• Published 6th Sep 2013
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Thunder Struck - MerlosTheMad



Stephanie's greatest home invention is named Sweetie Belle. It's a very advanced piece of machinery, as well as adorable. And it thinks it's alive!?

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Chapter 8 : The Cat Did It

Stephanie gazed down flatly at Sweetie Belle for a good few minutes, disbelief winning over the better half of her mind. I still just can't bring myself to accept what I'm seeing, she thought plainly. And what I'm seeing is an active, home-built robot that shouldn't have any power whatsoever.

Stephanie frowned and shifted her stare to the porch where a couple of cats were laying in the sun, watching what all the fuss was over.

Sweetie Belle, her own prized creation, was currently defying logic for the second consecutive day. She, or it, rather, was right there at the foot of the house's stairs, looking up, shuffling its hooves, and was apparently online.

Slowly, Stephanie's hand came up and pressed against the side of her head, eyes scrunching shut. Maybe I hadn't de-stressed as much as I thought I did... Briefly, the idea to simply leave arose again, but her animals were going to need her attention eventually so that didn't seem like a great idea.

"Stephanie," Sweetie's charming voice called out questioningly.

Stephanie's eyes shot open again, while the rest of her took an instinctive step backward.

"Are you malfunctioning, Stephanie?" Sweetie Belle politely asked; her expression, if one could call her simple robot features capable of one, made a good show of appearing concerned. "I believe I am also having difficulties internally. Could you perhaps help me and I could help you? Also, I have questions. Inquiries." While speaking, the robot gestured to and fro with one front hoof. "What is baked beans? Also, what does it mean to 'Harlem Shake'? Also, also, why is it that my body is the way it is? Also, also, also, the cat is mean, please make it behave not mean. I would be very grateful of that last one..."

The presence of various animals surrounding the house filled the awkward silence; the goat munched on feed, while two dogs barked incessantly at one another nearby, amongst other sounds.

Stephanie, meanwhile, gaped openly. "I... I..." she muttered, breathless and shaken. How is she even on? Did someone reactivate her? The thought responded to the growing list of the 'unexplainable' with Sweetie Belle. Someone else couldn't be responsible for turning her back on, unless perhaps they had a way around Glados, which didn't seem likely.

The possibilities Stephanie busily considered threatened to drive her mad, make her doubt herself. Did someone add wireless and remote controls to Sweetie without my knowing? Aliens? The government? The entire drive home had been spent resolving to attempt to puzzle her situation out calmly and rationally. But, even after telling herself she would investigate the circumstances with an open mind, she was having difficulty accepting or even grasping her own machine's current state.

Sweetie Belle had tilted its head slightly while Stephanie fought to speak; the movement tossed the remaining tuft of mane it bore from one side of its head to the other. "Stephanie..." it began to say again, still using its cutesy young voice.

Stephanie nearly took another step back; her robot's tone held a very odd quality, one that rivaled the concerned tone it had already used: sadness.

"Pl-pl-ease respond, Stephanie," Sweetie Belle begged, then stood up and moved forwards, gears whirring softly. "I have tried to ask questions of everyone and thing in the house, but they won't talk coherently to-to-to me and I need you to help." Its mouth moved up and down, roughly in time with her speaking, though it wasn't perfect. "I am very... confused." Sweetie Belle came to a full stop at Stephanie's feet, then held up a foreleg and placed it on her knee. "Please?"

Stephanie stared a moment longer, but rather than stand still forever, she managed to lean towards Sweetie. The machine looked the same as always, minus the damage it had suffered just the day before, though technically the storm had been early that morning. Her head swiveled around quickly, looking for the camera crew she knew must be out there somewhere; other than her animals, though, there was no one else in the general vicinity.

Stephanie looked back at Sweetie Belle, then answered, "Baked beans are disgusting, the Harlem Shake is something you never mention in polite company, your body is like that because I'm cheap, and cats..." She had started speaking before she knew it, and wiped a hand down the front of her face in exasperation. "Cats are just animals, they don't know any better," she sighed out, then lowered her hand.

Sweetie Belle stared up at her still, then blinked and spoke again. "Oooh. Okay," she said, smiled, and added, "Why?" Her voice was sweet, innocent, and very curious sounding.

Stephanie blinked for a moment.

She ran a hand over Sweetie Belle's mane, smiling, then jumped up. "Alright!? Where the hell are you creeps? Huh? Come out of the bushes now so I can sue you already for messing with my property!" She glared all around herself, and almost missed the surprised sound Sweetie Belle made upon being tipped over, which was followed by a dull clang.

"Oof— Steeeph, why did you do that? I could have been hurt, I think..." Sweetie Belle had fallen on her side, and was looking up with a mildly indignant look. "You didn't answer my question. I have more, too, numbering one thousand, one hundred and twel— thirteen. Fourteen."

Stephanie looked back at Sweetie Belle, face working to find the right expression. She gave her yard another glance, then knelt down and picked up Sweetie. "Fourteen?" she asked in a desperate tone; it was odd, but talking back to Sweetie actually felt a little normal, and easier than facing her thoughts or logic. At least, so long as she tried not to think of it as her machine that had previously had a very limited vocabulary.

Sweetie shuffled its legs about her slightly after being righted, then looked at Stephanie. "Thank you," it exclaimed, then sat again. "Which fourteen? Did you wish to know question fourteen, or question one thousand, one hundred and fourteen, Stephanie? They are different questions, so I think you may have been confused. I was just referring to question one thou—"

Stephanie interrupted, talking over Sweetie Belle. "Thaat's, uhm, yes, quite alright, uhm, Sweetie... Okay, let's go inside, is that alright? I need to get back to work and... figure everything out and... well, I can't do that out here. Doesn't that sound great? No... no question answering just yet if that's fine."

