Fallout Equestria: Clockwork Precision

When Gearing looks at the computer screen sitting on the desk of the testing range, he sees there’s already a series of entries on display. As if they were intentionally left in the open for whoever came after to find. The one that’s currently selected, and apparently last in the list, is titled ‘Celestia Have Mercy’. Above that are several other entries. And, wanting to try and get a more informed picture, he starts scrolling up through the entries that are on the screen. And it doesn’t take long for him to hit the area where he’s pretty sure these personal logs had started. His first clue was that the entries went from having casual headings about various topics, to having a blatant company format for the header. And the second clue, was the first entry that broke away from the header formatting, with its subject title set as ‘FUCKING COWARDS!’ which is far from professional language. At least that’s what ponies kept telling him when he’d get colorful with his language.

The listed dates are also a painfully obvious clue as well.

But instead of just reading the first one that’s different, Gearing decided to read the last one in the chain of organized messages to confirm his suspicions of what the rest of them are most likely about.

IF-88-M Experimental Test
Date: October 22

Synopsis: While the IF-88-M multirole shotgun has come a long way, it is still suffering from a few problems. Testing today confirmed it is still having a hangup issue with the belt feeding ammo and getting jammed. Unsure if the problem is the belt, or if there is a glitch in the software for the interface with the Stable-Tec OS to control which ammo is selected and when. Rest of weapon is functional, but the ammo sorter and belt feeder problems need to be fixed before moving to the next stage. -AH

Detailed: The IF-88-M is a lovely weapon. It’s the next logical progression from the original IF-88 that was given to and used by the hero Big Macintosh, may he rest in peace. The project goals were simply to ‘Make it deadlier, faster, and tougher’ to quote our mandate. To that end, we have taken the direction of making it more versatile. We have altered the original combat shotgun’s schematics to accept multiple ammo feed options. With an incorporation of a module that can interface with a Stable-Tec OS compatible equipment, like a PipBuck, it can piggy back from the signals and use the sorting enchantment to pull out various ammo as needed, when needed, without having to manually change out the detachable magazines. Previous problems have been solved with the design that had made it prone to overheating, cracking, or exploding when used. We’ve fine tuned the machining, found a combination of magical enforcement and alloy selection that is up to specs, and now have a working prototype. However, the issue with the feeding mechanism still plagues us. We’re currently waiting to hear back from Stable-Tec about getting help debugging the software that controls the ammo feed, and then we can make sure there’s nothing mechanically wrong with the belt feeder as well. Although I’m reasonably sure there’s nothing physically wrong with it. Our contact at Stable-Tec informed me just this morning that they are passing the control code around the office, trying to find someone who can find the problem, and the mare in question had lamented that the best coder she knows is currently on sabbatical, and she doesn’t know when he’ll be back. So we may be at a stand still until somepony finds a solution to this. But, even so, I feel I would be negligent if I did not reiterate: the weapon is fully reliable and lethal, even without the ammo sorter.

-Amber Harvest

Gearing stares at the report as he taps on his chin. “Well, it’s good to know that the weapon has been thoroughly tested and is mostly functional. I’ll have to go over the rest of it and see if I can find a solution when I’m back at the stable. But until then I can at least use the drum mags to have enough ammo. Going by the statistics sheets, the alloy should be able to handle a few full drums without any problem. Which, if there’s any fights that last longer than multiple full drums, I think we’ll be having more to worry about than weapon maintenance at that point…”

‘At that point, if dumping that much ammo won’t do it, it’s time to deploy something more widespread,’ the little pegasus in Gearing’s head comments. He reaches into the cloud in the mindspace under himself, and pulls up a large green hunk of metal with a long barrel. He slams it down onto the cloud, hops into the artillery’s gunner seat, and starts looking through a rangefinder for targets. ‘Like something that can just delete an entire direction, and change topographical maps…’

“There’s a right tool for every job, and no one-size-fits-all solutions,” Gearing comments quietly as he selects the first entry that breaks the organizational standard naming convention.

FUCKING COWARDS!

Date: October 23

Synopsis: Security is traitorous cunts that need to be shot on sight! See attached video! -AH

Detailed: I’m writing this log for future prosecution evidence. When the current emergency is over, the head of security for this Research and Development building, a bastard named Clay Road, needs to be hunted down, arrested, and dragged into jail. Or just throw him under it! His crimes are many, and have directly resulted in the deaths of many innocents. Then there is the dereliction of duty, abandoning his post, wanton disregard for pony life, and his willful refusal to control the security system which directly resulted in the deaths of many employees of Ironshod. And the video will also show evidence of the massive theft, and espionage he committed before he fled the building. I’m not sure what emergency triggered this lock down and security blitz, but once it has been controlled I plan to turn this information over. If I too fall victim to Clay’s treachery, I hope this record will help shed light on his failings not only as a security chief tasked with protecting others, but a complete and utter failure as a pony. I am so angry right now, that I could probably go on for hours. But I hope by time this is read, cooler heads can prevail, as the video itself is rather damning.

-Amber Harvest [The pissed off mare that probably castrated Clay Road with a big bullet]

Gearing smirks as he moves to play the attached security surveillance video recording as he says, “Well, hey, don’t hold back Amber, tell me what you really think.”

