The Conversion Bureau: The First Choice

by Westphalian_Musketeer

Chapter Eleven

The train wheels ground against the tracks in front of Ponyville's train station. Steam hissed out of the engine as the group disembarked. Willard looked around briefly; several stone buildings, at most five stories high, had been built along the outer edge of the town. The rest of the town gave off the vibrant feel of a rural community, with various brightly colored, wooden, warm and welcoming buildings. An open market was bustling with activity as ponies went about their lives. Willard and Miles walked together behind Monica.

As they progressed through the town Miles gave a low whistle. “Whew, yep, it was true about the gender ratio. I’ve seen like maybe, twenty guys this far? And a good solid hundred ladies.”

“No excuse not to be a gentleman Miles. I don’t need my neck on the line because you pushed it with the ladies,” Willard stated, walking forward, but looking sternly at his charge.

“Hey, you know I wouldn't do something like that!” Miles’ ears wilted. “Ugh, the thought of doing that is...” Miles looked at Willard as though the earth pony had kicked him across a room.

“Like thinking about eating when you’re full?” When Miles nodded, Willard chuckled, “Relax, I’m sure you’ll do fine, just be friendly, and don’t talk too much about what you did in the past. Ladies hate it when you go on about yourself.”

“Alright! We’re here!” Monica called out. In front of the group was a large, hollowed out oak tree, surprisingly thick, but regarding what it contained...

“That’s it?” Miles exclaimed, “That’s the Human Archives Project that Celestia didn't lock up in her castle! It’s smaller than an apartment building in New York!”

“Well...” Monica turned back to the two stallions and looked at them hopefully. “Princess Celestia told me: ‘It’s the large oak tree, just go inside and talk with Spike; you’ll know him when you see him.’”

“Nononono, there is no way she’s locked away so much in Canterlot. What’s in here?” Miles fumed, sitting on his haunches and waving his hooves about. “All of Doctor Seuss’ books? Is that what she left for Equestrians to read? That’s about all this... library could fit.”

“It’s bigger on the inside!” a brown stallion with an hourglass cutie mark said as he trotted past the group with a wide smile on his face.

“Right... well, let’s see this ‘Spike’ fellow,” Miles said as he rolled his eyes.

The group entered and inspected the room. Off to one side was a kitchen, a flight of stairs at the back of the room led to a large bed. Lining the walls were inset bookshelves adorned with various brightly coloured books. The most noticeable feature of the room however, was not the absence of human books, a piece of furniture, or even the distinctly invigorating odor of acorns. It was the pony-sized, purple and green lizard sitting at a desk scribbling away at a piece of paper with a quill and ink. On its back was a set of membranous wings.

Monica faced slightly away from creature and side-stepped towards it, keeping her breaths quiet. “Uh, excuse me,” she said quietly. The lizard lifted its head and looked at her. “Are you Spike?”

“Yes I am, and before you ask, I’m a dragon,” the creature responded.

Monica’s mouth opened as she nodded and stood straight. “Ah, hi, I’m Monica, the archivist from Earth? I’m here to help with the project on this side of the barrier.” She gestured with her hoof to the others. “This is my uncle Willard, and his friend Miles, they’re interested in helping with the project.”

“Fantastic!” Spike exclaimed. “You have no idea how glad I am that we’ll have more ponies to help out with this. And a pegasus no less! That’ll make it easy for you to reach items high up on the shelves. Although it’s even nicer to have helping hooves that know something about what they’re handling. Written Script has been a big help since he got back from earth, but there’s only so much one pony can do.”

Spike offered a clawed hand to Monica and the newfoal looked at it briefly. Taking a quick breath, Monica put her hoof between the four-bladed vice that was Spike’s claw and shook it weakly.

“What about that unicorn?” Spike asked. “Miles you said? What does he know? It’d be great to have someone dedicated to work the printing press and type-set.” Spike smiled widely. Surprisingly, most of his teeth were flat for grinding, though he had eight intimidating canines.

