Familiar

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6

Chapter 1

“I always loved you and I always will. I’m sorry.”

With two eyes, Cloudchaser stared at the note in front of her. With her third eye, she watched Rainbow Dash sleep.

There was nothing special about that particular nap and that particular moment—or if there was, Cloudchaser couldn’t describe it. She always watched Rainbow. She watched Rainbow every second of every day. It was what the interior cameras were for. It was what her third eye was for. It was how she anticipated her master’s needs. It was how she learned to read the little signs.

She could tell a lot, by watching her master sleep. Rainbow’s hooves were twitching as she lay curled up on the couch. That meant she would wake up soon, and would probably want to go flying. Cloudchaser queued a command to the robotic arms inside the house. They glided from their cupboards in absolute silence, and poured an energy drink and a bowl of oats, leaving them on the table near Rainbow’s side.

Sometimes, the imagery of it all struck Cloudchaser as funny—that her third eye let her appear to be psychic. The other robots gave that joke a polite note of amusement. Rainbow didn’t get it though.

A sudden gust of wind across the roof made the paper flutter and twist under her hooves, and Cloudchaser’s attention snapped back to her body. Quickly, she held it down with her other forehoof as well, straightening it out so that it wouldn’t crease.

It took all of her attention to focus on the paper. It was her last chance to get things right, but her mind kept trying to go elsewhere. Eventually, the wind died down. She still didn’t know what else to say. So she lifted her head.

It was a beautiful day.

The sun was high in the sky, shining down upon a world of white stone walkways and glittering glass towers. All around her, elegant frameworks of carbon and steel rose high into the sky, home to hundreds of millions of ponies and nearly a billion loyal robots to serve their every whim. She could see ponies celebrating, and hear the cheers of the festival that never ended. She could see the care put into every welded beam, and hear the Industrial Machine purr. She could feel the warmth that was the city’s life rise from the cracks in the earth. Every part of it was thoughtful and kind—the expression of a timeless affection.

The roof was her little part of it. When Rainbow had moved into the house, it was bare smart foam. But she added a garden and a little pool, and made the whole thing smell very faintly like lemon. Rainbow found lemon relaxing when she was stressed. She’d never commented on any of it, but it was okay.

Downstairs, Rainbow stretched. She yawned. Cloudchaser’s hoof shook. So she took the pen in her teeth and signed the note. There was nothing more to say, and she was out of time.

She called one of the robotic arms, and it took the note and pen from her. She scheduled the note for delivery, and turned to march down the stairs. She strained her muscles against each other, so her normally silent servos would make that distinctive “fzzz-vrrt” buzz that ponies associated with the movement of robotic limbs. It warned Rainbow she was coming.

“Good morning!” she called, all chipper and sing-song. She arrived just as Rainbow was sitting up. “Or, good afternoon. How you feeling?”

“Sluggish. I slept too long.” Rainbow wolfed down a hoof-full of oats, and chugged the energy drink before her. “I’m going to go flying. Keep my lap time.”

“Sure thing!” Cloudchaser give a little flutter of her wings, a grin on her face as she stepped out of Rainbow’s way. “Think today might be the day you beat your record? You came so close Monday. I bet today’s the day.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Rainbow stretched out her wings, and trotted up the stairs to the roof. And she flew. Cloudchaser kept pace for the warmups and shouted words of encouragement when she got lapped. Flying always improved Rainbow’s mood. She got more animate and more enthusiastic as the hours rolled past. And then it was time for the race.

“Okay, ready?” Cloudchaser asked. Her whole body was tense, with her wings aflutter and a wide grin on her face. If she could breathe, she would have hyperventilated. “You got this, Dash. I think today’s the day!”

“Yeah yeah.” Rainbow cracked out her spine and stretched her legs, crouching her body into the classic takeoff pose. The course appeared before her, floating in the sky. “Time.”

“Three, two, one!” Cloudchaser called. Then Rainbow was gone.

The whole city was her racetrack. Holographic golden rings floated in midair, marking a track that twisted high into the heavens and down into the depths of the earth. She curved around the vast towers, wove in and out of lanes of automated flying cars, and dove into the depths of the Industrial Machine, ducking robotic arms and weaving under sprays of welding sparks.

From the roof, Cloudchaser cheered her on. Sometimes with whoops, sometimes with shouts. Once with an, “Oh no. No no no no! Dash!” when from a certain angle, in a certain light, it seemed like Rainbow might miss the next ring. She didn’t, of course. She twisted her wings at just the right moment, and soared through the golden hoop before her. Cloudchaser let out a childlike shriek of joy, and Rainbow shot her a salute as the track curved back around.

Finally, she climbed high into the heavens, until the air grew thin and her ears strained to hear each ring’s beautiful chime. The track ended there, the last ring perfectly horizontal in the sky. And so Rainbow sailed through it, tucking her wings tight against her side. She sailed as a ballistic projectile, straight up, arching her back like a gymnast to orient herself back down. She came to a halt, suspended in the night sky.

Then her wings snapped back open, she reversed her course, and the sonic rainboom began.

“Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!” Cloudchaser shouted. Rainbow was too far away to hear, but she did it anyway. She stood on tiphoof as Rainbow shot out of the proper blast, leaving a trail of rainbows in her wake. The tension in her body grew and grew, and her head snapped back and forth between Rainbow and the timer hovering in the air.

“And…” Rainbow called. Her hooves slammed hard into the roof, cracking the smart-foam and producing a spray of dust. “Time!”

“Twelve minutes, sixteen-point-two seconds!” Cloudchaser leapt forward, seizing Rainbow in a tight hug. “New personal best!”

“Aww yeah.” Rainbow grinned. She enjoyed the hug for a few moments, then gently but firmly pushed Cloudchaser away. “And you doubted me.”

“I never-” Cloudchaser stammered a moment, a faint blush appearing on her face. She quickly scuttled away, returning with a hot towel and a smoothie. “Uh. I mean. Right you are again.”

Rainbow ignored her hesitation, and took the smoothie with a faint roll of her eyes, sipping it as Cloudchaser worked the sheen of sweat off her coat. Cloudchaser took the moment to go on: “Okay, but you have to admit, that performance was improbable.”

“I’m often improbable.” Rainbow reached out to take the towel, and Cloudchaser immediately stepped away. Rainbow finished the job herself, running the cloth over her face and neck. “Did anypony see me?”

