//------------------------------//
// And In The End 
// Story: The Conversion Bureau: The Last Chapters 
// by Parcly Taxel 
//------------------------------//

Tock!
“Ow... that's the 19th time I've been poked in the wing, huh?” Ethan thought to himself, kicking and pushing against the purple and white blanket. “No, must have been the 20th.”

In the process of deciding his next move, two opposing princesses were conjured in his head. On his left was Celestia, pointing her right gold-shod hoof towards the sun she controlled every day across the pale blue sky, her eyebrows raised in anticipation. Luna stood still on the right. Her eyes were fixed on the moon she was once imprisoned in, and she extended her left silver-shod hoof towards the sleeping pegasus, obviously not bothering about her elder sister. Initially, Ethan sided with the latter, choosing to ignore those pokes and toss the blanket over his blonde mane – after all, his legs and wings were still crying for more rest. This time, feeling rays of daylight slowly immersing him in warmth, and then another poke, he opened his eyes. Surely, it had to be Pinkie Pie who had started all this, with her grin that did not understand downtime, and a collection of humour devices that encompassed everything in Equestria! No, Barry was staring straight at him, and the orange horn was left as the cause.

“Wait, why did you come here?” Ethan couldn't help but to discuss with the prankster. “I mean, you jabbed me twenty times while I was snoozing. Why?”
“You seem to be a sleepyhead, with an affinity for Luna!” Barry shuffled on the wooden floor, using telekinesis to press the pause button on an MP3 player hooked to his earphones. “So I decided to have a little fun for the purpose of waking you up.”
“Having a little fun? That was your move, so...” Trotting around the room and spreading his 14 feathers, a strange mix of uneasiness and familiarity swirled inside, and he let out a giggle reminiscent of Just For Laughs Gags. “Shall we have breakfast?”
“Obviously, we're having it soon. Besides, Jimmy's preparing the items today.”
“Oh.” Ethan facehoofed. “OK, then, we'll go down and see him with his guitar, eh? By any account, he's quick at everything.”

Like others in the town, the ponies had a two-storey house for themselves, but there were differences. Firstly, all four walls went straight up, and each ponies' bedroom had its own window, allowing Ethan and Barry to toast their eyes every day just looking at town hall. A microwave oven in the kitchen indicated how appliances invented by humans now facilitated everyday activities. Two certificates with Rarity's signature hung just beside the front door, which ironically bore the silhouette of a clueless human. Twilight had promised beforehand that it would be easy to adjust to – and indeed it was.

Outside noise was one part chirping critters, two parts ponies strolling over the town. The signal was two ponies going down the stairs, one smug and the other shivering, but both making clop sounds that brought clockwork to mind.
“That dining table can sit six- no, seven ponies, right?” Ethan stared at Barry, his eyebrows tilted. “If I include the sofas, that number gets-”
Crash, bang, thud. An infinitude of frequencies emanated from a single point, the individual waves rattling every beam of the woodwork, themselves imbued with passion that no robot could replicate. Passers-by froze. Ponymycin and a subsequent lack of fingers were only a slight increase in temperature for Jimmy – only a silly filly could call his notes off-key.
“That was awesome!” Howling at nopony, he turned around to see the guitar on his flank. “Now, where's Ethan?”
“Right here...” Hard throbs persisted in the pegasus' head. “The volume must go down, not up. Even in my soundproofed bedroom, I'm subjected to the grill nearly all the time you're strumming away.”
“That was 'The Final Countdown', and a real grill for sure!” Barry burst into tearful laughter once more. “Lavender sandwiches for breakfast, let's eat.”
“I've got company with a casual club of musicians.” Dropping his guitar, he circled the dining table before sitting down. “Rock and roll, in other words.”
“Then again, owing to my cutie mark being the wi-fi symbol, I've got one hoof on the radio operator's job – waiting for my interview. What about you, Ethan?”
“Er... undecided.” A frown showed, which gave way to a small smile. “However, seeing many ponified humans with blank flanks out there, I may help them.” Softly, like Fluttershy, he sang the words which had guided him all along:

The past is the past,
the future is the future,
and I live in the present,
for it is my time.

They were merely ponies, with the personality of humans.

They were the products of the Conversion Bureau.