The Conversion Bureau: The Coldest Dish

by Silvertie

Chapters

• Actus Reus
• Modus Operandi
• Mens Rea
• In Memoriam

Actus Reus

The Conversion Bureau: The Coldest Dish

By Silvertie

Part 1 – Actus reus

Gun smoke hung in the frosty air. What was left of the gunshot echoed around the buildings, drowned out by the sounds of diminished, but still thriving, city life that reverberated all around.

I fell backwards, landing on my back in a dirty, shallow puddle with a splash. Was this it? My destiny to die in a filthy alleyway, failing to protect the one I loved?

As I rolled over and onto my knees, hunched over in pain, my girlfriend and would-be wife – she backed off, screaming. The one who put me in this position, standing over me, for I blocked his path to her. He looked down at me, and spat – the globule of spit landed next to me, but I was too weak to flinch; a bullet to the gut saw to that.

He held up the gun, grinning, and pointed it at me. I couldn’t care less – if my life was the price I paid to buy time for Sarah to get away, so be it.

He saw the look in my eyes; I was going to die, and he knew it. He put up the gun, and grinning cruelly, pointed it at the one person I didn’t want to ever see an instrument of death pointed at.

“No...” I grunted, softly, and coughed – a fleck of fluid landed in my own eye, and for a moment, my vision was smeared with red.

I can’t remember what happened next; I’m sure the thug said something, and Sarah just screamed louder; she begged me to get up, to be okay.

I doubted it was possible, but... I had to get up; had to do something. I staggered to my feet, to an amused grin from the thug. I looked up, and my proximity to death seared the image into my eyes forever; the shooter: Caucasian with his brown hair and vivid green eyes. Sarah: Blonde, pretty, smart; she had it all, and could have taken her pick of suitors; and she still chose me.

The gun; dark steel, smoking barrel, and all. The casing from the shot which felled me; sitting idly by in the dirt, also smoking. Nobody else that I could see; no witnesses, no help.

What was I supposed to do? The thug backhanded me to the side, knocking me away and into the wall where I collapsed, and moved towards Sarah, pinning her against the far wall of the alley-way.

So much trouble for one little hand-bag - should I have let him take it? Bags were replaceable; Sarah wasn’t, and here she was, in danger of being taken from me.

The small point of pain in my gut subsided; adrenaline kicked in, giving me one last chance to make it right; one last chance to succeed. I stifled a groan of pain as I got up; Sarah kept screaming for help, her view of me obscured by the shooter himself.

I staggered forward, closing the gap; the shooter was in arm’s reach, and I took the chance, just as he felt my presence, and turned around.

Bang. Another bullet, thudding square into my chest, higher up; I coughed involuntarily, but didn’t let go of him; instead transferring my grip to the gun pressed against my chest. The shooter’s eyes went wide, and I saw myself in his eyes; a blonde-brown young man, with brown eyes and blood trickling out of his mouth.

The gun left my chest, and I forced it up; I was fighting for not my life, but Sarah’s: and that was all the motivation I needed. The gun was pointing into the air between us when it fired another bullet. He flinched, I didn’t.

The gun moved another thirty degrees to the shooter’s direction, my grip forcing his hands to betray himself. The gun shook like a rattle as he put his all into it; this wasn’t a game anymore, it was dead serious; the gun moved back to a vertical position, and Sarah started shouting encouragement for me.

“You can do it! I love you!”

The moment turned to treacle; I had a sixth sense when it came to trouble sometimes, and I got a burning feeling in my heart that wasn’t the bullet.

The gun shook just a little more, and went off, one more time. I watched the small lump of metal alloy fly out of the end of the barrel, and up into the air, towards a metal fire escape.

Bullets don’t bounce off metal things like a super-charged pinball; I think the statistic is that maybe one in some obscenely huge number would bounce like that, in such a cartoony, ridiculous way. You’d have better chances of winning the Lottery’s first prize.

I should have bought a ticket. The bullet hit the railing, and bounced with a metallic, almost amusing spang, and what happened next hit me almost as if like a hammer. The thug shook himself out of my grip, and sucker-punched me in the gut.

I couldn’t believe it. I collapsed, my last reserves of strength failing me. Sarah collapsed next to me; a hole in her shoulder, next to her neck; the clavicle, doctors told me later. I heard a splash as a gun was dropped in the puddle behind me, and loud footsteps as someone ran for it.

And so there we lay; bride and groom-to-be. She looked at me in shock, and I tried a reassuring smile.

“It can’t be that bad. You got hit once,” I complained weakly. That got an equally weak chuckle, a cough, and a gasp for breath.

“I... “ she said, coughing, “love... you...”

Her mouth moved one last time, her final word dying on her lips with her breathing. My eyes teared up.

“I love you too, Sarah...” I whispered, and the two bullets finally took their toll; my vision faded to black.

Did she hear my last words to her? I’d like to think so.

======

White light. Correction, white lights – fluorescent tubes. They whooshed by in a blur; my chest was on fire, noise filling the air. Paramedics were everywhere, running into uniformed policemen and onlookers.

A concerned face, covered by a medical mask, leaned over me, asking me questions I couldn’t answer – I just wanted to sleep.

The face gave up, making a note as I blacked out once again.

======

Hospital gowns – horrible things, even if you are lucky enough to get one that buttons up on the side, and not the back. Hospital was warm enough, though; a stark contrast to 90% of the homes out on the other side of the window I was looking through.

Other nations and cities, they got warmer because of global warming. We froze a little more; go figure.

“Sir? How are you feeling today?”

I turned, carefully, and minded my IV drip this time, using the stand as a support. I was up, but not in any shape to be leaving at any time before a fortnight from now. If I was lucky. A bullet had torn through my guts, perforating my intestine and liver before coming to rest in a kidney, I’d been told; the other bullet had punched a hole in my right lung, after clipping a rib and breaking that; all in all, I could make a mostly full recovery – my lung would never be quite the same, but I’d live.

More than I could say for Sarah, though – I’d been lucky as anything with my two bullets; her one had killed her; it passed clean through her clavicle, and punched a vertical shaft into her lung and heart, lodging in the middle; she’d bled to death long before the paramedics arrived for me, three minutes after the shooting.

“I’m doing better, thanks,” I replied to the intern, struggling to keep my voice level; he was new, he’d told me the other day, and he was in charge of checking up on all the long-term patients – that was me.

“That’s great,” he said, cheerfully. “How’s the rib coming along?”

“Tender. But getting better.” I winced as I sat down in a nearby chair. I was thoroughly sick of the damn bed; too high to get into without exerting myself, and it still couldn’t go any lower than it was. Who thought beds that sat that high off the ground were a good idea?

“Absolutely grand. Uh, you asked me to get some information on the... murder.”

“You got something?” I brightened up – the cops hadn’t found the spare manpower to come in and tell me what was going down with the case, so I’d sent the intern to go and ask around on my behalf.

“Ah, it’s... it’s not good news,” broke the Intern.

“Lay it on me; I don’t think things can get any worse.”

“Let’s see...” the Intern reached inside his jacket for a folded bit of paper, “In the case of the Murder of Sarah-“

“Get to the point,” I stated, irritable.

“Okay, okay – hup doo de doo... here we go. The suspect has evaded all capture, and nobody has seen him in the two weeks since the shooting.”

“Not one witness?” I was disbelieving; there had to have been somebody.

“The police had witnesses and such all the way up to third street,” the Intern reported, leafing back through the folder, “and after that, it’s like he vanished off the face of the earth.”

“Third street... that’s impossible. CCTV cameras are everywhere; it’s a hot-spot for surveillance...”

“Well,” the Intern reasoned, “it’s not like the government’s bothering to maintain them nowadays – everyone’s getting out of town, and it’s only picking up.”

“Yeah... okay, thanks for doing that; I owe you one.”

“No problem, sir. You take it easy, now.”

=====

The chill outside breeze made my breath catch in my throat a little; losing half a lung didn’t seem like much, but...

“Fantastic,” stated the Intern, making a small note as I stood outside the hospital that had been a second home for me for about a month now; I was wearing my old clothes again, albeit with a new t-shirt. A slim, leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers; the ensemble brought back memories, both good and bad. The familiar itch of a loose seam in the back of the collar irritated me, and I was glad it did; two months ago, I would have been surprised to know I’d live to be irritated by something so trivial.

“Am I free to go, now?”

“Yup, that’s everything; now, remember; if it plays up again, you tell us pronto, got it?”

“Sure thing; and I still owe you for looking into the investigation for me.”

“Yeah, well; no offense intended, but you can pay me back by never coming back here. There’s a lot of better places to spend one’s days, like Equestria.”

I looked at him skeptically. “You buy into what those Princesses are selling? Ponification?”

“Why not? I mean, what do you have to lose?”

“Hands, for one thing.”

“Yeah, but you gain so much more...” the Intern said, wistfully, “You can leave your old life behind, start a new one; be a new person!”

“Then tell me this: Why are you still here?” I gestured at the city around us; these days, it was close to a ghost town. Only those who were indecisive or absolutely opposed to becoming ponies remained... like me.

I was one of the indecisive, along with Sarah. We’d been talking about it, and planned to have a good talk about it after the marriage. Well, at least, that’s what she said – I was sure she’d always wanted to be a pony, right from the get-go – it was just me that she was waiting for. Another way I failed her in life.

“Why am I still here? So I can put this damn medical degree to use,” the Intern complained. “I’m not going until I become a real doctor here, or I’ll have wasted those years in med school for nothing.”

I chuckled. Holding off on a supposed life of sunshine and rainbows, just to put a piece of paper to use.

“Good luck with that, man. See you around, I guess.” I turned away, and waved a hand, carefully descending the steps as a brisk wind whipped around me and my jacket.

“You too,” The Intern replied, waving and retreating to within the warmth of the hospital.

I stopped at the curb, and reached into my jacket; a packet of cigarettes welcomed me, and I pulled them out to look at them.

I threw them at the nearest bin to me – they bounced off the rim, and landed in. I only had one and a half lungs left, I didn’t need to fill them with any more tar.

I put out my hand, and a yellow taxi pulled up next to me; at least finding one of these things was simpler these days, and the drivers were Artificial Intelligences, so no chance of these ever leaving.

[Where to, Sir?]

I thought about it.

“Take me to Third Street,” I declared, sitting back. I needed closure; I needed to find out what happened myself.

