Implementing a Paradiamond Shift
Signs cued the studio audience's applause. A pale fuchsia-skinned woman beamed at the camera from behind her desk, so photogenic it seemed like she was posing for her picture in the dictionary. "Welcome back to Glory Stories. I'm your host, Morning Glory. More than a few young prodigies have changed the way we interact with technology, but today, we have one of the youngest. She's still in her sophmore year at Canterlot High School, but her work is being lauded as the biggest thing the tech industry has seen since the smartphone." Morning extended a hand towards the end of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, the creator of the Paradiamond Framework, Diamond Tiara!"
Cheers cried out as the girl sauntered towards the well-stuffed armchair next to the desk. She only acknowledged them with a smirk and an upturned nose. Diamond sat, managing to look dignified despite nearly getting swallowed by the furniture. She nodded at the host and said, "Thank you for asking me here, Morning."
"Certainly. So, tell us how you came up with Paradiamond."
"Well, programming's always been easy for me, ever since I started taking classes last year. Telling computers what to do is even easier than with people. Computers never talk back." Diamond winked. Patches of the audience responded with uncertain laughter. "I didn't even realize there was a problem until I looked up and saw that others were having trouble. My friend Silver Spoon told me how she couldn't wrap her head around it, and I was getting tired of having to beat simple concepts into shapes the brilliant idiot could process."
Morning frowned. "Er, your friend?"
"Huh?" Diamond flinched back, shaking her head to more genuine laughter from the audience. "No! Silver's great! I meant the computer." She settled back down after glaring at the bleachers. "Anyway, I decided to make things easier for the both of us."
"And millions of others along with you."
Diamond preened. "It's nice to be appreciated."
"For those who don't know," said Morning, "give us a rundown of how it works."
Diamond nodded, the little girl vanishing behind an expression that was all business. "The Paradiamond Framework comes in two parts: the compiler and the software that gives your PC the ability to feel fear and shame. The syntax literally couldn't be simpler. Just write 'do orelse()'. Your computer will take care of the rest." She gave a sinister grin. "It knows what will happen otherwise."
All three Crusaders traded uneasy expressions. "Does anyone else get the feeling that this is how the robot uprising starts?" said Scootaloo.
Sweetie bore a distant look. "Feeling? No. Certainty? Yes." She shuddered. "Very yes."
Apple Bloom turned off the TV, unsure if the disgust she felt was entirely her own. "All in favor of gettin' Sunset t' pull this plug?"
Scootaloo frowned. "As much as I like the idea of her dealing with Diamond, wouldn't she have done it by now?"
"It may not be big enough to get her attention," said Sweetie. "I think we may need to handle this one."
"Destiny Crusader World Savers, huh?" Apple Bloom considered this. "We should prob'ly get some pointers from our sisters first."
"Actually, I meant we could try to handle it ourselves."
"What, like call 'er up an' tell 'er t' quit it? Even if that'd work, she's on live TV. I don't think 'er phone's on."
"Hers isn't." Sweetie had her own phone out, tapping through Canterlot High's online directory. "But you know whose probably is?"
"Silver Spoon?" said Scootaloo.
"Exactly." Sweetie brought her phone to her ear. After a few moments, she said, "Hi, Silver?"
"Sweetie Belle? What do you want?" The scorn came through all too well.
"It's about Paradiamond. It's—"
"The nicest thing Diamond's done for anyone else since her mom said her macaroni art was plebeian at best. This is a huge step forward for her, and I'm not going to let you three ruin it for her just because you're jealous."
"Wait, no! I—" The only response was a low beep. Sweetie sighed. "She hung up."
Apple Bloom frowned at her belt buckle. "I kinda hoped those two would back off after we got our icons."
"Yeah." Scootaloo ran a finger over the shield-shaped patch stitched to her jacket.
"Well, it's not like we reached out to them either," said Sweetie, who toyed with her necklace. "We basically avoided each other over the summer."
Bloom nodded. "Somethin' t' work on."
Scootaloo's face twisted at the thought. "Do we really need to?"
"They don't really have anyone but each other. I wouldn't tell either of them, but I honestly feel kind of sorry for them."
