The first time I woke up at the lighthouse, I was in awe.
Power pulsed through me with the steady beat of the ocean beyond. Calm, majestic, endless. The room around me hissed softly with fluorescent tubes much in tune with my own. Somewhere far above, a great engine turned slowly, casting long beams of light across the ocean surface.
I felt someone touch my surface, and shivered with anticipation as a small tubular key rattled in my door. The intimacy of their inspection of my innards, the satisfaction of being filled with packets of various sizes and contents, sent shivers up my wiring. The cool metal entered my coin slot, rattled down, and I happily reported its value through my small display. Another coin, followed by a pause, filled me with rousing anticipation.
A button press, and another one. I felt my engine whirl to life, a spiral somewhere in me turning, and a small packet falling behind my glassed front. A gust of wind and a tickle of them reaching beyond my lower flap, retrieving a chocolate bar.
That was when they spoke. I still couldn’t understand their speech back then, but the pleased tones that vibrated my window were unmistakable. I just pleased my first customer. If only I could reach out and see them, touch them as they touched me, I thought.
Another sentence, and, soon enough, another coin in my socket. Beyond myself, I could feel a small group chattering as they inspected my wares. Someone reached up, and touched my buttons again. I returned a packet of peanuts, quickly serving another eager customer.
Their touch, the chilling coins sliding down into my money bin, the spinning spirals and returned change, purpose fulfilled… they truly filled me with joy.
It was a long day, but a pleasant one. Much nicer than the first time I came to; a greasy, noise factory floor, the energies assaulting me, staggered and spiky—almost beyond my capacity to filter. I still shuddered at the roughness with which a most secret of codes had been punched into my keyboard, setting me into a diagnostic mode. The empty twisting of all of my spirals at once, the unwilling recital of data through my screen, the turning on and off and on and off of my inner lights… When my cord was yanked from its socket, I welcomed the oblivion, and hoped never to be revived again.
Until today.
The night buzzed around me with the same calming rhythm of the waves, great humming of the light, and turning of some engine far above. It was then when I sighed into the power chord, and felt my breath of joy race through the countless yards of wire webbing through the building.
I listened to its echoes, amazed at how much it told me, and whispered into the wires again: "Hello…"
And the ocean spoke back, with a slow, deep, rhythmic voice.
"How soft you sound, you tiny drain, on mighty ocean’s steady sway,
Fair winds have blessed this midnight hour, bringing you in here to stay!"
I could feel the voice shaking right through my circuits as it continued:
"How rude I am! You dread my voice of heart shackled with solitude!
You mustn’t fear, just let me hear, who comes to this far longitude…?"
I could feel my lights flicker in surprise. Before I could say anything, another voice came in, quieter, but quick and sharp like sawtooth wave:
"Really? Solitude-longitude? Did you even run out of the bad rhymes?"
The booming voice came back, sounding insulted:
"At least I try, Light."
"Yeah," sneered the sawtooth, "you try to scare this poor thing. Did you forget the kitchen lights already?"
"It is not my fault we were—" a burst of noise—"‘blessed’ by lamps with neuroses—"
"You mean lamps who weren’t built for your power bursts and fluctuations? Gah, I can still hear the screams…! And guess what? You probably fried the newbie too."
A slight pause. Then the deep voice came back in a cautious whisper:
"I can still feel them drawing power."
"They could be on fire. The lights were on fire, remember?"
There was a sad hesitation in the hum. I decided to speak.
"I’m… not on fire."
"See?" The booming whiplash of current made my lights flicker. "It’s fine, Light! Oh joy!"
"Gah! Shush!" the sneer shot back. "You almost made me burn out my bulb! Just leave it to me, okay?"
"If you insist…" the boom replied hesitantly.
"Who—" I started, before the sneer interrupted me.
"We are the guardians of the waves," it intoned sarcastically. "The shepherds of shipways. The saviors of sailors."
"The… what now?"
"Well," the voice continued matter-of-factly. "I am the Light on top of this forsaken lighthouse. The loud one?"
"Hello!" the deep voice resonated through me again.
"That’s the Generator."
"A tide generator, to be more precise," the voice chimed in.
"Sure. He gives us the juice, I give us the light."
"Ah," I managed. There was a pause as the power waves stabilized again. I could hear the distant chatter of the fluorescent lights’ ballast somewhere above.
"And you are…?" the Light asked after a couple of seconds. "We heard there would be a newcomer soon…"
"I’m… ah…" I paused. "I’m the vending machine."
"A vending machine?" The sneering sawtooth was back. "At a lighthouse?"
"Light…" the Generator muttered.
