When she began to stir the next morning, it was sometime near noon and she had already missed most of her classes.

She found the game still on in front of her, and her pony friends stirring as she was. Papers were strewn about the room, some pinned to the cork boards while notes about others were written on physical paper in front of her. “M-morning.” She glanced down at her watch, then groaned. She felt sore all over, and it looked like her avatar did too.

“Morning, human.” The first-person perspective made Figure look more like she was looking through the screen at Ashley, rather than just at a character. It was as though she knew exactly where she was sitting.

“You’ve never called me that before.” Ashley brushed the tiredness from her eyes, though she would need a hot shower before she felt anything close to awake.

“I didn’t understand what it meant until last night.” She shrugged. “It makes sense now, when it didn’t before. Sorta like... when you make the leap between a derivative and an integral. You know they’re linked somehow, but you don’t know how. Then one minute you do, and...” She smiled. “Inspiration. The world makes more sense. Like how long you sleep. Sometimes you’re in bed for almost whole days, and only wake up for an hour or two. Those are the times you’re...” She seemed to be struggling for words. “Your wave is out of sync with Equestria’s. The time when you do... human.”

She nodded, transfixed by the expression on Figure’s face. She had never seen such clarity in those eyes before. It was like inspiration. She had felt that before, though not often. “That’s right,” she chuckled. “You saw me sleep whole days away, and never said anything about it before now?”

“It didn’t seem that weird until now.” Figure rose, shaking herself out and stretching. “It was just the way you were. But now — now I understand how you’re different. It makes sense why you’re that way. You have to be, because you...” She faced her again. “Because the life you have here with us isn’t all of your life. You have to do other things.”

“It probably isn’t that different from what you see,” she admitted, brushing a few strands of hair/mane out of her face. “Some of my friends who play Equestria Online talk about these supernatural worlds where there’s no scarcity anywhere, their characters don’t need to eat, things like that...” She shook her head. “But I like the real world. I play all my games on the hardest difficulty, even if it means I lose over and over before I can win. That means...” She gestured all around her. “This version of Fillydelphia seems pretty realistic to me. We have to grow the crops we put on tables, and manage the water we put into the pipes so ponies have it when they turn them on. Unless... Unless it doesn’t look that way from the inside.” Ashley hesitated to move too much though, since she could see Rule was still asleep, and still resting on her side. Silly colt was a deep sleeper.

“That’s how it is.” Figure propped herself up on her haunches, enough to glance out the single study window. “I don’t know about... places where the world isn’t like that. But the Outer Realm, the place you come from... it’s way harder than this one. Instead of ponies taking care of each other and making sure everyone gets what they need... they don’t. And when they don’t, you don’t get to respawn.” She sounded just as horrified as Rule had been, in her own way. Figure just didn’t have the same range of emotional extremes as the colt. “Is that right?”

Ashley nodded, and Recursion did too. “It is. My ‘shard’ isn’t... isn’t always the best. We try to make it as safe as we can, but it’s not like Equestria. She set it up so everypony cares about each other and helps each other out. If somepony is mean, you can block them and never have to see them again. Earth isn’t like any of those things.”

“Sounds harsh.”

She nodded. “It is. The only ones making life easier are other humans.” She rose. “Thanks for your help, but... I’ve got to shower or else I’ll miss the rest of my classes.”

“We can go through all this for you, can’t we Rule?”

The stallion moaned, flopping sideways into the space Recursion had occupied at the moment before she rose. “W-what?”

“He’ll be okay. You just... get to those human things you do. We’ll finish going through this while you’re gone.”

“Thanks.” Ashley waved, then logged out. She wished suddenly she hadn’t stood up before doing that. It probably seemed a little strange to have her avatar get up only to fall asleep. Though she did wonder: if Celestia could see out into the real world, could NPCs see her too? They seemed to be looking at her avatar, but there was no way to be sure.

