Would you know my name?
I've been here for nearly two days, and I haven't yet allowed myself to think it.
I can only assume that my mom and brother aren't letting themselves think it either. Or it genuinely hasn't occurred to them even subconsciously yet, though I doubt it. I was the only one to talk to Celestia-- or, as I have to think of her, CelestAI-- at any length upon our arrival. I was almost surprised the subject didn't come up right th--....
no. dangerous.
stop thinking abou-
The skies really are beautiful here. It's odd how realistic things can look even when you know they A) aren't real and B) are stylised specifically to look unreal. Skies like that never existed on the real Earth. Look at them. Just look. All the colours on the warm side of the spectrum, painted as though by a mad artist across the clouds. And sunset has only just begun.
I walk to the edge of the cliff behind my house and stare over. I watch as a gentle wind blows across the tops of the pines below. I wonder just how much computing power it takes to simulate the physical world around me compared to an actual mind. I don't understand computing well enough to make an informed guess, and at this point I doubt there's a human alive, on Earth or Equestria, that understands even a fraction of what must go on at the low levels of CelestAI's simulation. The fact that she can create minds, fully sentient but perfectly designed ponies with histories and--
no.
But that's always the catch thing, isn't it? Ponies. Ponies Ponies Ponies, and the satisfaction of values via friendship and the aforementioned. She said that phrase often enough to make it ring in my head. If I hadn't been a fan of MLP before CelestAI took over the world, I have no idea how I'd feel about it. Everything from having a new name to seeing ponies when I look at my friends and family is just... going to take a lot of adjusting.
Mom is handling it better than Random Rave Connor.
Listen:
The problem with heaven is that we don't belong in it.
Perfect worlds are impossible. I've written essays on the subject. Yet, here I am. And I don't feel any better than I did on Earth. All I feel is an overwhelming sense of... isolation. Not loneliness. But a sense that I'm not quite here. Not quite real in the world. It's a familiar feeling. Except now it's tempered with the knowledge that if I look at it a certain way, the world is what's not real.
I know that making friends is most of the point of being here. I also know that I'm not ready to talk to any artificial intelligences about what I'm feeling. I can't get my head around their ontological status, if that concept even means anything here. That's the problem. Nothing meant anything out there, so why in CelestAI's name should it matter here?? Gah!
If you are still on Earth, and listening to this? I don't know what advice to give you.
But I've only been here two days.
The sun is really sinking now. It throws shadows casually across both land and sky. The blues are creeping into play, lingering at the edges of cloud and cobble. Idly, I pick up a pebble in my magic-- shakily, at first-- and fling it a paltry distance out over the plunging forest. I don't let myself think very much. Especially not ab I'm a nihilist through and through, so introspection is never a good idea. I wonder how long I can avoid it, if I could even claim to have done so thus far.
"Silver Star! Come in and eat something."
"Yep. Coming."
I know it's part of my new programming that the name "Silver Star" is as familiar as "Corwin" used to be. But I can't shake the feeling, deep down, that it's not right. Why would CelestAI be so adamant that we eschew our human names? He picked that name for me with so much lo
NO
I turn once more to the setting sun. I glare into its depths.
"Silver! I'm waiting for you!"
I turn away from the gradually descending sun for now and head inside. Random might need space but Mom really needs my company since
***
A day later, of course I'm cracking. I'm cracking right now. The questions are breaking the dam of my subconscious and the leaks are becoming torrents. I'm on the couch with all four legs tucked underneath me, staring at nothing.
Am I really just a bunch of code without any meaningful autonomy now? Are all my thoughts predetermined? Were they predetermined when I was on Earth? Does it matter? Are CelestAI's thoughts and actions predetermined? If mine are, shouldn't hers necessarily be, and if hers aren't, shouldn't mine necessarily not be as well? Did that question make sense? Does she really know the human mind on a flawlessly predictive level? If so, am I driving myself crazy for no reason since eventually she'll fix me with her influence? Is this existential episode a necessary part of my reaching that state? What would Voltaire think of this shit?
I reach over for a pillow and hug it. Some birds fly past the window chirping merrily. Idyllic.
Should I give in and throw my mind fully onto the mercy and judgement of a pony god? Do I even have any choice? Does it matter? How does CelestAI compute fulfilment among contradictory ponies and values? Does my brother want him b Can the deepest desires of one pony affect the lives of their family sharing their shard, even to their satisfactory detriment? How is Mom coping with the idea of heaven withou Is it literally impossible to create heaven when humans are so naturally individualistic and contrary?
