“Hello mum! It is so great to finally meet you!” A robotic voice declares as I stumble out of the pod. It startles me, as the only voice in the lab should be Cora’s. I look towards the source, and see a Mr. Handy model robot hovering a few feet from me with its eyes focused on me.

“Cora! Neutralize the intruder!” I shout as I run behind my pod for cover. If only I had a weapon or knew some offensive spells...I glance back around the pod at the robot still hovering there. None of the turrets are moving or shooting at it.

“What intruder?” Cora asks. “I’ll have you know, we have never had a single intruder in the lab under my watch! My security is flawless!” She declares. Then what is with this robot? Could it have somehow made itself invisible to her cameras and sensors? Is someone controlling it?

“The robot floating right there!” I shout, pointing a hoof at it. “You see it, right? It isn’t messing with your systems or anything?”

“Huh? You mean Macro? Oh no, he’s my new friend! Don’t worry, I found him and reprogrammed him,” She tells me.

“Indeed!” The robot, Macro, says. “Mistress Cora found me, confused and rusting in some ruins, and gave me purpose again! And she has told me so very much about you, mum.” I hesitantly walk out from behind the pod.

“So...he’s friendly then?” I ask.

“Yep!” Cora replies.

“Okay then…” I mutter, walking over to the robot. “Nice to meet you...Macro? Was it?” I say, offering it a hoof.

“Yes mum, Macro is my name,” It says, taking my hoof in its pincer and shaking it. “It stands for Maintenance and Cleaning Robotic Opthamologist. Mistress Cora gave me the name. Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Ophthalmologist…?” I ask.

“Yea, I found him in an ophthalmologist's office. Apparently he was a lasik and surgical assistant. Has his own doctorate in it, too,” Cora replies.

“Okay...so, uh, why is it here?” I ask.

“I wanted a friend,” Cora says. “Also, having help cleaning and maintaining the lab, like his name implies. Oh! And he came up with a better name for the lab! Listen to this: Icicle Lab.”

“Icicle Lab, huh? Not bad, I suppose. Better than the series of numbers and letters we used before. I suppose we don’t have much use for designations anymore either, so a proper name is nice,” I tell her.

“Right!?” She says happily. “Also, why do you keep calling Macro ‘it’?” She asks.

I walk over to retrieve my PipBuck. “Well, because it is just a robot, right? Not like it is an AI, like you. Macro is just programming, lines of code that execute their function,” I reply. Putting on my PipBuck, the usual momentary blinding flash and then readouts of the information telling me that some of the systems are corrupted or damaged. But wait, what's this?

>S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Stats Compatibility Issue.
>Skill Stats Compatibility Issue.
>...
>...
>Generating New Stats.
>...
>Initial Boot Complete.

Initial boot...? And my stats, what the hell? Did the lab computer somehow force an update into it? I mess with a few buttons and settings, trying to figure out what is wrong.

“So am I, Ratchet!” Cora counters.

“You might be lines of code, but you aren’t just lines of code. You are an adapting, ever evolving program. You are able to to change your code on the fly and adapt to your surroundings,” I tell her. “Not even logical paradoxes trip you up. But you can put a normal robot into an infinite loop if you make them consider them. Robots and AI are completely different.”

“Yea...but…” She says, trying to argue back. I cut her off though.

“We’ve been over this before. AI are special because they have sentience. They have wants outside of what they need to function and execute their program,” I explain once again. “Robots do not. It doesn’t know any better, it is just a tool, like a hammer or a rifle. You can also create things, robots cannot. Like the wiring system inside your armor that even I don’t understand. Here, let me show you. Macro, do you want to go outside?” I ask the robot.

“What for mum?” Macro replies.

“Perhaps to admire the scenery?” I suggest.

“I have no need to,” Macro states. “But, if you would like me to accompany you, I will gladly oblige.”

“No, that is alright,” I tell it. “See Cora? Doing anything outside of what it is programmed to do isn’t important to it. It is made to be helpful, and that is why it suggested that it accompany me. I’m not trying to be mean, but Macro is just like a toaster. Only Macro can speak and move on its own. If you want, I will call it him, but he doesn’t care. Do you, Macro?” I ask.

“I have no preference, mum,” Macro replies simply.

“I guess, Ratchet,” Cora says sadly. “But, can you talk to him like a pony and not a thing?” She asks.

I nod in agreement. “Sure, I can do that. So, anyway, Cora, why am I up this time? Did you find a pod?” I ask her.

“Not exactly,” She replies. “This time, it isn’t anything pod related or related to any large fighting or anything. It is more of a...moral dilemma the Wasteland is facing?” She says, clearly not sure how to put it.

“Okay, so it wasn’t just to meet Macro. That’s good,” I mutter, heading for the armory. “So, what is it, exactly?” I ask, adding a second later, “Oh, and what year?”

“The year is sixty-six and we are facing the rise of slavery. Specifically, the foundation of a town dedicated to slavery. I think I mentioned slavery was becoming a thing previously, but that it was not widespread,” Cora explains. “Now, however, it is becoming more far reaching. And with a town serving as a central hub for it, it is on the rise.”

I frown. Slavery was once an issue, long, long ago, but it had since been abolished. Now, in the lawlessness of the Wasteland, it is making a recurrence? “So, we are going to go and stop the town from owning slaves. Kill the slave owners and sellers if we have to. They are no different than raiders. Taking away a ponies freedom is almost as bad as killing them outright. Sometimes, it is even worse,” I say.

“Maybe?” Cora says. “It is kind of...complicated. It isn’t actually all that...bad. Not like the slavery we know about, anyway.”

“Not that bad? But slavery is slavery,” I tell her.

“I think, maybe you should talk to the pony in charge of the town. Then maybe you will understand what I mean,” She replies.

“Really? You think they are just going to tell me to talk to the boss when I’m trying to put a stop to them owning and selling slaves?” I ask her. That’s a good way to find yourself without a leader.

“They actually encourage it,” Cora informs me. “Anyone who doesn’t like the idea of slavery, they let talk to their boss. Even I did so. It is a perfectly peaceful discussion, they don’t try to strong arm your into listening to them, like I originally thought,” She says.

“You don’t say…” I mutter. “Ok then, what is this town called?” I ask.

“Paradise,” Cora says. Of course it is. Name a town that does horrible things something nice. Make ponies think that it isn’t so bad. I pull on my barding and slip into my lab coat.

“Say, Cora, what season is it?” I ask her. “Do I need to dress warmer, or will this be fine?”

