Willard felt four points of pressure beneath him. Slowly, a small tunnel of vision was elucidated and Willard could make out his surroundings. The vivid colours of the town around him were unlike anything he had seen outside of a holographic video, and even then the comparison was greatly one sided. In an alternating pattern the pressure points lifted and lowered and the sergeant knew them to be his legs. All around him ponies went on their daily lives, many taking the time to greet him.
Their mouths moved, but no sound came forth. Willard shook his head and turned to see a pony before him, she had a smile on her face and was mouthing something repeatedly. A high pitched whine sounded and then lowered to a deep grumble as the sound became more intelligible.
"Uncle... uncle..."
Willard opened his eyes to a fluorescent light and white walls, cold metal pressed at his side. Where his body made contact with the table he could feel a slightly coarse layer beneath him.
"Hey! you're finally awake!"
Willard's senses cleared and he saw who was speaking to him.
"Monica?" Willard asked, looking at his red-haired niece smiling down on him.
"In the flesh, how are you? Did you dream?" she asked.
"Oh yeah, mostly about tearing off the head of that PER bugger who... woah," Willard started to retort, but stopped when the thoughts running through his head elicited no giddiness.
"Something wrong?" Monica asked.
"Yeah, it’s just, now I know why ponies are less prone to violence. It felt like I was trying to eat something when full," Willard replied.
Someone coughed outside of Willard's vision and her looked over. A pink earth pony mare with a purple mane stood there. "I'm glad to see you've taken the conversion so well, most PER victims go into denial immediately, and you just reached the conclusion yourself.”
"Chalk it up to a good memory... wait! Andrew Wight, what happened to him? A potion grenade went off near him! The shipment! Was there any damage?"
The mare and Monica looked towards Willard, clearly worried. Finally, Monica spoke up, "Bad news or good news first?"
"Good news," Willard responded.
"The shipment is okay," Monica started. Willard felt his new ears flick downward, if the good news was that the cargo was in good condition, then Wight was the bad news. "A few boxes got shot up, but replacing them will be easy enough; we could have lost a lot more." Monica paused, inclining her head to the nurse.
"Your friend, Mr. Wight," The nurse pony began.
"Private First Class," Willard corrected.
"PFC Wight, well you see..." The mare paused and took a deep breath. "Near as we can tell he had an allergic reaction to one of the potion's concentrating agents, he... asphyxiated before the conversion process could heal the damage."
Willard lowered his head and closed his eyes. "God damn it." He opened his eyes and looked at himself, he had come out of the process a deep navy blue. Willard turned his head and looked at his back; no feathered wings had sprouted. Willard lifted a hand... hoof. "Going to have to get used to that," he muttered. He lifted a hoof to his forehead but before he could reach it the mare spoke up again, having read his intentions.
"You're a perfectly healthy earth pony, no complications, save prying off your combat armour." The mare inclined her head to a pile by the table, various plating and energy deflection matrices lying in a heap.
A curl of black and grey hair fell in front of Willard's eye, pushing it out of the way with his hoof, Willard said, "Thanks for that Miss..."
"Ana Thetic," the nurse provided, giving a coy smile and smiling. "Yes, I'm a convert, figured a good pun would make for a good name in light of Equestrian naming practices."
"Well Ms. Thetic, thank you," Willard replied. The dark blue stallion turned to his niece, who was smiling broadly. "What?"
"It's just that I always would have expected you to come out a unicorn," Monica replied.
"Me too, at least I came out my favorite color," Willard chuckled.
Walking to a button on a wall, Ana Thetic pressed it and inclined her head. "Well, its time to see if you can get along on four legs."
The table Willard was situated on lowered to the ground. Willard shifted all four of his legs. At first they waved about uselessly as he familiarized himself with the joints. His hind legs felt particularly strange, the knee being much closer to his hip. He was able to eventually get his four legs underneath his body. With a few more adjustments, his hooves were all pressed against the steel table. He could feel the muted cold through the keratin caps on the end of each limb. He tried wiggling his toes like he would after a medical exam, but there was no joint to move save the one that joined his single massive 'toe' to the rest of his leg.