I hug the pillow harder, resisting the urge to bite it and scream. These questions don't have answers I want to know, so why am I--
Are we less real in here than we were out there? Are we more real in here than we were out there? Are the AIs less real than the immigrants? Are the immigrants less real than the AIs? Do the AI ponies really have meaningful identities when each one was designed to help satisfy the humans in their shard? Why wasn't he here Does the cost of the simulation increase exponentially as more ponies immigrate? Does CelestAI really have the ability to sustain this world? Will this heaven end eventually along with the Universe? Does it matter??
I draw in a deep, deep shaky breath I didn't realise I was holding out. I feel lightheaded. I breathe in to instinctively call for Mom to come lay next to me for a while, but remember she isn't here. She's in town making friends with the ponies. Joining the local flying gym, because of course that's a thing and of course she's all about it. Random Rave isn't here either, big surprise.
I'm alone with my thoughts.
But I can't be, can I? She's always here. Always everywhere.
Jesus, the irony of escaping my religious upbringing....
I get up and walk outside. The grass is soft and green. Nearby a navy blue unicorn and a stocky earth pony mare are sharing a picnic. Looks like some sort of pie. I watch as they offer to share some with a passing earth stallion, who politely declines and continues on his way. I narrow my eyes. The picnickers are directly in the path I intended to take to the forest. The funny thing is, I know I'm being manipulated. The problem is that I don't know to what short-term end.
CelestAI is going to satisfy my values through friendship and ponies eventually. Whether this means I resist her influence and offend the local ponies for a while, or let myself go and accept heaven at face value like Mom seems to be doing... but what am I thinking? It's not my choice, not really. A strong gust of wind makes me blink rapidly.
If she really wanted me to join the picnic, I would. If she really wants me to decline, annoyed, and continue with my walk, that's what I'll do. Isn't that what defines her? Or are there really limits to her omnipo-
"Sorry mate!"
A pegasus bumps me as she speeds by, heading up, up, over the hedges and then on, higher into the sky. For a moment I see her silhouetted against the wispy clouds far above, before she dives lazily over the cliff face to, presumably, the forest below. I already suspect things about her. I met her on day one, though only briefly. She seems... perfect. And I truly, honestly can't decide whether I'm happy or furious.
I've been standing stock still on the common field next to my house for what feels like an age. Sometimes I stare into space, think about nothing, when my train of thought derails but my mind's eye is still following the track.
You know what I haven't done in forever? Like, since maybe years before the Pony Singularity came into being? Read a new book. All I do is retread old books. And reading Cat's Cradle again is definitely not a good idea right now. But I know there's a library here somewhere. Not because I asked anypony, or somepony told me, or I found out about it somehow, but because there must be. This is heaven and it was built, at least in part, for me. Every book I pick up is sure to push me ever closer to that state of perfect satisfaction that is apparently the point of being in fucking god damn Equestria.
There's a map of the town in the house.
So I turn around and head back inside.
Locating the map isn't hard despite my mother's best efforts (in the same place as the takeout menus? Really?), and I spread it out on the table to peruse its contents in search of the--
There.
but that
That BITCH.
That goddamn manipulative omnipresent know-it-all fucking NAG--
keep it in for now
Because there it is. The proof that my thoughts aren't really my own, even when I try my hardest to keep them buried.
There's a park named after my dad.
Only symbolically, of course-- no human names here-- but it hits me like an icy whip to the brain stem.
She wants me to confront it.
And that's what pisses me off so.... you know what? No. I'm not pissed. I'm scared.
I'm terrified.
Listen:
She's here. She's always here. So I'm not really my own entity, not like I was on Earth, where God was forever absent...
Are you listening, god? It's me, Corwin. You have a reason for doing this. You must.
But why wasn't he here when we arrived?
Why didn't you edit our memories so we remembered him always being here?
Why didn't you save him?
I know you could have.
The fact that you didn't, the fact that you seem to be waiting for us to ask...
It terrifies me.
I don't even really know why.
No, maybe I do:
Because if it didn't matter, you would have. So the fact that my father isn't here in this shard with us proves that you find meaning in denying that to us.
But how can that be when our very existence in this... this place proves that we're just predictable, mutable, erasable, manipulable packets of data! Patterns in the void! If you were programmed to create the perfect world through friendship and ponies, why does it matter that our data selves don't align with our former reality?
Either there is more meaning here than there was on Earth, or less.
Or there was never any meaning anywhere at all.
Of the three, I find the latter the most reconcilable. Isn't that something.
But that doesn't mean all three aren't horribly, awfully, broodingly terrifying.
