The REAL Conversion Bureau
The unicorn levitated gigantic mounds of paper onto the central table in the back room. “Take a look at this, girls,” she said. Her companions gathered around to examine the multitude of stacks of small slips.
“Rut me running!” exclaimed the first pegasus.
“Balls,” whispered the second pegasus.
“Well, I'll be dipped in manticore piss,” drawled the first earth pony, with a tone of disbelief.
“Hyperinflation-era Weimar Republic,” said the second earth pony, thoughtfully. “Maybe I can throw them a 'Congratulations on getting out before it really got ugly' party.”
“You see the problem,” stated the off-white unicorn, using a hoof to brush a stray curl of her violet mane back into place. “We all knew there was a possibility that something like this could happen, but this is unprecedented.”
The rainbow-maned first pegasus looked at her slyly. “It's 'the worst possible thing', isn't it?”
“Don't be ridiculous, dear. But it's certainly more paperwork.”
Not long ago, such a conversation would have been complete nonsense to everypony involved. But situations had changed rapidly – and ponies had adapted readily – due to the influence of something... unique. By now, even though nopony knew what had created it, everypony who was sufficiently interested knew (more or less) what it was.
The “it” in question was a turgid tube of space-time, gentle and yielding at the surface, but inescapable and unforgiving like the event horizon of a black hole just beyond that. One moment, nothing was there; the next moment, it had firmly erected itself out of the underlying quantum fuzziness of the universe. The base, from what observers could grasp of it, was the Earth that the ponies knew; the other end thrusted ceaselessly, heedlessly, through any hole in the multiverse it could find, as if it had a mind of its own. The Chief Researcher of the phenomenon, Princess Twilight Sparkle, had a rather involved, multi-syllabic name for it and could spend hours describing her observations of it. The average Equestrian simply called it “the Throb”, and knew that it somehow brought strangers to their world.
Research had turned up very little so far. The libraries of Canterlot and the Crystal Empire had been scoured, and nothing of any value had been discovered. Celestia and Luna had both undergone hypnosis, but had turned up nothing more than scant memories of theoretical knowledge about this sort of thing. Scholars suggested that answers might be found in the lost unicorn city of Amalthea, but it was, well... lost. After some effort, Discord was located so that his magical knowledge could be consulted; he was found in a meadow, on his back, wearing sunglasses and headphones. He exposed an ear long enough to be asked about the space oddity; in response, he waved a paw at the sky, replaced his headphones with a talon, and said, dreamily, “It all synchs up perfectly.” (The cord from the headphones had been plugged into a wheel of cheese.)
Though the Throb penetrated many dimensions and poked many Earths, the majority of its victims were members of a legendary and nearly-forgotten race known as “humans”. This, of course, caused great consternation among ponies, as the majority of the old stories described humans as rampaging monsters. In response, Princess Celestia had gathered Equestria's finest sociopaths and organized them into a new division of government, the Section for Hostile and Involuntary Transmogrification. Their mission had been to hunt down humans, magically mindfuck them, and turn them into ponies. However, to the dismay of the Section – and especially Catseye, the deranged unicorn who held the position of Head Brainwasher – maybe one human in five hundred was a big enough dick to merit this kind of treatment.
As a result of this revelation, the Section was downsized considerably. The princesses reasoned that adding these greatly disappointed and only semi-stable ponies to their retinues would be the easiest way to keep an eye on them, so most agents were transferred to Government Operations, Noble Alicorn Division. A few could be moved to other positions. Some were placed on extended leave and given therapy. Catseye, the worst of the lot, was locked up, drugged up, and allowed to live in a sick and twisted hallucinatory world of her own devising.
At the same time, other departments were set up to help the newcomers acclimate as easily and painlessly as possible, such as the Housing Bureau, the Employment Bureau, and, most challenging of all, the Conversion Bureau.
