A Volunteer at the Bureau

by Comma Typer


Before Drift Off

Back in his hotel room, Sam changed to a thin shirt and a pair of shorts. Took off his shoes, too. With R&R in sight, he finally relaxed in this hotfoot of a city. At least it wasn’t New York, the city that could never sleep because it drank a hundred cups of coffee an hour with a bit of Red Bull on the side.
His furnishings included a one-man bed and a family-sized television hanging on the wall. Not content with peering at text on his little smartphone since he’d deemed it too much work, Sam decided to get his daily dose of news through the TV, and the news were pretty standard fare. As he requested, there was a pine tree air freshener inside, permeating the room with that minty smell.
Standard for a world being consumed by a growing magic wall.
Los Angeles’s mayor had spoken on a contingency plan for when the Veil would come over to the West Coast. He called all residents to consider their bureau visits wisely—too early, they would be struggling to use human-exclusive technology and might end up hurting the city in the long run; too late, and they would be forced to either evacuate out East or stuff the bureau with excessive workload. He also assured everyone that emergency potion batches would be made, although they might be given out at random in the city’s last week before the Veil. Deliberating on whether to be a dragon or a buffalo would be moot when an hour was left to one’s human life.
The mayor considered himself lucky that San Francisco would face the Veil first, although he didn’t say that in public television. He did show it by that sly smile that made his teeth shine under the lights.
Aside from that, the trial for Oregon’s senator was about to go underway in what could be a gripping tale of corruption, embezzlement, and power struggle. The details of the case were sparse so far, but Sam caught whiff of personal debts, collusion with neighbors, and partnering with a guy who had an offshore company.
An anxious crowd of people stood outside the court’s steps at night, waiting with bated breath for the trial to commence.
In a probable bid to boost ratings or because the human mind was fascinated by the non-human, a lot of Equestrians were interviewed, with the excitement doubled if the Equestrian confirmed they were from Equus. Those who’d been converted gave classic answers to the usual questions, replying that they were shocked by the level of corruption in their state’s government and that they want justice to be done against this criminal. Most were certain that he was all but done; a few held up signs declaring that he was innocent, merely the target of a smear campaign.
Yet, it was those who were never human to begin with—that’s what made the news a bit more interesting.
“So,” the reporter said, bending to bring the microphone down to a pony’s level, “what do you think of this landmark case against such a high authority?”
The pony blinked, pursing her lips confused at the camera aimed at her. “Uh...he’s not turning to stone, right?”
“He isn’t,” clarified the reporter. “If the court rules against him, he’d be sentenced to life in jail.”
The pony tilted her head, an ear falling flat. “Doesn’t sound that bad, to be honest.”
“What do you mean by that?” this reporter asked seriously, trying to be unfazed as her interviewee.
“I mean...h-he could be turned into stone,” replied the pony. “He’d be imprisoned for a thousand years. That’s really bad. Oh, and being banished to the chaos dimension—I’ve heard it’s not the nicest of places to be.”
This amused Sam, making him chuckle at the reporter’s failure. Specifically, the failure to elicit something news-worthy out of the pony’s mouth. The reporter almost stammered, suffering under the neutral but unsure face of the pony. That’s when she got the cue from her cameraman to move on to someone else.
After about half an hour of news and commercials—one of which was an anti-smoking commercial featuring a dragon burning a pack of cigarettes with his fire breath—Sam turned the television off.
He got up from his easy chair only to plop down on to his fluffy bed. That familiar feeling, that familiar texture of a warm, comforting, inviting bed that beckoned him to enter the realm of dreams. He flinched at the possibility of seeing Princess Luna there, but he banked on his not being a pony to ward her off.
Lying down with pillow and blanket, it was time to sl—
Ding-dong!
Sam got out of bed moaning, his slurred mind telling him to punch whoever would disturb his entrance into the dream realm—but first, he had to check who it was.
Through the peephole, he saw it was a hovering pegasus with a mailbag slung around her torso.
“Mail?” he whispered.
But, he didn’t ask himself any more questions. He opened the door.
The mare waved at him, an enveloper in her hoof’s grasp. “I got a letter for Sam Henry!”
Sam shook his head in unbelief, hands to his temples. “What? How’d you find me here?”
“Somepony at the bureau helped me out,” she said. “She told me you were staying here.”
“OK, I get it,” he said, raising a hand to temper the mare’s expectations, “but can you tell me who exactly wrote a letter to me?”
“Um….” She inspected the envelope. “Must be your Mom and Dad.”
Sam froze, eyes focused on that valuable letter inside.
“Actually,” she said, hoofing the envelope to him, “it’s kinda’ normal. At least it’s your parents who got up and about. I’ve heard stories where it’s the child who gets out. There’s this one where the parents went all over the state to look for their son, but it’s too late. He’d become a unicorn.” She stretched her forehooves out, took a glance at her wings to see if they’re moving well. “Still had a stern talking to, but they gotta admit—what’s done is done.”
