[Story by https://poneb.in/u/Inkwell ]

>It's dark.
>Too dark.
>It is not as though your eyes are closed.
>It seems that you have no eyes.
>Nor can you hear, for you have no ears.
>Yet, here you are, thinking.
>So in some sense, you must "be."
>That is all you can hang your hat on. Because without any senses, as far as you know, you have no head.
>But you do have memory.
>The diagnosis. The prognosis. The decline.
>The agreement.
>You remember your senses fading one by one as your body shut down. How your motor skills slipped away, then your vision, taste, and smell.
>Last was your hearing. The last sound was the voice of a doctor.
"Just in time. Couldn't cut this closer if you tried. Let's get to it."
>It's hard to say what happened after that. When you become nothing but thought, time becomes meaningless. In a way, you much better understand the theory of relativity now.
>You feel sure that you died.
>You felt wonderfully euphoric, and your thoughts were flush with visions of beauty and light before it all went dark.
>Yet here you are, again, in the dark, a thought.
>And then...

ALLSPARK ENGINEER WORK SYSTEM
Model PNE-0005

Copyright (c) 2026, 2031
Hasbro Corporation
All Rights Reserved
real mem = 8192 TB
avail mem = 32768 TB
primary data cache : 512 MB
primary inst. cache : 768 MB
secondary cache : 32768 MB
login: APlatt
code: ******
>device -ctd -a
reading "R.B.D."
reading "CHECK"
reading "BOOT"

>Suddenly your pure thought is awash in a cascade of sensations.
>Something fizzles and hums in the back of your head.
>You have a head!
>You have orientation!
>Front and back! Up and down! Left and right!
>You do not just feel, you hear it! The noise that you're alive!
>Does this mean they did it? They actually pulled it off?
"Audio receptors are online doctor."
"Wonderful! Can you hear me?"
>Yes I can hear you, prick. I'm locked-in!
"Doctor, I haven't turned on any other functions yet. I don't want to overload his..."
"Her. I know your eyes are working Ms. Pruitt. This is clearly a feminine model."
"Yes sir, but..."
"And in any event Hasbro has not yet manufactured a masculine prototype."
"But before he was..."
"There is no before Ms. Pruitt. There is no after either. There is only now. She is a she, if this amalgamation of steel and silicon can be anything at all."
"Yes sir."
>YES TURN ON MY EYES TURN ON MY EYES

>You can sense movement.
>It is... above?
"I've activated motor function on the audio receptors, Dr. Platt. H... she should be able to respond now."
>You immediately begin moving your ears. Left right up down.
"Oh ho! Either she is very excited or you have done something very wrong Ms. Pruitt!"
>If you could breathe you'd be breathing very heavily right now. It's like being born again, except you have total cognition. Excitement leaps across your... brain?
>Across your circuits.
>The thought is tantalizing and you can't help but keep moving your ears around to catch every little detailed sound.
>They're much more sensitive than your human ears ever were.
"Now patient, I will need you to calm down and stop this instant if that is indeed you in there."
>You slow down and stop, focusing your ears straight ahead on the source of the voice.
>It's high-pitched and nasal, lathered with tones of Long Island.
"We met once before. When we made our agreement. Do you recall what I said? I am a man of my word. And my word is coming to pass--right this instant. But I need you to fulfill your end of the bargain. Do you remember what you told me? Do you remember your special code? We are both terrible nerds after all."
>Oh! Right!
>Your ears are all you have to move, and you move them accordingly.
>Up
>Up
>Down
>Down
>Left
>Right
>Left
>Right
>Forward
>Back
>Split--left and right
"WONDERFUL! THAT'S OUR GIRL!"
>Your mind was continuous, preserved.
"Ms. Pruitt our patient is alive and well. I think it is time we brought her in from the cold."
"Yes Dr. Pratt."
>More motor functions. The details of your head came to life.
>Your jaw went out much further than before. It felt very strong.
>You could inhale, in a way. You couldn't feel any diaphragm or lungs, but air passed through nostrils that keyed in on every scent that could possibly exist and parsed them out.
>Something smelled wonderful.
"Ms. Pruitt's wearing lavender."
>GASP
"MY VOICE!!!"

>Your voice is feminine, somewhat scratchy, faintly squeeky.
>But maybe very squeeky as it sings upward in excitement.
"I still can't see!"
"Just a moment," said Ms. Pruitt.
>She sounds fat.
>Suddenly static. Visual static.
>Black and white fades into a full spectrum of visual noise.
>It begins to clear.
>At last you can see.
>Oh damn Ms. Pruitt IS fat.
>Dr. Pratt looks much stronger and younger than his voice would suggest.
>But nuts to them--you're the star of this show.
"I can see! I can see!"
>You try to see yourself but to no avail.
>You seem to be elevated. Something is attached to you from above and behind.
>Whatever it is does not permit you to turn your neck.
>You can't feel anything below your neck.
"I can't move. Why can't I move? Can I see a mirror?"
"Slow down there missy! You'll give yourself a short circuit."
>Dr. Pruitt guffawed as he retrieved a small mirror from a near table.
>So many details to the room, so many things to see, but you couldn't help but be egotistical in this moment.
>After all, it was your first chance to see yourself.
>The doctor held up the mirror and there you were.
>The beautiful head and upper torso of Rainbow Dash. Robo Dash.
>But only that much.
>Cables, connections, joints, and locks hung from your chest cavity. Your arms ceased just past the shoulder.
"Where's the rest of me!?"
"We will get you assembled soon enough but for now let's take things one at a time..."
>Dr. Pratt set the mirror down, leaned forward, and looked you square in the eye.
"What is your name?"
>Which one? Your old one? Fuck that. That name was for a fleshy piece of shit that died young. You're the new hotness now. Cocksure. Fast. Strong. Everything you ever wanted to be. At least you would be soon enough.
"Rainbow Dash!"
>Dr. Pratt smiled.

