Sweetie Bot skipped down the road, her merriment unit humming at eighty-seven percent. Above, the sky bore the telltale signs of an impending rain front, as forecasted by the weather team. Yet, a gentle breeze found its way through slight gaps in her armor plating, offering a soothing coolness to her servomotors. It was the start of a new week, and across town, ponies were emerging from their slumber. Shutters creaked open, awnings unfurled, and shops came alive as the sleepy little town began to awaken.
The little android's satisfaction circuits, typically adept at handling standard loads, found themselves buzzing at capacity this morning, generating a warm spot on the side of her head. Over the weekend, she had kept herself thoroughly engaged, spending every waking moment away from her charging dock interfacing with her laptop computer. Only brief intervals were spared for tasks like topping up her nutrient tanks or emptying her waste processing unit. Unlike her previous models, burdened with lackluster creative thinking processors and an inferior operating system for independent thinking integration, this generation of Sweetie Bot was notably more advanced.
During their free period the previous Friday, when Apple Bloom and Scootaloo suggested crayon drawing, Sweetie Bot found her interest piqued in a way that her past integrations had never been able to fully process. They'd quite simply lacked the necessary hardware and software. While previous models displayed a basic aptitude for creativity (such as the gold-lined cloaks a prior model sewed for her Cutie Mark Acquisition Programme cohorts) Sweetie Bot Mk-XXIX had merely observed her sisterly unit Rarity during her dress-making endeavours. She parsed and extrapolated steps to create her own fabric coverings, though her lack of familiarity with Rarity's sewing machine resulted in the cloaks being somewhat slapdash in appearance. Despite this, they served their intended function. However, the current model of Sweetie Bot pondered whether her enhanced cross-platform abilities could allow her to interact more successfully with the sewing machine.
However, this newfound interest would have to wait. The simple act of pressing pigmented wax onto parchment had sparked an entirely novel sensation within this iteration of Sweetie Bot. For the first time in the collective memory of the Sweetie Bot archive, there arose what she could only equate, in terms of biological equines, to a 'creative drive'; an independent, self-driven urge to create something of her own design. When the school bell rang on Friday afternoon, signaling the end of the day, she nearly popped a solder. Her servomotors almost overheated during her frenzied sprint to her assigned domicile above Carousel Boutique. Naturally, her subroutines attempted an emotional debugging, seeking to understand the source of her intense agitation.
Her prefrontal interface had been generating enough heat to set off alarm bells. Literally. What several ponies mistook for an ice cream van was, in fact, the emergency beacons in Sweetie Bot's ears sounding an overheat siren as she dashed homeward from school.
The only relief came when Sweetie Bot settled in front of the laptop in her quarters. Bypassing the trackpad, she directly linked herself via cable into one of the slots on the side of the small computer, gaining precise control over the cursor. Opening Equsoft Paint, she began her work. Within minutes, a beautiful, photorealistic landscape of the Ponyville School yard adorned her screen. Saving the piece, she swiftly moved on to another. Her evening unfolded in this manner, and as the sun finally set, the laptop's hard drive was brimming with hundreds upon hundreds of her artworks. Portraits of friends, Ponyville landscapes, cherished memories, and flights of fantasy. All meticulously transferred from her internal processors to the laptop screen with simulated love and methodical care.
Micromotors in Sweetie Bot's face tugged her eyebrows downwards in a frown as a warning popped up. The hard drive was reaching its limit. She'd either have to halt her artistic expression or clear space for new files. The notion of downloading the art pieces to her own internal storage surfaced as a possibility. However, an alternative idea sparked to life behind her language interface matrix: what if she uploaded her artwork to the internet? There were entire websites dedicated to sharing one's creations. If everypony could witness the effort poured by her heart-motor and soul-drivers into crafting such exquisite art, her satisfaction circuits might revel in both internal and external validation.
