Digital Effigy

by Starscribe

I Think

Lucid Storm was on the right track with this prototype.

Granted, he had thought exactly that same thing on several previous occasions. His garage/workshop was littered with the broken pieces of could've and should've been, as earlier versions of this exact project grew beyond his ability to create them.

But this time was different—this time, he was sure.

"Those weren't failures, Sweetie," he whispered, circling around the machine. "They were necessary experience. I wouldn't know how to make this work if I didn't see all the ways it couldn't."

Off in one corner, his 3D printer hummed quietly away, while the heat from his PC made the garage workshop feel sweltering even to a batpony like himself. But it would all be worth it—every failure, every misstep, every hour he'd spent slaving away in here, if only he could get this machine to work.

It was nothing like the simple labor-saving devices that had built his fortune in the first place. Fruit dehydrators and simple automatic assistant programs certainly served an important market niche, or else he would depend entirely on his wife for support.

But this machine was an order of magnitude beyond, both in its potential and its complexity. It couldn't look like a plain silvery box, or else it couldn't serve ponies in need. The only way for a machine to follow ponies through the world they'd built and remain useful no matter their situation was for that machine to be a pony itself.

The hard parts of her mechanical engineering were all done now, thanks to a collaboration between Lucid himself and a dozen other talented ponies in the maker community. Most of them didn't understand the significance of the project—a machine that looked and moved like a pony, what was the point?

For most of his friends, this project went no further than the thrill of achievement. If the bot could walk and trot and canter around where its computer told it, then they had already achieved success, job done.

Lucid's computer made a high-pitched chime, signifying its task was complete. He hurried over, flipping through a few "training success" dialogues until he found what he was looking for: the latest results.

"Network Size: 8.61*10^9

Model Precision: 99.89%

Model Stability: 71%"

Lucid opened both wings, biting his lip in agitation. That result was incredibly promising, he shouldn't feel so frustrated. His latest upload had reduced the scanned size more significantly than any previous attempt, while maintaining greater than 70% stability.

Unfortunately, he had no comparison for that metric—nopony before him had attempted anything like this. When he tried to run this, would it result in the same painful failure that had his last model in broken pieces in the far corner of the lab?

"There's a threshold where a model is more than just a model," he muttered, tapping the keys that would begin the download. The drive began to flash, blue lights illuminating as the network model transferred. "Now we see how close we are to crossing it."

It took only moments, but those seconds felt like an eternity to Lucid. Should he go back inside, see how his wife was coming along with lunch? Maybe she would want to be here for this moment.

Or maybe this is about to go violently wrong and she'd be better off just hearing a few loud noises from the garage, and another admission of some bad news.

The older sister of the one who contributed this model would want to know too, of course. But Lucid had long since abandoned the pretense of talking to her with anything except good news. Maybe today would be the day he finally had some to share.

Lucid took the drive, pacing around to the side of the prototype. The broad platform they'd designed could look like anypony they wished, but the parts he had printed and assembled here weren't just anypony. When he finally found the model that worked, he intended her to wake up in a body that was familiar.

Well, relatively familiar. Some things, like her unicorn magic, were currently beyond the reach of even the most talented engineers. Yet.

If this worked, there was about to be a much better reason to solve all the problems they hadn't yet.

Lucid strode up to the bot, then inserted the glowing crystal into its waiting data storage. It closed quickly, though he left the plastic back open. This was his last chance to put aside the project for another few weeks of testing and model training. If he lost another prototype, it would be months before he could try again.

"Here goes nothing," he whispered, then pressed the button near the back of her head that would boot the prototype.

A gentle hum echoed from the cooling fans in her still-open torso as the model loaded into active memory. Lucid continued to circle around her. He lifted the mango his wife had given him for breakfast, then put it back down. The nervous anticipation stole his appetite anyway.

Then the prototype moved—her neck and head anyway. Her eyes went from featureless screens to glowing green, blinking into alertness. She looked around the room, at least as much as she could without any freedom to move the rest of her body.

