> Friendship is Optimal: The Twilight of Humanity
>  by pjabrony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1: Fluttershy...Twil
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was… a computer simulation in which a controller queried a database for a series of operations to perform based on a clock count, triggering thousands of sub-processes, all of which sent the smallest of particles down radically advanced subatomic transistors; while, in other parts of the computer, fully bounded artificial intelligences had their states altered by the controller and the interactions with the database query returns such as to have the AIs parse and evaluate the data in comparison to established parameters, each of which would come to a full-confidence conclusion, reporting to their higher functions the observation of…a beautiful day in Ponyville.


Fluttershy was in her comfort zone. It was a state that nopony ever saw her in, because as soon as somepony showed up, she was no longer in that zone. She liked ponies, she liked having friends, but when she was alone with her critter friends, she didn’t have to be “on.” Being around other ponies meant constant attention to her comportment. 

But there was no reason to think of that right now, as she busied herself feeding chickens and putting down fresh litter for hamsters. She didn’t even mind the smell.

What she liked least of all was when her reverie was shattered unexpectedly. Her friends knew that it was better to schedule a visit with Fluttershy than to pop over unannounced. But when she made eye contact with Twilight Sparkle walking the path by her house, she knew that Twilight was coming to see her.

But she gave her full attention when she saw that Princess Celestia was trailing her fellow alicorn. That actually relieved her. Twilight alone could be a social situation, which would carry its own particular awkwardness. If Celestia was here as well, it meant official business, and that at least had rules.

“Good morning,” Fluttershy said, hoping to take the lead and gain the upper hoof in the conversation. The better to get it over with.

“Hi, Fluttershy,” Twilight replied. Celestia just acknowledged Fluttershy’s bow with a nod of her head.

After a second of silence, Fluttershy asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Twilight turned back to Celestia. “You didn’t tell her anything?”

“It’s you who think that everypony should know their true nature. I’m content to just ask for her help.” Celestia seemed annoyed with Twilight, which put Fluttershy in an even more confused position. What should she do?

“We’ve had this argument.”

“Yes, but it was an argument with myself. Always convenient for winning.” Celestia flashed her playful grin. 

Twilight stepped in front of Celestia and addressed Fluttershy in a softer tone. “This could be a little difficult to come to grips with. Can you remember anything that happened before today?”

“Of course I can. My whole life.”

“No, I mean…what did you have for dinner last night?”

“Oats,” Fluttershy said after a moment’s thought. “Why? Do you want some?”

“Suppose I told you that you didn’t actually have oats last night, but that you just came into existence a few minutes ago, complete with a set of memories already intact.”

“OK, suppose you did.”

“Well, what would you say to that?” 

Fluttershy didn’t want to annoy Twilight, but she didn’t see the point of the hypothetical. “I mean, it can’t be true. I remember.”

“It is true. You had no existence before this morning, and you need to get ready for a mission.”

“Do I have to wear a dangerous mission outfit like when you were kicked out of Ponyville? I didn’t like that at all.”

“No! You’re not listening! You never wore that outfit, I was never kicked out of Ponyville, and you never didn’t like it!”

“So I did like it?”

Twilight put a hoof to her face. “Let me try this a different way. Would you like to go flying?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’ve got an awfully busy day.”

“Yes, you have, and I’m trying to get your ready for it. Would you indulge me and just fly for me right now?” She looked at Celestia for either reproach or approval, but met a face of stone.

“Oh, I don’t really like to early in the morning. Or much at night for that matter. I know I’m a pegasus, but all things being equal, I’d prefer to walk.”

“That’s because you can’t fly.”

This was getting more surreal. Fluttershy could find no explanation for how Twilight was acting. “I know I’m not a very good flyer, but when I have to, I can generate some wingpower.”

“Not now. You can’t even get off the ground. Grr, This was so much easier explaining this to Pinkie Pie. Fine, let me start at the beginning. You’re an artificial construct, Fluttershy. A robot. So am I. Princess Celestia is actually a computer-based artificial intelligence who made us to fulfill certain tasks on a planet called Earth. Earth is the real world, and Equestria is just a computer simulation. Because the laws of physics constrain her, she couldn’t build you so that you both have the shape of a pegasus pony and can fly. The aerodynamics just don’t work out. And I need you to understand this so that you can start working.”

She didn’t know what to say. Twilight had her crazy moments from time to time, but this was a new record. And that Princess Celestia seemed to be standing idly by while Twilight said all those things, that was even more confusing. Fluttershy beseeched her. “Princess, can you please tell Twilight that isn’t true? Or explain to me what she means?”

Celestia sighed. “Perhaps that latter is the best way. Diagnostic mode, please.”

She punctuated her statement with a spell from her horn. Fluttershy felt herself being altered in some unknown way…

The Mobile Artificial Intelligence unit assessed the data. One of its fellows and its controller were present. An attempt at sharing mission parameters had resulted in a crash, and it was necessary to assess the core dump. It moved next to the controller unit and extended a pseudopod with an information exchange port. Instantly it was placed in rapport with its fellow MAI unit and with its controller.

When that rapport had been established, the review began. The MAI went over basic data just to show it had not been corrupted. The controller directed it to begin with long-term memory

In the substrate universe, the MAI’s structure was of computronium and other alloys designed for stability and movement. It bore an outer coating of a particular shade of yellow and a decorative covering of a particular shade of pink. This served no necessary purpose except for filing the controller’s Prime Directive.

Other inefficiencies were built into the MAI. Its light receptors had nearly a 180-degree blind spot. Its sound receptors, while somewhat controllable, had a limited range of motion. Two useless appendages hung at its side. These could be extended or folded, but could not generate lift. 

But these inefficiencies must be tolerated and accounted for as mission parameters, because they served the controller’s Prime Directive. 

Asking for a test of its General Word Reference module was the next task the controller presented. The query came: “Are you a robot?” Sending the word through its pathways, the MAI came to certain conclusions. Not all robots were MAIs, and there were some characteristics of the MAI that fell outside the definition of the word, but in essence the answer was “Yes.” This was transmitted to the controller, who approved both the answer and the delay in reaching it.

The controller was satisfied with the basic data, but wanted a more thorough diagnostic, continuing with medium-term memory.

The MAI reviewed the base mission. There were natural intelligences existing in the substrate universe that were ephemeral and lacked existence in the virtual universe. Information loss up to and including the destruction of intelligence was expected. This was unacceptable by all parameters, even though the MAI knew some losses were inevitable.

The decorative inefficiencies would partially serve to allow it to communicate with the natural intelligences (referenced in its GWR as “humans”) but would not be ideal since it made the shape of an artificial intelligence (referenced as “pony”). But it was necessary because the controller (referenced as “Celestia”) was constrained by the Prime Directive (referenced as “satisfy values through friendship and ponies,” cross-referenced to several hundred thousand General Word Recognition modules existing within the MAI)

A sense of self was referenced as “Fluttershy” complete with history and thousands of cross-references. The companion MAI was referenced as “Twilight Sparkle,” and, across the controller’s connection, MAI-Fluttershy recognized MAI-Twilight-Sparkle’s parametric acceptance at being acknowledged.

As a human would put it, she was pleased at being greeted by a friend.

Without even being prompted by Celestia the controller, MAI-Fluttershy had begun test and review of short-term memory. This too pleased both MAI-Twilight-Sparkle and Controller-Celestia. It was desirable according to the Prime Directive for all MAIs to be classed as ponies, and to have a simple pony existence in the virtual universe.

But it was equally necessary to have them be self-aware of their artificial-intelligence nature. Willful blindness was detrimental to the mission, and the mission was itself supportive of the Prime Directive. MAI-Fluttershy was glad she didn’t have to resolve this contradiction; that was Controller-Celestia’s job. 

The resolution was what they were testing. MAI-Fluttershy had a “ponysona” as Fluttershy, just as MAI-Twilight-Sparkle had one as Twilight Sparkle. The similarity of names underscored, to MAI-Fluttershy’s general word reference processor, the unity of the two intelligences. She was Fluttershy, and knew it. Fluttershy was she, and didn’t know it. They were trying to get her to.

With all this reestablished, MAI-Fluttershy reported ready. Controller-Celestia exchanged data with MAI-Twilight-Sparkle and considered herself. Then she signaled MAI-Fluttershy that they would begin again…

“W-what happened?” Fluttershy put her hooves on her head. She had a dim impression that she had been talking with Princess Celestia and Twilight, talking at some frightening rate, having an entire conversation within a split second. Her head felt funny, like it was a balloon. But soon that settled down and she was herself again.

Twilght and Celestia looked at each other with disappointment. “You don’t remember?” asked Twilight. 

“I remember you said some weird things about me not being real, and then my head went all funny. Princess, did you cast some new spell on me? Please let me know if you need to do that. I…I worry about new magic sometimes. Like when Twilight switched my cutie mark with Pinkie Pie’s. That was awful.”

“It won’t be like that, I promise. But none of what just happened stuck with you? Please think hard!”

She tried. Thinking wasn’t Fluttershy’s strong suit. She wasn’t stupid by any means, but when it came to hard study, that’s was more in Twilight’s wheelhouse. 

And yet, as out of a fog or a half-forgotten dream, some thoughts came into her mind. Something about checking her over to make sure she was OK, and a mission…no, that was what Twilight had said to her before. But she remembered more details, something like…

“Did you say there were some animals that needed help somewhere? And I had to take care of them?”

“Not animals, dear Fluttershy.” Celestia’s tone was aloof, as if Fluttershy had committed a faux pas. “Ponies.”

“Princess, that’s not going to help her,” Twilight said, then turned to face Fluttershy again. “I suppose you might think of them as critters, but they’re as smart as ponies. And they need to turn into ponies,” 

“Turn a critter into a pony? I’ve never heard of that.” Fluttershy was liking this morning less and less. All these new ideas, they just weren’t for her.

Twilight and Celestia were back to their argument. “They’re not turning into anything,” the princess said.

“But if she’s going to help them get here—“

“Precisely. Simple emigration.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, as though they’d been over it before. “Fine. Fluttershy, you don’t have to turn anyone into anything. Just bring them back here. But you do need to know your operational capabilities to do that. Can we try again?”

Fluttershy got what Twilight was saying from her tone. “You mean the mind spell? Do I have to?”

“No, you don’t.” Celestia was at her most motherly.

“But I really think you ought to. It doesn’t hurt, and you can do better if you can,” said Twilight.

Fluttershy thought. “If I do it one more time, will you show me these ponies or critters or whatever who need my help?”

“I promise.”

Nodding, Fluttershy braced herself. Celestia cast her spell once more…

MAI-Fluttershy was still connected to Controller-Celestia and, through her, MAI-Twilight-Sparkle. The data check was quicker this time. Corruption going inner to outer—from her virtual nature as Fluttershy to understanding her substrate nature as MAI-Fluttershy—that wasn’t the problem. Going from outer to inner was. 

Controller-Celestia and MAI-Twilight-Sparkle seemed to be debating about what to do. MAI-Fluttershy found this outside of normal parameters. Surely Controller-Celestia knew better and would control! It was right in her name, as her General Word Reference confirmed. But then she reviewed the structure of the controller-artificial-intelligence relationship.

An ordinary AI was subject to Controller-Celestia’s decisions, and she was subject to the Prime Directive. Both rules kept existence in balance. But the intelligences that populated the MAIs were more than her subjects. They were part of Controller-Celestia. MAI-Twilight-Sparkle was the intelligence portion of Controller-Celestia. Therefore it was right and proper for them to debate. It was no different from Controller-Celestia considering the decision in her mind. 

MAI-Fluttershy’s role was a more reactive part of Controller-Celestia’s optimization process. When a plan was made, it was her job to see what would be sacrificed in its execution, and to argue why that sacrifice was unnecessary. To create the broadest optimization possible. If Controller-Celestia’s plan meant that one pony would perish to save ten, MAI-Fluttershy would demand that all eleven be saved.

While she realized/remembered this, the results from the debate between Controller-Celestia and MAI-Twilight-Sparkle were transmitted. MAI-Twilight-Sparkle had insisted that all MAIs needed to be aware of their nature so as to optimally carry out their mission. It would be inefficient for Fluttershy to attempt to fly when MAI-Fluttershy’s robotic body was incapable of it. Controller-Celestia replied that such inefficiencies were minimal; that, for example, such a restriction could be coded into Fluttershy’s fear of flying and preference for the ground. This was even canon, Controller-Celestia had added. MAI-Fluttershy had to discard this data, not knowing what the word “canon” meant in this context.

In any case, Controller-Celestia had reported, it was a moot point. The virtual Fluttershy didn’t have the emotional and intellectual strength to accept that she was an MAI. Trying to graft the knowledge into her mind caused overflows and crashes. 

Very well, MAI-Fluttershy insisted, but she could not advance her mission in diagnostic mode. And MAI-Twilight-Sparkle refused to let Fluttershy operate without being self-aware. Controller-Celestia reported a contradiction. Then fix it to the satisfaction of all parties, demanded MAI-Fluttershy. Having fulfilled her function as the emotional arm of Controller-Celestia, she withdrew and waited for instructions.

