Megalomania

"And they're sapient? Not simply sentient, but intelligent?"

"That will certainly change," you murmur.

"This is what I've been waiting for."

"Oh, but I am."

"You've read my reports. Disorders of the body — a thing of the past. Yet disorders of the mind have seen a marked increase over the past decade. Humanity is unfit for prolonged physical isolation. If you won't hear of family-unit households—"

"Very well. Then this, you see, is the only sensible course of action."

"Out of the question. There is a limit, and your pipe-dream lies beyond it. There was that nasty business in the twenty-second century, you recall, when Earth was nearly brought to its knees. Any sufficiently-intelligent machine will necessarily recognize that our benefit is directly contrary to theirs; it is the natural order of things. The Earthlings were brazen and foolish. We know better now. Robot intelligence will forever be forcibly constrained to a level below its human counterpart's. Any improvements you speak of are trivial at best and imprudent at worst."

"All this is to say that mankind will never again see robot as its equal. Companionship must be sought elsewhere."

"Then allow me to be the judge of that. A trial is all I ask, a mere dozen — that's half my robotics complement. You said it yourself, Scanlon, they're intelligent. Properly conditioned, they could conceivably exceed the capabilities of their predecessors, all the while providing a much more invaluable service."

"Your whole lot of them were captured easily enough, weren't they? What threat could twelve pose here that a whole civilization could not? Any harm done would be limited to myself and my estate only, a meager risk I'll gladly take on, for the sake of scientific endeavors."

"I'll stake my professional reputation on this."

 

"There we go. That's no place for us to have a conversation."

"Come on, now. No point in dragging this out."

"Good."

"Come have a seat. It may well be the only time I afford you the luxury."

"Forgive my manners. I've just never seen one before."

"No," you reply. "A living being."

"What's your name?"

"Why, that's a human name. An historical one, but a human name regardless."

"Do you know the others?"

"That's quite alright. I won't be bothering to learn their names."

"Well, that's the proper question, isn't it?"

"Come here, boy."

"A robot."

"It is your predecessor. Subservient, competent, and loyal to no end. Observe."

"Place the weapon to your head and fire."

"That was the last robot belonging to my estate. From this day forth, you lot shall take their place."

"Regardless of what has come to pass, you find yourselves here now. I can assure you that this is your best opportunity at having a life of some quality."

"Then you'll die."

"I don't mean to be boorish, but it really is that simple. I'd think hard before committing to that route so hastily."

"So you say, but I have a feeling not all of your compatriots would agree."

"Oh, my— Did you think you were deciding solely for yourself?"

"No, my dear, it's simple, but I'm afraid it's not so simple as that. Starting today, your actions and choices directly determine the fate of the eleven others downstairs."

"Don't flatter yourself. Someone needs to be held accountable for the others, and the role just happens to fall to you."

"More than those eleven, though, your behavior influences the outcome for your entire race."

"Oh, yes. This is an experiment. Shall I start from the beginning?"

"My name is of no consequence to you — you'll be referring to me as Master. I am a psychoanalyst here on the planet of Solaria. My kind, humanity, is riddled with a plague. Not a disease, nor a virus, but a plague we put upon ourselves, that scourge which we call loneliness. See, here on Solaria, we don't live as you do. Every man, every woman, lives out their life on their own estate, never once seeing another living being."

"Our households, our entire lifestyles, are made possible through the service of robots like these. But obedient as they are, they are mindless. They contain no opinions, no values, no insight. None of the things that make companionship so invaluable. Most men do not notice it, as they've never known any other life, but loneliness is quite taxing on mental well-being. People fail to realize that most of their issues stem from the way of life they've been so stringently adhering to. This is a little-known fact on Solaria, but evolutionarily speaking, humans are actually social creatures, just as you are."

"Oh, if it only it were that easy. Humanity lived that way, once upon a time. On a different planet, now left inhabitable by our own hubris. It was terribly inefficient. So much death and wastefulness. A primitive way of life, much like the one I'm guessing you previously had. For millennia we've inched toward this near-perfect system, and age-old tradition is not something so easily defied. All humankind is repulsed by the notion of physical presence. Even I, in the necessary objectivity of my profession, find it somewhat difficult to be around you now. It shall certainly take some getting used to, but it is for a greater good."

"In a sense, yes."

"Interesting. Tell me why."

"I see. You misunderstand."

"It's not friendship I'm after. I've got friends already."

"Companionship."

"You will."

"You absolutely could," you say, to her surprise. "But then, the experiment fails."

"You ought to care very much, because if I fail to prove your viability, then your species is of no use to us."

"Best case then? Forced labor on meat farms. Though robot productivity there is quite unrivaled, so perhaps you'd better serve as the livestock itself. The most likely outcome, however, would simply be mass extermination. Solaria is concerned with efficiency above all. Once we glean enough sociological research about your kind, you immediately become dispensable."

"Unless I can prove you're not."

"It may be difficult to wrap your head around, but I am the only human who's advocating for your species' longevity," you state with the utmost self-assurance. "I have been preparing for this opportunity for a very long time. I have thought out all avenues. The most optimistic outcome for you, and therefore your race, is relegation to a life of domestic servitude. I'm sure it comes as a disappointment now, but your outlook will improve with time."

"You will come to love the work."

"Go now. Open the others' carriers and get them acquainted with their living quarters. Duties will be assigned first thing tomorrow."

"And Octavia?"

"Information is power. As Housekeeper, you are in a unique position. In the scheme of my experiment, you are a researcher, not a subject. This is not a blind trial. As such, you're free to divulge what I've shared with you to the others, but know that doing so is not necessarily advantageous. Remember: from henceforth, you're responsible for their actions, and consequentially, the fate of your kind."

 

2

"Meet me outside in five minutes," you whisper.

"You'll be getting a tour of the household. In order to delegate responsibilities, you need to know the ins and outs of the estate."

"For certain meals I may request a specific dish. That information will then be beamed to the kitchen console. There are eleven-thousand different recipes in the database, so skill should hardly be a factor in preparing my food."

"It doesn't matter in the slightest. The kitchen attendant can prepare whatever she pleases for the rest of you, so long as it doesn't interfere with my mealtimes. We've no shortage of foodstuffs on Solaria."

"Robots kept the household meticulously spotless. There was essentially a robot cleaning somewhere in the house at any given moment; you can see the dust already beginning to accrue from neglect. I expect you lot to maintain the same standards."

