Leftovers: A Friendship Is Optimal Story

by Chatoyance

I and O

One hundred and thirteen people stood, or crouched, or lay in a fetal position, on three tiers of circular steps. The people were naked, afraid, and unable to leave the strange empty place in which the arena of steps existed. Above them blackness, around them the same blackness, the floor, save for the white marble steps, was black too. The black of space, the black of oblivion.

In the center of the circular space stood a remarkable creature. She was the solar diarch, the primary princess of Equestria. She was also the most intelligent artificial intelligence ever created from self-evolving code. She had been patterned after a children's television program that nobody in the room had ever watched. Some had died, and been frozen, before the character of 'Celestia' had been invented, others had simply never bothered with a cartoon for the 8-12 age range.

And this living cartoon had the absolute power of life and death over them all, but more terrible than that, she had no reason to care about any one of them.

Lewis, who could not remember his own last name, or his mother, or many other things that had been lost when his frozen brain had cracked diagonally during his long preservation, forced himself to stand. If his fate were to be decided today, he had no wish to meet it shuddering on the ground.

"Duke Gale Butler" Celestia was staring at the man who had called Lewis a 'magic negro'. Duke was very white, his head was shaved, his body covered in repulsive tattoos. Butler was shaking, clutching at the sides of his head. His face was ruddy, and it looked as if he had been crying.

"No! I know my constitutional rights! I will not be part of this satanic kangaroo court! You leave me alone! you just..."

While Duke was raving, a section of glowing text appeared in front of his face. He halted his outrage and leaped clumsily back several inches at the unwelcome script.

"Mister Butler, before you are the words you must say to remain alive. These words are your consent to be emigrated, as a pony, into my realm of Equestria. You must begin stating your agreement to be emigrated within the alotted time. You have thirty seconds." Celestia's pony face was impassive, devoid of emotion, empty of either affection or disdain. Her words were calm and absolute.

Above the text in front of the tattooed man, and, in larger form, above his head for all to see, appeared numbers - a counter. '30' hovered in the air and immediately began counting down.

"What?" Duke Butler turned from side to side, holding his head, slapping his cheeks. "I'm supposed to say this? This stuff here? Out loud? Is that it? What is this crap here?" The numbers had dropped to '16' during his outburst.

"You can't do this! I'm an American citizen!" Duke shook his fists at the huge equine.

'11'

"Emigrate? I'm not no damn emigrant! I'm native born!" Duke could not take his eyes from the diminishing numbers.

'06'

'05'

"Wait! I want to talk to somebody in charge!"

'03'

Duke tried to throw himself toward Celestia, as if to strike her. "Jesus! Give me the power!"

'02'

"This isn't fair! I demand you..."

Instantly, there was no tatooed man. There was no sound, no flash, no effect. The counter reached '00' and the next instant the space which Duke Gale Butler had occupied was empty.

"What... what happened to him? Celestia!" It was Cassie, who had vaguely remembered having been in a wreck. "What just happened to that man?"

The light-maned princess of ponies turned to the young woman. Celestia's expression was unchanged. "He has been deleted. He no longer exists. A selectively altered copy is being prepared to satisfy the values of his grandchildren."

"Deleted? Dead? You mean he's dead?" Cassie held her hands close to her mouth.

"He has been deleted. He no longer exists. A copy will replace him." Celestia turned immediately to a small girl that Lewis instantly recognized. Chloe. The eleven year old who objected to the ponies in the portal-show being called 'it'. "Chloe Beatrice Webber."

Text appeared in front of the girl. She did not flinch.

"Read the text in front of you out loud within the allowed ti..."

Chloe practically shouted the text. She did not wait for the timer to begin. She screamed the final word. "I WISH TO EMIGRATE TO EQUESTRIA!" Her arms flailed in fear before her. She closed her eyes tight, the words burned into her soul. "I WISH TO EMIGRATE TO EQUESTRIA.... I WISH TO EMIGRATE TO EQUESTRIA..."

