The Reasonably Adamant Down With Celestia Newfoal Society!by ChatoyanceChapters2. They whose jimmies have been rustled3. The ineffable horror of absent digits5. Is statue? It IS you! I thought it was you!6. No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man7. Life is a Cabaret, old chum8. Trouble right here in River City9. Yeah, them chicken coops was full of bears10. Love is a song that never ends1. Revenge is a dish best served on a bun4. We gonna rock down to Thaumatic Avenue2. They whose jimmies have been rustledThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance2. They whose jimmies have been rustled Bucket looked at the hard-packed dirt road as he pulled his cart. It was a large and heavy cart, and what it was filled with could loosely be called soil. 'Night Soil', Bucket vaguely recalled. Yeah, that was it. Night soil. His load was a loaded load of load. And it was full of it. So was that fancy purple stallion with the whipdy-dipdy golden mane. He was full of it, and so were all the rest of those overly wealthified ponies at the meeting. Especially that Showers colt. 'Oh no no no... nothing so crass as bits!' Tain't nothin' wrong with bits. Especially if a stallion didn't have that many in the first place. But the society was the only place Bucket knew to go. He felt cheated, and he wanted some amends made, preferably in neat, golden stacks. All the time he was on Earth, slaving away at his janitorial job in the nanotech factory, he'd heard and seen all the propaganda about Equestria. Brand new world. Green and lush. Plenty of sunshine and flowers. Everypony is your friend, and the food is the best and Celestia only knows what all else. That ain't exactly how things turned out. Oh, Equestria was green and lush and all, that part was right enough. And he was sure that the food was great, provided a pony could afford to buy some. At his wages, he was lucky to get a doughnut every day and a pie on the weekend. The rest of the time he did what all poor ponies did, he went out and grazed. Grass grew everywhere, along with flowers, herbs, and fruit, so it wasn't like he was going to ever go hungry - fact was, he was packin' on a few pounds. He had a thing for pie, he knew it. But swirls, what else was a pony of his... occupation... supposed to do? It wasn't like the mares were beating down his door. And it also wasn't like there was anything on the holovision to watch - because there weren't no darn holovision in the first place! The bare fact of it was, ain't nopony done showed him how to BE a pony, exactly. What did ponies do for fun, anyhow? How was he supposed to spend his time when he wasn't sleepin', eatin' or doin' his job? It wasn't like he didn't have a nice place to live, or food to eat. It was just... he pulled a dung cart, and while that needed doin', it weren't exactly glamorous. Bucket figured that, if he only had a big pile of bits like the others at the meetin' had, life as a pony would probably be pretty good. He felt strong, he felt healthy as a... no, he weren't doin' that joke again. Nopony laughed at that joke no more. But he felt healthy, that was sure enough. He never had muscles like he had now. He was built like a Britt Shickhouse, and that weren't no joke - once, just to see, he had bucked a tree right over, roots and all. It was like bein' Superman, only a pony. Superpony. Now that was a thought. If he were a pegasus, he could even fly. But he weren't. Bucket was an earthpony. Sometimes that was mighty helpful, though. The berries'd grow back almost as fast as he could eat them. Probably another reason he was gettin' a little heavy, even if it didn't show none. Well, maybe as muscles. Maybe it weren't fat, maybe pullin' that heavy cart was the answer, and he was just gettin' muscles on his muscles. In any case, he was weighin' more on that scale they had in the store. Canterlot was a convoluted old city. Twisty roads and tunnels through the mountain, all kinds of secret paths and whatnot. It had really strained his noggin the first weeks just trying to memorize his daily route. Smarter. Yep. He felt smarter too. But he still felt cheated. Equestria had been sold as some kinda paradise, and he had ended up pullin' a dung cart and eatin' pie on the weekends, and there had to be more to life than that in paradise. So he'd up and joined those rich ponies little society. Somehow, he hoped, some of those bits might just rub off on him. He weren't really all that upset he was a pony, but they sure were, and it weren't nothin' to kinda... join in. Bucket tried not to think of the other night, when he'd bothered to go to the local salt bar and see if he could meet somepony. He'd found what he thought were a right nice mare, but the moment he started talkin' about his job, that was plumb it. Good bye and don't let the barn door hit ya where your tail comes out. All he'd done was try to explain the different kinds of soil. There was the big round lumps and the small, kinda sticky lumps, and the green ones that smelled like wet hay, and the sorta yellow-y brown lumps that were hard as rocks and he couldn't figure out what the cinnamon some ponies done been eatin' to make somethin' like that. It was basic, factual stuff, educational, even, and he'd been hard pressed to figure out why the cute filly had needed to take a permanent powder. It was not that much different than his job at the nanotech factory back when he'd been a human. Night soil went in, and food and clothing came out. Also building materials. Wasn't quite as direct, here in Equestria. The night soil had to get made into compost, then put in a field, and then plants had to grow, and then you had to harvest stuff and... it was pretty inefficient, all things considered. Humans had done it better. Poop goes in, meal bar comes out. It's all just molecules! But the pony way weren't so bad, really. Plants was pretty, and they tasted good - better than meal bars, to tell the honest truth. Loads better. To be truly honest, Bucket didn't think he could choke down a meal bar now, if any had existed anymore. Bucket reckoned that maybe the inefficiency had a point to it, really. Bucket waited while the compost forecolt unhitched him from the cart. It was in place now, and could be tipped into the heap. While Bucket waited, he tried to figure out if he could afford another Oatburger meal to take to the meetin' tonight. Tonight was supposed to be important, a plannin' meetin', so they could decide whatever it was they were fixin' to ultimately do. All-grain patties. Now that was eatin'! Royal was at the podium, his immaculate hooves hammering at the tough wood to get the ponies to hush up. It took longer, this time, because there were more now. Golden had brought his third butler, a native pony named Bitsworth who was very busy butling about, attending his employer. Royal had felt some concern about a native Equestrian being allowed in, but Golden Showers would hear none of it - his third butler was loyal and dependable and also his favorite, and in any case could be trusted absolutely. Royal had tried to point out that the focus of the society was 'Down With Celestia', something a native might reasonably be expected to take some serious umbrage at, but again Golden had reiterated the overwhelming discretion and trustworthiness of Bitsworth, and in any case there was no point in rebellion unless one could do it in comfort. While Bitsworth trotted off to get the well-padded Golden another basket of aged cider and a plate of fine cheeses, Royal studied the other new ponies that had arrived. Chair had brought his wife and foals, because he couldn't bear to be apart from them, and apparently they were curious about 'his new playmates'. His wife, Honeybutter, was also a native Equestrian, but Chair had claimed that he had her full support in everything. Also, he wouldn't come if she wasn't welcome. Royal had just shaken his head - after Chair's impassioned complaint that his free human life had been replaced with domestic bliss against his will, it was beyond logic how any of this could possibly work out well... but what the hay. Chair's foals, Daisy Dew and Wildweed were seriously cute, but they needed to quiet down. They liked singing overly happy songs a little too loudly for Royal's taste - worse, Hot Topic and Argent had joined in, and it was entirely getting out of control. Especially since they had started clapping their hooves together in time to the beat. "HEY! HEY! ALRIGHT! EVERYPONY... gah - EVERYBODY - SETTLE DOWN NOW!" Royal hammered his sparkling hooves down like hammers. The sound was lost in the clapping and singing. "NEIGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" It was an instinctive, animal sound, but it was also as loud as Royal could possibly be. It worked. Argent, Topic and the foals looked up, frozen in place, surprise on their muzzles. Bitsworth remained unaffected, as he continued to pour cider for a startled Golden. Chair and Honeybutter looked at each other, then up at the podium. Bucket swallowed his bite of oatburger without remembering to chew first, and ended up in a coughing fit for several minutes. After a long guzzle of melonade, he was finally stabilized. "Ahem!" Royal liked all the eyes trained on him, waiting expectantly. This felt like the old days, on Earth, with the board of directors waiting for orders from their chief. Oh, yeah, this was the stuff. Royal gave his golden, shining mane a toss. Yeah. Definitely the stuff alright. "Welcome, everypony to the..." "EVERYBODY!" Even Bitsworth, Honeybutter and the foals joined in. It was like they had rehearsed. "Um... yes. EVERYBODY..." Royal reached a hoof up to straighten a nonexistent collar, an old habit from his human days. Sheepishly, he put his hoof down. "Welcome to the second meeting of the..." "THE REASONABLY ADAMANT DOWN WITH CELESTIA NEWFOAL SOCIETY!" the assembled group intoned, as loudly and clearly as they could. Then they started giggling, because, well, it had been remarkably fun doing that, actually. Especially with the look on Royal's muzzle after the intonation was done. Honeybutter needed some time to get the foals settled down again - they wanted to shout it a second time. "Ah... yes." Once again Royal found his hoof at the side of his neck, sure enough, there was no collar and no tie. Maybe he needed to start wearing a tie, just to have something to fiddle with. "I suppose we all know why we are here, then?" Golden Showers gave his butler a wave with his hoof, from his position reclining on a pile of silken pillows. Bitsworth cleared his throat and began to recite. "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation, To denounce the evils of ponification, To demand respect and full restitution, We are The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society! We bring the news of the Newfoal's plight, Celestia respect! or prepare to fight. The RADWiCkiNS gallop toward what's right!" The haughty butler cleared his throat, then turned back to seeing if his employer required more exquisite cheeses and imported carrots. "RADWICKINS!" Royal somehow squeaked when he repeated the acronym. "Are you serious?" "Just something Bitsworth here tossed off when I explained our little group to him. Rather good job, don't you think?" Golden smiled at his trusted butler, who returned the compliment with a proud nod. Royal stared open-mouthed at the plump, bright yellow earthpony ensconced in his fortress of silky pillows. Golden stretched his neck to sip at some cider. Royal's eyes rolled to Bitsworth, waiting patiently by his employer's side. Bitsworth gave a little, dismissive flick of his tail and a short flick of his ears - a pony shrug. Royal slowly closed his mouth. Maybe there was more anti-Celestia sentiment in Equestria than he imagined. It was not something he would have considered possible in all of the four years he had lived here, since the end of the Earth. Nopony ever expressed anything except praise and absolute love for the princesses. Was Bitsworth secretly a Newfoal? That seemed unlikely too. Royal shook his mane. Back to business. "Well, that was... fantastic... Bitsworth. Showers." Royal wished he had thought to bring a cup of water to the podium. He would have to remember for next time. "Still... Radwickins?" "Is it not proper to add vowel sounds to complex acronyms in order to make them pronounceable, sir?" Bitsworth was ever so proper in his manner. "Yes... I suppose it is." Royal hadn't a clue about such things, but it certainly seemed as if Golden's butler was on the ball. "Radwickins it... is, then. I suppose." Somehow the name did not seem as impressive as Royal had hoped. He made another mental note to consider acronyms in the future. Water cup, acronyms, he repeated in his mind. "OOH! OOH! I have an idea for what we could do!" It was Chair's wife, Honeybutter. Royal decided to roll with things - if a native butler could write the society motto, then he might as well hear out Chair's native-born wife. "The chair recognizes Honeybutter. Continue." "Huh?" Honeybutter looked perplexed. "Do I look strange?" Royal felt very confused. "Do you look strange?" "I don't know! Do I?" Honeybutter glanced at her husband, worried. "I don't think you look strange! Why would you say my wife looks strange?" Chair glared at Royal. "I... never!" Royal moved straight from confused to befuddled. "I never said your wife looked strange!" "Not in so many words..." Honeybutter considered the situation. She turned again to her husband "Do you know who I am?" Chair blinked, not comprehending any of this. "Huh?" "Do you know who I am?" Honeybutter seemed very concerned now. "You're my wife. Of course I know who you are!" Chair was feeling frustrated by this, a sentiment shared by many at the meeting. "Why wouldn't I know who you are?" "Well," Honeybutter pointed an accusing hoof at the podium. "HE doesn't seem to think so!" Royal decided that befuddled was insufficient and nearly stripped his gears moving up into confounded. "I have NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!" Argent looked over at Topic, who shrugged with his ears. Thunder Road started to say something, but then fell silent. Bitsworth wisely kept out of it all, and concentrated on searching through his basket for more cheese for Golden. Golden for his part nervously studied his cider. This was beyond him. Bucket thought he had the answer, but reckoned they'd all just glare at him, so he decided to stick his muzzle into the fry bag to see if there were any more hay fries in there. "Listen, Royal." Chair was staring intently at the deep purple earthpony "If my wife says you don't think I can recognize her, then that's what happened." Royal swallowed, his throat dry. He couldn't afford anypony getting upset and leaving - the society had just begun. Suddenly, he had an inkling, and his confoundment went down two levels to mere confusion again. "Honeybutter!" Royal put on his best smile for her "Tell me exactly what you think I said, please." Honeybutter thought for a moment, and then spoke. "You asked me if my husband knew who I was!" Suddenly it all made sense. Confusion was repealed in favor of understanding. "No, no!" Royal laughed. "I said 'The chair recognizes you...'" "Well of course I do! She's my wife!" Chair was even more upset. "No, no, NO!" Royal's head was getting that pounding feeling in the left temple. "The CHAIR! THE CHAIR RECOGNIZES YOU!" "AND WHY WOULDN'T I?" Chair had stood up now, and his jaw was locked in place, teeth showing, ears flat against his skull. "AUGHHHH!" Royal turned away from the podium and walked towards the wall behind it. He waited a moment in the nervous silence, then returned. "Wait, calm down, everypony, please." "EVERYBODY!" the yell was almost deafening, and it set the room giggling and laughing. Royal found himself unable to speak for several minutes, every time he tried he began laughing again. "He means the chairpony of the meetin'." Bucket finally decided to say something. Nopony would glare at him if they were laughing like that. "It's Robert's Rules Of Order, from back on ol' Earth. Th' Chairpony runs the meetin' and recognizin' is the way that other ponies get to talk!" There, that ought to finally get some respect. Ten pairs of eyes glared down at Bucket. It was hardest seeing the glare from the foals. Yep, thought Bucket, that was definitely the worst. Bucket felt stupid for speaking up. He should have known better. Argent and Topic tried not to look at each other, they felt stupid because it was so muffin obvious now, and they should have spoken up. Daisy Dew and Wildweed felt stupid because they had no clue what was going on, but mostly they didn't like the way Bucket smelled. Chair felt stupid because he felt like his name had been made fun of, somehow. He wasn't sure how. Honeybutter felt stupid because she had caused a big fuss in front of her husband's friends. Showers felt stupid because something had happened, and he realized he really hadn't been paying much attention. Thunder Road felt stupid because she hadn't figured it out, and she thought she should have. Royal felt very stupid for letting the whole thing get out of hoof. He was supposed to be the chairpony - PERSON - here, and he was not living up to his own expectation. Bitsworth didn't feel the least bit stupid. He had shut the swirl up, and came out smelling like a rose. Little smartie! Bucket looked down. Bucket always looked down. Royal stomped his hoof on the podium, giving three short raps. "Well, now, shall we return to the matter at hoof? Er... hand? Hoof. No use denying reality. Definitely hoof." He was losing them. "Honeybutter! You said you had an idea as to what we could do?" "Um...." Honeybutter looked around nervously. "I do. If my husband recognizes me, of course." Giggles rippled around the room. Chair stood up. "Chair recognizes his wife." More giggles. "And she's real pretty, too." That filled the room with choruses of 'D'awwww..." and Honeybutter leaned over for a quick smooch. "Thank you, tight flanks." Chair managed a rather fetching shade of red at that. Royal's neck was getting bruised from his hoof digging into it. A tie. There had to be a shop that sold ties somewhere in Canterlot. "SO...." Royal shifted his rear hooves. It was very uncomfortable to stand up on hind legs for so long. "What was your idea, Honeybutter?" Honeybutter stepped near the front of the podium and looked around the room. "I was thinking that... well..." Every pony in the room leaned forward, expectantly. Finally, a plan. Some action. A way to achieve their goals. "It just sort of came to me, really..." Honeybutter looked like she had a clear vision, a well considered concept. "After, you know, noticing how warm the evenings have become..." It was absolutely true. The evenings had become warmer, ever since winter had been wrapped up several weeks ago. It had been a major task, because the pegasai had been behind again, and the winter had needed to be a hard one to catch up. But the pegasai had overdone things, and so this summer was expected to be especially warm as a result. Those darn pegasai. "Yessss????" The room collectively held it's breath, everypony ready for the revelation to come. Honeybutter smiled, a big, warm Equestrian smile. "I figured... we could all go get ice cream together!" The room exploded in happy, excited clopping and clapping of hooves. Smiles met smiles and grins faced down smiles forcing the smiles to upscale into full grins just to keep pace. It was at that precise moment that the hoots and hollers returned to claim their rightful place in the scheme of things. "ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!" it was, after all, the perfect summer treat. Royal hung his head. There was nothing for it, the will of the ponies had spoken. The first official act of the RADWICKINS had been determined. They all headed out into the warm sweet-smelling night, diamond stars glittering above in the perfect sky, intent on bringing the tyranny of Celestia down through the time-tested subversion of ice cream. Later, with sticky hooves, little Daisy Dew put it into perspective "Bestest revo... revu... rebel-vol-ution EVER!" Then she buried her muzzle in strawberry and sprinkles. 3. The ineffable horror of absent digitsThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance3. The ineffable horror of absent digits Argent struggled with his latest review, a quill, freshly dipped, floating within his tightly held thaumatic field. He had found himself naturally talented with telekinesis almost the moment that he had awakened from the attack. The 'Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth', the PER, had blasted open the wall of the Fetal Reclamation Center where Argent had worked in his human life. One moment, he had been sitting at a console, adjusting nutrients for the slurry of cells recently harvested from unhappily pregnant favela dwellers - each of which had gotten a small sum of credits for their troubles, they called it the 'Pot Belly Lottery' - and the next he was waking up as a silvery unicorn stallion with the most exquisite, theatre-red mane. His talents first showed themselves when he almost absently ripped away the constraining jumpsuit that bound his four new legs, and when he discovered he could hover almost an inch off the floor for seconds at a time, he was ecstatic. That is how the Blackmesh had found him, laughing and gliding across the cell-tank enclosure showroom like the old Pre-Collapse movie star Tom Cruise in the ancient 2D 'Risky Business'. Argent had deliberately kept his underwear on to reenact the scene - he was quite the fan of old media from before the Nano Age. Suddenly his regimented corporate life was gone. He had been shipped off to Equestria without even a stop at a Bureau, and suddenly found himself in the spotlight. It was an accident - he happened to be in a herd of recently arrived Newfoals waiting to be processed when the two princesses of Equestria passed by, ostensibly to inspect the relocation process. Apparently two years previously there had been some... trouble... with a renegade pegasus stranding Newfoals out in the middle of nowhere, and regular tours were now part of the princesses routine. It was early evening, and Princess Luna had been telling her sister about her new-found appreciation of human media. The only forms that could survive passing through the barrier had been non-electronic, and that left preserved celluloid films and vinyl records for the most part. Luna was trying to remember the name of a film she had particularly enjoyed and found relevant. It was about a group of human colts who had mysterious dreams about the human magic of electronics, and ended up building a conveyance out of collected bits and pieces. The young colts, barely yearlings really, had the hope of achieving great discoveries as they soared out among the stars - a section Luna particularly approved of - only to find, in the end, that the great beings of the sky were just foals, like themselves. In the end, deep and permanent friendships were established between the two species. Luna just couldn't remember the name. Argent had found himself out of line and in front of the princess before he had even thought about what he was doing. Nopony liked the things he liked, and finally... well finally he had found somepony, anypony. Forgetting to even bow, he had heard himself blurt out "EXPLORERS - 1985, human calender, directed by Joe Dante, written by Eric Luke! It starred Ethan Hawke, River Phoenix and Bobby Fite, not to mention the incredible Robert Picardo among others. Often overlooked, this gem of 80's cinema captured perfectly the foalhood dream of adventure and the joy of discovering purpose in the world, all while underscoring the timeless and universal theme of true friendship!" In that moment of shocking disregard for station and social convention, Argent's life had been determined. He had felt the musical sting on his flank, only to turn and find the image of an old-fashioned film reel shining there. What happened after was a blur, but it somehow ended up sitting with the princess of the night in her tower in the castle, watching and discussing old movies from Earth for nearly a week. When next Argent was able to assess himself, it was a month later. He had taken an Equestrian name, and he was now the creme de la creme of critics, with a schedule full of plays and musicals to attend and review. He had been reduced to having his maid pile the gifts that arrived for him from hopeful starlets in a closet that was perilously overfull, and he had been forced to hire an accountant because his wealth had exceeded his ability to deal with it. The number of parties and functions required a secretary, and soon he realized that in critiquing celebrity, he had become a celebrity himself. But this was not enough. Argent found a deep longing inside him, something he could neither understand nor give name to. He lacked for nothing, really, yet he felt alone and lost in the world. When Royal had scheduled a meeting with him, he had expected another demand to change his review score. Instead, Argent had found another stallion who shared his feeling of discontent, and seemed to have a scheme to solve it. Without a clue as to what was bothering him, Argent the unicorn critic had become a RADWICKINS. He found himself looking forward to the meetings far more than any party or social event among the upper tiers of Canterlot. "YES! YES!! We will be having a treat at the end, but I have to tell you... it isn't ice cream!" The groans and sounds of pony disappointment practically shook the walls. It had been a month and a half now of weekly meetings, and the membership had grown at an astounding rate. Royal didn't even have a clear concept of how many RADWICKINS there were, now. There were ponies lined up, outside the door - inside, the rented meeting hall had become a sauna that had required the services of pegasai and clouds and windows and things Royal didn't really understand. All he knew is that it cooled things off. "Alright... alright..." Royal could feel his damnable pony brain forcing him to not allow other ponies to suffer even mock disappointment. "...I have to say this much..." He really did feel like he had to say it "...there IS ice cream involved. But it's a surprise!" The roof-shaking cheers and hoof-claps filled him with unwanted pleasure and joy, and nothing he could do managed to stop the wide grin that spread across his muzzle. It felt like his very soul was bubbling with glee at the thought of how happy everypony would be when the surprise was revealed. Royal sighed. Maybe there was just no fighting it. Especially since he loved chairing these meetings so incredibly much. This was precisely what he had missed from Earth. Feeling important at meetings. Every week, he was the center of attention, the master of ceremonies, the focus of every eye, and... he loved it. Perhaps it was a small sacrifice to give up the staid and grim businesscolt facade he once wore, in favor of a certain amount of... showcoltship. "I want to welcome everypony..." Royal grinned wide and waited for it. "EVERYBODY!!!" Loud and excited laughter vibrated the walls. They loved doing that. It never got old. Golden had even arranged for prizes - bits were nothing to him, after all - for anypony that could catch Royal dropping in the word 'anypony' that the crowd missed. The prizes had gotten increasingly valuable, too - last week some third cousin of Honeybutter had won a Bevelmiter Tube powered refrigerator. It didn't use original Bevelmiter's, of course, but the thaumatic engine inside was a beautiful replica. The fridge had even been designed in the style of the time, quite the collector's piece. As a result, Royal had needed to step up his game, and much of his week was spent planning when and how he might drop in the odd 'everypony'. It was an important responsibility. It made for such excitement! "... to the... what is it now, sixth?" Royal turned to Chair, who had become the official recorder for the meetings. His wife, Honeybutter was treasurer. The meetings cost two bits to attend now, they were saving up to rent a larger hall. "Yeah, sixth meeting. Wow, what a crowd tonight, too, huh?" Chair turned to his foals "Havin' fun?" Daisy Dew and Wildweed shouted "ICE CREAM!" Which brought more than a few chuckles from the throng. It was a big crowd tonight. Royal could not recognize most of the faces at all. There seemed to be a few of the Canterlot elite mixed in, but he couldn't be sure. Was that... Fancy Pants? No, couldn't be. He certainly wasn't a Newfoal! And who was that mysterious dark blue unicorn covered in an embroidered cloak? She had to be somepony of status. She definitely had an attendant, a lime green earthpony who looked like a maid. And off in the very back was what could easily have been Royal Guard, off duty. That or body-builders. How many of them were Newfoals anymore? How many even KNEW any Newfoals? Royal tugged at his brand new collar and necktie. He had found a shop on the second tier that made incredibly human-styled collar-and-necktie adornments. They were one piece, and snapped in the back, but they were just what he had wanted. Apparently the fashion had caught on thanks to the Newfoal emigration and the influence of some medical pony, a Newfoal doctor who favored the look. "We have something special, for tonight!" Royal stomped his hoof down loudly. The poor podium had gotten a dent in it from all the banging. "Chair is going to do a new version of his original Newfoal Complaint, this time set to music. Accompanying him is his wife, Honeybutter, in a very special duet. Give a big Canterlot Clop for CHAIR AND HONEYBUTTER! - but first, our MOTTO!" Sweet Luna, how Royal loved all of this. In the corner, the five-piece band started up. The motto had been put to music. "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation, To denounce the evils of ponification..." As the entire crowd sang, Royal gazed contentedly out at them. No meeting back on Earth had ever been like this. He had to face it, he realized. There was no way around it. He had wanted back the feeling of being the head of something important, of running an organization, of talking at a podium to men in suits who hung on his every word. But this was better. Oh, sweet Celestia... this was better. When the motto was done, cheers, hoots and hollers filled the air. The band took a bow, and sat down again, preparing for Chair and Honeybutter's performance. The crowd seemed to love doing the motto. Golden's butler Bitsworth had outdone himself. Royal gave a nod and a hoof wave to Bitsworth, busy attending Golden. Bitsworth gave a slight, professional smile and nod back. He took his butling seriously. The lights dimmed, thanks to the covers that had been installed by a couple of clever unicorns that were... somehow... related to Thunder Road. Spotlights, another recent addition, focused on the couple, now standing in front of the podium. The light jiggled for a moment as one of the lighting pegasai shook the spot so that the lightsprite fireflies inside would wake and turn up the lumens they produced. The packed crowd fell silent as the music began. Daisy Dew and Wildweed looked on in blatant awe at their parents. Chair began to sing, his voice remarkably mellifluous, despite a strangely charming growly edge. (Sung to the tune of 'Winter Wrap Up') [Chair] Three ounces poured upon me And suddenly I'm changed [Honeybutter] I've kept my hoovsies warm at home Until the day you came [Chair] Now the human life I've always known has completely been destroyed [Honeybutter] And though they say you're a Newfoal At least you're well employed [Chair] It's just no use denying things I've traded hooves for hands But it's also time to say goodbye To Earth and all it's lands What can I do? I'm stuck, you see What does everypony do? How do I fit in without fingers? I haven't got a clue! [Choir] Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! The PER splashed me right in my rear Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! [Chair] Now your stallion Chair - [Honeybutter] –is here! [Choir] Now your stallion Chair is here! [Honeybutter] I know you lost your gripping parts Your bipedal gait is through And all your wicked human ways Must change to something new No more floozies, No more credits just gold [Honeybutter and Chair] But when I met you - On being pony I'm sold! [Choir] Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! The PER splashed me right in my rear Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! Now your stallion Chair is here! Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! Now your stallion Chair is here! Now your stallion Chair is here! At the end of the song, the mahogany unicorn stallion and the pale yellow earthpony mare kissed, slowly and romantically, then turned again to the crowd, and bowed. The two weeks of rehearsals had paid off, for the crowd went wild, hoots and hollers being supplanted entirely with deafening stomping of hooves and loud, joyous cheers. The applause went on for some time, and it was everything that Royal could do to regain control of the proceedings, even after two more bows and a reprise of the chorus by the choir. Banging furiously with his hooves, Royal finally regained the attention of the crowd. "Really fantastic, there, Chair, Honeybutter! Wonderful, wonderful!" The two foals in the front beamed at their parents, who had just become royalty in their eyes. As the happy family snuggled together, Royal gave a big smile and tossed his golden mane. "Now every..." An unknown number of eyes suddenly locked onto the podium, glistening in the low lights, every one of them silent, alert, waiting. "...one here can..." An audible soft groan of disappointment rippled through the audience. "...understand something of our plight, as Newfoals, thanks to our own talented Chair and his wife Honeybutter." Chair shifted his rear hooves, putting the weight on one and then the other. It always started to hurt, especially in his flanks, standing unnaturally on his hind legs for so long. "All of us..." Royal seriously doubted that even ten percent of the crowd was Newfoals, but... what the hay, "know the horror of being suddenly taken unawares, in the middle of the street, in our sweatshops, in our workgangs, even in our CORPORATE OFFICES..." Royal stressed the last, because the poor never seemed to appreciate that those in power were equally victims, and always had been "...and suddenly forced into fresh new bodies, long of limb and lifespan both, filled with unexpected powers and infinite potentials, only to be dragged away and thrown like so many sacks of juicy, perfect apples, into the luscious and unutterably beautiful expanses of these green and bountiful lands called Equestria! Why it's a crying SHAME!" Well rehearsed, the audience erupted in loud boos and cries for "JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE!" Royal tried to remain serious, but a grin played about his muzzle. "Surely everyone can see the..." Another round of soft groans of disappointment circled the room. "... dire nature of this insult to our very humanity, an insult nobody can bear, that anyone should be able to sympathize with, that EVERY..." "EVERYBODY!" shouted Bucket "EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY!" Bucket really wanted a refrigerator. Or any appliance. He'd just like to win, anything, even once. "... ONE..." It was a silence as profound as that of the infinite void of intergalactic space back in the old universe, a dark silence just as starlit, only not by burning suns, but by countless glaring, perfect eyes, shining in the lamplight. Bucket looked down. Way down. If he could have looked under the meeting hall floor boards, his head would be in the soil right now. "... can surely comprehend." Royal happily straightened his new tie and collar. What a great fashion accessory! "But understanding our plight as Newfoals is only the first step. We need to take this to the top, and everypony needs to help in that cause. Together we can make even Celestia herself come to heel, and give us WHAT WE DESERVE!" "Everybody." It was a small voice, somewhere in the back, speaking in the momentary silence after Royal's pronouncement. All the faces in the room turned anxiously to follow it. "Everybody!" the tiny voice repeated. It was a small pinto pony foal, with a clear Trottingham accent. "You said 'everypony' and I caught you." The little foal shifted nervously, frightened but determined. "So... 'everybody', fair and square!" "WE HAVE A WINNER!" Royal slammed the battered podium with his somewhat scuffed hooves. "WHAT DO WE HAVE FOR OUR WINNER TONIGHT - GOLDEN SHOWERS, TAKE IT AWAY!" This was Golden's favorite moment. He looked forward to it every meeting, though it didn't happen every meeting. When it did happen, he was filled with such excitement he could barely stand it. Bitsworth helped the portly pony to stand up from his castle of silk pillows. In his haste to rise, Golden accidentally knocked over his tray of cheese and flower pastries. "A WINNER! HOW WONDERFUL!" Bitsworth steadied his employer. "W-what it is your name, my good colt?" The pinto pony blushed at this, he was hardly a colt yet, but it certainly felt very grown-up to be called such. "Pipsqueak, sir! But you can call me Pip! If you want, of course." The crowd softly D'awwwed at this. He really was a little cutie. "Well, Pip, my lad, for your OUTSTANDING catch of tonight's ANTI-HUMANISM, I am PROUD to present to you...." The band knew to do a dramatic drum roll, which they performed with gusto. Golden had waved his hooves high in dramatic gestures, finally pointing to the front left corner of the room, behind and to the side of the podium, where the spotlight pegasai were even now focusing their beams. There, in the corner, was a fabulous velvet curtain of deepest crimson, and everypony there knew what it was for. The drumroll came to a climax. The curtain parted. "A SOLID SILVER DUNG CART!" Oohs and aahs filled the room as Pip's eyes grew as large as dinner plates. Well, larger. It wasn't a full size cart, of course - it was a replica model, only a hoof high by two hooves long. It stood on a black velvet draped platform, sparkling in the light. From somewhere in the room a voice remarkably like Bucket's could be heard apparently having a fit of some kind. "This marvelously ironic work of art comes from the skilled hooves and horn of the master unicorn sculptor August Roandin, and is made from utterly pure, magic-cast draconic silver. The cart wheels are set with diamonds, and the 'load' the cart is carrying consists of spherically carved emeralds - how's that for a game of marbles, my fine colt?" Golden Showers was in his new element now, finding ten times the pleasure from it that he had once gained berating and belittling human underlings in his old life. In this moment, Golden felt like Princess Celestia herself, raising the sun for others, bringing life and light into their lives, and it felt good. Pipsqueak stepped nervously forward, unsure of what to make of the amazing prize. The diamonds were not worth much, of course, they could be found easily in the deserts of Equestria. But silver was another matter, and Pip was bright enough to understand that silver worked into art was worth even more, even if he couldn't understand exactly why. "What's it for?" Golden laughed. "It's for pretty, Pip my pony, and worth more than a pretty penny as well!" Golden saw the perplexed look on the foal's muzzle, and remembered that Equestria didn't use pennies. He couldn't imagine what the colt must be thinking. Quickly he corrected himself "It's worth a fortune, Pip, and now it is yours. Put it in your mansion, and enjoy the delicious irony! It's a dung cart... made out of silver!" This brought huge laughs from the audience, though one voice groaned and growled bakery pastry epithets in the back. Pip just stared at the strange thing. "I don't have a mansion. I live in a little cottage with my..." he was cut off by the mysterious dark blue unicorn in the embroidered cloak and cape. She offered to purchase the little cart from him, for enough bits to assure his future. As the two walked into the dark and the crowd, Pip could be heard saying "Wow! You're always my favoritest..." The crowd closed around them to stare and gawk at the beautiful sculpture. Golden beamed at the attention his latest prize was gathering. This was the best fun ever. Once the fuss had finished over the prize of the evening, Royal once again reared up and pounded the podium. He liked pounding the podium, even if it did look a little worse for wear from his vigorous efforts. Somehow it was just satisfying. CLOP! CLOP! CLOP! The crowd came to attention. "It seems we've run a bit long on time... again..." Royal happily fiddled with his collar-tie "...But we at least have time for our little tradition!" All the ponies in the audience cheered, they knew what was up. "When we think of that castle, high up on the mountain, above all the tiers, the castle that holds She Who Is To Blame, WHAT DO WE SAY?" The crowd giggled nervously. Dare they? Could they just say it out loud like that? Just demand it like that? "Come on... it's why we are here, after all! Don't be shy now...." Royal waited, patiently, the great leader of the new order, marshaling his troops. "Ready? As one now! On three!" The assembled ponies glanced nervously, expectantly around. "One!" The ponies couldn't help but send out a few excited whinnies. "Two!" The voice that had sounded like Bucket had never stopped grumbling. It grumbled still. "ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!!!" Great whoops and cheers threatened to burst the walls as the ice cream trolleys were pushed by Golden's three butlers up and down through the crowd of thrilled ponies. Instead of the usual scoops and cones were tall ice cream cakes with ice cream frosting and rosettes made of sculptured ice cream topped with cherries. The slices were gobbled with delight and satisfaction! Royal had been teasing them at the beginning... it wasn't ice cream - it was ICE CREAM CAKE! Little Daisy Dew once again put it best - "This rebel-fo-lution keeps getting BETTER AND BETTER!" This time she buried her muzzle in chocolate with cherries mixed in. 5. Is statue? It IS you! I thought it was you!Special credits: song selection and lyrics in collaboration with my spouse Aedina.The Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance5. Is statue? It IS you! I thought it was you! Royal followed behind the princess, his hooves tromping softly in the dew drenched night grass. The moon was high in the starlit sky, he found himself surprised to see the princess of the sun during the night. Somehow, he had just expected the two princesses would hoof things off to each other, one sleeping during the day, the other at night, and only being around each other during twilight or morning. Then again, Celestia was rumored to be far, far more than merely an exceptionally large and possibly immortal pony. Walking behind the princess, in the night, was a very intimidating experience. Royal, in his earthly life, had seen images of Celestia in his holoset, on screens, at kiosks and he had wondered about her curious mane and tail, seemingly solid, clearly not made of hair, perpetually waving like a flag in some wind only She could feel. The reality, in front of him, was difficult to look at. Celestia's mane and tail glowed with the light of dawn and sunset combined, rich colors shining off the grass, making the dew sparkle like diamonds of light. He had been drawn to stare into her tail - he was a four-foot tall pony, and Celestia's head had been measured at above eight feet - and found himself frozen in place. His vision passed through the apparent surface of the princess's tail, into infinity, as if he were looking into some distant, ethereal sky. It was not like some holographic trick, he could practically feel summer breezes flowing through that endless space and his mind failed him, trying to interpret what he was really looking at. Celestia had seemed to sense his state, and had stopped and turned her head back, to give him a comforting smile. "Come along, my little pony. It is not far now." Her gentle words, kind and sweet, had calmed him almost immediately, and he found himself plodding along, leaving little indents in the damp ground from the weight of his passing. He had already noticed that Celestia herself, left no hoofprints at all. When he looked up again, he found he was not anywhere near the small greensward that she had led him to, the little park across from Starswirl Hall, but instead found that they were passing through the Royal Maze Gardens. He did not remember walking the long distance up the terraces, through the tunnels carved into the mountain, and finally past the gates of the castle itself at all. They were just somehow... there, in the great garden outside the Royal Maze, as though the lower terrace green was directly connected to the top of the mountain in some impossible way. The hairs of his withers stood tall, an eerie feeling within him. They were passing now through a small forest of statues, each magnificently carved in exquisitely perfect detail. Royal dimly remembered a story that Hot Topic had told him, that there was a rumor that the statues were not truly statues at all, but ancient enemies of the crown and political problems silenced by being turned to stone. In that moment fear gripped Royal's heart as the name of the organization he founded sounded loudly in his mind - RADWICKINS, The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society. 'Down With Celestia', it was right on the marquee, it was on every show program. He mocked the solar princess every performance. "This way, my little pony - I need to address something I have let go on too long." Celestia's voice was sweet as ever, but Royal's blood ran cold in his Newfoal veins. He found his legs weak under him. Ponies didn't kill, ponies never killed - Royal repeated the phrase over and over like a mantra of protection. Ponies didn't kill - but Celestia wasn't properly a pony, was she? She was something else, something far different than a mere pony. What if Topic had been right, what if the rumor was true - being turned to stone wasn't exactly like being killed. It was bloodless, silent, quiet. It could be reversed, Royal had heard of that once. Maybe to the pony mind, being turned to stone was a little excuse, a kind of soft-murder that didn't actually kill so that made it all right somehow... 