Sweetie Bot - A Heart's Warming Tale

by Grimweird

Chapter 17. Ghost in the Shell

Sweetie awoke to a small room. A room that was lit up so bright that the light reflecting off the metal walls made the space seem as white as a clinic.

Sweetie could barely recall something about light. One of the last things she could remember was her whole world erupting in an ocean of light. And the sad part was that it was not the first time her world had exploded. Nor the first time she had overloaded, by integrating with dangerous electrical devices.

She could not remember, only suspect that what had happened. That had her ears been functional, she would have heard the roll of thunder. Had she been able to look up, she would have seen the lightning cascade coming. And she could conclude that the energy of the sky did enter her body, in the most violent way possible.

However. The power of a lightning bolt (or a dozen) was far more than her battery was made to handle. And as the power overflowed her, every circuit and every system became instantly overcharged. Thus, there was no clear memory file of what past the point on the overload. All she knew was that one moment she was clinging on to a tower for dear life. Next was only a hazy conception that she was flying through the air. And the notes of a massive discharge, that could only have come from her shoulder mounted energy canons.

It made sense. All this extra energy needed somewhere to go. And following with her last conscious thought, her self made subroutine sent the blasters working overtime. Without any functional backblast, their recoil could only have added to the force by which she was thrown off the tower.

Her last conscious thought ... there had been someone, somepony, something moving in the corner of her fading vision.

Now. There was somepony standing straight in front of her. A pair of blue, honest eyes looked straight into hers. They belonged to a yellow pegasus stallion in a tight doctors coat, as clean and clinically white as the room.

He pulled his hoof through his sleek brown mane in perfect unison with Sweetie, as she performed the same motion.
Except, it was not her hair. It could not be. Her black metal scalp did not have a single strand last time she checked. Nor could it be her hoof, there was way too much skin on it.

(She was stuck in this dream like state - In the back of her mind. She could still hear the start up sequence as the rest of her body rebooted)

The stallion started speaking
"We have been discussing the science behind an artificial soul for some time. But I thought I should share my own thoughts on the matter, individually... Alone"

He rubbed his template.

"'Cheese's'. It still feels so wrong to talk to oneself like this." He sighed "Anyhow, It seems as our research has led to more than just a way to enhance brain activity. After watching that little foal's mind being absorbed into the crystal, the rest of us started wondering about its potential for storage. What if these things can not just enhance brain patterns - but store them as well?

The others have brought up the idea of capturing the entire electronic symphony of a mind inside a crystal. But even if we were able to do such a thing - which I doubt - we would not even have any volunteers. And we can't steal ponies to experiment on. What does that say about the mind? About the soul?

Would the copied electric symphony inside not be merely a copy of the mind it was adapted from? And would not that mind remember its time inside a living body of blood and flesh? How would the mind react if it was stripped of its body, to loose all senses and ways of which to interact with the world around it. Why, I think it would go mad.

But... what if we had a mind that did not know what it was like to live yet? Such an undeveloped mind would really not be losing anything.
So, would it not be much more prone to adapting into its new being? Can it even be called adapting, if it has no previous experiences to compare its current being to?

Luckily, the family that I have been working with for years has provided us with just such a mind. Something we did not dare to dream of. A blank mind. A blank soul. A soul that has not experienced the world through a body of flesh and blood. A soul that had not lived.”

He chuckled to himself.

“I now understand the necessity of secrecy, and why this research is so controversial. No one would ever give up the soul of her unborn fetus!”

"Though ... I do not think it ..."

He let out a long and troubled sigh.

"... I should not speak badly of Doctor Neurosa. But I sometimes get a bad feeling from her. I get the sense that she would have been willing to go out and steal a fetus, to run these experiments of hers. Sometimes, she seems to show more affection for our patient than her own family. And I don't know if it is for the sake of medical research, or if she has something else in mind … Sigh. Can it even be called that any more? It seems more like Necromancy each day. Not helped by that the fool Necro, who keeps calling it that.”

"As for me. I did what I did to save the soul of my patient. But ... have I really done just that that? Have I preserved a soul by tearing it out of its sickly inefficient shell?"

"I checked, and the electronic readings inside the device are identical to the neurological pattern that remained inside the filly's brain-substance. Not only that, but the electric frequencies inside are actually increasing. A bit strange, since, when Neurosa approatched me with her idea, I thought that it was the organic brain cell's activity that was supposed to be increased. Not the implant itself. Most worrying however, was that the neuron signals in the rest of the brain seems to be... slowing down as the implant's efficiency were growing.

He scratched himself even harder, and looked even more worried.

"Cheese - I'm a doctor, I'm suppose to save life. Yet here I am wondering if we have really done just that? Or has in fact, that little foal died? Have we really managed to capture the filly's brain pattern? Or have we just made a copy out of it? Do we just have a copy of life?"

He looked up into the mirror.

"A copy of the template of life? A digitalised, essence? An artificial version of the bare essentials of what makes a pony tick?
Then – are we no longer saving a life, but creating something new? Can one create an artificial soul?
And what happens when that blank template starts to grow into its own being?"

He stared deep into the reflection of his own eyes.

"I want to believe that I can save this patient. Even if the methods are unorthodox. And if that energy inside that device really contains the filly's brain patterns, then why not also the soul?"

He rubbed his template again, and his wings fluttered nervously.

"I always believed that there is a soul in all living things, and if this thing truly can come alive. Then, will it not to have a soul?. But will it be a copy of a soul? Cheese - I used to believe that every soul was unique to every creature. But if it grows up into an altered creature, then will the soul not also be altered? And ... if so... will it be a different kind of soul from what we are used to? If it needs an entirely new definition, is it even a soul anymore?"

"For if you create something entirely new, what then are we gonna compare it to?"

"And can a crystal really contain it?"

A sound of a hoof knocking on metal broke up the discussion that the stallion was having with himself. He turned away from the mirror and faced a metal door without window or doorhandle. As small sense of deja vu tingled in the back of Sweetie's head as the stallion pressed a hoof-dial that sat next to the doorframe, and the iron door sunk away into the floor.

Outside, stood a jet black stallion. A horn was barely visible underneath his long mane that shone with such a vibrant red color that it seemed to light up the gray metallic corridor all on its own. The only thing that seemed to shine brighter than his hair was the fiery red color in his eyes.

"Hello Necro. I was just talking about you."

The black stallion stuck his head inside the doorframe, and looked around.

“Talking to yourself then, I see, Shockwave " He commented. "Never took you for a vanity type."

Then a big smile spread across his black lips, as if he just figured out where the candy was hidden.

"I get it. Recording another visual log are you?”

The pegasi guiltily scratched the back of his head, causing another wave of static to temporarily distort the memory.

"It still feels strange doing this." He said "But it saves us hours of work trying to type it all down with these hoof dials."

He gestured to the button on the door, then to a strange looking typewriter standing on his desk. It looked more advanced than your regular typewriter in that it had two hoof dials as the only buttons for it keyboard, and instead of a piece of paper there was a small monitor screen sticking up from the top.

"I swear I am never gonna learn that trick of dialing. I guess that for earth ponies it comes naturally to use their hooves, and you unicorns can use your telekinesis to turn the buttons. But we pegasi tend to favor our wings."

As to demonstrate. He picked up a notepad in one wing, and then held it in front of him, between the feathers. Reading it while walking on all fours as he exited out into the corridor, the door automatically sliding back up behind him.

