The Conversion Bureau: Price of Admission
Thomas winced as the spinning arm on the automated loom sliced across his arm, leaving a thin red line to join the multitude of scars crisscrossing his flesh. Yanking his arm back before it could finish the job of tearing it off, he wiped at the blood in a frantic attempt to catch it before it fell onto the length of fabric. Unfortunately, gravity had other plans, and a single fat drop fell onto the fabric. He prayed that this time he’d get away without anyone seeing it, but as fate would have it the shift supervisor was looking in his direction as it happened.
“An’ just what ‘ave we got here?” The overweight man said as he came down the line faster than his size would suggest. “Ye cut yerself eh? Looks mighty bad. An’ ye spoiled some fabric too, thas’ a right bloody shame.”
Even though he knew what was coming, the blow sent him sprawling from the platform he and the other children were standing on.
“Ye bloody idiot, do ye ‘ave any idea how much the fabric costs?” He shouted, advancing on Thomas with his hand upraised. “I’m dockin’ yer wages for this ye clumsy fool!”
Thomas scooted further away from the supervisor, his injured arm held close to his chest. “Please sir, I’ll be more careful next time! I promise!”
The supervisor snorted, spitting a wad of saliva on the floor. “Bah, ye ain’t even worth my time, now git. Y’know where the medical supplies are.” He turned and waddled his way back down the line, bellowing at another child who’d misthreaded a loom.
Thomas walked down the line, finally coming to the box mounted on the wall with the red cross on the front. Opening it, he pulled out a grimy roll of bandages and began to unroll a strip when a flash of color caught his eye. Through the window he could see a green quadruped trotting down the street, a top hat perched atop his lavender mane. The ponies had become a common sight in London over the past six years, especially with the creation of the Bureaus two years ago. Thomas had heard stories from some of the other kids on the line, something about how the country the ponies came from was nicer than anything in London. But the factory owners and nobles had been quick to ensure that they wouldn’t lose too many of their workers. The ponies offered the potion for free, but the cost of processing the paperwork for renouncing your English citizenship for Equestrian ensured the working class couldn’t afford it.
“Thomas! Get yer lazy ass back on tha line!” The supervisor shouted. Thomas yanked his gaze away from the pony, the twelve year old wishing for one second that he’d be able to be one of those happy equines trotting down the street.
Thomas felt his father shaking him awake about twenty seconds after he’d closed his eyes. Yawning, he rolled out of bed hurriedly, wincing as he jarred his injured arm on the edge. Breakfast consisted of grabbing a stale biscuit and a quick cup of water from the community pump outside their meager house.
Thomas remembered when waking up in the mornings had been nicer, back when his mother was still around. She’d always found something nice to say or otherwise kept him from being depressed about waking up two hours before sunrise to trek to work.
“Now do your best to keep from getting hurt again son. We can’t afford to have your wages docked like that again, alright?” His dad said as they separated; Thomas going to the textile factory, his father to the coal processing factory.
“Sure thing Dad! I’ll see you tonight… unless you know, you’re asleep.” Thomas said in a lame attempt at a joke. His father smiled tiredly and waved as he plodded off down the street.
Thomas continued down the dark streets, shivering a little in the September cold. His gaze was so focused on the ground in front of his feet that he didn’t see the pony until he’d run headlong into it, knocking both of them to the ground.
“Ow!” Thomas whined as he felt his knee sing out in pain from getting banged on the cobblestone. Then realizing he’d run into someone, he jumped awkwardly to his feet. “I’m so sorry mister! I didn’ mean it, honest!”
The pony, an amber earth pony stallion with a dark chestnut mane, rolled awkwardly to his hooves and shook his head to clear it. “No harm done there lad, no need to apologize.” The pony held out a hoof. “My name’s Cinnamon Twist, what’s yours?”