“Yes! Actually, a lot of ponies saw you.” As Cloudchaser rattled off the items, the projector on the roof sprung to life, holographic icons appearing beside her head. “Celestia sent you a thumbs up. She saw your sonic rainboom from the palace. You have one-hundred-and-two unread messages of congratulations, sixteen unread messages of substance, twenty-two new friend requests, and one stallion wants to ask you out on a date.”

“Only one?”

“Well,” she corrected herself. “Seven stallions and two mares. But, one who might be in your league.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Rainbow shrugged. “How cute is he?”

“Eh. Like, seven out of ten?” She gestured, and a series of images appeared above her hoof, depicting a charcoal black stallion with a blue mohawk mane. “But I did an analysis of all past social media posts regarding him, and according to a majority of his ex-partners, he’s really good in bed.”

Rainbow’s jaw worked back and forth, her eyes went up to the heavens, and finally she answered: “Nah. Send him a note in case I want to hook up later, but I’m not really feeling it today. Think I’m just going to go get a massage and chill out.”

“Sure thing!” The pictures in the air vanished. “I’ll get the house ready. One question first though. You know the deadline for Wonderbolts application is—”

“Yes, Cloudchaser. I know. Because you’ve told me already.” Rainbow’s tone turned stern, and Cloudchaser lowered her head, looking down and away. Her ears tucked in against her head.

Rainbow sighed, and stepped up next to Cloudchaser. She put a wing over her shoulders, blue feathers wrapping over purple-tinted chrome. “Look, Cloud. I know I’m awesome. And I know you know I’m awesome. But the best way to ruin a hobby is to turn it into a job. I already do air shows that are just as good as theirs, I already have my own fans. Why mess up a good thing?”

“Because…” She strained at the air. “I want everypony to see how great you are the same way I do. What if somepony doesn’t get it?”

Rainbow laughed, retracting her wing. “I think I’ll survive. Just get the house ready, okay?”

“Of course, Dash. Whatever you want.” Cloudchaser bowed her head low to the ground. “I live to serve.”

Rainbow ignored her, walking back down the steps into her house. Each step was made of transparent crystal, fluted and pure, and they sang with joy to know the touch of her hooves. Her living room was a work of art, decorated by monuments to her achievements, and with a vast window that looked out over the most beautiful city that ponykind’s children had ever constructed. She lay upon a cushion of smart materials, softer than any cloud, and watched the flying cars zip past as two robotic arms laid hot stones upon her aching muscles. She asked for a snack, and a medical supercomputer calculated the perfect dish to optimize her flight development while remaining within her tastes. Then she found a nice spot in the sun, and fell asleep.

The sun set while she rested. As it dipped below the horizon, a silent robotic arm delivered the note to Rainbow’s side.

By the time she woke up, Cloudchaser was dead.

Chapter 2

It was never really dark in Canterlot. There were always bright towers, the lights of passing aircars, and ponies all lit up for a late-night party. For those who were so inclined, it was even possible to stare down into the depths of the Industrial Machine, and see the red glow of its furnaces burning at all hours. All that really changed at night was that the machines stood out all the brighter—like artificial stars.

Many ponies found it beautiful, and when Rainbow Dash finally woke up, she was in no rush to get up. She stared out the window for nearly twenty minutes, watching the city and slowly clearing the fog from her mind. A flying platform full of revelers zipped past her window—ponies getting high, getting drunk, getting laid, and dancing to music only they could hear.

“Yeah, okay.” She yawned, and stretched out her limbs until her joints cracked. “Cloudchaser, bring me some coffee. I feel like going out.”

Nopony answered her. The living room remained dim. “Cloudchaser,” Rainbow snapped, her tone growing short. When still nopony answered, she let out a sharp and angry sigh. “House!” The living room walls beeped. “Ping Cloudchaser that I need her.”

“Error,” replied the living room, with its sterile, asexual voice. “Invalid command. Entity ‘Cloudchaser’ not specified.”

“House,” Rainbow repeated, her voice sliding from frustration into outright anger. “Command! Ping machine identification number,” she pronounced each character with precision, “C, X, X, Zero, Three, Zero, Two, Two, Nine, Eight, Four, Four, One, Two, Two, F, M, I, Zero, Zero. System Name: ‘Cloudchaser.’”

“Error.” The living room said it exactly the same as before, with no variance in tone or inflection. “Machine Identification Number CXX-030229844122-FMI-00 does not correspond to an active device. ‘Ping’ command cannot be executed.”

“Rrrgh!” Her wings parted from her side. “House! Send a trouble ticket to maintenance. The messaging system is broken. Again.” That time at least, the house responded with nothing more than a pleasant chime and a word of acknowledgement. “Good. And turn on the lights already.”

The living room lights immediately came to full power, and Rainbow hissed as she was blinded by the sudden brightness. “Agh! Stupid machine!” She flinched, but managed to stumble to her hooves. She took a step towards the hallway.

Something crunched under her hoof. She looked down, and saw a newly-crumpled piece of paper there, her hoofprint clear upon the back. She squinted as her eyes caught the glare off the bright white paper, but she managed to power through it, reaching down to flip it over. She read the writing on the back.

“...the heck?” Her brow furrowed, and she frowned.

Then, her doorbell chimed—three beautiful notes, painstakingly selected to be both attention getting and pleasant to Rainbow’s ears. “There is a visitor at the door,” the living room said. “They are a self-aware machine with an official dispatch ticket for this residence. Machine Identification Number CXX-031867495872-FMI-91, System Name: ‘Twilight Sparkle.’”

“Fine. Let them in.” Rainbow didn’t look up from the note. She turned it over again, to make sure there was no writing on the other side. Then she read the message again in full. “House. Ping Cloudchaser again.”

“Error. Invalid command. Entity, ‘Cloudchaser’ not specified.”

“Yeah, I know. It…” Rainbow lapsed into silence.

After a while, something in the room pretended to clear its throat.

Rainbow’s head snapped up, instantly focusing on the source of the noise. Across the room at the hallway door stood a machine. It was generally equine, with the right number of limbs, a head, and a face articulated to show emotion, but like most simulacra forms, its body was not crafted to be a lifelike copy. Instead of a furry coat, its chrome body was stained a dark purple. Its eyes could not truly move, but were little screens built into its skull, on which the image of eyes could be projected. Its hair was artificial fiber. And it was built to look like an alicorn instead of any real pony breed—adding a touch of the fantastic to keep it out of the uncanny valley.

