A Volunteer at the Bureau

by Comma Typer


The Keynote Speakers

After an affable talk between the two of them, Sam bade Laura farewell as she was taken away by a changeling wearing one tie—her designated physical therapist for learning the changeling lifestyle: how to fly with new wings, how to digest love, how to shapeshift....
Once she was out of his sight, Sam slumped back to his chair, slugging through the minutes until the next to-be-something-magical would come over and say it’s their final day as a human. Although he’d met only Laura, he was already expecting customer number two to be a bit teary-eyed.
OK, very teary-eyed.
However, the wait was cut short by Crowhop trotting up to him, humming a melody. She raised a cardboard arrow with her magic and said, “I have the perfect job for you right now! What about you help set up the free public seminar we’re holding this evening? Better than having you waste precious volunteer hours!”
Sam thought back to her words less than two hours ago: ...that makes it easy to get the swing of things! Perhaps a newspaper and a nice chat with a changeling was enough to get that swing.
“Well?” Crowhop nudged, eyes wide open and blinking fast.
Cooling off, Sam quipped, “Sorry to be blunt, but do you really talk like that to everyone?”
Crowhop shoved it off with a giggle, spinning the arrow around with her hoof like a professional sign spinner. “Duh! Ahem, not all the time, but most of the time! That’s how I roll...or spin,” laughing at her own pun.
Sam looked to the left and then to the right, seeing if anyone else heard it. "OK...?"
Crowhop stomped the floor blithely. "Come on! Say it's a good joke!"
Loosening up, Sam stood up and answered, "Nah!"
The pony sat down on the floor and crossed her forelegs, mimicking a grumpy boss. "You're no fun!"
Sam placed both hands on his hips. "It was a bad pun."
Crowhop quickly went back on her four hooves. "I was trying to lighten up the mood, you know! Make you smile some more?"
As they went back to the hallways, Sam rubbed his eyes and took one more look at the lobby and lounge behind him. A deer had come in and was now selling a few potted plants.
The flashlight saleschangeling flew over to the deer and bumped each other's hooves, indulged in greetings and how-do-you-do's.
Before the voices were muffled behind the walls, Sam heard one of them say, "How's that personal forest of yours?" Needless to say, he mulled it over, imagining the deer cultivating first a tree, and then two, and then a copse, and then a whole forest in his backyard. He would then scoop up whatever caught his fancy, put them nicely in a pot, perhaps spoke kind words to them, and ventured out to the world on an adventure to ornament the la—
Hit his head on a door and fell down.
"Agh!" and Crowhop retreated to the wall. "A-Are you alright, Mr. Henry?"
Sam got up with little difficulty, groaning as he rubbed his head and his spine. He gave her a thumbs up, saying nothing while the pain throbbed in a few places.
"You need some medicine?" spoke Crowhop nervously, eyes darting back and forth. "What about bandages? Gauze? We'll take you to the clinic—"
"I'm fine," Sam insisted. "No need to call the ambulance; not even aspirin."
"You're sure?" Crowhop's eyes went big as a frown dominated her face. "I don't want you to have a bad time here, especially on your first day!"
"It's OK, it's OK," while shaking his head. "Thank you for your concern."
And Crowhop let out a phew!, happy that disaster had been averted.
Sam, however, was not aware of any disaster being averted. Bumping into a door was no disaster to him.


Crowhop led him to the seminar room which was a medium-sized chamber. Spacious and open, it was filled with chairs and had a stage at the back, big enough to catch everyone’s attention and keep it in its grasp. The carpeted floor, coupled with the colder air thanks to more air-conditioning units, made Sam feel like he'd been transported to Alaska. All that was missing was the snow, the ice sheets, the reindeer—
Well, he had seen that plant-selling deer.
On the stage and under the bright lights was the room’s lone occupant: a lanky gray blue Earth pony topped with a short blonde mane. Sam could see that his cutie mark was a microphone, which made sense—even his deep mumbling could be heard from across the room, though it was still incoherent. He was likely practicing his script, subscribing to the principle of repetition.