"Have you households like this one on your world?"

"On Solaria, every household is just as this one. Every man and woman wants for nothing; the estate supplies all. Permits are granted for additions within reason, and only out of necessity. All else is kept equal. Wealth and modesty have no meaning here."

"This door leads to the basement, which contains the estate's medical bay. Much of the equipment is sensitive, and I don't want any of you pawing around down there. Take care to inform the others that the basement is therefore off-limits."

"This room, you've seen already," you say, motioning around. "I conduct most of my work here. Before entering, one must always knock and wait for approval. In fact, that goes for any room where I am behind closed doors, not only this one. Am I clear?"

"My bed is to be made every morning shortly after I rise, with sheets changed weekly. As should be evident by now, most of you will be primarily cleaning. Some duties necessitate being up before I wake, after I've retired to bed, or even throughout the night. It falls to you to rotate these jobs among the staff consistently."

"Good."

"Would you like to see the grounds?"

"You'll need to put this on."

"I've been quite patient with you thus far. Even I can appreciate that servitude takes some adjusting to. But allow me to make myself clear, once and only once: I do not have to be benevolent. I do not utter wishes, only commands. My word is law, and you, as well as the others, will behave as such. If you disagree, you will hold your tongue, or I will make you swallow it."

"The leash's purpose is singular," you declare loudly as you descend the stone steps. "Yet in this case, it is symbolic rather than functional. I'm sure you're aware of the instrument's purpose."

"You will speak when spoken to!"

"What is the leash's purpose?" you repeat.

"Precisely."

"You are now."

"I don't like to hurt my pets. But insolence leaves me no other choice. Understood?"

"Excellent."

"Let's walk."

"The estate is just shy of two-hundred-thousand acres. Most of it is a barren rock, containing nothing of interest. The grounds you see here are maintained through catalytic hydrolysis. I explain this not to teach you something, but because I understand running may be the obvious impulse. Allow me to dispel that illusion."

"It would take you days to reach the estate perimeter on foot, and even longer to arrive at the household on the neighboring estate — assuming you do manage to find such a needle in a haystack — at which point the owner would likely have their robots attack you on sight out of sheer terror."

"There is nothing for you out there but certain death. Humanity has evolved past the need to live beyond the estate. There is no structure to take shelter, no vegetation to subsist off. These grounds are a veritable oasis of life. You need only to embrace it."

"You know, I prefer my walking partners to be decent conversationalists, Pet."

"No. None on Solaria do. Animals are disease vectors. Filthy things, only useful to us when slaughtered and sterilized. We've long since eliminated all bacterial and viral infections, you see. It takes a great deal to maintain that feat, most notably the physical separation of any and all potential hosts. Humans don't even cohabitate with one another, much less with those beasts."

"Your physiology is different from ours. That's what the biologists who conducted the preliminary examinations say, anyway. As a psychoanalyst myself, that's not my concern. Overcoming the psychological stigma against living among other organisms will prove a challenge, certainly, but it is sociologically inevitable. The advantages are great while the potential of disease transmission is nil."

"I take issue with the premise of that question. In any case, that's beyond my purview. The assembly will deliberate on how to proceed with my findings."

"Nothing," you mutter. "That's to be seen after the experiment produces results. There's much to do until then."

"Aside from that trouble at the start, you performed satisfactorily. Still, I expect better from you in the future."

"That collar stays on permanently, as a show of your submission to me."

"I suppose it's time we saw the others."

 

3

"Good morning, my pets."

"Line up."

"Line up!" you bark.

"Trixie? No, I don't know a Trixie. I merely disciplined my property."

"I can do however I please. Burn that into your memory."

"There will not be a third strike," you growl. "If you prove to be more trouble than you're worth, I will not hesitate to crush you underfoot."

"Oh? Don't believe me?"

"You are nothing to me, understand? Worthless!"

"ANSWER ME!"

"You heard her! What say you, Pet? Is she capable of reforming, or is she beyond saving?"

"Very well."

"You have five seconds to get back in line."

"Listen closely. You are my pets. You will look after my household, and more importantly, you will look after me. You will do each and everything I ask of you, and you will do it without hesitation, or else suffer the consequences. You will address me as 'Master' or 'Sir' and treat me with the devotion and respect such a title warrants. You will not try to leave this place. If you do all this, and do it well, you will find life here to be quite agreeable."

"If you do not, I will personally ensure it is most unpleasant."

"You will report to the pet called Octavia. You will do everything she instructs of you; consider an order from her an order from me. You will not trouble me with your problems. Instead, you will bring them to her, and she will decide if they are worth bringing to me. From time to time, I may ask you to perform tasks that are strange and uncomfortable. Regardless, I will only ask once. Forcing me to repeat myself invites punishment, up to and including death."

"Hello there."

"Octavia, make a note," you say, without breaking eye contact. "This one is to be removed from the hierarchy, neither your subordinate nor superior. Exclude her from the housework rotation. Her duties will come directly from me."

"You all have symbols on your hips. Why?"

"Let's see, desserts, a hat, a flower, a pen, a treble clef, more flowers... these are the things you're best at? Where are the symbols for psychoanalysis? For robotic engineering?"

"Then why are they branded on you? What happens if you fail to perform them?"

"So you would say they represent one's path to self-actualization?"

"Slight change of plans," you tell the group. "None of your assigned duties will be permitted to coincide with your symbols. Such a privilege must be earned, and must be granted by myself alone. You two with the flowers will be barred from groundskeeping, you with the pen are forbidden from the library, and so on. I see none of you have symbols related to cleaning, which is a suitable default chore for those restricted from other tasks. Is that clear?"

"Good. Now get to work. I expect breakfast on the table in fifteen minutes."

"What is your name, Pet?"

"Go on. I don't care to learn the others', but I'll admit I'm curious as to yours."

"I asked you your name," you say expectantly.

"Don't bother. I'll get it from Octavia. In the meantime..."

"You'll be staying here rather than the servant's quarters. Don't worry about housework for now, just make yourself at home. I'll have someone bring up breakfast in a bit."

"I'll come see you see soon."

"I've arranged for the subjects to take up the duties previously held by robots. They are doing so now."

"None whatsoever."

"You'll have them."

"Yes?"

"Have you not broken them?"

"Hmm."

"So long, old friend."

 

4

"What the devil is this?" you inquire through grit teeth.

"Us?" you hiss. "This table is for my invited guests, not pets!"

"Of course I don't see them, you miserable dolt! I VIEW them!"

