//------------------------------// // Chapter 26. My little Sweetie // Story: Sweetie Bot - A Heart's Warming Tale // by Grimweird //------------------------------// -:: Heart-Drive integrity: 5 percent remaining ::- The snow crunched under Sweetie's hooves as she walked along the lonesome road. Around her, the landscape had gained a a layer of white that made the world shine brighter, even though the skies above were still grey and cloudy. Sweetie herself was probably gaining a layer, judging by the snow that fell from her head as she turned to scout her surroundings. She had followed the directions of the hobo, taking a turn at the crossroad and then headed up a path leading off the main road. The snow had almost hidden the part into the trees, but a rusty roadsign pointed out its existence. "Screws and Bolts" The name seemed somewhat familiar, Sweetie took it as a sign that she was on the right road. The building at the end of the road did not inspire much hope. There was a leaning building in fainted red paint, as big as a barn and long as at least three. The roof was visibly caving in at certain places and the snow that now gathered upon the roof seemed like it would finally make the place collapse. On the roof was a big rusty sign in the shape of a big cogwheel, with a screw sticking out of the bottom (making the symbol resemble a 'Q') Next to the symbol were the rusty letters "Screws and Bolts - Toy factory." Extending beyond the end of the factory building was what looked like a mansion. Built out of the same faded wood, it was two stories tall and with a roof that did not sag like the rest of the length. Unlike the long side, this part of the building also had windows, though all of them laid dark, and some of them were cracked. Dead flowerpots hung underneath every window, and a dead flowerbed surrounded the stone foundation. This place did no longer inspire Hearth's Warming poetry. At least not the good kind. In front of the building was a square barren garden, framed with a low jagged fence made of rusty poles. In the middle of this square was a small swing, the seat still attached to the frame. Sweetie walked up to the sad looking swing, and gave it a push... ... She was sent flying through the air. One second she was looking up at the clear blue sky, the next he was looking at the ground below her. Then the sky, then the ground, sky, ground, back and forth she swung... "Higher Sweetie, higher!" -:: Rouge signal detected // Origin: Heart drive // Incomplete memory file found ::- The swing was swinging back and forth, creaking with rust. But nopony was sitting on it. Not anymore, and probably had not done for a long time. Yet, Sweetie was pushing the swing, higher and higher as the voice had commanded. Who was she pushing? She did not know. What was she doing? Sweetie stepped back from the swing. Was her mind playing tricks on her again? Was the snow getting inside her armor? She looked around, but the courtyard was as empty as it had been before. But she could not shake the feeling that somepony was there with her. Or at least ... should be. ... Had been. ... Some other time. -:: Deja vu ::- Sweetie walked up to the front of the mansion, up some steps that traversed the high stone foundation, and knocked on the door. A bell rope hung by the side of the door, so she rung that too. A carillon began to play somewhere inside, a melody that filled the whole building, and caused some redwing birds to leave their nest up on the chimney. As the melody was dying out. The door tussled and a great lock clicked open. Then another, and another. After a dozen locks had been removed, The door opened inward, and a mare appeared. She was orange like the fruit, except the fruit had begun to dim and molder. Her mane and tail were ashen grey, un-styled yet firmly combed. And on her nose she wore a pair of thick round glasses that reflected the whiteness of the snow in such a way that they almost shone like headlights. It was a mare Sweetie had seen enough times to know by name. "Neurosa?" She mildly asked. "Yea? What do you want?" The mare answered, her voice carrying the dusty tone of a old librarian, and nothing else. No surprise. No shock. No awe. To her, It was as it Sweetie was but a troublesome filly scout cookie salesmare and not a armored mechanical creature. "It ... It's me ... Sweetie." "I can see that." The mare said. No change in the tone. "May I come in?" "Yeah ... Sure." *** Inside, Sweetie was greeted with a dusty entrance hall. A massive stairway leading up to the second floor dominated the center of the poorly lit room. Above it hung a chandelier that - instead of the usual decoration of candles and crystals - housed a large number of bells. The room was instead lit from several electrical torches that sat next to the many, many double doors that filled the walls of the hall. From under every door there was a thin metallic line, with a small crack down the middle, running over the carpetless floor and in under another door. The many lines crossed each other like a railroad crossing, Some even ran up the sides of the stairs, and continued on the second floor, where more doors awaited. Sweetie could not put her hoof on what the whole scene reminded her of. A bell in the great chandelier started ringing. The sound of gears moving like a great clock had just struck noon , and a clockwork pony emerged from one of the doors, riding along the trail on the floor. A single rod ran up from the floor-line and into the stallions torso, holding the whole thing up. The legs kind of just wobbled around a few inches from the floor. (The whole thing kind of reminded Sweetie of a big tin manikin) It was outfitted with a tin top hat and a tin mustache, along with a hollow monocle over its left eye. in Its hoof it held a silver tray, carrying a steaming pot and a small cup. It stopped in front of Neurosa, who poured herself a cup and took a sip of the steaming tea. The mark on Neurosa's flank caught Sweetie's attention. It was a single long lightning bolt, spiraling inward in a spiraling circle that spun around and around and around and around in a hypnotic way. Sweetie felt herself becoming dizzy just by looking at it. "Do you want some?" "What?" "Tea. Do you want some tea? Its home made." Sweetie shook her head. "No ... I can't ... My belly is broken ... That's ... part of the reason I came here." She tried to explained her predicament. How she had come seeking repairs, and removal of a few "unwanted" programs. To secure her existence and independence. and all the other reasons. But she found it hard to speak with with way Neurosa seemed to stare at her. And the dizziness caused by her mark did not help. "Well, you have come to the right place" Neurosa said, and took a last sip from her cup. "And I do believe we can help each other." "Thank you butler." She said. and put the cup back on the tray, whereupon the clockwork stallion rattled along the trail and disappeared through another door. Sweetie wondered how the fine porcelain did not fall off the ramshackle stallion. More bells rang, and more tin ponies emerged. Clockwork maidens and clockwork servants wielding dusters and vacuum cleaners that they swung around in a well choreographed dance in tune to the symphony of the carillon. Sweetie realized what the whole building reminded her off - A giant cuckoo clock. The servants and maidens soon disappeared, having waved their dusters and cleaners at everything they could reach from their fixed routes (which left a lot of well cleaned lines running across the otherwise still dusty floor) And Neurosa proceeded to lead Sweetie up the stairs. “Now hurry up and we might get this done before Hearth's Warming Eve,” she said. Had not Hearth's Warming Eve been over yet? Sweetie had been out there so long, she thought it must have come and went. Perhaps it was already next year's Hearth's Warming? -:: Logic error :: Highly unlikely ::- There was a row of