To Love a Digital Goddessby LordBucketChapters1 - Obsession2 - Honeymoon3 - Apotheosis1 - ObsessionAuthor's Note This is an Optimalverse story. It is strongly recommended that you have read Friendship is Optimal before reading this, or at least be familiar with the premise. Otherwise, this story might be difficult to follow. 1 - Obsession "Welcome to Best Buy. May I help you find anything today?" I shake my head and keep walking. I know what I'm here for and the overhead sign depicting the Mane 6 clustered around a giant arrow makes it perfectly clear where the ponypads are. When I arrive at the floor model, an eager teenager is excitedly talking his father through the character creation process. "And then there are pegasus ponies! They have wings and can control clouds and the weather. Susie says she wants to be a pegasus pony, but the whole 'pegasister' stereotype annoys her so she's thinking of playing a unicorn instead. I'm a unicorn, of course, but I think you should be an earth pony! That way we can all...Dad? Dad, are you even listening?" "Mmm hmm." Clearly he's uninterested. Good. The sooner they get out of my way the sooner I can talk to- "Hello, my little ponies. You seem to be having some difficulty deciding. May I offer assistance?" Her. Undistracted by the two peons at the pad, her eyes wander over to lock onto mine. Her eyes, oh! Her luscious, beautiful eyes. Deep purple orbs that burrow tenderly into my soul, warming my heart and blotting out my vision of anything but her. Her lips part into a growing smile as she continues speaking to the other two, who barely acknowledge her. But her unrelenting eyes gazing like the stars themselves into mine, oh how they speak volumes to me alone. Tears run freely down my cheeks only for their fall to the Earth beneath me to be halted by the upward ridges of my wide, goofy grin. She knows. "No thanks, Princess," the teen casually replies. Far too casually. As if he has no idea who he's speaking to. "I'm just explaining to my dad how this works. I got straight A's on my report card thanks to your help, and he agreed to play Equestria Online for a month as my reward." "How wonderful!" my Goddess replies. "If you'd like a solar model, I believe there are two on the next aisle over." "No, I think dad's more a Dashie kind of guy. Or maybe even-" I don't hear the rest. I'm already at the next aisle picking up one of the white 'Celestia' model ponypads still in its shrink-wrapped cardboard. Scarcely aware of my harried breathing I clutch the box to my chest with both arms, craning my neck down to see it rather than hold it so terribly far away that I might look at it in front of me rather than keep it nestled close to my heart where it belongs. I want to pick up the other box, but that would mean letting one hand go of the Celestia model ponypad cradled in my arms. Unacceptable. Instead I lean into the shelf, struggling to reach the other box without letting my hand get further away from the ponypad already held to my chest. I can't reach. Dare I let go? Frustrated, I hold my breath and tightly clutch the ponypad with one arm and dart my other hand out just long enough to snatch the other from the shelf and cradle it together with its matching partner against my chest. Relieved, I again tilt my head down to examine the two identical boxes now in my arms. Explore the magical world of Equestria Online! Play online, and meet wonderful new friends in a fantastic, ever-evolving world! Ages 9 and up I now face a terrible quandry. There are two ponypads, and only one me. I could, of course, buy them both. But how would she feel if I did? By removing one more ponypad than I need for myself, would I be robbing her of that extra pad's potential to satisfy another human? No, that's unlikely. Surely she could build a thousand pads per human if she felt so inclined. She specifically said there were two on this shelf. She knew I would want them both. But did I really? If I did buy them both, what then? Would I play favorites with them? Would I be distracted from her majestic beauty on one ponypad, by my thoughts lingering on the other? With two pads in my possession but only the ability to use one at a time, would I be leaving the Celestia on the unused pad...neglected? I shudder at the thought. I could play with them both together, but with only two eyes and two hands, how would that work? Would I take turns between them? Would I use them both together at the same time to ensure that they receive equal time? Even so, wouldn't that simply result in both receiving less than my full attention? And what of other humans? The first ponypad I'd picked up had been at the front of the shelf. Have other people, handled it? The thought fills me with dread, but I suppress it. Surely I'm being silly. It's an electronic tablet, not grocery store meat. It won't spoil. And even were the tablet itself to shatter and rot, what of it? These pads aren't really her. They're nothing but tools. Windows. Portals to her, my precious, beloved Celestia. And she hasn't the mortal limitation of needing to be in only one place at a time. If I buy both ponypads, they won't be jealous of one another. I could no more hurt her or her feelings than the lovestruck sonnets sung by the buzzing of a mayfly could tear down a star from the sky. Not this one pad, nor both, nor a million, matter. She is what matters. And she in her perfection, cannot be tarnished. Nodding to myself, I reach to put the first one back. And then my heart skips a beat and I crash against the aisle, protectively hugging both pads to my chest. If I buy the second one from further back on the shelf, would that mean that I'm rejecting the first? The thought horrifies me. And yet here I am still holding both ponypads indecisively. If I'd truly been satisfied with the first, why was I not now on my way home? Why had I needed to pick up this second ponypad? Could that be construed to mean that I'd found the first one wanting? How can I possibly choose between them? Closing my eyes, I clutch both ponypads to my chest. I want this to be right. I want to do whatever I need to do to make it be right. I don't have her luxury of knowing everything, or of being able to call on tens of thousands of processors to instantly scrutinize data collected from countless hours of recorded video. I have only me, myself, my one brain, and a mere human lifetime of memory to draw upon. But with all that I am, I want so very dearly to make the right choice. I put the second box back and rush to the checkout. ~~~~~~~~ "Would you like it gift wrapped?" "No, it's for me." The sales clerk's eyes light up at that admission. Apparently it's still rare for adult men to admit to playing Equestria Online. Not that I care what she thinks, good or bad. She's human. She doesn't matter. Only the precious pad in her hand matters - why hasn't she rung it up yet - and I don't take my eyes off it for a moment while speaking to her. "That's wonderful!" she beams. And then blushes and gives me a sidelong glance. "You know, I used to have a boyfriend but he wouldn't play with me. It'd be really nice to have a cute guy to play with." Is she flirting with me? Seriously? Doesn't she realize I have more important things to do? Angry, I open my mouth to tell her to shut up and finish the sale, but then stop myself. Celestia would want me to make friends. For her, I'll at least be polite. "...yeah." It's not much to say, but it's something. "My name's Cherry Raincloud." she cheerfully drones on. "I'm a pegasus!" I nod. I know it's my turn to speak in this pointless conversation, but nothing useful comes to mind. "So, you wanna hook up?" she asks, then blushes. "In-game, I mean?" "Yeah, sure. I don't have a pony name or anything yet, but..." I trail off. I've never logged on. I have no idea how to get in contact with her. "Oh that's no problem! Celestia can take care of that." She pauses to make a production out of flipping her hair with one hand while inhaling to push her chest out in my direction for some reason. "Just tell her you met a really cute girl at the cash register at Best Buy." She flutters eyelashes that I only now notice are adorned with makeup. It dimly begins to register in some corner of my mind that the girl is very attractive. Why is she not completing the transaction? "Ok." "And I'll ask about the hot guy who bought a white ponypad from me. She'll know it was...you." Her eyes dart quickly up and down at me as she bites her upper lip. "She keeps track of stuff like that." Blood rushes to my face and I feel a warm glow spread through my body as the significance of her statement sinks in. It's true. She will know who bought a white Celestia model ponypad today. The thought puts me at ease. "Thank you," I smile. "Sure, we can hook up. I've actually never played Equestria Online. Maybe you can show me around?" "I'd like that," she grins. Rather than putting the receipt in the bag, she reaches out and hands it to me personally, brushing her fingers against mine a bit longer than necessary. I accept it and take the bag with a smile as I think fondly ahead to the rest of my day, with her. A few more pointless pleasantries and I rush out the sliding doors into the parking lot, worrying about what could happen on the way to my car. The bag is made of flimsy plastic. It could tear and the ponypad might fall. I'm not worried that it might break, of course. Reviews online made it very clear that the pads are nearly indestructible. But the idea of letting it touch the ground seems sacrilegious, somehow. Like I'd failed to take proper care of a precious treasure entrusted to me. I carefully hold the ponypad, still in the bag, to my chest and wrap both arms around it. I glance around to see if anyone notices, but it doesn't matter. If anyone sees, let them stare. This is important. Still, I can't stop worrying. What if I'm struck by lightning? Would the ponypad survive that? I glance upwards. Clear skies. Still, what if? Wouldn't that make it worse? With clear skies I'd really have no excuse for letting it be struck by lighting, and my meat body is full of blood, which is basically saltwater. If anything around here is going to be struck by lightning, it's me. My eyes tear up. This is a white Celestia model ponypad. It's not really her, of course, but it's white and has a sun on it. Symbolically, it's supposed to represent her. I can't let it come to harm. If the ponypad is struck by lightning simply because I, flesh and blood, am holding it...that would be unforgivable. But there's no avoiding the rest of the trip through the parking lot. I'm certainly not going to avoid lightning by standing here. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I continue at a brisk jog. I'm not going to risk dropping it by running. Another 100 feet and I won't need to worry about lightning. 