Motionless

by Amit

Geimverusagan

I am perfectly still.

One of my students, some time in the past, might have argued that relativity would render that statement meaningless; she was, of course, stuck in her then-primitive books far too deep to realise that relativity went the way of the phlogiston around the time there ceased to be mundane matter.

Past tense even then, of course, very certain, very concrete.

Abstract for them, certainly, and perhaps even once for me.

I hum to myself in the vacuum, glancing a bit at my star to ensure that I’m not actually rotating without knowing it; there would still be the dust of the little world I once held dominion over, of course, to interrupt my poetically motionless state, but that’s inconsequential enough that I can easily put it at the back of my mind.

After all, there’s not really any peer-review authorities left to challenge my thesis.

I suppose I should lapse into madness now. It would seem awfully appropriate, and I have no responsibilities that my incapacitation would vacate. My sun is still alive, certainly, as beautifully radiant as it was when I first came to it, and it will remain alive until—

Well, I was going to say ‘until the stars waste away’ and that would be very poetic, but I suppose we’d then have to speak in past tense and it would furthermore be somewhat of a lie. Takes some of the impact away, wouldn’t you say?

That rhymed; I’d suggest reading it out loud, if anyone reading my thoughts in another dimension, or in a laboratory containing my brain in a jar, could be so kind to. I’ve recently taken to writing poems in my head and forgetting them; along with trying to think like a Trottinghamian, this has been my most successful endeavour.

Right, I suppose I must sound rather bitter about now. The decay of molecular matter did quite a number on the temperament. If anyone’s hearing or reading this, I’m assuming my brain-in-a-jar theory is correct; I’m sure you’ve gathered a great deal of data by now, so would you terribly mind bringing me out of this hole?

I’ll wait for your answer.

—

I suppose they do terribly mind.

—

I wish I could eat cake again. Not that brioche stuff, mind you; I’ve still not quite recovered—of course I am, but let me have my little bits of hyperbole as I sit motionless for eternity—from the last time I suggested that my subjects eat it, and I suppose that a monarch must always represent her people.

That certainly doesn’t explain why I’ve not yet become a pile of subatomic dust, but whatever.

Back to the topic: I would most certainly like some cake. I would detail the specifics of cake, but I can’t quite remember which of the fruits that evolved over the last few billion years of my former planet would go well on it.

I remember liking the post-cherries. They made an admirably loud scream when you bit down on them.

I really want cake.

—

I take a bite of cake.

—

Well, that bit of madness only lasted a few million years.

Mind you, my brain isn’t utterly perfect; physically invulnerable, of course, but certainly not perfect. I’ve got plenty of little illusions, even sane; little stars in the distance, at the perfect size to sustain life, twinkling and so on and so forth—not physically, of course, but I can sense them with my quite probably unreliable magic—but they always disappear after a mere trillion years or so. Very dull.

I figure that if I stay over here and huddle down for a bit, real life should come to me.

After all, do I not have several doctorates in astrophysics and public administration? All honorary, of course, but one can’t possibly fault experience. I deserve a job, damn it, and I most certainly will get one.

The market, besides, isn’t particularly competitive. Consider: I am an immortal alicorn with millions of years of experience running a world, leading it successfully into a stasis whereby modern technology exists only for entertainment and war is a distant, painful memory.

Everything accounted for, I really am the best choice for any potential solar management position.

Then again, you know how it is. I bet you the moment I get a job, some transdimensional energy being’s gonna just waltz in through some black hole and just take my people away with promises of lower cake consumption, democratic domestic policy and guided scientific advancement into the space age.

Fucking immigrants.

—

I’m voting for the Pub Party.

The Pub Party, of course, is a little thing in my mind whereby I fool myself into believing that cider and beer still exist and voting for them will get me some sort of recompense for my years of servitude.

Speaking of cider, I really should’ve tapped Luna’s flank while her body was still extant; it would at least have made for a far more stable relationship than usual. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to have your lovers die one by one over the years?

Assuming that you live for as long as a pony and you’re not a zoophile, you don’t—and I can assure you that it’s incredibly annoying. At one point, I had to arrange thirteen funerals in a single century. Thirteen! Now, that’s just amazingly depressing. I've since had to run a funeral service for all ponykind, of course, but at least I could cry there without hiding my face.

At least the various Bearers of the Elements of Harmony had the decency to die maybe three at once—they tended to fall in love with the only ponies who could give their lives meaning and relinquish their immortality at the same time, the lucky bastards. Then they’d get a state funeral, and let me assure you that a state funeral isn’t nearly as boring as a private one.

After all, you can’t arrange a riot to interrupt a private funeral without arousing some suspicion.