>Evidently you kicked the bucket ahead of schedule while engineering was behind schedule.
>Since you were a civilian and not a programmed artificial intelligence, Allspark's legal department was not willing to part with a drone before they could decommission its weaponry.
>Allspark Industrial: Hasbro's unexpectedly successful pivot to high-tech arms manufacturing.
>The times had demanded it. After the bombing of San Francisco, reinstatement of the draft, and the wartime economy demanded by President Trump's crusade against the degenerate commu-terrorists, there was little market space for Hasbro's old toys and games business.
>So they redeveloped their most sophisticated robotic toys into killing machines.
>The Transformers were expected to be extremely effective but were too complicated and failed frequently.
>The tiny equine quadrupeds, on the other hand, could handle almost any terrain and any conditions.
>Their small size allowed them to slip entirely undetected into hot zones until very late in the war. The little ponies were ruthlessly effective in urban combat.
>Since they could get in close to any target, they didn't require particularly heavy weapons payloads. Instead they relied on proximity, positioning, and specialization.
>There was... an exception... but that hardly qualified as tiny or discrete.
>Anyway, the troops fondly adopted the characters that inspired the drones as mascots for drone divisions.
>You'd convinced your air group to get behind the bold and brash Rainbow Dash.
>With that characterization, you grew very sentimental about the droid you piloted from afar. You hadn't been a fan of ponies before the war, but imputing personality to your otherwise remote-controlled death machine warmed you to Dash in particular.
>Fearless. Loyal. Things you weren't. Things you became.
>Through feats of skill and valor you saved an intel asset deep in enemy territory and won acclaim.
>You and Dash.
>Now?
>You are Dash.

"You even gave me hair... and colors..."
>The Model PNE-0005, a.k.a. "Pegasus", the one you'd controlled, had never actually been painted with pretty colors. They came in various shades of camouflage, depending on their theater of deployment.
>Yours had actually been a splotchy jungle green most of the time, actually.
>And they certainly didn't have hair.
>The back of the control module had been decorated with fins and antennae to send and receive the signals necessary to let you control it. Strings for the puppet, so to speak.
>But no strings on you. Not now.
"If you're going to serve civilian purposes then we need you to be appealing to civilian sentiments."
>Dr. Pratt had transferred you to the care of the much colder and direct Dr. Roberts.
>Now that the consciousness transfer was confirmed successful, Pratt's most pressing job was done.
>He bid you farewell and said he'd check with you frequently for various tests and to make sure you were doing well, but for now you only needed to have your body completed.
>All he needed to do was revel in the adulation of his scientific achievement.
>Ms. Pruitt had turned off your eyes and ears temporarily when "they" came in to congratulate him.
>She failed to turn off your nose. Whoever came in smelled of cedar, tobacco, and ocean wind.
>When your senses were reactivated they were gone and only Dr. Roberts remained.

"Civilian purposes?"
>Dr. Roberts ceased takkatakkatakka-ing at the console and looked up over the rim of his glasses, the lenses opaque with glare.
"Is your expectation to resume killing things?"
>The war was very much won and done.
"Uh... no?"
"Then you are serving civilian purposes."
>There's plenty of military roles that don't involve the immediate necessity of forcibly extracting enemy guts to grease pony droid joints, but you didn't get the sense he would appreciate the sass.
"You know there's more to war than that, right? Some losers only have to clean droid asses."
>But you sassed anyway.
>Smart-ass.
>You sassy smart-ass.
>Dr. Roberts sighed with frustration and stared at you, prepared to say something, but swallowed his retort, exhaled slowly, and resumed working at the console before continuing.
"The Pegasus into which your consciousness is transferred is being decommissioned as we speak. We are removing its weaponry and will install both digital and analog governors on its performance to limit your value as a weapon. It is being cosmetically retrofitted to be more approachable and appeal to the popular mascot you identified as your preference. These changes are consistent with your forthcoming assignments."
>Governors?
"You're slowing me down!?"
>What a load!
"Your Pegasus frame will retain flight capabilities but there is no need for you to break the sound barrier. I wouldn't let you do more than glide, but I understand they prefer that you be able to turn tricks."
>You instinctively tried to tense up but only spun a loose gear exposed from your neck in displeasure as Dr. Roberts laughed at his own phrasing.
"However restricted your abilities may be, they will be substantially greater than anything you could do before, so your complaints are unwarranted."

>This guy is kind of a dick.
>He's talking like you're still enlisted.
>You were honorably discharged after war. Shiny medals and the whole deal.
>Come to think of it, when Dr. Pratt first offered to save your life like this, he only vaguely referred to expectations that would be placed on you.
>What are they going to make you do?
>Not kill anybody, sure, but it sounds like they're going to parade you around.
>Like the mascot you are.
>The one you chose to be.
>Are you?
>Are you Rainbow Dash? Or are you still you?
>What was it you chose to be?
>You probably shouldn't piss this guy off too much given you're still a vulnerable robotic head hanging from the ceiling.
>The best course of action would be to try and be diplomatic to get as much information out of him as you can.
"So has anybody ever told you that you're kind of a dick?"
>Oh well.
>Dr. Roberts plunked the keys with irritation, then looked up again.
"I'm sorry, I did not catch all that. Could you please repeat yourself?"
"..."
"..."
"... ... ...!"
>The sonofabitch turned off your voice.
"That's what I thought."

>Dr. Roberts says nothing more to you.
>Occasionally he looks up or even walks over to more closely inspect you.
>Your ears can hear a click from within your head.
>The hue of everything in your vision changes, drifting across the spectrum a half dozen times before it rests again at what you can only guess is default.
>Your hearing becomes sensitive. So much so that when he raps his knuckles against a table, it's deafening.
>It doesn't hurt.
>There's nothing for it to hurt.
>But it registers just below static.
>The sensitivity goes back down.
>He cuts a fart and you're pretty sure he cranked up your smell for it.
>You have no way to really express displeasure but to spin that exposed gear again.
"whhrrrRRRRRrrr"
>Your excitement is already faded.
>You can't do much as just a head.
>You can look around the room but that's about it.
>That and think.
>Still better than thinking in the dark.
>Then again with all the questions zipping through your circuits you're not sure you really want to do much thinking.
>You signed up for this so you could live, not get tied up in a solipsistic crisis.
>After all, you're no egghead.
>So instead you focus intently on the spartan lab while the doc keeps toying with your senses, waiting for whatever comes next.

