Interview with an Exile
“I’m glad you said yes, Miss Sixteen.”
Sixteen the Changeling smiled a fanged smile at her visitor as she fluffed up some pillows in the study.
“It’s not a problem, Mister Cast,” she restated. The interviewer, Type Cast, had been trying to contact her for some time now and he seemed somewhat happy about finally getting to interview a changeling.
“I’ll just put this here.” Type Cast placed a recording device on the floor between the pillows. He pressed a button and rattled off some testing words. “There. Are you ready, Miss?”
Sixteen nodded.
“Well then. Miss Sixteen, could you first introduce yourself to our readers?” Cast started, sounding noticeably more professional.
“Sure,” Sixteen replied, sounding just as raspy and easy-going as always. “I go by 16-7-52-1, or just plain Sixteen usually, which was my personnel number before I got exiled. Some of my friends call me Sixie though. That’s just wrong.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the interviewer coughed, “but do you have any other names?”
“Sure I do. But exiles aren’t supposed to use their personal names so I just shortened my number instead.” Sixteen paused to ponder her words. “I suppose it’s technically over already, but until it’s all official I’m honoring tradition. And before you ask, no I’m not saying my name. So what do you want to know?”
Type Cast’s interests were raised, along with one of his eyebrows. “What exactly does the personnel number mean?” he asked.
“Ah, that wasn’t something you originally meant to ask, isn’t it?” Sixteen asked with a knowing smirk. Cast nodded. “Well, it’s a kind of hierarchical position indicator. You read it from right to left,” the changeling started to explain. She made matching foreleg gestures that she knew wouldn’t show up in the final publication. “I’m from the first hive, fifty-second cluster, and seventh squadron. And in that squadron, I was the sixteenth worker. Therefore, sixteen seven fifty-two one.”
“Do you have any other examples?” Type Cast asked, furiously scribbling down what his recorder wouldn’t catch.
“Of course. There’s 25-1-98-7 Buzzing Hide, who visits every so often,” Sixteen revealed, quickly pointing up to the first floor, “and my brother Boloria, who’s 4-52-1.”
“Your brother is missing a number, isn’t he?”
“Not really. He’s a sub-commander,” the changeling said with noticeable pride, “which means the fourth number is zero and thus left out. Queen Thysania has a number too – just ‘one’.” She paused for a fond breath. “Some ponies, when they hear the banter between me and Buzz, think he’s my subordinate because we call each other by certain titles but technically we’re of equal rank. By that same token, Boloria would outrank me… if I was in his squadron!”
Type Cast pondered what he’d learned and scratched his chin. “Then, if this Buzzing Hide character’s hive number is seven, would that mean he’s not with Queen Thysania?”
“You’re a sharp one, mister. He isn’t. But I’m not at liberty to say who the seventh queen is.”
“Considering the use of the term ‘hive’, what does that mean exactly?”
“Not much, to be honest,” Sixteen admitted with a slight shrug. “One of the first changeling leaders, when she came up with the first version of the system I just described, took a cue from insects. Maybe that was because of our wings, but who knows? Pop culture seems to think we’re taking it a little further than that, though…”
“Ah yes, the insect hive mind,” Type Cast nodded.
“We have dismissed such claims. There is, in fact, no hive mind. If we did have one, we wouldn’t need a hierarchy like that, right? We’re not any more telepathically gifted than the average unicorn. We’re more like somewhat limited empaths.” Sixteen paused as an angry frown grew on her face. “And don’t get me started on the whole egg thing, that the Queen lays a thousand eggs every so often to form her hive. We’re mammals! We reproduce the same way as any pony,” she called out somewhat more fiercely than intended. “When I called Boloria my brother I wasn’t speaking figuratively; I have a mother and father, and that mother is not Thysania. Though she certainly is a mother to us all… but you could say the same about Celestia, right?”
Type Cast paused to process the implications. “I suppose that’s no exoskeleton either, then?”
“No, no it isn’t. We have our skeletons on in the inside, thank you,” Sixteen confirmed. She held up one leg, pointing out how one of her holes had worn away down to the bone. “What some ponies think is an exoskeleton is actually, as Mister Victory told me, a form of dermal armor – thick skin… though we do sometimes molt.”
