Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
Sleight of Mind
Pesco rapped on the metal bars, gently waking the unicorn within.
“Sorry to bother you in the middle of the night like this, ma’am,” he whispered. “Would you happen to be Ms. Corduroy?”
As her bleary eyes adjusted to the darkness of the zeppelin’s brig, Corduroy could distinctly make out the face of an unfamiliar stallion. “You’ll get yourself killed like this, newbie,” she hissed. “I haven’t seen a guard’s face for over a year now, and with good reason. Didn’t they give you instructions about me?”
“Oh, I’m not a new hire here, ma’am. In fact, I’m not even supposed to be on this ship, y’see.”
Corduroy’s eyes narrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”
“You can think of me as an auditor, of sorts. You know, a kind of government watchdog against itself? Really, I just get paid to skulk around. Anyway, name’s Pesco. I stumbled across your dossier a couple weeks ago—and call me thick, but no matter how many times I read it, I swear some things just don’t add up? I was hoping you could make it a little clearer for me.”
Corduroy lay her head back down on the pile of hay that served as her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “I was born with a special magic to brainwash ponies upon eye contact. I abused that power, screwed up and got caught. Here I am. What’s unclear about that?”
“I’m sorry to hear that; gee, if I had that power when I was your age, after all, I’m sure I would’ve made some mistakes!” Pesco shook his head. “Anyway, what did you get busted doing?”
“What, is it not in your files?” Corduroy brought her head close to the bars, and opened her eyes wide to meet the auditor’s. “Now a question for you: What’s to stop me from using my power right now to—”
“Volition?” he interrupted. “Sorry, rude of me, but that’s my best guess. No, though, it’s not in my files. I’ve heard as much through the grapevine, and paper trails say you’ve been locked up for nineteen months now. But nope, no official crime report, no court transcripts, no warrants for your arrest. You figure that stuff is usually pretty accessible, right? It’s almost like your offense is a shared hallucination...”
“My power in the wrong hooves would spell disaster, Pesco. They’ve buried my file deep.”
“Yeah, but lemme tell you, in my line of work it’s quite unus—ah, nevermind. How’s about we talk about what is in my files?” He whipped out a photo, and held it close to the bars. Corduroy focused on it... It depicted a young stallion being restrained to a bed by two attendants in white scrubs.
She recoiled in visceral horror, slamming into the back of her cell. “Where did you get this!? Why would you…?” She tried without great success to choke back a sob.
Pesco retired the photograph back into his pocket. “Don’t worry, Ms. Corduroy, this is an old photograph. Nineteen months old, at this point. Nah, your former schoolmate is doing a lot better these days; you know I paid him a visit just last week? Staff told me they’re hoping to release him within the month.” Corduroy raised her head from her hooves; in her eyes a timid hope glinted through the shadows.
“I imagine constantly tinkering around inside a pony’s psyche, the subconscious stress quickly adds up, huh? But it seems, the mind has a way of healing itself. Or maybe it’s simply time dissolving the memory of youthful indiscretions...” Pesco appeared lost in thought, then caught himself. “Oh, I should ask: This news wouldn’t be giving you the idea to make a great escape of sorts soon, would it? To end your little self-imposed penance on the taxpayer’s bit? ‘Course we can’t really stop you either way, but if you do go, I might suggest you check out the same way you checked in. Save bureaucrats like me some headache.”
“I… I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you ma’am. That’ll be all from me.” He turned to walk away, before raising a hoof and glancing back. “Oh, would you know what your special somepony said, when I visited him and mentioned your name?” He left Corduroy hanging for a good few moments. “Nothing. Said he barely remembered some girl from math class.”
The prisoner reclined back into bed, a sublime look on her face. “I think I’ll like to keep it that way. Thank you, Pesco.”
“Sorry to bother you in the middle of the night like this, ma’am,” he whispered. “Would you happen to be Ms. Corduroy?”
As her bleary eyes adjusted to the darkness of the zeppelin’s brig, Corduroy could distinctly make out the face of an unfamiliar stallion. “You’ll get yourself killed like this, newbie,” she hissed. “I haven’t seen a guard’s face for over a year now, and with good reason. Didn’t they give you instructions about me?”
“Oh, I’m not a new hire here, ma’am. In fact, I’m not even supposed to be on this ship, y’see.”
Corduroy’s eyes narrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”
“You can think of me as an auditor, of sorts. You know, a kind of government watchdog against itself? Really, I just get paid to skulk around. Anyway, name’s Pesco. I stumbled across your dossier a couple weeks ago—and call me thick, but no matter how many times I read it, I swear some things just don’t add up? I was hoping you could make it a little clearer for me.”
Corduroy lay her head back down on the pile of hay that served as her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “I was born with a special magic to brainwash ponies upon eye contact. I abused that power, screwed up and got caught. Here I am. What’s unclear about that?”
“I’m sorry to hear that; gee, if I had that power when I was your age, after all, I’m sure I would’ve made some mistakes!” Pesco shook his head. “Anyway, what did you get busted doing?”
“What, is it not in your files?” Corduroy brought her head close to the bars, and opened her eyes wide to meet the auditor’s. “Now a question for you: What’s to stop me from using my power right now to—”
“Volition?” he interrupted. “Sorry, rude of me, but that’s my best guess. No, though, it’s not in my files. I’ve heard as much through the grapevine, and paper trails say you’ve been locked up for nineteen months now. But nope, no official crime report, no court transcripts, no warrants for your arrest. You figure that stuff is usually pretty accessible, right? It’s almost like your offense is a shared hallucination...”
“My power in the wrong hooves would spell disaster, Pesco. They’ve buried my file deep.”
“Yeah, but lemme tell you, in my line of work it’s quite unus—ah, nevermind. How’s about we talk about what is in my files?” He whipped out a photo, and held it close to the bars. Corduroy focused on it... It depicted a young stallion being restrained to a bed by two attendants in white scrubs.
She recoiled in visceral horror, slamming into the back of her cell. “Where did you get this!? Why would you…?” She tried without great success to choke back a sob.
Pesco retired the photograph back into his pocket. “Don’t worry, Ms. Corduroy, this is an old photograph. Nineteen months old, at this point. Nah, your former schoolmate is doing a lot better these days; you know I paid him a visit just last week? Staff told me they’re hoping to release him within the month.” Corduroy raised her head from her hooves; in her eyes a timid hope glinted through the shadows.
“I imagine constantly tinkering around inside a pony’s psyche, the subconscious stress quickly adds up, huh? But it seems, the mind has a way of healing itself. Or maybe it’s simply time dissolving the memory of youthful indiscretions...” Pesco appeared lost in thought, then caught himself. “Oh, I should ask: This news wouldn’t be giving you the idea to make a great escape of sorts soon, would it? To end your little self-imposed penance on the taxpayer’s bit? ‘Course we can’t really stop you either way, but if you do go, I might suggest you check out the same way you checked in. Save bureaucrats like me some headache.”
“I… I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you ma’am. That’ll be all from me.” He turned to walk away, before raising a hoof and glancing back. “Oh, would you know what your special somepony said, when I visited him and mentioned your name?” He left Corduroy hanging for a good few moments. “Nothing. Said he barely remembered some girl from math class.”
The prisoner reclined back into bed, a sublime look on her face. “I think I’ll like to keep it that way. Thank you, Pesco.”