Even after repeated fudging of the numbers, judicious rounding up, and “accidently” shifting the decimal place more than once, the best figure they could come up with was four bits. Rarity supplemented this from her own funds and sent the polite German couple on their way with thirty bits in their pockets. It wasn't a huge amount, but they already had train tickets (courtesy of the Relocation Bureau) to Whinnyapolis, where jobs awaited them. The humans had often been shocked by how giving their new hosts were, but once the ponies learned the truth about humans (and discarded the disturbed rantings of Catseye and those like her), there was no question in their minds about the right actions. To do anything less than fully embrace the newcomers would have been unponylike.
Not for the first time, Rarity wondered why it was that all these humans spoke perfect Equestrian when they arrived, especially when there were reports of dozens, maybe even hundreds of human languages. Every time anypony asked Twilight Sparkle to explain, the response was virtually identical: Twilight would say, “See, there's this thing...” before sticking her forehooves under her bangs, complaining of a sudden headache, and running (or sometimes flying) away at top speed.
It was better, then, to wonder about more important things, things that could be answered. Right now, she wanted an answer to why there hadn't been any forewarning about humans arriving from a set of highly unusual economic conditions. Rarity unlocked an unmarked door, locked it behind her, took a set of stairs below ground level, and walked down a long corridor. It was time for another visit to the Preparation Bureau.
Applejack had heard quite enough. It was one thing to come through without any money at all; there were several Equestrian banks happy to give loans to transplants. It was quite another thing to insist that the arts-and-crafts projects in your pockets were valid currency. Cherry Berry had only endured the man's speeches about money and governments. Once Applejack had taken over, he had increased his volume, and expanded his scope to being a “sovereign citizen” (whatever that was), some madness about fringe on flags, and all sorts of bizarre notions.
“Don't you worry, sir. I don't even know what a helicopter is, so I'm pretty sure we don't got any of any color. We sure wouldn't want any of these here concerns to be a bother, so we got somethin' special in mind for you. Flitter? Hey, Flitter? There y'are. Why don't y'all take a stroll over to Room C so we can get this gentleman taken care of? Thanks.”
Cherry Berry turned to stare at her supervisor. “Isn't Room C the permanent teleport link to Cloudsdale?”
Applejack nodded. “Sure is.”
“I didn't know humans could walk on clouds.”
“They can't.”
The light had grown dimmer down the hallway. Behind the door at the end of the hall, in the large, circular chamber, it was very dark indeed. Rarity stepped inside and spoke as if she were trying out a bit of poetry. “Dawn's Eastern Rays of Perfect Yellow?”
After a pause, there was a reply from deeper in the shadows. “You know it's perfectly acceptable to call me 'Derpy'. I don't know how many times I've told you that, Rarity.”
The unicorn stopped in front of the pillow-covered circular platform in the center of the room. A blonde-maned, gray pegasus mare was comfortably sprawled on it. She was using a single hoof to hold down a control that rotated the platform so that she was facing her visitor's direction. It seemed pointless, however, as her eyes were pointed in very different directions from each other, and neither one was looking at Rarity.
Fortunately, Rarity was quite used to this, so she wasn't fazed in the least. “It's just that your given name is... so much more colorful, dear.”
“Of course it is. My mother was a frustrated artist who was overly fond of Whitetail Wood Wonder Weed. I'm told that after I was born, she couldn't stop staring at my mane for hours. That's where the name came from.”
“Well...” Rarity searched for a response.
“And you believe my nickname has an insulting connotation. I, however, don't perceive it as such. But I know you didn't come to me to discuss names. Is this because we have another Roanoke Colony on the way?”
The coin floated in the air in front of Twinkleshine's eye, secure in the grip of her magic. Sure, it was metallic, but it was definitely low-grade stuff; she had decided that a closer examination was in order. She knew a lot of human currency on sight, and this didn't look like any of it. It might be time to check the references once she was done with her thorough once-over. The coin swiveled in her telekinetic grasp and faced the other way.
“Who in the shit-pits of Tartarus is Chuck E. Cheese?”
