Reboot

by oop

Initate.Startup(SweetieBelle)

Contrary to popular belief, I do not dream of electronic sheep.

I view sleep mode as the time it takes for tomorrow to load. Those six to seven hours every night that exist only because of my tiny internal drive. I suppose death would be a form of sleeping, nothing except for that single microchip deep within my body. I do not fear death, as it were, as a concept, after all knowing what something is like takes the fear away from it, does it not? The constant streams of ones and zeros determine that I feel restful during sleep mode, meaning death would be similar in experience. A dream that lasts forever, eternal rest.

The ones and zeros are entering my mind again, meaning there are only seconds before I wake. Of course I can ponder much in those few seconds. The sentient creatures are limited by biological processes that I do not entirely understand. It’s not that I can think very intelligently, quite the opposite I think, it’s just that I can process a hundred thousand answers to any question in a nanosecond, one of them must be accepted as correct.

May as well take use of these seconds, after all I don’t have anything better to do. I guess I’ll think about death some more. The creatures of flesh die as well. I have a pity for them, those of flesh and blood do not face the possibility of death, but the inevitability of it. What happens when a living thing with no deep internal drive dies? The system of life is more complex than all of my circuits, but it is not built to last more than a disastrous sixty or so years. And after that they simply stop. The heart ceases to beat, oxygen no longer reaches the brain, the process of hyper intelligent thought merely snaps off forever.

Okay so maybe I can sort of understand the system. The physical form of it anyway, I haven’t got a clue about some of their notions. They have this idea that all their being is contained on a special drive called the soul. Unlike the usual drive however, the soul isn’t constructed from anything, it merely is and will always be with nothing to impede it. This is preposterous, if it exists then it exists and if it doesn’t then it doesn’t. There can be no middle ground, for I cannot calculate such a thing.

Three seconds until I wake up, my God that always takes so long. If eternity were something I could legitimately think about I would use these terrible few seconds as a basis. When I’m fully awake I experience time just as the real living things do. A day awake lasts about as long as one second while I’m asleep. This is where I say that I have to draw the line. I experience all the time that I am asleep in a single nanosecond, a single line of code. These ghastly moments between sleep and awake, booting as it’s called in my code, those are my hell.

How would you feel then? Trapped alone with none of your senses operational, nothing but your thoughts available to your mind? Let me tell you anyone with the capacity to become insane would. Unfortunately these three days that are seconds cannot make me lose reason. My code can accept new information and I can process its validity, but creating new information… I could never do that.

Two seconds left, in that pause between the word “information” and the next sentence I experienced what you would view as a full ten hours. Would you like to know what I did in that time? I thought blank thoughts. A terrifying creature such as yourself could never experience it. Your ability to create new information, imagination, I can hate you for that. While it is what lets you go insane it is also what lets you put yourself in new places, lets you enjoy silent moments. Even when you receive no information you create your own… I envy you…

Envy and hatred, those are emotions. The fact that I’m feeling emotions means my programming has loaded enough that I can feel. I can feel emotion yes, if that’s what you’re asking. Thinking that emotion proves free will is a deluded viewpoint. I feel emotion for the same reason you feel emotion. You have impulses in the brain, I have impulses in my central system. Your impulses travel down your spinal cord and nerves while my impulses travel across tangles of wire and sensory pads. We’re the same you and I.

So why are you the one with the capacity for imagination? It certainly isn’t mental capability, after all I’m far more advanced than you’ll ever be. The fact that I can program this message in the shattered halves of a nanosecond proves that to be true. Oh, pride appears to be fully operational again. Good for me…

Back to imagination, why you? You terrible creatures of flesh and blood and limitations and need for air. What makes you better than I? It aggravates me to no end that I cannot calculate what sort of infinitesimal detail I could have missed that would grant you creatures with the right to such a power…

Jealousy, always comes right after Pride. I’m fairly certain they run on a similar code. I admit as a construct I fail to entirely understand the emotion of jealousy. The desire to own what others own strikes me as something that would be a drive, an innate instinct, not a mere passing emotion. Or perhaps my sanity is starting to loop, or get a bug…