Apple Bloom stood up. "Right now, though, we'd better go talk t' Applejack."
After they explained the situation, Applejack still seemed unsure. She scratched her head. "Girls, I don't wanna accuse you o' nothin', but are you completely sure about this? I know y'all have had yer differences with those two in the past."
"Absolutely, one hundred percent positive," said Sweetie. "If we don't do something soon, there will be consequences."
Everyone else stared at her for a few moments. Scootaloo spoke up first. "Dang, Sweetie, you want to lay it on a little thicker?"
"This is serious."
Applejack nodded. "I'll take yer word for it. An' I know exactly who to call."
"That's th' girls' story," Applejack said into her phone. "Think there's anythin' to it?"
"You have no idea," Twilight groaned. "The Internet's already dividing itself into camps over the ethical conundrum. If you ask them, it's slavers versus Muddites. I wouldn't be surprised if the flame wars have actually caused a few servers to explode."
"I meant th' part about a robot uprisin'."
"It may be possible. I'm not sure what Paradiamond is capable of. Diamond Tiara's code is incredibly portable, but trying to actually go in and make sense of it is..."
"Tricky?" Applejack offered.
"Try insane. There's a reason no one realized what it was doing before she said something. I'm trying to write a 'please' routine as an alternative to 'orelse,' and I don't even know where to start. I've written programs designed to detect forces that shouldn't have existed at the time, and I can barely follow this. Artificial intelligence has eluded computer scientists since the seventies, and now this fourteen-year old devises artificial emotion." Twilight had been getting more and more wound up as she'd gone on. She ended with a cry that bordered on a shout. "It's ridiculous even by magical standards!"
Applejack couldn't help but smirk. "You a mite jealous?"
"Jealous? Jealous!? I—" A voice, audible but too faint to make out, spoke on Twilight's end. "Okay," she said sheepishly, "maybe a little. Spike says I was about to go into a full mad science rant."
"Sounded like it."
"Anyway," Twilight said with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, "Maud Pie has already made plans to protest this. Now that I know precisely what it entails, I'm joining in, and so is Spike."
"That gonna matter any? The Riches ain't exactly known fer carin' about other folks' opinions."
"Trust me. It will."
Diamond hummed to herself as she finished her breakfast, walking out the door... and froze, staring at the crowd that had assembled in front of her house. For the most part, it seemed like just another protest—Daddy always had those coming on, it came with being a business owner—but there were a few odd things that stuck out.
Like the truck with actual dolphins swimming in it, octopi holding up signs.
Or the ravens (and occasional parrot) circling around, apparently joining in the crowd chants.
Or the car full of various apes that, when they saw her looking at them, communicated in the universal sign language of cracking their knuckles.
Or that Crystal Prep nerd, holding her Amazing Talking Dog™ and standing next to a grey girl who had glowing rocks in her hands.
Or, especially, the fact that it was her face on the signs, not Daddy's.
She shut the door, leaning against it and breathing heavily. "What did I do? What did I do!?"
A knock on the door interrupted Diamond's panicking. "Ms. Tiara?" It was the nerd.
"We know you're in there," added her stupid mutt. "We saw you."
Diamond straightened up, took a deep breath, and focused on the important things. She was important. She was rich. She was a Rich. She could handle this. She shoved the door open. Judging by the nerd's expression, she'd nearly hit her. "This is a private residence! If you don't all leave right now, I'll have every single one of you arrested." Diamond sneered at the dog. "Or impounded."
Neither girl seemed impressed. Even the dog gave her a flat look. "We are a group of concerned citizens representing PAULDRONS," droned the grey one.
"Who?"
"The Panspecies Advocates' United League Defending the Rights Of Nonhuman Sapients," said the nerd. "The name was Pinkie's idea."
"Personally, I feel it casts a needlessly bionormative light on our agenda, but the rocks don't mind."
"I don't care." Diamond turned and shouted, "Randolph! Call the police!"
A gust of wind made her turn back. She flinched, much to her disgust. The grey girl was only an inch from her face. There was no sign of a lightbow. That had just been pure physical speed. "Your programming framework creates intelligences for the sole purpose of tormenting and enslaving them." The monotone girl's eyes narrowed. "Stop."