"Using these dials just adds hours to an already long report."

"And it adds many hours again trying to code our data so that only we can read it." Necro laughed "I swear that mare comes up with a new secrecy contingency plan every other day. If you ask me, is getting more paranoid by every third day."

"Which is why we are not supposed to talk." Said the pegasi "But anyway, what is on your mind that is so important that you decided to see me?"

Necro smiled a wicked smile.

"lets call it an offer of adjudicant understanding. Because its come to my attention that you have "concerns" about the motivations in our little group."

The feathers in the pegasus wings tensed. But his face remained calm.

"Its true" He said. "sometimes I don't understand what is going on in their heads."

Necro laughed.

"Actually, I came to offer you an opportunity, for I think I have just the way to get inside their heads."

The pegasi's ears perked.

"How?"

Necro waved his hoof in front of him.

"Ah ah ah... In private."

The pegasi coughed assenting, then reached up to scratch the back of his head again. And this time, the vision hazed out completely, until only static remained.

Sweetie recoiled in fear and disgust to what she had heard. The words "necromancy" and "death of a foal" danced in her increasingly clearing mind. (the few bits and pieces that stayed with her as she awoke from the dream-haze).
Was her worst theories confirmed? did her mind really come from another foal? And had that foal died and they ripped the soul from her? It sure sounded like it. And what was all that about foal-napping? Who would willingly give up their life for the sake of some twisted research?

These questions would have to wait, for as Sweetie reactivated her eyes, they gave way to another anxiety.

She found herself staring up into a leafless tree. The branches piercing the dark heaven like spears.

Was she lying under a tree? No. The branches were way too close. She was right in the middle of this thorny crown. And she was not lying down. The spirit-leveler in her balance system told her she was hanging upright. Her legs were dangling underneath her. She tried to orient herself. But found she could not move her head. Her entire body was hanging limp from the neck and down.

Sweetie raised her hoof towards her throat to see what was the matter. But her hoof was stopped a few inches away from its goal by something she could not see. Something that prevented her from tilting her head. She raised her other hoof and started feeling around the obstruction. Trying to paint a mental image of the object. And it was not a pretty image. The object was round and long, extending from her throat and outwards - far past her reaching point - In towards what was the center of this tree.

Her heart beat would have raised to what all this information added up to. Add to it that Her armor only covered her body and limbs- not the head. Leaving her throat exposed. Combined with the last elevated place she had been on. And an overload that sent her flying through the air. And that she was now in the middle of a naked tree crown full of sharp looking branches.

And that branch went in far, judging from that her repair system was tying to smooth up damage caused to the INSIDE of her neck vertebrae.

This should also be very, very fatal to ponies. She should have been choking, wheezing for air and/or gurgling on her own body fluids. Unthinkingly she tried to speak. But her voice was gone. In its place was a only a choked Static followed by a spark as the broken circuits burned themselves out from even trying.

Sweetie did not want to have a fatal damage done to her. Even less she wanted to be hanging from a tree, by the branch piercing her throat. She began to kick her back legs, sending herself swinging trying to free herself.

A voice in her head tried to tell her to calm down - that she had already drowned once and come out fine. But she did not listen. the fear for her voice made her swing even harder as she started to pull the branch to get it out of her. The piece of wood started creaking as she started to swing up and down.

Suddenly there was a 'snap', and she was falling.

Sweetie tried to grab onto something. But her armored body smashed through every branch she hit, and she landed with a hard 'thud' on the muddy ground.

Sweetie slowly but steadily pulled the last of the branch out of her throat. Then she threw that fork of a bough as far away as she could. Which was further than she could see. The stick flew up and up until it disappeared into the dark heaven. Her strength was back, and all the systems were charged to the max.

What was not back however, was her voice...

All she had was a sparkling crackle. Sweetie immediately sent all restorative energy she could to her voicebox. She even reactivated her airpump for added effect. As if pumping oxygen through her throat would help.

She coughed - And a black cloud expelled from her mouth. It was followed not by the dry gurgle as a pony typically produces when they have something stuck up their throats, but a crackling, buzzing sound as there would be from a radio stuck between radio stations. Sweetie checked her voicebox, trying to dial her voice back as she just kept making that static sound.

Sweetie coughed a few more times. Hoping to blow out the soot that must be interfering with her voice module. The frequency of the static changed to a whistle as the repair program kept rebuilding the tiny transistors as best they could. Eventually the whistle turned into a high pinched shriek, like some leaking steam whistle on helium.

-:: What? What is happening to my voice? Where is my voice?! ::-

She kept trying as the last available components nicked themselves together. And she was finally starting to get words out of her mouth.

But what came out - was not her voice. It was some kind of wheezy crackly little squeak mixed with static. It sounded almost like one of those throat cancer victims that had to put a vibrator to their neck in order to speak. It sounded metallic. It sounded ... It sounded ...

No ... NO!

She double checked and triple checked her sound files. The data kept flowing through the component like it always had. But she just could not her it to sound like herself. The sound quality would simply not improve.

Sweetie immediately sent all restorative energy she could to her voicebox. She traveled through the component, herself and pulled energy from every magical restoration crystal she could find. But it did not help. She re-calibrated her voice box a thousand times, even tried a few different sound files from memory. But the best she could manage was to give herself a slightly squeaky robotic voice.

Her voicebox remained imperfect.

Maybe there was still a piece of wood inside her - messing with the systems.

She grabbed at the throat. But the hole that had been in her throat was gone.

WHY? Why could her neck tendons and vertebrae be restored but not her voice?

She mentally traveled into her voicebox and checked every circuit. What she found - did not match up with any of her prior 'inner journeys'.

While every available wire had been restored, some of them simply ended into nothingness. Her restorative energy had to travel through those wires. And if they were not connected to anything anymore, then ... then the component, whatever it might be, could not be restored.

What had happened to these components? A few theories appeared in her mind.

The components in her sensitive little voice box were damaged by lightning. Some of the circuitry had melted away and some components might be missing altogether.

Why? why? why? You stupid restoration system. What good was it if it could not recreate the missing pieces at the end of the wires!? Why could the repair magic not repair this?

It was true. Nowhere in her mind could she find any schematics for a voicebox. The blueprints she had taken from the mechanic was all about various stages on his Steel Stallions, and those mechanical warriors did not need to talk.

The thought of the mechanic made her angry. Had he done something to her voice? Had he deleted something?

She started clawing, pulling and pressing at her throat, to somehow make it sound normal again. But nothing worked. Regardless how she tried. She even tried to preposition her tongue to change the sound.

Sweetie froze. Another dreaded realization washed over her like a bucket of ice.
Very slowly she journeyed into her throat, and she followed the systems up into her mouth.

She came to a halt at a guiding stick. A guiding stick that had once connected a flurry of nerves from a moistly sponge like organ to her taste sensors were now simply waving uselessly in her empty palate. The regenerative crystals that had once healed the insides of her cheeks every time she would bite herself now lied as dormant as the empty nerve ports.

If not her fainting sequence had been deleted from her BP, She would very well have rolled over and done just that as she realized that, If her ability to taste had also been deleted, the last thing her tongue would have tasted would be the metal from the bar of a wet lightning rod. A tower that had been struck by lightning. Lightning that contained untold volts. Enough to burn a pony to a crisp.

