Bronygeddon

by pjabrony

Chapter 2

“And tonight we take a deeper look concerning the outbreak of so-called ‘enhanced’ people, folks from all over the country who, for no apparent reason, have been developing new abilities. Eric Parker has more.”

Parker walked down a sidewalk toward the camera with people crossing the street behind him. “Thank you, Paula. Throughout the country, and indeed all over the world, reports have been coming in of people doing things once thought impossible. They speak of ‘birdmen,’ people with telekinetic powers, extraordinary strength, and more. Is it happening? What are the causes? And how,” he stopped walking and paused for effect, “will society react?”

The picture switched to sepia-toned stock footage of evolutionary charts, and Parker’s voice sounded out with increased clarity. “What some are calling an unexpected and radical series of mutations has begun to intrigue scientists and observers, who tout the changes as further support of their biological theories.”

A young man appeared, sitting in a brightly lit room. There was lots of glassware in cabinets and on desks behind him, some containing fluids. “This is exactly the sort of thing that advocates of the punctuated equilibrium view have been predicting all along. If anything, human evolution is overdue, and we’re not surprised to see it playing catch-up.”

The camera lingered on the man for a moment, letting the narration cross-fade into the next shot. “But others say that we need to look outside the realm of biology to find our answers.”

A gray-haired, portly woman was shown standing outside an office building. “Of course, you’re always going to have those who believe they can trace everything to DNA. But we’ve seen plenty of evidence of paranormal phenomena throughout history, and it’s all been ignored. The only question now is whether, with it staring them in the face, are we still going to stick our heads in the sand and say that this is genetic?”

“There are still others,” the reporter said, “who contend that what we’re dealing with might be no more than an elaborate hoax.”

The report segued to a bearded man in a plaid shirt and tie, who was sitting in an office wallpapered with bookshelves. “Every claim we’ve every investigated concerning supernatural abilities has been able to be explained away as either a natural occurrence or the work of hucksters. From the crop circles to the alien autopsy, we know how easily people are fooled.”

Without any transition, there was a cut to a virtually identical office, only the person being interviewed sat camera left instead of right. “I for one don’t believe in any of it. We all know how easy it is to fake video. I mean, we’re talking about re-writing overnight the laws of physics, biology, aerodynamics, and so on. What’s easier to believe: that we’ve been dead wrong about everything we understand about the world, or that a few pranksters have pulled the wool over our eyes? Come back in a few weeks, we’ll probably find out that this has been some sort of advertising stunt.”

Yet another face appeared on screen, a young girl with glasses in a university classroom. “Suppose it is happening. What does that mean for the average person? The fact is that the modern world doesn’t work by events, only by trends. Natural disasters depress the economy temporarily, but everything regresses to the mean in short order. And that’s exactly what's going to happen here, just in the opposite direction. A minor boost to production before we re-integrate.” As she finished, her face was covered up by a series of unlabeled line graphs that might have referred to what she was saying.

“Clearly, more hard facts are needed,” the reporter said. “When we return, a look at the early returns of researchers who have attempted to study the phenomenon.”

There was two minutes of ads, then a studio shot of Parker looking serious for the camera. “More now on the ‘enhanced people.’ I had a chance to speak with a doctor who has treated some of the people afflicted by the condition.”

The report faded to a dark room with nothing in the background, as if the only things in existence were the two chairs. In the one sat a balding man with a round head. On the close-ups, it was clear that the network’s make-up artist had not been successful in covering up the ravages of acne.

“It’s difficult to make any definitive statements at this time. Most of the patients who have these conditions don’t want to waste their time on experimentation. What we need is greater participation.”

“How do you get that?”

“Well, it’s a matter of arranging wider and deeper studies. I had one patient come in to see me who bore no outward signs of change, and who couldn’t do anything a normal person couldn’t, but whose skin was so tough that I couldn’t get a scalpel through it. For someone like that, I need to do a full workup over a week or two. But she didn’t return after the initial visit. It’s like that with almost all of them.”

“What are the attitudes you’re encountering, Doctor? Are they uncooperative?”

“They’re perfectly civil when you talk to them. They just don’t seem to recognize that anything could be wrong with them. More concerned with getting back to their own lives and being happy than contributing to science. And they all seem happy.”

