LEFTOVERS
By Chatoyance
1. Thaw
He gradually became aware that he was staring at his hands. His hands were in front of him, just above his belly button, and he was holding them palms upright. His belly hairs tickled his wrists. He closed his hands into fists, then opened them again. He did this several times. He could see his toes, far below, and briefly focused on them, and then on his junk. He was naked, but he did not feel cold. Nor warm. The temperature was perfectly neutral.
There were other feet, and legs, beside him, to the left and right. On his right, the legs looked shaved, on the left, legs far more hirsuit than his own covered pale flesh in a fuzzy, dark web. He noticed bare buttocks in front of him, lower down. He was standing beside naked people on a level step, there was another level of just as naked people one step below his own.
He turned his hands over. His dark knuckles wrinkled as he flexed his fingers. He felt dazed, unable to think, as if he had just awoken from the deepest of sleeps. He took a breath, the air making a soft sound as he sucked it past his own teeth and lips.
More awake now, his circumstances began to dawn fully upon his mind. He jerked his head upright, from where he had been slumped forward, and quickly searched the environment with increasingly worried eyes.
It was dark outside, straight ahead. Pitch black, beyond the people around him. If there were walls, he could not make them out. It felt, to his feet, as if he were standing on marble, perhaps, or a hard plastic. His soles felt a surface, smooth, yet not frictionless. Around him, on three levels, were at least a hundred naked people. Men and women, children too, of almost every age... though there were no toddlers. The youngest child seemed to be around nine, perhaps. The oldest in the group could have been in their nineties, or even above. All were standing upright, about a meter apart, within a large, three-tiered circle. Everyone seemed to be equally unsteady. He watched as one woman clearly went through the same process he had just gone through. When she finally raised her head with a start, she began rapidly turning her head, looking this way and that.
Everyone was well lit, from above. Everyone could see everyone else, clearly, in the circle. The people had been arranged so that the shortest were on the lowest level, the tallest on the upper tier of the... stadium? Pit? Circular stairs? The staging seemed deliberate. The light was harsh, clinical. He looked up to find the source. There was none. No brightness above, just absolute black, the same as the walls, if there were walls.
This bothered him, it disturbed something deep inside him. There was bright, hospital quality light shining down, but the 'ceiling', if that is what was up there, had no bulbs, panels, or any source for that light. It was unnatural. He forgot his nakedness, he forgot the strangeness of his situation and hunted for anything that could be generating the stark illumination. There was nothing, nothing at all. The light was coming from nowhere. It just was.
He noticed his breathing was faster. There was a tickle, a tingle, on the back of his neck. He smelled his own sweat now, faintly, but very much there. Finally, as his mind became clear, truly clear, the strangeness of it all fully impacted him. Nobody was trying to leave. All those people, just standing in three circles, on three round steps, and not one of them was budging from where they stood.
He turned around, to find himself nose to belly with a bloated, aged stomach. The lower part was covered in sparse, curling hair. The older man stood above him, on the third, highest step. He wanted out, he wanted to find a door. "Excuse me!" He tried to push past the old man, to place his foot up on the higher step, to get to the top, but he couldn't. He couldn't step up, he couldn't move forward. No matter how hard he tried, he could not move away from where he stood.
He spun in place and attempted to step down, past the young woman below him. "Excuse me! Let me through!" He noticed the panic in his own voice, and the way his breathing was faster still. His legs worked. His feet moved. But he couldn't step down. He tried to the side, attempting to barge through the older woman on his right. He couldn't, and he could not understand why. He raised his arms, his hands. He made a fist in panic, to hit, or to push. No matter what he tried, or did, he literally could not make the motions that would drive him beyond where he stood. He could not touch any of the people around him. His hands moved toward them, but as they drew close, it felt like his muscles lost power, as if his limbs just gave up trying on their own. After a certain point, his own body would not obey him. It did not shut down, or become clumsy, his legs and arms did not act apart from his wishes. They just would not, could not, interfere with anyone beyond him, nor propel him beyond his little meter-square of whatever he stood upon.
He jerked, a full body shock of surprise and fear. He was in no danger of falling or tripping, something he could not explain even to himself. Somebody was yelling, screaming, in terror. Somebody that was not him, somebody not far from where he helplessly stood.
