What makes a changeling unique? That is a question no one pony can answer from looking at just a group of drones. But what about the changelings? How do they define unique? Simple. If a changeling bares a unique characteristic -- primarily having a mane and tail -- then the queen immediately assumes they can serve to a higher purpose than just a drone. This method is not fair nor accurate as having a mane and tail was just being genetically lucky; not a sign of being something special. It’s simply just the way the queen narrows down what changelings to give more important jobs.
These changelings with discernible features are referred to as the “Durse Changelings” and are pushed by Chrysalis to become nobles, scientists, teachers, engineers, doctors, etc. Durse Changeling supposedly means “lucky” or “unique” changelings; but, I think it’s really just something Chrysalis made up to make us all feel important. How does she decide what role would suit which changeling best? Yet again, simple. She keeps a closer eye on the Durse Changelings than the rest of her brood; monitoring them from birth to see what interests they take or what areas they excel in. These changelings have access to a larger array resources to play around with. Once the changelings reach a certain age, chrysalis gives all these unique changelings a universal test to determine their interests and career goals. She then proceeds to force the changelings into whichever category they score the highest in. Which is totally accurate and has never left anyling in a place they hate. Never…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was rudely brought back to the land of consciousness from the much more preferable land of dreams from a faint tapping on the door to my quarters. Shifting over to my other side in bed like a teenager who doesn’t want to get ready for school, I try to milk every last second of slumber I can before starting the day. However, the being behind the door knew me too well. Opening the door, a slim and older changeling stepped into the room. He was dressed in his usual formal suit that he wears everyday; his face hugged by a thin white mane and beard. His name...well, changelings don’t have names. Not even us “special ones.” So, we instead refer to each other by either our profession or the accessories that differentiate us. Thus he is typically referred to as butler since calling him “suit” wouldn’t work since several others also have suits.
“Good morning Top Hat. It is time to get up” he says, his voice soothing and gentle with a nice richness to it. He was approaching my bedside to drop off a small envelope that he had retrieved from his coat pocket. All while maintaining a disturbingly professional and unwavering smile. “Inside this letter contains the daily duties you are to fulfill.”
“Thank you Butler” I reply, trying to be nice to the old changeling since he maintains this routine everyday. His job is to write daily agendas, wake up the Durse Changelings, do menial tasks if they require it, give said agendas, then spend the rest of the day serving the queen. Primarily serving the queen wine or doing small odd jobs. Seeing that I was awake was enough to satisfy him to leave. Giving a small bow, he then proceeded to exit my room.
My eyes refused to leave the sight of him until he was gone. Something about him was deeply unsettling, which is strange since his voice matched with his professional exterior and actions would seem perfectly normal. Just something about the way he looks at me. That smile and those eyes. The smile a facade of what lies underneath that I’m not quite sure is friendly. And the eyes analyzing your very being; peering deep into your soul as if looking for something.
With the click of the closing door, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Turning my attention to the envelope residing by my bedside, I opened it only to not be surprised. “Teach by yourself” were the only words inscribed upon the parchment. Slightly different than the usual “teach” but not by much.
Setting the note aside, I begrudgingly arose from my bed, stretching my muscles and adjusting my unkempt blonde and orange mane to it’s proper place. Calling my rat’s nest a mane is almost laughable. But that’s how it is with every Durse Changeling: our manes looking akin to Chrysalis’. In other words, they look like someone super glued colored and hole riddled seaweed to an insect’s head. It’s the queen’s orders that I must try to look as professional as possible since I am “a scholarly educator” as she put it. That’s also why she gave me a top hat, it looks “professional.”
I gazed into the smudged and cracked mirror upon my wall, looking at myself morosely. My mane was parted from one far side of the head to collect on the other side with my top hat sitting atop it. The top hat was dyed to specifically match my mane. Another thing the queen does to make us think we’re important when really I’m sure ponies can whip up a top hat of any color for anypony. Not that special now is it? I further examine myself, looking at my somewhat taller and sleeker build. I also see a young changeling who, as of today, has been appointed with the most life draining role possible. A teacher. It is my job to brainwash the young into being mindless subservient drones who will only obey Chrysalis as soon as they reach the age of work. That age is 16. I turned 16 a week ago and have since spent my time learning how to teach from another educator. This fellow teacher is one of my only companions. Although our conversations aren't the ripest and most interesting, I think we both just enjoy the company of another like minded changeling; both of us wanting change and questioning Chrysalis' motives, yet he doesn't seem to be willing to do much about it. Either from sheer laziness or fear of the repercussions such actions are sure to bring. However, this week long apprentice period has ended. I'm now being rushed into teach my very own class of changelings by myself.
