//------------------------------// // 1. The Choice // Story: Spike and the Methods of Rationality // by Architect Ironturtle //------------------------------// Spike sprawled back onto his bed with a contented sigh, holding The Methods of Rationality in one claw and his Rarity plush close to his chest with the other. With a lazy yawn he opened the book and flipped to the correct page. He figured if somepony had gone to all the trouble of highlighting a particular passage he might as well start there first, as he didn't exactly have anything telling him otherwise. He wriggled around until he got comfortable, then began to read as he scratched the plush behind the ears. Hello, good sir or madam, whichever you may happen to be. If you are reading this then you have found one of the few remaining copies of my life's work, a complete (as complete as I can make it, anyway) study on the process of intelligent thought: how it works, what it does well, what its weaknesses are, and how to improve it. The Methods of Rationality, as I have come to call the ideas collectively, are a tool, multi, if not omni, purpose, that is used not by your hooves, claws, paws, or magic, but your mind. They are a series of thought patterns and logical techniques used to banish lies and reveal the truth. They can be applied to any task, be it as simple as opening a door or as complex as constructing a palace, and make achieving that goal much easier. They know not species, or class, or wealth, or status, only whether the mind in question is open and willing. Given that these claims are quite substantial and my name is highly unusual, you're probably wondering why you've never heard of me before. Surely if what I have written was true, it would be in use by every creature in existence, would it not? Unfortunately, that is obviously not the case. The Princesses (or Princess, singular, now) have been rather thorough in purging my works from their society, and since they dominate the world the other nations have done likewise in an attempt to maintain their favor. This does not, however, mean that my work is "evil," or "wrong," anymore than a hammer is evil when used to smash a flawed vase. The ponies actually have a very solid reason, from their perspective, to shun the Methods, and frankly I can't blame them for it. Pony culture is based around creating and maintaining Harmony, which can be best defined as a potent combination of peace, joy, and love, carefully mixed in the right amounts to allow for a full and happy life. This is an admirable philosophy, one I strive for myself and that is second only to my pursuit of truth and knowledge. In fact, were this a better world we would never have come into conflict. The problem is that much of Harmony as the ponies know it is built on ignorance and deception. The ponies are at peace when they should prepare to fight, are joyous when they should morn, and love that which cannot love them back. The purpose of the Methods is to destroy lies and misconceptions, then replace them with ideas that are closer to the truth until those ideas are discarded in turn in favor of ones that are better still. The problem arises when the Methods destroy a falsehood that was used to create Harmony. From the pony's perspective, my work made them unhappy, therefore it must be bad. They don't care that they shouldn't have been happy in the first place: the Methods attacked their Harmony, therefore they must be removed. This is what they do with every issue they've ever faced: they seal it away and pretend it doesn't exist. Discord, Tirek, Sombra, Nightmare Moon, The Changlings, the list goes on. In a way, they are the phrase "Ignorance is bliss" given sapient form. With that in mind, if you are a pony, or know you are completely happy with your life as it is, put this book back where you found it and leave it for someone else to find. You will (hopefully) find nothing but truth in the words I've written, and the truth will destroy any joy of yours that is built on lies, leaving your Harmony in shambles. However, if you are not happy with your life, the state of the world as it is, your place in the world, or you are simply too curious to leave the book alone, then turn to chapter one and may you learn my lessons well. You will have just as much to gain, and far less to lose. Be warned of two things: First, if the princesses (or princess) find this book, they will confiscate or destroy it for the reasons listed above. Keep it safe, and if you absolutely must show it to them, make a backup copy beforehand so that my knowledge is not lost. Second, once you start down this path you will not be able to return to your old life. You will have tasted the fruit of the tree of Knowledge, and everyone who has eaten always came back for more. So it was in my village, so it is now, and so it will be until the end of days. May the stars forever light your path, Eye the Ewe, curator of the Ewellinois library. Spike stared at the page for a long minute after he'd finished reading, then stood, stretched, carefully placed the Rarity plush on his pillow, and started walking