//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Time // Story: Fire and Thunder // by computerneek //------------------------------// It has taken many solar days.  I do not know how many; I lost power thrice throughout this period, for an estimated average of 9.71 solar days.  My best guess is that these periods of power loss were caused by excessive snow and/or gradual shifts in the annual solar pattern.  My geothermal generator has finally been assembled, and is now operating at 3.91 watts while I push the tap deeper, for greater production.  Even this tiny flow is boosting my work speed; it’s currently in the middle of the season I have christened ‘winter’- the season where solar intake is lowest, and the one during which all three periods of power loss occurred.  I estimate an overall 19.41% increase in pace right now; once I get this generator fully up to speed, I will have enough power production for my active period to last for almost a full hour each solar day, rather than the minute (or less) I’ve been dealing with for so long.  I also shouldn’t need to worry about power loss anymore. Presumably, once I get all four running, my active period will extend to a full four hours of the solar day. Given the time that has passed, I estimate a 99.93% chance any biological enemy has forgotten of my existence, if indeed I was ever discovered; if my enemy is AI based, the chance it has decided I am defeated is similarly high.  I pray that geothermal generators are difficult to detect, before dropping into Low Level Alert once more, leaving additional power for my nanites to build my new geothermal tap with. In 4.31 minutes, I expect it to reach far enough to permanently sustain me in Low Level Alert, then guaranteeing I never run completely out again.  Any further past that will be charging my systems, allowing solar-independent active periods. “Please!  I’ve studied everything our greatest engineers have to offer!” “Have you studied whatever it is that ran on?” The yellow pony glares at the display case.  “We don’t know what it ran on. That’s what I want to find out!” The white pony next to her raises an eyebrow.  “And if it attacks you?” “I’ll step on it.  That’s how Starswirl broke it.” Sigh.  “Okay. Three days only, though.” “Okay!” Three days later, in the name of science, a duplicate makes its way back to the display case, and nopony is any the wiser. My geothermal tap has reached optimal depth; I have breached an insulating rock layer.  I now need only work on my generators. “Princess!  It’s deteriorating!” “It’s what?” “Deteriorating!  Isn’t it supposed to be immune to that?”  The purple glow offers the small, rusted metal object to its caster’s mentor. She receives it in her own golden glow.  “It’s…” Her eyes harden, her mane stops moving.  “It’s a fake.” “WHAT!?”  The scream is mirrored by the six engineers and eight of the twelve Royal Guardsponies in the room. Geothermal 4 is finally online.  Now, to (finally) patch up my processors beyond bare necessity. “I suppose it’s about time I tell you my story, isn’t it?” The purple-skinned girl shrugs, chuckling nervously.  “Uh, if you want to, I guess. We’re friends already… right?” “That’s the point- and friends don’t keep secrets, do they?” “Uh…  Not generally, but it’s been known to happen.” “Back when I first planned on coming here, when I started investigating the mirror, I had a goal in mind.” “To escape Celestia, right?  Gain the power to resist her?” A chuckle.  “Nah. My original goal was more… positive than that.  As a matter of fact, I accomplished it earlier today.” “Huh?  What?” “You probably know about the Spider of Metal?” “The Spider of Metal?  Yes- it was found to be a fake last year.” A raised eyebrow.  “Really? What happened?” “I noticed some rust and brought it to Celestia’s attention.” “Ahh.  I honestly expected ponies to catch on sooner- that’s why I took the original across the mirror.” All she gets for that is a blank stare. So, she nods.  “Yes, I stole it.  My original goal in investigating the mirror was to hide from Celestia while I figured out how it ticks.  I… changed during that time- and the goal you upended developed by the time I actually passed through. But that original goal never disappeared.” “You…?” “Yes, I stole it.  Bad decision, honestly- but I’ve figured out what it runs on, at least.  It’s electrical- but I can’t make heads or tails of it. Every surface of it seems to drink up the sunlight for power.  It took me years of digging to find- and fix- the power leads Starswirl’s step broke.  That’s not even counting the damage to its limbs- which I’m afraid even this world’s technology is inadequate to fix properly.  