3. A Death In The Masada
The Conversion Bureau
HUMAN
in Equestria
By Chatoyance
3. A Death In The Masada
Warren Rensselaer was in a hurry. Stefan was in a tizzy about something or another and had called a big meeting at the Muleskinner. The country club was the usual place that the men of the Human Masada ended up at during the day, but Stefan had reserved the great hall and that was truly unusual. Even with the earth gone, even with the materiality of their empires vanished forever, the hierarchy of the Good Families remained. Bettencourt was the top dog of the pack when the earth finally fell, and he was still the top dog even here, in exile.
Warren's morning had been a struggle. He had slept in, which he normally never did. When he had turned seventy, despite taking the best anagathics available, he had begun to start waking early and going to bed early. Warren had always been a night person, but he had suddenly developed the sleeping patterns of the elderly. It had greatly annoyed him - weren't all those fancy nanotech anti-aging treatments supposed to, well, slow down aging?
There wasn't any nanotech in this twisted horse world. Warren wasn't about to let some mule of a unicorn play witch doctor on him, no matter what that pony princess said. The fact was, though, that since the Good Families had moved to the new world, Warren had been feeling his age once more. A lot of the older members felt the same.
All of this aging nonsense was nothing a little determination and effort couldn't cure though. Warren had risen late, but he had attended to all of his morning requirements. He had eaten properly, done a proper job in the outhouse, and then performed his personal routine of exercises.
Warren had developed them himself. The quacks back on old dead earth wanted him to act like he had both feet in the grave. To take things easy. That was the surest way to end up feeble! Warren began his day with sit-ups and finished the morning routine with push ups. Vigorous push ups, dammit, like a man should do.
He would get another double-strength coffee at the Club. Sip it while listening to whatever Bettencourt had come up with. At least they had coffee in this godforsaken...
Something had hit Warren Rensselaer in the face. He tried to understand what had happened. As far as he could tell, he had walked into a wall. Dammit. He hadn't been paying attention. That was unforgivable, a successful man always pays attention to everything.
Wait. That was no wall. It was the ground. Warren tried to get up, but he couldn't. There was a rushing sound, like a waterfall in his ears. It kept getting louder and louder. He could hear the pounding of his heart over the hiss, but it wasn't regular. The beat was random, it made no sense.
Dammit, that cursed Celestia had fallen down on the job. She'd let the sun fall down. It was all dark. Whoever let a god-damn pon
"That is not good enough!" Nikolai Astor jabbed a finger at the gigantic figure. "We know how long your ponies live! Three hundred years! Are you serious?"
Celestia, princess of Equestria, Diarch of the Sun, sat on a padded, golden plinth. Whatever Stefan Bettencourt had intended for his meeting had been entirely forgotten in the outrage that had seized the men of the Good Families. They had summoned Celestia, according to Section II, Paragraph IV of the Covenant, and as expected, she had shown up. Exactly on time, of course. The equinoid princess was, if anything, an absolute beast for Law.
Nikolai waited, tapping his foot. The immense white creature sighed.
"Mr. Astor, when the details of the Covenant between the Diarchy of Equestria and the ruling Families of Earth were drawn, the single greatest stipulation made was that the members of the Good Families should 'in every way and in every respect, excepting those requirements specifically stipulated within Appendix B, be kept completely and fully human, which is defined as being a member of the species Homo sapiens sapiens of the planet Earth as known in the present age and time of this contract, and in no way be altered, changed, manipulated or transformed beyond what is minimally necessary for healthful and robust survival within the demesne of Equestria.'
"Warren Rensselaer is dead! I saw him drop stone cold dead right outside of his own home! I turned his corpse over so he wouldn't be laying with his face in the dirt!" Nikolai's face was red, and his eyes strained wide.
"Yes? I do not understand the point you are trying to make." The eternal princess spoke in a calm, relaxed voice. "Perhaps if you specified your concern exactly..."
"He's DEAD!" Astor nearly shouted the word. Why couldn't this alien slab of meat grasp the obvious?
"I think what Nikolai is trying to say is that it is very troubling that one of us has expired of something as mundane as heart failure within a universe of magic where the average pony..." Cornelius Weyerhauser said the word as if he were describing an entry from the Bristol Stool Scale "...lives three times as long, and some..." Cornelius glared at the princess "...much longer than that. It hardly seems fair."
The men in the room, nearly a hundred altogether, grumbled assent. Princess Celestia sat quietly, patiently waiting for the ripple to pass by. "I am sorry for your loss, I truly am." One of the Equestrian Royal Guards briefly interrupted the princess, whispering something to her, then standing back. "But the fact is that the human called Warren Rensselaer lived, and died, as the human he insisted he remain. I have met the precise terms of the Covenant in exacting detail, terms which you yourselves participated in creating, and which all of you agreed to."
"Celestia!" Alberto Fontbona stepped forward, briefly raising his hand to be recognized. "Princess." Alberto affected an amiable smile. "Your great power rebuilt us piece by piece into men who could live within your realm! The sheer magnitude of such a thing, to recast a living man into magical matter! Some would call you a god!"
The princess did not look pleased. "I am, and remain always, your princess. I have chosen my title with great care. I would be called nothing more." The royal eyes fixed Fontbona firmly. "And nothing less."
"Of course, my princess." Alberto Fontbona bowed grandly. "But surely it would be simple enough for one such as you to bring Warren back from wherever it is that he has gone?" Alberto smiled once more. Other men in the room nodded at him, catching on to where he was going. "Perhaps... perhaps we could come to a new arrangement, one where..."
