I built Sweetie-Bot, and she terrifies me

by Cxcd

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sweetie Belle, Rarity, Random
Length: 5178

Hello. I created Sweetie bot. And I don't know why she's alive.

A long time ago, a saddened mare found Time Turner tinkering in his lab late one stormy night. After offering the stallion more bits than he knew what to do with, he created Sweetie-bot. All seemed fine, until the robot started doing things he didn't program it to do.

And then it started getting taller.

And healing on it's own.

This is going to get complicated, isn't it?

A story by me! Sweetie-bot belongs to the Friendship is Witchcraft series.

I made the cover art using Blender, and then drew Sweetie quite poorly in my notebook, then traced over her using Paint dot net.

Published 2023-02-12 07:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-02-12 07:50:01 UTC

Moi?

Slowly and delicately, like handling a fragile vase, Time Turner took his patient’s hoof in his own.

He stared upon the finely groomed white fur. Slotted right on the wrist, quite nastily, was a huge and terrible gash. It split straight down the foreleg, exposing much of what was inside. For any other filly, this was their worst nightmare. For any other filly, their immediate reaction would’ve been to start screaming, bleeding profusely and staining the green grass red below them. For any other filly, they would’ve been in the hospital thirty minutes ago as twelve doctors and nurses worked overtime to amputate the terribly mangled leg.

“How much longerrr?”

But Sweetie Belle wasn’t any other filly.

Sweetie Belle wasn’t composed of muscles, bones, and blood like the rest of pony civilization. She didn’t have a single nerve running through her entire body. Instead, she was of mechanical complexion. Where one would expect a brain would be a motherboard and high-capacity hard-drive. Where a heart should’ve been was a pulsating red mass that kind of resembled a heart, but not really. Turner didn’t put that there, it just was there.

“Eh?” Turner leaned forwards, observing the gash with his spectacles hung loosely on the bridge of his muzzle. “If I had to guess… thirty minutes?” He let go of her hoof.

“And that’s… normal?” A white unicorn standing nervously by the entrance to the garage asked. This was her first time witnessing her sister undergo ‘maintenance.’ Therefore, she didn’t seem to be very receptive to an almost stranger poking around her sister’s insides.

“Nominal.” Turner nodded. Rarity shot him a confused glance as she walked towards Sweetie. Turner quickly sat down in a green office chair he used around the shop, bringing his rear-hooves up and pushing off the table, the wheels of the chair pushing him over to the other side of the shop, to where he began collecting his tools.

The three ponies- or, two ponies and one robot- were currently positioned in the detached garage of Turner’s house. It was spacious, large enough store a decently sized cart. Unfortunately, a cart had not been stored in these walls ever since Turner moved in. Then moved out. Then moved back in. For now, the place was designated as his workshop, evident by the large amount of toolboxes and tinkered electronics laying around the place, up on workbenches, and being hung from shelves.

“It’s alright, Sweetie.” Rarity nervously said, placing a comforting hoof on her sister’s withers. “We’ll be out in no time.”

“Rarity…” Sweetie sighed. “Mom and dad take me here all the time. You can trust Turner. He’s the one who built me, after all.”

This, apparently, came as news to Rarity. She took her hoof off of Sweetie’s withers, suddenly coughing and sputtering as she looked indiscriminately at Turner. Turner, for his credit, looked up with a shrug, before going back to fetching his tools.

“I- I do not believe we have properly met, Sir Turner.” Rarity said. “And I believe I simply must hear this… story behind the creation of my dear sister.” She twirled her hair, looking around the low ceiling of the shop. “I knew she was built, but- not by some pony so local.”

“Name’s Time Turner.” He wheeled back over to the workbench that Sweetie was sitting on top of, dumping a load of once neatly organized tools onto it with a series of metallic clanks. “I failed collage twice, and the only diploma I have to my name is the one I graduated from Elementary school with.” He smiled smugly. “And yes, I built your sister.”

