Chapter 13: Personhood
A CITYSCAPE. Skyscrapers, but low ones, as if they were built for scraping a lower sky. A mix of textures and colors, brick, stone and glass. Some facades crumbling, some fresh, others refurbished. Windows in every shape. Ledges and arches like you’d find in Earth architecture, but beyond it. Old-fashioned spectacle.
And behind it all, water. Creeping inlets of water that looked like they might be snaking their way in among the motley buildings, planning to live among them and add to the city’s sense of heterogeneity.
And ponies. Barely visible on the streets far below were ponies going about their business. Carts, carriages, chariots. Old-fashioned streets, contrasting with the height and density of the skyline. Definitely not Manehattan. Could it be Fillydelphia? I thought I knew Fillydelphia by now.
Over the dim bustle came an enthusiastic voice—the voice of Spike the dragon, saying in his practiced way: “It’s… Life in Equestria! Featuring Her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle!”
In a title sequence familiar to just about the whole English-speaking world, Twilight Sparkle whirled in mid-air against the background of a village somewhere in central Equestria. She glided to a graceful hind-legged landing (which, according to People Magazine, it had taken the relatively inexperienced flier forty-five takes to get right.)
Sparkles flew everywhere along with that tinkly sound that sparkles apparently make, and the title song played:
Life in Equestria shimmers!
Life in Equestria shines!
And I know for absolute certain
That everything’s going to be… fine!
With a wave of magenta, we were left looking at the same skyline as before, but from a different angle. Princess Twilight flew in and faced us, hovering. “Welcome to Life in Equestria! I’m Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship. And this week, I’ve come here… to the historic harbor city of Baltimare!”
Baltimare! Right. I hadn’t recognized it on sight, but I was pretty sure I’d seen it somewhere before.
As Twilight spoke, we were treated to a flyover view of some of the city’s streets. “Baltimare was founded in the seventh century of the Two Sisters, making it one of the oldest cities in Eastern Equestria. It was named after Lady Balthazar, a wealthy Saddle Arabian mage who sponsored the founding of an eastern seaport in Equestria so that her Mages’ Guild could more easily obtain exotic magical supplies. Home to over sixty-thousand ponies, Baltimare’s ports allow it to conduct wide-ranging trade with foreign lands from Zebrica to the Greater Draconic Steppes. But it’s not ponies, zebras or dragons that bring us here today…”
The shot cut to Twilight swooping down before a sign hung over the door to a sizable convention center: “PAN-EQUESTRIAN ANIMAL RIGHTS CONFERENCE—THIS WEEK!” In the background, a lane of frogs hopped easily across a street behind an earth pony carrying a flag and a whistle.
“…It’s Equestria’s first ever conference on animal rights!”
The camera swept wide, panning past a well populated plaza with escorted pockets of animals here and there—skunks and ferrets, rabbits and chipmunks… even a group of ponies in jungle gear leading a blindfolded cockatrice. The camera lingered for a while, picking up the hubbub and setting the scene.
Then it cut to a concrete wharf with ocean in the background and a wooden ship bobbing at the edge of the frame.
Twilight stood in the foreground and continued to expound. “The Equestrian Oversight Society is a civil authority concerned with maintaining quality of life throughout Equestria. Founded in the second century of Celestial Peace, they consider themselves supplementary to the provincial governments in their mission to identify and address problems that affect Equestria as a whole, and not just some portion of it. As such, they carry only that authority which the princesses choose to vest in them, but are invaluable as a citizens’ forum for discussing pan-Equestr—”
“Get to the point!” yelled Rainbow Dash’s unmistakable voice from off-screen. “They aren’t here for a lecture.”
Twilight looked flustered, but recovered smoothly. “That’s true—they’re here for a symposium! The Equestrian Oversight Society, or EOS, has sent a delegate here from every province to discuss the issue of animal rights. They always like to have a princess present at their conferences to witness the will of the people, so I volunteered!”
The camera drifted along as Twilight strolled along the wharf. “I’m here with my good friend Rainbow Dash, who helped me prepare Cloudsdale for the Equestrian Games, and has been sticking with me ever since…”
Rainbow, sitting casually on the wharf with her legs crossed, shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”
The camera went the other way. “…And with my other good friend, Fluttershy, whom I asked to come along as an expert on animal behavior.”
Fluttershy was sitting quite a distance away, as if she was afraid of the camera. She immediately blushed and sank into herself.
“Say hi, Fluttershy!” encouraged Twilight. “Millions of people are watching!”
She jerked and shrank back further. “…Millions?”
“Tens of millions!” said Spike’s voice, offscreen. “If you count the humans on Earth. Maybe hundreds of millions!”
Predictably, this made Fluttershy creep even further back. Twilight shot a glare past the camera, presumably where Spike was, and trotted over to Fluttershy. “It’s okay,” she reassured her. “All you have to do is say hi!”
Fluttershy shook her head nervously, her front hooves covering her mouth.
Rainbow poked her head into frame. “C’mon, Flutters. It’s not like we’re asking the world, here.”
“No,” murmured Fluttershy. “You’re just talking to the world.”
“Fluttershy,” chided Twilight. “You realize that ‘hi’ has only one syllable, don’t you? You’ve already said a lot more syllables than that already.”
Twilight’s logic didn’t seem to sway the nervous mare, though, who just gave her head a further little shake and inched so far back she was in danger of falling in the water.
“Eh, don’t sweat it,” said Rainbow. “Maybe she already said something that sounded like ‘hi’. We can just edit it in post.”
“Rainbow, how many times do I have to tell you?” objected Twilight. “Post-production is not magic.”
“I just can’t say ‘hi’,” protested Fluttershy. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
Rainbow clapped her hooves together. “There you go! We can work with that.”
“Good,” said Twilight, retaking control. “As I was saying, I’m here with my friends Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy to document the anim—”
“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Twilight?” interrupted Spike’s voice.
“Huh? No, Spike, I don’t think I’m forgetting anyone. Thanks for checking, though! As I was saying, we’re here to document the conference and pass along any decisions they may reach to Princess Celestia. But while we’re in town, we intend to see the sights!”
The camera started to swing and Spike’s legs were visible for a split second. Then came a shot zooming around the bayline at tremendous speed, accompanied by energetic rock music. Sailboats big and small, pontoons, rowboats, galleys and even steam engines cut across the water or sat hitched to docks and posts. Miles of picturesque shoreline restaurants, storehouses, industrial yards and magnificent stone halls with Equestrian flags passed by in the space of a quarter minute.
The music blazed out, leaving us listening to the irregular clinks, horns and other sounds of the wharf. A duck swam out swiftly against the waves, then turned and swam more swiftly back to the dock. Fluttershy was waiting there, watching with kind eyes.
“Excellent job, Bailey.” She reached out to give the duck the gentlest of pats on the head, which seemed to please it. Turning to the camera, Fluttershy blushed, but this time her bravery won out. “This is Bailey. He’s one of my favorite animals, and he insisted on coming along to this conference. He’s so very clever.”
The duck shook himself dry in the brisk, contained way that ducks do. Like all Equestrian animals, he looked different than his Earthly counterparts. He was simpler in shape, with fewer features and a pronounced curve to his back and neck, almost like a subtle caricature of a duck. His wings tapered to rounded points, individual feathers invisible. His head was green, his body brown.
Spike’s voice: “Can you… talk to Bailey?”
Fluttershy was unmistakably more animated now that she was being asked about her great passion. “I talk to all my animal friends,” she explained to the camera. “They don’t always understand me, but they always care. If I truly care about them, and if they truly care about me, then the emotion carries through.”
“And… is that enough?” asked Spike.
“It’s enough for us to get along,” said Fluttershy firmly. “But some animals seem to understand more. Bailey here is very good at understanding. I gave him instructions for exactly which way to swim, and he followed them to the letter.” She smiled at the duck, who lifted his head to make eye contact with her. “Sometimes I think he understands everything I say.”
The camera zoomed in on the duck’s alert face with its unreadable black eyes. “And… can any of your animals talk back to you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Fluttershy. “Some of them have their own languages. They aren’t as complex as our language, but I guess that’s just because they don’t have as much to say.”
Bailey waddled forward and peered at the camera, thrusting his head forward with his neck crooked.
“So you can talk about things with some of your animals?”
“Some of them, yes. For instance, one time I negotiated with a beaver who’d built a dam right across the edge of Applejack’s farm. He wanted an apology. But then, beavers are cleverer than most animals. They’re builders.”
“Your bunny Angel seems pretty smart,” continued Spike. “I had to look after him once, and he didn’t let me get anything by him.”
“Angel is very smart,” said Fluttershy. “But he’s very stubborn, and his stubbornness can cloud his judgment.” She glowered, looking from the camera to the young dragon behind it. “I still can’t believe you took him on a train all the way to the Crystal Empire, and then lied about it,” she scolded. “After all, he is only a bunny rabbit.”
“I already said I was sorry about that! Like, five times!” blustered Spike. “You would never have found out if the humans hadn’t made an episode about it!”
“And you even tried to pretend it hadn’t really happened, even then,” continued the irate pegasus. “Even though everything else in their show happened exactly the way they wrote it, you expected us to believe that was the one thing they got wrong.”
“Look, I’m sorry! Is six sorries enough? I was just crazy for gem cake! You think Angel’s stubbornness clouds his judgment? Well, my hunger clouds mine!”
Fluttershy softened visibly. “I know. And it just goes to show that we shouldn’t have left you with all that responsibility. You weren’t ready for it. And neither is a bunny like Angel, no matter how loyal and true he is.”
The focus blurred out, then blurred in again on the interior of a large building. There were concrete stairs, buttresses and lots of open space. White painted walls and carpet patterned in lavender and gray. Ponies were walking this way and that, some in uniforms that seemed to mark them as convention center staff or as security. Like outside, there were also animals here and there, although now they were all under careful surveillance by the uniformed ponies.
Twilight Sparkle trotted easily along past a concessions kiosk, a cutie-mark-spangled pannier at her side. Some of the ponies around her turned to stare or whisper to their neighbors, but that was nothing new for Twilight or for her viewers. When she approached a registration desk, the ponies on duty bowed their heads down almost to the table’s surface.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle, checking in,” she said pertly.
Your highness, we’re so glad you could make it,” said the dark yellow mare behind the desk, flipping through a book. “If you’ll sign on the line…?”
Twilight did so and was given a name badge on a lanyard, a booklet, and a personalized schedule. She dutifully put on the badge and floated the schedule before her, examining it. “I understand I’m supposed to meet with the head of the EOS?”
“That’s right—at four o’clock in the Executive Room. I know you declined a liaison, but I’d be glad to show you over there…”
“No need!” said a cheerful Twilight. “I’m sure I can find my way. Thank you very much!”
The smiling ponies at the desk nodded.
Static filled the screen. Now we were watching Twilight, Rainbow and Flutters as they sat reading through the event booklet on a bench near the top of an escalator. The ponies riding the escalator looked funny with their hindquarters up much higher than their forequarters or vice-versa. Some were confused, evidently never having ridden an escalator before.
“All right,” said Twilight, scribbling notes on a levitated scroll. “My meeting is at four and the keynote speech is at six. There’s a mixer at seven thirty, and then we have breakout sessions until ten.”
“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Rainbow, poking the schedule so hard her hoof was visible from the other side. “Daring Do is here! She’s presenting on her latest expedition in the jungles of Flutter Valley!”
“Then you’ll have to go to that, won’t you?” Twilight unwrapped the booklet from Rainbow’s hoof and kept reading. “I think I’m more interested in the lecture opposite, on the genesis of magical species.”
“That does sound pretty cool,” admitted Rainbow. “I wonder if I’m quick enough to go to both?”
“But that’s tomorrow,” Twilight continued. “Tonight we have… Hm. ‘Life As a Wool Sheep’… ‘Camera Hunting in the Griffon Kingdom’… and it looks like that team with the cockatrice is presenting at nine.”
Hmm,” mused Rainbow sarcastically. “Listen to some former wool sheep whine, or see a cockatrice in action?” She unfurled her wings. “Not a hard decision.”
Twilight was reading on. “Oh, Fluttershy! Tomorrow morning at eleven: ‘Taming the Orthros—the Route from Savagery to Domesticity.’”
Fluttershy peered at the booklet. “Really?”
Twilight was reading on. “This lecture looks interesting. ‘The Carnivore’s Dilemma: Dealing with Creatures with Contradictory Needs.’” Twilight frowned slightly. “And here’s one just called, ‘Treating Animals as Equals.’” She squinted and scanned the page. “That’s odd. These aren’t the sort of lectures I was expecting.”
“What do you mean?” asked Fluttershy.
Twilight lowered the booklet. “I was expecting this conference would be about cases of animal mistreatment, and how to prevent it. But from reading this program book, it looks like the real focus is more on… animal civil rights!”
Rainbow Dash blinked. “What’s the difference?”
“Well, on the one hoof, it’s good to protect the basic rights of animals as living beings. For example, this item—‘Compassionate Practice in Flea Circuses.’ It degrades everyone if we treat other living beings as our tools or playthings. But then on the other hoof… ‘Treating Animals As Equals’? A lot of these seem to be suggesting that animals should have the same rights people have.”
Fluttershy was now hovering just above floor level, peering at the schedule. “That’s… very interesting,” she said. “But why shouldn’t they have all the same rights we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “It’s just that this seems very different from the human animal rights movement that I thought this conference was inspired by.”
Rainbow’s out-of-whack eyes suggested she was confused by the issue. “Maybe you should ask about that in your meeting.”
“Good idea, Rainbow. I’ll ask Dame Claystone what goals she has for this conference. The EOS has official meetings scheduled for tomorrow and Sunday, so I’ll find out what sort of business they’re planning to address.”
Fluttershy landed lightly. “I think I’d be very interested in hearing the answer,” she decided.
The footage then sped up massively to the point that speech couldn’t be made out. The three friends buzzed around the escalator and then a colt in a propeller beanie came up to ask Twilight for her autograph, which she gave smilingly. The three then zipped off, leaving us to watch ponies speeding up and down the escalators.
Abruptly, the scene jumped to a room with a purple carpet and wood paneled walls. Rainbow Dash, now sporting a fedora with a press pass, stood in front of a table with a frowning purple earth stallion behind it. A sign reading “ANIMAL RIGHTS MIXER” was hung from the table, little silhouettes of butterflies and badgers decorating the corners.
“Let’s… meet the delegates!” said an excited Dash, peering into the camera.
The image wobbled out as if there were signal interference. It settled on a pale yellow unicorn with gold hoop earrings and an EOS badge standing near a refreshment table. She smiled carefully for the camera. “Hope Topaz,” she said, apparently introducing herself. “Representing the Unicorn Range.”
