//------------------------------// // Original Changes // Story: Original Complication // by Seeking Dusk //------------------------------// I woke up because it was getting too bright with that flash of light. Well, that and the sudden awareness that something had forcibly knocked me off the bed. Well, the other way around. Concurrently, actually. One moment I was having a pleasant dream about… something, when a bright flash and a solid blow startled me from dreamland and most of the way into reality. I could feel myself rolling off the bed, and without thinking further on it I tossed aside my blankets and did my best to turn the fall into a tumble. There were two solid thumps as something else got knocked off the bed by my frantic and largely ineffective flailing, but I managed to hit the carpeted floor in a mostly deliberate fashion; on a leg, a knee and a hand, the other thrashing wildly in the air in a likely ineffective and equally likely quite comical fashion in a futile display of self defense. “Wazzahuhmuma- I’m awake!” I exclaimed at the person who knocked me out of bed. My world span for a moment, a side effect of my hasty rise, and I staggered slightly, a bit woozy and still on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it, a bad idea since that momentarily caused my head and ears to pound, and blinked owlishly as I try to get my bleary vision to clear. Just my room; nothing to see, nothing to remark about, and most definitely nothing out of the ordinary. I had expected Brandon, my roommate, to be around, grinning at his lame prank. Damn. I woke up for nothing. And I was having such a good dream. Stupid flash of light chased the memories of it away at that. Lips smacking and digging the crust out of my eyes, I contemplated the value of trying to get back to sleep. My room didn’t have a clock, but it was far from short of timepieces. The closest one was the laptop, resting on the bedside table, and it woke to its lock screen a few seconds after I flipped it open. Great; ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. That was six minutes more sleep if I went back now. “I wish,” I mumbled to no one in particular, smothering a yawn and stumbling my way to the bathroom. My actions were mechanical and born of long habit, as it wasn’t until the spray of cold water hit me that I fully woke up, spluttering and fumbling to hit the valve that had been left on shower rather than spout. Not the greatest way to start the morning. I spend a bit more time than normal under the water, set to a much warmer temperature, to chase the chills the unwanted cold shower caused before toweling off and getting ready to face the day like a man. Of course, since it was my day off… “Frig it’s my day off, I could have stayed in bed,” I cursed at myself, scowling at my reflection. Hold up; something was wrong with that image. It took me a moment to realize what it was. Dark skin tone, scar on my nose bridge from that time when I was four too adventurous around a fence and it’s spiked top, low cut hair. All to be expected. Expect for the eyes. My eyes. I leaned closer to the mirror, pulling a lower lid down as I stared at it, baffled as I looked into the gold pupils that sat where dark brown ones should have. Vivid, should-be-impossible-as-a-natural-pigment, gold, looking somewhat larger than they had right to be. The wheels in my head decided they needed a few seconds to churn as it took in that unexpected change and my jaw slacked when realization finally cleared processing. I swore and recoiled as they expanded to unnatural proportions in response to my shock, almost swallowing the whites in their entirety. The mat under my feet slipped, sending me flailing comically for the second time in less than half an hour. My efforts at regaining balance were far from successful and I landed in the tub behind me, pulling down the curtain with a clatter of strained hooks and ripping sound as the plastic lining gave, bashing my head on the tiled wall. I lay there dazed for a while, back of my head pounding, cold damp acrylic under me. I lay there naked for a while, trying to make sense of everything, my thoughts racing a thousand kilometers a minute. What the hell? Like what the hell? Did I get some sort of weird sickness? Was this some wacked out prank Brandon was pulling? No, no… Brandon left for work already; he wouldn’t pull this sort of thing without sticking around to see the response. Then disease? What kind? Was it fatal? I already needed glasses, was I going to go blind now? Actually, where were my glasses? Actually, how was I seeing so clearly without them? I whacked my head against the tile again, this time deliberately. Another lance of pain surged from the spot and I knew for a fact I was going to be getting