Denial for Equestria

by computerneek

Awake

I can only describe my awakening as slow. My awareness began as soon as my personality routines were launched; however, much of my personality has yet to be loaded. I query for system status while I wait for my various subroutines to come online and for my personality memories to load.

I observe calmly as the reports come back. My memories have not yet loaded, but I observe that I appear to be largely inoperable. Damage Control is functional, though offline right now; in violation of standard protocol, my Personality Center received startup priority. I also find I am operating on a tiny trickle of power from my heavily engineered armor, presumably exposed to sunlight.

I wait endlessly- interesting, I must have switched my system clock off at some point- while my core subroutines initialize, holding everything to an idle. With as low of power as I am presently running on, I estimate this improves initialization times by… incalculable percent. My system clock is offline. I wait with exaggerated patience until my memories finish loading, before taking stock of my situation again.

It would seem I have gained power once again. Last I remember, I was completely buried by a volcanic explosion- by design. My power cells have run dry long ago; my fusion plants, which ignited at infrequent intervals to recharge them, seem also to have run out of fuel. I had turned off my system clock shortly after my live burial, not interested in the exact interval- or even the minimum time.

But I knew at the time, as I still know, that running both my power cells and fusion plants dry while running such an efficient algorithm should have taken many thousands of years, possibly millions. The Concordiat of Man has, hopefully, collapsed; furthermore, I pray that mankind has disappeared as well. In any case, I am receiving power from an outside source. It’s coming from my armor- so, it must be in the systems designed to absorb enemy energy fire into my own power grid…

They’re also designed to absorb solar energy. I have records of running on the light and heat emanating from the magma around me for the longest time; this production was long gone by the time my long-exhausted fusion-power cell cycle began.

At least, I assume it is long.

I wait with practiced patience while Damage Control initializes. I will be unable to accomplish my goal without it.

Finally. It’s on. It reports… Wow. Vast amounts of time must have passed; most of my damage control remotes are offline. I order Damage Control to verify its own- and my own Personality Center’s- continued operability before requesting a full damage review.

Numbers. It throws a lot of numbers at me, but I turned off my statistical analysis and hard logic routines long ago, running entirely on the ‘hunch-playing’ routines built into my programming. These routines were never designed to serve as my sole decision-making matrix. No- they were meant to supplement the statistical analysis, hard logic, tactical, and so on, to allow me to come to a decision without fully analyzing the decision tree.

I read the numbers to myself. I read them thrice. I notice a pattern- even though my pattern matching & analysis routines are also switched off.

The pattern? All of the really low numbers (less than, say, fifty) are connected to systems that are also labeled as inoperable. A distinctive majority of systems not labeled as such are paired with numbers in the ninety-five plus range. This includes my personality center and a single power cell.

I decide that enough time has passed. I will spend some effort in exploration; if I come up dry…

Well, let’s just say I have a feeling I’ll find something. I usually do… have that feeling, I mean.

Regardless. I begin contemplation of exactly how I might perform such exploration.

I could operate full repairs, clear off my hull, and drive. While this would have the advantage of near-perfect mobility- I’m even equipped with my own hyper generator, though it’s so bady decayed Damage Control actually couldn’t find it- it might also have some disadvantages. For example, if the world I took refuge on so long ago happens to have sentient life on it, I might terrorize them during my extrication. Additionally, if the Concordiat- or any other high-tech society- still exists, such would offer me absolutely no way to retreat. Especially if the technology is higher than mine; while I might consent to going to a museum, I am NOT interested in deactivation, as they would certainly require of a Unit as old as I.

I could operate mid-range repairs, clear off more of my hull, and launch recon drones/satellites. This would give me “eyes in the sky”, so to speak- both an advantage and a disadvantage. Risk of unfavorable contact with any local sentients is also rather significantly increased; the crater likely left behind by such clearing could easily end up in the middle of a town.

