G5.01: Cost of Employment
James huddled against a canvas sack more than twice her size, trying very hard to think of nothing at all.
Her first visit to the ground had started so wonderfully! Take away all the terrible bits, and the visit had been great. She'd learned much more about the native technology and culture, learned things that living in the clouds had failed to teach her. She'd learned the natives had coal mining, blacksmithing, mass production of steel, and probably the telegraph as well. She'd learned that all the food she ate up in the sky probably had a mundane source much closer to what she would've expected. She'd learned that along with a frighteningly similar language, the ponies had a disturbing level of cultural overlap with ancient Earth. Add in a lot more leather and some guns, and she could've been walking around in a cultural reenactment of the Old West.
But James hadn't had the chance to linger on all of that. Information that might've occupied her speculation for days was now relegated to some dim corner of her memory, replaced by the agony and heartbreak of a pony not much older than she was. The colt hadn't been lying—James had been able to smell the similarity between them. Not that she needed to, when they had so much visually in common.
What the hell did the earlier generations get themselves into? James did not have to wonder how she might have ended up looking and smelling exactly like an existing pony. Why did you kill a native? James wasn't a diplomat; she wasn't the one meant to be getting her hooves dirty representing Earth and making first contact. Even so, she knew enough to know that killing one of the aliens was about the worst mistake any of them might make. What were they supposed to do if they turned the native population against them? Conquer the planet? Give up? I need a minute to set up the communicator and ask.
The Forerunner probe was not required to volunteer information. It was, however, required to answer direct questions, so long as doing so wasn't calculated to seriously impact the likelihood of mission success. What happened that was so disturbing you thought I shouldn't be told about it? she wondered. Was learning Eoch pointless? Are the aliens going to hate us no matter what we do, thanks to the mistake of people who died before I was even instanced? And then, in the darkest corner of her mind, she wondered something else. If the Forerunner can't be friends with Equestria, will it try to conquer it instead?
James was pretty sure it was supposed to give up long before that. Their mission of exploration was meant to find humanity new friends out among the stars, not create new enemies. Even so, she couldn't be completely sure. James had not been required to study every contingency the Forerunner could take.
"Hey, are you feeling better?" Dust nudged her softly with one wing. "We're safe now. I'd like to talk."
"Sure." James uncurled, shaking herself out and rising to her hooves. The boxcar was already starting to stink with their stench—there was no air conditioning in here, and the desert all around them was scorching hot. I should probably be watching out the window to get a look at as much of this country as I can. The diplomats could use that information one day. "I can talk." She sat up on her haunches, relieved that at least she wasn't shaking anymore. If she tried very hard, she ought to be able to keep herself calm through this conversation. Please don't put me back in the basement. I don't want hay I don't want hay I don't want hay...
Dust leaned in a little closer, her voice harsher. "That colt looked like family. Was he?"
"Well genetically he's a family member, probably a direct descendant. A thousand Encred says he's a perfect match for mitochondrial DNA. If you have mitochondria... and they're anything like ours..." James trailed off, realizing she'd just answered entirely in English. She couldn't help but feel grateful that Dust wouldn't be able to understand. Every bit of the truth was probably more than the pegasus could handle, anyway. "Not... really. You'd say no."
Dust kept staring, expression unmoved. "So why not just say no?" She had already removed her saddlebags, now she dragged them forward with one hoof, so they were beside her. "La armilo you used al la Reĝa Gardisto, ĉu vi uzis ĝin al Morning Dew? Did you kill her?" She didn't sound suspicious so much as worried. As though some part of her believed the answer might be yes.
James shook her head vigorously. "I've never killed anyone! I study words, Dust! I don't fight."
Dust shrugged. "You fought sufiĉe bone antaŭe. Switch out the armilon, kiu igas ponies fall over with one that kills them..." She trailed off. "The monsters on the poster, do you know anything about them? Do they have anything to do with why everypony thought you were a dead pony, kiu reviviĝintas?"
No getting around that one. James would not lie to this pony, as much because she seemed like the sort who would be able to tell if she was lying as because she owed Dust the truth. No hay no hay no hay... "I know about them," she began. Dust opened her mouth, but this time James forged ahead, her words tumbling out in a rush. "They're peaceful, Lightning Dust! They would never hurt ponies! They don't take them away, either! That's movie stuff—they didn't need a live specimen to dissect to grow our bodies, just a few swabs or tissue samples! They could've gotten those by stealing a hairbrush. They wouldn't have done anything to Morning Dew. I don't know what happened in that town, but I'm sure it was a misunderstanding."
