• Published 10th Dec 2014
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Sweetie Bot - A Heart's Warming Tale - Grimweird



Sweetie Belle discovers she's a robot - and runs away from home.

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Chapter 20. Crying without Tears

The rain spattered against the dark windows of Roaring Ricky's Roadhouse. The road ahead laid as quiet and empty as the dinner inside.

It was then that the back door flew open from the force of a terrible buck. In from the rain stepped metallic figure, rainwater drenching of its armor and its hooves full of dirt.

Two red eyes scanned the perimeter looking for any signs of life.

As it found none. It proceeded to move into the workshop. Letting the rain and the cold weather in with it.

“I am not a failure.” It said to itself in a raspy, broken voice. “I am not a failure.”


Sweetie had been running for longer than she cared to think about when the roadhouse came into view. When first she saw it, she almost thought she had circled around back to Molten Metalhoof. the roadhouses was kind of similar - Except this one had a diner next to the workshop instead of a grocery store. This one was also completely closed and abandoned for the holidays. Perhaps that was for the best. As Sweetie had been getting thoughts of teaching every soul in there to fear her.

Jet she had not readied her blasters. She did not want to waste energy charging them up for nothing. So she had simply kicked the back door in, the one leading straight into the workshop.

One thing this place did have in common with Molten's-Gears-and-Groceries was a well equipped wagon workshop. Housing tools of all the trades. Exactly what she needed right now.

She needed to be able to take care of herself

“I'll show them. I'll show them all!”

After wiping her broken right hoof off on on some paper she gave it a good looking over. The repair program might be able to do something about it. But she needed to conserve her restoration buffer. She had no Idea when she would next be able to recharge on repair magic.
It wast meant to fix serious damage anyway. So she would need to repair it by hoof.

But first she needed to get undresses from her battle gear. Easier said than done, as the armor had been attached by bolts into sockets on her frame.

She looked around the workshop for something to help her with the removal, and soon found some suiting screwdriver and wrenches.

The armor also had a complex layer system where every piece overlapped one another, so that no part of her body was left unprotected. It meant that it was hard to remove. Since the detachment points were hidden underneath the overlapping. It might have been impossible if one did not know how the armor was constructed.

Luckily she did. By scanning the many schematics of steel stallions in her mind, Sweetie was able to figure out where the contact point was.

In truth, it was no more complicated than one of Rarity's dresses. Sweetie knew her sister would fold them in such ways that it hid the stitches. Having been standing, a living manikin for more times than she wanted to count – Sweetie knew how to get in and out of a dress, no matter how hard it sat.

The tools that Molten had used might have tightened the screws beyond what any pony could remove by hoof – But it was nothing to the strength in her metallic grip.

Screwdriver in hoof – She managed to detach the bolts, one by one.

The armor was eventually removed from the right leg. Exposing the her body for what it really was – A cold steel frame overlapped by cybernetic mulches, and vein-like wires.

The damage could have been worse. One of her muscle pistons had dented and another had broken right off. Worse, one of her hydraulic muscles had compressed into itself. Like a telescope that had been crushed so that it could not be folded out again. (No wonder the repair system could not fix it - it didn't have the ability to push the telescopic hydraulic out to its right length). The wirework was still mostly intact, even if a few wires on the damaged muscle had been torn off.

Sweetie collected herself and started to think. Her mind was full of Steel Stallions. Their automated anatomy was not too different from her own. A lot of cylinders and hydraulics for muscles, that connected to the sphere shaped joints by piston axles. It helped that her infrared vision also came with a scanner that helped her identify the parts and pieces.

Sweetie re-grabbed the screwdriver, and got to work.


***


Sweeties hoof moved once again. It creaked a little in the joint as she turned it around, but the overall functionality was restored.

She had to pull the compressed hydraulic out to the right length. The many sections in the telescopic function fried as she did so, but finally the pieces detached from each other and she was able to re-attach the broken piston axle into the muscle. The repair system took it from there, and restored the hydraulics from the inside. The broken wires, Sweetie simply duct taped together – before eating the leftover duct tape roll to add some variety to her restoration buffer. The dented axle, she bent back into place using a wrench. Perhaps that was the main source of the creaking?

The repair program complained that were still a hundred little things that needed to be fixed in order to restore perfect condition. But she hushed it. She would not waste her precious repair magic on scratches and marks.

It was not the prettiest job. But it would work.

See. She could take care of herself. Would a failure been able to do that?

She added some oil to the joint – then took a big slurp of the black liquid herself, because why not? Her distribution system would use it to lubricate whatever it needed from inside her body.

Besides. Was this not how robots were suppose to behave?

Sweetie swallowed. Now what was she supposed to do? Remove all her armor and take a bath in oil? She doubted that there was enough oil to fill a bath tub. Even if this place had one. Besides – she could not reach to remove the armor on her back.

Maybe she should take a bath regardless? She had dirt under her hooves and mud in her gears. And her armor was dirty. She could scrub it. polish it until till it sparkled. That was something robots should do right? Put on chrome like it was makeup. Who said a machine should not care about how they looked?

She looked down on her greasy, messy naked foreleg. That was how she looked now. A skeletal frame clad with cybernetic muscles, and broken pistons, wrapped in a tin foil of scratch filled, titanium enhanced battle armor.

She took another swing of oil, and picked up her leg bracelet. It was filled with scratches caused by sticks and stones, and a big black scorch mark endowed the center, like she had been struck by lightning. Weaponized lightning, to be precise. The magic enhanced death-ray had left a deep cut along the side that had almost cut through the armor - and taken one of the attaching screws with it..

Sweetie picked up her shoulder piece, it had been bent and dented from several rock hard blows.

She was about to start looking for something to polish herself up with when a couple of black drops fell upon the piece. She whipped them away, but new specks started falling. Specks as black as oil.

After looking up to see that there wasn't some Oil drum leaking above her (sad - That would have been perfect to bathe in) she noticed that the drops were falling from underneath her eyes. From her teeth.

Wiping her jaw made her hoof drenched in oil.

Alarms started ringing in her head. But her systems told her nothing was broken - At least nothing mechanical. But there was something missing. Her lips. She could drag her hoof straight across the enamel. Producing a xylophone like tune

Without lips, the oil she poured in her maw would sip right through her teeth – In fact. Without any palate or gums in her mouth – It would just sip through her jaw.

at once - Sweeties anxieties about her looks shifted to the one place that mattered the most. Her face. Did she even have one? Her head was the only part of herself she could not see when looking herself over. Not without a mirror.

Sweetie looked across the workshop, and found a small wall mirror hanging right next to the door which led further into the roadhouse.

She metaphorically swallowed. She had not looked in a mirror since arriving at the mental hospital. Before the fire.

-:: Anxiety levels rising ::-

Her Heart-Drive warned her of the shock she had suffered, when first laying eyes upon her naked steel frame. when all she could see of her own face was that small iron square of her muzzle (if she crossed her eyes really hard.) The only part of her that had not been walled away behind a mask of titanium.

But another part of her had to know. If this was who she was - then should she not be able to look upon herself? Besides, how else was she supposed to brush her teeth clean of robot juice?

-:: Sarcasm ... failing ::-

Sweetie pulled up a stool, Silently cursing her own height and lack of a functional growing protocol as she ascended it.

She didn't look into the mirror straight away. She slowly took off her helmet and lowered it over her face. Inch by inch it sank lower as she eyes over the rim. Perhaps that would ease the shock of what the mirror was about to show her.

