//------------------------------// // Chapter Twelve // Story: The Conversion Bureau: The First Choice // by Westphalian_Musketeer //------------------------------// The next morning Monica, Willard and Miles were walking to their respective jobs within the archives when they rounded a corner. In the middle of the aisle was a large wooden crate with a reptilian tail sticking out of it. As they approached they could hear Spike muttering. “Sum of All Fears, Red Storm Rising, The Bear and The Dragon, Patriot Games, what in the world is a submarine? Ugh, how many books did this Tom Clancy guy write? It’s like that Stephen King all over again!” The purple dragon pulled himself out of the crate with a book in his clawed hand. He looked over at the group and smiled. “Hey there, got a crate just full of books all by the same author.” “Want me to help out shelving those?” Monica offered. “Would I ever! Second day here and you still have energy to work? Pinkie Pie must have gone easy on ya.” “Pinkie Pie?” Miles questioned. “Yeah, helps run Sugarcube Corner with the Cakes, organizes the greeting ceremony for every single newfoal that comes to Ponyville. You know her right?” “Uh, no,” Willard answered, causing Spike to look at him wide eyed. “We took a detour to visit Canterlot, we must have missed her party for any of the other newfoals.” Spike turned back to Monica and walked towards her. “Okay, so, it was nice of you to offer to help but you really should just go see Pinkie Pie. She gets a little angsty if she finds out she didn’t hold a party for a newfoal. Now please go before she gets in here with her party cannon and ends up leaving me to clean confetti out of all the Stephen King books again!” “Why does she have to throw us a party?” Miles asked. “I don’t need to be introduced to the town. I just want to keep to my little corner.” Spike looked at the grey unicorn like he had asked why water was wet. “It’s just part of who she is. It’ll be good for you to socialize anyway. Her parties make for a great crash course in meeting members of Ponyville” Spike coiled his legs after grasping a book with his tail. Leaping up, he unfurled his wings and began taking deep strokes at the air. As he elevated himself to where the book was to be shelved he continued speaking. “So basically, your work for today is to make friends.” As he placed the book into the shelf he added, “Sheesh, what was that phrase, deja vù?.” Miles and Willard looked at each other briefly before turning around and walking out of the aisle. Monica trailed behind them, and when they reached the main avenue they looked about. “Monica,” Willard said as he turned his head from one direction to another, “think you could fly up and help us figure out where the exit is?” “Absolutely.” Monica jumped into the air and started flying in an upward spiral. She entered into a hover and pointed with a hoof. “That way.” She started off in the direction she had indicated with Miles and Willard following on the ground. The three newfoals were standing in front of a house that for all intents and purposes looked to be constructed out of gingerbread. They had asked several ponies around Ponyville about where Pinkie Pie lived and had all been given the same description. “This place is weird,” Miles announced. “It’s like I stepped into that lame story about the two abandoned children, ‘Hansel and Gretel’.” “Yes well, I doubt whoever lives in there is a witch who’s going to try and bake us,” Willard responded as he took a step towards the door. “Looks open, come on.” Opening the door with a hoof, Willard walked in and held the confectionary threshold open for Miles and Monica to go through. As the bell to the door rang a happy voice rang out. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner! How can I—GASP!” Before Willard could turn to the counter where the voice came from, a bright pink mare with a flamboyantly curly and bouncy mane pressed between him and Miles. “Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie and you’re new in town because I know everypony in town but I haven’t seen you three before which means I have to introduce you to everypony!” The ecstatic mare turned around, whipping Willard upside the head with her tail, which smelled of cotton candy. She pressed her face to Miles and continued. “So what’s your name? Are you a newfoal? Or are you just moving in? What sweets do you like? What about music? OH! Do you prefer streamers or balloons?” Miles looked wide eyed at the mare as he backed away slightly. “U-uh, s-streamers?” Pinkie