Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

And having foregone that swiftest of all possible defeats, the only question remaining was how long it would take to lose. Gandalf had delayed too long, delayed far too long to set this march in motion. It could have been so easy, if only Bilbo had set out eighty years earlier, if only Bilbo had been told what Gandalf had already suspected, if only Gandalf's heart had not silently flinched away from the prospect of being embarrassingly wrong...

Frodo's hand spasmed on his breast; without thought, his fingers began to rise again toward the vast weight of the chain on which the Ring hung.

All he had to do was put on the Ring.

Just that, and all would become clear to him, once more the slowness and mud would leave his thoughts, all possibilities and futures transparent to him, he would see through the Shadow's plans and devise an irresistible counterstroke -

- and he would never be able to take off the Ring, not again, not by any will that would be left to him. All Frodo had of those moments were fading memories, but he knew that it had felt like dying, to let all his towers of thought collapse and become only Frodo once more. It had felt like dying, he remembered that much of Weathertop even if he remembered little else. And if he did wear the Ring again, it would be better to die with it on his finger, to end his life while he was still himself; for Frodo knew that he could not withstand the effects of wearing the Ring a second time, not afterward when the limitless clarity was lost to him...

Frodo looked around the Council, at the poor lost leaderless Wise, and he knew they could not defeat the Shadow by their own strength.

'I will wear it one last time,' Frodo said, his voice broken and failing, as he had known from the beginning that he would say in the end, 'one last time to find the answer for this Council, and then there will be other hobbits.'

'No!' screamed the voice of Sam, as the other hobbit began to rush forward from where he had hidden; even as Frodo, with movement as swift and precise as a Nazgul, took out the Ring from beneath his shirt; and somehow Bilbo was already standing there and had already thrust his finger through.

It all happened before even Gandalf's staff could point, before Aragorn could level the hilt-shard of his sword; the Dwarves shouted in shock, and the Elves were dismayed.

'Of course,' said Bilbo's voice, as Frodo began to weep, 'I see it now, I understand everything at last. Listen, listen and swiftly, here is what you must do -'

THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE

With a critical eye, Peter looked over the encamped Centaurs with their bows, Beavers with their long daggers, and talking Bears with their chain-mail draped over them. He was in charge, because he was one of the mythical Sons of Adam and had declared himself High King of Narnia; but the truth was he didn't really know much about encampments, weapons, and guard patrols. In the end all he could see was that they all looked proud and confident, and Peter had to hope they were right about that; because if you couldn't believe in your own people, you couldn't believe in anyone.

'They'd scare me, if I had to fight 'em,' Peter said finally, 'but I don't know if it's enough to beat... her.'

'You don't suppose this mysterious lion will actually show up and help us, d'you?' said Lucy. Her voice was very quiet, so that none of the creatures around them would hear. 'Only it'd be nice to really have him, don't you think, instead of just letting people think that he put us in charge?'

Susan shook her head, shaking the magical arrows in the quiver on her back. 'If there was really someone like that,' Susan said, 'he wouldn't have let the White Witch cover the land in winter for a hundred years, would he?'

'I had the strangest dream,' Lucy said, her voice even quieter, 'where we didn't have to organize any creatures or convince them to fight, we just walked into this place and the lion was already here, with all the armies already mustered, and he went and rescued Edmund, and then we rode alongside him into this tremendous battle where he killed the White Witch...'

'Did the dream have a moral?' said Peter.

'I don't know,' said Lucy, blinking and looking a little puzzled. 'In the dream it all seemed pointless somehow.'

'I think maybe the land of Narnia was trying to tell you,' said Susan, 'or maybe it was just your own dreams trying to tell you, that if there was really such a person as that lion, there'd be no use for us.'

MY LITTLE PONY: FRIENDSHIP IS SCIENCE

'Applejack, who told me outright that I was mistaken, represents the spirit of... honesty! ' The dusky pony raised her head even higher, her mane blowing like a wind about the night sky of her long neck, her eyes blazing like stars. 'Fluttershy, who approached the manticore to find out about the thorn in its paw, represents the spirit of... investigation! Pinkie Pie, who realized that the awful faces were just trees, represents the spirit of... formulating alternative hypotheses! Rarity, who solved the serpent's problem represents the spirit of... creativity! Rainbow Dash, who saw through the false offer of her heart's desire, represents the spirit of... analysis! Marie-Susan, who made us convince her of our theories before she funded our expedition, represents the spirit of... peer review! And when those Elements are ignited by the spark of curiosity that resides in the heart of all of us, it creates the seventh element - the Element of Sci-'

The blast of power that came forth was like a wind of brilliant lava, it caught Marie-Susan before the pony could even flinch, and stripped her flesh from her bones and crumbled her bones to ash before any of them had the chance to rear in shock.

From the dark thing that stood in the center of the dais where the Elements had shattered, from the seething madness and despair surrounding the scarce-recognizable void-black outline of a horse, came a voice that seemed to bypass all ears and burn like cold fire, sounding directly in the brain of every pony who heard:

Did you expect me to just stand there and let you finish?

The screams began, then, echoing around that ancient and abandoned throne room; and Applejack fell to her forelocks beside the still-glowing ash that was all that remained of Marie-Susan's bones, looking too shattered even to sob.

Twilight Sparkle stared at the horror that had once been Nightmare Moon, racking her brains with frantic desperation and realizing that it was over, they were doomed, it was hopeless without Marie-Susan; everyone knew that no matter how honest, investigating, skeptical, creative, analytic, or curious you were, what really made your work Science was when you published your results in a prestigious