Letting out a sigh and lowering my head, I wish to just stay in this room all day and do nothing. But that would result in severe punishment. Raising my somber head, I take a deep breathe and exit my room.
While walking the corridors of the hive to my classroom, I can’t help but recall why I’ve been appointed to be a teacher. The answer: I scored highly on the intelligent and analytical scale from the test Chrysalis gives all Durse Changelings. Albeit, I can’t honestly find it in myself to argue against it. Educating the hungry minds of the youthful to help guide them to the passion they will one day fulfill sounds like an excellent and rewarding job. But not like this. It’s also strange to think someling as young as 16 is teaching children when I myself am not even an adult yet.
My thoughts were cut short as I came across a small gathering of guards and other changelings. Stopping the pace I acquired to my classroom, I peer over their shoulders to get a better look at why they’re gathering. A corpse of another guard, one of a somewhat higher stature and command. There was a small note left on his inert body, reading “Maybe things wouldn't have come to this if people didn't get executed just for thinking the "wrong" way.” The only other features of the note is that the text is purple and the small purple rose depicted on the bottom of the page.
The Black Rose. Weren’t they just a myth? A fake group and name used to categorize and label changelings who don’t obey the queen? I silently think to myself in dread, knowing full well that The Black Rose is actually real. Rumors of this group are gruesome. Most just wave them off as being fake, but those who believe in them tell records of the group brutally torturing and ruining the lives of certain officials. They are the anti-queen unseen society and brutally torture, maimed, poison, experiment on, or kill anyone they believe to be too cruel. I’ve also heard they “convert” changelings to the cause. Some by choice, but most by blackmail or promises of abominations. Legend has it they’re whittling down the Durse Changeling who serve the queen too closely until they can finally get to her. Which is a soothing thing to think about, considering I am a Durse Changeling.
The neighboring guards turned to me, examining me for a moment before one spoke up. “Get a move on. Someone like you has more important things to do than gawk at a dead body.” Rather blunt one isn’t he? Well, he has a point. If I don’t get moving I’ll most likely get into trouble. I give a small nod to him and pick my pace back up, although a bit quicker this time.
It's unsettling to think that I could be one of the next targets. Although, The Black Rose isn't known to strike out often. They typically only assassinate those who are particularly cruel. Maybe The Black Rose was actually something for me. But, it's not like they have a bright flashing sign to come sign up for the club. It's also unlikely they'd want anything to do with a mere "educator" like myself.
Approaching the classroom, I take a deep breathe to try to calm my nerves for both being by myself in a room of strangers; but, also to make me not think about the infinite potential the young grub in the room had. That I was going to ruin…
Pushing the door open, I’m immediately greeted with dozens of pairs of glowing greenish blue eyes. Stepping to the desk by the front, I utter a greeting to the classroom “Good morning class.” They immediately reply with “Good morning Mr. Top Hat.” I shuddered at how quickly they did that without even practicing it once. I peer off into the changelings with wistful eyes as they stared expectantly back at me.
Every single one of them looked the same. Every. Single. One. The only differences are small height differences, but they all have that same black chitin, thin insectoid wings and swiss cheese legs. In a society where the vast majority of the populous looks identical, the only way to differentiate one’s self from another is to show creativity, accomplishments, and allow each individual to think and act differently as they seem fit. But I was going to stop that. All these young children could do anything they wanted with their life because I’m the same as them, after all. The only reason I wasn’t brainwashed was because I look different. They’re all perfectly capable of doing the exact same as I have, but Chrysalis doesn’t allow that. So, in turn, I don’t allow that.
Choking down the lump in throat that formed from my train of thoughts going to dark places, I turn back to the board and desk. Levitating up an old pony textbook and binder full of teaching plans and procedures, I inspect them briefly. So cheap we couldn’t even make up our own sources of literature and education. Of course not. I think to myself with resent before setting the book down and opening the binder.
