Disclaimer: The depiction of the L.D.S. faith or any other religion in this story is in no way meant to be slanderous or hurtful. As a work of fiction, please take any references to any real religion, people, places, or cultures as just window dressing to make the world in this piece of fiction more vibrant and alive. Thank you.

Journal entry: July 13, 2084

Sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping this journal anymore. Is it for posterity? No, biological reproduction is no longer a possibility for me, and I have no offspring from before I went metal that I’m aware of. Hell, if it wasn’t for Equestria popping out of nowhere like a zit before prom; I might have been able to function indefinitely barring any unforeseen catastrophe. Wouldn’t that have been something? Imagine me, kicking little green alien asses on Mars. Thinking about the possibility that I could have had my braincase installed on some interstellar ship had the technology been available, really chaffs my metal hide. I guess I’ll have to settle for being the biggest fish in the bowl.

Well I just started my new job. I’m guarding a conversion bureau of all things. Can you believe it? Guarding those stupid freaks instead of filling them full of holes like they deserve. The very idea of ponies and how they’re going to be the inheritor to mankind’s genius make me sick. How they ever managed to become the dominate life form of their world I’ll never know. They are so helpless and weak. Though I don’t care much for fleshbags, at least they have some teeth. They don’t roll over and die if you glare at them hard enough like the glue sticks. Even the pony names are completely stupid, always simple nouns and verbs. Well to be fair, the name Tinman could be considered along the same naming scheme. If my bosses make me adopt one of their ridiculous pony names I think I’d go with Meatgrinder.

Oh, you’ll never believe this; apparently Phoenix is like the home town of the HLF leadership. When they heard that the local conversion bureau had managed to score a Land Behemoth for protection, their BBS’s went nuts. By the way, my handle on their forums is Big_Bad_Steel. Anyways, one of the fleshbags I winged yesterday was like the nephew or something of one of the HLF bigwigs. According to their boards, it’s humanities obligation to avenge this slight. All I can say is jackpot! Stupid fundie fleshbags, they’re almost as stupid as the ponies. At least ponies can’t say they chose the lifestyle, well not unless you count the ponified fleshbags. Now about this HLF bigwig, apparently this guy has a lot of clout. Perhaps if I prod them enough I can provoke a response. I’ll need to do more digging on the omninet about their leadership etc. If I play my cards right, I might actually be able to milk them for a bit of excitement.

Ugh, why didn’t I read the whole ad? I could have saved myself a whole lot of trouble. Well no point crying about it now. A job is a job after all, got to keep up some semblance of professionalism. One perk that I’m happy about is the expense account, it’s nearly unlimited! This place is going to be a fortress once I’m done. Well need to go. Jackson should be up soon.

Director Peachy Keen woke up after another night of fitful sleep. Normally his nightmares were about the HLF attacking his facility. But last night’s dream was about his newest employee Tinman. The Land Behemoth was the antithesis of everything that Equestria stood for. Having looked over his service record in detail, he saw that the machine cheerfully admitted to killing over a million people during his forty three years of continuous operation. Now granted according to the records, Tinman had used aerial support and bombardment (whatever that was) to kill the majority of the people listed. But still, there were so much blood on his metal hands. The director thanked Celestia that Equestria was beyond the reach of such a monster.

Peachy Keen almost wished he could break the contract, but discovered he couldn’t because of some human law. According to the law in question, Land Behemoths were classified as a restricted weapons platform. They were only available to governments, corporations, and other approved NGOs. NGOs or nongovernmental organizations were what the conversion bureaus were classified as. Although each conversion bureau was considered sovereign Equestrian territory, the bureaus themselves were classified as nongovernmental organizations because Princess Celestia had wanted to quell any fears that the conversion bureaus were a front for invasion. But because the Equestrian government technically hired all employees of every conversion bureau, Tinman’s contract was considered to be between the Equestrian government and himself, rather than the conversion bureau.