“So how’d you get into animal rights?” asked Rainbow Dash, now offscreen.
The delegate seemed slightly uncomfortable. “I’m not exactly into animal rights. I’m interested in preserving the integrity and majesty of Equestria, like the rest of my colleagues on the Range. We had to send someone to this conference, and I was available for travel.”
“Uh huh,” said Rainbow. “So what’re you hoping to get from this conference?”
She spoke in a self-conscious hush. “Mainly, I’m hoping to keep anything rash from happening. There are ponies these days who enjoy ascribing souls to everything they can possibly get away with.”
“Souls??”
“Yes! That’s how they try to change things. They want the public to believe that the likes of bears, wombats and alligators have souls, and once they have public sympathy, they’ll pass law after law protecting animal habitats. I expect that some of them genuinely believe in their cause, but many are only trying to stop pony development.”
“Stop pony development? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I expect you’ll be hearing quite a bit about it soon, Miss Dash. This whole issue of animal rights is a front for something far more insidious.”
“Really? What?”
“Ending our traditional way of life. Your friend Twilight Sparkle would do well to pay attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if the animal liberators had their sights set on toppling the monarchy itself.”
Rainbow was temporarily speechless. “Uh… really? Okay then, I’ll let her know. Thanks for your time!”
“My pleasure,” said the all too serious pale yellow unicorn.
Static cut to another corner of the mixer, and another EOS delegate, this one an amaranth-pink earth mare in a thick sweater. She looked nervously from behind the camera to the camera itself. “Hi. I’m Jennylope Aster.”
“And where are you representing?”
“Oh—the Hayseed Swamps. South of here.”
“And how did you get sent here?”
“Well, a cousin of mine is a conservationist. She studies lightning bug populations and is really worried about them running out of mating habitat, the more lights we ponies build. So since I’m on the Oversight Committee, I agreed to come and present her point of view.”
“Lightning bugs don’t like light, huh?”
“They do better when they can stand out.” She adjusted her dark red mane.
“Yeah, well they’re not the only ones!” said Rainbow. This got a chuckle from the delegate, followed by another static cut.
Now we were facing a dark bluish green earth stallion, tall and somber. “Penduluminus,” he said. “Pendulum for short. Representing the forest principality of Hollow Shades.”
“Pendulum. Sure. And how’d you get into animal rights?”
“I’ve always been interested in the nature of animals around us. As a foal, I watched chipmunks and ground squirrels living their lives, and it seemed to me they were capable of more than we gave them credit for.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Like communicating ideas. Chipmunks have several predators, and I noticed that they used different alarm signals for each. Since then I’ve been keeping abreast of animal communication studies. I’ve even contributed a few papers.”
“Radical,” said Rainbow.
“Somewhat,” said the stallion, tilting his head. “I am hoping that the way animals are regarded will change.”
“Like how?” asked Rainbow.
“For example, I believe they ought to be eligible for territorial claims. To protect their native land.”
“Wow. That really is radical. But I don’t know if it’s awesome.”
“Time will tell, I suppose.”
Once more the screen jumped, and now before us was a small pegasus mare whose blue coat was barely lighter than Rainbow’s own, a plate of hors d’oeuvres balanced on one forehoof. “I’m Clearscape, representing San Palamino,” she said cheerfully.
“And what’s your agenda for the conference?” asked Rainbow.
“Oh, I’ve got no agenda!” she replied with a slight twang. “I just expect big things are happening. We’re living at a rich time in history, and it’s a whole new world.”
“Why do you say that?”
She shrugged. “For starters, the return of Celestia’s sister eight years back! And the Crystal Empire six years back.” She turned to face the camera directly. “But mainly, aren’t I talking to a whole new world right now?”
“That you are!” affirmed Rainbow. “So you think this conference’ll bring changes for the animal kingdom?”
“It might, or it might not,” said Clearscape. “I just intend to be on the lookout.” With that, she popped a pinwheel roll into her mouth and chewed. With a fwoomp, the picture collapsed to a nocturnal shot of a Baltimare street corner under a maroon filter. Then came Fluttershy on the wharf, saying “hi” over and over in quick succession in a clip clearly edited from earlier. Last came a still drawing of Twilight in oil paints, looking confusedly from a shore toward the distant horizon with a question mark over her head. “Life in Equestria will be right back,” said her chipper voice.
Commercial break.
======================================
I looked over to the pony sharing my sofa, but I didn’t dare to cuddle. She looked back. We made the shared look as meaningful as we could.
I got up. Since she’d brought orange juice, I figured I should be the one to go and pour it. But as I was unscrewing the bottle, a glass floated over to me in a haze of electric blue.
I filled the glass, and it floated away again.
I poured some for myself and returned to the sofa, where Peach was sipping happily. “Have you got a straw?” she asked.
“Um… no. I don’t really have any use for straws. Sorry.”
“No problem. Just easier to drink that way.” She tilted the glass and took a bigger gulp. “You might want to get some if you keep having ponies over.”
I settled in again. “It’s just been you so far.”
She gave me a smile that might even have been coy. “So what do you think’s gonna happen?”
“In the show? Wow. I don’t know.”
“Do you think there’ll be a big fight? A huge screaming match?”
“Could be. That sort of thing always seems to happen at the big summits. Either a loud fight or a quiet one.”
“I feel like they’re setting up for it,” said Peach.
“Maybe? I don’t know—these shows aren’t as easy to predict as the FiM ones were.”
Peach didn’t reply. When I looked over, she was looking at me.
“What is it?”
“Is that true? Friendship is Magic was predictable?”
I tensed. “Well, I mean… yeah. It was a scripted show, for kids, with a happy little lesson at the end…”
“But it wasn’t just scripted!” she pointed out. “Sure, someone wrote the scripts, but it was real, too!”
Again, the weird feeling I always got when I remembered that. “Right…”
“So are you saying your people not only made mine simple and sanitized, but predictable, too?”
I got flustered looking for an answer. I knew ‘We didn’t make you’ would be met again by ‘You might as well have.’ “Well, if you think about it, part of the predictability is in where they chose to start and end the stories. Our writers edited your reality to be predictable, I guess.”
Peach pointed at the television. “Life in Equestria is edited, too. But you’re saying it’s not predictable?”
“Not as much, no.”
“Then why’s that? Is it because it’s ponies doing the editing, not humans?”
“I don’t honestly know. It could be.”
“And we’re just not as good at telling neat little stories about ourselves as humanity is?”
I considered. “Well, that’s possible. Maybe you’re our natural… story…”
“Fodder,” she finished.
“I was going to say, subjects.”
She resettled herself on the couch. “We should totally make TV shows or plays for foals about human life,” she decided. “See if it works both ways.”
That was an interesting idea. “Maybe it doesn’t work anymore, in either direction,” I suggested. “Maybe now that we know each other, the link is broken.”
Peach gave me a frightened, meaningful look. Then she jerked her attention back to the TV, where an oil painting of Twilight opening a message in a bottle, an exclamation point over her head, was on the screen. “Welcome back to Life in Equestria,” she said.
======================================
Again, a spastic montage of Flutter-’hi’s.
Then there she stood on a cement sidewalk barely lit by the rising sun, a street filled with picturesque businesses before her. “Good morning, Baltimare,” said Fluttershy in a voice filled with quiet compassion.
“Louder,” said Rainbow Dash’s voice from off camera.
Fluttershy took a breath. “Good morning, Baltimare!” Her voice was still quiet enough to be unheard by passersby.
“Louder!” said Rainbow again.
Fluttershy rolled her wingtips to her back and out again, centering herself. She inhaled deeply. “Good morning, Baltimare!!” she cried with enthusiastic abandon. It was still barely louder than a conversational tone.
Rainbow swooped before the camera. “Gooood moorrning Baaltimaaare!” she yelled, drawing glances from ponies in the background.
Scene cut. Now Fluttershy stood before a huge picture window. Behind it were large tanks filled with rocks, gravel and sand, but also with little props like flags, seesaws, ferris wheels and parallel bars. The tanks were also populated with crabs.
“Baltimare is world-famous for its performing crabs,” said Fluttershy. “This is Jumble Jack’s Harbor Crab Spectacular, one of the better known crab shows. As you can see, the crabs are resting now. But in a couple of hours, this boardwalk will be filled with ponies eager to see them perform their tricks.” Some of the crabs poked their heads up and seemed to listen while Fluttershy talked about them.
“Think we can get them to do a trick or two for us now?” asked Rainbow, again behind the camera.
“Well, I don’t know,” hemmed Fluttershy. “This is their time off, after all.”
“Come on, they’ve been resting all night. Just one little trick?”
Fluttershy spoke directly to the crabs and pointed to an apparatus in their tank. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but is there any chance we could see a little trick? There are so many ponies out there who I’m sure would love to see you perform.”
Her soothing wiles won over a trio of brownish red crabs. They scuttled to the nearest machines. Two climbed into spaces designed for them, each one’s eight legs gripping eight little thimbles, while the remaining crab in the middle silently used its pincer to turn a crank and made the apparati holding the others spin over and over. The revolving crabs, once upside-down, simultaneously let go with four legs each. Then they instantly let go with the other four legs and reinserted the original four, catching themselves from falling. They did this a few times in synchronization before the middle crab turned them right-side up again and the three took funny little bows.
“Whoa,” said Rainbow.
“That was very nice. Well done,” said Fluttershy.
“That was trippy,” said Rainbow.
“So there you have it,” said Fluttershy. “The famous performing crabs of Baltimare.”
But she was interrupted by a honking quack and a series of wingbeats. Bailey the duck arrived at the window and started pecking the glass. Fluttershy, surprised, grasped him in her forehooves and tried to calm him down. “Bailey! What’s gotten into you?”
The duck quacked through the glass, and the crabs started to rise from their slumber. They gathered before the duck and stood listening while Fluttershy kept trying to calm him down. “Bailey, please leave these crabs to their rest. They’re hard-working performers, you know.” She was met with a quack directly to her face.
“Hey. Nobody treats Fluttershy like that,” said Rainbow, and the camera turned suddenly away from the scene.
Then the window and the crabs were gone in a blur of static. Rainbow Dash stood in front of a huge pair of redstone walls opening toward her at a wide angle. “This is Fort Fairweather! It’s named for Admiral Fairweather, the tenth leader of the Wonderbolts! He got the Wonderbolts back into shape as a fighting force on top of being the world’s most amazing aerial acrobats!” By now Rainbow was off the ground, beating her wings. “And he served on the coast during the First Kraken War! By the time of the invasion of the land krakens, this fort was here to hold them off! Check it out!” The camera’s angle rose to reveal the corner of a bastion topped with beautiful green ivy, and Rainbow Dash rose with it. “It’s shaped like a star! That way each point of the star can protect the others next to it!”
Fluttershy’s voice was barely audible. “That reminds me of how some ponies think we’re the stars in Twilight’s cutie mark, and we all protect each other.”
Rainbow looked down, confused, but then acquired a big grin and pumped a hoof through the air. “Yeah! Like that! She zoomed down out of sight. Static.
Fluttershy stood delightedly in front of a gigantic flower whose petals waved lightly in the breeze. Its colors were electric red, green and blue, and it might or might not have been real. Around it were little concessions stands on a gravelly square.
“This is the Power Plant,” she explained. “It’s the most musical plant anyone’s ever discovered. It was a gift to Equestria from the Chancellor of Zebrica in the eighth century, and ponies still love to dance to it.”
“It doesn’t sound that musical,” said a skeptical off-camera Rainbow.
“Well, you have to get it started,” said Fluttershy softly. “But when you do, it lays down some really, really phat beats.”
“Phat beats??”
Fluttershy blushed. “Oh, they’re the phattest. Or so I hear.”
“What does that even mean?”
Fluttershy tilted her head. “It means that however pretty it is in the morning, you should see this place at night.” The camera panned over to a big unlit neon sign reading ‘Power Plant Live’.
Static.
Rainbow Dash stood atop a ship’s yard, a broad off-white sail open behind her. “This ship is called an argosy!” she shouted above the wind. “It’s widely considered one of the most awesome types of ships!”
She then flew to a higher sail, and the camera followed her. “These days it’s a museum and never goes anywhere, but it used to be a really important trading ship! They say some of the onion domes for Canterlot Palace came over from Saddle Arabia on this ship! And look how tall this mast is!”
Again she flew up, and now the camera rose to the very top sail, white clouds behind it. The camera shuddered shyly as it took in the crow’s nest.
Rainbow alighted on the mast’s pinnacle. “I think they call this sail the foretopskyscrapergallant,” she called down. “Or maybe it’s a toproyalmoonraker. Hey Fluttershy—come up here with me! The view’s great!”
“No thanks, Rainbow,” said Fluttershy, moving the camera slightly side to side. “I’m happier down here, where it’s safe.”
“Fluttershy, you do know you have wings, right?” Rainbow unfurled her own. “You kinda have to use ‘em to get up here in the first place.”
“I’m afraid of heights,” she protested.
“But why? What did heights ever do to you?”
“They’re just very high.”
“Fine,” Rainbow sighed, and pointed a wingtip downward. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable on that tugboat.”
Static. Fluttershy now stood on the prow of a red and brown tugboat as it bobbed in the waves. She looked supremely happy.
“So what should we know about this one, Flutters?” asked Rainbow.
Fluttershy puffed up her chest. “Tugboats are the cutest boats.”
Static.
Rainbow walked up a cracked street and looked dubiously at the tall, curled brown grass rising increasingly from the cracks. As the camera advanced, Rainbow walked carefully, avoiding little sprouts of different kinds growing all over the street. Eventually she reached a part so overgrown with foliage that a nearby carriage rolled by on the sidewalk instead.
“What’s the deal with all these plants?” asked Rainbow.
“I think we’ve reached the seedy part of town,” suggested Fluttershy.
Rainbow struck a disbelieving stance. “Seriously?!”
Static.
Fluttershy stood before the wall of a red brick stadium, staring at a tree branch extending out of a narrow window.
“So what’s in here, Fluttershy?” asked Rainbow, again out of sight.
She looked back. “This is the home of the world-famous Baltimare Orioles,” she imparted quietly. “They’re one of the very best avian a capella groups.”
“A capella?”
“It means singing without instruments. The orioles are an inspiration to me, Rainbow! I dream that someday my own birds will be able to sing like they do.”
“Oh yeah? What makes them so great?”
“Practice,” said Fluttershy decisively. She called through the window: “Little orioles! Little sweeties! Won’t you come out and sing something for us?”
She stood waiting, excited with anticipation, for several seconds. Then came wingbeats, and Fluttershy’s ears rose. But it was just Bailey the duck again, quacking up a storm. He dove through the little window. Fluttershy jumped back, then flew up to follow. “Bailey! Leave them alone!”