a lump, but it did help disrupt the rampant speculation. The shower spout was dripping, and I clung to the rhythmic pattern and used it to calm down. In time, I was thinking clearly again. “The hell is going on?” I grumbled. The curtain rod, along with the wash rag and towel that I had tossed over it, had joined my fall, and proved a minor complication as I got to my feet again. The damp rag I employed to soothe the ache a bit as I looked at my eyes again. “Seriously… what the heck?” I turned to google for answers as I got dressed, looking for anything on spontaneous eye colour changes. I couldn’t find anything useful, only things that reinforced the fact that spontaneous eye colour changes were impossible. The fact that my vision was better than it should be without my spectacles on didn’t help, nor that I also knew the iris wasn’t supposed to be that mobile. It was almost cartoon like, like what you saw in Looney Toones and My Little Pony. “Stuff needs to start making sense now. Because it’s too early to be dealing with this sort of thing…” The idea of having some bizarre disease took back burner for a while as I went to get breakfast. You might think it callous and dismissive, but going hungry and panicking wasn’t not going to help me. Better I get some food while continuing to research and mildly panic. I’m not sure it if was a good or bad thing that my roommate had already headed out to work for the day. I kept breakfast simple, as a concession to my little issue; some toast and hot dogs, munched on them while standing, laptop resting on a box repurposed as a stand on the counter. I rapped my fingers idly as I tried different variations on the search terms, hoping for something more viable then what I’d found so far. “There’s got to be something somewhere useful…” “Hey! Trevor!” a familiar voice yelled in time with a pounding on my door. “Trevor, you home?” “Gimmie a minute!” I called out, setting breakfast aside. I shuffled to the door, kicking a few stray shoes out of the hallway and into their corner before opening the door for my visitor. “What I can do for you this early in the morning, Roy?” I asked sweetly. Roy was pretty much my best friend. Couple years my senior, though he did journalism to my geography. Both of us found that our fields were rather sparse in terms of openings, and we met sharing mutual woes one night in a game shop. Finding out we shared more than a handful of fandoms was icing on the cake. Also; I’m aware that nine and ten o’clock is far from the wee hours, but we both worked later shifts in the day, and he tended to be out until around eleven or twelve. I raised an eyebrow at the headgear he was wearing. “A toque? Not really the time for it.” “Um… can I come in?” Roy asked nervously. Nervously and hesitantly, as if he were still internally debating his current actions. In fact, he was in sleepwear. Yes, he lived two houses down, but still, sweat bottoms and flannel shirt? I raised the other eyebrow at his behaviour, but shrugged and stepped aside, waving my hand in the manner of a butler. My response was dispassionate in comparison to the somewhat grandiose motions. “Yeah, sure; whatever.” “Thanks Trev,” he said, slipping past me. “I’m not feeding you though,” I added, closing the door behind him. “If you forgot to get groceries again; you’re on your own. I’ve got my own issues to deal with today.” “You think you have issues?” Roy snorted. He pulled off his toque and pointed to his head. Ears. Resting near the top of his skull was a pair of ears. Not just any ears, either. These were animal-like, dark grey and tuffed, looking like the little bit beasty art you would find on the net, kemonomimi. Yellow, they were splayed back in agitation, or perhaps fear? My animal behaviour course was a few years back, and it didn’t go into details like that anyway. Those creaky wheels upstairs called for some processing time again and I slowly brought a hand up to my jaw and chewed on my index knuckle thoughtfully until my brain decided to free up enough resources for me to speak. “Are… those… animal ears?” “Yes!” Roy said, getting that confused and nervous look again. He exhaled, teeth chattering slightly. “Look, am I going crazy or do they look like…” “Pony ears?” I ventured. “Bat pony in particular?” “Oh god, I was right,” Roy said. He started pacing. “I got up early because I had to call and make an appointment for next week and I was checking The Blizzard Launcher when I saw this bright flash like lightning…” He was still talking, but I zoned out. To be honest, I wanted to pace with him, but the brain co-opted more resources to deal with this new information and devise a new hypothesis. Okay… pony ears on Roy. Cartoon eyes on myself. Let’s discard the disease issue for the moment. There