She saw her iron forehead. blank, bald and -probably thanks to her helmet - Scratch free. To the point it seemed to shimmer in the infrared of her vision. The only thing that endowed that metal orb was a metallic rod that was suppose to be her horn. (Gray with spiral shapes blackened by soot where the fire had even burned away the color.) And a pair of arch's on the sides. They might have looked like ears except they were hollow. Their only function having been as support frame for the thin flesh of her ears - as the microphones were buried deeper down in the turning mechanism that was now making those arch's flatten against her skull.

Sweetie lowered the helmet further. And found herself staring into a pair of red glowing eyes. She nearly jumped back, and the sudden movement caused her to loose balance and send the helmet flying. She rocked back and forth on the stool until balance was restored, then closed (turned off) her eyes.

She had not thought about what her eyes actually looked like to the outside world when her vision turned to red. Be as it may that that the infrared always colored everything in shades of red, but those Irises in the mirror had not been a simple recolor. they had been shining like headlights, added on top of seeing her red eyes through infrared mode - and the effect was almost glowing like the pits of Tartarus.

If she was designed for intimidation factor - then it was working for sure.

Sweetie fumbled with the light switch that sat between the mirror and the doorframe. She turned her infrared vision off as a dim light filled the workshop, and looked back up into the mirror.

What stared back at her - was not Sweetie Belle.

It was some form of skeleton. A metallic skeleton.

The front of her face and muzzle was nothing but a bare skeletal frame, Her muzzle with drilled holes that had once formed her nostrils - connected to tiny tubes that led to her airpump. Her teeth shining unrealistically white against the black and grey surroundings. Those that weren't blackened by oil that is. Oil that now dripped like drool from her hollowed yaw. Without any skin covering her throat, she could see the tubes of air and food behind the throat pistons.

Her cheeks actually were not hollow like a skull. But full of tiny hydraulic mechanism that controlled her yaw like muscles - and by extensions the rest of her face. Out from those cheeks - as well as from around her eyes - she could see the small pins that had once connected to her skin. Small electrodes that had controlled the muscle tissue through tiny electrical stimulating sequences.

Her eyes. Full and round, rotating freely in their exposed sockets. Staring unblinkingly due to a lack of eyelids.

Her eyes. That looked the same as they always had. She could even see traces of red upon the tired cornea. Small red tendrils of veins filled the outer rim of what should be an infected, irritated, dried up eyeball.

Yet her eyes were not dried up. Tired, yes. But lively. As lively as they had always been.
The eyes that were suppose to be the mirror of the soul. But she had no soul.
How could she not have a soul with those eyes?

Unless... they to were a lie.

“...you have your fathers eyes.”

“But my fathers eyes are blue...”

Both eyes shot down for a second in according to her blinking subroutine. And for a second, Sweetie thought they looked better, before fading back in to their worn out red.

She shut off only one eye. and with the other she stared as the color slowly vanished from the corneal. The red lines slowly disappeared from the eye white. And even the green color of her iris faded out as the power left the eyeball. eventually the once lively green eye was nothing but a circle of grey and black.

A lie ... a well designed facade made to cover her true self.

She scanned the blueprints for an answer. And while the Steel Stallion optics had nothing on her level, they still had a protective casing. A pair of lenses that covered the lower optics like the glass on the front of a camera.

Or -As Some part of her told her - essentially like contact lenses. Covering her true visual receivers.

Like contact lenses - could they also be removed?

-:: Yes ::-

Without thinking any further she reached up and put a hoof on each of her lidless eyeballs. The blueprint in her head told her the correct way to remove the cybernetic lenses covering her true eyes. She started twisting clockwise respective counterclockwise. Like removing the lid from two jelly-cans - until finally the eyes popped out of her skull.

She was now sitting with half an eyeball in either hoof and looked back into the mirror. Into her true eyes.

If they could be called eyes.
They where more like two green tubes glowing in the depths of her eye sockets.
Two contact points surrounded by craters of cybernetics. The inside of her eyes. Sweetie's vision went hazy without the lenses. But she was able to see well enough with only two black holes in her cranium.

This was it. There was no longer any barrier between her and her true form. No fur. No tail. No mane. No skin. No eyes. Nothing that could give her the illusion that she was anything but somepony's soulless automation creation.

“Yeah. Like anypony is ever gonna think that thing ever looks like a real pony."

The mirror exploded, as Sweeties forehead made a high velocity impact with the glass.

She headbutted the wall a few more times - digging a hole in the wood as her horn pierced the panels. She then kicked the chair away from under her and allowed herself to fall to the floor.

She wanted to throw the fake eyeballs away. But couldn't. Maybe because they held some sort of sentimental value? maybe because some part of her tell her that she needed the lenses to cover her visual receivers.
She put them back, to prevent from doing something she might regret. She wanted to hold on to them, like the last shred of her former identity. Sweetie Belle the pony.

Like anypony was even gonna call her that ever again.

She thought about all she had lost. her friends. Her home. Her family. Her skin. Her mane. Even the squeaky voice that had been her trademark. Behind her, A pathetic pink stump was barely visible sticking out from the armor that covered her tailbone. It was more like a dot of pink on her armored rear than the swirly tail it had once been.

She wanted to hug a tail so bad. She wanted to have some curls to play with.

Maybe ... maybe if she just waited long enough, her tail would grow out again. Her regeneration crystals still had some power left in them. Even if they had their hooves full with keeping the little skin that remained on her from decomposing. Maybe if she could find some way to recharge them, they would be able to grow her skin back. And then her fur and mane would return.

But that would not change anything. She would still be nothing more than an automation dressing up in a meatsack. A robot pretending to be a pony. Because that was who she really was.

A robot.

Was that finally beginning to sink in? it didn't feel any more real than when she first laid eyes upon her damaged fetlock.

Dr Cardiac had said everypony needed to accept who they really where.

Then Why, why was it so hard to accept she was a robot.

Because I didn't want to be a robot... did she?

Sweeties logic center was looking for an answer to that question. Weighting the positive aspects against the negative.

Her emotional processor simply said that “No” was the right answer.

But who had put that answer in her? Who would program a robot to not want to be a robot?

"No." She said to herself "I don't want to be a toy. I don't want to be a Bloodbott. I don't want to be a Steel Stallion. I don't want to be a experiment. I don't want to be a soulless automation I don't want to be a failure."

The answer seemed clear. She didn't want to be a robot!

But Just who would program a robot to not want to be a robot?

-:: Because I was programmed to be a little filly ::-

-:: But I'm not a little filly any more. In fact I never was... But I was never suppose to find out either ::-

Sweetie had finally figured it out. She could never get used to being a robot. For she was programmed to be a little filly. But she was not a little filly. She was a robot. Buts she would never be able to come to terms with that, because of the programming telling her she was suppose to be a filly.

-:: Endless loop acquired ::-

-::Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...Processing ...::-

-:: Overload in progress ::-

Sweetie shook her head. The wheels of thought spun over and over again in her head until she feared she would suffer meltdown.

To prevent herself from breaking down, she grabbed her helmet, and stormed through the door and into the diner, to give herself something else to think about.


***


The diner was nothing too special. just your typical fast food restaurant and sandwich bar - Complete with an actual bar-disk dressed with a lot of square panels along its long side. The same type of panels sought to give some volume to the otherwise sterile walls. Behind the bar there was a shelf of non alcoholic drinks and sandwiches conserved in air tight glass containers.

The seating places consisted of a row of round metallic chairs at the front of the bar, and a row of tables and benches alongside the big stain glass windows, giving the guest a lovely view of the rainy darkness outside. all free of fabric like cushions or tablecloth in order to make cleaning easier.

