Eileen dispensed what she hoped was the last meal before she could come out from behind the counter and have her own dinner. At least this time she had no one complain to her about the meager amounts of meat in their ration. She was tired of explaining just how damned expensive meat was. Not that anything was really cheap these days.
Eileen glanced towards the door, where a National Guard soldier stood watch. He took the glance as an unspoken question and peeked out the door. "No more for now, Ms. McDermott."
"Thanks," Eileen said in a tired voice. She removed her apron and quickly went about preparing her own meal, taken from the same rations as everyone else. Most of the staff tended to retreat to a room in the back to eat, but she preferred to stay with the others. She wanted to put a face on the people who came through here and not treat them as just random destitutes in search of a meal.
As she looked around for a spot to sit, she felt like she had stepped into a history book. The Great Depression was just a footnote in history for her, and yet now she felt like she was living it. The media were loathe to call it that, as not every area of the country was affected like this. This little place just on the outskirts of Pueblo, Colorado was considered one of the last bastions of humanity in the west. That was a bit of hyperbole to her, but not to the ones coming hat in hand for help.
Eileen scanned the crowd for new faces. She knew most of their stories already. A good number of people who visited the Relief Center -- to her, a fancy term for "soup kitchen" -- were former IT workers out of Denver and Colorado Springs. They either had no jobs or were forced to take low-paying manual labor work. Much of the tech sector in that part of the country had been forced to relocate to the east or west coast, and the jobs had gone with them. With the economy in shambles, many didn't have the money to relocate.
Eileen didn't profess to understand all the details about how the economy had crashed. Certainly it had to do with a significant chunk of Americans no longer in the labor force and no longer buying consumer goods. Some of the land that had been a focus for industry ranging from timber to tech were in pony hooves. This all came on the heels of an economy that had already been strained by the rampant absenteeism caused by the initial flu outbreak. Many services that had become thin during that time had yet to recover. Ponies no longer needing money had not helped; until the government started simply destroying money turned in by ponies, the sudden increase in circulating currency caused inflation to spike.
The government had been going on and on about things getting better soon thanks to programs to help relocate both humans and ponies alike to better balance the land use and bring humans closer to businesses who were actually hiring, but the ponies' penchant for being friendly and accommodating only went so far. Some had started digging in their hooves and refused to be moved about further. For those ponies who sought integration into human society, it led to needless animosity towards them from humans.
It didn't help the national mood that the numbers of ponies volunteering for "rehumanization" were depressingly low two months into the program.
"Over here," Eileen heard a gruff voice say.
She turned her head to see a barrel-chested man sitting at a table with two chairs. A smart phone sat on the table beside him, a bit of a rare commodity. Normally, she would advise him not to openly display such an expensive-looking gadget for fear of it being stolen, but the man gave off a vibe that said "don't mess with me unless you want your ass handed to you on a plate." He was the most neatly dressed of anyone there, the only thing breaking the illusion was the graying stubble on his face. He waved a beefy hand towards the empty chair across from him.
Eileen headed over and sat down. "Thanks."
The man extended his hand across the table. "John Barrows."
Eileen accepted it. "Eileen McDermott."
"Hey, yeah, I was right, I do know you," said John in a fairly heavy New York accent. "Weren't you the gal my guys caught tryin' to run the blockade into Lazy Pines?"
Eileen hesitated. While all charges against her had been dropped in exchange for her being the guinea pig for the counterspell, she was still wary of discussing it. "Guess it depends on who wants to know."
John chuckled. "No worries, I don't harbor any grudge about it. None of the other men did. Just doin' their jobs."
"You were with the police in Lazy Pines?" Eileen asked.
"Police chief in fact," he said with more than a hint of pride in his voice. "Not anymore, of course, since the country went to shit."
Eileen glanced at the National Guard soldier. "I thought there would be a big call for law enforcement considering."
John shook his head. "Most of that's still being handled by the military. They say that martial law's not been in force for a while, but I'm just not seein' that. Yeah, I could go back to New York and maybe get something there, but nowhere near my former rank and salary. And the damn ponies certainly don't need me."
"Before you go off on any tirade," said Eileen in a cautious tone. "I have family who are ponies, so I won't take too kindly to it."
John waved a hand dismissively. "Naw, I've done all the ranting I'll ever do about it. Besides, I got a sister who's a unicorn. Tried to drill it into her fool head to get rehumanized, but she went off and got marked instead."
"Got marked" was meant to be a derogatory term for acquiring a cutie mark. "My son is a unicorn. Unmarked, still. Sister and her husband and one of their daughters, the oldest, all marked. My mother's a pony, unmarked, but stubborn. Becoming a pony did nothing to soften that Irish brogue of hers." She paused. "My sister's younger daughter Jenny is going for rehumanization."
"Well, hey, that's one bright spot," said John. "What about your son? Think he might do it eventually?"
Eileen gave him a faint smile. "Never sure with him. I've been exchanging letters with him since my cell phone died and the postal system isn't such crap anymore."
John frowned. "Can you believe that the postal service actually suggested they start hiring pegasi to get them back into business sooner? Jesus."
So much for having done all his ranting, Eileen thought ruefully. "Why the hell not? Personally, I think the controversy over it is stupid. I think it would be better if some ponies did integrate back into society. Shit, I could think of a lot of things pegasi alone could do, like make rain over forest fires."
John rubbed his neck. "I still think they're just treating this as some stupid lark. They'd all be better off as human again."
"Well, there's still time for that to happen," said Eileen, though she was no more hopeful than most.
"Yeah, but I'm just not seein' that happening. Here, look at this." He shoved his cell phone across the table and turned it around. "Look at this video I was just watching a little while ago."
Eileen set her meal aside and tapped the play icon. It was a news report where several ponies were interviewed about the push to have them rehumanize.
