Pinkie finds herself flying through the air. Her first thought is how cold everything feels. The winds chill her to the bone, but to her utter confusion, the rains pelting her are warm… She has little time to think on the matter at hand as she slams into the soft red soil.
She lets off squeaks and moans as she tries to slow down her tumble across the ground. Managing to catch herself, she painfully sits up and lets out a huff. “Ow…” She steadies herself as she sits on her rump.
Her blue-colored eyes study her surroundings.
It's dark.
Pinkie can barely see anything in front of her. It didn’t help that the clouds overhead covering the night sky make it impossible for her to use the stars to pinpoint her location. All the times stargazing with Twilight and building up her skills of navigating the stars is now useless.
Feeling her curly mane and tail losing their luster, Pinkie stands on her hooves and makes her way over to a massive redwood tree to seek cover. Still feeling rain, she glares up at the mighty tree. Its branches are way too high to provide sufficient protection. Shivering like an autumn leaf from a passing breeze, she crosses her arms and leans closer to the tree. “Stupid tree…” She mutters.
Looking around some more, she takes note of how unfamiliar the forest is. To be honest, the tree beside her, hell, all the trees surrounding her look unfamiliar. Their towering might, intimidating in the abyss of the stormy night.
“Oh…” She moans as she feels her mind pound against her skull. “Where am I?” She thinks about where she was last. All she can remember is that she was heading back to the Cake’s bakery with bags of flour in a wheelbarrow. “It was a crisp morning… Not raining?” She rubs her head with her right hand – its three fingers running along her scalp.
A wall of water washes over her, soaking her even further. Causing her mane and tail to flap haphazardly with the winds. Pinkie shivers away the cold chills running across her body as she stares through the darkness. “What happened to me?”
Her mind pounds against her head once again. A shiver runs down her spine. ‘The ground was shaking. Ponies running from something? Bright light…’
CRACK!!!
Lighting erupts in the air like golden arches of light dancing across the sky.
Jumping, Pinkie whips her head around, looking for anything to hide her from the storm overhead.
CRACK!!!
Another, but in the quick flash of light, she sees a cabin appear in the distance. On shaking hooves, she makes her way towards the welcoming sight of shelter and warmth.
As she nears the cabin, its features begin to come into focus. From what she can see, the cabin’s interior is unlit, except for the dim flickering lamp fixture hanging by the front door. Studying it some more, she notices it’s a two-story home, with a green metal roof and thick girthy logs used for its construction.
Shivering from a cold passing breeze, she turns her attention to its door and heads up the porch’s steps.
Free from the rain, Pinkie takes the time to assess the damage done to her. Red soil stains her casual navy blue dress around the knees. The skirt of her dress is soaked as well. The top part of her dress is relatively dry by comparison. Even her short-sleeved jacket a tolerable level of dampness. “At least it won’t take too long to dry!” She breathes a sigh of relief as she grabs the base of her tail and gives it a shake. She does the same to her mane. Deep down, she knows that they’ll be a tattered mess in the morning. “Oh…” She huffs. “Rarity would go bonkers if she sees my mane like this!”
She smirks at that thought.
Patting her jacket as dry as she can, she looks at the cabin’s door. Walking up to it, she gives it a knock. “Hello?” The door swings inward, revealing the cabin’s dark interior. The door’s squealing hinges make her fur stand on end. “Um… Hello?” She peaks in, scanning the darkness nervously.
CRACK!!!
Jumping out of her skin, Pinkie timidly steps into the cabin. “I’m coming in!” She shuts the door behind her. Her eyes strain to see anything. The dim porch light seeping through the front windows barely illuminates the interior. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I’m lost, and it's raining outside!”
Only silence answers back.
“OW!” Pinkie cries as she bumps into what feels like a side table. Smiling, she runs her hands across its surface until she feels the body of a lamp. “Bingo!” She pulls its chain.
Bright light fills the room.
Pinkie scampers back from the offending light. Rubbing her eyes, she lets out a groan as she opens them. The blurriness in her vision leaves her, allowing her to see the abode in all its modest grandness.
“Wow?” Pinkie stares at the décor as she wanders through the living-room, her gawking expression never leaving as she takes in every detail. “Rarity would go nuts!” She stares at the ornate carvings on the pillars holding up the A-frame ceiling that makes up the cabin's front. “So would Twilight…” The thought of her friends saddens her. “I hope I can find a way home… I just hope I’m not too far from Ponyville?” Walking past several rocking chairs, she sees a flatscreen television above the fireplace mantel.
She tilts her head. She has never seen anything like it. It looks like a black-tinted mirror, a mirror that appears to be doing terrible at its job. ‘Why would they own a mirror that dark?’ She tilts her head to the left. ‘And why over the fireplace?’ She manages to catch the reflection of the kitchen behind her.
Turning around, she eyes it staring at the dimly lit space, just catching a glimpse of a fridge. Feeling pain in her stomach, she bites her lower lip as she meanders over to the room.
Stepping through the archway that separated the living room and kitchen, she flips on a light switch allowing the tiny space to be illuminated with soft white light. The four lights above sing an audible hum while the fifth by the laundry room buzzes and flickers.
Ignoring the light, she studies the comfy but modern-looking décor.
The kitchen contains all the obvious appliances a kitchen requires. A silver-colored fridge with a touchscreen display on its right door and a water/ice dispenser on its left door. Bedide the fridge is a gas-powered stove similar in make and color scheme. A black marble laden countertop wraps around the kitchen in an L-shape – dividing the room in two, making the other half into a de facto dining area. Cupboards hang from the walls above the sink and part of the countertop, making it whole and cozy.
Feeling her stomach growl, she steps up to the fridge. “Um, if you can hear me, I was wondering if I could have something to eat?” Eyeing the refrigerator, she notices pictures pinned to its surface by magnets. Curious, she looks at each one, studying the stories they tell.
One of the pictures she looks at shows a two-legged creature like her, wearing red swim trunks. But unlike her, its appearance is vastly different. For starters, it's furless, minus a few spots like its stomach, chest, arms, legs, and armpits. Granted, the fur that’s there is thinner compared to her fur’s thickness by a mile. Its mane is short, its style wavy, and it's tail… well, it has none. Its ears are… well, she couldn’t describe it. They’re small, tiny. ‘How can it hear with those ears?’ She wonders while rubbing her ears with a puzzled look. Looking at the creature some more, she guesses it's a stallion according to its masculine features. Looking down at its hooves… No… Her snout wrinkles as she glares at the stubby appendages attached to its feet. “They’re like Spike’s clawed feet… But less sharp?”
Turning her attention to another picture, she sees the same creature standing next to a similar-looking creature that’s more feminine in appearance. This creature has long blonde hair. Her skin a tan-colored hue compared to the male's pale-white. She notices that, unlike the male, she has no fur on her body. For Pinkie, that’s the strangest thing. Shaking her head of the thought, she stares at the final two creatures in the photo. Standing in front of the male and female are two smaller creatures, a boy and a girl. “They must be their children?”
She looked at the two pictures for some time. But the more she looks, her smile turns into a frown.
“Never seen ponies… I mean creatures like them?” Pinkie turns her attention to the other photos on the fridge. “They seem so happy…” She looks at her surroundings. “It feels wrong being in their house without asking…” She forces herself to smile, however. “Maybe I can make it up to them by baking them a cake!” She gazes at the photos again. “Then again, I haven’t seen creatures like them… and they might not have seen creatures like me?”
She’s drawn to another photo.
This particular photo shows the boy and girl playing with an even stranger-looking creature. The creature seems to be made of metal if she could believe it. Its body is circular, about three feet in diameter – three large camera-looking eyes stick out of its body just above its equator line. Four lanky arms jut out and hang from its base alongside a cylindrical tube-like contraption surrounded by three blue glowing rings.
A smile grows across her lips.
“I hope I can meet these creatures?” Her smile falters again. “I just hope they’re not mad at me for entering their home without asking…” She bites on her nails on her left hand. “And the cake I’ll make for them?” Feeling her stomach growl once more. She blushes and gently opens the fridge.
A faint musty smell assaults her snout. Then a horrid one. To her horror, the fridge’s interior is mostly bare, and what food remained had rotted away long ago. Holding the urge to puke, she slams the fridge shut and steps back, holding a hand over her mouth.
“Oh…” Taking a deep breath to rid her mind of the awful smell, she looks teary-eyed at her surroundings. The flickering light buzzing loudly above her head unnerves her already tattered emotions. “Is any pony even here?”
She listens to the quiet.
For anything…
Just rain. Only the drumming of the rain.
Just wind. Only the howling of the wind.
Gulping down a knot forming in her throat, she wanders back into the living room. “No… Err!” Her headache returns. “Where am I?”
CRASH!!!
She pins herself against the back of the couch, scanning her surroundings, looking for the source of the noise.
CLUNK!!!
Hearing it coming from the back of the house, Pinkie slowly makes her way over to the first-floor hallway. Standing before its entrance, she stares down the darkness. She can make out a room on either side of the hall and a bathroom at the end.
THUMP!!!
Looking directly to her right, she sees a flight of stairs leading to the basement. “Those loud sounds are coming from down there…” Again, she hears what sounds like a bag of bricks being dragged across the floor. Her awareness heightens. The fur on the back of her neck stands erect as she descends the stairs. “Hello?”
Getting to the bottom of the steps, she finds that only darkness graces her vision. The lights from the other rooms barely illuminate the basement. She sniffs the air. It's musty. The distinctive smell of wet cement and rusting metal fills her nostrils. Squinting her eyes, she slowly wanders further into the basement’s abyss. “Where would I be if I were a light switch?” She mumbles to herself, trying her best to lighten the mood. Feeling the wall on her left, she slides her hands across the sheetrock until she hits a small bump. “Found you!”
“INTRUDER… ER!!!”
Three bright red eyes appear from the darkness.
“AH!!!” Pinkie stumbles back as the eyes draw near. Her hooves dig into the concrete floor as her legs propel her away from the offending eyes. In her panic, she feels what appears to be a broom lying next to her. In haste, she grabs it and thrusts it at one of the eyes. The creature stumbles back. “OW…” It groans in a metallic British-sounding tone before slumping to the ground, its red eyes turning a soft blue.
Shivering, Pinkie backs herself up against the wall. Instinctively, her hands' research for the light switch. Finding it once again, she flips it on. A soft orange glow fills the room, revealing what the eyes are attached to.
Pinkie stares awestricken by the creature’s appearance. “That’s the creature from the photo with the little creatures…” She reminds herself. Timidly, she steps up the specimen and pokes one of its camera-like eyes with a finger.
“Excuse me… That’s a little rude…” The creature groans as it studies her. “Strange? My optical drives are picking up that you identify as a pony.” One of its eyes leans in closer, causing Pinkie to lean back with a blush. “But you don’t look like a pony?”
Pinkie stares wide-eyed. “Oh…” Her head tilts slightly. ‘It can talk... It can talk!’ She quickly sits beside it, sitting on her knees as she does so. “I’m sorry.” She lifts her hands to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She studies its questioning gaze or what she thinks is a questioning gaze. “And to answer your question, I am a pony?” She answers with a smile, trying her best to reassure its worries.
The creature’s eyes lock onto her. “You can talk?” It looks down at the ground. “My audio sensors must be fried?”
Pinkie tilts her head to the other side, “Audio, what now?” Her nervous demeanor leaves as she ponders the creature’s strange way of talking about itself. “You mean ears?” She flops hers up and down while she looks for anything that looks like ears, but alas, she finds none.
“No, not ears, audio sensors, you numb-nut!” The creature’s eyes shoot up – the shutters within its eyes, representing what looked to be a glare to Pinkie. “Oh…” The creature halts so it could process her words some more, “Interesting, it can understand me…” Its eyes look away in several directions. “And talk…” It looks back at Pinkie and stares at her some more. “Pink… apparently, the so-called pony is pink…” It lays its eyes on the floor. “I do believe my optical drives are malfunctioning as well.”
Pinkie raises her brow. “I’m clearly right here?” She points at herself. “In the flesh!”
The creature stares at her for some time. “I guess you’re right.” It quips. It looks around and notices the stairs. “How did you get in?”
Pinkie blushes. “Um, the door was open?”
The creature stares at her for a short while before it nods its eyes. “Good enough for me.” It laughs in a stuttering tone. “My owners must have let you in?” It hums a little ditty.
Pinkie feels her cheeks blush. ‘So those creatures from the photos owned him like a pet…’ She shivers. ‘Its owners were not home!’ She gives the creature a smile. “Um,” She begins. “They’re not here…” She lets out a nervous laugh, hoping it wouldn’t get mad. “The door was open.”
The creature stays silent as it glares at her for a few seconds. “Why did you enter in the first place?” Its eyes turn a soft yellow.
