Chapters The Conversion Bureau: Tale of a Reluctant Newfoal
“Since you're alone, and there's no way in hell you're 16, I have to ask if you're orphaned or emancipated.” The fifty-ish lady crewing the front desk (for lack of a better term) of Conversion Camp 4077 asked, her Afrikaans accent thick with weariness. A camp … with only a few weeks left before the end, the Bureaus were long gone, replaced by movable tent cities where Humans walked in by the thousands and Ponies walked out, often the same day, sometimes the next. Usually with a bare-bones packet to orient them to their new life, but even that wasn't guaranteed.
“Disowned. Said he'd paint the wall with my brains if I came back. Told me that if I was such a pansy, I should go play with the pansy Ponies. His words.” Well, that demon – I won't call him my father, not after even a quarter of the shit he's done – said a lot more, but the clerk didn't need to hear it, or the rest of my sob story. “I don't have anyone else.”
“Alright, I'll list you as 'Emancipated' … what's your name – both birth and Pony if you have one – GIN, and date of birth?” Six weeks before Ragnarok, and she's focused on her damn paperwork? Some things never change, really. Still, I was getting my way out – even six months ago, I'd have been up shit creek without a paddle, but as the end drew nearer, they were Ponifying those under sixteen without a legal guardian – hell, we got priority.
“Lukas A. Gunter. You don't want to know what the 'A' stands for. No Pony name yet. GIN 27-038-3827-4707, and February 28th, 2079” She started slightly at the date of birth – no surprise, I'm not exactly big for my age, and have something of a babyface. “Any other beans for your bosses to count?”
“Nope. This is just so that if any of your relatives do show up, we can reunite you with them.” Pull the other one, it has bells on it. WorldGov just wants us all tagged and collared, up to the point when we leave. And besides, the only family that could care died years ago, and even if the PER finally got the Old Rat or his Toady, I still don't want to see either of them. “There, you're good to go. There's a map of the complex just inside. Report to Tent 23 by 1400 hours. You're free until then. Good luck.” She managed a tired smile before I walked off and she greeted the family behind me. Lucky them. They'd return to Johannesburg when they were done and let the barrier incorporate them as a part of their community. Kids without, like me – or even if they just had a fairly young sibling or two – would be airlifted to the old base camp in Equestria to be fostered by Equestrian or established Newfoal families. Unlike some, I never had any yearning for it – I just didn't want to catch a terminal case of the deads. Still, I was used to moving, and a clean break with the past might be nice.
Sure enough, the directory was right where she said it would be, a big multicolor plastic thing, with everything marked in numbers and symbols, with a big purple “4077” in the upper right-hand corner. Apparently, everything got set up the exact same way whenever they pulled up and moved. They had the forethought to put a clock next to the sign, one display showed the current time – 1337 hours – and the other counting down until Zero Point. Crap, just over 20 minutes until I had to get to my destination, and from the map, I barely had the time to duck into a bathroom. Also, this place was huge, there were over a hundred tents, each maybe thirty meters long and ten wide, looking like field barracks from those war movies I used to endure – all in that army green, with a white number painted on every side of it. And they were all full of people, Human and Pony … mostly the former set on becoming the latter, and the latter getting a brief adjustment time, a swift meal and shove out the door so the next wave could come in.
As I walked towards Tent 23, I noticed patterns to the flow like an assembly line; my journey to Ponydom might snake a bit, but it was pretty much linear: enter in the east, conversion to the north of that, west to orientation, then south to eat, then leave at the west. I'm pretty sure that the overall direction was deliberate … Ponies – well, Equestrian Ponies at least – have stronger cultural links to the sun than Humans do, and that's saying a lot. Hell, apparently one of their rulers moved their world's sun … it sounds fucking stupid, sure, but seeing as I'm fifteen minutes away from drinking a magic potion to turn me into a technicolor magic horse in order to avoid getting killed by an advancing force field that's eating the world, I won't pass judgment before I see evidence.
The Barrier, that's the scariest thing I can think of … it's been a growing shadow in my mind for over six years … it appeared as I was breaking free of my little-kid fears, and replaced them all. Well, almost all of them at least. The scariest moment came last June, when they showed Olduvai Gorge – where Humanity was born – being consumed by the Barrier. Scared the Old Rat too, and he didn't take it well. Never did, especially not when someplace important to Humanity fell. The worst was Athens; that was when … not going there. Happy thoughts. All that fear is going to be gone soon, and the more immediate fears too, all in one fell swoop.
At last, I reach the bathrooms – oddly enough, they're unisex … must be a Pony thing. I've read that they don't split bathrooms by gender in Equestria, though I've obviously never been in a position to check. Heck, even in the Human side of the bathroom, everything hints at what we'll soon become – even the crude drawings on the stall walls – such as the one of a flying Pegasus stallion taking a leak, captioned “I gotta piss like a race horse before I become one”. Yeah, I laughed. What of it? What wasn't funny was the crudely drawn Human skull someone else had drawn near the end of his stream. I mean, yeah, I get gallows humor, but this just needlessly twisted the knife.
Opening my stall, I almost accidentally hit a girl with the door. That's right, a girl. Coed bathroom. “Shit! Sorry! Didn't see you there. You OK?” Just my luck, ten minutes left as a Human, and I almost hurt someone.
“It's all good … you missed me. Apology accepted, though.” She was more-or-less my age, dark skin, dreadlocks down to the middle of her back, and a willowy build. Her outfit struck me as well – patchwork coveralls in a riot of red, gold, and green. “I'm Windsong. What's your name?”
“Lukas … haven't thought of a Pony name yet. Pleased to meet you, though.” Damn, it was weird to talk to someone while casually washing your hands in a public bathroom … guys didn't do that, at least Human ones didn't. No clue about stallions … one more thing to get used to, I guess.
“Waiting to see what kind of Pony you turn into? My brother's doing that … has some ideas, but isn't committing to any of them.”
“Something like that … also, I haven't really had time to think about it. Long story.” Nope, I refuse to burden someone so happy with my troubles. It'd be like kicking a puppy or something. “Are you here with your parents too, or just your brother?”
“Just Jim … our parents are gone … got caught between the PER and the HLF last year. We're going to be fostered in Equestria.” Ah, fellow orphans. There were no shortage of those, and supposedly Celestia herself had anticipated this, and was part of why there was such an emphasis on immigration in the first few years, so that new communities could be built to help raise the displaced children of dying Earth. We met up with her brother outside – also fairly close to my age, couldn't tell if they were twins or just a year or so apart – and, while he shared his sister's lanky physique, his personality seems to be a total opposite of hers … withdrawn, quiet, borderline brooding. Or maybe just overwhelmed with emotion. Either way, he barely acknowledged my presence, his eyes a thousand miles away. Just a nod and a grunt.
“Where are you from?” I asked. The conversion tents were all in the same area, and some companionship sounded nice.
“Nairobi” Jim grunted, wearily.
“Our dad was from there, but our mom was from Roanoke in the Northamerizone.” Windsong, on the other hand more than made up for her brother's quiet demeanor.
“Not familiar with it, though I only really know the big cities there – New York, Washington, LA, and so forth. Where's it at?”
“It's up in the mountains, about four hundred kilometers southwest of Washington … it's a smaller city, or at least it was … it got Included back in Year 4.” Windsong's voice seemed far away, almost wistful talking about it. “Mom was a folk singer, grew up singing and made a career out of it, it's how she met Dad, actually.
“Was he a fellow musician?”
“Only an amateur one, he was a Physicist as his day job, but he loved music, didn't matter what kind … always said the universe had it's own song, and his job was to help us all learn just a few more notes of it.”
We were all kinda tearing up at that last part, so I decided to change the subject. “On a different note, are you twins or something?”
“Nah, I'll be fourteen in June, but Jim won't be thirteen until September.” Hmm, that'd put me right in between them in age.
“Way to rub it in, Sis!”
“Sorry!”
We arrived at our tents with only a couple minutes to spare. Jim and I would be going into tent 23, while Windsong was assigned to tent 24 just across the dusty path. “I'll catch up with both of you afterwards” she promised, holding up a pendant shaped like a crescent moon inside a stylized sun.
Jim and I walked into the tent, unlike the sweltering, smelly bathroom there was a palpable coolness inside. Just inside was a middle-aged man sitting at a table, a shit-eating grin pasted just below his sleazy mustache. “Names?” I don't know how he managed to sound bored, irritated, and smug at the same time, but he did it in a one-word question.
“James Otieno”
“Lukas Gunter”
“OK. Consider yourselves checked in. Find an open mat, and be sure to note the number above it. We'll begin once everyone's here, or at 1400 sharp, whichever comes first.” With that, he waved dismissively to shoo us onward. After all, people were coming in behind that.
Scratch that, boys were coming in behind us. And the tent was mostly full of boys. Yeah, there were a few androgynous looking kids in there, but nobody looked actually feminine. It seemed odd, fishy even, to be divided up by gender, especially after the unisex bathroom.
“Something's up.” James voiced my concerns before I could.
