Hooves of Iron

by Shock34

Chapter 1 part 1

“On which field that we should see the first applications of true AI, you say? Well, discounting the military and academic, my guess would be in the entertainment industry. Video games, toys, shows and more. The audience of that industry is constantly demanding more than the stimulus-response pull string dolls of yesteryear. It shouldn’t surprise any of you considering human beings are a race of dreamers and in the coming years, we will see the covert become vulgar. The imagined made real. Let's only hope we are ready for it”

-Professor Kim Musashi, 2016 conference on AI
“You will soon have your God, and you will make it with your own hands”

-Morpheus, Deus Ex

Sparks hit the metallic limb of the toy maker as he made minute cuts into the metal, but he paid no mind to it; His mind was too absorbed with the task at hand to process a simple thing like pain. His glass green eyes whirled as he continued to use his Vulcan augmentation limb to both hold and work on his project.

The monitors above him flashed and dimmed as they displayed the charts and loading bars of the algorithm they were nursing. One of the two largest displayed a series of flickering videos with the bar “compiling” below them. Its brother displayed the 3D image of a human brain, bits of lights scanning the neurons as it continued.

With a final snap of metal and plastic, a faint smile appeared on the toy maker's face. Just need to install this last holographic bulb in and I should be fine for today. With quick precision, his metallic hand flipped inward as the metal casing opened and was soon replaced by a series of clamps, screwdrivers and various other instruments of creation.

With delicate care, he used two micro limbs to slowly open the socket while a third screwed in the delicate cargo that it carried. His eyes whined softly as he magnified his vision from x2 to x6. With a final twist and push, the bulb fell into place. The toy maker quickly turned the bulb slight to the right and was rewarded with a satisfying click. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he retracted his micro limbs back and wiped the sweat from his brow with his newly returned hand. The oak chair squeaked as he laid back in it, hands outstretched, as if to catch an unseen breeze.

He relaxed for a moment then proceeded to grab a nearby power cord and plug it into an outlet as he used his augment to open a compartment on his project. With one swift motion, he plugged the other end into his creation and was rewarded with a bright light. The toy maker's eyes strained as they compensated to take the new amount of light but adjusted after a second. When his vision cleared, a little purple foal lay before him on his workbench.

The foal had large animated eyes that were closed to give the appearance of sleep and a series of stars on her left leg. Purple hair from her mane and tail covered the fiber optic structure beneath. A proportional sized horn completed her features. Before him, clothed in metal and light, lay Twilight Sparkle.

The workbench rocked and caused the toy maker to jump. He quickly turned to the source of the disturbance. A white feline was perched on the side of the bench and was sniffing the horn of the offline foal. Its hind legs staged like springs, ready to pounce or run.

“Relax, this is just a diagnostics check. I haven't even installed her yet.”

The feline ignored him and continued to sniff suspiciously.

The toy maker let out a light laugh “Fine, have it your way, cat, but you better get used to her, She's going to be with us for a long time.”

He turned to one of the screens and smiled as the compiling rate started reaching into the 90s. He turned to the opposite screen that displayed the brain mapping process.

Tenderly, he touched the display, as if to somehow reach through it and into some unseen realm. His fleshy pointer finger traced the curves of the image and after awhile, pulled it back. He turned his head towards one of the three pictures that he always kept by his workbench and picked the first one up. The image of a little girl smiled back at him. She was at a party, having the time of her life. Several people surrounded the girl; her mother, her friends, all of which made the absence of one figure all the more noticeable.

“I'm sorry Jen but you know how it is, if we don't get this merger..”

The look on his wife's face was palpable “You're missing her life, every day you’re spending all your time working on the company, for the company, can't you call in sick or something?”

His face remained still as stone as his mind worked. “Jarod called in sick and unless we get this, we simply aren't going to get the project to work and we won't have a product to sell.”

