//------------------------------//
// Monoclad 
// Story: Society as We Know It 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

Several bits spilled from his bag. Quick to pick them up, he brought it inside his saddle bag and Monoclad resumed his flight under the night.
It was one peaceful night there—the cold air that permeated it all, the plants that remained still, the evening sounds of the animals that were awake, and that Monoclad was the only changeling on the path.
"There's something," Monoclad said to himself. "Just one more night, just another night." He looked up at the moon which was shining its bright glow. "And, there's the Princesses controlling how long or short the day and the night are." He sighed. "They could stay, but me? I still have some jobs in the morning." He put on a smile. "Come on, Monoclad. Different schedules—that's what it all is, nothing malicious."
He stopped in his tracks and took in some fresh air. He exhaled it with a long breath.
"I'm sure that didn't help things go smoothly along," Monoclad commented as he continued his walk towards the moss-decorated hive where he could see a few glimmers hanging around it, moving about and dashing.



Costumes and accessories being taken down as they were being scrubbed and rubbed clean, dusted off from any dry dirt by a hoofful of hard-working changelings who sweated through the neat ordeal. Beside them, there were carts of produce—apples, oranges, mangoes, pears, strawberries, cabbage, lettuce, onions, garlic, carrots—being hauled by more changelings, bringing upon the hive a slight smell of the harvest.
Over near a craggy wall, Monoclad sat down and watched it all unfold. His eyes widened and his ears perked up at the smell of food.
He flittered to one of the carts, eyeing his saddle bag.
A changeling flew right towards the side of the cart, immediately facing the incoming customer. "Why, hello, kind sir!"
"Yeah, hi," Monoclad said with less enthusiasm and joy in his voice.
"It's the midnight delivery!" the saleschangeling advertised, gesturing a hoof towards the assortment of fruits and vegetables, not to mention some sweets, settled on the cart. "Very fresh, I guarantee!"
"Just a few apples and a few pears and some cabbage," Monoclad said, opening his saddle bag and picking up the bag of bits inside with his mouth. He flung it at the saleschangeling who caught it, eyes wide open at the throw.
Monoclad got to the cart and gathered those few apples and those few pears and some cabbage, storing it inside another compartment of his saddle bag.
The saleschangeling, having counted the bits that were inside, threw the bag to the cart. "That's the exact amoutnt! No change! I'm impressed by your tidiness."
"I'm managing my resources," he said as he walked away. "I don't wanna waste my time."
The saleschangeling looked on at the leaving Monoclad. "Ah, someone who doesn't fumble around with loose change! Hm, did I say that correctly? Probably not." He only shrugged as he whistled along and stood by the cart, watching any passing changeling who came near to the cart.



In the morning

Big McIntosh stood in front of Rarity on the dirt path leading to the Castle of Friendship; they weren't that far off from the rest of Ponyville.
"It is...unsettling, to say the least," Rarity said, backing away from the burly Earth pony. "I am used to—no, I expect it to be this identical, but to see such a thing performed again? I have to get the negative motives for such out of my mind since I know and trust that you are doing this for nothing more than to entertain and to make some bits like you said."
Big Mac nodded, smiling at the mare.
"Although, it would only be complete if you managed to actually say something. If it's convincing enough, then I'd be simply amazed."
He gulped, cleared his throat, and took in a deep breath.
Rarity eyed his movements, having on her a scrutinizing look of half-open eyes.
"It's a lovely day outside, isn't it, Rarity?" Big Mac said in his deep voice.
Rarity smiled. She brought out a few bits and hoofed it to the pony.
Big Mac smiled, also, before a green light surrounded him, covering him. When it went away, a yellow changeling appeared in his place although retaining that same smile.
"It's surprising to think that this is a real job," Rarity said. "Using your ability to shape-shift and to disguise as a way to make money. I find it creative, if I were to be honest myself." She held her curled mane with a hoof. "Considering just how good you changelings are at that, I'm not surprised that you would fare well in plays—I would also not be surprised if a troupe of yours manages to get to Bridleway within a year!"
"Aww, that's too much for you, Rarity," Monoclad said.
Rarity nodded. "But, next time, don't go walking around disguised and telling other ponies that you're a changeling. You're bound to get some strange looks, not to mention making the actual pony you're disguised as garner an unneccesarily bad image if only for a while. That was quite unmannerly."
Monoclad nervously laughed at that, rubbing his front hooves as he avoided her gaze.
"But, again, you've done a good job deserving of well-earned bits. Now, if you excuse me, I must go."
Then, Rarity hastened her way to the castle, entering it with the doors opening by her magic.
Monoclad looked at the bits he had on his hoof. "Huh. This might end up being a nice occupation. An odd job, but it's a nice odd job nonetheless."
A smile appeared on his face.
Then, as soon as it appeared, it went away as he looked off at the many buildings of Ponyville with its ponies walking by here and there. "But, I don't want to do it too publicly—I'm certainly not a showpony. Well, I should be, but those crowds." He shuddered. "The ponies call it 'stage fright,' don't they? I think I have that. Maybe a one-on-one approach would be the best for me."
The smile appeared again on his face.



The changeling walked the streets, looking at each pony that was in sight—talking, walking, eating, drinking, laughing, flying, playing, sitting—his eyes moving here and there as more ponies came.
Then, Spike and Derpy hanging out at a table, eating a few muffins and drinking some soda, talking.
The changeling hid behind an adjacent wall, peeking out just enough to see the two. His breathing quickened; there was sweat on his face. He retreated his face back behind the wall.
"There's Spike, good friend to Thorax," he said. "I can't disguise as Thorax—too easy, not to mention a little deceptive. Wouldn't want to disguise as a king—I can't imagine all the consequences of that. So, who else?"
He peeked out again, now eyeing the pegasus mare across the table from Spike.
"Who's her?"
Then, he brought out an ear—and only an ear—out from behind the wall.
"...and, that was when I tripped on some spaghetti," Spike told. "I knew that Rainbow Dash wasn't that good as a cook, but I didn't expect her to be so messy about it that I couldn't see the pasta and I still fell for it!"
Derpy giggled, Spike watching her laugh with some confidence on his face.
"So, what happened this morning for you, Derpy?" Spike asked.
Derpy looked at him as she ate a muffin. "I was able to order a delivery of baked goods for Twilight!"
"Wait, what?"
Derpy nodded. "She was cooking something about sweet potato muffins, so I thought that she would like the gift."
"But, why?"
"Why not?"
Spike leaned forward. "Is that it? I was hoping that there was something deeper behind it."
"Nope." Derpy shook her head, that smile on her face.
"Am I going to eavesdrop here for hours?" Monoclad whispered. He groaned as he flittered away.
"Hey! Who's that?" Derpy asked Spike, pointing at the fleeing changeling. "Is he another changeling friend of yours?"
Monoclad slapped himself on the face and groaned.