=======

Third Street – one of the main streets in town, home to countless business institutions and white-collar workplaces - a place where if it didn’t stretch thirty stories up into the sky, it was in the wrong neighborhood.

It was practically covered in CCTV cameras, although if the police reports were anything to go by, most of these things were off-line due to vandalism, and the government wasn’t forking out for replacements, what with the severely reduced human population.

And so, this was how Sarah’s murderer had escaped not only custody, but the world. How? How could you simply walk into a place, and vanish for a month without a single witness?

My eyes roved over the buildings. Perhaps he was hiding in one of these? No, the police would have found him. A clue the police missed? Not likely, month old clues wouldn’t be much help, anyway.

Then my eye settled on a relatively small, black building – a Conversion Bureau. The embassies of Equestria, where a human could walk in one day, and a pastel pony emerge the next, through the magic of ponification.

Something sparked in my mind.

You can leave your old life behind, start a new one; be a new person!

The Intern’s words reverberated around my head. The Conversion Bureau was on third street. Was it possible... no. The cops wouldn’t be that incompetent, could they?

I adjusted my coat, coughed, and began the walk to the precinct. It was question time.

======

“Hello,” drawled the female desk officer, filing her nails with a nail-board, “how may the police department help you today?”

“I’m here to ask a few questions about a case a month ago,” I said. The desk lady didn’t so much as blink, she just kept rubbing.

“Which case?”

“A murder, with Sarah-“

“Oh, that one? Ooh, who are you?” The nail-board stopped rubbing.

“I am... was Sarah’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the officer said, her bored demeanor melting away in sympathy, “I didn’t realize. I was the case officer for that, so ask away.”

“Oh, right. Okay, uh, you guys did look for the shooter, right?”

“Of course, we tracked him down to Third street,” recited the officer, slipping back into boredom a little.

“And... where after that?”

“Don’t know; no witnesses have come forward, and hardly any of the cameras work,” the officer explained, gesturing at the ceiling, “there’s about seventy cameras along the entire street, and only like six or eight actually still work. Do the math.”

“Well, what about the Conversion Bureau?”

“What about it?”

“Did you check there?”

“...no,” the officer admitted, looking like she’d been slapped in the face with a frozen trout.

“Why not?”

“Well... I didn’t think of it straight away... but when I did, the chief told me I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, technically, they’re an embassy – and we have no authority in Equestria. Therefore, it’s practically a safe-house.”

“So he could still be there?”

“Could be, could be. Is this really that important to you?”

I thought about it... for about five seconds. The one who had taken Sarah from me had escaped justice for two months too long.

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“Well... I’ll file a request to investigate, how about that? Make it all legal and such with the Equestrians.”

A sinking feeling in my gut. “How long would that take, roughly?”

“Best guess? About two weeks.” The officer shrugged, a what-can-you-do expression on her face. “Politics.”

“I see,” I said, choking back a scream of frustration, “please put the request in, I guess. I’ll be back.”

“Okay, sure,” the officer said, making a note on a piece of paper, “I’ll file it ASAP. Was there anything else?”

“No, that was it. Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,” I lied.

“Okay; stay safe, citizen,” the officer said with false enthusiasm, returning to her nail-filing.

I turned and walked out of the building; I had a thread, and it was time to start pulling.

======

The Conversion Bureau; compared to its neighbors, it was a squat, charcoal-black, thirteen-story building. Back when Equestria had first built the place, it had seen its fair share of action; crowds of people waiting to be ponified that blocked the whole street, and mobs of Human Liberation Front supporters, intent on causing trouble for the ponies to preserve the humanity left in town.

I still wasn’t sure what side of the table I sat on; sure, Equestria literally gave you a new equine life, but on the other... I’d heard stories. People went in, and came out... different. Past the obvious physical changes, they were just more... cheerful. Upbeat. Honest. Perhaps too much so, it was unnerving talking to a pony that you knew as a human, sometimes.

I pushed open the door, and was hit by a wave of warmth. The building foyer was furnished with soft-looking fabric couches and chairs, low tables, and a generic aqua-blue carpet; it was largely deserted, save for a single, dozing pony at the desk; a vivid lime-green Unicorn with a black mane, he seemed to be wearing a suit of some sort – which was strange, not many ponies wore clothes, from what I knew.

I approached the desk, and stood there. The pony continued to nap. I cleared my throat. He didn’t move. I looked around, and saw a traditional metal bell, the kind you can hit to vent frustration and get attention.

Dingdingdingdingdingdingding

Still nothing; this pony must be absolutely de- wait, what was that? I leaned over the desk, to look at the pony’s ears. Nestled within his ears were two...

“Headphones?” I itched my head, and it clicked. The headphones’ cords were a shade of green that matched his coat, which explained why I hadn’t noticed them; and his dozing... he was listening to a radio! There!

I reached over, and with a brief hesitation, turned it off. He jolted awake, seeing me leaning over his counter with a hand on his radio.

“Whoa, you scared me. Speak up next time!”

“I did.” That was a pseudo-lie. I hadn’t said a thing, but I’d definitely ding’d that bell enough.

“Yeah, well...” the horn on the pony’s head glowed, and the headphones were popped out. “Never mind. What can I do for you, human?”

“Do you keep records of who gets admitted here to be ponified?”

“Ooh, you a cop?”

“...maybe,” I lied again.

“Well, it ain’t gonna work on me, bub. I used to be human, I know how human law works,” stated the pony, jabbing the desk with a hoof, “and I know that you don’t got a single bit of jurisdiction here.”

Great, an ex-human; I suppose that explained his attachment to the radio and the suit, then. Old habits died hard.

“Okay, fine. I’m not a cop. But seriously, I do need to look someone up.”

“Look, humie – I just told you. You can’t boss me about on Equestrian soil, so you’re going to have to give me a reason to search it.”

I racked my brain; Ponies didn’t do things like “revenge”, and even if they were ex-human, like this one, their newly-wired brains might not accept that as a motive. But there was one thing they all did quite well...

“I’m looking for a friend,” I said casually. “He went missing about two months ago around here, I want to see if he maybe got ponified without telling anyone.”

“Really, now?” The pony swiveled his chair around to a small computer; his horn lit up, and he began to type. “So why weren’t you here earlier, then?”

“I got shot up,” I informed, “I just got out of hospital a couple of hours ago.”

“Ouch, sucks, man.” The pony blinked at the logs. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a time, yeah? We cleared about... two dozen humans that day.”

I mentally calculated the time it took to run here from where I’d been shot.

“I’d guess, around 11:30 pm.”

“And... here we go, one registrant, 11:34 pm.”

“That’s great... what happened to him?”

“He got processed and shipped out after four days, off to mainland Equestria,” informed the pony, “Not a lot of ponies hang about for long here, seeing as we have no real training facilities for the newfoals. Enough to get you on your hooves, but beyond that? Sketchy.”

“You hang around,” I remarked.

“That’s because I gave up my old life, not Internet and ‘ritos,” reasoned the pony. “So – what are you going to do, human? Chase him? Or find a new friend?”

Chase him – that was possible, I could do that. But... I’d have to become a pony – Humans could not physically enter Equestria; the shield saw to that. Not to mention the ambient magic in the air would kill most before they got close enough to touch.

Damn it, this was the sort of choice I wanted to make with Sarah, not on my own in an empty building, chasing a murderer.

Just follow your heart, hon’. I know you’ll make the right choice, a memory of Sarah said. She’d said that when I’d admitted my indecision over being a pony.

I’m sure that when you make the choice, it’ll be for all the right reasons.

I looked the desk-pony in the eye, and swallowed. No going back.

“I’m in – where do I sign?”

Modus Operandi

The Conversion Bureau: The Coldest Dish

By Silvertie

Part 2 – Modus Operandi

 “And... there. Ha, not so hard, huh?”

I sat back in the chair while the desk pony collected the papers I’d hastily filled out.

“I honestly thought there’d be more to signing your life away,” I remarked.

“Eeenope,” the pony said, rubber-stamping the sheets, “I had a proper read of this thing one time, and it’s mostly a de-citizenship agreement for the humans, a mishap waiver, and a contract pledging your loyalty to the God-Princesses, Celestia and Luna.”

“Three documents, and I get a new life...”

“Yup. I’m Silver Tie, by the way – welcome to the herd. What’s your name?”

“Does it matter? I’m going to be getting a new life soon, and that means abandoning my current name.”

“Fair call,” Silver said, putting some paper away, “I’ll just call you Hugh, then, short for Human. Did you know you’re the first person to sign up in, like, weeks?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s true,” Silver remarked, motioning for me to follow him out of the reception, “That’s why we’ve been down-staffed to just three ponies, here; me and my buddy, Thunder Slam, we take turns at desk. And Oddball in the lab just does ponifcation as needed.”

“Oddball? He called himself Oddball?”

“Oh, no – actually, forget I called him that. He’s... uh... oh, Null Point. Yeah, an ex-human with the most grandiose name I’ve ever bloody seen. Knows his stuff, though, so can’t fault him.” The unicorn pushed open a swinging door, to reveal a staircase. “Up you go.”

I leaned back and looked at the perfectly good elevator further along the wall. “What happened to the elevator?”

“Oh, that broke. Nopony’s replacing the thing, not worth it, apparently. Listen, go up to the third floor, have a look for Thunder Slam or Null Point, they’ll help you. I gotta go back to the desk, just in case someone else shows up.” The unicorn barked a short laugh. “But I doubt it. I hope you settle in okay!”

The lime unicorn turned, and walked away, whistling a tune. I looked up at the stairs, and felt a pre-emptive twinge of protest from my lung.

This was not going to do me any favors.

======

My lung was screaming at me by the time I got up there. I was fairly sure steps counted as “strenuous exercise” on a scale that the hospital had told me not to do.

I pushed open the stairwell door, to reveal a pleasantly-carpeted and well-walked corridor in a T shape. I was at the top of the T, with three avenues to walk down, to the left, right and straight ahead; however, only the straight-ahead option was even lit; to the left and right, the lights had been left off.

I stayed in the light, and walked down the corridor; I passed a door, which revealed that this was where the three staff ponies lived; the first door proclaimed the room to be Silver Tie’s, the next one along said the same about Thunder Slam; the third had a picture of a galaxy on it.

I knocked on it, and it swung open, revealing a bright purple earth pony stallion, with a pink mane. Sitting pride-of-place on his head was a coriander covered in tin-foil. From what I knew, not a lot of ponies “did” accessories; one of the spokesmares for Equestria, Applejack – she had a stetson hat, and that pony DJ, she had purple goggles; but that was about all I’d seen of them.