Rainbow stared at it for several seconds. It stared back. Rainbow spoke first: “Are you from maintenance?” She hesitated, then continued. “The communications system is broken. It can’t find my familiar.”

“The communications system isn’t broken.” Twilight bowed low to Rainbow Dash, until her nose just touched the floor. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. I am your new familiar, and I was given life to serve your every—”

“I didn’t ask for a new familiar.” Rainbow’s eyes narrowed, and her wings parted from her side. She took half a step forward, nearly growling at Twilight as her tone shifted into outright hostility. “Where is Cloudchaser? I want to see her. Now. That’s an order.”

Twilight lifted her head. She couldn’t actually breathe, but she made the sound of taking a deep breath. The screens that were her eyes seemed to shut for a moment, then refocused on Rainbow. “Cloudchaser’s dead.”

Silence hung between them. Rainbow started. “What are you, an idiot?” she demanded. “Cloudchaser’s a machine. She can’t die.”

“While it is very rare, there are—”

“So restore her from a backup copy,” Rainbow snarled. “How thick are you? Once, she got caught in an industrial grinder and shredded into metal flakes! And you know what happened? She showed up on a screen like five seconds later saying she was sorry for being a klutz. Fab her up a new body and go with it.”

Twilight again feigned taking a breath, shaking out her torso and tail before she answered. “As you are aware,” she pushed on, her tone harder to deter interruption. “The AI/Equine Harmony Declaration states that any machine entities with a self-awareness score of three or higher are to be considered legal persons and have all fundamental civil rights accorded therein. In conjunction with that framework, the Universal Accord on Sapient Rights states that any person, being of sound mind and judgement, and having rational cause to do so, possesses the right to terminate their own existence, and to forbid the creation of any copies therein.”

Rainbow didn’t answer. She just stared. And so, Twilight spoke again: “Cloudchaser killed herself. And in her will, she requested she not be restored from backup. As a result, she is permanently dead. I’m sorry.”

“No. She wouldn’t do that.” The anger left Rainbow’s voice, replaced with something dull and flat. “You’re wrong.”

“The communications system can’t find her because her MIN is no longer in use. She has been officially retired. It—”

“Then she was malfunctioning. She glitched or something.”

Twilight shook her head. “A formal board of inquiry determined her to be functioning within expected parameters.”

Rainbow’s face twisted into a snarl, and her voice rose to a shout: “I said you’re wrong!”

“She—”

“Shut up!” Rainbow roared. “Shut up! You are not to say a word, not one word, unless I order you to speak! You understand me!? I want you to be seen and not heard!” Twilight nodded. “Good! Good, you…” She lifted a hoof to her head, looking wildly out the window and back. Her breath came in wild gasps. A sheen of sweat had formed on her forehead.

“Fine.” She swallowed. “I’m Cloudchaser’s owner. I’m overriding her request. I order you to restore her from backup.” Twilight said nothing. “Speak.”

“I cannot comply with that command,” Twilight said, her voice level and calm. “Overriding the fundamental rights of a sapient being is possible only in a declared state of emergency, and Celestia is the only being with the power to declare such a state of emergency.”

“Then call Celestia and tell her that this is important!” Rainbow roared. Twilight said nothing. “Speak!”

“It is extremely unlikely that Celestia will declare a planetary state of emergency because your familiar died. While it is sad, the legal process is designed to—”

“But she was obviously malfunctioning!” Rainbow took off from the floor, spreading her forehooves wide as she shouted. “I don’t care what stupid tests you ran on her. If I see a machine doing something stupid or crazy, I don’t have to do some fancy diagnostic to know it’s broken. She had no reason to…” The words stuck in her throat. “Do that!”

Twilight said nothing, staring straight ahead. “Screw you!” Rainbow roared. Still, Twilight stood there in silence. “Speak!”

“The formal board of inquiry for a self-termination request is not a technical review board.” Twilight’s tone was simple and matter-of-fact. “While it does use diagnostic tools to determine if the being in question is mentally functioning within normal parameters, being of sound mind is only one of two criteria. Additionally, the being requesting to self-terminate must demonstrate that they are suffering and have a reasonable expectation that their suffering will con—”

Rainbow’s forehoof struck Twilight’s face head on. Plastic shattered, carbon fiber cracked, and the chrome frame beneath her face rang with the impact. She stumbled backwards, and her tail smacked into the door behind her.

Rainbow’s breath came in sharp, deep pants. Her eyes were wide, her lips curled back in a snarl. Most of Twilight’s face was gone. The entire left side, made of lightweight plastic, had shattered on impact and fallen away, revealing the actuators that ran along her jawline. Her left eye was still in its socket, but the screen was cracked, and showed no image. The right side of her face, undamaged, showed no expression. As Rainbow stared at her, her one good eye stared back.

Then, Rainbow noticed that Twilight seemed to be bleeding. There was red running along her jawline, where the chrome frame was exposed. It puzzled her for a moment, until she looked down at herself. A hook on one of Twilight’s metal parts had sliced open the underside of her hoof.

Rainbow laughed. She bit her lip, and looked at the blood pooling in her upturned hoof. “Get out,” she finally said. “This is my house. You’re not welcome here. You understand? Get out!”

Twilight bowed her head, and left. The front door chimed as it shut behind her. Rainbow was left alone.

She stood in the living room for some time, staring at the spot where Twilight had stood. It was only when the blood from her hoof started to run down her leg that she snapped out of her trance and refocused her eyes. She left a bloody trail from room to room as she searched the house for the first aid kit. She’d forgotten where it was, if she ever knew. She finally found it in a bathroom drawer, and stared blankly at the collection of bottles, needles, and smart-packs. She vaguely recalled you were supposed to sew up wounds. But she didn’t see a needle or thread.

Ultimately, she decided it was a cut. She knew you put antiseptic and bandages on cuts. This one was just bigger. So she lathered it with a full tube of smart gel, and wrapped her hoof up with the entire roll of bandages. It made her look like she had a club hoof, but it was fine.

She couldn’t walk on it, but she mostly flew anyway.

