22. What's Up in the Attic
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T H E C O N V E R S I O N B U R E A U :
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CROSS THE AMAZON
By Chatoyance
Chapter Twenty Two: What's Up in the Attic
Deep inside the body of Dr. Calloway Kotani, six unique species of nanomachines began a complex ballet of tasks. The tiny mechanisms had been designed and crafted by very clever men and women, working in association with powerful artificial intelligences. The microscopic robots were the size of viruses, yet even more complex. They were all powered by the thaumatic energies of Equestria, condensed into liquid form.
Because they were driven by extropic forces, they generated no heat as they tirelessly worked. They had many jobs to do, and many carefully calculated stages to achieve before Kotani was transformed from a human into an Equestrian. It was a process so refined now, that it only took twenty minutes from start to conclusion.
At first the meso-scale mechanisms swam through Calloway's blood and lymph and reproduced using available materials. They preferentially sought out fat, tumor cells, and arterial plaque, as well as the heavy metals trapped throughout his tissues thanks to a life drenched in industrial wastes. They were shy about borrowing from implanted technology, however. This had been done to prevent them cannibalizing medical implants that might be required for a subject to live. Within the first twenty-seven seconds the micro-machines had doubled their number. They would continue to increase their population as needs demanded.
One type of the nanomachines specialized in deconstruction. The bones of a human and a pony were virtually identical. To those human scientists and engineers who had created the microscopic robots, it had been revealed that the solar diarch of Equestria had used earthly life, long, long ago, as a template for the creatures of her own world. The connections between Equestria and Mundus ran deep and wide. For Calloway's arms to become forelegs - for example - certain bones would need to be dramatically shortened, while others would require expansion and lengthening.
The machines set to work. Kotani's humerus was attacked by the tiny deconstructor machines. They acted as a mechanical acid - polyatomic ions and free protons tore calcium carbonate apart, dissolving bone at a frightening rate. The shrunken, collapsed bones were pulled together by strong, encapsulating protein strands woven by a second species of nanomachine dedicated to building an internal infrastructure that guarded, and shaped, the developing pony body.
Constructor nanomechanisms took over then, and rebuilt the bones, making them strong and sturdy. Before the protein weavers dismantled their binding strands, they repaired cartilage and tendon while yet another breed of nanomachine worked on muscle and vein, connective tissue, and the rearrangement of fat. Soon, Calloway had a short humerus, a modified ulna - shaped for greater leverage - and robust cannons and pasterns where before fragile metacarpus and phalanges had acted as central finger bones.
The teams of men and women that had labored to find a way to turn a human into an Equestrian had found their great work simplified by the basic similarities between all earthly mammals. All were built on the same plan, all used the same blueprint, and Celestia had borrowed that blueprint for her own universe. Internally, his organs were adapted and remolded, and a multitude of functional improvements were implemented. Celestia had tinkered with the blueprints she had borrowed from earth, and intelligently optimized the haphazard efforts of terrestrial natural selection. During the time that his organs were repaired and improved, Calloway's neck also lengthened, and his coccyx expanded and grew out to become the tail that it had once been, millions of years ago.
After ten minutes, the process of Kotani's Conversion was half completed. Two mechanical breeds of the six began to rapidly collect within his brain and spinal column. They had a daunting, but not impossible task: to reconfigure Calloway's brain while retaining his identity and memories. As his skull was dissolved, enlarged, reshaped, and hardened once again, his brain began a rapid series of expansions and reductions in both its mass and structure. He would soon be smarter, but also vastly less aggressive. He would gain a nearly infinite Dunbar's number - everypony would be family at some level to him, and no life would be worthless or expendable ever again. His capacity to care and nurture was enhanced, while his selfishness and territoriality was reduced. But above all, the wiring of the hunter-gatherer that had evolved to raid and rape and kill and fight was remade into the configuration of the herd animal designed by the princesses of Equestria to be a integral part of the workings of Equestrian reality itself.
Gone forever was the killer ape, and in its place was the gentle pony temperament established.
By fifteen minutes, Calloway's body was nearly complete, with the exaggerated fingernails that were hooves sprouting from the bulbs of his nearly finished legs. Everything that happened to his body was complex, but except for the extraversal source of power that the tiny laborers used, explainable within physical terms. Kotani's species change was less a magical transformation than a clever rearrangement of the puzzle pieces of the machinery of his body. Everything of him that was visible to the human eye was still essentially governed by terrestrial physical laws.