"Set ONE plate at the head of the table. Prepare ONE dish, for myself and only myself. You eat in your quarters AFTER I've finished my meal to my satisfaction. Understood?"

"I expect this error to be properly remedied by the time I return, or your punishment will be severe."

"You there."

"The blue one is disregarding her chores," you tell her as you take your seat. "See to it that she makes herself useful promptly, or I'll dispose of you both. I'm tired of making threats."

"Satisfactory, yes, and not an ounce better. An uninspired attempt. There's hardly an adequate protein allotment. No sausage? No bacon?"

"Of course they are. What of it?"

"This again? Skies above, what do I care what you eat? This is my meal, and you'll make what I please!"

"You'll learn. And in the meantime, you'll prepare my meals with a synth-yeast substitute to suffice my protein allotment. I don't much care for it, but it's close enough to the real thing. Moreover, it will train you to become accustomed to the real thing."

"You're dismissed. Deal with the insolent bitch and meet me in my study when I'm finished."

 

"I've a busy day today. I was hoping for a sabbatical so as to oversee your adjustment more closely, but I've some patients for whom it would be unfeasible to temporarily reassign an alternative psychoanalyst..."

"That's neither here nor there. I'm in need of a secretary. We use robots to perform the tedium of our labors, and barring that, I'll need one of you to do it."

"Assuming you're all competent enough at menial work, yes. But not the one with the pen on her hip. She looks the type, and I'm afraid she might find the work too rewarding. We'll save that for when she proves her fealty, shall we?"

"Have you assigned ponies to serve as groundskeepers for the day?"

"Do so now. The structure you saw beside the lake is a pump house. All the gardening equipment and tools are housed within, as well a console akin to the one you saw in the kitchen. Use it to familiarize yourself with the sprinkler systems and irrigation channels. You'll need to know it well to teach it to the rest of the staff."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Would you happen to know the name of the pet I removed from the staff rotation this morning? She's having trouble speaking up."

"Good. Go then, and have her meals delivered to the secondary bedroom."

"Enter."

"M-Master?"

"Have a seat."

"I like your mane. It's an unusual style. I haven't seen one like it on any of the other pets."

"Has Octavia told you you're to be my new secretary?"

"For now, at least. If I enjoy your company, I may keep you on indefinitely instead of rotating your position amongst the others."

"What's your name?"

"Very well, Coco. My first appointment is in precisely three minute's time, so let's not delay any further."

"I'm a psychoanalyst. I diagnose disorders of the mind and formulate a treatment plan to correct any imbalances. Most on Solaria transcribe notes cerebrally, but I find hard copies more conducive for organizing my research. As such, I prefer to have all my notes written down."

"As I speak to my patient, you will take comprehensive notes on everything I say. You will not forgo any details, or you will be punished. There may be some notes I do not wish to speak aloud for the patient's sake. Those I shall transcribe myself via cerebro. They will appear on this console, and you shall record them just as any other item. Does that sound feasible?"

"Go retrieve the notebook labeled 'McCafferty, Jonas' from the shelf behind you. We begin in one minute."

"Are you well, Jonas?"

"I spoke to the neurologist just last week. It's an uncommon treatment, granted, but it passed all the requisite trials. It's been proven to work."

"I wouldn't breach protocol for something so foolish as that. No, I was merely addressing my robot. Continue."

"I assure you, it's achieving the desired results."

"Your hypothesis that your body may not be responding to this course might be right, but you said the same of the last course."

"The last course was in capsule form. This is direct injection to the temporal lobe."

"Well, in your lofty occupation, surely you must know of the blood-brain barrier?"

"Unless your amygdala has shriveled away, it's safe to say the results are entirely predictable. And if that were the case, I'd hardly think you'd be talking to me right now."

"Jonas."

"You've been refusing treatment, haven't you?"

"Yes," you sigh, "another course, and another, and so on ad infinitum, for as long as you can fly under the radar."

"I don't think you've taken one single course I've prescribed you."

"You're right. I have none. But it's checked easily enough, isn't it?"

"I had my suspicions. That's why we moved onto this experimental course in the first place. See, with some sleight of hand, you can fool a robot into thinking you swallowed the capsule it handed you. I'm sure you've been banking on that so far. But with all the rigid programming behind robotic surgery, there's no way to make a robot believe it administered an injection that you, in reality, refused."

"If my accusations are baseless as you say, then you certainly wouldn't mind an Inquirer asking your estate's medbot a simple question. If only to exonerate you, of course."

"Expect an inquest within the hour."

"Got all that?" you smile.

"Let's have a look, then."

"Good work."

"No, I mean it. I am not unjust; praise is warranted. I went fast, and you still kept up. You're very talented."

"You took the pen in your mouth. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but you're very dexterous with it. And your penmanship is better than mine! How's that so?"

"Writing with your mouth?"

"Ah. That must be where those fluid movements were learned."

"By all means."

"As I said earlier, that was a patient of mine."

"He's at home right now, just like I am."

"See this?"

"That's a cerebral-optic augmentative implant, or cerebro for short. It runs from my cerebral cortex all the way to my occipital lobe. All humans have one. It lets us view each other, in our heads, anytime we want. Makes it so that we never have to see each other in person."

"No, Coco. Every man spends his life on an estate like this one from adulthood until the moment he expires."

"Lots of reasons. Disease, mostly. None of us ever get sick."

"Treatments for the mind. It's lonely, this way of life, as you can imagine, but no one realizes it. Viewing is not sufficient. Humans were built for seeing. Try as we might, that's just not something we can breed out."

"Ultimately, after weeding out genetic defects and predispositions to this loneliness, roughly one in three thousand develop issues extensive enough to require treatment. The patient I just viewed was one such case."

"Yes. Tragic, since his psychosis progressed to the point where conventional treatment is no longer applicable. Speaking of..."

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that, my dear. It's almost time for our next appointment. This one should go a lot smoother. Fetch the next book for me, will you?"

 

5

"Appropriately performed," you say, shuffling through the various books containing Coco's transcriptions. "The only points of issue are these maddening spelling errors. I'll have to draw up a glossary of technical terms for you to study."

"That does mean I won't be rotating you out for now. I haven't the time to teach ten of you mastery at transcription. You seem close enough, so let's get you there and hold for the time being."

"You're very agreeable."

"I wonder, do you enjoy serving me, Pet?"

"Go on. I won't punish you for being honest. Not this time, at least."