"Why the hell would I want to do that?" one yellow and orange earth pony mare from Florida said. "When I was human, I had Lupus. I was in constant pain every day. Now not only am I healthy, I've got tons more strength than I ever had!"
"Go back?" said a purple and blue unicorn stallion from Phoenix. "Why? So I can be homeless again? Yeah, it took me a bit to learn to use my horn properly, but I had other ponies helping me rather than treating me like some kinda trash someone dropped on the street. Not everyone who's homeless is a drug addict, you know."
The third, a green and yellow pegasus mare from Kansas, was a little more sanguine. "I've actually been thinking about it after hearing the truth behind it all," she said in a soft voice. "But, I don't know. I have tons of friends I don't want to leave behind. I do wish humans would let ponies work more with them. There's so many things we can do to help them."
Finally, a brown and amber earth stallion from Wyoming spoke. "Rather than droning on and on and on about how I'm not supposed to be a pony, how about letting me help, huh? I've already done all I can for our pony community. Let me do something to help humans, okay?"
Eileen tapped the pause icon. "Frankly, I think those last two kinda prove my point."
"Yeah, but it also shows there ain't gonna be droves of ponies wanting to be human again, and that's the only thing that will fix the country right now," John declared.
Eileen knew what John really meant: that was the only thing that would bring back the old world. The old world was dead, and a new one was slowly -- if painfully -- rising in its place.
Before Eileen could respond, she suddenly noticed that silence had descended on the shelter. She turned her head and spotted the visitor just inside the door.
"Crap," Eileen muttered as she launched herself from her seat.
"Eileen, you have a minute?" said the earth pony stallion with a bright orange coat and dark red mane. Upon his haunches was a cutie mark shaped like a stream of water with steam rising from it. Around his neck was a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.
Eileen rushed through the shelter and herded the earth pony outside. "Goddammit, Fire, I told you to come in through the staff entrance!" Eileen growled through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry," said Fire Springs, his ears drooping. "But no one was there when I looked."
Eileen sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry I got upset with you. I just didn't want to give the soldier in there something to do."
"Look, if I'm going to spread the word about reuniting with the humans, I have to live that philosophy as well."
Eileen tended to enjoy working with ponies, and she liked that some of them really did want to help, but those like Fire taxed her patience. He was a Lunite, a sector of the pony population that looked towards the Equestrian Princess Luna as a spiritual leader. Some of the night ponies whom Luna had contacted to modify Sunset's vision had become so enthused with her that they included her in the vision.
The Lunites were not the only such movement among the transformed. Without Sunset's guiding influence, and being encouraged to think for themselves, ponies were coming up with various belief systems around what had happened. Another group had been dubbed the New Equestrians, who believed ponies should live as they do in Equestria. A similar group were the Harmonists, who believed fervently in the Five Pillars of their faith: Honesty, Loyalty, Kindness, Generosity, and Laughter.
Then there was the tiny contingent that Eileen frankly hoped stayed tiny: the Shimmerists. To them, Sunset was both savior and martyr.
What was common to many of them, however, was their belief that they needed to stay ponies, and in turn came a need to rename themselves as Fire had done. Even Laura was going around as Sunrise Storm.
"What is it you came to see me about?" asked Eileen.
"I just wanted to let you know that some earth ponies up north are willing to try raising more chickens to help augment the meat supply," said Fire. "Right now, they've been raising them only for their eggs."
"Doesn't that offend your pony sensitivities to be sending animals for slaughter?"
"Not really. Just because we don't eat meat doesn't mean we begrudge those who do."
Eileen sometimes found herself wanting to discover reasons to give ponies a hard time. This really wasn't their fault, and nothing she or any human or pony could do would force her son to make up his mind. "Thanks, Fire, but keep that under wraps, okay? The agriculture business in this country took a huge hit, and the last thing they need is to hear you're undercutting them."
"As soon as human farms can provide, we'll stop sending food," said Fire. "But if it's ever needed again, you're damn straight we're going to help. We're not going to let people go hungry over a point of politics."
Eileen wanted to explain it wasn't as simple as that. Already people were demanding that food produced with magic be labeled like GMO foods were. All sorts of foolish misinformation was circulating, such as eating magically produced food would eventually turn someone into a pony. It was patent nonsense, but even before the crisis, so-called "fake news" had been an issue.
The food industry was a mixed bag. The beef and poultry industry took a huge hit when part of their consumer base vanished. Prices first crashed due to saturation of the market, then skyrocketed as cattle ranchers went bankrupt and inflation went out of control. Producers of corn were hit next, as much of their market was for cattle feed or to manufacture corn syrup, which in turn went into products ponies didn't want. Grain and vegetable markets fared somewhat better, but they, too, were hit with wild price fluctuations and a dearth of replacement equipment. The federal government finally had to step in and impose rigid price controls.
It wasn't that there was a lack of arable land for humans to use, it was more finding people willing to work the land in a depressed economy. Earth ponies were more than willing to share their surplus with humans but had to overcome lingering suspicion, misinformation, and politics. In very few places in the US were people actively going hungry; the ponies found a way to work with humans in many unofficial capacities that the federal government tacitly if not publicly supported.
Eileen and the rest of the Relief Center staff never let on exactly how much of their rations were pony-supplied.
"Nothing is simple anymore," said Eileen in a softer voice.
"That's one of the reasons I decided to stay a pony," said Fire. "I felt like it actually had simplified my life, considering I was working fifty and sixty hour weeks at a desk job I hated."
Eileen almost repeated the mantra that she had drilled into herself after hearing it from the purple pony princess -- that becoming a pony wouldn't solve her problems -- but it would be wasted on Fire. To him, it had solved his problems. His talent was finding hydrothermal features in the landscape, and he mentioned that he had a long-standing interest in geology and always regretted not pursuing it as a career.