“That duck has issues,” said Rainbow Dash.
Static.
Twilight Sparkle stood at the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth. She noticed the camera and looked balefully at it. “Spike, no one wants to see me engaged in dental hygiene!”
“Sure they do!” said Spike. “Ordinary ponies want to know all the ways you’re just like them!”
But the shot cut immediately to Twilight pacing slowly in front of a hotel bed, trying on spectacles and ties.
“Why don’t you just wear your gorget and tiara?” asked Spike, still out of sight.
“This is an academic conference!” replied Twilight, aghast. “I can’t dress up like a princess for a conference. I have to look respectable!”
“But you are a princess,” insisted Spike. “That’s the whole reason you’re here! And princesses are respectable!”
Twilight hesitated, lowering a narrow pair of black frames. “Still. I don’t want to distract everypony’s attention.”
“Then why wear anything? Just go au naturel.”
Twilight frowned. “Did you learn that term from Rarity?”
“Maybe. Oh hey! You never said how your meeting went.”
Twilight looked at the camera. “It’s just like I was afraid it would be! I met with Dame Claystone, the head of the Equestrian Oversight Committee, and according to her, there are a lot of voices calling for a fundamental change in the way Equestria treats its animals.”
“Wow. Really? How come?”
Twilight continued fussing with accessories. “It’s all because of influence from Earth. Apparently Terran animals aren’t nearly as smart as Fimmish ones! When humans started interacting with our animals, they were bowled over by the difference.”
“Oh! Yeah, that seems kind of familiar,” said Spike. “That’s how they justify keeping them in big cages and killing them for meat, right?”
Twilight frowned, putting down her bow tie. “Well, it’s better than what dragons do. Do you remember all those slogans? ‘Might Makes Right…’”
“‘To the victors go the spoils!’” said Spike excitedly.
“‘Do not interfere in the affairs of dragons,” recited Twilight, “for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.’”
“I like that one!” said Spike. “Oh, and then there’s: ‘If animals didn’t want dragons to eat them, they shouldn’t be so darn tasty!’”
Twilight smiled, then frowned. “Exactly. The humans think our animals deserve better treatment than they give their own. Thus this conference.” She settled on a diminutive white tie and a white mortarboard, which she adjusted in front of a floating mirror. She tried out and rejected a monocle.
“But… but isn’t that… isn’t that…”
“Hypocrisy?” suggested Twilight.
“Yeah, hypocrisy,” said Spike.
“Well, perhaps. I guess it all depends on just how different their animals are from ours.”
“Ahh, they’re probably not that different,” said Spike. “I mean, how dumb could they be?”
A cut to black was followed by the sounds of a muffled crowd. We were then shown a conference room of ponies getting seated, Spike’s face peering into the camera. “We’re at a morning lecture,” he said. “This one I think is called, ‘Equestrian Rats in Terran Experiments’.”
The young dragon then settled down behind the camera again and focused on the ponies filing in behind the presentation table at the head of the room. Most wore white lab coats. There was a screen and an overhead projector. The camera panned over to Twilight, sitting two seats over from Spike. She looked nervous.
Back to the big table. The red earth stallion in the center, snappy in his lab coat, tapped his microphone and started things off, introducing the lecture, the scientists and the topic. He continued: “And so it seemed imperative that, sooner or later, we would have to do a direct comparison study of counterpart fauna from both worlds. Now, there were several obstacles in the way of such a project. To begin with, the transport of animals through the portals in either direction is highly restricted and requires several levels of oversight…”
The scene faded out, then faded back in on a different stallion, this one emerald green with a horn and a higher voice. “But because we have no established rat strains of our own, the question was whether it made sense to use a maximally random statistical sample from both our collection and theirs, or to attempt to replicate one of their strains through visible characteristics. Some consideration was given to the possibility of a rat breeding program here in Baltimare, but we eventually decided that, due to ethical concerns…”
Fade out. Fade in on a salmon-colored unicorn mare pointing to a picture of a wooden maze. “…while the Sprague-Dawley rats were unlikely to tread the same path twice, but showed no tendency toward creative problem solving. Indeed, as with most of the experiments we imported, the conditions of the maze were meant to minimize the possibility for creative problem solving, stripping the subjects’ choices down to a theoretical minimum in order to isolate effects. However, this didn’t prevent the Baltimare rats from employing such strategies as glaring at the researchers, gnawing at the joints between boards, and in some cases climbing the spaces between narrow walls, using their heads and tails for support on opposite sides, as shown in this photograph. When two or more rats were placed into the maze together, this technique…”
Fade out again. Fade in on a fourth pony, a silver-white pegasus stallion, talking while the screen showed a cage with two buttons hooked up to buzzers and tubes of food. “…pattern of button presses which later turned out to be a code that the rats were using to communicate while being held in different cages, although the exact content of the information communicated in not yet known. So once again, our observations fit the general pattern of consistent differences between our subject groups not just in quantitative measures, but in their qualitative reactions to the experiments. This was highly meaningful in itself, but we still wanted a quantitative comparison, so we decided to increase our safeguards, as you can see from the following arrangement…”
The camera panned slowly over the room to Twilight, who was sitting raptly on her chair, hind legs tucked under and forelegs straining to give her a better view. She was staring with her full attention at the lecture, but then she noticed the camera and her ear flicked. “Isn’t this fascinating, Spike?” she murmured.
In answer, the camera merely turned back slowly, slowly, to the presentation table. The screen now showed a drawing of a rat grinning gleefully while it pressed a button and delivered an electric shock to a surprised pony in a lab coat. “…which we took as our cue to wrap up the data gathering process and move on to the analytic stage,” continued the silver pegasus.
The scene then faded gently to a low wooden table in a large room, ponies wandering back and forth in the background, the hubbub punctuated now and then by the bleat of a goat. Fluttershy slowly slurped up noodles in sauce, one by one, while Rainbow Dash stabbed marinated vegetables with a fork and popped them into her mouth, and Twilight Sparkle rolled various ingredients together into a whole grain tortilla and enjoyed them with a happy sound.
“How was the lecture, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.
She chewed and swallowed a little too hastily. “I loved it! I’m not surprised the local rats were able to consistently outperform their counterparts from Johns Hopkins. But it’s impressive to what extent they simply operated on another level from them. It’s as if they were deliberately trying to thwart the researchers, while the Terran rats didn’t even show any comprehension that they were being mistreated, let alone form plans to do anything about it.”
Fluttershy sat lower on her seat. “I don’t like the idea of doing experiments on poor little rats.”
“Well, they let them go in the end. And it was all in the name of science, after all.”
“I suppose. But still. I can’t help thinking there might be a better way.”
Twilight sighed. “You may be right, Fluttershy. Maybe it is wrong to keep animals in captivity, even for the purpose of doing science. In fact, that may be exactly what the Society is planning to discuss.”
Rainbow Dash had been busily gobbling down food and smacking her lips through this exchange, but now she offered a suggestion. “If our animals are too smart for science, maybe we could just borrow some animals from Earth.”
“But even Earth animals still feel pain,” pointed out a stricken Fluttershy.
“Hm. Do they feel emotional pain?” asked Rainbow.
“Oh, yes. I’ve read stories.”
“Rats. Well, I guess there’s no more science then!” Rainbow turned to Twilight. “Sorry, Twi. But it had a good run.”
“There will always be science,” declared Twilight in a huff. “Even if it ends up taking magic to make it happen.” Pleased with herself, she packed another tortilla full of food and tucked it into her mouth.
A short line of ponies stood assembled before a pair of doors in what seemed to be an especially nice part of the convention center. Guards in military-looking saddles and dark glasses stood at attention while an off-white little stallion checked everypony’s credentials, one by one. Twilight’s rear end was visible in the foreground. As she advanced in line, occasionally flicking her tail, we were treated to a voiceover from Rainbow Dash, delivered in an increasingly excited hush as if she were crouched in a bush somewhere for a nature documentary.
“Our hero, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, advances toward the doors to the most important event at the conference: the official meeting of the Equestrian Oversight Society. Will they let her in? Or have her princess papers somehow been revoked? Is there a conspiracy to keep her out? And what dangers await her within? Was that crazy mare at the mixer right? Will the EOS try to undo everything the monarchy holds sacred?? Will it be up to Twilight to stop them?!”
At that point a guard started toward where Rainbow was presumably standing and the scene cut to static.
When it returned, the focus was different, as if a different lens were taking in the altogether too large meeting room. There was one big table with thirty or forty ponies around it… and a zebra… and, yes, that was a donkey. The ceiling was far too high and the walls were distant in every direction. A couple of smaller tables nearby seated what seemed to be miscellaneous staff, security and escorts, but the main table was on a dais, making it about three feet higher. We were watching from an angle even higher than that. Either the camera was on a crane or Rainbow Dash had amazingly stable aerial camera skills.
The gaunt blue-green stallion from Hollow Shades was talking. “There is much to be said for the concept of personhood. As I understand it, it doesn’t merely define a being’s capabilities, but also its place in society. Or rather, the title of personhood gives a being a place in society.”
“But don’t we confer that status of our own will?” suggested a light green unicorn in ruffles and pearls, her voice somewhere between affected and sophisticated. “Is there anything manifestly natural about that pairing of rights and abilities?”
“What are you saying?” asked the red-pink mare from the swamps, Jennylope Aster. “Are you saying we can decide which rights we want to give certain people and which ones we don’t?”
“I believe we can,” answered the fancy unicorn. “I don’t say we should.”
“If the concept of personhood makes us uncomfortable,” put in a blue earth stallion, “we can talk about citizenship instead. Equestrian citizenship comes with certain rights, and we could create a process…”
“For giving animals citizenship?” asked somepony.
“Well, for deciding which ones are worthy of it.”
“May I just interject?” It was the yellow unicorn Rainbow had called ‘the crazy mare’, Hope Topaz. “Why are we discussing this as if it’s been decided that something needs to change? Is there something broken about Equestria? And if not, may I suggest we consider the old saying, ‘If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it’?”
“‘If it ain’t broke,’ I think you mean,” corrected a yellow earth stallion with dusty orange hair.
Now a hammer’s rap broke through the voices. The mare at the center of one end of the table, a dark gray pegasus with a hint of red in her coat and a wavy mane of royal blue, rose to speak. She was Dame Claystone, according to her placard—the head of the society—and she wore an elegant formal gown. “It is true—we have not decided that any course of action need be taken whatsoever. Several of our number have brought forth grievances on behalf of our animal friends, but there has been no consensus. Perhaps we should take a vote to that effect presently.”
She then cocked her ears to the group, taking in the hubbub of murmurs and declarations that emerged. The ponies appeared to have no rules of order, save respect for one another and for the lady’s hammer.
“Very well,” said Dame Claystone. “All those who are currently inclined to make no reforms with respect to animal rights?”
Even those ponies who raised their hooves did so with hesitance. Hope Topaz was among them.
The dame nodded. “Those inclined to pursue reforms?”
There was still hesitance, but less, and the number of raised hooves was considerably greater.
Dame Claystone cast a look of acknowledgment across the table. In the middle of the other end sat Twilight Sparkle in her white mortarboard and tie; she had not voted.
“It would seem that some form of reform is most likely called for, unless our reformers’ wishes are in direct contradiction,” said the dame.
Murmuring followed for some moments, and the blue stallion was first to make his voice heard. “With respect to Mrs. Topaz, there is unrest in Equestria. It’s just that it’s often hard to know about, because we don’t communicate much with the animal populations.”
Jennylope Aster cut in. “But if they really were unhappy, surely they would communicate with us, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t we have some sign? For instance, lightning bugs are falling off. They have trouble finding places to mate, with ponies building so close and so bright. Frogs are having to squeeze into smaller spaces, too. True, they aren’t complaining, but I don’t think they know how.”
Hope Topaz tossed a lock of her hair dramatically. “Are we speaking of animals acute enough to be considered persons under some fringe theory, or are we speaking of the animal kingdom at large?”
“I think we’re speaking of both,” said Clearscape, the pegasus from San Palamino.
“But not at one time,” replied Hope Topaz. “If I’m to be swindled, I would like my swindlers to be consistent in doing so.”
“Now hold on, no one’s getting swindled!” interjected the yellow stallion with the western twang. “We’re here to talk this out neighborly. And what with this meeting and the one tomorrow, I’d say we’ve got plenty of time to discuss one thing at a time.”
“Where do we draw the line, anyway?” demanded a small stallion, his coat steely silver. “I mean, who are we to say, for example, that rabbits count as people but frogs don’t?”
The green forest stallion, Penduluminus, said: “It certainly isn’t a decision to be made lightly. We could watch and learn and judge… but we could be wrong.”
There was a brief pause. It was broken by the sole zebra, a gnarled stallion with a slow, commanding voice: “There was a time when cattle, goats and sheep had voices not, and minds that lay asleep. Does anyone recall what helpful force awakened them unto their proper course?”
A moment’s silence followed, as it seemed like it should. Then Clearscape spoke: “You don’t mean, like, ten thousand years ago, do you? You mean the more modern events that led to them having legal standing?”
The zebra nodded and a few ponies murmured agreement. “It was a case brought before Princess Celestia, I thought,” said someone.
“Yes, but before that it went before the Palamine High Court, and before that it was a local magisterium,” said a maroon unicorn in a baggy beret.
“And what did they decide?” asked Clearscape.
The maroon unicorn replied. “On the local level, the magistrate decided that non-equine ungulates were entitled to protections from harm, but not to the privileges of society, such as the ability to buy goods and services from businesses regardless of the will of the seller, or the guaranteed right to attend public events. To vote, and to run for office, and perhaps most notably, to receive a free education.”
For the first time, Twilight Sparkle spoke, and almost every head turned her way. “Why do you consider that the most notable part of the ruling?”
The bereted unicorn took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Because without equal education, there is little remedy for inequality in general,” he pronounced.
Several voices attempted to speak at once. Dame Claystone rapped her hammer and, with a gesture of her head, indicated who was to speak next.
It was the gnarled zebra. “They feared that education might do harm to keeping natural order on a farm. And they were right, except that nature’s order is more like rain, and less like brick and mortar.”
“Anypony else thinking we should’ve sprung for a Zebrican translator?” asked the stallion in the cowboy hat.
“I understand him,” said Clearscape. “He’s saying that there’s nothing innately natural about farm stock being beneath anyone else. Or that if there is, it can change, as nature does.”
“Nature does not change just because ponies say it does,” protested Hope Topaz.
The steel-silver pegasus spoke up. “What is nature, anyway? Isn’t it everything that isn’t done by people? So when we started thinking of the non-equine ungulates as people, didn’t the whole ‘natural order’ idea stop applying?”
