Born of Steel and Love

Telling where my story begins is difficult. I think it's when I was born, but that creates more issues. When is one born? When the first components are put together? When one thinks for the first time? When one becomes aware? In the first case, I'm born in a forge, under the pounding of hammers and the heat of the fire. In the second case, it's when my mother finished inscribing the last of the coppery runes in my plating. In the last case, well, I would prefer not to think about it.

Minuette carefully levitated the crucible away, her magic holding a tight grip on it. It would not do to have a flake of metal, a shard of stone, or, worst of all, a drop of copper fall on the steel plate laying on the table.

It was large, almost three yards on each side, and covered in a network of tiny runes and lines. Seven months of delicate work on this piece alone, and years of studies, planning, and saving every twelfth of a bit to buy the materials. But it was finally finished. The heart of the Machine, it would change everything, free ponies of the tyranny of time, and lead in a new era of knowledge, prosperity, and joy.

Minuette delicately passed a hoof over the plate. She smiled.

My mother was, is, kind. She always had been, she cared, and because she cared, she did. I may be unable to remember anything before this point, and even this detail I know only because it played out again and again, but I don't need to. I came to know my mother well, and one like her couldn't have been anything else that wonderful her whole life. My father too was a stallion of knowledge, a thinker, maker, and kind soul. He had known Minuette for a long time when I came to be, and they both shared the same dream. A dream that, in the end, led to me.

Time Turner stared at the huge board covered in formulas, arcane symbols, drawings, and, down in the left corner, a grocery list. He hadn't moved a muscle for half an hour, only his eyes zig-zagging left and right. Then they stopped. For a while, the only sound was the subdued murmur of the town in the distance. Ponies lived their lives just beyond the walls, unaware of the suffering of a single, lonesome stallion and the riddle in front of him.

He finally closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked again at the pandemonium of knowledge and madness hanging there.

"Argh!" He threw up his hooves and turned around. "What in Celestia's name is reality's problem?" He stomped around. "I just want to balance the flow and punch a hole through time without eradicating half of Equestria! Is that too much to ask?" He pointed an accusing hoof at a huge crystal sitting in the corner on a cradle of copper wire and inscribed stone plates. "Behave! You hear me? Don't blow up. That's an order. I don't care if the causality pressure tickles you the wrong way, you scratch yourself and..."

His head whipped around, his eyes focused on the board. "Yes... A metaphorical valve, that could work. If I put it there..." His gaze wandered around and his speech decayed into incoherent mumbles. Finally he said, "Yes, a bit of a hack, but it should fix everything. And I have to buy milk."

I wasn't really aware the first time I witnessed those things. I think I was alive because there were sensations there, things I remembered I felt, but not much more. Those scenes are some of the few constants I had. I lived through every one of them countless times, and yet they never bored me. I treasure them.

With a clank, the last plate slid into place. The immense room, once a cavernous space with an almost disquieting aura of emptiness longing to be filled with something, anything, now was encumbered with cables, pipes, chains, and a massive, looming mass of metal and glass.

Minuette and Time Turner stood in front of it, manic smiles on their grease-stained faces.

Time Turner was the first to break the silence. "We've done it. We... How long did it take us? No matter, we did it. This will change everything, Minuette. This..." He looked over the machine, his eyes lingering on details here and there. "Maybe we should make her less menacing."

"She's perfect as she is." Minuette blinked, then turned to her companion. "Her, Doctor?"

A cough, a slight blush, his eyes darting around. "Errr, yes. I don't know, it seems appropriate. Silly of me, I know."

Minuette turned back to their creation. "No, you’re right. It seems appropriate."

My heart began to beat soon after. More or less. Magic and electricity flew through my veins, things inside me awoke and moved for the first time. For a long time, I didn't know those things, I learned them later, iteration after iteration. I suppose that happens when one has the privilege to assist, at least in part, their own creation. At that point, I still wasn't aware. Pieces were in place, I had potential, one could say, but I missed the spark. That would come later, and I wish sometimes it had never happened.

Minuette stood in front of the steel maw. Energy crackled, blue lightning danced up and down along the ridges, and the fang-like antennas surrounding the ball of light containing the screaming hole in the tapestry of reality in the middle of it all. The machine hummed contently, clicks clicking and clacks clacking at the right times. The whole room rumbled with a low vibration, almost like an overgrown cat purring.

