Chapter 3: Exitus Acta Probat
the ends justifies the means
It wasn’t long before I was up and about again. Though not necessarily confined to my bed, I wasn’t cleared to leave the hospital. It had only been a couple of days, and I could always get myself discharged… but the worried glances from the staff and especially the local guards, made me feel too guilty while signing the papers. So instead of ticking ‘self-discharge’, I sighed and checked ‘observation’. Their slightly nervous grins were well-meant, but I felt like an invalid with the way they were treating me. Also, being in the same room with the changeling made me want to get some fresh air. It wasn’t its fault, really. It hadn’t done anything wrong to warrant the aversion… only its staring was slowly getting to me.
To distract myself, I spent a lot of the time looking out the window.
When Rainbow Dash gets here, I’ll ask her to show me around Las Pegasus. The vista from the window alone was enough to keep my jaw open for longer than posterity dictated. Whimsical wisps of clouds framed the intricate architecture of a floating city above an equally crowded urban landscape below. She once described, grudgingly, that Las Pegasus came a close second to Cloudsdale’s ‘coolness’. What it couldn’t achieve with ‘coolness’ was apparently made up for in ‘radicalness’. I must say, the two couldn’t really be compared. While Cloudsdale certainly had the magnitude and scale, Las Pegasus had an artistic flair that really revealed the flashy pride of the pegasi living here.
A couple of days before being discharged, I was scared out of my wits.
“Who!”
The familiar noise made me turn my head, but I was not expecting two great big eyes so close.
“Eek!”
I back-pedalled quickly and tripped over the frame of my bed, with a sickening lurch I knew I was going to hit the opposite wall hard.
“No, no, no!”
I braced myself for the well-deserved blow to my overreaction.
Thud
I hit something, but nothing that resembled the tiled hardness of the hospital walls. Cracking open a wary eye, all I saw was black. Dull shades of granulated matte black. For a moment I thought I was in a weird state of being lucidly unconscious, but then I realised I was looking at the rough chitin that made up the changeling… and that the changeling had transposed itself between me and the wall. I was awkwardly cradled between its hooves, cuddled to its chest while it stared down at me. On closer inspection, the blankness of its eyes faded away, leaving a brilliant sky-blue pupil hidden behind a membranous covering. So that’s why changeling eyes always looked so blank. It was actually quite pretty, in an alien, lethal, cat-like predator sort of way.
So deep was I in my observations that it took me a while to realise I was in a somewhat compromising position.
“Uhh thank you,” I said, pulling myself away from it with reddening cheeks. It steadied me with its hooves and then returned to its spot slightly off-centre of the room. I headed back to the window, my hooves trying to clasp a heart that was straining to leave its chest. I didn’t know if that was anatomically possible, but my heart was certainly trying.
“Oooooh.” I sighed, letting go the rest of my pent-up breath in a nervous titter. I looked around to see if anypony had seen the unprincess-like display. Wary eyes scanned the room. Phew. No pony. I bit my lip. Well no pony. The changeling was still there. Was that a slight grin I spotted? Surely not.
Probably my imagination.
Perched on the window ledge was a familiar companion from Ponyville. He stared at me with curious eyes mixed with amusement. My exaggerated reaction must have looked silly from his perspective, but I was glad to see a familiar face, even if it wasn’t a pony I knew. Or even a pony.
“Owlowiscious,” I greeted in relief. How did he find me all the way in the hospital? Clever bird.
“Who!” he replied, his feather fluffing with pride. Owlowiscious lifted a claw, and I noticed that there was a scroll tied to it.
“Is that for me?”
He nodded, waving the parchment impatiently as if to say that it was obvious. I must be a mess. Of course it was for me, who else would it be for?
Owlowiscious peered owlishly behind my shoulder. Instinctively, I glanced out of the corner of my eye, though I knew what was there. The changeling. It was still standing in the same position, having refused to leave its spot multiple times. I had to convince Sergeant Wheeler that it was no threat, though that prospect was only slightly less arduous than convincing the changeling that it should probably move to another room. It told me it had to stay nearby. It probably thought that it was justified, seeing as it saved me from the greatest threat in the hospital.
Myself.
I thought about introducing the two, but Owlowiscious seemed to lose interest in the changeling, waving the parchment again.
“Thanks, Owlowiscious,” I mumbled gratefully, gently prying the scroll from his grasp. He fluffed his feathers once again and settled down on the window frame, with the changeling eyeing him curiously. I examined the scroll, noting that the seal hadn’t been affixed properly and the ribbon bound the document loosely. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. Shoddy work. Unfurling the parchment with pursed lips, I skimmed over the scrawled contents swiftly. But my displeasure quickly evaporated as quickly as it had arisen as I read the message.
Hey Twi’,
Spike was worried about you so he wanted me and Fluttershy to head over and give you a visit. We might be a while because Fluttershy wanted to take the train, but we’ll be where you are in a few days. Maybe when we’re around we could check out the local sights? I know some pretty cool places we can hang. Oh, and if Owlowiscious doesn’t get this to you, hang tight, okay?
Awesomely Signed,
Rainbow Dash
A chuckle slipped out unbidden while I read the hastily scribbled words from Rainbow. As always, her writing looked as if they themselves wanted to fly off the page. Though I had gotten used to her… colourful scrawls, it didn’t make it any easier to read, but I had long since given up on teaching her the ins and out of proper cursive writing. Still, the message brought a heady grin and lifted my brooding mood. Looks like Rainbow would be showing me around sooner than I expected.
I glanced at the changeling one more time, shaking my head free of the earlier unease I had unthinkingly saddled myself with. Rainbow would charge at this head-on. Or Fluttershy would approach this with a little care and understanding. Even when they weren’t here, my friends still had my back.
Okay, time to find out a little more about our little friend.