Something tells Pinkie that the color’s a warning. Her nerves start getting the best of her. “Well, you see,” She talks with a stutter. “I…” Her emotions let loose. “I don’t know! One moment I’m walking back to the bakery, my place of work, and then all of a sudden, BOOM! BLAM! The ground was shaking and then a flash of white light, and then it was cold and raining, and I ended up in this forest with tall red colored trees. And with all the lighting and thunder, I found this place…” She sobs. “I’m lost, and I think I’m a long way from home!” She flops on the floor, her back laying on the cold concrete as her arms and legs splayed out. “I don’t know where home even is?” She stares at the light above, watching it pulse from each surge of electricity passing through its filaments.
The creature looks down at her, its eyes turning back to a soft blue. It is amazed by how fast she could speak. But it’s not a problem for it. “Interesting story… pony.” It moves its eyes closer to her. “I believe you.”
Pinkie looks up at the creature with puffy eyes. “You do?”
“Yes, pony, I do.” The creature nods its three eyes.
“You know I have a name.” She huffs. “My name is Pinkie Pie.” She sits up, wiping away her tears. “What’s your name?”
The creature lifts one of its arms and points at itself. “My name is Wadsworth.”
Pinkie smiles. “Hello, Wadsworth!” She giggles. “I like your name!”
“Thanks, Miss. Pinkie!” Wadsworth hums a little ditty.
Pinkie looks over Wadsworth, studying his metal appearance. “Um, Wadsworth.” She blushes. “Um, not to sound rude, but what are you?”
“Well, I’m a service robot!” Wadsworth proclaims by raising one of his right arms. “And not just any robot, I’m a Mr. Handy service bot, series 2!”
Pinkie raises her brow. “Robot… Mr. Handy?” She messes with her mane. “What’s a robot?”
Wadsworth looks at her with his own bout of confusion. “You have never seen a robot before?” She shakes her head. “Have you been living under a rock?”
Before she can reply, her headache from earlier returns, halting any train of thought. “I guess you could say that…” She mostly talks to herself. The inkling of where she might be, crawls its way back into her mind. ‘Am I even still in Equestria?’ She shivers at that thought... ‘There are no robots that I know of…’
Wadsworth scratches his dome with one of his arms. “Interesting… What type of rock was it?”
Pinkie’s eyes go wide. Her cheeks blush as she glares at the robot. “Really, you were using a metaphor, and then you took it seriously?!” She sticks out her bottom lip.
Wadsworth twitches. “What type of rock?”
Pinkie groans. “Granite!”
Wadsworth brings his three eyes closer to Pinkie, causing her to lean back, blushing all the while. “Fascinating…” He hums. “Since you do not know of robots. I’ll give you a little history lesson about them…” He laughs. “Well, to be specific, mostly about us, Mr. Handy service bots, since that’s the only history I know.”
Pinkie smirks at Wadsworth. “Well, tell me your story…” She giggles as she rests her hands in her lap. “Who were your parents?
“Not parents, creators!” Wadsworth corrects her. “I was developed by Syconia Industries. I was based on a robotic character from a hit video game series some thirty years ago called [Redacted], but the video game company [Redacted] they weren’t happy with Syconia using their design without permission. So, to make a long story short, after seventy-six lawsuits and billions of dollars wasted, Syconia secured the rights to use the character’s likeness and introduced Mr. Handy to the world!”
Pinkie just stares at Wadsworth. Half of what he said flew over her head. Stuff about Syconia, video games, redacted… who is this redacted? She shakes her head. “Interesting story.” She gives a smile anyway. “Sounds like you’re proud of it?”
Wadsworth hums. “You bet missy-missy, ma issy-issy-issy… ERRrrrr!” His eyes go dark and limp, falling to the floor with thuds.
“Wadsworth?!” Pinkie stands in a panic. Letting out a scared moan, she bends down, resting her left ear on his body, trying to hear anything like a heartbeat. “Are you alright?!” She worried that the first pony… no, the first robot she’s met is dead. “Please! Get up… Uh?!”
Wadsworth’s eyes glow blue as a hum radiates from his body. His eyes rise from the ground, their apertures close and open several times before they turn to face her. “That was a doozy!”
Pinkie feels a chill of relief wash over her. “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright!” She gives him a pat on the top of his round body. “What happened? Why did your eyes go all dark, and your voice gets all stuttery?”
Wadsworth goes stiff of a short second. Pinkie hears several beeps sound off. Whatever he’s doing, it seems to of worked as his posture returns to normal. “I do believe my power supply is low.” He replies, looking at Pinkie with tired-looking eyes.
“Power supply?” Pinkie's eyes go wide. “You run on batteries like a flashlight?”
“Technically, yes, but my batteries are ion-fusion cells, not your messily double-A’s or C’s.”
“What can I do to help?”
Wadsworth turns his gaze towards some metal cabinets at the other end of the basement to his right. “I need to replace my cell. I do believe my owners stored some extras in those cabinets over there.”
“Okey Dokie!” Pinkie gives the robot a smirk and a playful salute as she heads over to the cabinets. “What does your, um, ion-fusion-y cells look like?”
“It’s a metal cylinder with a central ion core,” Wadsworth replies. “The glowing rod within should be blue in color.”
Pinkie opens one of the metal cabinets. Looking inside, she sees six cores dimly glowing. Their casings are grey in color. White plastic handles adorn their tops. On their right sides are small displays showing different numbers. “What do the numbers mean?”
“They’re digital displays showing how much of a charge is left.” Wadsworth hums as he messes with one of his limp arms.
Pinkie hums a tune as she reads the numbers. Seeing one that displays ninety-eight percent, she gently drags it out of the cabinet before giving it her all to lift it off the ground. To say she wasn’t ready for such a feat is an understatement. The ion-cell itself weighs eighty pounds. Her eyes bulge from the strain, causing her left eye to twitch in protest. Gathering her strength, she meanders over to Wadsworth. ‘This is heavier than it looks!’ Getting to the robot, she places the cell beside him. “Now what?” She gasps for air.
Wadsworth lifts one of his arms. “There is a panel on my back,” He points to the spot. “You need to open it and turn off the breaker that’s labeled cell change.”
Breaker… That term makes Pinkie nervous. It sounds painful even. “Won’t that hurt you?” She taps her index fingers together.
“No, Miss. Pinkie, I shall be fine.” Wadsworth waves her worries away. “After that, twist and remove the old cell from the bottom of my gravity conductors.” He points at the metal cylinder surrounded by three glowing blue rings at the base of his body.
Pinkie gives a slow nod and gets behind Wadsworth. Seeing the latch, she notices that it’s a simple ‘push and turn’ handle. Gently pushing it in, a solid metallic snap sounds off, alerting her that it's unlocked. She pulls the handle; the meal hatch falls forward, revealing a panel with four switches. Seeing one labeled ‘CELL CHANGER,’ she flips it into the off position.
Wadsworth’s extremities go limp as his systems shut down. Nervous by the lack of movement, Pinkie quickly moves to his gravity conductors, grabs the spent ion-cell handle, and gives it a twist. It doesn’t budge. With a grunt, she puts all her strength into the motion and manages to pry the threads apart. Hearing the hiss of the rubber gasket coming loose, she pulls on the cell, dragging it away.
Letting out a sigh, she looks at the new ion-cell and an incapacitated Wadsworth. Realizing her situation, she lets out a low growl. “This is going to take some time…”
Grabbing the fresh ion-cell, she sets it down in front of Wadsworth’s gravity conductor. Sitting on her knees, she takes the positive end of the cell and wiggles it in, making sure that its guide rods line up. Feeling confident that the battery is secure enough, she gets behind it and pushes until its slides into place with a sold click. Giggling, she twists it until the rubber gasket seals shut once again. Giving herself a pat on the back, she walks up to Wadsworth’s backside and flips the switch back on, locking the latch shut.
A soft humming sound fills the room as Wadsworth systems come back online. She watches as he rises into the air. His arms and eyes bob about as they readjust their internal calibrations. With several more beeps and boops, he looks over at Pinkie and gives her a bow from the looks of it. “Thank you.” Wadsworth moves his arms as he floats around her. “I never felt better!”
Pinkie gives a bow in return. “Glad I could be of assistance.” She giggles at her words.
“Miss. Pinkie. You did say earlier that my owners were not home?” Wadsworth asks. “Do you know where they might be?”
Pinkie shakes her head. “Sorry, I don't know.” She puts her hands over her lap. The house looked like it's been empty for along time. When I opened the fridge, the food inside was moldy.” Wadsworth stays silent as he looks up at the top of the stairs. Pinkie walks up closer to the robot. “Wadsworth?” He looks down at her. “How long have you been down here?”
He stays still as he processes her words. “I’m not sure?” He looks at his surroundings. “My data algorithm says about… Twenty years…” His eyes go limp as he floats up the stairs.
Pinkie quickly follows.
Getting to the top of the stairs, Wadsworth roams the house. “Madam? Sire?”
Pinkie feels her chest tighten. ‘His artificial voice sounds lost.’
“Madam?” He cries as he floats up the stairs to the second story. She about to follow him when he calls out again. “SIRE!” His voice sounds broken, sporadic. He quickly descends the stairs, the lights in his eyes rapidly turning from blue to red. He stops just in front of the front door, his four limbs gently kissing the hardwood floor.
Pinkie lets out a held breath as she steps up to the distraught robot. “Wadsworth?”
“They’re gone, are they?” His eyes turn a dark shade of blue.
Pinkie stands next to him. The silence makes her uncomfortable. It didn’t help that the rain striking the windows sounds like haunting drums. “I’m sorry that they’re not here…” She looks at the robot and watches his eyes bounce about, looking around at random objects. “Maybe we can find them together.” She takes one of his metal-looking pinchers in her hand. "Where ever they are."
Wadsworth looks at Pinkie with one of his eyes. “Thank you, Miss. Pinkie.” He turns to face her. “And I will help you find your home. Where ever it is?”
Pinkie smiles. “Friends?”
Wadsworth looks puzzeled. “Friends?”
Pinkie smirks as she puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, friends!” She offers him a hand. “Bestest of friends!”
Wadsworth takes her hand and gives it a shake. “Bestest of friends, Miss. Pinkie.”
Pinkie stands under the doorframe of the front door. The fresh morning air washes into the house. She breathes in its crispness and lets out a soft hum as she crosses her arms. With the sun slowly rising, she’s able to see the forest she was in last night in all its natural grandness. As Wadsworth had told her, the redwood trees are the most impressive trees she has ever seen. They put the trees of the Everfree to shame. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that trees could grow that tall.
Hearing the chirping of birds, she lets out a sigh and steps into the cabin. “Wadsworth?”
“Yes, Miss. Pinkie?”
Pinkie steps into the laundry room and sees the robot hovering over the dryer. “You know you can just call me Pinkie?” She watches her navy blue dress, jacket, and undergarments tumbling about within the dryer’s wheel. ‘Twilight would go nuts over this contraption?’ Frankly, to be honest, she would too. It would make doing her least favorite chore, her laundry, ten times faster.
“Sorry, Miss. Pinkie. A force of habit or programming. Whatever you prefer.” Wadsworth laughs.
Pinkie rolls her eyes. “Well, I guess Miss. Pinkie is fine.” She smirks. “But I want you to say it with a skip in your… um, hover. I want you to sing it!” She proclaims as she sits on the washing machine.
“Miss Pinkie!” Wadsworth sings, his robotic voice flawlessly keeping a tune. The dryer makes a dull thud and dings, alerting them that it finished its task. “Your clothes are done.” He pulls them out and gently hands them to her.
She takes them and instantly feels a chill of delight wash over her. “Oh, they’re so warm?” She looks at Wadsworth. “Thank you for cleaning them.”
Wadsworth hums. “Anything for you, Miss. Pinkie!”
Pinkie smiles as she walks out of the laundry room and into the restroom down the hall. Setting her clothes on the counter beside the sink. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her mane is a frizzy mess. She blows out a long breath as she messes with it. “Oh, colt…”
With a sigh, she takes off her nightgown. Holding it in her hands, the silky texture of the gown slides around her fingers with ease. It had felt strange to wear someone else's clothing, but Wadsworth insisted that she do so. “Don’t want to chafe from wet clothes.” He had told her, and she couldn't argue with that. Her dress was a mess last night. She continues to rub her fingers across the fabric. Her nightgowns back home were just plain old cotton; they were nothing like this. She likes the texture. It felt like sleeping on a cloud when she wore it last night…
“Admiring Madam’s nightgown Miss. Pinkie?”
“YEEP!” Seeing Wadsworth hovering outside the bathroom, Pinkie blushes as she tries to cover herself. “Wadsworth! I’m naked!”