When Director Peachy Keen got off the phone with the law firm Equestria employed for legal matters, the law offices of Binder, Binder, and Binder. The human who answered, advised him that the contract with Tinman was airtight and only the head of his government, (i.e. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna) could actually terminate it. Additionally, any use of the Land Behemoth outside a thousand meter radius from the conversion bureau, outside of self-defense would constitute an act of war by Equestria on the NAU.

Peachy Keen turned off the holophone he had been using. “They said it would be an exciting adventure,” he grumbled to himself. “Meet new ponies they said. See the human world before it all disappears they said…”

Director Peachy Keen’s grumbling was interrupted by the soft knock of hooves against his wooden office door. “Come in,” he said.

The bureau receptionist Dewdrop opened the door, levitating behind her was a large pot of coffee. “Peachy Keen,” she said, “I thought you could use some coffee.”

The director’s worried eyes brightened when the aroma of the freshly ground coffee entered his nostrils. “Oh thank you, Dewdrop,” he said in gratitude. “I’ve been up all night worrying over our newest employee.”

“Oh do you mean Tinman?” Dewdrop asked. “He seems like he’s a very nice pony, er person, er whatever he is. No pony in their right mind would dare attack the bureau now.”

“That’s exactly it!” Peachy Keen exclaimed. “While I’m grateful for the protection his presence offers us, I think the very idea of what he is will be bad for our image. Humans are becoming ponies to get away from what he represents.”

“Director what do you mean?” Dewdrop asked in curiosity.

“If you read the service record he sent to me you’d see he’s been directly responsible for and I quote, ‘one million, two hundred sixty three thousand, four hundred and thirty seven confirmed kills’,” Peachy Keen read from the data file on his desk. “Additionally, Land Behemoth model number X003456. designation Tinman, has successfully completed seven thousand eight hundred and six combat missions conducted over an operational period of over three hundred and twelve thousand, two hundred and fifty eight hours.”

“Is that a long time?” Dewdrop asked, trying to understand what all those numbers actually meant.

“Essentially what it means,” the director said, “is that Tinman has been killing humans for over forty years and has nearly killed the equivalent of the population of almost two Canterlots.”

Dewdrops eyes widened when the director broke down the numbers into terms she could comprehend. “But he doesn’t seem like a bad pony,” she objected. “He even saved your life yesterday.”

“It’s only because of the contract we have with him,” Peachy Keen explained. “If the HLF had hired him to destroy the conversion bureau, he would have gladly done it instead.”

“I have a difficult time believing that,” Dewdrop replied. “Don’t soldiers only kill other soldiers?”

“The kind of soldier Tinman is, does whatever his employer says he should do,” Peachy Keen said. “He even helped destroy his own religious sect when his employers asked him to.”

When Dewdrop heard the director say that Tinman betrayed his own religion, she had a hard time believing it. Although she didn’t quite understand the devotion that the humans she’d met had with their various deities. She felt it was something akin to the how she felt about the princesses. Almost every human she had known that had claimed they were devout, seemed devoted to their religious practices. Almost fanatically so, but being a nice pony she never felt it was her place to judge them for their cultural differences. So when she heard the accusation that Tinman not only fought against his own religion, but in fact had been instrumental in its destruction, she felt that the director was somehow mistaken.

“That just doesn’t seem like something anypony would willingly do,” Dewdrop protested. “That would be like one of us killing one of the princesses.”

“Humans aren’t ponies Dewdrop,” Peachy Keen replied. “And Tinman isn’t even that, I’d say he’s only barely human if even that.”

“So which one did Tinman destroy?” Dewdrop asked.

“Hmm I’m not sure,” Peachy Keen said, while scanning the data file for more details. “Tinman’s file shows an acronym L.D.S. as his religious orientation.”

I’ve never met any humans that were that,” Dewdrop replied.

“Well his file indicates that the event happened almost thirty-one years ago,” the director said. “In someplace called Utah.”

