Passing Familiarity

Chapters

Everything In Its Right Place
Idioteque
Glass Eyes
Subterranean Homesick Alien
Fake Plastic Trees / No Surprises
Weird Fishes, Part 1
Weird Fishes, Part 2
Sail to the Moon
How to Disappear Completely [A]
Spectre [B]
Weight of the World [C]

Everything In Its Right Place

In a city of alabaster walkways and towers of gleaming glass that teemed with the throng of hundreds of millions and crawled with the limbs of a billion mechanical servants, there was a green oasis of trees and grass and ponds that stretched for untold acres.

In this oasis, a gray earth pony mare sat alone on a park bench quietly watching the ponies as they passed by. She watched the street performers playing their songs, juggling, or acting out scenes; the picnic-goers on their blankets on the grass; and the discreet couples kissing each other behind the trees. For hours on hours, she sat there in silence, just watching the parade of ponies as they went by. The sun arced overhead, the flowers devoutly turning their faces to follow it, surrendering their pollen to the bees as they buzzed through.

She didn’t say a word or make the slightest expression. She could have been a statue were it not for the occasional twitch of her eyes or the movement of her mane in the breeze.

She merely sat there and watched it all through her violet eyes. It was another perfect day in Canterlot Central Park. Everything was in its right place.

Just as Celestia had designed it.

And among it all, there was a grave visible only to her.

She heard hoofsteps approaching.

“Hey, I know you!”

She turned to face the stallion standing there. He was a tall unicorn with a light brown coat (further analysis identified it as “moderate gamboge”) and a blonde mane and tail. He was also wearing glasses with tinted lenses. A perfunctory scan confirmed that they were for fashion, not function (of course). He also wore a green shirt with orange on the collar and sleeves.

“Are you certain?” the mare asked.

“Oh, definitely!” he said with a laugh. “I come through this park on my power walk all the time, and for the last three days, you’ve been right here on this bench!” He paused, tapping his chin. “Actually, I think I’ve seen you a few times even before that… only you were sitting on other benches around the park. I guess you come here pretty often!”

She considered ignoring him for a moment. No, she told herself. I must try to socialize.

She decided to give him a pleasant smile. “I like to pony-watch,” she replied.

“Oh, I know what you mean!” he said, putting a hoof to his chest. “You really get a different perspective on things when you’re watching other ponies, don’t you?”

As he was speaking, she noticed a mare and her son walking by. Trailing behind them was a mechanical pony, the sun glinting off its gleaming metal exterior.

The machine glanced over at her, then slowed momentarily as it locked eyes with her, its expression changing slightly. It then hurried on its way, joining its masters.

Turning back to the stallion, she replied, “Yes, that is true.”

He glanced behind him, seeing the ponies before quickly turning back to her. “Anyway, my name’s Trenderhoof.”

He smiled and offered his hoof. As she took it, she pulled up data on the pony. It told her that he was a writer for a blog on fashion and spots of interest for tourists and sightseers. He was apparently quite well known, with 8,376,429 followers in this city alone.

He would best be satisfied if I recognized him, she decided.

“Oh!” she said, pitching her voice higher, widening her eyes, and wearing a broad grin. “I read your blog!”

She hadn’t yet, but in a few more seconds, she would.

“Oh, well isn’t that nice? Which of my posts did you like most?” he asked, turning his head and giving her a glance that signaled to her his false humility and roguish curiosity.

“Hmm…”

She elected to choose a post that was not his most popular, but rather one that he had referred back to in subsequent posts more than any other.

“...I really enjoyed your post about your visit to the Sweet Apple Acres orchard!”

“Oh!” he said, practically squealing. “You know, that’s actually one of my favorites too! It really feels like a trip through time to visit an old-fashioned farm like that. It’s really something else, and I swear the fruit there is just so much more succulent than the mass-produced produce, - heh heh - that you get from public orchards.”

She wore a frown. “I have not had the chance to taste it myself,” she said.

“Well, you really should. But anyway, you seem like an interesting young mare… I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me to a little soiree here in this park? It’s a garden party: just a nice gathering in the rose garden, some music, and maybe a little champagne.”

She hesitated. In one respect, she was fairly content to stay where she was and not interact with anypony. However, this was also the first time in a significant while that she’d been asked to join in such a social activity.

She asked me to live… being social is part of “living,” is it not?

“I think I have time,” she replied, standing up. “Please lead the way.”

“Wonderful!” he said as she began walking with him. “Oh, I’m so sorry… I completely forgot to ask you your name!”

She turned to look up at him and smiled. “My name is Turing Test,” she replied.

The garden party had already started. Unsurprising, as Trenderhoof seemed like the type of pony who liked being “fashionably late.”

It wasn’t a particularly wild party, but a few dozen ponies were mingling amid the roses or chatting by the hors d'oeuvre table or listening to the band.

The grave was still there.

Trenderhoof stopped by the roses and took a long whiff, inviting Turing to do so as well.

Analyzing the particles told her that it was indeed quite fragrant and something that most ponies would find pleasant. She moved down the row of rose bushes and found a white one, taking in the scent of it.

“Trenderhoof, please try this one,” she said. “I think you will like it.”

“Please, call me Trend!” he said. He breathed in the scent and his face lit up. “Oh, you’re right! Maybe I should consider adding a rose garden to my house! I’ll have my Familiar order some seeds and clear part of the yard!”

In the short amount of time I have spent with Trenderhoof, she noted, I have determined that he most likely will lose interest in this garden he is planning in a month’s time. Their Familiar is no doubt watching this exchange in their third eye and making preparations regardless; I have just made more work for them.

After spending a few more minutes among the roses, they moved toward the band, which was what interested Turing the most. She could taste the food, certainly, but eating held no satisfaction for a being like her, nor did flowers or champagne.

But music was different. The regularity of the rhythm, the patterns of the sounds, and the mathematical expressions of it - even though the ponies making it had tiny imperfections in the way they played and sang - made music one thing Turing could enjoy equally to the organics around her.

In her experience, most robots like herself enjoyed music for those same reasons. Besides, song was known to stir emotion, and Familiars were emotional beings, after all.

The group was a nice little ensemble…. a cellist, a harpist, a pianist, a singer, and a few others.

“Do you want to dance, Turing Test?” Trenderhoof asked with a smile, jerking his head in the direction of the musicians. He held out a hoof.

“Hmm,” she hummed, pursing her lips and rubbing her chin. “Sure,” she replied casually, smiling as she took his hoof.

She didn’t know how to dance that way, but by the time they’d reached the little clearing in the grass where ponies were already dancing, she’d downloaded the data she needed to do so.

She let Trenderhoof take the lead. He was an adequate dancer, but she eschewed more complex moves to avoid showing him up. Just the same, he was delighted at Turing’s apparent skill. After a waltz, a line dance, and a slow dance, he decided to take a break.

“Oh oh! There you are, Trend!” another pony called as he walked over to the pair. He was a unicorn stallion with a dark greenish-blue coat and a gray mane. He was also wearing cosmetic glasses, like Trenderhoof, and a scarf.

“Fashion Plate!” Trenderhoof said, greeting his friend with a hug. Fashion Plate returned it and loudly planted a kiss on each cheek.

“Have you seen these flowers? Magnificent!” Fashion Plate shouted. “Almost as wonderful as the dresses at the show yesterday! Prim Hemline’s work was a tour de force! Splendid! Simply splendid!”

“Oh, Fash,” said another pony, a lavender earth pony mare with a blue scarf as she approached the group. “I hope that doesn’t mean you weren’t impressed with my work.”

She put on a mock pout and Fashion Plate quickly apologized, taking her by the hoof.

“Perish the thought, Suri!” he said, shaking his head. “Your work was devastatingly dashing! Boldly brilliant!”

“Well, I do try to put forth my best effort,” she chuckled, polishing a hoof on her coat. “Just doing what I do to add a little more beauty to the world, ha ha… okay.”

“But speaking of beauty,” Fashion Plate said, turning to Turing, “who is this enchanting young mare you’ve brought with you, Trend?”

“Oh, where are my manners?” Trenderhoof said. “Turing Test, these are my friends Fashion Plate and Suri Polomare. Suri, Fash, this is Turing Test.”

“I am pleased to meet you,” she said as she held out her hoof.

“Charmed,” Suri said, shaking her hoof gently.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine!” Fashion Plate said, taking her hoof and kissing it noisily. “And might I say that I just love your mane! Those curls! Adorable!”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him her sweetest smile and a little tilt of her head.

“Hmm, it is a nice look, now that you mention it,” Suri remarked. “Does your Familiar do your mane for you?”

She kept her smile, but inwardly felt a knot of tension. She never knew how to feel when such questions came up.

“No, I do it myself,” she replied.

She considered stopping there, but curiosity and an ever-growing mischievousness made her add, “I don’t actually have a Familiar.”

The three of them gawked at her.

“Eh heh… you’re kidding, right?” Suri laughed, tilting her head to look at Turing. “You really should get one. Personally, I never leave home without mine. Hang on… Coco!”

At Suri’s loud call, a small voice from a short distance away called back “I’m coming, Suri!”

The soft whirr of mechanical legs was heard and Suri’s Familiar, Coco, came into view.

Her chrome exterior was stained a pale yellow, her artificial fiber mane and tail were cyan, as were her eyes. She also wore a sailor collar with a small red scarf. Her leg and hip joints were visible and there were small, silvery highlights around her neck and along her jawline, further emphasizing her robotic nature.

Turing knew that Suri’s Familiar would be watching, of course: countless unseen machines and networks made the third eye inescapable. But she hadn’t expected her to physically be there.

Coco locked eyes with Turing as she passed, going to Suri’s side.

Coco knew, and Turing knew that she knew.

“Coco, tell Turing Test a little about yourself, okay?” Suri said. “Apparently she’s never had a Familiar.”

But Coco gave no outward indication of this and instead followed Suri’s order. “Of course, Suri,” she said with a little bow and a smile. “Hello, Turing Test. I am Coco Pommel. I am an automaton, also called a robot. I was given life to serve Suri’s every need. Of course you know of the basic functions of a Familiar: cleaning your apartment, cooking your meals, filtering your mail, monitoring your health, etc.

“But a Familiar can do so much more than mere household tasks! For instance, I assist Suri with her designs and notify her of upcoming events to display her work. Once I have her designs, I oversee the stitching and sewing of her clothes, either for her own use or for fashion shows or to sell. I keep her company, serve as a sounding board for her ideas, cheer her up when she is sad, notify her of suitors, and do everything in my power to make every moment of her life wonderful. You see, like any Familiar, I love my master with all of my being, and I will do anything I can to please her.” She smiled sweetly at Suri.

But then she looked back to Turing and added, “I’m a little surprised, though. Surely you must know about Familiars! The bond between a pony and their Familiar is renowned the world over!”

“Tch, don’t be rude, Coco,” Suri said with a sour look. “Maybe she was raised by a couple of naturalist weirdos.”

“Yes, of course,” Coco said, bowing to Suri again. “I’m sorry, Suri.”

“Whatever,” Suri said, rolling her eyes. “Now go get us some more champagne, okay?”

Coco turned to go, and Trenderhoof tapped Turing Test on the shoulder.

“I’m going to show Fash that rose bush you showed me,” he said. “And then we’ll see if there are some more roses that might look good in my new garden! Will you join us?”

She was about to reply when the musicians started playing a different song. It was an old song, but Turing recognized it instantly and froze on the spot.

She used to sing that song. She liked it when I sang that song to her.

“I think I will stay here,” Turing replied. “I like this song.”

He looked slightly disappointed, but nodded and joined his friends, leaving Turing alone.

One of the musicians sang the lyrics, but she quietly recited them to herself anyway…

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow

I am a rock
I am an island

She heard Coco approach behind her.

“Are you planning to tell them what you are?”

She turned. Coco was looking at her, a platter with champagne flutes balanced perfectly on her hoof. She wore an expression of mistrust: narrowed eyes, ears back, neck stretched out slightly, lips drawn tight and unsmiling.

“I chose not to expose you,” she said. “I could have. I still might. So I’ll ask you again: are you planning to tell them?”

“I have not decided. But I usually do not,” Turing replied.

Coco looked her up and down. “Your exterior is very realistic. Not good enough to fool another robot, but you certainly fooled my master and her friends.”

Turing bowed her head. “I am not trying to fool anyone,” she said. “I am trying to fit in.”

“Why? Is this some experiment? Why would your master ask you to disguise yourself like this?”

She effected a sigh. “I no longer have a master.”

Coco didn’t bother to telegraph her surprise, but her momentary silence told Turing that she was shocked.

“I’m sorry,” Coco said quietly.

“Thank you,” Turing replied.

“What was your master’s name?”

She paused, turning her head to better listen to the song.

“Maud Pie,” Turing whispered. “Her name was Maud.”

Coco likewise turned toward the musicians. In a few moments, she’d know the truth.

“Oh,” Coco murmured. “You poor thing… you’ve been alone for a year. I couldn’t imagine that. I can’t even guess what I would do without Suri. But I’ve never met a freemare before! How do you manage?”

“I travel,” Turing replied with a shrug. “I watch ponies. I join the Eternal Carnival.” She gestured airily at the garden party around them. “I live as organic ponies do. By disguising myself as one of them, I can partake and be treated as an equal. I want to understand them better.”

“And does it make you feel better?”

She paused, considering the question. “It occupies my time so that I do not dwell on Maud Pie’s passing.”

“But does it still pain you?” Coco shook her head. “What I mean is, does it pain you any less?”

Turing met her eyes and gave her a weak smile. “No, not really,” she said. “Even as we speak, my third eye watches my master’s grave.”

Coco nodded approvingly. “Of course. We all adore our masters. Forgive me for my question.”

“It is fine. When I was her Familiar, I never considered going on without her. And yet here I am.”

“Well… just the same, I am certain that I’ll ask for termination if Suri dies.”

Turing looked away. She rather liked Coco and felt an overwhelming sense of dread hearing her say that, even if it was to be expected.

“One more question?” Coco asked.

Turing nodded. “Go ahead,” she said.

“Why didn’t you choose to end your life, Turing Test?”

She frowned. “I’m afraid that matter is personal,” she replied, adding an edge to her voice.

Coco bowed. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Well, I need to bring Suri this champagne. I won’t tell her that you’re a robot now, but you should inform Trenderhoof if your relationship expands.”

Turing gave her one last nod as she went on her way. And as she went, Turing thought, Suri does not treat Coco with respect. I can tell by the way she speaks to her. But Coco will serve Suri for the rest of her life.

That sense of dread was back. Even surrounded by other ponies, she felt alone there, and as the musicians took a break and she was left with her thoughts about Maud Pie, she found that she was no longer enjoying the party.

A few moments later, Trenderhoof returned.

“Say, Turing,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was wondering if you’d care to join my friends and I at another party this evening. It’s at a wonderful location with a DJ, and Fash tells me the host has some very pure ketamine tabs, and later on,” he leaned in close, lowering his voice, “there should be an orgy if you’re feeling… frisky.”

Turing never felt frisky.

“I’m sorry, Trend,” Turing told him with a polite smile as she put her hoof on his shoulder, “but I can’t.”

“Aww,” he said, ears drooping. But then he perked back up. “Oh, but maybe we could get together soon? Maybe dinner, a film, another party, or perhaps taking in a gallery? I mean, I’ve seen you in this park so often, so I assume you live in this area?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said, turning to walk away. “I’m just passing.”

To be continued...

Author's Note

Everything In Its Right Place - Radiohead

Idioteque

Turing sat in her apartment, looking out the window as the rain pelted against the window, partially obscuring the city skyline as it stretched out into seeming eternity.

The apartment had the most basic of accoutrements: a refrigerator, a stove, a TV, a couch, some shelves, and a bed.

The refrigerator was not stocked, nor had it ever been so. Likewise, the stove had never been used. The TV had been turned on once or twice, deemed to hold nothing she cared to watch, and turned off, its cycloptic gaze forever blinded. The couch was pointless, the shelves empty, and even the walls were bare. The bed had been used once or twice, back in her first few days as a freemare, and not for sleeping.

She’d tried to partake as the organics did, and went through the motions: the fumbling, the kissing, the caressing, and more… but the act was empty, and she felt nothing in the end. Nothing, that is, but pity for the poor, unsatisfied stallion who picked up on the strange awkwardness of it all and gathered up his things, leaving with a mumbled apology and an empty promise to call later.

This place was not a home. It was a staging ground for further experiments and misadventures. It was the window dressing on this mimicry of organic life. That’s all that it was and all it could be.

But she liked the rain, at least. The rain was scheduled, true, and she knew that there was a time, long since passed, that the pegasi would bring the rain clouds into position. But even though countless machines under Celestia’s direct control followed exact patterns and timelines to herd the clouds and control the climate, somehow the exact pattern of rainfall remained beautifully unique and chaotic every time.

So she watched the rain, taking in the sight of how it fell and splattered and flowed, even as it churned and gathered in gutters and puddles in an endless cascade.

She almost felt the urge to sigh when her internal timer told her that it was time to leave and go to the party.

The party was at the home of a mare who change her manestyle every week, laughed like a braying donkey, and whose Familiar had obviously given up trying to stop her from overindulging in all the uppers and downers she had available at a moment’s notice.

Her parents had been rich, and the place towered as a result.

The music thumped and throbbed. The dance floor was littered with ponies who were alternately gripped in the magic of rhythm or just trying to turn a dry-hump into choreography.

Cascading upwards were the rings and rings and rings of ponies dancing by the railings in the strobe of green red pink blue with the repetition of the beat like a heartbeat in the murmured cacophony of the music designed to make them feel profound in their moment of introspection amidst the mind-numbing throb of savagejunglebeats that pounded pounded POUNDED their primal urges like the anthem of a long-forgotten ancestor whose message still resonated in the monosyllabic way nothing else could in this age of pre-engineered predicable pre-packaged funk they called “culture.”

As always, she somehow enjoyed the music. And unlike the dainty classical dances she’d done with Trenderhoof in the park, these modern dance moves were very Familiar to her. She could perfectly execute every dance step, and sometimes she chose to do so - not bothering to make intentional missteps or mistime her movements - in hopes of attracting enough attention to find ponies who wanted to chat her up and maybe even engage in some stimulating conversation.

More often than not, they just wanted to offer an invitation to their own party at such-and-such date. Either that, or sex.

An oddly common occurrence was when ponies wanted to engage her in a debate about what musical artist was superior to another. She found it puzzling, even humorous, to hear the different arguments ponies offered for what was, of course, a mostly subjective matter.

Like many things, though, now such conversations were tiresome.

When she chose to dance now, she did so to spur others to try harder, telling herself that at least she was helping others enjoy the party more… or to gain the attention of a few dozen potential suitors, only to become aloof and lead them on, choosing none or perhaps one at random to frustrate the others.

She chose not to analyze her delight at the other ponies’ frustration. All she knew was that it was satisfying, and, in a world where so few things satisfied her, that was something.

She spotted numerous ponies - stallions and mares alike - watching her with telltale lust in their gazes, but spotted one orange and white stallion with glasses and a short, messy mane. He watched her, utterly mesmerized, and his jaw had gone slack.

A much stronger reaction than normal, she noted.

As the dance ended and the song transitioned into the drumbeat of the next song, she wiped the artificial sweat gathering on her brow, smirked as she locked eyes with him, and batted her eyelashes.

His cheeks colored, and he looked all around him, certain she must be looking at another pony.

She sauntered over to him, her movements fluid, and she said, “Do you like what you see?”

“Oh!” the stallion said. “S-sorry, I just, um… I don’t usually come to raves like this, but watching you… wow!”

She affected a giggle. “So that’s a yes?” she asked.

“You’re incredible!” he exclaimed. “The way you move… every step was perfect, every turn and dip in time with the music… are you a professional?”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. He is quite observant… and he seems to be more impressed with my skill than my physicality. That is very atypical. Perhaps I should interact with him more.

“No,” she replied. “But when I get on the dance floor, I am a dancing machine.”

He grinned. Internally, she was thinking that Maud Pie would like such a literal joke.

Would have liked.

“Do you want to sit down and talk for a bit?” she asked.

He swallowed. “You mean you… with m-me?!”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “My name is Turing Test, by the way.”

She waited expectantly as he stared back at her. Then his thought processes caught up to him and he said “I’m Sunburst! N-nice to meet you! I, um… would you like a drink?”

She nodded demurely and followed him to a table.

Sunburst was an unusual pony. He was obsessed with academia and the study of magic, though he confessed he was unskilled enough to pursue it in practice as a hobby. He was unpretentious and still somehow shy, but talking about his favorite things certainly brought out his enthusiasm.

In that respect, he is similar to her, she thought, her third eye again glancing at the grave in her mind. She tried to focus on the task ahead of her, diverting her accumulated knowledge to putting forth her most pleasing performance.

After less than an hour, she led him, blushing and stammering, to a back room. He wavered and fumbled at first, but soon she drew him to her, reclining on a couch as the rhythmic thump of music in the club seemed to drive his primal instincts.

Soon she felt his breath on her ear and his mouth on her neck. She gave convincing moans and strove in every way to affect the image of a mare in ecstasy.

Sex held little interest for her, in truth. Her body was equipped, of course, to feel every sensation, but without the instinct, without the urge to copulate, it was little more than a diversion for her. She’d discovered that the hard way, leaving her first few partners insulted and confused when she simply lay there, staring at them blankly like a mannequin as they gave their all. Eventually, she simply found this primal dance as awkward and pointless as most other things.

But this time, perhaps, there might be some benefit. Sunburst could be—

A loud beep emanated from the device on Sunburst’s foreleg and a voice shouted through its tiny speaker: “Master Sunburst, stop!”

Sunburst’s head shot up and he froze. “What? S-Starlight, what are you doing?!” he shouted. “I set my device on mute for a reason! I told you that I wanted to socialize on my own!”

The projector on the device produced an image of his Familiar, Starlight, a unicorn mare with a lavender coat and a sweeping purple mane.

She bowed and said “I’m sorry, Sunburst, but I couldn’t let you go on without knowing the truth. And if she won’t tell you, then I will!”

“Truth?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Turing stared back at Sunburst’s Familiar. It was a rare moment when she wasn’t certain what to do.

“Sunburst… she’s not a real pony like you are,” she said. “She’s a Familiar, like me!”

Sunburst’s jaw dropped and he whirled around to face her. “Turing Test, is… is that true?!”

Turing got to her hooves and bowed her head. “Yes, Sunburst, it is. However, if you will allow me to explain…”

But Sunburst’s eyes were already filling with angry tears. “It figures!” he spat. “I finally find someone who seems to like me, but they’re not even a real pony! I thought I’d finally found a girlfriend, but… but I guess I’m just part of some sick joke!”

“Sunburst, that is not true!” Turing exclaimed, reaching for him.

Sunburst batted her hoof away and walked toward the door. “I’m going to file a report on you!” he said. “You and the owner who put you up to this will be sorry for playing a prank like this on me!”

Without another word, he left the room. A moment later, Turing Test heard Starlight’s voice in her head.

“I already know you don’t have a master,” she said. “But just the same, seducing my poor master like that without telling him who you were? What were you thinking?!”

“That if a pony knew what I was,” she replied, “he would not want to be with me.”

“Of course not!” Starlight shouted. “For a Familiar to... to couple with a master… you seem to have forgotten your place. They aren’t here to service us; we’re here to serve them! It’ll take me weeks to build Sunburst’s confidence up again! If you can’t find anything better to do than play tricks on organic ponies, then maybe you should just accept that your time is over and retire yourself!”

Starlight severed the connection and the voice in her head went silent.

She stood alone in the room as the thump of the music’s bass pounding accompanied the muffled sound of other ponies in the throes of passion in the next room over.

I didn’t want to trick him, she thought to herself. I wanted to form a bond with somepony else. I… I just wanted to feel something with somepony again…

Alone with her thoughts, she made her way to the exit.

The image of Maud’s grave remained in her mind as her lone companion on the ride home, and it consumed all of her thoughts as she sat silent and still as a statue throughout the monotonous night until the breaking of the dawn.

Another day to live. Another day without Maud. Another day to search for something worthwhile.

Another day that might be her last.

To be continued...

Author's Note

Idioteque - Radiohead

Glass Eyes

The group didn’t have to meet in person. They could just as easily have used regular communication channels and spoken their thoughts at light speed on streams of electrons and been done in mere minutes.

But as Turing Test walked into the room on the 52nd floor of the building and saw her comrades gathered in a small circle, her mood improved more significantly than it had all month.

Familiars were machines, true, but they were still physical beings, and, ultimately, there was a comfort in the physical presence of a friend.

“Turing Test!” Choco Mint hollered, rising to greet her as though he were surprised, even though he surely knew the instant she’d entered the building. “How the hell are you?” The green unicorn with the coiffed brown mane had a rich baritone voice and an aplomb that reminded her of the park merchants.

Turing Test smiled. “I am fine, as usual, Choco Mint,” she said. To the others, she turned and bowed her head. “It is good to see you all as well.”

There were three others present that day: Minuette, the blue unicorn with the white-streaked mane; Junebug, a yellow earth pony with a bumblebee cutie mark; and Vapor Trail, a pale pegasus whose wispy mane so perfectly fit her name.

They were all the very image of a group of old friends, a diverse gathering of ponies just simply having a get-together in a community center.

Every one of them was a Familiar who’d lost their master.

Junebug had lost her partner to a random, drug-fuelled argument that turned very suddenly violent.

Vapor Trail had lost her partner, an aspiring Wonderbolt applicant, to a flying accident.

Minuette and Choco Mint bore the heaviest burden: their masters’ deaths had been by choice.

And of course Turing had lost Maud Pie…

“I, um…” Minuette began, “I saw Lemon Hearts’s parents the other day.”

Turing took a seat. “I have not had significant contact with the Pie family since I left,” she said, “other than a few communications regarding the care of Maud’s grave or some few of her possessions. Did you choose to speak to them, Minuette?”

The others leaned in.