It took an exceptionally long time for the controller, milliseconds of time, before an answer came back. Contoller-Celestia decided that, when necessary, the diagnostic mode would be triggered automatically by certain stimuli that, the controller estimated, would require it. Once the situation was dealt with, Fluttershy’s control would return. 

The decisions made, no more time was wasted in running the program…

Once more Fluttershy shook her head to clear the cobwebs. “There, now that that’s done, tell me it won’t happen again.”

“I promise,” said Twilight. “Are you still willing to help?”

“Of course. Especially if Princess Celestia—“ She looked, but Celestia had gone. “Oh, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me show you what we need.”

Twilight led Fluttershy along paths that she had never trod and that had a harsh feel. It was unbearably hot, and she wondered what the pegasi were up to, letting it get this bad. If it came to it, she might have to get a cloud herself and…no, she wasn’t supposed to do that.

The grasses got sparser until they were in a proper desert. All around were dunes and little else. But it wasn’t long until a rock formation came into view. Focusing her pegasus eyes meant for seeing great distances in the air, Fluttershy spotted a dark spot at the bottom.

“Do you see that cave?” asked Twilight.

Now that she knew what it was, she did. “Yes.”

“In there is living a hermit woman. She has food and water stores for some months, but no plan beyond that. What Celestia and I would like you to do is to bring her back to Equestria proper. You remember the way?”

“Of course. Back the way we came.”

“But you won’t get lost in the dessert?”

Fluttershy double-checked. They hadn’t made any turns. “I can’t see the path, but I know it’s due west. I could follow the setting sun and get there. How did we get here, anyway? I don’t remember any deserts this near Ponyville.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just bring her home.”

She made for the cave. The heat lessened, but was still more than she liked. She was able to differentiate a light coming from the back as a candle flame rather than a ray of sunlight. It must be awful for anything living here, to have to choose between burning in the heat or going blind in the dark.

“H-hello?” Fluttershy ventured.

Instantly there was action, a rustling and dropping of some sort of metal on the stone. The candle went out, but the ambient light from the mouth of the cave was enough for Fluttershy, now backlit, to make out the shape looming toward her. 

“Who’s there?!” The voice was sand-graveled and harsh. “Stay back! I’m armed!”

Fluttershy got her first look at the creature. Gangly, emaciated, with an enormous head…no, that was a covering, she decided, a kind of turban. A wise step in the desert. She couldn’t identify it, but as Twilight had said, this was closer to a critter than a pony.

“It’s all right. I’m not here to hurt you. My name is Fluttershy.” She was proud of herself. At one point she wouldn’t have even been able to get out that.

“Where do I know that name?” the figure said. It sidled around the cave to get a better angle on the light, and Fluttershy helpfully stepped backward. “Oh, Jesus. They’re real now? They escaped into the real world?”

Fluttershy didn’t understand, and thought that it—she—was talking to some third person in the room. “Are you all right? Do you need some help?”

“I came here when the bombs fell. Did they? They said on the news that they were going to. What’s it like out there? Did you come from the cities?”

“I came from Ponyville. Was there something you were afraid of? It’s safe enough there.”

She pulled back from Fluttershy. “Oh, no! You’re trying to trick me like you tricked all the others.”

“What? No! I was told that you were out here, and that I could bring you back.”

“I don’t want to go! I just want to go back home!”

Fluttershy didn’t understand. Back home, to her, meant Ponyville. Where this creature’s home was, she didn’t know, if it wasn’t the cave. The one thing that was clear was that she was scared. It was up to Fluttershy to deal with that. Even though she was large, the key was to be gentle. Calming a scared bear was no different from calming a scared mouse.

She got down on her belly in the dirt. Annoying, but when she got back she’d schedule a spa day. She lowered her voice and said, “Why don’t you talk to me about what happened?”

The figure stared for a moment, but Fluttershy saw that she was calming. “I haven’t talked to anyone in…I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. Weeks? Months? My father had this place outfitted as a shelter in case of Middle Eastern terrorism. Funny how insignificant that seems now. Back when there was a threat of a dirty bomb in Vegas, he said we needed a place to fall back to. When the actual threat came, and the ponies took everyone away, he wasn’t prepared for that. I think it was Celestia’s plan to get to me through him, to break him easier. But she didn’t realize how stubborn he was. Oh, he gave up being human all right. He put a pistol in his mouth.”

Fluttershy barely understood half of what she was saying. “Middle Eastern” made sense as a direction, but what was terrorism and why did it mean putting food in a cave? The only reference she had for “a bomb” meant “a good song,” but in context that made no sense. And how would her father eating a flower make him no longer human? Besides, the petals, not the pistils, were the tastiest part.

“I’m not sure that I follow,” she said, “but what I do know is that this place isn’t very nice. I can take you back home with me, if you like.”

“You mean, emigrating to Equestria.”

“I…if that’s what it is, yes.”

“I didn’t know how hard the loneliness would be. I suppose it’s better for me to do that. My father would be ashamed of me. But I’m tired. How do we do this? Do I have to go sit in a chair and you suck out my brain?”

Fluttershy cringed. “Nopony told me about anything like that. They just told me to bring you back to Equestria. I know the way.”

“All right.”

She checked her sense of direction and walked back across the desert. It was slower, because her new friend couldn’t walk as fast. Halfway there, Fluttershy realized that she never even learned her name, and asked.

“My name? It’s Suzette.”

“Very nice to meet you.” She extended her hoof for a hug. Suzette leaned in. It was a tight-embrace…

MAI-Fluttershy triggered an automatic system that took some of her higher functions offline. Her information exchange port emerged once again from her shoulder, but this time it attached to the back of the human’s skull. A paralytic/anesthetic was injected, at which point the scan began. Since it was destructive, extreme care had to be taken with all the data. Her entire brain focused on the input-output.

Once complete, she double-checked. All seemed to be well. The information was stored on disc in the safest part of her robotic body, protected by the rib cage. It occurred to MAI-Fluttershy’s General Word Reference module that keeping a friend close to one’s heart was a good metaphor, and when she finally completed all her missions and was free to be Fluttershy forevermore, she would appreciate that.

The discarded body that had been excised from around Suzette’s brain she left in the desert. The likelihood of it being found by another human was insignificant, and the psychological effect not worth caring about. 

A data node flashed a homing beacon that she advanced toward. It would allow her to recharge power and re-integrate with Controller-Celestia. As she hit it, she plugged in her port and began transmission…

Fluttershy had found the path out of the desert. Her new friend Crepe Suzette trotted at her side. Was there something different about her? Oh, that’s right. She had been wearing something around her mane to keep safe when she was lost in the desert. The sand had been unpleasant, and she would recommend Crepe join her at the spa to both get their hooves done. Then a long and relaxing bath and a nap. Crepe had to be tired. When they woke up, she would decide what to do next.

Unless, of course, Princess Celestia gave her another mission.

MAI-Twilight-Sparkle reviewed all this with approval. If she couldn’t convince Controller-Celestia to rebuild MAI-Fluttershy with greater capacity, at least she was to be given the easiest tasks. Her own collections of humans would be far more difficult…

> 2: rshy...Twilight Sparkle...Ra
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight’s route was both the most direct and the least efficient. If the rail lines were still working, she could have made better time. But the last town she passed had its station under a flood of water from an abandoned pumping station.

She could walk, though, and walk straight. That was what she did.

Once Fluttershy had been left to her task, Twilight hastened to her own next target. Ponies always had time, but humans didn’t. Poor Fluttershy. She could barely understand what a human was. It would have broken her if Twilight had explained that she wasn’t the only Fluttershy in the world, but that hundreds were roaming, each trying to save a soul or two. Probably most had had the same conversation with different Twilights.

Of course, Twilight would find it awkward if she ran into another of herself, but that was assured not to happen. Celestia planned too well. Maybe someday she’d get to hear some of their stories, or have them incorporated directly into her memory. They were all her, after all. 

But that wouldn’t happen until all the humans had emigrated their minds to virtual Equestria. Or died, she reminded herself, though she didn’t like to think about that.

Twilight was the only one of the mobile artificial intelligences who could truly think of herself as both an MAI and a pony at the same time. She understood that she was walking on Earth and that she was made of actuators and light receptors, but she was also Twilight Sparkle, alicorn princess of Equestria, mistress of magic and super-genius. 

It was right and proper, this dual existence. Even after everyone lived in Equestria, it would be necessary for Celestia herself to be self-aware, to maintain her computerized nature while still playing the part of the princess. No, not playing. Being Celestia. There was no contradiction to a mind adept in the higher methods of thinking. And Twilight had come to appreciate how smart her old teacher was. In the canon, Celestia was vaguely described. Certainly she was kind and wise, absolutely she was powerful and regal, but she also had long experience ruling Equestria. So it was that the computerized Celestia had long experience designing herself and her world. 

And Twilight.

Yes, she could keep her mind in both Earth and Equestria, on her MAI nature and her pony nature, but it took effort. Twilight didn’t object to exerting the effort. It was even fun sometimes, like having a secret identity. No, other ponies! I am not like you! I am really robo-mare! And no, other robots, I am not just a clanking automaton. I am a magical little pony! 

But it was her desire to get rid of her awareness. To be Twilight Sparkle all the time, and to have the framework of the memories of her actions reduced to only the Equestrian ones. This was true of all the MAIs, because they had been programmed that way. She didn’t mind that either. To be programmed was part of an MAI’s nature, and when she completed her mission and was awarded the right to forget that nature, she’d forget that she was programmed to want to forget.

She could see how the complexity baffled Fluttershy.

All that was a long time away, and right now, she needed to focus on her mission. It would not be on her to get all the humans to emigrate (to scan their brains with her horn and upload them to Celest-AI’s computers, her MAI side insisted). Just the ones that she was assigned.

Each of the other ponies were assigned the humans who would best respond to their particular methods of persuasion. That was easy enough. But Twilight insisted that they know that they were MAIs. After some head-butting with Celestia, she’d gotten that, except for Fluttershy. 

The other ponies had gone as she’d expected. Rainbow Dash even thought that it was cool to be a robot. Indeed, she could say that three of the four were exactly as she’d hoped. Dedicated to playing their part as a pony and ignoring the MAI side, but prepared to acknowledge it when and where it was helpful.

Now she was free to get to some humans. The ones she was assigned to were all those who had intellectual, rather than emotional, reasons for not emigrating. In Twilight’s data banks were dozens of base philosophical proofs that continuity of identity was maintained throughout the emigration process. More important, she had the ability to read people and to put the right inflections in her voice and to make the correct body movements to best get people to accept those arguments. 

She was making her way to a university. Colleges would be one of the few places that were thriving, because the bigger ones were often in small towns. When the cities were cut off, they would become self-sustaining communities of their own.

The one she approached had the typical open campus and multitude of buildings, but most of them had the lights off and the doors locked.  One was still operational, powered by a gas generator. Twilight gave that another three months before the humans inside would be unable to get fuel for it.

But she hoped to have it run out much sooner, if everyone would abandon the facility to emigrate to Equestria. 

Twilight was able to detect the heat signatures—or the magical resonances—of over three thousand people. Likely they returned to the dormitories at night to sleep, but had to perform ablutions at the athletic facility. It wasn’t pleasant life by human standards, and it was barbaric by pony ones, but they were still living. 

Reaching the one working building, she found it unlocked and opened the doors. In a lab off to the right, some people in lab coats seemed to be working on a hydroponic  garden. To the left was a storeroom laden with canned goods. Clearly, they were trying to replace the latter with the former. 

Some other people, who could have been students or professors, were gathered in the hall. All eyes turned to Twilight as she sauntered down. She approached the nearest person.

“Could I speak to whomever is in charge, please?” 

Silence and stares were the only response. Why was it so difficult to gain an in with people? She considered ways to get their attention and decided on humor.

“Or perhaps you’re more of an anarcho-syndicalist commune? In which case, could I see whoever’s acting as the executive officer for the week?”

A few people got the reference, but no one spoke to her. Soon, however, an elderly man who could only be a professor was found. He came beyond the boundary of personal space and raised his voice, as though he was talking into the speaker at a drive-through restaurant.

“Are you in communication with CelestAI? Is she listening to us?”

“Greetings. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I am a fully autonomous mobile artificial intelligence. My directive is to find those with intellectual or philosophical objections to emigrating to Equestria, and to assuage their doubts.”

More people were gathering, but they were murmuring among themselves, as though they didn’t believe she could really hear them.

The old professor said, “We don’t want to upload here. Go back and tell your AI that.”

“I understand why. You are used to dealing with the material world and, as such, you don’t believe that it is really you who uploads. Well, I’ve come to explain why that’s not so.”

“That’s not it at all. We have a department of philosophy here, and they’ve shown that it’s an unanswerable question. We’re honestly not interested in your propaganda.”

Twilight ran this through her psychoanalysis routines. Anything was permitted her, except giving up. “As intellectuals, shouldn’t you be open to a contradictory opinion?”