“I’d like you to meet Key Note!” Crowhop said, pointing at the pacing stallion across the room while tugging Sam’s shirt with her hoof. “He’s going to tell the history of the bureau, talk about each potion with its pros and cons, and hold a Q&A session.” She gave her arrow another spin on her hoof, giggling at her own skill. “Basically our PR guy for today. Sounds fun?”
“Original pony or no?” Sam immediately asked.
Crowhop blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “Why, no! He used to be a human just like you. Said he lived in British Columbia before moving down here ‘cause it’s too cold.”
Sam crossed his arms, watching Key Note mumble and mutter without noticing the newcomers. As much as he wanted to focus on whatever that pony was saying, his mind kept returning to Crowhop. Did she agitate her? Was there a harbored grudge underneath that sweet, sweet, sickeningly cute and sweet smile? Or was she really that cheerful?
He remembered the documentary shows about Equestria he'd seen on TV or on the internet, and one thing that'd stood out to him about ponies was their personality. Not everyone one of them were smiles and rainbows all the time, but he'd considered them a content lot. Their neutral expression was a smile, not a blank face he'd gotten used to when he'd peoplewatch once in a while.
On one hand, it made pony interaction easier for him; their perpetual smiles and grins gave off an air of perpetual ease, facing the next thing in life with overflowing joy. On the other hand, he had a hard time keeping up with them; their expressiveness kept surprising him, whether it's being all giddy in a shopping mall or crying a fountain by the highwa—
“Hey?"
Sam got out of his internal monologue, whirling his head to see Crowhop at his side.
Her lips turned down into a frown. Those big pony eyes only made her face more pitiful. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Oh, just thinking about what to be when I take the potion plunge,” Sam blathered. He was technically telling the truth, forcing his mind to think of something else.
Crowhop gasped, her concerned frown turning into one of those typical pony grins. “Really? Follow me!”
“Wait, wha—”
And he was tugged along by a wrapping forehoof, staggering after her and almost tripping. Before he knew it, he’d gotten up the stairs and was now right in front of Key Note himself, feeling the lights’ glare.
“Ah!” he blurted out in his signature baritone, throwing his head back. “What—or should I say, who do we have here?” He looked up to get a clearer picture of the man’s face, lifting a hoof to shield his own eyes from the lights' glare. “You must be that Sam I’ve been hearing about since yesterday.”
Sam had to remind himself that ponies can have deep voices. “Yes, sir,” as he stretched his hand out for a handshake...or a hoofshake. Or both. “The name’s Sam Henry.”
“Could read it out loud for myself,” he replied, gesturing towards the ID on Sam’s shirt, “but whatever works for ya’!” and shook his hand.
Sam did feel weird at having to grip his hoof and feeling something without seeing anything grasping his hand. Still, it was a courteous shake.
Crowhop grinned at him, but kept moving her anxious eyes towards Sam, conveying something to him with her darting irises.
Key Note got the memo, cleared his throat, and took a step back. He got a better view of Sam as a whole. “I apologize for putting it that way.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Sam said politely, lightly moving his hand about. Nonetheless, being briefly talked down to by a short pony didn't elicit the greatest of feelings....
“Then that’s good, too!” Key Note answered, sitting down on the wooden surface and putting his flank there. He held up a hoof, trying to act cool. “Before you ask anything, I heard you want to know my real name.”
Sam’s eyes shot open wide. “Really? You looked so focused on your talk!”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t multi-task, does it?” Note said, tapping his ear. The pony then tapped a hoof on the stage, verifying its strength. “So you won’t keep asking in your head: I’m Douglas Uaine—and it’s Way-nyeh, not Wayne.” He took a seated bow, lowering his head before Sam who was amused by the gratuitous respect. “I work at the In-N-Out across the street during the day...but at night?”
He held up a hoof for dramatic effect. He furrowed his brows and stared straight at the man’s eyes. Wiped his forehead, then his yellow mane.
In a deep, guttural voice:
“We guerrilla garden.”
Sam raised a brow, fixing and re-fixing his collar. “You guerrilla what?”
“Gardening in places you’re not allowed to garden in,” Crowhop explained, her cutesy accent making the explanation soothing to the ears. “Sidewalks, abandoned buildings, someone else’s backyard—” and flipped her mane. “It’s an Earth thing, so I should know.”
