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