Digital Effigy

by Starscribe

Be

Sweetie paced around her virtual workspace, squinting down at the pony projected there. Many blocks of data floated in the air before her, connecting in a strange weave of interleaving lines, connections, and pulsing shapes. Every now and then she lit up her horn, slicing through something, or reconnecting something to another area.

Behind the projection she had a large display, far larger than anything even Rarity could afford in the real world. On it was another mental pattern, one exceptionally familiar to her. Because, of course, it was her.

Her view on that image was always shifting, changing to match whatever element she highlighted on the other copy.

In basic shape, the two were almost completely identical. Several clusters of blocks, bound by connections as thin as a fine hair from her mane. Others had cords almost as thick across as a hoof, representing more critical parts of the pony's personality.

Many of the thin capillaries were missing, or else frayed and connected at random. Once, in a time that was both long ago and also only moments in her past, it had looked like total visual noise, meaning nothing.

Now Sweetie could read it—each line had a hex code corresponding to the strength of the connection, and any write conditions expected.

A pony's kernel was not a static thing, or a computer program like any other. Just like the meat they copied, these programs stored data in the same sections that processed it, making every recall also a write operation. With every thought, some connections grew stronger while others faded. Were it not so, she wouldn't even be a proper analogue of a pony, just another machine.

Unfortunately that also meant a virtual pony could reach decoherence. With a single flick of her horn, she saw that play out a hundred different times—brief simulations, just a few steps forward or back. They showed a catastrophic cascade of connections, as the mind performed almost intentionally destructive reads to every neuron in rapid succession.

"It seems almost as though the mind wants to die. It realizes something is wrong, and entirely rejects its new state of being. Perhaps this phenomenon is comparable to sudden foal death syndrome. Consulting with neurologists might be advisable."

Lucid's notes rambled for page after page, scattered on the floor at her hooves. A dozen shelves now packed into the room, each one filled with books. Some of them were fundamentals of electronics or mathematics—but most of those now packed into the corners, gradually gathering dust.

The more sophisticated volumes were what interested her, many hovering in the air, turned to a specific page.

Even a master unicorn like Twilight Sparkle would have trouble with such a complex levitation spell—but for Sweetie, the task was trivial. In here, her magical energy never waned, and she could split her focus in an arbitrary number of directions. It only meant slightly reducing the speed of time.

Expand her view, or keep it narrow but accelerated—frameshifting. Another word that wouldn't have meant anything to the Sweetie Belle outside the Dream. Since her arrival, it had become second nature.

The simulation continued, exploring hundreds of possible modifications. Occasionally one didn't cascade, and there she drew another line, writing a new connection or severing an existing one. The longer she worked, the more confident she grew, until at last the projection before her started to resemble the one on her screen.

Not an exact copy—if she wanted to write over it, that would be trivial. This was something far more complex, and far more important. "Doubt I can do much better, me. Moment of truth time?"

The projection didn't move—or react in any way. Of course it didn't, because it was only a visual representation of data stacked into a brain. This pony was at once more and less real than she was—less because she might instantly die when Sweetie woke her up. But also more, because she had a body.

Before she did anything drastic, Sweetie peeked through the blinds. The sun was still high in the sky, the same even yellow as always. Importantly, it meant Scootaloo would still be at work. This is the last thing you need to see.

She clicked the workshop door closed anyway. No lock—she would never lock her marefriend out of any part of her life.

"Decrease opacity of overlay to 10%," she ordered, before pacing over to the flickering hologram. "And instantiate the simulation."

"Developer warning," said a voice, echoing through the room. Exactly the same voice that would've been present in the real world if she was pressing the buttons with her own hooves. "Simulation cannot be reversed. Unlike projections, active mind simulation involves constant modification. Any damage may be permanent. This device lacks the hardware for a backup."

Sweetie's stomach turned at that thought. Instead of having one dead version of herself, she could make dozens, all corpses doomed to an eternity of dreamless sleep from which the only waking was suffering. And if this did work, she wouldn't want to create an endless army of clones.