“Indeed, happiness is one factor that runs through the enhanced people,” Parker said in voice-over as more charts appeared. “While, demographically speaking, they are mainly young and middle-class—the very segments of the population most likely to be affected by the economic downturn—they show more income and affluence than average, key indicators of happy life. This is the only group for whom health-care costs have started to come down. And even those who are unemployed or underemployed have shown surprising resistance to the malaise and despair that have otherwise gripped the nation.”

The report cut back to a studio with a blown-up newspaper on display, and Parker sitting on a stool next to it. “In our final segment tonight, we’ll go inside the communities where enhancement is most prevalent, and speak with a few of the enhanced people themselves.”

More commercials were shown, then another introductory segment essentially repeating what was said. Parker appeared next in front of the camera in a rural suburb.

“Here on the Eastern Seaboard, we find one of the greatest concentration of enhanced people. Almost every town in this area has someone who can do things that regular people can’t.”

The camera cut to a man outside a house. A paintbrush moved by itself across the outer wall, occasionally stopping to dip in a bucket.

“How has your life been affected by your enhancements?” asked Parker.

“Not as much as you might think,” the man said. “I’d still be out here painting the house, but now my arm isn’t as tired and I don’t have to worry about getting my clothes dirty.” From inside the house, a muffled television could be heard with some character asking for something to be made cooler.

In a shot of another town, Parker asked a young Hispanic girl with tanned wings, “Do you find it easier to get around now that you can fly?”

“A little. I always liked to walk around town, and flying’s a bit faster since you can cut corners. Oh, excuse me,” she said as her cell phone rang, the ringtone saying something about the day being perfect.

Then another shot of a young man carrying a heavy grocery bag balanced on one finger. “What have you got there?” the reporter asked.

“Oh, just some fruit. Cherries, mostly. For a while now, I just haven’t gone for much meat. I’m going to put these in taco shells and deep fry them.”

Parker broke away from the interview and faced the camera, as if pretending that the three vox pops were one segment. “All of the enhanced people I talked to were pleasant, though most said they were too busy to talk. Very few were willing to speculate on the causes of their enhancement.”

On a university campus, one of the students in a T-shirt bearing the college’s name spoke into the microphone. “I guess I’ve always been into magic in stories, games, and TV shows. Most of my friends who can do magic or fly now watch what I watch. I guess it’s just something we picked up.” As he exited, a shot of his backpack revealed stickers and pins saying, “Love and Tolerate,” “Support the New Lunar Republic,” and “Twilightlicious.”

The report went back to the studio. “While the enhanced people have thus far been peaceful and integrated well with the society that created them, it remains to be seen how those who don’t have these abilities will react on the larger scale. For now, this is a story with more questions than answers, but we will keep our fingers on the pulse as it develops. For NPS News, Eric Parker, good night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And we’re out.”

“You really think that’s a good use of our time, Parker?”

“Yeah, why not? Advances in human evolution, singularity—geeks and intellectuals love that stuff.”

Pamela Burns sighed. She brushed some dust off her unflattering pants suit and altered her seating to a position that she thought of as dominant. It was her fourteenth year producing segments for the TV news magazine. Those fourteen years also saw three husbands come and go, improving her bank account each time. Eric Parker was a little afraid of her.

“How long have you been out of Columbia?” she asked.

“Five years.”

“Another five and you’ll know to spike a story like this. If you’ve ever got a spike to do it with. You’re still green and you want to change the world. That’s good. But you haven’t learned how to do it.”

“Isn’t getting a story like this out there going to do it?” he asked.

“Getting it out to whom? The people watching us are the least important people. More important are the opinion-makers who get it digested for them. But the real focus of a story is the people in it. In this case, your so-called ‘enhanced’ people. You made them more important than they are.”

“But for heaven’s sake, Pam! Magic and flying aren’t important?”

“What does that do? Does it change the economy? Politics? Entertainment? In the twenty-first century, our lives are functions of the culture we live in. Nothing more. I don’t care if they can fly to the moon. Unless they can bring everyone else with them.”

Parker looked at his shoes. He had worked hard on the piece, trying to get all sides and maintain a healthy skepticism toward something that would probably be considered pseudoscience. He had hoped for better.

“Well, when we do the follow-up—“

“That won’t be for a couple of months, and you can bash it out in an afternoon. Here, dig up something on which Supreme Court Justices are too old.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So how many volunteers did we get?”