"Warren has gone nowhere. His body is in the back room where you have laid it. It would indeed be a simple matter to repair the damage to his body, restart the machinery of it, and have him awaken." The princess was calm, as always, but there was a faint coldness in her eyes. "That said, shortly after he would die again, and would once more if the act were repeated. Quite simply, he has reached the end of his time. To extend his lifespan further in any meaningful way would require altering the cellular mechanism by which his flesh operates. He would no longer be human as specified clearly by the Covenant. I am bound by the Covenant, and so what you are clearly trying to suggest..." The princess of the sun looked levelly at the men in the room "...would be a complete breach of our agreement."
This was not a bit what any man in the Muleskinner Club wanted to hear, and the faint rumble of their anger rippled again through the room.
"Now, I am sorry, but I must leave. Other matters press upon me. I have honored your summons, and now I must depart." The princess rose from her cushion, and prepared to exit, her honor guard attending to her golden seat.
"WAIT!" it was Nikolai again. "Warren... Warren is in your... pony heaven now, right? He isn't just gone, he's in your... afterlife or whatever it is, correct?" He seemed desperate, almost pleading.
Once more the princess sighed. The sigh seemed slightly sad. "Mister Rensselaer lived, and died, completely as a human, exactly as agreed in..."
"But you changed us!" Nikolai was almost in tears now, which made several of the other men uncomfortable. "You personally converted each and every one of us into Equestrian matter, you personally remade us into magical matter so we could live as humans, so we wouldn't have to be ponies! That was the deal! We're made out of the same stuff ponies are made out of now, that's why we can live here!"
Celestia did look sad. Every man could see it now. "Correct, Nickolai Valeri Astor. Each and every member of the ruling families of earth are now made of Equestrian matter. I was very careful when I reconstructed every single last one of you. You are all exactly as you were when you were made of atoms instead of dweons. Other than being built of the native materials of my domain, and the minor, contractually approved alteration of your capacity for violence as outlined in Appendix B, you are completely and utterly human. You have not been changed in any regard beyond the exact terms of the Covenant."
Nikolai fell to his knees on the wood floor, his face blank, the look in his eyes that of a man lost and beyond hope.
"I am very sorry for your loss." The princess finally was able to turn to leave. Just before she passed through the large doors to the Muleskinner, she looked back over her flank. "I hold to every part of the Covenant exactly. Please keep Section VI in mind." And with that the Diarch of the Sun was gone.
She could not be mandatorily summoned again, under the rules of the Covenant, for one full year.
"Section... six." Nikolai breathed out the words with the last air in his lungs before breathing in again.
"He just... died. Didn't he?" Forrest Arnault stepped his ponderous bulk backward, as if retreating from his own thoughts. "Just... dead. Like on earth. Gone. Just... gone."
"Section six." Nikolai stood up, his knees stiff. "Remedial transformation into Equestrian form."
"Potion won't work here. She has to do it by hand, like she fixed us originally to live here." Alberto smoothed his balding pate. "Ponification."
"By 'hoof'." Nikolai smoothed his pants to get the folds out. "Not by hand. By hoof. That's what they say."
"What the hell is wrong with all of you?" Only now had Stefan Bettencourt chosen to speak. "Rensselaer died no differently than every man who ever walked the earth! The earth is gone, but he still died a man. The lot of you are turning as soft and useless as those fluffy ponies out there! Man up! We are the chosen of Earth!" Bettencourt walked to where Celestia had sat, and stood, trying to become the new center of attention. "That is why I asked you here in the first place. Rensselaer's death just underscores the real issue, which is that we have lost the capacity to reproduce!"
Stefan's words fell on deaf ears. Every man, every former master of industry of the vanished earth was now lost in grief for themselves. Some stood silent, absorbed in thought or emotion, a very few openly wept.
"That is what she meant. I never bothered with such things as magical souls when I lived on earth. The idea was ridiculous, a mere pablum for the masses." Nikolai wiped his brow. He found that it was cold and damp. He spoke slowly, as if in a daze. "But then... even after Celestia showed us the truth... I still... my god... death is still death for us! That is what she actually meant when she said we are still utterly human..."
Stefan Bettencourt frowned. It didn't seem likely that anyone would listen to him about the impossibility of new births.
Petra used the noise of the loud discussion that had broken out to escape the closet where she had been hiding. The Muleskinner was strictly off limits to children and women - except on Celestdays, when the men could bring their wives for dinner. Petra absolutely did not want to be caught. But the Muleskinner had the best larder in the entire Human Masada, and it always got first pick of the deliveries through the gates.
It was often hot on the far side of Canterlot mountain. The reason was the banana plantation that was Plantain and Crème's home. The Pegasai kept the entire region in perpetual summer. There was never a fall, and never a winter. They made it rain, of course, but even the rain was warm. Mother had said it was like living in the tropics back on earth.
As lunchtime approached, Petra had wanted very much to offer her new friends - her very first friends, if the truth be told - something special to eat. Plantain had told her of the sorts of things that she ate at meals, and Petra had found herself envious of them. Equestrians ate hay and grass and grains and vegetables, of course, but they could also eat any amount of sweets without harm. They could enjoy cakes and pies and even candy all day long and never become ill as humans did. Some ponies did just that, in fact, for every day of their long, long lives.
The Muleskinner always had the most wonderful desserts. Mother would sometimes bring back a portion of her Celestday meal with Father at the club to share with Petra. From what Mother had said, there were shelves and shelves of the most delicious things just sitting there at the Club. They would never even notice if some were taken for a good cause.