“Uhh…” I began.
It stared back at me. Preparatory words died stillborn in my throat.
If only I could think of something to ask it.
—————
I was still thinking of potential interrogative questions, when a knock on the door startled me from my reverie. Sergeant Wheeler, peeked around the door, along with a familiar face.
“Princess!”
“Puff?”
The little bundle of fur detached herself from Sergeant Wheeler and bounded into the room, practically bouncing on the spot in front of me.
I couldn’t help but grin at Puff. I pulled her into a small hug.
“Now, what did I say about calling me Princess?”
“Sorry, Prin— Twilight, Wheelie told me it wasn’t proper to address you any other way.”
“Did he now?” I murmured. I arched an eyebrow at the sergeant. He suddenly found something interesting to look at out the window.
“In any case, I’m glad you’re here,” I continued. I surprised myself at how heartfelt those words were.
Puff glanced over to the changeling.
“Oh, is that the changeling?” she babbled, bounding over. She would have gotten further if Sergeant Wheeler’s hoof hadn’t shot out lightning-fast. I blinked. Wow. That was either good training or a trained response. Either way it was impressive.
“Puff,” he growled. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable around it.”
Puff pouted. “Why not?”
“Because it could be dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because it could be on a secret mission for its own hive.”
“Why?”
“Because its Queen might have thought it was a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because the Queen might think it’s beneficial to do so.”
“Why?”
“Because changelings need to eat.”
“Why?”
“To survive.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what all living creatures want to do, survive.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a fact of nature.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it’s always been.”
“Why?”
“Because… I— It’s the existential question that drives us to seek further knowledge on our purpose for existence in the first place, our meaning only truly affirmed by something that can only be attained whence we have met our baser needs!”
“…Why?”
From the way Sergeant Wheeler’s brow drew together and spluttered, it was apparent that he was a few words away from the end of his rope. Puff’s wide and innocent eyes prevented the stallion from blowing a fuse, and instead he took a deep, deep breath. I hid a grin behind a wing and pretended to re-read Rainbow’s message as he glanced my way suspiciously.
“Oh just listen to me, okay? It’s dangerous!”
Puff turned to me.
“Princess Twilight? Wheelie won’t answer my questions.”
I suppressed a giggle. I was almost tempted to let Puff terrorise the hardened sergeant for a while longer, but I let it go, deciding that consigning him to that fate could very well spell the sergeant’s untimely demise. I addressed Puff’s question directly.
“The answer is, Puff, is that we don’t know,” I said. “That’s why we should be careful, because anything could happen.”
Puff blinked a couple of times.
“Oh,” she said. “Okay.”
Sergeant Wheeler gazed at me with something akin to awestruck reverence. I shifted on my hooves, growing uncomfortable under his potent gaze.
“Teach me how to do that,” he said.
I giggled as Sergeant Wheeler frowned at Puff. He looked like he was trying to solve a particularly pernicious Puff-sized puzzle. At last he shook his head and gave me a lopsided grin.
“Glad to see you better, Princess,” he continued warmly. “They told me laughter is the best medicine, so Puff wrote you a prescription.”
“It’s true,” Puff said, drawing out a yellow and white coded piece of paper.
“One dose of laughter,” I read out loud with an amused undercurrent. “Stat. Signed Dr. —”
“Who!”
“Ah!” I cried.
“Ahh!” Puff yelped.
“AH! What?!” Sergeant Wheeler shouted.
Right. I had forgotten about Owlowiscious.
“Princess,” Sergeant Wheeler cried. “There’s an owl at your window!”
“An owl?!” Puff exclaimed, bounding to the window. “Cool!”
I quickly reassured Sergeant Wheeler.
“It’s okay!” I exclaimed. “I know him!”
The sergeant still looked like he wanted to tackle Owlowiscious, even though we were ten storeys high… and Owlowiscious was a bird. I quickly introduced him before the twitchy sergeant tried flying without wings.
“Everypony, my night assistant, Owlowiscious. Owlowiscious, this is Puff and Sergeant Wheeler.”
Owlowiscious blinked at me.
“Who?” he hooted.
I chuckled as Owlowiscious fluffed his feathers again, looking pleased at the attention he had garnered.
“As you can probably tell, he’s a playful owl,” I commented affectionately, giving Owlowiscious a pat on the head.
Puff stretched out her hooves hopefully and Owlowiscious obliged her by flittering down from his perch to straddle Puff’s fore hoof. She giggled as he crawled up and down her forelimb and hooted.
“Do you want to play with Owlowiscious outside?” I asked.
Puff hesitated for a moment before nodding enthusiastically.
“Off you go then,” I urged. “Take care not to cause any trouble.”
Sergeant Wheeler grunted. “Don’t worry Princess, I’m sure she won’t go in the woods this time.”
Puff flushed a deep red before scrambling to get out the door. She looked like she was going to say something, but evidently thought it was a better idea to make away with Owlowiscious than risk a rejoinder with Sergeant Wheeler.
When the door closed with a click, Sergeant Wheeler turned to me, his facial expression carefully neutral.
“Princess, about the changeling…”
I sighed, feeling a sense of déjá vu. “Yes,” I replied, looking at it. It hadn’t moved an inch from its spot throughout this whole exchange. A couple of times I told it to sit down or take a break, because it wouldn’t do it itself. I had a feeling that it would stand vigil until it collapsed of exhaustion. I wasn’t sure, of course, but I didn’t want to take the risk.
“What’s your plan, Princess?”
I weighed my options. I had already sent a letter to Princess Celestia, but until I heard back from her, I’d have to deal with it on my own. It seemed healthy enough, and I think the magic I gave it was enough to keep it healthy. I couldn’t help wondering though, what would happen when it run out of the magic I’ve given it? Would I have to feed it some more? Would it start feeding off other ponies? I clamped down on that line of questioning. Deep breaths, like Cadance said. Think about the solution, not the problem.