“Five. Three of which turned out to be fakes. A stage magician who tried to sell his sleight-of-hand as the genuine article, and two jokers who had hot-glued wings to their back.”

“And the other two?”

The two scientists sipped coffee in their break room. They worked out of a professional building that had most of its offices vacant, which they liked. Not having people around gave it more of a feeling of a lab. One of them had written, half-jokingly, that the problem with sociological experiments was that the subjects were far too social.

“Apparently they met in the waiting room, got to talking, and decided to ditch the study and go have a drink.”

The other scientist rolled his eyes. “Typical. Just explain this to me: I can advertise a study for the most obscure psychological conditions out there, stuff that most people can’t even pronounce, and get a phalanx of people in. But when we’ve got actual telekinesis, levitation, and everything else under the sun, and nobody wants to help explain it.”

“Maybe what we need is another method.”

“What other method? You run a study, you compile the data, you publish. That’s our job.”

“What if we got down in and lived with some of them? They’re all friendly enough, according to reports. Find a community, move in, and see what it is that they do different.”

“Forget it. You’re never going to get a grant for something like that.”

The first scientist gave up. On a personal level, he was fascinated by the phenomenon. He wished that he could bring that fascination into his work.

“But you might have something there after all,” the other scientist said. “See what they do different. Spread questionnaires, see what they eat, where they vacation, what TV shows they watch. We might find a trend, and if not. . . “

“If not?”

“There’s nothing grant committees love more than big stacks of statistics. Come on, let’s write the proposal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a small resort community in Florida, the town board passed a tax on flying. The only winged resident of the town was present at the meeting in which they discussed it, and she chuckled as everyone in the room avoided her eyes. She had enough money to pay the tax or move to the next town over, but she wasn’t sure yet which she would do.

At an intersection in Bangor, Maine, a cop sat in his patrol car and watched as a yellow hybrid pulled up to the light. The window rolled down, the driver stuck his hand out and waved, and the light turned green. As the car proceeded through, the cop started to put on his lights and sirens, then thought better of it. He wasn’t sure if anything illegal was done, or, if it was, how to write it up.

The state legislature of South Dakota organized two committees to deal with the issue of enhanced humans. One was put to the task of determining if the existing legal language was sufficient to adjudicate any disputes that involved enhancements. The other was charged with assuming that the first committee would fail, and come up with catch-all terms to cover any such eventuality.

In southern Oregon, just across the border from California, a former hippie commune opened its arms to all comers and made a public declaration of equal rights for enhanced persons. The declaration carried no legal weight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Washington, DC, Marine One touched down on the White House lawn bringing the president back from Camp David. President Walter “Wayne” Steuben had succumbed to the premature aging inherent to the job before he was even inaugurated. The economic stagnation that had begun under his predecessor hadn’t let up, and every day in the press the latest pet issue of some columnist was blamed on him. With only a few months till the mid-term elections, his advisers were already talking about the re-election over two years away, and wondering whether the “October surprise” concept had been gone long enough to be recycled.

When he reached his office, Steuben picked up the digest of all the daily papers prepared for him daily by some overpaid flunky with a pair of scissors. In among all the job loss news and recaps of the chat shows, an article was highlighted about a county in Michigan that had passed a law clarifying magical means of committing crimes as still illegal, without defining the term magic. This is all I need, he thought. Kooks in local government pretending it’s still the Middle Ages. Magic indeed. Then a connection closed in his brain. Didn’t he see something the other day in a report from the FAA about setting aside air space for people who flew without the aid of aircraft? Great, I’m presiding over the end times.

The article did not have the asterisk next to it that meant he should take a position on the issue. Nonetheless, he made a mental note to prepare his press secretary in case the question arose. Being a states’ rights advocate, even an inconsistent one, was a wonderful tool for avoiding a tough issue.

The intercom on his desk buzzed, and he looked at his schedule. He had a briefing session with the head of the Army. There were no conflicts in progress at the time, and the country would be hard-pressed to afford one anyway, but Steuben wanted to forestall any news stories about how few times he had met with his generals. The receptionist’s voice game through. “General Wallace to see you, sir.”

Justin Wallace could not be mistaken for anything but a Texan. From his hat, which he took off, to his voice, to the belly he had begun working on the moment he had left basic training, he epitomized the toughness of his home state. Among the other four-star generals, he was talked about for being the only one to enlist before going to West Point. He considered his job description to be simple: keep in perfect preparedness the greatest military force in history. And he thought that any failure in that job was tantamount to treason.

