Kindred to being an American.

-Pearl Jam, Glorified G

Marlon had been flipping the Axe bottle over and over for at least fifteen minutes, trying to memorize the weirdest ingredient.

Let it be known all across the land that your shower gel contains Methylchloroisothiazolinone.  Do you really want to rub that all over yourself?

His morning shit had been in the toilet for at least ten minutes, but he felt afraid to get up.  He knew that he would have to go out there sometime and make a speech to the aliens, and he feared a Freudian slip.

Welcome to Earth, aliens!  I will immediately get to work on finding you a respectable position in society.  You will always be welcome with us.  I had sex with your leader!  That is all.

Marlon tried to remember how he exited the dream, but nothing came to mind other than a slow fading to black.  When he had come back to the real world, the clock had read "1:25."  He had immediately checked, but there had been no white residue in his pants, nor any sugar water in his mouth.  She was right! had been his first thought.  He had fallen back asleep quickly, the fatigue naturally settling back in.  He could remember nothing of the ensuing dream except for one image:  himself, with torn and burned clothes, a slash on his cheek, and limbs littered with small bruises and nicks.  This version of himself had been sitting forlornly on a wooden crate in front of an abandoned and beaten-down shack, in an ancient mini-jungle of wild trees and shrubs that blocked out any background scenery.  The sun shone through from above and gave the space an ethereal glow, which ironically contributed to his painful solitude.  He was an outcast:  no humans or aliens to be found.  The worst part?  He deserved it.

When he had awoken to his alarm at 6, he had seen a yellow sticky note on his clock, which read in extremely small print:

Dear Richard,

If you are reading this, I am sleeping in your closet for the day, as I will most likely be doing often.  If you want to make other arrangements for sleeping quarters, please let me know tonight.

P.S.  Don't worry about making noise; I've plugged my ears with my own mane to block sound.  You should try it sometime.  It blocks out all incoming sound.

-Luna

Marlon had known exactly what she had meant by "You should try it sometime."  The only way he could access her mane was from directly in front of her face, and then....

He finally decided to flush the toilet to send his leavings to Kingdom Crap, then rose to wash his hands.  Once his hands were clean, he bent down to splash water on his face in a pathetic attempt to wash away skin oil.  As he lifted his head back up, he saw-

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!!!!!

No, worse.  At least a depiction of the act of Jesus fornicating with a duplicate of himself would be completely imaginary, since there were no actual pictures of the man (all cloning aside).  It would be a signal to Marlon that he had, in fact, gone bat-fuck insane and that there were at least a handful of therapists out there completely willing to shock the horrific images out of him for a currently undisclosed sum of cash.  This, however, was real.

Celestia.  In the mirror.  Staring at him.  With a pleasant backdrop of the blue sky behind her.

Marlon fell to the floor, feeling as if his heart had completely stopped, panting like a dog in late July.  He felt sick with surprise and smashed his lips together at the last second to stop a gut-wrenching scream.  The final audio product from his mouth mimicked Fluttershy's squeak of terror, but was heavily muffled.

"Sorry about that.  I probably should have made a sound to let you know I was here," said Celestia from her glass prison.

"Y... y... you th-think?" he said quietly.  He got to his feet shakily and stretched out his arms to rest on the counter, his upper body forming the shape of an easel.

"Are you OK, sir?" called a guard through the wall.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Vic.  Just slipped on some water."

"Do you need help?"

"I said I was fine.  Don't worry about it."

"10-4."

Marlon heard Vic walk away quietly.  Maybe he had to take his morning shit.  However, he could not hear any other ones out there.

Where are they?

"Is that your guard?" Celestia asked quietly.

"Yes, that's one of them.  His name's Vic.  Nice guy, but a real kiss-up, you know?"

"I had a few kiss-ups on Equestria.  I could never understand why they were so afraid of my mere presence.  It wasn't like I was going to hurt them if they messed up their greetings."

"More evidence that you don't want to hurt anybody; I like that," Marlon said, still collecting his breath.  "Let's get down to business, though.  I'm guessing you're using some bizarre video communication magic for this, and since the sky's in the background, does this mean that you're talking to the ground out there?  Because that's really conspicuous."  Marlon whispered the last bit even more quietly than the rest of the sentence in order to emphasize his rising fear.   Anti-hostility or not, seeing an anthropomorphic horse-thing talk to the ground would pretty damn weird.  As if it was communicating with more of its kind for an (invasion?).

"Not exactly.  It's a puddle made from the hoses last night.  I'm using it to get a view of you in your bathroom."

"Talking to water isn't any more inconspicuous!"

"Don't worry; I used an invisibility spell and a small memory wipe so nobody remembers me disappearing.  None of the people know I'm doing this."

"You guys have a spell for everything, dont'cha?"

"Just about.  First order of business:  how did you sleep last night?"

"Fine.  Was that really worth giving me a mini-heart attack over?  And couldn't you have just used telepathy?"

"I find face-to-face conversation to be more sincere.  Telepathy is not my preferred method.  And no, that wasn't all I was going to ask."

"Go on, please.  I'm sorry.  I'm a little stressed out for the speech and I guess it's rubbing off into conversation."

"I understand.  It's OK.  Did you talk to Luna at all?  I know you didn't get much of a chance earlier."

"Yes, I did talk to her.  In a dream.  She's good company, you know?"

Reeeeaallllyyy good company.

"So you probably know what she does:  enters dreams to perform psychology.  Did she tell you any of this?"

"Of course.  Why wouldn't she?"

"You can never be too careful with my sister.  Her treatment methods are odd, so I'm told, and may involve less than the truth."

"She seemed to tell the truth to me.  Even showed me some memories of Equestria so that I could understand where you came from."

"Did she show you what Discord looks like?"

"Indeed she did."  Marlon gave a small shiver at the thought of that living embodiment of a nightmare.

"I figured she would.  It would make you trust us more by seeing what we were running from.  Did she tell you anything else?"

Marlon noticed that Celestia harbored a hint of nervousness, as Luna had last night when she was discussing the moon.  However, Celestia kept her tone straight and her voice gave no indication of discomfort.  It was her eyes that gave her away:  they never could focus on him as deeply as they had the day before.  The fact that she was examining all that happened during the dream was odd as well.

"She told me the specifics of how her dream-magic works."

"That's all she told you?"

"Look, Celestia, why are you so interested in what she told me?  Does it matter that much?  She told me the basics about herself just like you did yesterday.  What's wrong with that?"  Marlon knew to keep his voice extra-calm so as not to alarm her.  More nervousness emanated from Celestia.

"Nothing.  Nothing's wrong with that.  I'm just curious."

"Well, your wish was granted.  You've got your answers."

"Indeed."

Celestia was having a difficult time keeping her emotions straight.  She was obviously afraid of something Luna may have said.  Probably the piece about the banishment and Discord's living at the castle.  Even though she was finished with her questions, she hesitated in the mirror.

"Is something wrong, Celestia?"

It was a stupid question, but Marlon knew that playing dumb was the key to answers.  Celestia hesitated.

"P... possibly.  I'm not... entirely sure if I should ask this, because if I'm wrong, I'll have to explain for nothing, and the story will be an awkward one."

"You can just do another memory wipe to make sure I don't remember the question if you're wrong.  Besides, you don't have to explain anything if you don't want to."

"Well, it may be important to know about in the future if you don't already...."

Marlon knew how Celestia felt.  Asking whatever question she was about to was like asking out a cute girl in high school.  The fear is overwhelming.

"Go ahead.  Get the question over with if it's bothering you."

Celestia breathed deeply and began:  "Did Luna... try anything last night?"

Celestia cringed as she said "try anything last night."

Oh, fuck.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Marlon, playing dumb again.

"I mean... did she try anything... s... s... (123-Go!...  123-Go!) ...sexual?"

Should I tell her the truth?  It was Luna's idea after all.

"Well...."

What's it gonna be?

"Now that you mention it... she did try a little... sum'n sum'n there."

LUNATRIEDITLUNATRIEDITLUNATRIEDITWASN'TMYIDEAPLEASEDON'TKILLME!!!!

"Oh no.  Why now?" Celestia said quietly with a sigh.  She placed a frontal leg over her eyes in the Equestrian equivalent of a facepalm.  "I want to... formally apologize for my sister's conduct.  She put you in an uncomfortable position, and that's a terrible way to make a good example.  I'll have a... talk with her later."

Celestia looked truly hurt, as Luna had when she told Marlon about her own predicament.

"Look... Celestia....  It's OK.  I'm fine."

THANK YOU BABY JESUS!!!

Marlon was an atheist, but that was his favorite silly-sounding expression of gratitude.

"No, it's not OK," she said with a heavy sigh.  "Luna is the princess of the night and has extensive knowledge of all that happens during that time, such as... s... (123-Go!) sexual... things.  She began to study sex when she was younger and became more obsessed with it than any other subject.  I suppose the science of it was what kept her attention.  It's no secret among my kind that she's a nymphomaniac; she can have as much of it as she wants in dreams.  She's constantly entering adolescent ponies' dreams for that reason specifically.  It's a win-win situation for her.  But you....  She probably heard about your aversion to sex talk and saw that as an opportunity to use her 'methods.'"  They may have worked, but at what cost?  I'm deeply sorry.  I hope you can forgive her."

Marlon noticed that Celestia's cheeks were blood-red.  Apparently humans weren't the only blushing creatures.

