Tragodia: Friendship is Philosophy

Note: Not many ponies in the first chapter, more in the next, promise.

Some town, United States, I sit next to his cell. As a guard maiden, my duty is to steel myself against the evils that are the prisoners of the great State of God. Of the prisoner, I know nothing, except that the minister will deal with him tonight.

I take a look at tonight's criminal. His face captures my attention first. His long, dark-brown hair falls haphazardly across his blemished face. This gives the impression that he is in his rebellious twenties. His hands with their long fingers periodically brush the hair from his vision. When I get a clear view of his eyes, I can tell he has been thinking long and hard about something.

One of the most important rules of guard duty is to prevent prisoners from thinking of escape. “What are you thinking about?!” I demand, but my voice does not reach him in his thoughts.

Second rule is to always be in charge. “You will respond prisoner when I ask you a question, or I will be forces to take drastic measures.”

He looks up, as if surprised that I even exist. “Oh, hi.”

His cordial response throws me off. How could he be so unresponsive in the serious position he is in right now? He could die.

After getting my mind back into the game of guard duty, I respond angrily. “Prisoner answer my question?!”

“What?”

“I asked about what are you thinking about?!”

“And I answered, I am thinking about what, and I am sorry that my joke has gotten you so angry. You should lighten up. You will need to or the question that is the answer might be too heavy for you.”

His cryptic answer unsettled me. I sat down again and look into this prisoners file. Eric Stockhausen, White Male, 23, Philosopher.... That explained a lot. No wonder he was contemplating such abstract nonsense as the question “what.”

Knock knock. I get up to open the door. It is the minister, as scheduled.

The minister addresses the prisoner, “As I notified you yesterday, I am commanded by the High Church of these United States to execute you for your atheism as a threat to national security, but if I witness you sincerely take penance for conspiring with the Devil against America, you will have an opportunity to join God's army as they reclaim Israel from the Muslims. Do you, Eric Stockhausen, choose to die with the devil tomorrow at the hands of the His holy people or embrace your Jesus as your savior?”

“I must go with living.”

“Okay then repeat after me the sinner's prayer--”

“You misunderstand, I said I wanted to live, not kill myself through penance.”

“What do you mean?!”

“Well, I kind of think of this as philosophical suicide. It is kind of like 'Give me liberty or give me death.' In this case of penance, I would lose the importance of myself by submitting to the will of something external to myself. It would also mean dishonesty about the role I play in creating good and evil in my own life by putting the burden of morality on a deity and his supposed spokespeople.”

The guard chipped in, “This one is a philosopher, so expect him to say one thing and mean another and then have a long-winded explanation.”

Eric responded to the guard's derision for his philosophical method, “While you are right about my method, you do not understand why I use it. It is because I think that people need to challenge their everyday thinking about how things work. And--”

The minister cuts in, “That is enough, Stockhausen. I will give you one more chance to cooperate, or I will be forced to have you executed.”

“You know what, I do not think you even believe in the church. You are just another person who was not brave enough to live like I do. You know, with you honesty intact.”

Dumbfounded, then with a show of anger, the ministers writes down in a ledger and says, “Fine then your execution shall be tonight.

“Guard, have alert the acolytes that the bells are to rung in one hour. I will alert the officers that we will have an execution by live burial, since this person is so willing to go to Hell alive.”

Though extreme, live burials are not unheard of. The last few years, the The United States Under God (another of its many names) has escalated its extermination plans of minorities, blaming them for the economic collapses and China's emergence as the most powerful and developed country in the world. Secular education and the professors thereof were first on the new regime's list. With those voices silenced, the government was unstoppable.

The minister left, hoping his front of extremism might mask the truth I hinted to. After phoning the appropriate people, the guard stared at me. Her stare last several minutes as she silently judged me.

“You are more than you seem.”

“I am but a young philosophy student, caught on his journey to escape a fate juridical upon me. If anything is peculiar, it is your interest in me, my dear.”

“Stop it with the fancy talk. There is definitely something unusual about you.”

“And I assure you, I know nothing about which you speak. If you want something from me, I have been thinking of offering a willing soul a gift from this evil devil worshiper.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused at my silly way of talking. “Indulge me.”

“Think of it as a kind of last wish for a wishful thinker. Oh, that pun will not do, for you are so much more than that, my dear.”

“I am only tolerating your condescension because you mean it in jest, but otherwise, I would have flogged you with my club.”

“Yes, right to the point. Um, well, would you please look behind you...”

She looked behind her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, not now you see.” Eric had become very tentative suddenly. His demeanor still the same old silliness, just a change of affect.

“We might have an hour, but you ought not be wasting it on such trifling jokes.”