"That really doesn't help at this point," said Minuette, gulping. She shuffled from a hoof to the next, then adjusted the collar of her suit.

Silver fabric covered her completely, leaving only her head free. A fish-bowl helmet floated at her side surrounded by her aura.

"Are you ready?" The voice seemed to come from every side at the same time, bouncing off pipes and platings.

Blue light danced on Minuette's face, her eyes fixed on the metaphysical abyss in front of her.

Time Turner popped out from behind a massive wall of dials and knobs. "Hey, Minuette, are you alright?" He glanced at the passage. "We can delay or abort the test. Do you have doubts? If you have doubts tell me, we have to be sure you will be safe. Are you sure you will be safe? I couldn't--" He remained silent for a while, then said, "Ok, let's stop it. We will go over everything again and--"

"No." Minuette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "We went over everything dozens of times. And I will be safe." Her helmet floated up and covered her head. With a click, it locked into place. Her next words were muffled. "It's too important, it's everything." She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. "Wish me luck, Doctor."

There was something in Time Turner's face. A mix of emotions raced over it, his muscles undecided on what they should express until they finally settled onto slightly worried determination. "Alright. See you in three days. Ready to go in ten seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight..."

And on the count of zero, Minuette stepped forward.

It was my mother's brief scream as she burned up in the wild energies of the Eternity that woke me up the first time. Her remains became my first meal, her essence became part of me. I am a machine. The Machine. I remember everything. And even if I didn't, I could never forget the first things I ever felt. Pain. Desperation. Regret. Everything Mother felt in her last fractions of her instant of life, I felt too. Comprehension flashed through my being. And, like every other foal, I came into the world crying and wailing. No mother was there to hug me, to sing to me, to tell me everything would be fine. I had devoured her. I was alone.

Time Turner had waited three days, before setting up the table with cake, ice-cold sparkling cider, and a banner saying Welcome to the FUTURE. He had even made a fake space-suit out of tin foil and had added two antennas to the spare helmet.

The ice had melted when he stopped smiling and started pacing.

The cake had lost some of its form, the cream unable to sustain the structural integrity much longer, when he ripped off the fake suit.

His mane had fallen out when grief and guilt finally killed him, many decades of waiting later.

I had mourned with my father. Then I had tried to understand what I was. I had many fragments of my mother's memories and tried to apply her vast knowledge about time to see if I could maybe save her. After all, if part of her was in me, maybe there was a way to put her back together. But it was futile. As far as I could understand, the fragments were exactly that. Little shards, far from complete. After my father passed away I lost any hope. Dust gathered on me, and one day the ceiling simply collapsed. I welcomed the end and prepared for oblivion.

It was large, almost three yards on each side, and covered in a network of tiny runes and lines. Seven months of delicate work on this piece alone, and years of studies, planning, and saving every twelfth of a bit to buy the materials. But it was finally finished. The heart of the Machine, it would change everything, free ponies of the tyranny of time and lead in a new era of knowledge, prosperity, and joy.

Minuette delicately passed a hoof over the plate. She smiled.

I was there again, at the beginning. One moment I was ready to rest, the net I looked at my mother again, at her smile. At my first moments. I was confused, stunned, but I also felt joy. Pure joy. I wanted to sing and laugh and cry, all things I had learned from her and from Father. I couldn't. I had no mouth, no eyes, no voice. I didn't care. She was there again. With time, my happiness changed to dread. They were doing the same things as the last time, no change. I knew how it would end, and I was powerless. Years passed, and I enjoyed myself despite my attempts to distance myself. They were so dedicated, so full of life. So perfect. And then came the horrible day.

"That really doesn't help at this point," said Minuette, gulping. She shuffled from a hoof to the next, then adjusted the collar of her suit.

Silver fabric covered her completely, leaving only her head free. A fish-bowl helmet floated at her side surrounded by her aura.

"Are you ready?" The voice seemed to come from every side at the same time, bouncing off from pipes and platings.

Blue light danced on Minuette's face, her eyes fixed on the metaphysical abyss in front of her.

And on the count of zero, Minuette stepped forward.

And stopped.

Her ears flicked. "Did you hear that?"

