//------------------------------// // 6x: Strangers // Story: Chaotic Emergence // by Gambit Prawn //------------------------------// Maria followed the armed warden into a windowless, white building. It resembled a warehouse and looked hastily constructed, but the briefing had assured her that its concrete shell disguised a skeleton of reinforced steel. This was her first hint of the facility’s attitude towards the ponies. Somehow, she doubted the interior would make a better impression. Still, she had been ready for the worst. She knew exactly what to expect when a government representative had come recruiting at her hospital for a so-called special opportunity—”veterinary experience desirable” had been a dead giveaway. From there, all it had taken was for her to describe her experience managing medical purchases and the signing of a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement, and she now found herself in a pony internment camp near the Italy/France border. A guard swiped his access card and pushed the the wide iron doors open for the two of them. The overhead fluorescent lighting gave the interior a sterile look, but the prison-in-all-but-name was anything but orderly. Rows and rows of colorful ponies were packed into steel-gated stables that could barely fit them; a cacophony of murmured conversations in various languages created a constant low hum, and the smell of animal musk hung on the air. Most didn’t even bother to look when the two humans entered, but the few that did steal a glance at the heavyset nurse looked at her with empty eyes that held an unspoken plea with no real hope of fulfillment. They lay on top of one another out of necessity, huddling away from the gate when possible. Conversations screeched to a halt as the warden passed. The warden explained, “We take them out one group at a time every day. Rules state that they are never to be left unattended, but as you can tell, we’re shorthanded. This whole thing had to be hobbled together so quickly, but it’s just not enough. These pony things keep crawling out of the woodwork. This was one of the first facilities of its kind, so we’ve had to send some to other camps that are more prepared. Even then, we’re overflowing, especially since Germany has refused to operate their own.” Maria scanned the room twice before finding a corner with three stalls; each held four noticeably-larger stallions. “I was told there were more mares than stallions, but I didn’t realize it was this lopsided,” said Maria. “It’s not. We had to repurpose another building for the males, since they take up more room. Hell, it hasn’t even been a month, and we’ve already blown our budget, while the higher-ups keep dragging their feet because of ethics, jurisdiction, competences and all that shit. They’re starting pushing accountability nonsense on us, and I’m to my knees in paperwork. If you hire me to run a prison, let me do my damn job as I've always done it!" Maria tuned the man out as he vocalized several more complaints, turning her attention elsewhere. In between cells, she saw several posters of a musical note surrounded by a instantly-recognizable red circle with a line through it. “No Singing” was printed in half a dozen languages. “That’s a strange rule to prioritize,” she remarked as soon as she had an opening, pointing to the nearest poster. “Oh, trust me, you don’t want to whistle even so much as a note in here here, or else the whole room will burst into song. It sounds like a goddamn dirge—real awful to listen to. I’ll tell ya, they may have been human once, but those things are something entirely different now. Them all pulling the same song out of their asses at the same time is the least weird thing about them. Now, I’ve thought about this a lot, personally. I think they must have some sort of alien telepathy connection or something. If they’re all linked, that explains why they never give up anything consistent when we question them—to protect the collective. And now the government sends you here to give them healthcare on our dime...” The man no longer bothered to hide his annoyance at her presence; the disgust in his voice was starting to ooze through. Yet to her, his attitude only reinforced the need for her to be here—innocents just like her niece were, after suffering a traumatic bodily change, being dragged away and treated like criminals. Nonetheless, Maria decided that it would take far more than words to change his suspicion-addled mind. “Well, like you, I’m going to concentrate on doing my job. It’s irrelevant who deserves what; I’ve sworn an oath to help those I can.” The warden scowled, strumming the keys on his belt. “I can’t fault someone for doing their job, but watch your back around them. They may look cute, but they’re definitely up to something.” He led her back to the front entrance in tense silence. When they arrived, the door was already opening. A portly, balding guard then entered, carrying a sky-blue unicorn with a bubblegum-colored mane. “You can’t do zis to me. I am lead scientist at ze Max Planck Institute!” she said in a melodic, heavily accented voice. “Sure you are,” the guard mocked. “You can tell the other girls all about it. I’m sure the ‘Prince’ and the ‘First Lady of France’ would love to meet you." Maria was intrigued and couldn’t help but break from her escort and follow the new arrival back down the aisle. “Zis is an outrage, in complete violation of basic human rights.” “Look, honey, I just work here. We’re in the middle of renovations, so try not to make a fuss.” The pony just twisted her expression into a cartoonish image of indignity, but chose to say nothing more as the guard carried her to the end of the row, across from the block of stallions. “Man, I wish they’d let us out of here,” one shaggy stallion said as the guard passed. “We’d be rolling in pussy! That one over there really looks like she wants it.” “Unbelievable!” a deep voice responded. “Even now, that’s all you can think about!? Men really are pigs, huh, Jackie?” A grey, yellow-maned pegasus stallion solemnly nodded his head in response. Arriving, the guard swiped his card at the electronic lock of a cell already containing a half-dozen other pony mares. “Hey, Princess Buttercup, room for one more?” It was not a question. “I suppose, but it will be tight. I don’t suppose you could let us out more to make-up for it,” she answered, with a mild french accent. “Sorry, rules are rules,” the guard said in a friendly tone usually employed by adults in order to brush off curious