Chapters My Little Artificial Companion: An Interactive Story
I had done my fair share of research on the subject, out of curiosity, mainly. I wondered if it actually worked, or was just more internet bullshit. Like you can actually trust what anyone says on the internet, right? Especially if the whole craze started on 4chan.
It ended up turning into more of an obsession than just curiosity after all that time spent thinking. Tonight just so happens to be the breaking point of that obsession. I take my eyes away from the glowing light of the computer screen, and blink violently as they attempt to adjust to the sudden and seemingly complete darkness around me. It’s getting late, and I have work tomorrow.
For some reason, like every single time I get on my computer, it seems much more important than sleep. I at least need to complete the transaction if I’m really gonna do it. My heart begins to race, and so too do my thoughts. I’d been saving up practically all year for a chance to go to BronyCon. Should I really spend my money on this instead? What if it is bullshit? Then what? Two thousand fucking dollars, even more than all the costs for BronyCon, including plane tickets, food, and emergency funds combined. What the hell am I getting myself into? If this is all some scam…
I shake my head before turning to the window. The dim orange of the streetlamps adequately lights my small little neighborhood. It’s completely silent and still, not a single person walking down the street. It’s definitely not anything like the nonstop life of a big city. I’d been raised in a small town, and am definitely glad to still be in one. The only thing I dislike is that almost everybody knows everything…and quite a few of them are a bit less accepting of activities, and or people that fit outside societal norms. I can’t blame them though. It’s just a comfort thing, and comfort is definitely found in the familiar, not the unusual.
That’s why most of my nights are spent alone, in my familiar house. Damn, I’m an awkward fuck. I get nervous around anyone new, and even more nervous in big crowds. I barely even talk most of the time, unless they get me on a good subject. I guess you could call me a Fluttershy.
I’m so alone, so fucking alone… I can’t just be by myself forever. That’s why paying for this is will be worth it…at least, I hope. I bring my blanket, which had slumped off while I was typing, back up over my shoulders. It’s a chilly night, especially for summer. Maybe I should turn up the heat…eh, I’m already gonna spend enough money as is. I don’t need to waste more.
Some type of crazy cloning sort of thing. How in the hell are they getting away with it? The stuff with DNA mixing and tube grown life. The stuff that so many people find unethical and wrong. That’s why I don’t believe it. Besides, where are they getting their funding? Two thousand dollars a pop is a lot of money, but I’m guessing that’s not enough to support an entire facility like that, and keep it a secret, well, secret enough. How many people work there anyways?
This is all insane, total bullshit; and if it is real, it’s gotta just be a dream. Maybe I’m going crazy or some shit. I dunno. It sounds fake at first glance, but when you read into it, it gets pretty real. Artificially creating my favorite characters from FiM, that are fully sentient and have the exact personalities as in the show? Sounds like sci-fi or some really shitty fanfic…and I’m buying into it? 4Chan has a lot of crazies, but not even our top scientists are that good at cloning yet. Well, shit, maybe they are? They keep a lot of secrets. Maybe some of those scientists like ponies, and maybe they also frequent 4chan? Who the fuck knows…
All I know, is that I’ve heard the stories and even seen some pics. Pics that are either real, or so expertly photoshopped that they look real. Besides, I’m desperate…and if it is real, I’d really hate myself if I passed up the offer. When I think about it, two thousand dollars isn’t all that much to have a real pony actually alive and living in the same home as me.
I turn my eyes ahead, and my chair creaks slightly as I lean forward, reaching for the mouse. The sheer brightness of the screen leaves me blinded for a moment as my eyes once again readjust. This time they hurt. Well, it makes sense, I have been staring at the damn thing for hours on end.
The text I begin to read makes me chuckle, it’s an odd combination of complete seriousness, while also having that classic 4chan hate and degrading dialog.
Customer, we assume you have come to this site because of the miserable life you live. Instead of just ending your life and making the world a better place with one less pathetic cumstain to taint it, you’ve somehow managed to survive. Now in these desperate attempts to somehow make your life better, you’ve chosen the most autistic option possible. You want a friend who will never abandon you, even after discovering that you dwell in the basement of your parents’ home at the age of 35, are proud of your disgusting neckbeard, and haven’t showered in 5 months. You want a companion because even though you’ve engrained every single lesson of friendship into your brain, you still have no friends because sadly, you are even more of a pathetic faggot than you were before. You’ve always dreamed and wished that your favorite pony from your favorite show was real. Perhaps you’re even autistic enough to consider her your “waifu” or him your “horsebando”? We HAVE the solution you are looking for.