But what was not visible to the human eye became rich, and strange, and otherworldly. That same energy which drove the microscopic devices also possessed its own, private agenda. More than mere driving power, it could and had been programmed. The power source of the nanobots was itself the Equestrian equivalent of them. Spells woven upon spells, following logical steps to an alien conclusion. Beneath the veil of reality, as the human's tiny machines moved atoms and molecules and spun proteins and lipids, the thaumatic engine that powered them altered those same atoms into their cubical Equestrian equivalents. Calloway Kotani was not merely rebuilt, he was, in the end, converted into unearthly substance. E-Matter, Equestrian atoms, molecules and forces. But there was still more - beneath the veil, Calloway's entire pattern, body and brain, was duplicated in arcane form. Superimposed upon his physicality was now a superphysical thaumatic couplement, a spectral self that could not be broken nor dissolved by time. In human cultural terms, he was manufactured a real and immortal soul.
By the time twenty minutes were up, and Calloway was completely a pony, by the time that the tiny nanomachines broke themselves down into simple sugars within his blood, he was not merely ponified - his very substance and self had become literally otherworldly.
Calloway had bought a special adapter for his MicroSony Mindset. It attached to the top and back of the helmet-like peripheral, and interfaced directly with the implant in his brain through inductance. He had always disliked cranial jacks and ports - they were difficult to clean. Inductance happened through the skin, without the need of portholes in his skin. Nothing to get infected, nothing to have to clean out. Calloway liked things simple and easy.
He enjoyed a lot of games - exploration games, puzzle games, and role-playing worlds especially. But time and again he returned to Slaughterstrike. First person shooters were team sports, they were exciting, they had a curious rhythm to them - a flow of advance and retreat - that struck some emotional chord in him. He overlooked the bloodshed - his enjoyment came from teamwork. He liked to feel victorious of course, to see anyone capture a location, or take the other team's McGuffin and dash home to base. It did not have to be he himself doing such grand tasks - he simply liked believing that the shared victory would not have happened without him. He liked to feel as if he mattered to others.
He often played those roles in the game that suited this ethic. Medic was a favorite, healing and buffing teammates. He also enjoyed playing Engineer, repairing vehicles, fixing bases, getting generators or vehicles up just in time. But sometimes, when he was angry at his job, or lonely, or upset in general, then he would pick a front line assault class and try to frag with the best of them.
But he was never the best of them - he just no longer had the microsecond mental responses of the younger players. Still, when he got a clever snipe, or managed a rampage through two or three opponents in succession, it got the mad out of his heart, and made him feel powerful. He never felt powerful in real life.
Calloway worked on the catapult. He was playing engineer in the second of Slaughterstrike's five standard time zones. The first was referred to by most players as 'Caveman'. The ancient realm unrealistically paired early, hairy hominids with dinosaurs. The engineer role within that time zone involved hosing the beasts down to cool their 'overheat' status with tiny mammoths that squirted cool water. The weapons were clubs, rocks, and spears.
The 'Medieval' zone featured knights, crossbows, and castles - and the catapult that Calloway was working on. Next came 'WW2' with the usual tanks and guns, after that 'Modern' - a favorite with the Blackmesh wannabes. It covered the unification of the globe during the aftermath of the Austerity Wars. Lastly the futuristic 'Mechfight', which offered various sizes of giant robots and superscience force fields and beams.
In every case, Calloway's usual playstyle involved hanging back and watering the dinos, putting a wrench to the tanks, or using repair beams on the mechs. Or, like today, hammering away on the mobile catapults, to keep them working.
The aggressive punks always lone-wolfed ahead to engage the enemy right away, seldom working as a team. Calloway hung back, found their burning wrecks - or panting dinos - and set to work fixing them up. As soon as he was done, some trigger-pumping jerk would jump in or on, and rush back into the fray without so much as a thank you.
But at the end of the match, Calloway got his reward. It was easy to see, from the game stats, that his actions often turned the tide of battle. That final push, or game winning cap could not have been done without a lot of tanks, and usually Calloway alone was responsible for the fact any tanks remained at all. Slaughterstrike was not generous with respawns - it was part of its charm - and the loss of equipment and men held real weight. Not that most players understood this as they ran forward and got themselves shot up. There had been more than one match where Calloway had found himself the last surviving member of his team, spoilt for choice with a fleet of tanks, dinos, mechs or whatever - and one last lone-wolf enemy to hunt down for victory.
Sadly, despite having all the big toys, he was usually shanked in the back by the younger, faster player.
Calloway hammered away at the catapult, whistling a merry tune. He'd always liked the Medieval zone. Wide, green fields usually surrounded the castle bases, and trees towered to the sky. On the times he himself joined the actual fighting, he enjoyed lurking in the forests and running out for a quick frag before ducking back in to hide. Thick bushes were his best friends in Medieval Slaughterstrike. His score was not high, but he usually survived all the way to the final tally. He hated getting fragged, and being forced to watch like a ghost, while those living finished the match.
The catapult was almost finished. Just a few more blows with the hammer, and the last cracks in the busted wheels would vanish.