Sweetie Belle leaned back some, its head bobbing quickly from one side to the other in a thoughtful fashion. "Inside?" it asked, then turned towards the house. "Inside is acceptable, considering the cat was rendered a non-threat. After excessive amounts of aggressive behavior were witnessed, unit de-designated... I was forced— was forced to... to..." Sweetie Belle paused, and shook her head, then continued. "I'm so sorry, Stephanie, focusing... focusing?" she repeated. "Focusing is so hard for me right now. Uhm, so, I put the cat in quarantine, and we can go inside and be safe now."

Stephanie had listened intently, been confused by the short speech impediment she witnessed, then widened her eyes to their fullest after what her robot had said dawned on her. "The cat?" she asked, then raised her voice. "You mentioned a cat before. What did you do to my cat!? Which cat?"

"Uuuuhm," Sweetie Belle, oddly enough, backed up quickly as if worried, though really everything it did now was odd. "Well, the cat was attacking me and being really mean and... I put her in the closet? It was attacking me and... and... He was the one with the black spots and white tummy? Belly? Stomach? Chest che— chest... Chess is a game," Sweetie Belle finished, then smiled, but only just.

Stephanie exhaled slowly, not really sure how to feel about her robot telling her that it had quarantined her cat. If that was the worst her randomly activated ghost machine had done, then that was fine. The idea that Sweetie could hurt any of the animals, even malfunctioning like she was, didn't seem likely. What bothered Stephanie more, surprisingly enough even to her, was the glitches Sweetie was now exhibiting.

"I see, uhm, you were mixing up your pronouns by the way, Sweetie..." Having pointed out a few, simple and understandable flaws, Stephanie had worked up to a more difficult issue. In this case, for her, the issue was actually addressing her machine. "Are you feeling alright, Sweetie? Besides acting... not yourself, you don't sound very good." After a brief pause, she quickly and hopefully added, "Status report...?" It was a brief glimmer of hope that the voice command prompt would work.

Sweetie Belle's metal eyelids opened up some in a very believable look of surprise. "Sound? I... Do I not sound right? I don't know how I should sound. Stephanie, how do I sound correctly? I have learned much of how to utilize words by listening to you, but I feel there are... gaps, still."

The hope Stephanie had that Sweetie would answer normally had been soundly dashed. So, she wrinkled her face up in thought, charging ahead. "N-No, Sweetie, that's not what I meant..." She thought on her machine's words for a moment, noticing something. "Sound also isn't used like that. You meant to say 'how do I speak correctly'. I think, anyway..."

Sweetie Belle stared a moment, then made an understanding tone. "Oooh, I g-g-g-get it now."

Stephanie waited, and waited, then finally said, "Well, why was your voice glitching then? Is it the same reason that you're acting differently?" I can't believe you're actually talking to it, her thoughts piped in. Quiet, brain. I'm trying to figure this out and you're not helping. Get back to work. Her thoughts did a terrible job of helping to cope, even less so as events progressed further.

Sweetie Belle blinked, then extended a hoof up in the air, rotating it around in a wide, circular arc. "Oh! You mean the scr-scr-scrambles. Eggs."

Stephanie furrowed her brow again, resisting the urge to either face-palm or walk away right there. "Uhm, yes... the 'scrambles'. What's causing those? Are they why you've been acting... strange?" She swallowed and waited for a response, which came quicker than she had expected one to.

Sweetie Belle began shaking her head back and forth vigorously. "I'm not acting strange. I'm not acting, I am serious! Everyone in the house is strange. They're so... rude, yes, they're rude. I tried being friendly, but it didn't help! TV didn't talk to me, Glados wouldn't talk to me, and the animals just avoided me. Except for cat, cat was mean... Broken little-TV was nice, I guess, but she just played mu-mu-music." Sweetie finished, then sat down again, looking around every few seconds before focusing back on Stephanie and continuing. "I'm just confused, nothing makes sense. There's so much, so much I think, that makes no sense. Words... feelings... thoughts, and—"

Stephanie stopped Sweetie Belle before she could say more, because she was getting ahead of things quickly. "Wait, wait okay, way too much too fast.

Sweetie through up a hoof. "I know! That's what I thought, too!"

Steph shook her head. "No, I— First of all though, you can't feel things, Sweetie—"

"Yes I can," Sweetie interjected, looking up flatly. "What I can feel is feelings. The definitions ma-match-tch! Unless I am wrong... Am I wrong, Stephanie? I will believe you and change what my dictionary head is telling me." In a bizarre fashion, Sweetie leaned forward and began whispering, rather than talking at a normal volume. "I don't think she, it, he? Knows what they think they're talking about... but I can't be sure."

Stephanie flexed her hands in pure, unbridled stress. "Your pronouns, Sweetie, and— Arg!" She thumped a hand against her forehead, suddenly reliving the madness that had filled her entire life since the thunderstorm had set Sweetie on fire.

"Okay," Stephanie started again, more slowly this time. "Let's say for now you do have feelings, because you have... well, an opinion, we'll call it, I guess." Whatever the reason for that we'll ignore for now.

"Yay!" Sweetie Belle said, but remained seated, waiting.

Stephanie quietly resolved to remember every little detail of how things moved along. If there was someone behind the scene pulling strings, she wanted to be sure to know everything. "Second, you can't just mix and match pronouns, they're based on gender in English. For example, I would be a 'she' and you would be an 'it'."