“Hey I think I’ve seen that on one of the older maps,” Dewdrop said. “I think its north of here.”

“Well that doesn’t really matter,” Peachy Keen said. “What does matter is that we’ve got a monster as bad as or even worse than Nightmare Moon sleeping on our doorstep.”

“Well director, what can we do?” Dewdrop asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” he replied. “But I want everypony to keep their contact with Tinman to a bare minimum.”

“Okay director,” Dewdrop said, “I’ll make sure nopony talks to him anymore than necessary.”

“Oh good,” Peachy Keen said, “that takes a load off my mind.”

“What about Jackson his mechanic,” she said.

“I think Jackson will be fine,” the director replied. “He’s still human and can convert, so there’s hope for him.”

Dewdrop thought about how lonely Tinman would be without anypony to talk to, and started to feel a bit sad. Walking towards the door to leave, she turned back towards her boss. “Peachy Keen,” she said, “I’ll make a general announcement during breakfast about how everypony should keep their distance from Tinman.”

“Good,” he said. “Also, when you have the chance Dewdrop, see if you can’t help me find the forms for royal correspondence.”

Dewdrop silently nodded and exited the office to head back to her receptionist’s desk. She was going about sorting some forms when she saw an excited looking Sugar Pie carrying a basket filled with delicious smelling strawberry muffins. “Where are you going Sugar Pie?” she asked.

Sugar Pie’s ears twitched excitedly. “Oh,” she said, wearing a large smile, “I’m taking them out to Tinman. He’s so large that he can’t join anypony in the cafeteria, and I think he must be so lonely being all by himself.”

“Don’t you know he can’t eat?” Dewdrop asked.

“Of course I do silly,” Sugar Pie said. “But I bet he misses being able to share breakfast with other ponies. I know I would get lonely never being able to share breakfast with anypony.”

“The director has asked that we limit our contact with Tinman,” Dewdrop said.

“Why,” Sugar Pie asked in confusion.

“Because Tinman has done some very bad things,” Dewdrop said, “he’s not a good pony.”

“But that’s not fair!” Sugar Pie shouted. “Everypony, no matter what they’ve done deserves a second chance. That’s what the conversion bureau is all about.”

Dewdrop sighed; Sugar Pie would have a difficult time accepting the director’s reasons for avoiding contact with Tinman. “Yes,” she said, “both ponies and people deserve second chances. But Tinman isn’t a pony or a person. He can never convert.”

When Sugar Pie heard that Tinman was destined to never be forgiven for whatever bad things he had done, she burst into tears. “But that’s so sad!” she cried. “So just because he can’t ever become a pony I can’t be his friend?”

“Yes,” Dewdrop said, “the director feels he’s an affront to everything that the conversion bureaus and Equestria stand for.”

“Can I at least give him a muffin?” Sugar Pie pleaded, as she wiped away the tears from her muzzle with her foreleg.

“Okay Sugar Pie,” Dewdrop agreed, “but just this once.”

Sugar Pie picked up the basket in her mouth and flew out of the bureau. When she exited the building she looked up in wonder at the amazing machine. To her, Tinman was a marvel. To think that humans could build machines and even become them filled her with a sense of wonder. She wondered if ponies would ever achieve such things. She looked up at all the colorful cutie marks he wore on his metal skin. Studying the colorful dragon on his left shoulder, she wondered what the strange writing next to it meant.

“Good morning Tinman,” Sugar Pie cheerfully said. “It’s breakfast time.

Tinman’s targeting scanners painted Sugar Pie with a red dot. “Sugar Pie was it,” Tinman said through his speakers, “I’m sorry you wasted your time, in bringing me breakfast.”

“But it’s no waste,” Sugar Pie said.

“But I can’t eat,” Tinman explained. “I require neither sustenance nor rest.”

“Oh, I know that silly,” Sugar Pie said with a sing song voice. “But having breakfast with somepony always makes the day go better. Don’t you think so Tinman?”

