//------------------------------// // In which a nation-spanning conspiracy is revealed // Story: The Truth About "Pokey" Pierce // by Chris //------------------------------// The Truth About "Pokey" Pierce Part 4: In which a nation-spanning conspiracy is revealed Pierce sat very still on the straw pile.  He didn’t know what Canker wanted with him; he didn’t know what to do.  Lacking any outlet for his fear, he concentrated on making himself as small as possible.   Canker remained standing, and looked down at Pierce with intense scrutiny. “Tell me, Pokey,” the old stallion asked without preamble, “What do you know about old Canker, eh?  What have you heard about me from the fine citizens of Ponyville?”  His voice had a raspy, abrasive quality which Pierce found vaguely unwholesome. “Nothing really, sir.  I mean, nothing worth mentioning, I don’t-” “I didn’t ask you to stroke my ego, Pokey.  I asked what you’d heard about me.” Pierce swallowed.  “Mostly I’ve only heard folks talk about you when there’s a celebration coming up.  They mostly talk about how to keep you away.  After all, you...well...” “I what, boy?  Spit it out!” “Well...you ruin everything.  Nopony likes you, but somehow you always find your way to every get-together in Ponyville!”  Pierce lowered his head.  “That’s, um, that’s what they say about you.” “Pokey, I’ve been watching you for a while now.   I’ve seen you’re no fool, whatever the rest of the town thinks.  Tell me, did you ever wonder why I’ve made it my business to crash every party in Ponyville?  Did you ever ask yourself what’s in it for me? “Let me put it another way for you.  What do you think I do for a living?” Pierce thought a moment.  He had never considered these questions; he’d never given more than a passing thought to Canker at all, until today.  “I’m...not sure.” Canker snorted.  “Of course you aren’t.  Nopony pays any attention to old Canker, except when he’s out wrecking parties.  They never think to wonder where he gets enough bits to support himself.  Well boy, let me show you something.”  The stallion stepped over to a large chest near the fire and, after fumbling with the lock for a moment, swung it open for Pierce to see. Inside was a massive pile of coins, a greater store of wealth than Pierce had ever seen in one place.  Seeing the colt’s eyes widen, Canker smirked and shut the chest again.  “That’s the problem with this job.  The pay’s good, but I’ve got nothing to spend it on.  Hell, I’m probably the richest stallion in this podunk town, and nopony even knows it.” “I don’t understand,” said Pierce, his fear overcome by curiosity.  “Who pays you?  I’ve never seen you working at any of the shops or farms.  What do you do?” “Oh, I work for a little government organization.  Ever heard of the DPM?”  Pierce shook his head in answer.  “Of course not, its existence is classified.  It’s Celestia’s dirty little secret: the Department of Productivity Maintenance.”  Suddenly, Canker was standing right in front of Pierce.  “How would you like a little history lesson, Pokey?  I can tell you the biggest story that never make it into the history books.”  Unable to do otherwise, Pierce mutely nodded.  “Well then, listen up.  It all started a long time ago, back at the beginning of the Princess’s reign...”  His voice took on a new flavor; it was obvious he was reciting from memory.  And with that, Canker began to tell a story the likes of which Pokey had never heard. ***** Nopony really knows how long Celestia had ruled before the problem became apparent; nopony except Celestia herself, of course, but she never speaks about the past.  At least, not on the record.  In any case, she was still newly come to her position when the troubles began.  At first it seemed like a series of isolated incidents; farmers from one village hadn’t grown enough crops to last the town through winter, weather teams were unable to keep the sky clear in other areas, that sort of thing.  For a while, the solutions were equally stopgap: Celestia would simply order emergency food relief to affected areas, or would increase weather funding for cities with persistent sky-management problems.  But as the years went by, things kept getting worse.  More and more towns needed emergency aid, many on a yearly basis.  At the same time, tax revenue had been steadily declining for years.  The treasury was nearly empty. Desperate for solutions, the Princess sent out one her most trusted court advisers, Sir Vellum Scroll, to travel the land incognito and discover the source of all these problems.  