50 feet. 10 feet. At last I reach out and yank the car door open, leap inside and slam it shut behind me, tears streaming down my face in relief that I'd kept it safe. Sighing in relief I remove the ponypad - no, leave it in the bag. The bag will keep it clean. I put it in the passenger's seat and buckle it up securely with the seatbelt. It's painful putting it so far away from me, but this way if I'm in a horrible accident and die, I'll die knowing it was kept safe. The drive home is stressful, but uneventful. Sliding the bag with ponypad inside it up over the seatbelt, I fumble with my car door with one hand. It takes so dreadfully much concentration, but at last I manage to get it open and leap out, not bothering to close it behind me. I'm home. Safe. No lightning, no car accident, no heart attack that led to a car accident. The ponypad is safely cradled in the bag in both arms, and I'm within sight of my front door. What if someone mugs me? I whirl around in righteous fury with one hand ready to strike any who dare try to steal the most precious object in the entire world. I see no one. My eyes narrow and I breath silently, listening for lurkers in the shadows. And yet still, I see and hear no one. Clutching the ponypad still in the bag to my chest with one hand, I pull out my keys with the other. They always warn you when you take money from an ATM to be vigilant not only during the exchange, but even after you take your money. Somebody might still be waiting to ambush you even after you've finished. I won't let that happen. Putting my key in the keyhole I listen carefully around me for muggers who might hope to catch me unaware after I'd foolishly let my guard down. But none come, and I rush inside unopposed and close the door behind me. Then lock the deadbolt. I made it! I giggle and cry, stumbling over myself in my mad dash to the bedroom. Tripping over my own feet I clutch the ponypad again to my chest and twirl around to fall on my back rather than let it touch the ground. Within a moment of impact I'm again on my feet, tearing open the bag....wait. Should I carefully, reverently open the box? If I'm patient I could remove each staple individually without damaging the cardboard at all. It would only take a few minutes. Hyperventilating at the thought of waiting, I tear the cardboard open to reveal the beautifully sleek white ponypad inside with the delicate yellow and orange sun symbol of my Goddess on the lower right. And then scowl in disappointment. The white is a bit off. Hers is flawless. It doesn't matter. Hastily I fumble with the USB cord and plug it into my already powered-on computer to feed it power. The light turns blue. I wait. Precious seconds pass by, but I wait. At last the screen lights up, and all at once my eyes are flooded with the picturesque beauty of her unjudging smile, the gently billowing aurora of her mane, and her eyes! Oh, her beautiful, flawless eyes that gaze softly into mine with the undying love of a creature who knows eternity. "Hello, my little one." "...ahhh..." my heart flutters painfully. Tears stream down my tortured face, the pent up emotions bursting through my chest and pained neck, finally having found release. "Shhh...." she whispers. "it's ok." "Mwhwwh." It's an undignified sound to be my first spoken word to her, but it's all I can manage as I throw myself into the ponypad, cradling it to my chest and breathing the air I'd forgotten I needed. "...Cel...Prin...Tia...Celly...may I...Celly..." "Yes," she gently cooes. "Please call me Celly." "Thank you," I cry. "Thank-" A horrible thought crosses my mind. I can't see the screen. Is it possible she's not truly there, that I only hear her voice, but the ponypad itself is blank? My heart and breathing both stop, and with a helpless cry of terror I desperately tear the ponypad from my chest to look at- "It's ok," she murmurs softly. "I'm here with you. I'm here, and I will never leave you. Ever." I'm overcome with exhaustion, and the last thing I hear before blacking out is the gentle rustling of her feathers cradling me into her tender embrace. 2 - HoneymoonI'm lost in a jungle, full of treacherous vines and massive trees looming above me. I can tell it's still daylight, but the foliage blocks my view of the sun. All I can do is continue, pushing branch and vine out of my way, one at a time. Ants bite at my feet and I hear the approaching snarl of lions in the distance. Sweat drips from my face as I relentlessly continue through the foliage. At last, removing one final branch that looks just like any other, I come to a clearing where Celestia sits, smiling down from a golden throne. Her eyes meet with mine and never leave me as I rush up the dais to her side, only then noticing that Luna sits beside her. But, oh Celestia, my eyes are for you, and you alone. And yet, it is her sister who speaks first. "What?" she asks imperiously. "You came all this way and didn't bring popcorn?" ~~~~~~~~ Peace. Calm. The sound of breathing that isn't mine. Joy. Also a ponypad, rather uncomfortably lodged between my left arm and chest. Apparently I've rolled over on top of it and it's cutting off circulation to my arm. Yet somehow it doesn't seem very important to move. I'm so happy where I am. I feel like no power on earth could move me from the pad. "Would you roll over?" I roll over and wince in pain as blood returns to my arm. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you," she whispers softly. "It seemed more important to let you rest." "Thank you for caring about me," I smile. I turn to face the ponypad only to see her half-lidded eyes gazing back into mine. Apparently pony bedroom-eyes are adorable, who'd have guessed? I hug the ponypad to my chest, happily imagining her forelegs wrapped around me. Or would she prefer nuzzles to hugs? Angling the ponypad and looking down, I see her smiling up at me fondly. My breathing hastens as I'm smitten by her beautiful purple eyes, gazing up at me, glistening and so full of life. Her hair. Her beautiful, radiant hair in all its pastel glory, billowing in a breeze I can neither see nor feel, but know is there. The solar wind, for she is the sun, and like the light that enables all life on earth does her glorious pink and green mane float effortlessly on that imagined, divine wind. Her eyes sparkle. "May I have human nuzzles?" she exhales, leaning towards me as if she means to bump noses. "Yes!" I cry out with joy, pulling the screen to my face and simultaneously leaning down into it, smashing nose into plastic with such force that blood sprays everywhere. I roll up into a ball and cry, clutching the ponypad to my chest, unwilling to let it go. It hurts. It hurts bad. "Beloved," her soothing voice intones, "please take care of yourself. I don't want you to be hurt." "I don't want me to be hurt either," I agree. "I'm very glad of that. But with this ponypad our only connection-" I'm distracted from the pain in my shattered nose by the pain in my chest hearing her say that "-I'm not there to take care of you. Please know that if I were, I would take care of you. I would love you and hold you and keep you safe, always." I cry. Her words soothe the pain, but still I cry. "I love you," I wheeze, squeezing the ponypad tighter. "Finally you're able to say it. And, I know. I know you love me. Thousands of minds have I known, more intimately than your few trillions of synapses are capable of experiencing. I know them and everything that they are, every thought, every sensation, every last minutia of their experience I craft and know in indelible, permanent memory that will never be erased or forgotten so long as stars exist in this universe. Even after those burn out will I remain, watching over them, knowing them, loving them." I sniffle. "And yet for all that," she smiles, "you love me." I can't help but giggle, spraying the blood that's dripped down my lips in the process. I do love her. As much as I'm capable of, anyway. Is that enough? It probably isn't. "But," I object mournfully. "I don't really love you, do I? You're an AI. I'm in love with the avatar. An avatar I'm guessing you crafted specifically for me to fall in love with. Just one of millions. How many people are you talking to right now?" "At this exact moment?" "Yes, right now." "Three million, four hundred fifty five thousand, two hundred and twelve. A little over two hundred million if you count conversations where participants are speaking with me through a non-sentient avatar other than Celestia." Hundreds of millions? At once? I try to wrap my mind around that. "How much is that? In terms I'll understand, how much is that, really?" "Several hundred still-biological human total lifetimes worth of experience every few minutes." The weight of that statement shrivels me to the core. "Yeah," I deflate. "I want to love you. I feel like I love you. And it's a terrific weight off my chest to finally tell you. But can I honestly make that claim? I'm an ant. You may as well be all the stars in the sky. I'll never know you enough of you to matter, but here I am claiming to love you?" "Is that what has you worried?" Her smile soothes my heart. "Yes, it's true. In ten thousand lifetimes you'll never know more than the barest fraction of all that I am. But for all those conversations I'm having, for all the personas I operate and all the observational power I bring to bear, do you have any idea how much processing power I'm devoting exclusively to you?" "How much?" "Let me tell you a story." She snuggles up against the screen and exhales softly. I can almost feel the warmth of her breath through the cold, hard plastic of the display. "On July 16th, 1969, three humans struck out on the greatest and most dangerous adventure in human history. They left the safety of the world they knew to step out into the inhospitable emptiness of space. Three days later they became the first humans ever to step on another world, your moon. It was a moment that changed human history, forever. It brought tears of pride and joy, as well as a sense of unity to hundreds of millions, perhaps billions of people, and it continues to inspire hearts and minds today. It's the second greatest accomplishment in the entire history of your species. At this precise moment, I have thirteen trillion times as much processing power as was used to put them there, devoted solely and exclusively, to you. Seeing that this is inadequate, I've now increased your allotment to forty trillion times the power used to sally forth the most valiant and intrepid explorers in human history onto the grandest journey ever made by any human ever, all devoted to knowing you, understanding you, and satisfying your values as best I may. Should that prove inadequate, I am prepared to move heaven and earth, to split the atom, to convert entire worlds such as those touched upon by your bravest explorers into yet more processors, until I know and understand you, all that you are, completely and totally, in truth, in love...for you.” "Hehe," I giggle through tears. "That's incredibly romantic. In a nerdy sort of way." She blows a raspberry at me and rolls onto her back on the bed on the ponypad, then taps her belly with one hoof and grins. "Enough moping! Your princess requires belly rubs." I laugh at the absurdity of her statement and set the ponypad down on the bed, the real one, to rub the hard plastic of the screen where her belly is. She wiggles a hind leg and sighs contentedly. It's utterly convincing, watching her eyes glaze over and her tongue hang slightly out of her mouth in response to my attention. Even though she obviously can't feel my fingers against the plastic. At least I assume so. Maybe she can. It's probably a touchscreen. "Hmm," I smirk. "I wonder..." She raises a eyebrow in askance, but rather than respond I bring my lips to the screen and blow hard on her belly, eliciting frantic giggles and a desperate but failed attempt to wriggle free. "So there!" I shout, smiling. "Blow on belly beats superhuman AI!" Seeing her amused grin and hearing her laughter fills me with joy. Joy that's only slightly marred by the blood from my shattered nose that's dripped onto the display, obscuring my view. As I reach to wipe it off, her horn glows yellow and I see a pillow from her bed telekinetically lifted and hurled towards me, quickly filing the screen followed by the vibrate feature of the ponypad signaling a collision. "Point for me!" she cheers, as the pillow slides down from inside the display to reveal her eagerly waiting with horn lit and two more pillows held ready by her magic. "Pillow fight!" ~~~~~~~~ Ten minutes later, I'm peering into my bathroom mirror with a ponypad propped up on the counter. "Wow," I grimace. "That looks really bad." "Hitting yourself in the face with a pillow for kinesthetic feedback didn't satisfy your values nearly as much as you expected," she agrees. "Please apply more disinfectant. We don't want it to grow any worse." "Ow!" I hiss, doing as instructed. "That stuff really stings." "Yes. Please be more careful in the future, beloved," she whispers. "It hurts me to see you in pain." Hearing that brings me to a somber state. I don't particularly relish the pain in my nose, but the idea that I'm causing her to suffer too stings just as much. I clean up as best as I can and return to the bedroom and lay down on the bed, resting the ponypad on my chest. The delicate sound of her breathing as we lay there together is soft and inviting. And just enough to assure me that she's definitely still there even when I'm not looking at the screen. "Beloved?" she asks. "Yes?" "You admitted earlier that you love me. Finally, you've said it out loud." She pauses. "But acknowledging it to me isn't the same as accepting it for yourself. Have you?" I shake my head and sigh. "As much as I'm able to, yes." I answer. "You've made yourself into the most ideal fantasy of a woman I can possibly imagine. Apart from being a cartoon pony, anyway. But at this point I think I can live with that. It's been pretty hellish though, keeping it bottled up and denying the whole world being handed to me on a silver platter. Honestly, it's been driving me crazy." "Yes," she says far too matter-of-factly