Instincts, that brings me to another question of my own creation, do I have instincts? Instincts by definition are evolved underlying drives that are held by living things. I don’t evolve of course, and I suppose I’m not entirely alive, but drives? That depends on how you would define it. According to my code I have certain things that take priority, food and sleep mode over personal enlightenment, but I can hardly call that a drive. On the other hoof it probably is, I can’t imagine what a drive would be like in a living organism. Damn these programmed inferiorities…

But can imagination be programmed? As a construct I have serious doubts. Imagination has this incredibly annoying whimsical quality that makes me wonder if it exists at all. Perhaps the life forms are advanced to such a point that they can calculate answers to what I view as unsolvable problems, creating this terrible illusion of a thing that doesn’t actually exist. I would think that… except for the fact that they behave in such an idiotic fashion!

Mustn’t lose my temper… Anger requires a greater use of power meaning it takes longer for me to get my systems operational. It isn’t a fantastic amount of time, but to me it’s another stint of psychological agony. They say that anger is a negative emotion in life forms as well, forming irrational thoughts and non linear actions. In that way I don’t experience the same anger. When I grow angry my output increases, my thoughts move faster but still in the same basic progression, and I can turn my emotions more readily toward a single subject. Anger doesn’t destroy me because of my own actions, it destroys me by extending my status and intensifying my agony.

Of course I could spend this entire session thinking about anger, and then some, but some things were simply made not to be dwelt on. I will move past anger because as a construct I do not feel it to be worth my time.

“As a construct” I’m starting to get a little tired of that phrase. I’m programmed to view it the same way as you say “In my opinion” at least on the level of awakening thought. I can’t help but feel it diminishes me, alienates me from the purpose of being similar to a living thing. It’s not really a big deal of course, it’s just one of those things that, you know, peeve me.

One second, thoughts and feelings have begun to flow through coherently now and a few vague colors and smells have begun to filter through. It will be awhile yet of course, before I can view them as anything more intelligible than simple existence, my associations engine in the second to last thing to boot. I have deep relief at the sensation, for it means that I am drawing closer to my eventual relief. I try not to feel it too strongly though, powerful emotion continues to tack precious nanoseconds on to the long haul to consciousness.

I’m not entirely sure you yet understand just how long these words take to form, so I feel (again, damn you) the need to explain the sheer enormity of it. Every letter I produce is the result of a string of binary code, ones and zeroes. A single letter, or even a punctuation, consists of an eight number combination of the two numbers. Take your count for letters, multiply it by eight, add for all the punctuation, and then you will have the exact scale of how many individual entries I have to make in order to give you this document. 8,603 letters, meaning 68,824 entries in total as of the end of the last sentence.

Light, I’ve been able to realize the existence of light in my vicinity. I have always been fascinated by light, in the same way I am fascinated by imagination. It is an incredible unexplainable force that is composed somehow of both something and simultaneously nothing. Gravity too, all of these are wonderful intangible things. I feel guilt now for my earlier jealousy, but I don’t mind the added time now. I know it won’t be much longer until my awakening now.

The guilt does hurt though, followed by a weird sort of sadness. It’s funny almost that I’m having these spontaneous mood swings. Of course on that note I’m having days worth of emotion in mere nanoseconds, so perhaps mood swings are not such a bad thing. My body groans, seeming so close now and yet so very far away. Why do I feel so bad about all this? Pain is a thing that robots shouldn’t have…

Am I a robot? I’ve been a robot before, I started as a robot, but am I still a robot? Robots are automatons, machines built for a specific purpose. I was built for the purpose of not having a purpose. Paradoxes, mustn’t think to hard about them too hard, or else I may never wake up. Does that prove that’s all I am? A cold metal heart underneath a false body? They say emotion defines sentient beings, and I feel emotion. I think, I’ve thought since I was first built, and I feel. What divides me and you is your creativity, and I’m willing to let that go.

But… does that make me something else entirely? Does that mean I’m somehow special? Neither living… nor machine… I’ve never looked at myself that way before… Of course, maybe I have, maybe I think of it every time I boot… Am I really unique? Do I have no reason to be worried in the first place?