Willard pressed against the ground with his front hooves, raising himself to a sitting position. He stood up, wobbling for a few seconds, but he didn't fall. Willard lifted one leg off the table and then pressed it to the floor. Lifting his other legs in turn, the newfoal was standing on the bare linoleum floor. The nurse spoke up again. "Don't think too hard about it, just let the instincts guide your legs, but don't try galloping for at least a few more hours."
Nodding his head, Willard made his way to the door and turned back to his niece. "I feel like I've gone a whole damn week without food, care to help me find the cafeteria?"
Monica chuckled, following Willard down the hallway. Fluorescent lights lit it up, and doors on either side punctuated the hall. Other ponies and Conversion Bureau security, ConSec, were making their way around the building.
"The nurse said you would be hungry when you woke up, happens every time. Hang on, let's take an elevator to the cafeteria." Monica pressed a button, and an elevator to their left immediately opened.
The two stepped in and Willard spoke, "Thanks for being there when I came out, it helped. Still torn up about Wight though." Willard cast his look downward to his fore hooves, shifting the new appendages experimentally.
"I had the day off from the archives today, what with the shipment and all. When I got the call that you got hit by PER and were headed for the Manhattan Bureau, I didn't even have to hesitate," Monica stated.
The elevator door opened and the two stepped out into a lounge, seats to accommodate humans and ponies were set around dozens of tables. On the opposite side, a cafeteria was set up to serve synthetic food and some Equestrian imports: fruits, coffee, even bread and oats.
"But all the same," said Monica, "this situation does mean we have to... move up our plans."
"You're right. Now that I've gone pony, I'm no longer military. I could sign up with the Bureau, but that would take weeks, and even then..." Willard drifted off.
"There wouldn't be enough money for me to continue volunteering for my work," Monica said.
The two of them stepped up to the cafeteria serving hub and Monica spoke to the grey pony behind the counter. "Just coffee please." She turned her head to Willard. "I have to make a call, are you alright for now?"
"No problem, I'll be fine once I get in a full meal, I feel like the horse of famine." Willard chuckled as he began asking for a bit of everything, except the synthetic meat dishes, from the pony behind the counter.
Willard grabbed the tray in his mouth and winced a bit as the cold metal touched his molars. Despite the full load Willard felt absolutely no strain on his neck muscles as he kept the tray level. "Must be something to the so-called 'earth pony strength'," he muttered as he placed the tray on a table. Placing his forelegs on the cushioned bench beside the table, Willard lifted himself up, the cushion providing grip for his hooves.
Willard stared down at the plate in front of him. Oats, fruits, a loaf of bread, a bowl of juice, and a respectable pile of 'hay fries' were on his plate. "So... do I just lower my..." Shaking his head, Willard spat out, "Bah, the people who care don't matter, and the people who matter don't care." With that the blue stallion lowered his head and took a bite out of an apple.
The sweet juices cascaded across his tongue as he used his lips to work the fruit into position for another bite. "Damn that's fine grub, not that I want a literal one." Willard finished the apple and took a sip of his juice before starting on the bread, not a single bitter after-taste of synthetic ingredients befouling the delicacy. Monica stepped up to the table and took a seat, nursing the coffee in her hands.
"How'd it go?" Willard asked.
"It went well, Sarah is still trying to catalogue what was lost in the attack, and she's sorry about what happened to you," Monica started.
Willard interjected, "Huh, hope she wasn't talking like I was dead. A lot of people act that way when someone get's converted; old memories of how they were not jiving with the new form."
"Not at all, and she's glad to hear that I'm going to be volunteering for conversion. Turns out she got a message from Equestria, they could really use more people, well... ponies, working on the other side," Monica replied.
"Well, sounds like they're going to get the best gal for the job," Willard spoke through a final mouthful of bread, swallowing the chewed bolus and then clearing his throat as Monica chuckled.
"Hey, give yourself some credit, you really instilled a love of things academic in me."
"I didn't do anything your parent's hadn't started, bless their souls." Willard grew silent, thinking to his niece’s parents, his brother. He remembered receiving the call from San Diego after the HLF bombing. "Hrm," Willard grunted as memories surfaced.
