11. Life Is Merely Terrible
I.D. INJECTOR DOE
That Indestructible Something
By Chatoyance
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11. Life Is Merely Terrible
"Life is merely terrible; I feel it as few others do.
Often - and in my inmost self perhaps all the time -
- I doubt that I am a human being."
- Franz Kafka
The dark-haired woman on the screen said her name was Nadzieja. She was in her late middle ages, had a bit of an accent, and reminded Rachel of an economics instructor she had liked. Serious but warm, was how Rachel put it later.
"Mr. Crown is concerned with your well being, miss Priss. Also that of your friend, miss Samson. This is good thing, I assure you. He has arranged for certain items of usefulness to be delivered to you. These are for your benefit, and nothing is expected in return. It would be in your interest, I am thinking, to listen to what he has to say. I am working for Mr. Crown now for two years, I have found him to be most excellent as an employer, and in every way a good man."
Gregoria shifted in her chair, she was sitting upright, trying very hard to appear human. It had become clear within moments that the woman on the screen could not see either of them as ponies. More than that, she did not seem to know anything about what had happened to them. They had expected quite the opposite, considering the note on the card, and almost gave themselves away.
Rachel sat on the linoleum, there was little else she could do. She sat upright though, with her hooves on the table as if she were resting hands there.
It was noteworthy, though, that Nadzieja had not considered it the least bit strange, during the initial confusion at the start of the video call, when Gregoria had asked her what she saw when she looked at them. She saw Gregoria as a dark-haired woman, and Rachel - as they suspected - as a very tall, very blond woman. Though she rattled off the descriptions as if being asked to describe such things were a daily activity for her, she did ask a curious question afterwards.
"I would ask you a question, if I may. This wanting to know what you look like, this is some kind of password, correct? I am not privy to such things, so it is being wasted on me. I answer, as I always do, but whatever this means, I am not member. I say this just to make things clear between us, so that there is no suspicion in you."
Rachel just looked at Gregoria who shrugged. Everything was starting to sound like a spy movie now, and Nadzieja's comment did not make either of them feel less suspicion at all. There was nothing to do but to play along in any case, so Gregoria simply turned back to the screen and tried to sound confident. "We... appreciate that... admission."
"Yeah! All suspicions are allayed! No suspicions here! Right Greggy?" Rachel was not the best actress.
"Um... yeah. Rodger dodger on that." The minute she said it Gregoria regretted it. There was no way either of them were sounding like they were in on any secrets at all. The bemused look on the woman's face on the screen only seemed to rub that little fact in.
"Good! Mr. Crown will be contacting you at ten, precisely. Please be present at this time. And remain at home, the delivery will be soon, and I am told that it will be very much what you need. I am happy to have been meeting you, and I wish you a good day."
The screen went dark, and the custom app that made communication possible shrank, leaving them at the desktop. The customized iMac had very little actually installed on it. There was, however, one folder down on the row of icons at the bottom that brought tears to Rachel's pony eyes. It was photographs of Rick, taken in Afghanistan, images that he had never lived to bring home to her.
The images must have come from the cellphones or other personal electronics of the members of Rick's platoon. He had several friends among his Squad that he spent time with. Rachel recalled Thomas the Limey, with the British accent, Well-Hung Chung and Chucker The... well.
Rick smiled back at her in his fatigues, barechested in a tent, grinning while shaving, Chung reflected in the mirror taking the picture with a Nokia. She couldn't look at the image on the screen any more, because everything was blurry now, and she had to drop down to the floor because it was hard to cry sitting up like a human.
Warm forelegs embraced her, it was Gregoria, trying to hold her, trying to hug her huge body. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I can't know what if feels like, but... I... I care. I wish I could help somehow!"
And the odd thing was, Gregoria knew she really meant it. She did care. She did want to help and she had no idea how to do so. She no longer knew if this was just her pony brain manipulating her, or if her human mind would have done the same thing. She wasn't sure she cared. Her friend was in pain, in grief, and she wanted to help, and it didn't matter now if old Gregoria would have bothered or felt the same way.
