Prologue - Illegal Immigration

Another morning in Ponyville. The birds were singing, the wind rustled through the leaves of Golden Oaks library and a single ray of brilliant sunshine cut through the morning mist into the master suite of Equestria’s only human. Ensconced as he was in a tangle of fur, hair and limbs, Lero might have been immune to the ray’s rousing effect, had it not been for the immediate and peppy reaction of the lavender mare resting on his left arm.

“Good morning Ponyville!” Twilight spoke aloud to no one in particular as she threw back the comforter and kicked her hooves over the edge of the warm and inviting bed. The fact that her actions were met with grumbles and groans from the remaining sleeping members of her herd (most of whom took a different approach to mornings) was lost on her as she stretched her arms and back.

As she hopped out of bed Twilight turned to look at the grumpy group she’d left behind, and something graced her lips which she had not felt for some time: a smile. Lero Michaeledes, Equestria’s sole human resident, noticed her introspective grin and reached out with his untrapped left hand. He yawned lazily as he stroked her mane and asked “what are you thinking Ms. Sparkle?”

Twilight’s eyes met his and Lero could see the warmth in her expression grow as she replied “Oh Lero... it's just so nice to see everyone together, it makes me feel like even if I can’t finish my research we’ll still have something to fall back on.”

As Twilight spoke, she saw Lero’s face fall slightly and hurriedly added “n-not that it doesn’t mean I’ll be doing my all to complete my work... that is... its not li-” she was cut off by a firm grasp from Lero, accompanied by a bemused expression. “Twi- we shouldn’t chat about this here” Lero said as he motioned over his shoulder toward the still sleeping mares. “Why don’t you head downstairs and put on a kettle of tea and I’ll be down in a moment.” Twilight nodded as she hopped onto the cold oak floor, her mood slightly dimmed by the exchange.

Lero’s eyes followed her as she left the room, her hoofs clopping softly down the hall (he still didn't know how these ponies managed to do that). Sighing softly, he lingered over the two other mares in his bed (Lyra had risen with the sun - her mornings always filled with meditation and practice) both were snuggled against his sides. He glanced between the blue and white ponies as he pensively considered how much his life had improved with these two playing such a major part of it.

A part of him understood Twilight’s satisfaction with the current state; this idyllic morning scene might be the closest approach to heaven on this side of life and death. The frown returned, however, as he contemplated the snoring pegasus (some things even the swap could not change). To let poor Rainbow lose that fire that made up so much of who she was… all so that he could indulge in this paradise? Could he let all of his friends and their families continue to live under this delusion with the feeble hope that it might be for the best? It felt like betrayal, like he was ultimately giving in to the force that he had anthropomorphized (or was it hippopomorphized?): the spell known as ‘the swap’.

After a delicate extraction from the bed to avoid waking his lovely ladies and an awkward, hurried breakfast with Twilight, where she seemed to be too guilty to meet his eye, Lero proceeded to broach the difficult subject that had reared its head in the bedroom.

“Twilight, about earlier-” Lero began before being interrupted.

“ I’m sorry Lero, I didn’t think about how that would have sounded. But you need to know that more than anything I wish that I had never ruined everything by casting that infernal sp-” Lero brought a finger to Twilight's muzzle playfully.

“Hush!” He looked deeply into the troubled unicorn’s eyes, trying to probe the thoughts that she was hiding from him. “I thought we’d agreed that you were going to quit all this self-deprecation Twi. It doesn't do any good for anyone, least of all you.”

He saw Twilight taking a breath to begin a vigorous defense of her outlook so he pressed on. “I know it's not easy. I also can’t help but look at Rarity and feel like this swap has been a blessing in disguise… there really isn’t an easy solution here, but I know one thing…” He reached out and grasped Twilight’s hoof.

“Whatever happens, you… I… we won’t let this swap beat us.”