"Look, I told you it's OK.  If you must know, I didn't mind.  I felt scared about people finding out at first, but in a dream... there aren't any real consequences, right?  Nobody knows about anything unless you tell them."

"But you're of different species.  Doesn't it seem... odd?  To say the least?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't.  But for some reason, it's not that bad.  She has the same... pieces down there as human females do, and...  I dunno... something about her that gave the illusion of sex with a human female.  I think it's because she gives out a similar amount of body heat and her skin feels like a human's.  And the sex obsession.  Definitely something I look for in a girl.  By the way, that part I said about the pieces lets me answer your question you had yesterday; we reproduce by the exact same method you do.  Mystery solved."

"Fortunately, gametes of different species never combine."

"Indeed.  Then again, it was a dream, and I'm sterile already, so there's... negative... concern?"

"Yes...," said Celestia, still not convinced of his consent.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, on Earth, sex usually makes a great impression.  We humans love doing it as much as you do.  You don't have to apologize to me."

"But she'll probably try it again... and again... and again... until who knows when?"

"If it becomes a problem (which I doubt it will), I'll talk to her.  If it's me she wants, then she should be quick to listen so that I don't leave her alone."

"But you can't leave her alone.  She can enter your dreams whenever she pleases."

"But I can stop listening to her. Judging by how she latched on last night, that would be torture for her."

Celestia sighed again.

"OK, if you truly aren't bothered by it, then I guess it's OK.  Win-win?  Eh?"

"I'm surprised you aren't mad at me.  I thought you might kill me if you found out."

"I know it seems odd, but I care about my sister, and I know that sex is an obsession that's rooted so deeply in her brain that not even magic can change it.  None of our sicknesses have ever been passed to other species before, or at least not that I know of, and since you can't impregnate her, then... it's what she would want."

"Do you think that your other subjects would be mad at me?  I've been sort of worried that they might find out."

"They would never think of it, especially the adolescent males.  They know full well what she does, and there would be no surprise that she's doing it to you."

"Just one more question before I go:  I know it's probably not something I should ask, but I don't want you to have to make this awkward conversation again... what if any of your subjects want to do 'that,' too?  Since Luna's capable of nymphomania, then how about the others?"

"They probably won't, since you're so much bigger than them, but I know some that definitely obsess over sex....  Let's just leave it at this:  if you have any problems, or are forced into a situation that makes you uncomfortable, don't be afraid to tell me.  You deserve to be comfortable living with us."

"Um.... OK.  Thanks for being so understanding about this.  I was pretty nervous that somebody might find out before you showed up."

"It's no problem. It feels good to get that weight off my shoulders.  I'll... let you get back to getting ready."

Celestia's face faded until Marlon could see himself in the mirror again.

Good choice.  Free sex for life.

---

Marlon could not have asked for better weather to recite his speech in:  none at all.  Since the ship was still hanging in the sky, no sunlight was visible, but Marlon thought he could see small flecks of yellow light glinting off of a few of the ship's lower panels.  The streetlamps had automatically turned off, so construction-grade floodlight fixtures were wheeled onto the lawn with the camera crews.   More floodlights were mounted above the massive presidential podium, making the place vaguely resemble the first scene from The Wall in which the protagonist sings In the Flesh?.  Marlon could almost hear the guitars in his head when he walked out to the microphones.

So ya thought ya might like to go to the show?

As he straightened his tie, he heard the usual applause from the people outside the gate, but also a loud rumbling sound from below, like the world's largest steam engine.  He looked to the ground nervously, expecting an earthquake, and angled his eyebrows in a curious fashion when he saw the spectacle before him.

The ponies, all something-hundred of them (including the two leaders), were rapidly beating their hooves against the ground at his arrival.  It was apparently their version of applause.  Marlon nearly chuckled at this, but held himself back, for this was a formal occasion.

To feel the warmth, the beloved confusion, that space cadet glow?

"Ever since I was young, I've read books and watched movies about aliens, made by people who had never met them.  In The War of the Worlds, the aliens want to kill off the human race.  In Independence Day, the aliens want to kill off the human race.  In Alien, the aliens want to kill off the human race.  In Star Trek, there are aliens who want to kill off the human race; are you sensing a pattern here?  Then from out of nowhere, a massive U.F.O. comes down from the sky and lands right on the Washington Monument and what's inside?

Aliens.  Aliens that are small, colorful, and look like horses.  Already this goes against the movies in seven ways.  One:  the aliens are not ugly.   Two:  they look like horses.  Three:  most humans could easily consider them 'cute and cuddly.'  Four:  they have personalities similar to ours.  Five:  their planet was extremely similar to ours.  Six:  they use actual magic.  And seven:  they didn't hurt us.  My point is:  you are nearly the polar opposite of what the human race was expecting when we learned that aliens had arrived.  Last night, your leaders introduced themselves to me, and I think we will get along just fine with each other.  Now, as for the rest of you:  I have been informed of what life was like back on Equestria by your leaders, and you society seemed to operate similarly enough to ours.  Apparently, each of you possesses at least one special talent that drives your personality, and since that is true, I have formulated a plan.  I intend to work with Congress to pass legislation allowing you to accept jobs and housing in the real world-to live like humans do, essentially.  If this plan passes through, each of you will be individually interviewed, and a job will be recommended to you based on your talents.  I intend to create a new government branch, the D.P.A., or Department of Pony Affairs, with your two leaders as its heads.  You will work among us humans, and will earn money as a consequence.  New apartment complexes will be built in a community near here, allowing you to live among each other, but with your salaries, you may choose to buy your own housing as we humans do.  You will be provided with ample amounts of food, as well.  Until the buildings are constructed, a temporary settlement will be built on the lawn.  I intend to begin work on the legislation soon.  While you are living here on the lawn, you will be instructed about our society and how to quickly adjust to it.  This will prepare you for your future lives with us, which I hope will be mutually beneficial.  Thank you and have a good day."

Tell me, is something eluding you, such as:  is this not what you expected to see?

The rumbling and applauding began as Marlon walked away, as did his worry.

If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes, you'll just have to claw your way through this disguise.

---

The phone rang a few hours later as Marlon was at his desk, looking over a bill Congress had proposed the day before the aliens showed up-something about cutting away the sale of tobacco.  He had been lingering on a verdict of "no," since it seemed rather arbitrary, and if people wanted to kill themselves that was their own damn business, but the phone call was a delightful escape from the mind debate.

"Richard Marlon speaking," he said into the phone instead of "Yo" to sound official.

"Hello, sir.  This is North Wick from the Rosslyn Research Facility , regarding the brown substance sent in last night."

The man's voice was intelligent and low, and he spoke in a matter-of-fact way, as a plumber would when reading off an estimate.

"What did you find out?"

"Well, the first thing we did was test for radioactive materials, but there weren't any.  Next for traces of subtle poisons, like thallium, arsenic, mercury, lead, et cetera.  Nothing again.  We couldn't find any odd bacteria growing on it except for the normal, relatively harmless traces resulting from Earth air exposure; no viruses either.  No special reactions with water or sodium, contains carbon..."

Marlon could hear the man flipping a page over.

"...malleable, sweet smell, tastes like chocolate.  And is."

"Is... chocolate?"

"Indeed.  This stuff is pure milk chocolate.  All the basic ingredients:  sugar, cacao powder, milk, you name it!  Everyone here was completely astounded that the cute and cuddly creatures actually excrete chocolate.  In fact, one of the researchers giggled maniacally at the absurdity."

And that, dear children, is why there are mad scientists.  Any questions?

"OK, so we know it's not toxic-there's a bit of weight lifted off out shoulders.  Now what?"

"We'd like to run a few tests on one of them ASAP so that we can learn more about how their bodies function."

"What kind of tests?  I don't want these things getting hurt-we haven't seen them angry yet."

"Painless, of course.  X-Rays, camera pills (It's a new technology we've been working on.), hair samples.  Just enough to know what makes them tick."

"I'd like to come along, if that's OK.  They trust me, and that will make the situation less intimidating."

"Of course.  I understand completely."

"When did you intend to do this?"

"Possibly today or tomorrow, but it all depends on what's convenient for you."

Marlon swiveled in his chair and looked out the window at the lawn.  Under the floodlights, military personnel were setting up three fifty-pony shelter halls, which were actually small corrugated-metal buildings.  Four hundred-pony shelter halls were being assembled out back.  Each ran the length of its respective lawn and stretched forty feet wide.   Mattresses, food counters, and lights would be inserted later, along with ten port-o-shits (The ponies could be instructed on how to use them if they did not find out for themselves within the first minute or so.) for the fifties and twenty for the hundreds.

"Did you see the D.C. Unveiled episode last night?"

"Yes I did.  I might recommend that we don't use Fluttershy for the tests."

"Indeed.  Pinkie would probably be more accepting, what with her being the optimist of the group.  So you remember that they can teleport things if  they're unicorns?"

"Yes, sir.  Were... you thinking of using that method to get here?"

"Yes.  Celestia knows how to do crazy amounts of magic at once and can probably zap Pinkie and I over there no problem.  That way, we won't need to use a big van or the limo.  People would be swamping me more than normal if I did that.  Might also think we're going to hurt them, and we don't need trouble from overly zealous hippies.  And since you saw the episode, you won't think I'm crazy when I say 'I can just have Celestia zap me over there.'"

"Indeed.  Please come by at your earliest convenience."