The room’s sole donkey, a jenny with her mane colored in stripes, spoke up. “And before that, my own people had troubles. You might say they were the kind of troubles what come from not being counted as people. One way to see it, anyways.”
The blue earth stallion stood a little taller. “I believe in the right to education, but before all, I believe everyone has the right to know their rights. A lot of farm stock aren’t even aware they have the right to freedom, and there are farmers across this land, but especially in the Badlands, who are all too happy to let them think so.”
“Oh, come on,” said a violet earth mare.
“Is that really so?” asked the light green unicorn.
The blue stallion unfurled a scroll. “And that’s why I’ve written up this boilerplate text which I propose mandating all Equestrian farmers to read to their entire stock, twice a year. Whether they think the stock can understand them or not. It informs them that they have the right to leave at any time they wish; that they are not slaves; that they can refuse service to the farmer whenever they like, and that while the farmer has the right to dismiss them if they do, they cannot be forced to work against their will, and that the kingdom of Equestria will support them in all of these particulars should it come to it.”
There were numerous responses—a few ‘Hear, hear!’s and applause mixed in with cries of dismay. “That is blatant stirring of the pot!” exclaimed Hope Topaz.
“I can’t imagine my farmer friends doing that,” said the cowboy hatted earth stallion.
“I don’t know, it seems pretty fair to me,” put in the yellow one.
“You said all their stock, right?” asked a strawberry pink little pegasus. “Does that mean farmers wouldn’t be allowed to catch runaway dogs anymore? Assuming that any dog who runs away is just exercising their right to go free?”
“Not to mention escaped ladybugs,” added somepony out of sight, “and other animals farmers keep that couldn’t possibly know what they’re doing.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” cut in a voice.
“Are we debating whether insects are people now?!” shouted another.
Once more Dame Claystone rapped for order and nodded to the blue stallion with the scroll.
“It wouldn’t apply to insects, no… but look. I was just proposing a law that farmers have to read these rights. I wasn’t trying to decide how far they should extend.”
“Sounds like a matter for Celestia,” said Jennylope Aster.
“Shouldn’t we be careful that the text reflect the actual law?” inquired the professorial maroon unicorn.
“I only imagined it applying to hoofstock,” said the blue stallion, “but I wouldn’t object to a broader scope.”
“And to determine that scope,” said Penduluminus, “we still need a test of animal intelligence. That appears to be what it all boils down to.”
“When you say a test,” put in Clearscape, “do you mean the sort of things scientists carry out? Observing an animal to see how it reacts? Or do you mean… like, the animals would take a test?”
Penduluminus cleared his throat. “I should imagine any creature clever enough to understand the purpose of a personhood test would surely be a person.”
“I would advise you not to jump to that conclusion,” said the violet earth mare.
“Why, don’t you think understanding of abstract concepts is the essence of personhood?”
Another few voices jumped in with objections. Dame Claystone struck her hammer.
“It would appear that regarding the matter of civil rights, some kind of personhood test is called for,” she pronounced. “However, the nature of that test is something yet to be decided.”
“Doubt we’ll be able to agree on one,” said the brown stallion with the cowboy hat.
“I don’t actually have a proposal,” said Penduluminus.
“It’s the sort of thing you need scientists for,” said Jennylope Aster.
“It’s the sort of thing meant to bring chaos to our kingdom and topple our monarchy,” protested Hope Topaz.
“Then I know exactly who should design it,” said Clearscape.
For a brief span, there was silence.
“And that is?” asked the steel-colored pegasus.
Clearscape rose to her full petite height and turned to address everyone at once. “We need a test of personhood. We need someone to design it who understands ponies, and who understands scientific ideas like reliability and bias. We need an academic, preferably a scientist. Someone intelligent, with experience, preferably someone who’s traveled all over Equestria, and someone who cares intimately about the future of the country.” She glared at Hope Topaz. “And in order to belay accusations that the whole thing is just a plot to topple the monarchy, it would be best to choose someone with a strong interest in making sure that it maintains power.”
By the time she was done talking, an awful lot of eyes had turned toward Twilight Sparkle.
“What, me?” asked Twilight, rising. The little white tassel of her mortarboard swung in front of her face.
Clearscape smiled. “I was hinting at you, yes."
“I think that’s a swell idea!” contributed the yellow earth stallion.
“Given her reputation,” said the maroon unicorn, “I could hardly disapprove.”
Dame Claystone’s hammer rang out once, crystal clear. “Your highness,” she said, bowing slightly across the table. “Would you assent to creating such a test? It would be employed to determine who is, and who is not, a person for the purpose of local laws, and of course the monarchy would have the option of employing it on the national level.”
Twilight Sparkle stood in bafflement, her tassel still swinging. She blew it out of her face and remained in thought for a good fifteen seconds. “I can try!” she said at last.
There was applause, though there were also scowls and crossed forelegs. Dame Claystone retook the floor and called a vote. “All in favor of Her Royal Highness, the Princess Twilight Sparkle, designing a personhood test for our society on which we can vote?”
Plenty of forelegs cut through the air.
“All opposed to this measure?”
Legs, but fewer.
Dame Claystone set her front hooves before her and placed them neatly together. “We choose to prevail upon your kindness,” she told Twilight Sparkle with an elegant finality. “Will you have a recommendation for us by tomorrow’s meeting?”
“…Tomorrow?”
“It is quite possible that we will lack another opportunity to vote on this matter for an entire year, assuming this conference is reprised,” said Dame Claystone. “If need be, we can call a special meeting. Yet your highness perceives that if a test, or at least a recommendation for such, could be presented by noon tomorrow, it would be terribly convenient?”
Twilight nodded nervously. “Yes, of course. I’ll… do my best!”
“In that case,” said the Dame, “I propose a recess of a quarter hour, after which we will proceed to topics related to conservation. All in favor?”
A flurry of hooves went up. There was a swirl cut—a swirl cut—to what must have been the previous night’s mixer. The orange-haired yellow stallion from the meeting was smiling amiably at the camera.
“And you are?” asked Rainbow Dash’s voice.
“Aw, heck, you know me, Rainbow Dash!” he replied. “I’m your friend Applejack’s favorite cousin, Braeburn!”
“And you’re representing where?”
The stallion stood stock still for a second, then reared up. “AaaAaAaAAaaaa—”
His answer cut to an oil painting of Twilight Sparkle sitting under an apple tree, woozy with question marks from an apple just having bounced off her head. “Life in Equestria will be back after these messages,” said her voice.
======================================
“Oh, that was Braeburn?” I looked at Peach. “I remember hearing his name, but I didn’t know what he looked like.”
“You never saw his episode? The one with the buffalo?”
“Buffalo? No, must not have seen that one.” So that was why my Buffalo Bulls pennant had made her curious the first time she’d visited me.
Peach stood up. “Huh! Even I’ve seen all the episodes, and I already know what Equestria is like.”
I felt a little guilty. “Now that I have a pony friend, you think I should fill in all the episodes I missed?”
She went and rummaged through my cupboard, speaking all the while. “Well, think about it. It’s not just for a culture lesson. These shows are a phenomenon! For both our worlds. Sure, we have cities with similar names and similarities in our cultures and all these weird connections that make our worlds seem like puns of each other, but the show is where we really came together. For six years, a small group of human beings conceived of stories, wrote dialogue for them, came up with character and set designs…” She emerged from the cupboard with a pack of graham crackers I’d nearly forgotten was in there. “And what they created, down to the smallest detail, turned out to be exactly what really happened in my world. Are you getting what I’m saying?”
“I think so. You’re saying the connection between this world and yours is like a perfect storm of coincidences, and the show is at the heart of that storm.”
“Right. So everyone should watch it, even if they didn’t know or care about the show when you guys were making it. Even if you’ve never met a pony, or you’re a pony who’s never met a human and you never plan to, you should still watch the whole run, because this is something incredible and who knows when it could happen again.”
I pointed to the graham crackers she’d just stuck together with peanut butter. “You know, I use those crackers for pie crusts. I never just eat them for snacks.”
She sat down next to me. “Then you should thank me for giving you the idea.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For all your ideas.”
Peach looked uncertainly at me and bit her lower lip. It was obvious she was weighing the idea of saying something, so I put my hands neatly in my lap and looked at her eyes, in case it was something like, ‘I’ve decided I want you to be my boyfriend after all.’ But as she looked back, her uncertainty grew into a big self-conscious smile and she burst out chuckling. I had a pretty big grin by then myself.
“You know,” I observed, “it looks like this episode is turning out to be pretty neat and tidy after all. Twilight goes to a new place, she’s presented with a problem in the second act, and she probably solves it by the end.”
“Just as if it were written that way,” said Peach.
“More or less. And come to think of it, most Twilight Sparkle episodes work out about that way. So what does that prove?”
“Maybe just that editing is a powerful force.”
I grinned. “So Rainbow Dash was right, and post-production is magic?”
“Maybe just plain production is magic. Creation. Taking little parts and making something beautiful.”
I remembered playing with her electromagnetic erector set and sighed wistfully. “Or it could mean that your world really is built for stories.”
As she sat in consideration, a few strands of her tail touched my leg, though I couldn’t feel them through my jeans. “I’m not sure if I like that idea or not,” she eventually said.
“I like it,” I offered.
“Well, that’s easy for you to say,” said Peach, looking at me. “But you’re not the one who has to deal with being from there.”
I thought about how adrift I’d been feeling lately. “I kind of wish I were.”
Peach smiled a little. She was about to say something. But then came an oil plate of Twilight holding up a stack of apples in triumph, the word “EUREKA!” painted over her head, and we returned to Life in Equestria.
======================================
“—ppleoosa!” said Braeburn, crashing down to all fours.
The scene opened on another lecture room, slightly bigger than the first. Fluttershy sat hunched on a chair, listening shyly while a lecturer spoke. Bailey sat cuddled beside her with his own head raised attentively. On the other side, a young coral-colored pegasus gushed in a low voice, causing Fluttershy to look more and more embarrassed.
The excited pegasus leaned back to the next row of seats. “It’s Fluttershy!” she half-whispered. “It’s really her! The Fluttershy!”
Bailey leapt over, hovering in the face of the coral-colored pegasus and beating his wings loudly. “WAACK!” he shouted.
The fangirl cringed and pawed lamely at the duck before jumping down and hurrying away. “Sorry sorry sorry!”
Fluttershy loosened up a little and gave Bailey a grateful smile.
“Is there a problem?” asked the lecturer. The camera swung quickly his way.
“No sir,” said Fluttershy, too quietly to be heard at the front of the room.
“I’m sorry?”
“No, no problem!” called Spike’s voice.
The lecturer frowned and continued. Slowly the camera turned back to Fluttershy and Bailey, now sitting in contentment.
The footage went to black and white. We were then shown a series of black and white stills in quick succession, accompanied by jazzy rock and the sound of a camera taking pictures. Fluttershy, with Bailey on her back, gradually made her way through a long line in what seemed to be a food court. Then came a color shot of a stand whose sign cheerfully proclaimed, “Vegetable Rights!” And below that, in fine script: “Selling products made from naturally fallen vegetables since 932.”
The camera edged right to reveal a handful of ponies holding up signs. “VEGETABLES DESERVE OUR COMPASSION,” read one. “VEGETABLES HAVE RIGHTS TOO,” read another.
“Are you kidding me?” asked Spike, presumably behind the camera. “Vegetable rights? What’s next, gem rights?”
“I think it’s admirable,” said Fluttershy. “All those ponies standing up for what they believe in. I… I may have to reconsider where I get my vegetables.”
“I suppose now it’s cruel for Applejack and her family to buck their trees for apples,” japed Spike.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Fluttershy, looking uncertain. “The trees are strong, and they can take it. Apples are fruits, after all. I think it’s more that they don’t approve of growing vegetables just so they can be eaten.”
“Well, gems occur naturally,” said Spike. “At least, the good ones do. I’ve tried some of those synthetic gemstones from Las Pegasus, but, ewww. Would not eat again.”
The footage went back to black and white, and in a series of stills we saw Fluttershy advance to the front of the line and point to the words “HAPPY DOG” on the stand’s exterior. Next came Fluttershy and Spike happily holding carrots in buns, each ‘happy dog’ adorned with pearl onions, alfalfa sprouts and pimentos arranged in the shape of a smiling face. The final still showed them happily eating them. The background music blared to a close.
Now, again in color, Spike and Fluttershy sat on either side of a hassock, playing cards. Sofas sat to either side of them, unused except for a pile of what must have been Spike’s camera equipment. Ponies passed by in the background as we approached.
Twilight Sparkle walked up, removing her necktie and hat and casting them magically aside. “There you are!”
Fluttershy and Spike looked up. “Is everything okay, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.
“Not really!” said Twilight. “They gave me homework!”
Spike stood up. “But…but I thought you liked homework.”
“I like it when Celestia gives it to me! But this is different. This is important, and real!”
“Is there any way we can help?” asked Fluttershy, setting down her cards.
“Yes. You can do a survey of the ponies at this conference. Ask them what they think it means to be a person. And if you have time, ask them what rights they think all persons ought to have, and how one can tell whether a given individual or species is worthy of those rights.”
Fluttershy was aghast. “…Really?”
“Wait,” said Rainbow Dash’s voice. “Now you’re giving us homework?”
“Well, I am a princess,” said Twilight.
Fluttershy stood proudly and raised her wings. “I’ll do what I can!” she decided. Spike reached out to sneak a peek at her cards, and the scene lost its vertical hold and went blurry.
When it came back, we were looking at Rainbow Dash’s face from a weird, low, diagonal angle. “All right,” she said. “We’re gonna start by interviewing each other.”
The shot cut out with a burst of noise. Now Spike stood in front of a balustrade, enjoying a lime green sucker. “What is a person?” he repeated. “Huh. I guess it’s someone you can talk to. Someone you can care for, and who can care for you.”
“Is it enough you can talk to them?” asked an off-screen Rainbow Dash, “or do they have to talk back?”
“Oh, well they’ve got to talk back.” Spike sucked his sucker with a pop. “Or at least you’ve got to have some way to understand them.”
“What if they say stuff, but it’s only dumb stuff like ‘Arf arf’ or ‘Meow’?”
Spike frowned. “Well, I guess that’s not really saying something. Unless it is?”
“Maybe it is! Maybe it’s saying stuff like, ‘Someone’s here!’ or ‘Look out, I’m about to jump on your head!’”
Spike sucked his sucker again and swirled the juice around in thought. “Then I guess maybe cats and dogs really are people.”
“So should they have all the same rights we do?”
“Sure, I guess! What’s the harm? Just so long as we can punish them if they do something really dumb.”
