“So this is your room,” Ocellus notes with some fascination as she beholds my room at Rarity's place. “The bed looks comfy. Seems like it's far bigger than you need considering your original size.”

“Correction . . . this is my room at my sister Rarity's place. I have another room with my parents,” I correct. “And yes, that bed is very comfy. I would even say it's more comfy than the bed at my parents’ place, but I'm also more accustomed to the other one. As for this one, well . . . let's just say my sister has very high standards.” I smirk at the bed in question before adding, “Believe it or not, that bed is a hoof-me-down.” I laugh a little before saying, “I've jumped on both beds enough to realize that both of them are almost equally comfortable but, according to my sister, this one is a little tackier compared to the one she replaced her bed with. I dare you to spot why.”

Ocellus looks at me as she shakes her head before saying, “Oh no. I refuse that challenge. First of all, I haven't had a good look at your other bed before or the one she replaced this one with. Secondly, even if I did see them, I'm sure I don't have a keen eye for detail like your sister does.”

I roll my eyes as I say, “I doubt anypony does.” I look at her. “Or any creature, for that matter.”

Then it occurs to me to wonder what I must have looked like to roll my eyes with these blank bug-like eyes of mine that must seem so expressionless, but I'd trust a true changeling to spot the difference better than most other species would.

A bit reluctantly, I pull my gaze to the vanity mirror in this room because of course it would have one.

As I gaze at myself in the mirror I realize that, deep down, I didn't want to confirm my reality, but this is the first time I get a good look at myself.

What I see is what I expect the most. I've seen evil changelings before. They do look very scary, but my memory also informs me they look downright identical. It's almost as if they are Mirror Pool clones. Considering the fact they can change their shape at will, maybe that was deliberate. Maybe they wanted to look indistinguishable, or maybe Queen Chrysalis commanded them to and they, more or less, reluctantly obeyed.

This particular changeling I see in the mirror is no exception. He looks like an exact carbon copy of every other evil changeling I've ever seen. I can't even distinguish his gender until he speaks.

Speaking of gender, that issue still really bothers me, but this also reminds me of an issue I mused earlier. Do changelings even have any true gender? It seems like it could be a very ambiguous issue to a species that can transform into anyone or anything they wish at will. Maybe gender to them is simply what mood they happen to be in from moment to moment. Kind of like choosing a set of clothes to present themselves with today. Pure whim might have much to do with this, but if that's true, how exactly do changelings reproduce?

“That's a good question,” I muse to myself aloud.

“What is?” Ocellus asks me as she sits on the floor and absently rubs the carpet with a forehoof.

I look at Ocellus as I elaborate, “Changeling gender. The fact that I seem to be male in this form bothers me, but it's also caused me to wonder something. Do changelings even have a true gender? It seems like a very ambiguous issue to me for a species that can transform to whatever they want at will. So . . . what's the answer? Am I really a guy or girl or not? Does it matter? Am I technically gender-neutral? And, for that matter, just how do changelings reproduce?”

I notice how Ocellus attempts to process her answer to each question. I also notice how she winces in discomfort with the last question. For some reason, I struck a nerve with that one. Apparently that is an uncomfortable subject, so I prompt, “What?” After I ask, I privately hope my curiosity isn't coming off as rude to her.

“I can see why you'd ask,” she acknowledges. “I can see why you'd be both curious and concerned . . . and frustrated.

“Across this day, ever since Headmare Starlight informed me of your situation, I tried to imagine how I would feel if our circumstances were reversed. That I'd be stuck as a pony rather than you being stuck as a changeling. Between the two, it seems to me the scenario I'd suffer might be worse because at least you could change your form into whatever you want as soon as you learn how.” Ocellus looks down. “But, as a pony, I'd be stuck in one form. That feels very limiting to imagine. It feels like a picture that lacks color. It feels like a lack of substance. So little freedom to simply be whatever I want to be.”

She looks out the window with a musing expression.

“And yet I often envied pony life for other reasons. Physical limitations notwithstanding, it also means I would have been born and raised in a society like this one.” She nods outside to indicate the outside town. “In that case, I often asked myself that, if I had to choose, which kind of pony would I wish I could be?”

After a bit of a pause, I curiously press, “And? Have you come up with an answer yet?”

“I believe I have,” she says as she looks back at me. “Given the choice, I think I'd prefer to be an earth pony.”

“Really?” I ask. “Why? That seems like the opposite of what you are. Changelings are kind of like alicorns in their base form.”