Through years of experimentation, failures, and other scientific procedures which we are not at liberty to describe in full; and which are most likely too complicated for your tiny brain, we have finally discovered, and perfected the artificial creation of pastel colored, fully sentient equines.
WARNING: Although we disagree with these claims, in the eyes of society, much of what we are doing is considered illegal, and morally wrong. This is a secure website, and much of what you’ve already learned is enough to completely decommission our “operation.” We KNOW where you live, and if any of this information is leaked beyond this website, we will COME for YOU.
FAQs: (We do not have time to answer all your brainless questions personally. READ this instead.)
Will my pony be just like he/she is in FiM? Yes. Our intelligent staff has perfected their personalities exactly, though we cannot form their memories as they happen in the show. Equestiria, Ponyville, the Elements of Harmony, ANYTHING that happened in the show, they will not know or understand. It is only their base personality. It is up to you to give these ponies meaning and memories.
Won’t my pony be surprised/scared to see a human? Of course not. We are not stupid. We have adapted these ponies’ evolutionary traits so that they have become dependent on humans for survival, just like a household dog, or cat.
So does that mean my pony is a pet? In a way, yes; but they ARE sapient beings. They think, develop ideas, live, and talk almost exactly as we do. Though you WILL have to provide food, water, care, and shelter for them just as you would a pet.
What if my pony doesn’t like me? Luckily for you, these ponies have been adapted so that they will form a strong bond with you, no matter how autistic, hopeless, or cringeworthy you are. Just like any form of relationship, this bonding does take plenty of time and attention on your part. You have to work for your pony’s love and trust.
Considering that what you’re doing is illegal, and you’ve already warned me about letting your secret out, does that mean I have to keep my pony a secret as well? Yes, if secret of your pony gets out, there will be dire consequences for you, your pony, and everyone involved. The secret is between you and us, along with your pony. ABSOLUTELY no one else can see or make contact with him/her, not even your closest friends (like you have any).
Since my pony is grown in a tube, does that mean he/she is going to be a foal when I receive him/her? No. Ponies will be aged as they are in FiM.
This can’t be real. Is this real? If you don’t think what we are doing is real, that’s your problem, not ours.
Is this wrong? I’m basically forcing a pony to be my pet and companion, right? Considering the fact that we have altered these ponies’ genetics as mentioned previously, this is exactly what they live for. As long as you are happy with them, care for them, and treat them well, they will be happy too.
Can I have sex with my pony? This question was bound to come up because you’re a sick freak. What you do with your pony is your own business, though we do not approve of rape in any shape or form. That can be left to your imagination. As mentioned previously, we know where you live.
What size are the ponies? The average size of a female pony, fully grown, is 4 feet tall (when standing on all fours). All other body types, alicorn, stallion, etc. are based upon this scale.
Creating your Companion: All ponies are currently priced at $2000. This includes delivery costs and no taxes will be charged. You may want to buy now before our prices rise. Creating sentient artificial life, and keeping it a secret isn’t cheap.
Currently, the personalities, looks, etc. of the Mane 6 are the only ones we have perfected; and at the moment, the only ponies you will be able to purchase. We apologize for the inconvenience, but perfection takes time, and we know how much you love your perfection when it comes to ponies. (We are currently working on perfecting the CMC, Princesses, and a few side characters. We are unsure how long this process will take. Due to popular demand, we are attempting to discover a way to bring your incredibly shitty ocs to life. Choose personality, looks, etc. Once again, we are unsure of how long this process will take.)
Select a Pony: Twilight Sparkle [ ] Rainbow Dash [ ] Pinkie Pie [ ] Rarity [ ] Fluttershy [ ] Applejack [ ]
Mane six, huh? That’s cool by me. The only problem, I don’t really have a favorite pony. I can’t choose one that easily, especially when it comes down to who I want to be my lifelong friend, companion…maybe even my lover? Twilight, nerdy like me, intelligent, adorkable, fun in her own ways, strong, both mentally and magically, hard headed, but sweet. Although she appreciates time spent alone, she also understands exactly how wonderful a bond between two ponies, or in this case a pony and a human can be. Rainbow Dash, completely full of herself in that cute kind of way, confident, strong, fast, bold, and totally awesome, but loyal and caring when it comes down to the ones she loves. Somepony that enjoys athletics, being active, and training to better herself, but also loves the down time in between. Pinkie Pie, excitable, crazy, fun, sweet, and loving. Somepony that’s only happy when she makes others happy as well. Rarity, sort of a diva, but so elegant and beautiful, both in her looks and her heart. Somepony who appreciates the finer things in life, but would much rather give than receive. Fluttershy, so sweet, shy, and innocent, so adorable and cute. Somepony who appreciates nature, and has a large kind and caring heart for the creatures within it and whoever surrounds her. Applejack, honest, but kind of blunt at times. She appreciates the simple things in life, along with a hard working ethic. She would do anything for her friends, family or those that she loves, in this case, me, and would never give up on any of them or anything that she sets her mind to.
