Chapter 11: A Hollow Heart Remembers
Seething Mass
“Come along now, Seething Mass! We have much to discuss!” Barnabus is calling; I feel I have to go. Tor doesn't seem very happy about that, but there isn't really much I can do.
Perhaps a week before Tor and I met in my Alchemyst's kitchen to measure out his Decorations. Somepony really put a lot of work into making them difficult to remove, and complex healing work had to be done in order to keep the countersunk screws in his leg bones from coming out, I'd imagine there is some sort of locking edge along the screw to keep it firmly in place.
Oh dear, I've gotten off track again.
Well Tor didn't really want to discuss the Decoration process; I suppose I can understand that. He is kindhearted, even if he can't quite follow my ideas about sympathetic string vibrations representing the universe at large. Then again, Twilight Sparkle seems to be the only one who understands those anyways. Even Barnabus Thom reacts in what I can assume is a rather bewildered respect.
Back to the present Seething! I happen to know Tor has somepony-else he needs to see today, Rarity herself asked me to help her so I agreed not to bog Tor down during this festive day. The simplest way to do that is to bring in Barnabus. I guess I can't really say I brought in Barnabus, like he is some sort of Tor-deterrent I summon up when required. He has something, and somepony, with which he would like me to discuss.
"Hurry up Seething, she is very punctual and she likes to be on time.” Barnabus is testy, as usual. I've found him exceedingly intelligent; in the weeks since the incident at SwiftSand Gorge we have had many the lengthy discussion about mechanisms and various clockwork items. He's even taught me some rudimentary knowledge on the way unicorn magic works; although he found it strange I didn't already know. My own magic is relatively useless, I can produce a few mint-green sparks but without my horn's full length I am completely unable to produce any useful telekinesis spells, although Barnabus and I did learn I can make a rather exciting burst of lightning if I concentrate. He said afterwards it was a very good thing porcelain isn't a good conductor of electricity. I have been looking through Twilight's medical section to see if there might be some feasible way of repairing my horn, although it doesn't seem likely that I will ever have as much control as a normal unicorn over my magical energies.
Barnabus Thom leads us finally to a park bench, where standing is a tall, lean earthpony mare. Grey coat, grey mane, the same color. Her eyes are silver, and I can't help but think that there isn't a distinguishing feature about her. She seems forgettable. Even her cutie mark is plain, a simple silver circle. "Seething Mass, most pleasant to finally meet you. Barnabus Thom and I are friends from way back, and he recently said you had some very interesting theories." her voice is quiet. Not too loud, not too soft, her tone is not solidly robotic and monotone but she has a tendency to humm out the softer consonants, but again somewhat forgettable.
I speak. "M-most, I am most pleased to m-meet you. Might I ask your name and profession? I find it easier to remember ponies that way."
"So very polite, and direct. I like that in business. My name is Cilia, and I am the director of a scientific research effort sanctioned by Princess Celestia aimed at finding new sources of energy." A small twitch of the lip, often indicative of nervousness or amusement. Shifting weight subtly, a standard movement common when ponies are at-ease. She is unnerved by my presence, like most, but she seems to have a great deal of self-control.
Looking around me I see foals playing, farmers and seamstresses and wagon-pullers, a few ponies that pull carts for a living, numerous ponies in the candies and sweets business, all low-energy jobs. Canterlot doesn't seem to use much electricity, mostly magic. I speak my thoughts; I am somehow incredibly at-ease.
"New sources of energy? I wasn't aware we had a shortage. There seem to be few devices that work using electricity, are there other regions where these technologies are m-mmore preh, prr-prevalent?"
Both ears lower slightly, textbook sign for aggression, emotional affection, embarrassment, or enthusiasm. As I find it unlikely that Cilia wishes to fight or court me at this time, and she has nothing to be embarrassed about, I think it is more likely that she's knows a great deal about what she is going to discuss and is preparing herself mentally to inform me. That collection of writings on reading pony body-language has been most helpful in my day-to-day social dealings, as few as they are. I wish Twilight Sparkle had told me about it earlier.
Cilia speaks. "Well you see in the past few years numerous new devices have been invented, many of which require electrical power, but in reality it is mostly a matter of defense. Recently Equestria has been put under a lot of stress due to outside forces. A changeling attack, the antics of Discord, the return of Nightmare Moon, all of these events ended well enough, but Celestia feels that additional measures should be taken. In addition as I understand it the Griffon nations have been using electrical power for centuries to make up for their lack of magic, and they have created some truly amazing innovations that Celestia feels could benefit our Equestrian nation."