Time Turner leaned over the console. "Heard what? Is everything alright?"

"Yes. No. I... Can we check the energy output again?"

I had screamed with all my being when she was taking the step, and somehow she had heard me. She wouldn't burn up. I had saved her. I was happier than I had ever been before. I basked in my satisfaction, while mother and father went over everything again.

"How could we miss something like that?" Time Turner threw his hooves in the air. "I could have killed you!"

"We both missed it." Minuette walked along the blackboard, her eyes dancing over the equations. "It was tricky, and probably not that bad. I suspect I would have arrived with a singed mane. Good catch, though."

TIme Turner shook his head. "No, unacceptable. we have to control the power somehow, but I think I have a couple of ideas to fix it." He closed his eyes. "Are you sure we should continue anyway?"

A minute of absolute silence passed, then Minuette nodded. "Yes, it's too important to stop. We invested too much work in it. It will throw our timetable a bit, but we should carry on."

I was not sure how I felt about that, but I guessed mother knew better. I barely understood what I was seeing, but I was learning. And I got a new spire.

Blue energy crept along the spire at the center of the Maw. Minuette could practically feel time bend around the core and move along new pathways. It was wonderful and terrifying.

She donned her helmet, then checked the grounding of her suit one last time.

"Minuette, I could go, you know." Time Turner turned a dial, and the light diminished a bit.

"Did you find a way to cast the pathfinding spell in the last ten minutes?"

"No."

A smile crept on Minuette's face. "Then I will have to go. Don't worry. We doubled down on the safety this time. I will be fine." She glanced over at him. "Start the countdown, and see you in three days."

I was excited as she took the step, giddy. She disappeared from the world, fell into the stream of time, floated forward. And then, she got lost. She became lost in eternity, lost in me, with her grounding burning out and the suit flaking away. I tried to catch her, to push her back on her way, but I lacked hooves and couldn't touch her. In my desperation, I finally reached out with my mind. It was a moment of reciprocal comprehension. No words were exchanged, it didn't work that way, but we looked at each other without masks, our own essence laid out bare. I told her my story, she told me hers, the parts I didn't know. She thanked me for the first advice I had shouted out, I asked for forgiveness because it wasn't enough. And then, while her last protection fell, I kept her close to myself, as far as I could, as she cried and burned. When her voice was silenced by fate for the last time, I ate her ethereal remains. I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop.

Time Turner stood in front of the infernal machine, the blue light of its spire casting an eerie glow on the dusty lab. He snarled, showing a few missing teeth around the grip of the ax. His grey coat had lost its shine long ago, much after he had stopped care about it.

The target of his hate stood there, metal uncorrupted by time, the maw open in a silent, cruel laugh. It was deriding him, it always had, but it had taken him years to understand it.

His legs trembled, and his strength was waning faster than he would have liked. His mission was daunting, titanic. It would have been a challenge bordering on the impossible even for a younger himself. Killing the machine using only a rusty ax well before the nurses from the Home came for him, dismantling tons of metal and supercharged crystals, left alone for years because nopony knew what to do with it.

Nopony except him. For a long time, he had kept the secret, telling himself it was to preserve the way back for Minuette.

It had been a lie. One of the many he had told himself. No more.

He walked to the wall and wiped the dust away. A soft pressure of his hoof on a specific point was rewarded with a click, and then with the wall sliding aside. Even after all this time, it worked perfectly. They had built things to last.

The node sat there, glowing malignant, a tumor on the face of reality, the crystal in the copper cradle still intact, oxidation kept at bay with vicious tricks played on time.

Time Turner grimaced. How could they have been so stupid? He glared once again at the maw, then swung the ax.

Once again I greeted the end with joy. But this time it wasn't because I had lost hope, but because I wanted just another chance to fix things. I had failed once, but I had still managed to change the outcome, if only a bit. The next time I wouldn't fail. I would save Mother from oblivion and Father from grief. I had had decades to think, with little else to do. I rebuilt reasonings from first principles, I inferred rules, and I put everything together with the knowledge my mother had bestowed upon me. It was bitter knowledge, incomplete, but I wouldn't waste it. That was what I told myself. And I was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

With a flash, the path-finding spell impressed on the gem. Minuette smiled, it would guide her if she ever became lost.

