Bon Bon versus the Blight
The young earth pony filly sat on the edge of the bench in the hospital waiting room, empty expect for herself. She jumped up and trotted around the room for a bit, stopped to read a notice on the wall about the importance of regular hoof washing, sat back down again, picked up a Canterlot newspaper and stared blankly at a cartoon on the front page showing a pony with tree branches sprouting apples growing out of her mane, then put it down again and sat biting the edges of her fore hooves. She had just started another trot around the room when the door opened and a mare wearing a dark blazer and sunglasses walked in.
Applejack ran over to her. “Doctor—are they okay? Tell me they’re doin’ okay—please!”
The mare did not answer straight away but first closed the door, then walked across to the window on the opposite wall, and peered outside before pulling the curtain closed. The filly followed her back and forth across the room. Once satisfied that they were not being overheard, the mare removed her sunglasses, shook her blue and pink mane, and turned to face Applejack with stern, but not unfriendly, blue eyes.
“I’m not a doctor. My name is Special Agent Sweetie Drops. I work for a super-secret anti-monster and biohazard agency in Canterlot, specializing in dangerous genetic mutations. When I got news of the apple blight I came straight here. We need to talk.”
“B-but are they okay? Bic Mac and Granny Smith? A-are they goin’ to get well?”
“They will be okay. You did well to get them here quickly. They’ve had a dose of antibiotics. Granny Smith is a tough old mare and should be fine within a few days. Your brother is more serious. The bacteria caused an inflammation of his throat. He will make a full recovery, but may not be quite so talkative from now on.”
“I’m mighty pleased to hear that.” Applejack relaxed a little. Agent Sweetie Drops expression was unchanged.
“This was a serious outbreak,” she said. “For some months we’ve been tracking a dangerous new mutant strand of apple blight which can also affect ponies.”
“I thought that was just a story.”
“It exists. But nopony must know that. We thought it had been contained to the orchards east of Appleloosa, but now it has appeared here. Has your family ignored the ban on the transport of live trees?”
“We—err—” Applejack paused, but she was no good at telling lies. Sweetie Drops waited. “Well—ye see, cousin Braeburn came to visit last week, and he brought a sapling as a present. He was just bein’ friendly. We didn’t know it was a problem—”
Sweetie Drops nodded. This was confirming what she already knew.
“The disposal team are at your farm now. They will remove the infected trees. If any more show any signs of blight in the coming weeks, send word to us immediately. As a precaution, turn all remaining apples into cider. Ferment it well to kill the bacteria. And don’t tell a word to anypony.”
At the last command, Applejack looked puzzled.
“Why?”
“Imagine the consequences. The newspapers have been running sensational stories about mutant apple blight for weeks. They mix it in with so many joke articles—stuff about ponies turning into trees and apples growing hooves—so no pony believes it. But if word gets out that it is real, there will be pandemonium.”
“Why not just tell everyone the truth?”
“We must stop them from finding out at all costs. This could cause a complete public panic.” Applejack looked sceptical. Sweetie Drops looked her right in the eye. “We are looking at the total collapse of the Equestrian Apple Farming industry. Ponies are already sceptical about fruit grown so close to the Everfree forest. The trade deal between Equestria and Muledavia is up for renewal next month. A scare like this is all they need to block all apple imports.”
“But—”
“Word about the outbreak has already got out. Ponies are swarming around the hospital wanting to know what’s happening. They’ve seen our agents in hazmat suits on your farm. And the rumour is that it is the mutant apple blight. They want to know what is going on. We’ve kept this hidden for weeks, but it could break out now. It is dangerously close to getting out of hoof. The press have heard the rumours. A reporter from the Ponyville Express was asking questions at the hospital. The story will be out tomorrow, and by Wednesday it will in the Manehattan Times. We dispatched an agent to sabotage the railway lines. That will delay the reporters, but they will get here by other means.”
“Why are you tellin’ me this?”
Sweetie Drops walked over to the window and checked nopony was listening from outside. She walked back to Applejack and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“If we try to deny everything now, it will just create even more suspicion. We need a different strategy. We need a cover story. This is where I need you!”
She pointed a hoof at Applejack.
“What! What can I do?”
“There’s a public meeting in half an hour. We’re going to pretend that we think it might be mutant apple blight. That it could be very serious and we are properly investigating it. Everyone will be very nervous and grave-faced. Then I want you to walk into the room—”
“Me?”
“—and announce to everypony that the whole thing is a big misunderstanding. A big lie.”
“A lie!”
“Tell them you made the whole thing up. There’s nothing wrong with Granny Smith and Big Mac except a bit of fever. You did it to try to get out of honouring a deal you made with Filthy Rich which you couldn’t keep.”
The revelation that the agency knew this detail shocked the farm pony more than anything else.
“How’d you know about that?”
The special agent just smiled and Applejack decided not to ask further.
“Well I’m not goin’ to lie to everypony. They’d never believe a story like that anyway.”
“They are far more likely to believe that a school filly told a pack of lies, than that a government agency is telling the truth. In a case like this, the crazier it is, the better. If you tell the simple truth, everyone will think you are hiding something. But they still don’t want to believe the truth, so if we spin them a story of how a silly young filly told a string of tales that got out of control and lead to her whole family ending up in the hospital, they’ll believe it.”
“What about Big Mac and Granny Smith?”
“Tell them the same story. When they recover, they will be a bit confused. We’ll tell them they just had a bit of fever, but you told everyone it was apple blight. Just tell them you’re sorry. Years later they will think it’s a fun story to laugh about. They will retell it many times, changing the details a little each time until no one remembers the truth.
“But it doesn’t feel right, lyin’ to everyone.”
“You have to. It’s the only way to stop a public panic.”
“I’m not doin’ it.”
The Special Agent’s face turned graver. “If you don’t cooperate, and the public learn that the mutant apple blight has infected your farm, we will have to incinerate every building and tree to show them that we take it seriously. It’s your choice. Now—I've got to go find a crowd to blend into.”
With this final word, Agent Sweetie Drops opened the window, took a rope and grappling hook out of her mane, hooked this over the sill and jumped out of the room, leaving the honest farm pony more flustered and confused than ever.
“And that’s why your sister told the biggest lie that’s ever been told in Ponyville, to save your farm, and stop everypony learning about the mutant apple blight!”
Apple Bloom yawned. “That’s the biggest load of horse apples I ever heard.”
“It’s true,” Scootaloo insisted. “Rainbow Dash told me.”