Thomas hesitated for a second, then reached out and shook the offered limb. “I’m Thomas, Thomas Parker.” He suddenly gasped. “I’m gonna be late!” He hurried down the street, turning as he heard a clatter of hooves on stone.
Cinnamon Twist gave him a smile as he easily kept pace. “What do you mean you’re going to be late?” The stallion looked down and saw the wrapping on his arm. “Good heavens, what happened to your arm? Are you badly hurt?”
Thomas shook his head. “No, I just slipped at work. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? I do know a unicorn who’s good with healing magic, he could fix that up in a jiffy.” Cinnamon said as they turned the corner, the textile factory coming into view. “Wait, this is where you work?”
“Yessir, it’s what my mom used to do, so when she got sick I started covering for her, then when she... died I just started working her shifts all the time.” Thomas said sadly.
Cinnamon folded his ear back. “That’s... I’m so sorry.”
Thomas shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
Cinnamon seemed to think for a second, then his ears perked up. “Maybe I can see you after you get off work then?”
Thomas seemed taken aback, despite having heard how friendly the ponies could be. “You really mean it?”
“Well sure, I love making new friends!” Cinnamon said with a smile.
Thomas thought about it for a few seconds. “Well, I guess that would be alright. I get off of work at sundown, can you meet me back here?”
Cinnamon beamed. “I sure can! I’ll see you then, okay?” The stallion followed Thomas the rest of the way to the factory and watched him go in with a smile. As soon as he was sure the door was shut, a frown replaced the smile and he trotted towards the Conversion Bureau on Leyton Street. He’d heard about how hard it was for the lower class, but this wasn’t right.
After making his way down the still empty streets he finally came to his destination, the familiar aging structure reassuring some of the unease that he’d been feeling. Climbing the steps he grasped the handle in his mouth and opened the door, revealing a sleepy looking pegasus mare.
“Good morning Sky Drift.” Cinnamon said as he walked up to the desk.
“Mornin’ Cinnamon, what has you up and about this early in the morning?” She asked with a yawn.
“Well, I just wanted to get out and see the town. Most of my time is spent working in the kitchen here, after all. But I ran into this boy, they have him working in the textile factory a few blocks over.”
“Well, isn’t it like how things are in Equestria? I mean, fillies and colts often take side jobs to earn some bits.” Sky glanced out the window, wondering when the day shift pony would arrive.
“I don’t think that he’s sweeping floors, he had a bandage on his arm.” Cinnamon said urgently.
“Well, I’ll ask around, see if anypony else knows anything. Now, they need you in the kitchen, we’ve got a full round of Conversions today.”
Cinnamon sighed and shook his head as he made his way past the foyer toward the kitchen. Regardless of what anypony else said, he knew something was up, and he wasn’t going to rest until he figured it out.
Thomas scratched his head lazily as he walked out of the factory. Today had gone better, in that he’d not gotten cut or messed up on feeding the looms. Unfortunately, the girl two platforms down had broken a few ribs when the flying shuttle accidentally shot clear of the machine. She’d been fired on the spot for her laxity.
As he made his way down the steps, he looked up to see a familiar four-legged shape waiting for him, a pair of saddlebags across its back. “Cinnamon! You remembered!” He said, wearily walking across the street.
“Well of course I did, I’d not let a friend down.” Cinnamon said proudly. “So, what do you usually do after you get out of work?”
Thomas yawned. “Well, usually I just go home and try to get a biscuit and maybe some salt pork before bed. We don’t have time for much else these days.”
Cinnamon seemed torn between wanting to feel even sadder for his new friend, and smiling at the news he’d be delivering. “Well... I was thinking, if you wanted to... I work in the kitchens over at the Bureau, and we sometimes have some food left over...” The smile won out as Thomas visibly brightened.
“You really mean it? You’d share food with us?”
“Well of course, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
Thomas didn’t even answer, throwing his arms around the stallion’s neck in a massive bearhug only children can deliver. Cinnamon smiled warmly and hooked a foreleg around the child.
