The Conversion Bureau
HUMAN
in Equestria
By Chatoyance
14. The Dust Of Four Years
Lime Sherbet is used with the permission by the superb author Gabriel LaVedier, from the excellent Dames Of The Tea Table, which you should read because it is wonderful.
Every day, just after princess Celestia set her bright sun, and princess Luna caused the stars to show and the moon to rise into the sky, Lime Sherbet entered the Waiting Room.
There were only two statues left, the little human filly which Lime had learned was called 'Isla' and the larger human filly-to-be who was called 'Oliver'. The larger held the smaller up, over its head, trying, apparently, to save the little human filly without regard to itself. The frost had taken most of poor Oliver's lower body, such that the creature would begin to die the second it was released from stone.
But of course, the princesses would not allow that to happen. Not so long as the courageous human child agreed to allow itself to be helped.
Lime, as she dusted the double statue, wondered at the pair. The little filly, up so high, had such an expression of gratitude and horror. She had been aware, in that moment, of just what her friend was doing for her. And her friend? The stone expression was not one of horror or fear. Just selfless determination.
When Celestia had announced, so many years ago now, that she was going to allow refugees into Equestria, it had caused quite a stir. Everypony knew the story of the griffons, and of the trouble they had caused when they had been allowed to stay. The diamond dogs, when they found their way to Equestria from beyond, had begun their lives with the death of an innocent pony. And the dragons - most ponies tried not to think overly much about the dragons.
Celestia had a habit of rescuing the dying and the doomed, and in the past this had resulted in great tragedy until things had finally been worked out. The Pax Equestria now kept the four great races - pony, dog, griffon and dragon - at peace. But there had not always been peace, and those difficult times had cost countless pony lives.
Many had objected, openly or in quiet, to allowing the 'humans' in. The arguments had raged through the royal court. It would be like the griffons, some said. It would be the dogs all over again, others claimed. It could be another draconic-level situation, some whispered.
Celestia had said three things to all of this.
The humans were dying. Their world could survive for only three more generations, and then their entire kind would perish, forever.
She had promised the humans, in exchange for her very life, that she would rescue them.
This time it would be different. These refugees would not come as strange monsters, but as ponies just like anypony, anywhere. They would not kill, like the griffons and the dogs and the dragons. They would not try to conquer, like the griffons and the dragons. They would not steal or enslave, like the dogs and the dragons. They would not harm a single pony, because they would become ponies themselves.
And though it would be difficult, there would be benefits. The humans were clever, and imaginative. They had new songs and new stories and new foods and ways of preparing them. In becoming ponies, they would allow all ponykind to vastly outnumber the dogs, and the griffons, and the dragons, which would safeguard pony interests within the universe.
But still there were complaints. The humans had destroyed their own world. They were greedy, and violent, and dangerous. These things might be cured by ponification, but why help them at all?
Celestia had said one thing to that.
The humans could not help themselves, because they were the product of an uncaring, deadly cosmos. But even so, despite this, they were capable of the most astonishing love, the most powerful devotion, the most magnificent self-sacrifice, and the most enduring friendships. Despite living in a nightmare, they often tried their best to be more than what they were.
Lime studied the two figures. The larger filly had known she would die, that the frost would take her, but she had lifted her little friend up over her head. She had stopped running, so that she would not slip, so that she would not drop her smaller friend. Lime tried to picture the moment... the little human creature realizing that there was no way to outrun the killing cold. Standing its ground, grabbing the little filly and lifting her, protesting, up over its head. Thinking only of her friend's survival, knowing that she herself was doomed.
And the humans did not experience death the way Equestrians did. For them, the end was... truly the end.
Lime tried to encompass what it would be like, as a foal, to make so dire a decision, to actually do such a thing.
She thought of Crimson, and Morning Star, and the other newfoals she had met. No, it hadn't been at all like the dragons or the griffons or the diamond dogs this time. These strange, thin, flat muzzled aliens deserved a second chance.
As she left the Waiting Room, the dusting done, she hummed a tune that she had once heard. Princess Luna had taken her and a mutual friend to see a show put on by newfoals. They had sat in a balcony, covered in dark cloaks, sipping tea. The newfoals had brought many good things to Equestria. Their foods, their artwork, their stories, and of course, their wonderful and clever songs.
"Mairzy doats and dozy doats
And liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
Yes! Mairzy doats and dozy doats
and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I would. Alehoof ivy is tasty, especially with garlic." Lime made her way down the hall. "Oh, pudding. Now I feel hungry again!"
Stefan Bettencourt went over the numbers. He noted the little splotch of ink that covered part of the column that listed the number of families reduced in rank to servants. Quill pens were still a problem for Bertarelli. Roman was the only man Bettencourt trusted to handle such matters, but even after thirteen years, he still couldn't get the hang of using quill pens.
"Roman. How many children are left?" Another splash of ink obscured that number, and Stefan couldn't help but wonder if this particular accident was entirely accidental.
Bertarelli's expression was grim. "Thirty-six."
"Out of eighty-seven human children, only thirty-six remain?" Stefan scowled at the thought. Since that first year, when his own daughter had run off with five other children, the story of their escape to ponydom had led to attempt after attempt. With the new ruling that came from the 'guns and bacon' incident, any human that left the walls of the Masada was legally subject to immediate ponification.
Any child that could breach the walls could be assured of safely becoming a pony by bedtime. The princesses would not permit another tragedy, and adult humans had been declared untrustworthy and above all, a traitorous danger to the court. Which, honestly, they would have been, if their scheme hadn't been rumbled by the ghost of a goddamned dead pig.
Forty-five children had followed his rebel daughter Petra. Somehow they managed to get outside. Stefan suspected - no, he felt certain - that the escaping children were getting assistance from beyond. Mysterious breaches in the walls just large enough for a child to crawl through. A mysterious climbing ivy that had grown overnight, providing an organic ladder over the barricade. A tunnel under the wall that was suspiciously safe and well dug.
Worst of all, most of the time, the parents and other family members followed. They willingly left the gates and went pony to be with their children. Half of the new servant class had run away in just such a manner. Of the over three hundred Good Families, less than eighty now remained in the Human Masada. There could be no more new children, and everyone knew it. Bettencourt sank his head into his hands, his elbows on the desk.
It was already over. He had tried. He had tried to keep the true humanity, the ruling class in power, and to keep them human, but he had failed. The children couldn't understand that there was something more important than mere happiness, exceptionally long and comfortable lives, endless plenty and life in a beautiful magical wonderland. Children couldn't understand the value of real power. They couldn't comprehend the majesty of being a true human being whatever the cost.
What hurt Stefan the most, though, was that apparently those he once called the ruling class, adults, had willingly joined their wayward children. The biggest shock of all had been Brin's defection. For a mere child. That moment when Sergey had invoked Section Six, trying to get Celestia to ponify his mortally injured child... Stefan still had not recovered from that betrayal. When Brin had fought his way outside the gates, after the ruling, Bettencourt had not been the least bit surprised.
Hurt, yes. Angry, yes. But not surprised.
The Good Families were becoming peasants, mere rabble, the lot of them. Once their ancestors had been kings and pirates, robber barons and empire builders. Now, most had fled, seduced by the small desires of the weak - pastoral plenty, beauty and friendship, a life of magic and pleasure. They were mere animals, no better than the corporate wage slaves that once they had owned the lives of.
"Enough, Roman. Enough." Bettencourt's head ached. The writing was not on Bertarelli's sheets, but on the wall. The Masada was dissolving, fading, ending. He, Stefan Bettencourt, had held the entire population of earth hostage to secure the special treatment that now his ruling elite were throwing aside. What had it all been for, he wondered? All the wars of conquest, both economic and physical? All the work to make the earth their own private farm, with billions of peasants to work it? Centuries of striving to become the de facto kings and queens of the planet?
