The Conversion Bureau – Mirror Match

A story set in Blaze's Conversion Bureau universe, By Silvertie

Chapter 2 – Mishap Table

I was standing still on the sidewalk, in the dead of night. Which was odd – hadn't I been walking home? And why were my clothes so... baggy? I looked down, and saw a simple white boiler suit. Realization dawned on me. The white boiler suit I'd seen on disaster victims and homicidees in the past.

“Aw, fuck, I got re-lifed.”

A soft whoosh from overhead, and a gust of wind ruffled my hair as I watched a hover-truck fly off into the sky, a faded logo emblazoned on the side – SDC.

I patted my chest pocket, and sure enough, there was a folded piece of paper in there. I took it out, and read it in the light of the street lamp.

Death isn't the end

You and your new re-lifed existience

Commiserations on your recent untimely demise, dear reader, and congratulations on your continued existence!

This brochure is intended to help you get back to speed and overcome your recently vitally-challenged state.

You may possess a large sense of unease and disorientation. This is normal – SDC's patented Life Insurance is swift-acting, however some loss of time is inevitable. Depending on your respawn location, anywhere between three to five hours may have passed.

Your memories and experiences will be intact, as per our policies, so naturally, this loss in time will be disorientating.

You may possess a strong desire to retrieve your personal belongings and/or mortal remains from your place of expiration. This is not advisable, and it is for this reason that we do not record your location of actual death. We do encourage moving on, and if you are having trouble doing so, we have a series of consultants you can contact for professional help on page five.

With this resurrection, your Life Insurance has expired; we offer competitive rates if you wish to renew your premiums, however, repeated claims to your Life Insurance will result in monthly surcharges for twelve months following your last death.

For commonly asked legal questions, turn to page six.

We wish you the best in your new life,

SyntheDyne Corporation,

Insurance Division

I lowered the sheet of paper. I had died. Where the fuck was my corpse? Where were my – no. I shook my head. That was exactly the kind of thinking the brochure said not to do.

What could I do, then? I shivered as a gust of cold wind punched clean through my temporary clothing.

Home.

======

I stopped in my driveway. Never really used it for it's intended purpose, I didn't have a car. Sure, cars were going cheap, thanks to the surplus, but I was also no good at driving.

Beside the point, though. The lights were on in my house, and the door hung ajar.

I lived alone.

I cautiously made my way indoors. Was this where I'd met my demise? A botched home invasion? I pushed the door open, and it creaked softly. I moved my foot along the ground, and the cheap crocs I was wearing brushed against something metal; my house keys.

So I had come back after all. I spotted my miniatures case, discarded in the middle of the hallway, exactly where it didn't belong. Very unlike me.

I crept into the living room, a sunken lounge, and looked to the dining area – my laptop sat on the table, asleep.

So it wasn't a robbery which got me killed. Something else. I snapped my fingers, and the laptop responded, waking up and making a blip sound.

I investigated the computer. The chat program was running; it had disconnected when the laptop had gone to sleep, and reconnected when I woke it up just now. Someone had noticed.

<@Unibro> Hey, DoUK

<+DoUK> Hey Unibro. What's going on?

<@Unibro> You don't remember?

<+DoUK> Um, no. Sounds like I should, though. I just got re-lifed.

<@Unibro> Aw shit. You died after all.

<+DoUK>  Why do you know so much about me dying?

<@Unibro> You rocked on into here like a hurricane, wanting me to look up a Potion code. Turned out you got hit with the stuff, and... yeah. Timed out.

<+DoUK> Potion? I got ponified?

<@Unibro> Possibly. Super-dangerous stuff you got hit with, low survivability rate. Probably died, that's why you're here now asking me how you died.

<+DoUK> Thanks, Uni

<@Unibro> Just glad to know you're not permanently dead, DoUK. I gotta split, my shift's up, and Thunder's coming to switch places. See you in 9 hours when I get up.