"Wilco.  Goodbye."

Marlon hung up the phone.  The verdict on the tobacco bill was still "no."

---

As Marlon stepped out of the door, he saw hundreds of eyes gluing to him, of ponies and people.

And mice and men.

None of the ponies stamped this time-they were nervous that Marlon was now so close to them.  They knew he could be trusted, but new leaders are difficult to accept without proper personal introduction.  The people outside the fence began to take pictures, but the shutter and applause sounds were drowned out by the drills and hammers being used to erect-

Heh-heh.

the buildings.

He walked slowly toward the technicolor mass, and a clear, wide pathway formed for him.  As he walked through, he noticed that many of the ponies wore stoic or fearful expressions.  He could hear whispers (which must have been quite loud if they could permeate the sound of the tools) and many hoofbeats behind him.  Slowly, the whispers formed into quick, yet discernible words.  One was definitely familiar.

"You ask 'im!"*

"No you!  It was your idea!"

"But ah'm nawt the brave one 'round here!"

"What's he gonna think of us if we intrude like this?"

"We're nawt intrudin'.  He's nawt in the middle of a conversation, is he?"

"No, but he'll think it's a stupid question."

"That has nothing to do with intrusion."

"OK, if you're gonna be the smart one around here, you ask him!"

"I'm not good with words, you know that!"

"Sure you are.  You wrote that really long story about that Appleoosan mine shaft, right?"

"I didn't speak it!  You're just stalling, aren't you?"

"Who says I'm stalling?  What was there to stall for anyway?"

"Sounds like yer just actin' chicken to me."

The whispers stopped for a few seconds.  Marlon then felt a small tugging on his right pant leg.  He turned around and saw three smaller ponies staring up at him.  One was bright yellow with red hair and a bow in her mane, one was orange with slightly frizzy, yet curled purple hair and matching irises (the one that had tugged his pants), and one was Sweetie Belle.  None of them had pictures on their rears.

"Mister Marlon, uh, sir?" said the orange pony in a young teenage girl's voice with a dry undertone.  "I'm Scootaloo, this is AppleBloom, and this is Sweetie Belle," she said, leaning her head to each respective member of the group.  "And we wanted to... uh... ask a little question."

Marlon looked around and saw that the other ponies were still forming a wide path, but no others would come near him.  He knelt to the ground to meet their eyes.

"Go ahead.  I'm listening."

"Well, when you were giving your speech, we heard that you wanted to... uh... give....  You know, AppleBloom puts it much better than I do, don't you?" Scootaloo said as she grabbed AppleBloom's neck from behind and shoved her forward.

"Uh... howdy.  Ah'm AppleBloom, you probably met mah sister AppleJack earlier, and what Scootaloo's tryin' ta say is... we was wondering if... y'all really meant it when ya said ya could... uhm... give us... jawbs?"

"Yeah, I meant it," said Marlon to the pony with the heavy southern accent.  "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Aw, nonononononononono... No.  Ain't nothin' wrong," she said, her face brightening by the second.

"We only wanted to be sure.  It sounded too good to be true.  As if all of us were having the same dream sinusally," said Scootaloo from behind.

"Simultaneously," said Sweetie Belle.  "Sinusally isn't a word."

"What are you, a dictionary?"

"Will you find a new catch phrase?  You said it to me five times yesterday!  Doesn't count the times on Equestria!"

No squeak?

"It wouldn't be my catch phrase if you didn't keep correcting me!"

"Go buy a dictionary of your own then!  That phrase gets old!"

"I can't afford one, you know that!  Not like we had a lot of jobs on Equestria!"

"Well ask somebody for one here so you can stop relying on me."

"I don't rely on you at all!  You keep correcting me!"

"It's hard not to when somepony says 'sinusally!'"

"So I screwed up once, so what?  Why do we have to argue about this?"

"I didn't start this.  You're the one who's being irritable."

"Don't call me things I don't know the meaning of!" yelled Scootaloo, pointing her hoof directly at Sweetie Belle.  The outstretched leg reminded Marlon of a gun barrel, as if the previous statement was a threat.

"It means 'acting as if you're irritated.'"

"I don't have a rash!"

"No, not like that!  Like personality-wise.  You're acting crabby is what I mean."

"I wouldn't be if somepony didn't start this."

"I didn't start anything!"

There it is.

"Gals, gals, gals, stop fightin'!  Stop fightin'!  You're doin' this in front a' the humans' leader!  D' y'all want him to think we're jerks?!" interjected AppleBloom.  Still, no other ponies came forward.

"I'm a might sorry 'bout ma friends here.  They're always arguin' 'bout words an' such."

"Why do you want jobs so badly?" asked Marlon, pretending to ignore the slightly hilarious spectacle.

"'Cause if we don't find sum'n we're good at, we'll never get our Cutie Marks!"

"What's a Cutie Mark?"

"Celestia didn't tell ya?"

"No, but I'm gonna guess that that's what you call that thing on your rears-that little picture.  The word 'mark' was a context clue."

Looks like I'm an English teacher now.  Better remember to look up similes if I have the sudden urge to fap.

"That's exactly what it is!  They appear awn the skin when a pony finds their one special talent-the one thing they do best 'bove awl else.  It's in the DNA, ya know?  We've been tryin' for ages, but, sadly, we're... blank-flanks," she said morosely.  The Cutie Mark was apparently a rite of passage for the aliens, as silly as it sounded.

"Well, hopefully, you can find your talents with a job here.  But remember:  job switching on Earth isn't as easy as you might think.  There's all sorts of paperwork to file."

"Ah know.  Same thing on Equestria.  'Least it'll give us a start."

"I'm sure it will," Marlon said as he ruffled AppleBloom's hair.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find Pinkie."

Sweetie rushed up and hugged him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder.  She smelled like a marshmallow.

"ThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouTHANK YOU!!!"

OH DEAR GOD THAT'S LOUD!!

He hugged her back as AppleBloom said, "Uh, Sweetie Belle, you might not wanna do that right now.  Everypony's lookin' at us."

Sweetie's head began to emit a large amount of heat as she got down, blushing profusely.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she said from the side of her mouth to AppleBloom.

"Have they been looking at us the whole time?" asked Scootaloo.

"Purdy sure," replied AppleBloom.

"Why did we come up here now, then?"

"Seemed like th' only time we could get close to 'im."

"I thought they'd be looking at the army guys setting up stuff."

"Nope.  They're gonna look at the leader first."

"You think Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon saw us?"

"Doubt it.  They're prob'ly still lookin' at th' army guys settin' up stuff; smarts ain't their strawng department."

"Which means I was at least partially right."

"OK, OK, y'all was partially right.  Nawt everypony's lookin' at us."  

"Anypony finding it creepy that none of us thought of this before?" asked Sweetie.

"We'd best vamoose.  No point'n attractin' more attention."

"Bye, Mr. Marlon!" said Scootaloo as they ran off in the direction they came, presumably to flank the crowd to come in at the back.

Kids, thought Marlon humorously.  Not as bad when they're not human.  Even though they may be dipshits.

---

Celestia and the others from the interview were sitting under a wide tree (opposite the gate) beside a rumbling Sunbelt generator for the lights.  As Marlon walked up, Celestia scooted to the right, making room for him between herself and Fluttershy.  He sat down with his ears ringing from the squeak.  Celestia's Cutie Mark sun gazed back at him, while her tail waved rhythmically in the lack of a breeze.  It occasionally brushed against his arm, but he felt nothing, as with Luna.

"So, how was your first run-in with the Cutie Mark Crusaders?"

"That's what they call themselves?" he said with a chuckle.

"Either that or the C.M.C.  Every young pony strives to earn their cutie mark, but those three are unusually obsessed.  They're the only three ponies of their age group that have none.  To me, that means that they will most likely be more successful with their talents than other ponies, since whatever they're good at requires a heavy amount of expertise."

"That's a good philosophy-makes growing up seem worth it.

As for the encounter, it was OK.  They're an interesting bunch-very in-sync with each other.  But how did that one get the name Scootaloo?"

"Her real name is Philomena-named after her mother, but she decided to call herself Scootaloo because she's constantly using her scooter for transportation-uses her still-developing wings like a motor to propel herself."

"Does she have a sibling?  I know Sweetie Belle and AppleBloom do."

"No, she's an only child.  She would have had an identical twin named Zoomie, but she came out of the womb dead, attached to Scootaloo's wings by the back.  However, Scootaloo's own wings were not expected to grow correctly due to shifting in the womb, but Zoomie's were ironically still salvageable...."

Marlon stared back at her with one side of his dropped jaw sticking out in a nearly comical expression of horror.  He found it astounding that she could simply rattle off information like that.

"Please tell me you didn't...."

Of course she did, dumbass!  Why else would she end in an ellipsis?

"It had to be done.  Otherwise, she would have grown up an Earth pony due to recessive genes, and her parents were pegasi and lived in Cloudsdale, where no other pony types can live.  Our clouds were magnetic, and pegasus wings are always of opposing polarity to them, allowing pegasi to walk on clouds.  It's evolutionary.  As for Scootaloo, she'll live the rest of her life with her would-be sister's wings."

Celestia looked deeply saddened, but none of the other ponies seemed to register to such a degree.  Possibly because they were never there to see it happen.

Were they?

Marlon still held the expression.

"Note to self:  don't talk about the wings."