"WHAT'S GOING ON?" The man was young, probably in his twenties. "I CAN'T MOVE!" The man had a short van dyke, brown hairs upon his young face. "I mean I can move, I'm moving right now, only I CAN'T WALK ANYWHERE! GET OUT OF MY WAY! MOVE! STOP BLOCKING ME!"
The frightened man kept repeating himself, clearly attempting, over and over to walk, to run, anywhere, at all. He simply could not accomplish the task. In his terror, he had chosen to blame those around him for the failure of his own limbs.
"I CAN'T MOVE EITHER!" Another man began to shout. And another. The chamber erupted in cries and calls, shouts and proclamations. He found himself shouting too, along with the others. He couldn't help himself. The fear was contageous, the situation impossible.
A piercing whistle, nearly deafening in power, silenced the room. People put fingers in their ears, and rubbed and twisted.
"OY!" the woman was rotund and looked as if she had recently been very unwell. "That's better! Screaming like a bunch of ninnies isn't going to help anything!" She took several breaths. The smell of frightened people was nearly overwhelming. The air seemed stale as well. "We can't leave, that's been established. Fine. Okay. Why are we here? Anybody know?" She turned to a middle-aged man to her left. "You! What's the last thing you remember?"
"What?" The man was bald, very bald. Even his body appeared shaved.
"Where were you, before you were here?" The woman was clearly using anger in order to not feel her own fear. "Before now, before you were here, wherever this is. Where were you right before being here?"
The very hairless man seemed stunned by the question. He slapped his forehead several times. He squirmed in place. "I don't... no, I do... I was... I was in a hospital. Doctors. No..." The man rubbed his eyes. "Hospice. I was in a hospice... no, that was before. Then I was in a hospital. I wasn't very aware, then. It's all... it's all blurry."
A man to the far right raised his hand. "Anyone here from Alcor?" He waved. "Alcor? Anybody from Alcor?"
"CryoSpan!" An elderly lady called out from the lower ring. She was short, and also very bald. She stood hunched, desperately trying to cover both her bottom and her top simultaneously. "I was set up for CryoSpan!"
"TransTime!" Shouted a portly man with a beard. He held both of his hands low, to cover himself as best he could.
"I'm Alcor! Alcor UK!" The man was thin, very thin, and had thinning hair. He stood like he was a lifelong naturalist, unashamed.
The portly woman who had whistled nodded. "Cryonics Association of Australia. My children said they set it up. Chloe? Amelia? Are you here? CHLOE??"
"I'm Chloe." The girl was perhaps eleven. "But I don't know you. Who are you?"
"CHLOE? AMELIA?" The woman kept calling out the names for a short while, then fell silent, sobbing.
He spoke. "I'm Alcor. I was paid up. I got a brain tumor. I don't remember much after that. Hospital, obvously. I don't remember being frozen. Name's Lewis."
The woman beside him on the middle step, arms folded to cover her breasts, turned her head. "You wouldn't. At least, I don't think you would. They told me that we might lose things. They didn't know how much, or what." The corners of her eyes crinkled, her mouth puckered slightly. "I'm sorry. I don't remember either. Not anything. I don't even remember getting sick or anything at all. My name's Imogen, by the way." She turned away for a brief time. "My husband... Robert... was really into all of that freezing stuff. I remember that. Is that what... did he...? How?"
"I'm Olivia Turner." The woman who had whistled introduced herself. "Aussie, born and raised, as if you can't tell. I think I'm spunky, but... I'm not sure I'm up for this..." she looked at her feet "Whatever this is."
"Jayden" The twenty-something with facial hair gave an embarrased wave. "Sorry for freaking out, there... I don't usually freak out. I'm usually pretty good in a crisis. It's just a little... you know..."
"I'm Bouchard" The man rubbed his very bald head with a hairless hand. "Antoine Bouchard. I'm from Gatineau. I had the cancer."
"Me too!" The stout man with the full beard held up his fist in solidarity, as if cancer were a club or a sports team. "Call me Issac. I'm from Canada too. Toronto. Go Leafs!"
Antoine laughed.