Monica pulled her hoof away from Spike and took a deep breath. “Miles doesn’t have any specialized skills, but I’m sure he’s willing to learn.” Monica looked back at Miles, who was nodding.

“Uh,” Miles said, “not to offend, but... none of these books are from Earth.”

“Well of course, this is just the Ponyville library; the archives are down below!” Spike answered, slapping the ground with his tail.

Willard tilted his head. “Down below?”

Spike got up from the desk and dropped to all fours. “Follow me,” he instructed, and headed towards a flight of stairs tucked away between two shelves. The group descended the stairs.

“Storing all of the archives in Canterlot wasn't going to happen. So early on Princess Celestia decided to start constructing an archive outside of Canterlot as a main housing. It was decided on Ponyville. Stable bedrock once you get down about thirty feet, close to Canterlot, train station—oh, and uh, me and Twilight already lived here. It was the natural choice!”

As the group descended further Miles whistled. “Dang, this goes deep, how did ponies get this far down without anything like industrial mining equipment?”

“Technically, ponies didn't,” Spike explained. “There’s a group of diamond dogs that lived outside of Ponyville. They mostly kept to themselves, but when they were told they’d keep all the gems they found while clearing out the archives they jumped on the opportunity.”

Miles’ eyes widened at the mention of diamond dogs. “Those bastards who are helping the PER?” he asked with a slight growl in his throat.

“PER? Oooooohhhh, Ponification as Earth’s Rebirth, no, different diamond dogs. Hard to tell what one pack will do from another.” Spike looked over his shoulder and saw Miles nodding, though the unicorn's brows were still furrowed.

Monica gave out a heavy breath. “How many more stairs?” she asked.

“Let’s see, Twilight counted them once, then measured how long it took to get down them. We've been walking for what? Two minutes? So we've got about—ah, never mind, we’re here.”

The stairs leveled off to a twelve foot long hall that ended in a large, vaulting arch. Spike walked through in front of the others.

Each newfoal entered and examined the immense room. Miles gave out another long whistle, Willard raised his eyebrows and nodded, and Monica’s wings shifted excitedly. The room had a ceiling that reached up fifty feet, all along were stone shelves that reached up to thirty feet high. The expanse seemed to go on for miles.

Spike turned to a staircase that led up to a balcony over on the right. “Twilight’s study for the archives is just up here. Let’s get you introduced!” He beckoned the others by moving his lengthy corded tail like an arm waving them over.

Monica grinned before launching herself into the air and up onto the balcony above. “Much better!” she called down to her uncle. “I was getting tired of a cramped old tunnel!”

Willard chuckled and started heading up the stairs with Miles. When they reached the top they saw Spike open a door and slip inside; his tail kept the door open as Monica entered eagerly. Miles and Willard soon entered thereafter and looked around the room. It was fairly large, about the same size as the lecture halls back at the conversion bureau, but the room was bisected by a large curtain. The room was well lit with a large number of mage lights, and behind the curtain a moving shadow could be seen.

“Twilight! Good news!” Spike called out. “The newfoals from Earth are finally here, and guess what? One of them is a pegasus! This is going to make things here soooooo much easier. I’ll actually have time to myself for once!”

“What?” a feminine voice called out from behind the curtain, followed by a metallic clang. “OW! Spike! What did I tell you? I wasn't to be disturbed; this project I’m working on is much too important!”

“But uh, where do you want the newfoals to help?” the adolescent dragon inquired, lifting himself onto his haunches and shrugging.

“Send the ones with experience in the archives to Script and the others down to help Cyrus,” the voice responded. “And don’t forget to show them the barracks and mess hall!”

Spike sighed and turned back to the group. “Sorry about that, Twilight gets like that when she’s obsessing over something.”

“What’s she working on?” Monica asked.

“I dunno, something about lodestones or something.” Spike began to walk back to the door.