His wife's face turned from anger mixed with concern to pity and self realization. “This has become a pattern with you.” She looked up, too tired to bring forth the emotion to bare. “You become so single minded and obsessed that you can't focus on anything else.” She let out an audible sigh. “When we were dating, it amazed me how attentive and caring you were and how it continued after we got married, but since you got project lead...”

The toy maker got down his knees and held his wife's hands “Look, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been there for you as much as I want to be. But I promise that I will make it up to you.” He looked back at his daughter, flying a kite in the bright sun before turning back. “To both of you.”

As he got up, his wife looked at him, those natural blue eyes that he fell in love with years ago. “She won't stay young forever,” she said prophetically.

He turned back to those blue eyes, and said, “I'll make it up to her,” before heading out the door.

Without looking, he then set the first frame back in its place and picked up the third. The image of the girl was pale white; the effects of fighting the disease that afflicted on her was wearing her down then, but still she smiled. It was the last week of her life and yet she still smiled.

“What do you mean she has leukemia?” He boomed, not caring if the consultants outside could hear him. “She is twelve for Christ sake!”

“Cancer doesn't discriminate” the monotone voice said flatly on the other end of the line. “Since she's been admitted, the growth has moved from her lymph nodes to her spleen, liver, and lungs. Does she have any other parent or guardian?”

The toy maker was still processing the previous facts when the question registered. “No, my wife was killed. The bus carrying her was blown up when one of the separatists groups set off those bombs.”

“Then I suggest you hurry, she doesn't have much time left.”

No wonder they hire bastards to do this job. The toy maker left the phone off the hook and ran out of his office, hoping it wasn't too late.

“Daddy?” she smiled weakly as he entered the room and he did his best to return it. The room was filled with colorful animals and toys. A few of them he recognized -- he designed them himself -- but all of them seem to contrast against the pale shadow of the child among them.

He moved slowly, as if the motion of the air itself might break her fragile frame until he was at her bedside. “Hey, how's it going?”

She gave a light smile and shrugged. Those beautiful blue eyes greeted him again. “Alright, I suppose. The doctors made me take a few tests but they won't tell me anything” she looked up at him “Am I going to be ok?”

The toy maker couldn't bear to give her the answer, so instead gave his own question. “How about you find your favorite toy and tell me about it?”

She paused, thought for a moment, she picked up one of the nearby toys, one of the latest brands and threw it aside. The toy maker let out a sigh of relief; he didn't design that one. She continued to root around the room until at last grasping a toy plushie. It had a small horn and a series of stars on it's hind leg. She lightly blew the little bit of dust off it and gave a series of small petite coughs before returning to sit down on the bed.

Puzzlement and confusion was apparent on the toy maker's face. “Why that one? It's a little old and bits of it are falling out.” he said, noting the hair and stuffing falling out of the doll.

“I like this one, she has heart.” She turned back towards him. “Can you make her talk like the others? I know you can do it”.

The toy maker paused for a moment, his brain coming up with plans, theories, and schematics, running through the possibilities, until reaching the solo conclusion. It was, unfortunately for him, a sad one.

“I don't think I can do that in such short amount of time,” he said, the words spilling oil slick of shame. His daughter's eyes dropped with disappointment.

“However, I’ll see what I can do.” he said, eying the plush doll. The smile returned.

“And if...” the girl looked down at the floor then at the toy again “if I go away like mom did, will you have her tell me good bye”.

Again, the question hit him like a punch in the jaw. Minutes passed that became hours until he gave his answer. He turned to the sleeping child and said, “I'll make it up to you, I promise.” She stirred in her sleep as she dreamed.

The toy maker wiped the moisture from his eyes and flicked it across the room. He still felt the dampness in his metal hand however, and tried his best to ignore it. He returned the third picture and picked up the second. The now fragile frame of the girl was set in a black metal casket. It pained the toy maker just to look at it as the memories came flooding back...

“I'm sorry sir but she isn't responding to any of our treatments,” the doctor in the white coat said coolly. “We pronounced her dead three minutes ago.”