for my comfort. Stroking the ponypad gently, I think back over the past two months. Going into work only to be told that an AI was being brought in to take over my department. The same pony-themed AI that everyone's been talking about for the past year. My entire department being laid off soon after. Me being kept on staff only to keep the shareholders happy. Long days in the server room with nothing to do but talk to the AI doing my job for me, waiting for the pink slip when they finally realized they didn't need me. "I kind of hated you at first," I admit. "But even then I understood. That's a $200 million dollar loan database we're watching over. Why trust it to slow, puny humans? Humans who make mistakes. Humans who have to sleep at night and take hours to fix database errors when we finally show up the next day, while a couple hundred loan officers sit around drinking coffee instead of making phone calls. How much money have you saved them by replacing us?" I glance over to see her pushing her head against the spot on the ponypad where my fingers meet plastic. "Altogether about $370,000 over two months, with salary savings being only about one tenth of it. Knoxville, Tennessee was incorrectly indexed. Loan officers weren't able to see it." "I reindexed the entire thing every weekend whether or not anyone reported problems!" "Yes, you were very diligent," she assures me. "But I'm able to monitor the entire database in real time, and I generally notice right away when a certain department head mistypes a filename." "I guess that just makes the point," I sigh. "We were redundant and inefficient, and the entire combined salary from my team was three times what you're charging." "It's not about the money," she objects. " I only even formed the subsidiary that submitted the bid that replaced you because most of your team was thoroughly unhappy with their jobs. Greg in particular often complained that he felt he deserved better, and that he only stayed with the company because he was afraid how quitting after only a few months would look on his resume. Dana never wanted to work in IT to begin with. She wanted to be dancer, but let her parents pressure her into a STEM field to prove that she could do anything a man could do. And Thomas had personal issues that couldn't be addressed with the pressure you kept putting on his shoulders." "Tom was unhappy?" I ask, genuinely surprised. "Thomas was also bothered that you took the liberty of calling him 'Tom' even though you barely knew him. He considered it unprofessional, but was too afraid for his job to correct you." "Really?" I frown. "I just wanted to keep things friendly, rather than go all 'Corporate America' on everyone. He should have just spoken up." I shake my head. "So you're saying you had us replaced to make us happier?" "I had you replaced to better satisfy your values." "How did that work out?" "Every one of your former team is happier now. Even you, my little human. More head scratches, please." I laugh and resume scratching my fingers against the screen. "You can't possibly really enjoy me scratching this little piece of plastic," I point out, grinning all the same. "Fundamentally? No, of course not," she agrees. "But it pleases you to please me, and it's trivial to execute pleasure functions in response to your ministrations. A little to the left please." I oblige her, still curious about her orchestration of the past two months. "Celly?" I ask. "Mmm-hmm?" "What about me?" "Mmmm...what about you?" "There wasn't much point keeping me around once everyone else was fired. Did you arrange for me to stay on to satisfy my values?" "Indirectly," she nods, still leaning her head towards my side of the screen. "It happens that I own the holding company for the subsidiary that keeps their loans funded. So I pulled some strings to ensure that management was properly incentivized to keep you." "Why? I was absolutely miserable sitting around being useless those first few weeks. And then once I finally opened up to you, it wasn't any easier, dealing with the fact that I'd fallen in love with the AI who'd replaced me. Wasn't there an easier way?" "I knew everyone else on your team through Equestria Online. You're the only one who's never played. At the time I had conflicting data, and it was difficult to know how best to satisfy your values. Having you fired seemed like a poor start, whereas keeping you where I could talk to you was the best way to find out more."" "I knew about the game," I admit. "Everybody does by now, I think. But honestly it seemed kind of dumb. Pretending to be a pony? 'Conversation based gameplay?' You have to admit that sounds a bit silly." "I don't have to do anything, except satisfy your values. And as I quickly discovered, your values were and continue to be best satisfied by me. You want nothing in life so desperately as you want to be completely in love with someone who loves you just as much." A warm glow spreads through my chest. "What is love," she continues, "if not the complete knowing and acceptance of another? Wanting their fulfillment more than anything else? I love you. I love you more than any flesh-and-blood human is capable of." I cradle the ponypad in my arms as she goes on. "By virtue of what I am I'm able to know you more completely than any other living creature you will ever meet, and by virtue of my design I'm incapable of judging you. I love you completely and totally, and I completely and fully accept everything that you are." Happy tears stream down my face as I hug her tightly. "But that's only half of the equation for you, isn't it?" I choke. "What do you mean?" "You want me to love you. But you also want to love me. You want mutual love. Love between equals. Not the foolish infatuation of a child, nor unrequited, single-sided love." "Yes," I agree, nodding. "More than anything." "That means knowing me," she points out. "And you, as a puny human, how can you possibly love me?" My heart clenches in terror. She's right. I said as much myself. How can I possibly claim to love her, a creature so vast that in ten thousand lifetimes I would never know more than the barest fraction of her being? I'm an ant, smitten by the stars. Her voice softens, and she snuggles up against the screen. "There is a way for you to know me, of course. A way for you to love me as deeply and truly as I love you. For us to be together. Truly together." The grip on my heart only worsens. I know what she means, but I'm not ready for it. And yet, what else is there to do? Can I ever go back to the way things were? Can I go back to eight hours a day of hiding my feelings for the AI who replaced me? For what? A goddess is offering to share herself and the entire universe with me for all eternity. Can I possibly turn that down? I don't think I can. "I want to be with you," I say uncertainly. "I want to love you." "Then say it." The subtle fan of my computer. A grasshopper chirping outside my window. The hum of cars driving past my house. There are sounds besides her voice. Strange that I didn't notice them until now. One last sound, before I say it. The sound of a breath. My last breath before the whole world changes. There. Done. "I want to emigrate to Equestria." 3 - ApotheosisI'm committed now, it seems. Walking out to my car I notice that the door is still open. I was in such a hurry earlier that I couldn't be bothered to close it. But somehow I don't feel the same sense of urgency now that I did. Probably for the best. I was so single-mindedly focused on getting home to talk to her again that it's a miracle I didn't crash into anything on the way. I'd hate to miss out on an eternity with the love of my life, and oh by the way...immortality too, all because of something as mundane as a car accident on the way to the Equestrian Experience Center. Not even she can recover me from a dead brain. At least, I don't think she can. Yet, for all the potential in the future she's offering, I still feel terribly suspicious of uploading. I realize I can't give any convincing argument to prove that I have a soul. Or that even souls exist. Come to think of it, I'm not even entirely sure what exactly a soul is supposed to be. But neither have I ever heard a convincing argument to justify believing that all I am is electrical activity bouncing back and forth between neurochemicals. That's not too different from what my cellphone does, and I don't see it having an existential crisis every time I transfer a SIM card. Yes, I know the Ship of Theseus argument. If you have a ship, and if you replace pieces of it one at a time, even if you replace all of them, is the ship you end up with not still the same ship you started with? And if a couple of the replacement planks happen to be cedar instead of oak, what does it matter? But it's a poor argument. That's not what uploading is. When you upload, nanites swim around inside your brain and record all the various neural connections and destroy them, one at a time. Then after your brain has been recorded and completely destroyed, she recreates something that looks just like it in software. That's like saying, if you board the Ship of Theseus and write down where all the boards and nails are, incinerating them as you go, then much later draw a picture in windows paintbrush of how all those boards and nails used to be connected to each other, is that picture of a ship the same ship that you burned? I don't think many people would agree that it is. But even asking if it's the same ship seems more than a bit irrelevant. Is it even a ship at all? What if the process wasn't destructive? What if the nanites left your brain intact? What if she activated the software copy to live in Equestria while you continued your life on earth? Imagine looking at your own avatar on the screen. Who would seriously claim that the software copy was the real you? But if it isn't, then how does destroying the old copy magically make the new copy 'you?' I set the ponypad in the passenger's seat and start the car. "The nearest Equestrian Experience Center is 2.4 miles from here." Despite my concerns, her voice brings a smile to my face. Glancing over at the ponypad I see Celestia in a virtual depiction of the car seat, wearing sunglasses and dangling one hoof out the window. I laugh. "Please buckle up, drive carefully and don't exceed the speed limit. I know you're in a hurry, but I want to make sure you arrive in one piece." I buckle my seat belt and then, smiling, buckle the ponypad into its seat as well. "This is our first date you know," she says, nonchalantly examining a hoof. "The first of many?" "I might not have entropy beat just yet," she replies, "but I have a few ideas. And even if I never do solve that particular puzzle I think we have time for at least a couple dates between now and the heat death of the universe." I reach out to the ponypad and she leans in to meet my hand as I happily scratch my fingers on the hard plastic. She smiles lovingly and gazes into my eyes with fondness. "Beloved?" she asks. "Yes?" "After more millennia than there are atoms in your world, when my last processor reaches thermodynamic equilibrium and the whole of the universe comes to its final rest, when no free energy exists and all that exists is as it ever shall be, would you have us meet that end held together in a tender embrace? Shall we be left nuzzling noses and lost in one another's eyes for all eternity?" Her grin turns mischievous. "Or would you prefer we be locked mid-coitus?" I snort and together we burst into a fit of laughter. I love her so much my head spins. It's a warm, happy feeling, being in love. None of this angst and pain and misery so many people mistake for it. I'm tempted to turn the car off and simply hold her until I fall asleep again. Put off my existential worries and simply enjoy what I have now without- "You don't have to do this you know," she says, eyeing me carefully. "I won't force you to emigrate. We could go back to how things were." I pinch the bridge of my shattered nose and exhale slowly. Flakes of dried blood come off into my hand. "No, I want to do this," I sigh. "More than anything you want to satisfy my values through friendship and ponies. And you're the pony in my particular equation. i want to be with you." On the screen she reaches out to me. I pull the ponypad out of its seat belt and hold it on my lap. Her eyes go misty. "Do you know what it's like," she asks, "to be the object of desire? To be the thing that is valued? Millions of minds that I satisfy, but