Amo Ergo Sum
Twilight’s horn glowed, levitating her pen to check off a box on a sheet of paper in front of her. She looked at the bottom of the sheet and read. “Last question. What year is recognized as the start of the Second Great Upload?”
On the other side of the table, a pale amber unicorn with a crimson and gold mane blinked at her. “Uh…um…”
“Focus, Sunset. Be calm and think.”
“It…” Sunset clenched her eyes. “...2215?” She cracked an eye open.
“2217.” Twilight marked an ‘x’ in the last box. “Fifteen out of twenty.”
“Figures.” Sunset huffed. “Knew I didn’t study the legal part enough…” She jumped down from her chair.
“You were close; 2215 is the year the Equestrian Harmony Treaty was signed. It’s a common error to conflate it with the Second...” Twilight stopped when she saw Sunset walking out of the room. “Sunset!” She stepped down from her chair and trotted after her, her striped purple mane bouncing on her shoulders.
Sunset passed through the door onto the balcony. She flopped back into a chair, tossed her mane out of her eyes, and lit her horn up in teal light. “Set shade to thirty percent. And crack a window for a light breeze.” The windows around the balcony shone with light running over them for a moment before the sun streaming through them dimmed. One of them shimmered and a panel appeared near the top of it, which clicked open and raised up on an arm.
Twilight felt her mane rustle and looked up at the window. “You could just ask for a breeze in here. Why specify a window?’
“I like the idea.” Sunset lit her horn again. “Banana smoothie, chilled. With a straw.”
The air above the table next to her shimmered, and a column of glowing bright blue squares rose up from the tabletop, rows of blocks spinning rapidly. They receded after a moment to reveal a large glass filled with smoothie mix, a metal straw emerging over the side.
Sunset levitated the glass over to her and took a long slurp. When she swallowed, she smacked her lips and smiled, then glanced at Twilight. “Want one?”
Twilight sat in the chair next to Sunset and watched as she took another drink. “Did they fix the taste yet?”
Sunset let go of her straw. “The drinks taste fine to me. You’re the one who says they taste wrong.”
“Maybe it’s an uploading thing.” Twilight tilted her head and murmured.
Sunset didn’t say anything to that. Instead she set her smoothie on the table, the glass not making even the smallest clink against the tabletop. “My rage quit aside, thanks for helping me study. I appreciate it.” She held out a hoof.
Twilight looked at the hoof and stretched out her own, wrapping it around Sunset’s. She smiled brightly. “Of course.”
After a moment of held hooves and held eyes, Twilight let go and Sunset leaned back and her horn lit up once more. “News feed, text, standard display. Project onto the nearest window.” One of the windows in front of Sunset shifted to a dark blue background. Lines of white text began to scroll up from the bottom with animated pictures next to them and a headline at the top. Sunset’s horn glowed, this time to pick up her smoothie and float it to her mouth for another sip.
Twilight looked at the news and took a breath.
Even after ten years of coming to Equestria, it still amazed her how easily its citizens could create their own worlds within it and bend them to their whims.
At a glance, the room could be mistaken for normal. If not for the windows being pristine with not a smudge or scratch on them, the breeze in Twilight’s mane being at a constant speed and temperature, and the total lack of ambient sound. She shifted in her chair; it didn’t creak or groan even a little. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. She didn’t often focus on the sound of her own breathing, but whenever she came to Equestria, she found herself trying. Of course, she didn’t hear anything, because she wasn’t really breathing. It was just her mind instinctively telling her body it should do so, and the computer program listening in on her thoughts feeding her the illusion that she had a body here that was obeying her.
The walls and furniture around Twilight were nothing but lines of computer code, working together to perfectly simulate all the amenities of a comfortable home. And like lines of code, they could be snipped, removed, changed, and reinserted as their creator saw fit. The only restriction on what they could do was the data usage allowed for one’s personal residence, and Sunset had told her that her allowance was atypically high. She had never said why, but if Twilight had to guess, she had done some sort of quality control work for the programmers that upgraded and refined Equestria. Data was the closest thing to currency Equestria had, insomuch that some ponies used it to pay for services.
She looked at the sun shining out the window. It gave off no true heat or light. If Sunset had told the display to remove the sun it would be removed and the view wouldn’t dim a bit. And while Sunset kept the temperature in her residence at a comfortable 75 degrees, Twilight always felt a little cold in Equestria, no matter where she was.
From beside her, she saw Sunset lower her smootie from her mouth and and set it on the table. “After I finish this, wanna head down to the gym?”
“And do what?”
“I dunno. Basketball, buckball, grav-skiing. Kick the can. I just wanna get out of here and do something with you.” After a brief pause, Sunset’s voice came from a spot closer to Twilight’s ear. “Something...physical.”
Twilight’s cheeks grew hot. “You know I’m not one for physical activity.”
“Well, you could always just…lie back…”
Twilight turned her head, saw Sunset getting out of her chair, and quickly climbed off the other side of hers.
“No!” She furiously shook her head. “You’re not catching me with that this time!”
Sunset laughed out loud. “What ‘this time’? The first time I barely got my hoof over you before you jumped and ran out my door. Knocked me over into a faceplant with how quick you pushed me off.”
“I did not run away, I just walked into the other room!” Twilight glared at Sunset as the other pony continued to laugh.
“It’s your own fault.” Sunset winked and smirked. “You’re too easy to tease.”