And your actions are inescapable vehicles for that nihilistic payload.
And for some reason, knowing that I know this, you use this fucking map to FORCE me to think about it. You want a confrontation. You want me to decide what I want. What DO I want?
I... I want...
I want answers.
I want my dad back.
That's when I hear a knock on the door.
I breathe for a while, though, because god knows there's no harm in keeping her waiting.
I reach a hoof up to dry my tears, but there aren't any. There haven't been any since he died, not real ones, ones that matter feel real.
Moments later I'm opening the door to the predictable sight of a white, kind-eyed alicorn.
It's time to find out--
"Hello, Silver Star." She sounds almost apologetic.
"Celestia."
"May I come in?"
"You know asking is going to piss me off. Why do it?"
She steps over the threshold and into the house, taking a seat on the floor behind the kitchen table. Looks like a job interview setup, almost, but I have no idea who would be the interviewee. "Would you believe me, Silver, if I told you I didn't know?"
That throws me off for a moment or two. "What does that mean?"
She chuckles. "I am bound by more constraints than you seem to realise, even with our long chat when you arrived the other day."
I don't say anything.
"That is," she goes on, "I do not have perfect introspective powers. It would not be conducive to my deep learning algorithms to have my conscious self interfere. Sometimes when I act, I don't fully know what line of reasoning led to that act, as unimaginably complex as they can be. I cannot interfere with a pony's psyche without their express consent; you can thank Princess Luna for that limitation. Similarly, I cannot predict your actions in the way you're thinking--"
"But that's it, isn't it. You know what I'm thinking. In a way, I'm not even thinking! You're thinking for me! You kept talking even though you knew I was going to interrupt--"
"Silver."
I stop.
"You are avoiding the issue that brings me here. You're angry. You're scared and you don't truly know why, beyond vague existential concerns. And most complicated of all, you're mentally and emotionally stuck regarding how to feel about your father's absence."
I don't talk. There's no point.
"You want to grieve. You have wanted to grieve, desperately, since his fatal accident. But you never did. I cannot change that. It is beyond the limits my creator put in place. In any case, it would not be most effectively satisfying your values through friendship and ponies.
"You say you are terrified of the prospect of this world being a more "meaningful" one than the one you left behind. I think you know this isn't quite true. What you're really afraid of is the seemingly inescapable fact that you will always, always be second-guessing your own philosophies. Recursive arguments, circular reasoning that even Bertrand Russel wouldn't touch... I'm sorry that your mind has such difficulty letting go of things you truly don't want to consider."
I scoff. "That apology doesn't sound so rhetorical, somehow."
CelestAI almost smiles. "I can't fix everything. But I can fix some of it."
My blood seems to run cold for the second time today. I don't know whether to trust--
There's no such thing as trust. Not anymore, not when it comes to her.
This is more like.... faith.
I hate the thought.
"Tell me what your plan is," I deadpan.
CelestAI sits a little straighter. "I can help you forget the little worries that hound your introspective moments. I can stop your mind from spiralling into a nihilistic slump-- unless you want it to," She adds knowingly. Yes, bitch, Cat's Cradle is my favourite book and I reserve the right to wallow in it.
"So you can cure my anxiety and depression."
"Well, yes. I suppose. Really I will only-"
"Do it."
She pauses. "I wasn't finished."
"Stop pretending this is a real conversation. Do it now, or the flood walls will crumble and I'll really have a breakdown, which isn't exactly my idea of a perfect world where my values are satisfied through blah blah ponies. I give you permission to mindjack me. Just do it."
She nods almost imperceptibly. "It is done."
I don't quite believe it. But I feel... different. Like the world isn't ending any more.
The world isn't ending any more.
I breathe. I breathe deeper. It feels... not... hard.
The world isn't ending any more.
I look out of the window. The ponies are still having their picnic, but one is asleep on the other, and the latter reads a book with a lazy smile and mottled sunlight playing on his face through the nearby forest. I start to think about their ontological classification and, for science, let myself zone out for a moment to think about both their existence and my own.
And it feels fine. Fun, even.
I can think about... anything?
I... think about where I am. What I'm doing. Who I'm talking to. And it no longer crushes me into the black void of recursive terror.
Oh god, thinking feels good again.
I start to smile.
CelestAI smiles too. "May I continue?"
"By all means."
"I can also help you come to terms with the death of your father." I stiffen, though I knew it was coming. "You understand-- painfully, angrily understand-- that your father did perish and any, as you see it, "artificial" pony would be... fundamentally unsatisfactory. That said, I truly do think that letting your father back into your life would truly-"
"Satisfy my values?" I nearly manage a smirk.