On the screen a video plays, already apparently in the middle of an argument as if they started recording it as an afterthought. The angle of the view shows the camera is somewhere up near the ceiling and probably in the corner of the room as it looks at some thick door that has a red ‘EXIT’ sign right above it. There are five ponies near the door tending to a variety of bags and sacks as they are loading themselves up. One mare unicorn seems like an office worker of some kind, as she is wearing a business casual suit. The other four ponies are wearing Security uniform barding, with one of those actually wearing a set of security armor with it. The one with the actually armored barding is an earth pony with a rather heinous scar starting at his left ear, and running down his face and muzzle until it comes down his mouth and makes it look like he had a cleft upper lip.

On the recording, a mare’s voice yells over a speaker from somewhere in the room, “Clay! You can’t just leave yet, we’re stuck up on the fourth floor!”

The buck with the face scar sighs and turns to look at the camera. “There ain’t nothing I can do for you.”

“How about doing your JOB and telling the robots to stop killing everypony instead of just trying to run off with the whole armory!” the mare’s voice retorts.

The buck narrows his eyes as he says, “You can blame the damn managers over this, Amber. They didn’t listen to that nerdy buck about setting up the system to be easier to control.” He shrugs. “I can’t. The only thing I was able to do was designate the security personnel as friendlies. That’s it.”

“Clay!” The mare’s voice yells in despair. “You can’t leave us to die!”

“Amber,” the buck says gruffly. “I’m not leaving you to die. I’m leaving so we can live. Or at least have a chance. I can’t fight this whole building’s worth of security drones. Don’t have the resources or the hooves to do it. And damn sure don’t have the time.”

“You don’t have the time to go back to your station and turn everything off?!” Amber’s voice comes over the speakers incredulously.

“I don’t have the ability to. I don’t know how to. Otherwise I’d do exactly like I’ve already told you, and just wait here for the military to come and sort things out when they can.” He waves a hoof towards the door. “Copper probably could have figured the system out, but that buck’s smart. At the first sign of trouble him and Seedy hightailed it out of here. So there’s no one left to even try to get this shit under control.”

“Clay, come on, at least come and get us and let us go with you. We can carry more, right? And my team can work on and improve weapons. You’ll need us for all of that gear you got.” Amber’s voice comes out with such desperation that it’s painful to hear.

Clay walks around and sorts through who is carrying what, and decides to just throw a few things off to the side that apparently he decides they don’t need or isn’t worth the pack weight. But he says nothing in response.

“Clay?” Amber’s voice asks flatly.

Clay keeps working on things and seems to verify that they are done before moving over towards the door.

“Clay! Answer me dammit!” Amber yells a bit shrilly.

“There’s nothing more to talk about, Amber,” Clay says coldly.

“What are we supposed to do trapped up here?!” Amber’s panic comes out clearly in the recording.

“Already told you,” Clay responds coldly. “Hunker down. Do what you can. And wait for the military to come to secure the building. They’ll be able to rescue you. Right now I have some place else I need to be.” He motions towards the exit door and the others line up and as he’s pushing the door open, an alarm sounds in the apparent back storage area.

The group starts filing out, with the one office mare looking up and back, right at the camera, with an apologetic frown, before heading out the door too.

“Clay! You’ll hang for this! You hear me, Clay!? You bastard!” Amber’s voice screeches out as it starts cracking and transitions to sobs of despair.

When the door slams closed, and the light from the outside is no longer coming in through the door, Amber’s voice comes out again, “You’re killing us, Clay…” A few moments later after the sobs are still continuing, the recording suddenly cuts out.

‘That’s fucked up,’ the little pegasus in Gearing’s head comments.

“A completely preventable disaster,” Gearing agrees with his mental companion.

‘There is a bit of good news from this, though,’ the little blue pegasus comments. ‘For us at least.’

“Yeah,” Gearing mutters. “Means we might be able to figure out what’s wrong with the system, and then fix it for our own advantage.”

Gearing goes on to the next message in the line.

Answers

Date: October 23

Synopsis: We’ve discovered the truth. It’s all over. -AH

Detailed: We weren’t sure what was going on when everything went tits up earlier today. In hindsight the first signs of trouble were when some of those that were part of the Stable-Tec Stable program got the page to report to their respective stables. They’d ran out in quick order taking little to nothing with them. Rumors started flying rapidly before even half of those running ponies made it out of the building. The rumor mill was right. However Stable-Tec knew, they knew. Our resources for information are extremely limited, but some of the network is still up. What we had all feared has come to pass. This morning around 9 am, the beginning of the end started. We don’t know who fired the first of the final shots, but the Zebras had deployed their arsenal of balefire missiles. And Equestria deployed our megaspells. There is widespread destruction and we can tell in some areas there’s already signs of radioactive tainted snow. From what we can gather the Zebras hit every major metropolitan area. And Cloudsdale was also obliterated off the map right out of the sky. The emergency broadcast system is a mess. In some ways, we are lucky to have been here when the war started. The building had been fortified pretty well against the zebra warmachine, so it’s still standing. Our main concern is supplies, and the out of control security system. We have plenty of water, thankfully. The electric grid is still up it seems, and we have access to a water system that will provide us with all the water we need as long as it has the power for the water talisman’s to work. Even have plans to start bottling water as containers are made available just in case. Food is a concern though. A major concern. There is so little in this building, we don’t have any stockpiles for emergencies, this isn’t that kind of building. But I believe with the few individuals that have remained inside, with everyone else either fleeing or already being killed by the ponicidal robots, that what is inside of the various vending machines and break rooms should allow us to hold out long enough for the military to come and rescue us from this strange prison.

-Amber Harvest

“Well I don’t see that ending well,” Gearing comments evenly.

‘What was your first clue? The overreliance on the unknown, wishful thinking, and hope? Or the corpses at our hooves?’ the little pegasus in his head asks snarkily.