When I was a young grub, I didn’t have textbooks like these. My childhood was more so just doing whatever I pleased. That’s how it was for all the Durse Changelings. Chrysalis believes we are different and knew, from birth, what our destiny was. She waited to see what we gravitated to, but now I see that these changelings don't have that option. They’re thrown into school to learn obedience from birth; then, spend the rest of their day time as slaves to the hive. I briefly shake my head to dissipate the thoughts in my head since the class was still staring at me.
“Alright class, welcome to your first day of school. Today we’re going to be starting in the very beginning of our textbooks, so please open to page 12.” I addressed the class with my deeper tone of voice, sounding akin to the soothing voice of a narrator from the cassette tapes you could listen to in libraries. Briefly flipping to the right page I skim some more of the lesson plan. “So, we’re going to start with the basics such as Princess Celestia is evil and Chrysalis is our one true solace…” My voice slows and fades as I read what has been scribbled onto the page. Expecting this to be a normal pony textbook, my eyes were instead met with a page of Princess Celestia scribbled over and a poorly drawn Chrysalis instead. Second guessing myself, I wander astray from my desk and to a small filly’s desk, glancing down to her textbook. It was the same. Every textbook had been written all over, pages torn out, and defiled to serve the purpose of the hive but keep information that we were too lazy to reproduce in our own textbooks.
“Mr. Top Hat, why is Celestia bad?” the small filly asked with the most innocent voice. Ripping my gaze from the book and to the filly in question, she's staring at me with the most innocent and curious pair of blue globes I’ve ever seen. This question didn’t please her classmates as they hissed at her for even questioning why Celestia is bad. She shrinks and lets out a tiny whine in response. “S-sorry for asking…”
“No, no! I uh...Celestia is bad because…” Swallowing, I look around to the rest of the class who look confused or angry at the mention of the princess. She was simply just being curious, but the mention of a pony, especially Celestia, in a non negative way wasn't really accepted. “She’s bad because… she’s cruel to changelings.” I pull an answer out of my flanks half assedly. Hesitating for a moment, I try my best to give the filly a warm smile so she didn't think she did something wrong. I make my way back to the board and bring control back to my voice. “Moving on.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had to find something. I had to teach something. I had to DO something. That small filly in that class is going to be either picked on and punished for not following what appears to be the holy fucking bible of our race: "lest thee peasant wander astray from thine teachings, thou shalt be burnt in the deepest pits of Tartarus for eternity!" and so on and so forth. Or, she will pulled out of class to be privately “taught” what she should know with a little less patience and hospitality. I couldn’t let that happen. The others had already fallen victim to Chrysalis’ manipulation, but if I can save one. Just one. Prevent them from being a worker for the rest of their lives until they die, no one batting an eye at their death, then it would all be worth it.
Powered by the sheer determination of doing what’s right, I hastily make my way to the royal library. The royal library is a place only available to either higher up officials or Durse Changelings. It is the only place to contain any kind of actual knowledge and information, not just the ceaseless plethora of propaganda we force our young to devour in order to become another meaningless cog in the machine. I need to be quick because I have to report to Chrysalis about my first day on the job and the progress that has been made.
Approaching the doors of the library, there are two guards posted outside the doors. Upon seeing my mane and tail, along with my hat, they part their spears to let me into the room. Stepping inside, I immediately became surrounded by a myriad of bookshelves that contain primarily untouched tomes of knowledge that have been laid to waste by our species. The unimaginable amount of information, sciences, mathematics, fables, and knowledge in this room make me want to squeal and bounce up and down like an excited filly with too much sugar. But I have a mission to do. So that can wait for later.
Scanning the shelves for what organized each section, I eventually found a few books on pony history. Levitating these up into my magical grip, the next section to look for would be sciences and fantasy stories. The best thing I can hope to do is to show that filly, maybe even the whole class that ponies aren’t bad. Show them what interesting and useful things the sciences hold. Show them the mysteries and epic tales of fantasy heroes. Anything I can do to make them escape this brainwashed state of mind and gain a sense of personal identity would be progress. I just needed the suitable supplies to even just spark interest -- or at least curiosity or suspicion about our hive's state of being -- and allow them to do the rest.
