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// 404: ERROR NOT FOUND 
// Story: Glitched Stitches 
// by Quillamore 
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I will make things right again, whatever it takes.

Those words had been the only things keeping Coco together for the past few days, no matter how strong she pretended to be.  In reality, the decision to bring both her and Lightning back had splintered what little of a family they had, and Babs was just about the only pony she saw most days.  But, if what she was about to carry out really worked, she wouldn’t have to worry about that much longer.  She wouldn’t have to watch Lightning break herself over and over every night anymore.  

Simply bringing up the script was enough to spur her to that state, it seemed.  Coco had lost count of the amount of times she’d seen the pegasus holed up in her room, shuddering in a ball of fear as she considered what she’d have to do.  Granted, she had said she’d been created from Rainbow Dash’s S1 code, but Coco had never once expected to see that habit of hers on Lightning, the way Dash had been programmed to curl up just before performing the Sonic Rainboom.  It was a wonder Lightning didn’t grow a second glitch from the revelation, really.

And every time, every last time, she remembered what she’d have to put Scootaloo through in her upcoming episode, she just went back to that state.

Just when she stops hurting ponies, Coco thought, they’ve got to make her start again.  It’s like they designed this role to be her worst nightmare.

It was thoughts like those that brought her back to Lightning’s computer every day, reaching out for any clues she could get her hooves on.  It’d been a foolish impulse at first--after all, Coco knew better than anypony else that nopony knew how to use a computer--but she soon learned that “nopony” clearly meant “no Equestrian.”  To a Motherboard denizen, though, it was just another part of their code.  When Coco first logged on, she realized that there was almost nothing separating her from the machine--it was almost a fifth limb for her, even though it wasn’t her own.  Still, this sort of deep connection didn’t bring her any closer to the truth until one fateful day about a week or so after the scripts came out.  

That day brought two important differences.  One: Lightning Dust had cleaned herself up and left the room.  And two: when Coco logged onto the computer, a tiny white envelope appeared in the corner of the screen.

“Never seen that before,” Babs muttered as she hunched close to the screen like always.  “Think you should press it?”

“I’m one step ahead of you,” Coco replied, maneuvering her hoof towards the strange icon.  

Once she pressed it, a keyboard popped out from under the monitor, with keys perfectly fitted to her hooves.  At the same time, a blank white box filled the screen, prompting Coco to crowd it with words.  She’d never seen anything like this, hadn’t even known the keyboard existed, but still wrote everything out just the same.  Nothing on the screen indicated who the message would go to, but Coco figured it wouldn’t do any harm.  After all, secrets were meaningless and obsolete in the Motherboard.

After she clicked the final box, another message came to greet her, one that was practically incomprehensible to both ponies in the room.

Thank you for your interest in making the Motherboard a better place.  One of our Code Orange representatives will be by shortly to speak with you about any further questions you might have.  We would be pleased to meet you tomorrow morning at the center of your Manehattan quadrant.  Please continue to enjoy our services in the meantime.


--Creative Content Corporation, MLP Division


“Our services,” Coco whispered to herself.  “It can’t possibly be the creators--”

“It is,” Lightning said with a sigh.

Coco hadn’t even seen her come into the room, and the minute she did, she reached out to embrace the other mare.  Babs followed, even though Lightning did everything she could to push the two of them away.  For the slightest and most hopeful of moments, Coco just assumed Lightning was back to her usual self, the sort of pony who thought she was above hugs.  But the minute she looked into her golden eyes, she knew that dream would never come to pass.

Something had broken between the three of them, and just like any kind of glitch, nopony knew if it could ever be repaired.

“What did you do, Coco?” Lightning finally spoke.  

Her voice was nothing but serious, even as she struggled to shake Babs off her legs.

“Does it matter if it’s making things right?”

With a simple, solemn shake of her head, Lightning replied, “Yes, it does.  Because that’s the one thing you can never trust creators with.”


****


The details came to Coco later, much later.  In fact, until the meeting was scheduled to happen, she barely understood what she’d done.  About an hour before, just when she had finally gotten comfortable with the idea of talking to the creators--people who could wipe her out of existence with a single keystroke--Lightning dropped the bomb on her.  On the way to the meeting space, even.