“Yeah, it sure seems like it to me, too.” I tried to contain my reluctance as best I could, but at least some got through. “Still, I don't think we have any alternative.” At this point, there was no room for anyone's doubts or second thoughts, not with the End Of All Things a month and a half away - once we were into the system, we either Ponied up on our one chance, or we died horribly of magic poisoning when the Barrier came for us. According to the news, there wouldn't be enough time, enough potion to save everyone, and that those under 30 (and their immediate families) got priority, and everyone else was on the lottery system – if your GIN was selected, you had two days to report to a Conversion Camp and get Ponified, otherwise that's all she wrote, and your potion would go to someone else. In the highly unlikely case that everyone's number came up, they'd re-randomize and call again, with a shorter deadline. As of this morning, it looked like there'd be enough potion for about half of the older adults and all of us younger ones, though that estimate could change easily if PER forces surrendered their own stockpiles, or if Worldgov troops captured it – both of which had happened more than once – or if the HLF managed to sabotage it, which they hadn't managed to for well over a year, though not for lack of trying.
Jim and I wound up near the back, at mats 88 and 87 respectively. It was a fairly sterile setup that had clearly been honed to a minimum – the mat itself was a foam rubber gym mat, and off to the side there was a partially full bin of clothes – again, all fairly masculine – a folding metal table, and a mirror. We had maybe a minute to catch our bearings before a swarthy, portly man who looked to be about fifty walked up to the front of the room.
“Can I get everyone's attention please?” I couldn't really place his accent, though it wasn't anywhere near thick enough to make him hard to understand. Just enough to drive me bananas. “Ok, first off, it's time to strip, and put your clothes in the bin next to the mat. You won't be needing them anymore, and quite frankly, they're a danger to you while you're transforming. If you want, though, you can retain an accessory or other trinket to help companions elsewhere recognize you. Just be sure to take it off and place it on the tray table, along with any other small, non-electronic keepsakes. While you're doing that, I'll go over a few things”
I did as he asked, though I didn't have anything to put aside – I hadn't been allowed to keep anything of Mom's, and never really had anything of my own, unlike Rolf. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jim set aside a pendant that matched his sister's.
“OK, you're all going to be part of a pilot program; since there's currently a bit of a shortage of our regular potion, and since Equestria only has one stallion per five mares, we're going to be emulating that ratio among the fosterlings we send there in order to minimize the disruptions in their culture. Because of that, we're going to be using our supply of red potion - courtesy of the P.E.R. - to make most of you fillies. If I call out your number, come to the front for your potion, you will be colts. Just don't drink until you're back at your mat. Everyone else, your potion will be brought to you; if you choose to back out, you will not get another chance to Pony Up. You will drink the potion you are given today, or none at all.” A murmur rose up in the tent. How in the hell was this legal? How was it possible? When this all began, it was guaranteed that we'd all be converted as our own gender, hell, Worldgov even considered your gender to be sacrosanct, in as much as they gave a shit about your human rights to begin with. So either Equestria altered the deal, or this was happening without Worldgov's approval. Before I could pursue that line of thought much further, the old windbag had one more bomb to drop. “Before I start calling names, would anyone volunteer to go filly and improve everyone else's chances?”
“I will” the voice came from the front, from a kid who couldn't have been much older than six.
“I volunteer as tribute!” That was from an older boy-who-wouldn't-be-one-long – maybe fifteen or sixteen.
“Tribute? Are you on drugs or something?” Someone else shouted, around the same age.
“Don't you ever read, numb-nuts?”
“That's enough insults. We have twenty one and sixty three volunteering, any others?” After about thirty seconds of silence, Windbag continued. “Alright, it looks like that's our volunteers. I salute you. Now to find out who'll become colts.” With that, he began calling out numbers. Jim's was called fairly early on, and other than sighs of relief and him calling numbers, it was almost too quiet. Quiet enough that I could hear how he was getting his numbers – fucker was rolling dice! With our bodies, our manhood on the line! Even as Jim went up and got his purple potion, my number was never called.
The Old Rat would be laughing his ass off if he knew, I was always the unmanly one, never measured up to Rolf … always “Sissy”, always “wuss” always told that I might as well be a girl … to hell with this world and it's unreasonable standards, of forcing me into a mold. Fuck Earth, trying to squish me into something I'm not, then ripping away the shreds of my attempt like filthy rags. Maybe that's all masculinity was worth in the end. Hell, maybe that's all Humanity was worth – and whoever'd drawn the skull on the bathroom wall was right. I took my potion from the attendant, eased myself into a reclining position, and saluted this hellhole with my cup, lifting a line from some old movie. “Farewell Earth, don't let the door hit ya on the way out!” I downed the contents in one long pull like I was told, and my last thought before darkness took me was that it tasted like cough syrup.
Author's Note
My thanks to Peach Clover for his suggestions about the red potion and riot control.
The Conversion Bureau: Tale of a Reluctant Newfoal
At first, it seemed like I was floating in a silvery void, but slowly I realized that I wasn't floating, I was running – it was as if my body somehow materialized as it was moving. I felt my legs first, then my tail, with the parts in between coming after, oddly enough. I didn't really look at my body, though, mostly because thousands of Ponies shimmered into being alongside me, one by one, representing the full spectrum of Equinity – all Tribes (I vaguely remembered that was the preferred term for the different types), colors, ages, genders, and so forth seemed to be represented. I say seemed, because they all remained translucent and shimmery. Meanwhile, the void itself changed to an unfamiliar night sky, the full moon and numberless stars appearing, as if the once-diffuse light concentrated into them. As I ran with the phantom herd towards the moon, the ground took the form of an open grassland. I could even feel the grass tickle my belly as I ran.
After what felt like both an instant and eternity, I came before what was clearly the Lunar Throne – ebony and silver, with a massive upturned crescent Moon at the top, the dream-moon seeming to rest within it – and Princess Luna herself sat regally upon it. Instinctively, I fell to my knees.
“Rise, child.” Her voice was soft, sympathetic, warm. I shakily stood, still in awe. “Thou have been grievously wronged, and we offer thee our deepest sorrow and regret that we could not prevent it. Thankfully, thou shall be among the last – we have sent one of our greatest champions to stop those responsible; she should arrive shortly after thou wake, by no more than an hour.”
“Glad to hear he'll be stopped, but what about me? Will I be able to go back to being male?”
In response to my question, the Princess of the Night stood up, came alongside me, and draped a massive wing over my back. “Yes, but it might be some time before a remedy will be available. There are logistical concerns, as well as a waiting list. Thou are far from unique in thy plight, although most of the others were transformed by the P.E.R.”
“Specifically the Daughters of Epona splinter group.” I blurted out, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, my … father, for lack of a better word, is with the H.L.F., and before he disowned me, I overheard a lot.”
“I see … unfortunately, our time here is ending, though I will visit thee again in thy dreams, as well as ensure that somepony helps thee in thy waking hours, and follows up on your ties. Farewell.”
* * *
I awoke to the sounds of the entire tent full of newfoals beginning to stir. I was mildly surprised that none were overtly distraught, and more surprised that I was taking things in stride as well as I was. Heck, I felt better that I could ever remember feeling. I opened my eyes, and saw only the plastic tent floor, and beyond it, Jim. He turned out a Pegasus, midnight blue – maybe half a shade lighter than Princess Luna – with a golden yellow mane and tail. He still seemed to be asleep, or just starting to wake. I moved to a sort-of sitting position without really thinking about it, and turned to look in the mirror. Survey says … Unicorn. The filly staring back at me was ice blue, with a horn poking out of her mid-length raspberry-colored mane. And her eyes – my eyes – were purple! Like full-on plum! And positively huge! No wonder everything seemed clearer and more vivid. And my hearing was sharper, too … I could hear Jim stirring behind me. I turned to welcome him back into the land of the living.
“Lukas? You're … pretty?” Pretty? The word sounded alien when applied to me. Before, I might've punched someone for it, but I couldn't find the anger. Must've gone the same place my fists did.
“Please don't call me that … it makes me feel odd.” Not '”Like a freak?” Just “Odd?” Stars, my emotions were all over the place. Wait, did I think “Stars” instead of a proper swear word? Fffffffuuuuudge brownies! Sugar honey iced tea! Great … couldn't really swear, or summon any real anger. What was I becoming? Wait, Jim had said something. “Sorry, I missed that … I was distracted.”
“I just said 'OK'.” He seemed kinda distant too, taking in his new form. “Hmm, I think I look like a 'Comet' … don't you think? Midnight Comet … I like the sound of that!”
“Hmmm, it fits, even if the 'Midnight' part sounds kinda girly.” No clue why that notion came to mind, other than to get him back for calling me pretty.
“Maybe … might want to ask somepony who'd know if there's any such connotations in Equish.” Not a bad idea, actually … I might want to ask someone myself, before I made anything final. “The 'Comet 'part fits, though … call me that for now.”
That particular conversation, however, would have to wait, as an orange-and-yellow blur of an Earth Pony bounced up. “Hiya, how're you liking your new bodies? Mine's super spiffy! I wanted to be cute, and I sure am … you blokes have any good ideas about names? The one I was thinking about doesn't really fit … I mean, I totally don't look like a 'Sugarplum'.”
“Maybe Cheezy Poof” I blurted. Looks like I could snark after all, even if it was subtle.
“Not quite, though the 'cheese' bit feels right … lessee … Cheddar? That sounds right! Thanks, cute stuff!” She punctuated that with a kiss on the cheek. And that's when I recognized the ditz's Aussie accent.
“Wait, aren't you the joker who 'volunteered as tribute'?”
“Yep … I wanted to be a mare, and thought that was a funny way to make sure I would.” What kind of person thinks that turning a life-altering request into a joke was a good idea!? Oh wait, the answer was in front of me, grinning like an idiot. “Huh? Was it?”