"Don't reference her parents either.  Her father was killed in a train crash, and her mother slowly descended into madness at Zoomie's death.  For a few years, she believed Scootaloo was Zoomie, and thought that it was Scootaloo who had died.  She eventually threw herself off the mountain when they both visited Canterlot.  I guess all that denial caught up with her."

Please fix my mom's brain!

The bridge.  Where was the bridge?  Nebraska or Missouri, Marlon could not recall; it was so long ago.  He still remembered the hot summer sun.  The crowd blocking the traffic on the-

Texas!

-Fred Hartman Bridge.  Marlon's mother, as one final display of power, had dragged him down to Houston to stay with his uncle.  Marlon had been driving his uncle's Ford truck back from a record store, a large shopping bag full of tapes and 33's in the passenger seat, when he approached the massive diamond (rhombus?)-shaped supports holding up the bridge, the oil field smokestacks blasting white smoke into the blazing August sky.  One lane of the bridge was closed, due to a woman hanging off of one of the suspension cables.  She threw herself off as Marlon finally drove by.  He knew who it had been.  He knew the car, the dress, the voice, screaming passages from Revelation-numbers, subscripts, and all.  He refused to stop; he did not want to see what was left of what he had come from floating on the water far below.  He turned up his radio...

And would you cry if I told you that I lied?

And would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?

"Mom...," Marlon whispered under his breath, the grass coming back into focus.  He felt a pair of appendages wrapping around his waist.  Fluttershy was hugging him again, sitting up beside him.

"What's with the sudden hug?"

"You were thinking about something sad.  I don't know what it was, but that glazed look in your eyes gave it away.  I would see it in my animal friends back home, so you really aren't that much different.  So... I thought a hug would make you feel better.  But I can stop if you want me to."

Fluttershy's voice was barely audible over the machinery, but Marlon did not need to hear her at all; her vibes did the talking.  The glassy, enormous eyes staring up at him conveyed compassion and empathy

Aren't those the same thing?  Should look that up.   

Marlon put his right arm around the yellow creature in response.

"Thanks for lookin' out for me.  Look, about earlier:  I'm sorry I made you go up on TV at all-for some reason I thought you could deal with the camera-is-a-friend concept.  Shows how wrong I can be."

"It's OK.  We don't know each other very well, so I don't expect you to know much about me."

"Well, I do know some stuff about you-you're shy (There's one thing; the name gives that one away.), you like animals (Don't let me forget to take you to the D.C. Zoo-you'll love it there.), and you've got two massive reservoirs right behind those giant eyes of yours."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no.  It's fine.  I consider it quite amazing that your alien tear ducts can even hold that much water.  One question, though; I never got to ask:  why did your parents name you 'Fluttershy' before you were born?  Wouldn't that be setting you up for a shy lifestyle?"

"Back home, there were machines that could show a filly's or colt's complete genetic layout before birth.  I inherited the shyness gene from my dad.  Babies were usually named for their personality or physical traits."

"Interesting.  See?  Now I know a little more about you.  And that your baby-horse names are exactly the same as ours; that's a little weird, but it's one of those astronomical coincidences, I suppose."

"Out of curiosity, what brought you over here in the first place?" asked Celestia calmly, being that a question that can easily convey hostility.

"I was going to ask Pinkie a question."

"OOH!  What's up Richie?"

Pinkie had been sitting on the other side of Celestia, but began to jump up and down repeatedly with the question in order to make eye contact from above Celestia's head.  Marlon could have sworn he heard a small, source-less "pwing" sound with every jump.

"Um....  One of my colleagues called me up a little while ago and asked if I could bring one of you to his lab for some tests."

Pinkie stopped jumping and yelled, "AWW!  Nobody told me there'd be a TEST!  What kind of a planet is this?  Aliens come.  'Oh, here, you gotta take this test before you can live here.'  This had better have something to do with cupcakes!"

Pinkie performed her imitation of a deep voice at her impression of him while making expressive hoof motions.

"No.  Not that kind of test.  We want to find out about how you ponies' bodies work, so I thought that you could give our scientists a nice introduction.  The tests will be completely painless, of course."

"Okie Dokie!  Sounds nice!  I like science-y stuff!  But you might wanna ask Twilight, since she's bigger into that sort of thing."

"I'll go if you want me to," piped in Twilight from Fluttershy's other side.  "I'm all for the pursuit of knowledge, and it would make me feel good if I could help provide knowledge to others.  If you don't mind, I can bring some of my books."

"AW!  But I thought I was gonna go!  The one test that sounds interesting and I'm thrown out like rotten batter!"

"I don't see why both of you can't go, but I certainly wasn't counting on it.  Then again, it can provide comparison between two completely different gene sets."

"Are you sure they'll be painless?" asked Celestia.

"The man on the phone said they would, but I'd like to go as well, just to be sure."

"But how will you get there?  The rest of your people will hound you all the way."

"Well, that's where I need a favor....  Do you think you could zap the three of us to the Rosslyn Research Facility?  It's on the other side of the bridge over there."

Marlon pointed with his finger to the general direction, which was futile since the bridge could not be seen.

"I could do that, but I'm not sure how that building is constructed.  I could teleport you there and you might wind up stuck in the walls."

"Do you think you could give some coordinates?  That astronomy book references your planet's size and coordinate conversions," said Twilight.

"Uh, sure.  Let me check."

Marlon reached into his pocket and pulled out his Droid phone.  Verizon had given it to him months ago as a beta test.  So far, the thing worked, but its QWERTY slide-out was inconveniently stiff.

Better tell 'em to fix that before it goes to market.

He found the coordinates online and read them off to Twilight, but she did not appear to be listening.  Her pupils had dilated so much that they would most likely have eclipsed the rest of her eye had the purple irises not been in the way.

"What's that thing?" she said, walking over to him and staring at it, mesmerized.

"It's a Droid, but it's only a prototype.  It's actually pretty revolutionary-this is the iPhone's first real competition."

"Can I touch it?"

"Uh..., OK, but be very gentle-it's very rare."

"OK," said Twilight in a trance-like voice.

Marlon held out the rectangular device and returned it to its menu screen.  Twilight touched the screen lightly on the calendar app and involuntarily dilated her pupils even more.  She then touched one of the dates:  May 1st, pulling up a screen that read, "Attend cabinet meeting today at 4.  Discuss religious bias in government."  Twilight moved her hoof to the left while lightly touching the screen as Marlon had done while searching for coordinates, pulling up May 2nd's agenda.

Veto bill about school buses stopping at railroad crossings.  Pretty sure the flashing lights and obnoxious dinging indicate when to stop; buses shouldn't have to hold up traffic by stopping otherwise.

"It's beautiful.  I can write my schedules down so much more easily now," she said in her daze.  She continued to stare until Marlon put it back in his pocket.  

"I take it you didn't have a lot of touchscreens back on Equestria."

"No, that's the first I've ever seen.  It's definitely got me curious," said Celestia.

Marlon saw that the other ponies around him were staring at it as well.

"Twilight, do you think you could poof up that book of yours now?" asked Marlon.

Twilight shook her head back and forth violently to snap herself out of it.

"I'm sorry about that.  I've... never seen anything like it."

The book appeared on the ground with a flash as she told the equivalents to Celestia.  Apparently she had been listening to the numbers.

"Everybody ready?" asked Celestia.

"OOH!  This is gonna be fun!  I love being teleported!"

*pwing* *pwing* *pwing*

A bag appeared next to Twilight, pre-loaded with books, as she used magic to push the astronomy one in and place the bag on her back like a saddle.

"Is this gonna hurt?" asked Marlon.  "I probably should have asked earlier."

"Not at all," said Celestia as her eyes began to glow.

"I'll do a small memory wipe so none of the people will remember you were ever out here."

---

The Rosslyn Research Facility was constructed in 2007 under some Virginia bigwig's order.  It was housed underneath ABC-7 studios in a specially-designed sub-basement, far below the parking garage and only accessible by a certain garage elevator, but required a certain type of keycard to reveal a certain blue button beneath a certain floor tile.  To protect its location, it was given the pseudonym "Tilly's Ice Cream" on the web.  When potential customers found themselves in a parking garage, they would dismiss the address as a fluke and find a Ben & Jerry's instead.  It specialized in biological studies, but was ordered to be kept a secret by the Virginia government so that possible "unethical" practices would not leak.

The last thing that Marlon remembered was staring at Celestia; the next second, he was here, standing and staring at the certain elevator.  He saw Twilight and Pinkie next to him.

"That was incredible!" said an amazed Marlon, feeling around his body to make sure he made it in one piece.  "I think I made it in one piece!"

"Of course.  Magic can affect all life forms, and Celestia's been practicing teleportation for longer than I've been alive.  Don't expect me to teleport you back, though.  I have a difficult time teleporting life-forms to unknown coordinates, but Celestia can take us back to her position," said Twilight, completely unfazed.

"How will she know when to do that?"

"I can send a message to her.  It'll be fine."

"You just said you can't teleport stuff to unknown coordinates."

"Life forms.  I said 'life forms.'  Messages are just pieces of paper and require less magic energy for teleportation, leaving more energy for target-locking.  Celestia would be the target in this case."

"You'll have to teach me more about this stuff; it's nice to know if I need stuff to be teleported."

Twilight magically lifted a sheet of paper from one of the books in her bag and moved it in front of Marlon's face.

"Read this; it deals with magical energy measurements.  You can fold it and put it in your pocket if you'd like; I can magically iron out the creases later."

