27 Ounces

by Chatoyance

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Romance, Princess Luna, Original Character, Science Fiction, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Human
Length: 78041

27 Ounces is the story of eight and one half ponies, set within the Conversion Bureau universe.

The pocket universe of Equestria expands in the North Pacific of a dying future earth. Celestia offers escape to a better life - but survival has a price. 27 Ounces follows the dramatic transformations that arise from one single container of Ponification Serum.

♥ As Featured On Equestria Daily!

Published 2011-10-30 01:54:30 UTC
Last updated 2011-11-14 11:59:36 UTC

The Red Case

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter One: The Red Case

Dr. Roselyn Pastern could just make out the shining curvature of the Barrier, and she thought to herself that it looked like nothing so much as one of those gigantic, impossible moons that rise over illustrations for science fiction media. The howling wind from the hurricane had cleared the thick, bitter smog from the entire Bay Area, and this is what made seeing Equestria possible at all.

Hurricane Misha had been brought under control before it could reach land, it had involved something about fuel-air devices, or maybe they were tactical nukes - Dr. Pastern really couldn't remember, and frankly didn't care that much. It was sufficient that the sky was clear enough now that she could see the enormous, shimmering bubble, rising up above the curvature of the Earth. Two and a half years since it had first appeared, the great Barrier was constantly, if slowly, expanding and had touched the edge of space itself. The shield that bounded Equestria was hundreds of miles in diameter, perfectly spherical, and utterly impenetrable except to Equestrians alone. The orbits of satellites had needed to be adjusted to accommodate this new fixture upon the planet.

Dr. Pastern finished her morning coffee, and turned away from the railing. In an hour it would be 8:00, and the doors would be unlocked. It was another day at the Conversion Bureau of San Francisco, located in the Westcorp Presidio Complex, just off the Lombard Maglev, in what remained of the AppleSoft campus, which once, long ago, had been a building called the Palace Of Fine Arts.

The Presidio Complex was mostly empty now, with no industry or business to support it. In the ruins of San Francisco, a vast favela - more than a mere slum, but less than a true city - had risen up, sheet metal and plascrete shacks stacked atop one another, somehow managing to shelter nearly two and a half million people. They were kept alive thanks to the power of nanotechnology; their daily corporate government ration of food and water supplied by the molecular reconstruction of human waste.

The stairs down from the vast roof were long and winding, and several times Roselyn had to step over and around parts of the structure that had collapsed, filling the corridors. The gigantic, ancient AppleSoft building was considered structurally sound, or so she had been told, but the fallen beams suggested another point of view. Dr. Pastern at last entered the lobby of her clinic, just in time to see two armed agents, guarded by four blackmesh armored troopers, make an expected delivery.

An armored red case sat on the admissions counter. Bulky and built to survive bullets and bombs, the case first needed to be unchained from the wrist of one of the agents. Dr. Pastern signed the several electronic forms and handling contracts, finally placing her thumb on the digital pad offered her, and then allowing the same device to scan her retina.

"All yours! Have a good day!" said the taller Bureau agent. The troopers grunted and followed the agents back out to the dark, armored transport they always arrived in. Dr. Pastern set her coffee cup down and gave the case a short, fast drum roll with her hands.

"Not bad, Doc - I think I almost heard some rhythm there." Bethany, the receptionist at the counter, had been with the clinic since it had opened, just under six months ago. "Maybe I should finally go Pony today, whatcha' think?" Beth said this every time a red case was delivered; she had yet to actually seem serious. "It'd certainly take care of these things - they're acting up like crazy today!" Beth suffered from multiple advanced verrucous carcinomas of her temporal bones. Like most people in the world, her various cancers were kept in stasis. It was trivial to halt cancer, but very expensive to have it cured.

Almost every human being had some form of malignancy, this was normal. Thus every human being regularly took some variant of Malignostat. The nanotech derived treatment was ubiquitous and sold from vending machines pretty much everywhere. Popping a 'stat was a fundamental part of getting up in the morning. It kept all cancer in check, and was a gigantic moneymaker. Some considered Malignostat to be a universal tax on the whole of Mankind. Being cured, however, was a dubious proposition. It was inevitable that some new cancer would appear soon after, so the only real reason to bother with such an impossible expense was in conjunction with cosmetic surgery to repair disfigurement, itself incredibly costly.

Beth rubbed the ruddy, lumpen bulges on the left side of her neck and head. "They really itch today, Doc."

Dr. Pastern swung the bright red case around, so that the handle faced her "Then come along, Beth! You can be my first ponification of the day! Equestrians never get tumors. They never get sick, as far as we know. Trade in that damaged old flesh for a fresh set of hooves! Whattaya say?" Pastern leaned over and leered at the receptionist. She knew full well that as much as Beth talked about Conversion, she loved complaining more.

"Maybe, one day I'll up and do that..." Beth began busily using her holotouch, entering application updates "... but maybe I'll keep these fingers a little while longer."

Roselyn Pastern dragged the heavy, armored case off the counter and grunted under the weight. "Sooner or later, you'll be mine!"

"Sure. Any day now." replied Bethany.

Dr. Pastern made a whinnying sound as she marched off down the corridor leading to the Conversion Room. Beth harrumphed in return.

Once in her sanctum, the 'Pony Room' as she liked to call it, Roselyn set the heavy red case down on a stainless steel platform. She entered her unique code upon the active surface near the handle, and the case politely unlocked itself.

Roselyn struggled carefully to work the cover away from the body of the case, finally revealing the most valuable thing in the building - her life included.

Tenderly packed inside dark gray, shock-resistant foam, was a single, large, capped Erlenmeyer flask. The flask was graduated and labeled with an iconic representation of the Equestrian form, and assorted text was printed on the flask describing its contents.

Inside the flask swirled a translucent, viscous, shimmering purple fluid. It almost seemed carbonated, but it was not; the apparent 'bubbles' were actually microscopic metallic reflections and tiny bursts of supernal light. It was a nanofluid, of course, composed of trillions of tiny molecular machines that could break down and reconstruct matter.

But the purple fluid was far more; infused throughout it was the very stuff of 'magic', a strange, unearthly energy from an entirely alien cosmos, the emerging universe that was Equestria. Inside that eight hundred mile sphere embedded in the Pacific, a different set of physical laws operated. Somehow, those laws had been melded with earthly technology, creating a hybrid of two universes, thus nanotechnomagical plasm, a blood bond between Equestria, and Earth.

Some called it Ponification Transmogrification Serum, or more simply 'Potion'. And it effectively was a magic potion, a notion that still made Dr. Pastern feel giddy inside. But then, so many things of legend and magic had been made real through technology, one way or another, so why couldn't there exist a substance that for all intents was a true elixir?

The power of the serum was formidable. Applied to even the most severely damaged human, the result would be a total and complete regeneration of every part. Lost eyes would reform, lost limbs bud and regrow out, destroyed internal organs would be entirely replaced. Even if an entire head should be lost, as long as the cells of the body had not yet suffered apoptosis, the subject would live - though in that event, the patient would be devoid of all memory, equivalent to a newly born baby.

Or, more precisely, a foal. For all the regenerative miracles that the serum could perform, the end result was always the same; a human subject became a full-blooded Equestrian. The price of life and survival was humanity itself.

It took three full ounces to accomplish Conversion; though there had been rumors of successful Conversions using only two, Pastern did not believe them. A failed Conversion was a horrific event; the two violently dissimilar biologies, Equestrian and Human, could not coexist within the same body. Death came in a screaming, writhing agony of battling morphology. It was utterly advisable to use the extra ounce.

The flask held twenty-seven ounces, 798 milliliters (and spare change), which meant that one Erlenmeyer could transform nine human beings to Equestrian form. Every three days, the San Francisco Bureau was sent one red case per clinic, and nine more humans would cease being human. One thousand and ninety-five humans a year, three per day, with no days off. There were one hundred clinics total within the gigantic San Francisco Conversion Bureau building, scattered all over the AppleSoft campus, each makeshift clinic identical in purpose to the one that Dr. Pastern worked in.

The rush was on. The rush to save what could be saved of the human race.

Roselyn gave the flask a gentle swirl. It sparkled in the light. Then she put the flask carefully back into the padding. It wasn't wise to hold the actual Erlenmeyer for too long; it generated considerable amounts of thaumatic radiation, and distance from source was an issue. That said, Roselyn knew she was being contaminated every day just being around the material, and if her exposure continued long enough, "Mage Plague" would eventually kill her. 'Magic', it appeared, was inimical to human life. There was only one available treatment; Conversion. Equestrians were more than immune to thaumatic radiation - they thrived on it.

Dr. Pastern set about her morning routine. She filled out the required hypernet forms, set out the vials of anesthetic, each grouped according to allergen sub-type, and put on her clean, white lab-coat. The lab-coat wasn't actually necessary, but Roselyn thought it added a certain professional esthetic to the proceedings. Also, she frankly didn't want to get anything on her new pants. Pants were expensive.

It was eight. By now the rest of the staff at her clinic - number fourty-two of one hundred - were busy making breakfast for the applicants. Applicants for Conversion stayed in the clinic for around two weeks, sleeping on-site in simple barracks. This was so that they could be given a proper, full orientation. Applicants were shown media, given lectures, and engaged in specialized physical exercises and training to prepare them for their new lives.

Each day, three applicants, having served their two week orientation, would be called into the Conversion Room, and transformed. When they awakened in their new bodies, they returned to the barracks for final orientation, before choosing to trot out the door, or report for transfer to Equestria. Most simply went out the door. Almost half of the population of San Francisco was now ponies. Soon it would be the entire population.

And that was the plan. Thaumatic radiation killed humans, and the great shining, growing bubble that was Equestria broadcast the stuff all over the planet. It pooled in random locations, creating deadly traps. It flowed in invisible channels creating corridors of lethal exposure. Above all, it increased with time, growing as Equestria itself grew, and nothing could block it, nothing could stop it, and there was no way to even detect it, except by the effect it had on human flesh.

It started with distortions of perception. The subject saw colors as being brighter, smells more intense. Mentation gradually became affected, with some reporting visions or hallucinations. Then patches of skin began to die, leaving necrotic scars. Finally, the organs of the body began to fail, as more substantial tissues perished. Death followed, unless the exposure was ended, or Conversion was offered.

Nothing could stop the emergence of Equestria. Not even all the weaponry of the world corporation; they had made the dead Pacific boil for three whole days, and seethe for weeks after to no effect.

In the end, there was simply no other choice. The earth was already dying, Equestria offered at least a form of survival, for those that wanted it. And after the shining monarch Celestia offered refuge to any who wished to Convert, virtually every single human craved her salvation.

Where the earth was a blackened, burned ruin of extinct forests, dead, radioactive oceans, a universal sky of dark grey smog, and nineteen billion people scrabbling in the endless slum that covered every landmass, Equestria shone brightly as a verdant paradise of blue skies and endless fields of living flowers. Beyond that impenetrable, shining Barrier lay a perfect land bursting with life and opportunity, but the only way to cross that barrier was on four legs.

A short, brutal life of desperation, poverty, and filth as a human, or a healthy, abundant life of running through green fields as a party-colored equinoid? The choice for most human beings was no choice at all. Even so, there were some, people of means and power, that found the Equestrian option a blasphemy against Mankind, and to them any means was legitimate. Clinics had been bombed, entire Bureaus vaporized. It was a risk that every Bureau faced.

Dr. Pastern set out three simple, white, plastic cups. She checked today's list of applicants. The first was listed for ponification at ten o'clock. The morning transformation was everyone's favorite part of the day, at almost every Bureau. The applicants loved to cheer the first Conversion of the day, and the ritual of the First Meal As A Pony seemed a universal lunchtime spectacle. No one ever seemed to tire of asking the new Convert what hay and alfalfa tasted like to them now that they were Equestrian. The lure of the strange, Pastern guessed.

Dr. Pastern sent a message to Dispatch, and soon, over the clinic loudspeakers, would come the name of this mornings first Conversion.

Roselyn wished she had time enough for a second coffee.

A Cup Of Contrition

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Two: A Cup Of Contrition

When Carmine Rosalita Guadalupe Vasquez had first entered Bureau clinic 042, Bethany the receptionist couldn't help but feel affection toward her. She was almost painfully shy, her voice that of a softspoken little girl even though she was clearly in her twenties, and she was easily the most polite applicant Beth had ever seen.

Carmine needed help filling out her application, but Beth was happy to assist - like nearly everyone in the North American Zone, she was at least familiar with enough Spanish to get by. Carmine was given a room to share with another applicant, shown to her cot, provided blankets and a pillow, and given a tour of the facility. She showed great hesitation when Dr. Pastern performed the basic allergen scan and entrance physical - but aside from a few anomalous tattoos that contrasted with her demure personality, she was remarkably intact.

Pastern had noted some scars, one from what must have been a lateral incision to the sternum with possible pneumothorax. The injury had not been stitched by a professional, but it had fully healed, albeit with some keloid development. Roselyn felt sad that this shy girl had been slashed with a knife in her youth, but then again, such injuries were not uncommon in the planetary favela.

"It looks like you had a pretty difficult time before you came to see us, Ms. Vasquez" Dr. Pastern palpitated the dark keloid that had developed from the scar.

Carmine had her eyes closed and kept lowering her head as if in shame. "Life is difficult everywhere, Dr. Pastern." Carmine's voice was soft and almost squeaked.

"Well, all of these scars - and the tats as well - will all vanish after Conversion. You'll have a fresh new body, with no injuries, no disease, no scars, just perfect and healthy. I've seen applicants come in missing limbs, and they just grew back." Dr. Pastern turned and carefully removed her gloves. "OK, we're done here. You can put your clothes back on."

"Doctor..?" If the room had not been so quiet, it would have been hard to even hear her question.

"Yes, Ms. Vasquez?" Dr. Pastern had finished disposing of her examination gloves.

"Why... if everything is fixed by the Conversion... why do you bother to give us examinations?" The girl looked up at Roselyn, peeking through her long, dark hair.

"I'm required to look for implants and enhancements. Ponification rejects technological devices, and there can be complications if an applicant has a replacement organ or valve. Also, the HLF is out there, and there have been a few cases of Bureaus being destroyed by false applicants who had explosives installed inside their bodies."

"H-L-F?" Carmine had apparently never heard of them.

"Human Liberation Front. They believe that Conversion is wrong, and they will do anything to stop it. They think it is better to die as a human, rather than live as an Equestrian. I think they also imagine they can find a way to stop the expansion of Equestria, even when the world corporation could not. But try not to worry - we have pretty good security here, despite things not being very fancy."

"I am not an HLF!" Carmine sounded like a little girl afraid of being misunderstood.

"I never thought you were!" Dr. Pastern gave Carmine a reassuring smile "I'm just doing my job. It's all part of procedure. You're fine, and I didn't find any implants, so there's no issues there, either."

"What if you find implants?" Carmine was putting her blouse back on.

"If they're small, we leave them. They just pop right out during Conversion. But with large implants, sometimes it's recommended to remove them, just to be safe. I personally haven't seen any problems even if they are left in, but it's in the Bureau guidelines. Conversion pretty much takes care of everything all by itself. Implants just break down, if they aren't excreted during ponification. But... we do our best to follow the guidelines."

"Thank you, Dr. Pastern."

Roselyn gave the girl another quick smile. "You're welcome, Carmine. I'm sure you'll make a fine pony."

Carmine Vasquez settled in quickly at Clinic 42. She always had a smile or a cheery word to offer, and everyone, both staff and applicants, liked her. One event, early on, demonstrated her helpful nature. It happened at the unique Bureau ritual that was The First Meal As A Pony.

He had picked out his 'pony name' before he had even entered the Bureau. His human name was known only to Bethany and Dr. Pastern, he had asked for that courtesy. Thus it was that the tall, muscular black youth, 19 years old, scarred from countless fights in the streets, missing one eye, three fingers, and half his teeth, was known from his entrance simply as 'Silverbell'.

Silverbell wouldn't explain his choice of name, except to say that it meant something to him. Despite his fearsome appearance, Silverbell was soft spoken, and astonishing well read. He was intensely well mannered, and was well liked from the moment he joined the applicants. It was uncommon for most people to know much more than what might be gleaned from a corporate holokiosk; in a world of zero opportunity, no jobs, and horrific overcrowding, education was thoroughly understood as a luxury only for the elite. But Silverbell was different.

The young man would often quote Shakespeare, he had memorized several plays. He fancied himself a street actor, and on the night before his Conversion, drew almost everyone in the clinic to his room. Excited by his tranformation in the morning, he had begun dramatically reciting poems to entertain his barely adolescent roommate, Joshua. The performance was loud and grand, and soon a number of applicants stood outside the door to listen, followed by the clinic staff. All were entranced by Silverbell's on-the-fly, heavily modified version of the bard's 'A Fairy Song'.

"Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale,Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere, Swifter than good Luna's sphere; And I serve the Fairy Queen, Whose name, Celestia, doth warm my heart!" Silverbell was standing in the center of the small room, between the two cots provided, with fifteen year-old Josh staring up at him from the leftmost bed. Outside the door, applicants and staff crowded around, entranced by the power of the unexpected recitation.

'Silverbell' was in fine form, his long arms wide in gesture, the light flicking off of his handmade eyepatch, his voice deep and mellifluous. "To dew her orbs upon the green; Four cowslips tall her ponified be; In their cutie marks you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours; In those symbols live their savours; I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every pony's ear." Silverbell made a grand bow, met by furious clapping.

"Hey, everybody! It's gay pirate pony poetry night!" Josh giggled loudly at his own joke.

The motion was both instant and swift. Joshua's neck was pinned to the wall, high above the cot, by an incredibly strong hand. His trachea gurgled as he tried to breath. Blood sprayed with each gasp from what remained of his front teeth. Like falling kernels of corn, several incisors and at least one canine dropped down Joshua's sweater, to fall onto his knees, or into the wrinkled folds of his blankets. In front of Joshua's face a dark, gleaming fist, knuckles scarred, hung in space.

For several seconds there was no sound, the clinic frozen in time.

Silverbell let go of Josh. The boy sank to the cot, still not sure what had just happened. He unconsciously spat a dangling tooth out, as he would an wayward insect.

"Please excuse me." Said Silverbell in a quiet, utterly emotionless voice. He sat down on his own cot, body rigid, head down. His hands lay at his side, open, palms down.

Josh was rushed to the infirmary, down the same corridor as the Conversion Room, but just prior and to the left. Dr. Pastern applied her more conventional medical skills to the situation. She briefly considered having the missing teeth recovered for re-implantation, but dismissed the notion. There was no point. Joshua was scheduled for Conversion in only two days; he would have a completely new mouth full of strong healthy teeth immediately after.

When Josh had been treated, he needed to be assigned a new place to sleep. Bethany attended to that matter while Dr. Pastern went to have a talk with Silverbell.

The man had not moved since the incident, sitting on his cot, his head still down. Roselyn shooed the frightened, shocked crowd of applicants away from the room, entered, and sat down on the other cot, facing Silverbell.

"They say Conversion cures all earthly ills. Is that true, wise physician? Silverbell spoke without looking up.

"As far as all available research can demonstrate." Pastern was unsure what else to say.

"It cures the mind and salves the heart, this is also what they say."

Dr. Pastern understood. "'Conversion's glory is to calm contending kings'"

Silverbell looked up at that. "Not bad, doctor, not bad at all."

"I have never seen a newfoal display even the tiniest violent tendency, Silverbell. Conversion seems to take all human aggression away forever. In its place is a peace and a joy that... I envy very much." Roselyn could not relax, but she did feel that the situation was stable.

"So, why is it that the good doctor has not joined the noble equine race, then?" A faint smile played on Silverbell's lips.

"For now, at least, it is my job to ferry others across the Styx. But someday, someday we all must. There are days I just think, to hell with it, and I seriously consider making the next dose my own. I'm too responsible, I guess."

"Shall I still be so ferried, in the morning then, Dr. Charon?" Silverbell's face had become a mask, it was impossible to read it.

"If you like, we could do you right now." Immediate Conversion would put everyone's nerves at ease.

"The morning will do, if you please." Silverbell stared at her with his single eye, his face still a mask. Pastern felt a chill in her spine. Behind that eye she felt no human pity, and no human compassion, and she realized just how good an actor Silverbell truly was.

The next morning, Silverbell was Converted on schedule, and into the lunchtime cafeteria area stumbled a sky-blue, earth pony. But the usual cheers and celebration were missing that day, for everyone was still traumatized by the night before. Pony Silverbell was looked upon with suspicion and fear; the applicants were unsure whether all ills truly were cured by Conversion.

Silverbell sadly hung his head, and ambled slowly to his room. Carmine Vasquez noticed this and left the cafeteria. Eventually, she and Silverbell returned to the cafeteria. The room fell silent, all the applicants and staff staring at the pair.

"Come on, Silverbell!" Carmine's voice was gentle but firm "It will be alright. It will."

The blue newfoal trotted to his former roommate Joshua, whose toothless jaw dropped open, unsure of how to react.

"Joshua, the human that hurt you last night is dead. He is as dead as if he had never lived. He never should have lived at all. That human was a very broken man. He was incapable of love, or compassion, or real feelings for anyone or anything." The newfoal began to cry, tears rolling out of his huge, new eyes "Please accept my apology for him, and please forgive me for not having ended his awful, terrible life sooner." At this, the blue pony collapsed to the floor at Joshua's feet, crying like a foal, unable to stop.

Carmine stood by Silverbell now. "Joshua, I know last night was hard. I know you were hurt, bad. But we are all here for the same thing; for a new life. A better life. You understand what I'm trying to say?"

Joshua looked at the sobbing Equestrian. The newfoal version of Silverbell looked up with innocent eyes filled with sadness and regret. "Ith okay, Thillverbell. I'll hath new theeth the day after tomorrow anyway." Silverbell clutched Joshua's near leg between his own and nuzzled his head against Josh's knee, a pony hug.

Josh reached down and scratched Silverbell's ears. "Hey, come on, let'th get you thum lunth. Ith your firth meal ath a pony, rigth?"

"I'm really proud of you both!" Carmine beamed, and soon the cafeteria was back to the usual happy ritual of enjoying a newfoal's first meal of equine food. "Come on, Thilverbell, what'th it thaste like?" Joshua was curious to know.

Throughout her two weeks of orientation, Carmine became increasingly confident. She enjoyed helping applicants and newfoals alike, and, until they left for Equestria, she had become close to both the new Silverbell and the new Joshua, now a dark purple and gold pegasus, who Silverbell had named 'Midsummer Night'.

Thus it was that it came to be her day, and at Dr. Pastern's request, she was scheduled for the coveted Morning Conversion.

The loudspeaker filled the air "Helloooo all you animals! We're going to have a new pony in the stable today, so big cheer for today's lucky contestant! Carmine Rosalita Guadalupe Vasquez, the girl with a name for each leg - " That got a chuckle from the breakfast crowd - "It's POOOONYYYY TIIIIMMMMMEEE!!!" Cheers erupted, and Carmine got up from her simple bowl of oatmeal and bowed to her fellow applicants.

"If any of you ask me what alfalfa tastes like when I come back, I'll whip you with my new tail!" Carmine grinned.

"You can whip me any day!" came a voice from the crowd. Carmine stuck her tongue out at nobody and everybody.

Inside the Conversion Room, Dr. Pastern carefully measured out the correct dosage of Anesthesone Beta, which the database had presented as the safest option. Conversion was painful and disorienting, dreadfully so, thus appropriate anesthesia was a normal part of the procedure. The anesthetic agent was mixed into the ponification serum just prior to its administration to the patient. Time was a factor, because the serum itself would begin to break down and convert the agent fairly rapidly, rendering the anesthetic function useless.

Dr. Pastern waited while Lynn, Pastern's physician assistant, had gotten Carmine ready for Conversion. Lynn made sure that Carmine was aware of what was going on, that she was fully committed to the procedure, that she understood its permanence, the usual patient prep. Carmine was asked to undress fully, and to lay on her side on the table. At this point, Dr. Pastern measured out precisely three ounces of the nanotechnomagical plasm from its Erlenmeyer flask, then mixed the purple fluid into the Anesthesone already in the usual small white cup.

"Dr. Pastern?" Carmine was doing her best to show modesty despite lying naked on a table "How many times have you done this?" Patients often asked odd questions just before the administration of serum, it was just nervousness.

"Oh, gosh... Lynn?" The PA shrugged. Pastern couldn't remember exactly either. "It's been hundreds. I do three a day, on the days I work, and I've been here for almost six months. Hundreds. I've seen a lot of people become ponies." Pastern carefully brought the white plastic cup over to the table. "Just swallow this and the process will begin. You will fall asleep, and when you wake, you will wake to hooves and maybe even a horn, or wings."

"I actually never thought much about what kind of pony I'd become. Do you know what I will be?"

"There is no way to predict it. It is determined by genetic factors, so we'll just have to see. Ok. Are you ready?" Pastern saw the girl nod, and so she handed her the cup.

Carmine lifted herself slightly, in order to drink more easily. "It... it tastes like grape. Sort of."

"That's what they say." But by then, Carmine was already flat on the table, and the serum was beginning its work.

Carmine's flesh became first waxy, then shiny like melted plastic. Her fingers drew together and melted into each other as her hands stretched and swelled. Her toes vanished into the thick blobs that had become the end of her legs. Dr. Pastern and her PA Lynn watched as Carmine's head expanded and her neck thickened and elongated. Her eyes submerged briefly, only to return as rapidly growing globes, just under unbroken skin. In minutes they were almost the size of cantaloups, still completely sealed by flowing, rippling flesh.

As the blobs that terminated her legs formed into fetlocks and coronets, hooves grew and took shape. Carmine's huge skull solidified, and her new equine ears began to open up as auditory canals appeared. The fleshy, equinoid shape autonomically gasped and snorted, fresh new lungs tasting air for the first time. Creases appeared at the base of the eyes, as the lids unsealed themselves from the surrounding skin.

The final stage began. Lynn was the first to notice the small bud that had appeared on the dorsal surface of the bare cranium. A small horn began to express itself, growing with each passing second. Carmine was going to be a unicorn.

Suddenly, sprouting across the entire surface of the nearly complete newfoal, a rich coat of a lovely cerise grew. The tiny hairs protruded as the doctor and her assistant watched. When Carmine's coat was fully in, then came her mane and tail.

Long, strong fibers spun out from the flesh of her thin, naked tail, and also from her crest and poll. Carmine's new mane spooled out faster and faster, a curly mass of brilliant golden yellow; the color of sunflowers.

What was once a young woman, was now a healthy cerise and gold pony.

The time was 10:15 am. 'Conversion complete' noted Dr. Pastern on her hypernet terminal. Her terminal fed into the central Bureau quantum core, and this in turn fed into the hypersecure world corporation database. Roselyn noted the usual details; coat, mane and tail hues, pony type, eye color -wait, she hadn't determined that. "Lynn, would you check her eye color?"

"Sure... let's see," Lynn gently lifted one of the huge eyelids of the unconscious newfoal with a gloved hand. "Whoa... gold. Really gold. Shiny gold. That's a new one."

"Mmmm...no, I was going through Bureau statistics the other day, and I noticed gold in there. It's uncommon, but not actually rare." Roselyn entered the information.

"Well, it's the first gold iris for me."

"Then congratulations, Lynn. It's your golden opportunity!"

"Cute." Lynn made a face. "Hey! I just thought of something!"

"What?" Roselyn was busy finishing her report.

"Her name is Carmine, right?" Roselyn turned to face her PA "Yeah, so?" Lynn looked playful "Well, look at her. She's kinda red, sort of. Sort of a shade of red."

"Huh." Roselyn pondered "A bit of bluish in there, but mostly red. Yeah, that's neat when that happens. Remember that guy, last name was 'gray', and he turned out gray?"

"I love co-inky-dink." Lynn smiled "Coincidence is fun."

Sometime around eleven, the first signs of consciousness began to return to pony-Carmine. Her first sensations were of her hooves feeling heavy. Then her left ear itched; automatically she flicked it. Interesting, she thought, her ears could move. She felt good -different of course - but better than she ever had before in her life. Her mood was bright and she felt healthy and increasingly energetic.

Dr. Pastern and Lynn were there, and helped her to her hooves, when she was ready to try. Standing seemed automatic, but it took some work to feel confident when walking. It wasn't that different from the motions used in crawling as a baby, Carmine thought. This was going to be fun. She had a bright new life to live.

And then it hit her.

"Lavincompái....lavincompái...Ay, Celestia mío!" Carmine stood with her legs spread, her eyes wide with pinpoint pupils. Her ears had flattened against her skull. "No. No. NO."

"Carmine? What's the matter?" Dr. Pastern was concerned. It was clear that her patient was in a highly agitated state. This was beyond unusual, Pastern had never seen this before.

The newfoal backed into the corner, head looking from left to right as though in fear of an attack "Stay away from me! Aléjate de mí!"

"Why? What is happening, Carmine?" Dr. Pastern squatted down, speaking in a quiet voice. "I am here to help you. You need to tell me what is going on."

"NO ONE CAN HELP ME!" Carmine screamed at Pastern "Ay, Celestia mío! What I have done! I don't deserve this! I don't deserve this!" Carmine's eyes dripped with tears, but she was not crying from sadness, but from horror "You don't have a clue. Oh mí médico, you have no idea, you have no clue at all!"

"Carmine, whatever is going on, I promise I will try to help you. But I don't understand." Dr. Pastern was beginning to fear psychosis -it had never happened before, but considering just how profound a change this was...

"I am not what you think." Carmine was furious now. "I am not your good girl, I am not some sweet girl. I don't deserve any of this. Oh, Celestia. oh madre mía - I came here to escape from my gang. I am the worst sort of person. I killed without mercy, I loved to kill and torture any who crossed me. I stole and killed the inocente. Then I stole from my gang, I killed my brother, and they marked me, they marked me for death. Pinche puta, that is what I am. Caquita de la vaquita - that is what I am!"

"Carmine?" Dr. Pastern had no idea what to do. "Carmine. I don't know about any of that. But I do know that you have a new life. Equestrians aren't like that, they physiologically cannot do the things you describe. Even if you were like that in the past, you literally cannot be like that anymore!" Carmine just stared at her, breathing heavily, every muscle rigid "Carmine, please, the body you now inhabit is innately kind. Conversion installs some kind of... ethos. Some kind of hardwired conscience. We've documented it. All newfoals become peaceable, incapable of violent.."

"SHUT UP!" Carmine had returned to rage "Cállate! That is just what has happened, you imbécil - I never felt anything before. NEVER! I could cut the eyes from a child's face and feel nothing! And I did! I did whatever I wanted and I felt only for myself. But now! NOW!" The flood of tears had begun once more, and Carmine began shaking with uncontrollable tremors "One such as I does not deserve this new life!"

Suddenly Carmine leapt for the door. Her unsteady hooves skittered on the floor, and if not for her body impacting the doorframe, she would have fallen. She pushed through the door, and half-ran, half fell down the hallway before Dr. Pastern could get up from where she had crouched.

Dr. Pastern ran after the newfoal. "Lynn! Call security!" Pastern made the door and set out down the hallway. She saw the yellow tail of Carmine pass through the entrance to the kitchen.

The triumphant cheers of the lunch crowd were cut suddenly short as Carmine burst through, dashing for the lobby. No one knew what was going on. Dr. Pastern ran after, yelling "Security! Security!"

Carmine made the exit, and forced her way through. The lobby door was unlocked during daytime, to permit new applicants to enter. Bethany saw Dr. Pastern run into the room, breathing heavily. "Did she leave?"

"The newfoal?" Bethany had no idea what was going on "Yeah, a newfoal just went out that door. Like the devil himself was chasing her!"

Dr. Pastern, hunched over, with her hands on her knees, tried to regain her breath. "He was." she said between breaths.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Carmine found that she couldn't jump off the ruins of the Westcorp Golden Bridge. Something in her new brain somehow prevented her. Now, against her will, she cared for all living things, even for her own despicable life. It was the work of the ponies, the work of the great Princess she had seen in her Conversion dream. This could not be her, at least, that is what she told herself. The dead water was there, and the sharp rocks, but she could not destroy the beautiful thing that housed her soul now. Eventually she had no choice but to leave.

She shuffled slowly along, head down, wretched. Her long, golden tail dragged through the soot and grime, likewise dragged the tips of her golden mane, so low was her head.

Once, her tail became tangled in some twisted rebar. Carmine pulled and tore and ripped herself loose, her tail now ragged at the ends. She knew that she deserved no better.

Inside her, all of her victims screamed in her memory. She could feel her new flesh working hard to censor the horror of the memories, to limit the darkness of her recollection, but in her human life, she had been very, very dark indeed. She had been a consummate actor. As a born sociopath, it was either that, or have a very short run. She had carefully learned to mimic the other kind, those who clung to each other like children, those who were so alien to her, so stupid, so easy to prey upon.

She had painstakingly learned their manners and their mannerisms. She could mimic the behaviors their strange compulsions made them perform; altruism, kindness, courtesy. These tools only enhanced her fun, and made her existence vastly easier, and infinitely more secure.

But now, for the first time, she actually felt all the emotions that she had taught herself to mimic. The emotions, the feelings overwhelmed her. She hurt for every life she had snuffed, she burned like hellfire inside at the memory of what she had done, how she had been. Between rage and tears, she felt some kind of feeling like wrongness, guilt it must be, and she was driven by a consuming need, a hunger to somehow... do something to make up for it all.

And this compulsion seared her. She could not bear it. Life was now torture, she was in some kind of hell, and if she just could end it, within the peace of oblivion, she would be free. But she could not. This damned new flesh wanted to live, it wanted her to live. It was like a child, like a dog, it knew only love, even for such as her.

The idea must have formed during her long wandering through the radioactive lethality zone that once had been Noe Valley. She would return to her territory, to the Sombra Sangre. She knew the paths no one else would dare, the secret ways into the heart of the nightmare that once was Paradise Valley. There, she would find an answer, one way or another.

She remembered the days that she, Alejandro and Baldovín would hunt the ponies. The stupid newfoals had lost the keen edge that allowed for survival in the real world, and sometimes went where they didn't belong. They had kept score, shooting errant pegasai from the dark skies, with the highest honors for clipping their wings, causing them to smack onto the ground. Then the real fun began, after the screaming, broken things had been bound, and the knives sharpened.

She would stop all of that. She would go to Alejandro directly, and convince him to go to the Bureau, convince him to free himself of his demons, of the devils that possessed him. And if she could not, then, he would in his twisted way, do that which she no longer could.

Carmine had become more able of hoof with each passing hour. She had always been fleet and swift; this had been retained in her. Now she could walk softly even with her new hooves. It was not that different from the high shoes she had worn, in the days before Alejandro recruited her, when she rolled johns, slitting their throats so as to take their money and possessions.

The way was long, and she continued to travel even at night, spurred on by her great need to end her guilt. When the night became so black that she could not see her own hooves, her frustration awakened something within her, and a burst of light came from her head. She found the abandoned wreck of a half-melted automobile, it's windshield still somehow intact. By the light that came from her forehead, she learned that she was a unicorn pony, her horn the source of the illumination.

With effort of will, she tuned that light down, enough to see, but not so much as to draw unwanted attention. Onward she went, her need outweighing any tiredness. As morning light broke through the twisted ruins, Carmine found herself crossing the no-mans land that was Hillside. She followed the hidden path that led to the fortaleza of the Sombra Sangre.

She waited in the main room, the salas del trono of the fortress, where all the members met, where she could be sure to meet Alejandro. She sat awkwardly on the floor, proud that she still had the skills to come and go, even in this new flesh.

"Qué chingados!!!" Alejandro stood, in his boxers, his hair unkempt, staring at the brightly colored intruder. "I don't fucking believe this. I don't... Baldovín! Salomón! Come here! NOW!"

Soon Carmine was surrounded by familiar faces. All were shocked and incredulous at the creature in their sanctuary. How had it gotten there, what did it mean? Many now had guns, all pointed at her. And there was Alejandro, his favorite long knife in his hand.

"What you doing here, pony?" Alejandro acted fierce, but Carmine could see that he had been rattled by the unexpected invasion of his home. "In the end, you will tell me anything I want to know. Who put you there? Are they still here?" Ah, Carmine realized, Alejandro thought she was a warning from one of his rivals.

"Alejandro! It is I, Carmine! I have returned as one of the Converted. I have come to save your soul, Alejandro!"

Alejandro stared, dumbfounded. The chamber was silent; what could be said to such a thing? Then Alejandro began to laugh, first a nervous chuckle, then building to a roar. The members of Sombra Sangre joined in, and the room howled with laughter.

"I speak the truth, Alejandro. As a woman, I knew no pity, and I had no conscience. There was no person I would not hurt if it furthered my wishes. But now I am no longer a woman, I am a mare, and I am no longer the same. Now I feel. Now I know what it is to care for the lives of others, to feel shame for what I have done." Carmine was standing now, her head raised and defiant, her ears tall. "I come to you to tell you of this; Conversion cures all evil inside, it makes the uncaring care, the unloving know love. I come to ask you all to join me, to go to the Bureau with me, and give up this life of sin and darkness for one free from the call of satanás."

Carmine had won. She had beaten her new flesh, and the control it had over her. It would not permit her to kill herself, but it had no inner prohibition against helping others, even if the result would be the same. She admired her own cleverness.

Again the laughter, and again the roaring. "So... you come back to us, little puta, and you stand in my home and you tell me that I am evil and that I should follow you to become a tiny potro, and give up everything to do so?" Alejandro stood over Carmine, waving his knife. Carmine waited for the blow, for the flowing blood. "I do not think so." Alejandro turned away, and took a seat nearby.

What? Where was the killing blow? Carmine was surprised.

"No, I know you. You cannot speak truth. I know why you are here, puta. You know you are marked, that you are to die, why would you come to the one place you should never come?" Alejandro tapped his knife angrily on the arm of his chair "I will tell you why."

This was not going the way Carmine had planned.

"You are not happy, being a pony. I think you are even more miserable a pony than you were a woman. You have come here the coward, to have us do what you no longer can do for yourself. Again you use us. Again you manipulate and take what you need. You think you will die here, that your troubles will end here." Alejandro smiled. When Alejandro smiled, nothing good ever happened.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Carmine felt the wind. It blew sour and bitter, and carried with it the scent and taste of heavy metals and industrial poisons. She had been left somewhere in the blasted ruins near the Conversion Bureau. She could just see the edge of the roof of the gargantuan AppleSoft building, through her remaining eye. The pain she felt transcended interpretation, and between waves, she would pass out, her consciousness retreating from what she could not bear.

They had enjoyed themselves with her, but they had been careful, so very careful, not to let her die. They had left her where she would be easily spotted, easily found in the morning.

The short stump of her right leg was bandaged. They had left the severed hoof in front of her, where she could see it. Flies covered it. She could not feel her tail. Her back felt as if it had been skinned. She fell into blackness again. It was too much.

When she became aware once again, it was still night, yet her lone eye could see. A bright glow emanated from her forehead. For whatever reason, Alejandro had left her horn intact. Perhaps he had feared that messing with it might kill her by harming her brain somehow.

Carmine no longer wanted to suffer. The guilt in her was still there, but now some part of her felt sorry for her own flesh. Her new pony body should not suffer because the soul in it was evil. She felt a new guilt; she had ruined a precious gift, given freely. She had destroyed something beautiful just to satisfy her own selfish needs.

Something must be done. She must atone somehow. This could not stand.

The glow grew brighter. With all of her new heart, Carmine cried for the poor pony body she inhabited. Only now did she realize how pretty it had been. It was just another innocent she had destroyed. Carmine wept not for herself, but for the life of the ruined, innocent flesh that she had been given.

She felt an electric shock run through her flank. A strange, almost musical sound caressed the air. What was that? She could not move to see. The glow from her horn became blinding. She shut her eyes, one lid flapping down over a wet, fly-infested socket.

Suddenly light poured out of her remaining eye. Her mutilated body glowed, every remaining hair tipped with light. Bolts of some strange force lashed out around her as her bulk lifted off of the burned earth. The ruined mass that was Carmine Vasquez hung in the air, surrounded by lightning, beams of light streaming from every orifice, her horn as bright as the sun.

Carmine's body melted like hot wax, and running streams of tissue flowed over it. Her ruined leg swelled and burst its bandages, a new leg and hoof already taking shape. A round mass began to fill her vacant periorbital cavity. The many lacerations that covered her were washed away by tides of liquid flesh.

The glowing bolts that writhed around her diminished and vanished even as Carmine sank back to the earth. She found herself standing on four healthy hooves, seeing out of two eyes again. She was complete and whole.

The light from her horn dimmed, but before it flickered entirely out she managed to catch a glimpse of her flank: a red caduceus inside a white, five-pointed star.

Carmine had heard something of the Equestrian races. The pegasai could fly and command the weather in some manner. The earth ponies, which referred not to the planet Earth, but rather to the ancient concept of elemental earth, had subtle abilities related to plants and animals and strength. And then the unicorns, possessed of control over the strange energies of Equestria, that which was called 'magic'.

Nothing in what she had heard of those powers included what had just happened to her. It was known and understood that some Equestrian unicorns specialized in healing, they were the medical unicorns. Once, when Salomón had been shot, Alejandro had him taken to see just such a unicorn - the ponies were everywhere, and a médico was a médico. This one was close by, and Salomón needed urgent help. Carmine had gone with them. She had seen what a medical unicorn could do, and it was far shy of what she had somehow just achieved.

Salomón lived, the hole in him was caused to stop bleeding, but he was not made instantly whole. He required several additional treatments before he could be made useful to Alejandro again, and months to completely heal. This was what Carmine knew of normal unicorn magic, but she had just regrown hoof and eye and the hide on her back, and much more besides, all in an instant.

Carmine knew she was somehow powerful; extraordinarily so. She could feel it, and the mark on her flank somehow spoke to her, deep inside, of some destiny she could sense, but not know. She could not explain why or how she had become so gifted, but she could not deny that it was true - her own dead hoof, sticky with drying blood, had still been there, in the dimming light of her horn.

There was nothing she could do about Alejandro, and she was powerless to end the terror of the Sombra Sangre. She could never give back the lives she had destroyed, nor ever forgive her previous life.

But she could make some effort to atone, now. She would never go to Equestria, and live in green fields. She would not escape the dying, miserable Earth. She would stay, and wander this world, and she would help any soul in need. She would heal the sick, and remake the crippled, lift the dying from death's door, and give sight to the blind. And she would do this asking nothing in return, disappearing into the night, nameless and unknown, and she would do this to the end of whatever days she might be allotted.

This was how she would try to be worthy of such a gift, and perhaps, if she embraced this path with all of her heart, something of her soul might possibly be redeemed.

Carmine stepped for the second time on fresh new hooves. But this time, however, she would strive to one day be worthy of them.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Security had turned up nothing, when Carmine Rosalita Guadalupe Vasquez had run out the door to vanish in the ruins. They were paid to protect the clinics, not to chase after wayward clients. Dr. Pastern had even messaged the Bureau controller to see what could be done, but there was no funding for followup or for pursuit - the plan of the world corporation was to convert as many humans as possible within whatever time remained to Mankind, and that was all.

When Dr. Roselyn Pastern finally returned to the cafeteria, she had missed lunch entirely. It was 1:00 now, and whatever fate awaited Carmine, she would never find out. Roselyn wished that the poor girl would find friends out there - she had been so upset, and had said such terrible things about herself. Never before had Pastern seen such a disturbing reaction to Conversion.

She dearly hoped that she never would again.

Miriam, the head cook for the cafeteria, was kind enough to slap together a simple sandwich for Pastern. Roselyn was very grateful, for she was terribly hungry after the events of the morning, and she had her second Conversion of the day scheduled for two o'clock. Three per day, every day, at 10, 2, and 4 o'clock. Dr. Pepper time, she thought, from long, long ago.

Carmine was gone. There was nothing to be done about that. But, Roselyn thought to herself, the next Conversion was always a new opportunity to seek redemption.

And in Dr. Pastern's past was reason enough to seek redemption.

A Cup Of Cheer

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Three: A Cup Of Cheer

Alexi Venäläinen loved the clinic 042 microphone. He had supplied it, when the announcement system for the ancient building had failed. He had acquired an archaic Shure Model 55A Unidyne “Fatboy”, which back in the days of employment and currency would have been worth a fortune. Now, of course, nothing was worth more than barter value -the only 'collectors' were the unseen corporate elite.

Alexi had solved clinic 042's no-loudspeaker problem with a very basic amp and a set of speakers. It was trivial, really, the only problem was locating the components, and he was very good at that. Dr. Pastern had supplied him with some Noetinol and Panocane; there was always someone willing to trade for even the most basic of pseudonarcotics. Less suffering out in the ruins, and a decent loudspeaker for the clinic. This was Bureau business done right!

Two o'clock would be rolling around soon, so Alexi began trying to think of something clever to say. He had an admiration for the old days of radio, movie and television announcing, back before holos and hypermedia took over everything. Alexi loved making a show of it when he made announcements. He would pretend he was announcing the daily poop in a warzone, or that he was an old time radio jock. Sometimes he would do his 'old 2D movie voice' and boom action phrases with tremendous severity. Other times he went for cartoon voices or comedic routines.

The midday Conversion was to be Tyler Derichs. Alexi tried to think of anything about the applicant that he could recall. He'd briefly met Tyler in the cafeteria a few times over the last week; nervous guy, a bit opinionated, liked... trucks. Tyler liked old, pre-electric trucks. He claimed he had restored a few, though that seemed pointless - without hydrocarbon fuels, there was little point in restoring a machine that used them. Then again, people did the strangest things to pass the time out in the favela.