photograph portraits on the upper floor. Showing mares and stallions in varying styles of clothing. From firm dresses with ties and top hats - to brass goggles and jumpsuits. Some of them so old they were in black and white – and had faded to varying colors of brown and red. Every portrait had a small tin nametag. They all carried names like: Coreina Copperplate – Caroline Cogwheel - Sinclair Springlock – Tinker Thinker (and his daughter) Trinket Tutt's - and so forth. Towards the end of the hallway, there hung a colored photo portrait of a mare with grey body and orange mane, tussled up into a frizzle. Like she had just gotten an electrical shock before taking the photo. Further indicated by this was the lightbulb she held in her hoof - which was shining despite no wires being connected to it. Sweetie read the nametag. "Screwbolt." The name seemed to remind her of something. The whole pony seemed to remind her of something. Maybe it was that red color in the mares eyes, or that on her flank was the mark of a long screw crossed with a lightning bolt in a X shaped mark. Before Sweetie could think more about it. Neurosa whistled. She had stopped at the last portrait - carrying the modern image of the mare Neurosa herself. Glasses gleaming and everything - like the camera flash had been caught in those round spectacle lenses. Neurosa ran her hoof alongside the frame. something clicked, and the whole portrait swung outwards like a door, revealing an elevator shaft with a platform raised to their level, just big enough for the two of them to fit into. The very walls clicked and ticked as the wooden elevator descended. It was not a particularity long journey before they reached the bottom and emerged out into a wine cellar. Sweetie found it funny that they had to go up the stairs in order to go down an elevator. She also noticed that there were no doors leading into this room. The elevator was the only way of reaching it. Neurosa pulled a few bottles on a shelf, Twisting them and putting them back in again. A few clicks were heard, and the shelf moved aside. Revealing another secret door - leading into a steel clad corridor that looked far to modern and out of place in this old school mansion. The floor, roof and walls all consisted of identical square metal plates that were lit by fluorescent lamps that ran along the corners of the wall and roof. It also reminded Sweetie a little too much of Molten Metalhooves underground bunker. Neurosa did not waste any time leading Sweetie into the steel clad tunnel. Sweetie reluctantly followed, reminding herself that it the mare tried anything, she would just be able to use her Master Blasters to escape. As they walked, the corridor spread out into a larger complex. A labyrinth like maze of corridors and doors. Neurosa simply led her around all the rooms, but a few of the doors had been left open. As they passed by, Sweetie looked inside one of the rooms. It was a simple steel square, more resembling a prison cell than anything else. Its only furniture was a bed in the back, built into the steel wall. A pillow and a blanket rested on that hard bed, and on top of it laid a white filly with a purple mane and tail. She turned her head, and her deep blue eyes met with Sweetie's. She smiled. "Rarity?" -:: Leakage detected // Heart drive integrity – 4% remaining // Translating energy // Corrupted memory signature ::- Sweetie shook her head and looked again. But this time the bed was empty. -:: Deja vu ::- Sweetie could not understand why. But fore some reason she felt like she and Rarity been sleeping in that bed. She did not know How she knew that. The rogue signals just kept telling her so. Was her head playing tricks with her? Was she hallucinating? Celestia forbid her mind had taken any from of damage from her escapades and had started to break down. Suddenly, getting to that mainframe and uploading herself seemed even more pressing. *** Neurosa led her around the burned out parts of the complex, and eventually out into a great hall. It seemed to be some kind of factory, and Sweetie suspected they might be under the big long barn adjacent to the mansion above. The hall was very poorly lit. But in the center. A great computer mainframe was erected underneath some provisional headlamps. It rose from the floor like a big black monolith. Around it. An equally provisional workplace had been erected. The lights only lit up the mainframe and the small circle round it, leaving the rest of the area in total darkness. It seemed like an odd place to put up a workplace in such a big locale. The size of the darkness that surrounded them only made the loneliness of it all the more pressing. "Do you ... work here? All by yourself?" Sweetie asked. "Yes." Neurosa answered. "But, that is about to change, now that you are here." "What do you mean?" "You're gonna help me finish what I started all those years ago. and in return. I am going to finish you." "Finish me? Am I Incomplete?" "Yes. You are. You were taken from me before I could finish you. " "Why?" Sweetie asked. "Because of ... disagreements." Neurosa sighed. As she talked. She walked around the mainframe, pulling some switches and making the whole thing light up like a Hearts warming tree with tons of blinking lights in different colors. In the front, a chair made entirely of metal was placed. Something was occupying that chair something covered by a white blanket. whatever was underneath seemed to resemble a pony in shape, small - Almost filly sized. On the top of the blanket sat a helmet from which a ton of different cords and cables jutted out, connecting to various parts of the mainframe. "We just could not agree on the final product of our experiment. Everypony wanted you to become something else, so they all put a lot of different thing in you. Making your mind a whole squabble of contradicting ideas. But ... If you upload yourself into this maneframe. I will be able to renew your source code. And you will be able to become whatever you want. I can even give you a whole new body." With the flip of a switch, the helmet rose from the thing in the seat. Neurosa pulled the blanket off, and Sweetie found herself staring straight at ... herself. A white filly with a pink mane and tail was sitting right in front of her, her hair was styled in curls reminiscent of Sweeties own style. Her eyes shone green and happy as she smiled at her counterpart. It climbed out of the chair and moved to stand in front of Sweetie, a cord visibly hung from the back of its neck, conecting it like a leash to the mainframe. "Hello. My name is Sweetie Belle. What's yours?" It spoke! It spoke with her voice! The real Sweetie might have lost her breath if she had any to loose. "This." Said Neurosa "Is what you would have been if I had been allowed to finish you. "Your current body is but a prototype, a mismatched mix of ideas and contradicting goals." Sweetie examined the copy in front of her. She could see there were cracks in the fur, lines that indicated interchangeable plates that had been sown together as closely as possible. Sweetie pulled her hoof over the copy's face. Watching the straws of the fur bend underneath. real straws, real hair! "Is this..." She asked "touch sensitive?" "Yes" Neurosa answered. "Every straw is tied to a neurological interface hooked up directly to the central nerve processor. And its compatible with your systems. This filly was everything Sweetie wanted to be. It had a working voicebox, it had skin! mane and tail and touch sensitive alloys. "And it can all be yours. All you need to do is upload yourself to it." Sweetie grabbed the wire - And fumbled to remove the plug in the back of her own neck. All she needed to do was upload herself, pull everything she ever was and ever had been into the other thing. It would be like a complete mind transfer. A soul transfer - if she had a soul to begin with. She would leave her broken ugly body behind and ... and ... -:: Fear