//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: The Conversion Bureau: Why? // by Minalkra //------------------------------// Author's Note: Ok, here's the first MLP fanfic I ever published, though I was working on 'Sins of our Sisters' before this one. I think ... anyway. It's a 'Conversion Bureau' fic and it's a pretty average one at that. It is firmly in the 'humans are all going to Equestria and loving it' land and I'm embarrassed at some of the answers I gave. But live and learn. Please read my final thoughts at the end of it all, if you read it I mean. If it's not your thing, I don't mind. This was my 'I want to play with Pinkie' stage that we all go through, though it was a year (?) into my acceptance of being a fan. Maybe a year. Anyway, on with the fic. "Afternoon, everyone. I'm Trixiebelle, and I'll be talking to you all for the next 20 minutes. Now, I'm almost positive all of you are here because you want to become a pony. This is a fact. You don't come here because you don't want to be a pony, unless someone forced you at gunpoint, but that's a different story." The same speech, he realized. Other than the faces, everything was exactly the same as every other time he had come to the Conversion Center. He sighed. By now, he had memorized Twilight Sparkle's speech to memory. He had hoped moving to a different Center would give him a greater insight but the opening speech was exactly the same as the one in Newark. Either that or this Trixiebelle was particularly uninspired and was just copying someone else's work, though the way these hors -no, ponies- the way these ponies went on about friendship and the like, that would be hard to imagine. His mind wandering, the lone man found himself nearly dozing off as the blue coated and pink maned pony continued on, reciting the prepackaged speech almost methodically. While she seemed to know what she was doing, he was particularly interested in the ending of the little seminar. Having heard the whole thing at least half a dozen times by now, he almost missed it. "Our plan is to ponify you, the sooner the better. Expect this to happen when you least expect it. You'll get used to our culture, our food, and our lack of thumbs. Trust me, it's easier than it looks. Because humans can't handle the magic radiating from Equestrian borders, becoming a pony is crucial to expanding the peaceful, friendly aura that surrounds Equestria every day of every month of every year. Thank you." It's all the same. He grimaced as the group began to clap, nervously at first but with growing enthusiasm. Right down to the blatant anti-human sentiment of the opening speech. How could anyone applaud this, this atrocity? -------------------- “Kevin James? Kevin James? KEVIN JAM-OH! There you are.” The Earth pony weaved through the packed cafeteria and over to his rather empty table, her hooves clopping hollowly against the cheap linoleum floor, a pair of, well, saddlebags swaying in time with her gait. She seemed a bit perturbed having to walk across such a strange and unnatural thing. Kevin glanced up from his book, a smirk planted carefully on his face. “Generally, it's easier to walk across hard surfaces like laminated concrete with a comfortable pair of shoes.” He lifted one pant leg to show the a cheap, off-brand pair of beaten sneakers. “It can't be good for your hooves.” “It isn't, but it's almost as uncomfortable to us to wear things on our hooves.” She returned his smirk and settled into the bench across from him, climbing on top of the too-wide surface and laying carefully down. One side pony, the other human. Soon, just the pony side will be needed. Kevin shook his head clear of those morbid thoughts. There would always be at least one human on Earth, he reasoned. Or perhaps hoped. The mare across from him tilted her head at the motion. “Bad time?” “Oh, no. Not at all. Just . . . clearing my thoughts. You must be curious why I would want to talk to you after, er, orientation.” The mare nodded, tilting her head back upright. “That and why you've been to orientation almost ten times. In different Centers, at that.” He blinked. Of course they'd have records of those who entered. And those who left the same. His face must have betrayed him as the mare across from him chuckled, bringing out a well-worn folder with her mouth and opening it the same. From his vantage, he could see several dozen pages as well as a few paper-clipped photos, stills from security cameras. “Yes, we keep track of all our entrants. As well as the few, shall we say, cold hooves? Er, hands in your case.” “Feet actually. I should have guessed, of course.” He carefully folded the corner of his book, a worn and well-read edition of 'Gödel, Escher, Bach,' and placed it carefully on the table. “So what happens now?” The mare across from him blinked, confusion filling her face. “I . . . I thought you had some questions about