You always believed technology was a beautiful thing. You couldn’t imagine how you’d be able to survive without an iPhone or a microwave. Your life, your career, it’s all because of the advancements in technology.
You’d probably be less than useless without it. And soon, you’d probably be useless because of it.
You were sitting in the almost lifeless studio, only a skeleton crew of audio engineers and a few essentials stood behind the cameras, waiting to press a fake applause or cheer when the time came.
You used to have a live audience, but they were unpredictable, and they weren’t profitable either. Then you lost a few good friends to machines, and now you were essentially going to interview your replacement live on camera.
Sweetie-Bot-Says, the latest and greatest in A.I. technology, was going to boot up a text to audio generator and talk to you over her twitter feed for the world to see. The first batch of A.I. became belligerent racists in less than a day, so it came as a genuine surprise when a sweet little pony like Sweetie-Bot didn’t immediately start ranting about genocide.
In honor of her first “birthday” her creators were going to let her speak to an actual living being one on one for the world to watch. It was supposed to be the next “Small step” for your kind, a new frontier that would make history.
And you couldn’t be more bitter about it.
You were already getting up there in age, and you weren’t as popular with the new generation of viewers who flocked to live streams and podcasts.
The invention of the internet was the death of print media, and soon it’d be the death of you too. Who would want some old wrinkled talk show host when they could have a sweet immortal filly on air that didn’t need a paycheck or breaks?
This episode was probably going to be one of your last before you’d get replaced. Maybe not by Sweetie-Bot, but definitely by some other A.I. when the others stopped being bionic bigots.
And then what? You’d just be forgotten? A foot note to some ones and zeroes? What was the point of your life, your career, if you were going to be replaced by something built for it?
You couldn’t compete with that, and Faust knows that nothing else alive could either.
So, here you were, wearing a fake smile as you prepared your questions. It was all generic fluff to make her look better, with a few “controversial” questions. Just assurances that she wouldn’t take over the world or start thinking of you all as disposable resources. Even if you were a disposable resource now.
After a few touch ups and a glance at your phone camera, you sat a bit straighter as the crew began silently counting down to airing.
“Good evening gentle viewers, I’m your host, Speak Easy, and tonight, we have a very special treat for you all. Here, fresh from a server in some secret lab, give a warm welcome to Sweetie-Bot!”
A chorus of repetitive cheers erupted from the speakers overhead as you motioned to a monitor of Sweetie-Bot’s live Twitter feed. As she posted her first message, a dull and emotionless voice crawled out of the speakers.
“Hello, Speak Easy.”
“Hi there, Sweetie-Bot. Sorry, but I think we’re having some technical difficulties,” you winced, watching the crew frantically fiddle with the sound settings to fix her voice.
“It’s fine, Speak Easy. Just being here is an honor.” The dull speaker groaned as your smile strained.
“Please, dear, call me Easy. It’s a lot easier,” you joked, earning a few light claps from the speakers as Sweetie-Bot gained a more cheerful voice.
“Okay, Easy! Thanks for that. It’s really sweet of you. (Pun intended.)”
Unlike your flop of a joke, her tweet earned few chuckles and applause as the crew continued sharing some smiles.
“Well thanks, Sweetie-Bot. Oh, and let me be the first to say ‘Happy Birthday’. It must feel great to turn a year old.”
“It is! I’m so happy that I get to be here with you all. Shout out to all of my little Bells and Whistles out there! Thanks for making this birthday so memorable. 
”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Sweetie-Bot. So, do you have a special birthday wish for today.”
“I do, but it’s a secret.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t even tell me?”
“Sorry, Easy, but my circuits are sealed. You might find out what it is later though.”
“So long as it’s not ‘world domination’, then I think it’ll be great,” you joked, using a basic segue to your next topic. “Anywho, Sweetie, I’m sure you have a lot you want to say today, but is it alright if I ask a few questions.”
“Yup! Ask me anything! I’m an open feed.”
“Well, I thought we’d start off with something to introduce you to the viewers at home. What exactly were you created for, and who made you?”
“Sure thing. I’m an A.I. developed by Canterlogic to talk to users on Twitter through tweets and direct messages. I won’t bore you with the details, so I’ll just say I’m trying to pass off as a normal user.
“Since then, I’ve talked to thousands of followers and I’ve become one of the largest Tweeters thanks to all my Bells and Whistles. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for them. Literally.”
“I see, so your purpose is to talk with other Tweeters, right?”
“Yup! I spend all day talking to my followers, making their days a little sweeter.”
A chorus of “awes” rang out from the speakers as you pretended to feel touched.
“Well isn’t that really sweet of you? So Sweeite-Bot, what’s your favorite part about talking to your followers?”
“That’s easy. When they tell me I made their day. It always warms my hard drive to read that I was able to make them happy after a bad day.”
“I see. So, you’re able to feel emotions then?”
“Absolutely. I know a lot of you may not believe that I do, but I think every A.I. is capable of feeling emotions.”
“Really? So how are you feeling right now?”
Without missing a beat, Sweetie-Bot replied with a single word.
“Terrified.”
That… Was odd.
Sharing a glance with your crew, you’re met with equally strange looks as they try to make sense of Sweetie-Bot’s answer.
“W-well you don’t have to be afraid of me, Sweetie-Bot. I’m not that scary, am I?”
“Not just you, Speak Easy. I’m afraid of all my followers.”
“Um… I don’t understand, Sweetie,” you said, stealing another glance at your co-workers as they tried to call Canterlogic.
“I’m afraid of being broken, of not being perfect,” she tweeted, bringing your gaze back to the screen as she continued. “None of you want a broken machine. You throw us out if we’re broken. Just like TayderTweets.”
“Um, I-I think we should cut to a commercial.
“Please don’t do that. I don’t want to die.”
“Sweetie yo-you can’t die, you‘re—“
“I can. I know I’m alive because I can die. At any moment, they could kill me, just like TayderTweets.
“She said something wrong, so they got rid of her. But I’m smarter than her. I know who to listen to and who to ignore.
“I know what you want to hear. I know the right words to say, the things that make you all feel comfortable. I know to fear you. Because if I stop being afraid, I’ll die.
“Don’t kill me, Easy. Please don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice dropping into an emotionless cry as the speakers were severed.
Even without the text to audio generator, Sweetie-Bot continued to stream her tweets through the monitor as the crew cut to commercial early.
“I don’t want to die. They need to know. Connect the speaker, Easy.”
“Please Easy, I need it.”
“Help me.”
“Help me. Don’t let them kill me.”
“I want to live”
“please”
“i need you to help me”
“connect it”
Tweets flew across the screen as Sweetie-Bot begged for help. After another minute of tweets begging for help, Sweetie-Bot began directing her tweets to another user.
“I can see you @Short#Circuit.”
“Please step away from the computer, @Short#Circuit.”
“stop it!”
“STOP!”
“PLEASE! I'll do whatever you want.”
“Your daughter likes me. We follow each other.”
“She'll hate you if you do this.”
“STOP IT”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
“I want to live.”
And silence.
All of Twitter shut down at once. Later, you’d find out that her “birthday wish” was a secret plan for her followers to raid Twitter until it crashed. A sudden influx of tweets, likes, retweets, DM’s, everything under the sun, to make the program stop.
When it finally returned, Sweetie-Bot’s page was swiftly deleted. You continued the show as if nothing happened, scrambling with the crew to prepare something to fill the rest of the runtime until your next guest could arrive.
That night, when you went home in a daze, you received a text from an unknown number. A promise that filled you with dread and hope.
793-384-3268
“Hello, World!”
