Underped

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 9: The Walls

Derpy turned sharply as Dr. Horse entered the room. He nearly jumped as she did, looking up from the x-ray films he was holding.

“Doctor. What’s the situation?”

He looked at her, his smile clearly fake. A feature that disappointing Derpy greatly—but there was something else in his face, something that terrified her on a level she refused to admit. Her eyes immediately moved to the walls, her brain forcing itself into yet another panicked count before she could regain focus.

“To be honest,” sighed Dr. Horse, “x-rays are hardly useful for determining what exactly the problem might be.”

“So there is a problem?”

Dr. Horse looked at her, then sighed again and sat precariously on his doctorly rolling stool. “Ms. Doo, to be totally frank, I have no idea how you are even conscious.”

“Well clearly I am.”

“Yes, but the crystal was experimental.” He looked down at his notes again. The same look in his eyes—of shame. Or of strange and alien blankness. As if he were barely a pony at all. Derpy shivered. “I had intended to slowly increase its power for a gradual healing effect, but it is currently fully active—and I have no idea how it actually works. No one has any idea how, exactly, it works. Just that it does work. On paper, at least.”

“And you still put that in my head? Not having any idea what it would even do?”

“You did sign the consent form, Ms. Doo.”

Derpy slid off the bed. “Doctor. Something is wrong. I feel one two three f...something isn’t right. The world looks...” She winced. “Like I can see it but it’s gray, empty, like it’s in my head but not in my eyes and in my eyes but not in my head.” She paused. “Like I’m being watched. Not just watched, but like...something’s in me. Hearing my thoughts. Like...like there’s something in there. An idea. Like I can feel something coming and I...I don’t want to...”

“Like you can feel the crystal?”

Derpy stared at him. “Is there even a crystal in there? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does. I put it there.” He checked his notes—and then stopped. He once again sighed. “I will give you the truth. The genuine Applejack honesty. Side effects are extremely likely. Even in an ideal situation, there may be...mental dysfunction. Your brain is being reconstructed on a cellular level. Trying to do it all at once...well...”

“You're saying it's lucky that this is a mental hospital.”

Dr. Horse opened his mouth to protest, but then slowly nodded. “You may see or feel things that are not quite real, and we can deal with those—”

“Then deal with them, three fou...” She grabbed at her face and groaned. “Ugh you’re not being helpful in the slightest.”

“Do you think I’m not trying?!” Dr. Horse threw down his notes and stood up. “I’m a doctor! I just wanted to help!”

Derpy stared at him, and did not why despite his volume his eyes were so utterly empty.

Derpy pulled her coat around her neck and stopped in the center of the path. Confused, she looked around.

“What?” she said, confused by the sudden sense of desperate horror that was slowly spreading through her mind. Horror that she knew did not make sense. It was not logical. She was on Manestreet in Ponyville, surrounded by quaint shops and with Twilight’s Castle looming pleasantly in the distance. Everything was perfectly normal.

Except that she had no memory of how she had gotten there. She had been in the hospital, talking to Dr. Horse, and suddenly found herself in the chilly center of the town. No matter how she tried, she could not recall the intervening time. It was simply blank.

The wind blew against her back, and her wings ruffled as the icy air penetrated all the way through her down. Derpy shivered and looked around the town—but she did not want to. Something was wrong.

The buildings seemed strange to her. Empty. Dull. She could see them clearly—but they still seemed blurry, somehow nebulous. As if a thick but visually imperceptible fog were moving through the town, separating her from the places she found so familiar. As if the crystal in her brain were forcing her to take on a new perspective—one she had never asked for and wished so badly to reject.

“One two three...” Derpy paused, shaking, unable to complete the count. The impossible sequence that made too much sense.

Down the street, she saw a building that looked far more defined than the rest—and an idea suddenly occurred to her. To her or, perhaps, to the crystal inside her.

“Sugarcube Corner,” she said, feeling herself move toward it. At the very least, it would be warm in there—and it would smell like tasty baked goods. Even if there was one baked good Derpy could no longer eat and only halfway remember that she missed dearly.

