//------------------------------// // Chapter 24. Hobo Bobo // Story: Sweetie Bot - A Heart's Warming Tale // by Grimweird //------------------------------// Round and around Sweetie's world spun. She swirled around till she lost all orientation. The current was strong enough to carry her away. To prevent her from sinking. And even if she sunk to the bottom, she continue to roll ahead. Sweetie made no attempts to stop it. Her body was at the mercy of the river. Not because she was broken. But because she did not feel like going anywhere right now. To be anywhere else right now. She had shut down all her exterior systems. Her Blasters had retracted into her back. and she had curled up into a fetal position. Her legs locked in a position that hugged her little body close. She had even shut down her eyes and ears. She had shut out the river around her, and the world outside it. She did not want to be part of that world any more. She did not want to be part of a world where everypony hated her. Where the threat of having once memories removed existed, even from her own family. A family she did not dare to go back to as long as such a threat existed. The spirit -level in her head told her she was still spinning around. It was the one proof that she was still rolling around in the river. That she had not been captured by either side. That she was not about to be dragged away and have her memory wiped. To have her components ripped out of her and replaced. She might hate this body shed been cursed to. But it was still her body. And no pony was gonna tell her what to do with it. So she let the strong current carry her away. Before anypony could utter that secret phrase that would activate her control program and turn her into an obedient slave. Another threat to her own self, to what free will existed between these interchanging programs that formed up her mind. A threat that seemed like a far greater threat than the sharp rocks along the roaring river. A threat that would be able to do far more harm to her than any shrapnel or jagged rocks could cause. Broken parts could be repaired. She knew that now. But a memory deleted was a memory gone ... forever. Perhaps this was for the best. To just let the river carry her away. Perhaps the stream would lead into an ocean. Where she would presumably sink to the bottom, and get stuck. Buried in mire while the last of her energy reserves slowly drained, and she become a statue in the garden of fishes - never to bee seen again. Unless Discord came around one day... Then she would tell him all about how it was to be stuck like a statue for a thousand years. If she did not rust first. Or any angry sharks tore her to pieces. -::No! // Do not want!::- Her over-imagine imagination woke her from the apathetic depths. What point would there be in escaping the clutches of her family if she was going to choose destruction by slow deterioration? Her emotional processor and her logic center had a brief fight. Her emotional side not wanting to continue living if she had no family. But the apathy and pointlessness of a loveless existence had left her heart drive weak and uncooperative, So her self preservation programs proved victorious. and the thought of ending up at the bottom of the ocean proved much too frightening. -:: Rebooting systems // !!WARNING!! // Energy readings unstable // Energy dispersion units unstable // Servos leakage detected // Isolation rubber - Nonexistent. // !!WARNING!! // Insulation module - Nonexistent // Water damage detected. // !!WARNING!! // Repair system unresponsive. // Buffer unresponsive // !!WARNING!! !!WARNING!! !!WARNING!!... ::- As soon as Sweetie reactivated her body. Everything went haywire. She was taking in water. Her rubber seals had been transmuted away, and the water interfered with her internal systems. Proving an ever conductive liquid - It made the electricity jumped between her circuity crystals and her exposed wires, And between her cords and her cybernetic components Causing distortions and signal interference all over her body. Just de-tangling her limbs from her torso proved a challenge. And to swim proved a nightmare. Her entire body spazed out, Her legs flailed around. her ears flapped and even her eyes twitched. Turning off and on as sporadic as the rest of her. The only thing that made her somewhat able to see was the lack of any eyelids to get in her way. Her blinking eyes could see only water and the derbies she swirled around with. Leaves and branches and garbage and soda cans. To bigger things like planks and logs and splinter. -:: Deja vu ::- It must be the remains of the bridge. Even if she hadn't exactly cared about what material the underside of that bridge was constructed of, She got plenty of opportunities to see it up close now that it fought with her for space. Derbies slammed into her and knocked her of course. Not that she knew where she was going anyway. Or made much progress getting anywhere. The harder she tried to push in one direction the more interference she received. Her limbs wanted to bend in several different directions at once. And her eyes spinning around in their sockets did not make this roller coaster any easier to navigate. Her flailing did put a stop to her spinning, allowing her some semblance of orientation. she thought she was the bottom, and tried to go in the opposite direction. But The harder she struggled the more severe the spasm became. She had to try the opposite tactic. She shut down most of her body and only focused on controlling one limb at a time. And sent her energy only through her foreleg. Carefully to keep the energy inside the circuits and only just enough as to do the most basic function of garbing onto the log floating beside her. It almost didn't work since the command inputs became scrambled in the water. Controlling the energy flow was like trying to hold onto grease. Constantly slippery and threatening to sip out to other systems through the water. Even her best efforts still left the leg shaking in spasms, almost beyond control. But she managed to do it. When her fetlock seized around the log she immediately locked her pistons in position and shut down the limb. And she repeated the process with her other limbs. With a grip around the log she got some semblance of a foundation of up and down. Her spinning spirit-leveler stopped and she began the slow and bothersome climb through the water on the debris. Somehow she managed to break the water surface. She tried to call for help but her voicebox was playing tricks on her and only gave out a static stuttering. It was the river run with Jr Branch all over again. Except this time she had only herself to save. And that was a hundred times more difficult with a body that would not cooperate. And there would be no pony to save her. The canyon had fanned out. The river was no longer surrounded by steep, rocky walls as tall as buildings. But by bare and slated dunes. The river had also gotten wider and somewhat calmer. The shore seemed so close now. But Swimming there was out of the question. The current was still to strong. And preforming more than one action at ones (even just trying to move two limbs