Gregoria held Rachel as tight as she could, considering how awkward it was to try to grasp a much larger pony in her forelegs. After a while, Rachel stopped crying, and with sniffles bent her head and gave Gregoria a grateful, sad-sweet smile. Somehow, holding her had been the right thing to do, apparently, and Rachel's tiny smile made Gregoria's heart feel like it was swelling up. It felt good, it felt somehow good to know she had helped her friend.
There was no fighting it, Gregoria decided. Pony kindness couldn't be denied, fighting her own brain was bound to be a losing struggle. And it felt good. Positive reinforcement had destroyed most of her internal resistance already. It felt good to be nice, it felt good to help, it felt good to be loyal, and it hurt to try to be selfish. The pony brain was not insidious, as she had thought, it was just what it was. It just thought... pony. And it had not escaped Gregoria that perhaps the reason she felt lonely in her human life was because she hadn't been a very good friend, and that just might be the reason she didn't have many good friends in return.
Just Rachel, really. Everypony else she had known in her human life really didn't care about her. And, truth be told, she hadn't really cared about them. They were just there, like objects. Expected accoutrements. You just had them, because. They could be traded, lost, and new ones obtained. They had uses - some for going shopping, some for seeing that new movie.
But Rachel had always been different. Rachel wasn't 'for' anything. She was just... she just... Gregoria couldn't find a word. But one thing could be said - Rachel couldn't be traded, or a new Rachel obtained. And losing her, as Gregoria had nearly done after Rick's death, would have been a catastrophe.
"Thank you." Rachel wiped her muzzle with her foreleg and sniffed again. "The pictures."
"I know. But at least you got to see him again, a little." Gregoria unwrapped herself from Rachel and lay down on the floor next to her.
"Yeah. Yeah." Rachel lifted her long Celestia neck, she was so large that even laying on the floor she could still look over the edge of the table to see the screen of the Mac. Rick's lathered face grinned back, his friend Chung behind him holding a phone. She lowered her head again. "I miss him, Greg. I miss... him."
Gregoria had nothing she could think of to say. What could be said? She deliberately let her pony instincts take over, relying on them now to fill the gaps within her. They could be trusted, she decided, for things like this. She found herself nuzzling Rachel, her head gently rubbing against the side of Rachel's neck and jaw. Rachel pressed her cheek against Gregoria's for a time. They just sat there, like that, and somehow it was right.
"Come on. Apparently we've got a shipment coming." Rachel was getting up now, slowly, carefully, so that she didn't tip the table over and break Mr. Crown's little 'present'.
Gregoria joined her, raising herself to her feet effortlessly. She felt some pride in finally mastering her new flesh, she could rise and lay down with confidence, and walking about was trivial now. She didn't have to think about how to move her body at all. It almost felt sometimes as if she had always been a pony. That had frightened her, now she was trying to see it in a practical light. There was no way to tell how long she would be this way. It only made sense to get good at it.
"What's the plan?" Rachel was moving to the closet, her horn glowing yellow. Gregoria watched as a broom and dustpan were floated out, each wrapped in separate golden fields of light.
"This place is a mess. If we're going to have more mysterious ninjas over, I don't want them to think we're messy ponies!" Rachel smiled and winked. "Ninjas are notoriously obsessed with cleanliness, you know."
Gregoria laughed. "I thought ninjas were obsessed with 'flipping out' and riffing on electric guitars while being totally awesome!"
There was still a tear on Rachel's cheek as she gave a soft chuckle. "I see you like the old stuff."
"Nothing on the internet ever goes away." Gregoria decided to try to help by holding the dustpan for Rachel. "Ee inheret ith ah hyutheum!"
"What?" Rachel hovered the broom to the side.
Gregoria set the dustpan, which she had been holding in her teeth, down. "I said the internet is a museum. There's all kinds of cool stuff to dig up. Internet archeology. I guess I'm an internet archeologist. Think I can get a grant to study Pre-4Chan Cultures?"
