A Volunteer at the Bureau

by Comma Typer

To Little Reunions

Sam woke up and, this time, he was not awakened by a flying pegasus outside his window. Instead, he woke up as normal, relying on the alarm clock beside him to do its job and brrring! him out of his bed.

After a quick shower and a new change of clothes with some cologne tacked on, Sam left his room, then left his floor, then left the lobby, then left the building. He rechecked his pockets to see if his ID was there, and there it was in his pants.

As he waited for Arthur to come over and get him outside, there he sat once again by the table, looking over Glasgow Place and West Century Boulevard a bit ahead.. However, instead of paying attention to the glut of activity outside of McDonald’s with its recurrent line of cars and its happy-perky drive-thru pony—instead of that, his mind pulled him back into contemplation.

The sound of cars and chatter in the background and the cute voice the occasional mare would make...actually, that reminded him of hearing the voice of one of Equestria’s heroines, Pinkie Pie, when she was interviewed on TV a year or so ago.

Back then, he’d been watching it at a hometown café as the Earth-and-Equus information overload of news came rushing over. The panic over the Veil taking over Hawaii and Equus’s collective relief efforts to help them out had been the short-term headlines of the day. However, the long-term stories had always gained traction: the first contact of extraterrestrial (or extradimensional) beings, the subsequent discovery of magic, and the imminent end of Earth as humans had known it in less than ten years’ time.

In a supreme effort to relay as much information about this new universe to the human public, outlets like CNN and Fox got to interviewing as many of these Equestrians as possible: to know their way of life, to know their ideologies and their beliefs, to know the current status of things in their world….

One thing Earth and Equus found out was that, apparently, celebrities were a thing in both worlds, not least of which was the Elements of Harmony, multi-time saviors of Equestria—Pinkie Pie being one of them.

Of course, with Pinkie’s reputation as a world hero, she’d been expected to speak in an interview done by human news outlets. They’d also expected her to be upbeat. She was the Element of Laughter, after all.

What those outlets didn’t expect was how upbeat she really was.

As if to affirm that, yes, Pinkie fulfilled her Element in both dimensions, Sam chuckled at remembering that moment. Everyone in the eatery had already been staring at the screen for further inter-dimensional developments. Then, this pink pony with balloons as her cutie mark...she’d unleashed her high-pitched motor mouth, rambling about her life story, how Ponyville was a great place to live in (but other places in Equestria were fun, too), and that pink was undeniably her favorite color bar none.

The reporters hadn’t prepared for that one. A journalist had fainted during the verbal flood.

Despite that, what made her memorable to Sam was how, after all of that, she’d said that she’d been willing to go everywhere on Earth if she had to, to help humanity happily.

Happily during this time of change.

Change.

A change that, ironically, would never be changed once he made his choice at whatever bureau he’d end up in. And so, the words from his parents rang….

...we want to be sure that you’re sure. We don’t want you to regret it for the rest of your—

Honk!

Sam whirled his head away from the table and to the parked black car on the road, a concerned Arthur looking at him through the window.

This not-so-focused volunteer quickly got up and went inside the car with a door slam!

Back to that fresh car smell and back in the seat as the car revved up and shot off, the outside noise all but muted.

As the urban scenery around them slowly changed as usual, Arthur quipped, “OK, what’s in your head right now?” He pointed two fingers outside. “Must be important, but I hope you won’t crash into a policeman like that.”

Mentioning policemen threw Sam off his slowly regaining focus, but he tried to keep the conversation normal. He used a couple seconds to organize and reorganize his wandering thoughts, rounding up those trains of thought. “A lot of things. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately.”

“Interesting,” Arthur said, eyes still on the road, looking left to see an incoming truck on the other side. “What things?”

Sam wanted to let his mind rest and recover from meditation on the future. The constant appearance of Equestrian creatures on (or above) the sidewalks made that task quite hard, and let’s add the ponies peoplewatching behind the windows, the griffon and pegasus guards on the roofs, the Crystal ponies being redundant by wearing crystal necklaces and bracelets—also, there was a kirin selling self-roasted peanuts and garnering a ridiculously long line of customers….

“Thinking about my fate,” Sam said, settling on that response.

Arthur let out a snicker, shaking his hand in the air and making Sam a bit unnerved by his one-handed driving. “It all comes back to that, huh? I don’t blame you.” Picked up his shades, inspected them as if he were deciding to wear them or not. “I already told you about my choice, no? Abyssinian, right?”