"Thanks.  I'll read it on the way down," Marlon said as he followed Twilight's advice.

"Down?  Where's there to go?  There's just a bunch of cars here!" pointed out Pinkie.

"How do you know they're called cars?"

"I heard some of your army guys talkin' about 'em on the way to your lawn.  I'm gonna guess you humans use 'em to get around, judgin' by the wheels and stuff.  OOH!  WHEELS!  That reminds me:  whatever you do, don't show these things to Trixie; she hates wheels!  There was this one time that she ordered Snips and Snails to drag her around on a giant carriage with the wheels removed!  I know their spines almost broke, but it was hilarious!"

"Who names their kid 'Snails?'"

"Snails isn't exactly the smartest of our race, so the rumor says his parents named him 'Snails' to indicate that he was 'slow.'  His father was actually a marine biologist (studied snails a lot) and named him that due to the passing on of the gene.  Thus, his Cutie Mark is a picture of a snail.  It's a rare case of a yet-to-be-discovered talent turning into a Cutie Mark.  Same thing happened with Snips; his father was a barber, and his Cutie Mark is a pair of scissors," Twilight explained.

"How would you use scis-oh, yeah.  Magic."

Marlon looked around and saw that there was not another human in sight.  They were all either at work or out to see-

The ship.

Marlon walked to the garage's window-grates and stared at the monstrous disc covering the city.  He could see the edge now, its multiple antennae block-covered center clearly visible, rotating slowly clockwise.  Traffic was jammed across the Route 66 bridge.  Flashes of light emanated from cameras across the edge of the city.

Must have been one hell of a castle to have a shit-tank like that.

He walked back to the elevator, made sure no other humans were around, and pushed the "up" button.  The elevator doors opened after a few moments, and the three stepped inside.

"OOH!  I love elevators!" said Pinkie.  "This reminds me of a time when I was young and went to see the Wonderbolts with Dashie!  There was this really big elevator that took us to our seats in the stadium and Dashie *ha...* Dashie... told the funniest joke about a mare walking into a bar on the way up!"

Pinkie burst out laughing loudly, but Twilight quieted her by shoving her hoof in Pinkie's mouth, creating an odd "thoonk" sound, like a palm being slapped over a wet bottle top.

"Sshh!  Don't start that here!  There could be people here who might freak out at two aliens being in their garage!"

"S... sorry *ha* Twi.  I'll try to keep it under control until la- *ha* -ter."

Marlon pulled the certain keycard from his pocket and pushed the certain button under the certain floor tile.  The elevator began to descend slowly.

"Now, that process I just did is a closely guarded secret, so don't tell anybody, human or pony or any other fully-sentient, language-speaking life forms (if there are any) on this planet."

"Your secret is safe with me," said Twilight seriously.

"And me, too!  What would any of my friends care about some boring button anyway?  They don't even know where this place is!" said Pinkie.

"That's the spirit.  By the way, remind me to thank Celestia for letting me bring you here."

"I don't see why she wouldn't have.  If it's painless and for the pursuit of knowledge, go ahead.  And if they try any funny business, you can order them to stop, right?"

"Of course.  I would never want any of you to get hurt.  The last thing you need to go through is unnecessary pain."

"By the way, since you're finding out about us, do you think you could let us know how you humans work?  Pursuit of knowledge, after all."

"Sure.  I have some books back home about anatomy; you can read those."

Now you can learn about sex by your own goddam self!

Pinkie was muttering to herself about something.  Marlon thought he heard the word "joke" in the mix.

"What was that Pinkie?" asked Marlon.

"I'm trying to remember the joke Dashie told me.  I'm not sure if it was about a mare and a bar?  A mare and a train?  A mare and a chain?  A pickle and a crane?  A donkey and a trombone?  A stick?  Maybe it was a stick.  No, no, that couldn't have been it.  Oh!  It was something to do with royalty.  Yes!  That was it!  I remember!  She called it-"

The doors opened to the dull-white lobby just as Pinkie blurted out the joke's name loudly.  Two men in lab coats walking by the receptionist desk stopped and stared with the most confused looks Marlon had ever seen when the pink, anthropomorphic horse-thing before them yelled, "The Aristocrats."  One began to snicker and walk over to the group as the other continued to stare and Marlon felt his cheeks go hot.

"Mr. Marlon?  I'm North Wick from the phone," said the man as he shook Marlon's hand.  He was about the same height as Marlon and much skinnier, but his voice was similar to Marlon's-deep, but slightly more nasal.  His hair was slightly lighter but in the same skull-fitting style as the president's.  His mouth and nose were visibly thinner and his face was shaven and nearly triangular, but the two men would appear very similar from a distance.  Marlon saw Wick's ID card and saw that his real name was Northrop Wiscreuczyk, but decided not to point it out.  He would simply be known as "Wick."

"So, here they are," Wick said with amazement as he knelt to meet the aliens' eyes.  They smiled back.  Wick held out his hand shakily to Twilight.  "Hello," he said quietly.  "Twilight, I presume?"

"Indeed," she said as she shook back.  "I assume you were the one who wanted us here?"

"I made the call, at least.  Thank you for coming," said Wick in his still-nervous voice.

Wick was quite nervous, judging by his voice.  The man who was previously walking with him slowly moved forward.  He wore a large, dark-brown beard and monstrous wire-framed glasses that would have been in style in the '70's or '80's.  His long, thin nose and rectangular facade left most of his face dominated by cheeks.  He held his hand out to Pinkie slowly, knelt down, and said, "I'm... Gavin Earhart."

"Are you related to-"

"No," Earhart quickly snapped at Marlon's question.  He waited for Pinkie's approval of the handshake.

Pinkie placed her hoof in his hand and they shook slowly.

"Can I pet you?" Pinkie blurted out.

"Wha... why?"

"'Cause you wanted to shake hands, and I think I've done enough of that today.  When do I get to perform some odd physical contact, hm?"

"Pinkie!" Twilight snapped.  "I'm sorry about my friend here.  She's not very well versed in etiquette," she said tensely to Earhart.

"No, it's OK.  She can do it.  So long as she's... very... careful."

Earhart was extremely nervous, and obviously wanted to appease the bizarre life form so that he would not be killed.  Pinkie lifted her hoof up and slowly stroked his ear-length, dark-brown hair.

"Interesting," said Earhart quietly.  "No obvious bone texture from the outside.  Must be covered by layers of fat or muscle."

"You feel really nice, mister!  I think I'm gonna start doing this now instead of shaking!  Hands are so boring!"

Pinkie let her hoof down as Earhart stood up.

"Well, then, shall we start?" said Wick to the group.

The verdict was "yes," and Marlon and the aliens were led from the lobby to a wide hallway to the left of the reception desk (which had been empty this whole time).  The hall appeared to be stolen from a standard office building.  Grey carpeting ran from wall to wall, with rubber strips serving as moulding.  Paintings were hung on the wall at random intervals, often between doors, depicting pleasant scenes such as beaches, forests, mountains, and other landscapes whose golden sun-tones would be ironically complimented with slow jazz or new age music from the '80's.  Marlon began to play Stanley Clarke's Hideaway in his mind to complete the settings.  He was transported to another time:  a time before the advent of a national internet dependence.  A time before that goddam Twitter bullshit came around and conversation meant something.  A time when he could buy records at more than one store per state.  A time when he could be-

-At peace?

Marlon had originally wondered if Wick and Earhart were the only ones here, but he could hear voices behind many of the doors.  He could not hear what they were all talking about, but he knew that aliens were on the brain.

But why aren't they out here?

"We're here," said Wick as they reached the end of the hallway.  An office-style door awaited them, angled J-shaped handle and all.  Wick opened it and ushered the other four inside.  He closed the door behind him.

The laboratory was at least one hundred feet deep and thirty wide.  Along the walls sat a plethora of complicated machinery, containing screens, knobs, buttons, dials, and pressure-sensing flat buttons with small red LED's that presumably lit up when touched.  To the right and left were five separate rooms, but Marlon could only make out an X-Ray emitter in one and a CAT scanner in another.  Those rooms were dark and only illuminated by one red standby light each and the green LED on each computer monitor.  Five steel examination tables were spaced evenly over the inch-wide brown tiles and drains.  Where the group entered, two fluorescent fixtures shone brightly, but no others were active.  Their light carried over as far as it could toward the back of the room, which was bathed in red light like a darkroom.  When Wick flipped a switch on the wall, the rest of the fixtures illuminated, and the room looked like a standard science lab.  He walked to the third and last room on the left and flipped a switch inside.

"In here, please," he said.

The walls were painted a pleasant blue, but white cabinets were fixed all around the ceiling and floor to block most of it, giving the appearance of a large doctor's office.  Each side was about fifteen feet long, and a long window revealed the rest of the lab.  A large examination bed was set up in the center of the room, and Earhart brought metal chairs from other side-rooms.

"Do you want to sit down?  Lay down?  Stand?  Take your pick," said Earhart to the aliens.

"I'll just stand here," said Twilight.

"Me, too!" said Pinkie cheerily.

The rest sat down and Wick shut the door.

"Welcome to the R.R.F.," he said to the aliens as he sat down.  "I know this doesn't look like much of a scientific examination, but we're starting from the ground-up on this.  Before we begin, do you have any questions?"