That made Rachel properly laugh. "I hear the Smithsonian is looking for a curator for the Hall of Memes, maybe you could get funding there! Planning an expedition?" The broom, covered in golden light, began sweeping the table, removing the evidence of their sloppy 'last meal'. Rachel's stomach grumbled with hunger at the sight of the bits of food.
Gregoria shifted the dustpan with a forehoof so that it might catch some of the falling debris from the table. "Yeah, the plan is to use the Tron Laser to enter cyberspace and explore the ancient ruins of Geocities on hoof. My plan is to use mail daemons as native guides and see if we can find the mysterious path through the serverlands to the fabled Internet Wayback Machine!"
Rachel began sweeping carefully into the dustpan while Gregoria held it and positioned it with her teeth again. "You did promise me you wouldn't write fanfiction earlier, right?" Rachel's grin was only slightly evil.
"Uffum Ooo, hoo."
"Such language from a sweet little pony!" Rachel seemed to be in a much better mood now, she had always been the sort of person who used activity to distract her from her feelings. "I would remind you who has the broom here?"
Shortly after the kitchen had been swept, and the table wiped and dried, the bell rang. Gregoria ran to the window and looked down onto the street. A large commercial truck had stopped in front of the apartment building. The end was open, a ramp was down, and several burly men were busy with hand trucks unloading things.
Rachel tried to peer through the lensed peephole in her door, but recoiled as her horn impacted the doorframe. Apparently alicorns weren't built to use peepholes. "Hello?" Rachel carefully touched a forehoof to her horn. It seemed to help with the strange sore-tooth throb.
"Delivery for miss Rachel Priss, apartment three-oh-two? From a mister Maloose Crown? Mayloose? Em-Aey-Ell..."
"YES, yes! That's for me!" Rachel approached the door and used a small blob of her golden energy to unlatch the many locks and finally open the door. She stepped far back as the door swung open, so that her large body would not block the entrance. Unfortunately, she was still not used to how long her frame was now, and she kicked over one of the chairs near the table. "Muffin!"
"Hello, sign here, please?" The man at the door held out a digital pen with one hand while presenting a pad-like device with the other. Rachel stared at the pen, unsure how to handle this problem. What would the man see if she took the pen in her teeth like a normal pony? Would it be better to use her telekinetic field? Would he imagine arms where none existed, or would he run screaming as the pen moved of its own accord, floating in the air? "Ma'am?" The man was waiting.
Gregoria had moved from the window to the door. She lifted her right forehoof and held it near where the man held the pen, then she took the pen in her teeth and quickly scribbled randomly on the electronic pad. She held the pen in her teeth until the man quietly took it back from her. Only then did she lower her right forehoof.
The man hadn't even blinked. Apparently, it was just enough of a suggestion to work.
Rachel grinned at Gregoria, as she righted the fallen kitchen chair with her magic while vaguely following the motion with a foreleg. She intended to remember Greggy's clever little trick.
Box after box was brought in and placed in the kitchen while Rachel and Gregoria sat, as best they could, on the couch together. Lastly, they noted with pleasant and impressed surprise the delivery of several bales of hay and several more of alfalfa. The delivery men were unsure where to put such bizarre items, but Rachel simply told them to stack them in the kitchen, near the cabinet, she would deal with it later.
"So, what, you have a goat in here or something?" Apparently his name was Antonio, and he and his brother owned the delivery company.
"It's... uh..." Gregoria thought quickly "Um it's actually for small theater. Local production, we're doing a version of Oklahoma. You know, the musical? We've got our own crew to take the stuff from here."
Antonio nodded. "I know a guy who does off-off-off broadway. Hey, if your crew craps out on ya, remember us, okay? We deliver."
"Um, yes! You certainly do! Thank you!" Rachel suddenly got up off the couch and maneuvered herself carefully into her bedroom. A few moments later she returned with a twenty from the little stash she kept under her mattress. She levitated the money beside her raised left hoof. Antonio took the bill with a smile. "And thank you. An' break a leg!"
