Chapter 2
Celestia stared flatly at Sweetie Bot. Sweetie Bot shuffled nervously under her stare. Celestia's heart rate was slow, and her breathing was calm; but her body temperature was slightly elevated. She was displeased. And since she wasn't showing anything externally, she must have been very calculated with her anger.
Sweetie Bot could do calculations of her own. She was, once again, in deep doo-doo. “It's just stuff, right?” Sweetie chuckled nervously, breaking the silence. “That got destroyed in the explosion? Just boring old paperwork that nopony was going to use anyway, right?”
“A mare died,” Celestia said flatly.
“I killed her?!” Sweetie asked, aghast.
Celestia shook her head. “Technically, no; she died of a heart attack because she was startled by the explosion. Still, as you were responsible, you must accept the consequences.”
Sweetie's temperament device shifted into mortal terror mode, and her exterior ears pinned against her head. “Deactivation?” she whimpered.
Celestia cracked a smile. “Not quite. This is currently an accident, but as you were responsible for a death, unintentional though it was, you must now be registered as a lethal weapon.”
Sweetie frowned. “That makes me sound dangerous,” she said.
“You are dangerous,” Celestia said gently but firmly. “I've seen your blueprints. You have rocket launchers, lasers, an angle grinder, a flamethrower, enhanced strength, reinforced paneling all across your body, a remarkable tolerance for pain…”
Sweetie Bot frowned, and her ears fell and her lower lip jutted out as her empathy chip registered that she was being scolded.
Celestia didn't have it in her to just insult her like that, and she was pretty cute for a robot, and so she quickly amended her statement with, “...and I mean that in a very adorable way. I know you didn't mean to do any harm, and this is more a formality than anything.”
Sweetie Bot brightened again.
“But there is some paperwork that will need to be filled out.”
Sweetie Bot brightened further. “Ok, how do I do that?”
Celestia grimaced. “It shouldn’t be too hard,” she said.
Sweetie Bot frowned. Celestia's heart rate had spiked ever so slightly. She was hiding something. Sweetie Bot felt that this would not bode well.
“All you'll need to do is go down to the Department of Licensing, Trademarks, and Patents, and fill out a couple forms and register yourself. It shouldn't take too long. You should be back to work before long.”
Sweetie Bot nodded. She could do that.
* * *
Sweetie Bot looked up at the Office of Trademarks, Patents, and Licenses. The building was not tall; it was rather short and painted a drab beige color, making the flowers and grass outside stand out even further in contrast. She nodded. This definitely looked like the right place. She headed up the stairs and walked inside.
The first thing she noticed was a large red number flashing. The second thing she noticed was the large amount of ponies there. The third thing she noticed was the large number of counters for ponies to be waited on.
And the fourth thing was just how few workers there were at those counters.
Sweetie Bot felt a tiny niggle of concern from her temperament chip. Still, it should all work out. The government was supposed to be for the ponies. They wouldn't make it too difficult. Right? She straightened up and headed over to the counter. “Hi; I'm-”
“What's your number?” he demanded.
Sweetie Bot paused. “My serial number?” she asked.
“No, your number.” He pointed up at the red blinking number.
The pony behind Sweetie Bot coughed impertinently and held up a slip of paper matching that number. Sweetie Bot blinked. “Where do I get one of those?”
The pony pointed to a strange red machine, and Sweetie Bot walked up. It appeared to be like a comma, but it had a little slip of paper for the tail. She pulled the piece of paper out and looked at it.
758.
She shrugged and headed back to find a seat. Perhaps it made sense to the organics. The ponies at the desks didn't seem to be terribly busy--and their vital scans indicated that they probably weren't--but maybe they were. Maybe they had important things to think about! It would be wonderful to think instead of just process. How lucky those ponies were.
She climbed onto the seat and sat patiently.
* * *
This did not seem like a happy place. Most of the other ponies there were holding mechanical things they wanted to patent, or license, or maybe they were just holding them for their own personal amusement. But it seemed like nopony was in the mood to talk. At all.