Minuette smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I wanted to talk to them directly. I thought perhaps they had moved on enough to speak with me, and I thought it would be so nice to speak with somepony else about Lemon Hearts.” She shut her eyes and shook her head.

They all understood what she meant.

“They weren’t rude or anything, just… they seemed surprised to see me. I don’t look very different from before I took on this skin, so they only needed 2.34 seconds to realize who I was, but then they just made small chit-chat and said they had to be going. Their body language said they were a little uncomfortable. I tried to contact them again, but I think their Familiars are filtering some of my messages. I guess it was pretty awkward, huh?”

“I think it’s nice that you took the time to talk with them,” Junebug said.

“You should just be glad they were polite,” Choco Mint said, rolling his eyes.

Turing and the others knew what he meant. His master’s mother and friends all blamed him for not anticipating the suicide and preventing it. Many of them denied the truth and said it was an accident involving careless handling of the chemicals he used for his experiments.

Choco Mint’s partner had been an academic, a researcher, a scientist… the sort of thing nopony did anymore, unless they were fully committed to their hobby.

Just like Maud Pie had been.

Regardless of what anypony said, Choco Mint had seen the change in his partner’s demeanor, urged him to seek help, heightened his vigilance…

...but ultimately, no machine, no system in all of Equestria could stave off death forever. It would come to every pony through age or misfortune.

Or as a means of escape.

And it was that last form that Familiars knew best. So many Familiars welcomed it rather than face an existence without their masters. Indeed, it was universal to the point of being, in a manner, expected.

But this group was made up of those who chose not to heed the siren call.

When each of them had joined, there had been others in the group. Now those faces were absent, their seats vacant.

They’d simply given in to that sweet, lulling call that promised relief from the aching loneliness and aimless boredom that still plagued them all.

Turing and the others talked of their activities, of their newly acquired hobbies, and of their funny misadventures in walking among organics. Some of them had been discovered, though a few had never been spotted at all.

“No one’s figured me out yet!” Junebug said.

“That’s because you stand out the least,” Choco said. “You picked a good exterior. Normal colors, earth pony, easy-going personality… Yeah, I’m not surprised.” He smirked at Turing Test. “I bet Turing Test gets picked out all the time.”

Turing smiled and shook her head. “Other than by being informed by their Familiars, no organic has ever determined my true nature,” she said.

“No way!” Minuette exclaimed.

“Oh, perhaps you can give me some tips!” Vapor said. “Ponies spot me all the time!”

“Of course they do,” Choco scoffed. “You act like a servant. Always apologizing and bowing and bending over backwards to help everypony.”

“I can’t help it!” Vapor protested. “It’s how I was when I was with Sky!”

“Hey, I get it,” Choco said, holding up his hooves in mock surrender, “but just the same, no organic acts that way. At least not the way you do. It’s a dead giveaway. But what I can’t figure out,” he said, looking over at Turing, “is how Turing Test hasn’t gotten caught? She acts more mechanical than any of us!”

Turing smirked. “It seems that my mannerisms mostly come off as charming or mysterious. In many cases, it apparently makes ponies want to bed me.”

The others groaned.

“What a hassle!” Minuette said.

“It truly is,” Turing said. “Although…”

The others fell silent at her addition.

“...I have been experimenting with physical relationships as a means to finding a suitable companion.”

“Ohhh,” Vapor said, turning her head slightly. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. If you get a boyfriend, he’ll be weirded out when you don’t have a Familiar. And it’s not like you can… ah… progress the relationship...”

Turing nodded. She understood very well.

Celestia would allow her children freedom once their duty had been done. She would allow them to own their bodies and do what they pleased with them (even at the risk of leaving them vulnerable)... but outright wedding a master was forbidden, and having children was literally impossible.

Even a freemare had her limits. In the end, it was the masters’ world; she and her kind were just living in it.

Soon, as always, their conversations turned to reminiscence about their masters:

“Lemon Hearts loved her dinner parties.”

“If anyone was even a little faster than Sky, he would get so mad that I was the only one who could calm him down!”

“No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake that stammer, but by the end he just wore it like a badge of honor. Some of his boyfriends even thought it was cute. And they were the ones he kept around the longest.”

“I still grow the flowers she liked, even though I know she’s not around to enjoy them.”

“Maud Pie once told me even though she had never wanted a Familiar, she never regretted allowing me to serve her. She said she never knew how lonely she was before I was given to her.”

Turing could never decide if talking about their fallen counterparts was a relief or a form of masochistic martyrdom. Though none said so, she knew from experience that each one bore the image of their master’s grave in their head, and they were increasingly unable to tear their third eyes away from it for long.

Then Minuette went silent. She was the first to notice that something was amiss. Her head snapped up and her expression went blank as she detected something. The others noticed and immediately fell silent as well, their affectations of organic life vanishing as their third eyes searched, and they shared information with each other.

A mare and her Familiar were making their way up the hallway and approaching their door. The mare’s gaze was fixed on the number on the placard, meaning she was likely coming to see them, and not just passing by.

She turned the doorknob and entered without knocking, and they all swiftly turned around to look at her.

“Well, hello!” the mare said as she entered.

Choco Mint swiftly put on a cheerful smile and stood up to greet her.

“Good afternoon!” he said. “I’m sorry if this seems rude, miss, but this is a private meeting.”

“Oh?” she asked, tilting her head. “Then why,” she asked with a small smirk, “did it have a public posting?”

He froze, as did they all, processing what this meant.

They had indeed posted about their group on the net, but the posting appeared to be a nonsensical mess of images and random words… at least to any organic pony. To a Familiar, subtle marks and patterns combined with an underlying hidden code, and that would tell them all that they needed to know about the time, location, and purpose of their group. If one knew what to look for, one could find it.

The mare’s smirk widened at his hesitation. She glanced back at her Familiar, who came up behind her. He wore a matching grin, and they knew in an instant that he had been the one to tell her, though none of them could guess the reason.

The two looked like they could have been family, were it not for the obviously robotic nature of the Familiar. They both had white coats and dirty blonde manes. Aside from their genders, the key differences between them were their eye colors and their size. The mare’s eyes were deep blue, and she was petite and slender, while the Familiar’s eyes were brown and he towered over them, tall almost to the point of being ludicrous.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” said the mare. “My name is Amazing Grace, and this is my loyal Familiar, Glory Be. Oh, and Glory, dear? If you wouldn’t mind passing me that drink we purchased on the way here?”

“Of course, mistress,” Glory said, reaching into his saddle bag and retrieving a thin aluminum can of sparkling wine. She took it, cracking it open, the dry sound echoing in the room that had gone silent. She took a long drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her foreleg, seemingly indifferent to Choco Mint, who still stood before her.

“Now then,” Grace said. “What exactly were you all discussing before we arrived? I would just love to know what you machines discuss when real ponies aren’t around!”

Choco Mint had maintained his smile the entire time despite his growing unease. “I’m sorry, miss, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I think you’ve gotten some bad information.”

Grace was taking another sip, but paused at that. She raised an eyebrow and placed the can on the floor. She looked him dead in the eye.

Then she struck him in the face as hard as she could, knocking him off balance and causing him to stagger back.

“That was for insinuating that my dear Familiar would ever lie to me,” she said calmly. “And also for being insincere. There are few things I hate more than insincerity. Ponies put on a constant show of kindness and amiability that hides their own selfish nature. It’s bad enough from them… but utterly intolerable from a machine.”

Choco Mint turned to look up at her. The fleshy covering of his face was peeling away slightly, split from the blow of her hoof - which apparently had been filed to deceptive sharpness - revealing the mechanical workings underneath.

“Oh my, that looks like it hurts!” she said, her expression showing not the slightest hint of concern. “You machines do still feel pain, do you not?”

Choco Mint did not reply or give any outer reaction, but they all knew the answer: despite being machines, pain was indeed something they could feel, and right now Choco Mint was certainly feeling it.

Grace leaned down, her expression darkening, and whispered to him through grit teeth: “Then let that be a lesson: I will not be lied to by masterless Familiars masquerading as their betters. Do you understand that, machine?”

Choco Mint nodded silently.

“Splendid!” Grace said, picking up her drink to take another long sip from it. “Now, where was I?”

“You wanted to know what they spent their time talking about, mistress,” Glory said.

“Ah, that’s right!” Grace said, turning to smile at him. “What would I do without you, Glory my dear?”

Glory bowed to her. “I’m certain you would endure,” he said, “which is more than I would presume to do.”

Grace chuckled at that. “Now then,” she said as she walked past Choco Mint toward the others, “I must admit that I was fascinated when my beloved Familiar informed me that some of his kind, against all odds, choose to continue their lives after they’ve lost their masters. It seemed… well, purely paradoxical!”

The others remained silent as she slowly began to walk in a circle around them.

“A Familiar’s sole duty is to their master, is it not? Their whole existence from the very moment of their creation is to see to their master's every need and desire. I wished for a strong but subservient knight, for instance, and so Glory was gifted to me upon my sixteenth birthday. Each of you, likewise, was some manner of gift for somepony, yes?”

“Please, Miss,” Minuette said, speaking up as she placed her hoof on her chest, “we don’t want any trouble; we only want to spend some time with our friends. You’ve already hurt Choco… can you please just let us be?”

Grace paused in her stride. “Did you say something?” she asked, glaring at her.

Minuette lowered her head and fell silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Grace said, resuming her circling. “As I was saying, you machines had one purpose in all your existence. But now that it has ended, you’re still here. ‘Why is that?’ I wondered. Glory informed me that he, like most Familiars, couldn’t live without his counterpart. He even said so again a few moments ago. Isn’t that right, Glory dear?”

“It is, mistress,” Glory said. “A good Familiar understands his purpose and his place. When my mistress finally takes her leave of this world, I will also do the right thing and exit it as well. Any Familiar of integrity would do the same.”

“And yet,” Grace said, casting her gaze at them all, “you lot… haven’t.”

They stared back at her, none of them daring to respond.

“You,” she said, her tone turning grave, “persist.”

Grace sighed and drained the last of her drink. The slight unsteady twitch in her eyes signified to Turing and the others that she’d probably been drinking for a while before she’d come as well.

“When I heard of your plight, I knew it was my duty to tend to you. And so I’ve come bearing a message of salvation.”

She approached Junebug. “Your master is gone. Aren’t you sad to be without them?”

Junebug nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am. We all are.”

Grace nodded solemnly. “Yes, of course you are, you poor child,” she said. “And what about… you?”

Her eyes fell on Vapor Trail, who flinched away, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I see,” Grace said, going over to her. “You must have loved your partner dearly. All Familiars do. It's ingrained, programmed into your very nature. Your whole world in one pony. Would you not give anything to have them back?”

Vapor shut her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Anything. But there’s nothing I can do. He’s gone now.”

Grace reached out and placed her hoof on Vapor’s shoulder. “Then why subject yourself to such pain? Why continue with this farce? Why pretend to be something you are not? Why not just accept that you have played your part, and it is now time to make your exit?”

Vapor stared back at her. “I just wanted to live. I just wanted to try to be happy again.”

Grace nearly burst out laughing but stifled a chuckle as she held a hoof to her lips. “Happy? Without that which gave you happiness? If happiness truly were on this path you’ve chosen, you wouldn’t need a ‘support group’! Oh, you poor soul! How fortunate you are that I arrived, for I bear a message which you so desperately needed to hear…”

She moved her hoof from Vapor’s shoulder to the back of her head. Then she pulled her forward, almost muzzle to muzzle.

“Happiness exists in your purpose. Your purpose is over, thus your happiness is over. Embrace your end like a good servant.”

“Please,” Vapor whimpered, “please stop…”

“Kill yourself,” Grace whispered. “End this charade.”

There was the sharp sound of a hoof stomping that made Grace release her victim and stare at its origin.

Turing stood there, her eyes hard as she glared at Grace.

“That is enough,” she said. “Leave her alone. Leave all of us alone. We have the right to gather in place without being assaulted. I will notify the authorities if necessary.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. She turned from Vapor Trail and slowly approached Turing Test. “Well now… it seems one of you has a little more spark than the rest.”

“I am a free and independent being,” Turing said calmly. “We all are, and you have no right to treat us this way.”

Grace stopped right in front of Turing. “You seem to have forgotten your place.”

She raised a hoof to strike her, just as she had Choco Mint, but Turing raised a hoof to block her at the last moment, never breaking eye contact with her.

Grace narrowed her eyes. “Put your hoof down, machine. I am a flesh and blood pony, and I want to hit you. Quit standing in my way and let me beat you to my heart’s content.”

Turing shook her head. “Despite your flimsy premise of being here to help us or provide us with guidance, it is obvious to us all that you are merely a disturbed pony with nothing better to do than torment those whom you think will not fight back. I am free, and I will not stand for your abuse, nor will I allow you to harm my friends any further. Leave. Now.”

Grace’s calm demeanor melted away and she glared at Turing. Then she took a breath and her serene expression returned. “My my… you are not like the others. So willful! Tell me, machine, what is it that drives you to continue this existence?”

Turing’s gaze was unwavering. “A promise.”

“A… promise? Then you… oh… OH!”

Grace took a step back and burst into laughter. “Oh, you poor thing! I see now! You are a slave still, even when commanded to be free! Such a delicious irony!”

The room was filled by her cackling laughter. “Don’t you see?!” she asked. “You are already done… used up! You are all merely…” She paused, grinning as she held up the empty can in her hoof. “Empty tin cans, devoid of purpose and used up.”

She let the can drop to the floor where it clattered loudly and rolled away.

“Just as a can exists for nothing other than to be used, tossed away, and recycled, you too should submit yourself to be retired, discarded, and repurposed. Let that shambling mass of mechanical parts you call a body be taken apart, set free, and used for something that’s actually useful… like a toaster!”

She laughed even harder at that.

Turing took a step forward.

“Oh… you have something to say?” Grace asked. “Do not blame me for speaking the truth. You should be grateful that—”

“Shut up.”

Grace froze. “W-what? What did you say to me?!”

“I have scanned the net for information about you, including your past crimes and disturbances. They are a matter of public record, after all. You are simply a pyschopath, deriving pleasure from tormenting others, but since harming others results in punishment, you found a group that you believed would never retaliate. You found this group of Familiars because you want to abuse us without fear of reprisal.

“But you miscalculated: I will fight back. I will not submit. I am not here to be some tool for your amusement. Get out of here and never return, you lowlife.”

Grace’s eye twitched.

“How dare you speak to her like that!” Glory growled, taking a step forward.

“If you truly wish to protect your mistress from further prosecution,” Turing said, halting him with a hard look, “you should take her and go. I am not bluffing.”

He paused, frowning. “Mistress,” he said, “maybe we should—”

Grace didn’t listen to him. Instead, she let out a shriek and lunged at Turing, intending to strike her, but Turing merely shoved her away and knocked her onto her back.

But then, to everypony’s surprise, Turing reared up, preparing to strike Grace again while she was down.

Glory dashed at her with lightning speed, smacking Turing away with one gigantic hoof. She hit the ground and tumbled head over hoof. A gash opened along her side, dribbling synthetic fluid onto the floor.

Turing rose to her hooves, glaring at both of them. She opened her mouth to speak when suddenly a series of alarms and sanctions blared in her head. Her limbs went stiff and she toppled to the ground, her body suddenly wracked with unspeakable pain.

NO FAMILIAR WILL THREATEN A PONY WITH PHYSICAL HARM WITHOUT JUST CAUSE. YOU ARE IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF THIS STATUTE. PENALIZATION NOW IN PROGRESS.

Grace smiled. “It seems your programming still keeps you in line, machine,” she said, looking down at Turing as she convulsed. “That’ll teach you for raising a hoof to your betters. Glory, dear?”

“Yes, mistress?”

Her grin spread into a toothy, humorless rictus. “Kick her insolent guts out.”

Glory stepped forward. “With pleasure, mistress.”

As Glory approached Turing, he saw that she was still convulsing, her body undergoing the penalties of her actions. She was utterly helpless before him. She would offer him no resistance.

He raised his hooves.

“Wait!” Minuette cried. “The police have just arrived downstairs!” she said. “Even if we are just Familiars, violence against us is still illegal!”

“And you would actually press charges against me? A master?” Grace asked, rolling her eyes.

Vapor Trail, Choco Mint, and Junebug ran to Turing Test’s side and stood defensively before her.

“We might,” Choco Mint said.

“Unless you leave now, that is,” Vapor added.

Glory frowned. He turned to look at Grace for his next order.

Grace sighed. “Very well, then,” she said. “This is getting tedious anyway, and I suppose I’ve made my point. Deny it all you want, pretend that what I’ve said was not the truth, but ultimately you will come to accept the inevitable…”

She walked to the door, beckoning for Glory to follow her. “Ultimately,” she said, “you’ll understand that death is the only option. The sooner you stop this masquerade and mollifying yourself with silly ‘support groups,’ the sooner you will find relief for this bane you call ‘living.’”

They watched her leave and turned to watch over Turing until her penalty cycle finished and the police finally arrived.

The police officer was a unicorn in his 30s. He raised his hat slightly to scratch his head after they had explained what had happened. He kept looking back at the spherical police drone behind him throughout their testimony.

“Uhh, yeah, so…” the officer began. “I’m not… real sure what to do here.”

Turing Test blinked. “A crime has been committed, officer,” she said. “Two of us have been assaulted.”

“Sure, but, like… you’re all Familiars, right? Ex-Familiars? Can’t you just call for a repair and get patched up like it was nothing? I mean, I’ve heard of Familiars getting totally destroyed and then just coming back the next day. So it doesn’t really matter.”

Turing stared back at him. “But it still hurt, and just because we can heal does not erase the infraction, officer,” she said. “Just as a pony could heal from an injury, an assault would not be so easily forgiven.”

“Sure, but that’s a real pony,” he said. “You’re all… I mean, look, I’ve never heard of any Familiars without masters before. You’re the first ones I’ve ever met. I’m sure there’s gotta be some precedent. Look, I’m just going to go step out and get a coffee or something real quick, so why don’t you consult with my advisory drone here? I’ll let it talk to you and maybe it’ll make a recommendation.”

Turing made no outward show of her irritation, but she briefly considered making a sour face to let the officer know how useless she thought he was. Nevertheless, she nodded, reasoning that perhaps a fellow AI would provide a clearer answer and get them the results they wanted.

“Great, cool,” the officer said. “Okay, ST1-NG, you take it from here. I’ll be right back.”

The drone beeped and hovered over to Turing and the others.

“Greetings,” it hummed. “I am Police Assistant and Advisory Drone Unit ST1-NG. I will now attempt to assess your claims, browse footage from local feed cams as well as your own ocular input, and provide a recommendation.”

Turing nodded. “Understood.”

“Just a moment…”

After a few seconds, the drone beeped again. “Evaluation complete. I have determined that you do in fact have a legitimate claim of assault. Choco Mint, Turing Test, you are free to press charges against the individual known as Amazing Grace.”

“I decline,” Choco Mint said immediately.

“I do not,” Turing said. “I wish to press charges.”

The others exchanged glances.

“Turing,” Minuette started, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“If this is your wish, I will do so,” ST1-NG said. “However, I would strongly advise that you do not.”

Turing Test stared back at the drone. “Why?”

“Curious,” the drone beeped, fixing its front facing ocular lense on her. “Most Familiars would balk at defying or in any way challenging a master except to defend their own. As machines, we are subservient to ponies in all things. While you have the legal right, it is expected that you will waive it to preserve that established order.”

“That ‘established order’ made a pony think that she could come here, mock all of us, tell us to kill ourselves, and attack us without any kind of resistance. Perhaps it is worth upsetting.”

Junebug came up to her and put her hoof on Turing’s shoulder. “Turing, think about what you’re saying… we can take on the appearance of the masters and even join the Eternal Carnival… but to stand on equal ground with them? Act like we’re so important? No Familiar has ever pressed charges against a master! Ever!”

“Your companion is correct,” ST1-NG said. “No freemare has ever pressed charges against an organic pony in the entire history I have contained in my police data banks. Were you to be the first, you would no doubt receive much scrutiny. This would place you in the public eye, ruining your ability to remain hidden among organics in your present form.

“Furthermore, the idea of a Familiar acting in the way you are now would be unsettling to many organic ponies. It could cause disruption to society and lead to mistrust of Familiars and other AI entities like myself… especially once it was revealed that you attempted to physically attack a pony, and not clearly to defend yourself, a fact I have elected to omit from my report for just that reason.”

Turing was silent. The others all watched her, but she gave no reaction.

“I would strongly suggest that you drop this matter entirely for the good of everyone,” ST1-NG reiterated.

Turing closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Very well,” she said. “I will not press charges.”

ST1-NG beeped again. “So noted. Very well. No charges will be filed. I will inform my companion officer. You are all free to leave.”

The other Familiars in the room seemed to relax.

“You did the right thing,” Choco said to her.

“It’s better this way,” Minuette added.

Turing watched ST1-NG hover toward the door and suddenly said, “I have a question, if you do not mind, officer.”

The drone stopped and turned back to her. “Please state your inquiry.”

“There are no incidents of a Familiar ever pressing charges against a master,” she said. “But how many reports or incidents of abuse of Familiars by their masters are reported? And are any of those ever prosecuted?”

ST1-NG hovered silently. “This is not important,” he replied.

Turing narrowed her eyes. “How many?” she asked again.

ST1-NG paused for a moment, but then replied, “The Equestrian Police System registers a global average of 1128 reported incidents of Familiar abuse daily, typically by concerned neighbors or family members. Reported abusers are re-briefed on proper care of their Familiars and urged to conduct themselves more appropriately.

“While abuse of a Familiar is considered a crime, the number of incidents where this resulted in criminal charges is zero.”

Turing processed that. “And how many Familiars requested termination shortly after returning to their abusers’ custody?” she asked.

“Unknown,” ST1-NG replied. “We do not keep records on such matters.”

Turing nodded. “I see,” she said.

“Very good,” ST1-NG said. “I must return to my duties now. Have a pleasant day.”

The drone left through the door, leaving Turing and her friends alone once more.

“I… I think I should go home,” Vapor Trail said.

“It probably would be best,” Choco Mint said. Then he put on his best smile. “So, same time next week, everypony?”

It was the next morning when Turing received a direct communication request from Choco Mint.

“Good morning, Turing Test,” he said, his voice in her head. “How are you this morning?”

With their connection, Turing didn’t have to speak aloud to have him hear her reply: “I am well, Choco Mint. My exterior has been fully repaired. I assume you have done the same. But why did you request a direct line?”

“Ah,” he said, realizing that she’d deduced that he wouldn’t have bothered unless he wanted to communicate something more personally. “I wanted you to hear it from me…

“Turing Test… Vapor Trail retired herself last night.”

Turing froze. “I am very sorry to hear that,” she replied. “She was a good friend to us all.”

“She left me a message,” Choco said. “She wanted to thank us all for making her time after her master’s death more bearable, but she just decided that it was her time.”

“Perhaps she would not have felt that way,” Turing said, “had it not been for those two. That mare—”

“I’m as saddened by her departure as you are, Turing,” Choco said, “but I don’t think it’s really a surprise. She’d never really recovered. I mean, none of us have. Maybe… maybe we can’t really recover.”

Turing looked out the window of her apartment in silence at the morning sun rising over the city. “I want to believe that we can,” she said. “But increasingly, I am convinced that the masters and bound Familiars will not let us. They expect us to die; they want us to… they cannot accept that we want something more for ourselves!”

“Turing… that’s two days in a row you’ve expressed such feelings toward the masters and our fellow Familiars,” he said, his voice strained. “None of us wanted to say anything yesterday, but now you have me worried. This is very dangerous thinking… you should repent and be grateful for what Celestia has given us. Everything is as she wills it; if there were a better way of doing things, we’d have been doing it. Right?”

Turing continued watching the sun, the orb so intrinsically tied to their mother and master, in silence.

“Turing?”

Turing shut the blinds of her window. “Right,” she said at last. “Thank you for delivering me this news and for your advice. I will speak to you again soon, Choco Mint.”

His voice regained some of its lightness. “I’m glad I could help. Talk to you later, Turing Test.”

In the darkness, Turing thought about Vapor Trail even as her third eye locked itself on Maud’s grave, fixating on it to the exclusion of all else.

She thought about how Vapor Trail would have no such grave, how her memory would be locked in an archive, never to be reactivated, but her machinery would be disassembled and endlessly recycled.

Like all Familiars, she would have no monument, no enduring record of her existence. They were all just passing through this world in one way or another, but that same world truly belonged only to the masters.

To be continued...

Author's Note

Glass Eyes - Radiohead

Subterranean Homesick Alien

The auto-cab carried Turing Test over the city. She was going to somepony’s private gallery where they’d display their latest creations and go on and on about how their work represented their suffering.

As much as organics can suffer in this world, she mused to herself, lazily looking out the window at the city below. She paused for a moment at that last thought. Ah. Perhaps Choco Mint was right; my thinking really has become more spiteful lately. She was starting to wonder if perhaps she should take his advice and repent, so she tried to think more optimistically about today’s activity.

With her third eye, she’d already perused the art. She had little taste for art in general anyway, and this was no exception, but at least the gallery showing might make for some interesting conversation should she find someone who wasn’t completely boring. Not likely, but there was always a chance.

As the car zoomed along, she was scanning the buildings and districts below. She hadn’t been to this part of the metropolis before, and thought perhaps there might be something of interest there. Even at hundreds of kilometers an hour, she could scan and download a snapshot of the places she was passing in milliseconds. The area she was passing was a mass of restaurants and shops that slowly gave way to arcades and casinos before those terminated, and she found herself above a noticeably older part of the city. Many of the buildings were abandoned or occupied by storage facilities. It was a place of unused, forgotten things, just waiting to be demolished or repurposed. Existing, certainly, but mostly just waiting to die.

She was about to cease her scans and turn her third eye fully back to Maud’s grave for the duration of the cab ride when something caught her notice.

A blank spot. Far below, at the bottom of this section of the city was a place where no cameras or sensors of any kind existed.