“Exactly,” Ocellus answers. “Therefore it would guarantee a new experience. In this case, I'd look forward to the simplicity of it just so I could find out how much I can work with it. How much I could build up from that standpoint. The determination of my fate wouldn't be based on how fast or high I could fly or how complex of a spell I can cast. Instead, it would be based on how much I can do with the bare minimum. I think that would be an interesting challenge.”

“Challenge?” I echo, then shake my head. “I barely agree with that. I look at ponies like Applejack or Apple Bloom and I don't see ponies who are hooficapped. Instead, I see ponies who are better at different things.”

Ocellus shakes her head as she says, “Oh, I totally agree, but I think they work with a simpler baseline compared to the other tribes. From there, I think I'd have a better launching point to absorb,” she waves to her chest with both hooves as if gathering something, “the true essence of Equestrian life in it's most fundamental form. You see, right now I am struggling to understand pony life, but it is very fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot just by being here, yet part of me always feels like an outsider.” She lowers her hooves back to her lap as she lightly shakes her head. “I fear that I'll never completely shake that feeling.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I argue. “Being foreign to our culture just makes you more unique and adept at something else. That's a great thing. Those who see life from a different perspective have something valuable to offer us. We, in turn, have something valuable to offer back to you.”

Ocellus tilts her head as she asks, “Even if that thing we offer is sucking out the joy in other ponies?”

“Um, well . . .” I say uncomfortably.

“It's okay. I know what I was,” Ocellus replies. “Right now I'm still trying to figure out what I've become since then.” She nods her head to indicate the mirror as she says, “That image you see of yourself in the mirror . . . I used to have to live with that most of my life except I had a different eye color and I used to be shorter.”

Eye color! Oh yeah!

I look back at myself in the mirror while realizing I overlooked that detail earlier. Evil changelings did still have that distinction at least, but still . . . if I were in their hive, I'd still have a hard time telling them apart. Maybe Rarity could do it, but not me.

“To answer your question,” Ocellus prompts which draws my attention back to her, “I guess you could say we don't have a true gender, and it is true that we can change our forms into anything we want, including other forms of changelings. That said, we do have a true form. Our voice seems to be our biggest distinction of gender. The rest is just a mindset which matters more now than it did before. Prior to our reformation, we were all just faces in a crowd. We weren't meant to stand out, or better to say we weren't allowed to. A uniform form also meant a unified mind. A hive-mind, so to speak. It made us easier to control.”

She squints as she looks down in discomfort. She takes a deep breath as if to gather her courage before looking at me and says, “But to answer your last question involves informing you of an issue that is far more sensitive to my people. I will ask you to promise to keep this secret to yourself before I reveal it. The secret about our reproduction. Promise me, or I'll refuse to answer that question.”

I'm caught off-guard by how sensitive she's treating this issue. It also unnerves me but piques my curiosity just as much. How could I say no to that? Telling a foal there is a forbidden secret is the surest way to entice them to discover it.

But, if this is a sensitive issue, then I would keep the secret if only to be polite to a friend of mine. I dare not offend her.

“Okay,” I say as I nod sincerely. “I promise. I Pinkie promise.”

“Please keep it,” Ocellus begs, “for if this secret gets out, it would severely endanger my people.”

I feel even more startled to hear that, but I nod in agreement again. Now I have to know!

“Okay.” Ocellus pauses as she looks down for a moment. She takes that time to gather her courage, then says, “Okay,” she repeats. “Here goes.”

She looks at me then informs, “The truth is . . . none of us can reproduce. Queen Chrysalis was the only one who could.”

I gasp, startled.

“You see why we'd be sensitive to this issue, right?” Ocellus checks. “Right now my species is in danger of extinction in a few generations. If we can't find a new way to reproduce, we'll be wiped out in less than a century.” She looks down and to the right with a fearful squint. “That's actually yet another reason why Queen Chrysalis was in charge. We knew she was irreplaceable if we wanted our species to continue.” She looks back at me. “There are other reasons, too. She was the oldest of us. Older than the rest of us can live so she's quite likely immortal, or at least ageless.” She shakes her head at me. “This means she never needed to be replaced herself. The idea was for her to serve that role for all of eternity. Always the only mother we could possibly have. Always irreplaceable, and therefore always in charge.

“Behind the scenes, we are scrambling desperately to find an alternative so that new grubs will be born and continue our species. If we fail to do this, then we'll be wiped out as soon as our youngest grubs age to death or die by some other means.”

“Sweet Celestia!” I exclaim. “No wonder your species is so afraid of having that discovery known. If it were made public, it would reveal a gradual and impending doom that others might exploit along the way.”