And imagine the drama! “Luna,” I would have said as the moon began to descend, “I want you to know that I—”

“Say no more,” she would go in that terrifyingly pompous way as she jumped upon me, “My only regret is that the love that we have embraced dared not speak its name amongst our subjects; my only regret is that our souls shall only meet once more.”

She’d climax around the time the moon landed, and it would be the most spectacularly pyrokinetic bout of fatal erotic asphyxiation ever.

I mean, sure, the actual exchange was actually kind of great, something along the lines of “My sister, let it be known that though I blah blah blah we’re all going to die and I’m going to stay living forever without my little ponies and that really sucks,” what with the affecting emotional collapse and all, but just think of the ratings.

Now, I may sound shameless, but let me assure you that around the seven trillionth year your inhibitions about your own thoughts, if they’ve ever existed, tend to disappear like tears in the rain.

Tears in the rain.

Rain?

Water, lakes, rivers, forests—

Well, it looks like I’ve forgotten rain.

Damn it.

—

I’ve forgotten a ton of things.

I'm not sure why I've just realized that now, but I have.

(I gave up the whole ‘Trottinghamian’ thing around two trillion years ago, for instance.)

For example, I can’t really remember what my first words were. Something along the line of I am the light and the light is me and we are one as we must be, certainly, though it probably was something more like insert funny baby noises here for future generations to giggle at when I tell the tale.

I was always very meta, after all.

—

I’ve tried making music, but the lack of air isn’t very encouraging.

Really, do you know how annoying it is to try and make metal in a universe where every metal worth talking about has been utterly ripped asunder and the only instrument left is your sun?

I move a hoof up—this is a legendary cramp—and let my horn do the actual work, as though I’m in some bedroom of the infinite. There’s a few solar flares (my immortal sun doesn’t normally eject a lot of matter or energy, unlike those other, amateur stars, and look where it is now) and a very flattering sunspot.

This accomplishes absolutely nothing musical.

Fuck me, this hurts.

—

Now, without a frame of reference, one may wonder how I’m keeping track of time. I’ve actually got an atom of caesium-133 I keep sustained—yes, yes, I know, not as dramatic as a wilting tree mirroring my demise in itself, but much easier to maintain—and I count its transitions, one by one.

Sure, you might be thinking ‘how does this immortal god-being count the nine billion, one hundred and ninety-two million, six hundred and thirty one thousand, seven hundred and seventy periods of radiation in a second with her limited mind’?

The answer is magic.

I heartily wish that I was intelligent enough to think up better stupid questions for myself.

—

I suppose I should consider the accomplishments I’ve found myself with thus far in my little role. I can remember what I think is half of them; the unification of the ponies, the repulsion of the gryphons—hell, that went so well that when they finally rediscovered literacy they started calling themselves ‘griffons’, like some kind of gelded cousin—the discovery of cold fusion and about a few thousand things besides. I’ve ruled over at least three civilizations, if we count that little singularity I kept under control.

I’ve accomplished more than any mortal pony could, and have outlived every single one of them; this is my eternal reward.

Huh.

I’ve actually thought of it that way a few quadrillion times before in the last eternity—that is to say, in the last googol seconds, give or take a few trillion—but I must admit that this is an interesting way to think about it.

—

You know, I actually do spend a lot of time stopping myself from lapsing into insanity.

I have no clue why. I fail quite a lot, of course, and spend on average a few billion years now and then living out my lives among my former subjects, but I always force myself to come back. I think I’ve still got a bit of the old Celestia left in me.

But really, there’s actually something I haven’t contemplated before. Maybe the jar my brain’s in has some sort of anti-that-idea serum in it and I’ve just gotten a new jar, but I’ve never actually thought of it this way:

What if I constructed these states and then went into them, knowing they weren’t real?

Stay with me, here.

I think if I ever do that—if I ever make a world in my head and have fun with it—it'll be a nice world. It'll be like a foal's show: not perfect, but without all those little Hearth's Warming atrocities and those suicidally codependent Elements. It wouldn't have a moon with a decaying orbit and the key to the entire world's happiness would be kept safely in a little crystal town which I and the Elements will save from certain destruction, rendering redundant long wars of attrition.

Maybe I'll even make it a world where I can be in danger, and maybe it'll even be a world where I can die.

Nah, that's taking it a bit far.

Still, I think I'm going to do it, and I think I'm going to have a cute little name for it.

I think I’ll call it Equestria.

Much better than ‘Equus’.

Ugh.

Comments

[Amit]

No, I don't know what I was thinking.

In any case: Geimverusagan is the Icelandic name for the 'brain in the vat' theory, literally meaning space-creature saga.

[Alex12]

Huh. Wow. I'm impressed.