After several months away from the capital, Vellum returned with his report. He found that, whether they were involved in service work, private business, agriculture, or trade, the average adult pony spent only 18 hours a week working, down from 30 a decade before.  In trying to identify the reason for this change, Vellum noted that pony consumption of art, music, and literature was virtually unchanged over the past several years.  Ponies weren’t having more children, or taking longer maternity leaves.  Businesses had seen no decrease in product demand to correlate to their lack of production.  In fact, his record stated that there was overwhelming evidence that most if not all of the total production dropoff being experienced in Equestria had a single root cause: Partying.  (“Partying?” interrupted Pierce.  “But that doesn’t-”  He was silenced by a hoof striking him hard across the face.  “Now, where was I...”) Vellum’s report showed that ponies nationwide spent an average of 6 hours per day engaged in “non-business large group social interaction,” everything from birthday parties and social clubs to company picnics and local holiday celebrations (Which, the report showed, had increased from an average of 7.7 days per year prior to Celestia’s reign to 22.9).  The data was clear: since Celestia took power, ponies were working less and less, and partying more and more. After reading the report, the Princess had it removed from public record and convinced Vellum to accept “early retirement.”  At least, that was the official story. In fact, she gave Vellum access to the royal coffers and instructed him to find a way to surreptitiously promote pony productivity.  Fearful of causing mass discontent with authoritarian injunctions against partying (and feeling that to do so would be unjust and immoral, to boot), she told Vellum to make sure that he did not overtly use royal resources or authority.  It was with these restrictions in mind that Vellum conceived of the Department of Productivity Maintenance. In his travels, Vellum had met many ponies who recognized that their lifestyle was unsustainable.  Seeking them out individually, he offered them lavish salaries if they would perform a crucial duty for the crown.  The price of accepting, however, was high: the work would be taxing and time-consuming, especially at first, and there would be no recognition of their deeds.  Not even their families could know the truth about what they were doing, or the reasons why.  These were the first DPM field agents, and their task was to promote productivity by stopping or reducing the amount of “non-business large group social interaction” that ponies across Equestria were engaging in. Although it was decades before partying began to approach pre-Celestian levels, there were quantifiable results within the first year of the DPM’s creation.  Without ever knowing the larger reason, ponies around Equestria began to party less, and celebrations became both shorter and less frequent. ***** “And that,” concluded Canker, “is what I and thousands of ponies like me have done ever since.  Protect the nation by playing the villain.  It’s the worst job in the world, but somepony’s got to do it.”  The stallion leered again.  “And, truth be told, there are some parts that I find to be quite enjoyable.”   He paused, clearly expecting Pierce to speak.  Pierce, for his part, rubbed his jaw and debated the wisdom of opening his mouth again. “Well, don’t you have anything to say to that, Pokey?  Anything in that story tickle your mind?” “Um, it was...very interesting.  I didn’t know-” “Interesting my hindquarters.  That story’s a load of dung and you know it.”  Pierce’s eyes widened.  “If I thought you were dumb enough to swallow a steaming pile like that, I never would’ve told you the story in the first place.  Now get your head in gear and tell how you know it can't be real.” Unsure how to proceed, Pierce hesitated.  Then, throwing caution to the wind, he announced, “The first time I questioned your story was before you even started.  Why should I trust you at all?”  To his surprise, Canker laughed at this. “That’s a good start, my boy!  Never trust anypony, not unless you have no other choice.  There’s not a mare or stallion out their who won’t betray you for a pile of rusty bits, and if you haven’t figured that out yourself, you will soon enough.  Now, what else?” “First off, there are no records that go back to the beginning of Celestia’s reign.  You might as well try to tell me that the Mare in the Moon is a real story, too.”  Canker nodded, silently encouraging Pierce to continue.  “And there’s no reason for why the ponies started to party too much.  Ponies are ponies, whoever their ruler is.  