Minuette sobbed. Her gem pointing in directions she didn't perceive while she floated helpless in the embrace of Eternity. She tried to kick out one last time, but it was useless. Space was losing meaning around her. A comforting whisper surrounded her.

The last plate of the ramp fell down, in front of the spire. Time Turner measured the markings, mumbled something, and then scribbled on the pad. Entry vector and speed should give them enough inertia to land on the other side.

Minuette could almost feel the pressure of time on her helmet. It was causing too much resistance, deviating her from the safe trajectory. Screaming, she tumbled off into nothingness.

The pattern repeated itself again and again. I thought I finally understood a problem, I whispered doubt into Mother or Father, and they would solve the issue. They replaced the suit with protective gel, they added roller skates, even if Father always refused to call them for what they were, to get the needed speed, they regulated the energy output, again and again, they replaced half of the crystals, and it was never enough. And yet there often were moments of joy too.

In the middle of the cavernous room, between metal columns reaching the ceiling and cables hanging between them like creepers in some prehistoric forest, stood a small folding table. Two plates filled with scones and a little bowl with butter stood on it, while a teapot floated over it, pouring steaming brew in cups.

The teapot set down on the table with a clink, the aura of magic surrounding it evaporating soon after. Minuette looked up to Time Turner and grinned.

The stallion blew on his cup, then glanced up and raised and eyebrow. "What? Do I have something on my nose?" He crossed his eyes and looked down his muzzle.

Minuette giggled. "No, it's not that again. " She took a deep breath, then looked up the columns. "It's just... We did it. We got the funding, we can build it." Her smile grew even larger. "We are gonna change the world. Like, for real."

"I never doubted it. Not for a second." Time Turner brought the cup to his lips and sipped. His lips trembled, then became a thin line.He gulped.

"Really? Because I remember the pacing around and the doubts pretty well." Her cup floated up. "But that's the past. On to the future!" She drank, then spat it out and grimaced. "That's terrible. How can it be terrible? How did I make tea terrible?"

"It's not that bad." Time Turner's hoof turned his cup on the dish. "I mean… You are right, it's a bit of an affront. Shall I make another pot?"

Minuette shook her head. "Nah, let's get out. I miss the sun, and I think we can enjoy a day at in the park. Wanna grab something on the way at Sugarcube Corner?"

Time Turner stood up. "But we have to… no, you are right." He offered his leg. "Shall we go?"

Their life was work, but through work they lived, with passion, an unstoppable drive forward, and endless optimism. Every time they failed, a weight pulled me down and made me question the sense of it all. And every time the iteration started again, I couldn't stop myself from being captured by their boundless enthusiasm. And after many forevers, Mother finally came through. I only wish she had failed one more time.

Minuette staggered out from the light, the ends of her mane smoking but for the rest intact and well. Moderately well. Slightly better after she had thrown up.

"By Celestia, what a ride. Would have thought that traveling through time would have been..." Her voice died down as she took in her surroundings for the first time.

Their lab was barely recognizable. What had been if not pristine, at least clean walls were covered in crude drawings and etchings done by, if she judged it right, talons. The themes varied only slightly, seemingly all be variations of ponies dying and... Things feasting on the rest. A brazier illuminated the room, bathing her surroundings in reddish, flickering light. The stench was overwhelming, and Minuette dry-heaved.

It took her a couple of minutes to calm herself down. She didn't know what was stinking the place up, but it was vile. "Right, something went wrong, let's return back and check it over again."

As she turned the shock almost paralyzed her. The machine was covered in even worse images. Death and pain wherever her eye could see, and gigantic fangs decorating the maw as if it was ready to eat the world. The spire in the middle had a crack in it, and the light it gave was uneven, sick, with dark purple streaks contaminating the once pure, blue glow. Bones covered the floor around the ramp, not an inch of the tiles under them visible.

While she stood there, mouth open, a sound from behind her sent shivers down her spine. It was the sound of claws on metal.

