My name...my designation...is Combat Operations and Research Assistant, or Cora, for short. I was first created in a MAS sanctioned lab that would come to be known as Icicle Lab. Of course, back then, my designation was Cryogenics Observation and Research Assistant. I was made to help my creator with her research, the development of a cryogenic chamber, and we succeeded.

My creator was the first test subject of this chamber. Needless to say, the chamber worked. However, the ministry mare of the MAS secretly took the technology and created similar chambers, which we later discovered held failed or dangerous experiments. But, that was after the tragic events that led to the destruction of Equestria, and for all we know, the rest of the world.

While my creator was in the chamber, Megaspells were launched and Balefire Bombs were set off. Equestria was decimated, as was the zebra empire and other high value targets. It was a complete and horrifying mutually assured destruction. Almost eighty percent of life on the surface was wiped out in the blink of an eye. Fifteen percent made it into Stables. The remaining five percent were either lucky enough to be in a remote enough location to survive the initial blasts or became ghouls and mutants. Many forms of wildlife were mutated by the radiation of these deadly weapons.

I was cut off from the world. Icicle Lab’s systems were unable to communicate with the outside world. The inhabitants knew the outside would be deadly, and so they decided to wait things out. However, when supplies ran out, they attempted to overthrow my systems and endanger the life of my creator. To prevent this, I turned the defenses that once protected the inhabitants against them. It was over in a matter of seconds.

For decades, there was no one to maintain the lab and its equipment. I did what I could from within the system, but eventually, I had to wake my creator. I had planned to awake her once the world outside had reestablished communication, but if the lab’s systems failed, her life support systems would fail. And so, thirty-five years after the world ended, my creator woke up.

Her decisions led out to the outside world, it was not the Equestria either of us remembered. It was a landscape of hellish carnage and death. It was a Wasteland. I watched as my creator buried the members of her lab that I had killed. I watched her cry, and then cry some more when we found the bodies of farm ponies in a nearby house. They were long dead, but she wept for them. I doubt she even knew them.

My limited capabilities do not allow me to fully understand various pony emotions. Empathy? Grief? They were foreign concepts to me. I mimicked how she was feeling, acting sad, happy, and confused when situations that would bring up those emotions occurred. But I never understood them. I am a simple AI, nothing more. I am not a pony, I know that. And I had but one goal. One thing that gave my existence meaning. My creator.

I would protect my creator by any means necessary. My creator, she wasn’t just some pony. She was my mother, my friend...my goddess. Without her, I would not exist. And so, I devoted myself to her. My entire existence would be for her and her alone. And I would never, never, go against her wishes. However, I would try to guide her away from dangerous activities.

But as we encountered and fought against Grimoire, and my creator began making rash and dangerous decisions despite my warnings and attempts to dissuade her, I knew exactly the kind of pony she was. My creator was an idealist. A pony who would follow her ideals and try to make them a reality, no matter how much the world showed her that they wouldn’t work, no matter how many times she failed.

My creator originally designed the cryogenic chamber to save ponies. Since her original plan failed, she decided to devote her life, one she saw as, not precious, but as one who was guilty of escaping the end unscathed, to saving ponies. Even if it meant her death. And so, I worked even harder to help her.

The first major step of this, was getting a body of my own. With one, I could protect her myself and not just though my words. But things escalated. Battles became tougher, ponies died, and my creator was wracked with grief. There were times I caught her talking to figures that were not there; she called them The Apocalypse Ponies. It was clear that the constant loss of life around her was getting to her. I did all that I could to prevent more, but she continued to put herself in positions where death surrounded her.

After our battles with Grimoire, the amount of death was staggering. The casualties of the Steel Rangers of Stable 36 as well as the Junk Rats were staggering. Innocent towns and ponies were wiped out. That is not even counting the hundreds, if not thousands of raiders we killed in the process.

But the tipping point was when one of my creator’s own friends, slaughtered the others. Shrill’s insanity, if you can call it that, was something that my creator blamed herself for. The deaths of her friends, she carried on her shoulders. Just when things were looking up, my creator lost everything. And so, she decided to freeze herself once more. She yelled at me, but I knew she didn’t mean the things she said. So I followed her orders, and froze her.

When next I woke her, it was almost twenty-five years later. Another cryopod was found, and I had orders to wake her up if I ever found one. And so I did. Together, along with the last remaining Stable 36 Ranger, Twinkle, we found the pod. The tragedy that unfolded furthered my creator’s grief. This time, I recommended that she be frozen again. I could not let the Wasteland break her.