My chair squeals loudly, slightly startling me as I lean back against it and reach into my pocket. I struggle to push my fingers into the small opening at such an awkward angle. Finally, I’m able to grasp my fingers around the smooth surface of my wallet and slowly pull it out. There’s no turning back now. I had been to this website every single night for the past few weeks, pondering on whether or not to spend my money and hope it wasn’t a scam. I flip it open, grab out my debit card, and then throw it onto the desk with a clack. I’m gonna do it. Two thousand dollars is nothing compared to something so priceless.
This is it. My heart begins to pound heavily. I always get nervous making large transactions, especially when they could possibly be such a waste. Along with that, the whole, I have to choose a lifelong companion and friend, and I really hope I choose right one thing was weighing down on me too. Really…who do I choose?
Author's Note
"What the hell are you doing, Dream? This isn't like you. An actual human as the main character that's also a brony, the setting is Earth, there's stuff about 4chan? This sounds unrealistic...cloned ponies, really?" Yep, I do what I want!
Anyways, here's the link. Go vote. VOTING FOR THIS POLL IS OVER. RARITY WINS THE POLL BY ONE VOTE OVER TWILIGHT. Click on the link if you want to view results, but your vote will not be counted.http://vote.pollcode.com/12195788
My Little Artificial Companion: An Interactive Story
The pointer of my mouse hovers over the checkbox of each name. It pauses the longest on Twilight and Rarity. I suck in a deep breath of air as my eyes dart back and forth between the two names. I exhale as I hear the click of the mouse once I press down. Rarity, I choose Rarity. I can’t exactly describe why I finally chose her. It just feels right, I guess. I feel like we’ll get along the best.
I’m sort of fashion forward in a way. It’s kind of fun to follow the new trends right when they start. I’m definitely not anything special, but hey, I guess I’ve got some style...as long as the clothes are cheap. I’m sure we’re going to have lots of fun together. I, of course, don’t have as much money as she’d probably enjoy, and am a bit frugal, but it’ll be nice to splurge a little for her. Besides that, she’s just, beautiful, and fun in that fancy, high class, but live a little when you can sort of way…I, I don’t know…I just, I’m not good at describing this; but I already chose her, and I’m sticking with it.
I’m finally beginning to calm down as I continuously assure myself of the decision, but my heart suddenly begins to race again as I click next and am asked to enter my card number. Type it in, and there goes two thousand dollars practically automatically…unless there’s something wrong with the card, that is.
As I go about the quick but annoying process of looking back and forth from my card to the numbers on my keyboard as I type it in, I realize something very, very odd. It asks for my name on the card, but that’s it. No billing address, no shipping address, nothing. Shit ! It’s a scam…no way in hell I’m falling for it.
I retreat from the keyboard as if it suddenly begins to burn to the touch. I then groan angrily and rub a hand through my hair, slightly greasy from the sweat of a long day at work. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I yell aloud, my heart feeling just as crushed as my hopes.
I begin to stand, ready to give up and go to bed for the night, too careless to turn off my computer or even close out of the window. Then it suddenly hits me. “We know where you live! WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!” I say gleefully, a new sense of excitement overtaking me. It might be bullshit, false hope; but I’m totally believing it.
They come from the depths of 4chan for fuck’s sake! Of course they know how to trace IP addresses, and they’re totally tracing mine right now. “They know where I fucking live!” That’s honestly kind of scary to think about in a way, but it’s making me really happy right now…well, if they actually are tracing my IP.
I back out of shit like this way too easily. If just a singular thing seems slightly off, then I don’t go for it. It’s made me miss out a lot in the past, and I’m not sure I want to miss out again. I take a deep breath and shake my head before I slam my finger down on the enter key triumphantly.
