The Caretaker

REMEMBERNight Belles

        :::> I stood, crouched, outside their clubhouse, that of the ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders’. Their conversation, as much as it would pain an organic to admit, followed the usual trail of recalling past times, better times. Now, the three of them had gained their marks. Some would say that there was no point for the Cutie Mark Crusaders to exist anymore; I certainly said so; but despite logic, they continued with their get-togethers.

        :::> Currently in High School, they had all grown exactly as I expected they would. Organics, on the other hand, would say they had grown in a fast manner, almost beyond belief. Wrong. It is just another fault of the biological mind to make time go faster or slower than it actually does. So is flesh, as the Ubor say, another design flaw.

        :::> I looked at the grass, then back through the window of the treehouse. I could not help but observe, once again, the memoirs and other types of objects that served as remembrances of better times. Better times are false. All times are equal. Either way, their minds worked differently, longing the past, their adventures, their mishaps. It is... sad, that they could not retain their full innocence after the war. I am certainly a reminder of that.

        :::> I watched in complete silence; my glowing, blue eyes penetrating a hole through the clubhouse as Sweetie Belle stood up. Perhaps it would be a waste of short-term memory, but I decided to listen to what she was about to say.

        “Well, girls, I gotta go,” she uttered, stretching. “Rarity’s gonna be really mad at Mac if I’m late again, and you know he’s shy about telling me to go, so...”

        :::> …

        :::> … I am...?

        “Uh...” Scootaloo pointed behind Sweetie with her hoof. “He’s right behind you, you know?”

        “I know,” Sweetie giggled, waving her goodbye and trotting out of the treehouse.

        :::> Interesting...

        :::> I pulled myself to my full height, servos whirring up. Organic behaviour never ceases to amuse me. Their ignorance, their intelligence, their curiosity. Sweetie Belle walked up to me, a smile plastered upon her face, revealing her near-perfect white teeth. I, as I most often do, did not react at all.

        “Ready to go, Mac?” she asked, turning around and walking forth a few steps.

        :::> “Yes,” I replied with my trademark, deep, monotone, digital voice as we began walking. Such beauty in her steps, when compared to other organics. It matters not to me, but it is a detail worth mentioning. I remained with my stare locked forward, yet my focus able to be placed in my entire surroundings.

        :::> We were soon out of the small forest, and into Ponyville district itself. It had already been swallowed by Apex: a colony no longer, but a sprawling megacity. Amongst the older, wooden buildings of the quaint post-village, metallic buildings propped up. Motels, hotels, restaurants. You name it, and your organic mind would probably be right. The streets had already been replaced by metallic tiles, and hovercars soared overhead.

        :::> It was only a matter of time before the boutique came into view. Ponies, changelings, gryphons, and humans coming in and out of the main door: we were no exception, as we went in ourselves. Finding myself amongst a small crowd of people admiring the suited mannequins, I simply continued to follow Sweetie Belle. We came across Rarity, obviously too busy to handle our arrival. We walked past her. I allowed Sweetie Belle to lock herself in her room, as the normal conduct of a teenager followed, and stood outside, waiting.

        :::> Waiting...

--------------------------------------------------------------

        :::> Night had already fallen. I remained in exactly the same, statuesque position that I had adopted hours ago, by Sweetie Belle’s room, in front of a window, watching as rain fell. I had seen her no more than three times, those being her exiting the room to fulfil her organic needs. The same with Rarity, who had done her usual rounds about the boutique, as she always did at that hour. Slight paranoia brought by post traumatic stress disorder, most likely. She is a war veteran, after all.

:::> Either way, it came as no surprise to hear Rarity walking up the stairs leading to her sister’s room. What surprised me was her walking up to me instead of the door itself, a nice detail being the flash of thunder lighting up her features.

        “Mac,” she started, looking up at me. “I assume that you know Sweetie Belle is heading out to Silver Spoon’s birthday in a few minutes, don’t-”

        :::> “No,” I replied. She rolled her eyes. I knew that it bothered her when I interrupt her, but I hardly cared. Efficiency. Besides, this could be important, since probabilities state that she is most likely to ask for me to- No, politely force me to accompany Sweetie Belle. It does not matter to me which way she chooses to act, but I assume it does to you, organic.

        “I want you to go with her,” Rarity said, poking me with her hoof. As if that would change the probabilities. “You know how Silver Spoon and her friend are, so your presence there should be enough to keep them away.”

        :::> “That could bring problems,” I stated, looking down at her, staring at her. “My presence alone will be enough to keep all assets within a reasonable distance.” A disgruntled groan could be heard from beyond the door next to us. I ignored it, Rarity did not. “Which means Sweetie Belle’s probabilities for successful partnership establishment and potential coitus will be reduced by approximately one hundred-”

        Sweetie Belle groaned from behind her door. This time I chose to turn to said direction as she spoke up rather loudly, “Just go with me and get this over with!”

        :::> I do not comprehend. Was my data dump making her uncomfortable? I will reprogram if necessary.

--------------------------------------------------------------

        :::> I walked next to her at a steady pace, under the rain, holding an umbrella above her. Our steps raised water as they collided against the metallic tiles of Ponyville’s streets. I watched silently as other people walked past us, their features lit up by lightning every once in awhile.

        :::> I was tasked with making sure her dress stayed perfectly dry: the encrusted jewels of it sparkling with intensity as the lightning continued. Eventually, Silver Spoon’s mansion came into view: a large metallic building with a style reminiscent of the heyday of Equestrian arquitecture, complete with a long line of people standing outside the main gate with a team of bouncers making sure they were on the list. As per normal conduct, we stood at the end of the line, waiting.

        :::> Eventually, we advanced to the point of being the first ones in line. The two bouncers at the gate, one of them a changeling, the other a human, looked at me; the former up, the later being at the same height as me.

        “Your AI companion isn’t on the list,” the changeling said, holding a holopad up with his magic grip. “I’m afraid it’s gonna have to stay out, Miss Belle.”

        :::> “Negative,” I replied, staring at the human male. “I will enter.”

        “Look, junkie,” the human stated, placing his hands upon his hips and revealing a railpistol. “We don’t want any trouble here, so you’re leaving, that or both of you are. Okay?”

        :::> Wasting no time, I accessed his implanted neurocyte. I quickly bypassed his security measures and established a communications line with his brain. “Organic, my directive is to accompany Sweetie Belle. I always complete my directives. Lars Cadian, if you do not let me enter, I will find you tomorrow, and I will kill you. I made sure this is not being recorded, and I will erase this from your memory after you give me an answer. There is no alternative: you must let me enter.”

        :::> At that point, his eyes were bulging out of his head, sweat was trailing off of his face, and was going through an immense amount of pain.

        The man suddenly broke off from his stare. Holding his head in pain, he yelled out, “Yes, yes, you can enter! Just leave me alone!”

        :::> “Thank you,” I said, beginning my walk into the mansion together with Sweetie Belle, leaving behind a very confused pair of bouncers as the other guests looked on in confusion.