“Well…” Rarity forced a smile. “That’s quite… exotic.”

“Yup.” He took Sweetie’s hoof once again. “Sweetie, could you disable your pain receptors for a bit? This might hurt.”

“I can… do that?” She asked, apparently confused. Turner gave a hollow chuckle.

“Yes, you can do that.” He cleared his throat, pulling over a magnifying glass and chucking his spectacles safely to the side. “It should be under the ‘Central Nervous System.’ Can you find that?” Rarity watched, intrigued as suddenly Sweetie began staring off into the distance. Her eyes became unfocused and glossed over as her eyelids began to rapidly twitch. Rarity felt worry wash over her, and felt the need to say something.

“Uhh… there’s a lot here…” Sweetie said. “Can I just… turn it all off?”

“First time for everything, I guess.” Turner shrugged. “Give it a go.”

Interestingly enough, both Rarity and Turner simultaneously flinched as they heard a physical click, like something mechanically was flipped off inside of Sweetie. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed he flipped a breaker in the breaker box on the wall behind him.

Slowly, Sweetie’s eyes refocused. If he didn’t know the filly, he would’ve probably had an accident as Sweetie slowly turned to look at him.

“I have forgotten how to breathe.” She said simply.

“Well, that’s good.” Turner leaned forwards, positioning her hoof directly under the magnifying glass. “We can get to work.” He grabbed a pair of pliers, and began going to town on the open wound. Rarity watched from a distance, feeling a little sick at how ruthlessly Turner ripped out wires, boards, and micro-chips like they were nothing.

“So…” Rarity tried to break the ice. “Tell me more about Sweetie’s construction, if you don’t mind…”

“Meh.” He shrugged. “Not much to tell, honestly. A couple came to me late one night, and asked for a filly.” He placed the pliers down, grabbing a hot iron. “Told them yes, and made Sweetie.” Rarity almost instantly knew the tone of voice in which he was speaking. It was the tone of voice of a stallion trying to hide something.

“Please, Turner.” Rarity flashed a smile, leaning forwards. “I know a handsome stallion like yourself could spare the extra words to tell me what really happened that night.”

“Huh?” Turner lost concentration for a moment, looking at the mare. “I- I shouldn’t, really. It’s your parent’s story to tell.”

“Please. A handsome stallion like yourself-”

“I’m sure my stallion-friend would love to hear about how a mare tried coming on to me today.” Turned shot a frustrated glance at Rarity. Sweetie, due to her nerves literally being turned off, didn’t seem to flush as much as her sister did when it came to his statement.

“Please, Turner.” She sighed. “I simply must know.”

Turner bit his lip, mulling the idea over in his head a few times. He eventually let out a momentous sigh, turning to look at the white unicorn.

“If you promise to not tell your parent’s, then I may be able to… depart with some information.”

“Here we go again…” Sweetie tried to sound bored. And, in her favor, it worked. But not because her voice fluctuated, but because it came out as one big flat tone. Because her central nervous system was shut down.

“Oh, thank you, Turner!” She gushed, sitting down on the concrete floor.

“Alright…” He turned back to Sweetie’s hoof. “It all started about nine years ago…”

Turner looked at the pony standing in front of him. The garage looked significantly less full, most of the toolboxes not being bought yet, and little-to-no tools laying around to fill said boxes. The walls looked significantly more sparse, and it was obvious by the indents of the concrete, carts and carriages had recently lived in the large space.

“You want me to do what?”

Standing in the middle of the garage, her mane being idly lit by a dying orange flicker of a fluorescent light bulb, drenched in the pounding rain water from outside, was a unicorn mare. Her coat was pink, and her purple mane was bunched up in the back, nearly scraping the ceiling.

“I heard you are good at robotics.” She started slowly. “I want you to build me a filly.”

Turner’s head suddenly began hurting. He sat down on his flank, using both his hooves to massage the rapidly developing migraine.