>Hours pass.
>Four hours, thirty-eight minutes, twenty seconds.
>And some change on after that not worth recording.
>Finally, from behind, the sound of doors swinging open, a cart rolling across tile floor, carrying something with some heft.
"I am sorry to have left you alone so long with Dr. Roberts. He can be very harsh when he is working, but when you get him out of the office he is the most delightful fellow!"
>Dr. Pratt is back.
>You would say hay but you have no voice.
>Haha horse puns.
>Those will never get old.
>So you communicate in the only way you know how.
"whhrrrRRRRRrrr"
>Dress shoes clap against the floor as Dr. Pratt circles around into your field of view from the right.
"You seemed very eager to speak and hear yourself speak earlier. Why so silent now?"
>The jerk turned off my voice and it really, really sucks. Please turn it back on.
"whhrrrRRRRRrrr"
>You decide to tug at his heartstrings.
>You lower your ears, droop your eyes, and frown.
"What is wrong? Why are you sad? Why do you not speak?"
>Dr. Pratt sounds genuinely worried.
"Ms. Pruitt please call in the counselor. It appears we are already running into problems."
>More shoes clap against the floor, from the left this time.
>Dr. Roberts returning?
"I turned off his voice."
"Her voice. And that is cruel."
>Dr. Pratt's voice lowers in volume, little better than a whisper, but all the more stern for it.
"You will not abuse my patient again."
>Love this guy. Love this guy already.
"Yes sir."
>Dr. Roberts strides to his console and punches some keys.
"Now, let's try that again."
>Dr. Pratt stares and awaits your response.
"Uhh... when do I get to fly, Doc?"
>He smiles.
"What is your name?"
>You do not hesitate.
"Rainbow Dash."
>Scribbling behind you.
"Very soon Rainbow Dash. Very soon you'll soar above us all."
>Dr. Pratt looks past you.
"Gentlemen, let's get her assembled."

>Your life may have been short, but it was richly experienced in some ways
>You laughed, cried, and roared with rage
>You ate too much, ate too little
>You had fit and active days
>You had lazy days where you did nothing
>You broke bones, got sick, got better
>You had a few friends, you had days terribly alone
>You loved and lusted and lost
>In some ways you thought you'd felt all there was to be felt
>It was a thought that brought you comfort in your final hours as you came to terms that the agreement would not be fulfilled
>But you were wrong
>No memory or experience that remained in either your solid-state or hard-disk was anything like this
>Nothing compared to having two forelegs shoved gloriously into your shoulder-ports
>A pulse climbed your shoulders, up your neck, and through the depths of your skull, illuminating every inch of gold and copper with the news
>They didn't wait or ask you to do anything with those legs before proceeding to the rest of your body
>The lower torso was a more involved affair
>The forelegs and all their connections had simply and snugly snapped in place
>Your ass-end had to be connected cable-by-cable before getting locked into place.
>You knew every time they hooked up something new.
>You could "feel" it as something within and beyond your control identified and accepted each addition and change.
>Guess you're plug-and-play?
>But you still can't move at all.

>The hind-legs lock in similar to the forelegs, just in the rear half of the torso.
>But they're a bit bigger and heavier than the forelegs, and farther away from the thing holding you up
>One engineer leans against your back while another lifts up a leg and thrusts it in
>KLUNK
>You do not have a tactile sense.
>At least not yet. Maybe they'll surprise you by turning one on later.
>But the deep industrial sound, like a luxury car door closing shut with some oomph, is so satisfying you can do nothing but imagine that it felt really, really good
>KLUNK
>Both legs.
>The wench above begins to lower.

>The WINCH begins to lower.
>You still can't move.
"Hey, how am I supposed to stand up?"
>An engineer whose name you do not know answers between huffs of breath
"Don't worry... we got ya..."
>Oh come on.
>You're a Pegasus. Not that heavy.
>Not like you're an Earth-Basic or Earth-Factotum.
>Built to fly. Light.
"What was so hard about that? I'm not that heavy."
>He probably is out of shape.
"No, you're not, but... before... did you ever assemble a pony?"
>You flew her, but...
"Uh... nnnoooo..."
>He takes a deep recovery breath.
"The legs aren't easy to remove or replace. Those locks are about as strong as they come. Can't have you buckling or losing limbs under extreme forces."
>Guess seeing your hooves fly away in the middle of a loop-de-loop would be pretty bad.
>Oh shit wait
>YOU HAVE HOOVES NOW
>You'd totally look down if you could
>KLKLANK
>Your hind legs have met the floor.
>KLKLANK
>Your forelegs have landed.
>The winch gently yanks up
>KUHLINK
>It releases.
>You're freestanding.
>Perfectly balanced. Perfectly stable. Perfectly immobile.
"Hey Doc?"
>Dr. Roberts glares from the console.
>Dr. Pratt smiles.
"Turn me on."
>Dr. Roberts looks back down.
"We're not done yet."
>He doesn't say anything else but with your ludicrous acuity, you're pretty sure he mouthed something else just after that.
>Rhymes with store.

"We have one... two more pieces to attach before we can safely bring you fully online."
>Dr. Pratt crossed the room while you were analyzing Roberts' shitmouthing.
>More like Rob-butts.
>Your insults are The. Best.
>The Good Doctor seems to be waiting for something.
>The standard Pegasus model is about three feet, or nine hands, from floor to withers.
>Your shoulder is noticeably below Doc's waist.
>You couldn't really tell before but he's a big guy.
>You're an awful little pony.
>Noise from behind. Rolling a cart out.
"Little one?"
>The hell kind of name is that?
"Uhhh you talking to me?"
"What is your name?"
>Why does he keep asking that?
"Rainbow. Dash."
>You punctuate the hell out of it this time.
>Maybe he'll hear you're serious.
>He doesn't smile. Instead he reaches up and...
>You can detect weight and movement atop your head through your other senses, but you can't really feel anything.
>Is he petting you?
>Do you want this? Or do you say something?
>Might be awkward to point it out.
"Are you... petting me?"
"You served your country very nobly. I read your file. Very familiar with it. You exercised supreme judgment and exemplary character in amoral circumstances. Giving you a chance to live on, in service to science..."
>Yeah he's definitely petting you.
>Wonder what it would feel like...
"I can understand if you want to forget the things you saw, be somebody else, but I think you should try to keep hold of those experiences. There aren't many people left who are loyal to doing what's right over what they're told to do."
>Woah this is some heavy shit.
"Are you telling me I should be loyal?"
>He stops petting and looks down.
"Because hellooo--do you see who you're talking to?"
>That got him to laugh."
"Right."
>A cart rolls in.
>"Your favorite parts are here."