“Do you think they would?”
He shrugged. “Probably. I mean, who doesn’t?” With that, the young dragon crunched his sucker to bits, savoring the shards.
Fluttershy stood outside on the plaza, the convention center rising to one side behind her. There was a hubbub of carts, ponies and birds in the background.
Rainbow’s voice. “What do you think a person is, Fluttershy?”
“A person is a very special kind of creature,” she replied. “Not only do people change the world around them, but they think complex thoughts and make plans and develop traditions.”
“And animals don’t do any of that?”
The yellow pegasus shied away slightly. “Well, not as much.”
“Not as much?” moaned Rainbow. “So how much have you got to do all that stuff before you’re a person?”
Fluttershy thought about this. “I’m not sure, Rainbow Dash. But I’ll just say this: I can always tell a person from an animal. Animals are more innocent.”
“What about Angel? You can’t try to tell me he’s innocent.”
“It’s true, Angel can be a hoofful. But we have to forgive him when he makes trouble. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Fluttershy stood looking earnest for a few moments before the scene jumped again.
Now Rainbow was in front of the camera near what seemed to be one of the convention center’s upper windows.
“So what you do think, Rainbow?” asked an off-camera Spike. “Is Tank a person?”
Rainbow, who had looked confident and ready for a question, was caught off guard. “Tank?! Well… no, I mean… he’s a cool guy and all, and loyal to a fault, but he’s not really a person.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I mean, he’s just a tortoise. He doesn’t really do anything except be there when I need him, and walk around, and eat, sleep, and practice his flying.”
“Well, aren’t there some ponies like that?”
Rainbow scrunched her face in thought. “Yeah, I guess I knew a few folks like that in Cloudsdale. I mean, I take naps so I can be ready for whatever life throws at me.” She jaunted herself dramatically to one side. “They take naps so they can be ready for more naps.”
“So are those pegasi not really people?”
Rainbow slowly straightened up. “I dunno, that seems harsh. I mean, they’re still living in cloudhomes and sometimes people visit. So, you know, they’re part of civilization.”
“So is that what makes someone a person? Being part of civilization?”
Rainbow smiled. “Yeah, I guess. After all, you’ve gotta play to win, right?”
Cut to Bailey, standing on the concrete plaza near a bench and staring at the audience.
“So Bailey,” said Rainbow’s voice. “What do you think makes someone a person?”
The duck spread his wings to their full breadth and stood on tiptoes. “BWAAAAAH!!” he said.
Cut to static.
Again we wound through the convention center, but this time from a low elevation. Thick crowds lay before us. We were greeted by Spike’s voice: “So right now it’s between events. Lots of ponies are out wandering now and I’m going to interview them.”
We came up to a knot of protesters armed with a megaphone, giant pictures of sad-looking animals, and signs reading “FULL ANIMAL RIGHTS NOW”. We angled toward them, then away again as if Spike had lost his nerve, and then back toward them again.
Now we were talking to a yellow earth mare with a recycling symbol for a cutie mark.
“So, do you think of animals as people?” asked Spike.
“Of course not,” said the protester. “But why should that matter? Animals have feelings, and anyone with feelings deserves to be treated as the equal of anyone else with feelings, whether we call them people or not.”
Spike apparently couldn’t resist. “Does that mean a dragon is equal to a pony?” he asked slyly.
“It does. Dragons and ponies are different, but we all share the same standing in an ideal society.”
“Does that mean you think dragons should get to compete in ice archery tournaments?”
She looked uneasy. “Well, not if they use fire to cheat.”
“But asking a dragon not to use fire on ice is like asking a bird to fly without using its wings!”
She laughed, cracking her hard facade. “I doubt that! But every sport needs its rules. We all have to follow the same rules, regardless of our physical capabilities.”
The scene crossfaded to a new pony in the same crowd, a dark brown pegasus mare with green hair. “Do you think animals should have the same rights as ponies?” asked Spike.
“I do not!” she said in a sprightly voice, flaring out her wings. “It would be senseless. If you have rights, you’ve got to have responsibilities, and if we give animals responsibilities they don’t understand, we’re just asking for trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
She smirked. “Well… imagine a team of guards arresting every single locust in a field for theft of property.”
Spike snerked. “Sounds ridiculous.”
“And imagine all those locusts getting their rights read to them, and being given trials, and getting sentenced to things they can’t do, or else getting put in jail and ponies having to care for them.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. But they wouldn’t really give rights to locusts, would they?”
The brown pegasus shrugged. “Where do you draw the line?”
“So you don’t think we should give rights to any animals?” asked Spike.
“I think we’ve already done what we should do. Goats and sheep got full standing a couple generations ago, and that was overdue. This new wave of argument is just because of well-meaning Terraners with no idea of how things really are here.”
“So you don’t think the humans have a point?”
The pegasus looked down just past us, her eyes focusing smugly. “You know, they have child labor laws on Earth. If we did everything the way they want us to, a fifteen-year-old dragon like you wouldn’t be allowed to go around working on a TV show.”
The camera jerked a little. “I… I wouldn’t?”
She smirked. “Of course not! You’d have to be sixteen!”
“What? But… but I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months!”
“Sure. So you tell me—does that rule make any sense?”
The camera’s focus blurred, freezing the brown mare’s face with one scampish eyebrow raised. A foreboding musical snare played before the scene jerked out.
The focus unblurred on a forest green earth stallion with dark orange hair who spoke with a light voice and a funny accent. “Honestly? A true person is someone with a destiny. And our haunch marks are the proof of that.” He stepped a hind leg forward to display his cutie mark: a snare made from a bent sapling.
“Wait,” said Spike. “Are you saying anyone without a cutie mark isn’t a real person? Including me?”
“Not needfully. Magic has many ways of reifying destiny. Dragons are highly magical beasts, are you not? You may well have destinies in your own form.”
“Well maybe. But Twilight always says it’s a treasure to get to make your own future.”
“Perhaps. What I am confident of is that the likes of donkeys and bison have no destinies. They are living puppets, taught to act like true people, but in their hearts they are not.”
“Wow. You don’t think even donkeys are people? But we have a donkey couple living in my home town! Sure, they’re a little quiet, but they do things with us, and they act more or less like anyone else.”
“Mimickry is a powerful force,” said the green stallion. “And you did ask my honest opinion.”
Another jump cut left us facing a blood red unicorn stallion with fancy embroidered barding. “What is a person? Someone with the capacity for great joy, and also for great pain. The animal ego is simple, instinctive. Less developed.”
“Um. But what about animal mothers, crying for their babies when they get taken away? Isn’t that great pain?”
The stallion took a crooked step forward and winked. “Believe me, that’s nothing compared to the pain a person can feel.”
The camera’s angle staggered. “Uh, okay!” said Spike. “Thanks for your time!” The red stallion frowned as the scene cut out.
Next came a very light gray pegasus mare with blue earrings. “I would say what separates us from the animals is our grasp of complex concepts,” she expounded carefully. “The ability to reason.”
“Okay, but how complex is complex?” asked Rainbow’s voice. “I mean, I don’t really think of goats as complex thinkers, but we think of them as people.”
“Well, it was established some time ago that goats have their own language! So it was quite right to grant them full citizenship. I believe scholars have established the same for most antelope families, and I expect it won’t be long before they’re recognized as people as well.”
“What about beavers? Don’t they have their own language?”
“Yes—bears, beavers, crows and a few other species appear to have languages capable of expressing complex thoughts. I would be in favor of extending rights to them, although many would disagree.”
Jump cut. We now faced a small mud-colored earth stallion in a neat suede jacket. “A person? Everypony knows what a person is. One of the great races. Ponies, zebras, donkeys, dragons, griffons, and so on like that.”
“So…” said Rainbow slowly. “You think only the people who we already think of as people should be people?”
“I don’t really see what you’re asking. As I said, it’s something everypony already knows.”
Jump cut. A thick crowd wandered along a broad hallway, talking excitedly. At the heart of it strode a lean yellow pegasus with a green denim explorer’s coat, exuding chutzpah.
The camera’s angle rose jerkily into the air. “Daring Do!” shouted Rainbow’s voice. “Hey Daring! What makes a person a person?!”
The explorer looked over, surprised. “Is this a riddle?” she yelled back.
“Sure, if you want it to be!”
The yellow pegasus slowed her pace, and the murmuring crowd slowed with her. “The willingness to do what has to be done!” she eventually decided. A hearty cheer rose from some of her entourage.
The camera continued to bob. “So… a coward isn’t really a person?” asked Rainbow.
“Not yet,” said Daring Do. “Not until they take their chance!” With a second cheer, the adoring crowd hoisted her onto their backs and carried her away in a cloud of ponies. Her voice cut through once more: “Wait, that wasn’t right, was it? What’s the real answer?"
But another jump cut left us staring at a pair of unicorn foals in Baltimare Orioles caps with tiny pinwheels sticking up. Both grinned hugely at the camera.
“The question is: What do you think a person is?” asked Rainbow.
The yellow filly crept forward. “I don’t know, but I do know what a happy person is!”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“A happy person is someone who’s just been asked what a person is by Rainbow Dash! Of the WONDERBOLTS!!”
“Rainbow Dash!!” added the equally exuberant red-orange colt.
“Uhh… well to be fair, I’m back on the reserves these days.”
“Is it true you helped save the Crystal Empire? By jousting??”
“Yeah, and did you really do a Sonic Rainboom at Princess Cadance’s wedding?”
The foals were grinning creepily large grins and stepping closer. Their pinwheels were spinning for no obvious reason. “Uh, no, pretty sure that was some other Rainbow Dash,” said Rainbow hastily. “I should be going.”
The camera turned around and started to move. “And is it true that you rescued Daring Do from a temple of lava?”
“And is it true that y—”
Jump cut. Now we faced a husky warm brown earth mare in a fashionable harness. “What is a person?” she mused. “Well, it’s folks. I mean, what are you really asking?”
“Well,” said Rainbow, “the real question is, how do we know who should have rights, and who shouldn’t?”
The large mare chuckled, sitting down on the tile floor. “Well if that’s your question, you should put it like that to begin with, shouldn’t you? The whole ‘what’s a person’ thing just muddies the issue. ‘Person’ is just an idea, and if an idea starts getting hard to use, you don’t gotta keep using it!”
“Then what should we use?”
She tapped her head. “Our brains. We oughta use the noggins we were born with to decide whether some group of whoever oughta have some particular right. Take it case by case. Ask yourself what the consequence would be, and make the decision according to that.”
“Wouldn’t that be a lot of work?”
“Well, yes, honey, it’d be a lot of work. It’s bound to be.” She scooted forward, as if in confidence. “But this is a big issue we’re discussing here, isn’t it? Isn’t it worth taking the time to get it right?”
An abrupt cut to black, followed by silence.
Twilight Sparkle sat on a low wooden booth across a table from a familiar figure. It was the erudite maroon unicorn from the society meeting. He’d taken off his beret and put it on the table. Glasses of water sat before both.
Twilight turned to look at us. “So! For the viewers, this is Vellum Crux, professor of law at Vanhoofer University and the Vanhoofer delegate to the EOS.”
He leaned in toward us and gave a little wave. “Hi.”
“Professor, you took part in the discussion earlier today on whether and how to grant personhood rights to animals. But that was a large group, and not everypony had a chance to share their opinion. What are your thoughts?”
The unicorn took a moment to gather himself. “Well, I have quite a few! As you’ve gathered, this is a complex issue. To begin with, I think it’s right that we should look back to the closest historical example we have available, the 941 ruling on the legal status of goats, sheep, cattle, moose, llamas, alpacas, vicuñas, and yaks.”
“Oh! Was it really that broad?”
“It was when Celestia ruled, though not in the Palamine case. We tend to forget that in many cases, such as this one, the fate of the minor races was entwined with that of the more familiar ones. That was often due to Celestia’s personal initiative, since she expressed the desire to decide related cases all at once and have it done with.”
“She didn’t want to leave anyone out,” mused Twilight.
“Except that, of course, she did,” said Vellum Crux. “The entire antelope subfamily was excluded, as were deer and giraffes. Notes later officially released from the Sun Court revealed that she had originally intended to include them as well, but moved away from her position for some reason.”
“Huh!” Twilight was leaning on the table, fascinated. “Was there any sign of why?”
“There were reports of the royal antelopologist visiting the palace. Perhaps she shared a less than flattering analysis?”
“That suggests that a test may have actual royal precedent,” said Twilight thoughtfully. She leaned on the table in silence for a while. “I suppose I could just ask her.”
“I wasn’t going to presume. Do you have any way to contact her by tomorrow?”
Twilight gestured over toward the camera.
“Ah, yes,” said the professor, looking over. “Of course.”
“Hi,” said Spike’s voice.
“I was actually hoping to solve this on my own,” said Twilight, “but you’re right. Legal precedent is important here, and it was less than seventy years ago—there’s a good chance she’ll remember her reasoning.”
“So you’ll write to Celestia.”
“I suppose I should! But let’s talk about this further. Our wine isn’t even here yet.”
The professor settled back and smiled. “Was there any particular angle you wanted to discuss?”
Twilight leaned forward, engrossed. “Well, you did bring up the importance of free education as being fundamental to all other rights…”
“Ah yes! What I meant was that if an individual or cultural group within a species is educated to less than its potential, it may give the appearance of being insufficiently sophisticated to warrant other rights.”
“And yet!” Twilight jumped in, shifting forward until she was halfway on the table. “That may paradoxically in itself lead to that individual or group being denied the right to further education, which is exactly what it needs!”
“Precisely!” said Vellum Crux. “And therefore, unless one can develop a test for raw intelligence regardless of education level, the right to education must be unbundled from the other rights!”
At that point, a waiter showed up with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Twilight licked her lips, then turned to look just past us. “You can turn the camera off now, Spike. This discussion may be getting… technical.”
As the waiter proceeded to pour the wine, the image collapsed to a single point, and the screen went black.
Suddenly we were looking at a hotel room, our view careening from one side to the other. Clothes and small items were scattered across the floor, and Fluttershy was holding Twilight back, her wings beating hard to keep her aloft. Twilight was swinging her front hooves fiercely at an open duffel bag on the bed, her eyes burning with anger.
“You’d better give her the punching bag, Spike!” shouted Rainbow’s voice. Spike, who was looking on in shock, hurried over to pack the duffel bag full of soft things, including a sheet from the bed. When he zipped it up and stood back, Twilight tore loose from Fluttershy’s grip and threw herself at it. She punched it across the room, upsetting a clock and a day planner.
The camera followed Twilight as she pummeled the bag around the room, tossing it and knocking it out of the air. “That prabbling, silver-tongued, deceiving presumptious prig!” she yelled. “Dissembler! That shameless, smooze-headed slime-spined flirt!”