Ocellus nods as she says, “Exactly, so you see why it's important for you to protect this secret. The security of my entire race depends on it. In fact, we're hoping to solve it before that secret ever gets discovered. That way we could reveal a former problem with impunity because, by then, it would be a moot point.”

I am reluctant to ask something, but I press on since it's so important to know. “But, um . . . what if you fail to discover an alternate means? Does that mean you'll resort to freeing Queen Chrysalis and maybe put her back in charge?”

Ocellus closes her eyes for a second as she shakes her head sadly. When her eyes open and her head steadies again, she admits, “No. If worse comes to worst, we'd rather die than be slaves to her again. Our existence was nothing but pure misery under her rule before. We were left starving all the time because she took the majority of the stolen energy our infiltrators gathered.

“We were also trapped in an existence of isolation, pain, anger, and bitter frustration. All of those reasons are why we hated other species before. We were taught it was us versus them. We were taught that no other species could understand our suffering and, even if they did, they'd only use that knowledge to exploit us. We were determined to be the exploiters just to protect ourselves from an even worse fate. We feared that, but we also hated that which we feared. All threats to the hive must be suppressed or eliminated, and no authority was greater than our all-mighty Queen.

“'Ponies are food, not friends,' was the old adage the hive used to say all the time. They are the outsiders. They are not one of us. They're forever doomed to be alien from us, so we must weaken them before they have a chance to weaken us.

“Our suffering united us, but only to a point. Greed was prevalent in our society too. The strong shall prosper and the weak shall perish. That did happen many, many times over as a reminder of why we must constantly struggle to survive. Queen Chrysalis kept pumping out more eggs than we had the ability to sustain. It left a firm message to all of us; we are replaceable. We are expendable. We are far less important than she is, so we must struggle with all of our might to survive. We must hate, cheat, lie and steal better than our brood mates. We were both united and divided. The Queen is always the number one priority. All others are secondary so survival is restricted to the strongest and most aggressive of us. We were misery incarnate.”

My mind is almost numb to hear this. Now I'm beginning to understand why pony culture is so foreign to her, but it left one question burning in my mind, so I ask it.

“If all you say is true, how did Thorax survive?” I check. “Spike once told me he used to be quite timid. By necessity, he's stronger now, but how could he survive a time when he was weaker back then?”

Ocellus looks out the window as she says, “That's simple to explain. Pharynx, his older brood mate, protected him.”

“But why?” I ask. “If your culture enforced every grub for themselves, why did Pharynx protect his brother?”

“That, I don't know,” Ocellus admits as she looks back at me. “He never admitted it himself either. Part of me is even uncertain if he knows the answer himself. He just did. The hive is grateful for it now but, back then, many were mystified why he did that. No changeling dared to cross him because he was one of our strongest, but still . . . he had a soft spot for his younger brother for some reason.”

I tilt my head as I ask, “You said 'he' and 'brother' in reference to Thorax and Pharynx. Does the hive generally use gender pronouns?”

“Yeah, but . . . well . . .” Ocellus pauses for a moment as she considers how best to answer that question, then shakes her head as she admits, “That's just the way we've always been. Maybe it's because of the behavior we've observed from other species which made us think adopting one gender or another is simply what we should do too. I can't explain why, but we naturally slip into one role or another over time.

“While I'm on the subject, I should add that both genders used to be more meaningless to us. Mere frivolous titles, but these days greater definition is gradually being assigned to each which is heavily influenced by the cultures we observe around us, though I would like to add that both roles are generally approached with considerably more fluidity than I think is normal for most other species.” She shrugs before adding, “We're changelings so we're accustomed to having a loose definition of our role in life. We are whatever we feel we are from moment to moment. We've always lived by that mentality but far more so in recent years.”

“So cool!” I say with wide eyes in deep fascination. “That makes me wish I was a changeling. It sounds so liberating.”

Ocellus squints at me as she says, “Well, for the moment, you are. That's the main reason I'm telling you all of this.”

I frown as I say, “Yeah, but I still don't know how to change my shape.”

Ocellus copies my frown slightly along with a light shrug as she says, “Those of us born as changelings find changing our shape as natural to us as breathing. I find it both strange and disturbing that you hissed due to changeling hunger yet your instincts and reflexes failed to discover our race’s most iconic ability.

“Then again, you were transformed into a member of our race, perhaps temporarily. It's hard to say what the rules are under circumstances like this.”