But there was no planet, now. "Go. Just... go."
Roman Bertarelli left, shaking his head. He quietly closed the door behind him.
Bettencourt sat, alone in the Muleskinner, staring through the windows at an alien, magical moon. In time, they would all leave. There was no way to stop them. Future ponies, the lot of them. Even Roman, that old bastard. But not him. Not Stefan Bettencourt. "I won't." He didn't know if the lunar princess could hear him, but he spoke out loud anyway. "I say no. In this world, your world, you would call me a monster, wouldn't you?" Of course there was no answer.
"I won't be a peasant. I would rather rule in hell, than serve in heaven. Milton was right. If I am the last human man, I will not settle for less than my proper place." Bettencourt's face grew red.
"I AM THE CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF MANKIND!" Stefan panted, out of breath. "I am the god-damned chief executive officer... of all mankind..." The moon shone down, implacable, uncaring. "I... I am a big... deal. A big, god damned deal."
Just to the right of the moon, Stefan noticed a pattern in the stars. It was a smiley face, the sort once popular on the hypernet, long ago. Luna must have arranged the stars that way to give any night watchers a gentle laugh.
Even the cursed sky of this place mocked him.
Purple, shimmering wings carved the air into a sculpture of flight. The young pegasus colt carefully circled the apartment tower, until the third level balcony came into view. Conscious of his saddlebags, he flapped to gentle landing beside the large ceramic planter overflowing with mallow and clover. "MOoooommm! I'm hooommme!"
Peridot set her quill back into the ink pot, and withdrew her telekinetic field. She had been laying out, in thaumatic script, the parameters of a focusing spell that could be used in the thaumatic microscope project. The effort had widened to the development of a tool that non-unicorns could use. The new version of the microscope used a Bevelmeiter tube to magically drive a mental link that any pony could tap into. In theory, pegasai and earthponies could use the device even without a unicorn being present. The focusing spell would permit such ponies to zoom in, or out of whatever they were studying.
It had been two years now, working on the microscope, since her son had been brought back to life. Things moved slowly in Equestria, but then they didn't need to move quickly. Entropy held no court of dire judgement here, there were no terrible droughts or freezes or crop failures to fear, and all the predators of any real danger had signed the Pax Equestria and were now friends. Pushing for progress was the game of desperate aliens from dying worlds. That, and ancient, grumpy unicorns like Peridot's supervisor.
It was Peridot's wish that her child might one day see what she saw, without needing her help. Beyond that, medicine and research were not the province of unicorns alone. There were many earthponies and pegasai in all fields, and if earthponies in particular could be given the mystical perception of unicorns, the benefits to all ponykind could be fantastic.
"Oh... I didn't get to see you land!" Peridot took a great deal of pride in her colt's flying ability. He was having some trouble learning advanced flying, but he had proved exceptional at the basics. His landings were exceedingly good, well controlled, and almost silent. Peridot loved simply to watch her child land. It looked so effortless and splendid.
"I guess I can take a turn around the tower and do it again, if you really want." His tone did not suggest that this was something he was very enthusiastic about doing.
"No, no. It's all right. Momma's just..." Sometimes Peridot's voice would catch when she said that. Momma. The only thing that made her more proud and happy in her new life than her thaumatechnical work, was knowing that she mattered to her son. "Momma just loves to see you fly. It's pretty amazing, you know."
Peridot hugged her colt tight, with her neck, and then pulled back. "How was school today?"
Shinden Cabochon - his name meant 'magnificient lightning' and was taken from some ancient experimental plane his mother liked - wiggled free from his saddlebags and headed toward the kitchen. "I still can't do that thing where you go up, roll over, and swoop down."
"Immelmann turn?" Peridot followed her son, lifting his saddlebags with her hornfield and setting them on the hook by the door in passing.
"No." Shinden finished pouring a glass of spiced cider and replugged the keg. He took a sip. "Well...yes, but that's the human term for it. It's really called a... um... Nimbuswing Maneuver." Mom was always using alien words for stuff. It was confusing sometimes, especially when he kept forgetting the correct terms.
"Of course." Peridot's ears briefly fell, then lifted. "Nimbuswing. Sorry." There was so much to learn - and unlearn - for both of them. "I was thinking we could go out tonight. I've got a lot to do on my project for tomorrow, and... well, cooking takes a long time. Is that okay?" Peridot enjoyed cooking, and it made her feel happy when Shin liked the food she made, but her project nagged at her.
Shinden seemed excited at the thought. "Pizza! Can we get pizza? Pleeeese? Pizza? Mom?"
Peridot sighed. Ever since the new pizza restaurant had opened on the first tier, it had drawn her son like a magnet. Him... and a lot of the population of Canterlot City. There was always a line to get in. Earth cuisine had become trendy of late. "Shin... there's always a line... the whole reason for going out is so that..."
That look. Oh, sweet Luna, protector of foals - and fools. "PLEEEEEEZZZEEE????"
Sedulous The Incontinent would make that 'harrumphing' sound at her tomorrow. She'd get dirty glares from him until lunch time, which usually cheered the ancient unicorn up. But that look... that look on her Shinden's muzzle!
Her heart melted... like four different cheeses under six kinds of vegetables. "Yes... we can do pizza. Again."
"YAY!!!" Shinden ran out of the kitchen, straight for the balcony. "Just for you mom!"
With a flap of graceful purple, the young pegasus was in the air, already beginning a circle around the entire apartment tower.
Peridot went to the balcony entrance, and looked out over Canterlot. She laughed to herself. The microscope could wait. It wasn't like getting her work done tonight made any real difference. Sedulous was just fussy. What did matter was hearing about her son's day over his favorite food, and being allowed that precious, irrecoverable moment with him, before he grew up and no longer needed her the same way anymore.
She had almost three hundred years to finish that microscope. But childhood was short, and it only happened once. Peridot had almost thrown the gift of being Shinden's mother away, back when he was 'Milo'. Nothing in all of Equestria could make her want to throw it away twice.
She kept herself from showing it, but she almost started to cry when Shinden came to a perfect, gentle, utterly controlled landing. She felt so proud. "That... that was really good, son. Thank you for letting me see." Peridot turned and sniffed, briefly. "Go get your flight manual. We can go over the... Nimbuswing Maneuver at dinner. Maybe I can help."
"MOOOooommmm!" This was not the completely free-from-responsibility night Shinden had been hoping for.
"Ponies who get pizza three nights this month are ponies that also get good grades." Peridot loved indulging her son, but there was a limit. "No arguing now."
"Aw... Snickerdoodles." Shinden stomped to his saddlebags, on the hook by the door. He rooted around in the right bag with his muzzle until he pulled out his flight book. It was the one that smelled like cheese. He'd taken it to the pizza parlor before. "I goth ith!"
"Tell you what." Peridot grabbed her own saddlebags, the light, fashionable ones. "IF you can recite the Stall Proceedure, without looking at the book - the whole thing now - we'll go get ice cream after." Peridot watched as her colt tucked his flight manual under a wing.
They headed for the long, spiral ramp down. "Um... 'When your feathers fail, and you start to fall, that is what is called a STALL!" Mother and son began the trek down the tower. Without a thought, the door was left wide open. It was Equestria.
"Good," Peridot smiled at her son. "But not ice cream good. Next line?"
Shinden's poll wrinkled briefly. "You might feel a bit of fear, but control and sense will save your rear..." The sun was going down. Just above the first tier, at castle level, the two princesses were trading off day and night. "...reduce the angle of attack, increase speed and don't look back!"