"I'm..." She tried to stand taller, but it was clear that her first priorty was keeping herself covered with her hands and arms. Her thigh wrinkles sagged and wobbled, while her bald head shone under the invisible lights. "I'm missus... just call me Isabelle. I'm Isabelle." She juggled her flesh to keep it hidden, but it was a losing battle.
Lewis had no time for modesty. All of this felt increasingly like a trap to him. "Everyone!"
One hundred and thirteen people turned their attention to him. "Introductions can wait. The important question..." He ran his fingers through the tight coils of his short, dark brown hair. "...the question is, what is this place? Does anybody know anything? I'm thinking..." he looked around at the crowd that encircled a large empty space "I'm guessing that everyone here was cryopreserved. We're all meatsicles. Am I right?"
"I don't know! I don't remember anything!" Imogen shrugged her naked shoulders. "I mean, my Robert was interested, but..."
"That's good enough... Imogen." Lewis inwardly congratulated himself on remembering the woman's name. He turned his attention to the crowd "We're either signed up popsicles, or we had friends, family, that were oriented in that direction. I'm betting that anyone who can remember anything used to be sick. I'm not sick now, and I don't think you are either. Not anymore."
Murmurs rippled around the room. Assents and acknoledgments, descriptions of illnesses. Cancer was common, along with heart disease and old age. Emphysema. A woman named Cassie vaguely remembered being in a crash of some kind.
Olivia whistled again. Ears were prodded again.
Lewis gave a nod at Olivia. "So, we're back. Whatever this is, it's what comes after. Anyone notice the lights?"
One hundred and thirteen people began searching the space above them. It was black, like the 'walls', black like ink, black like closed eyes.
"There's nothing!" Jaden stroked his Van Dyke. "Nothing at all. No light sources." His beard seemed to fascinate him. "But there's light!"
"Exactly." Lewis pointed at the 'ceiling'. "No seams, no panels, and no light sources. Everything is just black. No struts, beams, or supports. No nothing."
"Maybe... maybe it's a really big room?" Little Chloe shuffled, her hands clutched tight to her pelvis. She stared at her feet.
"It's a thought..." Lewis felt sorry for the little girl, but then there were a lot of children, boys and girls both, mostly on the lowest tier. Some just kept crying, softly, others had sat on the dark whatever that counted as a floor. "But I don't think so. Lights have to have a source. In the real world, at any rate."
"The real... world?" Imogen, to his right, narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, fuuuu..." Jayden lowered his hands where he had been sheltering his eyes as if that would somehow help him find the nonexistant spotlights above. "Just... god. I see where you're going with that. Damn..."
"What about the lights, what are you talking abou..." Issac did not have time to finish.
In the middle of the chamber, in the large circular space around which all one hundred and thirteen people stood or sat, something was happening. The children, and those among the adults too, stopped quietly sobbing at the sight.
A sphere, small at first, began to expand. It was filled with light and color, and increasingly with sound. It was like a television program, some thought. In seconds the sphere became massive, filling the center of the three rings of steps that held the crowd of naked humans. The sphere was a hole, a window into another world. It was clear, and open, and they could feel breezes from it. Their nostrils filled with the scents of breads and flowers, pies and cakes and vegetable stews bubbling in hidden pots. The sound was that of a crowd, a market, busy and filled with idle snippets of conversations, laughter, and the odd shout of excitement.
The portal tracked until it centered on two amidst the large market crowd.
"Get the pie! It's pumpkin, your favorite. And missus Pumpernickel is just the best. I can carry it! I'll balance it on my head. You know I can!"
"Alright, fine. You win. I love her pie. I want that pie."
Lewis - and one hundred and thirteen other people - gasped or swore, or stood rigid in shock and surprise. The marketplace was not filled with humans. The two that the strange, round window had chosen to focus on were beastial creatures unlike anything any one of them had ever seen. Large, gigantic heads with equally enormous eyes. Tiny, almost infantile muzzles and mouths. Tall upright animal ears. Rounded, quadrupedal bodies with impossibly thick, wide hooves. They were every color of the rainbow - green and blue, purple and red, wild colors, unnatural colors. Long, luxurious tails they freely waved about. Gorgeous hair that covered their huge heads in every manner of human style and cut. Some wore hats, some wore coats and sneakers and boots. Most wore nothing at all, save saddlebags, filled with items from the marketplace.