The arrival of Plantain and her little bunny had made Petra feel like something inside of her was tearing, or ripping apart. She felt full of feelings that her skin could no longer hold in. Already she had done the most dreadful things - she had let a pony into her room. She had tried to keep the pony - and the little bunny - entirely a secret from both Mother and Father, and it had actually worked! There were no cameras in Equestria, no spy eyes and no agents of her father standing in the shadows. For the first time in her existence, Petra understood that she truly had a life - a life all of her very own.
She had never dared to go against her parents before. It had been an impossibility, actually. But here, in Equestria, the impossible was now possible. Petra felt fear, and worry, and also a thrill unlike anything she had ever known. It almost made her giddy to realize that what she did was not being observed or monitored or watched. It was difficult to accept. She found herself constantly looking for the little lenses or the tiny black dots she had come to accept as an omnipresent feature of her world. There were no overly-ordinary men and women always nearby, changing shifts.
It had finally dawned on Petra Bettencourt that for the first time in her whole life, she had been living entirely as a single person, her own person, and not as the daughter of Stefan Albrecht Bettencourt, CEO of the world.
She had nearly turned back three times on the way to the Muleskinner. She had been certain that there had been an agent behind a tree. But when she went to look, there was only bushes and bark. It was almost beyond belief. For the first time ever, Petra knew she was actually... free.
There, standing behind the tree, Petra had seen the man jog out of his back door and round the edge of his cottage. It wasn't a large mansion, so the man couldn't have been one of the inner circle. He was likely one of the lower heads of the Good Families. Even among their small community, there were smaller communities within it, all based on the influence and importance that the members had held back when they had lived on earth.
The man jogged around to the other side of his home and then just... fell down. The man fell and he didn't move and he didn't get up.
Petra was about to run to him, and ask him why he was doing such a strange thing when several other adults ran to the man on the ground and began fussing with him. One turned the man over, onto his back. Others began checking his neck and wrists and listening to his chest. Another adult began taking deep breaths and kissing the man over and over. Finally they all stopped the things they were doing and stood around staring at the man on the ground.
By then, more adults had arrived, and they picked up the man who had fallen down and they carried him away. When this happened, Petra was able to escape from behind the tree and make for the Muleskinner Club. As she moved across the compound, she saw that the adults were also going to the Muleskinner. They were taking the fallen man there.
This turned out to be a great spot of luck. The adults were so busy with the man who fell down, that the side, kitchen entrance was entirely empty of people, and the kitchen itself was also empty. Most of the large building was empty, every adult having gone to see the man who fell down.
In the kitchen, Petra found a very nice empty sack. It had once been filled with rice, soon it would be filled with delicious treats for Plantain and Crème.
Petra discovered a lovely German chocolate cake roll that was not the least bit messy and which could be easily put into her sack. "Oh, I wish I had a tiny black mask! I have become so terribly naughty of late. Now I have turned to burglary!" Stuffing that cake roll into a discarded rice sack was easily the most thrilling and dangerous thing which Petra had ever experienced. Several times she could not help but scan the wooden walls and ceiling for hidden sensors or artificially intelligent tracking insects. Not a single metallic spider could be seen.
When she found the stack of pumpkin-nut muffins and began stuffing them into her bag, she began to worry that her heart would explode from her chest. Petra had to sit down for a moment, just to regain her wits. For most of her thirteen years, she had lived under the constant awareness that her every action and behavior was under neverending scrutiny. She had been tracked and watched and guarded, and nothing she could ever do was for an instant her own. Every detail of her life was available for the review of her parents however private. All of this scrutiny was to both protect her from harm, and to mold her into a proper heir to the Bettencourt dynasty.
As Petra sat trying to calm herself, she began to listen to the voices coming clearly through the wall. The adults in the main hall, which connected with the kitchens for large dinner parties, were becoming agitated.
Suddenly, Petra heard the most dear and precious voice she had ever heard in her life. The princess was in the great hall. Princess Celestia was near!
Petra was halfway to the door by the time she managed to grab the edge of the island counter. Momentarily she felt her own body struggling against itself as her legs continued to try to dash into the hall, held in check only because of her firm grip. The desire to run to the princess, her princess, was overwhelming.
For six months, the princess had been her constant companion, as she had been to every member of the Good Families, old or young. For six months, the princess had sung to her, told her stories, laughed with her, played with her. The princess had been more than a friend, more than a mere nanny, despite what Petra had said to Plantain.
For six months, for the only time in her whole life, Petra had felt genuinely loved.
When the adults had relented, when they had seen enough of what the real world actually was, when the Good Families had agreed to the Covenant Between Earth and Equestria that had allowed the Conversion Bureaus to be built to save all the doomed peasants of the world, Celestia had left. Even though the princess had been utterly gentle and as kind as she could be about the matter, her leaving had been the most terrible and traumatic day of Petra's life.
After the months of care, after the force feedings and the constant barrage of psychiatrists and treatments, after countless relapses over the course of a year, Petra gradually had become able to function again. She returned to her constantly monitored conditioning to become a proper Bettencourt. She learned her lessons and spoke properly and echoed the proper beliefs and sentiments that were expected of her.
Her one relief, the one thing that had allowed this return to functionality, had been her show. That was the reason Father had allowed it at all. She had seen it in the hospital, after she had collapsed. She was in the middle of being force fed through a tube after a relapse, and was staring blankly at the holoscreen when the first episode of 'Going Pony' came on.