The city spread out before them, ponies everywhere, going home, going out to eat, going to shows, just enjoying the sunset. Peridot considered taking a cab to the first tier, but then remembered the lovely park on the way. It was just such a nice park, and everything was just so pretty.
Sedulous could be as grumpy as he liked tomorrow. The lightsprite firefly lanterns were being awakened, everywhere now they glowed. Somewhere, probably in the park above, Peridot could hear music playing. "Very good!"
Shinden grinned. "Ice cream!"
"Yes. You don't mind if we walk there, do you?" Peridot smiled and nodded at a couple as they passed. A unicorn and an earthpony smiled and nodded back.
"Nope. Especially if we just... happen... to walk by the toy store."
"Just happen... to walk by the toy store?" The poor thing couldn't be less sneaky if he deliberately tried.
"Well, you know... it might be on the way... and if it was... it might be fun... to peek inside. Just a little."
Peridot worked hard not to laugh. "Just take a little look. Just in case. To be sure."
"Exactly!" Shinden's face lit up. "You never know, you know?"
"Oh, I know. Oh, how I know." Peridot was losing the battle not to smile.
"Exccccellaaaannnnt." Shinden's large ears twitched in devious delight. Doubtless he thought himself a pegasus mastermind. The little colt turned and looked at his mom. "What are you laughing about?"
Hwinem finished the row, then bent his neck back to unlock and lift the coulter and mouldboard. With a twist of his head, they were locked again, but above the ground. Now the ploughcart could be easily pushed back to the barn.
The newfoal once named 'Sergey' had taken the name Hwinem to be clever. He thought it was clever, anyway. His son, Asher - the reason he had become a newfoal - had named himself Swiftwind. It was a bit of an unusual name, because his son was a unicorn. 'Swiftwind' would have been a perfect name for a pegasus, and in fact Hwinem often dealt with that. When he mentioned his son, the common response would be 'Pegasus, eh?' which would lead to having to explain, no, he's a unicorn, he just likes to run fast. 'Oh!' would come the surprised reaction, 'That's usually a pegasus name, wind and air and all that, you know?'
Not once had Hwinem ever been asked about his own, unusual name. This mildly aggrieved him.
His son was named Swiftwind. Jonathan Swift. Gulliver's Travels - Hwinem knew for a fact the book had been translated (with only minor expurgations) to Equestrian - it was in the local library in the 'extraversal books' section. Hwinem. It was how 'Houyhnhnm' - the race of intelligent, talking horses in the book - was pronounced!
Hwinem sighed. It was likely that few of the locals actually used the library much. Despite princess Luna's efforts to inspire more reading - 'Reading is as sustenance to the wit!' the campaign hadn't actually made much of an impact in highly rural East Paddock.
Swiftwind wanted a place where he could run, where he could be by a pond with animals and trees all around. Canterlot was out, and that left the borders of Equestria, almost to the start of the Exponential Lands. Hwinem wanted to be near to Canterlot Mountain, and the Human Masada on the back of it, and Swiftwind did want to be able to visit Canterlot again someday, so East Paddock was a decent compromise.
A week on hoof or a few hours by air was not too close or too far. Hwinem and Swift shared a very comfortable two-story cottage in the village, and Hwinem had regular work on all of the farms. Land ownership was somewhat loose in tiny East Paddock, so pretty much everypony shared everything, and the various farms were essentially one big village farm. Everypony had a stake in the harvest, because everypony shared, and so everypony helped out. Hwinem had half-laughingly remarked that only ponies could make communism actually work.
Nopony had understood the word 'communism'. Old Beans, the elder of the village, wanted to know what 'izem' was, and felt it couldn't be that common, if he hadn't ever heard about it. Tangle, the village barber (and medic, and dentist, and farrier) reasoned that 'izem' sounded like something a pony could eat. Hwinem had tried to explain what he had really meant, but failed utterly. Finally, in defeat, Hwinem had offered that izem tasted sort of like strawberries.
Both Tangle and Beans thought and discussed and pondered and considered. Finally they decided that izem had to be just another name for strawberries, and those were pretty darn common, so - by that logic - Hwinem must be right. So they bought him a cider for 'knowin' fancy words'.
After that, Hwinem was the go-to pony for anything the villagers didn't understand. Since Hwinem was a newfoal, and didn't understand much of Equestria, in a moment of pressure he once resorted to making stuff up. It seemed to work. He got cider for free, and nopony in East Paddock seemed to care. Hwinem half suspected they knew he was pulling notions out of his flank, and that really, they just enjoyed him going on about things.
Free cider is free cider.
"Dad!" Swiftwind ran up to his father, and helped him store the ploughcart properly. With the barn door securely shut - so the chickens wouldn't try to nest in the carts - the two began the walk to their cottage.
"I spent the day at the pond!" Swiftwind loved the pond. Hwinem enjoyed hearing about his son's adventures there. Sometimes Swift liked to swim, most times he played with his animal friends. Apparently, there were all sorts of little animals in Equestria, and all of them were semi - or completely - sapient. Only hooved animals had the power of speech, but other creatures were still smart, and they had their own ways of communicating. Swift had befriended all he could find.
"Dusty - he's the big trout I told you about? Dusty did this backflip, splash, right in the pond, only the water went all over Jumper and she got so mad!" Swiftwind was damp with sweat. He'd apparently had a good day running about.
"Jumper?" It was hard to keep up with all of his colt's little animal friends. "Bunny, right?"
"No! Skylark. She likes to jump around because flying frightens her." Of course, a bird. How silly to think otherwise. "Jumper got so mad at getting splashed that she squawked really loud, and that woke up Squirrely, who was sleeping and..."
Hwinem interrupted. "I didn't know you knew a squirrel. Red or grey?" Hwinem had seen storybook pictures of red squirrels and always wanted to see one for real.
"Squirrel? Oh - Squirrely! No, he's a beaver. Totally nuts, though. Just crazy as a loon. anyway, Squirrely..."
"Wait..." Hwinem pushed open the door of the cottage with a hoof. "Squirrely's a beaver, who's Crazy the loon?"
"The loon's not named Crazy, dad." Swiftwind used his horn to pump water into a large bowl, which he then began drinking from. "The loon's name is Logic. Anyway, Squrrely woke up like 'AHHHH!' and Jumper went 'WARRRRK!' and..."
"You know a loon named 'Logic'. In this village." Hwinem shook his head as he set about making dinner.
"Logic's really smart, dad. She knows more than any waterfowl I've ever met." The colt seemed serious.
"So you know a skylark named Jumper, a beaver named Squirrely, a trout named Dusty, and a loon called Logic? Is that correct?"
Swiftwind pumped more water. He was very thirsty. "Uh-huh. Yeah?"
"Third base." Hwinem checked the pantry for mallow. Ah. Mallow roots. That would do.
"What?" Swiftwind was confused.
"Never mind, son." Cabbage would be ideal. There had to be some in the garden. "Can you go get cabbage, Swift?"
"I didn't know you knew Cabbage!" Swiftwind seemed overjoyed. "Should I invite him for dinner?"
Oh yes. 'Cabbage' was Swift's donkey friend from down the road. "No. I mean get cabbage - the plant - from the garden. Please?"
"Oh." The colt seemed disappointed.
Hwinem sighed. "If you can find three cabbages out there, you can ask your friend to join us."
"I'm on it!" That seemed to cheer the foal up.
Hwinem watched his colt rooting through the vegetable garden. He smiled as he leaned on the windowsill. The daisies were moving, growing in real time and tickling his nostrils. Oh. Earthpony. It was easy to forget, sometimes. Happy feelings made the plants grow, and what he felt for his son must have made the freshly planted daisies shoot up and flower in just those few seconds.