Type Cast flinched at the sight. “Doesn’t that hurt to have your skeleton exposed like that?”
“As a matter of fact, it doesn’t.”
“Well, that’s good then, I guess. Since we’re on the subject of mistaken pop culture,” Type Cast offered, “what about the thing where changelings turn other ponies into more changelings?”
“Oh, ugh no. I don’t know where that came from,” Sixteen shook her head. “Well, actually I do, sort of. It could’ve grown from the whole replacement infiltration tactic. That’s the one where a pony is kidnapped, and a changeling takes their place to collect the love for that pony. I prefer the OC tactic myself, but I was never high enough in the hierarchy to make such a call.” She shrugged again. “I know Boloria and a few other sub-commanders of the 52th share that opinion. Of course, the whole point of the changeling integration program that put me here in Canterlot in the first place is to not require any infiltration at all. To let us just be us as we go around our business among ponies and soak in the atmosphere.”
“That does sound nice,” Type Cast admitted. “How are things going with that anyway?”
“It’s all going pretty well. Ponies used to be noticeably uncomfortable in the months before I settled into this default form.” Sixteen paused and flashed into the nondescript form she used to have and back again. “Nowadays, I can walk about the city and most ponies give me genuine smiles in passing. That and appreciation, which is something I could really use. It’s not nearly as good as love, but it’s still food.”
“What exactly can you transform into?” the interviewer asked with genuine curiosity.
“Well, most changelings are limited to ponies. With a little training you can do different sizes, too,” Sixteen answered, again with the foreleg gestures. “The better your training, the bigger the size difference can get. I can’t, for example, turn into a convincing Celestia, but I can do an epic Twilight Sparkle,” she explained, temporarily changing her voice to that of the book princess. “Some changelings are so good rumor has it they can turn into things like dragons. The vine thing is nothing but FUD though; fear, uncertainty, and doubt.”
“Vines?”
“Vines, furniture, little bunnies… Actually, the bunnies are probably the most likely to actually be feasible. There’s illusionary magic, of course, but that has the same limitations as when any other unicorn uses it. The thing about changeling transformations is that we can do instinctively what other ponies would have to learn, practice, and master. Luna has this thing where she can switch between her regular appearance and that of Nightmare Moon, and the way she does that is related to changeling magic. It just comes relatively easy to her because of her personal history with the Nightmare.”
“I suppose if a unicorn disguised herself with illusion magic you could tell that it wasn’t really a chair?” the interviewer guessed.
“Or if a changeling did, yes. Not to mention there’s this tell-tale… shimmer, I suppose you could call it.” Sixteen looked at Type Cast for some confirmation. He nodded in agreement. “If a unicorn were to give herself illusionary wings, you could tell they were fake because every so often they’d ‘blur out’, I guess? And to go back to the vine example, the unicorn – or changeling, I guess – would have to turn invisible, and project the vine. That’s a very difficult feat that’ll shimmer a lot. And even if you miss the visual distortions, you’d notice when you walk into a pony. Or not walk into a dragon. But if a changeling wants to alter or hide her horn, that’s not an illusion. The only problem is that when we hide our horns, we can’t use any magic other than transformations.”
“And the same goes for hiding your wings and flying, I take it?”
“That’s exactly right. If you see a changeling without a horn use magic, the horn’s just invisible. Even if you miss the shimmer, you’d still know it’s there from the aura outline, if you pay enough attention to those. A great many ponies don’t, and they completely miss the fact that their loved one’s magic has turned a bright green”, the changeling remarked with a smirk.
“You’d think that would only help the infiltrators,” Type Cast guessed, a little uneasy.
Sixteen was actually looking a little disappointed. “It did, and still does. But that doesn’t mean some of us can’t facehoof at the shortsightedness of some – no, most ponies.”
“Well, this was certainly informative. I’m sure our readers will like some firsthand clarification. Thank you for your time, and good luck with the exile thing,” Type Cast wrapped up, his hoof already on the button.
“Thank you, I’m happy to help.”
With a soft click, the recording device was stopped.
“I’ll send you a copy when it’s done, okay?” Type Cast offered.
“Thanks, and good luck.”