Cyberpony Y2K

Manehattan, 1997

Octavia Melody fixed her goggles over her eyes, then leaned in close to the power box. "I think I have this mostly fixed now, Sir," she said. "Shouldn't take more than a..."

With the connection of the two wires, sparks blasted out from the box, causing Octavia to yelp and duck back. She was rewarded, however, when the porch lights suddenly came back on.

"Ha!" She dusted her hands, turning back to her current employer. "Told you I could do it, Sir."

Goldbricker laughed. "That you did, Melody. And this way I don't have to get up and hire an electrician!" He barked another laugh. "Though, maybe you should get the soot cleaned off before the Missus sees you."

Octavia grimaced, pulling her goggles off and letting them hang around her neck. "Perhaps. Although this isn't exactly my Sunday finest to begin with." She looked down at herself. Baggy work pants and a loose shirt and vest that she'd been wearing for three days straight, to save the extra bit or two that laundry would cost her. She dusted off her vest, then sighed. "You may have a good point, Sir."

Goldbricker was a somewhat portly, jovial Earth pony. He wore a gold-trimmed suit, with a concentrated effort to have his tie loose only when his wife wasn't in the room—whenever she could see him, it was conspicuously tidy. While Octavia had been sticking her arms up to the elbows in a mess of wires, he had been practicing.

Goldbricker let the four balls he'd been juggling fall neatly into his arms, then slipped them away into his suit's pockets. "Not bad for a man who's avoided practicing anything his entire life," Goldbricker said. He stretched out his hands wide, a grin on his face. "I daresay this chip was the best purchase I've ever made." He pointed to the implant in his forehead.

"You spent twelve hundred bits so you could juggle?" Octavia asked slowly. "Pardon me, Sir, but that seems like something of a waste. Especially when most ponies just learn to do so."

"Yes, but learning requires effort, dear Octavia," Goldbricker said. He tossed one of the balls in the air again, easily snatching it as it fell again. "You see, with this, I can juggle easily enough, and then go back to sitting down. Maybe watch some television. Perhaps juggle while watching television."

"Sir," Octavia said slowly, "while you make a very good point, I do not think it is twelve hundred bits worth of a point."

"Now, now, most ponies would have bought only a class two," Goldbricker said. "That's only eight hundred bits. To think, Octavia, that we live in an age so that anypony can instantly learn how to juggle for only eight hundred bits!"

"If I ever fancy the idea, I'll start saving up," Octavia replied smoothly. "Until then, I shall have to content myself my with gardening."

"Ah, of course. Now, no chip's going to help me with that! You're flowers could give any professional a run for his bits!" Goldbricker laughed, tossing the ball into the air again. "I'm quite glad that Fancy recommended you to us, truly I am."

"Yes, well," Octavia said briskly, "as I am, believe me. But I must go and wash off now, Sir."

"Ah, yes, sorry for...bringing that up. Go, go! Get you cleaned up."

Octavia took off at a quick trot, heading for the groundskeeper's lodge. Groundskeeping. A far cry from what she'd wanted to do with her life. She hadn't been an avid gardener before, but she'd learned enough. Enough so that when she found herself losing her apartment, she'd managed to get a job at a florist. It had been miserable work, then, no matter well how she'd grown the shopkeeper's petunias. Up until, one day, her old friend Fancy Pants had wandered into the shop.

She was quite grateful to him for helping set her up with Goldbricker, to tend his garden and mow the lawn and do a number of other small tasks. However, she couldn't ever forget that she was here, instead of on stage.

Playing in the dirt, instead of playing the cello.

It was a quick shower—Goldbricker and his wife paid for the water, of course, but she didn't like to waste their money. Quick shower, and then into an identical pair of clothes, and then she was back to work.

Octavia trotted back to the main gate, letting her goggles hang around her neck, and she flipped the switch.

The lights came on, though she couldn't see it well, and she nodded to herself. Another broken thing fixed. With the amount Goldbricker was paying her, she was well determined to make sure he got his money's worth.

Octavia looked back over the lawn. She'd just mowed it yesterday, and in the crisp fall air, it wasn't growing back particularly fast.

She nodded to herself. Best to leave it like it was, especially with how the lawnmower had been acting yesterday. Sputtering occasionally and all. She was half-worried it was breaking down.