* SPECIAL DROP! *
A wooden crate fell from the blue sky, drifting down on a suspiciously da Vinci-looking screw propeller. That was new. In all the time he had played Slaughterstrike, through all five iterations, he'd never seen a da Vinci crate.
Calloway left the unfinished repair of the catapult and walked to the drop. The crate was an elaborately carved wooden cube almost as tall as he was. A single blow from his hammer broke the crate open. Inside was a very strange new weapon.
It wasn't a sword, or a club, or a crossbow. It wasn't even his favorite, the multi-purpose Halberd. If anything, it looked like... a gun. It had a stock, a grip, and a trigger, but extending from it was a long, white, spiral cone that shimmered with subtle rainbow colors. Calloway picked up the bizarre weapon drop. On the side of the stock, the strange device was labeled 'Alicornitron Ray'. That was just plain wrong! By the name and shape, it should have come from a later time zone. The Mech realm. But the construction was polished wood, brass, and... a horn. Had they decided to introduce fantasy elements - magic - into Slaughterstrike? That was something fans had been demanding for some time. Fireballs, and a wizard class were popular suggestions in the Slaughterstrike forums.
He felt the weight and heft of the strange weapon. It seemed legit. He pointed it at a nearby tree and pulled the trigger. A rainbow beam arced out, showering the tree in chatoyant ribbons of arcane force. "Whoa!"
The tree did not explode. Neither did it burn. Instead... it looked significantly more beautiful. It wasn't just an upgrade in texture resolution - the entire design and look of the tree was new - and much more pleasing. Instead of a dark, dreary tree, the bright, colorful replacement felt cheery and inviting. It was a tree from a different sort of game entirely. Calloway walked to the tree and touched it. The intracranial haptic feedback system informed him that somehow the tree even felt better.
It was then that he heard the stomping rush and jangle of a soldier covered in chainmail. The player was not part of his team, and by the morning star spinning over the running warrior's head, he meant to do Calloway some harm. The magical ray gun was in his hands. Calloway aimed and fired.
The ribbons of color wrapped the enemy soldier in brilliant colors, covering him completely like a mummy. The enwrapped shape began to shrink and alter its contours. The spectral energies faded. In the place of the fearsome rushing player with murder on his mind, stood a cute powder-blue pegasus stallion dressed in tailored medieval garb. The little pony looked up at Calloway, blinked several times, and smiled.
"Hello! Wanna be friends?"
Calloway stepped back, astonished. Had the anomaly in the Pacific been included within the game? Did Slaughterstrike actually have ponies in it now? "Um... hello? Are... are you okay?"
The tunic-wearing pony nodded. "Yes! I feel great - thanks for asking." The pegasus stallion looked back at the castle behind the catapult depot. "You know... I like playing engineer too, usually. I was thinking - I can lift things, even push them through the sky. Weight almost doesn't matter. I'm thinking we could rebuild that castle a bit. I think we could make it... at least ten, maybe twenty percent cooler looking. If we worked together." The pegasus smiled up at Calloway.
"W-what about the battle? The other members of your team?" More and more of this was not making sense. "You're supposed to be on the other team!"
The newly made stallion laughed. "I'm not on any team, right now. I'm just playing. For fun! So, you wanna fight, or you wanna build and play?"
Calloway looked back at the still unrepaired catapult. "Actually... every time I've ever played this game, I always wanted to be able to enjoy the castle, explore the lands beyond... and yeah, that castle could be a lot neater looking. Fighting was fun, for a while... but it gets repetitive, you know? Bang bang, you're dead, over and over and over."
"Well, then!" The dark gray maned pegasus smiled. "Let's get you ready to play then!"
"Ready? To play?" Calloway looked around. He couldn't hear the distant sounds of battle anymore. Only birds and running water met his ears. It was very soothing, and strangely musical.
"Well, you're not going to be much help as an armored warrior. You've got the special pick-up in your hands. Turn it around, give yourself a blast, and let's get busy building a better castle!"
"I can change class with this?" Calloway held the Alicornitron Ray up to the level of his eyes and studied its construction. It was remarkably detailed for such a whimsical game asset.
The blue and gray pegasus laughed again. "Yeah. That's what it does. It frees you from teams, gives you a new class, and buffs you with magic powers. Oh, infinite lives, too. It's a bit of a cheat, I suppose, but it's also a lot more fun than the base game. You see those hills?"
Calloway looked beyond the castle to the mysterious hills in the distance. He'd always wanted to see what was beyond them. Once, he had even tried, but he had left the Battle Zone and was informed that if he didn't return to the fight, he would be killed as a deserter. He returned as the seconds counted down. Just in time. "Yeah?"
"No zone limit. No skybox. No invisible walls. If you don't want to play with the castle, we could just go exploring. For as long as you want."
"Seriously? This cheat does that? How? Some kind of procedural add-on to the code? How does this even..."