Pie was off in an instant and Miles made the mistake of taking a deep breath. As soon as he did so, a loud bang went off behind him and he was covered in streamers. “Gah!” he yelled as his back legs shot out, knocking a cannon onto its side. Before he could recuperate the seemingly psychotic mare was in front of him again. “Omigosh sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you honest! Most ponies love my party cannon! So what else can I do for you?” Monica coughed and answered. “We just wanted to get the introductions and party over with. I’m Monica.” The green pegasus gestured to herself. “That is my uncle, Willard.” Her hoof pointed to her blue guardian. “And that is Miles, our friend.” She swept her hoof to point at the unicorn who was gasping for air as though he had a heart attack. “Hi Monica, it’s great to meet you and your friends!” Pinkie responded as she slid over to the pegasus. “So you’re newfoals huh? Let me just get all the arrangements set up and we can officially introduce you to your new neighbours and friends here in Ponyville!” With that, Pinkie Pie dashed back to the counter and called into what the others assumed was the kitchen. “Mr. Cake! I have to set up a party for newfoals! Seeya thanks bye!” She bolted out the back door as a lanky yellow stallion stepped out of the kitchen. Seeing the somewhat traumatized Miles, the presumed Mr. Cake chuckled. “She didn’t leave any permanent damage I hope?” “I feel violated,” Miles responded with a slightly higher than usual pitched voice. He shook off the streamers clinging to him. The yellow earth pony baker leaned on the counter and brought his fore hooves together. “Yes, she is rather... exuberant. But her heart is in the right place!” “Yeah, I think I’ll have to wait until I see if I survive this ordeal before making that call,” Miles responded as the three newfoals walked up to the counter. “Any advance warning about the party?” “Why yes, don’t offer to do anything with her,” piped a voice behind them. They turned around to see a maroon unicorn with a yellow mane sitting at one of the tables. “Nothing against her personally, it’s just that with her parties, eventually you will do all the usual things, dance, play games, talk, better if you just let it unfold at its own pace.” The pony lifted a cup of coffee to his lips and drank deeply. He was wearing a brown vest that draped around his shoulders and wore a top hat on his head. On his flank was an image of two perfectly cut topazes. Lowering the cup from his lips, the unicorn stood up and walked to the others. “Alan Topatz, co-owner and assistant manager to Ponyville’s very own Carousel Boutique, at your service.” His hat levitated in a field of magic and lowered itself to his chest. “If I have gathered anything from your encounter, would I be correct to surmise that you are newfoals, hmm?” “Yes,” Willard replied quickly. “Wonderful!” Topatz exclaimed. “Let me just say that if any of you ever feel a tad exposed, or want to look particularly dapper, my wife and I offer a wide variety of fashionable lines to appeal to an even wider variety of tastes.” A door behind the bakery counter opened, and Pinkie Pie stepped inside. “Ah, well, I’ll leave you three to mingle with the rest of the town,” Topatz announced. “Don’t be strangers!” With that the top-hat-wearing stallion stepped out the front door of Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie Pie stepped beside Miles, who took a large step away from her as he grimaced. The pink mare looked over at Willard and Monica and smiled broadly. “Iiiiiit’s reaaady!” She began bouncing on her hooves as she giggled. “Already?” Monica asked. “Yep! Follow me!” the mare bubbled as she turned back to the door she had come in through. The three newfoals followed the pink mare to find themselves on a large stage built on the back of Sugarcube Corner. They were facing a respectable number of ponies who had gathered. Pinkie Pie pulled out a microphone from nowhere and cleared her throat before launching into a speech. “Mares and gentlecolts!” she happily declared. “We’re here today to say hello to three all new ponies to Ponyville.” The pink mare skipped over to Monica where she began. “First the forest green firecracker of Monica!” She hopped over to Willard. “Her blue but happy uncle, Willard!” At last she slid to Miles and shouted. “And last but most certainly not least! Miles!” The pink mare pushed the microphone between the three newfoals and asked brightly. “So anything you’d like to say to