He stays silent as he looks her over. “It seems you are, Miss. Pinkie. But must I remind you that I am a service bot. Trivial things like nudity don’t bother me.” He laughs. “I guess ponies are like humans. Concerned about trivial matters.” He hums as he floats away.
Pinkie feels her cheeks get redder and redder. ‘Humans are the same as ponies…’ Wadsworth did tell her the name of his owner’s species last night, which led to a myriad of questions that would've made her friend Twilight blush. “Are the same…” Her cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Signing a nervous little ditty, she quickly puts on her C-cup cotton bra and her underwear. Still blushing, she puts on her navy-blue dress and finally slips on her wool jacket, buttoning up its four buttons.
Breathing out a sigh, Pinkie tries in vain to get her mane under control before heading into the living room. Stepping out of the hall, she sees Wadsworth hovering by the front door with a grey-colored backpack in his robotic crab-like hands. “Aw, Miss. Pinkie. I see you are dressed.”
She blushes. “Yep.” She holds out the nightgown. “What do you want me to do with this?”
Wadsworth takes the nightgown and stuffs it into the bag. “It’s yours now. I take it since Madam left it; she didn’t want it anymore…” His eyes drop a little while his hover’s height lowers closer to the ground. “Like me…”
Pinkie frowns at his demeanor. “Don’t say that, Wadsworth. I’m sure they miss you?” She takes the backpack and slings it over her shoulder. “Once we find them, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you again.”
Wadsworth looks at her for a short while before letting out a small ditty. “Thank you, Miss. Pinkie” He floats into the kitchen. “And I do believe that they will be thrilled to see you!” He takes several thermoses out of a cupboard and fills them.
“You do?” Pinkie wonders as she watches him. “You don’t think they’ll think of me differently because of my appearance?” Her smile grows.
“I believe Madam, Mister, and the kids would love to get to know you.” Wadsworth opens the backpack and puts the thermoses in. “But others, I do not know of their intentions.” He pats her on the head, causing her to blush. “We’ll get to that road when we get there.” He floats on over to the front door. “Ready, Miss. Pinkie?”
Pinkie smirks as she tightens the backpack’s straps. “You bet, ready to explore the wilderness of… um… What's the name of your country again?”
“The United States of America!”
“Right…” The explanation he gave last night to her was somewhat confusing – countries within a country. “And what state?”
“California, Miss. Pinkie!” Wadsworth hums as he heads out the door.
“Cali-for-nia?” Pinkie tells herself. She frowns at the strange name, especially one for a country… no – state. Readjusting her backpack, she heads down the porch’s steps and walks alongside Wadsworth? “Where to?”
“I say let's head into the city.”
“City…” Pinkie feels herself shiver with excitement. “What's the name of the city?”
“Good old San Francisco!”
“Ah, here we are, Muir Woods Train Station!” Wadsworth sings as he makes his way over to the cozy-looking station.
Pinkie stares at all the symbols dotting the sign’s wooden construction. “What does Caltrian mean?” She eyes a logo showing the word ‘Caltrain’ – ‘Cal’ is colored black, while ‘train’ is colored white and inside the borders of a red dot.
“It's one of the many railroad companies in California!” He calls from the entrance of the station. “Caltrain extended this line back in 2025. To provide a faster route to Muir Woods Natural Monument.”
Pinkie nods as she follows Wadsworth but stops when she catches a glimpse of a red-colored engine and its dark-grey-colored cars sitting idly at the station's platform. She looks for the telltale signs of the chimney steam trains have, but she doesn't see one to her disappointment. “Where’s the chimney?”
“It's not a steam train, Miss. Pinkie. It’s an ‘MPI MP36 diesel-powered locomotive.”
Pinkie keeps staring at the train as she mulls over his words. “Diesel?...” She follows him into the station. “It’s like a putter-wagon?” She asks mostly to herself as she enters.
The interior of the station itself is relatively bland. Most of the overhead lights are dim or dying, setting the station's mood to be one of unsettling wonder. Dust covers every surface creating an eerie dusty winter wonderland of sorts. Pinkie walks past several rows of benches, once used by passengers waiting for their train. Stopping in the center of the station, she looks up at the large mountain-themed chandelier that still sparkles in the rays of the morning sun, shining through the large glass windows lining the trim that’s dividing the base of the ceiling and tops of the walls.
Sighing, Pinkie looks to her right and sees several gift shops. Seeing one of them is not closed off to her by a metal rolling door, she wanders up to it and eyes the different gift cards and knick-knacks that still fill its shelves. Seeing a gift card of a large grizzly bear catching a fish, she picks it up and looks into the barren store. Seeing no one, Pinkie takes out her coin bag from her jacket’s breast pocket, takes out one bit, and places it on the counter.
“Oh, Miss. Pinkie, we need a ticket!”
Pinkie looks over her shoulder and sees Wadsworth over by a large red painted contraption that looks to be built in a U-shape. Placing the gift card in her backpack, she walks over to the Mr. Handy bot. “Where is the booking clerk?”
“The booking clerk is right here. It's a ticket-o-matic. Fast, efficient, and top of the line.” Wadsworth taps on the counter.
The machinery on the other side hums as a thin three-inch slot on its face opens, reviling red glowing lights that look like eyes to Pinkie. “Please state your destination?” It asks in a robotic drawl.
“Two tickets to San Francisco.” Wadsworth hums.
The robot lets out a low growl. “That will be thirty-five dollars per ticket, please.”
Pinkie raises her brow. “Dollars… Oh, bits.” She mumbles to herself. “What a strange name to call bits, but whatever…” She pulls out her coin purse once again and counts her coins. ‘Twenty-seven.’ She frowns. “Wadsworth!” She whispers. “I don’t have that many bits!”
Wadsworth stares at her. “Bits?” Seeing the coins, his processing clicks. “Oh… Oh, dear.”
Pinkie smirks. “Maybe we can bargain for a better price.” She leans on the counter and rests her head in her right hand. “Hello, Mister O-Matic!” The robot looks at her. “I was wondering if you had discounts for foreign travelers?”
The ticket-o-matic looks at her for some time. “NO! Thirty-Five dollars per ticket… Please!”
Pinkie frowns. “No… But, come on! Thirty-Five is ridiculous!”
“Please pay or leave!”
Pinkie frowns. “You gotta work with me.” She gives the robot the most enormous puppy eyes she can. “You can’t say no to this face!”
“No discounts!”
“Really, You like, have no discounts?”
“Yes!”
“You have discounts!” Pinkie smiles.
“No! No! Traveler, we have none!” The ticket-o-matic grumbles.
“None?” She huffs dramatically.
“YES!”
Wadsworth looks at the two with growing interest. “This is going to be fascinating.”
“Like, none, none?”
“YES! LIKE, NONE! NONE!”
“What about a fifty percent discount?”
“NoOo!”
“How about fifty-one percent?”
“No… wait… what?”
“Fifty-one and a half and quarter and two-thirds?”
“That makes no mathematical sense?”
“What if I write a good review?” Pinkie smiles. “One that will give you a raise!”
The ticket-o-matic’s eyes go stiff as it tries to process her barrage of questions. “I am not paid for my task…” Its eyes start to rapidly go side to side. “Not… paid!!!” Its eyes are a blur, making its ‘eye’ slit one solid red line of light. Loud sounds erupt from the machine. Its mouth-looking piece opens up.
“Um, what’s happening?” Pinkie backs up.
“I do believe you broke it, Miss. Pinkie.” Wadsworth watches the machine's meltdown with robotic fascination.
An endless stream of tickets spews forth from its mouth. Pinkie stares, wide-eyed, as she watches them arch over her and collides into a nice pile behind her. Wadsworth’s three eyes track the tickets. With a quick motion, he plucks two ticks from the air and hands one to Pinkie. “Here is your ticket.”
Pinkie takes the ticket with a blush. “I didn’t mean to break it…” Her eyes continue to watch the memorizing stream of paper.
“No worries, Miss. Pinkie.” Wadsworth heads to the station’s platform. “Ticket-o-matics are very temperamental.”
Exiting the station, they make their way to the train they saw earlier. Standing in front of one of its cars, Pinkie listens to the idle droning of its motors. Its deep bassy hums make it sound like it's alive. She shivers as she feels the vibrations wash over her. “The trains back home have nothing on this!” She comments.
“Mighty motors these trains have,” Wadsworth states looking at the engine.
Hearing what sounds like cans falling over, Pinkie looks to her right and sees a silhouette of a figure standing at the end of the platform. She can’t make out its details, but she sees it has a short torso and long lanky limbs. Its head is cylindrical in shape, like a security camera. It's one eye glowing a soft baby-blue.
She watches it clench its fists, its posture turning stiff – its eyes turning a deep cherry-red. She didn’t know if it saw Wadsworth and her, but it makes its way onto the train with an aggressive stride. “Did you see that?” Her voice feels like it's stuck in her throat.
Wadsworth looks where she is. “It must’ve been another passenger or the conductor.”
Pinkie frowns. “They seem upset.” She lets a small smile adore her lips. “Maybe I can cheer them up…!” The door to the cars open. Looking down the train one last time, Pinkie steps into the train with Wadsworth following after. Eying the car’s interior, they see eight seats lining the car's far side by the windows. Three round dining tables that can seat four fill the center. At the gangway's end is a bar manned by a robot with an oval-shaped head and green eyes, mindlessly arranging glass cups with its noodle-like arms.
“Very cozy.” Pinkie smiles. “!?” Before they can sit down, the doors behind them shut, and the train lurches forward. Hearing the muffled echoes of the diesel engine, Pinkie looks out the door’s window and sees the station slowly pulling away. “That was fast.”
“Yes, very efficient!” Wadsworth states as he floats over to a seat. “Why don’t you set your stuff down, Miss. Pinkie.” She complies and sets her bag on the table in the middle of two seats that face each other. “If you want Miss. Pinkie, you can go and explore this train. We’ll not be in San Francisco for another three hours.”
“Won’t you be lonely?”
“I’ll be fine.” Wadsworth hovers over by the window. “I shall be enjoying the view.”
Pinkie nods as she walks to the back of the car. Standing in front of the bar, she eyes the robot on the other side. “Hello!”
The robot looks up. “Hello, Miss.” Its voice is cheery and upbeat. “What can I do you for?”
“What kind of drinks do you serve?” Pinkie sits in one of the bar stools.
“I serve acholic and non-acholic beverages.” The robot sets down the glass it is cleaning. “If you would like an acholic beverage, I’ll need to see some ID.”
Pinkie rubs her chin. “ID?” She looks through her coin purse and pulls out her government passport.
The robot takes her passport and gives it a read. Seeing that Pinkie is twenty-four years old, it hands it back with a hum. “Congrats, you are of the legal limit.”
Pinkie takes her card. “What is the legal limit?”
“From your passport, I could tell you’re not from around here.” Pinkie nods. “Well, it's twenty-one.”
Pinkie raises her brow. “It's eighteen where I'm from.”
“Ah, from Europe.” Pinkie tilts her head at the name, but the robot ignores her expression as he gives her a menu. “For being a foreigner, you speak relatively good English.”
Pinkie’s ears stand erect. “English?” The robot nods. She picks up the menu and eyes the lettering. ‘Oh…’ How could she have missed it? She’s seen plenty of evidence that her language and the human language were eerily similar. If she was Twilight, she would invest her waking hours understanding the ‘how's’ and ‘whys,’ but Twilight she is not. “Humans are the same as ponies…” Those words Wadsworth told her this morning were enough to satisfy her. “Thank you for the compliment, mister?”
“Jerry, the Bartender!” Jerry waves.
Pinkie waves as she eyes the non-alcoholic drinks. Seeing one labeled truffle cocoa, she licks her lips at the description. “Could I have one of these?”
Jerry sees what she is pointing at and nods. “One truffle cocoa coming right up!”
Pinkie rests her head in her hands as she watches him make her drink with ease.
PISST – SPERRR!
The gangway door opens.
Pinkie looks to her left and sees a tall robot staring down at her. She recognizes it as the figure from the other end of the station. Its security-camera-like head glares down at her. “Ticket… PLEASE!”
Pinkie shivers as she takes her ticket out from her jacket’s breast pocket. “Here you go, mister… YEEP!”
The Conductor takes the ticket and gives it a glare before placing it into his chest. A soft knock sounds off, and it pops back out. “Enjoy your ride…” It hands her the ticket… “MISS!” It growls as it walks over to Wadsworth. “TICKET!”
Wadsworth produces it for his fellow robot. “Here you go.”
The exact process happens, and the Conductor hands him back the ticket. “ENJOY! Your ride…” It leaves their car.
Still eyeing the door, Pinkie gulps down her nervousness. “He seems to be in a good mood.”
Wadsworth looks at both her and the door. “Oh, yes, very much so.”
