I, Pony

Sitting on the bench, the reporter used his robotic arms to input some last minute ideas into his tablet. As he did, the door near him dilated, revealing a genderless pony robot. Its movements were crude, clunky, and loud as it approached him. Its dull metallic body was unpainted, marred by both time and experience. The large optical orbs protruding from its head reminded him of something insectoid, though far from friendly. Yet, as it stopped before him, he could see the extreme care and precision that had been worked into the detail to make it look so old and battered. It made sense considering the aged pony he was about to interview.

“Dr. Chloride will now see you,” it said with a voice fitting it’s theme.

The reporter put away his tablet and folded the robotic appendages along his back. Taking a deep breath, he then exhaled with a wide smile and followed the machine.

The inner sanctum of Dr. Chloride was modest for Equestria’s renown, reclusive, and quiet retired robopsychologist. He actually expected something more from such notoriety, such as when he entered her dwelling and was barraged by the vast array of awards and achievements scattered about. Even the robots that greeted him were hardly robotic in appearance. Here – all that was lacking. The world was simple, practical, and functional. There was another word he could have chosen in that assessment: cold.

Stopping at the door, the robot turned to him. “Dr. Chloride’s condition has decreased of late and her physicians have implemented strict conditions. Your allotted time has been decreased to an hour. If you cause her any undo stress you will be promptly removed.”

An hour, he thought to himself, well – there went those ideas. It wasn’t a surprise considering that the good doctor was almost a hundred and sixty. Well, maybe the “good” part of that statement was a stretch, he mused.

When the door dilated, he followed the machine into the dimly lit room where Dr. Chloride sat in an elaborate medical chair. With all the lifegiving equipment abound, all converging onto her, he couldn’t help but reassess the room as a prison. There was no moving the dry husk of a unicorn, not that he believed she could be moved in her state.

The robot introduced him to the withered yellow mare.

“Thank you Robbie,” said Dr. Chloride dismissing the robot.

The machine left with the door contracting behind it, muffling its departure.

“Times change, young stallion,” the mare began unexpectedly. “It is an inevitability to be left behind. As such, having something familiar surrounding us, keeps the dreariness of the modern day at bay.”

The reported made a questioning look.

She groaned. “Every reporter who has ever come to barrage me with questions always asks about Robbie, and I have answered the drowl question before you could ask it,” she said with a flat stare. “Now, if you don’t mind, I can’t hear so well and since Robbie doesn’t have a mouth I couldn’t read his lips. Whatever your name is, I don’t care. By the time this interview is over, my memory will have purged you as though you had never existed. So, what list of repetitive dribble have you brought to assault me?”

Dr. Sodium Chloride was as salty in appearance as was her tongue. Even for her age, that flat stare of hers pierced right through him, causing him to fumbled for his tablet with his arms.

She groaned again.

Before he could ask his first question she began to ramble. “I remember when ponies didn’t have arms to help with their everyday needs. I never cared much for them myself. I had two good hooves and my magic, but for an earth pony and a pegasi it make sense to undergo the operation.” She sat there, a look of being elsewhere. “There was a time when ponies strove for the stars…”

“We still do, Dr. Chloride,” he quickly cut in. “They just discovered another solar system on the rim behind a cloud made of anti–”

Her tone was sharp. “Expanding should not be misconstrued with striving. Ponies need to expand otherwise the federation we have created for ourselves will crumble. There’s no ‘want’ in it.” Closing her eyes she continued, “It wasn’t always as such.”

“Is that why you became a robopsychologist?” he asked barely finishing the sentence as her deadly gaze clamped up his mouth.

With a smirk, her gaze eased. “You’re probably the first that has made that connection.”

He smiled.

“Of course you’d be the first one I remembered to make that connection.”

And the smile was gone.

“This exuberant list of questions you’ve tediously compiled together, let me guess: how does a positronic matrix work or maybe you want my perspective on how robots interpret the Laws of Robotics. Perhaps both. I doubt whatever questions your mind has facilitated  hasn’t already been asked and answered or that your readership will be interested in the slightest.”

Looking over the questions he had compiled, she was correct. This was just a routine assignment, one that nopony else had wanted and for the obvious. He was here for some form of formality, what that formality was he didn’t know nor did he care. He was here on a job and that was all that mattered.

What to do now, he asked himself. Clearly this road had been well traveled before and what new angle could he provide? Then an idea came to him. “Well, since you’ve done it all before…maybe you can elaborate on that part about ponies wanting to strive for the stars.”

The smirk on the elderly pony returned. “I believe you have found your angle,” Dr. Chloride said, then tapped a button. “Robbie, I’ll require a pitcher of coffee – with two mugs. Do not forget the creamer.”

“Dr. Chloride, your are under orders not to drink anything that could stress your heart,” replied the mechanical voice on the other side.

“I am at the end of my life. A cup of coffee will not change the inevitable,” said the doctor firmly.

Silence filled the room beyond the normal noises of the life giving machines. Then, “Your coffee will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee,” said the reporter with a smile and a wave of the hoof.

She chuckled or was it a gag, it was hard for him to tell the difference. “You will after listening to my stories. I’ve been told that I’m quite dry. In any case, I’ll need the coffee merely to stay awake from boring myself.”

He didn’t doubt it. “I’m surprised the robot went along with your request. Isn’t that a conflict of the First Law?”

“Yes, it is,” she said.

“Then how did you get it to go along with your request?”

“That there is a good question. Being a robopsychologist has its moments where the positronic matrix can become an amusing playground, beyond the terror that it normally is.”

He scrunched up his face. “Terror?”

“If only ponies truly understood what my profession has to deal with. I’m getting ahead of myself of course. With any good story, there should be a foundation to work upon.” said Dr. Chloride. The aged pony stared again to someplace unknown and began. “The three Laws are designed for a purpose. They keep ponies safe and order in place, plus they keep the property from allowing itself to become damaged. Yet, for as simple as the Laws are, there are so many more complex complications that can arise from them. Then again, sometimes even complex scenarios can have the simplest of solutions.”