The program was a real-life propaganda piece arranged by branch of the Worldgovernment to sell ponification to the public. The adventures of a young twoper girl as she was processed within the first Conversion Bureau utterly captured Petra's imagination. Sunshine Laughter - the girl had already picked out a pony name for herself - and later, Rose Vale, the newfoal companion Sunshine had met in the Bureau, became the closest thing to best friends Petra had ever had. Every time she slipped a romball into the player, her friends were there with her, living a life that Petra could only dream of.
Over and over she watched every episode of 'Going Pony'. She laughed every time that Sunshine became frantic wondering whether or not she had been called to the ponification room. She sighed every time when Sunshine and Rose first admitted their love. She had memorized the names of every single member of the little breakfast club that formed once Sunshine had finally become a pony. For Petra, her holoprogram had become her real life, the thing that made getting through the awful days of being a proper Bettencourt possible at all.
When the time came to move to Equestria with all the other Good Families, Petra had exploded with joy!
It was then that she was harshly disabused of her constant fantasy, her only wish. They had told her before, but she had been unable to accept it. Father finally made it brutally clear.
Not a single one of the Good Families would be ponified. That was for the rabble, the peasants, the lessers of the world. The truly important people, the real human race, they would be personally attended to by the princesses. Every member of the three-hundred true families would undergo direct reconstruction into Equestrian matter. The process was time consuming even for the princesses, but in the end, when the billions of the earth's wretched were mere ponies, the elite would remain true humans.
Petra had been given to princess Luna to be reconstructed. She had demanded to see Celestia, and had thrown quite a fit. Then, disheveled and sodden with tears, Petra had finally sunk to her knees and begged, with hands held as if in prayer, to be turned into a pony instead.
Father had hit her then, across the face, the only time he had ever done so in public. The princess of the night had been shocked, but she was constrained by her duty. Petra became cold and numb, after that. She stood quiet and empty as the dark princess replaced every speck of her earth body with particles of Equestrian matter. For an hour she stood thus, feeling utterly devoid of all hope. She hardly even noticed when the princess announced her to be complete, and she said nothing as she was led away.
The last thing she could recall of her reconstruction was her father yelling at the princess, but she couldn't remember why.
Celestia was just outside the kitchen door.
Petra gradually regained herself, and her legs stopped trying to run of their own accord. It was pointless. What could she hope to accomplish if she ran into the main hall? Celestia wouldn't see her back then, when it mattered, and now it was too late. She was human. She could never be a pony, Father had explained it very, very clearly. The serum would not work on anyone already made of Equestrian matter. The earth was gone, and so the Bureaus were gone, and in any case Petra could drink an ocean of potion and it would do nothing at all.
Alone of all of the people of the old world, the Good Families remained - and would always be - human.
Petra sighed. It was too late for tears now.
But, it was still wonderful to hear the voice of the princess. Petra listened to the dulcet tones of her beloved princess, remembering those precious six months, remembering her romball collection of 'Going Pony', remembering...
Two men were talking now. One sounded thin and weedy, the other deep and growly. Apparently the man who had fallen down had... died. Petra had never seen anyone die before. It was so very odd. The man had just fallen down, nothing more.
The two men sounded strange. They were upset, but not in any way that seemed connected to the poor man who had fallen down. The two men were concerned for themselves.
Petra crept closer to the wall, so she could hear what they were saying.
"Section six." There was the sound of scuffling feet, then the weedy sounding man spoke again. "Remedial transformation into Equestrian form."
"Potion won't work here. She has to do it by hand, like she fixed us originally to live here." There was a pause before the grumbly man continued. "Ponification."
Tears came to Petra's eyes, but she slapped her own face and they stopped.
While the conversations continued in the hall, Petra began methodically stuffing her sack as fast as she could. Not just cakes and pies, but vegetables and bread and fruit and cheese, too. There were jugs of cider here, she determined that she could carry one with her, in addition to the now very full sack.
Petra went immediately and quietly to the door from which she had entered the kitchen and carefully peeked outside to make sure no one was around.
Oh, but the arrival of the pony Plantain and the little bunny Crème had made her so very naughty. But Father and Mother had been much more naughty than she could ever be. They had been more than merely naughty. They had lied.
Petra carefully opened the door, and left the Muleskinner Club.
When the tears had hit, after the two men had spoken, in that moment when she had slapped her own face, she had remembered why Father had yelled at princess Luna. She had pushed it all way far down, deep inside her mind, because Father and Mother would have no more said about it. Petra remembered Luna's words, the words that had driven her father to shouts.
"Cease thy tears, little one! Hark, for what hath been done here today need not remain forever! Return hither when thou dost come of age, and if thou desireth it still, a pony we shall gladly make of thee!"
Petra imagined that Father would, in his values, think her to have been somewhat naughty today.
Come the night, Petra resolved with all of her heart that she would be absolutely, perfectly evil.
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why are there so many dislikes?
2821443
There is a group here that has been harassing and bullying me. I've written about this in my blog, check it out if you want. Part of the ongoing abuse is to use sockpuppet accounts to massively downvote everything I do so that my works can never appear on the front page. It's completely petty and stupid, but... that's the deal.
2821467 I have read about it but I don't think I heard that there was a group dedicated to this. that is stupid and a major waste of time on their part
You know, it strikes me that Celestia has been... duplicitous, here. These humans are nothing of the sort. They are fleshy golems, with a magi-mechanical simulacrum of a soul stamped onto them. Celestia herself has written their shem, and has created them such that one day, they will run down. Possibly spot on the biblical four score and ten, barring time off for bad behaviour.