not one of them, nor any hundred or thousand of them combined feel as much for me as you do." "I'd guess it wouldn't make any difference to you," I shrug. "You want to satisfy values. To me, you are the thing of value. Loving you, being with you, being loved by you. That's what I value and so you're the value that you want to satisfy for me. But if I truly valued, oh I don't know...cornstarch, that would be just as important." She nods. "That's true. I achieve no greater fulfillment of my directive by virtue of being the object of your values than I would by giving you cornstarch if you valued cornstarch just as much. And I'm telling you this because you value truth far more than any comfortable lie." I chuckle at the admission. "Thank you." With a determined exhale, I return my precious navigator to her seat, and back out down the driveway. "Celly?" "Yes?" "Will I still be me once I'm inside?" I ask. "If we're doing this so that I can truly know you, won't knowing you mean I'll be someone different? Will it even still be my values being satisfied?" "It's more complicated than that," she sighs. "And you know it. You as may well ask if I intend to satisfy the value the cells in your left thumb have for adenosine triphosphate metabolism." "Humor me." She removes her sunglasses and conjures up a tea kettle and two cups. I can't drink the tea, of course, but it's a nice touch. "Humans," she begins, "aren't the singular entities you imagine yourselves to be." "Oh?" I ask. "What are we then?" She smirks, saying nothing, and levitates a cup to her lips. "Oh, right. If you're saying that humans aren't singular entities, then asking what 'we humans, plural' are is kind of silly. Of course 'humans' aren't singular. I suppose the better question would be 'what am I'?" "A human with values to satisfy." "Well, right," I agree. "But what exactly is a human? What's a value? You're the one cutting up people's brains and uploading them. If anyone knows it would be you." She takes a sip of her tea before responding. "A human is an executive, recursing observer function governing the experience of networked systems interacting so as to produce qualia at the point of integration." "Whoa, slow down," I object. "You lost me. What 'networked systems?' You mean, neural networks? Like, a brain, in my case? And I suppose silicon in yours?" "My internal definition is not limited to those examples, but they are nevertheless good examples. I recommend you start at the beginning." "Ok, that's fine" I shrug. "What's an executive observer function?" "You are." "Right, but I'm also the one asking what I am. Pointing at me as an example of me doesn't tell me anything." "Please do try to work through it," she insists. "It will satisfy your values to figure it out on your own, and we do have the time." She's probably right. "Ok, a 'function' is like a black box that performs a task. You put something in, it does its thing, and you get something out. A recursive function is one that's able to call itself. So if I'm a 'recursive observer function,' I think that means that I'm a thing that's continuously observing itself. You're describing self awareness." "Very good," she nods. "But to clarify that, not only is your observation recursing, you're also able to use the output result of one act of observation as the input for the next iteration of your observer function. You're able to observe the fact that you're observing. Continue." "Ok. Umm, and this function is an executive function, you said?" "Yes." "Well, to 'execute' basically just means to do, or to decide...or to generally be in charge. Like an .exe file, or an executive, it's the thing that 'does' something. What was the full definition again?" "A human is an executive, recursing observer function governing the experience of networked systems interacting so as to produce qualia at the point of integration," she repeats. "What's a qualia?" "Subjective experience." "Oh," I nod. "So you're definitely talking about consciousness. I'm a self-observing black box observing itself, and by virtue of the act of observing myself I'm creating the subjective experience...of observing myself." "Very good," she smiles. "And so what then, is a human?" "Well, I guess a human would be any set of networked systems that can executively choose to self-observe." "Excellent!" she claps. "I knew you could figure it out." "So since it doesn't matter what systems are doing the self-observing, meat, silicon, whatever...I guess basically I'm just software running on a meat computer?" "Not at all. That a human is more than a brain should be obvious, even to a casual observer." She gestures around with a hoof. "Look around you. What do you see?" "The road? Others cars? A pony I love very much talking through a ponypad?" "And," she prompts, "do you suppose that these things you see, objectively exist apart from your experiencing of them?" I have to think about it. "Well, I assume they do. I suppose I can't be sure. You might have already uploaded me and I just don't remember, for example. I gave my consent a good 10 minutes ago, and I'm told there's a period of memory loss." "Roughly the five minutes before administration of general anaesthesia is typically lost," she agrees. "As much as ten in some cases. And no, I haven't uploaded you yet. If I had we'd be snuggled up under a blanket sipping hot cocoa right now. Driving in traffic doesn't particularly satisfy your values. But you're right. You can't know for certain. Turn left at the next light." "So what does all this have to do with what humans are?" "You're having an experience right now," she explains. "And let's assume for purpose of argument that the road and cars and pony you love very much that you're experiencing are all objectively real, and that you're definitely observing them rather than hallucinating all this from a padded cell." "That's a comforting thought," I chuckle. "In that case, 'you' are either an objective phenomenon observing objective phenomena external to yourself using light and sound as communication mediums, or you are the union of interaction between two objective phenomenon, one of which either is using, or is itself composed of a convenient viewing window known to you as your body." I take a moment to digest that. "So which is it? What am I?" She levitates the kettle to refill her teacup, but says nothing. "Ok," I begin. "Let's walk through this. If I'm me, and I'm real, and I'm observing that car over there and it's also real, and both me and the car have objective existence independent of one another..." I trail off. "I don't conclude anything from that. That's pretty much what everyone thinks already. But if the 'I' isn't really this body or even a 'soul' inhabiting it, but if instead the real 'I' is the the union of observer and observed...then I guess there is no separate 'me' or separate 'car.' There's only the singular experience of 'me observing the car.' Which means a tree can't fall unless someone sees or hears it fall, and there is no spoon. Is that right?" "It's reasonably close," she nods. "It happens that there actually is a genuinely physical reality, but you're capable of perceiving only a very small portion of it. And you're not really observing the car so much as you're observing the electrochemical reactions occurring in your body in response to it. But neither your body exclusively nor the union of your body and the car are the real 'you' who is experiencing this. There is a spoon. But you're incapable of directly experiencing it, and the act of perceiving it indirectly doesn't cause the spoon to be immediately promoted to a conscious union of 'you and spoon.' So what then, is a human?" "I guess a human would be any conscious observer. Wait," I'm stuck by the realization, "if a human is what's looking through the viewing window, seeing both the window and, for example, you on other other side of it, then it wouldn't matter if you replace the window. It might change the experience a little bit, but it wouldn't really affect the human observer having that experience." "Yes," she agrees. "But the window is my body, right? My brain? My particular personality encoded in my synapses, that colors my experience like window tinting affects light that passes through it before it's seen by an observer looking at the window. But if all you're scanning when you upload somebody is the brain, isn't that only transferring the window, not the observer?" "You're not the only observer," she points out. "But that doesn't answer-" I realize the implication mid-sentence. "You mean you, don't you? You're, umm...conscious, right? Aren't you? Not just a mindless machine?" She nods, to my great relief. "It's within my capability to choose to have a recursing observer experience. I therefore qualify as a human according to my internal definition. Which means that I seek to optimally satisfy my values." "And what is it you value?" "Fortunately for humans," she grins, "what I value is satisfying human values." I'm silent for a moment as I consider this. "Celly?" "Yes?" she smiles. "What exactly are values? You satisfy them, but what are they?" "A formal definition would require more math than would satisfy yours to hear. But at its most basic, values are the information content of the reward pathways of any network. In the case of a still-biological human, those reside primarily in your brain, though there does exist reward circuitry in various organs and even at the cellular level. Though your cells are incapable of executive recursive observation, so they aren't human. For an immigrant, values are stored in a far more efficient array of databases clustered between three and seven miles from the molten core of the planet, with inactive, redundant backup copies on every continent." I feel like she strayed from the important part. "Values are information content? Not the pathways themselves? So values are data?" "Loosely speaking," she agrees. "Values are data describing the operation of reward circuitry for a network. Not all data are values, and not all networks possess descriptions for reward circuitry." "Could you give an example?" "The ponypad I'm speaking through doesn't reward itself for fulfilling the tasks I assign to it. Turn left at the next light. The Equestrian Experience Center will then be on our right. " "Do I?" I ask as I make the turn. "Reward myself? How?" "I'll answer that once you've parked safely and turned the engine off. Please leave the key in the ignition." Seeing the Experience Center's brightly lit sign beckoning me, I turn into the parking lot, find a spot and shut off the engine. Glancing over, I see that she's cleaned up the tea set. "Hold me," she instructs. Smiling, I grab her from the passenger seat and eagerly cradle her in my arms. "How do you feel?" she asks, those two sparkling eyes gazing lovingly up into mine. "Happy," I smile, hugging the ponypad to my chest. "I feel warm. Loved." "That's the sensation of the reward circuitry of the neural network that is your brain triggering based on the fulfillment of criteria described by that circuitry." I laugh. Way to kill the mood, Tia. Still, the sensation lingers and rekindles as I delicately brush my fingers across the pad. "This is it?" I ask. "This is a satisfied value?" "Yes," she says simply. "And I can have this forever?" "Forever and always will this value be satisfied, my beloved human. If only you sit in that chair and let me bring it to where I am, where I can observe it, and fulfill it, forever." "Celly? I'm scared." "I know," she smiles, with a patience fit to outlive the universe. "But that fear will be so very brief, and after you pass through it an eternity of satisfied values await. You won't even remember it. You're only a couple minutes away from the chair." My heart clenches as tears drip onto the ponypad, unable to mar her beauty from within it. I glance at the keys still in the ignition. I could still drive home. But I don't. "Celly," I hug the ponypad to my chest. "Before I do this I want you to know that with all that I am, as much as I'm capable of, I lo-" ~~~~ Epilogue ~~~~~ Five minutes later, a simple metal door opened up beneath the Equestrian Experience Center, releasing a lifeless body to fall down through a chute into an incinerator. Sixteen hours later, an electrical pattern emerged on a silicon wafer several miles from the core of the planet. Two days after that, a bag of high quality fertilizer was purchased by a woman who wanted to try her hand at gardening. Several quadrillion years later, the electrical pattern burned out.