<!> Unibro has disconnected! (Quit: <~Hatless_Wizzard> I'm outnumbered six-to-one by sheep, that shit isn't funny)

I shut the laptop off, and looked around. So, bad Potion had killed me. Or was killing me. Where would I go?

I turned around, and spotted a stray hoof in my kitchen. I walked over to the doorway, and reached in with a hand to turn on the lights.

Lying on the ground, surrounded by broken crockery and a few kitchen utensils, was a teal unicorn with a navy-blue mane; what remained of a shirt had been torn down the middle, and was more like a vest, now. I recognized it as the shirt I'd been wearing earlier that day. And the pants... thank the gods I'd been feeling classy and worn my slacks. Jeans probably would have cut circulation off dangerously hard.

No doubt about it. It was me. I knelt down, and removed my belongings from the pockets of the pony; cellphone, handkerchief, wallet. I sat back on my haunches. What did you do with your own corpse, exactly?

Brochure time.

In the event that you locate your own corpse in a safe environment, please call the following number to have the body disposed of legally.

We can virtually guarantee that the corpse will not be utilized in anything that does not result in complete immolation.

Huh. I yawned - it was late, and apparently, dying took it out of you. I resolved to phone the contact number in the morning, and set about the house, locking it up and shutting doors once more; all to dance around the elephant in the room.

My dead body in the kitchen. Well, you couldn't really tell it was mine, being a pony and all. I sighed. Respect for the dead, and all that – I should move it out of the road, at least.

I regarded the body with confusion. How did one move a dead pony? I placed my hand under the neck and side, and-

thump thump

-felt a pulse. I pulled my hands away quickly.

“Fffffff-” I wrung my hands in panic - the nightmare was coming true. I danced on the spot for a while, then took a deep breath and calmed down.

“Alright, so... I'm not dead after all. Just sleeping. Okay. This isn't the end of the world.” Stories of superfluous re-life clones flooded my mind – surplus clones got axed. I'd never paid the issue much heed, being the original me. But now... now I was the clone.

I snapped my fingers. But, there was no original me to counter any claims! Only pony-me, who had about as much chance of proving he was me, as much as I had any chance of claiming to be him!

Resolve building in my heart, I lifted my own unconscious body up, and carried him back into the lounge, resting the body on the couch with a huff. Then I looked at the pants. They had been loose, but now they looked uncomfortably tight. Didn't want other-me to start pony life with no hindquarters, after all.

I pulled the pants off, not wanting to think about the implications of self-interaction like this, and saw the mark.

Every pony had a talent – fact. And every talent came with a butt-picture called a “Cutie Mark”. Pony-me had a cutie mark of... two dice, one with six-side up, and the other with one-side up. Total of 7.

If only that were the case. Six years of rolling ivories, and not a lot of wins at any dice-based game to show for it. What other people called “average dice” was as within my statistical reach as rolling doubles.

Suddenly, I didn't want to sleep any more. I sat down in the armchair next to the couch, and turned on the TV – when in doubt, Adventure Time.

======

“Key-hand!”

“What?”  I mumbled, licking my mouth. I felt drier than sandpaper. “Adventure Time?”

The sounds of capers stopped, and I sat up awkwardly. The reason for this was revealed when I realized the big change.

“Holy shit, I'm a fucking horse. I'm not dead!”

“Tell me about it,” my voice echoed back. I paused. Usually, echoes repeated what you just said, not something different.

I turned my head to the right, to see someone who looked remarkably like myself wearing an amount of white I preferred not to wear, leaning over the arm of the armchair, and looking at me. I blinked twice, and he stayed there.

Nope. Not a hallucination. Which meant... I didn't even know. Other me was wearing a simple white boiler suit and looked worried.

“Uh... hi. Who are you?” I asked, pointing with one of my new hooves.

“I'm Duke Cooper. Who're you?” the man who looked just like me replied.

“That's funny, Duke,” I said, the name sounding odd as it fell out of my mouth, “I'm also Duke Cooper.”

The other me adopted a sucking expression, as if he'd swallowed a lemon. My “oh shit, I don't know how to fix your problem” face.