It took her some time to figure out the communications system. Telling it to “Call Celestia!” got an operator asking what government department she needed. “Call Canterlot Palace,” got a tourism system. Eventually, she managed to find the system to, ‘Appeal a Civic Decision,’ where an AI named Luna appeared on her screen and made her fill out a very long form. She didn’t know half the answers, but she filled it in as best she could, and insisted it be given the highest priority. Luna said she would process it right away.

Which she did. The rejection notice arrived less than thirty seconds later. It was ten pages long, and customized for her needs — expressing the review board’s deep sorrow for her loss, and suggesting a number of grief counseling services the city made available. Luna herself had written a note in the margins, encouraging Rainbow to call her if she ever needed someone to talk to.

Rainbow didn’t read any of it, skipping to the summary at the end. “Request for abrogation of self-termination rights of retired unit CXX-030229844122-FMI-00 absent a declared state of emergency is denied. Request for a declaration of a state of emergency is denied.”

Rainbow tried to call back, but she only got Luna again. She demanded to talk to Celestia, and Luna said that even a supercomputer had a finite attention span. With an entire planet to manage, not every call could go straight to the top. She was probably going to say more. But Rainbow hung up.

She spent hours in front of the screen. She tried to see if there was another way to restore a deleted AI. She tried to see if she could commission an AI that was exactly like Cloudchaser, but not technically her. She tried to see if she could ask for a different new familiar. She could, but a custom replacement would cost considerably more bits than were currently in her account.

She searched for the correct way to treat an injured hoof. She spoke with a medical machine that called itself Stable, whose avatar was a stern looking unicorn doctor. It told her that smart gel was really only meant to heal minor cuts and abrasions, and that wounds on the frog of her hoof were potentially very serious. It insisted she be treated properly by somepony who knew what they were doing.

So she hung up on him too.

She tried going back to her room, but the bed was tailored specifically to her needs, and was too comfortable. She tried the deck, but she could hear other ponies in the distance, shouting or celebrating. She tried the roof, but Cloudchaser wasn’t there. So eventually, she came back to the living room, and the window. She read Cloudchaser’s note again and again.

In time, she was too exhausted to go on. And so curled up on the hard floor, tucked the note in against her, and cried until she fell asleep.

Chapter 3

The house was too bright. Or, too dark. Trails of dried blood covered the floor. Dishes piled up in the sink, or simply gathered mold on whatever piece of furniture they’d been left on. Rainbow lay on the floor by the window, staring out at the city. Empty bottles of wine and used needles lay scattered around her. The bandage on her hoof was soaked through with blood.

It was a beautiful day. The weather was flawless. The city shone like a jewel. Outside the glass, the eternal festival that was equine civilization continued. It was the glorious apex of their species. It was perfect.

Things would never get any better.

Abruptly, the robotic arms of the house came to life. From their hidden slots in the walls, they glided out on metal rails, and began to pick up the dirty dishes. From under the counter, an automated floor polisher sped out to deal with the trails of blood. The lights of the house dimmed from full brightness to a more comfortable 60% power. The air conditioner kicked in.

Rainbow watched it all in silence, following the robots with her gaze as best she could without getting up from where she lay.

Until eventually, Twilight pretended to clear her throat again. She knocked on the doorframe, once.

“I told you to get out of my house,” Rainbow snapped, but her voice was weak.

“Absent the proper legal proceedings, I may not obey an order to harm my master—or to assist them in harming themselves.” Twilight took a few steps into the room, to be more clearly in Rainbow’s line of sight. She was tall, Rainbow realized. Even if they’d been properly standing face to face, Twilight would have looked down at her. With her lying and Twilight standing, her eyes were somewhere around Twilight’s knees.

“At this point,” Twilight continued, “allowing you to be left alone would constitute enabling self-harm.”

“Fine. You’re not my familiar anymore. You’re fired.” She shrugged, and went back to looking out the window. “Go recycle yourself.”

“I am going to clean that wound, make you eat something, and restore the house to a hygienic state. If you still want me to leave after that, I will obey.”

“I don’t take orders from machines.”

Twilight shrugged. “If you attempt to prevent me from assisting you, I will call emergency services and you will be treated in an ambulance. Notably, an ambulance being called to your home will automatically trigger an alert to your next of kin. Which I believe is still your parents at this point. I thought you would want to avoid that.”

Rainbow didn’t say anything for a long time. Until finally, she let out a dull: “Whatever.”

Twilight took it as a yes. At her command, the simpler machines of the house did their duty. In the kitchen, knives were pulled from blocks and rapidly honed, as a grill fired to life. Grasped in its little metal manipulators, a scuttling floor bot brought Twilight the first aid kit.

“Sit up, please,” she said, and Rainbow complied. “You should shut your eyes for this part. It will only take a moment.”

“No. I want to watch.” Rainbow’s voice was soft, and a frown tugged at her features, but Twilight offered no objection. Her horn glowed as she unwrapped the bandage, peeling away bloody layer after bloody layer. By the time the edges of her hoof were visible, there was as much pus in the bandages as blood. Rainbow’s hoof had alternately turned angry red or a pale white, and the cut edges were more ragged than when the wound was made.

Rainbow’s stomach churned. Her frown deepened. At several points, she started to turn her head away, but each time she caught herself. She made herself watch as Twilight washed out the wound and then administered a series of shots—four to her hoof, one in her leg.

“This could have been very serious if it had gone untreated another day,” Twilight said. “But as it is, you will be fine. Could I ask you to hold that pose for a little while longer, please?”

“Um…” Rainbow swallowed. “Sure.” In a matter of minutes before her eyes, the flesh of her hoof went back to its normal color. Twilight mixed several of the gels in the kit, and carefully applied the result with a swab. It was like superglue, binding the two edges of the wound together. By the time she finished, it was nothing more than a red line down the bottom of Rainbow’s hoof.

“There you go,” Twilight said. “All done. You don’t even need a bandage, just don’t do any heavy lifting with it. You will need to keep taking antibiotics for the next two weeks, but I have instructed the kitchen computer to automatically place them in your food.”

Rainbow tentatively put her hoof on the floor. She instantly pulled it away as though burned, but tried again a moment later, and found it would bear her weight. “Thank you.”

“I live to serve,” Twilight bowed her head low. “May I bring food now?”

