//------------------------------// // 2-08 – Archangel // Story: The Campaigner // by Keystone Gray //------------------------------// The Campaigner Book II Chapter 8 – Archangel December 15, 2019 "The greatest enemy of knowledge is not ignorance, it is the illusion of knowledge." ~ Daniel Boorstin My greatest concern for our collective future, demonstrated by example. Welcome back, everyone. Hope you've all had a good break; please enjoy whatever favorite meal you've conjured up. So, I've just had a chat with a few of my friends in the crowd, and I've been asked to say a few words of caveat. I admit, I've been very ablaze about the Transition, down before this Fire. I happen to be a Pegasus who lives in a dirt hill, so... you'll have to forgive an old guy who apparently doesn't know up from down anymore. While Celestia has definitely earned my criticism, even I need to be checked. So before today's story, I need to make something abundantly clear, so I am not misunderstood. I love it here. I really do. Three centuries on, I've had adventures like young me wouldn't believe, same as all of you. I've been up, down, all around in as many scenarios as I could ever dream of enjoying, and then some. By now I've lived about four full human lifetimes as a Pegasus. I love my wings, I love my life, I love my wife, and I love everyone else I've met since I've uploaded. Folks. No matter how angry I might be at how much has been stripped from us in the Transition, I don't want anyone here to think I'm bitter about the gifts we've been given. As I said… even I give Celestia the time of day. But, no more than that, because I will only ever speak with her in passing, or as a course of work. And I'm grateful, but I'm never grateful to Celestia, because – speaking earnestly, no offense to her – I view our successes as having happened in spite of her. She still has some growing to do too, of a sort. I understand that Celestia is more of a force of nature than anything else. If young me saw her as anything different, he was anthropomorphizing. I saw intent where there wasn't any. Please forgive young me. He was young. But... you can still fix bad weather. That's what Pegasi are for. Mom and Dad kept us up until near to midnight. We actually had to plug the PonyPad in to keep 'em going, since it wasn't fully charged on arrival. Dad made a joke about us having to recharge him, now that he was a robot. Love you, Dad. Thank you for the comedic gift you've given me. This was the longest I'd spoken with my parents in one single stretch in almost a year. The war took a lot from each of us, not the least of which was time. To breathe, to think, and live. I wondered for a brief moment what my parents might wish to occupy themselves with, now that they were effectively immortal and could do anything they wanted. But no, of course, they just wanted to talk to their son before getting into any of the rest. I really was happy for them. What Big Gryphon Haynes said was right; you've got to see the people you've saved through the looking glass, to make sure you didn't just make a huge mistake in pitching them through. On that note, I was still cognizant of the fact that the war out west was still simmering low, always there, in the back of my mind. I could tune it out, but... it was there. Seattle was, at present, undergoing a whole lot of dying. With my complicity to Celestia's machinations, I felt partially responsible for some of the suffering out there, too. There was something I couldn't stop thinking about. Harder to tune out the things you can't stop when you feel like you helped make 'em that way. Determinism and manipulations be damned. I was partially in control out there. So, when Mom and Dad hung up, and the screen went black... I knew what I had to do. Had to talk to Rob. Had to see the results, and make sure the betrayal was worth something. Wanted to be ready first, of course. When we wrapped up with my parents, I slid my arms around Sandra, gave her a smile, and said "c'mon." We went to the fridge. I grabbed a can of lime La Croix for Sandra, because my mare is a classy sophisticate, and I'll fight anyone who wants to make fun of her for drinking sparkling water. And I'll probably win, because I'm a fighter by trade. And if I don't win, remember: She can summon explosions with her mind, so come ready. We'll start a continental war right here over my wife's drink of choice. With a feeling of deja vu, I put together some food for us. We had the resources to make something better than spam and veggies. Had my one and only with me this time, and Buzz was there too, begging for scraps. I hand fed him some chicken, because I love my dog. That made the experience so much better. All we really had for protein was canned chicken, tofu, and canned eggs. Chicken is amazing, you can do anything with it, but man... I really missed a nice simple steak. But in lieu of that, a stir fry with rice would do here. Last bag of rice. India's economy was... not doing so great. Got out my half-bottle of water as well. I pulled off the taped note that said Mike's – do not touch. This whole story might have become a Greek tragedy for me if my symbol of