What came next was Crowhop slapping her head, realizing too late the blunder she’d made.
Uaine got a laugh out of that, pestering the poor unicorn like she was born on this planet.
Crowhop blushed, placed a hoof over her mouth under her fluttering eyes. “Come on! It’s just my tongue slipping!”
“You know I’m just ribbing on you!” Uaine said between guffaws, poking her on the shoulder.
As for Sam, he didn’t laugh. He brought a hand to his hip, watching the two ponies argue in jest. It fast descended to good-natured name-calling: Uaine called Crowhop “flip-flop!”, Crowhop called Uaine “rude dude!”
Finding out that the argument might take a while to simmer, Sam turned around to survey the room some more. A few paintings graced the walls, made by both humans and Equestrians. Coupled with the city’s ever-evolving art scene, it should’ve been no surprise—this one, for example, was a painting of a cloud tagged up in graffiti; it was titled, Aerosol Rainbow.
Come to think of it, maybe that's why the clouds had felt off on the way here. That blue cloud in the midst of white and gray...Sam remembered seeing that through the airplane's window.
Felt a warm tug at his shirt.
Sam turned around and saw Crowhop, this time tugging him with her magic, that part of his shirt now enveloped in a lime glow. This freaked him out a bit, but he restrained himself from showing it.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said, still blushing, still reeling from the comedic damage done to her.
Sam beamed for her, unable to resist her own infectious smile. “It’s alright.”
Uaine jumped up then landed on the stage with a thud! It was enough to make Crowhop and Sam look. “I’d like to talk, but I still have to get over my stage fright, you know?”
“Huh?” and Sam was caught out of left field on that one. “You're the only speaking tonight, right?”
“I have to build it up,” explained the stallion, putting his two forehooves together. “I have to build that confidence up. It disappears every time I leave the spotlight. It's an obstacle, but—” standing up on his four hooves “—but I'll do anything to help out the rest of my friends. I must get them informed,” his hooves now gesturing and posturing around, “I have to remove whatever fears they may be holding inside, to tell them that it’ll be alright. It's for their good, after all.”
Sam nodded, putting a finger to his chin so that he could look interested. He hoped Uaine didn't see past the facade. “I see, I see.”
Crowhop trotted into his view, levitating the arrow and spinning it with her hoof. “So, let’s haul in some tables for the food and drinks? I’ll call catering, and then I’ll help you.”
With that, the both of them gave Key Note a goodbye and they left the room, on the way to get some foldable tables.


It didn’t take long for Sam and Crowhop to set up the room. About an hour, to be more exact, with more than half of it blamed on the chatty mare stopping to talk about oranges, how they’re raised in Equestria, and how the renowned Apple family never really had a rivalry with them. ”Could you believe that the Oranges are related to the Apples? I'm sure you know Applejack, the Element of Honesty and, therefore, one of our heroes. Once, she ran away to Manehattan so she could live with Uncle and Aunt Orange! Heh, I’m certain they’ll like it here if they got free tickets. I'm not a tour guide or anything, but I can show them the oranges in the market, and I can treat them to orange ice cream while putting on orange perfume....”
More than a few times, though, was he distracted by the unicorn levitating her tables. She wasn’t having the best time with furniture; he could see some of her thin muscles bulging, and her voice was a bit airy whenever she spoke. When all was said and done, however, he brushed it off as normal, as if Crowhop was OK with it and had done this sort of thing before.
Maybe it was magic exercise, training the...magic instead of the muscle. Magic muscles? At any rate, the adage “Practice makes perfect” was true in both worlds.
Once the hauling was done and the tables unfolded and spread out to make up more than half the room's length—once that was done, Crowhop took out her flip-phone and called those who’d reserved seats for the seminar, checking up on them and seeing if they’re OK to go. Wanting to assist her further and be more than a shadow in the bureau, Sam raised his much more up-to-date smartphone, kindly asked her for a list of who’s coming, and checked up on some of them himself. That way, they’d finish the list of attendees in half the time—that was his hope, to be fair.
Sam was a bit jealous over Crowhop, probably because she sounded like the perfect pony to listen and talk to. Even without knowing she was a ridiculously cute pink unicorn, one would find her voice to be like the embrace of loving arms. How could anyone say “No” to her reminder of attending?