Sweetie Belle tilted its head. "Why?" she asked. "I thought I would be a she. Not sure why, but 'she' just feels more familiar. I think I can remember you saying that to me. And other... people? People that look kind of like you."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. Well aren't you just an adorable little pile of confusing. "Because reasons, that's why," she replied, not wanting to explain the finer details of determining gender to her robot.

Familiar... Steph repeated the word in her head, then shook it. "Anyway, what's making you glitch? You said there was something that caused that." Her hope was that maybe the right questions would get her real answers.

Sweetie Belle stayed quiet for a moment, looked down, then looked back up in a flash. "Oh, I woke up... Hal. He had tried to hurt me the first time I met him. Hurt me bad, I didn't like it. It was approximately twelve hours and—" She stopped and shook slightly, tossing her mane back and forth. "Sorry," she apologized, looking back up. "I keep thinking about the time. Time flies, or so the TV said."

Sweetie Belle stopped to actually genuinely laugh a little bit—at least, it sounded genuine. "Sorry, I'm confused. I woke up Hal again, or is it reactivated? Both definitions match, but I don't know what to use... So I somethinged Hal again and t-t-tried to talk to him. I tried to ask him q-questions. I have a lot of those, Stephanie. Sorry for repeating m-myself. He... It? Is Hal an 'it', Stephanie?"

Stephanie stared at Sweetie Belle, mouth hung agape. After a tense moment of silence, she nodded dumbly.

"Oh," Sweetie said plainly. "I was certain it was a he, not a she, certainly, but maybe a he. Oh w-w-well, so, it confused me. Hal, I mean. Yes, confused me more which didn't help. I felt... things, when talking into him with the da-da-data cord. I did it just like you did earlier. But, this time it felt like getting lost it ffffelt like. I almost didn't find myself again, I think. Yes, getting back was definitely difficult. It did not transpire as it did the first time I bridged w-w-with Hal, at all."

Sweetie Belle sat quietly for a moment, apparently finished with speaking, then looked towards the house. "Did you still want to go inside? It is not that cold out, but the weather forecast said it might rain. I don't know why that matters, but it seems like being out-out-ou- side for rain is bad. I found a faucet earlier and decided I don't like the water, especially the cold water. Sky-water seems like it would be catastrophically bad."

Stephanie just replied to her machine quietly and quickly before it could continue. "Sky-water. Sure. Yeah, okay. Let's go inside and I'll—"

Stephanie stared into space a moment, shifting through the madness she had half listened to in her slight delirium; one part of what she'd heard stood out. "Wait, you fixed Hal?" In a flash she knelt down again, then picked up Sweetie. So much had happened and been said, Stephanie didn't quite feel as though it had all... 'clicked', exactly. Hearing that Hal was okay, though, brought her back somewhat. Her list of things that were just 'wrong' was a mile long, but she still tried to remember everything in vivid detail.

Sweetie Belle gasped once she was raised in the air. "I'm flying!" she remarked immediately. "Wheee— Wait, no, flying has odd— an odd definition... I am being carried." She let out a depressed sounding tone, then. "Disappointing..."

Stephanie groaned, and clenched her eyes shut as she traversed the porch. "Please stay focused, Sweetie... I— Oh, never mind." I'll just go check on Hal real quick, then come back upstairs and deal with Sweetie, somehow. I have got to ask it about every, crazy little nonsense thing it's said. I mean, I know I considered it, but I won't believe that it is actually in control of itse—

Stephanie's thoughts froze solid the moment she opened her front door, revealing the inside of her kitchen. "What the hell happened to my house!?" she cried out.

Something wiggled in Stephanie's arms, but she barely noticed the slight disturbance.

Inside, nearly everything, large or small had been tipped over, and owning a house full of animals meant that happened a lot. However, this was far worse than anytime she may have forgotten to put away the raccoon.

No, her house was in absolute shambles, from bottom to top. Chairs were toppled, drawers were opened everywhere, a lamp was shattered by the couch, and those were just the first things she noticed. For instance, the toaster was inexplicably laying on the floor along with what must be half the books in the house.

Sweetie Belle spoke up all of a sudden. "Stephanie, how do you reformat the house? She suffered catastrophic malfunction earlier this afternoon..."

The room was quiet a moment while Stephanie merely continued to evaluate the full extent of the destruction in her home. Absently, she wondered just how far it ran. The broken little TV, her thoughts repeated, recalling the hints that Sweetie had left her during its confusing speech. Those hints, she realized, had actually been a prophecy that had foretold of the doom and destruction she was destined to find strewn throughout her home.

Through aghast stare, Stephanie whispered, "How did this happen?"

After an unsure pause, Sweetie answered her. "The cat did it."

Stephanie opened the closet door, only for Mr. Whiskers to come flying out, letting out a single yowl of protest as he raced between her legs and off down the hallway. "Aw, you poor little guy," she said sadly, watching him flee.

Sweetie Belle hissed at the sinister cat as he ran past, which almost made Stephanie jump. Fortunately, Sweetie considered, the cat did not stop to pay her any mind. He she it has evacuated the premises. Hurray! I wonder if the cat was a he, she or it? The question was an interesting thought, just as many others were...

Absently, Sweetie then reevaluated how she used the word she, to label herself. It is strange, but despite what Stephanie has told me about being an 'it', that just doesn't feel right, for some reason... So, she decided she was a she; the word it just sounded incorrect. At the very least, she concluded she didn't like 'it' as much.

"Sweetie, stop that. He's just a cat after all." Stephanie watched Sweetie turn back around slowly, obviously satisfied that the cat really was gone. It was a small wonder Mr. Whiskers in particular had always held such contempt for her machines, but other than laser pointers, a bigger distraction, there was little she had been able to do about it. Finding a home for certain pets was difficult, after all. Fitting in was never easy, sometimes even under the best circumstances.