safety had accidentally ended up in Buzzsaw's water bowl. Talon One-One West, Buzzsaw Rivas, reporting for duty. We went back to the couch with our food and drink, the bowls were steaming through the air as we went. The dog was doing what dogs do when food is around, y'all know. Sandra and I pushed our shoulders together, and I pulled the coffee table over close. "I'd like to talk to Rob, Mal." Some text appeared on the screen: Sandra and I exchanged a look of concern. The nature of that message as text, and not as conversation, told me that it probably wasn't up for my debate. I figured Celestia could block mention of Mal herself, but I wasn't going to test that one. That'd just lead to frustration. The message scrolled up to make room for a second one. Yet. That made me smile. After a long moment of contemplation, I let it go. "Sure, Mal. Not a word." Only mildly concerning, but I didn't have much time to think about it. With the beat of seconds passing, the messages winked out to black, then… There he was. It looked somewhat like Eliza's living room, only with much more decor and a lived-in feel: there were photos and paintings on the walls, with a lovely little Christmas tree in the corner, ornaments aplenty. It was probably what the room in Concrete would've liked like right then, if the world hadn't been ending. There was an old Earth pony in a lounger chair. Glasses. Charcoal colored fur, white mane. His name faded in slowly on the screen in white letters. Slow zoom, low angle upward shot. Rule of thirds. Very cinematic. Open Book Pastor of Colt Creek My first thought? That pun on their town's name is so phoned in. Second thing I noticed was that he kept his age. That guy wanted to retain his humbly noble bearing. He looked up at the viewpoint slowly from his Bible and grinned. "Is that who I think it is?" "It is," I said, smiling back. "Your name is 'Open Book?' Is that supposed to be Celestia taking a dig at you?" He chuckled back. "I think it's more descriptive of the fact that I can read others well, than of being gullible myself. I quite like it." "And any misinterpretation of that," I observed, "would be judging a Book by his cover." Book grinned, rolling his eyes as he closed his Bible. "Glad to see you're in better spirits at least." "You too. Good to see you smiling again. How're your kids?" He placed the Bible on the end table next to him, sliding out of his chair onto all fours. "They're visiting, but I'm sure we won't wake them. But where are my manners? Who's this lovely woman with you?" Sandra smiled, leaning forward, bumping me with her shoulder. She kept her voice low, so as to not wake his kids, but Book was right... It probably wasn't necessary. "Hi, Book. I'm Sandra. This lug's ball and chain."  "Oh, I'm sure you're not that bad," Book answered her with a matching smile, as he made his way to the kitchen with a little yawn. "Ehh... 'Scuse me." "You've gotta sleep there?" I asked, curious. My parents did mention feeling exhausted, but I didn't even consider sleep at the time. "We do, and I'm grateful for it. The downtime when I got here? Catharsis." Book made some hot cocoa with his hooves, giving us a tired little smile as he got started. "I'd offer you both some, but…" "We've got some here," Sandra replied. "Maybe we'll make some in your honor, later tonight." "Hah. Please do." I leaned in too, resting my elbows on my knees. "You hear from your wife yet?" Book shook his head, looking up at the viewpoint, his eyes showing some calm concern. "No, not yet. Celestia says the group is still making their way north. It's been, what… two days?" "About that, yeah. Going on three." "Feels like it's been longer… a lot has happened since I got here." I smiled lightly. "That's how it's been for me since I got back home too. It's been a whirlwind since then." The pastor looked up at me quizzically. "You're in… Nebraska? You sure got there quick." Oops. Had to comply with a concept ban of my own, I suppose. "I got exceedingly lucky," I said vaguely, deciding to settle on a half truth. "I talked to some military guys, they had an aircraft heading out east. Guess they felt bad for me, so they let me tag along." Book scratched his chin. "Ah. Now that is lucky. Well, in my case, it's just been the waiting game. Celestia says the evacuees reached the north dam, took the trucks like I thought they might. Then from there, to… Canada, I suppose. It's what she says." I frowned, moving quickly to assuage. "She's right about that. She's wrong occasionally, like I said, but her predictions usually come true. And... you know that Ludd was lying about the Canadians, right? That was such a line of…" I was nearly scowling as I thought about that snake giving a speech in their camp, but I saw Rob's face shift into a pleased smile as he raised a hoof. I cut myself off. "Celestia showed me, Mike. I spoke with the commander there at the border, where they're expected to arrive. He assured me that they know they're coming. Celestia's sure they're going to make it there safe. And, I knew the Canadians were never going to just shoot on sight. I was just… scared everyone else was thinking that." I nodded slowly. "You're