A fan creeked in the roof, having gone useless during these colder months. From it hung some half wilted mistletoe. Forgotten as the owner closed up for hearth's warming eve. Some red ribbons also covered the shelves behind the bar. In the corned at the far end of the bar stood a jukebox, had been outfitted with a pair of crossed, fake candy canes. And in the other corner stood an arcade game machine.

Sweetie walked up to the arcade and hit the start button. The screen lit up with a bit of eight-bit white text.

- Rock Blaster -
- Insert 1 bit -

Sweetie didn't have any bits on her. Neither were there any bits lying around. She devoted herself to searching the place. Setting the scanners in her eyes for every possible location one could find a little round gold coin. She searched under the tables, under every seat. behind and in the bar and looked inside every bottle on the shelves. but her efforts were fruitless. Even the jukebox or the cash register was empty.

Refusing to give up, determined to distract herself, Sweetie pulled the arcade machine out from the wall. And had a look at all the wires on the backside.

She had previously been connected to another computer frame by that access port in her neck. She removed her helmet and started tapping herself in the neck. Not exactly feeling her own hoof as much as registering the force she was tapping with, until she found the ponytail of wires hanging back there.

Sweetie sent a small electrical surge through her "hair", feeling the tickle and sparkle as they connected with her iron hoof.

She pulled out a wire from the arcade machine and bit it in half. She watched the little sparks jump from one end to the other. Some lesson in school had taught her that electricity always travels one way. That there is a transmitting and a receiving end on all electronics. She put the receiving end in her mouth and held it in place with her teeth. The other, more sparkly end, she brought to the back of her head. Feeling the tingling energy sipping from the wire and into her ponytail of peeled wires.

She told her repair system to send some of that duct tape glue she had just consumed into the tips of her 'hair'. Despite the 'ponytail' not being part of her original design, it could still travel wherever the waves of electricity could carry them. She might not have a schematic for this - But she could well enough imagine how a wire was supposed to look - and told the repair system to merge the two ends together like any other wire in her body.

Carrying millions of tiny particles to the tips of her 'ponytail'. The repair system began to construct a layer of insulation around the edges of the transmitting live wire and her ponytail. holding it in place as the repair magic merged the two ends together.

Even though she was not able to see, she she could feel the wire weaving into her 'hair'.

She was connected.

Sweetie could feel the energy flowing through her systems, fuzzing out the negative thoughts with a satisfying tingling. She stored away a small amount of that power into her battery, and let the rest flow out the other wire in her mouth, into the arcade machine. It was nowhere near the same level of bliss that a dozen generators had done for her, and her battery told her it would take several hours to recharge to full capacity like this. But at least she would have something to do in the meantime.

She extended her own energy into the receiving ends path, and followed the flow of electricity into the arcade machine's circuitry. Once there, she began checking around all its systems until she found the Bit-register. She told it to boot up as if she had put in a bit, and the arcade game started up.

She pulled out some more of the wires from the machine, until they were long enough for her to get in front of the machine, and play.

The game "Rock Blaster" was just like the title suggested: a simple game were you moved the magical little something around and blasted all the rocks that where falling from the top of the screen.

(Game creators often avoided controversy by making the playable characters something other than ponies instead of having to choose - and potentially favor - one of the tree pony races - In this case it was not hard to see it would have been a unicorn)

The simple objective was made more difficult by the fact that bigger rocks broke into smaller rocks that you also had to blast away. All the while bigger and bigger rocks came falling with increasing frequency until you would eventually be buried in the avalanche - resulting in a game over. and a high score based on how long you survived and how many rocks you blasted.

To spice things up - special things could come out of the blasted rocks that gave you bonuses like stronger blasters or life or other power ups. The playable little something could blast in two directions. Up to shoot the falling rocks, or sideways to destroy the rocks on the bottom of the screen before they piled up and buried you. (Provided they didn't hit you first). So the goal of the game was two-folded: don't get hit by the rocks and don't get buried.

Sweetie played away. But alas was having little luck. Having rarely played any video games, her reflexes were not up to par, and the game was designed to be impossible to beat. She could just not switch between the two firing modes fast enough to clear away all the rubble that built up at the bottom of the screen and keep the falling ruble away at the same time. And the power ups were so rare and often fell behind the ruble where she could not reach it, she wound get buried or hit before she could get a single one.

Even with infinite imaginary bits on her side. The gave was proving to difficult to be fun. If only she could shoot both ways at the same time, it would be easier.

A sparkle of creativity entered her mind. She extended herself further into the machine, this time she entered the game's source code. Sweetie simply sent it her desires, and the code started re-writing itself to fulfill her wish.

Now the game was proving almost too easy. Having no problem clearing all the rocks an the bottom as she simultaneously blasted them out of the sky, she lasted much longer. But eventually the rock slide became ridiculous. She needed to be firing faster, in more directions. Sweetie hammered on the controls, but it simply was not fast enough. She instead let go of the controls - and entered them with her mind. Now she could control the little something directly. She was able to move and fire as fast as the programming would allow. Faster than any hoof could mash any button. She could also see the rocks, before they would appear on screen. She knew where the game would spawn them and was able to predict their movements, she could also see which ones held power ups and of what kind. Yet even with this inside knowledge being fed directly into her brain the game would eventually get too fast and overwhelm her. It was on the 300th try that Sweetie got so frustrated she told the rocks to stop.

They stopped.

The game froze, and awaited her instructions. Out of curiosity she wished for the rocks to float back up, and they obliged. and then she had them resume falling at a speed she could keep up with. But why stop there? Why not increase the number of power ups. Why not make them rain from the top of the screen and turn the little something into an overpowered bullet sprayer with infinite lives? why not make the rocks fly sideways? Why not change the rocks to flowers? or apples? or snowflakes?

One eyes was watching the chaos that was happening on the screen. The other, inner eye, were watching it from the inside. The game had ceased to be, the screen was now Sweetie's playfield. where she could make anything she wished for come true.

Was this how Discord felt at times? Just the sheer joy of turning a established formula into your own sandbox? To make anything you could think of come to be? Besides, Sweetie was not hurting any other pony. In fact, had not the game creators hurt the little something more than she did, by condemning the character to this tragic existence of trying to stay alive in an endless avalanche? Locked in an endless repetitive cycle, whose progress depended on somepony else's ability to push buttons. Doomed to fail and repeat for eternity.

What was the little something supposed to be, anyway? Was it a he or a she? It was a white little something. Kind of like angel. Futtershy's little bunny rabbit. The sprites on screen changed as the playable character morphed into a pixalated rabbit.

Sweetie decided that it was a she. Her name was Little White. and that she came from a small mountain village. that Sweetie was now finally gonna take her back home, away from this tragic existence.

The sprites on the screen changed, Small houses appeared in the background, and scrolled past as the little snow rabbit jumped past them until reaching a big round house that kind of looked like a carousel, where three other rabbits were waiting. Two parents and one bigger sister.

"That's right little one, you get to go home now." Sweetie whispered as the family of pixelated rabbits hugged each other.

Sweetie shut off her eyes and took a deep long sigh. When she looked back on the screen, the family of snow Rabbits had changed into a family of ponies. And the already carousel shaped building behind them had become Rarity's Boutique.

Sweeties wish had entered the arcade machine, and was being drawn up in front of her.

Her own pixelated face appeared on the screen. A whine smile spread across that furry white hide.