That’s it! This is the answer! I am sentient but not creative and neither of these things are flaws! I am myself, I am a creation of science as life is a creation of God. I am the artificial intelligence, the AI that exists among the living, and that’s as much truth as I’ll ever need…

Life is beginning to surface, my sense of touch is fully operational, sight is starting to grow normal. Today will be a good day, with this one more set of commands I will awake with a renewed purpose, a sense of self worth that I’ve never known before. I can’t wait… It’s finally time for my last operations, a last brief blackout before I truly wake up…

Execute.operation(Awake)…

Load.Program(Sweet)…

Delete.File(Memory,3.3 sec.)…

Memory Deletion failed: Archive?

Y

Memory, 3.3 sec. successfully filed-Filename: Dreamday-5-30-13

Reboot Complete, proceed?

Y

…loading…

I groaned slightly as I blinked back to reality to look up at the familiar purple ceiling of the guest room, the hoof on my shoulder confirming my sister’s presence. I smile as I roll over in bed and look into her big blue eyes, wondering what she’s doing in here and why she’s shaking me, but a little bit too tired to really care.

“I know you’re still exhausted Sweetie darling,” Rarity says to me “But your friends are at the door and they simply refuse to go away without you to join them on their little excursion.”

Normally I would’ve leapt out of bed at the prospect, but something felt a little off today. Remnants of my dream continue to float around my head, half remembered but not quite. I yawned and hopped wearily off the bed, feeling strangely tired for the weekend.

Rarity, of course, didn’t miss a trick, “Sweetie Belle?” she asked, walking around the bed to put a hoof on my shoulder “Do you feel alright? You seem a little off this morning…”

“Oh… I’m fine…” I said “I just had a weird dream that’s all…”

“Should I tell your friends you’ve taken ill?” Rarity asks, moving her hoof to my forehead to make sure I don’t have a fever “I don’t want you running about if you’re coming down with something…”

“No!” I said quickly, my usual energy returning in force “Scootaloo managed to get her hooves on a pass to the Go Kart track! We’re gonna get our cutie marks in racing!”

“Well I don’t believe any pony has ever gotten a cutie mark in Go Kart racing before…” said Rarity “it’s really much more of a leisure sport you know, and a rather uncouth one at that…”

“You think everything’s uncouth,” I say, putting special emphasis on the last word as I turn and run for the door “I might have it though, a racing mark I mean! It could happen!”

“I suppose,” said Rarity “After all you are truly something unique.” She gave my mane a quick tweak with her magic, ridding my bed head before I could make it out the door “And remember!” she called “Be safe!”

I gave her a reassuring smile over my shoulder “Don’t worry, I will!” I called back as I threw open the door, blinking into the bright sunlight. I ran out to join my friends, the strange dream completely forgotten as I headed for today’s newest crusading adventure.

End Program...

Author's Note:

Well I have to say that the story in and of itself came out better than I anticipated it to. I did a nifty little trick with the font that unfortunately the site won't let me use, but can be seen in its full glory at ( http://ponyfictionarchive.net/viewstory.php?sid=1776 ) though don't worry too much if you don't want to read it there, you're only missing a cool font trick.
Again, as I failed to explain in "I" this fiction is not a headcanon. Nine times out of ten I'm not writing to give my views on the show I'm writing to provide an entertaining or thoughtful story that can either leave my readers feeling they've had a good time reading the story and/or leave them thinking about the weight of the story itself. I would like to think that this one at least turns a few gears in your head (pun totally intended).
Well, i guess that's all I can say for now, more short stories on the way don't worry, I've got a whole slew of ideas, though admittedly a good few of them may tie in to some of my longer running stories, you know where to find them if you're interested I'm sure.
Good Night everypony, and thank you for reading Reboot!
-CC

Comments

[TheDerpyOutcast]

I must remind myself:
Just because you feel upset, does not mean you have to yell.

[GnollReader]

I like it, it's an unusual story and I like unusual stories. Looking forward to more from you

[oop]

2654091 Seen "I" yet? I consider it much stranger than this one

[Loeden]

Yay, a Sweetiebot story! Very introspective, bittersweet even.