had to be a common…. Cartoon + pony = MLP. We were both Bronies; the only two in our immediate circle of relations. Roy had ears that matched the ones the huMane6 had in Equestria Girls. I had the overly expressive and oddly coloured eyes. “Trevor!” Roy’s yell snapped me back to reality. “Huh, what?” I asked. He was glaring at me. “Sorry, wasn’t listening.” “I could tell,” he said, sighing with exasperation and resignation. “I was asking if you had any idea what was going on. You are the one who did biology. You shou…” his voice trailed off as he noticed something. I bet I knew what. “What happened to your eyes?” “Same thing that happened to your ears, I wager,” I commented somewhat blandly. Another bet I was pretty sure I would win. I headed back into the kitchen, not caring about the pan in the sink. Roy didn’t hesitate to follow. “Shouldn’t you be a little more concerned about all this?” Roy asked as I started up a new search on google. The real question was how to look this up. I tried real life ponification. “I’m very concerned, but since I already hit my head twice over this, I’m not freaking out anymore. Mostly,” I amended after a moment’s thought. “I can believe three impossible things before breakfast.” “Wasn’t that the red queen?” Roy said, screwing up his expression a little, his new ears twitching in an adorable manner. Oh lovely… I just thought my best friend was adorable. Not privy to my thoughts, Roy continued, pointing at my plate. “And you already ate.” “Even more reasons I can believe impossible things,” I pointed out with a grin. The first search didn’t bring up anything much more than a bunch of fanfics. I tapped on one of the keys impatiently, thinking of a new term to use, waving at the phone with my free hand. “Just watch, that phone will ring bearing more impossible news in three… two… one…” We both looked expectably at the phone, but nothing happened. I blinked at it, disappointed. “Darn.” “You’re full of it, sometimes,” Roy laughed. He looked over my shoulder and made a suggestion. “Try ‘I got pony ears’.” I did, but still nothing useful. I was really hoping this wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe people just hadn’t posted anything. Maybe they were like me and were just watching for posts and not making any. I hit Hasbro’s youtube channel and posted a comment there asking if anyone got pony ears. “Not mentioning the eyes?” Roy asked, reading over my shoulder. “Putting you under the bus,” I replied with a grin. “Cheaper than paying for an actual ticket.” “Thanks for that, Trevor,” he deadpanned. Ah, my pupil in sarcasm was growing well! The phone rang just after I posted the comment. Ah; if only it had rang thirty seconds ago. I snatched it up quickly. “Hi! You’ve reached the residence of Trevor Shaw and Brandon Richards.” “Trevor! Man I’m glad I got you. I called Roy but his phone just ran off the hook.” I recognized the voice; Jason Doyle, the third, technically first, Brony in our group of friends. I should probably explain things a bit. Roy and I met at one of the local game shops a few years before. At the time, general interests, dungeons and dragons, pokemon, scifi, and so on sparked our friendship. Eventually, we got into online role playing. No, not the kinky stuff, but text based D20 games. In time, we had a group of friends over the net going. Jason was already a video gaming buddy of Roy, and got drawn into the group as well. From there, we set up something of a fandom swap. I got Roy into Stargate, Roy got Jason, myself and two others into Doctor Who, and Jason got Roy and I into My Little Pony. Admittedly, it took him some effort to get us past the whole ‘Cartoon Ponies’ thing. We never judged him on it, just never had much interest. Roy caved first and fell in love with Luna. I sampled it a few weeks later and burned through all the seasons in three days. The rest was history. Anyway, while Roy and I lived in the same town, and within walking distance of each other, Jason was across the border in Washington DC. Our fourth brony ally, Sam, lived in Milwaukee, even further than Jason. He was the only one we never got to visit in person. But enough with the retrospect. “Jace…” I said slowly, trying to gauge his tone. “Don’t tell me… white flash, punch, weird change?” “It happened to you too?” Jason asked, sounding somewhat morose. “Wait, it happened to him too?” Roy asked, his eyes widening. “What did he get?” “Shush,” I said, waving a hand at him. “Me and Roy both. And… crap… a ton of people.” I hit refresh on the youtube page, and already there were over a dozen comments, most affirming. “Roy got pony ears. I got pony eyes. What about you?” “Well…” Jason started. “What? What did he say?” Roy questioned, looking like he wanted to rip the phone away