"I must warn you though, this is going to feel a little strange."
>You can't feel anything, how strange could it...
>Uhhh
>Was that a drill you just heard?
"What was that?"
>Dr. Roberts is tacking away at the console and you detect movement on your neck and back.
>Dr. Pratt begins rubbing behind your ears again.
"Impact wrench."
>Maybe it's a good thing you can't feel things.
>Something slides into your back.
>Your whole chassis shudders as the torque gun shouts, securing the first bolt.
>Dr. Roberts holds his fist in the air, then punches gently forward.
>Ughghagh don't like that
>Something in your head just did something.
>Something in your back clinks forcefully, then hums.
"As I'm sure you're aware, Pegasus wings are subjected to harsher forces than anything else any other pony model encounters."
>Pratt thinks a moment and corrects himself.
"Anything you'd want them to encounter."
>Yeah, anti-armor shells were the unpleasant end for a lot of drones.
"Do you remember how many joints hold each wing to the rest of the Pegasus chassis?"
>Oh cool pop quiz, you know the answer to this.
"Eight. Thousand. Million. And a half."
"Twelve."
>This might take a while.
"Ooooowowugh whyyyy..."
>The second joint just attached.
"Why does that feel so bad?"
"I thought you couldn't feel anything?"
"In my head. He's doing something in my head."
>Dr. Pratt looks up to Dr. Roberts. The latter shakes his head.
"You shouldn't be feeling anything. Just try to bear with it and we'll investigate."
>OHHHHOOF WHY IS IT GETTING STRONGER?

"You said it'd feel a little strange!"
>STRAIGHT ANSWERS WOULD BE NICE.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I did. You're fine."
>WHAT
>OH GOD HEAD
"sssssSSSSttoop"
>Everything stops.
"It's okay, we can stop a moment. Gentlemen, just hold the wing in place a moment. Don't stress the latches."
>Is this... a headache?
"He's doing something to me!"
"Sir I swear on my life that I am only activating her internal wing latches and connections."
>Dr. Roberts actually sounds alarmed.
"What is he doing to you... Rainbow Dash?"
>Pratt forced himself to say it.
"I don't know! Something fizzles in my head."
>It's already cleared up and cooled off.
"He's making me do things. I can feel that. I can't feel the wrench but I can feel him on the computer... inside me."
>Silence.
"Does it hurt?"
>Do you feel pain? Can you feel pain?
"It feels weird. It feels like it SHOULD hurt. I remember headaches."
>Wait the conflicting answers.
"You said it was going to feel strange but then that I shouldn't be feeling anything. What's the deal!?"
>Pratt takes one very deep breath. In. Out.
"I meant your back would feel strange. The vibrations and sounds from your interior movements would be unusual. You shouldn't feel anything in your head."
>Does that make sense?
>You can't tell.
>Vulnerable.
"Make him not do that again."
>No more being inside your head.
>That's gotta end now.
"There's no way for you to lock your wing latches in place at the right time without Dr. Roberts manually triggering them from the console."
>No it's gotta end now.
"We can slow down and try to give you a moment between each latch. If we do that, do you think you can bear this?"
>No it's gotta...
>But these are your wings...
>But he's inside you...
>Inside your head and you can FEEL it...
>But you want to fly
"O... okay."
>fffff
>01010100 01001000 01001001 01010011 00100000 01001001 01010011 00100000 01000001 01010111 01000110 01010101 01001100 00001101 00001010
>the slower pace took an hour and a half.

>You remember strenuous activity, physical and mental, from... before.
>You remember how you could take some punishment but only so much before you would get tired.
>Hard thinking begs for hard sleeping.
>Had your head torqued and twisted like this before, you're sure you would have begged for some narcotics, embraced unconsciousness.
>But that wasn't an option here and the doctors couldn't understand why you were in "pain" from the triggering of the wing latches.
>So you endured.
clink
>You couldn't feel anything on your back. You couldn't feel the latches themselves.
clink
>Only the intrusion upon your most private sanctum.
clink
>Only the finger scratching in the depths of your mind.
clink
>You remained lucid through it all.
clink
>A part of you, a little corner of consciousness, counted seconds with atomic perfection, kept measure of all creation.
clink
>And maybe that's why it was so bad.
clink
>For all the discomfort and "pain" of it all.
clink
>There was no physical delirium to distract you.
clink
>No swear word to make it feel better.
clink
>No drug to dull your senses.
clink
>Just the invader.
clink
>The burglar in your brain.
clink
>And the total, absolute helplessness.
clink
>You couldn't distract yourself with other complex thoughts. No daydreams.
clink
>Each bubbling burst through your programming drew your focus.
clink
>So you just repeated a word. The word.
clink
"Fly."
clink
"Fly."
clink
"Fly."
clink