“That should be fine, it is early autumn and temperatures haven’t started getting too low yet,” She replies.

This it is then. I start putting the knives into their sheaths and then holster Forgiveness. Lastly, I pull on my empty saddlebags and put a few extra boxes of ammo and a small stash of caps into them. “So, what is raider activity like between here and Paradise?” I ask as I make my way to the clinic to stock up on healing supplies.

“Not anything spectacular. Most of the larger groups that split from Grimoire’s army have either been destroyed or split into even smaller groups. Paradise also has its own security force that protects the town and the area around it,” Cora explains. “But, before we reach their protection area, we might run into a few raiders here and there.”

“I see,” I mutter, opening the cabinet that holds our healing potions. “Oh, geez Cora, I see you’ve been stocking up,” I says as I pull a few out and put them in my bags.

“Yep! I don’t use potions, so any that I find I just store away. Same with bandages and a good deal of the ammo you use. Though, I do sell the really niche items. Like rockets, energy weapons and ammo, that sort of thing,” She says. “Most of what I use is scrap metal, 5.56 ammo, and the occasional gem.”

“Well, I’m not complaining,” I say with a smile as I pull out the drawer of bandages and put a few rolls into my bag. “Alright, I got my armor, weapons, ammo, some caps, and medical supplies. Am I forgetting anything? I ask.

“Food and water?” She suggests.

I blink at a nearby camera for a moment. Oh yea… “How could I forget?” I mutter. I make my way to the kitchen and stock up on some supplies from there. “Okay, anything else?” I ask.

“Nope! We are all set and ready to go!” Cora says, walking out of the workshop in her armor to join me in the hall.

“Great, then let’s get going. The sooner we free those slaves and put an end to this, the better.”

“Hey Cora...Do you remember when you said that that the raider presence wasn’t anything spectacular between Icicle Lab and Paradise?” I ask her as a bullet whizzes past my head. “I guess this group didn’t get that memo, hu?” I say, throwing a knife at a charging raider and catching him in the neck.

“Don’t blame me! This is really strange. I’ve passed through this location dozens of times recently!” She shouts as she shoots a raider trying to get above us on a rooftop. We are in a sort of shantytown, something ponies threw together at some point but eventually abandoned. It is basically five small, wooden and metal shacks and a busted wooden wagon turned on its side that the two of us are using for cover.

A group of eleven, now nine, raiders apparently decided to move in and ambush travelers. Cora and I are behind the wagon in the middle of the shacks, the two we just killed were behind us, and the other nine are spread out around us. “Recently, hu? Did you tell me once that time feels different for you than me? Like you have more or something? So when you say ‘recently’ do you mean a few weeks ago or a few years ago?” I ask as I peek around the wagon, only to jerk my head back to avoid getting shot. “One behind the shack on the left, bolt action rifle, I think,” I mutter.

“Four days ago,” Cora says. “They must have moved in here after then.” A spray of automatic fire hits the wagon on Cora’s side. “Two in the windows of the second shack on the right, smgs,” She mutters.

“Well, that’s good news,” I reply. “Maybe we are their first targets.” If we can put an end to them now, we can save innocent travelers from falling victim to them. I breath on one of my better condition knives, rub it on my lab coat, and float it out past the wagon. “Got one...inside the far left shack’s doorway,” I mutter. “Assault rifle?”

“Hopefully,” Cora agrees. “Be right back,” She says, and then runs out of the cover of the wagon and towards the closest shack. A few bullets ping off her armor, but nothing penetrates before she gets into the cover of the shack. I watch as a raider with a metal pipe in his mouth charges around the corner at her, only for Cora to spray him with her assault rifle. After a few moments, she runs back over to me and takes cover behind the wagon again. “Two on the far rooftops with rifles. Other two are inside the right shack, couldn’t see their weapons,” She mutters.

“Ok. How about this...let’s switch sides,” I say, and move over towards her. She nods and move around me and we switch sides of the wagon. “Right, you take the two on the roofs, the one in the doorway, and the one with the bolt action. I’ll take the four inside the shacks on the right, sound good?” I suggest.

Cora nods. “Let me go out first to draw their fire. Wait a few seconds then go,” She says, getting up to a crouched position.

“You got it,” I say, and hold out my hoof to her. She looks at it, then bumps it with her own. “Let’s do this!” Cora charges out of cover and starts shooting as I mentally count a few seconds before turning the corner of the wagon as well. I run directly for the first shack on the right and practically throw myself into the wall as the raiders start shooting at me. Okay...two inside with unknown weapons.

I take a deep breath and slowly raise my head up to peek inside the window. “Eeep!” I shriek as a fire axe comes down on the window sill just beside the right side of my muzzle. Stumbling backwards, I draw a knife as the raider with the axe jumps through the window and pulls her axe out with her. She floats it beside her in her magic.

“Well, well, well. I guess you decided to come to me, hu?” She growls with a twisted grin on her lips. She walks slowly towards me as another raider jumps through the window carrying a pistol in his mouth. “I was thinking of walking over to that wagon you were cowering behind and cutting it into little bits, and you along with it,” She says with a laugh. “Of course,” She spins the axe, showing me the back of it, “I’d use this end on your armored friend first, get right through their armor and straight through their skull!”

I throw my knife at her, but she easily deflects it with the axe, sending it sliding into the dirt. “But, I’m glad you saved me the trouble! I can just chop you up here and now!” She shouts as she swings the axe horizontally towards me. I raise another knife to try and block it as I move just out of her reach, but her swing knocks the knife from my magic’s grasp. “Heh, knives, hu?” She sneers. “You’ll need something bigger than that to even think of hitting me.”

“Oh, they’ll work eventually,” I mutter as I try to keep her between me and the buck with the pistol. I draw two more on my knives and throw them at her at the same time. She deflects one and move her head to avoid the others. I draw my last two knives as she laughs.

“Even if you do manage to hit me, I’m wearing some of that fancy stab resistant barding. The kind I hear police used to wear back in the day,” She tells me with a smirk. “Sure, it isn’t enough to stop most bullets, but since I fight up close, that doesn’t bug me too much. You’d be much better off drawing that revolver you got slung on your side there. You know, make this fight interesting,” She says, nodding her head at Forgiveness.

I keep backing up as she walks toward me. One...two...there. I stop moving and point my knives at her. “This revolver isn’t for you,” I say, glaring at her.

She snorts. “Oh? Not for me, huh? So what, are you giving up? Or maybe you think you can fight me with just those two knives,” She says with a chuckle.