"Something like that." The pegasus stallion swished his tail. "So... what will it be? Back to the stabbing or hooves into the horizon?"
"Hooves." Calloway turned the strange ray gun around and pointed it at his heart. "Does it hurt?"
The former enemy warrior shook his pony head. "Only if you can't forgive yourself. Pro-tip: just let everything before go. You couldn't help it, you were bound by the rules of the game. It's a new game now. New rules. Be a foal. Start fresh. Respawn."
Calloway nodded. As he pulled the trigger, as the rainbow cascade of light surrounded him, the little stallion watching him also began to change. He grew massively in height, blanching to snow-pure white. His gray mane flared up into a rippling field, the colors of the dawn. His tunic turned to a gold peytral, set with a violet jewel. Calloway managed one word, as he shrank and changed - "Celestia!"
The solar diarch, the sun princess of all Equestria winked at him with a sly grin. "Gotcha."
The Newfoal on the bed was laughing even before he was fully awake. He had begun laughing in his sleep, and his own guffaws had brought him out of his apparently hilarious dreams.
"Calloway?" Dropspindle lay near the brand new stallion. She had waited patiently despite her worries about his long unconsciousness, for nearly an hour. Captain Cudicini had explained to her that it took time for the anesthesia to wear off, that he knew the timing well - but she would have none of it. She would not leave Calloway alone for a moment. Not even a banana smoothie on the cloud deck could tempt her. Dropdpindle had heard a great deal about the effort to save the humans, about the Bureaus and Conversion and Newfoals. But she had never actually met a Newfoal. The magnitude of what had just happened to Calloway had finally hit her. The naked ape she had traveled thousands of kilometers with was no longer naked. And, more to the point, he was no longer an ape.
Calloway slowly opened his brand new eyes. Colors leapt at him, some he had no names for. His ears twitched with his sudden emotion, and they became his single focus of interest for a few moments. Gradually it dawned on him that he had a tail, and he spent some quality time swishing and flopping it about on the bed. He couldn't help but giggle - he felt wonderful!
"Calloway!" Dropspindle wanted to crawl forward and nuzzle him, pony to pony, but she felt frozen to the spot. It was so incredibly strange - even for a mare raised in a universe of magic and wonder. This astonishing total bodily transformation was new and incredible to her. She felt confused and unsure how to act. Would he want to be treated as a pony now, or would he still think of himself as human? What exactly was he, really? Was it still even Calloway at all? He looked utterly different. Everything she had been taught about Newfoals somehow didn't seem to matter now that she was confronted with the reality right in front of her.
Calloway drowsily focused his large purple eyes on his adventuring companion. "Dropspindle? Oh! That's weird!"
Dropspindle crawled slightly closer. "What?"
"My mouth! My teeth are all different... and my voice! Oh, that's... well, actually, it still sounds like me, just younger. Huh. 'Three hundred more birthdays' - that's what it says on the Bureau posters, right? I guess getting youth... re-youthed... de-aged? I guess that's part of... Dropspindle!"
"Yes?" She wormed herself a little closer still, fascinated by this strange new creature before her, yet still somehow the same old creature too.
"I'm not too young, am I? I'm not a foal or anything, right?"
Dropspindle chuckled. "No. A little younger than me, but not by much. You're not a foal or colt. You're an adult. Young, but adult."
"This is all so weird!" Calloway spent some time marveling at his forehooves, turning them this way and that, studying them with the intensity of the scientist he was. "The really odd thing is that all of this maps. I don't feel like this new body is wrong, or that anything is out of place. I guess my internal homunculus... pon...unculus? Is that even a word? I guess it was altered to fit my new form. Good thing, actually! It would pretty much suck to be stuck in a pony body and hate it." He rolled onto his side, toward Dropspindle, then continued onto his back. Dropspindle found herself pressed up against the powder-blue stallion.
"Hey! Look! I'm blue! Like you... sort of. A lighter shade. Huh! Like in my dream." Calloway's new muzzle frowned. "Ouch... something... something hurts on my... back?" He rolled rapidly away from Dropspindle, back onto his stomach. "Will you look at these!"
Calloway extended his wings, noticing them fully for the first time. "I've got... wings! What the pastry? They hurt if you roll on them wrong! I need to remember that. I... sweet Luna but I feel giddy! Am I giddy? Because I feel giddy. Really super, duper giddy. I think."
"Bertrand... told me that when you woke up, you'd be... silly... for a while. Maybe even an entire day. He called it 'conversion euphoria'. He said it's normal. It happens because so much has changed, and because, apparently, being human hurts somehow, and becoming a pony is a relief. And there are... brain chemicals, too." Dropspindle felt mesmerized by how Calloway seemed delighted with the smallest things about his new body - things she had always taken entirely for granted. He couldn't seem to get enough of playing with his ears and tail. He even licked his hooves and laughed, as if it were the most wonderful thing in all the world.