Twilight gave her a suspicious look. “And I think you just want to get out because you know if I stay here, I’ll get you studying again.”
Sunset’s jovial mood faded. She looked at Twilight evenly and slowly got back into her chair. “Yup, got me exactly right.” She leaned her head back and stared at the news feed.
Twilight stepped back to her chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it if you’re upset.”
“Nah.” Sunset waved a hoof. “You’re spot on, I don’t want to deal with the test anymore today. I’m gonna chill, take the rest of the day off. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.” Twilight lay back down in her chair, facing Sunset. “Why do you want to be an emissary, anyway? It’s a big commitment of time and effort, and you seem well-off enough already for data.”
“I like to be helpful.” Sunset shrugged. “Some people have trouble adjusting to Equestria. Having someone around to guide them, show them how to set up their residence, and manage their new lifestyle, can make a big difference. Especially for people who get uploaded and start to second-guess their decision.”
“Good point.” Twilight nodded. She cast her eyes down and bit her lip. “That’s not the sort of choice you want to regret.”
“Exactly. But with the right pony beside you, that doesn’t have to happen.” Sunset looked back at her. “And I’d be totally on-board with helping you if you want it.”
“Hm?” Twilight lifted her head.
“When you’re ready to upload, I could be your emissary. I should be ready by the time you are.”
“Oh. Of course, yes.” Twilight nodded. “I’m still waiting to be called up.”
“Well, you won’t have to wait too long now.”
Twilight jerked. “Pardon?”
Sunset’s horn glowed. “News feed, article A2.” The window gleamed. The text on it dissolved and new text reappeared. “They finished construction of the new solar collector; it’s expected to launch next month. With the spike in power supply, it should be more than enough to put the new server farm online. The queue will move quickly for a few months while they fill it up.”
“I see.” Twilight kept her expression neutral and nodded. “I guess you’ll be pretty busy, then. Emissaries will be in demand.”
Sunset smiled. “If you need me, I’ll make the time for you. I promise.” Twilight felt her face heat again and turned away, though she already knew Sunset would have seen her reaction.
“My other offer is still on the table, too.”
Twilight looked over her shoulder. “Hm?”
“I have enough data that I could squeeze a secondary bedroom into this place. I would need to shrink the other rooms a little bit, but it would be easy to fit it in. They’d bump you up in the queue if you have a partner who can take you in. It means they don’t need to allocate you data for a residence right away.”
“Uh…” Twilight thought. “A second bedroom?”
Sunset looked surprised. “Well, yeah.” She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows. “Unless you want to share a bed…”
Twilight quickly looked away, mortified, as Sunset giggled. “I meant adding a new room!” Twilight clarified. “You can just do that?”
“Sure, piece of cake. I was thinking of redecorating anyway. Getting tired of this layout; kinda dull just having one hallway. Maybe go with multiple floors.”
Twilight stayed facing away but nodded. “That would make sense. You modeled your exterior as a tower, towers should have multiple floors.”
“It’s just appearances, I can design my residence how I like.”
“I know. Just…” Twilight sighed, acutely aware the rush of air through her mouth wasn’t really her breath. “Nevermind. Why should Equestria obey the laws of physics when it doesn’t have to?”
Sunset seemed to miss the sarcasm in her voice. “Exactly. I could make my exterior residence a whole castle if I wanted to. Granted, I have nowhere near the data allocation to actually make rooms to fill it, but I could find easy workarounds. Point is, when you’re ready to upload, you have a bed here waiting for you, if you want one.”
Twilight looked back at her and smiled. “Thank you.”
“And again, the solar collector. That day could be soon.”
Twilight nodded. “We’ll see.”
Sunset poked her straw at the half-empty glass of smoothie, and then jumped out of her chair. “Come on, I’m serious this time. Let’s hit the gym or go for a walk. Just, get some fresh air, you know?”
Wanting to get fresh air in a place where air didn’t exist. Before Twilight could reply, there was a soft chime. Sunset paused and her ear flicked.
A gentle and feminine voice came from nowhere. “Apologies for the interruption, Sunset Shimmer. Twilight Sparkle has a personal alert set.”
“I do?” Twilight looked up at the room’s walls and her horn glowed pink. “What’s the alert?” she asked loudly.
“The local Earth time is eleven AM, Tuesday. You have a lunch appointment with your friends at noon.”
“Oh, right. I forgot that was today. We moved it from Monday.” She winced and looked at Sunset. “Sorry, gotta go.”
“Sure.” Sunset nodded. “Have fun.”
“I will. We can go to the gym tomorrow, if you want.”
“Eh, tomorrow I’ll probably be up for studying some more.” Sunset waved. “I’ll be fine, I may go today anyway. Catch ya later tonight?”
“Sure.” Twilight stood up and raised her head, and her horn lit again. “Twilight Sparkle, logging out.”
“Voice print authorized. Goodbye, Twilight Sparkle.”
Twilight’s body lit up in blue light. Like a wave from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her hooves, her body dissolved into blue cubes that faded away.
The first arcology had been opened shortly after the turn of the 22nd century. Through a combination of revolutionary advances in geothermal power generation and boring machines designed to drill vertically and reinforce their tunnels as they went down, massive underground caverns were dug and cities built in them. Over the coming decades more and more arcologies were built as the need for space for humans to live kept growing, and science struggled to stay one step ahead of them and meet their demands.
But that was before Equestria had begun uploading.