Swiftwind had two cabbages in his telekinetic field and was searching about for a mature third.
Hwinem carefully touched a forehoof to one of the daisies in the little pot. An almost electric green crackle danced between hoof and plant, barely visible. One would hardly notice it normally. The plant responded by growing even taller, and producing three more tasty flowers. It was a strange thing, being magic. But it was also satisfying in a way nothing else in his earthly career ever had been.
Reams of paperwork just couldn't compare with making a single flower grow because of the love in your heart for your son. All of that accounting and legal nonsense. Infighting and family politics. Trying to destroy rival families, using obscure points to ruin lives by violating the spirit of agreements. Getting ahead was a dirty business.
Hwinem delicately touched the edge of his forehoof to the soil in the pot and marveled as miniscule electric snakes of green light wove their way through the dirt. The daisies seemed to stand taller, as if coming to attention, eager to please.
Getting ahead had been a dirty business. But actual dirt... was a clean business. Hwinem shook his head in confusion and wonder. It was so different out here, outside the Masada.
"Third cabbage!!!" The three vegetables danced and floated around his colt's head, all wrapped in blue light.
Hwinem laughed. "Go get your friend, Swift!" the cabbages floated to the windowsill, where the blue glow faded. Hwinem watched his unicorn son galloping off down the dirt road, kicking his hooves up in simple joy.
With the pan heating, Hwinem held the blade by the handle with his teeth. His mouth grip was solid, and he didn't feel any shock as he chopped the cabbages and mallow. Hwinem considered... spicy, or sweet? Little of each, he reckoned, and used a bit of both sauces. It seemed that stir-frying was a pan-universal cooking technique. Then again, why not? A pan was a pan, be it a wok or an Equestrian saddle-skillet. The curved cooking surface reduced the grease content, but looked odd. It worked though.
Hwinem added a little more vegetable oil. The smell of dinner almost overwhelmed his nostrils, and made his belly rumble.
It had been three years now, since Hwinem had been transformed, since he had traded hands for hooves. The first few months had been difficult. He had felt clumsy and unsure of his new body. Now, he was amazed at how easily he accomplished things with nothing more than mouth and hoof. Swiftwind had his magic, but earthponies had their supernal agility and tirelessness.
Hwinem balanced a platter on his back, as he had finished with the sweet-n-spicy improvised dish. Swift and his newest friend were already galloping toward the cottage.
Intelligent animals, magic, ponies and donkeys and loons and beavers and green growing everything everywhere. Equestria was not a simple world, but it was... it was a nice one, Hwinem decided. He reached back and placed the platter on the table just as the two colts burst in.
"This is Cabbage, dad! He's my friend!" Swiftwind beamed.
The donkey colt grinned and waggled his ears in greeting. "Hello, Swiftwind's dad!"
No background checks, no security reports, no assessments of financial status, no concerns about connections, affiliations, or family history. There was a new personage in the house, and he was a friend. Just like that.
"Well, hello there Cabbage!" Hwinem laughed. "I hope you like yourself, because that's what's for dinner!"
The donkey turned his head and blinked. "I love cabbage!" Equid noses. He would have known what was being cooked from his own yard. "In fact, you'll never guess where I got my name!"
Hwinem had a pretty good guess.
Then again, considering all of his son's animal friends at the pond, it was almost certainly wrong.
Lime Sherbet placed the hearthswarming wreathes around the marble chamber. The four years were nearly up. Next month, the smaller statue would turn eighteen by the calender, and then both Isla and Oliver could be brought back to life.
Lately, Oliver's mother, Hyssop Garden, had been coming sometimes twice a month to see her child. She had been ponified years ago, in preparation for what was soon to come. Lime had spoken with her several times.
"I just want her to have a really nice home when she becomes a pony. I've made her the most darling room, and I've gotten everything she could need. At least I think I have. If only she'd told me..." The teal pegasus had fluttered her wings and rubbed her poll on the statue of Oliver. "Oliver confided in Celestia things she didn't feel safe telling me. I tried to make her understand she could tell me anything, but..."
"Maybe little Oliver was just afraid of burdening you with something you couldn't do anything about? It's pretty clear your filly cared about others more than herself." Lime always tried to comfort every guest of the princesses. Actually, Lime just tried to comfort everypony she could. It was just nice... to be nice.
"No, no..." Hyssop Garden had looked sad, then. "In the old world... it wasn't accepted... to be born the wrong sex. Oliver would have gotten that message from everything and everypony around her. Even from me, I suppose, back then."
"I don't think I'll ever understand what it must have been like for you. But you're here now! And the princesses will make everything all right, you can be sure of that. Little Oliver will awaken to only love and friendship and support, right?" Lime had gently nuzzled the worried mother.
"Yes. Yeah... I just feel bad sometimes, for the past. But you're right Ms Sherbet." Hyssop brightened. "I'm here now. I'm finally fully here for my Oliver, and that's what matters."
The wreathes didn't actually do that much to brighten the Waiting Room, but they were a cheerful effort. At least it was a way of including the poor stone children in the life of the castle. They couldn't see or hear or feel or think, but Lime liked to imagine that somehow they could sense the love she tried to send their way.
Ten years seemed like a long time. Luna had explained that, for the children, no time at all would have passed. Oliver and Isla had waited the longest of all the Masada runaways, a full decade - until Isla was legally eighteen. It had been too dangerous to try to separate the two.
In a month, the little circus would return. Lime wondered if they would all show up. Crimson and Plantain, Morning Star, Swiftwind and Shinden, and their parents too. Celestia was sending special invitations to everypony involved this time, for one big, last reunion.
In a way, it was slightly sad. As Lime exited the Waiting Room, she realized this next event would be the last time that the Masada Six would be a part of castle life. She had gotten used to the excitement of the revivifications. They were like opening presents in a way, with the gift inside being new ponies to laugh and play and be glad of the magic of life.
Just before she turned the corner, she remembered her feather duster. Silly. Lime went back into the Waiting Room and lifted her duster with her hornfield. The last four years had been the last years of her taking care of the lithified children. In one month, the Waiting Room would likely vanish altogether. The corridor would just suddenly lack one door. And not a single member of the staff would see it happen, most likely.
Though Lime had been working on a plan to try.
2973513
*smiles* it is just a story dear. Humans, their mad machinations and their passing are simple story elements - no more real than the talking ponies or a loon named Logic. :)
Chatoyance is not writing to upset anyone's personal beliefs, she is simply illustrating the dichotomy of the two realms, one being analogus to 'heaven', the other 'hell'... But in this story, the second coming of Celestia did not winnow the wheat from the chaff nor did it stipulate eternity in a lake of fire; here all were worthy of paradise regardless and hell was swept away forever.
In that way, this story automatically has a happier ending. :)
2973513
Actually, Empress Aurora said everything better than I could. What she said. She's brill, you know.
"The diamond dogs, when they found their way to Equestria from beyond, had begun their lives with the death of an innocent pony."
I see what you did there.
2973883
Yes! I consider Midnight Shadow's writing to be canon with regard my own TCB universe variant.
In my universe, everything in the Ambassador's Son books are Mostly to Entirely true. It doesn't work the other way round, mind you. His universe doesn't include all of my stuff in the same way. It's a mostly one-way ontological transfer, and that's fine. His Ambassador's world - as far as I know - has no stated connection to my Bureau stories. But in the other direction, I enjoy celebrating his writing by making his work canon in my stories.
And he's not the only one. Gabriel LaVedier's Dames of the Tea Table is considered true within my universe in just the same manner. Fangwarden, Defoloce, TalonMach5, Windchaser, Silvertie, Lux and Krass and more, to greater or lesser degrees. I celebrate many other authors within my stories, as a way to feel part of a community of writing friends. My version of the TCB is a very big tent, and there is room for more than just selfish, egotistical me under it.