James stopped then, the world starting to sway with how short of breath she'd become as she got everything out in one long sentence. She'd probably switched to English for bits and pieces of it, but just now she was too stressed to know how much Dust might've gotten.
Enough, apparently. The pegasus visibly relaxed, nodding knowingly. "I scias ĝuste, kio that's like," she said.
Just now, James was too worn out to care much. Staring out the window and seeing shadows only just now starting to lengthen, it was hard to believe it wasn't even late afternoon yet. They didn't take me away. Dust protected me then. She won't let them put me back in a basement.
She felt a familiar pair of wings drape over her, bringing with them all the scent of safety. James didn't even care that Dust had been sweating too, didn't care how dirty she was getting or how little the other pony cared for her personal space. At least when it came to Lightning Dust, James had begun to accept the native way of looking at things. Modesty was an irrelevance in the face of feeling safe.
"There's something you're not telling me," Dust said. "But that's okay. I don't want you to have to lie. Kiuj ajn viaj monster friends are, I won't judge them sen aŭdanta ilian flankon de la rakonto. I won't be like the rest of Equestria. But... when you're up to it... I do want aŭdi ilian flankon de la rakonto. Okay?"
"Okay," James squeaked. "C-can it... not be today? I'm... I dunno how much more I have in me, Dust. Running like this... I'm not really cut out for it. Explorers... lots of better explorers than me. I'm just supposed to be good with words." That, and she didn't know the answer to what had happened. The Forerunner would know. Hopefully, when she got a moment alone to get her gear back out, it could tell her.
"Sure, kid," Dust said. "You go ahead and rest. We've got a long ride ahead of us. Mail trains don't go rekte kiel pasaĝeraj ones do." She released her, opening her saddlebag with one hoof and offering James a bruised apple in her mouth. "'Ere."
James waved her off, wincing at how beaten up the apple had become. "I got something else," James said, turning back to where she had shrugged out of her own saddlebags. She had to open them slowly with her mouth, moving deliberately until she finally got the plastic latch to open. She dumped the contents out of the whole bag, a dozen nutrition bars and pouches of water glittering in their Mylar wrappers. "I got some food too!" Not very much, unfortunately. But the nutrition bars would be a wonderful luxury while they lasted.
Dust dropped the apple, and it rolled away from them down the metal car. "Your... messenger... brought you all this?" She looked between the pile and the plastic box. "Must have. You weren't hiding it in the cloud, it would've fallen. No spells on any of this."
James lifted one of the packages, gripping the uneven ridges in her teeth and yanking the wrapper open. The bar threatened to spill out, but she caught it in her teeth. She offered it to Dust, just as Dust had offered her the apple. "’Ry it!"
The pegasus sniffed at the offered nutrition bar, before taking a large bite, big enough to take off over half the bar in one bite. She chewed slowly, eyes wide. Her whole body visibly relaxed as she ate, a smile spreading slowly across her lips. "Mhmmmm."
James opened another bar, savoring the taste as it filled her mouth. After spending so much time eating fruits and vegetables that were only somewhat fresh some of the time, the simulated "pulled pork BBQ" was about as wonderful a thing as her tongue had tasted since she had switched from hay to the pony version of a burger. Nutrition bars always had an unnatural aftertaste to them, a background twinge of just how chemically engineered they really were under the surface. Even so, the food science behind what she was eating was easy to ignore when she was so hungry.
Nutrition bars couldn't compete with freshly cooked food made by a real chef, but they were a good contender against what the two of them usually ate.
"Sweet Celestia," Dust said, any trace of her previous anxiety gone. "I've never tasted anything like that in my whole life." She stared down at the pile of food packets with barely contained hunger. "What was that?"
"A time-release nutritional ration," James answered. "Tailored to the specific needs and tastes of my specific biosleeve. But obviously since we're the same species we'll share some tastes in common, I—" She'd switched to English again. She took a breath, trying again. "It's, a... magic food. One of these and you don't get hungry for an entire day. Well, I won't. They were sized for me, and you're bigger, so you will still need to eat a little. This flavor was..." She picked up the other wrapper, turning it over so she could read. "Hamburger mac and cheese flavor."