“Maybe, if we can discover how this happened, we could use that knowledge to preserve your species?” I suggest a little timidly. “After all, another way to supplement your population is for others, like mine, to transform into changelings too.”

“Maybe,” Ocellus says a little lamely. “Right now we don't exactly know how this happened to you. I say nothing is really discovered yet until we establish that first.

“Even if we do find an answer, is it morally wrong to offer a transformation into our species if it means sort of stealing it from another?”

“I don't think so,” I reply. “As long as the transformation was offered with very clear consent, I think the action is morally justified. In that case, it's simply an extra option in life. Quite a number of individuals from many species might jump at that chance if it was somehow offered.”

“What about you?” Ocellus reflects. “Would you accept this opportunity permanently if you had a choice?”

I wince as I say, “Well, maybe, but . . . giving up my ability to have foals of my own is a very tough call. I grew up a great deal in my life with that idea firmly and excitedly implanted in my mind. It's not something I want yet, but someday . . . I think the urge would hit me very hard.” I shake my head. “Until then, I'd forever be curious what it's like.” I shrug. “I know it's not the only option in my life and I suppose I could live without it. Right now it's just in the back of my mind. I don't think about it too often but it's always there. Every time I think about my ability to have foals, the word that is always associated along with it so far is; someday.”

I look up as I say, “The biggest draw for me towards that potential aspect of my life comes to me when I consider my own parents.” I look back at her. “I often see such joy in their eyes when they behold me and, even today, I always spotted their love. Even when it's hidden behind suspicion, bitterness, and fear, I know the source of all those emotions is love. The more I see and feel that love, the more I'm convinced that something is missing from my life if I never experience it myself.”

I'm spacey for a moment, but then I focus on Ocellus as I ask a question that I've been wondering about changelings for years. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but have you changelings always lived your lives hiding among other societies like ours?”

Ocellus shakes her head as she answers, “No. Just the opposite.

“If and when you do discover any one of us hiding among you, which probably is a rare occurrence based on what I've been told in the past, you might be tempted to think that we're always hiding behind every nook and cranny, but the truth is far from that. Instead of that, the vast majority of our species never left the hive. Most of us are always there. We're training, we're waiting for our food supply from the infiltrators, and we're fulfilling our duties to the Queen until Thorax became in charge.

“Of those who do infiltrate your society, or any other for that matter, they are highly trained operatives who passed a long series of grueling tests. They were tested to change shape at the greatest speed and accuracy. They were trained to simulate the personalities of other would-be victims. They were trained in how to hide themselves or what to do in case of discovery. Most importantly, they are trained how to absorb a vast amount of energy so that they return to the hive and get drained of it themselves. A majority of that energy is reserved for the Queen until she has her fill. The rest spreads to the hive and, of us, those who proved the strongest and most loyal get first dibs. If there is not enough to go around, the least of us may be doomed to starve to death.”

At first I look upon her with horror. Moments later my expression sinks to mortified sympathy.

Ocellus applies a hoof to her lips as she muses, “In hindsight, I keep thinking that the number of infiltrators was kept to a minimum so that the weakest of us would starve deliberately. They claimed, at the time, that we couldn't have too many field operatives out there or else it would risk discovery so we only sent the best of the best.” She lowers her hoof. “However, I can see, now, how an environment of natural strife benefits an evil Queen like Chrysalis. She kept us suppressed so that we'd never find the courage or conviction to revolt. We were too distracted with our own problems to consider how things could have been done better. She controlled the flow of knowledge, too. Those of us left stuck in the hive, which was the vast majority of us, never had the chance to learn anything beyond what she taught us.

“As for the infiltrators, they were heavily conditioned during their training. They were taught that any act they summon is just that; an act. They were taught never to think beyond those levels. They were taught never to truly understand or assimilate into the society they hid in. They were taught always to feel like an outsider even while pretending to fit in. Most importantly, they were taught that those who betray the hive would relentlessly be hunted down.”

Ocellus waves a dismissive hoof as she goes on to say, “Thorax was exempt from that dogmatic rule, until he later returned to the hive of his own accord, because he wasn't a true infiltrator. Instead, he was merely an invader, and a particularly young one at that.” She looks at me. “Had he been a true and fully trained infiltrator that abandoned his post, the hive would have spared no effort to hunt him down with determination because infiltrators are exposed to the hives’ greatest secrets, but Thorax was considered an annoying but non-consequential traitor that wasn't worth pursuing.

