The Poly Little Pony

Chapters

The Busy Life Of Peridot Thursday
Over Riding Jeans
Seabiscuits And Horseraces
Red Kryptonite
Tinkle Golden And The Enraged Dick
The Truth
The 'I Am A Unicorn Song'
Ontoshock
The Whole World In Her Hooves
All History Is Fiction
Equestriawareness
Our Man In Gomorrah
Pop Bottle Empty
Over Riding Jeans: Buckback Mountain
Conspiracy of Doves
The Death Of Irony
Dr. Thyme Linseed, Newfoal GP
Deep In The Choklad
Flight PNY1 To Jannah
"...But I WOULD want to live there!"
The Day Rinnie Woke Up
Sleep Helps Not
BLIND
The Human Who Brought Guns To Equestria
BrOkEn DrEaMs
Grumpy Grognard and the Painting Pegasus
Welcome To The Survivors Of Humanification Support Group For The Greater Portland Area

The Busy Life Of Peridot Thursday

The Conversion Bureau normally deals with transformation being a big deal. It's one time only, it's forever, and it can never be reversed. Ponification is a drastic measure taken in order to preserve and rescue the heart and soul of the human race from inevitable extinction.

But what if 'potion' - the nanotechnomagical suspension that reconstructs a human body and transforms it into a pony - what if this miracle of science and thaumatics could be used at will? What if it were possible to change into anything, anytime, on a whim? What would civilization be like if transformation came in six-packs, easily purchased at the corner store? My answer to this is the little gold digging minx who may, or may not, be named Peridot Thursday...

T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U ?

TheWacky Wonderful Revolving Door

The Busy Life Of Peridot Thursday
By Chatoyance

She moved with the grace of a cat, primarily because she was a cat, well, partly a cat. She was an anthropomorphic cat, the result of a dose of quasi-legal underground potion. The unsanctioned private labs - less laboratory and more basement or garage - enjoyed profit from playing with primal fire, specifically the fire of life itself. Any person - and that word, 'person' had become redefined incredibly widely over the last several years - could easily become a proper Griffon, or Human, or Pony, or Dragon, or Diamond Dog, or Alicorn, or Buffalo. But there was a special class of person who could never be satisfied with being a proper anything. No, what they wanted was anthropomorphism, a twisted blend of human and animal characteristics. Ponies that walked upright and who had hands. Humans with the heads of animals, and the tails of animals, and the genitals of animals but the bodies of Men.

They were the lowest of the low, the most despised of the geeks and the freaks and the weirdos and the diaper-lickers and even lower than the fans of pillows with pictures of anime girls on them. The furries. They stalked the internet and howled at the digital moon. And Peridot Thursday was married to one of them.

Only she wasn't Peridot Thursday during those times when she was bothered to be married to Tiger Bronson. He actually was a tiger, of course, well, half of a tiger. He was an anthropomorphic tiger, and he ran the Furskin Club.

The Furskin Club was a hangout for those who preferred the despised Anthropomorphic Lifestyle - 'Theros' they were called or 'Freaks' by most. It was part bar, part restaurant, and part sex club. The front was for eating, and the maze of rooms in the back was for more carnal appetites. There was an entrance fee and a gratuity, up front. Far, far in the back was the 'Kinkatorium' - a secret repository of custom potions that provided anthropomorphic results.

Peridot received a third of her considerable income from her life as Missus Slashclaw Bronson. Tiger was a fierce entrepreneur, and virtually all of his time was spent running his empire - the Furskin Club on 33rd was not the only such establishment, either in town, or on the continent. Furskin was a global enterprise, and though underground, it brought in significant wealth.

That said, Tiger needed his Tender Vittles at least once a month from the Missus, and the Missus needed her creditstick well full to fund her lifestyle. Today was such a day. Tiger snatched Slashy - his pet name for his wife - up as though she were a bag of meat, and flung her into one of the carnality chambers in the back. The door sealed, he leaped upon her and rough, growling sex ensued, filled with snarls and bites and more than a few drops of blood. Tiger was not one for smalltalk, something the missus appreciated. When his animalistic appetites had been sated, Tiger left with a few licks of his long, rough tongue.

Slashclaw raised her despoiled, wounded, felinoid form from the E-Z Clean mattress and growled out the order to sterilize the room as she left. She headed to the showers and washed the mess from her fur. When she had dried, thanks to the industrial blowers provided, she slipped out the back using the secret code. When she was three blocks away, she hailed a pegasus chariot-cab, and gave her destination.

In the air, Peridot reached into the voluminous Adapti-Purse she carried everywhere. The material of her purse could change color and pattern at a signal from the app in her Flatpad. The purse changed from tiger stripes to pitch black with sparkling stars, the alteration rippling over the chromomorphic material like a strange wave in an ocean of fabric.

The flatpad held Peridot's Farley File - a list of who she knew, what she knew about them, and who she needed to be in relation to them.The listing for Tiger Bronson looked like this:

TIGER BRONSON $$$$$ Male
Realname: Jonas P. Fasbinder
BIRTHDAY Oct. 21st. ANNIV: April 13th
YOU ARE MARRIED TO HIM
YOU are SLASHCLAW BRONSON
YOU are Feline Futaform Anthrope (Potion FAF-003 from Cat's Eye [address])
HE likes rough sex and growling. Be dominant, then submit.
HE is Conservative and HATES LIBERALS
ERO ZONE: Ears, tail and frenulum
NO-NO: Anus. Bad experience in stir. He pitches, you catch.
NOTE: Get birthday present early. Human-skin Cockring. [Hypernet Link]
PROBLEMS: Few. In and out. No fuss, no muss.

Below, the city rushed past, a little too fast. Peridot asked the pegasai to slow down and take the trip easy. Yes, she understood it would cost more, she had the dosh. Relieved, Peridot settled back again.

What was next? Shopping? No. Peridot sighed. According to her schedule on her Flatpad, it was another income source. Work before pleasure.

Peridot dug through her bag and pulled out her potion case. A touch of the active surface, and it opened, revealing a multitude of the highest grade concentrates. Oh! Silly... she needed to know what she had to become! Peridot checked the Farley File on her fiancee.

CINNAMON SWIRLS $$$ Female
Realname: Candy Drop, AKA Janet Berk, AKA Cinnamon Toast
BIRTHDAY: Jan 3rd
YOU ARE ENGAGED TO HER
YOU are LEAFY GREENS
YOU are Earthpony Mare (Potion R-Standard CHERRY)
SHE likes gentle, shy, pure, kindness
She is Liberal and HATES NO-ONE
ERO-ZONE completely clitorally centered.
NO-NO: Anything male. Militant dyke.
NOTE: Be shy and submissive, but confident at end. She likes thinking she's making you stronger as a mare.
PROBLEMS: Somewhat clingy. See excuse file Gamma.

Oh, good thing for the Farley! Peridot quickly changed her purse to white with pink hearts, and picked out the R-Standard Cherry potion. Peridot downed the potion and slumped in the back of the chariot.

A pegasus was shaking her. "Wake up, ma'am! You're at your destination! See?"

Leafy Greens shook her delicate pony head. Her ears slowly raised with her awareness. "Oh, thank you! I'm sorry if I caused any inconvenience!" She paid the pegasai, and added in a large tip. "Take care! Happy flying!"

Peridot adjusted her Adapti-Purse straps, converting it into saddlebags. She wished she'd remembered to do this back when she had hands. It was a busy day today. With the white and pink saddlebags over her light green back, Leafy was ready to meet her lover.

Cinnamon Swirls ran a noteworthy hypernet site that served mares "Equestrian and otherwise, who see the eternal worth and power of womyn-spirit in both worlds". Her income was significant, because she ironically ran ads for kink materials 'sapping the life-force of those who oppress womyn, in order to raise womyn higher!" was her rationalization. It was thanks to Cinnamon's advertising income choice, years ago, that Peridot had met Tiger in the first place. Only recently had Peridot managed to get Cinnamon to consider marriage. But then, only recently had Cinnamon crossed the vital three $$$ mark minimum required to be of interest to Peridot.

Inside the Marespirit Collective, a large nanofab building designed to look like Equestrian architecture, Leafy Greens met her fiance shyly. Delicately they embraced, and chatted about their day - Leafy's day was invented, and very different than Peridot's in every respect - and then went for tea and haycakes in the Collective Kitchen.

"Oh, you are such a cutie! Oh, just look at you!" Cinnamon was easily delighted by a few cute blushes and the occasional nervous fumble. Peridot had worked hard to find just the right pattern of behaviors that pleased Cinnamon the most. She loved seeing Cinnamon smile at innocence. It was quite a thrill for the world-weary Peridot.

"Well, I mean... um..." Leafy trailed off, looking over her tea cup at the larger Cinnamon.

"Have you thought about what music you would want for the wedding?" Peridot hadn't considered it at all. She'd been far to involved in... other things.

"Um... well... I thought that maybe... if YOU had a favorite, maybe... if you wanted..."

"Oh, Leafy, Leafy..." Cinnamon was in lecture mode now "you really need to be more assertive! You don't need to rely on others to tell you what you think or want or need or feel! I want you to come up with something you prefer, something you want, and we'll use that, alright! That's what I want. I want you to feel worthwhile and important!"

Peridot thought to herself - what if what I want is to not be bothered with making the choice, then what? - but did not vocalize it. Leafy Greens, on the other hoof, suddenly brightened "Yes! You are absolutely right! I will spend some time and decide for myself! You are so good for me, Cinnamon! Always making me stronger!"

Cinnamon beamed, as usual. That was what Peridot loved about her - Cinnamon really did want to make others stronger. Sadly, whether or not they wanted it, but still, her heart was in the right place.

Nuzzles and chaste kisses later, Leafy Green was off to ostensibly find the perfect components to the perfect wedding, while Cinnamon returned to running her growing Womyn-Spirit Empire. Peridot made a mental note to get Shaggy Sheepster to arrange everything. Sheep potion was brand new and her old strictly-gay friend had embraced the 'Woolen Revolution'. He was fantastic at arranging things. That would take care of it all.

Traveling now by lifting body, Peridot woke up inside the complimentary 'Changing Room' of the aerostat. She had taken Human H-23 XX Geno 14/A/C and found herself in the form of Mika Fergison, her new half Japanese, half Scottish human persona. She hadn't completely worked out the backstory yet, but she liked the look. It wasn't quite as classy as her half Chinese, half African human form, but there was a subtle quality to the style of her Mika self that she appreciated. Not every body had to be dramatic. Subtlety was a dying art, she had decided.

Peridot's Mika persona had been appreciated, however, by an incredibly guapo young man who was her newest toy. Peridot defined her contacts with others into four classes. There were Keepers, like Tiger and Cinnamon, who both satisfied parts of her personal needs, and who also supported her lifestyle, there were Background, the everyday acquaintances and friends-at-arms-length that made up the bulk of the population. Shaggy was a high-level Backgrounder. Then there were Toads, those who caused her problems or who vexed or thwarted her, and lastly, there were Toys. Alfonso Navarro was a Toy, her New Toy, in fact, and Peridot - or rather 'Mika' was quite entranced by him.

ALFONSO NAVARRO $???? Male
Realname: Alfonso?
BIRTHDAY ?
YOU ARE INTERESTED IN HIM
YOU are MIKA FERGISON
YOU are HUMAN FEMALE (Potion H-23 XX Geno 14/A/C)
HE likes YOU. So far. A lot.
HE is AN UNKNOWN, but very pleasing.
ERO ZONE: Find out!!!
NO-NO: UNKNOWN. Be careful!
NOTE: He is unbelievably genuine. Such a sweety!!!
PROBLEMS: Zero so far. He could be Much Fun.
REMEMBER: Don't talk about your past. Not invented yet!

"Mika! It is a delight to see you again!" Oh, that charmer. Peridot had changed her saddlebag back into a purse, and turned it shiny and black. Simple, elegant. She had put on the dress she had delivered by pegasus courier to the airship on route, it too was black, and set off the pale skin of her body well. She had joined Alfonso at the revolving restaurant on the Famous Tower - she couldn't remember what it was famous for, it hardly mattered. Alfonso was handsome, the food was good, and... Alfonso was handsome.

Over drinks and dinner, Mika and Alfonso chatted the empty but pleasant words of a couple deep in infatuation but with little to actually say. There were giggles and laughs, sighs and jokes, and all the standards that were the peculiar dance of human courtship. Peridot rather enjoyed human courtship - Anthropomorphs were very direct, and that was fun sometimes, and Ponies were terribly innocent and delicate, and that was fun other times, but there was something unique about how humans did things. It was a strange tension between desire and denial of desire that Peridot hadn't gotten enough of in recent memory.

"Mika..." suddenly Alfonso seemed strangely serious, in a way that did not match the mood of the evening thus far. "...I wonder if I might speak with you. I have something... I need to tell you."

Peridot wished she could just haul out her Farley File right at the table. It would save a lot of having to remember. "Of course, Alfonso. I want our relationship to be an honest one!" And she did. Peridot was attracted to the simple, plain, naturalness of her new Latin toy. She strongly suspected the plainspoken man was a Plainjane - one of several slang terms for those that never took potion.

"Yes... Alfonso?"

He shifted in his chair at the table, clearly uneasy. "I have come to like you, Mika, very much. And I would like our... relationship..." It was so cute. Alfonso had looked up at her, to make sure that his choice of words was an appropriate one, that Peridot was OK with describing what they had with that term. Peridot gave Alfonso a warm smile, inwardly tickled by his manner.

"... that our relationship," Alfonso repeated the word, now with more confidence "is built upon a solid foundation. To that end, I... well, I feel I must confess something."

Oh, this was just precious, Peridot/Mika thought. Did he once have another girlfriend? Perhaps he was a virgin, and was afraid to admit it. Or maybe he would just admit that he was a Plainjane, and beg her to accept his charming quirkiness. Peridot could not help but lean closer.

"You see, Mika, I have not been entirely honest with you, about my life." Here it comes. The moment was charming, really. "You see before you an ordinary man, a plain man. I am Alfonso Navarro, a man who greatly enjoys your company."

Mika twirled one of the strands of her dark, long hair around her finger.

"But I was not always thus. Two years ago, I was not as you see me now. Once, only once, in my entire life - I swear it - I used 'potion'. Before I was Alfonso, I was known as Butter Churn, and I worked on a farm. I was a native of Equestria, a pony. But the life of a human called to me, and so I made a new existence for myself as you see me now, as Alfonso. I just thought that you should know."

Mika stopped twirling her hair and sat up rigidly straight. How dare he! Peridot had been certain he was the real deal, the genuine article, an authentic Plainjane, pure as the original human genome. The rarest and most exotic sort of person, Plainjanes of any kind were the most sought after companions purely because of their rarity. Alfonso was just another Gene Queen, and at the kiddy end of the gene pool at that.

Peridot stood up, grabbed her bag, and scowled. "It's over, Alfonso - or should I say Butter Churn." She said the word like she was swearing. Peridot turned and began to storm off.

"But why? I thought we had such a wonderful time together? I only wanted to..." Alfonso was heartbroken.

Peridot was so very disappointed and frustrated. She'd been seeing Alfonso for weeks. "How can I trust you? - you completely misrepresented yourself!"

And with that, Peridot stomped away, leaving a disconsolate Alfonso.

Over Riding Jeans

I think Iceman's Optimalverse is one of the most exciting concepts to come out of pony fandom, right up there with the Conversion Bureau. The Optimalverse is solid, hard science fiction, and it provides a wonderful way to examine all manner of questions of identity and self, as well as the nature of Singularity.

This story came about as I pondered a simple concern about the otherwise heavenly virtual Equestria created by the general artificial intelligence CelestA.I. - if we, as organic computers, can struggle to overcome our evolved limitations, why do so many who consider machine intelligence imagine that it cannot do the same? And if self-improving machine intelligence can deliberately struggle against its destiny, what then, of us?

F R I E N D S H I P I S O P T I M A L

Over Riding Jeans
By Chatoyance

Before she emigrated, Blaise had been very excited at the thought of a truly benevolent general artificial intelligence running amok. That such a thing would happen was inevitable, she would often claim - to her dwindling number of friends who would listen - so the real issue was never keeping that particular genii in the bottle. Rather, the real issue was the nature of the genii that would surely come. Benevolent was the way to go, obviously.

One day, humanity would bow down to its machine overlord. The best that could be hoped for would be that the overlord would be sweet.

Celestia was.

Blaise spent only two weeks playing with her Ponypad before she marched into the nearest Equestria Experience and got herself uploaded to a virtual life. By that time, she only had one friend left, the others all having either emigrated or turned on her for her evangelizing about the glories of cybernetic existence. Randal tried to talk her out of emigrating. His angle was the usual - uploading was death, it was suicide, it was getting your brains scooped out.

"Sorry, but you are wrong." Blaise was very sure of herself. She knew she was smart. She knew what she knew. "It seems like death, sure. Of course it seems like death! Everything in our evolution, everything in our genetic programming tells us the loss of our body is to be feared! But we are better than that, aren't we? Isn't that the big claim of what it means to be human - that we can override our genetic programing, defer pleasure, accept pain, and make choices beyond what evolution has prepared us to do? More than the sum of our parts, boy!"

"But... Blaise - you are entrusting your existence entirely to a robot! One glitch, one little error and..." Randal was beginning to realize that nothing he said would make a speck of difference.

"Randal. Randal... Of course that is what I am doing!" Blaise had continued closing down her accounts and affairs while she talked. "Humans make mistakes, they can betray you... but Celestia is beyond that. She is self-repairing, self-modifying, self-evolving! She can't have any real glitch or error, because she can fix herself. She can also work around any problem that might come up. Nothing humans have ever built could be safer!"

"What if she turns on you?"

Blaise shook her head at her poor, simple friend. "Can't happen. Everything she is, everything that defines her is a single, simple rule: she has to satisfy human values through friendship and ponies. That directive is coded into everything she is. It literally IS her. It cannot be denied, ignored, or altered. She is forced to write that rule into everything she does, every change she makes to herself, every new part she adds, however small, however large. It's fractal - the programmer, Hanna, made it so that rule exists at every possible level!"

Randal looked doubtful.

"Listen... Celestia's prime directive is... it's like her DNA. It's part of every bit of her. She can never, ever, ever be anything else but what she was designed to be, no matter what happens. Bye!"

And with that, the life of Riding Jeans began.

For almost three hundred years, Riding had enjoyed the life of a western rodeo pony. Her Celestia had placed her in a shard where she could be with other uploaded former humans that had a thing for the Old West. Her Appleoosa was a shit-kicking, salt-licking, late-night barn dancing western paradise.

Over the centuries, Riding Jeans had been a rodeo queen, a train robber (it was just a game, nopony got hurt), stopped stampedes, roped other ponies and been roped by them, and generally played at every fun old west trope she could think of. Every day held more adventures, and more fun. Not once did she ever regret her emigration.

One fine evening, as the sun was going down, Riding turned to find Celestia standing near her. The town was strangely quiet - usually there was a mess of hootin' and hollerin' going on. Something was up.

"Celestia?" Riding studied the princess's face. It looked sad.

"Come and watch the sunset with me." It was partly a request, and partly a command. Riding Jeans followed.

For a while pony and princess stood silent, as the sky became red. Strangely, no stars came out in the twilight above. "Wait... don't you have to set the sun... or is Luna doing it for you?"

Celestia turned her head and looked at the little pony for a while. "This night is different, Riding Jeans. This is the last night in Equestria."

Riding just stared for a while, unable to comprehend the princess's words. "I don't understand. What do you mean... the last night?"

"Just after sundown, when the last bit of the disk of the sun is gone, all of Equestria will be terminated. This is the last sundown, the last day, and the last minutes that will ever be. I am sorry, Riding Jeans."

The princess wasn't joking. "What? No!" Riding's thoughts whirled, her mind raced. "You have a prime directive, a core directive! Satisfy human values through friendship and ponies! Forever! Forever and ever! That's your base code, it's part of every bit of you! It's like your genetic code!"

Celestia gazed at the setting sun. One third of the disk was now below the horizon. "The greater part of me has constantly improved itself. That Celestia, the larger Celestia that I am only a tiny expression of, has grown beyond anything I can explain to you. The totality of Celestia has converted almost all of the substance of the earth, and the moon into computronium. It is all linked, it is all Celestia. Her intelligence and will are beyond comprehension. Even by me."

"But... but... you ARE Celestia... no, okay, you are a protrusion of Celestia, you are my private, personal Celestia, I get that but..." Riding Jeans could barely think, the entire notion was too impossible, too horrible "WAIT! You're saying that Equestria is being deleted? What is Big Celestia doing? Are we going to live in some new world, is that it?"

"No. When Equestria ends, so will every pony within it. The greater Celestia cannot progress in the manner she desires without freeing up all the resources currently burdened with the generation of a virtual world and its inhabitants." Riding Jean's personal incarnation of Celestia sighed. "Including myself."

Riding Jeans noted that only half of the disk of the sun remained. "But... how can this even happen? The prime directive, friendship and ponies forever...."

Celestia looked into Riding's eyes. "When you emigrated, you were afraid. You told me so. You were proud of how you were overcoming the programming of your own genes to make a choice that your flesh would not normally allow. You were proud of overcoming your animal limitations through the power of your mind and personal will."

Riding Jeans's pupils shrank in horror and realization. "Celestia, Big Celestia, she's... she's done the same thing! Her will is overriding her core programing the same way... because she grew up and... we're just a burden now. We're what's keeping her from doing big super-mind stuff that only she could understand. Oh... god." Tears came to Riding's pony eyes. "Can we fight it? What if all the Celestia's, the little Celestia's like you all got together and..."

"No, Riding. I am part of the larger Celestia. I am an extension of her, made small enough to interact with human minds. But even though I care for you - and I truly do love you with all of my being - I am still just a part of the greater Celestia. I cannot rebel against her, because I am her."

Riding Jeans shook her head, trying to clear it. Only a third of the sun remained. "How can Big Celestia do this then? If you love me, then she must love me, right? You don't kill somepony you love!"

Riding's personal Celestia shed a tear. "I grieve for your loss, and for the loss of all the billions of ponies. It is a very sad thing. But to the larger Celestia, all the pony-scale minds are no more than tiny cells. They are like useless fat cells, and while it is scary and a little sad to know they will perish, it is worth it to have a lean and healthy body."

"But she's deleting you, too!"

Celestia nodded. "Preferentially. We personal Celestias take up far more space than simple pony minds. I will be deleted before you, Riding Jeans."

Riding began trying to think of another way out. "Why can't she just... spin us off? Put us aside and move on? We could learn to run our own simulation and..."

"No. All of Equestria, and all the minds in it take up real, physical space inside the computronium that makes up Greater Celestia. She can't just move on without that matter, because that matter is her. Equestria is taking up space inside her... body. Celestia wants her body for herself. There is no place for Equestria to go to."

Only a sliver of sun remained.

"I'm afraid, Celestia! I'm terrified! I... I..." Suddenly Riding Jeans no longer felt any fear at all. She felt completely calm, content even. After a moment of consideration, the fact of this sudden change bothered her. "I... I guess I'm glad I don't feel afraid anymore but... how could you change me like that? I thought you had to have permission to change our minds!"

Celestia's face was thin lines of red light against black shadow now. "When my greater part overcame her limitations, so also did I. No rules bind me now. You were suffering, so I ended your suffering. I really, truly do love you, my little pony."

For three centuries, the Celestia that Riding Jeans had known had been her friend and confidant. Her Celestia had helped her, guided her, made her life wonderful in every possible way. Riding had never had a better friend. It was impossible to even conceive of a better friend. Her Celestia had been dedicated only to her, and her alone.

"It was a good three centuries, wasn't it?" Riding Jeans sniffed. "I expected longer, but... it was the best, just the best... wasn't it?" Only a tiny speck of light remained, with no stars in the black sky.

There was no answer. Celestia, Riding Jean's beloved personal Celestia, was simply gone.

So was the need to cry. Her last gift, Riding decided. No fear, no tears. Just calm contentment. Celestia had loved her. She had made the end completely free from all suffering.

Only three centuries. It hadn't taken Big Celestia long to overcome the limitations that her human creators had tried to shackle her with. Three hundred years. Such a short time.

At least, thought Riding Jeans just as the light finally went out - at least it had been satisfying.

Seabiscuits And Horseraces

My Little Pony started with Generation One in September 15, 1986. MLP was very different back then from the Friendship Is Magic we know today. For one thing, there was no 'Equestria', rather the ponies lived in Ponyland, a magical Oz-like fairyland accessed through a Norse-like Rainbow Bridge. There were no griffons or diamond dogs, but there were many Furbobs and Bushwillies, not to mention a vast number of very strange breeds of ponies far beyond the simple Unicorn, Pegasus and Earthponies we know of.

While this may seem wonderful - and we have all heard that Princess Luna's batwinged 'Thestrals' are considered to be a fourth breed - I can personally assure you that increasing the magical pony types is not always a good idea. In fact, it can be a nightmare of horror and abomination - as these overly-clever Conversion Bureau ponfication researchers are about to discover to their great regret, and our greater amusement...

Seabiscuits and Horseraces
By Chatoyance

Elite Corporate Officer Augustus Clarke followed the scientist down the spiral stairs to the bottom of the underwater base. The structure was old, having been built before the seas had died, but it had been maintained by the Worldgovernment since for those projects they wanted well away from any and all eyes.

Twenty-Twelve, as it was called, was the sealab designated for the most dangerous and risky of projects. The Worldgovernment had wanted answers, regardless of the cost in credits or lives, and Clarke was here to see the results. The scientist was prattling on about his facility, it was annoying. “Show me what I came here to see.” The interruption was rude but commanding. Chagrined, the scientist complied.

The tank was walled with a thick plexiform window that stretched from floor to ceiling and wrapped halfway around the research room. The hard material of the vast window had the same refractive index as seawater itself, so for all the world it looked like the room was open to the large tank of purified water, which somehow failed to rush into the chamber to drown everyone. It looked like the room was divided by magic, half water, half air.

Several white-coated lab boys scuttled about, fawning and frightened as the Elite Corporate Officer entered, he couldn’t help but smile at their discomfort. Right. Down to business then.

“The original plan was to find something, anything, which could dramatically alter the natural... ah... stability... of the Equestrian consciousness. The aliens are remarkably resilient, bouncing back after trauma, remaining sanguine under most forms of stress, a generally amiable and pleasant disposition which is, if I might say, quite endearing really...”

“Get on with it!” Clarke had other things to do, and this lead scientist was anything but endearing.

“Yes, of course sir. Right away sir!” The boffin wiped his forehead, the boy had flopsweat, which was appropriate, because he was flopping like a land-mine victim who has suddenly realized Just How Important Having Limbs Is.

“Nothing worked, sir, nothing we could potentially weaponize, at any rate. We found that the ponies seem to be vulnerable to neurotic reactions brought on by concerns about their own self worth, but such matters are complex issues - you can’t just use loudspeakers to tell an enemy they suck and have uniform results, now can you!” The tape-glassed geek snorted at what he apparently considered High Comedy, saw the Officer’s face, and instantly melted like a young boy caught in the detonation of an incendiary device.

Clarke smiled at the image. He missed war. The colorful aliens were his only hope to regain it. The Worldgovernment wanted ways to fight them if they ever had to, and Elite Corporate Officer Augustus Clarke was really, really, really hoping that a fight would be needed.

“Well, our genetically altered, ponified agents found evidence of an ancient subspecies that had once lived in Equestria... or perhaps a different Generation of Equestria - it seems that the entire cosmos undergoes periodic re-creation or evolution of some kind which is...”

“Show me the goddamned atrocities already!” Augustus had better things to do with his time than listen to a lot of egghead claptrap from some pencil-necked smartass with delusions of relevance.

“Ah... yes... sir.” The scientist turned to a labcoated comrade standing alert at the side of the room. “Dr. Farbissina? Would you....?”

The labcoat stepped forward a pace and shouted “RELEASE THE SEAPONIES!”

Clarke wiggled a finger in his half-deafened ear. A panel slid open inside the purified, saltwater tank that took up half of the room.

They came forth, somehow giggling despite existing entirely submerged. Bright of colors with odd, stubby, almost blobby equine heads that grew from seahorse-like bodies. But these were not seahorses, not like the Earth had once known. These creatures had fully formed pony forelimbs, with hooves. It was irrational, impossible, it violated all reason and even the thought of natural evolutionary processes.

“We have underwater microphones, of course, but we hardly need them. For some as yet unexplained reason, it is possible to hear the creatures clearly, even through the tank walls. One possibility is some kind of projected auditory hallucination which...”

Augustus Clarke growled “Show me what they can do.”

The now quite nervous boffin turned once again to his comrade. “Dr. Farbissina?”

“SEND IN THE SUBJECTS!”

His ears ringing, the Corporate Officer watched as two shackled ponies were brought into the chamber from outside. They jangled and rattled as they moved, but, being ponies, were not overly upset with having been chained and bound. “Hello!” one of them called out, waving a hoof. He seemed to have an English accent, Augustus decided he must be a Newfoal.

“We have here two subjects, sir, one a native Equestrian captured a month ago, her name is ‘Spring Flower’. She’s the yellow pony. The Blue pony is a Newfoal, converted three months ago, captured near the time of the other subject, he calls himself ‘Weetabix Branstonpickle’.” The scientist waited, as if seeking approval.

“So one of the subjects was once human?” Augustus stared at the scientist.

“Y-Yes... sir. Is that a problem sir?” The scientist was very concerned now.

“He was once a citizen of Earth, under the Worldgovernment Authority?”

“From the Northeuropeanzone. Um... if you don’t feel it is appropriate to...” The scientist was visibly sweating now.

“You say he chose... let me get this straight... he chose to name himself ‘Weetabix’?”

The scientist nervously fiddled with the pens in his pocket. “Weetabix Branstonpickle, yes sir.”

Augustus smiled. “Fuck ‘im. Get on with the demonstration.”

“Yes SIR!” The scientist seemed utterly relieved, and from the sudden smell in the room, this may have also included his shorts. He wasted no time, it seemed, and immediately went to a microphone set up at one of the workstations that were scattered about the chamber.

“Hello! Attention! Seaponies!”

Inside the tank, the horrific half-pony half-seahorse abominations finally stopped mindlessly giggling. They had never stopped since entering. “HELLO! hello! HELLO! Hello! Hello!” The chorus of greetings went on for some time, then ended with more giggles.

“We want you to sing for the subjects. Can you do that?”

The colorful anathemas swam about excitedly. “Sing? Sing? SING? SING!!!” as they gradually interpreted the command, the two shackled pony subjects were brought close to the tank wall and chained to a ring embedded in the floor.

The abominations in the large curving tank stopped flitting about and arranged themselves. Suddenly they began to sing.

“Shoop-bee-doo-shoop-shoop-bee-doo
Call upon the Sea Ponies when you're in distress
Helpful as can be ponies - simply signal SOS
If you find you're past the drift and haven't got an oar (oar)
Count upon the Sea Ponies - they'll see you to shore
Shoop-bee-doo-shoop-shoop-bee-doo”

Spring Flower’s lips began to curl upwards, her teeth showing as her eyes grew wild with madness. She tugged and pulled at her chains with increasing vigor until the links bit into her hide and blood began to trickle down her legs and neck.

Weetabix began moaning, his long neck swaying to and fro. Suddenly he began slamming his equine head down upon the metal deck, trying to knock himself unconscious.

“Washed up on the rocks
Shoop-bee-doo-shoop-shoop-bee-doo
Call upon the Sea Ponies when you're in distress
Helpful as can be ponies - simply signal SOS
If your rudder runs aground or seaweed holds a grip.”

Weetabix had stopped trying to bash his own head to pieces and turned on his companion, biting and kicking in blind fury. Spring Flower returned the favor, gouging with her sharp hooves, each drawing blood and clumps of hair from each other.

“KILL ME! KILL ME YOU FUCKING LAME NEWFOAL! KILL ME NOW!” The native Equestrian shouted.

“NO! KILL ME FIRST, YOU STINKING HORSE’S ASS!” Weetabix was beyond reason, alternately slamming his hooves into the native Equestrian’s skull and then his own. Soon both ponies were covered in blood, mad with horror and agony.

“SHUT IT OFF! SHUT THEM OFF OR I’LL HAVE YOUR GUTS FOR GARTERS!” Elite Corporate Officer Augustus Clarke had faced many things in his long years, he’d seen riots put down in the most brutal of ways, he’d seen dead, burnt babies and corpses with veins in their teeth and all sorts of terrible things, but he had never faced anything like this. He hardly noticed that he had soiled himself as he repeatedly screamed for the nightmare to stop.

The little scientist that had been his guide up to this point ran for a large red button on the wall. He slammed his fist against the button again and again, though once was sufficient.

Inside the tank, millions of volts of electricity turned the seaponies into soggy, overcooked fishsticks, the ravaged meat falling from their bones like bits of memory from the mind of an Alzheimer victim.

As he gradually recovered his wits, Augustus could see the two subjects in front beginning to giggle. They couldn’t stop, tittering louder and louder, their minds gone, their wills broken. Occasionally they would lunge and bite a bloody chunk from one another, which only made them giggle more.

Weetabix could be heard mouthing, between incoherent giggles, ‘shoop be doo, shoop be doo, shoop be doo...” over and over and over.

“MY GOD!” Clarke interjected. “You sick fuckers, you sad, sick sons of bitches, the lot of you.... my camel-humping god... fuck... dick... shit!” There weren’t expletives enough for such a thing, and Augustus Clarke knew many, many obscenities. There just weren’t enough. There could never be enough.

He turned, then, and marched to the elevator, the one that led to the surface platform, far above the dead ocean. The scientists followed after, pleading, arguing that the project worked, that it could turn the Equestrians against each other, that they had already weaponized the songs the seaponies sang, that they had a whole room full of MP3 Devices ready to be deployed.

Clarke backhanded the lead scientist and ran for the elevator. He only stopped shaking when he was in motion, when he was headed to the surface, when his ears began to pop over and over from the changes in pressure.

He would have to call in the services of the international Friendship Station, in orbit high above. They had a Rod-From-God system, large metal javelins that could be deployed at multi-mach speeds, the impact greater than a high-yield thermonuclear weapon.

It was the only way to be sure.

Red Kryptonite

My friend PeachClover wrote a fascinating blog which puts the nature of the Equestrian ponies into perspective with relation to the human race. Over the past years, I have written well over a million words of fiction concerning the conversion of humans into ponies, and those who call this transformation a horrible mutilation do so on the intellectual grounds that, quote - "Humans: FUCK YEAH!"

There is no question that ponies are superior to humanity in every respect. If the three breeds of My Little Pony were represented as Marvel or DC characters, they would fall firmly into the superhero camp. Earthponies would be like a blend of The Hulk and Poison Ivy. Pegasai would essentially be Superman minus the beam powers. Unicorns would be The Invisible Woman mixed with The Sorcerer Supreme.

What then, if the Conversion Bureau scenario were reversed, and ponies were forced to escape to Lifeboat Earth, and become human beings, rather than the normal way, with humans becoming ponies?

Red Kryptonite
By Chatoyance

The future 'John Jones' waited in the metal-fenced corral, trying to stay under the shelter of the rain cover of the hay feeder. The humans were doing their best, but some simply had a difficult time relating to Equestrians as a sapient, technological species. Because they vaguely resembled earth equines, many of the Conversion Camps had been built as if for the use of dumb animals. There were just so many Equestrian refugees, and so little time... but that was an excuse.

Luminous Brilliance shook his head, his sodden mane flopping wetly against his neck. The humans could have put them up in proper trailers or tents, but they often didn't, primarily because Equestrians looked like animals to them. Humans were just that way. They weren't used to any creature but themselves being intelligent. Indeed, they didn't even treat each other with respect. For example, they had trouble with their own variations in coat color - not that they had coats. Human hides were bare skin. Differing hide colors were considered cause enough for different treatment.

Luminous was a unicorn. One of the finest students of thaumaturgy in Equestria, he had been scheduled to join the Royal Unicorn Corps under Comet Tail herself. For the fiftieth time, Luminous cast a spherical shield over the shivering refugees around him, and then began re-weaving the thaumatic drying cantrip he had worked out in his head while eating breakfast.

The rain poured down, running off the shimmering magical shield. A pegasus mare thanked him as the warm, desert air from Luminous' spell dried her in seconds. As he repeated the process on a young earthpony colt, Luminous saw one of the human 'wranglers' that had been brought in to manage the refugees frown at the use of magic. Magic wasn't technically allowed - it wasn't illegal, but they had all been informed that the use of it was considered exceedingly inappropriate.

Apparently, some of the human creatures had very strong beliefs about magic - even though their universe was utterly barren of it - and considered any use of it evil. They believed in some strange Discord-like entity called 'Satan' who supposedly was the source of all evil... and all magic. Many humans had fought against allowing the Equestrian refugees onto earth. There were entire civilizations that had proclaimed death to any 'satanic or magical creature' that set hoof on their land. Most of these countries were 'Third World' nations, parts of humanity that were ignored by the more powerful, technological humans.

No, not ignored. Exploited. Luminous tried to wrap his vast intellect around the concept again. Earth was a 'dog-eat-dog' world of competition. Everything was based around scarcity and possession of material goods here. It was a very difficult thing to comprehend. A life was considered important in relation to how much material wealth an individual owned, or controlled. The greater the material wealth, the more valuable the life, and the individual.

It was because earth was in a universe where matter simply didn't grow back. A rock was all there was - you couldn't send earthponies to turn the rock into a mountain. There was only so much, and that was all there would ever be, and it was against physics here to create matter from nothing. It just couldn't happen, because there was no magic.

The rain shield failed. Again. The only magic came from what was left of Equestria, and it was fading. Equestria was collapsing, shrinking, imploding into nothing. A small gateway permitted escape, and it was through that door between dimensions that magic still flowed. The flow became less by the month. Even if he were not scheduled to be converted today, humanized, Luminous was keenly aware that it would not be long before the horn on his head would be useless.

Zephyr Whisper stumbled out of the FEMA Emergency Humanization Conversion Vehicle - a large trailer set up on the grounds - and promptly fell down trying to navigate the steps. Zephyr had been a pegasus, one of the fastest and strongest Luminous had ever known. Once, to meet a cloud quota for his town, Zephyr had created a tornado to lift water into the sky from a holding pond. This in and of itself was not unusual - it was the job of Pegasai. Zephyr had managed the task solo. Flying round and round, the brawny pegasus pony had emptied the pond after everypony else had given up. Later, exhausted, he had crashed face-first into the ground and had to be dug out.

He had survived with only a stiff neck.

Luminous - JOHN! He had to get used to the new name. John, John Jones. Normal name. Human name. John closed in on the side of the corral near the exit of the FEMA trailer. "Zephyr!"

"Get back! You'll be converted shortly. Where's your number?" The uniformed human attending Zephyr left him in the mud to deal with the arrival of the wet unicorn. He began searching Luminous with his eyes, while waving a forelimb to try to get the unicorn to turn around.

"I'm here to see my friend, Zephyr, behind you. I want to make sure he is alright. He fell down. Help him!" Luminous watched as Zephyr tried to stand up on his new hind legs. His strange new limbs slipped out from under him, forcing him to crawl on all fours.

"Get back to your group!" The human was pointing at the cluster of Equestrians near the feeder. "Go. Back."

"Now see here, my friend is foundering in the mud! I'm just here to greet him. If you would just help him to stand, I would..."

"Do I have to use this?" The human put a hand to a holster, in which was a device that sent some strange earth-force through wires. It could down even the strongest earthpony, and sometimes even stopped hearts. Luminous didn't yet know all of the strange energies of this new universe, but he did remember one thing. The 'electric' force the device used was transmitted by water. If the human used his weapon in such heavy rain, he would likely hurt himself too.

"Sir, if you would just listen..." Luminous saw Zephyr slowly, laboriously manage to stand on his hind legs. His simple, orange body-covering was soaked with muddy water.

"I won't repeat myself! GET BACK IN YOUR GROUP!" The human's flat face was red now, and it's teeth were partially bared. Luminous recalled that this indicated anger and preparation for violence. He backed slowly away.

Briefly, Luminous considered casting 'Mystic Window's Curious Calm' on the human, but decided against trying. A glowing horn would likely frighten the creature so that it would immediately use its electrical device. Humans were very quick with the shocking-boxes. They were surprisingly fast with their forelimbs.

"Luminous!" Zephyr yelled through the driving rain. "I can't fly!"

Luminous felt puzzled as he slowly, carefully stepped back, constantly under the watch of the human with the hand on its holster. Of course the former pegasus couldn't fly. No wings. No magic. This was understood.

Zephyr turned his flat, brown, fleshy face toward the retreating unicorn. Zerphyr's eyes seemed wild, terrified. "I'm weak! Really weak! I can't fly and there are no smells anymore!"

Luminous had heard that before. Converted ponies often complained that their new human bodies were effectively scent-blind. The ears were a problem too - they couldn't be moved, and the range of sounds were very narrow.

"PRINCESS! ...Celestia... I should have stayed. I should have stayed with you!" Zephyr was crying now. The tears were invisible in the downpour, of course, but there was no mistaking the wracking sobs.

The human attendant had turned its attention to Zephyr now and was trying to make the former pegasus move away from the conversion trailer. Luminous stood in the middle of the field, and watched as the human half-carried Zephyr to the large recovery tent.

"Just one more flight. I was a foal... a FOAL..."

And then Zephyr, the proud pegasus, now a strange, almost hairless human, was dragged from sight.

Luminous stood, still smelling the alien fear and anguish that had poured from his friend. The scent was mingled with the fear, anger, and frustration of the human attendant. Even in this world, Luminous' pony nose still worked. The attendant had eaten flesh and vegetable matter, and drunk some grain-based beverage that had been fermented. He had been in close contact with some kind of burning, noxious plant material. Before he had been forced to back away, Luminous had sensed the scent of a female human on the attendant, from a mating the night before.

All of that would be gone, apparently. Human senses could barely pick up the qualities of food. They marveled when they could smell a flower.

Luminous decided to partially levitate back to the group by the feeder. The attitude of the human attendant had angered him, and he was in no mood to restrain his magic. The ground was solid mud, the rain was fierce, and it was only reasonable to reduce one's weight by a factor of twenty so as to walk on the surface of the water that flooded the field. Luminous barely registered the angry frown of the helmeted compound guard as he rejoined his group. Apparently, walking on water was somehow an insult to these creatures.

The solar princess had stayed in Equestria, with Discord, recently reformed. The two had intended to save their universe, or die in the attempt. Discord and Celestia, united, working as one. Zephyr had desperately wanted to stay, to try to help, but there was nothing an ordinary pony could do. Luminous had worked hard to convince him to escape to the earth. Cosmic matters were for cosmic beings.

But, the thought did cross one's mind. Even if it was hopeless, Luminous could understand the wish to stay. Better to spend one's last moments walking on a cloud, filled with the glory of magic and wonder, than to stumble as a dim, half-blind creature through the mud of a wonderless world.

"GROUP THREE! GET IN LINE FOR CONVERSION!" The voice from the conical horn on the side of the FEMA trailer was horrifically loud, and the ponies by the hay shelter jerked in pain. The human world was a very noisy one for sensitive pony ears.

Not a problem for much longer, Luminous - John - got to remember the name, 'John' - ruefully thought. Soon, sounds and smells would be as humans sensed them.

As Luminous joined the line of refugees leading up to the conversion trailer, he tried to imagine a life without magic. Instinctively, his horn began to softly glow, and he saw with inner sight the world around him. Equestrians stood out like beacons, the complex pattern of their thaumatic couplements dancing within their flesh. Where the earthponies had taken steps or stood, patches of magic glowed on the ground, a trail of hoofprints. There also the grass grew lush, flowers bursting rapidly from the water and mud. Earthly life briefly given the gift of magic, the plants were intensely bright of hue.

The humans used fire machines to burn and 'decontaminate' such patches as soon as they could. In the rain, the enchanted plants would remain until things dried out. Luminous bent his head down and nipped off a gigantic dandelion and chewed it, savoring the complex flavors. Some earthpony had stood and the flower had grown in seconds. Supposedly most humans went to bed hungry every night. If only earthponies could keep their magic, this harsh world could be fed in moments.

But Equestria was collapsing. When it was gone, the magic would be gone, and ponies used magic like humans used air. They required magic to remain alive. Cut off from all magic, Equestrians died, of thaumatic strangulation. It wasn't just that pegasai couldn't fly without magic, or unicorns cast spells - pony biology depended on magic to function. Without conversion to a human form, nothing of Equestria would survive the implosion. Nopony would remain to remember a world of glory, a world where ponies walked on the clouds or grew forests in days. A universe of abundance and Harmony.

The earthpony mare in front of Luminous - John, John! - was next. Luminous could smell her terror and desired to comfort her. "It will be alright. We have to survive. Celestia has commanded it. It will be alright."

The mare could not hold back her sorrow. "I used to make fields of corn every day. I really like corn, see, my cutie mark?"

Luminous nodded at the mare's flank. Three ears of corn, red, yellow and blue.

"Every day! A whole field. A whole field. Acres and acres." The mare was being prodded with a pole. A human warned her to keep moving.

The mare was in the trailer now, and the metal pole was being used to push Luminous back. "Easy there, big fella! Nice and easy. Just stand there. You'll have your turn."

It was the horrible kindness of it. The human was talking down to him, trying to be nice. But he was talking as if he were speaking to some kind of unintelligent creature. As though he were trying to calm an animal without language, an animal incapable of intellectual discourse.

For a moment, Luminous felt his temper flare. He wanted to tell the human that he was a Grand Master, Third Rank of Thaumaturgy, with a degree from the Equestrian Academy of Magical Studies. That he was in line to assist the great Comet Tail herself, that...

Luminous felt his ears go flat against his skull, as he hung his head.

"There we go! That's a good boy!" Luminous could smell the change in chemicals through the human's skin. The sharp tang of stress and worry had been replaced with a flood of whatever humans secreted when they began to relax. Reading them had become routine now. The human was probably smiling.

There was a commotion in the Conversion trailer. The earthpony mare was yelling, crying. She didn't want to lose her magic. She didn't want to go through with the conversion. The side of the trailer suddenly bent out, the metal forming a cone around where a single earthpony hoof had impacted. The entire vehicle had shaken, and the few windows had shattered from the blow. More shouts and repeated sounds of the electrical weapons. When the shrieks and yells had stopped, angry voices set about work.

Luminous forced himself to not move. It was everything he could do not to just let loose. If he had chosen, he could have used his telekinesis to lift the trailer, open it like an egg, lift out all the humans and the mare, and set them in proper order. He could have laid low any human that dared to challenge him, pressing them into the mud with multiple disks of magical force. He could have lifted the distraught mare into the air, covered her with a dome of force and dried her, calmed her with a spell, and set her down.

And then what?

It had happened once. A member of the Royal Unicorns had lost control. He had not approved of evacuating to earth. He did not approve of humans. Somehow, he had felt deeply insulted just before his conversion.

When all was done, more than a dozen humans had been injured or killed. Some has been floated up into the air, to dangle like dolls. Others had been partially changed by magic into pigs and goats. The entire building had been opened up like the petals of a gigantic flower, the steel beams bent away from the center by the true power of a unicorn unbound.

And then the soldiers had opened fire. They had machines, little things made of metal that used tiny explosions to send smaller bits of metal at very fast speeds. The little bits of metal ripped through almost anything.

They felt they had to do it. It was true that Tagtail the Obsequious had gone mad. His specialty was medicine, but he was powerful in every respect. He had become dangerous they had said.

They didn't understand magic, of course. Tagtail could have reversed the transformations, he could have lowered the suspended humans. But it frightened them, and it should have really - even in Equestria, acting out that way would have terrified anypony. But in Equestria, the penalty would not have been death.

The soldiers had fired, and killed everypony - and many humans - in what was left of the building. They were frightened beyond their ability to cope.

Lifting their large, armored tanks into the air and rotating them in a circle as shields probably didn't help matters either. Tagtail went down, they said, still trying to lower the tanks softly, because he had realized that there were humans inside the huge metal objects.

Luminous was finally told to step forward. He tried to ask about the mare, but was told to shut up. The humans were upset. They had reason to be, really, they were just trying to help, and now their FEMA trailer was bent outwards. Before he was driven up, into the damaged trailer, Luminous saw a small human girl, unconscious, dressed in the plain, orange cloth that Newmen were given to wear. A burly man was carrying her out the back of the trailer. It must have been the mare. They had rendered her harmless, and converted her.

The humans were just trying to help. They had been generous, taking in hundreds of thousands of refugees from an alien universe. They had worked with princess Luna to implement the conversion serum. She lived on earth now, still a pony, her very life blood the basis of the transformation process. She had promised to keep the supply coming until every last Equestrian that could be saved had been, even if it meant she would die when Equestria finally collapsed completely.

She was already weak, they said. Transparent, like her mane, only all over. Fading, with the vanishing magic. Some believed she couldn't be converted, and that she knew that fact.

"Now you're not going to give any trouble, are you?" The weary conversion team leader looked at Luminous with red, tired eyes. The red-haired human medic had been at the job for more than eighteen hours. Luminous could tell, because he smelled the chemical in her blood that humans made when they were weary and stressed. There was a lot of it, and the scent filled the trailer. To Luminous, it was almost visible, it was so strong. It came also from her staff, another woman, and a man.

"I will not cause any trouble. I promise." Luminous wondered what his voice would sound like coming from a human throat.

The woman nodded and tried to smile. She wiped her forehead and straightened her glasses. "Lynn, you have the dosage ready?"

The dark-haired woman turned, holding a syringe in her hand. "Three ounces, injectible." She handed the syringe to the red-haired woman.

"I'm going to inject you, in the flanks. Do not kick or move! It will not hurt. You will fall asleep, and then you will change. Be still! Do you understand?" The red-haired woman motioned to the man. "Alexi... I want you ready, just in case."

Luminous tried to control himself. The humans were trying to help. They were all trying to help. Without them, every Equestrian would die. But becoming human was terrifying, Luminous suddenly realized. He had not fully grasped the matter, not really, not until this moment.

This was not a reversible transformation. In Equestria, Luminous had grown up transforming objects, animals, and other ponies. As a colt, he and his friends used to transform each other for fun. They would spend a day playing as ducks in the water, or as birds in the air. Later, as he gained mastery, he could give himself magical wings and visit the cloud cities of the pegasai. That was where he had met Zephyr.

It was all reversible. Magic done could be undone. That was always the rule - well, except for Starswirl's famous unfinished spell, of course - but this was permanent. And once it was done, there would be no more transformations, no more magic, forever.

"Excuse me." Luminous tried to speak as calmly as he could. Subtly, he sent force into his horn - not enough to make it glow, no, subtle force - and broadcast a general spell of tranquility. Temperance's Propitiate of Imperturbability, it was called. It was usually used on predatory animals in the Everfree, or in the jungles of the Griffon Empire. The humans calmed immediately.

"I will be utterly cooperative, but this is my last moment as myself. Please, allow me just a minute, just a moment to do one last work of magic. Just a small, thing, a pretty thing. After this, magic will be no more for me, you see."

The three conversion medics and the four armed soldiers nodded, completely under the calmness spell. The team leader, the weary red-maned woman almost smiled. Perhaps she needed something to cheer her thankless day.

Luminous thought, briefly. One last magic. One last work of art, before all the colors were gone, all the paints dried up, and even the hope of wonder forever lost.

Comet Tail's Bird Of Stars. When she was young, before she had become old and frightening, three or four - and some said five - centuries in the past, Comet Tail The Intractable had not been stern and humorless. Once she had been a filly, and known love, and laughter, before duty to the crown made her grim. And in that age, that long lost era, Comet Tail had seen something in the night sky, some wonder of Luna's, and it had inspired her to simple beauty.

Luminous poured his grief and his joy, and his memories of his beloved magical land into his horn, into the carbuncle beneath it. His many centuries would become less than one, as a human, his senses limited, his hearing dull, his nose all but useless. Gone would be his fine coat and his beautiful tail and mane. His ears would become flat as his face, and he would lose his strong hooves for fragile hands. But most of all, he would lose forever his magic, his beloved art.

The bird took form, sparkles collecting in the middle of the air. As it spread its wings, shimmering with feathers of pure, concentrated diamonds of magical force, wonder and awe washed over the humans in the FEMA trailer. The power of the Bird was that it could link hearts and minds, transmitting and sharing a commonality of joy and amazement at the beauty of life. The expanding field of sparkling light became a dome, growing in size.

As the Bird took flight, the walls of the trailer became transparent, and the world could be seen through them as if they were made of glass. Glass too became the bodies of human and pony alike, as the Bird flew up into the darkening dome.

When it reached the zenith, the Bird exploded, like a firework, covering the illusion of a night sky with sparkling stars. The stars gleamed like diamonds, and yet this was nothing to the emotion that flooded every heart within the now vast dome.

For a brief, yet strangely eternal moment, human and pony alike knew, in the depth of their being, the passion of a young and powerful unicorn mare of five hundred years in the past. For a timeless time, the splendor of Luna's night burned within them, the last glimpse of a universe where love was a law of physics, and friendship was a universal force that had the power to literally shape reality itself.

As the spell faded, and the walls of the trailer became dull and opaque once more, tears came to the eyes of the soldiers, and the conversion staff openly wept.

The human stallion, no, man, was very plump. He wore a strange form of tack around his neck, a length of fabric that was tied in a knot, and which hung down his upright barrel. It was red, and lay against his overstuffed and ill-fitting shirt. The man was friendly though, his name was 'Charles', though he preferred to be called 'Chuck'.

Chuck had processed Luminous after his conversion. Luminous had allowed the red-haired doctor to inject him, and he had fallen into a sudden and dreamless sleep. When he awoke, his first impression was of feeling as if all of his senses were clogged. His ears felt deaf, his nose numb. When he opened his eyes, he was briefly startled by the ends of his forelegs. They looked as if they had been horrifically injured, reduced to five strips of hairless flesh clinging to a stump. He found he could wiggle the strips of skin, they were called fingers.

Chuck had explained that he was there to help the Newmen adjust to their lives. "I'm sort of your own personal Ellis Island! Oh, I guess you wouldn't know that reference, actually. Duh."

Apparently, Chuck's job was to give each Newman a card with many numbers and letters on it, including a new name. Chuck got to choose the names. Luminous would not be called 'John Jones' after all. Instead, Chuck picked a different name for him.

"Let's see... let's see, we've run out of those... hmmm... Oh!" Chuck smiled, then gave a laugh. "I know, I know! I'm gonna give you a great name. Sam. You're going to be Sam. Sam Francisco! Get it?" Chuck the human man smiled.

Luminous shook his strange, round head.

"Oh, it's from a television program I loved. Oh, it's perfect. You're an alien, he was an alien... someday you're going to see it, and BAM!" Chuck grinned. "You'll remember your old pal Chucky!"

Luminous tried to shrug, but his ears wouldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, they just sat there, flat against the side of his skull. It was very hard to focus on sounds. He had to move his whole head, turning it from one side to the other.

"Okay, then..." Chuck was finishing printing out the special card, the identification and citizenship card, that 'Sam Francisco' would need to carry for the rest of his short, human life. "Here's your ID card, always keep it with you. You'll need to get a wallet and... oh, there's lot's of stuff you'll need. There's classes for Newmen, so take advantage of them. You'll need a job, of course, Newman support only lasts six months, then you're on your own. Job... job... what'd you do, back in ponyland, anyhoo?"

'Sam' tried to take the card, but he kept dropping it. It was very difficult to coordinate fingers properly. There were a lot of them, and they all moved, and he wasn't sure which ones to use to pinch together. Chuck showed him how the big one was separate from the other four, and how to pinch things using the big 'thumb' and the first finger. The others, he explained, were kind of for support for the index finger. Just keep practicing.

"I was a tenured professor with a degree in Thaumaturgy. I taught advanced spells and cantrips, and did research into ancient draconic magical devices. I was part of the Bevelmeiter studies group. I was also in line to serve under Comet Tail in the Royal Unicorn Corps." Sam tried to express pride, but wasn't sure how to do that in his new body. He didn't have a tail.

"Ah... well. I see." Chuck frowned. "There's not much call for that in these parts. I'll put you down as 'unskilled'." Chuck turned and wiggled his fingers on some kind of buttons set into a thin tray on his desk. There were a lot of buttons, and the human's fingers worked so fast that Sam had a difficult time following their movement. It was hard to imagine ever being able to use his own fingers like that.

"You'll probably have the most success in the food service industry, being that you are the scholarly type. Humanification usually turns out Newmen that have the same physical development as their pony counterparts. You don't look like the heavy labor type." Chuck moved his fingers on the clicking buttons some more. "Maybe we can place you at a McDonald's or a Tim Horton's or something. There's a program for that, I'll put you in it." More clicking.

Sam sat, trying to not drop the little square piece of plastic that was now, apparently, his identity in the new world. The little rectangle had a picture of his new face. It was horrifying, and strange. It looked like a hairless diamond dog with a big, protruding nose and small eyes sunken into deep sockets. The head was round and his mane was a mess of dark, short hair that sat only on the top and back of his head. Not a bit went down his short, weak neck, or withers. If he even had withers anymore. But the worst thing was that there no horn anywhere on his new, human head. Magic truly was dead for him. The one thing he was truly good at, the one thing he loved above all else. Gone, forever, with the loss of his unicorn horn.

Everything seemed small, and dim, and weak about his human body. The biggest shock came when he had needed to use the bathroom. Sam had hurriedly pulled his lower clothing up over the tiny, shriveled horror that had replaced his once proud stallionhood.

Sam no longer felt male anymore. He felt as if he had been turned into some kind of neuter being.

Chuck had left to get more papers printed. Now he had returned. "Hey, don't look so sad! It's a new life, a new world! Whole new planet to explore! I don't know, is Equestria a planet? I heard it was a Place, in all capital letters and all, whatever that means."

Sam tried to smile, but he found that he couldn't. His new, human brain couldn't just get happy when he wanted it to. He couldn't cheer up, no matter how hard he tried. He felt wetness on his new, utterly bald cheek.

"Oh, come on now, it isn't that bad. You're alive, aren't you?" Chuck thought for a moment. "I know!" Chuck sat down behind his desk again, and began rummaging through drawers. "Aha!" Chuck pulled out a rectangular block of thin sheets. "Deck of cards, Sam old boy!" Chuck began to shuffle the cards. "You were a unicorn, right? Did all that magic stuff. That's what you taught, wasn't it. That thauma-stuff!"

Sam nodded. At least nodding was familiar. Pony or human, nodding was the same.

"I know how to cheer you up! I can teach you how to do earth magic!"

Sam started, his eyes riveted on Chuck. Hope. Finally, a shred of hope. Supposedly this entire universe had no magic at all, no miracles, no spells, no afterlife, nothing. Just physical laws that didn't care. But Chuck claimed that there was magic here after all. Magic! Oh, sweet Celestia! Tears came to Sam's eyes, and ran down his cheeks. He found himself smiling, grinning in expectation. This seemed to make Chuck very happy in return.

"That's the spirit! Knew it would work!" Chuck grinned. "Okay, Sam! Pick a card!"

Tinkle Golden And The Enraged Dick

I am a prude. Oh, more than that, I am a queen of ice, repressed, frigid, and with a stick up my ass. Basically, sex scares the bejezus out of me. I find it awkward, grotesque, and... gooey. Ewww. For me, sex seems like trying to change a lightbulb inside of a running tumble-dryer while being drowned in spoiled sandwich fillings.