"Yeah," said Pinkie.  "What kind of a lab is this?  It's all creepy and secret and stuff.  Much different from Twilight's lab."

"Pinkie!" snapped Twilight once more.

"Don't worry, it's fine," said Wick.  "We have to keep this place secret because there are a large amount of humans out there who... go crazy at the thought of animal testing, whether painful or not.  They have legal status and would sue us if they found out.  Some may even go so far as to hurt us personally.  Some science labs have even been burned down by those maniacs.  Amazing at how small the public interest in science is."

"That's horrible," said Twilight.  "I performed tests on animals all the time back on Equestria and never ran into any maniac problems."

"Sounds like a nice place to live," said Wick.  "Any other questions?"

"I wanted to give you these biology books; they might help you out," said Twilight as she levitated the books to the counter beside the scientists.  Their eyes nearly exploded from their sockets.

Earhart picked up one of the books (On Pony Anatomy:  11th Edition) and opened it to the table of contents.  He flipped to a nearby page and found two diagrams of a full-grown pegasus:  one of muscles and one of bones.  Subsequent pages showed close-up diagrams of wings and horns, the subdermal phenomenon known as "the Cutie Mark," and cross-sections of major organs.  Earhart placed the book back on the counter and picked up another one:  "The Definitive Book of Equestrian Pathology:  4th Edition."  Inside were full-colored pictures and cross-sections of bacteria and viruses, along with their symptoms, cures, and prevention methods.

"One of the things I studied at home was whether or not other species could contract our diseases.  They can't, so I wouldn't be too worried about catching any of those," said Twilight to the amazed scientists, who were staring over a page describing a disease known as "the Feather Flu."  The overview read:  

This blood-borne, semi-sentient disease only affects pegasi.  It latches on to blood cells immediately upon contraction and rearranges them into wall-like structures in front of the blood vessels leading to the wings so that it can feed on muscle tissue without much interruption from antibodies.  The host experiences prolonged bouts of extreme pain over a three-day period, which has been described as 'a brutal pins-and-needles sensation crossed with implosive muscle spasms.'  Since this pathogen can only reroute blood cells once due to its low energy, the clots will eventually weaken and be destroyed by high blood pressure, allowing antibodies to kill it off.  No instant cures are known, but the duration of the affliction can be lowered with an intravenous injection of pure lime juice, which will acidify the blood for a short period of time to dissolve the clots more quickly.  In order to prevent the spread and contraction of this disease, needles should not be used by more than one pony, and fresh blood should not be handled while there are lacerations (even small ones) on the skin.  The disease can not exist in dried blood or any other bodily fluid.

"That sounds horrible," said Wick.

"Oh, it is.  Once, the entire Wonderbolt team fell sick with it at once.  They're an elite group of athletic pegasi that perform in extreme aerial stunt shows, in case you're wondering."

"How'd they all get it at once?" said Earhart.

Twilight moved more closely to them and said quietly, "They were loading themselves up with steroids before a big show since their practices had been cancelled, and the pony they bought them from must have filled bad syringes.  But never tell Rainbow Dash about this.  She worships the Wonderbolts, and would be incredibly depressed if she finds out they cheated."

"How did you know about it, then?"

"When I was visiting Rainbow Dash in the hospital (she had a broken wing), I heard one of the doctors mumbling about it to a nurse in the hallway."

"Oh yeah!  I heard that, too!  Except he wasn't in the hallway.  We heard it while we were passing one of those exam rooms.  After that, I also heard some smoochy sounds and the nurse started makin' these weird noises.  She was makin' the same sounds I do when... OOOoohhhhhh... THAT's what they were doin!  Wonder why I didn't realize that before?"**

Twilight glared at Pinkie.  Marlon could not help but quietly chuckle at the realization.

"Well," said Wick," shall we begin?"

"OK,"

"Yuppie!"

Wick brought down a clipboard (pre-loaded with "fancy graphin' paper," as Marlon would humorously have called it), a pencil, and two heart-monitor watches from a cabinet.

"How are your hearts powered?"

"Short electric bursts, why?"

"Well, ours are as well, and if your skin is conductive, these watches will monitor your heart rates for the testing period.  Hold out a front leg so I can strap it on,"

Heh-heh.

Twilight complied, and Wick mumbled to himself as he fastened the watch:  "Skin seems completely smooth.  No sensory hairs visible.  Tight-fitting around muscles.  OK, then!  Is that too tight?"

"No, it feels fine.  I used to have one of these, but it didn't monitor my heart rate.  Only told time."

The watch read:  "63 B.P.M.," but occasionally shifted to 64.

"Does that sound right to you?  The 63?"

"Yes, that's my normal rate, If I remember right.  The rates are genetic, though, so Pinkie's'll be different."

Pinkie held out her hoof and Wick fastened hers.

"That too tight?"

"Depends.  For me, it's fine, but if you put this on a tree (not one of those tiny little saplings-one of those really really big ones), it would probably suffocate!"

The watch read:  "190 B.P.M."

"Good God," said Wick.  "Is that really normal for you?"

"Sure, I guess.  Ya know, I've never thought about it before, but I guess it is a little low.  Hey!  That's the first time I've thought about it!  Shoulda brought my camera.  That woulda been a great commemorative photo-op!"

"I know that seems high, but don't worry; she was born that way.  Once, I read it at 310 when she was really hyper," said Twilight.

"Pretty sure that would kill one of us," said Marlon.

"There's more about it in the book, if you're wondering.  Our genes are probably far more complex than yours.  No offense, of course."

"None taken, since gene complexity doesn't correlate with intelligence," said Wick as he grabbed the clipboard and adopted a note-taking stance.

"Anyway, the thing that got us curious about how you work in the first place was your excrement; we analyzed the residue from your feet last night to be sure it wasn't toxic."

"What's so special about it?"

Earhart pulled two Hershey bars out of an inside shirt pocket and said, "Any volunteers?"

"OOH!  ME!  ME!  I like trying new things!" blurted out Pinkie.

He handed her the bar, which she gripped by twisting her hoof around it.  Earhart kept one for himself.

"Just hang on to that for a min...," said Earhart.  "How are you gripping that with no fingers?"

"Mild telekinesis centered around the hooves.  It's a basic magic power every pony's born with," said Twilight.  

Pinkie skimmed over the back of the wrapper silently while Wick began.

"Well, our excrement is toxic if ingested, and we wanted to know if yours was, too."

"Why's that so important to you?"

"I assume you haven't told them yet?" he asked Marlon.

"I told them that chocolate exists....  I didn't want to be the one to bring it up."

"Would you kindly open that wrapper?  This way you can find out for yourselves," said Earhart.

Twilight stared at the bar for a moment, then tore off one end with magic, then peeled the sides halfway down.  Pinkie inhaled, then adopted a puzzled expression.

"Is this that chocolate stuff you were talking about yesterday?"

"Indeed," said Earhart as he opened his wrapper.  "Depending on the individual ingredients, this can be quite a valuable material."

"Is that why you keep it in those wrappers?"

"Yes, and the wrapping also serves to preserve freshness.  Otherwise, we couldn't do this."

Earhart took a large bite out of his bar, chewed, and swallowed.  Both the aliens' pupils grew to enormous sizes, and Wick's followed when he saw that the watches both read "0."

"You've... got... to... be... kidding... me...," said Twilight slowly.

"It's edible?  I never knew that!"

"Chocolate is a mass-produced delicacy on Earth.  There are multiple types, such as:  white, milk, dark, extra-dark, semisweet, bittersweet, bitter, and baking."

"Do you use it in cupcakes?" asked Pinkie.

"That's an... odd question, but yes, it can be used for cupcakes."

Pinkie moved it closer to her face and inhaled again.  The heart monitor read:  "190."

"Hey, look at that!  Every one of those little boxes says 'Hershey's' on it!"

"It was made on a machine that stamps that word on it.  The company's founder was Milton Hershey, so they put his name on the bars."

Pinkie continued to stare at the bar curiously.

"Want to try some?" asked Wick.

"I dunno.  You've got me curious, but something seems so wrong about it.  What would you do, Twilight?"

"I... I don't know.  It's... so weird!  Why would you eat this?"

Hers read:  "32."

"Because it tastes good," said Earhart.

"Reason enough for me!" said Pinkie as she took a bite.  She chewed slowly as her pupils grew to nearly eclipse the rest of her eyes.  "0" again.

Silence.

"It's delicious," said Pinkie under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Twilight.

"60" for Twilight.

Pinkie swallowed and restated with slightly more volume, "It's delicious!"

She took another bite and chewed slowly, then swallowed.

"H... how did I not know about this?  It's the best thing I've ever tasted!" Pinkie said softly, as if coming to a monstrous epiphany.

"100" for Pinkie.

"You can't be serious," said Twilight.  "Is that stuff really made of the same ingredients as...?" she said to Wick.

"Ironically, yes.  We thoroughly analyzed it."

Twilight stared back at Pinkie's bar with a trance-like expression, as if the bar was subconsciously calling to her to try it.

"You've gotta try this!" said Pinkie as she shoved the bar up to Twilight's mouth.  "I know you're probably scared, but you'll change your mind, I assure you!"

"I've never heard you say 'assure' before," said Twilight.

"It's 'cause I really mean it!  I'm not afraid to use big words at a moment like this!  This is life-changing!"

Twilight inhaled, then sighed.  She closed her eyes and said, "For science!" as she took a small bite of the bar.  Immediately, her eyes flipped back open and stared down at the bar in her face.