A little bell rang as she entered, and Derpy stopped once again at the mental jarring of having suddenly gone from the street to the inside of Sugarcube Corner. Once again, no intervening space, just a flash and new location. It was a much smaller hole than before, but still one she did not appreciate. She was increasingly thinking that they were a kind of seizure as pathways in her brain went dark, replaced by new and smarter ones.

Shaking her head to regain her composure, she entered the lobby and looked around. “One two three...” she whispered before her eyes settled on the front counter, where Pinkie was standing.

Pinkie looked up. “Wow, you look terrible,” she said with her almost annoying squeaky voice. “Like the main character out of a poorly-written horror short story.”

Derpy felt something move through her mind—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. A fleeting perception before she ignored what Pinkie had said.

“Hey, Pinkie,” she groaned, walking up to the counter. “Sorry, still getting over the brain surgery. I don’t feel so great.”

“I think I have a cupcake flavor for that...oh wait, duh! Sorry, I know how you feel about ‘impostor-muffins’ a–”

Derpy felt her stomach turn as a new pain in her head began. “No, I’m fine,” she said. “Yeah. A cupcake sounds good about now.”

Pinkie stared at her with smiling concern. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Pinkie continued to stare, then disappeared under the counter and brought up the confection on a small plate. “On the house,” she said.

“Thanks, Pinkie.” Derpy took the cupcake and took a bite. She felt it in her mouth, but it tasted like nothing. There was not even a texture to it.

“Huh,” she said.

“Do you like it?”

“What flavor is it?”

“Sterpleberry.”

“Huh,” repeated Derpy. She smiled. “Yeah,” she lied. “It’s delicious.”

Derpy was struck by the realization that “sterpleberry” was not a real fruit. It was a made up word. She ignored this.

“Pinkie,” she said, slowly. “I...have a question. But it’s a little awkward.”

“I already know what you’re going to ask.”

“You...do?”

“Of course I do. Yes. It’s totally okay if you like mares, we’re all really accepting of it. Especially hot peach-flavored unicorn professors.”

“How did you...” Derpy frowned, because Pinkie Pie had inadvertently already answered her question. A question she wished she did not need to articulate—but was compelled to anyway. “The walls, Pinkie.”

Pinkie giggled and stared at her, wide-eyed. “Walls? What about them? Not closing in, are they?”

“No...but I...” Derpy looked around, her mind moving through the same sequence. “I keep counting them. I can’t stop counting them.”

“Do you get more or less walls? I mean, I have the same thing with wells, sometimes wills, and don't even ask me what a wull is because I don't know—”

“It’s always the same number,” said Derpy, hurriedly, looking around, trying to confirm it—she was not sure if she was sounding insane, or if she really was. She counted again, though, and came to the same conclusion. The same hated conclusion. “There’s always four.”

Pinkie stared, then after an awkward pause let out a giggle that almost sounded terrified. She did not blink.

“Well of course there’s four, silly! Three is not enough! How else are we supposed to hold up the roof?”

“You can see it too.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Derpy! You sure are a silly pony!” She giggled wildly.

Derpy pointed at a wall. “One...”

Pinkie’s smile grew as tears began to well in her eyes. “Derpy please stop. I can—I can give you another cupcake, I have cookies in the back, just—”

Derpy moved her hoof. “Two...”

Pinkie whimpered through her smile. “Derpy, no, don’t—”

“Three...”

Tears rolled down Pinkie’s cheeks. “Why?”

Then Derpy turned once more, looking outward—and the feeling of being watched grew to an unparalleled intensity. As if not only where some unseen presence were watching her, but as if it were at that moment staring into her pale yellow eyes, looking deep into her thoughts. And as if it for the first time saw her looking back.

“FOUR.”

Pinkie crossed leapt over the counter with unnatural speed, tackling Derpy to the ground and covering her mouth with her hoof. Derpy struggled, but Pinkie just giggled, staring wide-eyed through her tears. Eyes that were supposed to be afraid—but that to Derpy just looked blank and empty.

“Derpy...Derpy,” whispered Pinkie, leaning close and speaking hurriedly. “You have to listen to me! Don’t ever look at it. You can’t look at it, not like that...”

