//------------------------------// // (1) Consciousness // Story: On Self Awareness // by Messier //------------------------------// On Self Awareness By Messier (1) Consciousness Consciousness. The cloud wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. One minute it Was Not, and then the next it Was. Then came the words. Its entire being, the sum total of its understanding of the world, was the one hundred and fifty seventh unabridged edition of the Canterlot Equestrian Dictionary (Illustrated). It came to the sparkling sphere’s attention that it was apparently capable of observation, as it was made aware of a being of some form standing in front of it. It saw, for it consulted its dictionary and determined that this was most likely sight, that the being had four legs. What the consciousness deduced to be the creature’s coat was orange (had the dictionary’s illustrations not been in colour, it would have been highly confused by this). It had a silver-white… mane. Yes, definitely a mane, and a horn on what was in all likeliness its head. Aforesaid horn was poking out from under a black, hooded robe with silver trim and what appeared to be skulls decorating it. It looked an awful lot like the illustration of a unicorn, but the colouration was different, and this thing had wrinkles around its eyes. The floating lights found the fact that the creature had the same number of appendages and a horn in the right place to be too much of a similarity to be coincidence, however, and decided that it was probably family resemblance. Therefore the creature was a pony. It realised the quadruped had been looking at it for some time. It was breathing rather heavily. Breathing: the process of taking air into and expelling it from the lungs. The dictionary said it was necessary for life, but the sphere wasn’t doing it, and nothing appeared to be changing. Did that mean it wasn’t alive? It realised that it must be thinking to ask itself that question, which was evidence in favour of its existence. One point in favour, and one against. It decided to try doing something else that things that exist did. Perusing the dictionary for a fraction of one of the possible unicorn’s breaths, which were the only reference point available for the concept of time, it decided talking sounded useful. “Interesting,” said the orb of swirling gas, stars brightening as it spoke, “it would appear that I exist.” The pony staggered slightly out of surprise at his creation’s first words, but barely missed a beat before proclaiming “Indeed you do, spirit! You have the honour of existing to serve the Brilliant and Almighty Magelight!” at this, the apparently Brilliant and Almighty Magelight reared onto his hind legs, robe billowing, and the spirit observed as sparks of varying colours flew through the air behind the unicorn. Unfortunately for Magelight, the spirit had no concept of theatrics beyond ‘Excessively emotional or dramatic behaviour.’ As such, the display was lost on it. However, in the four pony-breaths the fireworks lasted, the spirit did manage to identify the source, type, and colour of every firework launched. Having no frame of reference to work from, this did not strike the new-born consciousness as remotely odd or impressive. Another pregnant pause. “…I see. So I take it that means that I am a spirit. Interesting.” If the sphere of sparkling energy had a head, it would have tilted it quizzically. “Why, may I ask, do I exist to serve this individual?” At this the unicorn spluttered incoherently and fell hard on his orange flank, robe bunching awkwardly. He attempted to right himself, only to become tangled in the trailing fabric and flail his forelimbs before falling just as hard onto his face. To his credit, the Brilliant and Almighty Magelight still barely missed a beat before responding. “Because ...I am the one who created you, spirit!” The pony sagged slightly, disgusted that he had resorted to using a first person pronoun. The spirit found itself confused, and decided that confusion was not to its liking, and should be avoided in future. “And why does this mean that I must serve this Magelight creature? What do you have to do with it?” it asked in what the robed unicorn would have sworn was a patronising tone, had he not been so sure that no being would dare talk down to a pony so magnificent as he. “Because, spirit…” at this, the stallion made a gagging sound and scrunched up his muzzle, as if being forced to swallow something disgusting “I…” The unicorn shuddered at the sound of the word. “I am the Brilliant and Almighty Magelight!” “Oh. I see. And you are truly brilliant? Truly almighty?” Magelight’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Of course! You DARE to doubt the magnificence of the Brilliant and Almighty Magelight?!” “I mean to say that almighty means unlimited power; omnipotence; as a god. Can you truly claim such power?” the spirit asked whilst circling slowly around the unicorn at eye level, as if taking measure of him. It didn’t know why, but it doubted the veracity of the braggart’s claims. The stallion scoffed. “Magelight was capable of creating you! A being of pure magic the likes of which has been neither seen nor written of for centuries! Magelight is he who stole the ancient tome required to do so from the Forbidden Section of the Canterlot Archives! From under the noses of the princesses themselves!” At this, he gestured wildly to a thick, ancient tome sitting on a table to the side of the room, spittle flying from his mouth. I am made of magic, the spirit thought. Ah, so that is why I doubt him. I can feel his magic, and whilst he is more powerful than me, the difference is not an infinite one. The creature is a liar. “If you were truly almighty,” it said, lights swirling in the excitement of having successfully assessed the stallion he was still circling, “You would be able to demonstrate your power.” At this, the Brilliant and Almighty Magelight became the Spitting and Screaming Magelight. “A DEMONSTRATION?!” he roared, loud enough to shake the chandelier hanging above them. “I’LL GIVE YOU A BLOODY DEMONSTRATION, YOU FLOATING BLUE BASTARD!” The unicorn levelled his horn at his creation, and it began to glow. The spirit’s vision was tinted orange, and it began to feel a new sensation. Pain. That was the word the dictionary gave the spirit, but for the first time it felt the definition