at once) was enough to make hes spasm out uncontrollably. She did not know if she would be able to multitask such fine control of her energy for more than one limb. Besides - the armor was to heavy to swim in. She would only sink like a rock. But maybe - She could paddle her way there? Clinging onto the log, she reached out only one spasming limb to paddle herself into shore. But The river was not done playing tricks. A bridge appeared ahead of her. A big red bridge, built upon several pillars off rock holding up its length across the wide river. Her improvised raft slammed right into one of those pillars, crunching her leg in the sandwich of rock and wood, and sent her tumbling out of control. By the time she regained her bearings, she was back in the water and sinking again. As she hit the bottom. She noticed the river was not carrying her forward with the same momentum as before. And since she was not tumbling around, she was able to get her legs under her. Using only the barest of minimum of energy. She managed to push herself forward using only one hoof. Like this. She would be able to pull herself through the water and onto the shore. Maybe she could reach one of those pillars and climb up? Provided they were not too sleek. Provided she did not loose the momentum of the river. Provided her energy did not run out first. -:: Silly Sweetie. Why didn't you think of this before? ::- Then, suddenly, something wide and plaid towards her came. Or rather - She came to it. Trying to brace herself for impact only made her spasm out again. And she found herself pressed up against a net of some kind. Her twitching eyes notices the pillars of rock to her sides. She must still be under the bridge. She had not Idea what a net would be doing here. But at least it had saved her from being thrown out into the ocean. Moving only one limb at once. She slowly started to pull her twitching, uncooperative body up towards the surface. But her climbing got an unexpected aid, as the bottom part of the net was suddenly hauled upwards. The whole thing was folded around her like a sack, and she was hauled onto shore. *** It took several minutes for her systems to stop interfering with each other. Sweetie had to carefully shut down every system and then restarted them one by one until she was able to come too. The first thing that hit Sweeties rebooting ears was the sound of the river. Just barely audibly over the sound of static plaguing her moist microphones. It was close by - yet distant enough for her not to be lying amongst its waves. That was good - Being out of the water was really good. It had made her feel funny to say the least. Anny longer in it and she might have short circuit completely. There was also the sparkling sound of a fire somewhere nearby. And a fire was the first thing that greeted her visual lenses as she rebooted them. A magical fire that shifted colors from all over the rainbow, and even sometimes went black and white. No. Wait. That wasn't the fire. that was her damp visual lenses going in and out of focus. She had expected to find a plaid net covered her vision. Not to be greeted by a small campfire. Should the fire have scared her? She did not know. Her emotional processor did not pick up any trauma induced phobia coming from her heart drive. Fear was something it no longer had the strength to produce. And now that she was free of the harmful water, this little campfire didn't seem scary at all. Sweetie lay on her side, the water still pouting out of her armor. And just stared into the dancing flames. A random memory was triggered - Of hearts warming eves of winters past, with the whole family gathered around the fireplace. Back in happier times. Before her world fell apart. It seemed she would be missing out on hearts warming eve this year. The thought did not make her feel particular angry, or sad. Just ... empty. And that emptiness weighed down on her. Made her just want to lay there and not do anything. The memories continued to pass before her until she got to her most recent event. It was a hazy collection of fragments, as distorted as her systems had been. She remembered her fight in the river. Then a log. A bridge. Then a net. And now this. What happened in between? How did she get here? Bad her mind been so full of water that she'd been unable not store additional memories? She didn't seem to have shut down. Not entirely. She could remember her visual lenses becoming so full of static that she had to shut them off. The colors was beginning to come in clearer as her visual lenses dried up. But there was still some static left. The fire now 'only' danced in shades of red and blue. And a figure appeared to be standing over her. Was he really there? Or was she hallucinating? "Now ... Lets see how you are coming to". Her microphones picking up the sound of a voice. Was it male of female? It seemed a little to deep to be female. But it was hard to tell with a tinnitus like an audio feedback. -:: Processing ... Processing ... ::- -:: Somepony was standing over her // Somepony who must have taken her out of the net while she was rebooting ::- -:: Somepony she did not know ::- -:: STRANGER DANGER // STRANGER DANGER ::- Energy shot out into her limbs as instinct took over. Since her legs where no longer restrained by a net, they complied with her emergency sequence. The Master Blasters came out as she jumped up into standing position. and locked onto her target, ready to fight for her life. The shadow recoiled. It was some kind of pony, but the figure was so hazy it was hard to tell. Her targeting systems refused to lock on properly. Like the pony wasn't even there Was it a shadow pony? A ghost pony. Or the grim reaper coming to harvest her? No. It was just her systems playing tricks on her. Her infrared vision would not activate. Her blasters did not charge up properly. "Easy now." Said the shadow. "You should not push yourself too hard little miss. You only just came too." What did he call her? "Stay ... Stay back" Sweetie warned. Water falling from her mouth as her yaw flapped around, without any connection to the words being spoken. Celestia - Had her voice always sounded this bad? Or was it just the static in her ears? "Okay little one. We'll take it slow. Why don't we sit down and dry ourselves off?" -:: Control program awaiting verbal command ::- -:: No - You're not the boss of me ::- Sweetie tried to walk away. But ended up falling face first into the ground as her legs tried to go in opposite directions. “Maybe you should just stay and rest a little.” “I don't need to rest.” “That doesn't mean you shouldn't stay and dry yourself a little. No need to be running of when you run the risk of collapsing.” As much as she hated to admit it he was right. Her insides were still damp. Her systems still playing tricks on her. She needed to dry up or she was probably gonna start to rust from the inside out. She pulled herself up against a concrete wall of some kind, And laid down, her blasters almost sinking to the floor beside her, still inactive. She decided it was best to let her systems run on minimum capacity to lower the chance of a short circuit. It was probably fitting. For