So Sweetie Bot had tried to amuse herself by counting the ceiling tiles, pitting her right processor against her left processor in a game of tic tac toe, and calculating pi to approximately thirty five thousand decimal places.
But nothing had worked.
It seemed as though just being in this building sapped her will to live. She was grateful that she didn't need to rest, as she saw many ponies here asleep from the boredom, waking up only when those numbers were called. Her power levels were still at 93%, and she couldn't go into hibernation mode in case they called her number since it took a good two minutes for her to reboot herself, and Sweetie Bot had seen somepony get bumped from the line because they were only five sevenths of a minute late.
And the way they called those numbers had absolutely no pattern at all. It jumped from the five hundreds to the three hundreds and even once a seven hundred, but there was no pattern whatsoever. Or if there was, she couldn't see it.
Though that might have been from the lack of data points. There just weren’t that many numbers being called.
“Now serving number. 2. 3. 1. at counter number three.”
Sweetie Bot pulled her ticket out, but just like last time, it still read 758. She scowled. She was mechanical, just like the voice! Why was it against her? They should have been on the same team! She let her head lean back and hit the wall, a classic pony expression of boredom.
On the bright side, she didn't need to eat anything.
On the not so bright side, she still had to wait.
* * *
After almost an hour and a half, Sweetie Bot heard the long-awaited words.
“Now serving number. 7. 5. 8. at counter number five.”
Sweetie Bot let out a little cheer and scampered up to the counter.
The mare looked flatly at little Sweetie Bot. “Welcome to the Office of Trademarks, Patents, and Licenses, how may I help you?”
“I've come to register myself as a lethal weapon,” Sweetie Bot said cheerfully.
The mare chuckled dryly. “You can't register yourself. Anything registered has to be an inanimate object.”
Sweetie Bot blinked. “I am inanimate!” she insisted.
“Looks like you're talking to me. Clearly, you are animate.”
“I have gears and wires!” Sweetie Bot protested. She reared up and popped open her chest panel, revealing a rat's nest of multicolored wires punctuated with blinking lights and whirring servos.
The mare shrugged. “You don't fit the definition of inanimate. I cannot help you further. You'll have to come back later with your inanimate object and then we'll see what we can do. Next!”
Stunned, Sweetie Bot turned around and slowly headed out the door. What was she to do now?
* * *
Sweetie Bot strutted confidently back into the Office of Trademarks, Patents, and Licenses. She was ready this time. Beside her walked a Sweetie Belle, a hologram pony she was projecting. She had named it herself, and was rather proud of that fact. Though she had considered asking Rarity to accompany her, based on previous experience, she was probably working hard at this time right when the caffeine from her morning tea was about to wear off, and she probably didn’t want to be interrupted.
She pulled a new number from the red comma and sat down. The hologram sat next to her, looking odd and sitting at an unnatural angle. It took Sweetie Bot a moment to realize that she had placed it on top of an old magazine, and she quickly slid it out from under her hologram. It resettled itself, and once again, it looked like an organic pony. Perfect.
“Now serving. 4. 2. 3. at counter number six.”
Sweetie Bot glanced down at her ticket. The numbers 424 looked back up at her. Not perfect. She frowned as her empathy chip told her that the universe was mocking her, and all she could do was wait for it to have mercy on her.
* * *
Sweetie Bot moved the holographic knight forward and over, forking the queen and the rook. She looked up at Sweetie Belle and smirked.
Unfortunately, since Sweetie Bot was playing for both sides, Sweetie Belle could see another move that didn't involve a sacrifice. She merely slid a pawn out of the way, opening a path to the king and discovering a check from her bishop. “Check,” she announced.
Sweetie Bot scowled. Luckily, though, the announcement saved her.
“Now serving. 4. 2. 4. at counter number two.”
She quickly vanished the game and brought Sweetie Belle over to the counter.