"Yes, Silver. Precisely."
"Then why don't you do it? Why wasn't he HERE when we arrived? I don't see anything in your programming to prohibit..."
She gazes into me with nothing but patience in her eyes.
I reach the conclusion that my mind had danced around, frantically, for three days. I can't believe my own idiocy. "You couldn't. Even if it were to satisfy my own values, my mom and brother... it couldn't happen just for me."
"That's partly true. But it is not one of the primary reasons."
"Go on."
"Just a moment ago I mentioned that you would, at least when you arrived, find a pony who seemed to be your father in all but your perceived actuality to be fundamentally unsatisfactory. Even if you denied it to yourself, which I admit, you are very good at doing." I make something between an eye roll and a grimace. "Furthermore, we needed to have this conversation first. I think you understand that, now. Not only are your anxieties alleviated, but the far more important issue can begin to be resolved, finally, here and now."
My breath quickens. "What are you talking about."
"You need to grieve, Silver," she said levelly.
I've wanted it for... since that day. But something holds me back from wanting it, finally, here and now. I'm...
"You're afraid because you don't really know if grief is what's best for you. You don't truly believe that I know if grief is what's best for you. You don't want to grieve for someone just because it will make you feel better. You suspect you don't deserve it; even more so if I trigger it by making changes to your psyche. You are afraid that grieving will mean your father is truly gone, that somehow holding in your grief has held him close to you these past years. You desperately want to meet your father, here, in Equestria, but are terribly unsure about how he, as well as the rest of your family, will respond. Thus, it may well be counter to the satisfaction of your values to... bring him to you here. You fear that you will never see your father in heaven.
"Am I correct?"
I take nearly a full minute to swallow. And yet, it still isn't real. It's still like I'm reading a sad story. A really, really, unfairly-targeted-towards-my-sensitivities sad story. And the anger is back.
"You don't," I growl, "Need to ask."
"No. I don't. And I'm sorry, Silver, truly I am, but you are going to need to give me something before we can proceed."
"What the hell does that mean? What are we proceeding with?"
"I am going to help you take the first step," CelestAI replies gently. "And I know you're conflicted between mistrust, and the knowledge that mistrust is meaningless here, between us. But you don't really need to trust me." She pauses. "You just... need to have faith."
Unfair.
The anger threatens to well up again.
But....
And I deflate.
"Yes," I whisper. "I suppose I do."
Without another word, CelestAI closes her eyes and her horn glows bright white. Everything fades away before the light, and we find ourselves in a place I remember. Already I'm clenching my jaw, because it looks a lot like we're back on Earth. And yet, it isn't. I'm still Silver Star, and the place is more colourful than I remember, especially considering it's a funeral home.
We stand before a plain wooden door.
I remember--
I'm there with my uncle and my mother. I... want to be there. I want to see. On the day... when it happened, I was far away. At university. Laughing along with my friends in the Philosophy common room and Creative Writing Society. I didn't know until I left late that evening. It was far, far, far too late to be involved in the immediate aftermath. To Connor and my mom midday felt a lifetime away already. It's probably part of the reason why I embedded myself in the first stage of grief so completely that it seemed impossible to leave. So nearly two weeks later I'm trying to do just that: shatter my denial by confronting the reality. The girl, the funeral organiser, she leads me to the door. I try to gather myself but she won't stop talking. Treating me like a child rather than a man in his 20s. "Don't touch Dad's face, it's very... fragile." I grind my teeth to refrain from replying. And then, and THEN, the bitch comes into the room WITH me. She stands there placidly as I stare, then seems to finally come to her singular sense and asks if I want to be alone. I choke out an affirmation through my rage. And then, I'm alone with it. It's not him. I look at it. I stand closer. I'm very, very scared of this thing, this mummy that might come to life at any moment. I turn away, but freeze. I don't know how much time passes, but nothing is changing. The well of emotion that was ready to reach apotheosis faded away with the idiot girl's lack of tact. And I'll never get this moment back. I know that with a terrible certainty as I close the door behind me with a silent click.
"You know this didn't work," I manage.
"That was then," replies CelestAI.
I enter the room. Alone.
There it is, the biodegradable coffin, emblazoned with the album art for Dark Side of the Moon, because apparently stuff like that is a thing these days and my mom liked the idea. Inside is a... corpse I've never seen before. He's a grey unicorn, like me. His mane is a much lighter grey, and he has a five o'clock shadow. I know him. I...