'Down With Celestia' - could he have been any more blatant? Stupid, stupid, stupid... "Are you all right?" Celestia had stopped. Royal had nearly run into her, barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with that shimmering, glowing tail - or more likely, stepping through it to fall forever in some endless, aching void of light and color. The thought made him feel queasy. Royal stepped back and instinctively looked into the eyes of the princess addressing him. That was a mistake. The last of his courage failed him against that unearthly, agelessly placid face, and devoid of restraint, he involuntarily lost control of his bladder. Royal was shaking now, ashamed and terrified, the smell of his own wet rising from the steaming ground. He could not help it, his legs trembling wildly, he began to cry. Large tears slid down his dark purple muzzle and fell upon the close-cropped grass. He felt warmth along his neck and shoulder and barrel. Then it was across his back, melting his raised withers. Celestia was comforting him, her long, elegant neck and perfect head gently stroking him, nuzzling him. The smell of his shame had somehow vanished, the steaming grass cool again. Around them the night was replaced with soft blue, coral and teal sky, Celestia's mane, forever rippling in whatever wind buffets the immortal. Royal relaxed, and felt his courage and strength return. "I am terribly sorry, I really am. I let this... whimsy... on my part go entirely too far. No, my little pony, I am not here to silence you, I am not here to turn you to stone, or any of the other terrible things you have been thinking." Could she read his mind? Or had she simply lived so long that his thoughts were as predictable to her as the rising of the sun... which she... controlled. The princess pulled away, leaving Royal standing perplexed in the moonlight. When she had embraced him, it had felt like sunshine and comfort and love. In that moment he had been a foal, and she his mother, making the world all right. The intensity of that feeling echoed within him, lending him ease and comfort. Royal could now take stock of his surroundings, and he noticed that they were in a far corner of the garden, away from the Maze, and surrounded by statues. All were of ponies, some bore flags, one a horn. Another statue to Royal's side held a long scroll that rolled down from the hooves that held it. Directly in front of him was the statue of a mare, rearing up on hind legs, her hooves on a rough stone pillar. On the crude pillar was a flat, wide, rectangular capstone, and upon that was a rounded stone. She had one hoof upon the stone and her other hoof was raised high. She appeared to be in the middle of speaking, her mouth open, her eyes determined and wide. "That is The Lady Soliloquy, one of the very first six baronesses of the very first age of Equestria. She lived in the year 53 After Discord, in the very first century of Harmony. In those days, the world you now know was still being... arranged... and life was difficult for all of my ponies. She was a good leader and a better speaker with more than a flair for the dramatic and the captivating. She had a magic about her, one that could sway those that heard her deeply. Among that early peerage, Lady Soliloquy was... without peer." Celestia gave a faint smile at her little jest. Royal stood still as a statue himself, completely unsure what, if anything, to say. "Life was hard in those early times, little one. The land was not yet the green splendor you see today. The sky was not entirely settled, there were disputes about the purpose of night... suffice it to say there was dissension that would be unthinkable today." Celestia seemed sad now, a wave of sorrow passing over her muzzle. Like a cloud under the hoof of a pegasus, it vanished, replaced once more by implacable calm. "You cannot fully understand those times, for it was not entirely the same world. Soliloquy served the crown well, but over time her love of the ponies she cared for overwhelmed her fealty to... me. Her dissent was not without some validity, but it could not be tolerated. Life in that time was far too fragile and precarious to suffer any disagreement - it was often the case that the ponies merely surviving another day could be counted a triumph. It was not possible for demands or complaints to be heard. In tending to minor injustices, the entire world could have been lost." Celestia stared deeply at Royal, and some of his previous unease returned. "A ruler must rule, little one, and there are decisions that must be made for the good of all that are not easy, and which do not offer a pleasant sleep afterwards. Do you understand?" To Royal, in that moment, it did not matter one bit whether or not he could understand. He nodded, respectfully. "We now live in very different times, and in this age it is prudent to allow such latitude as we could never have permitted before. With the Newfoals, like you, have come changes to Equestrian culture. Your culture and yourselves must be integrated into Equestria, so that Harmony can continue for all. Where there has been resentment or mistrust of Newfoals, your irreverence has won support and adoration. In mocking me, you have assured the acceptance of your kind. You have done what I myself could not. I am grateful." Celestia smiled warmly at Royal, leaving him utterly stunned. The princess of the sun next gazed upon the open-mouthed statue. She laughed, softly, gently. "In her time, the Lady Soliloquy was the biggest thorn in my flank! She nearly brought the entirety of ponydom to utter ruin, because she yearned for freedoms and luxuries that literally could not be afforded at the time. Had I not acted, my little ponies would have starved and perished for the pursuit of her views, such was her influence in that harsh time. There was not a thing wrong with her demands - they were just inappropriate for their time." "Royal -" Celestia once again looked down upon the nervous stallion "The Lady Soliloquy is no longer a baroness - all that she once held has turned to dust. In this age, she is just a pony, no more a peer than you, yourself. She is no less remarkable for her loss of station, though. She is brash, bright, immensely frustrating, funny and often unwise. She is poetry and song and prose that cannot be ignored. Her voice can spellbind the masses and her words can warm even the coldest heart. It is no exaggeration to say that she is one of the greatest talents Equestria has ever produced, and so very early in its history, too." Royal looked over the ancient stone form, an elegant mare frozen for almost a millennium in an impassioned pose. "I think you will find miss Soliloquy the most infuriating, brilliant and valuable member of your very important and needed troupe. It is our wish for you to take her in, help her adjust to this new Equestria, show her kindness and friendship, and above all, assist her to realize her great talent, now that the world is finally ready for one such as her to shine. Know this, my little pony - we never forget, we never destroy, and we ever seek justice. It is right that our precious Soliloquy finally know that abundance which she once yearned for with such magnificent ferocity." With that, Celestia's horn began to glow, bright and golden as her glorious sun. Royal stared, agape in awe as the statue before him gained a shimmering aura, the arcane light spilling out across the damp grass. Royal's eye was drawn to the tip of the statue's raised hoof, where the stone was rapidly changing color, turning from the hard gray of stone, to the vibrant hues of a living pony. A pony that would soon draw breath for the very first time in just over nine hundred years. When Royal had first introduced Soliloquy to the RADWICKINS troupe, she had looked briefly them all over, marched directly to the planning desk and stared at the rectangular objects that covered it. She had seen ponies before in her life, they could wait - she was used to having others wait for her. The objects were what was of interest. "This... we demand the purpose of this one!" It was Bucket's prompt book, which left several of the cast in shock - apparently there had been no books in Soliloquy's time. She had just come to understand that books were stored knowledge, and therefore represented power. Royal had been working to teach her to read, but it had been slow going initially - he barely understood how to read the commonplace writing of the earthponies himself, and there were two other forms of writing in use he knew nothing of yet. The lack of familiarity with books in no way hampered the latest addition to the RADWICKINS troupe - perhaps in compensation, Soliloquy's memory was beyond phenomenal, and once something was shown or explained to the pale fuchsia unicorn mare, it became a permanent part of her. As months had passed, Royal ultimately had to accept her teaching him how to read. Soliloquy excelled in every respect, and she was not shy about letting everypony know this fact. Celestia had not exaggerated. Soliloquy was infuriating and utterly brilliant. Within the first days of her release from stone she had almost completely grasped what her world had become. She had gasped at the beauty - in her day, Equestria was little but twisted rock with a churning horror above. Survival depended as much on what fell from the chaos above as from what they could grow from rocks crushed to make soil. When Soliloquy fully grasped the scale of modern Equestrian architecture, she had violently wept - she had lived in a walled cluster of large huts and called it a castle. A bed, for Soliloquy, was a divine luxury - she had slept on a pile of mats laid upon dirt and thought herself royalty for it. But not a bit of this had crushed her indomitable spirit. Where others might have hidden, she stepped forth, demanding always to see more, to learn more. Royal had been run ragged catering to her as she discovered her new world - indeed her new universe - so utterly unfamiliar, so incredibly rich and magnificent. "Our sky was not this sky." Soliloquy was drawn to watching the heavens, and would not miss a sunset or moonrise. "We knew no tranquil void decorated with cloud or star. Above us always was dark, swirling nightmare horrors grinding ceaselessly. Occasionally desire or disgust would drip from above, and bring with it either delight or danger. We see in this new sky such boundless sweetness that our heart can barely embrace it." It was in moments like this, that Royal found himself transfixed - both he and Soliloquy were, in their own ways, refugees from other universes, trying to make sense of the one they had found themselves in. Equestria was as strange for Soliloquy as it had been for him four years ago. She had lived before Equestria was Equestria at all, and in this they both found vast common ground. One thing Royal found he adored about Soliloquy was that she could fight. Modern ponies were, for the most part, a tranquil lot, peaceable and placid. Not so Soliloquy. She awakened in Royal some lost element of human nature, and their screaming, yelling fights, late at night, when the food was not perfect enough, or the rehearsal was flawed, or when she was angry at one of his friends for something she could not fully comprehend thrilled him in some fundamental way. He found himself grateful for her rages, and even sought them out. It quickly became clear that in her day, ponies were a different breed, one not raised in endless peace and plenty. Soliloquy was of a breed that could and did know what it meant to wrestle grim life from ever-waiting death. In some ways, Soliloquy seemed more human to Royal than most converted Newfoals. In her, he discovered he had found the other half of what he had felt missing. He had needed to command attention from an audience - that was a fact. But he also had missed a certain edginess to reality that Equestria profoundly lacked. In Soliloquy he found that in endless measure, and it quickly became clear that she found the same within him. He was the one pony that would yell back. Where others cowered, Royal pounded the tables with his immaculate purple hooves. Where other ponies of this new Equestria fled from her tirades, Royal glared back, as fiercely as a deadly Griffon, as immovable as a mountain. Royal was the only pony she found she could respect in this new world. When it was clear they had become a couple, Thunder Road seemed miffed - she had always had her golden eyes on Royal. Bucket had merely noted that 'Celestia works in mysterious ways', to which Thunder had snorted. "I think Celestia works in obvious ways." With that the crimson pegasus had stomped off in a huff. Bitsworth was in the zone, reading from his sheet into the Bevelmeiter Microphone "...AND SPECIAL MUSICAL GUESTS ZAHQUO AND D. NOTIVE!!!" As the music swelled, two dozen pony performers began to sing - (Sung to the tune of 'Another op'nin', another show' From 'Kiss Me Kate') Another op'nin, it's time to share In Phillydelphia, or Baltimare A chance for New Foals to say hello! Another op'nin of another show. Another gig that we hope will last Will help our foals to respect our past And bring our grievances to the Throne So that the New Foals won't stand alone For months, how we wished we could curse Swore that we could never feel worse Two meek, yes, too frightened and shy Feeling lonely and cold under Luna's sky The friendly overtures that were made Could not help feeling we'd been betrayed We miss our fingers, we miss our toes And that's the reason we give these shows! The lights dimmed and a single, pale fuchsia unicorn, tall and elegant, dressed in an exquisite gown took the spotlight. Her voice was clear and proud as she recited her words, accompanied by the twenty-four piece orchestra playing softly, dramatically in the background. The scene was instantly mesmerizing, and the mare's voice wove itself into the vast theater space like the web of a spider, ensnaring every mind, every soul, catching them in its power. "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation, To denounce the evils of ponification, To demand respect and full restitution, We are The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society! We bring the news of the Newfoal's plight, Celestia respect! or prepare to fight. The RADWICKINS gallop toward what's right!" It was no longer a song. It was no longer a laugh. Suddenly Bitsworth's light poem had become a eulogy for a lost world, and a proclamation of intent. In Soliloquy's intense vocalization, it was almost a prayer. The audience was silent, reflecting on the meaning of the words. In each and every pony heart the magnitude of what had been done, the scale of issue of the Newfoal refugees embedded itself like a dagger. One prominent Canterlot business pony who enjoyed the RADWIKINS shows but refused to ever hire one of those strange, alien Newfoals suddenly found himself sobbing. In his foalhood, he had been picked on because he had been slow and clumsy, despite being sharp of mind. Few foals would play with him. He often felt like an outcast, and that had driven him into financial success. Soliloquy's magic voice had touched his heart, and in but a second, he had realized the Newfoals must truly feel the same way he had felt, as a foal. His shame had overwhelmed him. A pegasus of the Royal Guard, in the audience with his exotic Newfoal marefriend, found himself turning to look, really look, at the earthpony he had been dating. She was not some trophy or whim to show off to his mates in the Guard. Her odd ways as she desperately still tried, after four years, to fit in to an alien, nonhuman culture suddenly did not seem so funny to him. The motto was not the joke it had been the last times he had taken her to it, eager to see how his freak of a marefriend might react. She wasn't a freak. Not one bit. She was a lovely and loving mare, and he realized that he had been hiding from himself how much he really cared about her. Soliloquy's unique talent broke through the narrow-minded, traditionalist disgust within a wealthy upper tier stallion. He had secretly supported a renegade group that had once worked to send Newfoals off to random places in the Exponential Lands. The elite stallion had not been implicated when Celestia had discovered the plot and dealt with the obvious perpetrators. Driven by remorse, he quietly rose from his pillow and excused himself through the packed crowd. Once outside, he walked directly to the quarters of the Royal Guard and began his confession. Midway through, he broke down into tears, begging forgiveness. Loquacity The Garrulous, one of Celestia's trusted Royal Unicorn Corps, the most prestigious mages in all of Equestria, found herself unable to stop hearing "Down with Celestia" in her head. Over and over the phase from the motto repeated itself, hammering within her as shame rose. She had secretly been part of a subversive group of unicorn mages dedicated to researching a means - any means - to overthrow the tyranny of an immortal alicorn government. They believed that the world should be run by unicorns, and that pegasai and earthponies existed only to serve... them. If Celestia could allow this, this open sacrilege, this open mockery of Her to exist... then everything the unicorn mage had worked for in secret was wrong. Celestia was no tyrant. She truly was the loving mother, and all ponies her children. Loquacity broke down, swearing on her magic that in the morning she would report to her princess and disclose everything, every name, every plot, every detail. She was mare enough... to admit her mistake. The silence within the great hall was broken only by occasional sobbing and the sound of a few ponies begging forgiveness for something they had done, or failed to do, for Newfoals beside them. Soliloquy herself, tall neck held high, gazed slowly around the crowded space. Then she briefly lowered her head in a half bow, and walked elegantly from the stage, her gentle hooves inadvertently sounding like drum hits in the dead silence. It took some time for the orchestra to begin to play, and when it did it was not the number the script called for, but, at Bucket's insistence, a slow, gentle piece from Earth, a song called "My Old Kentucky Home." Bucket, in his low, gravelly voice sang the lyrics, and while not one of the native ponies understood the song, or the context of its existence, Bucket himself certainly did, and in any case, the music was somehow just what was needed. Far above, in the left and right Royal Balconies, a midnight blue muzzle hidden inside a rich embroidered cloak looked across at a delicate, pale white muzzle hidden within another, equally splendid cloak and nodded. The pale muzzle quietly nodded back. 6. No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin ManSpecial credits: song selection and lyrics in collaboration with my spouse Aedina.The Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance6. No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man This audience was the largest yet. The Manehattan Royal Equestrian Theatre had been built during an age where Celestia had briefly experimented with permitting advances in physical technology. For eighty years, until it became clear that the land would become ruined, the sky poisoned, and ponies forced to work long hours at thankless jobs, the City of Manehattan had reveled in 'Big'. Big buildings were built, Big streets were laid, Big ambitions rose up, and Big fortunes were made. But the cost had been an entire forest turned to desert, a mountain reduced to a poisoned pit, and skies darkened by soot and grime. Worse, tens of thousands of ponies had ended up wage slaves without futures of their own, while the few grew wealthier and wealthier. Unrest grew and in the end Celestia had needed to intervene, and bring the first and only Equestrian industrial revolution to an end. Manehattan remained, as the skies slowly cleared. The forest never grew back, and the pit that had been a mountain was still filled with sludge. Celestia had left those as a reminder to herself and everypony that magic was enough, and that happiness was more important than ambition. The experiment had not been entirely without benefit, however. Manehattan was now the largest city in Equestria, and had the most impressive architecture outside of Canterlot itself. Of import now, it had the largest theatre in the entire pocket universe, and being a very international city, the most diverse audience. Griffons and the civilized dragons lived and worked in Manhattan, as did the more socially inclined sorts of diamond dogs. Tonight's audience was not just made up of ponies alone. The mare in the front row examined her program. It was exquisitely printed, in full color, and it was rumored that the RADWICKINS had some kind of an in with the Royal Printers in Canterlot itself. She studied the cover in the dim light, as the orchestra tuned their instruments. The text was grandly done in all three pony writing forms - the common earthpony grainscript that every Equestrian knew, but also unicorn glyphs and the cloudsigils used by the pegasai, - and what appeared to be New Draconic and Red Claw Gryphography as well. She had seldom seen so many forms of writing on one document. The stallion next to her leaned over "I was so excited to get us tickets and get inside, I don't even know what the show is tonight. So, what are the ol' RADWICKINS doing for us this evening?" The mare grinned and read out loud "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Farrier" She blinked at her date. "I... don't get it." The stallion shrugged with his ears. "Oh! Of course. I'm sorry. It's... kind of a... take off... on a famous old musical from Earth. It's very funny!" The mare looked down, slightly embarrassed - her knowledge instantly defined her as a Newfoal and not a native. "None of that now!" The stallion gave her a strong and gentle nuzzle. "I won't have my future wife fussing over her past, not when we have a future to build... together." The mare looked up, relieved. She nuzzled her fiance back, and lay her head against his thick, powerful neck. It would be another eight months before her foal was born, but she felt glad that her little one would grow up knowing such a loving and dedicated sire. The great velvet curtain of the Manehattan Royal Equestrian Theatre slowly rose. The lights brightened as the fifty-piece Grand Orchestra began to play the music of old earth. Several dozen ponies on the stage, in costume, sprightly began to sing. (Sung to the tune of 'Comedy Tonight' From 'A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum') "We lost our fingers Now we are singers We got converted and We're hoofing it tonight! No clothes concealing We are revealing All of our tails to you We'll tell'ya of our plight! Humans withdrawn, we'll carry on Now that we're ponies, our world is gone! Earthly origins Been sitting pidgeons For when the potion hit the fan - Equestria tomorrow Humanity tonight! We've been converted Bodies perverted Stallions got lucky but - Humanity tonight! Magic is clever Don't need a lever We laugh at physics now Humanity tonight! We were just pawns, now we eat lawns let's see Celestia dressed in long-johns! This is such feces that we've changed species We've revolution to incite - forget that we're ponies Humanity tonight!" The ponies on stage froze in a magnificent tableau, as the orchestra hit the final note, and the applause, made of stomping hooves, the hard clash of scaly claws, hooting Gryphonic calls and the noisome gibbering of diamond dogs threatened to deafen the very audience that produced it. While the Marketplace Scene brought down the house in laughter beyond the backstage walls, Soliloquy had a very special visitor who had requested to speak with her alone. It was the Royal Wish that something new be presented at the conclusion of the show, something other than the now traditional reading of the Society Motto. "All over Equestria?" Soliloquy sat with folded legs, eyes wide at the thought, mixed emotions filling her heart. She had always been divided inside when dealing with Celestia. Her feelings had become even more complicated over the last two years touring with the company, living a life beyond anything she had dreamed in her day. She was a commoner now, but lived more grandly than she had as a baroness. Around her every aspect of the universe itself mocked her petty rebellion against her creator - in the end, the struggles of her age had permitted the glories of the current one. But she hardly felt punished by seeing her how selfish and petty her complaints had been in retrospect - every day was for her another boundless joy filled with undiscovered pleasures and wonders. Nothing was as strange or curious as the Judgement of Celestia. "It is something I used just after the humans threw every weapon they had at my Barrier. It was very early on. They called it the Three Day War, and they used the very forces of their cosmos to boil the sea and burn their sky to stop Equestria. I appeared shortly after over every city, in every village, inside the most secret of underground complexes and within the fragile metal walls of their orbiting stations. To each in their native language came my voice, and I spoke to them of our intent, of Equestria's beauty, of our gift, and of the danger they faced. It was shortly after that when their world government joined with us to develop the ponification serum." Celestia's face was placid, but her eyes held ancient and unknowable emotion, the strange burden of the all-powerful immortal. "What you mean is that such a well-timed display of power put them in their proper place." Soliloquy studied her princess through half-lidded eyes, faint distaste upon her muzzle. Brash and defiant as always, Celestia noted, and forever straight to the heart of any matter. "Your words will be heard in every part of our universe, Soliloquy. Even and especially to the billions far out in the Exponential Lands. Yours would be the first time in all of history that a single voice has touched so many within Equestria simultaneously. To say this would be historic would be inadequate. Of all ponies, I have chosen you." Celestia was the kind mother now, and if Soliloquy were any other citizen, she would instantly melt into grateful compliance. But she was not any other citizen - she was Soliloquy, first baroness of the first age, one of the first of Celestia's creations to come into being. If any creature could consider itself the immortal princesses 'daughter', it would surely be her. Not that the relationship was in any way acknowledged. "If I refuse to do this for you?" The fuchsia mare studied her foreknees. "Then I will simply do it myself, and it will not be nearly as good, I think. You have a gift, Soliloquy, and this is the age and the moment when that gift can do the most good in the world. I know you care for Royal, and through him his kind. It is not an easy thing to be a refugee in a foreign land. My purpose is to make their lives the better, and all of Equestria the better for embracing them." Soliloquy jerked her head up and studied the princess. "Your purpose is to keep order and integrating the Newfoals matters to you only because it serves that end. Do you even really care what happens for them?" Celestia was not angry at this harsh accusation, rather she appeared wounded by it. "Of course I care, Soliloquy. I care about all of my little ponies, and the dragons and griffons and dogs as well. I care about all my subjects, and I ever seek their benefit. How could you think otherwise?" "I do not doubt you have feeling for others, Celestia." Soliloquy's eyes had not wavered "But I know you in a way no other alive does. I know the Celestia that wailed at the memory of chaos and who suffered nightmares of Discord. I knew a harsh, grim Celestia that struggled for her own sanity even as she struggled to bring order to the universe itself. I have reason to think you would do anything for the sake of order alone, regardless of the cost to others." "It has been a thousand years since I brought you and the first ponies into existence. The land and sky are not the only things that have changed in that time, Soliloquy. Can not the benefit of my subjects and the pursuit of order hope to be the same thing?" Soliloquy knew not to read anything into Celestia's expressions. To look into the alicorn's eyes was to be lost in a house of mirrors. "Hmmph." Soliloquy had known from the first moment Celestia had appeared that she would be doing whatever the princess wanted of her. That did not mean she could not enjoy making the immortal creature work for it a little bit. "Is this task then the real reason that I have been granted life in the world once more?" Celestia never moved her gaze as she spoke "It is one of the reasons, of course. A thousand years ago, you were a problem to me, today, you could well serve my purposes, I would not deny that. With the same directness I tell you that I have ever felt for you, and this age can finally grant you that which you always wanted. Your usefulness to me and your fulfillment as an individual have found equal measure in this time and this place. I have never forgotten you, and I have only wished your happiness. Tell me, my soliloquy, are you... happy?" There was only one truthful answer possible. "Of course I am, princess." The words were accurate, but Soliloquy felt some bitterness in saying them - Celestia would clearly already know that this future Equestria, green and abundant was all she ever had wanted. The only reason for asking was to force her to admit that everything that had happened to her was ultimately to her overwhelming benefit. Was the goddess of an entire universe so insecure that she needed that acknowledged in front of her? "Here is what to say, written by the finest scriptwriters of my court, triple checked for both cultural and species sensitivity, and then run past the entire faculty of the Royal Literary Society for additional clarity and polishing." Celestia had interrupted Soliloquy's pondering "Whatever you do, I am counseled to recommend in the strongest possible way that you should, under no circumstances, ever, in any way, deviate from the provided script by even a single word." Celestia gave her best, practiced smile. "Have fun!" Before Soliloquy could hope to respond, a sphere of supernal light enveloped Celestia and just as quickly shrank to a point hanging in the middle of the air, which then winked out altogether. "Yes, of course, princess. As you wish, princess." Under her breath, Soliloquy added 'see you in tartarus, princess' and couldn't help the grin that came afterwards. Thunder Road was probably the only pegasus in Equestria that sincerely wasn't impressed with the Wonderbolts. They could fly fast, and they could do synchronized maneuvers that went over very successfully at stadium events. But it was easy to wow a crowd with dangerous, high speed action, simply because it was dangerous, and because speed automatically wowed almost all creatures. Thunder was not impressed by speed alone, and while she appreciated the skill of synchronized flying, in the end it all came down to not making mistakes, rather than innovation to her mind. What she valued was inventive precision matched with moment-to-moment inspiration, something that to her could only be found in Aerial Ballet. In her human life, Thunder Road had been an overweight, club-footed girl of nineteen, not the tiniest bit attractive, with great knobby knees that never worked right. She had an endless appreciation for everything she could never be - grace, loveliness, coordination, poise. Thunder had followed the performers of her day, the dancers, the actresses, she had envied such gifted people, even as she was drawn to every detail of their lives. She had wanted to take classes... but her parents would have none of her foolish dreams - they were vanities, and ultimately verging on sin. Her parents had been religious fundamentalists that had seen the emergence of Equestria as nothing less than hell and the temptations of the devil. She and her parents had eventually found themselves crowded together on the eastern coast of the Northamerizone, in Saint John, New Brunswick, freezing in the cold. They, and tens of thousands of others, stood on the rocky coast, backs to the sea, praying to their various gods to save them as the unimaginably vast, shimmering Barrier of Equestria swept inexorably towards them. The Hindus in the crowd begged Ganesha to push the Barrier back, the Christians called on their savior to raise them up, calls to the Buddha and the saints were accompanied with bells and horns, and various other groups made pleas to deities and pantheons that Thunder had never even heard of. All had been united, their mutual enmities forgotten, as they had gathered there, The Coalition Of Faith, to face down the Barrier and save the Earth with a last stand of prayer. Thunder had not seen anyone's god arrive. But she had seen the trucks, huge yellow tanker trucks with the Worldgovernment logo on them, racing ahead of the Barrier. The crowd had panicked, and Thunder never heard completely what the loudspeakers on the trucks were blaring, but it was clear that the regional corporation leaders couldn't just sit by and let thousands die. To them, the Barrier was no different than a hurricane, and those crowded together in Saint John were no different than the usual sorts who refuse to evacuate even after the sirens have clearly sounded. She tried not to bear them ill will, when the streams of potion covered her. She understood they were only doing what they thought was right, even if that work was the delusion of Satan. The last she saw of her mother and father was the two of them drowning themselves in the ocean, along with countless lemming others. When Thunder awoke, she was in Equestria, or to be more accurate, Equestria had come to her. The Barrier had rippled right over her and thousands of others as she dreamed and spoke with the princesses. Upon opening her new eyes, the high-tech towers of Saint John were gone, the city transformed into a lovely village in the pony style. Where the dead, poisoned ocean had been were now endless fields of flowers dotted with blue, pristine lakes. It was in one of those placid waters that she had leaned over and discovered her own reflection. Gone was the ugly, fat, pimply face pitted with acne scars. In its place was a sleek, bright red muzzle, perfect teeth, beautiful eyes and the most gorgeous mane of pale, lemon yellow. It was then she noticed her wings, her angelic, feathered wings, as they spread out wide, expressing her pegasus excitement at what she saw. On the great Manehattan stage, the red pegasus mare flew slowly, with exquisite control, in a vast arc out over the audience. She held her pose, wings frozen, barely moving, as she pushed the air itself around her through the force of her very will. As she reached the stage once more, in time with the music, Thunder Road pulled herself into a tight spin, wings close, falling, falling until catching herself with an audible FWHUMPH as her wings spread wide arresting her drop with a dramatic flare. With the slightest twitch of her pinions, her back hooves alighted, one foreleg held high above her, the other drawn across her barrel as she ever-so-slowly spun in place until finally dropping gracefully down to all fours. There she stood, one wing raised, the other held low, a foreleg artfully curled as the applause swept her emotions away. Tears rolled down her cheeks - this was art, not doing barrel rolls for cider-addled sports fans. This was beauty, and she was beauty, and there were thousands of exquisitely beautiful ponies out there, and all of them were cheering her. It was a perfect moment of bliss, marred by only one thing - if only her parents could have suffered from clubfoot and bad knees too. If only they had been... just a little bit slower. Suddenly, Thunder realized. It all became clear to her. She hadn't been angry at being turned into a Newfoal. That had saved her life. She wasn't really angry at that approaching Barrier, though she thought she had been. She was angry that her parents had thought more of their faith, than of staying with her. When she had been hit by the spray from the trucks, they had turned from her as if she were garbage, and run to their imagined rewards. They had not stayed with their only daughter, they had not chosen her, they had chosen the sea. As the anesthetic took her, her last sight was of them, rushing into the cold, dead Atlantic. The applause very slowly began to die, and as she left the stage, her tears of joy became mixed with tears of other flavors, her heart overflowing with conflicting emotion. It had taken an audience of thousands of ponies to teach her what she should have been able to figure out long ago. She felt triumphant and foolish at the same time. Thunder Road loved being a pegasus. She loved being beautiful, she adored being able to fly, and she thrived on the adulation of those that came to see her art. She wasn't missing her thumbs. She wasn't missing anything, because she had possessed everything she really needed all along. But as angry as she was at her parents betrayal, as furious as she was at them, she grieved that her parents could not have been in that audience, or backstage, waiting for her. "I've been a foal... no, I've just been... hurt.", she thought, as she walked through the congratulations and Bucket's usual "Well done... NEXT!" Joining the Society had, in the end, ultimately helped her with her problems. She just hadn't understood what her problems really were. And there was no fix for the betrayal of a parent except time and love. Suddenly Bucket returned shouting at the crew and cast. Apparently the ending had been changed. By no less than Royal Command. What? Thunder Road tried to understand what was going on, but it was hard with everypony talking and Bucket shouting. Some sort of special piece involving Soliloquy? Wait, that couldn't be right. All over the entirety of the Equestrian cosmos? Thunder found a sheet thrust at her, hastily copied by a weary looking unicorn scribe. It had words to a song. Soliloquy would speak, and then the entire cast, including the crew and stagehands would finish with a song, and all of it sent by the magic of Celestia herself to every living being in the universe. It was one hell of a gig. 7. Life is a Cabaret, old chumSpecial credits: song selection and lyrics in collaboration with my spouse Aedina.The Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance7. Life is a Cabaret, old chum Everypony in Martingale On Hackamore knew him now as 'Dumpy Dungcart'. Dumpy had considered having his coat dyed, but this far out on the borders of Equestria, it was an extra step that would have been too much work to maintain, and ultimately would raise even more suspicions about him. Besides, he was well enough hidden by the fact of his job itself - he was not exactly the center of anypony's attentions, considering his occupation. He was, he felt, perfectly hidden. Nopony could ever find him, or imagine he had once been Bucket, the stage manager for... well, best to just put all of that in the past. He was Dumpy now. Dumpy Dungcart. Dumpy pulled his rickety, heavily burdened cart down the road that ran along the Hackamore river. Martingale was a small village, hardly more than a thousand ponies, very rural and very isolated. They were far to the east, almost to the beginning of the Exponential Lands, but still well within Equestria proper. The ponies of Martingale were very traditional, very old-Equestria, most hadn't a clue what a Newfoal even was. They had seen the Last Performance, of course - every creature in Equestria had seen the Last Performance. There was no escaping it, thanks to the princess. It's hard to miss a show performed in the sky above your head. Fortunately, the show hadn't meant anything to the ponies in Martingale On Hackamore. They had no context, they had no way to comprehend what they had seen. That had been such a relief to Bucket when he had first arrived as 'Dumpy'. Nopony here would take him as anything but native, and so long as he kept to himself, so long as he made no close, intimate connections, he felt sure he would do them no harm. And that was something 'Dumpy' wanted very much - to avoid contaminating these utterly innocent, guileless, native ponies of Martingale. The Last Performance had taught Bucket many things, things he wished he did not have to know. The princesses were deific, if not outright goddesses - he had heard that before, of course, but had not been prepared for the reality. Even with the impossible manes and tails, they seemed so approachable and modest, normally. When they truly used their power... it was one thing to speak of godlike power, and another entirely to be faced with it in reality. There was, he found, a special horror to witnessing such things, even from the most benevolent of beings. Bucket had also learned that such beings could make mistakes. Celestia might be all powerful, she might be all Good, but she certainly could not know the future, and she absolutely did not know everything. Was there a flaw in the ponification serum? Was it the fault of Man, or of the unicorn mages on the Equestrian side? Was it that the spirit of humanity was just too strong? Did Celestia grant the Newfoals too much latitude when they were converted? Bucket had no way to know. He would probably never know. But he did know how to run, and he had run, and now, as best as he could be, he was hidden. If Celestia could not know everything, she could be hidden from. Bucket reckoned that it was just that human nature was irrepressible. But whatever the case, it all meant that the dramatic changes that Newfoals underwent, to mind as well as body, were not as total, not as absolute as he had imagined. Sure, they came out strikingly less aggressive, certainly they had their mental illnesses cured, they ended up happy, well adjusted - for the most part - and Newfoals were incapable of true human hatred or murderous impulses. But it was not enough. That much had been made clear. So very, very clear. Not even close to being enough. 'Dumpy' kept to himself. He deliberately refused the one mare that had taken a shine to him. He stayed alone, which suited most in town just fine, ultimately. Once a week he allowed himself a cider in the little 'pub' - Bucket thought of it as a pub, anyway - and sat in the corner, sipping it. He remained aloof when approached. He felt sure most thought he was just a grumpy loner who preferred his solitude. Inside, Bucket wished he could be part of his community. He wanted to have friends, but... he reckoned that in the end, he would just ruin them. He couldn't taint them, harm them that way. Not after... not after The Last Performance. Dumpy finally reached the large composting pit. It was some distance from the river, and he had to make several trips a day to keep up with things. Martingale had welcomed him, when he had arrived - their last dung hauler had been a donkey that had quit to seek fame and fortune, leaving a hole that needed filling, and piles that needed emptying. If there was one thing Bucket knew, it was nightsoil, and the same day he had arrived, 'Dumpy Dungcart' had found employment and a nice little cottage far, far on the outskirts of the village. The cart needed to be upended, and the contents evacuated. Dumpy adjusted the cart carefully next to the edge of the pit before using a back leg to kick the lever that locked the wheels. With his teeth he quickly undid his bindings and was free from the cart. Putting his weight on his forelegs, he slowly raised his hindquarters and tilted the cart in a sort of slow-motion buck. It was easy to do - most of a pony's weight was in the front, so raising one's rear was almost effortless. With the cart tilted, the contents were already pouring out into the compost pit - pony dung was fairly dry, compact, and cohesive, so the majority rolled out on its own. But it was not enough, regretfully. When all that could be emptied by gravity - or whatever passed for gravity in Equestria - had been emptied, Dumpy leveled the cart bed and locked it down. Then he climbed into the cart, took his rake in mouth, and began sweeping the remaining dung out of his cart. It had never ceased being astonishing to him how easily he could use his mouth like a single, incredibly strong hand. The long jaw, the strong, flat, solid front teeth, the immensely powerful muscles - and a strange, unhuman maxilofacial dexterity. It was trivial to wield the rake, and his long, sinuous neck never tired from the effort of sweeping. What amazed him most, though, was that he never became dizzy from such movement of his head. The others... they had all found such happiness. Well, until the Last Performance, of course. There was no way to know what had become of them. Maybe they were all statues now. Bucket had not stayed to find out. He had run, as soon as he realized. As soon as he had recognized... the song. That blasted last moment song. He was stage manager! They should have run it by him! But he never really had gained their respect. Not really. Royal had gotten to be important again, respected, and ultimately loved. He and Soliloquy had a stormy relationship, but there was no doubting their affinity for each other. They had been talking marriage, before that night, before the Last Performance. Golden and his butler Bitsworth - both had found their calling, their passions in the society. Bitsworth had found an outlet for his voice and his poetry, and Golden had found something better and more fulfilling than corporate predation. It was so clear how much he loved arranging prizes and giving them away. Thunder Road just blossomed as a flyer during her time in the society. She had gone from giving thrill rides through thunderstorms to literally dancing in the air, and the way she glowed and beamed with joy could have given the princess of the sun a run for her bits. Argent and Hot Topic had become the most loving of couples, and their smiles and gentle sweetness with each other had gotten them the nickname the 'Sugar Twins' back stage. Ponies were incapable of earth weaknesses like diabetes, but among the Newfoals who knew of the disease, the joke was that if such an illness did ever come to Equestria, Argent and Topic would have been the cause. They were so happy, it was impossible to feel down in their presence. Chair... Chair, who had started things off with his complaints - he and his wife Honeybutter, they had become singing stars, touring Equestria. Hopefully they still were. They hadn't participated in the song - they had left before that moment, off to a gig on the other side of Manehattan. Probably they were spared anything that might have happened. Probably. Hopefully. Unless Chair had written the song. It was possible. There was no way to know. Dumpy finished sweeping the last lump out of his cart. He carefully replaced the rake into the slot built to hold it. His hooves were a mess, and dung covered his pasterns all the way to his knees. Specks had gotten on his coat elsewhere, too. The saving grace was that disease was all but unknown in Equestria, and what illness there was came mostly from strange magical issues that were fortunately fairly rare. He was dealing in pony waste, but unlike Earth, it was not dangerous. Just unpleasant. Dumpy clambered back down from his cart, and trod around to the front. Strapping himself in, he nudged the lever back down with his back leg to release the wheels. This was the last haul of the day, so it was time to head home, stow the cart, and head to his favorite spot in the river for his first bath. His second, hot bath was something he eagerly looked forward to, but he was not about to use the tub in his cottage until he had first washed the chunks off. The little tan pony pulled his cart back towards the river, away from the compost pit. The wheels rattled as he turned the corner and began following the Hackamore back towards Martingale. It was a good cart, he thought, solid, well built, heavy. A human would be stymied trying to pull such a massive wooden thing, and would require a vehicle. Dumpy was his own vehicle, powerful beyond measure with the almost inexhaustible endurance that was one of the gifts of being an earthpony. As he trotted, pulling the cart as if it were nothing, he could feel the life of the soil itself through his hooves. His magic senses told him that the lush greenery by the road was glad of him and his cart, and the little bits of plant food that fell from it as he passed. He could feel the gratitude of the flowers as he traveled. While ponies may not like his smell, or completely appreciate his work, an entire world of plants and insects sang his praises as he paraded by. He was royalty to them, and he could feel it every step of the way, like a conquering hero, head covered in laurel leaves, charioting down the streets of ancient Rome. The cart came to a stop. Bucket shook his head, his mane sweeping across his back. No. Oh, sweet Celestia, no. It just couldn't be denied. The process was amazing, and he knew that there had been changes to his mentation, to his thoughts, to his emotions but... it was still there. It kept coming back. It had to be memory, the memory of everything he had learned and seen and done on Earth. It kept coming back, the ghost of humanity. Conquering hero. Of all the thoughts to think, of all the notions to entertain. He could have thought he was the providing father to the plants, or the nurturing mother, or even just the best friend of the plants and insects. No. The first thing to enter his brain was 'conquering hero of Rome'. Too many movies, too many holoprograms, too many stories of war and history and Who Was Important. Important to humans. Warriors, emperors, kings... killers, all. Behind every great human empire was an equally great human atrocity. This was real. This was history, and even with the planet gone, and all of humanity converted, it still came back. It still came back in little moments where the mind wandered. It was the curse of Grayback. All primates evolved to follow Grayback, the most powerful ape in the troop. The big leader, with the silver hair that spoke of his age and prowess. That said he had survived and triumphed. It wasn't the call to be part of the herd, it was a call to follow the leader. To serve the commander. Grayback, the eternal Ideal of the Monkey General, the emperor, the president, the king, the CEO, the... chief of the hunter-gatherer tribe. Humans had evolved to follow a Grayback, and when they could not find one, they made one. Ponification had not been one-hundred percent conversion. The Newfoals would never truly be Equestrian, not completely. Their foals could be, innocent of the world their parents came from. But the actual Newfoals... would always be apart. They carried within them the knowledge of kings and empires and what it meant to be an evolved creature instead of a created one. Celestia had been too gutless to do the obvious thing. That he could think that, that he could think to call the princess gutless, was Bucket's pride... and also his horror. It was what condemned him to his self-inflicted solitude. Oh, he could mix in. But ponies were curious. Not so much about the world, like humans, but about each other, about other beings. Ponies wanted to know all about you. They wanted to know your birthday and your likes and your dislikes and your favorite color and every little detail about your life. They wanted to know what you had seen, what you had felt. And in no time at all, they would learn from Bucket all about kings, and empires and what primates did when there was not enough to go around, or worse - when there was never enough to satisfy the desire to live like a god, while others bowed and scraped. He didn't want any part of that. He didn't want to corrupt these innocent, loving creatures. Bucket wanted to forget ever having been a human, he wanted to forget that he even was a Newfoal. He wanted, desperately, to not be around other Newfoals. His hope was to just lose himself in the native herd, literally, totally lose... himself... and go completely native. That was why he had gone so far away, out to distant, barely remembered Martingale On Hackamore, where he felt certain he would be the only Newfoal around. When he had finished washing himself in the river, he had forgotten most of his ruminations, and felt more like Dumpy the native than Bucket the Newfoal. He tried hard to forcibly believe that he had always been a pony. In his head, he had invented a foalhood that never was, and a sire and dam that never were. He pretended to himself that he had enjoyed an innocent life with no knowledge of primates from another world. He willed himself to not be amazed inside at magic, at the beauty of the world, at the incredibly bright pet lightsprite fireflies that lived in his lamps, and that he fed and watered every day. These were normal. These were all he had ever known, he kept telling himself. But it never quite worked. Always, he felt the twinges of awe and wonder at every little thing, and that brought him out of his fantasy of having been born Equestrian. The bath in his home was almost warm enough. The tub was very large, as it must be for an equine, and was heated from below like a big stew kettle. It was the most efficient solution. The logs underneath burned merrily, yet they were never consumed. Once made, and properly enchanted, the logs used for fireplaces and heating burned with supernal fire, the fire of magic itself. It certainly saved on trees. Apparently these logs had been made five centuries ago. They had come with the cottage. Dumpy settled himself into his bath. He had placed around the tiled edges of the tub a few treats. He would eat his dinner in leisure, after the bath. He had a tankard of light cider, and a bowl of sweet flowers. He liked the blue ones best, though the big red flowers were more juicy. He nibbled one of the blue flowers and let the warm, scented waters soak into his coat. He couldn't stop thinking about it tonight. It was probably because it was almost exactly one year ago. One year in the past, the Last Performance of The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society. Almost to the day. The day he had stared in abject horror, and fled. Soliloquy floated, hundreds of hooves high, over every city, every village, every town. Inside the caves of dragons, the burrows of diamond dogs, the aeries of gryphons. Celestia herself had introduced her, and explained the curious transmission. She had explained the story of the Newfoals, where they had come from, and what they had endured, and that they had been transformed. And then, she had brought forth Soliloquy. Soliloquy stood, plain and simple, in no elaborate gown, just as herself. And as Celestia knew she would, she tossed aside the bland, utterly inoffensive, utterly boring prepared speech that the court had devised for her. She knew that Celestia was depending on her to do just that, and part of her almost wanted to defy the princess and actually read her dull address. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. Tweaking Celestia was always fun, but this literally was the opportunity of an entire lifetime. It was so difficult, sometimes, dealing with a truly superior intelligence always ten steps ahead. Somehow it was actually worse, in the long run, that Celestia wasn't smug about it. So Soliloquy began her speech, straight from her heart. She had not prepared, beyond some consideration of what she might say - she felt it got in the way of authenticity. Every word she spoke was made of her special magic, golden, perfect, with a hypnotic cadence that no other creature could hope to duplicate. When Soliloquy spoke from the heart, it went directly into the heart of any who listened. It was her special talent. It was her unique gift. Soliloquy spoke of her origin, of coming into being as an adult, torn from the chaos by Celestia, along with thousands of others. She told of how each was assigned a role, so that they might work together and survive. She described the harsh universe they had found themselves in, and how hard it had been merely to live from one day to the next. And then she described the arrival of the dragons. They themselves were not sure where they had come from, or if their fragmented memories of a previous existence were real, or bits of chaos making them imagine a false history. Even Celestia and Luna had no idea if they had been born from Discord, or if they were refugees from the past, or from another world. But they were there, and all had to live together, somehow. It was a fragile peace that often failed. The dragons were not civilized, not then, though they were highly intelligent. They could eat stone, but they craved meat. Ponies, in those days, vanished sometimes, their disappearances seldom fully explained. But they also needed each other. It took everything both species had to survive not only the incomplete world, but the occasional terrors that fell from the unfinished sky. When the gryphons arrived, fallen from their original cosmos, during a cataclysmic eruption in the chaos overhead - the result of Celestia and Luna trying various methods to alter the sky to make some kind of sense - there was a brief war, followed by a tense peace. Celestia had to make more ponies, for many had vanished and the reason was not mysterious at all. For a long time Celestia had concentrated on making animals and plants while her sister Luna had struggled to keep the three species alive and assisting each other, rather than fighting or eating one another. It would have been easy for the ponies to despise the dragons and the griffons, for they both could eat meat - indeed the griffons desperately required it. But things kept falling from the sky, and many found a home in the one place that the princesses could never affect, the one area their ultimate power could not touch. That terrible zone became a forest, and in that forest the terrors from the sky hid and bided their time. At the center was the ruin of a castle already ancient, the place where Discord had kept his little pets, Luna and Celestia. The very site where they had defeated the tyrant of chaos. Without the griffons to fight, all would have been slaughtered by the nightmare creatures of the forest that could not be tamed. Without the dragons, there could never have been soil to grow the first crops - the harsh rock that was the only ground was too hard for the ponies to do anything with. In those days, Celestia was still learning the machinery of the web of life, but the guts of the dragons solved the problem of living soil for her, and all benefited as a result. Solioquy had since learned that the three founding species had chosen to separate after her time, each to their own region and culture, but her point was clear - all the life of Equestria were refugees of one kind or another. Whether from chaos itself, or from some other universe, Equestria had no true natives, only beings desperate for life, for a home. Finally, she introduced the idea of the Newfoals, refugees no less than any other, as deserving as any other, who now lived within Equestria. Yes, they could be strange. Yes, they could have odd ways and curious means, but they were part of Equestria now. They were home, just as all ponies were home, just as the dragons were home, just as the griffons, and long after her time, the diamond dogs, were home. Home. Equestria was home to all. Her words were diamonds to the dragons, tasty and bright, and meat to the griffons, rare and dripping with fresh blood. Her words were the tenderest shoots of new grasses to the ponies and lovely, fat rabbits to the diamond dogs. The many ate her words up, and licking their chops, felt full of contentment and love, for each other, for Equestria, and for the Newfoals, so recently added. When Solioquy was finished, all of Equestria sighed at her leaving, such was the power of her speech. The vision in the sky, in every domicile, expanded to include the stage with all the performers that were the RADWICKINS. Royal stepped forward, and explained, briefly, what they were, and why they had started, and how they had been wrong. They were proud to be Equestrian, and in working together, they had found what they had lacked, and it was not, as they thought, their old world and lives at all. They had found love, and purpose, and community, and above all, belonging, and in the end, that was all that mattered. They had also found something more, though! Something that had finally, truly touched the human part within them. Something that satisfied that part, the part that would never truly be pony, the unique, humanness within. It had been there, all along, and they had been too blind to see it. But now they saw clearly. So very, very clearly. Celestia had looked puzzled, Bucket recalled, something he had never seen before, despite the many times she had appeared on holo, or the times she had visited their troupe. Celestia had been surprised. At the time, Bucket had wondered how often that ever happened. And that was the moment, in front of all of Equestria, every species, in every home, that the RADWICKINS had stood forth, proudly, the orchestra beginning soft at first. Then the Newfoals began to sing the song they had prepared in secret, filled with passion, filled with devotion, filled with gratitude for feeling human once again: Tomorrow Belongs To Hooves... (Sung to the tune of 'Tomorrow Belongs to Me' From 'Cabaret') The Sun in the morning, the Moon in the night From Canterlot to Everfree Oh Gryphons and Dragons and Dogs delight Equestria's home to thee All ponies together in love and respect The pegasus flies to be free Earthpony and unicorn join in glee Equestria's home to thee We newfoals have found a new life in this land Celestia has opened our eyes In friendship and magic we take our stand To Her our right hooves we rise Now Princess Celestia to You we do bow It's human to follow Your call In Equestria as we once claimed of Earth Equestria First, Equestria Best, Equestria Over All!!! Bucket had begun running, away from backstage, the last of the song fading with distance in his ears. He ran and ran, then took the train, and ran some more. He took a boat, always glancing back, worried, but no approach sounded. When he reached the opposite shore he ran again, and ran and ran and ran. Eventually he reached the last native eastern village before the beginning of the newly created Exponential Lands. Somewhere, in those new lands eight billion Newfoals now lived, but they were far from him. He took the name Dumpy Dungcart and was gladly welcomed as the new Dungmaster of Martingale On Hackamore. For months he kept expecting a burst of light and gold-shod hooves, but they never came. The curse of Grayback. Celestia had tried, her collage of unicorn mages had tried. Everypony had tried, but it just hadn't worked. Not completely. Not one-hundred percent. To do that, she would have needed to erase even memory, and she was too gutless to do that. Her kindness would be the undoing of her ponies one day, Bucket felt sure of that. And that would be such a sad, terrible thing. Bucket felt waterlogged, and he hungered for his simple dinner. He climbed from the water, and took his towel to his coat. If he had been in charge, he would have made sure that potion erased all memory, maybe right after the end of the Earth. He would have made sure that no trace of humanity survived. He understood that this was necessary, because he understood that assimilation must be complete, lest a society end up divided into ghettos and barrios and reservations and walled off areas. Bucket understood that, because he understood conquest in a way that even the all-powerful sun goddess was incapable of. He understood, because he had once been human, and he remembered his human life and his human world, and so long as that memory remained, despite his body and brain being utterly changed, a small part of him - and of every Newfoal - would remain irrevocably human still. 8. Trouble right here in River CityThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance8. Trouble right here in River City Dumpy Dungcart sat sipping his cider in the shadowy back corner of Saltlick's General Refreshetorium And Sometimes Inn. The quaint and curious name notwithstanding, the place was basically a pub, at least as far as Dumpy was concerned. Old Saltlick sold cider and salt - which had a curious intoxicating effect on Equestrians when ingested beyond reasonable amounts - as well as various simple snacks. There were games for ponies to play, and places to sit. It was a pub in every way except what the natives of Martingale On Hackamore called it. It was an early Celestday evening, Luna's perfect moon had just risen. Dumpy had enjoyed his usual two baths, the indoor one, as usual, performed with a liberal helping of the sweet-smelling bath powder that he made use of on his one 'social' day at the pub. Not that Dumpy was social, as such, of course. He sat in the back, refused to talk, and had been gradually accepted as the quiet pony that comes on Celestdays and doesn't like to be bothered. Equestrians were a gregarious sort, generally, but they could be trained to leave a pony alone. Nutbrown, a farm stallion from the north quarter of Martingale, was playing a shuffleboard-like game with his old friend Two Nails the blacksmith - Two Nails was winning, currently, and grinning widely for the joy of it. Stonebridge - despite the name a carpenter - was gently arguing as was his usual with Sackbarrel, the owner of the Martingale General Store, something about how unicorns couldn't be good blacksmiths because they never set hoof on metal, and they didn't have an earthpony's way with stuff from the ground. Sackbarrel, a unicorn, was having none of this and was just shy of calling the heavy-built metalworker a breedist. It was likely that Old Saltlick would have to step in and settle the pair down with a scolding and a free pint each to make up for it - which was exactly what the two clever friends pretended to argue for in the first place. They were a devious pair, for ponies at least, and Dumpy had heard many tales of the dubious misadventures of their youth. Dumpy had come to know just about everything about every pony in Martingale On Hackamore - he had come to the conclusion that he probably knew more about every citizen than they knew about themselves, much less each other. Dumpy didn't mingle, and he didn't mix, he just listened. All that listening had brought him the heart and the soul and the drama of his small village in a way that likely no other pony ever had. Sometimes, he even intervened, when he felt he needed to - like the time that Glade Blossom had thought Stormy didn't like her anymore because he had up and flown away and was gone for three months and she was beside herself and ready to marry Cornhusk out of grief. She didn't love Cornhusk - Hay, she didn't even particularly like the pushy stallion. Dumpy had written an anonymous letter telling her Stormy's big secret - that he had gone off to get a temporary high-pay job so he could buy her a proper hoofband. Stormy was intending to propose to Glade and... he really should have said something, anything, before he left, the silly pegasus. Glade was all cheered up the next day and willing to wait for the one she loved, and she never let on about the note, which allowed Stormy his Big Surprise. They were expecting their first foal in a few months. Sometimes, Dumpy felt like a gardener, more than a dungcart draftpony - Martingale was his garden, and all the ponies in it his precious, beautiful flowers, each and every one of them. It had been almost fifteen years since Dumpy had showed up one day in Martingale On Hackamore and ended up as a nightsoil technician. Dumpy chuckled, softly, into his cider at that one. That's what they would have called it back on earth. Chief Nightsoil Technician and Compost Development Specialist. Sweet Luna, but those humans had been a pretentious lot. Huh! That caught Dumpy, and he stared intently at the golden cider in his tankard. A tiny bubble popped on the surface. Those humans. Those. Those humans. He no longer thought of himself as a Newfoal. He really didn't. How odd! He was just... a pony. A pony in a pub, even though they didn't call it that. And thinking such a thing - that the locals didn't call their pub a pub, that didn't make him feel like some weird, transformed ape from another universe anymore. He was just a pony, who had come from outside, and become part of the community, and... it was no big deal that he had some notions that weren't local. That was just natural. Having once been a different species didn't enter into it any longer. Somehow, in those fifteen years, he'd just... settled in. Accepted himself a might. Of course... he understood he didn't dare mix, that was a given, but... at least he didn't see himself as a freak of Conversion anymore. Not like he did. He knew he carried ideas and notions inside him he didn't want hurting these native ponies but that was somehow distant now. It was a promise he kept to himself, a noble act he thought, but he wasn't consumed with shame anymore. He just did it, because it needed to be done, and that was that, and it didn't make him less of an Equestrian because of it. Dumpy smiled at this. It was a pleasant realization. He belonged here, he was a proper citizen, of both Equestria and Martingale, even if he was a quiet one. And he was a proper pony. It felt good. Watercress burst in through the swinging doors - this is such a hoofing pub, thought Dumpy - carrying a flyer in her mouth. Watercress was a young unicorn mare who had almost no talent for magic at all. She couldn't lift a thing with her horn - though she did have the most extraordinary sense of things. She could tell who would walk through the door next, find a lost piece of jewelry without effort, and made the most astonishing predictions that almost always came true. It was like she had some other magic about her, even if she had to do everything like an earthpony otherwise. Everypony in town favored her - she was a cutie, and ever filled with wonder and excitement about everything. "Ith a thow! A thow ith comfin to thown! ITH A THOW! A THOW!!!" Old Saltlick came around from behind the counter - bar, thought Dumpy - and got Watercress to calm down and give him the paper sheet in her mouth, so that she could speak clearly. "There's a big show and it's comin' to town and it's gonna be all wow and everything! It's comin' to town! And it's big, I mean really big!" Watercress was particularly excited today. "A show! And it's comin'!" "Which town, Watercress? How far away is this show?" Nutbrown still had a hoof on the smooth disk he was about to give a push to. He had pulled ahead in the scoring, he could win with this slide. "What kind'a show is it, anyways?" Sackbarrel nudged his clever friend Stonebridge "Is it one of them dress-up shows, where they put on socks and parade around?" "You behave yourself, there Sacks, or I'll make you pay for your cider after all." Saltlick had been on to the pair for years, so it was a meaningful threat. Sackbarrel made the effort to look properly contrite. It wasn't authentic, but it was something at least. Good enough, thought Saltlick. "Here, I'll tell ya, what kinda show Watercress is goin' on about. It's in the flyer she brought. Les' see now..." "It's a variety show! They have dancing and singing and dancing bunnies and singing birds and singing ponies and dancing ponies - but no dancing birds. I wonder why birds don't dance?" Watercress was bouncing on her hooves. "She's right, it's called the Happy Pony Show, and they've got all that and more, it seems." Saltlick studied the sheet, clearly ripped from the village noticeboard. "They're doin' a tour of... pretty much all of Equestria. Seems this thing has been goin' on for nigh on a decade now. Well, how about that? It's just gotten bigger and bigger over the years and... well, if that don't beat all!" Old Saltlick drifted off, studying the fine print at the bottom. "What don't beat all? Ya can't leave us in suspense, Salt! Out with it!" Two Nails had entirely forgotten Equestrian Shuffleboard now, and had moved with the rest to cluster around the edge of the counter. "It's comin' here all right." Saltlick seemed surprised. "No doubt about it. Right here. As in it's comin' to Martingale!" "Wait, here-here?" Nutbrown seemed incredulous "As in here... here... right here? Martingale On the hoofin' Hackamore here?" "Eeyup! We're gettin' ourselves a right proper show, right here, in Martingale." Saltlick looked around at the stunned faces. "Sumptin' ain't it?" "I told you! I told you!" Watercress was trying to muscle in between Nutbrown and Two Nails to see the flyer on the counter again "I said, 'we're getting a show' and guess what? We're getting a show, just like I said! Isn't it awesome!" "I don't rightly know, tell the truth. Just what kind of acts are in this thing, and I don't just mean birds tweetin'!" Sackbarrel wasn't an easily impressed stallion. "Any famous names on that little sheet?" "What, you actually know any famous names there Sackbarrel?" Two Nails had always been just a little jealous that Sackbarrel had gotten to go to school the next county over. Sacks was sometimes a little too proud of the fact, Dumpy had noted. "Yes, I know a few names, on with it, Saltlick, or let me read the foundering thing myself!" The air had become thick with tension at this singular event. As far as Dumpy had been able to learn, nothing ever happened to Martingale On Hackamore, ever. Not ever. A show, any kind of show, was a once in... forever... event. "Alright, alright, keep your tail down. Actin' like a bunch'a pink-winkin' first-heat fillies the lot of ya!" It was then that Saltlick suddenly remembered the presence of young Watercress, who had brought the note in the first place. Saltlick looked ashamed "Um, sorry there, 'Cress. Meant no harm." "Huh?" Watercress hadn't even heard, she was still intently trying to read the flyer over the back of Two Nails. Saltlick looked greatly relieved and cleared his throat "Ahem! Well, less' see here. We got dancin' bunnies, just like she said..." he nodded at Watercress "...some filly named Plantain Acres has a whole peck a' trained bunnies - they dance, they march, they do fancy steppin' all over the place and finish with gymnastics - she's got the whole lot leapin' and hoppin' to music. Best Lagomorphic entertainment this side a' Los Pegasus, whatever that means. She's also got some rhythmic click'n banana spiders with her too, and I don't know what all." "O...kay." That didn't particularly excite Sackbarrel too much "What else this thing got?" Saltlick glanced at the sheet again " There's a dancin' spectacle involvin' pegasai. They hover through the air without so much as a flap of th' wing, or so it says." "That ain't possible! Pegasus gotta' flap or he up and fall!" Stonebridge wasn't buying it. "Ain't no flyin' without flappin' much less dancin' in the air. That's just foalish nonsense!" "That's what it says, see for yourself!" Saltlick pushed the sheet closer to the carpenter. "Also, it's not a HE it's a She pegasus, and what appears to be a whole flock of feathered mares right behind her doin' the same thing!" Stonebridge did just that. He only knew how to read a little, but he still made the effort. "Well... maybe. But I still say ya gotta flap if ya wanna fly!" "How 'bout this, then? They got a whole herd a' fancy singers doin' show tunes and songs from earthponies. No, not earthponies, from... Earth. What? Show tunes from dirt?" Saltlick looked confused. Dumpy's ears stood tall and straight at this. "Mebby they's SOIL tunes!" Nutbrown had a good chuckle. "Not soil tunes, show tunes, and it's from that thing from fifteen years ago! Remember?" Sackbarrel spoke like he was addressing foals "The thing! In the sky! Princess Celestia herself, the day bless her, appeared right over the middle of the village and talked about some other world, and immigrants and then there was that right pretty song and everything! Don't you recall? How many times have you seen Celestia herself hangin' in the sky?" He had come just short of adding 'you numbskulls!' "Hey, I remember that!" Two Nails seemed proud to use his memory "That was some mighty impressive speechifyin' plus it was all up in the sky... and I can still remember that song!" He began to hum the sweet, beautiful tune. "Yeah! That was swell pretty! I hope they do that song again!" Stonebridge joined in. Nopony could remember the words, but it really was a catchy tune. Saltlick broke in "Hey... it looks like we got us a special guest too! Looky here! Says' there may even be a special appearance by the Princess herself, schedule permittin'. Well, don't that beat all. We done seen her in the sky, now we mebby get to see her in person! Will wonders never cease!" "So, are we gonna go, huh, huh?" Watercress was bouncing again, excited beyond measure. Likely because she wanted to see the dancing bunnies, more than anything. "Can't hardly not go, 'Cress!" Sackbarrel rolled his eyes "'Cause it's comin' right here straight to US! Dumpy suddenly found himself choking on his cider. 9. Yeah, them chicken coops was full of bearsThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance9. Yeah, them chicken coops was full of bears It had taken a whole day to construct the stage. The wagons had been flown in, pulled by teams of pegasai, all wearing blue roadie tack and billed caps with the bright yellow Happy Pony Show logo emblazoned upon them. The wagons were cleverly built so that they would unfold like puzzle boxes to form the stage and the scaffolding, with the various pieces of the finished construction lifted by the pegasai and locked into place by roadie unicorns. Roadie earthponies hauled set pieces and hammered whatever needed hammering, which from the sounds that filled the ears of the villagers was quite a lot. Dumpy had occasionally stolen peeks at the stage construction as he went about his daily tour of Martingale, and when he dared, even a full on steamy gawk or two. Once he thought he caught a glimpse of none other than Thunder Road among the busy pegasai, but he couldn't be sure. He found himself both terrified and strangely happy at the appearance of the touring show - he was all but certain that it must have derived from the old Newfoal Society. The big question was whether or not the original cast was still involved. When he had fled, fifteen years ago, he had been terrified the lot would end up statues decorating parks across Equestria. But now... now he was no longer so sure. In his decade and a half in Martingale On Hackamore, Dumpy had seen Equestria in a new way, with increasingly open eyes. He had listened to the lives of every pony in the village, and he had come to know these fine citizens. He had come to know their hearts, their souls, and through them the essence of the Equestrian spirit. These were not strange invaders, nor were they fanatical PER members out to force ponification on anypony. They were a kinder, nicer breed than Man, and very different than he had imagined after his sudden and unplanned transformation. Ponies cared about each other and all living creatures before things, knowledge about themselves and others before knowledge about the world, and sharing was a greater treasure to them than the accumulation of wealth. They weren't saints - there were rascals and fools and grumpy sorts among them, snotty airheads and sniveling brown-nosers too. But when tickle came to spank, not once, not ever, would a pony truly abandon another, or gain at the expense of another, or fail to make up for a slight. Equestrians were ruled by their better angels at all times, whatever their apparent temperament. One time, Dumpy had run a little psychological experiment to see just how far this virtue went. He carefully placed a neatly stacked pile of bits on a fence post right next to the main road through the village. Then he left it there for two weeks, as every pony he knew passed by it, and a few from other villages, passing through, that he did not know. Some stopped and looked at the pile, some remarked to each other about it. Once he saw a foal - tiny Vanilla, Sweetcream's little filly - stop her mother so she could count the coins in the stack out loud. Vanilla was learning her numbers, and was ever so eager to count everything she could, to make her mother proud. When she was done, Sweetcream praised her little filly, and off they trotted, the stack untouched. At the end of two weeks, Dumpy went and collected his coins and took them home. He realized that he could store his coins anywhere, anywhere at all, and they would not be taken. It was likely, he reckoned, that a single coin laying in the dirt would be picked up - that was reasonable - but a neat stack was clearly an intentional thing. A purposeful thing, and even the poorest pony wouldn't steal it, because it just wouldn't be right. And not one of them needed the fear of some punishment, either natural or divine, to keep them honest. They were honest because they just plain cared. Somepony would miss those coins, wouldn't they? If this was what Equestrians were, then the being that created them just couldn't be bad. It was only reasonable to judge a creator by their creation, and if these were the beings that Celestia had chosen to bring into existence, if this was the sort of universe she had needed to make, then she just plain couldn't be mean or arbitrary. If that was true, then it seemed less and less likely that she would turn any member of the Newfoal Society to stone. Dumpy remembered Soliloquy - even there, Celestia hadn't so much punished a threat to her rule as gifted a profoundly unhappy pony with a vastly better life. Maybe that was the Equestrian equivalent of human execution - if a pony was so unhappy that they could never behave, then Celestia's answer was to give them a time out until the world was more what they needed, so they would have no reason to act out. Celestia was immortal. A time out for her could be a very, very long time to a normal pony. If the Happy Pony Show was the Newfoal Society reborn, then it seemed reasonable that the old troupe was still around, somewhere, and not as statues. They'd all ended up happy as pie, they were no longer malcontents. The only malcontent left, had been Dumpy himself. That too had faded, with time. Dumpy was sad about only one thing any longer. He really wished he didn't have to hide away, and sit quiet in a back corner of the pub, and remain alone. If only he could just be a normal pony, and not carry around all the poisonous Earth stuff inside him - like knowing what an 'execution' even was. Watercress and her parents Sundew and Clover sat forward and to the right of Dumpy. The little filly was beyond excited, and several times Sundew had to shush her and get her to settle down and the show hadn't even started yet. Dumpy's speculation that she was here for the bunnies had been verified, it was all the giggly little unicorn could talk about. Off to Dumpy's left, and even closer to the front was Stonebridge and Sackbarrel, they seemed for once not to be up to anything and were behaving themselves. The exceptional novelty of anything at all happening in the tiny farming village of Martingale was perhaps so overwhelming that the two friends had no reason to fuss about or prank anypony. They seemed subdued, almost in awe, trying to soak in the fact that there was a stage, right there, in front of them, where just a day before there had been Old Roan Summersquash's fallow field facing the road that ran by the village. Dumpy had the distinct impression that if all that happened was just the stage being there, Stonebridge and Sackbarrel would consider it the best day of their lives even if nothing else went on. This was likely true for more than a few of the villagers, and the fact of that made Dumpy smile for some reason. His village was such a simple, innocent place, and he realized that at some point in the last fifteen years he had completely fallen in love with it. Martingale On Hackamore wasn't just a place for him to hide in anymore. It was home. Warm, safe, utterly irreplaceable home. Dumpy shifted on his hay bale - that was the seating for this shindig - and looked around at the crowd. Nutbrown, Glade Blossom and Stormy, Old Saltlick, Two-Nails and his husband Ringlet, the Pumpkin twins and even that pushy rascal Cornhusk... They were a family to Dumpy, inside his heart. They didn't know it, he never expressed it, but they were the most dear ponies he had ever known, the most precious treasure in his life, the lot of them. He laughed when they felt joy, and felt sad when things didn't go their way. Living in the shadows, hiding in the back corner of the Refreshetorium and Sometimes Inn, there was no way they could even begin to understand how deeply he felt. His village, his ponies, his best friends who didn't even know him. There was a tear in Dumpy's eye, but it wasn't exactly sadness, not exactly. It was more like wistfulness, with a big helping of simple joy - gladness that he at least got to live in the shadow of such a happy, beautiful place. It was a gift, just to sit in the back, it really was. Still, he wished... no. No, that was silly thinking. Celestia's glorious sun was setting as the lights came on illuminating the stage, as well as the hayfields, for miles around. Dumpy could see the Bevelmeiter tubes whirring off to the side of the stage, thaumatic engines driving the arcane lighting system. The old Society had really come a long way, even from that last performance in Manehattan - they had some seriously fanciful equipment, and a lot of roadie ponies to make it all work. The splendid twenty-four piece orchestra at the far back of the stage began tuning their instruments. The familiar sound made Dumpy's heart race - he recalled his own excitement, running around behind the flats, as stage manager, making sure everything was perfect before the curtain raised. That had been a bit of fun, he realized. Somewhat thankless at times, but very satisfying at the end of a successful show. Dumpy's right ear twitched, rotating to focus intently on a location somewhere behind the backdrop at the rear of the stage. His left ear swiveled to join, locking on. For a moment, Dumpy had thought he had heard the voice of Royal! Quickly he scanned the scene for any sign of a deep purple coat. No, it was too much to hope for... and come to think of it, maybe it was for the best. He had almost not even come, for fear of being recognized and pointed out. But he just couldn't hide in his little cottage, whatever the risk. He wanted to see a show again so much, he wanted some evidence his old society mates had ended up alright and not stone, he wanted... he wasn't sure what he wanted, really, but he was awful sure that he wanted it. There was no way he could possibly not be here. The arcane lights focused on a single mare who had stepped out to the front of the stage. She was very young, and strangely familiar, though Dumpy was sure he had never seen her before. She was a unicorn the color of heliotrope, deep, rich and intense. Her stage presence was astonishing, despite being obviously nervous. Still, her voice was impressively commanding when she finally spoke. "Let us all stand for the Pledge Of Equestria!" The village stood as one. All gave a short traditional bow, in deference to the crown, and then began the familiar recitation. "We Pledge Allegiance to Harmony To Compassion and Friendship for All With Love and Reverence for All Living Things No matter how Great or how Small And To Each Other we pledge our Lives Our herd, united as One We are the Joy of Equestria In Peace under Moon and Sun" Dumpy found himself wiping his eyes after he sat down again. He couldn't help it. The pledge of allegiance for Equestria. There was nothing about any flag, it was not about pledging to the crown, or the state, or any deity - even though Equestria had two of them. The allegiance here was purely and only to each other, to mutual kindness, to compassion itself, with the land and its rulers being barely noted at all. It was utterly unearthly, truly alien - and Dumpy loved it dearly. It was the only pledge he had ever spoken that he truly, actually meant and believed in. He hadn't felt forced to say this pledge - he had wanted to say it. The little heliotrope filly nervously giggled then, which made the audience laugh, and she scampered off the stage. The orchestra played a bouncy little opening piece and then an earthpony stallion walked onto the stage. His coat was the deepest, richest purple, his mane golden and silken. Around his long neck was a shiny gold Lamé tie and collar that sparkled in the arcane lights. There was no doubt. It was Royal! Royal was not only alive and well, he was still in showbiz, and Dumpy quite forgot himself and pumped his hoof while shouting "YEAH! ROYAL! HOOO!" while around him the rest of the village simply clapped their hooves or stomped. Dumpy slumped down on his haybale when he noticed a curious look from Nutbrown at his antics. "Welcome, everypony! Wow! What a lovely village you have here, I must say! We're all pretty excited to be here in... um..." Royal paused for the briefest of moments - "Martingale On Hackamore!" The villagers cheered at this, some waved their forehooves in the air, while others stomped in proper pony applause. Many hooted loudly - all were excited that this fancy show pony even knew the name of their village. For the first time ever, they all felt truly special. "How about some applause for my daughter there, who led the pledge?" The villagers, always happy to cheer on a youngster, thundered their approval. "Wow! Thank you for that! What a warm welcome here in Martingale! Her name is Eloquence, and maybe we can convince her to come back later in the show!" Another round of cheers followed. "Alright, we have a really great evening for you tonight at the Happy Pony Show, we have dancing bunnies, pegasus ballet, a fantastic magic show by a really talented unicorn, music, comedy, and a lot more!" Royal was, as ever, in his element, and Dumpy felt so glad, so very happy, just to see him up there doing what he did best. 'Eloquence', Dumpy thought to himself... the name... suddenly it hit him why the little filly had looked familiar. She resembled them so much, Royal and Soliloquy both. Eloquence must be the foal of both Soliloquy and Royal. Dumpy grinned. That was sweet. That meant Soliloquy must be alright too. They must all be alright, all the old members of the Newfoal Society! Dumpy relaxed at that realization. He had been wrong, and he was so glad of the fact. Maybe Golden and Bitsworth were here somewhere! Perhaps he would get to see Chair and Honeybutter - oh, sweet Luna, their foals must be really big now - and oh! Dumpy suddenly realized that the pegasus ballet could only be the work of Thunder Road. She must be here, as he had thought earlier! Oh this was wonderful! Maybe, just maybe, perhaps, he would work up the courage to go see them, backstage, after the show... oh, dare he? Would that even be a good idea? His head swum with the notion, and his heart beat fast in his chest. Oh my, the whole gang... Dumpy suddenly startled and realized that he had missed, in his ruminations, quite a bit of what Royal had been saying. He decided he'd better put his concerns and thoughts on hold, or he'd miss the show, and he didn't want to do that. Royal was explaining the next act, it seemed, to an audience who could have no idea whatsoever of anything about it. "...before the Collapse, humans went through a period of vast growth - both in technology and in population. At the time, it seemed like there were no limits to that growth, so the humans enjoyed shipping goods from everywhere to anywhere for the slightest of reasons. They did this in self-powered carriages called 'trucks', large boxy things that ran on wheels like a cart. They were completely closed, like barns on wheels, really, and the humans that controlled them rode in a little cabin at the front." Royal was doing a good job, but the villagers of Martingale were clearly a bit confused. "Now these trucks, these barns on wheels, ran on vast, incredibly long roads that were made of a kind of false stone that was made from something like tar, and poured out like paint. These highways ran for hundreds, even thousands of miles! Human cities would be dozens or hundreds of miles apart, and so the 'trucks' would take stuff from one city to another, perhaps even all the way to the end of one of those incredibly long highways!" The villagers of Martingale On Hackamore tried to wrap their imaginations around all of this, as best they could. The scale of such a thing was almost beyond them. "Now these 'truckers' as they called themselves, in that age of plenty, they had a new technology - a new magic, if you will - called 'Cee Bee Radios'. These were little boxes that every truck had, that allowed the truckers to talk with each other almost regardless of the distance. They could literally hear each others voices - though the sound was a little distorted, which we will be trying to mimic here for you. They had their own culture, their own slang words, their own way of doing things!" Royal paced across the stage as he explained it all. "Now this was a big deal to the humans of that time and place, and they wrote songs about this little subculture of truck drivers. What we've done is taken one of the most famous songs that survived from that period, and re-written it to fit with the advent of the Conversion Bureaus and the Newfoals I told you about at the beginning." As Royal spoke, a number of other performers took the stage, and among them Dumpy clearly noted Bitsworth, with his deep voice, and Chair as well. Then came Honeybutter and what must her filly Daisy Dew, all grown up. And there was Thunder Road, apparently ready to sing, and Argent and Topic and many more ponies that Dumpy had never met. "So," Royal nodded at the orchestra, who began to pound out a martial drum beat "I want to present to you a treasure of old Earth, re-written for the modern day, as performed by the Happy Pony Show company! Colt W. McFoal's immortal epic entitled 'Convoy: a CB (Conversion Bureau) Story'!!!" The music swelled, as Bitsworth cupped his hooves around his muzzle to simulate the buzzing effect of an ancient terrestrial communications device... (Sung to the tune of 'Convoy' by CW McCall [On the CB] "Ah, breaker one-nine, this here's old Rainbow Dash. You gotta copy on me, Big Mac, c'mon? Ah, yeah, 10-4, Big Mac, fer shure, fer shure. By golly, it's clean clear to Ponyville, c'mon. Yeah, that's a big 10-4 there, Big Mac, yeah, we definitely got the barn door, good pony. Luna's Silver Hoof, looks like we got us a convoy..." Was the princesses' moon on the sixth of June In a Kenworth pullin' flasks Cab-over Pete with a potion tank Jus'Doin'what Celestia asks H-L-F on our tail, on I-one-oh 'Bout a mile outta Bureau Town I says, "Big Mac, this here's Ol' Rainbow Dash. "And I'm about to put my blue hoof down." [Chorus] 'Cause we got a little convoy Trottin' through the night. Yeah, we got a little convoy, Ain't she a beautiful sight? Come on and sip some potion Get your ass converted today! We gonna hoof this Newfoal convoy To Eques-tri-A Convoy! [On the CB] "Ah, breaker, Big Mac, this here's the Dash. And, you wanna buck off them foals? Yeah, 10-4, 'bout five mile or so. Ten, roger. Them Newfoals ain't been barn-trained yet." By the time we got into Tulsa Town, We had eighty-five trucks in all. But they's a roadblock up on the cloverleaf, H-L-F was wall-to-wall. Yeah, them Fronters was thick as bugs on a bumper; No, them humans don't like to play fair I says, "Hey, Pegasai, this here's the Dash. "Hitch up we need'ta catch some air." [Chorus] We got tankers full of potion, flyin' through the day Yeah, we got a flying convoy, Pegasai came out to play Come on and sip some potion Get your ass converted today! We gonna soar this Newfoal convoy To Eques-tri-A Convoy! [On the CB] "Ah, you wanna give me a 10-9 on that, Big Mac? Negatory, Big Mac; you're still too close. Yeah, them foals is startin' to close up my sinuses. Muffin sakes, you better back off another ten." Well, we soared up Interstate 44 Doin' Rainbooms all the way The last of the humans in the back Traded up hands for hooves that day By the time we hit Bureau-town, H-L-F was gettin' smart: They'd brought up some reinforcements From the Illinois Humanist Guard. There's corp'rate mechs, and hover-tanks, And Blackmesh done gone fringe Yeah, them H-L-F was full'a fight Their blood-lust made us cringe We stampeded their line and we went for broke With a thousand flyin' trucks An' eleven long-tailed Friends a' Luna In a potion-stained micra-bus. (Huzzah!) [On the CB] "Ah, Rainbow Dash to Applejack, come over. Yeah, 10-4, Applejack? Lissen, you wanna put that micra-bus in behind that truck full of Newfoals? Yeah, they just got converted, and not one a'them is potty trained." Well, we laid a strip for the Barrier And prepared to cross the shield I couldn't see the dome for H-L-F Our pegasai weren't about to yield I says, "Big Mac, this here's the Rainbow Dash. "We just ain't a-gonna play their game." So we crashed the shield in our flyin' trucks I says "Let them buckers wail, 10-4." [Chorus] There's Newfoals in our cattle-cars, flyin' to their home Yeah, we got a flying convoy, We just made it through the dome I hope you sipped some potion Or else you won't make it today We gonna fly this Newfoal convoy To Eques-tri-A Convoy! Convoy! "Ah, 10-4, Big Mac, what's our next run?" Convoy! "OMAHA? Well, I just got me some silver sexy-pony mudflaps and a Bobble-Head Celestia onna dashboard" Convoy! "Ten four good buddy, my co-pilot is taking a powder for the next half hour, he's getting his hooves on, copy?" Convoy! "I like your 'Honk If You Love Celestia' bumper sticker. This here's the Rainbow Dash on the side." Convoy! "We gone. 'Bye,'bye." Not a single pony in the village understood any of it, but they enjoyed the bouncy tune and the general oddness of it all. None of them had ever seen a real fancy-like show before, and if nothing else, the spectacle itself was more than enough. They stomped their hooves excitedly, more for the fact of the show itself simply existing than for an actual appreciation of the piece at hoof. Dumpy, for his part, had been in stitches, but it was little Watercress who summed up the native Equestrian outlook best of all. "Bring on the bunnies!" 10. Love is a song that never endsThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance10. Love is a song that never ends Somewhat to the disappointment of both the singers and the dancers... and the orchestra, and the pegasus ballet company, and the actors and the boastful unicorn magician sulking behind the flats, the hit of the entire show was Plantain Acres and her marching bunnies. Her gigantic rhythmic banana spiders got their share of applause, certainly - you don't stiff your appreciation for giant spiders, whatever they decide to perform - Plantain's bunnies clearly stole the show. The brutal fact is that... well, you just can't beat bunnies. Especially when they do synchronized marching and dancing. Not even a hovering, perfectly still pegasus beats bunnies. At least not in a fringe-of-Equestria village like Martingale On Hackamore. It wasn't that the show hadn't been a success - far from it. Everypony in Martingale had driven their hooves to numbness and tingling from clapping and stomping - Old Saltlick complained he couldn't feel his frogs anymore at all, and Two Nails had such sore pasterns that he was limping when he had to go to the outhouse during the intermission. Not a single villager had ever put their hooves through such abuse over anything in such a short time, and they were all hard-working ponies the lot of them. Many had sore throats from hooting and hollering their approval and excitement, and poor little Watercress could hardly speak at all, for all the laughing and shrieking she had done at both the bunnies and the spiders both. Dumpy had been very glad he had come to see the show. Now that it was almost over, he was feeling mighty sad, actually. He'd made up his mind not to go backstage, because it would just cause endless trouble. He wanted, desperately, to speak to his old Society friends, but if he did that, then he would be Noticed by the villagers, and there would be Questions, not the simple kind but the Capital Q kind of Questions, the sort that would forever change his life in Martingale. He'd probably have to up and leave, just to avoid it all - they'd never let him be the invisible dung pony in the back, once he was connected to the Only Show To Ever Pass Through Martingale. No, no, no... there is no way he could talk to any of his old friends. Royal was concluding the show, bringing the performers out for final bows and more pain for the weary, clapped-out hooves of the villagers. "...hope you enjoyed our little show, and if you'll let us, maybe someday we just might be back this way to..." Royal stopped speaking, which made the audience curious. Somepony, a pale fuchsia mare, was pointing from the rear corner of the stage. Royal tried to follow her hoof "Are you sure? This isn't like that time in Greater Fetlock, right?" The mare just offstage seemed very adamant, which only made the audience even more curious what the hay was going on. Royal whispered something to the mare, she forcefully whispered something back, and it was at this point that Dumpy began to realize that her hoof was pointing more or less at his side of the audience, and that made him very nervous to say the least. He slumped down as low as he could, trying to get his head down behind the portly barrel of Sugarloaf the Beet-Farmer. Dumpy scanned left and right, seeing if there was any way he could sneak off through the crowd without drawing attention to himself, and considering there wasn't anything to actually hide behind other than the ponies around him, he decided to stay put. The villagers were looking about trying to see what the fuss was that had caused the concern on stage. There was no way Dumpy figured he could do anything but stay quiet and still. "Just a moment folks! We may have a special surprise for you tonight!" Royal had returned to the center of the large wooden stage. "We've been waiting for this moment for... oh, about just over a decade, more or less, and my wife tells me that... you're sure you're sure? Ok, then, burn the envelope. If you're sure, then do it." The pale fuchsia unicorn mare levitated a wax-sealed envelope into the mystic flame of one of the arcane lights that illuminated the stage so brightly. The envelope went up in a burst of strange green fire, which then collected into a ball and shot off into the night sky towards the north-west. This got the attention of the audience, who thought it was quite the fanciful trick, whatever it was. "Fillies and colts, mares and gentlestallions, I have an announcement to make!" Royal approached the edge of the stage. Behind him, several members of the troupe took the stage and joined the master of ceremonies. Dumpy instantly recognized them. The fuchsia unicorn was Soliloquy, of course, and she gave Royal a nuzzle as she stood by him. Their daughter, Eloquence, pushed her body between them getting nuzzles from both for the effort. There was Chair and Honeybutter and Daisy Dew, to the other side of Royal. Argent and Hot Topic stood close to Chair and Honeybutter, Argent gave his husband a quick kiss. Thunder Road, rose up and flew down to stand by Soliloquy, flaring her bright crimson wings just before a perfect stop. Dumpy didn't see Golden Showers, but he did see Bitsworth, who trotted up beside Thunder and gave her a nod and a wink. It was nearly the entire original group from The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society, all together, right there at the front of the stage. Royal followed his wife's pointing hoof once more, squinting through the arcane light in his muzzle. Suddenly he smiled and the smile became a grin. He nodded and visibly relaxed, apparently this was not going to be like whatever happened in Greater Fetlock. Dumpy tried harder to remain hidden behind Sugarloaf, and tried to will himself invisible. He didn't at all like where this was clearly going, and despite the best efforts of his mind to deny it, he was sure that Soliloquy's hoof had been pointed square at him. "Everypony - The Happy Pony Show wasn't always what you have seen today." Royal adjusted his trademark tie with a hoof. "It all started as a sort of therapy group for disgruntled Newfoals, more or less. We started out complaining about our lot in life, pretty silly really, in retrospect... but at the time it seemed to be a big deal, and we found ways to communicate our issues with others. From that humble beginning, we became the touring company we are today, and through it all, we've stayed together, as a big extended family!" Royal nodded at the rest of the ponies on stage, and gave his wife and daughter a loving nuzzle. "Our family has grown over the years, as you can imagine!" The remaining cast and crew of the show had taken the stage as Royal spoke, lining up behind the original Society ponies - dancers, performers, arcane lighting and soundspell crew, and all the roadies too. Dumpy peeked over the withers and ears of Sugarloaf at the stage, completely filled with ponies, some in costume, some wearing roadie tack and hats, some with tool-tack and saddlebags across their backs. All seemed expectant, excited, as if finally coming to the end of some grand quest. As Dumpy gazed upon the crowded stage, he felt a strange pressure in the air, the sort of feeling that occurs when the pegasai start piling dark and swollen clouds up overhead in preparation for a scheduled summer thunderstorm. A strange glow, the colors of the morning began to shine, and briefly Dumpy wondered if the show had lasted all night and he had failed to notice. "All of us have been on tour, and we've seen parts of Equestria we didn't even know existed. It's been a fabulous, wonderful adventure, but always, in our thoughts, has been one pony, one of our original members, our first stage manager. He was a dear friend, though we didn't really show him that as much as we should have." Dumpy felt tears well up in his eyes as Royal spoke - he never thought they cared, not enough to remember him after all this time, not like this. He had no idea what to think, but it was completely clear that there was no point in hiding anymore. Dumpy sat up straight, and gave a little wave. Soliloquy and Argent both noticed - Argent raised a hoof slightly, and Soliloquy gave Dumpy a warm smile. "But maybe it would be best for me to hush now, because nothing I could say could equal simply her presence here. I would like to present to you, her majesty, princess Celestia of Equestria!" After a quick glance above, Royal bowed deep and low, and immediately with him so did the entire cast and crew of the Happy Pony Show. The audience followed the brightening of the light to a swirling glow above the backdrop of the stage. The glow receded leaving a shining white, winged shape hovering above the stage. Instantly the citizens of the tiny village of Martingale On Hackamore instinctively bowed as well as an ineffable, wonderfully loving, and transcendent presence washed over them. Those on stage parted leaving space for her majesty to land. Gold shod hooves touched lightly on the wooden planks, as her perfect wings folded to her side. The princess of the sun smiled radiantly at all, her ethereal mane shimmering in soft blues, greens and coral shades, ever swirling in some esoteric breeze beyond understanding. "Bucket, your loving friends have long sought to find you, as also have we." Dumpy quavered as he gazed up. Around him the villagers looked about, confused. They knew every pony in their small village, and every pony nearby, and not one of them was named 'Bucket'. Who was this 'Bucket' the princess seemed to think was here? Bucket? They turned to each other asking if anypony had heard of a 'Bucket', or had a cousin in another county, or... Dumpy swallowed, and tried not to cry. Slowly he stood up among the still partly bowing villagers and briefly looked around at them, at all the ponies he had known and loved from afar for so many years. Old Saltlick gave him the most curious look. Nutbrown shook his head, as if to say 'get down, Dumpy, she isn't addressing you!'