“Those representatives they send,” she began, “they’re us.  They can’t walk in this world, so they take over somepony else’s mind to answer questions.  It’s sick enough to make nopony ever want to ask anything, and I just wish we didn’t have to mess with somepony’s head to get answers.”

“Then why haven’t I ever been forced into it?” Babs asked skeptically.

For once, Coco and Lightning’s eyes met at the exact same moment, almost as if they were both pondering the strangeness of this statement to themselves.

“I mean, they say workin’ from home’s pretty easy, but it’s not like you can do tech support from your capsule,” answered Lightning.  “And they only take over first-line ponies, anyway.  Trash they know they aren’t gonna use.”

Coco wasn’t even going to consider how twisted all this was.  As much as she knew she was only meant as a tool all along, as few pretenses as the creators put on...this was still incomprehensible.  Somehow, the threat they’d made on Lightning’s script during one of her catatonic nights, about how they had ways to force her into her role if she refused, didn’t seem like such an exaggeration anymore.

“So how do we know what body they’re going to be in, anyway?” Coco asked, forcing herself to make it sound like a normal question.

“For once, I’d say the creators made it pretty obvious.  They said ‘code orange’ in your message, and most of their reps don’t even have codes.  That just leaves us with one of two Oranges to choose from, and they’re both in the same mansion.  Hardly a challenge, if you ask me.”

Sure enough, the Orange mansion was just large enough to fill the entire quadrant center, and the door was very clearly unlocked.  Coco wasn’t sure if the creators had already taken over their brains or not, but she knew one thing for sure--their huge house definitely wasn’t any consolation for what the creators subjected them to.  In the Motherboard, first-line ponies were relative rarities, meaning that they were probably two of about seven ponies the creators could use.  Coco still wasn’t sure how often the creators got questions, but in all probability, both had probably been through this at least once before.

That was the one comforting thing about this whole messed-up situation--whatever damage they’d be doing here couldn’t have been worse than what had already happened to the Oranges.

“Okay, so when we go in there, one of ‘em ain’t gonna act right,” Lightning muttered, guiding them towards the mansion with all the finesse of a daring adventurer.  “And since neither of you have met them, it won’t be obvious at first.  That’s where I come in.”

“You can tell when the creators are gonna possess them or whatever?” Babs wondered.

“Yeah, ‘cause like most glitches, Aunt and Uncle Orange have unique habits.  Aunt Orange’s vocal cords got destroyed somehow, probably on the way down to the Motherboard, so all she really does is smile and look pretty.  And, as I mentioned before, Uncle Orange practically starts all his sentences with ‘well, actually.’  So if Aunt Orange starts talking, or if our friend Mosely stops being an insufferable stallionsplainer…” 

With a roll of her eyes, Lightning approached the door and knocked gently.  However, due to the sheer size and hollowness of the manor, it seemed to echo all around the area.  Or it could have just been another weird Motherboard thing.  Coco wasn’t quite sure, but it still scared her to the bone anyway.

In fact, just about everypony was affected by the aura the house gave off.  Possession and mansions didn’t tend to go well together, after all.  After the echoing ceased, even the Motherboard itself seemed deathly silent, and the only pony who dared to speak was Babs, the youngest of the group.  A pony who’d only been out in the world for a few weeks, and therefore didn’t know better than to raise her voice in a place like this.

“Is ‘stallionsplaining’ even a word?” she finally spoke, either unaware of the situation’s gravity or trying to brighten the mood.  

“This isn’t the time--” 

Before anypony else could intervene, the door burst open to reveal a sharply dressed stallion, seemingly unaccompanied by his wife.  Strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be a single trace of orange on him, even in spite of his name.  Stranger yet, Coco seemed to dwell on this fact more than anything else, more than the dangerous revelations that awaited her.

Something doesn’t seem right about this stallion, Coco thought to herself as the other pony began to speak.

“Well, actually, it’s more of a neologism,” he explained in a bored drawl.  “Technically, while ‘stallionsplaining’ can be found in some less reputable dictionaries, the Trottingham English Dictionary has yet to accept it; ergo, ‘stallionsplaining’ is not a word.  Assuming it were a word, it would be used to refer to a stallion who assumes that nopony in the audience knows what he is prattling about and therefore feels the need to explain practically everything.  But, of course, this posits the problematic proposition that only stallions are capable of this behavior, when, in actuality, I abhor all ponies who speak in such a manner.”