Sam nodded, remembering the first ride he had with Arthur. And the protest he didn’t encounter, too.

“So, any good choices?” the driver asked, having put on his shades. “I heard the pegasus borough here is progressing well.”

Sam did a double take. “They have a pegasus neighborhood here? I didn’t see that in the travel brochure.”

“It’s getting there,” Arthur said. “It’ll be official, but not yet. Haven’t even decided the name, though everyone’s calling it the North Bay.”

“...but you don’t have a North Bay, right?” Sam asked dumbly, only recognizing how dumb he sounded seconds too late.

“‘Course we don’t,” Arthur said, helping himself to more laughter after. “It’s floating above Long Beach which is in South Bay. That’s the joke.”

Sam let his eyes drift off to the outside speeding by him. Once he got his fill of trees and grass across the street—those plants tended by both human and Earth pony gardeners—“Oh.”

Arthur flashed a smile for the rear view mirror. “My job to facilitate tourist humor, sir! Still, it is called the North Bay and it’s just over there,” pointing a thumb backwards.

“But, how come I don’t see it?” Sam asked, turning his head back and seeing only the road behind him with some more cars and a few vans. He saw no buildings made of fluffy white clouds.

“Trained unicorns covering up the neighborhood for now,” he replied, putting his right hand back on the steering wheel. “They’re scared about ruining the skyline. It’s unfinished, that’s why.” Nodded at Sam through the rear view mirror. “
“Wouldn’t want floating scaffolds in the sky to fall on your head, right?”

That piqued Sam’s curiosity about cloud architecture: How did pegasi live in cloud houses other than simply saying “It’s magic”?

Arthur then turned left to West Arbor Vitae Street. Sam saw square housing complexes on his right with their own parking spaces, and he saw a gravel lot and some grass-sided walkways on his left. He saw even more Equestrians walking around, and he didn’t know which ones had a human history before.

He decided to think about it later. Sam turned on his phone and checked what’d be good places to dig in the Los Angelan nightlife. It was his last day as a conversion bureau volunteer.

It was also Friday. Friday nights were always fun.

---

Sam was dropped off at the bureau, and Arthur gave him almost no time to say his thanks and goodbyes. This driver preferred to drive away really quickly but not quickly enough to break the speed limit.

With that, Sam turned around to face the bureau, renewed by a new day, an—

Heard noises from the rooftop.

Sam took a couple steps back, making sure he didn’t get to the road. He couldn’t see much, but he saw a couple heads peeking out and moving around: Pony heads, to be specific—holding hammers, saws, screwdrivers, and the like with their hooves and their mouths. Hard hats decorated their heads, covering up parts of their manes.

All of these ponies were also shiny. Very shiny. So shiny, in fact, sunlight was reflected on them and hit Sam in the eye, though he closed that eye fast enough.

After that temporary delay, this poor volunteer staggered his way inside, holding a hand over both of his eyes. “Must be Hitch and Hop. Ow.”

When he entered the establishment, he didn’t experience any conditioned air; inefficient fans at the corners kept it as cool as possible. But, he saw the same stuff: the same coffee bar and the same baristas, the same receptionists at the same hour, the same furniture and the same walls and the same paintings and movie posters...at least they were now occupied by different people an—

There’s Key Note lounging with a cup of coffee, sitting close to the bar as his coffee’s scent wafted around, catching noses with its strong and dark roast.

“Ah!” he blurted out as he caught sight of Sam. He raised a hoof, ready to shake a hand.“What’s up with you?”

Sam let his hand rest on his head as he walked over. He first waved at the other staff there who all said something akin to “Welcome back, Sam!”, cheers and all. Then, he sat down right beside the Earth pony.

Key Note puckered his lips and half-closed his eyes, looking like a charismatic detective. “I know the look on your face, Sam.”

He placed his hoof on the human’s nose, squishing it a bit. Sam had no idea where this was going, although everyone else probably had...and probably didn’t care as they went on with their business, Dark Roast herself brewing coffee that fit her namesake.

Note pulled his head away from Sam. Kept the hoof on the nose.“...you’re thinking about what you’ll become.”

Sam blinked. Then, he gently and slowly pulled Note’s foreleg away, silently irked by the possible germs he must’ve inhaled from it. “How’d you know?”

Key Note breathed a smug chuckle, shaking his hoof about. “Facial cues. You have a question mark in your eyes, that’s why.”