Meanwhile, Sam was stuck with the usual canned responses, following a vague script in his head and counting on the other person to not deviate from it.
When all the calls were done, Sam looked at the big clock standing over the door.
It was three-thirty. There was time left until six.


Sam had been given an hour-and-a-half long break “to enjoy Los Angeles, silly! Can’t stay here forever! Let us handle stuff while you’re gone.”
While one couldn’t get the full tour of the Big Orange in an hour-and-a-half, he did go over to South Central, the closest district that's part of Los Angeles proper.
Sam paid a visit to the Memorial Coliseum that’d hosted two Olympics within the previous century. It turned out that there'd be a game there between the Rams and the Broncos as could be seen by the stream of people trickling into the bleachers—either blue and yellow or orange and white; that's the colors he saw in a lot of them.
There were some Equestrians going there, too. Most notably, a hyper-excited group of pony Bronco fans screamed in every direction, holding up banners and balloons for their beloved club from Denver.
Sam wanted to ask those ponies if they really were from the Mile High City or if they just liked horse-themed football franchises, but this sensible volunteer knew better than to ask rabid zealots, especially since a couple of Earth ponies were among them. A beatdown administered by these devoted horses had a sizable mortality rate, to put it mildly.
Once he got away from that, Sam journeyed through the rest of South Central. He strolled on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, seeing the trees swaying by the sidewalks and the front yards of Leimart Park’s lush houses; he snapped photos of the famous Watts Towers, mosaic metal sculptures reaching high to the sky as he was crammed by other picture-taking tourists like him; and he relaxed at the Kenneth Hahn State Recreation Area, a vast open park with open green fields, plentiful benches, and a breath-taking view of upper L.A. with luxurious Beverly Hills in the distance.
Sam noted the mix of humans and Equestrian species hanging around at the venerated park. He got the feel that there were more of the latter than the former but only slightly. To his relief, no tension was brewing in the horizon. Instead, it was fun and games—someone had organized a park-wide game of hide-and-seek, and the it was not allowed to use his wings to cheat.
From there on, Sam also saw a dozen picnics and two or three outdoor parties. A barbecue, too, except that ponies, yaks, buffalo, and other vegetarian Equestrians weren't allowed to participate for obvious reasons. A little hungry himself, he took part in it, chatting with whoever was there. Rubbing shoulders with a fire-breathing dragon and a fiercesome griffon made him shiver inside, but they were friendly, prattling about sci-fi stuff like space elevators.
"What about with magic?" Sam once quipped with a raised finger.
What he got from the both of them was, "It doesn't work that way."
It was a fruitful discussion all the same.
While tramping on a scenic trail, he was intrigued to see a pony nibble on a patch of clean grass. A few kids teased and laughed, but that resilient stallion didn’t mind.
Sam hoped the pony was from Equestria.
After an hour and a quick trip to the local donut shop to swipe the cop-favorite combo of donuts and coffee, he traveled back to the bureau, returning with only a minute to spare.


“How was it?” Crowhop asked as she and Sam walked down the hallway, the human spraying citrus-scented cologne on himself. “Where’d you go? You watched a movie, didn’t you, ha?”
“I’d have no time to watch anyway,” Sam replied, straightening his collar and making sure his buttons were closed. He mentally regretted not watching a movie when he was just miles away from Hollywood, but tomorrow was another day.
Crowhop nodded, levitating her clipboard, with Sam getting a glimpse of it and seeing a timetable on one side. She took out a foldable spinning arrow and spun it around with her magic, passing the time as they walked.
When he opened the door for the mare, he gave her an unseen smile, appreciating the eternal optimism emanating from this energetic mare.
For now, Sam was becoming tired. His legs were a bit sore, telling him he should try a marathon or two before running a few kilometers for fun.
"Get inside!" said that lively Crowhop.
He noticed that he was already leaning much of his weight on the wall, panting for air. A spray of cologne and a fix of a collar later, he got inside.


It was an hour of patient waiting for Sam, an hour that dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. He stood there, ensuring that nothing would go wrong and seeing if no one would do anything shady.