Eileen managed a small smile. "I guess whatever works for you. Thanks for the help as always, Fire."
Fire Springs smiled, nodded, and headed away.
Eileen watched him go. In a way, she felt like she was looking into the future. Humans and ponies had to find some way to accommodate each other. Their very survival depended on it.
Laura darted up high above the clouds that were being gathered below, her gaze whipping around as she shielded her eyes from the sun with a fore-hoof. So far, the coast was clear. The helicopter she had earlier spotted in the distance had not returned. Hopefully that meant they had not been spotted.
She dove back down and joined the crew of four other pegasi who were busy creating a small rain shower as fast as they could and as boldly as they dared. Not that she had much work to do, as her cohorts had nearly finished the job. Naturally, they would with Rainy Skies -- otherwise known as Emma -- in charge of the detail.
Laura flew up to her friend, briefly glancing at Emma's cutie mark, that of a cloud dropping rain and driven by the wind. She still remembered the day it had shown up. Emma had indeed tried her hoof at going back to sewing, and while she had some success with it, the lure of the skies proved too much to ignore.
Laura felt like Emma had chosen on her own. When Emma decided to rename herself, she thought it appropriate that their names complemented each other.
"I think we got this, Sunny," said Emma.
Laura smiled. She still liked that nickname despite its past connotations. She was always careful to introduce herself as Sunrise Storm before letting them call her Sunny. She admitted choosing the name as a nod to her more positive memories of Sunset, but decided a break with the past was in order, hence the name Sunrise.
The other pegasi gave the clouds a buck, and the skies under them darkened with rain.
"Let's head away under the clouds to avoid being seen," Laura said.
The others fell into formation around her as they dove through the obscuring mists of the clouds and broke through into the soft rain. Laura glanced down at the section of forest that had remained far too dry for too long. With a little moisture, the fire danger would be reduced.
No one in any official capacity had asked them to do this. If anything, human authorities were still adamant about reigning in pony abilities until they could arrange for "proper" training from Equestrian experts. Those experts had failed to materialize for most pegasi, and ponies like Laura grew more impatient.
"This really is ridiculous, you know," Laura said, giving voice to her thoughts.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Emma said with a roll of her eyes.
"It's been three months now! You'd think they'd actually want fully trained pegasi around when the Atlantic hurricane season started. Or the tornado season in the Midwest."
"Oh, I doubt they'll let us handle anything that big for a long time," said Emma. "If anything, they'll start blaming us for any bad weather that happens."
Laura sighed. She had really wanted to take to heart the idea of engaging with humans and avoid a pony isolationist mindset. Indeed, she had even supported plans to try to make Denver more of an integrated, multispecies city rather than the separated pockets of humans and ponies that it was now. It didn't help that some bright spark among the ponies had dubbed their part of town "Ponyopolis," and the name had somehow stuck despite sounding a little silly to Laura's ears.
"I have a feeling I know what the delay is," said Emma. "It's not that Equestria won't train us. The unicorns at least have been given some more basic spells."
"Yeah, but only very basic," said Laura. "Bob's complained about not being able to do more advanced spells. He figured out all the basic stuff himself."
"And the earth ponies were given lessons on maintaining the land," Emma continued. "But where pegasi and weather control are concerned, the US government is dragging its feet. I think they're waiting to see just how many ponies will still be around after this rehumanization thing is over."
Laura tried to stay away from that topic whenever she could. She knew Jenny was going for it and would unlikely be swayed otherwise. She wasn't looking forward to how awkward things might be between them for a bit. Many of Laura's friends thought Jenny a little funny in the head for wanting to change back, but then again, many of them had already gained cutie marks.
Gaining a cutie mark was occasionally bittersweet, especially if it meant that the pony's true talent would take them away from the community. That was what caused Joan to move away when she gained her mark of a bird with a bandaged wing, realizing her true calling was back in bird rehabilitation.
"You're probably right," Laura said in a glum voice. "Is it me, or are humans still trying to pretend that we're going to go away if they wait long enough?"
"Is that what finally made you agree to do stuff like this?"
Laura had begged off using pegasus abilities to do anything outside of maintaining the weather in their own communities. She had wanted to hold to being respectful of the fact that they shared this world with humans. Yet she realized that many of these delays indirectly hindered themselves. With so much of the forested lands of the west in pony hooves -- whether by sanction of the US government or not -- a wildfire here could be more devastating to ponies than humans.
"Sort of," said Laura. "More that not all humans are of that mindset. Here, I'll show you what I mean."
She directed her contingent out from under the rain shower and towards a small building at the end of a winding dirt road. A human male in a ranger's uniform waved at them. Laura led her cohorts into the clearing and landed. "We took care of some of those dry spots like you asked."
The man smiled as he advanced. His uniform looked a little worse for wear. He was technically a volunteer now, as US government infrastructure had not recovered enough to pay the man a steady wage. "Thank you kindly for that," he said in a slightly raspy voice.
"You sound better," Laura said with a smile. "Finally shaking off that cold?"
"Seems like it."
Emma nudged Laura with a wing. "You hadn't told me there was a human living out here. Or that he asked you to do this."
"I've only known him for a few weeks," said Laura. "I've been trying to find more like him, people who actually want us to work with them."
The ranger nudged his hat back. "Sunny here's been a big help. Granted, I don't have any official authority right now, but I felt I had to do something."
"What makes you stay here?" Emma asked.
"This is my job, my life," said the ranger. "I'm not going to give it up. Hell, if I were a pony, I'd have a cutie mark by now."
Laura turned to her friends. "This is what we have to do, everypony. We all have to find more people like him. We have to show humans we can work with them and that they don't have to be afraid of us."
"But that's dangerous, isn't it?" Emma said. "You've heard the same stories I have about all those survivalists holed up in the mountains."
"Somepony has to take that first step. If we don't, who will?"