everypony?” Willard looked out the sides of his eyes to his niece and and friend. “Uh... hi.” Monica smiled sheepishly before giving her own reply. “Likewise.” The crowd focused on Miles who shifted nervously on his hooves. “Ditto.” “Unbelievable!” Pinkie hollered as she threw the microphone up in the air and called out to the audience. “There you have it folks, now go ahead, enjoy the food, drinks, games, and company!” The pink mare ran offstage to join the guests. As the three newfoals left the stage, Willard noticed a yellow, pink-maned pegasus leave the group of gathered citizens. On her flank was a bunny with a rather cantankerous expression on his face, and a pebble wrapped up in his paws. At the bottom of the steps Miles leaned into his friends and whispered, “So, never come here again?” Monica’s wings fluffed up as she offered her own reply. “It wasn’t that bad. Besides, I’m sure this is just a one time thing.” “Yeah, a bit eccentric, but I’m sure we’ll all look back on this experience and laugh one day,” Willard added, looking to see what there was to do at the party. Off in one corner was a mat next to a music player. “No, don’t feel like dancing,” he mumbled. Monica looked up at the sky. “I’d rather be flying.” Miles saw up against a wall where various ponies had gathered. One of them, a unicorn, was blindfolded and stepping to the wall. On the wall was the depiction of a tailless pony. Soon the unicorn attempted to place the tail on the picture. At the sight Miles rolled his eyes. “Anyone else think that’s slightly messed up?” Before the conversation could proceed any more, party-goers gathered around the group. Soon the newfoals were swamped by introductions and questions. “Hello! Berry Punch I run the bar in town! You prefer white or red wine?” “Mayor Mare, Mayor of Ponyville, it’s so good to see new ponies come to our humble little town.” “Raindrops, senior assistant manager at Ponyville weather control! Big pleasure!” “Ditzy, mail mare here in town. Where will you be living so I can deliver any mail for you?” “Colgate, don’t let the cutie mark fool you, I’m great with oral hygiene! Fast too!” “Apple Bloom, I help Zecora just outside of town with making medicine. Pleasure to meetcha! Ain’t that right Big Macintosh?” “Eeyup.” “Rose Luck, I’m one of the town florists. You ever need any flowers for a special occasion, or somepony, I can help!” “Doctor Stable, I work at Ponyville hospital. Would you care to answer some questions so I can have you registered to our files in case of a future emergency?” The brief discussions continued on into hours with the guests of honor taking brief hiatuses in order to simply play a game or enjoy some food. As each inhabitant of the town was introduced, Willard looked around, trying to keep track of all the names. Eventually, the party winded down and the group returned to the library. Spike was sitting at his desk in the main foyer. “Meet any interesting ponies?” he asked. “We met many ponies,” Willard answered. “And now we can get to serious work,” Monica added. “Tomorrow,” Spike stated flatly. “Beg pardon?” Miles questioned as he stopped heading to the staircase. “It’s getting late, but I’m sure you’ll all be quite content over the next few days. Now,” Spike said as he walked over to a shelf and pulled out a rather large, cushioned basket. “I’m going to be turning in for tonight. Good luck with the whole ‘writing down everything everyone ever wrote’.” Spike settled into the basket and smacked his lips together. “Stipends should be distributed the day after tomorrow, maybe use it to get some comforts for the barracks?” he mumbled as the newfoals went down the stairs to the archives. Monica was flitting about various shelves, organizing recently returned books. Large sections of the archive had been opened to the public once duplicates for various works had been made. The green pegasus fished through her recently purchased saddlebags for one of the books. It was an autobiography of Sir Winston Churchill, some government leader from well over a hundred and fifty years ago. Monica hovered a few feet away from the stone shelf and gingerly handled the tome as she slid it into the shelf. She looked back to her saddlebags and gave a broad smile. “These things really cut down on the number of trips back to the ground I need to make.” Monica had used the stipend she received just that morning, having made a quick trip to the market and buy the saddlebags. Monica placed another autobiography in place when she heard a voice from the other side