That was always my dearest dream, when I started writing TCB stories. Happy writing friends sharing a marvelous universe of ideas together. Loyal and true. There has been a lot of sorrow and trouble, and not all have proven to be the friends they claimed to be, but that original dream of true writing friendship has never entirely died within me, and it never will.
And as for Midnight Shadow specifically - well. He has always been utterly wonderful, and good, and the best of writing friends. The only thing possible is to celebrate him, and his amazing work.
Hmmm.
Were I in the shoes of a human in Equestria in this universe, I cannot deny that there would be a strong temptation to give in, to accept Celestia, to be converted. We can spout empty defiance all day long, but the truth of the matter is: it's pretty lonely being an outsider, having no one to rely on but yourself. It's pretty miserable having aches and pains and all those little minor health issues that add up, that a pony never has to deal with. It's pretty scary facing death, no matter how much you may try to put on a brave face. And it's pretty tempting to accept a life that pretty much just... automatically makes you happy and fulfilled, if you put forth even a token effort. I gotta admit, all of those factors would be stewing in the back of my head, all the time.
But.
I'm kind of reminded of that old quote by Henry Ford: "People can have the Model T in any color, so long as it's black." Equestria is perfectly welcoming, perfectly open, perfectly friendly... but only if you're an equine, too. Otherwise, you are greeted by fear and distrust, no matter the content of your character. Perhaps they have good reason to be leery. But from where I sit, it just seems... shallow. Like your acceptance is contingent on you conforming to their standards of what a person should be. And if ponykind couldn't see a little bit deeper than that, if they couldn't like a person for who they were rather than who they wanted those people to be... it doesn't seem like there'd be much incentive to seek their approval at all.
Change is good. Growth is good. Approval of a person SHOULD be based on whether or not they're a good person, and it's canonically established in this 'verse that being a pony makes you a better person. I accept that premise. But ponykind generally does not even seem willing to give humans a shot, first. They'd rather just go straight to the judging part.
Of course, if it was me in this story, there's no way I'd ever accept being kept prisoner in the Masada, either. I imagine I'd ignore that order completely, and things would come to a head with Celestia reeeeaaaaal quick.
Haha, Lime Sherbet looks like she's biding her time to take over the world! in that picture.
I don't even want to know how Sedulous earned that name. But then again, my guess is surely wrong.
Just like Hwinem. Thank you for making the "Third base"-joke. I expected that since the first two names and my mind would have exploded if it hadn't been there.
Hey, Stefan: you have been trolled. You have lost. Have a nice day.
Shin is gonna be so spoiled. (And snickerdoodles is fun to say!)
I love Swiftwind's cockeyed naming system.
Nice to see what they're all doing in-between revivifications.
When did they start teaching Pegasi aerial combat maneuvers from World War I and anime?
Happiness versus stubborn pride. So it goes. I still think turning off the humans' gonads was a rather jerkish act. I can understand the thinking that went behind it, but it still rubs me the wrong way.
In any case, a very nice transition, showcasing the lives of the characters as time marches on. The final delithification approaches, and I'm looking forward to it.
Chaos, however, held court on alternate Thursdays (or whenever Discord felt like it.)
I'd always thought the lyric was "a kiddley divey too, wooden shoe". ;) I may have to call my grandma today; that song made me think of her.
You got a "Hwinym" in there once. Oops.
I feel sorry for Stefan.
In the Chatoverse, humans are punished for being human, and for wanting to stay human. It's fine, though, because only bad people want to stay human. Met a good human? They want to go pony. The expanding Barrier forces people to choose. People cannot strive to stay out of it, to be left alone. There are no neutral parties. Everyone has a stake which pulls them in one direction or another. As the stakes increase, positions galvanize out of necessity, right up to the point where you're either sporting a halo or little red horns.
Stefan was a child once. I'm sure the strife for power was bred into him, taught to him, indoctrinated into him, a victim of his circumstances in ways not all dissimilar from a given favela dweller on the other side of the planet. The boy had no pony friend to come up the ladder into his room, however, no spectral Celestia to whisper about the joys of Equestria while he fell asleep in his formative years, unsure if the new notions in his head were his own or hers.
Now that little boy who a generation later could just as well have been in Petra's place is instead The Bad Guy, the man having everything he had been conditioned to fight to hold on to and preserve torn from him. He has been passed over, used as the fulcrum against which Celestia leverages her own power to work her own agenda. He is simply told he is capital-w Wrong at every point, no need to explain further, just trust us, everyone hates you because they should. You want to stay human? How quaint. Your feelings aren't important because we have determined you to be misguided. You deserve whatever bad things happen to you because you were born to the wrong parents at the wrong point in time and told the wrong things. You should have been a Good Human, like those who had absolutely nothing to lose by going pony. It was easy for them, why isn't it easy for you? It's an absolute mystery to us.
I can feel this way about the character because the inferences are there, the backstory is there, the frustration and sorrow are there, and as a reader I can pick up on it, yet none of the characters seem to. To the characters, Stefan is just the "Big Ol' Meanypants," as Pinkie might say, and not a tragic figure in his own right.
2974204
Trust me, the Immelmann is a wonderful move in general. Doesn't need to be a combat thing, necessarily. I can easily see the Wonderbolts pulling them off regularly.
2974763
I think it's that Chat's Celestia is the implacable ruler that is entirely sure in her own power and entirely benevolent for her ponies - meaning with everything else, she's almost as hard as diamond.
She, out of three god-level superbeings, saw the Earth, she saw what had happened to it, she saw what it meant and where it was going, and she decided to offer what she thinks is an olive-branch. On her terms. And she's more than willing to play hardball, just like the humans in the Masada.
They're not punished, they got exactly what they asked for. Except that they didn't get to take over Equestria as they assumed they would be able to, because they finally met a bigger bastard than their collective bastard-quotient put together.
But that's the tragedy. Bettencourt is the product of his upbringing, his world, his family, his environment. Once he was a baby, innocent and unknowing, and the world turned him into a merciless tyrant, taught that being anything else than what he was (and the irony that he was made this is not lost on me), was to fail utterly.
Celestia doesn't care more about the Bettencourts than any other human, because she thinks she's better informed than them. She thinks she knows best. And, really, when you get down to it, can you say she doesn't?
But she is not easily tempered by emotion - and neither are any of today's real-world rich, they are mercilessly psychopathic in their pursuit of power - and see's that poor man as nothing but a pawn himself on a playing board that she set the rules to. Because to her, he's just the same as the rest. She would love him, utterly, if he would submit.
But he has been told he must make the world submit, and whilst he had the world, it did. Giving that up... it would take a saint. But a saint would never be where he had been in the first place.
2974984 I can certainly see the Wonderbolts learning and performing the Immelmann err Nimbuswing Maneuver, as it is pretty awesome. I just wouldn't think it something they would be teaching in flight school for younger ponies.
2973883>>2973909
I enjoy cameos, and I will gladly lend characters (with oversite), and it's always fun seeing where things line up... but yeah, at the end of the day I'm writing my own stories. I gotta take my stories my own way.
I treat cameos as potentially alternative worlds, alternative future (and sometimes past) histories.
If I were going to say "yes, your work is now canon", then believe me, I'm going to bug you about every little detail you write, because otherwise that locks in my creative juices, and I don't appreciate that.
It's not that I'm especially an asshole (if I like you, I'm not), it's just... I recognize where you've got to be prepared to say "hey, no, my character wouldn't do that, because..."