. Dumpy turned his head back to Celestia. It was very different seeing her after all his village years, up on a stage under arcane lights yet glowing with her own light, wise and ancient beyond measure. "Hi, guys. Um... Princess." Dumpy felt his legs shake, they felt weak, like he might just collapse right there and then. "I... um... I missed you, too." And then it all became a swirl of motion and color - somehow the audience managed to part and make way as his old Society friends poured down from the stage like water over a waterfall to surround him and hug him and greet him and scold him too, and it was happy, and sad, and confusing and crowded, but more than anything it was wonderful. So many words were all said at once, and he felt caught up in some great whirlwind of sound and greeting and kisses and questions. It was impossible for the little stallion to keep track of it all, but it was happy, and that was all that mattered. In short order, the village learned that their quietest and most reserved citizen was really a pony of some note, that he had been a member of whatever it was that had happened fifteen years ago up in the sky, and that he was loved by all these impressive and important show-pony folk. They learned that his name wasn't 'Dumpy Dungcart', or at least it hadn't always been, and that he had once been called 'Bucket', and that he was one of these 'Newfoals' that Celestia cared about so much. Dumpy - he had lived under that name for fifteen years now, and his old name just didn't seem to belong to him anymore - was dragged away by his old friends backstage, where there was cider and fancy, tasty treats from all over Equestria to nibble, and more hugs and more questions and many stories about what had happened to everypony over the years. While this went on, Celestia, princess of the sun and ruler of all Equestria talked to the villagers of Martingale On Hackamore. She explained many things to them, things they had never understood about Equestria and about the lonely little dungcart pony that lived among them. When she had heard from the villagers about his strange isolation, her ageless wisdom let her counsel them on what had almost certainly made him act that way, and how she did not wish his sad isolation to be allowed to continue. In the week that had followed, the cast and crew of the Happy Pony show had become like some big extended family to the citizens of Martingale, cousins from afar. Watercress got to play with the the marvelous dancing bunnies, and became close to their trainer, Plantain. Argent and Topic found the taste of Martingale cider much to their liking, and quickly became the center of attention at Old Saltlick's Not-Pub with their wild stories and clever banter. Somehow they ended up involved in some kind of insane prank with Stonebridge and Sackbarrel, and somehow Sackbarrel's general store got trashed in the process, but nopony was hurt, thankfully, though whatever it was was Not To Be Spoken Of in the future. Two Nails took some kind of fancy to Thunder Road, and not a lot was seen of either of them for most of the week, Nutbrown and Cornhusk couldn't seem to get enough of Bitsworth, who had learned to do all manner of clever prestohoofitation and other curious tricks - they bothered him incessantly for another demonstration. Glade Blossom and Stormy found much to talk about with Chair and Honeybutter - it seemed that Glade had a marvelous singing voice, though she was more interested in Honeybutter's experience raising her foals. Glade was worried about her own impending day of delivery. Dumpy found out that Golden Showers had left the company to pursue full-time philanthropy, giving away prizes was not enough now that he had the bug to help other ponies. Apparently he had done some wonderful things all across Equestria in terms of setting up charity organizations to provide numerous services to any who wanted them. But the biggest moment for Dumpy was when Celestia had asked him to walk with her. "I know why you ran away, my little pony, and it is my wish that you stop running now." They walked beside the slowly rolling Hackamore river, down the road that Dumpy took his cart. Celestia had noted how beautiful the flowers grew along the route. "Y-you want me t-to rejoin the show?" Dumpy felt miserable at that prospect, he really did deeply love living in Martingale, and the last thing he wanted now was to leave his wonderful home and all the ponies he had come to love so much. "No, no, not at all. I wish you to stop running away." Dumpy had stopped when the princess did, her eyes were intent on him, filled with timeless compassion. "I... princess, I don't want to hurt these ponies! I don't dare... I don't dare get close or..." Dumpy felt like crying. How could he explain the threat he represented, with his head full of Earth and Man and war and torture and murder and violence? "Dumpy." Only the princess never failed to remember his new name - Royal and the others were always slipping and calling him 'Bucket'. "The song that made you run away. Tell me why you ran." Dumpy blinked. "I thought you said you already knew why I ran away?" "I do, but I want you to tell me, in your own words." Celestia was quiet and patient. Dumpy looked down and dug a small furrow with a hoof in the dirt road. "That song, it was... the anthem of the Nazi Party. They were one of the most evil groups in the entire history of Mankind and..." Celestia cut him off. "No. None of that is true." "What?" Dumpy was astonished. "Tomorrow Belongs To Me was written by the humans John Kander and Fred Ebb for a musical show called 'Cabaret'. It was written after the style of German songs of the period the show was about, but the song itself never existed until that musical. But even if it had been an authentic Nazi Party song, what would it have mattered?" Celestia smiled softly at the little stallion. "But... evil... and..." Dumpy stammered, unable to process what the princess meant. "This is Equestria, Dumpy. Here, no matter what its history, it would only be a pretty song. That's all it could ever be. Do you really think that my little ponies could be swayed to become evil by a pretty little song? Do you think they could ever become evil at all? Could you, now, do evil, even if you wanted to?" It struck Dumpy how incredibly tall Celestia was. She towered over him. "N..no! And I wouldn't ever even want to be evil, not ever!" Dumpy blurted out. "Of course you wouldn't. Nopony wants to hurt anypony, or any other creature. It's part of what being Equestrian means." Celestia gave the upset little stallion a comforting nuzzle. "With very few exceptions, every Newfoal became a true child of Equestria. Conversion was more than just trading hands for hooves, my little pony. Never doubt that your heart is as pure as that of any other Equestrian, whatever you may remember of your old world. Knowing something is not the same as having the sort of heart that could actually do it. Do you understand?" "I... I think so, princess." Dumpy found himself smiling. "How do you know all of that, I mean, about the song and all?" Celestia looked at him for a moment, then performed a very affected accent "I vut nefer consiter infating bevor pervorming initial tactical rezerch!" Dumpy stared, open mouthed at this, then burst out laughing. Tears came to his eyes. It was astonishing to hear the princess, the goddess of the very sun, sound so silly, so whimsical, so... fun. "Despite what you may have heard, Dumpy Dungcart, I am not nearly as grim as some would make me out to be." It was a revelation for the little stallion. The ruler of all Equestria could do funny voices and make ponies laugh. Celestia was far more interesting and complex than he had realized. One thing bothered him now, though. "W-why... why are you... well, bothering... with me?" It was a reasonable question. After all, he was nopony. There were... well there must be billions, just billions of Newfoals in Equestria now. Why would the princess of the sun bother... with little Dumpy Dungcart from Martingale On Hackamore? Was there more to this, was something going on that he didn't understand or... "Your little Newfoal Society did the crown a great service, Dumpy." Celestia was being serious now, Dumpy didn't see any laughter in her eyes or her tone. "Your show presented an opportunity to let the Newfoals be seen as equal, positive, and valued members of Equestria. It also presented a means to relieve a certain amount of building political tension, a necessary thing to take care of every few decades. Your whimsical irreverence was exactly what was needed at precisely the right time." Dumpy thought about it. It was likely that the court of the princess may not have been in entire agreement with her decision to take in billions of strange refugees from a dying world. Even with Conversion, there might be doubt, worry, even open distrust. Who knew how far it might drive some ponies in positions of relative authority? It was exactly the sort of thing that called for subtlety - the power to reshape continents would be useless against political issues. It was a curious thought - being able to do anything did not automatically mean the absence of all complexity or difficulty. Even goddesses had to find clever solutions to the more... common problems. "Even so..." Dumpy began, but couldn't manage to finish the thought. "Because, Dumpy Dungcart of Martingale On Hackamore, I really do care about all of my little ponies." Celestia's soft smile was utterly charming, and without any guile. Why Dumpy? Because he was there, because she knew him, because she really, truly did care, just like anypony would. "I... I promise that I will open up, and be unafraid in the future, princess. I really love the ponies here, and I want to be their friend so much. I just hope... I just hope they will want to talk to me, after so many years of... of..." Dumpy hung his head. "I wouldn't worry about that, Dumpy. I know for a fact that every pony in Martingale not only forgives you completely, but is eager to be your friend!" Celestia gave Dumpy a conspiratorial wink. "I don't understand." Dumpy and Celestia had begun to walk once more, again on the path towards his little cottage, and far beyond it, the composting pits. "Well, you are my friend, after all, and I have found that most ponies are very excited to meet friends of mine." Dumpy giggled at this. "Wanna see my dung-cart? It's a really great cart!" "I'd like nothing better?" That made them both laugh. It was early, on a beautiful Celestday's evening. Dumpy had taken his usual two baths, the second with but a single drop of the exquisite bath essence that Soliloquy had gifted him. It smelled of the freshest of meadows and the most delightful of moments immediately after a summer rain, yet it enhanced his natural, warm, stallion scent, all while eliminating every offensive odor. It was a gift from some strange part of Equestria that he couldn't remember the name of, but he was so incredibly grateful for the magical gift. The Happy Pony Show had moved on, to other villages and ultimately out into the Exponential Lands where the majority of all Newfoals lived. That was their lifelong passion, the growing troupe - to seek out new villages, new towns, new civilizations and entertain them. Dumpy was almost tempted to join his old friends, but the fact was that Martingale On Hackamore was the only village in all the universe that he wanted, or needed, to be in. "Dumpy! Welcome!" Old Saltlick greeted him as he entered the Refreshetorium and Sometimes Inn for his social night. "Two pints of cider, please!" Dumpy used teeth and hoof to present four coins to his friend behind the counter. "Oh... and a tray, to carry them with?" Saltlick nodded and set about getting the order. When the tankards were filled and the tray was ready, Dumpy took it in his teeth and carried the two pints carefully over to his new favorite spot, the table by the fireplace. It was the most romantic spot, according to what Stormy had told him. That was where Stormy had first met his Glade Blossom. Dumpy cautiously placed the tray down on the table with his teeth, then pushed the tray more to the center with a hoof. He walked around to the low, green cushion and sat his haunches down. He looked around at the smiling ponies, the familiar Celestday crowd. Stonebridge was waiting for Sackbarrel to finally show up, and gave Dumpy a friendly wave. Two Nails was busy practicing his game for when Nutbrown arrived, he gave Dumpy a warm nod, then returned to calculating just the right 'oomph' to give the little sliding disk under his hoof. Finally, Dumpy's eyes came to rest on the most wonderful thing in the entire room, the one thing that made the night, and the days, and the years all more happy and delightful than the ones before. The exquisite chestnut mare, Tumberel, looked at Dumpy with love in her great, emerald eyes. Dumpy grinned at her, his ears high on his head, his heart beating in joy. "Your cider, missus Dumpcart!" He stated. "Thank you, mister Dumpcart!" She replied. THE END 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 Recombinant 63: A Conversion Bureau Story HUMAN in Equestria: A Conversion Bureau Story The Novellas: The PER: Michelson and Morely The Reasonably Adamant Down With Celestia Newfoal Society! 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 Optimalverse Works: Friendship Is Optimal: Caelum Est Conterrens Injectorverse Works: I.D. - That Indestructible Something The Non-Conversion Bureau Fanfics: The Ice Cream Pony Summer Around The Bend 1. Revenge is a dish best served on a bunThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance1. Revenge is a dish best served on a bun The stallion was a rich, dark, royal purple, the color that kings of Earth once had coveted, the hue of the last shade of twilight just before enshrouding night. His mane was a striking gold that shimmered as he trotted to the podium, a shining mane and tail that any ancient, Earthly emperor would have sacked a nation to possess. His hooves shone like jewels as he slammed them loudly against the wooden stand like twin gavels. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT already! Settle down! Settle down!" The dark purple pegasus stamped a hind hoof down for additional emphasis. The six ponies in the audience fell silent, their stories and anecdotes and catching-up put on hold. One of the ponies quickly scarfed down the last of his meal of oatburgers and hay fries, which he had brought in a little woven basket from the oatburger stand. He reminded himself to take the basket back. "LOOK AT ME!" The shimmery dark purple stallion suddenly dropped to all four hooves from the podium and ambled to the right, showing off his flank side, neck turned so that his eyes remained fixed on the six ponies attending. "LOOK... at what they did to me! Look, really LOOK... at the horror of what I have become!" The golden light from the firefly lanterns rippled down his muscular body, gleaming from his dark indigo coat. He tossed his mane, to get the long, luxurious strands out of his eyes, and the locks poured like liquid gold across his withers. His strong barrel and powerful hocks seemed larger than life on the small stage. His tail was like a waterfall of riches, his hooves shining perfection. "All of us - each one of us - has suffered just the same as me. We're all VICTIMS of CELESTIA!" "YEAH!" It was Wooden Chair, just 'Chair' to his friends - he hated the nickname 'Woody'. He was a carpenter, originally from Foalsburg, but recently moved to Canterlot. "I used to have a decent job on Earth! I used to be somebody - NOT somepony!" A chorus of hoots and hollers offered support and sympathy to the strikingly muscular emerald stallion who had stood up. "I worked hard in a HUMAN shop for HUMAN wages and I had a HUMAN body! I was a human man, and MAN was I HUMAN!" The hoots became louder and were joined with not a few stomps of hooves. "I had my drinking problem under control - I drank, and my problems went away!" The hoots were surpassed by the hollers now, much to the surprise of the hoots. "I had the best girls that money could buy!" The hoof stomps were drowned out by whistles and cat-calls. "But then THEY came, and hosed me down! Me, and everypony... I mean EVERYBODY" Raucous cheers met his correction "Everybody in my sweatshop, and when I woke up, I WAS A PONY!" Comforting noises filled the large community auditorium. Six pony voices offered their condolences. "And what do I have now? I was a cheap press-board factory carpenter on earth, and NOW I WORK WITH WOOD! Real... highest quality... wood. I used to get paid in credits, now what do I get? GOLD! I get paid in small... rather beautiful GOLD COINS! What kind of madness IS THAT? I spent my money on booze and cheap whor... whooorrr... prost... prosss... FLOOZIES and what did I end up with? A EXQUISITELY BEAUTIFUL, LOVING MARE THAT WORSHIPS ME AND TWO ADORABLE FOALS THAT CALL ME DAD?" Tears came to the mahogany-colored earthpony. He wiped his muzzle with a manicured hoof. "What kind of a life is THAT?" The carpenter pony sat down, comforted by those on either side. "HEAR! HEAR!" Payne, the royal purple pegasus at the podium, had refused to take an Equestrian name. It was an act of defiance, and defiance was something he was good at. He figured it had something to do with his namesake, one of the founders of an old nation that had been called 'America', once. His last name was Payne... he had originally been named 'Thomas' Payne. Because of his coloration, he had been convinced to take the first name 'Royal', but he had clung to his Earthly family name as a personal protest. "I have brought you together, all of you, because I wanted you to hear the story of my friend, Chair." Royal took to the podium again, rearing up so that his forehooves could rest on the top of the stand. "Chair's story is a common one. I'm sure every pony here..." Royal cocked his head, then shook it. "Every PERSON here, can relate to it. We are the ones that never signed up for any of this. We never went to a Conversion Bureau, we never asked to be ponies! Maybe it was the PER..." A murmur came up from two of the six ponies in the audience. One of them was Chair, himself. "Maybe it was the WorldGovernment performing Emergency Civilian Mass Conversions!" Royal spoke the last in as growling and scary a voice as he could, referring to the desperate spraying of entire populations when it became clear that time was running out. Three ponies in the audience murmured at this, followed by a complete six-pack of murmuring as all realized their commonality. "What I am about to say to you is not for the faint of flank!" Royal stared at the assembled ponies "It is my intention to form a group, a clan, a tribe, a.... um.... group.." "You said that one already" Offered Hot Topic, helpfully. Topic was a reporter for the society section of the Canterlot Querier, a newspaper dedicated to fringe issues and celebrity gossip. He had become a fairly famous, if not universally respected celebrity in his own right. "How about 'Society?' We could be a society!" It was Golden Showers, the first Newfoal millionaire. He had made his bits selling shower-heads to Equestria. Oddly, the native Equestrians had never invented the shower, but had relied on baths and hot-tubs. Showers had been a Celestia-send to the hard-working ponies of the new world, and the success had showered the former human in real gold. He lived in a mansion in Canterlot, and was known for his amazing soirees - and for what was possibly the finest collection of aged cider in the whole of Equestria. "Oh! I like that! How about the 'Angry Newfoal Society!" The silver unicorn that had offered this was a well known critic of plays and musicals in Canterlot. He had taken the name Argent, and he was the toast of high society, and the bane of aspiring authors. "No... no... we can't use 'angry'. It just isn't true!" Thunder Road was a bright red pegasus with a pale yellow mane. She had risen to a position of prominence as the fastest carriage ride in the Canterlot area. She was also noted for her incredible lightning-storm tours, which had a six-month waiting list even for the Canterlot elite. The manager of the Wonderbolts had contacted her about possibly providing special transport accommodations for their guests, but she hadn't responded yet. "Let's face it, everypony," "EveryBODY!" the other five shouted in unison. "Body. Everybody. Sorry. It's so hard, you know?" All the ponies in the room nodded in grumbling agreement. "EveryBODY," She continued "the fact is that when we were altered - without our permission -" a chorus of upset voices erupted briefly "we were left without the ability to even GET truly angry. I mean, I can get angry, real angry, just not HUMAN angry. I can't work up a good, serious HATE for ANYTHING anymore!" This really got the rest nodding and even produced two hoots. "Try as I might, the best I can do is a light acrimony, and that JUST WON'T DO!" Loud nickers and whinnies showed that she was not alone in her frustration. "Alright, Alright..." Royal began putting things together in his head "If not 'angry' - then what are we? Miffed? Indignant? Wrathful?" "Oh, not wrathful. That's worse than angry!" Thunder Road scolded. "ADAMANT!" Bucket practically shouted the word, proud of himself. Unlike the others, Bucket was not wealthy or successful at all. He pulled dung carts on the lowest tier of Canterlot, transporting them to the mulch center downwind. "Oh, 'Adamant' is... adequate." Argent pondered briefly, hoof to muzzle. "I think it needs to be modified a bit, in deference to the point brought up by our dear Thunder, here." Thunder smiled at that. Argent nodded back. "I am thinking... we should add the term 'reasonable'... no... 'reasonably'. Yes! Reasonably. Reasonably Adamant!" "It's PERFECT!" Thunder Road was very pleased and did a little pony prance with her hooves, which three of the stallions found delightful. Argent had... different tastes. Royal looked at his hooves. His accursed, polished, perfect hooves. "Very well, then... we're the Reasonably Adamant.... what? What do we want here, really? How to put it...." "Justice! We want justice!" Golden Showers was excited, getting into the swing of things. He raised a hoof over his head "We want... the perpetrators to be... um... sorry!" Golden looked befuddled, noting his own human drive for bloody, brutal vengeance missing, replaced by a watered-down milk-toasty impulse to simply correct sorrows and fix problems. It was terrible and awful to be forced to be thoughtful when, on Earth, he had been used to destroying lessers and laughing at their plight. "I'd like them taken down a peg." Bucket mournfully sighed. "THAT'S IT!" Royal was grinning with an almost naughty feeling of rebellion within him. "And WHO is ultimately responsible?" Five pairs of incredibly beautiful eyes stared at him, devoid of answers. "CELESTIA! She's responsible for everything! She's a bloody great GODDESS, after all!" The room nodded as one and waited, expectantly, both eager and afraid of the obvious. Royal stood as tall as he could on his back legs, a terribly unnatural feeling now."DOWN WITH CELESTIA!!!" Five ponies gasped, despite knowing what was coming. Thunder Road giggled nervously. So did Argent. "How about this, then... I call to order the first meeting of the... um..." Royal scrambled to put all the pieces together in his head. His tall, elegant ears flicked about while he concentrated. "The.... The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society!" At that, the rest of the ponies in the room sidestepped hooting and went directly to cheers, with the occasional whoop for good measure. The name was a rousing success, and with it their identity and purpose as an organization had been established. "Ok..." Bucket looked up morosely. Bucket always looked up morosely. "What do we actually do?" Five pairs of sparkling, inhumanly lovely eyes stared down at the dung-cart pony with mild, but not unkindly disdain. It was such an utterly inappropriate question. It quite ruined the mood. "Things!" Royal stated with an authority born from being the former CEO of the Worldgovernment Propaganda and Infotainment Ministry. "Clever... crafty... things." The word was dripping with intrigue and skullduggery "Things that... Celestia will never suspect. Things that will bring her down a notch, things that will make her aware of our suffering!" Bucket thought for a moment. "What do we get outta that, once she understands? Earth is gone. Do we get bits? Is this like a lawsuit?" Thoughts of not having to pull a dung cart began to lift Bucket's spirit. "Oh! No no no no... nothing so crass as... bits." Golden Showers made a mental note to have his third butler attend him at the next session, to fluff the silken pillow he was forced to sit on in this... meeting... place. "We seek... what do we seek, anyway?" Golden turned his exquisitely coiffed head first one way and then another, looking for some clue. "Public recognition of the suffering of Newfoals!" Thunder Road sat back and folded her forelegs. "An apology! A FORMAL apology - for the loss of our planet and for rescuing us against our will!" Argent gave his best 'serious' look, the one with the eyebrows low and the sneer on the muzzle. He had practiced it for weeks. It was perfect. It had floored them at the opening of 'The Ponies Of Penzance'. "Actually, that was kind of the world government that did the converting that saved us. And the PER. Celestia herself always made it clear that conversion was a free choice." Chair was surprised at the dirty looks. It was nevertheless true. Hot Topic glared through narrowed, furtive eyes all around the room. "Celestia had more to do with everything than anypony knows." "EVERYBODY!" Five ponies shouted as one. "FINE!" Topic glared with wide eyes now, a different glare, but it was still pretty glarey. "The point is... she DID!" "Did what?" Bucket was confused now. "Have more... to do... had more.... SHE WAS INVOLVED SOMEHOW!" Topic turned away, breathing moderately heavily. "I want... my ability to... think mean thoughts back!" Golden Showers had been one of the ruling elite on Earth, now he was only just unimaginably wealthy by Equestrian standards. But what truly hurt was that his vast success had only benefited all of those under him, and every day was filled with congenial ponies getting orders done on time and within budget. On Earth he had enjoyed crushing competition and squashing upstarts... but here no such thing existed. He had become the Royal Shower Maker to the Crown. There was no higher achievement possible. It was a disaster, and he couldn't even plot revenge for it. "I want... PRESS-BOARD!" Chair wasn't the least annoyed at making the highest quality furniture for Equestria's elite. But it was the principle of the thing. "I demand... uh... SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER THEATRE!" Argent was a little stumped. He knew he was dissatisfied, despite his great success as a critic, but... he wasn't sure what it was that he was upset about. "Argent..." Royal hesitated, but pressed on "...That's not... really... I mean, plays and shows have always varied in quality and..." Argent hung his head, crimson mane falling softly across his delicate and handsome silvern features "Very well. Then let me say that... I want whatever it is that I want.... and I want it now." "That will do." Royal sighed. "I have something to want." Thunder Road tossed her yellow curls. "I want Earth back!" "What?" The group was incredulous. "Well, if Celestia really is some kind of deity, she can put our planet back. Or recreate it. Or... I don't know. Make things the way they were!" Thunder humphed. It wasn't unreasonable was it? "I think that's a little unreasonable, Thunder." Royal was starting to get the beginnings of a headache. "If she could have stopped Equestria from crashing into Mundis, don't you think she would have? It would have saved her having to take in nineteen billion refugees." "They say only eight billion actually made it." Bucket looked down. Bucket always looked down. He pulled a dung cart. Of course he looked down. Five pairs of eyes of incomparable loveliness glared slightly harshly at the tan earthpony. Royal considered for a moment. "Thunder... in wanting the Earth back, do you really mean that you want your human body back? Is that it?" It had to be it. Royal felt like quite the amateur psychologist with this insight. "No, sweet Luna, no. That isn't it at all. I can fly now. I can fly really, really well. FLIGHT. Under my own power. On Earth I was just this really fat girl with pimples and bad knees. I could barely waddle down the sweets aisle. Now I can eat all the pie and cake I want, look perfectly trim, and fly faster than the wind. I can MAKE the wind. No. No way am I giving up this baby." Thunder Road wiggled her flanks and gave her right wing a kiss. "Oh." Royal tried not to stare at those shapely haunches that... no. He was a human, or at least he had been, and he should like human girls, even if there weren't any anymore. "Then what do you want, then, if getting the Earth back isn't likely?" "I don't... know. Something..." The bright red pegasus mare stared off, unsure but somehow empty. Royal waited and when nothing more followed, he gave a light cough. "Alright then, I'm with Argent." Thunder Road put on her 'tough' look "I also want whatever it is that I want." She gave Bucket a good glare. "And I want it now, too." Bucket just mumbled, quietly. "Why not just ask for some bits? Bits are good." Nopony heard him. 4. We gonna rock down to Thaumatic AvenueThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance4. We gonna rock down to Thaumatic Avenue Argent ran his long, sinuous, prehensile tongue up Hot Topic's midnight black belly, all the way up over his chest, and then straight up his neck until he reached the unicorn's strong jaw. Giggling, Topic tried, desperately, to remain still as Argent continued all the way along the underside of his jaw right to his lips. Just under his jaw was ticklish for Hot Topic, and Argent knew that, but it was all part of the lesson. Argent was teaching his new lover how to turn a tickle into intense pleasure. The secret was to let go all defense, all reservation, and to open oneself completely to the sensation, devoid of any hint of feeling threat. The secret was trust. Topic shivered, almost frightened by how strong the sensation was. This time it had worked, and the ticklish feeling had transformed into something almost like the sort of feeling that Argent was so good at producing for him much lower on his body. Argent pressed his silvery muzzle to Topic's dark face in a soft, deep kiss. "Now... how was that?" Hot Topic, as a reporter, had researched many things and uncovered many secrets and discovered many wonders both in his life as a human on earth, and in his last four years as an Equestrian. But he had never imagined that it would be possible to change something as fundamental as the squirmy feeling under his jaw into exquisite, mind shattering pleasure. "It was... a revelation. On many levels." "Oh?" Argent lay back on the floor, resting his head in the crook of Topic's foreleg. "Quirying minds want to know." Topic felt a hoof gently trace circles on the soft hair of his belly, just above his sheath. It was very distracting. Hot Topic was a reporter for the Canterlot Querier, so he could not help but chuckle at the choice of words. "Well, for one, that really... worked. Just like you said. Wow. Just... Wow." Topic kissed the pale, spiral horn beside his head. "I... could tell. Go on, I want to hear the entire... report. Before it hits the newsstands. I'm doing fact-checking, you see." Argent grinned, and used his hoof to trace a line across Topic's barrel. The edge of his hoof wall left a visible trail in the ebony coat. "There's no way I could have ever... been able... to experience that back, well, back before." Topic raised a shining midnight hoof above him and stared at it. For him, seeing his hoof, in place of a hand, grounded him in the reality of what he was, now and forever. It made it not a dream. "I was too uptight back when. Maybe some...body... could have let go like that, trusted... like that... but not me. Not then. But now..." "Now?" Argent lay his foreleg over his special somepony, and closed his eyes, breathing in the rich, warm scent of stallion. "Now, with this pony brain of mine... it can happen at all. And it's amazing. With you... I have no fear. None. I mean nothing at all... apparently!" Both laughed at this. Their weekend had been filled with revelations about each other's bodies, all of them exceedingly exciting, and all of them exceedingly happy. "It's kind of silly, you know." "What is?" Argent shifted to look at his lover, careful as always to avoid giving him an eyeful of horn. Being a unicorn in love with another unicorn required a certain... delicacy. "When I signed up as a RADWICKINS, I was unhappy. I was upset, and I felt very... wronged, really. When the government started doing the mass conversions... it felt like the stories of old fascist America during the Austerity War, or maybe Germany before it. Being rounded up, put in camps, sprayed down, all of that. Suddenly being dumped in Equestria, hauled in by the cartload, just as the last of the Earth was gobbled up. Pony, that was some time." Topic lowered his hoof and gently stroked Argent's foreleg. "Why did you wait so long? I was doused by the PER a full year before zero point, but they didn't start the round-ups until the last months. Trying to get the Big Scoop on the end of the world? You must have been in South Africa. You must have seen the whole thing closing in." Argent studied the shape of the dark stallion's head, a shadow against the sunset through the window. "Sterkstroom, just outside of Queenstown. It was the last place to run, the last part of the planet left. Zero Point was just off the coast, and I couldn't afford to be on one of the ships, not even a freighter. It was mighty crowded - not even the worst favela was like it. Standing room only, all waiting for the end, humans from every continent, every culture, all standing on the last patch of Earth." Topic smiled suddenly. "It was the bravest, stupidest, most amazing thing I've ever seen, or probably ever will see. It was like all the humans were just defying the Barrier to burn them. We were all quiet, somber. And then the scoops arrived." "I have no words. Whoa." Argent tried to imagine it. "Still, though... why were you there? You were a reporter even as a human, you must have known - probably better than anypony. Why... why just..." "Stand there, waiting to die? Why didn't I just go to the emergency Bureaus for immediate ponification?" "Yeah... seriously. Wait - were you HLF? Human Liberation Front or something?" Argent felt a slight chill at the notion. Topic chuckled, a deep, warm sound. "No, I wasn't one of those crazy muffins. It wasn't that. Not exactly." "So... tell me! Unless it's... not something you..." "No. No, it's alright. I'll tell you. Fact was, I was scared. Now I wouldn't have admitted that to you back then, if we'd been together - swirl, I couldn't admit it to myself. But I was seriously frightened. I was more terrified of becoming a pony, than of dying. I was afraid I wouldn't be me, I was afraid it would be a sort of living death. I was afraid I..." Topic closed his eyes. It was hard to say. "I was afraid I wouldn't be... a man anymore. Not hu-man, a man. Male. I couldn't equate being a pony with still being male." Argent seemed puzzled "Wait, what? Stallion? Hung like one? Big, strong, horsepower in those engines, thundering herd, all of that? Horses are like... for humans horses have been symbolic penises for pretty much ever. Stallions, anyway. How? You have completely lost me here. Besides..." Argent placed his hoof over Topic's sizable sheath "...come on!" "Yeah, yeah... I know all of that now. Twenty-twenty hindsight." Hot Topic looked down and grinned. "Fear doesn't always think straight, you know? All that registered for me were all the mares and those princesses on the screens everywhere. In my head it was a girly land of girly things. It was everything I wasn't. That's all I saw." "So that was what was silly, that you thought that way?" Topic gently shook his head. "No, though my fear was silly, I guess. Nearly got me killed. What's silly is being a RADWICKINS member now. I've finally figured out what my problem really was, and it had nothing to do with Celestia, or being converted or anything. The fact of it is that I was lonely. I wanted... you. I wanted what we are now. I did my job, I had success as a stallion in Canterlot, but... I was just plain lonely. That's all, that's everything. I was lonely. I went to the meetings thinking I was mad at being a pony, but I'm not. I just didn't know how to... how to be a pony WITH another pony. And then, I met you. At the meetings." "I think we figured it out." Argent laughed. Hot Topic joined in "Yeah, yeah, I think we did." Bucket galloped backstage, careful not to trip on the jacks and stage braces supporting the flats. He'd done that a couple of times during rehearsals and had gotten glared at. The Royal Canterlot Hall, often called the Starswirl Hall or just The Starswirl, after some famous unicorn scholar that had given lectures there hundreds of years ago, was a large and imposing space. It seated hundreds and the whole of it felt heavy with history. The unicorns, like Argent and Chair claimed that they could sense the layered echos of past performances and lectures emanating from the living rock that made up most of the carved hall. Starswirl Hall had been cut directly into the mountain, the dark gray stone interlaced with seams of jewel and crystal. It was not in the least inexpensive to rent. Over the past eight months, the The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society had grown and grown, the original six founders forming a company of sorts as the whole thing had taken on a life of its own. Royal had naturally assumed the role of star and host, his celebrity had grown to great proportions. Golden Showers had turned the management of his shower installation business over to a colt that had served as his office assistant, he had become the producer and manager of the RADWICKINS ENTERTAINMENT GROUP, keeping an eye on the franchising as the society had expanded. A large staff now took care of countless details under Golden's command. Bucket had been placed into the position of stage manager early on, mostly because nopony else would take it at the time. It was better than pulling dung carts - barely, he had thought at the beginning - but Bucket found he had a genuine talent for keeping things under control. His saddlebags were filled with his prompt book, blocking sheets, and schedule, among other things, and the only real problem he had was that he wasn't that physically coordinated a pony. His efforts were not celebrated, because he did them so well nopony paid much attention, but he was aware nothing would get done without his efforts. Bucket's life had changed dramatically. Where before he had reeked of dung and sweat, now he stank of perfumed soaps and even more sweat as he was forced almost every day to charge about making sure that the show could go on. His life was rehearsals, last minute disasters being averted narrowly, and meetings - endless, endless meetings. In many ways he was working far harder as a stage manager than he ever had pulling a dung cart, and even though the pay was exponentially larger, he was often too exhausted to spend the impressive sum he pulled in every week. Bucket ate at the best restaurants in Canterlot now - there was no time to cook his own food - and he lived in a splendid apartment in a beautiful tower overlooking the flat river valley below, though he had no time to actually enjoy the view. The doorpony of his tower, taking pity on him as he dragged his weary body through the doors after a particularly difficult day, asked him why he didn't find something less stressful to do. He could only sigh and repeat the most ancient of answers "What? And give up show biz?" Bucket had wanted a more glamorous life than pulling a dung cart. Now that he had it, now that he was part of something that was the hit of Equestria, he found himself more than once thinking of those calm, slow, dung-cart days. He hadn't realized just how much free time he had enjoyed back then, and he felt sad that he had not taken more advantage of it all. He loved his new position, he appreciated his new pay and the importance of his responsibilities - and sometimes, he even commanded respect now - but... there were no more picnics out in green fields, eating the natural feast that grew everywhere, for free. "O-kay... THUNDER ROAD! Where is that consarned feathery... Thunder!" Bucket whipped out one of his many logs and books "Is everything ready with the chariot?" Thunder Road had been forced to give up half of her regular schedule to be available for shows. It paid better, but sometimes she missed doing the lightning tours. "We're still having problems with the door. It sticks!" "WHERE'S THE CARPENTER?" Oddly, it wasn't Chair - Chair and Honeybutter were now strictly performers, their singing act splitting time between the RADWICKINS and various concerts and traditional musical theatre. Bucket paced nervously around, his hooves stomping in frustration. "CARPENTER!" it was going to be rough night, it seemed. Starswirl Hall was packed, scrunching room only, with ponies on pillows and ponies on ponies and ponies in the balconies and half-price pegasai tickets hovering next to the chandeliers. The pegasai set their drinks and popcorn in the Chandelier cages, where it mostly didn't fall on the full-price audience below. The hovering ponies served the show indirectly - their constantly beating wings circulated the air very nicely. For that reason, in addition to half-price tickets, they also got their first popcorn free and three free servings of cider to keep them hydrated. Now there was no question that the audience was almost entirely native born ponies. There simply weren't enough Newfoals in the Canterlot area to even begin to account for the crowd. If every Newfoal in the region had come, they still would not have filled but a quarter of the seats. Looking out at the filled hall, his nose poking out between folds of curtain, Royal chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Still, it was the most wonderful thing ever for him. He had found his calling - the star-shaped cutie mark that had appeared during their debut in the ancient hall seemed to indicate that. All the wealthiest and most elite of Canterlot were here - attending the RADWICKINS had become quite the thing. 'Down With Celestia!', why it was scandalous, exciting, daring, and simply all the rage. These Newfoals were quite the entertainers, and the strange Earthling style of the whole thing was positively mesmerizing. It was new, trendy, and oh-so-hip. Royal looked up at the leftmost Royal Balconies. There she was. Once again. A dark unicorn mare in an embroidered cloak. She, whoever she was, had followed them from early on, always in the background, mysterious. She had been quickly joined by two others, one possibly her maid, and another pink and white unicorn, also in an elaborate cloak. The dark mare had taken to shouting 'HUZZAH!' at sometimes inappropriate moments, only to be counseled by her compatriots. The cider concession was run ragged by them whenever they attended. On the right side of the hall, in the other Royal Balconies sometimes sat a quiet and pale unicorn mare, tall and dignified. She too wore a splendid cloak, and never ordered anything but tea. Nopony saw her come or go, though the price of her ticket was always paid. Canterlot was a city of mysteries, intrigues and very strange ponies, thought Royal. He pulled his head back and prepared for his entrance. "MARES AND STALLIONS, FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!" Bitsworth, with his rich and dulcet tones had been elevated from butler to announcer, though he still butled... it was in his blood. "THE TIME HAS COME TO RECOGNIZE THE BURDEN OF THE UNDERCLASS, THE UNAPPRECIATED, THOSE DESPERATE EXILES FROM A LOST WORLD, THE NEWFOALS!!!" Massive cheers erupted as the ancient halls, once home to staid, traditional Equestrian productions reverberated with the shouts and thunder of an audience unlike that of any other age. The human-styled performance had encouraged human-styled responses, and the ponies screamed with excitement and stomped in expectation. The great velvet curtains parted as the lights dimmed. In the orchestra pit, the fourteen musicians began with a perky drum gambit, rising into the theme song, a terrestrial swing version of the motto. More than half of the audience sang along, at the top of their lungs "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation..." Saxophones and horns met the violins as the motto reached its conclusion. "...The RADWICKINS gallop toward what's right!" Bitsworth smiled - it was his motto, after all - and spoke into the Bevelmeiter-powered sound system "THE REASONABLY ADAMANT DOWN WITH CELESTIA NEWFOAL SOCIETY, STARRING ROYAL PAINE WITH HIS GUESTS DJ PON-3, FASHION EXPERT HOITY TOITY, SEXY WONDERBOLT SPITFIRE, AND FEATURING A PERFORMANCE BY EVERYPONY'S FAVORITE MUSICAL GROUP LYRA AND THE FINGERS!!!" As the music swelled, broke, and reduced to a thrumming drumbeat, a shining red carriage pulled by Thunder Road swooped in and spun slowly down to land on the vast stage. Waving a hoof from inside was Royal, who upon landing tried to open the door. It stuck. He banged on it while the audience roared. Backstage, Bucket threw a fit, but the sound of laughter and applause pulled him out of it - Royal had chosen to slide out of the carriage window ass-end first, landing in a completely undignified lump. It was hilarious! The audience loved it. Bucket threw up his forehooves and shrugged with his ears. Showbiz. Behind his sleek desk - the old podium had burst into fragments months ago during a particularly hard pounding - Royal straightened his tie, a move that was now an audience favorite. The fashion had caught on, and it was considered the height of funny to tug at one's tie in awkward moments now. He looked uncomfortable, and adjusted his tie a second time. The audience howled. He began yanking at it with both hooves, finally ending up disheveled but content. The audience roared. Assistants ran to comb his mane and tidy him as he stood up and walked to the front of the stage to begin his monolog. "Welcome, welcome everyONE!" The prizes for catching him slipping had ended long ago, but the thrill had never stopped. The crowd still tried to see if they could get the hidden 'Everypony' he would carefully slip in. Royal fretted constantly about the proper moment for a good 'everypony' and only his writing team could calm him down. "Have you seen the news lately? Seriously, I mean, NOTHING - on Earth, it would have been 'radioactive contamination kills millions' but here? ICE CREAM TASTES GOOD! PONY SCIENTISTS DISCOVER THE SECRET BEHIND IT ALL - SUGAR AND CREAM!" The native ponies, unable to comprehend entirely, found this stuff hilarious. "And how about that 'Fancy Pants' huh?" Up in the left Royal Balcony, there was a gasp followed by a HUZZAH! "I see you have heard of the stallion then?" Roaring laughter filled the hall "So, 'Fancy Pants' huh? WHERE DOES THAT COME FROM? I DON'T THINK THAT COLT'S EVER WORN PANTS IN HIS LIFE! Does he even know what pants ARE? SERIOUSLY!" A spotlight panned down to show the eponymous celebrity in the audience, laughing. He stood up briefly, and gave a wave. "And look! NO PANTS!" The audience howled again, followed by the stomping of hooves in pony applause. Fancy, ever the good sport, sat down, and the spotlight returned to the stage. Royal fiddled briefly with his collar "Alright, alright, settle down you former apes!" This always got a huge laugh. "What? Should I toss you a banana? Hmmmmm? Are you a.... baboon... who loves... bananas?" Almost nopony knew what a baboon was, primates other than Man had not survived the expansion of Equestria, but the word sounded funny. "Maybe you'd like a banana... ON THE MOOOOOONNNN!!!!" The crowd loved this bit, it had become a regular gag. "And speaking of THE ALMIGHTY CELESTIA..." Oohs and shudders filled the crowd as the devilish delight of mocking the princess herself both frightened and thrilled them "...what other things has she put on the moon... hmmm... let's see... HER SISTER PERHAPS?" Nervous screams of laughter burst forth. Mixed with them was a surprisingly slurred HUZZAH!!! from the upper left Royal Balcony, along with a single hoof hammering like a judge. "What a GREAT princess there, am I right? She can raise the very SUN, construct all of Equestria out of the chaos of Discord, but she forgets where she put her sister for ONE THOUSAND YEARS!" Amidst the laughs was the sound of some pony choking on cider from somewhere up in the Royal Balconies. "DOWD WIF SSSELEFSFIA! HUZZAHHH!" screamed a well-cidered mare from above. The crowd howled at this naked sacrilege - it was what they had come to see. "WHOA!!!! Look out! WE'RE IN TROUBLE NOWWW!" Royal pretended he was filled with terror, and fiddled with his collar and tie like a madpony. "But seriously folks, it's all in good fun, right? It's not like our sweet and beloved princess of the sun INVADED OUR MUFFIN PLANET!" a gasp of shock followed by nervous cackles washed around the hall like a wave. Royal waited a few beats before continuing. "Well every...ONE, we have a great show for you tonight. Canterlot DJ TO THE STARS PON-3!" Massive applause followed. "We'll hear about the latest fashions from fashion expert HOITY TOITY!" Polite applause rippled around the hall. "A pegasus I'm sure everypony would like to get private flying lessons from, SPITFIRE!!!" Thunderous stomping sounded forth. "AND SPECIAL MUSICAL GUEST... wait for it... I said wait for it... LYRA AND THE FINGERS!!!" Insane screams of ecstatic joy were drowned out by a stamping of hooves that threatened to bring Canterlot Castle and the entire mountain down on their collective polls. Lyra's new record, "New World New Foals" was at the top of the charts. All of her bandmates were Newfoals from earth, and getting her had been a fantastic decision on the part of Golden. It couldn't be more perfect. This was going to be a great show. "You know, we've permanently changed Equestrian culture! Think about it!" Royal was sitting next to Chair as the makeup crew cleaned them up to go home. Because of the nature of the product needed for a species with a coat, it was a necessary task. "All the boffins were terrified that nothing of Earth would survive. All the electronics all the technology... but none of that matters. We have magic in Equestria - computers and motorcycles are worse than useless in a universe like this. Besides, if the best humanity had to show for itself was a pile of junk, what was the point even if Equestria hadn't shown up?" Some of the blush on his cheek wouldn't come out of the hairs. The artists went to get the special cream. "Seriously, Chair, look at what DID survive! I say it's the best of humanity. Our music survived! Our band is playing jazz, swing, and thanks to Lyra, rock and roll! Those things survived because they were in US! We couldn't bring stuff into Equestria, but... what was good about humanity wasn't stuff!" "Movies made it, at least old ones from the museums, on celluloid. And records, vinyl got through the Barrier." The artist working on Chair asked him to tilt his head back so she could get under his chin. He needed lightening there, or his jaw looked too large on stage. "That's not stuff! Well, it IS stuff, in that film is stuff and vinyl is stuff, but... the stuff isn't the important part." Royal's makeup artist was back, busily applying cheek cream. "The important part of either of those is the music and the film itself, the movies themselves. The media doesn't matter, the substrate doesn't matter, what matters is the information, the pattern, the art!" "The records don't sound quite the same, you know. And the movies look strange because of the way light works in Equestria. It's kind of the same, but it's not exactly the same." Chair had to shift on his pillow, his tail was trapped. "So? So what? So 'Spike Jones and the City Slickers' or 'Huey Lewis and the News' sound more like ponies than humans somehow, or the colors in 'Ghostbusters' aren't exactly the way your human eyes saw them. Seriously, who gives a muffin? The essence is still there. The meaning is still there, even if some things are different. And the same is true of our shows here... we may be ponies, but we are keeping the spirit of the best of Man alive through music, and comedy and... and.. song." With the last, Royal nodded at his friend Chair. Chair could not have imagined, nine months ago, that he would end up not making furniture, but performing with his wife doing ballads and duets from old Earth. "You know..." Chair stood up, his coat finally free of theater makeup "...it's like magic. Our success, I mean. I guess Equestria really is a land of magic - we could never have had this on Earth. Not a hope. But here... it's almost like magic!" "It is magic, my little ponies." Chair, Royal, and the makeup crew instinctively fell to the floor in clumsy bows. It was Celestia, ruler of all Equestria, goddess of the sun, princess of their universe, and she was backstage.