The flying duffel nearly hit us, but we zoomed aside in time to dodge. “Twilight!” shouted Rainbow. “Pull yourself together!”
“Please calm down, Twilight,” pled Fluttershy.
“He was married! He was married the whole time!”
“He never said he wasn’t!” protested Spike.
“He did with his eyes! With his tone, with his words…” She hurled and whacked the duffel bag again, this time knocking books off a shelf.
Rainbow Dash flew out from behind the camera. “I’m gonna hold it steady for her! Better than smashing up the room! Twi, look, I’ve got the punching bag, I’m holding it for you!”
Twilight gathered her strength and threw back her wings, literally flying into the duffel bag while Rainbow clutched it. The screen went black a moment before a loud crash.
We returned to a sitting area in front of a huge window looking out on the Baltimare sunset. A scroll was spread over a wooden coffee table. Twilight paced nervously beside the window while Spike sat in silence.
“Spike, take a letter.”
The dragon dipped his quill in an inkwell. “On it.”
Twilight eventually stopped pacing. “Dear Celestia. Baltimare has been lovely. The sights, the atmosphere, the ponies.” She hesitated while Spike wrote. “Spike, can you underline ‘ponies’? But do it in a dark way, so it looks like I’m being sarcastic.”
“Dark… underline. Check.”
Wash cut to a dozen ponies around a table in a small meeting room, a lively discussion in progress. A large sheet of paper covered the table, itself covered with a complicated web of words, shapes, and drawings of animals. Twilight was there with her narrow glasses, pointing and saying things that couldn’t be made out above the clamor.
Next to her, Spike suddenly went puffy-cheeked and belched out a scroll in a cloud of green smoke.
Twilight looked at him in alarm. She seized the dragon with her magic and dragged him toward the door. “Sorry folks, I’ve got to take this.”
Now out in the hallway, Twilight paced as she read, Spike following behind. “My dearest Twilight Sparkle. I’m so glad that you’re enjoying your duties as royal representative to our kingdom’s first animal rights conference.” She paused. “Celestia never gets sarcasm in my letters, does she?”
“Maybe she’s being sarcastic too,” suggested Spike.
Twilight read on. “…hope that while you’re there… pleased that you’re taking your role seriously… not surprised that the society blah blah blah… all right, here we are. The case you refer to has crossed my mind frequently in the intervening years. My reason for not extending a full suite of legal rights to the antelopes was simply that I knew of no antelope within the borders of Equestria desirous of making a legal claim. Those few antelopes in our kingdom tended to be nomads or visitors, and I of course had no jurisdiction over the antelope homelands to the far south. It was my thought to be conservative, not expansive, with my ruling to the extent that in doing so I was not depriving any worthy persons of property or protection.” She paused for thought.
“What does that mean?” asked Spike.
“It means my mentor isn’t any help,” groused Twilight. She scanned through the rest of the scroll. “Yep. She seems to have granted rights to these species just because they seemed obviously ‘worthy’ to her. So, no precedent at all, unless we want to make every individual who wants to be considered for personhood go petition Celestia. And she won’t have time for that!”
“Oh. Sorry to hear. Yeah, that does sound a little messy.”
“Or,” continued Twilight as she walked, “we could limit personhood rights to being granted on a species by species basis. But then if you get an outlier, an unusually intelligent individual, they could petition Celestia and their whole species would be given personhood and that would lead to improper treatment for the rest of them!”
“So we need a test,” said Spike.
Twilight stopped abruptly. “Yes we need a test, that was the whole point of this! But what? What can people do that nothing else can?”
“…Get worked up over stuff like this?” suggested Spike.
Twilight glared back at him. “…Sufficient, but not necessary,” she concluded. “I’m going to go watch those interviews.” She glanced back at the camera. “Get ‘em queued up, Rainbow.”
There was a slow fade in on Twilight, sitting in her still disheveled hotel room, looking weary. “Well, I just finished watching the interviews,” she told the motionless camera. “There were almost fifty of them, on top of the survey Fluttershy did, and they were all over the map! And I’m really no closer to devising a test than I was an hour ago.” She looked out the window, black as night. “And it’s almost midnight! What am I going to tell the EOS tomorrow?”
“Aw, come on, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash, bouncing lightly on the other bed while lying on her belly. “You mean we did all that interviewing for nothing? You must have had some sort of opinions while you were watching, right?”
“Well, sure. Some of those perspectives were more insightful than others.”
“So were any of them right?”
“Well… I suppose the perspective I’m most sympathetic to is the idea that speech is tied to personhood, because it’s the best vehicle we have for abstract concepts. But my mind just keeps going back to Celestia’s letter, and how, for her, the only real way of knowing if someone was a person was to meet them.”
“Do you really think that’s the only way? To give everyone who wants rights an appointment with Celestia?”
“Or with me,” Twilight groaned, putting a pillow over her head.
“Sounds like a lot of work.” Rainbow stood up on the bed, making it spring further down.
“Exactly. It would be a logistical nightmare,” she moaned. “But it just might be what I have to tell them!”
Rainbow bounced a little in place. “Ahh, well maybe you and the big C could train someone to do it for you. Someone you trust to judge, so you could keep doing princess stuff.”
Twilight set aside the pillow. “Yes, that’s a good point,” she admitted. “But I’d still want to have a set of training guidelines I could show them by tomorrow.”
There was a gentle knock on the door, followed by a louder one.
“Come in?” said Twilight.
Fluttershy meekly entered the room. “I hope you don’t mind. But Bailey wanted to come up and see the suite.” Bailey the duck followed after, taking a look around. He let loose a ‘waack’ and flew up and out of sight.
“You brought your duck into our hotel room?” asked Rainbow in annoyance. “What if he messes something up?”
Fluttershy gave Rainbow a look. “I think we’ve already given this room a bit of a workout.”
“Oh yeah. The whole duffel bag thing. Well, whatever.” Rainbow slumped down on the edge of the bed, tilting it so far down that her nose nearly touched the floor before bouncing back up.
Twilight was looking up past the camera. “An outlier,” she murmured.
“What’s that, Twilight?” asked Fluttershy.
“Your duck. He’s a statistical outlier, isn’t he? Would you say Bailey is remarkably more intelligent than most other ducks?”
“Well,” demurred Fluttershy. “I wouldn’t want to put anybody down.”
Twilight glanced at the camera. “Will you give your honest opinion if we promise to edit it out?”
Fluttershy nodded quietly.
The scene jumped slightly. Twilight’s belly was now before us as she reached upward. “Bailey! Will you come down and answer some questions?”
The duck flew down to Twilight’s bed. Twilight returned and sat down facing him. He lifted his wings halfway and kept the pose.
“Please be cooperative, Bailey,” said Fluttershy.
The duck folded his wings.
“Bailey?” asked Twilight. “Do you understand me?”
“Waack.”
“Please nod if you do.”
He stood looking confused. Twilight nodded her own head in illustration, and Bailey did the same.
“But is he just mimicking me,” wondered Twilight, “or does he really understand?”
Rainbow jumped off her bed. “Here, let me. Bailey? Can you turn around?” She spun around in place to show the duck.
Bailey stiffly turned around on his webbed feet.
“But again,” said Twilight. “Does he really understand, or is he just mimicking?”
Rainbow was undaunted. “Bailey, this time, don’t turn around.”
Bailey just stood there.
“Okay, now don’t not turn around.”
After a hesitation, the duck turned around in place.
“Now I want you to not, not, not, not, not, not turn around!” Rainbow grinned.
Bailey’s wingfeathers curled in at the ends, one by one, as if counting. Eventually, he turned once more in place.
“He does understand!” exclaimed Twilight.
Bailey nodded enthusiastically.
“Oh, Bailey,” said a slightly sad Fluttershy. Quiet inspirational music started to play, unheard by anyone present.
Twilight resettled her wings and scooted forward to face the duck from inches away. There was a heavy stillness. “Bailey?” asked the alicorn. “Would you like to legally be considered a person?”
Bailey beat his wings and nodded several times.
“Are you sure? It’s a big decision. You won’t be able to get away with everything you do now. You’ll be held responsible for your choices.”
Bailey was more subdued now, but he nodded.
Fluttershy let out a sob. “Bailey!”
Twilight looked over at her. “It’s what he wants, Fluttershy. It may even be why he made this trip in the first place.”
Fluttershy walked over. “I’d like to hug him… just one more time, if I may.”
“Fluttershy!” interjected Rainbow. “It’s not like he’s going away. You can still hug him after he’s a person.”
“I know,” murmured Fluttershy. “But it won’t be the same.”
Bailey turned to her and opened his wings for a hug. Fluttershy draped her forelegs over them and brought her head down to his. They hugged for a good ten seconds.
Then Fluttershy stepped back and wiped away her tears.
“Bailey of Ponyville,” said Twilight solemnly. “I now declare you a person and a citizen of Equestria, by royal decree, with all of the rights and responsibilities attached thereto.” She lowered her head until her horn touched Bailey’s forehead. There was no spark of magic, but Rainbow Dash started clomping the floor in applause.
“Woohoo! Go Bailey!”
“Go Bailey,” whispered Fluttershy. “Yay.”
Bailey lifted his head as high as he could and spread his wings in triumph. The inspirational music crescendoed and the scene fell dark.
Now it was quiet. All we could see was the edge of a mattress; all we could hear was Twilight muttering to herself in the mostly dark room. The camera rose to reveal her scribbling on a piece of parchment set among many others, lit by candlelight.
“Example. Turn to your left. Turn to your right. Do not turn to your right. Example. Turn and present your left leg. Turn and present your right wing. Turn and present your head.” She paused in her writing to take a deep breath. “Wow,” she reflected. “This really is what it’s all about.”
Then she happened to turn her head in the camera’s direction and her reverie turned to anger. “Spike! It’s way past your bedtime!”
The camera switched off.
Blackness resolved into the inside of a closet. Rainbow Dash held the camera up to her own mischievous face. “It’s seven in the morning,” she whispered. “Fluttershy is still out there talking to Bailey. Did they even sleep?”
She crept from the closet and covertly turned the camera to capture the pegasus and drake where they sat together on a blanket on the floor. Fluttershy was speaking softly and slowly.
“For that matter, is it true what Twilight said? Did you come all this way just because you hoped you could become a person?”
Bailey moved his head from side to side.
“But then why?” wondered Fluttershy. “Was it to see the sights?”
He shook his head.
“To be near the ocean?”
His shoulders tensed, but he shook his head.
“Was it to be where the action was?”
He shook his head.
“Was it to help other animals?”
Bailey nodded.
Fluttershy’s cheeks flushed. “It was?” She considered. “Did you want to help the other animals stand up for their rights?”
Bailey nodded and lifted one wing.
Fluttershy sat back. “So that’s why you were so upset by the crabs in the window? And by the orioles?”
He nodded.
“Oh, Bailey. I’m so sorry. I should have listened.”
He opened his wings again for a hug, and Fluttershy gave it readily.
When they parted, Fluttershy looked ashamed. “You must think so poorly of me.”
Bailey simply stood there, meeting her eyes. They stayed like that for a long time, and the scene went dark.
Daylight streamed through the long windows, illuminating the convention center and its busy occupants. Little clumps of ponies wandered by in conversation, some walking backwards or flying lazily overhead. A well-orchestrated chain of white rats scurried along the hallway, carrying batches of papers in their teeth and pursued by flustered ponies in lab coats. Small crowds formed around large individuals brazenly standing and chatting at junctions, congesting the flow of hoof traffic.
Everypony got out of the way when they saw Twilight Sparkle coming.
She trotted along with a bounce in her step and a scroll secured between her wings. The pace of motion then sped up to the point that background speech was squeaky and unintelligible, but slowed to normal speed once Twilight arrived at the guarded pair of double doors. This time there was no line.
Twilight nodded to one of the guards. “Good morning!” A cuckoo clock sprang and started to ‘cuckoo!’ in the background. “Good afternoon,” said Twilight to the other guard as she traipsed inside.
Once more, we found ourselves looking over the meeting room from an elevated position. Again staffers lingered off to the sides of the room that was still much too large for the few dozen delegates at the central table. The maroon unicorn Vellum Crux was nowhere to be seen.
Dame Claystone took her seat in a way that was somehow both hefty and graceful and rapped her hammer three times on the table. “Let the Sunday meeting of the Equestrian Oversight Society at the first Pan-Equestrian Animal Rights Conference commence.” Though it was a mouthful of a sentence, it sounded right coming from her.
“The first order of business,” said Dame Claystone, still with perfect composure. “At yesterday’s meeting, we saw fit to entrust to her Royal Highness Princess Twilight Sparkle the responsibility of preparing a recommendation vis-à-vis the testing of animals, whether on the scale of individuals or of species, for personhood rights.” She lifted her focus to the other end of the table. “Your Highness, have you anything for us?”
Twilight rose from the center of the table’s other end. “Yes,” she said. With a little spark of magenta, her scroll unfurled bouncily across the table.
“Gentle mares and stallions, since we adjourned yesterday I’ve given this issue quite a lot of thought. My full position argument is included at the head of this scroll, which I’ll be copying and sending to each chapter of the Society, but I’ll summarize for now. I had my friends speak with dozens of ponies here at the conference about what personhood means to them, and I went through their conversations as well as having several of my own. But in the end, it was a very special conversation that led to my key observation: The most reliable way we have of deciding whether someone is a person isn’t some abstract definition. It’s our own judgment.”
A beating of air could be heard, and several delegates looked down. Bailey emerged from under the table and settled down on top of it. A number of the delegates drew back in alarm; some of the nearby staffers rose at the ready.
“This is Bailey of Ponyville,” said Twilight. “Don’t worry, folks, he’s going to behave himself!”
The delegates returned to their spots, watching the duck warily.
“Last night,” Twilight explained, “I used my prerogative as princess to declare Bailey a full person in the eyes of Equestria. He has the right to bring petition against anyone, and is eligible to have petition brought against him. He may own deeded property, including land, and may run for office. He is also bound by all the laws of the realm.”
As Twilight paused, someone spoke up: “In that case, he shouldn’t be standing on the table!”
There was muted laughter. Bailey first glared at the speaker, then looked mortified and sat down, which only drew more laughter.
“Fair enough—but we don’t exactly have a place for a duck to stand!” pointed out Twilight. “Things have been changing since the Tremors and the portal. And they’re going to keep changing.” She paused to let this sink in.
“So to get this straight,” said Braeburn, “are you saying we’re supposed to be using our own judgment when it comes to who’s a person and who’s not? ‘Cause it seems to me two ponies might well disagree on a thing like that.”