Why would they start partying all the time just because Celestia was princess?” “Good.  Was that all?” “One more thing.  Celestia would never stand for something like this.  I don’t believe for one second that the Princess could be behind something as deceptive as what you described.  And if she didn’t know from the start, there’s no way she could stay ignorant forever.  As soon as she found out about the Department, she’d shut it down.” “All valid points, although if you dig a little deeper, I think you’ll find that your Princess isn’t nearly so benevolent as she’d have you believe.  Nevertheless, that’s the official story, and it’s good to pay lip service to it if the Administrators should happen by.” “The who?” “Ponies like me are field agents; we’re the ones who do all the dirty work.  Administrators are supposed to make sure that all the field agents are doing their jobs,”  Canker shrugged his shoulders.  “But don’t worry, they almost never come by.  The last visit was over three years ago.  They pretty much just leave us to ourselves.  However, you’re going to have to deal with one pretty soon.” “ME?” Pierce yelped.  “What did I do?” “Well, nothing yet...but an Administrator has to approve all new field agents.  Once I transfer the job over to you, they-” Pierce was already on his feet and moving towards the exit.  “Oh no!  I didn’t sign up for this!  I’m not gonna have anything to do-” He was cut off as a heavy hoof planted itself on his tail, stopping him short of the door. “Now Pokey, I...” as Pierce started to cry out, Canker punched him hard below the ribs.  Pierce fell to the ground, unable to breath.  “I thought you’d have learned better manners than that by now.  Now Pokey, I’m going to let you leave, but I want you to remember something.”  The old stallion leaned in close to Pierce’s face.  His breath was rank with onion and mouldy straw. “You can go back to your regular old existence if you want.  You can live your entire life in this one-pony town, and ten minutes after you’re dead, nopony will even remember your name.  But remember,” His words took on ever-greater vehemence as he spoke, “There’s nopony in this whole flea-bitten, rot-infested town that cares two bits who you are or what you do.  You have no friends, your parents don’t care about you, your teacher thinks you’re an idiot, and there’s not one pony in Equestria that could look you in the eye and say ‘I love you’ with a straight face.   “Becoming a field agent won’t change that.  But I’ve watched you these last weeks, and let me tell you some truth: There is no pony in this town more hated, abused, and ignored than you.” With that, Canker backed up a step.  Pierce rose shakily to his feet, the pain in his side slowly ebbing.  “Those ponies don’t even hate me as much as they hate you, Pokey.  I’m offering you a chance to get back at them every single day, with a guilt-free conscience to boot!  Plus, it’s the best job a sad sack like yourself could ever hope for.  Do you really think anypony in town would ever hire a lazy, stupid, near-magicless unicorn?  Think it over.”  Canker then turned back to tend the fire, which had burned down to embers while they talked.  “Now get out of my house, before I throw you out by your ear.” Pierce stumbled from the shack as quickly as he could, and began making his way home.  Although the night was still young, there were only a few folks about.  Nevertheless, Pierce stuck to the alleyways and backstreets as best he could, trying his best to remain unseen.  At last, he arrived at his home. As he walked inside, his mother looked up from the next room, gave him a distracted wave and half-smile, and returned to her knitting.  His father paid him no mind at all as Pierce made his way to his room and shut the door behind him. He tried to forget about the night he’d had, but doubts assailed him.  He didn’t have any friends; that much was true.  What about Pinkie?  He barely saw her outside of school; the party she’d planned was probably just motivated by pity.  Heh, a Pokey Pity Party, he thought to himself.  That’s got a ring to it.   Was there anypony that loved him?  Well, his parents, of course.  They didn’t seem to know or care that he’d been out all evening, and neither of them noticed the welts on his face and flank.  But surely they loved him, right?  They were his parents... Pierce tried to put such thoughts out of his mind.  I’m just tired, he told himself.  It’s been a long day.  I’ll think more clearly in the morning.  With that, he turned himself over on his bed and concentrated as best he could on falling asleep. The morning’s first light had already broken over the horizon by the time he finally dozed off.