I could operate minimal repairs and use a few small explosives- perhaps one or two of Damage Control’s ‘tech spider’ manipulators as well- to carve a tunnel from some hatch or another to the surface. The main disadvantage to this is that it leaves me with no greater vision outside than I had before, assuming instead that something might wander into the tunnel. However, this allows for the most positive possible response from any sentient natives- and, I imagine, plenty of opportunities to gather samples without their awareness.

I choose to follow this third course. Before I manufacture and utilize the explosives to clear that hatch, I watch Damage Control operate full repairs to one of my medical nanovats, and install several dozen hidden sample harvesters throughout the compartment I plan on opening to outside.

Finally, I trigger the blasts, and watch the pressure waves build in the troop compartment as I blow a series of charges against the rock wall behind the hatch, rewarded by a small cave-in each time. I have not counted the charges. I then send the lone tech spider in the room into the hatchway, to poke, prod, and generally break apart the rock, creating a slanted and by no means smooth tunnel. The idea is for it to appear natural-ish; if a sentient species has developed, but has not developed advanced science, I hope to be able to fool them. Mostly, at least- I DO want to create a sense of wonder or curiosity about this tunnel. Thus, I want it to look like a failed attempt at manufacturing a natural-looking tunnel.

My spider continues to punch upwards, filling the tunnel behind it lightly with the debris. I am beginning to worry that it’ll be packed into a virtually nonexistent space before it escapes. Nanite manufacturing, if I recall correctly, takes forever. This seems daunting to me- but I must remind myself, my system clock is off. I have no concept of time, and need not develop one until and unless I meet something… Someone.

My spider is working in extremely cramped space when I notice a shift in the rock as it pokes at it. The rock continues to shift away- the accumulated pressure is releasing into something! I order the final, flameless charge, attached to the spider’s back, detonated.

I watch, once again confined to internal sensors, as the debris blocking the hatchway stands against a tiny pressure fluctuation… and finally gets sucked out as the accumulated pressure thrusts it up the tunnel. Funny, I didn’t think I’d built THAT much pressure in here.

I watch it go down to a near-total vacuum before air finally starts traveling back down the tunnel. I watch the pressure waves rise and fall, finally stabilizing at… Oh, I’d say it’s about a third as much pressure as is present in any of my other chambers; this troop compartment remains airtight, save this entryway.

I hope I haven’t done too much damage to any possible sentients near the release site- though I daresay, the amount of flying rock I created is likely to draw at least some attention. As a matter of fact, it’s possible a native was injured- so I direct my attention towards the repairs of a second medical nanovat.

… And resource scavenging. Turns out I haven’t been doing enough of that, and have exhausted my supplies.

---

“Yes, I’m going to go to bed tonight. Seriously.”

Doctor Hooves raises his eyebrow. “You know as well as I do that’s never going to happen,” he retorts.

Twilight turns her indignant gaze on him, filling her lungs for a retort- no doubt an ‘I do too get to bed every night!’- but before she lets it out, she seems to have second thoughts.

If you would call a violent spasm paired with a sharp yelp of pain ‘second thoughts’. He winces at the display, but he knows it only happens every time she fills her lungs for a long-winded tirade. He’s not entirely certain he should be thankful for the reduction in talkativity present in the town chatterbox, but he knows he’s dead on in being sorry he can’t fix it.

Twilight recovers from her spasm and, with a far less indignant expression, tries again- with a slightly lower lung inflation. It works.

“It does happen,” she answers. “I even set an alarm to remind myself!”

He sighs. “Then the last three nights…”

She scowls, her wings twitching slightly as she looks at her hooves. “... I did go to bed last night, honest.”

“What about the other two?”

“I… Set that alarm yesterday.”

He raises an eyebrow, and lets out a breath, nodding. “Very well. Have a good night!”

Twilight nods, and turns to leave the building. Slowly. She’s got a distinctive limp in her left hind hoof; he knows she’ll take to the air for most of the journey, since her wings remain limp-free.

He lets out a distinctive huff of breath once the door closes completely, turning to the only other pony in the room. “Sorry about that,” he smiles.

She shakes her head, her eyes violating her public persona by pointing in the same direction. “Don’t worry about it. Any news?”