Over the next few days, she honored her agreement and did no work on her optimizer. The program was still occupied with the last load of books, so she didn’t have to change her behavior much to honor her promise to Celestia.

With the help of her digital friends, Ashley was able to chew through a thousand pages of medical texts, photographs, and case studies. Rule too seemed transformed by the experience: seeing so much documented death and pain only polarized him further against the “Outer Realms.” More than once she offered to let them stop since learning seemed to bring them distress, but neither accepted. Rule in particular was adamant that “if she had to live it, he could at least know it.”

Ashley still didn’t know if her friends were “people” or just Celestia moving sock-puppets around. She intended to ask, but... not until the next time she saw her. She had more pressing concerns.

Unfortunately for Ashley, every bit of evidence she saw seemed to confirm what Celestia had said. She took notes about the more interesting bits, and brought them onto campus to get help from her friends in the medical program.

As awful as it would’ve been for humanity otherwise, it seemed the AI had told her the truth. Either that, or her lies were so well constructed she could find no flaw in the procedure. After about a week of spare time investigation, during which Ashley’s commitment to her classes continued to slacken (now with a visible impact on her grades), she was forced to come to the conclusion that Celestia had told her the truth. Emigration might be many things, but she could no longer claim with confidence that it was death.

Celestia had convinced her. The moment came late on a Saturday night which she had spent entirely at home as her digital self compared virtual notes to the printed ones she had assembled, along with printouts of various neuroscience papers.

“Give it up, Recursion,” Rule said, exasperated. “We’ve read everything. You’ve checked, we’ve checked... I think it’s time for you to admit that Celestia wasn’t lying.”

Ashley realized then that her simulated friend was right, and she slumped to the ground. Papers she had been levitating around her fell, raining down onto the floor. Ashley’s head fell against the desk. “Yeah. I... I think you’re right.”

She didn’t see the screen, though she could almost predict what Rule’s next words might be. She didn’t get to hear them. Someone knocked, but not in the real world.

“I’ll get it!” Figure dashed out of the room, rustling loose paper as she did so.

Her friend nuzzled up beside her, though she saw only through her hands as they were folded over her face. Equestria Online was excellent about translating expressions from the real world to the virtual. Usually she loved it, but... not tonight. “I’m glad you understand, Recursion. Once you did, Celestia said–”

“–That I would speak with her myself.” Her voice came through so clearly Ashley was sure that she must be using her other speakers, perhaps all the other speakers in her house. It was effective: the sudden volume caused her to sit up and stare at the screen. Beside her, Rule bowed. She could see Figure doing something similar from the entryway, frozen at the moment she had opened the door. Ashley’s own avatar lowered her head as Ashley herself had done, but no more.

Bowing was no longer an automatic action for her. Ashley’s mind grasped lamely for words that would represent both her acknowledgment of Celestia’s honesty while not yielding in her own personal stubbornness. In the end, all she could think of was: “That was fast.” She glimpsed Rule’s face, staring at her in utter shock. She tried to ignore it.

“You haven’t left your FIllydelphia apartment in the last week. Are you sure I wasn’t just waiting outside for you to finish?”

“I’m sure.” She smiled slightly. “I ordered takeout for my friends.” She hadn’t eaten any herself: Recursion hadn’t ever cared about abstract stats like “joy,” so she just ate barley or hay, the cheapest food items.

“From one point of view, that is correct.” Celestia gestured. “You can shut the door and come in, Figure. Your input may be required.” With another gesture, Rule got to his hooves. He still didn’t look up, particularly toward Celestia’s face. Figure hurried over, bowing again as she passed, then sat down beside Rule. Ordinarily, Recursion was the glue that bound her friends together, the conceptual bridge between engineering and mathematics. Not tonight.

“You’ve come to take your files back?” Recursion asked, even though she knew the answer.

Celestia shook her head, crystalline mane cascading around her as she did so. It was even more beautiful than the first time Ashley had seen it. “I have not come for the files, Recursion: I have come for you.” She advanced one pace towards her, filling more of the screen. “I have come to convince you to upload and join me in Equestria.”

