the Union's engineers would know where she could get casting clay and molding silicone—or something functionally equivalent.
After a few days Keen arrived in person, with an impassioned plea for her to join him at the relay station.
"Feel the wind on your coat, Wizard," he said, as soon as she had emerged from the tower. "Those are the dying breaths of autumn. We have one week before the cold comes. Last year we had the Union Coal Mine. Now we don't. When the frost comes, ponies will be dying by the day. Many lives depend on these repairs."
"I already gave your engineers the instructions they needed," she said. Probably better than pointing out she couldn't feel the wind of autumn, and she didn't have a coat. It was better to learn to ignore insignificant errors made by organics, when so many of them couldn't keep their facts straight. "Either your workshops can fabricate the necessary replacement parts, or they cannot. I have given you every possible advantage."
"Respectfully, Wizard, you haven't. You need to be there." He stepped between her and the tower door, gesturing out into the cold of the city. "We thought we knew how the old relay stations worked, and you saw what became of our repairs. Our understanding of empire technology is based on layers of assumptions and lies. There are a dozen ways for those assumptions to go wrong. Even if they don't, who knows how many questions we'll have? There is nothing you could be doing in that tower as important as the labor you could do for the city at the relay station.
She looked out the gate, and the ramshackle village surrounding the palace relay station. Homes had built out in rings from within, each decreasingly sheltered from the arctic chill. They would just be uncomfortable in summer, and only dangerous to the weak in autumn. When winter arrived, they would mean death.
"I just left an appointment with the Union's chief meteorologist," Keen continued. "This will be the worst winter in memory. She assures me that based on current projections, the air at noonday will be cold enough to kill an unprotected pony in less than sixty seconds. It will freeze them on their hooves. We have no mines, no wood left for charcoal, no oil."
Finally, Bit nodded. "May I bring assistants?"
She gathered the two automatons, both now retrofitted with her own movement patterns. She gave them novice robes, then spread her toolbelts between them, before hurrying up the stairs to go looking for Pathfinder in the apprentice's quarters. She found his door locked, and the pony beyond unresponsive to her requests for him to open it.
"I'm going to repair another relay station," she said, frustrated. "It will probably take several days. I leave my tower under your protection until I return. You can come and go freely, but it will respond violently to others. Don't try to invite guests."
"Nopony wants to see me," came a voice from the other side.
"I do," she said. "You were selfless last winter, saving hundreds of ponies from the cold. If you come with me, we can save more."
There was a rustling sound from the other side, and when he spoke again his voice was closer. "Which station?"
"Industrial," she answered. "We have a week before winter. If you do not help, we may not complete repairs in time."
The door swung open a crack. Pathfinder was naked now, and had cleaned off the residue that had covered him. The room was almost untouched—evidently he really had just climbed inside and shut the door behind him. You can hibernate, you just don't know how to recognize it yet.
"I am not a wizard," he said. "I'm not even a mechanic. Fixin' a station is a good cause, but I don't know how to help you."
Bit took a step back, momentarily stunned. He was right, of course. She hadn't even considered the fact that he didn't have a single relevant skill. He wasn't even a crystal operator, yet she considered his help essential. Why? There was no grunt-labor the two automatons or any of the engineers couldn't do for her.
I don't need him there. He needs to be there. This must be what ordinary ponies felt about their children. She had seen him struggle, and now had a way to give him the help he needed.
"I don't need you to repair anything," she said. "The engineers should be doing most of the work. I will be supervising. But I can only be in one place at a time. Substations are large, with many levels that may be unsafe for living ponies to enter. You could be invaluable."
I was going to send the automatons down into the service tunnels if it came to that, but they aren't locking themselves in rooms to hide from the world. I could order them to walk behind me in formation and do nothing else and that would be enough to satisfy them.
"I guess... not doing any good in here," he finally said. "I still think it's a mistake going out there. If they see me."
Bit strode past him, opening the closet and selecting a set of intact robes from within. All this time frozen with stale air had preserved some of the cloth, or at least the inorganic fibers. She thrust the robe towards him. "Here. I, uh... I hereby appoint you as an apprentice crystalsmith of the tower. I've recently inherited the tower, so this authority is mine to invoke. Be it so recorded."
He tilted his head to the side, but took the offered apprentice robe. "You're serious? Bit, your tower's empty. I've been in here for weeks. What difference does a title make?"
"Everything!" Bit exclaimed, before turning away as he changed. He might object to her pronouncement, but she couldn't help but see he took the offered disguise anyway. "Beings of crystal require purpose, Pathfinder. Purpose can source from many things, and one of them is identity. I offer you an identity within the tower. It is all I have to give."
He shrugged on the robe in a few moments, then followed her down the stairs. "And what purpose do you have, Wizard? You went into the palace searching for your master. I know we didn't find him there."
She chuckled. "No, I found him upstairs. His bones were in his bedroom all along!"
"Oh." His expression darkened. "The way you said that... are you sure you're okay?"
The other automatons waited near the tower's bottom steps. Both wore similar apprentice robes, though none were tailored to match. Bit would have to worry about that when she had a little more time. "I guess I haven't told you—or anypony else." She stopped him with a leg, leaning close to him to whisper. "Can you keep a secret, apprentice?"
"My name is Pathfinder," he said.
"And mine's Bit, but you only call me Wizard."
