Desperate Hours
Paul Zagranski waited in the distinguished visitors lounge on the top floor of the United Nations headquarters building in New York. The wide picture window looked out over New York Bay, the waters sterling blue today, topped with whitecaps that caught the bright sun like the sails of a fleet of half-sunken ships. He watched the waves play for a few minutes, ignoring the impatient tapping on the table behind him, then exhaled and turned back to his notes.
“Sorry,” he said. “Let’s continue.”
“It’s fine,” the Secretary General of the United Nations said. He was an older gentleman, from one of those African countries that only ever seemed to be in the news when some disaster or war or whatever calamity of the week was occuring. “Take your time. We’re all a little stressed right now.”
That they were. Despite the freezing air conditioning, Paul’s shirt was already soaked through with sweat. He could only hope the expensive Armani suit would prove impervious to the stains in his underarms. He wondered for a moment if he’d worn enough deodorant, then wondered if their guests might not find the scent of the deodorant more offensive than sweat.
There were no wars today. If these negotiations went well, there might not be wars ever again. All of humanity’s problems might be solved in the next few hours. Or they might all be doomed to return to the eternal loneliness of their little solar system, light-years and lifetimes away from the next nearest star. It all depended on the outcome of these talks. And he would either be the world’s most celebrated diplomat and negotiator, or the failure who let seven billion people down.
So, no stress. He tugged at his tie and considered asking if they could crank the AC up another notch or two.
There was a knock on the open door, and a man in a dark suit stuck his head through. “Five minutes, Mister Secretary. The portal is open and the room is ready.”
“Thank you, Abrams.” The Secretary General said. He turned back to Paul and the open binder between them. “I don’t think I need to underline the stakes involved here, Zag. We’ve prepared in every way we know how. All we can do now is drive for the best bargain we can.”
Paul nodded. His finger traced its way down the table on the first page of his notes. “Just to be clear, I’m empowered to make the following offers on the spot. A complete transfer of the technology necessary to manufacture microprocessors. The theory, design, construction and application of laser devices. A complete sequencing of the ponies’ DNA and assistance in determining the genetic causes behind any illnesses that may be requested. An exchange program for mathematicians and scientists for their universities. And complete, unrestricted access to our information grid.” He exhaled. “Do you think it will be enough?”
The Secretary General licked his lips. “We can only hope. If the ponies balk… well, I shouldn’t say this, but feel free to make additional promises. Spaceships. Engineering projects. Anything they want except nuclear weapons, I’m allowing you to offer it to the ponies. They have us by the balls, Zag. You offer anything you have to, you understand?”
He nodded. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple onto his starched collar, leaving a dark gray spot in the silk. He moved his finger to the next page, where a much shorter table contained all of humanity’s requests for the ponies.
“Alright,” he said. He didn’t need to read – he had long since memorized the list. “It’s a good offer. I think… I think when they hear it, they’ll agree. And if they don’t… well, humanity will remember that we tried. We did our best.”
“We did.” The Secretary General looked away, out the same picture window that had drawn Paul’s attention earlier. “May our children forgive us if we fail. Just, when you get in there, remember the priorities.”
“I will.” Paul closed his eyes and read the list from memory. “Ear scritches, mane brushing and braiding, and nose boops.”
The Secretary General was silent in reply. Finally, Abrams knocked again, and Paul stood to go negotiate for the future of his people.
* * *
There were three ponies across the table. They’d already taken seats on the French cushions and had their notes spread out before them. In the center was Common Ground, the unicorn stallion Paul had met many times before during the initial contact. How quaint those days seemed, when humans and ponies were more worried about invasions and alien plagues than trade deals. But now, after years of growing contact and friendship, they were ready for this. The biggest deal ever signed in human or pony history. An agreement that would bind their people forever.
Except for one problem. The ponies didn’t seem too impressed by all the technology they’d seen. They were puzzled by the internet. Computers amused them in the same way an Etch-a-Sketch amused Paul’s daughter. The wonders of modern medicine and genetics were like witchcraft to them. Magic literally did everything they needed. So the ponies held all the cards. They had what humans wanted – no, needed – and in exchange all that Earth could offer was silly trinkets and slightly better musical instruments.