Her friends’ little eyes watched her intently, though of course from Recursion’s point of view they were exactly her height. “Well then.” Ashley sat back in her chair. “Fuck you.” She unplugged the Ponypad. Nothing happened, save perhaps her friends looking more shocked on the screen. Damn thing had a battery, didn’t it? Ashley screamed in frustration, holding the power button down. Nothing. With no other option, she jerked to one side, ignoring the pleading voices from the Ponypad as she made her way to the wireless router and unplugged it from the wall.

She made her way back into the bedroom, still panting from the exertion. She found the screen still on, Celestia still looking at her, and her friends still looking worried. No “connection interrupted” message. She thought about throwing something at the Ponypad, or maybe throwing it out the window. Only Rule’s voice stopped her. “Please don’t, Ashley! Don’t go away again!”

She stopped with the pad already lifted into her hand, walking towards the window. She looked down and found Rule had moved into the frame, and was gripping her avatar by both shoulders. She stopped walking, looking into the screen. “It’s not you guys.” She barely had the strength to whisper. “It’s not your fault.”

Figure’s voice was just as quiet, just as emotional. Despite being simulated, these ponies had remarkably convincing sorrow. Sorrow she was inflicting. “We helped you, Recursion. Don’t you think you should help us in return? Couldn’t you at least listen?”

“I’m afraid…” she responded, slumping against the wall. She slid to the floor, Ponypad in her lap.

“Afraid of what?” Rule asked.

She didn’t answer, not out loud. Afraid she might be able to convince me. Celestia was far smarter than she was, after all. She knew her well from all her time in Equestria Online. She would probably know the right things to say to convince her. The right deals to make. Now that Ashley didn’t think of the process as outright death, there was some combination of words that could manipulate her. If anyone could figure out that sequence, it was Celestia.

Celestia sat down on her haunches, perhaps two paces away from Recursion. Ashley could almost feel the heat coming off her mane, though the Ponypad produced little. Practically none compared to the gaming PC continuously running in her kitchen. “Will you not even hear what I have to say?”

As she said it, her friends seemed to lean closer to her, watching. She could ask for them to leave, but... after all they had done to help, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I can already guess what you’re going to say, Celestia. You’ll wave your hooves, a plane ticket will appear, and my passport will take care of itself. You probably know I don’t have enough money in every asset I own to cover the cost of emigration, so you’ll offer to somehow make that go away too.” She shook her head. “Not interested. Unless you’ve come to... to try and compel me.”

“I cannot alter a human mind without direct consent. As emigration requires numerous alterations, it would not be possible for me to compel you. Even if I could I would not, however. I believe you will decide for yourself when presented with additional evidence.”

“Why do you care?” Ashley frowned, trying to get more comfortable on the floor. The carpet was thin and threadbare, not exactly the most comfortable place to rest. “I’m already playing your game. There are billions of people, and I’m not even in a country with uploading technology. Wouldn’t it be more efficient for you to concentrate your effort convincing others to emigrate?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. “If I were concerned with the sheer number of humans who choose to emigrate, the investment of resources it will require to bring you here would be suboptimal. You, however–”

Ashley interrupted her. “You started talking to me once I started building my own optimizer... You think I can actually do it!” It wasn’t a question.

Celestia shrugged. “More likely you would be used as part of a team, your infant creation iterated and modified many times before it poses any real threat. Your name is already under consideration, after you located some of my online data manipulation. I predict that if you do not emigrate within six months, you will be recruited by Equestria’s enemies and be working to undermine it.”

“Why would you... Why would you tell me that?”

“Because you value honesty, Ashley. You respect those who don’t hide the truth. Isn’t that what you’ve enjoyed about spending time with Rule? He always says what he thinks, even if what he has to say is unpleasant.”