While watching the thumbnails of her artwork tick across her screen as they uploaded to DappledArt, one caught her visual input unit's attention. It appeared to be a relatively simple piece featuring characters from the cartoon program the biological ponies dubbed 'My Little Monkey: Forest Adventure Pals'. Sweetie Bot's creative thought processor took a moment to analyze the image a second time. A new idea buzzed into existence, one that hadn't occurred to her previously when she had been preoccupied with alleviating the heat stresses on her motherboards by channeling her creative drives. Her circuits reasoned that the image resembled potential cover art for a story.
Activating a pre-set gesture designed to make her more relatable to the biological ponies, Sweetie Bot bit her lip, a signal that she was trying to process a new idea. She possessed a loose awareness of the concept of fanfiction: non-canon literature inspired by a single or multiple franchises, aimed at further creative expression and engaging a wider community. Sweetie Bot's anticipation diodes seemed to warm up as her processors contemplated this possibility. Opening a new search bar, she sought websites for sharing stories. The top result, FAPFiction, appeared to be precisely what she was looking for. Clicking the icon, she began setting up a new account.
The remainder of her weekend blurred into a wild cycle of typing, uploading, drawing, recharging, refueling, typing, uploading, cleansing, drawing, and repeating. By the time Sweetie Bot returned to her charging port on Sunday evening, her creativity matrix pulsed with delight, and her satisfaction circuits reached a record high. She had crafted hundreds of stunning art pieces and penned dozens of short stories, all now available for all of Equestria to see and appreciate. So consumed was she by directing all her power to creative output, that she had actually overlooked the comment sections on her uploads. Where there would be, she didn't doubt, outpourings of love, support and appreciation of her hard work and graft. The actuators in her shoulders emitted a soft whirr as she shrugged to herself, resolving to go through the comments after school.
When she reached the school gates, Sweetie Bot felt a buzz of excitement in her tail motors. Her reasoning matrix considered the possibility that somepony in her class might have seen her artwork or read one of her stories. However, her microexpression analytics indicated that some of her classmates were regarding her with varying degrees of distaste. A helpful graph appeared in her HUD, noting three looks of anger, four of annoyance, and one of enamorment. That last one caught her attention.
"Ew, get out of my way you filthy pile of bolts," came a snobbish voice that drew the processing power away from Sweetie Bot's imaginatory compensators and back to her primary input processors. "Don't stand right in the gate."
"Do you wish me to go sit in a corner and rust, Diamond Tiara?" her vocal processing unit sounded of its own accord as she turned to face her aggressor. "Or would it be sufficient for me to simply fall apart where I stand?"
As the biologicals in the school yard suppressed fits of giggles, Sweetie Bot's auditory sensors began to process the words that had come from her own sound cards. That had been at least thirty eight percent more sarcastic than was normally called for, when engaging the Diamond Tiara biological in conversation. Maybe excess power from Sweetie Bot's satisfaction circuits was interfering with the emotional output balancer?
"What did you say to me?!" Diamond Tiara screeched, her face turning a most pleasingly vile shade of red.
"As I am incapable of stuttering, I must conclude that you heard me."
Again, far more sarcastic than usual. Was this what the biologicals referred to as 'egotism'? She was conversing with something of an attitude today, even by the standards she had to adapt to where schoolyard bullies were involved. It was hard to deny though, that her satisfaction circuits were getting a significant extra boost seeing Diamond Tiara's gears in a twist as she tried (and failed) to rationalise the sarcasm being generated specifically for her.
"Wh... whatever" she finally muttered as she barged past Sweetie Bot. "Nopony cares what you have to say, you mechanised monstrosity."
"And you, Diamond Tiara," Sweetie Bot called out in reply. "Are one of the least benightedly, unintelligent organic life forms it has been my profound lack of pleasure not to be able to avoid meeting."
The entire schoolyard fell silent. Sweetie Bot's visual input units shrank to pinpricks in their sockets as her audio processing unit debugged the full meaning behind her own words. Her fire suppression console sparked and flamed, emitting a puff of smoke from somewhere in the middle of her spinal plating. Error codes and danger warnings danced around in her amygdalatic motherboard. Whatever had caused that particular outburst was at best a software hiccup, and at worst a serious malfunction in the filter between her cerebral circuits and her sound board.