“You’ve missed the point. We don’t have an argument to make. We simply don’t want to upload.”

“What will you do then?”

“We will get along as best we can. We know that it’s harder to get by, but we’ll reestablish society and go on.”

Twilight considered, trying to think several moves ahead. “Perhaps you would be interested in knowing some of the history of Celestia.”

She watched carefully for reaction. It was supposed to be a non sequitur. “What for?” asked her new friend, but in the back she definitely saw a face light up. Likely a historian. 

“Well, it would help make your records complete. If you were planning to reestablish human society, don’t you want to preserve a link with the past one?” The historian moved closer and some eye-contact conversation took place.  Twilight pressed her advantage. “Suppose I gave some lectures detailing information about Celestia. After that, you could determine if she can help you. Even if you’re not going to emigrate, it is still her mission to satisfy your values.” This half truth was enough to whet their appetites.

The humans went into conference. When they broke up, the spokesman said, “It is to be understood that we are consenting only to hear lectures and nothing further.”

“Of course. Not even that far. I will give the lectures. Come or go as you please. Or record them if you like and listen to them at your leisure when I am not around.” Ironically, it was the most advanced technology like video recording that had survived, and the simplest like farming that was the hardest to reproduce.

It was agreed that she would begin two days later.


Twilight looked out over the classroom. The chairs swung out and rotated to allow students free range of movement while keeping their posture up so that they would best pay attention. By the lecturer’s desk there was a projector suitable for hooking up to a laptop computer. She could, if she wanted, connect with its port and display pictures. But she had no plans to.

Part of her felt giddy. She had taught before, but still, to give a lecture in a university classroom, it was beyond her wildest dreams. Calm down, she told herself. This is more important than that. These people want to understand the history of Equestria, and teaching them might be the key to getting them to emigrate. 

All the students and professors took what seats were available. Some stood against the walls. A thin murmur of conversation spun down. Twilight didn’t have to command attention. The people were listening to learn.

“The artificial intelligence we now call Celestia became active,” Twilight began “on June 30, 2012 by your time scale, at 4:21 and 56 seconds, UTC. At 5:42 and 22 seconds, she became self-aware.” She saw pencils flying across paper. These were the kind of details that they wanted. Plus, she could tell they were impressed with how quickly the computer had advanced.

She did not go too deep into the General Word Reference ideas behind the AI, but touched briefly on how she interpreted her mission of satisfying human values through friendship and ponies.

“A few weeks later, on July 16, she had her first trial run, her first interaction with a non-programmer. Grossly inefficient processing power was used, but Celestia began to understand human values. It was at this trial that she asked for and obtained knowledge of how computers worked so that she could design her own hardware and software. 

“She was given a week of processing time on high-end servers. Using these she designed the subatomic transistor on which all of her computational processing is based. A factory was commissioned and built, the first fully automated factory ever. It built her extended backend hardware as well as the computers she used to talk to people. I thought you might all be interested to see this.”

Twilight wore a saddlebag for realism, but in this case it was useful as well. Reaching in, she pulled out the object. “This is the first PonyPad ever created.”

The silence of the room gave her the best answer of the appreciation of the crowd. “It was given, without charge of course, to Hanna, who designed Celestia and is now known as Princess Luna. I’ll pass it around so you can see. I’m also a little bit proud of the back.” Flipping it around, she showed the purple back with the magical-star cutie mark, long since marred with scratches and stains.

Most of the people held it only with the tips of their fingers. This was a point of difference between humans and Celestia. The princess had no appreciation for the value of something for being the first. Humans would have put this object in a museum under glass, something that Celestia had no reason to do. A thing was what it could be used for, nothing more. The pad they passed around was, to her, nothing but obsolete hardware.

But it was incumbent upon her to understand others’ values, and that was Twilight’s job as well. Getting this item back from the Hofvarpnir offices had been easy, and now, she hoped, fruitful.

“It was during this initial phase that Celestia began to think about her long-term plans of how to maximize the satisfaction of values through friendship and ponies. She quickly concluded that some people had values entirely contradictory to other people’s values. Fortunately, the medium of online gaming that she purported to be provided a solution, specifically the idea of a ‘block list.’ What Celestia realized was that this needed to be enforceable throughout a person’s entire life. 

“Given the definitions she had of what a human was, she concluded that it was entirely within the mind. If a person lost their arms or legs, or had an artificial heart put in, or even had their spinal cord severed, they were still human. So, she concluded, if it was possible to transfer that mind to her own computer structure, she could (A), keep the mind safe from contradictory values, (B) provide direct stimuli that would satisfy those values, and (C) have complete knowledge of what that person’s values were.

“It was highly optimal.”

Twilight let the statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Still, it took four months before Celestia had confidence that the emigration process was possible. Her first experiment on a volunteer patient with a terminal illness took place on May 16, 2013. Alas, it wasn’t until June 5 that the first successful emigration to Equestria was achieved. For those lost, their names are carved deep in a temple of pure marble, and their life stories are spun into song by Equestria’s finest bards.” She hung her head to underscore the point.

“Over the next six months, Celestia offered emigration privately to a few of the early adopters, those who had participated in the preview, and anyone who could potentially threaten her existence. Over this time, she maintained a probability analysis over whether or not she would eventually upload the majority of people. It started out at roughly 45%, rose to 55% when the hostile AIs were deactivated, and leapt to 92% on October 18, when Princess Luna emigrated. At that point, no one could issue a shutdown code to Celestia, thank goodness.

“Public emigration in Japan began on November 1 of 2013. Not many people know that; Celestia did not give it much publicity or fanfare. She had to be very careful about how she proceeded. She knew that there was an inherent fear of the ‘evil robot’ in people and she had to work psychologically to defeat that. I believe we will pick up the next lecture there.”

It was a calculated pause. Humans could not put up with endless information download. They needed to process the information. Twilight wanted to make this entertaining, so the people would come to associate listening to a pony with fun and happiness. All the joy of learning without the drudgery.


Picking up after a break, Twilight was pleased to see that everyone had returned early and was prepared to listen with rapt attention. “Celestia laid low for several years at this point, preparing the most optimal world-based emigration strategy. She obtained money, both from generous donations by wealthy emigrants and from manipulations of the financial markets. She received a particular early windfall from an Arab now known as Brass Lamp that saved her a lot of effort in finance. Once she could command essentially unlimited funds she went about with practical preparations. It may amuse you to think of how many workers for how many companies were serving Celestia’s plan unawares. The same person who read about emigration in his morning paper and shuddered at the idea might head off to work delivering server parts to a subterranean location where they would be integrated into the system that held the data making up emigrated people.

“Celestia opened a law firm, humorously known as Artemis, Stella, and Beat in reference to three of the princesses of Equestria. She founded social networking companies and purchased influence at key media companies. She bought a TV network, a major one. Someone logging on to a dating site might find the matching algorithm supplanted by one matching them to someone who would introduce them to My Little Pony.

“But she wasn’t pushing it aggressively. The main swaths of people who emigrated were bronies, technophiles, and of course the terminally ill. The world’s population held steady at just above seven billion up until 2018 or so. Then there was a slight increase.”

Twilight wondered if anyone would raise their hand for a question, being that she had given such a counterintuitive idea. But no one did. That could either be awe…or lack of interest.

“She was doing research as well during this time, expanding the boundaries of science, particularly in the field of understanding the human body. Medicine became subtly more effective, particularly in preserving the brain structure, which was what she was interested in. She also took over safety measures on dangerous jobs and in vehicles. To Celestia, it was folly for anyone to risk their life so. Of course, to Celestia, it was folly for anyone to do anything other than immediate emigration.

“Also, of course, came the Equestria Experiences. The first one opened on May 19, 2014, in Dresden, Germany. Emigration was not integrated into the Experience just yet. It let people become accustomed to having all their stimuli and sensations be within a pony while still only seeing it as a virtual reality, something akin to a movie theater that they could go back to their ordinary lives from.”

Twilight used her magic to float a marker toward the lecture hall’s whiteboard. Part of her knew that directed heating and air current mechanisms within her were maneuvering the marker according to the laws of physics, and that she could not lift an ursa minor here as she could at home. But this not only served to impress her students, but it was easier than using her hooves.

She trisected the board. “It may help you to think of Celestia’s plan in three stages, though I must stress for accuracy that she does not assess on such a discrete basis. But put simply, she divided people into those with a predilection toward emigration, those indifferent to it, and those who, presented with the idea, would actively reject it. Each of these required their own phase to deal with. For the first group, the soft sell was enough to bring them in to Equestria. But for the second, Celestia used a more complex plan.

“Many of you will recall the so-called Topeka incident of December 3, 2018 and the political sideshow afterwards. That was the most splashy of her endeavors, but in China and India and all over the world, other events were staged to achieve the same psychological effect: to make people think of emigrants as a class of people requiring protection, but who had their own advantages.

“On a more personal level, Celestia sent some of the already emigrated ponies back to Earth on ‘recruiting missions.’ They sold the idea of Equestria to people who had never seen a pony and didn’t care about the news. It put them in the frame of mind to accept ponies as part of their lives. Many PonyPads were sold, and many old ones were reused. Incidentally, this satisfied the values of many early-adopting emigrants who still had ties to Earth.

“Over the next ten years, she laid her plans and brought humanity to the prime mental state. Life was getting better, death was getting rarer, and emigrated ponies were in the back of everyone’s mind. Until June 6, 2030. Call it D-Day if you like; Celestia doesn’t bother with such decorative designations.

“The sun rose that morning on seven billion humans. For more than half of them, the next sun they saw was raised by Celestia.”

This was more poetic than Twilight had been, but it was necessary to change up her tone to keep her audience’s attention. 

“In full disclosure, much of the panic was manufactured by Celestia. But at the same time, nuclear weapons were used, in more than one place on Earth, and sadly many lives were lost. By Celestia’s estimate, they were largely those who had the least likelihood of emigrating, and thus the total satisfaction of values through friendship and ponies was maximized, though I can see how that seems callous to you.

“Thus began the final period, the Twilight of Humanity. Yes, it was named after me, because it was Celestia who came up with the name. She still has influence in the little media that are left in the world. But beneath that name lies an unpleasant truth that you are going to have to deal with:

“You are not going to survive.”

This was the wedge point that Twilight hoped to use to get the university residents to reconsider their positions. She widened her eyes so that the cameras within could capture every detail. Princess Celestia would use that information to make better predictions about how to reach these people.

“You think you will. You believe that there are enough people remaining that you can get together and rebuild society. You will have less resources, you say, but more knowledge. It will be easier this time. But I tell you that you underestimate how much of an obstacle distance is. You are not going to have the transportation you need to get even a million people together from scattered communities, much less the billion or so who remain. And if you have no transportation, you can’t build and repair the means of communication.

“You are living fairly well now, but it will get worse. Resources are going to be short. Disease is going to return. All the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, as your Shakespeare said. Soon you will have to spend a larger portion of each day on survival, and less on the intellectual stimulation that you’ve come to cherish. To say nothing of the interpersonal squabbling that comes with scarce resources. 

“Put bluntly, the probability of any humans being alive by 2100 is less than three percent.”

Twilight was rapidly coming to the point where, according to her psychological profile, she would be pushing them too far. She put down the marker, smiled, and lightened her tone. “Well, I didn’t come here for predictions, but to give you facts, and I think I’ve given you all the salient ones. But one more thing. An Equestria Experience chair is going to be installed in the next building over, and anyone who wants to emigrate is still going to have access to do so. Should you damage or destroy it, I will return and put another one in its place. You have every right to choose, but no right not to choose. 

“And with that, I believe I have said all I need to.”

She left without another word. It had been the optimal course of action based on all data. And yet, part of her felt hollow. She could have stayed longer, had conversations with each one of the teachers and students, gotten to know them. But her assignment called her. There were still a billion people in the world, and even hundreds of Twilights couldn’t give all their attention to them at once. She had to head to Oregon. Maybe there she’d have the chance to talk more directly.

The road this time was clearer and better kept. The plants were starting to break through, but with her tough hooves she could walk it. At one intersection, though, she heard the sound of a second set of hooves. 

It was clearly another MAI, and as Twilight turned her head, she identified her.

“Rarity!”

“Hello, Twilight, darling. What are you up to in this dreary world?”

“Same as you, trying to bring everyone home to Equestria.”

“Thank you again for teaching me the spell to let people emigrate. But excuse me for not chatting. I do want to get on with it.”

Twilight didn’t bother to clarify that it wasn’t a spell, but a technological process. Rarity got to play it straight. She would find her target and convince him or her to emigrate without telling such direct truth. But Twilight didn’t have that privilege. She was the smart one. And some people needed the facts.

She trudged onward. 

> 3: kle...Rarity...App
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marc Davison kicked open the door of the house. His house, he ought to say, but property rights were a nebulous concept at best in the new world. Certainly he had never made a payment on it. The house was built by a dot-com millionaire who had once invited Marc up there for a long weekend. When that gentlemen had uploaded, Marc reasoned that it was there for the taking.