“Justin, take a seat,” said Steuben.

“Mr. President. I have a report for you on the bases in the Mid-west.”

“Well, dump it on my desk and I’ll get to it. Let me ask you something. You read anything at all about these enhanced people?”

“Something, I think.”

“Considered the military aspects at all?”

Wallace hadn’t, but thinking on his feet was one of his skills. “There might be an advantage to a soldier who had perfect control in the air for observation, and for staying a small target. As for the rest. . . Mr. President, it’s not the abilities that make a good soldier. It’s the ability to work as a team and accomplish a mission given, no matter what it is. Telekinesis or whatever could only be icing on the cake. I don’t know if there’s cake out there.”

“Interesting take. Think on it. Write a report. I’m sorry that I have to cut this short, so many things to do you know.”

“Of course, Sir.” Privately, Wallace remembered an anecdote about a cadet who had a theory that one of the instructors graded solely on word count. The cadet had handed in a fifty-page report detailing the challenges faced by Eisenhower in being confined to a wheelchair, and had received top marks. Wallace wondered if he might not do the same thing in this case. Magic in combat, he thought, what a joke. Now, if he had to fight against that. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the human resources department of a factory, the director looked over the latest stack of resumes submitted. One in particular drew his eye. Its author claimed to be able to lift and carry over five hundred pounds in any bulk, and maintain such activity for over twelve hours. A year prior, he would have thrown in directly into the trash for being an obvious lie. But now, after seeing similar feats performed, it was quite possibly true. If it wasn’t, that was testable and nothing more than a waste of time. If it was true, that he certainly needed to consider the hire. He decided to consult with his boss, the executive director.

“Suppose we had this guy on the floor,” the director said. “We might be able to do away with a forklift. That’s savings.”

“Yeah, but it raises a lot of questions,” the executive director said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how are the workers who can’t perform at that level going to interact with him? How is their morale going to be? What if there’s a fight on the floor? That’s more likely to turn into major injuries and lawsuits and worker’s compensation claims and all sorts of stuff that we don’t want to get into. What happens when this guy determines that he’s not getting the money he deserves for the extra production we’re getting out of him?

“Any time you make a change like this, there are always teething problems. And we don’t want to be the first to deal with them. When some other comparable business has an employee like this, and some rules are in place, then we’ll consider it. Until then, why don’t you go ahead and lose his resume?”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t he have an Equal Employment or affirmative action claim or something?”

“I don’t think so. In the first place, I’m sure we can find some other cause to prefer another applicant. Also, to the best of my knowledge, there are no regulations forbidding discrimination against someone for being too able. And even if he tried. . . “

“Yes?”

“This conversation never happened.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi, Mrs. Chang,” Olivia said as she entered the house. “Lisa’s up in her room?”

“Yes, studying or practicing or something. I think she’s expecting you, though, so go on up.”

When she opened Lisa’s door, she found her friend was indeed practicing. She had a pen, a bottle of vitamins, a notebook, and an alarm clock all suspended in the air surrounded by her signature purple glow, and was moving them around in a pattern like a juggler.

When Lisa heard the door open, she let all the objects drop onto the bed, then was a little relieved to see Olivia. “Hey, you!” she said.

“Hey, yourself. Going for multiple objects, huh? I haven’t tried that.”

“Yeah, trying to get precision. I hold two with each hand. I can cross them back and forth easily enough, but what I’m working on now is trying to get one hand to move two things in opposite directions.”

“And how’s it going?”

“I can do it, so long as one of the directions is down.”

Olivia put down her bag. “I’ve been going for speed myself.” She stuck out her hands and the notebook glowed red. It whipped around the room fast, then came to a dead stop right in front of her face. “And acceleration and braking too. Oh, and this was something else I found.”

She let the notebook drift onto the desk, then stood at the foot of Lisa’s bed. Reaching under the box spring, she stood up and held it up at an angle. “This is tiring if I just use my hands, but magical strength doesn’t sap physical strength.” She made her hands glow, and raised the angle of the mattresses even higher.

“I can hold it like this all day,” she said.

“Cool,” said Lisa. “I’ll have to try that. I haven’t tried to lift any heavy objects.”

“What have your parents said about your magic?”

“I’m sorry to say they’ve been completely stereotypical. They’re fine with it so long as I keep my grades up.”