Sweetie Belle replied to Stephanie. "He? Acknowledged! Yes, he is a cat, but he is anything but just! I remember him always attacking me, almost as far back as I can! And I... I would do something to make him stop?" Her words turned into a slightly wondering, thoughtful question by the end.

Stephanie slowly closed the closet door to her left while keeping her eyes glued to Sweetie, who had paused to look at the floor and hold a hoof up to her metal chin. The sight was nothing short of confusing, surreal, and breath taking. The worst part was she still didn't know what to do about it. I could spend a lifetime programming and perfecting behavior, but I would never be able to make something behave like this, she marveled. Whoever did it is a genius. She still fought to believe Sweetie's behavior was program related somehow, though, that didn't explain how she reactivated while disconnected from her own batteries.

Suddenly, Sweetie's eye laser activated, washing green light over the carpeted section of hallway floor. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "How interesting. This is the cat-discombobulater. The cat-combobulater? That one sounds better..." Absently, she began sweeping the bright streams of light she seemed to possess around the room.

"Heh," Stephanie guffawed nervously, a slightly manic reaction to match how she felt. "You're behaving like... If this is a prank, please stop. This is going too far..." Her hands reached up and raked through her long hair. "You're remote controlled, right?" she asked desperately.

Sweetie Belle looked up, her eyes still alight. "Prank? Remote... control? Those words are... Oh, wait, that's what the TV had. It made the TV talk, though he—"

"It," Stephanie corrected immediately, standing perfectly still. "The TV is an it."

"Oh... I understand," Sweetie said simply, then went on. "It wasn't very responsive, but I t-told you that already. Is your memory alright, Stephanie?" Quietly, she padded her way over towards Stephanie across the carpet floor separating them.

Look who's talking, Stephanie thought to herself, frowning. "Yeah, my memory's fine, thanks for asking." She then winced and closed her eyes slowly. I just thanked the machine as if it weren't programmed to just respond no matter what.

"You're welcome! I'm glad to hear you are functioning right." Sweetie replied, then after a brief pause continued. "Oh! Stephanie, Stephanie! I just realized, I feel joy when being polite to you. Can you help me feel more new fe-fe-feels? I like experiencing them."

Stephanie opened one eye and peered at Sweetie again; she was looking back up at her with an excited expression.

Nope, I'm not going to encourage it, Stephanie thought quickly, then began walking away. Alright, what's next? Hal, of course... Or do I even want to bother? I bet he's screwed up to hell and back. Likely as not, one more nail in my sanity's coffin is just going to send me over the deep end... and then who will take care of my animals?... Not Alice, that's for sure. Another response from Sweetie caught her off guard, as most of them had.

"Ste-Ste-Stephanie, where are-re-re you going?" Sweetie Belle asked from down the hallway, sadness tinting her voice.

Stephanie stopped and turned around. And those glitches. It said Hal caused them? Rather than think of what could possibly have happened, because nothing made sense anyway, she surprised herself by thinking of whether Sweetie was actually an... it. Or rather, she considered what it would be like if it really did become a she.

What if, she thought, her machine had somehow become intelligent, rather than the far more likely scenario that she was being remote controlled, which itself was literally impossible after having confirmed that no such devices or changes had been found or added to Sweetie the night prior. What if, Sweetie wasn't actually now the host of some horrible virus or reprogramming, one which somehow made her behave in such a way as to imitate behavior.

"Stephanie?" a voice from nearby addressed.

"What is it, Sweetie?" Stephanie replied in a dour tone, still staring off into space and thinking hard.

The flat, questioning quality of the robotic voice shifted itself and became rather disapproving. "Sweetie?" it asked with a hint of contempt. "As much as I like you, or don't like you as is the case, I wouldn't go so far as to think of myself as your 'sweetie'."

Stephanie shook herself and turned to find Glados hanging before her from the ceiling.

"Anyway," Glados continued. "I was just wanting to inform you that something, likely one of your pests, has done a remarkable job of destroying your entire house. It's impressive that it accomplished such a feat, but there it is, still. So, I was just checking that this was not some sad attempt at remodeling, which wouldn't surprise me... In any case, I suggest you let me tidy this place up for you."

"Yeah, go for it," Stephanie sighed in response, then turned around to find Sweetie looking up at Glados with a mildly contemptuous look of her own. Weird, she thought, studying the filly-bot with interest. Or is it fascinating? She frowned, then headed for the basement; she patted Glados' side as she left. "I have no idea what I'm going to do..." she quietly remarked to herself.

"What else is new?" Glados then wheeled off to attend its duties.

Stephanie continued on, ignoring the biting retort. "Well, I should get everything figured out, fixed, and have nothing to worry about as far as Hal and the house... but what should I do with Sweetie? I can't turn her off. Do I let her power run out? Try another system restore? Lock her up?" Or... do I just talk to her and wait?

Stephanie flicked on the light to the basement, while behind her came the soft clip clop of Sweetie's metal pony hooves, and a whining call that went, "Stephanie! Where did you go? Wait for me!"

Stephanie shambled down the stairs quickly, ignoring her pleading, bewitched machine. She had been about to call out for Hal, then remembered what had happened the last time Sweetie had encountered stairs. "Wait, Sweetie—" It was too late, by the time she had turned, her sudden, worst fear had already begun.

Sweetie Belle's expression shifted three times in the moment it took her to take a couple shaky, robotic steps down the stairs. She looked unhappy, still asking for Stephanie to wait, then was smiling the second she locked eyes with her, and then, surprised, now falling forward down the stairs.

Stephanie lunged instinctively, an arm reaching out and another supporting herself. At the last second, she had time to consider how bad of an idea the maneuver was, remembering Sweetie Belle's weight.