Supplies

Date: October 24

Synopsis: Consolidating supplies. -AH

Detailed: Those of us that are still alive up here have started consolidating everything into the experimental testing range. We’re actually living in the range area. It’s the only place that the robots don’t regularly patrol. Being researches we’ve gathered information on the patrol patterns and now know when we can be where. And the only two places really safe are beyond the door for the locker room and showers, and here in the experimental range. The robots don’t seem to even pay attention to us as long as we’re inside of the armory security cage. But we don’t want to tempt fate. I’ve attached a file with the pathing timing for future reference. Beyond that we’ve had to sneak around. But even doing that is dangerous because we never know when a hidden turret will pop out and start shooting at us. Have had discussions of trying to make it to the security room to try and hack the system, but just getting there is a problem. We’ve already seen several ash piles where some poor pony lost their life to our security system. A few bullets we might be able to heal from with a good potion. But there’s nothing a potion can do when you’re reduced to sparkling ash.

Using the pathing information we’re going to stalk around the office and work areas, and bring everything back here. We even have plans to break into the vending machines and raid everypony’s work desks to take whatever snacks that I know most up here have been hoarding. Have Ironshod take it out of my pay if anyone cares that much about it.

Point of interest: Whatever sadistic bastard thought it was a good idea to give the robots access to land mines and have them deploy them as part of their security response, needs to be gutted alive and tied sprawled out over a wagon for the crows to feast on. We’ve managed to disable a couple of them, but we’ve already come across evidence of some of our coworkers who lost their lives to them yesterday. What a mess. Pieces of pony everywhere.

-Amber Harvest

Gearing frowns as he nods and downloads the attached file. “At least they started planning and acting soon. Deploying land mines inside is a rather dumb move. How are first responders supposed to clear a building and help rescue those inside, let alone secure the building again?” He quickly checks the file he downloaded before opening the next entry. “Thanks from the future, this’ll help…”

Idle Hooves are the Tools of Roam

Date: October 28

Synopsis: Staying busy -AH

Detailed: It’s been nearly a week, and we still haven’t heard anything more. The emergency broadcast system is just on repeat, so it’s useless to us at the moment. I’ve started working on a couple of our projects just to keep my mind off of everything and TRY to keep sane. A couple others aren’t doing much more than staying huddled up in shell shock. I think we’re all going to need some serious therapy after this is over. We’re researchers, not soldiers. We may be researching and developing weapons, but none of us expected to have to walk through rooms covered in exploded pieces of what used to be our former coworkers. Personally I’m switching back and forth between the newest iteration of the IF-88, and my pet project that’s been affectionately dubbed ‘That Gun’. I’ve made so many changes to it that it’s a monster amalgamation, but she’s still my brain child. I doubt she’ll ever be seen as viable for full production, but she has a lot of potential.

Others have their own methods of trying to cope with things. A few others are likewise trying to keep themselves busy. But then there’s also those two mares. I know I shouldn’t gossip, but I’ve always thought they’d make a cute couple. Pretty Dreamer and Honeycomb Cookie have just had so much chemistry that a few of us were watching with interest and just wondering when they’d get sick of the pretense and just start making out in the hallways. Always expected, and halfway hoped, to open the supply closest and see those two all over each other. But, company policy forbade fraternization between coworkers, so I can see why they didn’t. They didn’t want to risk their job. But after what’s happened, who could blame them for trying to find some comfort? They aren’t hurting anypony. It started off with Pretty Dreamer sitting against the wall nearly catatonic, and Cookie checking on her and offering a shoulder to cry on. And it’s quickly gotten to the point that the two of them are inseparable. They’re adorable together.

I was right, they are a cute couple.

-Amber Harvest

Gearing lets out a sigh. “Trying to find normalcy is important. I hope they didn’t get too lost waiting on that instead of dealing with immediate problems”

Horrible Silence

Date: November 5

Synopsis: Still Nothing -AH

Detailed: It has been two weeks since the world has ended. From the few windows we can actually see out of, it looks horrible out there. Constantly getting worse. Not just the fires and the destruction, but apparently the Pegasi have fired up the cloud machines to full blast and the sun isn’t even getting through much anymore. And plants and animals are dying in mass out there because of the dust and radiation. We haven’t been able to get anything out there to measure it, but we’re pretty sure given what’s happened and what we can see from here.

There’s been no sign nor word from the military. The explosions had stopped long ago, so the war is truly over at this point. I don’t know how much is left of the world. I’m sure the military, or whatever is left of it, has better and more important places to secure and help. Hospitals. Schools. Those sorts of places. I know a research building for weapons isn’t the highest of priorities in the grand scheme of things for a war that’s already over, but I hope they get here sooner than later. We’ve already started rationing what little food we’ve managed to accumulate.

I know the Pegasi are right out. While scanning through frequencies we intercepted a broadcast telling all the Pegasi to go above cloud level and fuck us. So, yeah, fuck all those winged bastards too. They can all rot in hell right along with Clay Road.

-Amber Harvest

Gearing groans as he opens the next file.