“And, as you well know, the changelings didn't bother with hiding themselves much during the Canterlot invasion so it was all hooves on deck during that invasion. That included all non-infiltrators which, for the majority of us, was our first true taste of exploring the outside world. That certainly was the case for Thorax, but he chose to go missing in action at the conclusion of that failed attempt.”

“Were you there?” I had to ask because I was there. Now I'm wondering if I secretly encountered Ocellus before until I see her shaking her head.

“No. I was too young at the time. Even Thorax barely qualified as old enough for the invasion. I, on the other hoof, was left back at the hive too, quote/unquote, 'guard' it, but I know the truth by now. That was just an excuse to get us out of the way. The truth was we weren't old enough to be considered useful yet.”

Ocellus sighs, then says, “Also, in hindsight, I have a suspicion that's why Thorax chose me for this assignment to study friendship in this town and to study pony society, but this time with a much more open mind. I'm old enough to be mostly independent, but also young enough to be impressionable and I'd probably not be perceived as a threat.” She shrugs. “I was too shy for that, but he also saw me as a gifted student. I love to learn and I'm good at it.

“Oh, and here's another secret, although this one isn't as critical. Right now Thorax is sending me alone as a test but on the condition that I mostly keep to my own true form. He is trying to introduce me to other societies, like this one, to see how ponies react. In the process, he is trying to ascertain how much time and effort will be required before the citizens of Equestria are willing to completely accept us for who we are in our natural forms. Thorax doesn't want us to hide behind secrets and lies anymore. He wants us to simply be as we naturally are. No gimmicks. No tricks. Nothing but the genuine article. His hope is that we can eventually trot down busy streets like Whinnyappolis or Manehatten and no pony bats an eye at us. Or, even better, for pony citizens to willingly give us a friendly wave hi because, as you know by now, our survival still depends on positive social connections. We might not steal positive emotions anymore, but we still need to be surrounded by them.

“This also means, among other hidden weaknesses of our race, that being a hermit is an option forever barred to us. We simply cannot survive on our own without any genuine affection in our lives.

“Based on the results I gather, Thorax plans to use that information to influence his future decisions regarding our relationship with other races. He wants us to be more open and invited, but he's also aware that our troubled history means he has to approach this cautiously. There is a lot of suspicion and distrust for both sides to recover from.

“So far my reception has been largely positive, but it is likely because of the precautions we implemented. Had we applied a stronger and more heavy-hooved tactic, it is likely we'd have suffered a darker reception and impeded harmonious growth with others in the long run. Since our survival depends on the relationships we forge, we have to be very careful how we hoofle this.”

Wow! I am learning a lot tonight. Now, all of a sudden, I regret not having my diary on hoof.

Although, on second thought, I've been privy to many critical secrets about changelings tonight. Perhaps sharing this info in any way, including to an inanimate object, might not be the best option.

This is a lot to process, especially considering everything else I've experienced today.

A knock on my door draws both of our attention to it. From beyond the door, my sister calls, “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, girls. Be prepared to join me in a moment. After that, I'll need you two to prepare for a bath then it's off to bed shortly thereafter.”

I smile both inwardly and outwardly when I hear my sister refer to both of us as “girls”. Being a plural word, it naturally includes me.

I take a moment to marvel at how good that feels. That, in turn, draws me to the conclusion of how natural it feels. Because of that, I still know who I am deep inside.

Aside from that, it seems to me, based on what Ocellus has been telling me, changelings might have a loose definition for their gender anyway. It seems to all come down to personal taste and preference except for Queen Chrysalis. She's the only one to absolutely be confirmed to be a woman, or she has characteristics of both sexes at the most while the rest of her hive technically has neither.

Huh. I wonder if changelings can reproduce while being disguised as other races. If they could, would they breed as changelings or the other race they disguised themselves as?

Well, I can't take too long to muse this for now. I have to get ready to go.

Author's Note

While almost certainly not the only potential interpretation of the changeling species, I had to settle for an in-story canon for this chapter because Sweetie Belle had every opportunity and incentive to ask someone who would know the answer to most of her questions in this chapter. Now it is the lore and the baseline to explain both past and future events within this story. That, in turn, is a launching point for other events yet to come.

I've been looking forward to public opinion about this chapter if willingly offered. As a side note, this chapter is being posted the day before Halloween. I wish it was more thematically appropriate for the season. This story does have a horror theme on occasion which will rear its head in later chapters, but by then it will be too late for this season. Oh well. At least it has a semi-dark theme, but it is mostly a recap explanation of how bad things were for Ocellus's species. That, in turn, also helps to highlight how much things have improved since then and why.