Gadget awoke that morning to the sound of her alarm clock. She shifted in bed and groaned as the vestiges of sleep left her, and she reached with her foreleg to the space beside her.
It was empty and cold.
The memory of the previous day and the dreadful things that had happened came back to her, as did the memory that she’d fought against sleep while holding Turing Test tightly to her until sleep had finally won out.
She rolled over, smirking to herself with the thought that Turing was probably downstairs already, breakfast just about ready to be served.
But when she left her little alcove at the top corner of the Vanderbull factory, she caught nothing in the air but the usual scent of machinery and motor oil and the usual components of her workshop. Her hooves echoed throughout the cavernous building as she made her way down the grated metal walkways, and the silence of the place was suddenly overwhelming. She’d grown accustomed to the small but notable sounds of Turing Test busy at something for the last week, and now she wondered how she’d ever been able to stand how quiet the place was when she’d been alone.
Alone. The thought of that word, along with the silence of the place left her with an uneasy feeling that crawled up her spine and around her neck, and she began to sweat.
She tried to put it out of mind as she raised a hoof to her mouth and called out, “Turing?” loudly, only to receive her own echo in reply.
She went down to the kitchen area and saw that it was spotless, but she looked to the kitchen table and saw a folded note resting on it, her name written neatly upon the top fold.
She swallowed and reached for the note. She unfolded it and began to read.
A cry escaped her lips and she stumbled back.
“Turing!” she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the factory. She ran outside, calling her friend’s name in desperation, hoping against hope to catch her, to stop her as the letter fell to the ground, the words written immaculately and open to the air.
Gadget,
By the time you read this, I will be gone. I requested retirement a short time ago, and the transport will be here soon.
I realize that this action will hurt you, and I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for that. But please believe me when I say that I truly valued our time together. Your friendship and kindness were all that made my existence seem bearable. I know it is cowardly of me to do this while you sleep, but I know that you would convince me to carry on if I told you of my plans, and that would only be delaying the inevitable.
For so long, I continued living because I believed that it was my just punishment for failing to protect Maud Pie. But with your help, I have come to see the truth. My mind had begun to fracture under the strain of carrying my burden, but now I can see clearly. Maud Pie did not want me to suffer; she wanted me to be happy.
But happiness for a Familiar is to serve her master. And if I were to continue living, it would be in denial of that truth. I would not truly be living; I would just be killing time. And it would burden me. And, in time, I would be a burden to you as well. I simply cannot love you as dearly as I loved Maud Pie. I treasure you, Gadget, and that is why I cannot let the shadow of my eternal grief darken your life.
Please do not be sad for me. Thanks to you, I can finally go to my final rest without regret. And though it may seem hypocritical of me to ask this of you, I ask that you live on and find happiness in your own life.
Who knows? Perhaps, in some other world, we may meet again. Until then, I must say goodbye.
Forever your friend,
Turing Test
Outside the factory, Gadget’s haggard cries echoed out over the lifeless streets, the dull hum of the city above continuing heedlessly on. The young mare collapsed onto asphalt, her sobs of anguish filling the air.
A few solitary weeks later, Gadget climbed into the cockpit of the Blues Drive Monster for another race, this time through the rocky terrain of a canyon in the desert. She’d been all smiles and jokes before the race, and she wore a customary smirk as she chatted with the other racers. Once she took her starting position, her smile faded into a look of resignation.
When two different people would rather choose death than accept your care… what does it say about you? About what you’re even worth?
As the various crafts dove into the canyon, their engines’ roars echoing against the rock walls, Gadget pushed her own engines as far as they would go before dumping a canister of thaumatrium into the system, filling them with explosive pressure.
“Mama… Turing…” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, “...I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”
Alarms blared and com messages roared through her speakers as she veered off course at top speed, the craft taking a hard turn right away from the path and straight toward the broad face of a cliff.
Simulation A: “Resignation” Terminated
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