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T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U :
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Brand New Universe
By Chatoyance
Universe Five: Curtains Of Light
Andres Majano crept through the ferns of Coatepeque. He whimpered from fear, and pain. The echo of the bullet that had nearly hit him still echoed in his mind, the dark, swelling bruise across the side of his face throbbed where the Bastón had impacted his skull. As far as he knew, he was the only one of the members of the Transformación Departamento that had made it this far.
The new telón, the new Curtain Of Light was near.
They had appeared without warning, all over the world. In every nation, in every sort of place, even in the middle of the ocean the Curtains appeared. Flat, two-dimesional walls of light that hung in the air, or intersected the ground. They could be stuck through a mountain, or divide a building in a city.
Some were large, one was nearly a kilometer across. Others could be small, like the one discovered in a closet in England, barely large enough to serve a child. They were of odd shape; rounded smears of flatness, like paint spread across an invisible canvas, hanging in space. The Curtains were flat beyond flatness, truly two-dimensional.
The Curtains were like windows, or perhaps more like flat screen televisions. They displayed a flat, two-dimensional image of another world, a brighter world, a strange world, a world of magical creatures. The images were flat and lacked depth, but they were clear, and perfect, and most terrifying of all, they were clearly real.
Strange, colorful, horse-like creatures walked and flew with wings in the Curtains, and in their world stood thatched-roof cottages, impossibly steep mountains, and fairy palaces. There were unicorns too, and other creatures; dragons, manticores, things no person knew.
The small horses, ponies really, seemed to be the masters of the world of the Curtains, and it was they who lived in the cottages and managed their world. At first the Curtains had been greeted with wonder and awe. Some saw them as a sign from god, others as some strange new secret technology, perhaps stolen from the UFO's and used by the Americanos as some new ploy to frighten the people of El Salvador. But it became clear soon enough that the entire world knew the Curtains Of Light, and that they were beyond the works of Man.
The wonder had turned to horror when the first person, a child, had dared to touch a Curtain. The boy's hand had passed into the flat world, and he could not pull it back out. There was no sign of his hand on the other side of the Curtain, behind where his hand vanished into it. But inside the world of the Curtain, from his wrist on, was the bright blue hoof of a pony.
No effort could pull him free. In the struggle to tear him from the curtain, his father drew too close, and his shoulder became caught within it. He could not pull himself away, and with that he resigned himself to death. He demanded that the boy be freed, and the médicoamédica were brought, with shiny saws to cut the boy's arm free from the trap of the Curtain.
But the boy became afraid, and he had run from the doctors, into the Curtain. Entirely within, he had been transformed. He was now one of the intelligent horses, the ponies, and he claimed he was content.
His father joined him - what else could he do? - and together they faced the assembled crowd and proclaimed their newfound joy. Soon they were surrounded by the natives of that strange place, and then a dialogue had begun.
The ponies called themselves Equestrians. They had two rulers, princesses of day and night. The Curtains existed in their world as well, but they could not pass through them, though they could see the world of Men in them. Our world looked as flat to them as theirs did to us, and they claimed their realm as three dimensional as ours. The flatness was but an ilusión of the Curtains.
The father and his boy would be welcomed in the new world, as citizens. They were ponies now, and could not return in any case. But they were happy for this, for this new world, this Equestria, had no régime, no violentar, no Enforcers, no death squads, no hunger, and no torture. The world of the ponies knew nothing of dictators or war or poverty. It was a fairyland of kindness and socialismo, at least in spirit. There executions were unknown, and no pony wanted for anything.
This was when the trouble started, of course. Around the world, the poor, the disenfranchised, the desechado, the outcast began to run for the Curtains of Light. They sought the peace and prosperity denied them in the world of Man. The sought escape from the rich and the powerful and the violent. The price of being a pony was nothing compared to the relief from suffering that the Curtains promised.
This, of course, was too much for El Gobierno. The Governments of the world banded together to make the Curtains forbidden, to block them, to wall them up, to prevent the people of the world from using them. They made great campaigns to reframe the Curtains as an evil, as maligno, as satanas, as a plague and a terror upon the world. The rich men did not want to lose their slaves, their workers, their peasants to the ponies.