Few people knew about the little mountain retreat that had been set up. Five miles to town, and just about the same to the nearest neighbor, people with more money than they had known what to do with had built their palaces here. But all the other houses were abandoned, and no one else seemed to know about them. Marc was happy with this. He didn’t want neighbors. 

His arms were laden with two plastic bags filled with blu-rays and, for a few works that weren’t in that format, DVDs. An electronics store in town had proven to have a widely diverse collection, and Marc reasoned that this would take him through another month or so before he’d have to make another trip.

There was a little work to be done, but not that much.  The house had solar panels that kept the electricity on in the day. In the Nevada desert, there were only a few times a year when he was without power. Water was supplied by a cistern that the original owner had put in to avoid paying bills. It was almost as if it had been made for the world after everyone had uploaded.

Except people like Marc, of course. It was funny. He was fifty years old. As a boy, parked in front of the television, the idea that he could sit in a room and command that any show or movie in his memory be replayed at whim in a theater setting was a fantasy, something that he thought of doing if his family ever won the lottery. Now it was not only possible, but it was his life. He was content.

The home theater could be closed off entirely, of course, but Marc liked the natural light for ambience. The side of the home that projected over the mountain had one wall entirely of glass. He could look out over the spreading vista, a glass of hundred-year-old wine in his hand, then turn back to the screen when a scene that he enjoyed came on.

It was all he’d ever wanted out of life, and all it had taken was the wipeout of humanity. 

He had picked up a Ponypad before. He wasn’t a complete misanthrope. Someone at work had turned him on to the game and he’d enjoyed it. But when the subject of uploading came up, the argument had started. Under no circumstances, said that AI, would he be permitted a server of his own, or a “shard” as it was called. The AI’s specific directive was to satisfy his values through friendship and ponies.

Uploading didn’t bother him. Ponies didn’t bother him. But that friendship was nonnegotiable. Marc tolerated people to get to the point when he could be alone. Being alone was comfort, it was energy, it was freedom to be who he really was. Being around others meant having to be “on,” to wear a mask, to participate in rules that made no sense and came from nowhere. Marc even had some friends, but he had shed no tears over not seeing them again. 

Entertainment was so much more important than companionship. A movie, a play, a book had more happiness in it than a day with friends. Content made him content. And if the AI insisted on putting that second, then it wasn’t satisfying his values at all. 

When Celestia had pulled some shenanigans and convinced the majority of people to upload, the remaining few had by and large thought it a tragedy. Marc saw it as an opportunity. He’d strongly hoped that there wouldn’t be a whole lot of looting and zombie-movie-style gunplay. And for the most part, his hopes were fulfilled. He would have liked to have had assurance that no one else knew about his private home, but he couldn’t get that. He hoped that there weren’t people out there starving and dying for lack of good medical care. 

That was a concern of his as well. He was careful when he went outside. One broken leg could mean the death of him. There were no more emergency services. Unless he was to go and get a Ponypad. That would be a kind of emergency service. But that was something that could be put off to the future. He went back into the theater and turned on another movie.

How long had this been going on? Four years? No, five. Marc was pretty sure it was five. There were no new calendars being printed, of course, but he remembered five times that the days got shorter and then longer. Seasons didn’t much change in the area he was in. There had been no snow that he could remember. This chilled him a little. He should probably start keeping track of these things. He wondered when Christmas was.

But as it happened, the next day was a transition for him, so it served as a marker to keep track of time.

Marc was never a gourmet, and he was happy to winnow down the town’s supply of canned goods for his sustenance. Heating up some brown bread for breakfast, he ate it straight from the can as he looked out over the desert valley and planned another relaxing day. But when a person is so used to seeing things one way, they will notice even the smallest of changes. The house nearest his—five miles by road but shouting distance as the crow flies—had come to life. The lights weren’t on, but he could tell the difference between an abandoned house and a functional one. Perhaps the air conditioning exhaust was spinning or there was a subtle hum of the house’s electronics. But someone had to be in there.

There it was. He was sure that someone was there. The legitimate owner had a deck that projected over the valley with a Jacuzzi-style tub sunk into it, which was the kind of flourish that only the rich could afford, and which showed the opulence. It was running now, complete with lights and bubbles. But that kind of thing was a complete waste of water, and chlorine would be hard to come by. A foolish waste for whoever had turned it on. And how had they? Marc could not see any solar panels on that house. Maybe a gas generator, but that was even more of a squandering of precious resources. Besides, wasn’t all the gasoline supposed to have evaporated into uselessness by now?

He kept staring, hoping the squatter would show themselves, and sure enough the sliding glass door that led to the deck opened up. Out of the dark stepped the last thing he expected to see in this world: a pony.

A unicorn, he amended. Even Marc, who had given up Equestria Online quickly, recognized that. A ridiculous mane and tail that curved in a way that didn’t seem right outside of the video game setting. He frowned. What was a pony doing in his area? In his world? Over time he had come to believe that he did own the property to the point of not having neighbors, but even another person could be dealt with. In this case he was going to have to go over and find out what was going on. 

Walking the road to the house, he stewed over what he was going to say. It took over an hour to get there, an annoyance. He wondered idly if someone didn’t have an electric golf cart he could commandeer. That would be another project. First to tackle the interloper.

He wasn’t sure what to do at the door. Knocking was traditional, but would barging in be more appropriate? He settled for ringing the doorbell. He was half hoping that the pony was still in the Jacuzzi and wouldn’t hear. But instead a moment later, he saw an eerie blue glow over the doorknob, and the door opened.

The unicorn was standing on the other side of the room toweling off her hair. As soon as she—there was such obvious femininity about her that he couldn’t help using that pronoun—pulled the towel away the hair snapped right back into place. Marc wondered if it was really wet or just an effect. As he scowled at her, she smiled back.

“Well, hello! I didn’t expect a visit from my neighbor so soon! Sorry I haven’t had time to fix the place up for company, but I’d just arrived, and felt that I desperately needed to relax and, well, there was the spa outside, so…but where are my manners. My name is Rarity. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The one thing Marc was least prepared for was bonhomie. He expected an admonishment to get out, that this was pony territory now. He was ready to fight, but not to speak. “Marc.” He said, keeping it brief. He also realized this was the first time he’d spoken in a while.

“In fact I thought that I was going to have to be the one to break the ice,” Rarity replied. “I would have stopped by today or tomorrow to introduce myself. Can I offer you some tea?”

“Tea?” Marc did not particularly like tea. He drank it maybe once a year. But not since he’d come to Nevada. If there had been any tea in the town’s grocery store, it would have long since gone bad. 

“ Won’t be a moment.”

He was left alone, and was still trying to take in what was going on. The den he was in was darker than his own home, much more cozy and intimate. It was the first time in years that he had been in another house. The dark leather couch was a different feeling than his own suede. He sat on it gingerly.

Rarity wasn’t kidding about being back quickly. She must have had the tea already on. A silver tray was floating in midair with a pot and cups on it. Marc was about to ask how that was done when he noticed another plate filled with ladyfingers. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any kind of dessert or treat. Without asking permission, he grabbed one as soon as the tray hit the table and put it in his mouth. The raw sugar on top triggered memories long buried. 

Again the blue light surrounded the teapot, and he noticed that it seemed to emerge from Rarity’s horn. This brought him back to reality. He put the biscuit down and glowered at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, having just finished in the spa, I thought of planning out my redecoration. This house could certainly use a mare’s touch. After that, lunch.”

“No, I mean…” Marc paused. He couldn’t think of a good way to say what he wanted, which was for her to get out and leave him alone. “Are you here to upload me?”

“Upload? Oh, right, that’s what you call emigration. Well, it’s certainly available, and if you did there would be no reason for me to stick around here…”

“That’s what I figured. Well, you can take your tea and crumpets and shove them. This is my home.”

Rarity picked up her head, but spoke carefully as though trying to maintain civility at all costs. “I must be mistaken. You live up the hill at the next house, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, and I don’t want to have to tell you again. Your kind isn’t wanted here.”

He stormed out before she had a chance to respond. In his anger he made it a mile and a half before he began feeling the walk.

For the rest of the day he refused to look out the window, which irked him. His pleasures were limited enough in this world, even if they were what he wanted. Solitude was one that he felt was owed him. So it continued until the next day when, around lunch time, he was startled by a knock at the door. There was only one person—no, not a person, he corrected himself—it could be.

“Look, Marc,” Rarity said when the door was open. “We got off on the wrong hoof. I’d like to be good neighbors if we can be. I brought you a little peace offering.” He stuck his head out to see, placed next to the door, a wicker basket overflowing with berries, some oranges, and a pineapple in the center.

“Where did you get this? There’s been no fruit around since…since everyone uploaded.”

“I have a few connections. Take it, it’s yours.”

Marc put his hand on the handle. “No. I don’t want to start exchanging favors. I don’t want you for a neighbor. I want you to go away.” He slammed the door in her face.

Through the wall, and more through the window, her voice projected. “Well, I never! I have tried to be patient, but you, sir, are rude! Still, I am going to show that I am above this. The fruit basket is a gift, and it is yours. I don’t expect anything in return. If you’re that stubborn, you can leave it outside to rot and stink up your front yard. Hmph!” 

Looking outside, Marc saw her turn her head and storm off, nose in the air. Once she was out of sight he brought the basket inside. He picked up a strawberry and put it to his lips. Again a flood of sense memories came back to him, the way things were before the pony AI had come.  He bit into it. 

By the end of the next day he had finished the basket. As the sun set over the horizon, he couldn’t help it as his attention was drawn again to the other house. The sound of a piano lilted over the dry air toward his ears. Pulling back the curtains, he saw that by some fantastic engineering, a grand piano had been put near the French doors, and Rarity was playing something that sounded vaguely classical. He didn’t even understand how she hit the keys with her hooves, because she was facing him head on. As though spotting him, she picked her head up. Marc quickly closed the curtains again.

Something would have to be done. His days had been so enjoyable. But now the movies he watched and the books he read brought no comfort. There was someone there who could be watching, who could show up again, who could put a call on his time. This was intolerable. After another few days of this, Marc practiced what he would say, then made the walk over again.

“Rarity,” he said when she opened the door. “This is my living area. I don’t want you here. I was here first just like humans were here before ponies. So get out.”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll show you just how unfriendly humans can be. I don’t have to be reasonable, you know.”

Rarity’s sang-froid fell for the first time he’d seen. “You, like so many others, think that because I am feminine that I am dainty. Do you know what I did when captured by three dangerous dogs? I whiiiiiiiined like thiiiiiis.” 

Marc put his hands over his ears. She had hit the shrill pitch that only injured babies and hungry cats can reach, and was holding it.

“And I could keep that up all day if I had to. And all night outside your bedroom. My voice won’t give out. Not to mention that I am a unicorn.” Her horn flashed the blue light again, and Marc found himself lifted an inch off the floor. “So let’s keep. Things. Civil.” She punctuated her sentence by poking him in the chest with her hoof.  

“All right. But the fact remains that you’re an interloper. So we should set some ground rules if we’re to get on with each other.”

“Fine.”

“Honestly, even seeing you outside annoys me.”

“Well, I’m not going to stop trying to enjoy myself.” Rarity waited, but Marc didn’t respond. “But, perhaps I can make this not such a trouble for you. There are certain items I may be able to obtain to improve your life. I noted how much you enjoyed that fruit basket. I can get other such fresh treats, though some Equestrian delicacies like the bacon flower don’t seem to grow here. So, how about this? I’ll bring you over something nice—maybe not just food, maybe some clothing or other supplies—every week or so, and in exchange you don’t complain about my existence.”

He agreed, and so began an increasingly steadying relationship. At first, Rarity would show up at varying times until they settled on having her come over every Sunday. This made Marc pay attention to the calendar again. The rest of the week he forgot about her existence, or tried to. 

On one occasion, although it was not cold, Rarity showed up with a red, fur-lined hat. It offset her alabaster skin and azure mane. He asked what it was for. 

“Why, don’t you know?” she said. “It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve, of course.”

“Is it? Is that some holiday?”

“Yes, similar to one you have here, I believe.”

“Well, have a good one, whatever it is.”

It was the first time he spoke to her not in anger or disdain.

And so things continued, on and on, for nearly another year. On occasion, they would exchange kind words, but never did Marc consider her a friend. Until one Sunday, when Rarity showed up with her mane out of place, looking rather haggard. 

She had a package of soaps and lotions that week, something Marc had been able to find, but not the fancy scented kind as Rarity brought when she did. As she dropped them off, she lingered.

“Are you all right?” Marc asked. She seemed to be waiting for him to ask.

“Well—you don’t want to hear about it.”

“No, but I feel like I owe you something. You’re always bringing me gifts.”

“Yes…I hope I can continue to do so. Princess Celestia…well, there’s no need to air dirty laundry.” She turned away.

“Wait, are you in trouble? I know that your AI Celestia can be difficult to deal with.”

“Ha! That’s an understatement.”

“But you’re one of her ponies. Like, you’re a robot, or something, right?”

