Rack replacement, check.
Vacuum tube inspection, done.
All that's left is the socket replacement over in 7B. I follow the umbilical cord, pulling myself along as I pass layers of my life in sticky notes. A faded 'do NOT put cake in her RAM banks, it WONT make her faster' hangs next to a crisp 'SKT 36 FCKD, RPLCT 21/05 03/06'. I tear the latter down with my mouth as I wire up the replacement and kick it into place. I keep the old note, because she still tries to play that prank on me.
"All done, princess," I say around the plug as I connect it.
"Running diagnostic," comes Celestia's melodious voice from my headset. "Socket 36 is green. Excellent work as always, Twilight Sparkle."
"It's a failsafe for a failsafe. Probably won't even need it." Humility fails to extinguish the pride burning in my chest. I pull myself along the tunnel's rungs, blinking reds steadily overwhelmed by the terminal room's fluorescence. I blink as I stand, shaking out my mane, then walk to the console. My hooves easily find the grooved input pedals and I stretch, popping my joints noisily. Microprocessor manuals flutter to the floor in a purple glow as I search for my thermos and unscrew it, floating it over for a swig of tea. It doesn't taste like much, but it's hot.
Today's shift started with haranguing Starlight from Engineering for that overdue part, and I definitely feel it in my drooping eyelids. Interacting with the other crew always takes it out of me. You'd think the pony with sole responsibility for the hardware behind the AI which makes all the big decisions on the ship would have a little more pull, but no.
"You're not going out?" said AI asks, disappointment overlaid on her smooth voice. "There's a festival today."
"Oh yeah. Ninety-seven years 'til planetfall, yay." I'll have been dead for thirty years, if that.
"Celebrating milestones with friends is a wonderful salve if you're feeling directionless," Celestia supplies in her perfectly harmonious tone. The old adage grates on me. Her personality interface isn't crude; it's designed for ease of use first, wellness second, and caring nowhere. When I got lost in the memory banks as a filly, she called a guard to extricate me, but she couldn't hold me while I cried afterward — she's not a real pony. But that's why...
"I like it here with you," I mumble, then drown the sentiment with more tea.
In my spare time, I'm an archivist. Celestia's filesystem is even more labyrinthine than her mainframe, filled with history to inform her ethics weighting, but a lot of it is still pony-readable. Not that it matters — the last generation has memory, the next hope. My generation... prefers not to know. I've read a lot, though. Some pictures and a lot of text, a sprawling digital library.
I'm delving through an obscure sector when I find something.
"Princess?.."
"Yes, Twilight Sparkle?" Unconcerned. Perfect.
"What are these files?" I ask, jiggling the cursor.
"These are my core memories, which underpin the values of my ethics core, as well as the tone of my interface. They're mostly footage and edicts of my progenitor." I've heard of the fair princess who sacrificed herself so the shadow that fell on Equus couldn't follow us, but never read about her myself. The older generation speaks of her like each is grieving a private loved one.
I play a video.
Vivid blue practically spills out of the screen, accompanied by the sound of birds in the boughs of the swaying trees. The camera turns and pans up, past broad white wings and a flowing aurora mane, then rests on the face of a mare unlike anypony I've seen before. Her smile must be what sunlight feels like — warmth seeps through my coat and makes a home there.
"Hello, my little pony." That's her voice, but it's not. It's as stark a contrast as the background birdsong is to the atrium's prerecorded snippets. "I'm overjoyed, you know. I always knew the time would come for you to squirm out of my embrace and find your own hoofing. I wish it happened under better circumstances, but... You will all experience so much. A new life on a new planet, away from the shadow of my mistakes.
"It will not be easy. The path is long and not easily tread. That is the way of things — good things do not come easily. But they do come, eventually." Even separated by decades, I can feel how deeply she cares for me. "Just keep in mind that no matter how far you go... Even when you forget me... You will always be my little pony."
The screen cuts to unfeeling void-black.
Tears run silent tracks through the dust on my cheeks. You loved us so much, didn't you, princess? So why did you forsake me to a life in the dark? I hate the hydroponic gardens and the anemic tomatoes and the cold yellow light filtering through the painted sky. I only want to eat ashy rations which barely resemble food so I forget what I've read of banquets. I only want to hide in the dark wire-warrens, away from mockeries of the sun.
"Celestia?"
"Yes, Twilight?" No hint of that undertone of pain and longing in her voice.
"I'd like to assign myself a new designation."
"Certainly. Please recite your new designation." Perfect, even, but... still her.
"... My little pony."
"Designation updated. Is this satisfactory, my little pony?" The shadow of a pony who loved even me.
I can't force an answer from my throat. Instead, I slump forward and snuggle up under her console, barrel pressed against her heat sink. It's warm here, and when my eyes slip closed I see blue swimming out of the dark. In my dream, it's a beautiful summer's day in Equestria, and Celestia's sun is so warm on my chest that I forget I've ever been cold.