Pinkie Pie suddenly appeared in Twinkleshine's field of vision, the coin perfectly eclipsing one of her blue eyes. “You've never heard of Chuck E. Cheese?”
“Gaah!” Twinkleshine scrambled backwards. Her magical field vanished. A moment later, when she had collected herself, she looked for the coin on the floor. Instead, she found it resting on the end of Pinkie's snout. “Uh, no. No, Miss Pie, I can't say I've heard of him.”
“Well, that's just sad! I mean, he's only the Prince of Parties!” Twinkleshine's incredibly doubtful stare had Pinkie's mind racing. Twilight gave her this job! It was important! She had to appear professional! She added, “Ee...ya.” Sensing confusion but hearing no objections, she plunged forward. “Yup, Par-teez-ee-ya. Actually, now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense you've never heard of Partiesia; it's a really small place, right on the border between Andorra and Liechtenstein.” This was much better: her unicorn colleague was beginning to lose interest. “Interesting fact: Chuck was the son of Bushnell, who used to rule the Kingdom of Atari. I say 'used to rule' because he abdicated the throne, of course. Once he did, I understand the place turned into a real battlezone.”
Twinkleshine's eyes were beginning to glaze over. Her bored, wandering gaze happened to fall on the coin again, which reminded her of the business at hoof. She rapidly blinked several times and interrupted Pinkie's semi-fabricated history. “So this is valid coinage?”
“Oh, abso-tively! Go ahead and calculate those at four to the American dollar. I personally guarantee their value.”
“I'll do that, thanks!” Twinkleshine magically retrieved the game token and went back to her work.
Pinkie pronked away to continue her rounds, quite pleased with herself. I can't wait for Princess Luna to get the Reinvestment Bureau up and running, she thought. I don't care how weird Twilight says it feels going through a portal. I wanna put those back into circulation myself!
Derpy had been misunderstood for most of her life. Her cutie mark, which almost everypony thought was just a picture of bubbles, was actually a representation of multiple instances of post-singularity inflation arising from the quantum foam; in short, the images on her flank were universes being born. She had acquired her cutie mark after discovering her talent for seeing through the barriers of reality. She could even focus each eye on different portions of the multiverse, and she did this frequently.
She was often regarded as absent-minded; she never let this bother her, reasoning that other ponies might also forget mundane details of daily life if they also had a talent that could potentially allow them to see All of Everything. She was frequently seen as clumsy, but that was merely a side-effect of spending a lot of time looking anywhere but where she was going. (During the Ponyville town hall incident, she honestly had been trying to help, but at the same time, she had also been fascinated by stars collapsing in a universe with a very different gravitational constant.) Some even thought of her as dumb due to certain incidents, like that time she had spent an entire afternoon trying to communicate with townsponies through miming and sign language. But she had been awake for four days straight trying to confirm that the complex organic molecules she was seeing on a young planet were the result of abiogenesis, only to finally discover than an offworld visitor had taken a whiz in the primordial soup; the simple truth was that she had been too angry to speak.
Few ponies knew of her real talent, and even fewer understood it, so she had been spared magical scans and scientific tests for the most part. However, once the activities of the Throb had started – said activities sometimes known as “the Shafting” – she knew it was time to reveal her abilities to Twilight Sparkle, magical know-it-all first class and scientific prodder extraordinaire. As she had suspected, Twilight saw right away how Derpy could be helpful in dealing with immigrants crossing the borders of probability.
The less said about the testing the better, but at least she was being compensated quite well for that, along with the actual use of her unique abilities. Financially speaking, she was more than comfortable, and she thought it might even be time to think about having foals. And then there were the other perks of the job, like being supplied baked goods and other yummy treats on demand during the work day.
Derpy brought both of her eyes back into focus on Here and Now; one was politely trained on Rarity, while the other peered over at the snack table. The brief pause she needed to make her selection, however, was enough time for Rarity to regain her voice.
“Another Roanoke Colony? As in a new instantiation?”