“Lodestones?” Miles pulled his head back and twitched his ears.

“Magnets,” Willard answered, following behind their dragon guide.

A few minutes later the group stopped by a large side door. “Okay,” Spike announced, “barracks and mess hall are in here, pick a bed that suits you, and fall in it when you feel so inclined. Meals are served at seven and eleven in the morning, and six at night, be sure to tell Carrot Top if you have any preferences. Stipends are distributed every second Wednesday in the mess hall at three. For now let’s introduce you three to your bosses.”

With that Spike quickly stalked off, leading the trio of newfoals further along the right side of the archive hall. A hundred feet further was another door. Spike faced Monica and gestured with a claw. “Script should be in there, he’ll get you set up helping him organize the books onto the shelves. Good luck, it’s not easy using the Dewey decimal system without camp-poo-tors.”

“Computers,” Miles corrected.

“Whatever,” Spike replied as he continued on.

As Willard passed by his niece he mouthed the words ‘love you’ before continuing on. Spike was setting a brisk pace and the two former soldiers had to canter swiftly to keep up.

“Is it just me, or is he getting a little irritated?” Miles whispered.

“Probably expected to be able to go outside after he handed us off to Twilight,” Willard responded as he faced his friend. The blue earth pony’s ears pricked as a grinding sound reached his ears.

Spike stopped in front of a rough-hewn wall. The dragon rotated his head around for a few seconds and then walked towards the sound. A minute later they saw a group of hunched over, bipedal creatures clawing at the wall with massive paws, with each swipe a chunk of rock flew off and was quickly retrieved by a slightly smaller creature and thrown into a massive cart. Stepping closer, the creature’s became more defined; they were covered in fur and had greenish-yellow eyes, their jaws elongated into a muzzle, and they all wore some kind of clothing.

Spike walked towards one of the creatures that was overseeing the entire endeavour. It was a dark grey, with massive shoulders that gave him the shape of an inverted triangle. His long arms gripped at a belt looped around his waist. The belt held five small daggers that looked as though they were meant for throwing.

“Hey Cyrus!” Spike called, “I have some workers you could use, nice strong ponies to help out you diamond dogs with hauling the rocks!”

The diamond dog leader turned to the dragon and looked at him briefly before flicking his vision up to the two ponies. His eyes widened at the sight of Miles and unfolded his arms. He waved his arms in front of him, and shook his head.

“No! No unicorns!” he exclaimed in a gravelly, yet at the same time high-pitched voice.

“Why not?” Miles asked. “Not good enough for you?”

“That! That right there! Complaining! Noises, unicorns always make noise, especially the females! Especially females with purple in their fur or mane!” Cyrus pointed at Miles while looking at Spike. “He goes.” His finger then moved to point at Willard. “He stay!”

“Twilight told me that they both help you, and I’m not going to spend time finding something he can do without hurting himself!” Spike replied.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Miles stated behind Spike's back.

“And we’re not going to work with a noisy unicorn hounding us! They whine, make noise, complain! Give him to music ponies, they make noise, he makes noise, everyone happy!”

With that, the alpha diamond dog went to the massive cart and grabbed a harness. The cart was twice as tall as Cyrus, which made it about eleven feet in height. It was twenty feet long and eight feet wide. Poking out of the top were rocks.

Cyrus stopped in front of Willard and glared at Miles. “Why are you still here?”

“Fine! I’m going. I'd prefer working somewhere else.” The grey unicorn marched off with the dragon, each muttering bitterly. Willard heard Miles extol Cyrus’s ancestry in an unfavorable light, which prompted the diamond dog to reach into the cart and grab a stone. With a squeeze, he pulverized it into pebbles.

He looked down at Willard and nodded before pointing down between two massive stone shelves. “Bring the cart down there, you will find hall that leads to Ghastly Gorge, there, pack mates will empty cart, then you bring back, understand?”