“Your drink, miss.” Jerry places her drink before her.
Pinkie tears her eyes from the door and looks down at the steaming cup of goodness. “How much?”
“Four dollars and fifty cents.”
“Will five bits work?” Pinkie hands over the coins.
Jerry looks at the gold coins and nods. “Make that two because gold is gold…”
Pinkie lets out a sigh of relief and picks up her cup. Her eyes dilate as the rich chocolate, nutmeg, and truffle flavors slide down her throat. Letting out a long hum, Pinkie giggles as she holds the cup close to her chest. “This is amazing!”
“I’m glad you like it.” Jerry bows.
……
The Conductor gets to the train’s engine and opens the door. “We have two… PASSENGERS!!!” It looks at operators as it steps inside.
The robotic driver on the Conductor’s left looks over its shoulder. The robot is humanoid in shape from the waist up. Its upper torso is attached to a cone-shaped base in front of an array of controls. The Conductor looks to its right and sees the skeletal remains of a long diseased human operator. Their bones lay haphazardly over the desk of the control panel. The Conductor glares at the gaping hole in the back of the skeleton's skull. Its open jaw expression, maybe once a scream of pain.
Looking at the passing landscape through the cracked windshield, the Conductor lets out a deep growl. “ONLY… TWO! PASSENGERS!!!”
Pinkie sits beside Wadsworth as she finishes her third cup of cocoa truffle. “You have to try this, it's so good!” She pleads with him.
“Miss. Pinkie, again, I thank you for the offer, but I lack the tools necessary to consume beverages.” Wadsworth pats her on the head, causing her to frown.
“Fine… But it's your loss!” She swallows the last gulp of her drink.
Wadsworth sees something that catches his fancy and turns Pinkie’s head to face it. “Look!”
Pinkie and Wadsworth stare out at the landscape of a small town rolling on past them. “Is that San Francisco?”
“No, Miss. Pinkie, that’s Tamalpais Valley.” Wadsworth takes a photo using one of his eyes. With a low hum, a printed photograph pops out from a slot on his body. “Once we get to Sausalito, you’ll be able to see San Francisco in the distance.” He hands her the photo.
Pinkie stares at the colored photo. She’s never seen anything like it. So crisp and clear. Nothing like the photos back home, so fuzzy and out of focus. “Thank you.” She puts the picture in her backpack. With a yawn and a stretch, she stands up and puts on her backpack. “I’ll be exploring since I had my fill of cocoa!” She states, heading to the back of the car where the bar is.
“Enjoy your adventure, Miss. Pinkie!” Wadsworth hums as he keeps his gaze of the passing landscape.
With a nod, Pinkie heads for the door.
“Miss?”
Pinkie looks over at Jerry, the bartender, and smiles. “Yes?”
“I warmed this up for you.” Jerry hands her a small plate with a warm gooey brownie on top.
Pinkie smiles at the plate. Taking it, she gives it a sniff. It smells lovely, but… The thought of the rotten food within the fridge from the cabin makes her queasy. ‘The coco was good.’ She tells herself. With a sigh, she takes a bite. “Wow…” Her eyes go wide. “This is good!” She goes to pull out her coin purse. “How much?”
“On the house.” Jerry holds up a robotic hand to stop her. “Enjoy.”
Pinkie smiles and leaves the car.
Entering the next car of the train, Pinkie finds that it’s a passenger car and not like the dining car she was in previously. Two levels of seating are on either side of her totaling about fifty or so seats, impressive, more than the train cars back home. Finding the decor of this car rather dull, however, she makes her way to the next. This one is about the same, minus the side on her left being a rack space for bicycles. Seeing three bikes laying in a tilted manner at the far end beside one of the train’s doors, Pinkie walks up to them and messes with one of the bikes.
It’s a peculiar design compared to the bikes from her world.
This bike has more of a curvy shape than her bike’s boxier one. She moves her hands over the bike’s handles and feels the soft rubber that coats them; it’s a better feeling than the hard leather of hers. The bike’s tire rims are made of metal and not wood, which makes them look sleeker in appearance. Seeing the bell at the base of the left handle, she runs her fingers over it and pulls its lever to its apex, and let's go.
A soft ring sounds off, eliciting a smile.
“Admiring… the BIKE!”
Pinkie jumps back from the bike – her heart skipping a beat. She looks over at the source of the voice and sees the Conductor standing over her. Its eye glares at her with conflicting intentions. It's color a mix of yellow hues. “Um…” She’s nervous by its tone, but she still doesn't want to hurt its feelings. ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover!’ She chastises herself. “Yes… Yes, I was.” She looks at the bike. “It's different from my bike back home.” She gives the Conductor a smile.
The Conductor stays silent as it looks at Pinkie and the bike. “Different? Home?” It grumbles as it bends down, getting uncomfortably close to her face. “I didn’t NOTICE before, but NOW I DO! You don’t look, HUMAN!” The apertures within its eye move back n’ forth. “What are you?”
Pinkie swallows a lump in her throat. “I’m a pony…” She gives a weary smile. “An earth pony to be precise.” She fights to rid herself of her nervousness.
The Conductor lets out a robotic grumble. “Pony?” It looks her over. “Your face and feet look like a pony… BUT the REST of you doesn't!”
“Well, I’m a pony through and through!” She playfully pouts.
The Conductor stands up. It’s gaze, never leaving. “I need… PROOF!”
Pinkie shivers at his growl. Gulping down her fears, she pulls out a single bit from her coin purse. “Um… This is the currency we use back home…”
The Conductor swipes it's out of her hands and studies the gold coin. “Equestria?” It reads. “Is this the name of your country?” Pinkie nods. “Interesting…” It walks away.
“Hey?!” Pinkie whines. “Where are you going with my bit?” She follows after it.
The robot stays silent as it makes its way to the back of the train. With them arriving at the last train car, the robot places the coin in a jar with others. Pinkie stops at the door and looks into the dimly lit room illuminated by soft glowing orange colored lights strewn about the space. The room is filled to the brim with an assortment of knick-knacks and other hodgepodge items bulging from the makeshift cupboards hugging the walls.
Seeing the Conductor staring at the jar, Pinkie timidly steps up to the robot, clasping her hands over her lap. “You have an impressive collection.” She gives a smile. “Now, you have a one of a kind coin!”
The robot stares at her with a posture that’s hard to determine. But it changes, almost showing eagerness as it looks through the mass of items before pulling out a paddle ball. “This is… a paddle ball…” It hands the object to Pinkie.
Pinkie stares at the toy, noticing the striking similarities with a similar toy back home. She begins playing with it, which makes the Conductor’s eyes light up a bright cyan almost green. It looks through the pile and pulls out a colorful cube. Pinkie takes it and studies its colors. “What’s this?”
“It’s a Rubix’s cube!” The Conductor wanders over to a large screen television.
Pinkie notices that the small squares can move independently of each other in horizontal and vertical directions. She turns the sides of the cube, its plastic gears make soft clicking sounds as they slide against each other. Figuring out that the toy is a puzzle, she smiles as she tries to figure out its mystery.
“PONY!” The conductor grunts. “You enjoying the CUBE?”
“Yep!” Pinkie sticks out her bottom lip. “I take it you have to match the colors?” Six sides – six colors… “Never mind, I get it now…” She huffs as she mindlessly wanders up to the Conductor. Matching the blue side, she sets it in her left hand and throws it into the air. Catching it behind her back, she reveals to herself a solved cube. “Solved it!”
The Conductor looks over its shoulder and sees the Rubrix's cube in all its glory. Swiveling its head between Pinkie and the cube several times, it picks up the cube and studies it. Amazed by her ‘magic’ act, the robot gives her a pat on the head and sets the cube in an empty space on a nearby counter. Turning back around, it walks up to a television. Pinkie stares at the television. It is similar to the one she saw from Codsworth’s cabin. ‘Strange, he has a mirror just like Wadsworth’s owners…’ The Conductor turns it on. A field of static fills the twenty-inch screen. It grumbles as it messes with a little black box beside it.
Pinkie stares at the static in wonder. ‘What is this?’ Her answer comes when the static morphs into an image of a birds-eye view of a buggy driving through a desert landscape. She watches as the buggy races around large boulders and cacti. Her smile grows as music begins to play on the television. “What is this thing?”
The Conductor looks at Pinkie’s childlike wonder. “It’s a TELEVISION!” It studies her bright blues eyes as they watch the images on the screen. “You like it?” Her nod is her only response. The Conductor nods as it wanders over towards a heavy blanket covering a large container. “Pony is perfect for them…” It lifts up the sheet and peers at the contents underneath its protection. “Pony?”
Pinkie fights to tear her gaze from the screen. “You know I have a name.” She giggles. “Pinkie Pie is my name, and parties are my game!” She points at herself with a cocky smile.
The Conductor stares at her. “PINKIE!” It huffs, which causes her to shiver ever so slightly. “I want to show you my favorite collection…”
“What is it?” Pinkie stands beside the Conductor, eyeing the dark grey blanket, clearly covering something square in shape. ‘Maybe a chest of some sort?’
The robot pulls the sheet revealing a metal cage.
Pinkie’s eyes dilate to the size of pin-needles. Her body stiffens, she sucks in a breath, causing her throat to tense up, making her squeaky voice sound only as a whimper... The skeletal remains of animals and a human lay in the pose of their final moments. The human lies against the bars, its arms stick out through the gaps in an apparent attempt of escaping. Its skull is missing its jaw bone. Its eye sockets stare at Pinkie, digging into her soul like daggers.
Pinkie starts to hyperventilate as she keeps staring into their dark abysses.
The Conductor stands behind her. Its eye turns a deep crimson. “Pony…”
Her tail twitches.
The Conductor’s posture stiffens. “Add… Collection…”
Her tail twitches even more. ‘Twitchy tail!’ She screams within her mind.
She quickly ducks, avoiding the Conductor’s arms as they crash into the television, killing the music. Sparks fly and glass shatters as the Conductor pulls his arms from the television newly acquired maw. Pinkie sidesteps from the robot as she makes her way to the gangway.
“PONY!” The Conductor’s torso turns around. “You can’t LEAVE!” It gives chase.
Pinkie bolts from the car and makes a mad dash to the dining car. She looks back and sees the Conductor ganging ground. “No, no, no!” She grabs the bikes and throws them to the floor in hopes of slowing the robot down. The Conductor easily crushes the bikes under its feet, tearing through them like a hot knife through butter.
Freaking out, Pinkie grabs the gangway’s door and slides it open. Before she can step through, the Conductor grabs her backpack. Pinkie falls back and feels herself sliding backward. Thinking fast, she slips her arms out of the backpack’s straps and scampers on all fours as she puts distance from herself and the crazed robot.
The Conductor glares at the backpack and throws it as it resumes its pursuit. “STOP! RUNNING!”
Pinkie gets up on her hooves and runs with all her might. “Wadsworth!” She yells as she comes up to the gangway door to the dining car. “Wadsworth!” She stumbles up to the Mr. Handy bot.
“Yes, Miss. Pinkie?” Wadsworth looks down at the frightened mare.
“The conductor’s crazy!” Pinkie screams as she huddles behind him. “He killed little animals…” Tears swarm her eyes. “He killed a human!”
The door to the dining car slams open with a violet crash as it jams itself within its wall-sleeves. The door groans as it fails to return back to its resting position. The Conductor stands under the gangway’s doorframe – the lights around its lens flicker a multitude of colors. It lets out a low growl as it nears them. “Give PONY to me!”
“Conductor!” Jerry grumbles as he steps up to his fellow employee. “You’re not supposed to talk to guests like that!!!” The robot grabs Jerry’s head with its right hand and braces its other on his shoulder and tears off his head. “Black oil-like substance oozes out as the Conductor drops Jerry’s body to the floor.
Pinkie stares in horror as she sees the lights within Jerry’s eyes go dark. Shivering, she looks up and sees the Conductor approaching. “Wadsworth, what do we do?!”
“I have a solution, Miss. Pinkie!” Wadsworth turns one of his arms around. A circular saw blade pops out from his clawed hand. “Time for some cutting action!” The Conductor growls as it goes to grab him. Thinking quickly, Wadsworth brings the blade down onto the Conductor's hand. The blade makes a horrid sound as it cuts through metal, gears, hydraulic fluid, and wires. “With a hiss and a loud ping, the Conductor's hand falls to the ground with a metallic thud.
The Conductor looks at its broken arm. Silently it grabs Wadsworth’s offending appendage and rips it off.
Wadsworth looks at his sparking joint. “Oh, dear…” He looks back at Pinkie. “I do believe we must run.”
She nods.
Wadsworth pops out a small cylinder from his body that erupts into a cloud of dense smoke. Pinkie coughs as it enters her lungs. She struggles to see through the smoke, but Wadsworth guides her to the front of the train. “Where are we going?!” She cries out.