“We’ll need to find a hive that’s willing to take it in,” I reasoned out loud. “If there is another hive, and provided they’re willing to talk in the first place.” I shook my head. “But, we’ll figure that out later, for now we should try and get in contact with one.”
Sergeant Wheeler nodded. “Makes sense,” he murmured, tapping his muzzle thoughtfully. “I’ll coordinate with the local Guard and see if there has been any reports recently of changeling sightings. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
I found myself nodding along with his suggestion. “Yes, we could ask any travellers coming in if they’ve seen or heard anything recently. After that, a report can be compiled to cross-check the rumours. Eventually we’ll find a hive.”
“And if we don’t?” Sergeant Wheeler posed.
I swallowed, expecting the question, but definitely unready to answer.
“I guess we’ll have to host it until we do.”
Sergeant Wheeler pursed his lips, but didn’t say anything. He knew it was a stop-gap measure, and his eyes studied me critically.
“Is there a problem with that?” I asked, a little harsher than I meant.
Sergeant Wheeler shook his head hastily and looked away.
I mentally kicked myself. Sergeant Wheeler was only worried about me, and I could understand his concerns with something so unknown. The poor stallion was just doing his job. I had to explain myself.
“Sergeant,” I said. “I’m sorry, that was unwarranted. I just feel like the changeling can be trusted.” I held up a hoof to stem his visibly rising protests. Princess Celestia would give this changeling the benefit of the doubt, I’m sure of it. “For now,” I added, then glanced at the chart. “Besides, once my reserves are up, I doubt it would try anything.” I grinned ruefully. “But I’d also like to hear what you think, maybe I’ve been a bit hasty with my judgement.”
Sergeant Wheeler cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t like it, Princess. It doesn’t look like a setup, but it feels like one.”
I cocked my head, curious. “What do you mean?” I asked, glancing sidelong at him.
The guard studied the changeling, then turned back to address me. “Over the years, I’ve gotten a feeling about certain situations. For example, when I’m chasing a thief down an alleyway and I notice that there’s no pedestrians around. Or when I’m tracking a dangerous creature and I notice the forest has gone silent. Little things that prickle my coat and set my teeth on edge. So when a changeling shows up acting all innocent…”
He glanced back our silent participant, his mouth twisted in a nervous grimace.
“It’s an unnerving feeling, Princess,” he finished.
“I can’t see it meaning any harm…” I began, but then trailed off. A seed of doubt lodged itself in the back of my mind. I wanted to give the creature a chance, but could I be making a grave mistake? I didn’t feel like anything was off, not like Cadance’s wedding. Current evidence suggested that changelings shouldn’t be trusted, but there was always subterfuge. If changelings were good at anything it was deception. Still...
“Oh I don’t doubt it, Princess,” Sergeant Wheeler replied. “But it’s like we’re caught in an invisible web, and the changeling is right at the centre of it.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. With a shiver, Sergeant Wheeler turned away from the blank eyes of the changeling and dipped his head apologetically.
“Sorry, Princess,” he muttered. “I guess I’m on edge from all the drama recently, and there’s…” He stopped himself. “Never mind.”
I made to say something, but the sergeant quickly begged off.
“I’ll get to organising the searches and the reports, Princess,” he stated, giving me a salute. “And just in case, I’ll tell a couple of guards to keep an eye on it. See you tomorrow, Princess.”
Before I could object, the sergeant gave me a hasty bow, then left the room, closing the door behind him. Moments later, the guards stationed outside my room entered tentatively. I didn’t have the heart to tell them to leave again, so they stationed themselves next the changeling, who registered them neutrally as they approached.
I paced around in front of the changeling.
“What am I going to do with you?” I murmured to myself.
My gaze drifted among the various knick knacks that made up a hospital room. It was bland… a couple of vases, some flowers, a clock, a book—
A book!
A devilish grin spread across my muzzle. Yes, there was something I could do in the spare time…
——————
The doctor tried to stop me from leaving the hospital. No can do. I was on an important mission.
“I’m not getting discharged,” I explained patiently. “I’m just getting some light reading material.”
The doctor had trouble focusing on me when the two flanking guards—and changeling—stared her down.
“Uhh, n-no,” she stammered. “Look, you’re under my observation…”
Then the changeling growled.
I glanced back at the changeling in surprise. I didn’t know changelings could growl. When I turned back, the poor doctor was quivering where she stood.
“O-Okay!” she squeaked, signing the form with a messy scribble and dashing off as fast as her knock-kneed legs could carry her.
I felt sorry for the doctor, she was only doing her job.
With a sigh, I turned to my entourage, addressing everypony, but making eye-contact with the changeling.
“Hey you can’t just growl at my doctor,” I lectured the changeling. “She’s just trying to help me. Believe it or not, she also tried to help you, and she was really scared of you. Be nice to her. You should be nice to ponies that help.”
The changeling blinked at me, before nodding slowly.
“Yes, my Princess,” it droned.
——————
Sergeant Wheeler vented a snort when he saw me splayed among my little book fort.
I call it that because it reminded me of my foalhood ‘book forts’ that I had actually created from heavy reference materials. But like my mother, Sergeant Wheeler did not look too impressed, despite the fact that the retaining wall was about as high as my chest. Well I didn’t need his disapproving opinion anyway, I was proud of it.
“Princess, what is all this? You’re supposed to be recovering you know. You shouldn’t be… out of bed.”
I read the undercurrent in his tone.
You shouldn’t be playing with books, he meant.
I waved an impatient hoof in his direction, not bothering to rise from the comforting bed of books.
“I’m fine,” I shot back dismissively. “You worry too much.”