When he heard Sugar Pie’s question, Tinman thought about saying something sarcastic from his vast depository of snarky humor, but stopped as he seriously considered what it meant to share a meal with another. The discussion he had had with Lao Chi earlier that week had made him seriously reconsider his life and the choices he’d made. After exactly six point seven seconds the cyborg realized that he was getting all misty eyed over a stupid pony. “No I don’t,” he brusquely said. “Sharing a meal with anyone for any reason is a frivolous waste of both our time.”

“Oh Tinman,” Sugar Pie said, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Because I don’t think sharing breakfast with you is a waste of my time.”

“Very well,” Tinman said. “Once you’ve finished eating, please advise Dewdrop that I’ll be performing some maintenance on the building’s main systems.”

“Okay,” Sugar Pie happily said, placing a muffin down on his shoulder.

“What’s this for?” Tinman asked in curiosity.

“It’s your breakfast silly,” Sugar Pie said. “Even though you can’t enjoy eating one any more, I thought that maybe just looking at it might help remind you of what eating one might have been like.”

The sentiment of the pink pegasus left Tinman feeling confused. It was such a silly idea, but it was the thought that counted. He released one of his steel claws and picked up the muffin and examined it with his sensors. His sensor array was among the most advanced of any conceived by modern military technology. The array was manufactured by CST, a corporation of the E.U. It was a multi-spectrum array and capable of omnidirectional scanning with an effective range of about 5km. At his disposal were over thirteen different kinds of vision, including infrared, ultraviolet, and the EM spectrum. The array was capable of detecting all known biological and chemical compounds known to science, and had the ability to listen to all frequencies between 1Hz and 150,000Hz. Essentially if something existed, Tinman could learn all there was to know about its physical properties. Yet for all his sensors vast and impressive capabilities, something as simple as smelling the aroma and savoring the sweet flavor of a fresh baked strawberry muffin was beyond him.

Tinman fell silent as he held the muffin in his claw, seeing how Sugar Pie obviously enjoyed eating the baked goods sent feelings of anger and resentment coursing through him. “Stupid ponies,” he bitterly thought, “all they can do is stuff their faces with food.”

Sugar Pie looked up from her now empty basket and grinned at Tinman. “Thanks for letting me eat breakfast with you,” she said, with her ears laid back as she looked awkwardly down at her hooves.

Sensing something was bothering the pink pony, Tinman activated his speakers. “Sugar Pie,” he said, “my sensors detect that your dopamine levels have dropped nearly twenty-seven percent. Is something bothering you?”

“Well…” she said, “I’m just sorry that we can’t do these breakfasts anymore.”

“Thank God,” Tinman thought to himself.

“Is it because I somehow offended you?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing like that,” Sugar Pie replied. “It’s just that the director feels it’s best if ponies don’t interact with you anymore than is necessary.”

“Did he mention a specific reason why?” Tinman asked in curiosity.

“Not really,” Sugar Pie said. “Dewdrop told me it’s because he thinks you’re a bad pony. But I don’t think you are.”

“The director’s right,” Tinman said, “I’m a bad man, and I’ve done some very wicked things.”

“Well today's a new day,” Sugar Pie said, before as she flew away, “if you choose to, you can start being a good pony.”

Once the pink pegasus had left, Tinman thought about throwing the muffin as far as he could with his claw but stopped before he could release it. Looking down at the baked good made him felt something he had nearly forgotten. “Hmm,” he thought, as he placed the muffin on top of a nearby electrical pole so he could see it, without anyone knowing about it.

Deciding to get to work, Tinman began accessing Phoenix’s local network and electrical grid. To his surprise he found the city’s infrastructure in relatively good condition. “This should serve my purposes,” he thought gleefully to himself.

Tapping into network, Tinman began the process of rerouting himself through several layers of encryption and through millions of proxy servers. Surfing on the Omninet, he began the process of data mining for his little side project involving the local chapter of the HLF.