Paul nodded to Common. On his left was Oak Heart, a unicorn mare Paul recognized from previous discussions. She had a sharp mind and fluffy tufts atop her ears that begged for him to touch. To the right was Cinnamon Swirl, a pegasus stallion with a luscious, flowing cornsilk mane who specialized in weather systems. The ponies had added him to the team after discovering the humans had no weather control of their own. He was something of a celebrity, and plushies of him frequently appeared as props when local news stations wanted to highlight a weekend of good weather.
He pulled out his chair and sat. Beside him, his fellow negotiators – Terri Fukumoto, representing the Asian nations, and Ebba Larsson, representing the European Union – took their seats. “Common Ground, thank you for coming. I hope today’s negotiations will be fruitful.”
“As do we,” Common said. And here Paul noticed something – Common Ground’s coat, normally an inoffensive khaki color, was darker than normal. It sparkled with sweat, despite the freezing air. There was a tremble in his voice, and his hoof shook as he opened the binder before him. “If you don’t mind, let’s skip the formalities and get started.”
Crap. Crap. It was already going off the rails. Negotiators only skipped the formalities if they wanted to drive a hard bargain. If they didn’t care about being polite. For the first time in twelve years, Paul wished he had a cigarette. But he managed to keep the quaver out of his voice as he spoke. “Of course, friend. I am empowered by the Secretary General of the United Nations to make what we believe is a generous offer—”
“Please, if we may,” Common interrupted, and Paul’s mouth snapped shut. Beside him, Terri and Ebba clutched their pens tight. He’d never known ponies to interrupt in formal settings. “I think we can save time. Our terms are simple: ear scritches, mane brushing and braiding, in exchange for ten-thousand ounces of gold per year—"
Paul nodded, furiously scribbling down the ponies' demands. That much gold would be expensive, but not unduly so. India would complain about the price of gold going up, but they would survive. With ponies' ears to scritch they could finally stop worrying about Pakistan.
Common continued. "—A complete exchange of all accumulated knowledge not associated with weapons—"
"Already planned for," Terri whispered in his ears.
"—A second exchange of professors in any feasible sector of education—"
Another exchange? That was good. The ponies weren't demanding a unilateral transfer of technology, at least. Magic might not be much use on Earth, but it was of intense interest to scientists. Perhaps the ponies' terms wouldn't be too onerous. But still Common was speaking.
"—And finally, one million pre-enchanted scrolls with spells to be determined at a later date.”
Paul's pen trailed to a halt. He frowned.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “How are we supposed to offer pre-enchanted scrolls? Only your world has those.”
“Yes,” Common Ground said. He blinked and tilted his head. “That is our offer. The scrolls, the gold, the knowledge, in exchange for ear scritches and mane brushing. And maybe braiding, if you feel up to it.”
“Of course.” He made a few more notes, then set his pen down and stared at his paper, attempting to parse what he'd just heard. “I apologize, my hearing isn’t what it used to be. If you would give me a moment to discuss this offer with my team?”
Common Ground swallowed. He looked between the humans, then nodded. “O-of course. Take your time.”
They stood from their chairs and walked to the far wall. Paul managed to keep his steps even. The other human negotiators weren’t so cool. Terri was vibrating in his shoes.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” he whispered. “It’s happening! Mister Zagranski, they want the scritches! They want them and they’re willing to pay—”
“Shut up shut up they can hear you,” Paul muttered. For a moment, the only sound was their labored breathing. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” He pulled out his binder and pen, and in a few quick moments sketched out the future of humanity’s relationship with Equestria.
If they’ll bite. He closed the binder, turned, and walked back to the table. “Sorry about that. Just had to clarify some minor points.”
Common Ground nodded. “I realize we’re asking a lot, Mister Zagranski. I shouldn’t say this, it’s terrible for negotiations… but we need you to accept. We need ear scritches so badly. We have hooves! We can’t do it for ourselves, dammit! We have hooves!” He banged his hooves on the table to demonstrate, his voice rising to a shout at the end. His pony partners had to drag him back to his cushion, where he hunched over, his entire body shaking. They patted him on the back and whispered quiet, comforting things into his deliciously scritchable ears.