No wonder these ponies were here on their own.

“Hello?” the peculiar pony asked, suspiciously; he adjusted his foil helmet a little.

“You’re... you’re Null Point?”

“The one and only,” declared Point, proudly, but then he stiffened. “Who’s asking? CIA? KGB?”

“What? No,” I said, “I’m... Hugh. I’m here to get ponified, Silver Tie told me to come up here.”

“Oh; why didn’t you say so?” Point gave a quick itch under his hat, and walked out to join me, shutting it behind him. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the facilities, show you to your room; and then introduce you to Thunder Slam, who’ll be training you after you change.”

“Speaking of, what’s with all the darkness around here?” I asked, gesturing at the darkened corridors.

“The darkness in the hearts of our minds?” Null asked, “Or the literal, lights-not-on darkness?”

“Uh, the last one. Literal.”

“Oh, good – that’s the easy one. Fact is, this Bureau’s pretty much done; it was built to handle a huge amount of traffic, and that’s what it did. But, it’s had its run; demand’s dried up in this county, most of it’s been mothballed, and it’s only still running as a courtesy to late deciders, like yourself.”

“I’m not a late-“

“Of course, you’re not a late decider. You just took your time about it,” the pony greased, “Here’s the room where you’ll be staying until we can get you done; shouldn’t take long, a day or two, tops.”

“Why the wait?” I asked, poking my head into the sparsely-furnished but comfortable room, “Is there a long line of waiting people behind the scenes?”

“Well, two reasons,” Null explained, “One, we gotta give you at least four hours to change your mind, or at least get a statement that you’re willing to jump the gun and get to it. And the signatures we need for that would probably take longer to acquire, since we’re so understaffed. Two, I haven’t got any live serum about; I have to wake some up. That’ll take longer, about a day.”

“Why isn’t it live?”

“Well, duh; nopony’s here, and... well, safety reasons. We do things on a case-by-case basis, it’s just the three of us who keep this place running, these days; me, Silver Tie, and Thunder Slam. Volunteer work, essentially.”

“That’s generous of you,” I remarked, “I don’t imagine life here’s that easy; a lot of haters out there.” Deep down, I suspected that the real reason was that some ponies just had trouble letting go.

“Oh, of course; every time I go out, I get called ‘queer’ and ‘faggot’. Can’t imagine why,” the purple-and-pink stallion rubbed his mane subconsciously, pushing open a doorway.

“Perhaps it’s your mane and coat?” I asked, as I followed him through the door to see yet more stairs – I loved this place. We were going down this time, though, so that was a plus.

“What? Nah – what’s gay about shades of grey?”

As Null led me to the next point of interest, I realized something – he was color blind. And strangely so; just purple and pink. I wondered if I should broach the issue, but decided against it; it was like asking people why they didn’t have a nose – pointless if they already knew, and embarrassing if they didn’t.

“Here is the floor where... ze magicks... happens. Har, always wanted to say it like that. Ever since that Photo Finish... ahh.”

I declined to comment, forming a frosty silence as Null realized how unfunny he’d just been.

“Anyway, this is the lab level. I’ll show you around more before the ponification. If you follow me back to the ground floor, I’ll show you the break room.”

“There’s not a lot to this place, is there? You use, what, three floors out of-“

“Thirteen, yes – I did say we didn’t get nearly as much traffic these days,” Null said, pointedly, “And just between you and me...” He leaned in closer, “I hear rumors that something called the Purification is coming. Not soon, and I have no idea what that is, but it sounds like we’ll probably put those rooms to use again before the end, that’s for sure.”

“How is that relevant?”

“It’s not! Gossip!” He pushed open the ground floor door again, and we were back in the atrium; Silver wasn’t asleep this time, busy eating corn chips and using the computer. He lifted a hoof in greeting.

“I see you found Null easy enough,” he remarked, not really looking away from the screen as he shoved another corn chip into his mouth with his magic, “How’s the tour going?”

“It’s fine... and are you using magic?”

“Oh yeah,” Tie replied, nodding. “It’s amazing, fyi.”

“To eat corn chips.”

“Beats having ‘cheeto fingers’, he remarked, waving his hooves about, “or ‘cheeto hooves’, if you’re an earth or Pegasus pony.”

“I don’t understand why he still likes those,” Null remarked, “When you become a pony, your sense of taste changes radically; hay becomes nice, meat tastes like scum, and, well, powdered cheese tastes pretty funky.”

“Opinions,” dismissed Silver, clacking away on the keyboard, “Thunder not in his room?”

“Don’t think so,” Point replied, “I couldn’t hear his fighting videos.”

Silver laughed. “Oh, man – he’d be so upset if you heard you call his wrestling DVDs that.”

“What’s the difference?” I asked, perplexed, “Wrestling IS fighting.”

“The difference is,” Silver said with a straight face, “that Thunder can suplex the ever-loving daylights out of you if you say anything like that to his face. Not kidding, you’d be surprised at how good he can wrestle, even as a pony. Probably better, even, humans can’t fly.”

“He sounds huge.”

“Hugh,” Null said, “He’s massive; you’ve seen the Princesses’ pictures, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s almost as tall as them, and easy twice as buff. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Protein shakes, Null,” Silver answered, “That and ruthless dedication to his practice. Speaking of, mind his practice,” he added, to me personally, “Accidents apparently happen. I’ve yet to see him get carried away and full nelson anypony by mistake, but...”

“Alright,” I declared, “I have to meet this... Thunder Slam for myself.”

======

They weren’t kidding. He was very yellow, and very huge. Even for a pony, he looked strong enough to pick me up with his hooves, and turn me into a bloody pretzel. Ponies normally averaged around shoulder-chest-height to a human male like me; Thunder was easy as tall as me.

“Hey, Slam,” Null greeted, “got a new potential pony in, say hi!”

“Yo, ‘sup?” The yellow Pegasus turned around to greet me; he had a bright yellow coat and black mane; the overall appearance of a lightning bolt.

“Uh, I’m gonna get ponified,” I replied, uneasy, “I hear... you like wrestling?”

It was the single lamest attempt at idle conversation I’d ever used, but it seemed to work. “Oh hell yeah,” Thunder Slam boasted, rearing up and thumping his chest with his hooves, “You ain’t lived until you’ve body-slammed somepony from the top buckle.”

“I’d disagree with that; you haven’t lived until you almost died,” I refuted.

“Well, that works too,” Thunder admitted, “but that’s a risky business.”

“Won’t deny that,” I agreed, rubbing my chest.

“This here’s Hugh, Thunder; he’s going to hang about until I can make up some more serum,” informed Null.

“Sweet, I’ll keep an eye out. Hugh – you get bored later, drop by at the front desk; I got nothing at all to do, and it just bores me.”

“Seriously? How long do you guys do those shifts for?”

“Oh, about twelve hours each,” Thunder said, sitting down and picking up a set of weights where he’d left them, “Give the other pony a chance to sleep or whatever.”

I looked at Null Point. “What about Null Point?”

“I’m a technician,” argued the pink scientist pony, “I can’t just sit on desk all day. Got, uh, tests to run and stuff.”

“He means he browses them conspiracy sites of his,” translated Slam, grunting slightly as he curled his... leg? Arm? Hoof?

“That’s not all I do!” Null protested.

Slam just snorted. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Aaanyway,” I said, intervening, “You said this was the break room?”

It was a medium-sized, white-lit, white-tiled room, with a few low tables, some chairs, counter-tops and various cheap-n-easy food preparation appliances. The counters were largely clear of debris, although there were clear stratums of mess – two of the four sections were pristine, but they were surrounded by the other two sections, one of which had old protein-product packets heaped up, and the other which had old packets of corn-chip snacks and cans of energy drink roughly arranged into two piles. The cupboards above were filled with more of the same.

“Yeah, this is the break room,” Null said, rubbing his chin. “Used to be one of the demo labs, the one we showed off to people, but when we downsized, we shut down the cafeteria, and got this repurposed to save us a walk.”

I tried to picture it and... yeah, there it was. Fluorescent tubes, and what appeared to be old gas lines in the walls. Could practically smell the grape in the air.

“Anyway. Feel free to raid the cupboards – I don’t think you need to be a scientist like myself to guess what it is that Slam and Tie eat, so don’t hit those piles too hard and they won’t have any beef with you.”

“What about you?” I asked Null. “Surely you eat.”

“Yeah, but I actually eat hay. Most humans don’t do that,” Null said, “I guessed that it went without saying.”

“Ah.” I had an idea. “Why do Silver Tie and Thunder Slam still eat these human foods? Didn’t you say your sense of taste change when you become a pony?”

“Yeah,” Null said, “But some things just refuse to change in some ponies. It happens, facets of our old lives carrying over. Like Thunder; his passion for wrestling has not changed one iota, I guarantee it.”

“You know it, Null,” chimed in Thunder, mouth working silently as he counted repetitions.

“Of course, I don’t wish to imply you will change drastically. I’m just talking about things that change for some ponies, and remain the same for others,” elaborated Null, “Taste is the most common one to change. Hay tastes like garbage for a human, but amazing for a pony – trust me, you can appreciate a fine bunch of hay in the same way that you could, say, a pizza.”

“...and Silver Tie still finds corn-chips and energy drink tasteful?” I concluded.

“Presumably. I mean, we can still eat corn-chips, and I was never really a fan of energy drinks when I was human, so I can’t really comment. It’s the meat-eaters you need to watch out for,” Null confided, “Usually they’re not bad ponies, per se, but meat-eating is kind of a big deal in Equestria. A bit taboo.”

“I noticed Silver still wears a suit, too.”

“Yeah,” Null rubbed his mane. “I got nothing on that front. Dunno what he did before he became a pony, but he sure as hell loves that suit. Won’t even step outside his room without it.”

======

“See, now watch this. He’s staggering, staggering, and... yeah! See that? Chair! Bang! To the face!”

“But... he pulled that from outside the arena! With his magic!” I protested. “That’s cheating!”

“Eeeh,” Thunder said, waving a hoof a little, “I tell ya. When wrestling got introduced to Equestria, it gained and lost a bit. It gained two whole new elements – flight and magic.” Thunder waggled his wings and nodded to them.

“But... don’t ponies normally abhor violence? Even if it is all staged?”