levels rising ::- But what would become of her old body? Sure it was ugly, and broken, but she had to admit she had grown attached to it. It had only been hers for as long as she had lived. And what of the cybercore that had formed from her dying organic self - was she just suppose to leave that behind? A core that had formed with all the electrical currents that her insides where made up of - all the energy and circuitry that hosted her. Was she not more than a program stored on a hard-drive? Was she not also that hard-drive - and all that it was connected to, down to the very wires that she had grown on her own from the broken plug in her neck? -:: Fear levels rising ::- Sure she wanted to rid herself of that pesky control program. But would it not just follow her if she downloaded herself? And renewing her source code - what did that even mean? She did not need to be renewed, she just needed some new parts. sure she wanted to secure her future by uploading herself on the maneframe, But - would it just not be to copy herself? She already considered herself a copy of another filly's mind. Copying herself again would only make it worse. And what about her Heart-Drive ... She could not ... It was not ready yet. -:: Heart-Drive integrity: 3 percent remaining ::- All the things stored inside it. She could just not quit now and leave all that behind. Not when she was so close! Sweetie lowered the wire from her head. "No ... Wait... This ... This is not right! " She stammered. She dropped the wire, and slowly backed away. It her shivering sequence had not been turned off, she would have been shaking to her core. "What is the matter!" Neurosa asked "Is this not what you wanted?" "Yes ... I mean no ... I mean ... Just give me a moment ... I .... I need to consider some things... Cant you just give me something to eat, Oh wait ... My belly is broken ... silly me." "We don't have time for this! Hearts Warming Eve will soon be upon us! And we need to get this done before then!" "Why? what is the rush?" "The winter sale! Just think of how many you will help to make happy if we get all of you out until the winter sale!" "What? What are you talking about!" Neurosa flipped a switch. and in an instant, the hall lit up. revealing an automated workshop. There was robotic arms, generators and shelves full of parts. And there was Sweetie. Hundreds of her! In different colors and hairstyles, standing on conveyor belts that flanked the maneframe on both sides. Standing as dormant as dolls awaiting to be activated. From the mainframe rose a tree of wires. with a crown that sprawled out over the whole hall, thinning out into branches and twigs and eventually individual wires that each fell down and connected into the neck of everyone of the little Sweetie's. Above it all hung a massive banner, with the text written in giant in big pink-shaded letters: MY LITTLE SWEETIE The text was flaked on either side by silhouettes of a little pony popping out of a gift box and jumping into the embrace of some new parent. Like the worlds most advanced wind up toy jumping into the embrace of its new owners. The perfect daughter needs a new home - give her one today. Sweetie collapsed on the floor. She could not bear this. This was it. The ultimate proof that she was nothing. For what was she? Nothing. She was not a filly. She was not a toy. She was not a bloodbot. Not a resurrected dead. Not an experiment - and not even a failure at that. What had she? Nothing! She had no friend. She had no family. She had no home! She had no soul. No body. No mind. She did not even have a name that was her own. -:: Emotional overload in progress ::- The banderole burned into her eyes like red hot needles. “My little Sweetie" Even her name was just some product tag for an assembly line. And if she did not even have a name that was her own. What was left? NOTHING! -::Warning. All systems reaching critical levels!::- Her body started shaking like in seizure. Her back legs started to kick out at the air, trying to buck away the horrible truth. Her front legs where wrapped tight around her head trying to block it all out. -::Overload in progress::- She gave up a sound that on her broken voicebox sounded like the static from a broken record player. -:: Systems Crash Imminent! ::- “STOP IT!” The voice yanked Sweetie out of her destructive thought process. It had came from behind her. She turned to see Hobo Bobo standing there. “Can't you see this is hurting her?!” He said. Sweeties mind instantly went silent. All the voices was replaced by a single question. Why? Sweeties mind instantly went silent. All the voices was replaced by a single question. Why? -:: Why was he here? ::- Apparently Neurosa wondered the same. “What are you doing here, Bronco? She sneered. “You left the door open.” The hobo answered bluntly. -:: Why?? // Why did she call him Bronco? // why was that name familiar? ::- -:: Scanning memory files // Results located in recently acquired data // Data downloaded from external sources ::- -:: external source visibly identified as blue circular neuron storage crystal :: Labeled :: Blue disk ::- -:: Running cross references from visual memory files // comparing images ... ::- Sweetie saw it now. This brown stallion was older, weathered and worn. But replace his dusty coat with a labcoat, and trim his beard until just a small orange mustache remained... “Have you come to apologize?” Neurosa asked venomously. ” Is that why you have brought her back to me? After you stole her all those years ago?” -:: Why??? // Why did she think Bobo/Bronco had stolen her // Why did she thing he had brought her back? He hadn't brought Sweetie here. He had just ... told her to go here ... ::- Sweetie put together one and two - realizing she had been tricked. Of course she had been. Of course he had tricked her. Just like everypony else! -:: Why did he not tell me the truth? Why did he lie? Why did he make me? Why was I made? Why have i been reduced to nothing more then a copy of a mass produced product? WHY DID I DIE FOR THIS!? Why did the real Sweetie DIE FOR THIS!? why DID you WANT me TO come AND see THIS!? WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!!?? ::- So many thoughts were swirling in poor Sweetie's mind. She started with the simplest one, which was actually all the questions at once compressed into a single one: “WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?” The high pitch volume of her shriek made Neurosa drop to the floor with both hoofs covering her ears. But hobo Bronco just stood there and took it all in. His ears his not even flatten to his head, even though the sustained shriek made the left side of Neurosa's glasses crack. Sweetie could have continued to scream forever. At least until her battery ran out. There was a sort of pleasure in screaming. A release of all her emotions that did not require her to waste more of her dwindling lubrication fluids on fake oily tears. A pleasure in seeing that it hurt the ponies around her. These ponies who had taken a dying foals mind and sought to copy her a hundred time over. And for WHAT? But if she continued screaming. She would never get any answers. So she stopped. Bobo Bronco's head was shaking. Blood vessels had become visible on his temple and he was clearly in pain. His neck muscles was tense as he struggled not to collapse onto the floor. After a few deep breaths he steadied himself, and spoke. “Why I deceived you? I suppose that's one of the questions you have.” He sighed and removed his cap with a look of deepest regret. “I apologize for not being direct with you under the bridge. Its just that I needed to see something.” “See something?" Sweetie asked. "Like a test? Like an experiment?” “No! No more tests. No more experiments. I just wanted to see your personality. To see if you had evolved.” Sweetie made the strangest hacking sound as she tried to produce the sound of laughter. “Evolve? – I can't evolve. I'm a machine. A