The Truth About "Pokey" Pierce

by Chris

In which old values are re-examined

The brown unicorn locked eyes with Pierce, her fury and intensity making him blanch.  “Mr. Pierce, I have been in this town less than six hours, and already I’ve witnessed you engaged in two separate acts of breaking and entering, not to mention arson.  I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how INCREDIBLY ILLEGAL your actions are, and I’d like to know exactly...”  To Pierce’s confusion, she trailed off, her gaze shifting away from his eyes and towards his rump.  “...erm, what is that?”

Pierce looked at his backside.  Once the fireworks had started going off, he’d been too busy running for his life to worry about the stranger who’d grabbed his tail.  Looking at his rear, he now realized what had happened.

Still clinging to his tail was a miniature alligator.  It was covered in black soot, but appeared otherwise unharmed.  As he looked at it, the tiny creature gave an equally tiny cough, revealing its toothless pink maw.  Then, it attacked his tail once more with renewed vigour.

Pierce groaned.  “Oh Gummy, why’d you have to surprise me like that?”  He turned to the bemused unicorn and explained, “That’s just Gummy.  He’s Pinkie’s pet.”  With a grunt, he pushed himself up on his hooves.

A sudden force, firm but not painful, shoved him back to the ground.  “Oh no,” said the brown unicorn, her horn glowing slightly as she held Pierce down, “You aren’t going anywhere until you explain to me exactly what you’ve done to this town.”

Pierce growled, “And who are you?  Just some-”

“You may address me,” she calmly spoke over him, “As Administrator Gauge.”  With that, she handed Pierce a scroll with the DPM seal stamped at the top.  

As he examined the document, he felt a cold lump growing in his chest; the stamp, the signatures, everything was correct.  He’d only met an Administrator on two previous occasions; once shortly after he’d formally accepted his apprenticeship, and once after Canker’s death, when he’d officially been put in charge of the Ponyville area.  Both times it had been the same pony, a middle-aged ochre pegasus who had looked at over the records, chatted shop for a while, and quickly departed.

“What happened to Administrator Tart?”

“That’s neither your concern nor your business.  You are going to immediately explain to me what you were doing and why I shouldn’t banish you from Equestria on the spot.”

Pierce didn’t know exactly what powers the Administrators wielded, but Canker had spoke more than once about their ability to remove ‘troublesome details.’  Looking up at Administrator Gauge’s face, Pierce felt with icy certainty that her threat was no idle bluff.

Not knowing what else to do, Pierce told her everything that had happened.  He described Pinkie Pie and her "unusual" talent, and told the unicorn everything he had done since he’d woken up that morning.  He told her how he’d broken into Pinkie’s house, and how he’d abandoned his plan to rob her at the last moment.  He told her about the candle, and the fireworks.  He omitted no detail.

He had noticed the cutie mark on the brown unicorn, a pair of balanced scales; he saw how her horn began to glow more brightly as soon as he started talking.  He was quite certain lying to the pony would be fruitless at best.

As he told his tale, the Administrator's visage shifted from anger to disbelief, and finally to frustrated resignation.

“...And once the fireworks began going off, I ran towards the door as fast as I could.  As I was running, I felt some sort of shock-wave hit me, and then I was here,” Pierce concluded.  “I thought I was dead.”

The Administrator snorted.  “You might well have been in some danger, had I not teleported you here.  Nevertheless, the ‘shock-wave’ you felt was most likely a result of my casting, not of a concurrent explosion.  Teleporting others is a bit...tricky, especially when one is doing it sight unseen.  Consider yourself lucky you escaped with only a bit of singed hair.”  She stared into Pierce’s eyes for several long moments, then said, “I believe your story.  Since it’s clear to me that the fire was not deliberate, I’ll withhold judgement for the moment.  Now then, I’ll need to see your records for the last year.”

Pierce tried again to rise, but found he was still being held firmly on the ground.  “Oh no,” the Administrator warned, “You aren’t going anywhere yet.  Simply tell me where you keep your documents, if you please.”