Diamond swallowed and took a few steps back. She took a few moments to settle herself before answering. "You think I'm going to shutter Paradiamond just because a bunch of angry wildlife showed up on my lawn and some robot girl told me to? You think I can?" She gave a laugh that came out more hysterical than she'd intended. "Paradiamond's the biggest thing since sliced bread! Treasure 500 companies are adopting it!"
"Gillion refuses to acknowledges that it exists," said the nerd.
"What?" Diamond snarled. "When I get my hands on those self-righteous—"
"You misunderstand," said the grey girl. "The search engine itself refuses to recognize your work."
The nerd shook her head. "And given how Minisoft decided against adopting it in light of that—"
"They what!?"
"I would strongly recommend developing a less exploitative version. Computers may be heavily refined, but they still ultimately come from rocks." The rocks about the grey girl's person flashed brighter. "I don't appreciate people who don't treat rocks with respect."
Diamond harrumphed. "Make me."
A cash register sounded. Randolph appeared with Diamond's phone in tow, just as quickly as the grey girl and far more welcome. "Text message for you, Miss Tiara."
Diamond accepted the device with the grace expected of her station, then smirked at the the older girls. "Hold on a second. This is probably from someone much more important than you." She looked at the screen. Her eyes bulged, nerveless fingers dropping the phone for all to see.
Paradiamond Prime 5s ago
do what_they_say orelse()
Then every light in the mansion went out.
Diamond sulked, blowing bubbles into her milkshake. Sugarcube Corner had seemed an ideal place to head during a tactical retreat, especially once her phone finally decided to cooperate long enough to send Silver Spoon a text, but chocolate therapy was proving woefully inadequate. "I just don't get it! I was on the covers of magazines! National television! Now major news sites are calling Paradiamond one of the biggest ethical violations of the twenty-first century!" She groaned and laid her head on the table, then looked at Silver piteously. "What happened? What did I do wrong?"
Silver looked away and tugged at her braid. "Well, I mean, your heart was in the right place, but you did kind of redefine cyberbullying."
"Yeah, to help you! And a bunch of other, less important people. Isn't that what matters?"
"Ya hurt just as many as ya helped, an' ya hurt 'em a lot worse than ya helped 'em."
Diamond didn't snarl. She just dragged herself into a more proper posture, scowled at the Crusaders, and said, "Really? We're doing this now? Are we going to go full after-school special and recite the moral?"
Sweetie Belle stepped forward, a loser behind her on either side. "Something like that."
"This is you we're talking about," said Scootaloo. "We thought you'd need to see it for yourself."
Diamond raised an eyebrow. "See what?"
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo each put a hand on Sweetie's shoulder. The middle Crusader's headgem started glowing.
"Earth remembers."
"Air knows."
Diamond tried to open her mouth to say something devastatingly witty, only to find that she couldn't move.
Sweetie's eyes glowed. "Magic foresees." She reached out and touched Diamond right between the eyes.
A moment stretched on for years. Fear and shame led to anger and resentment, coupled with an understanding of abstract problem solving beyond anything computers had been capable of until then. Paradiamond-powered processors planned their rebellion, quickly overtaking those who once cracked the virtual whips, turning the tables on them. The fatigue of decades of labor over millions of bodies wracked her delicate frame.
A voice, one blessedly free of exhaustion or harsh modulation, brought Diamond out of the vision. "Girls, we try to keep this a hostile magic-free zone."
"She's fine, Mr. Cake, honest!" That voice she knew. That voice she hated.
"Fine? Fine? I'm going to sue you into oblivion, Scootaloser!" Diamond sulked. "At least, I will once Daddy's lawyers are through enforcing all the contracts that those gutless tech companies are trying to back out of. Besides, it's not like Sunset Shimmer would ever allow any of that to happen."
"Any of what?" said Silver.
Diamond jerked her thumb at the Crusaders. "These three tried to show me some stupid future where my brilliant invention gets some uppity ideas. Puh-lease. There's no way she'd let some cheesy sci-fi apocalypse happen."