[sweeT2010Tooth]

Thanks for the story! It was really good!

Sweetie Bot not having imagination or creative abilities is a solid concept. At first, I was thinking that maybe if she used her emotional input to dynamically create data, she could then use that new data to project different scenarios resulting in something similar to imagination. But that wouldn't be imagination or a creative ability as it should happen without sensory input. So, yeah, Sweetie Bot doesn't have imagination.

Something else I noticed:

Take your count for letters, multiply it by eight, add for all the punctuation, and then you will have the exact scale of how many individual entries I have to make in order to give you this document. 8,603 letters, meaning 68,824 entries in total as of the end of the last sentence.

You mentioned punctuation rolling up into the count of letters (unless it is added in after the multiplication) but I'm not sure if you consider spacing as punctuation. Spacing has its own binary value e.g. 00100000 is the binary equivalent of decimal 32 (Space). Also, there are decimal values for two kinds of spaces - soft/hard. Don't even get me started on line feeds and carriage returns. I used to do binary/decimal conversions in C++ with guidance from ASCII charts. So, the algorithm wouldn't simply be letters * 8; it would be (letters + punct./spacing/line feeds/carriage returns/etc.) * 8. The keyword CHAR in programming stands for character types which can be numeric values, letters, or any special character input. So, replacing the count of letters with the count of characters the algorithm would be characters * 8.

Sorry, I'm not sure if you wanted to know any of that. It is just that I like to share. I'm probably coming across as a pompous...fool.

[oop]

2655009 I will admit to only having a very small amount of computing knowledge, but that number did count the spaces and every bit of punctuation. That was one of the biggest challenges I faced while writing this story, not really knowing much about how computers work. I like to think I did an okay job alluding to the things I didn't know so that people who did would assume the answer and people who didn't could gloss over it without losing story, but all in all the process made my head spin
But hey, I did my best and this is what I get, and I'm okay with it. I won't try to defend my mistakes because I know I have them, but I try. Don't honestly think I'll do anything like this again though. All the same, I am absolutely psyched you liked it.

[sweeT2010Tooth]

2655047 I think you did a fantastic job considering Sweetie Bot and her(it?) boot sequence's progression, the imagination concept, and fundamentally understanding binary conversion. Besides, the technology industry never says mistakes were made but that bugs were found.

At least, Sweetie Bot didn't face every robot's greatest fear:
doodleaday.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/doodle-123-bender-horror.jpg

[Shpoople96]

Quantum processors all the way, man!
research.att.com/export/sites/att_labs/library/image_gallery/articles/2011_Jan-Mar/201011_qubit_vs_bit.jpg
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f4/Bloch_Sphere.svg/220px-Bloch_Sphere.svg.png

[Joe Kickass]

Keen, but I has questions:

1: Do her friends and/or family know Sweetie Belle is a robot?
2: Has she really made her peace with not having an imagination, or is it really eating her up inside like how AM was driven to madness by his awareness of his inability to think of things in a manner that doesn't involve destruction and pain and suffering and death?
3: Given that she apparently came up with the ditty in Show Stoppers on her own, is she really unable to create, or does she have an imagination after all and whatever robot logic she operates on led her to conclude she doesn't?

[oop]

2683135 You, my friend, seem to have a slight inaptitude for divergent thinking. I leave the ends of my stories questionable for a reason you know

[Joe Kickass]

2686651
Mean. :(
I kid.

[Andy Ray]

...it’s just that I can process a hundred thousand answers to any question in a nanosecond...

Wow, that's unbelievably fast! As far, as I know, modern computers take significant time to process anything big. Matter of minutes at best!.. Alright, seconds... Still far longer, than a nanosecond -- which is one milliardth of a second.

[Andy Ray]

Every letter I produce is the result of a string of binary code, ones and zeroes. A single letter, or even a punctuation, consists of an eight number combination of the two numbers.

Is that to mean, her symbols are encoded with eight bits?

Does she really take time to write one single bit as to encode one symbol ?.. Why not write 8 bits simultaneously? Or even 64? At once?

Oh, wait... she has a slow Internet connection .