Pierce’s mind raced.  Canker had taught him the value of keeping clear and concise records... preferably several different sets, depending on who would be looking at them.  The books he’d prepared for Administrator Tart were resting in the top left-hoof drawer of his small desk.  Those books told of a much quieter Ponyville than his personal records.

Involuntarily, he glanced again at Administrator Gauge’s cutie mark.  He sighed; all that work for nothing.  “In the desk behind you.  Second drawer from the bottom, on the left.”

Pierce waited in silence while she carefully poured over his notes.  Whoever she was, the Administrator’s magic was powerful: she had been exerting arcane energy almost constantly since she teleported him and herself to the shack, yet she showed no signs of exhaustion.  There were only a few other unicorns in Ponyville, and none had near the raw power of this pony.  Pierce abruptly felt glad that he was a DPM agent in a primarily earth pony town; it certainly made his job easier.

At length, the Administrator put down the papers and returned her attention to him.  “Well, these reports certainly make for some interesting reading.  In fact, I think this answers several of my questions.

“Tell me Mr. Pierce, what exactly is your job?”

Pierce quoted by rote, “It is the duty of every DPM agent to ensure that pony productivity is maintained in his or her region of authority.  DPM agents will prevent excessive waste and consumption, to a degree which ensures that the proper functioning of all social and national duties within the region is maintained.”  Canker had made him learn that exact piece to repeat to Administrator Tart when Pierce first accepted the job.  He felt a shiver run down his spine as he recalled the punishments for misremembering a single word.

“Very well said.  That would no doubt be entirely ‘by the book,’ if we had a book for our recruits.”  She looked thoughtful a moment.  “I suppose it isn’t practical, but a book would be handy.  It might help prevent situations like this.

“Now if you’re quite done quoting, I’ll ask you again: what is your job?  Describe what you do in laypony’s terms, if you please.”

Pierce thought a moment.  “Well...mostly I break up parties.  That’s how everything got started back at the beginning of Celestia’s reign, after all.  That’s a full-time job by itself--I already told you about Pinkie.”

“I suppose I should have expected this when I first read the dossier.”  The Administrator bent down, putting her head level with Pierce’s.  “Mr. Pierce, I don’t know exactly what training you received during your apprenticeship, but the DPM doesn’t care two bits whether or not ponies are partying.”

“Come again?”

“The Department was put into place because ponies weren’t doing enough actual work to feed the population and maintain the government.  According to your figures, Sweet Apple Acres alone produced more than enough food this year to feed all of Ponyville and the surrounding area.  Despite being a relatively small agrarian community, this town is one of Equestria’s top tax contributors per capita.  Clearly, productivity is not a problem in this jurisdiction.”

Pierce grunted.  Administrator Tart had said something similar when he came to visit last year: “You don’t need to stop every party, my lad!  Just as long as these numbers stay high!”

Before he could answer, he felt a sharp pain in his backside.  Twitching involuntarily, he looked back at Gummy.

The little reptile had been happily gnawing on Pierce’s tail for some time now, all but forgotten by the blue unicorn.  Now, however, it seemed he’d learned a new trick: he grabbed a single hair from Pierce’s backside in his mouth, then rolled around on the floor until the hair was wrapped around his snout several times.  With his grip secured, he yanked the tail hair from Pierce’s rump.

Pierce turned his head back to the brown unicorn.  “Administrator Gauge, I promise you I’m not going anywhere.  Could you please let me up so I can deal him?”

The Administrator nodded, and Pierce felt the gentle pressure on his back ease.  Rising, he walked to a small cabinet, from which he produced a length of rope.  Gummy proved quite resourceful in eluding the (now thoroughly annoyed) Pierce, but eventually the tiny alligator found himself trussed up like a pig.  Administrator Gauge offered no help; the enjoyment she took in watching Pierce try to rope up the miniature reptile was evident.  With a relieved sigh, Pierce set the creature near the fire, away from his damp and tangled tail.