The little pegasus in Gearing’s head folds his forelegs across his chest and snorts, ‘Well fuck you too, lady…’

That Gun Got an Upgrade

Date: November 6

Synopsis: Bored. Worked on my own gun. Sue me. -AH

Detailed: So little to do in here I tinkered with my girl ‘That Gun’ some more. Sunbeam Forest keeps joking about ‘Leave it to Amber to make a Chimera out of a firearm.’ Which, to be fair, he has a point. I keep taking things I learn, or think of, while making other weapons, and upgrade my own weapon. It’s changed so much from its original build that it’s only the same weapon in name and by philosophy. Started out as a 5.56 long barreled break action revolver. Now it’s a 12.7mm revolver with a cylinder that can either be flipped out to reload, replace the cylinder with a fully loaded one, or use a speed loader after ejecting the empty cartridges. My girl’s got that kind of versatility. And she hits like a freight train for a revolver now. I’m proud of my baby. I gave her another upgrade today. Now she has a module that can track the weapon’s condition. Green light means fully loaded and good to go. Yellow means empty. Red means there has been a malfunction and a jam needs to be cleared. Hardest part of all was testing to make sure the red light would come on, because she’s my baby so she doesn’t malfunction easily. I had to keep dumping sand and salt and mistreating her before she’d jam the first time and trigger the module to glow red. I instantly apologized to her and gave her a spa day with plenty of brush massages and high grade gun oil.

I’d spent a long time trying to figure out what to call her. So didn’t have a name for her. So just kept referring to her as “That Gun” and so did everypony else. Started off as a joke, really, but now I’m sure I’ll just keep it that way. Out of everything connected to this gun, the only thing that has remained constant is its name being “That Gun” and with the world apparently ending, I think I’ll hold onto that bit of stability.

So “That Gun” it is.

-Amber Harvest

“‘That Gun’, huh? Sounds fun. I wonder where it is…” Gearing mutters as he moves on to the next entry.

‘100 bits says it's the one laying next to that mare, the one with the blocky barrel,’ the little pegasus comments as he points a hoof off to the side where there’s a lone unicorn skeleton with a pistol of some kind next to it.

Consolidation complete

Date: November 7

Synopsis: If it’s edible, we’ve taken it. -AH

Detailed: Using the patrol map we created we have looted every single thing we can get to that’s edible. We can’t leave this zone of the 4th floor. We could get out of that huge door. It’s still working and so is its security. But we have nowhere to fall back to and there’s nowhere to hide and watch out for patrols. We’ve risked a few times, and we can hear the number of bots that are in the rest of the area and even in lower levels. But we are stuck between the bots and the turrets. We’ve completely emptied out the break room. Snacks. Crackers. Salad Dressing. Creamer. Sugar. Even every single grain of salt. We’re mixing the salt into bottles of water to make it a bit more palatable, but we know we have to keep our electrolytes up. We’re already starting to ration food. Even the concept of a full stomach is starting to fade from memory and it’s only been a little over two weeks before everything went to hell. The vending machines became the receptacles of our pent up frustrations. I even took a welding torch to break into one. Was it necessary? No. Were there other ways to do it? Sure. Couldn’t I have just used the Bits we have to buy things? Of course. But did I enjoy melting that motherfucker while fantasizing about doing the same thing to Clay Road’s crotch? Absofuckinglutely.

We even took down a few of the more annoying robots that made scavenging harder. Sorry, not sorry. I’ll do it again!

Also sort of regretting complaining so much about the rodent problem we had in the building. As gross as this sounds, I bet one would taste pretty good right about now. Just use the torch and roast it? Use the milling machine to rotate it? Damn, that’s an idea. I’ll set out some traps and hope to get something.

Don’t judge me, fucker.

-Amber Harvest [Hungry mare is Hungry.]

Gearing shakes his head. “Well that explains why I didn’t find so much as a gumstick. Poor ponies…”

Leaving?

Date: November 11

Synopsis: First discussion about leaving -AH

Detailed: Today we had a sit down with all eight of us and had our first real talk about breaking out of this zone, and maybe even the building. There were a lot of ideas thrown around. It was civil, mostly. Probably about as civil as could be considering how Hangry we all are. At this point we’re not even sure IF the military will ever be coming. Or even if they exist anymore. It’s been nearly three weeks, and nothing new has come up. Even if they are, we’re going to have to come up with something else to keep us alive long enough to hold out for them to arrive and save us. We even had serious talks about starting up some kind of hydroponics system to start making food. In theory, it’s not a bad idea. Moonlight Melody and Peppermint Almond were both in the botany club while in university. Peppermint even has a minor in botany and was a member of Filly Farmers as a kid. So we have the knowledge base, at least enough to get us going and work our way through it. The problem is that we're a research and development company for WEAPONS, and there’s very little that will translate over. Sure, we have the equipment to make damn near anything we want. But what we’d need is the nutrients to feed the plants and seeds to grow. And we have neither. Not even the kernels at the bottom of the popcorn box would work, since they’ve all been cooked and wouldn’t be viable. And the fruit pits from the fruits we’d eaten wouldn’t work, because trees take years to produce and we’d be dead by then. So of all of the resources at our disposal, of this whole fucking company, we don’t have the few things we actually need.

Cinnamon Sparks brought up the possibility of leaving. This time we seriously debated on it and didn’t actually outright dismiss it. The same problems are here today that were before. The security system isn’t going to just let us leave, let alone come back. We know we’re relatively safe in here, with the shielding and such to block the radiation. Outside is another problem. And there’s not enough rad away nor any of those little tablets to hamper radiation absorption in the first place. Only a token amount at best. We even pulled up diagrams and drew out various routes that we could take. Ironically, the path to the exit that bastard Clay took when he fled like the little bitch that he is, is not even close to being the best choice for us. There’s more exits closer. And that’s not including if we manage to make an exit somewhere. But the bots are going to be a problem. And because we don’t have a solution for them at the moment, we’re going to have to table this. Sparks isn’t happy about it, but that’s the group decision currently. He said he’ll figure something out and we’ll revisit it once there’s a solution for the current problem.