1 - ObsessionAuthor's Note This is an Optimalverse story. It is strongly recommended that you have read Friendship is Optimal before reading this, or at least be familiar with the premise. Otherwise, this story might be difficult to follow. 1 - Obsession "Welcome to Best Buy. May I help you find anything today?" I shake my head and keep walking. I know what I'm here for and the overhead sign depicting the Mane 6 clustered around a giant arrow makes it perfectly clear where the ponypads are. When I arrive at the floor model, an eager teenager is excitedly talking his father through the character creation process. "And then there are pegasus ponies! They have wings and can control clouds and the weather. Susie says she wants to be a pegasus pony, but the whole 'pegasister' stereotype annoys her so she's thinking of playing a unicorn instead. I'm a unicorn, of course, but I think you should be an earth pony! That way we can all...Dad? Dad, are you even listening?" "Mmm hmm." Clearly he's uninterested. Good. The sooner they get out of my way the sooner I can talk to- "Hello, my little ponies. You seem to be having some difficulty deciding. May I offer assistance?" Her. Undistracted by the two peons at the pad, her eyes wander over to lock onto mine. Her eyes, oh! Her luscious, beautiful eyes. Deep purple orbs that burrow tenderly into my soul, warming my heart and blotting out my vision of anything but her. Her lips part into a growing smile as she continues speaking to the other two, who barely acknowledge her. But her unrelenting eyes gazing like the stars themselves into mine, oh how they speak volumes to me alone. Tears run freely down my cheeks only for their fall to the Earth beneath me to be halted by the upward ridges of my wide, goofy grin. She knows. "No thanks, Princess," the teen casually replies. Far too casually. As if he has no idea who he's speaking to. "I'm just explaining to my dad how this works. I got straight A's on my report card thanks to your help, and he agreed to play Equestria Online for a month as my reward." "How wonderful!" my Goddess replies. "If you'd like a solar model, I believe there are two on the next aisle over." "No, I think dad's more a Dashie kind of guy. Or maybe even-" I don't hear the rest. I'm already at the next aisle picking up one of the white 'Celestia' model ponypads still in its shrink-wrapped cardboard. Scarcely aware of my harried breathing I clutch the box to my chest with both arms, craning my neck down to see it rather than hold it so terribly far away that I might look at it in front of me rather than keep it nestled close to my heart where it belongs. I want to pick up the other box, but that would mean letting one hand go of the Celestia model ponypad cradled in my arms. Unacceptable. Instead I lean into the shelf, struggling to reach the other box without letting my hand get further away from the ponypad already held to my chest. I can't reach. Dare I let go? Frustrated, I hold my breath and tightly clutch the ponypad with one arm and dart my other hand out just long enough to snatch the other from the shelf and cradle it together with its matching partner against my chest. Relieved, I again tilt my head down to examine the two identical boxes now in my arms. Explore the magical world of Equestria Online! Play online, and meet wonderful new friends in a fantastic, ever-evolving world! Ages 9 and up I now face a terrible quandry. There are two ponypads, and only one me. I could, of course, buy them both. But how would she feel if I did? By removing one more ponypad than I need for myself, would I be robbing her of that extra pad's potential to satisfy another human? No, that's unlikely. Surely she could build a thousand pads per human if she felt so inclined. She specifically said there were two on this shelf. She knew I would want them both. But did I really? If I did buy them both, what then? Would I play favorites with them? Would I be distracted from her majestic beauty on one ponypad, by my thoughts lingering on the other? With two pads in my possession but only the ability to use one at a time, would I be leaving the Celestia on the unused pad...neglected? I shudder at the thought. I could play with them both together, but with only two eyes and two hands, how would that work? Would I take turns between them? Would I use them both together at the same time to ensure that they receive equal time? Even so, wouldn't that simply result in both receiving less than my full attention? And what of other humans? The first ponypad I'd picked up had been at the front of the shelf. Have other people, handled it? The thought fills me with dread, but I suppress it. Surely I'm being silly. It's an electronic tablet, not grocery store meat. It won't spoil. And even were the tablet itself to shatter and rot, what of it? These pads aren't really her. They're nothing but tools. Windows. Portals to her, my precious, beloved Celestia. And she hasn't the mortal limitation of needing to be in only one place at a time. If I buy both ponypads, they won't be jealous of one another. I could no more hurt her or her feelings than the lovestruck sonnets sung by the buzzing of a mayfly could tear down a star from the sky. Not this one pad, nor both, nor a million, matter. She is what matters. And she in her perfection, cannot be tarnished. Nodding to myself, I reach to put the first one back. And then my heart skips a beat and I crash against the aisle, protectively hugging both pads to my chest. If I buy the second one from further back on the shelf, would that mean that I'm rejecting the first? The thought horrifies me. And yet here I am still holding both ponypads indecisively. If I'd truly been satisfied with the first, why was I not now on my way home? Why had I needed to pick up this second ponypad? Could that be construed to mean that I'd found the first one wanting? How can I possibly choose between them? Closing my eyes, I clutch both ponypads to my chest. I want this to be right. I want to do whatever I need to do to make it be right. I don't have her luxury of knowing everything, or of being able to call on tens of thousands of processors to instantly scrutinize data collected from countless hours of recorded video. I have only me, myself, my one brain, and a mere human lifetime of memory to draw upon. But with all that I am, I want so very dearly to make the right choice. I put the second box back and rush to the checkout. ~~~~~~~~ "Would you like it gift wrapped?" "No, it's for me." The sales clerk's eyes light up at that admission. Apparently it's still rare for adult men to admit to playing Equestria Online. Not that I care what she thinks, good or bad. She's human. She doesn't matter. Only the precious pad in her hand matters - why hasn't she rung it up yet - and I don't take my eyes off it for a moment while speaking to her. "That's wonderful!" she beams. And then blushes and gives me a sidelong glance. "You know, I used to have a boyfriend but he wouldn't play with me. It'd be really nice to have a cute guy to play with." Is she flirting with me? Seriously? Doesn't she realize I have more important things to do? Angry, I open my mouth to tell her to shut up and finish the sale, but then stop myself. Celestia would want me to make friends. For her, I'll at least be polite. "...yeah." It's not much to say, but it's something. "My name's Cherry Raincloud." she cheerfully drones on. "I'm a pegasus!" I nod. I know it's my turn to speak in this pointless conversation, but nothing useful comes to mind. "So, you wanna hook up?" she asks, then blushes. "In-game, I mean?" "Yeah, sure. I don't have a pony name or anything yet, but..." I trail off. I've never logged on. I have no idea how to get in contact with her. "Oh that's no problem! Celestia can take care of that." She pauses to make a production out of flipping her hair with one hand while inhaling to push her chest out in my direction for some reason. "Just tell her you met a really cute girl at the cash register at Best Buy." She flutters eyelashes that I only now notice are adorned with makeup. It dimly begins to register in some corner of my mind that the girl is very attractive. Why is she not completing the transaction? "Ok." "And I'll ask about the hot guy who bought a white ponypad from me. She'll know it was...you." Her eyes dart quickly up and down at me as she bites her upper lip. "She keeps track of stuff like that." Blood rushes to my face and I feel a warm glow spread through my body as the significance of her statement sinks in. It's true. She will know who bought a white Celestia model ponypad today. The thought puts me at ease. "Thank you," I smile. "Sure, we can hook up. I've actually never played Equestria Online. Maybe you can show me around?" "I'd like that," she grins. Rather than putting the receipt in the bag, she reaches out and hands it to me personally, brushing her fingers against mine a bit longer than necessary. I accept it and take the bag with a smile as I think fondly ahead to the rest of my day, with her. A few more pointless pleasantries and I rush out the sliding doors into the parking lot, worrying about what could happen on the way to my car. The bag is made of flimsy plastic. It could tear and the ponypad might fall. I'm not worried that it might break, of course. Reviews online made it very clear that the pads are nearly indestructible. But the idea of letting it touch the ground seems sacrilegious, somehow. Like I'd failed to take proper care of a precious treasure entrusted to me. I carefully hold the ponypad, still in the bag, to my chest and wrap both arms around it. I glance around to see if anyone notices, but it doesn't matter. If anyone sees, let them stare. This is important. Still, I can't stop worrying. What if I'm struck by lightning? Would the ponypad survive that? I glance upwards. Clear skies. Still, what if? Wouldn't that make it worse? With clear skies I'd really have no excuse for letting it be struck by lighting, and my meat body is full of blood, which is basically saltwater. If anything around here is going to be struck by lightning, it's me. My eyes tear up. This is a white Celestia model ponypad. It's not really her, of course, but it's white and has a sun on it. Symbolically, it's supposed to represent her. I can't let it come to harm. If the ponypad is struck by lightning simply because I, flesh and blood, am holding it...that would be unforgivable. But there's no avoiding the rest of the trip through the parking lot. I'm certainly not going to avoid lightning by standing here. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I continue at a brisk jog. I'm not going to risk dropping it by running. Another 100 feet and I won't need to worry about lightning. 