The Conversion Bureau: Grade A
The ponies had arrived suddenly, and their influence had hit even faster than that. Slowly but surely, restaurants across the globe had either converted to vegetarian or simply vanished as their clientele became sparse. Most of those who closed up went pony for the simple reason of having lost everything. In doing so, they gained everything. It was a wonderful change. Equestria itself benefited from the mass influx of human recipes and techniques, and all were better for it.
Back in the dimension being devoured itself, things were stratifying. as the poor and middle classes were being ponified, the upper crust finagled and weaseled their way about. without having to worry about things like health insurance for their living employees, their own pockets filled with riches as the silent mechanoids labored in the factories. Without the middle and lower classes to buy their goods, though, even the rich would feel the pinch soon, but until then the world was ever more their oyster.
Nevermind the slowly expanding barrier between the worlds, the ever-leaking thaumatic radiation, or the rapidly changing shift in population ratio between ponies and humans.
As with all things, though, this was not the end. New markets opened up, trading in rare things and common. Strip clubs slowly became dress clubs, meat markets, rare as they were to start with, became greengrocers in every meaning of the sense.
The loss of the meat markets was a harsh blow to humans. Fresh meat had been replaced with synthetic, but even as close as the taste remained, the ever-discerning human palette always knew. Luckily for the few remaining restaurants willing to serve such a thing, the Meatpackers Union local 16151425 had their solution, and meat, real meat, flowed on the market once again.
If you were willing to pay the price.
* * *
The succulent scent of prime rib wafted over from the plate the waiter set out. The diner was hardly able to contain himself. It had been so long since he’d had anything so decadent, despite being a one-percenter. Reaching slowly for his fork with his left hand, knife already in his right, he sawed a delectable morsel and gently, reverently, placed it in his mouth and slowly chewed. The perfectly seasoned meat almost rolled across his taste buds, salt and pepper mingling with other, exotic, unknown spices. The expression he wore would easily have matched the one most newfoals had at their first meal as a pony.
The chef, one Augustus Hatcher, smiled, pleased with his latest creation. Meat, real meat, had become practically non-existent in the world at large. However, he had finally found a new supplier that was able to keep him stocked. His restaurant had been nearing total failure, but with such magnificent supplies to be had Augustus had managed to pull through. His restaurant, Cuisine d’Art, was now one of the few remaining in Cincinnati that catered to a rapidly decreasing human population. Ah, but those that did show up to enjoy a treat were always more than able to afford it.
He turned away from the small window looking out of his kitchen and back to his personal station. three other cooks buzzed around him, busy with side dishes, desserts, appetizers, and other orders, but only Augustus was allowed to cook the meat. Hamburgers, steaks, chops, roasts, it didn’t matter. scarcity demands perfection, and only Augustus trusted himself to the preparation of perfection.
Raymundo Vinicelli, Augustus’s hand-picked second and best friend, walked up to the overweight chef and patted him on the back
“Another satisfied customer, Boss?”
Augustus chuckled. almost anything he’d toss on their plate would merely “satisfy.”
“I am truly a gift to our art, Ray, if that isn’t too self-idolizing.” Raymundo joined Augustus in his merriment. It was an old joke between the two.
“That was almost it for this shipment. We’re down to scraps, save for a few ribeyes. Those scraps are fine for grinding, but anything more substantial and it’s back to synthetics,” Raymundo confided in his friend. “And you and I know they simply don’t integrate the spices so well.”
“You do not lie, I fear. I’ll get another order placed immediately.” Augustus trundled his girth over to the telephone, a hold-out from the original owners more eccentric decorative choices, and dialed up his supplier’s number. Four rings later, a gravelly voice answer.
“Meat Packers union, local number 16151425, whatcha need?”
“‘Whatcha need?’ Ralphie, how uncouth.”
“Auggie! Hey, what, you need another order already? Gonna warn ya, price’s gone up again...” Ralphie’s gravelly voice lightened at the thought of a sale.
“How bad is it this time, Ralphie? I still have to make a profit, you know,” came Augustus’s usual parry in this pricing duel.
“Pretty bad, this time. Eighty pounds, 3500 creds. And that’s with your frequent purchaser discount.”
That was pretty bad. A thousand credits more than a week ago, but if he trimmed portions just so, and perhaps had a “hamburger special” day, he could just make enough to keep going.
“Very well, Ralphie. It pains me, but I am in dire need of a shipment. Go ahead and schedule it.”
“Sure thing, Auggie, I’ll get it to ya soon as I can. See you then.”
“You too.” Click.
* * *
The park was getting greener and greener. August had no idea how it was happening, but it was. He’d made a habit of late between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd to stroll the grassy lanes among his fellow humans. Being only a few blocks from his own restaurant, he was able to get there and back easily enough. Ponies didn’t frequent this park; despite their love of the outdoors, the breeze brought the delectable scent of his restaurant straight down to the park. Ponies had no taste for his kind of delicacies.