“I don't believe so. Timeline correspondence looks high enough for a merge with Group Three, but it wouldn't hurt to check the math with the princess.”
Rarity's eyes shifted up and to the side as she made a mental note. “I'll have somepony send it over. But I came here for a different reason. What do you know about the Weimar Republic?”
Derpy's eyes both looked at Rarity as she processed the odd question. “Well, depending on the temporal coordinates, it could result in a lot more paperwork.”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me.”
“It's no trouble at all, Princess.”
“You know you don't have to call me that, right? While we may not know each other all that well, we've still known each other almost as long as I've lived in Ponyville.”
“That's true, but... are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure. As far as Ponyville is concerned, I'm still just Twilight.”
“Okay, Twilight.”
“Much better! So have you taken the time to think over my offer? You know we can always use the help of another intelligent pony like you.”
“I have. Taken the time to think, I mean.”
“And?”
“And I'm going to have to say no. Sorry.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Is it okay if I ask why?”
“It's... it's the humans. I know this sounds like something a foal might say, but they creep me out. Their bodies just look... wrong. And bipedal movement? I keep waiting for them to fall over! Plus they smell a little funny. There's so much about them that seems off, you know? I'm polite when I see one on the street, sure, but I really don't think I could deal with them up close on a daily basis.”
“I don't feel that way about them, but I can see how it would factor into your decision. But wait! What if we got you more of a 'back office' position, something where you wouldn't have to work with humans at all?”
“If you can do that, I think I might be able to change my answer.”
“I'm a princess, Lyra; of course I can do that.”
Derpy face-hoofed. “Oh, no. You didn't.”
“We did,” Rarity assured her. “I'm happy to say they were very understanding. A little distant, but polite.”
“I'm sorry, Rarity, I really am. I... well, I got distracted.”
“Again, darling? I don't really know what it is you look at all the time. In fact, I've overheard other ponies, and I don't think any of us really do.”
Derpy's eyes closed and her face took on a dreamy expression. “I've seen things you ponies wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.” Her eyes opened again, and now she almost seemed to be giving her visitor a look of pity. “Rarity, if only you could see what I've seen with my eyes!”
“...'kay.”
“I could go on, but I won't. Instead, let me apologize again. And look on the bright side: you'll know what to do the next time.”
Rarity's muzzle scrunched just the tiniest bit. “Which won't be any time soon, I hope.”
“Um, about that.” Derpy ran a hoof through the back of her mane. “There are arrivals on the way within a week from at least one Zimbabwe, maybe two.”
“Oh. Oh, dear.” Rarity's tone was flat. “I suppose I'd better get together with the girls, go over what we figured out, and get everypony trained on what to do.”
“Wait! Before you go, I also have to apologize for my manners; I should have offered you something sooner. Why don't you take something tasty with you?”
“Oh, no. Thank you, dear, but I couldn't.”
Derpy's love for sharing baked treats was almost as great as her love for the treats themselves. She knew she could get anypony to give in with a little effort. “Oh, go on, have a croissant. They're exceptionally buttery today.”
“It is not!” It was a female voice, but scratchy and somewhat boyish.
“It is too!” This one was an unremarkable male voice.
“Listen, pal! The pony who runs this? She's a princess, and an egghead, and one of my best friends! And she says it's not!”
“Of course it's real!”
“My egghead princess friend has studied over eighty Earths, and not a single one of them has anything called an 'Amero' on it as anything other than a stupid rumor, not even yours. It's not a valid currency!”
“It is too!”
Rainbow Dash face-hoofed. Why couldn't this human listen to reason? “You must be higher than somepony snorting happy powder off the teats of a Las Pegasus hooker on the top floor of the Cirrus Maximus casino hotel. It's not real!”
“If it's not real, how come I was able to buy all these off the internet, huh?”
“He actually has a good point. Oh, Rainbow Dash, I'm so sorry for interrupting. And sir, I'm very sorry that my friend is being so unpleasant right now.” This was undeniably a feminine voice, soft and sweet.
“Uh, well...”