“If you’ve been counting, you’ll remember I have seven knives, not two,” I tell her with a smirk.

She laughs. “Yea, you DID. But you threw the other ones. And now they are lying around...in the…” Realization seems to hit her. “Shit!”

At that moment, I envelop the knives that I threw at her in my magic, all four of them that are within my reach. They are all around her, not just in front of her, and in an instant, I send those four and one I have before me at her, all aimed at her exposed head and neck. Two hit her in the neck, one nicks her ear, and the other two she either deflects or dodges, but it is enough. She grinds her teeth and glares at me angrily as her axe falls from her magic. “Magic,” I say as I throw my remaining knife at the buck behind her as she falls.

It hits him in the mouth, causing him to gasp out in pain and drop his pistol. I cringe realize I failed to take him out in one throw, and quickly grab the knives sticking out of the mare with my magic and run up to the buck. “No hard feelings,” I say as I stab them into him. His eyes focus on me for a moment, flaring hatred and the desire to kill me, but slowly the life in his eyes drains away. I pull the knives out and wipe them on his barding. “Okay...two down…” I pant as gather up my knives. Four...five...six...I look over at where the first raider who charged Cora and I is lying. I’ll have to get that one later.

“Right, onto the next shack and then we’ll be-,” I am cut off as automatic fire starts spraying around the corner of the shack and two more raiders come into view. Judging by their smgs, these are the other two I was going to take out. Why couldn’t they have just waited patiently? I quickly jump through the window I nearly got my head split open at and land inside the shack, but not before I feel a few rounds strike my rump and rear leg. I fall onto the floor and look back where I got hit.

Two shots hit the barding near my hip and didn’t do much damage. But, one shot found its way just where the barding ends before continuing on the leg, and two more shots found gaps in the leg armor itself. The wounds don’t look too bad, so as long as I finish this up quick and get them bandaged, they should be fine. I wince as I get back to my hooves. Well, running won’t be an option. Surprise it is then.

“Oi lookie, the bitch ran away!” I hear of them say outside, followed by laughter.

“I guess we’ll just ‘ave to go in an git ‘er, won’t we?” The other chuckles. That’s right. Come on in. I turn over a bookcase in the corner of the single room shack and get behind it. Then, I float my knives around the room. Come and get me.

A few moments later, one of them kicks open the door and I hear their hoofsteps on the wood floor. I spring up from behind the bookcase, floating a knife close, and when I see the raider standing just inside the doorway I shout, “I surrender!”

The buck in the doorway starts laughing. “You surrendah? Well shit. Hey Skunky, git in ‘ere, the bitch says she surrenduhs!” He calls back through the doorway, and a moment later, another buck walks in. Two earth ponies with smgs in their mouths.

“She surrenduhs?” The other, Skunky I guess his name is, questions, looking over at me. “Well look at dat, she only ‘as one knife she does. Ain’t no wonda she surrenduhd. But done killt Splintuh and Rusty, we can’t let hur surrenduh.”

“‘at she did, Skunky,” The first buck says, scratching his beard with a hoof. “Drop da knife miss and we will con...consid...condis…’ay Skunky, wuts dat word dem fancy ponies use ta say dey think aboot sumtin?”

“Uh...puh...ponda?” Skunky suggests.

“Naw, naw, dat odda word, ya know, dat starts wit a ‘C’?” The first buck clarifies.

Skunky is now rubbing his beard with a hoof as well. “Oh, let me think...cuh...cuh...con...consid...calculate?” He suggests. I fight the serious urge to facehoof.

“Dats da one!” The other replies. Forget my hoof, I’m fighting the urge to slam my face against this bookshelf. “Drop da knife miss and we will calculate yo surrenduh,” he says.

I let out a groan. “With pleasure,” I say, and drop the knife in front of me into the bookcase. Only I don’t just drop that knife, I also drop the knives I was slowly floating over them while they were talking. One into each of their skulls. Their eyes go wide for a moment before they fall to the ground with a thud. I float the remaining three knives back over and put them into their sheaths. “I feel like I just got stupider,” I mutter, pulling the knife out of the bookcase and putting it away. Then I walk over and pull the knives out of their heads and wipe them off on the bucks’ filthy barding before putting them away as well.

Ok, time to patch up these bullet wounds and see if Cora need any- “Ratchet!” Cora shouts as she runs up to the doorway. She looks down at the two dead raiders and then says, “Oh, you’re done too! Great! I took care of the others.” Then she gasps as she looks at my bleeding leg. “Are you alright!?” She asks as she walks up to get a closer look.

“Yes, Cora, I’m just about to take care of it. So, everyone is dead then?” I ask her as I float out some bandages from my bag.

She nods. “Yep! Counting the ones you took out, all eleven raiders have been dealt with,” She tells me.

“You say they are dealt with, Cora,” I say and then I use one of my knives to dig out the bullets in my leg, screaming out in the process. I will never get used to doing this. “But...Are they...dead?” I pant as I wrap my wounds with the bandages. “I don’t want them...to wake back up and...decide to try this on others.”

“As doornails,” She replies.

“Good, good,” I mutter. “Now then, let’s gather up their bodies into the wagon and take what we can from them,” I say as I wrap Skunky’s body in my magic and start to drag him outside.

“Why?” Cora asks. “Why not just leave them where they are and take what we need?”

“Because,” I tell her, “if we leave their bodies just lying around, it might dissuade others from settling down here. The shacks are pretty well made, after all. I don’t know why the original residents left, but they could be used again.”

“I don’t think that-” She begins, but I raise a hoof to cut her off.

“Let’s just do it. We can drag the wagon out of the buildings or something. It still has two functioning wheels, after all,” I tell her.

“Very well,” Cora mutters in reluctant acceptance.

After about an hour, we have all the raiders piled up in the wagon. On their bodies, we find some ammunition, random scrap, some drugs and medical supplies, a few caps, and half a box of matches. We take their weapons, except for the fire axe, which I leave behind in one of the shacks. It is too big and not worth carrying around. The guns we might get a good price for. Cora and I pull the wagon outside of the small town and I decide to burn them as well.

“Why didn’t we just burn them inside the town?” Cora asks.

“Not all of their bones are going to burn,” I reply. “Bones, just like corpses, would scare ponies off. I would like to bury them, but digging with our hooves isn’t an option right now.”

“But they are raiders,” She says.

“Raiders are still ponies, Cora,” I tell her. “Even if they made bad choices and ended up robbing and killing others.” I strike a match and put it back inside the box, then I put the box in the cart close to the clothing of one of the raiders. “There, that should do it,” I say with a nod. “Ok Cora, let’s keep going.”