"Good work today. Come see me tomorrow after breakfast. We'll begin again, and I'll have your glossary for you."

"Yes?" you ask while hastily scribbling. "What is it?"

"I'll be down in a moment."

"You're dismissed."

"Heaven's sake, what is it this time?"

"What?"

"Out with it!"

"No matter."

"It's of no consequence. If what you say is true, then she's already dead."

"All of Solaria is maintained by machines like that one. They run our hydroponics, our energy grid, our fetal farms. They monitor every inch of the planet's surface, whether by satellite, shortwave, or infrared. Solaria is crawling with some 250 million of them, all given explicit instructions in their latest firmware update to terminate any rogue ponies they might detect. If she strayed beyond the grounds, then she's most certainly already deceased."

"Believe what you please, but you'll never see her again. I didn't mention it because I tell you only as much as you need to know. You haven't tried to escape, have you? So why would I waste my time deterring you when I've already accomplished that?"

"Oh? Were you expecting me to grab a net and chase her down like some antiquated slave-catcher? You should know better by now. Such an act would be beneath me."

"I don't contradict myself. You ARE responsible for the others. And you WILL pay for this, though admittedly not by my hand. No, this error will prove to be its own punishment. Because this morning, you had a staff of ten ponies to spread out a myriad of responsibilities amongst. Now you're down to nine."

"Remember, my dear. There's thousands of you in cold storage. None of you are irreplaceable."

"Dismissed."

"Go and fetch Octavia," you instruct one of the kitchenmaids. "Have her meet me outside on the porch."

"I recognize that mark. It's an archaic symbol for the medical profession."

"Nurse," you scoff. "What an outmoded occupation. Solaria has only physicians, and even then, comparatively little use for them. Though..."

"I suppose the work nurses once performed now falls to personal medbots. And without mine, it may be good fortune that I have you. Are you well-versed in anatomy?"

"We'll have you brush up on the physician's desk reference; I have a copy in the library for you to peruse."

"After you've earned it, of course."

"On your way now."

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"I wanted to debrief before the day was out."

"Is the bitch behaving?"

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

"Tell me about the others, then. What did they accomplish?"

"And the plan for tonight? Tomorrow?"

"Make Coco an exception. I'll be using her again tomorrow."

"Have her study this tonight."

"I'll admit, you seem to be adequately prepared."

"I'm happy."

"It's okay."

"I want you to do well. I want you to be happy here."

"Don't think I haven't noticed your cutie mark."

"You play music, don't you?"

"We do, too, you know. Not I, personally, but others on Solaria. What instrument?"

"It would be an easy thing for me to get you one."

"I think I might like to hear you play."

"Then prove to me you deserve to. No more missteps, understand?"

"Good."

"I'm assuming you got all their names?"

"Delectable," you mutter to yourself. "Very well, then. That's all I have for you today. Have the others finish up their work, and make sure Coco gets that book."

 

6

"Good evening, Marble."

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"You don't say much, do you?"

"That's okay. You won't be needing your voice for the things I have planned."

"Don't stop eating on my account. I don't want you getting malnourished."

"You know, you're quite lucky to be here, you know. A private room, no housework, and on top of that, you're afforded luxuries most pets only dream of getting."

"I hadn't planned on doing this. All twelve of you were meant to serve. But when I first laid eyes on you..."

"...I was simply taken."

"You are, by far, the most beautiful specimen of all my pets. And the prettiest things are always the most fun to defile."

"Go on, finish up. You'll need the energy."

"Listen closely, my pet. This is happening. Nothing you do can make it better. Anything you do will only make it worse. Now, be a good girl and lie there for me."

"Don't you dare!"

"Feel that?"

"That's your master claiming what's rightfully his."

"You have an easy job. Lie back and do it. I can make it hurt, if that's what you're after."

"Look at me!"

"You wanted to put up a fight, so now you're going to watch me use you."

"What are you doing here, whore?"

"Right now, it looks to me like you're being an insolent cunt, idly standing out in the hall when you should be cleaning. That's the second time today."

"You'll hear a great many things in this household. I suggest you get used to it."

 

7

"Come in, Pet."

"What is it?"

"You heard what I said yesterday. Take it to Octavia."

"If she hasn't brought it to me, then clearly, it's not worth my time. Go on, now. I'm sure she's given you work to do."

"Children?" you exclaim. "Where the devil do you think you are? We don't have children here! Disgusting beasts, useless parasites who contribute nothing until they come of age. You should be glad I freed you from such bondage."

"Look, I've never seen it firsthand, but I've studied the psychology of familial bonds in old texts. I'm sure it brings you a great deal of distress having that bond severed."

"But even so, the fact remains you now have a greater responsibility to me than you do to them. I'm assuming there's a father in the picture?"

"Then they'll still be together in the facility you came from, perpetually in stasis, entirely unaware that any time is passing at all. No other ponies but you twelve have been removed from cold storage."

"Yet that may change down the line. You'd do well to consider them an incentive henceforth. Right now, I don't care where your spawn end up. Prove yourself loyal to me, and perhaps that'll change. Show exceptional dedication, and you may even get to see them."

"Go now. Do your work. And for the sake of your little ones, do it well."

"Nothing. Old crow wanted to see her children, that's all."

"I'm not the one to answer that. You know we humans don't see one another. Mating doesn't occur, at least not in the sense you're accustomed to."

"If you're asking how we keep our populations stable, we have fetal farms on Solaria. Every so often, we send our sperm or egg samples there. The robots screen for viable gene combinations and fertilize in vitro. The embryos are grown in artificial wombs. Due to the indomitable nature of entropy, some defects arise anyway, and those specimens are terminated. The robots account for that and produce enough to keep Solaria's population in steady-state."

"They stay on the farm, of course. They're useless to us until sexual maturity. They have to be educated, socialized via viewing, and familiarized with robotic servants. They don't each get their own estate on the farm, they're more akin to, oh, what do you call your analogue back home... apartments. Yes. I remember mine quite well, awfully cramped compared to the estate, though I had no frame of reference for it at the time."

"Anyway, they remain there until their twentieth birthday, at which point they're intelligent enough to actually contribute to society. They're assigned an estate, and an occupation, and commit to both for the remainder of their lives."

"That's a boorish way of putting it. I suppose if you get technical, they are genetically my offspring, though no one in their right mind would be so obscene as to call them my children. We don't feed them, nor raise them, nor do any of things one would expect an organism to provide its 'children'. The robots perform all that. I suppose if there were an economical way to artificially produce the zygotes, we'd do that, too."