Logging into their local chat room with the pseudonym Big_Bad_Steel he had created using a falsified I.D., Tinman happened upon a heated argument about the Phoenix conversion bureau and the possible future of the HLF.

Admin: User: Big_Bad_Steel, welcome to the resistance. The Human Liberation Front reminds you that this chat room is for humans only. Ponies and their human sympathizers are not welcome. Please keep all discussions civil.

Bigtumtum: Fuck, how the hell are we supposed to do anything now with that machine guarding the place?

Cardinal_Richelieu: Bigtumtum watch your language please. Perhaps it’s a sign from God that we should move operations to Texas. I hear the Austin chapter is having a lot of luck against the bureaus there.

Mamabear: No way that abomination took my son’s finger.

!luvp0n!3$: Ha ha! Serves him right, next time I hope the machine clears all of you bastards out of the state for good.

Admin: User: !luvp0n!3$, has been banned for the following infraction: Trolling.

Bigtumtum: Man I hate those pony sympathizers! I wish we could do more than ban them.

Cardinal_Richelieu: It is written, whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.

Mamabear: I demand some Old Testament wrath, an eye for an eye!

Bigtumtum: What could we possibly do against whatever that thing is?

Big_Bad_Steel: Oh you mean a Mark V Land Behemoth? They are easy enough to deal with if you know their tricks.

Mamabear: What do you mean? Those things have the combined firepower of an army.

Big_Bad_Steel: True, there’s no way you could attack it head on and expect to survive, but you should really check out their operating parameters. Now there’s some interesting reading if you’re interested.

Admin: User: Big_Bad_Steel has submitted data file: LTitanmkV.doc 37.4mb, always scan files for viruses downloaded from unknown sources.

Bigtumtum: Holy sheet! Where did you get this?

Big_Bad_Steel: I was a member of a Land Behemoth operations crew until last week when I got fired.

Mamabear: Aw, I’m sorry to hear that sugar :(.

Big_Bad_Steel: Well it’s okay, I’m sure I’ll find work elsewhere, but I blame the conversion bureaus for losing my job. So I when I heard your plight I decided to send you some info.

Cardinal_Richelieu: How accurate are these specifications?

Big_Bad_Steel: It really depends on the Land Behemoth in question, but pretty much all Land Behemoths follow the same protocols for combat (i.e. can only use specific types of ammunition, or can only fight in designated areas). Find out its limitations and you’ll have a fighting chance.

Cardinal_Richelieu: Praise the Lord, brother!

Big_Bad_Steel: Just doing my part to help humanity :). I look forward to hearing how you fare against those pony bastards!

Cardinal_Richelieu: Big_Bad_Steel, watch your language please. Can the pilot inside be hacked?

Big_Bad_Steel: No, the brain cases inside them can only interface with specially designed devices that are physically attached to their frames to prevent that sort of thing. Uh oh, looks like I need to go. Good luck if you decide to attack it.

Admin: User: Big_Bad_Steel has logged out.

After severing his connections from the network Tinman resumed his data mining, and was pleased with what he found. Within minutes of the intel he’d released becoming public; the HLF’s BBS’s were going crazy with discussion threads about the information.

Tinman laughed to himself, religious zealots and fanatics were so easy to bait. Operation Tiger’s Tail was now a go. Much like operations Black Stone in Mecca back in '72 and Sword of Laban in Salt Lake City in '51, he planned to exploit their fervor to his advantage.

With the poison pill he had provided now roaming free in the wild, Tinman was sure he would have plenty of entertainment in the weeks to come.

Jackson felt the warm breath of his wife near his face; groggily he leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips were soft and pliant but the soft hair on her face tickled him. “Wait, his wife didn’t have facial hair!” he thought. When he opened his sleepy eyes, he saw that he was face to muzzle with a pink pegasus mare whose face had turned as red as a tomato.

“Oh wow!” the pegasus giggled. “You’re a great kisser.”