Both ponies shuddered at the thought.
When the delivery men had driven off, Rachel and Gregoria began examining the contents of the boxes while snagging large mouthfuls of hay and alfalfa as they went. They were both starving, their bellies had begun rumbling like formula racers at the first scent of the hay coming up the three flights of stairs. Between bites, the two friends noted that the mysterious Mr. Crown had been most thorough in his consideration.
The boxes held containers of oats and other grains, which both mares began eating right out of the box. "Oh, sweet Luna, but I was soooo hungry!" Gregoria stuck her muzzle right into a cylinder of oats and munched happily.
"Oh sweet me, I'm still hungry!" Rachel watched Gregoria choke inside her tub of oats at that.
"*COUGH* *HACK* *COUGH* ...goodness... Ha ha ha... I thought you weren't Celestia!" Gregoria sniffed, and tried to clear her throat. "Hey! Juice! There's juice here. Whole fruit in this one!"
"Right now I'll be 'Morning Wood the Dress Club dancer', if it will get me more of this!" Rachel laughed and took another huge mouthful of alfalfa.
"Morning what?" Gregoria wasn't sure she had heard correctly.
Rachel finished chewing and swallowed, then took a glowing, levitated swig of carrot juice. "Fanfiction. The Bureau stories I told you about - the ones you don't like? Pony strippers put on clothing in them, instead of taking clothing off. You know, because they usually don't wear clothing."
"Um... yeah. Whatever. Hey!" Gregoria had just ripped the top off of a sealed cardboard box with her teeth. "I thought so! Bananas!"
"I'll send you to the MOOOOOON!" Rachel was grinning and filled with oats and merriment.
Gregoria blinked. "Huh?"
"I'll show you later."
The two sated mares lay on the main room floor, legs folded, nodding occasionally with stupefied satisfaction. They were truly, completely full. There was plenty of food left - and also a big mess to clean up. But they were full, there was food in the house, and for the moment at least, everything seemed fine.
The noble, exquisite, royal body of princess Celestia, solar prime diarch of the magical land of Equestria let out a long, quite stentorian burp. "So long as you have food in your mouth, you have solved all questions for the time being." she recited carefully, clearly from memory.
Gregoria lifted sleepy, overfed lids. "um... what?"
"Just a quote. From an old existentialist writer." Rachel smacked her pony lips. "That... was good."
Gregoria nodded. "Thank you, Mister Crown. I don't know who this pony is, but I like his style."
"Thank you. I am glad the selection was to your liking." The voice was artificial, a computer voice but a very good one. One of the expensive, high end voices that almost sounded completely natural. Almost. Rachel and Gregoria immediately woke from their post-feast torpor and stared at the modified iMac on the kitchen table.
It was ten in the evening. Precisely.
"Hello?" Gregoria was up, not quickly, but up - Rachel was still struggling to her hooves.
"Please, there is no need to rise on my account. I quite understand. My team has informed me that both of you have very likely been without sustenance for some time, please relax and be comfortable." There was no image on the screen. Mr. Crown could see them, but would not show himself, it would seem.
Rachel gave up trying to rise - her belly was very full, and she had been very comfortable - so she let herself sink down again. Gregoria stood for a moment, then gave in and folded her legs as well.
"You must be Mr. Crown, then. Thank you very much for the food. We actually haven't been hungry long, just a day - though it felt like a week, I have to say." Rachel looked in the direction of the iMac while she spoke.
"I think you will find that your Equestrian bodies prefer a large amount of food compared to your old human ones. Ponies are creatures of a world without scarcity, and their metabolisms reflect that." The artificial voice paused for a moment. "I am curious about your expedition to the Williamsburg Bridge yesterday. Did you find out anything interesting?"
Gregoria looked at Rachel, a concerned expression on her face. "You... know about that?"
"Yes. I waited until you left to send my team in. I mentioned that I had been observing you in my note, did I not?"