“The reference was obscure, and your timing was rather poor.” Comet rolled his eyes as he replied, deadpan.
“Obscure, I'll show you obscure … “ Cheddar's retort stopped short as Windbag told us to move on to the mess tent for or First Meal.
Or at least Comet and Cheddar rose. I tried to concentrate on everything I needed to do, and promptly fell on my rear. “Gummi donut!” Where did that one come from!? It didn't even make any sense.
“Don't think too hard about it, cute stuff.” That nickname was really getting on my nerves, but before I could fire off a zinger, Comet interjected.
“It's called the Centipede's Dilemma, but Cheddar's right on this one.”
“Do or do not, there is no try!” The Cheezy Poof actually did a halfway decent Yoda impression.
Taking their advice, I stood up and started hoofing it to the door. “You dorks coming?” They followed, Comet straightening his pendant. I guess Cheddar helped him get it on.
Windsong met us outside the tent, her visage dark. It improved slightly when she saw us. Like she'd promised, we recognized her by her pendant – she was a Pegasus like her brother, sage green with a teal mane. “I heard what they did, and I intend to get some answers.” She embraced her brother, “I'm glad you came through it intact, though. You've been through enough, we both have.”
“Yes, though Lukas didn't. He got the Red Stuff.” And with that, Comet gestured towards me.
Windsong stared, open-mouthed for several seconds. “Lukas? It sure did a number on you!” Wait! What did she mean by that? Before I could dwell on it too long, she continued, “After First Meal, I’m going to see if I can make a stink. No one should have that done to them against their will.”
“Don’t bother … it’s being handled.” Their puzzled stares quickly persuaded me to elaborate. “I spoke to Princess Luna in my conversion dream, she said that ‘one of her greatest champions’ - her words, not mine - was already en route. Whoever it is won’t be able to get me fixed right away … “
“Hey, aren’t you already ‘fixed’ from the potion!?” Cheddar interrupted.
I shot her a glare and moved on. “Ignore the clown. Anyway, while nothing can be done about ‘Russell the One-Eyed Muscle’ right now, the assholes responsible are going to be in a world of trouble.” About time I managed to swear properly, instead of some dessert-themed substitution! Guess I had to actually be mad to use it. “And the mess tent looks like it’ll have the best odds of having a good view of that show, so let’s go. Besides, I’m ravenous!”
“Alright, I’m pretty hungry too. But we better have front row seats.” Was she angry over something involving me in particular, or on general principle? Logically, the latter made more sense - after all, she barely knew me - but she did seem to get more upset after she saw me. “So, who’s the third wheel you picked up?”
“This is Cheddar. She volunteered to walk on the filly side, and latched onto us after we woke up.” The cheezy poof made a rather satisfied “ta-da” and struck a ridiculous pose before falling over sideways. “And that’s what you get for showing off after having a body for fifteen minutes, no matter what instincts came with it.” Hmmm, came with the body? That might really explain some things, and I really should think on that. Think on it later, friends and food took priority now. Were they friends? Probably not yet, but they were the closest I had. I heard my name being called and brought myself out of my reverie. “Sorry, I was lost in thought again. What were you saying?”
“No worries, mate! Just asking if you thought one of us should snag a table, or if we should all just go through the line together.” We were at the mess tent already? Darn, I really was off my game.
“Oh, might as well go through it together. Doesn’t look like seating’ll be an issue.” I’d briefly scanned the mess tent, and it was maybe half full.
“We’re unanimous, then.” Windsong stated impatiently. “Let’s go, already!”
“I wonder what hay tastes like.” Cheddar mused with glee as we got into line. “Looks like I’m gonna be finding out!” In fact, it seemed likely that we all would - there were no less than three different varieties of it being served, though I couldn’t tell yet if the visible differences were due to the type of hay, how it was prepared, or both - and it seemed to be the main course.
The line moved fairly quickly, and it didn’t take long to get to the serving area. As we moved through it, I noticed hundreds of Ponies coming in behind us. “Looks like we really beat the rush. Glad we got here when we did!” That prompted a round of agreements. We each grabbed a tray - they were brightly colored plastic, and had a flattened mouth-handle. The cartoonized instructions next to the handle suggested that they’d been made for Newfoals - and possibly come from a Bureau before it closed.
“What can I get for ya?” The Unicorn staffing the hay portion of the line smiled in that overly friendly American style. Oddly, it didn’t bug me half as much as it used to.
“What’s good?” Dang, that came out sounding a lot more silly than I meant it to.
The Unicorn didn’t miss a beat. “All of it. You want to experience something more Equestrian, get something more familiar, or just go for simple?” She grinned at me, expectantly.
“I’ll go for the familiar. Dunno when I’ll get the chance again.” She used tongs held in her horn-field to put a good-sized dollop of hay into the biggest section of my tray. It’s smell reminded me of the herbs they put in the bread they used to serve at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant I used to eat at during the year we were in Naples, back before things got real bad, before my mom … no, not going there. Don’t need to dwell on that now. Apparently I’d muttered part of that, because Windsong asked me what I’d said. “Nothing important … just some old memories.” She didn’t push it, thankfully, instead focusing on getting her own lunch. Food was priority one now, it seemed. Some sort of stuffed bread roll made from millet flour, a couple fresh carrots, a glass of lemonade, and an apple (apparently, this was traditional) rounded out the meal, with a single-serving blackberry pie for dessert.
With lunch on our trays, we made our way to a table on the outskirts of the tent. Thankfully, we had the presence of mind to put our trays down before we tried to sit, because the benches proved to be too much for our new bodies’ autopilots, since we kept trying to sit on them biped-style instead of recline or sit in a doglike fashion. Still, nopony got hurt, and we had a good laugh, so it all worked out OK in the end. No-Pony? OK, now I knew something got stuck in my head, and I was going to bring it up. “I think those dreams pushed our bodies’ autopilots into us, along with at least some of the Pony Collective Unconscious.” With that, I bit into the roll … not really my cup of tea, but edible. Could do without the mushrooms, though.
“Yeah, I think it did too … kinda like the whole Prothean Cipher bit from Mass Effect.” Windsong chimed in. Not a bad comparison, either.
“Which version? Most of them were subtly different - if they included it at all. I know the movie that came out a few years ago didn’t, and the fiftieth anniversary graphic novels treated it like a Rosetta Stone, and had Liara dig it up. Only the game remakes and the TV Show from the forties really did the original game justice on that one.” Stars, Comet was really going all-out on this. At least until Cheddar had to ruin it.
“The show!? The blokes behind it must have been smoking something! They just ‘bout wrecked the whole bloomin’ franchise!” You did NOT just go there, Cheddar! I ate a mouthful of hay to stop myself from starting something with the Cheezy Poof. Sweet Celestia, it was amazing! Perfectly crisp and savory, and seasoned with garlic and thyme to boot. I must have let out a moan, because everyone immediately looked at me. “I think she creamed herself.” I’m so going to get you back for that one, Cheddar.
“First, despite how I look, I’m not a ‘she’ … second, the hay is really good.” Hell, “really good” was an understatement.
“Not everypony is as desperate to throw their masculinity in the trash, Cheddar!” Comet practically growled that, he and Windsong double-teaming the orange mare with their nastiest glares, which looked a little freaky on them. Angry Ponies weren’t usually something you saw up close. Or much at all.
Cheddar wisely chose to drop it with a quick “OK” before digging into her hay. “Oh … this is really good. It’s like an orgasm in my mouth!” That prompted laughter all around. While we ate, we compared backstories - Cheddar was from Hobart, in Tasmania, and had run away from her controlling parents who were doing their best to stop her from transitioning. She was also fifteen - having lied about her age - and immediately stopped flirting with me when she found out I was only thirteen.
“Aren’t you bothered about lying to the people running the camp?” Windsong asked, in between bites of a carrot.
“A bit - I don’t like doing it, but I had to get out of there. And yeah, they will catch on, but not before I get to Equestria. And what’re they gonna do then? Ship me back to a bunch of idiots praying for God to save them? If prayer was going to do anything, it’d have done it years ago. So either there’s no one out there listening, or they’re onboard with this.”
“If there was a god out there, Equestria would have come at the beginning of the century, before things really went to sugar.” Back to dessert swearing again? Guess I couldn’t summon the anger to swear over stuff that happened before my parents were born.
“Honestly, we’ve been needing it for far longer than that, Lukas. Or at least someone to come and put a stop to all the horseapples that rich white men did to pretty much everyone else.” Windsong’s eyes blazed as she spoke. “And if you’d have given any other segment of Humanity that kind of power, they’d have abused it just as much.”
“Not necessarily.” Comet retorted. I got the feeling this was something of a recurring debate between them. Sure enough, they proceeded into a heated debate - there wasn’t anywhere near the vitriol to call it an argument - that I half-followed while polishing off my pie. After which, I felt vaguely naughty, noticing that I hadn’t eaten my apple.
As I contemplated it - still somewhat hungry, but no longer ravenous - I remembered that I was a Unicorn, and had telekinesis, at least in theory. And the apple would make for a convenient first attempt. And the others deserved a warning, just in case. “Hey everypony, watch out, I’m going to try to use magic on my apple.”
Cheddar and Windsong immediately backed away from the perceived line of fire. “Use the Force, Luke!”