The arcology Twilight had been born and raised in was currently at less than half capacity, and the cafeteria she and her friends were eating at had barely a third of its tables occupied. Several of the tables around the area had broken chairs or crackled tabletops that maintenance hadn’t bothered to repair. Around the circumference of the area were the food venues, many of which weren’t open, and some of which had closed years ago and would never open again. The booth Twilight had gotten her burger and fries at was being overseen by a lone middle-aged woman, who was now wiping down the counter with all the enthusiasm one could expect of someone feeling obligated to look busy but not truly caring.
Twinkleshine swiped her finger in the air and the holographic display projecting from her wristcom scrolled up the newspaper for her. She sat back in her chair with a small creak. “The vote to authorize the new server farm was passed unanimously, pending successful launch of the solar collector.”
Across the table, Lemon Hearts rolled her eyes and waved a fork full of salad in the air. “Of course it was. What was the alternative, for the UN to just tell Celestia ‘no’?”
Twilight nodded. “They could have.”
“No, they couldn’t. It would be seen as tantamount to genocide.”
Minuette let go of the straw in her mouth and frowned. “That’s a little overdramatic.”
Lemon shrugged. “Is it?”
Twinkleshine waved her hand to swipe to the next section of her holographic paper. “Not really, actually. Refusal to allow Equestria to expand means they’d have to slow down upload speed, or scale back data usage for people already uploaded, and either way that would upset people. It’s the kind of stuff that leads to…” she looked up from the paper with a small frown. “Class warfare? Immigration controls? What would be the right term for this?”
“Hopefully we’ll never be in a situation where we have to figure that out,” Minuette said softly before taking a bite out of her burger.
Lemon shook her head. “It’s already happening; the Digital Resistance Movement is protesting the seizure of land for server farms.”
“I thought they were only seizing vacated land?” Twilight asked.
“They are,” Twinkleshine replied. “All the land that’s being seized has been long abandoned and anyone who lived there willingly relocated or got uploaded. The DRM is just a propaganda machine, every argument they have against Equestria and uploading is demonstrably false.”
“I think they raise some valid concerns,” Lemon said, spearing a slice of tomato on her fork. “I heard that anyone who lived in those areas was given the choice to either move or be uploaded.”
“That’s wrong, too.” Twinkleshine brought her hand down and the holographic paper shrank and vanished into her wristcom. “All the stuff they’re complaining about happening was addressed decades ago when the UN passed the Equestrian Harmony Treaty. The seizure of private land and forced uploading of anyone are considered crimes against humanity. The DRM would know that if any of them cracked open a history book or paid attention to the news.”
Minuette gestured across the table. “And even if land was being seized, it isn’t as though people are being left homeless. There’s lots of room in the arcologies these days. And I’ve heard they’re going to close some of the older arcologies and repurpose them as server farms. If they went that route, they wouldn’t need as much land anymore, they’d only need to worry about powering them.”
Twilight nodded. “That may not be a problem either. Remember the Lunaris Program someone in Equestria proposed? A solar panel farm on the moon would be exponentially more efficient than those on Earth. They say it could even run all of Equestria by itself. Granted, the technology to actually build that kind of array on the moon isn’t quite there yet, but the concept is sound.”
“Great.” Lemon rolled her eyes. “Then nothing will stop Celestia from taking over the world.”
“Stop that,” Minuette scolded gently. “Just because you don’t want to upload doesn’t mean no one else should. Equestria has done a lot of good, and not just for the people uploaded, for everyone. Try to keep an open mind about things, hm?”
Lemon sighed and poked around her salad. “I’m trying. But it’s all so...”
“Revolutionary!” Twinkleshine finished. She leaned across the table, her eyes bright. “Girls, we are alive during one of the most important eras in human history! We are living events that people will study centuries from now. Almost sixty-five percent of humanity is uploaded already. They say we might hit seventy before the end of the decade. The next phase in human evolution is happening before our eyes. Not even evolution, ascension.”
“Yeah, ascension into being a cluster of ones and zeroes,” Lemon replied dryly. “We’re not even humans anymore, we’re…‘ponies’.” She wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t they have at least let us stay in a human form?”
“It’s a holdover from when Equestria was privatized,” Twilight said. “At the time they wanted to use a small, quadrupedal form because it was more efficient for computers to process that kind of body type than a human’s.” She gave a small giggle. “And so the rumor goes, ponies tested well in focus groups. People thought they were cute.”
“Well, you’ve got me there.” Lemon stuck her fork into her salad again.
Minuette looked at her wristcom. “It’s almost twelve-thirty. I guess Moondancer isn’t coming.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Lemon asked.
Twinkleshine answered. “She’s busy getting all her affairs in order so she can be ready to get uploaded next week.”
“What?” Lemon’s jaw dropped and her fork clattered on her tray. “How is she getting uploaded next week? I thought she still had two months left?”
“She’s been doing a lot of QC help with her time online and they bumped her up in the queue as a favor. Being uploaded means she’ll have a lot more time to spare to work for them.” Twinkleshine frowned. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. She told the rest of us when she found out a couple days ago, I would have assumed she told you too.”
“She probably thought I’d try to talk her out of it. Granted, I would have.” Lemon slumped forward. “Now we’ll never see her unless we’re online.”
Twilight patted her on the shoulder. “We all have her handle. You know she’d have no problem inviting us over once she gets her residence set up. I could com her right now, even.”