"I just want us to be safe and happy. I finally feel like I've gotten to that point in my life. I guess I didn't want to spoil it."
"I'm not saying we have to. We just need to expand our horizons a bit."
The ranger stepped up. "If it helps any, I can't believe I'm the only human who feels like they can live with ponies instead of apart from them. I'll bet anything that there are people actively preaching that message."
Laura turned towards him. "There has to be. What a lot of ponies don't realize is that there are still far more humans on this world than ponies. Our future depends on them."
"I'm not sure I like that idea," Emma said.
"It's the truth nonetheless," said Laura. "And the sooner we realize that, the better. Becoming ponies didn't solve all our problems, it just shifted the challenges that face us."
Emma slowly nodded, as did her cohorts. "I guess you're right."
Laura managed a smile. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Perhaps things were not moving as fast as she would like, but somepony had to move things along. She could only hope that others were trying to move things along as well.
Father Lyle Donovan climbed up into the pulpit and looked out over the congregation who had gathered for Sunday Mass. The Gospel reading had just been concluded, and this was one of his favorite parts of the ceremony: the sermon.
It was not that he liked lecturing to people. He tried to use this time to put his faith into his own words, but with the added challenge of not calling on too many religious invocations. He didn't want his sermons to devolve into "do this because God told you to."
It also gave him a chance to look at his congregation and assess their well-being. He was glad to be pastor of a small church; with the roomy, big-city churches, he could barely see anyone's face past halfway down the pews.
He was happy to see Mrs. Johnson's dress looking a little less threadbare. Goods delivered from outside were few and expensive, and people had to make do with what they had. Some had left Carbondale to follow the movement of jobs out of town, but too many people here had strong connections to the area and decided to stay and tough it out until things got better.
He noticed Ms. Kelsy sitting in the pew next to Mrs. Johnson, a needle-and-thread cutie mark gracing the unicorn mare's haunches. He hoped that meant she was the one who helped patch Mrs. Johnson's dress. Only just last week, they had sat on opposite sides of the church from one another.
The entire congregation was a mix of human and pony. In many cases, the ponies sat apart, but over the course of the last few Sundays -- like Ms. Kelsy and Mrs. Johnson -- he was seeing more mingling. Ponies still tended to remain apart from humans, with ponies living in communities outside of town and humans inside. Thanks to the efforts of Father Donavan with help from the other churches in town, they had managed to urge both sides to come together more often. It helped that some of the ponies were eager to do so, especially those who wanted to return to their religious faith.
The church was not as full as during the ETS crisis, but certainly more so than it had been pre-crisis. He hoped that was a trend that would continue, not so much so he could count on more devout Catholics, but because the church was a means by which they could come together as one people.
Yet he, of all of them, could understand the calling the ponies felt they had.
His horn glowed, and he neatened the arrangement of sermon notes before him. He brushed a few strands of gray-streaked white mane hair from his blue eyes with the back of a brownish-red-furred hoof.
"My fellow beings in Christ," he said in the same gentle voice that still seemed very appropriate coming from the unicorn pony priest as it had from the human who once presided over the Mass. "Recent events have tested us and our faith in ways that we never had dreamed possible."
That was certainly true for Lyle himself. Once he became fully pony and realized much of his congregation would be as well, he decided that he would best serve them as one of them. He acquired his cutie mark soon after, that of a Christian cross superimposed on a Eucharist host. He felt it was a reaffirmation of his faith, a sign that he had indeed taken up his true calling.
"But I don't mean faith in God," said Lyle. "I speak of faith in ourselves. It is almost too easy to look for God for help compared to reaching out to others, especially given how different and strange our neighbors may seem."
Mrs. Johnson and Ms. Kelsy exchanged a glance and smiled at one another. It was then Lyle noticed the pendant around Ms. Kelsy's neck depicting the Virgin Mary. Several other ponies sported similar pendants. A few weeks prior, word had come down to the Carbondale ponies that the mare in the initial vision was believed by some to be an image of Mary, and that belief had taken off among some of the Catholic ponies in the area.
"I overheard a comment the other day. The comment was: I don't even recognize the world I live in anymore."
More than a few people, human and pony alike, nodded their heads.
"Some years ago, before settling in Carbondale, I volunteered for relief efforts in New Orleans in the wake of hurricane Katrina," Lyle continued. "I heard a comment very similar to that from one of the residents. It indeed seemed like the world as he knew it had come to an end. His home, his entire neighborhood, places he had known for many years were all gone and never to return."
A few of his human congregation looked uneasy. They had relatives who were still ponies, and they likely had argued with them time and time again about rehumanization to little effect.
"Since then, his neighborhood has been rebuilt and is thriving again. It's not the same neighborhood. It's not the same world. It's not his world anymore. Yet all was not lost for this man. My friends and I encouraged him to move somewhere else, somewhere he could make his world. No, it was never the same as the old, but he adapted to it enough to make his life fulfilling again."
A glow from his horn, and he quickly switched to the next page of his notes.
"The same challenge is before us, my friends," Lyle continued. "Yet we do not have the luxury of moving someplace else, of making someplace else our world. We could argue whether what has befallen us is the work of God or the work of the Devil, but the end result is the same. We have a new world before us, and we have to make that world our own."
Lyle noticed a man wearing a cowboy hat sitting in the back row. Lyle could not remember whether the man had been there from the start of the service. Lyle knew him only as Mark, and that he had been very adamant about not going to Mass run by a "pony preacher." Even now he still wore a sour expression as he listened.
"There is another reason I've told you this tale," said Lyle. "The man was not of my faith. He was not of my skin color -- well, at least what I had as a human at the time -- and certainly not of my culture. It mattered not. I helped him just the same. Perhaps those differences seem almost trivial now. They should. We were all children of God then, and we still are now. He does not turn His face away from us just because some of us have hooves, horns, and wings."