Thus was born the revolution of the Transformación Departamentos, the Conversion Bureaus. Here, banded together those who would fight for the freedom and joy that the Curtains offered. Here was the movement to help the peoples of the world to win their way to a Curtain and pass through to the world of joy. Viva La Revolución!
Andres had been part of a group that had thought to make their way to the lake in Coatepeque. A Curtain was there, half in the water, and half on the shore, a great, rounded, irregular swipe of color dividing space. It was nearly fifty meters across in the long direction, and it had been where his wife had fled a month before.
But the Government had finally come to seal it away. Guard towers stood on the banks, and in the trees, and fences of metal and barbed wire stood now to keep the desperate away. Andres had been told that his wife, now an amber mare, waited for him day after day, checking the Curtain from her side, as she went about her new life there. Sometimes she would be seen with a basket from some market in the other world.
Occasionally the soldados would shoot with their guns at the ponies. The bullets would become the petals of flowers on the other side. No evil could cross the Curtains Of Light. Andres had been told that his Miranda would laugh at the soldiers, and mock them. Still, she waited for her Andres.
He could see, from where he crouched, the soldiers sitting, smoking and drinking by the gates. The tower by the shore panned the landscape with a spotlight, the moon being but a tiny crescent in the night sky. The darkness would help.
Inside the Curtain, all was light, for it was day in the pony world. Through the flat smear Andres could see distant mountains and blue sky, shining clouds and beautiful trees. There was a village close to the Curtain, and the ponies were going about their lives within it. Then he saw her.
His Miranda, it must be. An amber mare, a pony, sitting staring through the Curtain. Andres wanted to wave, but the thought was insane. It was many meters to the Curtain, past armed men and fences too.
But Andres had a plan.
He circled in the dark around the lake, always in the trees. When he was a third of the way around the water, Andres moved to the edge of the trees and studied the shoreline. The Government had only recently begun to try to seal off the Curtain at Coatepeque. They almost certainly had been spread thin, trying to contain the other curtains across the land. If he was very lucky, the soldiers would not have the fancy night vision goggles. Upon this, Andres was betting his life.
Carefully, he crept, flat to the sand, across the span to the water. Like a caimán, he slipped silently into the dark lake, and began his long, careful swim. From time to time he floated upon his back, breathing in shallow, quiet gasps, always moving towards his goal, The Curtain.
The otherworldly daylight spilled out, shining upon the water. Andres hoped that the brilliance would hide him, and blind those who watched and carried the guns.
When he had finally reached the edge of the great Curtain of Light, he found his plan was in jeopardy; the curving swipe of the strange, flat window hung above his head, over the water. It had looked from afar as if he could just swim into the pony world, but this was not to be. He would have to make it to the shore, where the flat splotch curved down and into the ground, to the place where anyone could walk across. This was why the soldiers were not worried about the water.
Following the line of the Curtain above him, Andres made his way as quietly as possible towards the sand where the fences stood and the soldiers drank and swore. When he was but a handful of meters from the shore, he paused, in the water, his toes barely touching the shallow lakebed below him. Andres planned out his move.
Again, he was swimming, moving in the water, until his feet were solidly on the lake floor, and he was crawling in the water, creeping closer and closer, like a Comando. His plan was simple. He would rise suddenly from the water and bolt through the Curtain like a rabbit. Nothing could stop him.
But a meter from the shore, Andres stood, slowly, carefully, for the soldier's backs were to him, and their attentions were upon their drink and their stories. He took a quiet, dripping step, and then another. He did not see the bright, red point of light on his thigh.
At first there was no pain. He simply fell, wondering why he had done so. The sirens were screaming now, and the soldiers were running away from the Curtain, thinking of an attack from the front, beyond the fences.
Andres tried to stand, but his right leg would not obey him. He began to crawl, a crude, three-limbed splashing struggle to make the shore and to drag his trailing leg into the daylight of the other world. This time he saw the red point trace across the sand. A sniper, in the tower. That is why he was trailing dark ink from his numb leg. This was why he felt so strange, the shock beginning to overcome him.