“Well, as nice as free hugs are, it’s only getting later. Shall we get going?” Cinnamon asked after a minute.
Thomas let him go, an ear to ear grin on his face as he led the stallion down the street. In the window of the factory, a single fat figure could be seen watching the pair.
Cinnamon had not disappointed. From the depths of his saddlebags he’d produced a few apples, some bottles of juice, a loaf of fresh bread, and a container of fresh vegetables. Thomas’ father’s objections had dried up at the virtual feast laid out before them.
After the initial feeding frenzy, Thomas and his father had started asking Cinnamon about what it was like working at the Bureau.
“Oh, I love it. Working in the kitchen’s my special talent you see,” The stallion turned a little, showing them his cutie mark, a pair of cinnamon sticks twisted around each other, “and being able to not only serve people good food, but to see their first meal as a pony... nothin’ better.” Cinnamon said with a small smile. Then he looked at the two humans curiously. “Have either of you two considered ponification? I admit we haven’t seen any workers from the factories come in.”
Thomas’ father laughed harshly. “Ya, only the paperwork costs so damn much only those fat bastards who got money can afford it.”
Cinnamon looked confused. “What do you mean? There’s no charge for any of the services the Bureau offers.”
“Ah, but ye see, you gotta get your paperwork taken care of, since ye can’t be a citizen of both England and Equestria, and they charge money for that. More than us workin’ folks can afford.”
“Well that doesn’t seem fair.” Cinnamon said, a look of disbelief on his muzzle.
“Now that’s a good one. You lot have been here for six years, and you think life here is fair?” Thomas’ father barked a short laugh, but it soon turned into a series of hacking coughs.
“But... that’s unthinkable!” Cinnamon said, aghast. “Ponification was supposed to be available to all who wanted it!”
The dinner table was silent. Thomas then spoke up. “Is there something you can do?”
Cinnamon frowned. “I don’t know. I could try and talk to the staff at the Bureau when I get back. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning outside the factory, okay Thomas? I know for sure the rest of the staff will want to help.”
Thomas’ father stood. “Well, as nice as the idea is, we’ve been up far too late. Thomas, off to bed with you. Thank you very much for the food Mr. Twist.” He extended his hand, Cinnamon meeting it with a hoof.
“I think we’re friends enough for you to call me Cinnamon, Mr...?”
“Name’s Carter.” The two shook for a second longer, then Cinnamon threw the saddlebags across his shoulders and trotted out.
Carter shut the door behind the stallion and shook his head in amusement. “Bloody idealist.” He put the few plates and utensils they owned into the sink and started to shuffle toward his room when he heard a noise from outside. Listening for a second longer, Carter shrugged as he didn’t hear anything. But just to make sure, he walked to the front door and opened it, only to see two figures standing there. Before he could say anything, one hefted a metal pipe and swung it at his head.
Carter felt consciousness returning, along with a whole lot of pain centered in his head. He tried to move his arms, only to find that they were tied behind him, the same for his legs. At this, he opened his eyes, realizing that he was bound to a chair.
“Is anyone there?” He said weakly. He could hear someone getting to their feet behind him, heavy footfalls as their owner came into view. It was a heavyset man, who he recognized after some thought as the supervisor at Thomas’ factory.
“Well well, glad ta see ye woke up. Seems like you and yer boy made a new friend.” The way he said it made it plain that it wasn’t a question. “Now, it always makes me sad when I see chaps not understandin’ the very simple facts o’ life. Y’see, it’s awful nice of them ponies to offer somethin’ like that potion fer free and all. Except. When. It takes our FUCKING workers!” He shouted, his chins wobbling. “It’s very simple. You do yer jobs, you keep yer heads down, and you DON’T ASK QUESTIONS! The last thing this country needs is for us to lose our workforce to a bunch of bright an’ cheery equines!”
“Look, I’ll not talk to the pony again, and make sure my son doesn’t either, just let me go.” Carter pleaded, only to hear another person push themselves to their feet.