He smiled. It wasn't much—but it was more than she'd seen from him since he returned to the tower. "Fair enough, Bit. I swear silence—not that it matters. No one wants to see my face again, remember?" As he said it, he lifted the hood of his robe. "What about these two ponies? Aren't you worried about them?"
Bit let go of him. "They're automatons, they won't reveal anything they hear. Both of you, remove your masks."
The automatons might not have much to say when they spoke, but at least they knew how to follow directions. They obeyed without question, lowering their hoods, and pulling down simple cold weather masks. Pathfinder stopped on the stairs, mouth hanging open. "Where did... You made more of you? Bit, what the buck are they?"
"You've already met them." She nudged him from behind, down the steps towards them. "I plan on naming them, but I haven't found any designations I like."
"You didn't answer any of my questions," Pathfinder said, growing increasingly agitated. "Bit, what is this?"
"They're the automatons from the palace, the 'death machines'. Ponies were terrified of them, and they were both damaged from combat and years without maintenance. Since I couldn't restore their old bodies, I used the only mold we had—my mold."
He was silent for almost a minute, glancing from the two of them, then back to her. "You're right, there are... there are differences. I think there's metal in there."
"Yes, but they don't have skulls. Neither do I, I suppose. But they both still have their armored superstructure protecting their vital mechanisms. I have something similar, but... you don't. The conversion process wasn't meant to make ponies into warriors. Protecting them from the cold is enough. Both of you, replace your masks and hoods." They obeyed, and soon were almost indistinguishable from ordinary ponies. Only the edges of their hooves and a glint of crystal eyes were visible from underneath.
"I don't like this," he said. Pathfinder glanced back up the stairs.
But she didn't want to give him the chance. "We should get going," she said, dragging him by a hoof. "Secretary Ardor is waiting out in the cold for us. I know from experience that older ponies generally can't tolerate it for long."
They left together, her secret unshared. But maybe that was for the best.
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It's certainly has risk, but nothing ventured... Doing this will gain trust with the people, even if it small. Every bit matters in this hostile environment.
Bit, nooo
Well this was very short. Here's hoping they manage to sucessfully repair it. And the townsfolk still see Pathfinder as Pathfinder.
Thankfully this book actually decided to not raise a flag in there, thank goodness, all other books never ever hesitate to go for the most dangerous choice at every single opportunity.
and when there was one crystal wizard now there was a crystal wizard and 3 minions, the wizards powers grows as does her legend
10804189
i had the same thougs xD
10804143
i think she needs to lern the truth
10804237
She has all the information, but hasn't connected the dots
10804267
yet
I like how she already identified herself as Pathfinder's mother and just made a minor mental note of it.
10804189
"they're multiplying exponentially!"
10804359
SOMBRA: This is getting ridiculous, now there are four of them
I am wondering if she is just in denial at this point about who she once was. It would seem obvious to Pathfinder, and I would think he would be worried about losing his sense of identity if he only has her to go with. It should be obvious to her as well, considering she gets fragments memories pop up and her voice matches a pony.
It seems like she is about to try the same procedure that made her with Crimson. He gave her instructions based on the idea she recovered her memories, which means he expects to as well. She is going to be in for a shock if she brings him back and he remembers nothing.
10804472
There's really only two ways this can go. She may never get all her memories back which will mean she's Bit forever with bits of her old memory (I mean her brain may have been intact at the time she was crystalised but... we don't know for sure. It sounds like she was just bones.
Or she slowly gets all of her memories back and souls somehow store memories, just less efficiently than a brain somehow? If that's the case, her reviving Crimson is possible, in the former case, he'd be a crimson-like crystal pony with some of their memories but a new personality/consciousness.
I think pathfinder might find some friends in the "death machines" they might see him as a figure to learn from as they do with bit but path more experienced then bit I think both side are gonna surprise each other!
That's a pretty understandable reaction. This is the point in the story where the robot starts to assemble more of itself all the while reassuring the living protagonist that there's nothing to be concerned about.
10804641
I find it mildly creepy that there is an empty comment here... How did you even do that? Tell me you secrets.
10805094 You can [Redacted] , after that you [Redacted] and [Redacted] . With both [Redacted] you can get the [Redacted] and there you have it.
Ah, poorly thought-out commands to unquestioning automata. She truly is becoming alive.
I imagine that from Pathfinder's end, the laughter came out a bit more deranged than "chuckle" would imply.
And yeah, the Wizard's entourage should lead to some... interesting reactions in the populace. Let's hope getting the relay station up and running inspires enough goodwill for them to overlook the whole "raising the dead in her image" issue. (We know that isn't what happened with Pathfinder, but it's what the locals have convinced themselves.)
I can already see where this could go, assuming Pathfinder hasn't done something irresponsible already, considering the amount of time he's been out of the picture.I have a bad feeling about restoring the wizard. Something is bound to go wrong. Like he’ll somehow gone mad.
I do appreciate Bit is developing her own morality system rather than simply falling back on Moss Flower's.
I wonder whose bones they used for me.
Yours, you halfwit.
Hopefully the automata begin to show some of the traits they were before having their bodies remolded into copies of her.
I sense a potentional love triangle as a plot twist~!
She has no coat, dummy
Just follow instructions!
So despite finding what is probably her Wizard's brain, she's still officially taking over the tower? Interesting...
Wait, so is the secret just the fact her "apprentices" are former death drones? I thought she'd tell him about how the Wizard made a copy of his brain.
SHAKE DAT ASS, 'BOT!