from me. “He hasn’t said it yet!” I said, waving him off with sharp dismissive motions. “And I can’t find out if you keep bugging me!” “Then put it on speaker!” Roy insisted. I paused before taking a moment to facepalm at my lapse in judgment before following his advice. Of all the simple things to overlook… “Sorry about, Jace,” I muttered. “You were saying?” “Hi, Jason!” Roy called. “Mah? Um, hey Roy,” Jason said, thrown off subject. He sounded slightly scratchy over the speaker. “Greetings later,” I said with more calm than I was feeling. “Response now. Ears. Eyes. And?” “Holes,” Jason responded. “… Holes?” I echoed, not quite sure I heard him right. “Holes,” Jason confirmed slowly. “Holes!?” Roy demanded. “Yes, holes!” Jason snapped. “Three holes through my left hand and one through my right leg! They aren’t very big yet, I can’t fit my finger in them, but they go all the way through.” “Huh…” was all I could muster in response as Jason’s heavy breathing was translated across the line. And I thought my cartoon eyes were bad. “Do they… hurt?” “No. They are just really freaky,” Jason replied, a slight quaver to his tone. “Changeling,” Roy said with some certainty. “That's gotta be it.” “And here I was thinking it was Swiss cheese,” I muttered. Roy was right though; in light of everything, the My Little Pony factor was pretty much verified. What other thing had holes through their limbs? “You able to Skype?” Jason asked, ignoring my comment. The signature ring started up before I had a chance to respond. “What would you have done if I was no?” I asked, rolling my eyes and accepting the call. The video window popped up and loaded from a few seconds before Jason appeared. His brown hair was clearly suffering from a case of bed head and he looks over all frazzled and disheveled. As a counter point to his appearance, his room behind him was pretty neat and tidy. “Hello, Jason,” Roy called. “Then it would have just run,” Jason said, hanging up the landline. He peered curiously at the screen. “Morning, Roy.” “Ears,” I motioned for Roy to come closer so I could point to his head. I leaned slower to my laptop’s camera and opened my eyes wide so he could get a look at them, shuddering slightly when I realized they really were bigger than they should be. “And eyes.” Jason looked on with silent awe and a trace bit of fear. I snapped my fingers to break his trance. “Holes?” “Um, yeah,” he said, lifting his hand for Roy and I to see. The smallest one was just between the bones of his middle and ring fingers, somewhat hard to notice if you weren’t looking for it. The largest one was in the middle of his lower arm, about the width of sharpie, the last one just below his wrist and close to the inside edge. You could actually catch glimpses through the largest one. “Okay… that is decidedly freaky,” I commented, making a slight face. “And I thought the eyes were bad.” “Wow… I… wow…” Roy murmured. “Are those batpony ears?” Jason asked, pointing to Roy’s ears, at least from the perspective of his screen, now that he could see the appendages in question. “We think so,” Roy said. I took the opportunity to move the handset back to its cradle and mused some more. So, three people now. All bronies. I needed to get in touch with Sam and check if anything happened to him. Jason had shattered any hopes of it being local. He lived almost six hundred kilometers away, for goodness sake. Youtube had gotten a lot of affirming responses, so it really was happening all over the place, but I didn’t want to check that any more, since the trolls would likely have taken over the comment train by this point. Give them an inch? This was giving them two and a half miles. Roy and Jason were still tossing ideas back and forth, though I only gave them half an ear’s worth of attention. At least until Jason asked another question. “Didn’t you make a batpony OC for Trevor’s most recent ponyfinder game?” “Star Sword? Yeah, what about him?” Roy asked. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I groaned slapping me hand against my forehead. “It can’t be that…” “Changeling holes say yes,” Jason said. “I made a Changeling for Hallow Night and Roy made a batpony.” Roy had been pestering me about the ponyfinder source books recently, so I caved and agreed to run a short game based on it. It took some fiddling, but I made stats for the non-standard races and shifted things to be a bit more show accurate, but we got a party of ponies made and prepped for the game that was supposed to start that Thursday. Star Shadow the batpony was Roy’s character. Jason made Chitter; a changeling that left the hive and I made a Silver Stroke; lunar touched unicorn. “You’re telling me we’re becoming our characters? That makes no sense at all,” I grumbled. “It’s better