Existence was painful. It was, of course, supposed to be. The pain itself was strange, though, and different than anything Epicenter had experienced before. There was no sharp mental sensation of trying to recoil or escape, or of avoiding the stimulus that was causing discomfort. Put simply, she did not care that she was in pain, because she could not truly feel it. It was a strange paradox that she found endlessly amusing.

Not that there was much else to do beside think as she walked across the land toward the location where the other was waiting, and where the others would soon join her. Most of what came to her when she tried to think were memories. Strangely, though, they always seemed to come from two distinct sources: hazy, vague memories of war and crystal and machines that made her happy, and excruciatingly clear but emotionally distant ones of being a pony.

The dichotomy was unusual. The memories of her life as a defective organism were so clear, but at the same time, they were not truly hers, and felt as though they had been something she had seen in a film. She recalled her parents, and the time they had spent together. Her house, her room, her family holidays, even her hopes and dreams. She knew that they were dead- -the other one of her kind had killed them- -and knew that it was necessary to attract “rescuers” to carry Epicenter to a more suitable area that would be more difficult to quarantine. She knew that those had been good memories, but she could not remember why. She could not even recall what being a pony truly felt like, but imagined that it must have been agonizing to not know the truth about the universe, and to exist forever without the love of a cold metal shell.

Having been both types of organism, however, Epicenter was in a unique position- -she understood what it meant to be both. The primary conclusion she gained from reflecting on the two forms of existence was that they were polar opposites: ponies were all different, and yet they were the same; whatever unnamed creature she had become were all identical, but inherently different.

Ponies, like the one she had once been, were all unique in their own way. They had hopes, dreams, goals, likes and dislikes, and destinies. Each one had different opinions and different minds. It went deeper than that, though, down to a purely biological level: ponies were genetically different, giving them separate colors, races, types, and breeds. Despite this, they were somehow all the same. In general, most ponies treated each other as the same type of being. Even considering some racist tendencies, by their nature, they loved and cared for each other, ignoring differences in color, shape, and thought.

After her correction, though, such falsities had been removed from Epicenter. She, like all of her kind, was built to a default archetype. The vector that allowed for her species’ reproduction created beings that all had the same genetics, the same race, and the same ideas. They all worked toward the same goal, and all knew the same truths. Aside from differences in their armor, they all looked the same because they all were the same- -except that unlike ponies, they did not see themselves this way. The others were separate, and therefore different; because they were different, they were outside the group and therefore inherently inferior. The group itself, of course, always resolved into one: the individual. Anyone who was not the individual was defective, and worthy only of hatred and disgust. Although they were all identical, the race of the “other” was considered abhorrent, simply because they were the “other”.

The irony, of course, was that while ponies defaulted to love and caring, they were consumed with competition and war, while Epicenter and her kind, though consumed by hatred and unending thoughts of violence, were only capable of working together toward a single goal.

She ruminated on this as several ponies approached her. Her magic immediately extended, examining them. Their armor and weapons indicated that they were soldiers, guarding a city beyond them. Epicenter could not see the city- -she was blind- -but she knew what it looked like: a glass-like dome, built like an arena over a contained city within. She could feel the pulse of every pony within, and could sense every one of them moving, going about their daily lives. There were roughly six million of them in there.

“Excuse me,” said one of the ponies, approaching nervously. “We’re a patrol from Agrosynth dome-city twelve. We- -um- -don’t know what you are, but are you in need of any assistance?”

Epicenter stopped, and looked down at the tiny four-legged creature before her. Even though she was a monster, they had asked if she needed help. They had showed her kindness despite her appearance.

They reminded her of when she had been a pony, when others had cared for her instead of hating her. For just a moment, she thought she remembered the emotions of the time before the other one of her kind had helped her see the truth.

She therefore performed the only logical course of action. She summoned a surge of magic from within herself, the corona of which was so powerful that it instantly incinerated the guards surrounding her. She watched them screaming and flailing as their bodies burned. It felt so good to see them in pain.

Epicenter then turned her attention toward the city. She raised her hand, and summoned the full strength of her spell. The city seemed to vibrate, and then began to shatter. Within seconds it had pulled itself apart into individual components.

Within seconds, it was gone, reduced to a smoking concrete foundation. The resources that it contained had been acquired. Some had been added to Epicenter’s armor, improving it greatly, but most had been stored for future use. In the distance, she had heard the screams of each and every one of the ponies within- -and had made sure to leave no survivors.

The city had been in her way, and now, with it gone, she walked over the wreckage where the empty shells of their bodies now lay charred in the street, their life taken by the radiation surge of the spell.

She could easily have teleported to her destination, but chose to walk instead. The reason was for things such as this. As she walked over their bodies, she laughed- -walking was so much more fun.