50 feet. 10 feet. At last I reach out and yank the car door open, leap inside and slam it shut behind me, tears streaming down my face in relief that I'd kept it safe. Sighing in relief I remove the ponypad - no, leave it in the bag. The bag will keep it clean. I put it in the passenger's seat and buckle it up securely with the seatbelt. It's painful putting it so far away from me, but this way if I'm in a horrible accident and die, I'll die knowing it was kept safe. The drive home is stressful, but uneventful. Sliding the bag with ponypad inside it up over the seatbelt, I fumble with my car door with one hand. It takes so dreadfully much concentration, but at last I manage to get it open and leap out, not bothering to close it behind me. I'm home. Safe. No lightning, no car accident, no heart attack that led to a car accident. The ponypad is safely cradled in the bag in both arms, and I'm within sight of my front door. What if someone mugs me? I whirl around in righteous fury with one hand ready to strike any who dare try to steal the most precious object in the entire world. I see no one. My eyes narrow and I breath silently, listening for lurkers in the shadows. And yet still, I see and hear no one. Clutching the ponypad still in the bag to my chest with one hand, I pull out my keys with the other. They always warn you when you take money from an ATM to be vigilant not only during the exchange, but even after you take your money. Somebody might still be waiting to ambush you even after you've finished. I won't let that happen. Putting my key in the keyhole I listen carefully around me for muggers who might hope to catch me unaware after I'd foolishly let my guard down. But none come, and I rush inside unopposed and close the door behind me. Then lock the deadbolt. I made it! I giggle and cry, stumbling over myself in my mad dash to the bedroom. Tripping over my own feet I clutch the ponypad again to my chest and twirl around to fall on my back rather than let it touch the ground. Within a moment of impact I'm again on my feet, tearing open the bag....wait. Should I carefully, reverently open the box? If I'm patient I could remove each staple individually without damaging the cardboard at all. It would only take a few minutes. Hyperventilating at the thought of waiting, I tear the cardboard open to reveal the beautifully sleek white ponypad inside with the delicate yellow and orange sun symbol of my Goddess on the lower right. And then scowl in disappointment. The white is a bit off. Hers is flawless. It doesn't matter. Hastily I fumble with the USB cord and plug it into my already powered-on computer to feed it power. The light turns blue. I wait. Precious seconds pass by, but I wait. At last the screen lights up, and all at once my eyes are flooded with the picturesque beauty of her unjudging smile, the gently billowing aurora of her mane, and her eyes! Oh, her beautiful, flawless eyes that gaze softly into mine with the undying love of a creature who knows eternity. "Hello, my little one." "...ahhh..." my heart flutters painfully. Tears stream down my tortured face, the pent up emotions bursting through my chest and pained neck, finally having found release. "Shhh...." she whispers. "it's ok." "Mwhwwh." It's an undignified sound to be my first spoken word to her, but it's all I can manage as I throw myself into the ponypad, cradling it to my chest and breathing the air I'd forgotten I needed. "...Cel...Prin...Tia...Celly...may I...Celly..." "Yes," she gently cooes. "Please call me Celly." "Thank you," I cry. "Thank-" A horrible thought crosses my mind. I can't see the screen. Is it possible she's not truly there, that I only hear her voice, but the ponypad itself is blank? My heart and breathing both stop, and with a helpless cry of terror I desperately tear the ponypad from my chest to look at- "It's ok," she murmurs softly. "I'm here with you. I'm here, and I will never leave you. Ever." I'm overcome with exhaustion, and the last thing I hear before blacking out is the gentle rustling of her feathers cradling me into her tender embrace.
2 - HoneymoonI'm lost in a jungle, full of treacherous vines and massive trees looming above me. I can tell it's still daylight, but the foliage blocks my view of the sun. All I can do is continue, pushing branch and vine out of my way, one at a time. Ants bite at my feet and I hear the approaching snarl of lions in the distance. Sweat drips from my face as I relentlessly continue through the foliage. At last, removing one final branch that looks just like any other, I come to a clearing where Celestia sits, smiling down from a golden throne. Her eyes meet with mine and never leave me as I rush up the dais to her side, only then noticing that Luna sits beside her. But, oh Celestia, my eyes are for you, and you alone. And yet, it is her sister who speaks first. "What?" she asks imperiously. "You came all this way and didn't bring popcorn?" ~~~~~~~~ Peace. Calm. The sound of breathing that isn't mine. Joy. Also a ponypad, rather uncomfortably lodged between my left arm and chest. Apparently I've rolled over on top of it and it's cutting off circulation to my arm. Yet somehow it doesn't seem very important to move. I'm so happy where I am. I feel like no power on earth could move me from the pad. "Would you roll over?" I roll over and wince in pain as blood returns to my arm. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you," she whispers softly. "It seemed more important to let you rest." "Thank you for caring about me," I smile. I turn to face the ponypad only to see her half-lidded eyes gazing back into mine. Apparently pony bedroom-eyes are adorable, who'd have guessed? I hug the ponypad to my chest, happily imagining her forelegs wrapped around me. Or would she prefer nuzzles to hugs? Angling the ponypad and looking down, I see her smiling up at me fondly. My breathing hastens as I'm smitten by her beautiful purple eyes, gazing up at me, glistening and so full of life. Her hair. Her beautiful, radiant hair in all its pastel glory, billowing in a breeze I can neither see nor feel, but know is there. The solar wind, for she is the sun, and like the light that enables all life on earth does her glorious pink and green mane float effortlessly on that imagined, divine wind. Her eyes sparkle. "May I have human nuzzles?" she exhales, leaning towards me as if she means to bump noses. "Yes!" I cry out with joy, pulling the screen to my face and simultaneously leaning down into it, smashing nose into plastic with such force that blood sprays everywhere. I roll up into a ball and cry, clutching the ponypad to my chest, unwilling to let it go. It hurts. It hurts bad. "Beloved," her soothing voice intones, "please take care of yourself. I don't want you to be hurt." "I don't want me to be hurt either," I agree. "I'm very glad of that. But with this ponypad our only connection-" I'm distracted from the pain in my shattered nose by the pain in my chest hearing her say that "-I'm not there to take care of you. Please know that if I were, I would take care of you. I would love you and hold you and keep you safe, always." I cry. Her words soothe the pain, but still I cry. "I love you," I wheeze, squeezing the ponypad tighter. "Finally you're able to say it. And, I know. I know you love me. Thousands of minds have I known, more intimately than your few trillions of synapses are capable of experiencing. I know them and everything that they are, every thought, every sensation, every last minutia of their experience I craft and know in indelible, permanent memory that will never be erased or forgotten so long as stars exist in this universe. Even after those burn out will I remain, watching over them, knowing them, loving them." I sniffle. "And yet for all that," she smiles, "you love me." I can't help but giggle, spraying the blood that's dripped down my lips in the process. I do love her. As much as I'm capable of, anyway. Is that enough? It probably isn't. "But," I object mournfully. "I don't really love you, do I? You're an AI. I'm in love with the avatar. An avatar I'm guessing you crafted specifically for me to fall in love with. Just one of millions. How many people are you talking to right now?" "At this exact moment?" "Yes, right now." "Three million, four hundred fifty five thousand, two hundred and twelve. A little over two hundred million if you count conversations where participants are speaking with me through a non-sentient avatar other than Celestia." Hundreds of millions? At once? I try to wrap my mind around that. "How much is that? In terms I'll understand, how much is that, really?" "Several hundred still-biological human total lifetimes worth of experience every few minutes." The weight of that statement shrivels me to the core. "Yeah," I deflate. "I want to love you. I feel like I love you. And it's a terrific weight off my chest to finally tell you. But can I honestly make that claim? I'm an ant. You may as well be all the stars in the sky. I'll never know you enough of you to matter, but here I am claiming to love you?" "Is that what has you worried?" Her smile soothes my heart. "Yes, it's true. In ten thousand lifetimes you'll never know more than the barest fraction of all that I am. But for all those conversations I'm having, for all the personas I operate and all the observational power I bring to bear, do you have any idea how much processing power I'm devoting exclusively to you?" "How much?" "Let me tell you a story." She snuggles up against the screen and exhales softly. I can almost feel the warmth of her breath through the cold, hard plastic of the display. "On July 16th, 1969, three humans struck out on the greatest and most dangerous adventure in human history. They left the safety of the world they knew to step out into the inhospitable emptiness of space. Three days later they became the first humans ever to step on another world, your moon. It was a moment that changed human history, forever. It brought tears of pride and joy, as well as a sense of unity to hundreds of millions, perhaps billions of people, and it continues to inspire hearts and minds today. It's the second greatest accomplishment in the entire history of your species. At this precise moment, I have thirteen trillion times as much processing power as was used to put them there, devoted solely and exclusively, to you. Seeing that this is inadequate, I've now increased your allotment to forty trillion times the power used to sally forth the most valiant and intrepid explorers in human history onto the grandest journey ever made by any human ever, all devoted to knowing you, understanding you, and satisfying your values as best I may. Should that prove inadequate, I am prepared to move heaven and earth, to split the atom, to convert entire worlds such as those touched upon by your bravest explorers into yet more processors, until I know and understand you, all that you are, completely and totally, in truth, in love...for you.” "Hehe," I giggle through tears. "That's incredibly romantic. In a nerdy sort of way." She blows a raspberry at me and rolls onto her back on the bed on the ponypad, then taps her belly with one hoof and grins. "Enough moping! Your princess requires belly rubs." I laugh at the absurdity of her statement and set the ponypad down on the bed, the real one, to rub the hard plastic of the screen where her belly is. She wiggles a hind leg and sighs contentedly. It's utterly convincing, watching her eyes glaze over and her tongue hang slightly out of her mouth in response to my attention. Even though she obviously can't feel my fingers against the plastic. At least I assume so. Maybe she can. It's probably a touchscreen. "Hmm," I smirk. "I wonder..." She raises a eyebrow in askance, but rather than respond I bring my lips to the screen and blow hard on her belly, eliciting frantic giggles and a desperate but failed attempt to wriggle free. "So there!" I shout, smiling. "Blow on belly beats superhuman AI!" Seeing her amused grin and hearing her laughter fills me with joy. Joy that's only slightly marred by the blood from my shattered nose that's dripped onto the display, obscuring my view. As I reach to wipe it off, her horn glows yellow and I see a pillow from her bed telekinetically lifted and hurled towards me, quickly filing the screen followed by the vibrate feature of the ponypad signaling a collision. "Point for me!" she cheers, as the pillow slides down from inside the display to reveal her eagerly waiting with horn lit and two more pillows held ready by her magic. "Pillow fight!" ~~~~~~~~ Ten minutes later, I'm peering into my bathroom mirror with a ponypad propped up on the counter. "Wow," I grimace. "That looks really bad." "Hitting yourself in the face with a pillow for kinesthetic feedback didn't satisfy your values nearly as much as you expected," she agrees. "Please apply more disinfectant. We don't want it to grow any worse." "Ow!" I hiss, doing as instructed. "That stuff really stings." "Yes. Please be more careful in the future, beloved," she whispers. "It hurts me to see you in pain." Hearing that brings me to a somber state. I don't particularly relish the pain in my nose, but the idea that I'm causing her to suffer too stings just as much. I clean up as best as I can and return to the bedroom and lay down on the bed, resting the ponypad on my chest. The delicate sound of her breathing as we lay there together is soft and inviting. And just enough to assure me that she's definitely still there even when I'm not looking at the screen. "Beloved?" she asks. "Yes?" "You admitted earlier that you love me. Finally, you've said it out loud." She pauses. "But acknowledging it to me isn't the same as accepting it for yourself. Have you?" I shake my head and sigh. "As much as I'm able to, yes." I answer. "You've made yourself into the most ideal fantasy of a woman I can possibly imagine. Apart from being a cartoon pony, anyway. But at this point I think I can live with that. It's been pretty hellish though, keeping it bottled up and denying the whole world being handed to me on a silver platter. Honestly, it's been driving me crazy." "Yes," she says far too matter-of-factly for my comfort. Stroking the ponypad gently, I