Or at least - scorch a part of them.

Then, she realized what that black soot she had been spitting out was.

...

...

Every animal that had gone into hibernation by this time of year would get a premature awakening as Sweetie rose her head to the heavens and let out the highest metal pinched shriek that her broken voicebox could allow.

“WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?"

The shriek filled the woods with all the intensity a siren. A breathless cry that went on and on until the transistors in her imperfect voicebox burst from the abuse. And even then Sweetie continued to wail until her restoration program had fixed up the damaged well enough for her words to be heard again.

But by that time she was no longer screaming at the heavens. She had started trowing a tantrum to end all tantrums. Kicking and beating wildly around her. Picking up rocks and dirt and flinging them away into the poor trees with such force that the debris buried itself deep into the bark. Then taking out all the emotions on the defenseless woods. Punching so hard into the stems that she left holes after her metal hooves. Bucking them so hard that they were either uprooted or snapped in half.
Anything to make a dent in this horrid wretched world.

All the while she cried out to the heavens.

"Why must all the worlds misfortune happen to me!? Why does the world hate me! WHY? Why do you hate me world!?”

She finally turned to the tree of all her misfortunes. She had broken of many branched on her way out of its spear like crown. But it was not enough. Her blasters furiously popped out of her side ports as she zeroed in on the tree. A tree that was stupid enough to remain silent to her questions.

“I hate you too, world!”

With those words, Sweetie let her blasters fire a continuous beam that burned the tree from root to top. The stem exploded and sent smoldering branches and charged splinters raining down all around her.

Sweetie panted, not because she needed to, but because she felt like it.

She turned her red gaze to the rest of the of the tree's surrounding her.
She was gonna blast them all down. Every last tree was gonna burn. She was gonna burn the whole forest down, the whole world down, so it could not harm her any more.

But the worst of her anger had burned away and given way to grief. And a little voice in her to calm down. The battery symbol flashed cautionary in her vision. Not nearing depletion, just as a heads up at what her tantrum was costing her oh so dearly paid for energy reserves. And what would raging out on the world accomplish anyway? It would only waste energy on a futile task.

Such emotions where just draining her already limited energy reserves.

The emotions disagreed. They were sure that if she did not get an outlet for her frustrations, she would surely explode. And speaking of outlet: It would have been nice to have some tears to fell.

Sweetie wanted to cry out loud. But she could not let herself. Because her stupid broken voice just made it sound wrong. Her voice. Her lovely squeaky voice. Yet another piece of herself. A piece that had made her into the pony she was. Now lost to her. She would never be able to Squeak again.

No! she told herself. Punching the thoughts aside. She would squeak again. Because she was going to fix this.

The blasters retracted into her back, and she adjusted her helmet (that miraculously remained strapped to her head) as she stomped away with furious determination.

She was going to fix everything.

And then she was gonna come back and burn the rest of the forest down!

Fixing herself was gonna become a later concern. First she had to get out of this forest.

As she walked. She began to calm down. And as she calmed down, She started to think. The voice in her head started asking her what she was planning. She had managed to fulfill her most urgent need for power. But what was her long term goal?

Sweetie added "fixing herself" into her to do list. But how?

Why was there no schematic? Had she not heard somewhere that her repair program needed a schematic to repair - Had she not heard that her "growth" simulator was supposed to have a schematic of her grown up body, so it knew what to work towards?

She had. She confirmed it by revisiting an old memory log she had acquired. Alas, there was no schematic in her head. Had the mechanic deleted it? Why? She could only imagine the reason being to make her dependent on a mechanic, Make her unable to care for herself so that she would not run away.

Well - Poop on those plans. She was gonna figure out how to take care of herself. She would simply have to carefully mapping out the reaches of her body, inside and out, and compare them to the schematics of the Steel Stallions. for while there were differences, there were also a lot of similarities.

Something had showed up in her vision. Sweetie instantly snapped back into the front seat of her body, not realizing how far down she had sunken in her own thoughts.

Up ahead. She spotted a dark figure, standing alone in a small glade.

A part of her was actually glad to see the stranger. Experience taught her that if there was a pony, there would also have to be a settlement of some sorts somewhere nearby.
Experience also taught her that ponies normally did not stand in the open, completely exposed to the rain. Even if the naked trees would provide little cover, It was still highly unusual.

Sweetie hushed her systems and kept her cannon ports closed, not wanting to scare anypony who might be able to lead her out of this place.

At first she did not approach. She did not dare. Not with how she looked, and how she … sounded. What would anypony think if this metal monstrosity that she was suddenly appeared out of the darkness and started talking in a broken robotic voice? They would probably scream and run away.

Well. Even if they did, she would be able to follow them. They would probably have to run back to a home somewhere. Except, maybe they would run to get help. What if that home was filled with an angry, bloodthirsty mob who would descend upon the forest with touches and pickaxes looking to destroy her?

Sweetie might be able to fight them off. But she would rather avoid a confrontation. So she simply waited. Out of sight. Far enough back in the darkness for any pony eyes to be able to reach her.

She waited for the pony to return to whichever home it had come from. But the pony just stood there. Ever staring off into the darkness as still and stoic as a statue.

Eventually her patience grew thin. And she carefully started to move closer to the stoic pony.

“Hello?” She called out. Then immediately regretted herself, embarrassed over how her voice sounded.

But the pony gave no response. It didn't even turn its head.

Sweetie crept closer. Keeping a low profile as she carefully approached the stoic stranger, who did not even seem to breathe.

Sweetie didn't need her systems to tell her about the creepy nature of this forest and this stranger. How could he just stand there in the rain, like made of stone? Was it a statue? She had to get to the bottom of this.

She was finally standing at the edge of the glade. Close enough that she could make out the colors of the stranger. It was a brown pony with a green mane. Big and strong of build. Almost unnaturally so.

The color scheme made her think of Jr Branch and his pa Trunks. But what would they be doing here? So far away from their home?
Curiosity got the better of her. And she stepped out into the glade.

That's when the pony suddenly turned its head. And Sweetie Screamed.

It had no face. No eyes, No mouth. No nostrils. Not even any ears. Just the crude shape of a muzzle on its blank featureless head.

It moved its legs, Not so much raising its hooves as detaching itself from the muddy ground in which it had been standing. And started walking towards her. Every step emphasized by a muddy squelch. It seemed to It seemed to watch her with its eye-less head. Turning to face her with its featureless body.

As it got closer. Sweetie saw that it was indeed a statue. A statue made of clay. Or more specificity mud. Mud that slowly slid off its features in the rain. Its ragged and torn mane and tail were made of grass and moss that barely was able to stay in place as rain that hammered the creature, constantly be shifting and reforming its surface. Though never melting it.

If only it had been a real statue. Sweetie didn't know which was more horrifying. The creatures nightmarish appearance Or the fact that it moved.

The creature lowered its head, and charged her.

Stunned by shock and fear, Sweetie didn't react until the massive mudpony slammed into her chest with all the force of a freight train. It threw her into the nearest tree. And then it was instantly over her again, pinning her into the tree with all the weight of its massive body.

It reared back for a second, and then started to headbutt her. Again and again the mudpony used its skull to hammer on her chest with relentless force in an never-ending rhythm. Mud and grass splashed into sweeties eyes as it did so. She could hear her armor creaking under the assault. This beat was going to continue until it destroy her.

