After four days, I plopped down in Double Fluke’s comfy patient couch for our meeting, and was asked to regale him with what had happened during my first bout with community service, and living in Manehattan for the duration of that service. I’m fine with that, it’s giving me a chance to rest my aching legs.

“So most of the tasks I’m doing are really just simple basic things. Lifting, carrying, pulling, that kind of stuff. One thing I find weird is how many tools you guys have designed that you don’t really have the muscle structure for.”

“Many of them are actually adaptations of minotaur tools. In my journeys around the world, I’ve come to the conclusion that most ponies in charge are usually fairly poor innovators, but extremely keen to use effective designs without altering them.”

“But... if you’re going to adopt a tool made by bipeds, to be used by quadrupeds, wouldn’t you want to alter it more rather than less?”

“Shush you! Speaking logically in regards to the decisions of our glorious noble overlords.” Fluke grins at me.

“Seriously? Sure not all of you are stupid, but ponies make some pretty dumb decisions. On top of that, you treat higher-ups like they aren’t just in higher position, but like higher beings assuming most nobles get treated like the princesses do.”

“Well, it does help the princesses’ case that they can command forces that would otherwise require the concerted efforts of the entire unicorn race. As for the rest... it’s my professional opinion that ponies are still herd animals, just like minotaurs. Griffons are more solitary and family-oriented, but ponies usually seek to follow those who show themselves to be powerful. It helped us survive before the creation of fire, but I don’t think it’s particularly helpful anymore. I’m sure humanity has several such genetic throwback issues you cope with regularly.”

“Yeah, like the age of sexual consent is, like fourteen naturally, but since we’ve artificially extended our lifespans as a species, we’ve decided that it should be eightteen, fuck nature, we make our own laws! It... doesn’t go well sometimes.”

“Well, there you have it. We’re all mammals of some kind here. Anyways, more about your time doing community service.”

“Well, apparently your fancy magic doesn’t help when it comes to basic machinery like screws. Seriously, I can do more with ten digits...” I hold up my hands and wiggle my fingers. “Than most of you guys can do by using the mystical powers of the world around you. Why is that?”

“Most unicorns can only move one thing at a time with their telekinesis. It’s a very difficult and draining task to move more than one, unless a pony’s special talent specifically calls for it, like a juggler’s.”

“Wait... wouldn’t using telekinesis for juggling be cheating? It’s not really that great of a spectacle if you can’t drop the balls or pins or flaming chainsaws.”

“No, because getting them to arc right would be nearly impossible when juggling more than two objects, even with a talent for it. An old saying among unicorns, though it actually refers to illusion magic, is that ‘reality is much easier to manipulate than deception’.”

“Well yeah, but... eh forget it. Your magic is weird. It’s interesting, but it just doesn’t make much sense to me sometimes. I just can’t wait to get my powers back. I could do a lot more good with my talents.”

“Everyone who has had their abilities taken from will wish them back, with only a few exceptions. Anyways, back to describing your week. You seem to get distracted very easily, and it’s getting me distracted.”

“Maybe because my week was boring and there’s not much to talk about? Seriously. I could tell you about how I put some screws into a clock, then put some more screws into another clock, then used this awkward-for-any-quadruped pulley system to move tools for some new skyscraper that’s going up. I’m sure this is quite the thrilling tale.”

“Alright, and how did your interactions with the other workers go?”

I sighed, and told him the truth - not much interaction at all. Maybe it’s simply due to the difference in local population, but most of the ponies and such working in either place really didn’t care who or what I was, they just wanted to get their work done and leave. Not that different from humans, but still, I was just another guy on the workforce. “Besides, didn’t you say I should try to be more anonymous?”

“Yes, and that’s good. However, you should try to make some friends here, if you can. It’s alright not to, though.”

“So really there isn’t much happening. Though I was thinking about your suggestions. I don’t know where I’d find a gym or some place with an exercise room. You guys have a Gold’s Gym around here or something?”

“No, but there is a local gym I can get you enrolled in. I actually attend there myself.”

“So seeing as how I was given the most boring sentence in history and have nothing interesting to mention, do we just go check the gym out now?”

“Yes, that works for me. I assume you have nothing to share with me for now?”