Trucks, trucks... Ah! Old truck rallies. Truck shows! The advertisements for those things had the coolest voices. Alexi holoed up some old clips to brush up on that style. That would give the animals some laughs. "M-M-MONSTER TRUUUK!" he grinned - this was going to be fun!

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Pastern carefully removed two fleshstrips from the biokeeper. Each fleshstrip was a long, thin rectangle, surrounded by a nanostructured frame which supplied the living strip with nutrients and chemistry to keep it alive. Inside the biokeeper the strips of living human skin could survive for a human lifespan, outside, the frames that supported them could support the tissue for only a few hours.

She placed her fleshstrips in a petri dish, careful to handle them only by the support frame. One side of the living flesh was normal skin, the other side was wet, yellowish, glistening fat. Fleshstrips were usually unpigmented, so that changes in them could be more easily seen; the skin was like chalk, for the veins in it were not filled with blood, but with a proprietary nanofluid.

Pastern left the infirmary, turned and entered the Conversion Room. She placed the petri dish on the counter, and moved to the red case. Inside was the Erlenmeyer, with 24 ounces of ponification serum remaining.

Pastern's assistant Lynn entered, and began searching the cabinets "Did we get more blankets yet?"

Roselyn thought for a moment, while she removed the Erlenmeyer from its case. "Um... try the third cabinet... no, that one. Yes. There!"

"Thanks." Lynn watched as Roselyn set the flask down, and reached for a fleshstrip. The fleshstrip was carefully placed over the belly of the Erlenmeyer, the underside of wet fat sticking to the flask, the support frame bending to match the curvature. Next, Pastern started a timer on her holoterminal. "Ros... whatcha up to? Problem with the 'potion'?"

"I'm still bothered by Carmine." Dr. Pastern scratched her head "I just can't accept the things she said - maybe she had some kind of psychotic reaction, maybe this is a bad batch. If it is, I want to know before two."

"You know there's never been a recorded bad reaction." Lynn took out a blanket and set it on the other counter. "Pony syrup works like maaaagiiiic."

"We've seen hundreds of conversions, and all of them were perfect. But Carmine..."

"Doc, Roselyn..." Lynn came over and put a hand on Pastern's arm "...maybe she really was what she claimed. We get all kinds of people in here. All kinds."

"I suppose you're right. Three to four percent of the population are going to be born with sociopathic tendencies, we've seen hundreds of applicants... it is inevitable we'd get our share. But she was so nice."

"So, high-functioning sociopath. It happens." Lynn looked more closely at the fleshstrip sticking to the flask. "Whoa... doc, take a look."

The pale white fleshstrip had become covered in dark yellow spots. The spots were already beginning to turn black as the cells perished and withered. As the two watched, one of the larger spots developed a tiny hole in the middle, the dead, shrinking tissues separating from each other.

"What's the time?" Pastern checked the holodisplay "thirty-eight seconds. Damn. This juice is hot. Really hot."

There was no way to detect thaumatic radiation, except by the effect it had on earthly, living cells. Animal cells responded rapidly, and dramatically. The cultured human-derived skinstrips were the standard way to check thaumatic levels in general; the more rapidly necrosis set in, the higher the thaumatic rating. The standard rating for ponification serum was 1:46, one minute and forty-six seconds until the first sign of necrosis.

Roselyn put the flask carefully back in the case. She removed her hands and studied them. "No sign of injury on me, but then I'm a complete organism, and not a fragile fleshstrip. Still... this is easily the hottest jar of pony we have ever had. Don't they check these things?"

"Maybe they don't." Lynn went to the door. "After all, there's nineteen billion people that need converting. I bet they're having a hard time just chugging this goop out to meet demand at all."

Roselyn Pastern unconsciously stood a little further away from the red case. Maybe things were so desperate that checking levels just took too much time. But could the higher level of thaumatic flux really be responsible for Carmine's strange reaction. It didn't seem likely at all. Sighing, Roselyn had to admit to herself that Lynn was probably right. Underneath that sweet girl had likely lurked a monster all along.

One thing comforted Dr. Pastern: if Carmine had been a monster, ponification would make sure she could never be such again. Equestrians could be shallow, rude, neurotic, angry, sad, even fairly bitchy and obnoxious. But the one thing they could not do was to be truly cruel. They were innately prohibited from arbitrary violence. Ponification removed all the destructive tendencies that were so vital to survival in raw, terrestrial Nature. Equestrian nature was the opposite of 'red in tooth and claw', or so it seemed. Conversion inculcated this peaceable alien nature into the newfoals.

Two o'clock was coming up. Second conversion of the day. Let's see... Roselyn checked her schedule; Tyler Derichs, age 32, male, favela dweller, allergen group 'C', three obvious implants, one permatech, two standard. Pastern reached for one of the two remaining plastic cups. No... it had been a weird day. She'd wait to pour out the anesthetic agent.

Instead, she went to her holoterminal and began researching 'sociopathology, percentage in population, current'.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Bethany had been having a weird day. It had started easily enough, the usual delivery of the case, Dr. Pastern trying to get her to go pony, bad tasting coffee, all normal for a Tuesday. But her tumors had been itching like crazy, and when her tumors itched like that, usually things were off. Back when Silverbell hit that kid -what was his name..., oh well, it ended up being 'Midsummer Night', she remembered that. Ponies had the craziest names. Whatever. Anyway, that day her tumors had itched too. They always itched on the off days.

The animals -the applicants- were restless today as well. 2:00 conversion wasn't as interesting as morning, because nobody could make a fuss over First Meal As A Pony; lunch being over and all. But today, the applicants that weren't in the study rooms watching holos about 'Life In Equestria: What You Need To Know As A Newfoal Citizen' seemed to be hanging about in the doorways to their rooms. It was like they were expecting something. Maybe it was just a boring tuesday for them. Still, Beth's tumors itched.

She saw one applicant - Nathan, she thought his name was - jump slightly when Alexi boomed over the loudspeaker.

"TUESDAY...TUESDAY...TUESDAY!!! LIVE AT THE BUREAU! TYLER -LER-ler-ler DERICHS -ICHS-ichs-ichs! THE BIG TRUCK FULL OF PONY IS COMING RIGHT AT YOOOOUUU!!! Report to the Conversion Room, Tyler, because IT'S POOOONNNYYYY TIIIIIIME!!!!" The speakers made several thudding sounds and Alexi could be heard saying 'damn' - he must have knocked over his mic, probably while waving his arms around. Alexi had way too much fun announcing the conversions.

Bethany wondered if this sort of thing happened at other bureaus. She set about updating the clinic inventory requisition. Lynn had asked her for more of something or another... blankets. Not enough blankets. Beth was sure she'd already taken care of -

The door burst open. In bounced a new face, a girl in her twenties. Her raven hair was naturally curly, and cut short. She wore a highly patched blue jumper, the lower leg on the right side had been lost -torn off, or just nothing left to patch. Her blouse, under the jumper, had once been white, now it was the color of anything that spent much time in the ruins. Her shoes didn't match, one black, the other red. She had a massive tumor on her right knee. Maybe the missing jumper leg was to accommodate that.

The girl had implants, two goggle-like structures, one over each eye, grafted into her forehead. Probably nightscanners, maybe even wideband. An alternate set of eyes. Somewhere in her past, there had been money.

Two not entirely clean hands, covered in fingerless gloves slammed down on Beth's reception desk. "HELLLOOO THERE!"

"Um, hello, miss..." Beth waited. "I'm Bethany, welcome to.."

"THE CONVERSION BUREAU! HOOPLA!" The girl spun in place, arms upstretched, a vast grin on her smudged face. "I am SOOOO ready to be a PONY!" The girl grinned even bigger, her hands back on the counter, her face leaning in much too close for Beth.

"Ou...our.. the basic orientation is two weeks, during which all applicants have the opportunity to learn about their new lives, receive training on basic tasks, and learn about the new bodies which they...

"yeah, yeah, just do me." The girl looked serious now. "do me. Do me, you know you want to."

"I beg your pardon!" Bethany was uncertain about exactly what the girl meant.

"DO MEEE! Make me a pony. Better yet, make me INTO a pony. I wanna be a pony." The girl slid around the desk, and finally lay her head sideways on it. She blinked, a remarkably endearing thing considering the implants above her eyes -or maybe because of them. "I've always wanted to be a pony. Make my dreams come true. You can do it. Pleeeeease?"

Beth felt flustered for a few seconds, unable to respond. "T-that's what we're here for. First, let's get you signed in. Name?"

"Name?" repeated the girl.

"Your name, sweety. We need your name." Beth liked the strange applicant, even if she was a little... unconventional.

"Why?" she asked. The girl blinked again, and blew an errant lock of curl away from her face.

"Well, first we sign you in, and then you begin your two-week.."

"No." The girl stood up, looking slightly cross "I asked why my name was needed. Why do you need anyponies name?"

"Any..pony?" Only newfoals used that term. Well, seriously anyway. Beth went on "It's part of the procedure, see it's.."

"After you turn me into a pony, I'll probably pick a new name, right? Earth names suck for a pony." The girl pouted.

"Well, yes, I suppose that is the common..."

"After that, I will be a citizen of Equestria. I will owe my allegiance to the great Princesses Celestia and Luna. I won't even be human anymore. I will be an alien with spooooky powers. But I personally won't count to the world corporation any more. As far as records go, I won't exist anymore. You should just ask me what my pony name is going to be."

Beth couldn't help but smile despite feeling flustered. The way this girl said things was just...cute. And she had a point. It was kind of silly to keep such detailed records about people with the world ending and everything. The world corporation was basically funding the evacuation of the entire planet to Equestria. Records were...pointless. It was like keeping records of who got on the lifeboats as the Titanic was sinking.

"Alright." Beth knew when she had been beaten. "So, tell me then, what is your pony name going to be?"

The girl stood straight and tall "Robert Jacob Jingleheimer Patchowsky. The Third!" she said gravely, and saluted.

"You're a kind of a goofy goober, aren't you?" Beth grinned.

"I'm more of the Pretty Prancing Pony type. Or I will be, if you just let me in there." The girl pouted again.

"In where?"

"The Conversion Room. Three ounces of nanotechnomagical plasm, also known as Ponification Transmogrification Serum, or 'Potion'; it consists of terrestrial nanotechnology fused with Equestrian thaumatic radiation - now make me a pony. Right now! Hup to, soldier!" The girl pretended she was marching.

"You certainly seem to have studied up on Conversion." Beth was impressed - many applicants knew that there was something to do about ponies, and that this was the place to be, but all too often not much more than that.

The girl slumped down on the counter in front of Beth. Her head was on the countertop, her arms splayed out. She looked up at Beth. "Did I tell you that I always wanted to have a pony?"

"I thought you said you wanted to be a pony."

"That too. Then I can do both. Now, you just tell whoever is back there that a nice girl with great hair is coming, and that she is reeeealy thirsty for pony juice." Her face was the very image of angelic innocence.

Beth couldn't help but chuckle. Suddenly the loudspeaker sounded again.

"Tyler Derichs? HELLOOOOO!!! Tyler? Everybody's waiting on you! Get on back there, Tyler! The T-man, the Tiger of truck-town, come on bro, it's go time! If anybody knows where Tyler is, send him back, OK?"

The girl was wandering now, arms occasionally outstretched, looking at the holopics pinned to the walls of past applicants and the ponies they became. No one bothered with such shots anymore, but in the first few months, when applicants were fewer, it had been the thing to do. "Looks like you gots you an o-pen-ing!" the girl sang over her shoulder.

Dr. Pastern paced to the front desk. "Beth, do you know what happened to our next conversion? I'm ready for him, but so far, it's a no-show."

One of the applicants, the one that had jumped, Nathan, overheard and came to the desk. "Tyler kind of left."

"What do you mean, left?" Beth didn't seem happy, she hadn't seen him leave, and she'd been there all day.

"Remember when that sorta-red pony ran out the door, and everybody was like all 'security! security!' and stuff? Tyler sort of took the express out of here then." Nathan was a little shy, so he shuffled his feet a bit "Should I have said something sooner?"

"I'm sorry Roselyn." Bethany was never happy when anything slipped past her. "I honestly didn't see him leave, I had no idea."

"That's alright, Ms. Receptionist Lady." The girl was behind Beth now, patting her shoulder. She gave Beth, and her chair, a big hug. "It's really all for the best, this was meant to be." Now the girl was in front of Dr. Pastern. "Hello, Roselyn, my name is Caprice, or possibly Whimsy, I haven't decided yet. I'm your two o'clock. Just lead the way, and let's get me properly ponified. Pronto."

"Beth?" Dr. Pastern was confused. "Who...what?"

"She just strolled in. She's been talking up a storm, she's pretty eager for conversion. Come on...Caprice, let the doctor get back to her work, and let's get you registered." Beth began entering 'Caprice' into her holoterminal.

"Seriously, Doctor Roselyn, may I just call you 'Ros'? Seriously Ros, I am completely ready for Conversion, right now." Caprice had taken Dr. Pastern by the arm, and was leading her away from the front desk, vaguely towards the back, where the Conversion Room must somewhere be located. "I honestly do not need two weeks of orientation wearing human skin. Orientation would be so much better in my proper form. I have studied ponification, I know everything available about Equestria, Equestrian diet, manners, society, I can even write in Equestrian pictogrammatic script. Check this!" Caprice spoke the strange, melodic tones of the native Equestrian language, managing to do a remarkable simulation of the sounds that only the ponies could make, but which gave humans such trouble. "I just said 'you have such pretty red hair', and you really do, Ros, just gorgeous. If I was human, I'd sooo want your hair."

Only now did Dr. Pastern realize she was halfway to the Conversion Room. Beth was running up, not a bit happy. "Caprice! Leave Dr. Pastern alone. I am so sorry, DOCTOR Pastern. Now come along with me, you little scamp." Beth tried to take Caprice's arm.

"Ooohh... 'Scamp!' I like that." Caprice giggled and spun in place when Beth tried to pull her away, Beth did a neat circle around the girl. "You!"

"Wait." Dr. Pastern had a hand on Beth's shoulder. "It's OK. I think we can forgo the usual rigamarole this time."

"But... Dr. Pastern..." Beth sounded like someone had stolen her toy.

"It's OK. The world is ending, after all, right?" Pastern looked strangely sad. Beth let go of Caprice. "Oh, I LIKE her!" bubbled Caprice.

Roselyn showed Caprice to the corridor past the cafeteria, and had her enter the infirmary. Caprice had thought they were going directly to the Conversion Room, and stumbled when the direction suddenly changed. She pawed in the air like a kitten after a ball of yarn, making little animal noises at the door, before she giggled her way into the 'Boo-Boo Room'.

"I need to check a few things first, Caprice, was it?" Roselyn opened a drawer and took out the portable allergenotype scanner.

"Yes, I think so. I really like that name. Although 'Whimsy' is kind of sweet, too. What do you think?" Caprice was quite quiet now, and she spoke more softly than before.

"I'd go with 'Caprice'. I like that better. It has a kind of elegance to it." Roselyn indicated that Caprice should hold out her bare arm, wrist up. The girl complied, and the scanner was placed on her forearm. "Allergenotype... A. You're in the largest group in terms of allergenic response. That makes things especially simple. Now, let me take a look at those implants."

Caprice lowered her head so that the doctor could touch and examine the goggle-like machines implanted in her forehead. "I have to say I like 'Caprice' best too. Ok, Caprice it is. Hello, I'm Caprice, Dr. Roselyn Pastern, how do you do?"

"My day has not gone that well so far, but..." Pastern gave a slight tug to the left implant "...maybe it will get better. Do you have any other implants other than these? Nice permatech by the way, Nightwanders, aren't they?"

"Yup! Only the best for my daddy's little girl. I can see in any illumination, read by the heat of my own body, they even do ultraviolet and radio frequencies. I can spot an EM source like a candle in the dark. By the way, somebody left something on over there." Caprice motioned towards a cabinet. Sure enough, inside there was a small bloodwork scanner, batteries draining.

"You know, ponies can't have implants. All those augmented senses go away the minute you become a pony." Dr. Pastern switched off the scanner and closed the cabinet.

"I know, doctor. But all the extra senses can't begin to equal a world of flowers and kindness." Caprice, for the first time, showed some deep sadness inside her. "I have never liked being human, Roselyn." Caprice looked directly at Pastern's eyes, her gaze intense. "Getting augmented was one way I tried to escape humanity. But playing Singularity doesn't change the important part. I could be entirely machine, but even then, my program would still be emulating human thoughts."

Roselyn understood. Ponies didn't think like humans. They couldn't be... like Carmine had described herself. Real evil, human evil, was impossible in Equestria, at least with regard to the Equestrians. Roselyn remembered a certain room, in her past, and five helpless men, and the general and his lieutenant. That would never have happened on the Equestrian side of the Barrier.

"Ros? Doctor? Are you OK?" Caprice was worried.

"Sorry. Excuse me, Caprice." Roselyn ran a hand through her hair. "Just remembering something. I completely understand why you want to be a pony. I feel the same way. I understand."

"Six EM sensors. In my hands. In answer to your implant question." Caprice looked thoughtful "Oh! And a small processing adjunct in my cerebellum. Shouldn't be a problem, from what I've read... ponification just melts those away, right?" Doctor Pastern nodded. "Hey! Why don't you take a sip yourself! We can be pony sisters!"

"I'd like to, I really would. I'm afraid I've got some stuff to do while I'm still human. But one day. One day I will." Pastern looked just a little sad.

"Ok, doc. I understand." Caprice suddenly gave Dr. Pastern a hug. "Cheer up! Your time will come! Equestria is only a cup away!"

Dr. Pastern entered her pass in the active surface plate, and opened the now unlocked Conversion Room door. The huge metal door was covered in warnings; Danger Thaumatic Hazard, Biohazard, Authorized Personnel Only, and a plaque with a stylized image of the Equestrian form, just like the same symbol on the Erlenmeyer flask that held the 'pony juice'.

Lynn was there, playing a game on the hypernet terminal "Uh...HI! Um... sorry, just... you know.." the physician's assistant looked a little sheepish.

"It's fine, Lynn. Sorry for taking so long." Dr. Pastern noted that it was now 2:46, she was a little behind schedule for second conversion. "Change of applicant. This is Caprice." Caprice did a little curtsy complete with finger to chin. "She's stepping in to fill the slot of our runaway mister Derichs."

"Derichs went rabbit?" Lynn finished shutting down her game.

"Apparently, going pony wasn't good enough for the aristocratic Mr. Derichs." Lynn could tell that Roselyn was in a better mood than before. "But Caprice here, is quite eager for ponification, apparently."

"Hello, Lynn! I'm not only eager, but so very willing!" Caprice did her best sultry voice.

Lynn laughed. "Glad to meet you, Caprice. I'm Dr. Pastern's PA - Physician's Assistant. I'll be assisting today - I need to take your blood pressure and ask you a few questions." Lynn went to get her autocuff.

"Yes, Yes, and Absolutely! -and why so formal? Her name is Roselyn! If she calls you Lynn, you should be able to call her Roselyn! Right Roselyn?" Caprice already had her arm out so Lynn could wrap the autocuff around it.

Dr. Pastern chuckled. " I guess she has a point. Again. There's no use arguing with this one, Lynn, take note."

"Her BP is normal, everything checks out. OK, Caprice, first I have to ask you three questions..."

"I already answered them, remember? YES, I know what the procedure does, YES, I am fully committed to the procedure, and I ABSOLUTELY understand how ABSOLUTELY permanent it ABSOLUTELY is. Absolutely!" Caprice had a very happy grin, the kind Lynn couldn't help but return.

"You been to a Bureau before?" Lynn was curious about how the girl knew what she was going to ask.

Caprice tapped her forehead implants "I've had other work done in the past, it's always the same questions, everywhere. Don't worry, I won't sue. I can't sue; what lawyer would take a barnyard animal as a client?"

"If there was money to be had, ANY." Answered Dr. Pastern. "Alright my soon-to-be filly, ditch the duds and hop up on the table. I'll get your anesthesia ready. Group A, as I recall."

"Roselyn?" Caprice already had her jumper half off; she was having a little trouble with one of the side buttons "Is there any way for me to experience the transformation - I mean, can I do this without being knocked out?"

Dr. Pastern stiffened and froze for a moment. She turned slowly, the look on her face pained. "You... don't want to go there, Caprice. It's not fun. Really, it is not fun at all."

"But wow, I mean, it has got the be the most amazing experience a pony can ever have. It's like experiencing your own birth into the world, your own creation!" Caprice seemed rather excited by the prospect. "I mean, shapeshifting, your entire body turning into a new body, like a werewolf or something! Come on Ros, isn't there some way you can kind of half sedate me or something?"

Dr. Pastern put both of her hands squarely on Caprice's shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye. "No. Trust me on this. There is No. Other. Way." The utter finality of her expression and voice made it clear to Caprice that if she wanted her ponification, she would be doing it Pastern's way.

"No problem!" Caprice instantly turned bubbly again. "You're the doctor!" Pastern removed her hands, and turned away, somewhat chagrined.

"Ok now, hop up on the table, Caprice." Lynn took the girl's pile of clothing and put it in a plastic bag. "It goes easier if you lay on your side. Less chance of falling off, and more room for... things to grow."

Caprice, naked now, sat on the table devoid of any modesty. "Darn, I wanted to do this standing on my head!"

"Feet up, funny girl. That's it, on your side." Dr. Pastern had a white cup in her hand. "This is the stuff, the elixir of ponydom. Down this entirely, and don't delay to savor the taste, which isn't all that good, or so I am told. Artificial grape, so they say."

Caprice held the cup "Woah... I'm getting some weird stuff from this!" She tapped her implants "It's not EM, but it's definitely screwing with the sensors. Also... damn. I swear I can hear singing. Sort of." Caprice stared into the purple goo.

"That's probably a reaction to thaumatic radiation. It affects the perceptions. You're wired up more than most people, so you might be having a stronger reaction. Just a guess." Dr. Pastern waited a moment "Second thoughts?"

Caprice was shaken from her reverie. "Sweet Celestia, NO!" With that, Caprice downed the cup in a single swallow. "Eww... it is crappy grape! Yuck." She made a few funny faces and then dropped the cup as she fell over.

Lynn and Roselyn moved quickly to push the unconscious girl closer to the center of the table, for safety. Caprice's already fruit-soft flesh squirmed around their hands; they had the uncomfortable feeling of pushing a skin bag full of snakes.

Roselyn returned her hand to Caprice's shoulder. Under her fingers, Roselyn could feel waves, as if on an ocean, rippling just under the skin. Soon the skin itself began to move. Then she felt Caprice's humerus deform and begin to migrate, under writhing muscle. Dr. Pastern pulled her hand back. She had presided over hundreds of conversions, but this was the first time she had ever palpitated a patient in mid-transformation.

Roselyn looked at her hand. It was unaffected, but she noticed that a part of her wished that what was happening to Caprice would have taken her over as well. She felt envy this time more keenly than ever. Not yet. Her time would come. Just not until she had done enough.

Pastern looked up to see Lynn looking strangely at her, almost with sympathy. She gave her PA a reassuring smile. "So, any bets on what kind of pony our wild child will become?" Sometimes they liked to try to guess, based on the personality of the subject, before the final stage.

"Well... she's really bright, that's obvious. Quick witted as they come. She knows her stuff, too. I'll say unicorn." Lynn considered for a few seconds "Definitely a unicorn."

"Oh, come on now!" Roselyn spoke with exaggerated scorn. "That breezy personality, that light heart - where's your sense of romance! This pony's going to fly. Pegasus, one hundred percent!"

As the human shape on the table gradually flowed into a more equinoid form, Pastern was glad to see the implants in Caprice's forehead detach, rejected by her changing flesh. The gelatinous mass excreted out long strands of artificial neural conduit and assorted sensors and nodes. As these augmentations were pushed out of the rippling body, Lynn, wearing gloves, removed them from the table and placed them in a biohazard unit.

Caprice now looked like a pony, her shape was fully formed, her eyes freshly unsealed. Lynn and Pastern waited for her coat to grow in, both enjoyed that part best. Lynn had once remarked that "It may be the same as 'watching the grass grow', but who sees grass anymore?" It was true. Grass, like every other plant, had become a luxury for the elite.

"Look!" Lynn pointed to Caprice's flank. Tiny hairs began pushing through the pale skin. At first it was hard to make out the color. As the awn hairs gave way to guard hairs, Caprice's coat color became obvious. Peach. Caprice had a light peach coat, soft and shiny, almost silken.

When the mane and tail grew out, they were even silkier, a stronger, much more intense peach color, with a slight wave to it. Her mane shimmered as it extended, long and luxurious. "She's... really pretty." Lynn couldn't help but touch the shining mane. "Wow. You gotta feel this."

It was true. Dr. Roselyn Pastern had seen more than a hundred people become universally comely ponies, but this one could just be the prettiest of them all.

Both, however, were surprised, and a little disappointed, when they realized that neither wings nor horn had appeared. Caprice was an earth pony, a curious result for a young woman who had chosen so many transhuman extra body parts.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Caprice awakened very gradually. She tried to move, several times, but found herself dozing off again. At one point, she could tell she wasn't alone. In and out she slipped, consciousness playing tag in her mind. Finally, she won.

Caprice found herself in a large room, lying on several blankets. Scattered around were several dozen folding chairs, as well as two stacks of large pillows. Her new eyes worked to focus on the large holoscreen that took up most of one wall, and on a speaking podium currently resting in one corner. As she became more aware she understood that the warm shape sitting on a pillow to the left of her was the receptionist. Bethany was her name. That was it. Beth. Someone else was there too, a young man. Blond. She didn't know him.

"Hello, minun pikku ponini. Welcome to your brand new life." The voice was familiar, somehow. Caprice thought she may have heard it on the loudspeaker, when she first arrived.

Oh. Yes. YES! Caprice raised her head and looked down at her front legs, stretched in front of her. Soft peach legs, with delicate hooves. She made her hooves gently clop together by rotating her legs slightly. She giggled with delight. Clop! Clop! She could feel the impact through the hoof, each really a gigantic, thick fingernail.

"How do you feel, sweety?" It was Bethany. Beth gave her a light pat on the flank. She vaguely remembered being stroked and patted while she was unconscious. It had made her feel safe.

"I'm... peachy!" Caprice giggled again, she couldn't help it. She felt happy, almost giddy. She tried out her voice again, testing it. "Peachy. Peachy. I'm a little peachy pony. My name is Caprice!" Her voice was different. It was more melodic, gentler than her human voice. She tried singing "La, la, la, laaaaaa." Caprice broke out in a huge grin. "Hey, I can sing now!"

"You couldn't before?" It was the blond man.

"No, I couldn't. I never liked my voice. Now... I really like my voice. La la laaaaaaaa!"

"I think you sing beautifully."

Caprice looked up at the blond man. "Do I know you?"

"My name is Alexi. I do the electronics, fix the plumbing, and help in the kitchen. But my best job is getting to be the announcer! MONSTER TRUCK PONY! I hear you were in the building at two. Maybe you heard me?"

"Yes! I remember. For that guy who ran away. You were awesome." Caprice smiled up at him. She found herself wishing he was a stallion. "You should get ponified. Seriously." She tried to use her sultry voice on the last word, but she wasn't sure entirely how it sounded.

"You're quite the enticement, I have to say." Caprice found herself blushing, something new to her.

The peach pony looked around "Where is Roselyn and Lynn? How long have I been out?"

Bethany shifted on her pillow. "They're both with the four o'clock conversion. There's been a bit of a complication, it's nearly six. Patient's still undecided. Anyway, the star in this room right now is you. Want to try to stand up?"

Caprice looked around herself, as best she could, and tried her back legs. It was cool how they folded, and how her rear hooves were right beside her belly. She wondered if she could touch them with her mouth. She could! Wow, she could taste her own back hoof. Awesome! As she brought her head forward she delighted in her wavy, bright peach mane. She whipped her tail around, and tried to hit Beth and Alexi with it. Hee! Even more awesome fun - she made Alexi duck!

"Alright, peach delight, enough playing." Alexi joined Beth, standing up. "Time now to try out those big beautiful gams of yours."

"Gams?" Caprice looked up, her eyes like oceans, green and warm.

"It's an old word for legs. From old media, old 2D movies. Try to stand up. We're right here to help you". Alexi gave her a warm smile.

Caprice wasn't sure where to begin. Then she thought, maybe the body knows what it is doing. Terrestrial horses are born knowing how to walk, and while Equestrians are not terrestrial horses at all, maybe some things are similar. She cleared her mind and relaxed. Then she just let herself stand up.

"Whoo! That was really good. I've never seen a newfoal just get up on the first try like that. How'd you do that?" Beth was clearly impressed.

"I kinda just let my body do what it needed to do." The peach mare looked at Beth with bright, stunning, sea-green eyes "I guess I got out of the way of it." Caprice was standing now, but that opened up the issue of walking. Maybe the same trick would work twice.

It didn't. But that was OK. Alexi was there to catch her, and feeling his hands around her belly wasn't a bad thing at all. She decided to not learn how to walk too quickly. There were all kinds of things to feel and learn. For the first time in both of her lives, Caprice found each moment a joy. She had never felt so fully alive within each moment.

When Caprice finally left Classroom A, she found the dinner crowd beginning to assemble. Miriam and her team had everything ready, so hungry humans and newfoals began to queue up and take trays. Caprice found she was starving.

Caprice strolled with unintended sultriness into the cafeteria; she couldn't help it, her new body felt like her every dream. Her senses, while no longer registering EM bands and magnetic fields, were instead simply satisfying; the rich smells of dinner and of the other ponies and humans filling her mind with a strange, animal joy. The gentle sensations from her hooves as they clopped softly on the floor somehow delighted her.

She stopped, the cafeteria suddenly silent, every eye on her. She hardly noticed, though. She stood, tail held high, eyes wide and ears tall, her peach coat shining in the light. But inside her, in that moment, all she knew was her own feeling. She was happy. No, not just happy. Content. The word was like a newly born foal in her mind, one she wished with all of her heart to nurture. Content. It felt warm, and soft, and quiet and wonderful.

The clapping and whistles from the diners, both human and equestrian, brought her out of her moment of realization. Feeling shy, she smiled a soft, embarrassed smile, peering out through a shimmering sweep of deep peach with gentle eyes. She had never felt so vulnerable, and yet so powerful, in her life. She moved on, following Alexi, no longer able to figure out all the different things she felt; but whatever was overwhelming her, it was... delightful.

Caprice sat on a pillow at a low table; these had been brought in by Alexi early on. He had felt that forcing newfoals to deal with tables designed for human use was rude, and he was good at procurement. Alexi could find things that others could not, and he was good at making friends, and deals, and thus it was that several low, Kang-styled tables uniquely graced the Bureau 042 cafeteria. It had been a brilliant notion; newfoals found it vastly easier to eat at a table that comfortably matched their size and range of motion.

She had gone to take a tray, but had been a little unsure of how to carry it in her mouth. Alexi would have none of that, she would have time to learn, two weeks to practice basic tasks as a pony. This was her first meal as a pony, and she should enjoy it.

Alexi returned with her tray, filled with all manner of assorted foods. There was the staple that was hay, of course, and alfalfa, mixed into a salad with carrot and celery strips and little slivers of apple. He had added a side of oatmeal muffins with raisins inside, a slice of apple pie, a single, imported Equestrian apple (so very coveted in the Bureaus), and a bowl of rice pudding.

When he returned with his own tray, piled high with lasagna, he sat down across from Caprice at the low table. Immediately he took his own Equestrian apple and placed it on her tray. "These are the very best. They're from Equestria itself, and there is nothing on the entire planet that tastes as good. You'll see!" and he gave her a smile.

Caprice looked at the extra apple "You...you shouldn't give me that... you should enjoy it. Please..." She tried to take the apple gently in her teeth, to move it back to Alexi's plate, but her teeth broke the skin. Instantly, she was transfixed.

She had grown up in wealth, before her father disowned her; she had known the taste of a real, soil-grown apple, instead of nanosythesized 'apple-like' slices. But this, this was an entirely new experience. The tiny drops of juice that hit her equine tongue spoke strange poetry; her thoughts were filled with endless sun-drenched orchards and gurgling brooks of sparkling water. The flavor was sunshine and dancing leaves, shaded groves of perfect, living trees.

Alexi watched Caprice's eyes half close, her head frozen in mid transfer, the apple still in her mouth. "See? I told you so. Just the best thing ever!" It made his heart glad to see the newfoal so happy. Alexi liked seeing anyone happy. To see such obvious joy, though, giving up even such a special apple was a trivial price. The peach-colored pony gave a shudder of pleasure, her eyes suddenly open.

Caprice put the apple back on her plate. "Sorry. But you can have the other one. I kind of bit that one." She seemed so ashamed! Alexi felt some part of him fairly melt. This was a cute one, no doubt about it. "I really want you to have both. One day, everyone will share these in Equestria itself. Right now, this is your very first meal. It makes me happy to see you glad. Please enjoy." Alexi started to tuck into his lasagna.

Caprice tried a nibble of hay. As she chewed, the sweet taste of lush fields in her mouth, she noticed she was still being watched by most of the room. She gave a happy smile to the diners. Two dozen delighted grins responded. Apparently, happiness was contagious.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Pastern was troubled. It was the almost the end of Caprice's first day at the clinic, and Roselyn had been following her progress. She felt a certain special responsibility for the newfoal, since she had broken usual protocol to convert her without orientation. Roselyn knew she had let herself be talked into it by the witty, clever girl, and that was the problem.

The witty, clever girl, with her entertaining banter was gone. Pastern had never seen such a complete change of personality - well, other than what had happened with Carmine. This was unique though. Where Carmine had experienced some terrible event, Caprice had changed from fascinatingly funny and abrasive to quiet and mellow. She was not unhappy, quite overwhelmingly the opposite, actually. Both humans and newfoals seemed to gravitate to her, just to share in the strange peace she seemed to possess.

While she no longer spun around spouting clever statements, she did seem to have a new way of being. Caprice's voice calmed the frightened, her singing lulled the sad to happy slumber, and her simple presence made others feel better. Where before she had been like a tornado of energy, now she was a gentle breeze that swept away every dark cloud, and when she smiled, the sun came out, and stayed.

But Pastern missed the wild creature that had first entered the clinic; more, she worried that this might represent some sinister side effect of ponification, one indicative of a loss of personality somehow.

"Lynn? What do you think of Caprice?"

Lynn was setting up for the morning Conversion. "Our peach princess? Everybody loves her. She's happy as can be. One of our most successful newfoals, I'd say." Damn, still not enough blankets. She'd have to have a talk with Beth. Again.

"She just isn't the same. When she came in, she was... funny. I really liked her. I don't dislike who she is now, I don't think that's possible actually. She's really sweet, it's just that..." Roselyn felt a little weird to be talking about this, but it bothered her.

"She isn't as entertaining anymore, right?" Lynn had 'the look', which always meant that Ros had missed something obvious. Roselyn sighed.

"OK, OK, what am I missing?"

"What makes the best comics and comedians funny?" Lynn leaned against a cabinet, arms folded like she was lecturing a slow child.

"Good jokes?" Pastern needed more coffee for this, it was early in the morning.

"No, pain. Pain makes people funny. Think of any comedian you ever really liked - I guarantee that the reason they are willing to get up in front of other people and make an ass of themselves is pain. Something about their life hurt them really badly, and their response is to get attention to fill some deep, dark hole inside." Lynn changed her position, the cabinet was hard against her hip "Caprice isn't in pain anymore. She's happy. She may be the happiest soul I've ever met. I almost feel sad around her, because I get envious. I wish I could be even half as happy inside.." Lynn drifted, reflecting.

Dr. Pastern thought for a moment. "Her comedy worked. It swayed my judgement, and got her Converted, which is what she wanted. Now, she has never been happier, so she no longer needs to be funny." Pastern checked the cups. "Her happiness is my loss, because I miss how funny she seemed. I was worried she'd lost something."

"She has lost something, Doc." Lynn gave Pastern a pat as she left to get more blankets "She lost her pain."

Pastern knew the problem was her own. Caprice was happy, well adjusted, content. nothing else mattered.

But Roselyn would miss the funny girl she had met, just the same. It was selfish of her, but what could she do. She was only human.

A Cup Of Fecundity

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Four: A Cup Of Fecundity

Miriam was having trouble with the carrots. Specifically, there weren't any. "Dorcas! Where's the carrots?" Normally, if Miriam wanted something, she'd get Alexi - Alexi not only seemed to know where everything was, he could also find a way to get whatever she needed. But Alexi wasn't available; Dr. Pastern had pulled him from the dinner shift to help one of the newfoals. Now Miriam had to rely on Dorcas, and Dorcas didn't know sugar from shit. Or salt, come to think of it.

"What, Ms. Harshaw? Dorcas was young, but not so young she should be such crap in the kitchen.

"CARROTS! I need the carrots. Where? Find!" Newfoals griped if they didn't get their carrots. Apparently carrots tasted sweet and spicy to pony mouths, and newfoals couldn't get enough of the damn things. Dorcas ran off, terrified, again. Miriam didn't mean to frighten the mousey little girl, but dinner was approaching, and the 'animals' would be restless.

Miriam continued prepping the ryegrass and fescue. At least it looked like ryegrass and fescue. Over the last six months, Miriam had become far too familiar with far too many kinds of fodder. 'Hay' was such a simple word for such a wide variety of plants. Even so, some shipments were difficult to perfectly identify; Bureau Supply struggled constantly to keep the clinics in sufficient pony food.

The ponies could eat nanorestructured food products, but artificial food tended to give them indigestion and made them horrifically flatulent. Natural food eliminated this problem, and it was a problem. The Earth was already low on oxygen as it was, the global level having fallen to 15% on average - pony methane left everyone dizzy in short order. Some Bureaus had air recyclers that upped the level of oxygen, but there often weren't enough recyclers to go around. Only the first 20 clinics in the San Fransisco Bureau had recyclers, for the rest, like clinic 042, it was actually cheaper to ship in real food.

The hay, carrots, and other ingredients were grown in huge hydroponic gardens. These had been set up after it became clear that Equestria couldn't be destroyed, and ponification had been grudgingly accepted as the only means to survival. Some produce was shipped in from across the Barrier; this was the most coveted of all. In order to keep the Bureaus from fighting over the superior, imported produce, much of it was randomly mixed in with the hydroponic material.

Miriam pinched and rolled some of the 'fescue' between her fingers. It did smell particularly rich and green. She nibbled a bit of one of the tufts. It was very soft, and had an especially fresh and green taste. The color was remarkably strong. It was possible that this was hay from Equestria. If so, she could expect compliments later, from the newfoals. She liked nights where she got compliments. Being head cook was often a thankless job.

Dorcas had returned with some white roots dangling in a bunch. Miriam just stared. The hell? "CARROTS! they're ORANGE for chrissakes! JESUS, Dorcas!" It was clear that Miriam would have to find the carrots herself. "Finish prepping the fodder. I'll find the carrots." Miriam took the daikon from Dorcas, and headed back to storage. It was going to be one of those nights.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Sharon was crying. She lay on her cot, huge sobs wracking her young body. How could he have left? She had trusted him. He said he loved her! But he just ran out. He had run out on her! "Damn you Tyler! Damn you! Damn you to hell!"

She had met Tyler on her way to the bureau, four months ago. The two had traveled together as part of a caravan making its way from the midwestern zones to the West Coast. Like many, they couldn't afford to ride the maglevs or take a transport, so they had joined a jitney caravan.

The small, often homemade vehicles ran on whatever was available. They could use alcohol, when it could be made, or sunlight. The perpetual smog layer made sunlight a slow prospect; often several days of charging would be required just to ride for one day of travel. Alcohol stills on the ramshackle buses could be used to produce fuel, but only if suitable organic matter could be found. Food was rationed, of course, and going hungry in order to power the caravan was a highly contested subject. Especially when the price to ride in the caravan essentially amounted to 'all worldly possessions'.

The Jitney caravans were a special breed, profiteers at the end of the world. What they expected to do with all the wealth they took as trade for transportation was unknown. What was the point? Some said the caravans provided resources to secret groups building underground bases. Some said the Human Liberation Front imagined they might survive the expansion of Equestria in such places. Others just figured that human nature was what it was: stupidly greedy, right up to the last breath. Whatever the caravan drivers wanted with the wealth of the riders, at least they did ultimately ferry them to the Conversion Bureaus.

The caravan had been stuck for a week just outside of the Salt Lake City Crater, safely beyond the radiation zone, once again out of energy. The drivers had been using small electric bikes to bring in boxes of supplies, including worldcorp rations. The usual arguments about hunger versus fuel had divided the caravan. They were just waiting for a break in the ashfall, enough to power up the batteries in the jitneys. That was when Sharon had finally embraced Tyler as her lover.

Tyler was much older than her, and so mature. She liked that about him. He always knew just what to say, he was so gentle and caring, and he made her feel safe, and protected. After all, as much as she hated to admit it, being sixteen made her a target, and Tyler was her Robocop. He was her Terminator of love.

She was glad she had run away from her parents. They were stupid, like all parents, but hers were especially dumb. They wanted to 'wait and see' what happened with Equestria - somehow they thought that Jesus would come back and fix everything. She was tired of the megachurch, and she was tired of their ignorance. Equestria was the best thing ever, couldn't they see that? A land of frigging magical ponies! You couldn't even SEE a horse anymore, except at the zoo, and going to the zoo cost more than daddy made in a year. But Equestria - it was right there! And it had a Princess, two Princesses in fact, and they were friggin' ponies as well! It was beyond awesome.

And there was no doubt the world government wanted everyone to go to Equestria. Sharon had argued that point over and over - the Bureaus had been set up by the government itself! Because they knew the world would end! There was no point in waiting! But her parents were just stupid. They were just hopeless.

When Sharon had realized that, really realized that, she became angry. He parents were trying to kill her. They would keep praying to Jesus until it was too late, and they would all die like the evil people who missed the Ark. Equestria was the new Ark. That much was clear. It was a new ark for ponies! It was heaven right there, out in the ocean, and her parents were too stupid to see it.

So one night, she left. It was easy. There was certainly no shortage of direction on where to go. She figured she'd head to the San Francisco Bureau, because she'd always wanted to see the ocean. She didn't think it could be as completely dead as everyone said, and even if it wasn't, she still wanted to see it. Water to the horizon! That was a pretty amazing thing.

Besides, San Francisco had one of the biggest Bureaus, and it was that much closer to Equestria. She wanted to get to Equestria as fast as she could. Who wouldn't? It was a magical pony-land, duh!

Tyler loved her. She could see them together, afterward. He would become a big, handsome stallion, and they would have a beautiful wedding with real flowers and the Princesses doing the ceremony and everything! It was like a wonderful dream, only it was real!

But now, all of that had fallen apart. Tyler had left her. He had run right out of the Bureau, or so Nate had said, sometime around ten. They had a big argument, and he just left. But she didn't think he would really leave. Sharon thought that he had just left to cool down. But then Nate said that he had run away entirely. How could he do this? Especially when she was carrying his child?

That is what started the argument. She had been feeling strange again, and had asked the PA, Lynn, to check her out. She was 12 weeks pregnant, and at first she was so happy. Tyler and her would be a family in Equestria. She could picture a little boy running around, and she would give him rides on her back. But then Lynn had explained that after Conversion, her baby would be born a foal. Conversion changed a pregnant woman into a pregnant mare, and the child would be Equestrian too.

And this was a problem for her. Her baby didn't get a choice. He would be a colt from birth. He wouldn't even know what it was like to be human. She wasn't sure he would even have a soul, because of that. Being a pony was cool, but she had been born human, so she knew she had a soul. But what about a baby born as a pony from the start? That was different.

Sharon was so confused. Everything had made sense, when Tyler was there. She relied on him to tell her what they should do next. Tyler always had an answer. Tyler... oh, god how she missed him. Damn him! She needed him. He should be here!

How could she go to Equestria now? How could she be a pony now? They didn't even have churches in Equestria, how would she get her baby baptized? What did they even believe there? Equestria seemed strange to her now, and she realized how little she actually knew about it. How did she end up here? Sharon began to cry again. She couldn't stop - everything had gone totally wrong!

When the announcement came over the loudspeaker, it wasn't Alexi. It was Lynn, for some reason. 'Sharon Marcella, please report to the Conversion Room' - only she couldn't. Not now. She didn't know what to do. How could she survive as a pony without Tyler? How could she choose her baby's future like that? Why did Tyler leave? Nothing made sense anymore.

"Sharon? it's four. It's your turn..." It was Lynn. "What's the matter?" Sharon was crying and Lynn tried to comfort her, and it was some time before she could even start to tell Lynn about what had happened. Sharon wept as she cursed Tyler for leaving her. She didn't know what she should do, or whether she should go through with Conversion, or what she should do in any case. She told Lynn at great length about her fears, about her family, her beliefs, about her fear that her baby wouldn't have a soul if it was born a pony, how she thought you could choose to be a pony or a human at will in Equestria, how everything was completely wrong now.

"I can't go back to my parents, they'd never understand! They'd totally shun me, and there's nobody else! I don't know what to do!" Sharon was surprised at how she could cry for so long. She felt like she had infinite tears or something.

Eventually, nearly an hour later, Lynn had the girl sufficiently calmed down that at least she wasn't facing a wall of histrionics. "Listen, Sharon, you don't have to Convert today, alright? Nobody is forcing you, it's always been your choice, OK?"