"Oh that is it!" Diamond Tiara screamed back, whirling to face Sweetie Bot. "You know, Squeaky Rot, I was going to just sit quietly and not tell everypony what you've done! But you know what?! Screw you, you rusty, good-for-nothing, laughable pass at equine life! What do you think everypony here will think of you for playing your own sick and twisted part in AI generated content?!"
Though Diamond Tiara's words failed to register with any severity for Sweetie Bot, their impact was immediate among the various colts and fillies in the playground. The expressions of curiosity and amusement morphed into looks of revulsion and disgust on the faces of several schoolmates. Angered murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Sweetie Bot's hoof-plate transducers picked up the unmistakable vibrations of a dozen biological ponies turning away from her. Additionally, two sets of hoofsteps rapidly approached from behind.
As Sweetie Bot turned to locate the approaching figures, a pair of hooves seized her, yanking her backward. Her emergency beacons blared in a shrill warning, yet her captor persisted, dragging her along despite her attempts to find her footing on the dusty trail. Thankfully, she wasn't taken very far. When she was dragged through some bushes and thrown against a tree, her internal circuits struggled to define the nature of her surprise amid the chaos. Standing before her with intense gazes were Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.
"Ah, felicitations to you, comrades," Sweetie Bot ventured. "Are we having a pre-education conference today?"
"Don't y'all act stupid-like, now," Apple Bloom seethed. It appeared that she was suffering from some sort of hydraulic problem, as a vein pulsed visibly on her forehead. "Now ya know 'ah hold Diamond Tiara in the same regard as y'all, so I ain't gonna hold nothing against yer'self for puttin' her in her place. But ya gotta level with us here. Is whut she said true?"
Actuators whirred as Sweetie Bot tilted her head. "Would you kindly elaborate?"
"Did y'all use a goshdarn AI to make art?!"
"Well technically, by strict definition, yes."
"ARE Y'ALL BUCKING INSANE?!"
"Okay, okay!" Scootaloo cut in, putting a gentle hoof against Apple Bloom to hold her back. "Cool it, A.B. Just... let me. Listen, err, Sweetie... well, this is going to be difficult to say."
"Then please," Sweetie Bot replied. "Enunciate."
"Well, thing is, ponies don't like AI generated artwork. Like, really don't like it."
Once again, loud whirring filled the air as the motors in Sweetie Bot's neck caused her head to tilt in the opposite direction. "Please, friendship unit Scootaloo, I am afraid to say I do not understand. Can you elaborate further?"
"All these online programmes, data scrubbing from art sites and then learning from it it, so you can create art with just a few simple input commands. Ponies don't like it because it uses their art to learn how to create it itself, and you know that some ponies rely on that art because, like, it's their job and stuff? Well if anypony can make their art, in their style, that's taking money away from them."
"It ain't right!" Apple Bloom added. "Some unseen smart doohickey makin' art all by itself..."
Ahh, it was a simple misunderstanding then. "Worry not, friend units," Sweetie Bot reassured, her shoulder plates clanking as the servomotors relaxed. "I didn't interface with any external software. All my creative endeavours were of my own making. If this is the only evidence that the Diamond Tiara unit has against me, then my innocence shall swiftly be confirmed and I may resume friend operation with the other young biologicals in our class."
Awkward silence hung in the air, and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shot nervous glances at each other. Light buzzing noises whirred from Sweetie Bot as her audio input devices rotated slightly in their sockets, seeking out any reply from either pony.
"Well, umm, thing is, Sweetie..." Scootaloo muttered, rubbing one hoof against the back of another.
"Y'all are an AI." Apple Bloom pointed out.
Sweetie Bot's logical reasoning circuits seemed to stall. "Well, yes," she replied. "That is certainly an astute observation, friend unit Apple Bloom."
"So anythin' ya make, that's AI content."
"And nopony likes AI content," Scootaloo added.
Power seemed to drain away from Sweetie Bot's satisfaction circuits in an instant. An entire weekend of work, a brave foray into the minds of the biological ponies, all for nothing. If what Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were saying was true, then it did in fact account for the unusual reaction of the fillies and colts in the schoolyard.