A fair number of humans had gathered this day. With weatherponies policing the skies, it was a sunny, warm, and altogether pleasant way to spend an afternoon.
Right up until he heard the muffled *fwump.* A sickly purple mist, stinking of grapes like a rotten wine, began filling the park. Those who were caught in it fell and began screaming. A loudspeaker squealed to life.
“Do not fear, friends! Celestia’s gift to you is the way! Breathe deep and rejoice! We of the PER welcome and embrace you!”
Augustus began running in the opposite direction, but another *fwump* echoed behind him. A metal canister similar in size and shape to a coffee tin landed squarely in front of him. With a *bang* it began hissing the same mist he’d seen before. Augustus screamed in terror as he felt his limbs begin to twist. Unconsciousness was a blessing.
* * *
The ambulances pulled up to the scene and began loading traumatized newfoal ponies into their rear hatches, some as many as four to a vehicle.
“Oof. this’n’s a big one. Gimme a hand,” spoke a driver to his ride-along. they each crouched on either side of the orange, green-maned earth pony, brushing away the ripped and shredded remain of a chef’s smock. With no little amount of effort, the pair hefted the overweight pony into the rear of the ambulance, then injected him with a sedative as they had the others. They slammed the rear doors shut and climbed into the front of the vehicle. The driver touched the ignition button and piloted the vehicle onto the thoroughfare, leaving ahead of most of the other emergency transports.
“Damned PER,” cursed the driver. “More poor souls lost to them ponies.”
“Yeah. The HLF is supposed to be protecting these folks. I mean, we’re the last chance any of ‘ems got. Oh well.” Ralphie chuckled. “We’ve quite a haul with these four. I need to remember to lower Auggie’s price next time.” Ralphie chuckled again. “And I guess that’s why they call these things meat wagons.”
Frank, the driver, quickly turned down an alleyway once he had driven out of view of the other emergency crews. He wasn’t prepared for the flash of cerulean and the crumpling of his front bumper. A megaphone dashed itself against the windshield, and a splatter of purple spread out in the alley in front of them.
* * *
Evangeline smiled as she watched the park denizens fall and, though the screaming hurt her deep inside, she knew that when they’d awaken they’d thank her. Perhaps some would even join the cause! Celestia’s gift was a wonderful thing, and Evangeline wished it upon all the remaining masses of humanity. Unfortunately, the authorities didn’t exactly agree with the light blue unicorn’s views, so she slunk out of sight. The rest of her team, armed with the gas canisters, were doing the same at this point. they’d fired three canisters each from the launchers and dusted off, each in a different direction. They’d all meet later at base. She levitated her megaphone and dashed away down the alleyway.
Her saddlebags, full of normal potion vials, clinked gently with each bob as she trotted down the alley. She turned left...or, was she supposed to turn right?
Half an hour later, lost in the maze of alleyways, she was startled by the sudden appearance of a silver bumper at her eye level. She never need be worried about getting lost in the alleyways again.
Frank and Ralphie stepped out of the ambulance, grimacing at the mess the pony had made of their bumper. Of the pony itself, they didn’t mind. One more for the grinder.
“Toss ‘er in, Frank.”
“You toss ‘er in, Ralphie. she’s covered in that grape gunk.”
“Looks like she was haulin’ some of that crap around. Musta been part of our earlier windfall.” They’d heard about the gas-bombing thanks to the emergency scanner. They hadn’t had to go hunting, and now they had yet another one. Even if it’d cost them a bumper and a windshield.
“Bleh, can’t let a fresh one go to waste. Grab the gloves.”
“Tch, whatever....” Frank walked over to the passenger side and reached into the glove box, appropriately enough, and slid the elbow-length rubber gloves onto his forearms. He tossed the other pair to Ralphie, and went to work, each taking a pair of legs and lifting. The pony formerly known as Evangeline’s tail slipped down and fell under Frank’s foot where, combined with the potion-covered ground, made for poor footing.
Frank slipped, falling back into the potion-covered ground.
* * *
The green field spread out forever, and Frank knew it did so. The sky’s infinite depths gleamed indigo. It called to him, and to it he rose. Buoyed by unseen counterweights, he reveled in the feeling. He always liked flying dreams.
It wasn’t long before he found himself gliding into a castle window, and settling before two shining throne, one Gold and white, one black and blue. Two stern-faced, regal beings stood before him.
Frank spoke first, a sudden weight dragging on his chest.
“I....I’m not a good pony.” His head sagged, tears welling up in his eyes. “Please...I know who you are. Please, please forgive me.”
Celestia and Luna, for that was indeed who they were, glanced to each other, passing silent judgement. Luna spoke.
“Our judgement is such: in your new life, strive to forgive yourself. Strive to help each and every pony you come across. Strive to make a better life of every life around you. Only then will you earn your place.”
“It’s more than I deserve, highnesses. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I-” Frank stopped speaking, his eyes going wide, his face slack. he stumbled, falling, and closed his eyes. His very presence fading away before the royal thrones.