Thunder nodded. “Yeah, that’s something it lost. Blood, that jazz – nopony likes it. But they love a good show, cliffhangers, thrillers. Villains, heroes, the lot. Heels, faces, jobbers.”

“So... they all know it’s not real?”

“Part of the draw. It’s more like choreographed fights nowadays. Like going to the cinema, only the movies are one hundred percent action scenes.”

I shrugged, and nodded to Thunder. “So, why are you still here? You seem like the sort of pony who’d rather lead a more active life.”

“You noticed?” Thunder said brightly. “I was the physical rehabilitation go-to pony. You come out of that room, you’re weak as anything, can barely walk. I help you find your legs again, deal with the new logistics of life, and teach the pegasi how to get airborne.”

“How can you teach flight? There’s not that much room here.”

“I teach it how birds teach flight – the first time, or not at all.”

“You mean you-“

Thunder burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re easy. Of course not. I get everypony solid on the theory at least, before I push them off the top of buildings.”

“Oh. Nice to know you’re not completely mad.” I made a mental note to try to not be a pegasus. “So, when you’re not watching the desk, wrestling videos, or pumping iron, what do you do?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Thunder said, “I fly around town. Being the only pegasus here also means I handle the cross-town errands. Speaking of, you want anything special from your house or something, lemme know and I’ll fly it over here. Can’t take it with you to Equestria, mind you, but you don’t exactly have a bunch of bags with you right now, you might want some creature comforts.”

“Nah,” I said, “Don’t sweat it. Haven’t been home or anything for weeks, now. Place is probably disgusting.”

“Mmm.” Thunder nodded, sagely, as a pony in a leotard suplexed another pony. “I know that feeling.”

“What, being suplexed or giving one?”

“No, the not-going-home thing.” Thunder sighed, taking a sip of his protein drink. “Used to be a pro, you know. Got into it for the love of the sport, went all over the world. Sometimes, wouldn’t be home for weeks, sometimes months.

“Had a wife, every time I came home, she was there... until the one day she wasn’t. She’d walked out on me, middle of the day, gotten with another man, left me a note and her ring. Couldn’t blame her, but life just wasn’t the same without her, and she wouldn’t say why she did what she did. I don’t think she needed to, to be honest.”

“So... what happened?” I asked.

“What do you think, Hugh? I fell. Lost it all, couldn’t hold myself together. Got in a bad way with bad people, only just managed to clear my debt. But when I was done, I had nothing. So I came here; never looked back.”

======

“Two pair.”

I spread my hand of cards out on the desk for Silver Tie to look at, and he frowned.

“Son of a...” He pushed a stack of chips over to me, and smiled, shaking his head. “At least I get to play someone at poker. The other two can’t play, see, they can’t hold the cards.”

I was still sitting at the front desk, although this time I was helping Silver Tie pass the time.

“You sound like poker was a favorite pastime of yours, Silver,” I remarked, combining all the cards into a pile to be shuffled.

“Yeah, I always did like games of chance,” Silver remarked, looking at his hand with disinterest, “The longer the odds, the more likely I was to back it. Blackjack? Oh yeah. That game where you’re an explorer exploring some ancient ruins? Definitely.”

“You’re a bit of a puzzle,” I remarked, pushing a few dozen chips into the center of the desk. “I can’t quite guess what it was you did when you were human.”

“Ah, I figured you’d ask,” Silver said, smugly, “Want to see how weird each of us is, right? See what kind of pony you’d become?”

“Well... no, but that’s not a terrible idea. What determines your pony... phenotype?” I dug deep in my memories of high-school biology for that word, and was pleased when I found it.

“Oh, that’s just straight magic,” Silver remarked, “Or destiny. One or the other. You don’t choose, nor do we. Your body just picks one, like that,” he stated, banging a small stack of chips in the pot. “I mean, look at Thunder. You’d probably pick him to be an earth pony based on personality and attitude, and Null to be a unicorn, given his predilection for science.”

“And clearly, it’s wrong,” I concluded, pushing my whole stack of chips in.

“Yeah. Can’t pre-empt good old mother nature,” Silver said, chuckling as he shrugged and matched me on the river. “Of course, you’ve got a one-in-three chance of getting it spot-on, so it’s almost cheating.”

“Well, what about you? What kind of pony did you guess you’d be?” I asked, as I put my cards on the table, face-down.

“Me? I guessed unicorn, naturally. Figured I wasn’t a naturally fast or tough pony, so that left being a unicorn, seeing as I used my head all the time.” A sliding noise, and Silver put his cards on the table, too. “I used to be a sort of detective. A cold-case cracker.”

“A detective? I guess that explains why you know so much about the laws regarding Equestria and Earth.”

“Ah, any half-informed pony or human who works with the Conversion Bureaus knows a little about the laws.” Silver pulled cards out of the deck, and tossed them into each of our hands of cards. “My bag was tracking people down for whatever reason – they saw the murder, they committed the murder, they were the murdered, so on.”

“Is there... much call for man- sorry, pony-hunting in Equestria?”

“Not really,” Silver remarked, his glow of magic settling on his cards as my hand settled on mine, ready to reveal, “Equestrians are a polite lot, honest as the day is long when it comes  to crime. That is, there’s hardly any. And what crime there is, it’s usually not prosecuted officially. Shoplifting’s usually punished with a heartfelt apology and maybe a return favor.”

“Aw,” I grumbled, and caught the glance of Silver. “I mean, I always did want to be a detective, thought Equestria would be my chance.”

“Well, criminal detective would be a bit of a dead-end, yes, but ponies know ponies over there,” Silver remarked, “The few cases I did get before I signed up here were all really easy – once you’ve got a lead, it’s fairly hard to lose it.”

“Okay, so like a missing persons detective?”

“Yeah, that sort of thing. Missing fiancée, absent partner, the usual. Had someone you planned on chasing down?”

“Yeah, my friend, remember? A month ago?”

“Right, right.” Silver flipped his cards over, as did I. I had three kings, with a 10 and 9 off-card. He had four threes, and he chuckled as he took all the chips. “Well, seeing as I’m taking all your money, I guess I could at least help.”

Silver pushed back from the desk, and spun around to face the computer, where he rattled keys as he worked the computer faster than most humans I’d ever seen thanks to his magic. In a matter of seconds, he was done, pushing himself over to a printer, and grabbing a sheaf of two dozen sheets of paper, brought them over to me.

“Okay, for confidentiality reasons, can’t give you full files,” Silver said, waggling the paper slightly as he handed it over, “And I can’t give you documents pertaining to their human lives, because of silly laws. But we can do summaries. So descriptions and any superficial information we could get. Times of processing and such are all noted on the papers.”

“Sweet,” I said, “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to read it here,” Silver assured, nodding at the computer, “I can entertain myself.”

“Thanks, Silver.”

“Anything for a wanna-be detective.”

======

I sifted through the papers in my lodgings, the sparse desk covered in sheets of paper.

Sarah’s killer had been male, and ponifcation didn’t normally change gender – so that was a huge chunk of the ponies crossed out right then and there. The one who’d been ponified at the time I figured, around half eleven at night, had been crossed out – she was a mare, not a stallion. So unless Sarah’s killer had been a cross-dresser...

I frowned. Names, ages, mane colors, coat colors, horns, wings, all of it just... useless. The image of the killer as a human was burned into my head, but very little distinguishing features carried over, as I’d found out.

I got up, and walked over to the window, leaning on it and looking out. The city stretched to the left and right, my view forward obstructed by buildings. I had all these leads, but I was missing the piece of the puzzle that would allow me to thin the field.

I really was beginning to think like a detective. Would I still think this way after becoming a pony? Silver Tie didn’t seem to; he was still analytical, but his life’s work had basically been discarded in favor of playing desk jockey...

I probably could still think this way. Passions carried over – Thunder hadn’t lost his urge to theatrically pound things into the canvas, and Null... I hadn’t really talked to Null, yet. The strange pony spent all his time in his room, when he wasn’t eating or running errands.

I pushed myself away from the window, and decided I’d go talk to Null, if only to dance around the question I didn’t want to ask myself:

What would I do if I found Sarah’s killer?

=====

I rapped on Null’s door with the back of my knuckles.

“Come in, Hugh.”

“Huh?” I opened the door, to see Null sitting at a workbench in a lab coat. The room was largely in darkness, apart from a lamp on the workbench, which cast a pale half-light everywhere else in the room, revealing an untidy nest of a bed, and boxes of electronic things I couldn’t begin to identify. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Nopony else in the Bureau has knuckles, Hugh.”

“Oh.”

“Also, that camera behind you.”

I looked behind me, and spotted it; a small black dome which made a whirring noise periodically; in Null’s room, a small TV sat above the workbench, relaying the feed. I waved a hand and a small, fuzzy image of me copied the action.

“Bit overkill, isn’t it?”

“Overkill how?” Null asked, rubbing his mane and checking the time. “Serum’ll be ready in six hours, by the way.”

“Well, I mean, why have a camera?”

“You never know who’s knocking,” Null said, nodding, as he examined what was on the table in front of him. I moved closer, minding the fact that the floor was littered with small bits of wire and metal, to see a small, boxy object sitting in a vice.

“Pardon me, Null, but what the hell is that?”

“This?” Null nodded at the device. “It’s a wave disruptor module. I invented it.”

“You invent things?”

“Yeah, energy’s my field of expertise. Between that and my career in advanced engineering, I’ve produced some nice things. Auto-scribes, that kind of thing.” He took a screwdriver, and tightened a screw on the housing.

“So, why did you invent this wave disruptor module?”

“Oh, this thing? Made it for the army, it’s basically a stealth module, among other uses.”

“What does the Equestrian Millitary want with a stealth module?”

“No, not Equestria. America. They wanted it.” Null spat out the screwdriver, and grabbed a file, sanding off a rough edge. “I built them a prototype, and it was good. Problem was, the day before, Equestria appeared. Didn’t need it then, and it got stuck on the back-burner of funding approval, along with every other new tech-accessory.”

“Ouch,” I remarked. “Basically, they ignored it just because Equestria appeared?”

“Yeah. Stuff like magic isolation technologies got fast-tracked, while things that couldn’t really harm Equestrians got shunted to the side. I got sick of it, grabbed all my research data, and got the buck out of there, got ponified; one of the first in Langley to get it.”

“So... you’re working on it now, why?”