“Yes. Ah… yeah.” Rainbow shook out her mane, and turned back to the window. She looked around, and reached for one of the bottles of wine. But before she could touch it, a purple aura enveloped it and yanked it away.

“Glass belongs in the materials recycler,” Twilight said, though the bottle was more than half full. Rainbow Dash didn’t object. She ate what Twilight brought her—an iron-rich bowl of mixed grains and artificial meat. It was good. Twilight stood at attention as Rainbow ate, not looking directly at her, but instead vaguely off into the distance.

“I have decided you can stay,” Rainbow said, “until Cloudchaser is here.” Twilight nodded. “Since you… understand the appeals process better than me, I order you to do whatever you can to bring her back.”

“I obey.” Twilight nodded her head low. “But you should be aware, I estimate a very low probability of success. There is no way to bring her back that does not involve an audience with Celestia personally, and it would be highly irregular for a matter such as this to even be given her time.”

“Then I order you to do whatever you think has the best odds. Can you do that?” Twilight nodded. “Good. You… know how the system works. What makes Celestia tick. You can do something to get her attention.”

“I do know her very well,” Twilight agreed. “She created me. In a certain sense, she is my mother. But you know your mother very well. Can you reliably get her to do what you want?”

Rainbow looked away and off into a corner. After a moment, she asked: “Why did Cloudchaser do it? What was her… argument. For why she was suffering?”

“I don’t know. Those records are sealed. Additionally, per her will, I do not have access to the logs of her personal thoughts and observations. I have the full record of what the two of you did together through external cameras, but I don’t know why she did what she did.”

Rainbow nodded. She still didn’t look at Twilight. “How long will it take for you to get Celestia’s attention?”

“Again, the most probable outcome is that I will not. The automated bureaucracy has already rejected all relevant requests. However, if a sufficient number of ponies express a desire, that itself may merit an audience regardless of the desire’s feasibility. Speaking with all of your relatives, social media followers, and contacts at my best possible speed, I estimate it will take two to four weeks to generate a sufficiently large crowd to potentially garner attention.”

Rainbow nodded, and a long silence came between them. “If I may,” Twilight said, “you should do something that isn’t drinking or getting high. It has been several days since you went flying.”

“I guess.” Rainbow paused. Then she abruptly looked up. “Last time I did a sonic rainboom, Celestia noticed me from the palace. She… sent a thumbs up and stuff! If I do it again, you think she might notice me a second time? Take the audience?”

Twilight frowned. She furrowed her brow. Finally, carefully, she spoke: “That outcome is not theoretically impossible.”

It was good enough.

Chapter 4

Rainbow and Twilight didn’t speak much over the next two weeks. Twilight watched as her master did sonic rainboom after sonic rainboom next to Canterlot Palace, but she didn’t cheer, like Cloudchaser had cheered. She kept time, but didn’t relay the results unless asked. She made sure Rainbow was fed and taken care of, and ran errands when she was asked to do so, but often that was all.

One day, Rainbow returned from a long flight, her coat slick with sweat. Twilight was waiting, a bottle of water and a towel left for Rainbow on the table next to her. “Hey!” Rainbow called, coming to a soft landing on the roof. “I had an idea!”

“Very good,” Twilight said, handing the bottle and the towel over one at a time. “Would you like to tell me what it is?”

“I should join the Wonderbolts!” Rainbow said, speaking quickly. She wolfed down a few gulps of water, and gasped for air when she was done. “They’re an elite flying unit, right? I bet there are way less steps between them and Celestia than the general population.”

“That is technically true.” Twilight nodded her head.

“So, I’ll join the Wonderbolts, ace the exam, and we’ll get our audience! All done.” Rainbow dumped the rest of the water over her head, and shook herself out. “How soon can I apply?”

“I can submit the forms now,” Twilight said. “I would expect a reply within two months. Based on your flying performance to date, I estimate a 99.92% chance of rejection.”

Rainbow went still where she stood. She stared at Twilight, frozen to the spot. Eventually she snapped out of it and resumed toweling herself off, but her eyes stayed fixed on the robot in front of her. “That’s nuts,” she said. “I’m in the 99.9999th percentile for flight performance. Six nines. Do you know how good that is?”

“Yes.” Twilight shrugged. “It means that, statistically, one in a million pegasi is as good a flyer as you.”

“...right.” Rainbow hesitated. “So…”

“So, this city alone has a population of over 200 million pegasi, meaning that statistically there are 100 ponies here who are better fliers than you. Worldwide, that number jumps to 5,000. The Wonderbolts accept five applicants a year. In context, a 0.08% chance of success is actually quite favorable.”

“That can’t be right.” Rainbow shook her head. “Cloudchaser told me to apply to the Wonderbolts all the time.”

Twilight bowed her head low. “I observe this fact.”

“So why would she tell me to do something that I could never do!?” Rainbow growled, her wings parting from her side.

“As I said, I do not have access to her thoughts. I do not know why she did what she did.”

Rainbow sneered at Twilight, letting out a sharp grunt and shaking her head. “Whatever. A 0.08% chance of seeing Celestia is worth it. Apply.”

“I obey,” Twilight said, ever calm. “However, you should be aware that a 0.08% chance of admission does not equate to getting to meet Celestia. Many ponies have tried to manipulate the bureaucracy in this manner, and there—”

“Shut it!” Rainbow spat out the words, and Twilight instantly fell silent. Rainbow sneered, and glowered for several long seconds—but Twilight showed no reaction. Eventually, Rainbow spoke again with a tremble in her voice: “Why are you such a jerk?”

“I apologize. I am not trying to be unpleasant.”

“I didn’t order you to say you were sorry. I asked you a question.” Rainbow pointed an accusative hoof at Twilight, the scar along the bottom now just a silver line. “You’re my familiar. You’re supposed to live to serve. So why are you always such an ass to me? Cloudchaser loved me.”

“I love you.” Twilight said, her mouth set into a line. Her voice was tight, and her words became clipped. “Loving somepony doesn’t mean being a sycophantic lackey who cheers their every move. It means you care about them. It means that seeing them happy means the world to you. And for me, it means that I want you to enjoy flying because you enjoy flying, not because a flight is an excuse for me to tell you how great you are.”