Dust stared, more enraptured than she had been by the communicator two nights ago. "Equestria needs 'hamburger mac and cheese'. Do you know the recipe? We could hire a unicorn to make it for us. There are lots of skilled unicorns in the Crystal Empire." She stood up, pacing away, then stopped walking. "You're right, Lucky! I don't feel hungry anymore! That tiny little snack, and I'm full!" She turned back around. "Imagu what the Wonderbolts could do with magio kiel ĉi tio? A whole day, you said?"
Dust reached down, picking up one of the bars with a single hoof. James watched with barely contained envy—it was true, the frog of her hoof was quite sensitive. Unfortunately, she didn't have anywhere near the dexterity for fine manipulation like that. "Two hundred grams. Fill a pony's saddlebags with these, and she could probably fly across Equestria without needing to land!"
James smiled. She didn't want to break Lightning Dust's sudden good mood by telling her that the nutrition bars required advanced chemistry and were certainly many years beyond what ponies could create. Then again, the Forerunner might be able to give me a recipe that would taste similarly. I wonder where we could get the ground beef.
* * *
Olivia Fischer rose from her biofabricator with nearly as much confidence as she had ever demonstrated during her decade in ISMU. She took shelter in her routine, even though everything she saw in front of her was a reminder that her ordinary routine would no longer hold.
Forerunner Landfall Shelter had been built with a floorplan not unlike the one she'd been familiar with on many a small spacecraft and remote station. She could take peace in that as she moved through the empty base, walking on four legs that ended in stumps and painfully aware of a tail swishing back and forth behind her as she moved.
It was strange just how fresh her memories seemed. Past her frightening revival within the fabricator, Olivia could practically still see the interior of Our Lady of Hope Memorial Medical Center, filled as it was with scanning equipment and so many cables that a few others had tripped in her presence. Olivia herself had still been hungover from the night before, and the searing lights overhead had only made her headache worse. Her very last memory before sitting down in the machine was the relief from the sedatives they used before she was brought into the machine.
I was supposed to wake up in a hospital and go back to work. But she hadn't. She hadn't even woken up in her own body. Olivia knew with absolute certainty that she would never see her own body again. She would probably never even get to see her own planet again, except through a telescope. Her family, her colleagues in the ISMU, they were all gone forever.
Staring into an animal face covered in yellow fur—feeling the blue hair and tail, examining the strangely colored eyes, all that might've driven a lesser soldier to insanity. At the very least, it would've broken their will to fight, made them useless for anything more than cleaning toilets and serving meals in the mess hall. But Major Olivia Fischer was to ordinary soldiers what those men and women were to civilians. No matter how frightening, no matter how hopeless her situation seemed, she would endure.
The damn eggheads did it. They landed a probe on another world. Someone won a goddamn Nobel prize for this. The worst part was that she wouldn't be able to give whichever nerd had thought it was a good idea to allow the machine to make her into... whatever she was... a fist to the face. Or whatever these limbs were.
Olivia remained in the bathroom for at least an hour, until she figured out a way to strap the clippers to one of her legs and shave the hair from her head to regulation length. It didn't look anything like the way it should, growing only from a strip through the middle of her head and down her back. She did the same to her tail, cutting it to a short, uneven blue length that she bound with a length of elastic cord. That done, she could finally don the uniform fabricated for her, its breathable fabric printed in a desert camouflage pattern and complete with openings for each of her strange body's extra limbs. There were no boots, but she suspected omitting those was more to do with retaining even a small amount of dexterity with her stumpy limbs. How the hell am I supposed to shoot like this?
Olivia had only read the Pioneering Society Handbook with the dedication required to pass the admissions test. A test that would raise her effective salary to that of a Lieutenant Colonel without any increase in duties or being removed from the field and locked into a desk job to rot. It had seemed almost too good to be true, that all she had to do was read a few books, take a few tests, then visit the hospital for an afternoon.
Fuck you, Major Olivia Fischer. I hope you enjoyed those extra 10,000 Encred a month. I hope you had the most fucking amazing life ever. But now you're fucking dead and I'm a sideshow attraction.
Landfall Shelter was built like a wheel around a central spoke, with a round hallway surrounding the core. Olivia still remembered enough to know the core was where she belonged when she was finally ready, as it was the place the Forerunner could communicate with her most directly. It was there she would discover why she'd been created, there she would finally begin her mission. At least there was a gigantic monitor at just the right height for her to look at without having to crane her neck.