"But I want to do it - only I don't want to do it! I don't know what I should do! But if I don't then what? I can't live on my own out there!" Once again, the waterworks started.

Lynn sighed. Dr. Pastern would be past wondering what had taken so long. "I'm afraid we have strict limits on how long you can stay at the clinic. If you decide you don't want Conversion, and your parents won't take you, we need to contact one of your relatives and.."

"I don't have any other relatives! All I ever had was mom and dad. I don't know anybody else except megachurch people and they'll be the same as mom and dad! They'd never help me!" The girl really did have a gift for crying.

"Hello? Lynn! What's the holdup with our four o'clock....oh." Dr. Pastern was at the door, looking less happy than an hour ago.

"We've got a little complication." Lynn understated "Our four o'clock isn't sure she wants Conversion, but she also isn't sure she doesn't. She's had a little falling out with her... boyfriend. He left her. And... there are other issues."

"What issues?" Asked Pastern, eager to have this resolved.

"I'M PREGNANT!" Screamed the sixteen year old.

"Oh." Dr. Pastern thought for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the cot on the other side of Lynn and Sharon. "Listen, shhhh, listen. It's OK, it's not a problem at all, really."

"How is being PREGNANT and alone not a PROBLEM???"

"It's no big deal. Conversion changes the fetus as well as the mother. I promise you your child will be a perfect little foal when she arrives. I've seen it happen. I've helped newfoal mothers give birth. It's a lot easier than it is for humans. I didn't have to do anything, really. Honestly, it's no big deal." This should settle things, Dr. Pastern thought. A little knowledge goes a long way.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!!!" This was rapidly spinning outside of Dr. Pastern's comfort zone. The girl wailed and wept. What had she done wrong? The information was accurate.

"Doc, it's a little more than that. Seems she doesn't completely understand what we do here." Lynn let the child cry on her, as they sat on the cot. Her shoulder was covered in tears and snot. Great day. Just great.

"She's been here two weeks, right?" Dr. Pastern didn't understand. "She's been through orientation, right?"

"I don't think she actually paid much attention or even attended the classes. Apparently she spent most of the time in this room with Tyler, and..."

"Tyler? Tyler Derichs? Our runaway?" The scenario instantly defined itself within Pastern's quick mind. "If she doesn't understand, we can't convert her. Bureau policy is really clear on full consent. Call her parents for pickup and..."

"It's more complicated than that. Her parents are very religious, and it isn't likely they would accept her in this state." Naturally, Sharon cried even louder at this. Lynn patted her, as best she could.

"Then call up her other relatives. We'll just move up the schedule and..."

"No go. No other relatives. She literally has no where else to go." Lynn looked perturbed "We've got a problem."

Dr. Pastern brightened. "Clinic 013 has a brand new Foeta-Stract! Give me a minute, I'm sure they'll let us use it. We can rip that sucker right out of there, and she can go home sans occupant. Simple! It'll take all of ten minutes!" Pastern smiled broadly. Medicine to the rescue!

Sharon suddenly exceeded all previous levels of crying, and possibly the critical level for noise-induced hearing loss "Uh... doc, religious, remember?" Lynn gave Pastern the kind of look reserved for bad dogs that leave stains on the couch.

Pastern was puzzled. There were a lot of religions, none of them made much sense. Then she remembered that there were groups that had a problem with fetal extraction. She'd never understood that; surely nineteen billion people was beyond enough. But, there was no use talking to the religious. She knew that much. No room for discussion; arbitrary belief always trumped reason. That option was out. Dammit.

Pastern was stumped. Bureau policy was clear: all applicants would be accepted for Conversion, regardless of age, race, creed, or any other factor. Parental consent was not considered an issue; this was a terminus event situation. The only requirement was informed consent, except in cases involving abandoned children below the age of reason, in which case automatic Conversion without consent was authorized. The two week orientation was strongly suggested, but not mandated, which is why she had been able to convert the sudden new arrival Caprice at 2:00, based purely on personal judgement.

There weren't any social services anymore, beyond the basic Worldcorp minimum ration, guaranteed to every human being. Three liters of potable water and 1000 calories of nanorecycled food product. Nanotechnology had made it possible to keep 19 billion people alive on the ruined earth, but that was all. The rest was up to them.

Sharon could be turfed back out into the favela, and there would be no repercussions. It was the sensible, rational, logical thing to do. It would be the right thing to do, following Bureau policy. Her two weeks of orientation were up, if she hadn't bothered to attend class, then that was her failing. The Bureau was strict on this; after two weeks of orientation, it was Convert, or leave.

But she could not ever have orientation again. Two weeks was all any person could have, ever. No repeats. No second chances. And it would be useless to go to another Bureau, anywhere on the planet. The moment anyone steps into a clinic, every detail about them is analyzed by the Total Security Doorframe. Their pattern would be transmitted to every Bureau, and that is all the information that would be needed to permanently exclude a repeat.

The reason for this was simple enough; the Bureau devoured enormous amounts of the world's scant remaining resources, and the temptation for people to use orientation as a vastly better meal-ticket was absolute. Inside the Bureau was good, often fresh, often real food. Clean beds, Working toilets. It was a paradise inside any Bureau, compared to the hell outside. That was actually part of the plan; initial enticement for Conversion. The Bureau would not have that abused.

If Sharon was tossed out those doors, she could only expect to enter them again for one purpose; immediate Conversion.

However, this too presented a problem; Conversions were scheduled based on available resources, which meant deliveries of red cases to clinics. Caprice had been very lucky; bumping a Conversion schedule pissed everyone off and caused trouble with the Bureau. Supposedly, this would not be a problem forever; word was that serum production was being scaled up constantly. But right now, in the first year of the Conversion Bureaus, serum supplies were carefully regulated and not an unlimited resource.

If things didn't improve, Sharon might find herself more or less effectively locked out of Conversion if she didn't take the option now. Lynn was right. This was a problem.

"Lynn... I don't want to see her hurt, you know that. But.. we have a schedule, I have to account for every conversion, and the Bureau is really strict about no-go applicants." Pastern checked the simple chronometer implant in the skin of her wrist "It's nearly six now!" Had they really been dealing with this for that long? Dinner was coming up. Roselyn was hungry, and understandably, wanted this solved.

"Doc, Roselyn..." Lynn's face softened "...why don't we all just go have some dinner, hmm? Maybe with a little food in her, I can explain enough to allow her to make an informed consent. It's worth a try, right? I'm willing to take the time to do this." Lynn thought the world of Roselyn Pastern, but she could be a little obsessive about her job, as well as a little impatient for definite solutions. It was a trait common to the medical professionals she had met.

"Alright, I guess that's as good an idea as any at this point. But I'm going to bump the schedule if she can't make a decision by eight. Fair enough?" Dr. Pastern would have to deal with way too much crap if she didn't do a third conversion today. She'd have to fill out one of the lengthy online 'failure to comply' forms, explain all the details, and it could even result in a delay of the next red case - if they determined that she had 'extra' dosages left unused. It would be a mess.

Roselyn briefly considered Converting herself. That would solve the problem, and she would be free! No more corporation! No more Bureau, no more forms and lists and schedules. No more corporate politics, men in black nanomesh carrying guns, no more lieutenants and generals and...

The dream, the happy dream died. She couldn't escape. Not yet. She hadn't earned her passage to Equestria. Not yet. She wouldn't face Celestia with a stain on her soul. So to speak.

Eight o'clock. At eight, someone was getting converted - that was all there was to that. Bump everyone up a day. That was the simplest solution. So be it.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

"Alexi?" Caprice had finished her meal, except for one item. She had been amazed at how wonderful everything had tasted, and how different were her senses now. Things that would have been inedible as a human, such as hay, were not only easy to chew with her powerful new teeth and jaw, but had such complex, savory flavors. Every strand made her tongue go yum, and her stomach yearn for more. It was mere grass, yet to her new body it was more. But the apple.... oh, that was beyond good. "I thought that... we might share the apple together."

Alexi gave in. It was clear that it would make Caprice happy, and that is all he wanted. "I would love to share the apple with you, pieni ponini." Caprice smiled at him, and it was like the room somehow became brighter.

Caprice took the apple carefully in her mouth, and lifted it from her tray. This time, she was careful not to break the skin. She leaned forward so that Alexi could have the rare and imported Equestrian treat.

Alexi leaned his own head forward, and bit into the apple. "Mmmm...Very tasty indeed, thank you." As he straightened up, catcalls and whistles could be heard from other tables. Caprice found herself blushing again, a delight she had never experienced as a human. Alexi, she decided, was an interesting man. Far too interesting to remain a man.

She put the apple down. "I like you, Alexi." She had never been anything but direct in her human life, she was apparently the same as a pony.

Alexi studied her. "I like you too. You are very sweet, Caprice."

"No..." Caprice lowered her head for a moment, then met Alexi's eyes "I like you."

Alexi laughed, gently. "You have only just met me. For all you know I could be the most terrible of people. But I very am honored that you would say that."

"I have known terrible people. I know how they look, in their eyes, and the way they move. You are not such a person, Alexi." Caprice leaned forward. "Would you consider doing me a great favor?"

"If it were within my power, I would move the moon for you." Alexi enjoyed grand pronouncements even away from his microphone. "What is it that you wish me to do, my princess?"

Caprice looked at Alexi with a serious expression "I want you to take the serum and become a stallion. I meant what I said." It was very clear that she did; her earnestness was palpable.

"Just like that, after one meal, one date, you have made such a decision?" Normally Alexi would take all of this as some kind of joke, or flirtation, but Caprice seemed utterly intent.

"I am no longer human. My heart is not divided, my mind is pure and primal. I know what I want. I know who I want." The peach-colored pony filled his view, for a moment, his world became her bright, green, eyes. "My wish will not change. I am allowed two weeks here, as I understand it." Caprice took a bite of the Equestrian delicacy, then placed it on Alexi's plate. "I just wanted you to know." She gave a soft, gentle smile.

Alexi looked at the apple, lifted it, and held it in front of him. He took a large bite.

Loud sobbing interrupted both of their thoughts. Turning to look, Alexi and Caprice could see Lynn comforting a young girl. Alexi remembered that she was one of the applicants, but he had only seen her at mealtimes. He remembered her because She and Nathan were the youngest applicants in the entire group.

Lynn was trying to comfort the girl...Shannon? Sherry? Alexi couldn't remember the name. She'd hardly ever left her room. He vaguely thought she had come in with her father or something. Why wasn't he here? He always sat next to her. The young girl said something while holding her belly, Alexi couldn't make out what it was. Lynn said something back. The two continued to talk, the girl between sobs. Alexi turned back to Caprice. She was staring at Lynn and the girl, her ears directed like twin satellite dishes at the pair.

Alexi looked down at the half-eaten apple. He tried to think of what to say to Caprice, but first he needed to figure out what he actually felt, not always the easiest of tasks. He was attracted to her, somehow, that much he had to admit to himself. There was no denying that, despite the species barrier, pretty was pretty. But it wasn't just that Caprice was pretty, there was something that...

Suddenly, Alexi realized Caprice was not at the table. Wait, there she was. Caprice was walking slowly and carefully on her new legs, over to where Lynn sat with the girl.

Sharon suddenly found a head in her lap. The head belonged to a shimmery, pale peach pony. "Hello!" The pony said. It looked up at her with a huge, beautiful emerald eye. Wavy locks of gleaming, dark peach mane fell across her legs. "My name is Caprice!" Sharon found that she wasn't crying anymore. It wasn't possible to cry with such a beautiful, delicate creature in one's lap.

"My ears itch! Could you... scratch them please?" The pony smiled up at her. Without thinking, Sharon found herself scratching the pony's ears. "Ooooh! That is soooo nice!" The pony called 'Caprice' giggled. It sounded like music.

"Could... could you do the top of my head, yes, right there!" Caprice rolled her eyes back in animal pleasure, and Sharon found herself smiling. She couldn't help it. Caprice's mane felt so incredibly soft. Sharon began to pet Caprice, scratching and stroking her. This was the nicest thing that had happened all day. Her mind drifted, as she ran her fingers through the luxurious mane.

"What's your name?" Sharon was startled out of her sudden reverie. "Sh...Sharon." She had seen ponies before, of course, they were everywhere now, and during her last two weeks there had always been some in the cafeteria when she had come in with Tyler, but she'd never actually talked to any of them. She'd been too... busy... with Tyler instead.

"Do you know what I love best about being a pony, Sharon?" Caprice said the words dreamily, as if Sharon's constant petting had put her half to sleep.

"N-no." Sharon scratched behind Caprice's ear. She'd read in stories that ponies liked that sort of thing.

"I know that one day, I will get to live in Equestria, where it is always green, and beautiful, and safe - where everypony is kind, and gentle and takes care of each other. That's the rule in Equestria, and everypony follows it." Caprice opened her eyes and turned her head slightly in Sharon's lap, just enough to look at her a little better. "Do you know what the saddest thing about being a pony is?"

Sharon shook her head.

"Not having been able to have been born there. Not having been able to grow up there, surrounded by kind and gentle ponies, knowing love and beauty every single day. I would give anything if I could have just been born there from the start. Anything." Caprice had slowly raised her head while she said this. The look in her eyes, as she finished, was one of such intense sorrow that it shook Sharon from her own grief and made her want to hug the poor peach-colored pony forever and ever.

"I am so...grateful... to have been allowed to be what I am now. I have never been happier or more content in all of my days. I am just so... grateful." Caprice stretched forward and kissed Sharon gently on the cheek. Then she walked carefully back to Alexi, and sat down on her pillow at their low table.

Alexi stared for a little while at Caprice, who was still intent on the girl sitting with Lynn. The girl and Lynn talked for a moment. The girl looked back at Caprice, across the Cafeteria. Caprice smiled and nodded. Lynn and the girl got up, and headed in the direction of the Conversion Room.

Caprice got up, and suddenly Alexi felt a kiss on his own cheek. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Alexi." Alexi had no idea what to say. "I think I will go ask Bethany about what room I am to stay in. I'm a tired little pony!" Caprice gave a soft giggle, and trotted off, with more confidence this time.

Alexi sat at the table. He finished the apple. It was such a good apple. Maybe the best apple he had ever had.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

"I mean it, Doctor. I want to be converted." Sharon was already undressing, Lynn had explained the basic procedure to the girl on the way, in answer to her questions.

"I am glad to hear it, of course, but I am curious what changed your mind." Dr. Pastern had found Sharon to be allergen type B; she poured the right dose for her body weight into the last remaining white cup.

"Caprice talked to me. I like Caprice. I hope we can be friends on the other side."

"The... other side?" Pastern was unsure what she meant.

"The other side of the Barrier. In Equestria. Where I want my... foal... to grow up." Lynn helped Sharon up on the conversion table.

Sharon lay on her side. She put a hand to her belly. "We'll run together. Through the trees. On green grass. You'll know what flowers really look like." The teen smiled. "We're ready when you are, Doctor."

The Erlenmeyer flask now had 21 ounces remaining. Dr. Pastern carefully stirred the white cup in her gloved hand with a glassine rod. The viscous, purple liquid swirled and sparkled in the light. "Drink this, Sharon, all up, and then lay back down."

Sharon sipped the cup. "It tastes like grape soda. Only bad." Pastern motioned for her to finish it. "All of it, you have to drink it all, right now."

Sharon made a face, but finished the cup. "All gone." She announced.

Sharon's eyes fluttered as she lay back. "Be sure and tell Capri..." With that, she was unconscious.

The stages of ponification went normally during the fifteen minutes of Sharon's conversion, except for one anomaly; her abdomen became markedly distended for a while. Dr. Pastern and Lynn had seen this happen during the conversions of other pregnant women; Pastern had theorized that it likely represented a temporary increase in amniotic fluid surrounding the fetus, allowing more room for a secondary conversion process to occur. Lynn was of the opinion that it was a pseudo antigenic swelling response caused by some temporary confusion in the nanomachines as they determined what constituted the difference between parent and offspring, but the fact is that nobody really knew. It had been documented, there was no official consensus; there had been no funding allocated to study the phenomena.

Sharon's coat began to grow in. Lynn had offered that Sharon would almost certainly be an earth pony, she had spent the most time with the girl, so Pastern had no basis with which to disagree. But Roselyn didn't like a no-contest game of 'pick the pony' so she chose unicorn, just to be different.

Sharon ended up a bright orange pegasus with a straight-haired shiny black mane and tail. "She looks like Pokey! Except for the wings, of course." Offered Lynn.

"Pokey?" Dr. Pastern had no idea what the reference was about.

"From 'Gumby'? Old 2D show from before the collapse? They recently brought it back for the sixth time, as a holoseries? Orange pony made of clay?" Lynn rolled her eyes. Pastern didn't keep up with popular media.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Pooky. Yeah." It was clear Ros had no clue, but Lynn wasn't going to press the issue.

It was almost nine in the evening before Pony Sharon woke up. The anesthesia had strongly affected the poor girl, more than expected. Roselyn made a mental note to document that fact, later. Because of this, she decided to scan the newfoal, just to make sure everything was fine, which, as expected, it was. Pastern liked to be thorough. Not a bad trait in a doctor, Lynn thought to herself.

Sharon was filled with amazement upon awakening. She laughed at her orange hooves. She seemed disappointed in her mane, though. She had wanted to be all bright colors. Lynn suggested that Equestria probably had beauty parlors, and that she could dye her mane. If not, they certainly had magic, so anything might be possible.

There was a clop at the door. Lynn opened it to find Caprice in the corridor. "I wanted to check on my friend."

"She just woke up...how did you know? She's been out quite a while." Lynn was intrigued by the timing.

"I just... felt it was time to check on her. Hi there, little cutie!" Caprice's attention was now entirely on the still groggy newfoal. "What a beautiful, dramatic mane and tail! Wow!"

"You really think so?" Pony Sharon tried to focus on Caprice with turquoise eyes.

"Gorgeous, little filly. You'll turn the heads of all the stallions. I don't have a chance!" Sharon giggled at that. "Guess what, little pony?"

"What?" Sharon had discovered her wings and was staring at them in astonishment "I'm... I'M AN ANGEL!"

"Yes! Yes you are!" Caprice grinned up at Sharon on the table. "You're also my roommate! How about that! I've got an angel for a roommate!" Caprice did a sort of a little dance in place, clopping her hooves on the floor. "Heya, angel pony!"

Sharon laughed in delight. "I need a pony name! Will you help me, Caprice?"

"Of course. But first you need to learn how to walk. Later, we can think up names. Or maybe tomorrow. I've been kind of sleepy ever since my own conversion this afternoon. I had a cuddly little nap after dinner, but.."

"You were converted today, like in this day, today today?" Sharon was goggle-eyed.

"Yup! I was just before you. Happiest day of my life!" Caprice beamed at Dr. Pastern, and Lynn.

"I... I thought you had been a pony for a long time already!"

Caprice nuzzled Sharon's dangling hoof. "That's the second nicest thing I've heard all day. Thank you."

"What was the first?" Lynn was ever curious.

"Oh... that's kind of private." Caprice was blushing as she peeked up through her peach mane.

The First Night

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Five: The First Night

Dr. Roselyn Pastern put the sealed, Erlenmeyer flask carefully into the armored red case. The flask, containing 18 ounces of purple, nanotechnomagical plasm, fit neatly into a hollow in the dark gray foam that lined the case. Pastern then lifted the red armored cover, and laid it over the front of the case, making sure that the locking mechanisms were properly aligned.

At the top of the case, near the handle, was an active surface; this she touched to initiate case lockdown. The red case politely locked itself, an artificial voice indicating that lockdown had been successful. The entire clinic could now be destroyed, and the contents of the red case would survive, untouched. Such a comfort, thought Dr. Pastern.

It was late. Dr. Pastern placed the case on the shelf, and went to the door. Lynn had already tidied the Conversion Room for tomorrow, so there was nothing left to do. The reports were completed, all conversions for the day had been accomplished, and three more human beings had been changed into the strange, beautiful creatures of Equestria.

Exiting the chamber, Roselyn sealed the Conversion Room door with the swipe of a finger on the active surface built into the Maxium Security doorframe. It had been a strange day, and things had not gone as smoothly as they should have. Roselyn reached out to the right to close the 'boo-boo' room door, the infirmary, which had been left open. She liked things tidy.

Her first conversion had been a woman named Carmine, who had turned out to apparently be a sociopath. Conversion hadn't agreed with her. For two weeks she had lived among the staff and applicants, seemingly the most kindly and gentle soul among them. Upon conversion, she had screamed of her unworthiness, filled with guilt and shame, for the first time able to feel both. She had run out of the building, along with an older man, Tyler, who had been scheduled for the second conversion of the day.

The second conversion had been a walk-in, and Pastern had allowed herself to be swayed by the funny, eccentric woman who had bounced in from the ruins outside. After conversion, she had become the most elegant and peaceful of creatures, Caprice, who had in mere hours established herself as the darling of Bureau clinic 042.

The last conversion of the day had taken forever, with a pregnant teen named Sharon unable to decide, exactly at the end of her two-week orientation period. That had been the kind of unpleasantness that Roselyn disliked the most; sticky relationship drama of the basest sort. Roselyn loathed histrionics; they got in the way of effective solutions. Roselyn loved effective solutions.

Fortunately, her second conversion had saved the situation; Caprice had somehow convinced the young mother to undergo conversion at last, though very late in the day, saving Pastern a lot of forms, explanations, and trouble with the Bureau.

Roselyn was very grateful for that; now she wouldn't be up all night, and could get some rest. She could also have some time for her own personal need. It was something she did not want anyone to know about, something she was deeply embarrassed that any other person should ever see.

Inside her private room within the clinic, Roselyn carefully locked the door. She moved to the chest by her cot. Sitting on the floor, she told the chest who she was, and gave her security phrase. It was a quote from Aldous Huxley. She spoke in a steady, quiet voice: "Maybe this world is another planet's Hell." The chest considered for a moment, then unlocked itself.

Roselyn reached into the chest and lifted from it a worn stack of thin, ancient books. They had been written for children, long, long ago, and had been printed on actual paper made from the last of the trees. To a wealthy worldcorp elite, they would be the find of a lifetime, to a Pastern, they were a family treasure, passed down generation to generation. But to Roselyn, personally, they were her only peace.

They had been called 'Little Golden Books' and Roselyn's favorite was an ancient tome, faded and yellow, called 'The Pokey Little Puppy'. She didn't know why it held such power over her, but it did, and when she opened it, her heart sang and cried at the same time. Somehow, little childlike things answered some grief in her; she had wondered if she was mourning her own lost innocence. In any case, it was not something a respectable professional should be obsessed with.

That said, Roselyn desperately needed her little books about sweet little puppies, and kind animal friends. Even as the faded images nourished some deep, lost part of her, they also caused hurt, somehow. It was just that some days, her small collection was the only way she could calm her mind, the only way that she could sleep.

Today had been a trying day. Tears, as usual, ran down her cheeks as she began, in a soft, quiet voice; "Five little puppies dug a hole under a fence, and went for a walk in the wide, wide world."

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Bethany had removed the cots from what had been Sharon and Tyler's room. Originally Nathan and Tyler had been assigned there, but Tyler had immediately and quietly swapped things around so that he could have a love nest with Sharon. There, he had kept her isolated for his own benefit, enjoying the hospitality of the Bureau. He had planned to run in any case, once the two weeks were up; Sharon's pregnancy was simply last call to him.

Instead of cots, two thick, fabric-covered foam slabs had been placed on the floor, each with a comforter and a pillow. Ponies did much better sleeping on a low, flat surface, than struggling with a cot made for humans. The foam rectangles were too small for a human to entirely fit upon, but the smaller Equestrian form was perfectly suited to them.

Beth explained to Sharon and Caprice the basics of sleeping in their new bodies. "As newfoals, you have basically three ways to sleep. What I mean is that there are three positions that most new ponies find comfortable."

"Three ways to sleep?" Sharon thought this sounded very exotic.

"Sort of. You can lay on your side, that's pretty common. You can lay on your belly, like Caprice is doing right now." Beth indicated Caprice, who had folded her back legs so that her rear hooves met her belly, and her forelegs so that her front hooves curled up and nearly met her rear hooves. "You can also sleep standing up."

"Standing...up?" This was new to Sharon.

"There are many differences between terrestrial horses and Equestrian ponies. But there are also many similarities, and one of those is that you can lock your legs." Beth tried to show the motion of joints locking with her hands and arms.

"Our legs can lock? Like stick in place?"

"Basically, yes. I can't tell you how to do it, you'll have to try it out. But apparently it's pretty easy to do." Bethany leaned against the wall to rest her back. "Once your legs are locked, ponies can just go to sleep like that."

"Won't we fall over?"

"No, you won't. That's what the leg locking is for. You can just stay that way, and you won't fall over."

"Cool!" Sharon began trying to get her legs to lock. It wasn't as easy as Beth seemed to say.

"There's a catch, though, according to Dr. Pastern. She says that you won't sleep as well standing, as you would if you lie down, because if you sleep standing, you won't dream. Apparently dreaming is important, somehow." Beth straightened up, intending to leave.

"What about lying on our backs?" Sharon had given up on trying to lock her legs, and was now squirming on her foam mattress, belly up.

"If you like. If it works for you, great. But most ponies can't seem to stay comfortable long on their backs. Something to do with the way their legs are, or their spine or something. You'll figure it out. Now, be good girls, and I'll see you in the morning." Beth stepped out into the main room. "We've gone over how to use the toilet, how to get water, and now bed. Tomorrow there's a basic class on personal grooming; it would be a good idea to go to it. Oh! One more thing!"

Sharon and Caprice looked up expectantly.

"You should give Dr. Pastern a big thank you, Sharon. She's authorized you one more week at the clinic so you can have a chance to catch up on what you missed before. She's really sticking her head out for you on this one, so don't let her down, OK?" Dr. Pastern was a big softy, Beth thought, deep down.

"I won't mess up this time, I promise!" Sharon meant it. She wanted to be the best pony she could be.. for her foal.

Beth smiled. "Good night you two. Oh, and welcome to Clinic 042, Caprice."

"Thank you very much, Bethany." Caprice smiled up at the receptionist. "I'm sorry I gave you such trouble, earlier."

"Feh. You made Doc Pastern smile, that's good enough for me. G'night!" Beth shut the door behind her as she left.

Caprice swung her long neck, and moved her pillow with her teeth, adjusting it just so in front of her. She tried lowering her face into the pillow, but that didn't quite work. She moved the pillow closer, so that her nose and mouth were clear. Better. She tried laying her head sideways on the pillow. Hmmm. That kind of worked, but she worried she might wake up with a kink in her neck.

This was going to take some experimentation, apparently. Then again, it was an entirely new existence.

"Caprice?" Sharon was on her side now, realizing too late that her pillow was opposite her head.

"Yes, little angel?" Caprice decided to try laying on her back, just to see. Her legs hung over her. She tried to lay them flat, as a human might rest, but they didn't seem to lay flat, and it hurt to try to strain them that way. So that was the problem. Or part of it, anyway. If she had a much softer bed, then maybe...

"I wanted to thank you for helping me. I wouldn't be here now if you hadn't come over." Sharon's eyes looked wet; she felt like crying although she didn't understand all of the reasons why. She couldn't help a little sob.

Caprice rolled over and stood up. She tugged at her mattress with her teeth, and kicked at it with her hooves, moving it up flush with Sharon's bed. Caprice carefully lowered herself to the mattress, and moved her pillow again. Now she was lying on her side, facing Sharon. "Come here, little angel."

Sharon squirmed, hooves flailing over to Caprice, and snuggled into the crook of her foreleg. Caprice lowered her other leg over Sharon's body, resting it there. Sharon sobbed gently against Caprice's chest, her muzzle warm against the soft, peach coat.

After a while, Sharon stopped crying. She felt warm and safe next to Caprice. It was like she was a baby again, and was cuddled up next to her mother. Was this what it would be like for her foal, one day? "Caprice?"

Caprice gave Sharon's head a little nuzzle with her own "Yes, little angel?"

"We kinda left the light on."

Caprice raised her head and looked up at the active surface on the wall. It seemed miles away, and she was so tired. "Yes... yes we did." Caprice lowered her head and closed her eyes. It had been the most amazing day. The best day of her life. But it had also been utterly exhausting.

"Caprice?" The peach mare was already asleep. Oh well, maybe ponies sleep with the lights on? Sharon didn't want to move either.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Alexi settled into his large, foam bed. He had the best bed in the clinic, and probably the entire Bureau. It had taken a few unusual trades and barters to get the bed, but he valued a good night's sleep. He worked hard to keep clinic 042 in whatever they needed, there was no reason he shouldn't occasionally improve his own situation. Only fair, really.

Today, he had managed to get carrots at the last minute for Miriam, apparently Dorcas had forgotten to order more from supply. He had needed to agree to arrange for the San Francisco Bureau director to get five Equestrian apples with the next shipment, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to accomplish that. Nevertheless, he would find a way. He always seemed to find a way. Heh, he thought, if he were a stallion, that would probably be his Mark.

What would a 'procurement' Mark even look like?

He had also gotten Lynn her blankets, finally. That had been more complicated than he thought, but Sergei in 084 had owed him several pillows for over a month now; he had managed to convert that debt into blankets, after setting up an interim trade with clinic 064 for more toilet paper and the use of a plumbing torch for a week. The 064'ers always had trouble with their plumbing; that part of the old AppleSoft complex had suffered the most damage back during the bombing of San Francisco. Always somebody needs something, and always there is something another has extra.

Two hands shaking in agreement? No, an Equestrian 'cutie' Mark would never have a hand as a symbol, theirs was a world without hands, without humans. Alexi rolled on his side, and tried to imagine if two hooves could shake. Maybe if they pressed them together somehow. Did Equestrians even shake hooves? If he were a stallion, would they need someone like him in Equestria?

Alexi suddenly realized what he was really thinking about. Her. "Easy, there, boy. That's some strange territory, after all." He was surprised that he had said that to himself out loud. He was thinking about a pony, and he was thinking about her that way. She was not even human. Alexi felt a little creepy. Was it still beastial if the other party was a fully sapient being? Did such things even matter anymore? And what if he were a pony too? Did that suddenly make it all right? And if so, why? This was strange territory.

OK. Alexi. Let's think about this. He took a deep breath and rolled on his back again. She was a girl, a human girl, just this morning. Now, she's an Equestrian, a completely different species, but... she's still a person. A sapient, self-aware being. No, that wasn't the issue. He was just deflecting from the real issue.

She. Looked. Hot.

Admit it, boy! Be a man and just admit it. So, she had more legs that the usual girl. Hey, Alexi was known to be a leg man. So she had big ears. Lots of girls have big ears. Besides, they suited her. Because she was a pony. No. No. No. This was getting nowhere. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her walking away to talk to that girl? Stop it, Alexi. Warning. You are entering the weird place, where the weird people live, doing weird things.

Alexi had dealt with hundreds of ponies during the past six months. Half of them were females. Not once in all of that time had he thought this way. Some of the women who came through, sure, some had been really nice. Real 'lookers' as the old detectives used to say. But then they became animals, and pif - that was that. He had no interest in ponies. Why should he? He was a human man.

It was reasonable that... tastes... would change, once a human was Converted. Conversion changed everything, it was only reasonable that attraction would change too. That was just natural. Such a thing would have to happen, or no newfoal would ever be able to find a mate or raise a family. Only reasonable.

But, hyvänen aika! That tail swinging over that big round....NO! Alexi flopped over on his other side. ENOUGH. He willed his brain and body to behave, and began listing what he needed to get done in the morning. He definitely needed to solve the apple deal with the director, and maybe there was a way to help the 064'ers fix their plumbing once and....

Caprice was so kind. She was the most amazing person. The way she just helped that girl! And direct. Alexi liked a woman who knew what she wanted and said what she meant. She was what his grandmother had called a hyvä nainen, a good woman. Her heart was truly kind and...

Alexi rolled over on his other side. He would never get to sleep at this rate. All this was his fault. He had given the wrong impression. His love of grandiose gestures... biting that apple from her teeth - romantic, perhaps, but stupid. Stupid, stupid Alexi. She's a pony now. She's out of your species. She'll soon enough be out of your world, literally.

Of course. But... still... if he were a stallion....

Alexi buried his head into his pillow and softly screamed: Vittu tätä paskaa!

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Roselyn Pastern was dreaming. In the dream, she was somehow aware that she had experienced the same dream before. It was familiar. The general was there. He was explaining about how she had been chosen because of her paper. She had written a paper about her experiences treating the victims of the attack on the nanofactory. The technicians had suffered nanocoversion of large patches of their skin and limbs. She had made the symptoms and treatment clear for the general, and he was convinced of her expertise.

She felt like a fraud. She wasn't an expert on any of this. But the job, oh the benefits! She'd be working directly for the military branch of the world corporation!

Suddenly she was in an office. It was incredible. Everything was so shiny and expensive. This was how the elite lived. Metal and glass and holographic decorations, fountains with running water and carpet. Oh, the carpet... and there was real coffee to sip. She signed the holodocuments, of course she signed the documents. The security clearance requirements rolled past forever and ever and...

It was the room. She knew this room. There were the five men. She couldn't remember their names. She never knew their names. They were ugly men, dirty and mean and frightened. They had been shaved bald, and bound into some kind of restraining mount, not quite a chair, not quite a table. Their vocal cords had been paralyzed so they wouldn't be bothersome.

They were corporate prisoners. It didn't matter what for. They were the property of the government now.

One was looking at her. He had a large body and a wide face. His mouth moved at her, soundlessly. Then she saw the large spoon-dropper in her hand. The shaft of the tube held a cherry red, viscous liquid. She saw her hand squeeze the injector bulb and the red fluid ran to the tip.

The man was crying, his silent mouth moving. The general was by her side, waiting. The lieutenant was telling the general about how Roselyn was not fully committed to the project, how he felt that she was a poor choice for a top secret project of such global importance. Roselyn knew what happened to washouts given Umbra-Cosmik-Magik level clearance.

She was afraid, she was so afraid.

The man's head was being held, his mouth open. Two blackmesh corporate soldiers held the man's bald head. She put the dropper in. The general was nodding. She squeezed exactly one ounce into the struggling mouth. The next man would get two ounces. They were trying to find something out.

The blackmesh soldiers jumped back. The bald man railed against his bonds. His face contorted, as if he were screaming, but all that came out was a soft hiss. Over and over the man hissed.

And then his neck started to extend. His fingers began to glue together. Parts of him began to melt, and he was hammering his body against the restraints, faster and faster and his face began to turn soft, like dough, and his eyes began to sink into the dough and the hissing became a gurgle and the man was jerking, jerking, his twisting limbs shaking so quickly and then his hands stopped changing, and his neck stopped stretching, and his eyes just froze there, half submerged into his head, and he stopped gurgling and he stopped shaking and the man was just quiet now, and she was there, looking closely at his face, what was left of it, and it looked partly human and partly like the aliens from the dome in the ocean, and she thought he was dead now, only she could tell that what was left of him was still breathing, and the thing just kept breathing and she made the lieutenant laugh at her because she couldn't stop throwing up, and throwing up and then there was nothing left to throw up but her body just kept doing it anyway and the lieutenant just kept laughing.

A Cup Of Identity

A Cup Of Identity

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Six: A Cup Of Identity

Ryan turned and saw four brutish men step out of the ruined building. The Tall One held a chain, at the end of which was a makeshift spiked weight. The Tall One began to spin the weight around by the chain. "You aren't getting away you fucking freak."

The Fat Boy held what had once been a baseball bat; hammered through the metal were several nails, none of which looked clean. He just giggled, a horrible sound.

The Quiet One held a long knife in each hand. He moved like a snake, and his eyes held no emotion.

The last of the men was a woman. She called herself Robert, and she had killed people for calling her a girl. She wore no shirt, her sweaty, filthy breasts swaying as she walked. She carried a rifle, and she was their leader. Until a few minutes ago, she had been Ryan's employer. They were no longer on good terms.

"You don't have to do this. You have more important things to do, Robert. I'll just go away, far away. You'll never see me again. I've been useful, until now, this isn't good business, Robert." Ryan backed up a few feet, his stance a half-crouch, his arms close to his jacket.

"This isn't a matter of business, asshole." 'Robert' was a very vindictive woman, and she was known for extravagant displays of displeasure. "You know damn well what this is about. And you know I have only one policy with regard to freaks like you."

Ryan rapidly scanned the environment. He was in an open space between the ruined buildings. There wasn't any place specifically to run; wherever he went, Robert and her goons would follow. They likely knew this area better than he did. They weren't going to let him go. He didn't want to use it. He didn't hate any of them, despite their narrowness.

Robert was the primary threat. He didn't want to do it.

"Spread." At Robert's command, the Quiet one began to slide to the left, trying to flank Ryan. Fat Boy stopped giggling and moved to the right. Tall stayed near Robert. For now.

"Robert, end this. Just let me go. I'm not worth it. I never did anything against you. I never let you down. This is just bigotry. That's all this is." Ryan had to try. He did not want to do it.

"Fuck you, freakshow." Robert waved her arm. Tall began to charge just as Fat and Quiet started to move in.

Ryan pulled the pistol from the pocket of his oversized coat, aimed directly at Robert, and blew her head apart.

"FUCK!" It was Fat Boy "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" He kept saying the word over and over like some kind of magic spell.

"The freak has a gun, god damn." Quiet was no longer quiet.

"Robert's gone. She's gone. She's just gone." Tall seemed in shock.

Ryan pointed his pistol at Quiet. "Your move." Ryan said the words as confidently and flatly as he could. He could feel his intestines knotting up inside, and it felt like he would soil his pants at any moment. He stared directly at each of the remaining three, one at a time, while holding his gun steadily at Quiet. Quiet was now the most dangerous of the three.

"Hey, Ryan, whatever, right?" It was Fat Boy. He wasn't anywhere near giggling at this point "It was Robert's issue, not mine. Each to his own, right? Dude?" Fats overstressed the last word, and Ryan felt anger rise to empower his resolve.

"Go. Now." Ryan hissed the words, murder in his eyes. The three fled, each in their own way. Fat Boy ran like a child. Tall carefully backed away, until he could turn and vanish inside the ruins. Quiet stood still for longer than Ryan liked. Quiet was sizing things up. Ryan stared back.

Quiet finally nodded and slunk away, using cover without even thinking about it, movements controlled and precise. Ryan never let his gun waver, pointing it the entire time at Quiet, then at the last place he had been visible. Ryan stood that way for several minutes.

Finally he lowered the gun. His arms shook, and his legs felt weak. Thank god he had managed to find that one, lone bullet in the dirt last week.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

"Wakey-Wakey Eggs And Bakey!" Roselyn's Personapad had been singing loudly for some time. The holographic image of a cartoon chicken with a chef's hat floated above the pad, flapping its wings and swinging the wooden spoon it held in one claw.

Roselyn had not slept well; she vaguely remembered disturbing dreams and a bout of acid reflux. "Wakey-Wakey Eggs And Bakey!" She gave the etherial chicken a slap with her hand, which merely passed through empty air, but the pad recognized the action and the fowl spun around clutching a swollen cheek while crying loudly. Very satisfying indeed.

With the overly cheery wake-up call silenced, Dr. Roselyn Pastern set about her morning rituals. She took a swig of Nanorine, then waited the required twenty seconds for the molecular machines to destroy all of the bacterial biofilm in her mouth. She spat into her sink, and then washed her mouth out with water. It was a luxury to have extra water for such a thing, and it was absolutely one of the perks of her position. Water to drink; water even to merely wash out her mouth. Staff at the Bureaus were allotted double to triple the standard worldcorp allowance of water; Roselyn had up to nine quarts of potable water per day at her disposal. It was positively luxurious.

When she was dressed and groomed, Dr. Pastern made her way to the cafeteria. Breakfast was at seven, so she had an hour to get herself together. Roselyn had never exactly been a morning person, so every day she had trouble waking up. The early schedule was designed to prepare the applicants for what was almost certainly to be a rural, early morning lifestyle when they got to Equestria; it was clear that the corporate heads had no idea just how early the day began on a pre-industrial farm. That said, Roselyn was not complaining; having to get up at six was bad enough. She certainly wasn't going to set anyone straight on this matter.

Roselyn got her usual cup of 'not entirely unlike coffee' and headed up to the rooftop of the Bureau building. This was also her morning ritual; the hot, soggy smog of San Francisco stung her eyes and face enough to wake her up. The aftermath of Hurricane Misha would be fading now, so things were doubtless back to normal up top. Roselyn remembered seeing the edge of the Barrier of Equestria through the clouds the day before; it was an amazing thing to behold. She tried to imagine what it would have been like in the days before the world was perpetually shrouded.

The door was ajar, when she reached the top, and a strange breeze blew through the crack. The breeze was cool and it did not sting. She heard voices outside. What the hell?

Roselyn, holding her almost coffee, opened the door to find a small crowd on the immense roof of the former AppleSoft complex. There was Dr. Chandra from 013, and the receptionist from 041 - and Grosvenor, the Bureau director was there, as well as many others from all the clinics in the building. Mixed in with them were an assortment of newfoals, as well as preconverted applicants. There was a gathering on the roof!

Then she looked up and saw what had drawn the crowd. She blinked several times, her eyes unaccustomed to both the light, and the view itself. The sky was blue, impossibly, utterly blue. The vast wall of smog that she could see encircling the horizon was steadily being removed by what looked like several organized armies of colorful pegasai. Each platoon flew in a tight formation, dragging a cone of smog behind them, as though they were peeling the sky. Occasionally one such platoon would divert away from the widening hole in the smog and drag their cone of dark cloudy matter off in the direction of Equestria, clearly visible now, over the horizon. It was incredible.

Pastern could see nearly the entire curve of the Barrier, now, rising up from somewhere beyond the curvature of the earth, out in the Pacific. The sheer size of the Equestrian shield was impossible to accept. She knew that it was over four hundred miles in diameter already, which meant that most of it hung out into near orbit. The top of that curve would be in vacuum, well above the atmosphere.

Even more astonishing, Equestria was clearly experiencing night. Beyond the shimmer of the soap-bubble dome, she saw a black sky, and what could only be a moon. The dome was a doorway into another reality, one larger than the size of the bubble itself, and her mind reeled at the thought that she was looking through a gigantic, spherical window into an impossibly vast, alien sky. Whatever angle one approached the gargantuan sphere, on the other side was only Equestria.

The Barrier of Equestria surrounded a hole in space and time, a spherical, hyperspace window into another realm. It was far too early to be pondering that. Far too early. Roselyn had to turn away and look out over the blackened ruins of San Francisco. She sipped her near-coffee. It had caffeine, that is what mattered.

Roselyn took one last look at the blue sky, and the curve of the barrier. She forced herself to look through the shimmering wall, where that impossible moon shone against the black. If it weren't so bright outside, she wondered if there would be stars in that sky. She would have to try to see if she could be on the roof when Equestrian night happened to coincide with terrestrial night, and find out. Now that the sky was going to remain clear, or so it seemed, standing on the roof had became much more interesting.

But it had also become more disturbing - as she moved towards the door, she took in the vast sweep of San Francisco; burnt, blackened, covered in ruins. Where the ruins and radiation zones allowed, tiny, clusters of pale structures stood out bright against the devastation; the favela, the world-slum. Endless ramshackle homes for the hordes of humanity. Nineteen billion people on one tiny globe. Roselyn had done the math - it was impossible to convert them all, unless production of serum was massively increased.

She could not save everyone. But she could help those who ended up in her care, in San Francisco Conversion Bureau clinic 042.

The 'animals', as Alexi had gotten the staff to refer to the Applicants, were queuing up breakfast. Roselyn was hungry. She went to pick up a tray. Oatmeal? No, she had that yesterday. Ooh! Pancakes! If they weren't hay-based she would have that. Actually, with enough syrup, she might anyway. Life was good in the Bureau.

"Dr. Pastern?" Bethany was touching her arm and seemed concerned. "We may have a problem with our first Conversion. I think you need to speak with him."

"Can't it wait? - I haven't had any breakfast, Beth!" Dr. Pastern looked very unhappy indeed.

"He says it's very urgent. Listen, I'll get Alexi to get you something and bring it in. Maybe you can eat while you talk to the patient? He's pretty insistent. What do you want to have?" Beth wasn't going to go away.

"Awww....crap." Roselyn hadn't had time to look over all of what was available. "No oatmeal. Pancakes, maybe. And I want some juice, too. And syrup! Remember syrup if you get the pancakes. Where is.... whoever it is?" Roselyn hadn't even had time to check her schedule yet. Dammit.

"His name's Ryan Niequist, 26, he's the short one with the attitude?" Beth was pulling Pastern out of line, towards the corridor that led to the infirmary and the conversion room.

How could she be expected to remember all the animals? That was Beth's job! Roselyn recalled Caprice's cute behavior the other day, before her conversion, and attempted pawing at the air like a kitten, while making mewling noises. "Are... you feeling alright, Ros?" Ok, that was embarrassing. "Uh...um, yeah sure. Fine. Just... never mind." Leave the cute stuff to the actually cute; Roselyn made a mental note to never try that again.

Bethany led Dr. Pastern to the infirmary. "Ryan? This is Dr. Pastern. I'll close the door, no one can hear anything outside, so you can tell her your problem. In a bit someone will be by with breakfast for her, just so you know." Beth left, and closed the door behind her.