“Well, I do end up getting the usual uninterpretable looks from ponies who just see me as they pass by. I’m not sure if most of them are shocked, want my autograph, or just think I’m a shaved Diamond Dog or something.”

“They’re more likely to think of a wussy minotaur. Seriously, they’re not much taller than you on average, and they’re usually about as wide, too. No fat, either, they have a terribly hard time gaining any.”

“Alright, enough chat, I’m getting bored. Let’s just head to this gym and see what they got for me to do.” Fluke doesn’t say another word until he’s out of his office, leading the way and motioning to the guards to follow. His only speech is to tell them where he and I are going.

Back down the stairs and down a few blocks as well, Fluke leads me and the guards into a not-very-nice-looking place, though that’s only a facade on the outside. Inside, a fairly normal, if dusty, gym stands in use with what is easily identifiable as a minotaur bench-pressing two separate sets of weights, one in each hand. On another exercise machine, a pair of griffons are cheering or egging on a third, who is currently doing push ups... with its wings. That just looks painful.

“So, I’m just going to try and build some muscle and attempt to pass myself off as a minotaur when I do my hero thing... I’ve only ever really done any of this stuff in high school, and I barely paid attention anyway. What do I actually need to do?”

I feel a sudden impact on my shoulder, and see a hand the size of my head clapped on said shoulder. I don’t quite tip over, but the owner of the hand speaks in a booming, heavy voice behind me. “It is perfect you have found your way here, for you sound as one who needs to learn the ways of strength, both inner and outer.”

“Eh... mainly outer. I’m not terribly hurting in the ‘inner power’ category.”

“I speak of finding one’s balance, for only when you can calm your tempest can you truly harness your full potential.”

“Whatever you say, Minoyagi. Let’s just get started.”

“My name is not Minoyagi, but if it helps you to call me that, you are permitted to do so. Now, allow me to instruct you in the art of using the equipment in this room!” the minotaur suddenly leaps from where he stood next to me, and collides with a seated rower, landing perfectly on it. I realize that this minotaur is easily a half-foot taller than me, and he could probably juggle me with his pecs if he put his mind to it.

“Alright then.” I get seated in another rowing machine next to his. “I’m going to assume this is basically the same idea as a stationary bike, but a boat?”

The minotaur demonstrates that yes, that is more or less it. “This trains the muscles of the chest, giving unto them more bulk, but also increasing flexibility.”

I begin mimicking his motions, feeling a strong pull of resistance at first. As I build a rhythm, though, the resistance seems to melt away, though it comes back if I slow down. This results in a constant need for consistent repetitive motion, which I find rather boring. But supposedly I’m making progress, so I keep at it.

“Alright, you’ve done one-hundred reps,” he boomed, just as my arms started to feel like they’re on fire. And not the ‘stellar-power’ kind of on fire. “A one-minute break, then on to the next machine! This light warm-up was to make sure you do not strain yourself while doing some real work.”

“Great. I can’t wait.” I say, not really trying to hide my sarcasm. I recall the jocks at school saying this is a way to make you feel super tough. Right now I feel slightly weakened and rather bored.

“That is the spirit! Now, for the next exercise, you will be doing crunches, and reciting the ancient poems inscribed on the wall you will be facing! It is an exercise of body and mind, and will help your energy flow.”

“I just have to wait a few hours or maybe a few days and my ‘energy’ will start ‘flowing’ on it’s own, thank you very much.” The minotaur gives me a look. “Seriously, I’m just here to build up some muscle. I’m plenty strong for what I need to do, I just need to beef up so I can cosplay as one of you guys so I can do my hero thing and stay out of the tabloids. That’s it.”

“Strength is found not in the arm, but in the heart and soul.”

“Except I don’t need that strength. I just need muscles. Heck, I’d get some inflatable biceps or something if I didn’t know that fighting in them would be really awkward and end up with my face in the dirt.”

The minotaur looks at me for several seconds, then snorts derisively and walks away.

I turn to Fluke. “And that’s a perfect example of ‘right lesson, wrong student’.” The unicorn rolls his eyes and walks past me, heading towards... a boxing ring?