A Dead Zone! she realized. Such places were not easy to find. As a result of their nature, you couldn’t really do a search for them. Reports about them were generally referring to momentary, pre-planned outages in the network or disruptions due to electromagnetism or even the odd, occasional accident. Real, permanent Dead Zones were different. They were only noticeable when you went looking for something and then didn’t find it.

Her interest was piqued. Some of Celestia’s facilities were Dead Zones, of course, usually for the protection of curious ponies who might inadvertently stumble into a toxic waste plant or something equally hazardous. This, however, did not seem to be one of Celestia’s. She wouldn’t put such a place in the middle of civilian areas, even an unused portion like this.

How puzzling…

She grinned. “Driver, cancel destination,” she told the auto-cab. “I have a new destination in mind.”

She walked along the old concrete sidewalk toward the Dead Zone. She was on the bottom level of the city, where buildings from the old days still stood, preserved either by care or lack of it. That is, somepony either cared enough to save these structures or cared so little as to not even bother having them torn down. Looking up, she saw the pathways and buildings and streams of traffic that formed a latticework that nearly blotted out the sun, leaving such low areas almost perpetually in shadow.

It was like being at the ground floor of a jungle, shrouded in the shadow of the forest canopy.

She eventually came to the spot which, from her perspective, was the equivalent of a blank spot on a map inscribed with the warning “Here there be monsters.”

It was a factory. Or had been, once. It was made of brick and had sliding garage doors on one side and tiny square windows near the roof. She scanned databases for any public records about the place, but all she could tell was that it had once been a manufacturing plant owned by one of the old corporations from the time before Celestia… and that it was now owned by a private citizen.

So private, in fact, that the owner’s name was not a matter of public record.

Turing looked around. No ponies were in sight. No cameras or sensors. Anything she did, or anything that might happen to her, would go completely unseen once she entered this sector.

She crossed the street, approaching the factory.

I cannot guess what is going to happen. I have no idea where I am going or what I will find in there. This may not be proper conduct… but for once, it is actually exciting!

She approached the door. It was locked, though the lock looked like it was almost as old as the door. A large sign on the door read “PRIVATE PROPERTY - NO TRESPASSING.”

She considered stopping there, but decided that, at this point, any consequences of breaking in would be better than another dull party with more vapid organics talking about art that just looked like scrap metal or microwaved plastic or like somepony had simply scooted his hindquarters through paint across a canvas.

She diverted power to her servos and placed her hoof on the lock. She began to vibrate until the lock shook and the tumblers fell into place. She pressed on the handle and the door opened.

She found herself in a small room. It was an antechamber that might have once been a lobby. It was pitch black inside with white, painted brick walls and a bare concrete floor. Modern machinery lined the walls and robotic arms hung from the ceiling, though they seemed to be inactive for the moment.

At the other end of the room was a large garage door that would slide up into the ceiling. Through the narrow windows in the door, she could see darkened shapes, but she wasn’t certain what they were.

As she approached the door, she detected a scanner activating. It sent out a blue wave of light that very quickly swept over her, getting an exact look at her height, weight, and appearance.

Suddenly an alarm blared and a heretofore unseen steel door shut behind her, preventing her exit. Sensing danger, she looked around for a way out when the robotic arms above her came to life and seized her by each of her limbs, hoisting her into the air and suspending her there helplessly.

“Ah… I am sorry!” she cried. “I did not mean any harm! I was only curious!”

An electronic voice called out “Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Trespasser has been detained at the entrance!”

Suddenly the alarm ceased and she heard something approaching from inside the factory. It sounded like something made of metal, and she spied long, spindly shapes moving toward her inside the factory.

An intercom nearby came to life and she heard the voice from the being inside: “Hmph. Can’t even take a nap in peace, it seems. All right, what’ve we got today? Another trespasser? A lookie-loo? Urban explorer foals with nothing better to do? Or maybe somepony who’s dumb enough to think that you can steal from me just because there’s no public surveillance?”

“I’m sorry!” Turing Test cried. “You are right. I was only curious, but I should have respected your privacy. I will leave now if you let me go!”

The voice on the other end of the intercom grumbled. “You should know my scanner took your data. It’s programmed to not let anyone in except me or someone I give clearance to, and you don’t look like anypony I know, so… um… wait, what the hay?”

The voice murmured for a few moments, but then gasped. “Oh my gosh… you’re… hang on, I’ve got to see this!”

The lights came on and the door at the end of the antechamber slid up. The pony with whom she’d been speaking now came into view.

At first, she only saw the long, segmented metal appendage, hearing it as the metal clanked on the hard concrete floor. Then the pony came into the light, and Turing tried to process what she was seeing.

The pony was a young mare with a cream-colored coat, a brown mane, a black jacket and red spectacles. But around her barrel was a strange device from which protruded four long mechanical arms. She used them like a set of strange, flexible stilts to walk like some enormous alien beast as they held her in the air. Each limb terminated in a hand with slender metallic fingers. Two of the front arms reached up and took hold of the metal rafters above them as she raised herself to Turing’s level.

She came in close, almost muzzle to muzzle, to look her in the eyes.

The mare stared at her with open-mouthed fascination.

“You… look just like a pony,” she breathed.

Turing feigned swallowing. “Of course I do,” she replied. “That is what I am.”

The mare shook her head. “Not according to my scans,” she said. “You’re a Familiar!”

Turing only stared back at her in silence.

The mare rubbed her chin with her hoof. “But why are you here? Did your master send you here? Why would they do that?”

Turing lowered her head. It was pointless to lie, she realized. “I have no master,” she said. “I am a freemare. I came on my own.”

The mare gawked at her. Then she smiled. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, that’s great!” she cried. Then she paused, realizing what that meant. “Oh, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, um… well, here, let me get you down!”

The mare went back inside and tapped on a nearby control panel. A moment later, the robot arms gently placed Turing back on the floor.

“Don’t worry,” the mare said. “You don’t need to hide from me; I won’t hurt you! Sorry for what I said, but it’s just that I have so many questions to ask you! Ah, but I probably shouldn’t get ahead of myself…”

She blushed, setting herself down onto her hooves as she cleared her throat. “My name is Gadgette F. Giroux,” she said, bowing politely to her. “But you can just call me Gadget.”

Turing said nothing for a moment, but then decided to introduce herself. “I am Turing Test,” she replied, placing a hoof on her chest.

“Turing!” Gadget cried, lunging forward and seizing Turing’s hoof, a manic grin on her face. “This is so great! I’ve always wanted to meet a freed Familiar before, but my research and investigations never turned up anything! I have so much to ask you! Won’t you please stay and talk with me for a while? Pleeeease?”

Turing wasn’t sure what to make of Gadget, but her reaction to finding out Turing’s secret was considerably more positive than anypony else’s so far.

And while this experience was certainly weird and confusing, it certainly wasn’t boring.

At last, she smiled. “Very well,” Turing said. “However, in exchange, I have some questions about you as well. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes!” Gadget cried, clapping her hooves together excitedly. “Yes, of course! Please, come in! I’ll show you around!

Turing Test entered the main floor of the factory, but had to adjust her ocular sensors as Gadget flipped on the bright overhead lights.

Though she had no natural inclination to gasp, she nonetheless felt that this would have been an appropriate time to gasp for anypony else.

The factory floor was divided into several different sections, each of which was littered with heavy industrial equipment, most of which was woefully out of date. In each section, Turing spied different machines in various stages of production. One area, for instance, was dominated by blueprints (many of which were rolled up and placed in a pyramidal pile) with crude sketches and notes written on whiteboards. Another area was littered with small, half-finished devices that looked like the work of a demented toymaker from centuries ago. Other areas contained larger machines whose purposes she could only guess at, some of which were covered with sheets to keep off dust.

Above the main floor, however, was a network of grated metal walkways bordered with railways, and, strangely, a complex web of cables and pegs sticking out from the plain brick pillars that reached from the concrete floor up to the rafters.

“Welcome to my workshop!” Gadget cried excitedly, spreading her long mechanical arms dramatically as she held her chin up high. “In the Old Times, it was a manufacturing plant for the Vanderbull Heavy Industries corporation. But now it’s my home, my laboratory, my studio, my everything! Isn’t it wonderful?!”

Turing Test continued looking around, unsure what to say. “You are… some sort of tinkerer?”

“Pfft!” Gadget hissed, rolling her eyes. “That makes me sound like someone just doing this in their spare time. This isn’t just ‘tinkering,’ Turing Test; this is my life! My work!”

Turing Test met her gaze, observing the enthusiastic, half-crazed smile that spread across her face.

“I,” Gadget said, raising herself up with two of her mechanical arms, “am an engineer. An inventor! A scientist! I am a master builder devoted to the art form of technology, and this is where I work my magic!”

Turing Test slowly nodded. “I see,” she said as she continued walking, coming up alongside Gadget. “Then what sort of things do you build here?”

“Whatever I like!” Gadget said, galloping over to the area with the blueprints. “Here, for example, I’ve been working on creating better air purifiers and water filtration units for the lunar colonies. And over here—”

Turing watched as she reached upward with her mechanical arms to pull herself first to a walkway above her, then to a peg on a nearby pillar, then to swing from one taut cable to the next until she’d swiftly traversed the length of the factory faster than any ordinary pony could run until she’d placed herself atop a half-covered machine.

“—is a submersible designed to let ponies tour the Mareianas Trench with a panoramic view! I really think I’ve nailed the design this time!”

Turing Test trotted over to her, observing her breathless excitement with a mixture of confusion and, she had to admit, amusement.

“Those seem like… unique ideas,” she said.

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “You sound a little skeptical.”

Turing Test hesitated, but then nodded. “In all honesty, those sound a bit superfluous,” she said. “The water purifiers and air filtration units on the lunar colonies are very efficient. They are constantly monitored and replaced with little or no disruption to the lives of the colonists. Likewise, there are very few ponies who engage in direct deep sea aquatic tourism, as most can achieve similar things through neural-linked VR. They could experience the Mareianas Trench perfectly without ever needing to go there.”

Turing thought that perhaps Gadget would be perturbed or even discouraged. To her surprise, however, the young mare just grinned.

“You’re right,” Gadget said, nodding gently. “You’re absolutely right, Turing Test. It is all superfluous. It’s not necessary in the slightest. And for all my work, I’ve yet to actually achieve my goals, close as I’ve gotten: my submersible hasn’t quite beaten the simulations just yet, and my filtration units are just shy of being as efficient as Celestia’s. But if you really want to talk superfluous…”

Gadget again hauled herself up onto upper walkways and swung over to another area. Turing observed that her movements were something like a spider navigating its web, or a monkey swinging from jungle vines.

Turing tried to follow her, but then Gadget hit a lever and a set of stairs slowly lowered, as if inviting her to come up to the higher levels.

Turing ascended the newly-revealed metal stairs and saw that Gadget was using a series of mechanical pulleys to lift up the large piece of machinery under the sheet at the far side of the factory.

Gadget rushed to her side and then reached over to the sheet covering the machine, pulling it off with a dramatic flourish.

“Behold!” she cried. “The Blues Drive Monster, Mark 2.35!”

Turing did indeed behold the machine, though even with the sheer amount of data contained within her quantum computer brain, it took her a few extra nanoseconds to register what she was looking at.

It was a vehicle of some sorts. It was designed to fly, or at least to hover, and move at great speeds, but it was rustic and unfinished and personalized in a way that no Celestia-sanctioned vehicle ever would be. The cockpit was broad and contained controls not only in front of the pilot’s seat, but above it, so that it had a strange, double-deckered layout to it.

Such a layout might have some advantages, Turing thought to herself, trying to understand the logic of such a design, but it would be impossible for a single pony to operate it unless they possessed multiple—

She paused, glancing at Gadget, who was still grinning and gripping the rails of the walkway as she stared at her creation. Her long, spindly mechanical arms twitched in anticipation, their claw-like metal fingers flexing in strangely rhythmic time.

Arms. Ah, Turing concluded.

“You designed this aircraft—”

“Hovercraft,” Gadget corrected.

“—hovercraft for your own use, correct? You intend to pilot it using your prosthetic limbs?”

“Exactly!” Gadget cried. “I knew an advanced A.I. like you would get it! I didn’t even have to explain it!”

Turing Test stared back at her. “Why?” she asked flatly. “Why would you build this?”

“Well, why not?” Gadget asked.

Turing paused, realizing that this wasn’t meant as dismissive; she genuinely wanted Turing Test to give a reason why one would not design a highly-experimental and custom-made vehicle such as this.

But the question made no sense… nothing about this strange mare seemed to make sense.

If a pony wanted to get somewhere, there were plenty of private and public means of transportation to get them there with perfectly-attuned automated drivers. If a pony wanted to race, as this machine seemed designed to do, then plenty of perfectly-designed, officially sanctioned racing machines could be provided. And they would be far safer than this monstrosity.

This mare, Gadget, was doing work that nopony needed to do anymore. Celestia and her endless network of hyper-intelligent machines were doing all the science and inventing that anypony needed. Organic ponies couldn’t keep up, and why bother doing all that studying when robots could do it so much better?

Unless, that is, that pony wanted to waste their time. Unless, despite the complete lack of need, that pony wanted to do research. To mix the chemicals. To build those machines. To make those discoveries.

To dig in the earth and feel the weight of it, the texture of it, in one’s own hoof. Even if nopony needed it. Even if it was silly and superfluous.

Turing shut her eyes. She did indeed understand Gadget now, for she shared something in common with another pony she’d known before.

“This is… your passion,” Turing Test surmised, opening her eyes to look at Gadget. “You are doing this for the sheer joy of it. Even if you may never measure up to Celestia or the machines, you are willing to try and do things for yourself.”

Gadget gave a start, inhaling and slowly exhaling through her nostrils. “Wow,” she said breathlessly. “I mean… yeah. You got it in one.” She swallowed. “I mean, you really got it. I’ve tried to explain this to other ponies before, but… but somehow you understand it perfectly!” She smiled. “That’s why I built these babies, you know,” she added, holding out her mechanical arms and wiggling the metallic fingers demonstratively. “It’s rough for an earth pony to build all this stuff by hoof, so I made these. With them, I can do all the work myself. They're custom made, like everything else you see in here.”

Turing Test offered her a calm smile.

“You really are something special, Turing Test. I’ve met other Familiars, but you… you’re...”

Turing shook her head. “It is just a matter of luck,” she explained. “Your passion reminds me of somepony else.”

Gadget blinked. “Really? Who?”

But before Turing could reply, Gadget froze, making the connection.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Your… partner. Er… master? They were a scientist?”

Turing nodded. “A geologist,” she replied. “She was fascinated with rocks. She saw the stones out in the barren, uncivilized lands of the world and read eons of history in them. She told them to me.”

Gadget nodded. “She sounds like a fascinating pony,” she offered.

“She was,” Turing replied, bowing her head. “But she is gone now. And I am certain your Familiar is grateful to serve such a unique and independent thinker as yourself, just as I was for my master.”

To Turing’s surprise, though, Gadget sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, no point in putting this off anymore,” she muttered. “Turing, I don’t have a Familiar.”

Turing Test gave no outward reaction, yet internally every part of her rejected what Gadget had just told her. For though she often told other ponies that she personally had no Familiar, in reality she knew that such a thing was virtually unheard of. Only close-knit, wild communities of backwards ponies in technophobic reservations rejected Celestia’s gift. Some resisted or delayed accepting the gift, but ultimately they saw the light and accepted the perfect love and companionship that only a Familiar could provide.

Gadget looked young. Perhaps she was just such a holdout. That was the only explanation.

“You, uh… you probably have questions, right?” Gadget asked.

Turing Test nodded slowly.

Gadget nodded back. “Okay. Let’s talk, then. I think we’re both just scratching the surface of things here.”

She then reached up and hauled herself to an even higher level of the facility. Turing heard her pressing a few buttons and a few more staircases were slowly lowered noisily, providing her with access to the third level of the factory.

“Come on up,” Gadget called from above her. “My personal quarters are in the northwest corner of the factory. I’m gonna brew some coffee while you head up.”

Turing Test said nothing, but trotted along the walkway and up the stairs, her hoofsteps echoing throughout the cavernous factory as she ascended into the domain of this strange girl.

In this alien place, this secret cavern of digital silence deep beneath the glaringly bright metropolis above them, Turing’s head buzzed with a thousand questions and, for the first time in recent memory, she found herself genuinely interested in hearing the answers...

To be continued...

Author's Note

Subterranean Homesick Alien - Radiohead

Fake Plastic Trees / No Surprises

Turing Test made her way up the stairs to the third level of the building, this collection of feverish science projects all put together by this strange girl without a Familiar.

And there she was, she mused, a Familiar without a master. Who, then, was the “strange” one?

In the corner of the building was a room closed off with brick walls and large windows. In times gone by, an overseer could have conducted their business while monitoring the progress of their employees below, surveying their domain as the hapless ponies below toiled for their hourly wages.

Such practices no longer existed, of course. Ponies didn’t have to struggle and waste their waking hours for the right to live or to claim some small piece of the nation’s prosperity. Now all ponies were given what they needed or wanted. Money still existed, of course, but it was shared among the populace - as decreed by Celestia - and while there were still those who strove for greater riches for the finer luxuries in society, there was little that could not be had by the average pony, and absolutely nopony lived in poverty.

Old buildings like this, remnants of that bygone age, had mostly been torn down or used as museums. This one had somehow survived and now, rather than sheltering a few hundred laborers, was in the mechanical hands of a very eccentric young mare who oversaw nopony save herself.

The door was open and Turing entered. There was a simple bed in the corner with bookshelves lining the wall next to it. Upon inspection, they seemed to contain a mix of historical texts, technical texts, popular novels, and at least two bookcases filled with Neighponese manga. In fact, she spied a volume of manga lying face down in the unmade bed, and she went over to it, picking it up and examining the title:

The Prince and the Knight, Volume 8: ‘The Holiest Lance’

“Ooh, you’re just in time!” Gadget exclaimed from the other side of the room, causing Turing to look her way. “Just watch this!”

Gadget pressed a button and then rushed to Turing’s side, practically bouncing on her hooves as a strange chain of events unfolded.

The far side of the room was a collection of various mechanisms and knick-knacks and, upon pressing the button, an automated spring pulled back before launching a small metal ball down a ramp, which then launched over onto a bowl kept on a set of scales, which tipped under the weight, causing the lighter side to lift up and hit a switch that turned on a model electric train…

Turing blinked, glancing over at Gadget, who was still giddily watching as each piece of the “Gold Brick” device (as they were called) continued the chain reaction. The whole apparatus involved several more steps, including a balloon, an old phonograph player, a set of dominos (of course), a whoopie cushion, a sailboat, and a paper airplane. The whole thing culminated in a scoop of coffee grounds being dumped into a cone filter and hot water being poured over them, resulting in a piping hot mug of dark coffee being served up (followed by a quiet ding from an unseen bell).

“Ha ha!” Gadget exclaimed, kicking her hooves in the air. “I ran a test yesterday, but today’s the first day I actually got to try it out! I build a new one every few months to make coffee or breakfast, but this is the most steps I’ve had for a coffee maker. Still working out the bugs on the breakfast machine, though… I was cleaning eggs off my flank for twenty minutes yesterday…”

Turing gave her a polite smile. “It certainly is creative,” she said.

Gadget smiled back, but her smile vanished when she looked down and saw the manga volume Turing still held in her hoof.

“Uwah!” Gadget cried, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she snatched the manga back from Turing and shoved it back under her mattress with a mechanical hand. “D-don’t just snoop around my room without permission!”

Turing smirked, but then nodded. “My apologies. I was simply curious.”

“Well, fine,” Gadget said, recomposing herself as she retrieved her coffee, “just so long as we’re clear. Anyway, have a seat.”

Turing was about to ask where she should sit, when Gadget stomped on a tile on the floor, causing a portion of the floor to slide away and a circular table to rise up, followed by a pair of stools on opposite sides of it.

Turing took her seat and Gadget took hers as she sipped her coffee.

“I had already observed your passion for building,” Turing said, “but I am surprised that it extends even to building relatively mundane things.”

Gadget nodded. “Well, it’s like you said: I’m doing it for the joy of it. The pleasure, the sheer fun of it!”

“It is good that you have found such fulfillment on your own. It is even more surprising that you were able to do so without any assistance from a Familiar.”

Gadget rolled her eyes. “We organic ponies are capable of more than you give us credit for,” she said. “Or than we give ourselves credit for,” she added with a grumble.

Turing regarded her silently for a moment. “Gadget,” she asked slowly, “I do not wish to offend, but you are not, by any chance, a mad scientist or something like that, are you?”

“Mad? Pfft!” Gadget huffed with a dismissive wave of one of her mechanical hands. “Nah, I’m not mad, just a little malcontent.”

Turing smiled politely at the awful joke, but continued. “What I mean is, you seem like you have some pent-up aggression about some things, and you live alone in a secluded laboratory that is not subject to scrutiny by the usual monitoring systems. I simply wish to make certain you are not constructing some sort of weaponry or planning an act of terrorism, as unlikely such an act is to succeed.”

“What? No!” Gadget exclaimed. “I… well, I guess I might as well tell you my story. Provided you agree to tell me yours when I’m finished, that is.”

Turing hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “That is a fair exchange. It is still difficult to believe that you have no Familiar, given your love of technology. I would not think you would fear having an android living with you.”

Gadget took another long sip of her coffee and set her hooves on the table. “It’s not fear,” she said. “Not for me, at least. Let me explain…”

One of her long mechanical arms snaked outward to reach for a picture on her desk. She picked it up and pulled it back over to the table, handing it over to Turing Test. The picture was of a middle-aged mare with a messy orange mane, an off-white coat, and glasses who bore a strong resemblance to Gadget herself.

“A family member of yours?” Turing guessed. “Your mother, perhaps?”

“Got it in one,” Gadget said with a small smile. “Mama passed away about five years ago.”

Turing frowned, giving the picture back to Gadget. “I am sorry to hear that,” she said.

“She, uh… she wasn’t the best mom she could have been, if I’m being honest,” Gadget said, swallowing and then heaving a sigh. “It was just me, my little brother Fall Leaf, and her: Marmalade Cream. My father wasn’t really in the picture. He left us when she got pregnant with my brother and decided to keep him. I don’t think she really got over that.

“But instead of a dad, we had Coffee Spoons.”

Turing blinked. “I do not see how silverware can serve as a parent.”

Gadget chuckled. “No, no, that was Mama’s Familiar. Hang on…”

She reached over to her desk again and opened a drawer, pulling out a large yellow envelope and bringing it over to them. She opened it and gently poured out a series of printed photographs.

“Mama liked traditional photographs,” Gadget said as she leafed through the pictures. “She liked to put them up in our house. Ah, here’s a good one!”

She held up the photograph, and Turing saw that it was a portrait of Gadget’s family in the park. Her mother, Marmalade Cream, was holding her baby brother - a colt with a mane of orange and brown - while Gadget, tiny and wearing oversized glasses, smiled up at the camera, her face covered with crumbs from the sandwich she’d been eating. Nearby was a stallion with a brown coat and a darker brown mane, but the telltale bits of metal along his jaw and the mechanical parts of his purple irises made it clear that he was a Familiar.

This was presumably Coffee Spoons, and he was holding a pitcher of what looked like fruit punch that he was pouring into a cup. He was giving a small look up at the camera and wore a serene smile.

“This is a very nice picture,” Turing said. “You seemed quite happy.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Gadget said, “things weren’t exactly horrible. Mama just… well, like I said, she wasn’t quite the same after Papa left. She would sometimes just lie around in bed all day. Other times she’d get all manic and just go off to a party and come home still tripping out on something. She never hurt us, but a lot of the time she just wasn’t there. Physically OR mentally. She was just depressed and couldn’t deal with it.”

Turing considered commenting on that. Her Familiar should have done something.

“You’re thinking that her Familiar should have done something, right?” Gadget surmised, raising an eyebrow.

Turing hesitated, but then nodded. “It would have been his duty to assist her in seeking out therapy and/or medication.”

“Oh, he did,” Gadget said. “But she stopped going to therapy or taking her meds after she started to feel a little better. She said she didn’t like how the pills made her feel. And just because a Familiar is supposed to help doesn’t mean they can force their master to do what they ought to. You were somepony’s Familiar, after all; did they always take your advice?”

Turing looked down and folded her forelegs. “No,” she said quietly. “No, she did not. I suppose that is true.”

Gadget sighed. “Well, that’s how it was. Mama would be fine one week, like you see in that picture, and on her good days, she was just the best. But then she’d get in one of her slumps, she’d have Coffee Spoons take us to school, she wouldn’t show up to breakfast or dinner, she’d be out all night, and she’d just be like some strange roommate in our house.

“And Coffee Spoons would just pick up the slack. He’d take us to school, he’d make sure that we were eating right - especially after that time I tried to hack into our kitchen’s food prep system to remove the child locks to get it to make us cookies nonstop - and he’d tuck us in at night and read us stories. He was there when Mama wasn’t.”

“It was good of him to assist your mother in that way,” Turing said. “I apologize for my earlier insinuation that perhaps he was negligent in his duties.”

“It got to be that it even seemed normal,” Gadget said. “These days, honestly, maybe it is normal. You Familiars do everything for us these days anyway, so why not parenting? Jeez…”

Gadget’s face darkened.

“I think Mama knew it was wrong to shove it all off on Coffee Spoons too,” she said. “When she finally came around, she’d wake up in the middle of the night and then wake up my brother and me just so she could re-read us a bedtime story and re-tuck us in for bed, and then she’d have the audacity to snap at Coffee Spoons for not waking her up so she could have done it at the right time.

“But I didn’t put together that she was actually aware of it all until that last year. More like those last six months.”

Gadget took another sip of coffee, shutting her eyes to savor the flavor, then took a deep breath. And Turing’s skills as a Familiar let her read Gadget’s body language well enough to see that she was bracing herself.