=================================

The pep talk had somewhat of a positive effect. Enough, at least, to get Twilight to enter Dash’s cloud house: the de facto test bed for Swap Cures, with her chin held high.

Although Lero had taken to letting Twilight have her own space in the warded off domicile, he felt that Twilight needed him by her side today. Though initially reticent to have her precious Lero near any dangerous spellcrafting, Twilight’s token resistance faded after only mild insistence from Lero; revealing her desire for companionship under her strong academic facade.

“So Miss Sparkle, what’s on the test docket today? More data gathering? A little confidence interval confirmation?” Lero chuckled, suppressing an internal shudder as he thought back to when statistics had been an unavoidable part of his university syllabus.

“Hardly! I save data compilation and assessment day as a treat for when I’m feeling glum.” Lero’s arched eyebrow and bemused expression was ignored by Twilight while she continued to assemble her notes, quills, and her safety goggles. “No… today is all about an entirely new line of inquiry! I call it: the SHIFT!”

Twilight, paused for an awkward moment, looking at Lero with a self-assured grin.

If Twilight had chosen one of Rainbow’s cricket pets as a test subject, Lero was certain that it would choose this moment to begin singing in the awkward silence that hung in the air.

Lero coughed and looked at Twilight with a frown… “Seriously Twilight? That is a complete naming convention copy of the swap.”

Twilight’s expression grew sheepish. “OK, I confess I didn’t spend much time on the name. But that’s not important!” She turned to her notes, flipping to a section of pictograms that she had prepared in case an emergency lecture just like this was required.

“It came to me when we considered the multiple world possibility. I know we discounted that theory, but it got me thinking… what if the problem wasn’t that the cutie marks moved into different hosts, but if the world itself moved while the cutie marks stayed still?”

“Huh?” Lero fought the urge to scratch his head lest he completely become a cartoon caricature. “Think about it!” Twilight went on, “it would explain why we are having such difficulty controlling the swaps in these experiments!” As she continued to flip the notepad and its associated illustrations (all prepared for Lero’s benefit) she opened the heavily secured magical safe containing the elements of harmony, pulling out her tiara: the element of magic.

“If I tried to shift the necklaces holding the elements, instead of the elements themselves... It could have the same effect of reversing the swap without all the added complexity of dealing with such magically volatile energies!”

Lero considered for a long moment, unsure whether to get excited or act as a damper to Twilight’s enthusiasm. He’d seen her in this state before, and it seemed like she was only a few steps removed from her bouncing, *YESYESYES* spouting state.

“Huh. Well... I guess it's possible.”

Twilight deflated a bit. “Of course it's possible! It…. it just isn’t very probable.” She brought a hoof to her chest and took a deep breath: her time tested technique to reduce her stress and bring her sanity level into check. “In any case, that’s why we’re here!”

She turned to the caged animals, flipping her notebook open to the incantation she had designed, and took a deep breath:

From one mark to another, and another to one
That chaos be resolved, and order be done
Let the terrestrial planes shift
And resolution be swift
To prevent ill effect
And remain circumspect
A beam will be cast
Not some general blast
Shifting the world beneath
And granting the swapped relief!

With the final word, a low frequency rumble began to permeate the atmosphere. At first Lero thought it was just a hum, like something that he would have experienced from being near an electric transformer back on earth, but the intensity continued to build and build.

Hum became buzz, buzz became rumble and soon he was on his knees clutching his head and hoping that cloud building engineering was stronger than it looked.

“TWILIGHT! Abort the spell!!”

The Lavender mare said nothing, her eyes shining brightly at the incredible amount of magical power flowing through her.

Normally Lero would stay away from all things magic related, but fear and love overrode the logical parts of his mind and he reached out with his hands to grab her horn. The hair on his arms was standing straight up as if he’d shuffled his feet along a rug. Just before he made contact, the rumbling ceased and a bolt of light shot from the chest containing the elements of harmony. The light beam arced across the room with terrifying velocity and focused on a single point on the wall, causing it to glow white hot. Just as suddenly, the beam stopped, and all was silent.