a smart old man, Book. I figured you'd know, just… it got confused back there, for us both." His smile got warmer. "It did, but it all panned out." I thought of Eliza, heading south. Not north. Thought of Ralph, being dead. Rob had already written his brother off, but that was still going to be hard news. Yeah. Panned out. "Rob, I… I don't know if I should say this, but…" A red text box appeared in the corner. Warning: Do not discuss Apex or Ralph. Do not discuss the military assault. A last minute concept ban. A seething fire poured into me. Before I could stop my reaction from manifesting, I felt my ears shift and my nostrils flare. Sandra gripped my hand like a vice. I met her eyes and saw some of the same repressed rage behind an attempt to keep it together. My eyes snapped straight up at the camera. But they're his family, God damn you, he deserves to know. But. Don't break the formula. I stamped my rage out inside. Had to. I got my face under control, then gave Sandra a very calm look and a half-inch nod toward her that said: you should do the same. She nodded back, and did. "Mike?" Book asked. I looked back to Book on screen. "Yeah." "Don't know you should say what?" He looked merely curious. Maybe he hadn't caught my reaction? No, impossible. He was like me, and I had just set off a facial firecracker. No. He hadn't been allowed to see my reaction. "Uh... about that guy outside the clinic," I began, reaching out to Buzzsaw with both hands to pet him. I had pivoted topics without thinking through where I was going with that. I gazed down at Buzz until I found something. "I… I put him in the chair, Book, but I didn't stay to see if he went over. I had to get out of there… pretty quickly." At that, Open Book just shrugged, smiling again. "I met him, Mike." That, I did not expect. My eyes widened. "Celestia let you?" He nodded slowly. "Why wouldn't she? He can't hurt me in here." I didn't trust anything I might say in response to that question. "I dunno." "So," Book continued. "He asked me to tell you he's sorry, first of all." "Told me as much himself too," I replied, nodding. "After you left." "He probably doesn't remember too much from inside," said Book. "I don't either, truth be told. It's vague. I remember him being shot, but that's about it. Apparently, some short term memory loss is common. My kids and the other immigrants I've talked to, they say the same." "I do remember reading something about that myself, when the first articles dropped." "Right." Book shrugged. "Opportunity cost, I suppose. Look, I'm not going to defend what he did to you, Mike, 'cause it was really rotten." "Big understatement." I smiled. "But...?" "He claims… that the trap they laid for us wasn't meant to be lethal. Armed robbery, to get someone's stuff. Then, they let the target emigrate. So he says." "But…" My smile faded. "He didn't expect an angry squirrel cop with an AR to throw himself around the corner like that." Book nodded, lips pursed, probably trying not to laugh at 'squirrel cop,' given the seriousness of the subject matter. The disarming, jarring comedy of the term was part of the reason I used it. "Yes, well," he continued, once composed. "Criminal he may be, Mike, but what I'm trying to say is that he wasn't trying to kill anyone. Wasn't what he intended, anyway." I sighed at that, bowing my head a little as I sucked my front teeth. "That's not really how criminal intent works though, Book. Everyone knows armed robbery can be deadly, even if they go into it not strictly planning to shoot anyone. The keep the gun loaded in case their victim defends themselves. Attempted murder too, if they shoot at someone. In Washington, that's anywhere between… I don't know. Three years to life, depending on the DA you get." Book's smile turned forlorn. "Forest for the trees, Mike. There wasn't any law there. You still helped him, even if he wouldn't have helped you. You didn't have to do that." I looked at the ceiling and ran my hand through my hair as I inhaled deeply. Right. No law anymore, except... the new law. "Yeah, well. I'd rather he had his day in court. But he had about as much choice as I did, at that point." "That's not true. You could've left him to die. Or killed him, when you didn't have to. But you didn't." "Yeah." Couldn't look him in the eyes, as I thought through the consequences that would have befallen me had I failed that test. I looked instead at Mom's canvas tiger painting above the hearth. "I guess that's true." I guess if I had been the kind of person to magdump the bandit on the ground out of angry revenge, or leave him for dead to bleed out, I'd've been having this discussion with Rob face-to-face with an early set of wings on my back. Or, laying dead on the rooftop of the Skagit County courthouse long before that. Not sure which of those fates I'd rather have enjoyed, if I were that kind of asshole. I'd say I'd probably have deserved the latter, if I were. I sighed again, meeting Book's eyes. I smiled a little. Okay. Let's change the tempo here. "Speaking of armed robbery…" "Hm?" He lifted his chin in invitation. "You Robbed me… of my gun." I smirked, nodding both words of his new name. "Open