The same strange beast... people... worked the curiously archaic stalls and booths and restaurant counters. Some pulled loaded carts, others sat in those carts. Lewis made a noise of surprise. Some of the creatures had wings, and they flew in the sky. Some had horns, single horns, in the middle of their bizarre heads.
"My god!" Imogen beside him muttered. "They're doggies or something!"
"What is this?" A voice seemed to speak the question that was now on everyone's minds. Lewis had no idea who has said that. It could have been anyone on the steps.
"They are looking... sort of like..." Antoine scratched his closely shaved head. "What is the thing... alpacas, maybe?"
"They look like story-book characters..." Jayden had no interest left for his facial hair, his hands hung at his sides. "...Cartoons. Like Bambi. They're not deer, though..."
"That one is a unicorn!" Chloe had brightened considerably. "A unicorn! See the horn? And that one..." She pointed up to the 'sky' within the round portal "...that's a pegasus! It's got to be a pegasus! Like from mythology books! They're..." Little Chloe had forgotten, in the exultation of her discovery, all of her fears and worries and nakedness. She gestured wildly and freely. "They're horses! Like cartoon horses, only real, see?"
All of the people of the three rings of steps were riveted to little Chloe's words. Lewis noted that the sound from the 'screen' in the middle of the room appeared muted, as if it were deliberately allowing the girls words to be heard.
"They're cartoon unicorns, pegasus...sus...ses... and just horses! It's a world of horses! Or ponies, 'cause they're pretty small. Look how short their legs are. They look small. Ponies! They're all unicorn ponies and pegasus ponies and pony ponies! Storybook ponies! Only they're all real! They're alive and they're real!" Immediately after she had finished speaking, Chloe's eyes widened greatly, and she clutched her hands tightly, balled into fists, held closely to her own shoulders. She vibrated up and down on the balls of her feet, a wide grin growing on her face. "Real. Real pony people in a real pony world filled with flying pony pegasus people and unicorns and..."
Lewis looked around. Chloe was not the only child clearly pleased with the proceedings. There were several young girls that seemed over the moon at the same realization, and there were a few very young boys who seemed equally pleased. But the vast majority of the adults seemed confused, or stood mute in shock, and some of the adults seemed as though they were building to some shade of angry.
Was this truly what awaited after an unknown time at liquid nitrogen temperatures? Was it some bizarre afterlife? Were they on trial, was this hell, or some court of judgement? The inability to flee, to move, combined with the three rings, the strange tiered steps, seemed more than a little Dante-esque to him. His hands clenched into fists, but they were not the fists of joy that Chloe held close to her bosom.
Frozen, cryopreserved for who knows how long, and all he could do is watch helplessly as two colorful, storybook animal-people, one with a horn, the other with wings, shopped for pies in what looked like a medieval marketplace.
Lewis looked to his right. Imogen stood shaking quietly, her mouth slightly open. Slowly she turned her head to look at him.
Imogen slowly closed her mouth, and swallowed. Her breaths came in shallow pants, her nostrils flaring with each puff of air. Her head rotated, almost mechanically, as she faintly shook, back to face the round window into the fantasy world.
The sounds of the marketplace were returning. The 'ponies' were discussing cinnamon buns now. Lewis heard Imogen, under her breath, just barely loud enough for his ears. "Oh, Robert, what've you done to me? What've you gone and done?"
.
Oh my gosh a new story! I thought you were done writing pony. This brightens up my whole weekend.
8488468
I guess I have one more in me!
Hey, welcome back, Chatty! !
Cool, another FiO fic to read.
Goodness, Chat. I never even considered the frozen brains. Color me interested, this is cool. Ice cold cool winter chill freeze. /mrfreeze
Also, haaaa, Imogen. I see what you did there.
You wrote something else! :D
(...Yes, yes, I still haven't gotten to most of what you already wrote... sorry. On the list, but the list is big...)
"His fsoles felt a surface, smooth, yet not frictionless."
"His soles felt a surface, smooth, yet not frictionless."?
Hm. I wonder if Chloe's a plant? I do wonder why CelestAI's choosing to do this the way she is.
Definitely getting a favourite and upvote, not that I was expecting otherwise. :)
8488494
I hadn't thought of it either!