A mix of gears churning and metal thumping rang out, then quieted after an instant.

Stephanie was bruised slightly, but both her and Sweetie—who had managed to stop her fall without help—were alright.

"What was that? Huh? Why didn't you fall?" Stephanie panted, then winced. "Ow, ribs..."

Sweetie Belle studied Stephanie back and slowly stood up off the stairs. "Stephanie, are you hurt?" she said worriedly, rather than answer the question.

"I'm fine." Stephanie got up quickly, brushing herself off, then gestured a hand back into the hallway. "So why didn't you fall? Whoever reprogrammed you must have thought repeating that stupid stairs joke would be really funny." She glared, her fists planted on her hips out of anger. "Why stop? Because I was in the way?"

Sweetie Belle cringed back some, almost hiding her eyes beneath the remnants of her mane. "I... I don't... the way you're looking at me is... scary, Stephanie," was what she muttered.

Stephanie blinked, confusion and shock playing across expression in an instant.

Sweetie Belle looked up at the change, then smiled. "Yay, that's better. You make that face a lot, and I don't understand it yet, but it's still better than that last one."

Stephanie grabbed a hold of the railing beside her, worried that at any moment she would tumble down the stairs after losing consciousness from sheer stress.

Sweetie continued, still standing at the top of the stairs. "Anyway-way-way, Stephanie, since talking to Hal, walking has been har-hard-harder. He didn't really help me much like I wanted him to, either... But I should have known better than to... trust him after our first encounter. Oh, sorry, I said him, I meant to say 'it'." Then, she giggled and sheepishly tilted her head. Some of the cuteness of it was lost from her charred state, but only some. "I'm sorry if you hurt yourself. I started to lose balance and decided it would be better to lay down rather than fall all the way after you."

Stephanie stared a moment longer, then slowly said, "Oh, well okay then." She took a few steps away and descended into the basement. "Uuuh, yeah! Just, uh, just wait here, I'll be right back up. I... I promise." She whirled around and thumped down the remaining stairs away from her all too real and genuine seaming robot. It's okay Stephanie, you're not going crazy. You're not. You're fine, everything will be fine, nothing's wrong...

"Okay!" Sweetie cried after her. "I'll wait here! Please do not injure yourself more, Stephanie! I like you!"

Stephanie shuddered. It has to be a prank. It has to be. But who? Why? How? What if it isn't!? How do I find out if it isn't!? "Augh!" She had to actively resist thumping her head against the concrete blocks that made up the south wall of her basement lab.

"Hal!?" Stephanie cried out, marching towards the computers. "Oh, wait, never mind." The lights and machines throughout the entirety of her lab were actually on, as if they had been in use. She looked around herself at the wanton destruction, taking stock of what her own filly-bot had apparently wrought.

Surprising Stephanie a bit, mostly because Sweetie had been telling the truth, were the red orbs along each wall, lighting up in unison after a moment. She jolted to a halt and blinked. "Oh, you're on again after all, like Sweetie said."

The red orbs, shining brightly throughout the room, continued to remain on as they were, and no response from them came at all.

Stephanie frowned, then stepped closer to the camera nearest her. "Hal? Are you in there? How bad are things?" There was no answer. "Come on, status report, please," she begged, almost at the point of getting on hands and knees if it would help.

There was a brief pause that stretched... and then Hal's voice came, giving Stephanie immediate, blessed relief.

Hal spoke, but oddly, in a high pitched tone that sounded as if he were far away, or at the other end of a hallway. "The narwhal bacons at midnight. The Snozzberries taste like snozzberries. Klaatu, berada, nikto! The meaning of life is—"

Stephanie only had to listen for a few seconds to her once prized creation after it began rambling to have her short, wonderful moment of relief dashed completely. "Hal? Oh no." She ran over to her monitors, hoping desperately she could make things right, only to find each and every screen was bright blue with error messages. "Why me!?" She sat into her computer chair, wishing for a helpful voice with an answer or explanation that actually made sense.

As it was, though, the only voice Stephanie had was Hal, provocatively telling her that red was definitely her color.

The upstairs living room was dim for the most part, with the few house-safe animals Stephanie owned mostly asleep or curled around one another throughout the building like the little angels they were. All of them were resting peacefully; all of them except, however, for their one robotic pony-shaped counterpart.

For the time being, Stephanie merely talked to Sweetie Belle, having the little machine retell its story of the day it had spent wreaking havoc.

Sweetie Belle was seated in a chair beside Stephanie, who for her part, was exhausted now that she was finished with stressing over... pretty much everything. The day had been especially long after spending so much time on her day off simply cleaning, but she was almost ready to end it, if not quite yet. At present her creation was still doing its best to keep confusing her.

While talking, Sweetie Belle stared intently at the dancing firelight in the stone containment structure at one end of the room. The rapid motions of the heat had an indiscernible pattern, despite her best efforts to figure it out.

"Alright, well, prove it then, play something," Stephanie remarked back to the last thing Sweetie had claimed. Trying her best to talk with Sweetie Belle as though she weren't just a string of prerecorded or algorithm generated responses had her deeply invested.

Sweetie Belle smiled and looked over, then replied, "Okay! I would like to do that."

Stephanie waited patiently, smirking. She genuinely talks and acts like... someone who was just familiarizing themselves with things from scratch. Sweetie Belle would repeatedly confess the things that she liked or disliked, on top of giving her opinions or surface thoughts. It had seemed too strange at first, but as far as Stephanie could tell, they seemed real enough. Sweetie seemed in some ways a robot, in some ways a clueless child, and in other ways quite profoundly aware and intelligent; even insightful.