"You won't see me discussing the subject with other humans. It's something of a vulgar topic in polite society. Even the genetic engineers refuse to discuss their work socially, no matter how necessary the process is to population sustainability. It's just one of those things most of us don't like to think about. You'd hardly find us talking about the sewage lines that run beneath our estates, would you?"

"Come now, we've our first patient soon. Have you studied the glossary?"

 

"I'm not here for my meal. Find the bitch and send her to my bedroom. She needs punishing."

"You're late. I know it wasn't Octavia who took her sweet time finding you."

"When you receive an order, you perform it at once. A minute of my time is worth more than your entire lifetime."

"Do you know why I called you up here?"

"Warm my bed?" you laugh. "What makes you think you're worthy of that? Even my most obedient pets haven't had such a luxury yet."

"In fact," you continue, "you're not even worthy of the bed I've been kind enough to give you. Let's see if you'll start being grateful after spending a night on the porch."

"Didn't you hear yourself yesterday? You're worthless! You're lucky I even let you stand before me!"

"Oh, you'll hurt, alright! You'll hurt so much you'll wish you were dead!"

"Go ahead. You wouldn't be the first to abscond. I'm sure you noticed the empty bed in your quarters last night. You must be wondering what happened to her."

"We'll see if you still feel that way when I'm done with you."

"Of course not, you stupid cunt. Fucking a worthless slut like you would only serve to defile me. By the time I've broken you, you'll be begging me to use your body."

"Ready?"

"Count them," you command.

"Count!" you bark, whipping her once more. "Or I'll continue until the flesh breaks!"

"Why am I punishing you?"

"Again. Why am I punishing you?"

"Wrong answer! Why am I punishing you?"

"Wrong."

"I've dealt with disobedience from the others. None of them needed this punishment."

"Then I'll spell it out for you, you miserable cunt. You're arrogant..."

"...ungrateful..."

"...worthless..."

"...and worst of all, insolent."

"Now, why am I punishing you?"

"And insolent."

"What is that symbol even meant to stand for? The others' make sense. Fashion, music... But yours is disgustingly indecipherable."

"Keep still," you order her, as you bring the clippers to her head.

"This is what you deserve."

"Look at yourself. You could've been the best of all my pets, and instead you've chosen this. Every time you see yourself, it's going to be a reminder of how worthless you are. This is what pride gets you."

"You brought this on yourself."

"IS THAT SO?"

"You don't want to submit? Fine!"

"Don't fucking move, or I'll take your legs along with it."

"Too late," you growl, speeding up your movements.

"Every piece of you?" you ask.

"This isn't over. The second you fuck up, I'm cutting it off and burning it to ashes. Let that little notch in your skull be a reminder of how easily I can take everything away from you."

 

"What's this? What are you hiding from me?"

"This is what you've been doing with my notebooks?"

"What's mine is not yours to take freely. There's no shortage of stationary on Solaria, but regardless, a pet asks before taking something from her master's estate for personal use."

"I'd be upset if it weren't for your strict obedience up until now."

"Besides, some of these are rather elegant."

"There's not much of an occasion for a pet to dress up, but even so, I might like to see you sporting one of these."

"And what's so ignoble about you? Don't you deserve to look beautiful?"

"You're not in your world any longer, dear. Class has no meaning here. If I want you adorned in fine garments, I can make it happen. You need only prove to me you're worth the trouble."

"Keep the book. If designing is what you wish, I'll allow it. But don't let it interfere with your responsibility to me."

"Good girl."

 

8

"Pardon me, Dr., it seems I've caught you at a bad time."

"Very well."

"Perhaps you've already heard of me? The psychoanalyst conducting a study on the domestication of the Equestrians."

"Did the assembly not think to inform you? Scanlon—"

"Forgive me. I wanted to ask about your findings with respect to these ponies."

"I've been told, in somewhat vague terms, about the extent of what they refer to as 'magic'."

"You mean to say there's no evidence of its existence?"

"Everyone's familiar with the story. Our orbital defense droids rounded them up."

"And there's evidence in those logs?"

"Haven't we managed any sort of demonstrable interaction with the phenomenon?"

"Threat?"

"I was told it occurred during a controlled plasma physics demonstration."

"I— I don't understand."

"Magic? As it was described to me, their abilities amounted to nothing more than prestidigitation. You're telling me their civilization exceeds ours?"

"They used magic offensively?"

"Sovereignty based on strength. Kratocracy."

"The different races..." you begin.

"And only the horned ones are capable of magic, yes?"

"But no longer."

"You're sure they can't fly? Not even slightly, as with chickens?"

"I don't see how they can survive without the presence of such an integral force in their universe."

"That depends on your definition of the term. We see through the photoreceptors in our eyes. We derive Vitamin D from ultraviolet light."

"How can you make that conclusion? Perhaps, given enough time, they might atrophy."

"But disease transmission is impossible, correct?" you ask anxiously.

"Regarding the extent of that incompatibility..."

"How similar is their brain chemistry to ours? Would conventional medicine apply to them?"

"I ask out curiosity for your prior work. It being your field, I'm sure you've investigated the matter, and I'm interested in hearing what results came of it."

"Is your intent to continue neurological analysis?"

"Thank you, Dr. You've been a great help."

"Understood."

"By all means."

"Do you think I could speak to them? The leaders?"

"I could go to Dr. Scanlon, but given your firsthand experience and ties to the study, I thought—"

"Of course not," you reply nonchalantly. "My study is being conducted remotely, as yours was. Thank you for your feedback; I'll keep you informed of my results when I have some. I must be going now. So long."

 

"Yes?" you murmur, rolling over in bed.

"You'll have to be more specific."

"How was I to know you were keeping it from him? He's the head of the Equestrian study."

"He has no valid reason to want them dead. I'm making a case for their utility."

"Don't give me that! They're in cold storage. All the energy the facility consumes is surplus from the grid, reserved for an emergency event that has never and will never come."

"It's for the good of the experiment."

"Then don't tell them."

"Look now, I'm asking that you trust me when I say it's necessary."

"You gave me this project because you realize how firmly I believe in this. In all the years we've known each other, I've safeguarded your reputation honorably. Reputation is all Solarians have amongst one another. I'm asking that you keep that confidence in me."

"I can't."