Andres leapt forward like a frog, pushing with his good, left leg. The sand where he had been exploded with the impact of a shot from the tower. Andres found himself within a meter of the Curtain, his mare wife Miranda aware of him now, watching close by, on her side of the curtain. Her vast, green eyes widened as she saw him struggle to rise again.
Another shot, this time Andres knew he had been hit in the middle, somewhere, and it was not good. His leg was beginning to sear with pain, but he knew that this was nothing to whatever had been done to his body. He began to drag himself, and felt sand pushing up inside him through a hole that should not be there. The screams and yells of the arguing soldiers had changed. They now were running back to the Curtain, and when they arrived, all hope would be lost.
Andres head swum, and he felt as if he were sunk in thick mud. Every motion was slow, and he could barely think. He felt cold, so cold, even in the warm and tropical night. Finally he fell, the shock overcoming him. But his hand and arm had fallen through the Curtain. It was now a leg and hoof.
The amber mare took that leg in her teeth and began to pull. As she pulled she screamed, and other ponies of her world galloped to her side and took hold of what they could to help. Andres felt himself being dragged through the sand, just as the soldiers arrived. Of course they would take his legs and pull them. The pain from his injuries instantly overwhelmed the shock and snapped him back to horrified consciousness.
The nightmarish tug-of-war continued, to the soldiers it was a game. They cared only to win, and nothing of pain or suffering. The ponies pulled with all of their might, and it was more than that of the soldiers, standing on the sand. But for Andres, each second was agony beyond measure. He was sure his intestines were dragging behind him.
Now the soldiers from the tower had arrived, and they began to overcome the ponies. Andres felt his consciousness slip from him like a fish freshly caught but loosely held. It would be no use. The soldiers would win, and there would be no reunion of pony husband and pony wife.
Through the haze of his pain, Andres saw a unicorn arrive. It's horn glowed with a strange light. Suddenly the tug of war turned, and he was pulled with speed through the Curtain, several soldiers with him. They all fell upon the cobblestones of the pony village. The other side of the Curtain divided the village square, night shining beyond, the contorted faces of the screaming, cursing soldiers filled with rage at their loss.
Andres the pony stood, a fine stallion. Beside him stood also two soldiers, now stallions themselves. Andres could feel the change in his heart. He felt light, and inocente, and devoid of all malice or anger. The former soldiers looked at themselves and then at Andres. The grovelled at his hooves and begged his forgiveness, their own hearts changed utterly, no longer soldiers at all.
And then Miranda was upon him with pony kisses and licks and nibbles upon his ear, and the pony citizens cheered and danced and congratulated them both on their reunion.
Now they would be together, forever, in the world without soldiers, or poverty, or fear.
For the first time, Andres felt sorry for the rich and powerful men that ruined the lives of so many. Lost in their darkness of power, they had no brightness in their lives. It was sad.
For there was light in the world now.
The Curtains Of Light.
Ah, you finally posted it!
These new universes... So pretty
Vision of a man about uploading humanity's mind to a new shell
The ideas of greater expansion of worlds, with a simple pocket universe named Equestria
A single virus to overturn the entire history of violence.
The great rebuild on a shattered civilization, consumed by their of arrogance
And this, a simple curtains, bridging the gap between two worlds so easily passable
Words cannot describe the awesomeness
It is written by the inimmitable Chatoyance, therefore I shall track it.
This whole thing really stings my brain.
Isn't it nice to read about horrible dystopias to feel better about our own world?
To be so lucky as to get not one but five new stories, HUZZAH!
I am so impressed! What an amazing set of stories, and as usual so beautifully written. When I grow up (as a writer) I wanna be just like you!
Dafaddah
Makes you think. Any one of these stories could be possible at some point in the future.
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That would be totally awesome!
But not the Phoenix In Hooves, that one required us to be dead first
313238 Meh.
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oops. I'll just go fix that.