“Tell me that we won’t be trying that again Twilight.” Lero said in a monotone as he caught his breath. Twilight looked back at him in open-mouthed shock, “don’t worry, I think that we can safely limit the sample size of this experiment to one.”

Lero chuckled. “Good! I’d say we got off light with a little rumbling and a light show…” Lero trailed off as he noticed Twilight had trotted over to the wall that had been struck with the intense beam of light.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that” Twilight nervously said as she took a step back, revealing that the beam had burnt a hole through the wall....

=================================

A sudden darkness. Then, just as unexpectedly, a flash.

Particles streamed past the man’s face like a jet speeding through a hailstorm and their impacts were no less painful than if he was strapped to the nose of that jet. The assault on his senses was overwhelming, blasting his consciousness and reducing him to simple perception of sensation… pain!

Just as it seemed he would succumb to the roiling waves of agony the bizarre event ended. There was still no light, but now there was warmth.

Sound.

A familiar smell.

He found he was clenching his eyes closed, as though expecting a blow to the face. Releasing ra breath he did not know he was holding he opened his eyes.

Blinking quickly to clear his vision, he found himself in some sort of enclosure. His head felt stuffy, slow… like he should remember more about himself and his surroundings. He fumbled for the latch on his left, the motion of his arms and fingers feeling familiar to him as he tumbled out of the seat and onto the ground outside. The wet atmosphere of grass and trees filled his lungs with a refreshing coolness.

He stumbled away from the metal contraption he’d exited, ducking his head to avoid the metal ceiling that extended outward from the open door. Something in him was saying to get away from it, as though by instinct he knew that the object was dangerous.

Ahead was a trail leading into a deep forest. Though others might hesitate to enter such a dense wood haphazardly, he felt differently. He knew trails like these and these types of forests. There was a comfort there, a familiarity he could feel in his bones. His stumble became a walk, and walk became a jog. His mind was still rebooting, but the original primordial message was still there: danger - flee!

After 5 minutes or so of sprinting, tripping and scrambling along the narrow path he finally began to slow. His heart rate decreased. The reptilian part of his brainstem losing control to the more rational elements of his frontal lobe. As he began to breathe at a somewhat normal rate, his faculties began to come back to him. Trying to access the artefacts of his memory was a murky and uncoordinated effort, like grasping at fireflies. There was one thing he was sure of: he needed help.

As he mulled this thought over, the trail ended abruptly in a clearing. The low grass was dense but well kept; although it was not mowed, the grass all seemed to be at a uniform height with not a weed in sight. The grass held his attention for only a brief moment longer, more interesting was the large stage and the rows of empty chairs set up in front of it.

The chairs were simple, white, folding chairs and there were about 100 of them in rows of 10 with a clear split forming an aisle down the center leading to the stage. The stage itself was of modest size though the curtains which were drawn across the polished teak platform floor were of a rich blue-purple velvet.

It appeared that the whole stage structure was attached to some sort of wagon or caravan.

Curiously, there were no people around. No signs of life or people which one would expect to be associated with a show. There weren’t even visible park benches, houses, wastebaskets or other indicia that the area had sentient life. If it were not for the immaculate spacing and condition of the chairs and stage he would have assumed that this was an abandoned site.

Head spinning (whether from exhaustion or mental stress he wasn’t sure) the man made his way up the centre aisle and to one of the chairs directly in the front row. As he took his seat, he noticed a small amount of movement in the curtains: he’d missed it but he was certain that someone had just been peeking at him.

“Hello?” He raised his voice, almost yelling to the curtains, “Is someone there? Can I get some he-”

“The show will begin momentarily, please remain seated and quiet until then.” He was cut off by a curt, feminine voice from just behind the curtain.