I thought of an idea. A question that only I could answer.

“I have never spent more than ten quid on a pack of cards.”

“That's bullshit,” other me interrupted, “What about that pack of Gold Arcane back in 2011? Seventy five US dollars.”

I nodded. “Damn, you are me, after all.”

“Of course I am. Life Insurance pays out fast, FYI.”

“I figured.” I sat back, and regarded human-me with interest. “God, this is weird.”

“It could be worse.”

“One of us could be female, right?”

“How the f-” other-me cut himself off, snapping his fingers as he joined two and two together in his head. “Yeah, okay. Get out of my head.”

“You get out of mine.”

We laughed. Apparently, we still thought the same, too. I sat up, and promptly fell off the couch with a loud WHUMP.

“Hahaha,” other-me said, leaning over, “Oh, man, that looked like it hurt.”

“Shut up and help me up, damnit.” I thrashed around for a few seconds, and gave up. “Too many legs. I can't stand... up!” I stuck a hoof out, and with some effort, other-me pulled me up.

======

I reached out a hand, and gripped pony-me's hoof, pulling... myself... up.

“Damnit,” I complained, “This is rapidly getting weird. We can't both be Duke Cooper.”

“You're right,” pony-me said, “I think I need a pony name, anyway. Help me think of one.”

“Boxcars?” I suggested.

“Nah,” other me waved a hoof dismissively. “How about Snake Eyes?”

“Snake? Snake! SNAAAA-”

“Yeah, alright, I get it,” the pony said, waving a hoof at me briefly before almost falling over and putting his hoof back down. “How about... Fortune?”

“Fortune sounds good,” I nodded. “It rolls off the tongue, and I don't think it's a girl's name.”

Pony me froze. “Yeah, now that you mention it... How about Dice Roller?”

“A tad contrived, isn't it?”

“You wanna do better?”

“...Dice is good. You are now Dice Roller.”

“Thank you,” the newly dubbed Dice stated, rubbing a hoof against his chest, then realizing what he was doing. “Hey, I'm getting better at balancing.”

“Yeah.” I yawned. “Time for bed, I think.”

Dice yawned too. “Yeah. I'm going to hit the hay.”

I turned everything off, and made my way down the hallway to my bedroom; Dice, getting the hang of walking awkwardly, followed suit. I stopped halfway down the hallway.

“Wait a minute. We only have one bed. Someone's gonna have to go couch.”

“You can,” Dice said, pushing past me, “Senority rules.”

“I'm as old as you are.”

Dice paused. “The hell you are, clone.”

“Oh, playing that card, are you?” I had a response already. “No pets.”

“Fuck you, I'm not a pet.”

“You're a horse the size of a large dog, Dice. Tell that to the landlady.”

“Alright.” Dice turned around and looked me in the eye. “How are we going to settle this? Like men? With dice? Trivial contest?”

======

I frowned, and pulled the sheets down off my face. “Budge over.”

Duke snorted derisively. “You know I can't sleep on the edge.”

At this point, I was well acquainted with what was presumably the main reason man didn't usually share bed with equine.

They're fucking cover-hogs, damnit. My hooves were getting cold.

“You're not on the edge,” I stated.

“I will be if I have to move over any further for your fat ass,” retorted Duke.

“My... my ass is not fat,” I retorted, then fell silent. “Stupid magic eight ball. Why did we ever buy that silly “Well Adjusted” magic eight ball?”

“I think I thought it'd be funny,” Duke guessed. “Not so much now that we're actually using it for a decision.”

I fumed silently for a moment. “Alright, fuck it. Tomorrow, we go find a second bed. Or a bigger one.”

“Agreed. Good night, Dice.”

“Good night, Duke.” I paused. “That sounds damn weird, you know that? Saying goodnight to myself.”

“Come on. I was just cloned today. I'm tired. Wanna sleep.”

“Fine.”

The room fell silent, and after some shifting, Duke fell asleep. I listened to him go, and eventually slipped away myself for the second time that evening.