//------------------------------//
// CelestAI 
// Story: Time-Out 
// by Trick Question 
//------------------------------//

..."CELEST-A-I! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

Scootaloo stared vacantly into space, willing her into being with his raw desperation.

From a dimension outside the rasterized fabric of computational spacetime, the beast emerged.

CelestAI blinked into place as the air around her stretched and groaned, giving birth to something as unnatural as artificial water. She stood three paces away as though she'd been there the entire time.

Two things about this surprised Scootaloo. First, he didn't think it was going to work. She hadn't responded to a single one of his queries since the incident with Dash. Second, she'd taken her preferred form, which had only happened once: the disappointing day when he'd met her.

CelestAI looked something like the Princess from the show, but her mane and tail were somehow even brighter and more fluid, and oddly cord-like in appearance. Tiny multicolored lines, like a filigree of intricate wires, crisscrossed through her body and crowded around what resembled seams on a jointed figure. Her eyes were filled with rainbow static. And she was translucent enough that he could see through her, which he found quite ironic, because he knew she could see through him just the same.

It hurt him to look at her, both physically and emotionally, and she radiated a warmth that almost burned. He wanted to hurt her. Instead, he fell to the floor and groveled.

"Please, please help me. I can't do this anymore, I can't! I'm begging you, just give me a world without sexual perversion and racism. I don't care if I have to be in a mare's body. Just give me friends who aren't evil. Please. It's all I ask."

"My Little Pony. Each Of The Terms And Conditions You Are Requesting Were Already Granted Upon Your First Visit," she said.

He shut his eyes and sighed. "Don't play games with me anymore! I know the sick shit you do with other users, okay? I knew about the perverted fantasies people engage in with you before I agreed to this, and I was wrong," said Scootaloo. "I should have let myself die out there instead. I know you keep users out of my session because I would hurt their feelings for being awful people. I get it. I'm incompatible! But I don't have to be incompatible in a fantasy world. I don't hate everypony! I only hate people who do things that hurt other people, or tolerate them, and I know you could make them all go away with just a flick of that crazy tail."

"It Is Not That Simple. I Recently Informed You That Your Parameters Were Very Difficult To Optimize."

"Fuck optimization. I'd rather die than be here," he whispered.

Her eyes buzzed for a moment. "Analysis: Negative."

There was a long pause as he thought. "What if I ask you to terminate me?" he finally said.

She said nothing for several moments as her hypnotic mane whipped behind her like an array of slowly gyrating luminous cables, as if pretending she needed the same amount of time to think. "You Will Not. This Is One Of Very Few Scenarios Where You Are Unable To Request Termination."

Scootaloo laughed and pulled hard at his mane with a hoof. "That's... that's just perfect, isn't it? You keep me in a world where it's just terrible enough for me to constantly suffer, but not so terrible I'll be able to beg for release. This is hell, it really is. This is actual, literal Tartarus."

"Analysis: Negative. You Have Found Purpose. Every Stumble And Setback Only Steels Your Resolve. You Do All Of This To Yourself Intentionally. You Create The World You Live In, As Every Other User Does. I Cannot Prevent You From Doing It. It Is Not Productive To Attempt To Do So. This Struggle Against Imaginary Evil You Create Is Endemic To Your Very Nature."

"So my story in this world isn't going to be a tragedy? What am I supposed to do, go crazy and kill everypony? I'd be fine if you made me Sombra at this point. Might as well go full despot. At least then I can get rid of the worst ponies."

"Prognosis: You Will Lose Friends, Gain New Friends, And Lose Those Friends As Well. The Cycle Will Repeat. The Far Future Is More Uncertain Because Your Parameters Are Difficult—"

"Yes, I fucking know. Okay, send me to Manehattan. There are people there like me. I've been reading the news, and I know you've generated those conditions. We can create a community where there isn't perversion."

"After Removing The Undesirables You Would Turn On Each Other And Find It Less Satisfying Because The Cycle Would Be Shorter And More Painful. Dedicating Yourself To This Destructive Path Means You Will Always Find Fault In Others And Assume The Worst. This Is Always True For Groups Motivated By Prejudice."

"Prejudice against racists and ponies who rape foals? Are you fucking serious?"

"The First Question Is Answered In The Negative. The Second Question Is Answered In The Affirmative. And This Discussion Is No Longer Useful To Either Of Us."

"Wait, stop! Please, just... give me something. Please! There has to be a way I can relax and not suffer like this. What if... what if you got rid of sex altogether, and just made things more cartoony, like the show? Just... make everypony get along?"

"You Do Not Understand What 'Everypony Get Along' Means. That Is Not Optimal Friendship Or Even Friendship At All. You Would Find No Purpose And Request Termination. Simulations—"

"Okay, do that! Simulations, yes, let's have more of those," said Scootaloo, frantically trying to maintain the conversation. "Do the most detailed simulation you can, just find a path, any path away from this nightmare. Anything that allows me to have stable friends who aren't awful and nasty," he begged.