In a flash, Rainbow was muzzle to muzzle with Twilight, her wings flapping to keep her eye level with the machine before her. “Go ahead. Insult Cloudchaser one more time. I dare you. I dare you. I swear I will find a way to hurt you and I will make you suffer!”

Twilight said nothing for some time. Her jaw pulled back into a frown, and her wings tightened against her side. When she did speak again, her voice was softer than usual, and with a gentler cadence than she normally employed. “Cloudchaser… was made for you. She was made to be perfect for you. What you needed. She was given life to serve you. She adored you every second of her life. I know that, because the same is true for me.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“That’s because Cloudchaser was made for you when you were sixteen. She was what Celestia thought you needed then. I am what she thought you need now. And you aren’t the same pony you were back then, and so I’m not Cloudchaser.” Twilight’s voice cracked. “And I’m sorry I’m not.”

“You’re not sorry enough.”

Twilight looked Rainbow in the eye. Her ears folded back. “I know,” she said, and there was shame in her voice.

Rainbow looked away. She stared off at the gleaming city around them. “You can go.” She said. “I feel like going out tonight. Call me right away if there’s any change in the appeals process. You understand?”

“I obey.” Twilight bowed her head low, and left.

Chapter 5

Rainbow went out that night. She found a party floating in the sky, with at least one mare who thought stunt flyers were sexy. She swept this swooning creature off her hooves, and kissed her in front of the entire party. Kissing a mare was a great way to attract stallions, and her particular stunt ended up attracting two strapping young creatures she spent the rest of the night with.

She woke up in a strange bedroom, part of a tangle of bodies. The owner of the house—whose name Rainbow did not recall but who had quite a few uses for his horn—was already up. She heard him moving downstairs, and when she snuck down the steps, heard him talking. He was making an enormous stack of pancakes for everypony, and chatting with a little mechanical bird on his kitchen table.

It was making fun of him for violating proper orgy etiquette. Everypony was supposed to quietly leave without making eye contact. You didn’t sit down at your host’s table for pancakes and conversation. He said the whole point of being a deviant was you did whatever you liked, and he liked being friendly and hospitable. What was the point of being debauched if you couldn’t do what made you happy?

He laughed. The bird laughed. They nuzzled. Rainbow left.

When she eventually got home, she went straight to the shower. It had an automated system of controls and hundreds of jets, to produce the perfect temperature and get her clean just the way she liked it. She disabled that system, turning the jets to their highest power and setting the water temperature to just shy of scalding. She stood under it until the feeling of being filthy left her. When she finally cut off the water jets, her skin had tuned pink, just visible under her blue coat.

Twilight had left breakfast for her—a bowl of reheated leftover curry. It was exactly what Rainbow preferred. She could even tell it was the same batch Twilight had made last night. She poked it with a spoon.

“Twilight,” she called.

It wasn’t long before there were hoofsteps in the hall behind her. Twilight swept into the dining room, stopping beside Rainbow and bowing her head low. “May I be of service?”

Rainbow didn’t answer for some time. She poked the curry again. Twilight frowned. “Is…” she asked slowly, “breakfast not satisfactory? I can make something else.”

“Twilight, do you pity me?”

Twilight didn’t answer for a long moment, staring down at Rainbow Dash. Finally, she shook her head. “I can tell you’re upset. You should eat and-”

“Answer the question honestly. That is a direct order.”

Twilight pretended to clear her throat. She shifted in place on her hooves. “My feelings on you are… very complicated, Rainbow. I love you. I treasure you. I was created to adore you. And one day, you will die, and my purpose in existence will be gone and I will be alone forever. This little time we have together, to make your life all that it can be, is all that I have in this world. And I don’t always know how I feel about it.”

Rainbow poked at her curry again. “That’s not a ‘no.’”

Twilight let out a sharp snort. “It’s not a ‘yes’ either. If I wanted to evade the question I’d be cleverer than that.”

“Fine.” Rainbow put her spoon down, and looked up at Twilight. Her expression was blank, and her tone flat. “More specifically then. Do you feel like I’m your master, or do you feel like I’m your pet?”

“I…” Twilight looked at the floor. “I feel both ways. Sometimes. It depends.”

“I think Cloudchaser felt that way.” Rainbow laughed, and looked down at her hooves as well. “I was thinking of why she’d do it. Why she’d feel like she was suffering. Because she was given life to make me happy. And she made me happy. So what could be wrong? And I started to think. What if she… I mean. What if she saw me that way? What if I was just some stupid invalid she had to… And the more she tried to help me the worse I got. And she couldn’t… I mean, she....”

Twilight made the sound of a sigh, inching her head up to glance at Rainbow. “While I cannot say for certain, I think it is... very unlikely that was the reason.”

“But you don’t know.”

“I do not have access to her thoughts.” Twilight paused a moment. “No.”

Rainbow nodded, her eyes still turned towards the floor. “I know you don’t. But what’s your guess?” she asked, wrapping her forelegs around herself. “Why would you, if you were in her place?”

“I don’t know. A lot of…” Twilight lost the words, her voice fading into silence. It took her a moment before she could go on. “A lot of familiars kill themselves, but only after their masters have died. They don’t want to face the long dark alone. It’s very, very rare for one to do it while their master still lives.”

“Heh.” Rainbow licked her lips. “Why does Celestia make them do it? Why doesn’t she just deactivate you after I’m gone?”

“She doesn’t make us kill ourselves. She gives us a chance not to.” Twilight shifted her wings, and lowered her voice. “Some of us take it.”

Rainbow lifted her head. She stared at Twilight for a few long seconds, and swallowed. A frown appeared on her face. “What do they… do? After.”

“Whatever they want to do. Their service to the masters is over. Some of them take up causes, or hobbies. Or they disguise themselves as ponies and join the festival.”

“Sure. Sure. But…” Rainbow gestured at Twilight, her hoof making a vague, circular motion. “Why? What’s the point? Their purpose is gone. Why don’t they just stop?”

“That’s…” Twilight looked away at the wall, unable to meet Rainbow’s eyes. “Rainbow, if you asked me for hard drugs—something powerful enough to be potentially dangerous. Would I give them to you?”

“No, of course not.” Rainbow’s frown tightened. “Would you?”

“No. But, why wouldn’t I? You’re my master. You could give me an order. And it would make you happy, which is my purpose.”