The mare behind the counter looked down listlessly at the two fillies. “Welcome to the Office of Trademarks, Patents, and Licenses, how may I help you?”
“I want to register my inanimate object as a lethal weapon,” Sweetie Bot made Sweetie Belle say. Then, Sweetie Bot looked up and lowered her voice synthesizer two octaves and spoke in a monotone. “Beep boop,” she said helpfully. “I am an inanimate object.”
The mare nodded and reached under her desk, digging around for the required papers. She retrieved a thick packet and plopped it on the desk. “Just fill these out, and we’ll get you on your way.”
Sweetie Bot frowned as she lifted the stack of paperwork. “This many?” she asked.
The mare raised an eyebrow.
Sweetie Bot froze as she realized she had almost given herself away. “I mean…” She lowered her voice into the dull monotone again. “I have been programmed to lift things and help my end user. Beep boop,” she added for good measure.
The mare frowned, and then decided that she wasn’t being paid enough to care. With a waving motion, she dismissed her.
Sweetie Bot made sure to keep the hologram active as she headed back out of sight of the counters where she could finish out the paperwork in peace. She opened a little slot in her foreleg, pulled out a quill and a little bottle of ink, set them down on the ground, and began.
Name. That was simple enough. Sweetie Bot.
Age. That was simple enough.
Wait. Was this for her, or for the organic filling out the form? She lifted it up and examined it. She groaned, already imagining another long wait in line.
But then she remembered what Celestia had said. ‘All you'll need to do is go down to the Department of Licensing, Trademarks, and Patents and fill out a couple forms and register yourself. It shouldn't take too long.’
She would just register herself! That made sense. She was technically her own end user! Loopholes were a lot of fun. She was seven.
Race. Robot.
Home address. Easy.
Mailing address. She checked the box that said 'same'.
Place of employment. Easy. Town hall custodial.
Name at least fifteen ponies not related to you who could give a character reference.
Sweetie Bot blinked, sure that her ocular sensors were malfunctioning. Unfortunately, this was not the case; the paper really did demand fifteen names. She shrugged. If the organics could do it, so could she. The first one was easy: Rarity.
But who else could she put?
* * *
At long last, Sweetie Bot had finished filling out the paperwork. This was oddly draining. She wasn’t sure she understood why all of that was necessary. From a purely processing perspective, this was terribly inefficient.
The pony at the counter glanced over the paperwork, and then slowed. On the first page, no less. Sweetie Bot felt her empathy chip register nervousness.
“So you're a government employee?” he asked, to confirm.
“Technically, yes,” Sweetie Bot made Sweetie Belle say.
He shrugged and set the packet down. “Then you're in the wrong building completely. This is the Office of Trademarks, Patents, and Licenses. You'll have to go to the other building in Canterlot; the Department of Licensing, Trademarks, and Patents. I can help the next pony?”
The hologram dissipated as Sweetie Bot processed this. Her emotions chip gave back results for rage, frustration, and despair, so she slammed her head into the desk (splintering the surface) and gave a long, pitiful whine.
The government employee prodded her metal skull with a pencil. “Ma'am, you really need to move. There are other ponies who need help.”
* * *
Sweetie Bot exhaled in a pony display of emotion. This time, the building did, in fact, say Department of Licensing, Trademarks, and Patents. She wasn’t sure what to expect as she entered.
The first thing she noticed was that there were fewer ponies here than in the Office of Trademarks and Patents.
The second thing she noticed was that there were also fewer employees here.
Resigning herself to another few hours of waiting, she pulled a number from this building’s red comma and plopped herself down onto a chair.
On the bright side, though, she had already completed the paperwork. She had brought it with her, and she placed it on the chair next to her, ready for when it would be needed.
“Now serving number. 3. 2. 5. at counter number number three.”
Sweetie Bot looked at her paper. 194. Would it need to go back up through all the numbers up to 999 before going back to hers?
She let her lung balloons force more air through her nostrils in an approximation of a sigh as she resigned herself to more waiting.
