Chapter 18. Imaginary Weapons
"What the hell did you pair of reprobates do to me this time?" I demanded. Hadn't I used those exact words the last time I woke? I had lost track of how long I had been unconscious this time; the lack of any day-night cycle was perplexing. And the pain hadn't just been in my head this time, either. Damn, that had hurt; it defined a level of pain I had not had previously experienced. At least, the last time bastards had cut me open for their experiments, they had the decency to put me to sleep before they started cutting. For that matter, why did this pair of bastards have me pick up this weapon in the first place? They could have just as easily installed this part at the same time as other part they had installed the last time they had me out cold.
Now I was leaning menacingly against their tank, casually fingering their connections to the outside world.
"We gave you our best weapon," Brainstorm replied innocently. "Why all the fuss? Why the melodrama, the big fall on the floor, and all the thrashing about?"
"Not to mention the long nap afterwards," Brainstorm, part two added.
"Because I was in agony, you retarded geniuses!" I yelled at them.
"Oh, I see. That really wasn't meant to happen. The combination should have been quite painless," Brainstorm claimed.
"Well, it bloody wasn't. Why the hell didn't you just install it when you installed the other part? What was the other part anyway? And where the hell is it now?" I fired off questions in quick succession.
"We couldn't install both parts at once. Concoction ninety two, version nine, which we injected you with earlier, needed time to prepare your body to accept the weapon. That was probably what caused you the pain last time, but it should have stopped the pain this time," Brainstorm explained.
"And where is the weapon now?" I tried again.
"It's integrated into your body. It is the ultimate stealth weapon. You can take it anywhere without anypony even knowing you have it. Even if they knew, they could not take it from you."
"Great, so they kill me instead," I responded. "You didn't think that one through, did you?"
"It was considered an acceptable risk, because you can always fight back, not to mention they will probably already expect you to be able form blades and tools with that body of yours."
"You do have a point, as much as I hate to admit it," I conceded. "but that does not mean I consider what you did to be ethical, considerate, or even right. I still hate you at the moment. What will I have to do to stop you seeing me as your experimental subject?"
"Finish the experiment?" Brainstorm responded, brightly.
"And what would that involve, dare I ask?" I almost growled.
"Deploy the weapon and fire it," Brainstorm suggested.
I pointed my hoof at them, pretended to reach for the grip as I had with the pistol, and said "bang".
"Good grief, sweetie, don't do that. You could have killed us!" Brainstorm gasped. How a voice that was been transmitted into my head telepathically could gasp, I didn't know, but he managed to do so, nonetheless.
"What? By pointing my hoof at you?" I asked, incredulous.
"Do that again, but with real intent, instead of joking. Picture the pistol you were using earlier. Oh, and point it away from us, please," Brainstorm, part one suggested.
"And since we are in the lab and not the shooting range, if at all possible, don't fire," Brainstorm, part two added.
Imagine the gun is there? Okay. Earlier, I had imagined the grip was in my fingers when that pistol had been folded up on my leg, and as I had reached for the grip, the pistol had reconfigured itself and placed its grip within my grasp. So I had do the same thing, even though I did not have the pistol. Instead I had the monstrosity that had cut its way into me instead. I didn't know what the result should look like, so I just pictured the pistol again, and closed my fingers on the... how the hell did that get there? I was holding the pistol again. It was sitting correctly, clamped to my retracted hoof wall. I released the grip, wishing it would fold back, and it did. So far, so good. Now, was this the actual pistol from before? I wasn't so sure it was.
I walked back into the showroom and checked the display case where I had left the pistol, and there it still sat. Lifting my hoof, I reached for the grip of the pistol wrapped around my leg, and it unfolded, putting its grip in my grasp again. It was definitely not the same pistol, but was a copy of the pistol as I had remembered it. I reached for the loading button, but found there wasn't one. Only the safety and trigger were present in this version. Did it read intent for this too? Reaching into the open drawer below the display cabinet with my other forehoof, I retrieved another of the demonstration cartridges, and went to load it into the new pistol. It responded as I wished, opening and accepting the cartridge, closing as soon as the cartridge was in position. Aiming at the ceiling, I fired, and was rewarded with one of those delightful luminescent gas trails.