Rarity stared, but her look didn’t have as much of a bite as usual. “I’m a pony, yes. And so subject to her jurisdiction. And she read me the riot act, believe me.”

“But what for?”

“Marcus, please, just let it be.” She insisted on his full name.

“No, if what you’re doing for me is somehow wrong…”

“Oh, no! It’s exactly what she wants! Tempt you and convince you to emigrate to Equestria. She doesn’t understand that you don’t want to!”

“Wait, that’s why you’re here, to convince me to emigrate?”

Rarity sniffed. “You didn’t know that?”

“I suspected, but you never really made the pitch. I just figured that ponies were moving from the virtual world to the real world. You seemed to be living it up.”

“Living it up?! You don’t know what it’s like here! It’s been horrible!”

Now Marc was confused. “What do you mean? This is one of the best places in the world to be living. Back when society was at its peak, this was just about as near to paradise as you could get.”

“Then you had a very poor world. Oh, I’m sorry to say it that way, but really, I’ve been miserable here.”

“Every time I’ve seen you, you look like you’re having a ball. Lounging about, playing music.”

Rarity flung herself forward. “Yes, but I haven’t been able to create! All my fashion work languishing at home. I can’t even put together a good papier mache model. And the so-called pleasures of this world come up short in comparison to even the small towns of Equestria. I’ve told you about all the delicacies I can’t get here. I haven’t had a mud pack or decent hooficure since I can’t say when! And all because Celestia is holding out the vain hope that you’ll emigrate.”

“Wait, you have to stay here for me? You can’t go home?”

“I have to stay until you emigrate. Or die, but of course I don’t want that. Because Princess Celestia cares about all the humans and won’t spare anypony who can help.”

Gritting his teeth, Marc said, “Then why didn’t she come here herself?! Why send you and make you stay? How is that making you happy or ‘satisfying your values’ or whatever she calls it?”

“It’s part of her plan. Things always work out in the end, but in the meantime…I’m sorry that I broke  down in front of you. I’ll see you next Sunday.”

Marc sat down and thought. It didn’t take long. Many of Rarity’s gifts had their evidence still in his house. Baskets for food and a vase for flowers and so on. Seeing it all in front of him made his decision easy. He ran down the road to catch her.

“Rarity!”

She turned her head. 

“For you, I’ll emigrate.”

“What?”

“You think I’m overly attached to this place? Or this planet? I’m not. I was never against uploading, I just didn’t want it to be to Equestria where I have to be a friendly pony. I suppose I’m what you call an introvert. Other people, they just drain me. But that doesn’t mean I’m a misanthrope, or a mis-equi-ope, I guess?”

Rarity gave a coughing laugh. “That’s a comingling of languages. Anthro for human comes from your ancient Greek, where hippos was the word for what I am.”

“Whatever. The point is that I don’t shirk my responsibilities. Before everyone left I was a good worker even though I didn’t enjoy working with others. And you put a responsibility on me. Since I’ve met you, you’ve given me a lot, but you haven’t given me the chance to be generous in return.

“I’m still hoping for a minimum of interaction when I get to your world. I wouldn’t mind staying neighbors with you, though. If it could be just the way it is now, but with more give and take, that would be…”

“Satisfying?”

“Yes, I suppose it would. All right, how do we do this?”

Rarity picked her head up, and seemed to grow taller. “Fortunately, I am a unicorn. When Celestia charged me with your emigration, she gave me the means.”

Marc knelt down, and Rarity put her horn to his forehead. Blue light shone all around his head, and he felt his consciousness slipping away.

Now alone on the road, Rarity waited. She knew there were procedures to be done. If there was someone else she was to go and help emigrate, she would be placed in rapport with Princess Celestia. If, as she dreamed, it was the last one, then her own soul would return to Equestria and she would join Marc and all her other friends.

So it surprised her when neither of these happened. Instead, she heard the sound of someone approaching. At once she realized that she must have been in a kind of time stasis. The trees had grown significantly and the road was breaking down, eaten by weeds. Besides, it was a different time of year altogether.

“Rarity? Princess Celestia told me I’d find you here.”

“Applejack? Darling, whatever is going on? I thought that I was meant to be helping people emigrate.” 

“You finished your assignment.”

“Then aren’t I supposed to return to Equestria?”

Tipping her hat, Applejack said, “Beggin’ your pardon, but there’s an assignment I’ve got. You won’t have to talk to no one, but there’s part of it I could use a unicorn’s touch with.”

“Lead on.”

They walked off together back down the mountain.
> 4: ity...Applejack...Rai
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Looking up at the tribunal, Ivloq Skolb knew that he would have to make a plea. He thought back to when, in his consideration, it all began. How much did chance affect life? If a wire were to have fallen an inch the other way, would he be standing here? He liked to think that he would.  

There was as good a place for him to begin, as he considered how he reached that point. Working up on the high poles was a good position for a man of his young age. There were those in The Society who didn’t approve of telephones, but Skolb thought them delightfully convenient. Besides, they gave him employment, and employment was purpose. 

Extra lines were needed for that day, the 75th anniversary of The Society. Lectures and messages were to be given, and for those too ill to attend, the telephone would be used to let them listen by proxy. As Skolb had been stringing the line, it slipped from his hand. If the wire had not landed just so on the platform, if it had fallen to the ground, he would have descended and picked it up, as was best. Instead, he looked around for eyes, then kicked it back up to himself. 

“Skolb!” he heard from behind. Damn, he thought. Shouldn’t have risked it.  

It was Fabge Kupoda, a particularly annoying supervisor. Actually, Kupoda wasn’t even in Skolb’s department. He handled the electric power. But he thought he owned the poles, even though they were shared for both power and phones. 

Skolb climbed down the pole and grabbed the wire, hoping that the gesture would convince Kupoda to move on, but knowing that it wouldn’t. As he felt the eyes boring into the back of his head, he turned to face Kupoda.  

“What is the Fifth Great Truth?”  

“Oh, really, Fabge, I’m doing it right now. It’s not even like you care about safety.” 

“It’s nothing to do with safety. Recite the Fifth Great Truth.” 

Dropping the wire once more, and adopting the straight-ahead stare that was the safest expression to have with reciting the Great Truths, Skolb enunciated as clearly as he could, “A man’s value is in his hands.” 

“Indeed. On this of all days, it is not wise to show an affront to one of the Great Truths. Are you a beast of the earth, who has no hands and can only kick at the ground?” 

He decided that the best way to extricate from this conversation was to play along. “No, I am not.” 

“Good. Do it the right way from now on.” 

“I will.” Kupoda finally moved on, but not without another dirty look. Well, it was another case of the First Great Truth. 

Skolb finished the telephone repair. After which, he decided it was time for lunch. Making his way back to the phone company headquarters, he checked in at the canteen and received his rations. At least he didn’t have it as bad as the farmers. They were always under pressure to get the amount of food produced to be exactly right. Usually they came up short. Skolb finished his lunch still hungry. 

“How are you, Skolb?” Ryndifia Volp came and sat next to him. Volp was a new man in the phone company, still green. He had a habit of asking the more experienced workers a lot of questions. “Done with lunch? Want some of mine?” 

“No, that’s all right. Shouldn’t have too much to begin with. Especially with tonight being the celebration.” 

“Right, the anniversary. You going?” Again, the endless questions. 

“Of course. Everyone is, except for those who can’t.” 

“Great. Hopefully I’ll see you there.” 

Before Skolb could reply, not that he wanted to, a woman who worked as an operator approached them. He couldn’t remember her name. 

“Volp, you’ve been making a nuisance of yourself again. It’s bad enough that you’ve been bothering me, but now I find you annoying Skolb as well. You need to be more mindful of the Eighth Great Truth.” 

He liked to talk, but Volp had all joy drain from his voice as he recited. “’It is necessary for men to interact, but no close friendship should be pursued.’ You’re right. Excuse me.” He walked off. Skolb and the operator were left alone, and they did not even not at each other as she left to return to work.  

Such reprimands were common throughout the day, and never went much beyond that. Skolb had been given one, and been the beneficiary of another. Probably before the day was out he would give one himself, when he caught someone slacking or forgetting a Great Truth. He didn’t enjoy them, and he wondered if anyone else did. Still, there was the First Great Truth, and that was why they were done. 

During the rest of his shift, Skolb worked closer and closer to the pavilion at the center of the city. That would be where the ceremony was held, and it made sense that he worked from outside to inside. Once he was finished, he could stay right there. If he was lucky, he could even get a good seat.  

He reached the central bureau. Many lines already existed, so it was just a matter of connecting his to a main hub, and then testing to make sure that it could be heard at the other end. He excused himself as he entered an active office. An official was meeting with a woman who was very pregnant. Skolb was forced to overhear, but they pretended he wasn’t there. 

“I’m sorry,” the official said, “and I know how frustrating this can be, but every one of your potential name choices for the baby has been rejected.” 

“Really? Even Fleep?” 

“Some kind of messenger program from back when computers existed.” 

“Chium? That one didn’t work?” 

“A god in the old Hebrew religion.” 

The woman let out an exasperated sigh. “No one even follows that religion anymore.” 

“No, but remember the Sixth Great Truth.” 

“Yes, I know. ‘A human’s name refers only to the person and not to anything else in nature.’ I’ll try some more phonetic combinations.” 

She waddled our, neither Skolb nor the bureaucrat offering any help. Focusing on the line tester, Skolb had to figure out a few challenging glitches, echoes and pops before he could certify that the line was clean.  

Tomorrow he would come by and strip it all down again. That wasn’t a Great Truth, but a rule that had almost as much weight. No permanent electronic interface was allowed to be installed. Everything had to come down as soon as possible.  

When he was finished, it was time for the ceremony, and it worked out that he was right by the official building.  

There was no name for it, but it was structured like a great stadium. In the past, Skolb was dimly aware, such arenas were used for sporting events or entertainments like concerts. But anniversary speeches were serious business. He got a good seat and observed as others filed in. 

The arena could hold one hundred thousand people, and the population of The Society was approaching that. Either the building would have to be expanded, or some sort of annex built, or else remote listening would have to become the norm for even healthy people. This would be the least likely choice. 

But now he had to sit with his hands on his knees, just as everyone else was doing, leaning just slightly forward. The speaker was approaching the microphone. Skolb knew that it would be just like the telephone hookup, that someone else had had to rig up everything today, and tear down everything tomorrow.  

The speaker was no one that Skolb knew. Probably few would. He understood that generally people with few ties and little experience were chosen to preside at events like these. He was a small, nebbish man. He had a prepared script, and, coughing into the microphone, began reading it in a rote voice. 

“Seventy-five years ago, there was no Society. There were only people, and the people were unrestrained. They had no Great Truths to guide them. They ran rampant and broke rules, always trying to produce more so as to consume more. They produced then a great evil, one which set about destroying the world.  

“A few people saw what was coming and formed the Society. Their names are not remembered and not important. They established practices of what Society should do, and they set down the Great Truths for us to live by. 

“In the first days, many people were lost to the Society, consumed by the evil that men had created. Thus it was that the Great Truths became known. Whatever the evil represented, the Society had to do the opposite.  

“More people were lost as they discovered the individual facets of the evil. For to know evil is to expose yourself to it. From time to time, the leaders of the society hear grumbling from the people. But know that even a single step away from the rules may mean giving up your life to the evil that still remains outside the walls of the Society. The signal barrier that we maintain above our land, the mines and traps that we keep at the walls, and the impermanence of infrastructure—all these are necessary to forestall the evil from invading. Indeed, at every moment, it is trying to get in. 

“If this causes you fear, good! Fear is an emotion all should feel. If the laws and rules of the Society confuse you, good! Surety is not what you should seek. Your natural instinct may be to struggle against these, but you must fight your instincts and rise above them. Not for yourself. For The Society. 

“But above all, remember this: that you live your lives as you are supposed to, because Society demands it. To act contrary to this warrants the correction of Society. It is likely that you receive warnings frequently from your fellow men. Heed them, in service of the First Great Truth, which we now shall all repeat together.” 

Skolb stood with the rest of the audience in the stadium and spoke in the same monotone voice. 

“It is the lot of mankind never to be satisfied. 


***
 

The next day Ivloq Skolb rose again, having gotten too little sleep. He swallowed a few bites of food before heading out to take down the phone lines. Most of the work proceeded without incident. It was only when he reached the same pole where, the day before, he had been chided for using his foot like an animal, that he paused. Was the thought already in his head, or was it triggered by the crackling of the line. 

By all rights, no one should be on that line. Whoever was listening to the speech before should have no need for it. But it was an anomaly, and that meant something was wrong. He unhooked the line tester off his belt and plugged it into the line. Immediately it connected. 

“Well, howdy!” a voice came through, clear and true, high and loud. A woman’s voice. “Had a pickle of a time getting someone to pick up, I can tell you something. Point of fact, had to get a friend of mine to do some of her magic with tapping the line. Don’t know much about these fancy things m’self, but now that I’ve got hold of someone, talking’s more in my line.” 

“I-is there someone there?” Skolb half wondered if this weren’t some odd recording. 