Ryan was a somewhat short young man, with rather delicate features. He wore something like cargo pants and a bulky jacket with the arms cut off. His brown hair was irregularly cropped short, possibly with some kind of sharp rock, or an errant bit of metal from the ruins. He had considerable musculature in his forearms, Roselyn noted, most likely he worked out on a regular basis. He had the usual tumors, one on his forearm, another on his cheek. He also had more than a few scars, from their location and severity, they were likely the result of some fairly unpleasant encounters.

"I need to talk with you." The young man seemed nervous, even jittery.

"So I understand. I'm missing breakfast. You're scheduled for conversion in an hour. So, what's the problem?" Roselyn's stomach growled.

"It's... kind of private. I don't want anyone else hearing about this, OK? Patient confidentiality, it still counts, alright?" Ryan's eyes shifted left and right, as if scanning for some attack.

"Whatever it is, I'll try to keep it confidential. But you need to understand that if whatever your issue is affects your Conversion - such as forbidden implants or illegal augmentations, my PA is going to be there, and those sorts of things just pop right out during the process. She will see, because she'll be helping me. But don't worry, frankly I don't care about..."

"No. It isn't anything like that. Nothing like that." The man seemed even more nervous.

"O....Kay. Then, tell me what it is." Pastern sat down in an office chair next to a hypernet terminal and tried to relax. She was really, really hungry.

"Listen, I need you to answer something for me first." Ryan was staring at her now, fairly intently.

"Yes, what?"

"Are you religious? What I mean is, are you with any of the megachurches, or the Islamic Republics, or anything like that?" Ryan sounded angry and strongly defensive.

"I don't see how that matters, but no. Actually, I'm pretty much an atheist, if that helps." Actually, Roselyn defined herself more as an agnostic, but atheist sounded cooler, and besides, technically, even if she did allow for certain...odd... phenomena, the strict definition should still apply.

Ryan looked relieved. He blew air out several times and slapped his leg, trying to calm down. "Ok. Ok, great. Great." Ryan paused a moment, considerably less agitated. "The goop - the stuff you use to turn people into ponies, OK? It works by DNA stuff, right?"

Pastern wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but she tried to follow along. "More or less. The ponification serum reconstructs human tissue into an Equestrian form using a template taken from the Equestrian equivalent of DNA. The nanomachine program starts with the patient's own nuclear material, then performs an iterative series of interpolations, gradually converting one template to the other, roughly speaking. Is that what you mean?"

"No. Yes. What I mean is, what you become is based on what you already have for DNA, correct?" Ryan seemed worried now. It showed in his eyes.

"Put simply, yes, that is correct. Even epigenetic traits can affect transformation to some extent; highly intellectual people are more likely to become unicorns, on average, that sort of thing. It's not any absolute guarantee. Oh!" Now Roselyn understood. THAT old issue. The kid probably wanted to be a pegasus or something. They always want to choose. "Listen, listen, I understand now. No, there is no way to choose which kind of pony you become. We can't make you a pegasus, or a unicorn or whatever." They always wanted to be those two, nobody wanted to be an earth pony.

"No! That isn't it. I couldn't give a damn about whether I have wings or can do magic or whatever!" Ryan's eyes flashed rage, briefly. That was kind of scary. "My problem has nothing to do with that."

This was getting nowhere. "Alright. Mr....Ryan." Pastern had already forgotten the man's last name, she needed food, dammit! "Just calm down, and just tell me, exactly, what you need from me. I'll keep it secret, if I can, and I won't judge you, I'm just here to do my job, which is to do Conversions. That's all. So just tell m..."

There was a knock on the door. "Just a moment, I haven't had breakfast and I am starving." Roselyn almost leapt at the door, and opened it. In the corridor was Alexi, with a tray.

"I got you pancakes, juice, a blueberry-like muffin and I threw in some berries. I don't know what kind. Oh! And I got you two containers of syrup." Alexi checked the tray in his hands "And butter. Is that good?" Roselyn felt like hugging Alexi, but she remained professional. Leave the cute stuff to the actually cute, she reminded herself.

"Perfect, just perfect. Thank you soooo much, Alexi." Roselyn feared the day that Alexi turned pony and left - she couldn't imagine clinic 042 without Alexi. Everything would fall apart. Food! She took the tray from Alexi. "Gotta customer, sorry. Bye!" Pastern closed the door solidly, then put her tray down on the counter next to the hypernet terminal.

In her seat again, she began squeezing butter out onto her pancakes. "OK, go ahead, just tell me what the problem is. Just go ahead, I've heard everything."

Ryan scratched the mess that was his hair. "Ok, doc. I'm a transman."

Except that. She hadn't heard that. 'Trans...man? Like a transhuman? Everybody's a little transhuman these days..." Syrup! Glorious syrup. Vaguely maple flavored but there was plenty of it. Oh, god that's good, she thought.

"No, doc. What I mean is..." The boy paused, forcing himself to speak "I'm a transsexual. I'm a transsexual man. I was born a ...girl" He said the word in the same way one would the word 'monster' "I went on hormones as soon as I found out they existed. I take injections of testosterone any time I can score some." That can't be easy, out in the favela, Pastern thought. Medical supplies were all but impossible for the average person to acquire.

Hmm. She'd read articles about this condition before. Gender dysphoria, distinct from intersexuality, but related. Neurological intersexuality, that was it. Babies born with their gender identity centers wired for the opposite sex. Occasionally there would be physiological evidence too... little things in the morphology of the body. She called up the term on her terminal, after licking her fingers. Mmm, syrup.

Yes...that was it. Chemicals in the environment, certain epigenetic alterations, there was some evidence for heritability but it was faint... ah, here we go; neural interface development had demonstrated that some brains were just wired contrary to the body. Typical treatment... hormones, surgery, for the elite, of course. But for most people... black market hormones, back alley clinics and the usual street surgery the majority of Mankind could afford. Rough situation. But... these people were really desperate. Matter of life and death to them.

Then it hit her. Now she knew the problem. Ponification serum defined the physical sex of a newfoal based on the existing genetic template. This was a chromosomal issue. Ryan was worried that if he was Converted, he would end up as a mare, instead of a stallion, and would suffer his original insult of birth all over again.

And this explained his caution, with the questions about religion and such, too. When the megachurches had been forced to accept homosexuality, they had seized on transsexuals as the new cause célèbre. That explained all the fighting scars, too. Ryan must have had a very difficult life up until now.

"Ever since my first memory, I knew I was a guy, Doc." Ryan seemed to have relaxed a little more, he was beginning to open up a little. "Even when I was just a baby, my mom said I acted like a boy. I just liked boy stuff, and I was a tough little guy, always hitting things, I was pretty rough and tumble. I played with other boys. That's where I belonged."

Pastern was stuffing pancakes into her mouth. They were a little 'green' tasting, which meant they were probably hay or alfalfa pancakes, but after six months at the Bureau, she'd almost developed a taste for the things. Besides, syrup solves everything. This was her new personal motto.

"One day I cut my own hair short, and insisted that I was a boy. That got me kicked to the curb, and I never turned back. I've done whatever I had to do to survive. I won't lie to you, I've done some pretty... questionable things. But I'm not a bad guy. Not if I have a choice. I've never killed anyone...other than in self defense, anyway. I won't do harvesting work. But I have ferried." Ryan was referring to the underground organ trade. It made sense; it would be the one of the few options open to him to have access to medical supplies, such as testosterone and injectors. Harvesters forcibly took major organs from people, not caring if they lived or died. Ferrymen transported the living organs to pickup locations, where they could be purchased for the benefit of the elite.

For a moment, Pastern felt anger towards Ryan, but then, what would she have done, if work like that was her only possible hope? She re-read the section on the holoscreen about the level of desperation of the transgendered. It was described as a never-ending agony. Suicide was commonplace in this group. Only sex reassignment cured them, and the options for the majority of these people were limited or nonexistent. Apparently, before the collapse, this was not always so.

"I think I do finally understand, Ryan. First, it's OK. I don't have a problem with you at all, and I want to help. Secondly, this is new to me. You are my first transman, my first transgendered patient, so you need to bear with me. Lastly, I think we may just have an answer to this already, but if not, I'm willing to try to find one."

Ryan suddenly flopped over in relief on the examination table where he had been sitting. He let out a loud sigh. "Oh, god, doc, I can't tell you what hearing that means." Roselyn could see his face tighten, as if he was fighting back strong emotion. "God....damn." Ryan blew out a huge breath.

"I'd better explain a few things" Dr. Pastern paused to stuff some muffin into her face, and sip some indeterminate citrus-like fruit juice. "The ponification serum makes a mare or a stallion based on the chromosomes of the subject. In your case, we can assume that it is likely that your chromosomes are double-X, rather than X-Y, so that means that if I Converted you as is, you would end up a mare. Not what we want." Pastern tried to give Ryan a supportive smile.

"So what do we do?" Ryan was up on his scarred, muscular arms, looking at Dr. Pastern hopefully.

"Sex is not entirely determined by the chromosomes alone. There are many cases of people being born a specific sex and gender, and later in their life, it is found out that, say, in the case of a male, their chromosomes are double-X, or in a female, XY. They aren't dysphoric, they are happy with what they are, it's just that their chromosomes are the opposite of their sex and gender. This has disqualified more than a few athletes in the old days. They must have been terribly surprised."

"And terribly treated. Any chance I could have the right chromosomes already?" Ryan looked extra hopeful.

"While it might be possible, it isn't likely enough to get your hopes up I'm afraid. Sorry, Ryan." Dr. Pastern looked uncomfortable. "When ponification serum was first developed, it could only turn humans into mares. It was a bright red solution, unlike the universal, purple stuff we use now." She looked down for a moment, then raised her head. "It was based on only a few templates, all of them Equestrian females. That early serum worked, but it was discontinued." Dr. Pastern looked sad, now. "There are, however, some bottles of it still around. Won't help us, though."

"There are also people who have extra chromosomes, or mosaic genetics, where some cells are XX and others are XY, scattered throughout the body. And countless other variations. Basically, Nature makes a LOT of mistakes. We have to account for that here." Dr. Pastern called up an image on her screen, showing two containers, one pink, the other blue. "Epigenetic Governors. These overcome those problems. Pink forces female, blue forces a male conversion. If someone comes in here with Kleinfelter's, or a monosomy, or triple X, or whatever, we can force the determination that ponification serum makes. Wait... I actually have a corporate directive on this."

Pastern began searching through a database, Ryan looked on in interest.

"Ah! I thought there was something!" Pastern seemed triumphant. "I just never thought I would ever see one of you. No offense."

"None taken. If you can help me." Ryan smiled.

"Let's see....in the case of applicants presenting as.... ok.... ah...there we are. Hmmm.. Apparently the world corporation has strict rules about dealing with the transgendered, and you will be happy to hear they support you completely. I am directed to assist you to conversion to your preferred gender identity, if possible, unless it would cause injury or disruption to...." Pastern read for a bit. "Basically, you have the corporation on your side, even if I were not. But you're double lucky, because I am willing to help you. No reason for you to be miserable as a pony."

"So what do we do? Squirt some blue goop into the purple stuff and I come out a stallion?" Ryan seemed eager.

"That's one possibility. But I want to be sure before we try that. Your situation is not the usual case of genetic anomaly or intersex. It's likely your chromosomes are normal, you just grew up with a brain one sex, and a body the other. I don't know for sure if an epigenetic governor will be enough. I need to research this." Dr. Pastern thought for a moment. "Tell you what... how about we switch your Conversion with whoever's at 2:00, and maybe I can have an answer by then. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Absolutely, doc! I can't tell you how grateful I am for you handling all of this in the way you did. Man, doc, I'm really relieved." Ryan flexed his arms and neck. "Whatever you need me to do."

"One question, though." Pastern saw that Ryan had hopped down from the table and was at the door. "This is kind of last minute. Why didn't you bring this to me at the beginning of orientation? You've had two whole weeks!"

Ryan looked sheepish "I only found out about the gene thing today. I was surfing the net on the public kiosk and... it put me into a bit of a panic, to tell the truth."

"I understand. I'll do what I can. Hey, could you tell Beth to come here for me?"

"Sure doc!" Ryan grinned widely.

With Ryan gone, Pastern could dig into the rest of her breakfast with total dedication. If only they served bacon. Oh....bacon. Why did the Equestrians have to be vegetarian? it just wasn't fair.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Ryan entered the cafeteria. Breakfast was over; the staff was cleaning up. He suddenly remembered that he was hungry. Talking with Dr. Pastern had taken a long time.

An older woman was pulling a container of what had been oatmeal from the countertop.

"Excuse me?" Ryan interrupted the woman behind the counter.

"Can I help you" Ryan saw her nametag said 'Miriam'. He'd seen her before, he'd just never noticed her tag until now.

"I...kind of missed out on breakfast. I was in with Dr. Pastern and... well, is there anything back there at all I could have? I'm not picky. Anything would be fantastic. I'm really hungry." Ryan's stomach growled.

"Ah, what the hell. Let me look." The woman named Miriam began to check the boxes and bins that had formerly held the day's first meal. "I have some nice alfalfa left over!" Miriam held up a number of wilted stalks and grinned.

"I'm not sure I could chew that. Or digest it. Anything... human food?" Ryan felt a little silly. He probably could have waited to talk to the doc after breakfast. He had just been so worried!

"Ah!" Miriam had moved several bins to the side "I have some muffin remains and a cold pancake, willing to take them?"

"Oh, god yes. Please." After living in the ruins, even scraps from the Bureau kitchen equaled fine dining. Miriam handed him the food remains on a paper towel. Ryan dug in eagerly. The muffins were good, and the pancake really helped, even cold.

"I guess you were hungry. Sorry there wasn't anything better in here for you." Miriam went back to cleaning up.

"Thank you...Miriam. Thank you very much!" Ryan gave his best smile, before turning away.

The food helped. Ryan felt better now, both physically as well as emotionally. He had kept his secret for so long at the Bureau, it was a strange relief to tell someone. It made a huge difference that the person he had told was supportive, and wanted to help him. That was rare, so rare.

It had been very difficult to keep his secret at the bureau. His roommate, Nathan, was fortunately young and not the brightest. That helped. Ryan had needed to come up with some explanations for why he 'liked' to sleep with his jacket on. There had been that time Nate had entered their room when Ryan had taken off his jacket, thank god he hadn't unbound his chest. Fighting wounds were the excuse he had given, and Nathan had seemed to accept it. Many times, Ryan had considered getting a street butcher to hack the damn things off, but he knew what the likelihood of survival would be.

Even so, there had been times he had come very close.

Ryan rubbed the short hairs on his chin. He hadn't had a shot of testosterone in almost a month, and he could tell that his damn body was starting to reassert itself. If he could just get properly ponified, his problems would be over. He would have a male body, as he should have had from the beginning. Hooves were just a minor detail, compared to that.

What to do while he waited on Doc Pastern? He had finished all the orientation classes. He was still hopeless at writing in Equestrian, and the language itself was impossible to completely pronounce as a human. They claimed that this early training would help, once he had a new brain, but he couldn't see how. Maybe being remade forced the old brainbox to be more flexible or something. He hoped so.

Not wanting to sit in on a repeat of a class, Ryan decided to hang out in the common room. There might be someone to talk to. Not everyone took the same classes at the same time.

The common room was immediately after the entrance hall, where Bethany the receptionist had her counter. The cafeteria was off of that, from the cafeteria ran the corridor that led to the infirmary and the Conversion room. On the other side of the dining area of the cafeteria were the restrooms, complete with shower stalls and many sinks.

The common room had many doors, these were where the applicants stayed. Large pillows, folding chairs, and a nearly shapeless couch filled the common space. There had been occasional activities in the common space during his two weeks at the Bureau. There had been a sing-along, various readings of stories and poems, and one time they had played with an inflatable beach ball, tossing and bopping it from person -or pony- to each other. That had been great fun, until it busted.

The couch was occupied, Ryan recognized the man there; his name was Logan. Ryan remembered several nights filled with strong-worded arguments; Logan enjoyed sparring with another applicant named Elijah. The topic was always the same; religion. Elijah was fanatically for, Logan equally opposed. One night had been particularly spirited; Bethany had been called in to break them up so everyone else could sleep.

Logan was sitting on the lumpen mass of couch looking forlorn. "Dude, what's up?" Ryan offered a greeting.

"That superstitious fool is being converted right now. I hope Equestria can survive his kind." Logan reached down beside him, he had a cup of something on the floor beside the couch. He sipped its contents. "Fehhhh."

Ryan took a seat on one of the folding chairs. "Equestria's a big place, and getting bigger all the time, or so I hear." Word had come from pegasai traveling to and fro from their new homeland, and they had much to tell. The great Barrier expanding into the Pacific had a counterpart in Equestria, a vast bubble that held a view of Earth. The Equestrian counterpart sphere was smaller, but corresponded point for point with the one on Earth. They were the same spherical hole in space, seen from either side.

The Equestrian counterpart rose from the sands of a vast desert beyond the green that most humans knew from the initial probes that had been allowed in. The lands beyond that green country were constantly expanding, generating more world within the Equestrian Realm. As the population of Earth entered Equestria, it was sent to these new landscapes, to colonize and inhabit them. This was where the untold billions were going, and with their colonization, the green boundaries of Equestria, the nation, expanded as well.

The Earth was being devoured, digested; it became more Equestria in that other space. The scope of it boggled the mind.

"Our world is large enough, yet only a handful of men have brought down entire civilizations. Cortés versus the Aztecs, the Franciscans throughout the South American Zone, The Muslim takeover of Great Britain - all of these conquests ultimately started with just a handful of men. I fear for Equestria, if men like Elijah become ponies." Logan stretched his arms and folded them behind his head. "Fortunately, I will soon follow. Maybe that will balance him in the scheme of things."

Ryan put his arms on his knees and leaned over, staring at the floor. "You two have really gone at it. Eli is a bit of a religious nut, but...."

"You know he considers himself a missionary, right?" Logan sipped his -juice?- again.

"He seemed to figure that he could save a few pony souls over there, I guess." Maybe coming here to wait was not the best idea, Ryan began to wonder.

"Souls! Saving! There we go again. See, he's going to shove all of our human crap down the throats of this new species. Equestrians seem blissfully free from religion as we know it. They appear to be a quintessentially secular civilization! The very concept of a 'church' is as alien to them as having a tail is to us. The last thing they need is our poisonous, ridiculous beliefs!" Logan was fairly upset, it seemed.

"What about the two Princesses?" Ryan felt swept up in the argument. "They're like goddesses, dude. They raise the sun and the moon, they paint the sky with stars. Don't the ponies worship them?"

"They don't. Everything I've heard suggests that the regents of Equestria are not worshiped as deities. Shown deference, yes, but there are no cathedrals to Celestia or Luna, and no pony prays to them. They are only ever referred to as 'Princesses', not gods, not deities, not as spiritual beings. And as for the raising of the sun or moon - that's an old trick; the Egyptian god-kings pulled the same stunt - the only magic is being able to get up early enough." Logan had to take another sip, going on like that apparently took a lot out of a man.

Ryan wasn't one to leave a fight easily. "What about magic? Wildflower could lift things with her horn, and you were there when she changed that plate into a vase. Magic, dude!" Wildflower had been a newfoal unicorn that had shown surprising talent right from the start, she had since taken the boat to Equestria.

"That again. Listen...Ryan, was it?" Logan was sitting up, excited at a new challenge "There is no 'magic'. Magic is just a word that is being used to describe some technology we do not yet fully understand. We're dealing with a whole new universe out there, and it likely has different physical laws. We have no proof that what unicorns do is 'magic', it may just be illusion! Or, there may be some advanced technology, some kind of Equestrian implant or augmentation inside those horns..."

"Dude- Wildflower's vase is sitting right over there! That's no illusion, look at it. You were there!" Ryan gestured towards the small bookshelf between two applicant rooms, on the top stood Wildflower's creation, filled with wilted stalks of hay.

"Then there's a molecular reconstruction beam implanted in unicorn horns. Or they act as an antenna to control some technology stored in Equestria itself. Some kind of 'Krell Machine', or maybe transporter beams or some such. But it isn't magic!" Logan was passionate, if nothing else.

This wasn't fun anymore. Ryan had other things to worry about. "Fine, man, whatever you say. I choose to believe that it's magic." Ryan got up to go... pretty much anywhere else.

"See, belief! That's the problem in the first place! If you rely on belief, you rely on arbitrary notions that..." But by then Logan was out of earshot, because Ryan had made for the entrance hall. He passed Bethany's desk.

"Everything work out between you and Dr. Pastern, sweety?" Beth was nice enough, if a little bossy, Ryan thought.

"She's working on my problem. She says she'll do her best to help. I just have to be a little patient." Ryan figured he might go for a walk.

"If anything can be done, Dr. Pastern will make it happen. She really is an excellent physician. Whatever your problem is, if there is an answer, she will find it."

That was good to hear. Ryan certainly hoped so.

Outside Clinic 042, Ryan found himself in the vast, echoing caverns of the former AppleSoft complex. A dry fountain with dead trees was illuminated by the morning light coming in through large windows crisscrossed by gigantic, diagonal support beams. That way led to the west entrance of the Bureau.

Metal stairs wove their way up to hanging levels within the huge structure, there, other clinics within the Bureau had their locations. Past them, all the way to the top, was the roof. It was a bit of a climb. Ryan could use the exercise, he felt the need to work his muscles and push himself; it cleared his mind. The roof then.

Ryan set foot on the first step and began climbing the stairs, past the levels of additional Bureau clinics. He remembered his childhood, back in Los Altos and Mountain View. His mother had tried to understand him, at the least she had indulged what she perceived as his 'tomboyishness', but his father... his father had been as bigoted and narrow as Robert.

Robert had been a good employer, for a while. Ryan had dutifully played ferryman, transporting organs to the agents at the docks. Many elite lived on enormous artificial island-ships, far out at sea; their agents were always searching for the things they wanted. Working as an organ ferryman made it possible to get medical supplies, and without regular testosterone injections, Ryan's traitorous body would revert. It was bad enough not having a penis, and having to strap his moobs down. But long enough without testosterone meant having a period and that was the ultimate indignity. No man should have to endure that.

Ryan would rather suffer another gunshot wound, than to have to deal with that. It wasn't just that it was messy and uncomfortable, it was that it denied his very self. It denied his very manhood. It was the ultimate insult that his cruel body could hurt him with.

Ryan picked up the pace, breathing hard. He liked to work his muscles, he wanted to be as strong as he could possibly be.

Robert had found out. Ryan hadn't expected such a strong reaction from the woman. She lived her life as if she were a man; Ryan figured that if anyone could have understood, it would have been his boss. But Robert had very strong ideas of what was right and what was wrong, it seemed. Apparently, it was right to take a male name, and be as butch as possible, but only if one never crossed the line between the sexes. For Robert these were acts of female empowerment, somehow, and she was very clear that she was a woman and extremely proud to be so.

When she had found out, by accident, about Ryan, that is when it had been decided to permanently terminate Ryan's contract. Ryan hadn't wanted to shoot her. She had really helped him, when he was utterly lost. But she just wouldn't let him leave alive. What was her deal? Why was it such a big issue that he didn't consider himself female, that he knew he was a man, whatever his stupid body was shaped like? Why should she care so much?

Why should anyone? Humans were insane. That was the only answer that Ryan could ever come up with.

The door to the roof opened to a strange sensation. It was cool. Almost chill. San Francisco was always sweltering, baking under a cloud of smog transparent to ultraviolet and infrared, if not to ordinary light. But there was no smog, and the heat was gone; blue sky stretched as far as Ryan could see. But that was not the most amazing sight.

A second morning was breaking within the vast arch that was the Barrier of Equestria.

Ryan walked quickly to the rail. There, beyond the curve of the world, inside that impossible dome, a yellow sky brightened slowly as a second sun rose into it. Ryan looked to his right, where Earth's sun was more than halfway to the zenith, then he looked south west again, towards Equestria, out in the Pacific. A second sun. It was bright, but unlike the sun above him, the Equestrian sun did not blind his eyes. He stared for a moment at the strange disk, and the bluing sky beyond it. Equestria looked like some kind of freeway tunnel into another world.

Ultimately, that is more or less what it was.

Somewhere, under that second sun, in that impossible land, was a second chance for Ryan. He thought about what it would mean to finally have his gender and his physical sex correspond with each other. He would just be normal. No more struggles, no more suffering, just normal. Like any other guy.

Well, like any other stallion. There was the whole non-human aspect. There was that.

But it didn't matter. Not really. Gender was identity, and identity trumped physiology. That was how Ryan knew he was a man, despite the contradictory opinion of his current body. His soul was male, if his body fit that, he wasn't overly concerned what species it was. Besides, he had to admit, the phrase 'strong as a horse' had to have once had a reason to exist, even if there were no horses on the Earth he could afford to see.

Ryan liked the idea of being strong.

"Hello." The voice was soft, delicate. Ryan turned to see a peach colored mare with a deeper peach mane. She was the one called 'Caprice'. He had whistled when one of the staff had bitten an apple she held in her mouth. That was a cool gesture, he had thought.

"Hi. You're Caprice, right?" Ryan always tried to be friendly, but his situation had made him of necessity a little distant. It was no use getting close to anyone - his history would inevitably cause trouble at some point.

"I am indeed! Whooo!" Caprice took in the astonishing vista of distant Equestria, far across the sea. It was full daylight now, the sky of the magic realm almost matching the terrestrial sky. "That's...home." The pony said the words reverently, but also with a dawning realization; it was indeed going to be forever more, home.

"Are you eager to go to Equestria?" Ryan was making small talk, he wasn't always sure what to say to others.

"No, not exactly." Caprice looked up at Ryan, her emerald eyes shining in the light of two suns. "I do want to go there, I want to live the rest of my life there, of course, but..." The equine looked down briefly. "...I am... waiting for someone. Until the last moment that I can. If they join me, I will have no regrets going... home." She seemed to be trying out the word, as though it had never had a meaning for her until now.

"The guy you were eating with last night?"

Caprice blushed, something she was getting used to now. "Yes. Alexi. I care very much for Alexi."

"He would be a fool to let such a lovely filly go." It seemed the right thing to say, and, Ryan had to admit, for a nonhuman creature, she was not unattractive. He supposed he should start to try seeing that more, considering what he would hopefully be in but a few hours.

Caprice looked at Ryan and smiled, but then looked puzzled. She sniffed the air. She looked at Ryan. She looked more carefully. Caprice lowered her head for a moment, a strange expression on her muzzle. Suddenly she brightened. "Everyone has something they seek in Equestria. I wish with all my heart that you find what you seek as well." She gave Ryan a soft, almost motherly look, and Ryan felt a very hard, cold part of himself warm.

The peach pony turned and left for the door.

Ryan wasn't sure what had just happened, but he had a suspicion. He had seen that look of puzzlement before, but never followed with kindness or love. Equestrian senses. They were better than human senses. Somehow, that newfoal had read Ryan, spotted him, discovered some anomaly about his body that gave his history away.

The old feelings of fear and anger rose in Ryan. But she had not reacted in horror, she had not given him grief. Her words were kind, and the look she gave him, it was something he had never considered possible upon such awareness; acceptance. Total and complete acceptance, devoid of judgement. No... there was judgement, he thought, but it had been decidedly in his favor. That was new.

He had not needed to plead his case, as with Dr. Pastern. Caprice had just offered support, as though his situation were commonplace. Dr. Pastern probably would have accepted him without preamble too, now that he considered what had happened. Was this just the sort of person Caprice was, or was it true that ponification changed people... for the kinder?

Ryan turned back to the south west. Equestria's sun was higher in its sky now. Ryan's stomach gurgled. The Earth's sun was at the zenith. It must be lunchtime. Ryan didn't want to miss a second meal.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Pastern was frustrated. The directive was clear enough, she should assist any individual such as Ryan to achieve their preferred gender identity as a pony. But trying to find information on the appropriate way to actually accomplish this was seemingly impossible. She had searched all the available literature on the condition, but it all related to standard, human transsexualism, and not to the issue of gender specification with regard to ponification.

There were the usual articles on the early tests, on the red serum that only created female Equestrians. She found information about the issues of chromosomal anomalies, and the development of the epigenetic governor additives. Hadn't anyone, in any clinic, at any bureau ever had to deal with this before? It seemed impossible. But then, the percentage of transsexuals in the population was low, they were fairly rare, and the Conversion program had only existed officially for six months.

Would the use of an epigenetic governor be enough? She knew nothing about what kind of options existed beyond the barrier, in Equestria. If the governor failed, Ryan would be stuck forever -as far as she knew- inside the body of a filly, and that, for most true transsexuals, was tantamount to a death sentence. Ryan would not tolerate a lifetime like that, if he was at all typical; his story would likely end in suicide. She had to be sure.

If Ryan had been a male-to-female transsexual, the solution would be easy. Clinic 016 had some of the old, discontinued red serum, one dose would solve everything, another victory for medicine. There was even a case report from one of the eastern zone clinics about just such a circumstance. But a female-to-male, nothing. Nothing yet, anyway.

Pastern had to face the fact that her Ryan might just be the first transman in ponification history. She just HAD to get this right.

Behind her, Lynn was checking their first conversion of the day, the man that had taken Ryan's place. Elijah would be waking soon, and needed attention, Roselyn would have to put Ryan's issue on hold again. She didn't know what to tell him. She had promised to help him, and so far, she was failing. He would almost certainly confront her at lunch.

Pony Elijah was beginning to awaken. It was almost lunchtime. Elijah was her patient at the moment, she needed to concentrate on his needs for now.

What on earth was she going to do about Ryan?

A Cup Of Theodicy

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Seven: A Cup Of Theodicy

Elijah Shaloe sat alone among 67,000 people and waited for Reverend Elymas to speak. The gargantuan Golgotha Covenant Harvest Megastry sermon hall arched overhead like a man-made sky. Huge nanostructured carbon tubule trusses rose up across the expanse of the great, flattened dome, meeting in the middle like the radial lines of a cosmic-sized spider web. The vast bowl of seats all faced a single, sculptured, golden dais, accessed by intricate, twin curving ramps. A lone podium was a tiny speck in the middle of the dais, a taller speck beside it was the Reverend himself.

Above the gothic dais and the ramps, the huge, holographic image of the Reverend hung in the air. He was depicted from the middle of his chest up, his smile the width of one and a half football fields. Reverend Elymas, his blond-and-gray hair perfectly styled, wore a fine, black suit. His genuine silk tie shone in the light, and his rings, when he raised his hand to calm the audience, were encrusted in gems. He was the pillar of the Megastry, blessed by god, with perfect skin, and perfect teeth, a truly perfect man.

Elijah lived for this moment; the moment when Elymas would speak, the moment when everything would become clear, when the world finally made sense. Here, Elijah could feel loved. Here, he could feel the joy of being surrounded by perfect fellowship, and perfect agreement. Together, the Megastry was one mind, one voice, one will; the will of God made simple and easy to understand, thanks to the great and powerful Reverend Elymas.

Elijah was not a stupid man. Unlike the overwhelming majority in the Megachurch, he knew quite well what kind of man the Reverend Elymas really was. He understood that the Reverend was a crafty, wretched scoundrel, and that the Megachurch preyed upon the innocent credulity of the masses in order to accumulate wealth from those that could afford it least. Elijah had no illusions about what the machine behind his religion did, or what it had been built to accomplish.

But that didn't matter because the result was genuine, and for him, it was the only joy he knew in a joyless world.

In that vast structure, when the music swelled, and the Reverend spoke, and the singers led the crowd, the love was real enough inside his heart, and he felt his God as a palpable thing; real and absolute and true. The fellowship that surrounded him, if for only that moment, felt real as well, and the ruins and the favela and the misery all vanished away to reveal a glimpse of heaven, a view of something better.

If such glory came because an evil man grew rich off the backs of the poor, so what? The Reverend would have a limited wealth in the end, while Elijah and the crowd would have spiritual riches to last eternity. When others of the congregation swooned over the mighty Reverend Elymas, Elijah just nodded pleasantly, to be nice. Nothing would be served by arguing against the man; again, it was the fruit that mattered, not the tree.

But one sermon changed everything for Elijah Shaloe.

Reverend Elymas had decided, at long last, to address the Emergence of Equestria. He had avoided the topic for some time, much to the surprise and disappointment of many in the congregation. If there was ever an event that needed addressing in a biblical light, it would surely be the sudden invasion of an alien cosmos that threatened the very existence of the world. This was not something that could easily be understood in terms of prophesy, there were no party-colored equinoid aliens in any chapter of the bible, or, for that matter, in any holy book.

How could such a thing be understood in the context of a all-knowing God? Surely, such a thing would have been important enough to mention, even as a footnote, in the bible.

Elijah himself wondered how Reverend Elymas would handle Equestria. A delusion sent by the devil? A weapon of Armageddon? The Equestrians were beasts of the field, would he cast their Monarch as the 'capital B' Beast, or as the great whore of Babylon? Hell rising up from below? There were so many possibilities, so many angles the Reverend could choose.

"There is, in this glorious world that God has given us," The Reverend began. "A people that needs our love, a people no less our brothers and sisters than any soul sitting here, in God's great cathedral here at the Golgotha Covenant Harvest Megastry. I speak of the rising of Equestria from the depths of the ocean, and of the peaceable natives of that distant isle!"

This was a great surprise to Elijah. This was unexpected. He had been certain that Elymas would denounce the strange creatures and their invasive realm.

"The love of our Lord knows no limit, no bounds. His love is infinite, as is the universe itself which he brought into being! I say unto you that Equestria is not some evil born from the devil, nor is it some terrible punishment; Equestria is a test, a challenge, and one that we must meet, one that we shall meet." Elymas paused to wipe his brow. The Reverend seemed weary and a little nervous, as though he had been leaned upon in some manner. Elijah wondered what had happened to him before he stepped up to the golden dais.

Elijah could also see that the crowd was confused - this is not what they were expecting, either. "Just as long ago, brave men of god sailed across the ocean to save the souls of primitive peoples on distant continents, bringing culture, and light, and God's mercy to them, so now we must see the plight of the Equestrian people -and they are people- before us!"

To Elijah's astonishment, Reverend Elymas extolled the worth of the strange equinoids, and offered that they were brothers under the skin, with human souls. To prove this point he talked at length of the Conversion Bureaus, and how humans could be transformed, not by magic or technology, but by God's divine will, into the Equestrian form. Not once did he touch on how any of this related to the bible as such, though the Reverend used many quotations from it even so.

In the end, there was fellowship and song, but this time the message was that the next step towards the Kingdom of God would be a step taken with hooves, and that in saving the Equestrians, Man would also save himself.

Elijah sat stunned. He would have believed any other sermon on the matter but that one. The throng inside the cathedral accepted the word of Elymas without question, and no person Elijah heard seemed the least bit confused at the end. Elijah wanted to scream that none of any of this had any correspondence in the bible, that the whole thing seemed bizarre.

But he calmed himself. He remembered his true beliefs, his spiritual center. He was an intelligent man. It didn't matter. It didn't matter because there had still been joy and fellowship and that was the point of it all. An alien universe had crashed into the earth; he had faith enough to meet that challenge. It wasn't in the bible, despite God supposedly knowing everything. There must be a reason; that he, Elijah did not know it was his own failing, not God's.

The world was dying, misery was everywhere, and the worst happened to the most innocent people, yet God was supposed to be Good. It didn't matter. Elijah had faith that there must be a reason even for that, and it was not God's failing that the reason was unknown. The message was clear.

Equestria needed missionaries to spread the word, and Elijah was just the man to do that. He would do that. He would go to his equinoid brothers, and he would testify. Not because the Reverend Elymas wanted it, not because the throng supported it. He would do it because no one should go without the joy he felt from his relationship with the creator.

After all, only God could make such a beautiful land as Equestria.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Caprice was making a terrible mess of Alexi's fine, foam bed. Her hard, peach-colored hooves dug into the foam, and that dragged the blankets and sheets with them, untucking the whole thing. As she bounced and pranced, the bedding quickly became a snarled mess wrapped around her legs. "It's SOOOO Bouncy!" She giggled.

Alexi couldn't be angry, he was laughing far too much for that. Besides, it had been his choice to allow her to come inside to see his room in the clinic. She was curious about how he lived at the Bureau, and she had told him that one could tell a lot about a person by how they lived.

He hadn't expected her to start jumping on his prized bed, however. 'Ei itku auta markkinoilla' he thought to himself. No use making a fuss about it. Besides, she just looked so happy. It was worth the trouble of making the bed again later.

"Oh!" Caprice had finally noticed that her feet were bound up by the twisted bedding. "Help?" The look on her face, part dreadful shame at making such a mess, part ineffable joy at such childlike fun, was utterly endearing.

"It looks like the little pony is caught!" Alexi laughed menacingly. "Perhaps now, I shall tame her and she shall be the prize of my entire ranch!" He pretended to twirl an evil melodrama mustache.

Caprice looked down at her tangled feet, and blushed very red indeed. "You already know... that I am yours." A soft smile played around her lips.

It was impossible to play an evil rancher after that. "Come on, little filly, let us get your pretty little hooves free from what is left of poor Alexi's bed." She really had gotten the blankets somehow tied around her legs. He gently lifted one of her blanket-shrouded hooves, and worked the blankets and sheets gradually off of it. This caused her a loss of balance, and he found himself with a face full of pink coat, Caprice's ribs and underline pressed into his shoulder and cheek. The smell was sweet and light, her coat soft and warm. Wavy locks of intense peach mane fell and covered him, soft as sunset clouds.

The hoof was finally free, Caprice set it down carefully so as not to cause more trouble. Alexi moved to another leg, and wrestled the twisted bedding free. Somehow, she lost balance again, enough that her soft weight rested once more upon him. He felt her sniffing at his back and arms while he untangled her other hoof. She made soft sounds of approval.

"OK, enough of that, you are free, I think, and so you must come down from poor Alexi's brutally savaged bed." Alexi backed up in the small room so completely filled with rumpled bed and perfectly shaped pony. "Awww..." Caprice complained, as she struggled, wavering, to step off the mattress without falling. "A gentlecolt would come and steady me, so that I would not tumble!" She pouted at Alexi.

"I think you would tumble only if I came over there again, and we would both end up sprawled on the bed." Alexi looked severe. Well, as best as he could. It was not a convincing effort.

"Harumph!" Caprice easily trotted off the foam and tried to brush past Alexi, on her way out the door behind him. But when she was half way past him, she stopped, her body pressed against his. She nuzzled his backside with her crest.

Alexi gave her rump a light spank. "Out with you silly mare, Alexi has much bed to be making now." Caprice trotted on, but stopped briefly just outside the door to stick her tongue out at him. "Now there is a lady of refinement!" Alexi grinned at Caprice.

"Double Harumph!" was the response, and then the last Alexi saw through the door was her wiggling buttocks and sweeping tail. Alexi surveyed the damage. He would need to tear the bed completely down and make it from scratch. And he had just made it moments before Caprice had arrived! But, there was no time. He was needed on the breakfast line.

When Alexi arrived in the kitchen, Miriam was shouting instructions to Dorcas, as usual. Alexi was set to making hay pancakes; soon he was blending alfalfa and fescue into batter, making a pale green mixture. The pancakes cooked up the usual light brown, mostly, and in time he had a full steamer bin of them for the line.

Bethany appeared behind the line talking with Miriam. Miriam came over. "I need you to take a tray over to the infirmary. Dr. Pastern is tied up with a patient. She wants pancakes, and whatever else looks good. When you get back, I need you on the line, serving, 'kay?"

Alexi grabbed a tray and began filling it with breakfast items. After six months, he knew Dr. Pastern's tastes pretty well; he considered himself an observant man. She liked syrup, so he got her two containers. Too much is always better than not enough, he thought to himself. Juice - she always has juice, if she can get it. He considered adding oatmeal, but something told him maybe not today. But the muffins looked decent, and he threw in some berries as well. If she liked fruit juice, she would probably like berries. He couldn't tell what kind they were, but if she didn't like them, at least he tried.

He started to leave and then suddenly remembered - butter! Pancakes needed some butter. There, done. He saw that he needed to hurry - the breakfast crowd was overwhelming poor Dorcas. The infirmary. Alexi was on his way.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Elijah had done his best during orientation. He had tried to absorb all the details about this strange land of Equestria. Four races of pony-people inhabited it; ordinary seeming earth ponies, winged, flying pegasus ponies, unicorn ponies, and the curious rulers of the land, the two princesses, which embodied the attributes of the other types.

Elijah studied Equestrian language the most though. He made preliminary attempts to translate parts of the bible into Equestrian. He was constantly stumped. The Equestrian language had no words for 'God' or 'Heaven' or 'Hell'. But the most problematic absence was any word for 'sin'. Oh, there were words for 'wrongdoing', and 'bad' and even an equivalent to the word 'thief'. But there simply was no word that meant the same thing as sin. It would be hard to preach the necessity of a savior without the ability to convey a permanent spiritual stain that unless forgiven, would lead to hell.

The best he could come up with was 'bad-shame forgiven by princess would avoid the being locked-up in nightmare banishment place' which just didn't manage to convey the right tone, or message. Worse, the term 'nightmare' seemed to somehow literally refer to some kind of actual mare.

And what could he do to convince these Equestrians that they should follow the Lord, if the only equivalent word translated to 'princess'. Apparently Equestria had no kings, either. It appeared to be a matriarchal society; the two Princesses were believed to be physically immortal, and had ruled for at least a thousand years.

This must be some kind of fable, of course, with successive generations of... 'alicorns'... taking on the personae of 'Celestia' and 'Luna'. Of course the story that they literally controlled the sun and moon would also be a myth; he was dealing with a highly pagan civilization, and this steeled his resolve to set them straight.

Elijah's time in the Bureau was made even less easy because of Logan. Logan Bertram was a thirty-something that seemed to delight in debate, and the one person he enjoyed debating with the most was of course, Elijah. The man was impossible, and somehow always managed to be around wherever Elijah happened to be. Avoidance seemed impossible. It was as if God was personally testing him by throwing Logan in his path at every opportunity.

Logan didn't believe in God. No, that was insufficient; Logan actively, forcibly, vigorously Did. Not. Believe. In God, In spirits, in anything that he himself could not touch, taste, or explain. The sheer magnitude of his atheism, if made physical, would have dwarfed the Golgotha Covenant Harvest Megastry dome. The full depth of his skepticism would have drowned even Noah, Ark and all. Logan was a faith-seeking missile, targeted squarely at Elijah.

"You CAN'T just ignore the problem of evil, Eli-jah!" The way Logan said his name always made Elijah cringe a little "It isn't enough to just say that there has to be an answer, even if you don't know it! It's a matter of logic!" It was late at night, a week before their mutual Conversion day. They were scheduled to be Converted the same day. It must be some fate.

"Faith isn't logical. Faith just is." Elijah was trying to be patient with Logan. Well, not entirely. The fact was that Elijah did enjoy prodding Logan a little more than he really should.

Logan slapped his head "Ahhh! Faith is just arbitrary belief. Piffle. You DO agree that for God to be God, he has to be all three things, right? Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnibenevolent - ultimately 'Good', right?" Elijah nodded. God could see all, he could do anything, and he was good. No argument there.

"So, Eli-Jah, If your god is omniscient, that means he already knows everything, including everything you will ever do, everything that will ever happen, and everything that ever already happened. That's what the word means. So, if he already knows, where is your free will? It's already decided. He knows what you will choose every time. So you have no free will. If you do bad, or good, how is it anything but fated? You get sent to hell, but you never had a choice. God already saw the future. That means the future is set!"

"Maybe God can just see what I might do?" Elijah was tired, but he still felt game.

"What you MIGHT do? How is making a guess being omniscient? Either God already knows, or he isn't much of a god, is he? He's supposed to be able to do anything - if so, why can't he see the future? But that's not the worst of it, Elijah - if god knows what you are going to do, if your choice is already made whatever you do, AND he sends you to hell, how can he possibly be good? What, he just makes people whose only purpose is to pack hell? How is that nice? How is that good?" Elijah was sure he saw flecks of foam coming out of Logan's mouth. Or possibly his nose. Probably both. It was kind of astonishing to see.

"Listen, Logan. I don't know why the world is filled with pain and misery. I don't know how God can be all-powerful and know the future and still let people fall into hell. I don't claim to understand such things. All I know is that God is love, and I know he loves everyone." There, that should settle things. Keep it simple and heartfelt. Surely even Logan could understand a heartfelt statement.

"Gahhhh!" Logan was slapping his head again. It was actually kind of fun to see him do that. "If God is good, shouldn't the world reflect that? Shouldn't life be good too? What point is there to crippling injuries even being physically possible? What is the good in blindness, or mutilation, or slow, horrible deaths? If God can do anything, how can he allow that? If he can see the future, can't he see this stuff and stop it? Why wouldn't he? Either he isn't all-powerful, or else he isn't all-good, or else he just plain doesn't exist!"

"Maybe God is testing us." Elijah waited for the tsunami of mouth foam to start.

"TESTING FOR WHAT?" Logan was pacing around the common room. "Testing for how much we can stand before we just HATE THE BASTARD?"

"PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!" Both Elijah and Logan realized that there was one person they couldn't win a debate against, and that was Beth, the receptionist. "ENOUGH!" Several of the Bureau applicants had their doors open; Ryan, the tough street kid, Tyler, the strange older guy, and Wildflower, the newfoal unicorn who was scheduled to leave for Equestria in the morning.

"Go to bed. Both of you! NOW!" Elijah sheepishly got up from the couch and went to his room. "Sorry... everyone." The fact was that he could have just left, but... he had gotten caught up in arguing.

Logan stomped off "This isn't over, God-boy!" That made Elijah chuckle. He'd certainly managed to rile Logan up. Heh.