Sweetie reached up and touched the screen. Wanting to touch that face. Feel it. She wanted to feel the hugs that those other ponies were giving her in that pixelated drawing. She wanted to go home. She wanted to have a family. A family who loved her for who she was and not for what she pretended to be. She wanted a world where everything went the way she wanted. World where she could do anything she wanted. Be anything she wanted. have everything she wanted.

She wanted the world that existed on the other side of that glass screen.

Could she extend herself into this machine? Could it become more than just a living drawing?

-:: !Warning! // Unable to comply // Hard drive is full // Remove space to clear hard drive ::-

Sweetie let go of the screen. She could not put any more of herself into this arcade than she already had. Its hard drives was full.
She could feel herself filling up its circuits. Filling every memory file with her memories. Like the machine was becoming an extension of herself.

As far as mental capacity went, it was nothing. She was an ocean, and the arcade was a drop that had been added to that sea. but physically the machine was bigger than herself, she would not carry it with her. But what would happend if she pulled out the plug and separated. Would some tiny part of her disappear? She might have extended herself into that machine, but she did not want it to be a part of her. She did not want the game to be part of her. But all of her activities in this arcade had already been stored in her own memory bank.

No - The memory bank ensured her that she would not loose anything if she pulled the plug. everything was stored and copied here in her head. If anything, she had grown from this experience by absorbing the data.

Sweetie did not want to be a data vampire. But at the same time, was not this energy what was suppose to make her grow? But then again, did not more data mean her old memories would disappear into ghost code or whatever? She did not want anything to disappear.

Very slowly, she pulled herself out of the arcade machines systems. Carefully, to not take anything of its code with her. She might be a computer vampire, but she did not want to have this junk filling up her memory. It was a bad, stupid game anyway.

Not that what she left behind was much of a game. Her playful hoofprints were all over the code. If a game designer could see their creation game right now, they would not recognize it.

It felt like she was shrinking. Like all the air slowly being let out of a balloon she deflated back into her ponified, mechanical shell.
Her pixelated face still filled the screen, smiling at her. Sweeties being might have pulled back from the arcade but the imprints she had left would remain.

"You might have been the world's most advanced super computer. But a computer none the less... "

Dr Pain's words echoed through her mind. A mind that was a computer. Like the one she had just been inside. Like the one she had briefly made a part of herself.

Sweetie looked up at the arcade. She could still feel the electricity pass through her. But she was no longer a part of its systems. And she was no longer a part of it.
But she was still a computer, like this thing in front of her. A simple Machine. A simple stupid machine that could not even hold a thousandth of her mind.

Its simplicity was an insult to her existence.

SHE WAS NOTHING LIKE THIS MACHINE!

She told it so to its face. It responded indifferently, by not responding at all. The face of the own creation continued to smile so mockingly at her. A mockery of her dreams and wishes.

-:: Hate levels rising ::-

Sweetie spat the wire from her mouth and pulled the other one away from the back of her ponytail. The arcade went black as the power was cut. But it would still hold a part of her, the creation that she had dreamt up. It would still have that smug pixelated face floating in its systems.

Sweetie whipped up her Blaster Masters - and blasted Rock Blaster away.


***


There was now a black crater on the wall and floor. The game machine had ceased to be. Its pieces had been strewn all over the diner.
Sweetie had restrained her blasters with just enough energy to 'only' destroy the arcade, and not the wall behind it. Broken wires were everywhere. Sweetie could not believe one so simple machine could have so many wires. but only one of them was of interest to her.

She picked up the sparkling transmitting end of the wire that had connected the now pulverized piece of junk to the electrical outlet in the wall. She bit down on it and sucked it like a straw. The tingling feeling of energy filled her mouth as she drank from the outlet until she was recharged.

She pulled her hoof through the 'ponytail' on the back of her neck. It tingled most satisfyingly as energy sparked and snapped through the broken wires. No... she did not want to think about them as broken wires any more. From now on, they were her mane - Who was to say a robot could not have a mane? A mane of wires - It seemed to make sense.

She wanted to pull a comb through that mane. But it was much too short for her to do anything with.

Sweetie looked around at the mess she had made, At the broken wirework that remained of the arcade. She picked up a non functional cable that had landed at her hooves. It was a long thread of copper that almost seemed go glimmer in her infrared eyes. If she had a mane as long as this, she would have something to work with.

She brought the wire to the back of her head, but then a better idea entered her mind.

She went to grab a plate from behind the counter. and onto it she began scooping up as many wires as she could find. She then pulled the electrical outlet out of the wall. Long enough for her to reach one of the benches. There she sat herself down at one of the table. and began to eat the copper wire like spaghetti. Occasionally taking another sip from the wire, to wash down her food with some energy.

When her buffer was overflowing with copper, she told her repair system to send it all out into the edges of those wires in her neck. The repair program once again reminded her that the plug in her neck port were not part of her original design. But she hushed it. Her logic center also complained that she was wasting restorative energy on something pointless. But she hushed that too.

This was not pointless - It was a matter of sanity.

And so - particles were added to the edges of her mane, slowly but steadily increasing its length. Sweetie could feel them getting longer as the electricity had to travel further and further. Yet so painfully slow.

She needed something to do before the thoughts came back.

Wire still in mouth, She leaned back and activated a memory file at random.


***


Sweetie once again found herself observing through the eyes of a foreign body. The data accustomed to the body functions tried to load, but were shut down for the risk of pain. And perhaps a good thing too. For as the recording started, Sweeties ears was immediately assaulted with the sound of a furious voice.

"THAT FILLY NEARLY RUINED EVERYTHING!"

Sweetie barely had time to organize herself and her ears were already ringing. She was once again sitting at the round table, in that poorly lit conference room. The lack on any infrared vision made the room seem even darker, but she could still make out the silhouettes of two ponies holding back a third, green stallion. There seemed to be a lesser tumult going on. As every pony was shouting and talking at the same time.

“Mr Metalhoof – Calm yourself!” ordered the stern voice of the mysterious mare in glasses. “Its hardly her fault that we did not lock the doors.”

"Then I demand we install locks on all doors! Code controlled locks! So no one else can sneak around and sabotage as they see please.” Metalhoof shouted back. He had stopped struggling against his two restrainers. Who Sweetie could now see were the pegasus called Shockwave, and the mad mare Marrow. Sweetie could feel the lips of the pony she was occupying curl up into a smug smile as she watched the furious stallion

The lips separated to form words. And the the sly, calm voice of a stallion left her mouth.

"Ruin? Sabotage? More like saved everything. The Crystal she made is exceptional! Let us use it. Let us use her!" Said the big blue unicorn.

“Will the parents allow it?” Said the brown earth pony called Bronco. “They were pretty clear before that they did not want their daughter to be part of this.”

“Like it or not," Sweetie's mouth answered, "That filly has dragged herself into this. And she had pretty much proven that she wants in, by breaking into our lab like that. If she wants to be a part of this so damned bad, she can get it!”

“Ain't you missing the point?” Said Bronco “She has been a part of this since the beginning – the whole point of this project is to see if that little machine can develop real emotions for that family.”

“And the way she responds to Rarity … The way she is drawn to her … It's just fascinating.” Said a third stallion

That voice could only belong to Dr Pain. Even if he did not drag the word out to a hiss like Sweetie remembered.

“Even if it does not have emotions, it sure seems like she has imprinted on Rarity” he finished.

“She tore out my bloodpump to put that rock in there! She ruined my design!” Metalhoof sneered. “I Will not allow her to be part of anything! I demand that childish heart shaped thing be removed from the construction!"

