The Conversion Bureau - The End
The Conversion Bureau
The End
A grimdark MLP:FiM fanfic set very loosely in “The Conversion Bureau” universe by Blaze.
WARNING: Grimdark. It may cause rage, impotence, flatulence, cooties and severe depression. Count yourself warned. Go read something else if you don’t like grimdark.
***
“TWO FEET NOT FOUR! NOT A SINGLE INCH MORE!”
“TWO FEET NOT FOUR! NOT A SINGLE INCH MORE!”
The crowd chanted loudly, waving their signs with myriad slogans on them; things like “ponies go home!” and “god hates newfoals!”. Mike was one of them. He booed and yelled with the rest outside the barricaded, blocked and closed doors of the final Conversion Bureau in his home city-state. The windows, which had once been pristine and clear as diamond, were now scuffed, cracked in places. He glared inside, the damned ponies were doing it to the last human. It didn’t take long. He remembered the roaring cheering crowds of a few years past as the ‘newfoals’ stepped out of the ponification stations, unsteady on their new hooves and blinking in the sunlight.
He had stood there as his job was taken from him along with co-workers and friends - the damned ponies caused it all, the economy was in ruins - and he had finally stood up and said no.
He had taken his family, made a solemn vow, they would never listen to this false hope and the lies of those damned pony-folk. Michael, his wife Lucie, their two kids brought up in the ways of God, named Adam and Eve - they were so blessed. In a way he felt triumphant despite their hardships, these were surely the last days of the old order, the righteous would stand anew in a world shorn of the poisonous entreaties of these false prophets.
The roar of the crowd grew in intensity as the last human came clopping out inside, looking forlorn and sad. Mike was sure he regretted losing his humanity, becoming just an animal, but it was too late for him now. They had him. Rotten fruit, bottles, sticks - any weapon the mob could get their hands on were used to either throw at or hammer on the windows. He fingered the gun in his pocket - it would never go through the glass, but if they stepped outside, he’d be able to remove at least one of them, maybe more.
“Hands not hooves! Hands not hooves!” went up the cry, louder as inside a light blue unicorn stepped up carefully to the door before lowering her horn as if to charge. With a flash of light a new banner appeared that read, before it was ripped down and set on fire, simply “Closed”
“We’ve won!” went up a cheer, and the violence and hatred towards the child-stealing four-legged monsters redoubled. The ponies in the building with their new charge didn’t even try to exit the building this time. They just teleported away.
Mike listened to the activity online via his spinal implant - all across the planet, the “humans first” crowd were squirting celebratory, congratulatory and other confirmative messages that the Conversion Bureaus, every single last one, were shutting down. The ponies were going or gone. This was a grand day! He felt like calling his wife and kids, they’d be home - Lucie had recently lost her job as a chemist too after AI constructs took over.
He frowned when he tried and got a busy signal. Busy was...not possible. No, he checked, network busy. He was still trying to urge his implant to reconnect when there was a prickling sensation across his skin and the sky lit up. He looked up in horror at the face of the beast, Celestia herself appeared to crowds of horrified, amazed human onlookers the world over.
“People of Earth, humans, friends - I wish to take this chance to speak to you one last time. Our age upon this planet draws to a close, we retreat to our own realm, our task finished. We relieve you of the burden of overpopulation, taking those humans with us who wish to join our carefree society as ponies like myself.”
“Boo! Monster! Soul Stealer!” Mike found himself shouting, spitting, yelling and throwing debris at the image in impotent rage. Unsurprisingly the image never flinched, never even acknowledged his existence.
“We came in peace. We leave in peace. Thanks to your generous gift - for nopony can be forced to join Equestria - we are now plentiful enough, joyful enough, powerful enough, to go our separate ways. We go now, we will leave your reality to it’s own special future. Whatever you make of it, free beings, have our blessing. As we go though, know this, we love you all and offer nothing but friendship. We always did, and to cement that friendship though we will never again cross paths, I offer one last opportunity to accept our gifts. As we move beyond this realm, for a few moments, each and every one of you upon the face of the planet may choose. The Conversion Bureaus stand empty, but for those who never made the journey, never fear, for we come to you.”
Then the prickling inflamed his skin, and his vision clouded. Unused to life without his implants, using what was left of his standard vision was almost painful, but the sight that greeted him was beautiful, a paradise. Waving grass, blue skies, free of the pollution and grime, free of the degradation and ruins, free of the slogans and graffiti. Pure, natural.