"Hoo! I... I do feel good. I feel really, really good. No pain anywhere - bagels for breakfast, I feel fresh and new and every joint, every muscle... I feel like I was just born! I guess I am new. New... foal. Newfoal. Ahh! It makes sense now. It's hard to express how giggly I feel, Dropspindle. It's not like any drug, it's definitely not like booze. I... it's... I just feel really super healthy, super genki, you know? And content, and glad, and happy and... oh, the colors and especially the smells..." Calloway sniffed briefly. "Lemon. You ate a lemon pastry and... drank hibiscus tea. Not that long ago. My Celestia... I'm smelling that through your abdomen! WOW!"
He had flipped around and had his muzzle pressed into Dropspindle's side now. He was sniffing and even gave a lick, as if he expected to taste her snack through her somehow.
"CALLOWAY!" Dropspindle couldn't help but giggle, his sniffing nose tickled and the entire thing was just so ridiculous. "What are... you really are silly, aren't you?"
Calloway had already given up on Dropspindle's belly and was now trying to sniff - and taste - his own wings. He looked up, his pinions in his mouth. "Mfph?"
Dropspindle laughed. "Now stop that - you'll get your feathers all droopy and you won't like that. Goodness... it really is like taking care of a foal with you, isn't it? There - stretch them out, now give them a flap. That's it. Do that a few times and they'll dry off." Dropspindle sniffed. "You smell better, I have to say that. As an ape you were pretty stinky, honestly. I can see why they call you 'skunk apes'."
"Who calls humans that?" Calloway was trying to catch his tail in his teeth. So far, his tail was winning.
"Some ponies that have visited earth and returned. We had to talk with them as part of the preparation class. I probably should have paid more attention." For a moment, Dropspindle looked sad. Then her ears raised up again. "But... maybe it was worth it, to see this. Your... joy... it's kind of catching, somehow. Careful! Not so hard..."
"Ow!"
"Well, what do you expect? That's your own tail! You can't bite it like that and expect it not to hurt!"
"Logged and noted. 'Don't bite tail hard'. There's so much to learn!"
Dropspindle laughed again. "You are one seriously goofy pony, Calloway."
"You didn't even get to see him have his First Meal As A Pony? Oh, Bertie, sweet Bertand... that is simply a moment not to be missed! In every Bureau, literally everywhere, it's become a universal tradition! Because it's so much fun! That first meal, with new pony senses - well, you've certainly heard me go on about my time and... oh, I wish you'd taken a holo of the entire thing!"
Captain Bertrand Cudicini sat at the expansive, antique desk inside his private suite. On the desk was an elaborately carved chest, about the size of a shoebox, and like the ancient desk, it was made of wood. Unlike the desk, the chest was made of wood from another cosmos - it was on loan from the nocturnal princess herself. Within it was an ornate, bejewled oval mirror, which could be set upright within a slot shaped into the velvet that lined the box.
The mirror radiated so much thaumatic energy, that merely to set it into position, Cudicini had to use a pair of special tongs - he dared not handle the artifact directly.
Its primary purpose - and the reason for his possession of it - was that the mirror allowed direct communication with the princess, should that be necessary. And it had been necessary, four times thus far. The mirror did not reflect what was around it - rather it only reflected images from other universes. It could make a link between itself and any mirror of any kind, anywhere, so long as it was outside the universe in which it existed.
Cudicini had been granted the additional privilege of using it for his own purpose, as a special kindness for his help in the past. That purpose was to speak with, and see, his lover and best friend - who now resided behind the Barrier, within Equestria. "I did not want to interrupt them in any way, love. Both of them have been through the most terrible of adventures, as I described. I am not in any way exaggerating about how emotionally damaged the mare is - she is deeply wounded. I believe that her salvation is to be found in nurturing that silly little man - stallion, now. I got the idea from you, beloved - what you told me last time about how Equestrians are defined by the way they care for others." Bertrand sipped some of the wine he had taken to his room. "But I can assure you the platter I had Ernesto deliver was a smorgasbord of Equestrian delights beyond compare. No Bureau could ever match it!"
"Now I'm jealous! Pout!" There was a giggle from the mirror. "You made Ernie play maid? Really?"
Bertand laughed. "Actually, he was eager to do it. He wanted to see the new doctor Kotani very much, for some reason. Perhaps I will be losing my navigator and his family before our mission is complete. He's been moving in the direction of going pony for some time now."
The Equestrian on the other end of the transversal mirror looked sad. "I wish that Ernie would lose you instead. I want you to come home. To me. If Ernesto takes the purple... join him? I miss you. I miss you every day!"
