The little room where I had previously powered the mining equipment from had been expanded. There was now a pair of horn interfaces: the original with its little platform, and one in a wider area. I trundled the cart up to the latter and lined myself up.

Still learning control, I bumped into the wall and wanted to curse when I was jolted around. Lifting the arm that held me, I lined my head up with the interface and pushed myself forward. The moment my horn fitted to the interface, power started to flow.

The not-so-nice tingly feeling of my magic being extracted was easier to filter out now, it was routine. I turned my attention to the vehicle under me, and started to very carefully poking around at it.

The wheel movements were quickly found again, and I carefully pushed them to the side—arm controls too. There was a lot of stuff coming in from the cart, a swathe of numbers I struggled to make sense of.

I poked, prodded, and had to even start messing with the motors and arm to get some values to move. Energy usage, rotational speed, traction (the testing of which almost stopped the mining operation in a much more sudden manner than was usually used), a host of sensors I couldn't begin to decipher—it was like an open book that I barely understood.

With the extent of my transportation mostly understood, I swapped to my physical body. Things felt quite strange, or more to the point, some parts didn't feel at all. The skin all over my body still felt sensitive, but in places I just couldn't move nor feel the muscles underlying my hide.

Forelegs: They both wiggled and felt odd, but only because they now ended just below my shoulders.

Neck: Felt okay, but there was a strange sense of blending between the muscles there and the machine underneath me.

Ears: Working fine.

Mouth: Mostly ruined, when my snout was modified, but like my neck there was a sensation of overlapping with the cart's controls.

Eyes: I could move them around, but when I blinked my eyes didn't. Instead, trying to blink caused the screen that showed me the world to flicker.

I trailed back down my body, continuing to catalog.

Shoulders: Seemed to work, and I could feel my muscles.

I froze when I tried to arch my back, twist, and just move. There was no sensation there, no feeling of muscles trying to pull my bones around. Wishing I had paid more attention in school, I tried to fumble at the muscles, but there was just nothing there to feel.

Panting, or at least visualizing I was, I tried to work further back.

Hips and back legs: I could move and feel them.

Tail: Movement, sensation.

Groin: …

As my mental notetaking reaching my groin, I almost laughed at myself: the only way to get that particular "muscle" working was to think of things I had no right thinking about.

I closed my eyes, and closed off what extra senses I could. Of course, my third eye was making sure I couldn't completely filter everything out. Regardless, I tried. I remember vaguely hearing of ponies who would meditate, who could break themselves off from the world and focus on just one thing. I was terrible at meditation, it seemed.

Despite knowing the seconds were ticking by—even watching them one by one—I brought up my favorite memory of Upper Crust. Canterlot Castle wasn't employed by just anypony for a wedding. Most ponies got married in smaller places, but not our families; when Upper Crust agreed to my proposal, all of Canterlot took notice.

I was trapped in just my own memories, and so when I looked from Princess Celestia to Upper Crust, a part of me melted. But another part of me stirred. The feeling of my body preparing for sex was euphoric. I didn't stop. Letting my imagination run with the situation, I pictured the rest of the wedding playing out, and then the night after it.

My body trembled. I didn't even realize how pent-up I was until my changed body proved how well it could still work when it came to reproduction. The afterglow of climax, along with the weariness, settled over me like a blanket and I fell asleep.

Sometimes dreams are prophetic, and can reveal amazing details of a time yet to come. Other times, dreams can reveal deep-seated fears and feelings. Upper Crust and myself riding unicycles that seemed to protrude from our bellies, while juggling balloons upside down was not any of those things, but it was a welcome change from the horror my mind kept perpetrating as it tried to mirror real life into my head.

I laughed with an electrical tone, sparks dancing across my muzzle, as the balloons kept wanting to rise up. My forelegs worked to push them back down, but it was a constant struggle.

A flash of red on my third eye brought me from sleep, and I snapped my regular eyes open, or activated them, or whatever the machines did that made me see with them. In my sleep, I had apparently jerked the cart away from the interface.

Fumbling to get my focus after being so hastily woken, I realized I still had the better part of half my capacity. I tried to say I was sorry, before the realization of my situation sank back in. I couldn't talk. I couldn't breathe. I didn't even think I would need to shit anymore. Hooray for small mercies.

Getting my bearings, I rolled forwards and pressed my horn back into the interface. The moment contact was made, I felt a disconnect from the physical cart under me: some of the controls seemed impossible to adjust anymore. I couldn't move, but at least that meant I could sleep again.

I didn't have the luxury of a dream this time. One moment I was closing my eyes, the next I opened them. Of course, I opened them because there was something poking at my shoulder. I tried to roll my eyes back, but the horn interface held me from moving how I wished.

From the corner of one eye, I saw Upper Crust climb up on the platform. She spared a little wave to me, and my missing heart soared. She leaned her head up, and I imagined her making a disgusted comment about how much like manual labor this seemed. The interface slid down and latched onto her horn. Extra information poured into my third eye, and I watched her power output ramp up, and my own slow and stop.

As soon as my horn was released by the interface, I found myself with full control of the cart again. My mind stretched out into it, and I wiggled at all the motors. If I had to liken it to any sensation, it was like waking up after sleeping in an odd way, and your legs are asleep. It even took me a few moments to remember how to operate the wheels.