ponification. Did I miss some form of human prank?” A few of the nearby tables glanced in their direction, though most resumed eating right afterwards. It seemed a private conversation. “Huh. Don't you suspect me of being involved in the HLF or some other anti-pony group?” He kept his hands in plain sight. You don't grow up a poor black kid in historic Harlem and not pick up a few habits. When dealing with authorities, it's always best not to make sudden moves and to always keep your hands were they can see them. It makes them less nervous. “We did, at first, but,” she pulled out a few sheets of paper from the stack, carefully maneuvering them with her lips and tongue in a stunning display of maxillofacial dexterity. He could almost, almost mind you, see how the lack of hands didn't truly disadvantage them. With a flick of her head, she sent a sheet spinning towards him, stopped by his hand. A few surveillance photos taken from a height, probably from a pegasi flight. They were common enough now to not have raised his suspicion. They all showed him entering his front door and several of an untouched back door. “Obviously, you live much like every other human does now, mostly alone and living off of the production of the mostly automated and AI-led factories and, what do you call them, hydroponids?” “Hydroponics,” he gently corrected her, placing the sheet of photos down. He did not doubt there were many more like it in that stack of papers. She nodded. “Yes, those things. Ingenious, by the way. Well, regardless, you are no anti-pony. We've seen you interact with our kinds many times, some we've talked to even spoke highly of your ability to empathize with them and their choice.” She shrugged her shoulders, as well as any pony could do anyway. “You're not gathering information to attack us, we don't think. And you certainly don't have much of a grudge against what we're doing. I am curious, though if you don't want to tell me...” He pursed his lips and lowered his head, closing his eyes for a moment. Lost in thought. “I can come back later.” He snapped his head up, a smile replacing his grimace. “I wouldn't mind telling you, just not in such a large gathering. Is there someplace more private you can suggest?” The mare blinked, reaching over and taking back the discarded photo sheet, idly straightening up the folder and placing it gingerly back into her bag. “My office perhaps? Or the gardens. One is more pleasant, the other more private.” “The gardens. I wouldn't want to disturb anybody. Or anypony.” He stood, his thin yet compact 5 feet no inches not as intimidating as most of the other humans in the room, a few who reached well into the 7 foot range. Trixiebelle also stood, though for her it was more carefully done. “Alright.” -------------------- The gardens were quiet, he had to admit. Despite their proximity to what was left of Boston, the night air was almost as silent as a grave. Fitting, perhaps, for what may very well be the dusk of the entire human species. Kevin frowned at his own morbidity. Humanity would not die. There would always be those who chose the hard route, the historical one. The painful one. They walked in silence, the man and the mare. Perhaps she relished this chance, this excuse, to avoid the hustle and bother of running a large Conversion Center on the eastern seaboard of the once mighty United States. Or maybe she just wanted him to take his time, to open as he needed to. More likely, whether it was true or not, she would respond with the latter. He chose to enjoy the night air in silence for a moment. If she did as well, so much the better. They walked among the stately oaks, saved trees from one of the more severe hurricanes that had lashed its way up the coast from the Caribbean, and wandered down to where the Earth ponies had dug a meandering creek. A few times Trixiebelle had to wait for the slower Kevin to catch up. She did not seem to mind how long it was taking him to say his piece. Patience and kindness. That's all he ever felt from them. Eventually he held out his hand, stopping her. She looked up at him, slightly quizzically. “I've been thinking over it for a long time, miss . . .” he furrowed his brow, “actually, I never did get your family name.” He looked down at her, frowning. “We don't have them, really.” She looked away and smiled, a strange thing to see on a snouted face but reassuring nonetheless. “A few of the large, more complex families have them, like the very large Apple Clan out of Ponyville. Some of the more, shall we say, proud pony families take them as well. There are even some who claim they are descended from the Princesses and claim some form of family name. But for the most part, we don't have them.” She looked back at Kevin, her smile still in place. “Never saw the need, really.” He shrugged and looked back towards the mostly darkened skyline of Boston. “Trixiebelle, then. I've