Bertrand studied his hands. Then he looked back up to the universe defying artifact. "And I miss you. But I have to see this through, at least a little longer - besides, our princess has come to depend on me! I am one of her many secret hooves, a member of her spectral forces, hiding in the shadows of midnight!"
"Ooh! I liked that one!" The pony grinned. "Still, think about it, please? There can't be much of that wretched globe left, can there? I was glad to get to leave it. I'll never understand what you are trying to find flying around back there."
Betrand sighed and blew a kiss to the stallion of his dreams inside the mirror. "Myself, I think. Love, I'm trying to understand what it meant to have been a man, before I join you, and become a stallion. And I need to see this world, truly see it, before I leave it behind. I don't want to spend the next three centuries feeling like I left something undone, something I can never do. And I truly am helping the princess, in my little way. Be patient, my light. This can only last two more years at the very most. 'There Is No Year Eight!'"
"Just get here before the Barrier gets you. That's all I ask."
"I will. I promise. Earth may ride me currently, but it is not my true rider."
Through the mirror that connected two universes, a golden stallion smirked and laughed. "You are such a naughty little pony!"
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And that was such a great story!
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Still one chapter left to go.
Epithets, huh? We are often led to believe that ponies are better than that... and it seems to be the sort of thing ponies understand they should only say in the company of other ponies, which makes it all the worse. The constant scorn heaped on Earth just for being what it is is also off-putting—condescension breeds resentment, and those humans who would lap it up would be seen as capitulative at best, Uncle Toms at worst. Still, as a narrative device it would easily be the main source of the HLF's social capital: if you don't much feel like self-flagellating to the satisfaction of the Other, you might as well try your hand at wiping some smiles off faces.
In short, ponies don't seem to respect humans, or the respect shown is superficial, meant only for placation. If it were to be argued that humans are due or deserve no respect, well, then that would mean that ponies have judged humanity for being human, itself something that seems rather un-ponylike. In the Chatoverse, Celestia has dragged her subjects along on the matter, and there is some dissent. Dissent suggests that humans sit as an exemption to the undefined* Dunbar's number of friends, since, if no effort is made to help them, their plight rates, socially, little more than a shrug in the timeline of Equestrian history. If all humans were truly friends, ponies would see things as Celestia does, just not for the same reason. She has a promise to keep, they have friends who need help! Simple as that. Let's get busy.
* mathematically, instead of calling the Dunbar value "infinite" for ponies, the concept of such a value would itself simply not exist in the first place, like the slope of a vertical line
No apostrophe in the S.
img.pandawhale.com/157277-Peter-Griffin-ah-she-said-it-s-M6sb.jpeg
...I knew it. The minute we started guessing Unicorn and Earth Pony you went straight to Pegasus. Chatty remind me to stop giving you ideas.
Anyway I'm surprised at what his conversion dream turned out to be. It would seem that they can be way more varied then I thought. Anyway I approve of silly Calloway pony.
Anyway looking foreword to the conclusion.
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Son, you gots you a burr under your saddle, and sometimes you almost come across like one o'them HLF types, always seein' the dark side when it comes to ponies and such. Now before you fall off your spindle and start jigging on about 'Tyrantlestia' and joinin' the Anti Bastards, lemme set you straight.
You see, son, the Skunk Ape (From Wikipedia) is a name humans done gave the Sasquatch an' Yeti and such, and if these critters exist, they would be our nearest relative, Giganthropithicus, somehow survivin' in the margins to this very day.
Now, it's done well known by them sciencey-folks that humans are the smelliest darn fool animal on the planet. As your author, I took these two pieces of information, well established, well documented things the both o'them, (whether or not the Sasquatch exists, the reports are still universal), and I reasoned it simply and logically that if you are a sweet-smellin-like-flowers pony with a sniffer' 20,000 times greater than a human, and humans are primates, and if humans are the stinkiest of the primates, then it only goes to reason that we'd be the Skunk Apes to them!
Now this isn't no epithet - it's a fact for 'ol Dropspindle and her kind. They ain't saying nothin' mean by it, so calm your hackles there boy, it's not said mean - go back an' read the passage in the chapter agin, if'n ya don't believe me - Dropspindle's just statin' a fact, and Calloway, fer his part, isn't upset now is he? No, he ain't.
So if the former human ain't upset, and if Dropspindle's only tellin' the scientific truth, then you got no place getting all riled up because she done called your kind skunky, because dammit, son, science says ya' are, and that's a gol-durned fact.
6302485
Skunk apes could be said in a spiteful and malicious way, or in a lighthearted joking way. Dropspindle doesn't seem malicious here, and we have no context for the other ponies. I guess I just don't see any need to assume the worst.
Also, at the end of a hot sweaty day, this particular ape descendant doesn't smell like roses. I have no right to complain.
At this point, all I want to know is what Calloway's new name and cutie mark are going to be.
