//------------------------------//
// One Rotten Apple 
// Story: Lifesparks 
// by Sythax 
//------------------------------//

Sweetie Bot stood atop the sweeping hills, peering down at the bustling city in the distance. It was early morning, the sun just peeking over the horizon. However, despite the ungodly hour, the streets below were still bustling with commuters. Business ponies scuttled around like ants while newsponies stood on street corners, shouting the headlines in the hopes that somepony would buy their paper.
Dismissing the atmospheric report her spectroscope had relayed to her HUD, she turned away from the city towards the craft behind her. Flim and Flam lay upon the deck, each exhausted by the night's events and the nonstop driving they had been doing. The two of them had been into the town already to gather supplies and get Flim's leg fixed up. He now supported thick bandages around his leg and he walked with a slight limp.
They had also been kind enough to acquire Sweetie Bot a new cloak, this one a dark grey. It fit much more snugly than her last-minute attempt back at the boutique. While she didn't need food, Bolts would when she found him. Her saddle bags also contained bottled water and bandages, should the worst come about.
Bolts. Just thinking his name sent a stab of guilt through her. This was her fault— no one to blame but herself. She couldn't protect him; no matter how hard she had tried, he had still been taken. She was a machine, armed to the teeth, yet she still couldn't do her job properly.
She gritted her teeth in fierce determination. If they wanted her, they could have her. She didn't care anymore. As long as Bolts was safe, that was all that mattered. With a body as dangerous as hers, maybe she would be better off dead.
She shook away her thoughts, almost grinning at her display as it showed the actual though processes being thrown aside. She approached the craft, the two brothers raising their heads as she got nearer.
"I'm going to head off now. The longer I wait, the longer he's in danger," she said
"Why don't you report this to the authorities?" asked Flim.
"Surely they could sort this all out," said Flam.
Sweetie Bot shook her head sadly. "I wish it were that simple. They would ask too many questions. No, this is something I have to do myself— something I'm going to finish," she said with a stomp of her hoof, the metal appendage cracking the road beneath her.
She breathed out, regaining her temper. With a sigh, she looked back at the brothers.
"Where will you go?" she asked.
Flim and Flam looked at each other, pondering the question silently. It was Flim that spoke up first, his voice raspy and weak.
"I think what we need," he started.
"Is a holiday," finished Flam.
"I hear the Gallopagos are nice this time of year," said Flim with a smile.
Sweetie nodded and turned away, beginning the trek into the city. However, Flam's voice called out to her. She looked back, waiting for him to speak.
"We don't know who those pegasi worked for," he said.
"Nor what sort of trouble your walking into," continued Flim.
"But we just wanted to say, thank you."
"And good luck."
Sweetie smiled, glad for the encouragement as she turned back towards the city. By the looks of things, she was going to need it.





Ponies pushed and shoved as they scrambled along the busy sidewalks, all forms of manners and courtesy forgotten in the rush of the morning. Unfortunately for Sweetie Bot, all these ponies were adults, putting her well below their line of sight and directly in front of their hooves, causing them to pull some interesting manoeuvres to avoid the filly that came from nowhere.
At several times, she considered sticking herself to the wall in an attempt to avoid the crowds. However, many parts of her system, both strategic and not, obscured her visions with warnings every time she dare think it. It was if they were trying to make her life more difficult.
They did come in useful, however, in predicting the movements of the ponies around her and plotting the most efficient path between the sea of legs to her goal, marked with a large red dot on her HUD's map: the Manehatten Institute of Engineering.
Her plan was simple, if not particularly well-thought-out. The Institute was sure to have fairly recent records of Professor Ruttlebridge's address. She'd find where he lived and ask him about anypony who might want to steal her designs. Then she could find them and save Bolts!
Or they could find her. Either worked for her at this point. Bolts was her only goal, all thoughts of existential crisis banished from her mind.
Manehatten was a literal maze. Roads spanned in all directions, criss-crossing like the web of a giant spider, a web she was dangerously close to getting stuck in. It didn't take her logic processor to tell her that whoever took Bolts was expecting her, that his entire foalnapping was to lure her into their trap. Her system was doing constant scans of her surroundings, flashing warnings if anyone was paying her too much attention.
The Institute lay at the head of a large green, somewhere to the west of the city centre. As she wound her way through the crowds, she kept a close eye on her HUD map. Her current displacement was about 783 metres, though the distance she had to traverse was closer to 1468 metres. Getting lost was almost an impossibility, as her systems were constantly tracking her position.
With nothing to do but continue walking, her mind shifted once again to Bolts. Her tear tanks almost opened up as she thought about how scared he must be. Trapped, afraid, did he even think she was coming? Had he already given up on rescue? Or was he staring expectantly at the door of some cell, waiting for her to come in and save the day?
The thoughts chilled her frame. She wouldn't let him down. She would make it to that Institute. She would make sure that he had the chance to show his wonderful, wacky inventions, even if it killed her. Better the living pony survive than the one who had never lived at all, right? She owned him that much. His predicament was her fault, after all, the blame resting solely on her metal shoulders.
Her resolve hardened, she picked up the pace to almost a gallop, straight to the centre of the spider's web.