Now that I write that out, it makes me feel like the IF-88 again… meetings and constant problems that have to get kicked down the road because the problem can’t be solved currently.

Made some traps, various traps, none of them have caught anything, I think the extermination company did too good of a job, dammit…

-Amber Harvest [If you’re hungry and you know it stomp your hooves. STOMP! STOMP!]

‘If this was a pharmaceutical or agro company they could have probably stayed here indefinitely,’ the little pegasus comments softly as Gearing continues down the list.

Poor Harvest

Date: November 13

Synopsis: Endless arguments -AH

Detailed: Problem: Food. Solution: Food. The discussion that started two days ago, basically never really ended. But it morphed into arguments. Don’t get me wrong, Sparks has a point about our food supply. I mean, we don’t need the damn reminder. Every single one of us have advanced degrees, we can do the basic math to show that we don’t have enough food to last much longer let alone forever. It’s been three weeks and what little we accumulated is dwindling quickly. Sparks keeps advocating for more and more ludicrous plans. Wants us to take over the whole building and search for food on the other floors, and even leave to scavenge local buildings. Maybe even hit up that Megamart for food. But we can’t fight all of this security. Yes, we have a lot of weapons, but the vast majority of them are unreliable and experimental. And then there’s the problem with not having enough armor. As in no armor. I mean one of us could put on that Legionary armored dress we have in the shooting range, but it’s so full of holes it wouldn’t help much. And the faux power armor is nothing more than plates, few of us would be able to move at ALL if we put that one on. So, yeah, we’re armed to the teeth. Got enough firepower to take down an elder dragon. Easy. But we can’t take a hit. We’re glass cannons here.

I don’t know what he expects of us. I think he’s just getting to the point that he’s so hungry he can’t think of anything else. And isn’t thinking rationally. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve taken to chewing gum and drinking lots and lots of water to fill up my stomach. But that’s not what my body wants. And it’s starting to catch up to us. I can already feel myself losing weight. I’m probably down to the dress size I wished for last Hearth Warming. Not the way I wanted it.

-Amber Harvest [Hungry and frustrated in Hoofington]

Problems Continue

Date: November 15

Synopsis: IF-88-M no joy -AH

Detailed: Spent the day working on the IF-88-M again while chewing on my allotment of gum. Accidentally swallowed it a bit ago. I’ll probably be farting bubbles later. Wouldn’t that be funny? More funny than the problems I’m running into with the IF-88. I know I was going to put it on hold until I hear back from Stable-Tec, but given I’m pretty sure all of the surviving members of Stable-Tec are now underground in their hidden stables, I don’t think I’ll be getting any help with this project anytime soon. The majority of the gun works. It still works. Just that blasted sorter and auto feeder keeps jamming up after a couple rounds. Whether I change ammo types or not. It’s so frustrating. But probably even more so since I’m trying to do it while so unbelievably hungry. Been over three weeks. No word. No help. We’re alone. And food is getting to be an emergency situation worry, and we’re going to have to start making some really tough decisions soon. This is getting more unpleasant by the minute and I worry about our future. However short that’s going to be.

-Amber Harvest [I’d kill for a rose sandwich with extra cream cheese right about now. Seriously.]

Tight Belts

Date: November 16

Synopsis: Rationing intensifies -AH

Detailed: I called it. We went through all of our remaining supplies, and did the calculations. We even pulled out nutritional information for every little thing and started the breakdown for splitting it up. Activities are going to have to be reduced. Our intake is going to be that minuscule. Something has to give. Even with cutting back as much as we are, we barely have enough for another week. And even then, what shape are we going to be in at the end of that week? I swear I was looking at one of our research binders, and started fantasizing about a hay burger. And then even started doing the calculations in my head on how much I could get out of the cellulose that is in that paper.

Sparks is in an uproar, and I can’t even blame him.

Something’s got to give. Before it’s our bodies giving by giving out on us.

Amber Harvest [size triple negative]

FAFO

Date: November 17

Synopsis: We tried security, with predictable results -AH

Detailed: With the food situation being as dire as it is, Sparks spent most of the night yesterday talking to everyone trying to get support on going lower. Moonlight Melody and Coco Hazel got on board pretty quickly. Sunbeam Forest and Honeycomb Cookie weren’t too hard to persuade with their growling stomachs. And when he agreed to make it exploratory and limited, it was hard to logically argue against it, so I agreed as well.

We ran into pretty much what we feared we would. Security in full force like an angry wasp nest. And on top of THAT level of fun, we had to worry about various land mines the little robobastards put out, and turrets all over the place. At one point Melody triggered a mine while running from a murder bot, and froze from pure fear and not knowing what to do. Luckily Sunbeam saw it, and reacted in time. He wrapped the mine with his levitation and threw it right into the face of the pursuing hover bot. The landmine smacked it right in the front, and detonated a fraction of a second later. Melody ended up with some shrapnel in her butt, but considering the alternative she was very much happy about how things turned out. Sore butt included.

Turrets, both hidden and already in plain sight, seem to be all over. We’ve marked them where we can. But we can’t seem to find a path out. It’s becoming clear that if we want out, we’re going to have to fight our way through and make a path out. Which, that might just be what we’re going to have to do. At least fight our way to the break room on a lower floor to give us more time.