“...I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Sam said right away, turning his focus to other things like the hallway at the back. Actually, he hadn’t seen Crowhop and it’s been several minutes already.

Key Note laid back on his comfy, cushiony chair. Giving Sam an analyzing look, he continued: “Those question marks should be expected. You’re saying goodbye to your human existence, and you’re opening yourself up to a new body entirely. Not exactly easy to swallow, but that’s the choice we all have to make before 2026.”

Sam hid his shivering fear with a smile. 2026 seemed so far away yet so close. They’d called it Time Zero or T-Zero: that day when Earth would be fully transformed, fully consumed by the Veil. Conservative estimates landed a more precise prediction of December that year, and it’s likely that it’d all end in the Otozondjupa Region in Namibia. He’d seen news of people already planning out “Farewell to Earth” parties in that Southern African country….

“So, what do you think I should get?” Sam asked, gesturing towards his pony listener busy sipping his coffee.

Note turned his hoof around, hiding a slightly condescending laugh behind his smile. “I chose pony, so I’d say you should choose pony. But, heh-heh,” glanced aside, “don’t trust me on that one! I’m too biased because I love being a pony!” and spread his forehooves.

Sam smiled, noting his unbridled enthusiasm over his new life. “Glad to know you’re taking this well.”

But before Note could answer with more pony life harangues, the front doors opened, ushering in an orange changeling floating above the floor with his buzzing wings. With his panicky head turning here and there, “Uh, has anyone seen my wife? Her name’s Laura Crowley!”

“Hold on!” Sam shouted, raising his hand as he stood up...then lowered his head, whispering to Note, “We’ll talk later, I promise. OK?”

Key Note winked at him. “Alright! No pressure!”

Relieved that he was done with that super-eager pony, Sam went over to Rogie the Changeling Husband, ID on full display. He scrutinized the visitor and noticed that he looked goofy: Aside from the wristwatch on his foreleg, he had two big front teeth which Sam wasn’t sure if they were real or fake. The propeller beancap and the spinning bowtie only made the changeling even goofier, enough to make everyone look at him for a good ten seconds or so out of disbelief.

“Wow,” Sam quipped, putting a hip to his shoulders at this unusual person. “You’re all out today, aren’t you?”

“What, this?” Rogie said, pointing at his silly-looking hat. “It’s my stand-up routine. It’s also my normal routine.” He stretched his ear out of boredom. “If I’m gonna be a rainbow horsebug, I might as well roll with it and pull out all the stops!” Then, his face returned to seriousness. “Where’s my Crowie?”

Sam did his best to not laugh at that sappy nickname. It oozed of innocent romance and endless dreams, but he would’ve made his brain hurt if he mulled over it more. So, he merely said, “Oh, I can lead you there. I know where she lives here.”

“Finally!” and Rogie nodded, tipping his colorful hat to a helpful Sam. “It’s her last day here, and it’s really my fault for letting her down. It’s like not being there for your kid on graduation day—” slapped himself on the head, almost hurting his hoof with his horn. “I’m getting way ahead of myself! Thinking about grads when we don’t even have kids! Or larvae!”

“...OK,” Sam said, shrugging and trying to keep up a smile for him while not thinking about how a changeling couple would treat their babies. He’d seen pictures of chanegling larvae: crawling vibrant caterpillars wrapped in some natural white chitin cloth of sorts. A cute but disgusting gallery.

“Let’s go?” Sam asked, directing a hand towards the back hallway.

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Rogie, wings flipping and flapping in anxious excitement. “She must be so mad at me!...”

Thus, Sam accompanied this nervous changeling on the way to Laura’s room. He hoped that there’d be no fighting, no arguments, and no threats of divorce. Imagining such a kooky changeling out in the cold, desperate to share love with someone after being kicked out...it wasn’t fun.

---

It was a tearful reunion in front of Laura room-wide abode. Hugs and kisses were in full force today for the honeymoon couple, enjoying the perks of married life and putting aside the woes to come.

That was all familiar to Sam. What he wasn’t familiar with was how a honeymoon changeling couple enjoyed such a married life. Did they go out on dates and enjoy movies together? Was labeling items his and hers a tradition? Were there bachelor parties after the wedding, to go out on a limb? Or, maybe it wasn’t all that different: these changelings and all the other Equestrian species were strangely very human-like. Despite being universes apart, pony weddings were eerily similar to human weddings—the white gowns and the black suits, the flower throwing and the marriage vows, the bachelor parties….