I rolled my eyes. “Real original. Just had to go there, didn’t you, Cheddar.” There was no vitriol, just exasperation in response to a friendly tease. I closed my eyes, and began picturing the apple on the tray. I could sorta see it and sort of feel it with the same sense. It’s kinda hard to describe. I reached out for it, and could feel its texture, could feel every bump on the skin, the dimple where the stem met the apple proper, everything. As gently as I could, I lifted, doing my best to keep it in my grip. Once I got it a good fifteen centimeters or so clear of the table, I drew it to me just as gently. Opening my eyes, I saw it floating in front of my face, a purple glow around it, matching the one bleeding into my field of view from my forehead. I’d done it! Now to claim my prize! I grabbed at the apple, snagging it in my teeth just as the field winked out. A bit of contented fatigue set in - which made sense in hindsight, considering I’d just used my horn for the first time, and I’d only had it for maybe half an hour.
I moved to hold the apple between my hooves, and took a massive bite out of it. Oh sweet stars, I’d never tasted anything more perfect! I mean, the rest of the meal was amazing, but not even the pie was like this. I know I moaned more than a little. It was just that good. A massive wave of applause (Pony style, with hoof stomping instead of clapping), complete with a few whistles brought me back to my senses. What was that about? Oh no … they thought I was up to something sexual, didn’t they?
“Apparently, that was quite the display of magic, Lukas,” Comet explained. “Way to go!” So that wasn’t about me moaning like I was having smoking hot sex? “According to the workers, even with all the assistance in the newest versions of the potion, only about one in five Newfoal Unicorns successfully use magic on their first attempt.” I acknowledged the crowd with a jaunty salute and went back to my apple, making sure I didn’t lose myself in it completely again, noticing my companions going after theirs with similar results. As the commotion died down, I watched just about every Unicorn in the room try to use magic for themselves, with only a few succeeding, though a good deal of them got it after a few tries. Each success made me smile a little more inside, which was one more surprise in a day full of them. I used to wish others would fail, thinking there was only so much success in the world to go around, and that every failure someone else suffered somehow made my own odds better.
An odd noise brought me out of that bit of introspection. It was like a jet plane chasing an enormous flock of geese. I looked up, and realized it was a Pegashuttle, a glider pulled by Pegasi in space suits, to travel between what’s left of Earth and the Equestrian heartland. This one was massive - there were dozens of Pegasi pulling it in an arrowhead formation, and the craft itself was significantly larger than an airliner. As it got closer, I recognized it from the news - it was the Rainboom , Ambassador Rainbow Dash’s craft. Painted in Wonderbolts colors, with feathers on it’s swept wings, it was a graceful ship, as well as a well-known one (Only Princess Celestia’s Lightbringer was more famous). “And here comes the champion Princess Luna told me about.”
“Good … wait, that’s the Rainboom ! You didn’t say we were getting a freaking ambassador! ” Windsong was trying not to hyperventilate, and mostly failing.
“She didn’t say who was coming either!” I protested, as the Pegashuttle made it’s final approach. “And remember she is one of the more prominent troubleshooters.”
“Not to mention that Worldgov agents using red potion as indiscriminately as the P.E.R. warrants some serious crackdown.” Windsong certainly had a point there. Still, I didn’t get why she was the angriest of the bunch.
Back at the shuttle, the lead Pegasus detached themselves from the group, and flew over to the camp. They exchanged some angry words in Equish with a blue-and-tan Unicorn who was apparently in charge of managing that approach, before they removed their helmet, revealing the face of the ambassador herself! The Unicorn just about jumped out of his skin before escorting her into the camp. He then spoke into his mic, which was apparently patched into the camp’s ancient loudspeaker system. “Faisal, you have a VIP from Equestria to see you, STAT!” Apparently, Windbag’s name was Faisal, because he came running out of one of the tents, skidding to a halt before the duo.
Managing a jaunty salute, he put on what was probably his best innocent face. “What can I do for you?”
“Can it! I’ve heard that you’ve been forcing red potion on refugee boys. What do you have to say about it?” Cue Rainbow Dash becoming angry Pegasus number three. Can’t say I blame her. While I was coping OK for the time being, I didn’t expect it to last; and even if I weren’t one of the ones changed, Windbag was a shithead who hurt people. He’d better have a better reason for it than the horsefeathers he offered us.
“I’ve been trying not to disrupt your culture, you ungrateful, sanctimonious ass!” Wrong answer! I don’t think anyone bought it, especially not the ambassador.
“Our culture !? What about the people whose lives you’re disrupting? What about their pain? If you really want to respect our culture, you could try to learn a thing or two from our virtues. Such as ‘don’t ask anyone to do something you aren’t willing to do yourself!’” Rainbow Dash had been angry before, now she was furious . I don’t think I’d ever seen a Pony that mad … stars, the only Human I’d ever seen that angry was the Old Rat, and even then, that took some doing.
“They’ll get over it. They’re being reborn in light.” Wait a sec … “Reborn in light?” That was something that the P.E.R. said, or at least some of them. Did that mean this guy had P.E.R. ties?
“Reborn in light? Interesting.” The ambassador’s face broke out in a wolfish grin - kinda disturbing on a sentient herbivore, if you ask me, and her tone dropped from volcanic to glacial. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you back with me, to answer to the Princesses in person, so you’re going to have to make the change. Only question is which version of the potion you be taking? Grape or cherry?”
“Cherry. Gladly.” His expression shifted into a mix of defiance and … longing? Windbag - Faisal - made zero sense to me. Wait, maybe he was like Cheddar, only with more of a dislike for masculinity due to years of pain.
“Interesting.” She turned to address the Unicorn. “Steadfast, could you make sure he gets it, please?”
“Will do.” Steadfast replied, before muttering something I couldn’t make out into his mic.
“What’s going to happen to me after I get there?” All the wind seemed to have gone out of his sails, all his bluster gone, I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
“That is entirely up to the Princesses.” The blue mare’s face was as icy as her voice.
Another Unicorn - a pinkish mare - showed up, carrying a flask with a dose of potion in it. She brought it to Faisal, who took it, thanking her. “Time for me to be reborn in light. Bottoms up!” He toasted Rainbow Dash with the flask like it was a glass of wine, then downed it. That done, he sank bonelessly onto the ground.
The Pegasus apparently didn’t know what to make of him anymore than we did, and shook her head as she helped the Unicorns get his clothes off. That done, she turned to Steadfast, asking “Any idea about how he slipped past your safeguards?”
“Not sure, honestly. We’re going to have to look into that. If I were to guess, he used a faked or stolen identity.” He shook his head. “Make sure you ask him that. I’d like to know what he has to say about that, along with a lot of other things.”
“Alright … I’ll keep you informed. Meanwhile, we should get the refugees onboard. Don’t worry, I can keep an eye on Faisal while you handle it.”
Steadfast nodded to her and spoke into the PA system again. “All Newfoal refugees bound for Equestria, please assemble at the western gate. I repeat, all Newfoal refugees bound for Equestria, please assemble at the western gate.”
“That’s our cue.” Comet said absentmindedly. We made our way out, careful to place our trays in the return receptacle on our way out. The crowd was staggering - there were hundreds of Ponies leaving Earth behind forever. And most were younger than us - some looked like they were only three or four, and adolescents were fairly rare, and maybe half a dozen who could even pass for adults in the whole lot. Off the cuff, I’d say the average age was about eight or nine. Many of them had old eyes, though - bled through with uncertainty, sorrow, pain, and fear. How I wanted to go comfort them all, tell them that they were going somewhere safe and sound, somewhere they’d all have their tears dried. That urge was certainly a new one, but one I kinda liked. Still, it wasn’t a practical one to indulge at the moment, so I limited myself to little acts of encouragement as we moved through the camp, and noticed my companions doing similar things.
Once we cleared the gate and could see the shuttle again, the general mood improved immensely. I saw Ponies unloading crates from it, and piling them near the perimeter. It seemed very likely that the food we’d just eaten had come in similar crates, along with the Potion that transformed us, though that almost certainly was brought in immediately.
“When are they going to let us on?” A colt of perhaps five asked, scared and confused.
“In a few minutes. They’re still unloading, and they might have to get some things ready for us.” I did my best to be strong, though my own frustration was beginning to rise. Why had Rainbow Dash given the word this early? Was it to give stragglers extra time? Or did she simply miscalculate? As I watched, I saw the stream of cargo halt, My “See, it won’t be long.” was met with a simple “OK.”
A few minutes later, somepony announced that we were clear to begin boarding, but that we shouldn’t go into the wing seating until the main areas were at least mostly full, and start near the aisles and work our way out. Wing seating? Was the shuttle really that big? And honestly, that sounded like fun.
Windsong took the words out of my mouth. “Want to see if we can sit in one of the wings?” A chorus of approval resounded.
“Sounds like it’d almost be like an amusement park ride.” Comet quipped.
“Bloomin’ awesome!”
“I was just thinking that myself.” I added.
“Alright … I think we’re far enough back that we should get a good shot at it,” Most of our time before boarding was spent looking after the colt and fillies (We’d picked up a group of five, the colt from earlier - a Unicorn named Shadow, his Pegasus sister Thistledown, two Earth Pony fillies called Blackberry and Lemongrass, and a slightly older Unicorn filly who hadn’t decided on a Pony name yet, and was still going by Sammy) in line, impatience and excitement on top of their previous apprehension made things volatile, resulting in a good bit of … well … horseplay. Shoving, headbutting, tail-swatting, jockeying for position - some people just have to be first - that kind of thing. Nothing actually aggressive or mean-spirited, but still rough enough that somepony could get hurt by accident. Kids will be kids, I guess, regardless of species.