Lyle glanced at Mark again. His expression had changed from sour to stoic. There had been an incident of a man bringing a gun to a service at one of the other churches. Fortunately one of the unicorns present acted fast enough to yank the gun out of his hand before he could fire. Lyle would rather not be forced to put his magical talents to use in that regard.
"I certainly know and understand the pull ponies have to come together in their own communities," Lyle continued. "But in my mind, it is vastly overshadowed by a greater need. We cannot have two separate worlds. It will never work. We need to stop thinking in terms of humans and ponies and think in terms of beings united not just in Christ, but for our own common cause. Until someone invents a better term, we must expand the term 'humanity' to encompass all of us. If we do any less, we do so at our own peril."
So perhaps this sermon had turned a little more lecture-y than his usual fare. He felt it necessary. Sometimes, it was best to point out the elephant in the room. That he left much of his congregation with thoughtful looks was encouraging.
He presided over the rest of the Mass, once more glad that a guiding hand -- or perhaps hoof -- had made him a unicorn. It certainly made Communion rites easier to perform than it would have been with hooves.
After the concluding rites, Lyle did what he did after every Mass: stand at top of the steps to the church and greet those who filed out. As a human, he would shake hands with those who wished to do so. He still offered his hoof to any who would want the contact, but in the first weeks after his transformation, only the ponies would take him up on it. Slowly, a few humans braved it, and that morning, a lot more had.
Perhaps he had gotten through to them after all.
Finally, it was down to Mark. Sitting in the back of the church, he could have been one of the first out, but he specifically waited until the rest had left. Lyle admitted to a little wariness but didn't show it. When the man came to him, his expression was uncertain. He took off his hat and fiddled with it. "Uh ... nice preaching there, Father," he finally said in a subdued voice.
Lyle smiled and nodded. "Thank you."
Mark scratched his head. "Look, um, if I ever seemed riled up at ponies, it's because my family lost their ranch. It was everything to us. I know it's not the ponies' fault, but sometime's a man's gotta have an outlet for his feelings, you know? Even if it's not the smartest outlet."
"I understand," said Lyle.
"I wasn't expecting to hear what you said in your sermon. I was expecting you to go on about humans being more like ponies. Something like that."
"I realize some ponies are like that," said Lyle. "Ponies can be different from one another. And that, in turn, makes them not too unlike humans."
"Yeah, I think I see what you mean," said Mark. "It's gonna take awhile before I can get chummy with them, you know?"
"I realize it will take time. It won't be solved overnight. We have a long road ahead of us, my son, even if we started working together right away. It's not going to be easy. Faith in God is almost easy compared to faith in ourselves."
Mark nodded, fiddled with his hat for a moment, then thrust his hand forward.
Lyle smiled and placed his hoof against he man's palm. "God bless you, son."
"You, too, Father," Mark said.
"I can't believe you're going to go through with this!" James cried.
Jenny did not respond right away. She sat by the suitcase she was packing, having refused assistance by her mother whose horn could have likely finished this task already. Draped over her fore-hooves was what had been one of her favorite shirts as a human, one depicting a fairy surrounded by an enchanted forest. She had retrieved it from their old house once the military had pulled out of what was once Lazy Pines.
She sighed and tried to fold the shirt as best she could. She had wanted to do this packing herself to help further emphasize that her decision was the right one. Her heart ached just the same as she heard the plaintive tone to James' voice. "We've been over this already," Jenny finally said in a low voice. "Stop trying to make it harder."
James stomped a hoof. "Since I think you're making a huge mistake, I'm damn well going to make it harder for you."
Jenny rose to her hooves and spun around. "Now who's being selfish?"
James' pupils shrank slightly. "What are you talking about? I'm only thinking of you."
"You sure about that?"
"Jenny, you told me yourself, the night ponies have been helping you ever since that enchantment holding back your memories was dispelled. You won't have that anymore as a human!"
Jenny took a deep breath and tried not to shudder. The night ponies had tried several times to reach the minds of humans as they slept to no avail. Their abilities apparently worked only on fellow ponies. "I can deal with a few nightmares," Jenny muttered.
"But the point is, you don't have to," James insisted.
"I've explained this to you before," Jenny said in a tired voice. "Dispelling that enchantment did more than just unlock those traumatic memories. It made me really remember what it was like to be human."
"What, and suddenly you don't feel comfortable as a pony anymore?"
Yes, she did still feel comfortable in her pony body. She could have easily stayed in it for the rest of her life. "You still don't seem to understand, James, and I'm getting tired of explaining it to you."
James stepped closer. "Try me one more time."
Jenny frowned and stepped back, foiling his attempt to get her to better breathe in his scent. That always seemed to calm her, but right now, she wanted to remain riled up. "Being comfortable with this body doesn't mean I'm comfortable with myself, and I'm not at all comfortable with how I got here. I was forced into this, and I need to decide for myself what I want."
"But if you go back to being human, you won't want to be a pony again. I don't even know if you could change back."
"The point is not to change back! Again, you're not getting it!"
"Your whole family are ponies," James insisted. "Your parents, your sister, Bob--"
"Bob simply hasn't decided yet."
"Oh, come on. He says that, and then he comes up with yet another new spell every week. I'm telling you, he's going to stay pony."
"Don't go thinking you know his mind any more than you know mine," Jenny declared. "And I'll have you know that my family supports my decision. Why the hell can't you?!"
Jenny had not realized she had started yelling until the silence that ensued seemed so stark, James staring at her with glistening eyes and one fore-hoof raised as if feeling the need to bolt. He finally set it down and said in a quavering voice. "Because ... I'm in love with you, Jenny."
Jenny's pupils shrank to near pin-pricks. "What??"
James swallowed and looked away. "I-I'm sorry, maybe I should've told you earlier, maybe it would've mattered."