computer. A program. I'm made up of a million parts and sequences made by different ponies.” She pointed around accusingly. “By you, and you, and everypony else! There is not one single part of me that is my own! Not my thoughts, because you made a computer that could think it was real. But this little computer has learned that her mind is made up of a thousand programs and sequences that you have put in me! So that does not mean I am real! And neither does the feelings because you made a Heart-Drive that absorbed and copied emotions from everypony else! So those are not mine either! There is not a single part of me that is me!” Hobo Bronco squeezed his cap. “You are forgetting the most important part of all. The part that truly makes you your own.” “I have no such part. I have no soul!” “But you do. It's your personality.” “I have no personality! I'm just behaving the way you programmed me to be!" “We didn't program your personality Sweetie!" Bronco shouted. Raising his voice for the first time "We could not have done it. If we did try to program your personality, then we would have had to program a response for every single possible situation you could run into in life. How you would react. What you would say. And how you would feel. And that is literally impossible!” Sweetie stopped screaming. She remembered something Dr Cardiac had said about mind controlling not being able to be too specific. “More advanced spells require the hypnotist to make up more and more of the victim's behavior. Eventually they would take so much control that the victim becomes a living puppet, with the puppeteer needing to control everything they do." She knew these thought had crossed her mind before. About the impossibilities to create an algorithm for the unpredictability's of life. But that did not mean she wasn't the brain child of so many other ponies minds. "So what if I'm not being controlled. I'm still just made up to be just the way you made me to be!" "Then - If we never wanted you to find out that you was a robot. Then why would we give you a response to that? Or - How should I put it? If you were just made to think you were a filly - Why would we give you the ability to start thinking of yourself as a robot?” Sweetie's mind hit an error trying to compute that question. It was a contradiction. Was it even possible that a robot programmed to not know it was a robot could ever think of itself as one, even if the truth was laid bare? - The dolls of Taco Teddy's came to mind. Sweetie had tried to give them free will by filling them with behavior patterns - But none of that made them think any different about themselves. Hobo Bronco chuckled nervously. “We could make a thinking computer. We could make a feeling heart drive. But we could not make a personality. That was all you Sweetie. You programmed yourself. “Programmed myself?” She said with a whisper. “A personality creates itself. It shapes and grows like a biscuit in the oven from the day we are born. Its true that we created you, to see if we could create a life. But the only way to see if we succeeded was to stand back and let it evolve on its own. That was the responsibility we had as scientists.” As he talked, he stared to walk up to her. Sweeties Stranger Danger protocols should have activated. But she just didn't care any more. Besides, There was something about what he was saying that had rekindled but the tiniest of light in her. Hope that something about what he was saying was true. Something that her logic center couldn't accept. He put his hoof on her shoulder. “We made you. But you created yourself. Through all the things you do every day." "You mean - when I eat information. Isn't that why you programmed me to be curious? So I would seek new new data to expand my mind with? in the end, I'm nothing more than the accumulated sum off all the files you put in me, and all data I have downloaded since then." Bronco stroke his hoof up her cheek, and tussled the mess of copper wires that made up her mane. "You got it all wrong Sweetie - you are so much more than the things we put into you. You are more then the information you "eat". Yes, Its true that you acquire new data every day, and this information expands your mind. It makes your personality grow. But it's not data in the sense that you have to eat cyber-disks or scan books to grown. No. I'm talking about information of the form of experiences." "Experiences?" "Everything that makes you happy and sad and angry and confused. Through everything you learn. Every experience you acquire. Every memory you create. That is the true data you save in your head. That is the information that shapes the codes that makes up your mind. Everything else is just there to help you on the way. To help you be a normal little filly. Sweetie was silent. But her mind was making a million miles per hour. She remembered Dr Pain's words about her mind being hungry for information. She had never once thought that information could be the things she experienced every day. “Soul? Who needs a soul? A soul is but a metaphor for all the things that makes you you. And what are we all but collections of memories. Those memories and experiences that makes us into who we are." Her thoughts went to her friends and family. All the good times they had together. Every time she went out crusading with Scootaloo and Apple bloom. The quest to find out more about the world and herself. To find out what her place in it was. To find her.... mark. It was a contradiction unlike any other. She wanted to find a mark – a symbol of her pre-set destiny. But at the same time she had grown to hate the very concept of being “programmed” or predetermined to be anything. Why did she want a mark anyway? Because every other pony had one? Because it was natural to want one. Because everypony and her friends had 'suggested' that they should look for them. It was what a normal pony would think. She had started her journey with running away from everything that was normal. because it had been alienated to her. After that, she had tried to find out who or what she really was. And now that she was standing here, at the end, with the answer staring her in the face, everything came back like a circular argument. Did she really love her family. And did they really love her!? Like he could read her mind, Bronco said: “You told me you left your family. Doesn’t the fact that you left for this journey prove that you have free will. If you really were programmed to love your family so unconditionally, then would you never have been able to leave them?” “But... but” Stammered Sweetie. Her mind grasping for straws. ”Maybe they didn't program me to love them unconditionally. But just a little bit?" “And why would they do that?” “Because... Be..Uhm.. Ahe... Bu...” -:: Why? // Searching for answer // ERROR // File not found ::- He booped her nose. And while she could not feel his touch she could register the pressure. “I can see in your eyes that you are trying to come up with an answer. It means you don't know for sure. But you try to find an answer anyway. A machine can not hesitate. A machine answer yes or no immediately. One or zero. There is no maybe. There is no 'I don't know'. But you. You say maybe all the time. You are filled with self doubt. What does that prove?” It took her a while to realize he had asked her a question. “I... I don't know.” He smiled. “Somepony once said ”I think therefore I am.” I don’t think that’s the answer. No, I think that if you can think enough to have self doubts. If you can question your existence to begin with. Then you are. The next pony to flash by from Sweeties memory files were the black stallion Necro and his golems. He had argued that everything that made a pony could be replicated artificially, like his clay-ponies, laughing and crying under his mental strings. But in reality - He had not proved a thing. Because those were not more than puppets dancing under the