of the shelf. “Horseapples! Why is he going on about how bad he was? Where are the action novels?” Placing the last book in her saddlebags into its respective spot on the shelf, Monica began hovering upwards. She soon reached the top of the shelf thirty feet above the ground. A meter wide, the top of the shelf gave Monica’s hooves plenty of room to find purchase as she landed on the stone. Peering over the edge, Monica saw a cyan pegasus with a rainbow-colored mane browsing the shelves. “This seems promising...” the cyan mare said as she pulled out a book. “Foreword, yawn, introduction, bleh, ‘I was bo’—argh! None of these are adventure books. What is this?” The mare put the book back in its place. “Excuse me miss?” Monica piped up as she entered into a hover over the shelf. “Wah-huh?” The chromatic-maned pegasus looked around her until she saw Monica as she lowered herself to be level with the garishly hued flyer. “Monica Radrim,” Monica said as she extended a forehoof. “Is there anything I can help you with?” “Uh yeah, what’s up with all these books?” the cyan one asked. “I’m in the ‘A’ section, but none of them are adventure novels. Twilight told me humans had some really good stories with lots of action in them.” “We’re in the autobiography section of the archives,” Monica answered. “Autobio-whatnow?” the brightly colored pegasus asked. “Autobiographies, if you’re looking for adventure novels, you can follow me just this way, miss...?” “Oh yeah, Rainbow Dash,” the pegasus finally bumped her hoof against Monica’s. With that, Monica turned around quickly and began leading Rainbow around the shelves. Rainbow Dash? Isn’t that the pony Soarin mentioned? the green pegasus thought as she let her mouth gape open slightly. “So, what exactly is an autobiography?” Rainbow asked. “It’s a book that a person writes describing their entire life, or as much as they can remember,” Monica answered. “What they loved and hated and when, why they did the things they did.” “So like a diary?” Rainbow offered. “Kind of, but with the intention that it will be read by others.” Monica turned around to smile at Rainbow as they floated down to the ground. “But there must have been like... hundreds of books like that!” the cyan mare exclaimed as they landed on cold stone and trotted down the massive underground chamber. “All of them just ponies... er people, talking about themselves?” “Well, yes, there have been quite a few people who have written their own biographies.” Monica raised an eyebrow at the incredulous look Rainbow was giving her. “Don’t ponies have those kinds of things published?” “U-uh...” Rainbow stammered. “I’m pretty sure the only thing that comes close to that was some diaries from famous ponies in the past. Though I’d have to ask Twilight. That just seems... weird... I mean, just writing about yourself? Nothing else?” “Well, yes, it’s an opportunity for a person to be remembered by. To show the things they’ve done, their regrets, accomplishments, what they’ve thought. Some write it in order to find out who they are.” Monica led them into the fiction section and sat on the hewn rock floor. “Well here we are, fiction, long form.” “YES!” Rainbow yelled as she started scanning the various books. “Wow, uhm, there’s a lot here? Got any recommendations?” Monica floated up as scanned some of the books. Her selection narrowed to tales from antiquity, to Ancient Greece, to the Homeric poets, and down until she reached for the book she thought Rainbow would enjoy. Clutching the book between her fore hooves, Monica went over to Rainbow Dash. “The Odyssey and The Illiad. Those are both fairly adventurous. They’re some of humanity’s classics.” Monica smiled broadly as Rainbow dash took the book and placed it in her own saddlebag. “Thanks for the suggestion, but what do you mean it’s a classic?” Rainbow inquired. “Oh well, it’s just a story that most people have to read for school at some point,” Monica answered, shrugging and drawing a circle in the air with a hoof. “Huh,” Dash commented, “so have you read a lot of these books?” The mare gestured with a hoof to the whole gallery. “Not even relatively speaking,” Monica chuckled. “But I could probably direct you towards a section you might enjoy in the future.” “I’d like that.” Rainbow Dash lowered herself to the ground; Monica followed suit. “Hey, you’re new in town right?” the cyan mare asked as she landed on the ground. A quick nod from Monica bid her continue. “So that means you’ve met Pinkie Pie already. All the power to ya for getting through