been thinking a lot on, well, this world. All of it. And I have no problem at all with ponification.” She waited patiently. Surely there was more to it then that. “I have a problem with your kind being anti-human.” She gasped. He looked at her, his eyes betraying no mirth. “Surely that would be problem enough.” “Mr. James! Kevin. I am not anti-human!” He smiled slightly, he had struck some form of a chord. “Allow me to beg to differ.” Kevin stood a bit straighter as he quoted directly her exact words from earlier this evening. “'I may not fully understand your reasoning behind your choice to become a pony, considering I was born one myself, but I can understand what we have been facing in the past few years. Humans such as yourselves have brought your world to shambles, all because of the selfish greed of big business, and the horrible health habits of the majority of the population.' Is that not in your opening speech?” Trixiebelle blinked. He had said it word for word, he knew that much. He continued his quote. “'Our plan is to ponify you, the sooner the better. Expect this to happen when you least expect it. You'll get used to our culture, our food, and our lack of thumbs. Trust me, it's easier than it looks.'” He winked at his now thoroughly confused mare companion. “'Because humans can't handle the magic radiating from Equestrian borders, becoming a pony is crucial to expanding the peaceful, friendly aura that surrounds Equestria every day of every month of every year.'” Kevin looked squarely at his now muted mare companion. “Am I wrong?” “No, Kevin. You said it better than I do some days. But I fail to see-” He cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. “It's not obvious, Trixiebelle. It's a subtle thing. The assumption that your ways are inherently better then ours. That we have been greedy and irresponsible with this planet and nothing more. That we are victims of a problem of our own making. I came here,” he spun around slightly, to show the hill top they were now perched on, “for a purpose. Trixiebelle, do you know the history behind those oaks?” She followed his pointing finger to the grove they had just passed through. Wonderful trees, oaks. Her brow furrowed, much like his had. “No. No I do not.” “I do. Three years ago, a mere year before the . . . well, the Contact, there was a terrible storm. All of those trees were horribly damaged, limbs torn free and fresh leaves ripped from branch. I know because I helped to cut the broken limbs, I helped to tend them with tar and hard work. Do you know why that storm came?” He had approached her, placed his hand on her neck. He hoped it was like placing a hand on a person's shoulder. “No.” She turned back to him, again her face a mask of confusion. “Neither do I. In that storm, almost a hundred people were killed.” He smiled gently at her gasp but continued. “Many by fallen trees but a few by electrical shock or simple heart failure. The streets were too hazardous for most to be rescued by our ambulance services. We tried, oh yes we tried. But it was not a good few nights.” “Why did your weather service allow it to happen?” He could feel the confusion and pain in her voice. Such a storm must never happen in Equestria. He, of course, already knew this. “Our weather services cannot change the weather. They can observe, they can try to predict. They can warn. But we don't have magic. Remember, ' humans can't handle the magic radiating from Equestrian borders,' you said so yourself. And I believe you. But there, you are the masters of all you see save a few, scattered remains of wild Equestria. Here, we are at the mercy of, well. Everything.” “But your technology...” She motioned with her hoof, weakly. “It enables us to be safe, mostly. But such things as hurricanes, as tornadoes, things that your people control through magic, we have no defense against save hope. And, yes, our technology perhaps did add to the power of the storms lately. Global Warming and all that. But we only really came to grips with the fact such a problem exists recently. We had no way of knowing, no sky-mother,” Trixiebelle winced at the near insult to Princess Celestia, “to tell us we were wrong. No all-knowing eye to keep us safe. We had to be that eye. And we, all of us mortal things, are so short sighted.” Kevin let his hand fall. “I'm sorry to dump all of this on you at once. What your people did with magic, we had to force happen with whatever we had available. Steel and coal, gasoline and fire. We have many tools and it is because we have no magic they are there. Trixiebelle.” He raised her head up, looking into her blue eyes with his deep, almost black browns. “You judge us, silently. In your speech, I've heard nearly a dozen times. The way you look at us with pity and, yes, sometimes fear. You judge us. But you have no real right to do so.” “We don't judge you. We just want to help.” Even to