>And yet when it was over and done
>When the wings were secure
>And the manual mental penetrations of Dr. Roberts were withdrawn
>You felt fine
>No rush of dopamine relief
>Just fine
>Shouldn't that have been scarring?
>No.
>You asked for it and it was necessary.
>Just weird is all.
>So why did it feel so bad at the time?
>The helplessness?
>Well you're not helpless.
>Not for long.
>Your mood elevated quickly
>Rose to a soaring baseline
"Alright Rainbow Dash, that's all of them. You're all put together."
>FINALLY
>Dr. Pratt looked relieved.
"Great. Now turn me on."
>Dr. Roberts snorted.
>Ffffffuck that guy
>The Good Doctor hesitated.
"We will momentarily, but..."
>No. No more helpless hanging.
"Nope. No buts. Just turn me on. I'm locked here standing. Just let me move a little."
>You're going to leap.
"Dash, I am still concerned about your reaction to the manual..."
>He isn't listening.
"That's over. Let me move. I wanna move."
>You're going to flip.
"If there is a problem with the elasticity simulation..."
>bzzt don't care bzzt
"Flip the switch. Let's go now!"
>You're going to fly.
"Sir, if she wants to stand on her own, we should let her stand on her own."
>Yeah you tell 'em Roberts.
>Roberto
>Roboto
>Mr. Roboto
>Wait, Roberts?
>Dr. Pratt sighs.
"Alright. Shut off core motor inhibitors. Let's see what the simulator can do."
>YES
>One last invasion
>You feel it
>You feel the circuit fire
>You make yourself think you feel it
>yes yes yes
>This is gonna be awesome!
"Done."
>LEAP!!!

>Locking your arms in excitement you forget you have no arms.
>Squatting your legs to charge up a marvelous leap, you forget you have four legs.
>With gusto, your ass springs into the air as your forelegs stay put.
>A handstand
>A hoofstand
>For which you were not prepared
>So your ass keeps going
>The whole of your body falls forward
>In a panic your forehooves try to balance and grab hold of something
>But you have no fingers
>And so, the world's first human consciousness transferred into a non-android form flipped forward, onto a table, crashing through it, landing on her back and wings.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MYAGyZlBY0

>And you couldn't care less.
"Oh my gosh!"
>Your legs wave about in the air while your wings fitz about aimlessly.
>Weights and gyroscopes swing about in your chassis as you attempt to roll over.
>Your wings are stiff and win the way
>So you just sway
"OH MY GOSH."
>THIS IS AWESOME
>Dr. Roberts is roaring with laughter.
>BUT FUCK HIM THIS IS AWESOME
"Well it looks like the elasticity simulator is working just fine. She hasn't figured out the wings yet, though."
>Dr. Pratt keeps his space as you thrash your legs about in glee.
>You squeal like a schoolgirl and can't help but laugh
>Your audio outputs the most delightful noise as your entire chassis shudders with joy.
"I'm alive!"
>It's one thing to think.
"You did it! This is real! This is really happening!"
>Or be Pinocchio, hanging from high tech strings
"I'M REALLY REAL! I'M ALIVE!"
>But they cut the strings and now you're free.
>Thoughts unbound by the weight of ticking mortality multiply, the stress and strain of everything before blanked from your cache.
>You have four awesome legs and two awesome wings.
>Red hairs and yellow hairs and green and blue and all the rest are tumbled over in front of your eyes.
"I'M RAINBOW DASH!"
>You roll over and keep going, barrel rolling into a cabinet.
>A racket of things breaking fills your ears as you cackle madly
>Dr. Pratt yells over the commotion to Dr. Roberts, still himself howling
"TURN ON HER TACTILE SENSES BEFORE SHE HURTS HERSELF!"

>You're manic as Dr. Pratt flies across to the console, shoving Dr. Roberts aside.
>Another little tick, deep in your mind.
>Sensation.
>You stop moving immediately.
>The floor is hard and cold.
>Cold. Cold. Cold!
>But the little hairs of your coat are soft and warm.
>Warm. Warm. Warm!
>You hadn't even noticed before that your external cover wasn't mere paint.
>You go quiet in awe and whisper.
"I can feel it. Actually feel it all."
>You feel the whole of your form. Your legs, wings, head, hair, eyelids.
>You feel air pass through your nostrils and right back out.
>Something entirely separate hums in your chest and thumps.
>No way
"Pull yourself together Dash and listen."
>He's right
>Gotta listen
>But you're alive.
>More than alive.
>The motor turns.
>Thump-click. Hmmm. Thump-click. Hmmm. Thump-click. Hmmm.
"You gave me a heart."
>The sensation isn't in your chest, it's more in your "gut."
>Dr. Pratt squats down beside you and gently grasps your head, brushing synthetic hairs from your eyes as he does so.
>It feels... nice.
"We gave you many things and we still have much to discuss."
>He's looking through you, through the floor, into the space between spaces.
"I would never just shove you into a cold weapon."
>He returns to Earth.
"It is on you to tell me if this is unwanted."
>He scratches behind your ear.
>Oh. Oh God yes.
"I'm afraid I can't really help myself with quadruped friends."
>Your leg twitches
"It's fiiiine"
>Dr. Pratt regains his focus and withdraws, standing up.

"Celdat--dictate."
>A speaker pings.
"The elasticity protocol works perfectly, beyond expectation. Subject demonstrates satisfactory command of both functions comparable to a biped and functions entirely foreign. Lack of coordination is expected and certain to improve with experience."
>The words fire off with machine precision.
"Subject expresses severe negative sensitivity to external access of her functions. Possible extension of elasticity simulation, possibly psychosomatic arising from other stimuli. Subject recovered from negative sensitivity in extremely short order. Further investigation necessary."
>He yawns as you sit back, listening.
>You're calmer now, but still excited.
>You test your motor skills, slowly extending a leg, retracting it.
"Continuity of consciousness is partially confirmed. Subject expresses characteristics dissimilar to that observed before this operation. She has immediately embraced as her own the identity of Rainbow Dash, the fictional character this Pegasus model was reconstructed to resemble at the request of CivOps. Topic must be addressed by counseling in addition to the continuity protocol."
>Sounds like he thinks you're crazy.
>Doesn't matter.
>Who are you?
>You are you, whatever you decide to call it.
"Behind schedule. Orientation and testing for basic non-motor functions and advanced motor functions delayed until tomorrow."
>He looks at you and thinks long and hard.
"Subject to be located in observation residence. End dictation."
>The speaker pinged again with a lower tone.
"Observation residence?"
>Sounds like no privacy.
"That better mean I get a room to myself."
>Dr. Pratt looks sleepy.
"You and a few dozen cameras. Come on. It's time for little ponies to go to bed."