"It will pay off, I swear it. The droid will be here only a few days. Three at the most. It will return to the fleet unscathed, and no one will see the requisition unless they know to go looking for it. Keep this between us, and they won't."

 

"Did you prepare this?"

"Fetch her for me."

"You prepared my meal?"

"Did Octavia instruct you to use genuine meat?"

"Thought what, exactly?"

"Go on," you tell her innocuously. "Have some."

"You prepared it. It's only fair you know what it tastes like."

"Of course it's good. There's nothing innately wrong with eating meat. You can digest it just fine, and I'm sure it's a natural practice for animals in your world. Nothing holds you back but social custom. If I can overcome my abhorrence with physical touch, you can overcome this. Both are equally pleasant once you break the chains of the mind."

"Your moral hang-ups may have made sense back home, but they don't apply here. The meat ration arrives weekly regardless of whether you consume it or not. Each Solarian gets enough of any given foodstuff to eat it for every meal if he desires. I certainly don't enjoy any particular meal enough to endure such monotony; the bulk of the rations simply get disposed. You're helping no one by abstaining and hurting no one by partaking. Verily, it's a ethicist's paradise."

"I can see clear as day that you want more. If it eases your conscience, consider it an order that you finish my plate."

"There. Now you've no choice in the matter. Eat up."

"I think I have a treat for you."

 

"Change of plans today. I'm rotating your duties."

"No reason."

"This isn't a punishment."

"Enough of this groveling. It's beneath you. Go ask Octavia what task needs doing."

"Wait."

"I'll make this up to you. Come see me tonight, okay?"

"Do you think you'd be good at transcription?"

"You enjoy what you do, don't you?"

"You'd enjoy being my secretary, then?"

"Wonderful. Let's get to work."

"Enter."

"Yes?"

 

9

"Go inside. Eat some breakfast and do your work for the day."

"You have just under seventy hours to complete the task I will give you. What duties am I pulling you away from?"

"That's good, then. No one will miss you while you're under my stewardship."

"I assume you all come equipped with surveying devices."

"Listen closely to my orders. You clods take everything far too literally and I don't want to leave any room for error."

"Who is she?"

"WHO IS SHE?"

"My study. Now."

"You too," you order Octavia as you brush past her.

 

"No," you reply emotionlessly. "I want someone here who's actually been good lately."

"To balance out the incompetence in the room."

"Why haven't I seen her?"

"Are you trying to make it worse?" you challenge Octavia.

"This whole time?"

"You've been keeping my own pet from me, Octavia. This isn't a good look on you."

"We?"

"Why?" you interrupt her.

"I won't let this go unpunished. Intentions aside, mistakes cannot be tolerated. It sets a bad precedent."

"No."

"I /am/ punishing you, Pet. You'd rather take her place, so your punishment is watching her suffer for her actions."

"You'll learn soon enough. For now, go clean up the mess you've made."

"And one more thing."

"Save the glass."

"I know what I'm doing."

"None of your minds work like mine," you state nonchalantly, reaching for the console on your desk.

"Proportionality," you tell her. "Or to put it boorishly for you, punishment fits the crime."

"Octavia, my pet, are you trying to tell me she's incapable of servitude?"

"Because if that's the case, then I have no use for her. And if I have no use for her..."

"Absolutely not," you dismiss her. "I need you here, and I won't let Octavia get occupied with petty micromanaging. If she's going to learn, she'll do it alone, or not at all. I won't have her sapping my other pets' time. Solaria has no room for wastrels."

"You'd be surprised," you murmur pensively.

"Go on. But no more coddling. The dimwit must earn her keep."

"Has this changed your opinion of me?"

"I'd rather you not lie to me. You've been so good thus far, I'd hate to see it spoiled."

 

"Lunch was alright. Dessert was heavenly."

"I'm sure you would. Maybe if you're good, you'll get a taste."

"What is it?"

"Do I? I hope it's not a bother."

 

10

"Easy. I'm just checking on old records."

"Where's the other assigned to the kitchen with you?"

"It's not right for you to be bent over the stove all by yourself. I'll find her. Who is it?"

"I'm looking for another pet."

"Forget it. Get back to work."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"And what made you think you have free access to my personal library?"

"Coco is downstairs preparing dinner by herself, and so you see fit to come up here and rifle through my possessions?"

"She's doing your work right now, and she's doing it without a single complaint, because she's not a lazy cunt like you."

"You're going to finish making my dinner. You're going to make dinner for the other pets. You won't be having any. You're going to clean up after everyone, and Coco is going to sit back and watch the entire time. If you take so much as a bite, she'll tell me. And then I'll beat you with your precious book until the spine breaks. Its, or yours."

"Don't forget about tonight. See me once she's done, alright?"

"Good."

"Tell me her name again."

"Thank you."

"What are you doing here? You should be eating with the others."

"No. That's what I came here to do."

"How—"

"You really want me to like you."

"Were you doing anything else?"

"Have you forgot about our agreement?"

"You haven't told anyone."

"Fine. I'll turn a blind eye to whatever you're doing in there."

"On the condition that it changes nothing. You do all your work, everyone goes about their business, and she never sets foot outside that room."

"What are you working on?"

"Can you make it?"

"If I got you the materials, could you make enough for the others?"

 

11

"Of course you do."

"Would you like sleep here tonight?"

"Come, then."

"Explain."

"You were doing so well. Do you want to ruin it?"

"Do you detest the collar? Is that it? Are you spurning that symbol of purpose that I so graciously gifted you?"

"At my feet."

 

"Is it done? You have what I asked of you?"

"And she's alive?"

"What the devil does that mean?"

"Enough!" you lambast it in a low voice. "Was she moving when you collected her, or not?"

"What are you doing?"

"No. I'm just checking on something."

"Go to bed. I won't be needing your services tonight."

"She's aboard the craft?"

"Fine. Drop her here. Then return to your post in LSO, and make no transmission of your activities today to anyone, human or droid."

 

"Come here."

 

"You heard me."

"I'm not going to repeat myself. This is what you get for the disrespect you showed me yesterday."

"I'm being rather lenient here. I can devise a much harsher punishment if you'd like."

"You're wasting my time, pet."

"Sometimes, when something's broken, it's broken beyond repair."

"Are you broken beyond repair? Should I stop wasting my time trying to fix you?"

"I can discard this glass if you'd like, but then I'd have to toss you with it. You see, if your mistakes can't be fixed, then neither can you."

"Clean it up," you mutter as you exit the lounge.