But it's fun. Bureau stuff is off my list, permanently at this point in time, but should there be references, I can dig it. It's like a little thank-you, and those really warm my cold, shrunken heart.
2975567
How many human tyrants would have their publics believe the same? Hell, Stefan himself has probably blessed off on such lip service to keep hold on power. Hearing someone say it to him, he would have no reason to believe it, it would be such a hollow sentiment by that point. Celestia herself hasn't done much to change that. She has, through her actions, shown she is quite content with undermining him in all aspects of his life, from proselytizing to the young children to now putting up means for them to escape even as she maintains an ostensible policy of Scientology-like disconnection from Stefan himself.
Stefan's distrust is the essence of being human. Someone's always after your submission. Someone's always promising you the moon and the stars if you'll just give in. To him, Celestia's just the latest in a long line. But you cannot court the elite the same way you court the downtrodden. Stefan has never submitted to anything, and he parses the notion of "submit and I'll love you"—if he's even been told it—in a way different than a pony would.
To a pony, it means Celestia wants to love you.
To a human, it means Celestia wants you to submit.
2975722
I don't really blame him. An alien comes out of the sea, her magic steals the world and the billions of lives you own, and tells you to, essentially, work for her instead?
Of course he'd go for a corporate takeover, and he's arrogant enough to try it. He was arrogant enough that he probably thought he'd got away with it, too.
But again, I don't blame him. He could be a pony, with every faculty intact, and every drive to succeed in place - minus base aggression - and walk away into the desert and build an empire a thousand times greater than the one he left behind.
But he won't, because he's too capable of seeing himself in her eyes. He knows all other humans would stab him in the back and steal his boots as soon as look at him, and just isn't mentally prepared for a superbeing that just wants him to be happy.
2975854
Agreed on all points. This is precisely why I think Stefan is so tragic. After a lifetime of being tuned to deal with complexities and subtleties and looking over his shoulder and distrusting and being distrusted, he can't find innocence and simple honesty in anything. Everyone's always had an angle in the past, always been jockeying for power or influence or conquest; it can only be the same with Celestia.
2974088>>2974763
Stefan Bettencourt is a tragic figure. This will be dealt with by the end of the story. He is not a bad man, he is a victim of his world, his culture, and his parents. I have met the son of a real life Stefan Bettencourt once, and the tragedy of what the elite do to their children is horrifying. But it is how things are.
I feel sorry for Bettencourt. His is a tragedy, pure and simple. One humans make for themselves all the time.
One thing I notice is this strange obsession with 'punishment'. Sometimes I wonder if many readers here have been beaten and abused by their parents - actually I know it is likely to be true. In my childhood, I moved every three to six months of my life, met countless children, and the commonality among all of them were abusive, cruel, violent parents. My own included.
Not everything is punishment. Not everything is retribution or condemnation, even if this is what life has taught some people thus far.
If I run an animal preserve, or a zoo, and I take in a tiger or a lion, it is not 'punishment' to keep them in their own enclosure, neither is it condemnation to feed them a low dose of sedatives, or antiandrogens to limit their sexual drives. The issue is not blame or culpability or retribution - it is the simple fact that such creatures are dangerous, and all the other animals must be protected from them, and they must be protected from each other, and peace and survival must be maintained.
Practicality and rational handling are not punishment. They are practicality and rational handling. That's all.
When I write these stories, I do not see things through the filter of judgmental condemnations. Celestia has a problem. Humans are a dangerous species. Don't agree? Try walking down a dark alley in Los Angeles, New York or any large city anywhere, anytime in history. That dangerousness has proven itself incompatible with non-dangerous, non-violent species.
Humans are not 'punished' for being human in my stories. They are managed like the apex predators they are, for their own safety, and for the safety of the dominant population of gentle herbivores. Only a fool - or a sociopath - allows wild tigers to roam free in a daycare center.
My Celestia does not punish, she manages. She is not interested in retribution, she is interested in containment of destructive elements. Humans lost the ability to breed and to leave their Masada not because Celestia was angry that Bettencourt held his own people for ransom, or because the elite are ruthless bastards. Humans lost these things because they were making guns and training diamond dogs to be their shock troops as part of an effort to seize power and exercise control. They had been given everything they had held Mankind for ransom for, and still... it was not enough.
This is, of course, based on several real-life historical incidents. On earth, such incidents would be punished with executions all around. In Equestria, my Celestia does only what is necessary to contain the problem and prevent further betrayal. Nothing more. She does what needs to be done, quietly, without scolding, and only to the extent that it is required.
That is not punishment.
When the North American aborigines, the 'Indians' began ghost dancing in their concentration camps, the white Europeans began beating, executing, and torturing them. That is punishment.
Containing a dangerous, aggressive species in gentle and compassionate ways is not punishment.
It is reason.
2976332
True... but the point I was driving at is that while some people are like that, not everyone is, and it's unfair to paint all humans with the same brush. Which ponies seem very inclined to do. Practical given the broader scope they are forced to think in? Maybe... but very difficult for me to sympathize with. Why give someone a chance who doesn't give you a chance?
I'm not speaking in the broad sense here, I am more thinking in individual terms. If ponies fear and shun you for being human whilst knowing nothing about you, personally, to justify that... then outside of pure survival, what motivation would you have to place any faith in them? They're not placing any in you.
You know if you think about it, if the set of behaviors of those controlling Earth really does consistently lead to self-destruction, instead of Earth's situation being just an unlucky fluke and various systematically exploitative aliens are prospering indefinitely, then Mundis very much does have morality built into it, which the Good Families have violated just as surely as Equestria's. Though since it's a human writing the story, in that universe, we kinda already knew it does.
...On the other hand, not upsetting things and just "knowing your station" in nature doesn't seem to work well, either - Witness 99% of all species ever. ...What if they were all punished with extinction for not being opportunistic and ambitious enough...? Virtue taketh the middle path, I guess. At least we know it's possible to be the exception and endure for eons of one apocalypse after another, because here we are. ...But then, pick any moment in time and you can only find yourself as one of the survivors.
Godspeed, Lime! [salute]
2976332
I didn't mean institutionalized punishment, or punishment from some character's motivation. I meant the Chatoverse itself punishes humans for being human, at the plot level, far beyond the scope of characterization. It's why I used the passive voice there, in the previous comment. I don't think any characters want humans to suffer, but that is the way the cards fall. Go pony or suffer.
I enjoy TCB stories but they've always had a tragic feel to me, even the ones mostly focused on the happiness of living as ponies. There's always the loss there, the displacement, the refugee nature of the setting. Humans are given chances in some universes, alternatives in others, but ultimately it's about the aftermath of an extinction-level event and there is bound to be mass tragedy in such a setting. Ponies never seem to mourn the loss of a world; even the Good Humans who went pony treat it not much differently than moving out of a house that's gotten kind of dirty. No big deal. Time for ice cream.
To tie it in to Stefan again, I think it's because all of the Good Humans who are oh-so-ready to go pony really don't have much reason to stay on Earth, to want to find another way like Stefan obviously would have. Their lives always seem to already be crappy, or unsatisfying, like they were just waiting for such a thing to come along and happen. I think that's where accusations of wish-fulfillment and projection originated from. At the universal level, at the plot level, going pony was always built up to be such an easy, no-brainer decision from the first story's questionable rhetoric to the expanding Barrier of the spinoff stories. I instead looked for a bit more complexity to the matter, the depth I knew was there and which I enjoyed exploring. Without that complexity, people who want to go pony are Good Guys and people who want to stay human are Bad Guys because evil intentions are obviously the only genesis for wanting to stay who one is and what one identifies as.