Gregoria tapped a hoof, nervously. "Yeah. You did." Rachel's ears dipped and lifted, somehow Gregoria understood that as a shrug. Gregoria looked up at the computer on the table. "I don't want to be rude here, we are really grateful for the food and everything, but... if you know what's going on, if you know how to fix us, we'd ...um... we'd really like to know."
The iMac was silent for what seemed a long time. "I believe I have a decent understanding of what has caused us all to change into equinoids from My Little Pony. I have been researching this issue very carefully now for several years, ever since my own transformation. The answer is quite... astonishing, and not easy to explain over an audio link."
Rachel frowned at this. "If you know something, just tell us!"
Again the computer was silent for some time, and Rachel wondered if she had angered their benefactor. "If I were to simply state the facts..." the artificial voice was smooth and even "...you would not be able to accept them. I do not mean to imply that you could not understand them, I feel confident that you could, especially you miss Priss."
"Hey!" Gregoria's eyes narrowed at the computer.
"What I mean is that the cause of this is quite extraordinary, and would be difficult to accept for anypony - without proof at every step of the explanation. I need you to comprehend what has changed you, because I have been waiting for a long time for you - or someone like you - to finally appear." Mr. Crown had apparently not noticed Gregoria's outburst. Or he had ignored it.
Rachel thought about this then shook her head. "I'm not Celestia! I may look like Celestia, but I'm not her. I can't raise the sun, I don't have the secrets of ponification, I can't send anypony to the moon. I just got stuck with Celestia's body. Don't expect any miracles."
Eventually the computer spoke. "You have much more power than you realize, miss Priss. The transformation does not overwrite our identity, as you have already discovered. But the change does strongly represent aspects of the cartoon, and the fandom, and levitation, flight, and affecting plants are only the beginning, I assure you.
"Miss Priss, could I ask you to confirm something for me, something private?"
Rachel blinked, surprised. "I... I guess so. How private?"
"Nothing overly intimate, I hope, anyway." The computer paused, then continued "Your... lover... Mr. Decker. His pet name for you... it was 'Celestia', correct?"
Rachel stared at the computer. "How... what? How do you know..."
"The answer to that, and much more besides, awaits you, if you will agree to visit me. I have a special home, safe from prying eyes, with acres of forest and grassland around it. It is my... little Equestria, if you like. I would like to invite you, and your friend, miss Samson, to come and visit me. We can meet face to face, and I will explain to you properly just how it is that you were changed into ponies.
"You will finally have answers to all of your questions, and you may also find out just what you can do with your Celestia body as well. And more than this, I have accessed the secrets surrounding your Mr. Deckard as well - and you may be surprised to learn that he is important in all of this. Will you be my guest?"
Rachel and Gregoria were now both standing up, their eyes both narrowed at the black-screen of the custom iMac.
Gregoria stomped her hoof. "What is with this MUFFIN' 'Dr. Horrible' routine, huh? Are you getting off on playing evil genius or something? How dare you..."
Rachel put a hoof gently against Gregoria's pony shoulder. Gregoria snorted, but fell silent, still breathing heavily. "You already know we have no choice. I cannot work, we will lose this apartment, and we have nowhere to go in the world. We tried to cross that bridge thinking it would take us to Equestria, thinking it would save us. It didn't work. The bridge doesn't go anywhere. Not anywhere else, anyway.
"We're grateful for the food, but I don't like the way you do things, Mr. Crown. Invading my apartment. Going through my things, probably. Not showing yourself, and using a fake voice. I don't like that one bit." Rachel did her best to control herself, but it was difficult. "You don't inspire confidence, this whole thing reeks of bad movies, but you already know I'll come. We'll both come, I suspect - you don't have to, if you don't want to, Greggy."
Gregoria shook her head. "I go where you go. But I think it's a bad idea, okay? I just want that on the record. This is a bad idea."
Rachel nuzzled her friend. "Thank you Gregoria."