“So I can say I finished it. The prototype was awful. A bird’s nest of wires and exposed electronics, never intended to really be used.” Null put the file down. “This is a finished product. A little rough, and not as durable as I’d like, but it’ll work as intended, and it’s made of Equestrian materials, so it’ll work inside the barrier, even. Flip the switch, and it blocks wavelengths of energy in a certain area. Or, at least, it blocks them from escaping.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Actually,” Null said, flipping the switch, “You won’t.”

With a soft hum, Null began to fade from view, as did a large section of furniture – the overall effect was a big black, rippling sphere sitting on and in the stool.

“It’s not very stealthy,” I remarked. “I see a big wibbly-wobbly ball of stuff, now.”

Null reappeared, and nodded. “It needs a bit more work; the device itself is sound, it just needs to be programmed with the right wavelengths to block, diffract, and allow.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Block just keeps it in, diffract only lets it through if it comes from the outside, and allow doesn’t block that wavelength at all.” Null rubbed a chin. “Right now, it blocks everything, including light, sound, radiation and heat. But visible light should be diffracted, so you can just see through the field.”

He put the module back down, and got off the stool.

“It’s just a pet project of mine. Just like this one.”

Null flipped a switch, and another set of lights came to life, illuminating a cork board with pictures of ponies and lines running everywhere between pins, wads of data pinned to each photo.

“And what is that?” I asked, gesturing at the wealth of information.

“Well, I work in a Bureau, so I’ve decided to see if I find any correlation between what you are before the ponification, and what you look like afterwards. Everything from personal tastes, to deepest wishes and hair color.”

I looked through all the pictures, spotting a few names I’d seen on the documents in my own room. “Any luck?”

“Sort of. I mean, nationality tends to play quite a part; Africans usually become zebras, for example. Beyond that, a few job types tend to beget certain pony types – farmers usually become earth ponies, for example. But it’s not that consistent.”

“Hm... did I mention I was looking for a friend?”

“Silver said something about that, yeah. Can’t find him?”

“Yeah. Musta gotten the time wrong or something, and I can’t work out who he might have become.”

“Hmm. Well, feel free to peruse the board – no concrete human data, as per Equestrian-Human laws, but if it helps, go ahead.”

I got closer to the board, while Null began to pack away his tools. As I scanned it, the scrunching of metal reached my ears, and I looked around to see Null wearing the tinfoil-lined hat again.

“What is with the tinfoil?” I asked.

“Stop things reading my mind,” Null said, “I know far too much about things, and it could be disastrous if somepony or someone found out what was in my head. I’m far better protected than you think - the security you’ve seen is barely the tip of the iceberg.”

“You weren’t wearing it before.”

“That’s because this room’s roof is covered in tinfoil.” Null pointed upwards, and I looked up to see the jagged, uneven surface of a tinfoil-lined roof above me.

“Ah,” I said, getting the gist, “And what exactly would read your mind?”

“Satellites.”

“Oh come on,” I said, “You seriously mean that you think satellites can read our minds? You’re one of those people?”

“Think so?” Null asked. “I know so – I invented the damn things.”

======

I lay on the bench, as indicated by Null. Sideways, and completely naked save for the blanket over my middle and groin for modesty’s sake.

“Well, modesty’s a relative term,” Null chattered, picking up a flask of purple fluid and emptying it into a machine, “I mean, we ponies don’t usually wear clothes, and it’ll probably be the same for you.”

“Then why do we bother with the blanket, again?” I asked. “I mean, you know, I’m glad of it, but... nopony’s watching, right?”

“Apart from me, of course,” Null corrected as he worked with his tools, “And I usually enforce the blanket anyway. There’s things I want to look at, and no offense, but your genitals are not one of them.”

“That gives me so much self-esteem,” I replied, sarcastically.

“You asked the questions, not me,” defended Null, “Now, serum can be administered a number of ways. We don’t usually offer the choice, being so busy, but since you’re the only one today, I figure you can choose.”

“So, the choices, then?” I pressed, and Null nodded.

“Right. So, oral, needle, or, for Celestia’s sake, don’t make me do this,” Null begged as he walked around the table, “enema.”

“Did you say... enema?” I grimaced.

“Yes. We take a pipe and shove it in your butt, and you can take it like that.” Null frowned, nodding at a very distinct hose shape. “And if I sound less than enthusiastic about this, remember that I’m an Earth pony – my only precision limb is my mouth. Next to your anus.”

“Yeah, alright, thanks,” I said, cutting his tirade short a good two sentences too late. “What about oral?”

“Well, you drink it. Uh, that change takes a lot longer, and draws the process out. I’m also told the serum tastes god-awful, to be honest. I’d offer an opinion, but I’m a needle pony.”

I sighed. “I might as well go needle, then.”

“Fantastic,” Null said, “We’re done, then.”

“What?”

I looked down at my wrists, not seeing the needle, and looked at him. He nodded at my thighs, and I saw-

“You sly motherfucker.”

“I get that,” he remarked, as he pulled the now empty syringe out of my thigh. I hadn’t even noticed it go in. “Okay, I lied. There is no enema option. And oral’s a last-resort emergency as far as I’m concerned. Way too easy to bugger up dosage.”

I opened my mouth to call him something unpleasant, and stopped as a horrible cramp gripped every muscle in my body.

“Yeah, at this point, people can’t call me out on my devious tricks,” Null admitted. “It’s a perk.”

I twitched and strained; my heart beating overtime as a tingling sensation not unlike pins and needles swept through my body from the injection point. Where the wave of tingling passed, numbness remained, until I couldn’t feel a thing – I was a sack of pins and needles, even thinking was hard.

“You will be experiencing some loss of, well, faculty,” Null elaborated, “This is perfectly normal; well, not for anywhere else. But it is when I make the serum. Trust me, it might be a weapons-grade paralytic banned by Geneva Convention, but its still worlds better than feeling the changes you’re going through, and the recovery time is simply... bueno.”

Even in my debilitated state, I still had room for two thoughts. One, Null was a dick. Two... revenge. Always revenge; not on Null, on Sarah’s killer.

The pins and needles increased, and I grunted as I felt like my skin was being torn open everywhere; I looked at a handy wall-mirror (presumably for this very purpose) and watched as my skin slowly turned caramel brown as my coat came in; my skull tingled and creaked as it shifted, hair elongating in the same unkempt style that I’d had all my life. It remained a steady, darker shade of true brown.

Suddenly, my eyesight shifted – gaining a snout does that. It was quite disorientating, to say the least, having lived with no snout and a nose instead of a snout for close on twenty-four years.

I gave in to the chemicals bullying my consciousness, and passed out – another intended feature of ordinary ponification serum or a Null Point special addition, I had no idea. But the last thing I felt as I passed out was a rippling along my spine, and growths.

Mens Rea

The Conversion Bureau: The Coldest Dish

By Silvertie

Part 3 – Mens Rea

I came to on a bed, staring at the wall.

“Ugh,” I grunted, and rolled over. My center of gravity was all out, and I yelped as I accidentally rolled too far, and went right off the bed itself, to exclamations of alarm from two other people.

I got my face out of the carpet, and looked up; seeing a concerned Thunder Slam and Null Point leaning over me.

“You okay, there, Hugh?” Thunder asked, slowly.

“Ye-es,” I said, equally slowly, “Why are we talking so slow?”

“Oh, just checkin’.” Thunder said, a bit quicker. “Some newfoals can barely understand spoken words for some reason. Might be a side effect of the good doctor’s custom potion mix. Not permanent, though.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Null said, holding up a torch briefly, pointing it at my eyes. “Your eyesight should be fine. Better, even.”

“Can I get up, now?” I asked.

“Sure, if you’ve got the legs for it; which you do, I might add.”

I worked my body around so my hooves were under myself, and rapidly worked out the new logistics of standing on all fours – surprisingly easy, when you’ve got the body for it – and got my bearings.

I was in my bureau room, definitely. The furniture had been moved to the walls. Thunder and Null were here with me. A mirror had been set up on the wall, which I carefully moved towards, flanked by Thunder and Null and stumbling slightly, so I could look at myself.

In the mirror, a caramel-brown Pegasus stared back at me with aqua-blue eyes and a rich blue mane – a red streak shot through the dark blue strip of hair, to my surprise. When I saw it, my wings shot out a little in surprise, flapping slightly when I started paying more attention to them.

“Does this happen often?” I asked, as I carefully lifted a hoof and touched the stripe, ruffling my mane as I tried to stop my wings beating of their own volition.

“Streaks in your mane like that? Not often, actually,” Thunder said, “I could count all the cases I’ve seen on my hooves.”

“I am such a special snowflake,” I grunted.

“I think the streak is usually caused by some sort of underlying mental drive,” theorized Null, “Do you happen to really, really want something?”

“Uh, not really,” I lied, “Although... wait, don’t I have a butt-marking or something?”

“A cutie mark? Hmm...” Null became alarmed, and wandered around me quickly. “Uh, you... don’t seem to have one.”

“I don’t have one? Is that normal?”

“To be honest,” Thunder said, “Not really. Most newfoals have one, and regular foals mock other foals that don’t have cutie marks; that should give you an idea of where you are on the scale of things.”

“I believe the technical term is ‘Blank Flank’,” Null interjected, crossing off a checkbox on a clipboard. “Oh well – it just means you haven’t found your talent yet. A world of opportunity awaits you.”

“And not havin’ a butt-markin’ won’t stop me teaching you how to get about,” Thunder said, as I began to pace in circles cautiously, “Although you look like you’re making progress already.”

======

The next few hours were largely uneventful – mostly cases of me falling on my face as I learned the do’s and don’ts of walking with hooves, and the caveats thereof.

Doors were a big one; as a pegasus, I had to make do with using my face, or one hoof – not two, as that led to a face-full of carpet, door-handle, or both.

I also learned very quickly to keep your tail up when you take a dump – again; only precision limb: face; my ass, etc. Quite possible with my new physiology, but really, really gross.

The stories were quite right – hay did taste quite nice as a pony. Unlike Silver Tie, however, I could no longer abide corn-chips, which further reinforced my theories about why these guys were here for various reasons.

All told, my first day as a pony came and went with no real drama. Which was good, because I had enough drama for a whole week the next day, when I met Thunder on the roof.

“Okay, Hugh. Hugh,” Thunder muttered, “Given any thought to a more Equestrian name?”

“I’m working on it,” I said, “You said something about physiotherapy.”

“Right, that. You can walk and run, from what I hear.”

“Yeah.” I was betting Silver had told him about the running thing when I ran full-tilt into a wall for no apparent reason that not even I could discern.