“Ahh!” Jackson yelped in surprise. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Oh,” the pegasus said, “Director Peachy Keen wanted to make sure you got up before the cafeteria ran out of food. By the way you can call me Sugar Pie.”

“Thank you Sugar Pie,” Jackson said. “I’m sorry about kissing you like that; I thought you were my wife.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Sugar Pie cheerfully said. “I won’t tell her you’ve been fooling around behind her back.”

Jackson’s face turned red, as he glared at the pegasus. “Next time you need to alert me just have the building’s A.I. send me an alert,” he said. “I’m wired to wake up on a moment’s notice.”

“We tried that,” Sugar Pie said, “but that big old meanie Winston said he refuses to negotiate with terrorists, whatever those are.”

Jackson groaned inwardly, this job was going to be the end of him he knew it. Between making out with ponies and belligerent A.I.’s refusing to cooperate he had his work cut out for him. And that was nothing compared to the headache of putting up with Tinman’s theatrics.

Sugar Pie looked up at the human curiously, he didn’t seem to be listening to a word she was saying. She tried waving her hooves in front of his face and even poking him, but nothing worked. Deciding that this called for drastic measures, she planted a big wet kiss on his lips. Jackson responded just like she had hoped. She was glad it’d worked, if it hadn’t she didn’t want to even think about what else she would’ve had to do next to get his attention.

When he felt the pony kiss him once again he couldn’t believe it. “Hey!” he said. “I’m a married man.”

“Sorry,” Sugar Pie giggled, “but you weren’t responding to anything I did.”

“Okay I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Jackson said, while he headed towards the showers.

“Alright,” Sugar Pie said. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Tinman while I wait for you?”

“Sure thing,” Jackson said from the other side of the door as he turned on the shower.

“Is Tinman a bad pony?” she asked.

Jackson thought about the question that Sugar Pie had just asked him. He mulled it over in his mind for a minute before responding. “Well…” he said, shampooing his hair, “labels like good and bad can’t be easily applied to people like Tinman. Is he a good soldier? Yes he is, one of the best I’ve ever seen. Does he go out of his way to be cruel to people for pleasure? No, he’s not a psychopath.”

“It seems like your friend is a rather complicated fellow,” Sugar Pie said.

“Yes,” Jackson said. “Complicated is probably a very good word to describe him.”

“Do you know why Director Peachy Keen wouldn’t want anypony to talk with him?” she asked.

“The director is probably worried that ponies near Tinman might aggravate any HLF aggression in the area,” Jackson said before shutting off the water. “It’s probably for the best anyways; Tinman can’t protect you as well if you’re out in the open.”

When she heard Jackson’s reasons why she couldn’t spend time with Tinman, Sugar Pie nodded. They seemed to be perfectly valid reasons. “Maybe if Tinman gets lonely he can make the wire face inside so he can talk with everypony,” she said.

“Oh the wireframe?” Jackson replied as he dressed. “I don’t think Tinman really likes leaving his frame that much.”

“Oh…” Sugar Pie said clearly disappointed. “Well let him know that if he ever wants somepony to talk to, I’m always available.”

Jackson exited his room. “I’ll let Tinman know that later today,” he said. “Now which way is the cafeteria?”

“Oh it’s this way,” Sugar Pie said, flying down the hall.

Elsewhere in Scottsdale, an affluent suburb outside of Phoenix, a secret meeting was being held.

“Now that they’ve beefed up security we’ll never be able to take back the city from those damn ponies!” an older man of Hispanic descent said.

The speaker’s dark brown eyes shone with a righteous fury, his black hair was streaked with grey revealed his age. He had once been a successful business owner, one of the lucky few that had managed to thrive during the supposed age of plenty that the age of nanotech and A.I.’s had promised his grandparents. Of course the economy was unprepared for the surplus of human labor that was made redundant by inexpensive A.I.’s and nanotech fabrication. Fortunately he had found a niche for himself in this world, and had even been thriving up until the appearance of the bubble in the Pacific. However, the promise of a better life was too great a temptation for the impoverished masses to resist. Within the year his business had failed due to the loss of demand for his products.

