Letters in a Different Hand
Dear...Myself, whatever I change my name to.
I'm sure you're reading this, remembering vaguely what you wrote, remembering as if your life were a dream before all that's happened to you. I hear the same story from the others who go into those blasted checkpoints, the ones who go in like men, and come out like...ponies.
This is so weird, writing to you. You used to be me. I've yet to hear of anyone complain about the process. It's painless, and other than the new body, nothing inside their heads change. That's what they say at least, and I know a few people who've gone through it already, people who have changed into three foot tall equines.
Yet, for all that they claim to be themselves, the change is unmistakable. They don't act like people anymore. The changed diet is to be expected, of course. After all, you're going from an omnivore to a herbivore. Well, most of us anyway. I've heard tell there's some place you can get turned into other things, from griffons, to buffalo, to even blasted dragons.
I'm not going to seek them out though. I don't know of anyone who's come back from that, and I really don't have enough time anymore. The magic in the air, it feels electrifying now. It's like a constant static electric charge. But I've seen what happens to those who are too close to this sort of thing for too long.
You either die, your body burning itself out by taking in too much at a time, or worse, you turn into some megalomaniac monster who has to be stopped while declaring themselves ruler of the world. I've seen those too, and they frighten me. No, I have to do this now. But that frightens me too.
Jill, now Heart Warmer, suggested this. That I write a letter to myself. That I remind me of who I used to be. She seems herself, mostly, even if she does try to get a bit too friendly with everyone now. She was an extrovert before, however, and I can see her finding that new form as a bit of freedom, so I don't want to ask her the question that I think every time we talk.
Are you still you anymore? Am I still me anymore? The you, reading this. Do you remember high school? Do you remember those days playing DnD in the library with our friends? We would go on make believe adventures. We slayed dragons(Well, they tended to slay the other guys, but we at least survived by running away), and we told epic tales of heroics.
Do you remember losing family to old age? Do you remember the scares with mom, until those final days? Do you remember dad crying into your shoulder? Do you remember the scent of Victoria's hair as you cry into her's? These are the things I'm afraid of losing, the things that make me me. So I'll leave these memories here, so they aren't lost.
You know, it's funny. This whole thing with the Bureau is kind of like an old Outer Limits episode I watched as a kid. In that, the sun was turning blue, but they didn't realize it, and music from a distant star was being sent out to change us humans into a form that could take the new light. I'd almost completely forgotten about it, until that day.
Equestria, land of magic and ponies appeared in the middle of the ocean. It was nobodies fault, they all said. Rumors flew, of course, about secret teleportation experiments, I even heard someone mention that ship from the Philadelphia experiment, the Eldridge.
Others cried invasion, saying the ponies came to conquer us, that they had done so many times. Yet, anyone who saw the videos of them adapting to a life with low magic, as their power waned, could tell you that was a lie. No, this was some accident, plain and simple. Someone, somewhere, had misplaced a zero and a one, be they god, man, or pony, and we were forced to pick up the pieces.
Then the magic started coming back. First a little at a time, simple unicorn spells worked, pegasi could fly again, and earth ponies could raise crops by just stamping their hooves. Then it got stronger, and we saw the first human die, and the first one change into an magical magnet. We had to adapt or die. That's how the world works sometimes. So we adapted.
The Conversion Process, developed by humans, but maintained by Ponies, was a way to survive. It was small scale at first, but now whole cities, countries, and even continents are changing. It's supposed to be reversible, if the magic ever fades, yet almost all who undergo the treatment say they're happier like as they are now than they ever were in their old lives.
The Resistance doesn't trust them though. Even if they Process was made by humans, it seems too good to be true. It could have been some kind of mind control suggestion or something. Or maybe the ponies corrupted it somehow, and are manipulating all of us, into becoming more of them.
I don't know the answer to any of these questions. I don't even know what the questions are. I just know that if I want to survive the next week, I have to change. Here's hoping whoever I turn into remembers these things, and know who they were, and who they want to be in the future.
With all wishes for long live,
Your Human Self
Letters in a Different Hand
Dear Human Self,
Cinnamon. Her hair, it smelled like cinnamon on that day. It's hard to recall the other details. We didn't do so well then, did we? Heh, Sis was always better at handling that sort of thing. We always tried to act so aloof, like we didn't care, but in the end, it hit us hard.
If your curious, I decided to indeed change my name. For some reason, these mouths, longer and broader than our human one, don't form the syllables correctly for those old names. Or maybe it's the brain, maybe it tries to disconnect itself from that old life, to find something new.
I'm calling myself, Silver Circuit now. If you're curious, we kept our old job, and it's a lot easier now. We scored the jackpot, wings and a horn, an alicorn form. Some are already saying we did something messed up, and Jil...Heart Warmer says it's a sign, that we were meant for great things. I don't know about that, I want to build things, I'm an engineer now and forever, now I can just control a dozen tools at once while hovering over the project.
I'm building a defense turret now. The Conversion Bureau we went to for our change...it was attacked. While we were getting done. They think that's why it happened, but they aren't complaining. Alicorns are rare. Not as rare as they were in Old Equestria, but still, one in a million.
The woman helping us into our chamber. She was a nice mare, a unicorn. She was so bright, full of smiles, full of laughter. She told jokes, and talked about mind control and stuff. She was so sweet, like an aunt or something, and assured us there was nothing to worry about.
Then they came in. They were armed and armored. That black, anti magic crap that sometimes works to keep us humans from burning out or going nuts. She told them they weren't allowed in the room during the change. She was worried about them, saying that even the armor wouldn't protect them. The last thing we saw was her getting shot, and then she fell back on the control panel.
Next thing I know, it's all light. Not blinding, not hot, but warm and comforting. Yet it had an anger to it. When it passed, I was in this body. Silver fur covering it, a golden silky mane, and my wings and horn. The Resistance members were dead by the time I came too.
Was it the magic from my change over? They say that mare pushed the button for the Conversion in her last seconds, and that the magic from the process is what did them in. But I don't know if I believe that. I remember that rage I felt. I wanted them dead, and I'm scared, terrified in fact, that I let my first act as a pony be murder.
We'll never know, of course, but I'm going to make sure this never happens again. I'm helping build and design better defenses for the Conversion Points. That will keep those idiots out. I try to make them non-lethal, non-threatening, just knock the morons out. But every time I do, I can hear her laughter, and I want to put something in my designs that's deadly.
Celestia, the god queen herself, says it's normal. She says I have a lot of magic, and more than that, I have a duty to lead now, to serve as an example to everypony. I don't know how to feel about that either. But still, the tea she gave me was nice, once I figured out how to lift the cup with magic.
I don't know what else to tell you, me. I don't feel different. The Magic of Friendship is maybe there. The world is a bit brighter, and I feel happier sometimes. Yet, I can't help but remember who I was, who I wanted to be, and her face. I don't even remember her name anymore, but I remember that face.
So, I'm going to keep going. I'm not human anymore, but I'm not what I feared I'd be either. I know there are those out there who reject what I've become, and for them, I'm doing my best. I'm helping to design an antimagic dome for those sorts to live in. Maybe, after that's done, there will be no reason for the killing?
Whatever happens in the future, I only know one thing. I'm glad I wrote that letter to myself. And I'm glad Jill made me read it. She said it would help, and she was right. Now I know I'm still me, and I'm not going to change that now. I'm going to build a better world, for ponies, humans, and anyone else who wants to live in peace.
Sincerely,
Silver Circuit