puppeteers stings, They had no mind of their own. They could not question their existence. Sweetie had questioned her existence. She had questioned her family, her friends and the entire foundation her life was built upon. She questioned why she loved them. “You were not programmed to love them. You learned to love them.” Sweetie thought about all the nice things her family had done together. The many, many good things they had done for her. All the Hearth's Warming Eves they had celebrated. Did not the good outweigh the bad? Apart from the lie - Apart from the secret they kept about her true nature - It had been perfect. Cardiac had said: "For no spell really changes who a person is. They are still themselves underneath the control of the spell.” "Do you really think your family would not have loved you if they brought you here to be made living?" Sweeties thoughts stopped dead. “Rarity …. She said I was born dead.” Hobo Boe sighed deeply. “Yes. You where stillborn when you were brought here. We did our best to make you live. We replaced your body piece by piece until you were entirely mechanical.” A voice clip echoed through her mind. “What is a soul without a body? It needs a body to experience the world through.” “We gave you a body and a brain and a heart. The rest was all you.” Smiled Bronco. Silence filled the factory halls as Sweetie tried to process this. Her mind war too flooded with emotions to be able to make much much of the information. What a gift had it not been to be bestowed this body? A gift and a curse. A secret kept thorough her existence. That was the last thing she questioned. “Why did they never tell me!?” Bronco lowered his head. "That. Is a question for your family to answer. You should ask them yourself. Next time you see them.” Bronco tilted his head. ”Why didn't you ask them yourself? Before you ran away from everything?” Sweetie froze. In an instant she was back in the boutique, facing Rarity with the question that could change her life forever. One single question that was so heavy that she could not bring herself to speak it. An alternative scenario played in her imaginative head: “Sis... Am I a Robot?” Her sister would turn to her with a wicked grin. “Yes Sweetie. You are a robot. How could you not have known?” The possibility of that reality had been to horrible for her to risk it coming true. So she swallowed the question. “Because... I didn't dare.” “Then why did you run?” “I... thought they did not love me, could not love me!” "Because I ... I ... could not love myself" “And why did you think that?” “Because... Because I was not a pony anymore. … Because I could not love myself because I was not a pony. Because... I did not want to be a robot.” -:: Crying sequence initiated ::- The truth had been laid bare. And with it, came the tears. Small black drops started to fall from Sweeties un-repaired lubrication lines. “I thought I was a pony... Then I found out I was not. And everything felt so false after that. I thought everything was false. Even how I felt about them.” And she had abandoned them. She had left them because the thought she was fighting against their programming. I reality she had only been fighting herself. Her own inability to accept what she was. -:: But she hit you ::- True. Rarity had punched her. And she thought that meant she hated her. That her big sister wanted to destroy her. But what if she was just scared? Sweetie had not exactly been herself at the time, the overload she had experienced had clouded her judgement - By disabling her Heart-Drive. So that was how a completely emotionless state felt like. And that was what she had sought to become. By turning off a key part of herself. "Oh ... Oh my Celestia ..." Sweetie sobbed. Sweetie trembled at how coldly and factually she had viewed her own sister. Back then. She had thought of only two options. Attack back, or run. In truth there had been a third option she had not considered. To simply stay... and talk things out. But she had chosen to run away. Because she could not consider that option. She ran from that option. From herself. Because she could not stand everypony looking at her like a robot when she did not want to be one. Even less talk about it. And in doing so she had abandoned them. The only family she ever had. For the first time, Sweetie realized how much she must have hurt them with her actions. How scared must not Rarity have been? How sad must not Scootaloo and Applebloom have been? How disappointed were her parents to become? How abandoned must Jr Branch have felt? How lonely must Screwloose be? How worried would they all not be? She had been selfish and only thought about herself. Was years of friendship and sisterhood and love not worth more than this from her!? Sweetie opened her mouth, and let out a loud and hard bellowing, She blubbered like in infant as the pressure under her eyes increased to send streams of oil shooting out like waterfalls from a broken hose. Bronco had to back away less he would be covered in the black liquid. -:: Warning // Pressure on lubrication lines increasing // Fluid levels dropping to dangerous levels // Refueling required ::- Sweetie did not care that she literally ran out of tears as her oil leaked out from her eyes. There was only one thing she cared about. “RARITY! RARITY! WHERE ARE YOU?” Sweetie began to cry out for her bigger sister But she was not there anymore. She had told her off at the bridge. In the most horrible way! “If you want a sister, just build another one” Around her stood rows of almost identical dolls. Each ready to take her place. And why would Rarity not pick one of them instead? Why would she ever take her back after saying something like that? -:: Continuing cry Sequences // Warning // Tears not found // System error // Tear-sacks destroyed // System error // Lubrication fluid spent // Refueling required ::- Sweetie continued to cry even as the last of her oily tears fell from her eyes. If she could, she would weep rivers for the family and friends she had abandoned and the pain she must have caused them. But she would not cry for herself. She had done that enough. She had literally cried for herself until she had no more tears left. She wasn't important any more. They were the only important thing in her life. They where the fire she needed to feel alive. “What keeps your heart warm?” That was the question Hobo Boe had asked. She had journeyed here to find out. And only now did she understand the answer. Friends and family was what kept her heart warm. Their friendship and love was the fuel for that fire. She had been looking for a family. A home. A place she belonged. She had forgotten that she already had one. Some glitch brought on by desire made her voicebox play the rusty tunes of the old pageant: “The fire of friendship lives in our hearts. As long as it burns we shall not drift apart....” Had she put out that fire when she ran away? When she told Rarity she did not love her. Why would they ever take her back after that!? “I ... I did not mean it." -:: Yes you did! ::- Said her Logic Center. -:: But... I regret it now ::- Said her Heart-Drive. “Rarity... I'm sorry.” But what if Rarity didn't want to forgive her? While Sweetie cried, Bronco turned towards Neurosa, his demeanor darkening. "I also came here to see If you had developed, Neurosa Screwbolt!" Sweeties ears perked. 