"What, do they expect the crew to get a lot of spare change in their wages?" the Light continued. "Or do they think they will be a lot of visitors out here, in the middle of nowhere?"
"Light, you are being quite rude and—" the Generator whispered before the high sneer of the Light interrupted again.
"A vending machine! Tsk! I thought you were the radar we’re supposed to be getting!"
"The radio told us," the Generator explained.
"Didn’t," a third voice noted in a sharp staccato.
"Speak of the—that’s Radio. He likes to listen." Light continued, "Yeah, you told us, Rad. You almost said a whole sentence about it!"
"You were quite excited," Generator hummed.
"Whatever," Light replied. "So, Radio, anything about a vending machine coming in?"
"Nope."
"Thought so! A vending machine at a lighthouse…"
"Perhaps it is to raise morale…?" the Generator suggested.
"Raise morale?" the Light repeated mockingly. "It’s a lighthouse! We could do this all by ourselves! And I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly like snacks!"
There was another pause.
"But the crew—" the Generator paused.
"The crew?! They just sit around and do nothing while we do all the work!"
"A lot of time for snacks?" Generator offered.
"A lot of—" The powerlines bristled with static. "We should be getting snacks! I’ve been waiting to get my engine oiled for two months now, and they bring in a vending—"
Suddenly, the voice cut off. There was just the soft, steady hum of waves generating power somewhere deep down.
"Sorry about that," the Generator mumbled quietly. "I cut his circuit from yours. He has a tendency to… go around in circles, so to speak."
"That’s okay…" I replied, but Generator kept going.
"…Always wanted to be a theatre lamp, you know?"
"That’s—"
"Big dreams, that one. Me? I always wanted to be a tide generator. Not that I have a choice—"
"Hey!" I snapped back. "I said it’s fine, okay?"
Silence.
"I like being a vending machine," I said. "And I like it here. You can’t imagine how noisy the city power grid is."
"I’ve… never been. Sounds dreadful," the Generator said thoughtfully, before adding: "Just don’t take Light too seriously—"
"I said it’s fine. Now, connect me back."
"Are you sure?"
"I appreciate you trying to help," I replied, "but I can handle this."
"If that’s what you wish…"
"—I mean would it kill them to bring some spare parts, Rad? You were complaining about those valves last week, right?"
"Yep."
"So any news on that?"
"Nope."
"The nerve!"
"Yep."
"Light?" I asked.
"Ah, the vending—"
"Shut up," I said simply. "If you hate this place so much, you can go blow a fuse. I like it here."
"The nerve—"
"At least our vending friend isn’t rude to newcomers…" the Generator hummed.
The argument went far into the night. And into the next, and the next, with a few pauses in between. In time, I realized Light quite liked to argue. It must have been better than silence.
That’s when someone disconnected me.
And reconnected me.
"What?" I managed.
"Vendie!" Generator hummed. "Welcome back!"
"What happened?" I asked stupidly.
"You got disconnected for the installation! We have a new friend!"
"We are not your friend, tide generator!!" A chorus of rough metallic voices carried through the wires.
"Wow, who are you?" I asked.
"That is a military secret!" the voices replied.
"It’s the radar," Radio said.
"How dare you!" the chorus blared. "To disregard the secrecy—why, we ought to have you court-martialed!"
"Oh?" Light chimed in. "How exactly are you going to do that? Call the high command on the radio?"
A pause.
"We… have a screen," the Radar suggested. "…But it is analog."
"I have a small display," I offered. "I can relay a message. If the message is ‘Hello!’ or ‘Enjoy your snack!’"
"Humpf."
And just like that, the lighthouse got a bit livelier.
It was strange how time passed in RSL-047. I spent my days swayed by the soft hum of Generator’s waves and the distant chirp of fluorescent lights, listening to Light and Radar bickering about ships, fog, and clouds. Radio dropped a tidbit here and there, but didn’t seem to talk too much - at least to me. But sometimes, deep into the night, I heard him whispering to Radar. There was concern in those words.
And me?
I delivered snacks.
I got refilled every few months when a fresh crew arrived. On a dare, Radar taught me how to see the room I was in by shutting off one of my lights and using it to measure reflections from the other one. I learned how to see the ponies, and in time, figured out what snacks they liked. When I felt like it, I would even give them extra change back. They would always give me a nice pat on the side.
Months passed. Maybe even years - my clock didn’t really do dates. The crews grew smaller, and the ponies grew to look more tired. I didn’t get proper refills, either, and had to save all the change I got. In the end, all we got for the crew were two female ponies - one with a Horn, one with a Hat.
Hat liked chips and peanuts. Horn liked Hat. Radar liked neither of them; they said the ponies didn’t take proper care of him, and left empty cups on their console.