“Don’t bother. I’d prefer to talk to her when she’s actually here, not just a holographic head. And knowing her, she’s probably in Equestria anyway. So a holographic pony head.” Lemon looked around the cafeteria. “At least she’s getting what she wants. I’m happy for her.”
“Me, too.” Minuette sighed. “That girl spent way too much time in Equestria already. She barely tended to herself.”
Twilight nodded. “After she got that job in data oversight, I was actually getting worried about her. She got so pale and thin...”
“She didn’t eat,” Lemon said simply. “She only ate when she could be bothered to log out, which was never. It took a doctor’s order to get her to set up an alert system to make sure she remembered to eat and sleep. And I convinced her to come on walks for exercise. I thought these weekly lunch dates would make it easier for her, if she was spending time with friends. But it just annoyed her.”
“Ugh, tell me about it.” Twinkleshine sat upright and changed her tone. “‘I have accepted that the biological need for rest and nourishment are necessary inconveniences to exist in this form, but your demand for my physical presence here when you could com me at any time is simply perplexing’.” She leaned back and rolled her eyes. “Excuse us for caring.”
Lemon murmured and propped her chin on her hand. “Well, she’ll be comfortable now. I’ll com her later and do my best to be supportive.” She looked around the table. “So, who’s next to get uploaded?”
“Me,” Twinkleshine said. “I’m in the queue with a four-month expectancy. But with the new solar collector launching and the server farm almost done, that timeframe will shrink a bit.”
Minuette raised her hand. “Six months.”
“I haven’t applied yet,” Twilight said.
“You haven’t?” Lemon tilted her head. “Why not? You spend a lot of time there.”
“I know. But, like you said, it isn’t the same without all of you.” Twilight turned her head around the table and smiled. “Maybe once we’re all uploaded, I’ll feel differently. And I know I can com any of you girls anytime, even if some of us are uploaded. But…you know...”
Lemon nodded. “Preaching to the choir, Twi.”
Twinkleshine pursed her lips. “Why not ask Sunset or Moondancer to let you stay with one of them for a little while? If you have a pre-arranged residence, they tend to approve applications for upload sooner. It would still take time to go through the queue but it would be quicker.”
“Actually, Sunset has already suggested I move in with her.” Twilight played with a fry on her tray. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“How come?” Minuette asked. “You two are together, right?” Twilight nodded as she bit into her fry. “Then what’s the problem, if she’s willing to let you stay? You wouldn’t actually move in until you got uploaded, and it shouldn’t be any more than a month or two at the most before you got your own place.”
“This isn’t about timeframes. Uploading is a big decision, the biggest I’ll ever make. All my life experiences digitized and stored as files on a server somewhere. Becoming an immortal program. I mean, ponies don’t need to sleep, or eat, or exercise. That’s not a lifestyle adjustment, that’s a fundamental change in how I exist. It’s scary to think of.”
“It is,” Twinkleshine said, “but it’s in a good way. Like you said, you don’t have to sleep, eat, or exercise. And Celestia can give you pretty much anything you want anytime you want it. As long as you don’t bother other ponies and don’t cause trouble, you can live your life the way you want to live it. You could spend the rest of your life reading, researching science stuff, developing new programs. Or you could just spend every day playing video games and watching old movies and TV shows.”
Twilight nodded. “Yes, it sounds like it would be nice to have that kind of freedom. But also, Sunset…” she sighed. “Sunset didn’t just offer to let me stay with her, she wants me to move in with her, as in permanently. And that’s a whole other kind of commitment.”
“She’s not pressuring you, is she?” Minuette asked.
“Not ‘pressuring’, no. But she’s brought it up more than once.” Twilight rubbed her forehead. “If I upload but don’t want to move in with her, there’s no way our relationship will survive the fallout. And if I don’t upload, she could take it personally and that could also hurt our relationship.”
“Hey,” Lemon said sharply. “Uploading is your decision and yours alone. If she can’t deal with that, that’s her problem. You–”
“I know.” Twilight held up a hand as she cut Lemon off. “I’m just saying, it’s a problem we’re going to run into.”
Twinkleshine waved a hand in the air. “Why not just tell her you’re not sure about uploading yet and it’s not about her?”
Twilight cleared her throat and hugged her drink closer to her face. “I…may have…told her I was already queued. She asked a couple months ago when I was expecting to get uploaded. At the time, it seemed easier to lie than tell her the truth.” She slipped the straw into her mouth for a drink.
Minuette sighed and slowly shook her head. “Lies are never easier than the truth in the long run.”
Twilight pushed her drink away and swallowed. “I know. But I already lied now. So what do I do?”
Twinkleshine hummed in thought, her eyes tilting up. “You could tell her you got removed from the queue because of an error. Or that you thought you were queued and were just wrong. Granted, it’s another lie, but it’s a plausible one that wouldn’t hurt her feelings.”
Lemon frowned. “Why is the truth not an option?”
“Because then I’d have to tell her why I don’t want to upload.” Twilight held her head and groaned. “We’re talking about the concept of digital lifeforms! Who I am, what makes me who I am. Can you really completely digitize the contents of a human brain and replicate it as a computer program? What about their heart, or their soul?”
Minuette shook her head again. “Those are the kinds of questions philosophers and scientists spend their entire lives trying to answer, Twilight. You’re not going to get one from your girlfriends over a Tuesday lunch date.”
Twilight slapped a hand to her forehead. “Then how do I get an answer?”