“Me and my husband…” She began again, before Turner could finish his contemplating of the utterly ludicrous idea. “We had our daughter, Rarity, a few years ago. When we had her… the doctors did something. When we tried to conceive again… we were forced to end the pregnancy early.”

Turner looked up at the mare.

“You had… a miscarriage.” He said slowly, deliberately pronouncing every syllable. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “But… this is something that needs therapy. I can’t build you a filly, because that’s not how it works. That’s not how any of this works.” Turner watched as the mare’s facial expression fell.

“Why not?” She asked quietly. “We had our lives taken away from us… our own little life.” Turner heard her audibly swallow back tears. “Why won’t you build us a foal?”

“I can’t.” He enunciated, tapping a hoof on the floor. “At best, I can build you a robot that’s little more than an advanced play-doll. Cries when it’s hungry, falls asleep, that sort of thing.” He leaned forwards. “But you need help. I can’t replace your foal with a robot.”

“What if you were compensated?” She asked loudly and out of the blue. Turner raised his eyebrow, before giving a short, harsh laugh.

“It would have to be a lot of bits.” He shook his head, turning around and staring at his wall of tools.

“How does one-hundred grand sound?” She asked. Turner felt his heart freeze for a moment. He turned back around, witnessing as the mare levitated the largest sack of bits he had ever seen in his life. “I heard you want to go back to college. Would this cover it?”

“Wh- What?” The sack of bits had it’s levitation cut out. It, quite unceremoniously, landed on the floor with a thump, the top splitting open and spilling out the golden currency. He looked up, suddenly hopeful. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled despite herself. “I want you to build a white unicorn filly. My daughter’s mane is a curly purple. Maybe you could base it off of her. I’m not picky.” Confidentially, she began walking towards the closed door leading towards the outside world.

The last thing she heard before walking back outside into the rainy world was a faint ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

“I cost one-hundred thousand bits?” Sweetie asked.

“My parents had a miscarriage?” Rarity shrieked, her jaw almost hitting the floor. If she wasn’t already sitting on the floor, chances are that would’ve changed real fast. “I- I had no idea! That can’t be true, right? Right, Sweetie Belle?”

“Hormone scan of Sir Time Turner indicates truth.” Sweetie responded robotically.

“I prefer my sister with her nervous system turned on, thank you very much.” She huffed, apparently getting the creeps upon seeing her sister reverting back to her mechanical form. Then, she blinked, taking a moment to think. “Wait- you can tell when I’m lying?”

“Originally, I was against making Sweetie.” Turner explained, cutting off a concerned Rarity. “But your parents are loaded. If I wanted to go back to collage, I would be a complete fool to turn down her offer.”

Rarity merely bit her lip. She could understand where Turner was coming from. Making what, at the time, was considered a robotic doll would do nothing more than perpetuate the open wound of a miscarriage. For any pony, it wasn’t easy. And the solution was not to fill that wound with temporary supplements. The solution was to close the wound, and move on. But- at the same time, if Turner didn’t take the offer, she would’ve never had a little sister.

Rarity was taken back to the current date as her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a metallic clanging. Turner seemed to be finished with removing circuity, or cleaning the wound, and was now onto straightening the dented metal that surrounded Sweetie’s hoof.

“Well… what happened next?” Rarity asked. Turner let out a little laugh, barely redirecting his attention from Sweetie’s hoof.

“I built Sweetie. She wasn’t any bigger than a basket at the time. Nothing during her construction really screams to me as ‘this isn’t right.’ Except, of course, the huge bag of bits I had sitting in the corner.” He half-heartily gave a glance to the same corner, which was replaced with a metal safe. “I’m still gliding on the money I made constructing Sweetie.”

He took a deep breath, still hammering her hoof. “She was done in about a month. Maybe a little under. I used on-hoof materials, and due to a certain Boutique not being opened yet, she was completely metal in construct. Not a strand of fur on her.”