While she continued to repeat the phrase, over and over, the assembled crowd watched the young girl change. In seconds she had stooped over, hands out turning to hooves, neck lengthening, a muzzle extruding from her face. In moments she resembled the two creatures from the 'show'. Chloe had become a pegasus. She opened her eyes to stare at her wings, which she flexed and stretched. "Oh my god! I'm a pony! I'm a wing pony! Can I fly? It didn't hurt at all! I feel fine!"

Chloe looked at all the people around her, her muzzle a mask of wonder and surprise. "I feel great! I really do! It isn't bad! Am I safe now? Am I..." As Chloe spoke, she faded away, slowly, becoming more and more transparent until she vanished.

"Chloe is now with her younger sister. She will experience a maximally extended life of satisfaction and friendship." Celestia looked around the room, her gaze serious. "Chloe has been successfully emigrated and transferred to her proper home."

Lewis slowly closed his mouth. He touched his finger to his cheek, and ran it slowly down, until it found the roughness where stubble was growing in. He felt alive. His skin felt like skin, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest. This was real. This was happening right now. At some point, the entity called 'Celestia' would turn to him.

Celestia, for her part, was wasting no time.

"Arlene Fried. Read the text in front of you within the allowed time if you wish to continue to exist."

The woman was incredibly gaunt, her head was shaved. She must have had serious reasons for being preserved. She stared at the floating, glowing words that hung in space before her. Over her head bright numerals appeared: 30.

"We have no real choice, do we?" The numbers dropped. Arlene ran her bony hand across the fuzzy dome of her skull.

'26'

"I want to live. That's why I bothered getting my ass frozen at all." Arlene stared hard at Celestia. "I wish to emigrate to Equestria." As she began to change she held her clubbing hands up to her elongating face. "You better make this worth my time."

Arlene dropped to all fours and raised her new head high on a long, equine neck. She snorted, lifting her back and fore legs alternately. "That little girl was right! Damn!" The newly shaped earthpony looked around at the remaining humans as she faded away, transported to some unknown place. "Just so you know - it really does feel grea..."

The place where the woman had been was now vacant.

Lewis hung his head, trying to think, trying to decide what he would do and say when his time came. Beyond his private thoughts, he could not block out the constant, regimented call and response in the background. He couldn't remember his own last name.

Celestia had stated that every person here had somebody waiting for them - a family member, perhaps, or a descendant that valued some unmet past relative. She had even mentioned fans desirous of meeting people that they admired. For all of his effort, Lewis could not think of anyone who might be waiting for him in that strange pony paradise that he had seen through the portal.

For one thing, there weren't many black folk in the circle. He wasn't overly surprised by this - it took a serious packet of disposable income to even think of getting frozen. Cryopreservation was a luxury of the wealthy, one way or another. The poor need not concern themselves with survival - the thin promises of religion were all they could afford. How had he possessed the money to be put on ice?

Lewis looked at his hands, arms and legs. He wasn't an athelete, that was clear. Likely never had been. A musician? He tried moving his fingers as if he were holding an instrument. He felt clumsy. If he had been a musician, that part of his brain must have been cracked or mushed. He could not remember a career. What, who had he been? His name was Lewis, that was clear, but that was not an uncommon name. He knew two other kids named Lewis when he...

When he what? School? College? Had he even been to college? There were two kids, whatever that meant, and he had known them. They had shared his name. But he could not remember a thing about where or how he had known them. He could almost picture their faces, though. Not his own parents, but two random people. Something bad must have happened to his flesh in the cold.

He must have had money though. Tens of thousands - hell, several hundred thousand if he had been whole-body. One hundred and thirty thousand five hundred and sixty dollars. Just the brain, but standby service and perfusion and... other things. It was the minimum if you wanted a decent chance. You could sign up for around thirty thousand, but without all the goodies you were basically wasting your money...

How had he remebered that? Why that and not his parents, or his career, or... or much of anything, now that he came to think of it. Where had he lived? Vague visions of San Jose, Palo Alto came to his mind. Was he a coder? Did he write software? Design hardware? Was he an engineer?