down the stairs to the dungeon to stick the book back in the alcove. He was perfectly happy with his life as it was (no seriously, he was), and he didn't feel the need to mess with that. He had to admit the book had a point though. Disagreements, monsters, and other such problems were generally ignored by ponies unless they became unavoidable. Resentment was hidden, white-lies were told, conflicts were smoothed over, and everypony maintained a veneer of happiness as best they could right up until something punched straight through it and revealed everything the ponies had locked away. He hadn't heard of any of the threats Twilight and her friends had faced until those threats were already attacking, or very shortly beforehand, and that was an easy example. He mentally scoffed at the idea of Twilight destroying any book, even one that was supposedly "dangerous" as he placed the text in its hidey hole, but the other Princesses he wasn't so sure about. He knew Princess Celestia was an extremely good ruler, and as such she had to have made calls that not everypony would always agree with. If she thought the happiness of her subjects was threatened, the chances of her banning a book went from "never" to "possible," and there was no telling what Luna or Cadance would do in that situation. They could help, or hurt, or do nothing, and Spike had no way to tell which it would be. Since he couldn't lift the stone back up to seal the wall, he decided that it was good enough as it was and went to get ready for bed. He had the castle to himself for a few days, after all, and he wasn't planning on wasting it. 88888888 Spike slept fitfully, and woke up the next day tired and much earlier than usual. A quick raid on Twilight's emergency coffee stash (helpfully labeled NOT FOR SPIKE in big red letters) fixed the first problem, and Spike took advantage of the second by going up to the roof to watch the sunrise. Ever since he'd read that preface letter, the question it brought up had been bugging him, causing his disturbed slumber, and no amount of mental singing was able to make it go away. Was he really happy? It was such a simple question, but the answer was anything but. He had friends, a family, a very nice roof over his head, and all the gems he could eat. Wasn't that enough? Sure, Rarity never gave any hint that she might love him back someday, and Twilight had gotten insanely busy recently, and he seemed to be the butt of the universe at times, getting smacked around for no discernible reason, and whenever he tried something new it always turned out badly, but that shouldn't change anything! Should it? He searched his mind and heart for the comfort of joy, something he knew he'd felt before and could easily recognize again. And yet, as the first golden rays of the light of the sun bounced off his scales, the fiery orb peaking over the horizon between the cliffs for a moment before it rose in a fiery arc that suggested Celestia felt like showing off this morning, an icy realization washed over Spike that completely negated the morning's warmth. He was not happy, and had not been so for quite some time. He'd been happy before, back when he could barely speak and it was just Twilight, him, and her family, but ever since they'd moved to Ponyville his happiness had slowly dripped away. He'd lost a little on his birthday, a bit more when Owlowlicious moved in, more still with his dragon code and that disastrous attempt to join the dragon migration, and countless other times where his goals had been denied, or he'd just gotten hit with something out of nowhere. To top it all off, the one time he'd actually gotten even a smidgen of respect and power he ended up abusing it horribly and everything exploded in his face. Sure the Crystal Empire had turned out well, but that was at Twilight's prompting, not his own volition. With a start, he realized he wasn't just not happy, he was pissed. Pissed at the universe for seeming to take pleasure from his torment, and pissed at himself for every mistake he'd ever made, every stupid decision, every missed opportunity, and every lapse in judgement. He did not like his place in the world, and now that he knew that, he wasn't just going to sit there and take whatever abuse life felt like sending his way. With that thought, his choice crystallized, and he rushed for the dungeons get the book back, almost falling off the roof because of his speed. If the book was what Eye claimed it to be, it could be his ticket to a life where he was respected, one where he made stuff happen, instead of stuff happening to him. Upon reaching the nook he hopped up on the stone block and almost tore the cover in his haste to grab the text, and raced back to his room to read it. As he dashed into the room and towards his bed his foot struck the Rarity plush that was his secret pride and joy, his carelessness sending it careening against the wall. He'd found a drive like nothing he'd ever experienced before, and as he found the page he was looking for, titled "What is Rationality and Why is it Useful?" he failed to notice he had grown an eighth of an inch.