Sergeant Wheeler groaned and turned to the two guards next to the changeling.
“Come on you two, aren’t you sworn into the service?”
The two guards shifted uncomfortably.
“Couldn’t stop the Princess, Sergeant,” the one on the left mumbled. During the course of our little argument about priorities I learned his name was Private Smirch. “When I tried to block her exit she just teleported past us. Then the changeling tackled us both to get to the door.”
Smirch’s partner continued the report with an embarrassed expression. “Before we could take any action,” she explained with a sidelong glance at me. “The Princess ordered us to stand down. We complied.”
Sergeant Wheeler sighed. Well the Princess does outrank the Sergeant. Consider your orders countermanded. Nothing gets between me and my books. Nothing.
“Where did you find the time to get all these books? Shouldn’t you have read one at a time?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh I’ve read them all, I’m just going through some of the more esoteric sections again, because it’s hard to recall texts written in another language.”
Sergeant Wheeler seemed taken aback.
“Read through them– wait, you’ve actually read all of these books?!” he spluttered. “Do you have some sort of photographic memory?”
I giggled. “Oh no, don’t be silly,” I replied. “I don’t remember them word for word, that’s why I had to read through most of them again.”
Sergeant Wheeler glanced at the clock and then back at the books.
“What, all of them? Where did you find the time to do that?” he pressed.
“I read them while you were gone,” I answered, now shrinking under his intense stare. “Uhh, is that a problem?” My eyes widened as a sudden thought struck me. “Oh no! Am I not allowed to borrow this many books from the local archives?! Oh shoot! I’ll send them back as soon as I can!”
Sergeant Wheeler waved his hooves frantically. “No, no! It’s not that!” He glanced between the thick mountain of books and myself. The sergeant seemed to have trouble accepting the situation. “It’s just… how?” was all he could say.
I shrugged, how else do you read a book?
“I just pick up a book and read it,” I said. “It’s easy if you isolate the parts that are important.”
Sergeant Wheeler’s shock could have matched Rarity’s when she first saw me dance. I mentally cringed at the image. I’ve been taking dance lessons at her insistence. Don’t ask. My hooves still hurt.
“That’s… scarily efficient. I mean, just a day and over a hundred volumes of reference texts on…” he picked out a tome, but trailed off as he gazed at the seeming random scribbles that adorned the spine “I can’t even read what this says.”
“It’s Ancient Hippogriff,” I explained, lifting the book gently from his grasp with my telekinetic field. “The book is an anthology of fables and tales collected from lands all over Equestria and beyond.”
Sergeant Wheeler looked confused, so I hastily pressed on.
“The Hippogriffs mention a certain equine-like creature that sucked the soul out of its hosts. The victims would lie in a ‘twilight’ state unable to respond to any external stimuli.”
Sergeant Wheeler’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying…?”
I smiled with a conspirator’s nod and pulled another book from the wall. I flicked through the pages until I found the paragraph.
“Here,” I said, passing over the book. “Read this.”
Sergeant Wheeler accepted the book and scanned the contents, reading it out loud.
“—and in my journey I was beset by the oddest of creatures, it looked terrifying in its visage of large fangs and blank, blank eyes. I felt drawn into those fathomless depths, and whilst I fell spiralling, something vital within me almost broke and left my body. If not for Clover, I would have been taken there and then. When I regained my senses, the creature was gone and there was no evidence it had even existed in the first place. Thank the Stars for that…”
“Clover… hmm, Star Swirl?” Sergeant Wheeler murmured.
I blinked in surprise. “You know about Star Swirl?”
“He was mentioned briefly during the course on counterspells,” Sergeant Wheeler replied. “But that means…”
I nodded, my wings unfurling slightly in excitement. “Yes! This is an early record of changelings! Pre-classical, even!”
“So changelings preceded the nation of Equestria?” Sergeant Wheeler looked doubtful. “I wonder what that means.”
I shrugged, though my shivery excitement of the discovery was drowning out Sergeant Wheeler’s skepticism.
“I don’t know!” I exclaimed. “But isn’t that great? There’s more to learn about these changelings!”
Sergeant Wheeler looked uncomfortable. He shifted on his hooves and glanced at the changeling. “You’re awfully accepting of changelings, Princess.”
Anticipation deflated as fast as it had risen. My shoulders sagged. “Well I wouldn’t say I would trust every changeling out there.” Unbidden, my thoughts flickered back to Chrysalis. With an effort, I forced the thoughts back. “What if this changeling is different? Knowing more about them wouldn’t do any harm. It would help, wouldn’t it?”
Sergeant Wheeler nodded hesitantly. “Sorry Princess, I feel like we keep coming back to the same subject. I find it hard to trust the changeling—“ he saw my look and bustled on “—and I’m not suggesting anything drastic. I’m just worried that there’s more to this changeling than meets the eye. I’m a stallion that has to see things for itself before I can trust it.”
Muted hoof steps caused us to both turn around. The changeling was there, holding out a self-inking fountain pen in its hoof. I glanced back at the desk where I had left it and realised that the changeling had retrieved it without me even noticing that he had moved from one side of the room to the other.
“For me?” I asked, reaching for it. Surprisingly, the changeling moved away from my grasp.
“No, my Princess,” it replied mechanically. The changeling shuffled over to Sergeant Wheeler and presented the pen to him instead. It blinked at him expectantly.
Not knowing what to expect, the sergeant reached out and carefully took the pen. He inspected it suspiciously for a few moments, but evidently, even a pen couldn’t be construed as a changeling trap.
“Uhh, thank you,” he muttered sending a confused glance my way. I shrugged, I didn’t know what it was up to any more than he did.
Then the door clicked open.