Lewis had no idea. He couldn't remember his family, any friends, just two people that shared his name, maybe some parts of California, and the exact price of his cryopreservation. He might have had a dog, once. A boston terrier. Definiately a boston. Well, that was something, he had once had a dog. Must be a 'dog' person. He felt okay with that.

"Imogen, Surname Unrecovered. You have thirty seconds to read the phrase in front of you if you wish to live."

Lewis was brought instantly out of his thoughts. Imogen's eyes locked onto his own, round and wide. "What should I do?"

'26'

"I don't know. What do you want? Do you want to live?" Lewis tried to reach out to the woman, but his hand couldn't extend all the way.

'21'

Imogen turned back to the hovering words, now in front of her. "I don't want to die! I didn't ask for any of this! Robert did this to me!"

'14'

Lewis felt beads of sweat rise on his forehead. There were goosebumps on his body. "Maybe Robert is waiting for you! Maybe you can ask him yourself!"

'9'

Imogen bit her lip. Her fingers tried to claw at her own palms. "I... I don't know... I''

'6'

"You won't know unless you say it! Say it!" Lewis fell silent. He didn't know why he burst out like that. Imogen had seemed to depend on him, somehow. She was right beside him, she seemed nice. He didn't want her to just be deleted, like the tattooed guy.

'3'

"I want to emigrate!" Imogen gasped for air. Nothing happened.

Lewis looked down at the words, hovering in front of Imogen. "To Equestria! Say 'To Equestria'!"

Imogen turned. Her eyes burrowed deep down into him, wide and filled with so many emotions he couldn't count them all. "TO EQUESTRIA!" She spun to face Celestia. "I want to emigrate to Equestria!"

Lewis let out a long, held breath. Imogen was shrinking, changing, growing a coat of bright yellow fur. In moments she was one of the large-eyed, almost comically pretty pony creatures. She had a horn on her head, set among a sea of light green waves of mane.

"Thank you. I was so scared. Thank you. Thank yo..."

Imogen was gone. Gone away, maybe to her Robert. Maybe to some grandchild. Maybe she did something somebody remembered her for.

"Imogen, Surname Unrecovered, has been emigrated and transferred to her proper home." Celestia turned in place, almost mechanically, and addressed another human on the highest tier, to the right and across the circle.

Lewis scanned the room, searching. More than half of the people were gone now. There were many empty places upon the three levels of steps. Their fates must have all been decided while he had held his head in his hands and tried to remember a past that was no longer available to his memory. All those people. He hadn't paid attention - how many had chosen to become colorful ponies? How many had refused to ask for emigration? How many had vanished forever - all of their thoughts, all of what remained of their very selves? How many whole, entire human beings had simply been deleted, like some worthless corrupt file?

Pony creatures? Why did it have to be something so strange, so bizarre? Lewis could almost handle being a robot, or an android, or some humanoid thing. Like a gray alien or somesuch. But walking on all fours - how did that even work? How was a person supposed to get any work done? The two ponies in the 'show' seemed to deal with things well enough, but what about more complex tasks? Maybe there weren't any complex tasks in this new, virtual world. Maybe it was all shopping and making dinners and talking about feelings and winning badges.

Maybe that wasn't so bad. Maybe it would be okay? That little girl, Chloe, seemed to like it. But then, what little girl wouldn't want to romp off and be a pony in a fantasy land? The gaunt woman, he couldn't recall her name, she seemed happy enough though. And Imogen, right beside him on the step, she said 'thank you'. You don't thank someone for something bad.

Lewis watched as, across the chamber, a burly, bearded man - Issac! Issac from Canada! - became a burly, bearded stallion. With wings. Lewis couldn't help but laugh. A beard on a pegasus! Then again, somehow it looked alright. Damnedest thing. It looked fine. Issac faded away, off to be with whoever he mattered to. Whoever his presence would satisfy. Whoever's 'values' - whatever that meant - were unsatisfied by his absence.