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Ch.3, The Friendship Virus, is IMO the most unrealistic. If Singularity-level technology is achieved, whether in the next hundred years or the next thousand, the various technologies seen in The Pony Singularity, The Most Decadent Thing, and Phoenix in Hooves might all become mere theoretically solvable engineering problems instead of Science Fiction. Curtains of Light is the simple intersection of two universes. But for Ch.3, the truth of the matter is that, for better or worse, genetic manipulation can only go so far. Human culture, that is, the world that has been created by the uncounted generations of the past, is at the least as much to blame for the Human Condition as Humanity's Human-ness is. Basically, gender roles are culturally defined. There's lots of stuff about it, but it's late for me and I don't remember anything accurate about anthropology at all right now. I do remember reading something about the Man=Hunter, Woman=Gatherer view being extraordinarily stupid and narrow-minded and wrong and stuff. Oh, and uh, something something nothing stopping it from being reversed and blah blah chaos and moonbases and disease spreading models and that kind of stuff.
That's not to say that I didn't enjoy reading Ch.3, because it was hilarious! The breasts were totally intentional! It's an Ultimate Feminist Victory: World Peace and stay-at-home breast-feeding Dads. I certainly do agree with the sentiment: World Culture definitely needed an injection of femininity yesterday, where yesterday is quite a long time ago.
This is one of my favorite things about you, Chat: Your ability to conceive of all of these incredible sci-fi scenarios and then bring them home with excellent writing and compassionate detail. So. Much. AWESOME.
I am extremely disappointed in you Chatoyance: None of these stories are new! I may not have quite read as much Science Fiction as you have, but I can tell that all you've done is taken great inspiration from those stories, integrated FiM and TCB themes in clever and entertaining ways, and Jaywalking! How could you, you monster!
Seriously though, I would like to know what inspired these shorts. I know that I've read at least two very similar but different versions of the computer-becomes-god story, (I can't remember the name of the stories or the authors,) but if any of the others have been directly inspired by something I can't tell.
I'm kinda a bad scifi fan. Not to say that I haven't read stuff online or at libraries, but the only classic sci-fi book I own is a 400-page short-story collection from Philip K. Dick. That's only ONE book. From what you've said before, Chatoyance, it's clear that you've read much more than I have. For the last six months 90% of my fiction intake has been FiM fanfics. I'm so horrible!
I'm definitely leaking mental ability right now. To the bed-cave!
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I don't know where inspiration comes from. I just sat down because I needed to write and these spilled out over about two days. I was feeling bored with Going Pony (don't worry, I haven't abandoned it) and I really needed to write something really different. So I just went with that. It felt so good.
The image of old Gunter in the chair with Pinkie Pie in his hands just popped into my mind, whole. That image implied the whole story to me.
The Friendship Virus was actually the first story I wrote, that came, I think, from me chatting on IRC. I was arguing that going pony was a good thing, but some people actually told me that the reason they were against ponification was because it would end all the wars, and wars were cool and without them life would be boring. I choked and gagged inside, because I don't think they were joking. Seriously.
I'm a trannie. I've seen what testosterone does. I have a unique perspective. It really does cause all of those serious personality changes, whether or not people want to admit it. Humans are controlled by their chemistry, and our free will is tempered, strongly, by our bodies. We only have partial free will. I have personally seen this to be true. Thus my Friendship Virus story. It's not some feminist political crap. I tell you true: I have lived it, and I report that it is fact.
Also, I had just finished reading New Scientist about why Bonobo apes are so helpful to each other and so kind and gentle, unlike all other great apes. They are strictly matriarchal, and the female leaders simply will not abandon others or take any violent crap at all. They are the only great apes that live this way. And they are the only non-violent apes.
Instant story.
The Most Decadent thing was inspired, I think, by imagining humanity at its peak in the future, then slamming AbFab into it. The old Britcom 'Absolutely Fabulous'? That's my best guess.
Curtains Of Light came about, I think, by two things. One, I wanted a door to Equestria that was not a bubble. Second, I was still thinking about those people who oppose ponification on the grounds that suffering and war and cruelty are good things and that Man needs them somehow, and that losing them would be a wrong... somehow. Then I thought of El Salvador. I knew a guy from there. His entire family had been skinned alive by the enforcers, which is why he had run to America. Yea, ponification is such a bad thing. Oh, yeah.