her ears, it almost sounded pitiful. A rational, an excuse. But really, they only wanted to help a people who were hurting. “Then why not earlier? Why not World War II? Or the Cold War, if you were afraid of being drawn into combat? Or the 'War Against Terror' from a few years ago. Or any of the hundreds of conflicts that have torn this world apart? Why wait till now? Why wait?” Kevin grew silent, as silent as the city behind him had become, as silent as the pony who, thinking to console a fearful human, now was having to defend her whole reason for being here. Of all the debates, the riots, the protests, this one human, with his quiet questions, had more fully and truly drawn out the hard questions that she, no, that no pony had ever been asked. Wistfully, she wondered why herself. Why her? Why this human? And why now? What was different? The technological singularity? Humanity was, from her new point of view, finally able to heal this planet. They had changed from gasoline to batteries, from coal power to solar. They could clean it all up, if they tried, and many were. There was a form of peace, not full but greater than any their poor race . . . no, not poor. A peace greater than any their race had seen for at least a thousand years. Why now? The quote, in her own voice, entered her head of it's own volition. She had said it, time and again, but she had never really listened to it. She had never really heard it. 'Ponykind faces overpopulation, in ways that the tiny isle of Equestria simply can't keep together for long. That's why we moved into your towns and cities. I'm sure you all know about this already, but what you haven't heard is why we're doing this. Why you are here today, sitting in this cramped room with sweaty, tired people just waiting for me to stop talking.' It wasn't because of the pollution, the humans were getting that under control. It wasn't because of the sicknesses, they were moving beyond the need for money to drive their world. The wars were ending, the unemployment was becoming a needless statistic. When few worked, what was the need of employment? When AIs controlled production, harvesting of food, and even medicine, who needed to work except those who wanted to work? Not even because it was nice. It would have been nice in 1930, in 1840, in 1620. In 1000 AD, it would have been nice. Why? Why? Why now? She knew. She just never realized, never admitted to herself the real reason. They were here now because it suited Equestria. Because Equestria needed humanity to become like them. To be a part of the herd. So that Equestria could expand. So that Equestria wouldn't have to face the same decisions that humanity did. So that Equestria didn't have to change. She pulled away, her mind a confused mishmash of emotions. She wanted to say they were more careful with how they did things, but had they not had the Princesses . . . She wanted to tell him about how beautiful the countryside of Equestria was at night. But here, there was beauty as well and wilder than that of her home. She wanted to yell, to scream that what they were doing was right. It was, but not for the reasons they did it for. “There has to be another reason.” She sounded desperate, even to her ears. “I'm sure Twilight Sparkle was just not thinking when she wrote it.” Kevin huffed, drawing a glare from Trixiebelle. He looked away. “Before you ponies came, there was a great problem in this country. No. No, in this world. Hatred, fear, jealousy. But most of all, it was the silent judging. All creatures do it, it's part of our make up.” He waved, almost absently, out into the night. “Part of our natural sight, how we look at the world and determine if it is what we wish it to be. But here, in this country, one of the worse was what we called 'racism.'” Trixiebelle nodded. “Hatred of another human based on skin color.” Kevin nodded in turn. “Yes. Pretty silly to you ponies, everyone being a separate color in and of themselves almost. But yes. And here, in the land of the 'free and equal,' there used to be so much of it. Only in the last, what, forty fifty years had it gotten under control? Even then, it wasn't stamped out. Not until you ponies came and gave those who wished to hate a new, more obvious target.” He sighed, rubbing his nearly bald head. “For that, I am sorry.” “They will learn. Or they will not. One can't force someone else to change. Even for the better.” Kevin smiled. “'Our plan is to ponify you, the sooner the better. Expect this to happen when you least expect it. You'll get used to our culture, our food, and our lack of thumbs. Trust me, it's easier than it looks.'” He looked away from Trixiebelle's surprised face and towards the Boston skyline one last time before turning back to his companion's shocked face. “Can you?” Without looking behind him, he started to walk back toward the Conversion Center. “See you tomorrow, Trixiebelle.”