“What, you wanna spar for a bit? Try and kick my ass so you can teach me a lesson? That doesn’t exactly work since I already know I’d lose.”

“No, I’m going to go practice some of my mixed-arts, since the point of coming here is to grow, not just gain muscles.” He gives me a meaningful look I don’t understand, and then hops into the ring. Another pony hops in from the other side.

I figure there’s not much else to do, so I decide to watch this. Seriously, I don’t need any strength in my ‘spirit’ or anything, I’ve got more than enough willpower as it is.

The two ponies square off, and nod to each other; I’m guessing it’s a variant of a bow. Then, Fluke stands up, and the two move. And I mean move; the two ponies are practically blurring, and I can hear things hitting each other. Every now and then, I see a flash of a spread wing from the other pony, and the occasional pulse of magic from Fluke, but I can’t actually see what the heck is going on.

Interesting. But I guess it’s not that impressive, when there’s practically no feasible limit to the usage of magic... except for dexterity.

I catch a glimpse of one of the two combatants falling backwards, then the scene goes still as the other pony is straddling Fluke with a wing pressed against the unicorn’s neck. They are both panting a bit.

“Not bad. Certainly interesting to watch, but I’m still not entirely impressed. Seriously, the point of me coming here was to beef up so I can disguise myself. Something that I honestly see no point in but you say I should for some reason.”

After the two ponies get to their hooves and bow, Fluke turns to me. “You seem to have a terrible memory. I said you should come to the gym in order to work on your emotional state. You said you wanted to bulk up to pass as a minotaur.”

“Fine then, how about you actually have me use a punching bag or something? Pushing and pulling doesn’t help relieve aggression, hitting things does.”

“A punching bag? I’ve never heard of one of those, though the name certainly seems encompassing. As for the motion, you’re supposed to try falling into a rhythm and meditate that way.” He pauses for a moment. “Or, you can try learning martial arts, though the beginning is learning patience.”

“A punching bag is a a large pouch of some kind filled with sand or whatever. You hang it from a ceiling and hit it until you don’t want to hit it anymore. Also, I’ve tried martial arts before. Taekwondo specifically. Meditation isn’t exactly my thing.”

“Well, you’re going to need to work on your aggression in a constructive way. It’ll make life more difficult for you in the long run not to. If you’re not going to actually benefit from the gym, we can try to find something else to fill your evenings.”

“Like what? Seriously, if the point is to have me not hit others, why not just give me something inanimate to hit instead? It’s worked fine for plenty of humans in the past. You want to be violent? Fine, be violent to something that doesn’t feel pain and get your anger out.”

“Well, we’ll need to get one of those made. Most minotaurs and griffons I know of do that sort of thing to concrete or wooden posts.”

“Yeah, the purpose of it being sand in a bag hanging from the ceiling is so that you can hit it and it’ll actually give without breaking. It can be used to simulate something that does feel pain. Just stick a picture of someone you hate on it, and punch it until you’re done. You just did the equivalent of physically pummeling someone you dislike, without hurting anyone at all.”

Fluke heaves a sigh. “Doesn’t really deal with the aggression, though. Still, if you think it will help, then I’ll see what I can do. For now, I suppose you should find something to do, though I guess your guards could simply escort you back to wherever you’re staying for now.”

“Yeah. Like I said with the minotaur. You have some good lessons and you’re saying the right things... just to the wrong person.” With that, I leave and wait for the guards to finish their little conversation outside before they take me to the little... well I wouldn’t call it a cell, there are no bars or anything, but once inside I’m not allowed to leave without permission and there’s nothing in the place but a bed.

I just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling for... I can’t tell. There’s a window obviously, but I’ve never been good at sun reading. Especially when supposedly there’s someone out there telling it when and how to move. Makes predictions hard.

The day ends, and I sigh, wishing this place made more sense. Maybe I just have the wrong point of view, but it’s not going to change. This is fucking High School all over again. Celestia’s still gonna be a bitch, and I’m still gonna be the kid no teacher likes to teach because they don’t have the right method, so they blame it on me. Next time I see Celestia, I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind. Not like I have anything to lose. Next Chapter: Chapter 117 Estimated time remaining: 18 Hours, 28 Minutes