Equestria creating a power grid for a national defense system? I can’t help but voice my concerns.
"This d-defense, is it weaponry? How are you going to do this?"
This seems most incongruous with my previous assesment of Equestria. Did the defense of the nation not previously rest upon the Elements of Harmony? Shields powered by unicorn magic might? Cilia speaks excitedly now, though still oddly humming her words in a low voice.
"Oh no, we aren't building weapons. We are building a shield. Before now we have relied on unicorns to protect areas with magic, but we are working on a device that can use energy to do that instead. That is where you come in."
Barnabus speaks now. I don't know why, but whenever he speaks the word, "British", pops into my head. I don't know what a British is, or why I think of it as capitalized, but there it is. His emotions are somewhat harder to read than the average pony, partly because of his missing ear and lensed eyes but also because of his cloth wrappings. He shifts his weight from his back right hoof to his front left, a sign I have come to associate with nervousness in his case.
"When I...when this happened to me and my daughter," he waves a hoof in front of his face, indicating the porcelain skin that lies beneath. "Cilia studied the burst of magic that caused it. She tried to help us, get us well."
Cilia nodded. "I thought electrical energy might hold the secret to reversing the condition, acting as a booster to magical power."
Barnabus resumes speaking; grinding his teeth together as Cilia speaks. He is frustrated, slightly annoyed, but why? Isn't Cilia a friend of his? Then again, seemingly the only pony he isn't irritated with constantly is me, oddly enough.
"It didn't work." Oh, that explains things. "Still, she tried hard and we've remained friends ever since. I told her about our talks, Seething, about your sympathetic strings theory, and other worlds. It seems she already knows something about all of that."
Cilia. "Absolutely. Barny..." Barnabus cringes visibly at the nickname. I don't need to decipher his body-language to recognize that this is a good name to stow away as a comeback later. "...Barny told me about your ideas and I was most impressed. You see our idea for limitless energy is rather complicated, and it would take a long time to explain, but essentially it hinges on using a portal to siphon stray wasted energy from other universes to use in our own. You claim to have arrived at your current string-theory all on your own?"
Energy from other universes, other places. Some, other place…
In my mind I can see him…a bright lime-green unicorn…his mane is short, purple…fields of green, darker green than he is. There is a storm above, a howling wind claws at him but he doesn’t seem to notice.
He is collapsed in the field…his legs are broken, in great pain…but he lifts his head and looks around, at the clouds, at the grass, his eyes sting in the wind. He smiles weakly, he is so happy in that moment, despite what I said to him and despite how I hurt him…how did I hurt you, Picket?
His head falls to the ground, eyes close, not dead just asleep. Picket sleeps, as figures trot over the hilltop…
“Seething Mass? Seething are you quite alright?”
“He’s fine, he goes all wonky every once in a while, wake up you git!”
Present, I am in the present day, I think therefore I am here with Cilia and Barnabus Thom. Apparently they are waiting for me to speak. “I am very sorry, did you ask me a question?”
Cilia’s face relaxes, she was concerned. Barnabus stands impassive, emotions hidden beneath his shroud of black wrappings. Cilia speaks. “That’s quite alright. I was asking if you arrived at your current string-theory all by yourself.”
Yes, the theory. “Somewhat, I made extensive use of Twilight Sparkle’s library, but the idea was my own as far as I can tell. My memories are, incomplete, so I do not know if I truly came up with the theory on my own. It could possibly have been somepony else’s.”
Cilia nods. “Well regardless, you somehow arrived at a very similar theory to what my team has discovered. Where you got your idea I do not know, but if you arrived at such an exotic realization by yourself then you would no doubt be valuable to our efforts. We would like you to join our research and development team, KRONOS. Barnabus, the schematics please?”
Barnabus reaches into a small bag and pulls out a set of papers, blueprints with some sort of machine. Instantly I recognize the shapes, though they seem somewhat different, as the outlines of a simple generator. “You will make the energy with this device?”
Cilia. “Yes, this is a generator that will take the raw energy we collect and focus it into a useable product.” Barnabus hoofs me another blueprint, this time with a complicated device that looks somewhat like a massive tower with a bladed ring of knives at various points along its height. “And this is the Dimensional Energy Extraction Profiler, we call it D.E.E.P. It will essentially allow us to look through the various multiverses, to navigate beyond the boundaries of our universe!”
These designs are primitive, for some reason I can’t help but notice where structures are wrong. So many improvements could be made here, but how do I know this? I have never seen a device like this before, haven’t even thought of the possibility of moving to other regions of the multi-space my sympathetic string theory proposes, or perhaps I have. I don’t remember.