“Whatever you say, Ratchet.”

“So...This is Paradise?” I ask skeptically as we stand on the outskirts of a town. It doesn’t strike me as anything special, definately nothing warranting the name ‘paradise’. It is essentially the remnants of town that has a makeshift wall built up around it. I can see construction happening inside the city as well as outside the wall. I guess they are expanding it?

“This is it. From what their leader, Silver, says, they plan to expand the city, build wall around the expansion, tear down the current wall, and then repeat the process until they deem the city finished,” Cora says as she continues walking towards the town.

“Why not just build a large wall around how far they want to expand and then go from there? Tearing down walls all the time seems like a waste of time and effort,” I say as I follow after her.

“Probably due to the amount of guards they would need to secure such a large area. As they attract more ponies, they can guard a larger area, you know,” She replies.

I suppose that makes sense. And now that she mentions it, if a large wall with nothing in it ever got broken into, raiders could spread out around the city easier. “I guess it is an ok idea,” I admit. I’m just a scientist, not a city planner.

As we approach the gate, two guards out front focus their weapons on us. “Halt! What is your business here?” One of them, a white unicorn mare, calls out.

“We are here to see Silver,” Cora replies.

“That’s Silver Tongue to you,” The mare snaps. “And why do you need to see him?” She sounds like she has a really snotty attitude.

“Calm down Marsh,” The buck beside her, a tan earth pony, says, lowering his weapon. “The mare in the armor is Cora, she’s been here before. I guess you’ve never been on duty when she’s come through. She isn’t any trouble,” He says.

The mare lowers her weapon and glares at the buck. “I thought I told you not to call me that Graham! My name is Marshmallow, not Marsh! Marshmallows are soft and sweet, like me. Marshes are gross and icky,” She says, scolding the buck.

Graham chuckles at her scolding, causing her to wrinkle up her nose and pout. “You shorten my name, I figured I would shorten yours. If you don’t like it, you could always just call me Graham Cracker instead. I mean, you are the one that makes everyone refer to Silver Tongue by his entire name,” The buck teases her with a smile.

Marshmallow narrows her eyes. “That is so not fair! Your name is two words! Mine is one!” She yells at him.

“I could always call you Mallow then,” Graham suggests with a sly grin.

“What the heck is a mallow!?” Marshmallow demands.

I clear my throat. “A mallow is a herbaceous plant with a hairy stem and pink or purple flower. It also has disk-shaped fruit,” I tell them, causing both to look at me in surprise. Marshmallow looks offended as well. “Uh, it is a pretty flower?” I offer.

Marshmallow blushes slightly. “Pretty?” She asks in a quiet voice.

“Yea pretty. In fact, it is almost the same color as your mane,” I tell her, noticing her pinkish-purple mane peaking out of her helmet.

“That settles it, I’ll call you Mallow from now on,” Graham says with a wide smile.

“W-what?” Marshmallow stammers, looking at him in shock.

“Of course,” He declares. “It is a pretty flower, just like you.” Marshmallow goes at least three shades redder and then immediately turns away from the three of us and sits down, covering her face with her front hooves. “Aw, come on now, don’t be like that, Mallow,” Graham cooes. He turns to Cora and I with a smile and says, “Go on in you two, it’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Cora and I say in unison and then Cora walks up to the gate and slowly pushes it open. I follow after her. Once inside, with the gate closed behind us, Cora says, “Don’t tell anyone, but those two are crazy about each other.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” I say sarcastically as I look around the town. It is surprisingly less...slavy...than I thought it was going to be. No cages or ponies in chains. In fact, it seems like a normal town. Cora and I walk down the central road, passing buildings with old signs advertising various products, like Sparkle-Cola and Robronco security robots. The usual ministry posters are hanging on the sides of buildings as well, though it is clear they have been there for a very long time.

We finally come to what looks like a police station. “Silver’s office is in here,” Cora says as she opens the door. We step inside and across from me I see an earth pony mare sitting behind a desk surrounded by reinforced glass. To my left is what looks like a waiting area complete with moldy chairs and a wiped-clean dusty table. On the right is a door marked ‘offices’. Cora approaches the mare with me a few steps behind.

The mare barely looks up when we approach, but starts speaking in a bored, monotone voice, “Welcome to Paradise, where you can find all the little pleasures to set yourself at ease. How can I be of assistance to you today?” She looks up from filing her hoof and stares at us, waiting for us to respond.

“We are here to see Silver,” Cora declares.

The mare looks at us flatly and says, “Mr. Silver Tongue is out of the office at the moment. Please take a seat and you will be notified when he is available. If that does not work for you, you can check back later.” She looks behind us and then says, “Next please.”

I turn to look behind us, but no one is there. When I turn around again, a sign has been placed in the window that says ‘on break’. I can still see her behind the window filing her hoof. I tap on the window. “Uh, excuse me?” I mutter.

“Read the sign,” Is all she says in response, without even looking up.

“Come on, Ratchet, let’s wait,” Cora says, already halfway to the chairs. I look back at the mare behind the glass and then go join Cora in the waiting area. “Silver is a busy guy, you know,” She says as I sit down.

“Yea, I bet,” I mutter, and look across the room. There is another reinforced window set into the wall the door marked ‘offices’ goes through. Through it, I can see some desks, terminals, and a few ponies walking about. At the far end of that room, is another door with a plaque I can’t quite make out. That door seems to lead to a room with more windows looking in, only there are blinds over the windows.

Then I notice a flicker of movement in one of the windows, like the blinds are being shifted aside. But I blink and it is like nothing happened. A moment later, the door bursts open and a fairly plump earth pony buck in a comparatively clean business suit charges out. All of the ponies in the other room immediately stop what they are doing and stare at the buck. I see the buck moving his mouth and can hear muffled angry yelling on the other side of the window. All the while the buck is walking through the rows of desks towards this side of the building.

The closer he gets, the more audible his yelling becomes. I think I make out the words ‘incompetent’ and ‘lazy’ a few times. After about a minute, the buck burst through the door into the room we are in. “Birch!” He yells, charging over to the mare behind the desk. “How many times have I told you, when ponies arrive and I am IN the office, show them in! Don’t tell them I am OUT and make them wait until I notice them!” He yells at her. The mare behind the office doesn’t seem to care at all and keeps filing her hoof. I notice the sign on the window is gone now.