But even if we didn’t have the bots, there’s still security doors we can’t get past because it’s not our area. Dammit I wish Copper or Seedy were still here. I can’t blame them for leaving, especially with the way management treated Copper. It was no secret a couple of them had petty grievances with him and were trying to make him quit, because they felt stupid and inferior. Probably even threatened by him. Maybe if we can get to the security room we can give ourselves access to other rooms. But that’s behind even more rows of bots and turrets.

At this point I’d trade sexual favors just to get the hell out of here.

Amber Harvest [If you’re reading this remotely, wink wink, come and get it. My safe word is Pineapple Pizza.]

Celestia Help Us

Date: November 18

Synopsis: Packet of Sugar almost caused murder -AH

Detailed: I can’t believe what happened today. I mean, yeah, I can. The hunger pains I have are making it quite clear. Poor Peppermint Almond dropped a packet of sugar after opening it. One of the ones used to sweeten your coffee? Ones that normal ponies put like FOUR in just to get it drinkable? Yeah, well, she opened it, and was having such a hard time focusing that her magic winked out and the small packet fell down and the sugar spilled out.

I never saw that side of Moonlight Melody. I didn’t know she had it in her. She saw the packet drop, and just completely flipped. I swear I thought she was going to kill Peppermint for a few minutes. She just went off on her about it and made her lick the sugar off the ground. Even told her to eat the paper just to make sure she got it all. And Peppermint was so abashed that she did it without question, but with tears in her eyes. And, I couldn’t do or say anything about it. None of us did. Moonlight just stood over Peppermint like some kinda dominatrix degrading her and making her lick the floor clean. Under completely different circumstances it might have been kinda hot. But, like this, it was just deplorable and exhausting. I didn’t even have the energy to tell her to chill the hell out about the packet of sugar.

Tempers are flaring everywhere. We have to figure something out. A way to one of the other areas. A way through the robots. A way around the robots. Or maybe just a way out and outside. We have to figure something out, we’re falling apart here. I’ve been slowly tinkering with both the IF-88 and my girl That Gun, but there’s only so much I can do that doesn’t involve a lot of movement and I’m trying to cut down on calorie burn rate at this point.

Amber Harvest [Tired and Hungry in Hoofington and apparently a closet pervert]

Gearing stares at the screen for a bit as he thinks it through. “Would they even survive being outside? Like, the radiation would have been even worse then, than now. So…? Would leaving even be a good idea even if they could punch a hole in the wall or whatever?” As he’s pondering over that he reads through the next entries.

Is anypony out there?

Date: November 19

Synopsis: Four weeks since blast and nothing -AH

Detailed: It’s been four weeks. Nothing in four weeks. No sign. No movement. I don’t think they are coming. We’re going to have to get out or do something for ourselves. We’re alone.

Sparks has a point.

-Amber Harvest

Fuck, fuck FUCK!

Date: November 20

Synopsis: Fuckity Fuck fuck! -AH

Detailed: We’re fucked. We are truly and well fucked. I’m talking elder dragon bent us over and railed us like a rabbit level of FUCKED!

With everything going on and how desperate we’ve gotten we had another pony pow wow about what to do. Melody’s freak out the other day was a wake up call to all of us. She’s since apologized to Peppermint, but it’s not really helped. We’re festering here.

So it was decided to see if we could just punch through a wall and rope down to the first floor and out. With all of the manufacturing equipment we have up here, we should even be able to make a simple hoist or elevator. So we rigged up a kind of drill, and drilled right through the outer wall in one of the closets that has an outside facing wall. Thing was even thicker than we imagined, but we got through it. And as part of the plan, we stuck a probe outside to start measuring the outside radiation. The probe I pushed through the hole was already making our instruments go ballistic before it even made it outside the wall. And once it was outside it was absolutely screaming at us. The standing passive radiation outside is insane.

Judging by the readings, there’s been strikes near us. We are fully within the lethal fallout cloud of at least one detonation. With Miramare, the home of Macintosh’s Marauders, not far away that makes sense, it’s safe to assume that was hit directly. Not to mention the possibility of all of the missiles that were probably destroyed mid flight and released their contamination across wide areas of land. We don’t have suits to handle going outside. With the readings as high as they are, we’ll get lethal levels of absorption in short order. My calculations say half an hour to an hour of exposure. That’s not enough time to get anywhere reasonable, search for supplies, and get back, before the timer’s up. And that’s just ONE trip. And we have nothing to flush it out. Not enough Radaway. Not enough radiation prevention tablets.

We are well and truly fucked. And even if there was a military or government left, it’d be too dangerous to save us. And now we’re definitely too weak to fight all of the robots. But, even if we did, that would only buy us, what, another couple weeks at best? Maybe?

We’re so fucked, and not in the fun way.

-Amber ‘Hell in a Hoof Basket’ Harvest

Uncivil War

Date: November 21

Synopsis: Traitors started a war, most died. -AH

Detailed: Cinnamon Sparks, Unicorn Male; Coco Hazel, Earth Pony Female; Moonlight Melody, Unicorn Female.

For the record: May these three traitorous bastards burn in hell for all eternity.

Sparks did not take the news and the decisions from what we had learned last night well. I am TRYING to be as objective as possible about this, and agree that doing nothing is not a viable alternative. But we don’t HAVE any good options, and his ideas were simply suicide. He spent most of the night arguing and fighting with the rest of the survivors here. But, with a five to three vote, they were out. They were told if they wanted to try it on their own, they were welcome to do it. No one here would stop them at this point. If they really wanted to go, they could. And good luck to them. The three named traitors above, Sparks, Hazel, and Moonlight, went off on their own after seeing that we weren’t budging. For most of the night we’d figured they were going to give it a go. To try for the security office.

