Just after Sixteen finished the interview, another changeling came down the stairs, surprising the interviewer. He noticed this changeling was quite different from the changeling he just interviewed. Curiosity rose and he started to go over when the changeling looked at him and gave him a raised eyebrow.
“Sixie, who is this guy? Another one for a night of fun or are you bored out of your mind again?” he asked.
“Silly Buzz,” she replied. “This isn’t somepony I invited out of boredom. He’s a reporter and interviewed me about ongoing misinformation around our species. As one of the first changelings legally living here, he thought it would be nice to gain a bit of information about us."
"Okay. Just don't go overboard, you hear? I'm going out a bit." Buzz said.
“Hey, since you are here, would you answer some questions from me as well?” the interviewer, Type Cast, asked, intercepting the male changeling on his way. “Your friend here was kind enough to do so.”
Buzzing stopped to think over this offer, shrugged, and moved over to the interviewer.
“Sure, why not? It wasn’t that important to go out, just meeting with some friends. So shoot, reporter guy.” He agreed and sat down in front of Sixteen and the reporter.
“First things first, what is your exact name and how did you come to live here?” Type Cast started.
“My name is Buzzing Hide, and my number is 26-1-98-7. Seventh hive, ninety-eight cluster, first squadron, twenty-sixth member. I got my name thanks to the constant wing buzzing I did back when I was a youngling. As to how it came for me to live here, that is quite simple: my hive queen ordered me to,” Buzzing added with a frown.
“Ordered? I know that most changelings listen to the queen, but why did she order you to live here?”
Buzzing sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid that is confidential, but I guess I can tell you what my job is inside my hive.”
Type Cast seemed surprised. “You have… jobs?”
“Sure, it’s almost the same as pony society, only with changelings and slightly different job titles. We have worker drones that are responsible for maintaining the hive, and the sub-jobs vary from hive to hive. Some do structure maintenance, others are cleanlings, and others are what you would call vendors, only for changeling needs. Then there are the guards, who – surprise, surprise – guard fixed points throughout the hive. We also have guards akin to Queen Celestia's honor guard or personal guard. They are the highest ranked guardlings and most younglings aim to join their ranks. And we have information gatherers – that is my profession, by the way – who are sent throughout the world to collect, analyze and send back information to the hive.”
“That almost sounds like you are here to spy on us, right?” the interviewer joked. “Paranoia aside, you look quite different from Sixteen here, how come?”
“Ah, quite the interesting question. I don’t know the exact reasons, these are known only to the hive queens, but my guess is it depends on where the hive the changeling comes from is located. A changeling from a desert hive needs different protection than a changeling from, let's say, a more rural area. So, over time, our bodies got accustomed to the specific area we live in. I think that also influenced our general look, like mane or chitin color.”
Type took some time to scribble down his notes before he asked his next question. “How does it feel to live with ponies instead of changelings?”
“As strange as it sounds, not that different. The only true difference I can tell is what I see when I walk around the city. Instead of the black and green chitin of my hive I see a multitude of colors, so many colors that the first time I came here I thought I was going blind from it! As for the behavior, ponies are very different from changelings. While most ponies stop to talk to other ponies on their way to work or other activities, changelings focus more on getting the work done before we stop to chat with our brethren. Doing so we tend to get our work done about 20% faster than ponies, griffons or even minotaurs.”
Type took a look around before he returned his gaze to the changeling he was interviewing. “What about cultural interests? Do changelings have different tastes in art, prose, music et cetera?”
This time it was Buzzing looking around, a thoughtful expression on his face. Type noticed the scar over his right eye, but didn’t dare to ask about that yet. A few moments later the changeling looked back to him.
“I can’t say, honestly. While I do enjoy a few bits of music here and there, the same does not apply to the others. So in a way you can say, yes, changelings have different tastes. But how different is something I can’t tell. In the hive we have a few artists who are responsible for decorating and painting the walls, but that’s about the most I can think of. The information gatherers all have different opinions and tastes, but it’s impossible to say about the general population.”
Type shifted a bit uneasy, but then asked his question anyway. “That scar on your face, how did you get that? It looks a bit nasty.”
To his surprise, instead of being offended, the changeling started laughing. Sixteen also looked a bit dumbfounded, but remained motionless. Buzz calmed down and, still chuckling, answered the question.
“Funny thing you ask. See, before we gatherers are sent out, we have to prove ourselves capable of defending, high tolerance to pain and torture and other stuff. I passed my exams with flying colors. A few months after my first assignment, I returned home. There was this changeling I always had arguments with about the right approach on missions. When we met and argued yet again, I challenged him to a fight in our arena. Yes, we have an arena to settle things that can’t be solved with words. He agreed and the next day we stood on opposite sides on the grounds. The official was our queen, and then the fight started. Neither of us could get the upper hoof. Out of dumb luck he got lucky and his horn managed to cut through my hide. It hurt like hell, but I kept fighting him. Eventually I tried the technique I learned during my travel and managed to subdue him. He was less than happy, but accepted his defeat. He vanished after that the next day and we have yet to hear from him.”
Both Type and Sixteen were shocked to hear that a changeling left his hive without telling where he went. Type coughed politely and spoke the last thing on his list.
“Do you know Sixteen’s personal name, Mr. Hide? If yes, how did you learn of it, when the two of you are from different hives?”
Hearing that, Sixteen became visibly angry. How could he ask someling else about that if she refused to answer that?
Buzz, feeling an incoming reporter mincemeat attack, held out a hoof in front of his fellow changeling to stop her, shaking his head.
“I know it, yes. She told it to me on our first encounter. However, unless she decides to make it known, I will honor tradition and only say the name she chose to be called. Please understand that changelings value their personal names and traditions very much. And it would be wise from you to understand and accept that. That is, you don't want me to go and dig up a bit of dirt on you. Do you?”
“One last thing: I see you two are close and all, but what is the relation between you two; acquaintances, lovers, or something completely different?” Type asked, slightly trembling.
“Well… I think ‘acquaintances’ is pretty much the closest you said. From time to time I need some company, and St—I mean Sixteen is the only changeling I know of who lives together with a pony – a scientist, no less. So when I’m bored and have nothing to do, I come over and we talk about Vic and Jennie’s relationship, his latest projects or just some ‘other’ fun we can think of.”
“We totally bang,” Sixteen interrupted in a total deadpan. “That’s what he means by ‘other fun’.”
“She is a nice changeling and it's great to know her. As for Wil…” Buzz turned to Sixteen with a curious face. “Where is he anyway?”
“My brother said he was a bit to... soft. So he drafted him,” Sixteen replied. “I’m sure he'll be back someday.” Hopefully more handsome and fully functional, teeheehee.
“Well,” the interviewer announced as he packed his stuff again, “I suppose that should be more than enough material for the article. Perhaps even two. Thanks again, both of you.”
As Type Cast finally left, Sixteen turned to her friend. “So, you still want to go out with your friends, or can I be the guy?”