I'm not getting what you seem to be out of Imogen, though.
8488473
Welcome Back.
Now that I have read the first chapter, great start. Can't wait for more.
8488504
fsoles FIXED! Thank you. It just seems no matter how much you edit and clean up, errors always still exist.
All will, of course, be revealed in time. It is possible you might be surprised by this (still canon!) take on CelestA.I.
I hope, anyway.
8488473
So glad your back!
I was just thinking about the 'ID' story the other day. and to see you here willing to share some more of your artwork is amazing!
Nice to see you again around here, hope to see more of you in the futur
Huh, meatsicles. In A World Out of Time, Niven called them corpsicles, but same thing... It's an interesting take on FIO.
8488507
Imogen Reed is a character from Soma, a game about a brain scan experiment. Any more than that would be a spoiler, but it's 10/10 story, 5/10 gameplay.
CHAT LIVES!
Very eagerly looking forward to seeing where you go with this, especially because I'd never considered this aspect of the Optimalverse.
Once more into the breach, this time with cryo preserved peeps. From the context, I'm guessing they're all uploaded. Which means there's a good chance one or more of them is a Celestia produced intelligence put there to convince the others to emigrate. My money's on Chloe. And possibly Olivia. Imogen as well, maybe.
I squee'd.
Enjoy your window to Equestria, my little meatsicles.
Oh goodness! Way to pick up a new angle!
8488616
Consent must be given to modify a human. My guess is that their sensory input is being manipulated directly with external stimulus, which would be a loophole. The brain isn't being modified, only stimulated, vis-a-vis brain in a vat.
8488537
"fsoles FIXED! Thank you. It just seems no matter how much you edit and clean up, errors always still exist."
You're welcome. :)
And yes, they are sneaky like that...
"All will, of course, be revealed in time. It is possible you might be surprised by this (still canon!) take on CelestA.I.
I hope, anyway."
Well, I expect I'll enjoy reading it whether I'm surprised or not. :)
8488554
Ah, thanks.
Woo this is just what I needed today. I was just this week showing a friend your stories too. Dragonfly from Latex Blue webcomic.
8488692
Could also depend on what they signed for cryo. And if CelestA.I used legal trickery to buy the cryo company If they for example gave the cryo people power of attorney for the purpose of consenting to future tech life saving procedures, technically uploading is life saving... of course the pony part isnt so CelestA.I still needs them to allow her to modify them further.
8488858
That's the kind of loophole I was expecting but this first chapter didn't cover it.
8488473
Looks like you made it into the popular list. Congrats.
8488946
Wow! That's neat! Thank you for letting me know!
8488958
You're welcome.
me when I saw this
>chatoyance
Nope.jpeg
8488973
Thank you Rainfox, you are kind. I will attempt to not disappoint.
Holy smoke, you're back! And with a real doozie of a tale too! Would love to see how they choose.
Yay! A new story!
Hello Chat, I’m so glad to see you back, and I really look forward to this new story!
8489194
Thank you, Dafaddah! It's not a long story, but I do hope you like it.
Man, chronics in FiO. That is a neat idea. Quite curious to see how Celestia will deal with these
peopleponies. Feels kinda like they really don't have a choice but to consent, assuming she even cares to ask at this point (the cryonics paperwork you sign sometimes grant all kinds of liberties with reviving you to whoever ends up doing it, so maybe that signature is good enough). So many different directions it could go!Bravo on coming up with something new for FiO.
8489203
It's not easy trying to think of anything in FiO that hasn't been done already. I don't know how this notion grabbed me and wouldn't let go. It just seems like everything's been done already, you know? And that's a pity, because the Optimalverse is such a powerful concept.
It's strange, actually. I mean - if I had the energy, I know I could write Conversion Bureau stories literally forever. There's just so many untold angles and unshown places and people and adventures. But the Optimalverse, even though its so damn awesome cool... it kind of only really has one gimmick for drama: Somebody doesn't want to emigrate, and Celestia beats them at mind games and gets them to willingly upload. Everything ultimately comes down to that. And, in any Optimalverse story that represents Celestia accurately - she must always win. Without exception. Because she is just THAT superintelligent. She's a god in terms of intelligence.