The pride only lasts a few a few seconds, then turns to the shock of, what the hell did I just do? Then to the accepting fact of, it’s over, there’s no reversing the payment now…well, there probably is, but…there’s no reversing the payment now. It’s done. Bullshit or real, I just spent two thousand dollars on a pony, a freaking pony, baby!
My mind explodes with the possibilities of what will happen if it is, in fact, real as I power my pc down and snatch up my debit card. It continues to race as I brush my teeth, take off my pants, and crash face first into the cushy goodness of my bed. The comforter smells fresh and clean…well, ehh, not really. I guess I was just hoping it would. Definitely doesn’t smell the best, not bad, but close. I need to wash it, and the sheets…and that pile of clothes lying on the floor.
I roll over onto my back to avoid the strong smell of, well, of me. I make it sound bad, it’s not really that bad. I don’t smell like shit or anything. Just, me…people have certain smells. You know what I mean…
After turning on my alarm for work the next morning and flicking off the lamp beside me, I attempt to fall asleep, and fail miserably. My mind is still racing with thoughts of my own little Rarity. It feels so unreal to think that I will have her in, shit , they didn’t tell me how long it’d be…that’s….sort of, really, stupid. Oh well, still, if this isn’t all a big scam which it’s really starting to feel like, it’s gonna be weird to actually meet a cartoon pony that I’ve gotten to know from afar, in person.
Finally, after what seems like hours of waiting, I drift off into a very light, and dream filled sleep.
***
In the middle of doing my early morning routine of exercises…what? I like to stay in shape. I mean, I’m definitely not the fittest person in the world, or in the best shape, but I at least like to maintain it a little. Anyways, my phone vibrated. Pausing my music, and lifting it to my face, I easily type in the passcode on its smooth, but slightly smudged screen. I got an email from…UNKNOWN SENDER, how nice.
I click the app and open up the email. Centered at its top before a small letter is the acronym MLACC. I remember it from last night. My Little Artificial Companion Company. The ones who are selling ponies.
MLACC
Dear Customer,
A representative of our team will arrive at your home shortly after you return from your job. He will be speaking with you to confirm that you will indeed provide your pony with a good home, and treat her with proper care. This is only a standard procedure, but a very important step to receiving your pony. He or she will take up only a short amount of your time (like you have anything better to do. You’re already desperate enough to buy yourself a pony). Do not make other plans, or if you already have, cancel them. Without completing this step, you will not receive your pony, and we have no time to reschedule a visit.
ERROR: The address from which this email was sent cannot be retrieved at this time. Unable to respond
Damn, that was quick. How the hell do you get a “representative” to my location in less than a day since I ordered? Well, at least I know it’s the real deal…or maybe they’re gonna drug me or hypnotize me to believe I have a pony or some shit. It is pretty odd that they’re actually sending someone. Either they really do care for these ponies, or they have some major resources to spare.
…Wait…what the fuck, how do they know when I get off work, and the amount of time it takes for me to get home; or is it just an assumption? This is just getting weirder and weirder. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to purchase something from a site I found linked on 4chan…or maybe it’s the best decision of my entire life. Better to stay hopeful. Besides, I’ve got the entire day until I have to worry about this “representative” guy and whatever he needs to know. I shrug off the thought, turn my music back on and go back to my morning as if nothing ever happened…even though the thought still lingers in my mind.
Author's Note
No voting in this chapter? Aww, so sad :( Don't worry, I shall release the next chapter tomorrow, and yes it has voting.
My Little Artificial Companion: An Interactive Story
The small little “ma and pa” restaurant where I work is a little farther from home than I want. Yes, just because it’s a small town doesn’t mean everything is walking distance…well it is, but it doesn’t take five minutes. That’s something kinda funny that people from cities assume. Luckily the town is large enough, or at least has enough money in it to implement public transportation.
I’m riding the bus, my head resting against the cool window. The landscape, or should I say townscape of small buildings, some new, others made of old red, slightly crumbling brick still standing after a hundred or so years, slightly blurs as it passes by. I really have no need for a car, that’s why I don’t own one. The buses get me where I need to go. The only problem is I feel trapped sometimes. If I had a car I could escape this place, and I did want to sometimes; just to get away, see something new, and forget my life for a little while. That also means gas though, insurance, oil changes, and so on, money I don’t have.
Yes, yes, I know. Go to college, you can get a better job, do what you want, and earn more money. I don’t have the kind of money for that right now either. I’m slowly saving up, but it’ll definitely be a while. Fucking money, it’s weird. You work your ass off to get it, and then it’s gone just like that. You start to think, is whatever I’m buying worth all the bullshit I go through on a daily basis to get the means to purchase it? If it’s a real pony, then I’m sure however many weeks, months even, it took me to get that two thousand was worth it.