To say that the Institute was an impressive sight did not do the building justice. Even surrounded by skyscrapers, it more than made up for its lack of height with towering pillars, gleaming marble and intricate carvings. It was more than a match for its neighbours. The front of the building was a massive arch, held aloft by pillars almost three ponies in width. It was flanked by two grand wings, rows upon rows of glass windows staring down on passersby.
The building was a masterpiece of modern architecture, and as such, carried a hefty price tag to boot. However, Manehatten's booming economy, as well as a large portion of its exports, originated within the halls of this building and others like it. As a result, such places received funding from corporations far in excess of what the crown could provide.
It had been easy to imagine that getting the Professor's address would be a cakewalk, that they would hand it over on a silver platter. Now, looking up at the imposing building, she was beginning to have doubts on the integrity of her plan.
'Well, you don't know 'til you try,' she thought to herself as her leg servos whirled into motion, carrying her into the shadow of the Institute. A strange thought then occurred to her.
"I was born here," she muttered, using 'born' in the loosest sense of the term. "This is where the Professor gave me to Mum and Dad."
Here she had been given the sparks of life. Brought into a world not ready for her to replace a filly who wasn't ready for death. Wouldn't it be ironic is this was also where those sparks faded?
The large doors of the building came into view, knocking the morbid thoughts from her mind. They were elegantly carved from the finest mahogany, intricate brass metalwork lining the frame and hinges. The doors emitted a sense of grandeur, of purpose. Behind these doors, the future was made.
She placed a hoof on the solid wood, pushing open a door that normal fillies her size would have never been able to open. They opened up onto a humongous room. The floor was polished marble, the walls made of thick brown stone. The ceiling towered above her at roughly 38 metres.
'Kind of takes away from the wonder when you do that,' she thought, not expecting her environmental scanner to respond.
The hall's walls were dotted with more doors, each leading to hallways and other rooms. Ahead sat a large reception desk and behind it, a large set of stairs, leading to the upper levels.
Still looking around in awe, she trotted over to the desk. The mare behind it was a tan unicorn, her red mane tied up in a bun and a pair of spectacles on her muzzle. Sweetie coughed politely when she failed to notice her guest, causing her to look around before spotting the filly before her.
"How can I help you, Miss?" she said, a tone of annoyance sneaking into her voice as she spoke.
"I... uh... needed to get the address of someone who used to work here," she said lamely.
The mare raised a brow. "And who would that be?"
"Uh... Professor Ruttlebridge..."
The mare's brow rose further. "And why, may I ask, do need to see him?"
Sweetie froze. She hadn't thought of a back story,a reason to be seeking the Professor. Thinking on her feet, she came up with a plausible lie.
"I... um... uh... Needed to ask him some questions!" she replied. "I want to speak to him about his work."
The unicorn looked at the young, cutie-markless filly who apparently wanted to speak with a world renowned professor. The story just wasn't going to cut it.
"I'm sorry, but I can't just give away that personal information to anypony," she scowled, "not even to curious fillies."
Sweetie's heart sank. "Please! It's really important I speak with him!"
"I'm sure it is," said the mare as she pressed the button under her desk. Within seconds, two burly guard stallions had appeared.
"Please escort this young lady off the premises," she told them, before turning back to her work.
Sweetie struggled as she was herded back toward the door. "No!" she pleaded. "I really need to see him!"
Alas, her shouts fell on deaf ears as she once again found herself outside the Institute. Her legs bucked beneath her as she began to weep. She had failed, stopped at the first obstacle to come her way. How could she have failed so easily? How hard was it to get hold of one file?
A file.
Sweetie's eyes opened wide. Surely such an advanced place would have more than physical documents? Delving into her memory banks, she scanned the interaction with the secretary. And sure enough, on the mare's desk, was a computer terminal. And said terminal was more than likely linked up to a maneframe.
Getting to her hooves, her face set into a determined scowl, she began to walk away from the building, but not in defeat. No, she may have failed this time, but next time, she would succeed, even if through... less conventional means.