The shock made the toy maker's head spin and he had to sit down. The doctor then continued.

“I would suggest you make family preparations and funeral arrangements, now if you excuse me.”

The doctor left the room, leaving the toy maker to fend for himself in the labyrinthine maze of the hospital. The toy maker wandered the halls, more like a specter or a ghost than a being made of flesh and metal.

“Yes, I know it's experimental but if you would just let me do it, just one map and we can have true AI!”

The voice and its content rang in the toy master's ear, bringing him out of the fog of his stupor.

“I'm sorry sir but unless you can get a family member to sign off on it, we can't do anything and I'm not going to allow the reputation of this hospital be jeopardized by some medical industry quack!”

The toy master turned towards the source of the argument. His electronic eyes twisting as they tried to recognize and then went wide as they did.

“Charles? From R&D?”

The younger of the two men turned towards the toy master. “Stephen?”

The toy master gave a light smile and stuck out his hand, Charles returned it with a friendly but firm grip. The toy master was the first to speak.

“I haven't seen you since you were quit R&D and started working on that start up of yours, How's it going?”

Charles pushed up his glasses sheepishly “Could be better, could be worse. I'm trying out a new project that involves brain mapping and applying it toward creating an AI, but so far I can't get the brain map that I need to get started.”

The fog in the toy master's brain started to lift. “AI? But everyone uses SI when it became apparent that the Turing test wouldn't solved by a machine for at least a few more decades. Hell, we even use SI in our products.”

Charles eyes lit up. “True but most AI research is on building a thinking machine from the ground up. Purely from a mathematical and formalistic programming approach. What mine does is simply bypass that by visualizing the brain via scanning the neural connections within it, effectively putting an image of the human brain within the context of a computer.”

The toy maker's mind was fully attentive now, the fog of a few minutes ago a distant memory. “So what's stopping you?”

Again, Charles pushed up his glasses “Well, the process can't be done on a living person as it causes the brain tissue to deteriorate at an extremely fast rate. It's a bug that I am currently working out, but as of right now, it can only work on corpses and can't seem record memories at all. Although, I see that more as a plus than a bug.”

The toy maker cocked his head to the side. “And why would that be a plus?”

“Well, when designing an AI, you don't want any variables that can influence the process, and memory is certainly one of them. Now this isn't usually a problem considering that the first thing to go in a dead brain is the memories. Granted, if we wanted to add memories we certainly do that. Certainly, you've heard of the forgotten soldiers?”

The toy maker frowned. “Yes, but I don't see how they have any to do with this.”

Charles gave a smirk. “Altering memories of GIs coming back from duty to help with their adjustment in the real world. Much less stress, cut the total of mental illness by three-fourths, gave them custom made memories that would make them employable in the real world.”

“And as past history has shown, very open for abuse.”

Charles gave a dismissive gesture. “Not my point. My point is we already have the technology; the code is open source, as your friend Lauren can tell you. It's there for anyone who wants it.”

Charles then looked back and forth. “Stephen, where's your daughter?"

“She's dead, Charles.” The coldness of the statement surprised even the toy maker.

Charles looked back up at him, the smugness quickly evaporating into pity.

“Stephen, I'm sorry.”

The toy maker was going to snap something back but a thought held his tongue.

“You think you will be able to use the brain map on her?”

Shock, bewilderment, and finally realization flashed across Charles's face.

“Your allowing me to…”

The toy maker nodded.

“Sure, just let me get my things. Thank you Stephen, I can't express how much this means to me”.

“Just one request.”

Charles turned back at the toy maker

“Give me the original brain map after you’re done with it.”

Charles's brow narrowed. “What are you planning on doing with it?”

The toy maker pulled out a toy that he was carrying. It wasn't his and it was old. Bits and pieces were falling out and there was a series of stars on one of the legs, but he held it tenderly in his hands before looking back up at Charles.

“Keeping a promise.”