“Parts of this are wrong. I could help correct them, if you’d like.” Cilia looks overjoyed, in a passive and somewhat artificial way.
“Excellent! I’m afraid I must depart, but Barnabus has more in-depth plans at his home. I’m sure he’d be willing to show them to you. Welcome, Seething Mass, you are now a member of KRONOS. The Princesses will be very pleased to know we have such a bright new mind on the project.”
“Of course, I am honored to be a part.”
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Cilia has left, now Barnabus is taking me to his home to further debrief me on the project’s plans. “I’m positively thrilled you are on the project, I am afraid I don’t have near your wits about these sorts of things, I just know the gears and such. I figure out how to build it mostly. And don’t worry, she may be a bit annoying but Cilia is one of the most intelligent mares I know.”
“I didn’t think she was annoying, a little different that’s all.”
“Well I suppose you are right, regardless with your influence I am hopeful for the future of this project. The princess was thinking about scrapping it, I’ll have you know.”
Barnabus seems oddly excited, usually he isn’t this jubilant. He grows more reserved as we reach his home, however, and when we are outside the front door he tells me why.
“Seething Mass, I must ask you something.” His head is downward, signifying emotions of fear, shame, sadness, regret, or guilt. “I have never before let you see her, but it is time for you to meet my daughter, Desdemona. The princesses were…unable to help cure us after the accident, but they were able to keep us from further harm. In order to keep my daughter alive, they had to,” He breathes in a ragged wet breath, and begins hacking violently before resuming. “They had to stop us from growing, so that we wouldn’t grow out of our porcelain skins. My daughter was just a filly then, just a child, and she still looks like one now, but please…” He is interrupted by a noise from inside the home, a terribly hollow sound. Barnabus tensed, and then shaking with rage tore from inside his wrappings a large key. Into the house we ran, Barnabus loping along with more balance and speed than I had ever seen him move before. Up the stairs, down the hall to a room I had never entered before.
The room holds two occupants, one a tiny filly in a pink dress and bonnet, from whose bleeding lips the cry had no doubt emanated. Standing before her, looking desperately worried, is Tor Ironclad.
Several thoughts stream through my head in that moment. Tor and I frozen as partially stone statues in the Everfree forest, myself realizing what it is like to have a friend. Tor and I meeting at my home on Sweet Apple Acres, agreeing to let me build him a device which would later save lives in Swiftsand Gorge, meeting at Sugarcube Corner to discuss his new job, his new life, my various intellectual pursuits. All of those times when my mind was torn, in all those months the Apple family always knew that they could call upon Tor to stabilize my mind, remind me that I was sane, and return me to joyful awareness.
This same Tor had broken into Barnabus Thom’s home.
--------------------------------------------
Tor fled. We aren’t sure what happened. I’ve never seen Barnabus look so worried before, never seen so much concern and care and love from his as when he carefully knelt down to dab a bit of blood off of Desdemona’s face. He’s holding her now, and she no longer crying tears, and I find that suddenly there is not enough space for me in this tiny room. Out of place again, I’m out of place.
Two voices speak to one-another. There is no emotion in the one, and the other tries desperately to garner attention. It is a small voice, a child’s voice.
“What do you want, I’m busy.”
“I was wondering if we could go to a movie today, there is one I think you’d like. It’s about math, I think, A Beautiful Mind.”
“It’s not about math, nothing more than a dramatization, a sick parody of a man’s life. We aren’t going.”
“But, you can tell me more about it. I’d be a good listener. I would be quite all the way there and-“
“Be quiet now, I have to concentrate on this it’s important.”
“Ok.”
“For Faust’s sake snap out of it! I need you Seething Mass!”
Barnabus is there, suddenly, and the emotionless voice and the child are gone.
“I’m so sorry Barnabus, what can I do to help?”
He sighs deeply. “I’m sorry too Seething, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I just want you to stay with Desdemona, she says she’s ok but I want you to make sure her jaw doesn’t break any more while I get some supplies.”
“Of course, I’ll wait here.”
Barnabus swiftly leaves the room, but his gait is more measured. He is no longer recklessly charging through the halls like he was when we heard the scream. Desdemona’s injury must not be that bad. She is lying down on her bed now, Barnabus carefully carried her over and now she is errantly sketching with magic. The drawing is of a beautiful unicorn maiden wearing a dress and a hennin. She is in a castle, and terribly sad. I can’t help but realize the quality of the sketch, the emotion in the piece is clear and I don’t need to read her body language to determine her mood.
“Desdemona, are you lonely?”