The computer voice spoke. "I know this seems overly melodramatic, I do. But there is a very good reason for every bit of it, as you will find out when you get here. I sincerely apologize for all of your concerns, and I can offer nothing else but to ask that you try to trust me just a little. If our positions were reversed, and you had the resources, would you not send in a team to make certain everything was safe? It must have occurred to you that creatures such as ourselves are vulnerable and endangered among a world of humans? There are humans that know of us, unchanged humans, dangerous humans, and we are seen as a threat - and a resource - to them. Our situation is more perilous than you perhaps realize."
Rachel swallowed. "No, I didn't know that."
"It would be for your own benefit, as much as mine, for you to join me. I am well hidden from such humans, and with me, you would share in that protection. But I needed to be certain you were not bait for a trap."
"A trap?" Gregoria was stunned. She had been certain that the trap was Mr. Crown himself.
"Yes, miss Samson. There are those who would ...collect us. And such collection is not pleasant or desirable. Transport will arrive for you within the hour. You will be informed at the moment of their arrival. Expect a large, black truck with a green apple painted on the side. If anything else arrives, you would be advised to flee, however you can. If that happens, I will find you, in time."
Gregoria was still upset. "If it's that desperate or serious or whatever, why did you send us food and let us lay around until now? Why the big rush all of a sudden?"
The voice from the computer was still flat. "Because I needed to watch, and see if you were bait. Just like I said."
"Uh..." Gregoria looked at Rachel, who looked frightened now instead of angry. "...I guess... we'll be waiting. Black truck, green apple. Um... and... thank you... I guess."
"We will see each other soon." The computer voice paused. "With luck."
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Next Chapter,
12. Whatever We Have Not Sufficiently Desired,
we finally get some answers to the mystery. Stay tuned!
*nods* Yeah, yeah... no wait what? You lost me. I have no idea what's going on anymore, I thought I did but apparently I don't. Which is fine because I rarely know what's going on anywhere except in my head.
i'll show you now!
2692714
Goddess, how I love that.
2692719 well i'd assume if someone tried to kidnap her she'd offer them bananas, then banish them to the moon!
I forgot to state this, but Greggy being disallowed to write fanfiction is really funny!
Could make for an interesting test: Anyone who sees at most two plot holes with the initial idea should not write fanfiction. *Raises hand.* Dammit!
Also, soon the answers we have been waiting for!
2692666 You, ma'am, are a tease. A colossal tease. Just needed to get that of my chest. Have a
.
I think I'll start every conversation at the next meetup with "What do you see when you look at me?". This whole situation might work great as a roleplay.
Oh, and 2000 isn't "old stuff". That just ... ten years.
Ten years!
I'll go and cry a bit in my corner.
2692682
Bits of Earth, both living and not, are being ponified, apparently at random. It's been going on for decades, possibly centuries, and a perception filter keeps the unchanged from noticing the ponies and glorious pastel architecture unless they're forced to confront the cognitive dissonance. Next chapter, we'll start to learn why.
Gregoria laughed. "I thought ninjas were obsessed with 'flipping out' and riffing on electric guitars while being totally awesome!"
REAL ULTIMATE POWER
"Right now I'll be 'Morning Wood the Dress Club dancer', if it will get me more of this!"
*snerk*
At the risk of following the obvious train of thought: Rick wasn't killed, he was just disappeared for having two legs too many.
2693209
Thank you. FIXED!
Definitely glad you took this back up. I don't know what to expect! And I'm lovin' it.
This is a bad idea.
And everyone will be like "told you so" later.
Also we have I'd say 70% chances of the "transport" being off and not matching description.
How good am I at foreshadowing? O:
2693213 I do apologize for being a bother, but the year 2000 was 13 years ago.
Moves within moves. Signs. Politics. Profile building. Tells. Actions speak louder than words.
Home invasion. Distrust and lack of respect for privacy, personal boundaries. Reminder that they are not safe, that he could be very dangerous to them. The 'stick.'
Photos and food, the 'carrot.' Personal favor. Reminder of his power, knowledge, that he knows all about Rachel. That going along with him has benefits.