Still, we got there without any serious incidents, though I sincerely hoped there were adult attendants on the shuttle who could take over. They certainly had Ponies checking us in, using actual pens and what looked to be carbon paper. Nothing surprising, honestly - there was no secret that WorldGov tracked us up to the Barrier, at which point Equestria took over; and the Barrier itself fried even electronics hardened against the damage done by ambient magic - nothing more complex than a mid-20th century two-way radio could make it through intact, and even then it wasn’t exactly good for the device.
The shuttle itself - and it felt weird calling anything this big a “shuttle” - was pretty nice inside, which is about what you’d expect on for diplomatic ship, even if it wasn’t being used that way. Thankfully there were attendants - though only around twenty or so for the entire ship, so we were still quasi-deputized - who told us we could go sit in the port wing, and told us where the maps and the bathrooms were. We actually had to go up half a level to get into the wing, and there was a whole second deck above the one we came in on. The seats were more like couches for us to recline on, angled in nested V-shaped arcs facing forward, with an aisle in between. Each had several harnesses to keep us from sliding around, and between them were low, cushioned barriers. Once I figured my own out - they were deceptively simple - I handled my companions’, and the harnesses for the foals we were babysitting too. On the whole, the only thing lacking was a window, which was rather disappointing.
Of course, it was just my luck that I’d just gotten Blackberry buckled up when she wanted out. “Miss Frost?” Somehow, somepony started calling me that, and it stuck with the younger crowd. The “Miss” part got old real quick, but I suppose I could live with “Frost”. “I have to go potty.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before I strapped you in?”
“I just realized it now.” Of course she did … this was going to be a long trip.
“Do you think you’ll be OK going by yourself?” I really hoped she would be - she was one of the older ones of the bunch, and I really didn’t want to unbuckle anypony else. Then again, she’d only been a Pony for a little while, and hadn’t told me if she’d been a girl to begin with, or a boy who got cherried.
“Yeah”
“Actually, I’d like to go with you,” Windsong volunteered.
“Thanks,” I replied as I unbuckled them both. Once they’d departed, it was back to the usual. “Miss Frost, Shadow said a bad word! -- Did not! -- Thistledown hit me with her tail! -- It was on accident. -- Quit burping at me! -- Stop copying me, Sammy! -- Frost and Comet sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G. … “
“That’s enough!” The shout came from Comet, the Pony I expected it from the least. “Bad enough you argue with each other like that, but you don’t bring other people into your drama. Next one of you to be rude will be put in time-out until we lift off.”
I decided to redirect them a bit. “How about we play a game?”
“What game?” All of them asked that in unison, with Thistledown adding “And what do we win?”
“Does everypony here know how to play Twenty Questions?” Thankfully, they did. We played until they started the liftoff countdown, with Windsong and Blackberry coming in when they got back.
“”Attention everypony, we will be departing in one minute. For your safety, please stay in your acceleration couches until we clear the Barrier. If you’re having trouble with your safety harness, please ask one of our attendants for help.” The stallion on the PA system spoke calmly, which seemed to reassure many of the passengers.
“I’m going to miss Earth,” Windsong remarked. “For all it’s problems, it was home.” Most of the group agreed.
“Not me.” Lemongrass frowned. “Nobody there wanted me.” Poor kid.
“I know the feeling, myself.” I added, wishing I could get up and hug her. “My family treated me like dirt.”
“Thirty seconds to liftoff”.
“Sorry to hear that.” Windsong reached out with a wing, brushing her feathers up against me from across the aisle. I really didn’t know what to make of the look she gave me. It was wistful, along with something else.
“Really sorry to hear that, Miss Frost. Hope that whoever you go to live with in Equestria is as nice as you are.” Shadow stretched his neck towards me in an attempt to nuzzle me or something, and barely succeeded in touching my foreleg with his horn.
“Thanks, though to be honest, I wasn’t very nice as a human.” That kinda caught me by surprise, though it certainly was true.
“Fifteen seconds.”
“At least you got better.”
“Thanks, Sammy.”
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, liftoff! We have liftoff!”
As we lifted off, Cheddar began to sing a sad and mournful song, a familiar one for many of us that we all couldn’t help but listen to. She poured emotion into every ancient verse, sorrow for the passing of an age, of a world.
O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.
O bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.
O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.
All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying, "Where shall we shelter or where shall we sleep?"
For the Oak and the Ash, they are all cutten down
And the walls of bonny Portmore are all down to the ground.
O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore.
“That was beautiful, Cheddar.” Comet’s voice was thick with emotion, as was his sister’s echo. “Why did you decide to sing that?”
“Well, when I was a tyke, about your age, or a little older” She glanced towards the foals as she said that, “My family was leaving Hobart, and I was pretty down about it. So my mum sang that as we were getting on the plane to help me work through my feelings. Hope I did OK with it. Not used to singing alto.”
“You did great.” Windsong smiled at the normally hyper Earth Pony. “Not perfect, mind you, but that’s a matter of practice. You have a beautiful singing voice, and it’d be a shame if you didn’t.”
“Alright … I’d like to hear you sing something, if you don’t mind.” Cheddar winked at her.
“As you wish.” And she sang a song I wasn’t familiar with, and I lost myself in the lyrics, daydreaming of warm summer evenings around a campfire, laughing with friends.
“Now it’s your turn, Miss Frost.” Thistledown practically begged.
“I don’t know … “ I blew my mane out of my vision as dramatically as I could, only for it to float right back. Weightlessness was … annoying.
“You can do it! -- C’mon, Lukas. -- Pleeeeease?”
“Oh, alright. But only if you drop the ‘Miss’ and only call me ‘Frost’.”
“Okay! -- Sure thing, Miss Frost, I mean Frost.”
So I sang a Japanese lullaby my mother taught me. It was the only song I knew that wasn’t some H.L.F. propaganda piece, and I don’t think I did very good with it - I hadn’t spoken the language since she’d died, and it kinda showed, as did my apprehension.
“Whoa, that was out of this world.” Really, Cheddar? We’re effectively in orbit, and that’s the best you can do. “I mean, I caught maybe one word in three, but that was really something.” That made me blush.
Of course, Windsong had to go and make it brighter. “That was beautiful. You’ll have to teach me that some day, along with what it means.”
“Sure, once life settles down.” Which I didn’t expect to happen any day soon. “So, who’s next? Comet?”
“No, why don’t we see how well the kids do?”
“Okay! I want to go first! -- No, I want to! -- No fair, I called dibs!”
Guess it was time for somepony to intervene. “Okay, I’m thinking of a number between one and ten. Whoever’s closest gets to go first.”
“Three -- Seven -- Five -- Four -- One”
“Sammy was closest, I was thinking of eight. She goes first, followed by Blackberry, Thistledown, Lemongrass, and Shadow goes last.” That was met by an “Oh poo!” “Don’t be sad. That just means you’ll have a chance to bring down the house.”
It was then I’d noticed that we’d crossed the Barrier at some point without noticing, and had gravity again. Figures. Only trip I’ll ever have into outer space, and I spend it all keeping a bunch of grade schoolers entertained.
And speaking of grade schoolers, Sammy finally started to sing, an absurd and goofy parody of “Joy to the World” about a bug named “Bob”, of all things. We all laughed at it. Not just our group, either. It spread through much of the ship. Ponies asked her to sing it again, louder, so she did, just eating up the attention. The resulting laughter and applause vibrated the deck. And from there, our impromptu concert grew … the rest of our group of foals sang, and then other Ponies did their own routines, aided by the shuttle’s rather good acoustics.
It was nearly an hour later when we landed, and we were still passing songs around as we disembarked. It ended with one of the attendants sharing a traditional Equish traveling song that apparently dated back over six thousand years. It was sad, but hopeful, a song about leaving one home and searching for another. Or at least that’s how she described it, I only knew a few words of Equish.
The weather on this side caught us off guard - it’d been unseasonably warm for April in Johannesburg, but here it was downright chilly, in the upper single digits centigrade. Thankfully, we weren’t too uncomfortable, due largely to our new coats of fur.
Once we’d disembarked, the attendants kept us together for a brief announcement. Rainbow Dash, still in her space suit sans helmet, hovered in front of us as she addressed our crowd. “First, I want you to give yourselves a huge round of applause for that concert. That was just awesome!” Everypony cheered and stamped the ground - well, those of us who weren’t blushing furiously.. “Second, I wanted to let you know that I pulled a couple of strings, and you’re all going to Ponyville!” Wait, Ponyville? Not one of the villages scattered like stars across what Ponies were already calling the “Near Exponentials” - the parts of the Exponential Lands that were settled and in contact with the Heartlands - but the Heart of the Heartlands itself, the quintessential Equestrian town, on the doorstep of Canterlot! “And before I let you go, I just want to remind you that you need to check in at the welcome building,” she gestured towards it with a forehoof, “After that, you’ve got the rest of the day to yourselves, and will head out in the morning. Now, go have fun!”
Author's Note
First, there's times near the end where I have clusters of dialogue in one set of quotes separated by double dashes (--) ... this was suggested by a style manual I found to show overlapping dialogue. It's meant to be somewhat cacophonous. If it's confusing for you, I can try something else.
Also, for those who aren't already familiar with it, the song is Bonny Portmore, an old Irish folk song. For the curious, here is a Wikipedia article about it, and here is a beautifully sung rendition by famed Celtic singer Loreena McKennitt.