2821467 Perhaps the rating system needs overhauling. Newgrounds uses some kind of "weight" system. Older accounts generally carry more weight in voting. That would at least decrease the effectiveness of "sockpuppet accounts."
This is a front page fic. Though I'm sure you know that by now. I wasn't very hot about this story idea off the bat. (HiE fic? Boo!) This is definitely not the first time my expectations were exceeded.
Thanks for the update! Clear as day where this fic is going now.
2821493
Actually, I am working from the most recent research that seems to strongly suggest that we have expiry dates woven into our DNA. The length of our lifespans was once thought to be a genetic clock, that fell out of favor for a few decades but now, thanks to recent technology, it is back in force.
It's not just telomeres, rather there seems to be an actual set of clocks inside our DNA that count down our overall span, and gradually weaken our function over time. Some animals lack these clocks, and they are biologically immortal. One species of jellyfish, for example, regenerates almost like the Doctor from Dr. Who.
It seems to be the consensus that mortality has an evolutionary value: high turnover means high genetic adaptability though inherited mutation. Immortal creatures don't change rapidly enough to survive climactic and environmental change over time.
Celestia has kept her word, and is strict to the contract. Every circuit, every element that makes a human human is in full order. The clocks that are natural to us are there. The Hayflick limit is intact. The telomeres are eroded in Equestria just as they are on Earth. And the genes still command the flesh to fail.
I can assure you of one thing in this story - in all of my stories actually - my Celestia is, above all else, a creature of Law. Of Order. She is entirely and completely a rules lawyer, she follows the exact word of a contract to the letter. Even if she hates having to do it.
This is intrinsic to my representation of Celestia - she coped with Discord's universe of chaos by becoming neurotically obsessed with Order. Celestia is Law.
So, these humans are indeed humans, normal as can be within the defined rules of the Covenant. Brutally so. They are utterly human, with no deception whatsoever. They aren't golems, they simply had their palette swapped between the atomic colors of Mundis and the Dweonic colors of Equestria. That... and the reduction of violence demanded by Appendix B.
The Muleskinner's Club? I'm sure Celestia is shaking with laughter.
2821563
Yeah... I was kind of proud of that name. Took me a bit to remember the word, and I needed to look it up to make sure it meant what I thought it meant. To me, it just... sums things up.
Never make a deal with somepony who has dealt with dragons;
Unless you've made successful deals with the Devil.
2821633
I think I'm missing the reference, if there's something more than what a mule and a muleskinner is...?
2821538
Then how has she justified the lack of reproductive ability? I would also wonder how she can say she can heal the dead body of that man and have it "start up again" unless he's something other than human - unless she's not talking about his mind at all.
To me, it sounds more like they are meat puppet machines, but... that's kind of what humans are. I meant more that Celestia has no template for human souls, so human bodies are just... bodies, animated through magic. That would be why she cannot let humans into Equestria, because she has nothing they can become.
Hmmmm, there's a part of me that really wants to see the text of the Covenant now
2821694
I don't think there's a reference to miss (or I haven't noticed it), but it just shows the utter disrespect the "good families" have for Celestia. It's a wonderful example how this elite keeps their delusions of control and righteousness, even in Equestria.
And it's so ... subtle.
2821694
Two words: pest control. Some humans can't reproduce without (or even with) assistance. We still consider them to be fully human, so lack of reproductive ability can't be an automatic non-human flag. As for whether the E-matter meat machines are still human, Celestia never said that the re-animated body would be the same person, and it even could be if E-matter bodies don't break down in exactly the same way, so I don't think there's an issue there. In-universe, meat-machines don't have souls to begin with.
=====
As for the human enclave, I have a hard time trusting the sanity of any group who would deliberately name it Masada. Either they're historically ignorant or they're raving nutters, and I know which way I'm leaning. Slow suicide is still suicide, after all, and I'm not sure they won't opt for the quick method either.
More and more interesting!
I wonder what Luna thinks of the Covenant.
I also wonder if those two, despite being Goddesses, still act sisterly and tease each other, and to what extent. For example, given their level of power in the Chattyverse, it makes me ponder if Luna would make a new constellation in the night sky designed specifically to poke fun at Tia.
2821443
The Conversion Bureau stories, especially Chatoyance's, are incredibly controversial.
Chat's got some mad writing skills and is able to evoke emotion in her readers.
Unfortunately, due to reasons one of those emotions is rage. Due to this, she has some detractors from back in the day when she worked on Unicorn Jelly, her webcomic. These detractors found reasons (not necessarily good ones) to dislike Chat herself. And honestly? She's trollbait. Trolls can get a reaction out of her consistently, so they go out of their way to do so and follow her around the Net.
So, the dislikes aren't necessarily for the story, which is, so far, reasonable and enjoyable in its own way... and I'm sure Chat's already going to jump on one of the bad cliches of HIE fic anyway: "Humans are EEEEEVIL! I should know; I am one, if only slightly less EEEEEVIL than the rest. Here, let me tell you ponies ALLLL about it."
However, it might be interesting to see what Petra thinks is evil. Could be hilarious if she's got such things as "Leaving the toilet seat up and not making our beds ourselves!"
2821694 Short and immediately enlightening: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muleskinner
Also, I'm going to pretend to gloat here because called it.