"Where am I?" she asked. Voice synthesis was perfect, of course. That part was only an existing library, and recordings made while this filly was still alive. "Why am I... stuck?"

Lucid picked up his tablet from the desk, brushing a few strands of disheveled purple mane away from his face while he worked. The prototype was burning power rapidly, pegging its powerful processor at 100%.

"You're looking good across all metrics. Model is predicting confusion and fear—typical emotional responses." He tucked it in against his wing, circling her. "I've frozen your motor functions, to avoid..." Probably better not to mention what had happened during the previous tests. This model wasn't any of the previous versions.

Better not to put the pressure on, and accidentally mention what would happen if she failed to measure up to integrity or stability checks. Don't worry, but if something you have no control over doesn't work out, I'm going to delete you completely and start over.

"Tell me, are you feeling any pain?"

The prototype blinked, considering the question. "Not... anymore. Where am I?"

"My workshop," he answered, settling the tablet on the table between them. "I'm going to unlock your motor functions, okay? Be very careful—you might be able to damage yourself, in ways a pony couldn't. Okay?"

She nodded slightly. The fear passed, and she smiled at him. "You seem nice. I think I remember you, but I can't—be sure. Everything is foggy, like a dream."

Lucid stepped back, tablet in front of him. The last model had lacked any ability to easily activate and deactivate like this—which was why it was a broken ruin now.

"That will come. We might have to make some adjustments to your hardware. My last attempts lacked a..." He was actually talking to the model, and getting logical answers back in return! The magic and science of Equestria all came together to this exact moment.

He tapped the tablet once more. "Try to move."

She did, lurching forward a step towards his cabinet. Her hooves were cheap plastic, 3D printed and not suited for high-impact work. But for around the workshop it would be fine. If she wanted to go out into Ponyville and gallop around, that was something else. It was a start.

"Looks like the motor improvements are working. That seemed natural. Can you come back over here, so I can run through some exercises with you?" The prototype obeyed, standing in front of him. Her smile was even wider than before. She didn't seem to notice her back was open, radiating the heat from her processors out into the workshop.

"Start by lifting one hoof as high as you can, like this..."

Over the next half hour, he coached her through various movements, occasionally answering her simple questions to keep her focused. He couldn't expect her to remain completely on task, no matter how important these tests really were. The scan used to create her was only a filly.

He was eventually interrupted by the workshop door rattling behind him, and another pony appearing there in the doorway. She held a plate in her wing, weighed down with fruit and salad. A light meal, perfect for a bright summer day.

"How goes the experiment, hon—" She froze, and the plate tumbled from her grip, shattering on the workshop floor.

The prototype squealed with surprise, jumping backward from the noise. She cowered, lifting one hoof to shield her face. "Did I do something wrong?"

Lucid poised between them. He gave Seed Wise one pleading look, hoping she would understand. "No, Sweetie." He faced her, settling the tablet down on the ground between them. Ready to freeze her motor functions again, if he had to. "It was just an accident."

Sweetie lowered her hoof, glancing nervously at Seed and back to Lucid. "I can... remember you, a little. I don't know her."

Seed's attention was only for Lucid then, and she whispered, "You didn't tell me you were this close."

"I didn't know," he muttered back, without turning around. "That's because you've never met her, Sweetie. I think you might remember me from the hospital? I visited a few times, with those machines..."

She scrunched her face, looking thoughtful. "I think so. Sounds familiar. Am I asleep? Is this a dream? Sometimes I don't remember things very good when I'm dreaming."

"Not anymore," he answered. "When the model was training, you might've experienced—honestly, I have no idea. Nopony does. You're the first. Hopefully not the last."

Seed started moving again—over to a broom against the wall. She swept up what was left of the salad. "Does Rarity know?"

He shook his head once, wincing at the name.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who'd heard. The prototype looked up, eyes intense. "I remember her! That's my... sister. Where is she?"