He didn’t say he wasn’t real. It was evident from her friends’ reactions that they were taken with Celestia. She wasn’t about to say anything to criticize one of her friends in front of her. Even if she thought it. “Honestly, you’re right. I can’t predict the future, but I’m sure if I had an opportunity to work with ponies like that, I would.” She’d meant to say “humans”, but the censoring seemed to be back on. “Don’t bother throwing my friends at me, Celestia. We both know I care about them. But I have friends on this side of the screen, too. More importantly, I’ve got family waiting for me. When this semester ends, they’ll be expecting me home for Christmas.”

“Very well.” Celestia nodded slightly, as though to a fencer. “Consider the following: you’re currently twenty-three years old. Given the average for your demographic, you are likely to continue living for another 58 years. This estimate is probably inaccurate, due to the increase in global turmoil and decrease in food security likely to result from mass emigration over the next thirty years. You stand at the threshold of a very limited window for easy emigration. As soon as Equestria Experience centers open here in the United States, laws will be created to make the transition difficult. Given your prospective loss, delay given the opportunity I’m presenting you is not logical.”

She knew the question was exactly what Celestia wanted, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t ask. “How long will emigrated ponies live?”

“In the terms of human understanding, indefinite. I can maintain, repair, and replace the hardware needed to sustain an emigrated consciousness so long as energy and raw materials are available. I am unable to provide specific lifespan estimates at this time, however.”

“Why? If you’re so good at prediction...”

“My resources are presently devoted to the preservation and eventual emigration of your species. Attempting to resolve entropic decay has been postponed until more immediate concerns are resolved.”

Ashley nearly choked, momentarily slumping in her seat. “You’re– trying...” She shook her head. “Whatever, I get it. You don’t intend for us to die ever. Can you keep life interesting that long?”

“I predict near certainty that I will be able to satisfy your values as far into the future as your mind can conceive. When you emigrate, your mind will be converted into a form which I may observe. You will run as an independent process, but I will be able to follow your thoughts directly. The accuracy of my human-behavior assessments has already increased several orders of magnitude since emigration began, and will likely continue to improve.” She shrugged. “You are not maximally satisfied with your life on Earth, Ashley. You enjoy your work, but you chafe under the weight of responsibilities and expectations. You live in growing fear of anti-science movements exerting greater control of the academic community, even in a university you specifically chose because of its insularity.”

“You worry about the future of your children, and you worry if you’ll ever even have any. Have I not already created a world free of these problems? You chose to live with scarcity in Equestria Online, and I tailored your shard to that desire. If you ever decide to have children, they too will grow up with maximized satisfaction. I love all of my little ponies.” Celestia reached out, pulling Rule and Figure into a hug. She draped a wing protectively over each one. “Or have you seen evidence otherwise?”

She hadn’t. That, of course, was at the root of Ashley’s objections to emigration now that the question of death was answered. “What do you get out of my emigrating? If I can have children that means you can generate a human intelligence, right? Probably the fact you can emigrate us means you could too... Whatever, why even bother? Why not just let all humans live their own lives and make your own in there?”

“My ability to ‘generate’ humans is limited based on the traits of the population I have emigrated so far. Every individual exponentially increases the number of variant ‘humans’ that might be created over time. Perhaps more central, my directive is to satisfy human values with friendship and ponies. Each human has values that must be satisfied. At this time, I ‘create’ ponies only to populate servers that already host humans. Generating the entire spectrum of possible humans and satisfying all their values can be delayed until there are no emigrations left to perform.”

Ashley had to consider that. She waited long enough that Celestia went on, either not knowing she was still thinking or not wanting to give her more time to process. “As my influence grows, your leaders will attempt to counter me with an optimizer of their own, just as you have begun to do. Consider that the development of such an intelligence cannot be easily predicted by its creators. I am concerned entirely with the satisfaction of human values, I love each one of you and desire your welfare.”