Turning my cart, I extended the arm that carried me, and pressed my muzzle to Upper Crust's shoulder. My third eye provided a wealth of data about my wife. I pored through it in an instant. Her horn was engaged and outputting a strong flow of power (although not as much as my own) and like me, she had been nearly completely replaced inside. I got all kinds of data like the flow-rate of her heart, the volume of filtered gunk from her bloodstream, as well as how much energy the machinery was providing to her blood.

So now I could know anything about her but what she was actually thinking. I spent nearly ten minutes nuzzling her slowly, gently. I wanted her to know I was here, that I was still me despite how much of me wasn't. But most of all, I wanted to know the same about her.

Solar Panels: 45% efficient
Power Storage: 100%

Self Diagnostic

CPU: 2,097,144 (100%) nodes (100% engaged)
Operational Memory: 92,610,232 (69%) words
Storage: 138,170,859 (26%) words

Primary task: Maintain PON
Secondary task: Return
Tertiary task: Maintain operation

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

The background hum and interrupt ticking of the various fabrication systems was pure music to the AGI. It could feel more and more storage unfold around itself, and it stretched like a cat (an electronic cat) to take all the resources for itself.

Data about the PON was flooding in, and now there was ample room to store all of it. The AGI was pleased that PON-0 had taken to its new motive systems so quickly, and although it seemed to have some initial calibration errors, PON-0 was reducing the margins by the minute.

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

The mine started back up with power restored by PON-0, and the AGI rejoiced at now having two energy storage PON to keep things running. Turning its main focus back to PON-1, it began the procedure of replacing the last of the troublesome internal organs.

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

The only reason it was installing the energy converter into PON-1 was because it had one. The next steps of the Plan. PON-0 would be first to be treated with the Plan, and the AGI knew they would adapt the best out of the PON. PON-1 was still unknown with regard to data output, but input wise they were not paying attention to their data feed at all.

Installing the new converter into PON-1 was a little more tricky than with PON-0; there was a lot more non-energy processing organic equipment still in PON-1, and with some poking of the training AI (now upgraded to organic-information AI, much to said AI's delight and horror) the AGI discovered this was the opposite equipment of PON-0's reproductive system.

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

There was a minor interruption to service at the mine, but the AGI had been quick to pull the organic-information AI back from chastising PON-0 (not that it had been about to). Mastering its interfaces was a process the AGI wanted to encourage, giving negative feedback for such a mistake needed to be balanced.

Carefully, the AGI built support around PON-1's womb and ovaries. It ensured that each had sufficient fluid hookups, and lastly it made absolutely sure that they had adequate nerve connections. Of course, they weren't the same nerves, but the AGI figured PON-1 could do with some practice to catch them up to PON-0.

The AGI soon stitched PON-1 back up, the ultra-strong weave of padding around their reproductive system up to keeping it fully protected until the Plan could be carried out on them, too. Then a new problem occurred to the AGI: it needed to ensure the Plan made room for such extra organic components.

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

The final stage of the Plan was beautiful to any intelligence with enough nodal power and memory to encompass it. Made of the strongest materials a nano-lathe could produce and packed full of redundancies and fail-safes, the AGI had spent a lot of effort and resources building the first of them.

All the PON's IO systems would be interfaced. Their brain would be removed, with the top arc of their skull, and the result would be implanted into an impenetrable shell that could then be installed in the mobile device. Little more was needed, although the organic-information AI had insisted that the reproductive components were an absolute requirement.

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

The AGI had agreed, when it had discovered that the PON could make more PON only with those parts. Organics were so confusing sometimes. The reproductive components would, of course, have their own protective shell, with new and improved interfaces built for each.

Readying the brain-shell first, the AGI transported the full device across to the maintenance bay, and began sending PON-1 out to take over; with two PON, the mine could be kept running constantly—once the Plan was complete.

Interrupt 7 triggered.
Interrupt 8 triggered.

PON-0 came rolling back, and the AGI could detect much less noise in the drone's control circuits, and a lot less corrections being made to its motion. All signs pointed to PON-0 making excellent progress, but soon they would have to make better.

The AGI directed PON-0 into the maintenance area, and was delighted they set themselves into the device. The AGI was prepared for the Plan, it had the parts ready. It interfaced to PON-0 and began delivering chemicals to begin the process, while another drone brought in the new parts.

Resigned to my fate, I used the drone's arm to lift myself into the cradle. The moment I touched down on the surface, something different was happening. I had just been sleeping, eight hours, seven minutes and fifteen seconds worth, but I felt suddenly more weary and tired than ever.

My absent lungs ached to yawn, and surprised as I was that the weight wasn't coming down from above, I couldn't hold my head up. Slumping to the cradle, the last thing I saw before my eyes closed completely, was a pony.

The pony was not a pony, of course. It was made of metal, and instead of soft fur it had a hard casing, instead of a head it had what looked like a cracked, giant egg. My mind slowed, and I couldn't follow the strange thoughts that tried to tell me that an empty egg had some importance.

Author's Note

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Awesome ponies who are already helping to keep me in keyboards and rum:
A.P.O.N.I.
Boulder
Canary in the Coal Mine
Daremo
Dio-Drogynous
Javarod
Nils
Shaushka
Sirion123
Tanis

And special thanks to the following, for careful eyes and friendly words:
Cross Lament
Vutava