Beth looked around the common area. "Show's over. Go to bed." Ryan closed his door. Tyler slunk back into shadow, his door creeping shut. Wildflower looked at Beth. "Thank you very much Bethany." The unicorn turned, her horn glowing. The door glowed briefly, while it closed behind her.

Elijah stumbled over clothing on the floor. His roommate, Jayden, was fairly messy, and left things lying around. He finally made his way to bed.

He sat in the dark, thinking. The fact was that much of what Logan said tested his faith, even if Logan himself was a buffoon. Elijah had often wondered how the world could be so cruel, so dark, so... arbitrary... if god was truly good. His only answer had ever been faith itself. He couldn't answer such questions, no one could, really. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that loving God made him happy.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Roselyn Pastern was searching the Vancouver Bureau database for any information, however peripheral, to the case of Ryan, her 'transman' patient. Somewhere, in one of the eleven Bureaus that had thus far been established, there must be something about a similar case. Her best angle of attack to the problem was the use of epigenetic governors. These chemicals installed methylated tags in specific places within the molecular templates the ponification serum used. This biased the resultant transformation towards male or female. Something similar happened when transsexuals took hormones, the epigenetic changes lasting a lifetime, once set.

Maybe that could be a direction to take? Sadly, hormones wouldn't last long if simply added to serum, the chemicals would be rapidly torn down by ravenous molecular machinery, empowered by Equestrian magic.

But... Ryan had been taking hormones as regularly as he could, as soon as he was able. Pastern checked his file. He was twenty-six. He said he had been kicked out at a young age, and began hormones soon after. She tried to estimate how long he had been taking testosterone injections. From the clear masculinization of Ryan's face, musculature, and skin, it must have been a reasonably long time. Roselyn re-checked a few articles on the subject. He must have been on hormones for at least two years, and possibly as long as five.

That might be enough. Ryan's DNA would almost certainly have had countless genetic switches flipped towards the male, locked in place by methyl groups. The physical changes she could see were permanent. As long as his body's original estrogen did not flip those same switches back, Ryan's cells would be operating according to a male blueprint. Hormones! They were likely the answer. If she could dose Ryan with sufficient testosterone just prior to Conversion, and if she added the male epigenetic governor to the serum as well, it seemed reasonable that the transformation process would follow not only what was in Ryan's blood, but what had been set as the default in his chromosomes already, thanks to years of hormone use.

It could work. She certainly had found no other case like his to base any of this on; but then the Bureaus had only just begun. Someone had to be first, and apparently, Ryan was that test case.

Suddenly she remembered another test case, a large man strapped to a frame, a corporate prisoner, hissing in terror because his vocal cords had been paralyzed. She couldn't do this! What... if she was wrong? But what other option could she offer Ryan? Some days, her job was anything but simple.

Lynn's triple knock let Pastern know that her first Conversion of the day was here. Roselyn put her work for Ryan on hold, and switched to her schedule. She had been so absorbed that she had not even bothered to see who she would be converting today. Elijah Shaloe. 23. Male. No implants. That was unusual. Most people had at least one. Oh! She remembered him... he was the one that argued all the time with the other man.... Larry...or something. They went at it every day, always about religion. That was annoying.

Well, ponification would sort things out.

Pastern had gradually come to the conviction that Conversion seemed to be the answer to most problems. Unpleasant people became gentle. Mean people became kind. Selfish people... well, they didn't always end up any better, but they did seem to be less annoying at least. But then, there was the incident with Carmine yesterday. She didn't seem at all happy with her transformation. That had been very unpleasant indeed.

"Welcome to the Conversion Room, mister...Shaloe. I'm Dr. Pastern, and I'll be doing your ponification today. Lynn is my PA, she will prepare you....let me see... allergen group A, you're certainly an easy case...let's get to it then!" Pastern turned to the counter and took one of the three plastic cups she had set out earlier. Reaching into the cabinet, she took out Anesthesone Alpha, and measured out the appropriate dosage of the anesthetic drug to match Mr. Shaloe's body mass.

"Alright, Mr. Shaloe, I need to ask you three questions first, it's standard procedure." Lynn got her autocuff to test the man's blood pressure and vitals.

"Call me Elijah." Elijah smiled at Lynn. She seemed nice.

"All right... Elijah. First, do you understand that this procedure will transform your body entirely into a member of the Equestian species, and that they are a completely non-human equine race?" Lynn had Elijah extend his arm, so that she could place the autocuff correctly.

"Yes. I understand. It turns me into a pony." The autocuff began to squeeze Elijah's arm.

"Second question!" Lynn checked the readings, a little high, but that was to be expected, considering. "Are you fully committed to this transformation, and are you doing this freely, without coercion of any kind?"

"Well.... to be fair, if the scientists are right, what other option is there? Equestria will replace the earth, right?" Elijah watched the newsfeeds. "Still, I do want to do this. I think I can do some good over there." If Equestria was to be the new earth, it would need men of god to be willing to live in it.

"Fair enough. Last question then.." Lynn removed the autocuff from Elijah's arm. "Do you understand that this change of species is permanent, and can never, ever be reversed. It's a one-way journey. Are you OK with that?"

The permanence had been an issue for Elijah. But then were not all living things the work of God? Elijah knew his soul would be untouched. What matter that he was trading feet for hooves? The road to paradise could be trod by either. " I understand that this is permanent, and I accept that." Elijah felt nervous. But then, that was only rational.

"Alright, then. He checks out, Dr. Pastern." Lynn turned back to Elijah. "I need you to undress completely, then hop up onto the table here. The best position is laying on your side. Dr. Pastern will give you a cup of serum. It's a nanofluid, and you need to swallow it all, as much at once as you can. It's only three ounces, but you need to get every bit of it down. Any questions?"

"I have one question. Wildflower, Silverbell and other newfoals talked about having strange dreams during their conversions. Does everyone have dreams like that?" This was something that Elijah had become curious about; the newfoals described their experiences in terms that bordered on the spiritual.

"That's actually something I've been trying to research." Dr. Pastern carefully poured three ounces of the purple nanotechnomagical serum from the large Erlenmeyer flask into a white plastic cup. When she was done, only 15 ounces remained in the flask. Pastern carefully stirred the nanofluid into the anesthetic with a crystalline rod. "Every applicant I have asked thus far had reported a compelling dream. What is even more curious is that all the dreams seem to share common elements. If you are willing, I would like to hear about anything you may experience during your conversion. I am thinking of doing a paper on the topic."

Elijah took the cup from Dr. Pastern. "Of course, doctor. If I can remember anything, I'll tell you about it."

"If the others I've talked to are any indication, you will definitely remember. The experience seems to be quite provocative, even life changing, and..." But by then Elijah was unconscious. The process was beginning.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Elijah was running across a vast field of green. Everything seemed soft and hazy, as though the world were made of clouds. Elijah could feel the wind in his face, and a great sense of speed. He had never felt so free, so light, or so powerful. The flat green plains sped past, gaining clarity and detail as he ran. It was a field of green fibers - grass! This must be what grass looked like. There were little yellow flowers in the grass. They became a blur as he found himself running even faster.

A great mass was moving towards him. It was composed of countless similar shapes, in all the colors of the rainbow. As they approached, running with him, Elijah saw that they were horses. No, not quite, they were like the idea of horses, somehow, sleek and perfect and beautiful. He found himself surrounded now, by the lithe, delicate shapes; long necks and graceful bodies pounding hooves as they ran. It was then that Elijah noticed that he himself was like them, he was one of them, his own hooves hammering the grass, his tail a flag in the wind.

He and the herd of unearthly creatures were running towards a brightening horizon, as though running from night into day. The world grew brighter and brighter until Elijah thought that he could not bear such brilliance, yet he was not blinded, and his eyes did not hurt him.

Suddenly, the green field abruptly ended, the horse-like beings parting on either side of him, fading into somewhere his eyes could not follow. Elijah found himself running on air, his hooves moving silently. He had passed into a vast chamber, larger than anything he had ever seen. It was a sky, and it surrounded him in every direction, above and below. Half of the immense space was a sky of night, the other of day, and inbetween a twilight band of many colors. Elijah felt weightless, and his eyes searched for anything that could help him determine up from down.

He somehow knew he was not alone. A tremendous presence was there, filling the shining space he floated through. Finally, he saw. Two impossibly huge shapes, one bright, the other dark, came into focus, each as large as worlds. He had seen these beings before, on the newsfeeds; the two princesses of Equestria, Celestia and Luna. Elijah was filled with wonder and awe, but curiously he felt no fear. He should feel fear at such a sight, he thought, but he did not. Instead he simply marveled.

Instantly, Elijah found himself sitting. He was at a table, staring at a delicate, porcelain cup. Golden liquid filled the cup. It smelled wonderful. "More tea?" The voice was soft and gentle, yet unutterably powerful. Elijah raised his gaze to see a silver teapot, glowing with a gentle light, hovering over the cup in front of him. Behind the teapot, across the small table, sat Celestia, beside her was Luna. Now they were of normal size, only twice as large as himself.

"It's really very good tea. Tell me what you think of it." Celestia's voice was warm and comforting. He felt as if he were sitting with close friends, friends he had known all of his life.

Elijah looked down again at the cup. In it, the golden tea smelled of flower-covered meadows and soft, warm breezes. He didn't know how to drink from the cup, because he had no hands, only hooves. He was still a horse...no, he was a pony. A pony stallion, sitting on a short, padded stool. Elijah thought of trying to use his front legs to lift the cup, but that seemed improper. You don't drink tea with your legs.

"Go on! Thou shalt find it delightful!" It was Luna, her voice kind, but more commanding.

Elijah looked up. The two princesses waited, patiently. What was he to do? Finally, Elijah did the only thing he could think of, he lowered his head and took a sip from the cup as it sat on the table. "Good!" It was the voice of Celestia.

Warmth filled Elijah's belly, and spread through his limbs. The tea was indeed good, beyond good. It filled his senses; the flavor permeated his being. It spoke of beautiful forests and endless grasslands, of high peaks and exquisite, clear skies. But it also sang; of close friends and warm embraces, of quiet moments of peace, and gentle hours of perfect contentment.

Elijah started from his reverie and looked up suddenly. "You are God, aren't you?" Elijah bowed his head, and began to pray.

"Oh, stop that. We'll have none of that here." Elijah found himself staring at Celestia. "It's very hard to enjoy a nice cup of tea with fuss like that going on."

"But... you're... I thought I'm supposed to..." Elijah felt confused.

"Did you like the tea?" Celestia seemed amused, but also serious.

"Y-yes... it was wonderful. It was the best thing I've ever tasted." This was true. It was also the best feeling Elijah had ever felt. He thought he had known what peace was, what contentment was, but that one sip had put everything he had ever felt to shame.

"I like it too." Celestia smiled at him.

"But... I don't know what to do! Aren't I supposed to praise you? Aren't I supposed to worship you? What do you want me to do?"

"Thou may'st bow if thou wish, should thou meet us one day. Didst thou like the tea?" Luna studied him with curious eyes.

"Yes, I really did. I wish I could drink it every day."

Celestia leaned over, as though imparting some great secret of the universe itself. "Then that is what you should do."

Elijah looked down, into the cup, where an amount of golden liquid remained. More was poured in. Elijah lowered his head and...

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Elijah felt strange. He was lying on his side, falling in and out of consciousness. His legs felt numb, but sensation was returning. He craned his neck to look at his feet. It took more time than it should have, as if his neck was much longer than it had been. He had no feet! In their place were shining new hooves.

No, wait. Those were but his front hooves. Elijah could make out a second pair of hooves beyond the first. In place of arms he now had front legs.

He really was a stallion.

He was covered in a light tan coat, the color of sand. The short hair that covered his limbs felt warm and comfortable. Elijah twitched his tail without thinking; he was amazed at the sensation. He began flopping his tail up and down, making a swishing thump each time it impacted the table. He felt the shock run up his spine.

The face of Dr. Pastern came into view, bending over to meet his gaze. "How are you feeling?"

Elijah made mumbling sounds. He concentrated on his mouth. It was new. He could feel that his tongue was much longer, to fit his much larger jaw. His back teeth felt huge and flat. His front teeth were smooth and something was missing. Canines. That's right, he was a compulsory vegetarian now - there was no need for pointed teeth shaped to tear and rend flesh.

With some effort, Elijah began forming words. It became easier the more he used his new mouth. "Aygn fygn. Aymm fyme. Fine. I am fine."

"Excellent! Welcome to... to the herd, I suppose." Dr. Pastern seemed to think her quip was clever. "You're an earth pony, in case you are curious. Sorry, no horn or wings, but you do get fantastic strength and endurance. Supposedly, earth ponies have some kind of power over living things; I guess you'll find out about that eventually on your own." Pastern gave Elijah a light pat on the rump. "Just rest for a bit, until you feel ready to try to stand up.

"I... had a dream, doctor. No. I had a vision. It was a vision." Elijah could still taste the supernal tea in his mouth, he could still smell it in his nostrils. "Did... did I disappear or anything?"

Dr. Pastern laughed. "Heavens, no! That must have been a hell of a dream. I assure you that you've been on this table all the time, just like everyone else." Pastern peered intently at Elijah. "Lynn, take down that the subject has a tan coat, white mane and tail, and... burgundy eyes. Reddish brown... no, use 'burgundy', sounds prettier. Um, handsomer." The doctor gave Elijah a wink.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Ryan carried his tray, looking around the cafeteria. He wanted to talk with Dr. Pastern, to see if she had discovered anything that might help his... situation. The peach pony he had met on the roof was sitting with the Bureau... handyman? That must be the Alexi she had mentioned. The two seemed to be laughing about something. Ryan felt his usual, brief wave of envy regarding any man who could live a normal life. Well, as normal as any man could, in a world filled with magical ponies.

A new pony had joined the lunch crowd, to much fanfare. That would be the one called Elijah, taking unsteady steps into the cafeteria, supported by Lynn. Morning Conversion meant a lunchtime hurrah, as everyone seemed to want to watch the newest newfoal taste their first bites of pony food. It was pretty interesting. Watching animals eat just seemed to be something humans liked to do, and there was the fascination of imagining possessing new senses. Ryan had tried a taste of hay, and he couldn't imagine ever liking the stuff. Yet, apparently, newfoals had their sensations so altered that they couldn't get enough of it.

Perhaps 'First Meal As A Pony' was the lure of exploring a new world, open only to the Converted. A world made wondrous again, through fresh, new eyes. Or in this case, tastebuds.

Doc Pastern was nowhere to be seen. Hmm. There was one place he could try. The infirmary. He could also try knocking on the metal Conversion Room door. Ryan carried his tray down the corridor.

Both doors were closed. Ryan balanced his tray on one hand and gave a knock on the infirmary door with his other. "Just a moment!" It was Dr. Pastern.

The door opened. "Ah... I kind of expected you. Come in Ryan, I have a possible solution, but we need to talk about it. Mind eating lunch in here?" Ryan didn't mind at all. He was far more interested in what Dr. Pastern had to say.

"OK, Ryan," Pastern took a bite of her veggie-burger. "Here's the deal. You, apparently, are the very first recorded female-to-male transsexual in the history of the Conversion Bureaus. Congratulations on making history."

"It's not an honor I really want to have." Ryan always squirmed a little inside, whenever his... situation... was put into concrete terms. He liked to try to ignore it as much as possible.

Pastern drank some kind of orange beverage. Soda? "There was a case back east of a male-to-female, they used the old experimental serum, she turned out fine. But that won't work for your case. I have to lay it on the line; we're in uncharted territory here." Pastern put down her food and looked directly at Ryan. "I wish I could guarantee that things will work out. I wish I had some precedent that applied here. The rock bottom fact of it is that whatever we do is going to be an experiment, a best guess. I can turn you into a pony, that is not an issue. But the sex you will end up as - I honestly think I have an answer that could work. But you need to understand that I cannot promise you that it will work. I'm sorry."

Ryan clenched his fists. It was hard to hear that. But it was clear that Pastern was doing her best. "I understand, doc."

"Now, you could wait. You've done your two weeks, you could come back for immediate Conversion at a later date. Maybe someone else would have played guinea pig in that time. Maybe there might be a breakthrough. But there is a risk with that." Pastern ate some more of her vegetarian burger. "Currently, supplies of serum are limited. I don't expect that will always be the case. But I don't know for sure. You could end up waiting a long time for ponification. Maybe indefinitely. But it is one option."

Ryan thought about his 'career' under Robert and the gang, as well as all the other organ traders he had worked for. The harsh world outside the Bureau doors made it a struggle just to stay alive. How nice things had been inside the clinic, how beautiful the holograms taken by probes inside Equestria were. He couldn't go back. Not to that dark world. Not ever.

"Doc...Doctor Pastern?" Ryan thought once more, just to be sure. "Let's make history."

"Alright then!" Pastern seemed glad of his choice. "First off, just how long have you been taking hormones, and how regularly were you able to get them?"

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

The common space was dark and quiet. Most of the applicant dorms had their doors closed, or only slightly ajar. A sound of snoring came surprisingly loudly from one room, even through the closed door. Goodness, Elijah thought.

It was the middle of the night. Elijah had found he couldn't sleep. During the day, during both lunch and dinner, it had seemed like every soul in the clinic had congratulated him on his ponification. And of course, he had made a very special friend that afternoon. That had been unexpected, but it had made Elijah very glad. Every day now was a new cup of tea, he thought to himself. He must remember to bow his head and drink deeply.

It had truly been such an exciting day. A wonderful day. So much had happened. So much had changed. Elijah's mind raced. Maybe thinking of a name would help him relax enough to sleep. He wanted a proper Equestrian name, if only he could figure one out.

Elijah was laying with folded legs on the large, lumpen couch. He now realized how it had become so shapeless; countless pony bodies had found uniquely Equestrian ways of using the battered piece of furniture. Hooves were harder by far than feet, and the couch had doubtless suffered many insults from ponies simply getting on or off.

A clopping step filled the silence. It was a pony trying to walk softly while still unsure of its new legs. Elijah turned to see that it was pony Logan, come to join him. Apparently Logan couldn't sleep either.

Logan came over to the couch. Elijah shifted and made more room.

Logan carefully put his new hooves up on the couch, and half lifted, half rolled his pony body onto the worn cushions. He flopped, only slightly out of control, up tight against Elijah's hindquarters. Elijah shifted uneasily; Logan squirmed to allow Elijah to raise his tail so that it wouldn't be pinched. Elijah then let his tail drop across Logan's spine.

Elijah stroked Logan's back gently with his tail. "I am so very happy that you're here." Pony Logan gave him a sweet, friendly smile and nuzzled Elijah's flank. "Me too."

"Logan?" Elijah looked back at the gray stallion pressed against him. "Could you... tell me about your life, about how what brought you to the clinic? Now that we're friends..."

Logan interrupted Elijah "The very best of friends!" He gave Elijah another nuzzle on his flank.

Elijah continued: "... the very best of friends," Both stallions smiled. "Now that we are, I really want to know all about you."

Logan thought for a moment. "Well, for me, my journey here kind of started with my father trying to, well..."

"Trying to what?" Elijah could tell that the memory somehow hurt Logan.

"He kind of... tried to kill me."

Elijah, understandably enough, gasped at that.

A Cup Of Disbelief

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Eight: A Cup Of Disbelief

The man shouting over the holoterminal at Alexi Venäläinen was the primary physician of clinic 078. His name was Prabhakar and he wanted Alexi to understand quite clearly that he did not only lack a supply of testosterone cypionate, but that if had possessed such a supply, Alexi would be the last human being he would be giving it to.

Dr. Pastern had not told Alexi what she wanted the male hormone for, but that had not mattered. Alexi knew his job in the world; there was always a need, and it was his gift, his ability, his calling to find a way to fulfill it. Procurement was a game, a puzzle to Alexi, one he found infinitely satisfying to solve. The challenge of acquiring the unacquirable, of pulling off a miracle when everyone thought it impossible was a thrill. But better still was knowing that he had succeeded in getting someone what they needed, when nobody else could. Alexi was not overly complicated in this aspect; he genuinely enjoyed feeling that he had made someone happy.

It was becoming clear that the Bureau clinics were not well stocked for anything beyond their primary function; what medical supplies were carried in their infirmaries varied less than he had imagined, and there was little beyond essential first aid.

Alexi would need to expand beyond the Bureau, and that almost certainly meant the black market. Alexi was no stranger to the underground economy, but since landing his position in clinic 042, he had tried, as much as he could, to put that part of his life behind him. While there were good people in the black market, there were also predators and thieves, and there was always an element of danger. Alexi did not like dangerous people; they tended to be impatient, easily offended, and their prices were always too high.

Dr. Pastern had been very insistent that this was an important matter, and Alexi felt that she was counting on him. He would not fail her.

Alexi dug under the frame of his large bed. While he had obtained the oversized bed for reasons of comfort, it had another value; things could be stored underneath it, back in the corner, where only someone willing to crawl could get to them. Using a small penlight, Alexi found the bluebox, and brought it out of the locked case he had stored it in.

The bluebox sang illegal streams of holographic data into the scanning plate of any hypernet terminal, allowing quantum encrypted access to sources and sites that mere knowledge of was a punishable offense. Alexi locked his door, but before he did so, he put a small button-beacon outside, in the corner of the doorframe. The beacon would interrupt and alert him to certain kinds of approach. Alexi also retrieved another device from under his bed; a scanning cloak. The small box constantly listened for any kind of searching pulse, and countered it with a reversed echo, returning nothing to the source. The world government had automated spies and tracking tags in every appliance, and in every product.

He was as protected as he could be. Alexi used arcane quantum incantations to open forbidden hypernet portals to the realm of the underground economy. It was technological black magic, and Alexi had once been a dark magician of some renown. There were those who he could contact, other magi, who would certainly be able to fulfill Dr. Pastern's request - but what price might be required was a matter of concern.

A face appeared, floating in front of the holoterminal. It was not a pleasant face, because it belonged to a person that had lived an unpleasant life. Alexi found himself recognized, with some surprise as to his call. Alexi had not parted on the best of terms with the unpleasant person whose face floated in front of him. Nevertheless, there was no doubt that this person would have whatever Alexi needed, and -somewhat frighteningly- it didn't matter in all the world what that need might be.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

When Logan Bertram was very young, he loved sitting on the remains of the docks of the Lake Merced favela. The water here was not safe, of course, thus no one would ever think of swimming in it or drinking from it. The water was still very pretty though, and Logan would sit and allow the sparkles and ripples to lull him into a dreamy, hypnogogic state. In that warm, quiet, surreal place of mind, he felt the wonder of the world live in him.

Logan enjoyed the sensation that he was part of the life of the world around him; he felt like he was floating, a spirit unbound by flesh, one with all the insects and mutie-rats and people. It almost seemed as if the little chirps and squeeks were directed at him, as though the little creatures were talking to him.

One day, he half opened his eyes, as entranced by the hypnotic water as he had ever been. Logan had been imagining that he was transparent, ethereal, concentrating on all the happy feelings he could muster. He had sat away from the docks, perched on a large, broken machine. Through the thin strip where his upper eyelid almost met his lower, he saw a strange but marvelous thing. Several wild mutie-rats had drawn close, their normally skittish behavior forgotten. They all sat on their hind-quarters, as though in audience before him.

He felt as if he had become a peaceful Buddha, kind to all living things, and that the semi-circle of animals were there to pay respect to him for that achievement. In that moment, he became excited at the thought of having accomplished something amazing, and his inner peace rapidly changed to agitation. Though he tried to remain still, the curious audience of mutie-rats dispersed quickly, somehow aware of Logan's change of state.

It was too late. They were gone. But this experience convinced Logan that there was something magical in Nature, something precious beyond what he had imagined was possible.

Logan lived alone with his father in a government-issue trailer. His father had studied engineering and science once, and he had some kind of peripheral position within the world corporation. Logan was never completely sure what his father's job title was, but his dad was a very ambitious man, and was not overly limited by scruples. Logan's best guess was that his father was an informant and an agent provocateur for the corporation; paid to infiltrate various movements and social groups and sometimes to get them into enough trouble that their Disappearance would be seen positively by the populace.

Logan's family always seemed to have a little more than others did. Logan's father made sure that he was educated, and long nights of study with his harsh, angry father had given Logan a knowledge of much more than simply his father's fist. Logan could read, he understood basic scientific concepts, and he had a concept of history and literature. This isolated him from the other children in the slums, and so he spent most of his time alone and close to home.

One place he would dare to venture was the ruins of an abandoned college nearby. In what was left of the campus, there were ancient books, many still in readable condition. But venturing there was dangerous, because there were bullies and thugs who would beat him if they could catch him. Logan was not an athletic child, nor was he good at fighting.

When his father would see the bruises and damage to his clothing inflicted by others, Logan could be sure to be beaten again, for being, as his father put it, 'a fucking goddamn pansy' and a 'weak little shit'.

But the college library provided Logan with his greatest happiness; fairy tales. He had found the works of L. Frank Baum; nearly two and a fourth of the 'OZ' books, and almost a complete copy of Tolkien's 'The Hobbit', and even three-fifths of Lord Dunsany's 'Book Of Wonder'. They were his greatest treasures.

Logan knew what his father would make of such stories; they weren't practical, they were silly and pointless and empty of any value that would gain status in the world. Logan's father had no patience for a child, he wanted a right-hand man to help him claw his way up. This is why Logan was very careful to hide his books under his bed, inside a hole in the floor. He made sure he was alone when he dared to bring one of them out in order to re-read it. He found ways to secret his books upon his body, and to quickly make them vanish if anyone should approach.

He was successful with this until one night his father came home early. Logan's father was drunk, intoxicated by slum booze made from fermented nutritive ration bars. Drinking slum booze was a favorite pastime in the favela, and everyone was asked to donate rations to make the awful concoction. Logan's father was angry and violent that night, for the men he drank with were the fathers of the boys who often beat Logan up. They had called Logan a sissy and suggested that the reason was clearly a genital deficiency in Logan's father.

Logan had been caught reading Ozma of Oz. In short order he was slammed against a wall, his bedroom was ripped apart, and his books found beneath the bed. Logan watched as his father destroyed his books in front of him, screaming at him for daring to even possess them. Gone forever was Ozma, and Dorothy, Bilbo and Thorin, Shepperalk the centaur, and the beautiful worlds that gave Logan his only true joy.

Of course Logan cried; the most precious things in his life were being taken from him, and he was powerless against the brutish monster doing it.

Things would be different now! Logan would learn to fight, he would study even harder, he would amount to something! Father had plans, he intended that Logan should join the infiltration corps, and work like a man. Logan should grow up and stop acting like a girl - if he didn't shape up, his father would beat the 'faggotry' out of him.

Soon, Logan's world consisted only of learning to fight and studying mathematics, science, and corporate policy. His father had dreams of climbing above infiltration one day, of becoming a full corporate employee, to have a position in a nanofactory, or a technology center. He expected nothing less of his son.

It was not long before the lake had no more power to grant Logan his magical moments of peace. The ashes of Middle Earth and the Gillikin country now tasted rotten in his mind. How stupid he had been. How ridiculous. The beatings convinced him of the solidity of reality. His father smacked the truth into him that all that existed was here and now, what could be taken and used. The only thoughts that mattered were rational; no one and no thing could be trusted, for the world was harsh, and everyone was out to benefit only themselves. There was no purpose to life except to survive and better oneself; and woe to any that got in the way. The population were useless eaters, and they could be controlled through belief and stories.

Whoever understood that, was deserving of power and position. Logan followed his father up the ladder.

When he was twenty-three, Logan had found himself part of the blackmesh armor division. This had greatly pleased his father. Logan patrolled the borders of the small worldcorp facility located in what had once been called the Presidio. Here order was maintained for the entire region; from this location the standard survival rations were initially distributed. Logan wore blackmesh armor and carried an automatic weapon; he was authorized to kill anyone without clearance who even appeared to be approaching from any direction within his view.

It was here that Logan had met Nicholas.

Nick was a little older than Logan, and he was very attractive. Although tough and strong, his face was delicate and had an almost elvish beauty. Nicholas stirred memories of long lost books within Logan, of fairylands and wondrous creatures. Logan found himself fascinated by Nicholas, and could not help taking glances at him, when he was sure it was safe.

One morning, Logan was alone in the base locker room. He was struggling to pull on his blackmesh top, the carbon-fiber based material tough and unyielding as always. He had the armored covering over his head, trying to wriggle his limbs into the right slots. Suddenly, he felt strong arms around him.

"You have been looking at me." It was Nicholas, and his voice was strange. Logan felt fear, and began to tremble, waiting for the blows to begin, the beating to start.

"I figure you owe me for the show." Logan found the blackmesh pulled suddenly down, his head popping out of the top, his arms still tangled within it. Suddenly, Nicholas kissed him.

Relationships were not permitted among the members of the division; it sometimes led to complications and problems the corporate masters did not want to bother with. If one of them quit the blackmesh, there would be no problem, but neither could. Nicholas, because he loved being a corporate soldier, and Logan, because of his father.

They kept their romance as secret as they could, but such things can never truly remain so within a tightly knit company of men. Logan and Nicholas soon found themselves presented with a choice by their commander; break it off, or quit the division.

Logan had fallen in love with Nick, he had not felt so happy since his childhood, since his books and his moments by the lake. Nicholas lived for the blackmesh, and Logan lived for Nicholas. He would quit. Let his father be damned.

Logan found a home far away from both his father, and the base, a small shack which he gradually restored. For the first time in his life, Logan felt content. During the day, he would sometimes sit by the gray, dead ocean, and there were moments when the sparkling, oily waves almost entranced him. In the evening, Nicholas would come home, and Logan knew only joy.

As the year wore on, though, Nicholas began to come home less often. Apparently, the blackmesh were involved in night exercises, and there were changes going on. Something was happening in the world, and it was rumored that it was a government secret. Then, suddenly, there was no secret anymore; a small rift in spacetime had opened somewhere in the pacific ocean. A spherical hole to another universe had collided with the earth, or expanded from another realm, or something, and it was rapidly growing larger with every hour.

Nicholas came home hardly at all now; the base was on constant alert, the population in the favela worried. There were rumors that the strange bubble in the sea was dangerous. There were stories that some places were no longer safe to go, that a bizarre illness haunted them. Panic was rising, and the blackmesh needed to be ready to deal with the possibility of riots or insurrection.

Logan watched with fascination on the portable holoterminal Nicholas had brought home for them to share. The cosmic bubble had grown in mere months to over a mile in diameter, and there was no sign of it stopping. Choppers hovering near it recorded glimpses of green and blue inside, enhancement showed that within the sphere was a landscape, with mountains and rivers and forests. The world collectively drooled at the thought of such bountiful resources.

Thus began the first of several waves of religious fervor. The world was sick; some said it was dying. Surely these were the end times, and here, rising out of the sea, was a green and pastoral realm. Some called it the Rapture, some called it the thousand-year reign of peace, some thought that it was a gift from God. Religious ecstasy swept the globe even as the world corporation drew up plans to strip mine this new resource.

But so far, no physical object had penetrated the shimmering boundary of the sphere.

When the sphere was four miles in diameter and still growing, the world government announced that it had received some kind of message from the emerging cosmos. Robot probes would be permitted inside, but no human could enter.

Logan watched awestruck at the first images from the new realm. It was Oz. It was Middle Earth. It was every fantasy come alive, made real, and true. Green and lush and beautiful; the sight of it was so thrilling that it almost made up for the fact that he had not seen or heard from Nicholas in three months. The base was in apparent lockdown. Logan determined to wait; Nicholas would return, once the crisis was over. He would keep their home ready for his return.

But then, one night, only two days before his twenty-fourth birthday, two terrible things happened.

To Logan Bertram @ Quantumcode ++X++XX**X SECURE MESSAGE FOLLOWS:

Logan:

I am so sorry I dragged you into a life of sin and degradation. I was consumed by Satan, and by worldly evil. I pray that you can forgive me. I have found a new life in the Reformed Designist Ministry, and have sworn my soul to Our Savior. You have surely seen the arrival of the Kingdom Of God, I pray that this will sway you to turn away from sin and repent your life.

In Brotherhood,
Nicholas Teivel

Logan stared at the message on the holoprompt. It had interrupted the latest news that contact with the inhabitants of the new realm had been ongoing for almost a year; that their regent would address the world, and that the world government had come to some kind of a treaty or agreement with the aliens. As astonishing as all of that was, the breaking of his heart was all he could think about.

Logan cried and slammed the walls of his shack with his fists. The damn preachers had gotten to his Nicholas. They had preyed upon the fear generated by the new cosmos and stolen Nick away. Logan cursed such superstitious insanity, he cursed all gods and all faiths, he railed against the cruelty of such harmful stories and cruel myths.

Nicholas had spoken of being raised in a religious family. He had mentioned that he had once been religious. Logan rapidly became angry. How could Nicholas do such a thing? How could he let fear destroy the precious gift of love? How could Nick change like that? It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

On the holoscreen, behind the floating rectangle that held Nick's letter, the face of a strange being addressed the world. She was not human; a long horn extended from her head. Waving colors took the place of hair on her scalp. The creature's eyes were huge and brightly colored, they somehow conveyed both gentleness and terrifying power. The entity was saying something about an agreement with the government of the world, about 'conversion' whatever that was. It made no sense. All Logan knew was that Nicholas was gone, his Nick was gone, just like his books, just like everything good had always been taken away from him. Punishment. It was punishment for quitting the blackmesh, for failing his father, again.

There was pounding at the door. Nicholas! It had to be Nick, there was nobody else who ever came by. Nick was back, he had changed his mind - it was clear that the strange bubble cosmos could not be some biblical event; weird large-eyed aliens lived there, not Jesus or God. Nick had come home after all. He had come to his senses!

Logan ran to the door and began unbolting it. Nicholas! Nick was here!

The fist slammed hard into the side of the Logan's head. The impact caused the delicate skin around his lip to be torn; beads of blood spattered onto his shirt and the ground. Logan knew that fist well. It belonged to his father. How could his father be here?

Logan suddenly found a knee and leg on his chest; it was hard to breath. A rough hand grabbed his hair and the world gyrated as his head was violently shaken. When his vision cleared, his entire world became the object inches in front of his nose. It was the barrel of a pistol. Behind the pistol, the red-faced, screaming mouth of his father shouted obscenities above him.

"Dad... how did you... please... what is this..."

"You filthy, fucking piece of worthless SHIT! You little cockmuncher, how dare you speak to me with that corrupted hole you call a mouth! I fucking should just shoot you, right here, right now. You little piece of shit!" Logan's father was apparently not particularly happy with him tonight. Logan's head spun. How could this be happening?

Logan stared at the grey metal of the gun. The barrel seemed so incredibly huge, like a cannon. He could smell the metallic substance of it. Suddenly warmth spread through his pants, down to his buttocks where they were pressed into the dirt floor. Some part of Logan's consciousness, in the middle of his terror, found it interesting that fear really could cause loss of bladder control. It wasn't just a myth or a fanciful story. Another part of his racing thoughts found it intriguing that he could think of such things abstractly in such a moment.

Logan had a very complicated mind.

"Your little boyfriend..." His father spat the word out like an insect that he had accidentally swallowed "...sent me a letter. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT LETTER SAID?"

Logan had a pretty good idea.

"Apparently MY SON is a dirty little cocksucking whore! Apparently, he's been shacking up in a little LOVE nest. It seems his faggot boyfriend found Jesus and wanted to make sure I knew, so I could help my son find Jesus as well. Isn't that just LOVELY? Huh, FAGGOT?"

Logan was having trouble breathing. The knee in his chest hurt. The pee was starting to turn cold and it itched. He couldn't believe that he could be aware of so many things all at the same time.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO HELP YOU FIND JESUS? Huh? You little shit? Do you? I can help you SEE JESUS RIGHT FUCKING NOW! Would you like to?" The barrel of the gun filled Logan's vision. It was as large as the sky. He could see the rifling inside it. He could practically taste it.

Logan suddenly went cold inside. The look in his father's eyes was death. Logan's mind came to a sharp, clear focus, bright as any star. "Wait? You mean that bastard Nicholas? That fag is STILL trying to fuck me over. Dad, dad, dad, how could you believe crap like that? Fuck, dad. THAT'S why you're here?" It was a gamble, Logan knew that. It all depended on just how much his father didn't want to believe. Logan was betting on the power of denial, the power of what his father wished to think. Belief was a tool to control the weak; his father had taught him that.

Logan knew his father wanted to believe that none of that was true. Logan knew he would live, or die, based on the strength of his father's need for denial. The gun remained, filling Logan's vision.

Suddenly, his father's face changed. The eyes softened, and looked askew for a moment. The lips changed from a feral grin to something almost contemplative. Logan could see the war inside his father through the expressions that subtly rippled across that face.

The gun withdrew, the pressure was removed from his chest.

"I don't know what's true. I don't want to know. If I ever see you again, I will kill you." His father stood in the doorway now, the gun in his hand. "Do you understand?". His voice was calm, as if he were talking about what to eat for lunch.

Logan understood. Clearly. He had no doubt or confusion whatsoever.

His father looked left and right quickly, then turned and marched at a quick pace back out into the dark night, out into the favela.

Logan looked around, everything seemed so normal now, except for the open door. The holoscreen featured talking heads discussing the address by the strange regent of Equestria. Logan's pants were wet and cold, but he was alive.

He had trouble sitting up. He felt like he was in some curious state of shock. He found himself terrified that his father might reemerge from the dark and decide to finish the job.

Logan grabbed what he could, and ran for his life.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Bethany was sitting at the front desk of clinic 042, chatting with the receptionist from 043. Her name was Hyssop, and she was on break. She had brought a cup of tea with her, which she occasionally sipped, balancing the cup expertly on the frog of her right hoof. Hyssop had undergone conversion about two months previously, but had chosen to remain at her clinic because she genuinely enjoyed the job... and because she was a little nervous about living in Equestria; she didn't know anyone there, and she was afraid of being alone in a strange land.

Alexi came walking out of the back. He waved to Bethany and Hyssop as he passed by. He had a strange expression on his face. He was carrying some kind of small device in his hand, which was beeping softly. He carefully opened the front security door, studying the small beeping machine the entire time.

Hyssop continued explaining about the problem that had happened the other day in clinic 012, involving a newfoal who tried to eat balogna, and ended up making a mess all over the...

Alexi came back through the security door with a bulky package under his arm. The little device was still beeping. "Alexi?" Bethany was curious, interrupting Hyssop's story.

"Just something for Dr. Pastern. However..." Alexi came to the desk and bent over, his face close to Bethany's. "This never happened. Nothing was delivered today. Understand?" Alexi wasn't being aggressive, rather he was pleading, begging.

"I saw nothing, nothing at all." Bethany was used to Alexi's ways, but above all, she knew that without his abilities, hardly anything would get done at 042.

"I wish we had an Alexi." Hyssop sighed. "We're always running out of, well, everything really."

Alexi took the package to the infirmary. It was nearly two o'clock, Pastern might already be with her second applicant of the day. Alexi suddenly realized that he had been so busy working out a deal, he hadn't even remembered to do an announcement. That was his favorite thing! Maybe it wasn't too late.

Alexi put the small security scrambler in his pocket after shutting it off. He knocked on the infirmary door.

"Heya, Alexi! I'm about to do second conversion - shouldn't you be announcing our next pony?" Pastern finished closing down her hypernet terminal, storing her current state before shutdown. "What's up?" She had noticed the package under Alexi's arm, and the worried look on his face.

"Here. Put this in a safe place. Testosterone. I had to take a full box. It's a lot more than you'll ever need. I hope anyway." Alexi gave Dr. Pastern the box. "Listen, this one was a tricky one, so... I may need something a little more ...problematic later to settle the debt. Please tell me this was as important as you say?" Alexi looked concerned.

Pastern thought of putting the box somewhere in the infirmary, but reconsidered. It would be safer in the Conversion Room. "This may just save the life of a good man. That's all I can say." She owed Alexi that much, at least.

"Excellent. Good. Good." Alexi turned to leave. "This... never happened, right?"

"What never happened?" Alexi smiled at Dr. Pastern and walked off down the corridor.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Logan was hiding out in his room. It was nearly two, nearly time for his conversion. He had felt agitated for several days, a heady mixture of excitement, fear, fascination, and yearning. The sheer strangeness of the situation only now somehow became clear to Logan; in a few minutes, he would cease to be a human being.

It was a little like being on death row, Logan thought. Or maybe it was like facing some life-changing surgery. No. It wasn't like either of those, not really. It was unique, this Conversion. He knew he wasn't going to die; the Bureaus had not officially lost a single applicant - though there were rumors about the very first test cases not surviving, only rational, perhaps. Every person he had watched enter the Conversion Room had come out happier, healthier, and, well, nicer than before they went in.

But it was still a vast change. A change of species! An entirely new way of life. An entirely new... everything. A new body, new eyes, new senses, a new brain. Logan knew he would still essentially be himself, after, but he also had observed from others that he would be different in some ways too. Perhaps ponification was like having a stroke that changed personality slightly; the person is still the same person, but they are somehow also different. No, a stroke is damage, a loss. Conversion didn't cripple anybody, so it wasn't damage. But it was change.

Change is always a little scary, he thought. Who would he be after -

The voice over the loudspeaker was slightly out of breath, as though Alexi had just been running to get to the microphone. "AWWWWRIGHT, YOU PONIES AND PONETTES, and all you WANNABES out there, (your turn will come, give it time) WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A NEW STALLION IN TOWN, SO COME ON DOWN TO THE PONIFICATION PALACE, LUCKY GUY, LET'S HAVE A CHEER FOR THE ONE AND ONLY LOGAN BERTRAMMMMM!! Time to get your hooves on, dude!"

Logan heard a single, faint cheer from somewhere in the common space. He wasn't sure who it was.

Logan took one last look around the room he had spent the last two weeks in. He had nothing, just the clothes on his back, and a few basic necessities; several changes of underwear, spare socks, his toothbrush and paste, the cologne that Nicholas had once given him from the blackmesh base depot. Logan put them all into the ragged bag he had brought them in, and took them with him.

Crossing the common space, he saw a newfoal laying on the couch. The pony was tan with a white mane and tail. Logan hadn't seen this newfoal before. It must be... Elijah. Elijah had been the morning conversion. This was Elijah as a pony now. Logan remembered the lone cheer from the common area. It must have been him. "Hello, Elijah. How you feelin'?"

Large burgundy eyes looked up at him. The expression was kind but a little shy. "It feels really nice, Logan. It's new, but... it feels really nice." Suddenly pony Elijah gave Logan a confident smile that felt like sunshine and dandelions. Logan somehow felt better.

"I... guess I'll see you later, little pony." Logan walked a step and then stopped. He turned back briefly, suddenly ashamed of all the times he had argued with Elijah. "Thanks. Just... Thanks." Logan turned and headed for the Conversion Room, beyond the cafeteria. He had missed Elijah softly saying "sweet dreams" behind him.

In the cafeteria, Logan held his ragged bag of personal possessions over the large garbage bin. He wouldn't need any of these things any more. These were the last traces of his earthly life, other than the clothing he was wearing. He dropped the bag in the bin. Suddenly, he thought of Nicholas. Anger took him, and he marched out of the cafeteria.

Lynn was at the large metal door to the Conversion Room. "Ah, mister Bertram, come on in, and let's get you converted. Today is your day!" Lynn ushered Logan in, and closed the door behind her.

"Let's see, Logan Bertram, age 24, male, two blackmesh security tags, on in the wrist, one in... the buttocks, apparently. A subdermal cranial jack, inductance style, no other major augmentations, correct?" Dr. Pastern was busy with her terminal.

"That's correct, Dr. Pastern." Logan lifted his arm so that Lynn could take his vitals. He felt the autocuff begin to squeeze at his arm. "Doctor, could I ask you a question?"

"Certainly... um, just a moment, allergen type... C. Need to bring out the other anesthetic. Good thing I double checked, huh?" Dr. Pastern messed about with cups and bottles while Logan waited. "Alright, then. All set except the pouring of the serum. What's your question?" Pastern turned to look at Logan.

"You've probably seen a lot of people go through here... how much do they change, up here?" Logan pointed to his head.

Dr. Pastern smiled. "Actually, Logan, they don't change 'up there' at all, really. All the change seems to happen here." Pastern jabbed her finger a few times at the center of her chest. She thought for a moment then adjusted her finger slightly more to the left. "Ok, here, to be more accurate." Only a physician would worry about that level of detail in a gesture. Logan somehow found the behavior comforting, considering what was about to happen to him.

"If you had to sum up how ponification changes people, how would you describe it?" Logan was undressed now, at Lynn's urging, and was lifting himself up on the table while facing away from it. He struggled to keep his shirt more or less draped over his crotch; he felt embarrassed to be so exposed.

"Well... that is a question." Pastern had poured out exactly three ounces of the purple serum into a white cup, the large Erlenmeyer flask now had only twelve ounces remaining inside of it. "If I had to pick one word, I would be easiest to just say 'nicer', but that is not a very clear answer. Hmm. I think I would have to say that ponification makes humans into something closer to what they like to pretend they are, but which history has shown that they just plain aren't." Pastern turned and brought the white cup over to Logan, who was now sitting on the table.

"Human beings like to imagine that they are noble, honest, giving, compassionate, loyal, rational, reasonable - all that good stuff. Idealistic notions of what a 'good person' is. But we really aren't those things." Pastern swirled the contents of the cup. "We want to be, we always want to be, but fifty thousand years of evolution out on the veldt, fighting the world and each other says otherwise. Ponification makes humans become something that actually can pull off all of those ideals. This cup... " Dr. Pastern held up the white cup and studied it. "...gives us would-be angels some wings to lift us out of hell, I suppose."