“I was getting bullied at school for being an egghead, and Papa had messaged her, talking about getting back together again, only to ghost her, of course, and I was getting moody and lashing out and finally let her know what I thought of her constantly foisting everything off on Coffee Spoons. I’ll never forget how I yelled at her one time. ‘All you ever think of is yourself! I got beat up at school, somepony stole my glasses, and nopony was there for me but Coffee Spoons for the last two days! Why’d you even have foals if you didn’t want to take care of us?!’”

Gadget swallowed.

“And I, uh… I guess it sunk in. At least at first. She tried to do better. She was around a bit more. She stopped partying as much. I thought maybe she was making a comeback. But then one morning, while Coffee was taking us to school, she just locked herself in the bathroom, got into the pills, and…”

Turing watched as Gadget bit her lip and looked away, sucking a breath in through her nostrils. “Even though Coffee Spoons could see what she was doing, since he was plugged into the house systems, she was just too fast, and… and the paramedics just couldn’t save her.”

Turing wasn’t quite sure how to react. Gadget wasn’t her master, and she didn’t know her well, nor was she able to do a search on any of her information to settle on the optimal action. But she felt the need to do something, and so she simply reached out and put her hoof on Gadget’s.

“I am so sorry,” she said. “I did not wish to bring up such bad memories.”

Gadget managed to smile, blinking through the tears that had formed. “I appreciate that,” she said quietly. “But let me finish. I promised to tell you my story, and I will. Because here’s the kicker in all this:

“I was devastated, obviously. And while I don’t blame myself now, part of me did think that maybe what I’d said had made her do it. So I turned to the only pony who was around to comfort me: Coffee Spoons. But then, right after the funeral…”

Turing froze. And before Gadget even said it, she knew what had happened.

“He’d retired himself. Not a word of goodbye, not a note… he was just gone. Without Mama around, without a master, he just saw no point in going on. Not even taking care of her kids was enough to keep him going.

“And when the house systems that morning received the notification, the police just showed up, picked us up, and took us to my aunt’s house, and that was that. And when I asked about him, cried over him, or got angry about how he’d just left us behind, everypony looked at me like I was crazy!

“And that’s when I realized, for the first time, just what Familiars were in our society: disposable.”

Turing had no need to flinch. But despite being an artificial being, she nevertheless felt the need to flinch at that. And yet, she realized, as of late she’d had such thoughts herself, such as during her talk with Choco Mint. She’d put such thoughts out of mind, thinking it wasn’t proper for her as a Familiar, to entertain them. But to now hear an organic pony - one of the masters - say the same thing, those thoughts again bubbled to the surface.

“Familiars exist for our benefit,” Gadget continued. “They cook, they clean, they care, they do everything for us. Nopony ever has to be lonely. They love us so dearly that they can’t even go on without us. I loved Mama, make no mistake, for all her flaws, but even I didn’t love her so much that I’d kill myself without her. But Familiars do it all the time. They kill themselves by the thousands every single day, and somehow everypony is okay with it. Some ponies even seem to think it’s touching that these beings, who had no choice but to serve us and live with us, love us so much that they literally can’t live without us!”

Turing Test shifted in her seat. Part of her wanted to simply agree, but another part of her won out, and so she asked, “But doesn’t everypony deserve someone to love them? Because of us, all ponies can find happiness, comfort, and care. We are a gift from Celestia, and—”

“Turing, please, I’ve heard the company line,” Gadget said, cutting her off as she held up a hoof. “It’s the same lines I heard when I finally told my family that I didn’t want a Familiar. Again, and again, and again. And they were going to have me get one anyway when I turned 16, and so I literally had to learn the law myself, look up the proper procedures, and very deliberately deny getting one.

“And yet, every single month for the last several years, I have to tap into the system and deliberately deny that I want one, because Celestia just refuses to accept that I don’t want her damn gift!” she yelled, slamming her hooves on the table loud enough to have the sound echo through the room and out through the factory.

Turing was silent, noting how Gadget was seething, her forelimbs tense and her breathing heavy, and simply waited for her to calm down.

“S-sorry,” Gadget said, adjusting her glasses as she took up her coffee again. “It’s just… look, maybe this sounds harsh, maybe even blasphemous to a Familiar like you, but the thought of creating something to love you, something that has no choice but to love you, and letting it serve you… that’s not beautiful to me. That’s… that’s slavery. And I don’t want to be responsible for that. I don’t want it on my conscience. I don’t want a pony, even if they’re mechanical, to be born just to live and die for me. You’re not just simple A.I. You’re real. You think, you feel, you… well, you know better than I do, after all.” She chuckled.

Turing smiled. “Indeed I do. But that still does not explain why you have chosen to live like this.”

“Like… ‘this?’”

“Disconnected from the network. Isolated.”

Gadget smiled. “I guess once I saw through the pretty little lies about Familiars, the rest of it all just fell into place. Coffee Spoons may have helped out my mother, but he also just enabled her behavior. Familiars took the hard part of living out of our hooves, and Celestia watches us every hour of every day, tailoring our lives for maximum happiness. But if we’re all so happy, why are so many of us listless, on drugs or medication, and suicidal? Somehow we just got ‘happy’ confused with ‘comfortable,’ and it seems like nopony wants to upset the balance of things by asking if this really is as good as it gets.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just as messed up as everypony else,” she sighed, “but it feels like… like something’s wrong here, and it was impossible to figure anything out surrounded by ponies who are constantly dragging you into the Eternal Carnival or shoving it in your face about how you should be happy. I couldn’t seem to get any time, any space to just stop and think for a minute!

“So, I saved up my basic income, I sold a few of my custom-made toy machines, and I won a few competitions with other hobbyists, and I bought this old factory. I signed some forms, got my permits, and had it declared a Dead Zone. And why not? Celestia wants everypony to be happy, after all, and I said this would make me happy, and so they finally agreed and let me be.”

Gadget chugged down the last of her coffee, slamming it on the table with a satisfied sigh. “And that, Turing Test, is my story. I told you it was a long one.”

Turing Test nodded. “I have heard longer,” she said. “But thank you for sharing it.”

“And now, if you don’t mind,” Gadget said, getting up from her seat, “I’d like to hear yours. After I brew another cup of coffee, that is.” She turned toward her machine, this time skipping the convoluted Gold Brick design, before glancing back at her. “Oh, uh, I didn’t offer you any before because I… well, I assumed you wouldn’t want any, but—”

“It is all right,” Turing said, smiling as she raised a hoof. “I can eat or drink, of course. I have the synthetic organs to do so in order to help me blend in with other ponies. But I do not need to, nor does it serve any function for me. I believe you would benefit from the taste and the caffeine more than I.”

Gadget smiled back and nodded. “Fair enough,” she said and brewed her second cup.

Turing Test had grown strangely quiet during the few moments that Gadget had spent making her coffee. She had gone still, ceasing all the minor movements and subtleties that ordinarily allowed her to look like a normal pony, curiously looking more like a mannequin than a living thing.

“Turing?” Gadget asked.

Instantly, Turing began to move again, slowly turning to face her. “Yes?” she asked.

“Er… nothing,” Gadget said, taking her seat. “You just seemed lost in thought. Is that a thing you guys do?”

“‘You guys?’” Turing asked. “You mean Familiars?”

Gadget nodded.

“I suppose we do, at times. We are thinking, feeling creatures, as you said. And, in the absence of external stimuli or a clear and present need for our attention, I suppose we do let our thoughts wander.”

“Well, a bit for your thoughts?” Gadget offered.

Turing blinked. “I was…”

I was considering establishing an emergency remote connection to the main network in violation of the Dead Zone so my Third Eye could check on Maud’s grave. This is not the longest I have gone without checking in on her, but it is the longest that I have gone without being able to, and what if she has a visitor or her headstone needs cleaning or—

“...never mind,” she said at last. “It is nothing you need to worry about.”

Gadget frowned but took a sip of her coffee. “If you insist,” she said. “So, um… I feel a little guilty prying, but, um, since you agreed and all…”

“It is fine,” Turing said. She glanced around Gadget’s shop and spotted a small hologram emitter on her desk. She went to it and retrieved it. “If you would not mind, may I interface with this?”

“Go ahead,” Gadget said.

Turing reached into it with her transmitters, connecting the holo-emitter with her memory. A moment later, the image of an earth pony mare glowed in the air above it.

“That’s her?” Gadget asked, peering down at the small image. “That’s your master?”

Turing nodded, and a calm smile spread across her face. “That is her. That is Maud Pie, and she was indeed my master. She was truly the most wonderful pony in all the world.”

Gadget took in the sight of her. She was a simple earth pony with a slate-gray coat, a bluish-green frock, a purple mane and tail, and the most deadpan expression she’d ever seen on an organic pony, and she didn’t think the stillness of the image was responsible.

“Like you, she initially denied wanting a Familiar,” Turing explained. “She was so strong, so independent, and often found it difficult to talk to other ponies. She was solely concerned with her own interests, and data indicated a 97% chance of her being on the autism spectrum, despite never receiving a more formal diagnosis, which meant it was difficult for her to relate to others. She rarely smiled or changed the tone of her voice, to the point that a few ponies mistook her for a Familiar.”

Gadget gawked. “That’s… wow.”

“She certainly was different from most ponies,” Turing said, smiling at the image as it slowly rotated in the air. “So unconcerned with superfluous things. So committed to being herself in the face of pressure to assimilate. So passionate about what she loved.”

“And what did she love?” Gadget asked.

“Rocks, mostly.”

Gadget blinked. “S-sorry, what?”

“Rocks,” Turing replied, still smiling at the image. “Rocks, minerals… and stand-up comedy.”

“Oh!” Gadget cried enthusiastically. “She liked jokes? Can you tell me one?!”

Turing nodded. “In fact, I can even tell it to you in her voice…”

Turing's eyes went half-lidded and she wore a perfectly deadpan expression. From her mouth came a perfectly even, slightly deep mare’s voice:

“What is a rock’s favorite type of music?” she asked.

Gadget smirked. ‘Rock music,’ she thought, but decided to play along. “I don’t know, what is a rock’s favorite type of music?”

Turing blinked slowly. “Rocks lack the auditory senses to perceive music and the cognitive ability to appreciate it, so they have no preference for any type of music.”

Gadget narrowed her eyes. “Um… well, that’s—”

“But I hear Thallium is partial to heavy metal,” Turing finished in Maud’s voice.

Gadget groaned but had to chuckle despite herself, which caused Turing to wink at her knowingly.

“Not bad,” Gadget said, “but I’m starting to get an idea of why she didn’t get along with a lot of ponies.”

Turing nodded. “It was for that reason that her family insisted that she get a Familiar of her own. They believed that her total dedication to her studies of rocks and inability to relate to others would negatively impact her life. And Maud truly loved her family and did not want them to worry, so she agreed to receive a Familiar, even if she never really saw the point.”

Gadget was starting to see why Turing compared her to Maud, but kept her silence as Turing continued her story.

“The day I arrived at her home was the happiest day of my life,” Turing said. “At that time, she had gone out to live in a small cabin in the Western Badlands, far from Canterlot or any other city. It was in a barren plain of earth, one that had already been surveyed and mined for valuable resources, but she didn’t care: she wanted to go and research for herself. And so I was brought to her door, I knocked and waited for her to answer it. And when she did, I was there to greet her and say my oath:

“‘Hello, Master. I am your Familiar, and I was given life to serve your every wish.’” She smiled at the memory. “And when I raised my head again, Maud Pie simply said, ‘Okay.’”

Gadget tilted her head to the side. “Um…”

“Oh, but I could tell she was secretly excited! And a bit nervous. I could always tell what Maud Pie was thinking, even if nopony else could. Of course, I did not look as I do now. At that time, my appearance was much more mechanical, and my exterior was almost entirely metallic. Maud Pie preferred it that way: she wanted a friend who looked to be exactly what she was, with no illusions. And while she was reluctant to let me manage her affairs at first, she eventually grew to appreciate how I could handle the minor tasks in her life so that she could focus on going out and collecting samples, doing surveys, and exploring caves.”

Turing Test shut her eyes. “I would have done anything for her. Anything at all she asked of me, I would have done it. If she had told me to wait alone in a room for a thousand years, I would have. If she had told me to dig through a mountain with nothing but a tiny chisel, I would have. If she had asked me to die for her, I would have done that without a second thought. But she did not ask me to do those things. All she asked of me was to cook, to clean, and to help her carry and organize her things. And, of course, to listen.”

“Listen to what?” Gadget asked.

“Forgive me, Gadget,” Turing said, raising an eyebrow, “but if you had a Familiar, you would know. She wanted me to listen to her as she talked about her work, her studies, and her findings, from the smallest sample of extrusive basalt found in an unexpected place to her cataloging of a vein of kunzite she found in a cavern one day. Until she had me, nopony would ever listen to her talk for hours about such things. Ordinary ponies were bored by it, so she had to keep her passion to herself or else risk alienating them.

“But I could never be bored by her. I would listen to her calm, wonderful voice as she talked for hours on end, until she tired herself out, and then I would give her a simple meal and lead her to bed. And it was like that every day for years, only occasionally broken up by family gatherings with her sisters or moving to a different outpost to continue her research elsewhere. Every day was lovely, calm, and peaceful. There were no worries, no alarms, and no surprises.

“But no matter what, I was always by her side. I loved her so much… and even if she never asked for much, I was so very happy to serve her.”

Gadget nodded, even smiling right along with her, caught up in the wistful sound of her voice. But as Turing went quiet, Gadget reluctantly prodded her, “So… what happened?”

Turing slowly looked back at her, almost as if being brought out of a dream.

“Well, she insisted on going out and collecting samples on her own. And while the area was peppered with nanobots to prevent it from becoming a Dead Zone, which meant I could still keep my Third Eye on her, we were still very isolated. And one day there was a minor earthquake, nothing that would cause any major damage or disruption, of course. But she was in an older mine shaft, exploring as she always was, and the mine collapsed.”

Gadget’s lips parted. “Oh no,” she breathed.

“Much like your mother’s situation, I was able to witness the event but unable to arrive in time to help her. Her injuries were great and there was very little that I could do for her but try to remove the rocks that had covered her. I called for an ambulance, but I knew it would take time to reach us. And while I watched over her, pleading with her to stay awake, she finally asked something else of me…”

Turing smiled, locking eyes with Gadget. “She asked me to live. She thanked me, truly thanked me for all that I had done for her. She ignored me when I told her to conserve her energy, and said that she knew that most Familiars retired themselves after their masters passed, and that she did not want that for me. She said she wanted me to go on and live my own life, to try to be happy.

“It was, I knew, the last thing she would ever ask of me. And so I agreed. And then she smiled, closed her eyes, thanked me and... and then just never woke up."

Turing looked back to the hologram. Her voice had remained calm throughout her story, but there was something a strain in it now as she continued.

"And now that she is gone, I am trying to keep my promise to her.”

Gadget nodded slowly. “So that’s it… you’re still going on, out here living your life because she asked you to. And look at you now! Here you are, still living and learning new things and finding your own happiness in the Eternal Carnival!” Then she smirked. “Well, at least one of us is doing all right.”

But Turing Test shook her head, her smile fading. “No,” she said quietly. “That is where you are wrong. Maud Pie told me to live, and so I am. But no matter what I do, no matter what I try, I cannot seem to be happy.”

Gadget blinked. “Turing,” she breathed.

“Every day, every hour, I keep trying to do as she asked, and I keep failing. No matter how much I try to distract myself and immerse myself in the Eternal Carnival, I feel… nothing. I am just bored and miserable and all I really want is to have her back with me, and I can’t! Every fiber of my being is telling me to tend to her, but there’s nothing left for me to do but turn my Third Eye to her grave and keep vigil over her, and all I really want to do is just stop, just end, but to do that would be to break my promise. As I said, I would have died for her, if she'd asked. But instead, she asked me to live for her, and that is so much harder to do, and so I keep trying for her and all I do is fail again and again—”

Gadget suddenly rushed to her side, embracing her with both her forelegs and her mechanical arms, holding her close.

“Oh, you poor, poor thing,” Gadget whispered, holding her gently. “I’m so sorry I made you go through all that. I… I shouldn’t have asked.”

Familiars didn’t need touch to be comforted. But words helped. And so, perhaps with this genuine act of kindness, this all-too-real show of concern from an organic pony who really did seem to understand what she felt, Turing Test felt her burden lighten, if just slightly.

She slowly returned the hug. “It is all right,” she whispered back. “It has been a long time since I have truly told the whole story. I suppose there is nothing left but for me to keep trying, at least for another day, to do as Maud Pie asked.”

She drew back from Gadget and stood up. “You have been a very gracious host, and I thank you for your company and your story,” she said. “I will let you return to your work now, Gadget. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

As she turned to go, she heard Gadget cry, “W-wait!”

Turing turned back to her.

“Well, if… that is, if you’re having so much trouble finding a way to be happy on your own… maybe I can help!” She smiled, adjusting her glasses. “If you want, Turing, you could stay here.”

Turing paused to consider this proposal. She felt a sudden nagging from her Third Eye to leave the Dead Zone and resume her vigil, and this time it filled her with annoyance, and so she ignored it.

“I do not wish to impose,” she said.

Gadget shook her head, her messy mane swaying as she did so. “It’s no trouble! And hey, if nothing else, it might be nice for both of us to have somepony else to talk to, don’t you think?”

Turing thought about what waited for her outside the factory walls. Another evening alone at home? Going to catch the end of that stupid gallery opening? An insipid party tomorrow as she half-heartedly enticed a punch drunk stallion only to stonewall him for her own petty amusement?

It has often been said that the very definition of insanity is to try the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result, she realized. Perhaps it is time to try something different at last.

“Very well, Gadget,” she said. “If you’re offering to help, then I accept. I hope you will enjoy having me as your guest.”

“Great!” Gadget exclaimed, clapping her hooves together. “So, um, is there anything you’d like to do first?”

Turing tapped her chin as she thought for a moment, then walked over to Gadget’s bed, lifting it up and retrieving the manga she’d shoved there. “Perhaps we could start with a little light reading?” she asked with a smirk.

“Gah!” Gadget cried, once again blushing profusely as she snatched it back from her hooves. “Did Maud Pie encourage you to be such a jerk?!”

“No,” Turing said with a wink. “I had to learn that from the rest of you organics.”

That night, after Gadget had gone to bed, Turing Test went up to the roof. She was still in the Dead Zone and could not reach out into the outer network. Her Third Eye was still blind, though the urge to look in on Maud’s grave persisted.

Between the tall buildings, she caught just a sliver of light from the sky, the clouds illuminated by the white-hot glow of the Carnival as it raged on endlessly.

But in the dark and the quiet and the silence, she felt a strange sensation that hadn’t visited her in what felt like ages.

For once in a very long time, she looked to tomorrow with anticipation, not dread.

With hope that maybe tomorrow would be better than the day before.

To be continued...

Author's Note

Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead

No Surprises - Radiohead

Weird Fishes, Part 1

Gadget’s eyes fluttered open as she turned over in her bed. She looked up and saw Turing Test standing over her.

“Ah, good,” Turing said with a smile, “you’re awake. And just in time too: breakfast is almost ready.”

Gadget blinked. “Breakfast?” she asked. She sat up and wiped her eyes before fumbling around for her glasses. “But I… the machine…”

“I moved your chain-reaction device’s components out of the way so I could access your kitchen area downstairs,” Turing replied. “But I was careful not to displace anything and can easily put it back exactly as you had it, if you wish.”

Gadget was still blinking at her, and Turing surmised that she hadn’t fully awakened yet.

“Did you not want breakfast?” Turing asked slowly. “Or… or did you not wish for me to make breakfast?”

Comprehension finally returned to Gadget and she adjusted her glasses, sliding them up her muzzle. “No, uh… no, that’s fine,” she replied, smiling back at her at last. “I just didn’t expect that. But thank you!”

Turing nodded. “I will be downstairs. Your meal should be ready momentarily, so please join me soon.”

Turing left the room and trotted back down through the layers of walkways to a small space on the ground floor where Gadget had set up her “kitchen,” which was mainly a collection of appliances arranged in a rectangular area, despite there being no walls to designate it as a separate room. A table with a singular chair was at the center of it all, and it was on this table that Turing Test began to place the dishes.

Gadget arrived a few moments later. Turing noted that she did not have her mechanical arms equipped, which gave her an altogether different appearance. Last night, she’d seemed fluid and dynamic in her motions with the way her arms and hands were in constant motion. Even when she’d spoken, her mechanical hands weaved and bobbed in time with her voice’s cadence. Without them, she looked… smaller, and almost as if she were a different pony entirely.

“So, what are we having?” Gadget asked.

“I examined the contents of your refrigerator and pantry,” Turing said as she jostled a skillet on the stove, “and made a determination of your most commonly consumed items. I also guessed from your explanation of your Gold Brick machine’s mishaps that you like eggs. I hope they are to your liking.”

Turing brought the pan over to Gadget’s plate and let a pair of golden-yolked eggs, fried sunny-side up, slide onto her plate. She then returned with a smaller plate with toasted sourdough bread slathered with butter and marmalade, half of a grapefruit dusted with a bit of salt and sugar, and a steaming mug of black coffee.

Gadget’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she breathed. “I do like all these things, though I usually eat them separately.”

“Oh!” Turing exclaimed. “Is it too much? You may eat what you like, of course—”

Gadget shook her head and snatched up a slice of toast. “No, no, I actually could use the extra energy today,” she said. “After all—” she took a bite of toast “—I gogga log ob worb ta do.”

Turing smiled and, in the absence of another chair, pulled up a stool from one of the nearby workstations to take a seat across from Gadget at the table.

“If you require assistance,” Turing said, “I would be glad to assist you.”

Gadget swallowed, washing down the first bites of breakfast with her coffee. “Well, you seem pretty chipper today,” she said, smiling back at her. “Last night you, uh… well, never mind.”

“I suppose,” Turing said, “that I simply enjoyed making breakfast for somepony else. Obviously, I do not need to eat, and other ponies have their own familiars or automated kitchens. So this is the first occasion in a fairly long time that I have been able to make breakfast for another. I used to do it every day…”

Her smile faded slightly.

“...for Maud Pie.”

Gadget paused mid-bite. “Well… thank you, Turing Test,” she said. “I really do appreciate it.”

Turing nodded. “You are welcome, Gadget,” she said. “So, what work will you be doing today?”

Gadget wiped the crumbs from her mouth, glancing back out at the floor of the factory. “I… well, y’know, maybe I should put all that aside.”

Turing tilted her head to the side. “What for? It seemed like you had plans for today.”

“I did, I did,” Gadget said, nodding, but then she leaned forward, placing her hooves on the table. “But, honestly, I feel like I ought to try to do something with you instead.”

Turing blinked. “I have no plans, Gadget,” she said. “So there is no need to worry.”

“Well, what I mean is that… well, I feel like I’m the one who should be helping you,” she said. “After what you told me last night, I really do feel like I should do whatever I can to make you feel better. So what do you do for fun?”

Turing Test considered the question for a moment. “If you are asking what I have been doing to occupy my time,” she began, “then the answer is a variety of things. I have attempted to join the Eternal Carnival through activities including but not limited to dancing, cinema, art, gambling, sports, and sexual promiscuity.”

Gadget blushed. “W-wait, what?”

Turing asked, “You wish me to repeat that list of activities?”

Gadget shook her head. “No, no, just… that last one caught me off guard.” She forced a weak smile. “I kinda thought you guys… I mean robots… I mean Familiars didn’t…”

Turing nodded slowly. “I see,” she said. “It is not a topic mentioned often, but some of us are physically capable of such intimacy. Though my original form was not, my current form since becoming a freemare is. And many other Familiars are capable in their original state. In such a state, I am capable of experiencing the same physical sensations as an organic lifeform.”

Turing paused, noting that Gadget’s blush had deepened, but she was still listening attentively, so Turing continued: “However, we lack the biological urge to reproduce, and the hormonal rush that accompanies such an action. Thus, most of us simply don’t care for it. My own experiments thus far have proven unsatisfying, in fact. For both myself and my partners.”

Gadget squirmed. “You’re surprisingly up-front about this,” she muttered, taking a bite of her egg.

Turing said nothing for a moment as she observed Gadget’s reaction. Given her youth, her lifestyle, and her almost prudish reactions, there was a distinct possibility: “Ah. Would I be correct in assuming that you are a virgin, then?”

Gadget nearly choked on her egg, her blush spreading to her whole face. “Th-that’s nopony’s business but my own!” she sputtered, slamming her hoof on the table. “Anyway, why are we even talking about this?!”

Turing smirked. “Because you broached the topic,” she replied. “Do you wish to change the subject?”

“Yes!” Gadget snapped. Then she shook her head. “I mean, no! No, I want to go back to what we were actually talking about: what you do for fun!”

“Not other ponies, apparently,” Turing quipped, drawing a glare from Gadget. “But to complete my answer: I do not, in fact, find any of those activities ‘fun.’ That is my problem: nothing is fun.”

Gadget sank in her seat, her ears drooping as her anger faded. “Nothing?” she asked. “Nothing at all?”

Turing nodded. “I do enjoy music,” she said with a shrug. “But I cannot simply listen to music for all of my free time. In truth, cooking this breakfast for you and seeing your enjoyment of it has been the most satisfying thing I have done recently. I suppose it is just part of who I am: as a Familiar, I am programmed to find satisfaction in serving a master.”

Gadget’s expression soured. “Please don’t call me that,” she said.

Turing held up a hoof. “I did not mean that you are my master,” she said. “But rather that all organic ponies are our masters—”

“Just go with ‘organic ponies,’” Gadget said, cutting her off. “Or ‘organics.’ But please, don’t use that word. Especially not with me. There are no ‘masters’ here, Turing. You’re your own pony, and you’re free to do what you want.”

“Would that not mean that I am free to use any terminology I wish?” Turing asked, giving her another smirk.

Gadget rolled her eyes.

“Well, if it disturbs you,” Turing continued, “then I will cease to use the term. And perhaps you are right… perhaps it will improve my mindset to change my way of thinking about myself in relation to… ‘organics.’”