All three mares stood in front of the stallion completely slack-jawed.  

Is this stallion self-aware at all?  Coco thought to herself as he kept talking.

“Ah, yes, I do have that effect on ponies,” he continued, placing a hoof through his hair.  “It’s a wonder I was even named a glitch to begin with, hmm?  I certainly don’t see anything wrong with myself, do you?”

“Don’t you dare answer that,” Lightning muttered under her breath, noticing the mischievous look on Babs’ face.  “Even if you do interpret that to be an order from him.”

Babs’ face fell slightly, but not before shooting her pegasus friend a thankful look that said everything she and Coco need to know.

Thanks for not dropping me off with this guy, it seemed to say.  I can’t even spend ten seconds with him.

“Aaanyway,” Coco finally interrupted, “do you have any idea where your wife is?  We’re supposed to meet up with her in a few minutes.”

Mosely put a hoof to his chin in thought, and somehow, he managed to make even that act seem condescending.

“That’s quite odd; I certainly don’t recall making such a meeting.  If I did, I wouldn’t have let her go out foraging for the day.  You see, she’s a very accomplished mare, a true lapidarian, if you will.  That’s a jewelry maker, to all of you unenlightened ponies.”

At this point, Babs was almost gritting her teeth at the annoyingly pompous stallion and Lightning had rolled her eyes enough times, Coco swore they were going to slide out.  But just then, when he was about to open his mouth yet again and fill the mercifully silent space with more obscure words, Mosely’s eyes began to glow.

Even though Coco couldn’t pretend to like the stallion, the expression on his face as it happened was still nothing short of terrifying.  Once his eyes stopped glowing, all color seemed to drain from them, and wires began to appear all over his body.  If it weren’t for those frighteningly odd features and the things Lightning had told her before, Coco would have almost sworn he was a normal pony having a seizure.  His body contorted as if he was having a particularly extreme one, yet somehow, his face didn’t seem to show any pain.

It didn’t seem to show anything.

That, more than anything, was what gave Coco the courage to ask the question that’d been driving her for weeks.  Because, without emotions, what consequences could really come of her curiosity?

“Why did you call me and Lightning back to Equestria?”

The Mosely that was no longer Mosely simply turned his face towards Coco and smiled.

“Because that was always our plan.  The show can’t go on forever, after all.  We’re already creating all-new pony AIs, but in the process, we’ve been thinking about what to do with all of you.  Our audience has grown quite attached to you, even to those of you that...didn’t come out quite right.”

‘Mosely’ shot a look at Babs as he said this, and Coco hoped against hope that it meant the real Mosely was fighting against the takeover.  Because if that condescending face was real, if it came from the creators...Coco almost didn’t need to know why Babs had been trapped in her capsule for so long.

“But what’s that got to do with bringing us back?” Lightning yelled.  “Some of us would rather be here, you know?  And you said it yourself--Equestria’s near its end.  What’s even the point of bringing new ponies in?”

“And why didn’t you take all of us?” Coco asked, no matter how much she dreaded the answer.

“That’ll take quite a while to explain,” ‘Mosely’ replied.  “I might just have to prepare some tea while we wait.  But for now, I can at least answer the misnomer’s question.  Because, you see, we do intend on taking all of you, one way or another.  Have you ever taken the time to really examine your source code?”

Coco cocked her head in confusion.  Of course she had, but the way the creators had coded it, it was practically unintelligible, even to her.  And, to some extent, that suited her.  She was a machine without origin, without any sort of knowledge of what she really was.

She spent so long thinking about that very fact that she didn’t even realize that the creators were infiltrating her body, too.  All it took was a single beam from ‘Mosely’s’ forehead, from where his horn should have been, and she was motionless in an aura of light.  Even if she could move, she was too terrified of what would come, what sorts of thoughts they would place in her head.  By the time ‘Mosely’ focused that same beam on Babs, knocking out both her and Lightning, the terror practically overwhelmed Coco.

Is there any limit to their power?  Any way to beat them for good?  Or will it always turn out like this?

When the dust finally settled, all Coco could see was a single signal above her head, the essence of her source code distilled into a few simple lines.  Just as she was about to process everything else, though, ‘Mosely’s’ voice rang through her ears yet again.