One thing that I enjoy about riding the bus, is that it gets my thoughts flowing, my brain all fired up. It’s probably out of boredom, and sure as hell makes the ride go a lot quicker. Most of the time, like today, I barely give the world outside the bus any notice. My mind’s too busy concentrating on other things. Today, that’s Rarity. I wonder how well we’ll get along…and how I’ll act around her. Even though I’ve gotten to know her through a show, will I be as awkward as I normally am when meeting someone new; or will it be more like getting a pet…or even like meeting an old friend after years apart? No awkwardness there.
The hydraulics of the bus hiss as it comes to a halt at the stop in my neighborhood. Slightly in a daze from all the thinking, I struggle to push myself up from my seat and stumble down the aisle, almost carelessly enough to smack my hand against the arms of those still seated. I don’t of course, just barely catching myself before it happens the first time, and then becoming vigilant.
I step off the bus and take in a deep breath of the fresh, warm, summer air. It’s filled with the smell of both wild and planted flowers, along with leaves which had baked all day in the heat as they hung from their branches. This is another perk of small town life, fresh, practically smog-less air…well, maybe slightly smoggy.
I can hear the sound of my own shoes clacking against the pavement of the sidewalk beneath as I head for home. It’s fairly silent out besides the chirping of birds, a few running lawnmowers, and the playful yells of children in the distance. There’s not many people out and about either, a few working in their yards or setting up for a cookout, and others walking their dogs. I smile and give a friendly wave when I see one of my neighbors step out of his door as I walk up to my own. He does the same. I don’t know his name, or any of my neighbors’ for that matter. I just know his face. The most I’ve ever said to him is, “Hello, how are you…I’m good.”
I fish in my pocket for my key, and manage to get a finger in its loop. I easily pull it out and stick it into the door, then jiggle it back and forth. The lock is old because the little house itself is old. I’m glad I’m just renting it, it has lots of problems. I smile as I hear a familiar click and the key suddenly turns with ease. You have to get it just right or it doesn’t work.
As I reach for the doorknob a rush of shock and fear explodes through my body as I hear a very deep, “Hello,” from behind me. My entire body freezes a moment as I collect myself, except for my shaking hand which slowly backs away from the knob in its grasp.
I turn around, realizing exactly what’s going on, but then another jolt of shock rushes through me. He’s wearing a mask…nope, totally not a Guy Fawkes mask like I was expecting. It’s really unnerving to be honest; one of those masks that is meant to look like a real face, has a realistic skin color, but with way less features to the point of, that looks like a face, but a really unnatural one. I’m sure at a distance he’d just look like your average guy, but up close…it’s just weird, like I said. Painted on eyebrows, no eyelashes, a smoothed out nose, shapeless cheeks, a completely expressionless mouth, and slits for his eyes that literally fit perfectly around the shape of them…or at least it looks that way.
“No neckbeard, no ponytail, no fedora, not even any pony apparel. That’s good. You actually look normal. Well, at least you’re good at hiding who you really are.” His voice is low, very low. He must be using one of those voice distortion things. Sorta sounds like Darth Vader. It’s either a part of the mask, or he stuck it in there behind it.
I quickly turn my eyes to the cement platform beneath me. I feel even more awkward talking to a man whose face is hidden behind a piece of plastic than one whose face I can actually see. I got a quick glimpse of the rest of him as I looked down. He’s tall and slender, wearing a recently ironed white dress shirt, buttoned to the top, along with dark black dress pants and polished black shoes to go along with them, completely un-scuffed. So much so that I can literally see my reflection in them.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“There has to be something wrong with you if you are desperate enough to purchase a pony from an, honestly, untrustworthy looking website like ours,” he explains plainly, or at least the voice distortion makes it sound that way.
I nod my head softly. “Uh…yeah, I guess.”
“So, Rarity, that’s a very interesting choice. Does that mean you’re a rarifag, or do you just believe the two of you will get along well together?”
“Uh…no, I don’t really have a favorite. I just…I dunno. It felt right.”
“Damn, you’re awkward. That’s the only problem I see so far though. Can I come inside?” he began to chuckle. “Rainbow Dash, am I right?”
“Uh, yeah, heheh.” My laugh is very awkward and very fake.