Third, the new coverart is more or less what Lukas looks like as a Pony. Ignore the background, I made it in Ponymaker, and their selection is crap.
The Conversion Bureau: Tale of a Reluctant Newfoal
As we drifted in a ragged line towards the welcome building - a cheery wooden hall whose outer walls were covered in bright murals - it occurred to me that I needed more of a name than just “Frost”. But what? And should the “Frost” part come first or last? Sugar, I wish I could just go on the net and look something up. Then again, I spent too much time on there as a Human, and I’d rather not fall into old traps. That said, waiting for more knowledge would be good - no sense in accidentally getting stuck with something perverted, or even really girly.
“Frost?” Sammy asked tentatively, disrupting my reverie. The others were ahead of us in line, walking pairs, and - in Comet, Shadow, and Thistledown’s case - a trio. Always one of us teens watching over a foal or two. “I think I have a new name.” Interesting parallel … guess names were on a lot of our minds. “What do you think of Starry Sea?”
Whimsical and girly, it really fit her. It also matched her looks quite well too … dark teal with a two-tone sea-green and blue-grey mane and tail, and silver eyes. “I like it … it really suits you.”
“Thanks.” She smiled broadly with a far-away look for a moment, then it suddenly fell. “Sorry about calling you ‘Miss’ … I didn’t realize you got turned into a girl when you got turned into a Pony. I don’t know what I’d do if I got turned into a boy!” She grimaced as she said “a boy”, apparently thinking boys were gross. Can’t say I blame her, really; too many of the guys I’d went to school with did utterly disgusting things for kicks.
“Apology accepted. And just so you know, what makes somepony a colt or a filly, or even something else entirely, isn’t what’s on the outside.” I tapped my head with a forehoof, “It’s about what’s up here.”
“So what are you?” Starry Sea’s face shone with unbridled curiosity.
Good question. As a Human, I was just … there, really. Going through the motions without being invested in anything. And now, life kept throwing me curveballs, and I haven’t had time for anything to really hit me. “I honestly don’t know right now … never really seemed to have strong feelings either way. And with all that’s happened, I have a good bit of thinking to do. When I do figure myself out, I’ll let you know. “
“I see …” The way she trailed off suggested that she’d never really considered the matter before.
“You’d have gotten all that in a couple years, if it weren’t for the whole ‘End of the world’ thing. It was actually one of the reasons my … my father pulled me out of school.” Yeah, I really didn’t feel right calling the Old Rat that, but I wasn’t going to go into all that with a nine-year-old.
“And what were the others?” She just had to ask that, didn’t she? Oh well, it’s not like I could blame her for being curious.
I sighed deeply. “Ponies. With him being HLF and all, he didn’t want me learning Equish or associating with Newfoals.”
“He sounds like he was a real butthead!”
“He still is.” She looked at me in shock. Guess she assumed I was an orphan. “At least he was when he disowned me this morning.” This morning? Yeah, I guess it was … it’s hard to think it’d only been a few hours. It felt like it was months ago. In a way, it was a whole other life. Lukas was dead now, only Frost remained. Stars, that was a bombshell!
“Sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you’re out of there.” She smiled sadly.
“Me too” I muttered as we entered the building. I had expected a fairly utilitarian - if homey - room to greet us, but this looked like it was decked out for a perpetual birthday party. Yellow, pink, and blue streamers hung from the ceiling, and they looked like they were actual cloth instead of paper, the materials for a number of traditional party games were strewn about - in a manner that suggested that they were primarily, but not exclusively, decoration - and some festive Equish tune I didn’t recognize poured forth from an ancient-looking turntable. And to top it all off, there was a huge banner above the set of teller-style windows on the far side of the room, reading “Welcome to Equestria”, in all capital letters, each letter a different color from the next, following a pattern of red, yellow, green, cyan, pink, and ending at purple before restarting at red again. Below that was a sign-board with a list of towns that the refugees coming through here were going to. Appleoosa, Wingingberg, Shangri-La, New Hope, Arcadia, Oz, Bountiful, Ponyville!!! :-) (yes, the multiple exclamation points and emoji were actually in the sign, and it looked like it had been hastily placed), and Green River were all listed as destinations.
“Sun and Moon!” Starry Sea gasped, taking in the sight. Her eyes widened, and I could almost see rainbows in them.
“Looks like they really went all-out!” I was certainly impressed, especially since Ponies had probably spent years perfecting what I saw before me.
“Of course we did, silly filly! We wouldn’t want to welcome you with anything short of our very bestest!” I had to restrain myself from jumping at the sudden voice coming from where nopony had been only a moment before, and from a Pony that had just been talking with Comet’s trio moments before, three meters from where she was now. Starry Sea did jump - sideways, into me, almost knocking us both off our hooves. “Sorry to have startled you. I’m ambassador Pinkie Pie, and I wanted to personally welcome you to Equestria. What’re your names?”
“Starry Sea.” She gave her best attempt at a curtsy, and barely managed to avoid falling on her flanks.
“Call me Frost … I’m still trying to think of the rest of my name.”
“Pleased to meet you both, I hope to see you both around Ponyville. Dashie told me that your group was joining us there.” Us? That’s right, the Ambassadors of Harmony live there. It’s a hard thing to remember when they seem to spend their time ensuring that Earthlings - Human and Newfoal alike - got our needs met in any number of ways. Then again, most of Equestria was apparently mobilized to deal with the ongoing crisis. “In the meantime, have fun while you’re in Welcome Town, we have all sorts of games and yummy foods for you tonight. We even have funnel cake! It’s this yummy food from Earth that’s pancake batter drizzled through a funnel and deep fried and covered in powdered sugar like a donut and … “
I hated to cut her off - being an ambassador and all - but I was beginning to worry that she’d keep rambling about food for goodness knows how long. And besides, she was also the Pony who pranked the fudging King of England less than ten minutes after meeting him; I doubt she’d be offended by my breach in etiquette. “I’m familiar with it, actually. My grandmother used to make something very similar called ‘Strieble’ .”
“Oooohhhhh! You’ll have to show me how to make it some day, if you can!” Oh boy, I think mentioning that just made it worse.
“I’m not sure I can.” I admitted. Pinkie’s frown in response made my own heart ache, but I honestly wasn’t sure if I could. “My grandmother passed on shortly before Equestria showed up, and my father didn’t get any of her old recipes. I doubt it’s too different from what you have, though I vaguely remember hers having cinnamon in the batter and then covered in cinnamon mixed with powdered sugar.” That part I remembered fairly clearly, though I think it might have just been her recipe, not the dish as a whole.
“Stop it, you’re making me hungry again, and I just had a big lunch a few hours ago.” Starry Sea licked her lips, blushing self-consciously.
“Oooh, I’ll have to let Sourdough know about that one later! In the meantime, I have new Ponies to greet. See-you-later-bye!” The last sentence burst out in one breath, and then she zoomed up to Cheddar faster than my eyes could track - if she’d been a Unicorn, I’d have sworn she’d teleported. The two of them then began talking excitedly faster than I could make out, while Lemongrass tried her best to stay out of their way.
“Few hours? What time were you converted?” I knew there were a lot more Ponies on the shuttle than there had been at lunch, so she must’ve been Ponified earlier in the day.
“Noon. And it’s about 4:00-ish from our perspective, so that’s not too bad now that I think about it.” It was on the low side of normal, believable for somepony going through a growth spurt or something. Come to think of it, us Newfoals seemed a bit skinny.
“Don’t worry about it too much; if you’re hungry, eat. If you’re really worried, there’s probably somepony you could ask about it.” There had to be at least a nurse somewhere in the loop, if not a full-on doctor. If I had to get a physical in order to move from Naples to Cairo, and another when I moved to Johannesburg, I had to get something to move to another freaking world, even if Ponification dealt with anything even remotely dangerous I might have had, they’d probably want some basic vital statistics.
“There will be a check-up from a doctor. I saw a Unicorn with a medical-looking cutie mark take somepony into one of those curtained rooms just before you got inside.” Windsong called back (is she telepathic or something, or just good at listening?), gesturing to a series of small rooms - more like alcoves, really - sectioned off by light green hospital-style curtains. “You can ask them when it’s your turn”
“I will, and I’ll think about any other questions I should ask while I’m back there. I guess we all should.” Clever filly! I had more than a few questions of my own. And yep, I totally called it.
“Yeah, we probably should,” I echoed. I turned my head to let Cheddar and Lemongrass know, and saw that Cheddar and Pinkie Pie were still talking. Guess I needed to go with Plan B. “Hey Lemongrass? Just so you know, Windsong told me that we’ll be having doctor’s visits. Also, could you let Cheddar know?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” She saluted confidently as she replied.
A companionable silence settled over our group as we thought about our most pressing medical questions as the line flowed forward. For me, there were a few obvious questions involving the whole cherry potion thing, along with some more general myth-busting. Of course, most of the rumors I’d heard involved sex - chalk it up to human nature, I guess. Or sentient nature in general - going Pony hadn’t robbed sex of it’s mystique; at least not yet. I’d heard that Ponies were fairly casual about it, but no two rumors agreed on how casual. While I thought, I watched Ponies coming and going from the exam rooms, always going from the check-in windows to the waiting area, getting the exam, and then out the door opposite the one we came in, to Welcome Town proper.