With nothing left but his shattered dreams, the man vowed revenge against the object of his anger, ponies in general and the conversion bureaus more specifically. The local chapter of the HLF readily welcomed him into their fold, and soon he became one of their top lieutenants.

“Guillermo, place your trust in God. He’ll reveal to us a path around this stumbling block,” a younger man said, his blue eyes full of compassion.

Guillermo looked at the younger man, and frowned,” Jacob,” he said, “you’re not Moses and this isn’t Egypt. God isn’t going to lead us from the wilderness into paradise.”

Jacob sighed while running his fingers through his short blonde hair, when he heard Guillermo’s disbelief. It certainly was hard to be a man of faith in this age of apostasy, especially when science had all the answers and solutions to all of mankind’s ills. Science could provide for everything that people could possibly need except the most important thing of all, spiritual fulfillment. Everywhere he turned, he saw people starving for the word of God. The appearance of the deceiver Celestia and her promises of paradise had been the death knell of any spiritual revival that he knew humanity desperately needed. Because like it or not, something like Celestia was tangible, whereas the promise of a heavenly reward from an unseen being was hard to sell in this age of skepticism. Even he had almost fallen for the deceiver’s promise of a glorious paradise, until he discovered that it only had room for ponies. He knew then that ponification was literally receiving the mark of the beast. Most religious scholars had believed the mark to be some form of numbered identification of the world corps, culminating in a one world government led by the antichrist. But the moment he learned of the awful truth about ponification, he knew then that the mark was literally becoming a beast and willingly following Celestia the antichrist into hell.

With his faith in God as his only protection, Jacob vowed he would do all in his power to thwart the great deceiver and her fallen angels in pony form. The HLF provided the perfect outlet for him to preach and try to convince the poor souls that ponification led not to their salvation, but only to their damnation.

“My son’s right hand is useless now,” a middle aged woman said, her face heavily lined with wrinkles from worrying. “Guillermo, I expect that these monsters will pay for what they did to my Joshua!”

“Angela,” Jacob said, “I thank God that he saw fit to spare him from an untimely death.”

“God had nothing to do with it!” Angela snapped.

“I’ve lost three sons and a husband to these ponies,” she said, her green eyes wet with a mother’s tears, “and now they think they can take my last baby away!”

Years ago Angela had been happy. She had a loving husband and four wonderful sons. Then the conversion bureaus came and took everything away from her. The first one she lost was her eldest, Jack. He loved a girl who had convinced him that becoming a pony would offer them a better life. When she learned that her son was throwing away his future to become an animal, she wore a false smile and saw him off. At first the postcards and letters came at regular intervals, but eventually they tapered off and stopped altogether the last one she received was a plea for her to join them in Equestria. She was heartbroken, but comforted herself in the knowledge she still had her husband and three other sons. She lost her second son, Steve to a PER potion attack. She watched him die on the pavement the victim of an incomplete ponification. For all her losses, she didn’t blame the Equestrians for the act; she knew sometimes bad things happen to good people and took solace in the fact that she still had two sons left and her husband. Then her husband Bruce lost his job, after months of trying to obtain employment he decided to go pony. Over the months he kept sending letters begging her to join him, but she refused. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing her humanity. But she still had two sons left, and took comfort in that.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back was the loss of her third son Luke. He was the apple of her eye, with fiery red hair like his mother’s, he provided her with comfort when she lost Bruce to the conversion bureau. Luke had actually fallen for a native Equestrian, when her son had brought the animal into her home to meet her she lost her temper. Angela screamed at her son and told him that he was now dead to her. Every night since, she cried in shame for what she had said to him, and in anger at what the Equestrian’s had taken from her. The next day Angela and her last remaining son joined the HLF.