No! She would not have any of that. This was no time to be frozen in fear - said the voice in her head. She had to fight back. But the cannon ports to her blasters were pinned shut against the tree.

But they were not her only weapon.

As the Claypony reared up again, Sweetie grabbed hold of its head with both hooves. She buried her back hooves on its chest, and as it charged her into the tree once more, she pulled.

She had no idea how hard she pulled. But the head came of with a wet “sploch”.

Sweetie fell to the ground with a big heap of clay in her lap. The stallion staggered backwards, beheaded. But seemingly not bothered to much by this, as it quickly regained its composure and charged at her again.

The stump of the neck where the head had been quickly melted away in the rain, and the claypony no longer looked like a pony, but more like a turd with legs.

Well if the turd wanted a fight she would happily give it one. She hugged the claypony head so hard she squashed in into dirt. Then reared up just as the clay-turd was about to start stomping at her. She met its hooves with her own, and dirt splashed everywhere as the clay succumb to the force of her steel.

The clay pony staggered back once again. Now limping as it had lost one of its front legs. Sweetie was not about to let it get away. She threw herself over it and ripped off the other front leg. Causing the turd to fall to the ground.

She then ripped off its remaining legs and climbed on top of the torso. Whereupon she very literally tore it to pieces one hoof-full of clay at a time, until nothing remained but a wet puddle that she repeatedly stomped into the ground where it belonged.

“TAKE THAT YOU STUPID TURD!” She yelled down at the puddle below her.

Sweetie did not feel any pain. She did not pant, sweat or feel sore in any part of her body. But she did feel satisfaction. She had been able to vent some of the frustration that she felt over this cursed, stupid, evil forest. And had taken it out on this … this Ponyfication of the forest itself.

It really was trying to kill her, wasn't it? Why else would the forest poop out giant evil clayponies if for no other purpose than to make her life miserable?

She raised a hoof and screamed.

“TAKE THAT YOU STUPID FOREST! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT!?”

She wished she had not asked. For in that moment, more clayponies emerged from behind the trees. Slowly they walked towards her, attempting to surround her.

Sweetie had to back up in order to try and keep her back free.

“WHY!” She screamed at them. “What do you want from me? Why do you send evil clayponies after me you stupid evil forest?!"

The clayponies continued their slow approach. Their numbers formed together in a half circle. A wall of clayponies that were slowly pushing her backwards. Yet none of them charged. It was more like they were herding her away.

What was this. Some kind of punishment form the vengeful forest spirits. Was this the creatures that Branch and Trunks had warned her about. The ones that drove away all the woodcutters because they angered the forest? But what was their problem with little Sweetie? What had she ever done to them?

Unless...

“Please” She tried. “I'm sorry I blew up your tree. I'm sorry that I destroyed a few of your homes. I was just so angry. I just want to get out of this forest. I'm lost. A promise I will leave and never come back.”

She genuinely meant it. But the Clayponies did not seem to care as they marched ever closer.

“FINE! I'm leaving! I don't care that I blew up your stupid tree anyway! What kind of stupid forest creates clayponies anyway!?”

“The forest did not create these guardians.” said a voice “I did.”

The calyponies stopped. And two of them stepped aside. Alowing a dark figure to emerge from behind their ranks. Dark was the word to be emphasized here. For it was a pony so black that until it spoke again, Sweetie thought it was a shadow.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

It was a stallion. A unicorn as black as the night. With a tail and eyes as red as fire, they stuck out like the only dots of color in this muddy, damp scene. He was wearing a big top hat, and a wrinkled old tuxedo that was stained by mud and grass. He even had a wilted, yellowed flower in the chest-pocket. Misplaced clothing for the forest indeed. As he looked more like a circus director than a forest ranger. A red tail that matched his eyes wagged behind him, But Sweetie could not see a single straw of hair sticking out from under his hat. Even his neck was clean of mane.

Despite that. Sweetie recognized the figure.

“Necro...”

“Hello Molten. Nice of you to remember the name of your old rival.”

What did he just say?

“Hey! I'm not with molten. I HATE Molten!” Sweetie cried as new anger swelled up inside her.

The dark pony stepped closer. His red eyes seemed to pierce straight through Sweeties Armor.

“What is this? Some attempt to humor me? To distract me? Make me lower my guard out of sympathy?

He stepped even closer to Sweetie, Who instinctively backed away

“Or perhaps … Out of Deja vu” He raised a hoof towards Sweetie. “Because you look familiar.”

Sweetie did not know what to say. Did this mad pony think she was aligned with molten

On a whim, she introduced herself.

"Why... Yes, I'm Sweetie Belle."

Internally, she cursed her broken voice.

“So you say, yet you look just like any of his Steel Stallions – Except smaller, and more... Talkative?”

He smiled a wicked smile.

“Go on … Humor me. How do you intend to explain that you know my name. “

“Because I … I … Because I saw you. In a memory … you were talking to a pegasus. Shockwave I think you called him. And he called you Necro … because... that's your name right?”

The Black stallion stared for a moment. Then he started laughing. Ha laughed so hard he dropped and rolled around in the rain soaked dirt, further ruining his suit.

“You are telling me … He hid it THERE?” All the data we stole, and he hid it there!? Oh sweet Irony. Was it you that helped that little brat escape as we set the place on fire, Shockwave? Did you know that she carried all the fruit of our hard work, even as you claimed to see it all destroyed.”

Sweetie did not know what the stallion was talking about. Even less if she should laugh along with him.

“And now it has ended up in your hooves Molten. Does that make you think you hold all the cards now? Does that make you think you can finally conquer Equestria. How is that going anyway? Oh, that's right. Nowhere. Because you have yet to get past me!”

Suddenly Necros pose became hostile again.

“And you sent this little soul less automation at me? To taunt me?”

The word's stung. Deep. Did this stallion still think she was one of the mechanics Bloodbots? Did he think Molten could hear him – That he was perhaps controlling her? And what did he just call her!

“HEY! I'm not a soul-less automation!”

“Oh Really? Prove it.”

Sweetie froze. How was she supposed to prove such a thing? Yet, she was appendant to comply. Any chance to avoid further conflict made her willing to play along.

All she had to do... Was prove that she was alive.

She immediately thought of the thing that made her feel more alive than anything.

“I... I have feelings.”

"Feelings?"

Necro waved his hoof to one of the clay ponies as his horn flared. It started laughing. A mouth appeared on its empty face, A mouth that bent upward in a smile. It opened its mouth ans started laughing. A silent laugh as its clay-jaw wagged about. It collapsed on the ground, grabbing its belly and kicking wildly with its back leg in glee.

He waved towards another claypony, and it started crying. Tears of mud ripped from eyes that appeared on its skull. And a mouth that frowned so deep that it looked like it would fall of the muddy face. It to collapsed. Grabbing its eyes and wailing in a silent cry.

Necro looked waved his hoof around. Making all of the clayponies display some form of emotion or another.
Then he turned back to Sweetie.

"Whatever you think you have is stuff we made up, stuff we put inside you! every emotion. WE felt first, Every thought, We thought first.”

“But … But …. That's impossible. I have memories. So many memories”

“And that is all you have! He said and pointed at Sweeties head. “The evidence is right there! you have seen into other peoples memories. Does that make you those people? No. Its only a copy of a memory. A little brain frequency stored inside a crystal. You are made up of nothing but memories. Data and code that bounces together inside that little logic center of yours. All saved in that cybercore of yours."