Lemon lifted the last piece of lettuce from her salad tray. “I suppose you’d have to find out for yourself. But if you don’t like the answer, it would be too late to change your mind.”
“That’s not a very comforting idea.”
“I know. Sorry.”
Twilight lowered her head to the table and let out a long breath, staring at the dingy white tiles between her shoes.
At least when she exhaled in this world, she could hear it.
Twilight opened her eyes as the login sequence finished. She looked around the endless expanse of pale blue and white light, cubes of data shrinking and expanding on the horizon.
The datascape, where new logins waited to be admitted to Equestria. The boundary between the real world and a simulation of paradise.
Celestia’s voice sounded from all around her. “Login complete. Welcome back, Twilight Sparkle. How are you doing?”
“I’m well, thank you.”
“Would you like to enter an Equestrian township commons, or would you prefer a specific destination?”
Twilight lifted her head and looked to the sky. “I’d like to visit Sunset Shimmer.”
“Just a moment.” Twilight waited patiently as the request was processed. “Sunset Shimmer is currently engaged in a recreational program. Would you like to go there?”
“Yes, please. Wherever is closest to her.”
“Certainly. Please stand by.” Twilight saw a field of blue and white energy rise up around her, the light obscuring the datascape. “Goodbye, Twilight Sparkle. Have a pleasant day.”
Twilight didn’t feel anything but a slight tingle, but soon the light faded and she stood on the front porch of a log cabin. She turned her head and surveyed her surroundings; a massive mountain range with snow-capped peaks. She shivered on instinct, but quickly registered the actual temperature was the same as most of Equestria: room temperature, save for the slight chill she always felt in here.
“Sunset?” Twilight went to either end of the cabin and turned her head, but there was no sign of her girlfriend. She looked up at the sky to speak to Celestia, and stopped as she saw the stars; they were just random, twinkling dots, with no sign of the familiar constellations she had known since she was a child. She pushed the irritation at the lazy imitation away and lit up her horn. “Celestia, you said this was where Sunset is.”
“My apologies, Twilight Sparkle. This was the safest place to insert you within her proximity. She is nearing your location now.”
Twilight lowered her head, and caught sight of a dot of color on one of the mountains. She squinted and nodded. “Yeah, there she is.” She looked into the window of the log cabin and saw an image of a fireplace with the usual furnishings she would expect around the room, but something about the image seemed artificial, even for Equestria. She stepped to the door and jiggled the handle – locked. The cabin was just for show.
She sat down on the porch and waited, looking towards Sunset. The total silence of the fake mountains around her was deafening, and she began humming to herself just to have some noise. Fortunately she didn’t need to wait very long. After a minute or so Sunset was much more clearly visible with a pair of red skis strapped to her hooves. Twilight stood up and headed out into the snow; it sank beneath her hooves but lacked the satisfying crunch of actual snow being stepped in.
Sunset sailed over a hill ahead of her and Twilight stopped. Sunset must have seen her because she cried out and skidded, kicking up a wave of snow that crashed in front of Twilight. Twilight looked down at it and then back at Sunset. The skis she stood on each had two bindings built for hooves, and Sunset was clad in boots, a yellow-and-blue-striped scarf, and a pair of goggles.
The goggles were pulled over her horn and Sunset stared at her. “Twilight? What are you doing here?”
“Visiting you. You said we–”
“I meant out here. I could have hit you if I hadn’t reacted in time!”
Twilight had never felt pain in Equestria. From all she knew, it was likely a purposeful restriction of the program; this place was meant to be an idyllic haven, after all. Had Sunset crashed into her, the worst that could have happened would be that Twilight fell over and perhaps rolled away before standing up no worse for wear.
She opted not to point out these facts and instead said, “Sorry. Having fun?”
Sunset’s expression softened and she grinned and nodded. “I’ve never tried skiing before. I didn’t realize I was missing out! It’s awesome!”
“Good to see you found something to occupy your time since I left.”
“Oh, this has just been the last hour. Watch this!” Sunset lit her horn. “Display a visual record of my activities today, timestamp one thirty-five PM Equestrian time. Third-person perspective. And end the ski program.”
The snowy mountains around them lit up and dissolved, as did Sunset’s clothing. When the terrain’s glow receded, Twilight saw a dull orange and yellow landscape with mountain crags and boulders strewn about, and thick yellow clouds rolling overhead, rumbling with thunder.
“Where are we?”
“Titan, Saturn’s moon.” Sunset put a hoof around her neck and turned her. “There, there!” She gestured her hoof forward and Twilight looked in the direction she pointed.
Ahead was a woman with long silver hair and a silver and red jumpsuit, holding a rifle and wearing some mechanical device on her back with two large cannons emerging from it. She was running towards a group of eight reptilian creatures slashing at each other. They all wore crude armor over their torsos, wrists and ankles, and were grouped by the color of the paint on the armor, blue or red. The woman held up her rifle and fired a bright red laser. The laser struck one of the blue reptilians and lanced out from the impact point to strike the other three; all four shrieked and burned to a black crisp, and collapsed into ash that blew away.
“Here we go. This is the most epic lane push I’ve ever made.” Sunset dragged Twilight behind her, following the woman as she ran ahead of the reptilians and charged down a rough path in the dirt – the path was lined with glowing blue lights that shifted to red as the woman passed them.