That done, he returned his attention to the Administrator.  Chasing Gummy had given him a chance to regain his bearings.  He faced the brown unicorn, still afraid of what she could do to him, but no longer floundering and out of his element.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re satisfied with the productivity index here in Ponyville.  I’m also glad that you agree that the incident at Pinkie Pie’s house, while regrettable, was merely an accident.  That being the case, I believe our business here is concluded.”

The Administrator bristled.  “Mr. Pierce, you would do well to presume less and listen a bit more.  I’m not at all satisfied with the way things are being run here, and I-”

“I’m sorry, Administrator Gage.  I was under the impression that field agents have broad freedom to act within their jurisdictions as they see necessary.  You agree that I’m doing my job exceptionally well, what more is there to discuss?”

“Pierce, have you ever had any friends?”

The question was so absurd, so out of place, that Pierce stopped despite himself.  In the pause, Administrator Gauge continued, more quietly now, “I’ve seen the collected reports on your predecessor, Mr. Canker.  His methods were...unorthodox, to say the least.  However, his district showed a marked increase in productivity by nearly every metric when he took the assignment.  The last few Administrators in this region decided to tolerate his eccentricities.

“Pierce, being a field agent sometimes means making tough decisions.  It sometimes means being the voice of reason, alone in the wilderness.  Sometimes it means doing things that nopony else is willing to do.  You know all this; you wouldn’t have taken this job if you weren’t prepared to make those kinds of hard decisions.

“But this job does not require you to be the town’s resident boogy-mare.  Pierce,” the Administrator had stepped closer as she spoke; her eyes were boring into his as they stood a mere pace apart, “Ponyville is a healthy, productive, vibrant place.  What this town is missing is a little happiness.  Can you give them that?”

For a long time, neither spoke.  Both held one another’s gaze.

Pierce looked away first.  Swallowing thickly, he said, “‘Happiness’ is not one of the metrics which I’m supposed to track.  If there’s nothing else, I have work to do.”

The Administrator nodded sadly.  “I was afraid you might say that.  I really could have you banished, you know.”

Pierce looked at her hooves.  “I know.  But you aren’t going to.”

“No, I’m not.  I’m going to let you keep working here, Pierce.  I’m going to let you do what you want.  What exactly that entails, I leave to you.”

She turned to leave, but as she opened the door, she paused.  “Don’t you want to know why I won’t stop you, Mr. Pierce?”

Pierce still couldn’t meet her eyes.  He said nothing.

“I’ve always had a talent for ferreting out the truth.  But more than that, I discovered years ago that I could read ponies; I could tell what was in their hearts.”  She paused, putting a hoof to her chin.  “Well it sounds terribly cheesy when I say it like that, but you understand me, I’m sure.

“Mr. Pierce, you aren’t the pony Canker was.”

Pierce could barely speak.  Choking, he managed to mumble, “This is who I am.  I’ve come to terms with that.”

The unicorn considered him a moment.  As though it were not a change of subject, she asked him, “What is your cutie mark?”

Again, the seemingly irrelevant question caught Pierce off-guard.  Stumbling mentally, he replied, “It’s a pin.  An open safety pin.”

“Mr. Pierce, what do you suppose your cutie mark represents?”  Seeing his confusion, she continued, “A pony’s cutie mark shows their special talent, after all.  What’s your special talent?”

“Popping balloons.”  The brown unicorn smiled at that, causing Pierce to flush.  “It’s a long story, okay?”

“Do you know, when I first got my cutie mark, I thought it was a sign I was meant to be a judge?  I went to school for many years pursuing that career.  In time, I graduated and took a seat on the Hoofington district bench.

Do you know what I discovered, Mr. Pierce?  I was a terrible judge.”

Despite the irrelevancy of the conversation, despite to cool air still blowing in through the open door, Pierce found himself compelled by her story.  “How could you be?  I thought you said you could tell if a pony was lying.  Seems to me you’d always know who was right and who was wrong.”