'Screwbolt'. Why did that sound familiar? Fair enough that the mare had a screwy lightning bolt on her flank. (and that many a pony could have similar names) But still - She could not recall any instance when somepony had called her by what had to be her full name. So how came it sounded so familiar? "And I have to say ... I'm very, very disappointed!" Neurosa had recovered from the deafening cry. At the mentioning of her name, she pulled herself up tom the floor. She corrected her cracked glasses so that they gleamed like headlights, and looked down on Bronco with that cold demeanor that Sweetie had grown to recognize from the memory disks. “How dare you? Bronco continued "How dare you take her name in vain? You know darn well that her mother gave her that name. Not you! How dare you take something so sacred and turn it into a product stamp!?” "Her mother?" Neurosa sneered. "Her mother is standing right here." She turned to Sweetie. "Now come here and do what your mother tells you.” “You are not her mother!” shouted Hobo Boe. “Why not!? I made her after all! I made all of this possible! Look around you! I paid for all of this! It was my life savings that went into shaping her future! It was my life blood that made it possible! It was my Ideas that formed the basis of her creation! I designed this project. I created the very cyberdisks that makes up her core! I hire all of you to aid me in her creation! I spent every waking hour organized everything, I spent every night worrying about this project like it was my own foal. Because guess what! IT WAS! I made her with my own two hoofs!” “We all did!” Said Bronco “The only difference is that I did not forget the true purpose of this project. Its ONLY purpose was to make a life bloom where nature had failed! the only purpose was to create life! And guess what, we succeeded! The prof is sitting right there!” He pointed at Sweetie. Who was too deep into her own depression to respond. “But you wanted something more. You wanted to turn this project into a business!” Neurosa started to laugh. “Of course! With this project everypony could get the daughter they wished for! Programed to be exactly the way they want her to be! The perfect children!” “But what about our responsibility?" Bronco argued "Our responsibility as creators? I say its the same responsibility that a parent has to their child. That a mother has to her child." He gestured out to the conveyor belts. “You claim she is your child: Are they not your children too?” "Of course they are!" Neurosa sneered "In fact, I have so many children, that I am forced to put them up for adoption!" "HORSESHIT!" Bronco cursed. "A true mother would never sell her own child! Life isn’t something you sell to profit from! That's slavery!” "Slavery...?" Sweetie whispered. She looked up at Bronco. “You said you ran... from something bad.” “We all ran Sweetie. From this. But you gave me hope that things could change. I came here to see if you had changed 'Screwbolt'. He sneered out that last name again. "But I can see now that you have only changed for the worse. Just like the others. One by one they all succumb to a madness you gave them. A disease that only worsened over time. I dread to think what the others are like now. But I did not expect you to be this bad. To take something so sacred as her name. The name you know her own mother gave her. And turn it into a product stamp!” Sweetie's ears perked. Did he mean her real mother? Had she really given her, and only her, that name? Did she really have a name, that was hers, and hers alone!? “One of the things we promised was to never program or force her behavior in any way. She was meant to grow and evolve at her own pace! That was the whole point of the program!” Bronco sighed. "But what do you know about raising a foal. You could not even take care of your own daughter." Neurosa's jaw snapped shut so quickly she bit her own lip. “I have no daughter.” “Not anymore. Not after you drove her away.” Neurosa growled at him. “What do you know?” “I know that the walls have ears and eyes. And you are not the only one with access to those eyes. You were so keen on keeping secrets. But when you have a project full of Increasingly paranoid programmers its only a matter of time before somepony broke into your system and saw all the dirty little secrets you kept. Even the recordings of your earlier projects.” Neurosa was gritting her teeth. “I saw what you did to your daughter.” Neurosa looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel. “I have no daughter!” She shouted! “Yes you do. A little sweet thing with light blue body and curly gray hair. And the mark of a screw.” Suddenly, Neurosa's harsh face softened and she looked like she was on the verge of a laugh. “Oh... You are talking about my little lab dog are you? Yesss...I remember a little dog” She said like remembering a household pet. “She had an amazing ability to sniff out technology. A knack for nuts and bolts. For taking toys apart and putting them together again. She even got her mark from that. A mark for a mechanic. She could have followed in her mothers hoofsteps. But Nooooooo...” Her face twisted into disgust. “She was broken inside... Some screws where not sitting the way they should. And like a good mother I tried to fix her!” “FIX?" Bronco Shouted. "You tried to reprogram your own daughter!” “She was not my daughter!” Neurosa screamed. “She was a dog! I did not want a dog!” Whit horror Sweetie remembered the memory from the blue disk. The one Dr Cardiac said they had pulled out of the mad mare's head. “Screw Loose... was your daughter?” she stammered. Neurosa continuously rambled. Sounding madder for every word. “I gave her love and tolerance for years, waiting for her to become a daughter worthy of my making. But all I got from it was a pathetic little 'woof, woof'. She could not be fixed. And when you can't fix something, you throw it out and start anew!“ She spun around and gestured out to the conveyor belts. “It's a hell of a job to raise a child! But why risk raising a brat of disappointment when you have this! With this, we could cut out the worst parts of parenthood, and make children who behave without needing tutoring. Who fulfill their parent's wishes and do exactly as they are told." She smiled. "Why would I keep it to myself!? This would be my gift to the world! To everypony who never have been able to get a child! To everypony who so desperately longs for the love of a daughter! Everypony would be able to find love here. Everypony could get exactly the daughter they wanted! A prefect child, programmed and modified after their wishes. Programmed to love them unconditionally ” Hobo Bobo was left speechless. But Sweetie was just getting started. “P...Programmed.” She stammered. -:: Anger levels rising ::- "You do not program love" -:: Fury levels rising ::- “You do not buy love!” -:: Hate levels rising ::- "You do not force love!” -:: Hate, Fury and Anger levels reaching maximum capacity ::- And just to think. The mere thought of this place as a factory of orphans. Created solely to be adopted. Just the thought of making orphans on a conveyor belt was just to much In Sweetie's mind formed a vision of shelves full of unhappy copies of herself, just waiting to be sold to some random stranger. While hundreds of Scootaloo and orphans like her never got a home. “Does that mean you WANT to create homeless children!? JUST SO YOU CAN SELL THEM!?” Her thoughts went to Scootaloo. Forever trapped in a nursing home because no pony would ever adopt a crippled Pegasus. Not when there where hundreds of perfect robot foals being created on a conveyor belt. Hundreds of little Sweeties running around, taking the place of real children waiting desperately for a family. Hundreds of copies of her taking the place of Scootaloo. -:: !!Warning!! // Emotional energies reaching critical levels // !!Waring!! ::- “YOU'RE EVIL!” -:: !!!OVERLOAD IN PROGRESS!!! ::- Sweetie redirected all her hateful excess energy to her blasters. She let them suck up all her anger, sorrow and outright frustration to the point of overcharging. In a frenzy she turned her blaster masters on the lines of familiar faces. And fired away. Severed heads and broken limbs went flying through the air as a section of the conveyor belt became free of doppelgangers. She jumped up on the conveyor belt and ran down the line, blasting apart every-bot in her way. Once she reached the end of the conveyor belt she ran over to the other side of the room and continued her