So it was as simple as that, was it? That whole nasty looking contraption meant I had a pistol hidden inside me that I could recall as I wished? No, there had to be more than that. If picturing the pistol made me capable of reproducing it, would picturing one of their other weapons do? I walked over to one of the other display cabinets, reared up, and grabbed the long barreled weapon from within. This this was fairly cumbersome, and was simply too big for it to fold itself into a boot when not in use. I didn't load it, or try to get it to transform or anything. I simply held it and stared at it until I had the general feel of it. I placing it back in the display cabinet. I then pictured myself holding it again, closing my fingers around where the grips had been. As I did, the pistol, which was still pretending to be a boot on my right forehoof, shimmered, liquefied and began morphing into a duplicate of the larger gun. Within moments, I was holding a substantial replica of it. As the pistol had still contained the demonstration cartridge when it morphed, I expected it would also be loaded in this weapon. Pointing at the ceiling, I fingered the trigger, and a bright red puff of luminescent gas blasted out of the barrel, hit the ceiling, and became an umbrella of spreading color. Bigger gun. More force. Actually, I realized, the reason this gun had more force than the pistol was merely because I assumed it would have. Brainstorm had told me earlier that projectile force, and in the case of internally manufactured ammunition, bullet mass, were under the control of my mind.
"Well, you blighters, have I got the drift of this thing, or is there more?" I asked bluntly.
"There is more. At the moment you are just emulating existing weapons and firing prepackaged ammunition. Even if you had loaded it with metal, you would still be operating on assumptions. Do you recall what we said was special about this weapon's requirements?" Brainstorm answered.
"I do. You needed a live unicorn's horn: one still attached to its unicorn," I answered.
"Can you see the difference in concept?"
"Not really. The dead horn in the pistol pretty much managed to do everything needed," I answered.
"It did everything we programmed it to do. Sure, it was programmed to do a lot, but that's it. It cannot do anything outside of that. A live horn removes that restriction. You were supplied with basic weapon operating skills when we first restored your horn. More were added when we gave you concoction ninety two, version nine. Since then, you have subconsciously written several new spells yourself, when you copied those existing designs," Brainstorm said.
"So while you would be able to design anything I could come up with, the difference is I don't need to come back here to get the weapon made and programmed by you. Instead I could do it right there and then, as the situation required," I proffered, my mind already ticking over, contemplating some of the possibilities.
"Yes, yes. You are getting the idea," Brainstorm enthused.
"Fine," I said, pointing my newly created gun at the display cabinet where the original lay. I pulled the trigger, and there was a splash of color, but not because of the cartridge of iridescent gas that was loaded. I had completely bypassed that with new programming.
"What did you just do?" Brainstorm asked, aghast.
"You can see? Of course you can," I responded. "I shot your display case with a spell."
I had used a spell as ammunition. It had been a simple spell, but satisfying. It totally ruined their beautiful electric blue theme. The satin of the case I had just shot was now scarlet velvet.
"I shot you were it hurts most," I answered.
"You horrible mare," Brainstorm responded. I wasn't entirely sure if he was serious or joking.
"Now is there anywhere I can fire this thing without causing too much grief?" I asked, casually aiming it in the direction of their tank.
"The other door in the showroom leads to our private shooting range. It is a simple affair designed to allow customers test the weapons prior to purchase," Brainstorm responded, speaking rapidly, as if I might pull the trigger before he got all his words out.
"It would have been rather difficult to allow them to test this weapon prior to purchase, wouldn't it?" I asked. "What if the would-be purchaser didn't want the bloody thing after you had installed it?"
"How could they not want it? That is inconceivable! But yes, you are correct. Such testing would not be possible," Brainstorm agreed. "That would be something we would need to work to overcome. Perhaps, instead of trying the weapon in person, they would have to watch a demonstration. You, for example, would have to demonstrate it for the next customer, and so on. The point is moot now, anyway. Instead we will have to limit our satisfaction to the scientific aspects of the project, and so far, that appears to be quite successful."
"With the exception of angering our test subject," Brainstorm, part two, added.
"And she is rather angry at that," I added, referring to myself in the third person. "I only hope you two do not find out how angry she is, especially as you two idiots have literally just put your best weapon in her hooves!"
With that, I toddled over to the indicated door, remaining on my rear legs as I could not be bothered reforming the weapon for such a short trip. The door to the shooting range opened with a hoof tap to its control pad. The lights faded in as I stepped into the long, thin room. The door closed behind me, presumably for safety. The walls of the shooting range seemed to be a little too bright for the amount of light that was hitting them, so I extended my fingers and felt the surface of one, while studying it. Indeed, the area of shadow I was casting wasn't as pronounced as it should be, a creamish glow evident. Ah! The walls were protected by a spell to prevent bullets from penetrating them.
Bullets, that was an idea. I needed some. Faint outlines on the wall beside me suggested there was an opening panel there, so I tapped it, and was rewarded with a drawer sliding out. Lined up within were conveniently sized ammunition blocks, for lack of a better description. A block of steel, a block of ceramic, a block of soap, and cartridge of water were sitting there, ready for selection. The other shriveled item was presumably all that remained of a carrot. I went straight for the hard stuff, grasping the block of steel, and offering it to the weapon, which, as I wished, reached out and consumed it.