Jenny felt her throat tighten. She realized she should have seen this coming. Even back before the rehumanization drive started, she suspected his feelings for her ran deeper than she had wanted to believe.
"How are we supposed to pursue any sort of relationship if you become human?" James demanded in a shaky voice. "You'll be in a completely different world than me."
Despite all the push to get ponies to interact with humans more, there were still those like James and his family who would prefer to remain in their own little pony world. They saw nothing wrong with pretending that only other ponies mattered in their immediate lives.
She sometimes wanted to remind him that the first settlement -- now going under the unofficial name of Pony Hope until the US government formally recognized it -- had a devil of a time remaining where they were. They had become briefly embroiled in a dispute with humans over water rights, a contentious topic in Colorado even in the best of times. The federal government had stepped in with temporary solutions while they helped rewrite the laws, but so far no one was satisfied.
Yet this was all a distraction, an easy way for Jenny to refuse to deal with the problem. She could chastise herself for not dealing with this sooner, or even blame him for not revealing his feelings to her sooner, but that would be just avoiding the issue as well.
Jenny took a deep breath. "James, I'm sorry," she said in a much softer voice. "I like you. I really do. But ... I just ... I just never felt that way about you."
James gave her a hurt look, and his eyes still glistened, but thankfully he managed not to tear up. "I guess maybe I should've seen that," he said in a low voice.
"I like you as a friend," said Jenny. "You're a very good friend. You listen to me when I have to rant. You don't judge me when I tell you how I feel."
James considered. "If you delayed your decision to rehumanize, maybe you--"
"It won't change anything."
James lowered his gaze, his ears drooping.
"It won't be fair to you," said Jenny. "And it won't be fair to other girls who are interested in you."
James lifted his eyes and tilted his head. "What other girls?"
"I, ah, better not mention their names, but I have seen some making eyes at you."
James swished his tail. "But I don't want anypony else."
"I know, but you can't have the one you do want."
"But ... well ... wait, maybe we could make it work even if you're a human, I--"
"James, stop it," Jenny said. "After I rehumanize, I'm not likely going to be living here anymore. I'm not sure exactly where I will go at first, but I have to be among my own kind for a while. Certainly I'm going to visit often." She paused. "After all, it will play into what I'm thinking of doing with my life as a human."
"And what's that?"
"Help improve relations between humans and ponies."
James looked confused. "And just how does that play into your love of fantasy?"
Jenny smiled wanly. Having the complete story of her past laid out to her had not changed the fact that she still longed for her fantasies. That had been a sign that perhaps they were a natural part of her after all. "What's more fantastic than helping humans deal with little magical ponies in their midst?"
James gave her a faint smile. "I guess I can see that."
"Right now, I feel like I'm straddling two worlds," said Jenny. "In a way, considering the state of the world right now, that's not really a bad thing. But I need to feel more grounded in one or the other."
James stared.
"What?" Jenny inquired.
"It's just ... I don't know, it's like this is a side of you I've never seen before."
"What do you mean?"
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but ... you just seem a lot more, well, mature."
Jenny almost laughed. She thought back to the countless discussions she had had with her parents about that topic. None of them had worked. It had taken being transformed into a little pony to make her see the truth. "Maybe the girl you think you're in love with is the one that's not really me anymore. I've changed since we started going together as humans."
James tucked his tail between his hind legs. "I guess I was hoping we could be more like Tina and Bob."
"They have more in common than we do, than I think we ever did." Jenny paused. "And not to put too fine a point on it, James, but Tina would support Bob more if he decided to rehumanize. If you really want us to be more like them, give me that support."
James was silent for a long moment before he finally said. "I'll try. I really will."
Jenny let out a small sigh of relief. Despite how supportive her immediate family was, it would help having a friend outside that arena make the effort to understand and encourage her. When she had been transformed into a pony, she had no choice. This time, she was making a choice, and to her it felt tantamount to deciding to have some sort of huge elective surgery. She was about to disrupt her life again, and by her own decision.
She gave him a brief hug. "Thank you."
James managed a small smile at the contact, even if it were bittersweet. "How much time do we have? When are you going to do this?"
"In two weeks," said Jenny. "It was going to be in a few days, but we changed the appointment when my Dad found an opportunity to head to Grand Junction to see if he could reconnect with Aunt Mary and Grandfather George ..."
Harold was grateful when the old pickup truck finally came to a stop on the dusty road a few miles short of Grand Junction. His muscles ached from being bumped about on the badly rutted road. The healing wound on his flank where he had been grazed by a bullet still hurt. At least it wouldn't bleed anymore thanks to the unicorn he had encountered in a pony settlement outside Vail who had a healing spell.
"Here you go, buddy," said the beefy man at the wheel. "Far as I can take you."
Harold looked out the window, and his heart ached. He had not seen this place in years, and yet it seemed like it hadn't changed from that day he thought he had left it for the last time. "Thanks," he murmured as he fumbled for the door lock and pushed open the door.
He jumped to the ground with a loud clop of hooves, kicking up more dust. He reached up and slammed the door of the pickup shut, and the driver tipped his hat before heading off.
Harold shook himself vigorously until his coat looked less dulled by the dust, better revealing the stalks of grain that served as his cutie mark. It still left his mane looking a bit worse for wear, but that was to be expected considering this trip took him almost a week. Even if he had been able to count more on the generosity of humans willing to give him a lift, it belied the problem of the roads themselves.
Most interstate roads in the western states wound through mountains, and the most common hazard were rock-slides. I-70 alone was subjected to several during the course of a year, requiring men and equipment to clear, both of which were in short supply. It was worst in the spring and early summer with both the constant freeze-thaw cycles and the runoff from the melting snow, which was just when ETS and the immediate aftermath occurred. The Army Corp of Engineers had been assigned to clean up the worst of it until they were pulled off onto building Relief Centers. Only recently were ponies trying to pitch in to help.