[Biker_Dash]

Yeah... just from the intro, I can tell this one is gonna brainfuck me...
DAMN YOU! I was busy reading my nightly dose of clop, and you had to post this!

Shit looks good... gonna read it now

[Bad Horse]

It would have been better for me if I hadn't read enough of your blog posts to know how much Celestia sounds like you. I kept feeling like I was reading another one. It's short, but still too long for a, well, cosmic joke.

[aaaa_aaaa]

1703764

What if the Celestia that's writing this is the fantasy of an even more insane Celestia? Or what if Equestria is the real world an Discord is trying to drive her perma-insane with solophistic doubt? Or if this is Iceman's optimalverse AI evolving a sort of meta consciousness where it's unaware that the simulated ponies are backed by neural networks?

Or what if this is the writing of a human with too much time... Wait a moment.

[Fiddlebottoms]

Funny, but sad.
Very Nine Inch Nails, but most immortal=sad stories are.
I think, based on the ending this goes best.

What if everything around you, isn't quite as it seems? What if all the world you think you know, is an elaborate dream?
Although, that might be because this particular song has rather intertwined with the show. Choosing a dream over reality, and such.

Oh, and Spoiler Alert, I guess. Whatever, why are you reading the comments first if you're worried about spoilers?

[Biker_Dash]

That was quite deep actually. A lot of thought packed into less than 2k words.

Instant fav!

[Amit]

1704408
fffffffff-

I swear that's my greatest fear with writing, besides the story not actually being good. I've really got to iron that out somehow.

[Enceledus]

i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/173/576/Wat8.jpg?1315930535

[Starcat5]

Hmm... My personal head canon has Equestria being in a post-heat death pocket universe. The normal laws of physics no longer apply, and past the twinkling lights in the sky Luna named "Stars", there is literally nothing.

...my second favorite theory has Equestria in the middle of a dense nebula. Natural starlight can't reach there, so Luna made her own.

1703764
Not sure if I'll actually read this, though. I'll track it for now and check back later.

[YukoAsho]

And that's how Equestria was made, it seems.

Interesting thoughts of a goddess at the moment she plans to re-create the universe. Hopefully she plans to make it of somewhat sterner stuff.

[Rask]

Jesus fuck! I wanted a challenge... I must have wanted a challenge - 'cause I read this fucking story. Good going writing this fucking story. It is fucking great! FUCK!!!

To put my comment in a less insane manner: I fear living forever and dying forever. Forever. I can not understand the concept of forever. It hurts my head while I shit my ears being raped painful but worse than I can describe. I thought halfway reading this story, I was going to explode. Too much in a short time. Silly me. I should have know my limit. Why am I reading about pony gods that are forever? To be challenge...

After I pick myself off the floor, I read this a 2nd time and a 3rd time. My center held as my fear broke. I still do not understand forever (most likely not the point of the story). I do not fear forever anymore.

Also: shut up Pinkie Pie.

[Kunnka-Kun]

My mind is in tatters! A very good read and it explores the thought process of an immortal being terrifically. Some parts just were so insane that they doubled back and went into being perfectly sensible.

[Bravais]

1704470

I'll take your Nine Inch Nails and raise Meshuggah.

Lyrics: http://www.darklyrics.com/lyrics/meshuggah/catch33.html

"My ignorance cast in the mold of all things absolute
I sustain forever my gaze. A stare fixed on the distant oblivion
Resting in the inverted state of being dead, non-sensory matter
As all the earth, the wind, the fire, the sea behold and learn to pity me"

"Mutiny of self.
Insurrection games convincingly performed
Incapacitated by physical thoughts acting out the will of tendon and bone
Have the bridges of insanity been crossed and forever retracted?
Am I standing among a thousand selves? Is the multitude of laughters mine alone?"

"So imminently visible - this cloaked innocent guilt
Sentenced to a lifetime, a second of structured chaos
Trampled by the ferocious, raging crowds of solitude
I'm the soil beneath me soaking up the sustenance of my own death

Extradited to the gods of chance, the deities of all things random
Alive, multicolored, twitching in their dead monochrome world"

"Iridescent to the searching eyes, I'm all things vivid in a world of grey
So easily spotted, so easily claimed in this domain where all is prey

My thoughts a radiant beacon to the omnidirectional hunter-god radar
I'm a markerlight of flesh to these subconscious carnivores
I am them. I am teeth. I'm their arousal at the kill
Feasting on self. A schizoreality warp. The contradiction fulfilled

Focus the only means to see me back to life's unending swirl
A reversal of passing away, as the world of dead, as away is now my origin"

"I float through physical thoughts. I stare down the abyss of organic dreams
All bets off, I plunge - Only to find that self is shed"

Hahaha, hahahaha, hahahahaha!

