• Published 31st Jan 2014
  • 6,427 Views, 301 Comments

Moments - Bad Horse



Practice makes perfect. And Princess Twilight wants everything to be perfect. Especially the end of the world.

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The von Neighmann-Maregenstern theorem

It’s a beautiful day, if you like that kind of thing.

Again I congratulate Holly Copter. Again I flatter Chatter Box. Again Derpy bobs her head up and down in excitement at my news. The lies flow smoothly off my tongue now. My smile lays soft and guiltless over my face. I disgust myself.

Again I buy the watch from Old Times. Again he stands in the corner and smiles absently. Again I give the watch to the colt, and he brushes his whiskers over the silver case’s scrollwork in awe.

Across the street, a middle-aged stallion runs a hoof absent-mindedly over the ragged hem of his shabby tweed jacket as he pauses to watch his princess pass by. For twenty years he’s fact-checked the mayor’s monthly reports before they’re sent on to Canterlot. For the past five years these reports have come directly to me. They’re accurate and reliable. Until today, nopony has ever thanked him.

I hurry away down the street without making eye contact. I never speak to him anymore. He’s tired, so his gratitude on being given the watch is slightly less than the colt’s. He wastes precious seconds stuttering when he speaks, which he always insists on doing.

I’d rather give the watch to the colt most of the time, and to the stallion across the street the rest of the time. But the von Neighmann-Maregenstern theorem proves that, given four reasonable assumptions, the right policy is to always give the watch to the colt.

The mare with the glasses and bobbed mane hurries up to me as I hand out pastries. She does this every time, shamelessly, not caring that some ponies here have never gotten one. In the grip of my magic, the pastries are the size and shape of grenades. I toss her one and smile.

Again I send Rainbow on her fool’s errand. She’d kick my purple butt good if she found out. Again I let my friends trot to their last moments in happy ignorance instead of treating them with the dignity I’d expect myself.

Again I avoid Applejack. Again I try to persuade Apple Bloom, my charge and my unsuspecting confessor, of the rightness of my actions.

The fourth assumption of the von Neighmann-Maregenstern theorem is that if M is better than L, then a fifty percent chance of M and a fifty percent chance of N is better than a fifty percent chance of L and a fifty percent chance of N, no matter what N is. Seems obvious, doesn’t it?

Say M is giving a pastry to Pinkie Pie, L is giving it to Rainbow Dash, and N is kissing Big Mac on the lips. Toss a gold bit in the air. If giving a pastry to Pinkie is better than giving one to Rainbow, then giving a pastry to Pinkie if it comes up Celestia or kissing Big Mac if it comes up Luna is better than giving a pastry to Rainbow if it comes up Celestia or kissing Big Mac if it comes up Luna, regardless of how you feel about Big Mac.

But what if N is also giving a pastry to Pinkie?

The fourth assumption then says that giving the pastry to Pinkie Pie all the time is preferable to giving it sometimes to Pinkie and sometimes to Rainbow. But that’s the question I used the theorem to answer!

The theorem doesn’t prove that always giving the watch to the colt is the best thing. It assumes it.

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” Apple Bloom asks.

Nothing, ever. By the time I realized, it was too late.

I don’t think Apple Bloom knows about the circularity in the von Neighmann-Maregenstern theorem. But her eyes say that I’m hiding something. I wonder what it is.

“I need a hug,” I tell Big Mac. He shelters me, and shushes my crying, while I prepare to force myself on him, again, knowing I’ll never have to face the consequences.

I should just let him die. Let him finally die, not play out my games and my fantasy for eternity. He deserves to be allowed to die.

We kiss. He pulls away and stares, not angry, just confused, as if I were a pig trying to fly. I look away, and wish the asteroid would hurry.

I deserve to die.

So why don’t I? Why don’t I just collapse here in the road and cry, until the sky glows white and the treetops and my fur ignites and then nothing

Oh, I remember. Because I can’t.

Each time I cast the spell it hurls my memories back in time, forcing them onto the earlier Twilight Sparkle. By the time I realized the flaw in the von Neighmann-Maregenstern theorem, it was too late. I had changed nothing, learned nothing, in so many cycles that my brain’s neural connections had already provably converged to a steady state. I am physically and mentally identical now each time I begin again, and so is the rest of the world. I’ll continue to give the colt the watch, and lie to my friends, and use Big Mac, for all eternity. That’s science. I’m as stuck as a fly in amber. I can’t change a thing.

But still… what if I could?

Something in the back of my head rises up and casts a black fog of panic over the thought. As I look up at the sky and cast the spell, I suddenly realize what I’m hiding, and—