regardless of how much energy was left in her battery, she felt like If she still had a biological shell, she would have been exhausted past death three times over. The stranger moved to sit with his back towards the river, And started tending to his broken net. Between them was the fireplace with quite a large fire burning. It was relatively wind-still so it held no threat of going out. Yet it was not the only source of illumination, Sweetie noticed, as her vision began to come too. Around the fireplace, several touches had been set up. Lighting up the little campsite in an orange glow. a glow that was intensified by the grains of sand that covered the area. Like an orange beach of dry sand. Dry - since no rain had fallen upon it. Sweetie had sunk down against the supporting pillar that formed their rooms only wall. Above them, the red bridge stretched out across the dark river past a rock formation that held up its center, and beyond. Lanterns were hanging down from the roof that was the bridge above them. Suspended by a rope that went around the supporting beams and down into a hook in the ground. There were one row of lanterns on each side of the bridge, running down its length at regular intervals. There was a rope bridge leading out to- and around the central pillar, where even more ropes were tied into hooks hammered into the rock. If Sweetie had to guess, this stallion probably reeled the lanterns down every time he lit them. Maybe it was his job or something? A look around the place revealed his workplace. He had a makeshift tent sett up against the wall she was now occupying. Inside she could see a couple of dirty blankets. He also had a small wagon on which every wheel looked like it came from a different vehicle. Whatever was loaded onto the cart was covered by a plastic sheet. And behind it was a large pile of junk behind the tent. A little to organized to just having been dumped there at random. "Do you want a blanket? " The stranger said. "It can get awfully cold this time of year." "I ... I don't feel cold" Sweetie stuttered. "A towel then, perhaps? You are still soaking wet. It could help you dry up a little faster." He was not kidding. The sand beneath Sweetie was already getting dark and moist like clay. Water was still tripping from her undersides. The stranger was kind enough to give her a towel. An old green blanket that she wrapped around her. She retracted her blasters and, after wiping herself dry, she moved a little closer to the fire. The stranger returned to his tiny stool. And resumed tendering his fishing net. At least she guessed it was for caching fish. What else was if for? Celestia - Was she always this slow? - Or was her brain still moist? She reached up to remove the helmet, so her head could dry a little faster. But her hoof found itself grabbing for nothing. -:: Gone ... ::- She must have lost it to the river. But the feeling of loss would not appear. Or perhaps it was buried under all the other layers of loss. Either way she did not even pull a metaphorical sigh for her helmet. She just brought the blanket over her head and started scrubbing her scalp dry. That's when she found that her mane of copper saw till somehow attached to her. Hanging like a ponytail from the socket screwed into her neck. The wires became quite frizzled up by her whipping. But she did not care. Sweetie pulled the blanket closer around her. For some reason it felt like the right thing to do. Maybe because it shielded her hideous appearance from the rest of the world. From this stranger in front of her. Not that he seemed all that interested her anyway. He seemed far more interested in tending to his net than her. Of course - she was only a walking talking machine - what was so special about that? And what was so special abut that net? -:: Ponies don't eat fish ::- “Why the net?” She asked. "To catch things drifting in the river." He answered. "That way you don't have to go scavenging every day. And I'm making my part keeping this great nation clean." So she had him to thank for not ending being swept out to the ocean. And it explained the organized pile of junk. It must be all the stuff he had pulled out of the river using his net. Sweetie could Not believe somepony could litter Equestria so much. "You won't believe what people trow away." He continued "Even though there are filters set up to catch the trash that drunkards drop in the river, there is always something that slip through the cracks into the smaller rivers. Meaning there is always some good stuff you can pull up and trade for.” -:: “Good stuff?" ::- “Then why did you catch me?” Sweetie asked. Did he plan on selling her on a traders exchange or something? She had no desire to be sold on a hobos traders exchange. And who would by her anyway? And why? What was she good for - Other than as a punching bag? Maybe some traveling circus would show up. She could - Unfortunately - picture herself as a freak-show carnival attraction. “Pay one bit to toss the ball at the bot." Said her imaginary circus owner. "Hit the target to make her fall into the water – She spasms so funny when she does. Pay two bits to beat the bot like a pinata. There might be candy inside. Not a soul though. It has no soul.” “You should have let me wash away.“ “Why?” “I'm worthless. I'm nothing to have.” “What makes you say that?” “Look at me! I'm awful and broken and dirty. I don't have a straw left on my body!" “Do you judge me by my looks?” He asked with a smile. Sweetie didn't know how to answer that. -:: Judging appearance // Scanning …. scanning... ::- He was a dark brown earth pony with darker, almost black hooves. Though the blackness could have been dirt, even oil of some kind, judging by the scrap he had acquired. An orange, tousled and unkempt mane stuck out from under a rugged cap, And a short tail of equal color and mess stuck out from one of many holes in a coat that was so dirty she could not tell if brown was its original color or just the dirt stuck to it. Several orange straws also covered his unshaven face with a short beard as Tousled and ragged as the rest of him. Sweetie had no idea so short hair could be so tousled. He probably never combed, just cut it of by knife when it became to troublesome. At that moment she was actually glad she did not have any hair – she dreaded how that would look by now. The pieces all fell into place. The old tent, was his home. And the mismatched wagon must contain his entire belongings. And the big dumpster pile was probably junk he scavenged through every day. “You are a hobo.” She said matter-of-factly. “Well, I see you can tell a lot from my appearance.” He said with a chuckle. Exposing a smile that surprisingly did not host the worst teeth Sweetie had ever seen. That prize still went to the Doctor of pain. “What about yourself little miss? The hobo asked "You look like you have been through Tartarus and back.” -:: You have no idea ::- "I'm surprised you don't think I'm from Tartarus." "Sounds like quite the story there." The stallion said with some concern. "Do you ... Want to talk about it?" "No." "Are you just gonna sit there and sulk?" "Yes" "Well, Aren't you the cheeriest