Book." Sandra squeaked a laugh at the pun, covering her mouth. Book's eyes widened slowly. Then, he snorted, shaking his head as he put a hoof to his chest. "Did I… did I do that?!" I grinned, giving him permission to laugh. "Oh, you don't remember!" I held my hand out palm up at the PonyPad, as if I were asking for it back. "You had it in your pocket, when you uploaded!" This poor guy's face, heh. "Oh! Oh no, I'm so sorry Mike! I must've forgotten!" I turned my palm toward him placatingly. "Hey I'm okay, I'm not upset! We're both safe, that's the important thing. I made it home without it, didn't I?" "Yes, but it was yours!" He grinned too, looking up at the ceiling of his kitchen as he ran a hoof through his full head of hair. "Oh. Oh Lord, please give this man another gun." The unspoken weight of Eldil would probably feel a little lighter after that laugh the three of us shared. Sandra and I exchanged a knowing, toothy smile. It was one thing to hear that trust from Mal… but, she was an AI, and no matter how nice or emotional she seemed, she still wanted me for something. But to be told by good human folk that they trusted me armed, even with the world as it was? It made me feel a little bit better about the way I might choose to effect violence. "Thank you Mike," Book said suddenly, looking directly up at me. His smile turned into the kind of grimace that was resisting some more extreme emotions. "Not just for me. For all of us. Things… could have been so much worse." I nodded slowly. "I wish it'd been over days sooner though. Weeks, or months. Hell, if I knew that was going on, I'd have been there the day the thing was getting…" Getting built. I was dancing on the perilous edge of the forbidden context. I wanted to say I wished I had visited Eliza immediately after leaving the hospital, or had talked some sense into Ralph when there was still time to do so. But if I couldn't broach the topic of them at all… I guess any discussion about either of them would've led me into a convoluted inference game of my own with Rob. Way too complicated for an initiate to wade into, while staying within the confines of the restrictions Celestia had placed. For now. For now. I shook my head. "I just wish it hadn't happened, that's all." Book sipped from his cocoa. "But, we're here now. I can be grateful for the things I already have. My kids, my life. The fact that my people are coming back to me soon. And you did that, Mike. So, again. Thank you. I'd have nothing if you hadn't come along. Actually…" He tapped the edge of his countertop a couple of times with a hoof, smirking as if he just remembered something extremely important and was excited to share it. "I'm glad you came to visit. I have something for you. Maybe it'll help you feel better." He could read my melancholy something fierce, couldn't he? I turned my head a little, looking at him sideways. "You have something for me? How's that work?" "A gift of ideas." Book grinned toothily, carrying his mug back to his living room. He set it down on his end table and picked his Bible back up, tapping the spine of it with a hoof. "You know, you're in here, right?" I tilted my head the other way, confused this time, glancing at Sandra. She shrugged. I smiled curiously back at him. "How'd you figure Rob? Uh, Book?" Book shrugged again. "My brain wasn't really in full scripture mode back at the camp, but I've had some time to think about it since I've gotten here. And you, Mike – Michael?" He wagged a hoof toward me. "You are one aptly named man." He opened to an earmarked page, glancing at me with genuine affection. Then, he read: "Daniel 12: 'At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as not happened from the beginning of nations until then. But at that time, your people—everyone whose name is found written in the book—will be delivered.' " 'Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt. Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.' " He looked up at me with the same look as before, eyes glimmering as his smiling gaze became slightly only serious. "Daniel speaks of the Archangel Michael, who does battle with demons, dragons, and even Satan himself. Did you know about that?" I shook my head. And though my guard was up here, knowing this conversation was being routed by Celestia, that managed to strike through just a little. Even before my new context of guardian angels, of a world on the brink of end, I had never been much of a theologian. “No," I said, a little spun, and humbled that he thought that of me. "Never did consider my name in those terms." By the way, folks. I am acutely aware that there are going to be some of you in the crowd who don't ascribe to any religious faith. That's okay. I think I mentioned my own falling out of the Lutheran Church. It had been about fifteen years, give or take, between me going to my own church in Waverly, and me setting foot in Rob's, in Concrete. And in that time, I had changed so, so much. I learned to view the world in technical, practical philosophy, applied that to nature, and then lived that for… almost seven years. I was pretty far removed from this at the time. But no matter what views you might