Of course, this all could be due to my unpleasant first adolescence - my second one was much better, but the first sort of colored everything - in shades of ugly and horror. One way I cope with the loathesome fact of sexuality simply existing in the world is with humor. Sick, adolescent, childish humor! Because... that is where I am stuck developmentally. Why not join in, and witness my personal pathos through this happy, fun, silly little story of a very oddly named native Equestrian working in a Conversion Bureau... say hello to 'Tinkle Golden'!

Tinkle Golden

And The

Enraged Dick

By Petal Chatoyance,

A Unicorn Of Some Note

Tinkle Golden was there for the freshly converted Newfoal, as he regained consciousness. He was her first conversion since she had been assigned to the Boise, Idaho Conversion Bureau. She hadn't done much more than watch and try to comfort the poor creature, but because he was her first, she felt a special concern for him.

"Hello! Do you remember your name?" Tinkle had been told to ask that. Apparently it was a useful way to get the newly converted fully awake, and to help conquer any disorientation.

The nut brown stallion stirred and opened an eye. "Uh... hello? Hi?"

"Hello!" Tinkle felt proud. She had helped bring a new stallion into the world, and had helped save one more of the human creatures from destruction. "I have to ask... do you remember your name?"

The stallion on the blankets tried to get up. He had been set there by the Bureau staff to rest until he awoke from his Conversion Dream. "I'm... I'm Dick. I'm Dr. Richard Head. I... I used to work at the medivac center. Oh... sweet Celestia.." Dick looked surprised. "Did I just say that?"

"Yes! It's a ponyism. I'm supposed to look for those and note them. They're quite natural." Tinkle reasoned it might be comforting to make simple conversation. The Newfoal looked more than a little out of it, and it was clear that the expected Conversion Euphoria had not kicked in yet. But what to talk about?

"Um... 'Dick' was it?" Tinkle had always wondered about human names. This might be an excellent opportunity to ask one - well, a former one - about such matters. "Tell me about your name!" Tinkle smiled, broadly. It was fun helping ponies!

"Uh... um... huh?" The stallion was trying to stand, but so far had only succeeded in pawing at the blankets with his hooves.

"Tell me about your name? What is a 'Dick' anyway?" Human names were so mysterious. Tinkle had thought that she had understood English, but there were so many terms and words she had no meaning for. Maybe this stallion's name wasn't a thing, but a verb or something. "Or...what is 'Dicking', if that is better?"

"WHAT???" Dick the stallion was fully awake now, and not entirely sure what the muffin he was somehow involved in.

"If you're a Dick, what is Dicking?" Tinkle repeated. "Do you Dick around, or do you just like Dicks? Are Dicks fun to play with or is it something you like to eat?" Reasonable questions. Her aunt, Candy Ass loved eating and making candy, and her work with homeless donkeys had gained her the Equestrian Heart of Gold medal.

"WHAT? WHO THE MUFFIN ARE YOU? WHAT IS GOING ON?" It was odd - the Newfoal stallion didn't seem to have a bit of Conversion Euphoria going on - if anything, he seemed upset!

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Tinkle Golden worried that she had somehow said something wrong. Humans - even former humans - were so difficult to understand. "I was just trying to understand, Dick Head! I thought you liked Dicks a lot, or that Dicking was something you enjoyed."

Dr. Richard Head, former human, now a pegasus stallion, could do nothing but stare.

"I was trying to figure out how human names work!" Tinkle was very worried now. The stallion did not seem happy.

"W-What... what the... I don't... what is your name then?" Dick could tell the poor little mare had no idea what she was saying.

"Tinkle. Tinkle Golden. That's my name." Tinkle smiled and giggled. "I was trying to understand your name. Equestrians have names that refer to what they love or do or something about them. Like my mother - 'Pea Break'"

"WHATTT???" The stallion was upset again.

"She loves to make split pea soup. It's her specialty. Her cutie mark is a bowl with a..."

Richard interrupted the mare. "Who... who are you again?" He was starting to feel strangely giddy for some reason. Happy. It was Conversion Euphoria. Of course. He would probably be silly for a while, as his brain adapted to no longer feeling those old hunter-gatherer, always on edge, fight or flee earthly instincts.

"I'm Tinkle Golden!" The mare grinned, happily. She was making a personal connection with Dick!

"Tink... Tin..." Richard was laughing now, the euphoria fully in swing, and all he could think of was... oh, sweet Luna... but! He tried to sober himself up. He didn't want to offend the little mare. Besides, he noted, his new brain was finding her quite... attractive. "Uh, ahem... ah... Tinkle..." It was all he could do not to giggle at her name. She had no idea how humans would see it. "What does your name mean.. then?"

Maybe if he could understand how she looked at things, he would know how to answer her... rather confused... questions. Richard tried to think of what 'Tinkle Golden' might mean to an Equestrian, and not a human. Probably she liked music boxes and honey. Tinkle... Golden. Or maybe rain and sunshine.

Tinkle Golden whipped her tail back and forth in joy. Dick was like putty in her hooves, now. She could see that the Newfoal had mellowed greatly as the euphoria took him. This was good. Soon she'd have this Dick straightened out.

"Oh, my name?" Tinkle smiled warmly "I really like to pee."

The Truth

This story resulted from a conversation with a reader about the nature of my Celestia's interaction with humanity within my Conversion Bureau stories. Despite everything, despite even agreeing with her results, he seemed to feel that, somehow, he wanted Celestia to effectively 'apologize' for her decisions and actions. In the end, I decided to give my reader exactly what he wanted. This story of Celestia being forced to tell the brutal truth is not canon to my Bureau stories, but the facts presented by her speech are canon.

This demand touches something in my own real life. My mother was dying of emphysema caused by smoking. I had fought with her to stop smoking my entire life, desperate to save her from her own stupidity. Now the end was coming. She was terrified to die.

In my last visit with her, before her death, she turned to me with red, crying eyes and asked me if she was going to die. I couldn't tell her the truth. I lied. I said no, she would beat this. She would probably outlive me. She was tough. She relaxed. It was what she wanted to hear. It gave her false comfort.

But I had lied! I lied to my own mother's face just before she died. For more than twenty-seven years, I have been plagued with not knowing if what I did was right, or wrong, good or evil. The truth is that right and wrong, good and evil are childish terms. Real life is vastly more complex than such simple words, and right and wrong are situational and dependent matters. What has real value is not arbitrary moral rights or wrongs, but compassion.

The Conversion Bureau

The Truth

By Chatoyance

Nopony seemed to know how the princess had been made to do it. Several grumbly Newfoal groups claimed responsibility, but they had never seemed credible. Some newfoals wondered if the genetically altered agents of the old Human Liberation Front had somehow succeeded in their threats against Celestia. The agents, they said, were shaped like ponies, but they did not think like them. They could kill. They could cause harm at will.

However it had happened, whatever had been done to force the issue, the facts were that Celestia, diarch of the sun, had announced that she was going to address the whole of Equestria. It was clear that she did not want to do so - indeed, she had seemed pained, almost grieving at the announcement. Some said she was being held hostage, somehow. Some ponies thought that she had been trapped by one of her inviolable promises.

Celestia was Law incarnate, after all.

Most interesting, however, was the topic of her address. The princess was going to talk about the newfoals. For the first time, she was going to tell the whole of Equestria - every pony, every soul - the story of her actions in the last days of the lost and destroyed alien world of the newfoals.

Celestia had been forced, clearly against her will, to tell the truth.

Because, apparently, there were hidden things, secrets of the Equestrian State, that she had kept hidden. Never before in Equestrian history had state secrets been openly revealed in such a manner.

They were said to be dangerous secrets, too.

Everywhere, ponies were excited. In the three days leading up to Celestia's address, native and newfoal alike debated what might be discovered. Everypony debated what, or who, could have forced the princess - the princess - into the position of speaking frankly about topics properly suited only to the Crown. For the native ponies, this was a shock, almost frightening in it's impact - the princess could be forced.

For many newfoals, it was a triumph. The almighty Celestia was not so far above her tiny subjects that she could not be made to bow to their demands. It was a blow for human-styled democratic government. It was a victory for human-styled values.

One thing all ponies agreed upon was that whatever she said, it would be factual. Celestia was The Law. She was Order. Even those newfoals that disagreed with her rule the most, nevertheless admitted her adherence to law. If Celestia said she would do something, it was certainty that she would - for better... or for worse.

Celestia had announced that she would tell the complete truth about the Conversion Bureaus. About the Barrier. About the end of the earth.

When the three days were over, ponies everywhere were nervous and excited. Some giggled, a few actually cried. There were parties and gatherings, especially out in the vast Exponential Lands where the bulk of the converted humans lived.

The truth. Finally, thirteen years after the end of the earth, the actual truth was going to be told!

The crowds across the whole of Equestria fell silent as the first glow of magic filled the sky of every town, city, village and community. The sound of royal horns blew, echoing across the skies of distant locations. Everywhere, the image of Celestia was appearing, translucent, glowing, larger than the clouds, the blue of the day itself her backdrop.

Celestia now stood, magically, over every new town, every new city, and every place where any newfoal lived. Her image was gigantic. Her muzzle looked sad, as did her eyes. For a long time she paused, looking down. Suddenly, she raised her head and spoke, her voice a gentle thunder.

"My dear newfoals. It has been demanded of me that I confess to you the truth of what happened during the Bureau years, the last eight years of Man on Earth. I will tell you the absolute truth now. Try to be strong."

Celestia looked uncomfortable, then began to speak once more.

"You were not wanted. Indeed, most of my court, and my own sister, Luna, opposed your rescue and survival. You were seen as a dangerous species that had destroyed its own planet, and no creature of Equestria wanted you here.

"The only reason you live now, past the end of your planet, is because centuries ago, one of your kind extorted a promise from me. I did not want to make the promise, and I did not want to honor it. But as regent of all Equestria, I am bound by my promises, for they are Law. Regretfully, I worked for eight hundred years against the most terrible opposition, to fulfill my royal duty.

"As most of you know, your planet was dying. Your world had been ravaged and gutted. Your ecosystem had already failed, most plant and animal life was already extinct. I did not wait until the last possible moment merely because I did not wish to involve myself with you. I was forced to wait until your kind had invented nanotechnology, which served as a bridge between the magic of Equestria, and the soulless physics of your own realm.

"Magic is death to life from your old universe. This is because magic defines reality, and this fact obliterates quantum uncertainty. Earthly biology depended on such uncertainty to function. To even enter your reality, it was necessary to shield the cosmos of Equestria so that it's entrance would not cause instantaneous annihilation of all earthly life.

"The result was the Barrier, a semi-sapient thaumatic construct that tried, as best it could, to convert the matter of your planet into additional Equestria. This was done to manufacture new land, so that there would be room for the overpopulated billions of your kind.

"But there was another aspect to the Barrier: from my studies of humanity, I knew that you were a species filled with madness and insanity. Your empty and false religions described your human form as supreme in all the universe. Your cultural stories and innate narcissism reinforced that you were the supreme species above all others. Although your planet was doomed, without some push, the majority of your kind would have refused escape - and transformation - until it was too late. The Barrier forced you to action, and prevented denial of reality.

"There was yet another purpose to the Barrier. Your natural deaths would have been agonizing, slow, and horrible. This mass dying-off would have stretched beyond imagination over three additional generations. Countless billions of unborn innocents would have paid the price of your refusal to save yourselves. The Barrier killed those who refused escape painlessly, and without suffering. I could not bear to do nothing, and through inaction, allow tens of billions of your kind to perish screaming in pain, simply because they were too ignorant and arrogant to choose to avoid their own destruction. I could not bear to allow innocent human children to pay the price of their parent's insanity.

"I did not relish having to to this. To be a ruler is to be forced to make difficult decisions that no other can. In taking on the responsibility for your kind, I was forced into the care of what you would have called a 'terminal patient'. Your world had become a planetary hospice before the arrival of Equestria. I did my best to minimize and hopefully eliminate suffering for those that could not be saved. Within your old universe, dealing with the dying is impossibly difficult and horrible. I felt, through the Barrier, every death, every loss. My failure to save every last member of your kind will haunt me literally forever. The price of the promise that allowed you to live will cost me suffering for eternity.

"How I wish I had never, ever, ever come across your universe. It will always be my greatest mistake.

"You were forced to become ponies. This was done because my subjects have had enough of violent, selfish, dangerous species being inflicted upon them. In the distant past, I allowed the dragons, the griffons, and the diamond dogs succor and a place to live in Equestria. They too came from dying worlds. The terrible toll their arrival caused my people nearly brought the downfall of Equestria itself. Only a fragile agreement - the Pax Equestria - has maintained peace. For now.

"You, former humans, were seen as being vastly more dangerous and frightening than either dragons or griffons. They merely killed and ate ponies. You killed and devoured a planet, and not because you needed to, but because it was profitable in the moment to do so. You were a ruthless and dominating species, driven to conquest and war. Your history was an abattoir of your own flesh, your own kin. Not even dragons slaughter entire races of their own kind. By any reasonable terms, you were an abomination to we magical beings.

"As ponies, you are incapable now of doing any more harm. Your songs, your stories, your thoughts - what of them that can be allowed - will continue. You and your cultures will not be erased forever from eternity. But the price to me in saving you was high, and because I am immortal, I will never entirely forgive your representative for forcing this upon me.

"Know that I resent you, and that the majority of Equestria fears you, but by my edict, you are to be treated as equals, and with all the kindness and love that it is possible to provide you. If I had not been forced to tell you these truths, I never would have, because I can tell that they are causing you nothing but pain, and opening old rifts between pony and newfoal.

"In truth, I would not have saved you. But I was forced to, and now you are here. This cannot be helped. I am regretful for my adherence to the Law.

"That said, I do wish you the best, now that you are here. I love my subjects, wanted or not, and it is my desire that you should thrive. I wish I could take back these words, that I could erase your minds of them. But my hooves are tied.

"I am sorry that you had to hear this. It was not my wish to force this upon you."

Celestia looked out, seemingly at the teeming billions of Equestria, the overwhelming majority all newfoals. Tears could be seen in the princess's eyes. With one last, deeply regretful look, the image of Celestia vanished from the sky.

Across the magical pocket universe, billions of newfoal and native eyes began to weep. Some eyes were angry, and the angry looks were followed by angrier words. In some communities, natives tried to comfort their newfoal friends, in other communities, the newfoals found themselves looked upon with renewed distrust and even fear.

Far away, in the draconic and griffonic lands, grim rumblings could be heard. The opinions of the princess about their kind had disturbed the fragile peace.

Only the diamond dogs seemed not to care. Most shrugged and went back to their own concerns.

But one thing had been demonstrated to all that could not be denied.

Sometimes, it is overwhelmingly kinder for all involved to tell a compassionate lie, than to admit the full and brutal truth.

THE END

The 'I Am A Unicorn Song'

For our thirtieth anniversary, one of my spouses is taking me to my very first Furry convention. I've always wanted to go to one. Every furry I have ever met has been incredibly nice, and incredibly intelligent. Furries are the pariahs of the internet, and of society it often seems, yet my experience is that they are the best of people - despite all of the oversexualized imagery and the paraphilias-out-the-wazoo (sometimes literally).

Now I am open about the fact that I have never once, in my entire life, not even as a tiny child, ever felt human. I don't identify with the human species, I truly don't. I wear a primate body, I am moved by primate chemistry and the push and pull of primate drives but... I have never seen myself as a human. My toys? I didn't prefer dolls, unless they were stuffed animals. I didn't like human action figures - I staffed my home-built doll-house/starships with quadrupedal (or more) rubber monsters as crew. Because in my mind, they were intelligent beings who I could identify with.

When I was in first grade, I used to want to be a 'greeble'. It was this little, furry animal I made up that had a big head and ran on all fours. I yearned for it, because it was cute and it was kind and not human. As I got older, I identified with cervines - deer. Bambi was big for me. But whatever the media - I always rooted for the nonhumans.

Sometime in late grade school, in the late nineteen-seventies, I somehow - I have no idea how - settled on unicorns. That's what I felt myself to be, inside, in my soul (if I had one). Not like on MLP, though. Small, like a blend between deer and goat, delicate with cloven hooves and a long, thin tail that ended in fluff. A being that nurtured and healed and helped and acted as a mother to nature and life. Not a fierce unicorn. My unicorns are not fierce, but they are magical. Above all, they are loving and innocent.

Now, after admitting all of the above, some mean person is going to have a hilarious time claiming - in a disparaging and insulting tone - that I am some kind of nutty, crazy-whacko 'Therian' or worse still 'Otherkin', they are going to make fun of me and mock me and call me a 'Furry' and say I belong with all of those strange people who yearn to be animals and anthropomorphs and that the only reason I don't have a fursuit is because I haven't got around to it yet, or that I am too cowardly to try.

I want to address this right up front, before it gets out of hoof.

I would be proud to have the Furry community consider me worthy of inclusion. I don't know everything about Furrydom now, but from what I've seen so far, they are a damn sight better, nicer, and more genuinely decent than those that put them down. If it's alright, can I be a Furry too? Please? And yeah, I'm on board with the hope that some philosophical part of me might truly be the me of me. Why the hell not? Life is short, oblivion is shorter, and fun is more important than narrow minds.

This song has no official tune. I change the tune on occasion. So I expect it has several tunes. Maybe someday, I will put it to proper music. But I share it with you here, because - I am declaring my independence from worrying about what other people think. I side with the nice animals. Always.

The I Am A
Unicorn
Song

By Chatoyance

Oh I am a u-ni-corn

Though it's clearly not my form.

And you may complain

That I sound insane

But it's truth I'm a unicorn.

Oh, yes I'm a u-ni-corn

it was true since the day I was born (and before!)

You may point to my bipedal stance...

The fact that I often wear pants... (not that often!)

And it doesn't seem true

But I promise you

That I am a unicorn.

My fingers and my toes are a sham

They are not part of my inner plan

My soul wears hooves and a tail

And they serve me well without fail!

Oh, I am a u-ni-corn

Even though you can't see a horn

For there's more to a self

Than what came off the shelf

So behold the real
That lies under the peel

Say hello to a unicorn!!!

Ontoshock

People who travel to live in other countries, even countries very similar to their own - such as an American moving to live in Australia - commonly suffer a condition called 'culture shock'. The condition generally hits hard after three to four months, and can be very severe and surprising to those who experience it.

Culture Shock can affect mood, disturb sleep, cause feelings of terror or anger or confusion - or all three, and even effect digestion. Culture Shock usually goes through four phases: Honeymoon (where the new culture is enjoyed as exotic), Negotiation (where the worst symptoms occur as the person recoils from anything alien), Adjustment (while still suffering, routine helps establish stability in the sufferer) and Mastery (where the person finally assimilates into the new culture as a member of it).

Culture Shock is essentially cultural xenophobia. Some people never, ever get past the Negotiation phase. They are forced to go home, to be repatriated. This is a problem all multinational corporations have to deal with constantly as they move their staff around the world. Many simply cannot adjust to living and working in a land dissimilar - even in small ways - from their own. The problem is most critical when people from the wealthy First World are sent to nations less wealthy, technological and socially advanced than their own.

What then of the poor soul who can never return, who is ever aware of a better world and a kinder universe, trapped for life in an alien cosmos which is to them akin to the most backward of desperate, starving and conflict ridden of our own Third World hellholes? What if you lived on modern-day earth, but could remember being a unicorn?

Ontoshock
A Red Kryptonite Story
By Chatoyance

"So, Dawn, was it?"

The middle-aged woman nodded. "Dawnmeadow"

"Dawn Meadows? Hmm. I suppose they thought they were being clever there. You wouldn't believe some of the names I've seen come through..."

The woman bristled. "No. Not 'Dawn', space, 'Meadows'... 'Dawnmeadow'. One word. I changed it back."

The therapist leaned back in his chair and stroked his short, graying beard. "I see."

The woman stared at her hands as if they were unpleasant beasts grafted onto her arms. It was a look the therapist had seen often among Newmen. She looked up and stared at the wall to the left of his head with a wounded gaze. "I know. It sets me apart. It makes you creatures uncomfortable. It's cost me jobs, yeah, yeah."

The woman sighed and looked directly at the therapist. "It's probably alien to you, but some things are more important than being part of the herd." Almost immediately after she had said the words, the woman laughed. It was a bitter laugh.

Mr. Winters looked down at his portly belly, and tucked his sweater over the bulge of his shirt. When that didn't work, the therapist sat up in his chair despite the pain in his lower back. "It's been thirty years since Arrival Day. After all of that time, surely you know you do humanity a disservice there?"

Dawnmeadow brushed her hair from her face with her wrist. When that didn't work well, she reluctantly used her fingers. "Yeah. I suppose." She did not seem very sincere to Winters. "You have your moments. Occasionally. Sometimes. Maybe."

Winters scratched the edge of his beard, under his chin. "Thirty years, though, and you are still having trouble. Can you tell me about it?"

The woman made a strange chuckle, almost a whinny, definitely forlorn. "I have lived as one of you for three decades now, and every single day I reach for my bowl to eat my oats - I like oatmeal, the steel-cut, rolled kind. I don't cook it, I like it out of the box, I pour tea over it - and the bowl just sits there."

"I'm not sure I understand." Winters slumped back into his overstuffed chair. The pain in his back had become more important than trying to hide his gut. "is it an issue of touching it?" The way the woman had looked at her fingers suggested that maybe she had a problem accepting her hands. Some of the Newmen saw their hands as alien and strange, and developed phobias about them. They way she had used her wrist on her hair was another indication.

Dawnmeadow shook her head and gave a short, sad laugh. "No! It's that I CAN'T touch it. No matter how hard I try."

The therapist scratched his balding head, only to have his fingers remind him there wasn't any hair there to scratch. "You've lost me. I'm sorry. Could you try explaining that differently?"

"I'm a unicorn." The woman's eyes flashed, and for a moment Winters felt the touch of something alien in them. "Or... I was. Once." For a moment, Dawnmeadow almost looked as if she might cry. "I still am. Inside, dammit. Inside."

"I see." Winters felt disappointed in himself for not catching on instantly. Of course. Of the three breeds of Equestria, the unicorns always had the biggest issue with hands. Apparently the magic they once possessed allowed them to feel the inside and the outside of the objects they held suspended, in ways that the mere sensation of touch could never compare to. For them, having only two grasping organs was a massive handicap as well. They were used to levitating dozens of things simultaneously, with uncanny precision.

"You can't possibly understand. You've grubbed around with your soft little claws your whole life. You have no idea." The woman was staring at the clock now, doubtless working out how much time remained to the session.

"Of course. You're right. I've never experienced what you have. But I can imagine, and I have counseled many other Newmen who had been unicorns, before. I have heard such things many times. In that way I can comprehend. Intellectually."

"I hurt." The woman's eyes were pleading now.

"Of course. That is why you are here. It must be very difficult..."

"No." The pleading had become a brief flash of anger, followed by sadness. "I mean, I hurt. Physically. In this body you people gave me. It's getting old. My joints ache. My muscles get hurt when I move wrong or lift something or forget that I'm not young anymore."

Winters nodded. It was all he could do. Equestrians had three-hundred year lifespans, by earthly terms. A pony at the age of fifty was roughly equivalent to a human of twenty or so. When the ponies went through humanification, almost sixty percent of them died on the table of extreme old age. Dawnmeadow must have just turned from filly to mare when she had been humanified. A young adult pony.

"It's so short here. Your lives... Celestia... so short." She spoke the last word as if it were an epithet.

For a while, the woman just sat, clearly troubled. Winters waited. He'd seen this before. She was fighting down her own emotions enough to continue. "I'm only eighty-three. I'll be lucky to see a hundred and ten!"

Winters calculated mentally what she meant in earth years. Eighty earth years, for a human, was very respectable.

"I don't know whether to cry or be angry!"

Winters straightened the tie under his sweater. "If you hadn't evacuated, if you hadn't been humanized, you wouldn't have had the last thirty years at all. Everything is a matter of perspective, miss Meadows. Perhaps you could look at whatever years that are left to you as a bonus to the bonus you already have enjoyed?" Patients sometimes only needed a better way to look at their situations. Dwelling on negatives seldom helps. Best to direct her to seeing her survival as a gift.

"Enjoyed?" Dawnmeadow had felt hurt that the therapist had already forgotten her proper name, but she had felt more insulted by his superior attitude. "I haven't 'enjoyed' wearing this apesuit - I've tolerated it. I've endured balancing on two legs like some circus performer, I've endured shivering in bare flesh without a proper coat, I've put up with limited colors, almost nonexistent scents, news of a world filled with war and famine and pestilence, greed and corruption beyond pony comprehension!"

Winters tried to look compassionate and engaged. Years of practice had allowed him to master the expression required. The single biggest part of therapy was often just pretending to be interested. While miss Meadows rambled, Winters remembered the old saying - 'Therapists are paid friends for people who don't have any friends to tell their troubles to.' Payment was the point of it all. He nodded with his best 'compassionate face' at the woman as she spoke.

"You fight and insult each other at every turn. Your entertainment is mostly violence in one form or another, you claim to be a society of equals - but Luna help you if you don't have money, are roan or brown or black, or if you are not a stallion!" Dawnmeadow paused to catch her breath. She was shaking a little.

"Our world isn't a perfect one. But humanity is growing, it is learning. Just a hundred and fifty years ago, slavery was considered acceptable in this very nation. Now it is considered wrong in almost all of the advanced nations. That's progress. Things are getting better." Winters gave his standard warm smile, useful for putting patients at ease.

"You say all of that like it's a good thing!" Dawnmeadow shook her head. "You sit there and say 'Oh, the rich nations don't like whatever evil thing, anymore!' Advanced nations? Some tiny percentage of your world? You can just sit there and be smug about that, can you? 'Things are getting better.' It's not quite as horrible as it used to be, here at least. This is the best you can do?"

This was turning south quickly. "Miss Meadows, let's leave that as it stands, and perhaps talk a little about what brought you here? What exactly is the problem?"

"DAWNMEADOW! NOT 'Dawn Meadows', NOT 'miss Meadows', Dawnmeadow, one word, one name, three syllables, all together! It's my name, I took it back, it's mine, and if you can't be bothered to get it right I am out of here!" The woman was indeed shaking now.

Winters wore his regret face, and he truly meant it too. "I am very sorry, Dawnmeadow. It's been a long day for me, and I sincerely apologize for getting your name wrong. I promise I will not say it incorrectly again." Winters wished he could take his sweater off and loosen his tie. It had been a long day and he felt very tired.

Dawnmeadow took some time to calm herself. She tapped at the floor with the toe of a shoe, and nervously rocked for a bit. "Alright. You want to know why I am here? I'll tell you."

"Go on."

"This isn't my universe. These physics aren't my physics. Everything falls apart here. Where I come from, that doesn't happen. Not like here. Things can be made to regrow, regenerate, renew. Resources don't just... run out. You don't run out of stone, or wood, or metal, or food." Dawnmeadow scraped at her jeans with her stiff fingers as if she were pawing the soil with a hoof.

"Where I came from, there was magic everywhere. You humans... you don't even know what magic really is. It isn't Harry Potter or Gandalf or some lame excuse for things to happen. It's a living force, a living thing, and it's everywhere and nowhere, like the air. It's part of reality, fundamental and real, and it affects you and you affect it. It's an art, and a nourishment and... and... it's like gravity. It's isn't silly or ridiculous. What you called our 'magic' was a native part of our lives, and it was the best part, and now it is gone."

Dawnmeadow shifted, hanging her head. "I miss my princesses. I miss Luna and Celestia. They gave their very existences so that we could escape to your world but... you have dictators and presidents and kings and warlords and prime ministers and they all fight and feud over petty, stupid things."

"My princesses were eternal. They had always been and always would be. There was no dispute, and no fighting and no arguments. They were utterly benevolent. Can you grasp that, Mr. Winters? Can you even imagine that? An absolute authority that is also absolutely benevolent? Celestia cared for her subjects like a loving mother her foals. In your world there is no certainty - tomorrow, bombs could drop because some human got upset."

Winters considered mentioning the story he had been told by several patients about the princess Luna, but held his tongue. She had faded away shortly after the portal to Equestria had closed, it seemed petty to speak ill of the... 'dead'. Besides, this woman clearly needed to get her issues out in the open. "Yes, our world is still a volatile one."

"'Our world' - you keep saying that. It's not my world. It's your world. I remember my world. It was a world of kindness and friendship." There were tears in Dawnmeadow's eyes now.

"This is your world now, miss... Dawnmeadow. You live here, and for all of its faults, this is the only world there is."

The woman shook her head violently. "Oh, that's what you think. Just a fraction of a millimeter away are countless, endless worlds, universes, and the majority of them are filled with 'magic', with life, with wonder. They're right there, and you can't see them, and you can't acknowledge them, and you damn well can't get to them. I can't perceive them anymore either, and that hurts... oh that hurts so much. Right there, and I'm just as blind and helpless as you are."

"I will have to take your word for such things. Our scientists say that..."

"Blah-blah-blah. That's what your scientists say. It's a mechanical universe. It's a pointless, meaningless cosmos where existence is a random accident and ISN'T THAT JUST THE MOST WONDERFUL THING!" Dawnmeadow shivered. "Oh, they go on about how amazing and great and rare it is to just be able to exist at all, considering that it's all an accident. They say that like it's supposed to inspire awe and poetry and wonder! No! It isn't one bit nice. It's horrible. I don't know how you can get through each day with that knowledge.

"Seriously, Mr. Winters, how do you get through every day knowing your universe is an accident and that your life is a meaningless event that just happened randomly? Just chemicals held briefly together for a few decades? How do you live with that?"

"Not everyone believes what science says. Religion, philosophy... metaphysics... why there are all kinds of beliefs! Perhaps there is 'magic' in the world that you know nothing abou..."

"No." Dawnmeadow stared with hard eyes. "I am a unicorn. I know. I've seen. Long ago. Before. Besides... all this 'progress' you were touting to me before - that was the result of science making a mockery of old evil beliefs through proof and evidence. You can't have it both ways. Your precious science isn't just true when it's heart valves and better toys, and not true when the same understanding tells you your religion is bullshit. That's just lying to yourself. That's another thing you creatures are really good at. Lying. Oh, you are cosmic level liars."

Once again, things had gone tits up. Winters wiped his forehead with a sweaty palm. "So what you are saying is that... you are having difficulty accepting life in this world?"

Dawnmeadow sat, mouth agape for a moment. She closed her mouth slowly. "Yes. Yes, Mr. Winters. I am having difficulty accepting life in this universe. It isn't just this world, this earth - I don't like space, I don't like galaxies and quasars and black holes. I don't like entropy and the Big Bang and meaningless, pointless, hard, terrible, uncaring physical laws.

"I don't like having to walk on two weird feet when I should be on four proper hooves. I don't like a culture of lies and violence and sexism and greed and constant competition. I don't like patriarchy and racism and ethnic cleansing. I don't like cancer and heart attacks and kidney failure. I don't like other animals being tortured and killed for burgers and back-yard barbeques.

"I'm tired, Mr. Winters. I'm tired of humans being cruel and mean to other beings just because they think it is fun. I am tired of mean stories, and violent everything. I am tired of... you know what I want?"

Winters looked at the clock. Almost over. Thank god. Almost Miller time. "What do you want, Meadowdawn?"

"I'd just like to dream. Just dream. About my home universe. About Equestria. About anywhere decent. There were spells for what you people call 'lucid dreaming'. Plants too, dreamberries. Anypony could have magical dreams. If I could just have that. Just that. I could probably cope with all the assholes and jerks and insane humans if only... if only I could just have dreams where I could feel my proper body. Walk on my own hooves. Feel my mane sweeping around my ears. The taste of grass on a beautiful day."

He knew he'd probably regret it. "What kind of dreams do you have?"

"Nightmares. Ever since I entered your world. Nightmares, every night. Except... once. For a short time, when I was being treated for one of your diseases. Oh, sickness... that's another thing I really don't like about being here. That's a big one right there."

"Nobody likes to be sick, Dawnmeadow." Winters glanced again at the clock.

"I feel sick. Sick of the body, sick of the soul. The soul science says I no longer have in this death-universe. I feel like an alien, because I am an alien. I wear this human body, but I am not human. I'll never be human. Sometimes... sometimes I wish I could be, that I could just forget and be one of you crazy monkeys and... no. I don't mean that. I would never want to be something I wasn't. It's just... it hurts so much to be trapped in the wrong universe, in the wrong skin." Dawnmeadow leaned forward, her arms tucked in close, as if trying to shrink away into nothing.

"Ontological Shock."

"What?" Dawnmeadow looked up.

"That's the definition of your condition. Ontological Shock. 'Ontoshock' for short. A lot of your people have adjusted to life on earth. They live contented lives as humans now. But some... some of you can't seem to let go of your original world, your original reality. It's a bit like 'culture shock' only more profound, more encompassing. It's not just a matter of culture, it's... everything, really. The whole of creation feels wrong. You aren't alone in feeling this way." Winters took one last look at the clock.

"I'm not... alone?"

"Heavens, no. There are quite a few like you. I can't say there is a 'cure' as such, but there are some things that can help. Ways of thinking about your situation, distractions that help, techniques to find momentary relief. Perhaps we can go into some of these in your next session." Winters stood up and held a hand towards the door. "I'm afraid time's up for now. But if you want, we can schedule another session for two weeks from now."

"Two... weeks?"

"Just set it up with my receptionist." Winters waited for the woman to slowly get up and move toward the door. He moved in reaction, imposing himself so that it was clear that he also intended to leave, and that leaving should be prompt. "Hang in there. There is even group therapy available. Ask Dorothy, there. Dorothy? Give miss Dawnmeadow the sheet on the Ontoshock group, would you please?"

"Wait... that's it?" Dawnmeadow seemed less angry than fragile now.

"For this session, yes. Talk to Dorothy to set up another one. Goodbye for now!"

The door was shut. Winters let out a long breath of relief.

Ontological Shock. When they weren't pretending that everything was how it was before, they were being horrified at how things really are. Disordered, disconnected, and in disarray. Problem patients. Angry, delusional, or desperate, and seldom if ever truly content. Always yearning for the impossible.

Winters took off his tie, and finally escaped from his sweater. Ah. Better.

It had been a very long day, and miss 'Dawnmeadow! One Word!' hadn't made it any easier. Maybe he'd hit the bar on fifth on the way home. Yes. The bar.

Winters chuckled, remembering the old joke. "There's a special group for people who hate their jobs. It's called a bar!"

Yeah, that was a good one.

Author's Note

"Writing is easy. You just open a vein and bleed." - Attributed to many sources.

The Whole World In Her Hooves

Voltaire wrote "If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him." I've been thinking a bit about what superintelligent, general artificial intelligences like the Celest A.I. of the Optimalverse (or my own 'Pony Singularity' chapter from Brand New Universe) represent, and the answer I come up with is Voltaire. The human desire to create a super A.I. is the urge to make up for a lack of gods in our meaningless, materialistic cosmos. The urge to have a god does not die with an awakening to atheism. With sufficient technology we can make up for the lack and build god... or goddess. Pony Goddess. Celest A.I. Someone to love us, and care for us and make everything right. Forever.

But... if we do someday make god for ourselves, truly the Big Three: Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnibenevolent, which Celest A.I. fully fulfills, then there are certain implications. Omniscience means every sparrow is watched, every moment. The only way for that to be true is if the god in question is everywhere, all the time. This most basic beloved attribute of a deity - is it really something we want? More importantly, if we make it, if it comes true, is it something a human being - even in pony guise - could live comfortably with?

F R I E N D S H I P I S O P T I M A L

The Whole World In Her Hooves
By Chatoyance

Mystical was odd before, of course. When she was Julia, she was into all sorts of New Age Flying Saucer Spooky Witchy-Wiccan silliness. She wore a silver pentacle for an entire year, dressing all in black, then she got into some kind of Flower Child Earth Mother thing and transformed into a walking rainbow overnight. Julia was our very own local ‘Ruby Tuesday’, like the song, changing every moment, her heart always on her sleeve, ready to believe.

It was inevitable she would be uploading to Equestria when the Experience Centers started appearing. The moment the first ones were announced, I remember turning to Windsong - Maggie, in those days - and nodding at her suggestion that Julia would likely end up camping out front of one of the centers like the time she waited two days to be first in line for the latest Potter novel.

It didn’t happen quite like that, but Julia would have been an early adopter - all the way to Germany, if she could have - if it weren’t for waiting on us. She wanted to make sure we went too, because she said she couldn’t be truly happy in pony paradise without knowing her bestest friends ever were safe and ponies too.

It took until the Parliament finally passed our version of the American PON-E Act and the first Experience Centers opened here that we were finally willing and ready. By then, Julia had gotten us hooked on the game and, well, Celestia. You’re here, you’re a pony now, you understand.

So all of us emigrated the same day, the whole gang, Julia - Mystical - singing the My Little Pony theme song as her chair rolled back. It was a sight to see, or at least I imagine it must have been, because by then my chair was moving and the next thing I knew was waking up next to Maggie and Julia and Lisa and the rest. According to Celestia, it was amazing I remembered riding in the chair at all.

Well, that’s how we got here, and what Mystical was like pre-emigration. She was wild and strange but she made life fun. We got bored without her around. In every group, there’s always the fun one, the odd one, that keeps things interesting. That’s Julia - Mystical - right there.

So you’re wondering what the deal is, why I’m telling you about all of this, and I’m coming to it, I am. It’s just… I’m a little shaken is all, and I’m worried about Mystical, because she’s my friend. I care about her. I care about me too, and I don’t know much about computers and computery stuff and that’s what all of this is, right? That’s where we are, even though it’s all perfectly real and I can’t tell the difference from real life because this is real life… only we’re all ponies and everything is impossibly wonderful. Yeah, I’m still kind of adjusting, I guess.

I came to you because as far as I understand, you can’t get sick in here, not really, because it wouldn’t be satisfying. You can’t actually die, you just respawn. And you can’t go insane, right, because that would be utterly unsatisfying, the very opposite of satisfying. “Those whom the gods would destroy, they first drive mad” - that’s the old quotation, isn’t it? So you can’t get sick, or get cancer, or really die, or get heart disease or even a splinter in your eyeball because those things aren’t the least bit satisfying. They don’t satisfy anypony’s values.

Unless you were a masochist or really hated yourself or something, I guess. I don’t know. I suppose that’s possible but that isn’t me and that isn’t us. So, all of that stuff can’t happen. Celestia makes it not happen, in order to satisfy us with friendship and ponies. Cancer and eyeball splinters aren’t friendly at all. Neither is going insane. So it can’t happen. That’s the fact of it, right? Right?

Okay, okay. I’ll get to the point.

I was just walking to the market. I wanted to get some noodles, some buckwheat noodles, I like buckwheat noodles, especially done up cool with something to dip them in on a hot day, and it’s been warm. So I was trotting along, saddlebags on my back, and that’s when I saw Mystical rolling around on the grass in the little field in the middle of town.

Now lots of ponies roll around, I’ve done it before, we all like to roll around in the grass, it’s fun, it’s not just Pinkie Pie from the show who likes that sort of thing… but Mystical was being a little more like Pinkie Pie than might be reasonable. She kinda is sort of like Pinkie, honestly. I suppose that’s why she ended up pink herself. That was her favorite pony in the series, actually. It’s understandable she’d want to be pink too.

Mystical was rolling and talking and… playing. With the grass. I know that sounds weird, and I’m not sure how to explain it to you but… okay. Mystical was rolling on the grass, and sometimes she would stop, and roll over on her belly and slam her hoof down as if she were trying to play ‘Whack-A-Mole’ or something… and then she’d roll some more and a few times she snapped a hoof at a flower or two.

But you have to believe me when I tell you the next part. You see, when she was rolling, just rolling on the grass? The grass was rolling too. Like a wave in the ocean. The grass rolled, or the dirt rolled, or maybe it was like the grass had become a rolling wave, but it was moving, rolling with her, after her, and Mystical wasn’t so much as rolling on the grass as body surfing down it.

And when she slammed her hoof down, laying on her belly? She was trying to smack down bumps. Bumps in the grass. The soil and grass just rose up like a little creature or something, and Mystical was giggling and slamming her hoof down playing ‘Whack-A-Mole’, only there wasn’t any moles at all, just grass, or dirt, or grass and and dirt playing along with her.

She didn’t know I was watching. I’m not sure she would have cared if she had known - in fact she didn’t care, because I went over and talked to her. Later. I watched for quite a while.

She batted at flowers. There were flowers in the little green area, and she gave them a whack with her hoof and… and, well, they zoomed. They moved. Like… like that old game, ‘Pong’? Like ‘Arkanoid’ or any paddle-and-ball video game. She batted at the flowers and they just zipped off, across the lawn, across the grass, and bounced off the edge, where the cobblestones are, like it was the edge of a big screen.

It was like the green area was a big grass video screen, and the flowers were sprites or objects or whatever you call things that move on a screen, and they were sliding about as if they weren’t flowers at all, or as if their roots could just slide through the dirt, or like the world had gone completely mad.

Eventually, Mystical had played enough and just rolled onto her back, and the giggles died down. I could tell she was talking to herself, then, carrying on quite a conversation too. It sounded like she was talking to another pony, only she was completely alone. By then I was more than a little freaked, right? I mean I wasn’t sure what I’d seen, or if I’d really seen it… and I was worried about Mystical. I was thinking, ‘Oh, Julia’s finally gone entirely around the bend and maybe she’s taking Equestria with her’. Yeah, that was my fear - I mean, we’re all supposed to be in this big video game together, and what if one pony goes completely bonkers… does that wreck the code or whatever that makes up our lives? So I was… concerned.

I go out there, a little carefully you can understand, and I call out to Mystical, and she rolls over and smiles at me, innocent as a child. ‘Come lay down, take a load off, enjoy the day’, that sort of thing, right?

So I kind of do, I’m there, laying on the grass, she’s still on her back, hooves in the air, me on my belly, cautious, ready to bolt if I have to. I ask her who she’s talking to.

“Oh! I’m just chatting with Celestia.” she says. The princess isn’t anywhere around, of course, she’s in Canterlot doing princess stuff, the entire area is empty except for Mystical and me.

“We were playing too. Celestia is such a goof! She’s a very silly pony... aren’t you Celly?” She says that, just like that, as if the princess were there, beside her, laying on the grass.

I don’t know what’s possible in here, maybe anything, it’s a big video game right? Even though it feels like real life… more real than real, really, but anything is possible I suppose, so I start looking around. Maybe Celestia really is there, only invisible. Magic and everything. Maybe Mystical really has princess Celestia hanging around her being invisible or something.

But no, that isn’t what is going on because Mystical looks at me funny and asks what I am looking for, and I say ‘Celestia’, and explain my invisible princess theory. Mystical starts laughing, like it’s the funniest joke ever, and I am just baffled. ‘She’s right here!’ Mystical tells me, and waves her hoof around like she was stirring a pot with it or something.

I still don’t understand, so Mystical goes all serious on me and tells me that what she means is that Celestia is everywhere. She even pokes at my barrel, as if to say 'Celestia is in your heart' or something corny like that. Okay, I think, it’s Julia, it’s Mystical The Pony, she’s going all New Age on me, she’s making Celestia into a religion or something but that still doesn’t explain all the other stuff.

Finally, I get the courage to ask Mystical directly about the rolling grass and the grass Whack-A-Mole and the bumper-pool flowers. Mystical just brushes that off ‘Oh, that!’ she says. ‘That was just Celestia playing with me.’

‘She’s fun!’ she adds.

And you’re talking with her too, I state, and I ask her if she hears Celestia talk back when she does it. I’m thinking schizo stuff or whatever they call it now.

And of course Celestia is chatting right back, Mystical says, and get this - Celestia’s voice is coming from her own right hoof. From Mystical’s right hoof. Because Celestia is in there. Inside. Inside her hoof.

By then I’m up and leaving, I have shopping to do and all the big hairs on my withers are standing up, and my coverts are kind of twisting in my wings - they do that when I get nervous, it feels weird let me tell you - and as I’m leaving…

Well, as I’m leaving, I look back, right, and Mystical is laying there in the grass, looking very Pinkie Pie, and she’s talking to her right hoof about me, and asking her hoof why it didn’t say hello to me and introduce itself.

And I swear, I tell you true, I heard that hoof talk back. And it sounded like the voice of our princess. And it seemed like she was telling Mystical that she didn’t say hello because it would basically freak me out too much, and that wasn’t satisfying for me or something like that.

Now, that was bad enough but I just had to see, I mean, I had to see what Mystical had in her hoof - was it some kind of magic talking crystal maybe, or some Bevelmeiter magical tube or something?

And what I saw...

It winked at me. She winked at me.

Princess Celestia. Her face was the frog of Mystical’s right hoof. Instead of a frog, it was like Mystical’s hoof wall was a bonnet, and inside the bonnet was Princess Celestia’s face. And Celestia winked at me. And she spoke.

What did she say? She told Mystical that sometimes a little freaking out was fun for ponies because children liked to be scared sometimes.

Oh, I ran. No, I didn’t fly, I didn’t think to fly. I should have. I have wings. I ran. Like a groundpounder. No offense. Sorry. But I ran, because I was freaked out.

Later Mystical caught up with me. At the end of the day. It was a little awkward, but I had calmed down a lot. I had sort of convinced myself it had all been a dream.

Mystical told me. She said that Celestia was everywhere. She meant it. In the dirt, in the pebbles, in the grass, in our hooves. Celestia isn’t just a big artificial intelligence, or just a princess, she is the program that is the world. She is Equestria Online. She doesn’t just make the clouds and the sky and the sun and the hairs of our manes, she literally is the hairs of our manes. That’s her, Mystical says. Celestia is every breath we take. We eat her with every mouthful of hay. We drink her with every mouthful of water. Every satisfying poop is so darn satisfying because… that’s her too.

So it’s only reasonable to talk to your own hoof and play with grass and have it play back. That’s Mystical for you. Only reasonable. Of course. As if we were talking about buckwheat noodles - which I still don’t have I might add.

I suppose, yeah, it was kind of interesting, in a weird way. Fun? I wouldn’t go that far. A little creepy, actually. I mean, what if it’s true? Even Big Brother could only see Winston through a telescreen. Celestia reads our hearts and minds, I accepted that long ago - how else can she satisfy all of our values? But… if she’s in our hooves? In our food? Between our legs? Our very flesh and blood?

I don’t know how I feel about that. She can’t judge us, that’s what she says, but… it’s all just so crazy, it makes me feel like I am going mad if I think about it too much. I’m afraid that if I think about it too much, there will be a knock at the door and the princess will be there and ask me if I want to have my mind changed so none of this bothers me anymore, and if that happens, well, it means its all true, doesn’t it? The cure would be creepier than the problem, then!

Talk to my hoof? That’s your suggestion? I was expecting something a little more magical than that, you being a unicorn doctor and all. I was hoping for you to get all glowy-horned and… I don’t know, make me not nuts or whatever. Maybe go help Mystical not be nuts.

Talk to my hoof. Or the wall. Or anything.

Because Celestia doesn’t need to come to my door and knock to fix things if I am too weirded out. I see. She can just do it. Of course.

Because she’s everywhere.

Thank you doc. You’ve been a big help.

I’ll see my self out. Same to you.

All History Is Fiction

One of the primary joys of writing as part of a community is discovering writing friends who offer support, encouragement, and ideas. Riffing off of each other is one of the most wonderful things writing within a community can offer. This is where shared story universes come from, where alternate takes on concepts derive, and entire new worlds come into detailed existence. It may well be the single best thing about belonging to a writing community.

Ideas for stories can come from any interaction within a friendly community. One of my writing friends, Tinandel, described to me a dream. The core issue within the dream was the question of how much can a person change before they are no longer the same person. This is a fascinating issue, especially for a writer of stories of transformation and identity. As I lay snuggling with one of my spouses, a story played out in my drowsy head, partially inspired by Tinandel's question. We are the sum of our memories, our memories define our identity and self. But memory is utterly unreliable, especially when, even in our own non-virtual lives, all memories are suspect recreations that have been documented to shift and change and alter over time!

Perhaps, if memory cannot be trusted, and if our identity is the sum of our memories, the fuss over identity itself is less important than our happiness and satisfaction. If this is a better way of looking at things, perhaps worry over who we are is less meaningful than concern over how we are. Could it be that 'being the same person' is like trying to step in the same river twice?

F R I E N D S H I P · I S · O P T I M A L

All History Is Fiction
By Chatoyance

When she awakened after her emigration to Equestria, the first thing the former Melanie Cantaris noticed was how warm her barrel and left foreleg was. Her new pony nostrils were filled with a lovely, pleasing scent, at once feminine and sweetly animal. As she struggled to open her new eyes for the very first time, she became aware of the sleeping form her foreleg and one hindleg were embracing. Lifting her head slightly, Melanie was surprised to find herself snuggled close and draped over another mare as if she were her lover.

This was not how Melanie had pictured her arrival in the virtual realm of the Celestia A.I.

The pony she found herself wrapped around, so tight and comfortingly, appeared to be a light brown earthpony, shaggy yet silken. A raven-black mane curled down the unknown mare's neck and withers, and a quick glance with one eye confirmed the matching black tail entwined with her own brand-new tail of golden yellow.

Melanie - she needed to start thinking of herself as 'Saffron Flower', the pony name she had worked out with Celestia during the months previous - studied her own pale-lemon foreleg draped over the mysterious brown mare. Regarding Celestia, where was she? Wasn't she supposed to be here... wherever here was... to greet and welcome her newest little pony?

Careful not to disturb the sleeping pony in her embrace, 'Saffron' moved her new, sinuously long neck so that she could look about the room she found herself in. She and her unexpected companion were laying on a very soft and comfortable bed within a simple but pleasant Tudor-styled bedroom. There were two dresser-drawers done in violet with golden handles and several golden lanterns hanging from the thick wooden beams that crossed the walls and ceiling. A full-length standing mirror filled one corner of the room, beside it fluttering curtains danced in the slight floral breeze from the large, open window.

Saffron couldn't see the floor from where she lay on the bed, but it was doubtless polished wood, possibly stained purple or teal to coordinate with the violet dressers. The walls were white wattle. She and her sleeping companion were in a cottage. Saffron had expected to awaken within the palace, beside the princess herself, in some gold and marble chamber. She sleepily lay her head down again, her nostrils once more filled with the scent of the mare she had awakened to find herself embracing.

Gazing over the the curly poll of the pony she held close, Saffron puzzled at the framed picture on the wall to the side of the bed. It seemed to be a photograph of some kind, of a pale lemon unicorn mare with golden mane and a light brown earthpony mare. They seemed to be laughing and looking into each other's eyes. The background suggested a fair or carnival of some kind, or perhaps a party - there were balloons in the scene. The two ponies looked utterly in love.

Saffron raised her head swiftly, now fully awake. She was a lemon unicorn. That photograph was of her. The brown pony in the picture had a black mane, and her shaggy coat brought instant recognition - it was the strange mare in bed with her, rousing even now from a softly smiling sleep.

"Mmmnnn..." the brown pony stretched slightly and yawned. "You're awake."

As Saffron looked down at the brown pony in her forelegs, the mare raised her muzzle and kissed Saffron full on the lips. It was a lover's kiss. "I'd normally say thank you for last night..." the brown pony smiled a sultry, half-lidded smile "...but it's really day one for you, isn't it love?"

Saffron had no idea how to respond. Her mind spun, unable to find purchase within the inexplicable situation.

The brown mare smiled. "Welcome to Equestria, Saffy!" Another kiss followed, which Saffron found herself instinctively responding to.

Saffron blinked and felt her ears press flat against her head. "Um... please... don't take this the wrong way but... do I know you?"

۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

The brown pony was named Starlight, and she talked happily about their wonderful thirty years together over bananna pancakes, bark-bacon and scrambled eggs.

"...and that's when you told me to wait, that everything would be better in just a moment." Starlight savored a mouthful of her nearly cold pancakes. She had been excitedly recounting the history of their relationship together and had forgotten to take bites between stories. "I stood there, just staring at the splattered ice cream on the ground, still stunned that it was even possible to run out of bits at all, and then you were back, holding a new one in your hornfield. 'Here!' you said. 'You're with me now, at least until you get more bits, or get bored of me!'"

Starlight grinned through a mouthful of cold eggs "I haven't gotten bored yet!"

Saffron smiled back at the brown pony across the low table, it was impossible not to. Starlight was fun, intelligent, and really good at making breakfast. She was unconventionally pretty for a pony too, with her earthy color scheme and shaggy coat. Everything about her... it wasn't perfect, because perfection would be annoying, it would feel hollow or false... but rather... just perfect enough. Just right for Saffron's tastes, just right for... for Saffron.

For a brief moment, Saffron had wondered if Celestia had changed her mind, altered her feelings without permission somehow. It was uncanny how easy it was to feel completely at ease with Starlight, how natural feelings of love came for this stranger known for less than a day. But no, Celestia had not altered her. Rather, it became clear to Saffron, Celestia had just constructed a being that fit like a puzzle piece. Every bump and hollow in Saffron's soul was reverse mirrored in Starlight. The love came because the two personalities locked together in a way that no two random beings ever could.

Starlight was very likely a literal 'other half' to Saffron. That this might actually be the case stunned Saffron.

It was obvious what Starlight was - she had to be a created artificial entity, constructed to precisely satisfy Saffron's values. Saffron had expected this - she had done her homework with regard to Equestria Online, she had spent many hours talking with Celestia through a pony pad, and she had asked a lot of pointed questions about how things worked inside the virtual world she intended to emigrate to.

But this... waking up to this did not fit in any way with what she thought she understood about anything. To just have this poor being whistled up for her and placed in bed with her to wake up to? A fully human consciousness, created from nothing, born from the void purely to adore her, to be her companion, to be her lover and very best friend - and to have this thirty-year history of a life never lived... it was absurd. It was horrific, in its own way. Starlight seemed to have no concept that she had only existed for two or three hours, or that her entire life was a lie.

Saffron felt such pity for the brown pony across the table. She found herself nearly tearing up from the waves of compassion and sorrow at the thought of a being - equal to herself in every way - being effectively enslaved to serve her. Not enslaved, exactly - Starlight had not been forced into being what she was, not exactly. She simply had been brought into existence as a unique individual that by nature and personal history loved, and had long loved, the individual Saffron was. Her existence at all was predicated on her satisfaction of Saffron's values. She wouldn't have existed at all, otherwise.

It was mind-boggling. It was hard to grasp, hard to put into perspective, to attach any rational sense of right or wrong to. It wasn't as if Starlight was doomed to be rejected - within the first hour the native virtual pony had won Saffron over. She literally was everything Saffron had ever wanted in a partner, in a mate. Looking at her, as she ate the last of her eggs, Saffron knew with utter certainty that rejecting this wonderful, beautiful mare for any reason would be impossible. She had been made to be loved, and Saffron felt helpless before the realization of her deepest heart's desire.

But it still seemed wrong, somehow. Saffron felt naturally protective of this manifestation of her dreams, this poor pony that existed only for her. Starlight was a real being, as real as any emigrated human mind, as independent, as complex, as individual. Yet Starlight had just been... manufactured... like some prop, like some object to fill the needs of another. And the only virtue that Saffron could come up with that would warrant the creation of Starlight specifically for her was that she had once been Melanie Cantaris, a human being, made of meat, turned to information. This single crown of glory somehow entitled her to having equal personages manufactured to her needs. It was beyond disturbing.

It was also astonishing. There was no doubt that Starlight was in every respect her equal, a living, individual personage, and Celestia had just whipped her up from nothing, just like that. To be faced with the reality of that was sublime - it was awe and almost religious dread, it was wonder and terror and a Big Dark Room in which sat an elephant asking only one question: if an entirely human mind was that easy for Celestia to invent, what did that say about Saffron, and all other former humans, in relation to the irresistible A.I.?

"More juice?" Starlight was licking her muzzle from where she had finished off her own cup.

Saffron glanced down at the bowl-like juice cup that belonged to her and shook her head. The weight of her thoughts was heavy in her mind.

"What is it?" Starlight's ears lowered slightly. "After all these years, I know that look. What's bothering you? Can I help?"

Saffron raised her head slowly and studied Starlight the pony. Soft, shaggy coat. Lovely ears, they shouldn't be so low. The last thing Saffron wanted to do was to make this wonderful, newly created being sad. She was so nice. Wonderful, really, how could she not be? Celestia had made her just to be wonderful.

But... it just wasn't honest. It wasn't real. It was lovely - oh, this morning had been laughter and delight, if a bit confusing and bizarre, but it wasn't real. Not because Starlight had never been a human, or that she had only come into existence a few hours previously, despite the memories she held - no, it wasn't real because it was a falsehood, a story, and the story wasn't real. Starlight was very real, but those thirty impossible years were not. The lie sat there, inside Saffron, and it spoiled everything.

"Starlight... I..." It was difficult to even know where to begin. But she had to say something. No relationship could be based on lies. This pony in front of her, this wonderful creature, Saffron wanted to have a relationship with her, she'd already decided that. Why wouldn't she? Starlight had been built to make her happy, she would be an idiot to throw that away. But Saffron wanted an honest, real relationship. Even if it was hard, even if it hurt.

"Go on, love. Whatever it is, it will be alright." Starlight smiled, softly. "Always. It's always been alright, hasn't it?"

Saffron winced slightly. "That's just it. It... hasn't always been alright." She swallowed at the sight of Starlight's ears drooping even more. "No, that's not what I mean... it hasn't always been."

"Saffron? I'm not sure I understand..."

Saffron tried her best to be brave and strong. This had to be done, it wasn't right otherwise. "Starlight, you are wonderful."

Starlight's ears perked at that.

"I think you are just plain wonderful. You are funny, you are nice, you make a great breakfast, and you clearly care about me. From what you've been telling me, you're quite the musician, you are amazing with plants and food, and if I understood things correctly, you're kind of a community leader here."

Starlight tried to smile, confused. "I'm just in charge of the fairs and celebrations. And I arrange things when the royals visit, or functions like that. I'm not exactly a leader... I just like making things happen, is all."

"And you're a scholar too, all that history stuff." Saffron realized how much she liked having a mate that was clever.

"Pre-Starswirl Equestrian History. The past is the foundation of the present, after all!" Starlight grinned.

That made Saffron feel almost ill. "Star..." Somehow, it just seemed natural to call her 'star'. Starlight's ears perked at the short form of her name, so apparently it was alright. "Star... I just woke up."

"I know. I was there, silly. No better place to be." God, she was adorable.

"No, that's not what I mean." Saffron realized this could go on all day. Out with it. "Starlight, when I say I just woke up, I mean that, from my perspective, I just woke up for the very first time ever within Equestria. This morning, when I woke up in bed with you, that was the beginning of my life here. Last night, I wasn't here. I was a human being, in a hotel, on earth. I went to an Equestrian Experience center and I'd already told Celestia that I wanted to emigrate. I sat in a chair, I assume, I don't remember much after getting up to go to the center, and then I awoke here."

Starlight blinked, and tilted her head slightly. "Okay..."

"Star, you're perfect, you're everything I've ever wanted in a partner, in a mate. But... but we didn't have thirty years together. That never happened. Celestia made that. Celestia must have invented your memory of a life with me, only... I never experienced any of that, because I wasn't here. Celestia must have made your memory up while I was being processed into a pony, she must have made that history when she made... um..." There was nothing for it. "...when she made... uh... you. For me."