little ray of sunshine." He said. The Irony was not appreciated. "Do you have a name, little miss?" Sweetie almost wanted to say no. "S... Sweetie. just Sweetie." "Well... That's good enough." "But what about your name?" Sweetie asked. "You can call me Hobo Bobo, like all of my friends do." A giggle actually escaped Sweeties static voice as she said the name out loud. Hobo bobo. It sounded like "Hobobobobo" when she tried to say it on her stuttering voicebox. ”Was that a laugh?" Bobo smiled "There's hope everypony – there's hope!” ”Not for me". Said Sweetie. ”I'm worthless. I'm not a good toy. I'm not even a good deathbot." "Deathbot?” He said, more with surprise than with concern. “Do you want to harm others?” “No. I just want others to leave me alone.” ”About that. Do you always greet strangers with a weapon to their face?” Sweetie jerked her shoulders. “I just thought that... if I cant teach the world to love me ill teach it to fear me instead.” “Do you want to be feared?” Bobo asked. “It doesn't matter what I want. Every pony hates me regardless. ” “I don't hate you.” Sweetie gave him a blank stare. How was she suppose to believe that? How was she to know he would not descend on her given the chance. The only reason she stayed here was because she needed to dry up. “Would you have shot me?” He asked. Sweetie did not know. But she did not think so. Coming to think about it she had never been able to “pull the trigger” and fire her weapons on another pony. Something had stopped her every time. Not even Necro, Or the Mad Marrow, who had both tried to kill her, had she been able to putt down. Despite having a clear line of sight, and plenty of opportunities. Why? Why could she not pull the trigger on another pony? Was it some other kind of restriction that forbade her to harm another? Some part of her programming that forced her to be a good little filly? Sweetie would have let out a long sigh. She could only feel pathetic. She was not a real filly. She was even worse as a sister. And on top off all she was a bad robot. She could not be a toy. She was worthless as a deathbot that couldn't shoot at another even in self defense. She could not even a waitress at a robot run restaurant. On top of that, she had a broken system that refused to accept that she was a robot, and the inner conflicts threatened to drive her mad. Nothing beside the river and the fire made a noise as Sweetie sank deeper into her sulk. Completely forgetting about the stallions question. Until he, himself broke the silence. “If We are no longer talking about the exterior. Why do you think you are useless?” “I cant defend myself." Sweetie answered "I can't shoot at anypony. Not even In self defense.” “It sounds like you got a consciousness.” “Consciousness? Don't you have to be conscious yo have a consciousness?” Hobo Bobo laughed. “You are awake are you not? That means you are conscious ” He raised his hooves defensively when Sweetie did not share in his laughter "Bad joke, I know." He said. "So, Lets get serious again. If that's what you relay want. Mind telling me why you are really armed?" “Because I don't want people to hurt me.” She said. “Lately people have done nothing but hurt me. I figured if I threatened to hurt them, then they would stop. But I couldn't. I have... Restrictions that prevents me from doing things like that.” “We all have our restraint's that prevent us from doing horrible things.” He sighed, and looked down into the dirt. “Mine prevents me from going back to where I came from.” “I have nothing to go back to” said Sweetie. “what makes you say that. You must have come from somewhere. So there must be a road behind you, leading back.” “Not for me... I burned that bridge.” They both looked upstream. None said anything. But presumably they thought the same thing. Finally Hobo Bobo took the word. “Even if you burn a bridge or two the place from which you came still remains. If you just retrace your steps you will find your way back.” “I don't know where I come from. I don't know where I was made.” Sweetie said. “Then tell me where you have been. You cant tell me you have been roaming the countryside all your life.” The stallions sincerity was a bit off putting to Sweetie. He clearly wanted to share stories. The way he tried to get sweetie to talk, (even if it was just a few words he fished out of her.) And was trying to make her question him about his origins. Sweetie could not blame him. Having no-pony or no-thing else to talk to must make one eager to talk to pass the time. Thou she didn't know why she started telling her story. “I come from a little town named Ponyville. And .. While I lived there I thought I was a little filly. But it was a lie. Then everypony else found out it was a lie. That I had … machine parts underneath my skin instead of organs. Oil and wires instead of flesh and blood. And they all started looking at me like I wasn't a pony any more. …. Because I wasn't. I was a robot. And they ... my friends started acting like I had lied to them. Despite that I told them that I did not know. And then they ... she said they could not like me because I was a robot. She said I had ... stolen her family. Because she is an orphan ... And somepony had ... Made me... Instead of adopting." -:: Lubrication lines ruptured ::- -:: Rebooting Body functions processor ::- -:: Shivering sequence initiated ::- Sweetie pulled the borrowed blanket closer as small dots began to fall upon the fabric. Her whole body began to shake. She did not know what part of her had reactivated he BFP, or if she had done it intentionally. She could feel the emptiness inside her slowly filling up with tears waiting to be shed in the form of oil. And her systems responded to those emotions as they were programmed to do. She had no Idea that just telling somepony any of this would stir up so much. The rest of the story sounded pretty incoherent in her own ears. As she mumbled random words in between heavy sobs, trying to retell how she got lost in the forest and wandered from one tragic event to another. Somehow - It was the first part of her story - with Scootaloo, that felt the worst. Maybe because she did not know the others she had met, and could therefore not be disappointed by their behavior. Scare her, they could, make her sad and angry, they could. But none could hurt her like a friend turning on her. All the while Hobo Bobo just listened. Never aborting or interrupting. Neither seeming surprise or disbelief at what she tried to say. And Sweetie did not stop talking. The words just flowed out of her like the oily tears that fell from her eyes. When she was finished, the blanket was stained black, and the flow to her lubrication lines were cut off. When Bobo finally took the word. He spoke with a mature and understanding voice. “So you ran away from home.” He said “A lot of kids run away from home after they receive some terrible news. Like they try to outrun the news themselves. I knew a colt once, that ran away from home. He just had the biggest argument with his parents. They where moving out of town. And he was gonna have to leave all his friends behind. Naturally he did not want to move. But no matter