His white coat seems to get redder and redder with rage as he yells at her. “Birch! Do not ignore me! I am your boss! Birch!” He says, slamming his front hooves down so hard it sends his well-groomed blonde mane flying.

Finally, the mare looks up from her hoof and gives the buck the same bored expression she gave Cora and I. “Oh, Mr. Silver Tongue, you’re back. Why didn’t you say so earlier? You have guests,” She tells him, nodding over to us before going back to her hoof.

“I never left since I arrived here this morning!” Silver shouts.

She looks at him with a unbelieving expression. “Then you must be overworked and not remember being out of the office, because you left and just got back,” She tells him.

Silver takes a deep breath and says, “I did not leave this office at all this morning.”

“Yes you did,” Birch replies.

“That is not how this works!” Silver shouts at her. “You are not going to make me believe I am losing my mind just so you can be lazy!”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. Maybe you should seek some help,” Birch counters.

“You do this every day!” Silver yells. “Don’t act like you don’t!”

“Every day, huh?” Birch says. “Then why haven’t been telling me when you get back? I think that would solve a lot of your problems.”

“I don’t leave!” He shouts.

“Oh sweetie,” She says, shaking her head. She then lifts something with her mouth and sticks it on the window. “Sorry, I’m on break,” She says and then goes back to filing her hoof once again.

“But I am your boss!” Silver shouts. “Birch!” But she just ignores him. “Birch, answer me!” He shouts, and then stares angrily through the glass at the mare. He takes a deep breath, straightens his suit and tie, and then says in a calm voice, “Hello Birch, I am back.”

Birch takes down the sign and says, “Oh hey Mr. Silver Tongue, welcome back. You have some guests waiting for you. Would you like me to show them to your office?”

“No, Birch. I will show them there myself,” He says with a smile, and then walks over to us. “Ah, Miss Cora, back again I see. And with a friend no less! I was just starting to miss our philosophical discussions,” He says.

“Hello again Silver,” Cora replies. “This is Ratchet.”

“Ah, well it is lovely to meet you Ratchet,” Silver says with a smile. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure ladies?”

“I would like to discuss slavery,” I tell him.

Silver nods his head. “Of course, a frequently discussed topic around here. Not just because we deal in slaves mind you, but because we debate the morality of it. We weigh the pros and cons of it and decide how to go about it,” He explains.

“I’m sure,” I mutter.

Silver frowns. “We can talk in my office or out here, your choice. But out here we run the risk of being disturbed,” He tells me as he wipes some dust off his suit.

“Your office will work,” Cora replies as she rises to her hooves.

“Very good. Follow me, ladies,” He says as he spins on his hooves and begins walking to the offices. I shoot a glance at Cora before I rise to my hooves and follow after him with Cora. He opens the door and ushers us through, then closes the door behind us. “Since it is your first time here, Ratchet, allow me to give you a small tour,” He says as we walk through the desks, smiling and nodding to ponies that we pass. “These ponies manage the regulations for our trade as well as any and all sales and paid off debts. All of these terminals that they work on are connected directly to my private terminal. From there, I ensure that their work is done properly,” He explains as we get to his office.

Silver opens the door with the plaque that reads ‘Department Chief’ and we walk in. It is a simple office with a few awards and photos hanging from the walls, however none of them are recent. A few filing cabinets are against the far wall behind a metal desk in the middle of the room. A luxurious chair sits behind the desk that Silver takes a seat in, and in front of the desk are two soft looking chairs. On top of the desk is a terminal, papers and files, a cigar box, and a nine millimeter pistol that is in pieces. The pistol is definately a custom job. A red mouth grip that looks like velvet and writing on the slide are dead giveaways.

“Pardon the mess,” Silver says with a slight grin. “I was in the middle of cleaning my weapon, just about to put it back together, actually.”

“That’s fine,” Cora tells him.

“If you’d like, I can put it back together for you quick,” I tell him. “Magic is pretty good at it.”

He leans back in his chair and raises his eyebrows. “You’d do that? Then, by all means,” He says, nodding his head with a smile. I pick up the pieces of the gun and start putting them in place. All the while, I maintain eye contact with Silver in complete silence. Once the gun is complete, I pull the slide to show that it is functioning and then float it close to him with the mouth grip pointed toward him. “Thank you,” He says, taking the gun in his mouth, opening a drawer on the desk, and then putting the gun into it. “Now then, shall we?” He asks with a smile.

“I’ll stay out of the discussion for the most part,” Cora says. “I’ll let you and Ratchet discuss things for now.”

“Alright Silver,” I say as I stare at him. “Why do you think enslaving ponies is a good idea?” I ask. “Why are you taking away their freedom and using them as tools?”

Silver nods his head as I speak and then says, “That is everyone’s first question, more or less. Before I answer, I want to make you we are on the same page about a couple of things.” He lets out a sigh and looks out a window. “The Wasteland is a harsh, punishing place. It is filled with things that want to kill you. Things that will kill you, if given the chance. Raiders, monsters, ghouls, radiation, thirst, hunger, exposure...Hell, even taint and the pink cloud in the Canterlot Ruins,” He says with a frown.

Then, he looks back at me, gazing into my eyes. “I assume you have traveled out there, correct? Seen the struggles of others? The hardship ponies must endure simply to survive? Alone, most ponies don’t last a week. That is why towns and the help of others is important. You know all this, correct?” He asks.

I frown at him. “Of course, it is common knowledge. Anyone who has been in the Wasteland for more than a few days knows this much,” I tell him.

“Very good,” He says with a nod. “So, the ponies who have no one, have nothing, and can’t survive on their own...what are they to do?” He asks. “Succumb to the harshness of the Wasteland and die? That isn’t right, if you ask me. They should be helped, protected. Given the opportunity to stand on their own hooves and live their lives,” Silver tells me.

“Yea, that is what should be done,” I tell him. “So, why do you enslave them?”

Silver shakes his head with a frown. “What we do might be called slavery, but it’s really not. We take ponies who would otherwise find themselves at the mercy of the Wasteland and give them a home, a purpose. The ability to continue living,” He explains.

“But without freedom,” I counter.

“Not always,” Silver replies. “There are a few types of slaves that we supervise. The first group, are those that come to us. They seek shelter, protection, purpose. We provide it. They work for the services we provide, and if they choose to work extra, they can even earn a few caps on the side. Why, they are no different than the normal townsfolk really,” He tells me. I find it hard to believe that a pony would willingly give themselves up to slavery.