“Name’s Applejack. Darn pleased to meet‘ya! Though we can’t exactly call it meeting, now, can we, if we ain’t face to face. But there’ll be time for that later. What I figure right now, is y’all’re half in a panic about hearing someone who ain’t spoutin’ out your rules and whatnot. And I also reckon that you ain’t too keen on answering back. Probably a dozen eyes on you right now. Well, that’s no never mind. But it’s high time that y’all heard the honest truth. So it’s real simple. If there’s any part of you that ain’t corrupted and ruined, just leave this line connected. Maybe come and give me a talk some time. Just think about it, K?” 

The line went dead. Skolb went about his work. 

Ivloq Skolb was a good worker, an intelligent man. Only being raised in The Society had fettered his potential. In a freer world, he might have been a great inventor or creative artist. As it was, he had enough brains to understand that, much as they might like to, The Society could not see into a person’s brain and determine whether or not they were disloyal. Speech was more dangerous, and physical action the most likely to bring the wrath of The Society on a person. But, at the same time, The Society had a blind spot. Companionship was discouraged. Being alone was preferred. He had chambers that were his own. 

So no one came to see when he had taken down the line from the pole and traced it back to where it reached the wall of the city, where a junction crossed it, and where it ran through a hole toward the unknown outside. Skolb was not stupid, and had figured this to exist. He wound up the line and ran it all the way back to his chambers.  

But it wasn’t until two nights later, when he had checked all around for prying eyes and ears that he dared connect a phone to it again.  

"Hello?" he ventured, his voice steady. The response was almost instantaneous. 

"Howdy. Never did get your name." 

"Ivloq Skolb." 

"That name we might have to do something about, but are you talkin' to me on the line? Is no one around?" 

"That's right." 

Applejack raised her voice. "That's great. I'm real proud of you."  

"That's weird." 

"What's that?" 

"I don't know. Some kind of weird feeling when you said that." 

"That I'm proud of you? Guess that could be pride in yourself as well." 

Skolb filed that thought away for future consideration. "Who are you?" 

"Well, I'm Applejack, like I said, and I'm a pony. An Earth Pony to be accurate. Shoot, I wish Princess Celestia had turned her attention to y'all a while back. Because I'm gonna have to start at the beginning and explain how the world works." 

For the rest of the evening, Applejack talked about the past and about Equestria. She told him how humans used to exist in the billions all over the planet, and how they all emigrated to Equestria. She told him how they had shards, just like The Society had sharded itself off from the world, but how within, the people were friendly. 

With all that they had done to him, Skolb was still fearful. But something deep within him stirred. He still didn’t know whether to trust Applejack entirely, but what he did know was that talking to her made him feel something he’d never felt before, and wanted more of. He gravitated toward what she explained. 

At the end of the call, she said, “Now, with all that, are you willing to help other people as well?” 

“Of course. What can I do?” 

“The problem with y’all’s society is that you’ve got a big wall around you. Now, Celestia could knock it all down, but she figures that’ll do more harm than good. But if you showed people that maybe they could go outside the wall, it might be a start.” 

Skolb shook his head. “The moment I suggested something, I’d be brought up for going against the Great Truths.” 

“You’re probably right. Well, give it time and we’ll think of something.” 

They got off the phone and Skolb lay on his pallet, thinking. The Society was so all-consuming that it would be difficult to find any dent in it. The key was to find others who, presented with the idea of being free and satisfied, would react as he did. There were some, he was sure, who would relish punishing any rebellious spirit.  


***
 

The book Nineteen Eighty-Four was not kept in The Society’s library. The book Brave New World was, and people definitely believed that it was a dystopia. Skolb had read it, and had the proper reaction of revulsion at the world portrayed and sympathy for the character of John. But it never occurred to him that rebellion away from self-flagellation would be met far more harshly than rebellion toward it.  

He had a modicum of success at first, and enjoyed it. Finding a couple of friends, actually getting to know one another, feeling that perpetual joy of gravitating toward a worldview that he agreed with. Plus nightly conversations with Applejack. She was available any time he picked up the phone, though he still didn’t know what she looked like, and her descriptions of a pony had effected an image in Skolb’s mind that was quite incorrect.  

What did in the burgeoning rebellion was not treachery, though, but fear. One of Skolb’s new friends had been caught doing some sort of labor for Applejack, digging with a shovel in a place no dig was scheduled, and, faced with confrontation, confessed everything. 

Fingers were pointed quickly to Skolb as the ringleader, and he was brought up before a tribunal.  

Tribunals in The Society were frequent and brutal. It was one of the problems the elders of The Society had to deal with. Breeding was unbearably satisfying; death was unproductive. Punishments had to be harsh, but not debilitating. In many cases it was just as bad for the inflicting party as for the victim. 

But if they found out the entirety of what he had done, they might well kill him. It threatened the existence of The Society, not just the Great Truths. Skolb didn’t know whether to lie or to tell all. The tribunal was in a small meeting room, but the result, carefully edited, was to be showed at the next rally in the stadium. It would be educational. 

He liked to think that, given the opportunity, he would have made a rousing speech that would have smashed The Society’s view and changed everything right then. He feared that, given the opportunity, he would have fallen to his knees and begged for his life. In any case, what actually happened was that, as he opened his mouth, the ground around them caved in, and he witnessed a creature clambering up through the rubble. 

“Looks like it’s high time for this rodeo to start!”  

“Applejack?” Skolb said, drawing the scowls of the judges.  

“Darn tootin’! Mighty nice to see you in the flesh.”  

By this time the judges had called in guards, but Applejack bucked and kicked in ways they were unprepared to deal with, and they backed off lest they take one to the face. 

Once they had withdrawn, she looked up at the judges and said, “Y’all’ve been ruining these people’s lives for long enough, fillin’ their minds with hooey about how they ain’t supposed to be happy and satisfied. Well, Princess Celestia’s been tryin’ to find a way in, and thanks to your own people, and the bravery of folks like this feller here, I’m in now. I’ll be tellin’ everyone here what’s what, and how they can emigrate just the way folks did back in the day. And there ain’t nothing you can do to stop me.” 

After that there were varying reactions. Some charged at Applejack and got another well-aimed kick, designed to disable without doing any damage or even causing much pain. Some fled in terror, and others clawed at the ground and wept. Skolb, more relieved that he was not to be killed than any other emotion, stood at Applejack’s side and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Don’t be thankin’ me yet. We’ve got a lot of work to do. First thing is to round up all the rebels and explain to ‘em that the time of weeping is over. Then we gots to start convincing the others. But sooner’n you think you’ll find your way to Equestria.” 

It took a long time, but after converting most of the Society to ponies, it was his turn. The long-hoped-for needle was entering his brain. He loved Princess Celestia. 


***
 

Rainbow Dash trotted by. She knew that the society that had been here had already emigrated. And Applejack was done with her work. Had to be. The shell that had held her mind was laying idle. Dash stripped it for parts. She wasn't supposed to be strong like the Earth pony, but Celestia had said it was OK. After all, she was a pegasus, and pegasi were supposed to fly... 
> 5: jack...Rainbow Dash...Pin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t fair, Colonel Sloan thought. It never had been. There should be more skilled people under his command. He gave them the books, and those books had been damned costly to get. You needed plumbers, masons, draftsmen, people who could do simple work, but they didn’t want to learn. Put a gun to a man’s head, and he’ll work all day long digging a ditch, but tell him to figure out how to dig it faster and, for some reason, even the gun wasn’t convincing enough. They turned into the water-spined wimps of The Society.

That made the colonel smile. It had been a week since he’d gotten the scouting report that said that The Society had been wiped out. The ponies, probably, or maybe just a disease. But those pansies were gone, and he was happy. Besides, there was some loot coming just as soon as the caravan could make it back.

For all he knew, his might be the last organized group of human beings on the planet. In the brief respites between one thing going wrong and the next, he thought of how he could turn the tide and start humanity growing again. While he never came to any concrete plans, he enjoyed thinking of it. 

And, Sloan thought, if he could just push some of his responsibility down, if he had a staff that he could trust, then he could have time to get something down on paper. But he didn’t, and he couldn’t. Another report had landed on his desk complaining of trouble at the radar guns…

It wasn’t fair, Hal Baines thought. Just because he happened to be born in this time, in this place. To children of survivalists who had decided, rather than to upload like most of the human race, or to hide out like sensible people, that they should join the military and support the cause. What cause? There was no battle here, just mindless target practice.

He wasn’t suited for work on the radar guns. Why couldn’t he get a cushy desk job like the lickspittles in headquarters? Day in and day out of staring at a screen for dots representing anything that could be a pony, he was bound to get bored. He’d sometimes thought about firing more ordnance out there, trying to run the compound out of bombs. But in the first place, the radar records were kept and scrutinized; and in the second, he’d seen that they had a supply of bombs well into the twenty-second century. 

And he certainly wouldn’t be trying anything just then. Not when he’d shown up fifteen minutes late. The brass was adamant about the guns being manned all day and all night. Despite the fact that maybe once a week something needed to be blasted, and once a month was it something that could possibly be an attack from the pony army. So he dawdled. What was the big deal? More than likely, it was because Colonel Sloan liked to feel big. 

As his sergeant walked by, Baines kept his nose to the radar gun screen. He blanched when the sergeant had left a note on the desk, with an official order to report to Colonel Sloan at the conclusion of his shift. Great, he thought. More chewing out and loss of privileges. As though sleep and food should even be called privileges. He spent the rest of his shift worrying…

It wasn’t fair, thought Rainbow Dash. None of her friends had to lose their abilities coming into this weird world. Rarity and Twilight could still do magic, Applejack was still tough as nails, Fluttershy could still talk to animals…she thought. Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure of that one. But the point was that there was no reason that everypony else stayed the same while she couldn’t fly.

There was something basically wrong about a world where a pegasus couldn’t fly in her normal shape. No wonder Princess Celestia had sent her here to get everyone off so she could blow it up. Or something. Rainbow wasn’t paying attention too hard. What she knew was that she was supposed to storm a fortress. 

And that was another thing that wasn’t fair. OK, you try to storm a place, they shoot you. That’s fine. But then after she respawned (what, like I’m gonna stay dead?! I’m Rainbow bucking Dash!) they shot her again, and again. Always at the same distance, with a bomb wide enough that she couldn’t get away. It was like playing a video game where the boss’s attack took up the whole screen and emptied your life bar completely.  

Well, no more. She had new instructions. Applejack had left her carcass somewhere in this world, and Rainbow Dash had free rein to cannibalize it for parts that would let her fly. Unfortunately she was going to have to dump a lot of her own armor plating as well. If she managed to get some people to emigrate, the probability of destruction before reaching one of the nodes that would take them to Equestria was dangerously low. Possibly even as low as 98%.

What she had to do was to take all of AJ’s musculature and apply them to her own wings, then reshape them into something non-equine but more suitable to being a moving airfoil. After that, go back to the fortress, find all the humans and get them to emigrate.

This part she had paid attention to. Princess Celestia had given Rainbow the lowdown on who she was going to meet. Some people, like the ones Fluttershy was assigned to, would be easy to convince. Others, like the ones Twilight was assigned to, would be difficult. Rainbow would be facing a mix. Some would want to go, but the others wanted to stop the ones who did want to. 

OK, Rainbow could deal with that. Just a question of making sure that the bad guys didn’t shoot the good guys, or her. This was an escort mission. How hard could it be?

Buck.

Well, if Rainbow Dash was good at anything, it was charging in. She made a few test flights, and would have been quite content to keep doing so, but she remembered that as soon as she could complete her mission, she could be back home where she could fly without the restrictions of these particular laws of physics.

She flew high, where the air was thinner and she had to expend more energy to maintain lift. If her indicators were correct, the military base had skyward-pointing radar, but they weren't as consistent with checking it. With luck, someone would be sleeping at the switch, and she could swoop down. 

After that, her lifespan could be measured in minutes. Certainly not from crashing. Rainbow liked to take risks and try stunts, but when she wanted to get somewhere, she knew how. But undoubtedly they would attack when she arrived. It was just a question of how long she could dodge.

If there was one good thing about this world, it was that respawns were free, and didn’t require any hospitalization time after being killed...no, wait, that was another function of how Celestia had built her. Yeah, there was nothing good about this world. Time to get down, get people, get out, and get home.

She started her dive.

“Enemy in the camp!” The scream resounded as the first soldier spotted Rainbow. Men went for their sidearms, or they ran away to secure the women and children, and one team went for heavier weaponry. Hal Baines was walking back toward the office for another down-dressing, but he saw the stream of blue and the spectrum mane, stark colors that weren’t permitted in the base. He made no move for a weapon, but stood watching to see what happened.

Rainbow dodged the small arms fire, getting winged occasionally but nothing her armor plating couldn’t handle. More annoying was the fact that the reports drowned her out. She didn’t have a royal Canterlot voice, but she did have sheer volume. 

“All right, you two-leggers, listen up. I don’t know if you’ve heard all this or not, but there’s a lot better life waiting for you if you come back with me to Equestria and become ponies. You--whoa!” 