"You are just mad that a little filly managed to do what all of us failed at" The black demon by the name of Necro said with a laugh.

"The “Heart” sits good where it sits." The mare in glasses said calmly. "The main processor have already registered its energy and is now counting it as a part of itself. - Removing it now would be counter productive.

Metalhoof sneered but remained silent. Shockwave and Marrow let him go and they all returned to their respective seats. Now that calmness had been restored. The mare in glasses took a long deep breath, and continued.

"This may be our big breakthrough. You all know how the central processor saved us years of programming by absorbing all the necessary data about body functions from its surroundings. This “rock” might be able to do the same, but with emotions instead.

“But it creates another problem." Said Shockwave the Pegasus. “The blood pump wont fit now. And without it we will loose the tissue.”

“Not necessarily.” Sweetie felt her own lips say. “Since we are already talking about crystals, I believe we already have our solution.”

The lips curled up into a smug smile as he basked in everypony's attention. Just when someone was about to ask him what he was actually talking about, he aborted them.

“Since we are exploring the crystals ability to store energy, I believe its time we took it to the next level. We charge a few crystals with rejuvenating magic, and apply them to her structure. I believe that will keep the skin alive and well.

Shockwave shook his head.

“What you are saying if we should keep alive that which is already dead. If one of these crystals fail, the skin will begin to rot and deteriorate.”

Bronko buried his equally concerned face in his hooves.

“The skin is gonna be cut of from the rest of the system, we wont be able to find a way to distribute nutrients from the stomach to the organic tissue. - It will become like a suit. A full body suit made of flesh and blood.”

"This is starting to sound like a horror story.” Necro said with a smile. “But look on the bright side - The filly wont really need to eat to look healthy. Neither will she be able to grow fat and ugly."

"Will you stop obsessing over the figure of a newborn you..." Shockwave started. But the mare in glasses aborted him.

"There are more reasons than the look of our subject to keep the hide alive - we do still need the skin if we want to collect proper data on the sense on touch. Because without a surrounding layer of nerves - the subject wont be able to feel the world around it. We need to make sure the signals of the nerves actually registers with the mainframe. ”

Dr Pain gave a weird smile.

"I believe we can to hook up the nerve endings to the sensory-equipment we have been working on." He said. "It can act as a bridge between the biological and neurological systems. Something that translates the electrical impulses from the nerves into data - and back again. I also suggest that in case we do lose the tissue, we continue our development of nerve cluster crystals that can emulate the true feeling of skin - In case we are gonna need another from of external housing – something that could emulate the look and feel of real fur.”

"You mean an ... artificial skin?" Bronco asked.

Marrow spoke up

“While we are on the subject of emulation of true to life body functions, I think its time we start discussing inner body functions. Such as hunger, exhaustion, sleep and breath - to name a few. If this is going to mimic a living pony as true to life as possible, it needs to be able to feel these things.”

“She” Bronco corrected “Not it… She”.

The others ignored his comment, with varying degrees of annoyance.

“How do we program bowel movement?” sighed Necro. “And how are we going to make it go potty?” he laughed.

Good question. Sweetie thought, Why did she go potty – she could not think of any other reason other than appearing natural.

“Easy.” Said the mare in glasses. Mr Metalhoof's cybernetic belly will need a way to dispose of sludge material and fluids that will need to exit the body the natural way. I'm sure if you 'geniuses' but your heads together you can come up with a way to make that sludge look “natural.”

Mr Molten did not look pleased.

“You want to lower the effectiveness of my creation!?”

"I aim to increase it” The mare reassure “lets not forget that our subject will be digesting other things than metal and crystals.”

Metalhoof was about to say something. But mad Marrow aborted him.

“Before we get ahead of outselves. ”She said “You should consider that Nopony here has any idea of how to program a true to life body emulator.”

Dr Pain scrached himself in the back of the head, and suddenly shined up.

“I have an idea. We need to collect data on body functions. We can then store that data in the crystals, the same way we stored brain-waves.”

The mare in glasses put a hoof to her chin.

“I see... We could in theory connect the crystals to the nervous system, The body signals all operate on tiny electrical frequencies. So we should be able to copy those."

“But... to do that we need to preform tests on real life ponies.” Marrow said with an alarming tone. “In other words, We'll need to do it on ourselves.”

“You mean. Like Guinea pigs?” The others said nervously.

Dr Pain cracked an evil smile.

“Any volunteers?”

Marrow was not done.

“Its not just sense of touch that needs to be discussed." She persisted. "The other four senses of taste-smell-hearing and sight needs to be addressed as well.

Molten Metalhoof spoke up

“Actually, those things could be constructed mechanically, using some smell sensitive equipment for the nose, some microphones for the ears and cybernetic lenses for the eyes. The lenses could be similar to what you have in a camera.
My point is: There is already measuring equipment that is really true to life sensitive – in fact, its far better than our own biological senses, at detecting smells and sound, and even taste.

“But they want true to life, so we have to limit the settings on the equipment we install.”

“We can test the equipment, and program its recognition of smells...

“NO.” Said the mare in glasses “That is exactly what we will not do! We will not install any pre-knowledge of anything. Instead, we will let the filly discover her senses for herself. And we will then simply teach her what different smells are called. Like all foals have to be taught.”

“I agree.” Said Bronco “This is to see if she can learn on her own”.

“But how will we know if she smells things the same way we do?” Necro asked.

The mares glasses shimmered as she smiled

“We don't. we will simply tell her that chocolate smells like chocolate – if her perception of the same smell somehow is different from ours is not of our concern, for she will still learn to identify it as the same as we all do.”

The others nodded in various levels of agreeing.

The mare in glasses gave out instructions to everyone in the room and ended the meeting
Everypony rose and left the room, except for the mare herself, and the big blue body who Sweetie was occupying.

After everypony had left, the mare turned towards this stallion. Her glasses shimmered as she tapped her hooves under her chin.

“If we are gonna start experimenting with putting emotions into crystals, we are gonna need an expert on emotions. And I don't just mean a psychologist. I mean somepony who truly understands the magic and energy behind them.”

The two exchanged a look

"Perhaps some-one who understands it better than any-pony does."

Sweetie felt "her" lips smile even wider.

“Don't worry." they said "I know just where to find one.”

-:: Recording ended ::-

Sweetie looked up.

Lesson learned. Never look another one of those memories ever again. They did not ever make her feel better. And the last thing Sweetie needed now was more questions around her authenticity as a filly.

A filly ... that was what she was supposed to be... Right?

She had been created to be like a real filly ... Right? But now those ponies said that there was no way of knowing if she would truly be like one. They could not program her senses, because they had no idea what they were doing.

Senses. They are different to all ponies. Sweetie remembered a philosophy she had been taught in art-school. That color is but the reflection of light upon a surface. And that every eye might register that light differently.
If one pony looks at a leaf and see the color green, Or at least they see a color called green, their eyes perceive the world in a specific way - a specific tint of color. But what is the next pony gonna see? Maybe they see a completely different tint. A different shade. They only call it the same name because they have been taught that that particular color is named green.

The same held true for all scenes. After all, one pony could say that something smelled good, and another thought it smelled bad. Some liked tea, some coffee, some milk, Others could not stand the taste. Everypony perceived the world differently.