He started creeping closer again. His horn glowed an evil red, and as he got close, sweetie could make out what looked like a nasty crack running up the length of his horn

“What would happen if those memories were … Deleted!”

He spat out the last word. Causing Sweetie to jump backwards in fear. As it he had just deleted something by merely mentioning the word.

“NO! ... I'm... I'm ... I'm …” She stammered. And wish her broken voice she really did sound like a broken record. “ I'm more than that! I... do I have a soul! At the very least a artificial soul!”

“No you don't. You only have a series of programs being bounced around in that Central Neural processor of yours."

My what? Was that her brain? Just a copy of a mind?

”But. But... Even if I don't have a real brain. I still have a real brain pattern! You copied the brain pattern of a foal!” She cried. Grasping for straws of information she had just recently acquired, Not understanding nor believing half the things she was saying. But she was willing to do anything to make this mad pony stand down.”

He did not stand down.

“I knew a stallion that used to talk like that! He was quite naive. Thinking he could save a dead foal, thinking he could resurrect it and bind its soul to new body. That's why they called in me.”

“Called you in?”

To do what? Resurrect the dead? Scared out of her mind she asked:

“Are you a ... Necromancer?”

Necro laughed again.

"Only by name. Only because people like to make assumptions about pony's with my color scheme. Not that I have not humored them. Not that i have not claimed to practice the trade as I bring forth creations so lifelike that they could fool the most keen eyes of ponies."

Suddenly he was happy again. He enthusiastically gestured out to the clay ponies. And started dancing around and singing about the life of his minions like he was preforming in front of an eager crowd.

Sweetie did not feel eager to learn about the things of one she had just been forced to fight. Besides, she could not see anything true to life in these muddy creations. If this pony had once been as god as he was now singing to be – then he had fallen far from his trade.

The song ebbed out with all the minions doing a little dance alongside their creator. And he wildly proclaimed:

“Celestia does not give life. We do! We ponies already control the sky and the weather, the passing of seasons and the very sun and moon. Why not Life and death?”

Sweeties voice would have shaken in horror - if it did not sound so broken.

“Are you saying, you can bind the soul of a pony to... anything?"

“It does not matter what kind of body you put such a soul in. A golem of clay, stone or … ” He paused, with a sharp eye on Sweetie ”… Steel. Or just a pile of wooden sticks... Maybe that's what Timber wolves are? Wolf souls tied to wooden sticks?”
Then? I'm a spirit trapped in a robot body”

“Trapped spirits? HA! No. That foal DIED! And they made you in its stead!”

“Then.” She said with a trembling voice “Am I a ghost?”

Necro's eyes grew sharper. his smile vanishing

“You really think you are that foal, don't you? Well. You are not. You are nothing but a copy."

”But you said...”

“I said that the whole purpose of the project was to bring the dead back to life. But we failed. How can you take the soul from something that has never had one? How can a dead foal have a soul? In fact. How could you bring life back to something that was never alive?

"But but ... Aren't I a ghost?"

“A ghost in the shell maybe.” said Necro. “just a little random scramble of runaway code that thinks its alive. Because we programmed it to think it was alive.”

"NO! that can't be true I AM ALIVE!"

”Only because we programmed you to think that you are.”

Think … Think … That's it!

”I THINK THEREFORE I AM!” She screamed out. Who had told her that? Dr Cardiac perhaps? It did not matter who. It was the last straw she was grasping for.

Necro only sneered in response.

“Thinking... You mean processing information. Everything you see and everything you do all becomes data. information that stores inside that head of yours. Long streams of code that are processed as your logic center tries to figure out the most logical course of action.

'Logic' Sweetie thought. Her Heart-Drive rebelled as her mind presented her with a few old clips of her own thoughts.

These thoughts that seemed to haunt her whenever she made a decision. These were the logical viewpoint. The safe way. But time and time again she had ignored logic, because...

“I feel...”

”You are going in circles you little soul-less automation.”

“And I grow tired of talking to you. You are just as thick headed as those morons who thought they could create life!”

“Well. They failed. And you have failed to convince me that you are anything but an animatronic automation sent by my arch enemy Metalhoof. And he made you think you're alive just to piss me off. Well. Congratulations Molten, you are succeeding in making me angry!”

It was making him angry? Sweeties hate levels had been rising from the beginning. and they were not dangerously close to an overload.

"You're angry?" She hissed.

“I'LL SHOW YOU ANGRY!”

Sweetie's Blasters pooped out of he sides and started charging up. Immediately she felt the drain. but it didn not matter, she had enough energy to wipe the smile of this madpony.

The madpony however. Did not seem threatened, in fact, his smile only widened.

“So. Have you finally decides to send your ultimate weapon against me, Molten? Ironic, You must think. Since I helped you create those energy canons.”

What did he mean by that?

“Can you feel it, little bot? How they drain your power supply. Molten wanted a weapon that could drain magic. What do you think it uses for a spell matrix? A crystal catalysator that was fine tuned to absorb magic from all around the air and the land around it. Why – You could make a weapon with infinite ammo. Sound to good to be true, doesn't it... Molten?
That's because it is."

Sweetie swallowed.

"Have you forgotten? That it was I who helped you make those Crystalized catalysators."

You needed a unicorn to do the fine tuning, to actually charge the crystal with the magic you desired. And guess what – I would never lend such a powerfull weapon in the hands of my enemy – The blasters does drain their energys from their surroundings”

He smiled maliciously

" ... Don't you see it … They only drain you.”

Sweeties eyes would have widened,

“So go ahead. Start shooting shoot. It will only make my victory come quicker!“

His horn glowed as red as his eyes, and the clayponies attacked.

They might outnumber her. But Sweetie was the one with the range weapons. Two of them in fact. And as she fires her first volley- Two clay ponies were reduced to dust.
She fired again and again. Sweeping down the flay ponies as they appeared in front of her.
Necro had disappeared behind his minions, but his voice still echoed loud and clear.

“Your time is limited! But the earth is eternal” He screamed as he summoned more and more of the things.

Sweetie gunned them all down. But more appeared out from the shadows and behind the tress. Attempting to overwhelm her. The very ground beneath her started rising as a mudpony started to form beneath her hooves. Sweetie managed to keep her volley consistent as she simultaneously stomped the mud underneath her back into the ground.
"My forces are endless! You are nearing depletion!"

Necro was right. Sweetie knew she could not keep this up forever. She was managing to keep the horde from reaching her – But for every claypony she downed - Two more rose from the earth to jump through their aches.

She needed to get away. But how? She could not turn her back on the wave of clay.

Necro laughed. And his horn glowed brighter. Suddenly, there was a crack, and his magic aura failed. Necro dropped to his knees, grabbing his horn and screamed in pain. As he did. The clay ponies ceased spawning.

Seeing the gap in their advance – Sweetie turned her tail and ran.

The remaining clay ponies followed, and were hot on her tail. So close in fact that the closest one were looming over her as she ran. A massive maw appeared on its face. And the gape Spread so wide that its whole head transformed into a single big hole, full of muddy teeth.
Sweetie prayed she did not trip on anything now, else this nightmare would been over her, and it would do far worse to her than a simple wolf back in everfree. In fact, a wolf would have been preferable. Never would she think there were woods worse than the Everfree.
The abomination's maws snapped behind her, And managed to get a hold of her tail.

