Thirty: The Permutation Bureau
The
Taste
Of
Grass
By Chatoyance
Thirty: The Permutation Bureau
The glasses at the end of his muzzle were making crinkling and popping sounds, like ice melting during Winter Wrap Up. The gray, stone shapes were turning to golden metal, the gray stone lenses became glass once again. It was then that Windfeather realized that he could not move, and he began to panic.
The strange sound continued; soon the bookish pegasus could feel his entire mouth, and move his lips. He found that though he now had a mouth, he couldn't scream because his chest was still made of stone. He was not breathing, yet he did not die; neither was he suffering except from the horror of the experience itself.
Now Windfeather could turn his head, and move his neck. He swung his view around; the stone that was his body and legs and tail stood on a stone base, the very kind that supported the statues in Celestia's garden.
Slowly his mind wrapped itself around the concept of what must be happening; he was gradually turning from being just such a statue, back into being a living pony. Just a second ago, just an instant, he had been shouting at Celestia, then... the stories were true. The horrifying stories were actually true.
He could move his upraised hoof, now. He had raised it to make a point. That was it. He rotated his hoof and flexed the muscles in his cannon. Just one second and... no. Something in him, something he could not identify felt a strange distance; a distance in time. It felt like having dozed off in the sun for a short nap, and then being surprised to find out that one had slept for hours and hours. Some amount of time had passed, longer than just one second, but beyond that, he could discern nothing more.
The crinkling revivification was spreading downward, soon he would be free. He worked to calm down, to assess his situation. He was a pegasus, after all, and not some dim earth pony, or some pretentious unicorn. He was by nature quick. He would figure this out.
Windfeather looked around, bothering to notice, for the first time, something besides his own body. He was on a dais of some kind, at the center of... something that felt like a workshop. It wasn't a normal workshop; it wasn't even a room in a building as such. It was more of a space, a place, a zone... he had no words. Whatever it was, he had a dim feeling that he had spent a long time here as a statue, on one of the... shelves... here.
The only word he could come up with was shelf; the flat ribbons of layered light streamed in exotic curves round and across and into unfathomable distances. There were things on the shelves, if that is what they truly were, and as Windfeather idly pushed his glasses higher on his nose, he could see that they were ponies.
No, not ponies; the shape, the form, the essence of ponies were there. They were not alive; but they were the form of what a living being might be, and they were all different.
One, near him, began a shelf. It was not a pony as he knew his kind; it was chubby, rounded, with almost no neck. The face was very short, the mouth large. The head drooped low as if the creature were plodding. It had a colorful mane and tail, and some form of cutie mark, though he could not make out what it was. Windfeather had the strange feeling that these were some kind of molds, as if life itself could be poured into the shapes and living creatures would walk out. How did he know this? It was as if some part of him had been aware of his surroundings, despite having been a statue.
The next spirit mold -where did that name come from?- was very different. This was an elegant creature, much thinner and longer of leg. The head high, the muzzle elongated, far more so than the ponies of his generation. Generation? Had there been generations of ponies? No, not just ponies. The part of him that had been aware in the stone whispered to his mind that there had been iterations of his world, of his entire universe. It wasn't just ponies, it was the nature of reality itself.
The third form he saw was stout again; a roly-poly sort of pony reminiscent of the first form, but only marginally more appealing. It looked ridiculous to him; the face short and almost oppressively fetal.
Finally he saw a mold of his own kind. It was unmistakable. That was a pony, that was true ponykind. The elegant shape, the beautiful curves, the perfect muzzle, the lovely mane and tail.
But wait; there was a fifth generation, and a sixth. The fifth was more like the second, thinner and taller. The sixth was almost stylized, almost abstract. As windfeather turned, the strange shelves of light curved on beyond his sight, hundreds, thousands of spirit molds, each different, each more alien than the last.
As the curving shelves returned from the distance, the forms upon them were barely recognizable as ponies at all; some were made of sharp, mathematical planes, others were masses of curves, still others seemed to only represent the idea of ponyness, devoid of shape as he understood it.
Names came to him; a valley of dreams, a garden of friendship, A town of ponies, Equestria, then name after name after name flooded his mind, endless ages whispered to him from the part that had lived even while he had been stone. They were names of the world, the land, the universe itself. Always there were constants; rainbows, princesses, magic, friendship and laughter, music... these were the primal elements that they worked with.