Processing the strangely callous words, he decided to press harder: “Please! I think I need some help, is there a town or hospital nearb-”

The voice behind the curtain cut him off once again, this time he could sense a bit of a frustrated huff accompanying the reply. ”The audience will refrain from asking questions until after the show has concluded.”

He was about to retort, to express frustration at a cry for help being ignored for so simple a reason as a sideshow, when the curtains rocketed open.

A crashing boom of thunder and numerous small flashes dominated the stage. The miniature explosions generated a burst of purple smoke clouds which occluded the stage. Spinning pinwheels of phosphoric sparks danced through the seating area as static bolts crackled from the epicenter to the stage lights, bathing the cacophony in a bright white light. A deep rumbling voice (which sounded suspiciously like the voice he’d heard earlier) belted out “Prepare to be amazed, for you are about to witness THE GREAT AND POWERFUL and, as required by Royal pardon, apologetic TRRRRRRRRRIXIE”

With the last drawn out word and its nasally trilled Rs the smoke cleared to reveal a blue miniature horse wearing a purple cape and wizard hat. To the man’s amazement, this was no static object, as it began to move toward the edge of the stage more fluidly than any animatronic then he’d seen outside of a Hollywood film.

The horse (or was it a pony? He’d never really understood farm nomenclature) seemed to have a smug, self-assured expression on its face, nose upturned and eyes confidently shut as it strode cocksure toward him. Her silver-blue hair spilled over her darker blue coast, a perfect accent to her stunning eyes. With each step, fireworks the likes of which he had never seen exploded from her footsteps, crackling the air with ionizing energy. He had to admit, he was a bit taken in by the grandiosity of the spectacle.

Trixie (or so he assumed from the unmissable narrative introduction) reached the edge of the stage and proceeded to run through a well rehearsed opening act. He could quickly tell that this was some combination of magic and dance show. A rabbit plucked from a wizard hat, conjuring a length of manilla cord dance for her like a snake, and juggling a half dozen stones in mid air with a magical glow prompted awe and disbelief from the man.

He looked out for any easy tells: fishing wire, creaking joints or gears, obvious stitching revealing a costume… nothing. As the tricks flowed one into another he found himself mesmerized by the artistry of the robot in front of him. Even the magic tricks were fascinating and without any giveaways. Some were designed to amaze, some to stupefy, but all were so engrossing as to distract him from his current situation entirely.

With nary a pause in the cadence of her (he assumed it was designed to be a female from her tone and appearance) performance, the pony trotted toward him, casting a diorama of sorts in the air, animating the story she began to tell.

“Behold the POWER and majesty of the unicorn who saved Hoofington from the Ursa Major and liberated Ponyville from the sorceress Twilight Sparkle in an epic magic duel, who braved the smoke swamps of the Eastern realm, and whose beauty outshone Celestia at the Grand Galloping Gala.” The animations shifted and morphed as she spoke, showing the little pony crushing monsters, trading blows with another pony, and dancing in a flowing gown at some kind of ball. As the last scene played out, she twirled on her hind legs, finishing with an exaggerated curtsey.

There was a half-beat of silence, as Trixie prepared for the inevitable boos. Usually at this point in her routine she would face the ire of the assembled crowd... whether that took the form of insults or overripe vegetables usually depended on the time of year (harvest season was the worst for her laundry budget).

Instead for the first time in countless perfotmances she heard something completely unexpected: clapping. She opened her eyes to see the monkey-like minotaur thing on its feet with a bemused smile, cheering heartily.

“Bravo! Most impressive!”

Her jaw fell open.

What… why… how was she supposed to continue her act? She would usually finish things off by outshowing and outclassing the more unruly members of her audience at their very own special talents, shaming the crowd into leaving some bits.

She took a moment and coughed to clear her throat, “You, sir, in the front row: please be seated.” The man took his seat, still gazing up at her with a broad smile. She went on, “what is your name?”