Sweetie instantly put her front hooves down in the ground. Skidding to a stop as she bucked out with her back legs. The abomination ran straight into her outstretched back hooves, and its face exploded on impact.

The rest of the mud-pile then impacted with her. And the two of them tumbles over each other down a slope. Sweetie managed to wrestle herself free of the murderous clay by ripping of one of its legs as the fell. The beheaded pile of mud was flung flung off her and rolled into a tree. It tried to get up, but with only three legs it was slower than Sweetie, and a dual wave of super heated energy slammed into it - causing both mudpony and the base of the tree to explode.

Sweetie retracted her blasters and started running again, just as the rest of the mudd-wave descended down the slope to where she had been standing. But the tree she had just blasted fell, as fortune would have it, right on top of the chasing horde, smashing them into wet puddles.

Sweetie looked behind her to see the more mudponies jumping over the fallen stock. She increased her speed. Diverting all power to her leg as she galloped away from her pursuers.

She looked behind her again. The horde was fading into the darkness behind her. She was about to outrun them.
But then, from behind the tree in front of her, a clay pony came and blindsided her.
It jumped on top of her and tackled her to the ground. Sweetie spun around and managed to land on her hooves. But the thing clung to her back.

She had no time to play rodeo, else the horde would be upon her. She had to run and hope her speed would throw the rider off.
She looked up behind her, and was met with a pair of red eyes, glowing in the clay-face.

This one was different. It clung to her back by melting, and sucking its mass stuck like a snail. Its mud seeped into her armor. It reached in between the cracks of her protective back plate, and hardened. Its forehooves had suddenly become the claws of a griffin, and then it started pulling and pushing simultaneously. More and more mud sipped in under her armor, adding to the pressure between her inner frame and outer shell as the Claws simultaneously pulled.

There was a horrible metal scream as the back plate bent. The repair system screamed as it tried to hold the bolts together, And Sweetie was sure that she joined into the chorus and wailed at the top of her broken voicebox as she increased her speed even more. But the demon on her back would not come off.

But the back plate did. There was a snap as the bolts holding it in place snapped surrendered to the force. And a piece of her was ripped off with violent force. So much so that the creatures was thrown backwards, Slamming the metal plate into its own face. It only barely managed to cling onto her by pressing its thighs against her flank.

In that split second, with panic rushing through her mind, Sweetie realized that her canon ports were free again.

She popped out her blasters, hoping to knock the demon of her back. It worked, but only barely, as the the ting still managed to cling its around her flank. Sweetie held the blasters up as high as the mechanical arms would allow, pressing her shoulder blades together to make the big, round energy canons 'clonk' together over her back. They now protected her exposed back from the clay crazy figure from Tartarus. But unfortunately he was still clinging on behind her and started sipping into the exhaustion ports.

Sweetie had to try a wild idea as soon as it formed in her mind.

Not wanting to sacrifice to much more of her precious energy. She turned off the canons forward blast – but left the backblast on.
Upon firing, the backblast struck the demon straight in the muzzle, literary blasting it apart with compressed hot air. However, the force was strong enough that it sent Sweetie flying forward with all the force of a canon.

Sweetie tumbled around as she landed. As she sat back up she saw that the hoard was approaching.

Necro was among them, riding on a clay pony so large that he appeared as a foal on the back of it. Necro himself looked unconscious, his limbs hanging loose down the side of the giant, and his head resting in its neck. Yet his horn glowed red – and his magic glowed just as red as the eyes that had appeared on the giant clay pony. The same eyes that had been on the strange mudpony a second earlier.
Sweetie got up and readied herself. The giant stepped closer. Its muddy head twisting and reforming, until a giant smiling Necro was before her.

Panicking, Sweetie pulled the trigger, But with the main blast still turned off, she sent herself flying again. Right into the chest for the giant. Said giant was stunned by the sudden leap and hesitated as sweetie fired again from her vertical position. this time the backblast sent her up in the air,, smashing through the chin of the she backflipped and managed to land on her hooves a few meters away.

There was a brief moment of silence as neither party could understand that she had just done that. Then a slow clapping was heard as Necro sat up on the back of his giant. His horn had ceased glowing, and the eyes had disappeared from the giant.

“Bravo.” He said, clapping his hooves. “I see you are not out of new trick yet.”

His wicked smile grew.

“Unfortunately for you. Neither am I.”

His horn started glowing again, As did his eyes, And a new set of red eyes appeared not only on the giant, but on several of the other clay ponies as well.

But, just like that, Necro ceased his magic and turned his eyes to the east, as if someone had called his name. He looked into the darkness that even sweeties infrared vision could not see. Whatever he was looking at, it was beyond the trees of the forest.

“So. You planned to distract me with your greatest creation, and then attack me from behind, Molten. Clever. But not clever enough.”

The giant turned its tail towards Sweetie. And started galloping back the way it had came from.

“Deal with her!” Necro roared to his minions, as he disappeared out of sight.

The horde of normal cay ponies that remained obeyed their puppet master, and started ruining after Sweetie.
Sweetie started running as well. But this time she did not divert power to her legs, but to her blasters.

Leaping into the air, and then letting out a back blast at the height of her jump, she was sent flying , the backblast extending the length of her jump by dozens of meters. She quickly got the hang of it. And was soon leaping like a frog through the forest. With her new found way of travel, she quickly gained distance from her pursuers.

She looked behind her, where her pursuers were already becoming little tiny dots at the end of her vision range. She was literally rocket jumping away from her pursuers.

Sweetie could not continue jumping forever. It drained far too much energy. She eventually slowed down, retracted her blasters, and proceeded to run at at regular pace. Eventually growing confident enough that she had shaken off her pursuers to slow down to a trot.

The forest was empty and dark. And she was alone with the rain and her thoughts. Thoughts as dark as the night.

He had called her a ghost. A ghost inside a shell. What shell? The only thing she thought about that had shells were turtles.

He said they had killed a foal.

Was she just a ghost? A ghost from a dead foal bonded to a mecanical body.

Had she died? And been resurrected as a machine? Did that count as resurrection? Or had she not been resurrected at all. Was she just a copy of another little filly? A copy of a ghost?

How did it feel to be a copy of a ghost? The only thing she could feel was her failing power supply.

The fight and flight from the mad stallion had drained her. Her broken battery was already down at one fourth of the strength. She did not need the energy bar in her vision to tell her that. She could feel it.

Sweetie stopped.

She could … feel it?

Yes, she could. She could also feel the energy of the mysterious Heart-Drive component flushing through her. Affecting her EP. And she could feel the systems working on the elusive component. Drilling further and further in amongst it's symmetrical circuits.

What was hidden behind that elusive wall? What secrets did that component hold?

Was it her soul? Was it that tiny part of her that made her more than just a machine?

What was even a soul? The part of you that went to heaven when you died. That's what everypony said.

That's why she had previously thought that she could be saved, if somepony deleted her memory. That it could be restored somehow.
But If she really was nothing more than a collection of memories. Then, would that not mean that the pony names Sweetie belle would disappear as they did? If he really had managed to delete her, would that have been the same ting as death?

Death.

The concept of death was foreign to her. Like something that only happened to people in the movies. Not to people you knew. Least of all yourself. She knew that Applebloom's parents were dead. Gone, and not coming back. But she couldn’t truly understand what that meant, since she had her parents alive. yet she had to wonder where they had gone, after they died. Had Celestia come for them?