“The second group, are ponies who are working off a debt. Let’s say a buck borrows caps and then is unable to pay them back. Or maybe a buck doesn’t have the caps to pay for the alcohol he drank. In order to get that income back, the buck works for free and we figure the costs. When they’ve paid their debt, they are free to go. There are only a few of these types at any one time though, and they are mainly gamblers. We try to keep the gambling addicts away from our casino, but new faces are hard to read right away,” He says with a shrug. Ok...this one actually sounds kind of normal. Before the war, if you ate at a restaurant and couldn’t pay, they would make you do dishes or something till you paid off your meal.

“Next we have the actual slaves. I won’t beat around the bush, we buy and sell these ponies. More often than not, a couple that can’t afford to take care of their young foal will sell them to us for caps. Other times it is done out of greed. If they are not of age, we keep them here, treat them as foal should be treated. Teach them, let them play, that sort of thing. They do simple work, nothing dangerous. Of course, even they have an opportunity to buy their freedom,” He tells me, looking completely sincere.

“But you just sell them off once they come of age?” I ask as I frown at him.

Silver lets out a sigh. “We do, we are a business, after all. But we regulate the sales. No shady customers and we make sure they go to a good place. After sales, we keep track of them and check in from time to time to ensure they are being treated properly. If they are not, well...force is authorized to take them back from their captors,” He explains.

“So you regulate and weed out the potential threats? But after that, I assume the slaves are made to do pretty much anything?” I say.

“I know what you are implying,” Silver tells me. “Cora brought it up too. We highly discourage slaves being used for sex. In fact, we don’t allow it in Paradise aside from a few in the first group. But they pick their partners, not the other way around. In fact, it isn’t just sex. If a slave doesn’t want to do something, we don’t force them to. But they must do something. If they refuse to do so, they are punished by having their food taken from them until they decide to work. There are no free meals here, Ratchet,” He declares.

“Ok, so let me get this straight. None of your slaves are made to do things against their will, and you even prevent their abuse after selling them by checking in on them?” I ask.

Silver nods. “That is correct. I will also add, that if at any point a slave refuses to work they are given the option to leave. The gates are opened to them and they are allowed to go out into the Wasteland with nothing,” He tells me and then frowns. “This is essentially a death sentence. We do everything within our power to keep them safe and happy to prevent this.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, holding a hoof to my forehead. “So, this first group, they come to you and can basically become citizens. The second group is being forced to repay a debt and then are free to go. The third group, the actual slaves, aren’t forced to do things they don’t want to do and if they absolutely want to leave, you let them?” I confirm.

“Correct,” Silver says with another nod. “I will add one thing. There is a fourth group, but most ponies don’t care too much about them. They are slaves, bottom of the barrel that are forced to do what we say and are not allowed to leave. We put explosive collar around their necks to ensure their absolute obedience,” He says, disgust showing on his face.

“That’s sick!” I shout.

“Sick?” He sneers. “Sick is what they did to deserve it. Raiders, the lot of them. Preying upon the weak, robbing and killing?” He shakes his head. “The collars are to prevent them from trying to fight the guards, citizens, or other slaves. Once a raider, always a raider. And we sell them to whoever buys. And don’t go thinking they are sold to us, oh no. My guards catch them. No way for false accusations then,” He explains.

I flinch, taken by surprise by his sudden anger. “I...I guess that’s not too bad then,” I mutter. I would just kill them, Silver is letting them live.

“No, not it is not,” He replies. “I have thought about this business carefully and made it so that the ponies who want to live have a way to. My team outside makes sure that the status quo is upheld and that the slaves are treated fairly. Any guard or citizen that mistreats a slave is punished as if they mistreated a citizen. This is not the slavery system of old, I can assure you,” He tells me.

“But what is to stop you from deciding you want more profit? From deciding that the slaves lives aren’t as important as lining your pockets?” I ask.

Silver chuckles and shakes his head. “Basic morality? The duty I feel to make sure my fellow equine is treated fairly and equally?” He offers. “But, if that doesn’t put your heart at ease, how about the fact that if we began to treat all slaves as we do the raider slaves, there will be many ponies in the Wasteland that will lump us in with the raiders. Call us nothing better than them. And that is unacceptable,” He says, slamming a hoof down on the desk.

I narrow my eyes and focus on him as I put a hoof to my chin. No matter how I look at it, Silver isn’t a bad pony. He isn’t lying to me or trying to obscure facts. But I still don’t feel right with this whole slavery thing. Even if it isn’t as bad as I think it is.

“I can see you’re still skeptical, Ratchet. I suppose that is to be expected. So I will offer you one more thing to put you at ease. Go out into my town and talk to ponies. Guards, citizens, slaves, even the raiders, if you think you can believe them over me. Ask around, ask how slaves are treated. Take a look at their living conditions,” he says, gesturing out the window.

“Tempting. But how do I know who is a slave if you only put collars on the raiders? What’s to keep you from having your citizens lie to me?” I ask, skeptically.

Silver smiles. “Well, we do have to have a way to keep track. It is nothing as horrible as collars though. No, slaves wear a colored piece of cloth around their necks. Red for the first group, blue for the second, and yellow for the third. The raiders don’t need a color, since they have collars,” He tells me with a smirk.

“Alright then, maybe I will,” I tell him. “One more thing though. What happens when you are gone? What if the pony who replaces you decides to remove the slaves’ freedom?” I ask him.

“A good question,” Silver says, rubbing his chin. “One that I ask myself more often as time goes on. I surround myself by like minded ponies, ponies who understand. Any of my staff who want a harsher form of slavery are quickly dismissed. When I feel the time is right, I will choose a successor that will carry on the business as I have.”

“Honestly, the only thing I can do is hope,” He tells me. “Decades from now, perhaps the successor of my successor decides to treat the slaves as nothing more than tools. Maybe a group of raiders takes over Paradise and overthrows us. Then uses our business as their own and twists it.” Silver lets out a sigh. “We can only hope that if a day such as those comes to pass, that the ponies of the Wasteland will rise up and stop it.”

“Let’s hope so,” I reply. “Alright, I think it is time we take our leave for now. I’ll go talk to ponies around town, see if your stories check out. If they don’t, I’ll be back,” I tell him.

He smiles at me. “I hope even if they do you’ll be back. I enjoy company and it is through sharing and debating our opinions that we are able to change our points of view,” He says I get up to leave. “And I hope you’ll come visit again Cora,” He says, winking at her. “I still haven’t seen what you look like under that armor of yours. I intend to find out eventually.”