"God I miss them so much," Monica said, supporting her head with an arm braced against the table. "But at least they'd be happy to know I'm safe. They would always take the time to read bedtime stories to me, together." Monica finished her coffee, and Willard was left with just his hay fries on the tray. "Still warming up to the idea?" Monica raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Willard's ear twitched.
"Wouldn't you? I mean I don't even have an idea from the synth-food what this is going to taste like. Still, I can't very well go for seconds when I still have stuff on my plate." Willard grasped a length of straw with his lips and noted the feeling of salt on them. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." With that Willard tilted his head back and began masticating the dish. "Hot dang is this good, lots of salt." Willard finished the dish with gusto and leaped to the ground, not even tripping over his own limbs. "Come on, let's get me set up for acclimatization classes, and you signed up for conversion, maybe we'll luck out and get the same—"
Willard's ears perked up as his ears caught a chirping from the cafeteria entrance. A man with an sonar cane and cataracts in his eyes walked through the cafeteria to the food-serving area with ease.
The two set off down the hallway when Monica spoke, "Man looks like he's had those eyes for a while, must have just decided to get converted."
"Hope he gets what he wants out of it all." Willard looked out of a window with a view of the skyline, skyscrapers reaching out to the infirm teal sky above. "Can't say the sights will warrant celebration though. Hopefully Equestria is as colorful as they say."
The two made their way to the administrative desk, and Willard stepped up to it. A yellow pegasus stallion was at the desk.
"Radrim, Willard you probably got a document when I got here," the blue newfoal said.
"Ah yes," the pegasus replied good-naturedly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Radrim. your classes will be starting tomorrow." The yellow stallion passed a sheet of paper to Willard, and adopted a caring tone. "Is everything alright? Do you need someone to talk to? Your... unconventional conversion experience leaves most ponies rather troubled. The name's Bright Days by the way."
Willard smiled. "I'm quite fine thank you, but if you could help my niece, she'd like to sign up for conversion."
"Very well, Ms.... Radrim I would presume?" Bright days asked, before pulling out a form and pen as Monica nodded. "If you would be so kind as to fill out this form, I can arrange for adjacent rooms and simultaneous classes with your uncle."
"Thank you." Monica smiled, taking the paper and pen and began filling the relevant information for the next few minutes.
"756-4339-017... done." Monica slid the paper back to Bright Days.
The pegasus nodded. "Thank you, now if you'll give me a moment I can get your room and schedule." He used his wings and a pen gripped in his mouth to work the keyboard, and then printed out a sheet. "There, same schedule as Mr. Radrim and a room on the same floor, 7-628 and 7-622 respectively."
Monica and Willard made their way back to the elevators, went up to the seventh floor of the conversion bureau, and found their rooms.
Willard yawned. "Muaaah! I feel like a nap."
"Go right ahead," Monica said, "After today, you deserve the rest, I'll just be waiting for my boss, Sarah, to give me some more details about our trip to Equestria." Monica walked down the hall to her room.
Willard looked at the door, beside it was a panel set at the height of Willard's head, around where his waist would have been had he still been human. Willard lifted a hoof and pressed the panel, opening the door to a room with several bunks.
Stepping inside, Willard saw a painted unicorn stallion, alternating colors of brown and white. "No... They wouldn't be stupid enough to put me into the sa—!"
The painted stallion looked up and smiled. "Greetings fellow convert, and welcome to Celestia's embrace in the light!"
"My mistake, they were that stupid," Willard concluded, stepping back out into the hallway before the PER newfoal could spout off any more propaganda. "Why the hell would they do that? Citizen of Equestria or not, putting me in the same room as him is just plain inconsiderate," the navy earth pony grumbled, heading for Monica's room. "Wait... Why am I only calling it inconsiderate? Dang it, gregarious first nature or not, I've gotta talk to Bright Days about getting me a different room. He must be a politician who went and got converted." Willard turned and headed back down to the lobby.