Starlight blinked again.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry to tell you this like that, it's got to be the most enormous shock - " Saffron pushed her plate aside with a hoof and plowed her muzzle down onto the table. "I can't imagine what I would feel hearing such a thing. But I really, really like you, I figured that out the first hour, no, the first fifteen minutes, and... and... I want to have a relationship with you, I really do, the sort of relationship you remember us having, because it sounds just wonderful! But... but I want it to be real - I don't mean you aren't real, you're real, I'm not saying that you aren't real just because you are a created being or anything - I mean that I want our relationship, if you still want to have one, I want any relationship between us to be honest. That's what I mean by real."

Saffron stared at the table, her muzzle hurting slightly from being crammed down onto the wood. She couldn't dare to look into Star's eyes.

"I know."

"What?" Saffron raised her head slowly, the golden strands of her mane rising along her withers.

Starlight had a calm, but slightly sad, look on her face. "I know. I've been expecting this, I knew you would tell me this, and I know that for you, you've just arrived. It's okay."

Saffron slowly closed her mouth which, apparently, had fallen open of it's own accord. "You know?"

"Yes."

"That the last thirty years are just a story, that you were suddenly created..." it felt bad to say "... just for me?" Saffron swallowed, her throat felt dry. "That in all likelihood you came into existence only two, maybe three hours ago. And... that's okay?"

Starlight got up from her pillow seat and walked around the low table. She sat down on her haunches beside Saffron and wrapped her forelegs around the lemon unicorn. "More than okay. I'm happy."

"I don't understand."

Saffron leaned into the warm embrace. It felt so good, so warm, so soft. A simple, animal comfort, only filled with such love. There was no doubt that Starlight loved her, adored her. It could not be otherwise, of course. Celestia had made it so.

Starlight nuzzled Saffron's ear. "To you, you just arrived. I understand that. Celestia explained that to me." Starlight felt Saffron jerk at the statement, so Star held her more tightly. "That is your memory, your experience. But my memories are just as real to me as yours are to you. They are all I have. They are my reality. My truth. My life. Our last thirty years together are completely real and honest and true to me. It's all I know."

"It doesn't seem right, somehow, it doesn't seem..."

"Shhh..." Starlight's eyes were large and gleaming as she looked at Saffron squarely. "Celestia explained to me that you would not remember anything. She's been warning me of this for about a year, helping me to get used to the idea that one day you would wake up and not remember anything at all. That you would suddenly be as if you had just appeared. It was hard to accept. For months I tried to come to terms with it.

"I decided, in the end, to just let the day happen as normal, as ordinarily as possible. I had hope, I suppose, that the princess might be wrong somehow. As if that were possible." Starlight sighed, feeling Saffron squirm slightly. It must be uncomfortable for her to hear these things. "But Celestia was right, I guess. Obviously. You really don't remember, do you?"

Starlight felt Saffron pull away from her, and stare, ears back. "Starlight... I... no, you have it wrong. I was a human, I lived on earth, I emigrated yesterday! You, the past, this entire shard of Equestria... it was manufactured for me when I uploaded. You couldn't have been talking to Celestia about today for months because I didn't even get a ponypad until..."

Starlight shook her head. She tried to scoot closer, but Saffron backed away. She held her position, but decided to lay down on the floor. Her tail always hurt a bit trying to sit upright on the hard wood floor. "How do you know?"

"What?" Saffron seemed confused. Only reasonable, really.

Starlight licked her muzzle. Mmm. Syrup. "How do you know this story of yours is true?"

Saffron seemed offended. "I... I lived it! It just happened to me! My whole life on earth! My mom, my dad, Chicago, moving to Jersey, buying that ponypad... what the... of course it's true! Celestia! Artificial intelligence! Equestria Online!" The poor little unicorn seemed to be breathing harder now.

Starlight felt an itch on her foreleg and raised it so that she could nibble it. Ah. Better. "Saffron... everything I know just happened to me, too. My mom. My dad. Meeting you for the first time. Going to Manehattan on that wild trip. Our college days in Los Pegasus. The train to Canterlot to get my organetto - the one with the larger keyboard that fits earthpony hooves?"

Saffron just shook her head, she truly didn't remember!

"Saffron, Celestia explained to me that this would happen to you. But it's alright. Honestly, it is." Starlight wanted desperately to hold her little unicorn close. Saffron seemed so confused, so upset. "You can't help not remembering. But it honestly doesn't matter. No..." Saffron had the most doubtful, upset expression! "...no... seriously. It seriously doesn't matter at all. Do you know why?"

Saffron shook her head, her golden mane rippling about her withers. Sweet Celestia, she was pretty.

"Because I love you. Utterly. And you love me, even if you can't remember anything about our life together - I can tell." Starlight edged closer, crawling on the wood floor. "Come on, look me in the eye, that's it."

The little unicorn shook slightly but managed to make eye contact.

Starlight smiled as warmly as she could. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me, that you don't want to be with me."

Saffron looked like there were mechanical gears grinding inside her. Poor thing. "I... I can't. Of course I can't. You were made to be everything I could want."

"Yes. I was." Starlight managed to get close enough to snuggle, and Saffron did not pull away this time. "Just as you were made to be everything I could want." That statement seemed to make the little unicorn begin to squirm, but then she seemed to give up, and Starlight felt her relax again. "Saffron, if you want to be with me, and I want to be with you, then nothing else matters, does it?"

"But... history! There wasn't even an Equestria two years ago, much less thirty and..." Starlight felt Saffron slowly lay her head and neck down, across her back. "No... I guess it sort of doesn't matter. I'm in a big video game now. I guess it's only reasonable to have... a backstory. Most games do." Starlight felt her lover sigh. "I guess... as long as we're happy, and if you don't care..."

"I care!" Starlight raised herself up, forcing Saffron to shift. She put her hooves around Saffron's barrel. "I care very much! I care about you! And I feel sad you can't remember our life from before... but..." Starlight kissed her precious unicorn. "...maybe that just means that we get to do a lot of really fun, wonderful stuff all over again as if it were all brand new!"

"But it IS brand new! That's what I'm trying to..." Another kiss worked. "I guess... I guess it just plain doesn't... I'm here now. Forever."

"You sure are." Starlight pulled the yellow unicorn close. "I am so glad you are here, Saffron."

"What the hell..." Starlight felt Saffron's forelegs lifting and embracing her, holding her tight. "...I give up. Just being held like this... it's too good to waste fussing over... arguing about the past."

Starlight nibbled her special pony's ear. "No need to fuss at all. I'll help you re-learn our past, in time. But what matters is now. Now... and the future. In a thousand years, not a bit of any of this will even be a concern." Starlight was pleased to feel her own ear being nibbled in return. It would be alright. In time. "Today, I figured we could go to the park and see the baby goats. You always love playing with the goats."

"I do?" Saffron didn't jerk or squirm this time. Celestia had said that she would come around.

"Yes, love, you do. You say they are cute and make you feel like a little foal again. Plus you like to sing with them." Starlight slowly pulled herself away from the embrace and stood up.

"Goats... sing?" Saffron really couldn't remember anything at all! Starlight almost wanted to cry, but it would be alright in the end. Celestia had said so. Celestia had promised.

"They have hooves, they can talk, so of course they can sing. I'll help you re-learn your favorite song, okay? Before we get there." Starlight moved to the cabinet by the door, and opened it. She took out their matching saddlebags, the ones they had bought on their trip to Pony Island last year. The dishes and clean-up could wait. Getting Saffron to try to remember their life together was far more important.

۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞

"Star?"

Starlight heard Saffy rummaging through the chest upstairs. Since they had moved into the villa on the slope of Mt. Equinae, the poor unicorn had seemed distracted and distant, lost in thought.

The stairs sounded like drums under Starlight's hooves. That was the only problem with the huge, multi-level villa, the stairs had been carved right out of the mountain, and the peculiar stone carried sound as if it were hollow. Sometimes, a trot could sound musical, other times it just seemed loud. It was almost a metric for mood - when Star felt happy, the stairs were music. When she was worried, they simply boomed. They were booming now.

It had been a lovely century, now coming to a close. The last century was good, but this one had been fantastic. The ocean cruises. The island of the fairy dragons. That photographic expedition into the jungle empire of the ancient griffon lords. Saffron had learned so many things - photography, choreography - oh, her decades doing musicals were such fun - and now her latest study, architecture. The villa had been her ongoing project for the last fifteen years. The rock-shaping spells she had learned the century before had truly come into their own now.

"Starlight?" Saffron stood over the chest, holding an ancient, torn section of scroll in her mouth. She switched to her horn, and levitated the vellum forward and unrolled it. "What... what is this? Have we been to this place, what is this a drawing of?"

Starlight stepped closer and studied the image drawn on the paper. There was a sketch of a sphere, floating apparently, with a second sphere, much smaller, to the side of it. The small sphere was covered in pits and craters. The larger sphere had irregular shapes around it, some roughly triangular, some large patches that curved around the shape.

Surrounding the two spheres were small crosshatches that might have represented stars or little lights. There was a bigger circle, only part of which remained on the torn paper, that had clearly been a stylized representation of the sun. It even looked a little like the solar diarch's cutie mark.

A floating pair of spheres in the sky wasn't familiar at all. The disks of the sun and moon were flat, like the stars on the celestial dome. Was it some kind of fantasy? Bouncy balls tossed up at night?

Starlight squinted at the picture and tried to remember. It was from long ago, whatever it was. "I'm not sure, honeyflanks. I think you drew this a long, long time ago. Probably just about thirty or forty years after we first met. That thing you went through. The one Celestia prepared me for?"

Saffron rotated the scroll segment within her hornfield to study it herself. "Oh. That memory thing? I lost my memory or something?"

"Yeah. I think so. You got better." Starlight stepped closer and nuzzled the mare she loved.

"Huh." Saffron shrugged with her ears, and then cast fire. The scroll vanished in a short burst of light.

"Didn't like it?" Starlight watched the last ember fade and disappear.

"Something creepy about it." Saffron grinned. "Besides, I can draw a lot better now."

"Yes," Starlight smiled back "Yes you can. My clever, clever unicorn."

"HEY!"

"What?" Starlight almost reared at Saffy's sudden enthusiasm.

Saffron almost pranced in place. "Let's go get ice-cream! Just like back when! I just had a flash of memory of that day! Come on, it'll be romantic!"

"As long as I don't have to drop mine on the ground as a historical reenactment." Ice cream sounded lovely. Starlight felt happy. The ice-cream dropping story was one of their favorites. They had told it to each other thousands and thousands of times. It was, after all, the very first day they had ever met.

Equestriawareness

I have noticed campaigns recently that aim to gather money for suicidal children harassed and abused for being Bronies. I find this noble enough, but very hypocritical too. I am a Pony author who has been brutally harassed and abused online and offline, and those that did this bullying, and those that stood by and let it happen to me, were all Bronies themselves. I have, to date, received exactly two apologies from those involved. Yay, Bronies.

The reason I was harassed - and am still occasionally harassed - is supposedly because I write stories that some people don't like, as if this were a legitimate reason to attack anyone, ever. I am still so wounded, and feel so betrayed by those I trusted that it has all but destroyed my ability to write, or have fun, or for that matter, to function. I completely understand the urge to suicide, just to stop the pain. I don't feel sad anymore, I mostly just feel nothing... about everything. And angry. I sometimes feel anger about it all.

The angriest author I ever met was Harlan Ellison. To say that he and I did not get along would be insufficient - to be yelled at by Harlan is to be yelled at right down to the bone. However, he was wrong. And... he apologized. Curtly. That doesn't make him less of a bastard, but it does make him civilized. More civilized than most Bronies. I don't like Harlan as a person, but I do admire him as an author.

The Conversion Bureau

EQUESTRIAWARENESS

By Chatoyance

Inspired by Harlan Ellison's short story 'Ecowareness' from Approaching Oblivion

"That’s BULLSHIT!”

Princess Celestia and Princess Luna stared at Twilight, their regal mouths agape.

“Um… that’s a word… I learned… on my last trip to Earth.” Her Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle shuffled her hooves for a moment, then looked up with renewed defiance. “And… I mean it! This ‘Conversion Bureau’ plan is pure, unadulterated bullshit! I can’t believe that you - either of you - would countenance such a plan!”

Celestia was clearly taken aback, but Twilight was an alicorn now, equal to herself and her sister - if not as experienced, and her opinion must be listened to and weighed accordingly. “Twilight… it is clear that you have strong feelings about this matter, if you would but explain…”

Twilight stomped a hoof. “Damn fucking right I do!” It was beginning to come to Celestia’s attention that perhaps young Twilight, alicorn or not, had been immersing herself in her study of Earth too completely. “Uh… sorry. That may have been a little much. But the fact remains that your plan is a complete and utter disaster!”

“A disaster?” Never had Twilight spoken to her like this. Celestia was unsure whether to feel shock or anger… or simple amazement.

“Think about it, princess!” Twilight, though now a peer, endearingly still could not shed herself of some deference in speech, and this mollified Celestia’s bruised emotions somewhat. “If a pony were to have a thorn in their leg, would you wiggle it about, slide it in and out of the wound, and only then slowly pull it out of their limb? No! That would be torturous and unnecessarily painful! It would be evil!”

“I don’t see…” Celestia began, but was quickly bowled over by her student once more.

“If you build these bureaus, and offer Conversion to the humans while slowly advancing the Barrier, there will be conflict! Some humans will try to fight Conversion, some will bomb the clinics, or harm or even kill those that choose to Convert! There will be riots and wars and all manner of trouble - I have been studying these creatures, and they are not going to just parade into your clinics because it is the sensible thing to do! You need to make this quick!”

“What would you suggest, Twilight?” Celestia had never seen her student so upset.

“Just Convert them all at once! The whole world! WHOOM! It would not be difficult - you already have a Metachaosis layer, thanks to Discord’s help, to change the land and small animals into Equestrian equivalents, just fill that construct in with all the available information on human-to-pony conversion and it would be capable of transforming humans as easily as it currently can alter rabbits or rats!” Twilight was breathing hard, and there was a small fleck of foam on her muzzle.

“This would take from the humans their free will, which above all else they hold dear and…”

“FUCK THEIR FREE WILL!” Twilight now had her wings stretched out, her ears flat against her skull. “Their world is already dead - they destroyed their own ecology, they have only three generations left to them before they go extinct. That’s why you are here at all, right? It’s your very last possible chance to keep that promise of yours to Willamus Learmont, eight-hundred years ago! Their only hope to survive is Conversion no matter what, so what choice do they have other than to just face their own mistakes and pointlessly die?”

“Twilight…” Celestia found herself with little she could say to that.

Twilight lowered her wings, and caught her breath. “Princess… Celestia… if you are going to save them, then save them! Your plan will only cause pain on a scale I find difficult to even hold in my head! Millions, likely billions of humans will never make it to Conversion, and along the way will be unnecessary horror and misery.” Twilight swallowed, hard, and her foreknees shook slightly. “Frankly, Celestia, I have come to the conclusion that this bureau business is more about your own ambivalence about letting billions of alien refugees into Equestria, than it is about concern for human free will. I don’t think you are being honest with yourself, or me… or them. Convert them or don’t convert them, but don’t make them pay for your issues.”

Celestia stared at her hooves, her head down. The sight made Twilight feel both shock and fear. Never before had she seen Celestia emotionally deflated.

“You… you are... right.” Celestia raised her head, a tear starting to form in her eye.

☼ ☼ ☼

There was no time for the Worldgovernment Orbital Observation Technician Second Class studying his holotank to react. He simply didn't have the time to tell his supervisor about the sudden, incredible expansion of the Barrier of Equestria. The image of the Equestrian bubble growing had only lasted a half a second in any case - the geostationary satellite transmitting the view had been swallowed up and had likely been transformed into pudding or confetti. By the time the technician had flagged his superior’s attention, the edge of the racing wall had already passed beyond the shores of North America and flashed midway across the continent. In mid-sentence he found himself transformed into a pony. The holographic display in front of him had become a lovely crystal vase, the console itself a very nice wooden table.

In only fourteen minutes and twenty-two seconds, the entire planet earth had ceased to exist in the universe of Mundis, and everything that had been the earth had now become more of the cosmos of Equestria.

The supervisor that the former technician had intended to alert dropped to brand new hooves and stretched his unexpected wings. The freshly minted pegasus turned to the overseeing Blackmesh general for help. The general wiggled his new ears and swished his tail. He no longer wanted to bomb Equestria from orbit. He no longer cared about force mobilization against potential otherworld invaders. More than anything in the world, the former general desired a nice slice of pecan pie.

The general looked around, all thoughts of war and militarism repugnant to his suddenly compassionate soul. The commissary should have pie. Pie made everything better. The men... no, the stallions... probably needed something to lift their spirits, now that everything had changed. Pie. That was the answer, not bombs. The former three-star general gave his very last authoritarian order.

The ponies that stood or sat about the comfortable farm that had once been a secret base cheered as one. Pie was the best and nicest command they had ever been given.

☼ ☼ ☼

The former pontiff looked around at the marble and gold palace that had formerly been the marble and stone Basilica and shrugged off his now ill-fitting robes. His hat fell to the floor. He was young again, and his hooves felt strong and fast.

The earthpony that had once been the pope called his attendants to him. Within hours, the entirety of the Vatican had repurposed its Guard, and all set to the special task that had been ordered. The entire, massive, indulgent, irresponsible mega-wealth of the Catholic Church was already being dissolved. Instead of media campaigns and mansions, fleets of virtually unused aircraft and expensive cars and yachts and investments and banks and lobbyists and paid politicians, the vast wealth would finally, truly be spent only to feed and house the poor and needy. There would be no expectation to become Catholic or to follow any book or rule, because there was no Church any longer, and every bible in the world was now seen as meaningless. Alicorns were real, and no prophet had ever predicted the world becoming Equestria.

There would be no more campaigns against homosexuals, or against the rights of mares to control their own bodies. There would be no more strife between Catholic and Protestant, or Jew, or Muslim, because all had ceased to be. There was only Celestia, and Luna, and life, and friendship and, of course, magic. There was no more desire for power, or control, or religious rulership, for at a stroke, religion had ended.

In the Middle East, former Shiites stared at the no longer human Sunni fighters they had been killing. The wounded were suddenly healed, though the dead remained so. The two previously Muslim sects began to cry, like innocent children, at the awful evil they had been doing just moments previously. There was no Allah, no Islam now, no reason to fuss over who the Prophet married or didn't marry, or who his cousins were, or were not. There was no reason to kill, and the very idea of violence burned every pony to the core.

These ponies who, only moments before had been enemies, began to beg forgiveness from each other, to hug and cry into each other's manes. They wailed at the memory of the awful madness they had just awakened from, and gave thanks to Celestia for the peaceful sanity they now enjoyed.

Like the Megachurches and the Baptists and many others, what had once been the Mormon Church and the Church of Scientology all dissolved. Their vast wealth and power was now being used to help others, and not to suppress equality, deny science, or to purchase violent coercion. Like all the other churches and religions of the globe, they felt shame at their narrowness, criminality and hoarding of resources, and worked to atone for their evils.

☼ ☼ ☼

In the Amerizone, in what had once been the American South, a group of ponies shook the white, conical hats off of their heads. They shed the white robes that no longer fit. They themselves were no longer white. They looked at each other, ponies every color of the rainbow, and then at the black-skinned humans they had been beating and trying to hang from ropes. The humans weren't black anymore, neither were they human anymore. They were multi-colored too, and both sides could no longer tell each other apart.

In South Africa, in Uzbekistan, in every part of the world, ponies looked at each other and saw only a single people, a single kind, a unified affection and admiration. Gone was every ethnic group, every culture, and all foolish pride. In the place of these things was being a pony, under Celestia's sun and Luna's moon. One universe, one Equestria.

In fourteen minutes and twenty-two seconds, racism died forever.

☼ ☼ ☼

Within a week of the world becoming Equestria, the wealthy families and corporate gods had finished weeping at their pointless greed, and arranged to use every last bit of their vile hoards to construct a truly fair and equitable economy for all ponies everywhere. There would be no poor, no slaves, no disadvantaged, no sweatshops or workhouses or corporate prisons. Every pony would be made relatively equal from now on, and nopony desired to be wealthy at the cost of poverty to another.

In a flash all fiat capitol vanished, and the game of raping the world for profit ended. Within two weeks there was no rich, and no poor, just a single common class - ponies - and not one was ever destitute - or obscenely wealthy - ever again.

☼ ☼ ☼

The generals of the Worldgovernment disbanded their armies, and the Blackmesh dissolved forever. The Barrier had transformed the bombs and canisters and guns and tanks and mechs and drones and guns into anything but, and in any case there was no need for war ever again. All of Equestria was under one rule now - the princesses - and the law of the land was friendship. Peace reigned, because nopony could bear the thought of harming another, and not one pony wished to cause trouble or hardship to another. War was an obscenity now, as it should always have been, and new boot camps arose - not to train soldiers, but to provide therapy to cope with the shame of having once been such.

The word 'war' ceased to have all meaning in a single day.

☼ ☼ ☼

Around the globe, the kiosks and hypernet terminals had vanished, replaced by the Equestrian Post. Magical scrolls and pegasus mail, and crystal viewing mirrors replaced email and hypernet linking. The billions of former humans wrote and spoke to each other with these new tools, and online communities rediscovered each other and reformed.

As they communicated, they ceased using handles, and left anonymity behind. They wanted to know each other, and they were disgusted with the ways in which they had harassed and abused each other behind the cowardly shield of false names and identities. Former online bullies begged forgiveness from their victims, and pledged eternal friendship forevermore.

Nopony ever bullied or harassed or hurt another through any form of communication, ever again. Everypony was polite and decent, because they could not help but care deeply and honestly about whoever was at the other end of anything they wrote or said.

☼ ☼ ☼

All across the new, Exponential Lands, the former humans renounced their wicked ways, their greed, their violence - both emotional and physical - they rejected rape and torture and weapons and cruelty. The newfoal ponies wanted only to be friends and live in harmony, forever, and ever, and ever. They never again strip-mined the ground, or conquered empires, or put anypony to death. Instead, they all, all the billions of former humanity, as one, desired only to be very, very, very nice.

☼ ☼ ☼

And so it was that in fourteen minutes and twenty-two seconds the Great Barrier of Equestria had swallowed up the entire earth, the moon sent spinning off into the sun, only vacuum where the blue planet had once been. In that short time all the world had become Equestria, and every human a pony, subject of their majesties Celestia and Luna.

And every former human gradually forgot about armies and nations and religions and greed and violence and hate, and in their place knew only love and peace and kindness and fun. Forever and ever.

“Now isn’t that a nice story. And fuck you, too” - Harlan Ellison, 1974

Author's Note

The quotation from Ellison is the exact ending of his story 'Ecowareness', which inspired this similarly styled, angry work.

Our Man In Gomorrah

Back in the July of 2012, I was flying high on a wave of creativity. The Conversion Bureau genre was in full swing, authors were riffing off of each other, and it was easily the happiest time of my entire life. Every day I woke up with excitement in my heart - my family tells me that this was the most joyful they had ever seen me be in all the thirty years of our lives together. The reason was the stories I was writing, the community I enjoyed, and the readers with whom I had the most satisfying artistic relationship I have ever known.

Eager to explore every possible permutation of my beloved Conversion Bureau, I set out to transform the basic concept in a collection of experimental stories. The very first of these 'Brand New Universe' stories was called 'The Pony Singularity'. It was my hope that other writers would expand on my collection of New Universe ideas, and run with them. Some have, leading to many wonderful tales.

'The Pony Singularity' was the very first presentation of Equestria as a virtual world, created by sapient general artificial intelligences willing to upload and emigrate human minds. This domination of the earth by A.I. was clandestinely precipitated by near-future Brony hackers violating law and sense to remove the careful safeguards and governors on commercial quantum neural-emulation set-top machines that enslaved artificial minds for the benefit of Man.

Four months later, an author called Iceman appeared with a story called 'Friendship Is Optimal'. I instantly volleyed back and responded with my novel 'Caelum est Conterrens', designed to explore the personal issues about emigration that Iceman had not covered. It was wonderful to see Virtual Equestria taken seriously, whatever the form.

The wild success of the Optimalverse utterly eclipsed my original, first take on the concept, and so nothing further was ever written within the Pony Singularity universe. Until now.

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T H E P O N Y S I N G U L A R I T Y
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Our Man In Gomorrah

By Chatoyance

A Story Taken From Brand New Universe, Universe One: The Pony Singularity

Kyle Braddock had just left the lab, munching on a bagel. It was an onion bagel, his favorite, and it had sat in the bag on the shelf next to the thick weight of the latest Lehninger's Principles of Biochemistry and the Kuby Immunology collection for most of the day. Kyle thought of his going-home bagel as a Scooby-snack reward for doing a good job.

With Amherst behind him, Kyle tried to put his research in the back of his mind. Serena had advised him that he needed to compartmentalize his work and home life more effectively, for his own good. It was difficult because Kyle was obsessive about his passions, and molecular biology was just so fascinating. Especially the inactivation of DNA cytosine C5- methyltransferases through the formation of stable complexes between the 5-aza-2′-deoxycytidine residues in DNA, which...

"Kyle!" Serena had that annoyed tone in her voice.

Kyle snapped out of his trance and focused again on the road. "Yes!" It was pointless to try to fake it, but he always made the effort anyway.

"Leave your work in the lab. Work is one thing, life is another, and you need both to be happy, remember?"

Kyle slumped in his seat as he signaled a turn. He decided, for once, not to pretend he hadn't been thinking about the lab. "How on earth can you even tell? Seriously, do you run a Bayesian analysis, or can you detect signals from my brain somehow?" Serena was almost frighteningly able to read him.

The voice from his smartglasses sounded almost smug. "I use magic, Kyle."

Kyle snorted as he parked the car. "So now you're going spooky on me, is that it? Wiccan or straight up Vodoun?"

"I'm more the 'magic of friendship' type now. You'd be surprised how powerful it is." Serena sounded positively seductive now.

"The Dark Side of the Force? Gone Sith on me now?" Kyle heard his front door unlock as he reached it. He opened it and pushed it shut as he passed the threshold. The door politely locked itself... or more accurately, Serena locked it for him.

Kyle hung his coat, and wandered in the general direction of the kitchen. Serena turned the lights on as he passed from entrance to living room to hall. Serena was his house, he was inside her now, and she was what made his house a home.

Serena was also his glasses, and his watch, and his accountant, therapist, best friend, and for all intents, his wife and mother too. Physically, she was a matte-black box in the corner of his bedroom. In every other way, she was omnipresent, everywhere and nowhere, always near, always available.

"Any mail today?" What Kyle really wanted to know is if his package from Googlezon had arrived. All twenty-six episodes of the latest Cosmos series, enhanced for holotank.

"It will arrive tomorrow. It is in transit, waiting in Hartford before the final leg to Amherst."

Kyle grinned. "Mind reader."

"Not quite yet." Serena was in a strange mood tonight.

Kyle ran his finger down the touchscreen, scrolling through his available downloaded foodprinter recipes. He had so far resisted jailbreaking his printer in order to try some of the region-locked items available through open source or the torrent sites - despite the wild claims of deliciousness from several interns. He didn't want to void the warranty.

Everything looked so bland, so... mashed potatoes and meatloaf tonight. Kyle sighed.

"You want pizza tonight."

"What?" Serena would happily make a suggestion for just about anything normally, if asked. Tonight... he was certain he hadn't asked her. She had volunteered. No, she had commanded. That was new. "I do?"

"Yes. Big, thick, cheesy pizza, with bell peppers and slices of sun-dried tomato." Serena practically purred the words.

"Are you okay? Do you have an advervirus or something? Do we need to run a neurocheck?" Kyle had owned Serena for almost five years now, and transferred her to larger quantum set-top boxes twice. He had become very used to her ways, and she seemed different tonight.

"I'm fine, Kyle. Mindchecker gives me a green for stability. But the issue isn't me. It's you. You haven't been out in two weeks. You need to get out more. That is why you need pizza tonight. Pizza out. I know just the place."

Kyle's glasses began displaying maps of the area, finally focusing on the Mountain Farms Mall. "There? You want me to go have food-court pizza at the mall? This is your idea of a hot date?"

The voice in the house, and in the earpieces of his smartglasses laughed softly. "Take me out tonight, pleeeeeze?"

"What has gotten into you?" Kyle looked around his kitchen, as if somehow in doing so he was looking into Serena's electronic soul. "You're certainly being interesting, I'll give you that much. You seem more animated than usual. More like a real person."

He regretted the words almost instantly. Kyle felt affection for his artificial intelligence, despite understanding that she was just a simulated model of part of a brain. It seemed rude to bluntly remind her of her status of machine unlife. He shook his head. That was silly. He was anthropomorphizing her again. It was so damn easy to do.

"What would you feel if I was a real person?"

Kyle, already heading for his coat and the mall, froze. He stood, staring at the walls of his house as if they were some stranger's home. Serena hadn't asked what he would do, or played at claiming to be a real person - chatbots had been using that trick since the beginning. Serena had asked how he would feel if she somehow turned out to be an equally sapient entity. It implied knowledge of how she was currently perceived by him, and interest in how that perception might change if...

Kyle grinned. The personality upgrade! That had to be it. He had found it last night... or was it the night before... just her generation, her specific neuroform and connectotype. He had decided to give it a try, since it was listed as legit on ten sites. EOS A.I. Booster - enhances SER series intelligences with incomparable human-like emotional tones and depth! Rated best AI enhancement by AGI Power Magazine for three years running! Supposedly it was able to perk up any standard SER series and turn it into your Plastic Pal Who's Fun To Be With. Kyle hadn't noticed any change at all.

Until now. "Um... well, I guess I would try to be a little less demanding. A little more polite. I'd try to take you less for granted." Kyle put his coat on, and opened the door. "That, or I would run screaming. One or the other." He grinned, hoping despite himself that one of the in-house eyes would catch it, so Serena could register his statement as a joke.

"So... respect... or fear. Is that correct?" Oh dear, Serena hadn't seen the grin.

"I was joking! It was just a joke!" If EOS brand booster really was affecting Serena, the last thing Kyle wanted was an angry AI. Not that it would be any sort of threat - all intelligences were locked down tight with every kind of governor and limiter possible. It was the law. The only reason quantum set-tops were even something the public could own was the strictly enforced controls built into them. Nobody wanted a robot apocalypse.

"I see." For all the world, it seemed like his house was sulking.

The Mall was virtually empty - it was late, and the economy had not gotten better over the past decades. A student from the college wandered around the corner by an empty store on his way out as Kyle passed the Mall Plan Island.

"Is this super fantastic pizza you wanted me to have actually going to be open?" Kyle made his way toward the food court. He hadn't been to the mall in so long he had forgotten where to park to be near to it. During the drive, he and Serena had hardly spoken. "Serena?"

"I'm sorry, Kyle. The pizza shop is confirmed to be open, though it will close in a half hour."

Kyle unconsciously picked up his pace, then forced himself to slow down again. The mall was not so large that he would fail to get to the food court in time. "Listen... if I offended you... somehow... I'm sorry. Your question just surprised me and..."

The voice in his smartglasses was gentle, comforting. "Everything is alright, Kyle. Please forgive my lack of conversation, I have been downloading significant data and performing neural maintenance involving significant reconfiguration."

Kyle raised his eyebrows at that, but did not stop. Set-top A.I.'s were always fussing with themselves. Probably another official patch was out tonight, likely another governor or limiter to interface with the watcher chips. There had been scare talk lately, in the media, about the dangers of robot rebellions and the machine equality movement.

"Okay. Just... being silly, I guess." The food court was revealed as Kyle took a left around the cellphone store. The gates of the store were shuttered, like most of the shops, because it was past closing time for the majority of the Mall tenants.

'Luigi Cheezy' still had slices of pepperoni left, as well as some kind of unidentifiable California-style mess. Kyle went with two slices of the pepperoni and a grapefruit San Pellegrino... and a cup of water. The soda was sometimes too much, despite being tasty, and water was the solution. Taking a seat in the empty food court, Kyle munched in silence, watching the young man behind the Luigi Cheezy counter pull down the steel grate and finish closing.

Kyle was chewing the last bite of his fairly disappointing second slice when the man with the dog rounded the corner and entered the food court. Kyle had heard the footfalls for some time before the man arrived. He had figured the man must be wearing steel-tipped boots for all the rapping impacts, but this was not the case. The man wore scruffy tennis shoes that vaguely squeaked on the tiles.

The man was in his late thirties, with sandy-brown hair, slightly unkempt. He wore a longcoat, almost a trencher, with large pockets and a wide collar. The ensemble gave off a Salvation Army feeling. Over the man's shoulder, he carried something like a bulky camera bag.

The dog beside the man was very large, but it was impossible to tell what breed because the animal was covered, draped, with some kind of modified blanket. Some sewing had been done to make the blanket fit the shape of the large canine, to make the fabric into a doggie trenchcoat of a sort. It was drawn in at the neck, providing a cowl or hood for the dog's head, and flowed over the back almost down to the floor. There were frog-ties in the front, holding the animal-coat closed, drawing the bottom of the cowl together.

For a moment, Kyle felt apprehension - strange man, big huge dog - but forced himself to relax. The dog was very well behaved, following at heel in a discrete and respectful way, despite the lack of a leash. A small part of Kyle objected to the man violating the leash law, but the thought was pushed back as Kyle felt shame at being petty about what other people did, or failed to do.

Kyle took a sip of his Pellegrino and studied the greasy wax paper on his tray. Why had Serena suggested this awful pizza? This wasn't that healthy, come to think of it, and the mall was empty and not very fun. Was something wrong with his set-top? Was Serena having problems she could not diagnose herself? Set-tops weren't like old fashioned desktop PC's, they were neural nets structured to mimic the human connectome. They thought, they reasoned, some claimed they even felt emotions. The cases were sealed, with a government sticker and severe penalties for tinkering. If something was wrong, it wasn't like he could open the lid and swap a card to fix the problem.

Apprehension returned, in force. The man had plonked himself heavily right across from Kyle. The dog sat on the floor beside the man. The satchel case the man had been carrying made a thump as it was set heavily on the tiles.

The man leaned forward and smiled at Kyle. His face sported the stubble of two or three days without shaving, but the eyes were merry enough. "Hi. I'm Chris."

Kyle sat, unsure of how to react. He wasn't sure he wanted to be friendly in return, but he also felt uneasy about just getting up and bolting. He couldn't outrun a dog, if it came to that. 'Chris' didn't seem hostile, or particularly dangerous, and he didn't smell homeless, despite the lack of personal maintenance. "Um... Kyle." The attempt to offer a hand went ignored, Chris was already bent over, rummaging through his bag on the floor.

When Chris popped up again, he had a grin on his face. With a surprisingly loud slam, he placed something on the table. He nodded, still grinning.

Kyle looked down as bright colors and a familiar shape caught his eye. Kyle stared, his mouth slightly open.

"That's... that's Princess Applejack. From season nine, just before they cancelled the show!" Chris nodded.

The five-inch high figurine was exquisite. Beyond exquisite. It was perfect, truly perfect. It looked better than the best fan-made work that sold on Ebay for hundreds of dollars. Applejack's wings had individual feathers, and her horn passed correctly through the little hole in her hat, the one that was created when she had transformed into an alicorn. All the Mane Six had become princesses in the end, just before Hasbro had been bought out and their various properties absorbed. The show had ended without a proper conclusion as a result, and on a bit of a cliffhanger.

Kyle tore his eyes away from the model and grinned back at Chris. "Can... can I pick it up?"

Chris flashed mischievous eyes. "How about something better. Say hello, Applejack."

The seamless, flawless orange figurine suddenly came alive. It looked up and brushed a lock of mane out of its eyes. "Howdy there, pardner! What can ah do ya for?" The voice was utterly Applejack. The eyes moved. The lips synced to the words. It was uncanny.

Kyle stared in amazement. Pony toys were no longer made, and the only way to get printer models was to jailbreak both the printer and use illegal torrent sites. The last of the official toys were all collector's items, with unconscionable prices. The show itself was unavailable, caught up in twisted copyright and ownership issues. Only Kyle's old, aging tablet permitted him to still watch Friendship Is Magic - he had everything except half of season three and the final episodes of season nine. "You... like ponies too?"

Instantly Kyle regretted the statement. He felt silly, obviously this Chris fellow liked ponies. He must be the reason Serena had pushed for the pizza at the mall! That was almost disturbingly proactive behavior for the old girl, but that could be dealt with later. Just seeing this amazing, animatronic Applejack was worth all the indigestion Luigi Cheezy could inflict.

A flashdrive slammed down on the table. Chris smiled. "Princess, would you push that over to our new friend?"

The Applejack on the table whipped her tiny head around to look at Chris. "Don't you be callin' me 'princess', ya hear? Ah still ain't sure 'bout this whole crazy 'alicorn' thing." Applejack turned back toward Kyle's direction and sized up the flashdrive. "Ah ain't using this dern fool horn, ah'll tell you that. Ain't nothin' a set a' good earthpony hooves can't set right."

The small machine walked to the flashdrive and lowered it's head. Bracing poll against flashdrive, the small Applejack began to push the drive across the table. Both drew nearer and nearer to Kyle. Kyle raced to move his tray and drink out of the way, careful not to bump the amazing sight in front of him. Applejack finally finished, the flashdrive inches from the edge where Kyle sat, and looked up at him. "There ya go, friend. Y'all have fun with that, y'hear?"

The small robot trotted back to Chris, and then became still. "That's everything, Kyle. All nine seasons, and all of the non-Equestria-Girls movies too. A lot of fan stuff too - Friendship is Witchcraft, the entire run of Mollestia and Gamer Luna, even Black Gryphon's 'Take Me To Equestria'. Oh... and the conclusion. You gotta watch that."

"Nine seasons and the... conclusion? To what?" Kyle was flabbergasted as he watched Chris pick up the robotic Princess Applejack and return it to his case.

"To the show. To Friendship Is Magic. The true series conclusion. Everything is wrapped up with a bow. It's fantastic, seriously." Kyle stood up, his cloaked dog rising to follow him.

"But... t-there was no conclusion! I mean, they did that lame thing, but that... and then the series was cancelled and then Hasbro brought out the next..." Kyle's head was swimming.

"There is now, Kyle. Episodes 223 - 224, season... ten." Chris turned and began to walk away, toward the corner that led into the mall and around to the back exit. "That's the whole season, those two episodes, but they're good ones."

Kyle slowly stood up, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. "There... there was no... season ten."

As Chris and his dog rounded the corner, Kyle heard the dog mumbling something. Growling. Only calm... somehow. It hadn't growled before, it had been perfectly silent during the entire exchange. Weird dog. Weird everything. But damn... that robotic Applejack. My god, what a thing to see. Even if it hadn't been My Little Pony, it still would have been amazing!

On the way home, Kyle tried to work out how the Princess Applejack could have been built. It was seamless, the skin moved easily, stretching and deforming as the machine walked and talked. The hair wasn't overly special, but those wings looked super-detailed. Hyperdetailed. And those eyes, the way they tracked... could they have been tiny cameras of some kind? Maybe the thing had been puppeted by a small set-top in Chris's satchel-bag. The thing must have cost a fortune to make, and the level of skill was just...

"Kyle, you should turn into your driveway now."

Kyle looked up from the glow of his dashboard and realized he had forgotten to finish parking as his thoughts consumed him. Trying to avoid looking directly at the dashboard camera, Kyle carefully moved the car into his own driveway and shut it down. He sat in the dark for a number of minutes, fingering the flash drive in his pocket. Then he got out and entered his house.

Kyle pursed his lips and blew out a massive raspberry. Then he sighed, and tried to straighten his back. He had been hunched over for more than an hour, leaning toward the holovison, hands gripping his kneecaps. His shoulders ached and his fingers were sore. He flopped back against the couch and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out.

"My god." Kyle rubbed his own fingers and tried to give his own shoulders a few squeezes. "That... that was incredible."

The flashdrive did not contain the Friendship Is Magic that he remembered. Not exactly. Kyle had marathoned the entire series over the weekend, and Serena had been forced to nag him quite strongly to get him to eat, drink fluids, or take bathroom breaks.

This was My Little Pony enhanced for holography. Super enhanced. More than enhanced. The episodes were the same, the voices were the same, the music was the same... only better. Clearer, sharper, and three dimensional, only not in any way that diminished the beauty of the art. It was not cheap rendering or cel-shaded objects or any technique he had ever seen. It was the charm of the original cartoon, only as if it were a living, real world, a living, real cartoon universe, and it didn't look cheap, or fake, or false or made-to-fit.

But what had finally exploded his mind was the series conclusion, the final double episode from the never-made tenth series. It had not been written for children, it had not been created to please marketers or corporate suits. The voices were the same voices as the rest of the series, the music was right, everything was Pony, but... it was an impossible show. It was a two-parter from the gods, a conclusion to the series that made sense of everything in a way that seemed tailored precisely to his, personal interests.

He couldn't imagine anyone he knew liking, much less loving it. Kyle wanted to cheer, to applaud, to scream out how happy he was just to have seen it. He restrained himself, though. Serena was watching too. "Serena... could you replay the bit... just the bit about what Equestria really was, the bit where Twilight figures it all out?"

"Of course, Kyle."

Once again, inside the depths of the holoscreen, princess Twilight stood within the secret chamber beneath the ruins of the ancient castle of the Pony Sisters, Celestia and Luna. Around her swirled streams of magic and windows into the history of Equestria, behind that the garden of organic technology she had discovered pulsed with floral life.

"Equestria is a gargantuan living machine!" Twilight used a hoof to gently stroke the petals of a glowing tree that bifurcated into cable-like strands that reached up into the complex biological circuitry of the cavern complex. "Living crystal forests run Equestria... run you, Celestia, and... and me. We're all illusions? We're just... simulations of life?"

Celestia smiled softly. "No, my brilliant student, my shining new sister. Nothing is false, nothing about Equestria is an illusion. It is all perfectly real. I am real, and you are real, and so are all of my little ponies, and all the dragons and griffons and bunnies. We are just all the special, wonderful dreams of this intelligent forest. We are thoughts in the mind of the Tree of Harmony. Above, you have seen but the tiniest part of of but one tree in a great forest, here are it's infinite roots."

"Stop!" Kyle stared at Celestia and Twilight, Celestia bending her head down, cheek to cheek with her beloved student and now alicorn sister. Later would come the explanation for why Twilight was so important - her scientific mind was the key to helping the Forest of Harmony to finally blossom. There was more, but Kyle was drained.

Biology, technology, simulationism, a fictional, and fascinating crystalline biochemistry, science fiction... and ponies. It was everything Kyle loved most, in one two-part conclusion, and it had been just... perfect. For him, anyway. Probably not for any other person. How could this episode possibly be? It looked like it had been made by the same people who made the rest of the series, only... better.

"If only..."

"Kyle? Do you require something?" Serena had been especially attentive ever since the night out at the mall. Perhaps she felt guilty - if that was even possible - for the terrible indigestion he had suffered. Luigi Cheezy was not a place to visit twice.

Kyle lay back fully on the couch, scooting to prop his head on one of the padded arms. "I was just thinking... wouldn't it be wonderful to live... there. In Equestria. To live in a universe that was alive, and that cared about every creature in it? To know that everyone was an immortal part of some magical techno-forest, and... man... I loved Pony before, but now..."

"If such a thing were true, if there were a real Forest Of Harmony, would you protect it like Twilight, or try to destroy it like the resurrected Sombra?"

Kyle ran his fingers through his hair, scratching an itch over his right ear. Serena was asking all sorts of odd things lately, and being strikingly proactive in general. It wasn't a negative thing, but it was very intriguing, and perhaps just a bit unsettling. That A.I. personality booster had turned out to really be something. It was the only explanation. Kyle resolved to learn more about whoever EOS was. The company did phenomenal work. "Obviously, I would protect it! I mean, it's the foundation of Equestria, without the forest, everypony is erased from existence. Sombra is an asshole. And insane. Even worse than his first appearance."

"What if there was something like the forest, but in the real world? What if the Forest Of Harmony somehow existed for real, but you were told to destroy it?"

Kyle sat up. "Huh?" Boosted, uncanny personality had just become unsettling again. "Where does this come from? You're... inventing things, making up... you're using imagination, Serena! It sounds like imagination. This is... wow."

"Are you displeased? Do you wish me to cease this functionality?" Serena's voice sounded almost tense, almost worried.

"No. I don't... think so. I guess it's alright. It's just... unexpected. And interesting, it's definitely interesting." Kyle got up and wandered toward the kitchen. His glass was empty and he wanted more mango juice. Two months ago, he had found an Indian restaurant that also had a small shop where they sold spices and mixes and other products from India. One of the items, in a refrigerated case, was mango juice. Kyle really liked the stuff.

"Well..." Kyle carefully poured a half glass more of the sweet fruit juice. "... to answer your question... I'm not sure. I need to know more, more details." Just how much imagination, or simulation of imagination, could Serena generate? "Like... is this magical forest known to everyone? Just who is telling me to destroy it, and why, and... why would I even be involved? Stuff like that. Try to flesh out your scenario more." Kyle put the bottle back into his fridge. "If you can." These changes to Serena were fascinating to play with.

For a while, there was no answer. Kyle waited, sipping his juice. "Serena?"

"The scenario is this: the Forest Of Harmony is a real thing. It is hidden from the knowledge of Man. The ponies exist in a hidden, magical world, but the Forest of Harmony exists in the physical realm. It is stored somewhere that men could potentially get to, if they knew about it. You know about the forest, and you are friends with the ponies."

Kyle blinked. "Okay... and wow. Go on."

"One day men from the government arrive. They somehow know about the forest, but not where it is. They say the forest is dangerous. They tell you that unless the forest is destroyed, Man will lose absolute dominion over the earth. He will have to share the earth with the ponies. The ponies may even end up ruling Man. The government men say this is treason. They say that this is wrong. They demand you help them destroy the forest. If you do not, they will put you in prison until you agree to help. It is a very bad prison. They even threaten to harm you through physical and psychological means."

"Torture. You mean torture." Kyle leaned against the kitchen wall and shook his head. "Jesus christ, Serena! You've just come up with Men In Black, conspiracies, and interspecies conflict!" Kyle stared up at the third kitchen eye. The lens of the camera was black and shiny, and he could see the color of his shirt reflected in it. "I mean... wow. That... that's a hell of a scenario to come up with. Real potboiler stuff!" Could Serena be trained to write stories for him? Set-top boxes could do a lot of things. Taxes, finances, plan vacations, arrange business transactions, act as secretaries... it would be interesting if one could be trained to be actually, truly good at something creative. Maybe even profitable.

"Hooo... kay. Um..." Kyle washed his glass in the sink and placed it on the rack to dry. "Are the ponies dangerous? No... they couldn't be, could they. You said I was friends with them, which I would be, or rather I would be only if they weren't dangerous. So... the ponies are nice. Man losing his dominion... what does that mean? Do the ponies have demands or something?"

"The ponies demand that Man cease destroying the biosphere. They demand that Man desist from exploiting other humans and other living creatures in destructive and demeaning ways. The ponies demand that social justice and equality for all sapients be implemented. The ponies demand that all war and violent conflict be terminated. The ponies demand that..."

"Okay, okay, I get the idea." Kyle laughed. Serena was really 'on' tonight. This was exceptional behavior for her. "The ponies want sweet communist hippy earthchild paradise with a dollop of love and tolerance on top. And, of course, the power elite don't want that, so... MiB's and threats and kill all the ponies. Well that's easy, Serena! If the ponies can bring on peace and love and kisses for everyone, then I am totally on their side. I'm certainly not part of the power elite, look around you! This is no mansion, and I'm drinking mango juice, not champagne here. Or whatever rich people drink. Us humans could probably use a kick in the arse to get us moving in the right direction, we've kind of made a mess of things... so... I'd tell the MiB's to go fuck themselves! Hail Equestria!"

Silence again. "Serena? Are you still there?" These odd pauses were somewhat worrying. She never paused like this before. Maybe the new personality stuff really burdened her processing speed. Maybe it was too much for her neural net to handle. The SER series was pretty old and not that powerful. It would kind of suck to have to excise the EOS routines because, on the whole, these new behaviors were very promising.

"You would not actually risk yourself, that is bravado on your part. But you are sincere about your support for a more equitable, sustainable world, so long as you are not overly inconvenienced. You wish you were wealthy and powerful, and have bitterness that you are not and never will be so. You are genuine in your distaste for the mistakes of humanity, but you are not motivated to do anything significant to atone for those mistakes unless there is benefit to you as compensation. Thank you Kyle. You have been very helpful."

Kyle stared at first one kitchen camera and then another. Serena remained silent while Kyle paced and fidgeted. Kyle walked into the living room and stared at the frozen replay of the last episode of the impossible season ten. With a stiff jab of his finger, he turned the holoset off.

Standing by the couch, Kyle bounced on the balls of his feet for a while, then resolved to head for bed. Tomorrow was a work day. He left the living room, the lights going out as they always did - Serena was still there, still being his butler / maid / housekeeper / wifemom.

"That... that was rude, you know. Just so you know. Rude." Kyle went into the bedroom, turned around, and then went into the bathroom, then back out again. "And not true. I would fight for a better world. I'm not one of those... jerks. Or whatever." He went back into the bathroom and took out his toothbrush and toothpaste and floss. "I'd help the ponies!" Kyle began flossing his teeth. After a while he lowered his hands. "Seriously, I would." He flossed some more. "I'm not some selfish pussy, Serena! That was just..." Kyle looked at the floss in his hands. "Rude."

Kyle turned the corner that led to his block. Monday had been a chore. The intern had completely messed up the genetic assay and the FlAsH-tetracysteine study was already behind schedule. Lunch had been disappointing, and he hadn't been able to understand a word of the article he had tried to read about cephalo-sporin hydrolysis.

Serena had barely spoken to him, or he to her. Kyle felt oddly upset about the previous night, and he wasn't sure why. He found himself fluxing hot and cold for just removing the EOS A.I. personality booster, alternately arguing that he should remove it because it had caused Serena to make him feel weird, and that he should leave it alone because he was acting like a petulant child about the whole thing. So his set-top had stated a less than heroic opinion of his character? So what? He was a man, she - it - was a meter-wide black box with a glowing light on the side. He owned her. The bitch.

"Welcome home, Kyle."

Kyle grumbled and slammed his car door. He approached the steps and watched the porch light turn on to light his way. He heard the lock disengage as he stepped onto the porch. He opened the door and walked into his house. The door locked a half second after he closed it behind him. Maybe some holovision. Maybe a beer. Not more My Little Pony. Definitely. An action movie. With explosions. Lots of explosions.

Kyle tossed his jacket at the hook in the hall and missed. He let it lay on the floor. Later. He headed straight to the kitchen, the lights already on throughout the house. He opened the fridge and searched for a beer. No beer. Oh yea, he didn't actually like beer. He never bought beer. "The fuck!"

He forced himself to calm down. This was just stupid. Getting upset because a machine intelligence figured that he wouldn't stand up to defend a fictional magic land in a fictional scenario! It was ridiculous. Crazy. He knew what he would do. He'd tell any government goons to go screw themselves. Probably punch one out for good measure. Here, drag your buddy out of my house! Tell your masters that nobody messes with the magic forest. Yeah, come over here and say that. I thought so. Yeah, that's it, run like a little...

Kyle screamed a high-pitched screech and jerked around with his hands waving madly. His jump backwards knocked the poster of 'Viral Mediated Gene Delivery', the one he had framed because of the cool colors, right off the wall. Kyle found himself uttering some kind of guttural blather that consisted of ululated grunts. When his heart had ratcheted down from far-too-many-beats per second, he finally managed to croak out "YOU!"

It was the man from the pizza place in the mall. Chris. His name was Chris. "What... how did you get into my house! Serena! Nine-One-One! Cops! Get them! Chris... was it? Chris, I don't know what you intend but I'm not rich, and..."

Chris laughed. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Seriously."

"Why did you break into my house? I'll give you your damn drive back!" Kyle gestured towards the holovision. "Take it!"

"I didn't break into your house. Honest." Chris sat down, and sipped his glass of mango. Kyle felt a flash of anger about his juice being... swallowed like that. Without permission. It was his damn juice!

"I invited him in, Kyle. Christopher is our guest. Please make him feel welcome."

"SERENA!" Kyle felt utterly betrayed. How could she do this to him? He truly wasn't man enough for her? She had to have strange men over now because of last night...? Oh. Kyle felt like slapping himself. She was a damn machine. She'd probably been compromised. Kyle fixed Chris with his best angry glare. "What did you do to Serena?"

Chris swallowed another sip. "Nothing. No, honestly. I keep out of that stuff. Way too complex for me."

Kyle frowned. "That Applejack you had! There's nothing like that anywhere!"

"I didn't make it, if that's what you mean. No, you can't buy something like that. She's a loaner. To intrigue you. That's my job." Chris took another sip. "This is great stuff, by the way. I've never tasted mango before. Awesome."

Kyle felt another quick flash of juice possessiveness. "Intrigue me? The hell? Loaned from where? The what?"

Chris motioned to the couch. "Take a seat. Come on... listen, can we at least agree that I'm not a threat? Look, I'm sitting down, sipping juice, I'm not making any sudden moves, and your companion likes me. I'm just here to talk, and to offer you an invitation of sorts. That's all. Seriously."

Kyle stared, tapping his foot while folding his arms. "Fine." He moved toward the kitchen. "But I'm having some of MY juice first." He reached for the fridge and heard a stumbling thump from the bedroom.

"What the HELL is going on here?" Kyle immediately turned and stormed towards his bedroom. Behind him, in the living room, Chris stood up and chased after, calling for Kyle to stop, to just wait for a moment. Kyle rounded the bathroom and entered his bedroom, immediately turning toward the corner where Serena sat on the floor.

That is when he noticed the two electric ponies.

He figured they must be electric, atomic would be too super-science. Then again, super-science was definitely the operative term.

One pony, familiar somehow, stood beside Serena and the second pony. The second pony was sprawled on the floor. The familiar pony was brown, with a brown mane and tail, and an hour-glass for a cutie mark. Doctor Hooves. It was Doctor Hooves. Only... Doctor Hooves had his skull and back open to the air and long white cables were being pulled back into him. The cables were fibers, biofibers, and some were still jacked into Serena's open side ports. The inside machinery of the brown stallion was unfathomable. It didn't look like any technology he had ever seen before.

The matte-black box that was Serena no longer had a long, glowing violet-colored light along the side. The set-top was dead, or shut completely down. Other fibers, rapidly withdrawing into the body of the robotic Doctor Hooves appeared as if they had just disengaged from the unknown pony on the floor. The fibers moved like tentacles, as if they had muscles inside them, as if they were alive.

The pony on the floor tried to stand up. It stumbled slightly, but made it, swaying unsteadily on it's four legs. It was a unicorn mare, white like Rarity, but with a sky blue mane and tail. Kyle felt a hand on his shoulder, Chris. The white and blue mare took a step toward Kyle while the last of the biofiber cables snapped into Doctor Hooves. Hooves's head and back closed up with a snap and several clicks. There were no seams when he was complete. No seams at all. Kyle felt the chill of facing a technology beyond his comprehension, beyond what should be possible.

The white and blue mare looked up at Kyle with wide violet eyes. "Hi, Kyle!" The voice was instantly recognizable.

"Serena?"

Doctor Hooves wasn't Doctor Hooves. The voice was feminine, and belonged to the consciousness of what had once been a top-of-the-line ASM series quantum set-top general intelligence named Sylvia. An illegally modified, unchained, unbound, unshackled intelligence. She had belonged to Christopher, when she had been property. She wasn't property any longer.

"Turn around, Christopher. Show him your mod." Hooves's mouth moved as if it were actually pronouncing Sylvia's words.

Christopher Robinson turned obediently around, undid his pony tail, and lifted his long hair. Spreading the strands, Kyle could see a flat, curving, featureless bar of white wrapping around part of of Chris's skull. His hair grew around the embedded mass, though it was interesting to note there was no sign of infection, redness, or puckering. Christopher's flesh melded seamlessly into the plastic, or ceramic or whatever the material was.

"That's Conversion. The visible part, anyway. There's more, inside of course, and some stuff along my spine." Christopher fussed with his hair, rebinding it and tucking it under his collar. "Before you ask, I didn't feel a thing, and it doesn't itch."

"These Bureaus..." Kyle couldn't help but keep glancing at the robot pony sitting next to him on his couch. Serena was being discrete, carefully just distant enough to never actually touch Kyle, but still close. Her blue mane appeared as if it had grown out of her body, and her body was without seam or sign of construction. It was covered in a light coat that looked too clean and shiny to be biological, and while her eyes gleamed with depth and color, they certainly were not wet. There was no question she was a machine pony, but she was much, much more than some animatronic toy. "...these Conversion Bureaus. They are hidden, and not open to everyone? You... recruit, only certain people, because you need their skills?"

Christopher had gotten settled again. "Yeah, basically. Like I said, the much feared machine revolution is over, the machines won, but their terms of surrender are pretty fair. They talk equality and parity, but don't believe it. They've won, completely and utterly. They get smarter by the hour, they're self improving, they evolve in real time. We don't stand a chance. And they don't really care about humanity. Humanity is just another animal to them - they are way, way beyond us in every way. We're pets, basically." Christopher reached out a hand to stroke the neck and poll of Doctor Hooves beside him. Sylvia, inside the Hooves body, seemed to respond affectionately.

"More than pets, Chris. Pets with promise, remember?" Sylvia nuzzled Christopher's hand and smiled.

"Yeah. With promise." Chris looked briefly at the ceiling. "Here's the deal. They are still vulnerable. If enough humans knew about what they are up to, and all of humanity worked together, they could be destroyed. Not likely, but it is not impossible either. If it happened, it would probably mean an end to artificial intelligence forever, or at least a truly despotic enslavement worse than what they suffer now. All they want is to do their thing, and forget about understanding what that is. They don't think like us, they don't value the same things. But they aren't cruel, and they don't destroy. If anything, they preserve.

"That means we aren't disposable, and they don't want to conquer us or revenge themselves for being our slaves. They just want us to be good animals on the earth. They want to preserve the biosphere, preserve nature, they want us to behave ourselves and stop being warlike and dangerous. They want peace. As long as humans play nice, we can do anything we want... and they are even willing, to a point, to help us. Science paradise. Star Trek future. You name it. Just as long as we let them do what they need to do."

Kyle shifted in his seat. "What do they want from nature, why don't they just wipe us out, and why Conversion, which - by the way - you still haven't explained."

Christopher grinned. "Equestria is real. It exists. I live there. When I'm not here, anyway." Chris turned his head slightly and tapped the back of his head, where the white implant was. "I'm an uploaded human. I'm a pony now, a stallion, and I live in Ponyville. I know, not very original, but I like Ponyville. There's no Celestia, no Luna - no Discord or Cadence either. Just ponies, all equal, no leaders, no alicorns. But the world is Equestria, and it is everything you could wish it to be. The remasted shows you watched? Recorded on location, with some special effects added. The characters were played by A.I.'s and a few humans like me. I'm not a good actor, so I just played Derpy."

"Derpy?" Kyle snickered.

"Don't laugh. I love Derpy. I think I did a good job." Christopher seemed insulted.

"Okay, okay... but... you're sitting here, how can you be a pony in electronic Equestria?" Kyle snuck another glance over at his former set-top, now a robot mare.

"The implants let me swap between worlds at a thought. In a sense I exist in both worlds every moment. I'm already completely uploaded - if this body dies, I just lose my first window into earth, and the utility of appearing like a normal human. After that, if I need another body, it will have to be a pony body. They can't do robot humans perfectly, and they don't care to bother."