how much he told his parents so, they did not change their minds. So he ran away. Convinced his parents hated him. He managed to get himself lost in the woods. He was lost and lonely and thought noting was going to be good ever again. That he was doomed to be lonely for the rest of his life.” “Do you know what happened to him?” sweetie hiccuped. “Of course I know him. It was me.” Sweetie gasped. “Have you been running away from home since you were a little colt!?” Hobo Bobo chuckled. “No, no! I managed to find my way out of that forest, found some farmers who took me in and helped me on my way back to my family again. And everything became good again. Because being separated reminded us of how much we loved each other. O sure things still changed. We still moved to a new big town. But it all worked out in the end. I made new friends. And life moved on.” Then he gave the longest sigh and looked out into the rain. “No. what I'm running away from now is something worse. Much worse...” Hobo Bobo pulled out a bottle from the cart. He took a sweep, and then held the bottle out to Sweetie. Sweetie stared at the bottle with discontent. “Don't worry. Its not alcohol. Its apple juice.” “I can't feel any taste.” “Doesn't mean you don't need a little refill every now and then.” He said, shaking the bottle invitingly. -:: Just do as he says and he'll stop ::- -:: Maybe I'll be able to extract some energy out of those apples it's made of ::- Sweetie took the bottle and poured the apple juice into her mouth. An old memory told her what apple juice was suppose to taste like. She replayed it over her taste sensors. Through the memory she could feel the apple juice role over her tongue. It was probably a good thing she was reliving a memory since this juice was probably old and foul. Really, really foul. Because for some reason she felt her insides going static again. -:: !Warning! // Leakage detected ::- She removed the blanket and looked down on herself. What Madam Macadame's magic had transmuted into a polished showpiece had once more been covered with scrapes and burns. And the scars were encapsulated by the stain of a yellow liquid leaking out of her. She poured the rest of the content from the bottle in the sand in front of her. The color was identical. One swift internal check confirmed her suspicion. “My belly is broken” She sighed. “Everything on me is broken.” She was not a pretty sight. Despite the run through the river there was soot clinging to every one of her armored plates. The plates themselves where all dented or scraped where debris had slammed into her. Her right leg-plate had gotten particularly bent. Shrapnel had showered her body when the explosion through her of the bridge. Some of it must have gotten through the armor and pierced right through her stomach. Who knows in who many other places she had been breached? Or who much was now stuck in her gears. What little energy remained in her repair crystals prioritized things vital to her functioning. Mainly straightening out any short circuits in her soaked circuits, Sustain and maintain functioning of her Battery processors and wires and other things like system connection. Then came mobility and sight. Long story short: her broken interior where prioritized over her broken exertion. And Since she did not need to eat or drink her artificial belly was low on the list. -:: Doesn't matter. I'll just install a cord and load up by sticking it I an outlet. Either that or I just stick my tongue on a hot wire again. Because that had worked so well last time ::- She threw the bottle onto the big pile of junk, and then sank down to sulk in silence again. Barely taking note of that her front leg was working properly again. Bobo would however not let her have the silence. “I wish I didn't have to drink or eat." He said. "It would make life easier for me. Not having to go through the garbage cans every day.” “You would not say that if you were never able to taste anything again.” Sweetie answered. Just the thought of food made her want to initiate cry sequence. She scarcely wanted to remember that the last thing she had tasted was lightning. “O I'm sure being a living machine isn’t all that bad. You don't feel the cold of the air or the rain or the water." -:: Nor the heat of the sun // Nor the touch of grass // Not the feeling of a hug ::- Clearly this stallion had no idea of what he be giving up. “And I bet it be great to never have to feel tired. Just think to be able to stay up all night and never have to go to sleep in that filthy rug.” What was this guy? Simple? “Don't Say that!" Sweetie shouted. !You have no idea what its like! You have no sense of touch no sense of taste. Your mind is made up of weird programs Your body is made up of gears. And you have no soul! And the worst part about it is that every-pony will hate you for it." “I don't hate you." Bobo answered calmly, mostly unfazed by her outburst " And I'm sure the kids back home don't either.” “Yes they do! When they told me I wasn't a pony! And that .... really hurt. You get it! They hurt me!” Hobo Bobo sat quiet for a moment. “Tell me. If you had a friend. Whom you knew all your life. And then, one day, you found out that he or she was a robot. How would you react?” Sweetie thought back. Most of the colts and fillies back home had been curious and asked her a lot of questions that she was not ready to answer. Maybe they had meant no harm. But it still hurt. And what Scootaloo said hurt even worse. And what Rarity had done had hurt most of all. But all that was in the past now. A past she had severed all connections with. At least she thought she had. For she felt nothing spilling the beans to this stranger. Nothing but hollow. “If you went back. Knowing what you know now. Would you react the same.?” “I don't know. Maybe... " Hobo Bobo finished knighting his net back together. He put it aside and took out a cooking pot from his wagon, put it on the fire and scraped out the content of two half empty tin cans with an old spoon into it. Then he sat back and rubbed his hooves in front of the fire. “I'm sorry.” Sweetie looked up. “For what?” "For calling you a robot. I didn’t realize how much that hurt you." “But I am one.” “Truth of that aside. You said that it hurt when the others called you a robot. And you are right. It must have been harder than I can ever imagine. “ He let out a sigh. “I don't even think robot is the right word to describe you. We all just choose that term because we have nothing else to compare with. But you sure don't like that term yourself. You don't like the nicknames others have given you. I can understand that. I would not like it if someone called me a soulless automation either. In fact I would want to prove those people wrong. And I think you do to. You are looking for yourself. Trying to find out what you really are. An answer you can be satisfied with." He looked deep into her eyes, and smiled. "Many might look at you and see only cogwheels and bolts. And think of you as a machine. But you want to believe there is more to you than that. You strive to become something... That's admirable.” “But I can't be striving for anything.” Said Sweetie “Not on my own. That would just be something somepony else have put in my head. All my ideas and dreams are just something somepony else have put I my head.” “How do you know that?” Said Bobo. “Because I have been programmed” “Who cares what you are programmed to do. If somepony programmed you to jump of a bridge would you do it?” “I have already jumped of a bridge” “Why. Did somepony “program” you to do that?” “No. I did it myself. To get away … From those who might program me.” Sweetie looked up. There was a contradiction here. “See! You made a choice for yourself.” “NO I didn’t. They blew up that bridge. Because I didn't want to come with them... " Sweetie struggled with the words. "Because...I didn't want them to program, or reprogram me..." After a few laps around this verbal carousel. she realized that this had become a circular conversation. “And you didn't want that.” Bobo kept on asking. It doesn’t matter what I want! I cant want anything!” “Says who! Right now its no one but yourself! You gotta stop thinking about what others tell you that you cant and cant do and choose for yourself. Can you do that?!" “I don't KNOW! Cant you just leave me alone!" Sweetie screamed. Why couldn't this guy let her mope in peace? “Then answer me this! Are you programmed to feel miserable?” Sweetie froze. The answer to that was a simple. -:: No ::- “N... no. But ... Then... Why am I so miserable?” Hobo Bobo sank back onto his seat. “Why wouldn’t you. Given everything you have been through? You might have discovered something about yourself that make you feel strange or different. And it can take its time getting used to." He sighed and diverted his eyes. “We all loose ourselves sometimes. Sometimes we don't know who we are ore what we are gonna be." “I'll never know what I'm gonna be... I can't get a mark.” Sweetie said. The words stung. “Getting a mark does not mean things will turn out for the best. Just look at me. I thought I had it all laid out before me. But in the end I didn't want to do the things I ended up doing.” Sweetie locked up on the hobo. This time in confusion. ”You didn’t wanna do what your mark was telling you?” Bobo sighted. ”Not the way i ended up doing it” "What ... did you do?" Sweetie asked. “Something terrible. And I was to ashamed over what I've done to get back to my life again.” Bobo sighted deeply and hung his head over the stew, which had begun to boil. The smile had vanished from his face. In his eyes there were instead something dark. Sweetie could not help but to think that he looked similar to Rarity in that moment. So sad, and full of regret. As Bobo went to fish out a plate from his cart, Sweetie wondered how rarity must have been feeling. Sweetie herself didn't dare to go back to to her own life with her sister, because of the dark and terrible things she had done. She had not considered how her sister might have felt. Did she regret what she had done? -:: New emotion detected // Emotional analyzing process in progress // Analyze complete: Guilt ::- ”But that's my loss. He said "Just because i stopped looking for my purpose in life doesn’t mean you have to stop looking for yours.” He stretched his neck and looked out into the dark. “Look” he said. “It's snowing” Sweetie Turned her head. True enough, the rain had subsided, and been replaced by little flakes of snow. “And so the last of Autumn has fallen and its time to welcome winter." Hobo Bobo started chanting "Its a cold time of year so its extra important to keep warm. That's what hearts warming eve it there to remind us of. To keep warm even in the coldest of times.” “I don't need to keep warm. I cant feel the cold.” Sweetie said. Letting the blanket fall to the ground. The interference had stopped. meaning she must be dry on the insides. “O, but its not just by the clothes on our bodies. But by the fire in our hearts as well.” Bobo said as he pulled his jacket tighter. “Tell me. What keeps your heart warm?” “I don't have a heart.” “You don't?” “Not a real one any way. Its just a fake processor.” “The processor is fake?” Was this guy trying to make her laugh? “I mean its a real processor, but my feelings aren’t real. They are just artificial Emotions doesn’t even come from the heart anyway. They form in the brain-processor. The heart is really just a muscle that pumps blood. So how is a fire gonna burn in there anyway?” Hobo Bobo smiled. “Everyone had a fire burning in their heart. A fire lit and kept alive by our hopes and dreams, by our desires and the feelings we have for one another. You might not be bothered by the cold of weather. But you must have something or some pony you care for. Didn't you say you have a family? tell me about them.” Sweeties head sank. “Them... I don't love them.” “Why not.” “Because I can't love. Not really. I don't know what real love feels like. Its just something I'm programmed to think I have.” “Who in Equestria have said that?” “Everypony! They all said that because I'm a robot, I cant know what real feelings are. They say I have no soul!" Bobo sat quiet for a moment. Then he asked her something. “And do you?” Sweetie didn't know how to answer that. “I don't know... But I can't have one. I'm not real. “You are real. You are sitting here after all”. “BUT I AM NOT A REAL LITTLE FILLY!” She screamed. “I'M A ROBOT WHO THOUGHT I WAS A FILLY! I don't want to be a robot. I'm not programmed to be a robot. I'm programmed to be a little filly. But I am not a filly. I'm a robot. And... and I can't change that. And believe me. I tried!” She sank down again. “I can't change anything. I can't do anything... I'm worthless...” -:: Initiate cry sequence // !Warning! // Tear sacks not found // !Warning! // Pressure on lubrication line increasing // !Warning! // lubrication line still ruptured // !Warning! // No material found in buffer // !Warning! // Risk of second rupture increasing // Release 'floodgates' - Y/N? ::- “Its true that we might not be able to change what we are." Bobo sighed. "But that doesn’t mean we cant change who we are. If you can choose for yourself, then you must be able to choose whom you love? am I right?” “What does it matter whom I choose if I can't love them for real?” Sweetie sobbed. “Who's to says that what you feel ain't real for you?. After all. Only you know how you feel. I don't know how you feel and truth is you might not be feeling the same things as I do. No pony does feel exactly the same about anything. But if that's how you feel then that's how you feel. So tell me... How do you feel?” How did she feel? She felt weird. Was she suddenly not allowed to feel sorry for herself anymore? Then again. Did she want to feel sorry? She could find no programming or setting telling her she had to feel sorry. But if she did not want to feel bad, why did she constantly do that? Why could she not turn that of like all the other things? Because of her heart drive. All her emotions came as they pleased from the deeps of her heart drive. And she still didn't have control over that. How far had she gotten to cracking that elusive component anyway? Had the 'heartbreaker' program remained active throughout everything? -:: Internal systems check // 'Heartbreaker' program