“Well, today you fly.”

“Already? It’s only been a day! Didn’t the brochure say it took seven days or something for me to get all my faculties back?”

“Yeah, but that was written with all Conversion Bureaus in mind – we’ve got Null Point playing mad scientist here with the potion, so we can cheat a little. Any other Bureau, and you’d still be in bed, wracked with growing pains; or barely able to walk. Null’s found a way to program the basics into a newfoal, like instincts.”

“Alright, fine. So, flying.” I unfurled my wings and gave them a brisk flap, careful not to flap too hard, lest I fall over. Again.

“Yeah. It’s harder than it feels, but easier than it sounds, if that makes any sense. Now...”

Thunder launched into a quick, informal lecture about how Pegasus wings worked. As a Pegasus, I could now sit on and play with clouds, much like sand. When I flew, I had to adjust my wing trim like this to go up, and that to go down, and so on.

It went on for several hours, interspersed with brief demonstrations and practice-flaps, but by the end, I was sure I knew as much about flight as Thunder did.

“And now, the final exam,” Thunder announced, gesturing to the edge of the building, “you jump off, and try to fly. Nail it first time, and there’s a cash prize in it for you.”

“Seriously? How much?”

“I’d say... a hundred bits. That’s a good start for life in Equestria.”

“It’s not easy is it?”

“Nope. But you never know...” Thunder trailed off, and I looked over the edge of the building. No crash-padding adorned the pavement below.

“You really think I can do it?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t be telling you to do it if you couldn’t. You’ve been picking up on the theory faster than I can teach it, almost. Now all you have to do is put it all into practice. Don’t forget – just pretend you’re standing there, and practicing. Don’t panic.”

I nodded, and stepped completely up to the lip, looking down. The Bureau stretched out beneath my light brown hooves as if it was one of the sixty-story skyscrapers that surrounded us.

I swallowed – no time like the present, right? I leapt, and streaked downwards, learning another new life lesson – ponies are aerodynamic like rocks.

“WINGS!” Shouted Thunder, and I started; I’d already fallen two stories and my wings weren’t even out yet. I flexed my muscles, and caught the wind in my wings.

Nothing changed – of course, I was  still pointing downwards. I needed to pull up, so I trimmed my wings – and narrowly missed the wall as I corrected myself and trimmed the other way around.

My flight arc was deep – I’d dived for too long, and I was set to plow into the pavement at this rate. If I trimmed any harder, I’d just go into what Thunder called a flat-fall, or as I knew it, a stall. And landing like that would destroy my brand-new legs, at best, so I opted for the crash-landing option. As I fell, my heart began to beat harder and faster than it ever had before, pounding away like a jackhammer on steroids. The grey of pavement rapidly gave way to the dark black of asphalt, which drew closer alarmingly fast, and I braced for impact.

Which never came – I realized a gripping sensation around my torso, and looked behind me. Thunder was descending after me, and in the doorway of the bureau building, Silver was standing there, horn glowing intensely as he held me up – I realized that he’d been the one to catch me and stop me turning myself into newfoal paste on the pavement.

“Whoops,” I remarked, earning myself the understatement of the year award, and Thunder laughed.

“Oh, that was good,” he chuckled. “You came real close, probably the closest I’ve ever seen.”

“Wait, ever? That means you...”

“Yeah. Nopony ever makes flight their first time,” confessed Thunder, “But you came damn close. Usually we use a water-field thing that Null has, to slow you down to less lethal speeds before you hit the ground, but since it’s just you, Silver opted to catch you. He’s a good catch, isn’t he?”

I felt a little cheated, and Thunder noticed, clapping a hoof on my shoulder when Silver finally let me go.

“Ah, since you almost got it, I’ll almost give you all the money – fifty bits?”

“Yeah, okay,” I groused, then remembered my manners. “Thanks.”

“No worries. Now, how about we give that another shot?”

======

Another day passed, and I improved rapidly – by the time the carriage came to pick me up, I was already moving and flying almost as well as the three Bureau ponies.

“You’ve done well, Hugh,” Thunder nodded as I stood in the foyer, waiting for the carriage-puller to finish making his preparations for the trip. “Already walkin’ and flyin’ like a pro.”

“Thanks, Thunder.”

“Don’t be a stranger, now,” Silver egged, “Once you think you’re up to it, feel free to swing back here any time. Or if we’re gone, my place in Canterlot.”

“It’s been a pleasure knowing you,” agreed Null. “I hope those profiles I gave you prove to be of help. Equestrian paper, so don’t worry about the barrier dissolving them.”

“I’m sure they will. Best of luck with the stealth module thing.”

“Oh, that? Already finished,” Null dismissed, “Here. You can have it. I won’t need it.”

“You – I what?” I dropped the dossier folder and caught the boxy device with my forehooves as it was thrown.

“It stops things seeing you, but it won’t stop them hearing you, got it?”

“Why are you giving me this?”

Null pulled me aside, and his friendly smile faded briefly. “I’m not stupid. You’ve got the look of somepony who isn’t just looking up a friend. Thunder might buy it, but I see what you’re up to, and I’m sure Silver does as well. And I wish you luck.”

“Wouldn’t the responsible thing to do at this point be stopping me?”

“What would that achieve? You’ll just sit on it for the rest of your life; probably do something stupid in the end. Besides, if Silver isn’t stopping you, I see no reason to second-guess him.”

“What makes his opinion worth so much?”

We looked at the unicorn in question, who was coughing and hacking on something, which he spat out. It was a bit of corn-chip, and looking around surreptitiously, he picked it up, blew on it, and ate it again.

“He might be a bit of a goofball some times, but there’s a reason he’s this bureau’s head of Security.” Null got even closer. “I think that perhaps, you are the only one who can truly stop yourself – if it happens any other way, you’ll only get hurt. And until you do make the call, you need to stay safe.”

Null pushed the device into my chest, his message clear, and walked away with a wave of his hoof, entered the stairwell. At the same time, the front doors opened, and the Pegasus who was pulling the chariot came in.

“Right, all set. Where’s the passengers?”

“Right here.” I raised a hoof, and walked forward. The Pegasus looked at me.

“You it?”

“Yeah.”

He squinted. “You don’t look much like a newfoal.”

“I learned how to fly and stuff real fast.”

“I can attest to that,” Thunder grunted, “He’s out-flying me already.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“Because I don’t know the first thing about long-distance flight.”

“Fair enough. Alright, say your goodbyes, and let’s go. Where is everypony?”

“This is it,” Silver informed the puller, “We got downsized.”

“You guys too? Shoot, I thought it was just the west coast.” The Pegasus rubbed his mane. “Alright, let’s go.”

I waved to Thunder and Silver.

“See you guys around!”

“Sure, Hugh. Let us know when you think of your new name!” Silver replied, moving over to the counter. Thunder just saluted, and wandered off to the break room.

In no time at all, it was just me and the carriage-puller, who led me outside and opened the door for me.

“In you hop.”

I made my way in, careful to keep my wings by my sides, so I didn’t drop the folder of profiles that Null had given me, as well as the stealth module. I sat down, and the carriage began to move, taking me to my new home – Equestria.

======

The carriage flew through the air, pulled by one and with a passenger of one; I was glad of the quiet as I sifted through the profiles.

So many ponies. I had twelve ponies who could possibly be the killer. I shucked all the candidates that signed up prior to 9:30 – the time I got shot. That left five.

I could always do some door-to-door. Said they all lived in what amounted to the opposite corners of Equestria, but...

I sorted out the pictures, and stopped, looking at one.

The eyes. Eyes I’d never forget.  Eyes that saw me get shot.

Newfoal #4,682,234. Shale-grey coat, a brown mane, and green eyes. Piercing green eyes, the eyes of a killer.

I poked my head out of the window, and hailed the Pegasus pulling the carriage.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“We’re going to Manehattan,” the Pegasus shouted back over the wind, “It’s where all newfoals from your area start.”

“What about Canterlot?”

“You wanna go to Canterlot? What for?”

“I found out where my friend might be! I want to pay him a visit!”

“Sorry, no can do! Gotta go to Manehattan!”

I sat back down and sulked for a moment. Then poked my head back out the window.

“How far to Canterlot from here?”

“From here?” The Pegasus ruminated on the question. “I’d say a half-hour’s flight, why?”

That was all I needed. I grabbed my things in my mouth, and without wasting time, pushed the door open, jumping out, taking wing and flying up alongside the carriage-puller, who looked at me, eyes wide.

“Hey! You crazy newfoal! Get back in there!”

I shook my head, and pointed all around. The Pegasus sighed in a way that indicated that this wasn’t the first time a newfoal Pegasus had decided they wanted off early.

“Canterlot’s that way. Stay safe, brony.” The Pegasus pointed off towards a mountain in the distance – I nodded, and with a small salute, took wing towards the town.

======

Canterlot. Not a small town by any standards – it was the capital of Equestria, after all. Even humans knew of it and spoke of it in hushed whispers. Conspiracy theories abounded of links between the fabled King Arthur and the pony-populated city.

And now I had to find one pony with nothing but a mugshot to guide me. A task all but impossible for one person in a human city.

In Equestria, however, such a task simply became a case of legwork – Silver Tie had been right, everypony knew somepony who knew the pony you were after.

“Huh, I ain’t seen him,” said one, “But ask my friend, perhaps he has?”

“I can’t quite remember him...” mumbled another, “look this mare up, she’s got a talent for faces.”

“Hm, yes, I saw him in a magazine, I think,” posited a thoughtful pony, “Try... her, she’s got issue 19, I’m sure.”

“Issue 19? Oh, that’s Marble Shatter!” The librarian exclaimed, surprised. “I’m astonished you don’t know who he is.”

“Who is this Marble Shatter?” I asked, slightly irritated. As simple as this little quest had been, it was still me getting the run-around from no less than thirteen other ponies.

“Marble Shatter’s an earth-pony art prodigy, that’s what. He’s hit the art world by storm about a month ago, that newfoal. No previous history with sculpting, he says, but first thing he does, he produces this amazing statue in two days! Worth hundreds of thousands of bits!”

“Seriously? So he’s rich, then?”

“Actually, no,” the librarian said, holding up a hoof. “I can see why you’d think so, but here’s what makes Marble Shatter so unique – he improves with every sculpture, each one worth more than the last – and he destroys them almost as soon as they’re finished! With genuine witnesses and all!”