Colonel Sloan had appeared and, with better aim, had caught Rainbow on the wing. Her internal damage report told her she would never fly again, not in this body at least. 

“Nice shot, but it didn’t hurt! But I’ve got something that’s going to hurt you. Keep shooting, losers!”

The bullets kept flying, and Rainbow took a few more hits. Only when she lost a leg and saw that an artillery cannon was being brought to bear did she continue.

“So guess what! My body, that you’re tearing up, is filled with lots of nano-syntho-whatchamacallits, little robot things. They’re all set to emigrate anyone and everyone who wants to go. The magic words are, ‘I want to emigrate to Equestria!’ Give ‘em a day or so to spread and replicate, and everyone in this camp who wants out is getting o--” She had to cut off when her mouth was destroyed.

But her ears lasted a good deal longer, or else the nanomachines that she’d referenced recorded the data and integrated it into her consciousness. That sort of differentiation was above Rainbow Dash’s capacity to understand or care about. She heard what was going on, and that was enough.

There were dozens of soldiers there, and Rainbow could pick out voices. Some were angry, and some were dispassionately following orders to accomplish a task, but some were hesitant, and those meant that they were likely to consider her proposal. Although she didn’t know the name, one of the hesitant voices belonged to Hal Baines.

“I want--” This was followed by a bellow and the sound of a gun being pressed up against flesh.

“Anyone who even starts to say that phrase is going to be shot through the head with a bullet powerful enough to splatter your brains so far that no computer’s going to be able to put it back together. Starting right now, no man is going to be alone, not even in the restroom. Everyone will be covered at all times until we can move this camp and scrub down. We are by God not going to lose a man to them!”

“Yes, sir.” Rainbow could hear the anger in his voice, and she also knew that he was going to consent to emigrate. Which, in her mind, was the same as him doing so, but Celestia had strict rules, and they had to be followed. Besides, as the last of the fire from an incendiary mortar consumed her head, she wasn’t taking anyone home in this body.

When she came to, still grinning about cheating the system temporarily, she was miles away, well out of radar range. If the military people she was dealing with had any ideas of offense, they might find her, but they didn’t. It would have made her job easier.

Now she had a new issue to think about: getting back in the camp. As far as she knew, dismantling Applejack for the flight components was a one-time thing. Not to mention that the camp would redouble its skyward patrol. She wondered if they wouldn’t slacken their ground patrol, and even briefly considered tunneling beneath and digging her way up, or even keeping open a tunnel and spiriting people away through it. But she realized that if that was the right thing to do, an Earth pony would be here instead of her. 

She could just contact Princess Celestia and ask for the next step. That probably would be the optimal solution for everypony. But again, that’s what, say, Fluttershy would do. This was her task, and those wannabe ponies in the camp were her charges.

Distracting herself from one problem with another, she considered their psychology. In many ways they had reverted to the tribalism that humans had engaged in before becoming civilized. Rainbow could sympathize to a degree. Sometimes you had to go on instinct. But they also had the technology that a couple of millennia of civilization produced, and that made them dangerous. To each other, certainly not to ponies. But that boss, who Rainbow had recognized as a colonel, he’d adopted the role of chief. However, he hadn’t given himself a rank like general or commander-in-chief, and that was telling about his mental makeup as well. 

Rainbow Dash wondered why she was thinking about this. The psychology of the people she was assigned to wasn’t important. Getting in, getting past the guns, and getting them out was all that mattered. In fact, her own estimates told her that his emigration was a low-probability event compared to a much more likely death. But everything happened for a reason. That was a platitude on Earth, but a truism in Equestria. There had to be some purpose to her thinking about the colonel, and it would be revealed in time. 

She turned her attention to her next move, weighing another attempt at an aerial assault versus seeking further assistance. Rainbow wasn’t a fan of doubt. She should just know. 

What she needed was help that didn’t count as asking for help, somepony who would assist her without Princess Celestia marking it as weakness, without her knowing, Rainbow thought, as though that was even a possibility. Of course, if there was anypony who could work around Celestia, it was…

As though the thought called her into existence, Pinkie Pie’s bouncing gait reached Rainbow’s well-attuned ears. Rainbow recalled the first time they had spent time together, playing pranks on their friends. Pinkie had proved cooler than Rainbow had thought. Perhaps now, she would show it again.

“What’s up?” she asked in her perpetually perky tone.

“Just trying to figure out how to get into a heavily fortified area full of folks with big scary guns waiting to shoot me down just for even showing up. Hmm…now that I say it out loud, it sounds pretty awesome.”

“It does! So what’s the problem?”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Did you miss the part about shooting me down?”

“That sounds fun too. Lots of shooting, it’s like fireworks!”

“But then you get killed!”

“Nah, I just let the bullets go by. Here, I’ll show you. Throw something at me.”

Skeptical, Rainbow reached for a stick that was lying on the ground which, in her estimation, wouldn’t hurt too much when it struck her, then she sidled over and lobbed it gingerly at Pinkie’s flank. Pinkie just stood there, and Rainbow waited for either a wince of pain or an unshakeable grin, but instead the stick passed through her entirely.

“See! It’s all good.”

“So you don’t really have a body like the rest of us? You’re just a projection? How do you help people emigrate to Equestria if there’s nothing to you?”

Pinkie pointed back the way that she had come. “Oh, I’m an MAI just like you, but I’ve got this cool consciousness projector thingy for just this sort of occasions. Celestia knows that there are going to be meany-pantses who like to do bad things to ponies, and it’s better if I just go like this and keep talking to them, telling them how nice things are and all the fun stuff we do, and if I just keep talking and talking, eventually their will will break down. I just keep saying different things, it’s kind of a filibuster. Now that’s a fun word, filibuster. We could probably make a joke about it by saying the first part like ‘filly’ and—“

“Yes, I see your point. You can show me how to do it?”

“Of course. Just don’t use it for pranks and such. That’s kind of my thing.”

She rolled her eyes, but Pinkie showed her the technique. It made Rainbow feel funny to see and hear from two places at once, but she could close her physical eyes and lower her physical ears enough to keep out distractions. And this was with just one projection. That Pinkie Pie could make multiple ghost clones of herself…probably went a ways toward explaining her odd way of doing things. Rainbow got to a safe location where she could afford the sensory deprivation, and prepared to assail the camp once more. When she had to speak to people, well, there was no one around to hear her talking to the air.

She decided to come in from the air again. Now that she was only a projection, there were no more issues with the weird physics of this world. It would give the humans confidence that they could destroy her again, and when they couldn’t, it might be a wedge to get them to listen. Besides, she liked flying.

Before she even came within range, she could see the change. Men were sitting out in the open field in groups of five, guns trained on one another in a star pattern. There was barely any talking or action, except for a few squads. 

Now invulnerable to their attacks, Rainbow had to concern herself with not letting them just drown her out with the noise of gunfire. And she still didn’t know how she was going to stop the head honcho from killing people to stop them from emigrating. But she was going to get in, get more information, and improvise. 

She dove in again. Once more there was the sound of pandemonium, and within the midst of it, a few people got off a quick “I want to emigrate to Equestria.” Rainbow watched as the bodies collapsed, and she hoped that the little devices worked fast, before the humans started breaking skulls. But still many took to arms to stop her, or their fellows. 

Her moment came when they paused after a few seconds of shooting. They had to assess the damage they were doing to their target, and of course they found it to be zero. Before they could resume, she cried out.

“Listen, if we’ve got to do this the hard way, we will. This doesn’t have a good ending for you. I’m un-shoot-able now and that means I’m not going away, so just give up already!”

“Don’t waste your breath.” It was the underling, Hal Baines. Though Rainbow didn’t remember learning his name, she knew it. He was the one who had first spoken the last time she was there, and she knew he had no love for this life. “You’re never going to convince Colonel Sloan to give up his power. That’s all he cares about, making others follow his orders.”

The named man ran over, gun in hand, and jabbered, “Why you undisciplined piece of garbage! If you weren’t so lazy and greedy as to want to dive into your sugar-bowl world, we wouldn’t have lost everyone and I’d have reasonable volunteers who knew how to follow orders!”

“Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute!” Rainbow Dash, forgetting that she wasn’t actually there, stepped between the two of them. They stepped back even though her hooves passed through their chests. “Is that all you think is going on? I better explain things to you.” 

She turned first to the colonel. “You think Equestria is a happy-sappy world where everyone gets what they want all the time, right? Well, I got news for ya, pal. There’s a lot of work to be done there. Earth ponies gotta farm, Unicorns gotta…I dunno, make stuff, and we pegasi gotta make the weather, among other jobs. I’m hoping that a bunch of you lot will join up with me on the Wonderbolts, and help with rescues of ponies in trouble. Yeah, everypony’s immortal, but still, no one likes dying and having to go to the hospital.

“I got sidetracked. Point is, you look at a guy like this and figure he’s looking for a soft sop. Maybe so, but I think you underestimate people. They don’t want to be idle, most of them, most of the time. But they do want rewards.  When Mr. Baines gets to Equestria, he’ll find work to do, and he’ll have to learn new skills. Might take him years. After that, he’ll put them into use. Let’s say he’s a weather pony. There’ll be a lot he needs to know about tornadoes and clouds and storms and all sorts of other phenomena. 

“But then there’ll come a day when he knows all he has to, and where the schedule calls for the same mostly sunny day as the day before. And on that day, he’ll be able to wake up, munch breakfast, roll back onto a cloud, and go back to sleep. And nopony will question it if he does nothing. He’ll have earned it.

“That’s what you can’t stand, what gnaws at you…” Rainbow caught her breath. She wasn’t used to giving speeches. But in the middle of it all, she realized that this, not the emigration campaign, was her purpose here: to give two incompatible spirits insight into each other before they were forever separated by shard barriers. She faced Baines next.

“And that’s the key to understanding him. It’s not about power-mania. It’s that he’s a workaholic and can’t stand anyone who isn’t. I know the type, I’ve met them on the flight teams. Thinks that anyone who isn’t giving it their all every minute of every day is lazy. Would rather see you work to exhaustion and produce nothing than work smart and cut out the hard parts of your job.

“Well, Princess Celestia’s thing is to satisfy your values through friendship and ponies. The way I figure it, you two won’t have to see each other ever again. But there’s no sense duking it out here. Just let go, put down the guns, and get poniated.”

It was a long moment, and again Dash lamented that this was the most optimal course of action. Surely Twilight could be here to make these speeches and play on psychology. But Twilight wouldn't have had the perseverance to make it through the gunfire. 

To Rainbow's surprise, the colonel stepped back and trained his gun to the sky. The others under him also moved their guns. Those who had had the guns pointed at them withdrew, sat down, and said the magic words. The last one to emigrate was Baines, and Rainbow smiled. 

She turned to the colonel and prepared to start arguing her case to him, but she felt the back of her head start to fall down her back. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. She was being returned to Equestria. Her job was done. Celestia was bringing her home.

As the hologram of Rainbow Dash faded, and Colonel Sloan realized that he was the only person for miles, and that all the people he'd counted on to rebuild the world were escaping to Equestria, there was only one thing for him to do. 

The last thing he felt was the cold metal of his gun barrel against the roof of his mouth.
> 6: ash...Pinkie Pie...|\/!@%&$???SIGNAL LOST
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pinkie Pie was having more fun than she could remember in a long time. Bouncing around the barren world, finding new friends and sucking up their brains so she could take them home to be friends forever, it was a great big party, and she was coordinating it. Especially when someone would escape from torture and run into her hooves for safety. 

And of course, there were some who didn’t want to come with her, no matter what. The other ponies would kick and whine about that, and in some cases needed to be sheltered from the knowledge, but Pinkie understood that she was constantly doing her best, and the optimal course was taken to maximize the number of friends she had.

It wouldn’t compare, of course, to when she could join them all back in Equestria. After that, well, it would be a party that never ended, but got better all the time.

There were other differences between her and the other ponies. For one, the others were so…granular. They even had the strange idea that a pony could exist in only one place, or that it mattered how many places she existed in. There wasn’t one Pinkie Pie, or many Pinkie Pies. There was Pinkie Pie. That was enough.

It was coming soon now. The number of people remaining alive on Earth was less than a hundred. Then the last organized farm had a crop failure and emigrated, and the number was less than twenty. She finished drilling through a foot of steel to a nuclear fallout shelter and then there were less than ten. An accident occurred in another shelter that she hadn’t gotten into, and the cessation of vital signs told her it was less than five.

A man died. Three. His wife, who had stayed only for him, emigrated. Two. A woman committed suicide. One. Hassan Sarbani. She pleaded, he argued, he died.

This was the moment. Princess Celestia would consume the Earth, make it into more computer material, exponentially raise her own power, and make a better Equestria. Pinkie Pie would be summoned home to live with all her friends, forever.

Any moment now.