Even where the roads had been cleared, the damage left behind had not been fixed yet in many areas. Ponies could clear big rocks, but not lay new asphalt or concrete.
Harold's heart pounded as he advanced further down the road. Despite his great earth pony strength, he felt very vulnerable as he recalled what Mary had described of armed men circling the farms and ranches as if they had become bunkers. He had already been shot at once when he chanced upon a small camp of survivalists.
The ponies of the settlements he had passed through who kept him supplied with food and water told more tales of small bands of humans who violently defended their land not just against ponies but human authorities who would seek to displace them. The National Guard had to be called in on multiple occasions.
He crested the hill, and at once he was taken with the sudden contrast.
The dusty roads had been testament to the greatest challenge of farming in this particular area: the fickle weather. Harold was always concerned for his father's welfare, and often kept abreast of the weather conditions. Before ETS hit, he had already known his father would have a tough season this year.
All that had changed. Before him spread a luxuriantly green landscape, the crops already up and ripening, far more advanced than what they had done back in Pony Hope.
The place was indeed guarded; he just had not expected the guards to be ponies.
Two massive stallions, an earth pony and a pegasus, stood guard at the road winding into the farmland. The earth pony had gray-green fur and a brown mane, the mark of a cracked boulder on his haunches. The pegasus had a sea-green coat and light blue mane, his mark that of water misting over tilled soil. They didn't carry weapons per se, but the earth pony looked stronger than even Harold, and the pegasus had huge wings to match his stature. They were not ponies he would want to get on the wrong side of.
That was precisely what did not happen. At the sight of Harold, they smiled, and the earth pony gestured, saying in a deep voice, "Come, friend, you are welcome here."
Harold trotted towards them, still feeling a bit wary, especially when he saw that the earth pony wore a pendant shaped like Sunset's cutie mark.
"If you are in need of food or shelter, we'll be happy to provide," said the pegasus. "We ask only that you assist us in return."
"I'd be happy to help as long as I'm here," said Harold. "Though I'm not staying all that long."
"We have enough ponies to sustain us for now," said the earth pony. "We have enough food and water that we can provide for some of your return trip. My name is Strong Hooves, and this--" He gestured towards the pegasus and gave an amused snort. "--is Jim."
The pegaus Jim rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I haven't quite bought into the whole pony naming thing. Lemme 'lone."
Harold managed a weak laugh. "Don't feel bad, Jim, I haven't quite either. Name's Harry Tanner."
Strong tilted his head. "Tanner? George's boy?"
Harold's heart leapt. "Yes! George Tanner is my father. Is he here?"
"Oh, yeah, he's here," said Jim. He chuckled. "And as ornery as he ever was."
"I'm here to see him. I wanted to find out how he's doing."
"Yeah, no worries," said Jim. "Hell, I'm sure your sister Mary will want to see you as well."
"If you want to see her that is," Strong said in a suddenly cooler voice.
Jim sighed. "Oh, don't go there again, Strong. Harry here is family."
"What's going on?" Harold said in a wary voice.
Strong frowned. "Let's just say we've heard some rather unsavory things about how humans are treating ponies. We've had this land as humans for generations. We're not moving, period. We don't give a shit that 'earth ponies can make any land good.' If humans want our surplus, they're welcome to it, but we demand a little respect in return."
Harold glanced between the two massive ponies. "I take it you've had some run-ins already?"
"Yeah, unfortunately," Jim admitted in a sad voice. "One of us was killed. That was before your sister showed up."
"So you can understand why we were reluctant to take her in," said Strong. "But George was insistent that we did."
Harold pieced this together in his head. So his sister Mary was human and his father was pony. "I'd really like to see her, too."
Jim turned to Strong. "I'm supposed to go off-shift in a few anyway. Mind if I knock off early and show Harry around?"
"It's been quiet today, it should be fine," said Strong.
Jim nodded his thanks and swept a massive wing around Harold. "This way."
Harold glanced back at Strong Hooves before leaning closer to Jim and saying in a low voice, "Is he always like this?"
"Try not to take him too seriously," Jim replied in an equally low voice as he folded his wing against his side. "He's bought lock, stock, and barrel into the whole idea that this pony thing was humanity's salvation or whatever. Frankly, I thought his beliefs were a little out there even before all this happened."
"And what about you?" Harry asked.
Jim shrugged. "Me, I've been doing farming all my life. I was an irrigation specialist." He laughed and opened his wings briefly. "Ha! Still am! So I just rolled with it. Beats having to set up and maintain expensive equipment."
Even though Harold had committed himself to remaining as he was -- indeed, he received his cutie mark the moment he had made that decision -- he still tried to take nothing at face value. Both the alien ponies and Bob had helped him question exactly what the future of ponies on Earth would be. It certainly was no longer as cut and dry as it had seemed to be that morning after the vision.
"I have to admit, I feel a little bad for Mary," said Jim. "I think she feels out of her element. She can't do things nearly as well or as fast as the earth ponies, so doing actual farming here didn't work out. Only reason I think she's here is to be close to George until she figures out what she really wants to do or where she can go."
"Just how much of Grand Junction was affected?" Harold asked.
"About half the population. Most of the humans have started to move away. No jobs for them. It's becoming more of a ghost town every day."
That saddened Harold. Some of his fondest memories as a kid had been taking the occasional excursion into town, usually to treat themselves to dinner at a restaurant or to drive over the Colorado National Monument.
"I've heard some ponies talking about trying to reclaim parts of the town for themselves," said Jim. "Even going so far as to replace the houses with ones sized more for us. Don't know if it'll go anywhere, though. You'd be surprised how many people or banks or whatnot claim they still own all the property when nopony's using it. Ridiculous, if you ask me."