Who worked with? Whose workshop was this?
Beings. There were beings, beyond understanding, beyond reason. Elder gods, they made these iterative universes. And Windfeather began to remember, just as his feet were freed, just as the statue base melted away into the air and he found himself falling to the dais itself - spirits went into the molds and became the ponies in each iteration.
It must have been done to him, long ago, or to his ponykind, the ponykind unique to his Equestria. The bodies changed, the universe changed, but the souls went on, sometimes with new names, new shapes, different personalities, but some essence was always the same and...
Now he was falling, the dais had spiraled open and Windfeather found himself falling down a terrible shaft. The shaft sank through nameless spaces, through time itself, and he knew that he had left the workshop of the gods and he knew not where he was being pulled.
When he could focus again, Windfeather used his hooves to carefully lift up his glasses, and place them on his nose again. Able to focus, he saw that he was standing on a platform made of... something he could not quite describe. It was a little like a cloud and a little like a mass of bubbles. It shimmered in the light; a strange light that came from all around.
When he finally took it in, his mind reeled, and he struggled to keep from screaming.
Equestria was gone. Everything he knew or understood was gone. Windfeather stood on a platform of bubbles in an endless sky streaked with neon curves of light. The sky slowly shifted in patches of pastel colors, against that backdrop. Clusters of strange, fractal shapes drifted, complex beyond understanding, bulbous and covered with protrusions.
The neon snakes of light wove around the bulbous masses, interrupted only by the hanging arches of unsupported rainbows and curious formations of not-cloud that disturbed Windfeather so much that he could not look at them for long.
"Welcome to the Conversion Bureau, Windfeather." The voice was strange, but it had a familiar cadence, and familiar quality. It reminded him of... Celestia.
Windfeather spun, only to look up and see two immense horrors. Vast, like zeppelins, the creatures were great living sacs, balloon like, they swam through the air with gossamer fins extending from long tentacles. Huge, flat eyes gazed down at him. Ethereal curtains of light ran down the backs of the monstrosities, with another curtain, long and ribbon-like, hanging from the back.
One was translucent white with curtains of sea-green, pink and blue, the other dark purple with curtains of deep blue sparkling with tiny, glittering lights.
As his bowels evacuated, as his mind recoiled in horror, Windfeather understood. These floating whales of the air were ponies. They were what ponies had to be, here, in this endless sky of neon streaks and floating globs. These two creatures were Celestia and Luna in this universe, in this generation.
The Celestia-thing laughed, her voice echoing through the strange void. "Yes, Windfeather, it is time to join the herd."
"How... long?" It was all he could do to say that much. His consciousness felt like it might buckle at any moment, crumbling into madness.
The vast floating mass that was Celestia here wriggled tiny tendrils near its front, this was where it made speech. "There are no words that you know to express such passages of time in any meaningful way. A long time. It has been a very long time." The horrific entity seemed as though it were trying to be kind now; Windfeather felt something like pity emanating from the here-Celestia.
"To live forever is a burden, Windfeather. Eternity is made bearable only by change; so it is that there have been many versions of our pony world, each different, yet each retaining the primal elements that define what we are. In this iteration of the world, you are an alien, strange and unfit to survive. The only place you can exist is on this platform, suspended in the void. But there is a way out, if you will take it."
The Celestia-thing wriggled its fins and tendrils and puffed up with air. Lights ran over its gigantic, inflated body.
"Windfeather, this is the Conversion Bureau of this place. Here is your salvation." A long, white tentacle snaked down from somewhere in the folds of the blimp-like body of the strange Celestia; it held in its writhing coils a sphere, a ball of liquid. The liquid was purple, and gleamed with a metallic sheen.
The creature's delicate tendrils wriggled as the strange Celestia recited: "Our plan is to ponifaloonify you, the sooner the better. Expect this to happen when you least expect it. You'll get used to our culture, our food, and our lack of hooves. Trust me, it's easier than it looks. Because ponies can't handle the magic radiating from Aerostatica's borders, becoming a ponifaloon is crucial to expanding the peaceful, friendly aura that surrounds Aerostatica every dae of every monath of every Yuur. Thank you."