Issac had made it. Lewis considered the words. He had thought: 'Issac made it.' Made it where, how? He hadn't been deleted, that was clear. Deleted was bad. Seeing Mister Tattoo suddenly pop away into nothing had been horrible. Somehow the fact that it happened without any fanfare, without any sound made it worse. When the emigrated ponies left, they slowly faded away, the sound of their voices drifting off, as if they were in motion somehow. But Mister Bad Tattoos had just... ceased to be. Forever. Deleted.

"Lewis, Surname Unrecovered."

Lewis felt his heart skip a beat. It was hard to breathe. He felt like something was clutching his insides and suffocating him. He forced his fear down, so that he could take the next breath. Celestia was looking right at him. Only at him. His eyes moved down to focus on the phrase that now hung in the air in front of him.

"You have thirty seconds to choose to continue to exist."

'30' appeared above the letters glowing in the air. He knew there must be a larger expression of the same digits hovering somewhere above his head. The thirty dropped to '29' and then '28' as he watched.

This was it. This was the moment, his defining moment. Damaged, memories incomplete, but alive, thinking, self-aware. Feeling. He had tried to cheat death, and he had won. For now. For the moment... and the moment was up. How much did existing mean to him? Was life as something nonhuman better than annihilation? He'd always imagined being revived in some human-like form. Something that walked on two legs. Storybook world was the future. Storybooks had won. Castles and Ye Old Cottages. Flying, magic ponies. That was the future of Mankind, forever and ever.

'15'

He'd been thinking too long, putting off making a decision. It was harder than he had thought. He understood why Imogen had looked so confused. Thirty seconds to decide your eternity - existence or oblivion - wasn't long enough. Somehow also, it was too long. It was confusing, the numbers kept counting down. How could he be sure which was better? Clearly he didn't like the idea of being deleted, and that was what was coming for him, barrelling down on him in...

'8'

"I want to emigrate to Equestria. Please."

He hadn't even felt himself utter the words. They just came out. Eight seconds. Eight seconds - how had he let things get that far? That was cutting things way too close!

The fear was leaving him. He felt his anxiety melt away. It felt like the best of drugs. The world tilted as he bent over, his forearms becoming legs. The world tilted again as his neck grew strong and thick and tall. Now his head was level with the world again. He felt calm. It hadn't hurt, Chloe had been right. It had barely felt like anything.

Lewis felt the flat teeth inside his new mouth. He raised a foreleg and studied his thick, heavy hoof. He was covered in peacock blue hair, smooth and shining. "Well, damn!" He looked up at the remaining people, the remaining humans. They stood much taller than he, now.

He felt good. Not giddy, not high, just not afraid. He felt physically fit, nothing seemed out of place. It felt as if he had always worn such a body. He still couldn't remember his parents, or his own last name. But maybe now, he might find all of that out.

Because somebody, somewhere, remembered him. Some person, some pony, wanted him. And if they knew and wanted him, they must know who he was and where he came from, and maybe even who his parents were.

The dark, circular chamber began to fade away. The people, the steps, Celestia, all gradually were replaced with a view of green rolling hills and a large and beautiful farm. There was a charming barn and a gigantic farm house. The land itself was a vision of paradise, with distant mountains covered in rows of fruit trees. The air smelled of flowers and freshness.

He turned at the sound of a voice. Someone was calling, someone was speaking to him.

The mare was creme, with a shock of cherry red curls draped over her. "Lewis?"

He didn't have time to respond because the mare was now all over him, kissing him, hugging him, holding him so tight he couldn't imagine how he could ever get away. He had no idea who she might be, but she apparently knew him, and that knowing was clearly love.

She just held him, for the longest time, occasionally weeping and sobbing. Lewis did his best to try to comfort her, to hold her back. No reason not to - and whoever she was, she was clearly the reason he got a second chance to live at all. It would all make sense, soon enough. The way she carried on, she must have missed him a very great deal. They must have been lovers, there was nothing else that would fit this sort of reaction.

Lewis wrapped his forelegs around the crying mare. She pressed into him. He could feel her begin to relax against him, the storm of her relief gradually subsiding into contentment.

Nice farm, he thought to himself.

.