Logan took the cup that Dr. Pastern offered. "I don't like the religious imagery, but... thanks, doctor. I get the idea. I'll lose the violent ape inside, but the essential 'me' will stay the same. I never much liked that side of me anyway."

"Drink it all down, fast as you can, Logan. It acts fairly quickly, and you need every drop."

Logan studied the cup for a moment, the purple liquid shimmered and occasionally sparkled. A faint whiff of artificial grape tickled his nose. As the nanofluid swirled, Logan remembered Lake Merced. He remembered the mutie rats and how innocent and peaceful he had felt. Instantly, he downed the cup.

Sickly sweet goo slid down his throat; his mouth filled with false grape flavor, before it suddenly went numb. His throat followed, suddenly devoid of sensation. Logan felt his head falling, but he did not feel it hit the table.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

"Alexi? I am concerned about you. Please tell me what is wrong." Caprice had pushed her way into Alexi's room, he was surprised that he had failed to lock it. He always locked his room. Worry about his recent deal must be distracting him even more than he thought.

"My little peach princess, of what do you speak? Alexi is fine. Beyond fine!" He brought his most formidable deflection smile out and wore it upon his face.

Caprice looked down, her face pouting. She shuffled her front hooves. "Always tell me the truth, Alexi. I always tell the truth to you."

In his entire life, Alexi had never felt such shame. "I'm... I'm sorry Caprice. I did not want to worry you. I do not want to bring you any unhappiness. I promise I will never keep anything from you again." Alexi meant it; he didn't entirely understand all the reasons why, but he could not even imagine lying to her ever again.

Caprice brightened. Alexi's heart felt a thousand times lighter.

"I had to get something for Dr. Pastern. What she needed was very difficult to find, so I resorted to some of my old business partners, from before I joined the Bureau. They are not nice people, muruseni, and if I cannot find a way to pay them back, things will not go so well for me I think." Alexi shrugged, but his face showed concern.

"If anyone tries to hurt you, I will kick them with my hooves." Caprice was utterly serious, but it was hard for Alexi to keep from smiling at this. If anyone came, they would come with guns, and the last thing Alexi wanted was to have Caprice anywhere near him then. Still, she was just so darn... ahem, Alexi thought to himself.

"What do they want?" Caprice looked up, her bright green eyes shining.

"That is a problem. A big problem." Alexi ran his fingers through his blond hair. "They want a red case. They want twenty-seven ounces of pony serum, packed in the original case. I was stupid. I told them that it was a possibility when it is not. And now, Alexi is in very big trouble. This is why I did not tell the truth originally. It is my fault, and I guess I must find a way out of this."

Caprice studied Alexi with such intensity that he felt worried for what she might do. "You are not alone in this. You always try to help others whatever the cost. It is one of the reasons I desire you. Do not be afraid. I will protect you." With that, Caprice suddenly turned and left, leaving Alexi without words. She will protect me? he thought. This was not good. These men were not nice men. She could be hurt, even killed.

Now Alexi had something far more important than his own measly life to worry about. He should never have told her. Stupid Alexi. Stupid.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

It was five o'clock. Dr. Pastern had asked Alexi to not do the usual conversion announcement at four, he had seemed disappointed but had understood.

Since the package had arrived, Dr. Pastern had called Ryan in for small injections. Pastern had found that normally, transmen took 50 to 100mg of testosterone per week, but that some went as high as 250 to 1000mg. There was a downside to that, however, in that large amounts of testosterone are converted by the body into estrogenic compounds, doing exactly the opposite of what the patient wanted. There was a delay, however, before the body could do this chemical reversal, and that was what she was counting on.

Since Ryan was at the end of his two-week orientation, and he did not feel safe trying to live outside of the clinic on his own, he had committed to being converted this day. After considering things, Roselyn had reasoned that continuing Ryan on hormones was pointless, after five years on them, he was as ready as he was going to be. But she wanted to make sure of two things.

Roselyn wanted to have so much testosterone in Ryan's blood and tissues that the ponification nanomachines would be strongly persuaded that the subject was male even if there was conflict in their initial chromosome analysis. She also wanted to give any 'loose' or missing methyl tags an extra boost on Ryan's chromosomes, insuring that all the 'build as male' genetic switches were fully set. It was likely they already were, but Ryan's history of hormone use was spotty, because he had difficulty at times acquiring the drug.

By five o'clock, any ordinary physician would be worried for Ryan; his testosterone levels were exceedingly high. In hours, his liver would begin to break the chemistry down into estrogen-like compounds; but Ryan wasn't going have that liver shortly, nor would his health be an issue; he would be remade into a member of the Equestrian species.

Roselyn had done everything she could. She had dosed Ryan's cup of serum with male epigenetic governor. She had dosed Ryan with a high level of testosterone, he was feeling it; woozy, aching muscles and back, soreness in his gums. The time for Conversion was now.

"Ryan, this is it." Pastern handed Ryan Niequist the small white cup that contained his future. The contents were not purple now, but a deep midnight color, the result of the governor additive. It still smelled of artificial grape. "I did my best, Ryan, I really did. I honestly think you have an excellent chance of coming out of this a proper stallion."

Ryan sat naked on the conversion table. He had not wanted to undress and unbind himself; but momentary shame was better than having his transforming body strangled. Lynn had given Ryan a blanket to hold over himself instead, it was kind of her, but in the end pointless - whatever happened, Pastern and Lynn would see his body when he fell unconscious. What the hell, he thought. It was the last time he would ever have to deal with his traitorous chest, and his absent manhood. Let the malicious flesh have one last hurrah.

"Doctor Pastern. Lynn. I want to thank you for everything. I know you tried your best. I know I kind of put you on the spot, by not telling you about myself until it was too late. Sorry about that." Ryan looked down at his enemy, his body. His breasts, his wide hips. All the things that denied his identity as a man. "Whatever happens, I know you did your best." He looked up at Dr. Pastern. "Thank you."

Ryan tilted his head back and downed the cup in one quick swallow. He quickly flipped onto his side, and lay still. "Doc?"

"Yes, Ryan?"

"I just wanted t...."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Ryan's skin began to turn waxy. Small waves began to ripple under the skin, as though Ryan's body were a pond into which Dr. Pastern had thrown a stone.

Lynn bent down to examine Ryan's hand. The flesh of his fingers began to flow, like melting candles. The fingers drew together, pulled by squirming tissues, and became one. The back of Ryan's hand softened, and began to stretch. Waves of muscle, fat, blood and skin flowed down Ryan's arm, adding mass to his lengthening hand. His thumb submerged like a small, pink whale diving into a fleshy sea. Soon, the metacarpals in Ryan's hand fused to become the cannon and splint of an equinoid foreleg.

As Lynn watched, the pulsing bulb that had been Ryan's fingertips began to extrude a hoof. As the hoof extended from the blob of flesh, she could see the formation of the coronary band, and then the periople, trimming the upmost edge of the hoof. Lynn had never really looked that closely at how a hand changed into a hoof before. Every Conversion seemed to offer some unique new experience for her. One day, she knew, all of these astonishing things would happen to her own body.

It was a thought that always filled Lynn with awe.

"Lynn!" Dr. Pastern was pointing. "I think it's going to work!"

Both women crowded together, peering intently into the shadowy thighs of the rapidly forming equinoid. "Check the posterior." Lynn went around the table and began to report. "There's complete closure, and descension of the labia...they're forming a scrotal sac. Just as it normally happens in the womb. I'm not seeing testes yet, but they've got a ways to go through the body. What's going on from your view?"

The problem of view could be solved by lifting Ryan's leg up and away, but Dr. Pastern did not like interfering with the conversion process. She had nightmares of inadvertently shifting limbs out of joint during transformation, leaving the patient permanently crippled or deformed as a result. Instead, she tried to see under the leg, into the space between the thighs as best as she could. "Something...something's protruding. It still looks a bit clitoral, but...no, it has a fully formed urethra in the middle. Almost in the middle. The tissue is forming around the urethral channel, I think it looks clear. I wish I had a better view, dammit."

Lynn felt like they were announcing a race. In a way, they were. It was a race to see if Ryan's male genitalia would form completely before the transformation process ended. The prize was Ryan's life. If something serious went wrong, the result could be catastrophic. The urethra could be closed off, there could be hypospadia, or Ryan could simply be left with ambiguous genitalia. A thousand terrible things could go wrong. Some of them potentially fatal down the road.

"Any testes?" If Ryan's ovaries expressed themselves into the newly formed scrotal sac, changed into testes, that would be a sure sign that a vast number of unpleasant outcomes would be averted. This was what happened in normal development; all creatures start out as proto-female, maleness being essentially a prenatal mutation of that stock form. Here, Pastern and Lynn were seeing that process happen rapidly in an adult creature. Dr. Pastern suddenly realized that she should have been holographing all of this. What a waste.

"No. Nothing yet." Lynn crossed her fingers. It was silly, but somehow it helped, emotionally.

Lynn stood up. The process seemed essentially complete. All that was left was the creation of coat, mane and tail. "I don't think we've got a complete boy here. No testes. There's a scrotal sac, but..." Still, she kept her fingers crossed. She wasn't willing to give up hope for Ryan yet. "How's he doing in the penile department?"

Pastern considered. "As far as I can tell, that worked. We have complete enclosure of the urethra, or at least it seemed that way until everything was covered up by prepuce." Pastern thought for a moment. "I won't be happy until I hear he can urinate properly. If he can't... it'll mean surgery. That won't be happy."

Conversion had been so easy until Ryan. A cup of goo, sit back and watch, it always turned out right. They had both gotten into the habit of treating the extraordinary process almost as a lark. Pastern felt some shame at how she had treated such total transformation; joking and making bets on what race of pony a patient would become. For the first time in over six months, it truly hit her just how incredible, how tremendous, Conversion really was.

It was so easy to make even the miraculous commonplace. Somehow, the human mind just does that, she thought. Man is the animal that makes miracles blasé.

Ryan's coat began to spring up, growing out all over his body. His head was clearly masculine, with the long, straight nose indicative of an Equestrian male. Hair began to cover his naked, fleshy head, short awn hairs followed by longer, thicker guard hairs. Ryan was going to be a dark gray pony, almost black. His coat glimmered softly in the light.

Lynn made one more check of Ryan's posterior. Nothing. She felt sorry for the young newfoal. Even if he were to be the equivalent of a gelding, hopefully everything else would work correctly.

Ryan's mane and tail spooled out, long strands of robin's egg blue, streaked with golden yellow. It looked like morning rising over a dark landscape. Lynn thought it was quite striking.

It was an hour before Ryan awoke. He was groggy, as all newfoals are at first, but soon coherent. Of course, his first question was whether or not Dr. Pastern's experiment had worked.

Dr. Pastern made a careful examination of Ryan. As far as she could tell, Ryan had become a normal stallion, with two important omissions. "It's OK, Doc. Really. This is closer than I ever could have hoped. This is as close to being myself as any guy like me could hope for. Seriously. You came through for me. I can... live with this." Ryan looked earnest, but Roselyn still felt bad. She really had wanted to come through for the poor man.

Ryan wanted to try standing on his own hooves. Pastern wished for him to wait a little longer, but he really seemed to need to assert some personal control over his new body, standing on his own hooves seemed to mean that to him. It took some effort to get him off the table, as weak as he was, but Pastern and Lynn worked together to ease him down.

As they slowly slid his hind quarters off the table, he put his rear hooves on the floor for the first time. As he did so he let out a loud yelp of pain. Pastern and Lynn froze instantly, supporting the newfoal. "What is it, what's happening for you?" Pastern's mind began to race over the horrifying possibilities. What if her efforts had rendered Ryan's bones weak, and one had broken? What if his urinary system was closed off, or twisted up, or his bladder had torn inside his body?

"Oh... oh god, here it goes again..." Ryan yelped once more, even more loudly. There was a tear in one of his bright blue eyes. "Oh god, oh god, oh god." Ryan lowered his head to the conversion table, breathing heavily, obviously in great pain. "Do you want to get back on the table, do you just want to remain here? What do you need, Ryan?" Lynn was quite worried.

"Stay... here. For now." Ryan panted the words. He seemed to be gradually breathing more easily.

"Can you give us any idea of what is wrong? Try to tell us what you are feeling, Ryan." The newfoal stallion was becoming very heavy to support, and Roselyn was not sure just how long she could keep holding his weight, as he lay half on, and half off of the table.

"Heh." Ryan was still in pain, but now he was grinning. "They dropped."

"They... Lynn! Of course! Can you see? Check it!" Lynn was closer, she tried to tilt her head down enough to observe under Ryan's tail. Ryan obligingly lifted it.

"We have balls. Repeat, we have balls!"

It was dinner, outside, down the corridor, out in the crowded cafeteria. The place was noisy, as usual, with trays clattering, humans and newfoals laughing and talking, and the sounds of people eating. All of this was eclipsed by a single word, shouted loud enough to penetrate even the armored walls of the Conversion Room.

It was Ryan's screaming voice: "YESSSSSS!!!!!"

The Second Night

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Nine: The Second Night

In the dark, in the locked and sealed Conversion Room, The red case sat. It too was armored, locked, and sealed, a sarcophagus within a room built to last Egyptian ages.

Within the red case, capped by a crystalline stopper, surrounded by dark gray shock-proof foam, rested the flask.

It was a single Erlenmeyer flask; clear, glassine, covered with text, measuring lines, and a symbolic representation of the Equestrian form.

Inside the flask was the reason for all of the seals, the armor, the shock-proof foam. Nine ounces of thick, viscous purple fluid slowly swirled, dimly sparking with fairy lights.

Submerged within the fluid, jostled and buffeted by Brownian motion, microscopic machines floated. They were the inventions of Man, made of metal, and plastic, and organic molecules, tiny clockwork demons capable of rewiring the stuff of life itself. Living inside of the machines, humming and singing through submicroscopic channels, coursing through miniscule ports and tubules, raged unearthly forces - streaks of color and wisps of etherial power; the concentrated magic of Equestria.

Three ounces a serving, three servings left; the recipe that made new life by remaking old life anew, sang quiet songs to itself, music that only those touched by magic could hear.

In the room, in the dark, in the case, the Erlenmeyer with nine ounces patiently waited.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Elijah the pony sat in the dark on the large, soft, lumpen mass that more or less resembled a sofa; his legs folded under him, his tail spread out behind. Pressed close to his hindquarters, pony Logan rested, still unsure of his new body. Elijah occasionally stroked Logan's back with his tail, sweeping it gently to and fro. Logan had let his head rest halfway between Elijah's croup and back, every time Elijah swept his tail, Logan could feel it impact his long neck. Both felt warm and cozy.

Logan had just finished telling his friend about his life, about how he had come to the Bureau, about what kind of pony he was. Elijah had nuzzled his head after that, reaching back to do so. Logan felt his ears being gently licked. It was an almost motherly gesture from Elijah, and it somehow made the sadness he had felt telling about his life fade away.

"Hee!" Elijah had let loose a soft giggle.

"What?" Logan opened his half-closed eyes, curious.

"Who would have imagined we'd have ended up here, now?" Elijah seemed mirthful, but also a little astonished.

"Yeah." Logan couldn't help but feel the same way. For two weeks they had been at each others throats, arguing constantly.

It had been three o'clock, earlier that day, when Logan had first awakened on the Conversion Room Table. Dr. Pastern and her PA Lynn were chatting as consciousness returned to him. They were talking about some old media which Lynn favored, but which Dr. Pastern had never heard of, and Lynn was trying to get the doctor to give it a try.

Logan had quietly moved what had once been his arms, sliding them across the table where he lay on his side. His arms were now his forelegs, and he saw that they were covered in short, grey hair, his coat was the color of a comfortable old sweater, the color of a summer raincloud. It was a lovely color, he thought. Manly, yet gentle.

Stallion-ly, perhaps. He would have to get used to a new lexicon now. He could no longer be manly, because he was no longer a part of the species of Man.

Logan didn't say anything at first. Lynn and Dr. Pastern were wrapped up in their discussion and that was fine - Logan didn't actually want them to turn their attention and begin to fuss over him yet. They were there, and that made him feel safe, but he wanted some time to just lay there and feel his new body, to say hello to it, to let it welcome him within it.

Logan studied his front hooves. He was afraid to move too much, for that would draw attention. His hooves gleamed in the light, smooth and hard and shiny. Gigantic fingernails, really, but more complex. He softly clocked them together, not enough to make a sound, but enough that he could feel the impact. Hooves were more sensitive than he had imagined, they were not just dead objects to support his weight, they were living parts of him.

He felt around with his awareness. Ears, tall and proud, stood high on his new skull. He moved them tentatively, fascinated by how the sounds of the doctor and her assistant changed as he did so. He could easily tell where the two were in the space around him, and the space itself, the room, had a presence and a shape derived from the echo of their voices. His vanished, human ears seemed poor in comparison.

The feel of his body, his shape, was so different. This was to be expected, of course, but the full impact of it surprised Logan. He could feel that the basic structure of his old body was still there, roughly, but the parts had different shapes now, some longer, like the bones in his lower legs, and some much shorter, like what had once been his shoulder and forearm. The strangest thing was that nothing of his new body felt 'wrong' or 'strange' - it must be that the internal 'map' of the body within his brain had also been changed, so that his new shape would be also his new 'normal'.

The women had been silent now for a while. He had been noticed, he had moved too much, so his private time to assess himself was over. That was OK. He wanted to try to stand up now, anyway.

Logan didn't expect any cheers when he finally entered the cafeteria, on his way to his room, and he didn't get any. Everyone else, pony and human alike, would be busy now, taking orientation classes, or - for the converted - learning basic physical and grooming skills in the Bureau's shared training area. Logan himself could look forward to the latter, which permitted an additional week to stay at the clinic, the bill paid from the Royal coffers of Equestria. As a pony, he was now automatically a citizen of Equestria, a subject of the Princesses Celestia and Luna. At the end of that final week, he would have two choices; emigration or release.

He intended emigration. Logan had no remaining interest in Earth, and no reason to walk upon it any longer than he absolutely had to. He began to imagine the wonders he would soon experience, when he rode the boat to Equestria. The Bureau provided transport from a newly constructed pier near the complex, via several ships. The ships traveled out to a floating platform that had been towed and placed by the edge of the expanding Barrier, far out at sea. The other side of the barrier was desert, apparently, so it was a simple matter to trot up a ramp from the Earth side, and hop through the shimmering wall onto the sand. The Equestrian side had set up some kind of welcoming center there, with staff to assist newfoals to find places to live, jobs and...

Suddenly, Logan came muzzle to muzzle with pony Elijah.

Logan, startled out of his thoughts, jumped back, or tried to, and landed in a heap of legs and hooves and mane and tail. He briefly felt disoriented; he was still trying to learn how his new body worked. Gradually he understood that he was sitting, more or less, his rear legs splayed out, his front legs crossed over each other, and his still clumsy hooves somehow blocking each other. His tail hurt, because he had landed on it.

"Oh! I am so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going and..." Elijah looked very embarrassed and worried too, he could see Logan struggling to figure out how to get back on his feet.

"Eli-JAH!" Logan was not as much angry as he felt ridiculous; in the Conversion Room, Lynn and Dr. Pastern had helped him stand, but now his hooves felt heavy and he wasn't sure which way to move anything. He felt like a helpless child instead of an adult.

"Just fall over on your side. Go on, it works, trust me!" Elijah seemed earnest enough. Logan didn't know what else to do, so he tried Elijah's advice. Laying on his side in the middle of the cafeteria floor, he felt even more ridiculous, but at least the pain in his tail was going away.

"Now, roll over onto your belly. Everything will make sense then. I promise." Elijah's voice was soft, even kind.

What the hell. Logan rolled over onto his belly; doing so uncrossed his legs, and just as Elijah had said, his limbs suddenly made obvious sense to him. Now he felt even more silly, because he couldn't imagine how he had been so confused but a moment ago.

"It's kind of like being a child again. I fell down the same way, and I felt confused. So I just gave up and fell over, and things worked out. It just takes a little time, that's all." Elijah smiled as Logan regained his hooves, and finally ended up standing again. "You look really amazing, Logan. Your mane is beautiful!" The look in Elijah's face was just so happy, Logan forgot how frustrated he had been just a moment ago.

"Um..." Logan's neck unconsciously bowed down a little, so he found himself looking up at Elijah. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I guess I just felt angry for falling down like an idiot."

"It's OK, Logan. I probably shouldn't have gotten so impatient and galloped out to see if you were awake yet. I've been waiting to greet you after your conversion." Elijah just kept smiling at him. Logan figured Elijah probably didn't like him very much, what with all the arguing and all; what was this all about?

"Listen, Elijah..." Logan wasn't sure how much he wanted to say, but..."I'm really sorry for how I picked on you. I kind of had way too much fun arguing with you. I wasn't trying to be mean, honestly." Logan looked down at his hooves. "I... I've kind of been dealing with a lot of stuff, and you were just there and..."

"And?" The pause had gone on too long for Elijah.

"And..." Logan's voice lowered to a faint, somewhat squeaky whisper. "... and I thought you were kind of cute and I guess I just teased you by arguing with you because I couldn't say anything." Oh crap. That was stupid. It must be his new pony brain. Great, he was retarded. Just splendid. Logan became very red, and began to stumble as quickly as he could back to his room. How could he just say something like that?

He felt his tail being pulled. He couldn't move forward anymore. "Waipt!" Elijah's mouth was full of tail hair.

Logan turned slowly around. Elijah released Logan's tail. "Logan, wait. I knew that. I knew you were giving me a hard time because you weren't sure about me. I could tell you liked me, I saw the way you looked at me."

Oh, crap. Apparently he wasn't able to get away with anything! Logan just sighed. But then he brightened. Elijah wasn't running away.

"Elijah?" Logan lifted his head and looked straight at Elijah's beautiful face. Those intense burgundy eyes!

Elijah just walked forward, past Logan's head and neck, and placed his head over Logan's back. It felt warm and completely comforting. Logan's quick mind instantly sussed what it was; this was a pony hug. With no arms, this is what ponies did to hug. Logan followed Elijah's example and lay his own head across Elijah's back.

There they stood for a long time.

Logan broke the warm silence first. "I guess... you like me, too?"

"I like you too, Logan."

Of course he did! He had argued right back. He could have left at any time. But he stayed and kept it going. Elijah must have felt unsure about Logan, just as he felt unsure about Elijah. Their arguments were just a way of feeling the other out, seeing if any interest was being returned! Logan felt happy. Very happy.

Falling down had been the best thing he had done so far in his new body. It had led to this.

It was all such a happy memory, even if it was so new.

The old couch was soft, it was the middle of the night, and Logan and Elijah were feeling tired. It had been a big day. A wonderful day. They had truly met each other for the first time, with no barriers, honestly and openly, though it had taken being ponified to get there. Logan snuggled into Elijah's hindquarters, his head upon his back.

"Logan?" Logan raised his head. Was he too close? Elijah's head was an inch from his, neck bent back to meet him. Elijah stretched just a bit more, his lips meeting Logan's. It was a sweet kiss, gentle and simple. The two stallions smiled at each other.

"Would it be OK just to stay like this for awhile?" Elijah's voice sounded sleepy.

"I'll probably fall asleep on you." Logan had snuggled his head back into the curve of Elijah's back.

"That's exactly what I..." Elijah yawned. "...would like best."

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Pastern didn't need her Little Golden Books tonight. She was laying, still in her clothes, on the foam bed that Alexi had obtained for her, months ago. And she was happy. More than happy.

She felt ecstatic! Triumphant! Today had been a special day. Two straightforward conversions, no problems, and the best part of all, she had come through for Ryan! She had, as far as she could tell, made history. She had discovered a means to assure the proper conversions of female-to-male transmen. But mostly, she had saved the patient she knew, Ryan Niequist, age twenty-six, male. It had been one hell of an incredible day.

Briefly, Roselyn imagined taking the serum herself. She enjoyed the image in her mind of standing on new hooves on green pastures. It was right there in the Conversion Room. It would take all of fifteen minutes.

Suddenly, a darker thought invaded her mind. If only she had known all of this seven months ago. No, there was nothing she could have done, even if. She was as much a corporate prisoner as those men, in that situation. The ones that had received a sufficient dosage had survived, for a time, as mares of course. The original, red serum was created using only female Equestrian templates.

But they hadn't survived. Dissection of the specimens was needed to establish the totality of the transformation. Pastern shuddered and turned on her side. At least she hadn't had to participate in that. Not directly.

But she had been forced to study the slides, cross-sections, and tissue samples. They had to know, they had said. They had to completely understand before committing the world, the entire species, to Conversion. They had to know that it worked, how well it worked, that Celestia was telling the truth.

And once she was in, there was no way out again.

Her work had helped to establish some of the procedures for all of the Conversion Bureaus. Hers was a tiny part, a small part of it all, but not insignificant. Dosage, efficacy, she had even contributed a tiny amount to the final programming that the nanofluid used to do its job. Not an important section of the programming, but still.

No matter how she tried to see the value of it, the faces of those five men still screamed silently at her. Oh, Celestia. Oh, dear, sweet Celestia.

Roselyn had come to see the regent of Equestria as what she was claimed to be; a living goddess. She hadn't deliberately chosen this view, it just gradually happened to her. Roselyn had become fascinated with the holoimages of the alicorn during her time working with the secret nanotechnomagical research program; her position allowed her access to images and information that the public never got to see.

Roselyn had watched the probe's feed showing Celestia making the Equestrian sun rise into the sky. The world government had firmly censored those images. Only the highest clearance was allowed to know that those images even existed. She had used her situation to study them. After all, if the nanomachines were supposed to be powered by magic, then she needed to understand what magic was, that was her excuse.

Over and over she had obsessively studied the available material on Celestia. She had memorized her face, the details of her crown, the expressions in her eyes, the ethereal rippling of the arcane energy field that stood in place of a mane. There was no deception, no mistake. Celestia was not just an ordinary creature. She was something profoundly more. Something more than flesh and blood.

Celestia could literally control the fundamental forces of the universe she presided over. If that was not a deity, it was the closest thing to it that Roselyn Pastern could imagine.

Roselyn had no idea if this alien goddess heard the prayers of any creature. It was Roselyn's deepest secret that she sometimes prayed to Celestia. In her imagination, in her thoughts, she told Celestia about anything good she might have done to help others, and she begged forgiveness for what she had done in the past. For those men.

She was deeply embarrassed and ashamed of this quirk. It was foolish, stupid, childish. It was insultingly unscientific. Roselyn certainly would never admit to believing in any deity to anyone. There was no basis to even think that Celestia would hear her petty thoughts, or that she would even bother to if she could. Roselyn wasn't even a pony. She was just another killer ape monster from the human world. Those poor men. How could she imagine any mercy for herself?

Damn, this had been a great day. Why did she have to think about that? Why did that old memory have to come back now, right after she had finally done some real good?

Sleep. She just needed some sleep. Roselyn began her nightly routine, undressing, brushing her teeth.

The room was dark now. She curled up around her pillow, holding it across her chest as if it were a doll in her arms. She hugged it tight. She had done good today. She had helped Ryan. She had been useful. She had been compassionate. Why was it never enough? Oh, Celestia, I did good today. I helped a man become his true pony self. My work will help others in the future. I will never stop trying to help. Please, someday, someday... can you let someone like me go home too?

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Alexi could not sleep. He wanted to sleep. But he had gone too far, and he knew it. The Unpleasant Man would not negotiate. He never negotiated. There was no way to get a red case. He knew that, why did he say that he could? How could he have been so stupid?

He had just wanted to help Dr. Pastern. She had said that it was really, really important. The most important thing, a man's life. How could Alexi fail that? Never let it be said that Alexi Venäläinen would stand by and let an innocent die. His mother, god rest her soul, would never forgive him. It had just happened so fast, over the terminal. That unpleasant man, he scared Alexi.

And now he had gotten Caprice mixed up in it. He never should have told her. He could have protected her if he had just answered her "I will lie to you any time I want!" or "Go away you stupid pony!" but he had not. Why hadn't he? Stupid, stupid Alexi. You think you will have a relationship with this girl. But she is not a girl. She is a mare, and you are a foolish human man. Alexi buried his head in his pillow.

Alexi's bed did not seem grand tonight. It seemed far too large for such a small man, and far too good for such a stupid man.

But mostly it just seemed empty. So terribly lonely and empty.

Caprice deserved someone better than him. He knew that. She would find some good and kind stallion in Equestria. Some strong pony that could keep her safe and protect her. If protection was even needed in Equestria, of course.

He should break it off. Alexi thought about it. Yes, he should tell her to leave him alone. Then she would be safe. Somehow, he must find a way to make her dislike him. Then, when the inevitable happened, she would not be hurt. It was the only loving thing to do.

Not that he loved her, of course. No. It was the... responsible thing to do. That was it. Alexi would do the right thing.

He turned over again in his bed. The thought of telling Caprice to go away cut him like a sword.

Alexi was not getting any rest tonight.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Pumpkin Licorice snuggled close to Caprice in the dark. That was her new name, her pony name, much better than 'Sharon'. They had kept their mattresses together, it was just so nice. Caprice had said it was natural, too. "We are ponies, now, not humans. It is natural for little animals to cuddle together, and are we not little animals?" All Pumpkin knew for sure was that she felt safe and warm with Caprice. Caprice was so nice!

Somewhere inside her, Pumpkin imagined her growing foal. Lynn had offered to scan her and tell her whether it was a colt or a filly, but she had asked her not to. She just wanted to do this like any other pony, and somehow using technology just seemed... wrong somehow. Whatever her foal was, she would love it.

Pumpkin liked to daydream about playing with her foal. Mostly she imagined having a filly, and they would run across wide green fields, and nibble flowers together. Her favorite image was having her little filly curled up beside her, sleeping. Just like her and Caprice, now. It was such a sweet image, it made her heart skip.

She really liked being a pony, she decided. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She pressed in a little tighter to Caprice; she could hear her heart beating now. It was so warm. So soft, the smell of her beautiful peach coat.

Dreams of running with her foal began behind Pumpkin's eyelids. In the dark, the little pregnant filly softly smiled.

A Cup Of Terror

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Eleven: A Cup Of Terror

Sandcastle and Summer Raincloud had ponied the front desk all morning now, since Bethany had put them in charge. Both had chosen their new names only that morning, standing at the desk; Logan had decided on Summer Raincloud because that is what he thought the color of his coat resembled. Elijah had named himself Sandcastle for two reasons. One, his coat was the color of sand, and Logan thought that his white mane looked like clouds hanging above tan dunes. The other reason was that Elijah felt that sand castles were associated with summer, and he wanted a special connection with Logan. Both thought this was cute and romantic.

Logan, 'Summer Raincloud', had turned out to be a unicorn, which fascinated them both. Sandcastle was a little jealous at first, but then thought better of it; maybe he himself wasn't a unicorn, but his coltfriend was, and that was the next best thing.

Summer had been trying all morning, on and off, to attempt to do something magical with his new horn, but had no success at all. Sandcastle would find some object under the desk, bring it up in his teeth, set it down on the countertop and say "Ok, try moving this!" or "Change this into a tomato!" or some other seemingly impossible task. A good sport, Summer had patiently tried each time, but had so far not even gotten his horn to glow.

In between attempts, the two talked football. Summer had long been a Manchester fan, Sandcastle was Brazil all the way. Sandcastle's argument was simple; Brazil had ruled the sport for as long as anyone could remember, and the recent worm burner right to goal in the last cup was, as the tan stallion had put it, "Totally, totally awesome!". Manchester by comparison was merely a bunch of talentless thugs. Hopefully, even a deluded mule such as Summer must acknowledge this obvious and scientifically demonstrable fact.

Summer patiently tried to educate the clearly retarded colt about the long history and vital tradition that Manchester represented, not to mention the sheer magnificence of the Red Devils, and how it was clearly just Brazilian Macumba that allowed the admittedly awesome bastards to cheat their way magically to victory. Surely the simple little foal could comprehend that.

"Whoa, Summer?" Oh no, did Sandcastle have something else for him to try to levitate? "Do you think they play footie in Equestria?" It was a serious question. What if they didn't? That would be a tragedy! Suddenly, Equestria seemed less a paradise, and more a barren, hellish landscape of desperate survival.

"I honestly do not know, Sands." Both pondered the horror. "I know - if they don't play the Beautiful Game yet, then they will. Even if we have to make our own teams from scratch!"

"Brilliant! Maybe we'll bring the game to all the ponies and we'll be famous and get matching football cutie marks!" Sandcastle was thrilled at this notion.

"Summer and Sandcastle, the famous stallions that brought football to Equestria! Yes... I like it. I like that a lot!" Summer pondered what it would take. Would they need permission from the princesses to go national?

"Unless they already play it. Or something like it. How could we find out?" Sandcastle began searching around the area of the desk. "Hey! We can just look it up on the hypernet. We have a terminal here, so, lets use it!"

Summer stared at Sandcastle for a moment. Maybe he really was a little light in the lobes. "No hands, remember?"

Sandcastle drooped. "Oh. Duh. Hey, I've only been a pony for a day now. Well, two days, technically." Suddenly Sandcastle brightened. "Wait! I know! Try using your horn on it!" Big smile.

Summer just groaned.

"Hi boys!" Thankfully, Bethany was back. "Shift's over, lads, time to go get some lunch. Shoo, shoo!" Beth was territorial about her desk. "Hey! What's all this stuff doing all over the counter?"

Summer and Sandcastle beat a hasty retreat to the cafeteria.

"What the hell were they doing up here?" Bethany began putting the stuff she kept at the counter back where it belonged. "Ewww..." Beth's face showed disgust. "There's saliva all over my phone!"

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

It was both the most exciting, and the quietest lunch in the history of the clinic 042 cafeteria. The 'animals' had behaved themselves so very well that Alexi and Caprice found themselves staying in the lunch room, rather than retreating to her room. They sat at one of the low Kang tables; Miriam had filled the makeshift nursing bottle with a milk and cream mixture, carefully warmed. Caprice was feeding her new daughter, holding the glass with the rubber glove in her teeth. Buttermilk was eagerly gulping the contents.

Sitting on the other side of Caprice, also close, was Pumpkin, who was cooing softly at little Buttermilk; she was mesmerized by the tiny creature; not only was the little unicorn cute, Pumpkin would soon enough have her own foal to nurture.

Alexi, for his part, seemed to have lost any remaining human inhibitions, and sat close to Caprice, with an arm around her. He was in every respect the proud papa, whatever had happened inside him had dramatically changed his attitude.

The staff of the clinic, the applicants, and the newfoals had formed a circle around the unusual family, sitting on the floor, on the tops of tables, anywhere to be close enough to watch. No one there had ever seen an Equestrian as young as Buttermilk, and all were fascinated by the sheer novelty of an infant newfoal.

Dr. Pastern and Lynn were quietly eating their lunches at a table away from the crowded circle; they did not particularly feel the need to stare at a foal suckling at a rubber glove; they were simply hungry.

"Alexi... is an interesting man, I have to say." Lynn had seemed a bit disturbed by the show of affection in the corridor; it was not everyday that one saw a man kissing a pony, and there were numerous cultural issues with such an act. "I don't know how I'm supposed to process any of this."

"Come on, Lynn, we're in a new world here." Dr. Pastern had already thought about the inevitability of situations such as had happened with Alexi and Caprice. "You like old media; you're always trying to get me to watch this or see that - this is no different than... what was that show, the one with the aliens and the space ship?"

"Star Trek. And Babylon Five. You really should see those, Ros. They're really good - for pre-collapse programs." Lynn had a plate full of vegetarian goulash, she was disappointed that it wasn't very spicy.

"Yeah, 'Babylon Trek' or whatever. Anyway, they had humans mating with aliens on those shows you once told me. And that other one, 'Alien Country' or whatever, that was all about a human and an alien having a sexual relationship." Roselyn had gone for the tofu surprise; sadly, the only surprise was that it had less spice than the goulash.

"'Alien Nation'. Again, really good, so what's your point?" Lynn tried a bit of Roselyn's tofu, then immediately went back to her goulash.

"All of these shows had relationships between humans and alien beings, right?" Roselyn decided that the tofu was just too bland, and went for her vanilla-like pudding instead. "And nobody freaked out over any of it, did they? And these beings, they evolved on completely different worlds, with completely alien biologies, correct?"

"Yeah, that was true of all those shows. Some even had half-breed children. They used genetic engineering to make it work or something." Lynn sipped her orange juice. It wasn't real of course, but it was orange at least.

"Equestrians are from here, more or less. I mean, consider them. They're not terrestrial ponies, not in the least. But they are too close to earthly creatures to be a coincidence, or to be some kind of parallel evolution. There is some history between Equestria and our world, there has to be." Roselyn liked the pudding. Not bad, actually, she thought. "So tell me Lynn, which is creepier - a human kissing some totally alien creature from a distant world, a creature that evolved under completely different circumstances, and ended up with a completely alien biology.... or a human kissing a sapient being that we know is made from basically the same stuff as us, and which must reasonably have some distant - if unknown- connection to our own world?"

"It's not the same thing, Ros! All the Star Trek aliens looked human, well, except for having weird foreheads."

"So it's just all about appearance then? It's OK to have relations with a horrifically alien creature as long as they look kind of like us?" Roselyn had run out of pudding and was working on a muffin.

"Alexi was kissing a pony. That's the problem. There used to be laws about that sort of thing a long time ago." Lynn as still plowing through her goulash, it might be bland, but it was food, and she was pretty hungry.

"Alexi could BE a pony, in just fifteen minutes, Lynn. That is the world we live in now. Pony, human, the difference between these two creatures is fifteen minutes and three ounces of serum. You could be a pony by the end of lunch! What does it matter whether anyone's lips are ape or equine at this point? In the end, everyone will have to be equine, so really, aren't we all predestined ponies now, in the end?" Roselyn wondered if she could kiss an Equestrian stallion, as a human. How would that feel? Ultimately, what did it matter?

"Alright, fine." Lynn was tired of the discussion. "It just bothered me I guess, because, well, I don't know anymore. Hey, what about whoever we were supposed to convert this morning? Were they upset to get bumped?" Changing the subject was often a good idea around Roselyn, she had a tendency to over-analyze every topic.

"Haven't heard a peep. Apparently Caprice had a talk with him and... he was more than gracious about giving up his slot for little Buttermilk. Maybe we should hire her to wrangle the animals." Roselyn pushed her tray away, the muffins were gone, and she wasn't willing to face the tofu again.

"I think Bethany would object to that; we can only have one receptionist." Lynn nodded over at the center of the lunch crowd circle. "Besides, Caprice already seems to have an entire ranch going."

In the center of the circle, Pumpkin was now holding the homebrew baby bottle in her mouth, and was having a turn feeding Buttermilk. Caprice was grooming Pumpkin's mane, trying to untangle part of it near her ear. Alexi was busy finally chowing down, he was a hungry, hungry man it seemed. They all did make quite the domestic scene. It was easy to imagine them all living together on some Equestrian farm.

That was when the gentle quiet was shattered by the sound of Bethany screaming. She was screaming because the shotgun blast had obliterated her face and blinded her.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

He had considered wearing one of the captured blackmesh armor suits, but decided against that for several reasons. One was that none of them were exactly his size; the suits needed to correctly fit or they just did not look convincing. Another reason was that he might be asked too many questions; blackmesh guards tended to sit in specific locations, or patrol very small areas - he might stand out walking around the complex, looking for a specific clinic.

The answer was obvious when he finally realized it; deliverymen could go anywhere. They were expected to be uncertain about where they needed to be, and it was normal to have them looking about, trying to find the correct address. Dressed as a deliveryman, Billy Culpepper could pretty much go wherever he wanted, and he would not appear suspicious at all.

There were two kinds of deliverymen left; worldcorp security transport and local zone shipping. As a Northwest Zone Shipping man, he would have the greatest freedom; worldcorp security was far more direct, and would not have much excuse to wander around - they already would know where anything important was.

Fortunately, the militia had confiscated an entire rack of zone shipping clothing, so it was no problem to find a suit that fit.

This however meant that Billy would be going in without the benefit of blackmesh armor, or any armor, which would mean he would need to be quick and precise. He would also need to leave before things got complicated; this meant a very simple hit-and-run operation.

He had worked out an optimal strategy; he would carry his weapons in the package to be delivered, electronically cloaked to prevent detection at the security doors. Billy had considered what was available, and how it might be used.

He wished he had an automatic weapon available, but all the ammo for those had been used up recently in a skirmish with a local gang that had rather seriously wanted inside the HLF compound. That left only pistols and shotguns. Billy had his own, personal piece, of course, but that was for... special occasions. He went with a shotgun, but he needed more.

One thing they were not short of at the present was explosives. Billy picked out two of the amazing grenades constructed by their talented demolitions expert. His name was Sergio, and he was very, very good at working with explosives. The grenades were compact, lethal, and Sergio was a genius at area effects. These babies were filled with precisely placed BB's, embedded inside the explosive medium within carefully designed layers. The result was an antipersonnel device that shredded entire areas, maximizing lethality inside a disk-shaped region intended to clear entire rooms, or provide total area denial in wide spaces.

Billy really respected Sergio. Everyone did, really.

The plan was simple and direct; enter the complex, find clinic 042, disable or kill any initial contacts to prevent alarms, and then proceed to any crowded space and toss a delayed pineapple. Then it was just a matter of getting the hell out of there, playing up the part of frightened delivery man if stopped. If he was quick enough, he wouldn't be stopped.

That was what got amateurs captured or killed. Drama. There is no drama in a proper action; the goal is to be machine precise, fast, exacting. No wasted motions, no stopping to see results. Be the machine. Go in, deliver, and get out. This is what made Billy great. Once he was on mission, he was a machine.

Daniel wanted to go with him, of course, supposedly as support, but the fact of it was that he was there to make sure that Billy would complete the job. Billy also considered the possibility of a friendly frag along the way; it was no secret Dan wanted to be top dog. Daniel could come, but only if Richards came too. Dan wasn't exactly pleased with that. This had made Billy smile.

They were professionals; they encountered no resistance approaching the AppleSoft complex. Billy double checked his equipment, the timing on his two grenades, and the ready state of his shotgun. Everything was repacked and ready, and it was go time.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Whistling a merry tune, the Delivery Man walked up to the entrance of the San Francisco Conversion Bureau. He carried a long package under his arm, and struggled with it as he opened the front door. Inside, he walked over to the blackmesh security station and asked about the location of Clinic 042, showing them a NWZ-J Googlzon Order Delivery Form. He was directed to the Second floor, section B, and wished a good day. He passed the Bureau main desk, and walked around the dead tree in the entrance garden.

The Delivery Man smiled at the receptionist from Clinic 011; it was her break and she liked to go up to the roof to look at the Equestrian Barrier. He nodded at the two newfoals from Clinic 036, Limerick and Pattycake; they were known at the Bureau as the prankster twins and their tricks were legendary. Up the unmoving escalator stairs the Delivery Man went; Bureau Central Planning had never gotten around to funding repairs to the elevators.

Finally the Delivery Man found himself at a row of modular clinics, built on the second tier of the immense complex. The zero-forties faced the rail, looking down on the entrance; Clinic 042 was third from the broken escalator. He walked without hesitation to the large security door of the prefabricated construction.

Just inside the security door, the Delivery Man spied the receptionist at the counter. She was the first threat; she had access to the alarm system. He smiled and approached, making small talk. He accidentally dropped the package, and bent over to retrieve it. He opened the package and lifted out the shotgun. The receptionist saw the man rise, shotgun in hand, the barrel pointed directly at her face.

Then her world became wet blackness.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

"What the..?" Roselyn jumped to her feet; She could hear Bethany screaming and screaming. Lynn stood up too, right beside her. "Ros, that was a gunshot! Shit! We're under attack!" Groups such as the Human Liberation Front and the God's Planet Army were always making threats; both women remembered the recent attack on the Ottawa Bureau. "Lynn! The Conversion Room! It's a fortress. Get everyone in there, as many as will fit. I'll call security!"

Roselyn ran off down the corridor to the Conversion Room. Quickly, she entered her passcode, and swung the door wide. She grabbed the box of elastic gloves and slammed it down to hold the door open for Lynn. Roselyn ran to the wall by the holoterminal and punched the big red button on the yellow, striped panel there. Alarms rang out throughout clinic 042, an additional alert sent to every terminal in the building. The blackmesh would already be on their way.

A face floated in front of the holoterminal. It was one of the blackmesh commanders, what's his name? -Roselyn couldn't remember in the moment, it didn't matter anyway - she explained what she had heard, and what she was doing. He informed her that help was on the way, that she was ordered to seal the Conversion Room immediately and await recovery. It was her duty to protect the Red Case at all costs, regardless of risk or casualty. The face vanished.

Roselyn went to the door. Lynn and the others should have been here by now. Only the corridor separated the cafeteria from the Conversion Room. Something was very wrong. Roselyn listened carefully. She could hear soft weeping under the constant alarm. An angry man's voice told someone to shut up. The weeping became muffled.

The angry man must be the attacker. Why had he not charged the Conversion Room? Lynn. Lynn must have told him that the clinic doctor had sealed herself in the armored room! It was standard protocol. The attacker must either know that, or have simply believed her. That must be it. The blackmesh guards would be outside the clinic by now. The sirens stopped. Roselyn could hear the blackmesh using a loudspeaker to address the man.

