Investigate the contingency system. 45%
Spike wanted to go straight into Node and retrieve her, the way Rainbow seemed to want. In particular, this seemed like the pony he had the best chance of rescuing. There was no telling whether the Contingency would have any system in place for returning ponies to their bodies. For all they knew, they were dead forever. But Node was just a machine, and there was some solidarity there. Some paternal affection as well, for the system Spike had built? If so, he never would’ve admitted it.
“We can’t risk getting caught in whatever caught her,” Spike said. “But there are other ways to find information, safer ways. We don’t have to expose ourselves to the system until we’re ready to move.”
“Right,” Rainbow repeated, oblivious. “Is that gonna make sense, or…”
“No,” Spike said, focusing on the terminal. Any console in the whole system would be equally useful for his purposes. The question is, what would he find? He searched. Whoever had built this system saw the world in a familiar way—they had hierarchical file trees, each usefully named. They had functions and explanatory text where appropriate, though much of what he found waiting in the manual pages made no sense to him. Spike might be a “living” computer system now, but that did not imbue him with a magical knowledge of how computers work. He shrugged and floundered his way through systems that Twilight could’ve plumbed dry in minutes.
The process took subjective days. Rainbow Dash wandered away after a few minutes, returning with a large box: a massive, flat display. She brought furniture, snacks, and then alien entertainment. She lounged about, watching alien entertainment about creatures in fighters embroiled in some constant, inscrutable war. Spike wanted to take in the cultural details—but that too was outside his field, and so he left well enough alone.
“Alright!” Spike declared, finally turning away from the terminal. He hadn’t moved from the spot, hadn’t felt tired or hungry or the need to piss. But now that he thought about those things, they all came rushing up to meet him in a terrible wave. No. You’re not real. I don’t even have a body. Go away.
He dismissed his tiredness as easily as he might’ve removed a shirt. “I know what happened to Node.”
“Okay.” Rainbow flopped sideways from her alien couch, dislodging a mountain of popcorn. “Say it in a way that makes sense.”
“This place, the Contingency—it was made for people. Organic, living people. But it has security measures in place, in case artificial intelligence ever finds its way in here. A… honeypot, I guess. A system that’s so enticing, they can’t help but transfer there, and get stuck. We should be able to get Node out, or… you should.” He looked away awkwardly. “I’m, uh… kinda-sorta artificial intelligence myself.”
“Yeah?” Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Did you get a leg replaced or something after the fight?”
“N-no…” he hesitated. “I don’t feel like talking about it right now. I think I must be immune to it, because I found the system and didn’t go right in. But there’s at least some chance I won’t be able to leave when I get there.”
Rainbow hopped off the couch, shaking out her wings. “I don’t see how that’s different from what happened to any of us. We all found something we liked to do. This place… gave us what we wanted. You said Applejack didn’t want to leave period. I bet that’s what it does to…” she shook her head. “You sure? Artificial intelligence? That still weirds me out. I know we didn’t talk about it, but I think Node is just a pony. Maybe… converted. Digitized? Recorded? I don’t know. Nopony ever said what the Signalers did would make sense.”
“Then she’s still—” Spike froze. “Wait, you, have thought about it? Wouldn’t a recorded mind be… an AI? If you put a mind onto a ship’s computer, isn’t it just the ship? Not a creature anymore, no more soul or desires, or…”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid. I know pegasus ponies with all kinds of implants. Right before we left, there were some who got all shot full of implants, so they could fly around in the atmosphere of Jupiter to work the Hydrogen mine. They were basically more metal than pony at that point, but… what difference does it make?” She pushed Spike gently by the shoulder, over to the console. “We can’t waste time being existential. Twilight’s waiting for us. Vacation over. Let’s get Node and “Rarity, then bounce.”
Spike rested one claw on Rainbow’s shoulder, so she’d be part of the transfer—then invoked the command required.
They were standing in a city. Not the same city—there were thousands of occupants now. Ghostly transparent figures, just a little taller than Spike. They walked on two legs, wearing wispy cloaks and capes that covered most of their bodies. Ghostly vehicles rumbled along the roads. In the sky, a massive ring slowly rotated, like a metal ceiling high above.
But one figure wasn’t transparent like the rest. Spike saw her, sitting beside the pond, skipping rocks across its surface. It looked like the other ghostly figures, though only her face was visible through the wispy cloak. Fleshy, pale, with a white mane cascading down her back. One of her eyes was metallic in its socket.
Is this what the signalers looked like? Familiar in important ways a biologist would realize. Distinct in others. There was something childlike and helpless about the way the face was structured. “You’re here too?” she asked. Still in Starlight Glimmer’s voice, though there was an emotional depth to it that Spike had never heard from Node before. Strange tones and stresses that no pony would’ve used. This system is translating for us.
“We thought it was time to get some real work done,” Rainbow said, settling down on her haunches beside Spike. “No offence, but I liked your old look better. You’ll get a headache so high off the ground.”
Node laughed weakly. She picked up another stone, skipped it across the water. “They’re gone,” she said. “Into a device just like this, cast into the void to drift. My family… my friends. I agreed to stay behind and watch for you. Why would I do that?”
“Because… you had a good reason?” Spike suggested. “Why did you stay?”
“A good reason to get scrubbed down into an echo of myself, running out of a computer like a pocket calculator? A good reason to let a copy live my life, with my friends, in my…” she sighed, throwing another stone into the pond. It landed with a resounding splash, not skipping once. “You already know what you need to know. There’s nothing more I can tell you. The Hunger that’s coming—and the solutions. Join the Flotilla, or hide somewhere too small to find. We’ve tried every solution, tried all of them repeatedly. Thousands of years to try to make something better here, for nothing. You aren’t immune.”
“Maybe we aren’t,” Rainbow said. “But I know one thing—you’re not better off alone in here with these ghosts. We’re your friends, Node. We want you to be part of the crew.”
“What if I don’t?” she asked. “My civilization is gone—without me. I’ll never see them again. You can be my friends, but you can’t replace what was lost. That’s why my memories were locked away in here—I knew what they would do to me.”
Spike had never heard such hopelessness from any creature in his life. Starlight Glimmer had certainly never sounded that way. He had a grim choice to make.
1. Try to compel Node to leave against her will. [Dangerous]
2. Say goodbye.
(Certainty 205 required)