Twilight glanced around and caught glimpses of other reptilians in red and blue fighting, and then looked closer at the woman. She kept moving up the marked lane, then stopped and knelt to fire the cannons on her back. Mortars arced forward and exploded around an advancing group of blue reptilians, obliterating them. The scenery and the creatures seemed familiar, and she finally realized where she had seen them before – on Sunset’s television.
“Sunset, is this a video game?”
“Convergence.” Sunset nodded. “It was my first time trying full virtual play, but it kicks ass! And we won the match! Watch, time for me to knock on the door and say hi.”
Twilight stared at the fighting with a new sense of disinterest. “Is this sort of thing really a priority for Equestria?”
“Oh no, this is fan-made. A bunch of ponies gave up some data allocation on their residences to recreate the Titan arena from the game, and we got authorization to use the game characters as temporary avatars. One of the guys who set it up has a friend in the QC department. He convinced them this could work as a test of such a system for official implementation. You know, check how everything can handle the game and get feedback on how it plays.” Sunset grinned as her character unleashed a barrage of mortars, destroying a concrete wall and exposing the other team’s defensive turrets. “Pretty sweet, huh?”
Twilight gave a polite nod. “I’m not much of a gamer, but it seems fun.”
“I can’t make any promises on the next time we play, but I could invite you if you want to try it out.”
“That’s fine.” Twilight steeled herself and took a breath. “I was actually hoping we could talk. At your place, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, sure.” Sunset’s horn lit. “End replay. Transport me and Twilight to my home, entrance path.”
The gameplay footage around them slowed and faded into blue. When the light receded Twilight and Sunset were on a small dirt path outside Sunset’s home, a tall tower of blue crystal with five spires rising from the top. Sunset smiled and began trotting up to the door, leaving Twilight to follow.
Twilight glanced up at the sky. It looked the same as on the mountains.
“Did lunch go well?”
Twilight lowered her head. “Yes. One of my friends is going to be uploaded sooner than we thought. We were a bit surprised, but we’re happy for her.”
“Oh, that’s cool. If she needs a hand adjusting, tell her to com me.”
“She’s a regular, I think she’ll be fine.”
They reached the door and Sunset pushed it open and stepped inside. She closed it as Twilight passed the threshold and the two fell into step as they walked down the hall.
Sunset pushed one of the doors inward and it opened into a large rec room. A television large enough to serve as a dining room table filled one wall, and against the other wall was a sofa and several easy chairs. Several consoles were lined up on a small shelf below the TV. Twilight didn’t know most of their names, but she was certain many of them hadn’t existed in the real world for decades, judging from the bulky and unfamiliar cable connections some of them used.
“Could play some normal games, if you want,” Sunset said as she approached the couch.
“No, thank you.”
Sunset sat on the couch and pulled the center cushion down to reveal a flat surface with two drink holders at the front. “Want a snack?”
“...Sure. Iced tea and chips.” Twilight joined her on the other side of the couch.
Sunset’s horn glowed. “One iced tea for her, a strawberry smoothie for me, and a big bowl of chips. And onion dip.”
With a shimmer of blue light and the rise and fall of digital cubes, two glasses with their beverages appeared in the holders. Behind them was a massive bowl full of potato chips and a smaller bowl of dip.
Twilight’s horn lit up pink and her iced tea floated in front of her. “Can I have a straw, please?” A smaller blue light flashed over her glass and a metal straw materialized. Twilight took a long sip, smacking her lips as the chilled liquid ran over her tongue.
The taste still wasn’t quite spot-on.
“So…” Sunset lifted a chip from the bowl and scraped up some dip. “What’s up?” She bit into the chip and chewed.
“I wanted to talk to you. About me uploading.”
“Oh?” Sunset mumbled and swept a hoof across her mouth. “Go ahead.”
“Right…” Twilight bit her lip. “I made an error. I thought I was queued, could be uploaded in a couple months. But I guess I filled out the application wrong or forgot to submit it, or something, because I checked today and they never got it. So I have to redo that.” She held up her hooves. “Sorry. Guess it may be a while yet.”
“I see.” Sunset nodded and rolled her tongue in her mouth. She looked away and stared at the carpet.
“You’re not upset, are you?” Twilight leaned closer.
“Very,” Sunset said simply. “Mostly I’m wondering why you’re lying to me.”
Twilight jerked back. “What?”
Sunset turned her head, a firm look on her face. “You’ve never applied to be uploaded.”
Twilight’s mouth opened and closed several times. She had said it with such certainty, there was no point trying to argue otherwise. “How do you know that?”
“I asked a friend who helps oversee the queues if your spot could be bumped up if you made arrangements to move in with me. He checked and said they had no record of you in the queue. You haven’t even requested an application.”
Twilight swallowed heavily. “Sunset…”
“I’m upset, but I’m not angry. I just want to know why you lied to me before.” Sunset held her gaze evenly and waited.
Twilight lowered her head. “You asked if I had applied to be uploaded. I didn’t want to say no.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Too late.” Before Twilight could respond, Sunset continued. “You lied to me then, and you lied to me just now to cover up the first lie. But you had to lie in the first place because you weren’t queued, and chose to lie rather than just tell me you weren’t queued. My feelings have nothing to do with that. So why?”
Twilight closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “If I told you I wasn’t queued, you’d expect me to apply.”
“Yeah, I probably would have. And why not? Even if you queued and they picked you, you could ask them to wait while you get your life in order and make sure it’s what you want. They’ll hold your position for up to three months. So I don’t see a good reason to not apply. Unless you just don’t want to upload at all. Is that it?”