“And that was that?” Rarity asked. Turner sent her a long, sad glance.

“Not by a long shot.”

Boxes loomed over the stallion. It was obvious that he was in the middle of packing up, the garage’s walls being hidden by the cardboard.

For the second time in a few months, Turner was left absolutely stunned. His eyes were wider than dinner plates, his hooves began quaking like a stampede of cows were marching through town, and his heart beat sporadically.

“Mama?” It asked.

It. It isn’t alive. It was something that was no more than a hundred different bits of metal spread across his shop mere weeks ago. The robot was laying on his workbench, hooves wrapped around the purple blanket it found itself in. It’s white surface was a shiny white metal, reflecting the lights and bouncing it around into the stallion’s eyes.

Her eyes were mechanical Two LCD displays with green irises in the center. Turner furrowed it’s brows, looking deeper into it’s eyes.

“Mama?” It asked again, it’s voice speaker gaining a quivering edge to it. The mare, that Turner had since learned her name was Cookie, stepped in front of the robot and Turner, separating the two from each other. She leaned forwards, placing her pink hoof into it’s grasping little white ones.

“Mama is right here, sweetie…” Cookie said, giving the robot comfort. Turner could practically feel his stomach drop, suddenly realizing the terrible mistake he had made.

“N-No.” Turner took a step back. “No- s-she isn’t-” He took a shuddering breath. “I’ve made a mistake… Cookie, you don’t think she’s alive, do you?”

Cookie stayed silent, now using her other hoof to stoke the mechanical filly’s metal mane.

“Cookie, she isn’t alive.” He resolved. “This isn’t morally right, and she isn’t alive.”

“You’re not there…” She said quietly, still looking upon the robot. Turner blinked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “You’re not there to see what she does. She- she copies us. Does things that Rarity did at her age. I- I swear to Celestia, it’s like she really looks at you.”

“I programmed her to recognize and follow faces.” Turner explained, a frustrated tone edging into his throat. “You’re getting attached to metal.”

“There’s something behind those eyes.” She whispered. “She isn’t just ones and zeroes.”

“Look- whatever it is, give me five minutes.” Turner picked up a screwdriver. “I’m sure I crossed a wire in her head, or something. I can be in and out of there in a jiffy-”

“No!” Cookie suddenly whipped her head around. “No- you can’t! She isn’t defective!”

“Then you’re crazy.”

“I’m not crazy!” The crazy mare yelled. “Sweetie is different!”

“Sweetie- you named it?” He pulled a hoof over his mane, flattening it frustratingly. “This is a damn intervention!” His voice began raising to almost a shout. “You lost your unborn, and I know it’s painful! But- I- I should’ve never taken those bits! Replacing them with a- a machine isn’t the solution!”

Turner’s breath caught in his throat as he heard a noise. A noise that was… very much unexpected.

The sound of crying.

Cookie turned around, picking up Sweetie with both of her hooves. She sat down on the floor, rocking the robot back and forth, hushing it as it cried.

His stomach turned, and for a moment, he was scared he was going to vomit. A broken, sad mare, coddling the closest thing to her unborn child she would ever have. It was just too much. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning around and faced a wall.

“Just… get out of my garage. Please.” He sighed. “I don’t ever want to see you here again. Make me forget this ever happened. Please.”

He listened as hesitant hoof steps left the building. He felt terrible.

“You seemed pretty stubborn back then.” Sweetie observed. Turner groaned, putting a hoof over his face.

“Sweetie!” Rarity exclaimed. “That’s no way to treat a gentle stallion!”

“It was true.” He nodded. “I guess I was pretty stubborn. Sweetie… confused me. She was the first thing that I made that broke my own rules.” He used his hoof to pull up his mane, exposing his blank forehead. “Earth-ponies don’t have much magic, as you can see.” He let his mane fall back flat. Rarity winced as it didn’t go back perfectly to the way it was before. “Technology and science is what I stand by. It’s the constant in a world full of chaos. When something violates that rule, aka Sweetie, it’s a little scary.”