She looks up at me and I can see the tears in her eyes. She talks quietly, lips barely opening to avoid stressing the crack in her jaw. “I didn’t mean to scare him away, he caught me by surprise. Father never has guests, when the pony in the suit of iron came I didn’t know what to do. I, I wish I hadn’t reacted like that. Is he a knight?”
“He is not a knight, not that I know of. He once helped the weak, he hunted bad ponies.” She hasn’t stopped her drawing, and now an enormous dragon has taken shape on the page, guarding the princess in the tower. “He is my friend.”
“Why was he here? Why did father chase him away?”
“Well, sometimes two ponies don’t like each other very much. I don’t know why he was here, but your father and him don’t get along. Please don’t talk so much, you’ll strain your jaw. How about you show me your, dollies?” I am uncomfortable with children. Tor can always get a child to laugh, he always knows just how to tell a joke, play a game, throw a child in the air just high enough so that they giggle madly as they come down safely into his iron forelegs. I do not know children well. They make me nervous, and I do not know what to say.
“I’m not a child you know, please don’t speak down at me.”
I should have anticipated that. Barnabus’ words return to me. “I-I…s-sorry, your, forgot, d-d-d-didn’t r-r-r-r…”
She speaks, she sounds more confident now. “It’s ok, I anticipated this. I assure you I am not a child. And I’m not dumb, either. Father has been teaching me for years, ever since the accident. I’m as old mentally as you are, really.”
Suddenly I have the urge to laugh out loud. She is surprised by my outburst, but soon she is laughing as well. Her laugh is a tiny, bright sound. Like a bell ringing in the crisp winter air. It is much more wholesome than her scream, there is only a hint of hollowness in her laughter, just a hint of sadness. It is matched by my own somewhat hollow laughter. Finally we regain our composure, and I speak once more.
“I am very sorry f-f-or that, Miss. Allow me to introduce myself pruh, prop…properly. I am Seething Mass, I am a friend of your father’s.”
She stands and curtsies. Difficult to believe this tiny creature is as old as Rarity and Twilight and the rest. “Good Sir Mass, I am Lady Desdemona, and it is an honor to meet you, though I do wish the circumstances had not been this unorthodox.”
She extends a hoof delicately. I kneel and kiss it as is commonly demanded by social etiquette. Her skin is cold, though not chilled. Somewhere deep inside there is warmth.
“An honor to meet you, Lady Desdemona. I trust you are feeling better?”
“Much. So who are you, exactly? Does my father know you from work?”
“I will be working with your father. I am…fear, I don’t, I….I’m afraid I really don’t know who I am. I can’t remember, it was lost somewhere. “
“That’s, horrible.” She is quiet a moment, head turned down, when once again she matches my grey eyes with her glassy pink. “Whoever you were, I’m sure you were a good pony.”
Barnabus returns, and immediately without ceremony begins applying a white crusty paste to the cracks in Desdemona’s skin. She rolls her eyes over her father’s shoulder when he kneels down to grab a bandage. Despite myself I chuckle quietly. He finishes quickly, charging the bandage with a small burst of magic then sealing it over the crack. His magic aura floods Desdemona’s face with a rusty-red light, and the paste beneath the bandage crinkles and cracks like breaking glass.
“What are you doing?” I ask. Barnabus looks at me for the first time, he looks weary and sounds exhausted.
“In Canterlot I made dolls. My special talent…I could make the finest porcelain. Her cheek should be fine.” He lifts the bandage, running a last smoothing wave of magic over Desdemona’s face. “Smooth, I used to be well-known for this talent. I couldn’t think of a better use for it now than to help my daughter. Do you know what it’s like Seething, to have children? To value someone so much, you’d do anything for them?”
There are again two voices, speaking back and forth. One is angry, enraged by something trivial and irrelevant. The other is pleading at first, desperate to gain sympathy, to let Anger understand nothing is wrong, but soon there is anger in this voice as well. Noise bellowing, disappointment and shame and sadness and heartbreak, all these emotions flood through like such torrents of tears.
And then there is the sound of gasping, hacking coughs. And four small whispered words finish breaking a heart that lies cold and unused inside a shell, a shell which breaks open to reveal a twisting undulating seething pile of matter and rot and uncertainty within.
“I have ALS, Dad.”
I am chilled by the vision, and I inexplicably feel ashamed. “I, I think…maybe…I did. M-mean, mmuh….What, whatever that m-means.”
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By all means, please do! We are both amateur writers, and we know that there is plenty we need to work on to get better so any critique is valued! Feedback more than anything is of great value to us, and we would definitely love to hear what you have to say. I'm glad you like the story so far!
Signed,
Ann lies 