Right, how do I aim this thing? Some sights would be good. As I thought about it, I realized the ideal situation would be to have a visible marker appear directly in my vision, and have it follow where the weapon was pointed. Trying to sight along the barrel would be damn inconvenient. Would that be possible? I had spells; I had Hellite eyes that generated their own light when needed, and I had some sort of mega-complex gun that had merged with my body at the modifier level. If such a sight wasn't possible, I'd beat Brainstorm around the tank in annoyance. I'm sure they'd really love the din. Hopefully it would give them headaches. While pondering how to create such a sight, I squeezed off a few rounds, surprised when they hit pretty much where I was hoping to aim. Scratch that. They hit exactly where I was looking. How was that possible? Without making any conscious attempt to aim, I looked towards the upper left quadrant of the target of concentric circles. How about putting a bullet right through the very edge of the outermost ring? Could I do it?
Pft.
A large cross hair on the target itself had lit to show the point of impact. Well, what do you know? Somehow I had managed to put the bullet exactly where I had wanted to. I used my eyes to target the opposite edge. Pft. The target again responded by marking where I had wished to hit, and thus had. Three more shots resulted in three more well placed hits. As of yet, I had not consciously created any spells to do this. I didn't think I had done it unconsciously either. Could this be the work of...
"Brainstorm?" I yelled. "Does this weapon have automatic targeting built in?"
As Brainstorm's voices were transmitted directly into my mind, they didn't need to yell their response. "Of course it has automatic targeting, sweetie. Even the other models have assisted targeting if you want to use it. With this one, we went that extra step and fully integrated it."
"So wherever I look I hit?" I asked.
"Wherever you look with intent, you target. That target will remain selected even if your eyes wander a little, for example if you were seeking a better place to shoot. However, if you lose sight of the target or look away, you will need to retarget before you can shoot at it again. If you have not mentally selected a target, no amount of trigger pulling will get the weapon to fire: a safety feature."
"You do realize the safest option would be to not have a gun in the first place?" I offered.
"You mock us," Brainstorm responded.
"Sometimes the truth hurts," I countered as I put a few more slugs into the target. These guns were nice and quiet... nay, they were nasty and quiet.
Hmm, what if... I stopped shooting, ejected the remains of the block of metal and the cartridge of iridescent gas that had been left in there from before. Who knew where that hid itself while the block of metal had been loaded? Now the gun was as it would be if I found myself in an awkward situation, unprepared. My only course of action in such a situation would be to fire off a spell. Mentally I began compiling my ideas. The material change spell from earlier wasn't a bad starting point.
"Aneki, are you all right? You've gone rather quiet," Brainstorm interrupted my stream of thought.
"No, I'm not bloody all right," I yelled back. "because a couple of bastard mad scientists filled my body with all sorts of weird tech stuff!"
"She's fine," Brainstorm, part two concluded. Which one was part one, and which was part two? Whoever spoke first. Whoever spoke second. Anything beyond that would get too confusing. If I ever got them out of the tank and found they were colored differently to each other, I'd worry about making greater distinctions then.
Now where was I again? That was right: firing magic from the gun. I selected the relevant snippets of code, and sequenced them together, creating new code as required to join the pieces. For a few missing gaps in my knowledge, I took my best guess. I ran the spell, aimed the gun, pulled the trigger...
KABOOM!!
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OH!
So, all the others have a horn inside them, like the replicator, but this one is that final prototype that used the user's own horn! Now I get it!
Doesn't that mean you can't do strafing runs with the weapon?
Well. Let's hope she just intended to make something explosive
4466171
It would indeed prevent that rather "unsafe" practice!
But then, this isn't a machine gun.
KA ME HA ME
4467633
Pssh. Yes it is. You said so yourself in the chapter: it can be anything she wants it to be.
(She needs to make it a grappling hook gun!)
4469964
Isn't. Didn't say "Can't be". It is fully variable. There is nothing to stop her reprogramming that safety feature out of it, should she think about it. But then, mowing down rows of ponies is the last thing she intends to do... well, the last thing she intends to do is die, and killing ponies comes after that!
4467993
EH?
4470244
Well, she just has to feed it some rubber, then, if she ever needs it for crowd control purposes. Y'know, like, getting swarmed by an army of agents from Central
4470469
Rubber... or soap or carrot.
4470245
It's the super turtle attack or something. Signature attack from DBZ. General term for giant plot beam.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cu1i5dWiNKs
4470469
It would not take much to strafe actually. She just mentally needs to target "Everything" or everything that she would desire to hit. Target crowd. Fire.
She must have increased in weight and size somewhere.
Yeeesssssssss
Hmmmm, no blind firing.
6374013
Weight and density, if not size.
7662254 As far as I know, she's made it to chapter 57 without becoming one. Strength is relative.
I like how those two think.
7667129
That isn't ominous at all.
An enemy stand?!?
Oh. Well that's significantly more mundane