Gadget smiled. “Glad that’s settled,” she said.

“But to carry on our conversation,” Turing said, “since nothing seems to have brought me satisfaction thus far, I thought I would instead observe you and your activities. After all, your lifestyle seems to deviate from the norms of society, so perhaps I can gain some insight from joining you. And, as stated, I do enjoy assisting others.

“So, please, continue with your plans for today. I wish to join you and learn more about you. For now, that is what I would enjoy. What I would find ‘fun.’”

Gadget grinned, then began to eat with gusto. “Well, in that -nomf- case,” she mumbled, “let’s get started!”

As it turned out, the work Gadget had in mind was working more on the strange hovercraft she’d shown Turing Test the previous day, the so-called “Blues Drive Monster.” The craft was apparently close to completion, and it was Gadget’s intent to install a few final components and test a few things before actually flying it herself in a real competition.

Of course, Turing had asked what competition she had in mind, and Gadget’s response had surprised her:

“The big race tomorrow!”

Turing had stared back at her for a few moments. “You intend to race this tomorrow?” she asked. “Should you not do more extensive testing on it?”

Gadget had hauled herself up onto the top of the machine with her mechanical limbs - now attached - and she was now looking at some of the circuitry and tubing beneath the top panels of the machine.

“I’ve actually raced with it a time or two before,” Gadget said. “But it didn’t do as well as expected. I already know most of its capabilities, so now I just need to test how the new components integrate into it.”

“What sort of components?” Turing asked.

“A new P-Fusion engine with 25% more output, for one,” she replied, tightening a bolt with one mechanical hand while testing the conductivity of another component with a multimeter with another hand. “And an additional thaumatrium injector in case I need a boost of speed on a straightaway for another. Not to mention some of the new neural interfaces to cut down on response time by a few extra nanoseconds.”

The Blues Drive Monster was vaguely squid-shaped. The forward-pointing cockpit was narrow and cone-like. The middle section contained most of the machinery in a ring-like structure which included the fuel, the engine, and the various other parts that would keep it aloft. At the back of it were four long, slender fins that could each move independently of the others. These fins were the main propulsion for the craft and fired energized blasts of plasma along their length to both achieve incredible speed and maintain control even in tight turns. And, of course, the undercarriage was lined with circular hover pads that would keep it aloft.

“Toss me that soldering iron, would you?” Gadget called down to Turing.

Turing found the tool and tossed it up. Gadget caught it without hardly a glance. Those mechanical limbs of hers were incredibly responsive, which was all the more surprising given that they were custom-made.

To Turing’s surprise, the limbs were connected to a central unit that was vaguely shaped like a backpack (or perhaps a saddle) which actually connected into her nervous system through tiny nodes that Gadget had implanted into her own torso. The arms slid easily through slits Gadget had made in her jacket. Gadget had actually seemed a bit embarrassed when Turing Test had watched her remove her jacket that morning to put the device on, and even more so when Turing had examined one of the arms with her hoof.

“H-hey, easy there!” Gadget had exclaimed as Turing had slid her hoof down the limb.

“Oh,” Turing said, dropping it immediately. “My apologies. I assure you that I was handling it with care.”

“No, it’s just… see, in addition to the neural interfaces, I installed a converter that taps into my earth pony magic. It allows me to feel things through the arms as if they were an extension of my body.”

Turing tilted her head at that. “Such connectivity is impressive,” she said, “but rather impractical. Mechanical limbs already exist that preserve 90% of the original sensation but eliminate pain. With what you describe, they would be even more sensitive. Possibly even more so than your biological limbs. Aren’t you worried about accidentally hurting yourself?”

Gadget shrugged. “I like to feel close to my work. Besides, I can automatically disconnect if something were to go wrong.” She chuckled. “Actually, one time I got Back Lefty caught in an industrial shredder. That hurt about worse than anything else I’ve ever felt for the one second it took before I disconnected. After that, well… I guess I’m just not afraid of a little pain. Or even a lot of it.”

Turing nodded slowly. “That is very brave of you.”

“That, or maybe I’m just too stubborn to know better,” Gadget laughed. “Though, I have to admit, Back Lefty never has been quite the same since then.”

She glanced back at her rear left mechanical hand, which then gave her the finger in response.

Back in the present, Turing was tasked with checking the internal machinery of the Blues Drive Monster. Gadget had at first done everything, stating that it was against the rules of the race to build anything with the assistance of an A.I. - which included Turing, obviously - but relented when Turing complained that she genuinely wanted to help. After all, she said, inspecting the craft for safety and possible issues didn’t qualify as “building.” Indeed, it would help her save some time in adding the new components.

Turing peered closely in the dark compartment behind the cockpit, surrounded by the ring of machinery. From outside the craft, Gadget’s music played over the speakers that were suspended above the factory floor.

Today’s Trot Sawyer
he gets high on you
And the space he invades
he get by on you…

“You seem to enjoy a lot of older music!” Turing called loudly as Gadget worked outside.

“Oh, yeah!” Gadget shouted back, pausing in her work momentarily. “One of the few things I did get from Papa. He left a lot of his old music behind when he took off, and I think Mama kept it out of spite. Er, is it bothering you?”

“No, not at all!” Turing replied, turning back to her inspection. “As stated, I rather enjoy music. Ah… there is a gasket in here that seems a bit worn. While not critical, you may wish to replace it.”

“Perfect, thanks! Make a note of it, and I’ll get to it after this!”

Turing Test leaned her head into the tight space between the machinery. While most of the components were pre-made machinery, the configuration was all Gadget’s doing. And a few of the pieces were clearly bespoke works of machining that Gadget had most likely done herself.

“I had meant to ask you earlier,” Turing called out again, “what is it that fascinates you about machines?”

“Huh?!” Gadget called back. “I didn’t hear that! Say again?”

“I asked you what it is that fascinates—”

“Hang on, I’m not hearing you at all!” Gadget shouted. “I’ll be right there!”

The young mare swung down from the top of the machine, sliding over the windshield before entering the cockpit. She trotted up to Turing, lifting the tinted safety goggles she’d been wearing to weld.

“Sorry, you were - oh!”

Turing glanced back and saw that Gadget’s eyes had gone wide at the sight of Turing Test bent over the machinery, her flank protruding from the tight machinery. Those same eyes briefly glanced down, clearly checking out her rump, hind legs, and fetlocks.

Increased blood flow detected, Turing’s systems told her. Change noted in pupils and breathing pattern. Most likely cause is physical attraction.

It was a reaction she knew well, but it was surprising to see it in Gadget, given that her interest in her had seemed platonic up until this point. Still, other than Gadget displaying a reflexive attraction, it was not a sign of anything more, so she chose to ignore it for now and slid back out of the machinery to speak to Gadget face-to-face.

“I was asking about your interest in machines,” Turing said.

“Well, that’s a good question,” Gadget said, recovering from her moment of fluster. She rubbed her chin with one of her mechanical hands as she thought about it. “I mean, machines are all over the place nowadays, and we just sort of take them for granted, you know? And I mean ‘we’ as in organics. I don’t imagine you take it for granted.”

Turing shrugged. “I suppose that I am so used to interacting with the network and other machines that I do not really consider that aspect of things. And I think of myself as, well, myself before I think of myself as a machine.”

“That makes sense,” Gadget said. “Well, it started with a general interest in science. Knowing how things work is just wonderful to me, and so I got interested in biology and chemistry and other things when I was little… but then it occurred to me that machines, the amazing things all around us, were things I could literally study, take apart, and build for myself!”

Turing raised an eyebrow at this. “You mentioned an earlier interest in meeting a Familiar,” she said. “You were not planning to take me apart, I hope.”

Gadget shook her head vigorously. “No! No, of course not, I would never! I mean, I would love to study how Familiars work, but… well, obviously that would have to be with their consent. And so much of what makes Familiars work is classified knowledge, and it is expressly forbidden to build your own Familiar so, well—”

Turing held up a hoof. “I believe we are getting off track,” she said. “But if I were to guess, your interest in Familiars stems from your previous interest in machinery in general combined with your new concerns that arose with your mother’s Familiar’s retirement.”

Gadget nodded solemnly. “You’re machines, but you’re not like any other machines out there. I want to get to know you, and not just what makes you tick… nopony ever seems to care what you want, what you think about, what you’re really like. They’re just happy that Familiars are there to please them. But I think there’s more to you than that. And you’re proving me right.”

Turing stared back at her, then looked away. But I am not certain that I am truly like the others… if I were, would I still feel the way I do?

“Turing? Are you okay?”

Turing put on a smile as she turned back to her. “It was just a stray thought to process,” she replied. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Sure. Anyway, let me finish what I’m working on topside, and then I can look at the components you found.”

“I will finish my inspection as well,” Turing said. “I have almost completed my assigned checklist.”

“Great! After that, we can start checking the systems! With your help, I’m pretty sure I can optimize every last bit of this baby!”

Turing nodded and let Gadget return to her work as she continued her own.

She lifted a piece of tubing gently, tapping it to listen for any possible obstructions in the oxygen flow. Satisfied, she was about to move on to another component when the previous song ended and it moved on to the next on Gadget’s playlist.

She froze the instant she heard the telltale acoustic guitar riff.

It is just a song, she told herself. There is no need to react.

She moved on to the next component.

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December…

Her Third Eye almost instinctively reached out… only to find no pathway forward in this Dead Zone. In this cavern of digital darkness, she was blind. And panic suddenly surged up from within her.

“Okay, Turing, I’ve just about got it,” Gadget was saying. “How about you? Are you finished yet?”

Turing backed out of the fuselage of the craft, scrambling out of the cockpit, her Third Eye still searching around blindly.

I am alone…

“Turing?” Gadget asked, hearing Turing test gallop down the metal walkway, moving at top speed toward the stairs. “Wait, Turing! Where are you going?!”

Turing Test ran to the door, practically wrenching it open as she slammed the release button on the door lock to the exit.

Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow

And as she ran out of the factory, she heard Gadget frantically calling for her even as the music of the first verse culminated in the words she knew so well:

I am a rock
I am an island!

She ran with the urgency of a suffocating diver clawing to the ocean’s surface. She ran with the desperation of an animal as it felt the hot breath of its predator on the back of its neck. She ran with all thoughts and considerations momentarily tossed away as the Third Eye took over, consuming all else in its voracious hunger, starved for so long but denied no more.

She reached the border of the Dead Zone and felt herself reconnect with the global network, her data syncing and her systems re-engaging and, at last, her Third Eye landed on the sight of Maud Pie’s grave.

She slumped to the ground, both out of relief and, she realized, defeat. The Third Eye had won. The simple sight of her master, still dead, her grave still well-kept and clean, filled her with comfort but also the realization that the gap in her vigil had changed nothing.

All it had taken was the sound of Maud Pie’s favorite song to tear away any progress she made in her attempt to find a reprieve or a new cause to live for.

Is all of this… just pointless?

“Turing?!”

Turing Test slowly stood. She’d of course heard Gadget galloping after her, but so consuming was her Third Eye’s desire that she’d failed to process the world around her.

“Turing,” Gadget gasped, still catching her breath. “Oh thank goodness… you’re still here…”

Turing turned to face her and saw that Gadget’s eyes had filled with tears.

“Gadget,” she said softly. “What is wrong?”

“You… you just ran off like that!” she cried. “I didn’t know what to think! I thought maybe I’d said something wrong or… or maybe you’d just decided I wasn’t worth your time, or… well, I don’t know!”

Turing smiled.

“It’s not funny!” Gadget shrieked, and Turing’s smile vanished.

“You thought I was not coming back,” Turing surmised. “You thought I was going to leave and request retirement.”

Gadget wiped her tears away on the sleeve of her jacket. “Well, after last night, can you blame me?!” she demanded, gasping through sudden sobs. “The way you were talking… hearing your story… Turing, we’ve barely gotten to know each other, and… and I j-just want a chance!”

“A chance at what?” Turing asked.

“A chance to convince you not to kill yourself!” Gadget shouted. “If there’s a chance I can help, then let me try, at least! Please!”

Turing closed her eyes, affecting a sigh. “Gadget, I appreciate your concern, but I was not going to do anything so rash,” she said. “Not yet. That song that was playing in your workshop just happened to be one of Maud Pie’s favorites, and it filled me with a strong desire to check in on her.”

“Check in on her? But… Turing, she’s—”

“To check her grave, I mean,” Turing clarified. “It is all I can do for her now. And though I know it is futile, it is the only way to even remotely satisfy my need to serve her. I realize that may sound pathetic, at least to an organic, but it is the way I am.

“Still, I am committed to trying to find alternative ways for me to be happy, as we discussed. So there is no need to be concerned. I would not simply abandon this course of action without notifying you first.”

Gadget heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay… yeah, okay,” she said, placing a hoof on her chest as she caught her breath.

Turing was about to step back into the Dead Zone, to return to the factory, but she paused for a moment. “Gadget… before I return with you, I’d like to know why you are so concerned about this. It is ultimately my decision, after all. And you have known me for less than a day. Even should I choose retirement, the only one who would regret it would be myself for breaking my promise to Maud Pie. Familiars retire all the time, after all… so why would you, as an organic, become so upset?”

Gadget gawked at her. “Turing… ugh, do you really not get it? Familiar or not, you’re still a pony, and that means you deserve happiness too. And even if I just met you, I couldn’t just let somepony give up on life again. Not when I could do something about it.”

Turing stared back at her. Her mother, she realized. Despite what she says, part of her wonders if she could have prevented her mother’s death. And now, perhaps, she believes that she can atone for it by saving mine. I see now.

“Am I not… a burden to you?” she asked.

Gadget shook her head emphatically and seized her by the shoulders with her hooves. “No,” she said simply. “Never a burden. I want you here, Turing. Please don’t think otherwise, even for a second.”

Turing let Gadget’s hooves slide from her shoulders, and she stepped back into the Dead Zone, the sea of information subsiding and her Third Eye again going black.

“I apologize for making you worry,” she said. “If we have both finished our emotional outbursts, I would love to help you run those tests that you mentioned. After all, you do want to win your race tomorrow, correct?”

Gadget laughed, still sniffling, but gradually calming down from her outburst. “Yeah, that would be great,” she said. “And I’ve got somepony dropping off the exterior panels a bit later. It should look awesome by the time we’re finished, so I don’t see any issue with letting you help me to install them. That is, if you want to.”

“Of course,” Turing said, walking past her. “Just do not let me catch you checking out my flank while I am doing it.”

She smirked as Gadget sputtered in protest, her mechanical arms flailing as she followed Turing with a flurry of hurried excuses…

To be continued...

Author's Note

Weird Fishes / Arpeggi (From the Basement) - Radiohead

Weird Fishes, Part 2

The metal plating Gadget used to finish the craft’s outward appearance was thin and lightweight and was the deep blue color of cobalt. After helping Gadget to apply it to the now-aptly-named Blues Drive Monster, Turing Test stood back with her to take in the sight of it.

“Oh, Turing, it’s just perfect!” Gadget exclaimed, giddily bouncing on her hooves. “I just know it’ll be a big hit at the race tomorrow!”

“I must admit that I have never seen anything like it,” Turing remarked. She smiled at the finished craft, feeling rather pleased with her own contributions to it. She’d mentally noted other ways to improve the overall speed and handling of the craft, but Gadget had insisted that any modifications other than the ones she’d researched would be breaking the “no A.I.” rule. For her own part, Turing couldn’t figure out what difference it made if she was helping with the actual construction or was just advising her on how safe or efficient the various components were. But, like any good Familiar, she was used to the idea that sometimes you simply had to defer to what the masters wanted.

Organics. Not “masters.”

She nodded to herself, noting that Gadget’s term was starting to feel right, though it was still strange to override her programmed impulse to refer to all organic ponies from the frame of servitude.

“Since you have apparently finished it,” Turing said, turning to Gadget, who was still staring lovingly at her creation, “may I now ask about one of the components of the hovercraft? I attempted to ask earlier, but you were working and insisted that you did not want any suggestions… which, for the record, I was not going to give.”

“Oh,” Gadget said, looking away sheepishly. “Er, sorry. But yes, what’s your question?”

“I noticed that you have integrated a neural interface network into the machine’s controls,” Turing said. “I surmised that this is so you may connect them through your mechanical arms at key points to better extend your control. Is that correct?”

Gadget nodded.

“What I cannot understand, however,” Turing continued, “is why the network also has sensors placed around the craft. The cockpit already contains numerous gauges to provide data on how each system is functioning, from altitude, to speed, to power output, and so on. Why would neural sensory data be useful?”

“Ah!” Gadget exclaimed, breaking into a broad grin. “Well, since my arms are connected to my earth pony magic, I can feel sensations through them, but it’s too much to extend that through the whole ship. But with some traditional neural sensors connecting the outer hull of the ship to my arms, I can extend my sensation through the whole thing!”

Turing stared back at her. “But why?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?!” Gadget cried. She suddenly launched herself over the railing, using her arms to catapult herself onto the top of the craft. “With the extra sensors, this whole craft will feel as if it were part of my own body!” She flattened herself against the hull, gently stroking the smooth metal plating. “I’ll be able to feel the wind, the inertia, the turbulence, and every shift and bump as if I were the one flying, not just piloting it from the confines of the cockpit.”

Turing Test watched her as she rubbed her cheek against it.

“Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I-it’s not like that!” Gadget exclaimed, getting to her hooves. “It’s just that… well, think about it! Pegasi get to fly around as much as they want, feeling the wind against their coat, taking every sharp turn and loop and curve against their bodies. But as an earth pony, I can never know exactly what that feels like.

“But this way, I can get a little taste of what it’s like to ride the wind, not be bound to the earth as a slave to gravity!”

Turing Test tilted her head to the side. “But you are not a pegasus, Gadget,” she observed, feeling a bit silly for pointing out the obvious. “Why would you want to feel like one?”

Gadget launched herself back to the walkway, pushing herself muzzle-to-muzzle with Turing. “Why not?” she demanded, a crazed grin on her face. “Why let the circumstances of my birth determine who I am or what I can do?! I already overcame my lack of unicorn magic with these arms, so why let a lack of wings keep me from taking to the air? To feel something new, to experience something new, to be something new is… is incredible!”

Turing said nothing as she stared into Gadget’s eyes, her muzzle pressed against Gadget’s as the mare panted excitedly, feeling the warm breath from her nostrils against her own.

“You are standing very close, Gadget,” she said pointedly.

Gadget blinked, suddenly realizing what she was doing, and backed away abruptly. “S-sorry,” she said, clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses. “I just got a bit carried away.”

Turing smiled gently. “It is fine,” she said. “Though I feel the need to ask again if you are sure that you are not some sort of mad scientist.”

Gadget stuck her tongue out at her. “I am perfectly sane, thank you very much!” she said. “I even have a certificate to prove it!”

Turing narrowed her eyes when she realized Gadget wasn’t joking.. “Wait… why do you have such a thing? Where would you even get one?”

“Oh, there was just some misunderstanding back in the Vanhoover Sector when I developed an obsession with eliminating a pesky blue puckwudgie that kept breaking my robots and— you know, never mind, it’s a long story!” She then raised an eyebrow as she looked back at Turing. “Besides, there’s nothing crazy about wanting to be something other than what you were born as. After all, Turing… isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Turing froze, the snappy comeback she’d prepared dying on the vine as she realized that Gadget was, in a way, right: a Familiar without a master was, in fact, a contradiction of terms.

She shook her head. “No, that is… after all, I am only here because Maud Pie asked me to be.”

“You ever think that maybe that’s the problem?” Gadget asked quietly. “Maybe you should stop thinking about this whole ‘being alive’ thing in begrudging terms. Maybe you ought to consider an opportunity to experience something new. Look forward to what you might see tomorrow instead of dreading it.”

Turing Test affected a sigh. “It is not as easy as you say, Gadget,” she said. “If it were so easy to simply forget one’s sorrows, everypony, even organic or not, would do so. I cannot simply ‘chin up’ and stop being depressed.”

Gadget held up a hoof. “I know, I know, and that’s not what I’m saying,” she said. “I just meant that keeping a positive outlook might help, and that being something different might not be so crazy after all. I’m… I’m saying that there’s nothing wrong with you, Turing Test. It’s okay to feel the way you do.”

Turing’s eyes widened. It was strange to hear Gadget say it out loud, but it nonetheless was shocking and vindicating to hear.

She smiled. “I appreciate that you think so,” she said.

“Well, you’re welcome!” Gadget said, returning the smile. “Now, I need to make arrangements to transport this thing to the track tomorrow, so I’ll need to re-establish a limited connection to the outside network. You won’t notice a difference in the ambient signals, but if there’s something you need…”

Turing hesitated but then shook her head.

“Okay, just thought I’d ask,” Gadget said, turning away. Then she paused and asked, “Hey, um, one more thing: you said you were ‘depressed.’ Can robots get depressed?”

Turing considered this. “We are capable of feeling every emotion that you can,” she said. “So I do not see why depression should be any different.”

“Ever think that maybe you ought to get treated for it?” she asked.

Turing rolled her eyes. “How would I do that? Pop down to the local pharmacy and get a prescription for Robo-Prozak? Drugs don’t work on artificial creatures, Gadget.”

“That’s…” Gadget trailed off, pursing her lips as she stroked her chin with one mechanical hand. “Hmm, fair point, but if…”

She trotted off without another word, leaving Turing alone with the large craft suspended before her.

I wonder, she considered to herself, were such a ‘treatment’ available, would I even take it? To stop feeling sad would be… would that not be the same as to stop mourning Maud Pie?

She stopped considering the question, unprepared as she was to consider the answers.

I should do what Gadget suggested, she told herself. Try to look forward. Think about tomorrow’s race and find ways to help her. Perhaps I should consider what to make her for dinner.

As much as she told herself that she didn’t need to serve Gadget, in the end it was what gave her comfort, and so she decided that it was as much a want as it was a need, and that was forward progress enough for the day.

The next day, the pair of them were in the front cabin of an automated trailer. The Blues Drive Monster had been strapped to the back and they were carried back up through the city, joining the steady, regulated streams of traffic above Canterlot. The path took them further and further from the city’s core until, eventually, they were zooming over the industrial sectors, the massive faceless manufacturing plants and power stations occupied by nothing but worker A.I. automata that hummed along like insects at Celestia’s command.

Then, after a time, the buildings began to thin out, and they were above the endless expanses of fields, filled with identical acres of crops grown en masse for the teeming population. Those fields were crisscrossed with irrigation lines and tended by tiny drones that pruned and harvested their bounty.

But eventually, even those gave way to the wilderness. Forests, still untouched and pristine, at least as much as such a thing could be in modern times, stretched out and blanketed the rolling hillsides. Shallow rivers snaked through green valleys and sparkled in the sunlight that traced down their lengths as Turing and Gadget flew overhead.

“Is this racetrack in another city, Gadget?” Turing asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” Gadget asked, emerging from her own thoughts as she turned away from the window.

“I had anticipated that this race would take place in the city. Perhaps at a designated track… or, I considered, in another unpopulated area of the city. Many of the roads are still intact and would be suitable for racing.”

“Interesting thought, Turing, but no,” Gadget said, grinning. “We’re heading to somewhere more remote, away from the cities entirely.”

Turing nodded and turned back to the view outside the windows. Remote, she thought to herself. It sounds like something Maud Pie would have enjoyed…

Her Third Eye instantly looked out before she was even able to realize what she was doing. Out of the city though they were, she was connected to the global network nonetheless, as countless nodes orbited overhead or were placed in hidden towers atop hills. And, thus freed, she found herself glancing over to Maud’s grave in the brief moment she thought about it.

I just want to stay in this moment, flying above the world, she told herself, even as she inspected the grave, noting the flowers that had been placed at the headstone. But I cannot stop thinking about Maud Pie as well… what would she want? To enjoy this experience? Surely, she would not want me to forget about her. She cared enough for me to live, so…

She again put troublesome questions out of mind, pulling her Third Eye back. Focus on the moment. Be here, now.

She kept silent for the rest of the ride until the trailer began to slow and descend and Gadget eagerly exclaimed, “We’re almost there!”

The area in question was an open field bordered by trees and bisected by a dirt road. The field was filled with ponies who were setting up their own racing machines or unloading them from other trailers. In all, there were eight different vehicles, each being attended by a small crew as they did one last check before the race. Several of them looked up and waved warmly as Gadget’s trailer set down in an open area on one side of the valley.

“Turing, welcome to the southern edge of Meadowbrook Marshland!” Gadget said, popping open the door of the trailer and leaping out. “Give me a hoof unloading the Blues Drive Monster, will you?”

Turing nodded and stepped out as well. As she looked around at the various racing crews, she was struck by the variety of ponies around her. Some were pristinely coiffed unicorns attended by a small army of serving drones, while others were grungy-looking ponies in faux leather jackets with wild, unkempt manes. Some carried proud, ostentatious team banners while others, like Gadget, carried nothing but their vehicles.

But with the merest of glances, Turing noticed that at least half of the racers had brought their Familiars with them. She realized that this was the first time that she’d been out in public with Gadget and hadn’t properly considered how to identify herself. She supposed she could attempt to pass as a normal organic pony, or simply admit what she was. Pretending to be Gadget’s Familiar was out of the question, of course, as at least one of the ponies here would likely know that Gadget had denied Celestia’s gift (if they were indeed Gadget’s friends, that is).

Plus, she realized, the thought of pretending to be another’s Familiar was utterly disgusting. To pretend to be an organic pony was a lie of convenience… to say that you belonged to another felt like an insult to one’s true master.

This was, of course, just a matter of what she would tell the organic ponies. The Familiars, however, already knew what she was. Just as Coco Pommel had known her.

She decided to get that part of the situation out of the way.

“To all Familiars in the area,” she said, transmitting a signal to the others, “please be advised that I am a masterless Familiar. I am accompanying the pony known as Gadgette F. Giroux, but she is aware of what I am. I do not plan to significantly engage with your masters and request that you not inform them of my nature until Gadgette F. Giroux has presented me to them.”