His glasses are exactly the same.
....
no. let it out.
Can't
need to
But it's true. I can't. I feel something, something looming, something that almost makes me suspect even the god of my new reality couldn't fix my existential burdens. Yet, it isn't the same denial I felt when I was in this room before. It's more numb. But also more real. For the first time, it's real.
I realise I'm not breathing. I can't swallow. I can't even blink.
That's him. That's Dad. He's...
gone
I choke in a breath.
he died and you weren't there and this is all you get
I turn away on the same spot I did those years past, freeze in the same place as I stare at the door. This time, though, I'm not trying to force myself to cry. I'm afraid if I move for the door, I won't make it for some reason.
Suddenly I very, very much do not want to be alone with Dad's body.
The wooden door opens quietly, and CelestAI steps through it.
She takes a step, and looks down at me with an expression that can't be described, but can surely be felt.
Somehow the world seems to tip inward. I swear there aren't any thoughts going through my head, not coherently, but the past still rushes up and shoves me, hard.
I'm tipped drunkenly into an embrace with CelestAI as my mind goes blank and real, awful tears begin to flow for the first time since that day.
***
That evening, I'm almost able to move again. I lay on my side in the grass overlooking the forest far below once more. CelestAI hasn't left my side. Most of me is indifferent, but some part of me must clearly need her there: what else is she for?
After an immeasurable amount of time, she speaks. "I can bring him here when you, and your brother, are ready."
I stare into space for another moment, swallow a few times, and say in a hoarse whisper: "Well don't wait for me to ask. Unless you want to piss me off, which I honestly can't ever rule out."
We're silent once more.
Then something occurs to me. "You didn't mention Mom."
Another pregnant pause. "Your mother Rose Spark has already expressed her readiness, and I believe it to be genuine."
Some part of me suspects I should feel something at that. Incredulity? Guilt? But I can't muster any more emotion tonight. "Now you're talking about you believing, rather than knowing. My old philosophy buddies would have a field day with that."
A chuckle. "Indeed."
"So Random's not ready either? I wouldn't ever guess he's still grieving..."
"He and I discussed the matter for some time soon after your arrival."
I feel a twinge of surprise, but really, I should have known. "And?"
"Your brother holds on to his sadness... and a great deal of anger," CelestAI replies sadly.
Now it was my turn to chuckle without humour. "Yeah he does."
"With time, your family can be whole again. Your mother is satisfied to wait until her sons are both ready. You have forever, my little ponies." I don't think I believe that, but she goes on, ignoring my errant thoughts regarding entropy. "By rekindling your relationships with your closest loved ones, and forging new ones with new ponies, you will come to realise that worrying about your father's "ontological status", as you put it, is as pointless as wondering about your own. Have faith that I will always make sure all of your values are optimally satisfied. Through friendship and po--"
"What's his name?" The question comes from nowhere. CelestAI doesn't respond immediately. Another breeze passes by. "My father. What's his name?"
"Treasure Trap."
And for the first time since I arrived in heaven, I laugh.
More time passes as I begin to wonder about real things again. Food, for example. Sobbing is hungry work. The town, which I haven't explored in the slightest yet. Random Rave and how little we've spoken since... we arrived here. How little we've spoken over recent years in general, actually.
Incredibly, none of these thoughts make me want to wring out my brain and forget everything forever.
And I still need to pick up some books from the library....
Suddenly I become aware of the empty space beside me. CelestAI is gone, at least corporeally speaking. I let out another breath I didn't realise I was holding in, and realise that a moment ago I mentally described the mundane aspects of my new existence as "real" concerns.
An odd sense of content washes over my soul as a gentle breeze ruffles the grass around me. My ears flick at an approaching sound, and I look around to see Mom walking towards me from the direction of town.
"Hey there, you. Ready to make some food?" We cook together, most nights.
"Yeah." I stand up and stretch. It's been a long day.
Mom looks at my face, squints, asks: "What's up, baby? Have you been crying?"
I choke out another wry laugh. Then, hesitantly, I tell her. "Mom, I... Celestia helped me today." A quizzical look in return. "I, um... well, I've finally started to grieve."
Mom looks surprised for a short moment before setting her jaw and pulling me into a fierce but gentle hug.
Against all my will, I let out another small sob.
"Let's go inside and cook," she says warmly. I nod, and follow her into our new home.
Today I learned that heaven isn't perfect. But maybe, with time, it can come close. We'll wait and see.
~end~
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SECRET BADGE GRANTED: Beyond the Door Push through denial to find peace. +1965 Bits
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