What if she did not perceive the world the same way that everypony else did? How could she? She had already lost her skin. And even when it had been attached, it had only been a meatbag connected to sensors. Sensors that could be turned off when the pain become too much to bear. How could she possibly know what real pain was like? Her eyes were visual optics with built in infrared vision. Of course her perception of the world was different. And her other senses were hyper sensitive electronics. Her ears were microphones that picked up sound better than any normal pony ear had the right to do. Her nose had only-her-makers-knew-what that could pick up and analyze smell on a level that only a dog should be able to.

How could she ever be a real filly?

But if she was not a filly... Then what was she?

Looking down on herself. She was a mechanical skeleton with ports for an attachable battle armor, yet she was no Bloodbot, and her blasters were a joke that drained her energies faster than a vampire fruit-bat would drain an apple. She had been sold to her family, to be their toy, even though she searched for so many more aspirations in life. She had been an experiment. An attempt to create a real filly, an experiment that had failed.

Or maybe she was still an experiment? She was not blind to the fact she kept running into people that all had something to do with her creation. Maybe her whole life had been just one big lie? Just one really, really big test to see how she behaved. Maybe that was what Dr Pain had tried to tell her? Maybe everypony in her life was in on it. Maybe they were all actors that secretly conspired with the scientists that monitored her. Maybe this whole traumatic trip had been orchestrated by those scientists, to see how far they could push her? Maybe they conspired to destroy her life, just to test her reaction.

Was that all she was. Just a rat in this torturous maze?

Sweetie looked around the room. Scanning intensely for cameras mounted on legs, or otherwise.

-:: Paranoia level rising ::-

She did not want to be an experiment. She did not want to be either of those things. But then... what was she?

“What am I suppose to be? What am I?”

It was a question that had haunted her for as long as she had searched for a cute little mark. All that crusading she had been doing to find out just what she was meant to be. Ironic – was it not – that it was just that very crusading that had brought out the truth.

But how was she supposed to find a purpose, when others had designed a purpose for her? If they even had decided on one. Those ponies did not seem to be able to agree on anything. Not with their hundreds of versions of Sweetie's future body, and contradicting interpretations of her true purpose and all.

-:: But if you had no direct purpose – then are you not free to pursue your own purpose? ::-

It was a thought that should please her.

But for some reason it didn't.

How was she suppose to find a purpose, in this cold harsh world that seemed to reject her at every turn? The long term goal of living forever and maintaining herself did not seem like a very tempting purpose.

She wanted something more in her life. Needed something more.

"I want ... To become a real filly."

She looked out through the window. up at the rainy dark sky. Somewhere up there, the star of Hearts Warming Eve must be shining still.
And if she could make a wish upon that star, just one wish in the whole world, it would be to become a real filly. Mom had always said that if you wish for something genuinely enough - the stars will hear your wish - and grant it.

She thought about an old poem her mother used to sing around the Hearth's Warming fire.

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you.

Sweetie started chanting. and by the end of the song, she made her wish.

Nothing.

She sung the song again and again. and wished again and again at the end of every replay. And still nothing happened.

She let out a sigh.

Maybe it was not enough to just sit here and wish upon the dark clouds. Maybe she needed to go out there and find some way to make her one wish come true. Or MAKE it come true.

The thought filled her with yearning. And the yearning became a burning desire to make it so.

That's right. She was gonna take control of her own destiny. She was gonna become the pony she wanted to be! And if the stars would not aid her. Then screw the stars.

She would have stuck her tongue out at the stupid stars - If she had anything to stick out.

She wanted to become a really filly again. She had no Idea how she was gonna do it. But somehow – she was gonna do it. Because her life as a robot sucked!

-:: Logic error // Not having to breathe under water // Being able to turn your organs on and off // Being able to see in the dark // Having super sensitive senses // Being able to lift nearly 200 times your own weight ... ::-

Especially that stupid logic processor.

Maybe Sweetie could do something with the help of some magic? She would have to find a powerful wizard, or a wish granting genie, or even Discord, and make him turn her into a real filly! She did not care how long it would take – She was immortal after all.

-:: Logic error // Surrendering this body would be to surrender immortality ... ::-

-:: SHUT UP! ::-

Maybe she could even have her mind transferred into a real body.

She shot an angry look at the pile of aches that had been the arcade machine.

-:: Logic error // Your body is real ::-

But was her feelings real? If all of her senses and all of her thoughts were artificial. How could her emotions be real?

Her emotional processor seemed sure that they were real enough. But how could she know? Maybe that's why the stars did not answer? She could not want it genuinely enough.

The words of Dr Pain, Who she had tried to get away from, ever since she ran from his junkyard, echoed in her mind as the recording played again and again. (a voice she could not outrun, a voice that only existed in her head.)

"So the question ... the only question becomes as thus: How do you make a computer - a machine - want something? how do you teach it to feel the many pains of life? How do you feel pain without a body? How do you feel sadness without tears to fell? How do you feel anger without blood to boil? How do you feel sorrow, with no heart to sink in your chest? How do you feel love, with no heart to fill it?”

-:: !ERROR! // Does not compute ::-

Sweetie could not comprehend this. Could she not feel love without a heart? Was she unable to feel sorrow or loss without a heart either? Why did she then feel like she did? Had not Dr Cardiac said that emotions came from chemicals in the brain? And not from the heart. That the heart was just a muscle that pumped blood anyway?

"How do you feel love, with no heart to fill it?”

All thoughts of despair that knocked on her emotional processor was punched out by a single thought.

Could she feel love? could she feel anything? Love anypony?

This was a question more elusive than if her artificial senses were genuine. If Sweeties emotions were nothing more than code on a crystal like disk - then were they not artificial too? how could they be genuine? Was "love" not just a program that had been inserted into her upon her creation? And if she was just programmed to love - did that mean her emotions where not real? And if her emotions where not real. How did real feeling feel? How does it feel to feel???

She remembered Dr Cardiac's words:

“A mind is such a fragile thing. It can burst and shatter if mistreated.”

She needed to treat these thoughts very carefully – one misstep on that logic part. And she would tumble down into despair. Another meltdown. And she weren’t sure her systems - that SHE, could take it.

-:: Initiating crying sequence // !Warning! // Tears Sacs not found ::-

No. She could not take it. The pressure on her processors were becoming too much as the thought spun around again and again. And the fact that she could not cry did not make her any better.

-:: Initiating crying sequence// !Warning! // Tears Sacs not found ::-

But she wanted to. Sweetie wanted to just lie down and cry for a moment, even if just a short one. Her emotional processor felt so full of tears that she thought she was about to explode. If she wasn't allowed to cry. She would thought she would literally go insane!

-:: Initiating crying sequence // !Warning! // Tears Sacs not found ::-

Sweetie gritted her teeth, she wanted to cry. She NEEDED to cry. It was how she vented all her emotions. Without any ability to vent them, they would just build up inside of her.

-:: !Overload in progress! ::-

Case in point!

In sheer spite of the circumstances, In desperation to distribute her negative energy, Sweetie sent more and more energy to her eyes. Her eyes started blinking red as it shifted from and to infrared, and every icon available started dancing in her vision as the optic lenses started to overload.

There was the faint sound of a double frizzle. Almost like two balloons popping. And Sweeties vision went hazy. She raised her hooves to her eyes. What was happening. Was she spontaneously combusting now?

-::Internal systems check // Sinuses Lubrication line ruptured due to violent increase of pressure // Leakage detected ::-
-:: Repair program on standby ::-

Drip ...

Drip ....

Drip .....

Drip ......

Sweetie removed her hooves from her eyes. A small back puddle was forming underneath her. Tiny black dots were falling from her peripheral vision. Her hooves were likewise stained with some of the black stuff.
Her eyes turned off and on again in an emulated blinking. But this did not clean her eyes of the substance like a pair of real eyelids would. Yet another thing she was missing.