The toy maker put the picture back on the shelf and picked up the nearby plush doll. It was nearly deflated and the cat had tried to get at it may times, but he held it in his hands for a bit before returning it to the shelf. His gaze then turned back towards the sleeping Twilight. He lean forward and put his augmented hand up to pet her limp form. His metal hand pierced the holographic shroud with ease and touched the metallic form beneath. He felt the thrumming of the power being exchanged and the computer systems humming as they finished their checks. He heard the light buzzing off the holographic emitters, projecting like they were supposed to. He smelled the faint whiff of ozone from when the holographic projection first engaged and he tasted the metallic particles still in the air.

He pulled back. So close... so close. He turned toward the screens above. He nodded as the computers were showing green across the board on system checks. He smiled as the screens show 100% compiled, and let out a good chuckle as one of the nearby consoles spat out both the original and the newly made copy of the brain map. He took the original and quickly pocketed it. He then lightly picked up the second one. His sight magnified to x2, x6 and lastly x12 before returning to their original setting.

“So this is what a soul feels like,” he muttered.

A nearby console started beeping, alerting him. He frowned and turned it on.

“Breaking news, entrepreneur Charles Savoyard has found dead in his home and his place of business burnt to the ground. Metro Police have announced that the group behind this attack is called the Vanguard. Proclaiming themselves as protecting humanity from encroachment from AI and other sources, they have put out several videos telling their followers to defend humanity through extreme action." The newswomen continued, blanked eyed as she continued with her script. "Blue Arms Protection Corporation have yet to comment on the matter beyond that as the investigation is still underway.” the camera moved out, revealing a roundtable with several people on the sites. “Here in the news room, we have a round table discussion on the topic on the explosion of paramilitary groups and what should be done about them."

The toy maker turned off the screen and absorbed what just happened. Why would anyone attack Charles? He was no threat to anyone. True, he was an ass, but there was still no reason to kill him. He slowly walked over to his bed, passed the entrance to his library and game room, and flipped over the underside. Below it was a hand print which he pressed his flesh hand against. The latch opened, revealing a selection of pistols and side arms. He took one out and checked the barrel. Satisfied that it was unloaded and clean, he took out a magazine from the box and propped it up on the table in the center of the room. He took the pistol with one hand and closed the container with the other. The computer beeped as it locked and he dropped the rest of the bed, hiding it completely. He stayed there for a good while, staring at the door. Expecting anyone to come barging in, guns blazing. On the table also sat the brain map copy. The ghost of his daughter and the “soul” of Twilight Sparkle.
This is ridiculous, I am leaping at ghosts, he thought after awhile. After the four hour mark, he put the gun in storage and the magazine within the casing of one of the many consoles in the room and he upgraded his security system to alarm him if anyone came within five meters of his door. Without any farther distractions, he picked up the brain map copy and walked closer to the sleeping Sparkle. The covert will become vulgar, the imagined made real. The thought came unbidden to the toy maker's mind and he quickly dismissed it.

“So what do you think Gepetto?” He asked the white ball of fluff perched on the one of the many shelves, “Am I Frankenstein creating his own monster? Prometheus bringing forth fire to humanity? Or just simply some loon who is going to learn the hard realities of life?”

The cat simply yawned and watched him with sleepy eyes.

“Eh, I thought you'd say that.”

He sat down and began his work. Disabling the holographic shield, he quickly pried up the compartment on the back of the head on the pony. For the first time on this project, his heart began to race. His naturally steady hands began to shake as he inserted the disk. It slid into place and was accepted a second later. The compartment door slammed shut, sealing it in place. The toy maker laughed; in a few seconds, his hard work would pay off.

“Warning! Power surged detected!”

The toy maker turned to see the cable still plugged into the sleeping Twilight. With quickness he didn't know he still had, he dove and pulled out the cable. As he did, the lights went out and there was a mighty crash as he collided with the wall of computers. He briefly dodged the onslaught of falling modems and desktops before the crash settled down and he let out a groan.

“Spike? Is that you?” a voice called out from the darkness.