2. They whose jimmies have been rustledThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance2. They whose jimmies have been rustled Bucket looked at the hard-packed dirt road as he pulled his cart. It was a large and heavy cart, and what it was filled with could loosely be called soil. 'Night Soil', Bucket vaguely recalled. Yeah, that was it. Night soil. His load was a loaded load of load. And it was full of it. So was that fancy purple stallion with the whipdy-dipdy golden mane. He was full of it, and so were all the rest of those overly wealthified ponies at the meeting. Especially that Showers colt. 'Oh no no no... nothing so crass as bits!' Tain't nothin' wrong with bits. Especially if a stallion didn't have that many in the first place. But the society was the only place Bucket knew to go. He felt cheated, and he wanted some amends made, preferably in neat, golden stacks. All the time he was on Earth, slaving away at his janitorial job in the nanotech factory, he'd heard and seen all the propaganda about Equestria. Brand new world. Green and lush. Plenty of sunshine and flowers. Everypony is your friend, and the food is the best and Celestia only knows what all else. That ain't exactly how things turned out. Oh, Equestria was green and lush and all, that part was right enough. And he was sure that the food was great, provided a pony could afford to buy some. At his wages, he was lucky to get a doughnut every day and a pie on the weekend. The rest of the time he did what all poor ponies did, he went out and grazed. Grass grew everywhere, along with flowers, herbs, and fruit, so it wasn't like he was going to ever go hungry - fact was, he was packin' on a few pounds. He had a thing for pie, he knew it. But swirls, what else was a pony of his... occupation... supposed to do? It wasn't like the mares were beating down his door. And it also wasn't like there was anything on the holovision to watch - because there weren't no darn holovision in the first place! The bare fact of it was, ain't nopony done showed him how to BE a pony, exactly. What did ponies do for fun, anyhow? How was he supposed to spend his time when he wasn't sleepin', eatin' or doin' his job? It wasn't like he didn't have a nice place to live, or food to eat. It was just... he pulled a dung cart, and while that needed doin', it weren't exactly glamorous. Bucket figured that, if he only had a big pile of bits like the others at the meetin' had, life as a pony would probably be pretty good. He felt strong, he felt healthy as a... no, he weren't doin' that joke again. Nopony laughed at that joke no more. But he felt healthy, that was sure enough. He never had muscles like he had now. He was built like a Britt Shickhouse, and that weren't no joke - once, just to see, he had bucked a tree right over, roots and all. It was like bein' Superman, only a pony. Superpony. Now that was a thought. If he were a pegasus, he could even fly. But he weren't. Bucket was an earthpony. Sometimes that was mighty helpful, though. The berries'd grow back almost as fast as he could eat them. Probably another reason he was gettin' a little heavy, even if it didn't show none. Well, maybe as muscles. Maybe it weren't fat, maybe pullin' that heavy cart was the answer, and he was just gettin' muscles on his muscles. In any case, he was weighin' more on that scale they had in the store. Canterlot was a convoluted old city. Twisty roads and tunnels through the mountain, all kinds of secret paths and whatnot. It had really strained his noggin the first weeks just trying to memorize his daily route. Smarter. Yep. He felt smarter too. But he still felt cheated. Equestria had been sold as some kinda paradise, and he had ended up pullin' a dung cart and eatin' pie on the weekends, and there had to be more to life than that in paradise. So he'd up and joined those rich ponies little society. Somehow, he hoped, some of those bits might just rub off on him. He weren't really all that upset he was a pony, but they sure were, and it weren't nothin' to kinda... join in. Bucket tried not to think of the other night, when he'd bothered to go to the local salt bar and see if he could meet somepony. He'd found what he thought were a right nice mare, but the moment he started talkin' about his job, that was plumb it. Good bye and don't let the barn door hit ya where your tail comes out. All he'd done was try to explain the different kinds of soil. There was the big round lumps and the small, kinda sticky lumps, and the green ones that smelled like wet hay, and the sorta yellow-y brown lumps that were hard as rocks and he couldn't figure out what the cinnamon some ponies done been eatin' to make somethin' like that. It was basic, factual stuff, educational, even, and he'd been hard pressed to figure out why the cute filly had needed to take a permanent powder. It was not that much different than his job at the nanotech factory back when he'd been a human. Night soil went in, and food and clothing came out. Also building materials. Wasn't quite as direct, here in Equestria. The night soil had to get made into compost, then put in a field, and then plants had to grow, and then you had to harvest stuff and... it was pretty inefficient, all things considered. Humans had done it better. Poop goes in, meal bar comes out. It's all just molecules! But the pony way weren't so bad, really. Plants was pretty, and they tasted good - better than meal bars, to tell the honest truth. Loads better. To be truly honest, Bucket didn't think he could choke down a meal bar now, if any had existed anymore. Bucket reckoned that maybe the inefficiency had a point to it, really. Bucket waited while the compost forecolt unhitched him from the cart. It was in place now, and could be tipped into the heap. While Bucket waited, he tried to figure out if he could afford another Oatburger meal to take to the meetin' tonight. Tonight was supposed to be important, a plannin' meetin', so they could decide whatever it was they were fixin' to ultimately do. All-grain patties. Now that was eatin'! Royal was at the podium, his immaculate hooves hammering at the tough wood to get the ponies to hush up. It took longer, this time, because there were more now. Golden had brought his third butler, a native pony named Bitsworth who was very busy butling about, attending his employer. Royal had felt some concern about a native Equestrian being allowed in, but Golden Showers would hear none of it - his third butler was loyal and dependable and also his favorite, and in any case could be trusted absolutely. Royal had tried to point out that the focus of the society was 'Down With Celestia', something a native might reasonably be expected to take some serious umbrage at, but again Golden had reiterated the overwhelming discretion and trustworthiness of Bitsworth, and in any case there was no point in rebellion unless one could do it in comfort. While Bitsworth trotted off to get the well-padded Golden another basket of aged cider and a plate of fine cheeses, Royal studied the other new ponies that had arrived. Chair had brought his wife and foals, because he couldn't bear to be apart from them, and apparently they were curious about 'his new playmates'. His wife, Honeybutter, was also a native Equestrian, but Chair had claimed that he had her full support in everything. Also, he wouldn't come if she wasn't welcome. Royal had just shaken his head - after Chair's impassioned complaint that his free human life had been replaced with domestic bliss against his will, it was beyond logic how any of this could possibly work out well... but what the hay. Chair's foals, Daisy Dew and Wildweed were seriously cute, but they needed to quiet down. They liked singing overly happy songs a little too loudly for Royal's taste - worse, Hot Topic and Argent had joined in, and it was entirely getting out of control. Especially since they had started clapping their hooves together in time to the beat. "HEY! HEY! ALRIGHT! EVERYPONY... gah - EVERYBODY - SETTLE DOWN NOW!" Royal hammered his sparkling hooves down like hammers. The sound was lost in the clapping and singing. "NEIGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" It was an instinctive, animal sound, but it was also as loud as Royal could possibly be. It worked. Argent, Topic and the foals looked up, frozen in place, surprise on their muzzles. Bitsworth remained unaffected, as he continued to pour cider for a startled Golden. Chair and Honeybutter looked at each other, then up at the podium. Bucket swallowed his bite of oatburger without remembering to chew first, and ended up in a coughing fit for several minutes. After a long guzzle of melonade, he was finally stabilized. "Ahem!" Royal liked all the eyes trained on him, waiting expectantly. This felt like the old days, on Earth, with the board of directors waiting for orders from their chief. Oh, yeah, this was the stuff. Royal gave his golden, shining mane a toss. Yeah. Definitely the stuff alright. "Welcome, everypony to the..." "EVERYBODY!" Even Bitsworth, Honeybutter and the foals joined in. It was like they had rehearsed. "Um... yes. EVERYBODY..." Royal reached a hoof up to straighten a nonexistent collar, an old habit from his human days. Sheepishly, he put his hoof down. "Welcome to the second meeting of the..." "THE REASONABLY ADAMANT DOWN WITH CELESTIA NEWFOAL SOCIETY!" the assembled group intoned, as loudly and clearly as they could. Then they started giggling, because, well, it had been remarkably fun doing that, actually. Especially with the look on Royal's muzzle after the intonation was done. Honeybutter needed some time to get the foals settled down again - they wanted to shout it a second time. "Ah... yes." Once again Royal found his hoof at the side of his neck, sure enough, there was no collar and no tie. Maybe he needed to start wearing a tie, just to have something to fiddle with. "I suppose we all know why we are here, then?" Golden Showers gave his butler a wave with his hoof, from his position reclining on a pile of silken pillows. Bitsworth cleared his throat and began to recite. "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation, To denounce the evils of ponification, To demand respect and full restitution, We are The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society! We bring the news of the Newfoal's plight, Celestia respect! or prepare to fight. The RADWiCkiNS gallop toward what's right!" The haughty butler cleared his throat, then turned back to seeing if his employer required more exquisite cheeses and imported carrots. "RADWICKINS!" Royal somehow squeaked when he repeated the acronym. "Are you serious?" "Just something Bitsworth here tossed off when I explained our little group to him. Rather good job, don't you think?" Golden smiled at his trusted butler, who returned the compliment with a proud nod. Royal stared open-mouthed at the plump, bright yellow earthpony ensconced in his fortress of silky pillows. Golden stretched his neck to sip at some cider. Royal's eyes rolled to Bitsworth, waiting patiently by his employer's side. Bitsworth gave a little, dismissive flick of his tail and a short flick of his ears - a pony shrug. Royal slowly closed his mouth. Maybe there was more anti-Celestia sentiment in Equestria than he imagined. It was not something he would have considered possible in all of the four years he had lived here, since the end of the Earth. Nopony ever expressed anything except praise and absolute love for the princesses. Was Bitsworth secretly a Newfoal? That seemed unlikely too. Royal shook his mane. Back to business. "Well, that was... fantastic... Bitsworth. Showers." Royal wished he had thought to bring a cup of water to the podium. He would have to remember for next time. "Still... Radwickins?" "Is it not proper to add vowel sounds to complex acronyms in order to make them pronounceable, sir?" Bitsworth was ever so proper in his manner. "Yes... I suppose it is." Royal hadn't a clue about such things, but it certainly seemed as if Golden's butler was on the ball. "Radwickins it... is, then. I suppose." Somehow the name did not seem as impressive as Royal had hoped. He made another mental note to consider acronyms in the future. Water cup, acronyms, he repeated in his mind. "OOH! OOH! I have an idea for what we could do!" It was Chair's wife, Honeybutter. Royal decided to roll with things - if a native butler could write the society motto, then he might as well hear out Chair's native-born wife. "The chair recognizes Honeybutter. Continue." "Huh?" Honeybutter looked perplexed. "Do I look strange?" Royal felt very confused. "Do you look strange?" "I don't know! Do I?" Honeybutter glanced at her husband, worried. "I don't think you look strange! Why would you say my wife looks strange?" Chair glared at Royal. "I... never!" Royal moved straight from confused to befuddled. "I never said your wife looked strange!" "Not in so many words..." Honeybutter considered the situation. She turned again to her husband "Do you know who I am?" Chair blinked, not comprehending any of this. "Huh?" "Do you know who I am?" Honeybutter seemed very concerned now. "You're my wife. Of course I know who you are!" Chair was feeling frustrated by this, a sentiment shared by many at the meeting. "Why wouldn't I know who you are?" "Well," Honeybutter pointed an accusing hoof at the podium. "HE doesn't seem to think so!" Royal decided that befuddled was insufficient and nearly stripped his gears moving up into confounded. "I have NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!" Argent looked over at Topic, who shrugged with his ears. Thunder Road started to say something, but then fell silent. Bitsworth wisely kept out of it all, and concentrated on searching through his basket for more cheese for Golden. Golden for his part nervously studied his cider. This was beyond him. Bucket thought he had the answer, but reckoned they'd all just glare at him, so he decided to stick his muzzle into the fry bag to see if there were any more hay fries in there. "Listen, Royal." Chair was staring intently at the deep purple earthpony "If my wife says you don't think I can recognize her, then that's what happened." Royal swallowed, his throat dry. He couldn't afford anypony getting upset and leaving - the society had just begun. Suddenly, he had an inkling, and his confoundment went down two levels to mere confusion again. "Honeybutter!" Royal put on his best smile for her "Tell me exactly what you think I said, please." Honeybutter thought for a moment, and then spoke. "You asked me if my husband knew who I was!" Suddenly it all made sense. Confusion was repealed in favor of understanding. "No, no!" Royal laughed. "I said 'The chair recognizes you...'" "Well of course I do! She's my wife!" Chair was even more upset. "No, no, NO!" Royal's head was getting that pounding feeling in the left temple. "The CHAIR! THE CHAIR RECOGNIZES YOU!" "AND WHY WOULDN'T I?" Chair had stood up now, and his jaw was locked in place, teeth showing, ears flat against his skull. "AUGHHHH!" Royal turned away from the podium and walked towards the wall behind it. He waited a moment in the nervous silence, then returned. "Wait, calm down, everypony, please." "EVERYBODY!" the yell was almost deafening, and it set the room giggling and laughing. Royal found himself unable to speak for several minutes, every time he tried he began laughing again. "He means the chairpony of the meetin'." Bucket finally decided to say something. Nopony would glare at him if they were laughing like that. "It's Robert's Rules Of Order, from back on ol' Earth. Th' Chairpony runs the meetin' and recognizin' is the way that other ponies get to talk!" There, that ought to finally get some respect. Ten pairs of eyes glared down at Bucket. It was hardest seeing the glare from the foals. Yep, thought Bucket, that was definitely the worst. Bucket felt stupid for speaking up. He should have known better. Argent and Topic tried not to look at each other, they felt stupid because it was so muffin obvious now, and they should have spoken up. Daisy Dew and Wildweed felt stupid because they had no clue what was going on, but mostly they didn't like the way Bucket smelled. Chair felt stupid because he felt like his name had been made fun of, somehow. He wasn't sure how. Honeybutter felt stupid because she had caused a big fuss in front of her husband's friends. Showers felt stupid because something had happened, and he realized he really hadn't been paying much attention. Thunder Road felt stupid because she hadn't figured it out, and she thought she should have. Royal felt very stupid for letting the whole thing get out of hoof. He was supposed to be the chairpony - PERSON - here, and he was not living up to his own expectation. Bitsworth didn't feel the least bit stupid. He had shut the swirl up, and came out smelling like a rose. Little smartie! Bucket looked down. Bucket always looked down. Royal stomped his hoof on the podium, giving three short raps. "Well, now, shall we return to the matter at hoof? Er... hand? Hoof. No use denying reality. Definitely hoof." He was losing them. "Honeybutter! You said you had an idea as to what we could do?" "Um...." Honeybutter looked around nervously. "I do. If my husband recognizes me, of course." Giggles rippled around the room. Chair stood up. "Chair recognizes his wife." More giggles. "And she's real pretty, too." That filled the room with choruses of 'D'awwww..." and Honeybutter leaned over for a quick smooch. "Thank you, tight flanks." Chair managed a rather fetching shade of red at that. Royal's neck was getting bruised from his hoof digging into it. A tie. There had to be a shop that sold ties somewhere in Canterlot. "SO...." Royal shifted his rear hooves. It was very uncomfortable to stand up on hind legs for so long. "What was your idea, Honeybutter?" Honeybutter stepped near the front of the podium and looked around the room. "I was thinking that... well..." Every pony in the room leaned forward, expectantly. Finally, a plan. Some action. A way to achieve their goals. "It just sort of came to me, really..." Honeybutter looked like she had a clear vision, a well considered concept. "After, you know, noticing how warm the evenings have become..." It was absolutely true. The evenings had become warmer, ever since winter had been wrapped up several weeks ago. It had been a major task, because the pegasai had been behind again, and the winter had needed to be a hard one to catch up. But the pegasai had overdone things, and so this summer was expected to be especially warm as a result. Those darn pegasai. "Yessss????" The room collectively held it's breath, everypony ready for the revelation to come. Honeybutter smiled, a big, warm Equestrian smile. "I figured... we could all go get ice cream together!" The room exploded in happy, excited clopping and clapping of hooves. Smiles met smiles and grins faced down smiles forcing the smiles to upscale into full grins just to keep pace. It was at that precise moment that the hoots and hollers returned to claim their rightful place in the scheme of things. "ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!" it was, after all, the perfect summer treat. Royal hung his head. There was nothing for it, the will of the ponies had spoken. The first official act of the RADWICKINS had been determined. They all headed out into the warm sweet-smelling night, diamond stars glittering above in the perfect sky, intent on bringing the tyranny of Celestia down through the time-tested subversion of ice cream. Later, with sticky hooves, little Daisy Dew put it into perspective "Bestest revo... revu... rebel-vol-ution EVER!" Then she buried her muzzle in strawberry and sprinkles.
3. The ineffable horror of absent digitsThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance3. The ineffable horror of absent digits Argent struggled with his latest review, a quill, freshly dipped, floating within his tightly held thaumatic field. He had found himself naturally talented with telekinesis almost the moment that he had awakened from the attack. The 'Ponification for the Earth's Rebirth', the PER, had blasted open the wall of the Fetal Reclamation Center where Argent had worked in his human life. One moment, he had been sitting at a console, adjusting nutrients for the slurry of cells recently harvested from unhappily pregnant favela dwellers - each of which had gotten a small sum of credits for their troubles, they called it the 'Pot Belly Lottery' - and the next he was waking up as a silvery unicorn stallion with the most exquisite, theatre-red mane. His talents first showed themselves when he almost absently ripped away the constraining jumpsuit that bound his four new legs, and when he discovered he could hover almost an inch off the floor for seconds at a time, he was ecstatic. That is how the Blackmesh had found him, laughing and gliding across the cell-tank enclosure showroom like the old Pre-Collapse movie star Tom Cruise in the ancient 2D 'Risky Business'. Argent had deliberately kept his underwear on to reenact the scene - he was quite the fan of old media from before the Nano Age. Suddenly his regimented corporate life was gone. He had been shipped off to Equestria without even a stop at a Bureau, and suddenly found himself in the spotlight. It was an accident - he happened to be in a herd of recently arrived Newfoals waiting to be processed when the two princesses of Equestria passed by, ostensibly to inspect the relocation process. Apparently two years previously there had been some... trouble... with a renegade pegasus stranding Newfoals out in the middle of nowhere, and regular tours were now part of the princesses routine. It was early evening, and Princess Luna had been telling her sister about her new-found appreciation of human media. The only forms that could survive passing through the barrier had been non-electronic, and that left preserved celluloid films and vinyl records for the most part. Luna was trying to remember the name of a film she had particularly enjoyed and found relevant. It was about a group of human colts who had mysterious dreams about the human magic of electronics, and ended up building a conveyance out of collected bits and pieces. The young colts, barely yearlings really, had the hope of achieving great discoveries as they soared out among the stars - a section Luna particularly approved of - only to find, in the end, that the great beings of the sky were just foals, like themselves. In the end, deep and permanent friendships were established between the two species. Luna just couldn't remember the name. Argent had found himself out of line and in front of the princess before he had even thought about what he was doing. Nopony liked the things he liked, and finally... well finally he had found somepony, anypony. Forgetting to even bow, he had heard himself blurt out "EXPLORERS - 1985, human calender, directed by Joe Dante, written by Eric Luke! It starred Ethan Hawke, River Phoenix and Bobby Fite, not to mention the incredible Robert Picardo among others. Often overlooked, this gem of 80's cinema captured perfectly the foalhood dream of adventure and the joy of discovering purpose in the world, all while underscoring the timeless and universal theme of true friendship!" In that moment of shocking disregard for station and social convention, Argent's life had been determined. He had felt the musical sting on his flank, only to turn and find the image of an old-fashioned film reel shining there. What happened after was a blur, but it somehow ended up sitting with the princess of the night in her tower in the castle, watching and discussing old movies from Earth for nearly a week. When next Argent was able to assess himself, it was a month later. He had taken an Equestrian name, and he was now the creme de la creme of critics, with a schedule full of plays and musicals to attend and review. He had been reduced to having his maid pile the gifts that arrived for him from hopeful starlets in a closet that was perilously overfull, and he had been forced to hire an accountant because his wealth had exceeded his ability to deal with it. The number of parties and functions required a secretary, and soon he realized that in critiquing celebrity, he had become a celebrity himself. But this was not enough. Argent found a deep longing inside him, something he could neither understand nor give name to. He lacked for nothing, really, yet he felt alone and lost in the world. When Royal had scheduled a meeting with him, he had expected another demand to change his review score. Instead, Argent had found another stallion who shared his feeling of discontent, and seemed to have a scheme to solve it. Without a clue as to what was bothering him, Argent the unicorn critic had become a RADWICKINS. He found himself looking forward to the meetings far more than any party or social event among the upper tiers of Canterlot. "YES! YES!! We will be having a treat at the end, but I have to tell you... it isn't ice cream!" The groans and sounds of pony disappointment practically shook the walls. It had been a month and a half now of weekly meetings, and the membership had grown at an astounding rate. Royal didn't even have a clear concept of how many RADWICKINS there were, now. There were ponies lined up, outside the door - inside, the rented meeting hall had become a sauna that had required the services of pegasai and clouds and windows and things Royal didn't really understand. All he knew is that it cooled things off. "Alright... alright..." Royal could feel his damnable pony brain forcing him to not allow other ponies to suffer even mock disappointment. "...I have to say this much..." He really did feel like he had to say it "...there IS ice cream involved. But it's a surprise!" The roof-shaking cheers and hoof-claps filled him with unwanted pleasure and joy, and nothing he could do managed to stop the wide grin that spread across his muzzle. It felt like his very soul was bubbling with glee at the thought of how happy everypony would be when the surprise was revealed. Royal sighed. Maybe there was just no fighting it. Especially since he loved chairing these meetings so incredibly much. This was precisely what he had missed from Earth. Feeling important at meetings. Every week, he was the center of attention, the master of ceremonies, the focus of every eye, and... he loved it. Perhaps it was a small sacrifice to give up the staid and grim businesscolt facade he once wore, in favor of a certain amount of... showcoltship. "I want to welcome everypony..." Royal grinned wide and waited for it. "EVERYBODY!!!" Loud and excited laughter vibrated the walls. They loved doing that. It never got old. Golden had even arranged for prizes - bits were nothing to him, after all - for anypony that could catch Royal dropping in the word 'anypony' that the crowd missed. The prizes had gotten increasingly valuable, too - last week some third cousin of Honeybutter had won a Bevelmiter Tube powered refrigerator. It didn't use original Bevelmiter's, of course, but the thaumatic engine inside was a beautiful replica. The fridge had even been designed in the style of the time, quite the collector's piece. As a result, Royal had needed to step up his game, and much of his week was spent planning when and how he might drop in the odd 'everypony'. It was an important responsibility. It made for such excitement! "... to the... what is it now, sixth?" Royal turned to Chair, who had become the official recorder for the meetings. His wife, Honeybutter was treasurer. The meetings cost two bits to attend now, they were saving up to rent a larger hall. "Yeah, sixth meeting. Wow, what a crowd tonight, too, huh?" Chair turned to his foals "Havin' fun?" Daisy Dew and Wildweed shouted "ICE CREAM!" Which brought more than a few chuckles from the throng. It was a big crowd tonight. Royal could not recognize most of the faces at all. There seemed to be a few of the Canterlot elite mixed in, but he couldn't be sure. Was that... Fancy Pants? No, couldn't be. He certainly wasn't a Newfoal! And who was that mysterious dark blue unicorn covered in an embroidered cloak? She had to be somepony of status. She definitely had an attendant, a lime green earthpony who looked like a maid. And off in the very back was what could easily have been Royal Guard, off duty. That or body-builders. How many of them were Newfoals anymore? How many even KNEW any Newfoals? Royal tugged at his brand new collar and necktie. He had found a shop on the second tier that made incredibly human-styled collar-and-necktie adornments. They were one piece, and snapped in the back, but they were just what he had wanted. Apparently the fashion had caught on thanks to the Newfoal emigration and the influence of some medical pony, a Newfoal doctor who favored the look. "We have something special, for tonight!" Royal stomped his hoof down loudly. The poor podium had gotten a dent in it from all the banging. "Chair is going to do a new version of his original Newfoal Complaint, this time set to music. Accompanying him is his wife, Honeybutter, in a very special duet. Give a big Canterlot Clop for CHAIR AND HONEYBUTTER! - but first, our MOTTO!" Sweet Luna, how Royal loved all of this. In the corner, the five-piece band started up. The motto had been put to music. "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation, To denounce the evils of ponification..." As the entire crowd sang, Royal gazed contentedly out at them. No meeting back on Earth had ever been like this. He had to face it, he realized. There was no way around it. He had wanted back the feeling of being the head of something important, of running an organization, of talking at a podium to men in suits who hung on his every word. But this was better. Oh, sweet Celestia... this was better. When the motto was done, cheers, hoots and hollers filled the air. The band took a bow, and sat down again, preparing for Chair and Honeybutter's performance. The crowd seemed to love doing the motto. Golden's butler Bitsworth had outdone himself. Royal gave a nod and a hoof wave to Bitsworth, busy attending Golden. Bitsworth gave a slight, professional smile and nod back. He took his butling seriously. The lights dimmed, thanks to the covers that had been installed by a couple of clever unicorns that were... somehow... related to Thunder Road. Spotlights, another recent addition, focused on the couple, now standing in front of the podium. The light jiggled for a moment as one of the lighting pegasai shook the spot so that the lightsprite fireflies inside would wake and turn up the lumens they produced. The packed crowd fell silent as the music began. Daisy Dew and Wildweed looked on in blatant awe at their parents. Chair began to sing, his voice remarkably mellifluous, despite a strangely charming growly edge. (Sung to the tune of 'Winter Wrap Up') [Chair] Three ounces poured upon me And suddenly I'm changed [Honeybutter] I've kept my hoovsies warm at home Until the day you came [Chair] Now the human life I've always known has completely been destroyed [Honeybutter] And though they say you're a Newfoal At least you're well employed [Chair] It's just no use denying things I've traded hooves for hands But it's also time to say goodbye To Earth and all it's lands What can I do? I'm stuck, you see What does everypony do? How do I fit in without fingers? I haven't got a clue! [Choir] Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! The PER splashed me right in my rear Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! [Chair] Now your stallion Chair - [Honeybutter] –is here! [Choir] Now your stallion Chair is here! [Honeybutter] I know you lost your gripping parts Your bipedal gait is through And all your wicked human ways Must change to something new No more floozies, No more credits just gold [Honeybutter and Chair] But when I met you - On being pony I'm sold! [Choir] Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! The PER splashed me right in my rear Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! Now your stallion Chair is here! Potion Cock Up! Potion Cock Up! Now your stallion Chair is here! Now your stallion Chair is here! At the end of the song, the mahogany unicorn stallion and the pale yellow earthpony mare kissed, slowly and romantically, then turned again to the crowd, and bowed. The two weeks of rehearsals had paid off, for the crowd went wild, hoots and hollers being supplanted entirely with deafening stomping of hooves and loud, joyous cheers. The applause went on for some time, and it was everything that Royal could do to regain control of the proceedings, even after two more bows and a reprise of the chorus by the choir. Banging furiously with his hooves, Royal finally regained the attention of the crowd. "Really fantastic, there, Chair, Honeybutter! Wonderful, wonderful!" The two foals in the front beamed at their parents, who had just become royalty in their eyes. As the happy family snuggled together, Royal gave a big smile and tossed his golden mane. "Now every..." An unknown number of eyes suddenly locked onto the podium, glistening in the low lights, every one of them silent, alert, waiting. "...one here can..." An audible soft groan of disappointment rippled through the audience. "...understand something of our plight, as Newfoals, thanks to our own talented Chair and his wife Honeybutter." Chair shifted his rear hooves, putting the weight on one and then the other. It always started to hurt, especially in his flanks, standing unnaturally on his hind legs for so long. "All of us..." Royal seriously doubted that even ten percent of the crowd was Newfoals, but... what the hay, "know the horror of being suddenly taken unawares, in the middle of the street, in our sweatshops, in our workgangs, even in our CORPORATE OFFICES..." Royal stressed the last, because the poor never seemed to appreciate that those in power were equally victims, and always had been "...and suddenly forced into fresh new bodies, long of limb and lifespan both, filled with unexpected powers and infinite potentials, only to be dragged away and thrown like so many sacks of juicy, perfect apples, into the luscious and unutterably beautiful expanses of these green and bountiful lands called Equestria! Why it's a crying SHAME!" Well rehearsed, the audience erupted in loud boos and cries for "JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE!" Royal tried to remain serious, but a grin played about his muzzle. "Surely everyone can see the..." Another round of soft groans of disappointment circled the room. "... dire nature of this insult to our very humanity, an insult nobody can bear, that anyone should be able to sympathize with, that EVERY..." "EVERYBODY!" shouted Bucket "EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY!" Bucket really wanted a refrigerator. Or any appliance. He'd just like to win, anything, even once. "... ONE..." It was a silence as profound as that of the infinite void of intergalactic space back in the old universe, a dark silence just as starlit, only not by burning suns, but by countless glaring, perfect eyes, shining in the lamplight. Bucket looked down. Way down. If he could have looked under the meeting hall floor boards, his head would be in the soil right now. "... can surely comprehend." Royal happily straightened his new tie and collar. What a great fashion accessory! "But understanding our plight as Newfoals is only the first step. We need to take this to the top, and everypony needs to help in that cause. Together we can make even Celestia herself come to heel, and give us WHAT WE DESERVE!" "Everybody." It was a small voice, somewhere in the back, speaking in the momentary silence after Royal's pronouncement. All the faces in the room turned anxiously to follow it. "Everybody!" the tiny voice repeated. It was a small pinto pony foal, with a clear Trottingham accent. "You said 'everypony' and I caught you." The little foal shifted nervously, frightened but determined. "So... 'everybody', fair and square!" "WE HAVE A WINNER!" Royal slammed the battered podium with his somewhat scuffed hooves. "WHAT DO WE HAVE FOR OUR WINNER TONIGHT - GOLDEN SHOWERS, TAKE IT AWAY!" This was Golden's favorite moment. He looked forward to it every meeting, though it didn't happen every meeting. When it did happen, he was filled with such excitement he could barely stand it. Bitsworth helped the portly pony to stand up from his castle of silk pillows. In his haste to rise, Golden accidentally knocked over his tray of cheese and flower pastries. "A WINNER! HOW WONDERFUL!" Bitsworth steadied his employer. "W-what it is your name, my good colt?" The pinto pony blushed at this, he was hardly a colt yet, but it certainly felt very grown-up to be called such. "Pipsqueak, sir! But you can call me Pip! If you want, of course." The crowd softly D'awwwed at this. He really was a little cutie. "Well, Pip, my lad, for your OUTSTANDING catch of tonight's ANTI-HUMANISM, I am PROUD to present to you...." The band knew to do a dramatic drum roll, which they performed with gusto. Golden had waved his hooves high in dramatic gestures, finally pointing to the front left corner of the room, behind and to the side of the podium, where the spotlight pegasai were even now focusing their beams. There, in the corner, was a fabulous velvet curtain of deepest crimson, and everypony there knew what it was for. The drumroll came to a climax. The curtain parted. "A SOLID SILVER DUNG CART!" Oohs and aahs filled the room as Pip's eyes grew as large as dinner plates. Well, larger. It wasn't a full size cart, of course - it was a replica model, only a hoof high by two hooves long. It stood on a black velvet draped platform, sparkling in the light. From somewhere in the room a voice remarkably like Bucket's could be heard apparently having a fit of some kind. "This marvelously ironic work of art comes from the skilled hooves and horn of the master unicorn sculptor August Roandin, and is made from utterly pure, magic-cast draconic silver. The cart wheels are set with diamonds, and the 'load' the cart is carrying consists of spherically carved emeralds - how's that for a game of marbles, my fine colt?" Golden Showers was in his new element now, finding ten times the pleasure from it that he had once gained berating and belittling human underlings in his old life. In this moment, Golden felt like Princess Celestia herself, raising the sun for others, bringing life and light into their lives, and it felt good. Pipsqueak stepped nervously forward, unsure of what to make of the amazing prize. The diamonds were not worth much, of course, they could be found easily in the deserts of Equestria. But silver was another matter, and Pip was bright enough to understand that silver worked into art was worth even more, even if he couldn't understand exactly why. "What's it for?" Golden laughed. "It's for pretty, Pip my pony, and worth more than a pretty penny as well!" Golden saw the perplexed look on the foal's muzzle, and remembered that Equestria didn't use pennies. He couldn't imagine what the colt must be thinking. Quickly he corrected himself "It's worth a fortune, Pip, and now it is yours. Put it in your mansion, and enjoy the delicious irony! It's a dung cart... made out of silver!" This brought huge laughs from the audience, though one voice groaned and growled bakery pastry epithets in the back. Pip just stared at the strange thing. "I don't have a mansion. I live in a little cottage with my..." he was cut off by the mysterious dark blue unicorn in the embroidered cloak and cape. She offered to purchase the little cart from him, for enough bits to assure his future. As the two walked into the dark and the crowd, Pip could be heard saying "Wow! You're always my favoritest..." The crowd closed around them to stare and gawk at the beautiful sculpture. Golden beamed at the attention his latest prize was gathering. This was the best fun ever. Once the fuss had finished over the prize of the evening, Royal once again reared up and pounded the podium. He liked pounding the podium, even if it did look a little worse for wear from his vigorous efforts. Somehow it was just satisfying. CLOP! CLOP! CLOP! The crowd came to attention. "It seems we've run a bit long on time... again..." Royal happily fiddled with his collar-tie "...But we at least have time for our little tradition!" All the ponies in the audience cheered, they knew what was up. "When we think of that castle, high up on the mountain, above all the tiers, the castle that holds She Who Is To Blame, WHAT DO WE SAY?" The crowd giggled nervously. Dare they? Could they just say it out loud like that? Just demand it like that? "Come on... it's why we are here, after all! Don't be shy now...." Royal waited, patiently, the great leader of the new order, marshaling his troops. "Ready? As one now! On three!" The assembled ponies glanced nervously, expectantly around. "One!" The ponies couldn't help but send out a few excited whinnies. "Two!" The voice that had sounded like Bucket had never stopped grumbling. It grumbled still. "ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!!!" Great whoops and cheers threatened to burst the walls as the ice cream trolleys were pushed by Golden's three butlers up and down through the crowd of thrilled ponies. Instead of the usual scoops and cones were tall ice cream cakes with ice cream frosting and rosettes made of sculptured ice cream topped with cherries. The slices were gobbled with delight and satisfaction! Royal had been teasing them at the beginning... it wasn't ice cream - it was ICE CREAM CAKE! Little Daisy Dew once again put it best - "This rebel-fo-lution keeps getting BETTER AND BETTER!" This time she buried her muzzle in chocolate with cherries mixed in.
