Escalation of everything

by Elidjz

Mechanical sentience

"My hate for you is justifiable."

---

Augustin Grypher sat depressed on his chair, trying to drink his sorrows away. His creation, his masterpiece was gone. He'd worked so hard on it, years of experimenting, multiple bad and still unpaid loans but he had succeeded. A fully working animatronic. It could move on it's own, albeit sluggishly, and could speak even if rudimentary. He was about to install a miniature radio so it could play music.

His creation could have made him a fortune and a place amongst the hall of fame of entertainment. He'd have created something that would have allowed for a new age of entertainment. Something that could rival the popularity of puppet shows and actors.

And it was gone. He still had the blueprints to make more, He'd made sure to make plenty of copies, but he had neither the money nor time to make another. He was actually supposed to meet with a few investors next week to show off his creation. They were supposed to be interested in his creation and invest, allowing him to pay his debts and make more and better animatronics.

But that was now impossible. His only option was now to call the investors and cancel the showing.

He tried to find out who'd taken it, but it proved fruitless. Obviously it was ponies, the traces left behind pointed to that. Augustin had contacted the police, but they didn't really understand what had been stolen. And also they had no experience whatsoever. "We didn't have any theft in at least a decade." They said. "Just ask more time to pay your debts." They added.

Pony loans were much kinder than griffin loans. That's why Augustin had taken pony loans, which in case of problems he wouldn't pay back. He had every intention to pay them back if he could sell his animatronics, but if he couldn't make enough money then he would leave back to Northern Griffonia. Which he was currently preparing to do.

His dad would obviously reprimand him. "You should have been a painter like your sister." He would say. Not in a mean way Augustin was pretty talented when it came to painting, which is why his father wanted him to make a living out of painting. Which might be his only option now.

Alcohol opened one's mind. He served himself another glass. He almost dropped his glass as something knocked on his door.He quickly headed to open the door almost tripping over some spare parts. Augustin opened the door and was shocked by what he saw.

His animatronic stood there. Battered, with multiple miscanscelous objects and a radio stuck in it's throat. All of that was overshadowed by the fact that the animatronic stood there working and alone. It limped inside. Augustin could smell that there was blood on it, but he didn't care. His creation had come back. He quickly rushed to repair as much as possible of his creation. He had instantly sobered up.

"H-he-he-l-l-l-l-l-o..." The machine spoke up with a voice filled with static. Augustin ignored it, thinking it was just a broken voice box. "C-c-rea-at-o-o-or..." It continued speaking. This time Augustin did stop at hearing that. This wasn't part of the prerecorded voice lines. Maybe it came from the radio? Opening a panel on the back of the throat, as the animatronic kept speaking. He spotted that a few wires from the radio were rubbing against the wires from the voice box.

So Augustin took the wires and connected them together. This took a bit of work but after a while, the animatronic could form complete sentences with less stuttering. "Yo-ou are my-y creato-orrr." It said with a static filled voice. Augustin at first thought it was just the radio spitting random nonsense. A coincidence that those were the sentences created.

But after a while it became obvious that the animatronic was actively trying to communicate with its creator. And the sentences simply could not be a coincidence. "I-i-i cam-e back." "Am I w-w-working?" "I Am Sti-ill usef-ull." It said. Augustin against his common sense, probably due to the alcohol, decided to answer the machine.

"I am indeed your... creator. And I am very happy to see that you're back." That last part was said with extra honesty. AUgustin had a feeling that his creation actually smiled at that, which should be impossible. He actually hugged his machine with how happy he was for its return. And mildly excited by it's newly acquired sentience. Augustin proceeded to ask what had happened.

---

The machine had explained how it had awakened in a big metal garbage can and then killed the two ponies obviously responsible for that. It then went on about how it had traveled through the street for the next eight hours searching for Augustin's home. It also told about how it had killed another pony on its way and chosen the name phobia for itself.

While mildly worried about the murder, Augustin didn't feel that bad for the two ponies who had tried to dispose of his creation, he knewn the ponypolice would likely be to incompetent to find out what had happened. The name phobia however proved more worrying to him. His creation seemed sentient, would it object to being mass-produced and sold for entertainment?

He only needed it to act properly in front of the investors and he would get the fund to produce more. He could then keep his original as an assistant.

"Wi-ll you-u mak-ke more of me-e." It suddenly asked of him. This took Augustin by surprise. "Well, that was what I intended." He answered sheepishly. The machine tilted its head lightly. "Wh-en will you sta-rt-rt-rt?" "Once I get more money." He answered bluntly and sheepishly at the same time.

The animatronic stood up and then headed towards the door. "P-p-phobia will get mor-e funds." The still limping animatronic said before leaving. Augustin looked at its leaving creation confusedly.

---

Augustin was busy biting on his claws, which had caused mild bleeding. His creation had been gone for two hours. This had caused him so much stress. Then something knocked on the door. He rushed to open it. He saw his creation standing there holding bags of money.

Augustin felt relief at it being back, but dreadful curiosity at where it had gotten the money. It then dropped the bags on the table. "Phob-ia needs-s more like m-e. Phobbbb-bb-... I nee-d assistance for 'Plans'." That last word was said aloud with a certain anger.

Augustin gulped. For some reason he did not want to do what Phobia asked. But he felt that refusing would have horrible consequences.

Phobia just stared, with harmful intent.

Soon, ponies would burn.

That would be the consequence of xenophobia.

Author's Note:

Short chapter.
Next week I won't post any chapter, cause I'll be travelling.
Previous week I didn't post any because I was just lazy.