“No, No, I will not...I refuse!” he found himself saying, falling to his knees. He had strength. He had The Book, it had told him such would happen, temptation! Lies!
His family appeared in front of him, bewildered. Whatever this magic was that the ponies wielded, it was strong and seductive, but they would...he would...
“Oh Mike,” said Lucie, “I...I never dreamed it could be like this! It’s...beautiful! It’s heaven!”
“Oh Lucie, no! No! Not you too...fight it, fight this...this disease! Stay human! In His Image we were created, this seductive, evil, wicked, sinful vision must be resisted!”
“But Dad,” said his kids together, already the transformation overtaking them, “this is wonderful! It’s ace!”
“I can fly!” said Adam, swooping in joy, no longer the auburn-haired, brown-eyed cheeky boy he should be, but a perversion of flesh made solid. He had become a pegasus. His beautiful daughter, ruined forever by the evil brush of the sun tyrant, was now a cream-coloured unicorn. His wife...he wept, his dear wife was a unicorn too. He turned from them, hot tears in his eyes, “go! Go and take your heathen ways with you. Traitors! You traitors! You,” he spat, eyes flashing, tearing his hair and clothes as the seductive song of the pegasus form sung to him too, of carefree days in the sun, flitting about in the clouds, nature in all its glory just for him, “I can’t. It’s wrong. The book says so. We...we’re made in his image.”
“Dad...no...”
“Mike, please, ple-”
The vision started to fade, and the image of Celestia looked both joyful and sad, “dear human friends, those who joined Equestria will sing of you for the rest of their days. We go now, our realm is complete, our hearts full. We leave you one, final, gift. From our time upon your plane, the land you called Equestria now stands vacant, pristine. It is my gift to you, it is a mere shadow of its former glory but it will sustain you and your kind for aeons if treated correctly. With my blessings upon you, we depart.
Just like that, the prickling sensation, the electronic glitches, the huge image of the tyrant pony overlord disappeared. He sat down on the pavement, finding it hard to believe. He had resisted temptation. He had been found worthy.
Why then...why was his heart so heavy?
The cheers around him rose in volume, the “humans first” groups had won. There were no more ponies. He looked down at the floor, what a cost...he found himself doodling idly, still numb, his internal victory should have been triumphant, what was wrong?
He noted idly the shapes he was drawing. Cutie marks. Celestia, the sun tyrant, he had drawn hers. Then Luna’s, the seducer. Then Twilight’s, the false prophet and evening star...he stared hard at them and his heart sank.
Not the sun, but the son - come once again in a new form, bearing not a flaming sword but a flaming horn.
The seducer, the evening star - no, they were the bringers of light, not the beast and false prophet, their real words hidden behind the falseness he had assumed for them. They hadn’t left the faithful, they’d taken the faithful, those who turned the other cheek, shunned violence, who had let love into their hearts.
“They took the faithful. It’s the rapture...oh god, it’s the rapture - and we were left behind!”
“what was that? He said they took the faithful...but...aren’t we...?” the whispers started, and turned to shouts, and turned to screams, and turned to fighting, breaking of bottles, as those around him realised the ugly truth.
The air-raid sirens wailed, news from the net came in that China had invaded Equestria from the South, Russia from the North and Europe from the West - the land that the Glorious American Empire had decreed was theirs, and was even now set to liberate via the Eastern route. Nobody was sure who had fired the first shot, but the thermonuclear missiles were on their way.
Michael didn’t care.
He had been lied to, they had offered friendship, love, understanding, a simple life - carefree, without sickness, without want - sealed away in Equestria, safe from harm. Thousands, millions, the world over. Spirited away from this world, never to return.
She had come in the sky, and every eye had seen her, even those who sought to pierce her with their weapons, to take her life. She had split the firmament open and revealed her new world, laid bare for them, and those who had seen had accepted her. She had wiped away every tear, made everything as new, the old order...his world, his sick, cold, angry, doomed world, was gone. And he with it.
The old world truly had passed away.
He burst into tears as the crowd became a mob, the mob an army, and the army nothing but a roving pack of animals. The first bright flashes rocked his vision, the blastwaves yet to come. He fingered the gun, no longer in his pocket but against his head. He prayed, for the first and last time, truly, in his life - and he prayed to Celestia. If she didn’t hear him, it wouldn’t matter.
“Our goddess,” he said, sniffing, closing his eyes, “who art in Equestri-”
He pulled the trigger.