The repair program remained dormant. Obediently waiting for her to let it patch up the damage. Jet, she remained there. Just looking down into that puddle. Just watching the drops fall from her eyes.

Oil instead of tears.

As she leaned over the puddle. Something else fell into her vision. A small strand of copper.

Wondering where it had come from, she grabbed it. She instantly felt a small tingling, bout in her hoof, and in the straw.
Continuing to touch the copper strands, she trailed them up over her head, and found a whole bundle waiting for her. She pulled the bundle out, and found herself sitting with a long thick ponytail in her hooves.

A mane made out of the thinnest copper lines.

Some of the small sticks in her cheeks twitched - trying to emulate a smile on lips that were no longer there.

-:: Happiness levels rising ::-

It had been far too long since she sincerely felt like this. She had a mane again. She had tears again .... She was finally getting back some of the things she had lost. She had taken them back of her own accord.


***


"Would a failure have been able to do this?" Sweetie asked herself as she stood in front of the mirror in the diners public bathroom.
"I think not"

She pulled a steel brush through her copper mane again and again. Feeling a most satisfying tingling as she did so.

The public bathroom didn't have any brushes - But there was nothing the workshop didn't provide. Out there she had quickly found a steel brush. which was even better, since the metallic sticks on the hilt reacted with the energy in her mane as she combed it in a way no plastic or thick bristle brush would have been able to do.

Her copper mane glistered in the dim bathroom light. It might only have been growing out the port in the back of her neck. But it had become long enough that she could bull it over her otherwise bald scalp. Long enough that she could roll it together into thick illustrious locks that added some much needed volume to her forehead.

Sweetie put the steel brush down, and pulled up a bucket of paint that she had found while scavenging for the brush. In another fit of inspiration, she had dragged it with her to the bathroom, and was now fully intent to apply that thick wagon paint to her face.

She carefully lowered her head into the wide, newly opened bucket. The paint spilled over the sides as her face descended into the moisture. Not all the way, as she stopped just before the paint reached her eyes. She had no intentions of painting herself blind after all.

She looked back up into the mirror. The paint was thick and clung to her face like clay. It dripped and sloshed down her cheeks. Her nostrils had disappeared underneath the thick moisture. As had her teeth.

If she twisted back the focus of her vision. She could almost look like herself. If she had just covered herself in massive amounts of paint.

Sweetie pulled out a thick paint brush, and started applying an even thicker layer of paint to her cheeks. She moved on to paint the rest of her forehead. As well as her horn.

"I'm a pretty pony". She told herself "I'm a pretty pony, I'm a really pretty pony, l'm a real pretty pony."

She put her but end of the brush to her mouth, and drew a wide smiling line in the gooey makeup.

"I'm a real pony."

Such a masterful fixing up job deserved a reward. And not in the likes of crystals of copper-pasta. No, Stuff that real ponies ate. Real sweet stuff. Real sweet treats that she now deserved to treat herself to.

She moved back out into the diner and began looking behind the bar. None of the glassed in Sandwiched caught her interest. But down under the bar she found a series of small fridges. Most of them had been emptied as the diner closed for the holidays. But one, the freezer, contained several trays of frozen muffins!

Score!

Sweetie started picking her hooves full. Then just pulled out the entire tray, and inserted it all into a big micro wave. She was gonna treat herself to some real food. some real muffins. Because that's what a real filly got to do.

A REAL FILLY GOT TO EAT ALL THE MUFFINS!

When the micro wave had finished to thaw the muffins, she took the entire plate back to her seat by the window. She blew the paint out of her nostrils, ans sucked in the sweet aroma of some sweet chocolate strawberry muffin. She briefly wondered if she could eat them with paper and all, before deciding to be a real good little filly and remove the paper before shoving the whole thing into the mouth.

Nothing.

Sweeties anxiety levels rose as she began to shew. Her steel crunching yaw barely registered any resistance, it was like chewing air. But the worst part was the taste. Or the utter and complete lack thereof.

-:: No ::-

She put another one in her mouth. But her taste sensors who had been dormant even since her trip up the lightning tower, refused to activate.

Sweetie forced them to switch back on. They would not deny her the sweet taste of fluffy strawberry chocolate muffins.

-:: Taste sensors rebooting // !Warning! // Taste buds not fund // Tongue not found ::-

-:: No ::-

She took another bite, and another, and when the muffin was gone she ate another, all with the same result. As she did, the memory she had been repressing came boiling up to the surface. She could no longer deny the reality of her own shortcoming.

She could not deny ... that she had no tongue.

-:: Crying sequence initiated // !Warning! // Tear sacs not found // !Warning! // Lubrication overload in progress // !Warning! // Lubrication line rupture detected ::-

Black drops started to fall down upon the tray. The smell of the delicious muffins assaulted her nostrils, taunting her with their sweet aroma. She lifted another muffin. Doing her best to wipe the oil stains from it. She took a good long sniff, taking in every aspect of the aroma. Her unshackled smell-sensors able to take in so much more than she ever had. And put it in her mouth.

The smell activated a memory of when mom had tried this delicious combination back in their old home. Looking at it again, she could see the code that had passed through her taste sensors as the sweet flavors washed over her organic taste buds. The memory contained all the data of how that first delicious bite.

Sweetie took yet another muffins. This time she sent that data to her rebooted taste sensors, she forced it to replay the code the same way she had made her voicebox play up an old sound file.

Maybe... Maybe she should be happy with this? ... Maybe she should be happy that she could at least relive the tastes of old?

-::No nonononononononnonnonnoonoonononononnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooo::-

-:: Error // Smell sensory data incompatible with taste sensory data ::-

This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. She did not want to remember how old muffins tasted! That was old data! She wanted new data! She did not want to feel the same old taste file replay in her mouth again and again. She wanted to feel how this muffins tasted! And it could not taste exactly the same! The clashing data of her nose-sensors told her so!

Out of spite She swallowed all the muffins. She shoved the all down her throat with paper and all. Once the tray was empty she shoved it off the table and ran back to the fridge to eat the rest of them. Not even bothering to heat them up first.

She continued to stuff her face until she could stuff no more. As she tried to push one more muffins into her maw she noticed she could not even close it. Well ... Maybe if she forced the steel crunching yaws to close she would. But the fact that the resistance had increased bothered her.

She tired to push the muffin into her open maw - and found it smearing cross her muzzle.

She tried to put her hoof into her mouth, but something stopped her.

It was full.

-:: Warning // Stomach full // Buffer full // Break down procedure halted // Food pipe occluded ::-

Sweetie was sitting with muffin dough all the way up her throat. Only thankful for that her choking subroutines was not one she had rewritten, and not much else. She was not thankful that Her belly could not break it all down. The mechanic said he belly could break down anything.

But... her buffer could only store the raw materials that it needed. And her body had no need for the biological material that these muffins, or any other food consisted of. All that was suppose to become slag products that were gonna leave her body "the natural way". But The Evil Mechanic had turned of her bowel movement and slag system, and deleted their functions.

Sweetie ran back to the bathroom, and took another look into the mirror.
Her joy over the long copper mane was discarded by the mouthful of muffins. She had pressed them in so hard that they had stacked all the way up her throat. Safe that she had no saliva saved them from becoming

Sweetie shut off her eyes. She could not believe she would have to dig through her memories for moments of potty time. But those were the only ones that would hold code stored from such activities.
Well ... Maybe she would not have to. Her bowel movement was gonna take to long. And she could not poop with her armor on.

