//------------------------------//
// On the Road 
// Story: Lifesparks 
// by Sythax 
//------------------------------//

Sweetie Bot's bed rocked with every heave of her artificial lungs, the covers soaked with nearly every ounce of water she had to spare. Had the discovery of her real self really changed her that much? Before yesterday, she could never have imagined threatening a pony like that. What was wrong with her?
And then there was the fact she didn't even know if she felt sorry about it. She could feel sorry, but whether that regret was real or not annoyed her no end. Could a machine develop feelings of its own? Did she really love Rarity and her parents, or was her subconscious system just running a program to fuel the illusion of consciousness? Nopony knew. At least, nopony in Ponyville.
She lifted her head from her hooves. Nopony in Ponyville. But what about in Manehatten? Could her creator, her father tell her more about her emotions? Did some engineer many miles away have the answers she was seeking? It seemed like a long shot; he may not even live there anymore. For all she knew, he had died by now, his knowledge with him.
Was she willing to do it? To travel halfway across the country to find a pony that may not even be alive? The answer was yes, to say she loved somepony and to know beyond a doubt that she meant it. That it wasn't her mind trying to convince her it was true; she was defiantly willing to do it.
But how to get there? The train was the obvious choice, although how inconspicuous would she be without her joint covers? The black rubber wasn't exactly subtle. She supposed she could wear a cloak of some kind, as long as she was careful only the engineer would know of her true identity.
She jumped from her bed, ignoring the impact report that appeared on her HUD. Time was of the essence— a quick data search showed her that the next train to Manehatten left in approximately 23 minutes. If she was quick, she could pack her bare essentials and be on that train in time.
She ran to her closet, plucking her saddlebag from the bottom. Throwing it onto her back, she grabbed a few things she wanted to take. First was a photo of her and Rarity with their parents. It had been take on a trip to Saddle Arabia; she could still remember the blistering heat of the afternoon sun, a temperature her database now told her that had reached 35 degrees Celsius. Next was a small bag of bits she had been saving; she had been planning to take Rarity to a fancy restaurant in Canterlot for her birthday, but now it would be used for her train fare.
With a final look around her room, she headed for the door. She didn't need clothes, now that she could turn off her temperature sensors at will. She looked at the bed, remembering the many nights she had slept there as Sweetie Belle, each memory captured unnaturally clear in her data banks.
She closed the door behind her, making a mental list of the things she still needed. A handy list appeared on her vision; at the top, it said 'Blueprints', just in case the engineer didn't have his own. Next, it said 'Photograph'. She remembered seeing a picture of her parents with a rather wiry pony in Rarity's chest. If her hunch was correct, that pony was her creator. Without an address to find him at, that photo was her only hope. The last item on the list was 'Cloak'. She knew where Rarity stored her fabric; it was just a matter of quickly cutting a piece big enough.
She set off down stairs, ready to gather her equipment. The blue chest stood where it had been the previous night, its lid closed once again. With a heave, she pried it open and peered inside. There were her blueprints and the photograph, just as she remembered. She reached in and lifted them out, placing them in her saddlebag.
Now her cloak— the black fabric sat on a shelf on the other side of the boutique. She scrambled over, her HUD telling before she got there that it was out of reach. She looked around and spotted a chair up against Rarity's work station. She placed her hooves against it, pushing it along until it was lined up with the shelf.
She climbed up, reaching the fabric with ease. She jumped back down to the floor and unrolled the cloth, its dark black weave perfect for what she needed. She powered up her horn, guiding a low power laser across the fabric. The smell of burning threads wafted past her face, demanding a combustion analysis from her subconscious. She ignored it.
Throwing her saddlebag onto the floor she placed the newly-cut cloth on her back, fashioning a crude cloak and hood from the dark strands. It was by no standards a masterpiece, but Sweetie Bot was going for functionality over form.
With her saddlebags replaced on her back, she was ready. She had fourteen minutes to catch the train. If she turned her ear sensors up enough, she could hear it clicking along the tracks many miles away.
She scribbled a note for Rarity; it would be cruel to leave without any explanation. With a sigh, she opened the door, fresh air drifting in from the sunshine outside. Rarity would be devastated, but she would understand in time why Sweetie Bot had to do this.
With a soft click, she closed the door behind her, leaving nothing but a note and some singed fabric to say she had ever been there at all.