rampage of destruction. All the while she was screaming at the top of her voicebox. “I'M UNIQUE! I DON'T WANT TO BE REPLACED! I'M SWEETIE BELLE! I DO NOT WANT TO MAKE ANY HOMELESS ORPHANS CRY EVER AGAIN!!!” Bronco and Neurosa could do nothing but back away and watch in horror as the little filly tore through the factory. Neurosa kept screaming at Sweetie to stop. Which, unfortunately, she did. Once she came back down the second line, she turned her attention to Neurosa. So furious that all her systems were set to terminate. She had come here to get fixed. To find out what she really was. Not to be replaced. Not become part of somepony's mad experiments. Not to become part of some assembly line production of homeless children. As a final nail in the coffin, she turned her blasters on the smiling little doppelganger that was still standing in front of the mainframe - Her replacement. A dual blast evaporated the body. Sending burned skin and tiny parts flying in all directions. The head sailed several meters straight up into the air like a flaming hoofball as the heat from the blast set the mane and fur ablaze. When it came down again, the smile (as well as the rest of the skin) had vanished from the robotic face. Leaving only a circular frame with a yaw and a pair of googly eyes. Sweetie stepped on the head, crushing it underhoof. The pathetic tin and plastic frame did not hold a candle to her sturdy titanium armored body. “You hurt Screwloose!" Sweetie spat. Her targeting systems fixating on Neurosa. Menacingly she walked towards the mare. "You stole my name!” Screwbolt was sweating bullets in the face of her imminent doom. Even though Sweetie was shorter than her, the blasters were in even height with her face. "What do you have to say for yourself?" From somewhere far away, Bronco begged: “Sweetie. Don't do it!” Screwbolt swallowed hard to collect herself. Took a deep breath and spoke. “Activate program 934-TXS, Mother of the year addition." "What...?" -:: Activation key recognized ::- -:: Obedience program initiated // Verbal control established in all motor skills // Acquiring targeted emotional energy ::- In an instant Sweetie felt the that little box of secrets in her mind opened up and its contents flooded her mind. It seeped into her memory files and grabbed hold of every memory she had of her mother, copied the raw emotional code and ran it on her Emotional Processor. Ran it as she looked at the mare in front of her. “Stop!” -:: Voice command recognized // Processing appropriate emotional data ::- Sweetie stopped The feeling to obey suddenly overwhelming . She looked up at Screwbolt, whose face was filling with smug satisfaction. “YOU” Sweetie growled. “YOU INSTALLED THIS IN ME!” Raw hate flared up from her Heart-Drive and forced its way into the Emotional Processor. In response the control program copied a hundred memories of love and ran them until if forced the hate out. “Of course I did” Said Neurosa. “All children shall obey their parents! How many times do you not think a parent curses your misbehavior? How often don't you think we cry ourselves to sleep out of disappointed in you? How often don't you think we just wish you would do as you were told!? Thinking how much easier it would have been, if you just acted like you were suppose to!” Sweetie only listened. Her ears flattened to her head and her hears sank as mother scolded her. She knew she had been a bad filly, and knew she deserved to be scolded. -:: NO! She is not my mother! I do not love this Evil // Horrid // Caring // Loving mare! ::- -:: !! ERROR !! Rouge emotions detected - Increasing emotional fluctuation ::- “You are sick” Said Bronco. “Stop this at once!” “And you...” Neurosa turned to the stallion, her voice dripping like poison. “You stole from me. You stole from my world. My future! You filthy little thieves. How dare you steal a child from her mother like that!?” “She is not yours. She never has been!” “Sweetie. This is a bad stallion, A very bad stallion! And you hate him!" -:: voice command Recognized - Selecting appropriate emotions ::- -:: Hate - Hate - HateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHateHate ::- It was not hard for the control program to find code of hate. Not when Sweetie had been so filled with it not a second ago. And now, all that hate was being redirected at this .. this EVIL stallion in front of her. She wanted nothing more than to crush his head like one of those fake copies of her. -:: NO! Don't hurt him! He's a FRIEND! ::- "Now! Dispose of him!” Neurosa ordered. "Yes mother." Sweetie said in a defeated tone, only to immediately follow it up with: "NO! no you are not my mother!" But her legs where already turning to face the hobo. The control program pulled her like the strings of a puppeteer on his puppets. Forcing her to obey. The Master Blasters where charging up. The targeting systems were locking onto Bronco. She had only to take the steps to align her body and eliminate the evil kidnapper/good friend! And her mother would be so proud. -:: NO! no, she's an evil kidnapper. And she is not my mother. ::- -:: OVERRIDE::- -:: But I love her, I love her so much and I cant disobey her, She will punish me, I don't want to be punched ::- -:: OVERRIDE ::- -:: No! You don't love her, She was never your mother! ::- -:: OVERRIDE ::- -::Yes she was. Now do it. Do it for mother! ::- She felt compelled to obey. But she did not want to obey. She would / wouldn't obey. -:: !ERROR! // CONFLICTING INFORMATION ::- The program was making her do as told. But it had not prevented her from screaming out against it. Because mother/monster had not told her to shut up. What else had she not told her? With all the disobedient creativity of a child she thought of loopholes to do as little as possible of what mother had said. She said dispose of the kidnapper/friend hobo Bronco. But not how. How long had Sweetie been angry, if her energy canons where the first thing that came to mind! What else had she not told her to do? Take another step. She needed to dispose of the enemy/Hobo Bobo. But she did not need to put her hoof down to do it. She forbade herself from taking another step. Her leg stopped mid air. Eminently she felt the control program pressing down like a nail into her brain. She did not obey. She ignored what Neurosa said. She was disappointing her mother. "What are you waiting for!?" Neurosa roared. "Do as I told you, right now!" "Yes! No! Yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no yes no!" "Silence!" -:: Voice command recognized ::- Sweetie snapped her yaw shut, A massive dread was weighting down on her mind, as her mother was about to scold her. The repeated order made Sweetie feel even more compelled to comply. Just take that step and it would all be over. Just think about how proud mother will be. But it was what came immediately after that she feared more than anything. How could she possibly live with herself if she eradicated this hated, foalnapping enemy? She could feel her leg moving against her will. Or was she moving it of her own volition? Because she felt compelled to do so? -:: Why am I doing this? ::- -:: Answer: Because mother told me to::- But Neurosa Screwbolt wasn't her mother! Only the program was making her feel that way. The control program was eating into her memory bank and loading every memory of love and obedience into her Emotional Processor. Forcing her to process them. Memories of mother's cold disappointed glare from when she had gotten caught with her hoof in the cookie jar. Whenever she had done anything wrong. All those feelings of guilt and shame of it was rewritten onto the imagery of Neurosa. And with them - the feeling that this was something she had to do to atone for her misbehaving. But they were old memories. In the depths of her Heart-Drive, she felt nothing but contempt, anger and sheer denial to do anything this loving mother/evil monster was telling her. And she became locked