“Oh, I handled all my cases admirably, if I say so myself.  But I was desperately unhappy.  I hated my work!  My life’s ambition since I was a foal, and I despised my job!

“I’d always thought the scales on my flank meant I was destined to be a judge, but I soon realized I would never be happy if something didn’t change.”

“So, what happened?  What did you do?”

By way of answer, the Administrator merely smiled mysteriously.  “Mr. Pierce, do you know what else safety pins do?  They hold things together.  Think about it.”

And with that, she stepped out the door, closing it behind her.  Suddenly galvanized into action, Pierce ran outside after her.  He was not surprised, however, to find no trace of Administrator Gauge.

Pinkie Pie lay in the strange bed and stared at the ceiling.  She supposed she ought to be grateful; if it wasn’t for the Cake’s generosity, she wouldn’t even have a bed to sleep in tonight.  She tried to count her blessings, but the list seemed to come up awfully short.

And of course, there was Gummy.

Pinkie tried to think of something to do to cheer her up.  Something that would at least divert her attention for a while.  But the more she thought about it, the more she realized; there was nothing she really wanted to do.  So she lay still and stared at the ceiling.

The sharp rapping of a hoof on her door shocked her out of her malaise; nopony could reach the second floor without climbing the stairs by this room.  Surely she’d have heard anypony coming?  She strained her ears, but the knocking did not repeat itself.  She heard no other sounds.

Alert now, she crept to the door and pricked up her ears.  Listening closely, she could just barely discern the faintest sounds of movement coming from the other side.

Cautiously, Pinkie opened her door a tiny crack and looked out into the hall.  Then, she threw the door open with a scream, scooping up the squirming miniature alligator that lay before her, muzzle, bindings, and all.

“GUMMY!  Oh Gummy thank Celestia you’re safe, I was so worried I was nearly sick (don’t you EVER frighten me like that again!) but now that you’re here and I’m here and your gag is here (hey, where’d you get the gag?  Let’s get that off!) and, well, that’s it but you and me is PLENTY!  Now we can...”

As she continued crying and cooing over her beloved pet, Mr. and Mrs. Cake came running up the stairs.  At the landing, they both stopped in confusion.

Pinkie twirled towards them, holding her alligator up for them to admire.  “LOOK!  It’s GUMMY!”

Mrs. Cake smiled and said, “Oh dear, it’s a miracle!  I’m so glad he’s alright.”

Mr. Cake, however, wore a puzzled frown.  “Yes, that’s wonderful...but how’d he get in here?  And did he bring that with him?”

He pointed a hoof at the other object in the hall: a massive oak chest.  Pinkie, who had somehow managed not to notice it in her elation over her reunion with Gummy, hopped over to it at once.  “Ooh, do you think it’s a treasure chest?  It looks like a treasure chest!  This would be a great prop for a pirate party!”

Mr. Cake scooped up an envelope that lay next to the chest.  On it was written “For Pinkie Pie.”  Shrugging, he handed it to Pinkie, who immediately tore the letter open.

Inside were a key and a note.  The latter read:

Pinkie flipped the note around, but could find no signature.  

“Well, what’s inside?” asked Mrs. Cake.

Pinkie grinned wickedly.  “Well now, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

With the Cakes crowding around her back, Pinkie unlocked the chest with her key.  With a dramatic flourish, she threw open the lid.

The three of them (and Gummy, but his interest and comprehension were both minimal) stared into the chest, eyes slowly widening.  It was Mr. Cake who was first to react, patting Pinkie on the back with one hoof and saying, “So, I guess dinner’s on you tomorrow?”

That broke the watershed.  Soon, the three ponies were dancing and hugging and screaming, wondering at their good fortune.  

Even after they calmed down, however, none of them had any idea who the mysterious benefactor could be.  None of them had any clue who in Ponyville could have left her the massive chest, filled to the brim with gold bits.