“Absolutely, not that your grammar made it easy,” Willard deadpanned. He slipped into the harness.

“No disrespect to alpha! Pony!”

“Yeah yeah,” Willard said. “You’re the boss, I’m the muscle.” The earth pony strained for a brief moment as he got over the cart’s initial resistance to movement. As he walked off between the shelves he smiled to himself. “Big muscle.”

Monica stepped into the room. Binders, papers, quills, and ink pots readily surrounded her as she let the door shut behind her. In the middle of the room was a crate with a white pony flank adorned with the image of an unraveled scroll.

“Uh hello?” Monica asked hesitantly.

“Just one minute!” the stallion replied. “Let’s see, just one more thing according to the inventory that I’m looking for. Kafka, Kafka, Kafka...Yes! Here it is!” The stallion pulled himself out of the crate with a book wrapped in a magical field. He looked over at Monica and smiled. “Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis!” he exclaimed happily. He walked over to a table and deposited the book. “Phah! There, finally found the last work I was looking for.” He looked over the dozen volumes on the desk. “Now this is something that is relevant in the modern day and age.”

“So you’re working on fiction as well?” Monica asked, taking a step forward.

“And histories, science texts, pretty much whatever Dr. Sparkle tells me to organize. It’s great to have such a renowned Equestrian scholar heading this project! Have you met her?” He faced her with an open smile.

“Y-yeah,” Monica replied while looking at the ground. “She seems... really dedicated to her work.”

“That she is. Oh, but where are my manners?” The unicorn shook out his short purple mane. “Written Script, assistant archivist. And you most certainly must be...”

“Monica Radrim,” the green pegasus replied.

“A pleasure,” Script responded as he lifted up a hoof.

Monica lifted up a hoof and let the white archivist bump his hoof against hers gently.

“Seems a little quaint compared to hand shaking doesn't it?” Script asked.

“Yeah, so, you've been to earth, haven’t you?” Monica inspected the stallion neutrally.

“Indeed I have, six years at Cambridge, doesn't compare to what Dr. Sparkle managed to accomplish though.” He smiled warmly and returned to examining the texts. “Alright, now to get these to the appropriate area on the shelves, come on, it’ll be nice not having to get some unwieldy step ladder and roll it to where I need it.” Script floated several of the texts into a nearby saddle bag and started out the door.

Monica followed closely. Her head wandered around looking at all the shelves, a great many of them were still empty. “So, how is it all organized?” the green pegasus asked.

“Modified Dewey decimal system, to account for the number of books. Two letter code for genre, two letter code for sub-genre, then organized according to author, and then another code is applied. We try to make a few redundant copies for public circulation as well.” Written Script rounded a corner and started walking to some shelves that had a great deal more books arranged in them. “Much better than the system we had before, alphabetized by title! Organizing the sum total of humanity requires a little more finesse than a community library.” A lighthearted chuckle punctuated his statement as he came to a halt in front of an avenue between two shelves and clucked his tongue. “Ah we’re here, SF, short fiction.”

The two ponies walked to the middle of the aisle before Script fished out a book from his saddle bag. He placed it gently on a shelf and then gestured to it with a hoof as he turned his head to Monica. “Could you pick that up and place it on the third highest shelf, second to the right, and between the two books that have codes to match up?”

“I’d love to!” Monica announced as she flapped her wings and went into a hover. She floated over to the book and nestled it between her fore hooves, before rising up to the required shelf. There, she scanned the books and muttered, “416.9087J, okay, that means you would go... here!” She placed the book into its respective slot and turned around. The verdant pegasus glided back down to the ground, briefly enjoying the feeling of being airborne. She landed on her hooves with a light thud as she folded her wings.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Script grinned as Monica did the same.

Spike led Miles down to another door. Miles’ sensitive equine ears could quite clearly make out the sound of a classical piece of music being played, along with the slight overtone of a feminine singer. The purple dragon waited outside the door and pressed a button. The music soon died down, and Miles could hear hoofsteps approaching the door before it opened. The pony revealed was grey earth pony mare with an almost black mane, on her flank was a treble clef.