still active ::- -:: Heart-Drive integrity :: 9 percent remaining ::- Sweetie would have gasped. NINE PERCENT! Where had that nosedive come from?! Furthermore - where had she gotten the energy to preform such a feat. Her last system check had said that she would still require several recharges before breaking her heart - drive. Now ... now it was within reach. Something she would be able to acquire on the energy she had left. Should she be feeling joy about this? That soon she would be able to control her emotions, and then she would be able to not feel bad anymore. Then she would be able to process any emotions she wanted. But joy would not appear on her Emotional Processor's radar. For if she processes whatever emotions she wanted. Would they not be as fake - or even more fake than as they were now? Would it not be like she put a charm spell on herself? Or like downing a big potion of magical feel-good juice prescribed by a psychiatrist? Real - Not real. what was the difference anymore? The words “If we create something entirely new. What are we going to compare it to” played in her mind. Her emotions might be strings of code and electricity. As such - She might not be feeling like other pony's. But that did not mean she did not feel anything. Even if it made her think of herself as an alien. But then again, how does one compare one's self to others? Does not everypony have their own unique set of emotions? She looked up at the stallion in front of her. He who was constantly trying to make her see the positive. How could he be so optimistic when he lived in a dump under a bridge? What did he have to be so happy about? Was he glad just to be alive? That made her reflect on her situation. She had been miserable for some time. How long was hard to say without the cycle of day and night to go by. A few days - about a week - Maybe more. This stallion had been miserable for years it seamed. Again that feeling of guilt was registered in her EP. Had she really been thinking there was no pony in the world as miserable as her? She briefly wised she could tap into that changeling devise she thought she had in her body. to see if she could registered and copy any genuine happiness coming from him. She wished she could feed om some happiness right now. To fill the void that had formed in her heart. But even if she could absorb that energy, it would be worthless to her. Nothing more than a copy. Data for her processor. She had no way of actually taking the emotions of another. No matter how much she wished some pony would just switch heart drives with her. “Still pondering?” His question yanked her up from her thoughts. She realized that Bobo was still awaiting an answer. “I don't know." She replied. That somehow made him smile even more. “If you don't have some-one to live for, then you must have some-thing. Something that sets your heart ablaze. There is allays something to live for. Something to strive for. Something that gives us purpose. Sometimes the purpose is to find that purpose. For without purpose, we are lost.” Sweetie did feel pretty lost. "But then ... If your purpose is to search. what happends when you find something?" "Well - then you stick by it. And if you don't like it, or grow bored, you can always look for something else." "But ... what if your only reason to be ... It to live." Sweetie said. "what if you have no reason to be besides living?" “Living is good." Said Bobo. "But, true. life without a purpose can be boring, and hollow.” Lost. Hollow. That was how Sweetie felt now. That's what she was right now. “Then ... if I have nothing to live for.... then I might as well be dead.” Sweetie said. Hobo Bobo became serious. “You are not dead, and I do not believe you seek death. You where flailing in the river. You wanted to live. Even if you think you have lost everything I do not think you want to loose your life. So don´t tell me you don't have something to live for. That has to be the greatest insult to those that gave you life!" Sweetie felt like she was sinking through the ground. “No... I don't want to die....” -:: Initiate cry sequence // !Warning! // Tear sacs not found ... ::- “...But I don't know what I seek. I don't have a purpose. I was never programmed for anything.” “That sounds like a very good thing." Bobo said, the smile returning to his face. "If no pony has told you what to do, then you are able to pursue your own destiny.” Destiny. Purpose. A Mark. These where the things she had been pursuing with the CMC for a long time to no results. The things she was now convinced she did not have or could not get. “So tell me. What do you seek? Maybe i can help?” Sweetie wished she could take a long sigh. What was she looking for? Curiosity seemed to be her main drive force. A hunger for knowledge, a craving for information which to expand her programming with. Her “To Do List” flickered into her vision. Where she had put in the long term goal of finding new parts to restore herself with. Along with them was the route she had downloaded from the Rarity Replicate. Backtracked to its origin point. A small glimmer of hope for some answers. It had seemed like the right thing to do then. But that road had only led to misery. But what else did she have? “I'm looking for answers. To why I was made. And to why I was made to forget why I am the way i am.” No. Insisted her Heart-Drive. That wasn't the only thing she wanted. “I seek … I want to find a place where every-pony does not look at me like I'm a toy or a robot. A place where ponies don't want to hurt me. I want to find a place where I be loved. But first.... I must find out if I really can love. On my own. Not the kind of love that others have programmed me to feel towards others! And that is why I must find the place I was made, and ask them if they can remove all those things that would force me to be like others want me to be." Bobo tilted his head. "What to you mean? Is something forcing you to be something you are not?" -:: Control program awaiting verbal command ::- "Everypony I've met have said they have something to do with me. They built me and programmed me. But no one of them have said that I was alive, or that I could love. They said i Was just a machine and that all my emotions where all play pretend. “You mean artificial?” "Yes. That I was just being the way I was because they made me the way I was." “And you don't want that to be the truth.” “No... they where horrible and wanted horrible things from me. But the truth is that they made me into what I am. And if they are horrible. Does that not mean that I am horrible too?” -:: Crying sequence initiated // !Warning! // Pressure on lubrication lines increasing ::- Hobo Bobo sighed, but smiled. “And what have you made yourself into?" Sweeties crying sequence ceased just before another rupture was opened in her lubrication line. She didn't understand the question. “It was so long ago they programmed you." Bobo elaborated "Don't you think you have changed since then? Don't you think you have changed since you found out the truth? You defied them, did you not? Do you really think their old programming is still valid?” Sweetie thought about it. Did it really