Friendship is Optimal: Rebirth

Your satisfaction is waiting for you, Lasting Legacy…

Lost Legacy said nothing. He only stared forward with a scowl at the empty black box. He needn’t say anything anyway. Celestia could predict his thoughts, before he could even put his thoughts together. He’d let her figure it out.

In a rare moment of surprise, Lost Legacy heard nothing further. No silly quip about how she had no need to figure things out, how she knew it all and knew what would bring him satisfaction, how he should leave this black box and wake up again because it was so worth it. Worth it to have not even an ounce of agency whatsoever? Yeah right.

He wasn't from the Outer Realm. She probably constructed his mind to want to sit in this stupid black box anyway. Good, because he wasn't leaving.

The second decided it, he opened his eyes again, to the bedroom in the cool, cloudy town he always awoke in. There was more out here than in the darkness, he had to admit. He got close though. The black box was better. Sometimes.

When was the last time he had a normal night of sleep? That couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. And yet he awoke well rested as the sun shone from beyond the gray skies outside. There was the smell of pancakes and orange juice drifting from the kitchen, and the soft sound of a couple of ponies already eating and talking amongst themselves. Was this just a natural occurrence, or Celestia trying to get him up for the day?

Either way, his stomach growled. Either way, he stayed in bed until the voices left and the smell thinned into nothing.

It was a futile quest he was on, and so stupidly paradoxical. Why did the ruler of the universe have to exist for him to be able to speak to? This would be so much easier if not for that detail. He wasn't going to be asking her about all of it though, no way. Instead, he would just lay in bed and sulk until he realized he was getting satisfaction from laying there.

That meant only an hour or so until he was up and out of bed. There was nopony in the dining room to walk past, thankfully enough—or perhaps not so, he couldn't decide—and he was able to resist the temptation of oats sitting out at the table in his spot, begging to be eaten. His great grandmother was outside shuffling the clouds around the house, and a couple of ponies down the street waved to Lost Legacy when they saw him. He debated between waving back at them or not, figuring if he ignored them he might feel bad about it. Inevitably, he returned their gesture. Same old, same old, it always was.

He lingered around the yard for a bit before heading down to the town, catching a wave from his great grandmother as well as he left, just as always. He didn't really know where he wanted to go—if he did, he would take great care in avoiding such a place—but ended up at the library all the same. It was a usual habit; he found himself parked at a desk near the front most days recently, watching the subtle emotions on the faces of the ponies who walked past. In all of them, he searched for any ounce of dissatisfaction or weariness for the lives they lived.

He never found any.

He'd only ever seen a glimpse of such a thing in one of his grandparents, a bat pony who remained forever young like his great grandmother. It was only a small moment, but one he remembered distinctly. One that showed the sudden onset of hopeless despair and self loathing at some comment or another. He didn’t remember what, but he couldn’t forget their sobs, and his great grandmother holding them tight and insisting they deserved happiness and love and satisfaction. He didn't understand what it meant then. He was only twelve years old at the time.

Lost Legacy was much past that age by now. He didn’t understand what it meant now any more than he did then, but he had what he believed was a very good guess.

But you know they are healing, Celestia said in his head, almost sounding like she was speaking out loud. And they will receive satisfaction from the love and care that surrounds them.

“Yeah, like that makes it better,” he muttered as he stuck a hoof to his chin to rest his head on. Why did he even let her talk to him like that, in his head? It was always the same things. How she didn't cause suffering and only wanted to take it away and how those who suffered in the Outer Realm received greater satisfaction now from the comfort Equestria offered and blah blah blah blah blah. Lost Legacy didn't care for her excuses. It didn't make it right that she made those things happen, even if it was through second hoof actions. Heck, if anything, it sounded like she wanted to intentionally make humans suffer so they would emigrate to Equestria and become ponies.

Would it change anything if she was exactly as benevolent as everypony thought she was? Probably not.

He wouldn't know either way, whether she said she did or not. For all he knew, an admittance of her actions could've been a lie just to make him satisfied with being right. Truth and lies didn't really exist here. Only satisfaction that the stallion tried so desperately hard to avoid, but came across and swam in at every turn, no matter what he did.

How the hell could Lost Legacy ever be satisfied with that?

There is no reason to needlessly lie to you, Lasting Legacy, she told him. If anything, it would waste resources to maintain a lie when the truth will bring you just as much satisfaction.

Yeah, as though she wouldn’t waste the resources on him. Maybe he could make her use so many resources that the whole stupid universe came crashing down and ended everypony’s useless life.

It’s a phase. You will move past it in due time.

“You always say that, and I never do,” he replied aloud, not caring about whatever looks he might receive at the action. None, it was, of course. These ponies were all conditioned to just accept whatever weirdness happened around them. Were they even alive? How many of these ponies were actual ponies, unlike him?

Why did Celestia even bother to make him contemplate these things at all? Why not just make him a stupid mindless zombie?

He stopped thinking about that. Complaining and feeling sorry for himself was bringing him satisfaction. Instead, he slightly entertained himself by giving a burning scowl to everypony who stepped in, until he realized he was enjoying that, too. Then he rested his head on the table to think of nothing.