A frazzled pony stepped in. I describe her as such because she sported a frizzy mane and skewed glasses. Surprisingly, the mare ignored every other occupant in the room, beelining straight to Sergeant Wheeler after spotting him as the first pony just outside the door.
“Sergeant Wheeler?! There you are! We’ve done a preliminary survey of the local residents. We’ve got a lead, but I’ll need you to sign here— where— ah pony feathers, where did I place my pen?”
In a louder voice she called out to the rest of the room. Though she wore the Guard’s uniform, I somewhat bemusedly observed that the smart dress and armour didn’t seem to dampen her dizzying demeanour.
“Anypony got a pen?!”
Sergeant Wheeler stepped forward hastily. “It’s okay, Private, I have one… here.” He glanced at the changeling out the corner of his eye. He turned to me with a querying look. I smiled and waved him away. He should probably talk to the Private, it seemed important.
“Oh good,” the mare continued, bringing out a shockingly large sheaf of papers from her saddlebags. “Sign here, and here, and here… and here.” Sergeant Wheeler sighed, dumping the papers on the bedside table and signing the forms with an angry flourish. The guard whistled discordantly as she waited patiently for Sergeant Wheeler to finish his task. Then her eyes finally registered the changeling.
“Oh,” she said nonchalantly. “Changeling.”
Then she did a comic double-take, her arms waving wildly in the air as she adopted some sort of praying mantis-like pose.
“CHANGELING!?!” she gasped melodramatically.
Sergeant Wheeler grunted as he continued to fill out the paperwork.
“Private Miggle, you know this. Or you would have known this if you’ve been keeping up with the bulletin boards.” He didn’t even look up from the papers. “And not to put a too fine point on it, but you’ve been ignoring the Princess for the past few minutes.”
“Princess?!” Miggle squeaked softly. She turned woodenly to where I was standing. Her jaw dropped.
“PRINCESS?!” she repeated. Then she clasped her hooves over her mouth. “Oh I’m so sorry! I was just caught up in the moment and I didn’t even have time to— the nurses said that Wheelie—“
“Wheelie?!”
“—Oh relax, not everypony is calling you that. Puff came around and thought it would be hilarious if the whole regiment started using it.” Miggle hastily backtracked when she saw how confused I was getting. “Anyway, sorry Princess! My name is Private. I mean Miggle. Private Miggle, ma’am!”
I waved away the formality with a warm smile, barely resisting the temptation to giggle at Sergeant Wheeler’s expense. “Hello Private Miggle, Puff has mentioned you.”
“Did she now?” Miggle replied with a proud grin. “That foal is going to go far. Also just call me Miggle, everypony else does. Well except when they’re calling me other things like—”
“Ahem!”
Miggle stopped mid-way with a nonplussed look. She rolled her eyes at the sergeant, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “And if it’s not too much to ask, what’s a changeling doing here?”
Sergeant Wheeler sighed. “I’ll get you briefed later,” he stressed meaningfully. The sergeant glared at Miggle until she grinned apologetically, making a zipping motion with her hoof across her muzzle. Then he addressed me. “Don’t tell her, she’ll blab to the whole of Las Pegasus.”
“Don’t they already know?” I said in a half-joking tone.
Sergeant Wheeler shook his head. “No, not the general public,” he answered seriously. “We didn’t want to incite panic. There were… are rumours, of course, but you can’t stop those.” He hesitated, then spoke in a softer tone. “Do you want to let them know?”
I could feel my brow furrow as I considered his statement. Would it do good if the public knew? The heavy weight of responsibility made itself known again. Well the truth always has a way of working itself out of the heaviest locks and chains.
“Yes…” I said slowly. “But give them all the facts. It’s just one changeling.”
“Should we treat it as a potential danger?”
I shook my head vehemently. “Like you mentioned, we don’t want to incite panic. It’s not a confirmed invasion, that much we know.”
“Not a confirmed invasion?”
I could feel my wings shifting uneasily. “Well we don’t know if there is one yet, and we can’t rule out any possibility. I don’t think so, but we should be alert for any suspicious activity.”
Sergeant Wheeler studied the changeling. “We’ll call the changeling a ‘liaison’, no sense in putting a negative spin on things.”
“Thanks, Wheelie,” I replied, with a teasing grin.
Sergeant Wheeler groaned. “Please, not you too, Princess.”
I chuckled. “Oh I’m just following Major Puff’s orders.”
“She’s a Major?!” Miggle piped up.
“She’s joking, Private,” Sergeant Wheeler growled.
“Me too!” Miggle added.
Sergeant drew breath to answer, but then decided the best of it after seeing us both grin at him. “Come on,” he growled to Miggle through his teeth. “Let’s get everything sorted down below.” He paused, then called back to me. “Oh and I think the Doc is clearing you this afternoon, unless you prefer to stay here?”
I shook my head firmly, remembering the poor Doctor. She probably wanted me… well the changeling, out of the hospital as fast as possible.
“No,” I said. “I’m starting to get antsy staying indoors.”
Sergeant Wheeler nodded, with a furtive glance at the changeling.
“I see what you mean,” he said. “Get some rest, Princess. I have a feeling the next day is going to be much more… exciting.”
I nodded genially as the sergeant and Miggle left, leaving me with two guards, a changeling and a pony Princess in a room. It sounded like the beginning of a really bad joke. Then I recalled what the changeling did just moments before.
“Thank you,” I said to the changeling. “For helping out Sergeant Wheeler with the pen.”
I didn’t expect it to reply, so I surprised when it did.
“Are you satisfied, Princess?”
That made me pause.
“Satisfied?” I asked curiously.
The changeling edged forward. “I did as you wished, my Princess.”
Was it trying to be nice? Was that why it gave Sergeant Wheeler the pen? I had to confirm
“Were you trying to be nice?” I asked it
The changeling nodded.