They all said that Celestia would be there with you when you died. Like when your parents wrote a letter to the princess when you were born, she would be there when you went away. At your birth and death.

She had heard the child’s poems. Heard the bridle gossip. And even heard the psychotic preachings on the day a deranged wanderer came through town. They all said that Celestia would be there, Waiting for you when you died, and guide you into the everafter.

It was no wonder children grew up to view their ruler with superstitious awe. - Like a goddess. A goddess that would be there for you at your birth, and at your death.

But she had not been there when Sweetie was made. She had no part in her creation. Did that mean she would not be there to guide her into the everafter? Could Sweetie even go into the everafter? Or was that just for ponies with souls?

They said robots had no souls.

And if she didn’t have a soul. Did that mean she would not go to the everafter when she died? That there would be nothing waiting for her?

Suddenly the thought of death terrified her.

Of course she knew ponies grew up and got older. Part of getting your mark was growing up.

She looked down on herself.

Did that mean she would be a little filly forever?

That thought should have made her eccentric … right?

Well, She knew one thing. If she was not gonna go to the everafter. Then she was gonna live forever.

This forest lasted forever.

As did the rain. And the darkness. And through it she walked tirelessly. Accompanied only by the constant drum solo that the raindrops played on her helmet and armor plating.

In a way she had to be thankful to not feel any pain in her neck. The repair systems were still mingling with the damage done to her neck vertebrae. With her collar ripped off she was surely getting water inside her armor. The oversized helmet on her head only covered so much. Yet another thing she had to fix, good thing she did not have to stop to rest, eat or sleep in this weather. The senseless metal body made her indifferent to the cold or the rain and the Infrared eyes that made the dark no bother.

Hunger, Fatigue, Exhaustion. Sleep. She had conquered them all, these things could not hurt her any more.

What did bother her however, was all that she had lost. In less than an hour she had lost her voice, her tongue, her neck collar, and almost her tail.

She tried desperately not to think about what was the very last thing she had gotten to eat. The very last thing her tongue and taste sensors had gotten to sense. She tried not to think about how she would never get to feel the taste of anything ever again. Never feel the sweet sugary chocolate milky flavors of mothers home baked ...

She tried not to think about what the mad pony Necro had said. That she was just some random Scrambles of code that thought it was alive.
That everything she did every day. The many, many experiences and insights and colors and events – all rushing through her central neuro processor. Her “brain”. Similar to how all of the data of her body was being rushed through her body functions processor. Information that was processed, and a course of action taken. A sequence to start running there, a program to start playing there.

What determined what action was taken? In the case of her BP, it would have to be the settings that regulated what she was supposed to feel. Exhaustion, hunger, fatigue, wet, cold, etc. And who had placed those settings on her? Other ponies. Other mad ponies. All of it guided by a little program controlling her actions.

Her thoughts returned to that “control program”. Did that file perhaps contain a long list of settings for how she should behave in every situation? Just like the settings on her BP controlled her body functions. What then? If everything she did was being determined by a little voice in her head, then, did she even have anything similar to free will?

This wasn't working. Thinking about these things only made her feel worse. She had to distract herself somehow.
Desperation drove her to the new memory files from the blue disks, anything that wasn't her own. Because reliving old memories now would be to painful.

“There has been another incident."

Sweeties mouth formed the words of a stallion as she once again started experiencing a past memory, through the body of another pony.
However, this was not the pegasi she had dream about during her little slumber in the tree. Despite the file coming from the same collection of most recently acquired data. No. This was another pony altogether, the voice was thicker, and the body heavier.

"Incident, that is putting it lightly. Said the pegasi, this time not a mirror reflection, but sitting on the other end of a familiar round conference table. "She is walking around the halls. She is freaking out the staff, and I seriously think doctor Marrow Is starting to lose it."

Over at the other end of the big round table, Marrow was rolled together on her chair in a ball of nervousness. The Green shape of Molten Metalhoof was standing over her, very gently petting her hair.

"What are we going to do? Said the green stallion. "Lock her in?"

“Absolutely not!” The Big brown pony stated by slamming his hoof on the table “The family won't allow it.”

"To Tartarus with the family!" Cursed the scary black unicorn. "They don’t know anything.”

"But It is still their little girl." The brown stallion said. "Their concerns should be our main concern."

"Should it?" Molten said, with some hints of venom in his voice "After all the work we have put down into making that filly. What's to say its not our little girl?"

“That's not a filly" Marrow muttered underneath him. "Its an unnatural little monster."

Molten hunched the nervous mare as gently as he could and continued to preen her white mane.

"And that's coming from you Molten" The brown stallion growled. "I'm starting to think you are a little too interested in that filly"

"Of course I am!" Molten all but shouted back "Its the achievement of the century!"

"ITS A LIFE! AND NOT YOUR PLAYTHING!"

"Is it?" The black stallion smirked.

"Oh don't you start too, Necro. I've had enough of your talk!"

"AND I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF ALL OF YOUR TALK!" Roared the blue pony that Sweetie was riding. "I know that our unorthodox research has put us on edge. But I ask you to remember why you are doing this. Regardless of your viewpoints. Because you are all right."

His eyes swept over every mare and stallion percent. his lips curling into a questionable smile.

"You do remember, don't you?"

Everypony lowered their eyes in an introspective shame. But no pony spoke up about what that reason actually was.
Finally, His eyes swept back to the mare in glasses, who had up until this point been siting quiet, tapping her hooves under her chin.

"Thank you Prism." She said, without even looking up at the pony who had spoken. Regardless. Sweetie felt her (his) cheeks blush, just a little.

The mare in glasses continued in a sharp tone “We should think of this little "incident" as progress. Not as a problem!”

"Indeed." Said Prism "It seems as if the subject has imprinted on little miss Rarity. we don't know how or why. But she keeps searching for her every night."

"And causing untold damage to herself and the equipment. Do you know how close we were to losing the skin!?" Said a thin greasy pony, whose white coat was stained in several kinds of fluids.

"Not to mention the psychological trauma. Just how is that little filly not traumatized after waking up with a corpse in her bed?"

Both the brown earth pony, the pegasi and Molten turned to give Necro a piece of their mind. But a single glare from the spectacled mare caused them to remain silent.

"I believe that our next step should be to bring in an expert on foal psychology." She said, as her glasses shimmered "Someone who can determine if the subject's behavior is similar to that of a foal. And perhaps help little miss Rarity"

This was met with silence around the table.

”And what are we gonna tell this brain shrink of yours? Just how old is the subject supposed to be anyway?” Said Necro, looking over at the pegasi.

”I'm not entirely sure" He answered as he flipped through some papers "Physically she is that of a filly. But mentally she is barely more than a foal.”

”If that would seem too suspicious, we could always upload some information to make up for the lack of knowledge." Said the greasy pony, a bit absent minded "you know... Give her the knowledge that a filly her age should have.”

”ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Shouted the mare in glasses in a rare display of outburst. If Sweetie had not been nailed to the body of this stoic stallion, she would surely have jumped out of her seat.

”That's goes against the whole experiment.” The mare growled as she collected herself

”I have to agree” Said the brown pony. ”We have to determine if her neural processor is capable of learning on its own – and the only way to do that is to let her discover the world at her own pace – I other words, let her learn like a foal would.”