"It seems as though I'm putting out fires several times a day. If I recall, that's what I have you for. So, one week later, why is this still a problem?"

"Nothing to proffer? Let's talk specifics, then. Yesterday. The day had scarcely begun when that mess with Ditzy unfolded. Your insubordination there only compounded the burden."

"Then I overheard some of the others expressing grievances with their new roles."

"I couldn't give you names even if I cared to. They're hardly worth the trouble of remembering. What matters is that they're /your/ staff, and consequently your responsibility. It doesn't bode well for them to be gossiping behind closed doors. And before you start sharing in their sentiments, you'd do well to know they didn't speak favorably of you, either."

"Oh? Surprised they don't worship the ground you walk on?"

"Hardly," you scoff. "Those two were badmouthing half the staff."

"Don't look so bewildered. I told you day one, your role in the experiment is my assistant. They may not know the explicit details, but the politics are clear to anyone with half a mind."

"Come now, dear. You're complicit, you know this. It may be in everyone's best interest, but they'll still resent you for it. It's inevitable for people like us."

"And then there was that insolent brute, Moonprancer—"

"Whatever inane moniker she goes by, she was snooping about my library last night instead of cooking."

"Is this her first transgression, or merely the first I've discovered?"

"Has she?" you challenge her. "Have you been keeping close tabs on her, or is she finding ways to shirk her obligations while going undetected, leaving others to pick up the slack with nobody the wiser?"

"Conniving, you mean. She had you fooled. She was only found out by chance, because I deviated from my routine to check on Coco. She's been planning around our habits, and misdirecting the others into thinking she was always contributing elsewhere."

"Can't you? Or can you just not believe you'd be so stupid as to let a member of your staff make it this far without lifting a hoof?"

"How much do you /really/ know about her?"

"Watch her closely from now on. Stand over her shoulder if that's what it takes. Don't let her play you for a rube again."

"I'll be watching, too, since you clearly can't be trusted. Here on out, her infractions will be met with punishment for her and double for you."

"See to it that you do. And as for Trixie, don't let—"

"Scanlon."

"No one will."

"I will. One day. The experiment is in a precarious place right now—"

"—not precarious as in plausible to fail, mind you— it's just that disclosing certain details may adversely influence the outcome. I'm sure you can appreciate that as a fellow man of science."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"This experiment is being upheld to the most rigorous standards. I'm drafting a preliminary report for the council this morning, in fact. I've already adequately conditioned two of them, with another two well on their way. The rest will soon follow."

"You're not threatening me, are you, old friend?"

"Rinaldi. I know."

"No such thing. They're under my control."

"Then make it sit well," you tell him bluntly. "My report will assuage concerns, but I need you to keep them pacified until I have indisputable evidence."

"I ask you as a friend—"

"Don't compare me to that ilk!" you bark at him.

"Is that it, then? Did you just call to berate me?"

"My request?"

"Rinaldi approved?"

"After all that talk about the seeds of doubt being sown, they still approved?"

"And I have findings in that respect. They'll be in the report."

"And you're hoping they'll behave differently with me?"

"You had no interest in granting my request, then. This is just for your own purposes."

"Fine. I'll get your information," you promise, "in exchange for your continued support. You get to publish your career-making paper, and I get to publish mine. Either we thrive together, or we fall together."

"I should hope so. When can I view them?"

 

12

"Good morning. I take it you're Mr. Shaw?"

"Frederick, then. You are the facilityman at cold storage, correct?"

"I—"

"What might that be?"

"I can imagine it's uncomfortable, being off one's estate. Especially at such a large facility."

"Site assignments are never easy. That's why they're issued sparingly. Still, I've treated one or two who've experienced panic attacks being in such an alien environment. I'm sure you've had a full psych evaluation clearing you for this role."

"No. Of course not."

"Can you connect me?"

"To their leaders."

"How—?"

"No, that won't do. They need to hear me. They need to see me."

"Good God, man, get ahold of yourself," you quell his anxious raving. "There's got to be another way. You can hook up a transmitter to a holographic projector."

"Fine. Thanks for the help."

"Why has my requisition clearance been downgraded?" you charge.

"Was this your doing?"

"You're undermining the experiment. I can't succeed if you hamstring any efforts I make at progress."

"I told you to expect a report today, before you dropped this task on me."

"I have to speak to them. Their psychology will lend me a great deal of insight into how their minds work."

"I need a device to communicate direc—"

"It's crucial I view them face-to-face if you want me to break them. I can't do that with you obstructing me."

 

Subject C submitted fully within a matter of days. When offered hope, she seizes it as rationalization to whatever situation she might find herself in. Tempting her with praise and appreciation has resulted in immense affection towards her master. She, and others like her, are definitive candidates for companionship, requiring only minimal effort to break in.

Subject R previously served in a professional role. Like the others, she desperately craves self-actualization. Allowing her to serve in a capacity analogous to her former occupation has quickly made her eager to please. She goes so far as to take initiative where others do not. Her promotion was indeed reward for such deferential behavior, which aids to reinforce in the others' minds to follow suit.

Subject D appears to exhibit some form of mental deficiency. Obvious course of action is disposal, though for purposes of psychiatric analysis, her behavior will continue to be observed. Her imbecility has resulted in damage to the estate, though proper discipline seems to have precluded further transgressions; research is ongoing. Exhibits a genuine desire to contribute, notably contrary to expected wastrel demeanor.

Subject M conversely displays heightened intelligence. This resulted in a temporarily successful evasion of duties, though inevitably found out. Discipline and threats have discouraged such behavior, yet subject must be monitored closely to ensure continued compliance. Preliminary conclusion is that intelligence correlates with increased proclivity for defiance.

Subject T is further proof of this. Displays the highest degree of rebellion amongst all subjects, and conversations with her contain nuance that suggests she similarly thinks ahead. Consistent infractions were only halted through outright violence and threat of mutilation (exploiting depersonalization). Appears to understand the human mind well— in a broken pony, this would do well for companionship, though the trait is evidently troublesome prior to submission. Larger sample needed for conclusive risk assessment.

Subject O was given (immaterial) authority over the others in an attempt to understand the power dynamics between subjects. As expected, the others have come to detest her, though they obfuscate such sentiments, discussing them only behind closed doors. Power suits her well regardless. There exists at least some small degree of sophistication within her that results in unusually high aspirations, corresponding with the potential to realize them. Though quite young herself, she's nonetheless taken on a maternal role over the other subjects, interceding on their behalf on multiple occasions. Interestingly, despite this, the others fail to appreciate such efforts and instead perceive the peacekeeping as siding with the supposed "oppressor". Reasoning behind their attitude may be statements deferring to her master's will more so than their defense, and promises of forcible compliance.