She looked up at the sky, watching as the sun began to set. Then, Octavia took off for the garden.

Some nobles kept several massive gardens on their estates. Goldbricker was not a noble, but he was absolutely rich. Some ponies were talking about how he might be the first pony to earn a noble title in centuries. Octavia didn't buy that. While he was certainly a brilliant, kind pony, she just couldn't see him being given a noble title. Especially with how he was against a lot of the current policies on androids. Quietly so, but enough to make her think that Princess Celestia might not want to bestow the title on him.

Octavia stepped out onto the terrace, amongst all the gleaming flowers, and smiled to herself. Well, let ponies talk about dirt and grunge; you couldn't grow sunflowers without getting up to your elbows in muck sometimes.

Rows of roses, sunflowers, and violets spread out before her, and she cracked her knuckles.

She paused when she noticed the missing pot.

Octavia trotted over, blinking in surprise and shock, then turned to look to the side. The pot lay, shattered on the ground, with her prize-winning rosebush crushed. Just behind it was a guilty-faced Goldleaf.

Goldbricker's daughter sat there, rubbing her elbow, not quite looking at Octavia's face, and her large, bouncy ball at her feet.

"Miss Goldleaf," Octavia said, respectfully but sternly, "would you mind telling me what happened here?"

"Well, I...I..."

Octavia put her hands on her hips.

"I broke the pot containing your biggest, prettiest rose, because I was...playing with my ball," Goldleaf said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You better be, young mare," Octavia said, kneeling besides the pot. "You are too old for this. And you have absolutely been told not to play in the gardens before."

"I informed her of this three times," the android behind her said. One of the 'Silver Guard' model, they had taken to calling her Silver Star, or often just Silver.

"What...what should we do? Can we fix the flower?"

"No. It's too crushed at this point." Octavia began sweeping up the broken pieces of the pot, then sighed. "Miss Goldleaf, you must go and inform your mother of what you did."

Goldleaf hesitated.

"Miss Goldleaf. This flower took me six months to grow, and it was the only one I've been able to grow like this. One way or another, your mother will hear about this. You must go at once and admit to what you did."

"Yes, Miss Octavia." Goldleaf hung her head, then sighed. "I'm sorry I killed your flower."

"It's fine. Your mother will be more upset—after all, it was her bits that made it so good, not mine."

Goldleaf winced. "I'll go tell her," she said morosely. True to her word, she walked off, facing the floor as she did so.

"Make sure she actually does so," Octavia told Silver quietly.

"Yes, Ma'am," Silver said. "Maybe you should give a call to Mr Fancy. One of his gardeners might know how to keep it alive."

"I doubt it," Octavia said with a sigh. "Now run along. Goldleaf's getting ahead of you."

Silver turned and marched off. Octavia swept up the remaining dirt and broken pottery, then sighed, dumping it and the destroyed rosebush into a trash bin.

She walked over to the house, taking it off its mount, and was just about to start wattering the rest of the plants when her phone rang. She hesitated, then checked the caller.

Mom

Octavia swiped the ignore button, pocketed her phone, then proceeded to water the remaining plants.

She'd always found it funny how exacting plants could be. Water every day, sometimes several times a day, but not too much! Very specific soil was required, for maximum growth. And a fierce determination to slay any bugs that so happened to assault your precious plant babies.

Pesticide wasn't her favorite thing in the world, but there was a case full of it in the corner of the garden, hidden discreetly under a table so Goldbricker's family wouldn't have to see it when viewing the garden. Sometimes, you had to do things you didn't like, she'd learned. And if that meant spraying industrial grade poisons all over the place, then that is what she would do.

Octavia set the hose down, attaching it back to its handle, then let out a contented sigh. A full day's work, done. Now she could enjoy...most of the rest of her evening.

She paused, listening to the sound of hoofsteps. Octavia half-turned, to watch a young mare in a red dress with gold trimmings come into the room.

"Miss Gold Star," Octavia said with a polite nod. "I was just finishing with the garden. I assume your daughter informed you of her mistake?"

"Yup," Gold Star said. "Gave her a good sound spanking for it." While she lacked the aristocratic accent, her voice never sounded unrefined, even when saying things like that.

"By the way, your mother called me again," Star continued, stepping up to Octavia's side.