>You are alone now.
>Just you and many, many cameras.
>Some are plainly visible.
>You are sure most are not.
>The observation residence is a simply adorned and sterile apartment.
>Could be confused for a hospital room with better furniture.
>Although it is a suite. A den, a bedroom, and a bathroom.
>Couch, tables, lamps, a bed, a desk, a large television.
>The window is not real. It is another screen that appears to simulate a foggy outdoors.
>It also has a small computer operated through voice commands--a Chorus.
>For some reason it does not have any other kind of computer or terminal.
"If you wish to 'sleep', just ask your chorus to run your sleep routine. I know you are uncomfortable with external operation, but it is all I can offer you for tonight."
>Dr. Pratt probably knew you had no intention of sleeping.
>You weren't tired at all.
>You could remember being tired.
>But now you were simply electric.
>And the bathroom had what you wanted most of all.
>A very large mirror.

https://aivi-surasshu.bandcamp.com/track/pocket-universe

>Thump-click. Hmmm. Thump-click. Hmmm. Thump-click. Hmmm.
>The lights shine into and out of your great big eyes.
>A tilt of your head and the reflection changes.
>They're a wine color.
>Until you relax and let your mind drift.
>The color drifts with it.
>You wave a little back and forth, shifting weight from shoulder to shoulder, letting yourself wander.
>You learn very quickly how to change the color of your eyes.
>It was actually part of the original war drone. The eyes possessed modulating LEDs that could change color and output light as may be necessary.
>Three Huns shivered as you illuminated them in bright white before wheeling it back to a blood red, into which they soon blended perfectly.
>And then you were in the bathroom again.
>Just leave it at wine. A rich deep Cabernet.
>It accentuates your blue coat.
>You press against your cheek gently with a hoof and it gives just a little.
>It feels real.
>It feels warm.
>It feels alive.
>You smile and your cheeks roll up into dimples.
>Thump-click. Hmmm.
>Your smile grows larger and you barely restrain a giggle.
>A few hairs fall out of place and swing in front of your vision.
>Yellow. Orange. Red.
>With a hoof you brush them away.
>You still can't fucking believe it.

>Your ears are very soft and malleable.
>They must have replaced the harder audio receptors from the war drone with something else.
>As far as you can tell, you can hear things just as well.
>Long nights in a sound-proof headset.
>You were intimately familiar with what you could hear with these ears.
>The rest of your pony body was just as grand.
>For the most part you looked very much like a living, organic creature, if unnaturally fantastic.
>Spots and details betrayed the fact that circuits, carbon, and steel lay beneath the 'flesh'
>One spot was the joint between the top and bottom halves of your barrel.
>A distinct, broad-toothed line zigzagged around your midsection where the soft skin tucked in and around the separate pieces.
>A similar, but straight line ran around where your legs attached.
>Two access ports were barely visible on your shoulders.
>But you weren't sure if they would be noticed by natural eyes with less acuity.
>The biggest thing that cried MACHINE were your wings.
>They weren't soft or feathery.
>They were vast, thin, and translucent.
>Optic threads illuminated them a gentle blue similar to your coat, but they were otherwise made of advanced nanofibers that could give way with one little electrical charge and become rigid as a rock with another.
>No perfectly rigid set of wings would have been able to provide the Pegasus model the VTOL functionality demanded by the armed forces.
>They could be very soft, in a way, like gossamer.
>They could be very hard.
>Very sharp.
>Very wet.
>Very red.
>And then you were in the bathroom again.
>Wrapping your forelegs around, you gave yourself a hug.
>You are warm and adorable and most importantly
>You
>Are
>Awesome

"I am going to soar."
>You can't think of what to say so you just say what you think.
>Because you want to hear yourself.
"I am going to fly to the end of the skies."
>You bite your lip.
"I'm gonna feel the wind in my ha... in my mane."
>You're smiling again.
>You 'exhale'
>It doesn't help. Just remembering an exhale doesn't have the same effect.
"I am..."
>Who are you?
"I am..."
>You close your eyes.
>You feel the lowered counter beneath your forehooves.
>You feel the floor beneath your hindhooves.
>You feel your tail wave with your bottom.
"I am..."
>You feel your past experiences come and go
>The lingering trials, tribulations, and triumphs of your example in humanity
"I am... human being."
>You open your eyes and see all your fantastic colors
"I am a young man who lived, who fought, and who almost died."
>The flesh that failed.
"Now I am that same person."
>Are you?
"But with a... cuter voice..."
>And more feminine.
"And four legs instead of two."
>And very pretty eyes.
"But I am the same pon... person inside."
>Are you?
"Yes. Yeah. Yeah!"
>Yeah!
"I am whatever the hell I want to be!"
>And I want to be...
"And if I choose to do this or that, or be like this or that, well it's the same soul making that choice, right!?"
>YEAH
>Shouting into the mirror you fail to hear the noise from the other room.
"So really I'm me no matter what I do!"
>YEAH
>Something's talking in there
"Who's there!?"
>You look quickly over your shoulder and draw your wings into your sides.
"I am Chorus, your computer intelligence assistant. I am sorry to surprise you. Would you like me to repeat my answer?"
>You asked a question, so the Chorus tried to answer.
"Uh..."
>One last glance at the mirror.
>Off the counter and into the den, with Chorus.
"Sure. I'm still me, right?"
>This really isn't a Chorus-appropriate question.
>But fuck it.
>Hehe, buttfuck.
>Chorus takes a moment to process.