5. Is statue? It IS you! I thought it was you!Special credits: song selection and lyrics in collaboration with my spouse Aedina.The Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance5. Is statue? It IS you! I thought it was you! Royal followed behind the princess, his hooves tromping softly in the dew drenched night grass. The moon was high in the starlit sky, he found himself surprised to see the princess of the sun during the night. Somehow, he had just expected the two princesses would hoof things off to each other, one sleeping during the day, the other at night, and only being around each other during twilight or morning. Then again, Celestia was rumored to be far, far more than merely an exceptionally large and possibly immortal pony. Walking behind the princess, in the night, was a very intimidating experience. Royal, in his earthly life, had seen images of Celestia in his holoset, on screens, at kiosks and he had wondered about her curious mane and tail, seemingly solid, clearly not made of hair, perpetually waving like a flag in some wind only She could feel. The reality, in front of him, was difficult to look at. Celestia's mane and tail glowed with the light of dawn and sunset combined, rich colors shining off the grass, making the dew sparkle like diamonds of light. He had been drawn to stare into her tail - he was a four-foot tall pony, and Celestia's head had been measured at above eight feet - and found himself frozen in place. His vision passed through the apparent surface of the princess's tail, into infinity, as if he were looking into some distant, ethereal sky. It was not like some holographic trick, he could practically feel summer breezes flowing through that endless space and his mind failed him, trying to interpret what he was really looking at. Celestia had seemed to sense his state, and had stopped and turned her head back, to give him a comforting smile. "Come along, my little pony. It is not far now." Her gentle words, kind and sweet, had calmed him almost immediately, and he found himself plodding along, leaving little indents in the damp ground from the weight of his passing. He had already noticed that Celestia herself, left no hoofprints at all. When he looked up again, he found he was not anywhere near the small greensward that she had led him to, the little park across from Starswirl Hall, but instead found that they were passing through the Royal Maze Gardens. He did not remember walking the long distance up the terraces, through the tunnels carved into the mountain, and finally past the gates of the castle itself at all. They were just somehow... there, in the great garden outside the Royal Maze, as though the lower terrace green was directly connected to the top of the mountain in some impossible way. The hairs of his withers stood tall, an eerie feeling within him. They were passing now through a small forest of statues, each magnificently carved in exquisitely perfect detail. Royal dimly remembered a story that Hot Topic had told him, that there was a rumor that the statues were not truly statues at all, but ancient enemies of the crown and political problems silenced by being turned to stone. In that moment fear gripped Royal's heart as the name of the organization he founded sounded loudly in his mind - RADWICKINS, The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society. 'Down With Celestia', it was right on the marquee, it was on every show program. He mocked the solar princess every performance. "This way, my little pony - I need to address something I have let go on too long." Celestia's voice was sweet as ever, but Royal's blood ran cold in his Newfoal veins. He found his legs weak under him. Ponies didn't kill, ponies never killed - Royal repeated the phrase over and over like a mantra of protection. Ponies didn't kill - but Celestia wasn't properly a pony, was she? She was something else, something far different than a mere pony. What if Topic had been right, what if the rumor was true - being turned to stone wasn't exactly like being killed. It was bloodless, silent, quiet. It could be reversed, Royal had heard of that once. Maybe to the pony mind, being turned to stone was a little excuse, a kind of soft-murder that didn't actually kill so that made it all right somehow... 'Down With Celestia' - could he have been any more blatant? Stupid, stupid, stupid... "Are you all right?" Celestia had stopped. Royal had nearly run into her, barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with that shimmering, glowing tail - or more likely, stepping through it to fall forever in some endless, aching void of light and color. The thought made him feel queasy. Royal stepped back and instinctively looked into the eyes of the princess addressing him. That was a mistake. The last of his courage failed him against that unearthly, agelessly placid face, and devoid of restraint, he involuntarily lost control of his bladder. Royal was shaking now, ashamed and terrified, the smell of his own wet rising from the steaming ground. He could not help it, his legs trembling wildly, he began to cry. Large tears slid down his dark purple muzzle and fell upon the close-cropped grass. He felt warmth along his neck and shoulder and barrel. Then it was across his back, melting his raised withers. Celestia was comforting him, her long, elegant neck and perfect head gently stroking him, nuzzling him. The smell of his shame had somehow vanished, the steaming grass cool again. Around them the night was replaced with soft blue, coral and teal sky, Celestia's mane, forever rippling in whatever wind buffets the immortal. Royal relaxed, and felt his courage and strength return. "I am terribly sorry, I really am. I let this... whimsy... on my part go entirely too far. No, my little pony, I am not here to silence you, I am not here to turn you to stone, or any of the other terrible things you have been thinking." Could she read his mind? Or had she simply lived so long that his thoughts were as predictable to her as the rising of the sun... which she... controlled. The princess pulled away, leaving Royal standing perplexed in the moonlight. When she had embraced him, it had felt like sunshine and comfort and love. In that moment he had been a foal, and she his mother, making the world all right. The intensity of that feeling echoed within him, lending him ease and comfort. Royal could now take stock of his surroundings, and he noticed that they were in a far corner of the garden, away from the Maze, and surrounded by statues. All were of ponies, some bore flags, one a horn. Another statue to Royal's side held a long scroll that rolled down from the hooves that held it. Directly in front of him was the statue of a mare, rearing up on hind legs, her hooves on a rough stone pillar. On the crude pillar was a flat, wide, rectangular capstone, and upon that was a rounded stone. She had one hoof upon the stone and her other hoof was raised high. She appeared to be in the middle of speaking, her mouth open, her eyes determined and wide. "That is The Lady Soliloquy, one of the very first six baronesses of the very first age of Equestria. She lived in the year 53 After Discord, in the very first century of Harmony. In those days, the world you now know was still being... arranged... and life was difficult for all of my ponies. She was a good leader and a better speaker with more than a flair for the dramatic and the captivating. She had a magic about her, one that could sway those that heard her deeply. Among that early peerage, Lady Soliloquy was... without peer." Celestia gave a faint smile at her little jest. Royal stood still as a statue himself, completely unsure what, if anything, to say. "Life was hard in those early times, little one. The land was not yet the green splendor you see today. The sky was not entirely settled, there were disputes about the purpose of night... suffice it to say there was dissension that would be unthinkable today." Celestia seemed sad now, a wave of sorrow passing over her muzzle. Like a cloud under the hoof of a pegasus, it vanished, replaced once more by implacable calm. "You cannot fully understand those times, for it was not entirely the same world. Soliloquy served the crown well, but over time her love of the ponies she cared for overwhelmed her fealty to... me. Her dissent was not without some validity, but it could not be tolerated. Life in that time was far too fragile and precarious to suffer any disagreement - it was often the case that the ponies merely surviving another day could be counted a triumph. It was not possible for demands or complaints to be heard. In tending to minor injustices, the entire world could have been lost." Celestia stared deeply at Royal, and some of his previous unease returned. "A ruler must rule, little one, and there are decisions that must be made for the good of all that are not easy, and which do not offer a pleasant sleep afterwards. Do you understand?" To Royal, in that moment, it did not matter one bit whether or not he could understand. He nodded, respectfully. "We now live in very different times, and in this age it is prudent to allow such latitude as we could never have permitted before. With the Newfoals, like you, have come changes to Equestrian culture. Your culture and yourselves must be integrated into Equestria, so that Harmony can continue for all. Where there has been resentment or mistrust of Newfoals, your irreverence has won support and adoration. In mocking me, you have assured the acceptance of your kind. You have done what I myself could not. I am grateful." Celestia smiled warmly at Royal, leaving him utterly stunned. The princess of the sun next gazed upon the open-mouthed statue. She laughed, softly, gently. "In her time, the Lady Soliloquy was the biggest thorn in my flank! She nearly brought the entirety of ponydom to utter ruin, because she yearned for freedoms and luxuries that literally could not be afforded at the time. Had I not acted, my little ponies would have starved and perished for the pursuit of her views, such was her influence in that harsh time. There was not a thing wrong with her demands - they were just inappropriate for their time." "Royal -" Celestia once again looked down upon the nervous stallion "The Lady Soliloquy is no longer a baroness - all that she once held has turned to dust. In this age, she is just a pony, no more a peer than you, yourself. She is no less remarkable for her loss of station, though. She is brash, bright, immensely frustrating, funny and often unwise. She is poetry and song and prose that cannot be ignored. Her voice can spellbind the masses and her words can warm even the coldest heart. It is no exaggeration to say that she is one of the greatest talents Equestria has ever produced, and so very early in its history, too." Royal looked over the ancient stone form, an elegant mare frozen for almost a millennium in an impassioned pose. "I think you will find miss Soliloquy the most infuriating, brilliant and valuable member of your very important and needed troupe. It is our wish for you to take her in, help her adjust to this new Equestria, show her kindness and friendship, and above all, assist her to realize her great talent, now that the world is finally ready for one such as her to shine. Know this, my little pony - we never forget, we never destroy, and we ever seek justice. It is right that our precious Soliloquy finally know that abundance which she once yearned for with such magnificent ferocity." With that, Celestia's horn began to glow, bright and golden as her glorious sun. Royal stared, agape in awe as the statue before him gained a shimmering aura, the arcane light spilling out across the damp grass. Royal's eye was drawn to the tip of the statue's raised hoof, where the stone was rapidly changing color, turning from the hard gray of stone, to the vibrant hues of a living pony. A pony that would soon draw breath for the very first time in just over nine hundred years. When Royal had first introduced Soliloquy to the RADWICKINS troupe, she had looked briefly them all over, marched directly to the planning desk and stared at the rectangular objects that covered it. She had seen ponies before in her life, they could wait - she was used to having others wait for her. The objects were what was of interest. "This... we demand the purpose of this one!" It was Bucket's prompt book, which left several of the cast in shock - apparently there had been no books in Soliloquy's time. She had just come to understand that books were stored knowledge, and therefore represented power. Royal had been working to teach her to read, but it had been slow going initially - he barely understood how to read the commonplace writing of the earthponies himself, and there were two other forms of writing in use he knew nothing of yet. The lack of familiarity with books in no way hampered the latest addition to the RADWICKINS troupe - perhaps in compensation, Soliloquy's memory was beyond phenomenal, and once something was shown or explained to the pale fuchsia unicorn mare, it became a permanent part of her. As months had passed, Royal ultimately had to accept her teaching him how to read. Soliloquy excelled in every respect, and she was not shy about letting everypony know this fact. Celestia had not exaggerated. Soliloquy was infuriating and utterly brilliant. Within the first days of her release from stone she had almost completely grasped what her world had become. She had gasped at the beauty - in her day, Equestria was little but twisted rock with a churning horror above. Survival depended as much on what fell from the chaos above as from what they could grow from rocks crushed to make soil. When Soliloquy fully grasped the scale of modern Equestrian architecture, she had violently wept - she had lived in a walled cluster of large huts and called it a castle. A bed, for Soliloquy, was a divine luxury - she had slept on a pile of mats laid upon dirt and thought herself royalty for it. But not a bit of this had crushed her indomitable spirit. Where others might have hidden, she stepped forth, demanding always to see more, to learn more. Royal had been run ragged catering to her as she discovered her new world - indeed her new universe - so utterly unfamiliar, so incredibly rich and magnificent. "Our sky was not this sky." Soliloquy was drawn to watching the heavens, and would not miss a sunset or moonrise. "We knew no tranquil void decorated with cloud or star. Above us always was dark, swirling nightmare horrors grinding ceaselessly. Occasionally desire or disgust would drip from above, and bring with it either delight or danger. We see in this new sky such boundless sweetness that our heart can barely embrace it." It was in moments like this, that Royal found himself transfixed - both he and Soliloquy were, in their own ways, refugees from other universes, trying to make sense of the one they had found themselves in. Equestria was as strange for Soliloquy as it had been for him four years ago. She had lived before Equestria was Equestria at all, and in this they both found vast common ground. One thing Royal found he adored about Soliloquy was that she could fight. Modern ponies were, for the most part, a tranquil lot, peaceable and placid. Not so Soliloquy. She awakened in Royal some lost element of human nature, and their screaming, yelling fights, late at night, when the food was not perfect enough, or the rehearsal was flawed, or when she was angry at one of his friends for something she could not fully comprehend thrilled him in some fundamental way. He found himself grateful for her rages, and even sought them out. It quickly became clear that in her day, ponies were a different breed, one not raised in endless peace and plenty. Soliloquy was of a breed that could and did know what it meant to wrestle grim life from ever-waiting death. In some ways, Soliloquy seemed more human to Royal than most converted Newfoals. In her, he discovered he had found the other half of what he had felt missing. He had needed to command attention from an audience - that was a fact. But he also had missed a certain edginess to reality that Equestria profoundly lacked. In Soliloquy he found that in endless measure, and it quickly became clear that she found the same within him. He was the one pony that would yell back. Where others cowered, Royal pounded the tables with his immaculate purple hooves. Where other ponies of this new Equestria fled from her tirades, Royal glared back, as fiercely as a deadly Griffon, as immovable as a mountain. Royal was the only pony she found she could respect in this new world. When it was clear they had become a couple, Thunder Road seemed miffed - she had always had her golden eyes on Royal. Bucket had merely noted that 'Celestia works in mysterious ways', to which Thunder had snorted. "I think Celestia works in obvious ways." With that the crimson pegasus had stomped off in a huff. Bitsworth was in the zone, reading from his sheet into the Bevelmeiter Microphone "...AND SPECIAL MUSICAL GUESTS ZAHQUO AND D. NOTIVE!!!" As the music swelled, two dozen pony performers began to sing - (Sung to the tune of 'Another op'nin', another show' From 'Kiss Me Kate') Another op'nin, it's time to share In Phillydelphia, or Baltimare A chance for New Foals to say hello! Another op'nin of another show. Another gig that we hope will last Will help our foals to respect our past And bring our grievances to the Throne So that the New Foals won't stand alone For months, how we wished we could curse Swore that we could never feel worse Two meek, yes, too frightened and shy Feeling lonely and cold under Luna's sky The friendly overtures that were made Could not help feeling we'd been betrayed We miss our fingers, we miss our toes And that's the reason we give these shows! The lights dimmed and a single, pale fuchsia unicorn, tall and elegant, dressed in an exquisite gown took the spotlight. Her voice was clear and proud as she recited her words, accompanied by the twenty-four piece orchestra playing softly, dramatically in the background. The scene was instantly mesmerizing, and the mare's voice wove itself into the vast theater space like the web of a spider, ensnaring every mind, every soul, catching them in its power. "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation, To denounce the evils of ponification, To demand respect and full restitution, We are The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society! We bring the news of the Newfoal's plight, Celestia respect! or prepare to fight. The RADWICKINS gallop toward what's right!" It was no longer a song. It was no longer a laugh. Suddenly Bitsworth's light poem had become a eulogy for a lost world, and a proclamation of intent. In Soliloquy's intense vocalization, it was almost a prayer. The audience was silent, reflecting on the meaning of the words. In each and every pony heart the magnitude of what had been done, the scale of issue of the Newfoal refugees embedded itself like a dagger. One prominent Canterlot business pony who enjoyed the RADWIKINS shows but refused to ever hire one of those strange, alien Newfoals suddenly found himself sobbing. In his foalhood, he had been picked on because he had been slow and clumsy, despite being sharp of mind. Few foals would play with him. He often felt like an outcast, and that had driven him into financial success. Soliloquy's magic voice had touched his heart, and in but a second, he had realized the Newfoals must truly feel the same way he had felt, as a foal. His shame had overwhelmed him. A pegasus of the Royal Guard, in the audience with his exotic Newfoal marefriend, found himself turning to look, really look, at the earthpony he had been dating. She was not some trophy or whim to show off to his mates in the Guard. Her odd ways as she desperately still tried, after four years, to fit in to an alien, nonhuman culture suddenly did not seem so funny to him. The motto was not the joke it had been the last times he had taken her to it, eager to see how his freak of a marefriend might react. She wasn't a freak. Not one bit. She was a lovely and loving mare, and he realized that he had been hiding from himself how much he really cared about her. Soliloquy's unique talent broke through the narrow-minded, traditionalist disgust within a wealthy upper tier stallion. He had secretly supported a renegade group that had once worked to send Newfoals off to random places in the Exponential Lands. The elite stallion had not been implicated when Celestia had discovered the plot and dealt with the obvious perpetrators. Driven by remorse, he quietly rose from his pillow and excused himself through the packed crowd. Once outside, he walked directly to the quarters of the Royal Guard and began his confession. Midway through, he broke down into tears, begging forgiveness. Loquacity The Garrulous, one of Celestia's trusted Royal Unicorn Corps, the most prestigious mages in all of Equestria, found herself unable to stop hearing "Down with Celestia" in her head. Over and over the phase from the motto repeated itself, hammering within her as shame rose. She had secretly been part of a subversive group of unicorn mages dedicated to researching a means - any means - to overthrow the tyranny of an immortal alicorn government. They believed that the world should be run by unicorns, and that pegasai and earthponies existed only to serve... them. If Celestia could allow this, this open sacrilege, this open mockery of Her to exist... then everything the unicorn mage had worked for in secret was wrong. Celestia was no tyrant. She truly was the loving mother, and all ponies her children. Loquacity broke down, swearing on her magic that in the morning she would report to her princess and disclose everything, every name, every plot, every detail. She was mare enough... to admit her mistake. The silence within the great hall was broken only by occasional sobbing and the sound of a few ponies begging forgiveness for something they had done, or failed to do, for Newfoals beside them. Soliloquy herself, tall neck held high, gazed slowly around the crowded space. Then she briefly lowered her head in a half bow, and walked elegantly from the stage, her gentle hooves inadvertently sounding like drum hits in the dead silence. It took some time for the orchestra to begin to play, and when it did it was not the number the script called for, but, at Bucket's insistence, a slow, gentle piece from Earth, a song called "My Old Kentucky Home." Bucket, in his low, gravelly voice sang the lyrics, and while not one of the native ponies understood the song, or the context of its existence, Bucket himself certainly did, and in any case, the music was somehow just what was needed. Far above, in the left and right Royal Balconies, a midnight blue muzzle hidden inside a rich embroidered cloak looked across at a delicate, pale white muzzle hidden within another, equally splendid cloak and nodded. The pale muzzle quietly nodded back.
6. No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin ManSpecial credits: song selection and lyrics in collaboration with my spouse Aedina.The Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance6. No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man This audience was the largest yet. The Manehattan Royal Equestrian Theatre had been built during an age where Celestia had briefly experimented with permitting advances in physical technology. For eighty years, until it became clear that the land would become ruined, the sky poisoned, and ponies forced to work long hours at thankless jobs, the City of Manehattan had reveled in 'Big'. Big buildings were built, Big streets were laid, Big ambitions rose up, and Big fortunes were made. But the cost had been an entire forest turned to desert, a mountain reduced to a poisoned pit, and skies darkened by soot and grime. Worse, tens of thousands of ponies had ended up wage slaves without futures of their own, while the few grew wealthier and wealthier. Unrest grew and in the end Celestia had needed to intervene, and bring the first and only Equestrian industrial revolution to an end. Manehattan remained, as the skies slowly cleared. The forest never grew back, and the pit that had been a mountain was still filled with sludge. Celestia had left those as a reminder to herself and everypony that magic was enough, and that happiness was more important than ambition. The experiment had not been entirely without benefit, however. Manehattan was now the largest city in Equestria, and had the most impressive architecture outside of Canterlot itself. Of import now, it had the largest theatre in the entire pocket universe, and being a very international city, the most diverse audience. Griffons and the civilized dragons lived and worked in Manhattan, as did the more socially inclined sorts of diamond dogs. Tonight's audience was not just made up of ponies alone. The mare in the front row examined her program. It was exquisitely printed, in full color, and it was rumored that the RADWICKINS had some kind of an in with the Royal Printers in Canterlot itself. She studied the cover in the dim light, as the orchestra tuned their instruments. The text was grandly done in all three pony writing forms - the common earthpony grainscript that every Equestrian knew, but also unicorn glyphs and the cloudsigils used by the pegasai, - and what appeared to be New Draconic and Red Claw Gryphography as well. She had seldom seen so many forms of writing on one document. The stallion next to her leaned over "I was so excited to get us tickets and get inside, I don't even know what the show is tonight. So, what are the ol' RADWICKINS doing for us this evening?" The mare grinned and read out loud "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Farrier" She blinked at her date. "I... don't get it." The stallion shrugged with his ears. "Oh! Of course. I'm sorry. It's... kind of a... take off... on a famous old musical from Earth. It's very funny!" The mare looked down, slightly embarrassed - her knowledge instantly defined her as a Newfoal and not a native. "None of that now!" The stallion gave her a strong and gentle nuzzle. "I won't have my future wife fussing over her past, not when we have a future to build... together." The mare looked up, relieved. She nuzzled her fiance back, and lay her head against his thick, powerful neck. It would be another eight months before her foal was born, but she felt glad that her little one would grow up knowing such a loving and dedicated sire. The great velvet curtain of the Manehattan Royal Equestrian Theatre slowly rose. The lights brightened as the fifty-piece Grand Orchestra began to play the music of old earth. Several dozen ponies on the stage, in costume, sprightly began to sing. (Sung to the tune of 'Comedy Tonight' From 'A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum') "We lost our fingers Now we are singers We got converted and We're hoofing it tonight! No clothes concealing We are revealing All of our tails to you We'll tell'ya of our plight! Humans withdrawn, we'll carry on Now that we're ponies, our world is gone! Earthly origins Been sitting pidgeons For when the potion hit the fan - Equestria tomorrow Humanity tonight! We've been converted Bodies perverted Stallions got lucky but - Humanity tonight! Magic is clever Don't need a lever We laugh at physics now Humanity tonight! We were just pawns, now we eat lawns let's see Celestia dressed in long-johns! This is such feces that we've changed species We've revolution to incite - forget that we're ponies Humanity tonight!" The ponies on stage froze in a magnificent tableau, as the orchestra hit the final note, and the applause, made of stomping hooves, the hard clash of scaly claws, hooting Gryphonic calls and the noisome gibbering of diamond dogs threatened to deafen the very audience that produced it. While the Marketplace Scene brought down the house in laughter beyond the backstage walls, Soliloquy had a very special visitor who had requested to speak with her alone. It was the Royal Wish that something new be presented at the conclusion of the show, something other than the now traditional reading of the Society Motto. "All over Equestria?" Soliloquy sat with folded legs, eyes wide at the thought, mixed emotions filling her heart. She had always been divided inside when dealing with Celestia. Her feelings had become even more complicated over the last two years touring with the company, living a life beyond anything she had dreamed in her day. She was a commoner now, but lived more grandly than she had as a baroness. Around her every aspect of the universe itself mocked her petty rebellion against her creator - in the end, the struggles of her age had permitted the glories of the current one. But she hardly felt punished by seeing her how selfish and petty her complaints had been in retrospect - every day was for her another boundless joy filled with undiscovered pleasures and wonders. Nothing was as strange or curious as the Judgement of Celestia. "It is something I used just after the humans threw every weapon they had at my Barrier. It was very early on. They called it the Three Day War, and they used the very forces of their cosmos to boil the sea and burn their sky to stop Equestria. I appeared shortly after over every city, in every village, inside the most secret of underground complexes and within the fragile metal walls of their orbiting stations. To each in their native language came my voice, and I spoke to them of our intent, of Equestria's beauty, of our gift, and of the danger they faced. It was shortly after that when their world government joined with us to develop the ponification serum." Celestia's face was placid, but her eyes held ancient and unknowable emotion, the strange burden of the all-powerful immortal. "What you mean is that such a well-timed display of power put them in their proper place." Soliloquy studied her princess through half-lidded eyes, faint distaste upon her muzzle. Brash and defiant as always, Celestia noted, and forever straight to the heart of any matter. "Your words will be heard in every part of our universe, Soliloquy. Even and especially to the billions far out in the Exponential Lands. Yours would be the first time in all of history that a single voice has touched so many within Equestria simultaneously. To say this would be historic would be inadequate. Of all ponies, I have chosen you." Celestia was the kind mother now, and if Soliloquy were any other citizen, she would instantly melt into grateful compliance. But she was not any other citizen - she was Soliloquy, first baroness of the first age, one of the first of Celestia's creations to come into being. If any creature could consider itself the immortal princesses 'daughter', it would surely be her. Not that the relationship was in any way acknowledged. "If I refuse to do this for you?" The fuchsia mare studied her foreknees. "Then I will simply do it myself, and it will not be nearly as good, I think. You have a gift, Soliloquy, and this is the age and the moment when that gift can do the most good in the world. I know you care for Royal, and through him his kind. It is not an easy thing to be a refugee in a foreign land. My purpose is to make their lives the better, and all of Equestria the better for embracing them." Soliloquy jerked her head up and studied the princess. "Your purpose is to keep order and integrating the Newfoals matters to you only because it serves that end. Do you even really care what happens for them?" Celestia was not angry at this harsh accusation, rather she appeared wounded by it. "Of course I care, Soliloquy. I care about all of my little ponies, and the dragons and griffons and dogs as well. I care about all my subjects, and I ever seek their benefit. How could you think otherwise?" "I do not doubt you have feeling for others, Celestia." Soliloquy's eyes had not wavered "But I know you in a way no other alive does. I know the Celestia that wailed at the memory of chaos and who suffered nightmares of Discord. I knew a harsh, grim Celestia that struggled for her own sanity even as she struggled to bring order to the universe itself. I have reason to think you would do anything for the sake of order alone, regardless of the cost to others." "It has been a thousand years since I brought you and the first ponies into existence. The land and sky are not the only things that have changed in that time, Soliloquy. Can not the benefit of my subjects and the pursuit of order hope to be the same thing?" Soliloquy knew not to read anything into Celestia's expressions. To look into the alicorn's eyes was to be lost in a house of mirrors. "Hmmph." Soliloquy had known from the first moment Celestia had appeared that she would be doing whatever the princess wanted of her. That did not mean she could not enjoy making the immortal creature work for it a little bit. "Is this task then the real reason that I have been granted life in the world once more?" Celestia never moved her gaze as she spoke "It is one of the reasons, of course. A thousand years ago, you were a problem to me, today, you could well serve my purposes, I would not deny that. With the same directness I tell you that I have ever felt for you, and this age can finally grant you that which you always wanted. Your usefulness to me and your fulfillment as an individual have found equal measure in this time and this place. I have never forgotten you, and I have only wished your happiness. Tell me, my soliloquy, are you... happy?" There was only one truthful answer possible. "Of course I am, princess." The words were accurate, but Soliloquy felt some bitterness in saying them - Celestia would clearly already know that this future Equestria, green and abundant was all she ever had wanted. The only reason for asking was to force her to admit that everything that had happened to her was ultimately to her overwhelming benefit. Was the goddess of an entire universe so insecure that she needed that acknowledged in front of her? "Here is what to say, written by the finest scriptwriters of my court, triple checked for both cultural and species sensitivity, and then run past the entire faculty of the Royal Literary Society for additional clarity and polishing." Celestia had interrupted Soliloquy's pondering "Whatever you do, I am counseled to recommend in the strongest possible way that you should, under no circumstances, ever, in any way, deviate from the provided script by even a single word." Celestia gave her best, practiced smile. "Have fun!" Before Soliloquy could hope to respond, a sphere of supernal light enveloped Celestia and just as quickly shrank to a point hanging in the middle of the air, which then winked out altogether. "Yes, of course, princess. As you wish, princess." Under her breath, Soliloquy added 'see you in tartarus, princess' and couldn't help the grin that came afterwards. Thunder Road was probably the only pegasus in Equestria that sincerely wasn't impressed with the Wonderbolts. They could fly fast, and they could do synchronized maneuvers that went over very successfully at stadium events. But it was easy to wow a crowd with dangerous, high speed action, simply because it was dangerous, and because speed automatically wowed almost all creatures. Thunder was not impressed by speed alone, and while she appreciated the skill of synchronized flying, in the end it all came down to not making mistakes, rather than innovation to her mind. What she valued was inventive precision matched with moment-to-moment inspiration, something that to her could only be found in Aerial Ballet. In her human life, Thunder Road had been an overweight, club-footed girl of nineteen, not the tiniest bit attractive, with great knobby knees that never worked right. She had an endless appreciation for everything she could never be - grace, loveliness, coordination, poise. Thunder had followed the performers of her day, the dancers, the actresses, she had envied such gifted people, even as she was drawn to every detail of their lives. She had wanted to take classes... but her parents would have none of her foolish dreams - they were vanities, and ultimately verging on sin. Her parents had been religious fundamentalists that had seen the emergence of Equestria as nothing less than hell and the temptations of the devil. She and her parents had eventually found themselves crowded together on the eastern coast of the Northamerizone, in Saint John, New Brunswick, freezing in the cold. They, and tens of thousands of others, stood on the rocky coast, backs to the sea, praying to their various gods to save them as the unimaginably vast, shimmering Barrier of Equestria swept inexorably towards them. The Hindus in the crowd begged Ganesha to push the Barrier back, the Christians called on their savior to raise them up, calls to the Buddha and the saints were accompanied with bells and horns, and various other groups made pleas to deities and pantheons that Thunder had never even heard of. All had been united, their mutual enmities forgotten, as they had gathered there, The Coalition Of Faith, to face down the Barrier and save the Earth with a last stand of prayer. Thunder had not seen anyone's god arrive. But she had seen the trucks, huge yellow tanker trucks with the Worldgovernment logo on them, racing ahead of the Barrier. The crowd had panicked, and Thunder never heard completely what the loudspeakers on the trucks were blaring, but it was clear that the regional corporation leaders couldn't just sit by and let thousands die. To them, the Barrier was no different than a hurricane, and those crowded together in Saint John were no different than the usual sorts who refuse to evacuate even after the sirens have clearly sounded. She tried not to bear them ill will, when the streams of potion covered her. She understood they were only doing what they thought was right, even if that work was the delusion of Satan. The last she saw of her mother and father was the two of them drowning themselves in the ocean, along with countless lemming others. When Thunder awoke, she was in Equestria, or to be more accurate, Equestria had come to her. The Barrier had rippled right over her and thousands of others as she dreamed and spoke with the princesses. Upon opening her new eyes, the high-tech towers of Saint John were gone, the city transformed into a lovely village in the pony style. Where the dead, poisoned ocean had been were now endless fields of flowers dotted with blue, pristine lakes. It was in one of those placid waters that she had leaned over and discovered her own reflection. Gone was the ugly, fat, pimply face pitted with acne scars. In its place was a sleek, bright red muzzle, perfect teeth, beautiful eyes and the most gorgeous mane of pale, lemon yellow. It was then she noticed her wings, her angelic, feathered wings, as they spread out wide, expressing her pegasus excitement at what she saw. On the great Manehattan stage, the red pegasus mare flew slowly, with exquisite control, in a vast arc out over the audience. She held her pose, wings frozen, barely moving, as she pushed the air itself around her through the force of her very will. As she reached the stage once more, in time with the music, Thunder Road pulled herself into a tight spin, wings close, falling, falling until catching herself with an audible FWHUMPH as her wings spread wide arresting her drop with a dramatic flare. With the slightest twitch of her pinions, her back hooves alighted, one foreleg held high above her, the other drawn across her barrel as she ever-so-slowly spun in place until finally dropping gracefully down to all fours. There she stood, one wing raised, the other held low, a foreleg artfully curled as the applause swept her emotions away. Tears rolled down her cheeks - this was art, not doing barrel rolls for cider-addled sports fans. This was beauty, and she was beauty, and there were thousands of exquisitely beautiful ponies out there, and all of them were cheering her. It was a perfect moment of bliss, marred by only one thing - if only her parents could have suffered from clubfoot and bad knees too. If only they had been... just a little bit slower. Suddenly, Thunder realized. It all became clear to her. She hadn't been angry at being turned into a Newfoal. That had saved her life. She wasn't really angry at that approaching Barrier, though she thought she had been. She was angry that her parents had thought more of their faith, than of staying with her. When she had been hit by the spray from the trucks, they had turned from her as if she were garbage, and run to their imagined rewards. They had not stayed with their only daughter, they had not chosen her, they had chosen the sea. As the anesthetic took her, her last sight was of them, rushing into the cold, dead Atlantic. The applause very slowly began to die, and as she left the stage, her tears of joy became mixed with tears of other flavors, her heart overflowing with conflicting emotion. It had taken an audience of thousands of ponies to teach her what she should have been able to figure out long ago. She felt triumphant and foolish at the same time. Thunder Road loved being a pegasus. She loved being beautiful, she adored being able to fly, and she thrived on the adulation of those that came to see her art. She wasn't missing her thumbs. She wasn't missing anything, because she had possessed everything she really needed all along. But as angry as she was at her parents betrayal, as furious as she was at them, she grieved that her parents could not have been in that audience, or backstage, waiting for her. "I've been a foal... no, I've just been... hurt.", she thought, as she walked through the congratulations and Bucket's usual "Well done... NEXT!" Joining the Society had, in the end, ultimately helped her with her problems. She just hadn't understood what her problems really were. And there was no fix for the betrayal of a parent except time and love. Suddenly Bucket returned shouting at the crew and cast. Apparently the ending had been changed. By no less than Royal Command. What? Thunder Road tried to understand what was going on, but it was hard with everypony talking and Bucket shouting. Some sort of special piece involving Soliloquy? Wait, that couldn't be right. All over the entirety of the Equestrian cosmos? Thunder found a sheet thrust at her, hastily copied by a weary looking unicorn scribe. It had words to a song. Soliloquy would speak, and then the entire cast, including the crew and stagehands would finish with a song, and all of it sent by the magic of Celestia herself to every living being in the universe. It was one hell of a gig.
7. Life is a Cabaret, old chumSpecial credits: song selection and lyrics in collaboration with my spouse Aedina.The Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance7. Life is a Cabaret, old chum Everypony in Martingale On Hackamore knew him now as 'Dumpy Dungcart'. Dumpy had considered having his coat dyed, but this far out on the borders of Equestria, it was an extra step that would have been too much work to maintain, and ultimately would raise even more suspicions about him. Besides, he was well enough hidden by the fact of his job itself - he was not exactly the center of anypony's attentions, considering his occupation. He was, he felt, perfectly hidden. Nopony could ever find him, or imagine he had once been Bucket, the stage manager for... well, best to just put all of that in the past. He was Dumpy now. Dumpy Dungcart. Dumpy pulled his rickety, heavily burdened cart down the road that ran along the Hackamore river. Martingale was a small village, hardly more than a thousand ponies, very rural and very isolated. They were far to the east, almost to the beginning of the Exponential Lands, but still well within Equestria proper. The ponies of Martingale were very traditional, very old-Equestria, most hadn't a clue what a Newfoal even was. They had seen the Last Performance, of course - every creature in Equestria had seen the Last Performance. There was no escaping it, thanks to the princess. It's hard to miss a show performed in the sky above your head. Fortunately, the show hadn't meant anything to the ponies in Martingale On Hackamore. They had no context, they had no way to comprehend what they had seen. That had been such a relief to Bucket when he had first arrived as 'Dumpy'. Nopony here would take him as anything but native, and so long as he kept to himself, so long as he made no close, intimate connections, he felt sure he would do them no harm. And that was something 'Dumpy' wanted very much - to avoid contaminating these utterly innocent, guileless, native ponies of Martingale. The Last Performance had taught Bucket many things, things he wished he did not have to know. The princesses were deific, if not outright goddesses - he had heard that before, of course, but had not been prepared for the reality. Even with the impossible manes and tails, they seemed so approachable and modest, normally. When they truly used their power... it was one thing to speak of godlike power, and another entirely to be faced with it in reality. There was, he found, a special horror to witnessing such things, even from the most benevolent of beings. Bucket had also learned that such beings could make mistakes. Celestia might be all powerful, she might be all Good, but she certainly could not know the future, and she absolutely did not know everything. Was there a flaw in the ponification serum? Was it the fault of Man, or of the unicorn mages on the Equestrian side? Was it that the spirit of humanity was just too strong? Did Celestia grant the Newfoals too much latitude when they were converted? Bucket had no way to know. He would probably never know. But he did know how to run, and he had run, and now, as best as he could be, he was hidden. If Celestia could not know everything, she could be hidden from. Bucket reckoned that it was just that human nature was irrepressible. But whatever the case, it all meant that the dramatic changes that Newfoals underwent, to mind as well as body, were not as total, not as absolute as he had imagined. Sure, they came out strikingly less aggressive, certainly they had their mental illnesses cured, they ended up happy, well adjusted - for the most part - and Newfoals were incapable of true human hatred or murderous impulses. But it was not enough. That much had been made clear. So very, very clear. Not even close to being enough. 'Dumpy' kept to himself. He deliberately refused the one mare that had taken a shine to him. He stayed alone, which suited most in town just fine, ultimately. Once a week he allowed himself a cider in the little 'pub' - Bucket thought of it as a pub, anyway - and sat in the corner, sipping it. He remained aloof when approached. He felt sure most thought he was just a grumpy loner who preferred his solitude. Inside, Bucket wished he could be part of his community. He wanted to have friends, but... he reckoned that in the end, he would just ruin them. He couldn't taint them, harm them that way. Not after... not after The Last Performance. Dumpy finally reached the large composting pit. It was some distance from the river, and he had to make several trips a day to keep up with things. Martingale had welcomed him, when he had arrived - their last dung hauler had been a donkey that had quit to seek fame and fortune, leaving a hole that needed filling, and piles that needed emptying. If there was one thing Bucket knew, it was nightsoil, and the same day he had arrived, 'Dumpy Dungcart' had found employment and a nice little cottage far, far on the outskirts of the village. The cart needed to be upended, and the contents evacuated. Dumpy adjusted the cart carefully next to the edge of the pit before using a back leg to kick the lever that locked the wheels. With his teeth he quickly undid his bindings and was free from the cart. Putting his weight on his forelegs, he slowly raised his hindquarters and tilted the cart in a sort of slow-motion buck. It was easy to do - most of a pony's weight was in the front, so raising one's rear was almost effortless. With the cart tilted, the contents were already pouring out into the compost pit - pony dung was fairly dry, compact, and cohesive, so the majority rolled out on its own. But it was not enough, regretfully. When all that could be emptied by gravity - or whatever passed for gravity in Equestria - had been emptied, Dumpy leveled the cart bed and locked it down. Then he climbed into the cart, took his rake in mouth, and began sweeping the remaining dung out of his cart. It had never ceased being astonishing to him how easily he could use his mouth like a single, incredibly strong hand. The long jaw, the strong, flat, solid front teeth, the immensely powerful muscles - and a strange, unhuman maxilofacial dexterity. It was trivial to wield the rake, and his long, sinuous neck never tired from the effort of sweeping. What amazed him most, though, was that he never became dizzy from such movement of his head. The others... they had all found such happiness. Well, until the Last Performance, of course. There was no way to know what had become of them. Maybe they were all statues now. Bucket had not stayed to find out. He had run, as soon as he realized. As soon as he had recognized... the song. That blasted last moment song. He was stage manager! They should have run it by him! But he never really had gained their respect. Not really. Royal had gotten to be important again, respected, and ultimately loved. He and Soliloquy had a stormy relationship, but there was no doubting their affinity for each other. They had been talking marriage, before that night, before the Last Performance. Golden and his butler Bitsworth - both had found their calling, their passions in the society. Bitsworth had found an outlet for his voice and his poetry, and Golden had found something better and more fulfilling than corporate predation. It was so clear how much he loved arranging prizes and giving them away. Thunder Road just blossomed as a flyer during her time in the society. She had gone from giving thrill rides through thunderstorms to literally dancing in the air, and the way she glowed and beamed with joy could have given the princess of the sun a run for her bits. Argent and Hot Topic had become the most loving of couples, and their smiles and gentle sweetness with each other had gotten them the nickname the 'Sugar Twins' back stage. Ponies were incapable of earth weaknesses like diabetes, but among the Newfoals who knew of the disease, the joke was that if such an illness did ever come to Equestria, Argent and Topic would have been the cause. They were so happy, it was impossible to feel down in their presence. Chair... Chair, who had started things off with his complaints - he and his wife Honeybutter, they had become singing stars, touring Equestria. Hopefully they still were. They hadn't participated in the song - they had left before that moment, off to a gig on the other side of Manehattan. Probably they were spared anything that might have happened. Probably. Hopefully. Unless Chair had written the song. It was possible. There was no way to know. Dumpy finished sweeping the last lump out of his cart. He carefully replaced the rake into the slot built to hold it. His hooves were a mess, and dung covered his pasterns all the way to his knees. Specks had gotten on his coat elsewhere, too. The saving grace was that disease was all but unknown in Equestria, and what illness there was came mostly from strange magical issues that were fortunately fairly rare. He was dealing in pony waste, but unlike Earth, it was not dangerous. Just unpleasant. Dumpy clambered back down from his cart, and trod around to the front. Strapping himself in, he nudged the lever back down with his back leg to release the wheels. This was the last haul of the day, so it was time to head home, stow the cart, and head to his favorite spot in the river for his first bath. His second, hot bath was something he eagerly looked forward to, but he was not about to use the tub in his cottage until he had first washed the chunks off. The little tan pony pulled his cart back towards the river, away from the compost pit. The wheels rattled as he turned the corner and began following the Hackamore back towards Martingale. It was a good cart, he thought, solid, well built, heavy. A human would be stymied trying to pull such a massive wooden thing, and would require a vehicle. Dumpy was his own vehicle, powerful beyond measure with the almost inexhaustible endurance that was one of the gifts of being an earthpony. As he trotted, pulling the cart as if it were nothing, he could feel the life of the soil itself through his hooves. His magic senses told him that the lush greenery by the road was glad of him and his cart, and the little bits of plant food that fell from it as he passed. He could feel the gratitude of the flowers as he traveled. While ponies may not like his smell, or completely appreciate his work, an entire world of plants and insects sang his praises as he paraded by. He was royalty to them, and he could feel it every step of the way, like a conquering hero, head covered in laurel leaves, charioting down the streets of ancient Rome. The cart came to a stop. Bucket shook his head, his mane sweeping across his back. No. Oh, sweet Celestia, no. It just couldn't be denied. The process was amazing, and he knew that there had been changes to his mentation, to his thoughts, to his emotions but... it was still there. It kept coming back. It had to be memory, the memory of everything he had learned and seen and done on Earth. It kept coming back, the ghost of humanity. Conquering hero. Of all the thoughts to think, of all the notions to entertain. He could have thought he was the providing father to the plants, or the nurturing mother, or even just the best friend of the plants and insects. No. The first thing to enter his brain was 'conquering hero of Rome'. Too many movies, too many holoprograms, too many stories of war and history and Who Was Important. Important to humans. Warriors, emperors, kings... killers, all. Behind every great human empire was an equally great human atrocity. This was real. This was history, and even with the planet gone, and all of humanity converted, it still came back. It still came back in little moments where the mind wandered. It was the curse of Grayback. All primates evolved to follow Grayback, the most powerful ape in the troop. The big leader, with the silver hair that spoke of his age and prowess. That said he had survived and triumphed. It wasn't the call to be part of the herd, it was a call to follow the leader. To serve the commander. Grayback, the eternal Ideal of the Monkey General, the emperor, the president, the king, the CEO, the... chief of the hunter-gatherer tribe. Humans had evolved to follow a Grayback, and when they could not find one, they made one. Ponification had not been one-hundred percent conversion. The Newfoals would never truly be Equestrian, not completely. Their foals could be, innocent of the world their parents came from. But the actual Newfoals... would always be apart. They carried within them the knowledge of kings and empires and what it meant to be an evolved creature instead of a created one. Celestia had been too gutless to do the obvious thing. That he could think that, that he could think to call the princess gutless, was Bucket's pride... and also his horror. It was what condemned him to his self-inflicted solitude. Oh, he could mix in. But ponies were curious. Not so much about the world, like humans, but about each other, about other beings. Ponies wanted to know all about you. They wanted to know your birthday and your likes and your dislikes and your favorite color and every little detail about your life. They wanted to know what you had seen, what you had felt. And in no time at all, they would learn from Bucket all about kings, and empires and what primates did when there was not enough to go around, or worse - when there was never enough to satisfy the desire to live like a god, while others bowed and scraped. He didn't want any part of that. He didn't want to corrupt these innocent, loving creatures. Bucket wanted to forget ever having been a human, he wanted to forget that he even was a Newfoal. He wanted, desperately, to not be around other Newfoals. His hope was to just lose himself in the native herd, literally, totally lose... himself... and go completely native. That was why he had gone so far away, out to distant, barely remembered Martingale On Hackamore, where he felt certain he would be the only Newfoal around. When he had finished washing himself in the river, he had forgotten most of his ruminations, and felt more like Dumpy the native than Bucket the Newfoal. He tried hard to forcibly believe that he had always been a pony. In his head, he had invented a foalhood that never was, and a sire and dam that never were. He pretended to himself that he had enjoyed an innocent life with no knowledge of primates from another world. He willed himself to not be amazed inside at magic, at the beauty of the world, at the incredibly bright pet lightsprite fireflies that lived in his lamps, and that he fed and watered every day. These were normal. These were all he had ever known, he kept telling himself. But it never quite worked. Always, he felt the twinges of awe and wonder at every little thing, and that brought him out of his fantasy of having been born Equestrian. The bath in his home was almost warm enough. The tub was very large, as it must be for an equine, and was heated from below like a big stew kettle. It was the most efficient solution. The logs underneath burned merrily, yet they were never consumed. Once made, and properly enchanted, the logs used for fireplaces and heating burned with supernal fire, the fire of magic itself. It certainly saved on trees. Apparently these logs had been made five centuries ago. They had come with the cottage. Dumpy settled himself into his bath. He had placed around the tiled edges of the tub a few treats. He would eat his dinner in leisure, after the bath. He had a tankard of light cider, and a bowl of sweet flowers. He liked the blue ones best, though the big red flowers were more juicy. He nibbled one of the blue flowers and let the warm, scented waters soak into his coat. He couldn't stop thinking about it tonight. It was probably because it was almost exactly one year ago. One year in the past, the Last Performance of The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society. Almost to the day. The day he had stared in abject horror, and fled. Soliloquy floated, hundreds of hooves high, over every city, every village, every town. Inside the caves of dragons, the burrows of diamond dogs, the aeries of gryphons. Celestia herself had introduced her, and explained the curious transmission. She had explained the story of the Newfoals, where they had come from, and what they had endured, and that they had been transformed. And then, she had brought forth Soliloquy. Soliloquy stood, plain and simple, in no elaborate gown, just as herself. And as Celestia knew she would, she tossed aside the bland, utterly inoffensive, utterly boring prepared speech that the court had devised for her. She knew that Celestia was depending on her to do just that, and part of her almost wanted to defy the princess and actually read her dull address. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. Tweaking Celestia was always fun, but this literally was the opportunity of an entire lifetime. It was so difficult, sometimes, dealing with a truly superior intelligence always ten steps ahead. Somehow it was actually worse, in the long run, that Celestia wasn't smug about it. So Soliloquy began her speech, straight from her heart. She had not prepared, beyond some consideration of what she might say - she felt it got in the way of authenticity. Every word she spoke was made of her special magic, golden, perfect, with a hypnotic cadence that no other creature could hope to duplicate. When Soliloquy spoke from the heart, it went directly into the heart of any who listened. It was her special talent. It was her unique gift. Soliloquy spoke of her origin, of coming into being as an adult, torn from the chaos by Celestia, along with thousands of others. She told of how each was assigned a role, so that they might work together and survive. She described the harsh universe they had found themselves in, and how hard it had been merely to live from one day to the next. And then she described the arrival of the dragons. They themselves were not sure where they had come from, or if their fragmented memories of a previous existence were real, or bits of chaos making them imagine a false history. Even Celestia and Luna had no idea if they had been born from Discord, or if they were refugees from the past, or from another world. But they were there, and all had to live together, somehow. It was a fragile peace that often failed. The dragons were not civilized, not then, though they were highly intelligent. They could eat stone, but they craved meat. Ponies, in those days, vanished sometimes, their disappearances seldom fully explained. But they also needed each other. It took everything both species had to survive not only the incomplete world, but the occasional terrors that fell from the unfinished sky. When the gryphons arrived, fallen from their original cosmos, during a cataclysmic eruption in the chaos overhead - the result of Celestia and Luna trying various methods to alter the sky to make some kind of sense - there was a brief war, followed by a tense peace. Celestia had to make more ponies, for many had vanished and the reason was not mysterious at all. For a long time Celestia had concentrated on making animals and plants while her sister Luna had struggled to keep the three species alive and assisting each other, rather than fighting or eating one another. It would have been easy for the ponies to despise the dragons and the griffons, for they both could eat meat - indeed the griffons desperately required it. But things kept falling from the sky, and many found a home in the one place that the princesses could never affect, the one area their ultimate power could not touch. That terrible zone became a forest, and in that forest the terrors from the sky hid and bided their time. At the center was the ruin of a castle already ancient, the place where Discord had kept his little pets, Luna and Celestia. The very site where they had defeated the tyrant of chaos. Without the griffons to fight, all would have been slaughtered by the nightmare creatures of the forest that could not be tamed. Without the dragons, there could never have been soil to grow the first crops - the harsh rock that was the only ground was too hard for the ponies to do anything with. In those days, Celestia was still learning the machinery of the web of life, but the guts of the dragons solved the problem of living soil for her, and all benefited as a result. Solioquy had since learned that the three founding species had chosen to separate after her time, each to their own region and culture, but her point was clear - all the life of Equestria were refugees of one kind or another. Whether from chaos itself, or from some other universe, Equestria had no true natives, only beings desperate for life, for a home. Finally, she introduced the idea of the Newfoals, refugees no less than any other, as deserving as any other, who now lived within Equestria. Yes, they could be strange. Yes, they could have odd ways and curious means, but they were part of Equestria now. They were home, just as all ponies were home, just as the dragons were home, just as the griffons, and long after her time, the diamond dogs, were home. Home. Equestria was home to all. Her words were diamonds to the dragons, tasty and bright, and meat to the griffons, rare and dripping with fresh blood. Her words were the tenderest shoots of new grasses to the ponies and lovely, fat rabbits to the diamond dogs. The many ate her words up, and licking their chops, felt full of contentment and love, for each other, for Equestria, and for the Newfoals, so recently added. When Solioquy was finished, all of Equestria sighed at her leaving, such was the power of her speech. The vision in the sky, in every domicile, expanded to include the stage with all the performers that were the RADWICKINS. Royal stepped forward, and explained, briefly, what they were, and why they had started, and how they had been wrong. They were proud to be Equestrian, and in working together, they had found what they had lacked, and it was not, as they thought, their old world and lives at all. They had found love, and purpose, and community, and above all, belonging, and in the end, that was all that mattered. They had also found something more, though! Something that had finally, truly touched the human part within them. Something that satisfied that part, the part that would never truly be pony, the unique, humanness within. It had been there, all along, and they had been too blind to see it. But now they saw clearly. So very, very clearly. Celestia had looked puzzled, Bucket recalled, something he had never seen before, despite the many times she had appeared on holo, or the times she had visited their troupe. Celestia had been surprised. At the time, Bucket had wondered how often that ever happened. And that was the moment, in front of all of Equestria, every species, in every home, that the RADWICKINS had stood forth, proudly, the orchestra beginning soft at first. Then the Newfoals began to sing the song they had prepared in secret, filled with passion, filled with devotion, filled with gratitude for feeling human once again: Tomorrow Belongs To Hooves... (Sung to the tune of 'Tomorrow Belongs to Me' From 'Cabaret') The Sun in the morning, the Moon in the night From Canterlot to Everfree Oh Gryphons and Dragons and Dogs delight Equestria's home to thee All ponies together in love and respect The pegasus flies to be free Earthpony and unicorn join in glee Equestria's home to thee We newfoals have found a new life in this land Celestia has opened our eyes In friendship and magic we take our stand To Her our right hooves we rise Now Princess Celestia to You we do bow It's human to follow Your call In Equestria as we once claimed of Earth Equestria First, Equestria Best, Equestria Over All!!! Bucket had begun running, away from backstage, the last of the song fading with distance in his ears. He ran and ran, then took the train, and ran some more. He took a boat, always glancing back, worried, but no approach sounded. When he reached the opposite shore he ran again, and ran and ran and ran. Eventually he reached the last native eastern village before the beginning of the newly created Exponential Lands. Somewhere, in those new lands eight billion Newfoals now lived, but they were far from him. He took the name Dumpy Dungcart and was gladly welcomed as the new Dungmaster of Martingale On Hackamore. For months he kept expecting a burst of light and gold-shod hooves, but they never came. The curse of Grayback. Celestia had tried, her collage of unicorn mages had tried. Everypony had tried, but it just hadn't worked. Not completely. Not one-hundred percent. To do that, she would have needed to erase even memory, and she was too gutless to do that. Her kindness would be the undoing of her ponies one day, Bucket felt sure of that. And that would be such a sad, terrible thing. Bucket felt waterlogged, and he hungered for his simple dinner. He climbed from the water, and took his towel to his coat. If he had been in charge, he would have made sure that potion erased all memory, maybe right after the end of the Earth. He would have made sure that no trace of humanity survived. He understood that this was necessary, because he understood that assimilation must be complete, lest a society end up divided into ghettos and barrios and reservations and walled off areas. Bucket understood that, because he understood conquest in a way that even the all-powerful sun goddess was incapable of. He understood, because he had once been human, and he remembered his human life and his human world, and so long as that memory remained, despite his body and brain being utterly changed, a small part of him - and of every Newfoal - would remain irrevocably human still.
