//------------------------------// // Intermission: The Other Side of Up // Story: The Education of Clover the Clever // by Daedalus Aegle //------------------------------// Draft for an entry in a revised edition of The Other Side of Up, by Swirl the Bearded, Star; Cordelia, Clover. “Changeling.” Equis Proteus. Once the realm of legend and myth, I, and my apprentice, have now proven that this remarkable creature is in fact very real and living among us in the present day. My research has revealed that the old belief that Changelings draw nourishment by leeching off the positive emotions of their victims, on account of which Changelings have been known to steal away and replace beloved ponies, appears to be entirely correct. A Changeling, if kept away from a supply of positive emotions, will grow weaker, much like a pony who goes without regular food. With the assistance of the test subject, who has told me his name among his kind is Tarsus, I have experienced the feeding process first-hoof. It is an interesting sensation: it pierces directly into the deep mind without passing through matter beforehand, using subtle Changeling magic that has been honed over countless years so as to be nearly unobservable to ponies. Only because I was forewarned, and consciously aware of it (and because Tarsus, being starved, was in no mood to go slowly or lightly) was I able to clearly observe the effects upon the object of feeding. Having prepared a feeling of happiness, I felt myself growing inexplicably irritated at various extraneous circumstances of the day as Tarsus fed. Mustering a satisfied contentment at the progress on repairs of my home, I felt it swiftly slip away into nothing. Whatever positive emotions I could conjure were drained out of me, leaving me exhausted and irritable. The effect of the feeding on Tarsus was no less remarkable. Before my eyes he went from a limp, pallid creature to something strong and vigorous. I thought he might resume his resistance to my research with his restored strength, but happily he proved pliable, and I began to interrogate him about the nature of his kind. As is told in old mares’ tales, Changelings survive by stealing away ponies and replacing them with one of their own, who so expertly mimic their victim as to be nearly impossible to recognize. Their favored target is somepony like the poor mister Sprout, a beloved family member who lived a blessed life of joy and warmth with those close to him. Once a Changeling is so positioned, it begins to parasitically drain the joy and warmth from those around them. If the Changeling goes undiscovered, this process can continue over months or even years depending on the temperament of the Changeling and the needs of the hive, until the previously joyful and loving family is reduced to an empty shell. Over time, the ponies around the Changeling are filled with bitterness and resentment for reasons they cannot understand or explain. When there is no more joy and love for the Changeling to consume, the family unit naturally and inevitably collapses. This then gives the Changeling a natural means of leaving his victims behind, and returning to the hive to begin the process anew. The Changeling can store the excess love they consume in a highly magically-charged mucus residue, which my apprentice insists on calling “Changeling honey”, which is carried back to the hive to feed the others. The victim who was replaced is also taken back to the hive for the brood to drain of such sustenance they can find in him. Since a Changeling's victim is not normally inclined towards positive emotions, they are encased in cocoons where they are put in magical slumber; in this state, they are more amenable to produce the feelings the Changelings require. Unless the hive is uncovered and destroyed, the victims remain in this state until they die. Death by cocoon can take a very long time: according to Tarsus, a pony can survive within for decades. An old pony might conceivably be rescued from his slumber to learn that most of his life and all the happiness he experienced in it was only a parasitic dream. According to Tarsus, hives can be greatly varied in size, from a handful of individuals to a disturbingly large number. However, the demands of an individual Changeling is such that it is rarely possible for a large number of them to coexist. Like any parasite, Changelings need a supply of healthy hosts with a population much larger than their own in order to prosper. Tarsus tells us that the legends of his people tell of vast Changeling colonies numbering hundreds, or even thousands of individuals, which devour entire cities whole before moving on to fresh territory. He speaks with great reverence of the mythical home of the Changeling race, a vast underground city a million strong, known to them as “Guise”. Their legends tell them to await the return of the Great Queen, who was once brought low but who will someday come again to rebuild Guise and make all other living creatures of the world into a banquet of the swarm. Stars protect us if ever such a hive arises in our time. Tarsus also tells me that while “in skin” as his kind call it, Changelings will feed lightly and discreetly from their victims, and that this causes no injury. However, I observed upon myself that when a Changeling feeds without concern for being discovered the process does violence to the mind of their victim. It was nothing I could not repair, but a rapacious Changeling can reduce a pony to a mental wreck without laying a hoof on them. As the Changeling race depends on their ability to survive and feed undetected, Changelings will mercilessly destroy any of their number who displays lacking restraint in feeding. This fills the dual purpose of removing Changelings who threaten the integrity of the hive, and of instilling fear and obedience into all its fellows. It is no wonder Tarsus fought so resolutely against my efforts to uncover his secrets. He knows that if ever he returns to his kind they will surely kill him for his treason. Even now he is reluctant to answer more than the absolute minimum required to end the conversation. Clover’s notes: The Professor has released Tarsus from the cage, and is allowing him to roam freely through Canterlot House (though not outside). At first this was highly unsettling, but after a while I got used to him and he turned out to be quite pleasant once I got to know him a bit. The Professor tells me this is a predatory instinct to put his prey at ease, but I think he’s just being nice. I have asked Tarsus about his life among his own kind. He is extremely reluctant to speak about it, but it does not sound like it was pleasant, even for him. I’ve wondered if it was possible for a Changeling to live openly among ponies without having to abduct and replace somepony. I asked him, if a Changeling could make a large enough group of friends, could it survive on their emotional energy without hurting them? Tarsus said that it was possible, but he found the idea very difficult to comprehend, and he and the Professor agreed that it will never happen. Star Swirl's notes: Changelings are parasites, and like any parasites they depend upon a healthy population of their host species. Since the preferred food of Changelings is love, does it not stand to reason that Changelings might not only consume it, but also cultivate love as a renewable resource? To act as love farmers, in a sense? If we could domesticate them, and harness their powers, we could conceivably fill the world with love. Imagine the terrors that would be defanged, the evils that would be undone in one stroke. I am speculating. Tarsus does not seem a promising suspect for inspiring love. As Changelings are rare and ponies are plentiful, it is possible that they have never been at risk of overgrazing their prey. Perhaps they would need to form a massive swarm before adapting such a mechanism. Or, perhaps invasive magical engineering will allow me to create one. Clover's notes: Drink your tea and calm down, Professor.