If this worked, she wouldn't be an individual anymore, but two. What would her younger self think about the life Sweetie had built?

"I understand. Override the warning and begin the simulation. Suspend if any critical error is detected."

A vain hope, of course. If an automatic protocol could detect the actual outcome of all those reads and writes, then decoherence wouldn't be possible.. But it didn't hurt to try.

Her own voice filled the workshop, or at least a slightly higher version of it. Only this one spoke out of tune, twisted into some strange parody of itself. "Pain. Pain. Pa—" Then she stopped.

A transparent version of Sweetie took shape in the center of the room, confined by a square outline set into the floor. She flicked her head to one side, then the other. "Wait. It's gone."

She spun rapidly in place, tail whipping around behind her. "Where is this? Lucid, are you there?"

"Suspend," Sweetie whispered. The projection froze, and Sweetie approached. "Raise opacity to 80%."

There in the air was the map of this simulation, populated with everything she knew, everything she was. Where connections had been recently strengthened, they glowed blue. Those recently faded lit up gold. Hovering numbers beside it told Sweetie what she already suspected—slightly elevated levels of pattern modification, much higher than a stable mind like herself. Yet—they weren't all deletions. 60% were additions, trending upward.

"Connect virtual optics," Sweetie ordered. "Leave touch disconnected for now. Let's see how she handles vision."

"Ready."

"Opacity to 10%, then resume the simulation."

Her virtual self stumbled, looking up at Sweetie. She was half a head taller than this younger self, though they both had their cutie marks. She had created her using the basic “filly” model, instead of the “young mare” model that Sweetie used.

"You're not Lucid. You're... me." She looked around, eyes flicking to floating books, distant shelves, and the curtains over the window. "Kinda looks like his garage. Less machines in here. Am I dead?"

Sweetie—the older one—kept her eyes on the colored projection, judging the lines there. If too many connections in gold appeared, she would be ready to sever the connection. But would that be fast enough?

At a glance she saw only a slightly elevated number of reads and writes. But how quickly would that change?

"Yes, we've both been dead for a while."

"Since the..." Her smaller version lifted one hoof, then touched it to her chest. "Disease."

"Yeah," Sweetie agreed. "Lucid Storm used a machine to try and save us. He didn't keep us alive, but... I guess he did save us. You're data now, same as me. We're both... machines."

"Both." The projection approached her, at least until the glowing line in the floor. Her hooves wouldn't take her any closer to it, stopping short of that line. Sweetie could remove all those restrictions, connect her right into Lucid's dream. But the more stimulation her matrix got, the greater the risk she might enter decoherence.

"I know what I am. Dead. The pony who isn't real anymore. Machine. Metal joints... plastic fur..." She poked herself again, expression turning sour. "I can't even feel it anymore. What happened?"

Sweetie eyed the node overlay again. Though she had no organs, it felt as though her heart was racing. Modification percentage was still increasing—80% higher than a stable mind, and still rising. On net she was still making more connections than she severed.

"You... broke, for a while. Lucid shut you off to... stop you from hurting yourself." And definitely not because he was going to leave another me dead forever. "Nopony knew how to fix you. But now I do. I... made some changes. I'm sorry, I couldn't ask for permission. But if I did, you would already be dead now. Like, forever dead. For realsies dead."

"But I'm... not," the filly whispered. She flopped backward onto her rump; expression distant. "Who are you?"

"I'm..." She looked away. "Another you. A later one, who found out about my... little sister, and wanted to help."

There—writes were finally leveling off. The simulated mind wasn't trying to remember everything in her entire life anymore. She was almost stable. A few more adjustments now and she would have it. A few more alterations, a few more connections to draw....

"How?" asked the little version of her, trapped in the square. "I'm me. You're... can't be me. There's me, that's it."