8. Trouble right here in River CityThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance8. Trouble right here in River City Dumpy Dungcart sat sipping his cider in the shadowy back corner of Saltlick's General Refreshetorium And Sometimes Inn. The quaint and curious name notwithstanding, the place was basically a pub, at least as far as Dumpy was concerned. Old Saltlick sold cider and salt - which had a curious intoxicating effect on Equestrians when ingested beyond reasonable amounts - as well as various simple snacks. There were games for ponies to play, and places to sit. It was a pub in every way except what the natives of Martingale On Hackamore called it. It was an early Celestday evening, Luna's perfect moon had just risen. Dumpy had enjoyed his usual two baths, the indoor one, as usual, performed with a liberal helping of the sweet-smelling bath powder that he made use of on his one 'social' day at the pub. Not that Dumpy was social, as such, of course. He sat in the back, refused to talk, and had been gradually accepted as the quiet pony that comes on Celestdays and doesn't like to be bothered. Equestrians were a gregarious sort, generally, but they could be trained to leave a pony alone. Nutbrown, a farm stallion from the north quarter of Martingale, was playing a shuffleboard-like game with his old friend Two Nails the blacksmith - Two Nails was winning, currently, and grinning widely for the joy of it. Stonebridge - despite the name a carpenter - was gently arguing as was his usual with Sackbarrel, the owner of the Martingale General Store, something about how unicorns couldn't be good blacksmiths because they never set hoof on metal, and they didn't have an earthpony's way with stuff from the ground. Sackbarrel, a unicorn, was having none of this and was just shy of calling the heavy-built metalworker a breedist. It was likely that Old Saltlick would have to step in and settle the pair down with a scolding and a free pint each to make up for it - which was exactly what the two clever friends pretended to argue for in the first place. They were a devious pair, for ponies at least, and Dumpy had heard many tales of the dubious misadventures of their youth. Dumpy had come to know just about everything about every pony in Martingale On Hackamore - he had come to the conclusion that he probably knew more about every citizen than they knew about themselves, much less each other. Dumpy didn't mingle, and he didn't mix, he just listened. All that listening had brought him the heart and the soul and the drama of his small village in a way that likely no other pony ever had. Sometimes, he even intervened, when he felt he needed to - like the time that Glade Blossom had thought Stormy didn't like her anymore because he had up and flown away and was gone for three months and she was beside herself and ready to marry Cornhusk out of grief. She didn't love Cornhusk - Hay, she didn't even particularly like the pushy stallion. Dumpy had written an anonymous letter telling her Stormy's big secret - that he had gone off to get a temporary high-pay job so he could buy her a proper hoofband. Stormy was intending to propose to Glade and... he really should have said something, anything, before he left, the silly pegasus. Glade was all cheered up the next day and willing to wait for the one she loved, and she never let on about the note, which allowed Stormy his Big Surprise. They were expecting their first foal in a few months. Sometimes, Dumpy felt like a gardener, more than a dungcart draftpony - Martingale was his garden, and all the ponies in it his precious, beautiful flowers, each and every one of them. It had been almost fifteen years since Dumpy had showed up one day in Martingale On Hackamore and ended up as a nightsoil technician. Dumpy chuckled, softly, into his cider at that one. That's what they would have called it back on earth. Chief Nightsoil Technician and Compost Development Specialist. Sweet Luna, but those humans had been a pretentious lot. Huh! That caught Dumpy, and he stared intently at the golden cider in his tankard. A tiny bubble popped on the surface. Those humans. Those. Those humans. He no longer thought of himself as a Newfoal. He really didn't. How odd! He was just... a pony. A pony in a pub, even though they didn't call it that. And thinking such a thing - that the locals didn't call their pub a pub, that didn't make him feel like some weird, transformed ape from another universe anymore. He was just a pony, who had come from outside, and become part of the community, and... it was no big deal that he had some notions that weren't local. That was just natural. Having once been a different species didn't enter into it any longer. Somehow, in those fifteen years, he'd just... settled in. Accepted himself a might. Of course... he understood he didn't dare mix, that was a given, but... at least he didn't see himself as a freak of Conversion anymore. Not like he did. He knew he carried ideas and notions inside him he didn't want hurting these native ponies but that was somehow distant now. It was a promise he kept to himself, a noble act he thought, but he wasn't consumed with shame anymore. He just did it, because it needed to be done, and that was that, and it didn't make him less of an Equestrian because of it. Dumpy smiled at this. It was a pleasant realization. He belonged here, he was a proper citizen, of both Equestria and Martingale, even if he was a quiet one. And he was a proper pony. It felt good. Watercress burst in through the swinging doors - this is such a hoofing pub, thought Dumpy - carrying a flyer in her mouth. Watercress was a young unicorn mare who had almost no talent for magic at all. She couldn't lift a thing with her horn - though she did have the most extraordinary sense of things. She could tell who would walk through the door next, find a lost piece of jewelry without effort, and made the most astonishing predictions that almost always came true. It was like she had some other magic about her, even if she had to do everything like an earthpony otherwise. Everypony in town favored her - she was a cutie, and ever filled with wonder and excitement about everything. "Ith a thow! A thow ith comfin to thown! ITH A THOW! A THOW!!!" Old Saltlick came around from behind the counter - bar, thought Dumpy - and got Watercress to calm down and give him the paper sheet in her mouth, so that she could speak clearly. "There's a big show and it's comin' to town and it's gonna be all wow and everything! It's comin' to town! And it's big, I mean really big!" Watercress was particularly excited today. "A show! And it's comin'!" "Which town, Watercress? How far away is this show?" Nutbrown still had a hoof on the smooth disk he was about to give a push to. He had pulled ahead in the scoring, he could win with this slide. "What kind'a show is it, anyways?" Sackbarrel nudged his clever friend Stonebridge "Is it one of them dress-up shows, where they put on socks and parade around?" "You behave yourself, there Sacks, or I'll make you pay for your cider after all." Saltlick had been on to the pair for years, so it was a meaningful threat. Sackbarrel made the effort to look properly contrite. It wasn't authentic, but it was something at least. Good enough, thought Saltlick. "Here, I'll tell ya, what kinda show Watercress is goin' on about. It's in the flyer she brought. Les' see now..." "It's a variety show! They have dancing and singing and dancing bunnies and singing birds and singing ponies and dancing ponies - but no dancing birds. I wonder why birds don't dance?" Watercress was bouncing on her hooves. "She's right, it's called the Happy Pony Show, and they've got all that and more, it seems." Saltlick studied the sheet, clearly ripped from the village noticeboard. "They're doin' a tour of... pretty much all of Equestria. Seems this thing has been goin' on for nigh on a decade now. Well, how about that? It's just gotten bigger and bigger over the years and... well, if that don't beat all!" Old Saltlick drifted off, studying the fine print at the bottom. "What don't beat all? Ya can't leave us in suspense, Salt! Out with it!" Two Nails had entirely forgotten Equestrian Shuffleboard now, and had moved with the rest to cluster around the edge of the counter. "It's comin' here all right." Saltlick seemed surprised. "No doubt about it. Right here. As in it's comin' to Martingale!" "Wait, here-here?" Nutbrown seemed incredulous "As in here... here... right here? Martingale On the hoofin' Hackamore here?" "Eeyup! We're gettin' ourselves a right proper show, right here, in Martingale." Saltlick looked around at the stunned faces. "Sumptin' ain't it?" "I told you! I told you!" Watercress was trying to muscle in between Nutbrown and Two Nails to see the flyer on the counter again "I said, 'we're getting a show' and guess what? We're getting a show, just like I said! Isn't it awesome!" "I don't rightly know, tell the truth. Just what kind of acts are in this thing, and I don't just mean birds tweetin'!" Sackbarrel wasn't an easily impressed stallion. "Any famous names on that little sheet?" "What, you actually know any famous names there Sackbarrel?" Two Nails had always been just a little jealous that Sackbarrel had gotten to go to school the next county over. Sacks was sometimes a little too proud of the fact, Dumpy had noted. "Yes, I know a few names, on with it, Saltlick, or let me read the foundering thing myself!" The air had become thick with tension at this singular event. As far as Dumpy had been able to learn, nothing ever happened to Martingale On Hackamore, ever. Not ever. A show, any kind of show, was a once in... forever... event. "Alright, alright, keep your tail down. Actin' like a bunch'a pink-winkin' first-heat fillies the lot of ya!" It was then that Saltlick suddenly remembered the presence of young Watercress, who had brought the note in the first place. Saltlick looked ashamed "Um, sorry there, 'Cress. Meant no harm." "Huh?" Watercress hadn't even heard, she was still intently trying to read the flyer over the back of Two Nails. Saltlick looked greatly relieved and cleared his throat "Ahem! Well, less' see here. We got dancin' bunnies, just like she said..." he nodded at Watercress "...some filly named Plantain Acres has a whole peck a' trained bunnies - they dance, they march, they do fancy steppin' all over the place and finish with gymnastics - she's got the whole lot leapin' and hoppin' to music. Best Lagomorphic entertainment this side a' Los Pegasus, whatever that means. She's also got some rhythmic click'n banana spiders with her too, and I don't know what all." "O...kay." That didn't particularly excite Sackbarrel too much "What else this thing got?" Saltlick glanced at the sheet again " There's a dancin' spectacle involvin' pegasai. They hover through the air without so much as a flap of th' wing, or so it says." "That ain't possible! Pegasus gotta' flap or he up and fall!" Stonebridge wasn't buying it. "Ain't no flyin' without flappin' much less dancin' in the air. That's just foalish nonsense!" "That's what it says, see for yourself!" Saltlick pushed the sheet closer to the carpenter. "Also, it's not a HE it's a She pegasus, and what appears to be a whole flock of feathered mares right behind her doin' the same thing!" Stonebridge did just that. He only knew how to read a little, but he still made the effort. "Well... maybe. But I still say ya gotta flap if ya wanna fly!" "How 'bout this, then? They got a whole herd a' fancy singers doin' show tunes and songs from earthponies. No, not earthponies, from... Earth. What? Show tunes from dirt?" Saltlick looked confused. Dumpy's ears stood tall and straight at this. "Mebby they's SOIL tunes!" Nutbrown had a good chuckle. "Not soil tunes, show tunes, and it's from that thing from fifteen years ago! Remember?" Sackbarrel spoke like he was addressing foals "The thing! In the sky! Princess Celestia herself, the day bless her, appeared right over the middle of the village and talked about some other world, and immigrants and then there was that right pretty song and everything! Don't you recall? How many times have you seen Celestia herself hangin' in the sky?" He had come just short of adding 'you numbskulls!' "Hey, I remember that!" Two Nails seemed proud to use his memory "That was some mighty impressive speechifyin' plus it was all up in the sky... and I can still remember that song!" He began to hum the sweet, beautiful tune. "Yeah! That was swell pretty! I hope they do that song again!" Stonebridge joined in. Nopony could remember the words, but it really was a catchy tune. Saltlick broke in "Hey... it looks like we got us a special guest too! Looky here! Says' there may even be a special appearance by the Princess herself, schedule permittin'. Well, don't that beat all. We done seen her in the sky, now we mebby get to see her in person! Will wonders never cease!" "So, are we gonna go, huh, huh?" Watercress was bouncing again, excited beyond measure. Likely because she wanted to see the dancing bunnies, more than anything. "Can't hardly not go, 'Cress!" Sackbarrel rolled his eyes "'Cause it's comin' right here straight to US! Dumpy suddenly found himself choking on his cider.
9. Yeah, them chicken coops was full of bearsThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance9. Yeah, them chicken coops was full of bears It had taken a whole day to construct the stage. The wagons had been flown in, pulled by teams of pegasai, all wearing blue roadie tack and billed caps with the bright yellow Happy Pony Show logo emblazoned upon them. The wagons were cleverly built so that they would unfold like puzzle boxes to form the stage and the scaffolding, with the various pieces of the finished construction lifted by the pegasai and locked into place by roadie unicorns. Roadie earthponies hauled set pieces and hammered whatever needed hammering, which from the sounds that filled the ears of the villagers was quite a lot. Dumpy had occasionally stolen peeks at the stage construction as he went about his daily tour of Martingale, and when he dared, even a full on steamy gawk or two. Once he thought he caught a glimpse of none other than Thunder Road among the busy pegasai, but he couldn't be sure. He found himself both terrified and strangely happy at the appearance of the touring show - he was all but certain that it must have derived from the old Newfoal Society. The big question was whether or not the original cast was still involved. When he had fled, fifteen years ago, he had been terrified the lot would end up statues decorating parks across Equestria. But now... now he was no longer so sure. In his decade and a half in Martingale On Hackamore, Dumpy had seen Equestria in a new way, with increasingly open eyes. He had listened to the lives of every pony in the village, and he had come to know these fine citizens. He had come to know their hearts, their souls, and through them the essence of the Equestrian spirit. These were not strange invaders, nor were they fanatical PER members out to force ponification on anypony. They were a kinder, nicer breed than Man, and very different than he had imagined after his sudden and unplanned transformation. Ponies cared about each other and all living creatures before things, knowledge about themselves and others before knowledge about the world, and sharing was a greater treasure to them than the accumulation of wealth. They weren't saints - there were rascals and fools and grumpy sorts among them, snotty airheads and sniveling brown-nosers too. But when tickle came to spank, not once, not ever, would a pony truly abandon another, or gain at the expense of another, or fail to make up for a slight. Equestrians were ruled by their better angels at all times, whatever their apparent temperament. One time, Dumpy had run a little psychological experiment to see just how far this virtue went. He carefully placed a neatly stacked pile of bits on a fence post right next to the main road through the village. Then he left it there for two weeks, as every pony he knew passed by it, and a few from other villages, passing through, that he did not know. Some stopped and looked at the pile, some remarked to each other about it. Once he saw a foal - tiny Vanilla, Sweetcream's little filly - stop her mother so she could count the coins in the stack out loud. Vanilla was learning her numbers, and was ever so eager to count everything she could, to make her mother proud. When she was done, Sweetcream praised her little filly, and off they trotted, the stack untouched. At the end of two weeks, Dumpy went and collected his coins and took them home. He realized that he could store his coins anywhere, anywhere at all, and they would not be taken. It was likely, he reckoned, that a single coin laying in the dirt would be picked up - that was reasonable - but a neat stack was clearly an intentional thing. A purposeful thing, and even the poorest pony wouldn't steal it, because it just wouldn't be right. And not one of them needed the fear of some punishment, either natural or divine, to keep them honest. They were honest because they just plain cared. Somepony would miss those coins, wouldn't they? If this was what Equestrians were, then the being that created them just couldn't be bad. It was only reasonable to judge a creator by their creation, and if these were the beings that Celestia had chosen to bring into existence, if this was the sort of universe she had needed to make, then she just plain couldn't be mean or arbitrary. If that was true, then it seemed less and less likely that she would turn any member of the Newfoal Society to stone. Dumpy remembered Soliloquy - even there, Celestia hadn't so much punished a threat to her rule as gifted a profoundly unhappy pony with a vastly better life. Maybe that was the Equestrian equivalent of human execution - if a pony was so unhappy that they could never behave, then Celestia's answer was to give them a time out until the world was more what they needed, so they would have no reason to act out. Celestia was immortal. A time out for her could be a very, very long time to a normal pony. If the Happy Pony Show was the Newfoal Society reborn, then it seemed reasonable that the old troupe was still around, somewhere, and not as statues. They'd all ended up happy as pie, they were no longer malcontents. The only malcontent left, had been Dumpy himself. That too had faded, with time. Dumpy was sad about only one thing any longer. He really wished he didn't have to hide away, and sit quiet in a back corner of the pub, and remain alone. If only he could just be a normal pony, and not carry around all the poisonous Earth stuff inside him - like knowing what an 'execution' even was. Watercress and her parents Sundew and Clover sat forward and to the right of Dumpy. The little filly was beyond excited, and several times Sundew had to shush her and get her to settle down and the show hadn't even started yet. Dumpy's speculation that she was here for the bunnies had been verified, it was all the giggly little unicorn could talk about. Off to Dumpy's left, and even closer to the front was Stonebridge and Sackbarrel, they seemed for once not to be up to anything and were behaving themselves. The exceptional novelty of anything at all happening in the tiny farming village of Martingale was perhaps so overwhelming that the two friends had no reason to fuss about or prank anypony. They seemed subdued, almost in awe, trying to soak in the fact that there was a stage, right there, in front of them, where just a day before there had been Old Roan Summersquash's fallow field facing the road that ran by the village. Dumpy had the distinct impression that if all that happened was just the stage being there, Stonebridge and Sackbarrel would consider it the best day of their lives even if nothing else went on. This was likely true for more than a few of the villagers, and the fact of that made Dumpy smile for some reason. His village was such a simple, innocent place, and he realized that at some point in the last fifteen years he had completely fallen in love with it. Martingale On Hackamore wasn't just a place for him to hide in anymore. It was home. Warm, safe, utterly irreplaceable home. Dumpy shifted on his hay bale - that was the seating for this shindig - and looked around at the crowd. Nutbrown, Glade Blossom and Stormy, Old Saltlick, Two-Nails and his husband Ringlet, the Pumpkin twins and even that pushy rascal Cornhusk... They were a family to Dumpy, inside his heart. They didn't know it, he never expressed it, but they were the most dear ponies he had ever known, the most precious treasure in his life, the lot of them. He laughed when they felt joy, and felt sad when things didn't go their way. Living in the shadows, hiding in the back corner of the Refreshetorium and Sometimes Inn, there was no way they could even begin to understand how deeply he felt. His village, his ponies, his best friends who didn't even know him. There was a tear in Dumpy's eye, but it wasn't exactly sadness, not exactly. It was more like wistfulness, with a big helping of simple joy - gladness that he at least got to live in the shadow of such a happy, beautiful place. It was a gift, just to sit in the back, it really was. Still, he wished... no. No, that was silly thinking. Celestia's glorious sun was setting as the lights came on illuminating the stage, as well as the hayfields, for miles around. Dumpy could see the Bevelmeiter tubes whirring off to the side of the stage, thaumatic engines driving the arcane lighting system. The old Society had really come a long way, even from that last performance in Manehattan - they had some seriously fanciful equipment, and a lot of roadie ponies to make it all work. The splendid twenty-four piece orchestra at the far back of the stage began tuning their instruments. The familiar sound made Dumpy's heart race - he recalled his own excitement, running around behind the flats, as stage manager, making sure everything was perfect before the curtain raised. That had been a bit of fun, he realized. Somewhat thankless at times, but very satisfying at the end of a successful show. Dumpy's right ear twitched, rotating to focus intently on a location somewhere behind the backdrop at the rear of the stage. His left ear swiveled to join, locking on. For a moment, Dumpy had thought he had heard the voice of Royal! Quickly he scanned the scene for any sign of a deep purple coat. No, it was too much to hope for... and come to think of it, maybe it was for the best. He had almost not even come, for fear of being recognized and pointed out. But he just couldn't hide in his little cottage, whatever the risk. He wanted to see a show again so much, he wanted some evidence his old society mates had ended up alright and not stone, he wanted... he wasn't sure what he wanted, really, but he was awful sure that he wanted it. There was no way he could possibly not be here. The arcane lights focused on a single mare who had stepped out to the front of the stage. She was very young, and strangely familiar, though Dumpy was sure he had never seen her before. She was a unicorn the color of heliotrope, deep, rich and intense. Her stage presence was astonishing, despite being obviously nervous. Still, her voice was impressively commanding when she finally spoke. "Let us all stand for the Pledge Of Equestria!" The village stood as one. All gave a short traditional bow, in deference to the crown, and then began the familiar recitation. "We Pledge Allegiance to Harmony To Compassion and Friendship for All With Love and Reverence for All Living Things No matter how Great or how Small And To Each Other we pledge our Lives Our herd, united as One We are the Joy of Equestria In Peace under Moon and Sun" Dumpy found himself wiping his eyes after he sat down again. He couldn't help it. The pledge of allegiance for Equestria. There was nothing about any flag, it was not about pledging to the crown, or the state, or any deity - even though Equestria had two of them. The allegiance here was purely and only to each other, to mutual kindness, to compassion itself, with the land and its rulers being barely noted at all. It was utterly unearthly, truly alien - and Dumpy loved it dearly. It was the only pledge he had ever spoken that he truly, actually meant and believed in. He hadn't felt forced to say this pledge - he had wanted to say it. The little heliotrope filly nervously giggled then, which made the audience laugh, and she scampered off the stage. The orchestra played a bouncy little opening piece and then an earthpony stallion walked onto the stage. His coat was the deepest, richest purple, his mane golden and silken. Around his long neck was a shiny gold Lamé tie and collar that sparkled in the arcane lights. There was no doubt. It was Royal! Royal was not only alive and well, he was still in showbiz, and Dumpy quite forgot himself and pumped his hoof while shouting "YEAH! ROYAL! HOOO!" while around him the rest of the village simply clapped their hooves or stomped. Dumpy slumped down on his haybale when he noticed a curious look from Nutbrown at his antics. "Welcome, everypony! Wow! What a lovely village you have here, I must say! We're all pretty excited to be here in... um..." Royal paused for the briefest of moments - "Martingale On Hackamore!" The villagers cheered at this, some waved their forehooves in the air, while others stomped in proper pony applause. Many hooted loudly - all were excited that this fancy show pony even knew the name of their village. For the first time ever, they all felt truly special. "How about some applause for my daughter there, who led the pledge?" The villagers, always happy to cheer on a youngster, thundered their approval. "Wow! Thank you for that! What a warm welcome here in Martingale! Her name is Eloquence, and maybe we can convince her to come back later in the show!" Another round of cheers followed. "Alright, we have a really great evening for you tonight at the Happy Pony Show, we have dancing bunnies, pegasus ballet, a fantastic magic show by a really talented unicorn, music, comedy, and a lot more!" Royal was, as ever, in his element, and Dumpy felt so glad, so very happy, just to see him up there doing what he did best. 'Eloquence', Dumpy thought to himself... the name... suddenly it hit him why the little filly had looked familiar. She resembled them so much, Royal and Soliloquy both. Eloquence must be the foal of both Soliloquy and Royal. Dumpy grinned. That was sweet. That meant Soliloquy must be alright too. They must all be alright, all the old members of the Newfoal Society! Dumpy relaxed at that realization. He had been wrong, and he was so glad of the fact. Maybe Golden and Bitsworth were here somewhere! Perhaps he would get to see Chair and Honeybutter - oh, sweet Luna, their foals must be really big now - and oh! Dumpy suddenly realized that the pegasus ballet could only be the work of Thunder Road. She must be here, as he had thought earlier! Oh this was wonderful! Maybe, just maybe, perhaps, he would work up the courage to go see them, backstage, after the show... oh, dare he? Would that even be a good idea? His head swum with the notion, and his heart beat fast in his chest. Oh my, the whole gang... Dumpy suddenly startled and realized that he had missed, in his ruminations, quite a bit of what Royal had been saying. He decided he'd better put his concerns and thoughts on hold, or he'd miss the show, and he didn't want to do that. Royal was explaining the next act, it seemed, to an audience who could have no idea whatsoever of anything about it. "...before the Collapse, humans went through a period of vast growth - both in technology and in population. At the time, it seemed like there were no limits to that growth, so the humans enjoyed shipping goods from everywhere to anywhere for the slightest of reasons. They did this in self-powered carriages called 'trucks', large boxy things that ran on wheels like a cart. They were completely closed, like barns on wheels, really, and the humans that controlled them rode in a little cabin at the front." Royal was doing a good job, but the villagers of Martingale were clearly a bit confused. "Now these trucks, these barns on wheels, ran on vast, incredibly long roads that were made of a kind of false stone that was made from something like tar, and poured out like paint. These highways ran for hundreds, even thousands of miles! Human cities would be dozens or hundreds of miles apart, and so the 'trucks' would take stuff from one city to another, perhaps even all the way to the end of one of those incredibly long highways!" The villagers of Martingale On Hackamore tried to wrap their imaginations around all of this, as best they could. The scale of such a thing was almost beyond them. "Now these 'truckers' as they called themselves, in that age of plenty, they had a new technology - a new magic, if you will - called 'Cee Bee Radios'. These were little boxes that every truck had, that allowed the truckers to talk with each other almost regardless of the distance. They could literally hear each others voices - though the sound was a little distorted, which we will be trying to mimic here for you. They had their own culture, their own slang words, their own way of doing things!" Royal paced across the stage as he explained it all. "Now this was a big deal to the humans of that time and place, and they wrote songs about this little subculture of truck drivers. What we've done is taken one of the most famous songs that survived from that period, and re-written it to fit with the advent of the Conversion Bureaus and the Newfoals I told you about at the beginning." As Royal spoke, a number of other performers took the stage, and among them Dumpy clearly noted Bitsworth, with his deep voice, and Chair as well. Then came Honeybutter and what must her filly Daisy Dew, all grown up. And there was Thunder Road, apparently ready to sing, and Argent and Topic and many more ponies that Dumpy had never met. "So," Royal nodded at the orchestra, who began to pound out a martial drum beat "I want to present to you a treasure of old Earth, re-written for the modern day, as performed by the Happy Pony Show company! Colt W. McFoal's immortal epic entitled 'Convoy: a CB (Conversion Bureau) Story'!!!" The music swelled, as Bitsworth cupped his hooves around his muzzle to simulate the buzzing effect of an ancient terrestrial communications device... (Sung to the tune of 'Convoy' by CW McCall [On the CB] "Ah, breaker one-nine, this here's old Rainbow Dash. You gotta copy on me, Big Mac, c'mon? Ah, yeah, 10-4, Big Mac, fer shure, fer shure. By golly, it's clean clear to Ponyville, c'mon. Yeah, that's a big 10-4 there, Big Mac, yeah, we definitely got the barn door, good pony. Luna's Silver Hoof, looks like we got us a convoy..." Was the princesses' moon on the sixth of June In a Kenworth pullin' flasks Cab-over Pete with a potion tank Jus'Doin'what Celestia asks H-L-F on our tail, on I-one-oh 'Bout a mile outta Bureau Town I says, "Big Mac, this here's Ol' Rainbow Dash. "And I'm about to put my blue hoof down." [Chorus] 'Cause we got a little convoy Trottin' through the night. Yeah, we got a little convoy, Ain't she a beautiful sight? Come on and sip some potion Get your ass converted today! We gonna hoof this Newfoal convoy To Eques-tri-A Convoy! [On the CB] "Ah, breaker, Big Mac, this here's the Dash. And, you wanna buck off them foals? Yeah, 10-4, 'bout five mile or so. Ten, roger. Them Newfoals ain't been barn-trained yet." By the time we got into Tulsa Town, We had eighty-five trucks in all. But they's a roadblock up on the cloverleaf, H-L-F was wall-to-wall. Yeah, them Fronters was thick as bugs on a bumper; No, them humans don't like to play fair I says, "Hey, Pegasai, this here's the Dash. "Hitch up we need'ta catch some air." [Chorus] We got tankers full of potion, flyin' through the day Yeah, we got a flying convoy, Pegasai came out to play Come on and sip some potion Get your ass converted today! We gonna soar this Newfoal convoy To Eques-tri-A Convoy! [On the CB] "Ah, you wanna give me a 10-9 on that, Big Mac? Negatory, Big Mac; you're still too close. Yeah, them foals is startin' to close up my sinuses. Muffin sakes, you better back off another ten." Well, we soared up Interstate 44 Doin' Rainbooms all the way The last of the humans in the back Traded up hands for hooves that day By the time we hit Bureau-town, H-L-F was gettin' smart: They'd brought up some reinforcements From the Illinois Humanist Guard. There's corp'rate mechs, and hover-tanks, And Blackmesh done gone fringe Yeah, them H-L-F was full'a fight Their blood-lust made us cringe We stampeded their line and we went for broke With a thousand flyin' trucks An' eleven long-tailed Friends a' Luna In a potion-stained micra-bus. (Huzzah!) [On the CB] "Ah, Rainbow Dash to Applejack, come over. Yeah, 10-4, Applejack? Lissen, you wanna put that micra-bus in behind that truck full of Newfoals? Yeah, they just got converted, and not one a'them is potty trained." Well, we laid a strip for the Barrier And prepared to cross the shield I couldn't see the dome for H-L-F Our pegasai weren't about to yield I says, "Big Mac, this here's the Rainbow Dash. "We just ain't a-gonna play their game." So we crashed the shield in our flyin' trucks I says "Let them buckers wail, 10-4." [Chorus] There's Newfoals in our cattle-cars, flyin' to their home Yeah, we got a flying convoy, We just made it through the dome I hope you sipped some potion Or else you won't make it today We gonna fly this Newfoal convoy To Eques-tri-A Convoy! Convoy! "Ah, 10-4, Big Mac, what's our next run?" Convoy! "OMAHA? Well, I just got me some silver sexy-pony mudflaps and a Bobble-Head Celestia onna dashboard" Convoy! "Ten four good buddy, my co-pilot is taking a powder for the next half hour, he's getting his hooves on, copy?" Convoy! "I like your 'Honk If You Love Celestia' bumper sticker. This here's the Rainbow Dash on the side." Convoy! "We gone. 'Bye,'bye." Not a single pony in the village understood any of it, but they enjoyed the bouncy tune and the general oddness of it all. None of them had ever seen a real fancy-like show before, and if nothing else, the spectacle itself was more than enough. They stomped their hooves excitedly, more for the fact of the show itself simply existing than for an actual appreciation of the piece at hoof. Dumpy, for his part, had been in stitches, but it was little Watercress who summed up the native Equestrian outlook best of all. "Bring on the bunnies!"