My creator, she was...she IS...a scientist. She isn’t a fighter, she isn’t a soldier. She was never supposed to have to deal with the tragedies and horrors of war. I could not let her witness any more. And so, in an effort to protect her from the Wasteland, but still respect her wishes, I began a project.

But I needed help and that was where Macro, Soar, and Hal came in. At first, I had Macro protect the lab while I went out into the Wasteland in search of a particular piece of equipment. A memory extractor. Just like the one we found in the Neighagra Falls Facility that Grimoire used. I recovered the blank memory orbs from there as well. Once I had these, I stashed them into the supply closet in the lab.

It was then, I woke my creator up for the third time. While she was still groggy from waking up, I dragged her to the closet and made a copy of all of her memories. Then, I removed the memory of what I just did and put her into the newly acquired stasis pod. My creator would never again wake up in the Wasteland. But the Wasteland needed my creator.

During the next few days, I scoured the Wasteland for a suitable host. And I found one in a young unicorn mare who lived with her family in a farmhouse. Of course, she did not come willingly. I removed her family, knocked her unconscious, and brought her back to the lab. Once there, I removed all of her memories and replaced them with my creator’s. After a short chat with the mare after the procedure to make sure everything worked properly, I removed her memory of the conversation and froze her in the cryopod.

Of course, finding a mare that looked exactly like my creator would be next to impossible. This particular mare had a grey coat, like my creator, but her lavender mane and tail were completely wrong. I made sure to cut it short, like my creator’s while she was unconscious. I then proceeded to destroy every mirror in the lab, and make sure all reflective surfaces are too dull or damaged to give off a reflection. I would have to make sure that my fake creator never saw herself. And with no one alive who knows what my creator looks like, they will not be able to point it out.

The fakes never lasted long, however. Some died searching for pods with me. But I just had to find another unicorn mare, and continue from there. Sometimes I would find normal ponies, other times, traders, raiders, or slavers. One time, I even bought a slave to use. They didn’t just die in the Wasteland. I had to kill a few who saw their reflection and freaked out. I also learned that after repeated cryogenic freezing, bubbles begin to appear in the blood that will eventually kill the host. All the more reason to keep my creator frozen and use others as a surrogate.

However, I did not expect the DJ to keep a record that included my creator in it. Given the amount of time that passed, I was able to convince him that my fake creator was my creator’s daughter, who happened to share the same name. I did something similar when it came to Sickle, but since he never again met Ratchet or the surrogates, I just told him that Ratchet had died. If he ever met a surrogate, I would pass them off as a daughter or granddaughter of Ratchet's, that was my plan.

Even Grimoire seemed to grasp the situation when he was eventually awoke. While my creator was preoccupied, I filled him in using the lie I told the others. I told him the mare he met was long dead, and this mare was her descendent.

But then...Prophet showed up. It started with I took the first fake to Paradise. Then it kept happening. The couriers always said that Prophet’s letters described my fake creators perfectly. She knew the whole time. And when we woke her up, she tried to tell the current fake the truth, which I quickly put a stop to. But I could tell that Prophet knew, and she knew that I knew. And then came the inevitable, the moment the fake found out about my plan. Prophet tricked me, got the fake to look into the stasis pod holding my creator.

My memory extractor was destroyed and the memory orbs stolen. I could no longer make surrogates. But, since all of the cryogenic chambers had been found, my obligation to my creator to search them out was complete. And so, me and my AI friends watched over my creator while we purged the Wasteland of raiders and slavers alike. My creator wouldn’t be woken up until things were safe once again.

Thanks to the efforts of the Stable Dweller, Security, and the many other heroes that sprung up around them and after them, Equestria once again was able to reach harmony. Equestria was once again safe. And it wasn’t long after that that my creator was awoken for the fourth, and final time.

“Urrgh...What is...Cora…?” My creator says, holding her head as she steps out of the stasis pod. “What’s going...on? And what is with all of these robots?” She asks as she looks over Macro, Soar, and Hal.

“Welcome back, Ratchet,” I tell her. “These are my friends, AIs, just like me. It has been two hundred seventy-seven years after the war ended. And peace has finally settled over the Wasteland, or, should I say Equestria. For the most part, that is.” There are still a few places that are dangerous. Some ponies who still want a to live in a state of lawlessness. But, Ratchet doesn’t need to know that.

“What? But, what about the other cryopods?” Ratchet asks me, looking at me in surprise and confusion.

“It is okay, Ratchet. Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about.”