“Oh I know, but I think yer boy could use a more... visual reminder.” The fat man said as another came into view, this one holding a pipe loosely in one hand. “Just make it quick, we don’t want his boy to wake up without his father, now do we?”
Carter struggled against the chair as the man lifted the pipe, a wicked smile forming on his face as he swung the pipe down. Again. And again. And again.
Cinnamon paced nervously outside the textile factory, wondering where Thomas was. After getting back to the Bureau last night, he’d talked to the night staff about what he’d learned, and they’d all agreed that something needed to be done. But as for what that something actually was, they hadn’t really known what to do. Sky Drift had taken a letter back to Equestria, but nopony had any idea when to expect her to come back.
Finally, he could see Thomas walking up the road, and started forward, relief filling him. But he realized that something was wrong immediately, the boy’s shoulders were slumped and his steps forlorn.
“Thomas, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Thomas said quietly.
“But-”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouted, stomping up the steps and into the factory.
Cinnamon stared sadly at the door, ears folded back. After a few minutes his expression hardened and he trotted off. Now he definitely knew something was wrong. First, he’d go to Thomas’ house, see if anypony was home. Then back to the Bureau to talk to the others about what they would do.
He hurried down the streets, finally seeing the right house come into view. As he drew close, he suddenly froze, nose twitching. There was no mistaking that coppery stink anywhere. Bringing his head close to the ground, he sniffed along until he came to a small splotch of dried blood right outside the door. Raising his head in alarm, he pushed hard against the door. When it refused to open, he did the only thing he could think of. Turning about, he leaned forward onto his front legs and kicked out with his rear ones, bucking the door in with a sharp crack of wood.
“Carter! Are you alright?” He shouted as he hurried inside. He couldn’t see anypony in the living room, but a groan from the rear of the house sent him galloping down the hall, only to stop dead in front of the one open door.
“What was that noise?” Carter asked weakly, raising his head from the bed. His face was a roadmap of bruises, which continued down the parts of his body that Cinnamon could see. His hands looked to be broken, and so did one foot. The sheets were stained a horrid mix of red and yellow, and the room positively reeked of blood.
“By the Sun and the Moon, what happened?” Cinnamon asked, his instinct to bolt warring with his worry for Carter’s wellbeing. His worry won out and he trotted carefully into the room, sitting down next to the bed. He gagged a little as he looked over Carter’s face.
“Well, I tripped.” Carter said with a weak laugh.
“Tripped my flank! Who did this to you?” Cinnamon said, a twinge of actual anger entering his voice.
Carter coughed wetly and turned his head toward the stallion. “I can’t tell you, please don’t try to make me.”
Cinnamon thought about it for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do next. His eyes widened in sudden realization “This is about last night isn’t it? What we talked about?” The room swam as he realized that he was responsible for this. “By Celestia I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Not your fault, couldn’t have known this would happen.”
“No, nononononono, we can fix this... I can take you to the Bureau, we can ponify you, it’d heal your injuries and-” Cinnamon stopped as Cart sat bolt upright with a groan of agony.
“No! They told me... hurt Thomas...”
Cinnamon delicately put a hoof on Carter’s chest and eased him back to lying down. “Just relax. I can go to the Bureau, get the others, we can come back when Thomas gets home...” The sound of footsteps on the floor behind him made him freeze. Turning his head slowly, he saw a large man standing in the doorway, lightly tapping a pipe on his shoulder.
“Well ain’t this a sight.” The man growled, taking a heavy step into the room. “I thought the boss made it clear to ya last night Carter. Why can’t you listen?”
“Y-you stay back!” Cinnamon shouted, ears plastered against his head in fear, but eyes hard as he dug a hoof against the floor.