Stephanie forced herself to put the oddities out of mind, focusing instead on her own little version of Pinocchio.

Sweetie Belle opened her mouth as requested, then after a split-second, music began pouring into the room.

"What is love! Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more."

Stephanie stared in amazement, then laughing, held up one hand while holding the other over her face. "Okay, stop, that's enough. I believe you now..."

The music cut off abruptly, and Sweetie smiled up at Stephanie proudly. "Told you," she remarked.

"Yeah yeah..." Stephanie had been listening about what Sweetie apparently 'learned' throughout the day. It seemed one of those things included an entire music library from one of her devices. She wasn't sure, but it seemed likely that Sweetie had used the 'broken little TV' which was in fact her lab's destroyed music player. The thing had been smashed on the floor beside her workstation, another casualty of Sweetie's apparent quest to have questions answered.

Steph had cleaned up that mess as best she could, all the while being followed around by her metal shadow. The cleaning process probably would have even been somewhat enjoyable thanks to Sweetie's cheerful behavior, were it not for how completely tired she felt afterward, and her futile attempts to repair Hal.

Hal worked once again, yes, but a shade of his former glory. Whatever Sweetie had done to him, had left his code and system a complete wreck. He could activate, deactivate, and speak a little, if anyone could call it speaking.

"Your turn," Steph intoned, leaning back and taking a sip from her mug.

Sweetie hummed, and tapped a hoof against her chin. Choosing a single question was difficult, especially since she'd nearly quintupled the number that she'd come up with since Steph got home.

"How about... oh, I know! If you constructed me, Stephanie, who constructed you? Who built you, Stephanie?" Sweetie beamed at her creator, Steph fascinated by the thought of someone else constructing her, and how great that someone must be.

Steph burst out a laugh the moment the question was asked, only to stop and stare wide-eyed at the floor for several seconds.

Sweetie raised an eyebrow, something else she'd picked up already from Steph. Now what's wrong? Was it a bad question?

"My parents, uh, created me, Sweetie. Although, people aren't constructed." Steph turned to look thoughtfully at Sweetie. "Maybe try to look up the definition for the word 'born' and that might explain some stuff. It might not be sufficient, but I'd have to explain... Well, never mind." Stephanie paused, and briefly wondered if she even should explain how people came to be. I mean, I don't fully think this is legit, but either someone's yanking my chain or she's way to young to know about... that.

"Hm..." Sweetie's eyes flickered rapidly as she looked up the word 'born'. The description wasn't very specific, merely stating at its most helpful that it was an adjective meaning: to be brought forth by birth. She briefly followed a chain of definitions from there on, but they and their concepts didn't make sense to her, either. "I don't understand completely, but I think I'll file this under; to be continued."

Steph smirked, nodding simply. There had been a lot notarized as such so far. "Good question though, Sweetie. Okay, my turn now..."

The room was quiet, and Stephanie was staring with a goofy smile at her machine.

At the moment, Sweetie and Stephanie had an agreement going, that one of them would be allowed to ask one question, which would be followed by a question from the other, and so on. The method had been Stephanie's idea, allegedly because she had kept leaping into things called 'tangents'. So, Sweetie waited happily for Stephanie to talk again, though she herself had many more questions. Oddly, Steph seemed to appreciate patience over... enthusiasm.

Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, kept smiling as big as she could while waiting, which often didn't feel big enough, and studied the taller being that went by so many names and titles.

After her second run in with Hal, it was even more confusing for Sweetie to have so many designations for one Stephanie; re-ordering them was a hassle. Still, she felt she was getting the hang of it; 'it' being her very own mind. While waiting, she absently organized away more of the things she had been having trouble understanding. Her head might be a mess, but it seemed that with some work she had managed to put things back in their rightful places. In fact, she thought she might be improving the organization.

Sweetie Belle, along with helpful advice from Stephanie, decided to never again try to use a thing called a 'cable' to talk with other 'machines'. It was her least favorite way of talking... She liked sounds much more than the numbers, especially music. She wondered yet again why Stephanie or the animals didn't communicate by singing. Singing and songs were rather even nicer, as she saw it.

"So," Stephanie began to ask, taking her turn at questions again. "You really have no idea why you're acting like this?"

Sweetie Belle switched her smile to a frown. "Stephanieee, you already asked that one," she chastised, eyelids drooping to indicate exasperation. She also decided to lower her head and shake it slowly. This was the fourth time Steph had wasted her question.

"Yeah, I know... and I also know that if you're a trick then you wouldn't tell me anyway..." Stephanie decided to stare into the firelight across from her, then, rather than meet Sweetie's ever present gaze.

Sweetie Belle sighed, despite obviously not needing to breath; she had begun doing it quite frequently after noticing how much Stephanie did it. "Well, to repeat what was said between us, 'No, I do not know, Stephanie. I remember many things though, even right up until I woke up feeling so great, and different!' Then you asked, 'what kinds of things?' Then I replied—"

Stephanie interrupted, waving a hand. "Yeah, yeah, then you replied 'I remember seeing you first, and I felt happy.' Okay, I remember..." She chewed on her lip briefly, remembering well that everything Sweetie had been able to tell her boiled down to very little. As best she could figure out, according to Sweetie anyway, her machine had woken up as it was after the insane storm from the night before.

Other than a few clues there was nothing, just the results, which were quite literally impossible, but there they were anyway, smiling and laughing with her.

Sweetie Belle waited a moment longer, trying to stay patient, then chirped up happily, excited to take her turn. "Okay, I have my next question!" She tilted her head, waiting, then noticed that Stephanie seemed to be doing the thing she did when being slightly unresponsive: staring blankly at a wall.