children. “I told you it might happen. You guys just keep showing up.” “Thank you anyway,” the mare said with a sigh. Maria finally caught a glimpse of the speaker: She was the goldenrod hornless and wingless pony nearest to the door. Her purple, silver-tinged mane framed her chin, and she wore a patient smile as she regarded the newcomer. With a friendly nod of greeting, she moved aside to let the other pony be guided inside. The guard shrugged off Maria’s presence and turned to leave after checking the cell's lock. She, however, ducked behind a pillar and observed, deeply curious. The pink-maned unicorn looked overwhelmed by a whirlwind of potential questions before simply asking, “Are you really a prince?” “No,” she said, shaking her head deliberately, “My family name is Prins. One of the guards happens to call me Buttercup, and the nickname sticks. I don’t mind it too much, but try to resist the references.” “As you wish,” the scientist pony deadpanned, earning a pout from the earth mare. “I’m Gregor; I study sociology.” “Well, we’re all crammed in here, but this is Colette,” she said, pointing a hoof at a light-green, brown-maned pegasus. “Hello, dearie. Sorry if I’m a bit out of it. I’m still getting accustomed to this whole afterlife thing. Everything’s so bright and clear all of a sudden, but I still find myself adjusting my glasses out of habit, isn’t that funny? And people don’t have to scream at me when they talk.” “A pleasure to meet—” “You know the last time I felt this spry was nineteen sixty-three. And the old noodle’s sharper too, though the last fifteen years are still a blank to me. Funny story: When they were carting me away, I tried to tell them I was the president’s wife, that famous actress who was in that movie with that tall Swedish gentleman who used to play that famous writer on that one t.v. show. But then they told me the current president doesn’t even have a wife and is apparently missing to boot! But now I’m here. You know, I always thought I’d earn my wings after I crossed over to the other side, but not like this!" Having had a French boyfriend in her twenties, Maria was able to mostly follow along, even if it was a struggle. Gregor, on the other hand, was scratching his head. Colette then turned to Buttercup, continuing, “You know, the whole princess nickname is probably my fault—if I hadn’t tried that silly lie. Sorry about that, sweetums. Should have thought that one through, really.” “It’s quite all right, Ms. Labit, but I’m afraid the gentleman is too polite to tell you he can’t understand a word you’re saying,” the earth pony answered in French. “I’ll gladly interpret for you later, but would you mind if I introduced the others first?” Somehow this mare’s smile was genuine. Maria had to admire her diplomacy. “Yes, of course. As you can see, I’m still old at heart.” She laughed and moved to free up what little space she could near the front of the cell. Based on what had been said, Maria suspected the old woman had developed Alzheimer's prior to the changes, yet miraculously she looked every bit as youthful as the other ponies. That may well have been one of the first conversations she’s had in her right mind in over ten years. No wonder she’s so talkative and upbeat! “That’s actually a good segue to the twins,” Buttercup said, pointing to two ponies slumping in the middle of the crowded cell. A pair of motionless yellow-maned, indigo mares were huddled together closer than necessary on the dirt floor. Save for only one twin possessing wings, they were fully identical. Colette’s chipper attitude had only served to emphasize the misery of the glassy-eyed pair. “We know they’re sisters from Italy, but nobody here can make sense of their dialect.” Maria made a note to herself to include this in her first report. Identical twins both becoming ponies suggested a possible genetic link. She was surprised this hadn’t been investigated yet. “And at the back is June,” the impromptu tour guide continued. “She’s studying physics in Munich.” The red and black unicorn almost looked like she was in physical pain, grinding a hoof against the back wall as she clenched her teeth. “We’re letting her hang near the back so the stallions don’t stare. Trust me: you’ll appreciate the idea. However, she’s probably in no mood to talk right now.” Gregor seemed to only be half-listening. His fuzzy ears dipped, as if absorbing the overwhelming depression of the holding area. He quivered, as if everything about the situation suddenly coalesced to form a great weight on him. “How is it that you’re so strong?" he asked. "Why are you still smiling?" The purple-maned mare looked down for a moment, looking stressed, before suddenly regaining her composure. “Well, I guess I am because I have to be. I didn’t think I was particularly strong, but when I got here I felt—” “GONE! All of it!” the cell’s final occupant shrieked. “A life’s! work! gone!” The earth pony punctuated each word with a slam of her magenta-furred head against the door. Maria’s training immediately overtook her as she rushed to the door to prevent further self-harm. However, Buttercup beat her to it—she wrapped the other earth pony in a hug, using her body to block further impact against the door. “Shhhh. It’s okay, now. This is very hard for all of us, but it’s going to be all right. Calm down,” Buttercup said, soothingly running a hoof through the other mare’s cherry-red mane. “We can get through this. We just have to be there for each other. Would you tell us your name now?” The fuschia pony burst into tears and buried her muzzle in the stranger’s mane. With only a hint of trepidation, Gregor lay down beside them and pressed lightly on the sobbing pony’s back. “You’re still in here?” the warden asked, walking back towards Maria. After briefly scanned the scene unfolding in the cell—as if checking cargo for damage—he said, “I started putting the smallest ones together. You can cram seven of them in there if you do it like that.” It took all of Maria’s willpower not to glare as she followed the man out of the stable. There would be a time for her anger, but she would have to save it for writing her initial recommendations. She would prove to them that they were right to send her here and that this abhorrence needed to stop. Despite the pony not finishing, she understood perfectly well what Buttercup was going to say. Like her, she was only doing what she could to alleviate the suffering in front of her. In the face of such human kindness, how can anyone see them as less?