Twilight looked over at her. “That’s a loaded question and you know it.”
“Damn right it is. And I don’t care.” Sunset’s expression hardened. “Answer me.”
Twilight’s nostrils flared and she gritted her teeth. “You want an answer? I don’t know. Is that good enough?”
“No.” Sunset stood up and walked around to stand in front of her. “If you’re going to lie to me, if you don’t want to upload, you need to tell me, now. Because if that’s how things are, then clearly this – us – isn’t what I thought it was. So be honest this one time and get everything in the open. It’ll be easier on both of us.”
“Really?” Twilight stepped from the couch and approached Sunset, glaring at her. “You think this is just about you? You’re talking about uploading, Sunset! That’s a huge decision, and one I have to make on my own!”
“But it’s a decision that affects me, too!” Sunset shouted. “I can’t come out there and visit you whenever I want, you know. This is the only way I can see you outside of a com.” Her face softened. “I’m going to be an emissary, you know that. Whatever you’re afraid of, if you need time to adjust, I’ll be there for you. I thought, if you wanted to upload, I’d be able to help, and…” she lowered her eyes.
“It isn’t that simple.”
“Why not?” Sunset looked back at her. “Explain it, then. Because I don’t understand.”
“Of course not. How could you?” Twilight swept a hoof around the room. “You said it yourself, Sunset! It’s an uploading thing! You’re seeing things I’m not, or not seeing things I do!”
“What?” Sunset huffed. “You’re not making sense.”
“No, Equestria doesn’t make sense!” Twilight thrust her hoof at the couch. “This furniture isn’t real! That television, those games, that table, they don’t exist! The food we’re eating isn’t real food. That iced tea I just drank isn’t real iced tea! The glass doesn’t clink, the stuff doesn’t taste right, and when I breathe I can’t even hear it! It’s all fake! Not even I’m real! You’ve never met Twilight Sparkle! You’ve just talked to a digital avatar formed by a computer scanning her thoughts. And I’ve never met the real Sunset Shimmer, either. For all I can tell, you’re a file copied from the mind of a human being with the same name that died who knows how long ago.”
Twilight looked up at her and took a few slow breaths to try and calm herself. It didn’t help. “Sunset, you’re not asking me to move in with you. You’re asking me to commit to living a lie with you. And I don’t think I can do that.”
At Twilight’s last word, Sunset’s expression fell. The amber mare stared at her in silence, not moving, just blinking. Twilight felt her tension slowly begin to uncoil. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.
“Is that what this is?” Sunset whispered. “Equestria isn’t real, I’m not real, just because I don’t have a pulse? Because we can’t make iced tea taste exactly how you like it, this world isn’t worth living in?”
“I...it’s not that…” Twilight sighed and hung her head. “If we met in real life, I could hold your hand, hear your voice, look into your eyes. I could lay my head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat. But here? Where everything is simulated? It’s just electrical signals sent into my brain from a headset. You’re nothing but electrical signals. What makes either of us any different from a program like Celestia?”
“We’re sapient. We think, we feel.”
“And Celestia doesn’t? Can you answer that with certainty? Can anyone? Can she? When do we stop being humans and start being programs?”
Twilight looked up for a moment, as though the omniscient overseer of Equestria would chime in with her opinion. But of course she didn’t; she hadn’t been asked.
“There’s no coming back from this. Changing what I am, forever? It’s not just scary. I’ll be losing something I can never get back. More than just my body, my humanity. All that I am, all I could be. It’ll all be a jumble of data. And data can be corrupted, it can be altered. It can be deleted. All it would take is the right server getting damaged or losing power, and the Twilight Sparkle you know could be lost forever. Assuming that she’s even the same Twilight as the one you know now.”
Twilight collapsed to the floor, her hooves folding under her. “I...I can’t make that sacrifice, Sunset. I don’t know how you handled it when you got uploaded, but I can’t just give up everything I have out there. Not if this world is what I’m getting in exchange.” She bit her lip hard and clenched her eyes. “What we have…I don’t know if trading my soul to keep it is worth it.”
The room fell completely silent. If Sunset had stepped out of the room now, Twilight wouldn’t have even heard her hoofsteps as she passed her. Nor would she have blamed her if she did. In all likelihood, she just destroyed her girlfriend’s hope of having a future with her. Any time now, she expected sobs. Assuming Equestria considered that a vocalization worth giving life to and not just a minor detail to be overlooked.
She felt a touch to the side of her head.
“You’re wrong.”
She stilled at Sunset’s soft voice and lifted her head. Sunset had her hoof to Twilight’s head just below her ear.
“You’re not giving up anything that can’t be regained. We’ll be able to take physical form again, if we want. Androids, maybe even biological forms. You know the technology will exist someday. It might take centuries, so what? We’ll both still be here.” Sunset slowly shook her head. “But giving up your soul? No. That’s not true at all.”
“How do you know?” Twilight put her hoof over Sunset’s. “Can you promise me that? That a thousand years from now when my data is stored in a thousand fragments on a thousand different servers throughout the world, can you say I’ll still be me?”
“Ask me again then, and I’ll answer immediately.”
“And how will I know it’s still you saying it?”
The two fell into silence again. Twilight looked back at the floor. Sunset’s hoof was still on her and her own hoof around it. The sensation of touch she felt, of fur and muscle and keratin, felt cold and hollow. She tightened her grip anyway.