Windfeather was screaming now, but his voice was lost in the strange winds of this alien realm. Yet other-Celestia's voice was clear and crisp.
"We welcome you to Aerostatica, with open tentacles and open sacs. Join us and float in peace and harmony. Just drink this, a mere three ounces of ponifaloonification serum, and you will live in love and joy as one of us."
The tiny, alien creature, heavy, solid and filled with bones, stood on the small platform that had been made for him. His weird, round eyes darted from side to side, the pupils small. His ears were flat against his bizarre, hard skull, and though copious amounts of air went inside and out of him, he did not inflate in the least.
The orb of liquid sat in it's nest of writhing Celestia-tentacle. "Go on, Windfeather, it's completely painless. And after you are changed, there will be many friends to help you adjust to your new life." The horrific creature radiated only love and concern.
Somehow, that only made everything worse.
The End
The Lost In The Herd Series:
One: The Big Respawn,
Two: Euphrosyne Unchained,
Three: Letters From Home,
Four: Teacup, Down On The Farm
The Conversion Bureau Novels:
27 Ounces: A story of eight and one half ponies
The Taste Of Grass
The Conversion Bureau: Code Majeste
The Conversion Bureau: The 800 Year Promise
The Conversion Bureau: Going Pony
The Reasonably Adamant Down With Celestia Newfoal Society!
Recombinant 63: A Conversion Bureau Story
HUMAN in Equestria: A Conversion Bureau Story
The PER: Michelson and Morely
Little Blue Cat
Cross The Amazon
Adrift Off Fiddler's Green: The Final Conversion Bureau Story
The Short Stories:
Her Last Possession
The Conversion Bureau: PER Equitum
The Conversion Bureau: Brand New Universe
Tales Of Los Pegasus
The Poly Little Pony
The very first and original
Conversion Bureau Group
archives only the best Three Rules Compatible stories!
Optimalverse Works:
Friendship Is Optimal: Caelum Est Conterrens
Leftovers: A Friendship Is Optimal Story
IMPLACABLE
My Life In Fimbria
Injectorverse Works:
I.D. - That Indestructible Something
The More Conventional Fanfics:
The Ice Cream Pony Summer
Around The Bend
PRIDE related works:
Transspecieality
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Nice got what he deserved
Hard to say if it's cruel or kind. It's both better and worse than the poor, misguided bastard deserves. Poetic justice, perhaps? Torture wrapped in kindness?
Aaand that's how Aerostatica was made.
I don't think this could have possibly ended better!
A very fitting end. I'll admit, I cackled.
*appla...* Cthulestia! *runs and hides*
It was only thinking on Caprice's fate that I can look back and see Celestia's "gotcha" as more than a passing fancy. A subtle but strong admonishment. She has a vindictive streak to her.
... Cruel, and wicked, and yet I cannot stop SMILING!
I approve... Celestia and Luna, I approve so hard! Vengeance, indeed, can be a long time in coming, yet be oh-so-worth it...
Seriously, don't stop writing, you're just getting better and better.
cthulestia!
also, effin' called it, whilst I was away feeling sorry for myself.
Poor Windfeather (giggle).
Bravo! That was a truly excellent story. Thank you so much for writing it!
...
You are gonna draw Aerostatica, right?
And thus the epic tale of the summerland newfoals comes to an end. I shall miss it so
There's a lot more I could say, but to be honest it all comes down to one fine point in the end;
Thankyou. Thankyou for this wonderful enrapturing story *Hugs*
Aww, Tomato Surprise, my favorite!
77314
I think your honest ending was the only right one - but (if you find my comment on chapter 29), I think Caprice was wrong (if you will allow me the temerity of challenging your own characters' viewpoints in your own story!) and my own headcanon is happier, in a way, but also bittersweet in that I think the citizens of Summerland that stayed would come to regret driving her and her family out, and Caprice never knew.
77486
Silly midnight! You wrote that on her blog, not on the story itself!
77487
I just discovered, finally, how to read comments others put on my blogs. Gah! I didn't know you have to click on the blog and scroll down. I'm reading all the comments lots of ponies made.
I am a silly filly.
77494
Yes you are, but I love you anyway :)
That was... just
ing glorious.