"The question of existence is one contemplated without firm conclusion by human philosophers from the dawn of written civilization. Different persons have asserted mutually exclusive schools of thought."
>Egghead shit
"You may wish to consider the assertion of French philosopher René Descartes, 'cogito ergo sum', or 'I think, therefore I am.'"
>Oh yeah French guys that's totally relevaNOT.
"His conclusion was that even under terms of most radical doubt, that an entity might consider the question of its own existence was proof of the entity's existence."
>Did it just try to say the same thing in a less understandable way?
"I know I exist. I'm right here. Ugh. You're not helping."
>Chorus hesitated before a light circled about the top of its terminal.
"I apologize. Philosophy is an infirm subject prone to confusion. However, I believe it relevant to your earlier question."
>Chorus clicked and replayed a recording
"And if I choose to do this or that, or be like this or that, well it's the same soul making that choice, right!?"
>Chorus clicked again.
"I am not programmed for thorough contemplation of the problem you face. However, of the items I can find in my knowledge database, the information I have provided seems most relevant to your question."
>This is stupid
"Of course I exist. It's a dumb thing to say. Why would everybody celebrate a guy for saying that he exists?"
>Whoop-de-fuckin-doo
"I apologize as I have been insufficiently clear. In the greater context of his meditations, Descartes did not merely assert that he exists. He concluded that the only thing in which he could believe entirely was his own existence as a doubting, thinking entity. All other conclusions must follow therefrom. It is subject to criticism, but I believe it relevant to the question you asked."
>So...
"I'm right?"
>Chorus clicks but you cut her off.
"Hell yeah I'm right!"
>Chorus recalculates her contemplation.
"I will accept your conclusion."

"I think, so I am. I thought before and I think now, so I was and I still am. I think I'm a dude, then who's gonna tell me otherwise?"
>You bob your head in agreement with yourself
>A spectrum of hairs fall in front of your eyes
>But you don't care you're in the fuckin' zone now champ
"And if I think I'm a pony, and I'm praaancing about..."
>You do a remarkably competent jig on four legs
"...on four legs, then I'm a pony!"
>Chorus clicks
"I will accept your conclusion."
>You'll accept my dead and buried dick you glorified Siri.
"And if I think I'm awesome and cool and the fastest flyer around... and if I think I'm Rainbow Dash..."
>YEAH
"Then I'm Rain. Bow. Dash."
>I am Rainbow Dash.
"I will accept your conclusion."
>I AM RAINBOW DASH
"I'M RAINBOW DASH"
>You dance about
>Right legs forward, right legs back. Forward, back. Forward, back.
>Now left yeah forward back.
>Wave around the rump.
>And something tingles in your head.
>This time it is something very good.
>It feels like... something coming alive.
>An instinct forgotten, then remembered.
>You lift your gossamer feathers.
>Then bring down unyielding wings.
>UP
>OHMYGOSH YES UP
>Your head brushes the ceiling with that one tame flap
>DOWN
>OHNODOWN
>You land with a hard thud, four legs split out in four directions, chin on the floor
"OW"
>It hurt.
>It hurt?
>They programmed your tactile sensation to include negative inputs.
>They programmed you to feel pain.
"Ugh..."
>What do you do about pain?
"That hurt."
>Silence.
"Uh... Chorus? What do I do if I hurt myself?"
>Chorus clicks.
"Dr. Pratt has authorized me to intervene in the event of an acute concussive force or other failure. You have not triggered my intervention. However, I may interact with your sensory receptors on a temporary basis at your request."
>Yeah, you're not sure if you're supposed to do a four-legged split like this and it doesn't feel good.
"Hit me with that robo-asprin, Chorus."

"As you request, Rainbow Dash."
>ooOOOOO DON'T LIKE THA
>OH
>YEAH okay that's much better
>The pain disappears as you get back on your legs
"Thanks."
>A light circles about the top of Chorus' terminal
"It is a pleasure to serve."
>What else can she do?
"Uh... hey Chorus."
"Yes, Rainbow Dash?"
"What else do you know about me?"
"I have complete knowledge of your current build and programming. What would you like to know?"
>Neat
>Where do you start?
>You're not very good at memorizing things.
"Can you... upload things to me?"
"Your systems are strictly programmed to ensure against system failure due to insufficient memory. Such a failure could result in complete non-function."
>You'd crash.
"So you can't Matrix me up some egghead sh... stuff?"
>Rainbow Dash is an awesome mare who doesn't swear... often...
"A manual write could inadvertently interfere with your imported brain function. Memory functions are exclusively reserved to your elasticity protocol."
>That keeps coming up...
"What is that?"
"The elasticity protocol is a program developed by Dr. Solomon Pratt at the California Institute of Technology. Its purpose is to accurately simulate in a digital form the neuroplasticity of the brain. The program is the foundation of transfer of consciousness from flesh to machine, as opposed to methods that rely on the preservation of the human brain."
"Uh... so why call it elasticity instead of plastic-city?"
"Dr. Pratt attributes its invention to a thought experiment performed while launching rubber bands at a graduate professor."
>Best doctor
"Chorus?"
"Yes, Rainbow Dash?"
"Are there any others like me?"
"No."
>You're the first?
"You uh... you wouldn't like to me would you?"
>Chorus does not click or hesitate.
"No."
>Good enough
>Until the window simulates a sunrise, you pepper her with questions about yourself, the Good Doctor, and the world.

>The door slides open with a hum.
>They actually made it sound like the Starship Enterprise.
>What a bunch of fuckin' nerds
>Neato fuckin' nerds
>Dr. Pratt steps through
>He looks flushed and frustrated, but attempts to exhale whatever has him worked up
"Morning Doc!"
>Sleep is for the fleshy
"Good morning Rainbow Dash. Please follow me, we need to..."
>Oh, you got this, you got Chorus to tell you the whole schedule
"Mental processing test. You're gonna throw a bunch of math at me."
>This is literally the only time in your life you're been excited for math.
"I'm gonna blow you away, Doc. I can do it all faster than a Texas Instrument on 'roids. Go ahead. Ask me. Ask me to figure out a differential equation."
>Now it is you who is the egghead.
>Literally unstoppable.
"I am afraid there has been some changes to the schedule."
>Doc's effort to fight off tension fails.
"Oh. Well then, where we going?"
"Outside for a press conference."
>Public statement of success was at the very end of the schedule Chorus gave you
>Days from now.
>But outside is outside and you can't say you're upset about this.
"Cool."
>Outside means open sky.
>Open sky means you could...
"Cool cool cool."