Laura thanked Sam for making her time in the bureau quite good and comfy, and Rogie thanked him for being “such a wonderful staffster! What about I get you some whiskey at the new comedy club up at Santa Monica? I’m part of the opening act! Come on, Sammy! Whiskey’s on me!”

Sam politely declined the offer, though he kept it in mind. Tomorrow would be the start of his time here as a true tourist, one who’d go around and enjoy the sights at his own pace. He would be unencumbered by an internship; all of that’d be in the past by then, to be cherished as a memory.

Next thing on the schedule was to oversee Lacque’s final minutes as a human being. This volunteer waited at the lobby, letting his eyes drink in the paintings of city landscapes on the wall. Before, they were outstanding hand- and hoof-crafted masterpieces. Now, they seemed quite common, for there was no life in those paintings—only the buildings.

That’s when Lacque stepped in, announcing his presence by overpushing the door and almost tripping over. A yak trotted over to help, but Lacque refused...and the trip didn’t bother him. On the contrary, the great big smile on his face screamed, “Ready or not, world! Here I come!”

It might’ve not sounded awesome as a future breezie, but it worked. At least he was looking forward to it. Maybe too much.

As Sam and Lacque walked the halls and then entered the anteroom, they talked a long yarn about breezie prospects, like what his potential jobs would be. Aside from the usual gardening angle, Sam suggested being a painter. “You’ll do well with the small brushes and the tiny details!”

“And be a mini-da Vinci?” Lacque asked. He snapped a pointed finger at Sam. “I like where this is going! But…” dropped himself to a waiting chair, resting before the last door he’d cross as a human. Stretched his arms, cracked his knuckles, and rested his head on his hands. “I’m sticking to what I know.”

Sam’s eyebrow quirked a bit, irked by Lacque’s unassuming zeal over being a fragile and weak breezie. “Aren’t you new to gardening?”

Lacque wagged a playful finger at him. “That won’t stop me.”

A couple more minutes of idle talk later, a pony popped up from the creaking door, wearing a pair of glasses. “Mr. Ramon Lacque? It’s your time to shine.”

Without saying a word, Lacque stood up and brushed his sleeves although they’d prove useless when he couldn’t fit them post-procedure. Then, he shook Sam’s hand with a firm grip. “Nice meeting you, sir, since yesterday!”

“Yeah, nice meeting you, too.” Sam wished Lacque didn’t see past the kind facade. He didn’t want his mental exhaustion to upset this man’s big day.

Greetings were made between Lacque and the pony supervisor, and the door was closed. Sam knew this moment well enough now, the moment when one’s humanity is left at the welcome rug, never to be seen again—at least on the outside.

He had the room to himself. His responsibility now was to take care of whoever came in until break time. A look at his watch nabbed him the time of around nine-thirty. One more hour to go, then.

That’s when the entrance door opened.

He turned around to see a long line of people piling into the anteroom in droves. A few other human facilitators like him immediately came in, trying to keep the line in check with orders and hand gestures as the line slowly trickled into the seats, but soon, the orderly quiet gave way to rising chatter.

For Sam, this meant adjusting his ID, flattening his shirt, and saying, “Alrighty, then.”

---

Ten-thirty in the morning, and it was break time. It only lasted a simple fifteen minutes, but that was enough to get Sam’s mind up and running again after a tiring and surprising hour of handling last-minute questions and flared-up arguments. His face retained a bit of that pink hue from intervening in a heated discussion between a would-be unicorn and a would-be Ornithian. Now, it’s a relief to be away from that, to be back with himself and his own stuff.

Sam was sitting by the coffee bar, arm rested on the counter as he allowed that overreaching coffee smell to permeate him. He chewed on another grilled cheese sandwich, watching non-humans operate coffee machines and grounding coffee beans. In particular, here was Dark Roast making a café latte, pouring the milk so carefully with her hooves. When she served it to the caffeine-deprived griffon beside him, Sam saw that she’d made a little leaf design with the milk, now floating on the surface of the coffee.

...and he realized he hadn’t see Canter Crowhop yet.

A bite and a gulp later, he asked Dark Roast, “Do you know where Crowhop is?”

The barista replied with a shake of the head. “She’s probably helping out with the repairponies. They do that sometimes, needing the help of their client. “

That drove Sam to stand up, unfinished sandwich in hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” came Roast’s curt reply.