than the idea you had,” Roy pointed out, jabbing a finger at me. I noticed with a trace of misplaced fascination that his new ears were flicking and moving to his emotions. “I didn’t have an idea,” I countered, pushing aside that observation for now. Jason was staying out of it. “Exactly,” Roy said with a smug look. He stole that spiel for me. “You think you’re ready to challenge your master of snark and sarcasm?” “There comes a time when the student must surpass the master,” Roy said, narrowing his eyes and going into cliché quotes. “Ah, little one, true as that may be, that day is still in the distant future,” I gathered my impressive powers of razor wit and cutting tongues, prepared to put the unruly pup in his place. Or would that be foal? That last thought opened my eyes and I laughed weakly. “Ah, this might not be the time and place for this.” “You too finished bickering like an old married couple?” Jason asked. The speakers faintly picked up the sound of him typing away at the keyboard. “Pretty much, I guess,” I shrugged, though I was smirking slightly. “We need to get in touch with Sam. He made a merpony for that game. If the same thing is happening to him, he’s in for some weird times. Really weird.” “Huh… I bet he wouldn’t complain if he got a tail. He was always into mermaids,” Roy commented. “Don’t start again,” Jason called out. “Look, I found something interesting. I’m sending you the link.” He dropped a link in the chatbox for us to follow. It was to one of the MLP forums, a new and somewhat word heavy post. I quickly skimmed the lines and swore softly when I got the jist of it. “Fine, Jason wins this one.” “Um… am I reading this right that two guys caused this? By accident?” Roy was really just looking for external verification. “Sounds unbelievable, doesn’t it?” Jason commented. “I’m wondering what the range on this thing problem is. Some sort of unstable radiation or ripple that’s causing… changes in bronies?” I didn’t want to go as far as saying transformation. Though ‘yet’ might be the key word in that situation. “What qualifies you to be a brony, anyway? I scored Moderate Creative. Jace is hipster…” “Mah?” Jason exclaimed slightly. “Pretty sure Roy was Moderate,” I continued, ignoring Jace. “But none of us have been to conventions or anything like that. Or bought a lot of swag, except for Sam…” “Boop,” Roy interjected, pressing his hand over my nose out of nowhere. “Oi!” I said, jerking back. “Good, you stopped. Other more important things,” Roy said, pointing to the screen. “They said they are going to Chicago.” I tched and reread the post again. “You just found this, Jace?” “It’s on a couple other sites too,” Jason affirmed. He put a few more links in the chat box for us. “I think this guy is really trying to get this out there before things…” “Go horribly and irrevocably wrong for all those affected?” I finished the line for him in a completely deadpan voice. Roy booped me again. “Pretty much my thoughts. But less grimdark and dramatic,” Jason said. “And I’m a moderate. Roy is the hipster.” “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Roy asked. “That you’re the hipster. Congratulations. I’ll get you a trophy later. So, are you going to Chicago, Jace?” I asked him. I had my own thoughts on the matter. Namely; I would be stupid not to. The hard part would be getting the time off work to actually go. And actually getting there. “I… I’m not sure,” Jason admitted. “I’m going,” I said firmly. Yep, saying it out loud made it final. “Probably driving, since it would work out cheaper, most likely. International flights suffer from impressive price hikes. One of these days they will let these things happen in Toronto.” The only problem was that I hated driving for over an hour at a time. “I’m taking Roy with me.” “What?” Roy said, started at being voluntold. “Toronto is an hour and a half from here. Detroit is five hours. Chicago is about twice that,” I said, explaining my logic. “I need another driver.” “Who said I was going?” Roy said, giving me the stink eye. “I know you. You wouldn’t want to pass this up,” I said. “Yeah, I’m with Trev on that one,” Jason commented. “And splitting gas bills is cheaper than paying air fare or bus and train tickets,” I said, making Roy’s plans for him. “What about you Jace? Are we going to meet you part way?” “I… don’t know,” Jason said, swallowing nervously. “You want to be stuck there if they have a cure or something in Chicago?” Roy asked. Jason chewed his lip, then got up and walked out of camera range. “Jason? Jace? Hey!” “Give him time to think,” I told Roy, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Some people don’t just impulsively follow all the suggestions their friends make.” “I guess,” Roy sighed. “Hold up, are you calling me weak