“We must alert the operators of their malfunctioning conductor.” Wadsworth states matter of factly.
Pinkie gulps as they enter and exit through several cars. She looks back at the inraged robot. ‘Why did he kill those animals… Why did he kill that human?” She shivers at that thought. What horrible thing he or she must’ve gone through before passing on.
Getting to the engine, Wadsworth opens and holds its door open for Pinkie. Seeing the Conductor closing the distance between them, Wadsworth slams the door shut and overloads its circuit, forcing the locks to engage. Seeing the door holding its ground from the robot’s manic punches, Wadsworth lets out a sigh of relief. “I do believe I bought us some time, Miss Pinkie.” Hearing no response, he turns around. “Miss. Pinkie… Oh, oh, dear!”
Pinkie is frozen at the sight of the dead human operator lying over the control panel’s countertop. Its skull's screaming expressions haunts her. “What happened to them?” She asks as she fights back a sob… “Why is the Conductor trying to kill us!?”
Wadsworth looks at the dead operator. “I do not know…” He floats up to the robotic operator. “Sir, I must ask. Why is your conductor causing a ruckus?”
“A ruckus?!” Pinkie huffs. “I cause ruckuses! I’m a master of ruckussing! He’s trying to kill us!” She points at the door.
“Oh, sorry, Miss. Pinkie.” He looks back at the operator. “Why is your conductor trying to kill us?”
The operator keeps its eyes on the tracks.
Pinkie and Wadsworth wait several more seconds. But the robot does not answer.
“I do believe that this robot is broken?” Wadsworth grumbles as it looks at its manufacturer label on the back of its head. “Hallon Industries. Of course…”
Pinkie pulls on her mane as she tries to rid her mind of the dull thuds drumming from the door. “What are we going to do?!” The thuds stop. Her eyes go wide. “Why did he stop?”
Wadsworth looks around. “I do not know…!”
The Conductor jumps down onto the nose of the engine. Its feet break through the thin metal and jam themselves into the air condition system. Loud hissing fills the air as refrigerant pours out over the windshield in a misty cloud. The red crimson glow of the Conductor’s eye shines through the mist. Its hand breaks through the windshield and grabs the head of the robotic operator.
It pulls the operator through the windshield.
Along its journey, the operator’s body crashes into a multitude of buttons; even its arm snags the engine’s throttle lever pushing it forward. The RPM increases, causing the four diesel engines to roar out a soothing melody. The train wheels scream as they glide along the tracks. A dull thud echoes as the cars readjust to the new momentum thrust upon them.
“Miss. Pinkie?”
“Y-Yes?!” She looks at Wadsworth.
“Get ready to run when I say so.” He unlocks the door. Pinkie looks at the green light on the keypad and quickly turns her gaze to the Conductor worming its way through the windshield. The Conductor pushes with all its might but is halted from its stuck feet. With a growl, it struggles to break its feet loose. “Now, Miss. Pinkie!”
Pinkie slides the door open and rushes into the other car. Wadsworth follows after her while keeping one eye on the Conductor. In one swift motion, he relocks the door and fries the locking mechanism, trapping the crazed robot inside.
Wadsworth looks through the small window looking into the engine’s cockpit and sees in the Conductor is still stuck, but in the distance, he sees another train station coming into view. “Oh my…” He floats over to a window on his left and opens it.
“What’s wrong?” Pinkie asks.
Sticking out one of his eyes, he sees several trains parked at the station, including one that is in their line of travel. “Oh, that’s not good…” Pinkie stares at him with her bright blue eyes. He sees that they’re full of fear. “Miss. Pinkie, could you help me with something?”
“Yeah!” She stands beside Wadsworth. “What do you need?”
“We need to activate the emergency breaks and disconnect the engine from the cars.” He points at a red handle high above them. “Pull that when I tell you to.”
Pinkie nods as she climbs onto the seat and stands on her tippy-hooves. “I’m ready!”
Wadsworth hums as he opens a small control panel in the corner near the floor. Moving some wires around he cuts a few and sticks some of them together. Little arcs of electricity dance across the wires before a dull clunk sounds off. The Janney couplers release from one another, allowing the engine to roar on ahead.
“Now, Miss. Pinkie!”
Pinkie pulls the cord – every single break on the train engage. The sudden shift in momentum sends her into the wall. She lets out a little groan as she bounces off. Before she smacks face-first into the metal floor, Wadsworth catches her in his arms.
“You alright?” He asks.
“Yeah…” Pinkie moans. “Just smacked my head against the wall.” She rubs her head. She looks out the window directly in front of her and sees the landscape coming to a stop. “We did it…”
Wadsworth looks out the window as well. “Yes, we did…”
!BOOM!
A distant flash flickers in their eyes. Looking through the gangway’s door’s small window, they see a towering inferno in the distance.
“Was that the…”
“The engine, yes.” Wadsworth opens the gangway door. They both look at the raging fire consuming the train station. “We would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for our quick thinking Miss. Pinkie.”
Pinkie stares at the fire. “Yeah…” Pinkie looks down at her hooves. A part of her feels terrible for the Conductor. He seemed to be kind. But he just turned violent… No, those skeletons of that human and those animals say otherwise. He killed before. She takes a deep breath and wanders back to the dining car.
“Where are you going, Miss. Pinkie?” Wadsworth asks.
“Getting my backpack…”
“Stupid dish!” John grumbles as he screws down a newly soldered chip he had worked on last night. Pulling the screwdriver away, he rests his arms on his knees as he looks over the dish’s motherboard and all its chaotic glory.
“Sir, you need help?” A ball shaped droid with a large glowing blue eye asks as it hovers over his shoulder.
“No Beta-012, I’m fine.” John lets out a sigh as he gazes at the vast blue ocean of San Fransico bay from the top of Alcatraz's lighthouse. Scratching his chin through his beard, he lets out a huff and finishes his task. “I think that will do it?” He shuts the door to the dish’s control panel. “Let's give it a test.”
Beta-012’s four spinning gravity manipulators shimmer as it flys over to the control panel. “Ready when you are.” A thin robotic arm extends from its base and rests over a large red button.
John looks out over the bay once more before turning his attention to the dish. “Let her rip!”
!BOOM!
Both John and Beta-012 look towards Horseshoe bay over by the Marin Headlands. They try to see anything that would’ve made that sound. Soon they have their answer. A tall pillar of black smoke rises over the horizon.
“That seems to be coming from Sausalito.” Beta-012 looks at John.
John’s brown eyes stare at the billowing smoke. Walking into the lighthouse, he makes his way to the office. Standing over a plastic tote, he rummages through it and pulls out a small metal briefcase. Stepping onto the lighthouse’s balcony, he sets it down and opens it. Within is a small drone two feet wide and four feet long. Unfolding its wings, he sets it down and turns on the screen of its controller.
“Using the drone, sir?” Delta-012 studies it. “What do you think it is?”
John lets out a sigh. “It could be Citadel activity, rival survivor groups fighting for control… or rouge robots mucking about.” He turns on the drone. It hums to life. It's four propellers spin at high velocity as they create lift. Hitting the throttle, it takes to the skies. “Let’s see what it could be.”
Jerry's corpse lies on the floor of the dining car. Pinkie’s eyes softly tremble as she stares at his hollow unlit eyes. She tightens her grip on her backpack’s straps. Even though she barely met him, she still feels sorrow for the loss of his life.
“Miss. Pinkie?” She looks over her shoulder and sees Wadsworth hovering outside the dining car. “We should get a move on.” He looks around. “Things seem to not feel right.” One of his eyes stares at the raging inferno engulfing the distant train station. “The authorities should’ve been here by now…” He lets out a static-filled sigh. “We should get to the city as soon as we can.”
Pinkie looks back at the dead robot. She rubs her head; another headache racks her brain. She thinks about the past several hours. The abandoned cabin, Wadsworth slowly dying down in its basement, the empty train station… the crazed conductor… She lets out a sigh. “I hope someone can help us?” She steps down onto the gravel surrounding the train tracks. “How much further do we have?”
Wadsworth looks south. “I believe another hour or less.”
Pinkie glares at the horizon. Through the heavy marine layer, she sees skyscrapers’ fuzzy silhouettes against the bluish sky. Taking a deep breath, she makes her way up the dry grassy hill to the paved road. “Let's get to it!” She smiles. “I know that things will get better when we get to San Francisco!” She yells the name out loud. A spur of happiness washes over her. Deep down, she wants the city to excite her, but a cynical, nagging feeling keeps creeping into her mind.
A drone looks down upon Pinkie and Wadsworth. Its camera focuses on the duo as they walk along the paved road leading to the Golden Gate Bridge.
John keeps his gaze on the controller's screen. His mind wants to reject what he sees, but the more he tries to explain it away, the more reality comes a-knocking. He cycles through all the camera modes of his drone – hoping that it’s just image artifacts on the lens, but alas, the bipedal pony is displayed on the screen.
His droid companion is having the most challenging time dealing with the image on the controller’s screen. “Impossible!” Beta-012 grumbles. “Impossible!” It hovers around John’s head. “Alien life of that nature shouldn't exist!” Its gravitational manipulators' pulses from its stress. “Logic dictates that her if it is a ‘her’… EER!!! Her hooves should not be able to keep her upright like that!”
John ignores the droid’s internal crisis. He focuses the image on the bipedal pony strolling down the road beside a Mr. Handy bot. Her curvy hourglass frame and her stride say she’s delicate, a lightweight, with long legs to support that frame... ‘Beta-012 is right…’ Her legs were peculiar. They’re built just like human legs, but her hooves were large to accompany her upright posture – larger than any hooved animal on Earth.
Who is he kidding; clearly, she’s an alien and one that’s walking and talking with a Mr. handy bot. How she’s talking with it, he doesn't know. The odds of her language matching its programmed language, most likely being English is bonkers.
“And it’s talking with a Mr. Handy!” Beta-012 grumbles. “I bet that bucket of bolts doesn’t even understand her!”
“I think you’re just shocked that you’re seeing an alien… In the flesh.” John smirks.
Beta-012 glares at John – its glowing eye flickering. “I do not doubt the chance for alien life to exist. Frankly, the math supports it, but she! Her anatomy! She shouldn’t exist!” Its body vibrates.
“And yet here she is before our very eyes…” John moves the drone to get a better angle on her face. From what he can see, her eyes are bright blue, full of expression, and large… Twice the size of his. Zooming in the image, he tries to read her facial expression, but can’t see due to the slight haziness from the heat radiating off the asphalt she's walking on. Her posture, however, is easier to read. From what he can tell, she looks tired, yet excited.
He looks up from the controls and stares at the Golden Gate Bridge. Feeling the salty wind striking his face, he lets out a long sigh and maneuvers the drone to see where they are heading.
“Pink! Her fur is PINK!” Beta-012’s speed increases as it hovers in circles behind John. “Pink! Pink! Pink! PINK!!!....” The bright blue glow in its eye fades. Its gravity manipulators stop spinning as it crashes onto the balcony floor.
John looks over his shoulders and sees the powered off droid. “Really?” He lets out a chuckle. “You bluescreened yourself.” A low hum comes from within Beta-012 as a spinning ring of white light fades in and out around its eye’s outer edge. “At least your reboot kicked in automatically.” He puts the drone in monitor mode. “You’re a pain to reboot manually!” He picks up Beta-012 and heads down the lighthouse's spiral staircase to the concrete courtyard just outside Alcatraz’s main cell block.
Wandering into the prison's central lobby, he walks up the spiral staircase to his right all the way to the third floor. Getting to the floor, he walks down the hall and steps into a room that was once the warden’s office. Setting down Beta-012 on a table in the right-hand corner, he sits at a desk facing the window overlooking the Oakland side of the bay.
Staring at his twenty-inch wide monitor, John messes with the mouse, causing the screen to come to life. An array of desktop icons lay before him. Mindlessly humming to himself, he opens one of the icons. A desktop window opens up, showing an image of what his webcam sees. He stares right back at himself. His brown eyes glare at him, judging his existence – tired and worn. “I don’t look a day over thirty…” It didn’t help that his beard is adding a few extra years. “More like thirty-three…”
He sighs as he rests his head in his left hand and hovers the mouse icon over the record button beside the image screen. He stares at it for a while, contemplating what he wants to do…
CLICK!
“March 12th, 2065… Operations Director for Alcatraz outpost…” He stares at his eyes as they glare back at him with incredible dullness. “The only member of the group as of now.” He opens a folder and skims through the many files within until finding what he needs. “Dropping data logs from last week. Hope the council finds it interesting…” He puts his microphone on mute. “If they ever respond.” He looks over at his drone’s controller and stares at its display screen. He sees the pony and the Mr. Handy bot making their way towards the Golden Gate Bridge.