How curious. Though outwardly stoic, the changeling did have a firm grasp on what constituted a ‘nice’ gesture. Then a thought struck me.
“What’s your name?” It occurred to me that I never thought to ask. This creature was a thinking, living being.
“Name, my Princess?” it asked. The query was barely distinguishable from a monotonic statement.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you have something you call yourself? Or others?”
The changeling frowned. “I am ‘the changeling’,” it said confidently.
I coughed, gesturing negation. “No, that’s what we call your, uhh… species. I’m asking you what your name is.”
The changeling genuinely looked like it was struggling with the concept.
“I am… zzz …yours, my Queen…”
The changeling frowned further. Its jaw worked open and closed. I noted that it had referred to its original mode of address. What did that mean?
“Your name,” I insisted. “What is it?”
The changeling shuddered and made to reply. It twitched. I felt a chill run down my spine.
Even the guards were starting to get anxious.
“Should you be doing that?” Smirch warned.
Smirch’s partner nodded. Come to think of it, she didn’t give me her name either.
“Thank you Smirch, and…?”
“Duft,” the pegasus answered. She shifted her hooves uncomfortably. “Private Duft.”
I turned back to the changeling.
“Well Smirch and Duft, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with asking it its name—”
*THUMP*
The changeling collapsed onto the floor, its eyes flickering to a close.
Smirch and Duft gave me recriminating looks.
“I can fix this!” I squeaked, leaping forward.
“NO!” Smirch and Duft shouted together. Duft looked ready to tackle me.
Duft continued, while the glow in my horn died down.
“Princess you’re still recovering from mage’s malaise. We’ll fetch help,” she said sternly. She shot to the door, yelling commands to Smirch as she did so. “Keep an eye on the changeling. Keep an eye on the Princess. Don’t do anything until I return!”
Smirch nodded, eyeing the changeling suspiciously. His face may have been carved from stone. Then he caught my expression and softened.
“Look,” he said. “It might be exhaustion. The changeling hasn’t taken a break in a while.”
I bit my lip, looking down at the changeling. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from its still form.
“It’s my fault isn’t it?” I babbled. “And I can’t do anything while it's like that!”
Smirch took a deep breath. “Princess, it’s not your fault.”
“How can you know that?”
“I don’t, but—”
“Then it could be my fault.”
“Princess—”
“What am I going to do? What if the changeling dies? It will have died under my care! I would be responsible for a diplomatic fallout! What if this changeling was a peaceful envoy? What if—”
“Princess! Look at me!” Smirch yelled.
I stopped, well-aware that my breathing had hitched up. Smirch’s steady gaze brought me down a couple of notches.
“Princess,” he continued when he knew he had my undivided attention. “The changeling is not dead. We haven’t yet even established what happened. Until then, we’re going to operate under the assumption that it is not your fault.”
I took another deep, steadying breath.
“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”
Smirch gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“Good,” he said.
“Sorry,” I blurted. Smirch looked scandalised.
“No need to say that,” he said quickly. “Just doing my job.”
“Yes, well… I’m kind of new to mine, if you can tell,” I mumbled into my chest.
Smirch snorted softly. “Yeah, well I’ve been in mine for a few years and these few days have blown everything I’ve ever experienced out of the barnyard, I can tell you.” I heard his muted chuckle. “Princess, you’ve probably brought about three years worth of excitement and gossip to Las Pegasus in as many days. Trust me when I say you’re coping far better than anypony ever would.”
“Well I don’t plan on bringing it, the excitement comes to me,” I grumbled. Smirch merely grinned.
Then I heard a rasping gasp from the floor.
“Hey!” I cried out, edging to the changeling and crouching down to its level. “Can you hear me? What’s wrong?”
The changeling mumbled something.
Getting a weird sense of déjà vu again, I leaned in.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“Name me,” it hissed.
With a glance at Smirch, I wracked my brains at the unexpected question. Unbidden, aged texts and ancient words came to mind.
“Ugh!” I cried. “Why do I—”
The changeling groaned.
“No!” I said quickly. Hopefully it wouldn’t name itself by my rant. “I mean Praegus!”
“Praegus?” Smirch queried.
I hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Praegus. The Ancient Hippogriff word for change.” It wasn’t very original, but it was better than ‘changeling’, if only by a little.
“Your name is Praegus,” I affirmed. The words sounded strange, maybe because I was so used to hearing pony names? The words definitely had a foreign feel to it.
“Praegus,” the changeling, no, Praegus repeated. Its head slowly slumped back.
Smirch put his head closer to Praegus’ chest and listened to its breathing.
“I don’t know what you did,” he said, “but it definitely sounds like it helped.”
I sunk down to my haunches and let go of a pent-up breath. This changeling was so tension-inducing I felt like a spring doll pulled tight on marionette strings.
“Hopefully that’s the end of that,” I mumbled.
Smirch kept his eyes trained on Praegus.
“Don’t count on that,” he muttered more to himself than to me.
Having flashbacks to I, Borg
Good stuff!
Order: Give name
Priority: Absolute
Name: ?
Error: Unable to comply
Task: Find name
Priority: Absolute
Name: ?
Error: Priority: Absolute Priority: AbsoluTE Priority: AbsolUTE Priority: AbsoLUTE Priority: ABSOLUTE
Damn Twilight you almost broke it!
Not unless your name is Mola Ram.
I hate this kid already.
Twilight just bothered a giant horse-bug into bluescreening. I'm honestly impressed.
You might say she bugged it.
6502105 Name Praegus: Accepted.
Initiating Higher Functions
Higher Functions Active.
Let's Play a Game.
Names are always important. Language conveys meaning, and for those who can't give themselves meaning, they often become what other people name them.