that. How’d you like to experience some more... toned down hospitality? It’d be nice if you could tell me how to get around down here without running into some books about a guy going on about how wicked he was or some such thing.” She rolled her eyes and blew a few strands of rainbow hair out of her eyes. Monica looked away briefly before nodding. “Sounds good, where would I meet you?” “Just a little ways out of town, at Sweet Apple Acres,” Rainbow answered. “Just follow the apple trees, you’ll either see the barn and house eventually, or mine above it if you fly there.” Rainbow dash looked around the archives and chuckled. “Uh, don’t suppose you know the way back huh?” Casting a quick glance at the signs on the shelves, Monica pointed with a hoof in one direction. “Straight that way. The door will be near the balcony.” “Thanks,” Rainbow said as she made her way down the indicated direction, quickly taking off and flying amongst the shelves. Willard pulled back the cart to the diamond dogs and slipped out of his harness. He sat by a shelf as he observed several of the canids quickly bring rocks, boulders, and debris into the cart. Among them were several coat colorations. Some had pushed in snouts like a bulldog and others were elongated like a fox or doberman. Willard was reminded of a dog breeding book he had stumbled upon while idly going through the archives back on earth. Life on earth had been reduced to humans, bacteria, and a few kelp-based crops, but somehow information on breeding dogs had been kept. Cyrus walked over and looked at his crew working. He placed his paws on his hips and glowered. “Cyrus!” Willard called to the bulky diamond dog. There had been one or two diamond dogs that were still bigger, but only by a few inches. Cyrus turned to Willard and scowled. “Yes?” “I was just wondering why some of your crew look fairly different from one another,” Willard stated. “My pack is strong, many breeds. Lupine, vulpine, even some trolls,” he pronounced gutturally in response. “Wait a tick, you’re getting better at this talking thing, what happened?” Willard asked. “The trolls in my pack can barely speak a coherent sentence. It is something of a running joke. They’d never realize it in all likelihood. They’re that miserable trio that goes through the rubble you bring to them, finding any gems we missed.” “Okay, so trolls aren’t that friendly,” Willard said, earning a snort from Cyrus. “Anything else useful to know?” asked Willard. “The Lupine are strong.” Cyrus pointed to himself. “The Vulpine are fast on their feet, and trolls are, admittedly, the best diggers, but also greedy: they put valuables above the pack.” The hulking diamond dog walked towards the earth pony and pressed his face to Willard’s. “You would do well to remember that the pack is the most important thing to diamond dogs. Together, we’re stronger than alone. That is why I will not stand ponies who don’t respect the pack, understand?” Willard looked into the creature’s eyes for a few, long, silent moments. “You have a system of working together, and you don’t like it when others don’t respect how you make yourselves strong. I get it; I’m fairly certain a pony would be just as insulted if their way of doing things was aggressively criticized.” “As the trolls in my pack would say: ‘Hurgh, too many words to say simple thing.’ But yes,” Cyrus answered, stepping back. “You might understand the pack one day. Good.” Cyrus looked at the cart to see it was full again. “Time to pull,” he said to Willard as he pointed to the harness. “Yeah yeah, I’m moving it, guess your pack’s all the stronger with me taking out the—” Willard slipped into the harness and pulled. “—Ergh! Thousands of pounds of garbage!” He began pulling before he turned. “What are the troll’s names?” “Fido, Spot, and Rover.” As Willard trudged away with the rocks in tow, Cyrus walked back to the rock wall his dogs were excavating. He smiled as he noted a small sapphire poking out of the rock. “Suppose he’s better to listen to than a unicorn.” Miles was walking to a round, two storey, purple-and-white building. In the glow of his magical field he floated the small bag of bits of his first stipend. With the highly informal permission of Willard, he had decided to use the stipend on some creature comforts. Food and beds were provided for at the archives, so Miles could simply use his money on some other needs. The grey unicorn walked into the building and was happy to see various mannequins arranged inside. It was indeed the clothing store as he had