willed?” “Moi? Why, I never!” I protested with mock indignation. Roy laughed. It did much to lighten the mood. “So… see if we can reach Sam?” “Yeah,” Roy agreed. “Let me run back to my place and get my laptop. I… might have left my door open actually.” “Sure, go on,” I said, waving at Roy and moving to wash the dishes. “Take your time. Jason’s gonna need a fe-” “I’m in,” Jason said suddenly, causing me to jump a little. “Wha?” I managed. “I’m going too. I’ll check prices for flights, but maybe we could meet up in Detroit?” Jason said, giving us a weak smile. I sighed, but smiled back, one that quickly turned into a grin. “Sure. Detroit it is. I’ve got GPS on my phone and can find directions online anyway.” “What about Sam?” Roy asked. “We’re should still get in touch with him, but he’s in Milwaukee,” Jason said. “He’s north of Chicago and closer than any of us. He might reach there before we do.” “Alright then,” I said, exchanging a look with Roy. “First Detroit, then Chicago!” Of the two, it was the elder that still held a place in the hearts of most ponies. She was the one they called to for strength and wisdom, her calm smile what they looked to for comfort. She was like the sun, nay; she was the sun, radiating warmth and comfort. Yet, like the sun and the clear sky it stood in, its beauty was enduring and almost infallible, the face shown to her subjects the same; warm yet with a cold distance most did not notice existed. After all; one felt the sun’s wrath when it bore down on you, rather than beheld the storms that might rage within and upon its seemingly enduring visage. The younger, in spite of her domain and service to her ponies being in one of the most intimate of settings, their very dreams, or perhaps because of it, still remained across a gulf for many of her subjects. And yet, for all that isolation, she was the more emotive and expressive of the two rulers, for unlike the sun, the moon freely changed and showed a variety of faces, and the night sky was but a canvas that held a constantly shifting mural. She interacted with them the same, sensitive to their moods, her own, despite her reserved personality and bearing, returned and honest. As such, it was the younger whose reaction was more noteworthy. Elegantly shoed hooves pounded through the hallways of the castle as the Princess of the Night galloped to her destination. Guards and castle workers reacted to her passage with confusion, for one did not always see royalty racing headlong down corridors, but it wasn’t their place to tell them not to, either. She ignored them, continuing to pass them as a blue furred blur. Her charge only slowed when she found her sister, the gallop becoming a worried trot, her expression grave and concerned. “Sister,” Princess Luna called out as she approached, the pressing nature of her worries making her too impatient to wait until she was at her sibling’s side. “Did you feel it?” Princess Celestia’s bearing was grave, and the terse nature of her response enforced it with a single word. “Yes.” As sourceless as it was, Luna could only gaze at nothing as she reflected on the matter. At the other end of the hall, the same direction from which she came, a small group of guards were gathering, concerned with their ruler’s plight. Luna looked at them for a moment, her thoughts wandering, the question central to it all murmured out loud. “What does this mean..?” Rhetorical or not, Celestia had a response, one that would only add to the turmoil of thoughts and ideas that ran across their minds. “Our world is going to change. For better or worse… I don’t know yet.” It was minute, a difference that would have easily gone overlooked to anypony else. But she wasn’t just anypony else. She was the one who crafted this impressive array of crystals, stones, metals and minerals. She was the one who searched out old, ancient and forgotten principles and knowledge to devise the intricate structure that filled the stone walled room. This project was one born from her sweat and blood, from months of labour and effort in the face of criticism and rejection. No, anypony else would have missed the small mote of magic rebounding and glittering slightly within the small crystal tucked away in a remote corner of the artistic design. But not her. This was her baby, and it caught her eye within moments. For a long while, she just stared at it, her turquoise eyes glittering. She had endured it, ponies calling her work silly fiction, her efforts a fool’s errand. But this was proof, that little crystal and the tiny spark within it was proof. A smile tugged at the edge of her mouth and a soft declaration escaped her as she extended a hoof towards the small crystal that was now invaluable to her with almost motherly tenderness. “I was right.”