The Stable

Of course every Pony has a Pip buck on the right fore-leg, just above the hoof. This is exactly what you expect, from Ponies living in a stable. My mother lives in such a stable, and she has one of these too; just like each and every other pony in Starlight’s stable.

What she does not have, is a cutiemark. Starlight Glimmer removed them, from the flank of each Pony before the stable had even been established. The mark is unfair and imposes privileges unfairly, according to her. Maybe she is right, I have no idea.

The mare that is my mother had been quite healthy, just as every other pony in the stable; this had never wavered, at any time throughout the pregnancy. There had never been a reason for her health to be anything less than perfect. Not in Starlight Glimmers stable. No complication occurred at any time, throughout the entire pregnancy.

Just as any other foal, I had turned in her womb and stretched my fore-hooves forwards; just in time for the birth, and it had been a fairly regular birth.

“Iiiih!” the midwife exclaimed, just as my hooves slipped out into the light in the room.

“What?” my mother exclaimed.

“What is it?” the nurse in the room inquired.

“The foal, she is wearing a pip-buck?” the mind-wife responded.

“Preposterous, it is quite impossible. No pony would craft a buck for an unborn foal. The effort of doing it would be an effrontery towards the doctrine of the founder of our community!” the serving doctor pointed out.

“Nonetheless, the buck is clearly on the fore-leg of the foal!” the nurse observed.

“Indeed, the buck is actually there!” the doctor acknowledged, once she had had the chance to see for herself.

Just that one steel grey buck on the fore-leg, and no other anomalies were ever recorded. The doctor wrote a thorough report on the incident and filed it away. The report was clearly linked to my birth certificate, and the greater medical archive of the stable.

My mother was quiet, while the delivery took place, later pointing out just how easy it had been. I have some fragmented recollections of the event, but mainly based on the recording from my buck.

I had ignored the item on my fore-leg throughout the entire pregnancy. First due to the fact that I had not been developed enough, to understand that it was something to pay attention to; later, there still never came a reason to care.

“How does one remove the buck; in case of complications or the need of updates or maintenance?” the nurse inquired, as she was inspecting me and the buck on my fore-leg.

“I do not know, there appears to be no seam, or mechanism with which to unfasten it!” the mid-wife responded.

“The technician will have to see this!” the nurse prompted, as she dialed up the senior pip-buck technician.

“A foal, born with a buck? This I will have to see!” the senior pip-buck Technician Delicate Circutry pondered, while reading the report and making preparations for the house call.

Several minutes later, the technician arrived at the maternity, only to find the foal by the side of the mother. The filly had managed to have her first meal, now resting comfortably.

“Wait, what? If I had not been told, but I still can’t believe my eyes!” the technician muttered.

DC?” the nurse inquired.

The buck was clearly visible, on the right fore-leg; just as it had been said, and it appears to be fully functional. From time to time, the little screen flickered, as the image changed, or a short text appeared and disappeared.

“What in the name of Starlight Glimmer?” DC exclaimed, reading the texts and looking over the imagery on the screen.

“I will have to take the chance and connect to this buck!” DC exclaimed.

After pulling out the cord and connecting to the new bock, DC flipped between options and examined the results. The buck is indeed fully functional. Had that been the end of, the day would have been little to nothing to write home about. This buck was not merely fully functional, but also quite advanced.

“How do I explain this?” DC pondered.

“Protocalls downloaded and accepted!” DC red on the diminutive monitor.

“That is curious!” DC exclaimed; “I never had a hoof-shake this intimate before!” she pondered.

“Spell matrix loading and initializing!” DC reads.

“Okay, this is the good part;” DC exclaimed; “or when it goes horribly wrong!” she continued in a hushed, chilled voice.

A spell matrix is a very delicate component. If it handles the buck correctly, it could be quite helpful, and if it mishandled things, it would be a horror story with no real end. Rumours of misaligned smell matrixes and pip bucks were known and spread around like candy at Nightmare-night parties.

A misaligned matrix could do anything from merely missing objects, to outright kill entire legions in an instant. Most of the times, the issues were fairly innocent. There was no known incident; where any Pony had actually died, confirmed. Even if it had been a popular story; when the first really incidents had been leaked out, into the public domain.

The digital and circuitry is contained. Integration between the living Pony and the mechanical equipment is stable and functional. The flow of energy and magic seems stable and stays within, what is expected to be safe limits. Information is stored properly and handled safely. There is an internal memory and information exchange going on.

“Uh?” the filly exclaimed; after a moment of information being processed, by her buck.

“Now, that is curious! Extraordinary!” DC exclaimed, in shock and surprise.

The speech of the filly had clearly moved her, beyond expectations. Of course, a filly does not speak at this age. This is believed to be mainly, due to the lack of actual understanding of the Ponish language and in smaller part lacking motor control.

The room is still, quiet. Nothing moves and no sound could be heard.

There is a hiccup, disturbing, interrupting the tranquility of the tomb-like feel in the air and the moment.

“Mum!” the filly spoke.

The technician DC promptly collapsed on the floor and thumped, unconscious.

The nurse stirred in the adjacent room, hasting in to investigate the incident. A sound that should not be, and then the one that could not be.

“What!” the nurse breathed, as she entered the room, only to see the technician on the floor.

The filly had taken on a grey coat, with a blue tint to it; almost hiding the buck entirely, had it not been for the glossy screen covering most of its surface.

“Mum, Mum!” the filly repeated.

“Yes!” the mere merely responding, never quite catching up on what happened around her.

“Your filly, just spoke!” the nurse exclaimed, quietly.

The mother just blinked, and remained quite. The little filly did, what she was supposed to; finding the nipple and served herself, suckling in her own pace. What else should she do?

“So energetic, so enthusiastic!” the mother pondered, quiet, and content.

Of course, her little filly was healthy, nothing else to worry about.