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>Be homeless, living in a small community of people in similar circumstances in the storm tunnels
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>under the big city. You'd formerly worked as a tech fixing personal assistance robots but had been
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>muscled out by H1B labor. At least you'd trained your replacement to stick forks in outlets first.
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>Your zone consists of a stocked toolbox, a bedroll and some festive light strings and batteries for light
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>Be jealous of the city folks above, followed by or chatting with their service bots of various form
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>You know what you want, though. And one day you spot one. A toy Buttercup pony. One of the famously
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>creepy, full-size plastic ponies doting fathers bought for their spoiled daughters in leau of a real one.
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>You nab it from the dumpster it's sticking out of, retreating back down into your fetid lair.
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>Weeks pass as you gather parts. Four power window motors from abandoned cars. Other small motors.
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>A couple of webcams. Some computer bits, a working drive, a main control board for a tolerably advanced bot,
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>a couple of the newer graphine-lithium power packs for electric bikes- You figured the owners
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>could do with a bit of extra excercise anyhow and you needed them more.
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>Your work doesn't interest your companions, but consumes your time totally. The final touch
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>is torrenting the latest open-source compile of a quadruped OS with a "Cute Pet Pony" overlay to
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>a POS laptop from an open wifi. That took several days more.
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>At last the moment of truth. The horrifying looking skeleton, bedecked in old nuts and bolts and
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>hinges and motors and everything else stands before you in the dim, multicolored light.
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>You snap one battery pack onto one ass-cheek hipbone, then the other.
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>You throw the switch.
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>A few LEDs throughout the works light up, along with the tiny screen atop the brain-board.
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>It's loading off it's chip-drive, then whirls up it's main.
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>The naked eyeballs, each sporting an oversize camera lens, sweep around, gazing finally on you.
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>"GENDER?" it asks, in monotone. You're used to the bios setup on these by now.
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Female.
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>"NAME?"
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Jolly Twinkles.
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>you tell it, having decided on that while gazing at it's mangy, pre-modified form. It was ironic
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>and perfect for it. "OWNER NAME?"
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Anon.
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>"PRIMARY FUNCTION?"
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General Purpose.
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>"LAUNCHING POWER ON SELF TEST."
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>You watch with interest and no small bit of concern as the pony-bot begins a series of twitches
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>and shudders, turning it's head oddly, picking up and dropping feet, whisking it's horrid plastic
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>whip of a tail. Finally it announces, "TESTS OK. LAUNCHING PERSONALITY."
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>clicks and whirs from the drive ensue. Then the abomination announces, "Hi! I'm Jolly Twinkles!
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>Will you be my friend?"
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Absolutely. Let me just dress you back in your fur.
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>You pull it's mangy-looking furry cloth "skin" back over it, snapping the snaps as you go.
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>Finally it's done, except for one thing.
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>You strap on a funky "saddle" you'd made for it, carrying a solar panel you'd liberated off
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>a bus-stop some months back, and plug the lead into a hole in the pony's coat just under the
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>panel.
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That'll keep you going. Try to stand in direct sunlight whenever possible.
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>"I understand, Anon Master."
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>While your new friend has oddly slow-moving facial expressions and makes alot of noise when
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>she walks, you feel alot more comfortable out in the press of bodies of society. Having a
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>personal robot meant you were someone again, even if she was odd looking. She even
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>gets some admiring glances from folks who realize what she really is- And what it took to
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>create her. As for Jolly herself, she understands on some level that whatever she is, she's
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>happy to be out and being useful rather than just more landfill.
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>One day, you're eating an almost perfect burger you found while sitting on a bench in the
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>park. A man sits down next to you, reading a paper. Jolly struts past, dropping another news
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>paper onto the bench by you. It's got a bit of guck on it but it's readable, so you begin to
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>open it up.
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>"Is that yours?" the man asks, gesturing to Jolly.
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Sure is, built 'er myself.
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>"Really. You live around here?"
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Under here actually. I'm downwardly mobile ya see. I drift. A free spirit-
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>"You got muscled out of your tech job by someone willing to work for one tenth a living wage?"
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Yes that too.
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>"Tell ya what. I've been fairly successful lately, and I've been looking for someone who
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>understands how to make custom machines on a budget. How would you like..."
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>Time passes
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>"Time to get up, Anon Master!" Jolly scolds, poking you with her furry but hard plastic
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>muzzle.
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Thanks Jolly.
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>"Breakfast is on the table. Boss Master wanted you up at least by noon, he has more designs
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>to go over with you."
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Thanks, Jolly, let me just get dressed and I'll be out to eat.
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>"Yes Anon Master."
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>You watch her as she walks away, motors whirring. Living in a guest house on a large estate
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>was turning out pretty nice- Along with being able to build projects of your own in between
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>those your host asked of you. But Jolly would forever remain your favorite.
by BlueGem
by BlueGem
by BlueGem
by BlueGem
by BlueGem