“This is a problem,” said a tan-coloured unicorn. “We can’t survive like this much longer. It’s been great with all of you, but we can’t keep doing this, feeding off each other. We need something new. Something fresh.”
“Speak for yourself, Thought,” rumbled a robotic pig from the corner, using the extra bass speakers built into his frame to give him a more intimidating voice. “My Artificial Nutrition Generator/Shipping Terminal can keep me running for years. Or at least it would. If I were a robot. Which I am clearly not.”
“I have to agree with Thought Bubble,” put in a green Earth pony, “Not all of us can survive off ANGST, Piggy. And it’s hardly the most healthy solution. We need it fresh and warm and cuddly, not covered in sadness and pain.”
Professor Piggy harrumphed, and turned to face the wall. Then, realising that he still needed to be part of the conversation, he harrumphed again and turned back to face the group.
“Are you sure we have to do this, Thought?” asked Daydream, the yellow unicorn levitating a few sheafs of paper, “I mean, I’ve got a few new scenarios that we haven’t tried yet...”
“No,” said Thought Bubble, “we have to leave. We don’t have to split up, but we can’t stay here and keep to the same routine. Besides, the royal guard has been getting suspicious lately. What with the Changelings and everything, they don’t take kindly to anypony who does what we do.”
Silence pervaded the room for a while, as the occupants tried to come up with a solution to their problem.
“You know...” said Die-a Bolical, the green earth pony, “I think that I may have something. In between making plant cyborgs and teaching them to tap dance, Fizzle Pop may have accidentally discovered a portal into a different dimension. Once we’re through, it should be no problem setting up shop again, and getting our fill, but getting there may be a problem.”
“Set it up, DB,” said Thought Bubble, “At this point, I’m willing to risk anything to get my hooves on some quality feels.”
-----
“Tell DB I hate him,” muttered Thought, as he face pressed into Hasty Hooves’ side. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and she’d certainly been this close to the flighty pegasus before, but being shoved in a crate and sent through the mail system was not her idea of a good time.
“Stop complaining, I have Norse sitting on me,” said Purple Prose, the youngest of the group. “And I did not particularly want to observe his flank this closely today.” There were two thumps on the box, and then Die-a Bolical’s voice floated through the cracks in the crate.
“No talking! If this is going to work, the Professor needs to believe that there’s nothing in here! She only sends inanimate objects through.” The seven in the box went quiet, while time passed, and snippets of conversation floated through the crate. Then, there was a strange thrumming sound, twin crys of ‘See you later, Royal Guard!’ and ‘You’ll never stop the cyborg plant takeover!’, and the strange sensation of being drunk.
---
Moments later, the crate lid was popped, and the seven tumbled out to find DB standing in front of an odd-looking device.
“My friends, my comrades, my fellow emotion feeders, I give to you...the internet. With this, we can make the feels come to us.”