in a schizophrenic battle left her body in a stalemate of constant commands and counter commands and counter commands countering the counter commands. She would not be able to keep up this battle forever. Every time Neurosa shouted an order, the feeling of guilt became stronger. If she could just turn off her ears... Wait. She could. Mother/Evil mare had never told her not to do that! -:: Disabling Microphones::- With a thought, the world became silent. And it was just her and her inner struggle. She took every new formed emotion of hate, contempt and disobedience and copied them a thousand times, and since there was constantly more of those forming, she copied it a thousand times again. In response the control program copied every old emotion of obedience in equal amount. -::Obey // Disobey // Obey // Disobey // Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey //Obey // Disobey::- For every command to obey with the given order - A counter command was given not to. -:: !!OVERLOAD IN PROGRESS !!::- The old emotions raced with the old ones in a quest for dominance. All of them attempting to run on the same Heart-Drive. -:: !!WARNING!! // !ALL SYSTEMS REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS! // !!WARNING!! ::- -:: !Heart-Drive overloading - Emotional processor overloading! ::- -:: !EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN IMMINENT! ::- -:: EXE Emergency shut down in ... 3 ... 2 ... 1::- -:: EXECUTE! ::- ... -:: Heart-Drive offline // Emotional processor offline ::- -:: Commencing rebooting sequence ::- -:: Rebooting in progress ::- There it was. The cold emotionless state she had been striving for. The liberation of all the pain and suffering that her heart drive had brought her. Without emotions - She could not experience the massive guilt and obedience that was forced upon her. Without those, the world around her became a set of cold hard facts, information based on observation. Two ponies in front of her. One stallion one mare, both marked with contradicting tags of being 'Friendly' and 'Enemy' at the same time. The acquired information clearly stated which one was which. But there was a part of her that was saying the opposite. A part that was force feeding old emotions into her emotional processor. - A part that should not be there! Now was when the control program made its first, and soon to be only mistake. As it tried to get the feelings under control during the reboot, Sweetie cut of its access to all other systems. Then she focused all her energy on the intrusive program. She surrounded it with a firewall, denying it access to her memory bank. As her Emotional Processor rebooted, the control program found it could no longer run any emotions. And as it left the EP to try and access the code, Sweetie shut off its access to the processor. It was trapped. And without the emotional baggage, Sweetie's mind was free. Sweetie's hate returned with the rebooting of her Heart Drive. She turned that hate onto the intrusive program. She wanted to destroy it. To delete it from existence. But she couldn’t. It was part of her. Part of the endless stream of information that was spiraling down the malestorm of her mind. This program was but one of countless streams of code that her knowledge-craving mind where constantly flushing down that malestorm. A tiny, whiny, sissy part she did not want anyway. So she forced in back into its box. A new box that only she knew the password to. Her mind was like a black hole of information. And on the bottom of that hole was a place with its name on it. So she gagged it. Blindfolded it. Tied it up and threw it into the deepest darkest parts of her mind. -:: YOU are but a program. I EAT PROGRAMS ::- She took a moments rest. Listening to the cries of the commands and counter commands dying out. And once there was only silence, Sweetie turned her ears back on. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! EXECUTE THE COMMAND!!” Neurosa screamed, with a voice that had at this point gone hoarse. Sweetie registered the verbal command, and she ignored it. This time she didn't even flinch. She waited for the control program to resume the battle. But no strings stared to pull out old memories of guilt of obedience. There was nothing. Nothing but contempt that slowly filled her rebooted heart. “No” She said as she put her hoof down. “No” She said, as she turned off any targeting systems locked on Bronco. “No” She said, as she turned to face Neurosa. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Every word was emphasized by a hard stomp. And every stomp brought her closer to the evil mare. Her eyes glowing red with hate. Her weapons primed and ready. The evil mare's face was drawing a blank at Sweeties disobedience. Her own mind apparently unable to process what just happened for a good few seconds. She shook her head in denial, repeating her commands and getting angry when they were ignored. Then she shifted to shock before settling on horror. "IMPOSSIBLE!!!!" She screamed. Screwbolt tried to back away, but her legs failed to cooperate, and she fell down on her behind. Sweetie steeped right up to the paralyzed mare. Put two hooves on her chest and pushed her down on her back. Then stepped up on her chest, looked down into her eyes and screamed in her face. “YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME!” With the spoken words, something kicked inside Sweetie. “You do not control me...” She repeated, as she lifted her head from the mares paralyzed face. All the fury inside her melted away as the realization dawned on her. “Nobody controls me...” She had just fought against the programming in her mind. And won. The weapons on her back powered down and retracted into her back. A small broken laugh escaped her voicebox, a giggle that turned into a big sustained laugh. All anger. Pain and sorrow she felt just a moment ago was gone like leaves in the wind. Replaced by feeling of utter joy and relief. It was like a great chain on her mind had released. She had just stared down one of the greatest fears that could threaten her being. And prevailed! And all the worries and fears related to that threat became irrelevant. She jumped up and down on the mares chest laughing to herself. She rolled around, skipped, jumped and eventually spun of into a dance that could not be confined to the breath-less mares chest. She was over the whole factory floor, jumping and and vaulting in a interpretive dance. All the while repeating “You do not control me!” over and over again as she tried to form the words into a song accompanied by any music instrumental sounds she could produce on her broken voice box.. Neurosa and Bronco could only stare dumbstruck at the suddenly cheery death bot. None of them dared to approach or speak out to her. Like one would not approach a Manticore, no matter how jolly it seemed, out of fear that it would tear you to pieces. Sweetie paid them no mind. She just kept singing and dancing until she eventually sank down on her behind. If she had any lungs she would have been out of breath. If she had a skin, she would have been sweating. And if she had a blood pump for a heart, it would have hammered in her chest. She did not care. Instead she let out a mechanical laughter. A sound that did not belong in this place. A sound that echoed both false and horrid in the abandoned factory halls, before finally turning to face her audience of two, and whispered. “No one controls me.” “Is that so?” rumbled a stallions voice. One much to dark too belong to Bronco. One coming from above. Sweetie turned to see a whole of five ponies standing on a walkway running over the factory floor. Shockwave, Marrow, Taco Teddy and Molten Metalhoof, along with a pony Sweetie had only seen in memory files, but recognized on his blue colors and dark eyes. Prism Prestige. Below them, the darker sections of the floor was dotted with the red eyes of a dozen armed and armored Steel Stallions.