Rarity looked slightly uncomfortable, but eventually nodded along. “I can see the rationale behind it. It’s a little strange how mother and father never mentioned this…”

“Well… I don’t know if they really wanted you to know any of this.”

“Cat’s out of the bag, darling.” She smiled. Turner rolled his eyes, wrapping Sweetie’s hoof in a bandage.

“You can turn back on your nervous system.” He said, watching as Sweetie faintly winced at the feeling, rolling her hoof back and forth and feeling the pricks of pain that came along with it. She took a big gulp of air, filling her artificial lungs.

“I forgot how good it feels to do that!” Sweetie chirped, suddenly sounding like the filly she once was, and not some terrible mono-toned machine.

“I’m happy, Sweetie.” Rarity nuzzled, picking up her sister with her magic and depositing her on the floor. Sweetie got about two steps before she put too much weight on her injured foreleg, collapsing under the weight and bashing her chin into the floor.

“Careful!” Turner sucked air between his teeth. “I don’t want you in twice in one day!”

“’m good!” Sweetie said, rubbing her chin.

“But… doctor?” Rarity asked. Turner let a little laugh out at being called a ‘doctor,’ as failing college twice does not count towards being called a doctor. “Shouldn’t one repair Sweetie’s hoof… fully?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, leaning back in his green chair.

“I mean- she’s a robot.” Rarity stated bluntly. “She can’t heal. She needs replacement parts, unlike ponies.”

“Well…” He leaned forwards. “Sweetie isn’t… a normal robot. Far from it.” He let a smile out. “She is the most advanced piece of machinery Equestria has ever seen, and I can’t even begin to comprehend how she works.”

Sweetie began blushing.

“Sweetie repairs herself, much like a normal pony would heal. All I had to do was go in and reset a few fickle pieces so it heals back normally. Like how if some pony broke a bone, a doctor would go in and set it right so the bone would heal correctly.” He laughed again. “And she also grows like a normal pony. I didn’t build her to be three feet tall. When I first built her, she was smaller than a carrying basket.”

“I knew she got taller, but- that wasn’t you?” Rarity asked. “I just assumed mother went in for upgrades.”

“Nope. Her body did that all for her.” He adjusted himself on the chair. “Remember how I said she was constructed out of metal?” He nodded towards the filly. “Well- why does she have fur now?”

Rarity had to take a look. Sweetie looked out of it, and almost bored, as a matter of fact. But that was an interesting question. Why did she have fur? Fur that was almost, if not, completely identical to real pony fur?

“These… things you notice…” Rarity started. “When did you realize Sweetie wasn’t quite… a normal robot?”

“It was after I came back from my second try at college…”

Three years had gone by since he had last seen the robot. It was once again summer, and Turner was trotting down a dirt path towards the market square. Believe it or not, he was still coasting on the bits he had made from Cookie commissioning a filly. Even after going to college a second time, and even after failing a second time.

Despite feeling reinvigorated for this second phase of life, Turner still held a bag of guilt over his shoulders. A bag filled with the memory of listening to that mare try and soothe an inanimate object. It struck him to the core, and very well made him realize how fragile life was, and how easily some pony like him could come in and destroy the mental integrity of another living being.

Nowadays, things have changed, while having next to nothing change. It was still his same old house, being when he moved out the place sat abandoned until he came back. It was the same old garage, same old workbenches, and same old worn concrete flooring.

He felt cheerful. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the sound of foals playing in the distance run through his head.

“Mom, look!” He heard a filly from somewhere to his right say. “It’s a lily!”

“That’s a rose, dear.” An older’s mare voice spoke. Turner’s ear twitched at the unexpected familiarity, his face adorning a sour look as he stopped in his tracks.

“Can I have?” The filly asked.