It didn’t take that long for my thoughts to drift to other things … big philosophical questions, mostly. Who am I? Am I the same person I was this morning? I remembered the same things, to be sure - starting with the move from Dresden to Hamburg when I was three - and I could trace all of the changes if I thought about it. On the other hand, I’d changed so much in the past couple hours … it was almost … yes, like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. And the changes? Well, so far, I liked more of them than I didn’t, and the exceptions were mostly related to that fudging cherry potion. It was kinda funny that I was going by Frost now, since I’d been so cold and prickly as Lukas; winding up with a new name so icy just as my heart melted. Wait, melting? That’s it! “Melting Frost!” I mused aloud, receiving several confused stares in return. “My new name is Melting Frost.” That prompted cheers and congratulations not just from my friends, but from several other Ponies. I thanked them, blushing.
“It really fits you.” Windsong smiled back at me, then realized that she was next in line, and somepony at a window was calling for her. “Crap, I’m up. Catch you after I check in!” she blurted before dashing off.
I didn’t have much longer to wait, myself - a minute or so after Windsong got called up, two windows opened nearly simultaneously; Starry Sea went to the nearer one, and I went to the farther one. The drab-looking Unicorn staffing it looked so young that I did a double-take. He looked barely older than me, still more colt than stallion. “Hello, my name’s Pinecone, and I’m here to check you in. What’s your name?” Between his thick Equish accent and his nervousness, I had a bit of a hard time understanding him, especially since he seemed to be reading from a script too fast.
“My human name was Lukas Gunter, but now I go by Melting Frost.” They’d given us options to declare a Pony name at every previous check-in, so I expected that there was an option here.
“Alright, just one moment … “ he trailed off before loudly exclaiming something in Equish that I’m pretty sure was the equivalent of “holy crap” or something, before switching back to his thickly accented English.. “Why is it the prettiest fillies I’ve ever seen were all colts who drank cherry? Know what? I don’t care - you’re still pretty filly.”
The only response I felt like dignifying that with was to put him on the spot. “Anything else you need from me for your paperwork, or are you just going to try and make passes at somepony who’s not interested?”
That got a response alright - Pinecone swiftly sported the most sheepish look I’d seen in years. “Sorry. Think that’s most of it, mean there’s normally a short questionnaire and a few other little things for your placement, but since they want you talk to Dream Tender after you see doctor, she can handle that. She’s with Lunar Guard, can’t miss her, especially since she’ll come get you. Sorry again. And think I got your new name right - Melting Frost?” I nodded, feeling kinda guilty that I’d rattled him as hard as I did. “Oh, good, you can change that extra special easy any time in the next year if you don’t like it. Sorry. You can move over to the waiting area, and doctor will see you in a few minutes. They call your number and you go in” And with that, he levitated a slip of paper with the number 409 on it in front of me. Once I grabbed it in own horn-field, he told me to have a nice day, then immediately began a conversation with somepony else in the back area, and whoever it was didn’t seem happy at all.
Making a hasty exit, I plopped myself on a cushion in the waiting area. I’d scarcely begun to brood when Comet sat down beside me. Didn’t say a word, he just pulled me into a wing-hug. I leaned into him, craving the reassuring contact only another Pony could provide. After a minute or three, I found my voice. “Thanks, I really needed that.”
“Glad I could help.” Again, we lapsed into comfortable silence. Soon, Windsong joined us, settling in on my other side, placing her wing over both me and Comet. Cheddar and the foals joined the cuddle-puddle a minute or so later, taking places around the edge. Unfortunately, my time basking in their warmth ended all too soon.
“Number 409?” The voice, with its hard-to-place accent (It seemed vaguely Slavic), came from an off-white Unicorn mare sporting a Red Cross cutie mark. Her golden eyes scanned the throng of refugee newfoals, looking for her charge.
“I’m here,” I replied from the Pony-Pile I’d found myself in. “Just give me half a minute.” As I extricated myself, I apologized to my companions. “I’ve got an interview with somepony named Dream Tender after this, if we don’t connect in between, where should I meet you?”
After the others stared for a few moments, the doctor offered a suggestion. “Why not meet up at the clock out there? It’s easy to find, and there should be an open table or three nearby.”
“Works for me.” Windsong said with a jaunty wing-salute; Comet just shrugged.
“Alright … If I don’t catch you in here, I’ll meet you there.”
After a quick round of “see-you-laters”, I followed the doctor into the exam room. “My name is Healing Light, you can call me that or Doctor Light. So, Frost is everything feeling OK beyond the obvious?”
“How did you know my name!?” Magic. It just had to be magic.
“Check-in sent me your file through the tubes.” She gestured to a slot on the wall that held a pneumatic cylinder of the same type that you still find at some older banks. Blast it, I was wrong on that one! “Are you experiencing any sort of aches, pains, discomfort or odd pressures?” As she asked, she picked up a clipboard and Human-style ballpoint pen in her horn-field, ready to take notes for the aforementioned file.
I hadn’t noticed anything yet, but I decided I’d check to be sure, flexing several muscles through their range of movement as well as lighting up my horn. Nothing stood out, even a little. “No … I actually feel better physically than I have in years!” Emotionally too … I wasn’t stress-free, by any means, but it all seemed more distant, less urgent.
“Good … if you had, especially at the base of your horn or around your hooves, that could be a sign of magic overload. It’s rare, but it’s dangerous if not dealt with.” She smiled with obvious relief - magic overload, if left to progress, killed humans easily (if you were lucky, you spontaneously combusted; if not, your entire nervous system slowly and painfully burnt itself out), and could trigger dangerous, unpredictable surges in Ponies. “Speaking of magic, have you used yours yet?”
“Yeah, I’ve actually been practicing as much as I can.” Couldn’t help but puff my chest out a bit in pride.
“You can show me your stuff in a few minutes. I need to check a few other things first, though. If you could step on that scale for me, please.” She gestured to a bathroom-style model sized for a Pony, with height and length measurements marked out on the wall behind it. I stepped up, aligning myself with the marks as best I could. “Lessee, forty-three kilos, seventy-one centimeters at the shoulder, and ninety-three long. Fairly typical for a newfoal your age, though a bit under your ideal weight.” She noted that in my file, then motioned me forward. “Now, time to have a look at your vision. Could you come and stand at the blue line on the floor and read the smallest line of letters on the chart?”
“Sure thing doc.” I made my way over to the line, relieved that the chart used the Roman alphabet instead of the Equish one. Standing at the line, I could make out everything for a change. Used to be I could only see down about halfway. “Whoa! I can see the bottom line! P, E, Zed, O, L, C, F, T, D. Clear as day.”
“Good. That’s where it should be for a Pony, which translates to 6/1.5 vision for a Human.” Holy crap! I knew my eyes were better, but that much better? She set the clipboard and pen on a nearby table, then pointed her horn right at me. “OK, now, I want you to hold still, because this might feel a little weird.”
O-kay? I locked my knees without thinking, I knew I could, but I didn’t know how until I just did it. I was glad I did though, because once she lit her horn, I was enveloped in a golden glow, and a sensation swept over me like millions of tiny bugs crawling under my skin, through my veins, and in places I really didn’t know I had much less wanted to think about. After what felt like both an instant and an eternity, it stopped. “What … what did you do? It felt like I was covered in ants inside and out!”
“I just scanned you, that’s all … just making sure there weren’t any surprises in your conversion. You’ll be pleased to know there aren’t, not that I was expecting any.” Her face then scrunched up in puzzlement. “Wait, you felt it that vividly?” I nodded. “That’s … unusual, most Ponies only feel a mild tingle. Now I really want to see what you can do with your magic. Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be!” How eager I was to show off startled me a bit - as a Human I’d been something of a wallflower. Then again, I’d taken a lot of pride in my academics, I guess that pride just shifted outward, and got applied to magic as well.
“Alright, the first test is about magical perception. I want you to tell me what’s in each of those boxes up there as quickly as you can,” Dr. Light gestured at six small, opaque boxes on a shelf near the eye chart. “starting with the one on the left.”
“Alright.” I closed my eyes and focused on the first box … the object inside was spherical save for a single ridge of excess material, and was springy yet slightly yielding. “It’s a rubber ball. Should I keep going?”
“Please.”
“Next up is a hoop earring ... a button … a bottle cap … a wood screw … and a coin, probably a bit.” I felt each object easily, and announced it.
“Very good, now it’s time to test your telekinetic control.” She held up a red rubber ball about two centimeters around in her horn-field. “I want you to take this and run it through those hoops on the ceiling as quickly as you can without bumping the hoops.” The hoops in question - again, there were six, each around five centimeters in diameter, and hung with very thin thread, either dental floss or something very similar - were arranged in a tight loop.
I took the ball in my own field, and raised it up almost to ceiling level, then began moving it through the hoops. It was trickier than it initially looked, and I throttled back some after knocking into the second hoop, sending it spinning and swaying. It took a good bit of concentration, but I made the completed circuit in what seemed like a good time for somepony who’d only had a few hours practice and a dream-fueled head-start on learning.
“Not bad, about five seconds.” Her tone implied that it was a good result for a beginner, and that I’d be capable of a lot more fine control with practice. “One more test - raw power. We could test your endurance too in theory, but that’d take longer than we have available.” She gestured with her right forehoof towards a metal plate on the wall with a bullseye painted on it. “For this test, just give the target a good solid whack with your magic. Don’t worry, you won’t bust anything, it can take anything you can dish out.”