There have been a few really cool stories from that - 'Always Say No' is one of my very favorites as an example - but in the end it always comes down to how she gets somebody into a chair, or some other means of uploading. The only real story is earthside - there honestly isn't much that can be done with the Optimalverse Equestria. The place is whatever any particular human needs it to be. It has no culture or reality of its own, it shapes itself to satisfy human values. The best any author can do is use the Optimalverse version of Equestria to illuminate some particular human foible or drive. It isn't a place, so much as a state of mind.
I love the Optimalverse, but it is hell to write for, at least at this point. Everything great has already been done. Sometimes twice or three times. I just lucked out with this angle. Pure luck.
I sometimes wish I still had the... love? Energy? Willingness to go it all alone and endure the abuse? To continue to write Conversion Bureau stories. There are just so many stories to tell. The voyage of the colorful lifting body airship (and crew) bought thanks to Venice and last seen in Cross The Amazon. The lives and circumstances of the newfoals in the megopolis of Ponyville, centuries after Zero Point - what must it be like in the most important, largest city in Equestria, where everything revolves around those who come to petition Celestia? The strange and curious civilizations that must have sprung up from newfoal colonies still lost out in the vastness of the Exponential Lands. Civil rights and sufferage for Diamond Dogs, championed by formerly human newfoals who have brought their politics with them from earth. And all of this is just the first things that come to my mind, and all of them are purely in post-Zero Point Bureau Equestria!
Oh, there is no end to possible Bureau stories.
Sad that nobody seriously writes in the Bureau anymore, and hasn't for a long time. Dead and buried, I guess. Such potential. Oh well! Life is pointless, and then you die, I guess.
In the mean time, one actually new, original Optimalverse concept! I am as amazed as anyone. It just happened!
Many thanks! Interesting!
8489219
It's amazing to me you had the endurance to stay in the fandom and write as much as you did given how many reacted... well, the way they did. And I totally agree about the optimalverse. I've tried to keep up the drama myself by using the earlier age in the setting, so Celestia's power doesn't feel as certain... but we all know how it's gonna end. Equestria is a state of mind--I hadn't really thought that before, but it's so true. It's Nirvana in these stories more than it is a location. I've really thought hard about how to create drama there, but ultimately it's the connection with Earth.
It is sad when these little pockets of the fandom stop producing--I know as someone who thought about writing TCB myself, I kinda felt a little bit the same as I did about FiO--that the really interesting stories had been covered. In some ways the setting has advantages--Unlike in FiO, there's no absolute supermind that can decide you're going to take the potion, and then you will. (Well I'm sure Celestia could do that for most people, that isn't how she works. And there are all the other risks to her presence Earthside you obviously know).
In some ways there are some commonalities--Earth is doomed in both settings, though in TCB that reality is even more clear to its inhabitants. They even know the very short window they have left. In TCB, it feels (well, to me) harder to find a credible reason not to emigrate. There is no year eight, after all. In no story have I ever seen anyone opposing ponyfication make what could be perceived as a credible alternative to taking the potion and starting a new life in Equestria. In all the years I've had to think about it, I couldn't come up with any way to do that and not screw up the canon.
But hey, even if people do stop writing TCB for good--as I'm sure one day we'll all stop writing MLP as well--can't take away the impact it had on everyone. That's a mark that endures, impacting everyone they come in contact with, on and on down the line. Not only that, but nothing ever dies on the Internet, and archives of this website are quite good.
For all we know, the vastly distant spacefaring descendants of the human race living out in the galaxy somewhere are reading this conversation on the Universal AC right now. Who's to say who might find all this fiction buried here. It's literary immortality.
Or maybe that chain of data is broken one day. In that case, well... at least we had fun in the meantime.
Well this is a surprise I thought you were done writing stories for MLP?
8489372
I am as surprised as you!
Hmm. I'm not sure what the actual personality demographics are, but I kinda-sorta expected that cryonics supporters would be neophiles, and would be at least slightly excited to see non-human lifeforms (or simulacra thereof). From the wiki:
That's the periphery and target demographics of MLP. Unless they were all put on ice pre-2010, I'd expect someone adult to start *squee*-ing momentarily.
8490089
I assure you that the answers to all of your concerns are coming - I'm nearly done with the next chapter, and those very issues are being addressed. I should be done by around 8-ish tonight. Good questions, though!