"Forerunner," she began, keeping her voice calm and flat. It still sounded high and childish, with a melodic quality her own gruff voice had never possessed. She sounded like the sort of women she usually mocked. "I'm ready for a mission update. Please be as concise as possible."
A Forerunner probe wasn't a person, Olivia remembered that much from studying the manuals. It would not respond to the same sorts of social pressures that would've motivated a human. It couldn't be convinced, pressured, bribed, or manipulated. Exactly the sort of CO Olivia had never had the pleasure of working under. Maybe being an astronaut will have a few perks.
It also didn't have to spend any of its time thinking. "Command accepted, Major. Mission Status Update. Landfall on alien world KOI-087.01 occurred approximately one decade ago. Construction of basic facilities continued on schedule for the next two years, eight months—"
She cleared her throat loudly. "I said to be as concise as possible, Forerunner," she said, annoyed. "I don't need every piece of history. Only give me what I need." Just as the probe was not a person, weak to all the usual suite of human failings, it also couldn't get offended or annoyed with her. There was no reason to treat it like anything other than a tool. A tool with the power to create life from almost nothing. An idiot God. Unfortunately, it was her idiot god.
"Colonization failed. You're here to make it not fail."
Olivia swore under her breath, grinding her teeth together. "Maybe... a bit more than that."
No more hesitation than before. "Previous generations of human bodies proved unsuccessful for scientific reasons," the probe said. "No shielding mechanism devised proved effective at combatting these effects. Samples have thus been taken of the alien beings who inhabit KOI-087.01. This has proven successful—at this moment, a linguistics team is on assignment developing a translation to the native language. In the meantime, your team has been assigned to gather further information about the object KOI-087.01, and to perfect a design for future human colonists capable of surviving here. When the translation of this planet's alien language is complete, you will conduct diplomacy as proscribed by SPSH Guideline 13.E."
"My... team...." she repeated. "I don't see a team. Are they already on assignment?"
"Negative."
She tapped one of her stumps on the ground, impatiently, but the computer didn't get the hint. "Where is my team, Forerunner? Those sound like civilian-type jobs. Why did you need me?"
The Forerunner spoke in an even synthesized voice, slightly lower than she was used to, with an emotional cadence that remained identical no matter what it was explaining. It could be telling her about the brutal murder of her own husband and children (if she'd ever had them), and it would still sound the same. "Homesteading KOI-087.01 has proven difficult to previous generations of explorers. The threats previous teams encountered might have been resolved with the skills and organization of a leader with military experience.
"To that end, you were instanced exactly one week before your teammates. This means the accelerated aging process meant to bring your body to full physical maturity was not allowed to complete, but your age is within the acceptable margin you established on your application. This interval will allow you to familiarize yourself with the environment, as well as conduct whatever reconnaissance you deem necessary."
Olivia cleared her throat again. "Excuse me, I forget. What age margin did I establish on my application?"
"'Whatever the fuck I don't give a shit,'" the Forerunner responded, in an exact recording of her old voice. "This same value is present on numerous fields on your application."
Olivia imagined punching her old self squarely in the nose. True, she couldn't imagine taking any more time filling in pointless paperwork that was only intended to give her a modest boost in salary. Yet even still, hadn't she realized a real person would be made to pay for her sloth? No, because I didn't think they had a chance in hell of landing a probe. It was just some technocrat's pet project, and she'd just been taking advantage of the effort to scan some skilled soldiers.
"I understand," she said, forcing her expression to clear again. "Will I be able—"
The Forerunner cut her off. "Before you begin, I have a decision requiring your attention. Since instantiation began, additional information arrived confirming the last generation's translation team had survived and was successfully progressing in their mission. Your team includes one translator meant to fulfill the previous team's role. I require your permission to terminate their fabrication."
Major Fischer very nearly granted it without thinking. But where Olivia's understanding of the tactics of the SPS was significant, her grasp of the technology was far weaker. "You're asking for my permission to... kill them?"
"Answer involves subjectivity," the probe responded. "But the crew-member's body is as developed as yours, and fully functional. Unfortunately, the synthesis of brain-matter was nearly complete at the time this information was discovered. Were this not the case, a more useful individual would've been chosen instead."
"I can give them a new job, right?"
"Affirmative."
Olivia waved one stumpy limb through the air. "Then I don't give you permission to terminate them. Whoever they are, they should suffer with the rest of us. No getting to escape duty, they'll have to serve their time too."
"Input accepted."