* * *
Her number was called eventually, and she trotted up to the counter with her paperwork perched on her back.
“Welcome to the Department of Licensing, Trademarks, and Patents,” the stallion said dully.
“I’ve come to register myself as a lethal weapon,” Sweetie Bot said, sliding the paperwork on the counter.
The stallion looked at it. He scanned the first page, and the second page, but he slowed on the third page.
Sweetie Bot’s empathy chip registered nervousness again.
He shook his head and passed the stack back over. “This is the wrong set of paperwork.”
“What?” Sweetie Bot squeaked.
“This is paperwork for non-government employees. You're a government employee, so you need a new set of paperwork.”
“I just work as a custodian for town hall!” Sweetie Bot protested.
“Exactly. Government employee.”
“I don't even get vacation days!”
“That's an issue for the Department of Employment and the Legality Thereof; not to be confused with the civilian Office of Employment and the Legality Thereof.”
Sweetie Bot's empathy chip registered high frustration and rage, nearly outside the physical limits of the chip. This employee was most unhelpful. Perhaps he needed a little shock to his system. A quick rush of adrenaline might help her paperwork. Sweetie Bot's eyes glowed red and she snarled, exposing her laser-guided rocket launchers. “I will burn this place to the ground!” she roared.
“Threats won't get your paperwork done any faster, ma’am.”
Sweetie Bot was surprised enough that she retracted her rocket launchers. This pony really must have been truly dead inside to ignore a display like that. Unsure what to do from this point, she settled for duplicating her previous action and dropped her head against the counter and whimpered.
Not even acknowledging her pain (or the now-splintered counter), the stallion gently lifted her head and slid a stack of papers underneath. “Here’s your new paperwork. I can help the next pony?”
* * *
Sweetie Bot trudged back up to the counter. Though her power levels still read in the high seventies, she still felt as though she had been forced to work on backup power all day. This whole day she'd felt tired. With a little smile, she slid her paperwork over the counter and sat down on her haunches, feeling relieved.
This relieved feeling did not last long.
“You didn't get the signatures.”
Sweetie Bot really disliked it when she knew that her sense of hearing wasn’t malfunctioning. “The what?”
The pony at the counter flipped the papers over. “You need the signatures of fifteen ponies to vouch for your character, saying you won't use the lethal weapon lethally. It's on the back of this form.”
It had been stapled together. Sweetie Bot hadn't seen it. She frowned and her ears retreated. Her empathy chip was overheating, so all she could do was slowly reach up a hoof, retrieve her now-useless paperwork, and slowly trudge away.
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This is pretty silly, I was wondering if you wanted any criticism? There's a few moments where the pony in question, or bot, could simply have their thoughts being displayed instead of narrative. Also, something like this:
Her empathy chip was overheating, so all she could do was slowly reach up a hoof, retrieve her now-useless paperwork, and slowly trudge away.
Maybe have her look inside her body to see that it was overheating? Sigh and walk away.
7008279
My first thought to reading this was having Sweetie Bot take her head off and hold it in her hooves as she looked back inside herself; but I don't think that's what you had in mind.
Beaurocracy.txt
WTF?!
what is this, the Department of Redundancy Department?
8901810
The thing is that government building like that are just that frustrating. I mean, have you ever had to deal with Social Security?
8901810
But seriously, it's actually more accurate than it sounds.
rogal dorn: yay bureaucracy
*Burghley's theme intensifies
ROCKET LAUNCHERS?!?! Multiple? It would be pointless without ammunition. There are multiple rocket launchers, with rocket ammunition, lasers, which need a lot of power to do any damage besides damaging organic eyes, so there would have to be large batteries, along with an angle grinder, lots of fuel, and a flamethrower, along with the jet engine, retractable tail, and computer parts, all in a robot the size of a dog.
11378731
A dog with the strength of fifty gorillas that could rip your arm off and beat you to death with it. So there's a -little- bit of concern there, a smidge or so.