So began Sam’s short adventure through the bureau in search of this mysteriously missing Crowhop. Instead of fighting monsters with a sword, however, he calmed down and had to be nice to an Abyssinian who meticulously picked up the sandwich crumbs from the floor and scolded Sam for being so inconsiderate. The bipedal cat stomped off in a pent up fury, licking his paw.

That little debacle over, Sam continued his search. He checked her office: no luck. He checked the still full anteroom with its packed line and its packed room: no luck. He checked the New Equestrian Residences and knocked on every door—even got a nice greeting from Laura, but still no luck. Then, he went a dozen more turns to the potion storage ro—

“Crowhop?”

And found the unicorn levitating a couple unicorn-labeled vials of potion in her green glow. Her eyes dilated only to grow back to normal at recognizing this intruder. “Oh! H-Hi, Sam! You scared me for a moment there!”

“Well, you got me worried,” Sam said, then scratched his head’s back. “What are you doing up here?”

Crowhop gulped, defusing the tension with a cute smile. “ Just randomly inspecting the potions. We’ve heard reports of thefts in the smaller European bureaus, so I do this for good measure.”

Sam then turned his gaze upwards t—

“And the camera’s busted,” she said, pointing at the security camera resting at the ceiling’s corner. “I really have to do this,” as her eye collided with another potion, iris darting here and there to examine the slushy magic liquid.

Sam wasn’t wholly convinced at first, but then, he rationalized, this was Canter Crowhop. The fun, lovable, excitable, and never-to-run-out-of-energy-for-the-rest-of-time Canter Crowhop. Pretty much a sugar-addicted pink unicorn tasked to do a serious and significant job in handling a conversion bureau. Sam kept thinking that this was her coping mechanism.

“I’ll just see the air con’s progress on the roof,” Sam said, pointing a thumb up. “That OK?”

“Yeah, sure!” she exclaimed, sitting down on the floor and floating another vial to her eyes. “I don’t think they’ll mind. Gotta wear some sunglasses, though! Once it’s noon with those Crystal ponies, things can get...complicated,” and chuckled that cute chuckle.

Sam scrunched up his chin and his cheeks in an I’m OK, you’re OK expresion. “If that’s so...enjoy!”

They waved at each other, and Sam went back to the halls, headed his way to a stairwell access he thought he knew but wasn’t really sure. If all else failed, he’d just ask the staff for directions.

Yet that green glow….

Comments

[Alex Warlorn]

Africans were the first humans, and now they'll be the last humans.

I figured the blackness was their pupa stage.

A change in species doesn't mean you have to give up your cultural identity and traditions.

Her eyes dilated only to grow back to normal at recognizing this intruder.

That's disturbing.

Is her magic naturally green?

What happened to that pony rumored to be part of PER?

I imagine that the more obscure the species in the show, the more scarce the potion is. The species of Equestria are used to kingdom and domains being divided among species lines, so humans not all belonging to the same domain is rather alien for them, so I imagine the various species might be haggling which potions get priority to be created and shipped and provided and where.

The cap on the number of converted dragons I imagine WAS to prevent a dragon population explosion, but also I imagine there are some species who fear what would happen if dragons lost their only weakness (their limited numbers and how insanely long it takes to replace them).

I imagine the Ornithian and Kirin are considered 'low priority' in how much of their potion is created. With the popularity of the Abyssinians taking EVERYONE off guard and requiring some retooling.

I imagine some New Fawns tried to join the PER, but were turned away for NOT BEING PONIES!

[Alex Warlorn]

2,739,726 a day. That's how many humans they'd need to convert a day if human population was 8 billion, and they had eight years to do it.

[Alex Warlorn]

9251148
INDEED! There's plenty of room for drama WITHOUT the ponies being an alien invasion!!!!!!!

[Ardashir]

9263838
The cap on the number of converted dragons I imagine WAS to prevent a dragon population explosion, but also I imagine there are some species who fear what would happen if dragons lost their only weakness (their limited numbers and how insanely long it takes to replace them).

Hmm, given a population of 8 billion humans, I wonder how low a percent the ponies and others were willing to permit become dragons? For that matter, how big was the Equestrian dragon population in the first place? Even topping it out at 1 or 2 percent gives me the idea that the New Whelps, with all their new ideas (I doubt most of them will enjoy living in a Bronze Age near-anarchy) will drastically change the original dragon society.

Much like how Griffonstone is due for some social upheaval in the future with the new griflets.