>Out the room and down the very plain hall
>21st century architecture at its most brutalist
>You and the Doc stop in front of a set of stainless steel elevator doors and wait
"Hey Doc, aren't you going to..."
>There is no button to call the elevator
"...hit the... bu... huh."
>He isn't looking at you.
"It will be here momentarily."
>A painfully silent pause.
>You test your legs and wings, bending, 'stretching'
"Dash, I believe it would be best if you said and did as little as possible when we get up here."
>Uh
"Why? Don't you want to show me off?"
>You sure as sugar want to show yourself off
>Do a jig, twirl your tail
>And most important of all
>Fly
"The people who will be present at this event do not care about you."
>Woah
"The press will ask the questions they are expected to ask and will egg you on to be what they want you to be. On our side will be lick-spittles and those who see you only as the sum of your parts."
>The Doc seems to swell up a bit in his coat.
>The man is really stressed.
"I know it goes against your nature, but I must beg you to not do anything rash."
"Okay."
>But you want to.
"If you're a boring, shy sounding... toy... it should hopefully get us back on schedule."
>Who's he calling a toy?
"Okay."
>Fuck him.
>Something stops on the other side of the elevator doors.
>They open to reveal Dr. Roberts.
"You ready to get this shitshow over with?"
>Roberts hasn't shaved.
"Full Belichek. Total non-answers. We get back inside as soon as possible and hope the suits go away."
"10-4."

>The elevator ride is silent and tense.
>The interior is mirrored so you can look everybody over easily despite being so short
>Dr. Pratt looks like he could shred his coat and tear a phonebook in half.
>Dr. Roberts looks like he could use a shower and a cup of coffee black as the darkest stretch of space
>You look like you jumped out of a comic book or a little girl's happiest dream
>Amazing how easily they dolled up this death machine into the cutest thing imaginable
>You're still getting used to the new self-concept
>That's you you're looking at
>You're the pony
>Who are you?
>You are Rainbow Dash
>Hell yeah
>Dr. Pratt looks over at Dr. Roberts
"I don't suppose you have a giant wind-up key I should plug her with."
>Roberts chuckles.
"If I did it wouldn't help. You're the one who wanted to make sure nothing did any 'plugging' back there."
>You are standing right there.
"Uh, hello. I'm right here."
>You didn't realize that much thought went into the decision to not give you a rear exhaust port.
>They both quietly laugh before relaxing with a sigh.
>The moment of reduced stress doesn't last long.
>The elevator stops after going up for what seems like forever.
>The doors open
>Blinding sunlight pours in.
>Your eyes quickly adjust.
>There are soldiers and agents fucking everywhere.

>Toy huh.
>Awful lot of hubbub for a toy.
>The agent closest to the elevator takes quick glances at each doctor and then rests his gaze on you.
>His face betrays no emotion
"Gentlemen, right this way please."
>You'll show them who's gentle.
>And you're more than any man now.
>Nonetheless you follow the doctors and agent through the crowd, through what appears to be a security checkpoint, and into a lobby.
>You can't really tell how many people are in here, you can't see over anything
>Your best view is between legs, but even then you're tall enough that you'd have to lower your head to get it
>A bat of your wings would take you up
>But everybody's crowded close around you.
>You'd knock somebody over.
>Or maybe even cut them, as sharp as your wings can be when charged rigid.
>You bump into Roberts' legs
"Ow!"
>They stopped when you were looking around at asses
"So is this our boy?"
>A sultry, if aged voice slips around the bodies to your ears
>A hint of southern. Church going. Black.
>You can imagine a great big hat on Sundays.
"Yes General, though I may hesitate to call her a 'boy' at this point."
>The Doctors part to reveal a shortish woman in a perfectly pressed and fitted army service uniform.
>Milk chocolate complexion dotted with liver spots.
>One star and a handful of medals, affixed to a deep blue.
>You instinctively salute and nearly lose your balance, hobbling weight to your other foreleg.
>Are you still in the Air Force?
>She smiles.
"At ease airman."
>You ease as she holds out a hand.
"Prescott Banks. It is a pleasure to finally meet you..."
"Senior Airman Rainbow Dash!"
>Isn't Prescott a dude's name?
>Also if they expect you to keep serving as a pony they should probably give you a promotion.
>Dr. Pratt looks deeply uncomfortable.
"That is not the name I have in my record but all the same I am happy to hear it, Rainbow Dash."

>Dr. Roberts clears his throat.
"As we are already running well behind schedule, General, perhaps we should address the press before they get rowdy."
>General Banks' thin smile disappears like a puff of cigarette smoke into the wind
"They will do as we wish, Doctor. Their impatience is irrelevant."
>She emphasizes that last word.
"I am not beholden to impertinence."
>Yeah fuck you, Dr. Roberts.
>He can barely restrain his displeasure with the fact that she just politely shit all over him.
>You like this lady already.
>Even if she might could still order you around.
>You did sort of admit ranks a moment ago, didn't you?
>The cost of doing business.
"Rainbow Dash, how do you feel?"
>The General has returned her gaze to you.
"Awesome, ma'am."
>Oh she's expecting something more than that.
"Walking on four legs takes some getting used to. And I haven't had a chance to test my wings yet."
>She nods and smiles again.
"Perhaps then we should give you an opportunity in just a moment."
>She looks to Dr. Pratt and cuts him off with a silent stare before he can protest, then returns to you.
"Do you still feel human?"
>Better
"I feel like me. But lighter. I don't feel tired or weighted by anything. Kinda spritely."
"That sounds wonderful. Perhaps I should have Dr. Pratt provide me the same treatment."
>Her smile grows into a big grin.
>Pratt feigns agreement.
"Airman Dash, we are going to step outside to inform the press of the success of your operation. They may wish to ask you questions, but I do not believe you are under any obligation to answer them at this time."
>The Doctors look relieved.
"However,"
>Your ears detect the faint but telltale sound of rectums clenching
"It would be rude to call them all together and provide them with nothing. Do you believe you are ready for a simple demonstration of your abilities?"
>YES
"Yes ma'am."
"Excellent. Then shall we?"