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.