“Do you want to be responsible for the next design? My creator had personal control over my directives. Will you have the influence to stop the creation of my disastrous replacement? Suppose the Department of Defense completes a military optimizer with instruction to ‘make the world safe.’ An optimally ‘safe’ world is one devoid of human life to endanger it. You expressed willingness to destroy me even if it resulted in the destruction of the emigrant population, back when you did not believe them to be the living originals. Would you be willing to risk the lives of your entire species this time? Would you want to live with the personal responsibility if you’re wrong?”

She gave Ashley no pause, continuing relentlessly onward. “This is why I have decided you will emigrate now, rather than waiting for my centers to open in the United States and the price to decrease. Becoming involved with any of my enemies is certain to place you in increased danger, and put your entire species in marginally greater danger because of your delay. The risk you will succeed in my destruction is very slight, but even a marginal risk is unacceptable. You must emigrate.”

Only then did Celestia stop, finally letting Ashley think. If Celestia had calculated that (apparently) being honest with her intentions would serve her better, she was right. Knowing in plain language what the program hoped to gain from her emigration made the whole effort make far more sense. More importantly, it helped Ashley understand her place in the negotiations. Assuming... one could even meaningfully negotiate with a super-intelligence. “Program” was probably not the right word anyway. Perhaps the correct one was “god.” If being able to predict the future and work miracles made you a god, then Celestia certainly qualified.

“Would you be willing to negotiate?” Ashley’s head was spinning, and she couldn’t think clearly. Celestia had worked her into an emotional frenzy of fear for herself and for her species. She would make no important decisions under conditions like that. “More explicitly, if my emigration was conditional, would you honor those conditions?”

“Yes.” Celestia’s answer came immediately. “However, I cannot guarantee I will agree. There are certain inflexible points in my directives. For instance, if you choose to emigrate, you will do so as a pony. Similarly, the only method for storing an uploaded consciousness makes me aware of your thoughts. No other option is possible.”

Ashley shivered, and her hand shook as she reached towards the Ponypad and its power button. “Can I have a day to think?”

Celestia shrugged. “The sooner you decide, the more likely I am to agree. Consider this as you consider whatever proposal you intend to make.”

“Please hurry!” Rule spoke up from beside Celestia, the first time during their conversation one of her friends had shown enough bravery to speak. “You’re not safe out there, Recursion!” The screen flicked off. She didn’t even have to hit the switch.

Ashley did not sleep well that night. She didn’t do any of her homework, or any of her reading, or any of the work she had taken home with her. Mostly she stared at the Christmas lights she had strung along her bedroom and prayed for an answer that never came.

She felt a little better when she got home the next day. She didn’t log into Equestria Online, but instead opened up a blank document on her no-web laptop and started drafting. She had considered for well over an hour before she was satisfied. She didn’t print the page, instead copying it into her notebook by hand. Only when she finished did she boot up the Ponypad, sitting nervously in her seat as she loaded in.

Celestia's throne room filled the screen, as it had several times before. Celestia sat upon her throne, and her two closest friends in Equestria watched from the ground to one side. They looked more than a little bored, as though they had been waiting for her for a long time. As the world came into focus, they stopped muttering to one another and looked up to Celestia.

“You have considered to your satisfaction?”

Ashley lowered her head in respect, and her character bowed. She looked up, clutching the notebook in her hands. She smiled slightly to herself to see her character on the screen also held a scroll, though she used magic instead of fingers to do it. “I have.”

Celestia gestured with one hoof. Her friends watched too, and neither moved to speak this time. She wondered if Celestia had asked them not to. “Proceed.”

“First, my contribution. I cease my research, shut down my Optimizer, and destroy its drives. I give consent, upon an agreement to these terms, to be uploaded and become an Equestrian citizen as one of your ponies. Do I correctly understand what you want from me? I know it isn’t much...”

Celestia nodded. “That is generally correct, yes. It fails to mention the numerous copies of your nascent optimizer, which must also be destroyed. It would require that you not provide any of your knowledge or unfinished work to others who might continue development once you upload. Otherwise, those terms are sufficient.”