“Ah, hello Spike, is Rarity here to pick up her sister?” she asked.

The dragon shook his head. “Nope, I have a newfoal to help you with handling the instruments, unicorn, so he’ll be helpful for tuning to if you’re willing to train him.”

The mare stepped out of the doorway a few feet and looked at Miles. “Ah, hello. I suppose somepony to help with clean-up after recording sessions would be nice.” She extended out a hoof. “Octavia, and you are?”

“Edward Miles, pleasure to meet you,” the unicorn replied with a nod and flat expression. He lifted his hoof and pressed it against Octavia’s firmly and then moved it up and down.

“I beg your pardon, but what exactly are you doing with the frog of my hoof?” the musician asked as she flinched her hoof backwards.

“I uh, was shaking hooves?” Miles answered sheepishly.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Still can’t get through some of the most basic forms of etiquette, well, you’ll get used to it. Come in, we were just winding down from our recording session anyway.”

With that, the mare walked back into the room, and Miles followed. Spike sighed in relief and went back to the archive entrance, glad to have the opportunity to have some alone time.

Miles looked around the room, in it several ponies with instruments were seated. There was a pianist along with several brass and string instruments. Off to one side was a smaller pastel-maned, white-coated unicorn mare. On her flank were two crossed microphones. At the front of the group was an elderly unicorn conductor; most of his mane was missing.

Octavia walked over to the elderly stallion and whispered in his ear. So soft was the sound that even with the ears of a pony, Miles was unable to make out the words. Guess you learn how to be quiet with ears like these, he thought.

A few moments later the stallion nodded his head. “I suppose we can call it a day then. Just make sure he doesn't damage any of the instruments while he’s putting them away.” The stallion turned to the other musicians. “Alright, session’s over everypony. I think we’re very close to being able to begin recording another batch of songs. We’ll practice once more on Monday and attempt recording afterwards.”

With a few nods and grunts the ponies shuffled out of their seats and made their way out of the door, laying their instruments by the chairs. The last one out the door was the elderly stallion, who shut the door behind him, leaving Octavia and Miles in the room.

“Alright, so you can help by moving all of the instruments to where they are stored in the side room over there,” Octavia said as she turned to Miles, gesturing to a second door. “Be careful with them, they’re all hoof crafted.”

“Right,” Miles said with a nod. He focused first on a violin and lifted it up carefully. He directed it to follow him as he made his way into the side room. Inside, multiple cases were open, Miles set the instrument in one of the cases and returned outside. He repeated the process until all that was left was a large cello. Octavia’s eyes widened as a the cyan glow of Miles’ magic wrapped around the instrument.

“Be careful with that please,” she said as she stretched a hoof pointed to the cello.

“Hey relax, I got all the others put away without a problem,” Miles responded. He brought the cello into the room and put it away. When he left the side room he smirked. “Told you I’d do it without a hitch.”

Octavia gave a sigh of relief before putting on a serious expression. “Right then, let’s get to the mess hall.” She turned to the door. “The others are likely there for dinner already,” she said, stocking off out the door with Miles following.

“So, uh, what exactly did I do wrong with my greeting?” he asked.

“Didn't they go over it in the bureau?” she responded tartly with an eyebrow raised.

“I was uh... distracted during the first few classes.” They both turned a corner as Miles looked down at his hooves.

“Family issues? Wrapping up some last things before crossing over? Thinking of not going through with it?” Octavia pressed.

“Isn't it rude to answer a question with a question?” Miles asked.

“I’m glad you managed to get that down pat.” Octavia smirked as they passed through a shelf devoted to fiction. “So the hoof thing, you don’t shake it once you make contact, you just bump your hoof to whoever you’re greeting and that is it.”