"Eager to see you, I'm sure." Lucid made his slow way over. "Hold still a moment." He brought one hoof gently down on the plastic case, clicking it closed. "We could... think about visiting her soon, Sweetie. But not without warning."

"Sweetie..." the robot repeated. There were definitely still some improvements to make to her fine motor control. Her lips didn't quite match with her speech. But it wasn't like the ponies who'd helped Lucid build this body had any idea just how it would be used.

This was no tech demo, meant to demonstrate just how far mechanical engineering had come in Equestria’s last few months.

"Oh, okay." She took a few steps towards the open workshop door, then stopped. "I feel... tired. I think I'll rest now." Then she did, slumping forward into a standing, sleeping position.

Silence descended on the workshop. Seed set the broom down, staring at the little pony. "She sounded almost... alive." She leaned against him in a brief, gentle hug. "How'd you do that?"

"Wasn't just me," he whispered. "Some of the smartest engineers, spellcasters—all over the kingdom. I'm just the one in the right place to try it out. With a wife who would tolerate my tinkering, and—" a pony dying of something that wouldn't damage her brain.

He stood, carrying over the charging cable from where it was coiled against the wall, and connecting the prototype.

"You have to tell her sister," Seed said. "All those bits she invested... I'm a little surprised you pulled it off."

He stuck his tongue out. "You mean you didn't trust me? I'm shocked." He hefted a protective cloth over the prototype, covering her like a blanket. It would have to do.

"I didn't think anypony could. Knew I picked a clever one. How long will she be out?"

"Long enough for lunch," he answered, turning to go. "We'll be back, Sweetie. Don’t get into any trouble while we're gone." He followed Seed from the room, letting the door smack closed behind them.

He wasn't there to see Sweetie's eyes come back on.

Comments

[Cobalt Hope]

Ghost in the Shell main theme begins playing.

[SkyArrow]

Well, I'm hooked. Eager to see where this goes

[Herald of Opera]

I've seen how much research you do, so you better be doing the quote out-of-order to fit with the story.

[JustSomeDyslexic]

"My workshop," he answered, settling the tablet on the table between them. [1]I'm going to unlock your motor functions, okay? Be very careful—you might be able to damage yourself, in ways a pony couldn't. Okay?"

[1] Missing opening quotation mark

[Starscribe]

11375800
You're right, thanks for catching it! Fixed.

[Midknight Defender]

Opened this in a tab earlier today to read when I finished what I started last night. Lo and behold, I get to the bottom and there’s a [NEXT] button.

Scrib, you’re an angel.

[Shadow Glider]

" Network Size: 8.61*10^9

8.61*10^9 can be swapped out for the simpler alternative 8.61E9

[WaywardSon]

I'm liking this so far. It's not often we get to see the testing phases in a story like this. I'm looking forward to the later chapters.

(And, BTW, if I ever do write the sequel to The Once and Future Elements I promise I didn't lift the idea from you.)

[Draco Dei]

Deleting the flawed ones is murder to me but I think we are supposed to ignore that, so I shall.

Liked the bit with the mango. He has a good wife I think.

11376768
That might be less clear to some readers?

[amberhaze]

Model Stability: 71%"

I sure hope this model doesn't get NaNs
Numerical instabilities are stuff of nightmares.

[tsaukpaetra]

Rather small for a binary-based network, maybe the state count is appropriately higher?
Miracles indeed, matching IO in the model to real hardware is nearly impossible... 😇

[FOXTrot2]

He wasn't there to see Sweetie's eyes come back on.

Oh boy.

[Amos Anon]

The amount of data needed to hold the amount of storage in the human brain is roughly 298,750 petabytes. Assuming ponies are similar, that's a lot of technological innovation.

[overdue]

when rarity enters the workshop, sees the broken sweetie parts and realizes this guy has killed tens of copies of her sister

[Bahamuttone]

Even Equestria's powerful magic can't heal every sickness. But years after Sweetie Belle passed away, an enterprising young bat uses her final brain scans to give the little unicorn a second chance.

Hmm In story it seems that it's just ONE year since Sweetie death.