Camerapony #3 was sleeping in her conjoined twin-size bed, under her black blanket which she chose for its colour’s maximal heat absorption. The walls were covered with wallpaper made with a black-and-white pattern of small triangles designed to induce headaches. There was a desk against the back wall along with the bed, on which was the eMachines® E19T6W HD-ready 19″ 1440x900 widescreen display with VGA analog input, because life is a widescreen wonder and your entertainment should be too. A couple bookcases and a wardrobe were the remaining features, but someday she planned to put some kind of flooring over the dirt she had at the moment.

Camerapony #3 rolled to her right, away from the wall.

“Camerapony #3?” transcriber #1 said softly from across the room, but too softly and she wasn’t heard. “That reminds me, I forgot to transcribe what she looks like.” Yes, she was so vain and desperate for some kind of glory that she actually put in a line of herself talking about her own transcription. Camerapony #3 was a cardinal earth mare with a jungle green mane, styled in a very generic way that was similar to Fluttershy, though her mane and tail had been gold before the accident in the factory.

“O Brownspear,” camerapony #3 said in a dining hall with one very long table, “I doþe believe þou shouldſt trade at ðe olde market to-daye.”

“Forsooþ! We art low onne breade et ðe meddisin for Johnald.”

“Kwite... doþe knoweþ of any travails fromme þine battels?”

“Verily. We haþ triumphed inne Ðe Olde Þornvil, a towne-shippe juſte Norþ of ðe olde border to ðe Kingdomme of Zhegavia.”

“Howe est ðe bidde for in-dependence bye Ligden?”

“Since ðe splitte of Zhegavakamia, ðe pugnation ovre custodye of Ligden haþ been fierce, and I doubt the victore shalt let it go easily.”

She woke up. “That was just starting to get good.” She also had a habit of talking to herself. After doing morning things in the bathroom, she opened the door to see a certain very beautiful transcriber sitting in front of her.

“Transcriber #1?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Following orders.”

“Okay, but why would they care about what I’m doing?”

“Beats me into a pile of mushed organs and shattered limbs, eats the meat of my remains, and sacrifices the rest to a deity that had its peak thousands of years ago.”

“Well, I’m seeing what assignments I have.”

“That’s a fancy name for checking your email.”

“Yeah. Hey, what does the ‘mail’ part of email mean anyway?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that this wallpaper—shit, thinking about it made me look at it again. It’s in here too... must resist....” She began drooling and developed a nosebleed, both of which were extreme compared to what typically happened.

Camerapony #3 went onto a site they may as well have just called Gmail because they’d have the same chance of having to pay something, and found that she had been given no orders for the following workweek. It was a good thing she loved pot noodles. Next Chapter: Chapter 23: Circumstances Prevent Sex Estimated time remaining: 17 Hours, 16 Minutes