I'm finding it very difficult to type this through the flow of tears, but I always get this way when an epic saga comes to an end - and there can be no doubt that your story is deserving of such a title.
It is now official: over the past three months, the insanely talented members of this fandom have made me feel every single emotion under the sun. People like you are what elevates MLP:FIM from being just another "quality television show" into something truly special and indescribable.
Never change, bronies. Even though I'll never meet you in person, I love each and every one of you.
Very nice, an appropriate end to a very bad pony... Looking forward to seeing what you come up with next Chatoyance
"That is not dead which can eternal lie
Yet with strange aeons even Celestia may ponifaloonify"
Friendship is Magic season 112: My Little Ponifaloon.
77776
That was 30% more awesome.
Chatoyance...you...you... genius, madman/woman, visionary, artist, companion to all of us, creater of worlds, you... I commend you, and your work. Your writing skills are some of the best I've seen, and this is one of the best series I've read. Please, for the sake of my sanity, write more.
You have Twilight Zoned and Outer Limited WindFeather. The irony abounds.
I'm used to stories throwing a curveball ending. In this one, you threw the ball straight and then spun the universe around it.
Rod Serling would applaud.
Why must all great stories come to an end? And why must the greatest end sadly for the main characters?
Can somepony please explain to me what the buck just happened? Was this punishment, death, or something else completely? I'm completely lost...
Regardless, this was a magnificent tale, one exceedingly well-told. You have, without a doubt, written the greatest works of fanfiction that my eyes have had the privilege to read. Please, please, PLEASE keep writing.
-Your faithful fan,
Ristar
Gainax would be so VERY proud of this ending.
Trolestia strikes again!
Okay this was totally not a creepy ending. Sunddenly I'm scared of those two. I mean yes they're immortal, but now I'm really starting to wonder just exactly what those two are. They must in reality have a tangible physical form, and in fact must be able to take on whatever form they wish.
Wow. What a trip this story has been! You took a story that you claimed earlier to have no further issues to solve for the plot (at least what I remember from 27 ounces comments) and wove an extrordinary tale from it! I felt with the characters each step of the way, and you wrapped up each scene and issue with intelligence and grace! I could barely put the story down to sleep each night (often, I couldn't) and it replaced my studies some evenings! Honestly, right now I'm rambling, and I can't get a solid, flowing commentary on your work going, but that is only because of how much praise I want to give "A Taste of Grass" and how much it blew my mind! Bravo, Chatoyance!
I don't really understand this. Are those two things Celestia and Luna and is this equestria in the far future? Although I find this fate fitting to Windfeather
Generic compliment since I don't know of any words to describe how I feel about this. It's positive, that's for sure, but that's the only descriptor for my description.
Justice is a dish best served from the tentacles of a ponifaloon. Now Windfeather will discover what it truly means to be a newfoaloon.
An exquisite ending to a delightful tale. Spectacular work as always :)
That's... pretty horrifying, at least to me. Ponies? Heck yeah! They're awesome and relatable. Floating amoeba thingies? I might have chosen to just die instead of conversion.
Trippy. Now, to the alternate endings.
Spectacular! From beginning to end.
But this ending...
Un-muffin-believably awesome!
…Hm. This is not the small town square or royal chamber I was expecting.
…Huh. Okay then!
So, two bonus chapters, and then my stomach informs me that I really must be stopping to eat. I'm not sure what comes next, anyway. Code Majeste? Or is there not a direct sequel to this one as this one was to 27 Ounces?
I really liked this story, had many laughs, felt bad in some parts as well, but nevertheless, this was a great story. The ending of Caprice was saddening, but I couldn't help but feel happy for her in the end though. Although, the very ending of the story kind of threw me a loop there from the unrepentant ending for Windfeather.
Ooookay......
Hm~ I had been pondering, way back twenty chapters ago, how to go about conveying a sense of enormous time passing but in a way that was non-damaging. I was thinking an anesthetic-like experience but one where the memory just kinda piles up but you aren't properly there to process them. Not till it is over.
Oh oh! Is that how you did it~
And to think, you are actually in front of them~ Kind of implies you to be generation zero~ The alpha build!
...Huh~
'Fraid I didn't really get much out of this chapter. Very trippy, though~
This just got weird.