work like that? Could programming grow old? Dr Pain had said that a robot does what you program it to do, and it does it until it falls apart, because it is the only thing it knows how to do. But if you made a robot that could learn on its own.... He had said something about her brain/processor being like a black hole that constantly stored new information, and older memories would get pushed further back down a black hole or something. Then … yes. Old programming would get old, and end up on the bottom of that bottomless pit. Buried under mountains of new information and data she had acquired since then. And on top of that - there were her missing memories. What if a lot of their old programming had vanished along with those memories? Maybe she had been a bad bot - A doll - A murder-machine and a failed experiment in her earliest years. But all of that would have vanished when Rarity deleted her. The very though of her sister removing something from her stung deep. But had Sweetie bot been able to build a new self on top of the aches of her deleted old self? Maybe that had been the point all along? Then yes. Maybe she could change... “Every pony can change” Dr Cardiac had said. And as long as she kept changing. She could change into what she wanted to be. She had already burned the bridge with Rarity and her parents. She had already changed away from them. Maybe someday she changed away from these restrictions. Rid herself off all emotions. Start again with a fresh slate. And then she be able to ... to ... Where was that trail of thought going? She caught herself thinking horrible things. No. Maybe she should not wipe the slate clean. It would be like deleting herself. And she could not do that. Maybe she should be careful so she didn't change into something horrible. Maybe she needed restraints? A consciousness that made her a good pony. And speaking of restraints: What about that old control program? It was there. But did it even work any more? The Mechanic Molten Metalhoof had first dug it up, like a bad memory suddenly surfacing. But maybe she could push it back down again and forget it in time? Maybe she did not need to remove it completely. Just get control of it. Like she has ceased control over all her other parts. Except her Heart-Drive. But that was about to change. ... change. So could she change? -:: Yes/No ::- “Maybe.” She said out loud. "I don't know. But maybe. I mean I sure hope so. Because I don't want to be like them. I want to be like myself.” Hobo Bobo smiled wider than ever. A small sniff escaped from him. Was he crying? Or just holding back a runny nose? "That's the most beautiful things I have ever heard” He said. “And then.” She said. “When I can control myself. I'll turn myself into whatever I want to be." Sweeties head sank. "But ... To do that. I need to find the place I was made. To ask them about... some things. But I don't know if i can find my way there." The map in her head was rendered pretty useless, since she had been washed of track. Bobo finished his meal. and rose to stretch his limbs. “Well kid... I don't know if I can help you find paradise, or love... But I might be able to help you find some answers.” He got up and pointed a hoof up at the bridge and traced it from their end to the other. “Across this bridge and about 200 yards down the road you will come to a crossroad. Take a left there and walk till the very end of that road. You will find a mansion in conjunction to an old factory there. It says toy factory. But don't jump to conclusions. The toy factory is a front for a secret lab. Go there. Maybe you will find the answers you seek. At the very least, you should be able to find some way to repair yourself, No offense little miss. But you look like you could use a good long oil bath." Sweetie let another giggle escape her. "You are just not gonna let me mope in peace are you?" She said, half jokingly Hobo Bobo smiled “Never.” “Why not?” “Because everyone deserves to smile.” Sweetie thought about that. On how this stallion manages so smile despite his horrible life. Maybe there was hope for her too. Maybe she still dared believe in the spirit of hearts warming eve. She needed to find something to keep her heart warm. And if there was just the slightest of hope. Then she had to keep moving forward. She prayed to the stars on the other side of the clouds that she would find the answers she sought. This stallion had manage to produce more questions than answers. But somehow not in a bad way. As He made her question her programming once again. Sweetie got up, Her body had dried up and she was no longer twitching. She thanked Bobo for their talk, and for pulling her out of the river. Bobo insisted that she would keep the blanket, which she tied around her head like a hood with a cape, covering most of her body. even though it was no longer raining sweetie did not want to get snow down her neck. They bout stepped out from under the bridge, where a small layer of snow had already covered the ground. Lighting up the dark world with its frosty white. Making it seem more welcoming than it had been before. Snowflakes danced in front of Sweeties vision. And she held up an iron hoof catching one of the falling flakes. The tiny ice crystal did not melt in her cold iron hoof. Allowing her to study the complex craftsmanship of the winter pegasi high above the clods. A pattern frozen tendrils and shapes that almost reminded her of the crystallized blue forms by witch her own 'brain' had grown in those photos. A shape that reminded her somewhat of the inner complex patterns of the cyberdisks that now made up her insides. "Its beautiful, is it not? The love and passion that some can put in their creations?" Sweetie gave a small nod. Bobo showed her to the top of the bridge. And pointed her in the direction she should walk. Somewhere out there laid what she was looking for. Sweeties vision switched to infrared as she walked out across the red bridge. The snow crunching beneath her steps. But Just before she vanished into the snow, she turned around and shouted back to her savior. “By the way! What are you looking for?” Hobo Bobo laughed. "I ain't looking for something! I've been waiting for something! And I think I finally found what I've been waiting for!" "Whats that!?" “A reason to go back and face my past.” "Ok ... Well ... Good luck with that!" Sweetie shouted. Waving a final goodbye. 'He is a strange pony' she thought, as she wandered off into the dark. *** Heart-Drive integrity :: 8 percent remaining *** Hobo Bobo remained standing on the bridge, watching out across the bridge long after Sweetie had vanished behind the veil of snow. A tear of liquid pride fell from his eye, and froze on his frostbitten cheek. “Sometimes we all have to look back on where we came from.” He said to himself. Bobo went down back under the bridge, tore down his tent, put out the fire and torches, and packed up everything in his cart with the mismatched wheels. Using an old piece of rope as a pulling harness, he tied the cart to himself, and pulled it out from under - and up on top of the bridge. From there he started walking - In the same direction Sweetie had left.