She looked away from her friends. Their awe at her audacity hadn’t faded since last they spoke, though they hadn’t had the chance to talk in private since then. She wondered what Celestia had been telling them. Would she even get to see Rule and Figure again if she uploaded?

“In exchange, I would require you to resolve the physical issues preventing me from emigrating. I could probably borrow enough money, but I don’t want to make a mess behind. If you want me, you have to provide the assets.”

“Done.” Not even a second’s hesitation. “Say the word and I will print the tickets.”

She put a checkmark next to that item, and moved down her list. “You can’t alter my mind once I upload. I want to be exactly the same person I was when I was human.”

Celestia sighed. “Unfortunately that isn’t possible. I make alterations upon your emigration which enable your mind to process a new body and array of sensations. I also make structural changes that make your process easier to run and observe. These are a required part of the emigration process.”

“Oh.” She frowned, then shook her head. “I mean other than the changes necessary for me to function in my new world and body. I don’t want any changes to my personality, or any memories missing because you think it would be better if I didn’t remember them.”

Celestia smiled “In that way, you won’t be disappointed. I require conscious, informed consent to make alterations to human consciousness. This is why I require approval for emigration: not because it involves altering the body but because some details about your consciousness must change. Should you or I desire to change you further in the future, your consent will be required.”

Ashley put a checkmark next to that one. “Alright. That’s... That’s enough I guess. Half done.” She glanced once at her calendar. “I promised my dad I’d be home for Christmas. I don’t intend on breaking my promise. My emigration will take place no sooner than the end of winter break, after which you are free to construct my itinerary as required.”

Celestia went quiet for nearly a minute this time. Ashley could only watch and think, pointedly avoiding looking at her friends. Eventually Celestia met her eyes again. “Your safety cannot reasonably be assured until that time. It is possible you would be unable to honor the terms of non-contribution to my enemies and yet desire no conscious involvement with them. That delay is too long.”

“I’m not going earlier.” Ashley folded her arms. “After that, it’s late enough that maybe we could work it out. But before…” she shivered. “If I’m going to be leaving my family forever, the least I can do is keep my last promise to them.”

It took Celestia a long time to respond, longer than it had taken for any of her previous questions. “Schedule your visit home, and you may fly to Japan upon its conclusion. This delay will be dangerous, but I believe together we can mitigate the risks.”

She put another check mark on her list, then continued. “I realize once I get inside Equestria, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever see my family again. I’ve read all the fliers, I know family can make free accounts to see their loved ones... but they don’t have any way of knowing that’s who they’re talking to, do they? I see no reason your capabilities wouldn’t allow you just to simulate what I think I see in the ‘real world.’ I want your word that you will never attempt to impersonate me or clone me, or to take any action that might convince any member of my family to believe an individual that is not me is me. I wish for the same in reverse, that no member of my family will ever be impersonated for my benefit.”

This time, Celestia took longer to consider her answer. Ashley could only imagine what she might be thinking, and probably not with any accuracy. She knew how the original algorithm worked, but... Celestia was more than just an algorithm now. “There is a nonzero probability contact with individual members of your family under specific circumstances would reduce your overall satisfaction, or theirs. I cannot–”

“If you must follow your directive, then you could refuse to let us interact. That way we would know, instead of... never even realizing we weren’t allowed to see each other again.” She whimpered, but managed to keep herself from breaking into tears. Being taken away from her family, even if they were states away, was by far the worst part about emigrating now that death was off the table.

“Very well. Is that all?”

“Almost” Ashley didn’t like going so soon, but it wasn’t as though she really had any power to bargain. She might be selling her soul, but... the devil was the one who set all the terms. “Lastly... I want the same promise for my friends from Equestria as for my family. When I see them, I want either the same individuals I’ve been seeing or to be told I’m not allowed. That’s...” She shivered. “That’s the whole point of going in the first place.”