//------------------------------// // 10. Who Made Who // Story: Catherine the Great // by Scarheart //------------------------------// Edited by DJ_Neon_Lights, Kudzuhaiku, and TuxOKC. Night came and the first chamber of the new hive was nearly complete. The tunnel leading from it was nestled in between the two fallen and still living trees along the broken embankment. Changelings went out with smooth and efficient purpose, those leaving the entrance laden with dirt and stone. Others went in ready to help clear more debris left by the tunnelers. Routine had settled over the workers and it required little thinking to do what came to them as easily as did the act of breathing in and out. Those going in blew raspberries at those going out. Those going out flung bits of mud at the offenders. Tongues were soiled. The giggling was endless. Inside the first chamber were changelings who were shoring up the floor by secreting their building ooze from the holes in their legs. As they spread the substance from their legs over the floor, they fanned their wings and buzzed them to help aid in the drying process. It also helped to circulate the air. There were few enough changelings it only required three others to help funnel the old air out and channel fresh air in. Those changelings who were not busy with anything were engaged with Speaker in something of a philosophical debate. He held his discussion in the center of the room. The poor changeling had to go over the same topic time and time again. Resting changelings had questions when they weren’t working. Some were still coming to grips with no longer having Mother guide every aspect of their lives. “There are no alicorns on this world,” Speaker told the small group of changelings for the upteenth time. “There is no alicorn controlling the sun. There is no alicorn controlling the moon. Everything on this world moves with the intent of culling the weak from the strong. We must become strong. We must become survivors on this hostile, indifferent world. What about this part is so confusing for you? This world is dominated by hoomans, but there are other animals on this world who would look down upon you all and think of you as lunch.”         “How do you know this?” asked one of the changelings. The question came out, a halting pause after every other word. It was a sign a personality was developing. Or it could be the changeling had an issue with information going from its brain to its mouth. Either option could be completely feasible. Individuality for a changeling could be compared to being thrown into a frozen pond with no limbs and told to swim to the bottom.         Speaker gave the query some thought, bowing his head. He looked up at the changeling who had asked the question. “Some of you are still attached to the remnants of the hive mind. You still communicate with each other through it and keep it in working order. In time, the magic that held it in place will fade and it will break you of it, even if you don’t want to be free of the hive mind. We do not have Mother to give us guidance anymore. Her influence over us grows less and less with each passing day. Soon the last traces of her magic will fade and with it will go the link we have all grown up with.”         “Does this mean we can laugh at jokes if we think they’re funny and not laugh at the ones that aren’t funny?” A female changeling had her hoof up in the air. Not long ago, questions were not allowed. Absolute obedience to Mother’s will fostered no patience for them.         Sighing and rolling his eyes, Speaker then nodded. “Yes. Yes, you can do those things. You have a choice. Or you will have the option of making your own choices.”         “So,” another changeling ventured, hesitating as he drew out the word, “why do we need a queen? If we are becoming…” He fought to find the proper word.         “Individuals?” Speaker smiled with great patience. It was patience he was already running out of. He could hear the strain in his own voice. The fake smile he was wearing began to wear thin and become brittle. This question kept on cropping up. The question of individuality and the seeming conflict such a thing had with the desire to need a queen.         “Yes!” chirped the changeling happily. “Why do we need a queen if we’re becoming individuals? And why a hooman child? We can all feel the pull of her magic. Why do we need her? I do not understand.”         Speaker chewed on his bottom lip. This was a difficult question to ask and an even harder one to answer. It was a big step to take. The answer would no doubt lead to more questions in need of answers. Such was the cycle of learning. It never ended.         “Imagine if you will,” Speaker said, making it up as he went, “the magic that once guided us. Defined us. Made us what we are. Imagine for a moment we turned on that magic in order to find a different magic. It’s the same sort of magic we need as a collective, but it’s not one that will overpower our minds and leave us unable to think for ourselves.”         A female’s voice piped up. “That’s a horrible explanation! You’re doing it wrong!”         Speaker turned his head, curling his lips into a frown as he regarded the changeling who had interrupted him. She was slightly smaller than the other changelings, but carried herself with the poise of a warrior. Zilla had once harbored dreams of fighting in Mother’s military, but she had been rejected. Her organizational skills and obsession with details had instead steered her towards being designated as a recorder; a keeper of history.         In short, the hive’s librarian. Her mind was so complex, Mother decided to use the obsessive compulsive disorder to her advantage and catalogued the entirety of changeling history within her brain. Mother had even used Zilla to prepare herself for dealing with a unicorn who shared a similar love for books.         Speaker and Zilla did not get along. She thought he was an idiot and he thought she was an idiot. Some siblings never could see eye to eye.         “Would you like to explain it better, then?” Speaker asked his brainy sister.         “Didn’t you pay any attention to Newton, you nincompoop?”         “I am not a nincompoop!”         “Yes you are!”         “No, I’m not!”         “Are!”         “Not!”         “Look, brother,” Zilla said as she rolled her eyes. She motioned him to move out of the center of the group. Reluctance placed hesitation in his steps, but he complied while wearing a sour face. “It’s really quite simple. We need a queen because we are a hive. We are a swarm. Even if we all discover our own identities, we are going to need a queen. We were born with a need for a queen. Mother instilled that within all of us. Even if she is no more than a figurehead, and even less than a phantom of Mother in all aspects, changelings must always have a queen. Without a queen, we are not.”         “You’re going to sing now, aren’t you?” Speaker groused, peering at changelings pulling out musical instruments from empty air. Was that a Stratocaster or a Telecaster? he wondered as he stared. There was a difference in sound, but which did what? He could never remember.         “Yes. Yes, I am.” She smiled a broad smile and batted her eyelashes at Speaker. It infuriated him.         “Who introduces themselves into a story with a song?” Speaker complained, throwing his hooves into the air in exasperation.         Zilla gave him a flat glare. “I do, Speaker. I do.” She smiled like a shark before a bite. Mama once done and told me ‘A queen just ain’t a queen unless she’s got changelings behind her’ yeah She be runnin’ through the Mind Queen not gonna love the last equine ‘cause she love you True, it’s true         “A rock song? Really?” Speaker sputtered as he had his hooves clamped over his ears. “You idiots! Stop! We’ll be heard!”        Changelings not involved in the song produced lighters and waved them in the air. Now we gotta pay the piper The need to serve her We wired in our hearts and souls Feeling empty without her Lead us in this world It’s in our own blood to follow Freedom’s reach, yeah        Pyrotechnics flared and spotlights illuminated Zilla as she strutted in the center of the group. She stood on her hind legs, now sporting a black t-shirt that shouted ‘I’m Better Than Axel!’ in bold white print. It was freshly pressed.       Speaker was frantic as he tried to silence the heavy metal changelings. Two changelings clad in security shirts grabbed a hold of him and pinned him to the earth. His protests were drowned out by the loud music. Where was the power coming from? She made us, she made us She made us She didn’t have to tell us She made us, she made us If we love her and she made us Can’t help but follow and she made us She made us Mind follow through Yeah           Speaker was dragged from the group, mewling as he could already picture the humans appearing, armed with pitchforks and torches. Perhaps some would bring scientists with them so they might do experiments. Catherine would be forever denied her changelings. The changeling wept as his brothers and sisters started a mosh pit. He was dropped and the two security changelings glared at him. Catherine’s a new figure Innocent, we try To bring out magic Fillin’ in that great big hole ‘Cause we gotta have in our soul We know we follow Can’t help but follow, it’s what we know It what makes us whole        Newton appeared, along with Silky, Jo, Reggie, and