Guillermo sighed in exasperation. He absolutely hated working with woman for this very reason; they always seemed to get overly emotional with cooler heads were needed. Not that he didn’t blame her; Angela had valid personal reasons for hating the conversion bureaus more than anyone else he knew.

“Listen,” he said, “I can appreciate your frustration. But if we don’t proceed cautiously, people could end up losing more than just their finger.”

Angela pounded her fists in anger against the wooden table. “Guillermo,” she seethed, “you’re going to make this right. You sent my baby out there!”

“It is written,” Jacob said, “Surely it’s better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and angry woman.”

“Alright fine,” Guillermo growled. “But we’re going to verify that the information we have is legitimate. I’m not willing to risk any more losses if the tip turns out to be bogus.”

“Very well,” Angela said, “but I expect a plan we can use by the time my son’s hand is healed.”

“Angela, patience is a virtue,” Jacob said. “We’ll run a test in the next few days and see what happens.”

Angela’s anger began subsiding; she knew what had happened was neither Guillermo nor Jacob’s fault. In fact she owed the conversion bureau a debt of gratitude for sparing her only remaining son, but when she thought of Bruce, Jack, Steve, and especially Luke her eyes welled up with angry tears. “Oh Luke,” she thought bitterly to herself, “why, oh why, did I say those things to you? Please forgive your mother; I miss my baby so much.”

But no answer came to her as she mourned, only the bitter regrets of one who knew the pain of bereavement and loss.

CTO Edmund Price sat in his office in Virginia Beach. As the Chief Technology Officer for Halliburton, he was ultimately responsible for all the technology his company managed. His career had been nothing short of brilliant. Over the past forty years, he had helped his company navigate the hidden dangers that this age of nanotech and A.I.’s offered. Other companies lacking his foresight had ended up in the dustbin of history, I.B.M., who had ushered in the computer age, was now nothing more than a memory. Ford had been bought outright by the Chinese Authority for a paltry sum and now made kitchen appliances; Henry Ford was probably rolling in his grave. Even Halliburton had almost been lost if not for the timely breakthroughs that he been made in the field of cybernetics, the HWS program had singlehandedly saved the company. When he was forced to lay off his last remaining HWS, it nearly tore him in two. Such a massive investment was now gone.

Edmund was sure he would’ve been able to convince Tinman to take a brand new frame in exchange for his old one as part of his severance package. But the cyborg had actually threatened to use his weapons on his own employer. That, combined with the lawsuit the cyborg had won, made his position in the company tenuous. The world government didn’t appreciate having a HWS outside their control. What was worse, Tinman had somehow managed to actually become employed by the Equestrian government. Now nothing short of an act of war would allow them to scrap the HWS.

Edmund pulled out a flask and took several swigs. He felt the liquor burn his throat comfortingly as it went down his throat while he worriedly sat in his chair. The instructions he had received were clear, find some way to put Tinman out to pasture or they would find someone who could. Accessing the omninet, he began reading stories that had been published about Tinman. Grinding his teeth in frustration, the CTO was about to get back to work when he saw something that caught his eye. A tiny story about how the local chapter of the Phoenix HLF was decrying the use of a HWS to guard the conversion bureau as being an outrage.

As he read the story the gears in his mind began turning. Officially Halliburton couldn’t attack the HWS without facing legal troubles. However, if a third party who just happened to get their hands on some military grade technology attacked Tinman, no one needed to be the wiser as to where they got the technology from.

“I think I’ve found the solution to our little problem now…” Edmund said as he began making a few calls.

Authors note:

Thank you for reading chapter two of The Conversion Bureau: The Reluctant Cyborg gentlereaders, Because the story was so well received, I've decided to publish both this story and The Great Slave King concurrently. I hope you've found this little tale to your tastes, if you would like more giant robot action versus the more human quandaries Tinman's particular situation calls for, please let me know in the comments below and I'll make an effort to include more of them in future chapters.

Once again thank you for reading gentlereader, until next time.