“I don’t see why not…” She sounded hesitant. “Be careful, dear. It’s pointy on the stem.” Turner furrowed his eyebrows, and against his better judgment, turned to look at the scene unfolding a few yards away.

There was Cookie. Pink coat, purple mane. She was sitting down in the grass, watching as a filly ate a rose in front of her, also facing her direction.

The metaphorical bag of guilt slowly released from Turner’s shoulders as he watched the scene play out. Finally. Finally. The mare had moved on to greener pastures. Perhaps she had another foal, or perhaps she had adopted a unicorn filly.

A unicorn filly that…

Wait.

A Unicorn filly that looked suspiciously similar to the robot he had constructed in his workshop years ago. Even though the filly was facing away, the similarities were obvious. She had a white coat with a two-toned purple and pink mane. She had a little horn, and no Cutiemark.

“Oh, Turner?” Cookie looked up, realizing she was being watched. “It’s been a while since I last saw you. How are you doing?”

The filly turned around, and Turner jumped out of his skin.

She had the same LCD eyes. A black void with green irises. The same thing he had programmed back in his workshop. It was impossible. Borderline insane.

But the filly was the same robot.

She had fur, a real mane, and stood twice as tall as she did before.

It. It stood twice as tall as it did before.

“Hello!” The robot chirped. Turner’s jaw opened wide, suddenly cognizant that the voice he was hearing was completely artificial, but sounded identical to a real living pony. “Do you want one, sir?” It offered a rose. Turner didn’t say anything, instead opting to stare at it’s hooves.

“Are you okay, Turner?” Cookie asked. “You seem a little-”

“I didn’t program this…” He whispered quietly. “H-How long has this been going for?”

“I don’t know what you mean-”

“You know what I mean!” Turner raised his voice. The robot’s ears fell flat, suddenly backing up and into it’s mother. “Why is it talking? I didn’t program talking!”

“Shh!” Cookie reprimanded, laying a comforting hoof over the robot’s withers. “You’re scaring her.”

“Scaring-” He let out a snort worthy of a mustang. “What circuit in your head is telling you you’re scared, huh?” He asked the robot. “Do you think this is some kind of game? Are you tricking these ponies?”

“Sir- You’re scaring me!” The robot responded, sounding terrifyingly authentic.

“That’s it!” Cookie raised her voice back. “Sweetie, we’re going home!” She turned away, bumping Sweetie along with a free hoof. She shot a glare back in Turner’s direction, who shot a similarly composed glare right back at Cookie.

Something was different about that robot.

And it scared him.

“Alright, Sweetie… I concede. Turner did seem a little stubborn back then.” Rarity sighed. Turner laughed, looking almost proud of that fact.

“To be fair to myself, the alternative was admitting Sweetie was alive. Which- at the time- seemed utterly insane.”

“Like I said.” Sweetie hid her giggle behind a hoof. “Stubborn.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” He waved a hoof.

“When did you realize Sweetie was alive?” Rarity asked. “Because obviously you did, because I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you didn’t.”

“Well- I believe Sweetie knows when.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, yes. I believe it has to do with a particularly bad mane day…”

It wasn’t much longer until Turner had another Sweetie encounter. His garage felt friendly, like an old face he was bumping hooves with. He slotted right back into his home like nothing had changed when he got back- and as much as it pained him to admit it- nothing really did change.

The garage door was open wide and streaming light into the cavernous room. He was muzzle-deep in one of his many drawers where he used his hoof to perfectly align a wrench in a drawer, making a perfect gradient from smallest to largest.

He smiled contently, looking around at his work. It really, truly did feel like home. And he almost regretted trying to move away from Ponyville in the first place. He closed the drawer, and turned around.

And that’s when he saw her again. He froze, his smile fading as he stared at the filly in the middle of his garage.