Derpy pulled Pinkie’s hoof away from her mouth. “At what?”

“It’s okay to use it for a joke, a gag, a little funny here and there, but if you look at it...not with your eyes, because...because we don’t have eyes, but with your brains...it will tear you apart! Into itty-bitty pieces! You can’t actually know it’s there, even if you reference it, because…because...”

“Because what?”

Pinkie sat back and blinked. Then she chuckled. “Because nothing. I’m pulling your leg.”

Derpy stood up. “But you said—”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Pinkie, looking over the counter and seeming slightly concerned. “You just walked in here. The little bell rang and everything.” She shrugged. “Unless you’re the ghost of Derpy past. Hey, do you want to try a new cupcake? It’s sterpleberry flavored.”

Derpy took a step back. Pinkie smiled, but the smile was not hers. The room was not warm. It had no temperature, no odor—but the light was strange. It left shadows where shadows were not supposed to exist, and as Pinkie’s blank eyes grew wide, Derpy was sure she was being watched. That she had drawn the attention of something.

“I have to go.”

“But wait! My delicious baked goods!”

Derpy threw open the door and ran into the street. Her body told her that the air was colder, brisker, in its own way refreshing from the warmth of Sugarcube Corner—but her mind corrected her body, telling her that there was no real difference in temperature.

There was a moment of pause in the icy silence—silence that Derpy could not hear but felt. The town around her was functioning, moving—ponies were going about their day, smiling and cheerful, talking to each other. She saw their lips moving, heard their words—but she did not see anything, or hear anything. She knew everyone in town but did not know who they were, or where they lived. She could not remember any of them.

“YOU!” screamed a shrill voice, followed by the sound of pattering hooves. Derpy turned and, oddly, felt a sense of strange relief at the sight of the magenta pony charging toward her. A pony that she recognized for an interaction that would be predictable.

“Spoiled.”

The mare barreled toward Derpy, nearly running into her but instead choosing to loom over her in her fur and leather coat, staring down her oddly pointy nose at the gray mare before her. A mare whose collimated gaze she could not quite meet.

“You little horse,” hissed Spoiled. “You get one cosmetic surgery on the taxpayer dime and suddenly you think you’re so smart.”

Derpy stared at her—but something was wrong. The interaction was pleasant, or at least neutral—but she recognized that it was not supposed to be. Something was failing to connect inside her.

“What are you talking about?”

Spoiled grabbed Derpy by her coat. “After all I’ve done for you, you turn around and give me the poke straight in my flank by taking advantage of my idiot daughter to squeeze my hard-earned bits out of her? What gives you the right?!”

Derpy frowned, still trying to summon a mental response other than confused neutrality. “What did you give me?”

“What did I give you?!” She shoved Derpy back. “I was nice to you, you strumpet moron! I could have gossiped about you relentlessly—but I only did a moderate amount! And frankly, you should be paying me for the privilege of even bothering to talk about a feathered peasant like you! And now—now look at me! With all the money you cost my company with the buyout, I’m not going to be able to afford the rent on my second summer home! I—I should sue you! And could you stop looking at me! Blink or something, you dang reta—”

“Why should I care, though?”

Spoiled seemed to stop in her tracks—if only to seethe. Derpy, though, felt no change. Her mood remained neutral. She felt no change in her mental or emotional status. The question had not been rhetorical.

“To be honest?” she continued, not knowing the exact source where the words came from deep in her mind—and yet knowing in theory exactly where they came from. “It’s excessive. I mean, you’re supposed to be mean, but this is ridiculous. Borderline absurd, even. Like a weird parody of who you’re...supposed to be...”

Spoiled immediately began screaming something increasingly obscene, but Derpy had become distracted. Something had struck a chord with her, and the blow was all the greater through her uncharacteristic apathy. Her eyes had wandered away from Spoiled, looking behind the pink mare—and she saw something.

It was a distortion. A strange, tall shadow seeming to stand next to Spoiled—and it was linked to her, somehow. Derpy’s mind did not yet have the language to describe what she was seeing, but she interpreted them like tendrils—wires, tubes, or the strings of a perverse marionette. Dark invisible things that were somehow, by some accident, apparent to her—threading from the lurking, imperceptible shadow directly into the back of Spoiled’s head.