"I must apologize on her behalf, because I know she won't," Octavia said. "If she keeps bothering you, please just ignore her."

Gold Star huffed, tipping her stetson back slightly. "Octavia, she is already convinced that I am somehow preventing you from calling her. Couldn't you at least give her a call?"

"No, Miss Star, I am afraid I cannot," Octavia said simply. "I've spent most of my life trying to do what I want rather than what she says. I'm not going back to Canterlot."

"Octavia, you are nobility, and I think you should enjoy the comfort that it provides. Or at least the financial stability!"

"If Mother provides it, I would rather starve," Octavia said shortly. "Regardless, even that extreme doesn't look to be on the table anytime soon."

"Yes, that is true," Gold Star said, hand to her head. "On the topic of not-starving, then, how about you join us for dinner?"

"I would hate to impose--"

"I know very well you forgot to purchase more groceries for yourself, Octavia," Gold Star interrupted. "You're proclamation aside, I am not leaving you to ramen noodles."

Octavia blushed, running a hand through her mane. "I do apologize, I was...distracted," she said slowly.

"By? Could it be...a stallion?"

Octavia pushed her gardening apron aside, pulling her handgun out of its holster.

Gold Star simply sighed. "Well, at least your splurge purchase is useful. My husband and my daughter both seem to love their bouncy rubber balls." She paused, then looked to the trash bin, where the remains of the rose sat.

"Both of them, cost me twelve hundred bits each with their fascination with bouncy balls," she muttered angrily.

Octavia reholstered her gun, chuckling. "Well, I shall clean up before dinner then," she said. "With your leave?"

Gold Star rolled her eyes. "You know we're more casual around here than that, Octavia."

"It would still be improper for me to address you in that manner," Octavia said firmly.

Gold Star rolled her eyes as she turned around. "You are your mother's daughter," she said simply.

She trotted off then, leaving Octavia alone with that statement.

Octavia had on her nice shirt—yes, singular—when she went into the dining room. Goldbricker was juggling again, Gold Star seated besides him, and Goldleaf sat between them.

Octavia couldn't help but smile, but tried to pretend it was a polite, dinner smile.

She took her usual place, opposite Goldleaf and just to Goldbricker's left.

"Ah, Melody!" Goldbricker said. "Catch!" He threw one of the balls at her face. It hit her square in the forehead, bounced off, and soared to Gold Star, who caught it mid-air without looking.

Octavia rubbed her forehead. "Nice one, sir," she said without emotion.

"Octavia, don't encourage him," Gold Star ordered.

"It would not be proper to say what I wish to," Octavia said.

"One day, you have got to learn to say some things that are improper," Gold Star said. "There is a time and a place for it."

"My employer's face will never be the place for it," Octavia replied smoothly.

"Dear Octavia, after you fixed the porch light, it would take something quite extreme for me to fire you," Goldbricker said.

"She fixed the porch light?" Gold Star asked with surprise. "Octavia, since when do you know anything about wires?"

"I've dabbled in quite a few professions, my lady," she said. "I've picked up a thing or two, and thought I might be able to put it to use."

"Miss Octavia knows lots of things!" Goldleaf chimed in. "She fixed the lock on the cupboard, too!"

"The lock on the cupboard was broken?" Goldbricker asked, looking to his wife. "When?"

"Only for eight months straight, my love," Gold Star said, annoyed.

"This is the first I've heard of it," Goldbricker muttered.

Gold Star let out a sigh that belied the number of times she'd asked her husband to get someone to fix it.

"I suppose what all I should say is that we are incredibly glad that Fancy sent you our way," Gold Star said, choosing to ignore her husband's ignorance.

"I...am quite glad I found my way here, too," Octavia said quietly. "You three...four, if you count Silver..."

"I hope you do," Silver said from her position behind Goldleaf.

"...have all been very kind to me," Octavia said simply. "Even though I'm just your groundskeeper. I don't imagine most families invite their groundskeeper's into dinner with them."

"Most families," Goldbricker retorted, "aren't mine."

"Well, more's the pity then," Octavia said, raising her glass Goldbricker's way. She sipped it in toast.

Funny. Sometimes, I bemoan my career. But I'd never have met Goldbricker then. Why do I still grieve for it? I have enough.

She let out a contented sigh, smiling to herself as she set down her cup.

I do hope these days never end.