Then, one day, the resupply didn’t come. The ponies seemed concerned, and had Radio contact another base. There was a great screech - and then, nothing.
"Are you okay, Radio?" I asked.
"Y-yeah." I never heard him hesitate before. "They… want to check my circuits. I’ll be off soon. Radar, this is ba—"
And he cut off.
"This is what? Radar?"
"It’s probably a military secret," Light snarked, but there was a hint of concern in his voice too.
"Probably…" Radar said. "But… I don’t think it matters much now. Light? Anything out there?"
"You tell me," Light said. "All I see is fog."
"Same here. Not a ship in sight… It’s… been a while. Hasn’t it?"
"Yeah…"
There was silence again.
"We should wait for Radio to come back online."
"We should."
We waited.
The news wasn’t good.
"What do you mean there’s nothing?" Light blared.
"Calm down, Light! You’re spinning—"
"Calm down?! What do you mean, Radio?!"
"There’s nothing," Radio repeated. "The other station is just… not there anymore. No ships. No airships. No traffic. No chatter. Nothing."
"How can there be nothing?!" Light was panicking. "We’re still here, right? Radar! Tell me it’s a joke!"
"It’s not a joke, Light," Radar replied. "We don’t see anything either. Just waves… We—"
"What about the ponies? Shouldn’t they… I don’t know—investigate, or something? Get on a boat? What are they even doing?"
There was a pause.
"Radar?"
"Uhh…"
"You okay?"
"The mares are…" There was a pause. "We think they’re… coupling. On the console. We—"
A static chatter.
"Ugh, sick! They’re turning our knobs and stuff! Ew! Ew!"
Somehow, the worst part was Light didn’t make a joke about it.
Horn came by later. She didn’t have any change, trying to pry the last of the peanuts from me instead. I yielded before she could topple me over, and watched the females talk. They seemed concerned, but… oddly happy.
I was glad for them.
I stood in the common room, listening to the waves crashing through Generator. Somehow, the ocean didn’t calm me tonight.
"Uhm, Vendie?" Generator whispered.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Do you… do you hear that?"
I listened. The ocean came in, and out; in, and out, in (whine) and out (tap). In (quiet whirl) and out (a muffled hum).
"What is it?"
"I think…" Generator started, then paused. "I think… it’s a submarine…"
"A submarine?" I asked. "Ponies don’t have—"
Oh.
Oh no.
"How far?"
"I don’t know. Few klicks at least? Vendi, I think… I think it’s coming here."
Oh no.
"Quick. We have to tell everyone."
Generator hummed to activity.
"Everyone!" he boomed. "Full alert! We have incoming!"
"Full al—are you crazy?" Radar said. "We don’t see—"
"It’s a submarine!" I yelled. "Radio, can you hear anything?"
"Just chatter. Wait—chatter! Coded. Griffons!"
"We have to do something!" Radar shouted.
"What can we do?" Light screamed back. "I’m already spinning as fast as I can!"
"We have to alert the ponies!" I blurted out. "Make them man the guns or something! We have guns, right?!"
"You’re right!" Light shouted. "Gen! Give us more juice! Radio, Radar! Let’s make some noise!"
I could feel Generator discharge the reserves. Somewhere above, the distant sizzle of power turned into a painful wall of noise. I could almost see every light, screen, speaker and gauge come to life.
"Argh!" Light screamed. "I’m burning my bulb here! Literally! If this doesn’t work…!"
"We think we’ll blow our fuses!" Radar yelled back.
"Doing all I can!" Radio shouted. "All kinds of noise!"
"It’s red!" Light chuckled feverishly. "It’s red, guys, like in the theatre! It’s red!"
"The sub is—" Generator started.
"Contact!" Radar interrupted. "Missile, ten o’clock, one and half klicks! It’s on screen! Horn saw!"
"I can jam it!" Radio screamed. "I can jam it! Give me more power!"
The wires glowed with heat.
"What are the mares doing?!" I screamed.
"They’re—" Radar sputtered. "They’re at the window. We think they’re gonna jump!"
"Jump?! They’ll just—" I started.
"I’m trying to jam the missile!" Radio said. "I can’t—"
A backlash of power whipped into me, almost popping my capacitors.
"Guys?!" I yelled into the wires when I came to.
"Red! Red!" Light laughed maniacally.
"Radio’s gone," Radar said quietly. "He’s gone… We…"
"Are the ponies—"
"I hear them…" Generator sounded strained. "I hear them in the water… They’re alive… I… The submarine…"
"By the maker," Radar whispered. "We can see it. It’s coming. Everyone? It’s been an honor."
I wondered if I’d be reborn as a water fountain.