6302564
FIXED!
And yes, I did.
6302485 In my conception/iteration of the conversion bureau, the whole idea of ponification amongst Equestrians was much more "Bottom-to-top", rather than "Top-to-Bottom". It starts with several commoner ponies and their human partners petitioning Princess Twilight to develop a safe way to transform humans for all the benefits that entails and Twilight ends up agreeing in large part because she can't think of how she has a right to say no in such an instance.
Ponies are more compelling to me to write in a bureau situation when they view their own position less as "I'm dragging your butt to safety," and more, "I love you so much for doing so many things that should be impossible in your world, I would love to see what you'll do in mine."
But, Chatoyance's world and ponies are hers, and it is a riveting experience to read.
Oh... oh Sun and Moon, Chat... this was...
... I can't find the words. I truly can't. I mentioned earlier that this gave me flashbacks to Taste of Grass and the like? This chapter specifically took me all the way back to The Big Respawn, and not just because of Celestia's little joke with Kotani. I felt just as giddy and happy back then reading that story and felt the same here. Wow...
... ... I think I should sleep. I'm getting quite silly myself, perhaps.
One last thing, though? VERY adorable and touching scene with Bertrand and his ponified wife. That's so sweet!
Hydroxylapatite is the mineral of bone. Teeth are fluorapatite. Teeth can demineralize, but if placed in an environment with calcium ions, carbonate ions and fluoride ions, teeth can remineralize. All of these ions are common except fluoride ions. When municipalities started adding sodium fluoride to water as a value-added thing (as a byproduct of fertilizer-production, sodium fluoride is cheap and plentiful), the tinfoil-mafia, as they are called on "⸘Ask an Atheist‽", went apeshit.
Apatites are calcium minerals with phosphate and another anion (Ca5(PO4)3n). N represents the other anion. Hydroxylapatite is Ca5(PO4)3OH and Fluorapatite is Ca5(PO4)3F.
Apatites ofter exhibit Chatoyancy.
As I said, a lot to like. I'm sorry to see this end, but I'm still looking forward to the conclusion.
6302637
Now if only we could spray said smell as a defense mechanism like a skunk can.
Its interesting to finally get a close up look at what exactly takes place during conversion although its about what I had expected it to be. I'm assuming the the increases in brain size are largely centered around the pre-frontal cortex since I've always believed that ponies would have a much larger one then humans which would give them far better developed higher brain functions then humans. On the other hand I'm also guessing the reductions in brain are largely in the amygdala since this is the area of the brain that governs aggressive behavior. These changes to brain structure would make sense since the main reason us humans are so aggressive is cause we have a pre-frontal cortex that is too small and an amygdala that's too big.
I bet he'd be a Pegasus. Really enjoying this story Chat. Can't wait for the finale.
6302637
6302638
You seem to be under the impression that people would take issue with the epithet because they don't think it's true, as your main argument has been "but humans do stink, so it's okay!"
Well, no. There's already a word for a human, and it's "human." In calling a human a "skunk ape" there is an invitation to reduce the human to an identity broader than what individuality could fit into. That's the core function of an epithet. There is stigma in smelling bad, and "skunk ape" is a gleeful opportunity to bring the stigma to the forefront, suggesting it forms the identity a human deserves. Could a pony claim ignorance of that? I'm pretty sure they don't like smelling bad either. It's hard to strip the scorn from the sentiment of "you are nothing more than a stinky iteration of your evolutionary priors" before you imply it. What verbal gymnastics would do the trick? I sure as hell don't know.
I totally buy that a pony would use the term. What I don't buy that a pony could—or would—use the term as anything but derogatory. Let's look at the context in which Dropspindle mentioned it. She's talking about ponies coming back from Earth; she didn't exactly pull a Marge Schott herself. I realize that, though it seemed to be taken that I was accusing Dropspindle herself of using the term. For all we know, however, she has. She certainly knows of it.
Anyway, she imparts it to newfoal Kotani. What does this tell us about what's happening back in Equestria? So you're a pony, you're back home fresh from a tour in the universe governed by Absolute Order, no humans are around to say boo, time to wow the locals, right? So you let it rip. "Skunk apes, that's what they are. They're like shaven gorillas with BO, lemme tell ya. Worth three-fifths of a pony at best, if you ask me. Probably beat their chests while nopony's looking." You get some laughs. Mission accomplished. It's not like you said anything bad—humans do stink, so it's okay!
I mean, ponies are asking about humans and that's how they're getting summed up? Is "oh, they're people like us" just not interesting enough of a lead-off to hold attention?
Fritterin' spies...
That and the fact that the nanomachines turned themselves into sugars.