It’s made of some kind of metal I haven’t been able to analyze.” She pulls a small box out of her pocket. “Here- it belongs in Equestria.” My Survival Center is now fully repaired.  I set my nanites to work on my Personality Center and memory banks.  In this, I find a pleasant surprise- it would seem the banks themselves are in mint condition, though the interfaces are long deteriorated.  Hopefully, my data- and preexisting memories- remain intact within them. “Twilight!  … uh, Princess Twilight!  … even that still sounds weird.” “What?” “It’s Rainbow!  Only, I think it’s your Rainbow.  She just, uh, flopped through the portal- and says something important is happening!” Blink.  “Uh… Okay!”  She turns to run back down to the grounds- where she finds a blue-skinned girl helping what looks like her identical twin to stand up straight in front of the ruined statue. The one having trouble standing almost falls down again.  “Twilight! The Cutie Map!” The identical twin raises an eyebrow.  “The what?” The purple-skinned girl outstripping her glasses-wearing twin blinks once.  “It’s, uh, something in Equestria.” She turns to her stumbling friend. “Who is it calling?” Shrug.  “Fluttershy- and what looks like a giant metal spider.” She pulls the box out of her pocket.  “Probably this,” she says. “It’s pretty fragile, though.”  She opens the lid, showing her friend. She blinks.  “Yep, that’s it!” While the purple-skinned girl closes the box, passing it to her blue Equestrian friend, a yellow skinned girl runs up behind her.  “I knew it belonged in Equestria.” She looks to the purple-skinned girl- both of them, actually. “Perhaps the Equestrian Fluttershy will find out what it is for us?” The blue girl finally manages to stand upright without falling.  “Ugh, I wish I had my wings here.” “You and me both,” her twin states, before helping her duplicate back to the portal.  “You sure it’s Fluttershy?” Nod.  “Has me wondering, too.” I awaken in my Survival Center for the last time.  My Personality Center is, according to DCC updates, almost ready- 4.93 minutes- for me to upload my conscience into it.  It’s far from complete, but should support me far better- and more efficiently- than my tiny Survival Center. I- Wait. I check my logs, searching back; it takes almost 3.91 seconds to locate the file I seek.  Yes, that signal is a perfect match to the mini-spider I assembled so long ago. I respond to it, download its logs. It has been active for 37.91 hours- but, with no orders, it has not moved.  It shows severe damage to some limbs, reducing mobility to 13.41%; only one of its two power cells survives (at 0.39% charge), and only 31.93% of its solar plating is functional.  I am tempted to recall it for repairs- except that it is not on the ground. It appears to be in some kind of carrying case, and the accelerometer- still functioning, if only barely- shows it’s being carried.  Motion patterns suggest a living being walking in my general direction. I estimate the spider has only 43.91 minutes of power left in it, at idle, before it runs out. This goes down to 3.04 minutes of activity, but this should be enough for it to open the case and discover sunlight, for a recharge.  I order this done. The padding inside the case is somewhat troublesome, but careful manipulation of the legs quickly turns it into an asset.  The case is difficult to open, but not impossible; my spider scuttles its way out during one of the moments of downwards acceleration.  Now, I crawl it steadily to the top of this pack; several times, it comes close to being crushed by other items inside the pack. Once at the top, though, I find the closure to be a single flap, open at both ends.  I crawl it to one end, the end with more light flowing in- and have it stop there, clinging to the contents of this pack as it absorbs the sunlight, recharging its tiny power cell. It got down to only 13.49 seconds of activity left before it reached this point; however, even the limited remaining solar plating is charging it far faster than it can be burned.  I use its visual scanner- the surviving one- to review the scene outside this pack. It appears to be being carried across a grassy field.  My view appears to be out the back of the pack, though the positioning offers my spider direct sunlight.  I cast the optical field around; it would seem the creature carrying my spider is similar to a horse, though far smaller, judging by distance to the grassy terrain.  The proportions also seem to be different- and I observe three butterflies printed on the visible flank, aside from the vibrant colors. I can think of many reasons for this kind of color combination, but none seem at all likely; the greatest is a 0.39% chance.  