Oh, I knew there would be exposition. I just didn't expect it to come so soon! And it is delicious.
Am I a terrible person for having enjoyed seeing the reactions of the elite to the result of the Covenant that they were so insistent on having Celestia bound to?
I suspect that your Conversion Bureau continuity contains no Princess Cadance, let alone Princess Twilight Sparkle.
I also suspect that Celestia and Luna would not have minded the presence of such during the process of personally converting all these people into Equestrian matter.
(Wow. That's the first time I've used ajsleepy to indicate actual fatigue rather than disappointment, mourning, ||etc. I wonder how often that happens.)
What awesome and terrifying power will ponykind unleash when it one day splits the dweon!?
Does that name mean anything, or did you just make it up? (Google just netted me people's usernames) If so, good job, because It does sound like one of those more "cute" names American physicists got so fond of in the '60s.
There's a kind of metaphor or commentary that I really like going on with the families, but I can't quite put my finger on it yet. Something about their detachment and aloofness from the rest of the world being taken to such an extreme that it becomes their undoing. Or like how they still can't exist without that external world to support them, no matter how independent they think they are.
Yay, now Petra has a quest as well! At first I thought it was kind of weird that a fourteen year old didn't recognize that Warren was dead, but then immediately afterward it was explained just how messed up her strange upbringing has left her. But now that we know she's made of the same matter as everything else, she can leave and be free anywhere she wants.
2822182
Sounds about right. Even with the reduced capacity for violence (however that's implemented), a future generation would inevitably eat from the Tree of Knowledge and figure out how this new matter works (We know it has at least a few things in common, since the ponies who came to Earth were able to touch things, scatter light, and breathe), and then bam, massive modern industry again, which, even with the best of intentions, would be wildly disruptive and cause a lot of heartache and displacement. 300 families is probably over a thousand people, plus all their diamond dog servants, so that would be quite a little city-state after a few decades.
And since, instead of magical souls, they're still a kind of naturally-occurring AI software, From Celestia's perspective it wouldn't be too long before they eat from the Tree of Life as well and built themselves better, somewhat more immortal bodies on which to run it. And then they'd have all the time in the world to figure out how alicorns work, and then everyone would be in a whole heap of trouble.
It would essentially be giving a blank check to the anything-goes "grey goo" internal logic of Mundis' machine life, which is more or less incompatible with the deliberately managed, pony-scale, "small is beautiful" logic of Equestria.
2823006
Both. 'Dweomer' is an ancient Old English word that translates roughly to a gossamer (spider silk) curtain. It was used in epic poetry and accounts to describe both the veil between our world and the world of the faeries, and also the 'look' or 'experience' of perceiving magical influence or power.
The word was picked up and used by a lot of folks from Tolkien (ever the Old English scholar) to the creators of Dungeons and Dragons. In the latter case, the word was used to describe a glowing effect around magical items.
I've always loved the word - I am a big word buff, as you can doubtless tell from my stories - and so when it came time to come up with the 'atom' of a magical universe, my mind seized on 'Dweon' and 'Dweonic' matter with great joy. I love inventing words - words that also kind of mean something, believable new words.
So that's the story.
2822737
Oh, I too am enjoying seeing the Very Rich people get hoisted by their own petards. And things will, for them, explode in the end. The world elite held the rabble hostage, prevented them from being rescued from a dying world, long enough to force Celestia to give them what they thought was a sweetheart deal.
My Celestia is a creature of law, she always keeps her agreements to the letter. But she is also a creature of compassion, and she utterly despises selfish ambition. She is also hyperintelligent. What could possibly go wrong for our human elite?
I am so glad you are liking this!
2822182
Oh, these earthly elite think themselves so dreadfully clever, what with the rude Muleskinner Club and calling their walled, exclusive, luxury community the Masada (to insult Celestia for not giving them an entire continent like they originally demanded), but I believe they have entirely outfoxed... themselves. Hasn't magical study on earth always taught us that names have power? Even more so, I think, in a universe with real magic - and a high thaumaturgical index at that.
Stay tuned.
2821769
Eldenath wants me to write out the entire thing. She likes her rabbit holes super deep.
But... nope. It would take away from writing the actual story. I'm short on time lately, so I try to focus on story first.
Back when I had more time, and more energy, I would have written it all out though. As an appendix to the story. Hmmm... we'll see.
2822563
After the last big attacks, the ones that bled into the offline world, I went to see a counselor about such matters.
It turns out that I seem to have a problem keeping up sufficient cynicism. Cynicism is useful in the world, it is a protective mechanism.
I get into a community of decent, kind, supportive people, and discussions flow and I create stuff and my readers spark new ideas and it becomes the most wonderful creative interaction. I lose all of my emotional armor, because I am around friends. My readers become like family to me, and I - apparently - so desperately want the world to be nicer than it is that I make the mistake of starting to believe my own bullshit - I start believing that things are kind.
When the trolls arrive, it's always the same. That was a revelation to me. They start out being pleasant, then become increasingly rude, abusive and cruel. I don't catch on, I keep trying to treat them as friends, almost as family, and I crumble as my false belief in human goodness is shattered... yet again.
By the time I finally realize what is going on, I am pretty messed up.
That is what has made me good troll bait, according to my counselor.
This time, I am working hard to still retain my ability to write - I can only be creative from a place of joy, it seems. I get sad, or mad, and the creative juice just stops flowing - while remaining cynical enough about the world to automatically Delete, Ban, Let Go.
That's my new rule for myself now, to stop being troll bait.