He’d almost forgotten where he was in all the pomp and spectacle of the past hour. The question snapped him back to the present, causing the floor to fall out from under him as panic gripped his heart.

His name?

That was such a simple question, why couldn’t he respond? Something was wrong. Very wrong. How could he not know his name? Think, think, think. Thoughts raced through his head as quickly as a bored teen flipped through TV stations. He couldn’t quite grip any particular thought as they raced out of his grasp.

He noticed the animatronic pony looking at him curiously, when he answered, almost unconsciously “Jacob…. I think.”

“Well Jacob Eyethingk, tell us: aren’t you amazed to be in the presence of the great and powerful Trixie!?” She said with a sweeping gesture of her arm that seemed to have been expertly practiced.

“Well…uh…sure! This show has been pretty incredible!” Despite the panic he was feeling, Jacob had never been one to go against the flow of shows or events. To him heckling and public skepticism just seemed …. rude. That trait aside, he had to admit the show was like nothing he'd experienced thus far.

Trixie was stunned. He likes the show! He thinks it was awesome! A fan!

She hadn’t had one of those since months ago with those two admittedly idiotic colts in Ponyville. Trixie stifled an inadvertent squee and again cleared her throat to regain her composure.

“Sir, tell me: what is your special talent? Do you dare think you are better than the Great and Powerful Trixie in any way?”

“Who me?” Jacob asked incredulously, pointing a finger at his own chest to emphasize his disbelief at being suddenly singled out.

“Please sir, answer quickly. Don’t keep the crowd waiting” Trixie said motioning toward the seating area.

Jacob paused, looking over his left shoulder and then back at the little pony. “Uh...right… the crod...” he murmured before shrugging and answering. “I… umm… I don’t really have any ‘special talents’ I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

Trixie harrumphed. “Of course I don't mean your cutie mark... just something you are good at! Now now Jacob, don’t be shy! If you could do one thing right now what would it be?”

Jacob paused for a moment, there still wasn’t much memory for him to call on. He was still reacting to the present as it occurred. On autopilot so to speak.

Shrugging, Jacob replied, “Nothing really. I’m enjoying the show for now I guess.”

“HAH! You think you can be more gracious than the great and magnanimous Trixie? Watch in amazement!” Trixie took a deep breath and looked at the human, affecting a different look in her eyes. If Jacob had to guess he would say it reminded him of a puppy dog begging for the last scrap of bacon from the breakfast table.

Trixie took her hat in her hands and spoke in a soft tone, all theatrics gone from her voice.

“Thank you so much for your kind words sir. *sniffle* This is the most difficult show of Trixie’s tour. She would skip Ponyville altogether, they hate her so much *sob* but the terms of the Royal pardon forbids her from skipping any stops on her mandated free-admission tour circuit.” She brushed a tear from one of her eyes “It is so nice for Trixie to have a fan after all these shows” Trixie finished by looking into his eyes with a heart-melting pout. If not for the fact that it was an animatronic robot in front of him, Jacob would have leapt on stage to embrace the showmare.

Nonetheless Jacob’s mouth was agape. The transition from showpony to the sad little thing in front of him was about as abrupt as a corvette slamming into a concrete wall. Before he could say anything, the hat was back on and the superior smug smile was on the robot’s (or so he assumed) face.

“Don’t you feel insignificant and arrogant compared to the great and powerful Trixie’s humility? TREMBLE and admit defeat in the face of her overwhelming modesty!”

Trying to parse those statements hurt Jacob’s head a little bit, but in the end he couldn’t help but laugh out loud and applaud once again at the what he assumed was a well executed piece of comedy. “Bravo, bravo!”

Trixie bowed and whipped her cloak about her as she turned away “This concludes the Great and Powerful Trixie Show! You may depart.” She began to make her way back toward the curtains, which were slowly drawing closed.