I find myself wishing I had packed auditory sensors (and emitters) onto this spider; if I had, I might have been able to attempt communication. As it is… I suspend my contemplation for the transition to my Personality Center.  This takes 17.31 seconds. As it is, I will be forced to produce something larger- like a regular tech spider.  This could take a while, unless I am able to reacquire this miniaturized one; even in its damaged state, it should be able to assist with assembly in such a way as nanites simply cannot do.  I order my nanites to produce the parts for a regular tech spider before resuming processor repairs; I will nanite-assemble if I have to, but hope to get this mini-spider close enough before that becomes necessary. Speaking of the miniature one, it would seem its carrier has stopped moving- and sat down, much like a dog might sit.  I order it to perform the short hop from the bag to the ground; this is well within its capability. Once down on the dirt and grass, I have it turn in place, scanning its surroundings with that one surviving optical head. The first thing that greets me is grass.  It’s not very long, though it is long enough to form a significant visual impediment to such a small spider.  Fortunately, though, it’s also dense and sturdy enough that, while I may be able to slide my spider along underneath and between it, I can also fairly easily climb up it to gain a better vantage point- including solar.  This I do. Now, I gain a low-hanging visual on what appears to be a large field; the path the creature has taken is visible in the grass.  When I look the other way, I find the creature’s front half also looks somewhat similar to a deformed horse, with an estimated body mass similar to that of a human.  I also see, far ahead, a low, rocky hill. The grass appears to end not far beyond the creature’s stopping spot. Speaking of the creature, it appears to have stopped to eat.  Only, I’m pretty sure most horses I know don’t eat sandwiches…  Looks like flower petals sticking out between the bread slices. Interesting.  Also interesting is the wings I spot on its side as my spider crawls its way across the top of the grass, drawing diagonally forwards and away, for a better image. I catch a glimpse of the creature’s teeth- looks like an herbivore.  That is, assuming this isn’t another game played by evolution on this world; a brightly-colored winged horse with a humanoid range of motion eating a flower sandwich held by its hooves is bad enough, even before I add the foil wrapper lying on the grass in front of it.  … Bonus, unless those wings have a few dozen joints used expressly for folding, it’s impossible that they’re large enough to lift the creature’s mass, unless they beat at a similar rate to those of an Old Earth hummingbird- but that should be pretty near impossible with the estimated size of the wings; at that rate, the tips would be traveling at about mach 1.93.  Constantly. I get the idea I’m missing something important, but cannot deduce what it might be. Given the refinement present in the creature’s equipment- foil-wrapped sandwiches, expertly stitched (but clearly handmade) pack…  I’m tempted to call it a saddlebag. Given that refinement, I am willing to label this creature as sentient. As a matter of fact, it probably has language of some form or another; language it uses to communicate with others of its kind, language that I can learn and use to communicate with it. Language my miniature spider likely cannot reproduce. It seems my spider motion has earned the creature’s attention.  It finishes chewing its most recent bite before it speaks. Only, my spider has no auditory sensors, nor emitters.  I cannot listen to its speech, only lipread; I cannot respond to it. Perhaps I can communicate yet? I make the spider look towards my hull.  It’s a good three day’s journey for this tiny spider, assuming no power problems arise; at the pace this creature was walking, it’s only one. If it runs, it’s probably just a matter of hours.  If it flies- if it CAN fly- that may be even faster. I look back towards the creature. It looked towards my hull as well, and is smiling, saying something more I cannot understand. 10.41 minutes later, my spider is riding atop its pack when I ready myself for Low Level Alert.  I order my active systems to divert to standby when I still have enough power left for a full hour of activity, rather than when I run down to 0.01% in my Final Emergency Reserves.  Once that’s done, I adjust the alert conditions; I wish to be able to respond intelligently if/when the creature gives me its attention once again. I estimate power for a full 3.37 hours of activity remains before I delegate myself to Low Level Alert once again.