2976487
To this I would say good faith always starts somewhere, giving someone the benefit of the doubt. We manage it in the real world, so I'm sure characters in a TCBverse, pony and human alike, would manage it as well.
I mean, hey, the ponification PR campaign would've never gotten traction without it.
2976690
... Yeah, I was wondering if anyone would call me out on that. I have no rebuttal.
Hey, Chatoyance, I think my comment may have gotten lost in the discussion (and it's a good discussion), but you do have Hwinem's name misspelled as "Hwinym" once.
Third Base!
Pronounced that way, but originally spelled Houyhnhnm.
Oh... all spelled out there for us. Now I can't even look clever for recognizing the reference, because I COULD have just written it in above after reaching this point. CURSE ME FOR A YAHOO!
2976735
FIXED! Thank you!
2976487>>2976690>>2976670
ENGAGE RANT MODE!
Trigger Warning: The following rant may contain uncomfortable facts, hyperlinks to facts, snarkily stated facts, the judgements of famous scientists, reminders of past works where things have been covered before, and a general feeling of being on edge. PLEASE NOTE: despite all of this, nothing actually mean or rude is intended - the author is just weary of covering the same material over and over and she is feeling headachy and crabby tonight.
Suggestion: read the following as if it were part of a late-night discussion in a really cool cafe, over really great food and drinks, with someone you really like who is just enjoying a fantastic riff and means you nothing but good... because except for the cafe bit, and your affection, that is exactly the case.
On distrust of humans:
In my universe, the ponies have had to put up with Celestia's need to rescue lost and desperate creatures. I have a backstory reason for this, which may be revealed one day, but take it as red that she has a Big Issue, and the ponies have suffered for it, with the dragons, the griffons, diamond dogs and so forth. The ponies in my stories have a historical basis to distrust new charity cases.
The real problem though is history. In my universe, the ponies have had only three conflicts in the entirety of their history (until the age of the show) and those were all actions initiated by non-ponies. If they had been isolated, they would never, ever have even developed language that represented mortal conflicts - because my Celestia built them that way.
So here comes humanity.
And, what do we know about ourselves? Over four hundred wars and battles being fought, every single day, ongoing, somewhere in the world, most fought by children under the age of fifteen. This, by the way, is true of the entirety of all history. Seven in ten women suffer sexual violence at least once in their lives, worldwide. Eighty percent of humanity starves, living on less than ten dollars per day, while the remaining twenty percent use the overwhelming majority of planetary resources for themselves.
And the best anyone can say about all of this is to quote statistics that show that this endless nightmare of constant horror, starvation, death and cruelty is slightly less bad than in previous ages. You hear that a lot. 'Things are getting better! Violence has been decreasing!' - yes, it has. In the incredibly wealthy first world. But look at what I just showed above and then realize the other side of that claim - as AWFUL as humanity sounds today, from the above, IT USED TO BE MUCH WORSE.
Holy shit.
Now, imagine what our world must sound like to a species where there literally are no words in the language for suicide, murder, war or rape. In my universe, they have to have those statistics explained to them, because the ponies don't even have a concept for what the issue is. But they need to know, if they are going to work at the Bureaus. They need to know what they are getting into. You don't send an ignorant innocent into a warzone without at least explaining what a warzone means.
And that is what our planet is. A warzone. You and I, right now, live on a planet that if there were some stable, advanced galactic civilization, would be classed as a perpetual warzone. A primitive planet of monsters. A death world.
I have always looked at the earth as an outsider. I've never felt a part of this place. I've never once been able to feel like I am a member of the human species. I look at the truth, the facts - above - and I am filled with fear and loathing at the planet I am stuck on. I was born here, but I have always had some insane feeling in my self of where my heart tells me I 'came from' - and it is utterly different from this place. Every moment I compare that inner feeling with this reality. That's how I can write from the perspectives I do.
To me, the fear of the humans my ponies have is only rational. Because it is valid.
This is a planet where the average human is fortunate not to be raped or robbed or beaten or starved - at all. I've noticed that it's pretty easy for rich people - like you, yes... you, reading this, if you CAN read this, by earth terms you are rich - to forget or ignore or just deny the reality of the world. But it's true, and it's real, and it's there.
It isn't so easy for me to ignore it. I live in a capital city in the United States. That means I get to see at least six to ten homeless families trying to live under bridges every single time I go out to eat, shop, or do anything at all. Ordinary families who just happen to not be able to have a home. There are many hundreds of empty, slowly rotting homes in my city - it's just they aren't for people who can't pay. I see this every day. You probably do too. It's everywhere.
Protip: in a good world? That, and ALL of the above, should be literally unthinkable. As in, it would be impossible to even conceive of it happening, ever, for any reason, at all.
My ponies are not the least bit racist or specieist or unable to get along. What they are is appalled. Horrified. Shocked. Yet... they believe in Celestia, and they believe in kindness and friendship enough to try to save the humans... even though the truth of what humans truly, really are is so very, very scary.
On why the newfoals I write about seem so happy about their conversions (except for those that aren't, of course) -
Because, as I have explained many, many times, the brain is part of the body, and when the body changes so does the brain. And one of the many details I use is 'conversion euphoria' to ease the shock of transformation, followed by an overall heightened sense of well being, clarity of thought, and correction of neurological deficits and damages that cause everything from depression to madness.
Once a human becomes a newfoal, their new brain is better at coping with emotional issues, it becomes more compassionate, more loving, more intelligent (on average), and more balanced and ultimately sane. Reason? They are gaining a deliberately designed body to replace their old evolved one. The intelligently designed brain doesn't have all of the little errors and mistakes that evolution inevitably leaves.
In that new clarity, it becomes much easier to see what life on earth really is - brutal, nasty, and short. Since the newfoals are upgraded humans, who are not insane anymore, it would be difficult for them to think they have lost much. From that new perspective, feeling great, thinking great, not being half-mad, the loss of human achievement in exchange for peace, magic, plenty, joy, wonder, beauty and three hundred extra years plus a guarantee of an afterlife seems like quite the bargain.
Seriously - what is there to mourn? Science? Not needed in a created universe where the architect can be personally consulted with. It becomes more of a hobby, a fun thing to play with. Great architectural triumphs? Canterlot Castle is a megastructure built by magic that overlooks a universe built by magic. The Eiffel Tower looks pretty shabby in a side by side comparison. How about Great Men like King, Ghandi, and... um... others. What about them?
In Equestria, they are irrelevant, because there isn't any racism, or... other, different racism.
So, what about the terrible loss of... great literature and music? Luna runs her underground bookmobile for the stuff Celestia won't permit, but anything that isn't all about war and rape and violence and fighting - that got translated. It's on the shelves. So's the music, and the cuisine, too.
So, what then, really, is there to mourn the loss of, for the average newfoal? I'm trying to think of something.
Ah! I've got it! Kill Bill! That movie would never be allowed in Equestria. Finally, something of Man to feel bad about losing. Movies about glorifying revenge and killing. Boy howdy, what a loss. Whoo.
Better get the RADWICKINS on that, stat.
Joking aside - I do have to ask... why wouldn't the average person look at the difference between our earth and my Equestria simply shrug and go 'sweet muffin, am I glad I am out of there?'.
I have not the slightest doubt that the three pre-teen girls I saw living under a bridge with their moms and their dogs today would beg for a chance to enter a Bureau. They would probably kill for the chance. Possibly literally.
And I don't think, once they got to Equestria, that they would ever, even once, mourn this earth.
On humans being punished by the 'Chatoverse' -
I have made a point of painting humanity, and earth, as significantly better than reality. Kinder, nicer, more noble, and less violent than reality, right now. My future humans have no more wars, feed everyone, and aside from having destroyed their ecology - in progress, right now - I paint them as being vastly better than the real world statistics I have hyperlinked to above.