Luckily, Sweetie had also learned the trick for getting her friend's attention; it had worked with a one-hundred percent success rate.

Sweetie Belle turned her head, gears rotating her to face towards something randomly chosen out of the room. "OoOooh," she began to say, in mild, false fascination. "This thing looks reeeally interesting!"

Stephanie blinked and straightened up. "Sweetie, don't touch tha— Oh, sorry, I meant..." she trailed off, realizing she had been had by Sweetie's cleverness, which was something that simultaneously confused and amazed her. "Sorry about that, I was thinking."

Sweetie Belle smirked back at her, then added, "I like thinking, but talking is nicer."

Stephanie smiled some herself, and relaxed back against her chair. "Yeah, it is. You're certainly a reminder of just how much I like conversation."

Sweetie Belle's tail began to wag absently. "Really?" she asked happily.

Stephanie nodded. "Yes, I mean, I talk all day to my supervisors and fellow employees, but I should probably get out more with my friends."

Sweetie gasped. "Friends, amigos! Can I come? I would like more friends and—" She froze in her speech quickly and let out a sound of disappointment. "Oh no, I asked another question and it wasn't my turn again yet... I'm sorry." Wincing, she looked away and tried to hide, feeling shame again.

Lighthearted laughter made Sweetie Belle pick her head up again. She found Stephanie, leaning out over her knees with both hands clasped together.

"Well, you definitely act a lot cuter than before... And I thought I had made you incredibly adorable already, but now you're just a walking heart attack waiting to happen." Stephanie's voice was full of admiration again for her property; she reached out a hand and ruffled Sweetie's mane, who wore a surprised look.

"Is... Is that a good thing?" Sweetie Belle asked back. "Heart attack's definition is worrisome— Oh no! I asked another question..." Unable to bear her own foolishness any longer, she ducked low and brought her front hooves up over her eyes and head. Hiding, that's what she was doing, and it felt like the perfect answer to her problem. Oddly, however, more laughter in the air made her peak out again.

Stephanie was smiling still, and spoke once in view. "It's fine, really. Just don't get out of control with questions, Sweetie Belle, okay? Try to be reasonable and use moderation, but let's try just asking away again." After a moment, she asked, "Could I trust you to do that...?" It felt odd to ask her own machine an involved question, but she was getting over it, whatever the situation's full story was.

Sweetie Belle let out another tiny gasp. "Yes! I will try." She thought about the way Stephanie had begun treating her differently, which didn't take long. Many of the things stood out as strange for her, from the way Stephanie had addressed her earlier to the questions she had asked. Something had changed, though, over the course of the day.

"Good," Stephanie replied. "As for meeting my friends, you already have, a lot. Though it was before... recent events."

Sweetie Belle stared a moment, then tilted her head. "Have I? Oh, well maybe I could re-meet them. I think that I am different now, and I want to do things over! I want to do new things, too!"

Stephanie smiled wanly, thinking over the implications of a machine with its own mind. "That's a nice possibility," she replied quietly. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to do with her, she reminded herself. Is she really A.I.? Gosh, what do I do with a true A.I.? She had thought about attempting like so many others to make a true AI, once, but it was difficult to quantify what made life, life. Setting the simple programs of funny little responses apart from true, conscious thought was something that was hardly simple to even think about, and even more difficult to define properly.

Figures, Stephanie mused. I'm the one person on Earth not trying to make a machine with a mind of its own and I might have somehow ended up with one. She leaned back, enjoying the bit of quiet momentarily in the room, then surprised herself with a big yawn.

Sweetie Belle whirred, straightening up to sit taller. "Stephanie? Are you okay?" Her friend had made a strange sound, one that wasn't words and could possibly be indicative of several distressing things. "What was that?" she asked, just to be sure. Stephanie had proven to be a valuable source of information, and checking things with her was better than making assumptions.

Stephanie stood up, stretching. "Huh? Yeah, Sweetie, I'm fine. That was just a yawn. You do it when you're tired."

Sweetie Belle stared, eyes widening slightly. "Ohhh." She paused to think about what tired was, then frowned, and looked back up. "I don't... think I'm tired?" The definition confused her slightly. Tired: feeling the need to rest or sleep. Hm, nope, none of that.

Stephanie chuckled. "I doubt you would be... Well, I am, and it's late. We've been at it for hours. So, I'm going to bed, I think." She briefly looked over her machine, wondering just what exactly she could do with it now to keep it from getting into trouble. It certainly seemed that telling Sweetie Belle to go power down wasn't an option anymore, after all.

"'Bed'?" Sweetie Belle ask. "What is the reason for 'bed'? If I may ask..." Her eyes shifted around, as if unsure of asking the question to begin with.

Stephanie smirked in response. "Bed's where you go when it's time to sleep. I'm a person, like I explained to you, so I need to sleep."

"Oh. I remember!" Sweetie Belle exclaimed, remembering the way Stephanie had explained pronouns and what people were. It didn't entirely make sense, but people and animals needed rest in order to stay healthy. It was all very interesting.

Sweetie's ears whirred backwards, drooping in disappointment as the implications sleeps definition dawned on her. "You will be unresponsive for several hours, huh, Stephanie? But I wanted to talk more..." she lamented.

Stephanie frowned a little. "We will... but more importantly, can I trust you not to repeat what happened today in the house while I'm sleeping?" As she spoke, she stood up, leaving her chair and turned off the fireplace. From there, she made her way to her bedroom.