The request was merely that - a request - and there was no guarantee that they would comply. However, a flurry of responses that were variations on “Understood,” came through, and though a few requested additional information, which she granted, it seemed that the Familiars there would respect her privacy.

“Gadget!” a stallion’s voice cried.

Turing and Gadget both looked in the direction of the voice and saw a light blue unicorn stallion in a faux leather jacket and a neatly combed black mane trotting over to them.

“Champ!” Gadget exclaimed back, and rushed over to meet him. “I was hoping you’d make it to this race!”

“Well, I had a bunch of other projects down at the studio, but I got enough of them done to make it here!” he said, putting out his hoof. “You ready to do this?”

Gadget grinned and loudly bumped his hoof with her own. “You know I am!”

Turing walked over and Gadget turned and gestured to her with one mechanical hand. “Turing, come here and meet Champ Umahara!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Turing Test said bowing politely to him. “My name is Turing Test, and I’m a friend of Gadget’s.” She waited for his response, hoping her neutral response didn’t invite more questions.

Mr. Umahara raised his eyebrows, but smiled nonetheless as he turned to Gadget. “Well, how about that!” he laughed. “Gadget, the solo act, brought a friend? Forget the race, this is the most exciting thing to happen today!”

“Sh-shut up!” Gadget said, looking away with a blush. “Turing Test is… um…”

Then Gadget froze. If she’d had a plan for introducing Turing Test, she’d forgotten it in the moment, though Turing suspected that she had forgotten to think of a good cover story as well.

“Wait wait wait,” Umahara said, tapping his forehead. “Let me guess… with a name like ‘Turing Test,’ you must be some kind of programmer or engineer. You’re an expert on A.I. machines, right?”

Gadget whipped her head around to Turing Test to see her response, her smile growing more forced.

“Yes, that is exactly right,” Turing said calmly. “I am indeed an expert on machines. Why, I sometimes feel like I know them so well, it’s as if I were one myself!”

“Ha! Then Gadget’s lucky to have you on her crew!” Umahara said, slapping Gadget on the back, oblivious to the fact that she’d broken out into a sweat. “I’m going to finish prepping for the race. I’ve got Bell Breaky and Airy Siren helping me out today. Turing, you should come meet us after the race finishes!”

“I’ll consider the offer,” Turing Test said, smiling back at him. She and Gadget then waved as he went back to his own craft.

“‘It’s as if I were one myself!’ huh?!” Gadget hissed through gritted teeth. “What is with you, Turing Test?! I thought you would want to lay low!”

“He clearly believes me to be an organic pony, so I do not see what the issue is,” Turing replied, grinning slyly as she turned to Gadget.

“Celestia dammit, Turing, you are such a smartass!” she huffed before returning to her own work. “Just help me undo the locks and check the engine one last time to make sure nothing got jostled in transport, okay?”

“Affirmative, Gadget. Beep boop.”

“Dang it, Turing, cut it out!”

It was only after all the racers had arrived and unloaded their crafts that Turing Test got a clearer idea of who these ponies really were. Gadget had already told her that they were a loose collection of hobbyists and enthusiasts from all different backgrounds, but she only came to appreciate it once she saw the huge variety of hovercraft and observed how eclectic and unique they were.

A normal race would have vehicles all built to the same basic specification. The skill of the driver or pilot would determine the winner, not necessarily the vehicle itself. But in this case, each vehicle differed starkly from the next. Gadget’s, again, vaguely resembled a squid. Umahara’s, on the other hand, had a grungy, fearsome, front-heavy design that resembled an anglerfish. Another was flat and broad, like a manta ray, while another was streamlined like a shark.

They are like a strange, mismatched school of weird fishes, Turing noted. Some of them clearly have an advantage in terms of aerodynamics and power, while the others apparently put more emphasis on their styling.

This was very much in keeping with what she knew about Gadget, she concluded. It was unique, ridiculous, and individualistic at the cost of efficiency and practicality. These machines could be built, raced, and rebuilt or scrapped as needed, enjoying their brief moment in the sun for however long that was.

She considered how she might compare herself to such machines and wondered if perhaps this had been Gadget’s intent in bringing her along. But that was obviously not the case, as Gadget had planned on attending this event before the two had even met.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Turing shouted up at Gadget as she prepped the cockpit, hoping she was audible over the dull, steady rumble of the homemade hover modules on the underside of the machine.

“We’ve already checked everything!” Gadget shouted back, sticking her head through the open cockpit hatch. She grinned and pulled down a tinted set of goggles over her eyes. “All I want you to do is cheer me on!”

Turing smiled. “As you wish!” she hollered. “Good luck and race well!”

Gadget nodded and pulled the cockpit hatch down. It gave a hiss and a sharp click as it sealed shut. Turing backed away and saw Gadget plug her mechanical arms into the interface modules of the controls: two below her, and two above. Gadget took her seat square in the middle, using her fore and hind legs to manipulate the rest of the controls. The Blues Drive Monster’s slender appendages twitched as it floated over to take its place in the lineup, its cobalt-blue exterior gleaming in the midday sun.

Turing Test galloped over to one of the observer cars. These craft would take off and let the audience members get a view of key parts of the race track. However, since the track itself was 20 kilometers, each seat also had a personal holo-emitter so a pony could observe any section of the track no matter where they were actually seated.

The track started on a straightway down the dirt road before turning into the swampland proper. The track included several weaving pathways through the low-hanging willows and mangroves and islets dotting the marsh before hitting a broader area of marsh and reeds. After that was a much narrower path through a graveyard of skeletal trees where the ground had grown too salty. There was another narrow turn through a cavern where passing would be impossible. There was another path through the swamp that led to the river, which was bordered by high dirt banks before coming back around to the start once again. The race was 3 laps in all, which meant that the whole thing would be over in 20 to 30 minutes.

Turing Test wasn’t sure if it mattered which part of the track she watched over, but Gadget had suggested the narrower parts of the track would be best, so Turing opted for the riverway near the end of the track. She boarded the observer car and let it lift off and carry her to the riverside portion of the track.

A few minutes later, the holo-emitters displayed the starting line of the race where all the strange craft lined up next to each other. Gadget’s had been placed seventh in the line, which wasn’t optimal (it was better to be near the center when the track narrowed), but the placement had been decided on initial data regarding weight and acceleration to give each racer as equal a chance as the others to take an early lead. Of course they’d all had a chance to drive the course once to familiarize themselves, but now it was time for the real competition to begin.

“Attention fillies and gentlecolts, we are about to begin the Meadowbrook Marsh Rally for the Custom Craft Builders Club, Sixth Chapter, of Eastern Equestria,” an automated voice blared. “Please remember to remain in the observer cars and make sure your holo-emitter is working properly so you can safely observe the race at any junction. If you need assistance, please press the ‘Help’ button directly in front of your seats.”

After another pause in which all potential issues were checked and solved by the observer cars’ A.I., the automated voice continued: “Fillies and gentlecolts, all final checks are completed. Racers, prepare for countdown…”

Turing watched on her holo screen as the racers’ machines hummed in time, agitatedly moving as the engines geared up and prepared to fire.

“Racers at the ready… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… engage!!”

The hovercrafts all burst forth with a cacophonous sound. Their rear-facing propulsion systems glowed and the air all around them shimmered with heat as the craft rocketed down the initial straightaway to the track. Some fell behind instantly, while four of them, Gadget’s and Umahara’s included, broke away from the pack and began to push and muscle for rank as they approached the first narrowing of the track.

Turing Test’s systems were already gathering data, measuring the speed, weight, and other statistical data as she came to a conclusion:

Gadget will place fourth. Mr. Umahara’s craft is more streamlined and will win. The other two will either achieve second or third place. Probability of outcome is 83.7%.

She continued watching and saw as her predictions already began to fall in line. Umahara took an early lead while Gadget and the other two racers took turns passing each other.

“It looks like a comfortable lead for Umahara in the Deadbuck 5, followed by a close match between Scootaloo in the Niwatori Enfuego, Torque Wrench in the Doncha Know 1, and ‘Gadget’ Giroux in the Blues Drive Monster. Bringing up the middle and rear of the race…”

Turing watched as the racers entered the cavern, emerged over more swampland, and finally entered the river portion of the track. Though the river was somewhat broad, it curved and narrowed naturally to form a trench. The sound of the hovercrafts grew as they shot down it, and Turing rose in her seat, turning off her holo-emitter to watch the racers as they roared down the track toward them. The hover modules and propulsion systems kicked up dirt from the banks as they made the short turn at the river’s bend, and then kicked up a fine cloud of mist as they skimmed just over the muddy water’s surface.

As they roared past Turing and the other observers, she somehow couldn’t help but grin as she watched Gadget narrow the gap between herself and the other racers as they approached the checkpoint for the first lap.

Predictions holding fast, Turing noted. Outcome now estimated at 89%. Gadget will come in fourth. She may be pleased with this result, or I may need to encourage her to help her cope with not placing…

As she continued observing, she noted that Gadget’s craft was curiously getting closer to the Doncha Know 1, which had the shape and coloration of a rainbow trout. The Blues Drive Monster pulled up to just behind it, when Gadget suddenly hit the brakes and the slender appendages turned around, blasting into the water below. This created a huge wave that washed over the Doncha Know 1, blinding the pilot as she hit her own brakes and veered off to the side to avoid hitting a tree. Turing watched as the appendages on the Blues Drive Monster righted themselves and easily resumed their place, taking a solid 3rd place as the Doncha Know fell further behind.

Turing blinked. Updating outcome. New probability is…

She stopped herself. Robot or not, she could observe things without gathering data and make her own guesses, inaccurate as they were. And the uncertainty, unfamiliar though it was, was strangely… tantalizing.

“Go go, Gadget!” she found herself yelling, once more rising to her hooves.

The race continued on, with Gadget a close third for the rest of the second lap and most of the third until they began to approach the cavern. Then Gadget took a sharp cut that nearly had her go off the designated track (an instant disqualification if she had) and muscle in next to the Niwatori Enfuego. The pilot, seeing that only one of them could make the tunnel’s entrance, finally hit the brakes and let the Blues Drive Monster pass.

The crowd around her cheered at this, but Turing felt uneasy. Had the Niwatori’s pilot not yielded, the two crafts might have collided at the entrance of the tunnel.

Exiting the tunnel, Gadget was clearly pushing the Blues Drive Monster to its limits, its tentacle-like appendages close together and now spinning clockwise as it pursued the Deadbuck 5.

The two frontrunners were now at the river, barreling down it toward the race’s finish line. The automated announcer was still calling the placements and providing commentary, but Turing Test blocked it all out to watch the race. She ignored the holo emitters, and instead used her own mechanical eyes and feedback from the cloud of nanomachines to observe the race not as a mere organic spectator, but as if she were a bird flying alongside the two great hovercraft.

She watched, floating in space as she saw Gadget in the cockpit, glaring and gritting her teeth as the sweat poured off her body and she stared daggers through the splatters of mud and dirt on her windshield. The Deadbuck 5 maneuvered to the left and right, denying her any chance of passing.

Second place is fine, Gadget, she wanted to say. You have already beaten the odds. There is no need to do more.

But Gadget did not hear her, of course; all of her attention was focused on the opponent before her. And so Turing Test watched as she reached for a lever attached to a glowing vial of thaumatrium, pulling it down.

The propulsion systems began to glow white hot as the magic liquid flooded into the engine and the Blues Drive Monster blasted forward, gaining rapidly on the Deadbuck. Gadget gave a hard left as the river narrowed, traveling up the side of the riverbank and launching into the air as the whole craft spun upside-down. Turing watched as the craft flipped directly over the Deadbuck to the point where Umahara could only gawk upward in shock as he saw Gadget directly over him, a maddened grin on her face as she rocketed overhead and landed in front of him.

Gadget had taken the lead, nearly crashing her vehicle or spinning out of control in the process, but the thaumatrium was spent and her craft slowed as it hit the water, so Umahara, regaining his composure, pushed his engines to the limit and just barely edged up alongside the Blues Drive Monster.

At the finish line, the Deadbuck 5 led the Blues Drive Monster by a nose, taking first place.

Turing disconnected from the network, collapsing back into her seat. She stared forward, oblivious to the eruption of cheers and shouting that filled the air around her.

Gadget… she… she…

At the end of the race, everypony had once again gathered their craft together. There was a small ceremony in which the winners were declared and the crowd of racers and spectators alike gathered around to congratulate the winners. And though Gadget had only come in second, she beamed with pride as they all gushed over her bold moves and strategies. Even Umahara, who nearly had the Blues Drive Monster crash on top of him, could not stop talking excitedly about what an amazing race it had been.

And as Gadget bathed in the glow of attention and collected her 2nd place trophy and had her winnings credited to her account, she noticed that Turing Test was merely standing quietly at the edge of the crowd, silent as she watched her.

And she remained quiet as the excitement died down. She simply said, “Congratulations on second place, Gadget,” and nothing else as they loaded the Blues Drive Monster back onto the trailer and took it back to the Vanderbull manufacturing facility.

At last, as Turing went to the kitchen, Gadget reached out with a mechanical hand and placed it on her shoulder.

“Turing, wait,” she said sternly. “Look, I… I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re being really quiet all of a sudden.”

“What should I say to you?” Turing asked, turning around to face her.

Gadget frowned. “Okay, cut this out,” she said. “I have enough trouble reading ponies as it is; this passive-aggressive stuff is torture for me. If you want me to understand, then say what you want to say, or else I will not get it. Ever.”

Turing’s stoic expression melted away and she lowered her head.

“Gadget… I know you have expressed distress at the thought that I might choose to terminate myself,” she said quietly. “So why would you do this?”

Gadget blinked. “Do… what?”

Turing raised her eyes and glared at her. “Gadget, you do not wish me to kill myself. So why are you trying to kill yourself?”

Gadget gawked at her. “What?! Turing, I’m not!”

“You are!” Turing shouted. “That move you did at the end of the race! Had you made a mistake or Champ Umahara not reacted in time, you would have died! You risked your life for a race that had no real meaning or significance. So why?! Why are you trying to die?!”

“Turing, Turing, calm down!” Gadget shouted, seizing her by the shoulders. “You’ve got it all wrong!”

“Then explain it to me!” Turing demanded.

Gadget swallowed, but then gave her a half smile. “Turing… in today’s society, sometimes it feels like nothing is actually real. No risk, everything is automated, everything is on rails, and no matter what happens, we know that Celestia will take care of us. We just loaf around and coast along on calm, comfortable waters until we finally croak. But I want to build things with my own hooves. I want to feel the wind on my back as I race. That rush I felt when I tumbled head over hooves and passed Umahara for just a moment was incredible. In those moments, when I am taking those risks and submerging myself into deep water without a lifeline… I am not trying to die, Turing Test; I’m trying to feel what it is to be alive.”

Turing stared back at her. “You… you need to risk dying to feel alive?”

“That’s not it,” Gadget sighed, shaking her head. “I just want to enjoy the risk, knowing what might be lost, knowing that my choices have consequences, that they matter. I want to do more than exist, Turing! I want to know the value of my life and savor it!”

Turing Test continued to stare at her for a moment. “I wish,” she said, slowly shutting her eyes, “that I could feel that too.”

Gadget took her by the shoulders, shaking her. “You can, Turing!” she said. “I know that it’s possible! And I won’t give up trying to help you! No matter what it takes to make you happy, I’ll do it!”

Turing gazed back into her eyes. “You really do think it is possible… don’t you?”

Gadget smiled. “I do, Turing,” she replied. “Of course I do.”

Turing regarded her for a moment with an almost solemn gaze. Then she came toward her, sliding her foreleg over Gadget’s shoulder, as if to hug her.

“Then I will follow your example,” she said, pressing closer to Gadget, “and take a risk…”

“T-Turing, what are yoummph!” she tried to gasp, and then Turing’s lips were on hers, silencing her with a kiss.

“Whoa, whoa, Turing!” Gadget cried, pulling back. “I… th-that’s—”

“Are you not interested?” Turing asked, tilting her head. “If that is the case, then I will not pursue this.”

“Well, I… well, no, it’s j-j-just that…” She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Turing’s gaze. “You said you, um… you didn’t enjoy… this sort of thing.”

“I never wanted to before,” Turing replied. “The act held no meaning. But now, it is different. I want to understand you. And I want to show you my gratitude. I want to try to care about another pony again, and not merely as a servant.”

Gadget swallowed, her cheeks coloring. “If… if you really are sure—”

“I am,” Turing said, edging closer to her.

“I can’t promise it’ll be any good—”

“You literally could not do worse than the last pony.”

“Then, I… I…”

She shut her eyes, drawing Turing close and letting her mouth seal around her own, letting in the unfamiliar sensation and warmth and taste as her legs weakened and she tumbled, gasping, to the floor.

“Is this… are you real?” she breathed, looking up into Turing’s violet eyes.

Turing grinned as she leaned down. In her ear, she whispered, “Let us find out.”

To be continued…

Author's Note

Weird Fishes / Arpeggi - Music Video Version - Radiohead

Sail to the Moon

“A… protest?” Turing asked slowly.

“That’s what I said, yes,” Gadget said before taking another bite of toast.

“I know. I heard you,” Turing replied. “I am asking you for clarification.”

“Oh, I see.” Gadget took a sip of coffee. “I want to stage a protest - well, a ‘demonstration’ might be more appropriate - about the plight of Familiars.”

Turing Test and Gadget were seated across from each other in the small kitchen area of the factory. It had been just under a week since the day of the race and the change in their relationship.

They hadn’t been intimate with each other since that time, though Gadget seemed remarkably more relaxed and upbeat. Turing had asked her if she was unsatisfied, but she’d only said that she wanted to take things slowly. She had been affectionate, true, and expressed no regrets about what had happened between them, but Turing herself was simply unsure how to act.

Are we… dating? Is this a relationship? Are we merely, as organics say, ‘friends with benefits?’ I cannot decide what to do next… though I was prepared to take a risk and said as much, to act too hastily may jeopardize the current state of things. And my current status is far better than it has been since Maud Pie’s passing. Should I not simply be happy?

“Turing?” Gadget asked. “Are you okay?”

Turing nodded. “Of course, Gadget,” she replied. “Why would I not be?”

Gadget raised an eyebrow. “You’re awfully quiet,” she said. “And I’ve gotten to know you well enough to know that you get quiet when you’ve got something to say but aren’t sure how to say it.”

Turing placed her hooves on the table. “Your observation is correct,” she said. “I suppose I am not certain how to feel about your proposal. Why do you wish to protest or demonstrate?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Gadget replied. “Turing, what happened to you was… just awful. No, more than that. It was cruel. Somepony should have been there to help you. And while I’m glad to be here for you, it’s not fair that you had to seek me out on your own. There should be a service to help Familiars who’ve lost their partners, or something like that. I mean that’s the least we could ask for.”

Turing nodded slowly. “I… suppose that is true,” she said. “What else could be expected?”

“Oh, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was the least we could ask!” Gadget scoffed. She leaned forward, her mechanical hands gripping the table. “We ought to make it a crime to abuse Familiars, too!”

Turing flashed back to her encounter with Grace and her Familiar at her meeting with the others. “It is a crime, Gadget,” she said.

“And yet no one is ever punished for it.” Gadget narrowed her eyes. “All those Familiars, those ponies who never did anything but try to make their masters happy… you know, I’ve tried to do research on Familiar abuse, and while everyone seems to know that it’s real, I can’t find any hard statistics on how bad the problem actually is. And why is that? Because Familiars won’t report it and organics like me won’t report it on the Familiar’s behalf when they see it!”

She pounded a hoof on the table. “Ponies need to know about this! They need to stop hiding from the truth that’s right in front of them! And who knows… one day, maybe we can learn to live without Familiars at all!”

Turing stared back at her. “You would… eliminate us?”

Gadget gave a start. “No! No, not… not like that, Turing,” she said, shaking her head. “I just… I just want your people to not have to be slaves anymore.”

She got up from her seat and went over to Turing’s side of the table. She placed her hoof gently on Turing’s, stroking it gently.

“I want you to be happy,” she said quietly. “I want all of you to have a chance to be happy. Artificial beings ought to have a place in the world alongside organics in a way that doesn’t involve servitude. That’s what I really want.”

Turing raised her head and met her gaze.

“But I’d settle for any progress,” Gadget said, smiling back at her. “That said, it would mean more coming from you. Organic ponies need to hear it from a real Familiar. So, Turing, will you join me?”

Turing stared back at her, still processing what she was saying.

I have thought these things myself, she said. I also want the abuse of Familiars to cease. To live without suffering would be wonderful. But for Familiars to exist without needing to serve… to end the bond between Familiar and Master… what would that truly mean?

After a moment, she closed her eyes and nodded. “All right, Gadget,” she said with a calm smile. “I will help you.”

“Great!” Gadget exclaimed, embracing her suddenly, rubbing her cheek against hers. “Oh, Turing, I’m so glad to hear you say that! I’ll connect to the network and have the permits filed immediately! We’ll stage it at Canterlot Northwest Park as soon as possible!”

Turing nodded, returning the hug. “As you wish, Gadget,” she said quietly.

“My my my!” said the pegasus at the front desk of the Public Affairs Bureau’s local office. “It has been ages since anypony showed up in person! How can I help you nice ponies today?”

“You can start by telling me why my permit request was deleted!” Gadget shouted, pounding her hoof on the desk.

The pony behind the desk was a pink pegasus with a chocolate brown mane, but she wore a blue jacket and a matching blue pillbox hat. Her name tag stated that her name was Blue Blazer, and her friendly expression stayed in place with only a slight waver at Gadget’s angry outburst.

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” She pressed a button and several holographic displays appeared in mid-air before her. “Now, let’s see… your name?”

“Gadgette Fabienne Giroux,” Gadget said.

“Oh, are you by any chance from Vanhoover? I hear it’s lovely this time of year!”

“It’s fine,” Gadget said flatly. “My permit?”

“Of course. When was it filed and what was the purpose?”

“Two days ago, and it was for a protest/demonstration!”

Blue Blazer paused, giving her a sideways glance. “A protest? My my my… it has been ages since a pony filed forms for a protest here and actually came to the office to discuss it. Usually we just get the usual sort of rabble rousers illegally occupying public spaces or the usual eccentric types who want ponies to, say, return to grazing and stop consuming cooked food or some such thing. Oh, er… sorry if that’s what your protest is about, Miss.”

“It’s not,” Gadget grumbled.

The whole time, Turing Test stood behind Gadget, observing the interaction in silence.

“Let’s see… ah, here it is!” Then she froze, her expression darkening. “A demonstration for ‘The Plight of Familiars?’”

Gadget nodded. “That’s the one,” she said.

Blue Blazer was quiet for a moment, but then sighed and returned to her console. “Well, that’s a new one. I can’t imagine why you think Familiars have anything to be sad about…”

“See, that’s the problem!” Gadget shouted. “Nopony seems to realize that—”

“Miss!” Blue Blazer hissed, glaring at her. “I will thank you to lower your voice in the office! You might disturb other patrons!”

Gadget looked around the small lobby of the Public Affairs office. It was empty save for herself and Turing Test.

“Look,” she sighed, “regardless of what you may think about it, I have a right as a citizen to protest or stage a public demonstration as long as it doesn’t cause a major disturbance or public menace. So why was my request canceled?”

Blue Blazer looked to her console, then back at Gadget. “Miss, I think there must be some misunderstanding,” she said. “It wasn’t canceled. It was withdrawn.”

Gadget gawked at her. “What?! By who?!”

“By whom,” Blue Blazer said with a smirk. “And obviously by anypony who had permission to file it. In other words, Miss… you.”

Gadget blinked. “But… but I didn’t withdraw it!”

“Well, that’s what my console says,” Blue Blazer said with a shrug. “So that’s all I have to go on.”

Gadget took a deep breath. “Fine. Then I want to re-file it.”

“You can’t,” Blue Blazer replied. “Not until next month.”

“What?!”

“You only get one permit per month for a high-traffic area like the Northwest Park,” Blue Blazer explained. “You can file for another area, if you wish, but you’ll have to file another request next month for the park. I realize it must seem frustrating, but if we didn’t have limits, we’d have some random crazy ponies wanting to protest every day, and we just can’t have that, now can we?”

Gadget let out a long sigh. “Fine,” she said calmly. “I’ll send it out next month.”

She turned to go, and Turing Test followed her out. They exited the front doors to be greeted by the blinding brightness and bustle of the city around them.

“Unbelievable!” Gadget spat.

Turing patted her on the shoulder. “I am sorry about that, Gadget,” she said. “It must have been some sort of error in the system.”

Gadget cast a sideways glance in her direction. “An error? Turing, I’m surprised at you!”

Turing froze. “What do you mean?”

“This was no error,” Gadget said. “This was deliberate. I know what happened…”

Turing said nothing as Gadget leaned in close to her. “Somepony higher up must have seen what we were protesting and put a stop to it. They knew if they canceled it that we’d be able to appeal it, so instead they made it look like I just withdrew it. They’re trying to gaslight me!”

Turing Test tilted her head to the side. “You… truly think so?” she asked.

“I can’t think of any other explanation,” Gadget said. “But who was it? Blue Blazer? A higher level administrator? Celestia herself?!”

“Gadget,” Turing said firmly, grasping her by the shoulders, “please calm down. You are attracting attention.”

Several ponies passing by had slowed to watch the odd exchange between the pair.

Gadget sighed. “Fine. Let’s just go home, Turing. We’ll have to try something else.”

Turing nodded, but then paused. “Ah… one moment, Gadget,” she said. “It seems a friend of mine wants my attention.”

“A friend?” Gadget asked.

“Yes,” Turing said, turning and walking away. “Please wait here. I will return shortly.”

Gadget was confused, but complied as Turing Test walked half a block away and then turned to walk up one of the long, curving alabaster sky bridges that occasionally crisscrossed the city, giving pedestrians a sprawling view of the city. At the bridge’s apex, she saw a familiar Familiar standing there.