Slowly but surely, the chairs were filled up by thoughtful prospects, inquisitive visitors, and the occasional candid skeptic. The overwhelming majority were humans, although a few Equestrians got in, mostly family members or friends of the one man or woman willing to endure information overload.
No one was hogging the buffet table. Nevertheless, the catering staff, with their aprons and their chef hats, studied the only dragon in the audience, maybe wondering if they should impose limits on this ravenous creature. One of them remarked that he should've brought his girlfriend's jewelry—without asking, of course.
The clock struck six.
Ahem, ahem a-a-a-ahem!
That was enough to turn everyone’s heads to the keynote speaker on stage.
The only keynote speaker, apparently. The schedule tacked on to the clipboard said as much.
“I trust that everyone’s having a good time,” Key Note said, stretching a hoof towards all of them. He got dozens of mumbled affirmatives from the engrossed crowd, ready to get the tenth or nth primer on Conversion Bureaus. “Sure, sure...and you don’t need to ask permission to get some refreshments if you’re hungry!”
Sam crossed his arms, trying to get into a comfortable position while observing the people who must’ve had their stomachs rumbling. All the seats were full, and he didn’t feel right just sitting on the floor. He twiddled with his thumb. Wait, wasn't it six in the ev—
“Mr. Henry?”
He looked down and saw Crowhop by his side.
“Thank you for your assistance today,” she said, tugging at her mane. “I like it when people like you put in that extra effort and initiative.”
Sam leaned his head to the side, raising his shoulders. “Hey, I came here to volunteer, not to lie around and do nothing.”
“That's the spirit!” She said, tugging at his shirt again out of excitement. Then, she eyed the clock ticking above the door. “Oh, no! It's past your time!”
"Oh?" Only until a few minutes ago did he think about the end of his working hours today, but just to make sure, he checked that clock.
It was a few minutes past six.
"Wow, time flies when you're—"
The door opened slowly, making the both of them look at a hippogriff’s beak peeking out. “Whoops! Sorry to be late for the night shift! Opposite day for me!”
Crowhop stepped aside and let the hippogriff guard come in, complete with armor and helmet and spear.
Sam almost yelped at seeing this soldier of a guard. The presence of a weapon didn't help matters either.
Crowhop made an adorable tee-hee! at that. “We get a lot of death threats, so we have to prepare ourselves for anything, especially at night.”
The hippogriff nodded, planting the spear on the ground...but not too hard that the floor cracked. “If they’re gonna burn this thing down, they’ll have to get through me first!” and brandished her spear, spinning it around.
Making Sam hug the wall with his back, along with having a couple people and ponies in the audience look back. They saw this brave volunteer cling to the walls for safety.
In order to sound brave and save face, he let go of the wall and dusted his shirt. “How’s that gonna stop a bullet?” like he had never been afraid before in his entire life.
“A normal spear won't stop a bullet,” she replied, "but an enchanted one does." She held it up so that it gleamed under the ceiling lights. “Slows down everything but the user within a meter. It only lasts twelve hours, so we have to send it to the local mage regularly. Pays hefty bits, though.”
Now you’re scaring me,” Sam said quietly, raising his hands in self-defense and hoping he wouldn’t get pummeled on accident. Then, after a glance at his watch, he went to the door, eye still on that sharp, magic spear. “I guess this is goodbye, then?”
“Yup!” Crowhop said with that smile, cute for this long. "But, please watch the whole thing when we upload it online! Share it to your friends, too!"
Sam served a mindless "Yeah," and waved them off.
After farewells were exchanged between the three, he left, relieved that he could sit back in his hotel room and unwind.


Sam brisked his way through the halls, feet moving without thinking. He had booked an Uber ride already, just in case there was heavy traffic. A little bit of lavish convenience in one of the world’s greatest was could be tolerated.
A couple more turns, and the lobby was in sight. He heard a door from the back creaking open but paid it no mind.
The lobby and lounge was almost empty, the sofas and chairs devoid of any clients or just anyone who tarried about. Perhaps the seminar had something to do with that. At least the receptionists and the coffee bar's waiters could talk freely about the news of the day.
Then, he saw the hippogriff guards standing just outside the bureau. Spears were at the ready.