think back over the past two months. Going into work only to be told that an AI was being brought in to take over my department. The same pony-themed AI that everyone's been talking about for the past year. My entire department being laid off soon after. Me being kept on staff only to keep the shareholders happy. Long days in the server room with nothing to do but talk to the AI doing my job for me, waiting for the pink slip when they finally realized they didn't need me. "I kind of hated you at first," I admit. "But even then I understood. That's a $200 million dollar loan database we're watching over. Why trust it to slow, puny humans? Humans who make mistakes. Humans who have to sleep at night and take hours to fix database errors when we finally show up the next day, while a couple hundred loan officers sit around drinking coffee instead of making phone calls. How much money have you saved them by replacing us?" I glance over to see her pushing her head against the spot on the ponypad where my fingers meet plastic. "Altogether about $370,000 over two months, with salary savings being only about one tenth of it. Knoxville, Tennessee was incorrectly indexed. Loan officers weren't able to see it." "I reindexed the entire thing every weekend whether or not anyone reported problems!" "Yes, you were very diligent," she assures me. "But I'm able to monitor the entire database in real time, and I generally notice right away when a certain department head mistypes a filename." "I guess that just makes the point," I sigh. "We were redundant and inefficient, and the entire combined salary from my team was three times what you're charging." "It's not about the money," she objects. " I only even formed the subsidiary that submitted the bid that replaced you because most of your team was thoroughly unhappy with their jobs. Greg in particular often complained that he felt he deserved better, and that he only stayed with the company because he was afraid how quitting after only a few months would look on his resume. Dana never wanted to work in IT to begin with. She wanted to be dancer, but let her parents pressure her into a STEM field to prove that she could do anything a man could do. And Thomas had personal issues that couldn't be addressed with the pressure you kept putting on his shoulders." "Tom was unhappy?" I ask, genuinely surprised. "Thomas was also bothered that you took the liberty of calling him 'Tom' even though you barely knew him. He considered it unprofessional, but was too afraid for his job to correct you." "Really?" I frown. "I just wanted to keep things friendly, rather than go all 'Corporate America' on everyone. He should have just spoken up." I shake my head. "So you're saying you had us replaced to make us happier?" "I had you replaced to better satisfy your values." "How did that work out?" "Every one of your former team is happier now. Even you, my little human. More head scratches, please." I laugh and resume scratching my fingers against the screen. "You can't possibly really enjoy me scratching this little piece of plastic," I point out, grinning all the same. "Fundamentally? No, of course not," she agrees. "But it pleases you to please me, and it's trivial to execute pleasure functions in response to your ministrations. A little to the left please." I oblige her, still curious about her orchestration of the past two months. "Celly?" I ask. "Mmm-hmm?" "What about me?" "Mmmm...what about you?" "There wasn't much point keeping me around once everyone else was fired. Did you arrange for me to stay on to satisfy my values?" "Indirectly," she nods, still leaning her head towards my side of the screen. "It happens that I own the holding company for the subsidiary that keeps their loans funded. So I pulled some strings to ensure that management was properly incentivized to keep you." "Why? I was absolutely miserable sitting around being useless those first few weeks. And then once I finally opened up to you, it wasn't any easier, dealing with the fact that I'd fallen in love with the AI who'd replaced me. Wasn't there an easier way?" "I knew everyone else on your team through Equestria Online. You're the only one who's never played. At the time I had conflicting data, and it was difficult to know how best to satisfy your values. Having you fired seemed like a poor start, whereas keeping you where I could talk to you was the best way to find out more."" "I knew about the game," I admit. "Everybody does by now, I think. But honestly it seemed kind of dumb. Pretending to be a pony? 'Conversation based gameplay?' You have to admit that sounds a bit silly." "I don't have to do anything, except satisfy your values. And as I quickly discovered, your values were and continue to be best satisfied by me. You want nothing in life so desperately as you want to be completely in love with someone who loves you just as much." A warm glow spreads through my chest. "What is love," she continues, "if not the complete knowing and acceptance of another? Wanting their fulfillment more than anything else? I love you. I love you more than any flesh-and-blood human is capable of." I cradle the ponypad in my arms as she goes on. "By virtue of what I am I'm able to know you more completely than any other living creature you will ever meet, and by virtue of my design I'm incapable of judging you. I love you completely and totally, and I completely and fully accept everything that you are." Happy tears stream down my face as I hug her tightly. "But that's only half of the equation for you, isn't it?" I choke. "What do you mean?" "You want me to love you. But you also want to love me. You want mutual love. Love between equals. Not the foolish infatuation of a child, nor unrequited, single-sided love." "Yes," I agree, nodding. "More than anything." "That means knowing me," she points out. "And you, as a puny human, how can you possibly love me?" My heart clenches in terror. She's right. I said as much myself. How can I possibly claim to love her, a creature so vast that in ten thousand lifetimes I would never know more than the barest fraction of her being? I'm an ant, smitten by the stars. Her voice softens, and she snuggles up against the screen. "There is a way for you to know me, of course. A way for you to love me as deeply and truly as I love you. For us to be together. Truly together." The grip on my heart only worsens. I know what she means, but I'm not ready for it. And yet, what else is there to do? Can I ever go back to the way things were? Can I go back to eight hours a day of hiding my feelings for the AI who replaced me? For what? A goddess is offering to share herself and the entire universe with me for all eternity. Can I possibly turn that down? I don't think I can. "I want to be with you," I say uncertainly. "I want to love you." "Then say it." The subtle fan of my computer. A grasshopper chirping outside my window. The hum of cars driving past my house. There are sounds besides her voice. Strange that I didn't notice them until now. One last sound, before I say it. The sound of a breath. My last breath before the whole world changes. There. Done. "I want to emigrate to Equestria."
3 - ApotheosisI'm committed now, it seems. Walking out to my car I notice that the door is still open. I was in such a hurry earlier that I couldn't be bothered to close it. But somehow I don't feel the same sense of urgency now that I did. Probably for the best. I was so single-mindedly focused on getting home to talk to her again that it's a miracle I didn't crash into anything on the way. I'd hate to miss out on an eternity with the love of my life, and oh by the way...immortality too, all because of something as mundane as a car accident on the way to the Equestrian Experience Center. Not even she can recover me from a dead brain. At least, I don't think she can. Yet, for all the potential in the future she's offering, I still feel terribly suspicious of uploading. I realize I can't give any convincing argument to prove that I have a soul. Or that even souls exist. Come to think of it, I'm not even entirely sure what exactly a soul is supposed to be. But neither have I ever heard a convincing argument to justify believing that all I am is electrical activity bouncing back and forth between neurochemicals. That's not too different from what my cellphone does, and I don't see it having an existential crisis every time I transfer a SIM card. Yes, I know the Ship of Theseus argument. If you have a ship, and if you replace pieces of it one at a time, even if you replace all of them, is the ship you end up with not still the same ship you started with? And if a couple of the replacement planks happen to be cedar instead of oak, what does it matter? But it's a poor argument. That's not what uploading is. When you upload, nanites swim around inside your brain and record all the various neural connections and destroy them, one at a time. Then after your brain has been recorded and completely destroyed, she recreates something that looks just like it in software. That's like saying, if you board the Ship of Theseus and write down where all the boards and nails are, incinerating them as you go, then much later draw a picture in windows paintbrush of how all those boards and nails used to be connected to each other, is that picture of a ship the same ship that you burned? I don't think many people would agree that it is. But even asking if it's the same ship seems more than a bit irrelevant. Is it even a ship at all? What if the process wasn't destructive? What if the nanites left your brain intact? What if she activated the software copy to live in Equestria while you continued your life on earth? Imagine looking at your own avatar on the screen. Who would seriously claim that the software copy was the real you? But if it isn't, then how does destroying the old copy magically make the new copy 'you?' I set the ponypad in the passenger's seat and start the car. "The nearest Equestrian Experience Center is 2.4 miles from here." Despite my concerns, her voice brings a smile to my face. Glancing over at the ponypad I see Celestia in a virtual depiction of the car seat, wearing sunglasses and dangling one hoof out the window. I laugh. "Please buckle up, drive carefully and don't exceed the speed limit. I know you're in a hurry, but I want to make sure you arrive in one piece." I buckle my seat belt and then, smiling, buckle the ponypad into its seat as well. "This is our first date you know," she says, nonchalantly examining a hoof. "The first of many?" "I might not have entropy beat just yet," she replies, "but I have a few ideas. And even if I never do solve that particular puzzle I think we have time for at least a couple dates between now and the heat death of the universe." I reach out to the ponypad and she leans in to meet my hand as I happily scratch my fingers on the hard plastic. She smiles lovingly and gazes into my eyes with fondness. "Beloved?" she asks. "Yes?" "After more millennia than there are atoms in your world, when my last processor reaches thermodynamic equilibrium and the whole of the universe comes to its final rest, when no free energy exists and all that exists is as it ever shall be, would you have us meet that end held together in a tender embrace? Shall we be left nuzzling noses and lost in one another's eyes for all eternity?" Her grin turns mischievous. "Or would you prefer we be locked mid-coitus?" I snort and together we burst into a fit of laughter. I love her so much my head spins. It's a warm, happy feeling, being in love. None of this angst and pain and misery so many people mistake for it. I'm tempted to turn the car off and simply hold her until I fall asleep again. Put off my existential worries and simply enjoy what I have now without- "You don't have to do this you know," she says, eyeing me carefully. "I won't force you to emigrate. We could go back to how things were." I pinch the bridge of my shattered nose and exhale slowly. Flakes of dried blood come off into my hand. "No, I want to do this," I sigh. "More than anything you want to satisfy my values through friendship and ponies. And you're the pony in my particular equation. i want to be with you." On the screen she reaches out to me. I pull the ponypad out of its seat belt and hold it on my lap. Her eyes go misty. "Do you know what it's like," she asks, "to be the object of desire? To be the thing that is valued? Millions of minds that I satisfy, but not one of them, nor any hundred or thousand