"0."

She took another small bite and chewed as Pinkie had.

"What do you think?" asked Earhart.

"It's... it's... good," she said quietly.  "There's no way!  How is that possible?"

"Your digestive systems obviously work in different ways than ours do, forming synthetic cocoa powder and sugar as products.  Unlike ours which manufacture solid bacteria."

Wick scribbled on the clipboard and tapped it idly as he mumbled to himself:  "Responds to shock with increased pupil size, complete heart stoppage.  Vastly differing heart rates.  Can be convinced to try new things... human-like differing personalities."

"Huh?" asked Pinkie as she grabbed the bar from Twilight and bit in again.

"You've just experienced a basic, qualitative test of shock response.  Fortunately, Mr. Marlon hadn't told you what we really use that stuff for, so the shock was genuine."

"Whatever you do, don't tell Rarity about that.  She'll have a heart attack!" said Twilight.

"It seems so cruel to let her miss out on this!  I've gotta start using this in my recipes!"

"Your hearts stop when in shock.  How is a heart attack for you any different?"

"Our hearts stop, then begin to beat at a backwards pace, causing more blood to flow through smaller veins until... boom."

Every human's jaw dropped at the mention of "the bends from Hell."

"However, they're extremely rare.  So much so that I only know about them from ancient books; I don't believe any have happened in my lifetime.  And Pinkie?"

"Yup?"

"You might not wanna use that stuff in the recipes.  Who knows what would happen if the rest of the ponies found out?"

"Aw, what do they care?  They don't know half the stuff I put in the cupcakes already.  Yesterday was the first time I mentioned the lard.  Besides, won't they find out soon enough that the humans eat it?"

"Well, yes, but... something's so wrong about that!"

"Wrong, but tasty!"

"What if they do find out you're using it?"

"I'll tell 'em it's some Earth plant!"

"They'll know what it smells like, though."

"Lotsa stuff smells like our body fluids!  Remember that punch I made for that party on the ship?  I didn't use sugar-water for it!"

"What did you... for some reason, I don't want to know."

"Fine, but you're missin' out!"

"We'd like to know," said Earhart.

Pinkie walked over to them and whispered to Wick, then to Earhart.  Their eyes widened.

"Do you wanna hear, Mr. Marlon?"

"N... no thanks."

I already know.

"Do you think you could give us a sample?  We could find out if there's a tastes-like/actually is trend here."

"You guys got a bathroom here?" she whispered.

"Yes we do."

"No problemo, then!"

Twilight stared at Pinkie and the scientists blankly as they chattered about various bodily fluids.  She held a perfect poker face and, so far, had showed no signs of emotion or deep distress.

Except for the part about the sugar water.

If what Twilight said was true, she had read far too many books to not know the properties of her own vaginal fluids.  Marlon was intrigued as to what made her nervous, and could imagine multiple possibilities.  She could be a nymphomaniac like Luna, hell-bent on keeping her urges secret.  Or did not want to be the one to explain how sex works to the scientists.  Or she could be so disgusted that she had sipped Pinkie's juices that she tried to deny it altogether.  Or maybe it was-

Please fix my mom's brain!

-blind fear of the subject.  Her simple pursuit of knowledge had lead to-

You've just bought yourself a one-way ticket to Hell, you arrogant MONSTER!!

-...painful experiences.  Years of study had eventually led to... experimentation, which resulted in-

MAY GOD CONFINE YOU TO THE DEEPEST PIT OF HELL, YOU UNHOLY ABOMINATION!!  HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF MY SON, YOU MESSENGER OF BELOW?!  BY THE POWER INVESTED IN JESUS, I SMITETH THEE!!!

-and fear of physical pain each time something remotely sexual was uttered....

The third option made the most sense.

Please, don't let me be the only one....

Marlon stewed in his thought-juices for a few moments, then saw Earhart get up and walk out the door with Pinkie.

"Follow me," he said.  Through the window, Marlon saw him detach a rolling machine from the adjacent wall, then wheel it towards the main lab's door.

"What's that thing he's taking with him?"

"That's an E.E.G.  He'll use it to monitor Pinkie's brain activity."

"I've heard about experiments like this done in M.R.I. scanners.  Why not use that?"

"Because we're not sure if the precursory injection will be toxic to their bodies.  We're starting from the ground-up here, so a ground-up method is what we'll use.

So Twilight, while Pinkie's away, do you think you could explain more of that book to us?"

---

"That one there," said Earhart as he pointed to a door on the left side of the hall.  Pinkie pushed down the handle and walked inside.  Earhart followed with his machine and a large beaker.  He flipped the lightswitch on.

Had Marlon been present, he would most likely have commented that it was the strangest bathroom he had ever seen.  The walls were fashioned of cinder blocks painted red, and the two stalls of splintery particle board and cheap screw-on hinges, most likely selected from a promotion bowl near a hardware store checkout line.  Two sinks with respective mirrors mirrored the stalls at an odd angle, giving the hand-washer the illusion that the glass would fall on them any moment.  An Excel dryer (the sort which Marlon had affectionately named, "air force dryers") hung on the wall far to the left of the door, which was equipped with a Clean-Escape bar (which was ironic, since the door needed to have its handle twisted to open.  Earhart had secretly equipped the bar with a pressure sensor and counter as a basic experiment to measure how many of the scientists were conscious of germs on the subconscious level.).  One dim, caged fluorescent light fixture above the sinks illuminated the room from its black support beam attached to the black rafter attached to the slightly-higher black ceiling, which came complete with a small speaker, that was quietly playing some obscure, steel-guitar-saturated country tune.

"Is this what your bathrooms normally look like?" asked Pinkie.

"No- this one's a bit different.  One of our researchers (you haven't met him-his name's Tom Kelmer) came up with a hypothesis a few months ago:  does the rustic, southern-style bathroom make someone's bowels move more easily?  From there, we built this room, vaguely reminiscent of a restaurant I used to occasionally visit when I lived in Texas."

"The only part of that I understood was the part about Texas.  And I'm not even sure where that is!"

"It's a part of this country, but far south of here.  It'd be quite a feat to get there without a plane."

"What's a plane?"

"It's a big machine that helps humans fly to far-away places so they don't have to walk or drive."

"Is that one of those reflective birdy-things with the wings that just stay in one place and that farts out a trail of clouds?  'Cause I saw a bunch of those flyin' around when we first landed."

"Yes.  That's it.

Now, we can perform this test in one of two ways:  one, I observe you firsthand, or two, you go into a stall and I observe secondhand, with only the E.E.G. to tell me anything."

"I guess it doesn't really matter, as long as you lock that door first.  I don't want to freak anybody out passing by with this."

"Can do" Earhart said as he pushed the lock button.

"So now what?"

"Well, do you like to... sit down or stand up for this sort of thing?"

"Ya know, I've never really thought about it before, but I guess I prefer to lay against a wall or something like that, but I've tried all the other ones and they feel just as good!"

"OK, then, you can just lean against whichever side you want, and I'm gonna put this on your head," he said as she sat down at the left wall (far enough from the dryer so that her head would be unscathed by the horrific air blast).  He wrapped the E.E.G. band around her forehead and attached additional electrodes.

"What's that thing do?"

"This'll monitor your brain waves.  Our new machine lets me observe the readout on a screen attached to the other side of this box."

He plugged in the box and turned the screen on, which showed a digital version of a wave chart in brilliant green.  The readings appeared as a normal human's would have, which Earhart found odd, since Pinkie was habitually hyper.

"OK.  All you have to do is make sure you ejaculate in this beaker here."

"Okie dokie!" she said as she placed the beaker between her legs.

"You can start whenever you want."

"Alrighty!" she said, but then sat still and made no further movement.  This continued for ten seconds until the skin between her legs retracted seamlessly into her abdomen like a razor blade being placed into the bottom end of its dispenser, and Earhart became the second human to ever view a pony's vulva.

"Just had to concentrate for a bit there," Pinkie said quietly.

She began to place the tip of her hoof around her clitoral area, and as she made contact, a barely audible sound was emitted.  Earhart flipped his head around to the door, believing he had heard a block of wood fall onto some other resonant surface, possibly from another lab.

Another sound.  It seemed to come from nearby, but was distant and muffled.  It could not have been Pinkie, for she was slowly rubbing herself as a human female would.

Again.  Still distant, but slightly closer.  Were multiple labs working on the same thing?

Pinkie emitted a small sound from her mouth-a high-pitched "MM!"

Another sound, still dull, still resonant.  Pinkie's brain waves were becoming stronger.

Two sounds in a row.  Three.  Four.  They were evenly metered, and Earhart now knew what the now-clear sound was:  Twilight walking down the hall.  He did not know why Wick would have sent her out here, but she must have been frightened of being alone in this new scenery, since her steps were slow.

"Hold on a sec," he said to Pinkie, still rubbing, still scrunching her face in and out, but emitting no semblance of moaning.

He opened the door enough for his head to reach through, and stared down both ways.

No Twilight.

Where could it be coming from?  Out here it seemed to be coming from inside the bathroom, but the machine's whirring was soft and the speaker was soft and the light fixture's humming was soft and Pinkie's sounds were soft.  Why was this sound sourceless?

He decided to continue observing Pinkie.  Her legs were contracting and releasing slowly under the pressure, and her strokes came more quickly.

So did that damned sound.