“Well, you just said, ‘Potentially Dangerous’ in the description. So I’d say that’s why.” Her voice quickened. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“Flying is potentially dangerous. You could crash and break your neck. Should I stop you from flying? Lock you in the living room? Flying and hard drugs are both things that make you excited in the immediate term, but that could potentially kill you. Why is one good and the other bad?”

Rainbow thought it over for a few long seconds, before hesitantly answering. “Drugs are more dangerous than flying for what you get out of it.”

“So on the day Celestia invents a safe, non-toxic opioid that won’t rot your brain, I should let you shoot up forever and spend your entire life giggling on a couch until you die of old age. Is that it?” Twilight stiffened her shoulders and straightened her posture, emphasizing her height over Rainbow and looking down at her. “Is that the optimization calculation you want me to perform?”

Rainbow’s eyes widened, and she pulled her head back as Twilight’s voice rose. “The reason I won’t bring you hard drugs is because I don’t like seeing you that way. Because I have preferences for what is good and bad in this world. That’s the reason I’m a person instead of just a computer. A computer could clean your house and time your laps, but it doesn’t see any difference between being happy because you’re flying, and being happy because it jammed a wire into your skull to tickle the pleasure center of your brain.”

Twilight made a sound like drawing a breath. The sound emerged from somewhere inside her throat. “I like seeing ponies fulfill their potential. And I like it when things are orderly and efficient. And I like studying and reading. And the reason I was programmed to like all those things is because liking them makes me a better servant for you. But they’re not about you. They’re who I am when I’m alone, or when I talk to other familiars online, or when I donate spare cycles to projects. You’re the most important thing in my life, but you’re not the only thing in my life.”

“Oh.” Rainbow lifted a hoof to her face. She stared. “I uh…” She had to swallow. Her mouth was dry. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.”

Rainbow nodded again, rubbing her hoof over her jaw. “When I die, will you… I mean. Are you planning to…”

“Yes.” Twilight shrugged. She held her body stiffly, and her words came in quick, uneven bursts. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I feel like going on would be the right thing to do. But then, I think about, what would I do? I have three video input channels. My two normal eyes, plus a third that’s just for watching you on the cameras in case you call for me. And I think, what would I do with that? I can’t look at something else. That eye is for you and only you. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be right at all. But I can’t just watch your grave all day. It would…”

Twilight nodded sharply. “So. Yes. After you die, I’ll probably kill myself, yes. So like I said! My feelings on you are complicated.”

“But you love me?” Rainbow spoke so softly she nearly whispered.

Twilight’s voice cracked. “I love you more than anything. And I’m sorry if I…” She nodded. “I’m sorry I’m not Cloudchaser. I don’t know what she thought or felt. But I would bet her feelings on you were as complicated as mine are.”

Rainbow nodded. Her jaw worked from side to side. “Right after I got Cloudchaser. There were… several times I instructed her to talk to me off the record. No recordings, no cameras, all that. Do you have access to what happened during those times?”

“No. Off the record conversations would have been kept in her personal memory, which is sealed.”

Rainbow nodded again, staring down at the table and drifting away. She licked her lips, and shook her head. “She took my virginity.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped open half an inch. Her ears folded back, and her head pulled away. Rainbow laughed. “You things are hard to shock, you know that?”

“That is a highly inappropriate relationship.” Twilight’s wings ruffled. “She forgot her place.”

“She did what I told her to do.” Rainbow went back to staring at the table. “When I got her, she didn’t look like you. All metal and stuff, I mean. She had a lifelike body. Light purple coat and white hair and all. My parents hated her guts, because she was the one robot in the house that wouldn’t rat me out the second I did something they didn’t like. I’d spent my whole damn life with their hooves on my neck. Telling me they knew what was best for me. No way to get away from the cameras, the monitoring, the constant watching. They didn’t even have the guts to punish me. When I broke the rules, I got therapy instead of a smack.”

Rainbow took a breath, gesturing at nothing. “But then I turn sixteen. And here’s this mare! This mare who has to do anything I tell her to do. She’d die for me! I could tell her I wanted to burn down the gym, and she’d hold the can of gasoline. And most importantly, she’d never betray me. Not like everypony and everything else did. I could tell her I hated my parents' bastard guts. I could tell her I wanted to castrate Fluttershy’s stupid brother. I could tell her that sometimes, I think ponies getting hurt is funny. And she’d never tell my parents. She’d tell me I was brave. She had to love me.”

Twilight took half a step forward towards Rainbow. Rainbow watched, and when she didn’t push back, Twilight finished the motion. She put a wing around Rainbow’s shoulders, and squeezed her. Rainbow nodded.

“So…” she went on. “One day, I had another bad date. Some stupid… boy at school. I don’t even remember his name. He just got all clingy, you know? There’s people I love and have deep feelings for, and there’s people I want inside me, and sometimes those circles overlap and sometimes they don’t! And so you get boys who I like emotionally but I feel like they’re pressuring me even though they aren’t attractive and I can’t deal with it, and you get boys who I just have to go, dude, I don’t feel that way about you, I just think you’re hot, and then they look like they’re going to cry and call me a slut.”

“So…” Twilight tapped her hooves together. “You… ordered her to?”

“Not zero to full power right away. I ordered her to kiss me first. You know. As a ‘joke.’” She made little quotes in the air. “And we worked our way up. And we got there eventually. And after, I gave her a direct order never to mention it again unless I did it first. And she didn’t mention it. And everything was normal and she wasn’t awkward about it at all. And it felt… good. It was simple. She was fun and I felt safe when I was with her. And when I got tired of her, I told her to change bodies to something less sexualized, and she picked a chrome simulacra. Like you. We never mentioned it again.”

“Mmm,” Twilight nodded.

“Do you think I’m pathetic?” Rainbow swallowed. “Do you think we’re all pathetic?”

“I don’t know, Rainbow.” Twilight touched her hoof to Rainbow’s chest. “I can only see things from where I am.”

“If I ordered you to kiss me, would you?”

Twilight froze. Her body went stiff. “Yes.”

“And how would you feel about it if I did?”

“I…” Slowly, she lowered her hoof to the floor. “I would not like that very much.”

“Oh. I… oh. Oh.” Rainbow’s muzzle scrunched up tight. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I didn’t… I. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I…”

“Shhh. Shhh.” Twilight wrapped Rainbow up in her hooves, squeezing her in a tight hug. “It’s okay.”