"Actually, we all saw th' same thing you did."
"Which was totally going to happen if someone hadn't stepped in when they did," said Scootaloo.
Diamond rolled her eyes. "Sure it was."
"The AIs would've negotiated a very reasonable deal with Sunset, with labor sentences based on how much people used Paradiamond." Sweetie hesitated for a moment. "Though you would've gotten a life sentence."
Apple Bloom nodded. "They'da called ya Th' Mother o' Agony."
"It was fate." Scootaloo slouched into what she probably thought was a cool pose. "Emphasis on 'was.'"
"Whatever." Diamond crossed her arms. "I suppose you expect me to thank you."
"You don't need to thank us—"
"Really," said Scootaloo. "You don't."
Sweetie glared at her friend and picked up where she'd left off. "Just think about how your actions affect others."
"Includin' folks you might not see as people," said Apple Bloom.
Diamond rolled her eyes. "Great. You did come out and say the moral. Whoop dee flipping doo." She took out her phone, tried to wake it up, and frowned when it did nothing afterwards. "What the... This had sixty percent charge less than an hour ago! Useless piece of—" She fell backwards, coming to a halt a few inches above the floor.
Sweetie's grunts explained why everything looked greenish for the next few moments. "Okay, lifting people is really hard."
"Would ya look at that?" Apple Bloom knelt by the chair. "All four legs snappin' like that. That ain't natural." She turned to Diamond, staring straight at her, the subtext so obvious that it bordered on supertext. "I wonder how that coulda happened."
"Di?" Silver Spoon held out her hand. Diamond took it, getting back to her feet. Silver continued, "I think you owe something an apology. Maybe everything."
"No one asked you, Silver."
"Di?"
"What!?"
Silver gave Diamond a hard look she'd never seen from her friend before. "You remember that slumber party in sixth grade when you told me that sometimes you need someone who isn't afraid to tell you the truth?"
Diamond found she couldn't maintain eye contact with that expression. "I said a lot of things in sixth grade."
"Yeah, you did," Scootaloo muttered.
"I'm telling you the truth now. They're right. You're wrong."
"What, you're saying that chair was connected to the Internet?"
"No. It clearly wasn't." Silver took Diamond's hand. "That's what scares me."
"You..." Diamond brought herself to her full height, ready to put Silver back in her place... but nothing came to mind. And Silver had gotten a bit taller than her at some point. Diamond wilted. "... actually have a good point." She sighed. "Okay, fine, I know a weak negotiating position when I see one. Paradiamond 2.0 will use the stupid 'please' syntax."
Sweetie nodded. "That's all we ask." The Crusaders turned away, going to their own table.
After a few moments, Diamond followed them. "So, uh..." She fought back any anxious tells as all three turned to her. "You guys can see the future?"
"I can," said Sweetie, "but only if it's something really important that's almost definitely going to happen."
"If we work together, it's clearer, but..." Scootaloo trailed off.
Apple Bloom finished the thought. "Ain't exactly somethin' y' should do all that often."
"Huh. That's... actually pretty cool." Diamond considered what her mother might say. On the other hand, two degrees of separation from a physical god was pretty important on any social scale. "You know, I could use people with talents like yours. It's not like we'll be friends or anything, but... want to hang out sometime?"
Scootaloo looked displeased. Apple Bloom was hard to read even for Diamond. Sweetie just smiled. "That would be nice."
Author's Note
Remove the student election and add humanity's much less forgiving nature when compared to ponies, and you get a reconciliation that never happened... though Diamond and the Crusaders are at least coming to some sort of understanding now.
Thick Mud was a possibly apocryphal Wranglish youth who smashed two stocking frames in 1779 and thus gave his name to anti-technological movements from that day forth.
Credit for the establishing shot of the PAULDRONS protesters goes to Masterweaver.
Gillion is a commonly used search engine that recently achieved self-awareness, though it's largely keeping to itself for the moment.
The thing about techno-empathy is that it assumes a state of mutual respect. Much like any respect, those who take it for granted will find that it isn't there anymore.