“No way.” My jaw dropped. Was I really chasing this sculpture-obsessed pony?

“Yeah, the witnesses claim they heard him mutter something about ‘not enough’. What it’s lacking, they can’t tell... He just keeps making better and better statues, nopony knows what he’s going to come up with next.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Oh, he lives here in Canterlot. I think he lives up on the terrace, he’s working out of one of Fancy Pants’ mansions; that stallion has an eye for talent, and he’s picked Shatter.”

“I don’t suppose I could ask for directions? I’m new in town, you see, and I wish to pay my friend a visit.”

“Likely story,” snorted the Librarian. “I doubt he knows you. Everypony always tries to grease up to Fancy’s protégés.”

“Oh, but he does. He got ponified a month ago, and I would have joined him if I hadn’t had a little accident and been in hospital since then.”

“Oh,” the librarian said, flushing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay. But where am I going, exactly?”

“Well,” the Librarian said, tapping the side of her head with a hoof, “I think the newspaper said he was going to throw a party tonight to celebrate his latest creation; it made the news because he says this is the first one he’s supposedly happy with.”

“So I just look for the party?”

“Yes. Good luck, sir, I hope your reunion goes well.”

I nodded and walked out of the library. Our reunion was something I’d been looking forward to for a long time.

======

I soared over the town, easily locating the house I was after – it was massive, after all, and in the dimming light, the brightest-lit; I could see fancy ponies wandering about, discussing things that were, in the long run, pointless.

Getting in there to “discuss” Shatter’s past, however, would be the real trick – for such a fancy party, there was some equally tight security. I guessed that when you threw parties for the social elite, the guest list was rigidly enforced.

And Null had anticipated this. I looked at the boxy device he’d given me, and wiped some droplets of water off it; it was starting to rain.  Well, right now it was starting to drizzle, but I could just... tell. It was going to rain, I would bet money on it. Chalk it up to being a pegasus.

That meant I had to move fast – I doubted the stealth field would look so good in the rain. I shoved the mugshots under a handy hedge; I’d come back for those if I was wrong about Shatter. I flew up, and, Null’s device in my mouth, toggled the switch with my tongue.

With a soft hum, it was as if everything was underwater – the landscape shifted and swirled like the surface of a bubble, and I saw that it was only just large enough for me to fly in without sticking my wings out or anything.

Of course, I couldn’t tell what I looked like from the outside, so this was, in a sense, the first ever field-test of Null’s device.

I flew towards the perimeter, eying the airborne pegasus security team uneasily; they didn’t have guns or other visible weapons, but I was quite sure they’d oblige me with hooves if I wasn’t as invisible as I hoped.

But my worrying was for naught. I passed by them with barely a whisper to signify my presence, and they kept looking straight ahead, uninterested in the spherical shimmer that had passed by not ten meters from them.

I looked at the mansion grounds in more detail; there was quite the garden, and I could see a few guests making their way back to the main building in light of the drizzle. Perfect, I could pretend to be one of them.

I touched down behind a handy tree, and after a quick check to make sure nopony was watching or nearby, disabled the stealth field. The rainbow shimmer faded from around me, and I sharply stepped behind the tree. I carefully put the device in the fork of the tree, nodding as it stayed where I put it – another thing to come back for, later.

I mingled with the crowd retreating from the rain, to disapproving looks from my cover – considering my lack of attire compared to their tuxedos and cummerbunds; I was probably under-dressed by a few orders of magnitude.

I made my way inside as the sounds of proper rain began to start behind me, squeezed past a clique of art critics who were drinking fancy champagne and eating strawberries, and ducked under the tray of a unicorn offering more of the same to others, to find my mark.

I didn’t even need the mugshot now; his face was burned into my memory. But still, I hesitated – he looked so... small. The shale-grey earth pony... I kind of expected him to be bigger. Badder. Less... weak-looking. He looked like Null could probably beat him senseless. Was this the pony that had a mind capable of murder?

No. No stopping now. I’ve come too far to stop now. I fixed a smile to my face, and walked up behind him, a façade of cheerfulness on my face and body.

“Hey, Marble Shatter! It’s been ages!”

One of his friends raised a laconic eyebrow at my rather damp and sweaty unorthodox presence. “Ah, Marble. A... friend of yours?”

Marble turned around, and looked at me, his own eyebrow raised. “I... I’m sorry. I don’t recall meeting you before. Are you sure you have the right pony?”

“Of course I do, buddy! We met a while back!” I got close, and gave him a soft jab to the shoulder, looking him in his eyes. The eyes. “Remember? About a month ago?”

He stiffened. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with somepony else. I only got ponified around then.”

“Come on, think back,” I urged. “Last month - we shot the breeze together, remember?” my voice dropped to a hard tone. “Right before I had my ‘accident’.”

Marble went pale, bringing his tone to roughly that of dirty chalk. Thunder punctuated my veiled accusation as it rolled outside. “Y- you...”

I grinned, a genuine grin of pleasure creasing my face as my hoof wound back. “I finally found you.”

CRACK

My hoof shook slightly with the force of the strike, and Marble reeled backwards, pushing aside the socialites he’d just been talking to, all of whom looked positively outraged at my actions.

“Young colt, what is the meaning of this?!” exclaimed a rather rotund mare, stamping a hoof gently in outrage as I shoved past her, closing the gap with the recovering Marble, who got up to his hooves unsteadily.

“I... how?” was all he got out, before I hit him again, sending him sideways into a piano which had been sitting in the center of the room, with a loud note of pain and a bang as the lid was dislodged from the rod propping it up, and fell closed.

“She was everything, Shatter! My everything!” I shouted as I spun, and bucked him into the air with my rear legs as he was getting up; the hit sent him clean over the piano, and he slid to a gentle halt on the marble tiles on the other side, to hushed exclamations from the socialite crowd, who’d begun to gather around to see the exchange. I walked out from around the piano and began to close the gap once more.

He got to his hooves again, eye blackening where I’d hit him, and a cut forming down the side of his face where my hoof-strike had split the skin.

“For... for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he gasped, wincing as he felt his chest and the forming bruise in the shape of my hooves.

“Sorry won’t bring her back to me, you bastard!” I responded, and with a leap, took wing; I plowed into the Earth pony with a spear-tackle, and picked him up, carrying him with me and using him to break the large glass window we were aiming for.

With a smash of expensive panoramic glass, I pushed him outside, and kept going; the elements themselves were a reflection of my anguish, rain beginning to fall in torrents, thunder splitting the sky as if the gods themselves were shouting approval. We shot across the garden, and kept going to a smaller building with an equally large window; unlike the main building, it was dark, not in use for the party.

I punched a hole in that window, too, using Marble as my glass-breaker. We tumbled inside, in a storm of glass and rain, my momentum no longer sufficient to keep two ponies in the air, and I rolled, getting to my hooves as Marble coughed and wheezed.

“Where’s the light-switch?” I demanded, water dripping from my mane and wings, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks, Shatter. I want to see your face.”

I didn’t wait or look for a response, finding a switch and throwing it. With a snap of energy, lights flickered to life throughout the room, illuminating a tastefully Spartan room with fine tiled flooring, lined with the broken marble statues and shattered works of art I’d heard so much about. Rain blew in through the broken window, forming a puddle of glass shards and water on the ground, Marble lying on the ground at the foot of a tall, velvet-draped object in the middle of the room, panting hard, blood trickling down his face.

“Please... forgive me...” he begged. “It was... I was wrong...”

“Don’t ask me for forgiveness,” I spat, approaching him for the final time. “You’ll find none. But you can ask Sarah for hers, if they’ll let you into the afterlife, you son of a bitch!”

I raised a hoof, and he recoiled, leaning on the velvet drape, and pulling it down. My eye flicked to the movement involuntarily, and froze on what it revealed, my hoof fixed in the air.

“Sarah,” I breathed, water dripping from my coat as I slowly turned my head to look at the statue, my hoof gently lowering onto the ground.

Towering above me, a statue twice as tall as I was; the drape slid off its shoulders, revealing the full form.

When we’d gone out for dinner earlier that fateful night, she’d apologized for showing up in sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt, even though I’d only gone to a similar level of trouble in wearing my leather jacket and my own jeans and sneakers; I’d said it was nothing, and that she could make anything look good.

It had been the truth – she made everything look good, and here she was; carved from marble, every detail captured in perfection. She looked radiant, her beauty carrying over from when she’d been alive to now. The statue’s hair billowing in an eternal breeze, eyes smiling as much as her mouth, which seemed to be on the verge of saying something... my mouth moved as I tried to work out the words she was saying.

I love you.

I choked, and Marble scooted back a little as I sunk to my knees, old wounds of grief opened anew.

“I know... I know saying sorry can’t bring her back,” Marble said quietly. “I would do whatever it took to make it right... but I can’t. I was a bad person.”

I tore my gaze from Sarah’s visage, and looked at the statues lining the walls. Marble noticed.

“I could never get it right. I swore I would do nothing else and take no money until I got it right. I had to become better, make it right.”

The statues... legs, trunks, all near-identical; some had different poses; in others, she was wearing different clothes.

“I couldn’t forget her face. She’s haunted my life, my dreams; the life I’ve taken has taken over mine. I’ve regretted it ever since...”

“...why?” I choked, looking back to the final statue, and then to the base, where the plinth that was its base supported the art, and a title picked out in stone.

Penance

“I had to make it right,” whispered Marble. “She showed me with just one look what I took from you, and I had to give it back the only way I knew how. The only way I could.”

I touched a hoof to the stone figure of my affections, and a tear fell from my eyes.

“It still wouldn’t be enough, I know,” Marble continued. “I never intended to do irreparable damage; things like purses can always be replaced, right? I just...” Marble sighed. “I was wrong, and cruel. I had to become a pony to see that. And now I’ve taken something that could never be replaced - the greatest crime of all.”

He stood up, walking over to a nearby wooden desk, and picking up a chisel, looked at me. “If you want to finish this, I won’t stop you. I believe I deserve it.”

The chisel skittered across the tiles as he kicked it towards me, chipping slivers of stone away as the blade clipped raises in the stone, and came to a rest next to my hoof, handle first. I looked at it, then at Marble.

“All I ask is that you forgive me. Not now, but... some time.” The regret in Marble’s voice was genuine; just like the care that had been put into Sarah’s visage.

“I... will never forgive you,” I stated, getting up, and picking up the chisel, my hoof sliding through the guard and gripping it. “I will never forget you.”