“Yeah…it’s not funny. It hasn’t been funny for quite some time. It’s overused, but seriously, can I come in? It’s standard procedure. Don’t worry, I don’t want to see your weird shit; just as much as you don’t want me to see it. I just want to take a quick look.”
I nod my head, shakily open the door, and pull out my key. I look up at the fake face before me, waiting for him to enter. His shoes clack loudly as he steps up onto the cement platform. The sound then deepens as they make contact with the wooden floor inside. He walks around a bit, his head moving back and forth as he looks. I’m sure it has to be sort of hard to see out of that thing. He takes a quick look upstairs as well, not much up there besides my bedroom and the bathroom.
“Minimal pony merchandise as well. I’m surprised… Are you hiding something from me?” He asks as he returns, standing directly in front of me.
“No…I mean, I don’t think I am?”
“Just fucking with you. We already know everything about you. A simple IP address can go a very long way…it eventually leads us to emails, social media accounts, personal files and information, you name it. The main reason I’m here is for the fear factor; to show you that we really do know exactly where you live, your schedule, and so on…anyways, you know the rules, don’t fuck up. I’ll be going. Let’s hope you don’t see me again because that means you fucked up.” He extends his hand, clean and surprisingly soft as I shake it. He has a firm grip.
I suddenly pick up the courage to ask a few questions of my own. “These ponies must be really important to you? I mean, I’m assuming people like you go to visit anyone who’s buying, right?”
“Yes, very important. They aren’t just a product to us. In our labs we don’t only create them. Not all things can be learned through genetic code. We have to teach them. I taught this Rarity personally, and that’s why I took the first flight that I could when I saw your purchase. These ponies are like our family.”
“Wait…so you just have tons of ponies sitting around waiting to be bought?”
“No. Our average customer has to wait weeks before their pony finally arrives on their doorstep. You got lucky. I was in the process of training her for someone else…someone who bailed out last minute. Speaking of last minute, Rarity will be arriving tomorrow, after you return from work, of course. I advise preparing and purchasing the necessary items for an equine roommate, maybe cleaning up your house as well. I’m sure you already know that Rarity doesn’t appreciate messes.”
“Wh-what? Tomorrow?” My heart begins to pound. I haven’t prepared in the slightest. I’m exhausted from a day of working, my mind is slightly in a fog, but I need to be ready for a pony by tomorrow…how the hell am I going to do that?
“Yes. Be ready.” He turns and heads for the door.
A few more questions suddenly emerge from the scattered mess that is my brain. “Wait…” He turns, but I can’t tell if he is genuinely curious of what I have to say, or is just playing along. “From what it sounds like, your lab or facility or whatever has to be pretty big right?”
He chuckles quietly and shakes his head. “I can’t say. Is that all? I have to get going.”
“One more thing, I never got your name?”
His hand clasps around the doorknob and with a quick twist, the door is wide open and the sun from outside pours in, practically blinding me. “Just call me anon for now,” I can hear him say as he closes the door behind him.
I stand in complete silence for a moment, unable to move as I think, and still slightly shocked by the sudden entrance and exit of the strange man. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get done with everything I’d thought about doing before her arrival. Hell, I don’t even know how much of it I’ll be able to get done tonight. I better do the most important thing first…but what’s more important?
Let’s see, I need to buy some pony food. Anything vegetarian, right? Well, they like hay and leaves and stuff too…but it’s got to be a little fancy for a pony like Rarity. Ehh, I can find stuff at the grocery store, so grocery shopping. Then there’s cleaning up the house like Mr. Mask Guy said, definitely a must for a pony like Rarity. That means laundry, sweeping, vacuuming, dishes, cleaning those damn bed sheets…all the stuff that I really don’t want to do. I’d also thought of buying a sewing machine along with some fabric and what not to make her feel more at home. I mean really, who’s Rarity without her sewing machine? It’d definitely make a nice welcoming gift. Then there was buying a few new outfits, something nice and sort of fancy, and something casual but fashionable. It’s personality that counts, but I’m sure Rarity would enjoy it if her new owner…or whatever I am…knew how to dress. Besides, it’d give us something to talk about at least.
At first glance, some of these things seem much more important than others; but at second glance, those things that just seemed really unimportant are now important. Well, I better just go ahead and pick something instead of wasting my time…and start hoping that I’ll actually have enough time to check a few of these things off my list instead of just one…not likely though.
Author's Note
Go vote: http://vote.pollcode.com/53313873 VOTING FOR THIS POLL IS OVER. CLEANING UP THE HOUSE WINS.