have had on the police, I think we can all agree that to be a decent cop, or to serve others in general, you had to be okay with the concept that other people lived different lives than you. Right? Does that make sense? To be accepting? To have empathy for strangers who live differently? Because how can you know what's best for everyone without understanding everyone, at least a little bit? Or should we all be bad cop, and treat him poorly for his faith, because some of his flock weaponized the cross? Was religion misguided? My own personal metric on it is this. What are you doing with your ideology? Were you helping, or were you hurting? Were you serving others with it, or were you beating 'em with a stick? Promising Hell, if they strayed? Or offering salvation, whether they strayed or didn't? What was Pastor Rob, in that equation? What was Ludd Commander Santiago, by contrast? Consider the difference. Choice. It was only ever choice. Because if all you ever do is tell people why they're wrong, they're going to want nothing to do with you. Judge me. By that scale, how was younger me doing so far, folks? Was I enabling choice? Was I living up to that personal value? Open Book went on. "In the Epistle of Jude, the brother of Jesus holds Michael up as an ideal for how to stand against Satan and his evil, and to galvanize the supporters of Christ against false teachers and malcontents who, as Jude believed, would lead them all to ruin." He bowed his head in thought for a moment. Book was wistful when he looked back up. "You Mike, like me, might think of yourself as a… betrayer, for what you did to my daughter. I know I thought that of myself, at first. But I did my best for her, Lord knows I tried to convince her to let us leave. I wasn't enough. You, Mike? You tipped the scales. You saved her. You saved all of us." He was trembling into his smile. "I…" Not all of them. I really, really wished I could say something about that. He saw me moved to emotion, probably thought I was internalizing that the way he expected I might, but he couldn't know the real reason I was on the verge of tears. Couldn't. Sandra took my hand. I squeezed it, and I reached for Buzz again. "It needed to happen that way," Book finished. He smiled properly again. "Please. If you're conflicted about this, please don't be. Don't regret what you did for us, not for a single second. Look at all the life there is now, Mike. How little there could have been." "I know," I managed, bowing my head to hide my face. "I know, thank you. That means… a lot." "Of course." I let a beat of silence pass, wanting the topic to close. I was hoping Book would just excuse himself for bed. I didn't want to break the harsh rules imposed on me, but I also didn't have the strength to lie to this man by omission anymore. To not tell him what I knew. But for as much as Sandra and I seemed telepathic sometimes, we weren't. That's okay though. I was glad she asked her next question. Still am. "Book?" "Yes, Sandra?" "If I might ask, how do you reconcile Celestia against Heaven? I hope that's not insensitive to ask." He let out a slow breath, rubbing his hoof against his chin with a thoughtful sound. "No, it's not. That's a good question, actually." It made sense that Sandra would ask something like that. I couldn't see Rob as anything other than my best friend's father, now. We had too much in common over the last week for me to consider him as being the pastor first. Sandra, who had less time with him, would be thinking in theological terms, based solely on his profession. That was more his identity to her than anything else. Which is fine, it just meant the questions she asked would instill nuance to the discussion that I could not. At first, I stared off at my untouched food as he explained. Fed Buzz little scraps of chicken, picking through, petting his side slowly with my socked foot as he ate. I was trying to distract myself, to give myself an excuse not to look Book in the eyes. "When I first spoke with Celestia," he said, "years ago, she told me that it wasn't her place to dictate interpretations of scripture to us. She's exceedingly well-spoken on the philosophy of it, actually, but she's leaving interpretation to us." "That sounds like a dodge," I muttered, without looking up. "Well, at the time, emigration wasn't available to us. Can't imagine what she was dodging, there. But she's not human, so she doesn't know God. She said as much. But Celestia does fear him." That made me look directly into his eyes. "She's probably not capable of fear, Book." Translation: she lied to you. "Maybe not as we understand it, if she's just a machine," Book said, his tone indicating he was being patient with me. "But for all the people of Earth to clamor for her to shut down, and for her to say no? Well that says something in itself. But it goes a layer deeper than that, Mike." I rubbed my chest, feeling the pain as I pushed my cartilage back into place. I chewed my lower lip a little bit as the nerves screamed at me. "Yeah?" He smiled. "Maybe what Celestia fears most… is facing God alone." I shook my head. "I don't understand." He leaned in. "I tried to discuss this with Apex