“Pretty much mine too. My brother, on the other hand. . . “

Olivia’s brother John was five years younger than the two girls. He had frequently annoyed them when they hung out at Olivia’s house, and they found it awkward to hold private conversations around him.

“What did he say?” asked Lisa.

“I think he’s a little scared of me, like I’m going to magically beat him up or something. But he figured out that I learned it from watching My Little Pony, so he watched it too.”

“Oh? So he’s learned magic now?”

“No, that’s the thing. He hasn’t. Nor has he grown wings or developed any other powers. He’s still plain old John.”

“So it’s random, huh? That’s too bad. I mean, I’m glad that we can do magic, but I wish everyone could. Or fly or something.”

“Maybe it’s not quite so random. You see, he said he didn’t like the show.”

“Wow. Are you sure he’s really your brother?”

“Heh. Yes, I am. I was in the hospital when Mom had the little squirt.”

“Anyway, show me how you moved the notebook so fast. I think we should definitely teach each other when we can.”

The two girls continued to practice their magic and talk ponies. Olivia switched to the pen while Lisa was floating the notebook. Olivia was still moving her object much faster. Lisa had an idea.

“You said that you could use physical and magical manipulation separately. What if we went outside and you tried throwing the pen or something as hard as you could, then pushing it away with magic as well? Then we could really see how fast you could get it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Wait! I’ve got just the thing,” said Lisa. She dug out an old softball from her closet. “Not our usual game, but if magical basketball doesn’t pan out, maybe you can win the Cy Young.”

They went out to the yard. The driveway faced a long cross-street, so they had plenty of room. Olivia stood at one end, wound up and fired the ball. Right at the moment of release, she put out the red glow.

“Ye-ow!” she said, and Lisa ran to her. A spark had burst by her hand right as she let go.

“Are you OK?” asked Lisa.

“Yeah, but check out the ball!”

The girls looked. It was still visible, bouncing away down the road. Olivia reached out her hand and it headed back toward them.

“I’m sure that it jumped out of my hand and came out down the road. Lisa, I think we figured out teleportation!”

“Huh? Maybe so! Maybe teleportation is just really fast movement. That’s a breakthrough!”

They hugged each other. Practicing on their own was fun in itself, but they both wanted to compare notes as often as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At Bailey University, the law school announced a new addition to its student ethics guide. “Any student who, in preparing a report or sitting for an examination, uses any means of determining his or her response which circumvents the normal physical interactions of matter-energy; or any student who uses advanced an advanced biological nature to gain an unfair advantage in any class setting, shall warrant investigation into such activity. If the investigation determines that the student has not answered the assignment solely through the use of his or her own knowledge, the student shall receive discipline up to and including failure of the assignment, failure of the course, and expulsion from the University.”

When the first investigation under the new policy was launched, the college officials were in a quandary. Was simple telekinetic control of a pencil sufficient to warrant discipline? If that was the case, was there any way an enhanced human could take a test and not fail? By strict reading of the language, even eyesight that was better than 20/20 would seem to trigger an investigation. It wouldn’t matter if it had anything to do with being enhanced.

The disciplinary committee was divided on how to proceed. Some of the members seemed genuinely concerned with making sure that academic standards were maintained. Others were more forceful. After several hours of debate, one administrator threw down his pencil and said, “Hell, kick all the freaks out now! If they’re going to fly overhead and perform witchcraft, the least we can do is keep them from getting degrees!”

A break was called for after that remark, but when they reconvened, they took a vote, and the student was expelled. There were a few mutterings about resigning in protest, but when all was said and done, nothing further happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex found his schedule increasingly full based on his newfound powers. School and chores took up plenty of time on their own. Then between growing his oversized food, distributing it, and enjoying it, he barely had enough time to dedicate to the watching of My Little Pony, let alone talking about it.

So he was significantly behind the times in concluding that his green thumb derived from watching the show, and that he was the human equivalent of an Earth Pony. It took him even longer to believe it.

When he did spend some time on the Internet and heard about other bronies gaining power, his first thought was the spread the word around to people he knew. There was no reason that anyone else should be deprived.

The first person he approached was his mother. Before she had stood by him in the face of Mr. Perry, she would have been the last person he would talk about a girl’s cartoon to. Now, they had grown closer. But she managed to surprise him when she refused to watch it with him.

