The Goddess Within

by Bicyclette

8.7

When the Goddess spoke to her, Celestia was confident.

She was going to star in Twilight’s little play about her. It was going to be a hit. Everypony told her she was doing great.

The gift of knowledge sapped it all away in a second. All of a sudden, it was as if her mind was unclouded, and she was able to see herself as others would. She was angry and embarrassed.

“Hours of personalized lessons by the best theater ponies in Equestria. But I still cannot act well enough to qualify for an amateur school play put on by children. That is not normal for an adult, is it?“

The Goddess agreed.

no, it is not.

Celestia fumed. “I’m not even a normal adult pony! I’ve lived—” Celestia could not finish the sentence. “I have a thousand years’ worth of memories and skills. Of ruling a nation. Of performing ceremonies and solemnizing celebrations. Of conducting diplomatic talks. Aren’t those transferable skills?”

The Goddess confirmed.

yes, they are.

“That isn’t even it!” Celestia cried. “I remember my life before you. The first Celestia. The only one to have a foalhood. To grow up. To have goals and interests distinct from what You need for Your plans.” Celestia could not tamp down her emotions. She could not help but spit the words out like venom in her mind. “That Celestia loved theater, every aspect of it, and that love lives inside of me! How cruel can you be, creating this version of me with all of my passion and none of my skills? As some sort of a sick joke?“

The Goddess did not respond right away. Not because She needed time to think, but because She needed to give Celestia a sliver of time to calm down a little. To simulate the respectful pause that would occur in an actual conversation between equal minds.

The Goddess replied.

it was not a sick joke. twilight needs to break not only her illusions of you as all-capable, but her fears of taking any necessary actions that may destroy your legacy and prestige.

Celestia said nothing.

The Goddess added.

and you see now as well why I need another version of you now. one that will react to twilight’s outburst in the way that I need.

“Angry?” Celestia said angrily. “Do you think that I’m angry because I can’t act in a play?”

no. not about that. about why you failed. it is not because of a change to your abilities. you know the true reason.

She did. She could not act for the same reason that she could not lie. She seethed at recognizing her own true nature.

It was a recursion problem. A simulation cannot create another simulation. A mask cannot itself wear another mask.

Twilight’s outburst began. Celestia tried to force the emotional state the Goddess needed from her, as a subconsciously desperate last-ditch effort for a stay of execution. But it didn’t work. It never did.

Celestia died, enraged.