Portmaster

Report no.3

I decided to explore the life of the mare some more, and instead of telling her to come, I choose to meet her at the end of her shift in their designated sleeping area. I have to admit I was shocked to see it up close. Six levels of cots stacked one above another with mere thirty centimeters of head space, covering two sides of corridor-like dormitory, a most primitive bathroom and no comforts whatsoever, not even any place to store personal property, so with your permission I am reassigning another three hundred bits per replicant to allow improving upon their new living space.

The replicants were busy building partitions between their new rooms, and furnishing them. At first Fern Leaf wanted to excuse herself from the work to accompany me, but I got an idea: it's been years since I've done any physical work, and so I offered to help her carrying the furniture.

I must say we had a terrific time together, thinking up the layout of her new living space, hanging decorations, helping other replicants with heavier pieces of furniture. I am absolutely impressed with how much Ikebana achieved with such meager funds. The new dormitory is actually a very welcoming place.

Other replicants seemed wary of me at first, but after a while of observing Fern Leaf and me working together, they became more forward. We chatted, I told them about my lessons, they actually gave me some helpful tips. Another mare, name is Serial Port, asked me if she could meet her friend who lives across the station. I saw no reason why not, so I gave her some time off.

Later Fern Leaf showed me how she makes these little miracles out of tulip petals. It's an extremely, painstakingly precise work. This time she made a hummingbird, actual size. I said I'd never seen a hummingbird, then she said she once visited an aviary... and then she saddened. I told her I'll ask Mr. Night about bringing hummingbirds to Elysium, and then we'd go see them together, and she smiled again.

I am so confused. I try to convince myself these are just simulations, all programmed responses, and I just can't believe in that. I recall her smiling face and my mind simply refuses to accept the fact she's just a machine.

"And then Hollow says, 'Baton, we all watch over half a thousand of rowdy drunken assholes each, and we manage. You have one single pony to watch over and you can't keep him in check? Are you a cop or his wife?'"

We both laughed out loud. I supported myself on Dusty's shoulder as we turned into the corridor towards the control center. She had a few less than I did.

"You're a blast, Baton. Did you really go rogue?"

"Only to save his stupid ass. He wanted me to turn him in."

Dusty suddenly went serious. "Baton, were you a policepony from moment one?"

"Yes, the same stock software, police academy with honors, serve and protect, all the standard bullshit."

"Saving him goes directly against the intended purpose of your existence. He was a criminal, wanted for an extremely serious crime, and all you needed was to put cuffs on him."

I sighed. "When a pony is in love, Dusty, pony does stupid things."

"Do you regret?"

"Tagging along with him? Do you have any clue what kind of shit he can put a mare through?"

"No, Baton. Did you ever regret saving his life?"

Shit. I activated the blood processor, and in maybe ten seconds I was sober. That was not a question to be answered while drunk.

"Dusty, at times I want to murder him with my bare hooves, but I swear if I had to burn down this universe to save him, I would."

"Software my fucking ass!" Dusty suddenly shouted out. "Fucking lie!"

"What?" I looked at her face.

She held her hoof to my chest. "Baton. You are a pony. And all of them down in the works are ponies. I was lied to all my life! I believed you are all just machines!"

"Wait." This time I put my hoof on her chest. "You are making the same mistake as him."

"What are you talking about? You should be the last pony to believe that bullshit."

"Listen to me, Dusty. Listen to me. I am not just a machine. But I am not a pony."

She looked at me, sobriety returning to her gaze as she removed alcohol from her system.

"I am a replicant. I am similar to a pony. I can feel. I can love. I can think for myself. But I am not a pony."

"How can you tell? What's the difference?"

"If these, down in the works, suddenly turned into ponies today, you'd have a bloody revolution tomorrow. We are different. We think differently. We are fond of freedom, but not obsessed with it like you ponies. We are more patient. We have lower expectations. We're more enduring. We're less emotive and more analyzing... on the average. We are just as social if not more, but we're not big on material wealth and personal success. We're empathic but we don't have the smallest competitive bone in our body. It's really hard to cause us emotional trauma, but if you really want to get under my skin, give me cognitive dissonance; causing strong conflicting feelings in a replicant is just a notch above sending them to the incinerator. You may think 'If I were Fern Leaf, I would want nothing more in the world than to break out of that hole and live like the real ponies of Elysium.' No, that's how ponies think. She thinks 'Such a nice room. It's a pity Dusty wouldn't like to live in here with me and all my friends.' She likes you a lot, but she's not a pony, and you may hurt her unintentionally if you forget that."

"Wow." Dusty pulled me into a hug. "You are a true friend, Baton."

"Thanks. So are you, Dusty."

"Damn. Now I feel bad about my job. Making you all work like that. The thing I'd want to do now the most is setting you all free."

I coughed.

"Oh. Right. Not ponies." She chuckled nervously. "It's easy to forget."

We strolled into the control room together.

Portmaster was there, at the console, monitoring progress of transitions. He had Dusty's report open on another screen.

"Miss Dusty..." he began.

"Just Dusty if you please."

"Fine, Dusty. Now you know all the essentials, and how to proceed from there. Talk with them. Ask them. Make friends. Care. Trust."

She nodded.

"There is one thing though, that I wanted to try," he continued. "I wanted to implement it in Hayburg. I never got the Count's approval. I don't know how it will affect efficiency."

"Portmaster." Dusty smiled gently. "Stomper. Our efficiency is up twenty percent already, and climbing. Drop it by fifteen percent and Mr. Night will still be ecstatic."

He pulled out the replicant value chart. The old one.

"Stomper," she protested, "I think we agreed these are off by a couple orders of magnitude?"

"Oh, but why are you so cruel?" he replied in a mocking tone. "These are the suggested buyout prices for replicants who desire freedom."

"Baton?" Dusty turned to me. "I'd approve but first I want to hear your opinion."

"I believe we can implement it safely. It's not nearly as significant a change as you think."

"I'm tempted to deposit four thousand bits in Fern Leaf's account," she said with a grin.

"But you know what she'd spend it on." I winked.

"Tulips." Dusty laughed.