Hmmm … how to handle this … I was used to gripping objects and manipulating them, not using magic to throw a punch. Throw a punch … that’s it! I turned towards the target, telling Dr Light to stand back. I lined up my horn with the bullseye, then closed my eyes. I channeled magic into my horn, visualizing it forming a fist, and then letting fly. I both heard and felt the impact … it didn’t hurt, but I could definitely feel the force of the blow at the same instant the metallic clang reached my ears. Sweet stars, that much force was scary … I could seriously hurt somepony with that, and the thought made me queasy. With an inward vow to never use my magic to harm a living being (unless I was defending myself or somepony else). I shook the mental images of the things I could do to flesh and bone from my head, and looked up at Dr Light.
“You’ve got some juice in you. I mean, you’re no Twilight Sparkle, but you’ve got the potential to be a solid mage if you apply yourself. You’ll have to wait and find out where your strengths are on your own, though.” Dr Light smiled warmly, and then gave me a knowing wink. “Who knows, you might even become a doctor, though I’ll admit I’m a bit biased.” Maybe … only time would tell, I guess, but being an actual mage of any sort really appealed to me.
She glanced at the clock before continuing, “We have time to answer a few of your burning questions, though I’d like to address the obvious first, if you don’t mind. There is a way to reverse the cherry part of your cherry potion,” Apparently, she was amused by the turn of phrase; I wasn’t, but I wasn’t as angry as I expected I’d be, “Unfortunately, it’s still being developed, the team that developed the original potion is hammering out the bugs; last I heard, it should be ready by the Summer Sun Celebration, but there will be something of a waiting list. If you experience any significant dysphoria, let a doctor know, and you’ll be made a priority; otherwise you’re looking at about a two year wait.”
Wait, what? “Two years!? Why so long?” There’d better be a good reason for this!
Dr Light sighed wearily. “Every conversion potion we’ve made to date relies on the extract of a magical plant called poison joke, as it’s the only way we can render a person protean enough for a permanent species transformation - at least without a vat of potion, or very powerful, very complicated spells. Unfortunately, this plant is hard to farm, and only exists naturally in isolated pockets of the Everfree Forest, so we’ve had to cut deeply into our own food production to grow enough to convert billions of Humans, and if the PER wasn’t stealing potion and being reckless with it, and the HLF wasn’t hellbent on destroying it, we’d have had enough for all fifteen billion two years ago. Thankfully, nopony is going hungry because of this, but we are on some fairly strict rationing, and have drawn our once-vast surplus down to almost nothing. And that’s not even going into how much other critical industries have suffered. So yes, our poison joke production will be cut severely.”
“Oh.” Yeah, that was a good reason. In hindsight, it explained a lot of things, really - and said a lot of things about Ponies on the whole, too. Two years did sound like a long time, though having an emergency out if things got really rough really made it easier to think about. Still, two years … that almost certainly came with something I was kinda afraid of. “In those two years, will I go into heat?”
“Yes, twice a year in fact, once late in the spring, and again towards the end of summer, though you can also go into heat other times of the year if you’ve been extremely sexually active. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as some people make it out to be.” Dr Light pulled me into a hug. “Let alone how some Humans tend to portray it.”
“What’s it like?” I blurted out, despite her looking like she was about to explain.
“Your sexual desire will increase significantly over the course of a few days to a week, to the point of discomfort if you ignore it, and will remain at that peak for another week and a half to two weeks, then tapering off over a few more days. That said, masturbation or other sexual stimulation will keep it in check, and copulation with a stallion and insemination will eliminate it entirely for a few days - unless of course you get pregnant, at which point you won’t experience any heat symptoms until you’re no longer pregnant.”
That really hit me like a tank. I could get pregnant! I. Am. Capable. Of. Getting. Pregnant! For some reason, that aspect had passed me by entirely. And it scared the crap out of me, having never considered the possibility before … it really seemed alien to me, or at least to a part of me. Another part - maybe something that came in with my conversion - found it appealing and exciting. I sank to the floor, sobbing as I tried to process the whirl of emotions and thoughts running through me.
Healing Light - it seemed oddly formal to think of her as “Dr Light” right now - knelt beside me, embracing me with a foreleg in what I recognized as a gesture of support and comfort. It certainly helped. “Yeah, that’s quite a shock, I imagine. Just let it all out.” And let it out I did, after crying for a minute or two, I did feel better. “ Don’t worry, you won’t likely get pregnant unless you try to or get careless - the contraception spells and potions we have in Equestria are very reliable and easy to use. And if you do get pregnant, you have a lot less to worry about than a Human woman. Pony pregnancies and births aren’t nearly as bad as Human ones, and we don’t ever shame mares for getting pregnant. I can’t really speak from personal experience on it, since I converted long before I became a mother, but I can point you to a boatload of medical evidence, some of which I helped compile, analyze and publish.”
That was certainly a relief … pregnancy wasn’t as scary when it seemed like something that was possible in theory, but I’d have to go chasing after it, rather than something I’d have to fight uphill to avoid. “That’s … good to know,” I managed. What was odd, now that I’d calmed down is that I’d have expected this to have bothered me a lot more. That was something that seemed significant to note, so I asked Healing Light about it.
“Part of that is simply your conversion euphoria … the potion is designed to flood your body with endorphins to counteract the physical and mental stresses of the transformation; that should wear off some time tomorrow afternoon. The rest is likely a result of the changes in your brain anatomy itself, which is a very important factor in your gender identity, though it can be counteracted by a strong emotional attachment to your gender. The best thing for you to do is simply not worry about it, and rediscover who you are one day at a time. If you’re hurting, upset, or otherwise not doing well, get help - there are plenty of Ponies who will be there to help you - but until and unless that happens, don’t dwell on what might happen.” Sage words from a wise mare. “Anyhow, I’m putting you on the waiting list for the coltification potion; if you decide that you don’t want it, you can tell your doctor or your integration caseworker at any time to drop.” I nodded to let her know I heard and understood. “I have time for a couple more burning questions, though you will be getting copies of books about your new body, and about Equestrian society that should answer a lot of them.”
“Glad to know that I’ll be getting reference guides … still, I have a few things I want to ask.” I decided that I’d leave the sex questions go, those are easier to just read about, provided you trust the source. Instead, I decided I’d go with some general ones that’d been bugging me a while. First up was a “clobber question” the Old Rat used to use to discredit Ponies as liars. “I’ve heard that Ponies eat daffodils. Aren’t they poisonous?”
That prompted a small laugh. “Not to Ponies … we have a high resistance to many poisons, especially botanical ones. I wouldn’t recommend gorging yourself on daffodils, but you can eat them just fine.”
“What do they taste like?” Now I was really curious.
“Kinda like a sweet onion mixed with a leek … savory, but blends well with a lot of cuisine styles.” That sounded really tasty … I really wanted to try one now. “They’re great on pizza, though you can’t really bake them into the cheese. Sorry, some of my herd-mates are foodies.”
“No worries … you made me hungry for them, though.”
“Sorry … you’ll have a chance to try them after you chat with Dream Tender. They’re in season right now, and the cooks just got in a big stash of ‘em.” Smiling bashfully, Healing Light paused briefly. “OK, we have time for one more question, if you have it.”
One more … which one to go with … “Can Ponies vomit? I know Terran horses couldn’t, but we aren’t Terran horses any more than Humans were monkeys.”
“Yes we can. Our digestive tract is still at somewhat of a bad angle, but we have a lot more force behind our gag reflex than Terran horses, or even Humans for that matter. We don’t vomit often, but when we do, we don’t hold back.” She glanced at the clock one last time before opening the curtain. “Anyhow, it’s time for you to see Dream Tender, and for me to see my next patient.” She popped my papers back in the pneumatic tube capsule, and sent it off to wherever it needed to go, and a fresh set arrived a few seconds later. “Looks like she’s waiting for you Frost. Take care of yourself out there.”
“You too, Healing Light.” I resisted the urge to hug her as we walked out. She called out a new number, and another Unicorn approached her, a green-and-gold colt who couldn’t have been more than four. As she turned around, she exchanged friendly waves with a heavily pregnant Thestral mare in Lunar Guard armor, who - since nopony else in the room was wearing anything like it - I assumed was Dream Tender. Still, I’d better confirm. “Hello, I’m Melting Frost, and I was told I was to speak to a representative of the Lunar Guard after my check-up.”
“Yes, I’m Dream Tender.” Her voice was warm yet firm, her expression soft and sympathetic, and she spoke with an American accent. That was surprising - Thestrals, the bat-winged offshoots of Pegasi - were exceedingly rare among Newfoals, and even then, most weren’t in the Guard. “Please follow me, and please don’t tell anyone a word of what we discuss, as what you know may very well be a matter of life and death.”
“Yes ma’am.” I wasn’t nearly as worried as I ordinarily would’ve been, largely due to her demeanor. Fudge, she reminded me a little of the counselor I saw a couple times after my mom passed on, before the Old Rat put a stop to it. She led me off, through the office, into a comfortably appointed conference room, and closed the heavy wooden door.
Author's Note
Sorry for the delays, this took a lot longer than I thought due to a very stressful summer. As it is, I decided to move part of the material I intended for this chapter to the next one. Also, the eye chart Frost reads in there is the actual bottom line of an actual eye chart known as the Snellen Chart . Also, the height and weight are guesstimates, assuming that mass would be consistent through the conversion, and assumes the average adult Pony is about 1 meter high at the withers.