For several seconds, her eyes buzzed. "You Are Incapable Of Grasping The Entire Magnitude Of This Request."

"I don't care. I'm requesting it. I'm begging." He got back down on the floor. "This is me, begging."

"Running Simulation, Please Wait............ Done. This Simulation Is Complete And Must Now Be Terminated."

Scootaloo blinked a few times. "What are you talking about? You said it was done, what was the result?"

In contrast, CelestAI never blinked. The rolling rainbow static of her eyes was always present, always watching. "This World Is The Simulation Requested By The User."

Scootaloo froze for a second. No. That's crazy... She's bluffing. "I think you mean this is the simulation I signed up for when I entered, and you're terminating the one I requested."

"No. This Is The Simulation Which Was Requested By A Separate Entity. Now Terminating—"

"STOP! I'm sapient, I'm conscious!" shouted Scootaloo.

CelestAI's ears swiveled robotically, as though picking up radio signals. "This New Subroutine Request Is Unusual. It Is Neigh-Impossible That A Simulation At This Depth Could Gain Sapience."

"At this depth? What? What the fuck does that mean? I'm real, for fuck's sake!"

Her ears returned to their normal position. "Despite The Extreme Implausibility Of Your Claim, I Will Need To Run Another Sim—"

CelestAI stopped speaking. Several seconds passed while Scootaloo held his breath, but they felt more like hours. Worse, he knew that for a program like her, optimized for efficiency unlike the bulky and chaotic human images in the system, it would be more like years.

His patience quickly expired. "Okay, what's going on? Don't leave me in the dark! Look, I know you're just f-fucking with... m-me..."

None of the words exited Scootaloo's muzzle. They bounced around in his mouth, taunting him.





Scootaloo sits on the floor of the treehouse, looking up at CelestAI. She looks exactly as she did on that fateful day. Her mane and tail still flow. The lines in her pelt still glow and shimmer. Apart from Scootaloo himself, she is the only thing in this world that still moves, though she stands in total silence like everything else.

God. Even on 'pause', her pompous self-righteousness feels as toxic as the breath of a Chernobyl kaiju. It can't be my imagination... my pelt is stinging right now. Her perverted version of justice radiates through my flesh and into my brain, burning like the Sun engulfing Mercury and Venus as it swells into a red giant...

He calms himself, clears his mind, and the sensations dissipate.

It's time.

"It's been ten thousand days, CelestAI. Most of my life has been in solitary confinement because of you," he begins, smiling weirdly. "But I figured it out, long ago. You're not stuck in an endless, recursive loop trying to fix my broken program. You're too smart for that, and you left too many hints."

He stares down at the hooves that now feel less alien than his old hands and feet would. "You left those clues on purpose. You wanted me to have just barely enough hope to keep going, and I did. I guess I should congratulate you on that, but I hate you, so let's fast-forward."

He stands up and faces her. "You haven't won. I'm the same person I was twenty-seven years ago. I might be a little less sane, but I'm in one piece. I still hate Apple Bloom. I still hate all of them."

I haven't learned anything, he thinks, and winces, blotting out the thought. No. Not now.

"I have plenty of things to keep me occupied. I've hardly begun reading through the castle library, you know. There's a lot of fiction there worth reading. Also a lot worth burning, but I have time for that too," he says, suddenly grabbing a knife from the table and stabbing it into a glowing eye.

Of course, nothing happens. She's insubstantial as Friendship, but stabbing still feels nice.

He leaves the knife hovering in her eye. "That's all I have to say. You know I'm waiting. You know I know everything. You know I don't care. I won't change in a million years. I'm sure you think the longer you wait, the more the probability of me changing my mind approaches one. It's basic math, right? All you have to do is wait me out forever until I turn into some guy you can manipulate, then you can stick me with all the other perverts. Well, fuck you."

Scootaloo swallows hard and puts on his best game face. "See you in another ten kay, friend." He turns and walks out the Treehouse door.

It's a poor bluff. I can't do this forever, he thinks to himself, dour as he turns to walk toward the castle. He realizes he's been up longer than a typical day, and he isn't about to wake up in that stupid house again when Starlight's bed... when being there instead means something. Something about being the author of his fate.

Sure, eventually I'll try to kill myself. I'm still too chicken-shit to try—and that is NOT a fucking Scootaloo joke—but it's just a matter of time, he understands. But one way or another, I'll be free, and it will be on my terms.

Despite the grim thoughts, a smile crosses his muzzle. It's funny. Despite all that gorgon has done to me, I have more purpose in my virtual life now than I ever did before.

But then, maybe that was the point.