If anything seems off, if anything seems mean: Delete, Ban, Let Go.
The big thing I have learned this time around is that I owe nobody anything. The delete button is my friend, and giving me grief about using it is still giving me grief. Delete, Ban, Let Go.
I may write about wonderful worlds of caring creatures who work together in love and harmony, but I need to be adult enough to remain aware that I will never, ever experience the worlds I write about. I know what humans really are. I know it very, very well.
I just keep trying to believe in goodness, and that keeps hurting me.
I get very into my worlds, as I write them. I need to keep my head out of the clouds, because up there... I can't see all the assholes.
2823303
*hugs* Just don't go too far off in the other direction. Nobody else can hurt you there, but you wind up doing a real number on yourself. Been there, done that, ponies (and you!) helped.
You know I don't even need to read this to know the idea pisses me off. Not only do they sell out there own race but they also preserve there own humanity like the bunch of spineless worms they are. The only thing more pathetic about this picture is that they weren't all hung years ago by there own people.
I do hope that end the end you plan on giving them there proper just desserts as demanded by Karma Chatty.
Anyway I suppose I should welcome you back for better or for worse I actually prefer it when your here at the very least you have quite the tendency to make things interesting. So welcome back Chatty. Still it is ironic since I'm currently distancing myself from this site.
Anyway I wish I could say I would read this story but I'm afraid that I've lost interest in the conversion bureau at this point sorry Chatty
2823233 Ah yes, I recall a book series on Merlin, and his learning about magic. One of the lessons was "A true name holds true power," after he learned the true name of a rusty sword that couldn't even cut bread.
T.A. Barron was the author name if you're curious to look it up. A link as well.
2823303
- Richard Burton
Now for this chapter itself, liked the method you used to describe the heart attack. And it is looking like Petra, like every little girl does eventually is growing into a self-owned woman, and one who is more capable of independence - yet also interdependence - than her forebears it seems. The minor detail that she may end up doing so as a mare is just icing on the cake.
And alas, it would seem the world elite have fallen because of the greatest lie ever: "I have read and agree to the terms of service." Kind of ironic considering that they should know all about that.
2823196
I love the word - and will steal it for my own fics! BWA HA HA HA HAAAAAH!
(Deep breath...) Dweonic theory will rule, and those that practice it shall be known forever as the 'Dweebs' of Equestrian science! We shall search tirelessly to discover the inDwinsic underpinnings of reality, and the nature of that greatest of equations F=IM (Friendship is equal to Inspiration times Magic). And our goddess shall be Twilight Sparkle and we shall.... shall...
Er, Chat - we need more background on Dweon Physics (Dwisics?) upon which to take this. MOAR PLEASE!
Dafaddah
That was Glorious! The elite holding the rest of humanity and even themselves hostage using Celestia's compassion against her, slapping her in the face with each of their pointless, hateful, and utterly selfish demands including the needless killing of sentient, sapient, intelligent, and interesting beings just so they can enjoy the flavors of their old life. Oh~ this comeuppance has been brewing for a long time. Now that Celestia is holding all the bargaining chips, it's completely within her power to demand far more than they could ever imagine.
I don't usually read a chapter again right after finishing it, but the sheer awesomeness requires a second pass.
2820826
They weren't given souls at all. They were recreated entirely human. To the letter.
2821538
Actually, duplicitous was the wrong word. I knew it when I used it, but I don't have a much better word, except maybe rules lawyer, but that's not quite right either. She gave them exactly what they said they wanted (no more and no less) instead of what they thought they needed.
I feel incredibly sorry for them, locked up in their enclave like the British in India in the latter stages of the empire instead of out and about on the backs of elephants like Ochterlony and his thirteen wives!
I wonder - pure conjecture here since I'm not the one writing it - whether their lack of reproductive ability isn't down to any funny business with their dweons (I love that word!) but simply down to how real life works in Equestria - and that since humans don't have it, they can't make it.
...and ah, dweons! Lovely word! I would dearly love to see the physics (thaumics?) of Equestria laid out. I think it goes something like this:
The four fources of magic are charm, persuasion, uncertainty and bloody-mindedness. If you managed to split the dweon, you get the six sub-dweonic particles, which are candy floss, syrup, liquorice, biscuit, sherbet and cream, each with a different topping, of hot or cold
There's also the non-dweonic matter made out of cardboard, paper, plastic, glue, staples and ribbons, but we don't talk about that until university... 
2826529>>2827297
I want to genuinely thank The Articulator for nobly defending my honor, and I understand the upset of SuperGiantRobot at being called on his rude and baseless accusations so insultingly, but I don't want my story comment area turned into a battleground.
So, let's just assume that SuperGiantRobot is very, very sorry for having said such mean things about me now that the story spamming issue has been proven to be yet another Anti-TCB plot against me (perhaps he finds apologies difficult), and let's try to play nice now.
Which is all why I have deleted BOTH sets of comments.
2827916
My god, are you for real?
Perhaps you simply glossed over the part where I suggested the story be allowed to be re-published because of the spamming it got?
Allow me to refresh your memory
I'm seriously beginning to see the other side's point.
2821538
Wow! That's really interesting! I had recently read something about how anti-oxidants (something to do with carrots I think, I can't remember) could prevent natural cell death, but at the cost of drastically increasing the chance of getting cancer, because it interfered with the body's ability to shut down diseased cells. If I understood correctly, cells have a set lifespan, because if they didn't, genetic errors would accumulate every time the cell divides. Unfortunately, I don't know very much at all about how cells work and reproduce, so I can't even try to pretend to confirm this thing.