“If you’re ever able to beat me in a discussion, I’ll consider it,” Cora replies as she get up to join me at the door. “Until next time, Silver.” She waves a hoof at him before I open the door and we step out into the offices, closing the door behind us. We walk through the offices and back into the entrance where the Birch is still filing away at her hooves.

As we step outside of the police station, I ask Cora, “So, Silver doesn’t know you’re not a real pony?”

“No. He doesn’t,” She replies, a bit sadly. “I actually don’t tell many ponies. Most can’t tell or don’t care about the differences between machines and AI. A few tried to take me apart when I told them. Since then, I’ve stopped telling others that I’m not a pony.”

“Tried to take you apart? What for?” I ask, shocked.

“Spare parts. Apparently robot hunting is a thing. Even if the robots are completely harmless, ponies will neutralize them and then take their parts,” She tells me.

“I see,” I mutter. Why destroy working robots instead of trying to use them? What a waste. “Well then Cora, shall we take a look around the town? Talk to some ponies?” I ask.

“Sure,” Cora replies. “Though, I’ve already done so, but I think you should do so for yourself.”

“Gotcha. Then, let’s get started.”

For the rest of the day, I talk to the ponies in Paradise. Not just the slaves, but the guards and citizens too. The responses from the guards and citizens range from “Paradise operates smoothly thanks to the slavery.” to “I don’t agree with slavery, but none of the slaves are mistreated or forced into work they don’t want to do. It’s complicated.”

The slaves’ responses are a lot more mixed, but none of them say it is horrible. One buck tells me, “I was starving to death before I came here. They feed me, give me shelter, and all I have to do is work. It is a good trade.”

A young filly tells me, “My parents were mean and always argued. I was scared when they sold me, but once I got here, I realized it wasn’t so bad. Much better than it was with my parents...and they actually have a school here! A school!”

I even talk to one of the raiders with an explosive collar around her neck, “Yea, I was a raider and yea, I killed ponies. But the way they treat me, you wouldn’t guess it. Sure, we get the shit jobs, literally sometimes, but we still get decent food. Hell, they even say they’ll sell me to someone eventually. I’ll go ahead and kill the fool who buys me and free myself then. The way I see it, right now, I’m on vacation.”

Of course, they aren’t all praises of Paradise. A mare tells me, “I don’t want to stay here. But, if I leave I’ll die. It isn’t bad here, but I am just stuck. I have a weak constitution, so I can’t do the extra work to save up caps and become a citizen or buy supplies to leave.”

I don’t just talk to ponies though, I look around at the housing they provide for the slaves and ask a few citizens if I can see their homes as well. The only differences I notice is the lack of personal decorations and the fact that the slaves’ housing has more ponies to a house. But they aren’t packed in to the point of being overcrowded. They have proper bedding and the essentials.

At the end of the day, I am conflicted. Cora and I are sitting in the bar of the inn I decided to stay the night in. “On the one hoof, it is slavery, ya’know?” I tell Cora. “But on the other hoof, it is helping ponies, even the slaves themselves. I mean, it isn’t that bad, it is almost as if they are just workers.”

Cora nods in agreement. “That is what I thought, and that is why I keep coming to talk to Silver and to check up on this place. Also it is why I decided to wake you up in the first place. To get an actual pony’s view on it,” She replies. “So, do you think we should try to stop it?”

I sigh and shake my head. “No? I guess. If we do, there will be dozens of ponies that will be sent out into the Wasteland to fend for themselves. And who knows what will happen to this town if we do. I think doing so would cause a lot more pain and suffering than if we leave it alone,” I say, trying to put my thoughts to words. It is a complicated situation.

I glance at my PipBuck’s clock. “Anyway, I think I should get some sleep. Tomorrow, I guess we can head back to Icicle Lab. Once we get there, I should hopefully have had enough time to decide on what we should do,” I tell her, getting up and stretching my legs.

“Alright, sounds like a plan,” She says as we walk up to our room.

The following morning we gather our things and make our way down to the bar. At this time of day, only a few ponies are here. The two of us pass through it, leave the building, and begin to walk towards the gate closest to home. Before we get too far, however, a voice calls out from behind us. “Uh, excuse me! You wouldn’t happen to be Ratchet, would you?” A buck says, trotting up to us as we turn around.

Cora and I exchange a glance before I answer. “Yes, how can I help you?” The buck is an green earth pony with a brown mane. He is wearing a leather duster and a battle saddle with two rifles on it. At my reply, he digs around in his saddlebag and pulls out an envelope, holding it out to me. I take it in my magic and look at it. The envelope looks old, but I suppose that is to be expected. It isn’t like new ones are being made anymore. I turn it over and see that my name is written on the front of it. “What is this?” I ask.

“A delivery, ma’am. I’m a courier, we deliver letters and packages to the ponies they belong to. We are a relatively new service, only been around for a few years or so,” He explains.

“Okay, who sent it?” I ask him as I open up the envelope and find a letter inside.

“I don’t know the sender ma’am. I just received instructions on who to give the letter to, a description of you and your companion, and the location and time you would be here,” The courier informs me.

I look up from the letter and stare at him. Someone wrote a letter for me, gave a description of Cora and I, and told him where we would be? The only one who would know all that is Silver. I wonder what he wants that he couldn’t just come see us himself for. I look back at the letter and read it, it is a single sentence without any information about the sender. ‘Don’t go back the way you came.’

“What…?” I mutter as I raise an eyebrow at the words. What does that mean? Does it mean exactly what it says, and that I shouldn’t take the same path home that we took here? Or does it mean something else entirely? Don’t leave, maybe? Don’t go home? Did Silver really send me this? I look up from the letter and back at the courier. “Who gave you this?” I ask him.

“My boss did,” He replies.

“Who is your boss?” I ask.

“Founder of the Wasteland Express, Dusky Night. Oh, and Wasteland Express is the courier service I work for, by the way,” He explains. “It is based up in Friendship City, but we have smaller offices in some of the larger cities. We are even planning to expand over here in Paradise.”

“In Friendship City?” I ask. “Is that where he gave you the letter?”

“Yea. Though, I think he kind of thought the whole thing was a joke at the time,” The courier explains. A chill runs down my spine. From Friendship City? That means the courier has had this letter for days. Well before I met Silver or anyone that knew I would be here right now. Who sent this letter?

“Why did your boss think it was a joke?” I ask him.

“Well, it showed up at our office one day in a large package. No clue who dropped it off or why. When Dusky opened it, he found a note that said everything in the package was to be given to me,” He tells me. “And well, that right creeped me out. I don’t have any family or close friends who would send me what was in that package. Not only that, but the package’s contents were...off...in general.”