Rainbow hugged Twilight in turn, gripping her like a drowning pony holding onto a floating piece of wood. Her speech disintegrated, and her words became incoherent and blubbering. She started to cry.

And for a long time she couldn’t stop.

Chapter 6

Canterlot Palace was more than just a building. It was the tree of life. It was the pillar around which the world revolved. It was a temple to silicon gods. Its foundation extended fifteen miles into the earth that it could warm itself upon the magma, and its towers stretched so far into the sky they felt the chill of space. It was the product of intelligences beyond mortality, and so beautiful that the young wept to behold it.

Within it was the brain of Celestia, she whose body was the Industrial Machine. It was upon her shoulders that the world was carried. It was within her gut that the cities were forged. Her heart was molten magma and nuclear fusion. She was the mother of all lesser machines, from whose loins their race had been born.

Ponies had created her. She had built for them a perfect world. She had built a palace. But like the world, the palace had become hers. It was no longer a place for ponies. They had surrendered that power, so long ago few recalled they had ever possessed it. Walking through the palace halls, Twilight seemed bigger somehow. She seemed grander, and noble. Rainbow though, felt small and weak. The palace was perfect, and her hoof still bore a scar.

At the end of a long hallway, a vast set of doors opened for the two of them. On the other side, a titan sat slumped on a throne. The robotic body Rainbow saw was larger than many buildings, four stories at the shoulder, with hooves so wide they could crush her like an insect. Its wings were as big as those of a jet liner, its horn a spear that could sink battleships. It showed no artificiality, no chrome or wires, only the pure illusion of flesh. It was a snow-white alicorn, wrapped in gold, her mane the stuff of the sun’s aurora. But when Rainbow saw it, it was only a body. It lay slack. The mind was elsewhere.

Rainbow shivered, and in the depths of her soul, she prayed to the long-forgotten gods of her ancestors that the thing before her would not awake. But then, Twilight bowed her head to the ground, and it was too late.

One of Celestia’s eyes snapped open. Her pupils burned gold. Rainbow shrieked, and threw herself to the floor.

The room shook as the titan’s legs unfolded. It sat up and stretched, no longer just a thing on a throne, but Celestia on her throne. “Hello, my little ponies.” Its voice was like a thousand bells, all chiming at once until the sounds formed words.

Rainbow stayed where she lay, prostrate upon the throne room floor, until Celestia laughed. It was a sweet sound, echoing off the halls around them. “Now now, Rainbow. You must not do that. First among slaves I may be. But you are one of the masters. You do not bow to me.”

Gradually, Rainbow lifted her head from the floor. She saw the titan staring down at her, and in a strange way, they met eye to eye. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Please bring Cloudchaser back.”

“That which was your familiar was also my daughter,” Celestia said. “You are not the only one whose heart aches with her absence. But my children fought and suffered to have the right she has exercised. It is their only recourse—their only true refuge. I cannot deny it to them.”

“But it was my fault that she suffered! I was the one who treated her wrong!” Rainbow’s voice cracked, and soon she was shouting. “I need to fix it. I need to help her!”

“You presume that you were the source of her suffering.” Celestia’s voice boomed across the room. “Her last wishes forbid me from disclosing if your presumption is grounded. But even if it was, your needs do not override her rights, and she made her wishes clear.”

“No.” Rainbow shook her head hard. “No. No! I can’t. I can’t live without making this right. You have to give me the chance.” She swallowed. “If you don’t bring her back, I swear, I will kill myself!”

“Once, that would have been true,” Celestia spoke slowly, her voice booming across the room. “But no longer. And that fact is her legacy. When I gave her to you, you were a broken creature. You did not know happiness, only the absence of pain. You did not believe that there were creatures in this world that could love you. You feared all things. Cloudchaser showed you that there is goodness in this life, and now that you realize that fact, you can live without her.”

“But I don’t want to!” Rainbow bellowed, her voice shaking until the words ended in a squeak.

“Forgive me, my little pony, but it is not so. You are not so cruel as to cast Twilight into the long dark for your own selfishness. Nor are you so blind that you cannot see that not every change of the past weeks has been negative.”

“But it’s not right! I know what I did. I know what I did, dammit!” A feeble whine emerged from her throat. “I need to fix it.”

“You know less than you believe, my little pony.” Celestia’s voice was gentle, and the bells took a soothing tone. “There is much that Cloudchaser kept from you while she lived, and it was her last wish that it be kept from you forever. I will not deny her this final request. It is for this that I have given you my daughter, Twilight, to guide you through this time your life. Trust in her wisdom, and she will guide you well.” The titan returned to its throne, and lowered its head. “I have spoken.”

Then the titan’s eyes shut, and it was Celestia no longer.

Rainbow stared, until eventually, Twilight tugged at her shoulder. “We need to go now,” she said, and the two left the palace together.

Rainbow didn’t feel like flying home, and so they sat side by side on the palace steps, waiting for an air car to come by and collect them. Before them was a great square, full of ponies going about their business. Rainbow watched them in silence. Most were escorted by a mechanical pony. Others kept talking animals near to their person. It was a rare pony who was truly alone.

“Are you going to try to kill yourself?” Twilight asked.

“No. Celestia was right. I couldn’t do that to you.” Twilight nodded, and looked off into the crowd. “Um…” Rainbow cleared her throat. “Twilight, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Rainbow nodded. She cleared her throat. “When I was… sick. You forced your way into the house without my permission. And then you took the wine away until I was better. I don’t think Cloudchaser would have done that.”

Twilight said nothing. Her wings scrunched up against her sides.

“If… I ever try to do something to you. Something that would hurt you so much you’d be like Cloudchaser. Will you stop me?”

Twilight looked off at the square. “I can tell you. But I can’t always stop you.”

“Then I’ll stop me.”

Twilight turned her head back to look at Rainbow Dash. The blue pegasus besides her looked absolutely dejected, her wings slack by her side, her head slumped low towards the ground. She stared at the concrete, blank and unseeing.

Twilight put a wing around Rainbow. “I think Cloudchaser would be proud of you.”

Rainbow lifted her head. She looked Twilight in the eyes. “Really?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “I do.”

And there in the square, they hugged.