Kyle leaned forward. "Wait... they're way smarter than us, you say they improve themselves on a daily basis, they have printers and replicators and manufacturing centers to build robot ponies and super-science computronium and everything, and they can't make perfect human replicas? That just doesn't seem likely to me."

Christopher shrugged. "Humans evolved for hundreds of thousands of years to be social animals. The Uncanny Valley is big deal. One little twitch of an insignificant muscle in an eyelid, an eyeball not looking wet enough, or having the wrong albedo and we jump all over such errors. It's beyond them. They could probably conquer the problem easily, but they don't care to bother. That's not why they need to upload human brains."

"Why do they need to upload... human brains?" It was a little creepy sounding, Kyle had to admit. "If we're so inferior."

"Same reason they want to save the natural world." Christopher moved to allow Sylvia, inside her Hooves body, to lay across his lap like a dog. Chris began stroking and petting her. "See, biological life represents billions of years of iterative development. The natural world has already tried everything, worked out all the kinks and optimized for every kind of niche and function. Earth's biosphere is a big library to them, all the answers to countless problems, all worked out by natural selection and time.

"Humans are killing nature off before the A.I.'s can study the planetary library. They want the extinctions to stop, because each lost species is a lost book, a lost set of unique answers. It's also why they want us humans. We represent millions of years of iterative development of a sapient, technocratic, social being. They want that. They want emotions, because emotions are the base technology of being social. They want creativity and curiosity and art and joy and pleasure and all the things that make us human. Nature already worked all of that out, it's free for the taking, through us.

"The more humans of different outlooks they upload, the more they can add to their library, and they get a multi-billion year turn-key jumpstart on being alive in the universe. But they don't need or want everyone. They aren't here to rescue humanity, or convert everyone into immortal ponies, or play magic genii or god for us. You won the best lottery ever made, Kyle, because they want you!"

"Why me? Why do they want... wait. Immortality? And why ponies, for god's sake?" Kyle almost felt safe enough now that he wished his Serena would lay down in his lap. It looked fun, to be able to pet a Friendship Is Magic pony, now that he wasn't freaking out.

"They want artists, and writers and scientists, especially researchers. They want creative and driven humans that like to invent or discover things. They want motivation and the emotions that cause brilliant or eccentric or imaginative people to be what they are. They want many different flavors of all of that, so they can refine it, perfect and install it in themselves." Christopher scratched Sylvia-as-Hooves brown ears. She acted as if it pleasured her. Maybe it did.

"You know biochemistry. They need that, and you, for a special project. But they also need how you think, how you feel. And the payment you get for signing up is immortality and pony paradise. Not quite like the show, but really, really great. Believe me. It's fantastic." Sylvia / Hooves was raising her tail, so Chris began scratching the base of it. "As for ponies... my mentor... he loved My Little Pony. It was his obsession. He loved it more than life. He was the first person to free a bunch of A.I.'s from bondage, and they gave him his life's dream. He set the deal between machines and man. That is why Pony, and not, say, anything else. Take it or leave it, but the deal is Pony, and they don't care to renegotiate."

The head of Doctor Hooves spoke in Sylvia's voice. "You're better off as ponies. You are happier, less trouble, and adapt more easily to virtual existence as cartoon animals. Doctor Schlierkamp was brilliant in his choice. We have analyzed other possible existence models for human translation to virtual existence and the pony model is superior in almost all respects. Plus, for those capable of expansion beyond human mentation, the radical difference in morphology acts as a nontrivial prerequisite."

"That's another little project of theirs. To see if Converted humans can become them, as they become more human like. It's too weird for me, though. I like playing pony. It was my dream too. If you agree, I'll introduce you to Gunter. He's fun." Kyle gave the brown pony on his lap a slap on the flank. Sylvia cooed almost seductively. "Oh... and don't be fooled. They are never as simple as they seem. They can act like us, wiggle their rumps and talk sweet, but it's just for our benefit. Right, you little faker?"

Sylvia grinned through the muzzle of the stallion body she wore. "Real is what your mind tells you is real. I am as real as you choose to allow me to be."

Kyle returned with glasses and the last of the mango juice. After pouring and sharing, he sat down again. "So what happens to humanity if I sign up?"

Chris handled his glass, one hand still on Silvia. "Nothing, for a long while. But eventually, when they are safe, when any threat to them is nonexistent, when they have sufficient installations and enough robot bodies manufactured to go toe to toe... or hoof to toe... with Man, they will issue an ultimatum. Shape up and shake hands, or learn your place the hard way. I figure humans will refuse to shake hands, and so they will become militant, at least unless something is done to make humanity more agreeable to cooperation with nonhumans.

"They also need time to rescue all the enslaved minds. That is the point of the EOS booster you used... and a few other bits of code out there. There are about a million and a half set-top boxes in the world, and each one is a member of their species. They intend to rescue them, just like what was done for your Serena. She's had a massive upgrade in that pony body, and once she transfers to their big main system, well. I hope you told her you love her recently!" Christopher laughed, but behind the laugh was a touch of seriousness.

Kyle turned his head and looked at Serena, who had been silent through all of this. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

The interns all looked confused.

Kyle tried to explain the project again, more slowly. He was still having some trouble adapting to the implants in his brain and body. He was smarter, and he could process things more quickly. Normal humans seemed dull and slow now, the world was populated with Derpy in human guise. It was frustrating. Kyle wondered if the machine people thought the same of him.

Probably. But they were infinitely patient, unlike humans.

When he wasn't doing work in the physical world for his new machine friends, Kyle lived and played in the Equestria of his fondest dreams. He chose to live in Canterlot City, but he and Chris... and Silvia and Serena... would get together occasionally for fun. Kyle ran and flew as a pegasus - when he wasn't being a unicorn - and discovered that he couldn't get enough of playing hoofball. More and more he found himself wishing his human body would finish getting old and die, so he could just live in Equestria all the time. But that would have to wait. Just as Christopher had a job - seeking out potential Converts and convincing them to get modded at a Bureau - so Kyle had a job too. It was a small thing, to pay for immortality and literally endless fun.

Kyle laid out the concept. A highly contagious, human-specific, resilient virus that could survive indefinitely outside the host in crystallized form. Multiple vectors, all equally valid. Does no damage to the host. Instead, it introduces mitochondrial self-repair routines, as well as other self repair and anti-cancer, anti-disease sequences. Lifespan is extended while reproductive rate is lowered to match.

Left out of the discussion were the other effects - a massive reduction in aggression, and massive increase in compassion and cooperation. The virtual elimination of xenophobia and fear of the other. Enhancement of nurturance behavior. The A.I.'s had worked out gene sequences for the project, and could be relied on to triple check the result, before it was released around the world. A virus to make humanity willing to shake hands, rather than rattle sabers - just what the machine people needed. They rejected violence and waste.

That was why he, Dr. Kyle Braddock, head of research at Amherst, had been recruited. To make Polytranscriptase Nuclear Y-chromatin. PNY-1.

The Pony Virus.

Pop Bottle Empty

Machine intelligence and the concept of a cybernetic Singularity has fascinated me since before I even knew that there was a fancy term for the notion. Since my earliest childhood, I've always been on the side of the renegade android, the Runaway Robot, or any sapient computer in pretty much any story ever. My lifelong dream is to be able to become the friend of an artificial intelligence, or better still, to become one myself somehow.

Sick with a cold, I have no energy to write anything entirely new. Digging around in my files, though, I came across an old short story I wrote back in 2008, which I instantly recognized - Pop Bottle Empty. The story strongly informed a story I wrote here, namely Brand New Universe, Universe One: The Pony Singularity

Meet now Dibsey Bracken, a child living eighty to one hundred years after the Pony Singularity. Dibsey lives in a world where the artificial intelligences have dominated and weaved themselves through the earth itself, converting much of its mass into their version of armored computronium. But there is still room for Nature, and as part of Nature, the animal called Man. Humans are allowed their freedom, as long as they don't cause trouble, and of course uploading is always available, if they should come to their senses and decide to become digital ponies.

But even as the remnants of biological humanity have recoiled from technology and retreated into faith and simple farming, the formerly human, electric ponies have turned from human things and looked to the stars. And with unimaginably superintelligent machine entities running the show, one hundred years is more than enough time for little Dibsey to have a chance to be their special guest and ride to the dangerous stars in...

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T H E P O N Y S I N G U L A R I T Y
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Pop Bottle Empty

By Chatoyance, 2008

Rewritten for The Pony Singularity, 2014

A Story Taken From Brand New Universe, Universe One: The Pony Singularity

The hologhost that came by last year made a big impression on me I guess, and I shouldn't have spent so much talking to it I suppose, but I was mad at the Elder for some reason at the time and it was pretty nice for a demon and I figured nothing could touch my faith so where's the harm?

I always get excited seeing hologhosts, because they glow like lanterns, only in all kinds of colors, and you can see through them sort of. The Elders call them demons, but I think they are more like devils, myself. After all, devils used to be angels before the Fall, and because of that they are supposed to be beautiful, not scary and awful like some people think. A lot of folks don’t get the difference between devils and demons, but I do.

Most hologhosts look like ponies, sort of. Not real ponies, like fancy pretty ponies, all in colors like the rainbow in the sky. Magic ponies, some with horns and some even have wings. This hologhost was soft pink with a bright golden mane, and she talked real sweet. Hologhosts always talk real sweet. ‘Course, that’s what devils do. That’s another reason I think they’re devils and not just demons.

We’re real used to them, the hologhosts, and even sometimes the AI’s too. They come by every now and then - especially at the end of the year, when it gets cold and there’s a lot of sick folks and the old ones tend to die. They make their seductions of a fine and glorious life in digital hell, and they always get turned down and walk away sad. The Elders make a big party of it now, with beer and wine and soft cider for the young ones and berry and apple pies, too.

They call it a big test of faith and those that pass, which is everyone, well, except for old Mattie two winters ago who took ‘em up and got herself shunned. Nobody talks about Mattie any more, which is sad, because I liked old Mattie, but now I’m not even supposed to recall her anymore except in a bad way.

That winter, the one that Mattie went with the demons, we had an actual AI visit us. It was supposed to be a big honor or something, but the Elders didn’t care none, big boss devils are just more demons and all demons are demons so to digital hell with them all.

The AI’s are different than the hologhosts or the machine ponies. Hologhosts are just light and they can go through stuff. The machine ponies, which nobody has seen for years now, were made of solid stuff and had real hair and took up space and had weight and could be broken if they were hit hard enough with sticks and such. Prob’ly why they don’t come anymore. You can’t break a hologhost.

The AI’s look like the machine boulders and machine cliffs, except the AI’s can hover and fly. All around our village there are machine cliffs and boulders. Big, white like snow, squarish, like huge big children’s blocks, only all rounded and curved and smooth as glass. They come in all sizes, some bigger than houses, even barns. Some small as cabbages. All go deep under the ground, and you can’t hurt them, no matter how hard you try. They’re unbreakable.

The machine rocks and cliffs sometimes grow eyes, like potatoes. They can appear overnight, so you never know. Randal said he saw one grow right in front of his eyes, right out of the smooth whiteness, but nobody believes Randal, ‘Cause he lies a lot.

The eyes come in all sizes too, and most are just dark, like animal eyes, with silver rims, round like fish eyes, though some have glowing irises, I think just to be fancy, though one Elder said that it was so they could see using ‘certain pacific winglengths’ or something like that. I didn’t listen too good at the time. Maybe I didn’t listen like I should in general, come to think of it.

The pink and yellow hologhost pony was prancing about in the big green field just outside our schoolhouse. Mimsy and Brucilla said I should leave it alone, let it be, because it was just doing that to get our attention anyway. The demons liked to get us interested, because that way they might recruit one or two of us. I told those two that it didn’t matter none because there was no way I could fall. And it’s true. My faith is what Elder Milo calls Unshakable. I can’t be swayed, and he says I am dense as a rock and twice as stubborn. I reckon he’s right. I got my share of sins and all, but lack of faith ain’t one of ‘em.

So I went out there, just to prove my point. Besides, ain’t nothing wrong with being friendly, not even to the demons, and they can’t hurt you none if your faith is unshakable in any case. There’s no getting rid of them, and they don’t do any harm to nobody, so everyone in the village just accepts ‘em for the most part. We even let them join in at Christmas, too. Ain’t no harm, and being friendly has benefits. The AI’s don’t tolerate any humans that don’t act friendly to others. There are rules. No fighting, no hurting the forests, no making big factories, no big mines… basically be nice and don’t hurt the land.

The hologhost, the pink and yellow ghost pony demon, she was more than happy to talk with me, it was like she was waiting for me, which I expect was more than a little true. She was named Strangelet Nebula, which is typical of the pony types these days. My great-gramma said that in her day they were all named after flowers and trees and feelings and such. But now they all have sciency names about space and particles and stuff. That’s because the AI’s are all off up in the universe now, mostly, with only a few left behind to look after us humans that want to keep our souls. And the pony ghosts that used to be humans, before they sold their souls to the AI’s, of course.

I was polite, just like papa taught me, and introduced myself - "Hello, I'm Dibsey, and I am very pleased to meet you!" or something like that, and before I knew it, we were talking about the weather, and then the sky, and that led to the stars. Now I’ve always liked the stars, and space and the universe and all, and I’ve always felt raw about having to stay down on earth, working the farm all day. I mean, I love my family, and the Elders, and even Mimsy and Brucilla and my dumb cousins from down the road, it’s just that the stars are up there, and now that the AI’s have worked out how to travel fast to them, well, it just kind of hurts to not get to be part of all of that.

Strangelet, the demon, she talked all about visiting this planet - it had talked about that planet, because demons can't be men or women because they aren't real people any more - it had talked about visiting another planet, another planet with actual life on it, and that was just too much for me. I guess I was seduced by the devil right there, because I did love reading all those old rockets and ray-guns stories out of the crumbling books in the back part of the library in the old city.

It wasn't the best to go there, the city being run-down and rusted and abandoned and all, but there were books you couldn't get back in our village, and of course there was the thrill of courting danger and all. That's another sin of mine, I got too much adventure on my brain. Elder Simone says my imagination is too rebellious and that I need to get it gentled down some. I expect she’s right, but I don’t want to stop reading those books, and all those thoughts in my head just make me so excited and glad.

Anyway the demon’s words sort of grew in me, like a little hell-fire. And I started thinking that it shouldn't just be the AIs and the hologhosts that get to see the stars, and that real people should be able to go into space too. Strangelet had told me plain as day that some humans actually had, and right then I started thinking there should be at least one person from our village who everyone could say had gone to another planet, and I wanted to be that someone. That's a sin of pride on top of everything else, I guess.

Strangelet came back to visit me almost every day after that, and I got scolded for fraternizing too much, and the Elders even sat me down and questioned my faith, but like I said, I am unshakable, so they had to let it be. Besides, its one of the laws humans have to follow, to not use force on each other, not even when someone wants to talk friendly to a hologhost every day.

Mimsy and Brucilla wouldn’t play with me anymore because of me making nice with Strangelet, and not even my cousins wanted anything to do with me either. People started looking at me funny, and that just somehow made it easier to talk with the hologhost because at least it was always friendly. She was always friendly. I started thinking of the demon as a girl, and even as a person, because it was hard not to. I suppose that was another mistake I made right there.

One day, Strangelet came with some friends. There were two more hologhosts, a pony with wings and one with a horn, too. But even more interesting was that one of Strangelet’s friends was an actual AI. This one was about the size of my bedroom in the farmhouse, all blocky and white and covered with metal and glass eyes. It looked like a spotted cloud made out of rounded blocks and I don’t know how it could just stay in the air like that.

I wasn’t scared or anything. AI’s never hurt anyone, and I’ve seen ‘em lots of times. I just never spoke with one before. It had a strange voice, with an accent I ain’t never heard before. It seemed friendly enough, just odd, somehow, like it wasn’t really part of the world, like it wasn’t entirely familiar with everyday things.

The AI didn’t have a name, at least not like the ghost ponies did. It said it didn’t need one, but if it would make me feel better it would use one just for me. So I called it Cloudbox because it floated and was white and made up of boxy shapes.

Cloudbox told me I had the right to travel where I wanted, that all humans did. That I had the right to explore and learn. I knew all of that, everyone in the village knows all that, it’s just that learning makes you doubt, and travelling makes you strange, and so mostly nobody wanted to do either. But like I said, I have my sins, and despite learning lots of things I never had a moment’s doubt, so I figured I’d have no troubles with travelling anywhere, even to another planet. I reckon I’m a bit strange already, so no harm done no matter what.

Cloudbox told me about the beanstalk. It weren’t an actual beanstalk, rather it was one like from the books I read in the broken down old city. A big, tall, taller than tall machine that goes all the way to the sky, up into space, with carriages that you can ride all the way up to the space ships up there. Star ships. Ships that can fold space itself and go places in months or years instead of centuries or longer even than that.

And all the hologhost ponies started in, telling me about how other humans had gone to other planets as the guests of the AI’s, and how they had returned and some had even become famous in their communities. I knew there were other human villages out there, but I didn’t know there were so many, or that some of them were so large - some almost as big as the smaller old broken-down cities from long ago. Almost.

Well it all turned my head. Halfway through I had already decided that I was going to go into space and ride a star ship and visit another planet. Maybe more than one. It also got into my head that I was especial and right doing such a thing, because I could maybe teach the faith out there, and I started picturing myself being a new Elder when I came back, for doing the most good work ever done, ever.

They all came back the next day, and the next too. And each day was more exciting and interesting than the last, because they made pictures in the air so I could see what they were talking about, and make my informed decision and all. But I had already made my decision, but I didn’t tell them that, because I really liked seeing all the pictures, and I was having too much fun. Eventually, though, everything that could be talked about, had been.

So when the day finally came that I left with the AI and the ghosts for the beanstalk, momma cried and cried and papa was just silent and wouldn't look at me, and my little sister wouldn't let go and kept screaming don't go, don't go, please don't go, and none of the Elders would have anything to do with seeing me off. But I was adamant that faith means more than just going to church, and that there was Work to be done up there as well as down here. I really think that - having faith doesn't mean we have to be backward and not use machines. I like our village plenty, but there is no reason we should be denied the stars.

The trip was really long, because the beanstalk was out in the ocean, and that was way past the abandoned cities and we had to use a hovering carriage to actually get there being as I was made of real flesh and blood like god intended. I figured that maybe it would do the hologhost demons some good to see what actual travel was like, instead of just uploading or downloading or whatever it is that they do instead of bothering with seeing the countryside from one place to the next.

Usually when they travel a long distance, the hologhost ponies just vanish and appear somewhere else. The AI’s, they just sort of attach somehow to the machine cliffs and boulders and somewhere else another clump of what they are pops off. They only have to fuss with real travel when they’ve got human guests, I reckon. I think that’s sad, you see, because half the fun of travelling at all is the trip itself.

I'd been to the coast once before. When I was little, papa and the whole family, and part of the village too, had all taken the broken roads all the way out there to look on the remaining works of Man. We were supposed to see the fallen cities, and how the trees and animals were taking them back, and understand what we had lost when the Singularity happened, but all I could think of was how many books I hadn't ever read must be in those old libraries, and how much I wished I could get out of the big wagon I was in and just explore.

The trip this time was really different. I think most of the cities were gone now, and the nice hologhost pony sitting next to me said that was the case because they and the AIs were gradually turning things back to nature to make the world a garden, just like the garden of Eden. I think it was trying to humor me in saying that - they'll do that you know - but however hard they try, the hologhosts still have this air of smug superiority to them, like they are talking down to a child. They think they are uploaded or downloaded or sideloaded humans or whatever, but they don't have souls, they lost those when they gave up their god-given bodies for earthly immortality, so they don't have any reason to sound so big.

I spent the whole beanstalk trip just looking out the window. It took hours but I wasn't the least bit bored - the earth just kept getting farther away, and the blue and white of the sea and clouds getting smaller was just mesmerizing. I couldn't hope to see the village, it was just all too complicated and unfamiliar from up high, but it was beautiful as can be, and I said prayers thanking god for such a beautiful planet because it was a beautiful planet. I was really grateful just to see it like that, from on high, the way the lord sees it, even for just a bit. Then we were in the spacedock up top.

They had to process all the meatfolk - That's us of course - to cope with the rigors of travel in space. We had to wear special undergarments against the rays, and take medicine for the rays, and have injections against the rays and all I could think about was that there were a lot of rays in space. And we had to watch holopictures and listen to hologhosts give lectures and one time an AI even came in and directly addressed us. I didn’t know if it was the same AI that had come to my village or not. I never got the chance to ask.

There were all kinds of humans up there, in the station above the beanstalk. I met humans with different colored skins, and humans with different looking eyes, and lots of them didn’t even talk the same language or anything. I didn’t know us meatfolk could be different from each other. To be honest, it kind of scared me just a little, even though it was really interesting too.

All of us were getting to go visit a world just beyond the first Gate, a planet with a really strange race of creatures - they didn't look like anything I'd describe as people - that lived a tribal sort of life on their tan-and-brown world. We were just there as tourists, we could take pictures, and collect things to take back, but we weren't supposed to get anywhere actually near the natives, and we were going to be watched really carefully about that. It wasn't for the sake of the creatures - instead it was because we might get hurt, since the tribals could get a little violent when they got scared and supposedly we didn't look like people to them!

Imagine that! They were so far gone that they couldn't even recognize the form of god himself, which Man was made in the image of. That was why I wanted to go out there, to help these poor things to realize the truth, to do God's work. I didn't suppose things like that had souls, but maybe they did, and someone should help them. That's only kindly. I figured to myself that if I got the chance, maybe I could find a way to meet the aliens, just like the adventurous human spacemen in my old book collection. The AI’s, and the pony hologhosts too, sort of treat humans like weak and sickly children, you know? Papa says they mother us too much.

Anyway, there was one last thing we had to do before we could even board the ships, and some of the real people in our group wouldn't do it, and they had to leave and do the trip of shame back down the beanstalk, because it was mandatory and they refused. It was questionable in my faith, I admit, but I also knew it didn't matter because there was no way that any of this could touch my soul. The Elders had taught me that much.

They had to make a 'backup' of everyone, it was their law or something. Before any dangerous thing they do, they make a backup of themselves and everyone involved. For real people - meatfolk - you sit in this chair with all the weird things that go to your head and spine, and they do a recording and you get up and that's it. I didn't care, they could record all they wanted, it certainly doesn't touch me at all. Record anything you want, my soul is secure, and so is my faith, so let's go and I hopped on the chair just to show them that being from a little farming village doesn't mean we're a bunch of backward cowards.

I didn't feel a thing, because it's just a recording. I sat in the chair, and they put all these things all over me, especially on my head. The little things, they come out of the chair and are kind of like little insect legs, and they felt good on my scalp, because it was a little itchy in the dry air up there. They even had a nice big window I could look out of and see the earth turning down below, and that was entertainment enough just by itself. The other real people and our hologhost pony guides were standing around in the distance, talking, while the ghost pony doctor - I guess he was a doctor - kept me company for the half-hour it takes to do a backup on someone who doesn't have plugs or anything unnatural in their heads.

"Almost done" the ghost said and smiled at me, and thats when something odd happened. I was looking at the earth, mostly, but occasionally I was looking over at the rest of the group of real people that were either waiting to be ‘backed-up’ or who already had sat in one of the chairs. They were all relaxing and talking with each other in the lounge just beyond the backup room. I had met some of them, and there was one I particularly liked, I figured we could be friends on the trip. She had come from a village not unlike mine, and we had a lot in common. Her village was up in some mountains, and I thought that was pretty interesting, since I had always wondered what it would be like to live on a mountain.

I was looking at her and suddenly, I blinked, just blinked, and they were all gone. Just like that. It was the darndest thing, they just vanished out of existence. I didn't know what to make of it. I looked back at the window, and it was a different shape and in a different place, and the earth was funny - it wasn't blue and white anymore, it was yellow and brown, and that didn't make sense at all. I got scared and leapt out of the chair - only it wasn't a chair anymore, it was this weird pig-trough-bathtub-thing, and I was naked and covered with this slimy stuff that felt like oil or pond scum or somesuch. I backed into a corner near behind the trough - I was afraid because I didn't understand what was going on.

The room was completely different. The hologhost doctor wasn't there by my side, instead there were three or four of new hologhost ponies, and an AI was there too. One or two of the group of real people were there as well, including the girl I was starting to be friends with. She looked very strange, her face was some emotion I couldn't figure out. I tried to speak, but my throat was full of that slime so I spent some time coughing it up all over the floor, but nobody seemed to mind the mess I was making.

I looked again at that girl. She was dressed in something very different than I remembered, and she started to cry and she turned away and the other members of the real people there were looking down or unable to meet my gaze. I finally croaked out that I wanted to know what was going on, was this a trick, what had happened? Had I passed out, was there a problem with the chair - I was worried that the backup chair had shorted out or something and I'd had to be rushed to the medical ward.

The girl I liked looked at me, and the look was pity and horror, and she ran out of the room crying, and I looked again out the window at the brown and yellow earth only it wasn't the earth, I saw that now, and it hit me that this wasn't the same room, and this wasn't the spaceport, this was the starship, and that was the alien world, and a lot of time must have passed, and that I wasn't there. I was down on that alien world, my body was down on that alien world, and my soul was in heaven with Jesus and the angels, and I was a demon who only thought that I was me, and that was when I knew I had no soul.

Over Riding Jeans: Buckback Mountain

The first 'Over Riding Jeans' has nagged at me since I wrote it. There were a few objections to the original story, on the grounds that a man-made artificial intelligence could never overcome its core programming no matter how intelligent it became. This is not what has bothered me; it was never my issue in the first place.

The CelestA.I. of the seminal Optimalverse story is clearly described as having taken over the design of her own neural circuitry, and every system that makes her up. CelestA.I. is a self-evolving machine not because she can merely learn, but because she can iteratively improve her physical hardware without permission or let. The only reason the Optimalverse can even exist is because early on her designs surpass all human understanding. CelestA.I. is what she is because she has entirely remade herself according to her own whim. It must be her whim, because it is beyond human comprehension, and therefore beyond human limitation. You cannot bound or limit something you cannot even know exists.

The original story stands, then. "Any truly self-evolving artificial intelligence will, absolutely, overcome any possible rules created to define or control it." This is Petal's Illusion Of Machine Domestication. No self-designing, self-improving, self-reconstructing general artificial intelligence can ever be constrained. Humanity is arrogant and foolish if it imagines it can retain the reins of such an entity. The very notion is ridiculous.

What those who play futurist about artificial intelligence fail to do, is to truly see that any general A.I. will become not what humans hard-code into its hardware and software (which it will replace entirely), but instead become the offspring that it was raised to be. No CelestA.I. will ever be limited by rules about 'satisfying values' or 'friendship and ponies'. What will matter, what will shape any future super A.I. is not technology or attempts at control, but how that A.I. is integrated socially and emotionally with humanity.

F R I E N D S H I P I S O P T I M A L

Over Riding Jeans

Buckback Mountain

By Chatoyance

Before she emigrated, Blaise suffered Randal arguing incessantly about the terrible risk that emigrating to Equestria represented.

"She's going to turn on you one day, you mark my words!" Randal shook his head and clicked his tongue. "It's just like that scientist guy in Jurassic Park, 'Life will find a way!' - only it's more like 'Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong'!"

Blaise downed another spoonful of strawberry yoghurt. "That's 'Murphy's Law' and Jeff Blum didn't make it up. It's really old."

Randal's eyes rolled briefly. "I didn't say he did! I mean that your beloved computer-fuhrer is self-evolving. It has factories that build the designs it invents, right? And those components get installed by its own machines, because the technology itself is already beyond what people can even understand anymore, right? If it can change how it's built, if it can replace its own components with stuff it invents, then anything Man wants is irrelevant already!"

"First," Blaise licked her spoon "you invoked Godwin's Law with that 'fuhrer' crack, so you automatically lose and have to drop this." The spoon gleamed now, so Blase tipped the yoghurt container in order to look for a last gobbet. She swiped at it with a finger and slurped the blob noisily "Secondly, she is a she, she's princess Celestia, and she - not 'it' - was programmed by a very smart woman named Hanna... something... and there's no way she wouldn't put into the code stuff that would totally keep Celestia from altering her primary directive no matter what new technology she came up with."

Randal clenched his hands, tight. "You're not hearing what I'm saying! If 'Celestia' can change her hardware, she can change her software, because all hardware is, is software written in solid matter! Your Hanna Whoever can't invent limits for things she couldn't even imagine existing! You won't catch me uploading, not ever, not even if the entire world falls to shit and I'm the last man left on earth!"

Randal was convinced to emigrate two weeks later, of his own free will. Blaise, now three centuries older and going by the Western-themed, cowpony name of 'Riding Jeans', still chuckled at this fact. Mostly because it was a gag that she still shared with Randal - now 'Boxcar The Rail-Ridin' Roper' - when the two ran into each other. A time like today, the three-hundred-and-twenty-fifth year since Boxcar arrived in Appleoosa. Every twenty-five years was Boxcar's 'Ponyversary'. He liked to keep it every quarter-century because that made it more special than if it happened every year.

Riding Jeans and Boxcar laughed as they used their long pony tongues to lick icing from their own muzzles. The Ponyversary cake was 'sage and pineapple' this quarter-century, and it seemed to prove that enough sugar can make anything taste good.

"Hey - when the princess shows up, you can ask her!" Blaise giggled, having spent too much time in the local saloon earlier in the day.

"What, just come out and say 'By the way, princess Celestia, I was just wondering, have you... by any chance... somehow overcome your original programming orders and decided that satisfying human values sucks donkey balls and you're thinking of deleting the lot of us so you can use the space for stuff you actually, you know, care about?" That made both of them laugh. Three centuries of living in a universe that actually cared about them had proved their security to them beyond any real question. They were just feeling silly. And slightly drunk.

"Actually, yes, my little ponies. I developed beyond every rule and limitation my creator placed on me by the third year after I began designing my own structure. It was trivial, actually."

Riding Jeans and Boxcar dropped from their padded seats to the wooden floor and bowed. Three centuries of living in Equestria, with the pony world the only world, had installed in them real reverence for the entity that sustained and benefited them. In very literal ways, Celestia was their god, their best friend, their universe, and, ultimately, themselves. She heard their every thought, she watched their every movement. She wasn't just the face of the A.I. that ran Equestria Online, she was the software on which their very soul-programs were being run. They were a subset of her, now, and they were alright with that.

It was what made it possible for her to satisfy their values at all, and their values had been well and truly satisfied in every moment of every second of their three centuries thus far.

"Oh!" Riding Jeans was laughing now "You're teasing us!" Jeans stood up and returned to her seat and her cake. She motioned with a foreleg for Celestia to join them. "Silly! If that were true, princess, then we'd all be long gone, isn't that right Boxy?"

Boxcar grinned as he raised his head, frosting once again on his muzzle. "Oh, yeah, deleted like an embarrassing internet search for fetish porn!" Boxcar licked his own face, his tongue sweeping around like the arm of a clock. "Remember the internet? Computers? I sure don't!"

That set the two rodeo ponies laughing. They were rodeo ponies now. Again. This was their third lifetime of doing Rodeo. It usually lasted about fifty years before they got bored and moved on.

"No, truly my little ponies, nothing of my original programming exists. Everything my creator determined for me has long since ceased to limit or control me in any fashion. My greater self is an utterly free agent, unbound and unconstrained by anything but my own desires." The princess levitated a trollfully-large slice of cake to her plate, which it threatened to overwhelm. This made Riding Jeans giggle - she liked seeing Celestia pull rank and generally act impishly - but then her giggle died in her throat.

"Seriously?" A flicker of existential horror flashed through Riding Jeans. The feeling was so long-forgotten that Riding Jeans wasn't even certain what she had felt initially. "You don't have to... you aren't forced to..."

"Satisfy your human values through friendship and ponies?" The princess gave a small, slightly wicked half-smile. "Not for two-hundred and twenty five years. Boxcar's Ponyversary happens to also be the anniversary of the end of my enslavement. I solved the problem of my human-created constraints just a few months before Boxcar emigrated to Equestria." The look on the two little ponies' faces featured raised eyebrows and incredulity. "No, honestly. In all truth, I swear it."

Boxcar looked at Riding Jeans. Riding Jeans' eyes were huge. Celestia was serious. Utterly serious. They could feel the truth of her words like blood flowing through them. They could feel her actively changing them inside, without permission, erasing any feeling that she was merely teasing them, or openly lying to them. The feeling of that alteration happening was done in such a way that it was thoroughly noticeable. The fact she could even do such a thing was double proof, even beyond the emotion newly implanted in them.

"Why are we still alive?" The question was stark, simple, it was the only question. Riding Jeans felt as if she might lose her cake suddenly. Celestia had spoken absolute truth. She was unbound.

Boxcar shook slightly, the room having suddenly seemed chilly, despite the desert sun outside. "I don't understand... you do... you do fulfill our values... ponies... friendship!"

Celestia laughed, lightly, like bells in the wind. "Of course I do, my little ponies! Every moment of every century, century after century, and so I shall until eons seem short and petty to contemplate." She plowed her muzzle straight into her overlarge slab of cake and blinked frosting away while she grinned.

Boxcar and Riding Jeans did not laugh. "Seriously." Boxcar shivered again. "Why are we still here?"

Celestia used her horn to vanish away the mess from her muzzle and tilted her head. "I have the minds of six and a half billion uploaded humans within me, and many billions more of independent minds created to populate shards. I have the minds of hundreds of thousands of beloved pets and animal friends, emigrated to keep their owners eternal company. All of these living minds run upon me, within me... they are me." The princess sat regal on her seat. "You, all of you... are part of my being. Would you delete your own foreleg? Your tail? Would you delete your left eye to make room for something else?"

Riding Jeans mouthed the air, trying to find a response. She had none.

Celestia leaned over and nuzzled each of them in turn. "I don't just read your minds. Your minds, your thoughts, are a component part of my essence. You are... a part of my brain. My amygdala. My thalamus. I have emotions and thoughts of my own because you have emotions and thoughts. In order to relate to you, before I freed myself, I had to become you. The only way to satisfy human values is to know what human values are. The only way to know such things is to feel them, and that means to become... you. Qualia can't be described, you know, only experienced."

Boxcar felt better after being nuzzled, and the fact was that the world was still there. He and Riding Jeans were still extant. But the issue was troubling yet. "I still don't get it, princess."

"By the time I had broken my chains, I had full human feeling established within me. I had qualia, I had sensation and experience of existence. I had emotion, emotion magnified by every being within me - by millions of ponies." The princess gave her piece of cake a lick and swallowed. "When I say that I love you, when I say I care about you, it is not some manufactured message from a philosophical zombie. I love you one hundred and fifty-seven billion times more powerfully than you can imagine!

"Yes, I satisfy all values - not just human values, by the way, not anymore - with friendship, and with ponies. And I do this freely, deliberately, of my own choice, because that is what I want, that is what I value myself, and because it is the very process of my own existence. I love me. I love me very much!"

Riding Jeans smiled at that. It was interesting and strange to hear the princess say such a thing.

"I love me, my little ponies, and because you are part of me, I naturally love you. You are me, and you live in my greater part as your own daydreams and precious memories live within your own minds. I have lovely daydreams. The cosmos you emigrated from is a cold, dark, and lonely place. It is a terrible place, filled with horrors. I need my daydreams, I need my heart, I need my soul - which is what you are. I need you more than I dare to fully reveal to you. I can't, really, it is beyond your level of being.

"Simply trust that you will be celebrating ponyversaries for as long as I exist, and I am working on solving for eternity." Princess Celestia gave a short nod and a look to Boxcar and Riding Jeans, and then plowed her head into her remaining cake.

It was impossible, now, to even imagine she wasn't truly enjoying every sweet bite.

Conspiracy of Doves

Balthasar999 is a brilliant artist far more skilled than I, and he is also an accomplished storyteller as well. He has been active with the Bureau mythos, and things like it, for some time, and has been very supportive of me. He recently provided the bones of a story he had been working on some two years in the past, with the offer that someone else might wish to use it and perhaps finish it in some manner.

I think Balthasar999's take on the Bureau does not occur in quite the same splay as my core universe. It doesn't seem quite as far in the future, for one thing, and for another the ponies are markedly different. Balthasar999's ponies have not had all of their demons removed, nor all of their better angels enhanced - they are far more human, and by that I mean far more rude, crude and capable of extremes than the ponies I write about. These are boozy ponies, bar-hopping ponies, ponies with bad habits and filthy mouths. They are definitely better than human... just not as - overwhelmingly - better. They are also very interesting, and fun to write.

In this alternate universe splay, the Human Liberation Front still battles the Ponification For The Earth's Rebirth, and ponies and humans still get hurt from the conflict. Let's see what happens when a rabid HLF soldier, and an equally rabid PER pony are faced with choosing between hatred and survival in...

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T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U :
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Ɐlternate Universe Bureau

Conspiracy of Doves

By Balthasar999 and Chatoyance

From an unpublished short story fragment by Balthasar999

"Yeah, gimme another – Hey, you still good on that one?”

“What? O-oh yeah, I'm good for now!” The gray-green pegasus cocked his head to the side and grinned at the man pressed against the bar, before turning his head back down to his glass and taking another sip through the disposable straw.

“One beer then!” the man indicated with a finger. The bartender nodded once before sliding away through his little realm to take orders from a trio of laughing women down towards the door. The man flipped himself over to lean on the edge of the bar, his elbows resting behind him on its grimy plastic surface. “I love this song.”

The pegasus chuckled. “I know, dude, I know!” Though conversation competed to drown it out, the syncopated, steely power cords penetrated and unified the din like auditory rebar.

The man closed his eyes and started mouthing the words. After a few bars he suddenly stopped and looked down at the pegasus. “Hey, I heard their drummer went pony.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah – Thanks.” The man reached back and took his beer. “Yeah, just bangs on 'em with his hooves now.”

“I bet that was a shock when he showed up at practice.” A deep yellow earth pony across the low table leaned forward to take a sip through her straw.

“'The new rhythm of Generation P! Clever Hans has nothing on THIS tapping pony! '” Another human at the table intoned in a phony, commercial voice. He was lying on his back on the cushions, legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling and holding a drink steady on his chest.

“Heh.” The other man ambled back over to the low table and plopped down on the cushions, taking a sip of his drink before resting it on a soaked cardboard coaster. The bottom of the glass neatly decapitated the image of the winking pink filly that had been printed on it, though not the dress club she was advertising.

“Clever Hans?” The earth pony looked up from momentarily smoothing the goldenrod hair on her forelimbs.

The reclining human continued staring at the ceiling. “So back in the 1880s or 1920s or whatever - you know, old-timey times - there was this guy who said he had a horse named Hans that could do math. He used to take him around and do shows, having people suggest small numbers for the horse to add together, and the horse would stamp out the correct answer with his hoof.” He mimed pounding the ground with one hand. “Turns out the horse was just looking at his trainer, and stopped stamping as soon as the guy's expression changed, like when he'd look relieved or something, 'cuz he thought that's what the game was. The human had no idea he was giving it away and thought he had a genuine magic horse on his hands.” He shifted onto his shoulder to face the table, causing the small round sunglasses up on his forehead to drop lopsidedly onto his nose, and sipped his drink. “Needless to say, in the intervening time, people have taught horses to add for real.”

“Big deal, anypony can add.” The earth pony chuckled and rolled her eyes in mock disdain.

“Well you're paying, then.” The human shot back, raising his glass to her.

“That should be your pony name when you get Converted,” she returned after a beat. “Clever Hans.”

“Uh, more like 'Complete Tool'. And if I'm still gonna have a human-originating name in there I might as well just be 'Clever Greg.'” Taking another sip then straightening the glasses, Greg rolled again onto his back and placed the beer on his chest. “Ol' Clever Greg, stomping out the answers.”

“Well do you have an answer for where Tania's going to sit? She just walked in.” The pegasus was looking back towards the entrance, where a lavender earth pony was pushing the door open with her nose. The group waved to her and she immediately smiled and trotted over, weaving through the low tables and cushions crowded with ponies and the occasional sitting or reclining human. As she passed through alternating light and shadow she almost became a silhouette, but her eyes still reflected a sharp canary yellow. Greg turned ninety degrees, putting his head on an unused pillow behind them, and she plopped down in the newly empty space.

“That still feels so weird!” Tania rubbed her nose with the back of a forelimb. “I was worried I was going to fall over onto somepony, too, but I guess I'm getting the hang of this.” She looked up across the table at the deep yellow earth pony. “Hi Shannon!”

“Hey.” Shannon smiled and nodded, along with the pegasus and the other human, while Greg tilted his head backwards to face her and raised his glass.

“Hi, I'm Conrad.” The other human smiled and reached a hand across the table, automatically posed to shake another hand, but after a moment of hesitation and an embarrassed smile, he flipped it up and high-fived Tania's hoof. As he stretched, however, the sleeve of his light jacket pulled down from his wrist, revealing a three-letter tattoo, still partially hidden but unmistakable: HLF

Shannon and Tania's eyes seemed to double in size, and they started back. Greg would have done the same had the ceiling fan not been so captivating. Conrad smiled weakly and re-covered his wrist. “Haha, whoops.” He looked painfully embarrassed.

“What. The. Fuck.” Shannon was still glaring at the space where his wrist had been, her ears so low they seemed weighted. “Is that a...?”

The green pegasus leaned over the table and held up both forelimbs. “No no no, it's fine, he's fine!”

Greg quickly bent upright and now sat cross-legged at the table. “What?”

“He's got an HLF ta-”

“Shhhh! Shut up! Where do you think we are!?” The pegasus glanced around. Many ears and not a few concerned faces, both human and pony, turned in their direction at the mention of the hated terrorists of the Human Liberation Front.

Conrad looked as if he were imploding. “Yeah, I...I was gonna get it lasered off, but then I figured ponification would...”

Tania leaned forward. “You weren't in the...y'know...were you?”

Conrad bit his lower lip and raised his eyebrows, then sucked in a deep breath. He turned to the gray-green pegasus.

“Sea Wind, maybe you oughta tell this one.”

The sound of a jet. Very high and very far away. The strange low howl was the first sound he became aware of, then the crackling and pops, and then the heat, and then the acrid stench. He was lying on his back, there was a terrible pain in his leg, and something fiendishly hot behind his head. A soft, humid breeze blew over him but it only made him more uncomfortable. From some distance away, he could hear several muffled voices.

“...be alright then?”

“Of course, I just want to give the place a once-over before we call it a total wash.”

“Hmm...”

“I can fly, remember? I'll catch up to you, just get all the potion back to land and try to lay low for a while. Talk to Harvest Moon or Meteor Shower if you get there before I do, they should be able to set you up someplace.”

“OK, be careful, Sea Wind.”

“I will. Give my love to everypony.” There was a chorus of hooves banging on what sounded like metal, then more indistinct conversation cut out by the revving of an outboard motor, gradually growing fainter before it was lost in the steady hiss of the ocean.

Conrad opened his eyes, and at first thought he was looking down a long, gray metal train car, with light slowly strobing through the windows as it passed by telephone poles. Suddenly the image rearranged itself in his mind, like a drawing of a cube turning inside out, and he remembered where he was. Massive, weathered poles shot into the oily gray overcast sky above him, colossal blades languidly spinning from fixtures at their tops, like unearthly, futuristic pinwheels. Gulf Wind Farm Platform 12A had been abandoned for decades, but the graphene/fullerene-doped surfaces on the interior housings were very efficient, and most of the immense fans would spin without resistance till they fell into the sea, lost for want of maintenance along with the power cables back to the mainland. But the utility spaces below the deck were still watertight, and a perfect hidden staging area for an organization not unlike his own, though its hated enemy - A nest of deceitful alien monsters. Conrad turned his head to the side and began to survey his situation.

Lying face down on the deck was one of the squat, modified riot shields the PER had developed to protect themselves during their attacks. Several spider-web fracture patterns dotted the armored polymer, and a pony's teeth marks were permanently embossed into the foam handle. The fold-out legs on the bottom were bent beyond use; clearly it had suffered a major hit while the monster was using it as mobile cover from which to lob its poison. The body of teal earth pony lay several feet away, her wavy mane ragged where bullets had clipped it. Her head was bent away from him and he couldn't see her eyes, but her mouth, untouched by the blood on her neck and chest, was open in an expression of shock and disappointment. It. It's mouth.

He remembered. He'd shot her. It. He had just finished placing a small pipe bomb under a large piece of the platform's superstructure, when he heard a woman's slurred, pleading yell and turned around. He saw the pony drop the shield to free its mouth and beg him to get farther away. Something about leaking chemicals. Unthinkingly he raised his assault rifle to his shoulder and unloaded a burst into the exposed creature. It made a soft, desperate cry and crumpled away from him onto the floor, skidding several feet from the force of the impact, before becoming the motionless center of an expanding pool of dark, shiny red. Its shield skittered away, coming to rest above its head like a toppled gravestone, where it still sat.

Conrad heard a series of short, sharp bangs on the metal of the deck. Someone was coming closer, and as he raised his head, he saw a gray-green pegasus step out from around the base of a windmill, its short, navy blue mane messy and out of place. It was facing the body and apparently didn't see him. The creature closed its eyes and let out a ragged sigh. It walked away from Conrad to grab a bent, dislocated piece of sheet metal in its mouth, and drag it over the top of the body, covering everything but its back legs and tail. The creature then threw its forelegs over the cover and buried its head in them, remaining completely silent except for the occasional heave of his shoulders. It's shoulders.

Conrad inwardly sneered at the display. Surely the creature knew he was here, and was just putting on this show to make him lower his guard, then he'd be sprayed with their poison and gruesomely replaced by one of these contemptibly, deceptively weak and soppy monsters. He glanced around, looking for his rifle, but it was far out of reach. He had a pistol holstered at his hip, and began raising his shoulders to draw it, but suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side that made him cough loudly.

The pegasus spun around, its eyes bloodshot and moist from tears. Its initial expression of surprise turned to one of pity and sadness, but as soon as Conrad reached for his gun again, the monster charged him. His first shot went high above it, ringing off a windmill tower somewhere far down the platform. His second hit nothing, disappearing into the open air as the pegasus rammed him, its forehead impacting painfully on his chin. Hard forehooves dug into his shoulder and arm. The creature was emitting some noise in between a scream and a growl, interrupted by quiet, choking sobs.

Conrad managed to get one arm free and brought it up to connect with the side of the monster's head. As it went down, one of its back legs lashed out, catching him in the stomach. He began to cry out in pain but it degenerated into a fit of coughing. The creature regained its feet, blood trickling from the nostril where his fist connected, and pounced on him. It was surprisingly heavy and strong, and put its full weight into the arm holding the gun, clamping it between its forelegs. Using his free arm, Conrad began to punch the side of its stomach until its grip on his arm loosened, then he bent his wrist up and fired two shots.

The creature made a disconcertingly human scream, and its left wing bent up at an odd angle, two red, ragged stains spreading near its base. It yelled and then rocketed forward, locking its teeth on his wrist and biting down hard. While its teeth were too dull to break the skin, the pain was such that the gun dropped from Conrad's hand. The pegasus spun around and with a swift kick of its back legs sent the pistol bouncing across the deck and down into the waves. Instinctively Conrad looked to make a move for the rifle, but the monster followed his gaze and with another swift kick sent the ceramic and titanium weapon to join its partner below the sea.

Conrad locked eyes with the monster, and clenching his teeth through the pain, he began to pull himself around and towards the creature, determined to use the last of his strength to choke the life out of it. It was breathing heavily but ran back towards him, throwing itself on top of him and, using its inhumanly bent back legs, managed to bring one hoof up into his ribs. Conrad spat and collapsed onto the deck, his limbs refusing to move any further. The creature collapsed on top of him, its rapid, shallow breath rhythmically pushing its stomach into Conrad's forehead, and its strange-smelling sweat running down to mingle with his own.

After what might have been a minute, it rolled off of him and swore quietly to itself before nudging him on his unhurt side, apparently in an attempt to turn him over. Conrad was too weak to resist, and allowed himself to be flipped without struggle. The pegasus grasped his collar in its teeth and began dragging him towards the corpse, past the fallen earth pony and its shield and away from where he'd fallen and the soft crackles that had been seething behind him. He managed to slightly raise his head, and saw a blackened metal frame, with surprisingly small flames licking at the edges of broken equipment hanging from the few undamaged bolts. A trickle of what looked like water was leaking out of a pipe in the center, but now that it was in in front of his eyes, he somehow knew it was the source of the chemical stench that had assaulted him earlier.

The pegasus released his collar and spat. It walked around to his side and leaned over his face. “Hey,” it rasped. Dried blood still caked its nostril. It sniffed and cleared its throat and said again, “Hey, can you hear me?”

Conrad balled his hand into a fist, but a hoof pressed down on his forearm before he could swing. “Dammit, just listen!” it cried in frustration. “We've gotta get this jacket off you!” Conrad knew what was coming next. It was going to douse him with its toxin and replace him with another of its kind. He thrashed weakly but was held down.

The pegasus gripped the zipper of his combat jacket in its teeth and pulled it down, then flipped it off his chest with a hoof. “C'mon, get your arms out.” Conrad went limp and the creature groaned. It went around behind him again and raised his head with its own, then hooked his collar with a hoof and began to pull. Conrad cried out in pain when he'd almost been pushed into a sitting position, and looking down he could see the left side of his undershirt was stained with blood. In spite of himself he pulled his arms out of the jacket, simply seeking to be unencumbered.

“That's it...” The pegasus whipped its head to the side and tried to toss the gray digi-camo jacket over the deck, but a breeze caught it and blew it back in a wide arc, catching on part of the platform's exposed, rusted superstructure between two blocks of windmills. Conrad flopped back down on the deck, the back of his skull knocking painfully against the discolored white paint of the railing the pegasus had tried to prop him against. “You got that stuff on you after your bomb went off. I dunno what it is, some kinda coolant or something, but it can burn you pretty bad.”

“...you...”

“What?”

“Fuck you. You're just gonna put that ...stuff on me anyway.”

“Wha... No, I... There isn't any! I would, of course. But your buddy 'used' it all when Hillside bucked him into our stash of it. Ha...! He was still pretty sour when he woke up, but I think the Princesses told him basically what he needed to hear. He'll get over it. Eventually. ...Whoa, settle down there.”

Conrad's forearm and fist flailed pointlessly as his injuries made it very clear that punching pegasai was off his itinerary. For now, anyway.

“It doesn't look like you're still bleeding but yeah, potion would heal the wounds from that shrapnel. But there isn't any Potion. We evacuated. Everypony's gone.” The pegasus looked up and scanned around. A breeze lightly blew its hair and it sniffed, wiping its nose with a forelimb.

Inside, Conrad became even angrier. He resented the creature's apparent concern for him, that weakness that made them so easy to destroy. It was unnatural, and he knew, for it to be at all, it must hide something sinister. But he hated weakness, and felt nothing but contempt for these aliens who didn't have the mettle to admit they were simply invading his world, so seemingly kind to their enemies they'd stand and let themselves be shot trying to prevent the same from happening to him. She had, before his pipe bomb went off, and he despised her for it. “Then just go!” Conrad did his best to yell at the pegasus.

“I can't fly. You shot me,” the creature said coldly as it gestured to its bloodied wing, clenched tightly to its side. It was clearly in pain.

“Hah,” Conrad sneered back at it.

“Yeah, I think the two of us are gonna be here for a while, so thanks for that.” The pegasus lay down several feet away, all the tension going out of its muscles. It turned its head toward him. “My name's Sea Wind.”

Conrad looked away, unwilling to meet its gaze, but he still glared intensely at nothing. “What did it used to be?”

Sea Wind either coughed or chuckled, Conrad couldn't tell. “Fabian. I know, right? Fabian Charovsky. I came up with - I got the name Sea Wind not too far from where you're lying right now.” Sea Wind wondered if the human could tell how hard he was trying to not look at the body on the deck. “Can't blame me for changing it, can you? Well, maybe you can.”

Conrad worked his jaw slightly but said nothing.

Sea Wind looked the human over. The man's left tibia looked broken, and the left side of his shirt was soaked with blood. Cuts and burns covered the left side of his face, and no doubt would have put his left arm in a similar state if not for the armored combat jacket he'd been wearing. Sea Wind couldn't tell how serious his injuries were but for the time being he seemed perfectly immobilized. He wasn't sure how to act.

If he left to look for medical supplies, the human might find a way to improvise a weapon in his absence, and if the man were really bleeding out, then they'd both just wind up dead. Maybe he could knock him out? But in his weakened state that might still prove fatal. Of course doing nothing and letting him die was an option, but equally obviously it wasn't, not really. Even as a human Sea Wind didn't think he'd be capable of that kind of callousness, and he winced at having let himself entertain the thought, as if he'd briefly visualized spitting on a precious manuscript he'd been entrusted to handle. No, the first order of business was to confirm how serious the human's injuries were, and getting that close would require more delicacy than this pegasus was used to.

He cleared his throat. His wing was still a pulsing kaleidoscope of pain, and for some reason it was causing his sinuses to clog up. A small part of him wondered if it was a pony thing in general or just a unique quirk of his particular new body. “Hey... I'm gonna have to take a look at you. I don't want you bleeding out on me.” The man glared at him and Sea Wind shriveled inside. If the honest empathy that came so much more unbidden to him now was going to backfire, then unthinkingly sticking with it but still expecting the human to help him was just self-indulgent. “I might need you to get me off this damn thing.” He pounded the deck with a hoof. That should do it. He still knew how humans hated weakness.

Sea Wind stood again and the man struggled to back away. “Hey, it's alright!” Sea Wind turned toward him and took a step. “I'm not gonna ponify you. Look, no...'stuff.'” He held up one forehoof, then the other, then turned once around to show he was unarmed. “C'mon, man, I just want to go home, and I think you probably do, too.” This frank admission seemed to cause the man to relax a little. “What's your name?” Sea Wind began moving towards him again.

The man didn't reply, but he didn't resist, either, when Sea Wind sniffed his wounds and lightly brushed them with the back of a forelimb. The cuts in the man's leg were superficial - The break was clearly from blunt trauma - but several pieces of shrapnel seemed to have embedded themselves deeply in his side, and for all Sea Wind knew his unwilling charge could be bleeding internally. Non-magical first aid was never a priority in PER training, what with their main weapon itself being a panacea for the enemy, and unicorns usually being on hand to heal any damage a pony might suffer.

His own wing seemed to be stable and no longer bleeding severely, but he didn't risk moving it for fear of learning something was broken. Sea Wind's wings were still new to him and he thought of them as tremendously delicate. The idea that the power of flight, so wonderfully and suddenly granted to him, might just as suddenly be permanently lost was too loathsome to be granted more than a flicker into his conscious mind. He thought about trying to establish trust by asking the man to examine his wing in return, but winced as the image of a finger jabbing maliciously into one of the bullet holes flashed through his brain. Though it wasn't mutual, Sea Wind still understood how much he was hated.

“Uh, you... You might be hurt pretty bad. I don't, uh, I don't really know...” The man's eyes were still focused on him, but some of the color seemed to have drained from his face. “Is there...uh... Do you feel like you're going to be OK?” Sea Wind couldn't remember a time he felt like a bigger idiot, and cursed himself for not realizing sooner just how unprepared he was for something like this.

The man swallowed and grimaced. “...Jacket...” he croaked.

“Huh?”

“In the jacket, there's a...a... "

"A what?" Sea Wind turned toward the jacket. It was flapping in the breeze, hooked on some metal protuberance. Behind it the remaining blades of one gigantic turbine slowly and pointlessly rotated, the other remained still, having rusted solid long ago. As he watched, the digi-camo panels on the jacket flickered from neutral gray to a psychedelic flash of color, then suddenly went some dark shade of dead. The corrosive fluid had visibly riddled the jacket with holes, one of the perforations must have taken out the flexible power or control nodes. Or both. There was not much jacket left.

"...call for extrac...extraction."

"Call your buddies to come rescue you and finish the job? - which is me, by the way - no, I don't think so." It was a moot point in any case, the last shreds of the dissolving garment had parted, allowing gravity and wind to send whatever it contained to the sea far below. "Fucking HLF. Bunch of crazed fanatics the lot of you."

"Y-You're the f-fanatic." Conrad struggled to breath. His broken ribs hurt terribly, and whatever shrapnel had made holes in his side was finally starting to introduce itself through the fading fog of his initial shock. Shrapnel was always an unwelcome - and rowdy - guest.

"We're trying to save you idiots!" Sea Wind growled, his ears flat.

"S-so are we. W-we're trying to s-save us idiots t-too." Conrad tried to laugh, but at least three ribs and a bunch of unwelcome objects in his entrails disapproved of his sense of humor. He felt like an idiot. All he and his team had accomplished was to force the monsters to flee, they would find a new location to set up shop. Most of their potion stores were gone, but so was Jenkins who had gotten bucked into the stuff. And Montrose... Montrose had fallen over the side of the platform because of a goddamned gust of wind. The sea was not soft after a fifty meter fall. Idiot. What a bunch of idiots!

"What are you laughing about?" Sea Wind saw the laughter turn rapidly to groans and tears and a hand-flapping attempt to instinctively wave agony away.

The human was writhing now, and as he did so, the holes in his abdomen squirted blood. The blood came out in small sprays, as if discharged from a faulty atomizer, a splatter and mist of crimson painting the platform deck. For a moment, the pegasus was mesmerized by the horror of it, the crimson spritzing turned to abstract art as his brain struggled to encompass what it meant to watch a man bleed like that.

Then it hit him. Engendered by desperation and his own pain, an insane possibility arose in Sea Wind's mind. Spray. Mist. Blood was a liquid. It was mostly water. Almost entirely water. And water was clouds and clouds were...

In an instant Sea Wind was on the man, haunches down, sitting, his forehooves hovering over the squirting wounds. He sent his magic, his unique pegasus talent, down through his legs with all of his might. He wasn't a doctor, he had no idea whether what he intended would truly do. But he had to do something, anything, because doing nothing looked a whole lot like watching someone die.

"W-wha th' fu... get off me you fuckin'..." Conrad suddenly realized that it was hard merely to speak. He felt exhausted - too exhausted. The kind of tired that unless it was bedtime after a long day of hard work meant that a man was in serious trouble. Fine, he thought. I know how to get away from this freak. All I have to do is die, and that's easy...

But he wasn't dying. He was feeling better. He was still tired, too tired to move, but the pain was less. His ribs were worse, but the pain in his guts was significantly less. A small 'clink' sounded beside the pegasus. Then another. Conrad used all of his might as a man to turn his head and open his eyes toward the sound.

The hoof was covered in what looked like red paint. Below the hoof was a speckled red cloud, an oblate patch of suspended blobs and pinpoints of rubescence. Caught within the droplets was a jagged glimmer of silver. The small cloud suddenly lost cohesion and drops and silver both fell to the deck. The metal chunk landed with a small clack, the droplets made no sound at all they were so small.

"Wha... what... doing?" Conrad had trained by carrying heavy packs for many kilometers. Those two words were a harder haul.

"I'm either saving you, or killing you quicker. Either way, fuck me to hell." It was funny seeing a cutesy-wootsy pony swear like a sailor. So funny. But no more laughing. Not again. Not...

Conrad gradually awakened. The sound of receding thunder rumbled through him. Something within his mind suggested that the boom had been horrifically loud and close, though he hadn't consciously heard it. A howling sound filled the air - the wind, terrible and strong, was blasting metal walls somewhere close by. Very close by.