The red case sat on the counter beside her. Inside it was the Erlenmeyer flask containing eight remaining ounces of nanotechnomagical serum. It was the only non-expendable thing in the room, indeed within the whole of the clinic. She had been briefed about such situations; potential attackers would likely be after the serum either to destroy it, or more importantly to collect a sample of it. The greatest fear was that groups opposed to conversion might develop a means to render it useless. Nothing was more important than keeping the serum from unauthorized access. She must close the door and seal the room. Her duty was utterly clear.

Then Roselyn heard the voice of Alexi in the cafeteria. He was yelling that someone should 'Leave her alone' and that if someone needed to be shot it should be him. What was going on in there? Suddenly there was a shot, followed by screams and crying. The attacker yelled for silence. The weeping turned to muffled sobs. Roselyn heard a plaintive voice softly calling a name over and over. It was 'Alexi'.

Fuck her duty.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Things had gone wrong for William Duke Culpepper - he had taken out the receptionist, he had arrived during lunch, when everyone would be distracted and conveniently located in one place - but somehow the doctor had fled to the Abomination Room. Those things were built to survive tactical nukes; she must have set off the alarm. Dammit. He had been quick and precise, he did not expect these pony lovers to be quite that ready.

It could all still work out though; he had hostages. Over two dozen hostages, some human, some freaks, but all useful. The blackmesh were acting as expected; they had made their demands. Soon they would send a negotiator. That was their weakness, of course. Billy would never send a negotiator, except as a ruse. If he were the one outside the clinic, he would just order his men in guns blazing. Civilian casualties would be inevitable, but acceptable; done right not one of his own men would even be wounded. But these government tools were hamstrung by the policies of weak-willed corporate bureaucrats.

That would get him out of here. He had planned for this, too.

Billy scanned the terrified lunch crowd, all face down, hands behind heads -or for the freaks- as flat as they could manage. None of them would have any weapons, they would not dare to rise as one; someone might get hurt. That was the secret of crowd control. They could take him in an instant, overpower him with nothing but the mass of their number, if they were not all cowards.

But they were terrified now, he had demonstrated his power, and they were cowed. The man he had shot had stood to protect one of the alien freaks! Of course he had shot him. Billy would have liked to have killed the pony-lover outright, but a wounded man is a greater burden to an enemy than a dead man. Basic strategy. One of the loathsome aliens was weeping over the race traitor now. Excellent. Suffering breeds obedience.

Billy held one of Sergio's fragmentation devices in his hand. In the other, he held one of his two standard pistols. If negotiation did not work out, he would take everyone with him. His name would be legendary, an inspiration to the cause of humanity itself.

No negotiator came. Instead, an amplified voice from outside addressed him. "William Culpepper. You have been identified by Bureau Security. We have your co-conspirators, Daniel Elliott and Samuel Richards in custody. Lay down your weapons, and then lay down on the floor, arms behind your back. You will not be hurt if you comply. This will be your only warning."

What the hell? This is not what happens! They were going to come in gunning for him. They didn't give a crap about their own people in here! It wasn't possible. And leave it to those idiots, Dan and Richards to get themselves caught. Jesus fucking Christ. Fools.

That was it then. This was the end. Fine. He had always been prepared to give his life for humanity. But dammit, if only he could take more of them with him. Ah! He had two fine fragmentation grenades, hand built by the best explosives expert he had ever known. "Just a moment!" Billy yelled out towards the front door, past the common area. "I will comply! I will comply!"

Billy began to creep towards the front of the clinic. The low moans of the receptionist grew louder. The front doors had been pulled open from outside, but there was no one to be seen; the blackmesh would be crouching on either side. Idiots. They probably expected him to panic and try to make a run for it out of what seemed like a clear path. He would give them a little gift, instead.

Billy crouched down next to the wall leading into the entrance chamber. In front of him was the reception desk, somewhere around the corner must be what was left of the receptionist. Her low moans and burbles were the only sound now.

Putting his pistol into his pocket, Billy held the grenade in both of his hands. He gave one last glance beyond the desk, then turned his attention to the device. He set the switch for a fifteen second delay after any sharp impact. He could press a button to activate the grenade, toss it, and be back in the cafeteria in that time, safe from the storm of shrapnel it would produce. It was likely he could kill the entire group, leaving a truly free path to escape. Dan and Sam were on their own, the idiots.

Billy entered the three digit arming code and prepared to press the activation trigger. As he stood up, he smelled something. It smelled like... grape. Like artificial grape soda. What the? His arm was wet! So was half of his back. It was dripping into his pants. Billy whirled around, his arm cramping up on him.

A redheaded woman in a lab coat stood facing Billy, a toothsome feral grin on her face; her eyes were angry and narrowed. She was breathing heavily. In her gloved hand she held a large jar or flask of some kind; the remains of some purple fluid still in it.

Billy couldn't throw the grenade. He couldn't press the activator; he couldn't feel his fingers. He couldn't even move his arm; it just kept cramping harder and harder, folding tight against his body. Now the right side of his chest began to cramp as well. The pain was... it was...

Roselyn stood watching as the delivery man began to fold in upon himself. He was clutching some kind of device in what remained of his right limb; already what had been an arm had become an amorphous blob of waxy, rippling flesh. The man screamed, gurgling in his throat, as he rolled slowly over on the ground. Half of his head was now bald, a waxy mass of squirming agonized tissues. As he rolled over in terror and pain, she could see his wide-mouthed shrieking face, half human and half... something else.

The device he had held softly rolled away as the man writhed on the floor. His clothing ripped and shredded around him, split by opposing sides of his body struggling against each other.

Roselyn did not even notice the blackmesh guards surrounding her and the delivery man; her eyes were fixed entirely on the unfolding horror. The gurgling man had begun to choke on his own vomit, his left eye pushed entirely outside of his rapidly deforming skull. The dangling eye swung to and fro as spasm after spasm wracked his twisting form. She could hear his bones break and shatter inside the meat of him, as the increasingly equinoid right half of his body no longer matched the unchanged human left half.

Blood shot out of the dissimilar sides of the asymmetrical monsters head, pouring through two vastly different nostrils, and also out of the twisted, ripped gash that once had been a mouth. The abomination's aberrant abdomen tore itself open, spilling dancing intestines that ripped themselves open as they swarmed on the ground like fat, pink snakes. Finally, the mass of heaving tissues gagged and shook; then lay still, drenched in blood, vomit and feces.

Roselyn's feral grin began to fade as the reality of what she had done set in. Oh Celestia. Oh Celestia. What had she done, what had she... Roseyln looked down at her surgically gloved hand. In it was the open Erlenmeyer flask. A small drip of purple ran down her glove to spatter on the floor. Oh, dear sweet Celestia, what had she done?

"Doctor Roselyn Pastern, SFCB Clinic 042, you are charged with violating corporate directive 001-A: Primary Protection Of The Transformative Element. I need you to place the flask carefully on the floor for collection, and then submit to immediate detention prior to..." The young blackmesh soldier was suddenly punched on the arm by an older blackmesh soldier, clearly his superior. "What the fuck are you doing, Jenkins?"

"Sir, I am taking this individual into custody for corporate policy violation, SIR!"

"Do you see what I am holding here, Jenkins?" The older blackmesh held out his hand, in it was one of the devices that the delivery man had been holding when he was dying. "This is a composite fragmentation device. Expertly made, I might add. Our perp here was about to toss it out the door before the good doctor here stopped him. If she hadn't we would all be very, very dead." The soldier let this sink in to the younger blackmesh for a moment. "You owe her your life, soldier. Say thank you to the doctor."

Soldier Jenkins blinked, stared at the grenade, then looked up at Roselyn. "Uh...excuse me, Ma'am. And... thank you. Thank you very much." His eyes were wide, his pupils small.

"Ms..." The older soldier checked his datalink. "...Pastern, I think maybe you should get that jug back into proper storage now." Roselyn was still frozen, staring at the twisted half-pony on the floor "Ms. Pastern? Please?"

Roselyn looked up suddenly, her face still a mask of horror. "Yes. The... jug. Right... away. Thank you, soldier." Roselyn turned and began to walk back towards the Conversion Room, unsteadily at first, then more quickly.

The older blackmesh looked down at the corpse. "Daaaamn." The body was contorted, limbs bent and contracted like some giant, dead insect. One brown human eye hung from a short stalk, pointing towards the floor, on the other side of the thing's head, bright pink hair hung in clumps around an impossibly huge violet eye. The violet eye blindly stared at the ceiling, glazing over as it cooled.

Dr. Roselyn Pastern walked mechanically through the common room. She bumped into the rumpled couch. Looking down, she saw that it had blocked her path. She stood there, wondering how she could get past it. Slowly, it dawned on her that she would have to move slightly to the left to continue. With difficulty, she changed direction and walked around the obstacle, then turned to face the cafeteria again.

As she was walking, Lynn ran up to her. "Ros! Roselyn! Alexi's been shot. He's bleeding out. Ros! Snap out of it! Dammit we need you!" Roselyn looked up. Everything seemed so far away, and she felt so numb inside. "Roselyn! Goddammit!" Roselyn felt hands on the sides of her cheeks. They belonged to Lynn. Lynn's face was very close now. "Doctor Roselyn Pastern, you are needed immediately. We have a possible code blue immanent. Gunshot trauma to the abdomen with massive loss of blood. What do we do?"

Years of internship began to overcome her shock. "W-Where's the patient. Take me to the patient. Get... We need replacement blood volume, stat." Lynn led the doctor to the center of the cafeteria. The crowd parted around them.

Caprice was leaning heavily, putting all of her weight onto her front legs. These were buried deep into Alexi Venäläinen's stomach. Blood covered his shirt and the floor. Blood had soaked the peach pony's legs. Alexi's face was very pale. He was breathing in short gasps, his eyes rolled in pain, his hands clenched tightly together, the nails digging deep into his palms.

Tiny squirts of blood oozed from around Caprice's crimson hooves. Dr. Pastern recognized that she was putting all of her weight on Alexi's exposed abdominal artery, clamping it effectively closed. Pastern was impressed, if she had not shut the artery, Alexi would have bled out in seconds. Only the intense pressure of her heavy hooves was keeping him momentarily alive.

"Hemofreeze. We need Hemofreeze!" The ultimate coagulant and stabilizer, it not only sealed even major ruptures of primary arteries, but stabilized the patient through nanotech agents. Roselyn had bent down to examine the wound; Alexi's abdomen was open, she could see part of his stomach and some of his large intestine.

"We don't have it, Ros." Lynn spoke very quietly. "We don't have any blood substitute either. We only have basic supplies, remember?" Lynn was beginning to see that there was nothing that could be done, something she had not wanted to admit.

"FUCK! The solution's right here!" Roselyn lifted the Erlenmeyer. "Sorry, Alexi, but it's time to go pony. Goddamit, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Then she saw how much was left in the flask. It wasn't much. It was definitely less than three ounces.

"Lynn! Go to 043. Get their serum. Get more serum NOW! Run!" Pastern felt cold dread inside.

"You know that they won't..." Lynn began. "I'll try. I'll try." Lynn immediately got up and ran for the front of the clinic.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Roselyn stared at the Erlenmeyer in her gloved hands. She had tossed the contents without thinking, there was so little left. She tried to hold the flask level, to read the gradation marks. How much was in there, exactly? Two... two and a fourth, perhaps. Two and a fourth ounces. It wasn't enough. The process could end prematurely. It just wasn't enough. It probably wasn't enough.

Somehow, Roselyn found herself staring into Caprice's eyes. She didn't remember looking up, but she must have. In those eyes was a desperation that Roselyn had only seen once before in her life, on the face of a heavy, unkempt man, bolted into a frame, hissing because he could not scream.

"Lynn will not return in time. You must." Caprice's voice was quiet, yet it was the only thing Roselyn could hear. It was like the room was suspended in time, and the only thing in that moment were those green eyes, that peach face, and those words.

Reality returned in a rush, the sound of crying, the sound of running feet, the ragged gasps getting weaker, slower, and more irregular. Alexi was dying, and there was nothing else to be done.

Roselyn Pastern held the Erlenmeyer out, over the open crater where Alexi's belly has once been, the space where Caprice's sodden, bloody hooves crushed Alexi's abdominal aorta closed. She dribbled about a third of the flask into the cavity. Immediately, the raw tissues began to react, puffing up like rapidly rising dough.

Next, she carefully poured another third into Alexi's barely gasping mouth. Purple fluid bubbled with his breathing, a small trickle escaped his mouth and dribbled down his cheek. As the fluid ran across his skin, it melted into his face, leaving a puffy, swelling line where the serum had been absorbed. Somehow, Alexi managed to swallow. Then he fell silent, and his breathing stopped.

The bulging, rippling tissues within his abdominal cavity began to balloon out even more, pushing Caprice's hooves away. "Caprice! Off!" Pastern shouted. The peach pony pulled her dripping red hooves out of Alexi. They now made pools on the floor beside him.

Pastern poured the last of the Erlenmeyer into the lower portion of the still open cavity. She hammered the bottom of the flask to try to get every remaining drop out of it. Then noticing streaks of purple on her gloves, she wiped them on Alexi's arms and legs, until the gloves appeared clean.

It was only then that Roselyn remembered that there was no anesthesia in the flask. She had simply grabbed the bottle and crept out to deal with the attacker. Oh, Celestia! she thought, and her face turned pale.

Alexi's body rippled and writhed. There was no trace of the purple nanofluid now, it had been entirely absorbed. Roselyn looked down and saw tiny fibrous tendrils snaking out of Alexi's abdominal cavity, growing like weeds through the copious pool of blood on the floor. "Get back! Everyone! Back away!" The nanomachines were loose, coursing through flesh and blood wherever they could reach. "Caprice! Back! Back! The blood!"

Caprice finally understood and leapt back just as the tiny, rootlike tendrils invaded the two splotches where her hooves had dripped on the floor.

As they watched, the blobs of blood and spattered tissues swelled and began to squirm. The tendrils pulled the still living tissues together into what was now an almost amorphous central mass. The open cavity in the center began to close, the torn edges sealing together like ragged lips. Huge waves and contortions of muscle, fat and connective tissue caused the entire mass to flop and slap the floor like some large, nightmarish abalone, cut from its shell and tossed alive into a hot frying pan.

Suddenly, Dr. Pastern stood up, turned away, and ran for the corridor that led away from the cafeteria.

The lumpen thing that had been Alexi Venäläinen thumped and bumped the floor faster and faster, loud wet smacks spanking the tiles of the cafeteria. Then the flopping and squirming began to lessen, as a familiar equinoid shape gradually became discernible. The crude shape of wings began to protrude from the sides and back of the mass.

A low, moaning sound emanated from the fleshy, writhing mass. It grew in intensity as new lungs sucked in air. The nearly naked shape, covered only in fragments of shredded clothing began to breath out again. The breath took on sound as newly regenerated vocal cords began to vibrate. The sound became a yell, which turned into a scream. The scream became a repetitive shriek, interspersed with ragged, sucking breaths.

Huge eyeballs surfaced in the doughy head, and the eyelid skin covering them strained desperately to open in horror, but they could not; the upper and lower lids had not yet unsealed.

Pastern was running back. She held in her hands two large syringes, each fully loaded with a clear liquid. "Make Way!" She shouted, as humans and newfoals parted from where they had crowded back around.

Roselyn dropped to her knees, sliding on the tiles. She laid the syringes down, to free her hands. With one newly emptied hand she grasped a tortured, spasming leg, and sought anything that might be a vein or an artery. Beneath the quivering skin, dark vessels wiggled like snakes. She picked up one of the syringes and took a best guess, plunging into the twisting, shifting mass.

Gradually the shrieking softened, turning to yells, and then moans. Pastern kept slowly injecting the anesthetic, knowing that it was being deconstructed almost as soon as it entered the body. But if the sounds that came from the rapidly forming newfoal were any gauge, it was at least helping, it was significantly better than nothing.

Lynn was still not back. Roselyn studied the quieting form of the emerging newfoal. "Come on, you little buggers!" A tear dropped down her cheek. "COME ON, DON'T YOU GIVE UP!" The syringe was empty, she pulled it out and tossed it aside. "Dammit, Dammit..." The fleshy, naked shape was now a complete stallion. It moved slowly, shivering. A line appeared at the bottom of an eye, and the eye suddenly ripped wide, exposing a bright purple iris, and a tiny, contracted pupil. But still no coat, no tail. The almost pony moved its naked mouth soundlessly, as if trying to speak.

Roselyn was crying now, her fists balled up and on the floor. Her tears dripped onto the quivering, naked flesh. "If there is any magic left, if there is any power left in you little machines..." A sob wracked her frame. "CELESTIA! HEAR ME! LET THIS PONY LIVE!" Roselyn collapsed into herself, crying openly, it had been too much, too much pain today, too much horror, just too much, just too much, just too much.

The almost stallion gave a loud sigh as it's head fell from where it had lifted in pain. The head hit the tiles, the eyes closing. It lay still and naked. Several people in the crowd covered their mouths, or began to cry. Caprice, tears dropping from her eyes, laid her head down sideways on the unfinished body.

Caprice's eyes took in a landscape of flesh, bare and pink. Suddenly, tiny hairs began to sprout, pushing their way up out of the field of pink. She could feel them pressing against her own coat, and tickling the sides of her mouth. She raised her head, startled.

The stallion gasped, choked, and breathed in again. The awn hairs shooting out had been overcome by guard hairs, strong and thick, a brilliant, shining white. White feathers began to grow out of the naked wings, drying as they unfurled like tiny, white flags. Bright purple eyes opened wide again, this time the pupils were large. "Caaaa.... Caaappprrr....." The stallion tried to speak. "Caaappprrriiiccce..."

"I'm here, I'm right here Alexi!" Caprice was desperately nuzzling and licking pony Alexi's face and lips. "I'm right here. I'm here. I'm right here!"

A bright, deep blue mane shot out of Alexi's crest, withers and poll, shiny, straight, and strong. A blue tail spooled out, long and luxurious. "Caprice, oh my Caprice, my lovely Caprice..." Alexi kept repeating her name, over and over.

Roselyn was sitting up now, her hands over her mouth in disbelief and joy. She was laughing and crying now, unsure what she was feeling, except that she knew she was glad.

Lynn ran up, breathing heavily. In her hand was a red case. "I GOT SOME!" she panted and babbled rapidly: "043 wouldn't give me any so I just ran to 044 and I just ran in there and I grabbed their case and I ran out again and..." Lynn suddenly noticed Alexi and Caprice kissing long and deep on the floor. Cheers filled the air.

Roselyn turned and hugged Lynn's knees, crying and laughing.

Suddenly, Roselyn stopped. "Lynn!" Dr. Pastern grabbed the remaining syringe, and quickly got up. "FOLLOW ME, NOW!" Pastern grabbed Lynn's free hand and began dragging her violently towards the front of the clinic. "BETH! We have to save Beth!"

Roselyn and Lynn stumbled past the common room and into the reception area. Dr. Belden from 044 was already there accompanied by the blackmesh soldiers Pastern had dealt with before. "There's the thief! Look!" Said the elderly doctor "She still has our red case in her hand!"

Lynn didn't know what to say. The older blackmesh soldier was puzzled, what was going on now? Roselyn suddenly tore the red case from Lynn's hand and dashed behind the reception counter. There, curled into a blood soaked ball, the coagulated remains of Bethany's blind skull gurgled and whimpered. Beth's body shook and quivered in pain and shock. A vast pool of blood covered the floor, more was oozing out constantly, a slow but unstoppable flow.

Dr. Pastern sat down with a splash in the blood and got to work.

Roselyn put the syringe she had been carrying in her lap, and turned to the red case. She entered a top secret universal passcode on the active surface of the case. It was a code only intrusted to those in the Bureau with an Umbra-Cosmik-Magik level clearance; Roselyn, of course, had that exact clearance. The case opened. She took out 044's Erlenmeyer, removed the stopper, and with a free hand, grabbed Bethany by her blood soaked hair, and wrenched her head into a better position. Bethany's ruined mouth spat teeth at Roselyn, her empty eyesockets gleamed with fragments of bone and dried blood. As a sticky, bloody tooth slowly slid down Roselyn's cheek, she poured her best guess of three or more ounces down the wide hole where Beth's lower jaw partially remained.

Roselyn set the Erlenmeyer down, and picked up the anesthetic syringe. As Bethany began her conversion, Roselyn slowly administered the anesthetic. Only then did she realize that she had put no thought as to whether Bethany's allergenotype was the same as Alexi's. Shit! That was a two in three chance that she would potentially kill Beth while trying to save her! She removed the needle.

Bethany had already turned waxy and begun to change. "The difference between a poison and a drug is dosage." Roselyn said the ancient words out loud, talking to herself. It was not too insane; if she kept the amount of anesthetic very, very low, and administered it only occasionally, the nanomachines could potentially compensate for any dangerous reaction. Beth had certainly gotten a full portion of serum, probably more like four ounces. There would be enough to cover ongoing damage as well as complete conversion!

Roselyn reinserted the syringe, and injected only when Bethany started to show signs of unbearable pain. Roselyn kept the level as low as possible, constantly checking for any sign of allergenic response in the reconstructing tissue. Nothing untoward occurred - either Roselyn had lucked out, or the extra serum combined with gradual administration was a valid concept.

As Bethany began to grow a coat of chestnut hair, Roselyn noticed boots and legs standing around her. Beside her, Dr. Belden looked down, his face no longer angry. Roselyn knew he was a nice man, he just hadn't understood why his case had been taken. The blackmesh soldiers stood on the other side of the desk, beyond where Bethany lay, and standing with them was Lynn. Lynn gave Roselyn a supportive nod.

A light red mane and tail appeared, finishing the transformation. Bethany's eyes fluttered open. "Ayyy caaan seee. I can see! I can see!" Tears dripped from her fresh new eyes. It must have been terrible to have been both blind and without a face for so long, alone, in terrible pain.

"I'm sorry we stole your case, Dr. Belden." Roselyn's eyes were red, and her face weary. "There just wasn't time to argue."

Dr. Belden put his hand on Roselyn's shoulder. "I understand, Dr. Pastern. But I'll need you to figure out how we can account for things, later, OK?" The old doctor gave Roselyn a smile, and patted her. "It's alright, boys, there's been no crime here. My mistake."

"I understand, sir." The older blackmesh turned to his subordinate. "Come on Jenkins, peepshow's over."

Private Jenkins, who had never witnessed a conversion before, was still in shock. "S-sir. R-right sir. Coming. Sir."

Roselyn turned back to Beth. "Beth? How are you feeling? Listen, I had to convert you. You had... you were really bad off. I'm sorry." The Bureau did not have a good health plan; Beth would have been fortunate to have even basic treatment before being dismissed out to the street, blind and helpless.

"No, it's alright... Ros." Pony Beth looked up with wide, ruby eyes. "This was... it was a really good day to go pony. Thank you. Oh, god, it's so good to be able to see again. Thank you."

"At least your tumors won't be bothering you anymore." Roselyn tried to smile, but it was hard to smile today.

"I'm almost going to miss those things!" Bethany lifted her head and looked at what she could see of her new body. "I'm a redhead! I always wanted red hair like yours."

Roselyn patted Bethany's side. "You make a pretty pony, Bethany. You'll turn all the stallions' heads."

Beth pressed her head against Roselyn's knees, where she sat on the floor. "I was really... it was horrible, Ros. It was just..." Roselyn leaned over the chestnut pony, and tried to comfort her as best as she could, while Bethany cried and cried. Roselyn began to cry too, the terrible events of the day overcoming her completely.

The two pulled together, Beth's pony head in Roselyn's lap now, both rocking and crying and pressing tight.

They sat that way, sobbing, holding each other in a drying pool of blood, teeth and human hair, for a long, long time.

A Cup Of Love

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Twelve: A Cup Of Love

San Francisco Conversion Bureau Clinic 042 had a somber dinner. It was more therapy group than meal, and in order to permit the applicants to cope with the days events, Dr. Pastern had begged the blackmesh commander to station two soldiers at the entrance to the clinic. He had agreed, because their investigation had revealed a second fragmentation device among the intruder's possessions, and he still felt great gratitude for Pastern's help.

The entire staff and patients of clinic 042 sat together as one for the first time in the cafeteria; Miriam and Dorcas had brought out all the bins of food and set them down on the tables; everyone filled their trays in pot-luck fashion as they saw fit. There were no dinner lines, just one big family sitting down to eat, wandering from table to table to talk and to fill their bowls.

The Bureau cleaning staff had been busy all afternoon; while the blood was gone, the stain of grief remained. Hyssop, the pony receptionist from 043 had spent all of the afternoon with pony Bethany, comforting her and helping her to come to terms with her unexpected new state of being. Hyssop also felt a little shame that the doctor of her clinic had not given Lynn any serum; although it was not in any way her fault, Hyssop still apologized constantly for Clinic 043's lack of generosity.

Bethany, for her part, mostly just seemed grateful to be able to see again and to be alive at all. It was clear that she was deeply traumatized, but she seemed to be repressing it, for the moment at least. Hyssop did the best she could to just let Beth cope however she needed to, but it was very clear that Beth was more than glad that Hyssop was constantly nearby.

Caprice was greatly concerned that Alexi would be upset at having his freedom of choice taken from him; she was worried that he would feel resentful at being forcibly converted, even if it was to save his life. But Alexi did not seem upset, if anything he seemed in relatively good spirits, considering the horror that had happened earlier in the day.

"My peach princess, shhh... shhh... let me tell you something. You asked me for a favor, that I should be converted and become a stallion and spend my life with you. I know I was a stubborn Alexi, I should have answered you immediately with a resounding yes at the time. But I did not. Perhaps... I was too old fashioned then." Alexi's new ears drooped. "But I can tell you, my sweet Caprice, the exact moment I made my decision; it was the instant that I held little Buttermilk outside the Conversion Room, when I crouched down and you kissed me. Right then, minun rakkaani, I was already your stallion in my heart. That I am so in body today was inevitable from that moment no matter what."

"Alexi..." Caprice's eyes shimmered, barely holding back tears.

"Though, to be honest," Alexi's ears rose. "I would have preferred a more... quiet... conversion, had I the choice."

"Oh Alexi... me too. Me... too." It was a night of tears for everyone, and it was not unreasonable that Caprice buried her muzzle into Alexi's chest, weeping openly at this.

Caprice and Alexi had made several decisions as they sat together with Pumpkin and Buttermilk at their low table. They would be one family now. Caprice had told Pumpkin that she was her sister now, and that this is how they should always refer to each other from now on. Pumpkin was overjoyed at this, but puzzled at how it could be.

"Family does not need to share the same blood to be family," Caprice explained to her. "Buttermilk is my daughter - it doesn't matter one bit that she did not come out of my body. I love her. You are no less my sister for the same reason. But if you need a reason, accept this; you and I were born into the world as who we truly are, and always will be, from the same jar of potion. You may consider Dr. Pastern our mother if you wish, and the flask as our father, for our lives only truly began on her table, in this place."

"How do you do that?" Asked Alexi, leaning over and nuzzling Caprice.

"Do what?" Caprice was puzzled.

"Be completely awesome... big sister." Pumpkin tried out the words, savoring them on her tongue. "My... big sister is AWESOME!" Pumpkin grinned, and snuggled in as well, making a nice Caprice sandwich. Buttermilk, who was just beginning to learn to stand, tried to rise up from where she had been laying near Caprice's back legs, and fell across her; Caprice was now covered in love, and realized that however horrible the day had been, she had never felt happier than in this evening.

Dr. Pastern, meanwhile, had been hailed as the savior and hero of clinic 042, and though just about everyone had offered their gratitude for her actions -word of her courage had spread throughout the entire Bureau- Roselyn just felt sad, and numb.

Roselyn knew she had done the only thing she could have to save everyone's lives, but what had happened to the intruder was just so horrible. Yes, he had come with the intention to murder them all, yes, he had remorselessly hurt people she cared about. Nothing kind could possibly be said about such a man - yet, still, it was difficult for Roselyn; evil and murderous that man may have been, he had still been a living mind, a living person, and she had destroyed him in the most brutal way imaginable.

She tried to rationalize it; she was helpless, she had no weapons, she used the only tool available to her. Over and over she ran alternate scenarios - could she have knocked him out with a chair, or injected him with anesthesia, or even beaten him in a fight - and not one was the least bit reasonable. Any other action would have ended with a grenade killing everyone in the clinic. As it was, that very nearly happened anyway.

In her intellect, she understood all of this - the intruder was about to toss an explosive device. Commander Miller -the older blackmesh, as she had found out- had explained what a fragmentation device could do, and how close they had all come to death.

But reason didn't seem to help. She kept seeing a man writhing and shrieking, and from time to time Roselyn would suddenly jerk as though being physically hit - because a sudden flash of that memory filled her mind. Lynn sat close to her, occasionally patting her, or giving her a hug, trying to comfort the doctor. It would take time for Roselyn to cope with what had happened that day.

"Lynn..." Roselyn had to tell her, but it wasn't going to be easy.

"What is it, Ros?"

"I... I think I'm going to transfer. They're building more clinics, smaller clinics, back east. I used to live back there, long ago. Today..." Pastern looked so sad, so tired. "...Kind of made me want to go see my relatives, go see the places I grew up before... before they're gone."

Lynn didn't know quite what to say. It wouldn't be the same without Roselyn. "Where do you think you'll go?"

"I grew up in Michigan, maybe there. I have some family there. Or at least I used to." Pastern picked at her dinner. "They're going to build a clinic. Maybe I'll ask to be transferred to it, when its completed. But... I just can't... stay here."

Lynn understood. She really didn't want Roselyn to leave, but she could understand her reasons. Everything that had happened had clearly taken a great deal out of the doctor. "Whatever you need to do, I support it, Ros. But I am going to miss you so much. You're the best... friend... I've ever worked with."

That set Pastern crying, and Lynn felt bad for having said it now, but then Roselyn was hugging her, so maybe it was a good cry after all.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

When dinner was over, the staff, newfoals and applicants had talked long into the night. It felt safer to be near each other, and everyone needed to talk about the day. But eventually weariness overcame adrenaline, and the group began to break up, gradually heading to their beds. It had been a frightening, terrible day, but also a tremendously exhausting one as well.

Pumpkin, Caprice, Alexi and Buttermilk were curled up together on Alexi's big foam bed. There was easily enough room for all four of them there, and they could sleep far more comfortably than in the tiny room Pumpkin and Caprice had shared. They had made their own little herd on the bed, and all of them felt vastly safer and more happy that way.

Alexi had been very tired and had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had reached the mattress. This was very understandable; he had experienced more than any being - Human or Equestrian - should ever have to face. He had borne the exceptional trauma of his emergency conversion with astonishing stoicism, and had not voiced a single complaint. He had, however, not stopped mumbling Caprice's name over and over until sleep took him completely; it was clear that he had suffered unimaginably.

Before they had gone to Alexi's room, they had stopped at the bathrooms to wash the blood off; even now though, Caprice's fetlocks were stained a darker shade. This, and that they could still smell blood with their sensitive equine noses, left them all nervous and unsettled. With Alexi asleep, Caprice had turned to comforting Pumpkin.

Pumpkin had been terrorized by everything that had happened; she had tried to be brave, but once it was clear that they were safe in Alexi's room, she could not stop crying. She became hysterical at one point, frightening Buttermilk greatly; Caprice had resorted to laying her full weight upon her, the warmth and pressure slowly calmed her down, as Caprice said soothing words, and got her to think about how she was affecting poor little Buttermilk.

Buttermilk, frightened and confused, had forced her unsteady body up, and began to stumble across the foam, occasionally falling down while bleating plaintively.

This seemed to have a powerful effect; Pumpkin was a very compassionate filly, and her own torment was forgotten in the desire to comfort the tiny baby unicorn. Pumpkin stopped crying and began cooing to Buttermilk, who gradually calmed and stumbled towards her. "I'm sorry, Buttermilk. I'm so sorry, it's OK, come here! That's it! come here!"

Buttermilk lurched towards Pumpkin, sniffing and making small sounds. Suddenly the little foal dove down between Pumpkin's rear legs as she lay partially on her side, and Pumpkin squealed in surprise. Pumpkin began squirming and kicking until Caprice told her to lay still. "Pumpkin, she's just trying to nurse. Don't you think after such a day, she at least deserves that much comfort?"

"But... I don't have any milk! And... she's nowhere near my chest... AUGH!" Pumpkin was in some slight distress, the sensations were greatly disturbing her.

"Pumpkin, pumpkin, lie still, that's it, shhhh... you don't understand. You're a pony now. That is where your nipples are."

"Between my legs? How can I have nipples between my legs?" Pumpkin was in some shock over this news.

"As a human, you had breasts. But as a pony, you have an udder. It's really still your breasts, and there are only two of them, as before, you are not built like a cow. But their location has changed. That's all." Caprice groomed Pumpkin's black mane with her teeth and tongue, Pumpkin began to relax, despite the hungry little foal.

"It seems kind of weird, Caprice." Pumpkin was bothered, that much was clear.

"No. It is the humans that are weird, Pumpkin, not us." The way Caprice said things always seemed to help, somehow. "Think about it: imagine one of us and one of the humans, naked in a forest, trying to get through it. There are bushes and trees and branches all around. The human woman will be cut and scraped, because her breasts are exposed on her chest. But ours are protected, between our legs, and unless we should deliberately sit down on a bed of thorns, we will not be hurt, however fast we run."

"I would never have thought of anything like that, Caprice." Pumpkin dared to look down at buttermilk, there was no milk, of course, but that didn't seem to matter to the little foal. It was clearly just comforting to her. "When you put it like that, humans are built kind of dorky, really."

Caprice laughed. "Now that's a proper way to see things! We are ponies now, always remember that. Embrace it. It is what you are, and what you will always be. Look at little Buttermilk, trying to nurse. See how happy she is? This is normal, this what is good, now."

"Were you always like this, Caprice?" Pumpkin looked up and behind at Caprice, who was laying close behind her.

"Like what?"

"Really.... kind. Wise. You always make everything make sense. And you make everyone feel better, too." Pumpkin snuggled into Caprice's warmth, and began to feel sleepy. Buttermilk had laid down, her mouth still around one of Pumpkin's nipples, but she was no longer sucking. Her eyes were closed, and she was on her way to sleep.

"No. I was not like this before. I was not very nice as a human. I was smart, and I was funny, or so people told me. But I was very selfish, and very manipulative." Caprice lay her head down, her eyes heavy. "I wanted to be a pony very much, because I knew I could have a better soul as a pony. I was definitely not wise as a human. We could never have been sisters back when I was a human."

Pumpkin shifted sightly, freeing herself from Buttermilk with a faint 'pop'. "Then I'm very grateful that you are a pony."

"I am also very grateful that I am..." Caprice was losing it now. "... a pony. Best decision I.... ever..." It was warm, and it was soft, and the day had been very difficult.

"Goodnight, big sister." Pumpkin whispered the words, then checked on Buttermilk to see that she was sleeping peacefully now, tiny breaths making her little chest rise and fall. "Nite-nite, Buttermilk. Sorry I freaked there. Everything is kinda new, you know?" Pumpkin shifted once more to make herself more available to the baby unicorn, if the foal wanted. "I guess... I'll have to get used to all of this, won't I?"

Pumpkin thought about herself, a pony. This was her life now. This was what she was, and always would be. She felt the warmth of Caprice, her sister, sleeping behind her, and Alexi, Caprice's stallion. She could hear him breathing behind Caprice. Buttermilk shifted on the bed, cuddling in closer for warmth, between her legs. This was normal, now. This was what was good and right and proper for what she was.

For a pony.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Summer and Sandcastle chose to sleep together again on the big, lumpen couch. They still felt nervous and upset, and had decided to take shifts sleeping. Intellectually, they knew that the blackmesh soldiers would be especially on guard, and that more had been sent from the Presidio base to bolster the guard, but their emotions would not listen. They felt safer where they could take turns watching the entrance to the clinic, and also have room to run if need be.

Sandcastle had taken the first shift, but Summer was having trouble getting to sleep. "It's OK, Summer." Sandcastle gave his coltfriend a comforting nuzzle. "I'm alert, I'll keep watch. I won't fall asleep, I promise!"

"I believe you. I just can't stop thinking about... today." Summer looked up at Sandcastle, his face pained. "It was really awful. I mean, you see these sorts of things in media, and then the characters are all like 'well, let's get back to business' and stuff. But... it isn't like that at all."

"No. No it isn't. I don't know if it will ever be alright again. I'm... never mind." Sandcastle stopped, unsure of himself.

"You're what? Come on Sands, no matter what, it's OK to talk to me."

"I'm... well, I'm afraid of humans now. I know we used to be human, just a few days ago, but after today, even looking at the human shape makes me feel... afraid. It's dumb, I know. I'm just being dumb." Sandcastle turned to stare at the entrance chamber and the big security door.

"No. It isn't dumb, Sandcastle. I... feel the same way." Summer put his head against his mate.

"We could leave. We could leave on the ship, Summer! We don't have to stay. We can learn how to be ponies in Equestria as well as we could here, probably better even!" Sandcastle seemed happier at the thought. "Let's do it! Let's just go, please, Summer! There are no humans allowed in Equestria. Nopony ever tries to blow up anypony else. They never hurt each other, ever. They don't even have guns there! Please, please let's just go..."

"Of course we'll go, of course, shhh, shhh...." Summer rubbed his cheek on Sandcastle's neck. "First thing in the morning, we will get on that ship. I promise."

"And we can stay together?" Sandcastle looked like a little colt, fragile and delicate, somehow.

"If you will have me, we can stay together forever, Sands." Summer snuggled closer, Sandcastle gave him a nibble on the ear.

"Oh, please. Please let's stay together forever."

Summer couldn't help but smile at that.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Bethany was afraid. It was too dark for one thing, even with a nightlight on. She knew she was safe now, but everything was so strange, and now she was a pony whether she liked it or not, and earlier -she tried not to think of earlier, but it kept flashing back. "Hyssop?"

"I'm still here." Hyssop was only half awake, but she was trying to be a good friend. "I'm right here, Beth."

"I don't... I don't want to stay here."

Hyssop tried to parse what Beth meant. "D'ya wanna go to my room, in the other clinic?"

"No... That's not what I mean." There was a pause, Hyssop almost fell asleep. "Do you know why I never went pony before?"

"Hmmm....nnnnnn. Why?"

"I was afraid to go to Equestria alone. But now I don't want to stay on Earth anymore. I want to get away from here, I never want to see this world again."

"Mnn... I can understand that." Hyssop just wanted some sleep.

"Would you go with me? Just for a while. I'm not asking you to stay with me indefinitely or anything, just... we're gonna end up there anyway, so... would'ja just go with me? Tomorrow? I just don't want to go to a strange place alone." Bethany sounded plaintive and lost.

Hyssop thought for a moment. "Wha' th' hell. Sure. Just let me get some sleep. We'll catch the boat in the morning, 'Kay?" She was tired of her job anyway. And the attack... yeah. Equestria. Sounds good.

"Thank you, Hyssop. Thank you so much."

"Yeah. Surrrr....nnnn" Consciousness had finally deserted Hyssop.

Beth stared at the nightlight. She kept closing her eyes and opening them again, to make sure that she was really seeing and it wasn't some dream. Oh, Celestia, it was so good to see again. It was so good to see.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

It was Friday morning, and a delivery was expected.

The Erlenmeyer was empty. All twenty-seven ounces that it had contained had been used. The inner surface of the bottle still crawled with the remnants of conversion serum; lonely, scattered nanomachines sparked uselessly with the dying embers of Equestrian magic fading from within them.

The empty flask had been carefully placed inside of its bright red case, tucked solidly inside of the grey, shock-proof foam. The case had been closed and locked. Now, it sat on the front counter of clinic 042, watched over by the new receptionist, Meagan.

A new Red Case would be dropped off today, as it had been every three days for the last six months. Another 27 ounces would arrive, in a fresh case, and the old case would be taken away to be refilled. Another nine ponifications would happen, multiplied by the one hundred clinics in the San Francisco Bureau, one of the first Bureaus, and one of the largest. Nine hundred ponies created every three days, month after month after month.

But it was still not even close to being enough.

Megan Winfeld sat in the chair at the reception desk of Clinic 042. She had been told that something terrible had happened the day before, that there had been an attack, but that it had been stopped. Meagan needed the receptionist job, and she was grateful to be there. The previous receptionist had apparently converted, and had decided to leave.

The security doors opened. Blackmesh guards entered the reception area. Meagan waited, but the Bureau agents she had been told to expect had not arrived yet. It was certainly taking a long time.

Meagan heard the sound of electric treads. Something heavy was being brought in. Finally the Bureau agents were here, but they were accompanied by technicians. The techies were using an electric lifter to bring in what looked like an aluminum party keg, held firm within a bright red metal support frame. "Are you the receptionist for Clinic 042?"

Well, duh, thought Megan. "Yes, I am. I'm new, I just got hired toda..."

"Put your finger here. And here. Retinal scan here." The agent was not interested in Meagan's new job. "We'll take the package back to your physician. I assume she is on call, and in the Conversion Room?"

Meagan nodded. "Dr. Pastern is waiting, it's right back th..."

"We know where it is. Thank you." The agent motioned for the technicians to power up the lifter again, immediately they were off towards the back of the clinic.

"Humph." Apparently receptionists were not very important. Meagan tried to smile at one of the blackmesh soldiers. He looked away, bored.

Lynn responded to the pounding on the metal Conversion Room door. Behind it a Bureau agent waved her aside, and had a large red metal frame moved in. Held inside the metal cage was a shiny keg, not unlike the sort of container used to house beer or other fluids. "Are you Dr. Roselyn Pastern, conversion physician for Clinic 042?"

"I am Dr. Pastern's assistant, Lynn Daniels. I can handle anyth.."

"Where is Dr. Pastern?" The agent seemed like the sort of man to whom 'humor' was a mythical legend from some ancient past.

"Dr. Pastern had an emergency. I am fully trained and capable of handlin..."

"This is very irregular. Dr. Pastern should be present for this. I am not comfortable with this situation." The agent checked his datalink.

"Listen. I am fully capable of dealing with this. I can easily inform Dr. Pastern of every detail when she returns. You can check my records, I am fully trained and qualified. Now let's get started; I despise inefficiency." Lynn put on her most stern face.

The Bureau agent lifted an eyebrow. "Very well. There will be no more deliveries of the red cases. The red cases will be repurposed as Serum Travel Cases; retain yours for potential field use as needed. Increases in production efficiency have finally been achieved. This is a 900 ounce Ponification Serum Containment Unit. It has been designated by the Bureau as a 'Pony Keg', and it will provide sufficient serum to allow 300 conversions before replacement. There will be a new schedule provided; conversions per day will be expected to be dramatically accelerated."

Lynn tried very hard to stifle a laugh at the official designation; it was entirely possible that nobody at the Bureau had even a clue that it was the funniest possible name they could have chosen. Certainly, the agent had no idea.

"I will now..." The agent gave Lynn a hard look; perhaps her efforts to remain serious were not as perfect as she had imagined. "... go over the methodology of serum extraction and the cautions associated with this new containment vessel."

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Roselyn Pastern stood on the floating dock. Behind and above her, the gigantic dark shape of the San Francisco Conversion Bureau interrupted the sky. The foul ocean breeze tasted metallic in her mouth; the gray, poison water roiled against the broken supports of what had once been an apparently famous bridge.

The ship was not pretty, but it did not need to be. It had only one purpose; to transport the converted to Equestria, far out at sea. Scientists had calculated that in just a few years, the expanding border of Equestria would be so large that it would physically cover part of the West Coast. When that happened, the transport ships would no longer be needed; newfoals could just walk across on foot.

Roselyn had broken protocol because she wanted so much to be here. Alexi Venäläinen - he hadn't yet chosen an Equestrian name - was leaving, and she would miss him. He had been the handyman for Clinic 042 since the beginning, and the main reason why her job had gone as smoothly as it had for the past six months. More than that, he had been the soul of clinic 042, and the place would be hollow without him.

Alexi was a handsome white and blue newfoal stallion now, and he took with him an extraordinary and wonderful family. His beloved Caprice, their daughter Buttermilk, and Caprice's sister Pumpkin all looked forward to a happy life together. Buttermilk had begun to walk sometime during the night; she was unsteady but already more able than any human baby of the same age. Caprice would be good for Alexi: someone who could help him occasionally, someone who could keep him out of trouble.

"I enjoyed my days at the clinic. We helped a lot of newfoals, did we not?" pony Alexi smiled at Roselyn, how could he help but smile?

"You were probably the only thing that kept us going half the time, Alexi." Roselyn turned to Caprice. "I am so glad I let you convince me to convert you, Caprice. I'll always think of you as my very best conversion, ever. Please take care of Alexi!"

"We shall be together for the rest of our days, Roselyn. But if you came with us, you could see that for yourself. You could undergo conversion on the trip, and wake up in Equestria. I do not understand why you simply do not come right now!" Caprice seemed both sad and a little angry; it was almost certain Roselyn would never see any of them again.

Equestria was a big place, an entire, magical, wondrous world beyond the bubble in the ocean; as it devoured the Earth, it was apparently growing exponentially on its side of the Barrier. In the end, Equestria would become unimaginably vast, with more land than a thousand earths, more than enough to swallow the whole of the Earth's population as if it were nothing. In that unimaginably vast, expanding landscape, those that did not stay together in their travels could never hope to meet again.

"I don't have any serum." That was technically true, but it was an excuse; everyone knew that today a new shipment would arrive.