Beta-012 lets off a soft ping as its reboot finishes.
John smiles as he sees the pony clearly in a giddy filled conversation with the Mr. Handy bot.
Beta-012 rises from the table beside John. Its eye flickers on and off before it looks over at him. “Did you turn me off?!”
John looks over at his computer screen. “No, you blue screened yourself.” He sees that his recording is off. “You were up n’ arms over her fur color.” He points at the drone’s controller.
Beta-012 stares at the controller and sees the pony skipping around the Mr. Handy bot. “You know I have no arms.”
“And now you’re being snarky.” He looks back at his computer screen and stares at himself in the small rectangular box.
“Are you going to tell the council about our alien discovery?” Beta-012 asks as it sticks a USB drive into the drone’s controller.
John looks at the controller watching the recording data transferring to the USB-drive. “No, not yet.”
“No?” Beta-012 stares at its master. “Why not?”
“You of all droids would be one to want more data, no?” John asks as he sends his recording to the council before shutting off his computer.
Beta-012 looks around, contemplating his words. “Yes, that is true… but…”
“But nothing!” John picks up the drone’s controller. “Council’s busy enough as is, and why not take the time to study our little pony friend. The more we know, the better.” He heads out of the cell-block and walks down the worn asphalt road winding down the island’s slopes to the docks below.
“Your logic is sound, but…” Beta-012 sighs. “Never mind, you’ll do what you want anyway.” He floats beside him. “May I ask, why are we heading to the dock?” It groans as it gets in front of John, stopping him in his tracks. “Please don’t tell me you plan on making contact with her?”
John looks at the floating, overly intelligent ‘light bulb’ with a flat scowl. “From the direction, they are walking, they are heading towards the Golden Gate Bridge…” He looks towards the towering bridge in the distance. “If they start wandering into the city…” John goes silent as he stares at the two figures on the screen. He notices that they’re only two-hundred yards or so from the bridge.
“Are you sure you want to alert her of our presence?”
John bites his cheek. “It’s better than watching her die from the corrupted wandering the city.” He looks at the skyscrapers through the dense fog that’s rolling through the streets. “Let's just stay on the boat just in case…”
Pinkie stands before the Golden Gate Bridge.
She shivers as she takes in all its splendor and glory.
Several cars and trucks of varying shapes and sizes dotting the road lay in a spectrum of decay. Pinkie’s lips go flat. Again, she notices the striking similarities with the putter wagons back home. Granted, the cars and trucks are more elegant and modern in their design than the putter wagons’ more 1920’s styling. “Strange…” Her mind begins to wander. “Why are they parked on the bridge?” She steps up to one close to her and peers through the broken passenger window. Blankets, rotting cardboard boxes, and an assortment of garbage lay within, generating a musty smell.
She groans as she steps back from the offending oder.
“Ah, good old Golden Gate Bridge!”
Pinkie looks over her shoulder at Wadsworth, who is clearly ignoring the distressing scene of cars and trucks calling the bridge home. She watches him study the mighty bridge with dreamy eyes. “Golden?” She takes her mind off the cars and stares at the bridge. “It looks redder than golden?” She bites her lower lips. “Why not call it the Redden Gate… Oh, I get it, it’s not epic enough…”
“It is called the Golden Gate because of the strait it crosses.” Wadsworth hums. “As for its color, that was the architect, Irving Morrow’s doing. It’s an ‘Art Deco’ design, and Morrow liked the red-orange color coating painted onto steel to prevent it from rusting.” He takes a picture of the bridge’s north tower. “It's one of California’s historical landmarks.” He hands her the photo.
Pinkie stares at the extreme perspective of the tower in the photo. ‘It sure is…’ She’s never seen such a massive bridge in her whole life. She smiles as she puts the picture away. Putting her backpack back on, she looks at the end of the bridge and sees the city in the distance. “Looks like we should get going…” She looks at the decaying cars. “And fast…” She frowns slightly, her mane drooping a bit. “Looks like something terrible happen here?”
“Oh, yes…” Wadsworth looks around. “I noticed the vehicles haphazardly parked on the bridge…” He floats alongside Pinkie. “Whatever it is, I'm sure the mayor has it under control.”
“Looks like they’re heading into the city.” Beta-012 states matter-of-factly.
John frowns. “So, it seems...” He turns the drone around to face the city proper. He turns on the ‘IR’ mode and flies to the other side of the bridge. Hovering in place, he slowly pans the camera, searching for anything hiding among the concrete forest.
A spec of white flickers across the screen. Then another. And another.
Seven dots wander near part of the highway that connects to the bridge.
“Shit!” John looks towards the coastline of the city. “We have to warn her!”
“Sir may I say, that bridge is two-hundred and twenty feet high. And I highly doubt that she will see you.” Beta-012 hums. “Or hear you.”
John looks at the Golden Gate Bridge. He huffs as he steps over to a cabinet beside the boat’s steering wheel. He pulls out a lever-action shotgun and checks to see if it's loaded. Seeing a shell in the chamber, he nods and places it in his lap as he sits back down in the driver’s seat. “I get that Beta, but I have to get her attention!”
“Have any ideas?”
“I have one…”
Pinkie eyes the cars and trucks as she walks past them. Her mood is calm, given the bizarre circumstances she finds herself in. It's tranquil on the bridge. The salty winds coming from the ocean sends shivers of delight throughout her body. Though, she would’ve expected the city to be echoing its distant sounds. At least giving off some sort of sign that life dwells within.
But only the soft howling of the winds fills her ears.
She lets out a sigh and wanders closer to the railing hugging the pedestrian path and looks out towards San Francisco Bay proper. She eyes the dense pockets of buildings dotting the bay’s coastline like groves of trees and their towering skyscrapers that kiss the sky. As well as the harbors acting as the bay’s lifeblood of its once-flourishing maritime industry.
Her eyes are drawn to a small little island. She sees the lonely lighthouse and large concrete warehouse looking building, taking up residence on the island. Before Pinkie can ponder why they would construct a building like that on an island that size, she sees a boat appear out from behind the island. From its trajectory, she notices that it's heading towards her. “Wadsworth?”
“Yes, Miss. Pinkie?” He floats up to her. “Oh, I see a boat.”
“So, I’m not seeing things.” Pinkie smiles as she waves towards the distant vessel.
“Looks like she spotted us?” Beta-012 states with a dull hum. “It looks like I was wrong. She must have good eyes sight, given that her eyes are twice the size of yours.” He looks at the drone’s screen. He zooms in on the image focusing on Pinkie’s bright blue eyes. “I highly doubt she speaks our language.” He hovers to John’s left. “What do you want to do?”
John bites down on his tongue. “I thought about that, but she’s talking with the Mr. Handy bot.” John turns the boat to face the bridge. “I know you’re going to say improbable, but it seems that her language is similar or has enough similarities to English to hold some conversation.”
Bete-012 twitches. “I guess you’re right, but the odds of that are one in a billion, sir.”
“Looks like the odds might be in our favor…” In the distance, he can see the silhouette of the bipedal pony coming into focus. He points towards the coastline near the base of the bridge as he picks up a microphone. “Meet me over there!” His voice blares out over the bay through the boat’s loudspeaker. He pulls the microphone away from his mouth and lets out a held breath. “Please understand me…”
Pinkie’s ears twitch as they pick up a voice. From the tone, it sounds masculine. “I think he’s trying to say something?” She looks to her right. “Did you hear what he said?”
Wadsworth shakes his eyes. “No, but I can see his body language, he seems to be pointing towards the coastline?”
Pinkie turns her gaze to the coastline on her right. “Where do we meet him?”
“The best place to meet him would be at Pier 43 Ferry Arch near Fisherman’s Warf.” Wadsworth hums. “They have a wonderful selection of restaurants and attractions there. A great place to unwind.”
Pinkie smirks. “Well, let’s not leave him waiting!” She takes off toward the end of the bridge with Wadsworth following her lead.
“No! No! No!” John quickly turns the boat around. “Don’t go too far into the city!”
Beta-012 looks at the drone and his master. “Sir, may I ask. What did you see?”
John pushes on the boat’s throttle, causing it to start skipping across the water. “I saw what looks to be a group of corrupted!” He grips his shotgun tighter. “If they get their hands on her, she’s dead!”
“I understand.” Beta-012 looks at the drone’s screen and manipulates the controls through its Bluetooth connection. It flies the drone over to where John saw the group of corrupted last and flips on the camera’s IR mode. Seven dots come into focus. Zooming in on one, he makes out an assault droid limping towards the Golden Gate. “John, not to add more onto an already interesting day, but there is an assault droid among your presumed group of corrupted.”
John stomps his foot against the floor of the boat. “SHIT!”
Pinkie and Wadsworth make their way off the bridge and start walking the gentle incline that leads to a conglomerate of toll booths several yards away.
From her vantage point on the road, she sees a green landscape that stretches for miles. Trees of all shapes and sizes blanket the hilly terrain, with buildings sprinkled throughout, creating a cozy little grove in contrast to the concrete jungle of San Francisco towering over this pocket of nature.
Pinkie shivers as she nears the toll booths. Seeing an off-and-on-ramp on her side of the road, she grabs one of Wadsworth’s hands and leads him to unfamiliar places.
“Miss. Pinkie, we should follow the 101 into the city!” Wadsworth hums.
“I get that, but let's take the scenic route!” Pinkie giggles as she turns around. “Besides, if the boat sees us along the coast…”
“Miss. Pinkie!”
“Then they might park closer to… Oof!” Pinkie bumps up against something hard and metallic. Shivering, she slowly turns around and comes face to face with a strange-looking robot. Its body is round like Wadsworth’s, but it has an eye directly in its center. Two arms sick out just above its body’s diameter. Two long bulky legs jut out from its smooth triangle shaped base. Its eye rotates down to look at her. “Uh… Hi?” Pinkie giggles nervously.
“Unknown species!” It grumbles with a static-filled voice. “The motherboard will be pleased!” It goes to grab her.
Pinkie backs away and clings to Wadsworth, who takes a defensive stance.
The robot notices and raises its weapon. “Summit to the motherboard!” Six strange looking creatures appear from their hiding spots and gather behind the robot.
Pinkie stares at these new beings. From their features, she can tell they are human, but looking vaguely human is where it ends. One of these ‘humans’ eyes seems to have been replaced with long optics that jut out a good three inches. Its body is covered in metallic protrusions that look like bismuth crystals. The others look like the first, but their states of metallic growth varies greatly from one another. “Wadsworth, what do we do?”
“I’m thinking of a solution, but I can’t come up with one that doesn’t get one of us killed,” Wadsworth grumbles. “I don’t remember the citizens of San Francisco to be so rude?”
“You and your droid must surrender to the motherboard.” The robot grumbles. “it is the way…”
“Like that’s going to happen bolts for brains!” A voice shouts.
Pinkie looks to her left and sees a small ball-shaped robot floating beside a light-skinned human male, with brown colored hair and beard standing a few feet away. She bites her lip as she recognizes the shotgun in his hands. It is similar looking to her father’s shotgun back home.
The robot looks over at the human and stares down the barrel of his lever-action shotgun. “Oh… It's you again… The John!”
Pinkie looks at both the robot and the human, whose apparent name is John, with a bewildered look. Wadsworth, on the other hand, looks at the scene with growing interest. “Oh, this will be good.”
Ignoring the Mr. Handy bot’s comment, John keeps his shotgun trained on the Assault Droid and mulls over its words. Seeing an emblem on its right shoulder plate, of a star with ten sides, he chews his lips. “B9… Thought it was you; it's hard to tell you assault droids apart sometimes.”
B9 grumbles as it turns to face John. “I am the Motherboard’s favorite!” It places a hand on its chest. “I’m the protector of her words.”
John turns his attention over to the humans. “And I see you have a few corrupted following you?”
B9 points to its followers. “They are no longer corrupted; they follow the motherboard's wisdom!”
“Sure, they do…” John grumbles to himself.
Feeling the tension rise between John and the assault droid, Pinkie steps forward. “Um… It seems like you two know each other, maybe we can work this out like friend’s ought to do?” Pinkie holds in a breath when one of the corrupted steps up closer to her, its static-filled growls sending shivers down her spine.
John steps up closer and scowls his face. The assault droid backs up and raises its weapon slightly, the other corrupted take defensive stances. John takes a quick glance at Pinkie and sees her trembling like a leaf as she holds onto Wadsworth for dear life. He looks back at the assault droid. ‘Let's work this out like friends ought to.’ He looks back at Pinkie. Either she is naive or has an overly optimistic outlook on everything… Or at least she tries to.
“Sir, if I may.” Beta-012 states as it leans in closer to John while keeping its gaze on Pinkie and Wadsworth. “I think we should try to barter with this droid, like last time.”