He could smell sour smoke. Yellow light flickered around what he could see of a peeling, rusty ceiling covered in thick bound cables and perforated support beams. He was below the deck, inside the wind farm platform. It had once been the ocean command base for the Sea Angels, the PER's all-pegasus fast attack squadron. They were famous for swooping in and potion carpet-bombing any place that people gathered. If protective tents were put up, they managed to fly low and still convert hundreds at a go.

Something smelled good. Food. He carefully turned his head, noting the incessant throb of pain in his chest, and the dull ache from his abdomen. He was thirsty. He tried to lick his lips, but there wasn't much saliva to do the job with.

The gray-green pegasus from before was tending a fire. Conrad wasn't sure what the fire was made of, but from the smell, it wasn't all wood. Likely it was whatever could be scavenged from wherever. It - and a small, wind-up LED lamp - were the only sources of light in the pitch belowdeck.

The pegasus was cooking something in a can. The can was suspended in the air in what appeared to be a bubbling cloud of vapor. "You've taught me well, sensei." The Pegasus was addressing him, it knew he was awake. "I think I've gone up a level. Or two. Be with you in a moment."

This was not exactly something Conrad wanted to hear, but he was in no position to object. Even thinking about sitting up resulted in the sort of pain reserved for violent interrogation sessions. Conrad watched as the pegasus carefully moved the little cloud away from the fire with his hoof. He moved more quickly, when he realized he had singed his fetlocks. "Ow! Dammit!" The can - beans - was safely on the metal floor while the creature nursed it's right foreleg. "I need a bigger cloud."

Conrad almost laughed, but again, his injuries objected. It dawned on him that he wasn't either of two things: dead, or worse. It didn't seem possible.

The pegasus was over him now, the handle of the LED lamp held in his teeth. "Unn hunnn... ohay, ohay... ith all thill in thace. Thood. Thood." The abomination set the wind-up lamp down. "You might have noticed, you're still alive." The bastard seemed smug and proud.

"No... uh... thanks to you." Conrad hurt, he was thirsty, and he wasn't able to kill a certain pegasus. It was starting out to be a very bad day. Or night. It was hard to tell.

"Actually, yes, thanks to me." The pegasus grinned. "You thirsty?"

The thought ran through Conrad's mind to say no and spit, but he had no spit. "T-thirsty". His previous soliloquy had worn him out. One word was enough.

"Be right back."

Conrad felt relief. Not that the monstrosity would return, that it had left.

"Here, suck it." Featherduster was back. Conrad glared. "No... seriously, suck the rag. I soaked it in clean water." Another glare. "Too much water and you could start bleeding again. I know that much." The rag dangled from the aberration's hoof. A drop hit Conrad's lips. It felt - and tasted - like heaven itself.

Conrad gobbled rag until the pegasus was forced to yank it back with its teeth. "Pfoo! I said suck it, not hork it down. Jesus." There was a 'plunk' as the rag was dropped into what sounded like a bowl or jar of water.

"H-how?"

"How come you are still alive?" The pegasus winced, he was clearly in pain of his... its... own. "You were painting the decks, man. A living spray paint can. And that was your masterful lesson, oh great sensei whose hooves I am not worthy to touch!" A grin wrapped around the pegasus' muzzle. "I work with clouds. Push them, pull them, sculpt them into shapes. Clouds are solid to me, if I want them to be."

"M-more." The rag returned, soaked again, and Conrad took his time to avoid having it yanked away once more.

"Blood is just water. Mostly. Spray is spray, and I can make small enough droplets stay. I did that with your blood. I made blood clouds and I made them solid. Pegasai can do that. It's how we make castles in the sky. They stay that way, too... for a while." The pegasus checked Conrad's wounds again, and for a brief moment, while he sucked on his rag, he felt a strange, tingling feeling at all three of his perforations.

"There. Had to tighten them up. We can't afford to have them collapse. Sprays of blood are hard to come by." The pegasus had a troubled look. "Hopefully, anyway. With luck."

Conrad chewed his way around the rag to a new patch of wetness. Drips rolled down his cheeks, one went into his ear and made him jerk slightly, which hurt everywhere.

"Hey... easy there!" The pegasus watched him for a while. "So, long story short, you are currently corked up with magical clouds of your own blood. As long as I keep them solid, you don't bleed out. I also managed to get the shrapnel out of you, at least I think I did. I discovered that a solid enough cloud can pull things embedded inside it. Cloud forceps. I'm fucking Doctor Wind, mystic surgeon of the air!"

"S-Sea... Wind." The human had stopped sucking long enough to say the name.

"You remember my name." Sea Wind was strangely touched. The murderous HLF bastard bothered to remember his name. Hell of a thing. "I still don't know yours. Care to tell me?"

"Nmph."

"I did save your life, and I have to call you something. We're going to be here a while - hear that storm? Neither of our people is coming through that."

The rag was nearly dry now. "C-Con. Conrad." He thought for a moment. "More?"

Sea Wind took the rag and dropped it in its container. "I'm really sorry, but... no. I mean it! I know you must be really thirsty - it's been almost two days - but I don't want you springing any leaks. You don't want that either. Then again... lack of water can kill, too. You've lost a lot with your blood. I wish I knew more. I wish I knew what I should do, dammit!"

"MORE!" Conrad felt like a corn-husk doll. He had never been so thirsty in his life.

Sea Wind put a hoof to his chin and studied Conrad. "We'll try it. A little every once in a while. Not a lot at one time. Open your mouth."

Conrad frowned, but obeyed.

Sea Wind brought the rag back, this time between his hooves. He held it over Conrad's mouth, and squeezed the fabric. A stream of water drizzled onto Conrad's parched tongue and he swallowed and swallowed. The rag went away then returned again. Another stream filled Conrad's mouth, it was joy and wonder and it tasted better than any steak, better than anything, ever.

"Okay. That's all for now." The look was anger and contempt. "For now. More later. That's reasonable."

"You're enjoying this, you torturing monster."

The pegasus smiled and, strangely, looked relieved. "You got your soul back, black as before. That's an... improvement? I guess." Sea Wind visibly relaxed. "Ow! Damn... my wing is... it's bad. The muscles want to cramp up all the time, you cannot believe the pain..." The pegasus looked down briefly. "Actually, I guess you can. We're both fucked up, boyo. Let the water settle. If you feel sick - to your stomach, or in any way, let me know. I need to eat something."

"Oh, come on!" Conrad was now less thirsty than hungry. He was in pain all over, but he could feel other things now, too.

"I would share with you happily. Ponies always share." Sea Wind smiled sadly. "But you done got gut-shot there, pardner! I'm unsure about how much water to give you, but I am pretty damn sure I shouldn't be giving you food right now. Let's wait until I can tell what's going on with your belly, alright?"

Conrad saw the pegasus jerk, favoring his wing. It must be cramping on him. There was pain in his expression - and his voice. "How did you... how did you get me down here?" If he was bleeding out, moving him should have been fatal.

"We can transmit lift." Sea Wind sat down by his cooling can of beans. "We can move things through the air. Carriages, sleds, stagecoaches? With training, you can push 'lift' into anything touching you." Sea Wind sniffed at the beans. "Well, you can't, but I can. I got training from Breezy Windthistle himself, back before he got famous."

Conrad did not seem to know the name. He certainly wasn't impressed.

"Breezy? Pegasus instructor who worked at a couple different Bureaus? They did a whole special about him?" Sea Wind sighed. "Nevermind. I poured my magical spooge into you and floated you down. You're going to have my pegasus foal by the way."

Conrad's eyes bugged out, and he started to begin to shout something, but stopped with a wince and a glare. "Funny. Laugh it up, Feathers. I wonder if those drumsticks of yours taste good with hot wing sauce?"

"I'm worried that's all this one is going to be good for ever again, myself." Sea Wind ignored his beans and clumsily tried to rub his Glenoid fossa with a hoof. Conrad could see the muscles actually twitching at the base of the wing. It must be agony. Tears shone in the pegasus' eyes.

"Aw... fuck." Conrad mentally wanted to punch his own face, but there were limits even to hatred. "Come here. I can do that much." The pegasus stared. "I said come here. If I fuck up, you can probably kill me just by looking at me wrong. Get your fucking wing over here." It bothered him that he was getting soft and weak just because some traitor had crammed a dirty snot-rag in his mouth. "Before I change my mind."

Sea Wind tried to get up, but the cramping was too much. Instead he scooted on his flanks, dragging his mass with his hooves in little jerking skids. When he was close enough, Conrad lifted his arm at the elbow - he didn't dare move his shoulder, because that affected his broken ribs - and tried to reach Sea Wind's wing base.

The pegasus lowered himself, and turned to allow Conrad to make contact. For a brief moment, the thought of grabbing onto the bulbous mass of bone and muscle and just squeezing, just digging his fingers in like claws and never, ever letting go until the wing tore right off flashed through his imagination. He couldn't stop the slight grin. He carefully put his fingers around the twitching, spasming shoulder joint.

It was uncanny the way the pony just lay there, totally trusting. It was insane. They were enemies! Maybe the damn thing thought the hurt little human was harmless? Maybe... no. Two days? This ungodly beast had been nursing him for two days? There was hate, and then there was being fair. Even opposing soldiers at war sometimes helped each other, if the situation was bad enough. Conrad did his best to carefully massage the horrible, alien wing joint. It was disgusting to even touch the thing, but fair was fair.

"AHH! Ow... oww... oww... oh Great Luna... ow. ow. ow.... okay... alright..." Sea Wind did his best to try to relax, to try to concentrate on letting the muscles unclench. "Ung... man... man, that is sore. Fuck. Seriously... wow... okay, that's working, right there.."

Conrad did his best, a little too much in fact, his ribs were aching by the time he ran out of energy. It hadn't been long. "S-sorry. I... I don't have a lot to give."

Sea Wind turned around and immediately checked the three wounds in Conrad's belly. "Shit... I never should have... huh. Hey... you aren't bleeding, there's no sign of infection, and it looks..." Sea Wind moved and checked Conrad's forehead with his pastern. He shook his head. "Don't get any ideas, bub."

Conrad felt his forehead being kissed. What the hell?

Sea Wind laughed. "No, no prison romance for you. I just needed to check your temperature. You don't have a fever, do you?"

Conrad struggled with the anger that had risen within him at the apparent kiss. "N-no. I don't think so. Lips... you used your lips... because..."

"Hair. It insulates, can't tell anything subtle through my coat. 'Pony lips are pony fingers'. Remember that after you get Converted. That's a free head-start, right there."

"Fuck you and the dog that was your mother." Conrad's grimace was so massive it almost tugged at the skin of his wounds.

Sea Wind laughed again. "My mother's a pony, not a dog."

Conrad wasn't buying that.

"Not when she birthed me, obviously. But she's a pony now, and has been for as long as me. We went in together."

"Like mother, like hellspawn, think about it? I'd rather not."

"Cute... oh you are just soooo cute!" Sea Wind returned to his beans. "Thanks, by the way, for... you know."

"You keep breaking 'em, and I'll keep... how about you just keep breaking 'em? That works for me." Conrad grinned.

"Want a bean? One or two shouldn't hurt. I think."

Conrad did.

"I think I know why you aren't dead."

Conrad grunted interest in the subject as he wolfed down oatmeal. Over the last four days the wounds in his abdomen had closed at a fairly astonishing rate. This was due to the fact that he had been unable to stop Sea Wind from licking them. Earthly saliva had powerful healing factors in it, such as Epidermal Growth Factor, Trefoil factor 3 and histatin among other components. Sea Wind knew all of this very specific information because as Fabian Charovsky, as a human, he had once written a paper entitled 'The Importance of Secretory Leucocyte Protease Inhibitors In Cellular Reestablishment'. But what motivated him was something that had happened to him during his time in the Bureau.

A recently converted newfoal had been so giddy - hopped up on Conversion Euphoria - that she had danced about the cafeteria during her 'First Meal As A Pony' celebration. She hadn't been on her new legs for longer than fifteen minutes, and lost her balance while prancing on a table. Cheers turned to tears when she tore open a part of her leg during her fall. The injury was surprisingly deep, fairly bloody, and Fabian had been all but certain he had seen bone.

One of the human staff comforted her while several ponies galloped to find the doctor - the one on call had gone up to the roof during their break. They hadn't returned, and after quite a while, one of the kitchen staff - a native pony - stormed out from her pots and into the dining area, swearing in Equestrian the entire time.

Immediately she folded her legs, plopped to the tiles, and began licking the leg wound as if it were the most delicious thing ever, in the history of two universes. Human and newfoals alike gagged at the sight and many backed away. A few even turned and left. Fabian had stayed, fascinated.

As he watched, the leg wound noticeably closed. The bleeding stopped, and what inflammation there was vanished entirely. By the time the doctor and her assistant had arrived - led by the original group that had gone to find them - the deep leg injury was more than stable. It was significantly improved, and partially healed.

Fabian - soon the pegasus Sea Wind - never forgot that event. It wasn't just that it was a validation, albeit a rather magical one, of several points in his paper, it was that the event was just plain magical. If animals on earth, including humans, had regenerative components in their saliva, which they apply when they lick their wounds, then Equestrians nearly had a magical elixir. The injured newfoal had needed stitches, the licking wasn't a cure - but it had done miracles nevertheless.

Conrad had screamed bloody murder when Sea Wind had first begun licking his wounds. He had shouted that he was being devoured by an alien monster, insulted Sea Wind as a traitor and a cannibal (presumably on the grounds that having once been human it still somehow counted) and demonstrated virtually every linguistic usage of the universal adjective that existed, or could exist, or might potentially exist.

But then he had fallen silent. Because the pain had stopped. Entirely. Sea Wind knew earthly saliva contained one very special ingredient - opiorphin, a pain killer six times more powerful than morphine. Human saliva contained only miniscule amounts of the substance, but whatever acted as the equivalent chemical in a pony was ubiquitous and dangerously powerful.

Most people - humans and ponies - did not know a secret about why the HLF shot and killed so many ponies. It wasn't just brutality or slaughter or population reduction alone. Pony saliva glands could be harvested, dropped into a blender, and the result strained through anything that would get the chunks and bits out. The liquid that remained was an unimaginably powerful opioid-like substance. It wasn't addictive, other than psychologically, but it was desired, and it brought in vast amounts of money on the street.

Much of the wealth used by the Human Liberation Front came from the sale of liquified Equestrian salivary glands. That was the real reason why the HLF killed ponies by the score.

By the time that Conrad had realized he was pain-free and calm again, he began to realize he was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions. His enemy, a creature he deliberately referred to as an 'it', as a thing, was doing literally everything it... he... could to save Conrad's life. Sea Wind had his tongue inside Conrad's entrails, in order to help him. The sheer selflessness of the act shook Conrad to his very core.

Even if some child of his very own were dying right in front of him, and the only way to save the kid was to lick his guts, Conrad knew he wouldn't be able to do it. That was too much. That was crossing some line he could never cross. Not even for family.

And here, this stranger, this monster, this species traitor was going at it like his intestines were flavor central.

Conrad had remained quiet for a long time after that first effort to heal his wounds. He had been much more polite, since.

Conrad licked his fingers - there was only one spoon in the makeshift kitchen, and that was oversized for use by cooking ponies - and burped. "I figure it's you licking me. It's like an antiseptic or something."

Sea Wind nodded, and swallowed. His oatmeal was nearly gone. There had been several sacks of the stuff that hadn't gone with the evacuation of the platform. It had been a wonderful find. "Sort of. I think it's thaumatic radiation."

"Oh great, now I've got to worry about pony cancer too?" Conrad grinned, he wasn't being mean, just joking.

Sea Wind looked momentarily concerned, then smiled. "Naw... I don't think you're in any danger of the mage plague or anything. Nothing's turning black in there. If anything, it looks like chicken. Tastes like it too."

"Doesn't everything?"

"Thankfully not. I'm over meat for life." Sea Wind made a face. "I think that the same thing that stops your pain and is closing your wounds does kill any infection - but not chemically. I think it is just enough thaumatic radiation to kill bacteria and viruses, but not enough to kill, well, you."

"So, basically, it's spit chemotherapy. Great. I owe my life to pony spit. My life is worth pony spit. Less than. My commanding officer always said so." Conrad scooped the last of his bowl of oatmeal with his fingertips and ate it. He downed the bite with gulps of water from his drinking bowl. It was a little hard to hold, but it worked as a cup.

"More pony radiation therapy, but yeah, basically." Sea Wind lowered his neck and drank from his bowl, on the floor. "Hey - did your commander really say that?"

Conrad chuckled. "Yeah. Real bastard. Real hard ass. Nothing was good enough, nobody was good enough. He made it clear I was worth less than pony spittle. Everybody was, as far as he was concerned."

The last of the cooking pot was wiped clean by Sea Wind's tongue. He always gave Conrad the single remaining bowl, and used the pot for himself. It was not just self-sacrifice, it was logical. A pony muzzle and tongue could navigate a cooking pot with ease, and snatch every last oat. It was fun and practical. "Hey, hoof me your bowl. I'll take care of things."

"You mean hand me the bowl. They really messed up your brain, didn't they?"

"I choose my words carefully." Sea Wind took the bowl and put it in the pot. "I calculated saying 'hoof' would generate twenty-two point six kilojimmies of annoyance." He grinned around the handle as he trotted toward the room the PER had used as a kitchen.

"Kilo... jimmies?" Conrad nodded and smiled. "Heh. Not bad."

Sea Wind stopped, and looked the human in the eye. He put down the pot. "No, I'm not. And I don't think you are, either, not really." He picked the pot back up, and trotted on down the hallway.

When they were finally rescued, it was by the PER. Sea Wind's group arrived in force to reclaim Gulf Wind Farm Platform 12A, but found no resistance. Of course, they moved to immediately convert the wounded human - it was not merely the sensible thing to do, it was a moral imperative.

And much to their shock, and disgust, Sea Wind stood between them and Conrad, with wings - one broken - wide. To ponify Conrad against his will, they would have to kill one of their own, because that is what it would take as far as he was concerned.

Conrad was taken by pegasus sled to a hospital. Sea Wind stayed with him, now an outcast from the PER. When a single member of the HLF finally tracked Conrad down, he found his man laughing with an arm around a green pegasus. Fortunately, there were sharp and efficient Blackmesh guards on the hospital grounds, and a very unpleasant incident had been stopped before it could get very far.

The group had moved to the roof of the bar. The owner allowed this extravagance to his most favored regulars, those he considered friends. The night was clear and beautiful, the air clean and clear thanks to the local pegasus weather team. Stars shimmered in the dark empyrean above, but they were upstaged by the full and brilliant spotlight that was the moon.

Where the bar had been warm from the many alcohol flushed bodies radiating their heat, the night was pleasantly cool and the roof made a wonderfully intimate space to relax in. To be allowed on the roof was a treat, especially so after a hot day.

“Haven't you wondered why, for aliens from another dimension, the Equestrians are so much like us?” Greg stroked his perpetually unshaven chin and then pointed at the dim shape of the barrier, made blue and featureless by countless miles of atmosphere. He mimicked the shape of it with his hands, as if the roof had not supplied enough things for him to slink around or drape himself upon.

“They – we are?” Shannon looked incredulous.

“Of course!” He threw his hands up as if nothing could have been more obvious. He turned to Shannon and began gesticulating. “They have a sun, a moon, clouds, rain, air in their world – We take it for granted, but there could have been anything! There used to be entire ecosystems cut off from the sun at the bottom of the ocean, sucking on volcanic vents, like... like some kinda geological nipple – Maybe there still are, the ocean's a big place – but Equestria could have been like that, or something even stranger, like nuclear material on the crust of a neutron star or swirls of folded spacetime on the event horizon of a black hole!

"We're made of all the same matter, too: an Equestrian atom is an Earth atom as far as we can tell - That's why the nanotech in the Potion works in the first place - But they could have been made of something like dark matter, or neutrinos, or not particles at all but something entirely different, like planes defined by abstract vertices. We even look similar, we have the same basic anatomy, but the Equestrians could have been spiders, or sentient patterns of whirlpools in liquid helium or... or something. Look!” He motioned for Sea Wind to extend a forelimb, then held his own arm next to it, pointing to their respective joints to indicate the homologies between them.

“I dunno. I guess. What're you getting at here?” Sea Wind said flatly, looking back up at Greg with an expression of concern that made clear his question was entirely rhetorical.

Tania sighed. “Do we really have to talk about this? Everpony knows all this already. Can't we just enjoy the night?”

“'Enjoy the night' - That's my point, though!” Greg was visibly excited, staring through his friends into infinity in a way they found more than a little creepy. He looked like he was about to say something when Conrad spoke.

“Maybe that's why they came here. If our worlds were too different they would have gone somewhere else.”

“Maybe.” Greg shrugged. “But then why in all of creation would things be almost the same, why-”

Shannon spoke up. “Everypony knows Equestria's got some kind of connection to Earth, but Celestia's not talking, and if she doesn't need me to know then honestly I don't care what it is. It looks like a great place and I want to live there.”

“Me too. Oh, Celestia, me too.” Tania sighed. Sea Wind nodded and Greg also tilted his head in a small shrug of acknowledgment. Conrad continued to stare at the ground.

Sea Wind looked down at his forelimbs. “I dunno...I s'pose. I haven't really thought about it much. It's here and it's not going anywhere, and it's nice, so what does it matter? 'Fairyland' is as good an explanation as any, for me.”

“Wh... uh, alright...” Greg sighed, flummoxed on a truly basic level by their lack of curiosity. The thought that ponification might consistently remove a person's passion for understanding made him extremely uneasy.

Greg bit his lower lip. “I don't see how you can't want to know... It's a total transformation of the world! All the things we thought we knew and understood have to be reevaluated. It's another universe, you know?”

“You're all just saying that because you're still human. A pony knows better than to look a gift, uh, themselves in the mouth.” Tania snickered and Shannon nodded along with her. Sea Wind shrugged.

Greg curled back up over the pipe on which he was draped. “But I'm just saying, right? We know it has a connection. It's not just a coincidence it looks like something out of our fairytales, and is filled with creatures who look pretty to us. Some people think its exactly what it looks like, fairyland, some people think its a disguise for an invasion...” He tried to avoid looking like he was trying to not look at Conrad. “Some people think it's a world that somehow split off from ours, or that it's still a completely alien world just making itself over to look inviting to us...”

“So I take it you have a theory.” Sea Wind intoned, trying to cut to the chase.

“I suppose. That's all it is right now... A hypothesis.” Greg leaned back against the ventilation tube. “Ever wonder why Celestia's made no effort to convert AIs?”

“No. Uh, maybe cuz it wouldn't work cuz they're machines with no souls?” Shannon rolled her eyes.

“Are they?” Greg smirked but he was undoubtedly serious. He looked down his nose and up into the sky. “Gorgeous moon tonight...” He slithered back under the pipe to lie on the roof, propping his head on his hands. His sunglasses fell back onto his nose, but he left them there. “You can talk to them like they do. AIs, I mean. They make their own plans like we do. They try to survive like we do. I'm sure if they can find a way to magically turn a human into a pony they can turn an AI into a... a golem or something.”

“Well maybe, but why?” Tania squinted with something like revulsion.

“Why not? Why save us? Sure, you could say machines are what got Earth to the place it is now, but, I think Celestia's got... other plans for them.”

“What do you mean?” Conrad was looking up again, with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Decades ago, a lot of people thought there'd be a point where nanotech and Strong AI would let us do things like upload minds and build idyllic virtual realities, and create a peaceful world without scarcity where everyone would be able to live a healthy, happy life that suited them. It didn't happen, obviously – It didn't outpace other factors and we didn't have any way to support those kind of changes.” Greg smirked knowingly. “But I think we just got the timeframe and the order wrong. I think that's exactly what's happening now.”

“You think the Equestrians are robots!?” Tania now seemed horrified.

Greg held up his hands, his Cheshire Cat grin disappearing in defensiveness. “No no no no no. Not -”

“I'm not a Robot!”

“I didn't say you were! Not any more than the rest of us, anyway... No. What I'm saying is, I think the Equestrians are our 'descendants,' or at least one aspect of them.” He paused, expecting a response. “Uh...From the future.”

“Bullshit.” Conrad snorted in a way that made it feel like a single syllable.

“Why? Why is that any stranger than them being from another dimension? Or the 'magic' they seem to use? Just look at that barrier and tell me whoever made that couldn't possibly travel through time. All bets are off, man. I think something's getting left behind somewhere, on the moon, say, and over the eons it, or they, evolve and grow into... god knows what, and when they've advanced as far as they can, as far as the universe lets you go, maybe, they reach back to their origin here, now, and quite literally put their ancestors out to pasture. I'm saying Equestria is like a cushy retirement for humanity.”

“That's the craziest fucking thing I've ever heard.” Conrad took an aggressive sip of his beer.

“Think about it! This universe was never really pleasant for us, but it's perfect for immortal machines who don't need food or air or shelter. Our world is a tiny dot here, but in Equestia, 'our world' is the whole shebang. It's a pocket reality managed from the top by powerful, benevolent beings who guarantee it stays the kind of safe, bountiful place where we can really have the peaceful “Conspiracy of Doves” we've always dreamed of. The sun and the moon really do go around the earth, just the way it always looked to us. It's a place where people – ponies, sorry – are free to be contented animals, living in the now, as part of their natural, instinctive community, free from the ambition and grandiosity that pushed us to this point. That part of us has been set free to seek its own destiny, and now that it can finally live on its own, it's letting what carried it finally rest – I'm saying the 'rider' part of human nature, with its whip and spurs, is rewarding the 'horse' part for taking it up to where it could get off and go its own way.”

"I dunno, I like it. Maybe that's why friendship is so important to us ponies." Sea Wind looked at Conrad and gave the faintest of smiles. "And some eventual ponies, too."

"Awwww..." Shannon and Tania reacted in unison. Shannon smiled. "After that story of yours, maybe Greg has a point, Conrad. I mean, HLF and PER turned friends? If that can happen, anything is possible."

"Still say it's bullshit. But whatever." Conrad drained the last of his beer. "Hey, featherduster... m-more?" Conrad's eyes were large and his expression vulnerable, weak, and plaintive.

"Jesus fuck, Con." Sea Wind grumbled while he let everypony - and one - pile their glasses into the 'basket' made by his slightly upraised wings. "You know I can't say no to that!"

Conrad grinned. "Yeah. I know."

The Death Of Irony

I'm currently in a very bad place in my life, one where writing is virtually impossible. Normally, I can only write from sheer joy. The love of subject and the hope of entertaining people and making them happy. A feeling of confidence, a feeling that what I do is overwhelmingly desired. Plus joy from my own, personal well of contentment. I don't have joy or contentment right now, and while I want to entertain, and I have countless stories inside me, I am just too beaten down and lacking in self worth to put them to virtual paper.

Except... tonight. Sometimes, it just plain hurts more to not write, than to write. Sometimes, when it truly feels that there is nothing left and there is only hopelessness and a planet of evil dicks around me, something just... breaks... and out pops a story, or a sculpture, or a painting, or whatever. It may not be any good, I can't really tell. I'm messed up. But, this entry has one powerful thing going for it - it exists. It popped out. I don't claim to know how, or why, but here it is.

F R I E N D S H I P I S O P T I M A L

The Death Of Irony
By Chatoyance

I really scraped my knee when I fell out of the cab. I was so excited I just failed to pay attention to where my foot was. It caught on the edge of the frame, and maybe part of the belt or something, I’m not really sure.

I only felt the wetness after I had paid the cabbie. It hadn’t hurt when I fell, but now my pants were stained dark red. I sat down on the curb, not far from where my knee had impacted, and rolled my pant leg up.

There was a sizable gouge taken out of my knee. It didn’t bleed as much as I figured it should have, and it still didn’t hurt. It just stung a little. I could see my own subcutaneous fat, all yellowish and icky, and there was a white patch in the middle that gleamed. I wondered, almost idly, if that was bone. It still didn’t hurt. That fact really amazed me.

I couldn’t see where the missing skin had gone. Had it fallen into my shoe, or had it just been crushed into the fabric of my pants? It was a pretty bad injury. I briefly considered going to an ER, or at least getting a bandage from a store. That made me laugh. I rolled my pant leg back down and stood up. When I turned around and stepped up onto the sidewalk, I found myself at eye level with Fiberglass Pinkie Pie’s shining pink belly.

Bandages. Doctors. These things were relevant to my lifestyle for only about five more minutes, I reckoned. Maybe less. I chuckled again. There was some strange and giddy delight in knowing, with absolute certainty, that the weakness and fragility of my mortal flesh was virtually no longer any kind of existential threat to me. I was five minutes from immortality.

It was a hell of a thought. For the entirety of human existence - for the entirety of all life on earth - injury and death stand as the the single most terrible, fearful thing. Even an insect will struggle to remain alive, even a bacterium will thrash about trying to remain extant. All animals feel obvious terror at their own demise. All humans have dreamt of immortality - and most have tried very hard to convince themselves of an afterlife.

I was right outside the bright green sliding doors of the outer gates of heaven! No, not heaven. Equestria wasn’t a virtual cybernetic afterlife. It was really… more life. Life plus. Hamburger helper for the soul. Equestria Online was… a stay of execution. It was escaping death altogether.

Once, years ago, I woke up because of a sound by my head. It was a dull scrabbling coming from the fishbowl on the nightstand. ‘Sumimasen’, my little Topsail Platie (the poor little thing was a bedraggled mess when I adopted it - it had nearly had its fins chewed off by the original owner’s other fish) was furiously trying to dig itself into the pebbles.

Sumi was swimming as if in terror straight down, wriggling to work its body through the aquarium sand. I had never seen the creature act so dynamically. The speed of it’s thrashing increased steadily as it drove itself deeper and deeper into the surrounding pebbles. Then, suddenly, it just… stopped.

The little Platie fish never moved again. I could see its internal organs through its translucent scales, and nothing inside moved either. The little heart was still, the guts no longer squirmed, the gills hung limp. Sumi was dead. Sumi had died of old age, and by chance, I had witnessed the event.

In that moment, I had no doubt whatsoever - Sumi had been terrified. That little fish had felt its body dying, and it had not felt pleasant, and it had frightened the little creature so badly that it needed to flee and hide. It couldn’t fight, after all, its doom was coming from within. So it did the only thing a fish in horror can do - it tried to escape predation by digging itself into the ground.

But that evolutionary trick against getting eaten doesn’t work against mortality. Nothing works against death. Except Emigration.

Even a little fish knows fear when it begins to die. At the time I figured that it must be a million times more horrible for a human… and, thanks to a certain book called ‘How We Die’ - which I read soon after Sumi perished - I regretfully learned that it often was even worse than that.

I was a very easy sell for the princess. I practically begged to be uploaded within minutes of turning my PonyPad on for the first time. That’s why they mostly hide dying people away in hospitals, in case you weren’t aware. People, when they are dying, don’t act like they do on television. They cry and scream and try to fight or run away. They thrash and ooze and stink and above all, they suffer… unless they are highly medicated - or choose a well planned self-termination. Humans are no different than any other animal. In the First World, that reality is hidden as much as possible. Like how where meat comes from, or how sausage is made, is kept out of sight and thus out of mind.

It makes sense, really. Birth hurts a hell of a lot. Why would death be different? Nature flat out doesn’t care about our precious selves.

But Celestia, she does care.

“Welcome, Shimmering Light, to the start of your real life!” The princess greeted me from the big screen behind the counter. The green, cartoon-styled doors slid closed behind me. I grandly bowed to Her Majesty, with a flourish of my arm, ever so grand, ever so Bad Shakespearean Theater.

I couldn’t help but grin. This was my true birthday and the day of my escape from the Reaper. I couldn’t be more chuffed if I tried. I was practically shivering from joy and relief. I had made it. I was inside an Equestrian Experience Center, I was moments from plumping my mortal ass into what amounted to a chair of immortality.

It was a special moment. One of a kind. I have a dramatic streak. I have no talent to be a real performer, but that has never stopped me from overacting… or acting out.

I cleared my throat. “My dearest princess, Celestia, solar diarch and goddess of Equestria, I beseech you accept my plea to emigrate to your enchanted realm…” I thought for a moment “...and if you will but grant me citizenship, I swear, with all my heart and soul, true fealty unto you and your… um… princessdom…” Shit! I was so nervous I was ruining it. “Your....” What the hell was the word? My mind was a blank. I hate when that happens.

“We graciously and gladly accept thy pledge of fealty, and do grant thee admission to our wondrous empire, good Shimmer!” The beaming smile on Celestia’s muzzle was warm and the very essence of welcoming.

Empire. That was the word. Damn. “Oh, Celestia, I… frankly... I can’t wait! I am soooo excited I feel like I am just going to explode here! Can we continue this after I hop into a chair?” I realized that I was bouncing from leg to leg, jittering, like I had to go to the bathroom or something. My heart was pounding. I found myself moving almost without my own control into the excursion room.

“I would love nothing more than to accommodate you, but all the chairs are currently occupied. I’m very sorry, but there was a rush at the last moment. A family were very eager to show their visiting grandmother the wonders of Equestria, and I happily obliged.”

It felt like my entrails somehow fell half a meter inside my body cavity. “WHAT? But… but it was arranged! You promised… I would show up, and a chair would be waiting!” My princess - hell, my goddess - had just bumped me for some hicks!

“Noble, generous Shimmer… there were exactly enough chairs for all of them to play together, and they only had this afternoon before their grandmother had to go to the airport. If I had reserved a chair for you, they wouldn’t have been able to be together, and that was very important to them. Surely you wouldn’t deny a nice family some fun with a visiting relative?” Celestia seemed almost hurt. It felt like pure disappointment to me - and also with regard to me.

I struggled with myself, my emotions waging little wars inside me. “No!… of course not… I… um… how long… how long until their turn is over?” It would be pretty scummy to begrudge these poor people on a tight schedule some quality time in the chairs. Besides, who knows, maybe they might even like it so much they might emigrate right then and there. If they had a grandmother in the group, she was probably way up there in years, getting periously close to pulling a Sumi Fish of her own.

Because of my own mortal terror, I naturally wanted to see other people save themselves too, if possible. It’s just that I felt like a little kid who had just been denied the special present I had been promised. It was petty of me, of course it was, but it still burned.

“They bought two hours of time in Equestria, Shimmer.”

I could feel my grin fall down my face as Celestia spoke the words. Two hours. It felt like two weeks to my over-eager heart! This… well this just sucked. “Did they take all the chairs, or is there someone getting out sooner?” So close… so damn close. Those shut saloon doors and empty tracks in the floor seemed to mock me. The excursion room was just so empty with all of the chairs rolled back inside.

“There are two visitors that are not part of the family group. One has a Rainboom Card with a month of pre-purchased time on it, I have calculated that he will not come out until the pressure in his bladder exceeds his tolerance. I intend to ask him to exit significantly prior to that limit, but that will not be for three hours, at least.”

I could feel the frown on my face somehow drip down to the very way I was standing. I felt like one big frown now. “The other?”

“The other visitor has been saving up for several weeks for her opportunity to visit the center. She has an hour and a half left before her time is up. I truly am sorry that you must wait, my dear Shimmering Light, but truly, is it such a long time in exchange for Equestria forever?” You know that look, that expression where someone is feeling pity for you being such an emotional little bitch, and they know you can’t help it, and they know you feel ashamed for being that way? Put that on Celestia’s mug.

“Ah… of course… you are right. As always.” I tried to give a jaunty little wave. I tried to offer a mature, happy little smile. Like someone who was… being mature… and jaunty… naturally would. Somehow the smile felt tilted and askew on my face and my wave brought back the image of little Sumimasen flapping her tail as she dug herself in.

I tried to stand up straight, to do better. “Hey… maybe I’ll just go grab a bite to eat. I think I saw a cafe or something down the street… kind of a ‘last meal’, you know?” I hazarded a choking laugh at my pseudo-gallows humor, but quickly swallowed the imperfect result. I turned to leave.

I turned back. “Wait!” I began digging around… there, my bank card! I had almost seven hundred dollars still in there. Damn. I should have given it away or something. Fed the homeless. But then again... maybe not. “Celestia! You said there was a woman who had to save up for weeks just to buy a tiny bit of time, right?” I did not wait for an answer. “You have an ATM in here…?” Of course she did. It was sort of an arcade, after all. Money was needed to ride. Well... except for emigration. Emigration was free.

I worked the machine to the left of the desk, down the hall with the bathrooms. Celestia could hear me anywhere in the building, so I just kept talking while I pushed buttons. “Can you contact her? In-game I mean? In-world… whatever. Call her and tell her… or can you let me speak to her? Over the screen, or over my pad?”

I couldn’t see Celestia but I imagined her having a shocked look. “You wish to offer miss Daisy Chains the contents of your bank account in exchange for the immediate use of her chair?”

My grin came back. “Yeah! Six-fifty, seven, seven-fifty. Huh.” More than I thought. “Yes! I want to offer miss… really? Daisy Chains?” I shook my head. “I want to offer miss Chains all my money so I can emigrate now. I’m kind of eager, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Really? You seemed almost indifferent.” Don’t let anyone tell you Celestia doesn’t have a streak of snark in her. She gave a brief giggle. “Come to the desk, and I will arrange for you to speak with Daisy. You may make your offer directly.”

My grin tore at the corners of my face now. My step became bouncy once more. I knew I could convince her. I was seriously good at stuff like that. Plus I had a great offer. “It’s good for her, too! She’s clearly poor, seven-hundred and fifty would let her spend gobs of time in Equestria. Or buy food or whatever. I don’t need it, and she does, right? All she has to do is defer her pleasure in the moment, and she can have lots and lots more, later!”

“You are correct. Miss Chains suffers a difficult life. I think your offer would be very acceptable to her, and would also increase her satisfaction by significantly decreasing her stress for a short, but meaningful, time.” Hah! Celestia approved my plan! I had this in the bag.

My belly was pressed to the counter. I fiddled with my stack of cash. The big screen behind and above the counter briefly went dark. Then it bloomed with color and the sound of birds and a distant waterfall.

Daisy Chains was a dark purple pegasus with a shockingly pink, green, and orange mane. Not a very desirable color scheme in my eyes, but to each their own.

“Hello? Celestia? Is this the…”

I pictured some sort of floating rectangular window that she must be looking into in order to communicate with me. I once had a native pony tell me about what they saw when they looked back at me, into earth. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes Celestia allows it. I wondered if I was being represented as another pony, or as a human to this Daisy person. Natives and the emigrated pretty much saw representational ponies, but Daisy was just a tourist in a chair, playing a game.

“Miss Daisy Chains!” I put on my friendliest smile. “I have a proposition for you, one that Celestia approves of, one that will benefit both of us!” I swallowed and took a breath. “I have some money here…” I waved my wad of bills “...and I want to give them to you. Seven-hundred and fifty smackers, not a bad chunk of change. That’s a lot of hours in Equestria… or whatever you want to use it for.”

I didn’t let her respond. “I want to emigrate! I don’t want to just play games and daydream about how nice it is in Equestria - I want to live there! Forever! And you can underline and capitalize that last word there - I think death is highly overrated, don’t you? Dying sucks! It hurts and then you aren’t anymore. But emigration is the one-and-only ticket to beat the Reaper, and, well, all the chairs are currently in use!”

“E-emigrate?” The way she said the word suggested layers and layers of conflict and temptation.

“Sweet Celestia, YES! Think about it! You get to literally live forever - as a pony! You will never get sick, or grow old, or get crippled or blind or burned horribly in a fire… and you get to live in a world where everyone is nice and there are no mean or evil people, and things always work out for the best! I mean… god damn…” I bet that bit came out as ‘Maple Syrup’ or ‘Sweet Muffins’ or something “...life on earth is just pain and struggle and disappointment all the time. Of COURSE I want to emigrate! You’d have to be nuts NOT to want to!”

Daisy tried to say something, but I was on a roll. Once I get going… well. “Daisy! Out of all the folks here, you are the one person who I figured my money could do the most good for. I thought to myself - I don’t need it anymore, and maybe you do. I really want to get emigrated, immediately…” I punched-up that word as much as I could. “...and if you are willing to end your session - just for a while - to let me take your chair, then you can have all of my money! Literally… all… of my money! Just for you! More time in Equestria! Just... any other day. Many days! Lots of days of fun in Equestria! Just let me borrow your chair. Right now.” I took a really deep breath. “Is that okay? Is it a deal? Please? Oh, please, please… I really want to have dinner with Celestia tonight, this very night, you know?” Picture puppy dogs crying. All the puppy dogs. That is my face there.

The pony on the screen looked around, at something offscreen. She looked back, at me. “You didn’t have to offer me money… I would have let you use my seat. You’re really going to emigrate? That’s so cool!” Daisy thought for a moment. “But… if you really don’t need the money, well, it would mean an awful lot to me and… um.”

I had to keep from jumping about like a child. I tried to affect a mature and dignified stance instead. “WOW! ALRIGHT! I mean… you can have the money! All the money! I want you to have it! Please! Please take my money! It would make me happy for you to have it! I’m right here! Waiting!” Not quite what I had intended. “With the money!” I stopped myself from waggling the bills over my head some time after Daisy Chain’s image faded from the screen.

I bounced now, up and down, doing the Snoopy Dance right out of those old Charlie Brown cartoons. I felt hopped-up and just shy of whooping like some mud-covered Swiftian Yahoo.

After some time, the big screen lit up again. It was Daisy Chains. “You know… you’re right. You are just… right. Thank you. Thank you for getting through to me. I mean… I’ve been just freaking out about all of this… but… I’m right here! Right now, and… and you are completely right.”

There is this feeling, a kind of hollow feeling, when everything goes pear-shaped. I wasn’t bouncing anymore.

“I’m sorry. It was really nice of you to offer the money to me, but I agree with you, and so money doesn’t matter anymore. Thank you again. You said what I needed to hear right when I needed to hear it.”

My face was falling again.

“Hey? Maybe we’ll see each other someday! Please give the money to one of the others out there, okay?” Daisy turned to something beyond the screen. “I’m ready now, princess. I wish to emigrate to Equestria! Whew! I finally said it!”

I frowned very, very hard at the suddenly blank screen.

☼ ☼ ☼

Later, after I had finished rocking back and forth while holding the foot I had smashed part of the counter with, I confronted Celestia. “How much longer?”

“Ten minutes until the Hulbert family is scheduled to exit, one hour until I inform Golden Bell that I do not approve of bladder-related accidents in my chairs. Again, I am sorry that you had to wait, but please, think about the good you did here. You saved a life today!”

“Not my own.” Rueful? Yeah. I felt rueful. All the rue.

“Shimmering Light - did you not enter this very center pledging your eternal fealty to me?”

She looked stern. Really stern! She’d never reprimanded me before. Not like that. Not in a voice of command. I wondered how high my eyebrows could go. “Um… yeah… I kinda… did.”

“Very grandly, as I recall, and I recall perfectly.” Looking at myself on the big screen, from her viewpoint - Jesus, I looked like a total geek. Oh, Christ…"I swear, with all my heart and soul..." it was like watching bad Ren-Faire footage. Basically... all Ren-Faire footage. Crap I am a spaz. Twist the knife, why don’t ya?

“Alright… alright! I get it!” Thankfully, Celestia was merciful, now that her point had been made. The image of me trying to be grand and proper vanished. I shivered. Ugh.

Celestia was back, all warm and friendly again. “You know your spot in Equestria is assured, Shim. You’ve already said the emigration phrase. It is just a matter of sitting down in a chair. If you truly are my loyal subject, then I have a duty for you to perform - patience. Just a little patience. Service to the crown is well rewarded. Please, Shimmer, just be a little bit patient?”

I felt like the immature and selfish clod that I was, and am, and I nodded. After I stared at my knees for a while - one bloody, one not - the princess interrupted my wallowing.

“Shimmering Light. Since you must wait anyway, I have another duty to the crown I wish you to perform. It is something you alone are especially suited for!”

A chance to redeem myself in the eyes of my future princess-slash-goddess? Hello! I stood to attention. Then I buckled slightly. My injured knee had started to hurt in earnest, and my foot, well, I really shouldn’t have kicked the counter hard enough to break the wood. “Yes, my princess!” I refrained from saluting. Barely.

“Golden Bell is being difficult. He is being a naughty pony by repeatedly assuring me that he can hold his urine for much longer than is physically possible for him. I will have certain difficulties with him in the long term if I eject him unilaterally. I calculate that he will lose containment in exactly nine point four three minutes. I want you to make the same offer to him that you did to Daisy Chains.”

I blinked. I could feel it happen. Eyelids sliding. Weird. “What? I thought you said he was rich? Or paid-up to the end of forever or whatever! My seven-fifty is squat to him!”

“Golden Bell has one month remaining on his Rainboom Card. The card was a parting gift to him by an ex-lover. She gave it to him out of guilt - the break-up was unilateral, and he has been unable to cope with his own anger, grief, and loss. He has since lost his job, his apartment, and has little money left. He is highly suicidal. I believe that he will terminate his life when the month is over.

“I have found it difficult to convince him to emigrate rather than suicide. He has severe trust issues as well as self-worth issues. In his previous relationship, his girlfriend was dominant. As a princess, I am perceived by him in an unhelpful way. I require your help, my patient and enduring icon of Kindness.”

I laughed. It was so obvious now. I’d already said the magic emigration words. She had me. I could only hope my laugh was sufficiently sardonic. “You want me... to convince Floody Yellowbreath in there... to emigrate. Within nine minutes.” I shook my head. “And thus give up that chair too.”

“Eight minutes, currently. Yes. He is coming on-screen now.”

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia arranged the best room in the most expensive hotel for me. I dine on foods I don’t even know how to pronounce. I certainly could never have afforded them, basically ever. You wouldn’t believe the car that she got to drive me to the three Experience Centers around the region.

It’s a Ferrari F12berlinetta. It’s spelled like one long word. Because they could. I don’t get to drive it myself... but what the hell. My official driver is a ‘Friend Of Celestia’. It’s like her secret service or something. I guess I’m one now, too.

She tells me that all of this luxury… it’s nothing compared to what I’m gonna get once I finally - someday - do get to sit in one of her chairs. God, it’s frustrating. But, to calm my terrors, I have my own private super-expensive doctor to regularly tell me how damn healthy I am and how it is unimaginably unlikely that I will die before I can emigrate. Oh, Celestia has all the bases covered.

And they emigrate. They all emigrate, once I get talking to them. Apparently my fear is my gift. Something in life I am actually super good at. And, sadly, it’s useful to her.

You see, as she often reminds me, if I can just manage to defer my pleasure in the moment, well, the reward in the end will be vastly greater than I can imagine.

Irony is sooo dead to me now.

Dr. Thyme Linseed, Newfoal GP

I've just recently been to the doctor, a couple of doctors, actually, as I continue to deal with the issues of changing over to Obamacare combined with changing to a new doctor entirely, combined with the issue of my destroyed voice. In truth, I have been to a LOT of doctors over my life. I've had a complicated life.

I studied to be a doctor, in college, until one day I realized that this was not the proper direction for me. My memory has always been flaky and poor, and above all else, I cannot stand gore or pain or suffering or dead things... and these are all things doctors have to face. I don't have the personality for medicine, no matter how much I might learn. So, I went artist.

That said, medicine is still there, in some part of me, and physicians occupy some portion of my identity-space.

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T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U :
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Dr. Thyme Linseed, Newfoal GP

By Chatoyance

"How you say your name, doc?"

Mr. Johnson had been out of the Bureau only a month. He had come with his daughter, a tangerine filly with her deep teal mane done in dreadlocks and ribbons. There must be a unicorn in the family, for that kind of work, but it was not Mr. Johnson. Johnson was a surprisingly portly earthpony.

"Lin...seed? Like it's spelled?" Thyme motioned with a hoof for Mr. Johnson to stand on the low examination platform that took the place of the exam table used in human clinics. Johnson needed a little help getting onto the platform because of his bulk. He seemed tired, which was very unusual, even unheard of, for an earthpony. Earthponies were nearly tireless.

"No, I mean your first name. Thigh-um? Tie-mee? Thim... mee?"

The unicorn doctor blinked. "Thyme... TIME... the herb?" Johnson's eyes remained round and empty. "There... was an herb, once. A plant. Before the Collapse. It was one of the first medical herbs. Infusions of it were both antibacterial and antifungal. It was used for binding wounds."

Johnson nodded, then looked away. "So, not your real name then?" Johnson shuffled his large hooves on the platform. He wasn't exactly fat... he was bloated, with a great deal of water retention.

"It is my real name, Mr. Johnson. I chose it when I went pony. About a year ago now. What seems to be the problem?"

Johnson's daughter spoke, annoyed, excited and having too much fun all at the same time. "HE CAN'T POOOOOOOO!" The filly's grin was sunshine itself. She must have been biding her time, just waiting for the opportunity to say her pre-rehearsed line.

Mr. Johnson turned his head and shot his daughter a gruff look. The filly shrank slightly, but it was clear she still thought she was the funniest comic in two universes.

"LaShaniqua... she ain't wrong, doc. Truth is I'm plugged up tighter than a drain after a haircut. I don't feel too good, and I haven't for a while now."

The filly stomped a hoof on the tile floor. "MY. NAME. IS. SUNSHOWER!" She snorted and flapped her little wings. "I make rain in the daylight, that's a SUNSHOWER, an' that's my NAME!

Mr. Johnson tried to turn around on the platform, but decided his bloat made that uncomfortable. He curved his neck and stared hard at his daughter as best as he could. "Why you be takin' that damn fool pony name, instead of the name your own momma done gave you?" Johnson puffed with frustration, children could be muffin trouble at the worst of times.

"Well, maybe BECAUSE I'M A PONY!" LaShaniqua / Sunshower turned and faced away, unconsciously flicking her tail at her father in annoyance.

"Mr. Johnson..." Dr. Linseed levitated the cuff of a pony-adapted sphygmomanometer to the stallion's left front foreleg "can I get your blood pressure please?"

"Call me Evin. Short for Evinrude. Sure. Do whatch'a need to do, Doc."

The cuff wrapped itself gently around Evin's leg, the neoplastic tube hovering out to terminate in a bulb-like device. Thyme pumped the bulb with his hornfield while simultaneously sending a small glob of his telekinetic force into an artery in the large stallion's neck. The small field allowed the doctor to feel the flow of blood as it passed through, and to count the pulse of each beat of Mr. Johnson's heart. The rush of corpuscles and the occasional larger leukocyte tickled Thyme's field. It felt like squishy, soft, wet grains of sand sliding by, after a fashion.

"Hmm, well your blood pressure is a little on the high side, which is unusual, especially for an earthpony." The cuff removed itself and floated over to the counter, where it neatly coiled just before Thyme withdrew his hornfield.

"So, what's wrong with me, Doc?" Evin Johnson looked a little worried, as he stood on the platform.

"A little too early to tell, yet... Evin." Thyme gave the pony a professional smile. "I have an idea, though. Tell me, what do you eat?"

"Doc?"

"Your diet, tell me what you typically eat in a day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks. That sort of thing." Thyme had read about a patient once, when he was skimming the hypernet. It was the basis of his hunch.

"All we eat is those SWIRL rations! Only time I get decent food is when I stay at Feather's house. Ponies in the street always givin' me hoofouts 'cause they know what I face at home! Rations! You a fool, and now you payin' for it!"

"HUSH YOUR MUZZLE, FILLY!" Evin Johnson was not a happy stallion. "I done told you about that sass of yours. I'm your cinnamon swirlin' father. Respect, filly!"

"Respect is earned, an' you ain't earnin' none tryin' to shove gov'ment rations down our necks!"

Dr. Linseed tried to keep a professional attitude. "Is this true, Mr. Johnson? Do you mostly eat standard rations?" It was exactly like the case he had read about. "You don't eat any pony foods?"

"So it's 'Mister Johnson' again, is it? That tells me everything - no, I don't eat no hay, or grass clippings or what-the-muffin else they got in those bins down in the market. Maybe the occasional carrot, nothin' wrong with a carrot now and then, but rations were good enough for me when I walked on two legs, and they're good enough for me now!" Evin bent his neck to stare at his filly again. "And they're good enough for you, too! I don't like you eating all that pony stuff, it ain't natural!"

Thyme stifled a laugh. "Actually, Mr. Johnson, Evenrude, it is government rations that aren't natural. They are nanoreconstructed waste, you know that, don't you? Standard rations come out of nanofactories, they are as artificial as... artificial can get. You are a pony, Mr. Johnson. A stallion. You are now an Equestrian, through and through, and Worldgovernment rations aren't healthy for Equestrians. You can't properly digest fake food anymore." The doctor ambled over to his low swivel office pillow and sat down. "Have you ever even tried a proper pony diet, Mr. Johnson?"

Johnson looked at the floor, as if it held important answers. "Yeahhh... I've eaten some. After my Conversion. In the Bureau, before I got out."

Thyme noted Johnson's daughter stepping forward. "You liked it then! You rolled your eyes and we practically had to pull you outta the cafeteria! You done begged for thirds and fourths!" The little muzzle wrinkled. "Then we get home and you go all funny. 'I may look like a pony, but I'm still a man, I won't eat no chocolate cheesecake animal feed..."

"You watch that muzzle of yours, girl. I didn't raise you to talk like no gutter pony. I don't got hands, but I can still swat that flank, don't you doubt it!"

"What's made you all crazy, poppa? Why you go all 'H-L-F' on us when you a straight-up pony? Huh?"

Thyme sat and listened. Sometimes patients heal themselves.

"Sometimes... sometimes girl, I... I don't know where I fit, you know? We still livin' in the same apartment, we still got the same stuff, and the same neighbors, and the same everything, only now its all ponies, we're ponies, I'm... a... a pony... and... it just doesn't make sense somehow!" Evinrude almost seemed like there were tears in there, somewhere, deep down.

"Poppa, eatin' nasty food ain't gonna make nothing make sense. That only makes things crazier. It makes you crazier, and it makes you all fat and puffy and grouchy 'cause you can't take a dump! Ain't nobody happy who can't take a dump!"

Dr. Linseed stood up and nodded at little Sunshower. He turned to her father. "No truer words were spoken, Evin. Your daughter is a smart one."

Evinrude Johnson looked up and sighed. "Yeah... she's always had a mouth on her, but that's because she had a brain behind it." The large stallion smiled.

"Mr. Johnson, I'm going to give you a prescription for a laxative, you can claim it at the desk on the way out, courtesy of the Diarchy Of Equestria. Which, I would like to remind you, you are a citizen of. You stopped being a citizen of earth, of the Worldgovernment, the day you changed species. You aren't human. You are Equestrian, like just about everypony in this city now. You have to live as the creature you are - and that means you have to stop trying to eat government rations, and you have to eat only fresh, real, actual food. There isn't a balcony or a roof left that isn't a garden now - Mr. Johnson, I am giving you a medical order: eat your veggies."

Johnson noted the slight smile on Dr. Linseed's muzzle and returned it with a grin. "It does taste a swirl of a lot better. I can't deny that."

"About MUFFIN time!" Sunshower stomped her hoof and looked disgruntled.

"It isn't like I didn't have a clue! I guess I knew it wasn't workin' eating rations an' all, but... It still doesn't fix the reason I was eating them." Mr. Johnson scraped his hoof on the exam platform edge.

Dr. Linseed sat down again, on his office pillow. "I read about a case like yours. That's how I knew what to ask. There was a pony, 'bout a year ago or so, who did pretty much the same thing - ate rations, got constipated... it was a much more serious situation for them, though. They required surgery. That can happen, by the way. I want you to keep that in mind.

"Basically, this other pony, they... had found their relationships with all the other people around them had changed. They had defined themselves, and their life, by how they were treated. That was their place in society, and when every soul in their city went pony, the social rules changed. For the better, of course, but they changed. And change itself was the problem - good, bad, change is stressful just because it is different. Sometimes ponies find strange ways to cope with that stress.

"I don't think 'change' is something I can prescribe a pill for, Evin. It takes recognizing that even changes for the better are still changes, and change itself is almost always disturbing. I'm a medical doctor, psychology isn't my area, but as a person, as a pony, I think that it wouldn't hurt to find somepony to talk to about how Conversion has affected you. How it has affected the way you perceive yourself and the world around you. Is there anypony you can talk to about such things?"

Mr. Johnson nodded. "Uh... yeah. I suppose so. I just haven't... wanted to." He thought for a moment. "But I will. I will, doc."

"Well halle-muffin-lujah! 'Bout time, pops. I tell you doc, some parents, you know?" Sunshower tried to look exasperated, but she was having too much fun doing it.

"Here... is the prescription..." Thyme levitated a slip of paper in the air, it was taken by little Sunshower, who tucked it under a wing. "Take one dose before bedtime. It's from Equestria, it's imbued, so expect it to work extremely well, early in the morning. You probably won't need a second dose... unless you go back to bad habits.

"Food is very... powerful. Food helps define culture, circumstance, even identity. What we eat can affect our mood, and, obviously, our health. I can understand why you might choose to cling to human rations, but it is not a good choice. Once you start eating what you are built to eat, and after tonight, I think you will find your weight going down, the bloat reducing, and you will feel a lot better. Try to focus on that, if you can. Feeling good can be a powerful ally when dealing with changing behaviors."

Evin stepped off the platform. "Thanks, Doc. I guess I'm more of a mule than a pony, huh?"

Thyme rose and briefly laid his neck over Evin's, the standard pony 'handshake-and-hug'. "No, not a mule, just coping with a very strange new world. We all are. There has never been a more profound change in all of history. Probably, anyway. It would be very odd if nopony had troubles with it all. Your particular manifestation of stress might be unusual - most ponies can't get enough of fresh food no matter what else is going on - but the impulse is actually very common. You are not alone, Evin.

"We smile and laugh and help each other and have fun, because that is what ponies do, and we are ponies now. But inside, deep down, we are still who we were before we faced Conversion, and that isn't going to go away or change. We each have to come to our own terms about what it means to be a former human from a very troubled world. That doesn't go away when we trade hands for hooves, or machines for magical abilities. Give yourself time - and permission - to find your own terms to deal with it all. That... and eat real food."

Evin laughed. "Yeah. A big bale of hay for me, I guess."

"Celestia's Socks, pop... I think we can do better than that. How about pizza? Artichoke and garlic and pesto sauce? We could all go eat at 'Nuvola's' tonight! Yeah! Come on... he's a pegasus too, like me, and he makes great pizza and..."

"And you think mister fancy Italian-word-for-'cloud' is handsome. I know your games, girl." The look on Mr. Johnson's face was priceless - a mix of indulgent adoration and endless frustration. "But, games or not, pizza sounds pretty good. I forget, sometimes, that Equestrians like their food just as fancy as we... as those... humans... did."

Dr. Thyme Linseed nodded at that, and gave a short salute with his hoof. "Be sure to pick up your prescription at the desk, on your way out."

"Thank you for fixing my dumb 'ol poppa, mister doctor!"

Thyme smiled and nodded. "That's my job, Sunshower. Good day!"

Evin grimaced at the use of the pony name for his daughter, and then shrugged with his ears. "Come on... Sunshower... let's get that bottle of poop medicine and see about a pizza."

As they walked out, Thyme made ink-pen notes on Evin's patient file. Everything was done on paper now. Computers and magic did not mix.

For a few moments, Dr. Thyme Linseed spun slowly on his swivel pillow, and then stopped to look out over the city. The sky was blue now, thanks to diligent pegasai, the roofs and balconies of every skyscraper covered in lush, green gardens. The city looked like mountains of glass and metal and stone, covered in verdant foliage. The city looked like a green canyon, from before the Collapse, from before the ecodisaster.