“Did you ever really sit and think about why you saved that filly?” he asked.  “Why you seem so willing to protect her, even though you’ve only known her for a few weeks?  Why you’d die for her if the chance arose?”

Before Coco could answer, ‘Mosely’ forced her head towards Babs’ unconscious body and the line of code that manifested above her.  Coco barely had to look to know they were identical in almost every way.

“A little pony up against the big city, forced to obey villains who exploit her very nature.  She gets the chance to return, bigger and brighter than ever, but only once.  We could be describing either one of you, because you were created from her wreckage.  Her source code is yours, and all this time, that was all you wanted to find.  You wanted to find your missing piece, and now you have it.”

“No!” Coco screamed as Babs stayed motionless.  “The three of us are more than that.  We’re more than your code!  Everything I did was to protect her, and that’s more real than anything you could give me.”

Coco expected just about anything at that point--disownment, deletion, any sort of attacks the creators could throw at her.  But instead, all ‘Mosely’ did in response was smile.  Not a villainous smile, but rather a warm one she would have never imagined on his face, like a proud parent congratulating their child.

“Maybe that’s the case,” he said.  “Maybe you really have transcended.  That’s all we could hope for, really.  Independence.”

Babs finally came back to her senses, practically launching herself onto the stallion for what he’d revealed to her.  Anypony in Equestria or the Motherboard would if their creator treated them like trash, after all.  Yet somehow, something stopped her in her tracks.  In any other case, Coco would never have been able to tell what kept the filly from attacking, but now that their source codes were linked, she could envision what Babs was seeing as if it was from her own eyes.

“We’re more than your code!”

Babs shouldn’t have even been awake then, but somehow, the image of Coco standing up for her had burned itself into her brain.  It pulsed through the filly’s thoughts like a heavenly chorus, building her up again and again.  Helping her transcend.

Instead, all Babs did was ask a single question, just as Coco had.

“If you were able to fix my code enough to put it in her, why didn’t you fix me?  Why’d you keep it from me?”

“Because we weren’t sure if it was something we could fix,” ‘Mosely’ said.  “It’s much easier to give somepony else independence from the start than it is to free a long-suffering pony from their shackles.  Because independence is something that ponies gain, not something that can be programmed.  That’s why, as soon as the show ends, everypony will end up back in the Motherboard forever.  We realized over the years that we got so caught up in our success, we barely let our creations live for themselves.  So once the lights go out, you’ll be free to live your own life, glitched or not.”

With a small wink, ‘Mosely’ continued, “Plus, we underestimated you a lot.  We’ve seen you program yourself towards independence these last few weeks, something we thought impossible.  We put you in that capsule because we were so afraid of what ponies could do to you, how they could hack you into something truly terrible, but now it’s safe to say you’ve grown into your own pony.  Episode or not.”

As Lightning finally struggled to wake up, Coco finally took a few moments to process everything that’d happened.  One minute, ‘Mosely’ had told her that Babs was just a part of her source code, and now, he claimed she was her own pony.  Somehow, Babs was a part of Coco, Coco 1.0 almost, and yet somehow she wasn’t.

As if he could read her mind, ‘Mosely’ answered, “All that hostility from before was a test, and we swear that with our lives.  We wanted to see if our AIs could really achieve the independence we desired from them, and judging from your reaction, we can safely say you’ve all passed.  And before you say anything else, even if Lightning was asleep for a lot of it, her very life here is proof enough.  Just enough, in fact, for us to grant all of you a miracle.”

Suddenly, three objects materialized in front of everypony--a Wonderbolts lead pony badge, an apple-shaped brooch, and Coco’s own hair flower.  The sight was so unreal that Coco even tapped the back of her head, only to find that her usual flower was no longer there.

“Three prized possessions for three ponies that were meant to stay together,” ‘Mosely’ explained.  “Keep them in the Motherboard when you go back, and you will never truly forget.  If anypony desires to fight fate, it’s you.  And even if we didn’t think so...we all know you’d find your own way back eventually.”

And just like that, the creators dissolved into a cloud of white dust, and the three remaining ponies discussed their fates, filling each other in on what they had missed and what they had found.  For once, they were alone together.  Alone forever.  

Through the Motherboard and beyond.