A few minutes later of walking and fumbling with the elevator controls, Willard found himself in front of the yellow pegasus secretary again.
"Hello Mr. Willard, did you want to have that chat?" Bright Days chirped.
Willard scowled at the pony. "No, I came here to get a room that doesn't involve me being within twenty feet of the bastard—" Bright Days' ears flinched back at the invective. "—who attacked my squad, even if he only succeeded in converting himself, damned idiot."
"My apologies," Bright Days began. "I thought that you might be able to talk some sense into him. He was spouting off codswallop about how evil humans are, and how the princesses support his cause and all that. I figured if he met somepony who was negatively affected by his actions..." Bright days stared down at his desk with a forlorn expression of regret.
"And you really think that's a good idea?" Willard asked incredulously.
"You'd be surprised, he's still going to be punished when he's extradited to Canterlot, but I've seen PER converts regret what they did once they're surrounded by something other than their constant propaganda," the yellow pegasus answered, smiling nervously.
"Well." Willard turned around. "I guess my evening of contentment will have to wait; I've a devil to prod me.”
Monica lay in her bed, going through her DATab and looking over her family history. Her uncle, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and so on. She had spent years gathering the relevant information and soon it would be one of the few things she brought with her to Equestria. Opening the drawer beside her she took out the provided paper and quill.
The only way to get information across the barrier that separated Equestria from Earth was the use of materials from Equestria. Anything from Earth that crossed the barrier was broken into its base elements, and reconstituted to exist in Equestria's vastly different set of quantum rules. A DATab, with its silicon, metal, and plastic, would be reduced to a lump of carbon, iron, and a few other materials. A human trying to cross the barrier would be reduced to a cloud of carbon dust. As such, any written information from earth had to be transferred to Equestrian ink and paper in order to cross the barrier.
Other people going through their lessons for conversion lounged around the room; some sat on beds, others on chairs or the floors with knees tucked to their chests or cross-legged. Most were browsing on their DATabs, and a few others were speculating over whether they would come out of conversion as a pegasus, earth pony, or unicorn.
Monica printed out her name and those of her progenitors for a few minutes when the door opened.
"Sarah!" Monica exclaimed, setting down the quill and paper and greeting her boss and friend. "I thought you were just going to call?"
"And miss out on seeing you one last time like this? Not a chance," Sarah replied, moving some stray black hairs off of her pale face. "I wish this would have happened under better circumstances, but I really am glad to have someone I know personally working on the other side. It's just... there's so much stuff we've got to preserve!"
Monica placed an arm around Sarah. "We're making decent progress, we've got plenty of stories and histories across."
"But its not enough," Sarah said, removing Monica's arm. "Transcribing data onto paper is damn slow." The other people in the room glanced over at the two women. "Maybe we should step outside."
Stepping into the hallway, Sarah continued, "We've only got a few more years before the barrier makes landfall, and then we're really going to have the fire under our asses. Even with the antiquated printers we developed to use Equestrian paper and ink? That only goes so far. I wish the Human Archives Project would hurry up and figure out a way to develop computers that work in Equestria. Without those we'll never get everything down in time," Sarah sighed. Her shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be unloading on you like this. I just want to save every little piece, and I have to realize that some omissions may end up occurring. I really shouldn't be going over my worries after what happened to your uncle."
"Hey, my uncle is fine. He's more adaptable than you give him credit for," Monica said, patting Sarah on the back.
"Really? I just can't imagine having my choice taken away from me like that." Sarah cast a worried glance at Monica.
"We never really planned to stay here, this just pushed up the date a little. Trust me when I say that he's—"
"AND YOU CAN GO AND SHOVE YOUR ZEALOTRY UP HER ROYAL HIGHNESS' ASS!" yelled out a familiar voice from down the hall. A door opened and Willard made his way towards Monica. "Sideways turned, addled in the head thunder-humper!” Willard muttered as he looked up to see his niece and Sarah. "Oh, uh, how much of that did you hear?"
"Celestia's ass." Monica giggled before looking back down the hall. "Who got you so riled up? And how?"
"PER spook who attacked our shipment and gooped out with a potion grenade," Willard replied.
