> Deep Faked
>  by SockPuppet
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Random Access Memories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"All righty," Button Mash said, gesturing through the door, "step into my office."

Lyra looked around. "This is a bathroom."

"The faculty bathroom, yeah." Button sat on a plywood plank over the commode and indicated a folding canvas chair that read WORLD SERIES 1984. 

Lyra looked at the chair.

"My dad is from San Diego," Button explained. 

She sat down, crossing her legs at the ankles and folding her hands in her lap. "I, uh, well..."

Button opened his laptop and put it in his lap. "Wallflower zorped all your memories of the last four years away?"

Lyra nodded. "It's horrible! I have pictures of me and Bon-Bon, but no recollection. We just... we spend time together, but we just stare at each other, not talking, confused. What can you do?"

Button tapped on his computer. "Yeah, I've got several hundred hours of you two."

Lyra leaned forward. "Explain."

"I hacked the school surveillance cameras years ago and downloaded each day's take every night."

"...why?"

"For the girl's locker room feed, mostly."

Lyra went pale, crossing her arms over her chest and squeezing her knees tighter together. "That's illegal."

"Tell Luna, she installed the camera, not me."

Lyra shook herself and made a mental note to never change clothes in the locker room again. "You have surveillance footage of me and Bon Bon?"

"In the hallways. In class. In the cafeteria." He grinned. "Under the bleachers."

Lyra frowned. "What were we doing under the bleachers?"

Button waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh!" Lyra dug her wallet from her purse. "The whole package."

"Five hundred bucks for... looks like three hundred forty-two hours of you two."

"Visa?"

"Can you do American Express?" Button said, plugging his credit card reader into the laptop. "I'm a small business so my AmEx fees are lower."





"Bad news," Button said.

"Oh?" replied Flash Sentry.

"I already agreed not to sell you your real data."

"What? Why?!"

"Turns out you and Microchips were dating, and Microchips's dad is a preacher and paid me to not let Microchips know he's gay."

"Paid you what?"

"Apparently, this last Sunday's whole collection from the church."

"I can top it."

"It's the rich people, tax dodging church."

Flash frowned. "Okay, what can you sell me?"

"Three hundred hours of you crying over Sunset's picture in a bathroom stall. Five hundred bucks."

"Fifty bucks, if it's just me being depressed."

"Seventy-five."

"Personal check?" Flash asked.

Button laughed as he plugged in the credit card reader. "What is this, nineteen fifty-three?"





"Are ya serious?" Apple Bloom asked.

Button turned the laptop around, showing her the surveillance feed. "You three starting a fire." He tapped next video. "You three starting a fire." Next video. "You three starting a fire." Next video. "You three angry that the fire didn't start." Next video. "You three starting a fire." 

Sweetie Belle ignored the fiery footage, instead staring at Button's fingers. "Wow, your computer has a touchscreen? It's like an iPad and a laptop had a baby."

"Some of those fires are pretty rad," Scootaloo said, puffing up in pride. "How much for the whole package?"

"Six hundred hours of fires, floods, and culinary abominations...?" He put the credit card reader away. "You three date me." 

"No deal," the CMCs said in harmony.

"You three let me tell people I'm dating you."

They eventually agreed on eight hundred dollars, with the additional rider that Button never speak to them or speak of them again.





"H-hello," Fluttershy said, looking at her hands, which were clenched in her lap.

"Wallflower memory zorp?" Button said.

She nodded.

Button tapped keys. "I have six hundred hours of you with your friends."

"H-have my friends been in here yet?"

"No, you're the first of the seven."

Fluttershy smiled and tucked a strand a hair behind her ear. "I want to look more assertive. If I remember being more assertive, and they remember me that way, maybe I can be more assertive... can you help? Maybe edit the footage you sell me and them so it's the 'Best of Fluttershy'?"

Button frowned, querying the SQL database populated by the AI he had tasked to watch and label all the footage. "There's not really anything like that, sadly."

"Could you... make some footage of me being assertive? A memory wipe is too good a chance to pass up. It's a chance to start over."

Button frowned. "Yeah... I have enough training data I could deepfake something about you asserting yourself."

Fluttershy looked up and grinned. "Make me being suspicious of Wallflower, and the others think I'm being paranoid and shout me down."





"Hey, dude," said the next customer.

Button looked at him. "I know you play bass for Flash Sentry's band, but I've never caught your name."

"There are some who call me... Ringo?"

Button tapped the computer. "Okay, I've got a few hundred hours of your life and times. Five hundred bucks."

"What girl do I date?"

One SQL query later: "None, they all seem to ignore you."

"Harsh, dude."

"The data is the data."

Ringo leaned forward and whispered. "I heard you can... make memories."

Button looked at the bassist. "That's not easy, and therefore not cheap. Amazon Web Services compute time costs buku money."

"Can you make some memories of me dating Rainbow Dash? And make sure she gets them, too?"

"Sorry, no, I've already sold her all her memories back."

Ringo deflated. "Applejack?"

"Too late. We could do Pinkie Pie, or Vinyl Scratch?"

"No, thanks. ...Rarity?"

Button drummed his fingers along the top edge of the laptop screen, knocking off the pink scrap of tape that covered the camera. He replaced the tape and said, "Sure. Rarity hasn't been by yet. I can slip in some deepfakes of you two dating. Five hundred for the real footage, another two hundred for the deepfakes."

"What do you mean by 'dating'?" Ringo asked.

"Holding hands. Jamming together in the music room. Sitting together during a basketball game."

"Could you deepfake us making out?"

"Sure, that's easy. In fact, if the lighting is bad, like if you're in a broom closet, the fake is easier to make."

There was a pause. Ringo swallowed and started to speak, then stopped himself.

"Say it," Button said with a grin. "I think you're about to buy me a new graphics card."

"Could you deepfake me and Rarity having sex?"

"I, in fact, could." Button leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. "For an extra thousand, I will make sure your deepfake isn't using a condom."