Satisfied with the ample amount of books I have now stuffed into one old book bag that was tossed askew somewhere on the floor. I left the library to run back to my quarters before the meeting with Chrysalis. I had never been a fan for ponies, but I never understood why they were hated either. If anything, I’m just intrigued as to why this whole hate started. Was it some old war from back before even Chrysalis’ times? Is it just that Chrysalis is a daft bitch who hates any and everything? Even her own subjects? Yeah… that sounds like the most probable answer… and the most boring. Well, there goes my hopes to dive deep into historical texts to pinpoint the causation of our proclamation. I was so looking forward to reading all night long to diagnosing the problem, but the answer is most likely having to do with a severe case of the control and power freak known as Chrysalis.
A shame.
Lightly chuckling to myself, I step back into the familiar atmosphere of my room. Disposing of the books underneath my bed, I take one last look at myself in the mirror to tidy up before seeing our beloved queen. Briskly proceeding out into the twisting corridors of our hive, I eventually found myself at the entrance to the queen’s room. Upon arrival, another Durse Changeling steps out of the room with his head raised high, seeming as if the queen told him he did a particularly good job of being a kiss ass today. Striding into the room after the other changeling left, Queen Chrysalis seemed bored… right up until she saw me.
Her face brightened with slight excitement since it was my first day on the job. Can’t be too excited though, still have to give off the vibe of hating literally everything that moves. “So? How was your first day on the job? Did you teach according to the lesson plans?” She inquired while examining my figure to make sure I still had my hat and looked as “professional” as possible.
“Yes my queen. I followed the lesson plans to the dot.” I replied, trying to sound as calm and professional as possible. She gave a nod but said nothing else, expecting me to go on. “I went over the first few pages of our textbooks to teach the grub about Celestia, Luna, and ponies in general.” She appeared to be more satisfied with that response.
“Good. Very good. As long as we continue to instruct our young in this fashion, we will be the most productive and civil race in all of Equestria.”
Yes, because if you mean civil and efficient, you mean a horde of brain dead flesh puppets that do everything by physical labor rather than using magic and or science to help us do things much quicker, than sure. We’re already there. She gave me one final look “Report back to me at the end of the week and keep up the work.” She had many other changelings to talk to and boss around so she could never spend too much time on just one changeling. Which is good for me because just her presence and looks was making me anxious. I gave a small bow before exiting the room, only to be replaced by some other changeling that has some problem including not having enough dipping sauce with his ration of love. Which is constantly dwindling. Which is yet another fun thing to think about. Starvation is actually my favorite forced pass time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chrysalis only wants to see me at the end of the week. This is perfect! I don’t have to worry about showing up on time for reports. This’ll give me time to at least work with that filly one-on-one and hopefully my whole class at some point. I was laying down on my bed, resting my head on my hooves while laying on my belly, kicking my hind hooves idly behind me. My eyes were busy glossing over the history book in front of me; scanning for any key points that I could look further in depth later. It wouldn’t be long now and it would be curfew for all the changelings. We aren’t allowed to leave our rooms for almost any reason after this time, so I was jotting down rough notes into a small and roughed up journal. My master plan was to teach class as normal tomorrow but pull that filly aside after class to teach her separately. If that plan succeeds and she sees things from a whole new perspective then the next step is to slowly trickle these methods of teaching into the lesson plans.
Curfew has approached and the guards were now doing their sweep to make sure no changeling has left and to check up on rooms that still have lights on. Like mine. I hastily turn the lights off and tuck my books back under my bed since I would prefer not to be caught reading history textbooks. That would land me in some form of trouble; those of which I doubt would be a firm talking to. But since our queen is so unorganized, she doesn’t like when changelings read about ponies in ways that aren’t blatantly slathered in bias, yet she’s too lazy to remove any of them from the library. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I proceed forward without being caught. And I won’t be because Chrysalis or any of her servants have no reason to search and it’s not like they’re going to be randomly sweeping rooms. That'd take ages considering none of the guards are all too bright and there's too many changelings to keep track of. Especially since most of us don't have names.
I didn’t think I’d be saying this by the end of today, if anything, I was expecting I would have been wishing for death right about this point. But, I’m actually excited to go teach tomorrow. At least teach that one filly. Wish she had a name though, it’d make things easier. Maybe that’s something we can come up with together.