"Now, I want detailed reports on every physical threat previous crews have encountered and how they were handled," Olivia said, sitting down in front of the screen. "No rush this time, I want every detail. Anything that might be helpful to know to protect my team. Oh, and..." She pointed with one leg at the last of the biofabricators, the one that was dark inside and lacked the constant readout of health information printed on its surface. "I want that pod going. I want all the pods going from now until we complete our mission."
"Command accepted. What crew member should be instantiated?"
She shrugged. "Whoever I need most at the time you have an empty slot to fill. You have more information than I do, so you can make that call."
"Input accepted."
Across the room, Olivia could hear fluid running through buried machinery. She did not need to understand the mechanism of the probe to know it would obey her orders, so long as it could. The Forerunner had placed her in charge of this mission. That meant she could pursue it her way. "Now, what I said before. I want to see how every previous encounter with... if there's a translator, that means there are people living on this planet? They look like me then, right?"
"Affirmative. KOI-087.01 possesses at least five sapient races, perhaps more. Constraints of travel have hitherto prevented an exhaustive search and profile. It is possible that the species of your present biosleeve is not the optimal choice for first contact. A long range subsonic aircraft has been prepared for exploration purposes and is waiting for you in the hanger."
"Excellent!" Olivia rose from her haunches, stretching her limbs one at a time. The sitting position had felt quite natural for her body, but a steel floor was much too firm to be comfortable. "I'll go and..." She trailed off, realizing something. It didn't give me the report. It hadn't even been the first time she asked. True, she'd asked for several bits of information at once. Maybe it just hadn't wanted her to be overwhelmed.
"Forerunner, please give me a detailed report on all previous encounters between your old crews and the native life on this planet. Every relevant detail."
There was a second's hesitation, sluggishness in the probe's response compared to each previous answer. Olivia remained standing where she was, defiant. She wouldn't be getting distracted this time. "Revealing all data would have a significant adverse impact on odds of mission success."
"What?" She stared at the screen, mouth hanging open. "Are you refusing to obey my order?"
"Negative. Your order cannot be obeyed as it would significantly reduce the calculated odds of mission success."
Olivia marched up to the screen, glaring at the glass as she might a subordinate officer on a dangerous mission. Her scowl had moved men twice her weight to action in the past. Her anger had frightened dictators and presidents alike. Now, though... she could see her own reflection in the glass. She looked like some rich girl's genetic pet. She didn't stop glaring, though. "Don't you think that protecting my team from the risks of life on this planet might be difficult if you won't give me the information I need to assess what those risks are? What do our odds look like when the leader you chose doesn't know what she's doing?"
"You have the authority to override the orders given by a previously instanced officer. Know, however, that I calculate a 5.8% drop in the odds of mission success if you do so."
Major Fischer opened her mouth to snap back at the Forerunner, but hesitated last second. "I will... hold that option in reserve." She sat back down on her haunches. "You must be allowed to tell me something at least, right? Why don't you explain everything you can that doesn't involve an override?” She sat back down in front of the screen.
"Command accepted," the Forerunner said. "The first encounter occurred during generation one..."
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In other words, "we screwed up bad"
Still though, I wonder what the computer's basing its 5.8% drop on, since it seems that the mission CO knowing all relevant information would improve mission odds, especially if it's, say kidnapping/murdering locals/each other bad!
Awwww, it seems we won't get to hear what happened.
You know, I'm not so sure the Forerunner is entirely AI. I get some major Space Odyssey vibes from it, freakin' creepy.
ok we now have a commander of he mission Olivia Fischer,
now I wonder how this will affect James and if it can with him heading to the frozen north.
8238358
There's a lot of things in Equestria that a purely scientific society wouldn't be able to account for. I wouldn't be surprised if the probe came down with something since landing, something with a "mission" of its own...
8238363
It reminds me of the sci-fi horror trope in which the AI is in fact just manufactured, but it's very good at hiding its own developed sapience.
Regardless, I hope to see more exposition regarding the Forerunner itself, as I'm more than a little suspicious of its upbringing.
G3.01 and G4.05 are both James', I wonder who G5.01 is.
It's quite obvious that previous generations died with horrible death, also it's not much hard to find out about Appleloosa attack, I wonder what else is worth being hidden. Maybe something that would break their trust to computer? Or some eldritch thing that can get you just by knowing it exists? Or computer is just being overly cautious and it's not worth being hidden?