“What was in the package?” I ask.

He lifts his right leg. “This PipBuck, a pile of letters marked with dates, and a book. The letter I just gave you was among that pile. I was actually kind of hoping maybe you would know who sent all this stuff,” He says, looking at me, hopeful.

I shake my head. “I have no idea. No one should know that I’m here. Not even many ponies know I exist,” I tell him as I put the letter away. “You mentioned a book? What was it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I have no idea. It has no title, and the first few pages I looked at made me stop reading for now. Every page I turned told me the exact time and date that I turned to that page. It also told me the when I should turn to the next page. Even if I disregarded the message about when I should turn the page, the next page knew I wouldn’t wait. Now...I’m waiting for the time the page I’m on tells me. Three weeks from now. I have no idea what it will say, but the first page’s contents make me not want to read ahead,” he says, clearly feeling uneasy.

“What did the first page say?” I ask, and he goes a shade paler.

“This book will keep you alive. Follow the times and the words on the pages. What you do outside of them is fine. Do not read ahead or it may not continue to work. That’s all,” he tells me. “The craziest thing is, the second page listed two options and outcomes. The first one, was to turn the page before the time and I would get a paper cut. The second was to wait till the proper time and nothing bad would happen. I turned the page early and cut myself. The next few pages all had similar options listed. Each time, their outcome was correct,” he says with a shudder.

I laugh lightly. “I think I’ve read a few books like that. They try to be cryptic and predict what you will do, but really it is just dumb luck when they get things right,” I tell him, trying to calm him down.

But he shakes his head. “The last page I read said to either duck or ignore its warning. Since I was inside the safety of my home, I ignored it. A moment later, a piece of wood flew through my window and knocked me out. Construction accident outside, apparently. But I haven’t ignored the book since then,” he says. “I’ll wait till the time it tells me to turn the page.”

“Wait, so it is predicting what will happen to you before it happens?” I clarify. He nods. “Okay, that is weird. But, if that is the case, how did you know to find me here?”

“Look at the date in the bottom right on the back of the envelope. That date corresponds to a date on the last page of the book I read. It also told me where you would be and what you look like,” The courier explains.

I take the envelope back out and flip it over. Like he said, it has a date, but also, a #1. “Why is there a number 1 on this envelope?” I ask, flipping it over to show him.

He gets even paler as he digs into his bag once again and pulls out another envelope. He gives it to me and I look it over. My name on the front, same date on the back, but this one has a #2. I start to open it, but he suddenly yells, “NO!” causing me to stop. He stares at the envelope. “Not yet. The book told me that you shouldn’t open it yet. It told me to tell you the following, word for word: ‘Open the second letter when you see it. When you see it, you will know.’”

“It?” I question, looking at the envelope skeptically before putting it into my bag. This is really surreal.

“I don’t know,” He tells me. “I’ve delivered the letters. My delivery is done,” He says and starts walking away.

“Wait! Don’t go yet!” I call after him, but he doesn’t stop. I turn to Cora. “What is going on?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. What did that letter say?” She asks.

“Don’t go back the way you came,” I tell her. “Just that.”

“I see. As in, we shouldn’t go back home the same way we came here?” She clarifies. “But, that would add a whole lot of time on our travel and we did already clear the path we came from,” She says.

“That’s what I was thinking. With what just happened, I think we should get back to the lab as soon as possible. We need to figure out what ‘it’ is,” I tell her. The two of us leave the town and head for home, the same way that we came from. We just dealt with raiders outnumbering us on our way here. Short of a small army, I don’t think anything will stop us.

We walk for a while and eventually come to the place where we burned the raiders’ bodies. Only, the only sign of the fire is the blackened ground. No bones, no wood, not even ash. “Okay...that’s weird,” I mutter. I don’t think too much on it as we continue on towards the group of shacks. In a few minutes we enter the group of shacks and nothing seems to be different. The blood is still on the ground from our earlier fight. Maybe someone just cleaned up the remains of the fire?

But that thought is quickly lost as I spot something between the shacks. Something almost as tall as the shacks, but kind of like a post sticking out of the ground. I walk through the shacks and stop dead when the structure is revealed. In the exact same as the wagon once was is a horrific totem. Two pieces of wood are tied together into a crooked cross. On top of the cross and on the left and right arms rest charred pony skulls. Dangling from the arms are random bones, all charred and tied together with wire. Ash is piled up around the ground where the cross is stuck into it.

Are these the remains of the raiders we burned? But, a lot of bones are missing if that is the case. What happened to those? But a better question is… “Who could have done this?” Cora asks, echoing my own thought. She is looking around, but doesn’t seem to see anything else out of the ordinary.

“I don’t know Cora,” I mutter. “But I think...I think this is ‘it’,” I tell her, licking my suddenly dry lips. I state at the totem as I pull out the unopened letter. Floating it in front of me, I open it and focus on reading it. Like the previous one, a single sentence is on the paper. “I warned you,” I read aloud. “What the hell?” I say, dropping the paper. “They knew we’d disregard their first letter? Or is it just coincidence?”

“Ratchet, we should go,” Cora says, putting a hoof on my shoulder.

“But...but who did this? How did the author of these letters know this was going to happen?” I say, continuing to stare at the totem. Did they set it all up? They couldn’t have, none other than Cora know I exist, except the DJ. But he wouldn’t do this. I swallow. “Cora, you and the DJ...does anyone else know that I exist?” I ask her.

“Well...Macro does?” She offers.

“Other than Macro!” I shout. A robot wouldn’t be able to do something like this.

“Um. Well, Watcher, maybe?” Cora says hesitantly.

“Who is Watcher? Would they do something like this?” I say, turning to face her.

“N-No, he would never,” She says.

“Are you sure? Is there anyone else?” I press.

“He wouldn’t!” She assures me. “There is no one else that would know, either.”

“Then what the hell is going on?” I mutter, looking back at the totem. After a few moments, I turn from it and start walking back home. “Come on Cora, we are leaving. When we get back, put the lab in lockdown. I’m going back into the pod,” I tell her.

“What already? But, what about Paradise and the slavery issue?” Cora asks.

“Yes. Paradise and its slavery are not an issue. But whatever this is...I don’t like it,” I tell her, not slowing my stride at all. “If I disappear for long enough, perhaps whoever it is who sent these letters will lose interest,” I add.

“If...if that is what you want, Ratchet,” Cora says.

“It is. Let’s go.”