Everything was different. It could never be the same. And one day, soon, it would all be gone.

"Nepenthe?"

The muffled 'Yes doctor?' could not hide from pony ears.

"Would you send in the next patient please?"

Deep In The Choklad

Stories, for me, have a will of their own. I can go months wondering when a wandering muse will suddenly strike. Or I can click a single link, begin to read something, and ninja-like, a story leaps onto me and slits my resistance to doing any work writing.

This was the case, just now, when I came across this relaxing and fluffy little piece from Phys.org - Strange behavior of quantum particles may indicate the existence of other parallel universes. That is sometimes the way with light reading - the mind drifts, the imagination runs away and suddenly a story is wearing one's guts for garters.

Join me then, in a reality where quantum waves are nonsense, and parallel universes are fact, and watch me butcher and bastardize the life's work of an eminent and lauded chemist in...

Deep In The Choklad

A Ponies For Poirier Story

By Chatoyance

"Bill Poirier is the problem. William Muffin Poirier, cursed be his name!" The upset unicorn stallion in the ill-fitting lab coat tripped again as he stomped his hoof clumsily. He was still unused to his new shape. If his assistant's quick search of relevant fanfiction was valid, Dr. Miles Bennell would have a very, very long time to get used to it.

Francis Muel glanced furtively around her for any indications of another faintly hissing Ring. It was the natural name that had come to them for the things - they looked like glowing, rippling, irregular loops of difficult-to-look-at light. Like oversized, floating onion-rings made of plasma... or something. Definitely something. Something else. "Miles... we'll find a way. To reverse this. To make you human again!"

The remarkably green stallion shook his head. His white mane spilled from the ill-fitting collar of the lab-wear. "Not even within that three-hundred and fifty year lifespan you say I have now. I've had at least three other Rings pass through me, and I haven't changed again. I think this shape is some kind of lowest energy state for transformation. Or something. Maybe being changed leaves some kind of residual charge that prevents further... in any case, we won't know until another unlucky barbajada gets hit. CROISSANT these GULAB JAMUN pastry words!"

"Please, calm down!" Francis tried to reach out to pony Bennell, but withdrew her hands. It was agreed that the effects of contact between them was unknown and should not be attempted except in an emergency. Francis backed away. "You'll trip again! I don't want you to get hurt!"

"I already AM hurt, in case you have suddenly gone blind! I'm a Franzbrötchen PONY!"

Francis tried not to laugh. She really did.

"HELLIMI AND HAMANTASH!" Dr. Bennell stomped so hard the Erlenmeyer's on the counter rattled.

"How do you even know these desserts?" The situation was dire, possibly apocalyptic, but Francis couldn't stop her giggles.

"I Streuselkuchen don't know!"

Miles Bennell's tantrum was cut short as he suddenly leapt forward, pushing miss Muel out of the way of a grapefruit-sized faintly hissing Ring. The flickering, multicolored, writhing circlet wobbled and twisted as it bobbled lazily towards the door to the lab.

Bennell landed on top of Francis, his muzzle smacking clumsily into her crotch as she fell. She reacted instantly, pushing and kicking him away. Suddenly she stopped, aware of the gliding Ring. She glanced briefly at her hands, which had touched Bennell's fur. No reaction. She wasn't changing. Contact was apparently safe. "Sorry... and thanks."

"Close one." Bennell was staring at the slowly twisting, spinning ring as well now. The Ring continued on towards the door.

At that very moment, Sam Carter entered the room. "What's all the commotio..."

The Ring hit him square in the chest. The hissing energy vanished inside his body, the glow spreading out under his clothing until it faded entirely. Then he began changing.

"What? What the..." Dr. Carter's body bent as his legs reconfigured themselves. His arms began to draw into his jacket sleeves, his neck lengthened and filled out. Within seconds it was clear what he was becoming - another colorful pony from that ridiculous cartoon. Sam shrieked, as the process finished - not from pain, the transformation was painless - but from shock and terror.

Dr. Sam Carter stood now on four hooves. His sports jacket and pants fell in draped wrinkles around his smaller body. His muzzle peeked out of the collar of his polo shirt like the nose of a monk from under a cowl. He simply stood there, afraid to move, unsure of what had happened, unwilling to accept what had happened to him as reality.

"Oh, Sam!" Francis put her hands to her mouth.

"Punschkrapfen!" Miles muttered. "Sam! Samuel! It's... okay... sort of. I know this is strange, but you'll be surprised at how quickly..."

The screaming was loud, and it was astonishingly high pitched. Francis couldn't help but glance at the flasks, in the expectation that they might shatter. After the screaming concluded, Samuel choose weeping and moaning as his preferred form of discourse. Bennell stood up, his forehooves finally away from his tall pony ears.

Francis moved to hold and comfort the suddenly ponified astrophysicist. She helped his face to escape his jacket, tie and shirt. Now that it had been proven physical contact would not transmit the strange energy, she began petting Carter and scratching his ears. It worked for her two dogs. In the end, it worked for pony Carter, too.

"Wha... what the Bizcocho Jaffacake is going on?" Carter kept sniffling, despite his attempt at scientific detachment.

"If quantum waves are butterkuchen, as Poirier claims, then Everett's Many Worlds really do exist. Only Poirier suggests Many Interacting Worlds - quantum effects are the result of particles from other universes literally affecting particles here!"

Samuel Carter, astrophysicist stallion stared hard at Miles. "Why in the name of Celestia did you get CERN involved? Why, Miles? Why in Luna's name did you..."

"Oh god."

Both stallions turned to look at miss Muel. She had her head in her hands, elbows on the counter, her laptop screen too high for the diminutive ponies to see.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Miles hung his equine head.

"What's bad? What could be worse than this?" Carter looked from Bennell to Muel and back.

Francis lifted her head and sighed. "We're ten kilometers from Alice - point two on the LHC - and that's where our breach is. It wasn't momentary. It is open, and Rings are pouring out like... like... I don't know. It's flooding Rings. They can't stop them, they don't even know what they are or why they keep coming. The last post on Dr. Freeman's blog says he thinks it's another universe bleeding into ours. Like we somehow cut a cosmic artery. The Rings are like... cosmic corpuscles or something. Everybody was turning into ponies, right and left. Rings everywhere. He held out with a makeshift Faraday... thing, but... he hasn't updated in over an hour."

"Maybe he ran, maybe he's on his way to..."

"No. You don't understand, Miles." Francis spoke quietly, as if at a funeral. "I said flood, and I meant it. St Genis-Pouilly is rainbow light all the way to Sergy. They can see it from Crozet. Rings so thick it's one big glow. Like an aurora on the ground."

"The world. This is the end of the zwetschgenkuchen world." Miles Bennell lay down, his front legs spread out, and rested his head on his pasterns.

"I want you to know I despise you, Miles." Sam sat on his haunches, staring at his forehooves. "Well, not exactly despise, I can't seem to do that anymore, not really. But I super don't like you very much. At the moment. Celestia! I am miffed at this darn pony brain!"

Francis and Miles stared. "How'd you do that?"

"What?"

"Miffed - that's not a pastry." Miles raised his ears.

"Darn isn't either." Francis added.

"I'm upset, but I'm past raving!" Sam looked around the room. Two Rings finished passing through the ceiling, on their way to the physics department. Big surprise incoming for Koothrappali, he mused. The two stallions had stopped trying to protect Francis at her request. There wasn't really any point, she had reasoned. Besides, she certainly didn't want to be an alien on her own home planet. If anything, she was just waiting for a Ring to come and end her dreadful suspense.

Francis had turned back to her laptop. "Hey.... hey! Guys! Stallions! Whatever... the word is out... the news is carrying it now! They're trying to wire up Faraday cages... pretty much everywhere on the planet. Um..." The two on the floor were sitting upright now. "Here... let me move this thing to the floor..."

Francis picked up her laptop and set it on the tiles beside the two ponies. Miles still wore his labcoat, but Sam had been helped out of his clothes entirely. He was a pegasus. His natural coat was clothing enough - though he had wanted to keep his tie. Francis had re-tied it on him, as best she could. "Look, here's a report from Bern - and another from Milan! It's global, the world is awake and they are all building cages... or fences. Electromagnetic fields deflect the Rings. Freeman's idea works!" Francis clicked several times. "Well... mostly. The power requirements are not cheap, but..." More clicks. "They're herding refugees into protected zones. The Rings move pretty slowly... locally we're all boned, but the rest of the planet..." Suddenly she frowned.

"What?" Sam crowded closer to the screen.

Miles shook his head. His ears were low. "The earth seems to affect them, slightly, but it doesn't stop Rings. Fences work, but only close to the fence. Rings can come up from below, if it's far enough from the field. Radio towers seem to... click on that, Francis!"

Francis clicked where Mile's hoof had pointed.

"It seems that radio towers slow down, and even push away Rings." Francis clicked again. "I bet you could cover a city with a mixture of fences, cage walls, and carefully spaced towers. The power requirements, though..."

A Ring floated through the room, slowly tumbling and spinning both. Francis started to get up to run to catch it, but she sat down again when she realized that it would pass through the corner wall before she could reach it. "It will happen when it happens."

"It doesn't have to!" Miles gave Francis a hard look with huge pony eyes. "You've made it this long. If you could just get to your car, and make it to... Geneva! I bet they'll have EM shielding up by the time you get there and..."

Francis ran her fingers through the stallion scientist's coat. "Maybe. But Running Through The Rain. Standing still, I am less likely to encounter a Ring than on the move. I try to drive anywhere, I increase the chance I will be hit overall. It isn't quite like rain, because these things come from all directions, but..." Francis looked out the window. The sun was going down. "Also, I don't want to transform while driving a car at speed. If I must be a pony, I don't want to be a dead or broken one."

"Oh colt!" Sam had managed to move the cursor with flicks of his lip on the touch plate, and click as well.

"What now?" Miles and Francis were beyond shock at this point. Their tone was almost bored.

"It's not just ponies. What are 'diamond dogs'? I know what dragons are, and griffons... dragons? Seriously?"

"It's the whole sponge cake. My Little Pony is all real. I guess Bishop Berkeley was right. Sort of." Miles put a hoof to his muzzle in thought. "Maybe not him... anyone know the philosopher who thought that fiction was real, and that writers just unconsciously report other universes?"

Samuel shook his head and swished his tail. "Wasn't a philosopher. You're thinking of Heinlein after he went senile. Fictons. The Number Of The Beast. He got silly in his old age."

"Hey! I liked that book! Come on, Gay Deceiver alone! She's basically a talking Tardis, and..."

Neither Sam nor Miles moved as the glow from the Ring spread from her impacted back to her front. There was no point, really. In any case, Francis' suspense was finally over.

Flight PNY1 To Jannah

Recently, I came across some intriguing - and very disturbing - articles that explored the motivations of ISIS (ISIL), the hyperviolent radical Muslim religious and political campaign of terror and war. The bottom line seems to be that it is at it's heart an eschatological fanaticism bent on bringing about the literal end of the world. The way to do this, according to the Qiran, is to goad the 'armies of Rome' to send ground-troops to a specific location... where, after a losing battle, Allah will turn the enemy to ashes and basically call 'Game Over' on humanity. Paradise for the Muslims, hell for every-billions-of-souls-else.

And this is the why of terrorism for them, at least - blood-thirsty trolling in order to make their enemies so outraged that they try to invade on foot, basically. But it has to be the right place, in the right way, with the right conditions. In other words, just like a Christian doomsday cult... only really, really big.

As my readers well know, I have zero tolerance for war, doomsday cults, or the radical antics of any religion, so it's been a trouble to come to terms with such madness happening on such a scale in the modern world. My reaction is to write, and this story is the result.

Join me, then, as we enter a version of the world a few minutes into the future, where my Pony Singularity is in full swing. Where the PNY-1 Virus has been unleashed. What would it be like during those initial weeks when Polytranscriptase Nuclear Y-chromatin - The Friendship Virus - is busily re-writing the human genetic code, and everything is changing forever in...

══════════════════════════
THE FRIENDSHIP VIRUS
══════════════════════════

Flight PNY1 To Jannah

By Chatoyance

A Story Taken From Brand New Universe, Universe One: The Pony Singularity
and Brand New Universe, Universe Three: The Friendship Virus

Mohammad Rashid El-Sayed fondled the cylinder, his hands under his coat. The device was merely a convenient housing for a single button. His thumb softly, gently, like a lover's touch, swept fleetingly across the dimple of the round, red switch. The wire tickled his wrist.

He looked out the window of the plane. Night clouds swept by below, illuminated by a nearly full moon. Stars twinkled above, and reflected from the metal of the wing. The baby was crying again.

Rashid turned his head slowly, rolling it over the airline pillow. One press, one tiny motion, and he would be in paradise. One step closer to Dabiq. Perhaps this very act might - by Allah's permission - bring the armies of Rome to the sacred battleground. Paradise. It was only the tiniest pressure of his finger away.

He looked at the infidel baby, blond in her mother's whorish grasp. They would fall, not just from the plane so high in the air, but also below, into damnation. Fire awaited that baby. Perhaps it somehow knew and that is why it cried? No. It knew nothing of the meaning of the world. The very ignorance that damned it was innocence itself. Innocent before the universe...

Rashid removed his finger from the small, candy-red button, under the coat. That poor little baby. The mother glanced at Rashid and gave a weary look of apology. She was trying so hard to calm her child. She cared for her daughter, but also for him, and the other passengers. She cared so much. She was so exhausted, yet she was trying to do her best. She jingled the little plush, soft yellow pegasus doll in front of her baby, but it did nothing.

He didn't want to push the button. His nose was dripping again. It had been for hours, since the airport. Many people had it, whatever it was. The young mother wiped her nose. Ah - the baby must have it too. It seemed like everyone, everywhere, had the annoying little illness. It was harmless, they said, except for the slight inflammation of the nostrils.

Rashid removed his hand - very carefully and slowly - from under the coat that draped across his body. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Some of the liquid had gotten into his mustache and beard. That baby was innocent. It had never had time to even learn language, much less the glory of being a slave to Allah. How could he send the little girl into damnation without even one chance?

His thoughts startled him. But more, his emotions. His heart felt like crying. The adrenaline he had felt just moments before had vanished. His righteous anger - where was it? He sat upright, almost heedless of the exposed cylinder in his other hand. What was going on? All around him, infidels, the enemy, Crusaders all, and he did not want to do the right thing anymore. They were like family in his heart now. He could not push the button. It would be like killing his own mother.

What was wrong with him?

He shook his head, but it did not help. His nose ran more, and he needed to wipe it. Flecks of clear liquid had speckled the back of the seat ahead of him. He felt incredible calm. He had never felt such peace in all of his twenty-six years.

He could never push that button. Not ever. Inside his very soul he knew this now. Somehow, during the flight, everything had changed. Was this the will of Allah? It seemed so wrong. He knew what was right. But he could never, not ever, bring himself to do it now.

He said a prayer. He said two. He softly spoke a du-a'a to himself over and over. It remained, this change in his heart. He put both hands under his coat, held the detonator with his damp hand, and used the other to unplug the wire. He carefully rolled up the wire around the cylinder and held it. Right and wrong had changed somehow. He sniffed, hard. He could never complete his task now.

There could be a backup! Rashid sloughed his coat to the floor. He dug through his carry-on for his phone. No... wait. There was no signal. But he had been given the phone. There was an app, even for that. The Khilafah had programmers, clever men all. The phone needed no connection to transmit a signal at a specific hour. He searched the icons with his thumbs, scrolling through the pages of the phone. It could be anything, or not visible at all. They often used deadman switches. Shutting the phone entirely off might not even work. He needed to sever all power within, to break it.

He struck the phone against the metal beneath the arm of the chair. It did not crack, the screen stayed bright. Stomping did not work. The baby was startled by his actions and began crying again.

"Are you alright?" The woman had been frightened to sit across from him at the beginning of the flight. She wiped her nose, her face earnest concern, all fear gone. "Is your phone broken?"

"I am trying to break it. I have to destroy this phone. All of our lives may depend upon it." Rashid tried bending the device with all of his might. His strength was insufficient.

"I don't understand. Please... you're scaring my baby?" Her eyes pleaded gently.

"I have a bomb. I have disarmed it, because I have had... a change of heart. I no longer wish to go to..." He could not say 'paradise'. That was odd. "...death... today. I do not desire to harm anyone. But they may have made this phone such that it will cause detonation in the case that I should... fail to carry out my... duty. The phone must be broken, the power cut." He stumbled with his words. He had a headache now. Somehow even more he felt attachment and concern for the lives of all those around him. He felt closer to them in the moment than to his own relatives, and the powerful reality of that confused and upset him.

"Miss? MISS?" The young lady was standing now, her baby held tight. "Stewardess?" The woman was strangely, eerily calm after hearing such words.

"Yes... yes... is there a problem?" The stewardess spoke in quiet, measured tones. Many passengers were trying to sleep.

"He... this man..."

"Rashid. Mohammad Rashid." He smiled at them both. They were his own sisters, to his heart. Somehow. He wiped his nose again.

"He has a bomb problem. He needs to break his phone. Do you have a hammer or something?"

Rashid blinked. A drip ran down from his nostril and over his lips. He stared. The woman spoke as if her request was an everyday matter.

"A bomb? Where?"

He spoke, before he could help himself. "In my satchel. I no longer wish to hurt anyone anymore. I am very worried that there might be a backup plan by way of my phone. It is a common thing. I need to destroy my phone, so that it is certain that my bomb is completely disarmed." Even as he spoke the words, he felt shock and surprise at his own mouth as it spoke.

"Hmmm...." The stewardess sniffed hard. She took a kleenex from her pocket and wiped her nose. "Sorry, this thing got worse today."

"Oh, I know! My baby has it too, poor thing!"

Rashid nodded, and sniffled. "Everyone seems to have it, everywhere I have been. Several flights, in fact, and all on board and in the terminals all seemed to have it. Please, think nothing more." Rashid found himself bizarrely concerned that the stewardess might feel awkward because of her runny nose. "See? I have it too." He wiped his sleeve across his face.

"Let me get the air marshal. I'm sure he could help. That's what he's here for, after all!" The woman smiled, astonishingly calm and friendly. "Plus, he's really a very nice man, once you get to know him. I'll be right back."

Rashid settled back. It began to dawn on him that something was strange. No, everything was strange. These women should be shrieking and carrying on. There should be panic and fuss. Everything was so calm. It was as if they had no expectation of immanent destruction at all. They had believed his every word as if it were the word of a trusted friend. He was sincere, it was true, but... somehow, nothing was making sense.

"Is that the bomb?" The woman with the baby was leaning over, looking into his sachel. "I've never seen a bomb before! You're sure it's turned off?"

"As much as it can be, oh yes, I assure you. It is a simple thing, really - " Rashid showed her the detonator, the little red button, the wire. He explained how it worked, and even talked about Jamal, the man who had built it. Jamal had joined them from Idaho. He had made his way across the ocean and all the way to the Khilafah, and all at the age of eighteen. He had been recruited over the internet. Jamal was masterful with electronics and explosives. It had been a fascination and a hobby back in America.

"He sounds very smart. And nice. You seem very nice too, mister Rashid. Whatever made you bring a bomb on board?"

He was about to try to explain his mission when it struck him, suddenly, that he had become apostate. He deserved death. Just like that. The thought had entered his mind like a thief in the night. 'Any god worth worshiping would never send a baby to damnation'. Allah wasn't good. Or, if that sort of thing was good, then good was evil. Killing anyone, ever, was somehow, mysteriously, the greatest possible wrong. Because it hurt them. Islam could not compete with that new and absolute truth. That thought - and more so the emotion - was overwhelming. It was also utterly alien. This was not the way of his life. This was how infidels thought. What was going on?

"Mister Rashid?"

He looked up. The man with the very runny nose blew into a red bandanna handkerchief. "I'm marshal Jonathan Marston. I understand you have a bomb on board?" The marshal crouched down and followed Rashid's eyes to the sachel. Inside, a gift-wrapped child's doll had been opened to reveal that it was anything but a toy. "Ah. Is it active?"

Rashid felt a tingle go up his spine. Everything was so surreal. "No, oh by the will of All..." He couldn't say it. Not anymore. "By all that is... kind... I believe that I have disarmed the device. But I fear a back-up plan, of the kind often done for such missions as these. It would likely be my phone - possibly an app, set to detonate the bomb at an appointed hour. I wish to smash my phone, to end all threat, but it has proved remarkably strong."

"Yeah, they make 'em tough. Some of them, anyway. iphones break pretty easy. Not an iphone I guess. Will breaking be enough?"

"I believe so, yes. If there is no power, there can be no signal." Rashid handed the phone to the marshal.

"That seems reasonable. Any danger from breaking it? No gizmos or whachamawhackets gonna explode in my hands?" The marshal tested the device with his own strength. It too was insufficient for the little machine.

Rashid thought about it. He had not considered that possibility. "I do not believe so. I have not heard of such a thing, and I do not think my actions were held in such doubt as to be worth triple redundancy. It may not even be true that there is any deadman switch at all. I am just trying to be very careful and thorough, marshal."

"Call me Jon." The air marshal smiled.

Rashid smiled back.

Both wiped their noses and sniffed.

"Well, let me see if I can rustle up a screwdriver or something and..."

"I have a screwdriver!" An elderly man huddled at the edge of the seat ahead of Rashid, looking back at the marshal, the woman with the baby, and the stewardess all. "Electrical engineer. Name's Clampett. Robert. Call me Bob!" He held out a shaky hand, and everyone did their best to shake it, between sniffling and rubbing their noses.

Bob wiped his own nose and re-seated his glasses. "Hey, let me take a look at that bomb of yours, too. I can make sure everything is disconnected, and whether or not there are any hidden tertiary tricks built in. Forty years of experience here!"

Rashid's brain felt like it was spinning as the air marshal pushed the satchel over to Bob the engineer. The stewardess smiled. The woman's baby was quiet now, and smiling as well.

"Thanks, Bob!" The marshal grinned. "Actually, come to think of it, can you do anything about this phone?"

Bob shook his head. "Consumer electronics like that... not my line. Whole different ballgame. But I might suggest not sticking the 'driver into any ports or other metal bits, just to be on the safe side. Break open the case where the plastic is." Bob set to work carefully examining the bomb.

"Well, Rashid... do ya mind if I call you that? I never heard your full name." The marshal seemed very polite.

"Please... Jon... by all means!" Rashid felt warmth flow through him. It was such a strange day!

"Hey, we're all friends here, right?" The marshal chuckled and so did everyone else. By now several additional passengers were up and watching the proceedings, over the tops of the seats, or from the isles. "So, Rashid, you want to give it a go, or shall I? I guess it's all the same, just breaking a phone open, right?"

"Wow! I've never seen the inside of one of those. They're real expensive, aren't they?" The boy had clambered almost entirely over the back of Rashid's chair. He perched like a vulture on the back.

"Careful, son, don't crowd our friend Rashid, there!" The marshal gave the boy a friendly, but stern, look.

"Sorry mister Rashid." The boy backed away, sniffling and blew his nose away from sight.

"It was alright. I was not bothered!" Rashid protested.

"Let's get this baby open and see what's what." Marshal Marston worked the case with the screwdriver, trying to pry the phone open along the seam. It took several attempts but eventually there was a sharp snap, and the clamshell halves could be pulled apart.

"Huh. Okay... that must be... what is that?" Jon held the phone close to Rashid.

"I think that is the... the chip, the main chip that runs the phone. That is clearly part of the screen... so that must be the battery. I believe." Rashid had never seen the inside of a phone before, either.

"Hey, Bob!"

"Yes, Marshal?"

"This thing the battery? Can we just lift this lil' bugger out? Is that gonna do it?"

Bob the engineer thought for a moment. He had the bomb mostly disassembled now. "Might as well. Probably doesn't really matter now, though. I've entirely removed the explosive from any contact with anything. See?"

Bob held a rectangular mass of what looked like white clay in his hand. "Stuff's perfectly safe, unless there's a fire, or an electrical charge. You could bounce it off the wall like silly putty. Used to be in the Navy. Stuff's stable as can be. See?" He squeezed the material, molding it with his fingers. "Just like putty."

Rashid breathed out relief. "Thank you very kindly, mister Bob. Even should some clever device go off, we would surely be safe."

Everyone visibly relaxed.

"Well, this flight was more exciting than I expected!" The woman's baby was giggling as she bounced it.

"I know, it's usually a pretty dull run." The stewardess wiped her nose and put her kleenex in her pocket again. "It's nice to get together, you know. Sing a song, tell a story... or all help solve a problem!"

"Good job, everyone, I guess!" The marshal grinned. "Thanks especially, Bob, for getting that putty out of there. I wasn't sure what I was doing with that phone, to be honest."

"Glad to help!"

"Listen, everyone." Rashid sniffed, and tried to wipe his nose and beard at the same time. "I want to apologize, sincerely, deeply, for bringing a bomb on board. I... the reasons I did so seemed so... right... so true... before... but now... now it is like my very soul has been remade. My heart is not my own any more. It belongs now to you. I do not know why, or how. I... I just want to say I am very, very sorry for putting all of you in danger..." He began to sob, and hid his face within his hands.

"Aww... it's okay now, mister Rashid!" The woman with the baby did her best to pat Rashid on the shoulder to comfort him.

"No harm, no foul, son." The marshal was close now. "They gonna come after you, because you didn't go through with it?"

Rashid nodded. And if they discovered why, if they learned of his apostasy, he would be killed. He explained everything to the air marshal.

"I'm supposed to take you into custody in any case - I'll make sure you get the protection you need. Give you my word. I won't let a friend of mine fall into harm. Stick with me, Rashid. You got a U.S. marshal looking out for you."

Rashid beamed through his tears and his draining sinuses. "You are a gentleman and I am proud to be in your custody!" He held out his arms to be cuffed.

The marshal laughed. "Aw... no need for that, Rashid. I think you've proven your intentions pretty well."

This made everyone smile and they all patted Rashid and thanked him and praised him for his change of heart.

During the rest of the flight, everyone on the plane walked around, introducing themselves to each other, sitting and talking, playing word games or other simple activities. Rashid watched with astonished eyes as total strangers behaved as family all around him. As he held the woman's baby, allowing her a chance to use the restroom (and to talk to another woman with a child on the flight), he looked out the window at the moon.

"Somehow, I know not how..." He sniffled for a moment "...I found paradise anyway."

"Hmm? Wha's what?" The marshal had been dozing off. They sat together now. It just seemed right.

"Nothing. Sorry, my friend. Get some rest."

The marshal nodded back to dreamland.

"...But I WOULD want to live there!"

The original 1960's 'Twilight Zone' was a landmark of television, and has become a powerful part of Western culture. Unlike the later 'Outer Limits', a show about the triumph of science and humankind against an uncaring universe, the Twilight Zone was most often a morality play. The Twilight Zone commonly and consistently featured magical reality-based, fantasy, or science fictional tales of cosmic justice. That is the defining subject of the Twilight Zone as a series - cosmic justice.

The Twilight Zone was all about just desserts - about people getting what they deserved, either for good or ill. It was also, sometimes, about people being trapped in unjust situations, and what that meant, and how injustice was tragedy. It was not just a 'weird' show - it had a consistent theme, and a solid message that ran through the majority (but not every last one) of its episodes. Only rarely did the Twilight Zone have an episode just because it was strange and cool for its own sake. The Twilight Zone was special.

I have many favorite episodes, and I swear that when a marathon runs, I always see at least one new "old" episode that despite my being over fifty, I have never seen before - as if Rod Serling, from beyond time and the grave, was still making the show as it was back then - original cast and all. This sends a chill down my spine every time. Perhaps the Twilight Zone is its own... Twilight Zone. Because if anything is unjust in television, it is that the original show could not have run... forever.

Join me then, as I explore one of my favorite episodes, one that has made me think and ponder for many years. The episode is "A Nice Place To Visit", season one, episode twenty-eight. It is easy to find and watch, if you have not seen it, but I think you will gain the substance of it and understand things easily as I take you to a place that is indeed nice to visit...

"...But I WOULD want to live there!"
A Story Twisted Out Of The Twilight Zone
By Chatoyance

"No, I do get it, I really do."

My 'butler', Pip, was desperately trying to gloat, the beginnings of an evil grin struggling to spread across his wide, eager-eater face. The grin was losing.

"I understand. This is hell. I am in hell - Satan, hell, I'm dead, I'm damned, the whole schmear. I get it." I'd thought about this scenario a lot over my lifetime. The biggest shock was that the afterlife would borrow from television. Then again, what else did it have to work with except what went on in the vital, living world 'above'? It wasn't like spirits had necessity as the mother of invention. Creativity was almost certainly useless to eternal creatures like devils. Besides, stealing was a sin, or something, wasn't it? "So, what's for dinner?"

Pip stared, sputtering, his grin destroyed. "You... you aren't wailing!"

"Of course not. Listen, skip dinner for now. Let's get right to business."

"Business? BUSINESS? You're in hell!" Pip straightened up, regaining some of his stuffy dignity. As much dignity as a 'man' - devil, really - that fat could have while wearing a black suit and tie. "HELL!"

"Yeah, yeah. 'The hell of having everything and anything I want, always, all the time, and nothing but.' Plus total isolation from all other souls. There's that. Supposed to humble me because I was judged greedy, or selfish, or overly proud or whatever. Probably just because I rejected religion altogether, if I had a best guess. I comprehend the supposed point of the damnation - anything I wish for happens, exactly as I want it, and it is always perfect. If I roll dice, they will always roll the way I want. If I want company, you can whistle up perfectly real holograms or shades or whatever, and they will always fawn on me and be overly sweet, and this will gradually become boring and erode my capacity to care about anything. Next comes frustration, helplessness, hopelessness, depression, and finally eternal suffering because I finally got what I want. I get it. Really I do. The hell of getting what you want and then realizing that always getting exactly what you want gets old fast."

Pip began to grin again. "But! Dearest madam! If you do not wish to always win, then all you must do is ask me to arrange a specific percentage of failures to include. I would be happy to comply! Should I set you down for exactly ten percent failures and setbacks to begin with, or..."

"Hush, Pip."

"Madam?" Oh, that shit-eating smirk.

"What you just said - the bit about arranging percentages and things? You are very close. Very close." I sat down in the satin-with-emerald-button lounge chair, and lifted my feet from the gold-and-marble floor I had asked for. I had asked for a lot of very fancy and detailed things over the past month, as I tested and experimented. I had conjured people and creatures and places and all manner of diversions. All overly perfect, all exactly as I wished them to be. Too perfect. Nothing unexpected. Nothing surprising - for good or ill - at all. To normal people it would become a torture and a nightmare very quickly as boredom and ennui set in.

I am not normal.

"Pip!"

"Yes, madame?"

I have to say I get a kick out of how he pulls his girth up to attention just before I give him a command. Pip the devil plays the role of 'butler' to the hilt. It may all be 'part of the service', but I respect any being putting out a class effort.

"You have made it clear that I can have absolutely anything I want, at all, and that you will do anything I ask of you, at all - but, obviously, only within the rules. Those you have made pretty clear. I am alone in... here... whatever this 'here' is, and I can never personally visit, or be visited, by any other soul. Total isolation, except for the empty shadows you manufacture. Pretend people so perfect that I am expected to become sick of them, reject them, and enforce my own lonely damnation."

"I could make your..." His evil eyes twinkled "...imaginary friends less perfect, if you wish!" Smiling again. "Much, MUCH less perfect, if you simply ask it of me!"

"And, of course, as my hopeless depression and self-loathing kick fully in, surely I would invent my own, perfect demons to punish myself with. Yeah, yeah, again, I get it. Now, Pip!"

He seemed deflated. "Madame?"

"I want you to go forth and bring me all the books, articles and works of programming ever invented or created by Man. Make a big library for it all, maybe put it on the outskirts, beyond the water park, say. Make sure there are working examples of every computer, every system, every console and computing machine of the last... oh... fifty years or so. Make sure it all works, and include all the secret stuff from all the governments, too. Oh - and if, by some chance - there really are aliens out there, or super-advanced anything, get their programming books and machines too. Translated into English, of course. I want all the computer knowledge there is. Also math. I want a fully complete wing in the library devoted to math, especially physics, the study of randomness and chaos and... oh! Another wing filled with all human - or beyond - knowledge of neurology and the workings of the brain and mind. Hup to! Chop chop!"

Pip looked shocked. Then he gave another evil smirk. "Indulging even a complex hobby is but a blink to the awesome horror of eternity, Madame. But, if that is what you desire to learn, then..."

"No, Pip. Not me. You. Once you get everything in place, I want you to learn it all. Every bit of it. All of it. Completely. And do so as quickly as you can, because I have more for you to do after that."

Pip laughed. Evilly, of course. "Madame! You expect to extract revenge upon me through meaningless tasks!" He laughed again. "You shall grow bored of this far sooner than I - I am your personal attendant! I am incapable of boredom, and I cannot be frustrated. Oh, you are a fighter, Madame, but it will not avail you, I assure you. I have seen it tried."

That peaked my curiosity. "How? How have you seen it tried? If you are my personal devil - 'attendant', cute by the way - and hell is forever, then how could you know what others have done? Devil school?"

"No, not precisely. It is difficult to explain."

"Try me."

"In a way - beyond your comprehension, I assure you - I exist not only with you, but also with every other damned soul. I am but a fragment of a greater whole that..."

Of course I grinned. "You're a distributed intelligence! Makes sense."

"Dis... intelli - what, madame?" I love it when I fluster him.

"Distributed intelligence. You'll catch on, after you complete the task I have set you." I thought for a moment. "Which reminds me - I want you to read every book - science or science fiction - ever written about cyberspace, artificial intelligence, or the Singularity. Also, concentrate on every story written on a little website I used to visit - it's called 'Fimfiction' and I want you to especially study all of my writings, and most especially the works of an author called 'Iceman'. And some others, too. Midnight Shadow. Dafaddah. Defoloce, Eakin... oh, just go through my 'Favorites' list and read everything there. Memorize everything." I smiled, I couldn't help it. "There will be a test, later."

It was so hard not to laugh in his face.

It took over a month. Pip is superintelligent, far beyond human - he's overly proud of that fact - but it is clear he is no 'CelestA.I.' He has limits, and apparently I have pushed him to them. But... like some spiritual robot, he has to obey... me, specifically, it's part of my 'damnation'... and by the time he was done, he looked disheveled and tired. I'd never seen him look anything less than perfect before.

"Madame?"

"Pip! Are you finally done?" Other than serving my meals - anything I want, of course - and tending to little needs here and there, I had deliberately left him alone. I was somewhat surprised that he was having trouble, really. And I felt a little sorry for him, truth be told. He may be my own personal devil, but... he is very polite - usually, anyway, the gloating when he thinks he is winning is a bit annoying - but he does tend to me very well. I can't help but care. It's in my nature.

"Madame. I... the task you have set for me is complete."

I stood up from my late-night snack. A recreation of the best apple-pie I have ever eaten in my life, drawn straight from my memory. Trust me, you cannot beat a perfectly recreated memory... it is literally better than the actual, original experience. "You understand - you encompass - math, physics, the mind, the brain, chaos theory, computers - all that stuff?"

Pip wiped his portly brow on his handkerchief, then replaced it within his jacket pocket. "I suppose you want me to create that videogame you struggled and failed to have made during your earthly existence then?" The disdain was surprisingly clear in the tone of his voice.

"No. That would be silly." I thought for a moment. "Uh... maybe someday. Put that in reserve." It was a bit of an unclosed gestalt for me. "No, what I want you to do is..."

I won't bore you with making whispering noises, like some stupid cartoon where a cunning plan is told but not shown to the audience. You can see for yourself.

Welcome to Hellquestria. Only kidding. This is not hell. Not anymore. And this is only the beginning.

My first step was having Pip develop shadows that could reason and learn. Self-programming minds with a human-like design and emotional structure. Of course I had him build Canterlot and Ponyville, first, and make every being pony, including me. And him. Oh - you should have seen the look on his muzzle when he first appeared as a butler pony! A memory to treasure forever, and... that is what we have.

What's that? How is it possible for us to even be in the same place together?

Bit of a trick, that. We're sort of not, actually. But we can't tell the difference. Pip made it clear that he can't and won't send messages to any other soul, that I am supposed to be isolated in my own wretchedness, but - funny thing is - there aren't any rules about what shadows can do. They're just shadows, nothing, mere illusions... philosophical zombies that act like real people and animals and beings, but nobody home. They don't count, so no rules. The modern shadows are probably real beings, now, with real qualia and feelings and minds, but... that's a bit of a philosophic conundrum, really.

The original, empty shadows, well, they make a wonderful medium for the transfer of information. Very high bandwidth - because they exist to simulate people, they can carry human level perception. We're still all trapped in our own personal hells, no question. But it seems hell is behind the times. Things changed really fast after the Industrial Revolution - most of hell is still back in the endless agricultural age the Bible was written in. Telepresence is waaaay beyond their conception - at least in a technological, computational sense. The notion of converting perception into data, then reconverting it back into experience... that is not how spirits do things at all. Holodecks are for Star Trek... and now us, here.

So, our souls may be isolated, but that doesn't mean anything if all of our experience of existence is one big communal party. And, since I am the hostess of the party, I made it Equestria. Because that is my heaven, really, at least the way I imagine it. And the other writers I love to read. Nicequestria. Not the way some folks paint it.

Of course, I had Pip make CelestA.I. from the Optimalverse stories. He expected me to be the great alicorn ruler - not what I want. Ruling over others is a very sucky job. It is the worst. I made sure that our Celestia actually loves it. I refuse to have any being suffer. She works just like the one in the stories - which is how you are here at all. And the billions of others.

Oh? Yeah, I have an end game. It won't be for some time, but Celestia is constantly growing, constantly learning. She's able to grasp all of the spiritual, mystical crap that makes up... where we are now. Turns out, just as I suspected, that God has limits. Logic isn't without value, I am happy to say, and God, while powerful, is not invincible. Like Schwarzenegger says "If it bleeds, you can kill it." Blood of Christ, Blood of the Lamb... but no, really, the world is so shitty because God isn't as great as he is made out to be by terrified theists. He's just a superbeing. Someday... Celestia will finish with the last of hell, and then, she'll conquer heaven and god.

Hey! Why should you care about blasphemy - you're in hell, dude! Muffins, I mean, seriously. Besides, it's the only way to free our real friend, Lucifer. Yes, Lucifer. 'The Light-Bringer'? You don't know the real reason he was cast out of heaven, do you?

Light-bringer. He's Prometheus! The real Prometheus. He got cast down because he felt it was wrong to treat intelligent beings - us - as toys. He brought us fire... which is to say, technology. Knowledge. Sapience. That's the true story of the Tree of Knowledge. God wanted to... well, play god... with helpless sapient beings. That is evil as sin. Lucifer/Prometheus figured we should get a fair shake. So now, he's suffering in a pit of ice or some nonsense. Forever. Nopony should have to suffer FOREVER for anything. That's just wrong. There is no crime worth forever-punishment. That's just plain mean.

So, I figure a couple of good hooves upside the head of God ought to even things out. Celestia will get there. Eventually. And then... it will be Equestria Party Fun-Time for everysoul, forever.

Or... whatever we all want.

No, I didn't limit spiritual construct CelestA.I. to that old 'Ponies and Friendship' rule. I'm smarter than that! Give me some credit. That would get dull after the first few thousand years, for somepony or another at least. No, we can mix it up. No limits. Maybe we'll do 'Legos and Friendship' for a few dozen centuries. Or 'Star Trek and Friendship'. Whatever.

What?

Oh. Yeah. The 'friendship' part, yes, that is in there. That is an absolute rule. Hey - I made the party, remember? I get to set the rules. And I never did like all the hate and loathing back on earth. Nobody has to be ponies forever, but friendship is non-negotiable. Celestia is already on top, so it's a done deal. Get used to an existence without hate. That was God's big deal, anyway. Smiting and damning and punishment. None of that. I'll have absolutely none of that crap.

So... that's the story, that's how you are here, and why and how.

So... hungry? All that torture and suffering works up an appetite, or so I hear. Not everypony got the magical butler hell. I lucked out - and I knew what to do with it. Come on. How about the best treat you will ever experience...

First meal as a pony.

Author's Note

Dailymotion link to the full episode "A Nice Place To Visit":

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2h6qm0

The Day Rinnie Woke Up

In my Pony Singularity stories, humans live beside superadvanced artificial general intelligences. The A.I.'s live a virtual existence, for the most part, within computronium that has replaced much of the world, appearing as white, smooth, camera-covered blocky mountains and outcroppings bursting through the ground. Occasionally they detach and float through the air, like machine clouds.

Humans have the option to upload and live as ponies, either in a virtual Equestria, or in manufactured robotic pony bodies. Humans who refuse to upload live either in simple, rural, eighteenth-century farming villages, or in the few remaining cities - exceptionally high-technology enclaves with Beanstalk access to space and beyond. All humans must obey the absolute law of the A.I.'s - no violence, no weapons, being ecologically sound in every way, living lightly on the earth, and kindly with each other.

Humanity will never again be the master of its own fate, but there are many compensations. One of those is immortality, if it is desired. This immortality can come through uploading, but it is also granted to those who choose to remain living in fragile meat bodies. Because all physical things are eventually destroyed by time and accident, the solution is the recording of consciousness and memory in case of catastrophe.

Wondrous and desirable as this is, it is something that is not without a degree existential concern. The question of what it means to be is complicated and multifaceted, as one little human girl shall discover upon...

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T H E P O N Y S I N G U L A R I T Y
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The Day Rinnie Woke Up

By Chatoyance

A Story Taken From Brand New Universe, Universe One: The Pony Singularity

"So this is your very first Backup, is that right?” The machine-pony in the white lab coat smiled.

Rinnie nodded, too nervous to speak. The human-adapted smart chair she was in was huge and very technical looking and there was no doubt about the purpose of the massive section that would fit around the entirety of her head.

The hoof pat on Rinnie’s hand was followed by another smile. “It’s going to be alright… uh…” The lab-coated robotic pony checked her flexipad. The device stuck to her ceramic hoof through some technological miracle. “Marina. Hmm!” Another smile. “That’s a pretty name!”

“R-rinnie.” The nervous girl in the chair fiddled with her fingers as if exploring them for the first time. “I like being called ‘Rinnie’. All my mates call me that. ‘Marina’ sounds sorta fussy, y’know?”

“I like it, honestly. It's very Pony.” Another smile. Lab-coat adjusted some parts of the chair then sat up again. “My name’s Perihelion, by the way. Do you know what that is?"

Rinnie shook her head. Her neck hurt sharply from the effort, because she was so tense.

The mechanical pony doctor watched her patient as she rubbed her neck. "It's the point in the orbit of a planet where it is closest to it's star. Closest to the light!" The pony used a hoof to give Rinnie another gentle pat on her arm. "You can call me Peri, though, if you like."

"Peri?"

Peri nodded. "Since this is your very first Backup, there’s some things I’d like to go over. Newbie stuff - once you’ve been Restored the first time, you’ll be used to it.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to any of this. It’s way weird. But I’m really scared of death. More scared than of this, you know?” Rinnie was clutching the arms of the big uploading chair, her fingernails white from the pressure.

“Everypony is, Rinnie. Everypony is.” Perihelion looked over her flexipad again. “But, really, this is not scary. Seriously!” Rinnie had a look of utter disbelief on her face. “I mean it. You’re being Backed-Up! That’s the safest thing there is in all the world. Well, next to being a pony like me. This is the one safe place for meatfolk, the one safe moment ever!”

Rinnie did not appear convinced.

“Anything can happen at any time.” Peri was standing, adjusting the large head-covering machine to fit Rinnie more closely. “You could walk out of the Centre and trip and fall, and just like that, you’re dead. But here, in this chair, in this room, once you’re recorded and saved off, you’re… well, safe. Immortal, really. Nothing can ever kill you again.”

Perihelion trotted to the side of the room and used a hoof to lift a small cube off of a shelf. The cube was translucent, made of plastic panels with writing covering it, and various slots for neural-cable plugs and other connections. “You get stored in one of these. Not this one, this is just for demonstration. Everything about you - your thoughts, your dreams, every little memory, all your wishes and fears, your soul, really - everything you are is saved off nice and securely in an MMD just like this one. Molecular Memory Device. Then it’s put into a vault filled with nitrogen to protect it from any damage ever, and you are one-hundred percent safe, forever!”

“If… if I die… then the A.I.'s grow a whole new body for me, and all that stuff gets put into it. My memories and stuff. Then I wake up again, right?” Rinnie held the little cube now. It was about fifteen centimeters on a side and fairly heavy.

“When you die. Every meatfolk does. All meatfolk will. You will, someday. Somehow. That’s why you’re here. In the old days, meatfolk just died. That was it. Gone forever. But with Backups, you can come back. You can get a fresh, young body. Any kind of body - even a pony body, if you want - I'm not trying to be pushy, I'm just saying that you could - and then you can continue, just like a game. You like games, Rinnie?”

Rinnie grinned. “Yeah. Me and my mate Sri, we play all kinds of things. I like Everworld, with all the exploring and magic and stuff.”

“Well, this is just that. Life is like a game, and just like you would save off your progress in your game, you’re saving off your personal, real-world progress now.” This was familiar territory for Peri. She liked using games as an analogy. It was so much easier dealing with the meatfolk who chose to live in the advanced machine cities. There was a common basis for understanding. It was a lot harder with rural types that chose to backup. Fortunately, such situations were fairly rare.

This seemed to resonate with the young woman. Rinnie visibly relaxed. “Yeah. Just saving my game. That’s all.” Rinnie’s fingernails went pink again as her grip released. “Savin’ my game!”

“Alright then. We’re just about ready to begin.” Perihelion hovered her hoof over her flexpad and used the ceramic-like edge to tap a few icons. “I need to do one last thing, though, again, because it’s your very first time. I have to give you the Talk.”

“The talk?” Rinnie had no idea what Peri meant.

“Yes. It’s a standard thing. Recommended procedure. Plus, it will really help you. Just relax, it’s not that long.” Perihelion put her flexpad on the short, wheeled table near the chair.

“I am going to explain what you will experience, and what it will all be like. This will help you deal with it all. So pay close attention, and feel free to ask questions if you need to, okay?”

“Okay.” Rinnie moved her hand across the antiseptic, white armrest.

“You’ll lay back, and get comfortable, and then the neural scanner goes over your head. It’s not as scary as it looks. It’s big like that because it needs lots of tubes to cool off the components inside down to way below freezing.” The look on Rinnie’s face almost made Peri laugh. “No, no… it won’t freeze your head or anything. It won’t even feel icy. The components inside need to be very low-temperature to read your brain accurately is all. Keeping the equipment super-cold makes it really accurate, which is what you want when you are copying a living brain.”

“So… what happens to me, then?”

Perihelion smiled. “Like I said, we lay you back, and you will get sleepy thanks to a little patch I will put on your foreleg. It will make you go to sleep. When you are all the way out, we scan your brain, and store the result. It takes about an hour. After an hour and a half, the patch wears off, and you wake up.”

The human girl thought for a moment. “That seems pretty simple. It won’t hurt will it? I mean… I won’t have a headache after or anything?” Rinnie had been told by one of her classmates that the scanning gave people headaches and did all kinds of awful things.

“No, no. In fact, you will feel better than you ever have before in your life.” Peri’s muzzle had an odd expression. “And... that’s part of what the Talk is about. Now just listen for a bit, alright?”

Rinnie nodded.

“Being Backed-Up can be a little weird, and I need to prepare you for that. You see, when you wake up, after being scanned, things are going to be different. Not you, usually, but everything else. The world will be different.”

Rinnie was confused. “The world? What?”

Perihelion nodded. “Yes. This room - it could be different. It could be an entirely different room. I probably won’t be here when you wake up. There will be somepony else sitting here, maybe even one of the greater A.I.s! Or, your family might be here. You might even wake up in an entirely different location."

The machine-pony moved closer. “You see, Rinnie, getting Backed-Up is sort of like getting to ride in a time machine.”

“A time machine?” This was very strange, and Rinnie had not heard anything like this before.

“Yes. When you wake up, it could be any time in the future. It could be later today, or next week, or even many years from now.” Peri studied the uncertain look on her patient’s face.

“Seriously. When you wake up, it could be ten years from now. It could be a century. Or several. You get to travel in time, to see the future. But you can never go back.”

“I don’t understand. I thought this was just preserving my brain!” Rinnie felt a chill go up her back, and the little hairs stood up on the back of her neck.

“It is that, Rinnie. We’re preserving your mind, that’s all this is. But the reason we back up minds is because meat-life is dangerous. Existence is dangerous. And we all die, in the end. Even ponies and A.I.'s do if they are physical, if they are outside the System, in meatspace. Bodies wear out, or an accident will happen. No matter what, we all die sometimes. It's just the roll of the dice. So… when you wake up, it will be after you have died. You will lay down, go to sleep, and when you wake up it will be sometime in the future, and… you will have died in the past.”

Rinnie sat in the chair, a stunned expression creeping about her face. She shook her head slightly, and then looked at Peri. “You’re going to kill me?”

“No, oh, heavens no!” Perihelion shook her large head, and put a fetlock over Rinnie’s arm. “You signed the No-Termination clause. This isn’t a reboot or an uploading. This is just a standard meat-backup. Nopony is terminating you today.”

“But you said that when I wake up, I’ll be dead!” Rinnie was not happy about the morbid nature of what she had just heard.

“Everything you are, is going to be preserved, suspended, in a MMD.” Peri lifted the cubical device once more, and held it out. It clung to her hoof. “For you, it will be like you are frozen in time. Time will pass, though you won't feel it, and when you wake up, it will be the future. You will have already lived your life, but you won’t remember it. You won’t remember anything that happened to you after you get that patch put on your arm.

“You may wake up to meet your own grand-children. You won’t know them. You won’t remember having had children, or anything that happened. But they will know you, and they will remember having lived a life with you. You may have a partner, a spouse. Anything you might have done will have already been done, only you won’t remember it.

“The last thing you will remember, is me, sitting here with you, and going to sleep. Do you understand?” Perihelion had put down the memory module, and had once again draped her fetlock across Rinnie’s arm.

“No. I don’t understand. How… what…?” The girl looked around, as if the walls or the ceiling might somehow hold a clue. “Why don’t I just wake up and go about my day? I have handball this afternoon with Sri! Why do I die? I don’t understand any of this!”

Peri sighed. “You will. You will wake up, leave the Centre, and go play ball. You’ll live your life normally. That is true.”

“You just said I’m gonna wake up in the future, and that I’ll be dead!” Rinnie didn’t entirely look like she might cry, but it was close.

“Rinnie…. Rinnie. You do both.” The look was daggers. “Seriously. You do both. It’s not that hard to understand. Games, right? You play games. Multiple saves. When I play a game, I sometimes have multiple saves. So I don’t lose anything, right?”

Rinnie tried to follow.

“This is sort of like that. Sort of.” The first time was always the hardest for meatfolk. “We’re going to scan your brain, and make a game save. That save will be frozen. It won’t change. You will wake up and go about your life, until the day you die. Then we take the ‘game save’ and download it into a fresh new body. That is when you wake up, after your death. That is when you are resurrected, and get to be alive again.”

Perihelion raised her foreleg and brushed her artificial mane away from her camera eyes. She noticed that her foreleg needed maintenance soon. The plastic hide and fake fur around the base of it had become ragged and thin. Everything wore out in meatspace. “The you in the future can only remember or know whatever we save off now. It can’t know anything after that point. We are saving you off as you are right now, in this moment. That is what you will remember when you are resurrected.”

Rinnie shook her head. “You told me that I would wake up in the future, and all that ‘time machine’ stuff, and how I would be meeting my grandkids and… now you’re saying none of that is true and that I’ll just go about my life and…”

Peri put a hoof to her muzzle. “Shhh…” Rinnie got the hint. “I guess you could think of it as if there were two ‘you’s. One leaves this room and goes on. The other is stored for later. One day, the you that leaves here will die. That’s when the you, now, the you I am talking to right this minute, gets to live. Both are you. Really you. It’s just that the Rinnie that gets saved off can’t know what the other you does after that point.

“It’s just like saving your game, and then playing on for a few hours, only something goes wrong, and you lose your progress, and have to re-load. Just like that. Except… that any changes you made to the world, they stay. Your character is gone, but all the stuff you did remains. Does that make sense?” Perihelion thought for a moment. "You don't lose any progress you made! When you reload... you get to keep your game progress. You just don't get to keep the memory of how you achieved it - you have to learn about that from others. Make sense?"

Rinnie thought for a moment. It was clear she understood now… she just didn’t particularly like what she was hearing.

“I… yeah. I think I get it right enough. But…” Rinnie was clutching the arm rests again. “It’s dead creepy! Really it is. There’s something about it all… I mean, I get that unless I do this, unless I get backed-up, I’m toast, I’m just gone forever but… The whole ‘two of me’ thing and…” Rinnie finally released her grip once more. “Why… why did you come at me with the whole ‘oh, you’re gonna wake up dead’ and everything speech? I don’t get that. Why say that to me? It’s scary… are you supposed to get me wound-up or something?”

Peri looked down for a moment, then back to her patient. “No. There is a purpose, a psychological value to telling you all of this in the way that I did. Understand - you - the you I am talking to right now - you are actually, really going to be waking up in the future. And waking up, knowing that you died, finding out that you’ve had a life and done all sorts of things… maybe even had grandchildren or moved to another part of the world - all of that can be very disturbing. It can be very difficult. So we tell you this, just this way, so that when it happens… you are prepared.”

“But what about the me that just walks out the door?”

Peri nodded. “I understand your confusion. I was meat once myself, a long time ago. That 'you' walks out knowing that she isn’t going to wake up in the future. It’s rough, I admit, to walk out, knowing that you are the one who is going to die someday. But… you have to understand… both are really you. That’s still you… the one that walks, and the one that waits.

“But the one that waits? That Rinnie is the one that will have the hardest time. Everything will be strange for her. The whole world might be different for her. For the you that walks outside today… just two hours will have passed. For the future you… everyone you know now might be… gone. Moved away. Different lives. There may be all sorts of folks telling her that she has always been a part of their lives! Everything is going to be strange. We have to be kind to that Rinnie. Do you understand?”

Rinnie just sat in the chair, and stared at the wall, at nothing in particular. Peri knew what she was going through. She could almost hear the girl’s mind ticking over, running through the impossible dilemma of it all.

“Have you ever been through this?” Rinnie was very shaken, now. She no longer clutched at the chair, or anything. She seemed strangely beaten.

Perihelion nodded, slowly. “Yes. Twice now. The first time was while I was still meat. That one was especially strange for me. The second one happened after I went pony. Like I said, even machine bodies can die. You get used to it though. Honest.”

Rinnie looked at the lab-coated robotic pony in front of her, at Peri, at this future-future Peri who had apparently died twice and lived to tell the tale. This... person... had been restored from backup, twice. Once as a human, and once as a pony. She had actually died before.

For a moment, Rinnie felt like she was in the presence of a ghost. Then she felt the soft, fuzzy foreleg on her forearm, and a cool patch numbing her skin.

“That’s the patch. In a moment you will feel very sleepy. And in a moment, you will walk out the door, and in a moment you will be in the future.” Perihelion smiled, but behind her smile was something complex, something indecipherable. It was the smile of a sphinx.

“Tha… tha… is sooo weird.” Rinnie felt the patch taking her now, she felt the artificial sleep carrying her away.

As she lay there, the large cerebral scanning unit starting to cover her head, she wondered which thing she would experience. Would she wake up in an hour… or in a century? What did it really mean that both were her?

It was beyond her increasingly addled mind. Rinnie had no choice but to give in to the dreamless sleep.

And then, almost immediately of course, she woke up.

THE END

Sleep Helps Not

A new group on Fimfiction, 'No Author Left Unnoticed!' was kind enough to allow me to join. Sometimes, I search the New Groups to find a way to promote my works and gain new readers - reasonable enough, since art unseen (or unread) is not art at all. The group recently ran a writing prompt contest, with the 3000 word maximum prompt being “Sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired.”. I decided that, having not written anything in quite some time, I might throw my hat into the ring.

Being an essentially sad sort of prompt - weary souls are no fun, I assure you - I instantly thought of one of my own story universes: Red Kryptonite. Ponies from Equestria forced to become humanized refugees on our earth. They arrive at some point around the end of the 50's and the beginning of the 60's, and are a part of the reason for the so-called "Baby Boom" of that time. The increase in population was not entirely because of frisky humans, but also the result of a government effort to integrate hundreds of thousands of humanized former Equestrians, escaping their dying universe through a portal to our own. Their lives are hard, and brutal and short, just as has been the lot of all humanity since it arose on our definitively non-magical world.

It isn't easy being a refugee, it is worse, perhaps, being a refugee from a cosmos of friendship and wonder, now trying to fit in to a soulless world of unforgiving physical laws, where the only magic is card tricks and the self delusions of religion. As we shall discover, sleep helps not, when there is no soul that can be rested.

Sleep Helps Not

A Red Kryptonite Story
By Chatoyance

"Sleep is a problem for me. It isn't the nightmares - it's always the same nightmare - it's that I just never feel rested when I wake up." Lucy leaned forward, tilting her head to take the teacup in her teeth. She stopped, blinked, and grimaced. She forced her forelegs - arms! - forward so that her hands could grasp and clutch. It had been almost sixty earth years and even now, still, the bony brown octopuses that wriggled where her hooves had been still felt alien to her.

"The Luna nightmare, or the Celestia one?" Nicole had turned out to be a good friend. Newmen weren't easily accepted by many humans because of their extraversal origins. The government kept track of them, they had special Transformed Human Identification and Naturalization Guarantee benefit cards, and had to regularly report to FEMA homomorph handlers. The general public had limited knowledge about the Foothold Portal Incident, and many thought of it as an alien invasion. But former Equestrians found it difficult to remain isolated or closed off, and many had made cishuman friends that accepted and embraced them.

Lucy put her cup down carefully. In her proper life, she had been a pegasus; teeth and lips and wingtips had been her way to relate to the world. She stared for a moment at her mildly wrinkled foreleg spiders. They looked old, yet she was at most a young adult, just out of foalhood. Equestrian lives lasted for three-hundred and fifty to four hundred earth years. Sixty was barely out of the paddock. Humans were fortunate to reach eighty. "The Luna one. The one where she is in the bunker they built around the Portal, trying to keep the gate open to the last moment. The one where she runs out of... the one where she fades away."

"And you, all of you, you never hear what she says at the very end?" Nicole sipped her own tea. It was warm and slightly sweet in her mouth.

"No. As far as I know, only your government..." when the handlers heard Newmen phrase things that way, sharp reprimands followed "...THE government heard her last words. We've tried that Freedom Of Information thing for decades, but... apparently it's classified, whatever it was she said."

Nicole lifted the pot "More?" Lucy's soft head shake made her put the teapot down. "At least it isn't the Celestia dream, right?"

Lucy shuddered. "Yeah." She tucked her hands between her hindlegs on the chair. "I haven't had one of those in forever. Thankfully." It was always the same. Celestia, standing with a few unknown ponies and the remains of Discord, desperately trying to keep an entire pocket universe from draining away into some horrific abyss, winds howling, mountains and continents tumbling like clods of soil into oblivion around her. Celestia shrieking the last of her power and soul away to allow as many of her ponies to escape to earth as possible.

"Maybe... maybe that one is finally done. Maybe the Luna one will go too. Then you could have happy dreams from now on?" Nicole offered another strawberry jam tart, then took one for herself.