“Common Ground, we understand your plight, and I believe you will find humanity’s offer acceptable,” Paul said. “We will provide all the ear scritches, mane brushing and braiding that ponykind desires, for all of eternity. And in exchange, we ask only one thing.”
Common Ground looked up. His hooves fell away from his face, revealing tear-stained tracks along his cheeks. “Yes? Yes! Name it! The gold? The magic? Anything, Paul! Anything.”
“Nose boops.”
The room fell silent. The ponies stared across the table, frozen. They might all have been an artist’s still life. The hammer and thrum of blood in Paul’s ears drowned out even the roaring air conditioner.
Common Ground spoke first. “Mister Zag… Paul. I… You must understand, these things… our noses are very sensitive. Nose boops are humiliating! They make us scrunch up our muzzle!”
“And squeak!” Cinnamon interjected, blushing.
“Yes,” Common said. “Surely, surely there’s something else we can offer. Time travel spells? Anti-aging magics? I happen to know the Canterlot University is developing special magics allowing faster-than-light communication—”
Paul slammed his palm on the table. The sound was like a shotgun blast, and it silenced the ponies like they had broken legs. “Nose boops, or no deal.”
Silence again. But Paul already knew their answer. He could see it in their soft, soft ears, how they wilted. In their posture, how it sank. Finally, Common Ground nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “Though I scarcely know how I will explain it to our princesses. But you shall have your nose boops.”
Yes. Yes. Paul let his eyes close for a moment, and let the warmth of victory wash over him. Beside him, Ebba and Terri let out the breaths they’d been holding. They’d done it. He’d done it. On behalf of all humanity, he’d done it. He stood and walked around the table, knelt, and held out his hand toward Common Ground.
Common Ground stared at it, then slowly lifted his hoof. He tapped it against Paul’s knuckles, and with that simple gesture, the deal was done.
Then, to show their was no hard feelings, Paul reached out further and scratched behind Common’s ear. The pony moaned, his eyes drifting shut, and he rubbed his head against Paul’s fingers. Behind him, Cinnamon Swirl and Oak Heart watched, their eyes filled with envy.
Enough of that. Paul pulled his hand away, and before Common could object, poked him in the snout with his finger. “Boop.”
Common scrunched his muzzle. He went cross-eyed, trying to stare at the tip of his nose. He looked like he wanted to bite. Then he sighed and shrugged.
“See, was that so bad?” Paul asked.
“Yes.” Common grumped. After a moment he pushed his head against Paul’s hand again, and the scritching continued. Behind him, Terri and Ebba closed in on the two remaining ponies, and began scritching their ears as well.
Some say the scritching never stopped.
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We have have hooves!
Mistake in there. Otherwise cute.
This was great. There's only one thing that comes to mind as being able to improve it. I think you should take out the "They are willing to offer all their technology, their weapons, their science, every book ever written, every song ever sung and every movie ever screened, all of it in order to have what only the ponies can give." from the description, so that the line after "We did.” The Secretary General looked away, out the same picture window that had drawn Paul’s attention earlier. “May our children forgive us if we fail. Just, when you get in there, remember the priorities.” hits with even more force.
tis pretty cute in my opinion.
Deal's totally worth it
Hnnnnng
Fantastic. Written as if this was the most serious thing. Seriously heartwarming💜
Humanity did not have to use their secret ace in the hole of baked oat molasses horsey treats
9822530
We're not monsters.
9822547
A Mennonite 4H club forms a cartel to manufacture illegal baked oat molasses treats in Equestria in a spin-off story titled Baking Bad ?
I'm just imagining a pony in a suit and tie with his eyes rolling into the back of his head while a human also wearing a suit and tie is kneeling and scratching the back of his ear. And it is adorable in my head.
No comment..... just laughing my ass of!
I can just see the crisis centers springing up on both side of the portal as boops, scritches, mane brushing and braiding force oxytocin to overdose levels. But I know we can live with that. Worth it!
"When the deal was reached, and magic from Equestria began flowing into Earth, one unforeseen side-effect was granting all of Earth's cats and dogs sentience. When that happened, disaster struck. All of Earth's pets rose up in rebellion, demanding ear scritches be for them and them alone. After many months of conflict, an agreement was reached: Humans would provide the ear scritches to pony and pets alike, but belly rubs would be for the pets only."
