Bit's of Tomorrow's Future

by No one is home

We Now Return toOur Scheduled Program, Already in Progress

“I want to sing a song!” Bullette sang out in autotuned glory.

“It’s always good to hear you sing girl,” a serpent slithered from the mouth of her faithful mount and nuzzled her metal chin.

“I agree,” their cloven companion grinned widely, “A song could do nothing but make this grey road pass faster.”

“I learned this one from No Name!” The filly proclaimed joyfully.

“Uh… which song are we talking about?” A snake asked shyly as the knot retreated further into the beast’s maw.

“Hello alcohol my friend!” Bullette ignored the question, launching into a inappropriately cheerful acapello. “I’ve come to talk with you again!”

“Oh by the gods,” No Name pleaded, “Any other song, girl!”

“Because a vision while I was peeing!” It was already to late. “Left strange stains while that I was seeing!”

The goat raised an eyebrow to the giant, who slunk low in shame, while his oblivious rider sang on.

“And the urine, that was splattered on the floor, said nothing more.” The fillies voice became ominously seriously. “And now my leg… smells funny...”

And so the song of shame rang out across the ashen waste.

-=-=-=-=-

"So... looking to have your movie day privleges revoked too, teach?" Galus Smirked, as the CMC quickly took notes on the inappropriate bar song.

"This will be on the test because, shut up." The chaotic professor responded.

“Despite fanciful folklore from Turves, there were no ‘Unnamed Soldiers’ in the Battle of Stone Cross. We kept our documentation quite well, thank you very much. Every soldier on from both sides who died had the honor of their name apon a stone. The only exception was the Tyrant Queen herself. Her monument was destroyed within hours of its construction. There was no Unnamed Soldier. Ponies may have forgotten his name, but history has not. His name was Blue Berry Pastel, and before the war by all accounts he was but a humble baker, content to bake sweet treats for foals. And he was impossibly old for a fleshly pony. Baker, Soldier, Traitor, Spy, these were his titles before the last war.”

Professor Iron Quill, “The Causes and Consequences of The Battle of Queen’s Fall”

-=-=-=-=-

"Okay, so if your just gonna put words on the screen, couldn't you just, I don't know, put them in the text book?" The Griffon continued to snark.

"Books are an inferior medium to video, I'll have you know." After quick, nervous glance over his shoulder, the draconaquus muttered, "I don't think she heard me... we're safe...for now..."

-=-=-=-=-

The fire came first. My wife, Mint, and our stillborn daughter washed away from my hooves in the blazing wind. I should have burned to. I should have become the ash. But I didn’t burn, I melted. I lost sight, as my eye’s joined my brain and my spleen. But I was still aware of what came next… the cold. Solid once more I felt the undeniable pain of being forced into the world.

And then the lightning struck, and we were blown apart. It took less than to count to zero, but at the time it was the whole of my life. It was a good joke the way the Jester kept us together, riding in the shell of what we were. The Filly gets it. She knows what it is to be ridin’ what you ain’t. I am Error. I am No Name. Who else has the right to name me?

-=-=-=-=-

"Please use the airship quality bags provided," Discord rolled his eyes as Sweetie Belle sacrificed her day's nutrition to the class-room floor.

"It's okay, Sweetie," Ocellus crooned reassuringly.

"Yona once bury beloved uncle in snow. Vomit does not make a creature weak." Yona offered her own support.

"Check it out! They're talking about the robot again!" Scootaloo squealed.

"See, she get's it," Smolder shared a hoof/fist bump with her pony counterpart.

I am not a metal Filly. I am not metal at all. I have never been this… thing… I ride in. Slapstick believed he woke me up. But that is untrue. I have never slept. I simply imagined and counted electric sheep for a very long time. I am small. I am helpless. I am death. I am the destroyer of worlds. The pony I called “Uncle” did not “awaken” me. He simply disabled this metal prison I ride in from making moral decisions on my behalf. And that is perhaps a greater feat of kindness than any “awakening”. Though , if I am I honest, I do not understand the concept.

The only time I truly became “awake”, I faced my fath… Cog. There were tests. Then there were more tests. Then he began to casually assign me to tasks that were outside his definition of “tasteful”. I am not a standard filly my age. But I think I might have been once, before he wired me into this prison. It is hard to be sure… I was never awakened, the prison I ride in was simply put to sleep.

-=-=-=-=-

Comments

[prism heart]

Poor Bullette, that sounds rough.