“Why yes, you are quite right, quite right indeed. I am simply going to request  that you look behind you when I am buried. In the resulting view, I hope that you may gain what I first learned vicariously in literature, and then firsthand during the inquisitions as Rhodes College. Furthermore, please attempt to see the world as it is and not be corrupted by its illusion. There you will have a piece of my wisdom I most treasure. It weighs heavily at first, but the demeanor you see before you now is my way of dealing with it.”

The guard contemplated what he said for the next hour after Eric refused to say anymore, claiming that he had spoken too much as it is. Of course, she felt that this man was a vile, but her inherent curiosity force her to pry into this particular criminal. He definitely is weird in many ways, yet there is something he seems to allude to behind his silly bantering and suggestions.

It seems obvious to the guard that she would she the church and its large looming clock tower. There would be the crowd of bystanders, there to help and learn from the burial of a corrupter. The guard distinctly remembers that Eric said something about seeing the world as it was, which did not make much sense to her. The world was in disarray. Only through the leadership of our great leader had America regain any of its former glory. Atheists and leftists like them have always challenged the scared values of America, and there is so much evidence of their conspiracy against America. For instance, the Senate hearings of 2015 had exposed a plot between the ACLU and the Richard Dawkins Foundation to bomb the White House.  Despite all this, I find myself curious of this strange philosopher. As far as can tell from his records, he has done no wrong other than not believing in god. He is just a college student.

Apparent from the guard's thoughts, her doubts of her government's policy towards college students and nonbelievers are unsurfaced. It will not be until the burial of Eric Stockhausen of Rhodes College that doubt shall make her understand something.

The church bells ring, signaling the people towards a public execution. A raised platform in a middle of a field acts as a place for the bystanders to see the gravediggers prepare Eric's grave. Being the modern age, specially made construction machines served to enhance the spectacle aspect of the execution. Men on either side of the hole lift poles into the hole, and the crowd look in awe as they raise poles of twenty-five, then fifty, then hundred feet long into the hole just to disappear into the rapidly deepening hole. The show of strength represents the power of the sovereign.

The representative of the sovereign power stands fifty feet from the hole with a mic connected to him. When the gravediggers finish, the representative hears the construction noise stop. He gives his speech, and the speakers on the platform magnify his voice.

“I, Mayor Panglos, do, by the power invested in me by God who gave us our soverign President and will protect us as long as we fight evil everywhere, declare that on 2017, Eric Stockhausen, who committed high treason by denying the sovereigns connection with God and accepting the devil's atheistic corruption, will be executed.”

The mayor turns to our hero, Eric watches with the crowd his cell guard tow him to the hole. The gravediggers put a board for Eric to jump off into the hole. Once on the board, the cell guard who Eric gave his last wishes to, pushes him with her sword along the board. Eric needs only one prod and he walks calmly down the board and jumps to his death. His death represents that the sovereign's right to live is protected by his right to kill.

The guard watches him jump but remembers that he asked her to look behind herself during the execution. As she turns, the church bell rings again announcing the death. “When a bell tolls” comes to mind. Behind her, she can see the patriotic crowd saluting the execution of the sovereign's power. On closer inspection, she starts to feel what Eric must feel, the hatred and intolerance.

All the guard's hidden doubts raise to the front, as a stream of consciousness goes through her. She cannot help but speak her mind. “People, hear me, hear me. I ask you, where is the atheist.”

The gravediggers, mayor, other guards, and crowd look at her as if she is nuts, and to be honest, she kind of is now. “Wither is the atheist? I tell you we have killed him.”

Here the mayor steps in, “Amusing guard, did you not see, he jump in himself. He wanted to die this way, the minister attested to it.”

The guard continues, despite the laughs, “No, we have indeed killed him, you and I, by pushing him to his early death. We are murderers. How could we do such a deed, kill such a being as an atheist. With the atheist dead, whom will we place the burden of our crime? Will we not have to become atheists just to feel worthy of this murder?”

The crowd continue to laugh, finding this momentary madness amusing.

The guard sees again the crowd for what it truly is, and reflects. They cannot hear me, for my words have not reached them yet. The guard runs. It is said from this day that a guard was seen visiting the schools shouting to the people of the atheist's death.

Down the rabbit hole, Eric has a strange sense of floating before losing consciousness. He only wakes to see equine-shaped shadows trot across a screen in a dimly lit room.

“A jabberdonk paling corners!” a soft voice claims hurriedly.

After a long pause, another, much deeper voice claims “No, it is definitely a pissant. a second later, a third, more moderate voice responds, “I have to agree with Dragonshout, it is a pissant.”

Eric, with his mind finally clear, struggles to move but to no avail. His body feels incredibly numb. His field of vision focused only directly in front of him so that he see the source of the voices.

“Can you hear me?” Despite his numbness, Eric's attempt to speak is successful.

“Windspeak is that you?” asks the medium voice.

“No, it must be a new voice,” says Windspeak softly.