* * *
Ralphie’s .40 S&W semi-auto handgun still smoked as his former partner shuddered, then lay still. The horridly bright green pegasus, a yellow mane atop his misshapen head, lay with no heartbeat pumping the red liquid of life; the hole Ralphie left there only oozing slowly.
“Sorry, Frank. Just business. I know you’d do the same for me.”
Ralphie cursed, glancing back and forth between the neon green pegasus and the bluish unicorn. He’d have to haul both to the rear of the ambulance by himself now. Frank would definitely do the same. It left Ralphie doing all the work.
Hauling the two one at a time was hard work. Ralphie wasn’t an immensely strong individual, but he got the job done. He slung the bar-lock closed on the modified “meat wagon” and stepped around to the left, climbing into the driver’s seat. In the back, however, a portly pony began to stir. It groaned
So did Ralphie. Now he’d have the accursed things yammering at him for the rest of the trip. thankfully, none of the others were showing signs of moving. Maybe the PERs slip-shod potion had done them in or maybe the sedative they’d injected was still working. The orange earth pony was a big fella. Perhaps they hadn’t given him enough.
Augustus slowly opened his eyes, groggily looking about. He put an orange hoof to his head trying to get the room to stop spinning. Wait...hoof?
Yes, hoof. Augustus remembered now. He supposed he was a pony now. It wasn’t all bad, save for the odd, detached feeling in his head. Actually, he felt really good. Almost happy. He began giggling.
Ralphie rolled his eyes. “Hey, quiet back there, I’m trying to drive this beast.” Ralphie felt at this juncture that perhaps mentioning their destination wasn’t a very good idea.
Augustus knew that voice. “Ralphie? Is that you?”
“Eh? Who’s askin’?”
“Ralphie, it’s me, Augustus! Why are you driving this...” Augustus looked around, noting for the first time the unconscious forms around him. “Ambulance?”
“Uhh...didn’t I tell ya, I’m a part-time EMS driver. Yeah. Called me in when the park was hit, needed some extra help. All those poor people. Guess you're the first up, huh?” This complicated things. Auggie was nominally a friend of his, but his Auggie was dead and gone, like Frank. He needed to shut this doppelganger up. “Afraid your order’s going to be a little late.”
“My order?” Augustus felt queasy. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his recent ordeal or due to the thought of the meat. the nausea intensified. Definitely the meat. “Cancel my order, Ralphie. I don’t think I’ll be cooking any of that again.”
“You have no idea, Auggie.” Ralphie pulled the vehicle to a stop, and Auggie stumbled forward, attempting to stand on his newly-shaped appendages.
“What are we stopping for, Ralphie?”
“Gonna make things a bit more comfortable, Aug.Hang tight a moment.” Augustus heard Ralphie click open his door and shuffle out.
Augustus made his way to the back, and, as Ralphie undid the door, Augustus stumbled into it, slamming it wide open and cracking Ralphie in the head with the bar latch. Augustus tumbled out, and Ralphie tumbled down, a pistol skittering away loudly down the cobblestone of this particular alleyway.
Augustus groaned again, his head swimming once more, but he didn’t miss the pistol. A bright green form tumbled out of the ambulance behind him, landing squarely in front of his face. Blank, red eyes stared at him, a red hole perched between them like an oozing red bindi.
Augustus’s eyes shot wide, his irises contracted, and he scrambled backwards, away from the very dead pegasus. He looked to unconscious Ralphie, the ambulance, and the pistol, a very, very disturbing connection forming in the back of his happy little pony mind.
Augustus screamed, and ran, his subconscious taking over the job of motivating his unsure legs. The chubby orange pony with the green mane ran faster than he’d ever gone in his life. It was only luck that he burst out on the street, and more luck still that he hadn’t been ran over by the startled cyclist he’d intersected.
* * *
Raymundo paced back and forth. Augustus wasn’t back yet, and he’d been gone hours. Worse was the news that the PER had gas-bombed the park Augustus favored. Raymundo could only pray his boss and friend was ok. A sudden banging at the back door brought him from his reverie. He dodged the other cooks and went back to answer.
Standing at the back door was Ralphie, a chilled crate on a dolly beside him. He had a black eye, but otherwise still had the slouch he normally bore.
“Ah, Ralphie, I’m sorry, Augustus isn’t in. I can sign for it, though.”
“Sure you ain’t seen ‘im?”
“Not at all.”
“Eh. Don’t matter to me none, as long as the delivery’s complete. I’ll catch him later. Seeya Ray.”
Raymundo glanced around. the first orders of the night were pouring in, and without Augustus around, it fell to him to prepare the meals. He hoped Augustus wouldn’t be too angry with him for daring to cook his specialties.
Raymundo unpacked the crate, laying out the wonderfully marbled cuts. These were some of the best cuts Ralphie had managed to provide yet.
“I hope the boss gets here soon.”