Twilight smiled. “You’re absolutely right. There does have to be a central authority when it comes to that decision, and based on a letter I got from Celestia yesterday, it seems that until now she’s been willing to take on that authority herself. But we can’t keep making this decision species by species. Not all ducks are as smart as Bailey, and I suspect I wouldn’t have granted personhood to most. And if we’re going to decide on an individual level, the authority needs to be delegated. That means some kind of authority in each major community with the right to determine personhood. It means making regular and thorough reports to Canterlot to make sure this right isn’t abused or taken lightly. And it means a standardized method to be used by all authorities, with the ideal outcome that the same individual would be given the same answer whether they apply for personhood in Dodge Junction, Rainbow Falls, or Fillydelphia.”
“Which brings us to this, I take it,” said Penduluminus, tapping the scroll.
“Precisely. This document describes a framework for creating a set of questions to be asked of potential personhood applicants, to be translated if necessary into a language the applicant can understand. I say a framework because it’s important the questions can’t be the same every time—otherwise, a mere clever animal could be trained to give the correct responses. I decided that we needed a uniform subject on which any applicant could be tested. I got the idea from my friend Rainbow Dash—there isn’t much that all animals share, but everyone can turn around! So the framework describes how a testing board can create lists of instructions for an applicant to follow that involve physically turning its body in various ways. The instructions generated by this framework should be mostly straightforward, but must include variety, creativity and a certain level of abstraction.”
“Does this framework of yours have a name, your highness?” demanded the steel-colored pegasus.
“I considered naming it after Rainbow Dash, but then I decided to be straightforward and just call it the Turning Test,” said Twilight. “It’s my best attempt at creating a standardized, reliable test for whether someone is a person or a trained animal. Of course, it’s just a first draft, and there are still a number of problems to be worked out…”
“Such as?” asked Clearscape.
“Education,” pronounced the blue earth stallion.
“Exactly,” said Twilight. “And I’d like to mention that I like your proposal for a statement to be read by farmers to their stock. I think we’ll need to go farther as a country—identifying individuals and species with the potential to benefit materially from education and then mandating some amount of it as a basic right. The Turning Test won’t be complete without it. But that, I think, is a discussion for another conference.”
“Oh, I think some of us will find the time to argue about it right now,” said Jennylope Aster.
“Well, you’ll probably want to count me out, then,” said Twilight. “Because I was up pretty much all night working on this, and I’m about to collapse.”
Dame Claystone cleared her throat. “In that case, it would appear prudent for us to vote on Princess Twilight’s recommendation before moving on to other topics. As the proposal is as yet incomplete, this will be only a vote of confidence to be built upon, rather than a binding measure. Are there any final arguments?”
Hope Topaz stretched herself to her fullest height. “This so-called framework is complex, unnecessary, and a gold-engraved invitation for social trouble of all stripes.”
Bailey quacked.
“I rather think it strives for peace and order, helping us to find a subtle border which is not so easily defined, because it limns and dwells within the mind,” said the gnarled zebra.
Dame Claystone called the vote. Neither she nor Twilight took part. The count was twenty-six in favor of Twilight’s plan, nine against.
Twilight sighed deeply in relief. Amid scattered applause, Bailey clapped his wings over and over.
Now the only sound was gentle breathing in the background. Twilight lay asleep on her bed, wrapped tightly in blankets. The hotel room was clean again. Fluttershy sat nearby, dictating to Spike, while Bailey sat on the dragon’s head, watching as he wrote.
“Dear Princess Celestia,” Fluttershy nearly whispered. “Twilight is very cute when she’s sleeping.” She paused for thought while Spike’s quill scratched diligently down his scroll. “Then again, if anyone or anything isn’t cute when it’s sleeping… well, I haven’t met them yet. Um…”
“Do you actually want me to put the ‘um’ in?” asked Spike.
“Um,” repeated Fluttershy, blushing. “We think that you’ll be pleased at what Twilight did this weekend. She promises to send you a full report soon. But just so that you know, she made a duck into a person. And she hopes you’re okay with that. If not… well, you can blame it on me. He was my pet. And now, he’s my friend.” She looked up at Bailey and took a long, slow breath. “Sincerely, Fluttershy.”
“You’re not gonna mention the bit with the married law professor and the duffel bag?” asked Spike.
Fluttershy squeed shyly. “I think that’s Twilight’s own personal business,” she murmured, standing up and walking away from the bed. “Besides,” she added, “she’ll see it on TV eventually anyway.”
The frame collapsed with a whoosh to a single dot.
At last it was time for the end song. Twilight, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy fluttered several feet off the ground outside the convention center, waving to a crowd of ponies assembled around the convention’s banner.
“So long, Baltimare!” said Rainbow Dash. “It was a blast!”
“Thanks for everything!” called Twilight.
Over the shot came Twilight’s singing voice, accompanied by horns and marimba:
“Life in Equestria shimmers!
Life in Equestria shines!
And I know for absolute certain
That everything… yes, everything…
Yes, everything is going to…
Be fine… it’s fine!”
Twilight herself peeled back the corner of the image to peek at us from a pure lavender background. “Yes! Everything is going to be just fine!” The peeled screen flew back into place to reveal the Baltimare skyline, and on the final crash of drums it peeled away one last time into blackness.
And then the end credits.
======================================
“Wow,” said the pony on the couch beside me. “Things are changing fast back home.”
“Looks like it,” I agreed. “How do you feel about that?”
She sat staring in thought. “I don’t know. It’s probably for the best?”
As we sat watching the credits, a thought came to me. “It’s gonna feel weird if we start seeing Equestrian ducks and rabbits and things walking down the street, expecting to be treated like anyone else.”
Peach plonked her hoof into my side. “Was it weird when ponies started showing up?”
I looked at her, deadpan. “Hasn’t stopped being.”
A little frown crept onto Peach’s face. I couldn’t help it; I leaned over and gave her a cuddle.
“This is all you guys’ fault, anyway,” she said. “This whole personhood thing is a human idea.”
“I guess you’re used to having other intelligent beings all over the place. So it doesn’t mean as much to you. We humans? We were lonely.”
She cuddled back and looked into my eyes. “Really?”
“I don’t know. I can’t speak for everyone.”
“Your people got so excited when Equestria showed up that they went around pointing, saying ‘There’s a person! And there’s a person!’”
I spread my hands. “Isn’t it nice to have a fresh perspective?”
I saw her gathering her thoughts behind her eyes—breaking them down and gathering them again in a different way. Unable to decide whether to smile.
“Well, isn’t it?” I pressed.
She planted her front hooves on the couch between us and gazed straight into my eyes. “No, it’s not nice, you sillyhead! It’s amazing. It’s everything.”
I swallowed. “I guess it a way it is,” I admitted.
Originally, I had planned to have one chapter be an episode of Life in Equestria with Twilight Sparkle in which Rainbow was helping Twilight prepare Cloudsdale for the Equestria Games. But when I wound up writing about the World Cup in Chapter 10, I decided to have Ron and Peach just allude to that episode rather than actually depicting it. Some readers really wanted to see the TV show, though, so I decided that I would have to write a full episode eventually. And here it is. I'm actually glad I was forced to pick another subject for the episode, because I feel this subject is more substantial than the Equestria Games were ever going to be.
Baltimore, in case you weren't aware, is the site of BronyCon since it moved from New York in 2013. I attended last summer and drew from my experience there in depicting its sister city in Equestria.
The districts represented by the EOS delegates in this chapter are all drawn from the official map of Equestria used by the showrunners, which was seen during the goof-off in Pinkie Pride and was canonized at the end of Season 4's finale. I found a version that expands on that map to depict another continent on which it's implied the events of Generation 1 took place, and that's what I'm using for this story. George was originally from that continent. I'm assuming the map is accurate but incomplete and, as it says, not drawn to scale.
So it turns out that zebras all speak in rhyme, but they don't all use the same meter. 
Zecora speaks loosely in iambic tetrameter, whereas the guy in this chapter prefers iambic pentameter.
What if Rainbow Dash or Spike had interviewed you about what makes a person a person? What would you have replied? 
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Wow. Was just about to give up on this story because of the super-awkward semi romance, then this chapter. Great chapter. Peach needs to watch gone with the wind, or at least buck up and say she's not up for a relationship with either of them, or possibly anyone. Really from an outside perspective she's not ready for any SO relationship if she can't even articulate how her parents relate to her choices. Also George drives me nuts but at least he's straightforward. The kind of guy I could work with but would never invite over to the super-bowl party.
Also, Pepper needs some male friends (or at least friends he isn't attracted to, I won't judge) to hang out with because at the moment all he's doing is increasing his attachment to Peach with her being his social life.
And now that I think about it Pepper probably shouldn't be dating anyone either. Hiya Meg, miss consolation prize!
Weird that George seems to be the one who is actually the best suited for a relationship right now.
Oh, fuck you so much. So much.
That chapter certainly was interesting conceptually, but honestly? After the whole rest of the story pretty much ignored the regular show cast as characters, it kind of feels like a side story kind of thing. After how long you've been quiet, I was really hoping for something a bit heavier on the story progress rather than expanding on the setting in a completely unrelated way. Now we'll probably have to wait another three months to see how the situation develops.
5777737
Strikes me as humorous that the same thing that frustrated you convinced me to keep on tracking this story. Turning test made me chuckle too. I have to admit, I'm imagining college AI courses sending robots over to visit equestria to take the turning tests as part of their capstone projects.
5777786
Under the bottom line, you had substantially more to say about the awkward semi-romance than about the actual issue debated in the (admittedly qualitatively really great) latest chapter, though, so I think you understand what I mean when I say that I just want to see that storyline resolved for its own sake at this point. I feel pretty much the same way about the actual characters and their suitability for any relationships as you do.
19,000 words to come to the Turning Test. Adorable.
And a good play.
5777597
I still maintain that Peach's difficulties lie in Pepper himself. She's used to certain social customs when it comes to engaging in romanctic pursuits. George, being a pony, is used to the same so she understands what he's doing. Pepper has a twofold problem in that he doesn't practice pony social customs - so she has a hard time understanding his actions and motives - and he's shy so he has particular difficulty practicing ANY social customs.
Essentially Pepper says he wants a relationship and then he doesn't act like it. That completely trips up Peach because the latter half makes it difficult for her to commit, but the first half means she doesn't want to outright abandon him.
And George makes everything worse by being the easy option alternate.
5777815
Heh, I see your point.
I think I just mostly wanted a break from the angsting going on, and this chapter was that break (because even though there was some angsting there was a lot of awesomeness without it).
Hubba hubba!
...Ooor not.
I see what you did there.
Not entirely true (from the US Dept of Labor for 14&15 yr olds):
Non-school hours;
3 hours in a school day;
18 hours in a school week;
8 hours on a non-school day;
40 hours on a non-school week; and
hours between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. (except from June 1 through Labor Day, when evening hours are extended to 9 p.m.)
pinkie.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/img/mlfw2604-Luna_saw_what_you_did_there.jpg
19k words?! this is gona be a doozy.
And now that that duck is a person, Fluttershy can marry it and make duck babies. And then the duck eats a loaf of bread that passed the test, and it goes to duck-prison for murder. Then Fluttershy is all "Baby I love you, I'll wait for you," and the duck is like "Quack" but what he means is "Duck-prison changed me, I'm not the duck you fell in love with." And when he gets out of jail Fluttershy's moved on and the duck is trying to get a job, but nobody will hire a felon, especially one that's a duck and doesn't have any non-bread-eating job skills. He has to turn to duck-crime to make a living, because he doesn't remember how to live like a regular duck. Then he dies of a duck-heroin overdose in an alley.
And when are Peach and Pepper going to kiss?
For some reason I just imagine the camera staying on this scene for a little bit while Yakety Sax plays in the background...
Also, "GIVE PEAS A CHANCE" and "LETTUCE BE".
Hard to put into words, but I think the pony who suggested separating "what is a person?" from "who gets what rights?" might be pretty close to summing it up for me.
A lot of the descriptions of why various animals wouldn't be fit for rights and responsibilities comes closer to saying they're like children than like Earth animals - in that sense Bailey is like a precocious child who would be capable of understanding the rights and responsibilities expected of them as a citizen (and his being recognised by Twilight as a person might be compared to the emancipation of a minor allowing them to be legally treated as an adult), but the other ducks would still be people, just not people who would ever grow mature enough to fairly expect them to take responsibility for themselves.
So.. yeah, I can see why the humans are looking at these clever animals and seeing people, and I can see why a lot of the Equestrians are looking at them and seeing creatures that aren't up to the task of taking responsibility for themselves in society.
A person is defined as having the ability to plan and imagine a future, and then make that future a reality, beyond the scope of instant gratification, instinct, or through the societal nature of a hierarchy.
This capability is what led early humans towards tools, agriculture, and various other discoveries. It also meant that we were capable of abstract thought, as opposed to purely practical, in-the-moment thoughts.
5778543 That sounds like a strong definition. Unfortunately it still needs to clarify when something goes beyond the 'societal nature of a hierarchy', instinct or instant gratification. A lot of human behavior and it's associated abstract concepts seem to be grounded in the items being dismissed above.
Fore planning isn't that exceptional, most higher animals can do that; i.e. some parrots, ravens, chimps, dolphins, and bonobos etc. (arguably, so can many modern computing devices by design).
Sticking closer to your line of reasoning, wouldn't the trait you're aiming for be abstract symbolic manipulation? Which is a trait tied to language-use; which enables (recognizable) abstract planning. One which we have a stronger empirical understanding(recently, at any rate).
This chapter could work as a story on it's own. Loved it.
5779254
Well, I was thinking more along the line of much further ahead planning, for example, the practice of agriculture:
If I put these seeds in the ground, and come back later, there'll be food
Of course, some higher animals are capable of short-term planning (hunting tactics etc), but these can be exemplified as learned behaviours.
5782344
Humans are outstanding in the breadth and depth in which we pursue an activity or behavior. Its more a difference in degree rather than of kind.
The agriculture example is a little weak. Complex, planned agriculture is a relatively recent innovation in human evolutionary history and numerous lower animals have technically done rudimentary agriculture on instinct alone long before we even existed.
Plus the type of planning you're talking about utilizes portions of the brain that normally handle parts of language(this has been demonstrated in several studies on tool design for example). Fringe cases(i.e. hearing impaired humans who only learn a language as adults) have been shown to operate at the same level as (or below that of)sign language taught chimps in terms of social and non-social planning and comprehension. These traits in humans are learned and require a window of developmental time to be met; else they don't fully develop at all.
The distinction you make about learned behavior seems arbitrary. All non-instinctive behavior is based on learning.
Tears in my eyes. That'll be engraved on a statue someday.
