Who am I?

by Super Trampoline

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Sad
Length: 151

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When the stage comes down and the vendors pack up, when the guests head home and the staff finally sleep, when the task you were made for–like everything–comes to an end,

who are you?

In the not-so-distant future, Golden Gates wanders an empty convention center, and wonders just that.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-18 18:28:31 UTC

I know WHAT I am, but...

She trotted the streets of San Francisco. A few people threw worried or dirty looks her way, but she shrugged them off. At this point, the answer to "What, you've never seen a talking pony before?" was generally "No (I have)".

The half-built masts of Memorial Bridge rose in the distance beyond the city. The mare, curious, grabbed a 3D model of the Golden Gate Bridge from the internet and superimposed it upon the current view. She herself had no experiential memories of the fallen span, only clinical, sterilized data about it--when the quake struck she didn't yet have sapience. It felt weird, being named after something that no longer existed. Really, a lot of things felt weird right now.

Alternating images of reality and the digital reconstruction danced back and forth within her mind

And was I programmed to council my little ponies?