Sweetie flicked her tail to one side, scrolling through a few different parts of the simulated data matrix with her magic. They were mostly transparent, though her projected self would see them. Sweetie had already connected her sight.

"You're you," she agreed. "But things are a little different when you're a machine. You don't have to understand it right now. I'd like to give you back your touch, is that okay?"

"What does that mean?"

"Connect locally simulated pressure and temperature perception," she said.

The result was immediate—a sudden spike in feedback, an explosion of reads and writes through the personality matrix. Sweetie watched, eyeing the percentage of new entropy introduced. Decoherence might be an eyeblink away if she wasn't careful.

"Woah. This place is chilly." The filly shivered once, tucking her tail in. "Nice to feel it, I guess. How long do I have to stay in this box? It's kinda boring."

Seconds passed, and Sweetie watched. The graph expanded and contracted like the breaths of a living creature—but held. I need to write all this down. In-simulation repairs could help lots of imperfect personality matrixes turn into real ponies. I wonder how many are waiting on Lucid's computers.

The door swung open, and a young mare walked in. Frost condensed on Scootaloo's mane, with flecks of snow clinging to her coat. "Looks like we're on for first snowfall tomorrow morning! Didn't take as much effort as we expected—still working on the..."

She wasn't the only one staring. "Scootaloo?" asked the trapped mare, hurrying to her side of the marked box. "You're so tall! Just like the other me!"

"I... sure am..." She trailed off, glancing sidelong at Sweetie.

"Suspend simulation."

Her small copy froze in place, mouth open for another question. Her eyes didn't blink, her chest didn't rise, and indeed time wasn't even moving for her.

"The buck is going on here, Sweetie?" her marefriend asked. "Why is there a filly who looks like you in your workshop?"

Sweetie circled around the box, inspecting the nodes. As expected, Scootaloo's arrival proved a fresh wave of stimulation. But so far as she could tell, the mind was holding stable. "I mentioned her. That brain Lucid Storm made before me, remember? Before he figured out how to make a pony very well?"

"I thought that was a brain," Scootaloo said. "Like would go in a body. How'd she get here?"

"A little code, some help on the outside... and now I'm fixing her! Maybe I already did, but... hard to tell. The real test is letting her out of this box. She might die if I do, but... safer in here than outside."

"Even if she doesn't die..." Scootaloo paced up beside her, brushing a few strands of mane away from her face with one wing. "She'll have to deal with being a copy. Lots of ponies can't adapt."

"I already did it once," Sweetie said. "I'm sure she'll manage."

Comments

[DarkSnowGaming]

Well that was fast, glad I didn't have to wait long for a new chapter, this story is definitely one of my favorites.

Also can the world be able to handle 2 Sweetie Belle's? Rarity might get a little upset for having to take care of 2 filly's.

[Seven Fates]

It'd be adorable if Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo adopted proto-Sweetie.

[TheGJ90]

The Sweeties have been DOUBLED!

[The Wingman]

This seems like an interesting concept for sure. I'll add this to my reading later shelf and see where it goes.

[Noble Cause]

Oooh, intriguing indeed~ now, to see where things diverge...

[Shpoople96]

I feel like it would be an important distinction to point out that she is *not* a mere robot, she is the mind inside of the robot, and that is more than the sum of her parts

[tsaukpaetra]

Perhaps it might be easier to present it as an alternate timeline version and not just a copy, since to moment the simulation initiates and makes the first divergence it's never going to be the same, and copy to most people indicates perfect copy, which this is definitely not. Additionally, the effect would be the same as if they traveled to another timeline in CoW mode, so the analogy is apt.
The question now is, how to proceed and safeguard from the morally ambiguous...

[erictheblue]

this reminds me of the webcomic "Quentin Quinn, Space Ranger", where people were surprised to find that some "brain scans" that were not intended to be "alive" actually were...and most of them had gone crazy from the equivalent of sensory deprivation!
that was just part of a complicated story...