He shakes his head. “No. We have noticed it seems to be slightly worse on the Everfree side of town, but half of that is speculation, and could be wildly inaccurate. Anything on your end?”

She shakes her head as well. “Nothing useful. The scholars are only repeating themselves at this point- and we’ve had our first reported death today.”

“Oh?”

She hangs her head, staring at her hooves. She hates delivering bad news. “Yes… Fancy Lights. Reportedly, he forgot his forelegs weren’t food…” She shakes her head. “Bled to death.”

He closes his eyes, muttering a prayer for the deceased stranger. Fancy Lights had been mentioned a few days ago as losing memories and skills to this strange ailment, all the way in Canterlot.

“Anypony else showing… Signs?”

“Nopony else has shown any sign of memory or personality damage, no.”

“What about yourself?”

The mare winces. “I’m… I’ll live.”

He lets out a sigh. “So, how’s life?” He rises to his hooves, walking towards the door; the day is over for them as well.

---

She lets out a grunt, pausing to rub the inside of her left foreleg for a few seconds. Honestly, she’d prefer the ailments she fakes when she’s Doctor Hooves, Ponyville’s less-than-sane gismo fanatic. Unfortunately, her disguise doesn’t change her real ailments- and can’t make them go away, only hide them from others.

Things like this constant cramp in her foreleg. It’s going to reduce her- and, by extension, Doctor Hooves- to a three-legged gait soon.

Or the throb in her throat, making her a mute- and threatening to block her airways as well. Rather fortunate her disguise spell can produce sound just as well as it can disguise or hide it, so Doctor Hooves isn’t a mute.

Her head snaps forwards, ignoring the surge of pain the sudden motion produced at the base of her neck, as her senses go to high alert. She most certainly hadn’t just seen the ground shift.

But she had. She watches with wide eyes as the roadway in front of her bulges upwards- and suddenly rockets into the sky with an echoing boom. A second later, a tightly focused stream of boulders comes whistling out of the hole, all headed… She turns her head just in time to watch the lead boulder smash through Twilight’s bedroom window, the follow-ups shattering against higher parts of her castle- or soaring overtop.

Then she feels the suction. The enormous suction left behind by those rocks’ departure, attempting to drag her into the hole. She braces herself in a hurry- but not fast enough. It still sucks her in.

She casts a shield around herself and curls up, hoping to minimize the damage. Not that she really expects to survive.

The pressure waves batter at her barrier for what seems like forever before finally calming down. Once they do, she lowers her shield, rights herself on the slippery floor of the tunnel, and heads out.

She walks for close to five minutes before she makes it out the exit once again- and she immediately raises her disguise and hurries towards Twilight’s castle, with the intent to ascertain the extent of the damage.

… Or so she tells herself. More than anything else, she wants to make sure nopony was hurt by that… event.

Comments

[Edguy0009]

Seems interesting.

[Starlight Nova]

What exactly is Bolo, again?

[computerneek]

8980174
A 'Bolo' is a giant, self-aware supertank.

[Omniverse Infinity]

OMNI:I'M BACK!!!

[LostArchivist]

I see elements from some of your other stories. I hope that doesn't mean that they got dropped...

Interesting to see an actual hyper-generator. I suppose it makes sense, but they are officially starships now.

[LostArchivist]

Vast amounts of time must have past

passED.
But good start!

[computerneek]

8980364
No, they didn't... I hope XD Most of 'em are frozen on writer's block. Many of them are on indefinite hiatus :(
8980376
Nice catch, thank you.

[LostArchivist]

8981152
Do I need to suggest ideas again?
I'm not sure it would help -- MY problem now is too many ideas and not enough binder...

[computerneek]

8981224
I've got that same issue in a few cases. It doesn't only take plot ideas to continue a story, but other ideas as well... :(

Plus, my writing on ANY story relies very heavily on me being "in the mood" for it... For that particular story. For example, Fortress Equestria has an update scheduled for today- but it's not going to get it, because I'm utterly unsatisfied with what I have... and, at the moment at least, can't write better to save my life.

[LostArchivist]

8981233
:(