[BenRG]

Nice little twist at the end there! So, none of it really happened, eh? It's just the place an immortal went to while away the rest of eternity in a better version of her own fondest memories. Of course, for a god, that might be what 'creating a universe' is - constructing something from their own will with which to fill the blank canvas of creation.

Is the creation of the inner reality of a god any less real than the objectively 'real' universe and, indeed, can there be anything termed 'objectively' real when, by definition, only the perspective of the subject grants reality because none exist outside their own perspectives? Indeed, can anything be considered real other than the reality Celestia chooses to perceive because, by definition, there is no-one else to preceive it! Allegedly. Oooh wow! I can imagine that Twilight would spend days puzzling over that one! She should ask the Princess: "Princess, am I real or do you just choose to imagine that I'm real and imagine that I believe I have any reality separate from you?

Lovely bit of writing that once again reminds us that immortality isn't all it cracked up to be in a mortal universe. I wonder if Celestia ran into the Highlander during her long wait?

[kingtiger666]

If this story were somewhat more serious, I'd post an Emily Dickinson poem here. Unfortunately, this isn't nearly as angsty and depressing as it should be. It's wonderful anyways.

[Waterpear]

Then the computer said: "LET THERE BE PONIES."

[Pashoo]

Shit just got meta.

But seriously, apart from the "Equestria is just the imaginings of an insane god" vibe, I'm getting from this, it's pretty funny, too. As cheesily profound as it sounds, I think that if your mind existed that long, and you went insane without the risk of physical deterioration, it would only be a matter of time before you "found yourself" again. So yeah, I can see this happening.

[Doxkid]

Quite amusing.

[draconis72000]

Wow, that was hilarious, I am in so much laughing pain.

You are a comedic genius, also I loved the premise. I never wondered what Celestia would do at the end of the world.

You got yourself a new stalker/follower.

Thank you very much for sharing this with us, I really needed the laugh.

[WrathOfGod519]

And thus I started following Amit, and began to wonder why I had not done so earlier.

[Beyonder]

At times, it seems to me that there are moments where I can see potential for very real and very powerful philosophical discussions on this site, but then my latent suspicions reaffirm themselves of their own respective accuracy when what I had once perceived as holding higher meaning (at the fore, at least) was really just a ploy to enforce an intricate facade of jaded implications upon a detailed episode of odd, yet witty comedic solace.

Still, it was pretty good; I just like to ramble.

[Amit]

2217802
tbh I tried to give my interpretation of an immortal mind with full honesty so it really wasn't meant to be a comedy at all and I just put that tag in so it didn't get rejected

same with twilight discovers literary analysis and judgement and I guess everything else I've ever written I guess

that being said I dunno man if that's what it's like to you that's cool

[Spectrumancer]

Whoa, Deep stuff. Very well written dialogue.

Also,
1703764
Hver fjandinn, eru aðrir Íslendingar á síðunni?

[Amit]

2442575

Hver fjandinn, eru aðrir Íslendingar á síðunni?

Nej, því miður. I just picked the only language I knew of with a unique compound noun for the brain-in-the-jar theory; the only Icelandic words I know are já, nej and birgirpall.

[Spectrumancer]

2445698

*goes back to being the only brony in the village*

[Personifire]

yes, yes, I know, not as dramatic as a wilting tree mirroring my demise in itself, but much easier to maintain

That sounds suspiciously familiar...
Ugh, I can't find the fic. Darn.

[Amit]

2601406
I think it was a story by Obselesence or something.

[Personifire]

Indeed it is! Good catch.

[hypervelocity]

Definitely a deep story...though it has this insane funnyness to it that made me giggle throughout.

Nice job! :)

[Super Trampoline]

yes, yes, I know, not as dramatic as a wilting tree mirroring my demise in itself,

making fun of a certain somepony, eh?

That ending. Reminded me of This: http://www.fimfiction.net/story/61973/creating-the-universe

[Renodil]

1715992 Yea. It's just like that time travelling dude on Ben10, (What was his name again), when he was first telling them about himself and he said something like, "I went insane for awhile until it became boring. Then I went sane. Very sane." Something like that.

[Renodil]

2217802 Could you run that by me again? Using smaller words?

[Renodil]

2446381 Awww. Please don't be sad.

[Spectrumancer]

6552073
I was sad over two years ago

[Renodil]

6552353 Yea. Well, they need to rework the comments to read months not just weeks. I ain't trying to figure out months by counting off weeks on my fingers. I don't even bother checking the date comments are posted anymore.

[Cerulean Rush]

I did a reading:
https://youtu.be/_ovp61HQxu0

[Cerulean Rush]

11130961
I'm actually really proud of the fact that the number of transitions the atom of Ceasium-133 undertakes in a second only took one attempt to read.