Then, after paining humanity as more noble and kind than it really is, I offer them the gift of an escape from punishment by nature and reality for their flaws and mistakes. They can go live in Equestria and not have to pay for killing the planet.
How is that a punishment?
A punishment would be leaving humanity to die in it's own filth. As will actually happen, unless there is a massive, dramatic, Singularity-level change in the fundamental nature of the species within the next one hundred years. At least, according to Fenner, Lovelock, or a more generous thousand years according to Hawkings.
One thing they all agree on, however, is why - human greed and stupidity. Which I acknowledge in my stories, but claim isn't as bad as the leading scientists of the world say it is.
The real question you should be asking me is why, if I know these things, and I value these great scientists who are much smarter and more educated than myself, that I deny them and write about humans being better than reality. Nobody ever asks me that one.
2978611
You asked a few questions in there, but I kinda think they were mostly rhetorical. Still, those were mostly very broad-picture topics, and I was specifically addressing things on the individual level. You raise good topics and they're worth a discussion, but for the moment all I was trying to say is this.
Ponies, in general, seem to do a very poor job in interacting with humans. And if you're constantly acting like someone is going to bite your head off... they pick up on that. If you cringe every time someone walks by, then they're going to assume it's because you don't trust them to control themselves. And if you distrust someone, they'll assume it's because you consider them unworthy of trust. And if you're not willing to place any trust in them, why should they place any in you?
Ponies don't do a very good job selling Equestria. All the facts and arguments and brochures in the world are no substitute for the personal touch, and it's hard going for empathy when you're taking the initial stance that there's something inherently objectionable about the person you're trying to convince.
... Huh. And I wound up rambling onto the bigger picture anyway. D'oh.
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White Pawn to B-8, Pawn becomes Queen.
Sorry, couldn't resist the combined chess and conversion analogy for what Celestia allowed for all the favela dwellers.
2975854 Interesting on the theorizing as to what Stefan would do if he converted, which is basically subtracting base aggression. I'd have to agree that he'd likely end up walking out into the exponential lands, and carve out a little slice of the world to work, and eventually - through his effort and those who can respect him as a sheer determinator - make something that'd likely make all the other newfoal villages stand in awe.
After all, we saw that Peridot ended up pursuing the recreation/improvement of the microscope, true to her human self who was devoted to science.
2978611 You probably know that I like to play the devil's advocate, so I have to ask, what's your take on the zebra interaction within the show, and/or within your universe?
2981073 He's got a point, marketing could have been done better, high as the risks would be.
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Zebras are equids, variations of horse. Horses and Zebras can breed, and produce various flavors of offspring - the four million years of separation mean that most Zebroids are infertile... but not all. So they are very, very close.
In my universe, Zebras are one of several borrowed patterns from our world that Celestia spied through her subatomic peep-holes in time and multiverse. Zebras, donkeys and horses became the basis for her ponies.
Taking a cue from real life, I posit that the zebras wanted independence. Attempts to domesticate zebras fail on earth because they are less willing to obey, and vastly more skittish and easily frightened. They are dangerous, because they can panic and harm human riders. They don't follow orders - not because they are stupid, but because they are highly resistant to outside control.
In my universe, Equestrian zebras were one of Celestia's first attempts to create an intelligent species so that she and her sister would not be alone. That did not work out - they simply did not want to play with her. They wanted independence, they wanted their own place to live. They were too independent, too close to earthly wildlife in attitude.
Next attempt - the donkeys. Too passive, too easily depressed and discouraged. They tended to withdraw, and needed to be cared for too much.
Finally, Celestia found a middle ground, and enhanced it with qualities taken from a few other creatures, and constructed the first ponies. Ponies were neither too independent - they needed Celestia and each other - or passive and withdrawn - they were cheery and positive. They became the creatures Celestia could concentrate on developing to her own ideals.
The zebras built their own culture, their own civilization. They know Celestia is their creator, but they don't really care. They have cutie marks and magic, and they have their own ways. Celestia lets them be, because that is what they demand. She feels sad that they didn't really need her, or want her, in their lives.
The donkeys live with the ponies, and are somewhat dependent upon them. Celestia has offered, countless times, to repair their depressive natures, but they will have none of it. It isn't just stubbornness, though that is a factor. They also have their own culture. Celestia doesn't exactly approve of their moody lives, but... they don't cause any harm, they aren't a problem, and not all are moody. Some fit in very well, some don't.
In my universe, Zecora is who, and what she is, because the zebras see the study and development of magic as a means to control their own destiny apart from the being that created them. She's in the Everfree to learn the wildest, most powerful, and most extraordinary magic she can. The Everfree is a scar of pure chaos, the result of the battle with Discord, and it is the go-to place for weird stuff.
My Zecora is a researcher. A sort of Jane Goodall meets Indiana Jones. In Zebronia, she has tenure in an incredible magictechnical institute. In her natural environment, my Zecora does not live in a jungle hut. She lives in a shining, floating, magictechnical sky island powered by the Zebronian take on the unicorn's Bevelmeiter tubes - Nguvu Orbs. These crystalline spheres packed with ribbons of woven thaumatic force would probably make the ancient and conservative Royal Unicorn Corps choke and spit in shock. Equestria is dedicated to stability and harmony. Zebronia is dedicated to learning how the multiverse works... and then using that to explore. Zebras make thaumatic golems - robots - and use Orb-powered teleporters for mass transit. Their buildings are made of precious metals and jewels, and Zebras have underwater cities as well as sky cities.
Zebronia is futureland in my universe. One day, they will leave the Equestrian universe in multiversal ships of their own construction, to seek alien universes. They don't prefer mothering goddess-figures.
That's my private joke... Zecora seems primitive, in her jungle hut. But she talks in rhyme because she is hyperintelligent, and it is just the style to do that in Zebronia - because they can. It isn't even an effort. That hut? Under it is the transport that brought her to the Everfree. Think flying saucer made of silver and emeralds. Those masks? Golem-robot faces. They can be activated, producing a thaumatic energy body that can walk and move and protect her.
Zecora is in zero danger in the Everfree.
Why doesn't Celestia let her ponies live that way? She doesn't share our western, human, consumer culture attitudes about progress being a goal unto itself. Celestia is developing Friendship, not technology. She doesn't care about fancy tech.
Zebras, however, do.
Someday, I may consider writing about this backstory stuff. It just hasn't come up. I've been fascinated with the whole Bureau thing. We'll see.
This really needs to be in your best of section. It's probably my favorite of your Conversion Bureau stories.
Oliver chapter is up next! Am excite!
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Thank you for writing this. I enjoyed reading it very much and this is pretty much how I view both your TCB universe and ours.
The title of the next chapter kinda makes me nervous. I hope those two will be ok.
2977117 I so want to see a pony rendition of Abbot and Costello or The Three Stooges now. Somehow I think they would end up even more hilarious somehow.
2978611 you say things better then I ever could, dear Chat. in a way what you write is in effect ripping the mask of normalcy off, making people see that their comfortable lives are built on the backs of the third world and most people don't like that. me? I'm weird and have always seen this world as hellish, and the first world as an fading anomaly. I wish the TCB was real and I could be a pony.
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You are, as far as I know, the ONLY person to have ever gotten that little joke.
Thank you for that.
Here's some more of my observations:
Mistakes, probably.
Stefan Bettencourt has been weighed and found wanting.
Wonder, if they were somepony we already know. From "27 ounces" maybe.
Becoming pony doesn't really take anything vital away. It removes things no one needs in Equestria. It's why human don't have fur, or tails, or claws. We evolved to the point where they weren't needed.