I was drinking something when I read this, and it almost ended up on my keyboard.
Now if we wanted to do this the easy way, we could just include a simple sentence:
"Being considered a person involves paying taxes."
I know a lot of squirrels who'd give you the middle paw-digit for even suggesting it.
Glad to see people discussing these questions; the answers are going to be very, very important sometime in the next three to five decades when artificial intelligence takes off.
Personally, I like the way Jeph Jaques put it in his essay "UN Hearing on AI Rights":
a vary interesting story to this point. good story line it flows good.
the last chapter was out of left field but good.
Harts Fire
A very interesting chapter. Long, to be sure, and a shame that Pepper and Peach played such a secondary role, but also thought-provoking. And it was kinda nice seeing the canon characters a bit.
As far as the personhood thing goes, it is obviously a complicated concept. I'm not sure a completely satisfying definition could ever be arrived at. For me, though? I agree with having a test, but to me it doesn't matter much what the test is. If a creature has the ability to attempt the test at all, understanding the concept and what they stand to gain out of it, that itself qualifies as personhood to me. Or, to put it another way, if a creature has the ability to comprehend the idea of personhood, or regard itself as a person in some quantifiable way, that's enough.
5840872
That's a nice way of putting it and pretty much the only test I would agree isn't blatantly chauvinist. There's no formal definition for personhood, mostly because every human is a person and every person is a human and we don't need anything more than that. We have no idea what any non-human person would actually be like or able to do, so we may as well just go with "they say they are" as sufficient proof and admit we have nothing better to justify our own personhood, either.
5542504 I wonder how you picture the end! I was just telling one of my pre-readers today that I generally seem to know how it will go for two or three chapters, but I don't yet know the ending. I'm as excited to learn how this this ends as you are!
Sorry about the depression--hopefully the last chapter, which was more cheerful, helped a little.
5542523 I agree, that would be interesting! But if I were to write a story of that kind, it wouldn't be ponies, I think. If you find one, let me know!
5542384 Yay perfect storm!
And yes, it does tickle me to see people psychoanalyzing my characters more deeply than I have, whatever their reasons. 
5638361 Yay! Then I bet you liked Chapter 13, which is even more exploratory and about at least two of those things.
5638424 You're right, and I still intend to go back and change Chapter 3 to past-tense at some point. It just felt right at the time, but I can't justify it any longer. And on the subject of Equestria's government, I hit some of that in "Personhood", too!
5638707 I've come to realize that I probably misstepped a little in that chapter. Oh, well! You can assume that what Ron meant is that the experience was, yes, exhilarating, and also was intensely, intimately interactive with another being.
5638464 I thought about having Peach react to fan fiction, but decided it would be too indulgent and meta. Good questions, though--if I make a blog for Peach or have her visit this comment board, you can ask her that kind of stuff! I'm thinking the story isn't popular enough for a blog devoted to it... so either I could use my FimFiction blog, or I could just create an avatar image for Peach and allow her to hold forth here.
5648067 Mercury, for being commenter #200, you get to provide a phrase that I must use in the next chapter I write. Within reason, as I told wilsons... who for some reason, never took me up on it!
5777625 If it ever takes off and becomes popular, I'll keep that club name in mind! Glad you like the premise.
5777737 You're welcome.
5777995 Fascinating idea! The relationship between the worlds does appear to be asymmetrical, though--more on that in Chapter 14!
5778001 Ooh, three scowling Twilights! Must have hit the jackpot. The truth is, though, I didn't write the whole chapter around that pun. Originally, Rainbow had Bailey just nod his head or not instead of turning around. And when I realized I needed a name for the test, it came to me and I did some slight revision.
5778014 Thanks for your answer! I've read some of the comics, but I don't consider them canonical. The writers just have to clear their general storylines with the studio, as I understand it, which I'd call semi-canonical. The books are another story! About to read Twilight Sparkle and the Crystal Heart Spell.
5778022 I like it!
5778030 Love the image, and thanks for the clarification.
5778434 Darn. Looks like now I have to change Chapter 15--you gave it all away.
5778529 Clever suggestions, and I love your analysis. You may have pinpointed the reason for the differing perspectives better than I could have. So here's a question--is a barely-talking two-year-old a person? What about a baby? If the answer is yes, is that because of their species, or their potential to develop higher faculties?
5779254 Abstract symbol manipulation, which is very related to language use, is basically my own standard. When dealing with fantasy and science fiction, my rule of thumb is: if it can talk, it's a person. This was challenged when I saw Wall*E.
5782769 Interesting points, and educational!
5782945 Yes!! Ten points!
It would have fifty if I had -actually- gotten your keyboard.
Is there some reason squirrels in particular would hate paying taxes? Sometimes I fantasize about a suburban house where intelligent squirrels and birds live in the yard and pay a quarter a week as rent.
5785803 That may be the single line that makes me giggle most of the entire story so far. I went so far as to listen to one of this MasaeAnela's Let's Plays in order to learn who you were talking about. And she is cool! But I imagine Peach's voice in that sequence as being more self-parodying and not like she's trumpeting the truth in a funny way.
5788243 Love it. I read the whole fake letter! (It's short.)
5840872 I almost didn't put Peach and Pepper in at all! I originally told my friend this chapter would be 100% TELEVISION, and he thought I was joking.
And it sounds like you agree with Penduluminus on the basic concept of personhood, then! It reminds me of a bit from the Xanth books, by Piers Anthony: Good Magician Humphrey says that if a creature wants to know whether or not it has a soul, then it has one.
5855765
Feel free to do the same if you find one yourself, too.
It would probably dive a bit too profoundly into the self-destructive darker impulses of the mind to either fit this place or work with the setting at all, so I can't blame you there. I don't think it'd be quite as interesting to explore with anything else either, though, just because he incongruousness gives it sharper contrast, too.
And there is a story here, technically, with a somewhat similar theme, but it's a clopfic from that awful Gentlemen setting, so i didn't even read past the description. i don't remember the name, but it was about Rose, I think.
5855765
I suppose that's what they call "your characters running away from you." Even if you didn't intend for it to be there, the emergent properties of the complex character you've put together become visible regardless, like one of those fake-"3D" hologram prints.
I tend to put that kind of thing into my user page and bio as a way of way of advertising for the book or other piece of writing I got it from. I've got one of my favourites there right now, if you want to see it. A lot of people wonder what I even like about it and usually it ends up being the opposite of what they expected. :-D
Another that just really bringing the whole of Paradise Lost to emotional point, in my opinion:
"Abashed there the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is; saw virtue in her shape so lovely: saw's... and pined his loss."
5855806
Hmm.. yes to both, and I think I'd accept both of the reasons you suggest. "Expected future abilities" seems the more important of the two to me, so it'd be the first one I'd consider. In the case of, say, mental retardation extreme enough to invalidate that, I'd accept "species" as a reason instead.
I'm glad you liked the slogans, but I can't really take credit for them, I just remembered them from the video of a parody protest song for that exact topic. It's called Carrot Juice is Murder, and you can watch it here if you're interested.
This is one long-ass comment, I'm afraid, so apologies for wall-of-texting at anyone. The whole thing kinda ran away from after I started writing it up.
It's really your own fault for being so slow with this, I have way too much time to think about setting and your worldbuilding every time I see this somewhere. 
Rereading that part of my comment about what what makes Peaches' outburst so defining for the story, I kinda started wondering what concept or experience it is essentially about, as its central theme. What about it really brings everything else together? I don't think it's the romance story it's meant to tell or even the characters' failure to have one despite themselves does, and it also isn't even about the appearance of a new world and what that means, because, all in all, I think that's actually rather incidental and could have been implemented differently. So I think it's more about what leads the characters to be exactly where they are and who they are.
To put it in a single word, I'd say this is a story about victimhood. All of it a giant showcase of people not in control of their lives due to adversary circumstances limiting their available choices and occasionally even harming them either directly or indirectly.
The ponies, of course, are the most obvious victims of that event and suffered the most from what happened. Everything seen in the story is the consequence of a single choice - to start writing a story. Their whole world was living its life more or less in an orderly manner, until the portal was opened and everything changed... by not ever having changed at all. There was nothing to change from, because there was never world and or history only a short while ago, and no memories to change or manipulate, just to create out of nowhere. A complete fabrication from top to bottom and even providing its own evidence for that.
So what, they have to find themselves wondering, about them is even really theirs, instead of something they were forced to do or feel like some kind of thinking marionette? Is any of it, at all? If they had a prominent role in the show, then does that kind of attention from the human world mean they were created as more "real" because of it, or possibly less? Their relationships already never happened and are based in shared delusions, they barely even met half the people they remember existing, their parents didn't give birth to or raise them, and their enemies didn't actually harm them in any way yet. Nothing they remember can be trusted to be the truth - or at least still the truth now, given that their world has to suddenly deal with whatever about actually existing is different from just being imagined, if anything is different at all.
There's probably a lot of emotional pain besides just the sudden retroactive non-existence of their whole life - and probably lingering resentment at the power that created and manipulated them like that, because even those coping well with the situation they find themselves considering possilibilities about their maker: their memories of unhappy experiences are either painful because of a circumstance that allowed no way to avoid it - or simply due to the creator not caring if they are.
But, to make it worse, they can't even really consider themselves the injured party of an injustice being committed by someone who is able to hold responsibility for their action enough be intentionally malicious, with at least that moral vindication for consolation. However, they're not even being intentionally tortured with a meaningful kind of suffering, or in a way that could even so much as be called negligence.
Instead, the Creator is a babbling, helpless idiot god who didn't even realize what it was he was capable of inflicting on innocents as just a side effect of producing light entertainment, the whole situation finding humanity no more prepared for being responsible for that, and any attempted blame for the damage caused by some unpredictable interdimensional incident making a fairytale suddenly real, than the ponies are ready to be the source of or reason for that blame.
Every living creature with fake but painful memories, every moment of suffering currently happening, is ultimately still the result of human actions, that's undeniable. However, just saying that we should have done better isn't really accurate. Even if we had been aware of the process, instead of forced in an involuntary act of divine Logos, being responsible for the designing of a whole world is something that should be left to a creator perfect enough to do it without leaving any flaws behind that could have been avoided - which humans aren't and can't possibly ever be. Even trying would only have meant causing the same outcome for a different but just as good reason. No matter what we actually ended up creating, it doesn't make humanity any more at fault for the ponies' world not being perfect, now that it exists independently, than any ponies are for what "they" did while not actually really existing yet.
Being the cause of something isn't the same as being responsible for it, and both sides have to deal with the fact they were powerless to prevent any of this from happening, or to keep the effects of it from ruining their people's lives. Both sides are equally the victims of circumstance and only sheer random chance is the reason the situation is not reversed.
The individual characters just mirror that general relationship between the worlds in the small. Peaches is there because she wants to learn enough about her origins to stop feeling helpless, because currently everything she knows is based in a fictional past and can't trusted. She has never really done anything at all to even earn a special talent, but now she wants to define herself with the only thing she knows she can rely on being actually real: a completely alien universe, where someone can maybe tell her what she really is meant for.
Ron has more of a personal history to take part in getting him to where he is, but he's still a victim of his own apathy and lack of personal drive. He has no goals, no real interests and nobody he cares about all that much. Peach shows up and quickly latches onto him, and their relationship to each other progresses from there. Even when she finds herself unable to commit, though, it's at least partly because of her inability to completely ignore what her own fake memories tell her, including about popular prejudices and cultural expectations for relationships. And in that way, he's kept unable to progress professionally or emotionally, helpless to change the outcome of whatever process designed those fake memories and ultimately pushed Peach to make the decisions she did.
Just those two examples there, but one way or another, everybody in the story is at least in some part where they are because they had part of their life changed by one direct cause - if not directly, then by the domino effect of whatever the portal opening somehow changed that normally wouldn't have, making the creators of that place ultimately responsible for the current state of their life situation, simply by being too omnipresent of an influence to escape completely.
I am reminded of the Heinlein story "Jerry was a man"!
Turning Test - snicker
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A beautiful analysis. Thank you.
The Turning Test... That was unexpectedly clever.
This chapter was a weird, but interesting idea and quite a break from the usual story!
It was also a little bit of an odd moment for me. You see, I'm currently writing a story called "The Iron Horse: Everything's Better with Robots!" It's about a robot that Twilight decides to try to teach friendship and, in that way, see if the robot is truly sentient. She names the robot after a griffon computer scientist named Talon Turing and dubs her "Turing Test." And, for bonus points, I had it so a bunch of the other mane 6 keep calling her "Turning Test" by accident. And that was well before I started reading this story.
Anyway, I thought you might find that amusing. See you next time!
I feel like this is a reference to Fallout: Equestria
Test of Personage: Do the HokeyPokey
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Unlikely. That's an old twist on a line from The Lord of the Rings.
5855829 A much later time frame than the original comment, but I couldn't help saying; the line you quoted from the Xanth novels? From Humphrey? I recognize it. I believe it was a manticore or the like that had gotten that answer, yes? But it's awesome to see someone else familiar with that setting. Those are some awesome books, as is this story!
"That's the last time we let Spike do the post-production."
They're doing pretty good for their first time on an escalator.
I dunno, Rainbow Dash. Seeing a cockatrice in action is pretty boring actually. You just see this red flash, and then you wake up while the cleanup crew are depetrifying you.
Welp, Equestria is toast. Better luck with the next alternate world we run across!
*cue saxophone solo*
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I'm with the "personhood doesn't matter" camp. Would you break the handle on your hammer? Of course not! It would be broken, then! It's not a person, a living being, or even anything very complex, but that's no reason to mistreat the poor thing. Take good care of your tools, and that scales right up to treating people with respect. Just because someone's not technically a person doesn't mean it's in anyone's best interests to abuse them.
You know, I have very little desire to keep reading this story, but this chapter stands out as a true achievement in writing. I'd consider republishing as a standalone tale, with a couple edits, for those not interested in the romantic tale.
If that Twilight Sparkle show is ANYTHING like Jersey Shores and other "reality" shows I'm glad I never watched them.
The cuts alone made me want to stab my brain with a rusty ice pick.
To slightly misquote someone much smarter then me:
Turning Test! Best line this chapter!
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/me waves. Hey there! Fancy seeing you from a while ago!
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Howdy! I see you're enjoying Ringcaat's story now, eh? It's definitely a thought-provoking piece. And given the subject matter for this chapter compared to my own work, how could I not comment?
Take care!
That was a classic 'Twilight'.
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Oh, thank Celestia! I was worried I was the only one that caught that!
"Turning Test" might just be the best pony pun ever published in the internet.
This was a piece of brilliance. I would have upvoted the story JUST for this chapter (barring the rest of it being truly abysmal)
Vegetables have rights too!