10. Love is a song that never endsThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance10. Love is a song that never ends Somewhat to the disappointment of both the singers and the dancers... and the orchestra, and the pegasus ballet company, and the actors and the boastful unicorn magician sulking behind the flats, the hit of the entire show was Plantain Acres and her marching bunnies. Her gigantic rhythmic banana spiders got their share of applause, certainly - you don't stiff your appreciation for giant spiders, whatever they decide to perform - Plantain's bunnies clearly stole the show. The brutal fact is that... well, you just can't beat bunnies. Especially when they do synchronized marching and dancing. Not even a hovering, perfectly still pegasus beats bunnies. At least not in a fringe-of-Equestria village like Martingale On Hackamore. It wasn't that the show hadn't been a success - far from it. Everypony in Martingale had driven their hooves to numbness and tingling from clapping and stomping - Old Saltlick complained he couldn't feel his frogs anymore at all, and Two Nails had such sore pasterns that he was limping when he had to go to the outhouse during the intermission. Not a single villager had ever put their hooves through such abuse over anything in such a short time, and they were all hard-working ponies the lot of them. Many had sore throats from hooting and hollering their approval and excitement, and poor little Watercress could hardly speak at all, for all the laughing and shrieking she had done at both the bunnies and the spiders both. Dumpy had been very glad he had come to see the show. Now that it was almost over, he was feeling mighty sad, actually. He'd made up his mind not to go backstage, because it would just cause endless trouble. He wanted, desperately, to speak to his old Society friends, but if he did that, then he would be Noticed by the villagers, and there would be Questions, not the simple kind but the Capital Q kind of Questions, the sort that would forever change his life in Martingale. He'd probably have to up and leave, just to avoid it all - they'd never let him be the invisible dung pony in the back, once he was connected to the Only Show To Ever Pass Through Martingale. No, no, no... there is no way he could talk to any of his old friends. Royal was concluding the show, bringing the performers out for final bows and more pain for the weary, clapped-out hooves of the villagers. "...hope you enjoyed our little show, and if you'll let us, maybe someday we just might be back this way to..." Royal stopped speaking, which made the audience curious. Somepony, a pale fuchsia mare, was pointing from the rear corner of the stage. Royal tried to follow her hoof "Are you sure? This isn't like that time in Greater Fetlock, right?" The mare just offstage seemed very adamant, which only made the audience even more curious what the hay was going on. Royal whispered something to the mare, she forcefully whispered something back, and it was at this point that Dumpy began to realize that her hoof was pointing more or less at his side of the audience, and that made him very nervous to say the least. He slumped down as low as he could, trying to get his head down behind the portly barrel of Sugarloaf the Beet-Farmer. Dumpy scanned left and right, seeing if there was any way he could sneak off through the crowd without drawing attention to himself, and considering there wasn't anything to actually hide behind other than the ponies around him, he decided to stay put. The villagers were looking about trying to see what the fuss was that had caused the concern on stage. There was no way Dumpy figured he could do anything but stay quiet and still. "Just a moment folks! We may have a special surprise for you tonight!" Royal had returned to the center of the large wooden stage. "We've been waiting for this moment for... oh, about just over a decade, more or less, and my wife tells me that... you're sure you're sure? Ok, then, burn the envelope. If you're sure, then do it." The pale fuchsia unicorn mare levitated a wax-sealed envelope into the mystic flame of one of the arcane lights that illuminated the stage so brightly. The envelope went up in a burst of strange green fire, which then collected into a ball and shot off into the night sky towards the north-west. This got the attention of the audience, who thought it was quite the fanciful trick, whatever it was. "Fillies and colts, mares and gentlestallions, I have an announcement to make!" Royal approached the edge of the stage. Behind him, several members of the troupe took the stage and joined the master of ceremonies. Dumpy instantly recognized them. The fuchsia unicorn was Soliloquy, of course, and she gave Royal a nuzzle as she stood by him. Their daughter, Eloquence, pushed her body between them getting nuzzles from both for the effort. There was Chair and Honeybutter and Daisy Dew, to the other side of Royal. Argent and Hot Topic stood close to Chair and Honeybutter, Argent gave his husband a quick kiss. Thunder Road, rose up and flew down to stand by Soliloquy, flaring her bright crimson wings just before a perfect stop. Dumpy didn't see Golden Showers, but he did see Bitsworth, who trotted up beside Thunder and gave her a nod and a wink. It was nearly the entire original group from The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society, all together, right there at the front of the stage. Royal followed his wife's pointing hoof once more, squinting through the arcane light in his muzzle. Suddenly he smiled and the smile became a grin. He nodded and visibly relaxed, apparently this was not going to be like whatever happened in Greater Fetlock. Dumpy tried harder to remain hidden behind Sugarloaf, and tried to will himself invisible. He didn't at all like where this was clearly going, and despite the best efforts of his mind to deny it, he was sure that Soliloquy's hoof had been pointed square at him. "Everypony - The Happy Pony Show wasn't always what you have seen today." Royal adjusted his trademark tie with a hoof. "It all started as a sort of therapy group for disgruntled Newfoals, more or less. We started out complaining about our lot in life, pretty silly really, in retrospect... but at the time it seemed to be a big deal, and we found ways to communicate our issues with others. From that humble beginning, we became the touring company we are today, and through it all, we've stayed together, as a big extended family!" Royal nodded at the rest of the ponies on stage, and gave his wife and daughter a loving nuzzle. "Our family has grown over the years, as you can imagine!" The remaining cast and crew of the show had taken the stage as Royal spoke, lining up behind the original Society ponies - dancers, performers, arcane lighting and soundspell crew, and all the roadies too. Dumpy peeked over the withers and ears of Sugarloaf at the stage, completely filled with ponies, some in costume, some wearing roadie tack and hats, some with tool-tack and saddlebags across their backs. All seemed expectant, excited, as if finally coming to the end of some grand quest. As Dumpy gazed upon the crowded stage, he felt a strange pressure in the air, the sort of feeling that occurs when the pegasai start piling dark and swollen clouds up overhead in preparation for a scheduled summer thunderstorm. A strange glow, the colors of the morning began to shine, and briefly Dumpy wondered if the show had lasted all night and he had failed to notice. "All of us have been on tour, and we've seen parts of Equestria we didn't even know existed. It's been a fabulous, wonderful adventure, but always, in our thoughts, has been one pony, one of our original members, our first stage manager. He was a dear friend, though we didn't really show him that as much as we should have." Dumpy felt tears well up in his eyes as Royal spoke - he never thought they cared, not enough to remember him after all this time, not like this. He had no idea what to think, but it was completely clear that there was no point in hiding anymore. Dumpy sat up straight, and gave a little wave. Soliloquy and Argent both noticed - Argent raised a hoof slightly, and Soliloquy gave Dumpy a warm smile. "But maybe it would be best for me to hush now, because nothing I could say could equal simply her presence here. I would like to present to you, her majesty, princess Celestia of Equestria!" After a quick glance above, Royal bowed deep and low, and immediately with him so did the entire cast and crew of the Happy Pony Show. The audience followed the brightening of the light to a swirling glow above the backdrop of the stage. The glow receded leaving a shining white, winged shape hovering above the stage. Instantly the citizens of the tiny village of Martingale On Hackamore instinctively bowed as well as an ineffable, wonderfully loving, and transcendent presence washed over them. Those on stage parted leaving space for her majesty to land. Gold shod hooves touched lightly on the wooden planks, as her perfect wings folded to her side. The princess of the sun smiled radiantly at all, her ethereal mane shimmering in soft blues, greens and coral shades, ever swirling in some esoteric breeze beyond understanding. "Bucket, your loving friends have long sought to find you, as also have we." Dumpy quavered as he gazed up. Around him the villagers looked about, confused. They knew every pony in their small village, and every pony nearby, and not one of them was named 'Bucket'. Who was this 'Bucket' the princess seemed to think was here? Bucket? They turned to each other asking if anypony had heard of a 'Bucket', or had a cousin in another county, or... Dumpy swallowed, and tried not to cry. Slowly he stood up among the still partly bowing villagers and briefly looked around at them, at all the ponies he had known and loved from afar for so many years. Old Saltlick gave him the most curious look. Nutbrown shook his head, as if to say 'get down, Dumpy, she isn't addressing you!'. Dumpy turned his head back to Celestia. It was very different seeing her after all his village years, up on a stage under arcane lights yet glowing with her own light, wise and ancient beyond measure. "Hi, guys. Um... Princess." Dumpy felt his legs shake, they felt weak, like he might just collapse right there and then. "I... um... I missed you, too." And then it all became a swirl of motion and color - somehow the audience managed to part and make way as his old Society friends poured down from the stage like water over a waterfall to surround him and hug him and greet him and scold him too, and it was happy, and sad, and confusing and crowded, but more than anything it was wonderful. So many words were all said at once, and he felt caught up in some great whirlwind of sound and greeting and kisses and questions. It was impossible for the little stallion to keep track of it all, but it was happy, and that was all that mattered. In short order, the village learned that their quietest and most reserved citizen was really a pony of some note, that he had been a member of whatever it was that had happened fifteen years ago up in the sky, and that he was loved by all these impressive and important show-pony folk. They learned that his name wasn't 'Dumpy Dungcart', or at least it hadn't always been, and that he had once been called 'Bucket', and that he was one of these 'Newfoals' that Celestia cared about so much. Dumpy - he had lived under that name for fifteen years now, and his old name just didn't seem to belong to him anymore - was dragged away by his old friends backstage, where there was cider and fancy, tasty treats from all over Equestria to nibble, and more hugs and more questions and many stories about what had happened to everypony over the years. While this went on, Celestia, princess of the sun and ruler of all Equestria talked to the villagers of Martingale On Hackamore. She explained many things to them, things they had never understood about Equestria and about the lonely little dungcart pony that lived among them. When she had heard from the villagers about his strange isolation, her ageless wisdom let her counsel them on what had almost certainly made him act that way, and how she did not wish his sad isolation to be allowed to continue. In the week that had followed, the cast and crew of the Happy Pony show had become like some big extended family to the citizens of Martingale, cousins from afar. Watercress got to play with the the marvelous dancing bunnies, and became close to their trainer, Plantain. Argent and Topic found the taste of Martingale cider much to their liking, and quickly became the center of attention at Old Saltlick's Not-Pub with their wild stories and clever banter. Somehow they ended up involved in some kind of insane prank with Stonebridge and Sackbarrel, and somehow Sackbarrel's general store got trashed in the process, but nopony was hurt, thankfully, though whatever it was was Not To Be Spoken Of in the future. Two Nails took some kind of fancy to Thunder Road, and not a lot was seen of either of them for most of the week, Nutbrown and Cornhusk couldn't seem to get enough of Bitsworth, who had learned to do all manner of clever prestohoofitation and other curious tricks - they bothered him incessantly for another demonstration. Glade Blossom and Stormy found much to talk about with Chair and Honeybutter - it seemed that Glade had a marvelous singing voice, though she was more interested in Honeybutter's experience raising her foals. Glade was worried about her own impending day of delivery. Dumpy found out that Golden Showers had left the company to pursue full-time philanthropy, giving away prizes was not enough now that he had the bug to help other ponies. Apparently he had done some wonderful things all across Equestria in terms of setting up charity organizations to provide numerous services to any who wanted them. But the biggest moment for Dumpy was when Celestia had asked him to walk with her. "I know why you ran away, my little pony, and it is my wish that you stop running now." They walked beside the slowly rolling Hackamore river, down the road that Dumpy took his cart. Celestia had noted how beautiful the flowers grew along the route. "Y-you want me t-to rejoin the show?" Dumpy felt miserable at that prospect, he really did deeply love living in Martingale, and the last thing he wanted now was to leave his wonderful home and all the ponies he had come to love so much. "No, no, not at all. I wish you to stop running away." Dumpy had stopped when the princess did, her eyes were intent on him, filled with timeless compassion. "I... princess, I don't want to hurt these ponies! I don't dare... I don't dare get close or..." Dumpy felt like crying. How could he explain the threat he represented, with his head full of Earth and Man and war and torture and murder and violence? "Dumpy." Only the princess never failed to remember his new name - Royal and the others were always slipping and calling him 'Bucket'. "The song that made you run away. Tell me why you ran." Dumpy blinked. "I thought you said you already knew why I ran away?" "I do, but I want you to tell me, in your own words." Celestia was quiet and patient. Dumpy looked down and dug a small furrow with a hoof in the dirt road. "That song, it was... the anthem of the Nazi Party. They were one of the most evil groups in the entire history of Mankind and..." Celestia cut him off. "No. None of that is true." "What?" Dumpy was astonished. "Tomorrow Belongs To Me was written by the humans John Kander and Fred Ebb for a musical show called 'Cabaret'. It was written after the style of German songs of the period the show was about, but the song itself never existed until that musical. But even if it had been an authentic Nazi Party song, what would it have mattered?" Celestia smiled softly at the little stallion. "But... evil... and..." Dumpy stammered, unable to process what the princess meant. "This is Equestria, Dumpy. Here, no matter what its history, it would only be a pretty song. That's all it could ever be. Do you really think that my little ponies could be swayed to become evil by a pretty little song? Do you think they could ever become evil at all? Could you, now, do evil, even if you wanted to?" It struck Dumpy how incredibly tall Celestia was. She towered over him. "N..no! And I wouldn't ever even want to be evil, not ever!" Dumpy blurted out. "Of course you wouldn't. Nopony wants to hurt anypony, or any other creature. It's part of what being Equestrian means." Celestia gave the upset little stallion a comforting nuzzle. "With very few exceptions, every Newfoal became a true child of Equestria. Conversion was more than just trading hands for hooves, my little pony. Never doubt that your heart is as pure as that of any other Equestrian, whatever you may remember of your old world. Knowing something is not the same as having the sort of heart that could actually do it. Do you understand?" "I... I think so, princess." Dumpy found himself smiling. "How do you know all of that, I mean, about the song and all?" Celestia looked at him for a moment, then performed a very affected accent "I vut nefer consiter infating bevor pervorming initial tactical rezerch!" Dumpy stared, open mouthed at this, then burst out laughing. Tears came to his eyes. It was astonishing to hear the princess, the goddess of the very sun, sound so silly, so whimsical, so... fun. "Despite what you may have heard, Dumpy Dungcart, I am not nearly as grim as some would make me out to be." It was a revelation for the little stallion. The ruler of all Equestria could do funny voices and make ponies laugh. Celestia was far more interesting and complex than he had realized. One thing bothered him now, though. "W-why... why are you... well, bothering... with me?" It was a reasonable question. After all, he was nopony. There were... well there must be billions, just billions of Newfoals in Equestria now. Why would the princess of the sun bother... with little Dumpy Dungcart from Martingale On Hackamore? Was there more to this, was something going on that he didn't understand or... "Your little Newfoal Society did the crown a great service, Dumpy." Celestia was being serious now, Dumpy didn't see any laughter in her eyes or her tone. "Your show presented an opportunity to let the Newfoals be seen as equal, positive, and valued members of Equestria. It also presented a means to relieve a certain amount of building political tension, a necessary thing to take care of every few decades. Your whimsical irreverence was exactly what was needed at precisely the right time." Dumpy thought about it. It was likely that the court of the princess may not have been in entire agreement with her decision to take in billions of strange refugees from a dying world. Even with Conversion, there might be doubt, worry, even open distrust. Who knew how far it might drive some ponies in positions of relative authority? It was exactly the sort of thing that called for subtlety - the power to reshape continents would be useless against political issues. It was a curious thought - being able to do anything did not automatically mean the absence of all complexity or difficulty. Even goddesses had to find clever solutions to the more... common problems. "Even so..." Dumpy began, but couldn't manage to finish the thought. "Because, Dumpy Dungcart of Martingale On Hackamore, I really do care about all of my little ponies." Celestia's soft smile was utterly charming, and without any guile. Why Dumpy? Because he was there, because she knew him, because she really, truly did care, just like anypony would. "I... I promise that I will open up, and be unafraid in the future, princess. I really love the ponies here, and I want to be their friend so much. I just hope... I just hope they will want to talk to me, after so many years of... of..." Dumpy hung his head. "I wouldn't worry about that, Dumpy. I know for a fact that every pony in Martingale not only forgives you completely, but is eager to be your friend!" Celestia gave Dumpy a conspiratorial wink. "I don't understand." Dumpy and Celestia had begun to walk once more, again on the path towards his little cottage, and far beyond it, the composting pits. "Well, you are my friend, after all, and I have found that most ponies are very excited to meet friends of mine." Dumpy giggled at this. "Wanna see my dung-cart? It's a really great cart!" "I'd like nothing better?" That made them both laugh. It was early, on a beautiful Celestday's evening. Dumpy had taken his usual two baths, the second with but a single drop of the exquisite bath essence that Soliloquy had gifted him. It smelled of the freshest of meadows and the most delightful of moments immediately after a summer rain, yet it enhanced his natural, warm, stallion scent, all while eliminating every offensive odor. It was a gift from some strange part of Equestria that he couldn't remember the name of, but he was so incredibly grateful for the magical gift. The Happy Pony Show had moved on, to other villages and ultimately out into the Exponential Lands where the majority of all Newfoals lived. That was their lifelong passion, the growing troupe - to seek out new villages, new towns, new civilizations and entertain them. Dumpy was almost tempted to join his old friends, but the fact was that Martingale On Hackamore was the only village in all the universe that he wanted, or needed, to be in. "Dumpy! Welcome!" Old Saltlick greeted him as he entered the Refreshetorium and Sometimes Inn for his social night. "Two pints of cider, please!" Dumpy used teeth and hoof to present four coins to his friend behind the counter. "Oh... and a tray, to carry them with?" Saltlick nodded and set about getting the order. When the tankards were filled and the tray was ready, Dumpy took it in his teeth and carried the two pints carefully over to his new favorite spot, the table by the fireplace. It was the most romantic spot, according to what Stormy had told him. That was where Stormy had first met his Glade Blossom. Dumpy cautiously placed the tray down on the table with his teeth, then pushed the tray more to the center with a hoof. He walked around to the low, green cushion and sat his haunches down. He looked around at the smiling ponies, the familiar Celestday crowd. Stonebridge was waiting for Sackbarrel to finally show up, and gave Dumpy a friendly wave. Two Nails was busy practicing his game for when Nutbrown arrived, he gave Dumpy a warm nod, then returned to calculating just the right 'oomph' to give the little sliding disk under his hoof. Finally, Dumpy's eyes came to rest on the most wonderful thing in the entire room, the one thing that made the night, and the days, and the years all more happy and delightful than the ones before. The exquisite chestnut mare, Tumberel, looked at Dumpy with love in her great, emerald eyes. Dumpy grinned at her, his ears high on his head, his heart beating in joy. "Your cider, missus Dumpcart!" He stated. "Thank you, mister Dumpcart!" She replied. THE END 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 Recombinant 63: A Conversion Bureau Story HUMAN in Equestria: A Conversion Bureau Story The Novellas: The PER: Michelson and Morely The Reasonably Adamant Down With Celestia Newfoal Society! 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 Optimalverse Works: Friendship Is Optimal: Caelum Est Conterrens Injectorverse Works: I.D. - That Indestructible Something The Non-Conversion Bureau Fanfics: The Ice Cream Pony Summer Around The Bend
1. Revenge is a dish best served on a bunThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance1. Revenge is a dish best served on a bun The stallion was a rich, dark, royal purple, the color that kings of Earth once had coveted, the hue of the last shade of twilight just before enshrouding night. His mane was a striking gold that shimmered as he trotted to the podium, a shining mane and tail that any ancient, Earthly emperor would have sacked a nation to possess. His hooves shone like jewels as he slammed them loudly against the wooden stand like twin gavels. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT already! Settle down! Settle down!" The dark purple pegasus stamped a hind hoof down for additional emphasis. The six ponies in the audience fell silent, their stories and anecdotes and catching-up put on hold. One of the ponies quickly scarfed down the last of his meal of oatburgers and hay fries, which he had brought in a little woven basket from the oatburger stand. He reminded himself to take the basket back. "LOOK AT ME!" The shimmery dark purple stallion suddenly dropped to all four hooves from the podium and ambled to the right, showing off his flank side, neck turned so that his eyes remained fixed on the six ponies attending. "LOOK... at what they did to me! Look, really LOOK... at the horror of what I have become!" The golden light from the firefly lanterns rippled down his muscular body, gleaming from his dark indigo coat. He tossed his mane, to get the long, luxurious strands out of his eyes, and the locks poured like liquid gold across his withers. His strong barrel and powerful hocks seemed larger than life on the small stage. His tail was like a waterfall of riches, his hooves shining perfection. "All of us - each one of us - has suffered just the same as me. We're all VICTIMS of CELESTIA!" "YEAH!" It was Wooden Chair, just 'Chair' to his friends - he hated the nickname 'Woody'. He was a carpenter, originally from Foalsburg, but recently moved to Canterlot. "I used to have a decent job on Earth! I used to be somebody - NOT somepony!" A chorus of hoots and hollers offered support and sympathy to the strikingly muscular emerald stallion who had stood up. "I worked hard in a HUMAN shop for HUMAN wages and I had a HUMAN body! I was a human man, and MAN was I HUMAN!" The hoots became louder and were joined with not a few stomps of hooves. "I had my drinking problem under control - I drank, and my problems went away!" The hoots were surpassed by the hollers now, much to the surprise of the hoots. "I had the best girls that money could buy!" The hoof stomps were drowned out by whistles and cat-calls. "But then THEY came, and hosed me down! Me, and everypony... I mean EVERYBODY" Raucous cheers met his correction "Everybody in my sweatshop, and when I woke up, I WAS A PONY!" Comforting noises filled the large community auditorium. Six pony voices offered their condolences. "And what do I have now? I was a cheap press-board factory carpenter on earth, and NOW I WORK WITH WOOD! Real... highest quality... wood. I used to get paid in credits, now what do I get? GOLD! I get paid in small... rather beautiful GOLD COINS! What kind of madness IS THAT? I spent my money on booze and cheap whor... whooorrr... prost... prosss... FLOOZIES and what did I end up with? A EXQUISITELY BEAUTIFUL, LOVING MARE THAT WORSHIPS ME AND TWO ADORABLE FOALS THAT CALL ME DAD?" Tears came to the mahogany-colored earthpony. He wiped his muzzle with a manicured hoof. "What kind of a life is THAT?" The carpenter pony sat down, comforted by those on either side. "HEAR! HEAR!" Payne, the royal purple pegasus at the podium, had refused to take an Equestrian name. It was an act of defiance, and defiance was something he was good at. He figured it had something to do with his namesake, one of the founders of an old nation that had been called 'America', once. His last name was Payne... he had originally been named 'Thomas' Payne. Because of his coloration, he had been convinced to take the first name 'Royal', but he had clung to his Earthly family name as a personal protest. "I have brought you together, all of you, because I wanted you to hear the story of my friend, Chair." Royal took to the podium again, rearing up so that his forehooves could rest on the top of the stand. "Chair's story is a common one. I'm sure every pony here..." Royal cocked his head, then shook it. "Every PERSON here, can relate to it. We are the ones that never signed up for any of this. We never went to a Conversion Bureau, we never asked to be ponies! Maybe it was the PER..." A murmur came up from two of the six ponies in the audience. One of them was Chair, himself. "Maybe it was the WorldGovernment performing Emergency Civilian Mass Conversions!" Royal spoke the last in as growling and scary a voice as he could, referring to the desperate spraying of entire populations when it became clear that time was running out. Three ponies in the audience murmured at this, followed by a complete six-pack of murmuring as all realized their commonality. "What I am about to say to you is not for the faint of flank!" Royal stared at the assembled ponies "It is my intention to form a group, a clan, a tribe, a.... um.... group.." "You said that one already" Offered Hot Topic, helpfully. Topic was a reporter for the society section of the Canterlot Querier, a newspaper dedicated to fringe issues and celebrity gossip. He had become a fairly famous, if not universally respected celebrity in his own right. "How about 'Society?' We could be a society!" It was Golden Showers, the first Newfoal millionaire. He had made his bits selling shower-heads to Equestria. Oddly, the native Equestrians had never invented the shower, but had relied on baths and hot-tubs. Showers had been a Celestia-send to the hard-working ponies of the new world, and the success had showered the former human in real gold. He lived in a mansion in Canterlot, and was known for his amazing soirees - and for what was possibly the finest collection of aged cider in the whole of Equestria. "Oh! I like that! How about the 'Angry Newfoal Society!" The silver unicorn that had offered this was a well known critic of plays and musicals in Canterlot. He had taken the name Argent, and he was the toast of high society, and the bane of aspiring authors. "No... no... we can't use 'angry'. It just isn't true!" Thunder Road was a bright red pegasus with a pale yellow mane. She had risen to a position of prominence as the fastest carriage ride in the Canterlot area. She was also noted for her incredible lightning-storm tours, which had a six-month waiting list even for the Canterlot elite. The manager of the Wonderbolts had contacted her about possibly providing special transport accommodations for their guests, but she hadn't responded yet. "Let's face it, everypony," "EveryBODY!" the other five shouted in unison. "Body. Everybody. Sorry. It's so hard, you know?" All the ponies in the room nodded in grumbling agreement. "EveryBODY," She continued "the fact is that when we were altered - without our permission -" a chorus of upset voices erupted briefly "we were left without the ability to even GET truly angry. I mean, I can get angry, real angry, just not HUMAN angry. I can't work up a good, serious HATE for ANYTHING anymore!" This really got the rest nodding and even produced two hoots. "Try as I might, the best I can do is a light acrimony, and that JUST WON'T DO!" Loud nickers and whinnies showed that she was not alone in her frustration. "Alright, Alright..." Royal began putting things together in his head "If not 'angry' - then what are we? Miffed? Indignant? Wrathful?" "Oh, not wrathful. That's worse than angry!" Thunder Road scolded. "ADAMANT!" Bucket practically shouted the word, proud of himself. Unlike the others, Bucket was not wealthy or successful at all. He pulled dung carts on the lowest tier of Canterlot, transporting them to the mulch center downwind. "Oh, 'Adamant' is... adequate." Argent pondered briefly, hoof to muzzle. "I think it needs to be modified a bit, in deference to the point brought up by our dear Thunder, here." Thunder smiled at that. Argent nodded back. "I am thinking... we should add the term 'reasonable'... no... 'reasonably'. Yes! Reasonably. Reasonably Adamant!" "It's PERFECT!" Thunder Road was very pleased and did a little pony prance with her hooves, which three of the stallions found delightful. Argent had... different tastes. Royal looked at his hooves. His accursed, polished, perfect hooves. "Very well, then... we're the Reasonably Adamant.... what? What do we want here, really? How to put it...." "Justice! We want justice!" Golden Showers was excited, getting into the swing of things. He raised a hoof over his head "We want... the perpetrators to be... um... sorry!" Golden looked befuddled, noting his own human drive for bloody, brutal vengeance missing, replaced by a watered-down milk-toasty impulse to simply correct sorrows and fix problems. It was terrible and awful to be forced to be thoughtful when, on Earth, he had been used to destroying lessers and laughing at their plight. "I'd like them taken down a peg." Bucket mournfully sighed. "THAT'S IT!" Royal was grinning with an almost naughty feeling of rebellion within him. "And WHO is ultimately responsible?" Five pairs of incredibly beautiful eyes stared at him, devoid of answers. "CELESTIA! She's responsible for everything! She's a bloody great GODDESS, after all!" The room nodded as one and waited, expectantly, both eager and afraid of the obvious. Royal stood as tall as he could on his back legs, a terribly unnatural feeling now."DOWN WITH CELESTIA!!!" Five ponies gasped, despite knowing what was coming. Thunder Road giggled nervously. So did Argent. "How about this, then... I call to order the first meeting of the... um..." Royal scrambled to put all the pieces together in his head. His tall, elegant ears flicked about while he concentrated. "The.... The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society!" At that, the rest of the ponies in the room sidestepped hooting and went directly to cheers, with the occasional whoop for good measure. The name was a rousing success, and with it their identity and purpose as an organization had been established. "Ok..." Bucket looked up morosely. Bucket always looked up morosely. "What do we actually do?" Five pairs of sparkling, inhumanly lovely eyes stared down at the dung-cart pony with mild, but not unkindly disdain. It was such an utterly inappropriate question. It quite ruined the mood. "Things!" Royal stated with an authority born from being the former CEO of the Worldgovernment Propaganda and Infotainment Ministry. "Clever... crafty... things." The word was dripping with intrigue and skullduggery "Things that... Celestia will never suspect. Things that will bring her down a notch, things that will make her aware of our suffering!" Bucket thought for a moment. "What do we get outta that, once she understands? Earth is gone. Do we get bits? Is this like a lawsuit?" Thoughts of not having to pull a dung cart began to lift Bucket's spirit. "Oh! No no no no... nothing so crass as... bits." Golden Showers made a mental note to have his third butler attend him at the next session, to fluff the silken pillow he was forced to sit on in this... meeting... place. "We seek... what do we seek, anyway?" Golden turned his exquisitely coiffed head first one way and then another, looking for some clue. "Public recognition of the suffering of Newfoals!" Thunder Road sat back and folded her forelegs. "An apology! A FORMAL apology - for the loss of our planet and for rescuing us against our will!" Argent gave his best 'serious' look, the one with the eyebrows low and the sneer on the muzzle. He had practiced it for weeks. It was perfect. It had floored them at the opening of 'The Ponies Of Penzance'. "Actually, that was kind of the world government that did the converting that saved us. And the PER. Celestia herself always made it clear that conversion was a free choice." Chair was surprised at the dirty looks. It was nevertheless true. Hot Topic glared through narrowed, furtive eyes all around the room. "Celestia had more to do with everything than anypony knows." "EVERYBODY!" Five ponies shouted as one. "FINE!" Topic glared with wide eyes now, a different glare, but it was still pretty glarey. "The point is... she DID!" "Did what?" Bucket was confused now. "Have more... to do... had more.... SHE WAS INVOLVED SOMEHOW!" Topic turned away, breathing moderately heavily. "I want... my ability to... think mean thoughts back!" Golden Showers had been one of the ruling elite on Earth, now he was only just unimaginably wealthy by Equestrian standards. But what truly hurt was that his vast success had only benefited all of those under him, and every day was filled with congenial ponies getting orders done on time and within budget. On Earth he had enjoyed crushing competition and squashing upstarts... but here no such thing existed. He had become the Royal Shower Maker to the Crown. There was no higher achievement possible. It was a disaster, and he couldn't even plot revenge for it. "I want... PRESS-BOARD!" Chair wasn't the least annoyed at making the highest quality furniture for Equestria's elite. But it was the principle of the thing. "I demand... uh... SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER THEATRE!" Argent was a little stumped. He knew he was dissatisfied, despite his great success as a critic, but... he wasn't sure what it was that he was upset about. "Argent..." Royal hesitated, but pressed on "...That's not... really... I mean, plays and shows have always varied in quality and..." Argent hung his head, crimson mane falling softly across his delicate and handsome silvern features "Very well. Then let me say that... I want whatever it is that I want.... and I want it now." "That will do." Royal sighed. "I have something to want." Thunder Road tossed her yellow curls. "I want Earth back!" "What?" The group was incredulous. "Well, if Celestia really is some kind of deity, she can put our planet back. Or recreate it. Or... I don't know. Make things the way they were!" Thunder humphed. It wasn't unreasonable was it? "I think that's a little unreasonable, Thunder." Royal was starting to get the beginnings of a headache. "If she could have stopped Equestria from crashing into Mundis, don't you think she would have? It would have saved her having to take in nineteen billion refugees." "They say only eight billion actually made it." Bucket looked down. Bucket always looked down. He pulled a dung cart. Of course he looked down. Five pairs of eyes of incomparable loveliness glared slightly harshly at the tan earthpony. Royal considered for a moment. "Thunder... in wanting the Earth back, do you really mean that you want your human body back? Is that it?" It had to be it. Royal felt like quite the amateur psychologist with this insight. "No, sweet Luna, no. That isn't it at all. I can fly now. I can fly really, really well. FLIGHT. Under my own power. On Earth I was just this really fat girl with pimples and bad knees. I could barely waddle down the sweets aisle. Now I can eat all the pie and cake I want, look perfectly trim, and fly faster than the wind. I can MAKE the wind. No. No way am I giving up this baby." Thunder Road wiggled her flanks and gave her right wing a kiss. "Oh." Royal tried not to stare at those shapely haunches that... no. He was a human, or at least he had been, and he should like human girls, even if there weren't any anymore. "Then what do you want, then, if getting the Earth back isn't likely?" "I don't... know. Something..." The bright red pegasus mare stared off, unsure but somehow empty. Royal waited and when nothing more followed, he gave a light cough. "Alright then, I'm with Argent." Thunder Road put on her 'tough' look "I also want whatever it is that I want." She gave Bucket a good glare. "And I want it now, too." Bucket just mumbled, quietly. "Why not just ask for some bits? Bits are good." Nopony heard him.
4. We gonna rock down to Thaumatic AvenueThe Reasonably Adamant DOWN WITH CELESTIA Newfoal Society! By Chatoyance4. We gonna rock down to Thaumatic Avenue Argent ran his long, sinuous, prehensile tongue up Hot Topic's midnight black belly, all the way up over his chest, and then straight up his neck until he reached the unicorn's strong jaw. Giggling, Topic tried, desperately, to remain still as Argent continued all the way along the underside of his jaw right to his lips. Just under his jaw was ticklish for Hot Topic, and Argent knew that, but it was all part of the lesson. Argent was teaching his new lover how to turn a tickle into intense pleasure. The secret was to let go all defense, all reservation, and to open oneself completely to the sensation, devoid of any hint of feeling threat. The secret was trust. Topic shivered, almost frightened by how strong the sensation was. This time it had worked, and the ticklish feeling had transformed into something almost like the sort of feeling that Argent was so good at producing for him much lower on his body. Argent pressed his silvery muzzle to Topic's dark face in a soft, deep kiss. "Now... how was that?" Hot Topic, as a reporter, had researched many things and uncovered many secrets and discovered many wonders both in his life as a human on earth, and in his last four years as an Equestrian. But he had never imagined that it would be possible to change something as fundamental as the squirmy feeling under his jaw into exquisite, mind shattering pleasure. "It was... a revelation. On many levels." "Oh?" Argent lay back on the floor, resting his head in the crook of Topic's foreleg. "Quirying minds want to know." Topic felt a hoof gently trace circles on the soft hair of his belly, just above his sheath. It was very distracting. Hot Topic was a reporter for the Canterlot Querier, so he could not help but chuckle at the choice of words. "Well, for one, that really... worked. Just like you said. Wow. Just... Wow." Topic kissed the pale, spiral horn beside his head. "I... could tell. Go on, I want to hear the entire... report. Before it hits the newsstands. I'm doing fact-checking, you see." Argent grinned, and used his hoof to trace a line across Topic's barrel. The edge of his hoof wall left a visible trail in the ebony coat. "There's no way I could have ever... been able... to experience that back, well, back before." Topic raised a shining midnight hoof above him and stared at it. For him, seeing his hoof, in place of a hand, grounded him in the reality of what he was, now and forever. It made it not a dream. "I was too uptight back when. Maybe some...body... could have let go like that, trusted... like that... but not me. Not then. But now..." "Now?" Argent lay his foreleg over his special somepony, and closed his eyes, breathing in the rich, warm scent of stallion. "Now, with this pony brain of mine... it can happen at all. And it's amazing. With you... I have no fear. None. I mean nothing at all... apparently!" Both laughed at this. Their weekend had been filled with revelations about each other's bodies, all of them exceedingly exciting, and all of them exceedingly happy. "It's kind of silly, you know." "What is?" Argent shifted to look at his lover, careful as always to avoid giving him an eyeful of horn. Being a unicorn in love with another unicorn required a certain... delicacy. "When I signed up as a RADWICKINS, I was unhappy. I was upset, and I felt very... wronged, really. When the government started doing the mass conversions... it felt like the stories of old fascist America during the Austerity War, or maybe Germany before it. Being rounded up, put in camps, sprayed down, all of that. Suddenly being dumped in Equestria, hauled in by the cartload, just as the last of the Earth was gobbled up. Pony, that was some time." Topic lowered his hoof and gently stroked Argent's foreleg. "Why did you wait so long? I was doused by the PER a full year before zero point, but they didn't start the round-ups until the last months. Trying to get the Big Scoop on the end of the world? You must have been in South Africa. You must have seen the whole thing closing in." Argent studied the shape of the dark stallion's head, a shadow against the sunset through the window. "Sterkstroom, just outside of Queenstown. It was the last place to run, the last part of the planet left. Zero Point was just off the coast, and I couldn't afford to be on one of the ships, not even a freighter. It was mighty crowded - not even the worst favela was like it. Standing room only, all waiting for the end, humans from every continent, every culture, all standing on the last patch of Earth." Topic smiled suddenly. "It was the bravest, stupidest, most amazing thing I've ever seen, or probably ever will see. It was like all the humans were just defying the Barrier to burn them. We were all quiet, somber. And then the scoops arrived." "I have no words. Whoa." Argent tried to imagine it. "Still, though... why were you there? You were a reporter even as a human, you must have known - probably better than anypony. Why... why just..." "Stand there, waiting to die? Why didn't I just go to the emergency Bureaus for immediate ponification?" "Yeah... seriously. Wait - were you HLF? Human Liberation Front or something?" Argent felt a slight chill at the notion. Topic chuckled, a deep, warm sound. "No, I wasn't one of those crazy muffins. It wasn't that. Not exactly." "So... tell me! Unless it's... not something you..." "No. No, it's alright. I'll tell you. Fact was, I was scared. Now I wouldn't have admitted that to you back then, if we'd been together - swirl, I couldn't admit it to myself. But I was seriously frightened. I was more terrified of becoming a pony, than of dying. I was afraid I wouldn't be me, I was afraid it would be a sort of living death. I was afraid I..." Topic closed his eyes. It was hard to say. "I was afraid I wouldn't be... a man anymore. Not hu-man, a man. Male. I couldn't equate being a pony with still being male." Argent seemed puzzled "Wait, what? Stallion? Hung like one? Big, strong, horsepower in those engines, thundering herd, all of that? Horses are like... for humans horses have been symbolic penises for pretty much ever. Stallions, anyway. How? You have completely lost me here. Besides..." Argent placed his hoof over Topic's sizable sheath "...come on!" "Yeah, yeah... I know all of that now. Twenty-twenty hindsight." Hot Topic looked down and grinned. "Fear doesn't always think straight, you know? All that registered for me were all the mares and those princesses on the screens everywhere. In my head it was a girly land of girly things. It was everything I wasn't. That's all I saw." "So that was what was silly, that you thought that way?" Topic gently shook his head. "No, though my fear was silly, I guess. Nearly got me killed. What's silly is being a RADWICKINS member now. I've finally figured out what my problem really was, and it had nothing to do with Celestia, or being converted or anything. The fact of it is that I was lonely. I wanted... you. I wanted what we are now. I did my job, I had success as a stallion in Canterlot, but... I was just plain lonely. That's all, that's everything. I was lonely. I went to the meetings thinking I was mad at being a pony, but I'm not. I just didn't know how to... how to be a pony WITH another pony. And then, I met you. At the meetings." "I think we figured it out." Argent laughed. Hot Topic joined in "Yeah, yeah, I think we did." Bucket galloped backstage, careful not to trip on the jacks and stage braces supporting the flats. He'd done that a couple of times during rehearsals and had gotten glared at. The Royal Canterlot Hall, often called the Starswirl Hall or just The Starswirl, after some famous unicorn scholar that had given lectures there hundreds of years ago, was a large and imposing space. It seated hundreds and the whole of it felt heavy with history. The unicorns, like Argent and Chair claimed that they could sense the layered echos of past performances and lectures emanating from the living rock that made up most of the carved hall. Starswirl Hall had been cut directly into the mountain, the dark gray stone interlaced with seams of jewel and crystal. It was not in the least inexpensive to rent. Over the past eight months, the The Reasonably Adamant Down with Celestia Newfoal Society had grown and grown, the original six founders forming a company of sorts as the whole thing had taken on a life of its own. Royal had naturally assumed the role of star and host, his celebrity had grown to great proportions. Golden Showers had turned the management of his shower installation business over to a colt that had served as his office assistant, he had become the producer and manager of the RADWICKINS ENTERTAINMENT GROUP, keeping an eye on the franchising as the society had expanded. A large staff now took care of countless details under Golden's command. Bucket had been placed into the position of stage manager early on, mostly because nopony else would take it at the time. It was better than pulling dung carts - barely, he had thought at the beginning - but Bucket found he had a genuine talent for keeping things under control. His saddlebags were filled with his prompt book, blocking sheets, and schedule, among other things, and the only real problem he had was that he wasn't that physically coordinated a pony. His efforts were not celebrated, because he did them so well nopony paid much attention, but he was aware nothing would get done without his efforts. Bucket's life had changed dramatically. Where before he had reeked of dung and sweat, now he stank of perfumed soaps and even more sweat as he was forced almost every day to charge about making sure that the show could go on. His life was rehearsals, last minute disasters being averted narrowly, and meetings - endless, endless meetings. In many ways he was working far harder as a stage manager than he ever had pulling a dung cart, and even though the pay was exponentially larger, he was often too exhausted to spend the impressive sum he pulled in every week. Bucket ate at the best restaurants in Canterlot now - there was no time to cook his own food - and he lived in a splendid apartment in a beautiful tower overlooking the flat river valley below, though he had no time to actually enjoy the view. The doorpony of his tower, taking pity on him as he dragged his weary body through the doors after a particularly difficult day, asked him why he didn't find something less stressful to do. He could only sigh and repeat the most ancient of answers "What? And give up show biz?" Bucket had wanted a more glamorous life than pulling a dung cart. Now that he had it, now that he was part of something that was the hit of Equestria, he found himself more than once thinking of those calm, slow, dung-cart days. He hadn't realized just how much free time he had enjoyed back then, and he felt sad that he had not taken more advantage of it all. He loved his new position, he appreciated his new pay and the importance of his responsibilities - and sometimes, he even commanded respect now - but... there were no more picnics out in green fields, eating the natural feast that grew everywhere, for free. "O-kay... THUNDER ROAD! Where is that consarned feathery... Thunder!" Bucket whipped out one of his many logs and books "Is everything ready with the chariot?" Thunder Road had been forced to give up half of her regular schedule to be available for shows. It paid better, but sometimes she missed doing the lightning tours. "We're still having problems with the door. It sticks!" "WHERE'S THE CARPENTER?" Oddly, it wasn't Chair - Chair and Honeybutter were now strictly performers, their singing act splitting time between the RADWICKINS and various concerts and traditional musical theatre. Bucket paced nervously around, his hooves stomping in frustration. "CARPENTER!" it was going to be rough night, it seemed. Starswirl Hall was packed, scrunching room only, with ponies on pillows and ponies on ponies and ponies in the balconies and half-price pegasai tickets hovering next to the chandeliers. The pegasai set their drinks and popcorn in the Chandelier cages, where it mostly didn't fall on the full-price audience below. The hovering ponies served the show indirectly - their constantly beating wings circulated the air very nicely. For that reason, in addition to half-price tickets, they also got their first popcorn free and three free servings of cider to keep them hydrated. Now there was no question that the audience was almost entirely native born ponies. There simply weren't enough Newfoals in the Canterlot area to even begin to account for the crowd. If every Newfoal in the region had come, they still would not have filled but a quarter of the seats. Looking out at the filled hall, his nose poking out between folds of curtain, Royal chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Still, it was the most wonderful thing ever for him. He had found his calling - the star-shaped cutie mark that had appeared during their debut in the ancient hall seemed to indicate that. All the wealthiest and most elite of Canterlot were here - attending the RADWICKINS had become quite the thing. 'Down With Celestia!', why it was scandalous, exciting, daring, and simply all the rage. These Newfoals were quite the entertainers, and the strange Earthling style of the whole thing was positively mesmerizing. It was new, trendy, and oh-so-hip. Royal looked up at the leftmost Royal Balconies. There she was. Once again. A dark unicorn mare in an embroidered cloak. She, whoever she was, had followed them from early on, always in the background, mysterious. She had been quickly joined by two others, one possibly her maid, and another pink and white unicorn, also in an elaborate cloak. The dark mare had taken to shouting 'HUZZAH!' at sometimes inappropriate moments, only to be counseled by her compatriots. The cider concession was run ragged by them whenever they attended. On the right side of the hall, in the other Royal Balconies sometimes sat a quiet and pale unicorn mare, tall and dignified. She too wore a splendid cloak, and never ordered anything but tea. Nopony saw her come or go, though the price of her ticket was always paid. Canterlot was a city of mysteries, intrigues and very strange ponies, thought Royal. He pulled his head back and prepared for his entrance. "MARES AND STALLIONS, FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!" Bitsworth, with his rich and dulcet tones had been elevated from butler to announcer, though he still butled... it was in his blood. "THE TIME HAS COME TO RECOGNIZE THE BURDEN OF THE UNDERCLASS, THE UNAPPRECIATED, THOSE DESPERATE EXILES FROM A LOST WORLD, THE NEWFOALS!!!" Massive cheers erupted as the ancient halls, once home to staid, traditional Equestrian productions reverberated with the shouts and thunder of an audience unlike that of any other age. The human-styled performance had encouraged human-styled responses, and the ponies screamed with excitement and stomped in expectation. The great velvet curtains parted as the lights dimmed. In the orchestra pit, the fourteen musicians began with a perky drum gambit, rising into the theme song, a terrestrial swing version of the motto. More than half of the audience sang along, at the top of their lungs "To remind us all of the Earth's devastation, To unite all Newfoals within the Equestrian nation..." Saxophones and horns met the violins as the motto reached its conclusion. "...The RADWICKINS gallop toward what's right!" Bitsworth smiled - it was his motto, after all - and spoke into the Bevelmeiter-powered sound system "THE REASONABLY ADAMANT DOWN WITH CELESTIA NEWFOAL SOCIETY, STARRING ROYAL PAINE WITH HIS GUESTS DJ PON-3, FASHION EXPERT HOITY TOITY, SEXY WONDERBOLT SPITFIRE, AND FEATURING A PERFORMANCE BY EVERYPONY'S FAVORITE MUSICAL GROUP LYRA AND THE FINGERS!!!" As the music swelled, broke, and reduced to a thrumming drumbeat, a shining red carriage pulled by Thunder Road swooped in and spun slowly down to land on the vast stage. Waving a hoof from inside was Royal, who upon landing tried to open the door. It stuck. He banged on it while the audience roared. Backstage, Bucket threw a fit, but the sound of laughter and applause pulled him out of it - Royal had chosen to slide out of the carriage window ass-end first, landing in a completely undignified lump. It was hilarious! The audience loved it. Bucket threw up his forehooves and shrugged with his ears. Showbiz. Behind his sleek desk - the old podium had burst into fragments months ago during a particularly hard pounding - Royal straightened his tie, a move that was now an audience favorite. The fashion had caught on, and it was considered the height of funny to tug at one's tie in awkward moments now. He looked uncomfortable, and adjusted his tie a second time. The audience howled. He began yanking at it with both hooves, finally ending up disheveled but content. The audience roared. Assistants ran to comb his mane and tidy him as he stood up and walked to the front of the stage to begin his monolog. "Welcome, welcome everyONE!" The prizes for catching him slipping had ended long ago, but the thrill had never stopped. The crowd still tried to see if they could get the hidden 'Everypony' he would carefully slip in. Royal fretted constantly about the proper moment for a good 'everypony' and only his writing team could calm him down. "Have you seen the news lately? Seriously, I mean, NOTHING - on Earth, it would have been 'radioactive contamination kills millions' but here? ICE CREAM TASTES GOOD! PONY SCIENTISTS DISCOVER THE SECRET BEHIND IT ALL - SUGAR AND CREAM!" The native ponies, unable to comprehend entirely, found this stuff hilarious. "And how about that 'Fancy Pants' huh?" Up in the left Royal Balcony, there was a gasp followed by a HUZZAH! "I see you have heard of the stallion then?" Roaring laughter filled the hall "So, 'Fancy Pants' huh? WHERE DOES THAT COME FROM? I DON'T THINK THAT COLT'S EVER WORN PANTS IN HIS LIFE! Does he even know what pants ARE? SERIOUSLY!" A spotlight panned down to show the eponymous celebrity in the audience, laughing. He stood up briefly, and gave a wave. "And look! NO PANTS!" The audience howled again, followed by the stomping of hooves in pony applause. Fancy, ever the good sport, sat down, and the spotlight returned to the stage. Royal fiddled briefly with his collar "Alright, alright, settle down you former apes!" This always got a huge laugh. "What? Should I toss you a banana? Hmmmmm? Are you a.... baboon... who loves... bananas?" Almost nopony knew what a baboon was, primates other than Man had not survived the expansion of Equestria, but the word sounded funny. "Maybe you'd like a banana... ON THE MOOOOOONNNN!!!!" The crowd loved this bit, it had become a regular gag. "And speaking of THE ALMIGHTY CELESTIA..." Oohs and shudders filled the crowd as the devilish delight of mocking the princess herself both frightened and thrilled them "...what other things has she put on the moon... hmmm... let's see... HER SISTER PERHAPS?" Nervous screams of laughter burst forth. Mixed with them was a surprisingly slurred HUZZAH!!! from the upper left Royal Balcony, along with a single hoof hammering like a judge. "What a GREAT princess there, am I right? She can raise the very SUN, construct all of Equestria out of the chaos of Discord, but she forgets where she put her sister for ONE THOUSAND YEARS!" Amidst the laughs was the sound of some pony choking on cider from somewhere up in the Royal Balconies. "DOWD WIF SSSELEFSFIA! HUZZAHHH!" screamed a well-cidered mare from above. The crowd howled at this naked sacrilege - it was what they had come to see. "WHOA!!!! Look out! WE'RE IN TROUBLE NOWWW!" Royal pretended he was filled with terror, and fiddled with his collar and tie like a madpony. "But seriously folks, it's all in good fun, right? It's not like our sweet and beloved princess of the sun INVADED OUR MUFFIN PLANET!" a gasp of shock followed by nervous cackles washed around the hall like a wave. Royal waited a few beats before continuing. "Well every...ONE, we have a great show for you tonight. Canterlot DJ TO THE STARS PON-3!" Massive applause followed. "We'll hear about the latest fashions from fashion expert HOITY TOITY!" Polite applause rippled around the hall. "A pegasus I'm sure everypony would like to get private flying lessons from, SPITFIRE!!!" Thunderous stomping sounded forth. "AND SPECIAL MUSICAL GUEST... wait for it... I said wait for it... LYRA AND THE FINGERS!!!" Insane screams of ecstatic joy were drowned out by a stamping of hooves that threatened to bring Canterlot Castle and the entire mountain down on their collective polls. Lyra's new record, "New World New Foals" was at the top of the charts. All of her bandmates were Newfoals from earth, and getting her had been a fantastic decision on the part of Golden. It couldn't be more perfect. This was going to be a great show. "You know, we've permanently changed Equestrian culture! Think about it!" Royal was sitting next to Chair as the makeup crew cleaned them up to go home. Because of the nature of the product needed for a species with a coat, it was a necessary task. "All the boffins were terrified that nothing of Earth would survive. All the electronics all the technology... but none of that matters. We have magic in Equestria - computers and motorcycles are worse than useless in a universe like this. Besides, if the best humanity had to show for itself was a pile of junk, what was the point even if Equestria hadn't shown up?" Some of the blush on his cheek wouldn't come out of the hairs. The artists went to get the special cream. "Seriously, Chair, look at what DID survive! I say it's the best of humanity. Our music survived! Our band is playing jazz, swing, and thanks to Lyra, rock and roll! Those things survived because they were in US! We couldn't bring stuff into Equestria, but... what was good about humanity wasn't stuff!" "Movies made it, at least old ones from the museums, on celluloid. And records, vinyl got through the Barrier." The artist working on Chair asked him to tilt his head back so she could get under his chin. He needed lightening there, or his jaw looked too large on stage. "That's not stuff! Well, it IS stuff, in that film is stuff and vinyl is stuff, but... the stuff isn't the important part." Royal's makeup artist was back, busily applying cheek cream. "The important part of either of those is the music and the film itself, the movies themselves. The media doesn't matter, the substrate doesn't matter, what matters is the information, the pattern, the art!" "The records don't sound quite the same, you know. And the movies look strange because of the way light works in Equestria. It's kind of the same, but it's not exactly the same." Chair had to shift on his pillow, his tail was trapped. "So? So what? So 'Spike Jones and the City Slickers' or 'Huey Lewis and the News' sound more like ponies than humans somehow, or the colors in 'Ghostbusters' aren't exactly the way your human eyes saw them. Seriously, who gives a muffin? The essence is still there. The meaning is still there, even if some things are different. And the same is true of our shows here... we may be ponies, but we are keeping the spirit of the best of Man alive through music, and comedy and... and.. song." With the last, Royal nodded at his friend Chair. Chair could not have imagined, nine months ago, that he would end up not making furniture, but performing with his wife doing ballads and duets from old Earth. "You know..." Chair stood up, his coat finally free of theater makeup "...it's like magic. Our success, I mean. I guess Equestria really is a land of magic - we could never have had this on Earth. Not a hope. But here... it's almost like magic!" "It is magic, my little ponies." Chair, Royal, and the makeup crew instinctively fell to the floor in clumsy bows. It was Celestia, ruler of all Equestria, goddess of the sun, princess of their universe, and she was backstage.