"Isn't that the same that you and your fellow ponies here are doing?" Harold asked. "Claiming you still own the land?"
"We're here and still working this land, they're not," said Jim in a more serious tone. "Big difference."
Harold decided not to pursue the point further, for they had turned down another very familiar road which led to one of the small buildings provided for hired hands living on the property. His heart lurched when he saw the very familiar form of his sister sitting just outside the cottage, her long sun-bleached blond hair tied into a single loose braid that seemed to glow in the sunlight. A wide-brimmed hat adorned her head, shading her blue eyes. Her nimble fingers were working needle and thread as she appeared to be patching a work glove.
"Hey, Mary!" Jim called out.
Mary lifted her head. "Heya, Jim. What's up?" Her eyes shifted to Harold. "Who's your friend there? Another visitor from the settlement near Palisade?"
Harold surged forward a few steps and said before Jim could respond, "Mary, it's me, Harry!"
Mary's fingers stumbled in her shock, and she uttered a muted "ouch!" as she stuck herself with the needle. She bolted to her feet. "Holy shit, li'l bro, is that you??"
Before Harold could respond, she closed the distance, crouched, and pulled him into a massive hug.
"Mary, wait, I haven't had a bath in a while," Harold said, though his voice quavered with both excitement and relief.
"I don't care, Harry," Mary said in a shaky voice. "I'm just glad you're okay."
"I could say the same for you. You never got ETS? Last time I talked to you, you had the start of the flu."
Mary broke off the embrace, smiling, her eyes glistening. "My flu took long enough to resolve itself that I got hit with that wall of light they said was the cure. So it never happened to me."
"But it sounds like Dad didn't avoid it."
Mary rolled her eyes. "That old goat wound up keeping from me the fact that he was coming down with the flu ahead of me. He's just too damn good at pretending he's not sick. So he got there first and started transforming."
Harold paused as he worked out the math in his head. "But he couldn't have been more than partially transformed when the cure was distributed. Couldn't he have had it reversed?"
"Harry, the brutal facts are that they couldn't get everywhere all at once," said Mary. "They had to pick and choose where they could get the most benefit until they got rid of the remaining transformation magic. Deep here in 'pony country' was not one of them. By the time they did drain that magic, he was fully pony. Besides, he was loathe to go to a doctor in the best of times, and that really didn't change." She smirked slightly. "Though maybe this was good for him in the end. It softened him up just a bit. Not much, mind you."
"Do you think he'll want to see me?" Harold asked.
"I honestly don't know. He's, um, avoided the topic whenever I brought it up."
Harold's ears drooped. "I came all this way, I can't just go back now. I have to see him."
Mary grinned and ruffled Harold's mane. "I never said you shouldn't. Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, I want to do this alone." Harold turned to Jim. "That includes you as well."
"Hey, no worries," said Jim. "If Mary vouches for you, that's good enough for me. I trust you know the way?"
Harold turned away from them. "Certainly. This place hasn't really changed, ponies or no."
It didn't take long for Harold to wish he had taken Mary up on her offer. Everything was indeed so familiar that it tugged at his heart and threatened to make him tear up. He had not seen this place ever since his final row with his father; it had been a bitter association, one of the reasons he had never gone back.
Despite having looked at the vision in a new light, one thing was indeed clear: he had not been honest with George behind his reasons for leaving the farm. His only excuse was that he had not been honest with himself, either.
He trotted along the narrow road that ran alongside his father's property. The next break in the fence would be where the feed trucks came in delivering grain for the chickens. He could easily jump the fence, but he wanted to respect his father's property.
Memories clouded his thoughts, of a little kid running along the fence, seeing how fast he could make it from one corner of the property to the other. He'd race his friends, and almost always beat them. They'd pretend to be soldiers, and the dirt road was a critical location behind enemy lines that they had to take. Or it would be cops and robbers, except everyone wanted to be a robber, so they were a gang on the run from the law.
"Hey, stranger."
Harold was so startled by the voice that he nearly stumbled as he whirled around, and his breath caught.
Approaching him from the other side of the fence was a hearty earth pony stallion with almost the same red coat as himself, except a shade darker. His mane was brown streaked with bits of gray. His eyes were deep amber. On his haunches was a cutie mark of a hoe and a shovel crossed over one another.
If Harold had not heard the voice, somehow he would have known that was his father. His throat closed up too tight to speak at first.
"Looking for work?" said George Tanner as he stopped at the fence. "I could use a few more hooves to work the flood ditches. Hmph. Those fancy-winged pegasi say they can put the rain anywhere I damn well want, but nothing beats being prepared. I ..." He trailed off. He sniffed the air. "Wait. Why ... why do you smell familiar?"
"Dad, it's me!" Harry blurted.
George's pupils shrank, and he backed up a half-step, his mouth dropping open. "H-harry?" he said in a small voice.
Harold swallowed hard and nodded.
"But ... y-you ..." George frowned slightly. "You have a lot of nerve coming back here now after all this! After you left me all those years ago claiming you didn't want the life of a farmer anymore, and now you show up with that cutie mark and expect me to ... t-to just forget that you ever ... that ... I ..."
With his own emotions in turmoil, Harold failed to hear the anger in his father's voice quickly break down. "Dad, I'm sorry I never told you the truth about why I really left. I don't want to go into that right now. I just wanted to know you're safe and--"
Harold never finished his sentence, as he was startled by his father's mis-timed jump that took part of the wooden fence down when his rear hoof caught. At first, Harold thought George had simply stumbled into him when he landed, until he felt his father's fore-legs wrapped tightly around him.
"I've missed you, son," George said in a choked voice. "God as my witness, I've missed you."
Harold had no words. He simply hugged his father in return. Explanations and reconciliation could wait. What mattered now was this moment.
Harold fervently believed that moments like this would be the light on the otherwise dark and forboding long road ahead.
THE END
(for now ...)