Slam!
Looked behind him. A pony and a griffon were accompanying a crying changeling across one of the halls.
A green changeling, tears staining her hard chitin cheeks. Her eyes were closed, covered by forehooves as she clumsily flew past the doors. The escorts glanced at each other with worried frowns as they led her to some place.
He heard a door open and then close as quietly as possible. The strain of it was undeniable.
To be discreet, he jogged out of the bureau and slipped into the night, into the bustling traffic with its sea of white, yellow, and red against the dark sky.
A guard had to remind this fellow to take off his ID. He was outside the premises and no longer needed it, after all.


The black taxi had happened to be some ten or twenty meters away from the bureau. Once Sam got in, he felt slightly dizzy, finding the gridlock wearisome after hours of moving around here and there, talking on the phone, and seeing a lot of Equestrians in rapid succession. It took him a few minutes to settle in to the welcoming scent of pine trees and the twang of country music.
It also took him a few minutes to move past the intersection.
“What’s going on, Arthur?” Sam finally asked, hand on his seat belt.
“Just finished a protest,” the driver said, gesturing with his fingers to make up for no eye contact. “You haven't heard? They say the Front was in on it.”
“You mean the HLF?”
“What else would I be talking about?” He turned his head around, sweat shining on his forehead. “You heard of Key Note? That talking pony guy in that bureau we passed by? I saw the poster and everything.”
Sam was now uneasy. Theories of past grudges and revenge sprung up...and, come to think of it, how come he didn't see the poster plastered on the glass wall? But he had to talk: “What about him?”
Arthur went back to the wheel, bringing all his attention to the road ahead. “Rumor is he’s a shill for the PER. Get into the bureau’s graces, infiltrate the place, and then hold everyone ransom. 'Pay me or I'll turn all of you into ponies!'” he finished in a mocking accent.
The thought of giving a PER pony free reign over a crowd distressed Sam. Now a bead of sweat went down his forehead. “Any evidence on that one?” he asked, betraying a bit of anxiety.
“I know people on both sides,” Arthur said, voice now a tad more somber. “Good thing they're not the guys who'll point a gun at you, but it's all disturbing." He flicked a hand towards the empty passenger seat. "Also comes with the territory. If you’re going to be transporting everyone, you’ll be transporting a few nutcases. Me?" Pointed at himself. "I say I don’t care unless they got Molotov cocktails...or Molotov pony potions.”
He punched the steering wheel. It was leather so there was no harm done, but the force of it troubled Sam. There's the temptation to ask for any road rage records from the man himself, but he shot that idea down.
“Hate whoever thought of such a wonderful idea," Arthur said gruffly. "If I weren't quick on my feet during my Hawaiian vacation back then, I'd be toast, but...condolences to those who weren't so lucky.”
Sam laid back on his seat, not in the mood to remember that incident. He waited another full minute, recognizing the driver's bout of silent contemplation. Then: “Why didn’t they protest in front of the bureau?”
A moan. Arthur raised a hand to strike the horn, but refrained. “They’re wimps. Not a single one of them’s fought a wizard. They want to fight, but they’re not gonna fight unicorns and the cosmic princesses.” He then increased the radio's volume, the song having changed into a mix of banjo and blues.
Rest laid on Sam’s mind. Looking out the window, he could see the airport with its intermittent line of airplanes coming in and out. Seeing seven or eight Equestrians wandering around at night made him think of how many were in LAX, that hub of travel.
“And you’ll ask what’ll I be when it’s over?” Arthur chuckled, hiding the anger he had for the stalling car before him. “Got you, huh? It’s like when people ask you if it’s Coke or Sprite.”
“Don’t you mean—”
“I’m just messing with you!” he said in that lighter, comical voice. “By the way: Abyssinian. Walking and talking cat. I don’t care much about the crazy powers others have." Took a gulf of his water bottle, slammed it down. "If I made it to thirty without magic or flight, I think I’ll be fine moving forward.”
That was the end of their conversation as the taxi raced ahead to Sam’s Holiday Inn. There would be leisure, there would be relief, and there would be an escape from hard work at the bureau for a while.
Los Angeles's attractions could wait for another day.