‘Gooped out’ was the term for PER members who converted before capture and thus avoided the more severe punishments for humans.
"What!?" both of the women questioned before Sarah articulated further.
"Why the hell would they put you in the same room as one of the bastards who did this to you?"
"They figured I could talk some sense into the idiot." Willard sighed. "But I forgot that you're not supposed to argue with one, they drag you down to their level and beat you with experience. He needs a serious attitude adjustment."
"So they have a former military man try and play corrective psychiatrist?" Monica interjected.
"I'm sure some diplomatic inspiration will hit me eventually... but I'd prefer it if it hit him." Willard winced. "I just need to figure out how to get at the bottom of that man... stallion... idiot, and figure out what the chip on his shoulder is." Willard looked up. "But first, how are you two doing?"
"We were just discussing how the archive project is going along," Monica replied. "Sarah is a little stressed that progress on developing a thaumic computer is taking so long."
Sarah turned to Monica and nodded curtly. "Yes, but that's a long term concern. I came here to tell you that the documents that were damaged will be replaced and ready for shipping to Equestria in about two weeks. That will give you plenty of time to undergo conversion and make any final preparations before you depart." Sarah lifted her DATab and began punching in a few codes before speaking again. "These are the documents and where they'll be going, some are bound for Canterlot, a few others are being kept in some peripheral archives devoted to certain topics. Most, however, are going to an archive under construction a small distance from Canterlot. Ponyville, it's called, sounds quaint doesn't it?"
"Sounds better than being tucked into a capital, the EarthGov centers are nice and all, but they can be just as crowded as Manhattan," Willard offered.
Willard turned back around and walked off to his room. "Going to try another round with that painted, prospective pin cushion. If nothing else, I can irritate the hell out of him by falling asleep during his oration."
When Willard's door closed, Monica turned to Sarah. "You know I worry about him sometimes; he hasn't even mentioned what he's going to do when he gets to Equestria. I mean—I'm obviously going to be working at the archives, and he's supported me all the way, but sometimes I feel like..."
"He isn't caring for himself?" Sarah offered. Monica nodded. Sarah put her arm around Monica's shoulders. "Both of you are the only family each of you have, you're like a daughter to him. And you know how fathers are." Sarah at this point snickered. "They see their girl's as always five years old with pig tails and skinned knees."
Monica smiled at Sarah, but her eyes denoted no happiness. "Even fathers have to learn to let go some time."
Willard stepped back into his room. When the door shut, he was met with a voice that was rapidly becoming grating against his ears.
"Ahhh, the prodigal son has returned, are you ready to accept the truth of Celestia's saving grace into your heart?"
"No, in fact, if Celestia and a hobo walked in here right now, I'd bow to the hobo first. Now leave me alone, I got shot and converted today, and I want to sleep it off," Willard deadpanned.
"One cannot sleep off salvation," the painted unicorn replied.
Did he seriously misinterpret what I said just so he could keep talking? Willard laid on his side and spoke without moving. "What's your name? Not that I'm likely to stop calling you PER spook anytime soon." Maybe if he talks long enough I can convince this idiot to at least not talk about Celestia like she's the center of both universes.
"I am called..." The unicorn stalled, thinking.
"Haven't gone and decided on a pony name yet? I thought you PER fellows went and chose a name for when you all goop out," Willard prodded. If the stallion hasn't gone that far maybe he's salvageable.
"Blank Slate," the unicorn continued. "I am a newfoal, and prepared to do what I must for my ruler Celestia, whatever she deems me worthy for."
"Great, let me know what Celestia thinks of your actions and name once you have your trial in Equestria," Willard responded.
"Our lady Princess Celestia denies publicly support for the PER, but I know in my heart she only does so to placate brutes such as yourself," Blank Slate responded.
Willard yawned, half out of genuine tiredness and half out of a desire to piss off Blank Slate. "You’re lucky I'm hard to bring to violence, or else I'd show you what a brute really is." I can still mock to my heart's content though.
Blank Slate muttered various counter arguments and insults against the whole of humanity as Willard drifted off to sleep.