“Fluttershy, what the rut?”
“Why don't we just go discuss this quietly without her? I'm sure we can figure something out. If that's okay with you, I mean.”
“Ah... sure. You're so much nicer than she is. You're kind of cute, too.”
Fluttershy giggled and blushed. “Aww, you're so sweet. Please follow me to one of our conference rooms.”
“He doesn't rate a conference room, Fluttershy! He's nuts!”
“Don't listen to her, Mister Human. Just come with me to Room C.”
Celestia stretched across a huge cushion on the floor of her chambers, reading reports and levitating bites of cake to her mouth. Things had been going pretty well lately: integration was smooth for the most part, productivity was up in all types of business, transmogrification had only been necessary three times in the last month, and the newly-founded farming settlement of Lower Cloudsdale already had some very impressive crop yields. (She didn't know what research Twilight had done to prompt that land-use recommendation, but her former student was to be congratulated nonetheless.)
Best of all, she could hear the wailing from the throne room. Blueblood was ruthlessly, cluelessly handling the affairs of the royal court today, to the collective horror of the wheelers and dealers, back-stabbing snobs, aspiring nobles, and assorted hangers-on. For Celestia, this was both a rare vacation day and an unconventional PR move; by the following morning, everypony would think about how much they took her for granted and remember just how good they had it. (Sure, they could have consulted Luna, but nopony was brave enough to wake her up.)
Alliances were broken, plans were shattered, and schemes were disintegrated. Prominent yet sensible ponies like Twilight's parents were completely unaffected, of course, but busybodies were completely shaken up. She might even “forget” to reverse some of Blueblood's decrees right away, depending on how amusing they were. And it seemed the chefs were trying a new frosting that she found absolutely exquisite. All in all, it was shaping up to be a really good day.
Just as this thought crossed her mind, some green wisps of energy flew into the room and a scroll popped into being just above her inbox. Based on the shade, she could tell it had been from an artificial sending fire rather than dragon-generated. That didn't narrow it down very much as far as who could have sent it. She gripped it in her magic, unrolled it, and brought it over to where she could read it.
“Sombra's sweaty taint!” Celestia exclaimed, spewing cake crumbs everywhere.
She wouldn't want to say so out loud, but humans had been blurring together in Merry May's head for a while now. She knew it wasn't a nice way to think, but it really took an effort to see them as individuals; it was so much easier to lump them into categories – especially the difficult ones. Take the one in front of her, for example: he was almost certainly an example of Difficult Human Category Number One.
Greatly upset over something ponies considered insignificant: check. Accent that sounded vaguely like Applejack: check. Larger than was probably healthy: check. Pale, pinkish hide that he would probably describe as “white” if asked: check. Said hide was becoming more and more red as he continued his tirade, which Merry May had tuned out some time ago. Fortunately, help was arriving in the form of multiple management ponies.
Rainbow Dash zipped in. “All right, buddy, what's the problem?”
“Y'all are commies!” the human barked.
Dash looked as if she had just been asked to do algebra. “What's a commie?”
The human was almost as baffled. “A... a commie! Someone who believes in Communism!”
Applejack stood in the doorway, frowning. “What's Communism?”
This was clearly more than the human was expecting. “People share stuff. They don't buy and sell.”
“My family's farm sells stuff all the time.”
Rarity appeared at her shoulder. “What utter nonsense. If I didn't sell things, I'd have to close my boutique.”
“You don't like sharing? No cookies for you, then.” Pinkie Pie was suddenly behind the human somehow. Appropriately enough, she had a tray of cookies on her back.
Dash spoke up again. “Anyway, what makes you think we're communizees?”
The difficult human held up a bit like an accusation. “It doesn't say 'In God We Trust' on your money.”
Merry May rolled her eyes, as she had already heard this. The other ponies all looked at each other with raised eyebrows, scrunched faces, and the like. Finally, Rarity broke the silence. “And?”
“And y'all are supposed to put God on your money!”