That’s what it was. A filly. Her eyes, instead of being the souless LCD displays of days past, was now completely normal green eyes. She was completely indistinguishable from any other filly on the street. Even since the last time he had seen her, she had grown even taller. Despite only being built four years ago, he would’ve guessed she was about seven or eight years in age by appearance.

“Excuse me, sir?” It asked in an oh-so-pony voice. “Mommy says you built me… and I need your help.”

“What.” He stated. Turner sat down, rubbing his eyes with his hooves, blinking to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

“Can you help me?” It asked.

“Uhm…” He furrowed his brow, looking around. What was he supposed to say? If he began treating it like a normal pony, he would’ve been fore fitting his stance as it being a robot instead of a living being. But… on the teeny-tiny off-chance it was sentient, would he be hurting her feelings? “S-Sure?” Was the best he could get out.

“Awesome!” It shouted, it’s voice squeaking in a high-pitched voice-crack, much like an over-excited filly it’s age would do. “I was thinking about dying my mane green! Like a lime-green! But- my sister, Rarity, says its a bad idea…”

“Uh-”

“So, since you built me, I was wondering if you could replace my mane all together!”

The idea was… just so pony. It was exactly the idea a filly would create, but- there was no way she did this by herself, right? He had to come up with a rational explanation! This robot couldn’t have thought of it itself!

“What’cha say?” It asked.

“Uh…” He blinked. “Sure?”

“Yeah!” The robot jumped for joy. Like a filly would. “How do we start?”

“Err…” He reached a hoof out, hesitating a few inches away. “Do you… mind if I touch it?” Turner wasn’t exactly sure why he asked, if his morals believed she wasn’t alive.

“I mean- your gonna have to eventually.” She nodded. Turner put his hoof down, feeling her mane. It felt just… so real.

“Oh. This is PBC-2v4 Plastic.” He observed. “It was a creation I did back in my second try at college in order to simulate hair. As you can see, it worked pretty well.” He tried to ignore the fact that Sweetie was built before he invented his plastic, therefore she wasn’t made with the plastic, and somehow sprouted his own plastic.

“Is this gonna be a while?” She asked.

“No, not at all…” He rubbed his chin. “It should just take a battery and a few terminals. I put in a fail-safe mechanism to re-color the hair.” He walked towards a toolbox, retching it open and digging through the supplies, being careful to not damage his hard work in organization. “When an electric current is applied at the correct frequency, the crystals in the plastic will kind of ‘tune’ to it’s corresponding color. You wanted green, right?”

“Light green. Like a lime.”

“Right.” He pulled out a small contraption with a huge knob on the front from a toaster, the whole thing being wrapped in duck-tape.

Why did he say all of that? To a robot? And why did it feel so natural?

“Right… this might tingle a bit.” He said, attaching the two clips to her mane.

“Ooh-” Sweetie shivered. “It’s cold.”

“Tell me if it’s… too… much.” He furrowed his brows, realizing that he was making sure the robot was comfortable.

Was he really ready to accept that he created a living machine?

Probably not. But he was going to do it anyways.

“It was you!” Rarity shouted, startling both other ponies in the room. “Sweetie came back that day with the most gaudy hair I ever have seen! I couldn’t wash it out, so I told her to go back and fix it! And she did!”

“You couldn’t wash it out, because I physically changed her hair.” Turner laughed. “Oh, but I’m sure it was funny!”

“It wasn’t!” Rarity shouted. “Sweetie had picture day at school the next day!” She shuddered. “Panic like never before!”

“Well, I liked it!” Sweetie said. “It fit with my eyes.”

“It did not!” Rarity chat sized, patting Sweetie on the mane. “Your eyes are a dark green. That hair looked almost radioactive.”

Turner could only laugh, watching as the two sisters bickered back and forth.

Sisters. Because that’s what they were. A pair of ponies, inseparable by any means. Even if one of them was the robot, and in Turner’s personal opinion, was currently being possessed by the ghost of an unborn foal. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that both of them were happy.

He let out a content sigh.