The man only chuckled, lips pulling back from his rotting teeth. “Alright then little pony. You can be first.” he lunged forward, swinging the pipe in a brutal downward strike. Cinnamon jumped sideways, but took a glancing blow to the shoulder. Hissing in pain, he charged forward, ramming his head into the human’s stomach, knocking him out the door and into the hallway.
The man grunted and dropped the pipe, but managed to keep his feet. Grabbing Cinnamon by the mane and neck, he flung him down the hall and into the frame of the door. Crying out, Cinnamon scrabbled to his hooves as the man thundered down the hall toward him. He tried to rear to buck him, but his left hind leg gave out and he collapsed to the floor with a wheeze, followed by a sharp yelp as the weight of the man came crashing down on him.
Cinnamon squirmed in an attempt to get free, but the man clamped his hands around his neck and started squeezing. Kicking his legs feebly, Cinnamon felt his chest starting to burn as his lungs tried vainly to get oxygen. His eyes started rolling up into his head and he wondered if the last thing he saw would be this human’s hate-filled eyes. He thought of all the things from back home in Equestria that he’d never get to see again, and his family...
Mom, Dad, I’m sorry... he thought as his vision started to fade.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and the pressure on his neck let up. Gasping desperately for air, Cinnamon felt the man slump off him to the floor and he squirmed away. Staggering to his hooves again, he blinked rapidly to clear his vision and saw Carter standing then, swaying weakly on his feet, the pipe held in both hands.
“Sorry, took me a little while to get out of bed.” Carter said weakly before starting to fall to the floor. Cinnamon rushed forward and caught him, trying not to start freaking out about the blood starting to ooze onto his coat.
“Come on, we need to get you back into bed. I’ll go to the Bureau, get one of the doctors there. We can bring the potion, use it to heal you.”
“But... Thomas... I can’t just leave him...”
“We can ponify him too, get both of you into the Bureau where you’ll be safe.” Cinnamon said as he helped Carter back into bed.
“No... Want to wait... till he...”
Cinnamon nodded. “I understand.”
“You still... leaving?” Carter asked as he laid back down, eyes already starting to drift closed.
“Of course not. I’ll wake you when he gets home.” Cinnamon said firmly as Carter passed out. Getting to his hooves, Cinnamon trotted back into the living room, trying not to vomit at the sight of the man lying on the floor, blood mixed with whitish grey fluid leaking onto the floor. Sighing to himself, he carefully took hold of the man’s shirt and dragged him out of the way of the door. No sense in that being the first thing Thomas saw when he got home. He suddenly remembered that everypony would be looking for him at the Bureau, which made things a little easier, since he’d told them where Thomas and Carter lived.
Sure enough, after about half an hour, there was a thud of hooves on the ground outside. Cinnamon looked out the door to see the Bureau’s resident speed addict, Blitz Tempo, trotting hesitantly inside, no doubt off-put by the smell.
“Yo, Cinnamon? What’s going on in-” he stopped as he saw the body, “Holy skies, what in Celestia’s name happened here?”
Cinnamon sighed. “They’ve been lying to us Blitz. They charge money for the paperwork from their government, so that the workers in their factories can’t afford it. And on top of that, they have kids barely out of foalhood working the same jobs as adults. I learned this from Thomas and Carter, and then somepony sent him,” he gestured to the body with a hoof, “to silence Carter, and me.” He suddenly looked up. “I need you to go back to the Bureau, get two doses of potion and Doctor Softheart, and hurry back here.”
“Why?” Blitz asked, confusion written across his face.
Cinnamon shook his head in aggravation. “We need Softheart to help tend to Carter’s injuries, and the potion to ponify both him and Thomas, should they accept it. The only safe place in town for them now is the Bureau, or better yet Equestria.”
“Oh, I got ya. I’ll be back in a flash!” He shouted as he galloped outside and leaped into the air, arrowing over the buildings and out of sight.
Cinnamon let out another sigh and turned back into the house, deciding to pass the time straightening up a little. Periodically he’d go check on Carter, helping him to the outhouse when needed, and making sure he stayed comfortable.