An even longer pause. Rainbow Dash spoke up this time. “Which one?”
“What?”
Pinkie looked up from licking the crumbs off an empty tray. “Nopony gets told what to believe in, silly. There are lots of gods! Like Rhiannon, and Epona, oh, and Ceres, the goddess of grain! You can't have baking without grain!”
“What?”
“I also kinda like Balo the Jester, but that's just me. What about you, Applejack?”
“Uh, well, the Apples follow Rulena the Maker.”
“Makes sense, darling, very traditional family and all. I'm also fond of Rulena... and Inanna, if you must know. Of course, I've also been hoping Bast will help me understand my little Opal better!”
“What?”
“I like a lot of different gods of speed. Hey, wait! What does this have to do with money?”
There was some concern as the catatonic human was wheeled out, but Nurse Redheart said she was optimistic.
There were no events on the official calendar of the palace, yet the ballroom was surprisingly full. In attendance were all four princesses of Equestria: Celestia, Luna, Cadance, and Twilight. All of Twilight's friends were there, and Applejack was there, too. Towards the back there was a shady-looking zebra in a hat, and his servant, a somewhat effeminate pegasus colt named Terry. Derpy had also made the journey from Ponyville to Canterlot. Shining Armor was at the meeting, not as the husband of Cadance or as the brother of Twilight, but in his capacity as the former Captain of the Guard. At the moment, he was talking shop with the new captain, Spiffy Uniform. Nearby was a large, non-uniformed stallion who claimed to be “a type of guard” working directly for Celestia; he was a bruiser of an earth pony named Malice Aforethought. Far off to one side was a unicorn Transmogrifier called Lightning War, but nopony wanted to talk to him.
Celestia flew up to the stage where Pinkie had once rubbed her bum all over innocent and unsuspecting musicians. In mere seconds, she had total silence and everypony's eyes on her. “Thank you all for coming. Now that you're all here, I can reveal the grave news that was but hinted at in the messages that I sent to you all. Or rather, all of you save one.”
Some of the assembled ponies looked around trying to figure out who Celestia had been talking about, but stopped when she continued speaking. “The pony I did not inform was Derpy, faithful servant of the crown and sole member of the Preparation Bureau. It was she who gave me the dire warning that I must now give all of you.”
Derpy looked around and gave a nervous wave to the crowd.
Celestia took a deep breath before starting again. “The Throb will soon deposit another load across the face of Equestria. This one will consist of the worst of the worst, the lowest of the low. I speak, of course, of fanfic writers.”
“Sister, no!”
“Yes, Luna, it's true. A horrendous subset of beings rightly condemned by all literate sapients, and worst of all are the ones who – Sleipnir save us all! – actually think of themselves as 'funny'. I'm sorry to say that we can expect a large gathering -- what's known as a 'convention' -- to descend upon us in no more than twenty days.”
“I hate them!” raged Twilight. “I hate them! I fucking hate them! Especially when they get all meta! 'Oh, look at me and my clever commentary.' Well, no one's impressed, Skippy! Just tell the gods-damned story!”
“I really wish I hadn't read 'Daring Do and the Disembodied Dicks'. I'll never be able to fly fast enough to get away from that.”
“Uncouth beasts, the lot of them.”
“I'd, um, like them all fed to my animals, if that's okay with everypony.”
“What if I loaded my party cannon with confetti made out of metal? That would hurt, right?”
“Beggin' your pardon, Princess, but what are we gonna do?”
“An excellent question, Applejack. I'll actually let my sister answer this one. Luna, do you recall that conflict with the griffins about twelve hundred years back?”
“Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with...”
“Do you remember the choice we gave them? Both sides would stop fighting and sign a peace treaty, or we would do this?”
Luna's eyes widened and darted back and forth. Soon a delirious grin formed on her face. She flew to stand next to her sister on stage.
“The first step, everypony, is to get our hooves on lots and lots of cheese graters...”
Author's Note
This story is a work of fiction. Any character similarities to any actual people or ponies, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