Here's the thing I read, I don't know if it's reliable, but—it's there if you want to read it. http://bigthink.com/devil-in-the-data/the-dark-side-of-antioxidants
I may have gotten some of this stuff from reading the comments too…
The reason that I find what you've said about there being timed death built into humans (and many other animals), is that I think that once humans have managed to not just start doing real genetic engineering on themselves, but gained a reasonable degree of mastery over the practice, then I think it might possibly be safe to turn turn this clock off. Well, it might be safe to turn it off now, and just rely on intelligence to adapt to changing environments. Maybe a compromise could be done, and we could just extend the time on the clock, so just in-case of emergencies, like say, human civilization is “sent back to the dark ages” due to some kind of disaster, we'll still have a fallback to erm—fall back on, so we're not just wiped out by harsh changes, that unavailable technology would be able to solve.
Have I even mentioned to you that I think hooves (horse style hooves) would look awesome on a human. I just really like the simplicity of the bone structure compared to that of a human foot. Less moving parts to break down you know… Plus there's that really nifty frog. And I might also kinda like the rest of the leg with it's springiness below the hock and whatnot. Although, perhaps the horse/pony's front legs would be better adapted to the human form than the back ones. Human legs seem to me to be optimized for slow steady movement.
My sister has flat feet, and just a few days ago, fractured two bones in her foot, the fifth metatarsal and the cuboid bone. Not that I think that having flat feet was a direct cause for her fractures. Still, not fun to deal with. All those thin little bones in the human foot bug me. Uhg, now I've got yet another pet peeve following me around, begging to be fed.
The elephant's foot is interesting too, but for different reasons.
I think I might be a transhumanist at heart. Or a mad scientist. Either way…
Go for it Petra! Just don't get caught, your folks so crazy. And I try not to use the word crazy…
2827972
Of course I saw that. I thank you for making that statement, that was very noble and good. Defending anyone from attack is always kindness.
Before that, however, you did arbitrarily - and rather rudely - tear into me under the mistaken belief that I had caused the spam attack. There was no 'sorry, my bad' for that action. That is clearly what made The Articulator upset. Just as you were defending me from others, he was defending me from... you.
I would not minimize your good deed. Neither do I overlook your bad deed. I comprehend both why The Articulator chewed you out, and also why you responded to him in anger. Both of you were defending things, both of you had your reasons for feeling upset.
That said, while I appreciated your support, I did not enjoy your arbitrary leap to judgement against me previously.
Just as you did not like The Articulator judging you.
Why don't we all just forgive and forget? I think that would be best for everyone - you, me, and The Articulator too. How about it?
And yes... I am absolutely for real. I put on no pretenses. I am me, and I need people to get along, be civil and polite to each other, and I prefer that everyone give each other the benefit of the doubt.
2821443
Because some people can't treat a story as a story, and instead assume it is a bunch of anti-human propaganda.
That, and GIFT.
This is very good.
Hm, I wonder what age do the princesses consider to be "of age"? The traditional 13 which goes back thousands of years, or the statutory age of consent which in recent history has been continually getting pushed higher and higher? (in many countries it is now 25, and I've heard of a few that want it to be 28; I can't even begin to imagine how high it must be by the time of the worldcorp- it's a fantastic way to keep control over the population, by denying them the right to grow up until they physically no longer can due to the loss of brain plasticity that comes with age)
those rich bastards are getting what they deserve!
goddess, but I love Celestia!
I hope you can finish soon though.
Go Petra go!
Interesting. . . Celestia said that they are exactly the same, more or less, but the Good Families can't breed.
Also, Petra is very unhealthy, mentally speaking. If losing a friend that she's only known for six months was enough to put her into a semi-catatonic state, then she's either very emotionally fragile or unstable. I'm going to assume that this is a consequence of her "unique" upbringing. And yet, her parents, the Bettencourts, either don't know or don't care about her condition.
2821538
That has changed humans are living longer and longer lives now also Celestia has made them unable to reproduce meaning she has in fact broken her promise to leave them as humans because if she had kept her promise then they would still have everything they had before becoming made of equestrian particles which means they would in fact still be able to have children until the women hit menopause
10316072
Again, you need to read more story. Answers are given, only later. The reason is called 'The Unreliable Narrator', and it is a basic literary technique. Characters in a well-written story can only know what a real person, in their situation, could possibly know. This means that characters can be wrong, they can misunderstand, they can think they have answers when they have lies.
In this way, a good author can lead the reader astray by showing what characters believe about their world, and since the reader has no other source of information, they are just as blind and lost as the characters. This allows them to experience events in a story naturally, as if they were there. Not all stories do this - but powerful, literary stories often do.
There is a reason the humans can no longer reproduce in the Masada. That reason will be revealed. Celestia did not break any part of the contract nor the law. She IS the law. She is following the contract to the last tiny statement, exactly and precisely. So there is more going on here. It will all be revealed.
But, if you must know: the humans have been cheating and breaking the rules, and Celestia knows about it. They are being punished according to the contract they signed. As you will find out by reading more of the story.
I do believe that Celestia is sad. I also think that on another level she is enjoying tweaking the humans just a bit too much.
Them's your choices, Nicky. Die as a human, or live as a pony. You should be glad that Celestia is even giving you the option to go pony. You blackmailed her, and I don't think she appreciates that.
And this is why I love Luna so much. That, and she's so much fun to riff movies with.