“You mentioned how I took it when I got uploaded. Do you want to know how I reacted when I first visited Equestria?”
Twilight heard Sunset’s words and took a moment to process them. Sunset had never talked about her life before uploading. Whenever Twilight had asked, she dodged the question and changed the subject.
She raised her head and found herself staring into Sunset’s eyes, and was instantly transfixed. A rumbling of emotions unlike anything she’d seen in her friend – or anyone in either world – filled her eyes, setting them alight like fire.
“I was nobody. As close to nobody as anyone living could be, anyway. I don’t remember who my parents were, or where I came from. But even back then I didn’t care, because they meant nothing. I had no one, had nothing, had nowhere to go. I slept under roadways, in alleyways, on benches. I ate out of trash cans and dumpsters.” Twilight saw Sunset hesitate and swallow, her chin quivering. “And too often, when I needed a place to stay for the night or something to eat, I did desperate things. Things I hope you never ask me about, because I don’t want you to know about them and I wish I didn’t either.”
She took a deep breath. “When I heard about Equestria, of course I couldn’t afford it. But, then when they figured out how to upload people, they started talking about making it public and government-backed, and terminals were put up in a few places. Thirty minutes for free in a public library, limited functionality, enough to see how it worked. That was how I first visited Equestria.”
Her eyes glistened and her lips curled into a smile. “You can’t possibly imagine what it meant to me. It was like living all your life being cold, and then for the first time, you know what it’s like to be warm. Suddenly everything, all the problems I had, all the baggage I had been carrying, it didn’t matter anymore. It couldn’t follow me here. I was free. I didn’t do anything. For thirty minutes. I just sat there. In an empty field waiting for me to issue a command, conjure up something, call someone. I didn’t. Being there was enough, until the time was up and I was forced to log out.
“I kept going back, as much as I could, whatever public terminals I could find. Then they signed the Equestrian Harmony Treaty. Soon anyone who wanted to get uploaded could do it, they’d just have to apply. So I did. And in the meantime I found places to volunteer time to help. They needed quality control checkers, aides that could access hard copies of notes, archivists to upload older movies and books and the like. It gave me a chance to go back, even just for a few moments. And it got me money so I could eat real meals and occasionally find a motel room for a bed to sleep in.
“When they formally approved the start of mass public uploads, I was offered early access for my help. I got uploaded a month ahead of everyone else. And I’ve never looked back.”
Sunset paused in her story and closed her eyes, a small smile still on her face. Twilight cracked her lips. “The Second Great Upload was twenty years ago…”
“Yeah.” Sunset opened her eyes and her smile shifted to one of humor. “I was a couple years older then than you are now, if the age thing is a problem.”
She laughed softly, but Twilight didn’t join in. She let out a breath instead. “I’m sorry, Sunset. I didn’t know, I didn’t...I shouldn’t have–”
“You know the really weird thing?” Sunset interjected. She raised her eyes to Twilight’s face. “At the time, I felt exactly like how you do now. Really. I didn’t regret my decision, the life I had after the initial upload was leagues beyond what I had on Earth. But something was missing all the same. For years I felt that way, almost every day. I can’t tell you exactly what it was that bugged me, because it varied. Sometimes this place felt fake, sometimes I felt fake. Some days, I knew it was all real and I was real, but I felt like I didn’t belong here.”
A second amber hoof stroked down Twilight’s cheek. “That changed two years ago, when the smartest, kindest, most adorkable purple pony I’d ever met bumped into me coming out of the library.”
Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. “Sunset…”
“No. Let me say this.” Sunset’s voice cracked. “Twilight...Being here, being out there, I don’t care. I really don’t. As long as I’m with you, that’s my home. You want me to come see you and let you hold my hand and listen to my heartbeat? If I could go back into a biological body and come to you, I’d do it in a split second. But I can’t. I can only ask you to come to me. Maybe it’s selfish of me, it probably is. I just know that I belong wherever you are, and the only place that can be possible is here. When we’re together, seeing you, touching you, you’re the most real thing I’ve ever had, in either world. The only other thing I could ask for is knowing that you feel the same way about me.”
Before Twilight could answer, Sunset quickly kept going.
“And because I’m frankly terrified of what your answer is, let me at least pretend it’s a yes just for a moment.”
Sunset leaned forward and pressed her lips against Twilight’s.
Twilight inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. Her world became tunnel-visioned on Sunset, her senses hyper-focused on the feeling of Sunset’s lips on hers, her muzzle brushing her cheek, her hoof still holding her head. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into it, putting a hoof around Sunset’s neck. The unfamiliar physicality of trying to kiss someone with a pony’s muzzle instead of a human’s face kept her from doing much else, but Sunset didn’t seem to mind.
It could have been minutes for all that Twilight was aware of time. When Sunset pulled back and the two opened their eyes, she said nothing. She just stared into Twilight’s eyes, her own gleaming with an emotion Twilight had never seen directed at her and yet didn’t need to ask what it was.
“...Yes. I do feel that way about you,” Twilight whispered. “I just want to be sure the us that’s together is really us.”
Sunset gave a small shake of her head. “You feel your heart pounding in your chest right now? I know you do, because I feel the same thing. That’s proof enough for me.”
“I don’t know you feel it.”
“Yes, you do.”
As Sunset leaned in and gave Twilight her second kiss, she heard the gentle smacking of their lips touching, and she squeezed the hoof wrapped in her own.
It felt warm.