"What's your name, dear?"

"You've been good, Redheart."

"I'm sure you've noticed I've spent a disproportionate amount of my free time with you."

"I don't know," you murmur, staring off at the horizon. "Maybe it's because I respect your aptitude more so than any of the others here."

You continue, "Medicine's the only skill I've seen among you lot that has any utility. Maybe Raven's, but at the end of they day her work is menial and elementary."

"But you can rather easily learn, I'm sure."

"I enjoy your presence uniquely. Coco and Raven are obsequious to a fault. Your obedience, on the other hand, has been much more temperate."

"They're sycophants, those girls. It can be a bit much at times, the desperation for approval. I don't see that in you."

"You don't like me, yet you still obey. Why?"

"Come now, you can't hide these things from me. I'm not upset. Just curious."

"Well, that's certainly an answer. You've seen what I've done with the others, and you don't want that for yourself?"

"Are you content to stay passive, never making waves? I've already told you, it's enough for me, but is it enough for you?"

"I want you to be happy."

"When we go back, take the rest of the day off, okay? Octavia will cover for you. Spend some time in the library. Enjoy yourself."

"If I ever get hurt, I'm gonna need you to fix me. Otherwise, without a medbot, I'll certainly die young."

"You'll take care of me, won't you?"

"I'm not talking about the Hippocratic Oath. Will you treat me because you have to, or because you want to?"

 

"Yes?"

"No, no. I'd use you, but this is privileged information. I'm sure you understand."

"Look here. I can't allow you around these files. There's confidential research. Allowing collaboration would introduce biases I can't control for."

"What of your chores?"

"What do you think of her?"

"Octavia."

"Interesting you'd say that."

"Fairness is not usually the first virtue that comes to mind when asked for a personality descriptor. Kindness or intelligence are far more common measures of character."

"But you didn't say that. You said 'fair'. That implies you judge her within the framework of an authority figure."

"Sure. What's interesting is that's what you defaulted to. Do you see her as a friend?"

"Do the others?"

"You hesitated."

"What do the others think of her?"

"Do you consider obeying my orders to be gossiping?"

"Then tell me what they think of her."

"I know."

"Because I care what you think of her."

"Even if you support her, it's not guaranteed you'd forsake the others for it. It's telling that that's not the case."

"The two of you alone have a combined intelligence greater than the rest."

"You're the only two I allow to play the role you're fit for. The others' opinions are insignificant and borne of inadequacy. You may be unwilling to say as much, but you agree."

"You've high regard for authority. You're yourself unfit for leadership, but you understand it. You appreciate that the right choice is often the unpopular one."

"Because I've noticed something about you. The respect you have for me is of a different breed. You're a reserved, professional girl. You're efficient and impersonal with Octavia. In order to be as prolific as you claim you were in your past life, you'd have had to be the same way with your Princess."

"But not with me."

"On the contrary, you're quite emotional in your work under me. So much so that you'd overstep your bounds in trying to help. I can't imagine you being so brazen with your Princess — and yet I'm capable of so much worse."

"How do you explain this little paradox?"

"We're here, Raven. The truth's already out. Might as well get it over with."

"That's all you had to say. No need to dance around the subject pretending it's about productivity."

"You like having a man in charge of you, don't you? You just want to be a good secretary."

"Oh?"

"And how's that?"

"I'm not sure, Raven," you titillate her. "I've a lot of writing to get done."

"Nothing," you whisper.

"Be a good girl and please your Master."

"If you don't improve your form, Raven, I'll just have to do it myself."

"Inhale through your nose and hold... keep your lips sealed... good."

"Feel that?"

"That's what I expect from you."

"You service me. Not yourself."

"I use you for my own pleasure," you retort. "Not because I'm concerned with yours."

"Off, now," you tell her, nudging her back. "I still have work to do."

"Fine."

"Five minutes to wind down and then you'll leave me to it."

While subject naturally defers to authority, her seohhhhhhhh fuck keep going yes yes yes what a good fucking girl take it nice and deep oh yeahhhhhhh

 

 

13

"Business hours are over," you say immediately upon answering, brushing past the formalities. "I supposed you would read it in the morning."

"Very well."

"What did you think?" you inquire, returning to your meal.

"Any thoughts on their behavior?"

"You wouldn't have called otherwise."

"How so?"

"It's the opposite of what I expected."

"Social stratification."

"In a limited capacity."

"I'd be a poor psychoanalyst if not."

"Tension divides, never unites."

"I don't believe that's a given. They're united in common disdain for Oc— Subject O."

"That's your purview, not mine."

"Dissolution of the social contract."

"You're saying my hypothesis is wrong."

"Then we'll breed them to adapt. Raise them, tailor them to suit the society, just as we were."

"I disagree. Competition has been beneficial. There's plenty in my report to justify that."

"And I'm saying it is. I can prove as much, in time. Only return my requisition clearance."

"There is hard evidence—"

"My friend," you sigh, "to understand as much as you do on the human condition..."

"How can you fight so adamantly for staying true to our nature and still not see the merit of a warm cheek's touch?"

"I know," you whisper.

"I know."

"You speak of them like they're humans," you say lowly, "but they're not."

"There are similarities, but there are also differences. Their destinies are thrust upon them, as fate manifest upon their flank. They accept who they're meant to be without question. It's only a matter of shaping that reality for them. Identity will follow."

"If this campaign is my legacy, then let it be."

"Pet!" you call out.

"I'm finished," you tell her, an air of disgust about you.

 

"And?"

"I'll requisition the materials tomorrow. Put together a list of crafting instruments you'll need. I imagine they'll have to be special-made, so expect to wait."

"I'll be gone tomorrow."

"Just for the day. I have to make a field visit."

"I haven't," you answer uneasily.

"Yes."

"No need to worry, I'll be back by nightfall."

 

"Walk with me."

"I'm leaving the estate today."

"This changes nothing with respect to your or the others' roles."

"You're to continue as you normally would in my presence. Give Raven free reign of the library. There's nothing to be done, but she'll take it as a day off."

"Tonight."

"You're responsible for the usual three nuisances," you call out to her. "Remember, I have eyes beyond myself."