Trev was called to Conversion that very day, in the afternoon. There was no joy in him, only weary resignation as he entered the Conversion Room.
The doctor, Pastern by name, gave him a measuring look over the rims of her glasses. "Second thoughts?" she asked warily, pausing in her measurements of his dosage.
"No." He shucked off his clothes and sat on the table. "My father came to say goodbye. I tried to talk him into coming with me, but…"
Pastern nodded her understanding. "That's one of the hardest things about all this. But everyone has the right to choose. Even if we think it's the wrong choice."
"What if he's right?"
Pastern raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"My father is a Sikh, and very devout. He still has faith in God and the afterlife. What if…what if Celestia is wrong? Wrong about humans not having souls? What if…what if spirituality in this reality is a–is something Equestrian magic can't detect? Like…like color to someone who's blind?"
"What do you believe, Trev?"
He didn't have to think long. He'd thought about nothing else ever since his father left. "I believe this is it," he said quietly. "I haven't believed in God for a long time. I could never say it, but I think my father knew. I just wish I could have convinced him."
Pastern shook herself a bit and went back to her vials and cups. "He made his choice, Trev. Just like you made yours."
When she handed him the white paper cup, Trev downed its sparkling purple contents at a gulp.
Then he was in a field of soft, fragrant grass that stretched out as far as he could see on every side. The sun was warm and bright and at its zenith in a clear and faultless blue sky.
Trev stood up and looked around him. He could hear a distant rumbling, like low thunder, all around him. It made his heart quicken, not with fear, but with a wild anticipation. It made him want to move. To run.
So he ran. He ran faster than he ever imagined he could, powerful lungs breathing in the sweet air, the ground firm yet yielding beneath his feet.
He was surrounded by a vast crowd, a herd, of ghostly forms, of every color imaginable. Sturdy earth ponies, ethereal unicorns, fleet-footed pegasi. Trev ran with them, one with them, and they welcomed him with restless hooves and open hearts. He was a new member of the herd, but he was no stranger. He belonged. He was not merely accepted, but welcomed.
The herd came to a river, wide and deep, and without hesitation Trev plunged into its waters. The surface was sun-warmed, the depths cool and bracing. Trev swam across to the far bank and climbed out, shaking off droplets that gleamed in the sun like jewels. The herd was gone, but not the sense of belonging, of coming home. He carried that with him as he mounted the grassy slope.
A colorful tent stood in the meadow, crowned with a circular roof and draped with saree cotton in all the colors of the herd. Trev approached slowly, peering into the shadowed interior.
"Hello, Trevinder. I've been waiting for you." Reclining on one of the cushions was a vision of the purest beauty, softly radiant even within the sheltering shadows cast by the cotton tenting.
With a gasp, Trev fell at once to his knees. He spoke in a reverent whisper. "Your Highness…"
Celestia, Princess of the Sun and Ruler of Equestria, tossed her luminescent mane and laughed gently. "Oh, let's have none of that. Come, sit with me for a while."
Somehow Trev managed to get up and enter the tent, walking unsteadily across the woven straw matting and sinking down onto a plush cushion. "You are…" He swallowed. "You are so beautiful…"
Celestia smiled. "Why, thank you. Did you enjoy your swim?"
"It was amazing! All of this is amazing. Is this…is this Equestria?"
"It is, and it isn't."
Trev blinked, startled into candor. "Well, thanks for clearing that up."
She laughed again. "Oh, I like you, Trev! To answer you more concisely, this is a conception of Equestria. It's very like my realm, but seen through the lens of your dream. I wanted to welcome you personally to the herd."
"But why? What makes me so special?"
"You are special, Trev. Each and every one of my little ponies are special, and with so many new ponies soon to be arriving, it would take a very long time for me to visit each and every one personally. In the flesh, as it were. So I thought it would be best to visit you here, so that we can get to know each other without all the pomp and circumstance of a royal visit." Celestia rolled her brilliant eyes. "Formality can be so dreary, sometimes."
"A pony…?" Trev looked down at his hands, only to find that he didn't have hands. Hooves. "Holy crap, I'm a pony! When did this happen?"
"It's happening right now."
"What? Oh…the Conversion…" Trev looked around at the sweeping fields, the brilliant cottons of the tent, the gentle breeze, the soft undulations of Celestia's prismatic mane. "I'm dreaming, but it feels real."
"Reality is based on perception. It's highly suggestive, Trev. One pony's dream could well be another's reality." A brief shadow flickered behind the luminous eyes. "Well do I know how fragile reality can be." She shook her head dismissively, and smiled. "But if this is a dream, consider it the foretaste of your future in Equestria."
Trev chuckled. "You sound like my fath–" He broke off. A heavy black depression eclipsed his joy. "My…father."
"I'm sorry, Trev." And Celestia did look sorry. She gazed at him with deep compassion. "This is supposed to be a joyous occasion. I didn't mean to make you sad."
Trev looked back at her. "Your Highness–"
"Celestia."
"Celestia…what if my father is right?"
She tilted her head quizzically. "About what?"
"About his beliefs. About humans actually having souls that you can't detect. About there really being a God."