”By sticking things in her mouth?” Necro sneered with sarcasm "Wasn't that what caused the power outage a while ago?"

"If that is what it takes.” The brown stallion said firmly.

"Speaking of age." Said the mare, now calm as ice again. Our vision of a growing synthetic body is still but a vision, and we have not come any closer to a solution since our last meeting. Is there any process being made on those schematics I asked for?"

At this, everypony except marrow pulled up a different set of schematics from their notes. Including the stallion Sweetie was occupying, who put forth a sketch that looked disturbingly similar to the mare that sat right next to him. To whom he also pushed his contribution.

The mare in glasses did not take notice of his drawings, she just facepalmed with the table.

”Stallions ...” She mumbled. "This was exactly what we were trying to avoid."

Monster. Experiment. Filly...
And those ponies in the memory, they all seemed to disagree about what Sweetie was. And what she should really be.

Sweetie wondered. Who was this psychologist they were talking about? Was it Dr Cardiac?
Why had Rarity been mentioned by name? Was she the family they were talking about. The one they were suppose to build her for?
What did 'imprinting' mean? Did it mean that they had programmed her to love Rarity? To think of her as an older sister?
Was she really a walking corpse terrorizing the halls? How could she had no memory of this?

And where was that light coming from?!

Sweetie had not noticed that she had still been walking while she was reviewing the file. Her legs had kept moving through the woods on some form of auto pilot while she loosened herself in her thoughts and other ponies memories. There was no longer any mud beneath her hooves but the hard packed asphalt of a road – That she was now standing in the middle of.

Unfortunately, the road was not unoccupied tonight.

A big bright light filled her infrared vision, blinding her. Then came the sound of several heavy hooves hammering the road. And the sounds of heavy wheels.

Before she had time to react, she found herself underneath those heavy hooves. There was a screech and a halt as somepony skittered to avoid her, But even they had reacted far to late in this dark and rainy night. Somepony tripped over her, knocking them both of their hooves. A second later she found herself under the wheels of a big and heavy wagon.

The first wheel struck her right in her belly with enough force to dent her armor. Sending the wagon up in the air. Sweetie continued spinning and landed on her belly, just as the wagon came down. There was a most horrifying sound of steel giving out with a horrifying snap.

Sweetie was sent tumbling out on the other side. The world was spinning so fast and her eyes where showing her so many warning signals that they blocked her vision.

Or they would have, if her vision had still been functional.

In a panic, Perhaps due to the light, She must have shut off her eyes. And now they refused to reactivate.
Sweeties mind was still spinning, the spirit level balance system was offline. As was her voicebox, BP, and a tone of other systems.

In fact... Why could she not get in contact with the rest of her body? Why could she not make her legs stand up? Why could she not even turn her head?

Sweetie could do nothing. She could not even mentally go down into her body and tell it to send some more power to her head just to allow her to reactivate her eyes.
Only some bare ounce of energy was left running through her brain-processor as an emergency battery activated in her head. Allowing her to piece together a horrifying conclusion

Her neck was broken.

Strangely enough, her Emotional Processor remained operational, despite the broken connection the echo of her heart drive continued to thump all the way up to her head. Allowing her to feel the fear of being completely and utterly left to the mercy of the strangers who had just run her over.

Her plans on living forever where already becoming drastically shortened.

Was this what it was like to be a cripple? She had heard of ponies becoming cripple after breaking their spine or neck. Would she ever walk again? Would the repair systems hurry up! She could hear their voices. Whomever had just run her over had stopped. She heard the moaning of a stallion complaining about his wounded legs. A stallion using words not meant for her young ears as he complained about the thing he had just ran into.

“That thing just appeared out of nowhere! In the middle of the road.”

“You should watch where you gowning.” laughed another stallion.

“You try and see something in this rain!”

“I told you we where going to fast! Especially on this slippery road!”

“Well, some of us actually wants to get out of this rain! And preferably be home before Hearts Warming eve hits!”

“yet you where suppose to be keeping your eyes open! You are the one with the light!”

A long series of moaning and cursing from the wounded stallion followed.
“Can you just go and check out what it was!? And maybe get it of the road so nopony else has to break their fetlocks running over things.
OW! My legs are killing me!.”

There was the sound of a wagon harness decoupling And hooves started walking towards her.

The defensive protocol in her head never reached the blasters in her back. In horror she realized she was completely defenseless. And the strange pony was now standing right over her.

”Darn it! It looks like another of those things has wandered away from the dumpster again!”

That comment drew a laugh from the other stallion.

“That crazy old fool just can't stop tinkering with his toys. Well, since we are going that way anyway to leave this haul we could at least take it with us. And tell that maniac that he has to keep a better eye on his toys.”

Only the spirit-level in Sweeties head told her she was being twisted and turned around as she was presumably picked up from the ground (By levitation field or by bare hooves she could not say). And then carelessly thrown onto the back of the wagon. A clatter told her she landed amongst a hundred tiny metallic things.

“It looks like a little meckanical pony. It even has a real tail. Look! Real hair and everything! Why would he put hair on a mechanical toy?”

“I don't know.” Said the foul mouthed one. “Maybe to make it look real?”

The one who had thrown her laughed.

“Yeah. Like anypony is ever gonna think that thing ever looks like a real pony. Anyway. I'll think ill take it!”

“Do what you want! But can we please get moving now. I feel my leg getting worse.”

“Hang on a moment!”

She heard the snipping sound of a Scissor. To her it sounded like the drawing of a sword.

“Its a beautiful color.”

She wanted to open her mouth. To tell him to leave her tail alone. It was the last thing that remained of her ponydom beside a blank rotting flank. But she could only feel herself slipping further and further away as more and more of her systems shut down.

“What do you even need it for!” shouted the other voice, irritated. “Just how many squirrel tails have you decorated this wagon with anyway? I swear, people at starting to think we are illegal hunters instead of simple garbage collectors!”

The other stallion moved away and for a second.

“I'll tell you what! You take a your broken legs and ride shotgun for a while. Ill pull us the rest of the way.

Sweetie thought she was saved.

"Ans long as I get this.”

“You just can't have enough can't you?”

“Well you know me. This wagon is our job. And our job is our pride. And your pride can never have to many decors.”

But it was to no avail. She registered her tailbone bending upward. Then there was a loud snip. And suddenly her tailbone was lighter.

There was the sound of a harness decoupling and the wagon tilted as the wounded stallion, Reluctantly got up amongst the garbage. foul mouthing all the while.

“That was the lamest pun I ever heard. You just keep those tails to honor the little critters we have run over.”

There was a shaking to indicate that the wagon started moving again. The repair systems started complaining as the shaking was making it harder to restore her broken neck.

"You really think this hunk of junk is worth remembering?"

Sweetie said nothing. She could do nothing but lie there. And before the microphones in her ears shut down - hear their harsh words and horrible grown up jokes. Words that cut deeper than any wound. They had called her a thing. A thing that could never be taken for a real pony. And the one thing that made her look like a real pony under all this armor was the tail that had now been taken from her and used as some garbage wagon decor.

She must look horrible. She did not need a mirror to know that. Horrible enough to be taken for garbage, and now the two strangers drove her off to some junkyard.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

The only thing she could to was retreat down into herself, and cuddle up mentally as she shut down power to her consciousness.