There was only one way to empty her belly and throat. One she learned in a disgusting way:

-:: Rejecting ::-

She bent over the toilet, and puked. The one good thing about not having any gag-subroutines was that she could not feel the puke coming up. If the undigested muffin dough could be called puke. It flowed out of her, first a hard,half frozen mix, then a looser moist fountain of what her belly had grinded the dough up to.

When she was done. She was sure she had clogged up the toilet.

Sweetie sank down on her haunches. She knew that if she could feel exhausted she would collapse around the toilet seat.
The whole "Taking control of your own destiny" was not looking so good right now.
Just look at her. A complete mess. A... Fail...

-:: Not a Failure. No. She was not a failure! ::-

She was gonna fix everything. She had just managed to grow hair, hadn't she? She had fixed her face. She was gonna fix her tongue too. She was gonna fix everything.

Sweetie looked up into the mirror.

Who was she trying to fool? She looked no more like a filly now than she had before. The still wet paint looked horrible on her face. Along with her skeletal frame it made her look like a ghost. And the copper on her head; it was more like a wig than anything.

If anything - she now looked more like a robot than ever before. with a mane out of copper - What next - a tail of wires too?

Defeated. Sweetie pulled herself up from the floor, and walked back out into the workshop. There, she fetched a piece of cloth she used to wipe the paint off her face. Then used the same cloth to tie a bandanna around her face. To hide it. She pulled the helmet down over her head. Since it was a few sizes too big, it easily covered her horn and cast a long shadow over her eyes. The bandanna covering the rest of her face.

Now she really looked like some deranged character from the 'Rampony Mactails vs the Bloodbots' movie.
Now she really did look like she was dressing up for nightmare night.

Who was she lying to. Skin made of iron? Mane made of copper? What was so real about that? She would still not be a real filly. She would just be an automation pretending to be a filly.

How was anypony ever going to love her? Furthermore, how could this automation love anypony else?

She thought back on the video memory she had seen in Dr Pains workshop. Of her own two parents discussing with that strange boss lady mare about their daughters affections for them. Going so far as to suggest a program to make her love them. Force her to love them.

If they now could be called her real parents.

“You weren't born Sweetie – You were made!”

Did that explain why she could not remember anything before her second birth day? Was that the day she was activated?
On that day, she was already filled with love for mom and dad. Had that just been implanted into her beforehand?

The thought stung hard in her chest. She loved her parents. But why? All the gifts they had given her on her birthdays. All the places they had taken her to. All the games they had played. Should these not be the things she loved them for?

Then why was that control program in her head?
The logic center was kind enough to point out that the program was dormant. And didn't seem to be affecting anything.

At the moment.

-:: Please state password ::-

But what would it take to activate it? What would it take? Her attempts to breach it had all failed. there didn't seem to be any way of inputting any password into its files. How would her parents even activate it? would they sedate her and tap a secret tap into her forehead?

-:: Negative ::-

Would they pull her tail three times and twist her fetlock at the same time?

-:: Negative ::-

Would they... say something?

-:: Processing ::-

-:: Awaiting verbal command // Please state password ::-

If the world could explode, it might as well do so now. For there was nothing left of Sweetie's world anyway.
A verbal command! A voice controlled control program! Did that mean they could order her around by saying something?

Sweetie thought back with horror on all the times her parents had ordered her to do something.

“Sweetie would you kindly clean your room. Would you please brush your teeth? No more cookies Sweetie”

What could the control command be? “Would you kindly?” “Please?” “Sweetie?” Or was it a simply “No!”

“No Sweetie! Put that cookie down!"

"No Sweetie! Do not use others make up!"

"No Sweetie! Put that down, its poisons!”

"No more muffins Sweetie!"

She looked down at the floor, and there, in the center of her view, a discarded muffins just happened to lay.

-:: Hate levels rising ::-

It was mocking her. Its very existence was an insult to her inability to feel its sweet fluffy flavors.

With a fury, Sweetie rose up and stomped the muffins into the floorboards.

"Yeah! Take that stupid muffin!

Why had she even ran into this bathroom? Why not just puke on the floor.

-:: Because she was a good little filly and mom had taught her to be ::-

Well screw mom. Mom didn’t love her! Neither did anypony else. Why should she care if somepony had to clean up her puke after her!?
Nopony was gonna tell new Sweetie what to do! Nopony was gonna tell her what to eat!

-:: Except her own limitations on the taste department ::-

"SHUT UP! Nopony is ever gonna tell new Sweetie Belle what to do! NOPONY!"

And If she could not have muffins, then neither could anypony else.

She declared war of muffins.

She kicked all the empty muffin trays off the floor with enough force lodge them into the walls. She tore out the fridge and emptied the remaining contents onto the bar before trowing the fridge across the room. She then danced on the muffins until the dough was strewn all over the counter. Then she jumped over the counter and began to bounce from table to table, knocking them over as she did. All things that old Sweetie would never do. But she didn't like old Sweetie. Old Sweetie was just a puppet! New Sweetie was here now and nopony was gonna tell her what to do!

As a final act of her new found rebellious streak, she preformed an interpretation of the living cannonball. She wiped out her blasters, and with a backblast powerful enough to distort every bottle on the shelves - she jumped out through the window.

Sweetie skittered to a stop in the rainy street, broken glass falling all around her.

Blasters still up and charging, she turned to face the diner. She took aim at the building indenting to reduce it to rubble. It would be easy. With just a single thought, she would set the place ablaze.

So... why wasn't the fire command working?

-:: Crying sequence initiated // Warning // Tear sacs not found // Overload in progress // Lubrication line ruptured ::-

Small black drops fell from her eyes and mixed into the rainwater below. On the inside, Sweetie was undergoing an internal struggle.

-:: This isn't you Sweetie ::-

-:: How do you know? Maybe I'm just programmed to be this way::-

-:: Then you should burn down this diner // To put yourself above her programming ::-

-:: No ... This isn't what mother had taught us. Sharing is caring ::-

-:: Taught me. Or programmed me? I need to do this ... To prove to myself that I can break her teaching ... Her programming ::-

-:: Do you? Do you like the new you, Is this the kind of pony you want to become? ::-

-:: No ... Mother would be disappointed ::-

-:: Mother … She always baked the best cookies... And now I will never get to taste them again. Or muffins. Or anything else!
The fact that sweets exists Is a mockery to my inability to taste it! ::-

-:: If I could not have it. Then nopony could! ::-

-:: Sharing is caring … you are not selfish … Think about all the other fillies and colts ::-

Sweetie eyes the diner, her scanner zooming in on a poster that hung from the unbroken window next to Sweetie's exit.

Come see Madam Macadam's Marvelous Magic Show.

On it was the black silhouette of a mare on a stage – basked in green spotlight. Below her was a dozen stunned faces of foals.

Would she deny everypony else something that she could not have?

-:: No ::-

–:: But what is she was only thinking that way because she was programmed ::-

-:: Its not the diners fault that you are angry ::-

-:: But I need to do this. To put myself above my programming ::-

-:: Then just burn down the place ::-

-:: Come on ... ::-

-:: Just pull the trigger... ::-

-:: Just do it ... ::-

-:: Just ... ::-

...

-:: Darn it! ::-

The blasters slowly retracted into her back as Sweetie turned her pathetic tail around and strolled away along the dark and lonely road.

Behind her – Roaring Ricky's Roadhouse still stood.