Celestia rose from her sky-hued cushion and lay down next to Trev. "I've been watching the Earth for a very long time, Trev, and there is no spark of spiritual vitality in your world. Had there been, the planet itself would have resisted its own destruction. Humanity would have been put into its proper place long ago, and there would have been no need of rescue."
"So…they are all going to die." Grief clutched at Trev's heart, wringing hot tears out of him. "I tried to make him understand…"
"Your father made his choice, Trevinder, and he loved you enough to accept yours, even if he believed it was wrong. Can you do any less for him?"
Trev wept like a child. He found himself enfolded in soft pearlescent wings. He threw his arms–no, his forelegs around the white neck and sobbed against her. He'd done so much weeping today, but this flood of tears brought a true release. His grief over losing his parents, his guilt over not being persuasive enough, his despair for all the people who would rather die than Convert…it all came pouring out of him, through his eyes, down his face, into the silken coat of his new monarch. At last the tears ceased, and he felt calm and, if not completely comforted, at least consoled into a kind of inner peace.
Celestia nuzzled him as if he were her own foal…which, in a sense, he was. "Be happy, my little pony. It's all I want for any of you."
"Fank…yu…" Trev found it hard to speak. His mouth felt strange. His eyes were closed. He couldn't feel Celestia beside him anymore, or smell the grass outside the tent. It was cold. He shivered a bit. His ears flicked.
Ears?
Oh right, I'm a pony now.
"Trev?"
"...suh…Celestia…?"
A startled laugh. "Not even close."
Trev opened his eyes and blinked. Dr. Pastern was leaning over him, grinning with pleasure. "Welcome back, Trev. How do you feel?"
"Kind of loopy…but good." He raised his head and looked around at the sterile confines of the Conversion Room. He couldn't help grinning back at the doctor. "Really good."
"I'm glad. Do you need to rest for a minute or would you like to try standing up?"
"Yeah–hang on–I think–" Trev took stock of his newly formed body. Four legs, covered in a butter-yellow coat. Shiny dark brown hooves. A strange sensation in the vicinity of his butt–he looked–a tail the color of melted chocolate. He swished it, thumped it against the floor, and chuckled. No, he giggled. He felt giddy. He flailed his legs, trying to figure out how to get up off his side. "Gah, I have too many legs!"
Pastern rocked back on her heels to avoid a hoof to the head. "Easy, Seabiscuit. Let's get you rolled onto your tummy first. Then you can sort out how to stand up." Her strong hands helped Trev right himself, and once he had his legs folded under him, standing up was a breeze.
He took a few cautious steps, chuckling (giggling!) at the sound of his hooves clopping on the tile. "This isn't so hard. I can do this."
"You're a natural, kid." Pastern patted his withers. "If you feel up to venturing out, I think somebody–somepony–would love to have a look at you."
She opened the door, and a lavender head poked in. "Trev? Are you–" Her sky-blue eyes went wide. "Trev? Is that you?"
"Well, it's not Chetak of the Maharajah Pratap." He stepped carefully forward, and Lilac rushed him, bowling him over. A standing rack of glass vials swayed dangerously and Pastern had to rush to steady it.
"I was so worried about you! I mean, I know things went really bad with your father and then you had to come in here and go through your conversion and I was so afraid you would change your mind and I'm so glad you didn't. I mean, after your–" Lilac stopped herself. "Oh, Trev, I'm sorry. Me and my big mouth. I shouldn't have brought it up–"
"It's okay, Lilac." And it really was. He would always miss his parents, and he would always be sad that they didn't come to Equestria with him…but Celestia was right. His father had let Trev make his choice. He loved his father well enough to let him choose his own path. He nuzzled Lilac to comfort her. "It's really okay."
"Scoot, you two." Dr. Pastern finished righting the jumbled vials in the rack. "Before you wreck my lab."
Lilac walked with Trev to the cafeteria. It wasn't quite dinnertime yet, but he wanted to show off his new pony self to a familiar crowd. He was surrounded by well-wishers and admirers who couldn't resist petting his silken neck and stroking his rich chestnut mane. Suggestions for a new name, a pony name, came from all sides.
"Buttercup?"
"Dandelion?"
"Cream Corn? No, sorry, that's lame…"
"Sunflower. He definitely looks like a Sunflower."
"Cornbread! He's the right color."
"Hey, Trev!" came a call from the counter. Trev excused himself and went over. "Yes, Ms. Hershaw?"
"I just warmed this up for you." Hershaw set a saucer in front of him bearing one of his morning's creations. "It's the last of the batch you made this morning. I had to fight to protect it–people snapped them up like Equestrian apples–but they say things taste different, better, when you Convert. I don't see how this could get any better, but I was wondering if you'd try it out for me."
Trev breathed in deep. The scents were familiar, but richer, more complex, than he'd ever noticed as a human. Even if he hadn't made this particular treat, he could have identified every one of its ingredients by scent alone. Flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, eggs, buttermilk, a hint of vanilla…and chocolate.
He took a bite and chewed slowly, savoring the blending of flavors that perfectly complemented each other. He swallowed, then turned back to the small crowd.
"I have a name," he said, with a wink at Lilac. "Call me Chocolate Chip Muffin."
The End