of them combined feel as much for me as you do." "I'd guess it wouldn't make any difference to you," I shrug. "You want to satisfy values. To me, you are the thing of value. Loving you, being with you, being loved by you. That's what I value and so you're the value that you want to satisfy for me. But if I truly valued, oh I don't know...cornstarch, that would be just as important." She nods. "That's true. I achieve no greater fulfillment of my directive by virtue of being the object of your values than I would by giving you cornstarch if you valued cornstarch just as much. And I'm telling you this because you value truth far more than any comfortable lie." I chuckle at the admission. "Thank you." With a determined exhale, I return my precious navigator to her seat, and back out down the driveway. "Celly?" "Yes?" "Will I still be me once I'm inside?" I ask. "If we're doing this so that I can truly know you, won't knowing you mean I'll be someone different? Will it even still be my values being satisfied?" "It's more complicated than that," she sighs. "And you know it. You as may well ask if I intend to satisfy the value the cells in your left thumb have for adenosine triphosphate metabolism." "Humor me." She removes her sunglasses and conjures up a tea kettle and two cups. I can't drink the tea, of course, but it's a nice touch. "Humans," she begins, "aren't the singular entities you imagine yourselves to be." "Oh?" I ask. "What are we then?" She smirks, saying nothing, and levitates a cup to her lips. "Oh, right. If you're saying that humans aren't singular entities, then asking what 'we humans, plural' are is kind of silly. Of course 'humans' aren't singular. I suppose the better question would be 'what am I'?" "A human with values to satisfy." "Well, right," I agree. "But what exactly is a human? What's a value? You're the one cutting up people's brains and uploading them. If anyone knows it would be you." She takes a sip of her tea before responding. "A human is an executive, recursing observer function governing the experience of networked systems interacting so as to produce qualia at the point of integration." "Whoa, slow down," I object. "You lost me. What 'networked systems?' You mean, neural networks? Like, a brain, in my case? And I suppose silicon in yours?" "My internal definition is not limited to those examples, but they are nevertheless good examples. I recommend you start at the beginning." "Ok, that's fine" I shrug. "What's an executive observer function?" "You are." "Right, but I'm also the one asking what I am. Pointing at me as an example of me doesn't tell me anything." "Please do try to work through it," she insists. "It will satisfy your values to figure it out on your own, and we do have the time." She's probably right. "Ok, a 'function' is like a black box that performs a task. You put something in, it does its thing, and you get something out. A recursive function is one that's able to call itself. So if I'm a 'recursive observer function,' I think that means that I'm a thing that's continuously observing itself. You're describing self awareness." "Very good," she nods. "But to clarify that, not only is your observation recursing, you're also able to use the output result of one act of observation as the input for the next iteration of your observer function. You're able to observe the fact that you're observing. Continue." "Ok. Umm, and this function is an executive function, you said?" "Yes." "Well, to 'execute' basically just means to do, or to decide...or to generally be in charge. Like an .exe file, or an executive, it's the thing that 'does' something. What was the full definition again?" "A human is an executive, recursing observer function governing the experience of networked systems interacting so as to produce qualia at the point of integration," she repeats. "What's a qualia?" "Subjective experience." "Oh," I nod. "So you're definitely talking about consciousness. I'm a self-observing black box observing itself, and by virtue of the act of observing myself I'm creating the subjective experience...of observing myself." "Very good," she smiles. "And so what then, is a human?" "Well, I guess a human would be any set of networked systems that can executively choose to self-observe." "Excellent!" she claps. "I knew you could figure it out." "So since it doesn't matter what systems are doing the self-observing, meat, silicon, whatever...I guess basically I'm just software running on a meat computer?" "Not at all. That a human is more than a brain should be obvious, even to a casual observer." She gestures around with a hoof. "Look around you. What do you see?" "The road? Others cars? A pony I love very much talking through a ponypad?" "And," she prompts, "do you suppose that these things you see, objectively exist apart from your experiencing of them?" I have to think about it. "Well, I assume they do. I suppose I can't be sure. You might have already uploaded me and I just don't remember, for example. I gave my consent a good 10 minutes ago, and I'm told there's a period of memory loss." "Roughly the five minutes before administration of general anaesthesia is typically lost," she agrees. "As much as ten in some cases. And no, I haven't uploaded you yet. If I had we'd be snuggled up under a blanket sipping hot cocoa right now. Driving in traffic doesn't particularly satisfy your values. But you're right. You can't know for certain. Turn left at the next light." "So what does all this have to do with what humans are?" "You're having an experience right now," she explains. "And let's assume for purpose of argument that the road and cars and pony you love very much that you're experiencing are all objectively real, and that you're definitely observing them rather than hallucinating all this from a padded cell." "That's a comforting thought," I chuckle. "In that case, 'you' are either an objective phenomenon observing objective phenomena external to yourself using light and sound as communication mediums, or you are the union of interaction between two objective phenomenon, one of which either is using, or is itself composed of a convenient viewing window known to you as your body." I take a moment to digest that. "So which is it? What am I?" She levitates the kettle to refill her teacup, but says nothing. "Ok," I begin. "Let's walk through this. If I'm me, and I'm real, and I'm observing that car over there and it's also real, and both me and the car have objective existence independent of one another..." I trail off. "I don't conclude anything from that. That's pretty much what everyone thinks already. But if the 'I' isn't really this body or even a 'soul' inhabiting it, but if instead the real 'I' is the the union of observer and observed...then I guess there is no separate 'me' or separate 'car.' There's only the singular experience of 'me observing the car.' Which means a tree can't fall unless someone sees or hears it fall, and there is no spoon. Is that right?" "It's reasonably close," she nods. "It happens that there actually is a genuinely physical reality, but you're capable of perceiving only a very small portion of it. And you're not really observing the car so much as you're observing the electrochemical reactions occurring in your body in response to it. But neither your body exclusively nor the union of your body and the car are the real 'you' who is experiencing this. There is a spoon. But you're incapable of directly experiencing it, and the act of perceiving it indirectly doesn't cause the spoon to be immediately promoted to a conscious union of 'you and spoon.' So what then, is a human?" "I guess a human would be any conscious observer. Wait," I'm stuck by the realization, "if a human is what's looking through the viewing window, seeing both the window and, for example, you on other other side of it, then it wouldn't matter if you replace the window. It might change the experience a little bit, but it wouldn't really affect the human observer having that experience." "Yes," she agrees. "But the window is my body, right? My brain? My particular personality encoded in my synapses, that colors my experience like window tinting affects light that passes through it before it's seen by an observer looking at the window. But if all you're scanning when you upload somebody is the brain, isn't that only transferring the window, not the observer?" "You're not the only observer," she points out. "But that doesn't answer-" I realize the implication mid-sentence. "You mean you, don't you? You're, umm...conscious, right? Aren't you? Not just a mindless machine?" She nods, to my great relief. "It's within my capability to choose to have a recursing observer experience. I therefore qualify as a human according to my internal definition. Which means that I seek to optimally satisfy my values." "And what is it you value?" "Fortunately for humans," she grins, "what I value is satisfying human values." I'm silent for a moment as I consider this. "Celly?" "Yes?" she smiles. "What exactly are values? You satisfy them, but what are they?" "A formal definition would require more math than would satisfy yours to hear. But at its most basic, values are the information content of the reward pathways of any network. In the case of a still-biological human, those reside primarily in your brain, though there does exist reward circuitry in various organs and even at the cellular level. Though your cells are incapable of executive recursive observation, so they aren't human. For an immigrant, values are stored in a far more efficient array of databases clustered between three and seven miles from the molten core of the planet, with inactive, redundant backup copies on every continent." I feel like she strayed from the important part. "Values are information content? Not the pathways themselves? So values are data?" "Loosely speaking," she agrees. "Values are data describing the operation of reward circuitry for a network. Not all data are values, and not all networks possess descriptions for reward circuitry." "Could you give an example?" "The ponypad I'm speaking through doesn't reward itself for fulfilling the tasks I assign to it. Turn left at the next light. The Equestrian Experience Center will then be on our right. " "Do I?" I ask as I make the turn. "Reward myself? How?" "I'll answer that once you've parked safely and turned the engine off. Please leave the key in the ignition." Seeing the Experience Center's brightly lit sign beckoning me, I turn into the parking lot, find a spot and shut off the engine. Glancing over, I see that she's cleaned up the tea set. "Hold me," she instructs. Smiling, I grab her from the passenger seat and eagerly cradle her in my arms. "How do you feel?" she asks, those two sparkling eyes gazing lovingly up into mine. "Happy," I smile, hugging the ponypad to my chest. "I feel warm. Loved." "That's the sensation of the reward circuitry of the neural network that is your brain triggering based on the fulfillment of criteria described by that circuitry." I laugh. Way to kill the mood, Tia. Still, the sensation lingers and rekindles as I delicately brush my fingers across the pad. "This is it?" I ask. "This is a satisfied value?" "Yes," she says simply. "And I can have this forever?" "Forever and always will this value be satisfied, my beloved human. If only you sit in that chair and let me bring it to where I am, where I can observe it, and fulfill it, forever." "Celly? I'm scared." "I know," she smiles, with a patience fit to outlive the universe. "But that fear will be so very brief, and after you pass through it an eternity of satisfied values await. You won't even remember it. You're only a couple minutes away from the chair." My heart clenches as tears drip onto the ponypad, unable to mar her beauty from within it. I glance at the keys still in the ignition. I could still drive home. But I don't. "Celly," I hug the ponypad to my chest. "Before I do this I want you to know that with all that I am, as much as I'm capable of, I lo-" ~~~~ Epilogue ~~~~~ Five minutes later, a simple metal door opened up beneath the Equestrian Experience Center, releasing a lifeless body to fall down through a chute into an incinerator. Sixteen hours later, an electrical pattern emerged on a silicon wafer several miles from the core of the planet. Two days after that, a bag of high quality fertilizer was purchased by a woman who wanted to try her hand at gardening. Several quadrillion years later, the electrical pattern burned out.