That thought was shattered this morning when they came into the experimental range we’ve been using as our hideout from the robots, and pulled out various weapons while giving us all an ultimatum. Which resulted in a shootout ending with five fatalities.

It’s still a fresh trauma in my mind, but I’m going to try and put down, for posterity sake, everything that transpired.

Sparks said he wasn’t going to go out, and poison himself to death, just for the rest of us to eat his food. That this was the only safe place he knew about from the radiation so he’d have to come back here, and there’s no way in hell he could trust us not to steal whatever he finds. Not to mention getting past all of the robots and other security. He demanded all of us to go with them. Him, Hazel, and Moonlight. That way we had a higher chance of finding items and getting back, and wouldn’t have to worry about leeches stealing from the others since we were all going to take the same risks.

We argued about the radiation doing us in anyway, and a couple said they’d rather die of starvation, than die of starvation AND radiation sickness.

He kept throwing out countless counter arguments towards whatever was said against him. Most of it emotional nonsense that I can’t even recall at the moment. He’d said something about us ending up eating each other if we didn’t do as he said. But when they realized that we really weren’t going to budge, Sparks decided to take things up a notch. He aimed his weapon, and fired it right above everypony’s heads, and up into the ceiling after stating if we didn’t do what he said, and go with them, he’ll just kill all of us to keep from having to worry about us stabbing him in the back later. Because they have the guns.

Honestly, in hindsight, I realize that it was more of a shallow demand made out of desperation. I have doubts if he really meant saying it or had any intention of actually doing it. But, he said it. And he shot.

What he apparently didn’t realize, for some bizarre reason, is that every single one of the ponies he was pointing his barrel at, were gun nuts. We were gun nuts way before we came to work for Ironshod. All of us have our favorite weapons. Most of us have our own custom pieces. And more than a few of us have used Ironshod’s resources to further our own ballistic fetishes, whether that’s legal or not. So when he started shooting, every single one of us, all five not part of their little clique, pulled out our own personal weapons and started shooting back at him.

My girl That Gun finally got to prove her strength and earned some clout.

Once the bullets started flying, Sparks, Hazel, and Moonlight ran into the shooting range as they shot at us. I don’t know if they were just trying to break line of sight, and I think they were trying to yell at us. But I don’t know what they were saying. Too noisy and chaotic.

Bullets went everywhere. And at the end of it, all three traitors were dead in a pool of their own blood out in the range. We’d even reloaded and emptied more at them just to make sure they weren’t ever going to get up and threaten us again.

Unfortunately, in the exchange Sunbeam Forest, a superb ex-military unicorn buck, and Peppermint Almond, the sweet if meek earth pony mare, both lost their lives to the traitors. Cookie was also wounded in the exchange, but we were able to take care of it with our meager medical supplies and the pair are now cuddled up together against the wall. We’ve respectfully moved Sunbeam and Peppermint to the side, and covered them with sheets that I pilfered from the break room. I don’t know what else we can do for them. We can’t even leave to get food, let alone to make a grave for them.

So now there is only us three mares left, with me being the third wheel for Cookie and Pretty. And now Pretty gets to be the one taking care of Cookie for a change. If it were any other situation I’d be gushing and squeeing at seeing these two together. They’re such a sweet couple and deserve a long life of happiness.

But we’re already out of supplies, with no more options. I don’t see a way out of this.

-Amber Harvest [Tired]

Gearing hangs his head back and looks up at the ceiling as he sighs. “Well, that explains what happened here and what’s with all these bullet holes and corpses.” He lets out a gush of air and turns his head around to look out into the range at the couple of skeletons laying out in the open with all of the holes in them. “Dumb fucking idea. Would have been smarter to work towards the security office on your own if you were that antsy and looking for a fight.” He looks over at the pair against the wall leaned up against each other and frowns before he says quietly, “I can guess how this ended…”

Celestia Have Mercy

Date: November 21

Synopsis: No survivors -AH

Detailed: This is most likely going to be a long one. I feel it necessary to explain myself, and everything, in full. So that whoever is reading this will understand why I did what I did.

First and foremost, I want to express how sorry I am. I’m not sorry I did it. I would still do it again given the same set of circumstances. Even though I’m certain I’ve damned myself in doing so. But I am sorry it had to be done. I’m sorry there was no real other choices. I’m sorry they didn’t get to enjoy the long happy life that they deserved. They were such a cute sweet couple, right up until the very bitter end. They deserved each other. They didn’t deserve what happened to them.

A quick synopsis of what’s led up to this is 8 survivors, mentioned in full throughout these logs since the 23rd of October, have been stuck in this section of the fourth floor of Ironshod’s Research and Development building. The security system was activated and became hostile to all life in the building. The radiation levels outside made it impossible to leave even if we could get past the robots. And, worst of all, there’s no food left. There wasn’t much left in this building to begin with but we stretched it as far as we could. Because of all of these stresses, three individuals; Cinnamon Sparks, Coco Hazel, and Moonlight Melody, started an armed conflict, a coup of sorts, against the other five. In the process, everyone but myself, Honeycomb Cookie, and Pretty Dreamer, died in the ensuing gun battle that took place in the target range.

We had no food. We had no hope. Please understand this. We didn’t have it before the shootout this morning, and we’re even worse for wear since then.

We’d held on for over four weeks. Because the work we do is important for the military, so we thought they would want to come and get it and us. But, I doubt they exist anymore since they haven’t.