The assault droid, hearing those words, lowers its weapon.
John looks at his droid. “Beta, I just can’t keep giving stuff to him!”
“I understand, but you do have a knack for finding things.” Beta-012 turns its attention back to Pinkie and Wadsworth. “And besides, you did come out all this way to save them.”
John looks at Pinkie and Beta and the assault droid. “You’re right…” He stares at the assault droid. “Let's make a deal, you let the lady and her droid go, and I’ll let you pick from some gear I have on the boat?”
B9 droid holsters its weapon. It goes stiff for a brief moment before answering. “You have stuff that will meet the value equal to them?”
Pinkie glares at the robot labeling her and Wadsworth like products.
John lets a smirk fly at her facial expression. “You know me, do I ever disappoint?”
B9’s eye looks to the ground. “We’ve traded four times…” It seems to go through a calculation. “I give the fifth trade a sixty-five percent favorable outcome.”
John frowns slightly. “Well, let’s get to it.” He looks at Pinkie and nods his head.
Pinkie slowly nods and follows after. Wadsworth floats behind her. Two of his eyes look behind him, glaring at the corrupted as they slowly meander behind them, keeping their distance, but being close enough to strike when need be.
Stepping through the grove of trees, Pinkie finds herself in a small courtyard surrounded by four small buildings built with the 19th century colonial Spanish architectural flare. Tearing her eyes from the buildings, she sees a boat parked along a single dock jutting out from the rocky coastline. The boat itself has two decks, and its design is curvy, yet rustic if those two things could ever mesh with one another.
John looks back at Pinkie, studying her curious gaze she gives his boat. A small smirk adores his lips as he sees her eyes light as she looks upon the array of monitoring systems moving about above the boat’s helm. John turns his gaze from the enamored pony to her traveling, Mr. Handy bot. He’s amazed that it’s still humming along, given its slight disheveled appearance. For him, it’s been ten years since he’s seen a working Mr. Handy bot.
B9 looks at the boat and lets out a hum. “I know the John has a good selection for the motherboard.”
John lets out a sigh. “Yes, you know I do…” He rubs his brow. It still baffled him that the droid still lives, but who is he too question an assault droid’s capabilities, even though they were a flawed design from the start… sort of.
Pinkie looks at the human and robot with a raised brow. “They seem to have an interesting relationship?” She whispers to Wadsworth.
“Oh, yes, very much so,” Wadsworth whispers a laugh.
John can still hear their conversation and can only shake his head. “You should see him on a good day.”
Pinkie blushes at the human. “On a good day?” She looks at the lumbering assault droid. “He’s not having a good day?”
John shrugs his shoulders. “Uh, I think he’s having more of a meh day.” He looks at the droid’s docile corrupted companions. “As for them, I’m not sure, never can tell what they’re thinking.”
Pinkie looks back at the cyborgs limping behind them. She stares at their mangled faces. “What happened to them?”
John raised his right brow. He didn’t know if she saw other humans before him, but it seems like she has from her question. And her tone. He believes that she only has seen human remains that scatter the Californian landscape. “Long story.” He looks back at her. “We’ll talk more once we get through our little ordeal.” He nods his head at B9.
Pinkie looks between the two and slowly nods her head.
Beta-012 just hovers over the group, silently watching Pinkie, studying her every move.
Feeling like someone is watching her, Pinkie looks up at the floating droid and glares at his single optic. She gives the droid a frown. Unlike the other robots she has seen, this one shows no outward emotion. It’s something that unnerves her. What does it think of her? What are its intentions?
Beta-012’s only reaction to her questioning glare is a simple blink of its eye as it soars over to the boat and waits for the group.
Stepping on the boat, John turns around and offers a hand to Pinkie. Pinkie looks at his hand and gently accepts his offer. She’s taken back by its rough yet oily texture. John expected the fur on her hand to be a little coarse like his beard, but on the contrary, they’re soft, silky, like a very overly conditioned cat. Swallowing his shock, he pulls her onto the boat and offers a seat near the stern.
“HEY!” B9 grumbles. “You can’t take her yet!” It raises its rifle. B9’s corrupted begin to take aggressive stances.
“Woah, Woah!” John frowns. “You’re going to get a chance to get what you want, but she and her Mr. Handy come on board first!” Wadsworth doesn't wait as he floats onto the boat and hovers beside Pinkie.
B9 stays salient as its body sputters and twitches. “No funny business!” It grumbles.
“I promise!” John huffs. “And besides, as you said, I have good selections for the motherboard.”
B9 lowers its weapon. “I do recall that statement… The John is correct.” It's corrupted settle down and stand in a sort of trance.
“Now…” John comments as he drags out a five-gallon tote from the lower deck. “Here’s what I have.”
B9 opens the tote’s lid and peers inside.
Pinkie sits up from her seat and watches the robot, studying its subtle movements. ‘I hope it likes what he has?’ She tells herself as she bites her right hand's knuckles.
B9 holds up a glowing orb and studies its blue glow with a hint of fascination. John bites down on his right hand’s index finger as the droid fidgets with it. “What is this?”
John lets out a long sigh. “A fusion grenade.” He grimaces as the droid opens a hatch on its body. ‘That was my favorite find…’ He grumbles and closes the tote. “I… I take it that you’re satisfied?”
“The John pleases the motherboard once again.” B9 walks away from the boat with its corrupted not far behind.
John huffs as he picks up the tote. “Bye then…” He quickly places the tote in the corner and sits down in the driver seat.
Pinkie slowly walks up to John but stops when she feels the boat hum to life. Seeing they’re pulling away from the dock, Pinkie grabs onto the railing until she stands behind John. “Um, thank you for saving us.”
John looks over his shoulder and gives her a nod. “No problem.” He turns the steering wheel, pointing the boat at Alcatraz island. “I’m just glad it turned out the way it did.”
Pinkie nods. “Yeah… those humans… um corrupted, they seemed really scary!”
“Scary…” John smirks. ‘That’s an understatement.’ He pushes on the throttle. “That’s one way to look at it.” He turns the seat around. “Well, now, that ordeal is over, let’s not keep this time between us awkward.” He holds out his hand. “My name is John, if you didn’t know already from earlier.”
Pinkie blushes with a smile and takes his hand. “My name is Pinkie Pie, and this is my friend Wadsworth.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir!” Wadsworth hums.
John smiles. “This is Beta-012.” He points at his droid.
Pinkie waves at the droid. Beta-012 hovers closer to her and gets right in her face. Pinkie blushes as she stares through the glass protecting the sensors and optics of its eye. “What are you?” It asks.
“Um…” Pinkie places her hands in her coat’s pockets. “I’m an earth pony.” She can see the glow in Beta-012’s eye flicker.
“Earth pony?” John questions as he leans back in his chair. “Its obvious you're not from around here, so, where are you from?”
“I’m from Equestria, that’s the name of my country…” She catches a glimpse of the Golden Gate from the corner of her eye. She looks at it in all its glory. “Wadsworth is trying to help me find where it is. I’ve never heard of California or the United States, but I think it may not be that far…” Seeing the look John gives makes her feel a little queasy. “What’s wrong?”
John looks at the mare and lets out a long sigh. “Miss, I think you’re a lot farther from home than you think…”
John and Beta-012 watch Pinkie skim over a globe of the Earth. The ball bearings squeak as she spins the globe. Her large blue eyes stare frantically at the landmasses drawn on its hardened cardboard shell.
“I believe you may have been too blunt.” Beta-012 comments as it watches her play with her tail.
“You told me too,” John mutters to the droid.
“Clearly, that wasn’t the best thing to do.” Beta-012 looks at John. “She seems to be very unstable.”
“Wouldn’t you if you found yourself in an alien world?”
Beta-012 goes silent for a few short seconds. “No.”
John places a hand over his face and lets out a drawn-out sigh. “Of course,” He watches Wadsworth comfort her. “I think it is for the best we were blunt.” He grabs the droid and holds it close to his side. “Leading her on a fib would’ve not helped matters.”
“How is this helping matters?” Beta-012 points his optics towards Pinkie, who is biting her nails.
John sighs as he lets go of the droid. “What she described sounds like a wormhole. If she knows where she is, then maybe we can focus on the how and maybe make some new discoveries along the way.” He jabs his elbow against Beta-012. “Knowing you, you’d like that.”
Beta-012 grumbles. “Fine… But I suggest you console her before she has a mental breakdown.”
Seeing Pinkie staring at the North American landmass with tearful eyes, John places his hands in his pockets and wanders up to the mare and her Mr. Handy bot. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I can’t find it…” Pinkie runs her fingers against the globe’s bumpy texture. “I can’t find my home…” She stares at the state of California. “I can’t find Equestria…”
John stares at her three fingers. He takes out his right hand from his pant’s pocket and wiggles his four fingers, imagining what it would be like with only three. “I… I’m sorry.” It was strange to have felt her fingers back on the boat – furry fingers… strange. “Whatever brought you here sent you across the galaxy.” He sits opposite her, the globe covering part of his face.
Pinkie stares at the black dot representing San Francisco’s position in the world. “I guess, um, you could say I’m a space traveler…” She gives a small smile. “I’m the first of my kind to travel through space.” She lets out a laugh. “Without a ship.”
John smiles. “That’s one way to look at it.” He leans back and studies her some more. “Your mood seems to have improved rather quickly?”
Pinkie runs her fingers through her mane. “No sense in moping.” She sits down in her chair. “Mother taught my sisters and I not to let our worries get the best of us.”
John crosses his arms. “I know we didn’t speak much on the boat after I metaphorically dropped a brick on your head.”
“It was a dozy of a brick, my good sir.” Wadsworth hums a ditty.
Pinkie blushes. “Yeah… It was a shocker…”
John gives her a sheepish smirk. “But I’m sure you have a lot of questions about myself and my kind, and vice versa.”
“I have a lot of questions!” Beta-012 floats up to Pinkie and glares down at her.
“Let’s not overwhelm her now.” John glares back at the droid.
“It’s okay…” Pinkie holds up her hands. “It’s just curious about me…” The temperature around her cheeks increases. “Like I am about you?”
John feels his cheeks get hot and looks down at his feet, eyeing the sowed patterns on his shoes. ‘Why am I blushing?’ He fights his embarrassment and turns his attention back to her.
“Glad to hear.” Beta-012’s body lets off an audible hum. “What are you?”
Pinkie stares at the floating ball-shaped droid. “I told you I’m an earth pony.”
Beta-012’s body twitches. “Is your species the only intelligent one?”
Pinkie crosses her arms and tilts her chair back, resting her hooves on the table. “Nope, there is a butt load of different ‘intelligent’ creatures.”
Beta-012’s body twitches again. “How many?”
“Well…” Pinkie smirks. “There are Earth ponies, Unicorns, Pegasi, and Bat Ponies. Then there are Dragons, Griffins, Kirin, and Minitours.” She scratches her chin. “I could be missing some. My friend Twilight would know more about that particular subject.” She gives the droid a smile.
Beta-012 stays silent. Its eye dims and brightens in rapid succession before acknowledging her reply. “I… What is your government like…” Beta-012 hears Pinkie’s stomach growl.
“You hungry?” John raises his brow, “Forgive me for not asking you earlier?”
“No, it’s alright…” Pinkie’s cheeks flush even more when her stomach grumbles again. “What do you have to eat?”
John gives her a smile, which causes her to blush some more. “Let’s see what I have.” He walks up to a fridge in the far corner of the spacious office. “What do you like?”
-Two Hours Later-
John sits at his desk, his eyes glaring at the computer screen before him. He mulls through the report he’s written, the wall of text beams back at him. The harsh blue light of the monitor strains his eyes. He rubs them and glares right back at the screen with rejuvenated dullness.
“Oh…”
Hearing Beta-012 moaning, he rubs his eyes again and looks over at the distraught droid. “You okay?”
Beta-012’s gravity manipulators spin slowly, its optic flickers. “No…” Its base of its gravity manipulators spark. “Logic dictates that what she told us makes no sense!” Its body kisses the ground before rising again and mindlessly floats around in a circle. “It’s all fantasy!”
John watches his droid companion sob its complaints. He had to admit, what Pinkie told them of her homeworld, of her life back in Equestria seemed all so strange. Her world’s technologies, culture, and social hopes and woes were very similar to 1920’s Earth with many European and American undertones. Still, the odds of an alien civilization having similar cultural tones were astronomical, to say the least.
He glosses at his computer’s screen and glares at the report he’s written. He stares at the paragraph about Pinkie’s friends and family. The way she described them had saddened him for the hurt she felt. Not being able to see or talk to them. To let them know that you’re alright…
“Magic!” Beta-012 growls. “Magic is an illusion!”