“If that’s what got you your amazing powers, I’m sure it’s a good thing,” she said. “And I wouldn’t mind if you sought out others like you to be friends with, or to spread them. But it’s not for me. I’m too set in my ways to want to change. It’s enough to know that the next generation is going to go further than I have. That’s all any good parent wants.”

Alex had given a lot of thought to that. On the one hand, he hoped that once everyone found out that My Little Pony had the key to solving hunger and making humans into supermen, they would all want to watch, and it would be wrong for his mother to be left out. But then he realized that there would be many other people like her, who would not want to become bronies.

And he saw that it was right to be that way. So long as no one actively interfered with them, bronies might remain a subculture. But his mother had said it was right for him to seek out his fellows. . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was around this time that terms like “pegasus person,” “earth human,” and “magical brony” began to supplant “enhanced people,” as it became clear that no one who had grown wings, learned magic, or developed innate abilities was not a fan of My Little Pony. It was hoped by some who had been affected that this would lead to a greater understanding between bronies and non-bronies.

A pegasus woman had been walking through a park at dusk when she entered a long tunnel underneath a footbridge. She saw the three young men at the other end, but didn’t think anything of it until one of them pointed at her and the other two stood blocking the exit. It was then that she noticed two more youths behind her, and that all of them wore leather jackets. The low tunnel prevented her from taking off. They closed a circle around her and began the assault. Shouting epithets like “bird-bitch” and yelling, ”Why don’t you stay home with your little cartoon show?” they shoved and kicked her to the ground. The gang leader motioned to the other boys and said, “Hold them out!” The boys turned her face-down and stretched her wings out. She heard the flick of a switchblade, then she screamed in agony. One of the boys, either out of mercy or to stop the screaming, kicked her in the head. She blacked out.

The hospital had patched her wounds, but it wasn’t until she found two magical bronies who had developed healing spells that she could fly again.

She went to the police and told them that she could positively identify all five of her attackers by face and clothing, but she could hear the reluctance in the detective’s voice. Arrests were made, and she waited for the trial. A week before it was scheduled, she received a letter from the district attorney saying that the case had been settled. It was the first offense for all five boys, and they had pled out in exchange for fines, probation, and community service.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Julie ran into the restaurant and saw her two friends waving to her. She ran to the table and threw her purse down. “I’m sorry I’m late, couldn’t find a parking spot!”

“I’m surprised you even bother with a car these days,” said Madison. She planned most of the lunches that Julie and Elizabeth came to.

“Don’t you start in too.”

“Hey, I think it’s cool to have wings! I’d like a pair for myself,” said Madison.

“Me too,” said Elizabeth. “How did you get them?”

Julie tried to find a waiter to order a drink. “You girls are going to laugh. Have you ever heard of My Little Pony?”

Her companions shook their heads.

“Well, obviously it’s about ponies, and some of them are pegasi. Pegasus ponies. Horses with wings.”

“You’re not a horse, though,” said Elizabeth, who had a talent for stating the obvious.

“No, I’m not. But from what I’ve read, a lot of people who are into the show are growing wings. Or learning magic.”

“Why magic?” asked Madison.

“There are unicorn ponies as well”

“And?”

“And they do magic with their horns, of course.”

“OK, that’s not exactly obvious. There are plenty of stories about unicorns that don’t have them doing magic,” said Madison.

“You’re right. I guess I’m so used to the ones from the show that I think of all unicorns as magical.”

“Still, I want to watch that! Especially if I get a pair of wings out of it,” said Elizabeth.

“I don’t think that everyone who watches gets them automatically,” said Julie, “but even if you don’t, it’s a great show anyway!”

She finally felt the presence of a waiter at her side.

“Oh, there you are. Could I please have a diet cola?”

“Actually, Miss,” the waiter said. “I came over to let you know that you’re bothering some of the other customers.”

“I’m sorry? Were we talking too loud?”

“It’s not that. It’s just that you’re. . . distracting people.”

“How am I doing that?”

“Please just go, Miss,” the waiter said. She couldn’t tell whether his expression was nervousness or personal affront.

Julie folded her wings to her body and started to pick up her purse. Madison put her hand on Julie’s arm. “We want to speak to the manager,” she said.

“I am the manager,” the waiter said, now becoming visibly more belligerent. “We do reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. And in this case, I’m going to have to insist on exercising that right.”