6502179
Amusingly enough, names are one of the few things about language that don't do that. My name is purely denotative, it communicates no meaningful information about me whatsoever. It's why you can so conveniently drop method and variable names altogether when compiling a program: they're not actually needed for anything. Like comments, they are effectively purely aesthetic, not functional.
ERROR 404: NAME NOT FOUND
6502199
Actually, a lot of names do have meaning, even if it's become secondary to the name itself nowadays. Try looking yours up or asking your parents about it.
Glad this story is continuing on, I was worried it would be dead forever. I did find this chapter pretty slow but I'm guessing now Twilight is starting to question the changeling, we will start to get somewhere.
I didn't have before because I didn't have enough chapters to judge it but now it deff has enough to give a gave.I just can't wait to find out more about this changeling
6502199
They are functional, in that they denote which variable you're talking about, but other than that, yes, you could just replace the name with the location of the data the variable carries and the program would run just fine.
6502133
Or that she found a bug with a bug and bugged it to bluescreening.
6502293
My name means "crowned, virile male who castrates his enemies." No, really. That's not the point I was making, though. Most parts of a sentence - verbs, propositions, adjectives, nearly anything really - tell you something about the things that are being talked about. How they are, how they relate to each other, how they behave, all kinds of things. When I say "potato," I am referring to a concrete thing that will give anyone familiar with the word an idea of what I mean by it.
Proper nouns are different, though. A "wlam" isn't a thing. I picked that name in part exactly because it is meaningless, actually. Proper nouns allows you to distinguish the objects of a sentence if there are multiple, but they don't tell you anything else. They're symbolic placeholders and otherwise void of information. In a sense, all words work like that, but less so - a salami is a kind of sausage, but "Salamis" is just a noise unless you know that it refers to a place in Greece (and is inedible.) It could have been anything: a person, a place, a time period, whatever really. I could also replace it with any other word. When I tell you something is green, you now know something about it. When I say Salamis, you don't even know I'm not just using the plural of salami, unless I tell you I am.
On the other hand, yet again amusingly, pony names very much do tell you something about the person they apply to. There's irony for you.
You have found a way to make the programmer in me become invested in this... Now lets see if that's good or bad...
This changeling is working on JavaScript...40.media.tumblr.com/b9863441faea362be3819a6294cc0241/tumblr_nnkt3jdTRs1tmpdpeo1_r1_1280.png
Oh you.
You made a grammar goof.
Wooo New chapter! Its really good, keep it up!
What about non-functional readers?
YES
reactiongifs.us/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/understood_that_reference_avengers.gif
6502404
Does that mean the changeling needs an update at least once per week?
That was fun, may I have another? Looking forward to more.
Keep up the good work. Deus tecum.
Great job Twilight, now you have a changeling pet! Which is actually coo.
It's good to see this update, hopefully the next chapter will be out a bit quicker. This is a good story
6502199
Modern names for people quite often don't reflect the person they belong to in terms of concrete definitions, but originally they did. And even if meaning isn't inherent in the word itself, once it's used and becomes attributed to a particular object, person, etc, it gains meaning through that context.
Though in this case I was referring more to attributive names than the arbitrary names people are given at birth, since that's the kind of name he was given in the story.
6503091
Mine certainly doesn't.
Anyway, while that's true enough, I figure that given the apparent compsci flavour of this story, it might make the most sense to talk about it in those terms. "Praegus" is really more of a hurried descriptive than a real individual label at any rate.
6502081
Same here, although Praegus has been acting like a blank slate, an automaton, up to now... Needing to be told what to do or else it just stands there waiting for the next command. I'm guessing Praegus is not an infiltrating unit but a worker drone which makes more sense in regards to the lack of "personality" and an innate need for a leader to tell it what to do.
6503107
It is certainly that, but I would also say that it's more than a little... prophetic, almost. While naming a changeling "Change" can be a simple hurried description, in this case it's being given to a changeling that is slowly becoming something it never was before, and, under normal circumstances, never would have had a chance to be. Twilight named him Change and is the catalyst for him to do just that.
I've been playing too much Mass Effect. I'm reading he changeling's voice in Garrus' voice.
6503286
I wouldn't overinterprete. The story hasn't given that much indication where it's going with the idea yet.
This chapter made me think of this.
static1.squarespace.com/static/51c362e7e4b03003ea9ce2b9/52839ef1e4b01e8cfd58efb5/5547ac01e4b024395aeefe02/1430761040163/?format=500w
What was that episode called again?
6503107 Names do generally have meaning though, wether that meaning is something inherent in the name it self or simply percieved by those that know of what they reference. Generally, for a name whose meaning is found in the name it self is usually only atributed to nicknames, self apointed or otherwise. Your nick for this page carries meaning for you even if you didn't realize it. That you chose it because it inself have no meaning tells one a lot about you as a person, not enough to build a full picture but enough pieces to see that they fit into a bigger whole. Even your birth name given to you before you had many (if any) characteristics to make that name meaningful at that time, but I am pretty sure that name have meaning to you and everyone that knows you for who you are (or aren't). The meaning of a name is applied by the ones who know what is being referenced. As such all names has meaning as long as anyone still knows what the names reference (aka person, place, object, etc).
However a few names are a lot easier to disern the meaning behind than other as long as you take into account the culture the name is from.
Take the nickname my friends gave me. "Alek" they would call me, which is a bastardisation of Alex which is a common shortened version of Alexander or Alexandra or even just to be used as its own name, as well as the first two letters in my first and last names mashed together. Ether way I am being called Alek by my childhood friends from when I was 7 years old (16 years ago) and still is today. It refers to me being a bit odd and aloof, and when split in the middle the two double letter words literary translates to Willow and Oak marking me as a "Treeskull" which is similar to the English Numbskull. The Treeskull part being a notice to my somewhat slow thinking (in social situations) and a little on how stubborn (rooted if you may) I could sometimes be when I was a kid. I was also very Clumsy and stiff on my legs (which I later found out was due to synaps problems messing up my fine motor functions slightly) which again made me seem rigid like a tree. Also my friends just throught it sounded funnier.