I have to say, this fic is rapidly becoming one of my favorites. Actually, it already is; it just needs to get rid of its "incomplete" tag.
Anyway, I absolutely love the pace at which new world building and character development is dished out. It strikes a nice balance between the two. Now that we have the perspective of at least one other human!pony, pieces start to fall into place. And since the new-generation-James was mercifully (a dubious mercy, though) not terminated, there's the potential for interesting James-James interactions. Can't wait to read more.
8238363
No, I think Forerunner is another HAL 9000: it is following its programming, but since several of the A.I´s directives contradice each other it has adopted some "lateral thinking" in order to solve the conflict between them.
So this Forerunner revived... a military person - what appears to be a stereotyped foul-mouthed no-nonsense military person to boot! - ... to help conduct peaceful diplomatic measures... on a planet whose natives have presumably been killed AND poisoned by humans and human tech, in that order. And now it's refusing to tell her of what exactly it's done in the past.
Crap.
For all her claims that the probe is an idiot god, it sure seems like it can mock well enough.
That said, that is as concise as possible, so perhaps it is following the order to the best of its ability. Then again, isn't the mark of an advanced intelligence able to fulfill its orders to the letter and mock successfully? At least, we think so when we apply that kind of logic to sarcastic assistants like butlers.
wat
I think these words are same, and James said them as Equestria language so that Lighting Dust knew it is magic food.
So why do these words are not English in sentence? :P
( I just kidding , because I know it is difficult to simulator language gap. )
Am i paranoid but does that answer only point towards "authority override" effects not the effects of the said truth which (Theoretically) follows? 5.8% drop might be due delays after forceful termination of cycle to prevent mission degradation.
Follow up question would be: "AI, define mission success..."
Edit:
Suddenly thought a movie .. Oblivion .. Tom Cruise is a clone.
8238434
You'd think with the tech to make full grown ponies and implant human minds the system could engineer some genetic variance.
8238452
The problem with that is knowing what part of the genome you could safely change while still creating a functional organism. A vast majority of alterations to the base DNA would either show no effect or be a fatal/crippling mutation. You would need multiple samples to run comparisons between them or a huge amount of trial and error before you could vary the genetic code safely.
Am I reading this right? Olivia was produced younger than the other G4s? So, is she the same age as Lucky? That seems likely to both turn out important later, and cause her a lot of annoyance in the meantime, once all her subordinates turn out to be adults while she's stuck as a child...
Also, the next pod pony is G5.01 instead of G4.06? G4 didn't have any mentioned flaws, so will G5 be a different species?
I wonder if Olivia's phrasing on "whoever I need most at the time" will end up with G5.01 being yet another instance of James. Technically, communications is what she needs the most right now, isn't it? Her instruction mightn't allow the probe to take into account already active or incubating people.
So Olivia told the AI it's okay to have more than one of the same person running around at once. Immediately after this, she told it to make tons and tons of people.
This cannot possibly go wrong.
hallalua! and no worries, the fact that your working on your vacation should be enough for most people, i love this story. so very very much
Man, Olivia has got to know that she's just got handed a crapsack of an assignment.
Apologies aside I thought it was a good chapter.
The major isn't one I would have thought would be sent on this mission. Then again.... 10k credits a month sounds pretty good.
I suppose it takes all kinds sometimes. Especially for a low end political pet project. Not to say I haven't seen any like her in the Navy. But it happens I suppose.
Colonization doesn't sound friendly at all.
My money is on simple part failure and incompatible environment for the Forerunner errors. A bad chip set or a warped disk might have lead to personality damage of the previous teams or the AI's odd calculations. If the fabrication process was not at fault for the past failures maybe a factor in Equestria's environment causes mental problems for the instanced Humans as a rouge allergy.
8238504
Well let's be honest reproducing alien lifeforms AND implanting memories into the brain would require an extensive understanding of the genome. If the computer can produce multiple clones and accelerate the ageing process then slow said process back to normal, it having dissected the genome enough to at least change colors seems just as believable.
8238581
Without knowing the exact way that the computer implants the mindprint, you can't really say that involves altering the genetic code. It's certainly possible that pony brains are similar enough that it just uses the same process it did for human brains. Reproducing the bodies would require no knowledge of the genome, just an analysis of the nutrients required. Given a stimulus, DNA and totipotent stem cells will replicate themselves into a new organism.
The accelerated aging depends on how it's done. A physics-based, time dilation effect would require no understanding of the genome. A physiological based effect would require extensive knowledge of either their genetics or the pony endocrine system. Given the limited time frame and genetic samples the second seems unlikely.