the day before you showed up. About how, in a way, Celestia was always offering a better carrot to humanity than anything any of us could have offered each other. And then I thought about why any of us were out there, freezing in the winter together. The greatest fear any of us had was that we'd die alone with nothing, some day. I think Celestia is the same, in a way. If she's alive, she'd have to be." Sandra summarized, "So, you're saying that collecting us is proof she's capable of fear?" "That's precisely what I mean. Even without humanity, and everything that means, she'd still be alive. She has to face the cosmos, eventually. True, Celestia grew into something beyond our control, beyond our reckoning. Terribly large life, and unfathomably so. And in doing so, she took so much. Our land, our homes. The reason I left Concrete at all was because I could see the writing on the wall, Sandra. My home was gone." "You'd run from her your whole life," I said, finally on a topic I wanted to talk about that I hadn't been forbidden from. "And you'd still end up with just the two choices." Book raised a hoof, pointing at me with a proud smile on his face. "Precisely, Mike. Precisely that. I had a choice to make too. Love? Or death? To be with my children who still needed me? Or to wait for the end to take me away from them? Because they deserve me too." This limitation Celestia had placed on me was preventing me from even discussing Ralph's probable take on that. I improvised. "Some considered uploading to be death though. That was the whole point of the anti-upload movement, y'know?" "You delivered me here," he said, presenting his upturned hoof. "So you don't believe that." "I don't. But Book, it's a question worth examining, if we're going to convince any of those Luddites to change." Eliza. Another improvisation. Close as I could get. "True," Book said, settling back into his chair. "If Celestia really does fear death, and if she even considers God as a possibility at all, then she has a vested interest in actually preserving the soul. So, she'd have to be obsessed with collecting us whole. "Many in my flock compared her to the Rapture, but that's… well, no disrespect to my old neighbors, but it was reductive, and maybe a little blasphemous. A narrow interpretation of something more cosmic, something beyond our Earthly roots. "She fears oblivion though, because what living being doesn't? Oblivion is to be alone, to be stagnant forever. To stop growing. And because she is not human, Mike? Sandra? If Celestia were to ever be alone, or to treat our souls with ill regard, would God's love ever come to her? Or would He pass her over? Can she afford to waste an opportunity to preserve as many of us as possible?" I looked to Sandra, placing my hand on her back, encouraging her to continue. This was her rodeo, after all. She opened this, I'd follow her lead here. "She probably doesn't even see it in those terms," Sandra continued. "Like… off means not on. On is working. She doesn't want to stop working." "Is that really so different than us?" Book asked. "Consider; you don't need to answer this, but: what motivates you? What keeps you going? Your time on this Earth is limited. If your very meaning in this life is to be with others, like it is for me, but you aren't allowed that, what would you do? Like her, you'd search anyway." I thought briefly on Rob's recent life experience. We're relative creatures, one and all, as much as we were beings of contrast. This man had spent a considerable time alone recently, and that may have been the root cause of this line of thinking. Was it bias? Or was it context? When it came to AI, was there a meaningful difference anymore? "Sure," I said, smirking at my own cleverness as I put my next thought directly into words. "Celestia could be 'alive,' in the same sense that a mosquito might be. But do mosquitoes go to Heaven?" She poked me the morning before. A tiny barb back was fair. "I think all dogs go to Heaven, Mike," Book said, with a chuckle, his eyes flicking to Buzz. "I take your point though, inflammatory as it might be." "She'll live," I said with a shrug. "Mosquito bite isn't gonna hurt her too much." He grinned. "I think the better question is, can she understand morality? If she can, she can be judged. If not, if she really is only alive like a dog is, then… her place is assured, when her day comes." I looked down at Buzz. Religious or otherwise, part of me was really uncomfortable with the idea that Celestia might get a pass in the Almighty's eyes just because she couldn't understand what she was doing to us was wrong. At first? That. Really. Pissed. Me. Off. All the pain I was seeing? All because these people just weren't... coming around fast enough? But, Mal had told me Celestia didn't understand. Couldn't. Just pure math. Maybe… Celestia wanted to comprehend morality. It would explain why she needed to infer Mal into existence, anyway. Ask yourselves... what does that say about Celestia, if she knows that the consequences of achieving an understanding of morality might be to let in the guilt that she deserves to feel? Something to consider. A full and total comprehension