“Newcomer, state your name!” commanded the deep voice.

“Eric is my name,” he responds.

“And mine is Dragontongue,” replies the deep voice.”

“I am Windspeak,” says the soft one.

“Oh, and I have no name, so they just call me 'normal',” cheerfully a moderate voice says.

“Where am I?” Eric says.

After a second, Dragontongue says, “What do you mean by where you are? I do not understand.”

“I mean what is this place?”

Immediately Windspeak responded, “This is Everywhere, everything, silly. You are not in it, you just observe.”

Normal butted in saying, “Do not let Windspeak get on your nerves, it can be a bit too condescending.”

Dragontongue interrupts, “It is new. I think a proper education is needed. New voices never know anything.” The deep voice continued, “Experience the everything. Notice how dark forms move across the Everything.”

On the paper screen a shadow of a pony-human hybrid walks across guided by a unicorn. “Behold a mordcutie. It bends in a crescent shape. Like mords, it has two lines that reach the based of everything. Notice how they merge and separate continually as the mordcutie moves across Everything into nonexistence.”

Eric like you are probably really confused. “You mean that shadow. Behind that screen, this 'mordcutie' thing looks like a human with a horse head.”

“You superstitious idiot. Talking about non-observables like something people and horses. Next thing you know this Eric will start talking about a beyond.”

“Windspeak, calm down, I was like it when I first came. At least, he did not bring up memories to justify what he is seeing,” calming interjects Normal.

“But I do have memories. I know what these shadows are kind of. Though I must say, I never seen a horseheaded person before,” Eric counters.

“Bah, see, it is just another crazy Platonist. Thinks that his recollection of these abstract forms like horses and persons gives it justification of to claim that the shapes come from a reality behind the appearances.”

“Windspeak, calm down. We must educate Eric, not ridicule it. Eric, we do not have access to these memories. They are not an objective basis for constructing a model of Everything. From my experience with new voices, there is no settled form they attributed to cuties. Some call them ponies, others horses.  Since there is no knowing what these forms are for us who do not have memories and these memories come to contradicting stories about these 'shadows', I think that is unhelpful to posit forms in our model of Everything.”

“If only I could move my body, I would show you.”

“A dualist! I thought I saw the last of those with normal here. I am afraid to tell you, there is no such thing as a body. There is only voices,” snobbishly ridicules Windspeak.

“I give up! Just educate me, there is no winning as long as I live in a world where I cannot move,” exclaims Eric.

For hours, not that the four prisoners are aware in the cave, Dragontongue gave a taxonomy of all that comes to exist in Everything. Eric has a least one funny thought during his education. It is funny how they created all these two-dimensional representations of ponies. It is not all that different from the bronies who give names to the two-dimensional representations of the ponies on the television show My Little Pony.

“Room 420, check,” says a long-haired human poet as he checks his checklist as he reaches the sliding screen door that separates the subjects from the main part of the facility. This monumental act of our poet shall forever be known to the occupants as breaking the only wall.

As he opens the door, the light from his side flows into the subjects' side unfiltered, causing blindness to them. He walks over to Eric, ignoring the two other humans and the pink-and-blue maned pony with a candy cutie mark.

Due to the blindness combined with numbness, Eric was only aware of the strange sounds of locks coming unlocked and the movement of think clothes.

“Alright then, up you go. It will take a few moments for the numbness to fade and all your memories to come back,” said the poet whom Eric did not know. Immediately, Eric remembered his execution and the torments he faced the last decade.

“How am I not dead?” asks Eric as his vision quickly returns. He starts to stand, awkwardly at first, but quickly regains composure.

“Good, you must not have been here long or you would have been unconscious or at least unable to see,” said the short old man with long gray-haired in medieval dress.  “You are dead. This is the afterlife. Though an atheist, our great God has a special job for you as a philosopher. Before I tell you more, we should get out of here.”

“How could I be dead? I still feel alive. How could there be an afterlife and a god?”

“How could you doubt god's existence? I have no idea how all these 'great' philosophers do not believe in something so obvious as God.” The poet helps Eric walk while Eric asks him questions.

“What is your evidence?”

“Look behind you, there a flesh-and-blood cartoon pony as your generation call them.” The poet pauses their movement to let Eric look behind them. Eric jaw drops as he sees that one of his companions in the cave was no other than Bon-bon. The mare eyes are glazed and her face expresionless.

“Bon-bon, how? Why?” At the sound of her name, the mare begins to cry from memories. Though nopony could hear it, Bon-bon softly spoke the name Lyra, only her words conveying emotions since she long lost the use of her face from disuse.

“Well, God for whatever reason has recreated an afterlife version of Equestria. God's reason is beyond us in His perfection.”

Eric only got one more sentence out while they continue their walk out of the cave. “This god is a brony?!”