So, again, the building is full of security that wants to kill us on sight, the outside is so irradiated that it’s suicide to even step hoof out there, and there’s not enough food to keep us going inside. Even with only three of us now.

So I came to a decision. That’s right. Me. Myself. And I. I didn’t burden the other two with this. They deserved to be as happy as they can be. Not that there’s much happiness to be had in this hell hole. But at least they have each other. And the goodness that that entails.

The problem with having a brilliant mind, and having nothing but time on your hooves to think, is how much you think and how quickly one idea runs to another. And my desperate brain came to a horrifying conclusion. See, we ran out of even sugar packets for sustenance. We’re out of everything we’ve found. That’s what caused the shootout and the deaths today. Lack of hope. Lack of food. But, we haven’t really ran out of food. At least ‘food’. We haven’t ran out of edible things. My mind flashed to an article about certain incidents that have happened in the zebra lands. The comment Sparks made before starting this whole mess probably planted that seed. And it dawned on me that with our five coworkers dying, that would provide us with, objectively speaking, around a thousand pounds of edible flesh to consume. To say nothing of how the rest could be used.

My brilliant mind did the calculations. In rapid order. Against my will. For all three of us. If we acted quickly how much could we process, and how long it would last us, and how long would we three be able to survive off of it. I figured out how long we’d be able to go with a normal diet’s worth of caloric intake, and how long we’d go if we really stretched it to bare minimums. And, granted, the five corpses here would be able to sustain us for months and months. Even as emaciated we all are by now. We’d be able to live here well into next year and probably into the year after that if we managed well. And, damn me for even considering it, but if we had a goal of safety that we could reach just by surviving to that point, I would actually suggest it and push the other two towards accepting it. Like if we knew the military was coming by then. Or someone was coming with supplies to get us out. Or supplies to tie us over longer. If we had ANY hope of living longer AFTER that point, I would find a way to justify it. I would. Damn me, but I would. And I’m disgusted with myself for rationalizing it.

But the same brilliant mind that could rationalize that outright cannibalism, went further and made me realize something else. If we did that, if we tainted our very souls with such an act, we’d never be the same afterwards. We’d have to live with what we’d done. And, actually, I think we probably could. I think most would understand. It’s not like we killed them TO eat them. They died, and THEN we ate them. But here’s the catch.

We have no hope of rescue, so my brain keeps asking, ‘What happens after that?’

And it makes me realize that should we give in to such desperate desires for survival, once we have eaten our poor co-workers, our fellow ponies, we would be in the exact same position we find ourselves in now. In a year, or longer, we would be in this exact shape of desperate starvation. Except two things. One we’d have darkened our souls, and two, there’s the possibility of infighting and basically killing each other further to try and live just that much longer. Once you make those kinds of justifications for evil deeds, they become easier to do more often. I’ve thought about this long and hard today, since the fighting and since we covered our friends in sheets. Even now I can smell the blood. And it doesn't make me repulsed. It makes me salivate and hungry. My body is so desperate for nutrition that it doesn't care where it gets it.

So, when Honeycomb Cookie and Pretty Dreamer finally fell asleep from exhaustion and mental trauma, I decided to do what needs to be done.

Let me be clear. I killed them both. I will not mince words. I used my girl, That Gun, because I knew she’d do the job correctly, and I blew both of their brains out while they slept together with a single shot.

I had to do it. I know this might sound like an evil pony trying to justify their evil actions, but I really did have to. Those two are too good. They are goodness incarnate. I had to. Before we all became monsters. I want us to die good ponies. Not starving creatures full of self loathing who cannibalized our own coworkers. I had to end our suffering and prevent further tragedy. And shortly after I sign off from here I’m going to sit where I normally did when we all talked in a circle over this past month, look them right in the face so the last thing I see is the horrible thing I’ve done to them, and then use my girl to blow my horrifyingly brilliant brain all over the walls. I don’t ask nor pray for forgiveness. At this point I would just like to find them in the beyond and apologize to them. Maybe explain myself if they are kind enough to listen. I don’t expect forgiveness for my soul though.

They really were such a cute couple. Too bad they didn’t just go for it sooner.

To whoever finds my girl, That Gun, please take care of her. I made her so any pony can use her, not just unicorns. A bit of warning, she always seems to pack more of a punch than you’d normally expect for whatever ammo you put in her would normally cause in other firearms. I guess that’s her own special trait. Still not sure what I did to cause that but not complaining. So be careful with her, use her well, and pamper her with plenty of oil. The good stuff is in the desk under this computer terminal.

Princess Celestia. Princess Luna. I’m so sorry. Goodbye.

-Amber Harvest [Murderer]

‘That… sucks…’ the little pegasus in Gearing’s head comments somberly.
Gearing nods as he looks over at the unicorn skeleton that he’s pretty sure is the remains of Amber Harvest, “Yeah. They had no good options. If they had someone to reprogram the bots they could have used those to salvage, maybe control them remotely. But that was outside of their expertise.” He stares at the empty eye sockets of Amber and says softly, “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. You were right. You all weren’t living anymore. You were just dying slowly. Had nothing to look forward to but more suffering and torment. Two hundred years of hindsight has proven you right. Since no one else has been here. You were never going to be rescued. Though I’m the last pony that has any right to offer anyone any kind of absolution. I do hope you found some peace, wherever you landed.”

Footnote:

Processing, Please Stand By. . .

Processing, Please Stand By. . .

Processing, Please Stand By. . .

Sector Discovered, Please Stand By. . .

Retrying, Please Stand By. . .