While the mailpony was talking, Sam had held the mouthwriting up to his eyes. It really was directed to him, although a little scribble was traced out on the surface: Aww! Your parents wrote a letter to you, hooves and all! Plus points if none of them are unicorns! Have a good night! - From your friend at the bureau, Canter Crowhop
Beside it was a smiley face and a heart. Crowhop remained cute even when she wasn’t in the same building as him.
“Well,” Sam began, looking up at the floating mare, “thank you for delivering this letter. It’s much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome, good sir!” she said, saluting him before leaving the hall.
With that business done, Sam turned around and closed the door, sinking back into his pleasant, serene room where he’d been promised sleep.
He hastily moved to the desk and turned on the night lamp, having forgotten to turn on the other lights seconds earlier. The envelope was placed there, the seal was ripped off, and the packaging was opened
Sam took out the piece of paper.
There it was, the letter in all its medium length, shining brilliantly under the lamp. He scanned it up and down, getting a feel of the whole message. Not sure if it was mouthwriting or that new wingwriting technique he’d heard they were learning, but it all looked the same to him anyway.
Sam adjusted and re-adjusted the letter, flattening it with his hand so that there’d be no creases, that there’d be no room for creases and crinkles and wrinkles. Once that was done, he read:
How are you Sam? I hope you’re doing great in L.A.! Your Dad’s lucky he’s been there before. I still haven’t! I trust you got to walk down the Walk of Fame, yes? Have you tried out going to a theatre, and I mean a real theatre? I forgot to tell you it’s in my bucket list. Anyone could watch a Hollywood movie, but you’ve got to be there to watch the professionals!
You’re wondering how we know you’re already there. You told us the date, silly! Jokes aside, turns out one of our neighbors here in Amble is friends with Canter Crowhop. She’s got one of those prototype hoofphones, and she got word from Canter. We’re so happy that you’ve been helping out so much in the bureau, assisting people during this scary time...and in L.A., no less! Did I write that too many times now?
What about us, then? What have your old folk been doing? I’ll tell you: The both of us have set out on the food scene. It still sounds weird, but the stiff cuisine here’s growing on us. Have you heard of grilled hay drizzled with onion syrup and vinegar? Mm-mmm! So, we’ve moved on from Lacrimal’s onion farm and switched to the grill bar. I and Chase take turns between cooking food and waiting tables. It’s a thing employees do here.
And, could you believe it?! We’ve met ten Earth ponies—and I mean Earth Earth ponies. They were stopping by to travel to Canterlot, so they weren’t residents here, but it was perfect to have some familiar company!
Now, I know you don’t want us to pressure you. You’re twenty-nine; we aren’t bossing you around! Having said that, we’re concerned for you. You haven’t made your choice about what you’ll become when it’s time. We know you’re OK with whatever’s available, even a breezie, but we want to be sure that you’re sure. We don’t want you to regret it for the rest of your life.
But enough of that. I heard another one of Equestria’s villains is on the loose. Apparently, she’s that old evil changeling queen before Thorax took over. They’re saying here that she may be hiding on Earth, but they haven’t pinned down the country just yet. Anyway, it’s all just hearsay until it’s on the news. Don’t forget to keep your guard up. If you’re lucky, you might catch her red-hoofed! Wouldn’t that be fun? “Sam Henry, human hero of Equestria”! I wonder what Twilight Sparkle’s parents must be feeling now.
Anyway, enjoy your night! We’ll be see you when we see you!
From, Mom and Dad (but mostly Mom. Wait, it’s all yours truly, but your Dad has read it over and he agrees with everything!)
That was that. He didn’t cry, he didn’t smile. Sam just acknowledged it. His parents living and loving and laughing in a small country village populated with ponies—it didn’t sound so bad. They wanted him back, though, to see him one more time after he turned into whatever. Perhaps being a pegasus would make the family theme complete, but mastering magic as a unicorn did have its pull on Sam’s mind….
He put the letter back into the envelope, keeping it safe for another read in the future.
Felt something else in the envelope.
Sam paused for a moment, then took out the letter and whatever other stuff was inside.
Turned out that it was a photo of Mom and Dad, both of them pegasi sitting on a hill, facing the camera with the happy town of Amble behind them. Their coats were yellow, and their cutie marks had fire on them, with the mare’s being a candle and the stallion’s being a campfire.
We miss you!, scrawled on the photo.
Their joyous smiles spoke volumes about their attitude right now. Despite living in a dangerous world where a royal assassination meant the end of the sun’s movement, where the spirit of chaos roamed around to ruin anyone’s plans for fun, where arguments came close to collapsing society as they knew it right before the first Hearth’s Warming….
Those parents were pretty resilient under that light.
Sam put the letter and the photo in the envelope, leaving it on his desk. He wanted to bring it back home with him as an heirloom of sorts, one of the last things he’d have before the big move.
Delighted that all he had for the day was truly over, Sam turned off the lamp, dropped onto the bed, and rested, pursuing dreams on that comfy pillow. The minty smell of pine trees topped it off, sending this man to deep sleep.