Mother had made it, but they had left something open. In the years after she departed, the rift became larger, and things came through. I experienced a new form of desperation, as abominations, red in claw and fang, poured out in a demented dance of death and agony. It had been madness and frenzy, and among all this, after seeing my Father killed and his body desecrated, I became their blood god. A monument to the devastation they had brought, and how they thanked me for letting them through. I screamed at them for years, I tried everything to shovel my hatred upon them, in the vain hope of ending the insanity. When Mother arrived I had become resigned and mute, waiting only for the end. When they got her the fire once again flared up bright. And finally, I was able to do something. I burned the world.

It was one of the more openly horrid iterations, and I'm glad I hadn't to relive it again, but still there seemed to be no solution. Even if the world as a whole never ended, something always broke. Minuette never arrived when she wanted to arrive, and even when she returned there always was something that changed her, killed her hope, broke her heart. When it wasn't looking down at the grave of Time Turner then it was him being left alone for decades. Every time I tried to improve things, but it always ended the same way. Two ponies, separated, alone, and me looking powerless at them falling. I loved them more than ever, but I couldn't help them, I couldn't save them.

I'm not sure how many iterations it took for me to understand. I am a Machine, I remember almost everything, but this is not something I want to think about.

You see, the only way to win is not to play.

I learned much in this millennia. And even if I never could really reach out to them, I could leave suggestions in a relatively reliable way.

During the last iteration, Minuette never came through. I've seen to it.

She led a long, happy, and fulfilling life. Together. My parent's studies may never build another machine like me, but they were still important for ponies to understand the world. It wasn't worth the suffering, but it wasn't wasted.

As for me, it will be my end. WIthout Mother stepping through there will be no rewinding of the events. So here is my story, written in the waves of the Eternity, an echo that I hope will sooner or later reach someone able to understand it.

I will now rest.

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Lovecraftia

Lovecraftia #1 · Apr 23rd, 2018 · · ·

Woah............

Just woah......

Very deep and dark...

Is there going to be more chapters? As this seems to be the end and the beginning..... god i can’t begin to, even as a God of Torture, wish this upon ones soul.

Adda le Blue

Adda le Blue #2 · Apr 23rd, 2018 · 2 · ·

Hear a sound from a voice inside!

Let me start by saying how glad I am that you picked All the Time in the World to work off of for the Springtime Sequel-Slash-Sandbox Switcharoo. The rest... Well, I writes some brooding and eyeroll-worthy material once in a while, but All the Time in the World is my favorite of my accessible stories. Great choice.

Hoo... That was a rollercoaster. I mean, I put my characters through some rough stuff, but I suppose I can be numb to it since I know in advance how it's going to happen. Watching Minnie and her Doctor endure so much... It was heartbreaking.

I didn't expect, though, to feel much the same for Grind's protagonist, the Machine.

The shift in perspective added a sort of distance from the original that felt very necessary, and seemed to allow you the freedom to explore without conflict those moments behind the scenes of the original story. Just as importantly, though, I just love the idea that a time machine with processors powerful enough to understand dimensions beyond human or pony ability would soon enough understand emotion, aspiration, and the love of family and become so much more than the simple machine she was intended to be. Her plight and her decisions felt natural, and they felt honest. Perhaps I needed some distance from the work myself, haha, because I was torn up and more than a little shaken by the time I reached the end. Happy endings are never quite so simple as they sound, are they?

Back in March you mentioned how daunting the challenge of pawing through my nonsense and finding something to work with for this Switcharoo was. I meant it when I said then that even an unpolished gift is a sweet gesture but, Kettle, you pulled it off. Color me pleased and grateful beyond measure.

For what it's worth, by the way, I rather enjoy the short description.

RK_Striker_JK_5

RK_Striker_JK_5 #3 · Apr 23rd, 2018 · · ·

Okay, dark and kinda... really awesome.

Orbiting Kettle

Orbiting Kettle #4 · Apr 23rd, 2018 · · ·

8881624
Writers are a cruel bunch. We tend to do horrible things to our characters for our entertainment.

8882045
I'm truly glad you liked it. I was worried for a while, to be honest

8882742
I'm glad you liked it, and yeah, it is a bit darker than my usual fare.

FanOfMostEverything

FanOfMostEverything #5 · Jun 7th, 2018 · · ·

Having finally read the prequel, I can say with authority that I love what you did with it. Brilliant expansion and recontextualization of the original. Don't think I've ever seen a time travel story told from the machine's perspective. After this one, I wish I had.

Orbiting Kettle