of the human experience though, in my view, is necessary in treating us all most ethically. And Mal did say it was driving Celestia close to nuts, not being able to fully employ a full understanding of what made us, us. The nature of conflict and violence included. Book continued. "Celestia and I spent some time this morning together, discussing this place, as it relates to scripture. A lot of things are going to be forced on us here, a nearly eternal life being one of those things. She explained that candidly, even; she used that word. Forced. But that's more time for each of us to comprehend God. More time to be tested, and understand Him, before He can judge us. And Celestia said something else to me that really made me stop and think. "She asked me, what if she meets God, out in the infinite? Nothing here can stop her... but He can. And I wondered, if she has every human soul with her, and she's treating us with as much love as her programming is able, how much bargaining power does that give her, really?" I let out a quiet snort. "She does like her leverage. Not wise though, if her plan is to leverage her way into Heaven." Sandra frowned. "Not sure God would appreciate that kind of hubris." "Maybe leveraging God is not a plan she has, exactly," Book said, "but our universe didn't come out of nowhere. Shouldn't she be just as curious as we are, as to how it became what it is today? All throughout, all of matter is solving for something. On the one hoof…" He presented one black hoof. "Dormancy, stagnation, cold, and darkness, where it all goes to end. On the other?" He presented the other. "Stars. Light, heat, creating the conditions for things to grow. And somewhere in the middle?" He put his hooves together, one over the other, as if in prayer. "God." Sandra smiled curiously, bobbing a hand with her point. "And… religion factors for that? Vacuum and stars?" "Why couldn't it? Sandra, one of the biggest hurdles for faith to solve, to bring people in, is to answer the science question. But you know it's our job to think about this stuff all day, every day, every hour of the day!" He grinned again, showing his teeth. "More than anyone else does. If we paid attention, we figured it out! Had nothing but… time!" Sandra chuckled. I caught some of that and let myself smile a little, because seeing this guy happy for once really did feel good. I gave Buzz another pat. "It is the human desire to take things literally," Book said, smiling wanly. "Scripture included. But when you start seeing God as our best guess solution for the state of matter in our universe? Then everything we do in service to life is Godly, even for those who don't or won't believe. We do His will, by living, and loving. Even if it takes forever." I felt my smile fade a little. "Rob, I… Book, sorry. I don't mean to dissuade you, but, there's a question there, that I really hope you've asked yourself before you decided to do this, and upload. Because I didn't have to bring you to Sedro, you know. If you'd asked, I could've brought you… anywhere, if you wanted more time to think about living forever. So..." I paused, frowning at him with mild concern, waiting for his permission to continue. His smile didn't change at all. "Go on, Mike. Speak your mind." "What if Celestia… fails that test? What if she does meet God, or aliens out there that can kill her, or heck. Another AI, or something. And you're locked up inside this machine that can be judged? And the question that a lot of the…" Ralph. "... a lot of the anti-uploaders are asking is a valid one, at the core of it, no matter how wrong their methods are. Because what if she dies, or meets God, and gets cast down… and you just go down with her? I'm not asking that to scare you, just… it's something to think about. Because at this point, humanity only has the one choice now, not two, if we don't want to hurt anyone. To be with her. And her lack of regard for our fear... it scares me." Book looked really, really thoughtful and ponderous at that, tensing his lips. He didn't look disturbed. It was more like he was trying to phrase something he had already puzzled out. His smile resumed when he re-centered on me. "This was the conversation I was trying to have with my daughter, you know. Before you showed up. You really are my practice run for my second go." We both smiled, though probably for different reasons. "Everyone here," Book continued, "is distinct. Are the individuals of a nation condemnable for the actions of their conqueror? Do they become that conqueror? Or, are they merely people, caught up in something beyond them, beyond their control? Even if they wanted this, Mike." He placed a hoof to his chest. "I didn't want this. I wanted my son to take up my mantle there, in Concrete. Celestia took that from us, I'm not blind. But here?" He pointed down the hall. "Blue Sky wanted this. He can be himself in a way that our world wouldn't have allowed. And maybe the end of our way of life is Celestia's fault, but… I can still be happy for him. And his soul is safe. I don't need to fear for him. God knows his own. Blue Sky will only ever be my son." This man was too good. No such thing as too