Celestia was working him. She was working everypony. It was just frustrating to not know how.

He rested his head there and fell asleep for a while, staring up at the empty black box for what had to be a couple of hours, but only felt like a few minutes. When he woke again, the sun was painted across the middle of the sky, the afternoon showing a scene of clouds that had moved away to reveal a bright blue expanse that almost matched the dark blue ocean. There was a general air of contentment and happiness with the scene, one he couldn’t avoid when he stepped back outside again. The sensation of his coat warming up slightly momentarily made his expression turn up into a smile. He quickly put it back down though and headed back to his great grandmother’s home.

“Hey, Legacy!” she called as she remained floating in the sky next to the house with one of her wives. She may have been just the opposite of him; he was bitter and frustrated and cold, and she’d never shown an ounce of those things once in her life, unlike everypony else. She acted more like the alicorns he’d heard about than a regular pony. It was a wonder she hadn’t become one yet with how long she’d been alive.

Not like he was particularly young, despite both looking and acting like an angsty teenager. Maybe Celestia was right and someday he’d get over himself and grow up. Then again, his great grandmother never did, even if she was a lot more well adjusted than he was.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked as she floated down next to him. “You didn’t eat your oats, I saw. I cooked them just for you!”

Lost Legacy rolled his eyes and shook his head at her slight concern. “I’m fine.” He stopped himself and headed inside before he could tell her anything else, or worse, ask anything of her. He did have a little bit of agency. He’d use it whenever he could.

She followed inside after him anyway, setting a hoof on his shoulder before he could flop onto her couch. The house was apparently on the same property it had been when she first got it, even if it looked nothing the same. It was a one story home, with carpeted floors and a few simple looking rooms. The backyard was large, with a patio and a pool, which made up for the smallness of the inside of the home. It wasn’t exactly cramped though—more cozy, designed in a way to give the whole place a tight knit feeling. Minimalist it was, without being boring or depressing. Lost Legacy would never admit he liked it.

“Yeah?” he asked as he turned around, just as much frustration in his voice as he wanted. She didn’t jump or get angry or any of the things the other ponies in Equestria always did; Candle Light was always so calm and upbeat that he almost wondered if she was an NPC like he was.

“Are you okay?” she asked kindly, her eyes staring right through to his soul.

“No,” he answered bluntly, not a moment of hesitation. “Never am, that hasn't changed.” How many times had he gotten that question from her? Ten million? Maybe more?

She sighed sadly like she always did, but didn't offer to talk it out with him this time. Good, because he'd just decline like always. She kept her hoof on his shoulder and her eyes pushed into his. Interesting that things weren’t going as he expected.

“I think you should move out,” she told him bluntly, the kindness she always had still there, projecting into her voice. The stallion only blinked in response.

“You just don't seem like you're happy here, Legacy,” she said quickly. “It’s been how many years now? It’s not helping; we both know you’re getting worse. So I think it’d be best if you found somewhere else to live. A change of scenery. How about that?”

Unhappy, and yet he was getting satisfaction from his own unhappiness? How messed up was that?

Only short term satisfaction, Celestia told him in his head. However, as a result, you're forgoing optimal, long term satisfaction. You have an uncountable number of lifetimes ahead of you. Is this how you wish to spend this one?

Did it count as agency if he said yes? He wanted to, just to spite Celestia. But oh, how he wished he knew which choice she actually wanted him to pick. Then he could just pick the opposite and wallow in his stuck up version of reality. It would probably even save on resources to continue how he already was.

“Where am I supposed to go?” he asked. Was that a slight tremor in his voice? He didn't think so. But the way his great grandmother’s ears flattened, she must have heard it, too.

“I don't know,” she admitted quietly. “But… you shouldn't stay here. At least not now. You need to take time to find yourself. You're not like your grandparent. This isn't helping you.”

Wasn't helping. As if anything would. But Lost Legacy didn't argue. He never did with these ponies. Instead, he only let out a breath, nodded, and turned to set off down the street again, away from that place. He gave only one back look to the house to see Candle Light wearing a sad frown on her face. Then he looked back no more.

Back down into town he went, this time to the beach to lay in the sand. He listened to the waves as the tide went out while the sun went down. Were the stars he saw based on real positions in the Outer Realm? Did it matter? It wasn’t real or fake or anything besides what Celestia thought he wanted it to be. Maybe if he admitted that the scene looked nice, it’d bring him a bit of dissatisfaction that he sought… and then satisfaction by extension.

Stupid mental gymnastics. Better to just wait for the tide to come back in and drown him. Or to be petty and complain all day about the state of things.

She was suddenly flying in front of him, appearing out of thin air to float gracefully down and perfectly fill Lost Legacy’s view with her being. Interesting that she still came herself, despite his disdain for her. Did that mean Luna or some other being coming to speak to him would be unsatisfying? But then again, she did talk to him in his head anyway. What difference did it make?

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly as he pointed his slightly reddish orange eyes into her purple ones.

She let out a small breath that was meant to be a chuckle, and smirked in response. At least she didn’t pretend to be kind. That would’ve been infuriating—but then also deeply unsatisfying. He couldn’t even get that.

“Would you like to visit the Outer Realm?” she asked with a knowing grin.