At least next time James calls back to base he'll have a human to talk to. Of course, if it has the same voice as him . . .
8238527 That explains why there might be more than one copy of James. I'd love to have a nutrition bar that tastes like hamburger mac n' cheese. It's a complete shame that if LIghtning Dust were to learn what the meat is made of, she'd be better off having the mac n' cheese.
8238569
It usually doesn't, just ask the Native Americans.
Finally! Maybe now we'll find out what happened at first contact.
I'm betting on changelings, if not then it must have been whatever is in the atmosphere that humans can't handle, maybe it poisoned them or something, made them go crazy.
Awesome chapter!
Oh man this is going to be so funny!
Boy, with the commander on deck and starting to run things it does give me a question... For the prob to create a new body for us humans he had to get a sample from Merry Dew which she was only pony we know that the prob has DNA from. But here's the question... Is everyone going to become Merry Dew since she's the only pony we have?
Boy, it's going to be confusing to tell who is who...
I hope or maybe not hope that the next chapter you keep the mystery of what happen at first contact went and give us hits to place pieces together till the end when the truth is revealed.
Unlike our protagonist, this biosleeve appears to have accepted that she isn't the original. James still thinks of herself as, well, herself. Not a newly created being. Even if she understands in an objective manner, she still hasn't accepted it fully. Olivia, however, has accepted it so much that she thinks of her original self as someone completely different. This is an interesting difference between the two. Something that I hope brings them into emotional conflict later.
8238375
No, no it doesn't. It needs to keep going and not suddenly finish. Let the man write, he might just get drawn in and write a novel length fic.
a 10 year old filly then gotcha
on another note I cant imagine that James needs to how would i put it keep things primitive to the ponies that they wouldn't understand technology I don't know, they have selective technology going on, they aren't that dumb
This reminds me so much of my encounter with Soylent Bars. They actually tasted quite good, I liked them. Luckily, I was not one of those few who suffered "severe gastro-intestinal distress" after eating them. I hope the company will eventually reformulate those and bring them back.
8238694
She'll have a pony to talk to, since there are no human body being grown. The ponies would have the same voice no matter what, except his will be younger sounding. Except maybe the commander, if she is as old as Lucky Break.
Hamburger mac and cheese is made out of people! People!
(Well... cows, but they're considered people in Equestria...)
'puter's got some 'splaining to do
8238694
lucky is mint, the new gal is yellow so presumably the probe has been um... assimilating someponies
8239770
I meant someone with a human mind and human knowledge.
8238419
That's because magio kiel ≠ magic food.
8238341
Especially considering Olivia is in charge of what will eventually be the diplomatic team.
8238697
The computer wrote James off as "probably dead", and started to make another copy for Olivia's team. According to what it told her, it wouldn't have made another copy of James if it knew the first one was still alive and on the job. But now there are definitely going to be two of them (the new one is aged to maturity apparently), and it's always possible there is another copy that the computer thought died, but really didn't.
It's also possible the computer chose Olivia because it wants to manipulate her decision making to its own ends: "whatever the fuck I don't give a shit" is the sort of order that gives the computer plenty of latitude in the way it carries out the mission, and it would know this personality trait from her files. Olivia does seem to be conscientious enough when she realizes the situation calls for it ... but she might not be the best at recognizing when that is.
8239916 You mean soylent?
8239925
This is Lucky:
68.media.tumblr.com/ae80b61b999ab3639c71778c5c41fc94/tumblr_oo4gziwXLu1rsmidfo1_540.png
Did she eat meat?
8238373
G5.01 has to be the military officer, Olivia Fischer. Also, pay close attention to the numbering. G4.05 is numbered that way because it is the 4th generation, and there are 5 people in it. The end of chapter 4 gave us the list of five names: Martin Faraday, Karl Nolan, Olivia Fischer, Dorothy Born, James Irwin. G3 has only James, and now G5 has only Olivia. But G4 has both of them, as well as three other people. So now there are going to be two Jameses *and* two Olivias. It's safe to say that this is going to be pretty complicated.
8240134
Personally, I thought it is crew index in generation, not general count:
But chapters maybe named after most great index, I dunno.
Assuming the first or second gen were human beings, it sounds like a strong possibility that they didn't react well to the... 'magic energy' for lack of a better term surrounding them leading to mental instability.