Hearing metal against concrete, John looks down as sees Beta-012 sorrowfully grinding along the floor, its processes lost in logic-defying agony. ‘Don’t you worry Miss. Pinkie. Logic droids are normally temperamental…’ John smirks as he remembers Wadsworth’s comment.
He looks out his window and sees the duo standing by Alcatraz staff's old apartments during its operation. He watches Pinkie sip her hot chocolate as those large blue eyes of hers stare at the buildings with childlike wonder. He smiles as he turns his gaze back to his report. “I have to say, Beta, things are finally going to liven up here for the foreseeable future.” Beta-012 moans, making John’s smile grow.
Pinkie smacks her lips as she pulls the cup away from her lips. The hot chocolate’s taste is different from the one she had back on the train. Its notes were darker. She even tastes a hint of spice. Her tongue feels tingly, kind of like what cayenne pepper would do.
Placing the cup close to her chest, she looks up at one of the three apartment complexes that call Alcatraz Island home. John had told her that this place was once a maximin security prison at one point in its history. Once informed of the place, Wadsworth made it his mission to tell her everything he knew. Give her the old fashion tour he told her.
Giving her drink another sip, she catches up with Wadsworth, who’s hovering up to a section of the prison overlooking the Oakland side of the bay. “Where are we going?” She asks as she walks alongside him.
“Heading to the part of the island that was once a military fort,” Wadsworth explains. “The national park recreated one of the sections of the island to look like it did back in the late eighteen-hundreds, with the cannons and all trinkets to sell the display.”
Pinkie gives the droid a smile. Clearly, he’s enjoying giving her the tour of the place. She looks up at the towering prison complex on her left, casting its shadow over the part of the island she walks. So much history packed onto a small mound of dirt. A military fort, then a military prison, to maximum security prison, then a national landmark, Twilight would go nuts…
The thought of her friend saddens her.
She wonders what her friends are up to. If they noticed that she’s gone. If they’re looking for her. She wonders what her family is going through. She knows her mother would be crazy worried about her. Her father would be working overtime to keep her mother’s mind at ease. Her sisters, well. Maud would still be Maud. Calm and collected. Limestone, she wouldn’t show it, but she would be worried, and her twin, Marble, well, she might be even shyer and quieter if she could believe it.
She mindlessly follows Wadsworth as her mind begins to wander some more.
What was it that brought her here? She thinks back to her first night when she arrived on Earth. She remembers a flash of light in the center of town. The day was calm. She finished having a conversation with Derpy before heading back to the bakery when… A strong gust of wind blew through the town. The air got cold. Her fur stood on end…
She groans as she rubs her head.
“Is everything alright Miss, Pinkie?”
She sees his three optics looking at her with a worried expression. “I’m fine, Wadsworth, just thinking of my friends and family.”
Wadsworth’s eyes bob a little. “I understand. I do miss the Mister and Misses. And the little ones.” He places a clawed hand on her shoulder. “But I know I’ll see them again.” He pats her on the head. “And get you home safe and sound.”
Pinkie smiles. “Thanks.” She looks at the old cannons pointing towards the Oakland coastline. “Very impressive… Did the island see any fighting?” She walks up to one of the batteries and runs her hands along its bumpy surface.
“No, the main battles of the civil war were too far from California’s shores.”
Hearing the words ‘civil war’, Pinkie’s ears go flat. “Civil War?”
“Yes, The United States went through a civil war. The reasons for the war were many, but the main two were over federal government versus state government, and slavery.” Wadsworth states as he continues up the hill
Pinkie frowns as she follows after him. ‘Sounds like the story of Hearts Warming…’ She tells herself.
“What was that?” Wadsworth asks.
Not realizing she spoke out loud, she scratches the back of her head. “Heart Warming, it’s a little similar to this civil war.”
“Really?”
“Yes, a long time ago before Celestia and Luna started their rule over Equestria. The different races of ponies were divided into large tribes. Some of the tribes were united under racial lines, while others were more political or cultural.” She places her hands in her jacket's pockets. “From what I studied in school and from the play I put on with my friends, Ponies back then fought regularly over land and food. And it wasn’t uncommon for some tribes to take slaves.”
“So, this Hearts Warming is a celebration of that?” Wadsworth looks at her with a bewildered look.
She rolls her eyes. “No, you silly! Hearts Warming celebrates the unifying of the pony tribes and creating the nation of Equestria!”
“Did all the tribes unite?” Wadsworth keeps one eye on her as he guides them towards the northern part of the island.
“No, but they’re a lot different from the tribes of the past. They go by different names now…” Pinkie laughs. “I'm starting to sound like Twilight!” She giggles.
“How so?”
“Because she’s a walking encyclopedia!”
Sparks fly past John’s face. The bright arching jets from the welder cast his shadow on the wall behind him as the plasma’s light illuminates his workshop. Stopping, he lifts his welding mask and looks around the east wing of the cellblock. He always admired this spot. Proud of the work he did, knocking out some of the cell walls to open up space.
Popping his bubblegum, John looks down at the contraption he’s working on and looks at his welding job. “Not too bad.” Turning off the welder, he jumps down and walks around the five-foot-long and ten-foot-wide machine. Eyeing its display panel, he flips several switches. A low hum reverberates off the walls.
“Looks like I finally got you working again.” He watches several base supports rise up from its base and lock into place, leveling out the machine. Two large crane-looking appendages pop out from its frame and extend forward in front of a large LCD-screen on the machine’s face.
John eyes his weld lines on its arms. “Looks like they’re holding…” He flips a couple more switches, “There we go…”
Two white square-shaped eyes flash on the LCD-screen. They blink several times before looking at John. “Hello user, I’m a Tanikawan Data Compiler, here to serve your needs in logistical data sorting. Also, making certain operational functions of your facility are up to code given out by the ‘North American Board of Robotic Algorithmics.’” Its states in a deep robotic drawl.
“I know that DC…” John places a stick of red licorice in his mouth. “Operation code Delta-19-F5DRC2365.”
The machine’s screen goes black for a few seconds and comes to life with the same square eyes. “Hello, John. It seems I may have been out for a while.”
“You have DC… Had to make some repairs.” He sits down and opens a small boxy laptop. “How are your systems?”
“Yes, now I recall…” DC's internals let off several high-pitched beeps and chunky thuds. “Yes, everything seems to be normal.”
“Still connected to the island’s monitoring systems?” John skims over DC’s data being recalled onto his laptop’s screen.
“Yes, but…” Its square eyes squint. “I’m picking two unidentified lifeforms on the northern side of the island?”
John smirks. “Oh, they’re our new guests.” He edits a few lines of code. “They’re names are Pinkie and Wadsworth.”
“I take it Wadsworth is a Mr. Handy Bot.” DC states as it eyes the two through the cameras on the island. John only nods. DC focuses on Pinkie. Its processors hiss as it scans and categorizes her. “Strange, her facial features do not match normal human facial structure.”
John smirks. “Yeah… Don’t be shocked.” He looks at DC’s LCD-screen. “She’s an alien from another world.”
DC lets off auditable beeps. “Why aren’t you in a state of shock?”
John stares off into space. It was strange… Why wasn’t he more shocked. “To be honest, I have no clue?”
DC stares at him for a few seconds. “You might be suffering a mental breakdown?”
John rolls his eyes. “Beta would be the one suffering a mental breakdown.”
DC’s eyes move from side to side. “I see Beta-012 is repeatedly bumping into a wall in a depressed manner.”
“Yeah…” John adds a few more lines of code. “He’ll be fine.” Closing the laptop, he walks up to DC’s control panel on his left side. Sticking in a USB drive, he stares at the screen as several windows pop up. “What are Pinkie and Wadsworth up to?”
DC looks side to side once again. “They are near the Model Industries Building.”
John looks out the large iron-barred windows to his left and bites his inner cheek. “Is ADAM online?”
DC looks over at John. “Yes.”
John sees that the data stream is finished. Taking out the USB-drive, he walks out of Cellblock C towards the exit on the prison's eastern wing. “I’ll be back!”
Pinkie eyes the dilapidated structure of the Model Industries Building. The clouded glass that still remains in some of its windows adds an eerie atmosphere to the place. Timidly she follows Wadsworth to the entrance. “It’s sad seeing these buildings is such decay.” She mumbles as she looks at the rusty, crumbling concrete walls.
“Yes, it is…” Wadsworth hovers over to a wide glassless window overlooking the mouth of the bay. “But it's beautiful nonetheless.”
Pinkie watches the water crash up onto the rocks. The scent of seawater sends a chill down her back. She always liked the ocean. Even though she grew up nowhere near the sea. She would always head to the beaches of Manehattan and Baltimare. Looking at the building once again, she smiles. “I guess you’re right…”
Hearing a noise, Pinkie looks around; the fur on the back of her neck stands erect. “Did you hear that?”
Wadsworth turns around and looks at the dimly lit space. The hanging rebar and chunks of concrete scattered across the floor are unsettling. The faint dripping of water echoing off the walls is not helping matters. “I did…”
Pinkie stares to her immediate left. She strains her eyes. Her body goes stiff as she sees the pale-yellow glow of a single optical eye through the darkness. The light moves closer with the sounds of hydraulic hissing until what it's attached to comes into view.
Pinkie shivers as she lays eyes on a very dilapidated droid. “No…” She moans with a whisper. She recognizes its make and model. It’s the same as the Conductor back on the train.
The droid tilts its head and moves closer to them.
In a panic, Pinkie runs out of the building. “John! HELP US!” She yells. Looking back, she sees the droid is still making its way to her, its single optic never leaving her sight. “Help! OOF!” She bumps up against something soft. Instinctively she grabs onto whatever she ran into and closes her eyes.
“Um, are you okay?”
Hearing John’s voice, Pinkie’s eyes shoot open, and her cheeks flush with red. Letting go, she jumps away from John and stares up at him with flustered eyes. “Uh…” She looks back at the droid. She’s unnerved by its motionless but yet stern gaze. “No… It’s the…”
John lays a hand on her shoulder. “He’s not the Conductor.” He smiles. “He may look like him because they are the same model of droid.” He gently turns her around. “ADAM here is an ‘All-Purpose Utility and Service Droid.’”
Pinkie stares at ADAM, watching the apertures and lenses of his optical unit twist and turn. “Is he friendly?”
John shrugs his shoulders. “Eh? Sort of?”
Pinkie swallows a lump in her throat and walks up to ADAM. “Um, hello. Sorry for running away from you like that.” She holds out a hand. “I know that’s not a nice thing to do…”
John watches her with a smirk and raised brow. ‘She wasn’t kidding that her kind is easy to forgive.’ His smile leaves every so slightly. 'To easy...'
ADAM looks at her hand and focuses on its three fingers. His body makes a groan as he turns his attention to the rest of her. “What are you?” He asks, his robotic voice raspy and harsh, sounding like a chain-smoker.
“I’m an earth pony,” Pinkie states, her nervousness leaving.
ADAM looks her over before glaring at John. “Are my optical systems failing?”
“No, they’re not.” John crosses his arms as he walks up to him. “But if you would just let me fix you, maybe you can be back to your normal self.”
Pinkie’s ears go flat. “He’s hurt?” Of course, he is, it's evident from his rusted limbs, worn wires, and hoses, and the crack on the bottom edge of his eye. “Why won’t he let you fix him?”
John shrugs his shoulders again. “He won’t tell me?” He looks over the frail-looking droid. “Very stubborn.”
ADAM stares at John before looking back at Pinkie. Giving them a low growl, he wanders back into the dark.
Pinkie stares at the area where he disappeared. ‘I think he needs a friend?’ She tilts her head.
“So,” John looks at Pinkie. “How’s your tour of the place going so far?”
Pinkie breaks her thoughts on ADAM and looks up at John. “Going great!” She smiles. “Wadsworth’s been a great tour guide!”
“Thank you, Miss. Pinkie!” Wadsworth hums as he floats up to them. “If you’re ready, let's do the interior of the prison!”
John watches Wadsworth float up to the door he came out of. “Sounds like fun. Can I join?” He looks at Pinkie.
Pinkie giggles at his question. “Of course.” She feels her cheeks get hot.
“And after, I’ll cook us dinner…” John places his hands in his pockets. “Well, try at least.” Pinkie giggles at his expression. He laughs a little with her. “I guess we can make dinner go by smoother if we watch a movie with it.”
Pinkie raises her brow. “You have a movie theater?”
John shrugs his shoulders. “Sort of?” He walks up to the prison.
Pinkie follows after. “Well, I guess it's possible to get a large screen in here.” She scratches her head. “But don’t tell me you have a band living here? I mean, you’ll need them every time you watched a movie?!”
John raises his brow. “Band? Your movies are silent?”
“Well, yeah! What else would they be?” She gives him a weird look.
He laughs, which makes her confused. “Oh, wait till you see what our movies are like!”