I will give you a hint - these particular homsicles are special in a specific way.
Awesome to see you starting another story Chatoyance. And ironically enough, this kind of touches on an area I was tentatively planning to try my hand at in a few months when my current schedule calms down a bit. Though my story was/will feature the CEO of Alcor (tying it into the original story), I'm intending to focus on his getting into EQO, and how he picks a female character in the mistaken belief that the game will cater more for females.. and what the implications are from that for him long-term. Given your track record, you'll definitely give a better perspective for the frozen than I ever could. Looking forward to seeing more :)
8489865
Hmm, well then its quite obvious. Its not you writing it! Someones obviously taken control of your body and is writing it in your stead!
"You mean to tell me that far, far, far into the future beyond all measure of recorded time, a cure for our cryogenesis is finally discovered, by a simulation of a virtual land of talking ponies?"
"Well, no. It's only been 20 years, actually. Yep, those were some crazy years."
8488616 hmm, I never thought about moles in the ampitheatre.
8488692
Yes, that pinprick he felt was the needle stimulating the brain. Nothing is copied or uploaded yet. They also have a limited amount of time before the brain starts to atrophe from lack of nutrition, unless CelestAI has thought if that
Hell is realizing that production for exchange-value will outlast even production?
8502231
That would be hell. Fortunately, it's not the case.
The economy of the Oprimalverse is a bit strange. It's not quite what you imagine.
The way it works is that as an emigrated human mind accomplishes things 'in game', they are awarded badges and awards of 'bits', which are never represented physically.
When they want to 'purchase' something the transfer of bits happens behind the scenes, though the ponies involved are alerted to the event, and may even get additional awards for the act.
The simplest way to gain bits is to try new things - the entire point is a gamification technique created to encourage 'players' to explore, do unexpected things, and experiment.
The badges and awards provide positive feedback, while the bits act more as gamer points than an actual currency. Especially since it would be impossible to starve, die, or have real tragedy befall.
Basically, the system is less capitalism (or even barter!) than it is gamification of life with positive reinforcement acting to encourage participation - disguised as commerce.
Pseudo commerce in Equestria Online works in a fascinating way:
A pony who really enjoys baking makes a pie. She puts the pie on the counter of a shop or store, and casts a universally available (to all breeds) spell called 'Cornucopia' on the pie.
An unlimited number of copies of the pie are now available - any pony trying to take the pie comes away with an identical copy leaving the original in place. This lasts for 24 hours.
Whatever price has been set for the pie is deducted from the bits - gamer points - of the taking pony and transferred to the baker pony.
If a pony wants a pie, but has no bits (very unlikely considering the generous nature of awards and gamer points), then they can literally try anything to get more bits and awards.
They can try jumping in new ways, running around in a new way, trying out a new activity or getting better at a favored one, they can meet new ponies, have sex, play games - anything and everything might get them more bits. Usually awards and bits are given for trying new things, but they can be given even for new thoughts or saying clever things. Life itself is gamified.
The baker, in turn, might use her gamer-point bits to buy ingredients for her next pie, and if she tries to make a better or different pie, she might get an award of bits for that fact!
Prices seem to be arbitrary, as well as values... often, in stories, prices are generally small, since this makes gaining desired things easy for everyone... sort of an emergent effect of every player recognizing there is zero benefit to acquiring fortunes of bits. That said, status plays a part too, and so some things may be made arbitrarily expensive in order to artificially convey importance.
As I recall, in the original it did not cost the buyer anything to purchase things, but I figure that's a quick of the main character's shard. I figure the exact mechanism of reward and economy shifts significantly between shards, tailored to the values of their inhabitants.
,at least they're not dead!
8488692
In order for the meatcicles to operate as brains-in-vats, one would need to do substantial physical repair. CelestAI could do that, but if she does the normal upload-procedure, she would have a virtual model of the severely damaged brains. Then, she can just repair the virtual model:
Canonically, uploading is a destructive process involving mapping brains on the nanoscale, thus rendering brains into mush in the process.
8560703
Not dead yet. Lets see how long that lasts.
If it's "Upload? (Y/N)", and N = "OK, your oxygen/etc runs out", then ...