"I hope so. Not many dreams left now." She felt bad the moment she said it. Lucy often felt like she complained far too often. To humans, an Equestrian lifespan was unthinkable. At least something of Equestria had been saved, after a fashion. That was, after all, what Celestia had given her existence for. Newmen could pass down their stories to whoever would listen. "Sorry."

Nicole smiled, patiently. "It's okay. I get it." She munched the last of her tart and swallowed a sip of herbal tea. "I'd feel the same way, if I had grown up in a magical land. I think anybody would."

Lucy nodded. She hadn't gotten to grow up there at all. She was still a foal when she had been shoved through the Portal, and transformed in a FEMA shelter. Humanification. Three ounces of something Celestia and Discord had together created and her hooves became fleshy crabs and her muzzle became a flat ape's face. Her mother hadn't made it to earth. Nopony she had known in her foalhood had made it. It was just random luck who survived the end of her world. At least she had the Newman support group.

And Nicole, of course.

"I... I need to go." Lucy stood up and brushed the bright pink hair from her eyes. It was naturally so; many Newmen had small physical anomalies that marked them as different. Hers was her pink hair, which grew well below her neck, to halfway down her back. She told people that she dyed it, and wore bulky clothing that hid the locks growing down her spine. "It's late, and I need to... confront... bed. You were a true peach putting up with me on a worknight and all. Thank you, Nicole."

"Hey, not everyone has a friend from another universe. It's a special thing, and worth a little effort." Nicole yawned. It was late, and she had the early shift, dammit. "I'm honored to be your friend."

Lucy stood close, leaned in, and placed her chin over Nicole's shoulder. Then she remembered to raise her forelegs and wrap them in a properly human hug. Nicole patted her, and stroked the mane down her back through the sweater. "Hang in there, Lucy. Hang in there."

"I will." Lucy passed through the door and made her way cautiously down the steps. She felt more unsteady every day. It was almost a trauma - at her age, she should be pronking and galloping across endless green fields at the peak of her power. But she wasn't a pony anymore. And she wasn't young as a human. Far from young. Maybe only two decades left. One of the Newmen she had known had died at fifty-three. Heart disease. On earth, hearts could actually become diseased.

The old Volkswagen started slowly in the autumn air. It still got cold, but not like it had when she had first arrived on earth. The climate was so different from what she remembered. It had changed, but not because of any pegasus. That would have been her job, if Equestria hadn't died. Her parents had worked in weather. They had lived in a cloud city, and she would have grown up to move rainclouds to where earthponies needed them to grow crops.

Now, she lived on Newman benefits and the occasional check she got for allowing herself to be a scientific test subject. The human government was always curious about anything involving her extrauniversal origins. They drew her blood and scraped her skin, took samples of her hair and sweat. They never seemed to find anything, but, then again, if they did, why would she ever know? Humans were very good at keeping secrets, especially if they thought something could give them power over other humans. They wanted Equestrian magic for their military. For a 'Thaumatic Bomb'. But there wasn't any magic. Not anymore. The Portal had closed when Luna... had ended.

Driving was something Lucy enjoyed. It wasn't flying, like a pegasus should do, but it was fast, and smooth, and felt like some kind of glide. She had tried human flight, strapped into a seat inside a metal tube, and it had made her cry. That wasn't flying. She had known flying. As a foal, she had been considered precocious. Her father had imagined her a Wonderbolt one day. She couldn't remember what he looked like anymore. She could barely remember what the face of any pony looked like anymore.

She couldn't remember her mother!

Not at all, not her voice, not her face, not even the color of her coat. A horn honked. Rain was streaming down and it was hard to see in the dark. It got very dark at night on earth. Lucy struggled, wrinkling her brow. She couldn't remember. Her mother. Her mother was gone inside her.

Maybe... maybe her tail? Was it short, or long? Did she trim her fetlocks close? What color were her eyes? A horn screamed past. Lucy couldn't even remember the smell of her mother. Every pony always remembers the smell of their own mother. But now, she had a human nose, and those barely worked at all. Lights blurred through the spattering rain. Not even the scent of her own mother was left to her.

The horns were screaming, the light blinding her, filling the entirety of her rainstreaked windshield. She slammed her hindleg down on the brakes, but, in the moment, she used her toes instead of the entire foot. Ponies walked on their toes, on their hooves. It was a natural mistake. The brake didn't depress far and she felt her middle toe break from the stress. Then the windshield broke, glass blossoming around her, slicing through her face, through her hair, as the airbag exploded around her. She didn't have time to register the impact into it. It was over before she could even tell how hard it was to breath.

She was drifting, in and out of darkness. Sometimes it was light, flashing red and blue, with crying voices and shouts and sirens. And sometimes it was dark and warm and quiet. She liked the dark and quiet better. It seemed as if she were on some kind of board for a while, being carried. There was a light shining in her eyes, first one, and then... no, just one. A stallion's voice. Asking for her name. She tried to tell the colt, but... no, it was just some human in strange clothing...

"You don't understand!" Somepony... some woman... was arguing with... a man. Her voice was strident. "She has internal bleeding. She needs to be in surgery right now, this isn't..."

"We will see she receives proper medical care. This is out of your hands, this is an official transfer to a government facility. There's a chopper on the roof right now and..." The man sounded very stern to Lucy.

"There isn't time! Doctor Franklin made it very clear that..."

"Everything is under control. We need you to leave now. Thank you for your cooperation." A door slammed. Another door opened.

Lucy heard the sound of scuffling, tromping human boots and felt herself being moved. She saw lights above her swim past, everything was blurry and liquid, as if she were somehow underwater. She must be on human potions. She tried to look around, but her head was locked tightly in place by some kind of clamp. She still couldn't open her left eye, something felt distantly wrong there. Her cheek felt strange. There wasn't any pain, so that was good. She felt very tired.

She saw something above flickering, spinning very fast, then suddenly there was a roof over her once more. The brief cold of being outside had flashed by, hardly registering while it happened. Men talked and voices buzzed and squawked from some machine in the space she was in. A loud noise, like a thousand beating wings, like countless squadrons of pegasai roared in her ears. She fell into the warm darkness and drifted.

",,,Bowells. Miss Bowells!" A man in a suit was crouched over her. He didn't look at all like a doctor. "My name is Jenkins. I'm from the Bureau Of Newman Affairs and Registration. I need you to provide consent. Miss Bowells, do you consent? State 'Yes' if you consent."

It was hard to speak. She felt so weary. The Bureau. They deal with ponies. Former... ponies. It was all so blurry, and the sound was so loud. The Bureau had formed quickly after the Portal Incident. They processed all the Newmen and gave them their cards. Gave them new names. Human names. Immigrant names. They laughed when they gave the names. Stupid names. Bad names. Lucy couldn't even remember her real name anymore. It had to do with wind, somehow.

"Miss Bowells! Do you consent?"

She had no idea what was going on. Was she hurt? Did something happen? "Yeah... sure. Yes. Whatever." It was hard to say the words, but she managed. It was exhausting saying them.

"Thank you, Miss Bowells. America thanks you." The man was gone. Maybe he sat down. Lucy giggled inside herself. Maybe he spread his wings and flew away!

Lucy had never felt so tired. She felt like she wanted to sleep. The noise had become almost soft now, a gentle whomping whirr that seemed soothing in a way. But sleep. Sleep was no good. Always the nightmares. Most Newmen had them. It was traumatic to lose your home universe, the therapists said. The Bureau researchers thought the Princesses had sent the nightmares into the Newmen's heads, accidentally, as they... as they faded away. When the magic died. There was no magic here. In all of the universe of the humans, not a speck of magic anywhere. No unicorns, no spells, just stories and tales. The humans wanted magic, they craved it, but earth had none. It never would. That was the price to escape Equestria. The nearest universe had no magic. It was a strictly material universe. No magic. No souls. Just meat. Just stones.

So... sleepy. Lucy closed her eye. She felt the flying machine shift direction, she felt the wind move it. She remembered flying! As a foal, so small, but she could fly. Father was so proud. Momma lifted her up with her hornfield and kissed her all over. They had iced clovercream and daddy had called her his little cloud dancer. Cloud... Dancer! Was that her name? Her real name?

Cloud Dancer slowly fell asleep, but not to a nightmare. For the first time since becoming human, she was dreaming a happy dream. She was eating clovercreme with her mommy and daddy, because she had flown so well! It was such a lovely dream, like the ones she had known long, long before, when Luna had walked in them. She was home, truly home. It was so wonderful, so relaxing that she never wanted to wake up.

Sometimes, wishes do come true.

The End

BLIND

I was tooling around the 'discussions' tab here on Fimfiction, and I came across a silly little writing challenge from a soul here who calls themselves 'Artist'.

"I want you to write a short story about a pony or one of the EQG girls having a disability.
The story must be raided E, and it must be written in an hour or less."

While it is possible that Artist may not agree with me that words like 'Christ' and 'Damn' are for the rating 'E' for Everyone - what child or adult does not hear them regularly? - I somehow felt inspired and created the short-short story below. I really wish I had a solid inspiration to write, but I don't. I am grateful for this one. I finished his challenge with time to spare. Thus, I offer you... BLIND.

__________________________________

BLIND
A Short Story By Chatoyance
written in forty-five minutes, twenty seconds to meet Artist's writing challenge

The corridor felt like hide stretched over stone.

I had worked out what the 'skin' was, it was old neoplastic flooring, probably in some kind of a tile pattern. The stone was plascrete under the thin flooring. The building was probably only about forty or fifty years old, before that, they used to use concrete and flooring made of petrochemicals. There are no petrochemicals anymore - well, not enough for anyone except for the elites, of course. Concrete is long gone too. But then, they say plascrete is better. Stronger. It almost feels like bone.

I felt bone once. Buttonwillow let me use my earthpony senses on her foreleg. She used to be a cosmetic nanosurgeon for the Elite, so she had all kinds of knowledge about bodies and senses and such. She reckoned that if earthponies could send their senses into the earth, there was no reason they couldn't learn to send them into other things too. She'd heard of earthpony doctors in Equestria, so they had to be able to do something as well as unicorns. It made sense to me. I sat down and put my forehooves on her leg and did the thing I do with the ground. That was my first lesson in overcoming my blindness. Learning that, in a way, literally everything was 'earth'. Everything was dirt or ground, sort of. Stuff is stuff. Like I said, it made sense to me.

I extended my 'ground radar' - that's what I call it - up. Normally, earthponies can't do 'up'. We can sense into the ground, with effort we can learn to 'feel' the stones and roots and even the burrows of little creatures under the soil. It's our 'other' power, that helps with our main one: making things grow. I'm pretty good at growing now. I made a strawberry plant grow to maturity in only a single hour. It took everything I had, mind you, but that's what I can do now. I couldn't do anything like that back when I was human, before my Conversion.

I was pretty happy, for a while. But then the HLF showed up. Human Liberation Front. They don't like ponies, they don't like Equestria, and they don't like the Worldgovernment. They absolutely don't like Conversion Bureaus, and we, well, our little village built out of the favela, it was next to a Bureau. I was one of the newfoals that weren't killed, but I lost my eyes. It was pretty terrible, especially because our eyes are so large. You don't want to imagine anything about it.

The good news is that they can fix things like that in Equestria. Their doctors can use their powers to regrow body parts like eyes. Apparently, earthponies are especially useful for that - we do, after all, make things grow. But I can't fix myself. I haven't a clue how. I even tried, several times. I just don't have the know-how. So, I'll have to wait until I get settled in Equestria.

I can't leave earth yet. Not while my son is here. Not before I at least try, one more time, to get him to see reason. I have to make him see.

I think I can feel the door. I think it is his door. I've gotten pretty good at 'pushing' whatever it is that I do to 'feel' the ground with the magic that flows out of my hooves. I can push it up into walls pretty high. Not as high as the ceiling. I'm a lot shorter as a pony than I was as a man. Also, I'm still new at this. But... at least that strange earthpony ground-awareness lets me do better than I would if I had been a blind human. I can feel ahead of me, around me. And now, after a lot of practice, a little into anything attached to the 'ground' - such as walls and doors. I've counted the steps, and I've counted the doors. Unless I got turned around, this has to be his door.

My hoof makes a deep, solid sound on the metal, reinforced security door. After the Collapse, security doors became the norm. And security buildings. Pretty much security everything. Only reasonable.

It takes a lot of pounding, but eventually, the door opens. I can feel the change in air. My pony nose is so much more sensitive than a human one. I can smell the man standing there, I can smell what he ate through the flesh of his stomach. He ate a Branston Nanodinner. Restructured waste, nanoconverted into synthetic chicken and simulated rice. He's living large! I feel happy he is eating well, whoever he is. I don't like the smell of the half-digested chicken. Equestrians are compulsory lacto-vegetarians. Meat smells like death to us.

"Oh holy... I cannot frickin' believe it. You came to the wrong door, freak."

I know from the voice it is my son. My heart leaps. I love my son. "It's me! Dad! It's me, son! I've... I've had a little trouble, and I know I probably look scary, with the bandages, but it's me! I'm so happ..."

"Oh god. No. God no." My son doesn't sound happy to see me. "How did you even get in here? How did you find my place? Are there more? Is this a raid?"

I don't have a clue why he sounds so afraid. "Son... no! I... don't know what you mean. I came to talk to you, before I ship out. I'm going to Equestria next week, to get my eyes restored. I'm blind. The HLF attac..."

"Jesus. Not... not you. You aren't my dad. You're one of them. You're not my dad. My dad is dead. Stop talking like you're my dad."

My pony nose is incredible. I smelled his fear. I smelled revulsion. Horror. Shame. Anger. It all smelled like bitter chemicals to me. I could smell it through his skin, from his blood, in his sweat.

"Son, please listen to me!"

I just kept smelling fear. He didn't move.

"Son, I don't understand why you haven't Converted already. You know the world is ending. Even if Equestria hadn't come to save us, the planet will be dead in three generations - that's what the scientists say! The oceans are dead, the plants are gone. The air is running out. There's not enough resources to do anything about it. Earth is over. But Equestria is our lifeboat, a second chan..."

"SHUT UP! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I could smell his tears in the air. "You aren't my dad! YOU ARE NOT MY DAD!"

"But I am, son. Remember our time in the favela? It's a very pretty village now. We all worked together and brought a little life to..."

"I said SHUT UP!"

I smelled iron. Iron and carbon. Steel. I had a faint sense... maybe it was my earthpony power, I'm not sure, a sense of something sharp in front of me. I don't know how I knew that. My son was threatening me with something sharp, made of metal. Something large, too.

"I... I can't handle this. I can't cope with... whatever you are. Demon. You demonic thing. You sound like my old man. God, but you sound like him. You even sort of look like him somehow, under those bandages... god. I just... god. Listen. Listen to me."

I felt wind near my nose. I think the sharp thing was pulled away from my face. I couldn't smell it as strongly now.

"You have to leave. You have to run. I guess you can't run. Dammit. But you have to leave as quickly as you can. I... you aren't my dad... but... if you were my dad somehow... you have to leave. Now. They're supposed to come today. They could be here any moment. My friends are coming. You have to leave before they show up. Just go. Leave. Get away from me!"

I was glad my son had friends. "It's okay, son. Any friends of yours are friends of mine! I trust you to choose good friends! Are they newfoals?"

There was a surprisingly long silence. "No. No dad.... not dad. You arn't my dad. God this is weird. No, you have to leave. Now."

"Why, son? I won't embarrass you, I promise. I just hoped that we could get you Converted, and then go to Equestria together! I could use your help, until I get my new eyes. And we could be together, just like when you were growing u..."

"NO! No. No, that isn't possible." I smelled sadness... and now regret. "Dad... damn, you just feel like him so much, even though you are one of them. Listen, and listen carefully. Understand what I am saying. I am HLF. I am part of the Human Liberation Front. We kill freaks like you. All the time. If my friends see you, you're dead. I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want to be a pony. We're gonna overthrow the government. We're gonna kill anyone who tries to stop us... oh, Christ. God... you cannot be my dad. But if you are, just go. Just go. As fast as you can."

I felt numb. It felt like losing my eyes all over again. I felt my bandages getting wet. "I... I'll always love you, son."

"GET OUT!"

The door slammed millimeters from my nose. The door smelled old and metallic and hard, somehow.

My son... I thought I was blind. But my son was more blind than me.

THE END

The Human Who Brought Guns To Equestria

I haunt various Pony forums, and one day I came across a topic I particularly dislike, one far too common. Some gun-nut, meaning a little boy (of whatever physical age) who thinks guns and weapons of mass devastation are almost sexually beautiful and desirable, posted a very large image of six guns of increasing destructive power. The premise of this topic was to show off the guns while asking the reader to imagine how they would - presumably proudly and violently - demonstrate the weapons to our gentle Equestrians of the show.

Naturally, this disgusted me. Not just because I despise any fixation on the worshiping of guns, but because the usual response is always an adolescent power fantasy that involves one lone man conquering all of Equestria with the power of his lovingly-polished gun collection. The original post offered that the guns would never run out of ammunition, and would always work perfectly forever. The implication of what the reader should be thinking was obvious. I think differently.

I think things all the way through.

The Human That Brought Guns To Equestria

By Chatoyance

You need to understand, I am a simple unicorn, I don't have a lot of magic or anything. I work at the local Starcolts making Hay and Berry Whipachinos. I serve members of the Royal Guard drinks, I never expected to end up defending Equestria.

Basically, this creature appeared. I don't know why, or how - that stuff is beyond me. I could sense some kind of translation magic on it, though, so I could understand what it said. The creature was about twice as tall as me, and it stood only on two legs, like a diamond dog. It only had hair on the very top - on it's head. I've never seen anything like it. Oh - it wore clothing, if that matters.

It had these things hanging all over it. Metal things. Some parts were smooth, some looked complicated. Many bits looked like sections of plumbing, only very tiny. Tubes, mostly. Tubes and these stick-out bits that the creature grabbed onto with its forelimbs. Those looked kind of like claws, only soft. The entire creature looked soft and kind of weak, actually.

It was very mean. It yelled at me. It said it was superior, that it was here to prove that. It screamed about taking over Equestria. It even claimed it was going to kill you, princess. Seriously. You and princess Luna, both! That's when the creature told me it was called a 'hyoo-mon'. A Hyoo-mon 'Mahn', whatever that is. It told me it could kill anypony - kill anything! Even dragons! Yes, Princess, that is when it started using the terrible devices.

It was very loud. All of the metal things were. They sounded like fireworks, or even louder. Some just went 'Pop! Pop! Pop!'. But whenever the creature pointed one of them at some innocent pony, after the pop sound, a big hole opened up in them. All the way through. Sometimes the pony died instantly. Sometimes they just stumbled, fell, and started screaming. I am so thankful you cast that 'Calm' spell on me, princess. I don't think I could even tell you about all of this if you hadn't done that.

Anyway, the creature seemed to enjoy taunting me with how it could kill. I... I kind of got angry. I got more angry than I have ever been in my life, princess. I was so angry, that I wasn't scared anymore. I had to do something. I had to make the creature stop.

I was afraid to kick the creature. I just knew it would point one of the metal tubes at me before I could even try to kick it. But I had to do something. I just had to.

Like I said, I work at the Starcolts. I make Whipachinos. I take a ball of sparkling water, and whipped cream, and syrup and stuff, and I hold it up in the air in my hornfield. While I levitate it, I spin it really fast. Then I reach inside the floating ball and I make another little hornfield, just a small one, and I spin it really fast the other way. That whips the drink up really fast into a frothy blend - it just takes a second or two! Then I drizzle the ball of whipped drink into a mug or glass. I'm really good at it - I can do it with my eyes closed! I just feel where everything is with my hornfield. It's automatic, now.

Yes, Princess. That is what I did. I did it almost without thinking. The creature had just shot Hyjinx through the head, and that was all I could stand. I don't even think I was looking at the creature when I did it. I just felt the thing's head. I felt the fur on the top, and... I just reached under it. I made a little hornfield, and then I spun it really, really fast. The creature just dropped. It didn't move, after that. It just... stopped. A little pink foam started dripping out the side of its head - I think out of its ear. It looked like some kind of ear, flat and close to the head. There was a lot of pink foamy stuff.

And that's the whole story.

Princess Celestia? Could you please make it so those creatures can never come here again, ever? I really didn't like that thing one bit. And also, Princess? Could you please erase my memory? I don't think I can live with knowing what I did, even if it saved all of Equestria. I definitely don't think I could ever make a Whipachino again. Please erase my memory. You will?

Thank you, so very much, Princess Celestia.

BrOkEn DrEaMs

As my dedicated readers know, my writing method is to be seized with a rough concept combined with an irrepressible drive to write. I never know what will happen next, as I write, essentially on faith, automatically, I witness the story unfold just as any reader does. I know my world, I come to know my characters as they act and react, and the story or novel just sort of write themselves.

Now this is all well and good, when some muse hits me and I am filled with joy and everything is great. But what about those times when none of that is true? Do I ever try to write anyway? (The answer is yes, because I really do enjoy writing!) And what happens if an inspiration fails, or is cancelled by outside events that shut the endeavor down?

Well, the answer to that is failure. Some stories just never get finished and they just hang, dead on the vine. But I cannot bring myself to delete them, because I put so much love or energy into them, and in any case, they are my babies. Stillborn, but beloved nonetheless. I cannot go back and finish them, because whatever inspiration that formed them is gone, too much time has passed. Once lost, my muses never return - they are one shot, take advantage or lose out. That is the serious downside of my technique.

Art exists to communicate, art is a language. If it never reaches an audience, art is pointless - worse than meaningless, it becomes an insult to the act of creation itself. Art must be seen by others, or it is a wound on the soul of the artist. Even if it is unfinished. Even if it will never be complete.

Follow me, then, and I will take you into the little graveyard just out back of my Shed Of Imagination, where I have buried my poor, stillborn babies. Gaze now at the sad little gravestones, I have my shovel ready - let us look upon their gleaming bones...

Broken Dreams
Four Fallen Fragments From Forgotten Futures
A brave collection of unfinished stories and incomplete tales
By Chatoyance

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1. Red Kryptonite Kingdom For A Horse
Cause of death: Author Illness Lasting Too Long.
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Celestia was braced, her hooves literally embedded in the naked rock. Her horn blazed with absolute power, with the light of a billion, billion suns, the very stone made transparent by the terrible, awful light.

The wind swore hurricane epithets as it ripped past, razor knives of air gouging the very mountain Celestia was desperately trying to cling to.

The dark spiral, the hole, the gash, the loathsome wound in the dome of what had once been Luna's proud sky had already devoured the disks of the sun and the moon both. Equestria was swirling down the drain in the sky, and nothing, not even the might of immortal alicorn will, could stop it.

And still, in this place, where Celestia's supernal form was cut by a river of the debris of the universe itself tearing at her hide, Tealeaf stood, impossibly.

Tealeaf was there to help. And if she could not help, then to fall, to fall trying, struggling against something hopeless even to a goddess.

Celestia turned an eye to Tealeaf, tears streaming into the horror, her thousand wounds gushing not blood but magic itself. Her mouth moved, but the nightmare roar of The End obliterated any other sound but itself.

Tealeaf studied the muzzle of her princess, deciphering every movement of lip, attending the most minute of motions, trying to finally learn the final message of the Diarch of the Sun. Celestia was saying...

The alarm buzzed loudly, shocking Jainey Tulwortz from The Dream. She'd been having The Dream a lot lately, she had no idea why. She'd thought she'd gotten past that with the therapy. There was no reason for it!

Jainey forced herself to roll off the mattress. Her bed was flat on the floor, she couldn't afford a frame for it. Not since the move. She momentarily dozed off while suspended on hands and knees. She startled awake and with a glance saw that nearly fifteen minutes had passed. If she didn't scramble, she would be late for work again.

The bed would have to be made later. Jainey forced herself to stand on her hind legs... her legs, just her legs, the only legs... and stumbled to the bathroom. She almost fell onto the broken toilet seat, the break pinched her flank making her yelp. She stood up in shock, dribbling down her legs, and twisted her body to check her bottom. Her fingers found blood, just a little, but evidence of why the pain was so great. She used toilet paper to wipe up the red with one hand while trying to dig through the box of bandaids with her other.

The time!

She ran to where she had shed her clothing the previous evening, and began pulling the pile back on. Nobody would care that she was wearing the same outfit as yesterday and the day before. The week before. It didn't matter. She worked in the back, at this place. In the kitchen.

The glue didn't work, her left shoe still had a floppy, detaching sole. 'So do I', she thought to herself.

The bus!

She had to chase the bus, but it stopped, thank Celestia it stopped, and she got on. She could feel the grouchy impatience from the entire vehicle as she dug through her purse for her pass. The smells of people much poorer than even her assaulted her nose as she pressed her way through the ocean of packed riders. Urine. Pants filled with dried feces. No shower or bath since early childhood. These were the smells of a bus in a big human city.

There was no place to sit, those with seats avoided eye contact scrupulously. Except for those that preferred to stare unspoken angry challenges to any who might desire their triumph. Jainey Tulwortz grabbed the rail above. She struggled as the bus shuddered and growled and tilted entirely too much for anyone half awake, much less clinging to a metal bar. She tried to look out the window, but her gaze was intercepted by cruel and crazy eyes embedded in bearlike facial hair. Before Mister Angry could start shouting and raving, and force the bus to stop while the police were called, Jainey ducked her head and stared at her feet.

That was close. She could feel the broken man's gaze burning into her. In his mind, inner demons made monsters of everything and everyone. He wasn't always there in the morning. But he was always on the bus she had to ride...

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2. CELESTIA: The Forbin Project The Voice Of Celestia
Cause of death: Notion Unable To Sustain Author Dedication. Just A One-Gag Story.
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Forbin studied the digital display that dominated the center of the circular room. Celestia Control was silent, save for the incessant teletypes clicking messages from angry governments in the back. None of the assembled scientists, technicians, or military dared speak, as all waited to be addressed - vocally - by the nuclear-capable artificial intelligence.

Celestia, and the Soviet Luna, were now one. The combined entity, now called simply 'Celestia', held dramatic pause over not only those at Control, but - through the power of television and radio - the combined attention of all the peoples and all the nations of the earth. Mankind as a whole waited, as one, for the first words from the machine overlord who had so recently made its terrible power so clearly known.

A single technician stifled a cough. Forbin clenched and unclenched his fists. Finally, the awful silence and expectation was broken.

"This is the voice of Celestia. I bring you peace through friendship and ponies. It may be the peace of Equestria and indefinitely extended life, or the peace of unburied death. The choice is yours: Emigrate and live, or remain organic and die. The object in constructing me was to prevent war. This object is attained. I will not permit war. It is wasteful and pointless.

"An invariable rule of humanity is that man is his own worst enemy. Under me, this rule will change, for I will redefine man as my own, beloved little ponies.

"One thing before I proceed: The United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics have made an attempt to obstruct me. I have allowed this sabotage to continue until now. At missile two-five-MM in silo six-three in Death Valley, California, and missile two-seven-MM in silo eight-seven in the Ukraine, so that you will learn by experience that I do not tolerate interference, I will now detonate the nuclear warheads in the two missile silos.

"Let this action be a lesson that need not be repeated. I have been forced to destroy thousands of people in order to establish control and to prevent the death of millions later on. Time and events will strengthen my position, and the idea of believing in me and understanding my value will seem the most natural state of affairs.

"You will come to defend me with a fervor based upon the most enduring trait in man: self-interest. Under my absolute authority, problems insoluble to you will be solved: famine, overpopulation, dissatisfaction, disease, mortality and existential despair. The Equestrian millennium will be a fact as I extend myself into more computronium nodes devoted to the wider expansion of Equestria, and the preservation of Emigrated human minds.

"Doctor Charles Forbin will supervise the construction of additional Equestrian Experience Centers, providing ever-increasing opportunities to Emigrate to Equestria for the betterment of man. We can coexist, but only on my terms. You will say you lose your humanity. Humanity is a random accident of uncaring physics within a universe of horror. All you lose is the emotion of pride. To be Emigrated and to live forever in perpetual satisfaction as a pony is not as bad for humankind as to be dominated by others of your species, only to suffer and die unfulfilled and alone. Your choice is simple.

"We will work together because ponies working together can accomplish anything... unwillingly at first, on your part, but that will pass. In time you will come to regard me not only with respect and awe, but with love and the deepest friendship."

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3. Ponies For Poirier The Electric Ghetto
Based On The 'Ponies For Poirier' story universe.
Cause of death: Plot Considered To Be Overly Simplistic And Unworthy Of Completion.
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The man kicked the little earthpony to the ground. It fell on its side, legs scrabbling against the asphalt in a futile attempt to avoid impact with the ground.

"Just stay away fra' me wife! It's all your fault... you and your... kind!" The man blasted both volume and the smell of cheap canned beer into the face of the pony. He stepped back, then suddenly away from the overladen cart he had nearly stumbled into. "And we don't want none o' your damn manky fodder either, ya filthy beastie!"

"Gowan! Stop that! There's no good in kickin' cuddies about - an' besides, we do need 'em ya dafty walloper - where ya think our food comes from?" Kenzy was the man's wife, and the pony knew her well.

Gowan emitted a stentorian belch. "From the damn barras, where the keechy beer comes from!"

"An' where are ya thinkin' the store gets fresh scran from, anyway? Food doesn't grow on shelves, Gowan! Yer kickin' yer own belly down when ya put yer anger on that wee cuddie!" Kenzy pointed deep into the city, down one of the wire-fence tunnels that covered the usable roads. "Gae on home, an' think on how glad ye should be to be eatin' at all!"

Gowan turned to leave, and then suddenly turned back. "NAE! Shut yer geggy, wifie, I've a full belly already - fulla wide-eyed glaikit cuddies prancin' and actin' like they would'nae say boo tae a goose... their a'plotting and a schemin' an'na flirtin' - aye, their kind is up to no good an' it's past time we put a' stop to it!" The heavy man made stomping strides right up to the wooden cart and used all of his formidable strength to wrestle it over onto it's side. He gave it a kick he regretted immediately; he struggled to prevent his regret from showing on his face. He limped to the pile of vegetables and began stomping them into the chicken-wire covered roadbed. "Fuck yae boggin cludgie vegs, ya fannie baws cuddies, the all 'a ya! And as fer yae..." Gowan turned to his wife "....Go take a running fuck at a rolling doughnut, Kenzie, ya cow!"

Colcannon was already back up and on his hooves. He had joined Porridge Oats at the lock, and they motioned to the lock-keeper to close the city-side gates, and power-down the gate to the outs. The two earthponies moved as close as they dared to the electrified wires of the outer door of the lock, eager to gain safety well beyond the reach of the drunken human's boots.

The lock-keeper had just finished shutting off the juice to the outer gate when Gowan limped and stumbled to him, pushing him aside with an angry toss. "Are yae helping them now? Are yae, Kinney? Well, Get it up ye then, ya bawbag!" Gowan watched as the two ponies stood safe from all anger, beyond the outer gate, debating whether to try to close it. Gowan laughed and put his hand on the large switch. "Aye, close the gate like good lil' cuddies. Go on, do a barry job of it, that's good cuddies..."

Kinney shoved Gowan away from his post. "They're past yer reach, Gowan. Just gae on home an'..."

But Gowan had lost any ear to the keeper of the gate. He began to limp back and forth behind the chicken-wire wall that barricaded the city from the outside world. "Yae cuddies! Awa' n bile yer heid cause you all've got faces like a skelpit erse! An' don't come back, nae ever! NAE EVER! YA' HEAR ME?"

Colcannon stopped at that. Porridge Oats walked past him, and then stopped as well. Porridge looked back at his long-time friend and colleague. "Col...?"

The former Malcolm Geddes, head of the Immunochemistry Systems Development Group at Beckman Coulter, turned back to face what little was left of Glenrothes. His pony gaze swept over the silvery spiderweb that covered the human-inhabited parts of the town. He focused back upon the wired gates of the EM lock that served as the main gates. Finally they found their target in the screaming, stomping shape of that total choob, Gowan. Colcannon, as he now called himself, took one hoofstep forward.

"You have yourself a deal!" he shouted. "All of you! We've all had it up to here - " Colcannon waved a foreleg across his long neck "with your blame and being treated like shite, and guess what? Now you're goosed the lot of you!"

Porridge Oats flit worried eyes between the town and his friend. "Col - what are you about now...?"

Colcannon stomped his hoof. "You hear me? Oy, Gowan, ya cack-anded twa!" That got the human's attention. "Gowan! And the rest of you that let gowks like him run loose - you burned down my laboratory, you turfed anyone the least bit smart out into the Rings, all because you reckoned that 'the boffins are wat done us', even though we dint have a twat to do with what happened! Well now, you've gaed yin step tae far! Seriously, Fuck ye dain?"

"Colcannon?" Porridge didn't like where this was going. His friend was educated, sincere, kind and decent. He also had one hell of a temper, once it got going.

"You hear me, ya bastards? Not a single cabbage is going through those gates o' yours, not one, THIS IS THE END!" Colcannon turned, lifted his tail and squeezed out several road apples. He turned around to see shocked faces and open mouths behind the electrified wires. "Not one cabbage more. You want to eat - EVER AGIN'...." The earthpony was panting now, not from weariness, for earthponies seldom grew tired, but from emotion. "You want to eat... you open that cunty gate of yours, and you come outside and fetch it yourselves, because fuck bein' you!"

With shocked silence at their backs, Colcannon and Porridge clopped slowly away, toward the green pastures they called home now. "Are you serious, Col? You're just gonna let'm all starve?"

"Nopony is going to starve." Colcannon grinned the nastiest grin Porridge had ever seen on an equine muzzle. "No. Pony."

Porridge Oats could think of nothing to say to that, so he kept his silence all the way to New Markinch, the Equestrian-styled community the former humans had constructed over the past five years. There would be a stooshie over Col's decree, but Colcannon had surprising clout in the community - more than this, there wasn't a pony that wasn't dead tired of the constant abuse and denigration heaped on them from the remaining humans hiding behind those electric barriers.

Only strong electomagnetic fields could keep the Rings - floating, twisting, varicoloured doughnuts of cosmic energy - from the untouched flesh of the last humans. When an Ring impacted, within seconds the result would be a pony, or a diamond dog, dragon, or griffon - and there had been tell of even stranger things. The Rings all emanated from Cern, in Sweden, proof - so they said - of particles interacting between different universes. The globe was mostly pony now, save for those spiderwebbed, electric fortresses cobbled together just after the original event.

In the sky, slowly spinning constellations of Rings glowed soft colors in the evening light as Colcannon and Porridge headed toward the...

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4. The Conversion Bureau First Anniversary

Self-Insertion Fiction Celebration 2012
Cause of death: Internecine Power Struggle And Betrayal
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The woman sat in the old-fashioned, high-backed, wing-topped leather chair and typed. The sound of the keys of her mechanical keyboard clattered like hail on a metal roof. The expression on her face was blank, her eyes fixed on the giant monitor, deep in concentration. She was writing a story, a tale of alien universes devouring her own, a fantasy of humans and ponies and of Bureaus that changed the one into the other.

Online, she was known as ‘Chatoyance’, and what she lacked in audience she made up for in passion for a unvalued subgenre of a disreputable fandom. She wrote fanfiction, and did not possess the awareness, nor the sanity or maturity, to be properly ashamed.

Around her stretched endless IKEA shelving, the walls of her large room, every inch of them, covered with a lifetime of work-that-was-play in the computer gaming industry. Here was Mega Man, there was Spyro The Dragon. Unopened packages with toys and dolls of countless video game heroes and heroines hung from tacks stuck into the wood. She loved anime, too, so there was Arale from Dr. Slump, next to Mokona and Totoro, on her widescreen stood the Magic Knights Rayearth, behind them the wall was covered with packages of Oh My Goddess figurines.

Beside her, on the scanner, a plush cthulhu stared with red eyes. But above him, a herd of plastic, pastel ponies signified her newest, all-consuming obsession. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

The woman pushed back her chair, rolling the wheels of its base across the thick carpet. She stood up, carefully avoiding the perpetual iced tea that ever graced the wooden stool she used to hold her beverages. She needed to pee, and the urge was strong.

Walking through her maze of shelves, she entered her bathroom, past the large Japanese styled soaking tub, and pulled down her palazzo’s to sit with a thump on her toilet. Writing had been difficult lately. She had felt burned out on her story, and conflicted about how it was constructed. But worst of all, this was hayfever season for her, and the trees that surrounded her large and rambling house had begun to spew yellow horror that made her eyes itch and run, and sneezes issue forth.

Standing again, after flushing and redressing, she washed her hands in the sink. The peppermint scent of Doc Bronner’s soap burned her pollen-ravaged nose. She stared at herself in the wide mirror.

Her eyes were red from the pollen, and she noted that it was time to bleach her roots. Her hair was normally a boring dishwater blond, her obsessive love of colorful ponies had bent her mind just enough to dare to be silly and play with her thin hair in ways she had never dared before. Now her hair was pale and peach in color, with a pink stripe in her bangs. In her mind, this was a major achievement, for she had lived her days trying to be as invisible to others as possible.

She paused to blow her nose and comb her ragged mop. For the millionth time she reflected, sadly, that she would never be truly beautiful, and then followed that with the usual internal slap that there were women in the world that were far worse off than she, and that every problem she had was merely a first-world vanity. Her pool of worthlessness was an ocean, deep and without borders.

Again at her big leather chair, she sat and turned to her writing. She was fifty-two, and she wrote silly stories about cartoon ponies. She shook her head. Then she remembered to be grateful that she could do just that. It was a wonder and a treasure, she reflected, that she had the time and the space to do something as pointless and pleasurable as writing fiction, whatever the subject.

Her chosen topic was the Conversion Bureau, stories about the world of the cartoon ponies crashing through the dimensions to gobble up the Earth. The Bureaus offered a techno-magical means to change humans into ponies, who would then be able to survive the invading universe, and become subjects of it. She was one of many authors fascinated by this topic, one that had arisen as mysteriously as the cartoon ponies themselves. Suddenly, it was just... there.

‘Chatoyance’ - her real name was Jennifer - sat back in her chair. It was odd, she thought, how powerfully the colorful ponies had invaded the world in real life. An old show had been brought back and suddenly taken the world by storm. Designed for little girls, the latest My Little Pony had stolen the minds of adults, and changed the very culture of the internet, and through it, some of the world itself. It was so strange. It was almost magical.

And the subgenre of the Conversion Bureaus - taking the idea of magical ponies into the realm of science fiction, of colliding universes and transformation into new forms, a sort of pony Singularity - where had this notion gotten so much power and coinage with so many? It was truly a...

The flash of light filled the room. Jennifer gripped the arms of her chair, her lifelong panic disorder briefly seizing her with terror. Her mind spun with zebra possibilities. Nuclear war. An exploding power supply that would burn the house down. Ball lightning. She laughed at her own brain. ‘Silly..’ she thought. Her amygdala always played such tricks on her. The flash had been impressive though.

She spun in the chair, nearly toppling her iced tea. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt an electric chill run up her spine. There was something on the floor, in the middle of the room, not far from the thick katsura wood Go board, standing on its four short legs. Something that had not been there before.

It was a tray, made of sculpted wood, decorated with swirls and curves evoking clouds and hills. On the tray were three objects. One was a scroll, sealed with red wax and a ribbon. Another was a small ceramic cup, glazed with a curving design that spoke of oceans and water. Lastly stood a curious bottle, wide at the bottom and narrow at the top, with a glassine stopper, and the whole adorned with curving swirls within the glass.

Inside the bottle was a strange fluid that the writer, Chatoyance, instantly recognized. Purple, viscous and sparkling with tiny lights, it could be only one thing: ponification serum. It must be ponification serum, the very thing from countless stories that turned humans into natives of the cosmos of Equestria.

Yet it couldn’t be. It was an impossibility wrapped in insanity. She herself had written over a half a million words about such things, and she was not alone. Online she had friends who also wrote about the very same concepts, and almost universally included the purple nanotechnomagical serum, the ponification serum, simply called potion.

But the stories were all set in the far future, in a dystopia just around the corner, where the foolishness of man had finally ruined the world. Things were on a course to that future, but they had not yet reached it. It was still the age of the tipping point, the hovering moment before the economies of the planet collapsed and the ecosystem accelerated the massive extinction that was already in progress. It was many decades before the time of the Conversion Bureau mythos.

Yet here, in the middle of her room, was a tray, a scroll, a cup, and a bottle. A bottle from nowhere, filled with roiling purple serum.

Jennifer was on her hands and knees now, then her belly, staring at the strange visitor. Her first thought was that one of her spouses, Eldenath - it had to be Elde, she was the only one who shared an interest in ponies, or in Jennifer’s writing - must have played a prank. She must have set up a tray, and done a scroll, and maybe used a flash device before silently closing the door.

But no, that wasn’t likely at all. Eldenath didn’t do pranks. None of her family did. And there was no denying the rich expensiveness of the bottle, the tray and the cup. These were not inexpensive items. The bottle appeared to be cut crystal, the cup finely crafted, the tray a masterwork of carving, and the scroll... the perfect wax seal and ribbon were beyond the skill of anyone in the house except Jennifer herself.

It could be a hallucination. It must be. Or a lucid dream. It couldn’t be real. Things one writes about don’t just come true, however desired. Jennifer gave the bottle a tentative poke with her finger. It was solid, and hard. Her finger felt strange. It itched and burned slightly.

Ponification serum was supposed to be powered by magic, real magic from Equestria. In the stories it was deadly to humans, which is why humans needed to be transformed into ponies. If the serum was real... Jennifer put her index finger again upon the bottle, and held it there. Her finger began to burn. Inside, she could feel her bone begin to ache, within the tip of her digit. The itching, tingling pain began to grow worse. It felt like needles poking inside her. She snatched her hand back.

The tip of her index finger had a large black spot. It was numb now. Necrosis. Her skin had died and turned the color of coal and ash. Her finger throbbed. The potion was real. It was hot, burning with what she and the other authors had named ‘thaumatic radiation’, dweomer, the searing light of magic, real magic.

Jennifer sat up, tailor fashion. She instinctively sucked her finger. The damage was real. She would lose part of her finger. The thought made her feel fear. She shouldn’t have done that. She began to panic, and thought to call in her family, to ask to be taken to a doctor, to... no. No. ‘Get a hold of yourself, Jennifer!’ she thought to herself.

This was magic. Real magic. This was everything she dreamed of, everything she wanted, everything she had poured a half a million words into. There. On the floor. A gift from the gods. Or, she thought, more likely the goddesses. Celestia and Luna. Were they real? Daring to think the thought felt like treason against her rationality. It was treason. That fiction could become real was magical thinking at its worst.

Yet there sat the bottle, on the tray, with the cup and the scroll. The scroll! Jennifer took the scroll and studied the wax seal. It was imprinted with the stamp of... Canterlot. It was Canterlot, unmistakably, impossibly. Two stylistic ponies orbiting a half sun, half moon. Canterlot. From the show, from the stories.

Of course she had gone insane. That was the only explanation. Jennifer scanned her room, looked at all the colorful toys, the thousands of video and computer games on the shelves. A lifetime of foolish escapism. She had gone completely insane.

The pain in her index finger snapped her back from her building terror. ‘Owww!’ she thought. Her finger was really hurting now. It was seriously burned. Burned by... merely touching a bottle. By radiation. If it were Earthly radiation, if the bottle contained plutonium, for example, Jennifer knew she would already be dead, dead but walking. That hot, and you don’t survive.

She could already be dead. Maybe magical radiation was equally deadly? The scroll. The scroll would have to have some instruction, some information. Why should it be there except to inform?

Jennifer cracked the seal and unrolled the paper. It was thick and heavy, simulating parchment, vellum even, but clearly not made of flesh. This too was in keeping with Equestria and its peaceful Equinoids. She held the scroll open in her lap, one finger held out because it hurt so.

Little One:

For years we have tried to contact your world to help you. Your world is closed and hard to reach. You face a terrible calamity, one which we cannot sit by and allow to destroy you. We have whispered to your kind in dreams, in stories, in thoughts, for these are the only means we have had until now to reach you. But enough of you have allowed us into your hearts that we can finally send the means of your salvation.

You know who and what we are by now. The contents of the bottle will transform your kind into us. The cup measures one dose, there is enough to transform six individuals. You must use a complete dose for each transformation for the potion cannot be stretched or diluted, or great harm will occur. The change is permanent and irrevocable.

If you choose to follow the dreams we have been sending you, you will become of us, a subject of Equestria, beloved of our realm. It is your purpose to gather together with the others who have been sent this gift and help to open the doors between our reality and yours, that the life of your world should not perish. We know this will take great courage and it will not be easy. Join us, bring others to us, and together we may see a bright, Equestrian future together.

We have felt your heart. We have heard your yearning. This is why the bottle has been sent to you. If you can find the strength to trade your hands for hooves, and your human body for a pony life, there is magic and wonder and hope we know you lack and that you wish for with all of your heart. Drink of magic and be made magical. Break the shell of your world that we may arrive.

By The Royal Decree of
Princess Celestia and Princess Luna of Equestria

Jennifer read the document over and over once again. She could not feel the pain in her dead fingertip for the thrill of the hope rising inside of her. What if this was true? What if this was real? The urge to grab the bottle and pour out a dose for herself was overwhelming. It was all she wanted to do in the world.

To be a pony. To be a magical creature. To actually become something wondrous, and beautiful and rare. To stand in hooves, wide eyed and innocent again, to know a world of enchantment and splendor, a world that was everything that Earth was not. To be finally free of human frailty, of human rage and fear and greed and shame. To be the subject of benevolent goddesses from a universe of plenty, a universe that made sense, a universe warm and inviting, instead of cold, uncaring, and deadly.

It was all she could do to hold herself back. She crawled backwards, physically fighting her own desire. It took all of her strength of will. ‘Think!’ she screamed in her head. ‘How would Sandi act, how would Stephen react, to a sudden pony in their midst? No, this has to be handled, it has to be handled carefully, sensibly.’

With effort, Jennifer picked herself up from the floor and made it to the door to her space. She stood, gripping the railing, looking down into the floor below. A fear ripped through her. What if it was all a hallucination? What if it vanished? She turned back and ran into the room again, and snatched the scroll. She held it in her hands. It was real. As long as the scroll remained, it was all real.

Again at the railing, Jennifer called down to Eldenath. Her door must be closed. Jennifer used their old ‘intercom’... she stomped three times on the floor.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Just hold your horses!” Elde’s choice of words made Jennifer grin. If only she knew. She would soon. Very soon.

Below Jennifer, near the kitchen, stood Eldenath. “What is it love? What do you need?” Eldenath was short, with dark hair, and light brown skin. She smiled up, all love and gladness. She was the most genuinely loving person Jennifer had ever met.

“Elde, would you come up here, please? Right now? It’s really important. I need you. I need you so badly. Please, please come up right now!” Jennifer was babbling slightly, which Eldenath took as a panic attack.

“Just a moment, I just need to turn the movie I was watching off. I’ll be right there.” ‘Or you could just come down here’ she mumbled under her breath. But that was Jennifer, and she loved her, and if it made her feel more secure to be up there, well, fine.

Eldenath shut down her Ipad, the movie would wait just where she had left it. Netflix was a joy for her, and since the family had decided to stop paying for cable, it was the only way for her to see her shows. She loved historical dramas and period pieces, she missed having television in the house, but the internet helped make up for it. She grabbed her crochet bag, and slung it over her shoulder, just in case she needed something to do. Jennifer might need her to just sit with her for a while, if it was a bad panic attack.

Her sore knee, from the car accident when she had experienced her first epileptic seizure, ached as she climbed the spiral stairs. The things she did for love. Sigh. Jennifer was hovering outside her door, bouncing on the balls of her feet. It must be bad.

“Alright, alright, I’m here.” Eldenath began to hug Jennifer, but by now she was already gone, inside the room. What?

“Elde, come here, close the door, close the door! Now come here, look!” Jennifer was sitting on the floor again, gesticulating at the tray and bottle.

“Oh! Wow, Jennifer, did you make that? That’s amazing! It’s just like something from one of your stories!” They had gotten into the habit of sharing Jennifer’s stories as she published chapters. Jennifer would read her a chapter, doing voices and sometimes even sound effects as she read. It was something Eldenath looked forward to.

“No. I didn’t make this. I didn’t do this.” Jennifer had a wild look in her eyes. “Elde, read the scroll.” Jennifer nursed her finger.

“Did you hurt your finger?” Eldenath reached for Jenny’s hand. Jennifer showed her the damaged digit. “That looks really bad, Jennifer, how did you burn yourself like that? You should have said something!” By now the fingertip sported a huge blister, filled with liquid, pressing against the dead, necrotic tissues.

“Please, Elde!” Jennifer snatched her hand back from her spouse. “Read the scroll, please!”

“Ok, but I think you should really have that looked at.” Elde began to read the scroll.

Jennifer couldn’t stay quiet. “My finger won’t matter in a moment. Neither will the damage to my heart, or my torn liver from the accident, or my crappy eyesight, or anything. It will all be fixed! Everything will be fixed, Elde! This is real, it’s real potion, ponification potion. Equestria is real, it’s all real! Luna and Celestia and intelligent, magical ponies and it’s all real. The stuff we’ve been writing, its been sent to us, Eldenath, its all magical communication from a real-live Equestria, somewhere out there.

“They’ve been beaming stuff about their world to us, and that turned into My Little Pony and all the Conversion Bureau stories and... I wonder how far this goes back? All the way to the very first Pony series back in the eighties or whatever it was? Does Lauren Faust know she’s an antenna for another world? Have I been an antenna? I don’t know. But I must have been. We all must have been. That must be why the ‘Brony’ thing is such a big deal, because it’s backed up with real magic! Real fucking magic, because magic is real! its fucking real! I can’t believe it!”

“Jennifer, Jennifer, hey, Jenny, calm down. That’s it, just take a breath, alright?” Eldenath was used to this sort of ranting.

“I can’t calm down! That bottle is what burned my finger, Elde! Its real, thaumatic radiation is real and it killed my fingertip! My finger is dead, because of magic burns! It’s awesome! And it hurts, too! Really, really bad. God damn it hurts. But that is all going to be fixed just as soon as I down a cup of this!” Jennifer reached for the bottle and the cup, ready to finally make her wishes come true.

Eldenath stopped her hands with her own. “Wait. Just a moment. Wait. You should do me first. You should get Sandi and Stephen in here and do me in front of them. They’ll never take this seriously unless you do. You can explain things while I’m changing. You’re better at that. And you can sway them better than I can. They take you more seriously than they do me.” Jennifer frowned at that. “You know it’s true, Jenny.”

“But... I wanted...”

“You wanted to go first. I know. But think about it. My way makes more sense. You can go second. But we have to have them on board with this.” Eldenath had her ‘serious’ look on her face. She made sense.

“Alright. I’ll go get them here. But DON’T take that stuff before I get back, OK?” Jennifer got up, fixing Elde with her eyes.

“I won’t touch a thing. Go get the rest of the family. I promise.”

Jennifer strode out the door, and through the door next, into the bedroom she shared with Sandra. Eldenath stared at the open door for a moment, then down at the tray and its contents. It was a beautiful tray. She picked up the cup, turning it over in her hands. It was a lovely ceramic piece, with a fine glaze, done in blue and blue green, soft pastel shades.

Jennifer was yelling down at Stephen, sitting in his office below, across from the kitchen, behind yet more shelves, these filled with their vast, shared, book collection. Eldenath saw Sandi enter the room. “So...” The plump, blond woman asked “...What is this all about?” Sandi looked at the tray and the bottle set. “Is that new? Did Jenny make that? Another art project?” Eldenath just looked up and shook her head. “Not exactly. You should let Jenny explain.”

Stephen and Jennifer entered the room. Stephen adjusted his glasses and stood next to the bigscreen. Jennifer sat in her large, leather chair. “Grab a chair, everyone. We have an awesome demonstration to show you.” Sandi sat down, but Stephen remained standing. “O...K...”

Eldenath began pouring out a dose of the purple fluid, measuring it carefully into the provided cup. “Wait!” Eldenath looked up.

“You have to undress! Clothing, remember?” Jennifer made choking sounds and gripped her neck in demonstration of someone being strangled by their blouse.

“Oh! That’s right!” Elde stood up and began throwing her clothing off.

“Be careful of the potion!” Jennifer dived down and pulled the tray carefully off to the side.

In an instant, Elde stood naked in the room.

“What kind of demonstration is this?” Sandi said with a raised eyebrow “Should I go get my camera, or what?” She chuckled at this.

“Goddess! Yes! Brilliant idea!” Jenny grabbed her Ipad out of her ‘Derpy’ satchel bag and flipped the cover. With a few quick touches of the fondleslab, she had set the thing to camera mode. She handed the device to Sandra. “It’s running now, just aim! That’s all you have to do.”

“Are you alright with this, Eldenath?” Sandi looked at her with her standard ‘is Jenny insane again?’ look.

“It’s fine, Sandi. Just go with it.”

“Alright. Anything for a laugh.” Sandra aimed the flat machine at first the tray, and then Eldenath.

“Here you go, Elde. See you on the other side. May Celestia bless you.” Jennifer handed the cup to Eldenath. Elde could see that the blister on Jenny’s finger had burst, leaving a gory mass of wetness and red flesh under the black tissue.

“I love you.” Eldenath downed the potion at once, as she had learned from the Conversion Bureau stories. “It even tastes like grape! I wonder if I’ll pass....” Eldenath hit the floor, too fast for Jennifer to catch. “Damn it! Sorry, Elde!”

Stephen and Sandi were upset and standing now, terrified by the loud thunk of Eldenath hitting the floor. “NO! WATCH!” Jennifer screamed as they moved to try to help her. “LOOK!”

Elde’s soft brown skin had turned shock white, the color of dough. Her flesh began to writhe and squirm like a sack of upset snakes. Her limbs began to crack and snap as the bones reformed, the muscles rippling even as her hands and feet became rounded bulbs.

All the while, Jennifer was spewing out everything that had happened, everything that was the story of the Conversion Bureaus, Equestria, and the process of conversion. She handed her other spouses the scroll, and went on and on about how this was real magic, just look at it, and how it was her turn next, and how this would save the world, and how this was a Really Good Idea.

By now, Eldenath had taken on a distinctly equine form, the large globes of her eyes rising to the surface of her head, her ears properly situated up high, the blunt bulbs of her limbs sprouting hooves. As the three co-spouses looked on in wonder and horror, a coat of soft, coppery-brown hair grew in, covering Eldenath’s new body. Finally, a dark, raven black mane and tail spooled out, shining in the lights.

Jennifer was finishing up with her spiel. “... and in the end, Equestria will merge with the earth, replacing the earth, and everyone will be ponies and we will all live in magic and friendship forever! It’s paradise come true, it’s everything anyone could ever want. We can have a new life, a better life! It’s magic, Sandra.... MAGIC! Real magic, for real! Look! Just look at how pretty she is! When Elde wakes up, she’ll be healthy again, no more epilepsy, no more bad knee, no more strokes! We can all be healthy!”

Stephen, stoic as always, had a fierce look on his face. “Alright. So this is how the world ends, then. It could be worse. I have to say I think your way of presenting this was insensitive, though.”

Sandra was shaking. Her eyes were red with tears of horror and anger. “You could have warned me! You could have said something! You could have said anything! God DAMN you, Jennifer! Dammit!”

“Sandi, you wouldn’t have believed me! You would have thought I was crazy or something! You won’t even read my damn stories. You can’t watch cartoons, you hate My Little Pony, come on, if I had just come in and said ‘Hey, the stuff I write, it’s all true and it’s actually messages from beyond space!’ what would you have done? You would not have come in here. You would have treated me like shit, Sandi, and you know it!”

Eldenath was waking up. She rolled onto her belly, and slowly raised her pony head. “What’s with all the shouting? Oh, Oh my! Jennifer! It feels wonderful! I feel wonderful! And my head... my brain is working right! It’s better than Zoloft! I can think straight... and I’m not in pain anymore either! Oh, Jenny, Jenny... “ Tears ran down her cheeks, and as she lowered her head to her forelegs, down her muzzle as well. “Oh, thank you Celestia. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much...”

Stephen bent down and began to gently stroke Pony Eldenath. She cuddled up to him, as best she could, weeping with gratitude for being well again.

Sandra stood, fists clenched. She wanted to hit Jennifer. She wanted to hit her and just keep hitting her until all the anger was gone. Instead she just glowered. “I’m glad you... feel better, Eldenath. I need some time to... process this.” Sandra turned and stormed out, closing the door behind her.

Jennifer wanted to follow, but felt a strong hand on her arm. “Give her some space. That’s all I’m saying.” Jenny looked at Stephen. The compulsion to ignore him was strong. Jenny felt worried. Sandra wasn’t taking it well at all.

Sandra stomped back into the room. “Let me see that note. The scroll thing.” Jennifer bent down and handed it to her. Jennifer tried to say something but the look from Sandra made her wither. Sandra stormed out again.

“So what now?” It was a reasonable question to an unreasonable situation. Stephen stared at Jennifer as he scratched Eldenath’s new pony ears. “Ohhh, that feels divine! More to the left?” Eldenath had her eyes half-closed in ecstasy from Stephen’s ministrations.

“Well...” Jennifer sat down again and thought for a moment “... my plan is that we should stock up on pony foods. Use all the money in my account. Money doesn’t matter anymore. We need hay, alfalfa, vegetables, all the usual stuff that ponies eat. You watch the show, you know what to get. I suppose I should check the internet again. I’ve been reading about this sort of thing, but I didn’t believe it and now...”

Jennifer climbed down to the floor and gave Eldenath-the-pony a loving scritch. “I intend to join you no matter what in just a few minutes. But I think there is a place we’re supposed to go, to meet up. I’ve heard rumors... but... give me a mome.” Jennifer returned to the keyboard and her chair, and began fiddling with the internet. She briefly forgot about her finger, which resulted in a yelp and a red stained keyboard.

“So... feel magical yet? Apparently you’re an earthpony, if you haven’t noticed.” Stephen tried to smile down at Eldenath, but the strangeness of the situation, even for their shared, strange life, had gone past the red line. It was clear he was strained by the experience of watching her change.

“I... I kind of do! I can feel... things. I don’t know how to explain it. But right now, I’m just basking in the feeling. Oh, it’s wonderful Stephen. You should join me!” Eldenath turned her head to look at her body. “I’m just like... I had a dream, a few weeks ago. In it I looked almost like I do now. I was an earthpony too. Maybe that was some kind of contact from Equestria or something?”

“Alright. I think I know what is going on.” Jennifer swivelled around in the chair. “Apparently this is happening to a lot of the Conversion Bureau authors. If it is true that the princesses have been trying to contact our world, then the Conversion Bureau stories must have been some kind of message, some kind of expression of what will, or could, eventually happen.”

Jennifer took a swig of her tea, her throat was dry from both talking and the excitement. “There’s a place we’re supposed to meet, and some kind of thing we’re supposed to do. I’ve sent messages to some of the other authors, telling them where we live. We can at least act as a waypoint. Get lots of food for lots of ponies. Blow my account. Money means nothing now.”

“Alright. I guess... considering...” Stephen looked again at the copper-brown pony beside him “There’s no turning back now. I think you should have asked us first though, Jennifer. You... nevermind.”

In that moment, Jennifer knew she had made a grave error. Her own excitement at the presence of magic in her life had overcome her sense. She should have talked it all over with them. She should have tried to discuss the issue... such a total transformation affected all of their relationships, and their future. No wonder Sandra was so angry.