Phoenix In Hooves was inspired by those really sharp, tall, Super Mario style mountains in the background of MLP? You know, the impossibly tall mountains in the cartoon? I thought, what if they were supermachines? What if Equestria was the future of the earth - a common and obvious speculation used by many authors. I started putting those together and came up with a gray goo scenario that fit.
Hey! I guess I CAN kinda explain where inspiration comes from after all.
Cool.
wow this was... amazing, brilliant, perfect, phenomenal, and epic
just the whole thing, its genius
i can almost visibly see the story's happening before my eyes
all of these chapters are... amazing
you did an amazing job building the characters in such a short pieces
i wish i had even a 16th the talent that you have
please keep being a genius, you are one of three or four other writers that have encouraged me to take my own project into my own hands instead of hoping someone else writes it
As I read each tale, more and more and more thoughts began pouring into my consciousness, like a great damn breaking and the water it holds back thundering down to fill an empty lake.
At first, it was mainly pure curiosity that fueled the flow.
Then, the water moved with understanding, of recognition.
Followed by amusement (not the mocking kind).
And next with utter imagination and wonder.
But finally, the last trickles came from the broken dam with the force of shame, and regret.
This entire work interested me in the way that a young child would stare at a dead thing: morbid fascination. So ugly, so beautiful, so weirdly off-putting, but packed with a powerful dosage of revelation.
And I have to say, it scared the fuck out of me.
You address a lot of things in the real world here, intentional or not. For instance, the hyper-connectivity seen in the second story. One may merely go to a park, a place of great natural beauty, and see people on laptops or tablets or smartphones, completely ignoring the amazing world around them, instead opting to create one to live in.
No, that's hypocritical of me. I'm an author, for fucks sake, and a brony at that. Immersing myself in a different world is what I do. And not all the real world is worth giving more than a second glance at.
The chapter about the virus, though, struck a chord with me. As a hot-blooded, hairy, beer-swigging, knuckle-cracking, rugby-playing, hunting, unnecessary-risk-taking, lazy, belching, strong-but-silent man... I completely agree with you. Women should really be running everything, and they'd probably be doing it a hell of a lot better than men every did. Maybe when humans were still rugged, still living free and wild, men were the best choice. But not now. Now, manly qualities are a bit unnecessary. However, I must digress. Contact sports (rugby) are very fun for me, and I really do love the simple, unexplainable sensation of ramming something at full speed.
Go figure.
Anyway, have an obligatory "MOAR!" and pat yourself on the back. Good fucking job, indeed.
I'm going to go lay down and stare at the ceiling now. Toodles!
Amazing story, but I think you messed up the subject-verb order in your Spanish a bit. Transformación Departamento is like saying Bureau Conversion in English. I know enough Spanish to know that much, at least. This is, however, all hinging on the assumption that it wasn't intentional.
Oh, and on a less important note, Canterlot Mountain could just be a volcanic plug. They're usually made of rhyolite, which is extremely hard, resistant to weathering, and would form steep or almost shear cliff faces. It can also be the dark color displayed in the show, depending on its composition.
Being a science major is hard, I have to point out things like this about stories written about cartoons for little girls!
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I very much like these stories, particularly The Pony Singularity, The Most Decadent Thing, and Phoenix in Hooves. I would love to see any of these three turned into a larger story, if you ever decided to do so, though I am not quite sure how well that would work with Phoenix in Hooves, as you wrapped it up pretty neatly as an Equestria origins story. While reading these three, especially The Most Decadent Thing and Phoenix in Hooves, but also somewhat from The Pony Singularity, I was very much reminded of some of Isaac Asimov's work, The Last Question in particular. I got a little bit of a Ghost in the Shell vibe from The Pony Singularity, in addition to being reminded of Asimov. You have been and continue to be my favourite TCB author.
I hope my occasional teasing you for "breath" doesn't annoy you too terribly.
Hm... one was Skynet, Sunshine and Rainbows Edition. I don't think it was too many years in the future, but I can say that what we saw of it was pretty plausible. Also a dash of Apprentice Adept, if I'm not mistaken.