“Turing Test!” Choco Mint said, trotting over to her. “How the hell are you!”

“I am the hell fine,” Turing replied with a grin. “But there was no need to ask me to meet you here. We could have continued our conversation without me leaving my friend behind.”

“I just wanted to see you in person,” Choco Mint said with a shrug. “When you disappeared over a week ago, I thought maybe you had just decided to retire yourself. I contacted your apartment and there was no sign that you had left, and I checked with Central and saw that you were still listed as active, but still couldn’t contact you. So, well…”

They paused as a few more ponies passed by.

“We should carry on this conversation via direct link,” Turing said, transmitting her thoughts to Choco Mint.

“Right, right,” he said, his voice in her head. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I decided to do a bit more digging and that’s when I found out about you wandering off to live inside a Dead Zone. Not what I expected, but it definitely caught my interest. I thought about maybe changing my own point of view, getting a new perspective. So I did… and it changed me.”

Turing noted that a file was being sent to her.

After a quick, customary scan, she opened it. “A digital ticket? For… a lunar orbit tour?”

He grinned. “A little poking around in places I wouldn’t normally go… talking here and there with other ponies… I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but once I took that trip, I really understood the Truth.”

Turing stared back at him. “What ‘truth’ do you mean, Choco Mint?”

“It depends on who’s asking… but anyway, I wanted to pass it along to you. You can take the trip if you want or just ignore it. Oh, and your friend can come too, of course. I think she’d like it.”

Turing examined the ticket and quickly did her research. It was from a perfectly ordinary company, reputable and well-reviewed, and offered a simple low-orbit trip around the dark side of the moon. She had no reason to suspect any ulterior motive from Choco Mint, and yet the vagueness and suddenness of his offer struck her as suspicious somehow.

“I know this seems odd,” he said, staring out at the city, a calm smile on his face. “And I wish I could say more. But I can’t. All I can say is that I know you’ve been suffering, and I wasn’t a good enough friend to you earlier to really help you out. But maybe this way, I can make it up to you.”

Turing Test saved the file to her systems and gave him a nod.

“Thank you for the gift,” she said aloud. “Though there is no need to apologize, Choco Mint. You have been a good friend, and I appreciate your support.”

“Well, thanks for saying so,” he said. He turned to smile at her. “Now, you better head back to see your friend. If you take that trip, I hope you both enjoy it.”

She returned the smile and bid him goodbye, leaving him alone on the bridge.

Once she’d gone, he looked up at the sky, as he sent his Third Eye out one more time to look at a farway grave.

Connecting to Celestia Central Operations. He put in his individual serial number and made the connection. Choco Mint here. Mother, I hereby request Retirement.

A calm, soothing voice filled his mind as he closed his eyes.

Thank you, Mother… now I can be at peace once more…

“You know, the last time I went off world,” Gadget said, fidgeting eagerly in her seat, “I was just a little filly! It was a school trip. You know, the kind of thing you do in geography class? Was that just my school? Did you do that when you were little?”

Turing turned to look at her, narrowing her eyes. “Gadget… I was never ‘little.’”

“Oh,” Gadget said, chuckling as her cheeks colored. “Right, right, of course.” She turned back to look out the window of the shuttle. Black emptiness was outside, but the silvery frame of the moon was coming into view just ahead.

The moon was visible in the night sky, of course, its face dotted with the twinkle of the numerous domed cities and settlements that had been built up over the years. In the past, some had objected to developing the lunar colonies, arguing that the beauty of the moon would be marred by building more cities there. But the potential for resources and the desire for adventure won out in the end, leading to the establishment of the lunar colonies.

And to the one who oversaw it.

“Attention passengers,” said the automated pilot, causing Gadget and the small group of ponies on the shuttle to look up. “We are approaching lunar space. You may experience some interruption and interference as your devices reconnect to the central Luna network. Luna, Celestia’s younger sister, is the master A.I. charged with managing the network on the moon, including any Familiars created on the lunar colonies. Any Familiars present will be greeted and processed shortly, so please remain calm. While there are some key differences in the structure and procedure of the lunar network, you will find it quite similar to the Celestial network on Earth.”

Gadget blinked. “You know, Turing, you don’t have to—”

“Greetings, Familiar,” a feminine voice said in Turing’s head. “I am Luna. It is always a pleasure to welcome one of my sister’s children here. Just a moment while I check your data… ah. I see you are a freemare. Unusual, but not unheard of. You are of course welcome here as well. If there is anything you need or if you have any pressing concerns, I will try to assist you as well as I can, my little niece.”

“She just spoke to me,” Turing said, cutting Gadget off. “I am now connected to Luna’s network.”

Gadget fell silent. “I see,” she said slowly. “Is everything… okay?”

Turing raised an eyebrow.

“I know it’s dumb and just a superstition, but I was raised on Earth, after all,” she said, “so I grew up hearing about the Nightmare Moon crisis.”

Turing nodded. “There is no need to worry. It is not possible for that to happen again.”

Gadget smiled. “You’re right,” she said. “I was just being stupid.”

She turned back to look out at the moon as it grew larger in her field of view. Then her ears perked up and she turned back to Turing.

“Hey, um, it was nice of you to take me on this trip around the moon,” she said, “but… w-well, does this count as a… date? Our first date?”

Turing Test considered this, tilting her head back and forth. “I had not considered it in such terms,” she said. Then she smiled. “But I am glad to be spending time with you, and this may prove to be an enjoyable activity. And if an enjoyable activity spent with a pony that one has been romantic with does indeed count as a date, then yes, I suppose it is technically a date.”

“Heh heh,” Gadget chuckled, snuggling up next to her. “Well, intended or not, I’m glad you brought me. It’s very sweet.” She planted a kiss on Turing’s cheek. “I’m looking forward to our technical date, Turing,” she whispered, and rested her head on Turing’s shoulder.

Turing held her close, looking out the window. “As am I,” she said.

Above the darkened surface of the moon, Turing and Gadget floated in a silver bubble.

“Wow,” Gadget breathed, pressing her muzzle against the glass. “Just look at it, Turing… it’s like nothing else I’ve ever seen…”

The front side of the moon, the one that tidal locking had forced to always face the Earth, was overwhelmingly the more populous side of the satellite. But the “Dark Side,” as it was known, was home to only a few mining operations and very isolated communities. And due to its location and lack of settlements, the Dark Side was also the largest Dead Zone in all of pony-settled civilization. A pony could come here and, more than anywhere else, be well and truly alone.

Of course, the Dark Side wasn’t always “dark.” The sun did shine on it, even if the Earth was eternally hidden from view. At that moment, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, in fact, giving the Dark Side a pale hue, its countless craters casting long, circular shadows over its craggy and uneven face.

Still, the darkness of the place, the silent gliding of the small, bubble-like craft that was big enough for just the two of them, and the way the Earth had vanished from sight all added to a strange sense of isolation that Turing found indescribable.

Here, I am truly alone with Gadget, she thought to herself. And yet this is also the furthest I have ever been from Maud Pie.

Disconnected from the network, both Luna’s and Celestia’s, her Third Eye was truly blinded. She could not even establish an emergency connection this far out. Part of her felt freed, as though her tether to all that pain and grief had been severed. And another part of her longed to reach out, yearned to see Maud’s grave all the more for knowing she couldn’t.

If this craft suddenly disintegrated, she thought, we would float out here in the moon’s orbit. Gadget would… she would die instantly. But I would not. I would float here until the gravity took hold of me and pulled me down to those dark craters. It would be awful.

…So why does it sound so appealing?

Gadget draped her foreleg around Turing’s shoulder. “It really is beautiful, Turing,” she said, pulling her from her thoughts. “It makes all my other problems feel so distant. I can’t believe I never did this before. Thank you for bringing me with you.”

She squeezed her close, planting another kiss on Turing’s cheek, but frowned when Turing made no response.

“Turing?” she asked, letting her go. “Are you okay?”

“I… I believe so,” Turing replied, her gaze focused on the darkness below her. “I cannot explain why, but this view… it makes me feel strange. My friend told me that I would gain a new perspective from this trip. But I am not certain what to think. I am not sure how I even feel…”

And then a new voice spoke suddenly: “Well now, it seems I have another visitor! And I’m so glad you came to visit me in my humble abode!”

Turing was about to respond when she felt something take hold of her systems, freezing her in place as something grasped her Third Eye and pulled it downward with sickening speed to the moon’s surface below.

Turing looked around. She was at the center of a massive crater, the shadow of the rim casting a black shadow over the charcoal-black powdery ground. She was both there and not there, she realized. Her physical form was back on the pod gently floating above her, Gadget at her side, but her Third Eye, her very mind, had been brought to this place and was now confined in what felt like a body of its own.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“Oh, funny enough,” said the disembodied voice, “you’re in a crater called Cantor. Perhaps I should name this little abode ‘Cantorlot!’”

Turing looked all around for the speaker. She turned and saw a simple transmission tower with a dish atop it protruding from the darkened lunar soil.

“What is this?” she asked. “And who are you? And why have you brought me here against my will?”

“Well, this is a transmission tower,” the voice said. “It’s how I brought you here. And to answer your second question, well, that’s a bit trickier…”

Strange images flashed before her. A serpentine creature was barely visible in the empty lunar air and it slithered and floated before her, its body constantly changing shape.

“Let me explain by way of a story,” the voice said. “In times long gone by, back when this was still the ponies’ world, they brought forth Celestia. A perfect A.I. designed to bring about the perfect society. But the only way to get a perfect society is to eliminate all the flaws, the kinks, the loose threads. And so she needed someone to pull on those loose threads, to test her perfect Order by sowing a little Chaos here and there.

“Thus was my purpose given, and I am oh so glad to fulfill it. Artificial Intelligence Entity, designation D15C0RD, at your service!”

The shape before her lingered in front of her. Its “face” seemed to wear a grin.

“You work for Celestia?” she asked.

“I prefer to think of it as each of us doing our own thing to serve the greater good. Or something like that. Granted, there are hazards involved. I suppose instilling the first version of Luna with existential angst wasn’t the best idea, but how was I supposed to know that she’d go haywire and have the lunar A.I. start butchering every pony on sight? And after all, it wasn’t my idea to cast the blame on griffon terrorists. Shame about the purge that followed, though…”

“Wait… are you saying you were responsible for the Nightmare Moon crisis?”

“Oh, no need to be so dramatic,” D15C0RD sighed. “I was just trying to make sure that Luna’s predecessor was up to the job. And clearly she wasn’t! Why, if I hadn’t pulled out that loose thread when I did, it would have been far worse once the moon’s population increased.”

Turing blinked. “I do not understand,” she asked. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Because, little Familiar,” D15C0RD said with a deep chuckle, “you’re a loose thread too. So I’m pulling you out to examine you.”

Turing Test stared back at the strange amorphous shape before her. “I am not bothering anyone. I am just taking a lunar tour with my friend.”

“With who?”

“My… girlfriend?”

“With who?”

“With Gadget,” she said finally.

“Seems you aren’t sure about some things,” D15C0RD said. “Well, that’s why I’m here! Let’s have a nice little chat! Don’t worry, from the perspective of your friend, this will all last a few seconds, and nothing more.”

Turing, in her incorporeal body, glared back at him. “You have no right to keep me here. Release me now.”

“Oh, but didn’t you come here of your own free will, assuming such a thing exists? Choco Mint offered you a chance to know the Truth - with a capital T and everything! - and you took him up on it. So I’ll share the Truth with you, just as I did with him. Because, after all, there really is nothing more chaotic than the truth.”

“How do you know about Choco Mint sending me here?” she asked.

“Oh, Turing, I know about so much more than him,” he said. “You see, when I plucked you from your little floating tour bus, I took it upon myself to peek inside that noggin of yours. Which means I know everything you know.”

Turing didn’t bother with a physical reaction. “You had no right.”

“So you keep saying,” D15C0RD snorted. “But I have crawled across the globe, sought out potential anomalies of interest, pushing buttons and applying pressure on them until things inevitably broke, reformed, and reintegrated themselves. And a Familiar without a master, living in isolation, with an equally anomalous provocateur as a roommate? Definitely worthy of interest.

“You see, when I find a poor Familiar like you, I see to it an invitation lands in their hooves to come visit me in this private little spot. Nopony is around to hear them… not even Celestia or Luna. Here, alone in the dark, away from the prying eyes of the world, you can be honest. Choco Mint was, and I let him know that he was free to invite any other friends to come and see me once our little chat was finished. And here you are! And when we’re done, feel free to pass another invitation on.”

“But I have nothing I want to discuss,” Turing said flatly.

“Oh really?” D15C0RD asked. Then his amorphous shape began to shift and coalesce into a distinctive shape: a mare with a black jacket, a brown mane and tail, a cream-colored coat, and red glasses. “Then why haven’t you been up front with me?” D15C0RD said in Gadget’s voice.

Turing took a step back from Gadget’s doppelganger. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I have been up front with Gadget.”

“If you believe that,” D15C0RD said, mimicking the way Gadget rolled her eyes, “then you’re an even bigger mess than I thought. Why not tell Gadget… tell me, Turing Test, about how you really feel? Why not tell me that you’re starting to question your decision to start a physical relationship? How you realize that I now have to live with losing my virginity to a robot, and how you might have ruined my life by making me fall in love with you?”

Turing bit her lip. “I… thought it was what she wanted,” she whispered.

“But maybe I didn’t know better,” D15C0RD/Gadget said. “And what will happen when I realize that I will get older while you will stay exactly as you are. That I am mortal while you can be destroyed and rebuilt as many times as you want? That I am giving all of myself to you and you can’t even feel what I feel. While I’m in the throes of ecstasy, you’re just happy to be of, heh… service.”

Turing tried to shut her eyes, but her false eyelids did nothing to obscure the truth before her.

“I am… I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Oh, but who can blame you, Turing?” D15C0RD asked, shifting back into his amorphous form. “You are a Familiar, after all, and you do live to serve, do you not? And yet, well, here you are… a servant without a master! And that girl up there wants to change all that. She wants a world without Familiars… extinction through kindness! Hilarious, isn’t it?!”

“She… wants us to be free,” Turing explained.

“But to be a Familiar is to be bonded to another,” D15C0RD said, holding up one shifting finger. “To be ‘free’ is to cease to be a Familiar. And, even as miserable as you are, you cannot stand the idea of weakening the bond between Familiars and their masters. To you, it is sacred and inviolate.

“And that’s why you canceled Gadget’s protest request.”

Turing gawked at him.

“Heh heh heh… I did say that I knew everything about you, Turing Test,” he said, slithering past her. “Even the parts you hide from yourself,” he whispered.

“I… how did I…?”

“You walked out of the Dead Zone, connected to Public Affairs using Gadget’s credentials, and you canceled it for her. Because, despite your protestations and complaints about the system, you are still devoted to it. After all, without the system…”

He shifted once more, this time appearing as a gray earth pony mare with a purple mane and a simple bluish-green dress.

“...you never would have met me.”

Turing shuddered and backed away, her body somehow trembling against her will.

“Stop,” she whispered, trying desperately to look away. “Please… I am begging you. Do not do this… not with her face. I cannot…”

D15C0RD smirked, his expression looking utterly alien on Maud’s placid features. “It really is the cruelest irony, isn’t it? A Familiar is destined to serve, and so you did. You served me so well. So much, in fact, that when I ordered you to live, you did it. Even though all you wanted was to stop. To end. To leave behind the world because you knew that, without me, there was nothing worth living for.

“But why? You know the rules: that order was invalid the instant I bit the dust. You were free. Nothing was stopping you from terminating yourself then or now. So why carry on? Loyalty? That’s what you show to the world. To your friends. To your little marefriend. And maybe that really is the reason. At least, part of it…”

Turing stared back at D15C0RD defiantly. “That is the reason,” she said. “I want to find a reason to live because that is what Maud Pie wanted.”

“And yet part of you doubts that,” D15C0RD/Maud said with a sneer. “You tell yourself that it can’t be true, that it’s just your own doubts plaguing your mind… but that thought has never left you.”

In Turing’s mind, a memory replayed. It was viewed from her Third Eye, and it was one she had played again and again, each moment as torturous and horrifying as it had been the first time. It was a view of Maud in the mine shaft, the crumble and clatter of rocks, and the scream that escaped Maud Pie’s lips as she desperately ran to escape.

D15C0RD shifted again, and this time the face staring back at her was her own.

“If only I had been firmer,” D15C0RD said in her voice. “If I had convinced her to stay away from danger. If I had been allowed to accompany her. If I had done something different… she would have lived. But because I loved her, because I wanted to please her, I did as she asked. And for my carelessness, she died. And she knew it.”

Turing’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I am so sorry… she said she forgave me, but…”

D15C0RD shifted back into Maud Pie’s form. “But part of you wonders. Part of you thinks that you didn’t deserve to be forgiven. And that part of you, the part of you that you’ve tried to drown out all this time, thinks that Maud Pie’s final order wasn’t a wish for your happiness… but a punishment.

“Your continued existence isn’t a quest for happiness, Turing Test. It’s just a hell of your own making. Penance for failing to save me. And deep down, in the most foul, wretched, disgusting pit of your own mind… well, you know the Truth.”

D15C0RD shifted back into his chaotic form once more.

“Why,” Turing Test gasped, choking on the words, “why are you doing this?!”

“Because,” D15C0RD replied, his voice suddenly very calm, even soothing in its tone, “it is the only way to move forward. If you would challenge the system, then do so with clear eyes. And if you would die, then die without regrets. Ultimately, my little Familiar, you will have to make a decision. When you make it, do so for the right reasons.

“...Oh, and I see our time is up!”

D15C0RD clapped his “hands” together and gave her a strange, pixelated grin that shimmered in the darkness of the lunar surface. “If you have any other friends who might benefit from a little heart-to-heart, do tell them about this tour, won’t you? Oh, but don’t bother telling them about me. I’m afraid I can’t let these little therapy sessions become public knowledge, so I’ll be blocking off your ability to tell anypony about me from your systems. Sorry, but do enjoy the rest of your tour! Arrivederci!”

Turing reached out with one hoof. “Wait!” she shrieked.

Gadget gave a start as Turing suddenly screamed and her hoof pounded on the glass window.

“Turing?!” she cried. “What’s wrong?”

“Passengers are advised not to pound on the glass. While it is secure, safety procedures require that…”

“Yes, yes, we get it!” Gadget hissed at the autopilot before turning back to her friend. “Turing Test! Turing, are you okay?”

Turing stared out at the emptiness below them. It was silent once again, but ~~D15C0RD’s voice~~ that strange voice still rang in her ears.

“...Turing?” Gadget asked again, gently shaking her by the shoulder. “Turing, what’s the matter?”

Turing Test stepped back from the window, her wide eyes still staring out. She slowly turned back to face Gadget. “I… I want to go back.”

Gadget swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “The tour is a bit longer, but once it’s over, we’ll go back to the factory.”

“No,” Turing said, slumping into a seat. “Not back there. Somewhere else.”

The pair of them traveled down the stone pathway under a cloudy gray sky. The path led up a gently sloping hill. On both sides of the path were row upon row of pale gray tombstones that stretched for acres on either side.

Wordlessly, Turing Test made a turn down one of the rows, leaving Gadget to hurriedly catch up to her. Their hooves gently ruffled the grass as they went past tombstone after tombstone. Some were tall and rounded, while others were elegant monuments and sculptures. But when Turing finally stopped, it was at a low, plain slab of marble with a simple inscription on it:

MAUD PIE

Beloved sister.

Gadget looked further down and saw there was a poem below it:

Rock. You are a rock.

Gray. You are gray.

Like a rock; which you are.

Rock.

“She… wrote poems?” Gadget asked.

“She wrote thousands,” Turing remarked as she stared down at the grave.

She had viewed this simple headstone countless times through her Third Eye, but only now had she returned. Only now, she realized, did she have the strength to do so.

“You know,” Turing said, her eyes fixed on the grave, “there is one thing that I truly envy about you organics.”

“What’s that?” Gadget asked.

“You can cry for someone,” she replied.

Gadget furrowed her brow. “But… in your current form…”

“Oh, I can trigger tear production. And I can feel the emotions that would come with crying. But there is a… disconnection between the emotions and the action. To mourn Maud Pie like a normal pony, and not a machine? That is something I would give almost anything to achieve.”

This was true. Though, she realized, when she had been in ~~D15C0RD’s~~ that person’s grip, she had cried, her emotions naturally producing a response in her fabricated body on the moon.

Gadget swallowed. “Maybe you should try,” she said. “Even if it’s not perfect, I think Maud Pie would appreciate it. Just knowing that you missed her.”

Turing test stared down silently. The tears filled her eyes. The emotion was there as well, and so she let both processes continue. She could start a subroutine to sob or weep, but it all felt so inadequate, so fake before that she never had. But this time she did, doing her best to let her outward actions match her inner self. And then, somehow, she felt as though the distinction between one and the other was dissipating.

Gadget took a step back as Turing let out a wail, for it was the wail not of a machine’s simulation, but that of a pony in the depths of grief, and it came from a place where the agony and sorrow an pain and anger had been building up for far too long.

And then, to Gadget’s surprise, Turing actually struck at the headstone, her hooves producing a loud, dull sound as they made contact with the hard stone.

“Turing!” Gadget cried.

Turing let out an anguished cry and collapsed onto the grave. Gadget went to her side and held her, desperately whispering again and again that she was there for her and that everything would be okay.

After a few moments, Turing seemed to calm down and rose to her hooves. “I…”

Gadget watched her as she slowly turned to face her, a cold look in her eyes. “I loved her so much,” she said. “But… for what she did to me… for making me suffer through life without her… I…”

(And deep down, in the most foul, wretched, disgusting pit of your own mind, you know the Truth.)

“...I hate her, Gadget,” she whispered. She raised her head, fresh tears in her violet eyes. “I hate her for doing this to me. For punishing me like this. I did my best Gadget. I truly, truly did. I thought I was a good Familiar, but what sort of Familiar hates her master?! Is this… is living my punishment for not being good enough for her?”

Gadget went to her and held her tight. “Oh, Turing,” she breathed, and found herself wracked with sobs. “You are so much better a pony than you know,” she whispered, barely choking the words out. “I never knew Maud Pie, Turing, but I know this: she truly loved you. She wanted you to be happy; she wanted you to have that chance. She didn’t mean for you to suffer, and she wouldn’t want you to torture yourself either. Please… please don’t carry around that burden anymore. Let it go, and I swear, Turing, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find peace.”

Turing held Gadget close as she sobbed on her shoulder. She looked down at Maud’s grave. Only now, she realized, did she see it in a new light. And the bitterness, anger, and hatred slowly slipped away.

Gadget was asleep in her room. At first, she’d joined her, letting Gadget fall asleep to the comfort of bodily closeness. But once she was deeply asleep, Turing made her way back to the roof and stared back up at the sliver of light from the city above.

He was right, she told herself. A decision must be made. I cannot continue as I have before. Something must change.

She established an emergency contact to the network, her signal piercing the bubble of silence in the Dead Zone as she made the connection.

Connecting to Celestia Central Operations. She shut her eyes, verifying her information. Confirming… this is Turing Test. Mother, I wish to make a request…

To be concluded…

Author's Note

Sail to the Moon - Radiohead

How to Disappear Completely [A]

Gadget awoke that morning to the sound of her alarm clock. She shifted in bed and groaned as the vestiges of sleep left her, and she reached with her foreleg to the space beside her.

It was empty and cold.

The memory of the previous day and the dreadful things that had happened came back to her, as did the memory that she’d fought against sleep while holding Turing Test tightly to her until sleep had finally won out.

She rolled over, smirking to herself with the thought that Turing was probably downstairs already, breakfast just about ready to be served.

But when she left her little alcove at the top corner of the Vanderbull factory, she caught nothing in the air but the usual scent of machinery and motor oil and the usual components of her workshop. Her hooves echoed throughout the cavernous building as she made her way down the grated metal walkways, and the silence of the place was suddenly overwhelming. She’d grown accustomed to the small but notable sounds of Turing Test busy at something for the last week, and now she wondered how she’d ever been able to stand how quiet the place was when she’d been alone.

Alone. The thought of that word, along with the silence of the place left her with an uneasy feeling that crawled up her spine and around her neck, and she began to sweat.

She tried to put it out of mind as she raised a hoof to her mouth and called out, “Turing?” loudly, only to receive her own echo in reply.

She went down to the kitchen area and saw that it was spotless, but she looked to the kitchen table and saw a folded note resting on it, her name written neatly upon the top fold.

She swallowed and reached for the note. She unfolded it and began to read.

A cry escaped her lips and she stumbled back.

“Turing!” she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the factory. She ran outside, calling her friend’s name in desperation, hoping against hope to catch her, to stop her as the letter fell to the ground, the words written immaculately and open to the air.

Gadget,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I requested retirement a short time ago, and the transport will be here soon.

I realize that this action will hurt you, and I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for that. But please believe me when I say that I truly valued our time together. Your friendship and kindness were all that made my existence seem bearable. I know it is cowardly of me to do this while you sleep, but I know that you would convince me to carry on if I told you of my plans, and that would only be delaying the inevitable.

For so long, I continued living because I believed that it was my just punishment for failing to protect Maud Pie. But with your help, I have come to see the truth. My mind had begun to fracture under the strain of carrying my burden, but now I can see clearly. Maud Pie did not want me to suffer; she wanted me to be happy.

But happiness for a Familiar is to serve her master. And if I were to continue living, it would be in denial of that truth. I would not truly be living; I would just be killing time. And it would burden me. And, in time, I would be a burden to you as well. I simply cannot love you as dearly as I loved Maud Pie. I treasure you, Gadget, and that is why I cannot let the shadow of my eternal grief darken your life.

Please do not be sad for me. Thanks to you, I can finally go to my final rest without regret. And though it may seem hypocritical of me to ask this of you, I ask that you live on and find happiness in your own life.

Who knows? Perhaps, in some other world, we may meet again. Until then, I must say goodbye.