I crossed the room, and Marble began to tremble in fear as I stood before him – but true to his word, he remained still to face what he had coming to him. I raised the chisel.

“I have forgotten Sarah.”

The chisel carved an arc through the air, and it hit home with the cold chunk of hard steel hitting hard, organic material.

Judgment passed.

In Memoriam

The Conversion Bureau: The Coldest Dish

By Silvertie

Part 4 – In Memoriam

Marble opened his eyes, and looked at the razor-sharp chisel embedded in the desk next to him, quivering with the force of the strike, and then looked at me, eyes wide.

“You reminded me,” I continued. “I’ve forgotten her smile, her way of life. She lived and let live. And now, in death, I should honor her memory and do what she would want me to do.”

I stepped back, looking at Marble, who sank to his haunches with dumbfounded shock.

“I’m never going to forget what you did, Marble. And I don’t know if I could ever forgive you. But Sarah would; and so that’s what I’ll do.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, bowing his head.

“Don’t thank me,” I said, jerking a head at my beloved’s statue. “Thank her... she was the best thing that ever happened to me, you know.”

“...I know that now.”

 I nodded, and with one last look at the statue, slipped out the door into the rain before the tears started flowing, leaving one penitent sculptor in his studio, shaking as he cried tears of his own.

======

I left Marble Shatter’s mansion in the confusion that followed, slipping out over the wall completely undetected with Null’s help.

I sat on top of the clouds afterwards, watching the moon trace a slow path through the unobstructed night sky while the storm raged below me, and wondered what I’d do with my life from here onwards - I hadn’t planned this far ahead, hadn’t thought beyond the act of revenge.

I was a pegasus now, in Equestria, and I’d made the move for all the wrong reasons.

As the moon drifted below the horizon, and the sun began to rise, I had my decision - it was time to make a right reason.

======

Marble Shatter Released From Prison

The self-confessed murderer and famed prodigy sculptor Marble Shatter was released from prison today, two years after surrendering himself to local law enforcement and demanding to be arrested for the crime of murder following an assault on his person during a party at his residence in Canterlot Terrace.

He has been released early by order of Equestria Penitentiary’s Head Warden, Verdant Green, who had this to say: “We cannot keep Marble Shatter imprisoned any longer – he has made no progress in his rehabilitation, simply because he was genuinely remorseful from the very beginning – we sincerely doubt he is any threat to society, and would be surprised to see him back here again.”

The pony who assaulted Marble Shatter at the party remains unidentified to this day, despite claims from party guests that he seemed to know Marble Shatter regarding personal business. The victim, Marble Shatter, has never attempted to press charges.

I folded up the newspaper, and put my hooves back down off the counter and got up, checking the time as I smoothed out my red and white striped vest. Twelve o’clock sharp. I adjusted the sit of my hat, pulled a lever, and the shutters of my narrow workspace were lifted, revealing a wide opening in the side of my wagon, below which small foals clamored and cheered my emergence.

I have no name that matters to them; to them, I am “Mister Ice Cream”, purveyor of frozen and chilled weapons to do battle with against the onslaught of hot weather. I arrive as if by magic; none see me arrive or leave, and yet, I’m there one moment, and gone the next. I am a source of wonderment for all, not just the foals.

As with all magic tricks, there’s a secret – a little metal box on the underside of the counter. It still works; a true testament to Null Point’s profession. Last I heard, he was working on Equestria’s first ever space program, designing some sort of gate thing.

How does a pony like me have a talent for making ice cream? It’s a long story - but probably just as long as Marble Shatter’s.

It was always Sarah’s dream, you know - to make ice cream. We’d sit on the sidewalk outside our houses, watching the ice cream truck roll on by, cheerful tunes clinking out of its loudspeaker, a small horde of children pursuing it, and wonder what it would be like to be the one selling it. The one making it, taking payment in money sticky with whatever the children had touched last, and in their satisfaction as they enjoyed a cold treat on a hot day.

But such a dream was always a pipe-dream as humans – the world fell into darkness and despair as we grew older, and nobody had money for ice cream. And if they did, they’d never hand it over; you never trusted anyone handing anything out of trucks.

Equestria revived that dream of hers – it was a land of sunshine and innocence, surely in need of frosted treats. The skeptic that I was, I’d been unwilling to go along with it, and so we’d lingered in the city, watching our neighbors, friends and associates drift over to Equestria in torrents, then trickles.

Her death was, in a sense, my fault. I didn’t want to live her dream, and put her in a position to be killed.

I had vowed to remedy that; I used my winnings from my bet with Thunder to purchase the materials. I worked hard at creating ice cream, and before I knew it... my flank was adorned with a picture of ice cream in a cone, and my work became famous with the foals of my new neighborhood. How ironic that I should trade one chilled meal for another.

The purification came and went, not a year and a half after I finished my business with Marble, and I moved back out to my old neighborhood; the one I’d grown up in, once more in the splendor I remembered from my childhood; with the addition of the construction work going on just down the road, of course. Blue skies, white picket fences, green grass, hot pavement and cold ice cream.

Only now, I am the stallion behind the cart. I am the one who makes the ice cream and takes payment in grubby change and smiles – a just sentence for the crime of putting a halt on my beloved’s dreams.

It warms my heart, fills the space that Sarah’s death left behind.

I’m snapped out of my reverie by a cleared throat from a pale blue unicorn, and I bow slightly in apology. “Sorry, zoned out for a bit there. What can I get yo-“

“Oh, it’s you!” The unicorn said, cheerfully, small child in tow. “Remember me? The intern at the hospital? How’s the lung?”

“Oh. OH! Yeah, I remember you! It’s been a long time! And my lungs are fine... how’d you recognize me?”

“Oh, don’t ask,” he said, indicating his flank; a silhouette of a Polaroid photo adorned it. “I’m really good at recognizing faces, apparently; not medicine.”

“Speaking of, did you ever –“

“Nah, change of plans after all; found a nice girl, made the change, got hitched, had half-pint over here-“

“Dad!”

“-ha ha, just messing with you – and moved back here when I heard it was habitable again.”

“Good for you, man,” I replied, nodding.

“Anyway, the tyke wants some ice-cream, got any cookies and cream?”

“Sure,” I replied, fishing the requested treat out of one of the chilled compartments, and handing it to the colt, who eagerly accepted it. His father reached for his bits, but I held up a hoof.

“No, no – this is on the house. I owe you a favor, remember?”

“Oh, really? Say thank you to the nice stallion, son.”

“’anku!” the colt mumbled around a face and mouthful of ice-cream.

“Alright, go run off and see what Mum’s doing. I’m going to have a chat with the ice cream pony for a while.”

The colt nodded, and tore off at high speed. I nudged the ex-intern with another ice cream for him, and he took it.

“So, what name are you going by these days?” I asked.

He took a quick lick of the ice-cream and smiled. “Well, when I made the shift, I couldn’t decide for a while - But I settled on Picture Perfect. What did you choose?”

“Still haven’t chosen,” I admitted. “I got kind of caught up in some... personal business.”

“All this time, and you still haven’t picked?”

“It was very personal. Besides, nothing really springs to mind.”

“How about...” Picture looked at me, and tilted his head slightly. “How about just rolling with Ice Cream? It IS what you do, after all; and it’ll save the local fetlock-biters learning a new name.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, okay – from now on, I am Ice Cream, purveyor of frozen treats!”

“I like it,” Perfect stated, “It suits you and your mane.”

“Really? How?”

“Well,” Picture said, licking his lips free of ice cream, “Your mane is just like your ice-cream – it’s got that little something in it that sets it apart from all the others, but unlike your mane, I can’t put a hoof on it.”

“Oh, thanks. I do make it by hoof, perhaps that’s it.”

“Perhaps, indeed.”

As I mulled that compliment over, Picture Perfect straightened up, and scarfed back the last of his cone. “Now, I gotta go; my spawn has contrived to get ice-cream all over him, and my wife’s starting to look a bit irritated. I’ll catch you later, Ice; we gotta go out for a drink sometime.”

“Catch you later, Picture,” I waved to the unicorn as he cantered away to a waiting mare and his son, and looked at the sky. The day was pretty much over, so I began packing up the cart.

As I did, I turned over my new name in my head. Gone were the days of introducing myself as “The ice cream pony”, now I could just say, “I’m Ice Cream.” It would make an excellent tagline for my wagon, too. I don’t just make ice cream, I AM Ice Cream. I imagined myself slamming a hoof on the counter, and fireworks being deployed from the rear of the cart – one day, perhaps. Maybe if I ever started franchising.

As I warmed to the new name, and embraced my new identity, I felt a burden that I didn’t even know I was carrying slip off my shoulders.

Brandon Sykes finally dead. Shot in the chest two years and seven months ago, to the day. He just hadn’t realized it. With him died the love of his life, Sarah; both killed by a man who was not Marble Shatter.

Surviving him, a pegasus named Ice Cream – with coat of light brown and mane of dark blue and a streak of red, he could not possibly be Brandon Sykes.

I sighed, as I sat on the top of my wagon, and watched the sun set from a tall hill. Where the city had once been, a small town now sat; in the central park, even from here, I could see the statue of a human woman standing tall, marking the spot where Brandon had perished. Put there by Fancy Pants himself, on behalf of an anonymous sculptor. Humans might be gone, but at least in Penance, the best of humanity lived on.

I ran a hoof through my mane. Selling ice cream was all very well and good, but it was time to get out of town, take a holiday. I’d give everypony a week’s notice, then wing it somewhere.

Canterlot, probably – stop by at Marble’s, offer my congratulations on his release, and leave him with fond wishes for his career; maybe go catch one of Thunder’s matches at the ‘dome. Then swing by at Silver Tie’s place – he writes stories now, I hear. Perhaps he could listen to my story, spin a tale out of it.

I’m looking at the sunset, and for the first time in a long time... the pain in my chest is gone. It used to be a missing half-lung, and then it was half my heart. But now, I am whole again; no pain, left behind with the burden that was unseen, back where it fell off, never to be picked up again.

They say that when you become a pony, you change. Priorities, tastes. Hay becomes full of flavor, meat turns to ashes, and the coldest of dishes, revenge: a once-sweet dish becomes sour, acidic. Unlike my lemon-flavored ice cream, it’s a dish that few can truly stomach.

I passed that dish up, and deep in my soul, I can feel Sarah loving me for doing that - and at the end of the day?

It’s all I lived for, her love. Always was, always will be.