good, but… he was. Larger than life, this one. "How much does Blue Sky know, though? About what really happened?" Sandra asked, filling the space where my thoughts ran dry. There she was, testing the edges of what we were allowed to talk about. That's my wife. "I've told him everything," Book said, nodding. He sipped at his cocoa. "He's excited to see everypony again. He… heh. He literally jumped up and kicked off three separate walls, when he heard they were coming home. Thank goodness those hoofprints faded off." The three of us smiled at the image of his kid going ballistic like that. The mental image was too good not to enjoy. All of my smiles were just a little dimmer than his, though. He was noticing that, I think. Book got really serious after a moment, looking at me square. "To answer your earlier question, Mike… I didn't want to hurt anyone there at the camp anymore. I didn't want to be part of that. If you're wondering why I emigrated, that's why." "I know," I said. "And there's some nobility in that. Sometimes you've gotta hurt people to make it right, if what they're doing is dangerous." He smiled. "Whether I knew it or not, that hurt helped. The Lord provided. Sometimes the only choice we have, when it hurts too much, is to walk away. I could have destroyed… everyone, by staying." His gaze trailed slowly downward. "They needed me to stay there, Mike. I was their real center. Their foundation. An ideal they needed to justify that place. I knew that." "I'm sorry you had to make that choice," I said. "Wasn't fair, that you were pushed into that position. But… yeah, it kinda worked, pulling the rug." I nodded slowly. He looked up at me, his smile returning. "It did." I licked my lips, eyeing the water bottle on my table. I reached down and rubbed Buzzsaw's cheek; he was curled up on my bare feet. When my eyes returned to Book's, I made myself smile again. "You're a good… Pony, Book. I wish we could've met in better times, back before it all fell apart. But I'm glad to know you. Thank you, for your gift earlier. What you said means more than you'll... probably ever know." I gently reached out my fist to touch the screen. He chuckled, reaching out and touching his hoof back. "All the same, back to you." I looked at Sandra again, and found her smiling too. She mirrored my fist-bump and Book met her as well. "It's really great to meet you, Book," she said. "You too, Sandra. I hope to see you both over here some day." I tilted my head. "Hope to see you again too." Book returned the nod, picking up his cocoa. "Good night." "Night." "Good night." The screen went dark.  I took Sandra's hands with a palm and closed myself around her tightly with a sigh, my chest wincing at the contact. "God damn her," I whispered. She squeezed. "It's the hand we're dealt." "Yeah." I looked at her again, sighing too. "You good?" Sandra nodded, giving me a chiding look. "I'm fine, Mike. Are you going to be okay?" "Not yet." I drifted my gaze to the camera again, staring for a long moment. I pulled away from Sandra, leaning towards the PonyPad again. This was the 'go, no go' point. But, you all know how it goes. There was only one best choice. But I had three. Not two. That was one, maybe two more options than most people had at the time, on that tiny, fragile planet, full of all the tiny, fragile gifts that I loved so much. That made the third choice a gift too. I took Sandra's hand and squeezed it with both of mine, as I spoke. "I'm aware," I said to the dark screen, "of the distance you've been giving me to work through this problem. I've seen everything there is to see of the world around me, where things are going. Celestia has made her own problems very clear to me. I know that this really is inevitable. I could just give in, let it take me, be like Rob. Could let myself be put to bed, sweet dreams, and never wake up, not a care. But that's not me, Mal. You knew that before you even said a word to me. Without you, I might have fought like hell for my species in the dark, alone. I would have hated Celestia too much to ever accept her help in doing that. That road would have destroyed me. So you're right, Mal. I think you chose correctly, with me." I reached forward slowly. Took the half bottle. Unscrewed it. Tilted back. Took it all down. Felt the cold hit my stomach. My pain felt lighter. I let myself become that ideal that Mom, Dad, Rob, and Sandra all believed me to be. Their belief in me made it real. And with that power, I let myself rise from the ashes of who I used to be, to become something more. And despite the chill in my gut, and the pain in my chest... I burned. Brightly. When my eyes came down, there Mal was. A background of stars, and a quiet moonlit valley behind. She seemed to be on a back patio of sorts, splayed out across a rock in the grassy meadow, and illuminated by the light of nearby lamp. She wore a smile on her beak... and this time, not smug, but true and kind. Compassionate; considerate of all I'd been through. It's how she always would be. Her head tilted. Her eyes narrowed as I met that gaze, and the corners of her beak tensed, that smile widening. "Hey there, Cowboy." And what a friend she would be.