After another half hour, he heard the faint clatter of hooves on dirt and looked to see Softheart trotting up, Blitz Tempo at his side.
“Thank you so much for coming Softheart. Carter’s right back there, he’s been sleeping for most of the day.” Cinnamon said as he ushered the three inside. Blitz sat down as far as he could from the body while Softheart and Cinnamon hurried back to Carter’s room.
“By Celestia...” Softheart muttered as he saw the mess in the room. “I... I’m not sure how much help I can be. Some of this looks to be deep tissue and bone damage.” He lit his horn, sweeping a light pulse of indigo magic across Carter’s body. As the light crawled across his skin, the bruises began to fade, some of the smaller cuts closing. Carter took a deep breath in relief and slowly opened his eyes.
“Wha...?”
“Hello there. My name is Doctor Softheart. I heard you had a pretty rough night.” The unicorn said with a wry chuckle.
“You could say that again.” Carter said, looking at his chest where a bruise had just been.
Softheart’s expression fell. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do for the deeper damage and broken bones. At least not with healing magic.” He opened his saddlebags and levitated out two vials of softly glowing purple fluid.
Carter stared hard at the vials. “I told Cinnamon, I won’t take that gunk until Thomas gets home and we can talk this over as a family.”
Softheart nodded. “I understand. We’ll be right outside if you need anything.” The two ponies trotted out to the living room.
“Now what?” Cinnamon asked.
“We wait.” Silverheart said plainly.
---
It was about half an hour after sundown when Thomas sprinted through the still broken front door, initially scared of the body in the living room until Cinnamon assured him that Carter was okay. They’d brought a chair into the bedroom, and helped Carter sit up. Softheart stood in the doorway as the room was a little crowded with two humans and a pony in it.
Carter looked at his son for a few long minutes. “Well son, what do you want to do? I know that it seems like there isn’t a choice, given how hurt I am, but I want you to make your own choice. We’re a family, and always will be, even if one of us is a pony and the other isn’t.”
Thomas thought about it for a long time, then looked at Cinnamon. “Does it hurt?”
Cinnamon shook his head. “Not at all. You just fall asleep for a little while, and when you wake up you’re a pony.”
Thomas looked down at the floor for a bit, then back to his father. Finally reaching his decision, he nodded. “Alright Dad, let’s do it.” He reached out and took Carter’s hand. “Together.”
Carter smiled. “Together.”
Doctor Softheart nodded and walked into the room, levitating the two vials of potion out of his saddlebags. He passed one to Thomas and one to Carter. The two humans held them, staring at the softly glowing potion inside before meeting each other’s eyes. With a nod they lifted their vial to their mouths and downed the contents in one swallow.
“It tastes like... grapes...” Thomas managed to mutter before slumping to the floor, Cinnamon bracing him as his skin began to turn waxy.
---
Thomas opened his eyes, yawning as he felt the hard floor under him. Looking around, he could see Doctor Softheart, Cinnamon, and another stallion, this one a unicorn too. Its coat was dark orange and mane a light green, but the brown eyes and warm smile were unmistakable.
“Dad!” Thomas cried, trying to leap up from the floor to give his dad a hug. Instead his legs went in every direction and he fell back on the floor in a tangle of limbs. “I... The dream...”
“Yeah, it was something else, wasn’t it? Now take it easy there son, you’ve got two extra legs after all.” Carter said as he and Cinnamon helped the new pony to his hooves. Looking himself over, Thomas didn’t see any wings, and after lifting a hoof awkwardly to his forehead, he found he wasn’t a unicorn either. His coat was a soft blue, mane such a light grey it was almost white.
“So I’m like you Cinnamon?” Thomas asked excitedly.
“Yep. Now come on, let’s help you figure out walking. It’s a bit of a hike to the Bureau.”
Together, the mismatched herd made its way down the dark streets, toward a future brighter than two of them ever thought possible.