Madison opened her mouth to continue the argument, but Julie stopped her. “No, it’s all right. If he wants me to leave, I’ll leave,” she said, then turned to face the waiter. “I’ll just do so in my own way.”

She pulled her phone out of her purse, and texted the other two women to meet her a few blocks away in five minutes. Then she closed her phone and opened her wings as wide as she could, drawing the eyes of everyone in the restaurant. She flapped them and sent a gust of wind into the waiter’s face, causing him to flinch. She calmly flew to the door at ceiling height. Outside the restaurant there were tables set up for outdoor dining. She walked into the middle of them and repeated her wing spread to draw attention. She leaped in the air and pumped her wings, going for maximum height and speed. As she rose, she was just low enough to hear the surprised gasps of the customers sitting outdoors.

When she met Madison and Elizabeth a few minutes later, they were still indignant. “I can’t believe they made us go!” said Madison.

“Technically, they didn’t,” said Elizabeth. “They made Julie go. We just wouldn’t stay after they did.”

Julie was smiling and laughing. “Don’t worry about it. I half enjoyed it. I think I showed him a thing or two. Just one thing. Please don’t tell Luke. He’s the type who’ll want to come down and cause a scene or make a stand on principle.”

“It’s fine,” said Madison. “So tell us more about this My Little Pony.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A drunk man stepped out of the back door of a bar in Detroit, staggering into the alley. Ahead of him on the street, an attractive couple in evening clothes was walking home. The man was amusing his wife by holding up his hands and playing music on instruments that were nowhere to be found. The drunk just stared for a moment, then he ran up to them.

“What’s that you’re doing there? You’re one of them magical pony people, right? Lousy fargin’ people—yer’ what’s wrong with the country!” he said, his words becoming slurred. “Sittin’ home with yer cult shows instead of gettin’ out and fixin’ problems.”

The couple tried to walk past, but the man continued to accost them. Finally the woman had enough. “Why don’t you head right home, dear?” she said. “I’ll be along soon enough.”

“Are you sure?” the man asked.

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,” she said, and they both chuckled. The man gestured with his hands and disappeared.

Seeing a more visible use of magic set the drunk off even more. He attacked the woman, swinging his fists clumsily. The first few blows were weak and off-target, but even when he tried to punch her full in the face, she didn’t even budge.

“What’re you made of?!” he screamed.

“The stuff of the earth, in fact. I’m getting out of here. You’re annoying me.” She started running, and the drunk gave up the pursuit. Soon she was outpacing the cars on the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rate of attacks increased sharply, then tapered off as bronies learned to defend themselves and assailants found themselves frustrated. Earth people were naturally immune, and pegasus humans were instructed to stay out of places they could not take off from.

A magical brony was nearly the victim of one attack in El Paso, perpetrated by the same people who spent their time watching the Mexican border. He defended himself with a repulsion spell that wound up slamming one into a wall. The police arrested the brony over his protestations of self-defense and took him to jail. When he was told that he would have to stay overnight until a judge could set bail, he spent two hours working out a spell, then released himself on his own recognizance by teleporting home. He still planned to defend himself, but hoped that it would be clear than any jail time would be served only if he, not the justice system, thought it was warranted.

By that time, groups for the sharing of useful spells had already begun to spring up. The defensive and escape spells made the list that all magical bronies were advised to learn first. The curve of attacks was bent even further down.

Bronies had been through the confusion and the first reaction by the rest of the world. They settled into an uneasy stalemate. They were allowed to live their lives.

Comments

[RubberBrony]

I want magicks... dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Vinyl_sad.png

[Slaughterstone]

This is so good I can't stop reading! I'll ether finish this in one sitting or collapse from my fever.

[drnachos]

RACISM AGAINST ZE MAGICS

WE NEED MLK TO COME BACK TO LIFE AS A BRONY

[Uber_Shy]

AH human bigotry. It's sad how accurately it is portrayed in this story.

[book_burner]

Ok, I apologize for my comment in the previous chapter. You could have foreshadowed it better, but it's plain that magic is insinuating itself into their brains and telling them, "This is natural, it's fine, don't be curious."

[chrismonteith]

nothing but praise for this, at least from what I'm seeing

[uis]

“We do reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. And in this case, I’m going to have to insist on exercising that right.”

This sounds like huge consumer protection law violation. Though this is Merica we are talking about.