Letter to my Future Self
Dear...Myself, whatever I change my name to.
I'm sure you're reading this, remembering vaguely what you wrote, remembering as if your life were a dream before all that's happened to you. I hear the same story from the others who go into those blasted checkpoints, the ones who go in like men, and come out like...ponies.
This is so weird, writing to you. You used to be me. I've yet to hear of anyone complain about the process. It's painless, and other than the new body, nothing inside their heads change. That's what they say at least, and I know a few people who've gone through it already, people who have changed into three foot tall equines.
Yet, for all that they claim to be themselves, the change is unmistakable. They don't act like people anymore. The changed diet is to be expected, of course. After all, you're going from an omnivore to a herbivore. Well, most of us anyway. I've heard tell there's some place you can get turned into other things, from griffons, to buffalo, to even blasted dragons.
I'm not going to seek them out though. I don't know of anyone who's come back from that, and I really don't have enough time anymore. The magic in the air, it feels electrifying now. It's like a constant static electric charge. But I've seen what happens to those who are too close to this sort of thing for too long.
You either die, your body burning itself out by taking in too much at a time, or worse, you turn into some megalomaniac monster who has to be stopped while declaring themselves ruler of the world. I've seen those too, and they frighten me. No, I have to do this now. But that frightens me too.
Jill, now Heart Warmer, suggested this. That I write a letter to myself. That I remind me of who I used to be. She seems herself, mostly, even if she does try to get a bit too friendly with everyone now. She was an extrovert before, however, and I can see her finding that new form as a bit of freedom, so I don't want to ask her the question that I think every time we talk.
Are you still you anymore? Am I still me anymore? The you, reading this. Do you remember high school? Do you remember those days playing DnD in the library with our friends? We would go on make believe adventures. We slayed dragons(Well, they tended to slay the other guys, but we at least survived by running away), and we told epic tales of heroics.
Do you remember losing family to old age? Do you remember the scares with mom, until those final days? Do you remember dad crying into your shoulder? Do you remember the scent of Victoria's hair as you cry into her's? These are the things I'm afraid of losing, the things that make me me. So I'll leave these memories here, so they aren't lost.
You know, it's funny. This whole thing with the Bureau is kind of like an old Outer Limits episode I watched as a kid. In that, the sun was turning blue, but they didn't realize it, and music from a distant star was being sent out to change us humans into a form that could take the new light. I'd almost completely forgotten about it, until that day.
Equestria, land of magic and ponies appeared in the middle of the ocean. It was nobodies fault, they all said. Rumors flew, of course, about secret teleportation experiments, I even heard someone mention that ship from the Philadelphia experiment, the Eldridge.
Others cried invasion, saying the ponies came to conquer us, that they had done so many times. Yet, anyone who saw the videos of them adapting to a life with low magic, as their power waned, could tell you that was a lie. No, this was some accident, plain and simple. Someone, somewhere, had misplaced a zero and a one, be they god, man, or pony, and we were forced to pick up the pieces.
Then the magic started coming back. First a little at a time, simple unicorn spells worked, pegasi could fly again, and earth ponies could raise crops by just stamping their hooves. Then it got stronger, and we saw the first human die, and the first one change into an magical magnet. We had to adapt or die. That's how the world works sometimes. So we adapted.
The Conversion Process, developed by humans, but maintained by Ponies, was a way to survive. It was small scale at first, but now whole cities, countries, and even continents are changing. It's supposed to be reversible, if the magic ever fades, yet almost all who undergo the treatment say they're happier like as they are now than they ever were in their old lives.
The Resistance doesn't trust them though. Even if they Process was made by humans, it seems too good to be true. It could have been some kind of mind control suggestion or something. Or maybe the ponies corrupted it somehow, and are manipulating all of us, into becoming more of them.
I don't know the answer to any of these questions. I don't even know what the questions are. I just know that if I want to survive the next week, I have to change. Here's hoping whoever I turn into remembers these things, and know who they were, and who they want to be in the future.
With all wishes for long live,
Your Human Self