6302637 Also, who says "skunk" is derogatory anyway?
6303464 I often have my Balloonicorn out, which I've given the description tag: "Friendship is Helium."
6305247
Generally, no. Universally, no. If they're just like us, then, well, that's pretty boring. Nothing new there. Nothing to be fascinated by, or scared of, or freaked out about, or worth a second glance at all.
Sorry. My ponies are not perfect - contrary to the bullshit spewed about me and my works, my Equestrians are complex. Some like humans, some are afraid of them, a very few want them to go away, far, far away. Some want to be friends with humans, some lovers, some want to make bits from humans by prancing with clothes on in Dress Clubs.
My ponies aren't candy fairies from the sugar bowl. Some are bigoted - in their own way, according to their cultural version of it. Some are disgusted with humans. Not all agree with Celestia letting Humans in, even as Newfoals. Some will learn to like the Newfoals, in time, others will not.
Ponies aren't like humans in my stories, but they are not completely alien, either. There are some 'just folks' traits in common. They are arguably better than Man, but they are not perfect. There are dickish native ponies. Not as bad as some of the worst cartoon writers would have it, but not always nice all the time, either.
I find my take on ponies interesting, because although they have some traits in common with humans, they express them differently, which is curious to me. I don't write perfect beings - everything and everyone (and everypony) in my stories has flaws. Especially Celestia and Luna.
So, yes, some ponies do describe humans in unflattering terms and reduce them to objects of humor, scorn, or fear. As they do with diamond dogs and dragons, you might notice. And each other, sometimes. But, unlike humans, they won't do anything terrible despite their statements... except for one or two, which I have already written about.
So, finally understanding you, sure, you are correct. Ponies can and do sometimes describe humans in ways that are less than sweet or kind. Because there are all sorts in Equestria. They are different from us, but also in ways the same. Better, but never perfect.
6305570
One thousand times agreed. My mother, when she was a child, had a pet skunk. She told me it was just about the most lovable thing imaginable, and, oddly, a little like a cat. Skunks are pretty, loving, clever and fun. I like skunks. I don't enjoy upset or scared skunks.
But then, I don't favor upset or scared humans, either.
6305319
That's what happens when you try to remember something you saw almost 40 years earlier.
6305720
All that I'm okay with. I agree with that vision of ponies. "Skunk ape" could only come from a prejudiced place, even if it's the "innocent" kind of prejudice born of not having known any humans firsthand(hoof). Some cultural missteps, a lack of sense of what is considered appropriate. If you're not around humans, you might not realize how insulting it could be taken as.
6305570
Well, I say "skunk" is derogatory, for one. Skunks are broadly used as a point of reference for one thing, and it ain't cuddliness.
6306084
You have clearly never run across a curious, non-scared skunk. Living on a little over an acre, with lots of woods, we get plenty of critters. Voles, groundhogs, hawks, foxes, deer, bunnies... and skunks. And they were some of the friendliest things you could ever encounter. They'd sniff and nose at you, chirr a bit, and waddle off to go hunting for their dinner.
Or maybe I just consistently roll 20's on my Animal Magnetism. To this day, I have never figured out why wild animals are so calm around me.
6306014 That's a neat trick, considering it came out around 31 years ago. Unless there's another source for seaponies that is older?
6307307
It feels like 40. And it was forced exposure by my spoiled-rotten-to-the-core kid sister, although even that memory is subject to revision due to kid-sister induced PTSD.
6307339 Ah. Got it.
6306394
Skunks make pretty good pets, I've heard. Omnivorous, so cheaper to feed than a carnivore. Nonaggressive, at least compared to other weasel relatives. Completely lacking in any skittishness or avoidance many animals display towards humans (for obvious reasons). Only trouble is when they spray, which... technically can be removed surgically. Oh, the other trouble is that in a tame environment they can get really reeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllly fat. Also they're diggers, so potted plants beware.
One person I knew once who had a skunk as a pet, said they liked to burrow under their pillow while they were sleeping and go to sleep there. <3
If only Dropspindle could watch the nano-machines weave body and soul, that must certainly be a sight! I always was a huge sucker for conversion scenes and their dreams, and I smiled warmly. Enjoy the freedom of wings, and magic with that lovely mare, Calloway!
Semi-related, I always found myself playing supports in games in various ways, often healing or curing debuffs (or inflicting them), to just simply causing as much chaos and disruption before dropping so to make an advantage for my teammates. Though regardless of the game I play, be it shooters or building games or otherwise, I oft find myself trying to secure food, supplies, better tech, build them homes, and healing to my friends.
Back to the story, so Calloway was talking to himself in that dream there, even playing with himself in a way, eh? In a way, he made peace with himself. Hehehe. I'm with him on that, screw teams and borders and banners and stuff, I just wanna build and live and laugh too!
Ah, the happy feelings right now...
Iknewit!Iknewit!lknewit!!
You thought it was Luna, silly filly.
Shush.