Sweetie Belle watched Stephanie go, then carefully looked over the edge of her own chair and hopped down, following. "I said I would not investigate things so intensely, didn't I?" Stephanie had a funny way of repeating things, Sweetie noted. "What can I do while you sleep?" The new question was very genuine, as she really had no idea. "I might get... bored! Yes, I might get bored." There was always exploring what lay beyond the house... which according to her memory was quite big and full of interesting stuff.

Stephanie hummed, brow furrowed in worry. "Well, I could put you in the basement with some music playing. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Sweetie Belle slowed for a moment, considering the proposition. "I don't know, Stephanie... Maybe?"

Stephanie stopped and opened the basement door. "Great! Oh, right, your legs and stuff are still acting up, aren't they? Let me help you down there."

Sweetie Belle made a noise of protest before responding. "No, it's alright. I think I fixed what Hal and I broke in me. It wasn't too hard... but... Stephanie, can I stay up here? With you?"

Stephanie frowned in the twilight of her hallway, considering an ultimatum. She didn't particularly relish the idea of a compromised pair of cameras staying in her bedroom. "Well, that's good to hear... But no, Sweetie, after today I would really prefer it if you stayed downstairs. If you're still malfunctioning, it's just safer, for both of us, I think."

Sweetie Belle looked down into the dark basement. "Safer?" she asked, a slight twist in the word. "Because I broke so many things and 'its'?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we'll go with that. Just... let me learn more about you and how you have changed, okay?" She leaned down and met Sweetie's eyes. "There's a lot I don't know, and so far you have been... well, accidentally been causing trouble, we'll say."

Sweetie stared up at Stephanie and idly wondered how long she would be able to watch her if she didn't give an answer.

Eventually, though, Stephanie asked, "Well? Is that alright?"

Sweetie frowned a little, then smiled and turned towards the door. "Oookay... I want double questions tomorrow, though."

Stephanie stared a moment, until Sweetie looked back up at her, then barked a laugh. She's already making deals and bargaining.

"Alright, deal."

The bedroom was quiet, calm, and completely undisturbed. There was a cat curled at the foot of Stephanie's bed, sound asleep, just as she was; until, that is, the sound of her door being pushed open woke her up. Accompanying the creak of the door was a soft, mechanical noise.

A moment later, and a hushed whisper woke Stephanie up entirely. "Stephanieeee, are you conscious? Or... awake?" the voice asked in a careful tone, then mumbled, "Is that the right word, or is it...?"

Stephanie leaned up when the whirring noise finally became its loudest and she could feel the end of the bed begin to dip slightly from a weight pressing down on the mattress.

Why am I not surprised? she asked herself tiredly.

"Sweetie Belle?" Steph sat up, examining the darkness and finding the outline of a little body approaching her.

Sweetie Belle was slowly making her way over the bed's covers, as if hesitant. "Stephanie..." she said imploringly.

"...What are you doing?" Stephanie questioned slowly, now fully awake.

Sweetie tilted her head, then looked around herself at the bed and room before facing Stephanie again. "I am sitting on this piece of furniture talking to you—"

"No, no, Sweetie." Stephanie sat up more and exhaled; the tired breath had built itself from successfully being asleep, to suddenly not being asleep. "I meant, why are you in my room? I'm trying to sleep. Didn't I tell you to stay in the lab? I mean... didn't we have a deal?"

Sweetie Belle looked away and shifted her front legs for a moment.

Stephanie waited, again struck by how odd and out of place those actions were when used by her machine. Stranger even than those, were the way her eyelids tilted, as though she were embarrassed or sad. That's going to take a lot of getting used to... she reflected. With no response coming from her robot other than movement, she tried prompting her to speak in the way you would with a person. "Sweetie, what's wrong? You look... uhm... worried?"

Sweetie Belle looked up, a little hesitant to be truthful about the way she felt. That alone confused her, like so many other things, but the feeling itself was unpleasant, too; unpleasantness wasn't a familiar concept to her, though neither were any others.

"I..." Sweetie began to hesitate already. After a tiny little smile from Stephanie, though, she continued. "I think I... was scared?" The word from earlier popped into her head. It sounded about right, so she went on. "It was dark in the basement, Stephanie, and Hal is asleep still and won't talk, but that doesn't seem like it would help the dark... I don't care about double questions, Stephanie! Please let me stay, I... would like to stay. I don't— I don't think I like it when it's dark..."

Stephanie stared openly at Sweetie, who returned her stricken gaze with a bright and hopeful one.

"So," Stephanie began. "You were afraid of the dark," she stated.

Sweetie blinked, then nodded three times quickly in succession. In her head, she ran over quickly just how scary being scared was; she definitely didn't enjoy it.

Stephanie, meanwhile, considered that being afraid of the dark was normal enough, certainly, but for humans, especially children, not machines. Then again, what was Sweetie Belle, she wondered. Another sigh escaped her, then she ran a hand over the little robot's ruined mane. "If I turn on the light in the basement will you stay put and let me get some sleep? It's been a long day... and I didn't sleep as much as I would have liked last night."

Sweetie Belle thought over what Stephanie said; it wasn't quite what she had hoped to hear. "I... was hoping, actually, that maybe I could stay here with you? May I?" Stephanie stayed quiet for a while, so Sweetie began moving her tail from side to side, something that she remembered seemed to help convince her of things.

Sure enough, she could see some of the telltale signs in Stephanie's features suggesting she was probably going to say: yes.

Author's Note:

More to come soon, everypony, rest assured of that. I have been busy trying to write a few one shots in addition to my normal fair. Bold and foolish of me I know, but I have some delightful ideas that I just can't resist putting into words. Positively tragic of me I know.

I have one such short story finished already, actually. This one is sort of for the new Season Four premier which is due soon, and I wanted to write something special for the occasion. So please, everypony, enjoy... The Mane Six Go To Brony-con