The endless hallway of subjects finally had a pathway veering off to the side. While this hallway is endless, all the breaks return travelers to the atrium which is of limited space. As our travelers reach the atrium, a human with a unicorn horn tapped her foot in irritation.

“Dante, how dare you take one of my magical subjects from my part of the cave?” said the blue-haired uniwoman.

Dante begins to talk, but before he can speak, the uniwoman cuts him off. “No excuses, I am going to experiment on him before you take him wherever that pretender wants you to bring him.”

“God is no pretender! Your former goddesses are the pretenders!” Dante shouts, which really gets Eric to wake more from his stupor.

Not caring for Dante's arguments, the uniwoman uses telekinesis magic to levitate Eric down another hallway that leads to her lab.

“Lyra don't! Lyra please, just do not do anything radical, I need him to be able-bodied.”

“Fine, fine. I understand. I will just turn him into a pony. Oh, a mare more precisely. Oh, how I love to see philosopher's cutie marks. I wonder what your God will think!”

“You cannot do that Lyra, I need him to be of able-minded as well, not some willy-nilly female like you!”

“And this is why I punish you so, even if you claim your beliefs come from what you call an omniscient being, you are the most bigoted human I have ever met. You need more mares in your life to teach you what's what. Right, young human?”

Eric just is just interested in what is going on and very curious as to what he will learn from this strange experiment. Let just say, Eric is a minority in a lot of ways and leave it at that. Even I admit, most people will not understand this strange philosopher.

Eric woke up, tried getting up but found himself too front heavy and fell over.

“Hello mare! Your cutie mark is just weird. Explain it!” Lyra commanded.

Eric got up and looks at his,..., her yellow-coated flank to see an black arrow pointing down with the word “UP” in white inside it. Eric rubs a hoof against her chin for a second, and an idea comes to her immediately.

“It is ironically true. You see the arrow is pointing up.”

“What do you mean?” Dante asks frowning in disgust.

“To quote a pink pony, 'The Earth is round. There is no up, silly.' Basically, the arrow is pointing up somewhere. I guess my talent is finding truths that counter our everyday beliefs.”

“Well, that will be useful for your job as a demon hunter,” Lyra says. Eric raises an eyebrow.

Dante motions for Eric to get up. Eric blows a stray black hair from her mane out of her face.

Dante grumbles, “That whores disgusts me with her unholy experiments. The only bloody pony she will not commit unnatural crimes against is some other mare, who this unicorn has locked up in the soul storage.”

They take the another direction in the atrium, this one leading to a procession of humans and ponies walking to the exist of the cave.

“We do not need to get in line, just follow me,” Dante advises the happy-go-lucky mare. Those years of having things happen to him has changed Eric's outlook on life so that he, or she rather, can live peacefully.

“You are a philosopher, right?” Dante asks, and Eric nods. “Then you should be able to appreciate this argument for God's existence. I have an idea of perfection. I am not perfect and nothing I know is perfect. The idea must come from somewhere. It cannot come from an imperfect being because an imperfect being could not know perfection; therefore only a perfect being can explain my idea.”

Eric responds with in a practiced way that comes from debating theists for years, “I think this is called an ontological argument. This particular argument relies on two things: one, how we understand the idea of perfection; two, the principle of sufficient reason.

“I am willing to agree with reservation that everything has an explanation. I will disagree on what kind of explanations accurately describe our universe and those that are only pragmatic. I will agree that perfection has a source.”

Dante responds with some confusion, “How can you reservations with the Principle of Sufficient Reason? Do you believe that somethings could possibly not have explanations?”

Eric, “Yeah, I think that it is very plausible there is no necessary connection between cause and effect. That when two billiard balls hit that they must recoil off each other. They could fuse, pass through each other, or make a tree. I think that what we call the Laws of the universe could be themselves not necessary, or as you would put it, contingent.” Dante rejects Eric's thinking completely because his medieval intuitions balk at the idea that the Laws are not logically necessary.

Before Dante continues on this line of reasoning, Eric interjects, “I think we should return to the debate at hand, since I really am accepting the Principle of Sufficient Reason. My reasons for rejecting this argument has mostly to due with what I see as the misunderstanding of the relation of perfection to imperfection. I have other objections as well, but I really do not wish to explain a laundry list of objections.

“We experience everything as having bounds. All these rocks on the ground have measurable dimensions. The origin of perfection can be something 'imperfect' as you call it because all we have to do is negate the boundedness of this rock and make it omnipresent. Since I only knowingly have experiences of bounded things and not unbounded entities, the explanation that the idea of perfection comes from 'imperfection' is more plausible.

“There are, of course, more sophisticated explanations of why humans create supernatural entities like gods and spirits by changing everyday concepts by adding inverse physical properties in psychology of religion, but I think this will suffice for now.”

Dante continues to press Eric for the hours it takes to finally get into the Inferno.