... this is fucking amazing and I can't stop giggling.
This is the good stuff...
Ohmigosh I'm just melting from how adorable this is! How dare nature not give ponies a way to scritch their ears! Of course we'll help!!! I needed this today, moar please! We need more diabetes-inducing fluff on here. Bless you for making this!
9822647
Belly rubs went to dogs while tail base scritches went to cats.
~Skeeter The Lurker
For the love of all things holy, please tell me that this is canonically set in the universe of Big Princess Week.
9823072
You know, you're the second person to mention that story in reference to this one? I didn't even think about it while writing.
9823072
For the love of everything holy, DO IT!!!
This is the top featured story on Fimfiction.net right now. Just wanted to let you know. Anyone who comes here, having never seen our fandom before, will see this as their first impression of us.
Seems accurate.
Mr Banks? The Nanny has arrived.
Wouldnt the Griffins and Hippogriffs demand Tailscritches, Diamond Dogs belly rubs, and the Dragons, battery powered wire brush paint strippers and support gear?
I simply must comment on the simple but very funny pic for your cover.
I adore the death glare Tempest is giving to the figure that dares to 'boop' her, with her signature magic to add to the intimidation facture for an otherwise silly action. I can already seeing this poor guy flying faster than Team Rocket while giving a good old Goofy Yell.
9823109
No regrets.
As usual, Babylon 5 has something to offer for this.
“Their homeworld is a place called Earth, located in a fairly uninteresting part of the galaxy. We had never bothered much with that area before. It had little military or strategic value. But as a culture grows decadent, it becomes intrigued by art, by trinkets, by eccentricity. And the Humans had art and trinkets and eccentricity to spare.”
— Londo Mollari, Emperor of the Centauri Republic
The novelization of In the Beginning has Londo additionally note that the Earth government was located in a place called Geneva, Switzerland, which is known for four things: its neutrality, its clocks, its cheese, and its chocolate. He doesn’t know which of the four is the reason Humans chose to make it their capital, but he suspects it’s the cheese.
Truly the best of timelines, I weep for not living in it.
Sequel?
It's a great story, but there's this:
It sounds like the Humans are wanting ear scritches from the ponies. It's the same in the long description as well.
Nothing defines humanity more than this. it's a 30/30/30 split on killing/banging/cuddling any aliens we'll find
What made you write this story? I love it
9823355
I couldn't think of a better way to phrase it.
Well..... thanks to this, I don't think I'll be able to eat any sweets for at least a week without going into a diabetic coma..... no regrets!
Gotta ask, was "Common Ground" a reference to Destinies or just coincidence?
9823634
I'm not familiar with Destinies, so I'll have to say it wasn't. It just seemed like a good name for a pony negotiator.
9823416
... What's the last ten percent?
Hah, jokes on you, i have a doggo to ear scritch!
9823503
Never before have I seen such a tense negotiation... I was afraid they would say no, so very afraid.
What would the poor african children done if the deal fell through!? How could they live without the nose boops!?!
I dont know what made me read this but im glad i did.
9823931
I have three doggos waiting for me at home. Thanksgiving can’t come soon enough.
Why can we not live in this timeline?
XD that fanart.
i swear to god, they do make some poses just for the memes!!!
It is frivolous, saccharine, and it is downright perfect for it. My sole regret is that I have but one thumbs up to give.
Meh, why not.
I usually read through other kind of stories, but I decided to give it a try since the theme called my attention, and my friend. What a good story, Its really funny and made me giggle couple of times.
And by the way, the last phrase is one of the best! 
*very long sigh* .......... i think its time to leave the planet.
woooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh
The Greatest Trade Deal of all god damn time. Forwards, Backwards and Sideways!
Is there a second level of favorite I can give this?
I feel the need to put it above even that.
So sweet it gave me cavities! I need to go test my blood sugar now.
The most important trade deal since the purchasing of the rights to MLP:FiM from Hasbro by the fandom.
hnnng....so adorable!
Whoops double post
I wonder who was the first pony to discover Humans could give ear scritches?
My money's on Pinkie.