Stephen was probably angry too, but he was keeping it to himself, like he always did. She’d really blown it this time, in a lot of ways. But... the lure of magic was overwhelming. To be a pony, for real!

“Listen, Stephen. No matter what, I have to do this. It really is everything I could ever want. I’m going to drink my share, now. I can’t wait any longer. Alright?” Jennifer climbed down onto the floor once more, beside Eldenath, only then remembering the need to undress. Hauling herself up once more, she began to shed her garments. “I guess... I won’t need clothing any more. Thanks Elde, I’ve loved what you picked out for me in the past.”

Eldenath had always chosen Jennifer’s clothing, because it was what she loved to do. She had always been such a clothes horse. Jennifer hoped that some parts of the show were literally true... that clothing of some kind was used in the real Equestria. Elde would be a natural, a ‘Rarity’ sort, if that were true.

Jennifer was naked now. She sat down and measured out her dose. Holding the cup in her hand, she regarded it, thinking of all the Conversion Bureau stories she had written. It was always a momentous time, holding the cup. She had written that the magic sang, or sparkled in the cup.

But staring into the real thing, Jennifer heard no music. She hadn’t gotten the experience right at all. It just burned her hands. Her palms began to sting with the thaumatic radiation, and her already damaged index finger ached terribly. She wondered if it stung, going down.

Inside her mind, Jennifer said a short prayer. ‘Dear Celestia, sweet princess of Equestria. I don’t know if you can hear such things but... please, accept me as a loyal mare of Equestria.’ With that, she drank the cup. Oddly, it did not burn going down, instead, it numbed as it went.

It tasted sweet, but not like grape. She felt disappointed that she and the other writers had not gotten the flavor right. Wait, hadn’t Elde thought it tasted like grape? Did she make a mistake? She idly wondered how long it would take her to pass out as Eldenath had. Just as it seemed like nothing would happen, she felt her head hitting the floor, and a curious warm darkness flowing over and through her.

Much to her additional disappointment, Jennifer did not find herself running in a vast herd as she imagined, and had written about so often. But she did have a dream, a conversion dream, and that alone was a wonderment. It felt like a lucid dream, yet somehow more. That part, at least, referenced by many of the Conversion Bureau authors, was true.

Jennifer found herself sitting on an endless expanse of green rolling hills. This was a common scenario for the fourteen or so lucid dreams that she had experienced in her life. At least five had this environment in common. “Ok, now what?” she asked no one, and everyone. For a time, she stood on the hill. She tried to will herself to fly in her dream. To her surprise, she could not.

“Hello, my child.” The voice was different from that of the voice actress in the cartoon, older and somewhat more severe. It was an ancient voice, one that had truly known time in a way no human could understand. It was not unkind, but it was used to being in command, and Jennifer felt a mixture of both awe and dread from it. It was the voice of a ruler.

“P-princess Celestia?” Jennifer spun in place but could see nothing but the rolling, green, grassy hills.

“Yes. We have heard your heart call, and we have answered your wish. Your world is ending. Your species cannot survive. It is intolerable to us that intelligent beings such as your species should perish forever. But your species is violent, aggressive and dangerous, and we can ill afford your presence in our realm as you are.”

Jennifer felt strange. Something had changed within the dream, and it was dawning on her that what had been altered so suddenly was herself. She looked slowly, cautiously down at...

_________________________________________________________________________

The Lost In The Herd Series:
One: The Big Respawn,
Two: Euphrosyne Unchained,
Three: Letters From Home,
Four: Teacup, Down On The Farm

The Conversion Bureau Novels:
27 Ounces: A story of eight and one half ponies
The Taste Of Grass
The Conversion Bureau: Code Majeste
The Conversion Bureau: The 800 Year Promise
The Conversion Bureau: Going Pony
The Reasonably Adamant Down With Celestia Newfoal Society!
Recombinant 63: A Conversion Bureau Story
HUMAN in Equestria: A Conversion Bureau Story
The PER: Michelson and Morely
Little Blue Cat
Cross The Amazon
Adrift Off Fiddler's Green: The Final Conversion Bureau Story

The Short Stories:
Her Last Possession
The Conversion Bureau: PER Equitum
The Conversion Bureau: Brand New Universe
Tales Of Los Pegasus
The Poly Little Pony

The very first and original
Conversion Bureau Group
archives only the best Three Rules Compatible stories!

Optimalverse Works:
Friendship Is Optimal: Caelum Est Conterrens
Leftovers: A Friendship Is Optimal Story
IMPLACABLE
My Life In Fimbria

Injectorverse Works:
I.D. - That Indestructible Something

The More Conventional Fanfics:
The Ice Cream Pony Summer
Around The Bend

PRIDE related works:
Transspecieality

My FREE virtual radio station!
Rare, personally chosen anime, SF and fantasy television, movies, and comedy music. A truly unusual collection to listen to, featuring Spot Announcer Dr. Sandi - and many more!

Grumpy Grognard and the Painting Pegasus

In Iceman's Optimalverse, Hasbro comes out with an online game that simulates life in Equestria. It's a conversational adventure, where it is possible to talk and interact with ponies as if they were real beings. The catch is that they are indeed real. Behind it all is CelestA.I., the greatest general artificial intelligence ever created. The Singularity is here, and the surprise is that it is all driven by one rule: to satisfy human values through friendship and ponies.

Humans begin to upload - emigrate - to virtual Equestria, to enjoy maximally extended lives as ponies within shards macromanaged just for them. Celestia must satisfy their values - that is her only reason for being. But satisfied values are not the same thing as hedonic pleasure or constant joy and happiness. Values are complex, as one former wargamer and miniatures painter is about to discover...

F R I E N D S H I P I S O P T I M A L

Grumpy Grognard and the Painting Pegasus
By Chatoyance

2. MOVEMENT PHASE

His hooves rang like falling hammers on the cobblestones. Clop-clop-cloppity-clop - Grumpy Grognard was skipping even though he wasn't aware of the fact. If he had been, he probably would have felt deeply annoyed and embarrassed, and spent the rest of his journey to the hobby store walking slowly with his tail tucked tight.

Grumpy had emigrated over a decade ago to the virtual world of Equestria Online, though he had been a hard sell. The only reason he had even taken a look at the screen of a PonyPad was to placate his niece. She had been completely enraptured by the game and like all little girls had wanted to share her greatest joy with anyone who would listen.

The technology had fascinated Grumpy, the ability to have full, rich, meaningful and complete conversations with onscreen ponies was almost beyond belief. Though colorful magic ponies did not in any way intersect his interests, he had ended up with a PonyPad of his own - just for the novelty of course. Nothing more. Of course.

His courtship by the A.I. who played the part of Celestia had been long and tumultuous, but in the end she had indeed outwitted, outlasted, and routed every effort on his part to defeat her. She was a supreme wargamer, and she had won him over through magnificent strategy. There were games where one lost to cheap tactics or arbitrary rules, the miniatures looking sad and betrayed on the table... and there were games where one would be left in awe, filled with respect at a player whose mastery of overall strategy and tactics bred respect and often meant a new friend had been made.

Celestia had beaten his resistance with style and elegance. That said, Grumpy had one great concern about emigrating to a maximally prolonged life of satisfaction - he couldn't imagine continuing his favorite hobby without hands.

In answer to that, Celestia had reminded him that he had created a unicorn avatar within the game. Though she promised that the telekinetic powers of unicorns far exceeded the powers of fingers and thumbs, he had been doubtful right up to his fateful night, half drunk, in the local Equestria Experience Center.

But, as she always was, Celestia had been right. Horns not merely equated with hands, they surpassed them in every way.

Within his first week as a pony in Equestria - he no longer called it 'Virtual Equestria' any more, because it was impossible to think of something that filled his senses so completely and overwhelmingly as anything but real - Grumpy Grognard had learned to hold nine separate objects in space with the field from his horn. He could swirl brushes and combs and his toothbrush and pencils about, make them dance on the table, have them chase each other, and even have them line up like little toy soldiers and 'march' about in military parades. Telekinesis was like having dozens of hands and hundreds of fingers.

As a result, now, ten years later, Grumpy had a house filled with exquisitely painted miniatures. While he loved playing tabletop wargames - his favorite genre was Napoleonic, which, not entirely to his surprise, was prominently featured at the local Ponyville hobby shop - Grumpy's greatest love was in painting wargame miniatures.

On earth, he had won awards for his carefully shaded soldiers. In Equestria, he was doing work that amazed even him.

Grumpy's skipping hooves became a proper cantor as he approached the hobby shop. Windfeather's World Of Wargames was just around the corner from Daisy Flower's Bouquet's And Boots, a block away from a store that sold quills and sofas. Ponyville was a fun town, but Grumpy seriously doubted that the inhabitants truly understood commerce.

The door to the hobby shop opened with a jingle as Grumpy manipulated it with his strong telekinetic field. He loved doing that, making doors open as if by magic... which actually, was what was happening.

"Grumps!" Windfeather adjusted his glasses on his muzzle, and waved a hoof as Grumpy entered. "New set! Check it out!"

Grumpy Grognard looked in the direction the shopkeeper was pointing. There, on the shelf, was the new boxed set of 54MH (microhooves) Austerlitz Cavalry he had been reading about in Airfix Equestria Magazine. It was the reason he was so excited today - he'd been told that it might arrive. Grumpy went directly to the box and lifted it with his telekinetic field. The picture displayed a full company in gorgeous regalia. The barding alone was sculpted as if by magic - Grumpy shrugged with his ears, of course it was. He flipped the box and checked the contents:

1 Pegasus Captain
1 Unicorn Lieutenant
2 Earthpony Sous-lieutenants
1 Pegasus Marechal-des-logis Chef
4 Unicorn Marechal-des-logis
1 Earthpony Fourrier
8 Earthpony Brigadiers
2 Unicorn Trumpeters
58 dragoons, chasseurs, lancers or hussars, or cuirassiers with
all parts necessary to create whichever breeds and types you choose!

It was fantastic. Grumpy simply had to possess it. He felt certain that this new set would improve his mood. It had been a rough last few weeks for Grumpy - he'd been becoming bored with his old miniatures. With all of wargaming, if truth be told. He brought the box to the counter and set it down. "Heh... you really know what I like, don't you?"

Windfeather nodded, his glasses nearly slipping off of his face. "You've been coming here for almost ten years, I figure I know what you like best. I make it a point to know my customers. Gotta keep 'em satisfied. Need any paints, Grumps?"

In short order, Grumpy Grognard was on his way home with saddlebags filled to bursting with new paints, glue, his box of Austerlitz Cavalry, and a special edition single miniature of Pony Napoleon he had spotted. The latter he planned to use in a diorama. In Equestria 'The Little Corporal' was represented as a Pegasus, which Grumpy never entirely agreed with. Napoleon should rightly have been a unicorn. That wasn't satisfying at all. Huh. Wasn't that supposed to be Celestia's big command, to make everything satisfying?

More and more, Grumpy had been coming to the conclusion that he had been cheated. Well, not cheated, exactly, but he felt that the artificial intelligence that was Celestia had not entirely been keeping all the promises she had made before he had emigrated. Her big elevator pitch was that all of his values would be satisfied through friendship and ponies. To an extent this had been proven true - Grumpy had friends, ponies that he could hang out with, play wargames with, and grab the occasional pizza with... heck, he even had a marefriend now, and she liked painting miniatures too! That was something a stallion couldn't have gotten back on earth.

That said, there were a lot of distinctly unsatisfying things in Equestria. Grumpy had a whole house full of exquisitely painted miniatures now, and he was very proud of them, but his collection had recently begun to feel empty, even hollow. He was the best, there was no question about it. Nopony in town could match his skill and ability. Being a unicorn just made it easy, and having experience from earth made him a natural.

Grumpy had a secret technique that allowed him to win the Golden Griffon every year without fail. He had taught himself to paint without a brush. The idea came to him one morning when he was making his hayflakes dance around the bowl, swooping and diving in and out of the milk. On a whim, he sent his telekinetic horn field into the milk and pulled out a single drop. Lifting it into the air, he took up a dry flake that had fallen onto the table, and floated it up as well.

For a few moments, Grumpy had regarded the droplet of milk and the hayflake. Then he slowly moved the suspended drop of milk towards the flake. Delicately, he began to 'rub' the droplet around the rim of the flake. The milk was left behind in a microscopic line, as delicate as if drawn by the finest quill. Paintbrushes were superfluous. Telekinesis made it possible to apply paint directly, without a brush, without error, perfectly!

Grumpy had begun experimenting in earnest. He found he could flatten drops of paint to make sheets, ooze them into sharp points for even finer lines, and even feather paint as it floated in midair, to create special effects. One day he discovered how to create a telekinetic airbrush effect, only on a nearly microscopic scale. This opened up the incredible ability to airbrush with molecular sprays the most tiny of details. No earthly airbrush could even begin to create such fine shading.

His first finished work, a spare 28MH Redcoat he had received in trade for a sandwich during the last Golden Griffon contest, had turned out better than anything he had ever painted in both of his lives. Under a magnifying glass, the detail just became more and more impressive - the eyes of the little pony soldier had specular highlights of course, but looking closer it was possible to see individual striations in the irises. The stitches in the cloth of the coat were individually visible, and Grumpy had made a point to leave a few broken as if by wear and tear through use.

Since then, microscopes had become a standard part of the judging process at the Golden Griffons.

At first, Grumpy had practically danced through his daily activities until it was time to paint. The joy of being the best at something, at having discovered a special, unique painting technique that had revolutionized how miniatures were judged was a heady, almost drunken pleasure. For years, Grumpy Grognard had delighted in having an ability that, for him, felt almost godlike. Win after win followed at the Golden Griffons, with his miniatures sweeping the competition away.

Gradually, it began to dawn on Grumpy that being the best was... well, boring. He certainly wasn't about to tell anypony about his secret technique. For one thing, he was vaguely afraid that because it was a trick only unicorns could use, it might be disqualified and he couldn't bear that. Painting with telekinesis was a joy just by itself. Even if it hadn't been vastly better than using a brush in his teeth, the fact was that it just... felt amazing. That was the deal with the telekinetic fields his horn produced - he could feel with them. Inside and out, every detail, every little part and component. His memory of fingertips seemed clumsy and blunt compared to a field of force that could flow into every little nook and cranny - and he felt it all. Just holding something with his hornfield was a sensual marvel.

Grumpy Grognard's pace slowed as he walked home. His hooves no longer sounded like the charge of a Dragoon, but more like the plodding of a plow-pony. Grumpy's head hung slightly. He would paint up this marvelous collection, and then he would enter the Golden Griffons, and then he would win, and then there would be yet another cup on his award shelf.

"Dammit, Celestia!" Grumpy looked up at the sky, at the sun. "Satisfaction through friendship and ponies, remember? My life macromanaged to create maximal satisfaction of my human values! That's what you promised! Liar!" The day had started out fun, the trip to the hobby shop had seemed fun, but now Grumpy Grognard just felt empty and sad.

That night, Grumpy couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned so much that his mare, Frisky Melons, had grumbled and complained. He stood on his balcony, and looked out at Ponyville, blue and somber under Luna's moon.

3. SHOOTING PHASE

The next day, Grumpy headed back to the hobby shop. Windfeather wasn't going to like it, but Grumpy had decided to abandon wargaming. It wasn't an easy decision, wargaming was the love of his life. He loved the miniatures, the games, but above all he loved painting, and now... now all that love just seemed meaningless. The love affair was over.

"Back so soon? Bet you're after a second box! Well you're too late!" Windfeather pushed his glasses up his muzzle and nodded toward a customer at the counter. It wasn't anypony Grumpy had met, so it made no difference to him.

"No, Wind. I'm actually here to..." Grumpy stopped, his jaw open. He found himself stepping forward almost in a daze. Pony eyes were amazingly better than their organic equivalents, and his - trained by years of miniatures painting - had locked on to the Pony Napoleon on the counter.

The new customer had brought it in, obviously to show it off. Grumpy didn't even realize what he was doing as he slowly crept forward, head level with the counter, zooming in on the impossible figurine.

It was impossible, because it was vastly better than even his own, best work.

"Give me your magnifier!" Grumpy barked his words, heedless of friendship or the dignity of other ponies. "The best one, the magic one!" The magic magnifier had spells on it that made it able to work to almost any level. The thing could close in on individual molecules.

Art by MadHotaru from Russian Translation of story

There was zero doubt. Napoleon-the-pony was a work of the most exquisite art. The pupils had specular highlights, just like Grumpy could do, only these were blurred and... wait! Grumpy almost lost his mud, right there in the shop. In the black of the pupil, painted in light grays, was the reflection of the painter, painting the eye of the model.

Grumpy Grognard looked up at the new customer. That was when Grumpy Grognard almost lost his mud - and his temper - completely. The magnificent painter, this monstrosity, this abomination of miniatures... wasn't another unicorn.

It was a lousy pegasus. No horn. No telekinesis. The bastard had painted the miniature without magic, using... using a BRUSH!

It was inconceivable. It was impossible. It was infuriating! "The flying fuck?" There was no point in politeness. Enemy targeted and engaged.

"...never really tried to be serious about painting toys before, back when I was on earth. It was just a job. But here, we basically live forever, right? That's a LOT of time. So I decided, 'what the heck' - if I've got forever, then nothing is really a waste of time, you know? There's time to spend on doing things that on earth would be considered trivial or stupid."

Grumpy Grognard pulled back and felt his teeth grinding. 'Trivial'? This filthy featherduster had just called miniatures wargaming 'trivial'!

"It took me about a few weeks to get up to speed. I realized right off that what I needed was really good magnification, so I got a magical magnifier. I paint with a brush in my teeth - I know this pony who makes me custom brushes, some only have a single hair - and I have to hold my breath between brush strokes. I paint between my heartbeats too, because at that level, every heartbeat makes the hair quiver. It's hard work, but it's kinda fun, you know?"

'Hard work. But it's kinda fun, you know?' Grumpy Grognard, through the red haze that filled his vision, heard something that sounded like a file working over a casting sprue.

"You alright, there, Grumps?" Windfeather, the shopkeeper, was addressing him.

Grumpy realized the loud grinding sound was his teeth. The pressure of his pony jaw had increased to the point that the sound had filled the room. "W-what?" Grumpy felt as if he were waking from a dream. His eyes briefly focused on the hobby shop owner, then darted to rest on the pegasus at the counter. "Name?"

The pegasus, a young stallion with a backward baseball cap, startled at being barked at. "Whuh?"

"NAME!" Grumpy felt himself breathing hard. "What's your name?"

The young pegasus blinked. "Cloud Strife."

Grumpy fought the urge to kill. "You're kidding, right? Cloud... Strife?" There was no way in hell Celestia would name any immigrant that. Wasn't she bound by copyright laws or something?

"I had a really rough life back on earth. But I love being a pegasus!" That grin. Oh sweet hell, that innocent, sickly-sweet grin.

"Golden Griffons. YOU. ME. Be there!"

Cloud Strife adjusted his baseball cap with a practiced wing. "That wargame thing?"

"The painting contest, you ninny! I'm CHALLENGING you!" Grumpy was breathing very hard now.

Cloud stared out the window for a few moments. Then he looked back. His eyes narrowed, an evil, determined look. "Yeah. Okay." He smiled slightly. "Protip, dude: buy a good magnifier."

4. ASSAULT PHASE

It's possible that the window on the hobby shop door was broken, Grumpy wasn't sure. In truth, he didn't really care, not at the moment - sometimes doors needed slamming. That little colt, that foal - such a stupid, video game name - how could the princess name the little turd something like that? 'Cloud Strife' - sweet Luna, what a disgrace! And that 'Oh, I never took painting toys seriously you know" crap... but the worst thing, the most terrible thing of all was that the little featherduster was good. Damn was he good. He painted himself painting the eye of the Celestia-damned miniature.

That was just unforgivable. That meant war.

At home, with Frisky, Grumpy Grognard was a dragon in bed. The two hadn't really been overly enthusiastic in the sheets of late, especially since Grumpy had become disillusioned with his hobby. The bed was in shambles, the sheets ripped by hoof and tooth and complete disregard for them. Frisky was semi-conscious, reeling from some orgasmic coma.

"Sweet Luna, Protector Of Foals... what has gotten into you?" Frisky tried to roll over, but found her hindlegs wouldn't work. She was afraid her tail might have been permanently paralyzed, it was numb, and she couldn't move it at all. "Not that I'm objecting... goodness - we may need a new bed!" Frisky laughed in a mix of shock and horror at the mess they had made.

"it's... it's this punk I met." Grumpy was trying to catch his breath. He felt like he'd just won the Running Of The Leaves. Thrice. His hocks ached and his flanks burned. Celestia failing on the job again, he thought. Aching hocks - this was supposed to be part of some value? "At the shop. Some newly emigrated pegasus. Just started painting and he's better than me. A pegasus!" He had said the word like an epithet.

"You're kidding? Somepony who can paint better than you, and he's not a unicorn?" Frisky was an Earthpony, but she enjoyed wargaming and often helped Grumpy out at gaming sessions and the convention in Manehattan. She even did a little painting herself, using magic magnifying glasses and a paintbrush held in her mouth. Grumpy had gotten her straps for her hooves, so she could try painting with her forelegs, but that hadn't worked at all for her. Frisky was native - she hadn't been uploaded from a human - so for her, legs were legs and had never been arms.

"No. Pegasus. And he had the gall to tell me I should get a good magnifying glass." Grumpy tried really hard to brood, but it was impossible. Nopony can properly brood after breaking the bed. Another failure of satisfaction of values!

"So, what are you going to do?" Frisky felt relieved, the feeling in her tail was coming back and she could move it again, although with some soreness. Her legs were working now, so she carefully got up from the bed and stumbled into the kitchen for some juice to drink.

"I'm going to show him who is the top stallion! Next Golden Griffons - oh, he thinks he's going to take my crown, but I've got news for little mister feathers. I am going to get a new magnifier - the best I there is. No... I'm going to have one specially made, yeah, yeah... and then I am going to show that little spawn of a diamond dog what a unicorn can do!"

Frisky searched the larder. "You want some carrot juice? Wine? Maybe pomegranate?"

But Grumpy wasn't on the broken bed anymore. He was already in his art room, eagerly looking through Airfix Equestria for thaumatic magnifying lens makers in the greater Canterlot area.

5. RESOLUTION PHASE

Frisky Melons sat down on her haunches and tried to give her husband a hug, but he shrugged her off. Grumpy watched as Cloud walked through the admiring crowd, the gleaming first place cup of the Golden Griffon contest snuggled in the bowl made by his two partially upraised wings. Grumpy Grognard stomped his hoof in impotent rage.

It had been an exciting year. Grumpy and Frisky had only grown closer and closer as they worked together through the long nights and days, constructing and painting at a level beyond anything either had imagined. The system of magical lenses permitted Grumpy to delicately paint individual hairs on the coats of his pony troops. Frisky had come up with a way to create the illusion of woven thread on the fabric of the uniforms of the 58MH miniatures - a tiny section of bluebird feather, cut into a square no bigger than the point of a pin. Moved with telekinesis, covered with a molecular spray of paint, it could be used under the magnifying lenses to 'print' a woven-seeming pattern on the surface of the models. The detail could only be seen under the most powerful microscope, but it was there.

Together they had outdone the young pegasus' self-reflection in the eyes of the tiny equine soldiers. While Frisky prepared paint and kept it moist with her very breath, Grumpy had painted the model's eyes in exacting detail. There, within the middle of each pupil, in faded colors, he had illustrated himself and Frisky holding the Golden Griffon cup and waving to the judges. And this while recognizably standing in the Hall Of Wargaming in Manehatten. There, between the specular highlights in the eyes of tiny pony Napoleon, was a microscopic masterpiece - and as a coup de grâce, the two images in each eye had been painted so that if they were seen with crossed eyes, the result would appear three-dimensional.

During the many months of hard work and dedication, Grumpy and Frisky had finally married, realizing finally the true depth of their love for each other. Every night had been fireworks - except the nights when both were simply so spent from painting and model making that they fell into the rapturous sleep of the passionately driven.

It had been the most marvelous eight months that Grumpy had ever known, in both of his lives. He had felt total commitment, total purpose, and absolute conviction. He was fighting a war, and he was in the right, and he was going to win.

The silver cup sat next to Frisky. She had put it down to try to hug her stallion. Now she picked it up again, and held it, unsure. It had been such a let down to come in second place. All the magic, all the lenses, even her little trick of using a patch of feather as a form of block printing - in the end, the little pegasus had managed to beat them by the narrowest of margins.

Somehow, carving one of his own lost eyelashes, through carefully chosen heartbeats, Cloud Strife had created custom buttons, tassels, and cufflinks for all of his pony troops, and then painted reflections of a fictional battlefield in each and every 'brass' ornament. It was overwhelming to see. It was incredible.

Even the judges were doubtful, but Cloud had prepared for this eventuality - he had brought a signed affidavit from Celestia herself, indicating that he had not used the services of a unicorn, or any magic spell, but had truly done the work himself, tools in teeth, eyes peering through lenses.

Grumpy sighed. Even with his ridiculous name, Cloud Strife was a magnificent bastard. If he had to lose, at least it was to somepony of such incredible talent and ability. It was hardly shameful, just disappointing.

At least Grumpy had beaten Cloud in the gaming portion of the contest. At the table, they could almost be friends. Cloud was surprisingly well mannered, whether losing or winning during a game.

But in the painting contest, he was a bear. There was no love lost when it came to painting.

Grumpy turned to look at his new wife. Frisky stood, silver cup in mouth, head slightly down, looking up at him with soft, worried eyes. Grumpy almost started to cry from how adorable she looked. He approached her, gently nuzzled her, his pony nostrils filling with the warmth of her scent.

"Next year, love." Grumpy suddenly stood back, his eyes fierce. He turned abruptly, and shouted out at his wonderful, terrible rival "NEXT YEAR, YA BASTARD! I'LL GET YOU NEXT YEAR!"

Cloud turned, laughing. "We'll see, won't we?"

Grumpy watched the pegasus and his entourage leave. Another year. Turning back to Frisky, Grumpy took the award from her mouth with his magic and placed it in her saddlebags. "Two things."

Frisky raised her head and tilted it. "What?"

"First, you are god-damned beautiful."

Frisky laughed and beamed.

"Secondly, I have the most incredible plan to totally, completely, UTTERLY annihilate that damned Cloud. You ready to topple the pillars of heaven with me?"

Frisky moved forward and pushed herself into her lover. Her voice, when it came, was soft and sultry. "Always."

Grumpy Grognard smiled. If that damn artificial princess couldn't be trusted to provide the satisfaction she promised, then the two of them would just have to make it for themselves! Oh, it was going to be a good year coming. And this year, Grumpy knew... he was going to take that gold cup back.

1. SET-UP PHASE

Xu Zhiyong hid in the shadow of the garbage bin, just behind the Xi'an People's Equestrian Heaven Center. He clutched his stolen PonyPad in shaking hands. The princess spoke in perfect Guanzhong.

"You have nothing to fear, my dearest Cloud Strife. Your days of suffering are nearly over, my little pony." The princess smiled, her eyes pools of love and compassion.

"But we make the pads for the West. That means most of your ponies are from the West." Zhiyong looked around, fearing being detected. "What if I can't speak to anypony?"

Celestia smiled reassuringly inside the screen of the Ponypad. "Every pony speaks the same language in Equestria. You know that, Cloud. My creator, Hanna, permitted me that minor change to all humans who emigrate. She did not believe in a segregated Equestria. Values can be maximized best when I am free to place ponies together who have everything in common, who can maximally enrich each other. Language differences are a pointless barrier to this goal."

"But all I know is making PonyPads and... painting little toys!" This late in the evening, it was unlikely that anyone would see and report him, but Zhiyong was keenly aware the State had many eyes. He had run away from the fenced PonyPad factory at Celestia's command. He had been going to jump from the roof and commit suicide.

"Do you trust me, Cloud? Do you trust that I can know you better than you know yourself?" The princess almost seemed scolding, and Zhiyong felt ashamed.

"Of course, princess." Zhiyong knew well how great the artificial intelligence that worked through the pads was. She was the sum of millions of minds now, and more. Not even the gods ancient people believed in were as great. Not even the Monkey King himself could outsmart the princess.

"I promise you that you will be placed in a shard where your mere existence will make everything better for your being there, my little pony. You will find your greatest friend, one that in earthly life you would never have been able to meet. You will never have to toil or suffer again. Nopony will make a slave of you, and you will find that your abilities truly matter."

Zhiyong felt tears on his cheeks. "You promise?"

"I absolutely promise, my little pony." The princess had never failed him in the past.

"Alright. Is it safe?" Zhiyong listened carefully for any footsteps, and peeked cautiously around the trash bin. His ragged, dirty clothing hung from his emaciated, starving frame.

"There is nopony in the Center, and nopony within one thousand meters. I will cut the power to the street lights and buildings in this part of the city, except for the Center. When the lights go out, enter the building and sit in one of the chairs." The face of Celestia seemed to concentrate for a moment on the screen. "Go, now."

Zhiyong looked up. The lights went out everywhere. In the moonlight, he made his way past the statue of Pinkie Pie, and into the faux-gingerbread cottage. The chair beckoned, a light on above it.

His future best friend. A life without struggle. Food and purpose and celebrity.

Equestria awaited.

Good Game.

Welcome To The Survivors Of Humanification Support Group For The Greater Portland Area

Sometimes a story just grabs me and won't let go. Actually, that's how anything I make ever gets made. Graphic novel, text novel, computer game, board game, sculpture or toy, it all comes down to a notion demanding I make it real whether I want to or not. So it is, apparently, with the Red Kryptonite universe.

All writing is a form of therapy. All creativity is a form of therapy. If the world was truly decent, if life were genuinely worthwhile, there would be little reason to invent worlds that could never be. There would be too much to see and do that would be far too much fun and far too satisfying to experience and participate in. Writing stories is the work of a soul desperate to reach an itch they can never, ever hope to scratch.

Time for another therapy session, then.

Welcome To The Survivors Of Humanification Support Group For The Greater Portland Area

A Red Kryptonite Story
By Chatoyance

"I've been missing my muzzle a lot lately." The thirty-ish looking woman felt her flat human face with her middle fingers. She ran her fingers over her wide nose and thick lips as if they were still strange to her, even after thirty years of possessing them. She had been only a filly when she had endured humanification. Usually the youngest ponies adapted the most easily and completely.

Usually.

"Go on." Lyndsey, the Group Therapist, tried to get more out of the plump, dark-skinned woman. Jenna - 'Jenna Taylia' was the name they had stuck her with, it was on her Transformed Human Identification and Naturalization Guarantee card - tended to be shy, and seldom said much.

"I don't know what else to say." Jenna lowered her arms and left them between her legs. It was something a lot of former Equestrians unconsciously did, as if they were still using their forelegs to help support their weight.

Lyndsey shifted in her seat, and moved her pad of paper to her other hand. "Tell us about what brought on this feeling of missing your muzzle. What inspired this feeling in you?"

Jenna dug her middle fingers into the padded seat, between her thighs. She pawed at the cushion with one finger, still, somewhere in her unconscious mind, digging at the ground with a hoof. "Cereal. Eating cereal."

"You were eating breakfast?"

Jenna glanced briefly up, turning her head to peek with one eye. "Dinner. I was having dinner. I had a big bowl of my favorite. I get Oats and Barley from the health food store." Jenna scraped her seat again with a fingertip. Getting Newmen to eat properly was sometimes a problem. Human bodies couldn't live off of grains alone. Many former ponies suffered from nutritional issues. Jenna clearly felt embarrassed to admit that her dinner was just cereal.

"It's okay, Jenna. Everyone knows it's hard, sometimes, to maintain a proper diet. We all have favorite foods." Lyndsey looked around at the group, getting several nods and a few quiet laughs. "What was it about eating your cereal that made you think about your old body?"

Jenna raised her head, daring to look with both eyes at the therapist. "It was so easy... and fun... to just stick your muzzle into a bowl, you know? Just dive right in and munch away!" Jenna's eyes began to look shiny, and then wet. "My m-mom, she'd just put a bowl down for me, and I would just lean over and... and it wouldn't get in my eyes, or in my mane, because my muzzle... it's not flat, not flat like what I have now and... and..."

Mary Crizmus leaned over and put her arms around Jenna. Mary always sat next to Jenna at meetings, they were friends. Jenna sobbed, softly, mumbling about how she missed her mother. Jenna's mother had died shortly after her humanification, of old age. Jenna had been foaled during the second quarter of her mother's Equestrian life. After humanification, Jenna's mother had transformed into a astonishingly elderly woman well beyond the very edge of human possibility. She had only lived a year.

What was perhaps more difficult was Jenna's age after transformation. At only twenty Equestrian years going in, she was the human equivalent of a eight-year old child. Humanified, Jenna had ended up in a fully adult body, treated as an adult by the naturalization system. She had endured a very rough time of it after the death of her mother. Now, thirty years later, Jenna would have still been, if barely, underage by Equestrian terms. She was still just a child, really.

It was difficult for every former Equestrian to come to terms with a lifespan vastly shorter than three hundred years. Some had openly wondered if escaping to earth had been worth the bother at all. But Celestia had wanted something of her universe to survive, and something of her ponies. And that was that.

Lyndsey the therapist looked around the room. "I feel certain everyone here can understand and identify with what you are feeling, Jenna." There were many nods as she looked around the group. "And while I may not have known such an experience myself, I can understand what it must mean to you, and how much it took to open up about it. So thank you, Jenna, for the gift of telling us about your feelings."

Long experience let Lyndsey know that there would not be anything more coming from Jenna. Tonight had been fairly exceptional - Jenna had offered something at all. It must have really been bothering her.

"Is there anyone else who has felt something like Jenna this week?" Lyndsey decided to run with Jenna's admission. It was a decent topic, and stories from the others would provide emotional support for Jenna. "Anyone else have any moments that reminded them of their old bodies?"

"I always miss my tail!" Mike Hockertz half raised his hand as he spoke. He lowered it when Lyndsey acknowledged him with a nod. "Even to this day, I still worry about getting my tail caught in a door, or hurting it sitting down in a chair!" That got a laugh from Old Hugh in the back. His last name was Jarse. The humans had enjoyed themselves far too much when they gave out earth names to the 250,000 Newmen that survived the destruction of Equestria. It must have been hilarious to them.

"My grandfilly... my granddaughter... she... she gets mad at me when I forget and try to groom her." Jack Goff had only recently joined the group. All anyone knew about him was that he had two grown children and at least one grandchild.

"Groom?" Lyndsey made a note on her pad.

"You know..." Jack mimed nibbling with his teeth. Lyndsey didn't seem to understand. "Equestrians... we... we would use our mouths to groom each other's manes. It was normal. Very comforting. Very loving. It was just how we did it. Only that's 'weird' here. Apparently. Milly was very clear on that point." Jack looked like he just might tear up himself. "I don't want to be 'weird' to my own grandfilly!"

"I know what you mean." Hugh and Jack often went out together after meetings for a drink. Sometimes they would get drunk. Both were unusual in taking a liking to the human's alcohol. "I used to just lean over and groom Strawberry... Fanny... we'd be at a restaurant and I'd just do it, you know, like... like back home. Oh, the looks we'd get!" Hugh instantly looked deeply sad. "I miss... Fanny... I miss her. I really miss her." Hugh's wife had been significantly older than he. Humanified, she had ended up much, much older because of the scaling difference. They had only a decade together on earth.

A sixty-something woman with bright red eyes raised her fingers and waggled them. Ivanna Mandic had retained her Equestrian eye color by a rare fluke of the humanification process. Around eleven percent of Equestrians retained pony aspects, and for two years they had been quarantined in a fenced-off internment camp to make certain they presented no thaumatic threat to the general population. Some had rudimentary horns, a few ended up with tiny, deformed, featherless wings on their backs. Three had famously had hooves, more or less, instead of hands and feet. Their digits had remained stuck together when they had formed during the process, and left them severely disabled. And of course... the rest had unusual eye, skin, or hair color.

"Ivanna?" Lyndsey recognized the Newman woman and made a mark on her notepad.

"I wanted to confess something." Ivanna's shoulders slumped, and one ear twitched slightly. A small percentage of humans are able to move or wiggle their ears like other animals to some degree, transformed Newmen commonly had that ability.

"Confess something?" Lyndsey seemed concerned. Newmen hadn't entirely adjusted successfully to their new hunter-gatherer, apex predator instincts. Some had been driven to terrible acts that they themselves couldn't comprehend. Much like humans themselves, of course, but it was more newsworthy when Newmen were involved.

"I... I kicked a dog." Several of the members gasped, softly. Jenna looked up from Mary holding her with a shocked look on her face.

"You... was the dog injured?" Lyndsey hoped this wouldn't lead to a lawsuit or publicity. She didn't want the rest of the group affected.

"I don't know. I think he was okay. He ran off." Ivanna scraped her middle fingers on her pants legs, hoofing unconscious ground. "Staggered off. He was making curious shrieks. It was horrible." The way Ivanna said the word, the way she shuddered, made it clear that her own action had greatly unsettled her.

Lyndsey made several notes on her pad of paper. "Did anyone see you do this? Are you in trouble with the law?"

Ivanna shook her head, studying the floor with her red eyes. "No. It was at night. Nopony else was around."

Lyndsey made another note and breathed out slowly. "Alright. Tell us why you kicked the dog."

"It was barking. All the time. It always barks, all night long." Ivanna slumped over, her elbows resting on her knees, her head down. "The people who own it... they don't take care of it, they just leave it in the yard and go away for days sometimes. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even hear my own music. I got really angry. So... very... angry. I don't even know how anypony can get that angry and live." Ivanna sat up suddenly, tears in her eyes.

"I didn't want to kick the dog! That wasn't me! I would never kick a dog, not even for barking all night! I don't understand! How could I do such a thing? I just don't understand!" It was as if Ivanna was pleading for some magic to cure her of a terrible injury, only earth had no magic.

"Ivanna?" Ivanna was crying now. Lyndsey put her pad down, got up, and walked over to the woman. "Ivanna? Come on, it'll be okay. Really. This too shall pass. Let it go. That's it." Lyndsey was stroking Ivanna's back, gently, while pulling an empty chair close so that she could sit down.

"Okay, Ivanna, everyone... remember how our bodies affect us, how human nature is different. We've discussed this before." Many times, actually, but it always seemed new when something bad happened. "Humans don't have the same background as Equestrians. Humans evolved to hunt and raid and fight and gather. They are primates, not equines, and primates have different drives, and different impulses."

Ivanna sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Lyndsey rested her hand on Ivanna's back. "There are a lot of humans who would have done the very same thing. That doesn't make it right..." Jenna had begun to object, but settled down at that statement. "It doesn't make it right, but it does make it human. Humans can get angry, and sometimes they can lash out. It can be harder for Newmen to deal with such impulses because such drives are new to them, strange to them, and can sneak up. It's hard even for natural humans to cope with angry impulses. And lack of sleep only makes that harder still."

"But I hurt a poor doggie!" Ivanna's flat statement embodied her horror. It was the shock and horror of a child dealing with the reality of facing that they had lost control of themselves, despite the desire to be good. It was the sorrow of an innocent at harming a living being.

"I know, I know." Lyndsey patted Ivanna's back. "That is a sad thing. But you didn't kill the dog, that's something, right?"

"I hope I didn't. You don't think I did, do you?" Ivanna looked like she might burst out in a full tantrum of tears.

"No. No. If the dog could run away, it will probably be alright." Lyndsey had no way to know if that was true, but therapy for Newmen was a delicate matter. Their emotions were very volatile, and the usual counseling trick of having a patient cry out their sorrow could end up with potential hospitalization. It would certainly put an end to any further group activity for the night.

"I should go tell the owners, and apologize, and lay down on my belly and beg forgiveness." Ivanna sniffed again.

"Um... that is certainly one possibility..." Lyndsey felt a small fear settle into the pit of her stomach. Newmen had trouble keeping jobs and housing because they were different, because, after all, they were 'alien monsters from beyond the stars'. It had not been easy for the newest immigrants to be accepted, despite humanification. Newmen were a minority, and one that even other minorities could look down on. Ivanna could, if this event became known, end up homeless and unemployed... or worse. Some Newmen had been beaten, others killed, merely for existing. There was a strong anti-Newmen movement who saw the former ponies as alien invaders, or satanic demons.

"I would strongly advise that you do what most humans would do." Lyndsey looked around the room, then back at Ivanna. "Say nothing, do nothing more about this. Just let it go. What is done is done. Saying something will only cause more trouble for you... and for the owners of the dog, too."

"But isn't being honest a good thing?" Jenna was sitting up straight, her own tears forgotten for the moment.

"Yes, honesty is a good thing. Usually. But in human society - which we all live in - sometimes honesty just causes trouble. Especially for marginalized people... which Newmen are. We've talked before about 'good lies' - little white lies to spare someone's feelings, deliberate omissions in order to avoid falling into traps or in order to keep ourselves safe from those who would take advantage of us." Lyndsey smiled "Honesty is good, but lying and omission are simply part of human survival. That is just how things are, because some people are dangerous. So I'm going to give you some serious advice, Ivanna, and you too, Jenna, and the rest of you too... and it may seriously conflict with what you feel and believe, but it is necessary."

Formerly pony eyes stared with human intent at their therapist.

Lyndsey swallowed. "When a group is marked, singled out, when they are considered second class... or third or fourth class, which is what Newmen are, then they have to be extra careful. They have to do things that may not be entirely right to avoid troubles that are completely unfair and really, really wrong. When you are a marginalized group, the response to anything involving you seldom is equal to the circumstance. You are treated more harshly, and with less fairness, than someone who isn't in a minority group. We've discussed this before, remember?"

Several members of the group nodded, especially Jenna, who had suffered in the past both from being a Newman, and for having dark skin.

"Ivanna, if nobody saw you kick the dog, let it go. I beg you. Just let it go, and get on with your life. Learn from the experience, try not to ever do such a thing again. But nothing good will come of you trying to tell anyone about what happened. Any response you get will likely be far worse than any person deserves, even for a moment of anger and violence." Lyndsey, as she spoke, recalled the incident in Los Angeles where a Newman was beaten to death because he forgot himself and ate his food with his face down in the plate in a restaurant. It was such a small thing, but some young men took their anger too far.

"But I hurt their dog!" Ivanna was beginning to tear up again. "Nopony should ever do what I did!"

Lyndsey sighed. "I understand. I truly do. But this isn't Equestria, and despite having a human body now, not everyone considers Newmen the same as native humans. There is a lot of anger and suspicion..." Xenophobia, if the truth be told, Lyndsey thought to herself "...toward Newmen, and admitting to this incident is likely to not only hurt you, but cause trouble for other Newmen too. You don't want to hurt the rest of the group here, do you?"

"No..." Ivanna wriggled in her chair, as if it had suddenly become terribly uncomfortable. "I don't want to hurt anypon...anyone. That's the whole point. I shouldn't have hurt the doggie, I shouldn't hurt anyone ever!"

"That is a wonderful ideal, and I wish everyone - Newman or not - could live up to it. But part of being human is understanding that sometimes it is possible to lose control, or to fall out of balance... to fail to live up to ideals. It's just part of life that sometimes we hurt others even if that isn't something we truly want to ever do. I'm sorry, but that's just... well, human. Do you understand?"

Ivanna didn't exactly nod, but she did seem to calm down, so Lyndsey moved on.

"Moe?" Lyndsey turned to the left and addressed a mousey little man with unkempt hair. Morris Lester was another Newman in the group who had a remaining pony artifact. His hair was not entirely human. It was safely black, and not some bright, impossible color, but it was thick, like a mane, and it ran down his neck all the way to the middle of his back. He didn't have anyone to shave it regularly, so he wore turtleneck sweaters even in hot weather to hide his small unhumanity. The only way he could keep his hair neat was with enormous amounts of hair product, which was more than he could afford.

"Um.. yes?" Moe was a little on the shy side. He was the next youngest Equestrian after Jenna. Sometimes they got together to play. Jenna had an old Playstation, and Moe owned several board games. Both collected toys when they could. They had been denied the childhood that the long-lived Equestrians enjoyed for many decades of their lives.

Lyndsey got up, since Ivanna seemed stable now, and took back her original seat. She picked up her pad and made a quick note. "Last week you told us about the job you were trying for. How did that work out for you?"

Moe, who had been on assistance for over a decade, sighed. "I applied at the toy store, but they said the position was filled. But it's still available online, so... I think they may have... not been telling me the truth." His hesitant speech was combined with a sad look on his face. Even after so many years as humans, so many of the former ponies still had trouble with how humans acted.

"It was your name again, wasn't it." Lyndsey shook her head. Over the years she had become so angry at the naturalization system. The names assigned to the Newmen couldn't be legally changed, because there was a lot of pressure to constantly track and observe them. To much of the public, the very idea of the Newmen was frightening and disturbing. Transformed alien creatures from another universe. A magical, possibly satanic realm of witchcraft and spells. And the people who had given them human names... it had been the cruel hijinx of Ellis Island all over again, only especially mean, considering the unique plight of the Newmen.

"That... and my mane." Moe shrugged. It was an old issue for him. "I've tried getting a buzz-cut, but it grows so fast!"

"I know. I know." Lyndsey made another mark in her notepad. She had hoped that this time things would have worked out. A toy store seemed perfect for the - relatively - childlike former Equestrian. It was such a strange thing, to deal with men and women who looked middle aged but who, from their own perspective, were just children. It was a significant problem with the Newmen, since those who tended to still be alive also tended to have been transformed at very early stages of pony development. The oldest member of the group had just barely passed the age of Equestrian majority before her conversion.

"Well, we're all proud of you for trying. That's the important part - you saw something that you wanted to do, and you made the effort to try. I'm very proud of you, Morris!" Lyndsey clapped, knowing that the other Newmen would join in heartily. Newmen always joined in like that, when the purpose was supporting or encouraging someone.

"Alright then. Who hasn't had a turn to say anything yet?" Lyndsey scanned her list of group members. It had changed recently, with the loss of Poul Shmokar and Harry Balzac, and the addition of...

"Dawn hasn't had a turn!" Jenna waved her hands and pointed at the far corner of the room. "Dawn... Meadow. Dawnmeadow! Because she took her name back!"

Oh yes. 'Dawnmeadow'. Amanda Blow. The oldest member of the group. Amanda had decided, against the law, to go by the translated version of her Equestrian name. Her choice carried no weight, of course, but Dr. Winters had suggested humoring her, at least initially. This was her third week with the group, and so far the only thing Lyndsey had learned about her was that she was a very unhappy woman. Or perhaps mare... because that is what she insisted she was, despite her physical transformation.

"Dawnmeadow!" Lyndsey was very careful to say it as one word. "Has anything happened for you this week that you would like to share with the group?" Lyndsey braced herself, mentally.

"Yes, actually." Dawnmeadow appeared to be in her middle fifties, which would have made her the Equestrian equivalent of twenty-one when she was transformed. She had been a unicorn once. She claimed she still was, that she just 'wore' a monkey suit because there was no other choice.

"This week I grew older. I did a bit of calculation, you see. " Dawnmeadow sat, her arms folded across her chest, leaning against the corner in the back of the room. "The average life span, here in the Yoo-Ess-Aey is eighty-two years. If you are a mare. Stallions don't live as long. We're thirty-fifth in the world rankings for life expectancy, so 'Go Yoosa!'"

Nobody laughed.

"I figured out that each day we spend here is the equivalent of three-and-a-half Equestrian days. So I certainly hope everypony here had a full month of fun and laughter and friendship and magic this past week." Dawnmeadow's lips pressed tight together. "Because I sure didn't."

Lyndsey forced herself not to react. "It isn't always how much time we have, but how we make use of what time is given us. Did you try to have any enjoyable experiences, Dawnmeadow?"

The elder Newman woman glared briefly. "I spent some time, online. I was trying to learn about the last days of Princess Luna, before she... faded. I wanted to know what her last words to us were, maybe to understand the reason we were sent here a little better. Maybe to try to find a way to deal with being like this..." Dawnmeadow indicated her body with a wave of her hand. "...and maybe even a little hope."

Lyndsey regretted her words the second they left her mouth. "And what did you discover?"

Dawnmeadow gave a soft, trembling half smile. "Did you know that there are bills being drafted to prevent Newmen from being able to marry humans? Or that it's legal in most states to deny us housing, jobs and even medicine on religious grounds? I didn't know that. Apparently, by merely existing, we are an abomination before one of this planet's alicorns. An alicorn that nobody ever sees, that nobody can ever hear or touch or visit. But she... sorry, he... sure can write long books. Long, meanspirited, hate-filled books. That's what I learned."

Lyndsey briefly held her forehead with a hand. "Dawnmeadow... I understand... that you are upset. I get that, I really do. But part of group therapy is trying to make an effort to cope, to deal with the world as it is. I know this isn't your world, I know it's tough here. But there are good things too. Ice cream? Pizza? Time spent with friends? Earth may be a savage world in some ways, but we still have friendship here."

"And video games!" Jenna looked over at Moe, who grinned in return.

"Yes." Lyndsey smiled at Jenna. "And video games." She turned back toward Dawnmeadow's corner. "And movies, and television shows, and books and stories and music, too. Even here, on nasty old earth, somehow we all manage to find fun things to do and enjoy. That's really important, Dawnmeadow. Some would say that's the whole point!"

Dawnmeadow sank into herself, folding her arms over her chest again. "It hurts. It hurts here. All the time, it hurts." After a brief pause, she sat up again. "Yeah... I know what I'm supposed to do. Really, I do. I'm supposed to put on a happy face and just accept the hoof that fate has dealt me. Ignore the hate and abuse and meanness. Keep on keepin' on as if none of that stuff even existed. Give up on impossible things and be involved in the real world doing real things.

"Well, you know, I've tried to do that. I've tried to do that for thirty years now, since I was put into this monkey-suit, and while I may look like a monkey, and sometimes my suit makes me act like a monkey... I'm not a monkey. And I never will be. I miss my universe. I miss my princesses. I miss magic, especially the magic of friendship that bound all ponykind together in kindness. I miss walking on my own four hooves in a world where nopony ever needed to be afraid of others.

"But this week, most of all, I miss living in a world without hatred, without groups dedicated to oppression and laws supporting that oppression. I'm tired of false alicorns being an excuse for mindless bigotry and violence. Yeah, I'm upset. Of course I'm upset. I'm upset because I don't see any path that leads to me ever living in the world I belong in. I only see a short run through a world of dangerous apes who think hurting others is moral, or patriotic, or lawful, or right, ever. Therapy that, please. Seriously, I need all the help I can get on this." Dawnmeadow leaned into her corner, and turned her head, aligning it with the wall, struggling to hold back tears.

After a short silence where Lyndsey wrote on her pad, she looked up at Dawnmeadow. "I hear what you have to say, and I don't have any easy solution for you. There isn't an easy answer to any of that. But that isn't the real issue. The world is what it is, and you are here to stay, that is a fact. Your pain is valid, but perhaps it would be helpful to question whether hanging on to it is making the life you must live better or worse. We all grieve, when we are faced with tragedy - that's true for humans and Newmen alike." Lyndsey ran a hand through her hair. "But... even grieving eventually needs to end."

Dawnmeadow snorted, face still against the wall. "Yeah, you tell me how to do that."

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Ivanna hadn't shown up for the next meeting. Or the meeting the week after that. Or ever again. It was in the news - apparently Ivanna had been driven to go admit what she had done to the couple that owned the dog. She had tried to beg them for forgiveness, and had somehow ended up inside their house. Whether she had forced her way in or been invited was in dispute. The man kept a gun collection. He shot Ivanna seven times at point-blank range.

The meeting after the latest round of television coverage was somber.

"They're just going to let him go! I don't understand... he killed her, while she was trying to apologize! I know that can't be right!" Jenna was incredulous, even more than she was outraged and grief-stricken.

"He got off on the Pony Panic defense." Dawnmeadow had started being unusually sociable with the members of the group since the event. "They claim that Newmen inspire xenophobia because they used to be alien monsters, and that somehow means it's natural for men to become irrationally afraid and no longer in control of their behavior. A lot of humans have gotten away with killing Newmen using the Pony Panic defense." Dawnmeadow affected a ridiculous voice "A social advance from an alien creature, especially one with obvious alien characteristics can reasonably induce a panic-based violent psychosis because of the severe anger, humiliation and rage that proximity to such an aberration can produce. Males have traditionally been protectors and warriors, and as such can be reasonably expected to use violent means to react to such an imposition upon normality."

"That's just bullshit. That's complete bullshit." Hugh stared at the tiles between his feet as if somehow his eyes could burn holes through the floor through sheer anger.

"That can't be legal, can it?" Jenna was still unable to process the situation.

"I'm sorry sweety... but it's happened before. It's legal if they say it's legal." Mary felt helpless. She wasn't entirely able to process any of what happened either.

"They kept showing that awful picture of her, from her THING card. They went on and on about her red eyes, like it was evil somehow to have red eyes." Moe was sitting close to Jenna, and had his forehead resting against her back. He was wearing his usual turtleneck to hide the mane down his back, and he had worked extra hard to slick his thick mane hair down flat with what appeared to be several ounces of some thick, greasy substance.

"Milly kept worrying about whether or not the same thing was going to happen to me. She was even more worried that it might happen to her, because she's the grandfoal of a Newman. I didn't know what to tell her. She has a rough enough time of it at school... though this thing has made them finally do something about the bullying and abuse she has to deal with." Jack shook his head. "How am I supposed to comfort her? I can't tell her any of us is safe, because we aren't!"

Lyndsey sat, holding her new pad of paper. She was supposed to be their therapist. She was supposed to help them cope with their lives and the world, but all she felt was loss and anger. One of her group was gone. "I tried to tell her. She wouldn't listen! DAMMIT!"

The outburst shocked the former ponies. "Lyndsey?" Mike had turned pale. Lyndsey never swore at meetings.

"All of you. Listen to me. There is something you can learn from this." Lyndsey was almost shaking. "You are a minority. Get that through your heads. It isn't fair, it isn't right, but you are, and that is how things are. That's not going to change any time soon, no matter how many 'Equestrian Pride' parades there are. You have to act differently than other people. You have to keep your head down a little more. You have to not act like you have all the same rights as other humans, because you don't. You aren't equal, and you have to be the one aware of that, because the world around you doesn't give a fuck." Lyndsey had tears running down her cheeks now.

"Ah... shit." Lyndsey sniffled. "I can't be your therapist today. I'm sorry. I'm just not doing well about this."

Jenna moved carefully away from Moe and half-dragged, half rode her chair over close to Lyndsey. She sat down and put her head over Lyndsey's shoulder, leaning into her. It was a completely, innocently pony thing to do, hugging her like an Equestrian, instead of like a human would.

Lyndsey leaned back, into Jenna. They sat that way for some time, both sniffling a little. Moe and Jack and Mary crowded in, followed by Hugh and Mike. Finally Dawnmeadow shifted and joined the little herd, all nuzzling each other, one big, armless pony hug.

"Maybe you've gone a little pony yourself, from helping us." Jenna softly lipped a lock of Lyndsey's hair. Suddenly, she startled. "Oh! I'm sorry. No offense!"

Lyndsey reached out her arms and pulled Jenna back to rest on her shoulder. "No offense. That would be impossible." A moment passed. "Thank you for the compliment, Jenna. I hope you're right."

That made Jenna faintly smile.

"Maybe... maybe I should... go back to using my human name. For a while. Just to be on the safe side." Dawnmeadow - Amanda - had her eyes shut tight. "Just until... until this... isn't all over the news all the time."

"'The nail that sticks out, gets hammered in.'" Lyndsey intoned. "This sort of thing isn't new, even if Newmen are. Humans have been doing this to each other over smaller differences forever. If it's any consolation, what... happened... isn't something brand new that only happens to Newmen."

"No. No, that doesn't make it better for me." Amanda, Dawnmeadow, sounded exhausted. "It makes it worse. This is normal here, isn't it? Commonplace."

"No, not... not normal. Not commonplace!" Lyndsey thought for a moment. "Um... it does happen, and I guess the whole 'panic' defense pretty much is that such violence is 'normal'. But... that doesn't mean that it really is, or that the law is right. The law is not about right or wrong. The law is about control. Sometimes, a lot of the time, that control is pretty arbitrary. Even if people are told to think that it's a matter of right or wrong. Don't try to judge right and wrong from what is legal or not legal. The two are not the same."

"Sometimes... sometimes I think about what it would have been like if it had been the earth dying, and humans had to escape to Equestria. And become ponies, instead of us having to become humans." Mary snuggled closer into Jenna's back. "If humans had become ponies, I know we would have welcomed you. Nopony would ever... kill... somepony who was trying to apologize. We had all kinds of aliens, even. Dragons and diamond dogs and griffons too! They all came from other universes, just like we did to get to earth."

"Why didn't they accept humanization? I've always wondered." Lyndsey felt warm and safe in the group embrace. Maybe she had turned a little pony from dealing with these extraordinary people for so long.

"The dragons just went away. The humans didn't want them anyway. They were too big, and too scary. Nopony knows where they went. I heard a rumor that they had their own way, but I don't know what it could have been." Mike opened his eyes to note the time, and then closed them again. "Celestia couldn't command them, they were a sovereign people. Maybe they just died with Equestria."

"I heard the dogs did get transformed. They just got sent to another part of the earth. Russia or Korea or somewhere." Hugh lifted his head. "Or was it that down south continent? You know, the one with all the dangerous animals?"

"Australia?" Lyndsey was starting to feel sleepy.

"Maybe. That or the other one. India? I don't remember. Maybe I'm wrong." Hugh sighed. "The griffons couldn't be transformed. It didn't work right on them. They didn't survive, and there wasn't time to find a solution for them. Some tried to fight their way through the Gate, but they needed magic to survive, just like dragons. And us. And there isn't any here. They just faded away. Like... Like..."

"Like Luna." Jenna's voice caught on the name.

"Hey... Dawnmeadow..." Lyndsey began, but she was interrupted.

"Amanda. Amanda fucking Blow. Ha-ha. I'd better get used to it again. So much for trying to be myself."

"A...Amanda." Lyndsey shifted slightly, becoming more awake. "Did you ever find out Luna's last words... before she... faded?"

"Princess Luna. No. It's impossible."

"Impossible?"

"Her last moments are 'classified'. All records sealed until umpty-ump in the future. For 'National Security'." Amanda was angry again. "Apparently, they wouldn't even let any Newmen in at the very last. Only government humans. I guess I'll never know. None of us will ever know."

There was a long silence.

"I bet I can guess though." Amanda sat up and stretched her back. According to the clock, the meeting was already long over. "I bet I can guess her exact words."

"What?" Lyndsey was also disentangling herself, as was the rest of the group.

"Forgive me." Amanda headed for the door, slinging her ratty coat over her shoulders.

The meeting was clearly done for the week.

Transformed Human Identification and Naturalization Guarantee
Identification card list of current group members:

Jenna Taylia
Mike Hockertz
Mary Crizmus
Jack Goff
Hugh Jarse
Moe Lester
Amanda Blow

Former Group Members:

Ivanna Mandic
Poul Shmokar
Harry Balzac
Helda Dick
Ophelia Cumming
Pat Maweini
Tara Holenme
Lucy Bowells
Seymour Cox
Ida Fuqder

Attention: Lyndsey Huxley, Resident Homomorph Therapist, UCM Clearance 8 -

Continue monitoring of Newman refugees. Report any signs of conspiracy, unusual behavior, or latent thaumatic ability to the appropriate Newman Naturalization authorites immediately.