Two was... that's an extremely plausible future. I've always been of the opinion that humanity could eventually learn from its mistakes and collectively pull its head out of its collective ass, and I find it extraordinarily amusing that going to the extreme end of where we currently are could lead to people actually wanting to do that as the latest fad.
Three... I have to respectfully disagree on the feminist part of the message here. Wars have always been about greed, violence is simply the method men chose to utilize. Whether for control, money, or power, I can't see women being any less ruthless if they made it to the top, even though the methods would likely differ. In the case of this particular story, however, I can accept the letter if not the spirit, since most people would have been focused on the obvious evils rather than the subtle ones, which were mostly likely also removed.
Four. Highly amusing idea. Nanomachines... I do believe Cracked.com actually rated them as most likely to end the world, all but one of the others being the LHC if I remember correctly. The memory banks being damaged and resulting in ponies... yeah. From the bronies responsible, I can almost hear the 'whoops... you're welcome!' Also a highly believable future.
Five. Eh, pretty realistic take on if the Singularity wasn't so inevitable. Not really anything special otherwise. Could be expanded into a full-on revolution/espionage/underground railroad style story if you wanted, but it's not really anything other than a brief action piece as-is.
Overall... good show.
This has been real eye opener Chaty. Every angle similar in result whilst altering the fundamental philosophical question. Each has left me wanting more from the subsequent universe, yet on edge to see what you’ll come up with next.
If you have anymore to add to this wonderful collection, please do hun. I’ll be watching with bated breath
Out of all of them so far, this is my favourite because it is so far removed from everything. I like the way you describe this impossibly vast, ancient and impatient society of hedonists such that, as mad as it is, it makes twisted sense.
And then to have these post-humans reintegrate... fascinating. Whatever you were smoking, I want some.
that was pretty badass
Oh man. I was loving this one. LOVING it. Ponification is optional, unless you're both stupid and clumsy (or something really crazy happens). Everyone who lives in such horrible circumstances they'd give up their species for peace and plenty can do so if they can only find a door. Meanwhile, everyone else gets to stay human.
Then, mind control.
Whoa, this one really had some emotional tension going throughout that tug-of-war scene near the end. I really enjoyed it!
So many great moments:
The scene where the father and son dealt with the curtain for the first time was a great moment of discovery. I like how well it established the rules and even caused the characters to resort to extreme measures to remove the boy.
A very realistic response, I would say. If they can't control, they make it seem like a monster. If they can control the minds of the populace, they won't have to build fences. They'll already exist within their minds.
This was so sad! The idea that she keeps coming back to look for her husband is very touching indeed and the start of the story within this greater world-building tale. This very personable moment really intrigued me and helped kick the story up a notch.
The image of the bullets becoming petals on the other side? Now that's beautiful. That's worthy of being a piece of art in visual form. That whole scene is like a metaphor for defeating hate with kindness.
I felt so bad for Andres when that red point of light appeared on his thigh. I knew he was going to get it and honestly didn't believe he would make it. Or at least I thought there was a chance he would fail.
You're very, very good at this, Chatoyance. Excellent story!
I think this is my favorite one yet
Hm, now this one brings to mind those work camps you'd mentioned before for FiO. The world falling apart as humans try to leave it for a better one, those that remain trying to make it hell for anyone to leave, those who risk it all to escape into a paradise of ponies... I'd love to see more of this kind of thing.
This is a beautiful story about windows into another world. It reminds me about Equestrian Girls.
*Checks wardrobe*
This one hits different, twelve years later. Most people under 50 (and many over!) are fed up with politics, economics, the standard of living, and dozens of other things. The elites wouldn't just be losing the working poor, but a huge number of young(er) people from the "developed world" in general, and an increasing percentage of the elderly. Given certain political policies around the world, I expect the elites would (at first, until the second-order effects became obvious) be very glad to see them go.
MAiD = Medical Assistance in Defenestration. Cancer? Tossed through the window. Dementia? Tossed through the window. Depression? Window. Social Credit Score too low? Window. Said a no-no word? Window. Voted wrong? Window. Unemployed? Window.