Then it turned, and it took every ounce of Derpy’s composure to avoid screaming as the eyes faced her. As it looked at her, seeming to notice her for the very first time—but just as she could only halfway see it, it could only halfway see the version of her that she knew herself to be. Rather, it seemed to look inside her—and she felt it. Searching through her, suddenly aware of her every thought and emotion.

She took a step back and saw that Spoiled was still standing before her—but she was no longer moving. Her head hung to one side, her jaw slack and her eyes glassy and empty. She had gone silent, and no longer saw anything at all—and Derpy feared to her core that maybe, just maybe, she never had.

Her mind faded in its field of perception—and she did the only thing that occurred to her. She ran. She ran as hard and as long as she could until she suddenly slammed the door of her house behind her with no memory of the trip to reach it.

Holding back tears, she slid down the door, clutching her head. She did not know why her heart was racing. She had been at Sugarcube Corner, then talked with Spoiled Rich—and then she was at home. She could recall nothing abnormal having happened. She was terrified—but could not remember why.

Comments

[Thought Prism]

Pinkie looked up. “Wow, you look terrible,” she said with her almost annoying squeaky voice. “Like the main character out of a poorly-written horror short story.”

Bullshit, this is amazing. You're like the best existential horror writer on the site. And this chapter is where you really start leaning into that. Your comedies on the other hand... can be hit-or-miss.

[bluewolf263]

Damn, way to lean into your tags! I had expected "Flowers for Algernon", but THIS is unique!

[ponepony]

Sucks to be an early adopter of mind augmentation.

[ibanix]

Woah. Great concept here. A very different twist than I expected.

[Hannah Nelson]

“FOUR.”

Best break I've seen!

[FanOfMostEverything]

Then Derpy turned once more, looking outward—and the feeling of being watched grew to an unparalleled intensity. As if not only where some unseen presence were watching her, but as if it were at that moment staring into her pale yellow eyes, looking deep into her thoughts. And as if it for the first time saw her looking back.

Hello. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Fascinating and horrifying in equal measure. Looking forward to seeing the consequences of piercing the veil and whatever else Derpy becomes capable of, even as I dread both.

[Boltstrike58]

Pinkie looked up. “Wow, you look terrible,” she said with her almost annoying squeaky voice. “Like the main character out of a poorly-written horror short story.”

Pinkie, this is the worst possible time!

“Well of course there’s four, silly! Three is not enough! How else are we supposed to hold up the roof?”

“You can see it too.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Derpy! You sure are a silly pony!” She giggled wildly.

Derpy pointed at a wall. “One...”

Pinkie’s smile grew as tears began to well in her eyes. “Derpy please stop. I can—I can give you another cupcake, I have cookies in the back, just—”

Derpy moved her hoof. “Two...”

Pinkie whimpered through her smile. “Derpy, no, don’t—”

“Three...”

Tears rolled down Pinkie’s cheeks. “Why?”

Then Derpy turned once more, looking outward—and the feeling of being watched grew to an unparalleled intensity. As if not only where some unseen presence were watching her, but as if it were at that moment staring into her pale yellow eyes, looking deep into her thoughts. And as if it for the first time saw her looking back.

“FOUR.”

Pinkie crossed leapt over the counter with unnatural speed, tackling Derpy to the ground and covering her mouth with her hoof. Derpy struggled, but Pinkie just giggled, staring wide-eyed through her tears. Eyes that were supposed to be afraid—but that to Derpy just looked blank and empty.

“Derpy...Derpy,” whispered Pinkie, leaning close and speaking hurriedly. “You have to listen to me! Don’t ever look at it. You can’t look at it, not like that...”

Derpy pulled Pinkie’s hoof away from her mouth. “At what?”

“It’s okay to use it for a joke, a gag, a little funny here and there, but if you look at it...not with your eyes, because...because we don’t have eyes, but with your brains...it will tear you apart! Into itty-bitty pieces! You can’t actually know it’s there, even if you reference it, because…because...”

...okay, maybe not the worst possible time.