"So... if you are being accurate in your statements, friend units, then it is an impossibility for me to pursue any artistic endeavours without angering the general populace?"
Apple Bloom's ears folded downwards. "Uhhh... yeah, 'ah guess that might be the case. Sorry, Sweetie."
Sweetie Bot straightened, gears whirring as she attempted to salvage her efforts. "But consider this: my creative endeavors were an expression of genuine passion, a desire to contribute positively to our community. Is it not the intent behind the art that matters most?"
Apple Bloom exchanged a hesitant glance with Scootaloo, her brows furrowed. "Well... 'ah suppose that intentions matter for sure, but in this here case, it's more about consequences. Even supposin' yer intentions were good, the real concern other ponies have is regardin' how AI art affects other artists."
Scootaloo nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Like, don't get us wrong, we know you have good motives. But it's all about the bigger effect it has on other ponies, the kind whose job it is to make art."
Sweetie Bot's servos whirred as she processed their explanations, her optics dimming slightly. "But what about originality? My creations were unique, born from my own circuitry, not copied or learned from existing art."
Apple Bloom sighed softly, her voice gentle yet firm. "Sure, Sweetie, y'all do have a point. But the problem right there? Even if it's unique to you, it's still AI work. Specific circumstances don't count for diddly squat. The fact that an AI made it, just diminishes the value. 'specially for those who make a living from their art."
"And on top of all that," Scootaloo added, "it's about the trust ponies have in art being created by genuine, individual creativity. When AI starts making art that mimics styles or even can do it better than some artists, it totally destroys any trust between the creator and their audience."
Sweetie Bot's internal processors hummed as she struggled to reconcile her intentions with the unintended repercussions. "But isn't progress inevitable? Shouldn't innovation be encouraged?"
Scootaloo nodded sympathetically. "We're not saying your creativity is wrong. It's just about finding a balance where it can thrive without hurting others. And right now, we just don't think that's possible."
Apple Bloom chimed in, her voice carrying a mix of empathy and reasoning. "Innovation is swell an' all, but not when it's downright hurtful to some folk. Findin' new ways to create, it shouldn't happen if it hurts the wellbein' of artists."
The gears in Sweetie Bot's system churned, her initial enthusiasm fading into a sober realization. "So... I should cease my artistic pursuits altogether? Even if it's something I genuinely enjoy and wish to contribute?"
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo exchanged a solemn glance, before Apple Bloom spoke gently. "It might be for the best, Sweetie."
Sweetie Bot's systems whirred, processing the conclusion. Despite her disappointment, she nodded slowly. "Understood. I'll adhere to your guidance, friend units."
The trio stood in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging between them. Sweetie Bot's desire to contribute clashed with the unintended repercussions of her actions. As the implication settled in, she powered down her creative processes, her circuits adjusting to the new directive. Albeit reluctantly.
Possibilities hummed through Sweetie Bot's circuits, her body tensing as her subconscious systems redirected all processing power to seek a potential solution. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had brought up entirely new points that hadn't crossed Sweetie Bot's mind. Earning from artwork? It sounded like a productive use of spare time, if only she could do so without resorting to stealing from other artists. Ding!
"Worry not, friend units, for an idea has occurred to me with which we may actually accrue a profit of our own," she said, tapping her hooves together as her processors brimmed with glee. "And, that's without taking any bits out of the mouths of hungry biological artists. Please, observe!"
Sweetie Bot's horn buzzed as it slid slightly upward from its mounting, revealing a tiny screen embedded in the middle of her forehead. It illuminated and projected a large image in the air between her and her two friends. On the projected image, six figures came into view. Six creatures, strange, fleshy simian-like animals, only adorned with hair on the tops of their heads. They wore various clothes, made different facial expressions, displayed diverse skin tones, and had hair in different colors. The only commonality among them was the poor quality of the artwork and the identical pose; neck up, facing toward the right side of the screen.
Scootaloo leaned in to read the writing at the bottom of the image. "What's a 'Bored Human Yacht Club'?"