Every name have meaning. . . To those that know what it is referencing. But no name has meaning to anyone without that prior knowledge. Even something as insignifican as a "Random username I choose because it have no meaning." Was asigned a neaning by you the very moment you choose it. Whether that meaning was to be otherwise meaningless is irrelevant as that is still technically a meaning. And for as long as you remember it, it will have a meaning to you. And it also will have a meaning to me for as long as I can remember (how incredibly short that may be).
Good day sir.
-Alexander "alek" Ek
6503442
I literally punched my keyboard to make it. I have some serious doubts there.
Anyway, no offense intended, but I think you kind of missed the point of that. I wasn't talking about names in the sense of something that's etymologically derivable, I was just talking about names. "asdgkajgjord" is a name in that sense, even though it's just a completely random bunch of letters. They're a bit of a different thing in the computer science sense than in the conventional one.
6503457 Literary everything can be a name in a sense. And yes, punching your keyboard to write it still counts. Like I said it's meaning was to be otherwise meaningless.
Asdgkajgjord could technically be a name, (any string of random letters, numbers, and symbols can be) and there could techically be one using as one right as we speak (write?). Though we both knew you where where just smashing your keyboard to make a nearly unreadable line of text.
P.S: Remove the first G and suddenly its properly pronounceable and actually sounds like some kind of name from a fantasy setting. -Asdkaj'gjord walked down to the longhouse to partake in the feast thrown in his honor by Ferthium the village chief. As Asdkaj'gjord had slayed the mighty beastial wolf, who had plagued the tribe for months.-
6503522
You're creative, I've got to give you that. Still, I think you get my meaning. I was talking about the formalities of grammar, not about the intent of the person using it.
Good to see this fic back!
If it were me, I would get a notepad and write out a bunch of directives in a way to essentially make it a functioning member of society.Like 'follow this algorithm to be able to problem solve, follow this algorithm to be able to understand emotions, ect'.
I have a programmer's mind though, so I think of this kind of stuff. Essentially leverage the fact that it will do whatever I tell it to to make it act and think like a functioning being. That wouldn't work if it was a computer, but because it is magical wet-ware, I believe that it can adjust and adapt to do what I want, since it obviously has enough mental capability to speak and remember things and interpret how to 'be nice'.
~Crystalline Electrostatic~
22:54_10/7/2015
Another excellent chapter, as usual.:D
6503318
True, it might not, but some of the things that happened in this chapter in particular give me hope.
I am really liking this story. keep up the good work.
that changelings situational awareness is strong. i wonder how much impact its name will have, whether for having a name or for its meaning.
Oh dear, it seems your changeling has experienced its first nullpointer-exception, in class "Identity", function "name( )". Do you wish to start your changeling in debug-mode?
Interesting update and we got a name for our faithful changeling lap-
dogbug. I'm looking forward to the next chapter, and maybe we won't have to wait six damn months for it.Joking aside, this was interesting and fun and it finally feels like we might be getting into the thick of the plot.
Trying to find file "name"
Scanning....
ERROR; file not found
Trying to find file "name"
Scanning....
ERROR; file not found
ERROR; Overload detected.
Shutting down in 3...2...1...
Shut down...
Reboot...
6503773
Except, as this is Twilight, it would be in the form of checklists. It might work... Or we might have another Smarty-Pants incident.
Glad to see this updating again.
6507351 Even so, since it has the ability to interpret the spirit of the directive given, (see "be nice"), it could easily be done right if you sit down for an hour trying to foolproof it. Heck, I have written code in about five minutes, then took five more minutes to make it clean and efficient, and never had problems with it. But I guess Equestrians don't have the kind of logic that a programmer would have, unless maybe the pony was a skilled artificer or something...
~Crystalline Electrostatic~
0:13_10/9/2015
6503529 and names is grammar is an awkward thing. As technically 95% of all language is names for things, leaving out very very, very minute amount of words that are not names or "help words".
P.S: Thanks for the compliment.
6507703
That isn't what I... Look, it's just complicated, ok? I don't mean to be insulting by this, but you're arguing with a point I didn't even make, because you don't actually know what it is I'm talking about. If you want to know more about it, I recommend reading this Wikipedia article and the things that it links to, because there is a lot more going into the construction of a language and its formal structure than just which word has which meaning: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Formal_language
6507722 While yes, formal language structure is a lot deeper than simply the words themselves thrown together in jumbled mess. But the original argument was about the intrinsic meaning of names. What is A noun? A name for a thing. What is a verb? A name for an action. Adjectives is names for concepts. And so on.
Anyways as a signing off note here before I indulge my sleep deprived brain in trying to take this argument somewhere I simply don't know any have any knowledge and start slinging empty sentences and insult like a monkey throws. . . Well, excrements. I will simply say my closing statement on the original topic.
Names does not have automaticly have a meaning but rather is given meaning by the one percepting the name and its context. As such every name (as long as the perceptor is aware of it as such) have a meaning to everyone, even if that meaning is also different for everyone.
6507766
Yeah, that's kind of my point: this is specifically the thing I wasn't talking about.
6507258 Thank you, I'm clueless.
6506488 I'm really sorry, I didn't plan to leave it so late, but I was never really satisfied with the past three revisions. I had so many different choices and plot threads. I think I had an in-hospital assassination, a changeling envoy... other things... I think I thought about this chapter more than I've thought about whole other multi-chapter stories. I really care about this one. I just don't want to disappoint anyone following it.
nice chapter. Next one please^^