“That’s it? Doesn't that seem a little informal?” Miles picked up his pace in order to walk beside Octavia.

“Well like I mentioned before, if you do what you did when I first met you it feels weird on the frog. That is the softer, triangular part of the hoof near the back?” Octavia raised an eyebrow and tilted her head as she looked at Miles.

“Yes, I know what the frog is. I paid attention in the anatomy class,” the unicorn newfoal sighed. “But isn't there some other way of greeting that wouldn't seem so... gangster?”

“I’m not entirely sure I follow what you mean, what exactly do you mean by ‘gangster’?” Octavia’s head tilted until it was sideways before she righted it and perked her ears to hear Miles’ response.

“Just another way of saying informal. So what about bowing? Kneeling? There’s gotta be something a little more appropriate than smacking hooves together,” Miles asked as the mare led them past a shelf filled with autobiographies.

“Bowing?” Octavia inquired with a sharp intake of breath.

“Yeah, you know, when you lower your front half towards someone, or somepony?” Miles frowned slightly at the shocked look on Octavia’s face.

“Oh dear that’s far too formal for a general greeting. I thought humans thought the same.” The grey mare blew out a breath she had let build up in her lungs.

“Well, we do, but we have other options for greeting as well.” Miles glanced around. “What is it about bowing that get’s ponies worked up?”

“Well, it’s just more of a thing nobles do, and, well...” Octavia pointed around the shelves with her muzzle. “We’re doing something that shouldn't get bogged down in ceremony. Goodness, I sound like Written Script.” A small hint of pink flushed the mare's cheeks.

They soon reached the barracks and entered. A line of ponies waited in front of a counter. Behind the counter was a yellow earth pony mare with an orange mane. She lifted a ladle from a basin with a careful hoof and emptied it into the bowl of Written Script.

“Thank you my little Carrot Top. How’s Dinky doing?” Script asked as he smiled.

“Wonderful, she’s been having fun visiting with her auntie.” Carrot top leaned over and pecked Script on the cheek.

At the back of the line, Monica and Willard were waiting with their own bowls to be filled. Miles and Octavia moved behind them as Willard caught sight of them.

“How was your first day?” Willard asked cheerfully.

“Good, didn't break anything when I put away all the musical instruments,” Miles responded cordially. “And what about you two?”

“Well, I learned about how all the documents are arranged, and even helped shelve a few,” Monica replied, fluttering her wings slightly.

“Nothing much, moved a few thousand pounds of rock,” Willard stated coyly.

Miles whistled. “They don’t joke about earth pony strength.”

“No they don’t,” the navy earth pony responded.

“And you were going to introduce me to your friends when precisely?” Octavia piped up.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Miles stammered. “This is Octavia, my... boss I suppose?”

“More precisely the pony who’s going to be making sure he doesn't inadvertently insult somepony,” she answered with a smirk.

"Sounds like my job," jibed Willard.

“Anyway,” Miles said as he rolled his eyes, “Octavia, these are my friends, Willard Radrim, and his niece, Monica Radrim.” The teal-maned unicorn gestured to the navy and green ponies in turn.

“It’s a pleasure!” Monica reached out with a hoof and Octavia bopped it with hers.

“Likewise,” Willard stated as he bowed his head.

The group reached the front of the line and were served carrot and split pea soup before they went to a table. They ate their meal in relative silence and soon Miles, Monica, Willard, and Octavia walked to the sleeping quarters.

It was a well sized room, with seventy beds, each with a chest at the foot of them. Most of the beds were unoccupied. Miles, Monica, and Willard flopped into three beds beside each other while Octavia went to a bed and started chatting with a white unicorn with an electric blue mane.

“So, common bedrooms,” Miles stated, “hope no one here snores.”

“Might not have wanted to choose a bed next to Uncle,” Monica giggled.

“Yeah yeah, consider it white noise to sleep to.” Willard adjusted himself on the mattress for a few moments before settling into a comfortable position.