He looked around the room a final time before perishing the thought, then noticed that the meter of the sounds matched Pinkie's movements.  Each time she stroked, a sound was emitted.  The muscles inside her must have grown so tight under the pressure that every impact resulted in a... sort of "clopping" sound.***

But why did it come from different directions?

As Earhart began to question what evolutionary purpose that sound would serve, her remembered that the female arousal moans seemed to serve an equally nonexistent purpose.

The strokes grew stronger, the brain waves higher.  The heart monitor read 230.  She was nearing orgasm.  Her tongue began to hang out of a dumb smile under half-closed eyes.  It made Earhart remember the first time he had ever ejaculated.  He had been looking at one of his brother's girly magazines in his closet with the admiration of an art critic, when his penis decided it no longer fancied being trapped in sweaty underpants and tried to stand up to break free.  But when he tried to silence it by placing one leg over another to push it down, he realized that that was exactly what his dick had wanted him to do.  He obeyed multiple times, then his dick decided it was not meant for power and sneezed all over his shorts.  He would never forget that beautiful clamping feeling he had felt so many years ago.  It was the best feeling he had ever felt aside from having real sex numerous times in college.  Seeing Pinkie near climax made his gadget stiff with sweet reminiscence.

Good God, this is awkward.

Her cheeks became blood-red as she began to hold her breath, making her heart rate increase to 300... 302... 304... 307...-

"MM!"

-308... 310.  The E.E.G. was stacking tall, nearly-vertical lines on top of each other at an astounding rate.  The tracks on the screen closely resembled tracks on a sound editing program.  Earhart pulled out his pocket notebook and began to scrawl down his observations, but left a large space at the bottom for the orgasm symptoms.

Pinkie lifted the beaker to her vulva and contracted her legs one final time, the motion corresponding with her tight jaw, violent shivering, and vocalization:  "Hold... it down...."

"What was that?"

"H... hold the beaker... up to me....  Can't hold... longer...."

Earhart complied, all the while thinking to himself, It's for science-it's for science-it's for science!

Pinkie began to shiver more violently than before.

"G... grab my b...butt.  U...use it f...f...for leverage...."

It's for science-it's for science-it's for science!

Pinkie's body "jumped" three inches into the air and fell down again.  Then back into the wall and up four.  Down again.  Her middle body began to expand two feet outward in all directions, like a giant balloon, which pushed her away from the wall.  She "deflated," but her face began to jump in all directions, making bizarre, tight facial expressions, the pupils dilating and contracting quickly, the jaw tightening, relaxing, and tightening again.

"Come on... just... r... rub my vagina one last time... that'll set it off for good."

For science!  For science!  

The texture was remarkably similar to a human female's genitalia, but he had only a second to experience it.

"Put... your fingers... IN!"

"But I-"

"N...Now!"

It's for science!  I am only getting hard with sweet reminiscence!

He placed his two forefingers in the vaginal opening, once again with a remarkably similar texture to a human female's genitalia.

"B...brace yoursseEELLFF!"

---

"Did you hear that?" asked Marlon.

"Hear what?" replied Wick.

"...It was a bit of a blasting sound... like one of those handheld pressure-washers or air jets."

"Are you sure?"

"It could have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard something... ever so faint though."

"Do you think it was a pipe bursting?" asked Twilight.

"I doubt it.  We keep the plumbing down here in top shape.  Just had the pipes inspected recently."

"Do you think it had something to do with Earhart?"

"What could he possibly do that would make that so-"

Wick flipped back from the section on pony bones to the table of contents.  He found a chapter with his finger and flipped to it.  He read for a few moments.

"It may very well have," he said, directing the other two's attentions to the page with a massive cross-section of a vagina printed on it.  The section he was pointing to read:

Due to genetics, each pony's orgasm symptoms vary, but a small amount of subjects have been known to emit an extremely forceful blast of fluid from their vaginal openings upon climax.  The fastest blast known was clocked at 20 Wp, but undocumented stronger ones may exist.

"What's 'Wp?'" asked Marlon.

"Wing power.  It's a measurement of speed gauged by how many times a pegasus can beat its wings in a tenth of a second.  It was standardized hundreds of years ago."

"We'll just have to see what happens when he comes back," said Wick gravely.  "Let's hope he wasn't hurt in the process."

"Shouldn't we go to help him?"

"If it wasn't what we think it was, we might disrupt his observations.  He'll use the call-button in the bathroom if he needs help."

"I guess you're right," said Marlon, imagining what the call button in the bathroom would normally be used for.

Help!  Help!  I'm out of T.P.!

After five minutes of reading about alien genitalia (which was a refresher course for Marlon), Earhart and Pinkie came back to the lab.  Earhart re-latched the E.E.G. and Pinkie walked into the exam room ahead of him.  Pinkie kept her happy demeanor, but Marlon could sense a twinge of inebriated relief in her eyes.  When Earhart walked back in, Marlon saw that his right hand was slightly red and raw.  The sound had indeed been what they had envisioned, and Earhart's hand had stared down the force of something near 20 Wingpower.  In his good hand, he held the now-cracked beaker, which was half-full of a clear liquid, and the most insane E.E.G. printout Marlon had ever seen.  Most of the tracks had been painted completely black.

"Well, here it is," Earhart said wearily, placing both objects on the counter.

"Are you OK?" asked Wick.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine.  Needed a little extra... force to speed things along, as you can probably guess.  It's a little raw, as you can tell," Earhart replied, lifting his raw hand.

Twilight's horn began to glow, and the hand regained its normal color.  Earhart expanded his eyes into a bewildered expression.

"Basic healing power.  Just added back a new set of skin cells."

"Are they based off my DNA?"

"Yes.  The spell analyzes multiple, healthy skin cells, then clones them."

"How do you know if they're healthy?"

"The spell analyzes the surrounding cells, then determines what type is the majority, presumably the healthy ones.  Your skin was surprisingly easy to clone, but that's probably due to the chromosome difference."

"How deep can you heal?"

"I can only do cuts, bruises, nicks, scrapes, etc.  Celestia can heal internal organs much better."

Earhart examined his hand, which now had lost all soreness.  Every hand line was the same, and every hair was in its rightful place.

"This will revolutionize medical technology," he said quietly.

"What was that?"

"We need to find out how that works.  The entire course of medicine will be changed," said Earhart excitedly.

As the two scientists discussed the course of medicine with Twilight, Marlon pulled out his dead-zoned Droid to double-check his schedule for the day.  At three he had his pre-scheduled cabinet meeting, and the time was now 2:30.

Sore gums.****  Better get going.

"Hey guys, I don't want to rain on your parade just yet, but I have a meeting at 3, and I have to get going.  Twilight, can you send a message to Celestia to zap us out of here?"

"Pen and paper?" she asked.

Wick pulled a pen and a sticky note from a cabinet.  Twilight magically uncapped the pen, and wrote "Zap" on it.

"Wait," said Wick.  "Before you go, do you... do you think we could hang on to these two for a little bit?  There's so much more to learn!"

"I'm not sure if I should.  It's not that I don't trust you guys, it's... it's that I don't trust you guys.  Not necessarily you two, but those other people in the other labs who might get too headstrong.  I can't risk any painful tests on these two.  Celestia would freak out if she knew they were being hurt.  And by the way, why aren't the rest of the scientists here?  I'd think they'd be more interested."

"Have a little more faith in us, Mr. Marlon.  Remember, these are sentient, speaking beings.  Just like humans, we wouldn't do anything they won't consent to.  And... I know how odd this sounds, but... they were scared."

"Scared?"

"Of the aliens.  That's why they continued to work on their previous experiments.  We told them that we wanted to study the aliens and they became quite nervous."

The hypno-blast!  But what makes them immune?

"It's rather sad that we could be the only scientific entourage for today."

"I'll stay," said Twilight.  "I'll stay as long as you need," she said.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Twilight."

"Sometimes, science can be painful.  It's perfectly natural."

"But what about Celestia?  What will she think?"

Twilight scribbled on the note:  "I'm staying.  It's OK here."

"Can I stay too?  I kinda like this secret underground lair.  I want a secret underground lair!" piped in the recovered Pinkie.

"Pinkie too," Twilight scribbled.  She then zapped the note into nothingness.

"Don't worry, Mr. Marlon.  They're safe with us," said Wick.

"Besides, I can always zap another note if things get out of hand."

"See ya, Richie!" said Pinkie happily.

"But-"

---

The men had made decent progress on the bunkers, which was quite impressive, since Marlon had only been gone an hour.

"Don't worry, I got Twilight's message," said Celestia from somewhere behind Marlon.

"Are you sure about this?" Marlon said as he turned to face her, sitting with the same ponies she had been sitting with an hour ago.

"Twilight's an expert at sensing other ponies' inner characters.  Why shouldn't it apply to humans?"

"Because..."

Worked on Luna, didn't it?

"No reason."

"Don't sweat it, Sugarcube," said AppleJack.  Twi's gun' be juuust fah'ne."

"Well..., I have to get ready for a meeting.  I'll see you guys later."

"We'll be out here," said Celestia.

"Na's guy, I reckon," said AppleJack after Marlon had walked out of earshot, through the opening path between the Equestrians.

"Indeed," said Celestia, with microscopic uncertainty.

"He got tha Lewna Treatment, di'n't he?"

"Afraid so," replied Celestia.

"Sum'n in yer ah's gives it away ev'ry tahm."