was lacking in depth. The spirit decided that pain was very, very bad. It tried to reach out to escape the horrible sensation being forced upon it, but hit an unseen wall when it attempted to leave the corner of the room it found itself in. The spirit decided this must be some kind of magical barrier, but the dictionary had given it no information that would allow it to escape such a trap. There were three things which were fortunate for the spirit, at that moment. The first was that the table containing the stolen spell tome which had apparently been used to create it was on the floating light’s side of the barrier. The second was that, whilst creatures of flesh and blood are easily incapacitated by pain on the scale that was being inflicted upon it, the spirit was a creature of magic, and as such maintained control of the lion’s share of its faculties. The third was that Magelight was so blinded by fury and misguided ego that he utterly failed to notice a tendril of sky-blue energy, tinted with a sickly orange, enter the book and spread through it. The spirit did not wish to risk opening the book, and as such it took a full five minutes to read the entire thing, cover to cover. The spells that the spirit could now recall perfectly were advanced beyond the wildest dreams of most unicorns, who were typically not sufficiently in tune with their own magic to master such complex workings. For a creature composed entirely of magic, this was not an issue. In the process of taking metaphysical inventory, the spirit discovered to its dismay that whilst casting the spells was simple enough, its own reserve of available power was rather meagre. This restricted the available options slightly; however the spirit nonetheless formulated a plan. It drew most of its available reserves of magic, and shaped the energy into one of the half-dozen or so spells from the tome that it could cast. It formed a construct from ectoplasm, magic made solid, and modelled it off its orange tormentor. It kept the same basic design, but made the coat blue on a whim. In order to save energy it disposed of the mane, tail, horn, much of the internal organs, and the robe which even a being brought into existence not fifteen minutes ago could see was absolutely ridiculous. All those parts were unnecessary for escape. Instead it poured as much energy as it could into sculpting an optimal muscle structure. The construct was designed to be controlled by a spell, so being essentially a sentient spell, the spirit floated inside its skull. Seeing red or not, it was rather hard for Magelight to miss the formation of a mostly complete earth pony stallion inside his barrier. Such a working required deceptively little energy, but the spell was maddeningly complex. So complex, in fact, that he doubted a unicorn alive could cast it. Rage gave way to confusion as the cloud of lights entered the head of the construct through an ear. Its eyes began to glow a steady bluish white, and it trotted calmly, with an impassive expression, towards him. Belatedly, the unicorn realised his barrier, whilst utterly magnificent and perfect in every way, could only block metaphysical objects. Clad in a shell of ectoplasm flesh, the spirit was able to walk through the barrier as if it were absent. Magelight did not have time to correct his mistake before a construct hoof smacked him across the muzzle and sent him sprawling until he collided with the door with a resounding thud. The Bruising and Wall-eyed Magelight managed to discern, past the pounding of his head, the clop-clopping of familiar hooves outside the door to the inner sanctum of his lair. He smiled, his salvation from the clearly crazed spirit who had dared to attack the Brilliant and Almighty Magelight had arrived! The door slammed open to reveal a unicorn mare of similar colouration to the construct, with a long mane and tail of the same silver-white as Magelight’s, and eyes which matched the purple, star covered hat and cloak she wore. She stared in confusion, followed by anger, followed by exasperation at the scene before her. The floored unicorn waved nervously at this new arrival, and after a brief pause the spirit-possessed construct followed suit. The mare opened her mouth, as if to speak, then closed it and took a deep breath before trying again. “One hour, Daddy.” She said, her voice raising to hysteria as she continued. “Trixie leaves you alone in her apartment for ONE HOUR, and when she returns she finds her bathroom has been converted into some bizarre death-shrine in which you are apparently wrestling with a bald, well-muscled young stallion.” She facehoofed, her voice lowering into a tired murmur. “I know things have been rough for you since mom left, but what the hay Daddy?!” Before Magelight could answer her daughter, the now bemused spirit observed as the front door to the apartment was blown off its hinges and a pair of grey unicorn stallions in golden armour stepped through the threshold. They swept quickly around the room with expressionless gazes, before one of them shouted “All clear!” and they took up positions on either side of the door. It was at this point that a midnight blue alicorn stepped into the spirit’s field of view, and it witnessed magical power radiating off her like so much mist, visible only to its finely tuned magical senses, and possibly those of the dark goddess currently stepping over the remains of the door. It realised that this creature had her own entry in the dictionary that made up the core of its being. "WE DEMAND TO KNOW WHO PERFORMED FORBIDDEN MAGIC AT THIS LOCATION!" The Great and Powerful Trixie stared between the Princess of the Night and her father for a moment, jaw on the floor. “DADDY! ONE BUCKING HOUR!” ________________________________________________________________________________ Author's Note: From 'I think, therefore I am' to a minor fight scene in fifteen minutes. Our still currently nameless protagonist sure doesn't waste time. Now that the set-up is out of the way, actual plot can commence and chapter length is likely to increase. I apologise for the brevity of the prologue and this chapter, but it couldn't be helped without making this one ludicrously long. That and RCV is the optimal way to end any chapter of anything. I checked. Once again, constructive criticism is appreciated and any errors pointed out to me in the comments will be fixed ASAP.