Request for cooperation. He is not completely in control of the situation. In light of home invasion, would likely not ask if he could simply take instead.
Warning of third parties. Creates additionally urgency. Encourages them to trust no-one.
Conclusions:
Subject is not acting in good faith. He is attempting to bargain, but placing himself in a position of power over the negotiations before doing so. May be afraid of Rachel's potential and attempting to preemptively cow her into submission with shows of strength early on. However, warning of third party involvement is likely genuine; enough impetus has already been created to compel them to movement even without this warning. Third party warning might still be a manipulation, however; an attempt to isolate them from any outside assistance by discouraging excessive contact. Have them seeing threats in every shadow, driving them further into a deal with himself, the 'known' factor.
It is also possible he is being completely truthful and forthright.
2695013
That was a magnificent analysis. I just wanted to mention that.
Ah, references, how I love you.~ The Bureau (haven't read them, not going to) and FIMB...I hope there's more.
Hmm. On one hoof, it seems like he's lying because he just stole her regalia. On another hoof, it could be that he stole them because he already knew she would leave them behind and he wants to be sure she doesn't lose them. You are a very clever writer.
(on yet another hoof he's clearly a changeling so I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVE ANYMORE)
3183945 what a8out the fourth and final hoof?
Interesting; maybe a trap (especially remembering that there's an predatory emotivore bug-pony at the other end) but, ultimately, Rachel and Gregoria are out of options.
"Everything was starting to sound like a spy movie now"
With the fleet of all-black vans and all-black cars and agents in black suits? And Mr. Crown's mysterious monitoring? And the mysterious woman with the eastern european name and accent who's careful not to know too much? Nah, I'm not seeing it. :)
I wonder if Chucker the Well did indeed go by that name when in polite company. Okay, probably not, but I found it a funny thought.
Oh, hey, I just realized! They're going to see Mr. Crown. Really see Mr. Crown. That ought to be fun to watch.
…Hm, unless he does use his shapeshifting…
The bananas thing confused me for quite some time, too.
Aw, and Mr. Crown hasn't turned his camera on. Or even set up a direct feed from his microphone. Spoilsport. :)
"I can't raise the sun"
Well… Have you honestly tried yet? I mean, as far as I know, you haven't really tested the extent of your powers much at all. Though… I can't actually think of a way to do that test safely (The Earth's tangential velocity at the equator is, according to a quick calculation, about 464 m/s; stop the Earth without stopping the atmosphere, and suddenly huge areas are experiencing supersonic winds, to name only one of the catastrophic climate characteristics. Oops. Rotating the Earth to raise the sun wouldn't be quite as bad, but still.), so…
"Are you getting off on playing evil genius or something?"
I'm pretty sure he is, actually. :D
So they're known? Hm. Well, that explains Rick's records being sealed, I suppose… But, like most things in this story, it just seems to raise even more questions! :D
4578819 The bananas thing is a reference to a video. I think it's called Celestia's Banana Song or Celestia is a banana or something like that. EDIT: Nevermind, the comments below had the answer.
Maybe i should check out the conversion bureau
It seems odd that our dear Mr. Crown is unwilling to show himself at this time. That actually disconcerts me a bit.
Well done.
As a side note, I noticed a pair of minor errors. I hate to be the grammar Nazi, but sometimes, I just can't help myself.
The first is a minor spelling error:
"I hear the Smithsonian is looking for a curator for the Hall of Memes, maybe you could get funding there! Planing an expedition?"
The second is just a problem of anatomy:
Gregoria was up, not quickly, but up - Rachel was still struggling to her feet.
Minor errors, but I felt like pointing them out. Thanks!
And as we get past that, It's fantastic so far. I can't wait to read the rest!
Niiice!
5066523
It took me forever, clearly, but I finally saw your comment - and I have fixed the errors. Thank you for pointing them out.
For some reason, this gave me the mental image of Rachel lifting gregoria up to the peephole with her magic, so she could look through for her. I wish i could draw, because i really need a picture of that now, lol