been told. Standing by a counter with a register sitting on top, Alan Topatz was browsing a newspaper when he looked up. “Ah, come to get some clothes? How are you doing today Mr. Miles?” the maroon stallion asked. “I was looking for something that would cover me up. I’ve been going about like—” Miles swished his tail to make the point. “—this for a while, and it would be nice to have some pants. “Pants hmm? Well, we have some items here that should fit the bill nicely. Right this way,” Topatz instructed as he walked out from behind the counter. Topatz walked over to some shelves with Miles in tow. On the shelves were several sets of clothes that were marked with their sizes. “Now I do believe you’re on a budget yes?” Topatz looked back to see his newfoal customer give a nod. “Then I suggest some of these premade clothes. The waist tie is adjustable; do you know how to tie knots as a unicorn yet?” Again Miles nodded. “Right then, medium ought to do it for you,” the yellow-maned unicorn mumbled as he floated out a set of denim pants. The article of clothing had a large pockets on the sides, a drawstring waist tie, and rather baggy pant legs. “Go ahead and try them out,” Topatz insisted, letting Miles grasp the clothing with his own magic. He stepped into the pants and cinched them tight. The grey unicorn wiggled a little bit and soon managed to squeeze his tail through a hole that was in the back. Miles turned to Topatz and shifted in his new set of clothes. “I like it!” he exclaimed. “Excellent! Can I interest you in purchasing a second pair my boy, hmmm?” Topatz leaned towards Miles, grinned widely, and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think I can afford that,” Miles said. “Wonderful! Right this way.” Topatz floated out a second pair of pants and walked to the register. He pressed a few buttons on his register and opened it. “Twenty bits please and thank you.” Miles floated out the money and gave it to the salespony. As Topatz tended the register, the newfoal found himself staring at his top hat. Topatz looked up at Miles and smiled brightly. “The wife says it makes me look dashing, and I agree.” “Ah,” Miles said, lifting his head and brows in a curt nod of understanding. Miles took his other set of pants and exited the door. When the bell stopped ringing a white unicorn mare with a purple mane stepped down the stairs. “Well, I’ve finished my work on that idea I had. Was that a customer I heard leaving?” Topatz leaned into the mare when she came to a stop beside him. “Yes Rarity hon, newfoal, Miles he said his name was.” Rarity bit her lip. “Happy with his purchase?” “Very much so.” Rarity closed her eyes and hummed contentedly. “I’m so happy to be able to help newfoals get comfortable in their new lives.” Topatz rested his neck across Rarity’s. “Mhm, you always make me comfortable, my little pillow.” Rarity tugged Topatz’ hat over his eyes with her magic and smiled. “Now Al, we might have another customer come in any minute.” She slipped out from underneath his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll just be examining my work to see if it looks as good as I thought it would be.” Miles arrived back at the library. When he stepped through the door, he saw Spike was still at the desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment. The purple dragon looked up with a flat expression. “Bought pants, I see,” he commented. “Most newfoals end up buying something from Rarity, how was she?” “She wasn’t there, just an Alan Topatz.” Miles stepped towards the stairs leading to the archives. “Oh, yeah, Rarity’s husband, how was he then?” Spike’s wings hung flaccidly at his sides. “He’s a natural-born salesman; I’ll give him that. Knew exactly what I needed to stay umm...” Miles blushed. “Concealed.” “There’s gotta be more to it than that,” Spike said. “I mean, between your tail, legs, and the rest, nopony sees anything! Even if they did, it’s not like it would turn them to stone like a cockatrice stare.” Miles pursed his lips and let the corners of his mouth pull up. “I suppose nostalgia means nothing to you?” “I’m a dragon, nostalgia is pretty important, comes with the hoarding instinct.” Spike placed his quill to the side and scratched his chin in thought. “But what’s nostalgic about pants?” “You just get used to the feeling of being covered after a lifetime,” Miles answered. “And it’s something that you don’t have to give up.” Spike picked up the quill and resumed writing. “Suppose everyone has something they’d rather not let go of,” he mumbled.