Rupert. The other named changelings had gone out to explore the local area. The group observed the small mob rocking away to Zilla’s song. The bassist was quite good, even though Speaker was by now wailing in despair. Newton gave him a critical eye before flicking a tongue out speculatively. He and the others shared smirks with each other. She’ll free us, she’ll free us She’ll free us From ourselves, be ourselves She’ll free us, She’ll free us We must begin to teach her, show her The magic within and she’ll free us And then she’ll teach us all She’ll teach us She’ll free us She’ll teach us She’ll free us Yeah Mama once loved us         “You idiot female,” Speaker whimpered as the song died away and the changelings cheered. “What have you done?”         Newton clapped him on the withers. “My little brother. Zis vas anticipated. Zere is nothing for you to vorry about. It iz to be expected our brothers unt sisters vill vant to express themselves in unique vays, ja?”         Zilla took her bows and called out to her audience, “Do you understand a little better now?”         There was a mix of nods and shaking heads. “The music was awesome!” a changeling cried. This was generally accepted as the collective truth. Chirps sounded out.         “That rocked!”         “That was amazing!”         “I can’t hear a darned thing!”         “What?”         “What?”         “Huh?”         “I can’t hear you! The music made me deaf!”         “What?”         “Were we supposed to throw underwear at Zilla? A bra, maybe?”         “I’m on fire!” A changeling rolled around on the ground. Speaker thought he recognized him as his brothers and sisters tried without success to put the poor burning fellow out. It was the changeling who had flown into the tree earlier. To be fair, only one hoof was on fire. Unfortunately, the burning changeling flailed his holed hoof in the air, fanning the flames and making an odd whistling sound. “Put it out!”         Speaker facehooved. There was simply not enough stupid in some changelings.         “Don’t worry about ze sound,” Newton assured him. “I have soundproofed ze valls. Ve vill add more concealment spells as ve dig further into ze ground. Ze vater table is quite high unt ve must reinforce ze valls of ze tunnels unt chambers.” He seemed oblivious of the flaming changeling.         Kevin droned by carrying a large clump of earth in his legs. He was on his way out and waved at Speaker. The act of waving caused him to lose his load and it fell upon the changeling who was on fire.         The fire was put out and the changeling who had been burning lay still for several seconds. All eyes fell on the pile of clumpy dirt. A filthy hoof shot up from the mound of dirt and a muffled voice could be heard. “I’m okay!”         “I don’t know what to say,” Speaker said. He went over and helped the still smoldering changeling to his hooves. The little fellow thanked him and staggered off. Kevin dropped to the ground and began to gather up his spilled load of earth. He mumbled an apology to the unlucky changeling. It was waved off. Jo joined the conversation. “What?” Speaker pointed at Zilla and her band. “How did that happen?” Zilla took to wing, dangling her relaxed legs as she flew to Speaker. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think to appeal to the mob mentality,” she bragged as she landed as light as a feather in front of her brother. “I should have been the one chosen to be speak on behalf of the collective.” “Well, you had one thing that kept you from the role.” Speaker narrowed his eyes and stood up on stiff legs. His wings flared and he hissed at her. “Oh? What would that be?” Newton, Jo, Speaker, and Kevin all said in perfect unison, “OCD.” “You lack a certain flexibility,” Newton said. He gave her a studious eye. “You lack ze compassion necessary to bond with ze new queen. You are brilliant, deductive, unt meticulous in your vork, but you are missing ze one thing zat vould have made you a better choice.” Zilla challenged, “And what would that be, dear brother?” “Humility.” She blinked. “What do you mean, ‘humility’? I’ve got loads of humility! I’ve got so much humility that—” “Mother made you a librarian to teach you humility before you could even sniff at the lowest military ranks,” Jo reminded her with the corners of her mouth downturning a touch. “Because you’re such a know-it-all, it’s made you a bit…” Speaker finished for Jo when her voice trailed off. “Arrogant.” Zilla protested, “I am not arrogant!” Speaker glanced at the impromptu stage behind his brainy rock star envisioning sister. Reaching out a hoof, he patted her on the shoulder, reading her t-shirt again. “Of course you’re not, sister. Of course you’re not.”