"Dammit, Roselyn, you've done enough. If you keep putting it off, you could end up in a desperate place one day!" Caprice nuzzled Roselyn's leg. "You always act as if you are trying to make up for something. If you'd just take the serum, you'd find that Celestia forgives humans. She knows humans can't help what they are." Caprice looked deeply into Roselyn's eyes, and Roselyn felt that somehow Caprice was speaking from personal experience. "Just do it, Ros. Run and grab a cup and then get on the boat. It's alright. You have my permission." Caprice pressed her body hard into Roselyn's leg.

Roselyn felt tears stinging her cheeks. She could almost accept it. She could almost accept it with the permission of this extraordinary peach pony. "You have my permission." Just like Roselyn had given Caprice permission, three days ago.

Sniffing, Roselyn crouched down and put her arms around Caprice's neck. "Thank you... for that. But, I really can't. Not yet. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Have the best possible life with that big lug and your little foal. And take care of Pumpkin too. You're amazing, you know that?" Roselyn hugged tight, Caprice cuddled her with her neck and head.

As Roselyn and Caprice embraced, Sandcastle and Summer were heading up the ramp to the ship; Roselyn could hear them arguing about something to do with whether tomatoes were a fruit or a vegetable; they seemed oblivious to everything except each other. Roselyn wished them a happy life in her mind, sure that her wish would come true.

Roselyn finally stood up, wiping her face.

Caprice, Alexi, Buttermilk and Pumpkin ambled slowly up the ramp. They stopped occasionally to assist Buttermilk, who found the angle of the ramp unsettling. Eventually the tiny foal made it to the top, a miniscule yellow figure on a large, white boat.

A dark stallion with a blue and gold mane stood close to Roselyn. It was Newmorning, formerly Ryan Niequist. "Doc?"

"Rya... Newmorning! I heard you were getting on the ship today as well. It seems like all the newfoals are leaving today." Roselyn still could feel tears on her cheek.

"Well, after yesterday..." That part was obvious enough. What did the human world have to offer, really, except more chances for tragedy? "...Anyway, I wanted to thank you again for... helping me. You absolutely saved my life. You gave me my life. Thank you doc. Thank you forever." Newmorning brushed close against Roselyn as he passed, then gave her a sharp, stinging whip from his tail. He grinned at her. Roselyn couldn't help but grin back.

As Newmorning trotted to the ramp, he held his tail as high as he possibly could, the view from behind an additional jest. Yes, I get it, thought Roselyn. I see them. You're welcome. She shook her head. Boys. Roselyn sighed.

"Hey! You've come to see us off!" Roselyn turned to see pony Bethany. Beside her was Hyssop from 043. "We're going together! It's really nice of you to see everyone off." Bethany turned to Hyssop. "See, I told you Pastern was a good egg. Best doctor in the Bureau. I always thought so. Pushy on the ponification, though."

Roselyn waved to Beth and Hyssop, and tried to say something clever, but she couldn't because the words wouldn't come out. Bethany and Hyssop strolled up the ramp; Beth had a little trouble because she was still getting used to her legs, but Hyssop helped push her up from behind.

'I want to go on that ship. I want to go on that ship with them. Oh, Celestia, I want to be a pony too' was all Roselyn could think, and by then the tears were streaming down her face. Maybe back East would be easier. Maybe one day she would finally give in. Maybe one day she could feel that those men had forgiven her somehow. Maybe she could forgive herself.

Roselyn Pastern stood there for an hour and a half, until the ramp was pulled away and the ship began to leave, sailing out into the open ocean, towards the shining, gleaming, semicircle that was the wondrous, magical Barrier of Equestria.

Some day, some very special, wonderful day, when she had somehow earned it, she would finally go too.

THE END

The Ponies

[0] 27 Ounces (remaining)

[1] 24oz Carmine - (Carmine Rosalita Guadalupe Vasquez, age 21)
Cerise coat, gold mane, gold eyes. Unicorn pony

[2] 21oz Caprice - (Venice Elspeth Bertarelli, age unknown, probably 24)
Peach coat, deep peach mane, green eyes. Earth pony

[3] 18oz Pumpkin Licorice - (Sharon Marcella, age 16)
Orange coat, black mane, black eyes. Pegasus pony, with foal

[4] 15oz Sandcastle (Elijah Shaloe, age 23)
Tan coat, white mane, burgundy eyes. Earth pony

[5] 12oz Summer Raincloud (Logan Bertram, age 24)
Medium gray coat, blond mane, blue eyes, Unicorn pony

[6] 9oz Newmorning (Ryan Niequist, age 26)
Dark gray/black coat, sky blue and gold mane, Earth pony

[7] 8oz Buttermilk (Baby Jane Doe, age 2 weeks 3 days)
Pale yellow coat, yellow-white mane, bright yellow eyes. Unicorn pony

[1/2] 6 3/4oz Horsemeat (William Duke Culpepper, age 36)
Bright pink patches/caucasian, zero mane, Brown/violet eyes, pink guts. Half pony

[8] 2 1/4oz Alexi (Alexi Venäläinen, age 28)
White coat, deep blue mane, purple eyes. Pegasus Pony

The Bonus Pony

[Bonus] 4oz from another flask Ruby Foxmane (Bethany Milner, age 43)
Chestnut coat, light red mane, red eyes. Earth pony

27 Ounces continues directly in the sequel: The Taste Of Grass

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!

A Cup Of Responsibility

27 Ounces:

A story of eight and one half ponies
By Chatoyance

Chapter Ten: A Cup Of Responsibility

The very young girl crept from building to building. She scrambled from broken window to broken window, always remembering to keep her head down. It was difficult; she had to be careful not to trip on broken beams or rotting furniture, her arms were full, and she was terrified of falling down upon what she carried.

So far, her newborn baby had remained asleep. This was good. She had followed the advice of her friend and given the infant a quarter of a spoon of slum booze. If the baby cried, it could be bad. She had a small bottle of the drink with her in case the child needed more. Lombard was not a safe street; it sometimes acted as a staging area for foolish gangs intent upon assaulting the blackmesh base at the Presidio.

She cut across the street to Fillmore and eventually to Cervantes. If she could make it to Marina, she knew that street went right by her goal. Marina would take her straight to the old AppleSoft building, and that was what had been used to create the San Francisco Conversion Bureau.

She wished she could go with her baby, but she had two other children already, and she could not leave them. Her man would never allow her to join the ponies, for he was a leader in the Human Liberation Front. "Human for Life, Human In Death" that was their motto. There was no way she could get her other two children out of the militia compound. But she had found a way to escape with her tiny newborn.

He would punish her, of course. But he would never really harm her, that was impossible. Her children needed her, he would just hurt her a little. He would just smack her around a bit; maybe she would have to go into the hot box for a while. But it would be alright in the end, even if it hurt for awhile. Of course it would; he loved her.

But her baby, her precious little girl - she would have a better life. She would see the green place, with the pretty ponies. Her little daughter, her first girl, would have the life she wished she herself could have. It was too late for her of course; her man was a Liberation man. It was her place to be at his side, whatever came.

The complex was in sight. It was so large, the largest intact building she had ever seen. It must be dozens of floors high, and many blocks wide. There had been skyscrapers, once, downtown, but they had broken and fallen against each other. They had tumbled like dominoes when the bay had been bombed long ago. It was dangerous to even approach them. Somehow the AppleSoft complex had been left unscathed.

She was almost there.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Alexi did not want to face breakfast. Caprice would be there, and she would want to sit with him. It was nearly seven, the hungry animals would be lining up already. And Alexi, he did not want to face Caprice.

He was in trouble, voi rähmä, was he in trouble. Worse, Caprice had sworn to protect him, and that is the last thing Alexi wanted to happen, because one does not bring hooves to a gun fight. Or in this case, most likely, an execution.

"Perse, perse, perse!" Swearing wasn't helping. Alexi tried to think about how he should deal with the issue of Caprice.

He could just tell her that he didn't want her to get hurt; that these men who wanted payment would come with weapons and that her hooves were useless. He could forbid her to interfere! No, that would not be the way, it was clear that in their relationship, Alexi would not be doing any forbidding. Caprice would not stand for any forbidding by Alexi. Voi, if anyone in their household did any forbidding, it would be Caprice doing the forbidding. Alexi sighed. Such is life.

Älä ole hassu! What household? Alexi, you fool, already you are talking as if you are married to this Caprice! Alexi was shocked at his own mind. When had he started thinking like this? He had only met Caprice on Tuesday, he had known her all of two days and two nights. It must be the dreams he was having, both nights. They were wonderful dreams, beautiful dreams, but it was all very silly. This sort of thing happened in ridiculous stories, not to ordinary people in the real world.

No woman had ever affected Alexi like this before. He could not stop thinking about Caprice. Not for one moment. And she wasn't even a woman! This was insane. Alexi was insane now, poor, poor Alexi. So, reasoning with Caprice would likely just make things worse. He could not forbid her; she would just resolve all the more to protect him.

Alexi did not want to take his other option; the choice he was so sure he had decided upon last night. He did not want to tell Caprice to leave him alone, to go away. To tell her... that he had no interest in her, that he would never have any interest in her, that there was no reason for her to wait for him.

Every Friday, a ship left for Equestria, taking the newfoals to their proper home. Some went as soon as they could, others stayed at the clinic for their full allotted week of physical training, others just turned and walked out the door, still attached to the Earth. Tomorrow the boat would take another load of the Converted to their new home.

If Caprice truly believed that Alexi had no use for her, he felt certain that she would leave on Friday. He knew that the only reason she was staying at the clinic at all was to give him time to decide whether to be Converted and to join her. She had almost said as much. If she left on Friday, then she would be safe.

The men would come. They would come and it would not be good. Alexi intended to go with them, without a struggle. What else could he do? They would kill everyone in the clinic without a second thought if he refused. That is what these men were. Their job was to make examples, so that no one would dare to cross their employer, and Alexi had definitely crossed their employer. This would be Alexi's last mistake. Stupid Alexi. Foolish Alexi.

The worst part was that he would never have made such a mistake, normally. Alexi knew what had happened. In his heart, in his mind, unconsciously, somehow he had been trying to show off to Caprice. Show that he was a good provider. And he had done this without even considering that Caprice would likely not even know of his efforts for Dr. Pastern! Alexi had just gotten caught up in everything.

Stupid, Alexi. Foolish, lovestruck Alexi.

He would take care of it. If he knew where to go, he would go to them, these men. But he did not. So they would come to him.

Caprice must be gone by then.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

The girl crept through the security door. It scanned her and recorded her appearance and physical statistics, sending the information directly to the Bureau central data core. Her entrance was noted on Bethany's holodisplay, causing her to look up.

The girl ran over to Beth's desk. She couldn't be more than sixteen. She looked Beth directly in the eye, staring at her without saying a word.

Suddenly she placed a bundle of cloth on the counter, turned, and ran out the door.

Bethany blinked. What the hell?

Beth looked at the ragged bundle of cloth. No. It couldn't be. She stood up from her chair. She carefully lifted the edge of the cloth. Pale white skin, blotched by patches of pink. A tiny nose. So tiny. It couldn't be more than two weeks old.

"Security! Security! Young girl, leaving the building, ragged green and brown clothing, head covered with a cloth. Possibly fifteen, sixteen years old. Stop for questioning! Repeat, stop her!" Beth hoped the blackmesh at the main complex entrance were on the ball.

Beth turned back to the baby on the counter. It was very quiet. She checked the poor thing, it was breathing but... it smelled of alcohol. A drunk baby? The girl... must have used booze to keep the baby quiet. Of all the stupid things to... "This is Security. Subject left building before call. Unable to apprehend." Bethany swore under her breath. "Uh, sorry there." Well, at least they said they were sorry. Humph.

They hadn't had a drop-off in over two months. This was the youngest drop Beth had ever seen. The last child was four years old. But this child, maybe not even two weeks. This was a problem. She needed Dr. Pastern here.

Bethany carefully picked up the small bundle, and went in search of Dr. Pastern. On the way, she noticed that the newfoals, Logan and Elijah were finally waking up; they had apparently spent the entire night on the common room couch. "Morning boys! Listen, I've got a... package... for Dr. Pastern. Do you think you could keep an eye on the front desk for me while I go deliver it?"

Elijah blinked, surprised. "Certainly, Bethany. Logan and I can do that for you!" Elijah gave Logan a nuzzle on the head. "Rise and shine beautiful, duty calls!" Logan groggily began to stir. "Huh? Do what?"

Beth went on past the cafeteria, where hungry applicants were already milling around, waiting for seven o'clock. Roselyn wasn't there, so she must have already gotten her morning coffee. Beth decided to try the infirmary and the Conversion Room, it was almost certain that Roselyn would be in one of those two rooms. She hadn't seen the doctor leave to go up on the roof.

The infirmary door was open, and the light was on, an encouraging sign. "Dr. Pastern?" Roselyn was sitting at the hypernet terminal, entering something furiously. "Oh! Hi, Beth. Just putting down the basics for a paper on... um, something I accomplished yesterday." Pastern still hadn't looked up from what she was doing.

The unmistakable cry of a baby shattered the air. Apparently little Jane Doe was finally off the booze.

"W-WHAA?" Dr. Pastern was eyes front and staring at Bethany, no longer absorbed in her notes. "That's a baby!"

"Pretty much, doc." Beth tried to calm the infant with some gentle rocking. The crying lessened.

"Where... how... is it... visiting?" Pastern asked hopefully. She dearly hoped is wasn't a foundling or something.

"It's a foundling, Ros." Crap. This was going to screw up the entire schedule. Pastern frowned, but Beth went on. "Girl came in and plopped this one right down on the counter. Then she turned tail and ran for the hills."

"Did you call security?" Roselyn saw hope shine in the form of those wonderful, jolly, black-suited thugs. Go, thugs!

"No use. She was out of the building, and they aren't paid to pursue off site." Was Bethany enjoying this?

"Those useless, cowardly thugs!" There definitely went the schedule for the day, poof! Roselyn sighed. Oh well. "How old is the little bundle of joy?"

The baby, little 'Jane Doe', who had up until now been mollified by Beth's rocking, finally realized that she had a precious little infant hangover. What had once been crying returned as screaming. Ah, screaming, the perfect way to wake up in the morning.

"She's..." Beth began trying various ways to soothe the poor child. "...probably just a week or two old. About as young as you can get." The screaming increased in pitch, making Roselyn's head begin to ache. "So..." Beth placed the infant over one shoulder, hoping that would help. "... do we convert her, or put her down?" Beth paused for a moment. "Or, do you want a baby of your very own?"

Those were the choices that the world corporate government provided for the Bureaus in the case of foundling children below the age of reason. There were no social services anymore, only the guaranteed basic ration. It was a firing offense to try to place foundlings with the slum dwellers; not only did it take up time and resources, but it could cause all manner of problems in terms of public relations should something go wrong. That left only three choices: conversion, termination, or personal adoption. The latter was heavily discouraged; adoptions by Bureau staff was a sure ticket to No More Promotions. It was professional suicide.

Baby Doe was making a strong case on her own for termination. Monstrous lungs that powerful should not be allowed to live; it was clearly an affront to Nature herself. It was absolutely an affront to hearing. Bethany was beginning to wish the young mother had left whatever she had used to drug the child; the omission was terribly thoughtless of her.

"I CAN'T THINK WITH THAT... THAT... THING SCREAMING LIKE THAT!" Dr. Pastern seldom lost her temper, but right now her head was pounding, she hadn't had much of her coffee, she was hungry, and that blasted creature was very likely permanently deafening her. Why, of all the one hundred clinics in the San Francisco Bureau, had that little bitch chosen clinic 042 in which to drop her spawn? Pastern had her hands over her ears now. It was horrifying.

Beth had the baby off of her shoulder now, and had lowered herself to the floor of the infirmary, her ears ringing. Sitting on the floor allowed her to lay the baby down, so that she could check it; maybe the problem was that it simply needed a change of...whatever the mother had wrapped its bottom with. Oh, it's a girl. But, no mess, so that can't be it.

She felt something soft push past her shoulder. A peach-colored shape had entered the room. It was Caprice. Caprice lowered herself, folding her legs. Then she started -ever so gently- licking and lipping all over the skin of the child, making soft cooing noises.

Beth just sat, stunned, watching Caprice.

The infant girl stopped crying. She seemed mesmerized by the repetitive motions of the pony's lips and tongue. Soon, little miss Doe was making little happy sounds. Caprice was licking her hands and cheeks now.

Bethany and Dr. Pastern just stared. It was fairly astonishing, really. Caprice had calmed the child, that was clear, but it was quite fascinating that a former human, just two days Converted, could so completely embrace her new animal nature. It was uncanny. For all the world, Caprice seemed like an ordinary terrestrial animal right now, without any inhibition or human revulsion. In her mind, Roselyn couldn't help but think how very little she would ever want to lick some strange, abandoned baby. God knows what filth might be on the thing! Suddenly, being a pony seemed not quite as attractive as it had, before.

Jane Doe had fallen asleep again. Caprice carefully, softly tugged with her teeth at the rags around the newborn, covering her to keep her warm. She continued making little soft noises for a bit, then looked up with a tender smile.

Bethany spoke very, very quietly. "Um, thanks for that, Caprice, but... ewww." Beth shuddered a little. Then she stood up.

"I am a pony now, Beth." Caprice seemed almost cross. "How do you imagine ponies comfort their young?" Caprice gave Beth a short, hard look. Then she softened, looking down at the sleeping child, now between her hooves. "I overheard you as I came here. Dr. Pastern!" Caprice looked forcefully at Roselyn. "You must convert this child. I will not permit her to be terminated, and it is clear that neither of you are willing to take her as your own. As a newfoal, she will easily survive. I will take responsibility for her, since no one else will."

"Caprice..." Dr. Roselyn whispered as loudly as she dared. "You are just starting a new life of your own. I understand that you feel compassion, but I don't think you grasp the severity of what you..."

"I will NOT let you terminate this innocent creature." For the first time, Dr. Pastern saw anger in the face of the sweet, peach pony. "Convert her immediately. I cannot be expected to take care of a human baby, but I can care for a foal." Caprice thought for a moment. "If you fear that whoever was scheduled for first Conversion will object, I will convince them for you."

Somehow, Dr. Pastern did not feel that Caprice was boasting. Caprice seemed to possess an almost disturbing power of will when something was important to her.

Caprice was right about the relative ease of care; newborn Equestrians had vast advantages over humans in terms of development. Terrestrial horses are born with the innate ability to stand and walk. Equestrian pony newborns also seemed to have inborn abilities, just like their terrestrial counterparts. Equestrian foals could stand and walk on their first day of life, and the beginnings of functional speech started within mere weeks. These abilities would begin to arise in the infant almost the instant Conversion was complete.

The simple truth was that an Equestrian foal would be vastly easier to care for than a helpless human baby. Dr. Pastern had to admire the practicality of Caprice. And, it was corporate policy to automatically convert presapient children. But Caprice did not grasp the whole story.

Roselyn got up from her chair, and moved closer to Caprice and the child. She bent down, and then sat on the floor next to the pair. Caprice looked at her in curiosity.

"Caprice, there is an issue you are unaware of. Remember how you wanted to experience your transformation? I would not allow it, because the process is unimaginably painful. I... have seen grown men go through it, without anesthesia. The memory of that... I still have nightmares, Caprice." The pained look on Dr. Pastern's face spoke more eloquently than her words.

"I don't have an anesthetic for an infant this young." Dr. Pastern gently ran a finger across little miss Doe's tiny cheek. "Infants react differently than adults to anesthetic, and the risk of death is just too great. If I were to convert her, I would have no means to protect her from pain. It would be the worst fifteen minutes any being could endure." Roselyn Pastern looked into Caprice's vast, green eyes. "Termination... would be painless, merciful. She wouldn't suffer." Pastern dropped her gaze, down to the tiny bundle between Caprice's forelegs.

"I really think it is the right thing to do, Caprice. I'm sorry." Pastern was firm.

Caprice sat frozen for a moment. She gave the tiny baby girl a small, gentle nuzzle. Then she carefully got up. "Very well, then kill her, noble doctor." Her words were surprisingly flat. Caprice turned and left, without looking back.

Pastern sat on the floor, stunned. She wasn't sure what response she expected from the elegant peach pony, but that absolutely was not it. Bethany looked shocked. After her stern words, how could Caprice just turn and leave like that? Then again, what exactly was Caprice supposed to say?

Roselyn felt confused. She felt bad, like a monster. Just a moment ago, she was fully ready to peaceably terminate this small life out of mercy, and it would be a mercy. But now, somehow, the way Caprice had just left like that, had made Roselyn feel like the most evil creature on the planet. Like an alpha killer ape on a planet of murdering beasts.

Pastern had expected Caprice to put up a fuss, to have to be consoled; a whole script had waited in the doctor's mind. None of that had happened. Roselyn's expectations had been destroyed. Now she was alone, faced with a small patient she could no longer abstract.

Damn that Caprice.

Bethany leaned down "I... should be getting back to the desk now, doctor Pastern. Um..." Beth was at a loss as to what to say. What could she say? "...Um, bye." Now Dr. Pastern was alone, sitting on the floor of the infirmary, little miss Doe sleeping still, a smile on her tiny face.

Dr. Roselyn Pastern's hands made fists, which she leaned on, rocking her body forward and back. "Then kill her, noble doctor." It was like Caprice knew exactly where to strike her, exactly how to throw her off balance. Damn her!

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

William Duke Culpepper, 'Billy' to his friends and 'That Culpepper bastard' to everyone else, paced up and down the dirt path that ran through his open air compound. Billy was the Commander In Chief of the Folsom Street Freedom Fighters, a local San Francisco militia branch of the Human Liberation Front.

Billy was proud of his position, proud of his men, and proud to be a Human Being.

But today, he was not proud of his youngest wife at all. Charlene had betrayed him, she had betrayed the cause, and above all, she had betrayed her race - the human race.

Billy Culpepper stopped pacing. There was no way around it. He was the leader here. It was up to him to keep discipline, to keep order. Without cohesion, there would be no hope against the alien bastards. It broke his heart, she was so young. But youth could not be an excuse. Not for betraying her species itself.

Ever since the world of the monsters had risen out of the sea, William had seen the danger they represented. The green lands and perfect smiles of the beasts were seductive traps. Humanity had made a mess of the world, Billy was no Pollyanna; he knew the difficulties that mankind faced. But Man had overcome every other obstacle that had faced him, and now he was on the verge of finally making a golden age. Nanotech had shown what was possible! Nineteen billion people, and every one of them fed!

What some saw as a nightmare, Billy understood was a triumph. Never before in the history of the world was there a time when all human beings had food, all of the time. Nobody seemed to grasp what an achievement this truly was.

And this was just the beginning. Now that no human went hungry, more could be done. It was only a matter of time. The dead world could be brought back to living Nature, eventually, and in time, Man might finally reach the stars.

But Equestria had come, an unwanted intrusion, instantly stealing Man's future away from him. Sickly sweet invitations masked a sinister agenda; the equinoid aliens wanted to assimilate the human species, to absorb the world itself, to devour the human spirit and feast upon it for their own nourishment.

It was dog-eat-dog even at the level of the cosmos itself, and Earth was being gobbled up by a hound from hell. How could the government not see this? How could humanity sell its very soul to these invaders? How could they fall for the siren call of such gruesomely large-eyed monsters?

Fortunately, there were men who were willing to oppose this violation of Mankind. Strong men, willing to save humanity despite itself. Men, like him.

Billy took the revolver out of its holster. He had loved that gun ever since his father had given it to him on his 20th birthday. He had kept it in perfect condition; he knew every part, every component. He had personally machined a replacement cylinder stop for the ancient weapon. He had learned bullet swaging in order to make ammo for it, now that there were no factories anymore. Each round for the weapon had been hand crafted by him. He had inscribed each one with a short quote from a human writer. Every bullet was truly a work of art.

Billy felt the weight of the gun, the mass of it. After this, he would no longer be able to see his treasure the same way. But it had to be done.

He began to stride back to the middle of the compound. Nearly a hundred people had gathered there, forming a big circle in front of the buildings. They had built that compound together, out of the ruins, raised the thick walls that surrounded their fortress. They had repelled gangs and fought blackmesh armored troops. They had executed race traitor newfoals for their unspeakable crime. They were the last true human resistance against the brightly colored devils from over the sea.

Charlene was crying. She had been beaten and bruised, her left arm broken. But that was not enough, not enough for a woman that would willingly hand her own baby over to the alien enemy. She had handed over her own flesh and blood, she had given the child of William Duke Culpepper to the greatest threat the human species had ever faced! And she had done so willingly, without shame, without remorse.

Charlene was begging now, begging for her despicable life. Now she was ashamed, now she had decided to show remorse. Too late. It was far, far too late.

Billy raised the heavy revolver, and thumbed the cylinder release latch. He anchored the gun in his hand, and reached down to unsnap the pouch on his belt. He felt around for one of the custom bullets. Taking it out, he squinted in the morning light. He flipped down the jeweler's eye-loupe perpetually clipped to the right side of his glasses. He could just barely make out the inscription on the hand-crafted bullet: 'We cannot despair of humanity, since we ourselves are human beings. - Albert Einstein' The letters were very tiny, but as perfect as he could make them. He was proud of his work. It was human work.

Billy guided the round into the chamber and carefully, gently closed it. He gave the gun a little waggle to make sure that the cylinder was properly aligned.

Then he assumed his firing grip.

Charlene looked up at him, her dark, bruised eyes swollen with tears and pain. Billy could feel the crowd staring at him, looking for any sign of weakness. He would give them nothing but strength.

Charlene's head became a red flower, splashing onto his hands and arms and his beloved revolver. Her body hit the dirt with a soft rolling motion, what was left of the back of her head flopped up and over her face, covering the hole in her forehead. "Goodbye, beloved." He said softly.

Standing tall, he addressed the crowd. "You have seen how a MAN deals with a traitor to the species, even if that traitor is his own KIN. This is a war for the existence of MANKIND itself! There can be NO tolerance for those who would sell out the proud history of humankind for the false promises of alien devils!"

The crowd slowly began to clap, at first hesitantly, but with increasing vigor. William Culpepper was truly a leader, and he was their leader.

Daniel, one of Culpepper's lieutenants, took a step forward. "Whatcha gonna do about the baby, Bill?"

Billy eyed Daniel, he knew what the man was really saying. "By now it is likely too late to get her back. By now that little child will be one of them. But that doesn't mean that there will be no reprisal." Culpepper turned to the crowd. "This very day, I SWEAR I will take my vengeance on the clinic that has my child. I will SHOW you how a MAN, a HUMAN man represents his species, his family, his cause. By the end of this day, clinic forty-two of the CORRUPTION BUREAU will be no more, even if it should cost me my LIFE!"

The crowd was cheering now. Billy drank in their adoration. He bathed in their admiration, and let it wash his troubled feelings away. He was the hero of Mankind, and they knew it.

He could never hope to attack the entire Bureau complex, not even if all the cowards that served him were willing. But a single man, if he were the right man, could easily perform a raid and come out alive. Charlene's betrayal would serve him; after this, he would never again have men like Daniel daring to question him. His dominance would be assured.

Billy was absolutely the right man.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Alexi knew what he must do. He stared at his waffles and eggs. He did not feel like eating them. Even if they had bacon, which they never did, he could not eat. His stomach felt hollow and cold, and his heart felt so heavy it could crush a mountain. Caprice would come for breakfast. She would sit down with him, of course. And she would be gentle and sweet and he must turn her away.

Alexi rehearsed the inevitable in his mind. He must do this correctly. Caprice would come, and sit across from him at the low table, as before. Only today, Alexi would not get her a tray. He would not pile that tray with delights just for her. He would tell her, "Get your own tray, pony! Alexi is not paid to feed the animals!" And she would begin to cry, confused, of course, but still loyal, because that was how she was. She would get a tray and come back to the table, and sit and she would ask Alexi if she had done something wrong. Yes, that is how it would be.

Then Alexi would tell her that she had done everything wrong, because she had become an animal. Alexi could not care for an animal except as a pet. He would say that he had thought about her request, and that he intended to never Convert, he would die a human being. He may work at a Conversion Bureau, but he did not agree with Conversion for himself. Maybe he would even hint that he had been reading Human Liberation pamphlets. Yes, that would do the trick.

Alexi would tell her he never wanted to see her again, that she should get on the ship tomorrow and go to Equestria so she could go live with the other animals! Then Alexi would storm out, shoulders square and fists strong, a big bear of a man, his broad shoulders the last thing the weeping peach pony would see of him. Yes, that too is how it would be! Alexi could see it all so clearly. This is how it must be. Caprice would cry, but she would be safe, thanks to Alexi. And when the men came, and took him, and they put Alexi on his knees, and put the gun to his head, he would think of his beautiful Caprice, and shout her name as -

"Alexi! We're going to have a foal!" A tray full of food had slammed down on the table beside Alexi. Caprice sat down beside him, and took a big mouthful of baked hay glazed with honey. "Mmmph mmm... I haven't decided on a name for her, but I'm sure something will come to me when I finally see what she looks like. Mmm... mmnn... This is pretty good, Alexi. I think even a human would enjoy this!"

Alexi sat, his mouth open. This wasn't how it... "What? What do you mean we are having a foal? I never even..."

"Don't be silly, Alexi. Goodness, I will have a lot to teach you, won't I?" Caprice took another bite of honeyed hay. "Mmnph...mmmm... Listen, Alexi, I know this is kind of a lot to spring on you like this, but someone brought in an abandoned human baby this morning. Just dumped it here. Dr. Pastern wanted to kill it, but I couldn't allow that, now could I?"

"Ah... um.." Alexi felt like somehow the room was spinning and he might fall over at any moment. "I... I suppose not, but you see, I had this thing to.."

"So, anyway.." Caprice took a bite of reconstructed banana, Thursday's fruit of the week. Real bananas had gone extinct on earth decades earlier, but it was still possible to nanoreplicate a decent copy of the favored treat. "...I think I got old Pastern to try a little harder. She'll find some way to Convert the little sweetheart - she's a newborn, Alexi, just a couple of weeks old, cute as can be, and she even tastes like sugar. Maybe I should name her sugar? What do you think?"

"A newborn...tastes? What? How do you know what this baby tastes like?" Alexi had sudden terrors involving cannibal ponies. Only they wouldn't be cannibals because they weren't human were they? The spinning of the room had turned into a gyrating ball of confusion, and Alexi was no longer sure he wasn't just having a strange dream at this point.

"Well, somepony had to properly comfort the poor little thing. Roselyn and Bethany certainly had no idea what to do. I groomed her a bit and she settled right down; it was like she knew I was going to be her mommy." Caprice ate some more of the hay 'n honey. "Mnnmm... mnph, anyway, sorry for putting us in the family way so soon, but we were going to have foals anyway, so why wait, right?"

"We were going to have... foals?" The room was now a fast car, maybe a nice red Lamborghini Electric, and it was racing off of a cliff... no, it was a tall building, built over a volcano. That was it, over a big volcano. And the moon was exploding for some reason. Alexi let his head sag down, and stared at his cooling waffles.

"Of course, dear Alexi." Caprice was really enjoying the hay and honey. "It's not like I expect you will be able to ignore me when I go into heat in the spring and summer. And it's not like I would want you to." Caprice's soft smile instantly brought Alexi a warm, safe peace, and banished the racing car and the bubbling volcano. Strangely, he felt as if he were in a field of flowers now, butterflies above his head, rather than in his stomach.

Caprice was somehow already standing. "I'm sorry for having to trot off like this, but I feel that Dr. Pastern is going to need me soon. Smile, honeyflanks! You're going to be a daddy!" With that, Caprice leaned out and kissed Alexi full on the lips. The moon somehow exploded for a second time.

Then Alexi was alone, with the faint taste of hay and honey on his lips.

When he could think again, he saw that she had left her tray. No problem, Alexi would take care of that for his precious peach princess. Then he noticed how quiet the noisy cafeteria was. It had been utterly quiet for some time now, come to think of it. He looked up.

Around him, at every table, large round eyes stared, the crowd looking like stunned fish floating in an aquarium. Human and Equestrian mouths alike hung open in shock and disbelief. Alexi looked back at them. Oh boy. Well, what else could a man do? Alexi Venäläinen defiantly stood up and roared, as proudly as he possibly could: "WELL, CONGRATULATE ME! ALEXI IS GOING TO BE A FATHER!"

The clapping started very slowly at first, a few nervous, frightened smacks, then gradually built to a stomping, yet rather puzzled, cheer.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Dr. Pastern went over her concept with Lynn. She needed a sounding board, and Lynn was the best PA she had ever worked with. "The problem is pain. I can't use the anesthesia we have, because it is unsuitable for a newborn. It isn't even recommended for use below age six. We almost lost that four-year-old, remember? It would take weeks to get Central to respond to a request for something appropriate, even if they would. I already know the response I would most likely get; terminate the child immediately and move on. With nineteen billion people to convert, one baby is beyond expendable."

Lynn was feeding little Jane Doe; Miriam had put together a bottle and nipple using a drinking glass and a rubber glove. It worked surprisingly well. "So what exactly is your plan, then, and how worried should I feel?" Pastern had that look in her eyes, the determined look that usually meant she was more intrigued than she should be about something that bordered on Mad Science.

"We've seen Conversion do miracles of regeneration, Lynn." Pastern was excited, and she began to speak more quickly. "We've seen multiple amputees come through here, quadruple amputees, and they came out the other side with all four legs, perfect ponies every one of them. The blind regrowing eyeballs, the dying snatched from the very edge of death itself. I just read a credible report of a decapitation victim regrowing his head; the body wasn't dead yet, and they just dumped serum over the remains. Complete blank slate, zero memories, total death of personality, but the result lived. A perfect newfoal, beginning a brand new life!"

Jane Doe needed to be held now, so Lynn put the bottle down and cradled the child in an upright position on her shoulder. "OK, Ros, I'm properly horrified because I think I see where you are going with this."

"We cut her spinal cord! Slice that sucker right after the potion goes in. Pretty much anywhere we want, right up to the C1!" Pastern was leaning forward, hands on the infirmary examination table, eyes wild. "Slish, slash and zero pain! The conversion process occurs without any transmission of pain, and would probably regenerate the spine right near the end of the job. Especially if we introduce the serum rectally. It doesn't even matter if she stops breathing; she has no memories, none, so nothing would be lost should damage occur to the brain! She's already a blank slate! So, whadaya think?"

"I think that you are a great doctor, and that you truly want to do good in the world, but that sometimes..." Lynn rocked gently from one foot to the other "...you are the scariest person I have ever met. Brilliant, but creepy."

"I appreciate the sweet words of affection," Pastern squinted at Lynn "but what I really want to know is: do you agree this should work?"

Lynn looked down at the little baby in her arms. She tried to imagine taking a scalpel to the back of it's neck. She shuddered. "It would work, I can't say it wouldn't work. But Jesus, Roselyn. I mean, seriously. Jesus Hellfire Christ."

"Do you have a better solution? Would you rather I just let the baby suffer? Can you offer any alternative?"

Lynn thought for a moment. "Actually..." The idea was odd, but...then again, compared to the alternative... "I do have a thought."

"I am absolutely all ears here. Please." Pastern waved her hand.

"Little Jane here came to us an unconscious drunk. Her mother kept her quiet by dosing her with whatever booze they make out in the slums. She probably feared some kind of attack or discovery should her baby cry." Lynn unconsciously gave the little girl a light kiss on her head. "It seems to me that unconscious is unconscious, right? And we already know that Jane here can tolerate the stuff. The damage from booze seems much less than a cervical dissection, at least to me."

Dr. Pastern seemed both chastened and embarrassed. "Uh... well, um, yes. I suppose you have a point there. Alcohol is a very ancient anesthetic tool, and one that has been used on infants for centuries." Lynn tried not to smile. "And it would be... less dramatic, I suppose." Pastern always meant well, Lynn thought, but sometimes... well she gets a little elaborate.

"Would it be enough?" Lynn began to doubt her own plan now. "I mean, would being passed out from alcohol be sufficient to counter the kind of pain we are talking about here?" There could possibly be a reason why Roselyn jumped to such a drastic solution.

Dr. Pastern looked grave. "Not... entirely, no. That is a valid concern. It would blunt it, but we are pretty much dealing with the maximum amount of pain possible here. Think about it, Lynn, you've seen what happens to our patients - every part of the body is in flux, changing growing, writhing and twisting. I can only imagine what it must be like. The closest thing I can think of is that it would be like a whole-body muscle cramp combined with having your internal organs run through a meat-grinder. I mean, you've seen it, three times a day, nearly every day, for the past six months!"

Maybe cervical dissection wasn't such a horrific notion after all. Lynn looked down at little miss Doe. She was half-asleep. It was impossible to wish any pain on the little girl. "Whatever you think is best, Dr. Pastern, I will support. I... don't know which is the better choice. I'm sorry."

Pastern thought for a moment. "How about this; we dose her with alcohol, based on body weight, to the point of apparent unconsciousness. Then we initiate conversion. I can have my scalpel ready. Only... damn. If I don't sever her spine immediately, I wouldn't dare to later, once the conversion kicks in fully." Pastern sighed. "Frankly, Lynn, I guess just don't feel good about the spinal dissection. It seemed sound in theory, though."

"Yes, it did. It probably would work, just as you described. But..." Lynn was rocking the child again. "...I personally couldn't face cutting her up. It's OK, Roselyn. You may be a doctor, but you are a person too, and cutting up healthy babies is... a little out there. Even if your intellect tells you that it will be alright in the end."

Pastern felt weak. She knew she was weak. That was why she never went into surgery. Internal medicine, specialization in nanotherapeutics. But not surgery. Roselyn sighed. "Let's get her started. What have we got in the way of useful alcohol?"

Baby Jane Doe soon lay on her back in the Conversion Room. She had a short length of surgical tubing inserted into her rectum, and a peripheral venous catheter in her arm. Jane was quite unresponsive, thanks to a carefully administered level of ethanol in her blood.

Dr. Pastern had consulted her terminal, finding that one and one half ounces of ponification serum was considered the standard dosage for children from four to ten, the full three ounces for ages above that. There was no data at all on children younger than four. Pastern found that strange. Surely someone had converted a baby before now! Then again, conversion had only existed in the world for seven months, and only applied to the ordinary population for six. These were the very first six months of the Conversion program. If any other clinic had ponified a newborn, nobody had written about the fact.

Maybe, so far, every other clinic had simply chosen termination, following the preferred corporate choice. That was certainly possible.

Pastern settled on using one full ounce. It seemed a reasonable choice, considering the small size of her patient.

Someone was pounding on the Conversion Room door. Lynn opened it; it was Caprice. "I need to be here, Lynn."

Lynn let Caprice into the room. "Dr. Pastern, I absolutely need to be here for my child. If I am to be her mother, I should be present at her true birth."

Dr. Pastern had finished measuring out exactly one ounce of the precious serum. This would wreck hell with the accounting, but if necessary, she could just flush the two useless extra ounces and say nothing to the corporation about any of this. Maybe that is why there was no record of other infant conversions!

"Hello, Caprice." Pastern carefully filled a syringe with the purple nanofluid, and attached the syringe to the rectal tubing. "I have to commend you on your tactics; you managed to successfully shame me into attempting this crazy stunt. I bow to your superior abilities." Roselyn did feel a little manipulated, she was perhaps a touch raw about it.

Caprice thought about that for a moment. "I... kind of don't plan stuff like that anymore. I used to. All the time. I was... very manipulative once. I don't mean to be that way now. Honestly, I just kind of operate on intuition. I just do what feels right in the moment, and I kind of go where it feels right to be." Caprice walked up to Roselyn, and looked up at her. "I just felt helpless, and maybe a little angry, when I walked out. But I am very glad that you chose to save her." Caprice pointed her nose at little miss Doe.

"Let's hope I know what I am doing, then." Dr. Pastern began steady pressure on the syringe, purple fluid shot up the tubing and into the child on the table. "Initiating Conversion. Time, Lynn?"

"11:24 AM, a little late, but hey, it's a special situation." Lynn gave a brave smile. Looking down at the baby, "Good luck, little one."

The last of the serum had entered Jane Doe's colon. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, her pale skin turned waxy, and the flesh of her tiny body began to ripple and squirm. Dr. Pastern pulled the tubes free from the body of the child.

Caprice stepped closer to the Conversion Table, and leaned her neck over to be nearer to the newborn infant. "This... this is what happened to me!" The peach pony's eyes were filled with wonder as she watched the tiny human body of Jane Doe gradually alter in shape to become an equally tiny foal. Silently, Roselyn, Lynn and Caprice watched as a miniscule sharp point rose up from the crown of the tiny head. Jane Doe was a unicorn.

The most delicate pale yellow sprouted and covered the naked creature, her coat the color of fresh butter. The mane and tail flowed forth, an even more subtle shade of yellow. "She looks like buttermilk!" Caprice seemed pleased.

"You've seen real buttermilk?" Lynn asked doubtfully.

"I've had real buttermilk." Caprice had hinted that her human background had been a wealthy one. Apparently very wealthy. "That's her name! I knew I would know her name when I finally saw her for the first time. My little Buttermilk. My sweet little Buttermilk."

Roselyn could see such love in Caprice's eyes. How could she have ever considered terminating the little unicorn?

Buttermilk was now, surprisingly, fully awake. The nanofluid must have deconstructed the alcohol as it went through her blood. If the foal had felt any pain, it was impossible to tell. Buttermilk opened her eyes. They were a bright, shining golden yellow. "Goodness!" Lynn seemed amazed. "That's one for the records. Her colors are uniform. That's what, only our third uniform coloration ever, Ros?"

"Congratulations, Caprice." Roselyn gently stroked the tiny foal, who had begun to plaintively squeal. "You're a mother."

Caprice looked up at Roselyn and Lynn, beaming. Then she began licking the little foal, soothing it, calming it. Soon the little unicorn began making cooing sounds of joy.

▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ▀ ▄ ■

Alexi was at his microphone, more nervous than usual. This was perhaps the strangest day he had ever experienced at clinic 042, and he had experienced many strange days. He still could not begin to process everything that was going on for him.

On one hand, he was a marked man, singled out for death. On another hand, he was apparently still with Caprice, who had made it impossible for Alexi to even try to make her abandon him. Somehow.

On a third hand, this meant that she was still in danger because he knew she would do anything to protect him, only she could not hope to succeed, leaving Alexi to have to find a way to protect her instead. Somehow.

And now, a fourth hand, Caprice had adopted a tiny foal, which meant that he, Alexi, was now a daddy, because he, Alexi, was for all intents basically married to the tiny foal's new mother. Somehow.

That was too many somehows and far too many hands; he should count on hooves, perhaps. But all of that must wait. It was lunch now, and Dr. Pastern had asked him to introduce little Buttermilk to the animals, and ask them to be nice and quiet so that the little foal would not be frightened by the noise of the crowd. That was her name, apparently, Buttermilk. Not a name Alexi's mother, god rest her soul, would necessarily have approved for a grandchild, but, what is one to do?

And the very strangest part of this very strange day? Alexi somehow felt very proud and happy to be a daddy. To a foal. Whose mother was a pony.

Feeling all of this had allowed Alexi to finally see, to finally fully understand the obvious truth about himself and Caprice, and their new daughter little Buttermilk as well. Everything was perfectly clear now.

Without question, Alexi had gone completely, utterly mad! Alexi was insane man now, beyond all help. Wave to the men in the white coats, Alexi! They are nice men. They will come and give Alexi happy pills and then comes the basket weaving. 'Ilmatyynyalukseni on täynnä ankeriaita', "My hovercraft is full of eels", Alexi will say.

So, Alexi has just decided to give up! There is no fighting the heart, that was now clear. If he was insane, at least it felt wonderful. Alexi no longer knew what was right or what was wrong. But he did know what he wanted, that, at least, was something.

"Shhhhh! Quiet, all my little animals!" Alexi spoke close to the microphone, his whispers booming through the cafeteria. Everyone stopped and listened to the strange, whispered announcement. "Shhhhh! Today we have a very special newfoal joining us. She is a baby unicorn, tiny and yellow, and her name is Buttermilk. She is only two weeks old, and so we should all be very very quiet, like little mice today, so she is not frightened. In a moment, Dr. Pastern will be taking Buttermilk through the cafeteria to her mother's room, so that is when to be quiet."

Alexi thought for a moment, then whispered "Thank you for this, it is important to me, Alexi, personally. And if you are very very VERY quiet, perhaps Caprice and I will let you see our little foal. That is all."

When Alexi entered the corridor to the Conversion Room he found Dr. Pastern, Lynn, and Caprice standing there, apparently waiting for him. Dr. Pastern held Buttermilk in her arms, wrapped in one of the blankets that Alexi had acquired for Lynn. He approached, and Caprice pushed up close to him and nuzzled his side and stomach with her head.

There in Dr. Pastern's arms, bright yellow eyes gazed up at him, innocent and wide. Alexi asked in a very low whisper "May I?" Pastern looked at Caprice. Caprice nodded with the largest smile she had ever shown. Roselyn carefully handed the little foal to Alexi, showing him how best to hold her.

Caprice looked up at Alexi, her big emerald eyes shining at him. Carefully, so carefully, he crouched down to be level with her head. Suddenly she was kissing him again. Let Pastern and Lynn think what they will. So, his lady happened to be a pony. She was a pretty pony.

He looked down again at the bundle he carried.

Alexi felt the small warmth in his arms, and saw the tiny, trusting, beautiful face. So, his daughter was a pony. Well, she was a pretty pony too.