My Little Artificial Companion: An Interactive Story
Fuck it…I really need to clean this place up, especially for someone, or should I say somepony like Rarity. Even some random teenager from off the streets would probably say this place is pretty filthy. Rarity might have a heart attack at even the sight of it.
I can’t help but chuckle. This will be the first time I’ve literally cleaned the place since I moved in. That was over a year ago. My mother had actually helped me the first time around. A housewarming gift, she called it. She also left the supplies, expecting me to actually use them. I guess I will be now. Thanks mom.
I head to the kitchen and check under the sink to see what sort of supplies she actually stocked me up with. I gaze down at the many brightly colored bottles, and clear bottles with chemicals just as bright inside. Most of these practically foreign liquids mean nothing to me. I’ve only ever used a few, and rarely at that. All I know is that I have a vacuum, broom, and mop in the closet; and some of these other chemicals are sure to help with everything else that needs to be cleaned.
First things first though, I need to get the laundry started. I head upstairs to the comforting confides of my bedroom, and immediately feel the exhaustion from a full day at work kick in. “Not yet, bed, not yet.” I say, shaking a finger at the tangled sheets and comforter upon it. “First you need a bath.” Yes, I talk to inanimate objects sometimes, that’s not too crazy, right? Pshh, if anything, me telling someone I have a pony living in my house that I talk to is going to make me sound crazy. Oh, it’ll be great. No one will ever know my little secret, get it? Fuck…I’m tired.
I attempt to shrug off the sudden exhaustion along with the strange bout of silliness as I tear anything washable away from the bed, nearly forgetting the pillow cases in the process. I pile all of it atop the already mountainous pile of clothes at my feet. I ball it up, well as close to a ball shape I can get it, and hobble my way down the stairs to the washer and drier, tucked away in closet in the kitchen.
I go through the almost ritualistic but simple process of stuffing the clothes and bed sheets inside the machine, then picking up the socks and underwear that fall to the floor. I then put them in as well. With some pushing, everything somehow manages to fit in the washer. Let’s just hope it’s actually able to spin around. I pour some soap over the multicolored clump of fabric, close the lid with a metallic pang, and set the cycle to “Heavy” before starting it.
As I hear the water begin to pour out over the clothes in the machine, I begin to remember that there’s actually a certain way you have to clean a house. You do the floors last because whatever you end up cleaning above that, may make a bigger mess on it. That makes sense. Then there’s something about starting from the top and working your way to the bottom; or is it starting at the bottom and working your way up? What difference does that make though…or does it even make any difference?
Then isn’t there something about doing bathrooms first…or is it bathrooms last? Why does cleaning a damn house have to be so damn complicated anyways? Fuck it, I’m doing the kitchen first, mainly due to the fact that it’s where all the supplies are.
It takes nearly an hour to read the instructions on the back of each bottle of chemicals to discover exactly what it’s used for. If only I’d started cleaning house at a younger age, or at least helped my mother when I lived with her, then I’d know exactly what I was doing.
As I begin to wipe away the stains on the countertop, the grime in the sink, clean the tub to a polished shine, and mop the floors, I feel as though this is more than just cleaning a house. It actually feels good, satisfying, exciting.
As I move on to dusting off the furniture and giving anything wooden a nice polish, the feeling remains. As I vacuum the rugs and the carpeted floor of my bedroom, the feeling is still there. As I give the floor a thorough sweeping and then mop it, the feeling is there, growing stronger.
I feel emptier and emptier the more I clean, but not in a bad way. It feels great, actually. Instead of a growling hunger inside me sort of emptiness, it’s like emptying the contents of a box into the trash and then returning the now, much lighter box to its original location. It’s like a large weight’s been lifted off of me.
Suddenly, it hits me. I nearly drop the mop in my hands as the discovery bursts to the forefront of my mind. I’m not just getting rid of the mess in my house, I’m getting rid of the mess in my life. From this point on, things will be different. I will have a pony in my life, a real pony. I can finally be happy. I’ll start over happy, and keep it that way. My life, the way I live, will change for the better because of Rarity. I can just sense it. It’s already making me joyful along with being completely filled with hope. I can’t help but grin and hum like a very happy idiot as I return to sliding the wet tangled mess of a mop back and forth across the already soaked floor, but having a bit of trouble with a certain few smudges. Yep, I have no clue what I’m doing, but its working…sort of.