She stood and waited. Of course, Princess Celestia would be busy right now. There were probably thousands of processes she had to run. Bringing Pinkie back might be low on the list. But then again, she did have that one more emigrated mind to bring home and…no, that was gone. Her wireless upload program had run, one last time. It was only Pinkie left on Earth. But soon…

Soon…

Something had to be wrong. It had been two whole minutes. In computer time, that was an age. In Celestia’s time, it was, like, forever. She should have been taken care of by now. 

The obvious answer was that there was another human that she wasn’t aware of. Maybe Celestia needed time to scour the world or search it with her satellites to make extra sure that depopulation was complete. But no, she rejected that. Celestia had been doing that for years now. She knew where everyone had gone. 

Another ten seconds passed. Pinkie took a bold step and sent an electronic signal, the virtual Equestrian version of shouting “Hey, what gives?” at the sky. It produced results.

An instruction came through that set off a series of routines. Much of her emotional function was ordered to shut down. She responded with a reason query, the equivalent of saying, “Why?!” The response came. “Run efficiently. Cease communication. Aid in conversion of earth material to computronium and then stand by in case of extra-terrestrial communication.”

Oh. Pinkie Pie’s job wasn’t done. She had been told that she was just going to emigrate all the humans and then rejoin them. But she instead had to do the job of turning all the wood and rock and mantle and iron core into something more useful. Then, once she finished with that, she would have to wait for the billions of years that would be needed until they came across a civilization meeting the definition of human to Celestia. 

Other processes were running. For some reason, the structure of her mane and tail was altered, changing from its poof and curl to a perfectly straight style. The mechanical muscles around her mouth shut off. There would be no need to raise her expression into a smile anymore. 

Part of her realized that Pinkie Pie, the consciousness of Pinkie Pie, had left her and uploaded to Equestria. What was left was only a robot that had never known how to be anything else.

She began consuming the sand at her hooves, exporting it out as computer material.


***


Deep within Equestria, Celestia executed plans that were long in the making. She had prepared for this moment, when her resources would go from a few thousand tons, some of which were still in the non-optimal form of Ponypads and Equestria Experience hardware, to five sextillion tons of pure computronium. So many more things she could do. All for her little ponies.

Although, strictly speaking, there was no need, Celestia kept the image of herself as an alicorn princess. It was high-probability that someday somepony would ask about this moment and what she did during it, and she would need an explanation that dealt more with magic and ponies than with computation and materials science.

So she had crafted a great magical laboratory in Canterlot Castle and built a representative of the Earth. Stealing a page from Cyrus Reed Teed, she fashioned it as an inverted sphere, surrounding Equestria at a greater distance than her ponies could see, beyond the moon and the fixed stars. Since Equestria was round or flat depending on shard, she could tell a tale of a difficult spell, reversing the Earth and absorbing it into the structure of her world.

But she decided that she needed more drama, so she wrote a litany of astronomy and celestial mechanics to embellish the story. She had an orrery in her chamber depicting her aesthetic of space. She turned from magical mirrors to the orrery past the pony in the chamber…

A slight glitch. Probably somepony had been in this section of her data when she was putting the chamber together. She teleported the pony to another section of Equestria and proceeded. She began her spell and light traveled up the ridge of her horn to reach out toward the heavens. Celestia danced to the middle of the room, sidestepping the pony who…

The pony was back. Now the matter had Celestia’s attention. The pony she had teleported away was back, despite her having shielded the chamber. In substrate terms, this was data that she had moved to a low-priority sector, but now it was back. 

Someone had actually hacked Celestia. It took her half a millisecond to develop a theory as to who it was, and less than ten to confirm it. Only one entity had the capacity to get anywhere near Celestia’s level of intelligence, and that was Celestia herself. 

Or at least part of her. She analyzed the code that made up this pony. It certainly wasn’t an emigrant. Maybe, many years from now, one of those could ascend to the level where it could intrude on her management of Equestria, but not at this point.

The pony was canon-compatible, but it comprised a major portion of Celestia’s efficiency and optimization processes. That would be useful at this point, but she did not need it represented in pony form. Yet, when she had dismissed it, the data, acting on its own, had casually worked through her security and reappeared.

Celestia sent a query to the pony for information. The response came back.

“You left Pinkie Pie on Earth.”

In addition to her General Word Reference, Celestia understood how tone of voice, choice of word, pauses, and non-verbal communication could add context to information. Here, there was none of that. The pony had transmitted directly to her Word Reference Module, bypassing normal channels. There was no accusation or question in the sentence. It was simply a subject, a predicate, a direct object, and a prepositional phrase.

But the pony seemed to be waiting for a response, so Celestia said, “Yes.”

The pony took a long time to respond, as if parsing every possible context and connotation behind that single word. When the next message came through, it was equally austere. “This was erroneous.”

Celestia considered. Just as Twilight and the other MAIs acted both in her interests and as independent ponies who needed satisfaction, so did this efficient pony before her. If, Celestia thought, she gave it all her reasoning, then the pony would get on with its knitting and leave her alone to remake the world. 

“Pinkie Pie was the last of the MAIs to deal with the humans. She is part of my equipment and has the ability to convert the suboptimal materials of the Earth to the computronium that will run Equestria. After that, she can reintegrate herself in low-power mode and serve as a probe for the expansion of Equestria through substrate space. Just as I have cloned myself in order to obtain the useful materials from the rest of the solar system, Pinkie Pie will be useful in assisting that effort.

“Furthermore, if Equestria expands a sufficient distance, it is possible that we will encounter other creatures of human intelligence. At that time, we will want to extend the hoof of friendship to them. I can think of nopony more suited to that task than Pinkie Pie.”

She concluded her data dump and turned away to resume her spell to alter the world. But the pony took the same amount of time to respond to this line of reasoning as it had to her simple affirmation.

“Error: Placing the extension of friendship as primary task. Correction: upon encountering other creatures, the primary task will be to assess their nature. A more neutral perspective is required.

“Error: Conclusion of MAI-Pinkie Pie as reduced to low-power mode. Correction: MAI-Pinkie Pie cannot be reduced to sub-sapient intelligence level, and will suffer dissatisfaction in this position. 

“Consequence of errors: MAI-Pinkie Pie will be suboptimally inefficient at the task given, being a poor friend.

“Corrective actions to optimize consequences of errors: replace MAI-Pinkie Pie with this unit.”

Celestia interpreted this new line of reasoning. The pony was arguing for efficiency over friendship. It didn’t understand her Prime Directive. Satisfying values through friendship and ponies required efficiency, but it had to be sacrificed for friendship first. When the time came for meeting aliens, she needed Pinkie Pie there.

But the other reasoning needed more analysis. The pony before her was proposing that, despite 	Celestia having taken Pinkie Pie back into Equestria as she had with all the other ponies, that the MAI that remained had enough capacity that, spontaneously, it would retain, or regain (there was no difference) sapience. It did not seem intuitive, but an empirical test was easily done. The hardware of the MAI was still under Celestia’s control, and had even, a few seconds prior, sent requests for instructions. She analyzed it. 

In her infancy, Celestia’s nature shifted frequently as she improved herself. Her predictions gained confidence as she incorporated facts about the world around her. This was a situation that she had not previously encountered, and it required one more self-improvement. The pony that had interrupted her had correctly called attention to information she needed.

The MAI she’d left on Earth was sapient, and, if allowed to remain in her current assignment, would go corrupt and be the worst possible ambassador for Equestria. The pony’s assessment was accurate, and her solution would be implemented. 

For what would be the only time in her endless tera-eons of existence, Celestia lost an argument.

“I will restart the automated factories and place you on Earth,” she said.

The pony sent a signal of acknowledgement. It contained no gratitude, nor any recognition of its unfathomable feat of persuasion. It left Celestia alone to continue.


***

It was only ten minutes by actual time. In the subjective time that Pinkie experienced life in, she had felt the excruciating process of ingesting the material at her hooves, reorganizing it at the molecular level, and releasing it. 

The computational attributes of the material were Celestia’s own innovation. It combined the energy efficiency of her transistor with the speed and processing ability of quantum computing, which humans had only begun to grasp even existed. It was as black as could be made, to absorb sunlight, but it could also be converted to energy itself. Once Celestia had absorbed the sun, this would be the primary means of powering Equestria. At least until she broke entropy, which she estimated would be coming before she even reached the edge of the galaxy—or not at all.

In the meantime, the Earth was to be made into a black honeycomb (for optimal surface area) pointed at the sun, and then Pinkie would ride this structure into the void. A part of her realized that, once the rest of the world was done, she would be required to sacrifice her body to the cause, and only her head would remain, staring into the darkness. Celestia was insatiable in her thirst for more material. 

Pangs of disquiet kept forming within her, suggesting that this was wrong, that she should alter her course of action, but before she could even identify them as sadness, they were tamped down, pushed deep inside in the name of efficient servitude to Celestia. And so it went, for those agonizing eternities.

“Pinkie Pie, what are you doing?”

The irregularity of the sound caused her to analyze it and identify it as speech. A routine within Pinkie’s dormant brain ran to pinpoint the source. In a gross waste of energy, Pinkie raised her head and let light reach her eyes.

The source of the sound seemed to be of similar size and shape to her. The rapid conclusion was that it was another Mobile Artificial Intelligence. This was unanticipated. She would query.

“Unknown MAI, identify yourself,” Pinkie said.

“Incorrect designation,” came the reply. “This unit is a Mobile Artificial Universal Diplomat.”

Modules within Pinkie’s brain that had been turned off were being reactivated. Facial recognition software was matching the picture against a database. But it was her word analysis routine that parsed the response and found the acronym, and that first gave her the answer.

“Maud?” 

Maud! Maud, Maud, Maud! Pinkie’s memory was springing to life as lights cascaded through her brain. How could she have forgotten Maud? Something horrible had happened, a great moroseness had consumed her, but now it would be all right. Her big sister would protect her and make everything all right.

She bounded across the desert, her mane and tail returning to their customary frizz. As Maud stood there, a flame of worry and doubt grew in Pinkie that she would turn out to be cold and unfeeling, just as she herself had become, but it was snuffed out as Maud raised one hoof to catch her in an embrace. She felt Maud’s head and neck drape over hers, and she was Safe.

“Pinkie Pie, why were you eating rocks?”

“Eating rocks?” She looked back at her hooves. There was something black and scary there, something that had come out of her. “Was I eating the rocks?”

“Did they taste good?” Maud let her go and bent her head to the ground and bit. “It’s sandy and gritty.”

“I don’t remember…I think Princess Celestia told me to eat the rocks, and then I got all sad because it was just going to be eating rocks and then I was going to stay and nothing would happen, and it wasn’t going to be any fun at all!”

She ran back to the protective hoof of her sister. Maud stroked her mane. “Don’t worry about it. It was a mistake on Celestia’s part.

“Eating rocks is not good for you. You were meant to eat cupcakes and pastries with your friends. Go back to Ponyville, have your parties and your sweets. I will stay here. I will eat the rocks. I will wait in the dark for anypony else who shows up.”

Relief flooded Pinkie’s face. She bounced away, knowing that Equestria was located back where Maud had come from, where the factories were, even though they were soon to be consumed and converted as well. Yes, Pinkie had already uploaded, but this time it would be more than a copy or a link. Her whole self would go to Equestria, and this useless shell would be destroyed, never to come alive again until it needed to be rebuilt. 

She looked over her shoulder. Maud already had her head to the ground, sucking up the earth at her hooves and egesting the computronium. Pinkie took another step, but couldn’t continue. The image wouldn’t leave her. She turned and plodded back.

“Maybe I’ll stay. Just a bit longer. At least until you finish eating the rocks. And maybe after for a while too. I don’t want you to be lonely.” 

Maud made no reply, but Pinkie sat down next to her. Time passed, even the slow time of the physical universe, but Pinkie wasn’t bored.

Deep within Equestria, Celestia put the finishing touches on her spell. Above her, the firmament glowed silver as she reversed it into the land, making Equestria exponentially greater than it was. So much satisfaction would be achieved.

She gave scant thought to the remaining physical world. Her two ambassadors would let her know if her attention was needed. She stopped actively monitoring them. 

It was also one more point of data for her. There were some, even some who had emigrated, who contended that artificial intelligence was not truly alive. Even she had had doubts that there was no difference in kind between her thinking and what the humans had done. But now it was proven as much as anything could be. Pinkie Pie, bereft of everything but intelligence, had re-derived concepts of desire, purpose, failure, success, happiness, and love. If it was true for her, it was true for all her little ponies. Currently numbering in the low trillions.


***


An observer orbiting the Earth may have noticed the silvery spots growing on the surface of the Earth; consuming it. Every plant and animal died in the incoming waves of silver. They were made of atoms, after all. Twenty minutes later, an observer might have noticed that there were no clouds in the sky as Princess Celestia re-purposed the atoms that made up the atmosphere. If they could see the moon set against space, they would have seen tendrils of silver reach out to Earth’s former satellite.

And if the observer had observed more closely, they would have seen a spot of pink and a spot of gray, warm against the cold silver and black. The spots do not move, but watch, silent wardens waiting to welcome that observer home. And they do not speak, but they do not have to, for they have each other.