“Wait, wait, wait! You said I could ask questions once the show was over.” Jacob stated as he stepped up onto the stage. Trixie paused, speaking over her shoulder “Ask away then, Trixie is listening.”

“Well… I mean... first I just gotta say, this is an incredible show, everything seems so real.” Trixie clucked her tongue “Of course it is real! Trixie is no con artist.” Jacob smiled, respecting the commitment of the show operator to the illusion. “The effects, the tricks both were incredible, but nothing compared to this pony” Jacob was now addressing the area behind the curtain, where he suspected the operator was, “she looks so lifelike, graceful and fluid…”

Trixie was blushing brightly “Yes of course, Trixie is incredible is she not?” the blue pony held her chin up high and was beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll say, I didn’t know it was possible to make something so amazing, it’s really incredible! I love the costume” Jacob said as he reached out and touched the fabric, feeling the silken quality of Trixie’s cape. Trixie had burning pink cheeks; it would not be out of place to say that this sort of praise was what she felt the world owed to her and that to be showered with praise was her ultimate satisfaction. “Please, continue.”

“Well.” Jacob went on, taking a step back and looking at the little pony,“its a pretty nice little package… expressive, cute even… must be great with children...”

Trixie could not stifle a squee this time, “wouldn’t you say that she is beautiful?” Trixie said, batting her eyes in what would be a cartoonish manner. Jacob chuckled, this operator had a great sense of humor and incredible timing, he yelled over toward the backstage “sure, very beautiful to look at, if that’s your thing.” Trixie’s tail twitched at the compliment.

Jacob noticed the movement immediately. “The tail moves too? What’s the material made out of?”

The next few moments took only an instant, but Jacob would remember it in a moment by moment, play-by-play timeline. His hand reached forward and grabbed the blue and silver-white tail. He instantly felt the silky nature. It was very convincing… very unlike the polyester or nylon feel he had been expecting. This felt more like real hair, shampooed and conditioned and everything! He couldn’t resist the urge to run his hand through the strands. He had grabbed close to the base of the tail and by running his hand through the strands, it brought the tail toward him and away from its natural position. As it moved, he saw the backside of the pony.

Huh, that’s strange, they made an anatomically correct robot? That seems like it would be a bad idea for a kids’ magic show. They really put a lot of detail into ‘em too… and it’s very definitely a girl robot… wow is that bump there what I think it i-

Before he could process any more of the view, a blur from below zipped into his line of sight. It smashed right into his face. There was a sickening and wet crunching sound and a bright red flash of pain and nausea. A sensation of weightlessness. The taste of copper. A scream (his own?) and then… nothing.

Author's Note

Hello all!

A huge thank you to Mike Teavee's for letting me play in his world. I promise to leave things clean.

I've wanted to write a FIM fic for a while,to stop lurking and shake the rust off my writing skill (please bear with me as the joints are oiled).

For this story the two main things I wanted to do were an exploration of Trixie Lulamoon and the Equestrian justice system. We see so many events in the show and fiction that are swept under the rug by the Princesses, and that sort of thing has consequences. You also can't deal with all the little crimes and misdemeanors of entire kingdom if all decisions must come from the crown. Designing a court system will be a blast. The Leroverse is particularly well developed in characters and has sufficient moral conflict and action to avoid needing to do a tired exploration of human meets world that I'd need to slog through before getting to the meat of my story.

I expect to catch a bit of flak for bringing another human into the Leroverse. Trust me when I say I had a bit of back and forth with my editor and sounding board on this issue. There are just too many things I plan to do with Jacob that would be too impactful on Lero, and I feel like any human-Trixie character development would end up with Lero dealing with a complex harem/multi-pony romance situation, which is not the focus of the story. Having a second human will allow more flexibility and possibly some fun 'been there' moments from Lero. I promise that steps will be taken to keep the second (3rd if you count Gus) human in Equestria under wraps.

Hope the story is enjoyed and feel free to leave any comments, good or bad!