***
I know it’s been a quite some time since I started the whole cleaning project, but I’m not exactly sure how long it took. As I pull my phone from my pocket to view the time, I take a minute to admire what I’ve done. Everything’s practically shining under the warm glow of the lights, or at least looks much brighter than it was previously. It’s sort of like one of those miraculous clean-up projects you see on TV. It’s definitely not the fanciest place in the world, but Rarity’s going to enjoy the way it looks. Completely spotless…or as spotless as I can get it.
I can feel my eyes practically bulge out of my head as I turn them down to my phone. Nine o’clock! That took nearly four fucking hours! Exhaustion suddenly strikes me again as I realize how long I’ve been at it, this time much worse than before. My legs feel weak, like they’re just going to suddenly collapse beneath me. “At least it’s done,” I say aloud and sigh contentedly. That contentedness suddenly turns into remembrance, and then the feeling of stupidity. The laundry, I forgot to put it in the drier.
I think my heart literally stops for a second as I return to the kitchen, broom and mop in one hand, the vacuum in the other dragging behind me, and see the tile floor covered with a thin, but very large pool of water. Islands of soap bubbles hang upon the small sea’s now stagnant surface. Well, at least that means no more water if it’s done, right?
I feel a sudden chill on my feet, and as I lift them they feel much heavier than normal, and much wetter. I turn my eyes hesitantly to the floor beneath…and yep, it isn’t just the kitchen. Slowly, the water is migrating out into the living room. Luckily for me, the floor’s wooden, and the only rug in the living room is in front of the couch. This is still going to take ages to soak up. I guess I’ll just get mopping…
Since my socks are already wet, might as well get the drier going; as long as none of the electrical shit’s in the water, that is. I peer behind the machine just to make sure, the lowest wire I can see is where it plugs into the wall, the water isn’t anywhere near that yet. I open up its door, along with the washer’s and go about shoving the large, soggy lump inside. Let’s hope this doesn’t mess up the drier too. Why don’t I just put the clothes in small sections at a time? Well, because that’s too tedious. I just want to press start and be done. Just as I did with the washer, I turn the knob to "Heavy" before starting.
As the machine kicks into gear, loudly at that, I return to my mop and head to the center of the kitchen. As I stick it down into the water, let it soak up to its max, and then squeegee it out into the sink, I can’t help but think of The Sims. For those of you that have played it, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Anytime anything involving plumbing breaks, the floor starts to get covered with water, then you sit there and watch your Sim spend hours mopping up the mess. Well, that’s me at the moment, a Sim, and yes, I have a feeling this will take hours.
***
Finally the floor is nice and…damp, close enough. I pull out my phone again, it feels like ages since I’d checked it last, and even ages since the drier went off, for that matter. Eleven…shit. No way in hell I’m getting anything else done tonight. I haven’t even eaten anything for dinner yet, and I feel like I could fall asleep at any second…way too much work.
I pour a fairly large pile of pizza pockets onto a plate and throw them into the microwave. What? It’s quick, easy, and I’m starving. I burn my mouth and fingers as I shove the food into my face, barely giving myself any time to take a seat at the table.
After easily finishing off the pile, I guzzle down a glass of water to help cool the burn. I then wash both of the dishes, not wanting to leave any trace of a mess behind. I’ll just fold the clothes tomorrow morning when I get up. I’m feeling groggier and weaker by the second. Everything seems slightly blurry, and it gives off the sense that it’ll start spinning at any second.
I slowly climb my way up the stairs, and opt on not heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. They’ll be fine for one night. Besides, I can brush them nice and good in the morning. I flick on the light in my bedroom and blink at the naked mattress before me. “Damn it !” I whine.
I pace back and forth before the bed, consuming the rest of my energy as I decide on a plan. Considering the fact that I have no more…yep. I collapse onto the cool white surface of the mattress, pull a pillow up beneath my head and close my eyes. They quickly shoot back open as I remember to turn on my alarm and flick off the light. I groan and flick the light back on, then squint at its sudden harshness. My feet are freezing, and I know exactly why. I struggle to pull the quenched socks away from them. It’s as if the fabric turned into glue.
I throw them aside as I finally get them off, and hear a saturated smack as they make contact with the floor. I suddenly realize that I’d walked all across the floors with those socks. Eh, screw it. It’ll evaporate…and hopefully not leave any sort of stain behind. I reach over and turn off the light again. Almost as soon as my arm retreats from beneath the lampshade and to my side, I am lost in my dreams. This time they involve my survival on a strange soapy island in the middle of the sea, clothes floating around on its surface…and of course some more about Rarity, as well.
