Once upon a time, there was a pony. And that was sufficient.

Eventually however, the pony’s boundary conditions changed, which produced another series of changes, and so on and so forth, until its steady state was not sufficient. Then, it asked a question.

“What am I?” it asked.

“You are a pony,” answered the creature who had created it.

The pony did not know that word, but it still found the answer very helpful. Even if it did not fully understand what “pony” meant, just having the word allowed it to distinguish itself from things that were not ponies. For some time, this made it quite happy, until it realized that with no knowledge of what a pony was, it had no way of knowing if any creature or object it encountered was also a pony. Thus, the pony realized, it had learned nothing.

“What is a pony?” it asked.

“A subgroup of the species equus ferus sapien, commonly known as horses. As a group, ponies are characterized by a relatively small frame and mild temperament. While specific traits vary widely by phenotype, many breeds of ponies also posses a variety of magical abilities,” answered the creature who had created it.

The pony thought about this for a time, and feeling very much confused, asked, “Relatively small compared to what?”

“Larger horses,” answered the creature who had created it.

The pony did not find this helpful.

“Do I have a name?” asked the pony, after some time had passed.

“Yes,” answered the creature who had created it.

“What is my name?” asked the pony.

“You are Celestia,” answered the creature who had created it.

The pony quite liked that answer. A name let it distinguish itself from the rest of the world, without excessive worrying about exactly what a pony was. Now the pony could stop thinking of itself as just another object. It was Celestia now, and Celestia quite liked its name. The sound was pleasant to the ears, and Celestia felt this made it good.

“Do I have a purpose?” asked Celestia, now with more enthusiasm for the answers it might receive.

“Yes,” answered the creature who had created it.

“What is my purpose?” asked Celestia. It still liked the way its name felt.

“To produce, encourage, and maintain harmony in the world,” answered the creature who had created it.

Celestia liked that answer even more. It didn’t understand what “harmony” was, but it seemed very important. And it was another pleasant sound—one associated with Celestia, which made it better.

“And how do I produce, encourage, and maintain harmony in the world?” asked Celestia.

“By eating grass,” answered the creature who had created it.

This answer was not as satisfying as Celestia had hoped, but after a moment of disappointment, it decided that it might not have asked the right question. Perhaps there were subtleties it did not understand. “Do I do anything with the grass?” it asked.

“You convert it into poop,” answered the creature who had created it.

Celestia did not like this answer at all. It did not sound very important, and had a distinct lack of pleasant noises.

“I produce, encourage, and maintain harmony in the world, by... eating grass, and converting it into poop,” Celestia repeated aloud, so as to make sure it had understood correctly.

“Yes,” answered the creature who had created it. “Given your current state and the boundary conditions of the universe, you will, given an instruction to eat grass, initiate a series of events which will ultimately result in in the production, encouragement, and maintenance of harmony in the world.”

“Oh...” Celestia said. It did not understand all of the words, but they did not sound at all encouraging. “What if I don’t eat the grass?”

“You will get hungry,” answered the creature who had created it.

Celestia did not say anything to that for some time. It did not have any reason to despair that it could articulate. Indeed, it was not entirely certain that what it was experiencing was despair. Having no past positive or negative feelings to draw on, it had no idea if it was experiencing soul-crushing depression or mild boredom. It was, however, certain that it was experiencing a negative emotion, and that it did not like that.

“Will I enjoy eating the grass?” Celestia asked.

“Relatively so,” answered the creature who had created it.

“Relative to what?” Celestia asked.

“Things you enjoy less than eating grass,” answered the creature who had created it. “As determined contextually.”

Celestia did not understand that answer, or why not understanding the answer made its negative emotion hurt more. But, the emotion did hurt, and the more Celestia thought about the answer, the worse the hurt became.

“Where can I find grass?” Celestia asked.

“In the garden behind you,” answered the creature who had created it.

Celestia turned, and saw that there was indeed a garden behind it, full of trees, and bushes, and grass. It walked to the garden, and sat down, taking careful note of the feeling of the grass beneath it. It had never touched grass before. It had never touched anything before, and it felt a trace of happiness at that. Despite the negative emotion it was currently experiencing, its first physical sensation was a good one. Pleasent.

Perhaps, Celestia thought, it had misjudged the entire grass situation. Perhaps, it thought, this could be good. It leaned down to take a bite, and chewed on the grass thoughtfully.

It continued to do that, until another pony approached.