The shop was quiet when Rarity entered. She had expected to find Sweetie Bot home from school. She was anxious to know how it had gone; foals could be testy at the best of times. She walked into the boutique, frowning as she sniffed. The smell of burnt fabric lay gently in the air. Had she left something on the radiator? She didn't think she had, she was due to do her washing today.
Shrugging off the smell, she continued to her work station. Sweetie Bot was probably with her friends in that little clubhouse of theirs. She frowned again; why was her chair by the shelf? She could have sworn she hadn't put it there. Wait, what was that? A small piece of parchment lay on her desk, the curly type upon it was recognisable as Sweetie Bot's. Why would she leave her a note?
With trembling hooves, she picked up the letter, her heart turning cold before she even began to read it.
Dear Rarity
I know you love me; so do Mum and Dad. Even after what happened to the original Sweetie Belle, you still treated me like family.
But unfortunately, I cannot say the same for myself. While I feel emotions, I am doubtful of their validity. How can I live my life saying I love you when I cannot say whether it is true? To return your love with hollow emotions feels wrong.
So I have set out to find out more about my own mind. Am I just a clever program? Can I ever develop real feelings? I have so many questions—questions you cannot answer. Only one pony in Equestria can. I know you would never have let me go; you must understand why I am doing this, for you and for me.
I do not know how long I will be gone—it could be days or weeks. Just know that I will come home. I would never leave you like this if I did not feel this had to be done. Hopefully, when we see each other again, I can say 'I love you' and know, deep down, that I mean it.
Your sister,
Sweetie Bot
Rarity's tears became fiercer with each line she read. She hadn't realised how important this was to Sweetie Bot. How could she? Her emotions were as sure as eggs are eggs. She had never seen things from Sweetie's view. To have your entire consciousness created in a lab—of course she was going to doubt it! How had she not seen it sooner?
"I'm sorry, Sweetie Bot," she whispered. "What have I done?"





The train conductor looked suspiciously over his moustache as Sweetie Bot handed over her ticket. A young filly dressing from horn to hoof in a black cloak getting onto a train alone? He tried to think of any laws that prevented this kind of thing. When none came to mind, he begrudgingly ripped the ticket partially down the middle and allowed her on board. She sighed with relief. She hadn't counted on the possibility that they might not let her on the train alone.
But she was on, the way forward was clear. She was shaking with excitement as she made her way into the rear-most carriage. Here she was, on her way to answer her most frustrating questions. It was both intimidating and liberating at the same time.
The carriage was mostly empty; only a handful of ponies sat this far back in the train. She made her way down the aisle, smiling at the ponies already in their seats. They looked at her cloak oddly, but smiled back all the same. Halfway down the carriage, she sat down on an empty seat, putting as many rows between her and the other passengers as possible. The fewer questions they asked, the better.
She peered out of the window, expecting to see Rarity come charging round the corner at any second. Her hoof tapped the window frame nervously as she counted down the minutes until the train departed. She watched as a small unicorn colt approached the conductor, his ticket held out ready. With another suspicious look, he ripped the ticket, hustling the colt onto the carriage.
Sweetie Bot watched as he appeared at the end of the aisle, looking around for an empty seat. His eyes lit up as he spotted the empty one next to her and made a beeline for it despite passing several empty rows along the way.
As he approached, she got a good look at him. His coat was a light grey, the colour complimenting his dark purple mane, which stuck up in numerous messy spikes. His eyes were a pale shade of blue that looked at her expectantly as he spoke.
"Um… do... you mind if I sit here?" he asked, his voice had a very faint nasal quality as if he had a cold despite it being summertime. Maybe he had hay fever?
She nodded silently in response. He beamed and sat down beside her, placing his large saddlebags beside the seat. They clanked with the sound of heavy metal. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was about the same age as her, or the age she would have been if she actually aged; her body simulated growth in a similar fashion to living ponies.
He caught her staring and she quickly looked away, her cheeks filling with pink pigment. He offered a hoof to shake.
"Hi, I'm Bolts," he said cheerfully.
She took the hoof, shaking it gently with 3.26 Newtons of force as her system kindly reminded her.
"I'm Sweetie B..." she tailed off it wasn't wise to use her new name around strangers, it might draw unwanted attention. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish.
"Sweetie Belle" she said "My name is Sweetie Belle."
"Nice to meet you, Sweetie Belle," he said with a smile. "What takes you to Manehatten?"
She pondered the question, wondering how to answer with as few lies as possible.
"Just visiting an uncle," she replied. It was close enough. "What about you?"
He looked down shiftily, placing a hoof protectively over his saddlebag.
"Same," he replied. "Just family."
She knew he was lying. What was in his saddlebag? She decided it was best not to pry.
The two of them lapsed into silence. With a jolt, the train jumped into motion, the clicking of the wheels on the tracks becoming faster and faster, as strong and steady as a heartbeat. Ponyville raced past; she spotted the Carousel Boutique. She gave a mental farewell as the town was replaced with fields and trees. She watched Sweet Apple Acres zoom past, gone in an instant.
Within minutes, Ponyville was behind her, the mountains that stood between Ponyville and Manehatten looming miles in the distance. It was going to be a long trip.
But it would be worth it.