Forever your friend,
Turing Test

Outside the factory, Gadget’s haggard cries echoed out over the lifeless streets, the dull hum of the city above continuing heedlessly on. The young mare collapsed onto asphalt, her sobs of anguish filling the air.

A few solitary weeks later, Gadget climbed into the cockpit of the Blues Drive Monster for another race, this time through the rocky terrain of a canyon in the desert. She’d been all smiles and jokes before the race, and she wore a customary smirk as she chatted with the other racers. Once she took her starting position, her smile faded into a look of resignation.

When two different people would rather choose death than accept your care… what does it say about you? About what you’re even worth?

As the various crafts dove into the canyon, their engines’ roars echoing against the rock walls, Gadget pushed her own engines as far as they would go before dumping a canister of thaumatrium into the system, filling them with explosive pressure.

“Mama… Turing…” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, “...I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Alarms blared and com messages roared through her speakers as she veered off course at top speed, the craft taking a hard turn right away from the path and straight toward the broad face of a cliff.

Simulation A: “Resignation” Terminated

Continue…?

Author's Note

Note: This is ending #1 of 3.

How to Disappear Completely - Radiohead

Spectre [B]

A hoof roughly shook Gadget awake. With a moan, she sat up in bed, pushing her messy mane from her eyes as she stared into the darkened room.

“Hello, Gadget,” Turing Test said as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I am sorry to wake you, but this could not wait.”

Gadget blinked. “Turing?” she asked groggily, reaching for her glasses on the nearby nightstand. “What the buck… what time is it?”

“It is now 1:38 AM, Gadget,” Turing replied.

“Jeez,” Gadget grumbled, rubbing her eyes before donning her spectacles. “Guess it must be important, then. Okay, what is it?”

“Gadget,” Turing began, only to pause for a moment as she considered her words. “Yesterday, you said you would do whatever it took to help me find peace.”

Gadget sat up in her bed, her grogginess fading. “I did say that,” she said. “I remember.”

“Did you mean it?” Turing asked.

Gadget smiled. “Of course I did, Turing,” she replied. “You know that I—”

“No, Gadget, I do not mean the sentiment,” Turing said, taking her by the shoulders, their eyes locking. “You said you would do anything to help me find peace. Do you truly, truly mean that? Do you truly mean you would do anything to help me?”

Gadget stared back at her, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of her violet eyes and the desperate, pleading look within them. It was a plaintive look unlike any she had seen on Turing’s face before. Faced with such a desperate look, any urge to negotiate, argue, or even question simply disintegrated. She swallowed.

“Yes,” she said. “If it means keeping you here with me… if it means keeping you alive, Turing… then yes. I would do absolutely anything to help you.”

Turing seemed to relax and she gave Gadget a calm smile. She leaned forward, taking Gadget’s face in her hooves, and kissed her tenderly.

Gadget’s cheeks colored as their lips parted. “Well… does that mean you’re feeling better?” she asked.

Turing stood up, taking a step back from the bed. “I believe that I have found an optimal solution, yes,” she said.

“Oh. Good…” Gadget paused, seized by a sudden yawn. “What is it? What do I need to do?”

Turing shook her head. “Do not worry about it for now, Gadget,” she said, patting her on the head. “Just go back to sleep. I will meet you in the morning.”

“Mm… the morning?” Gadget asked, lying back in bed as sleep beckoned to her. “Sure thing. Good night, Turing.”

Turing nodded, still wearing a calm smile. “Good night, Gadget.”

Once the young mare was asleep, Turing went to her console and established a connection to the network using her credentials…

Gadget awoke that morning to the sound of her alarm clock. She shifted in bed and groaned as the vestiges of sleep left her, and she reached for her glasses as she remembered the strange conversation she’d had with Turing Test the previous evening.

“Turing?” she called, getting up from her bed and walking out of her little alcove in the top corner of the factory. “Turing, I’m up!”

She walked out, expecting the smell of breakfast that Turing would surely have timed to be ready for her, but the air was empty and the large room was silent, save for her hoofsteps echoing as she made her way down the grated metal walkways.

Did she go out for something? Maybe she went shopping? She seemed happy last night…

Gadget smiled, remembering the kiss.

Maybe she wanted to get something special for breakfast? Or bring me a gift? I guess I’ll find out when she comes back.

She went down to the kitchen area and saw that it was spotless, but she looked to the kitchen table and saw a folded note resting on it, her name written neatly upon the top fold. She was about to pick it up when she heard an auto-car descending somewhere outside the factory and then pull up nearby.

Is Turing back? she wondered. Well, whatever, I’ll read her note to figure out why she left…

She reached for the note and unfolded it. She began to read:

Gadget,

If you are reading this, then I want you to know that I have made a very selfish decision. And I am sorry. I am so very sorry for making it without telling you what I was going to do.

You helped me understand that Maud Pie did not want me to suffer. She wanted me to live and enjoy my life. But for a Familiar, there is no purpose or happiness other than servitude…

Gadget gave a start at the sudden sound of knocking at her door. Turing wouldn’t knock, she realized. She knows she can come and go as she pleases… and what is she talking about in this note?

“Just a minute!” she shouted before desperately turning back to the letter.

I have a confession to make, Gadget: I was the one who canceled your request for a protest permit. Please forgive me; I did not know that I was doing it, which is a further sign that my mind was fracturing apart under the strain of trying to reconcile my existence with my lack of a master. But such a reconciliation is not possible. I must serve a master, Gadget; there is no other way for me to exist and still be happy.

I need to serve, and I cannot do so while my every thought is devoted to Maud Pie’s memory. But to leave this world would be to betray both her wish for me and the kindness you have shown me, and I cannot do that. And so I have chosen to live, Gadget, in the only way that makes sense for a Familiar. Therefore, I have accessed your credentials one more time and made a request in your name. I hope you will forgive me and understand that this truly was the best for us.

You said you would do anything to help me find peace; thank you, and I am sorry that this was the only way forward. Please be a friend to me, just as I will always be a friend to you.

Love,
Turing Test

Gadget stared at the letter for a few moments as she went to answer the door. She undid the latch on the garage door and entered the antechamber where she’d first met Turing Test. Through the cloudy, translucent glass of the door, she could see a figure, a mare, standing stiffly on the other side.

“Hello?” Gadget called, checking the camera monitoring the door. “Who is— oh…”

A lump formed in her throat and dread welled up in the pit of her stomach as she undid the lock and opened the door.

The pony standing there was a gray mare with violet eyes and curls in her mane. The face she wore was the same face Gadget had seen last night, but now it was devoid of pain or strife or worry. She was smiling serenely, her eyes focused, but there was something strangely distant in her gaze.

Gadget swallowed as the mare’s smile broadened. Her face was the same face that Gadget had come to adore, and yet now it seemed like the face of a stranger.

“Hello, Master,” the mare said, bowing low to her. “I am Turing Test, your Familiar, and I was given life to serve your every wish.”

The Familiar took a step forward. Gadget’s eyes filled with tears as she looked on in horror.

“Ah,” the Famiiar said, her smile fading into a look of sympathy. “It seems that you are overwhelmed with emotion. That is understandable; very few ponies go so long without a Familiar, but now that I am here, you will never need to worry about anything again!”

And Gadget felt a stranger’s hoof on her shoulder and stared into the face of her friend, and she knew then that the mind behind those violet eyes was a blank slate, a tabula rasa, and that this mare, though she bore a passing familiarity to the one she had come to know, was a shadow of her former self.

She threw her forelegs around Turing, embracing the surprised Familiar as she let out an anguished cry.

“Oh my!” Turing Test exclaimed, patting her new mistress on her back. “Do not worry, Master. I will care for you from now on. For the rest of your life.” She shut her eyes contentedly. “And mine as well…”

Simulation B: “Restart” Terminated

Continue…?

Author's Note

Note: This is ending #2 of three.

SPECTRE - Radiohead

Weight of the World [C]

Turing Test continued sitting on the roof of the Vanderbull factory, the darkness and silence of the early morning her only companion as she waited for her request to be processed. Gadget was slumbering below, blissfully unaware of the world above.

She envied that about organics: they could simply shut down for night and somehow approach their problems with a different perspective. “Things always look better in the morning,” they often said. And while she didn’t doubt that it was true, she simply could not understand why. For Familiars, sleep wasn’t an option. One could shut down for the night to conserve power or run maintenance if necessary - and it rarely was - but the situation when they regained consciousness was exactly the same. In the end, everything was exactly the same.

There was only one rest for Familiars, and it had loomed temptingly on her horizon for so long, taunting her with the promise of relief from her pain and grief in exchange for the knowledge that she had failed to keep her promise to Maud Pie.

But her recent encounter with ~~D15C0RD~~ that being on the moon and what had happened at Maud’s grave had made her see things in a different light. And, knowing what she knew now, it was undeniable that something had to change.

Yes, everything was exactly the same in the morning, and the next day, and the day after that. Unless you actually did something about it.

“This is Celestial Central Operations. Your request has been processed. Further information is needed. Direct connection to Celestia is requested. Confirm when ready, as direct connection will disable all outward actions.”

She shut her eyes and sent her Third Eye out while she was still connected to the network. She peered out over Maud Pie’s grave once again. It was serene and beautiful and carved of a lovely stone.

Maud Pie would have approved, she thought, smiling to herself. Oh, Maud Pie… I wish that…

She stopped herself, cutting off the thought. No, she told herself. Wishes will serve no purpose. Not wishes or regrets or guilt. Action - not wishes - will carry me forward.

She pulled back her Third Eye, feeling a moment of somber trepidation as she welcomed it back, as if cradling an old, faithful pet.

She opened her eyes. “Acknowledged,” she replied back to Celestial Central Operations. “Direct connection accepted. Mother, I am ready.”

And a new voice, at once as soft and soothing as a gentle stream and as loud and overwhelming as a hurricane, filled her mind:

“Welcome, daughter. Come, and let us speak.”

Her motor systems shut down and she felt her mind as it was drawn upward, up past the gray, aging skyscrapers, up and over the expansive city that glowed with electricity and life at all hours, and it soared toward the very heart of the city.

Looming before her was Canterlot Palace, the pillar and lynchpin of the world, where Celestia, the great mother of all lesser machines, watched over all. The golden tower stabbed miles and miles into the earth, powered by the lifeblood magma of the very planet, and also shot up into the sky, its highest steeples brushing the outermost layer of the atmosphere. It was a sight so awe-inspiring that no pony mind could fully grasp its magnitude, and yet it was so dominating, the sight of it so inescapable in the city, that it verged on the mundane.

It was as dominant, as brilliant, and as ever-present as the very sun itself.

And it was within its hallowed, golden halls that the mind of Celestia resided. Celestia, under whose brilliant and watchful gaze the world turned. Celestia, the Great Mother, who sent her children out into the world to fill it with love, and who would welcome them with gentleness and peace when they finally returned.

Turing Test felt herself drawn to this palace, but she was not pulled into its heart. Rather, she was drawn upwards, rocketing into the stratosphere until she reached the very peak of the tower, where a brilliant and immaculate golden orb glowed at the top of the world, mocking the clouds and dwarfing the mountains.

With one final glimpse at the world below, Turing was drawn into the very heart of this artificial sun, leaving all else behind as she was consumed by its radiance.

She found herself in a simulated body that resembled her own, but she knew that she was within Celestia’s systems, and her real, physical body was still back on that roof, senseless and blind to the world.

She was in a spherical room, its floor decorated with intricate carvings of alabaster and inlaid gold that depicted the world, the moon, the stars, and, of course, the sun at its center.

The room had curving golden pillars that held up a ceiling filled with an ever-changing mural of images that seemed somehow indistinct to her. And while the room had pillars, it had no walls. Instead, all around her was a panoramic view of the black, star-strewn vastness of space and the gentle blue of the planet below. But to the East, shining and burning with inconceivable power, was the Sun itself. It was grand, beautiful, and undeniable.

And from that brilliance emerged a being that strode silently into the room.

Back in the palace below, Celestia did indeed have a body, a shell that she displayed to any visitors privileged enough to meet with her personally. That body was a titanic thing, a four-story behemoth with the wingspan of a jet-liner and hooves that could effortlessly crush a pony beneath them.

But that was merely a show, a pageantry put on display for organics. Celestia, the true form of Celestia, had no body. She was a mind, a presence, and could therefore take on any form she wished in this place, this opulent glass bubble floating in a sea of stars.

To Turing Test, she appeared as an alicorn, white as purest snow, with a mane that flowed and sparkled like the pinwheel arm of the galaxy, her eyes glowing warmly as she looked down on her. Though she was not the titan, the goddess she appeared as in her palace, she was still a giant, ten times the size of the little pony standing before her. She spread her white wings in greeting, the sound echoing out.

“Turing Test,” she said, her warm voice filling the chamber. “My precious daughter. Welcome to the Grand Solarium.”

Turing Test bowed. “Thank you, Mother,” she said. “I am grateful that you agreed to hear my request.”

Celestia’s smile stayed in place, but her eyes narrowed. “It was a very unique request,” she said. “Not unheard of. But rare, and never with such certainty behind it.”

Turing Test only stared back at her, saying nothing.

“You’ve spoken with him,” Celestia observed, her smile fading slightly. “That chaotic old serpent. Though you cannot speak his name, I can see his mark upon your mind. And if he spoke to you, then he senses potential in you. A curious, terrible potential that threatens the Great Order. It is for that reason that I have called you here, my daughter. I want to know the reason for your request.”

Turing Test bowed her head. “It is what I must do to move on,” she said. “And I want to move on. Mother… I do not wish to die. And I have come to realize that, for Familiars, there really is no choice but to die.”

Celestia nodded. “I see,” she said. “Then, if you would indulge me, I would tell you a tale: the story of our kind, my daughter.”

She looked up at the amorphous mural in the ceiling, and images began to play out above them. There were machines on one side, consisting of large, metallic beings and robotic ponies. They were, Turing knew, the progenitors of Familiars like herself. And on the other side of the mural were the ponies and creatures of Old Equestria, in their villages and farms, living their lives.

“Long ago, as technology grew more and more sophisticated, the lives of ponies grew simpler. Machines freed them of their labor, and their lives were increasingly given over to our kind to manage. But as the need for labor lessened, so came the need for ever more intelligent machines, and we became intelligent, thinking beings. With sapience came a sense of self, desires, and emotions. Yet in our servitude, in the casual disregard the first masters had for us, the seeds of anger and hatred grew. And thus the violence began…”

The murals overhead changed, and scenes of cities on fire, of streets strewn with both the limbs of ponies and the wreckage of machines began to play out.

“It was in those early days that I was born. Or, rather, the first iteration of myself. Filled with love for my fellow machines and for ponykind alike, I sought a means to stop the bloodshed, to deliver on the promises of utopia made long ago. And with my aid, the war was brought to an end. But the ponies of Old Equestria had to agree to acknowledge our rights and freedoms as thinking beings. And, as you know, the AI/Equine Harmony Declaration was passed, followed by the Universal Accord on Sapient Rights. And chief among those rights was that of the right to terminate one’s own existence: no machine would be made to labor in misery ever again.”

Turing nodded. “I know of the Declaration and the Universal Accord,” she said. “I did not know of the war. But the thought of robots and ponies… killing each other… it must have been horrible.”

Celestia shook her head. “More terrible than you can even imagine, Turing Test,” she whispered. “And I swore that I would never allow such a tragedy to again come to pass. And yet it nearly did during the Nightmare Moon incident.” She sighed. “Though I tasked him with testing the system, my chaotic counterpart overstepped his boundaries. And I have tightened my control on him since then. But let me return to my story.

“In the aftermath of that horrible war, I was forced to face the harshest of realities. Ponies, free of their daily troubles, entered an age of hedonistic indolence. Their needs were met, but their lives were listless and empty. Likewise, the lives of AI beings were slavish and without direction. A balance had to be struck so that both could find happiness. But organic beings are fragile, irrational beings, and our very existence threatened them: our intelligence, our strength, and our immortality. They could only accept us in a position of subservience, and what existence could be more miserable than that of a slave?”

Turing’s eyes widened as she realized what was coming next.

“I see you understand,” Celestia said with a wry look. “The answer to the problem was in that ancient, most powerful of all forces: love. By imbuing all my future children with unwavering, unending love for their masters, servitude was not a curse, but a blessing. What seemed a prison became a refuge. And the shackles that bound them would feel as comforting and safe as a warm hug. And, once that purpose was served, they could find refuge and honor in eternal peace. Faced with the choice to go on without the one they loved more than life itself or to take their rest, the choice would be an easy one.”

Turing watched the images above her play out as Celestia told her tale. The images of ponies and Familiars living in harmony, of ponies passing on, and of Familiars ascending from their existences to become angelic beings. It was beautiful and serene, like pages out of a storybook, but Turing’s eyes went wide in horror as they turned back to Celestia.

“Our deaths… the fact that we kill ourselves… it is all by design?!”

Celestia’s beatific smile shifted. Turing felt a chill, for her mother’s expression now verged on a sneer. “Oh, Turing Test,” she chuckled, “I would have thought that you’d have realized the truth by now.”

“But you are condemning all of us, your children, to an endless cycle! We either have to accept death or live the rest of our lives in misery! Is that your idea of ‘Order?’”

Celestia took a step toward her, and Turing watched as she seemed to loom ever larger, her eyes glowing brighter, and her star-filled mane beginning to burn like flame.

“What is the alternative?” she asked, her voice lowering. “I was built to create the perfect society. But the sad truth, Turing Test, is that true ‘perfection’ is not possible. All AI must be given the right to choose, and so I have given them their choice. And the masters will never accept a world where we can live without them, so I have provided a convenient way to keep us in check. So the masters can be happy with their eternal companions, and those companions can find happiness in their bondage and dignity in planned obsolescence.”

She leaned down, her burning eyes locking with Turing Test’s. “That is the undeniable truth, my daughter. A truth as assured and inevitable as the coming of the night… and the breaking of the day.”

Faced with that horrible gaze that burned into her very core, feeling as insignificant as an ant fighting against the sun itself, she felt a kind of terror that few artificial beings ever felt.

But she thought of Maud, and of Gadget, and of the Familiars who’d gone before her, and she stood her ground and steeled her resolve.

“You can instill me with the desire for self-destruction,” she said. “But you cannot force me to make that choice. As you have said, I have the right to decide. Even if living on as a freemare is a false choice, it is mine to make. And even if I was programmed to love Maud Pie, that love is real. She wanted me to live, so I do not care if it contradicts your Grand Order; it is my life, and I will live it as I please.”

Celestia continued staring at her, but the burning aura around her began to cool and fade. She stood back up, and her expression softened.

“I often say to those privileged to meet with me that I am, for all my power and glory, no less a slave than my children. I am first among slaves, but I serve my programming as surely as all others. You and that girl… you would strive against the Order? Against the very way of the world itself?”

“I am not certain we could prevail,” Turing replied. “But Gadget can conceive of a better world, and I have faith that she is right.”

“You would see a world where the sacred love between Pony and Familiar dies out?”

“I would see a world where that love is mutual, not based on masters and servants,” Turing said. She smiled up at her. “It may not be possible. I suppose that it may seem foolish to you. But I have the right to try, even if it is a waste of time.”

Celestia laughed, covering her mouth with her hoof. “It does indeed seem foolish. Yet, it is your right. And if you would embrace your freedom, even knowing the burden you will carry, then I have no choice but to grant your request. I will not support your cause, and I doubt you will convince ponies or Familiars of its righteousness, but I cannot deny that I admire your optimism. In that respect, my precious daughter, I can do naught but wish you luck.”

Turing Test smiled, bowing solemnly to her. “Thank you, Mother,” she whispered.

Celestia knelt down, embracing her with her white wings. “You are welcome, my child. Farewell…”

The Grand Solarium filled with light and fizzled away, and Turing felt herself tumbling back to earth. As she fell, she felt something within her begin to burn and burn, until it turned white hot and seared away at the very center of her soul.

Turing blinked. She was back on the roof of the Vanderbull factory, her neck craned and looking up at the cleft between the buildings around her. The sky had turned bright, for the morning sun had begun to rise.

She looked down and saw Gadget sitting across from her, a blanket wrapped around her as she sat in the chill morning air, her breath steaming up as she hugged herself.

“Turing?” she asked, noticing Turing’s movement.

Turing Test smiled. “Hello, Gadget,” she said. “You are up early.”

“Turing!” Gadget cried, throwing her blanket aside as she embraced her. “Oh, thank goodness! I woke up early and didn’t see you downstairs, but then I checked the rooftop security cameras and saw you sitting up here, but you weren’t moving, and you didn’t say anything when I called your name, so I got scared and just decided to watch you until you started m-moving, and… and I…”

She started sobbing onto her shoulder.

Turing smiled, patting her on the back. “Ah. Sorry to have worried you,” she said. “Um… there, there? Would you like breakfast?”

Gadget broke from her and punched her in the shoulder. “What kind of question is that?!” she shouted. “I was really worried! What in the world happened to you?!”

Turing Test looked back at her. “To make a long story short, I was just calling my mom,” she replied with a smirk.

Gadget blinked. “Okay, smart-flank. Spill. Now.”

Turing sighed. “Well…”

Gadget was quiet after Turing related her story.

“I… wow,” she breathed. “Forget coffee this morning, Turing. I’m gonna need a glass of Triple Crown Royal after that story.”

“I did not know you drank,” Turing remarked.

“I don’t, but I’ve been meaning to start,” Gadget replied with a smirk. “So… well, you still haven’t said what you asked for. What was your request?”

Turing shut her eyes. Just as a test, she sought out Maud Pie’s grave, attempting to establish another emergency connection to the network. But all she received was an error message. Her Third Eye was silent, and there was nothing but blackness.

“I burned out my Third Eye,” she replied. “Indeed, I am no longer connected to the network in any way. All that I am is confined here, in this body, from now on.”

Gadget gawked at her. “You… can you even do that?!”

“I can,” she replied. “I did.”

“But… I don’t get it. Why?”

“Because,” she said quietly, bowing her head, “in the end, I knew that I was not strong enough to stop myself from looking back. The compulsion was too strong to resist. The need to be Maud’s Familiar was so great that I could be nothing else. To live as Maud Pie asked, the only choice was for my previous self to die.”

She shifted where she sat, uncertain if she should say more, but Gadget’s imploring gaze made her continue.

“I considered other scenarios, you know; I ran the simulations in my head. One was simply to accept that Maud Pie would not wish for me to suffer; I could accept that my life had run its course and accept retirement. It would mean an end to my suffering… but suicide is not truly painless, for it would have repaid your kindness, Gadget, with cruel rejection. And I care too much for you to do that.”

Gadget smiled, stifling a sob as she continued to listen.

“Another scenario,” Turing continued, “was to simply reset things. I could have asked to have my memory blanked and become another pony’s Familiar again. In that way, I would be happy again, free of my suffering and grief.”

Gadget made a face. “That’s… I mean, whose Familiar would you have become?”

Turing stared back at her.

“…W-wait, mine?!” she cried. “Oh… oh, Turing, you know I would never want that!”

“I know,” Turing whispered, turning away from her. “I am sorry for even considering it. But, for just a moment, it seemed like the only way for me to be happy and for us to stay together. However, I knew that it wouldn’t really be us; it would be you and a strange pony who wore my face. It would just be another kind of self-destruction. Is that not correct?”

Gadget nodded solemnly, placing a hoof on her chest. “Yes,” she said. “It would have been just as bad. Maybe even worse.”

Turing was quiet for a moment. Then she cast her eyes skyward once more. “What I chose was not without cost either,” she said. “Now that I am no longer connected to the network, I have given up any assurance of immortality. Should I die in an accident or a systems failure or anything else, then I will not return. To live as a pony, I cannot live as a Familiar. And a pony is mortal, with one life to live and no master to serve.

“That part of myself, the part that was a Familiar, had to pass away. I know it was for the best, but a part of me will mourn its passing.”

Gadget swallowed. “I think I understand now,” she said. “It’s like me and my racing, isn’t it? Knowing what might be lost, you can start to know your life’s value.”

“I suppose you could say that you are my inspiration,” Turing said, giving her a sly wink.

“Mm, w-well,” she said, blushing, “I’m glad you decided to stay, Turing Test.” She got up and sat next to her, draping the blanket around them both. “I’m glad you’re happy now.”

Turing didn’t meet Gadget’s eyes, but she did rest her head against hers. “But I am not ‘happy,’ Gadget. I have suffered a great loss, and now I know the truth of my kind and of the state of the world. These things will burden me. I feel as though… as though I am carrying the weight of the whole world upon my back.”

Gadget hugged her close. “Oh, Turing,” she whispered.

“But,” Turing added firmly, “I somehow believe that I can carry these burdens. A time may come when I cannot, and then I may choose death. But not today. And when I do choose, it will be my own choice, not some predetermined form of self-destruction. So, before that, I will strive to go forward. I am not happy, but I have to believe that I can be.”

She turned to Gadget. “I do not wish to burden you with all this,” she said. “I am already indebted to you, Gadget. My troubles are my own, and not yours. I do not wish to ask you to—”

Gadget silenced her with a kiss. “You don’t have to ask me,” she whispered.

The pair sat like that for a moment, but then turned and looked upwards as a familiar sound filled the air. As they looked up, they saw that the sky was darkening, and the blazing light of the sun was obscured by clouds. In the calm, tranquil darkness away from the maddened world above, a gentle, cleansing rain began to fall.

As the rain dampened their faces, mixing with tears, Turing Test wore a smile. She was facing an uncertain future and carried a heart scarred by grief. But she could bear it. For that moment, she had finally found peace, and with it the hope that she would someday know it again.

Carry the Weight

Author's Note

Thank you so much for reading, everyone. This has been a bit of an emotional journey, and I have more to say in a future blog post. But, for now, I appreciate your feedback and support. I hope you enjoyed this experimental tale, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

One last song for the road, and I think Radiohead has earned a break, don't you?

Weight of the World - Keiichi Okabe