>Be Anon. Just anon, you don't need a fucking number.
>Some asshole, newly minted by the pleb detector just fell victim to it's ingenious design.
>By taking part of the Anonymous Census Bureau, the fool thought he could change his ways, and abandon his past life of what probably was just working all day and staying up until 3AM in the morning posting on 4chan.
>Bastard didn't realize that you can't choose the thug life, it's gotta choose you.
>Quid pro quo, OP sucks cocks.
>You get off your bench and walk over to his corpse.
>A quick rummage through his pockets yields a commemorative coin from Disneyland, one if those stupid index cards, and
Applejack's Parents in Pony Heaven!
>A room key! You're not homeless anymore.
>You run up the old dirt path to the Anon Acres, glad to have a warm bed for the night.
 
 
>Be Keith.
>The Bellhop?
>Are you kidding me, you weren't named earlier in the narrative?
>Welp, it's just like you expected. The newest arrival was a Class A Polesmoker.
>Good thing you already took a shit in his room's toilet.
>That'll learn him to not mock wageslave's uniforms.
>Wait, if you're not getting paid, how could you be
>That thought is interrupted by the arrival of some anon in a shitty winter parka.
>"Hey there! I'll just be heading up to my room. Set a wakeup call for tomorrow morning at 10o'clock. Don't want to miss the Continental Breakfast. I'll be in room 12."
>And he's already heading upstairs. Wait, room 12? Isn't that the newbies room? And haven't you seen that guy before today? Meh, as long as you get paid on time, you don't care.
>Wait, you don't get...
>Be Nowhere Man.
 
>Cool name, right?
>Fuck that old copypasta, the Beatles are amazing.
>Well, were amazing. Half are dead and you don't have any of their cds with you.
>Nevertheless, that's the name you chose when you filled out your ACB forms.
>And now that's what all the friends you've made in Equestria call you, too!
>How cool is that!
>Anyway, it's a new day in Ponyville, and you've got to go help best pony, in your opinion, set up for tonight's show.
>She's playing another Pinkie Pie party, this one is to commemorate Mayor Mare's 5th year in office.
>Mayor Mare sure does enjoy DJ Pon-3's hot jams.
>Especially when she manages to pull off a live remix.
>But to do that, she needs her specialized turntable set, which is kept in a storage locker way over across town from her and Octavia's house.
>Luckily, Anon Acres happens to be close by, so you're always happy to lend a hand.
>You don your chapeau of choice, an ACTUAL fedora. NOT a Trilby like all those pasty faced neckbeards wear.
>You also grab your keychain, with your room key - good old room 14 - the key to the Storage Locker, and your Record Keychain.
>It combines your two favorite things, DJ Pon-3's Cutie Mark, and Dave Strider's Symbol.
>It's a shame you never got to see how Homestuck ended, but you're sure it was Epic.
>As you exit your room, you bump into someone in the hall.
Oh, pardon me! I didn't see you there.
>The man in the Beat up Winter Jacket glances back at you as he continues down the hall.
>"Yeah, sure. Whatever."
>What a terribly rude fellow. But, it shall not spoil another day helping your very best friend.
>You follow him down the stairs, and where he turns into the dining area, you turn towards the front lobby, and by extension the front door, to make your way over to the Storage Facility.
 
>"Good morning, Nowhere Man."
Good morning, Kwikset.
>"Here to see Miss. Scratch's locker?"
You bet. She needs her Auto-Record Switcher Table for Mayor Mare's Five Years in Office party tonight.
>"Alright, I'll come open the gate for you."
Kwikset steps down from his chair and into his walker.
>It takes him a while to get around, him being an older stallion, but you don't mind the wait. You have plenty of time before you even need to start setting up.
>You begin to hum to yourself.
https://vimeo.com/32313020
 
 
>Be Anon. Goddamn, is this breakfast delicious.
>Good thing it's continental too, which supplies you with Griffon Delicacies such as Muffins and MEAT.
>What with Ponies being herbivores, thank goodness Griffons are a composite of two predators.
>As you sink your teeth into your third sausage, you think about how this makes up for the massive log the last guy left in his room.
>He knew he'd be out all day, how could he just leave it in there?
>Probably because he thought it'd only be him entering his room. Yeah, that makes sense you guess.
>While your mind is on the facilities, it drifts over to the shower you were very thankful to have.
>However, while your body is clean your clothes are not.
>Your pit stains dominate your entire sides, and your pants would be considered fashionable if they looked like that when they were sold. And were jeans instead of slacks.
>And your trusty Winter Coat, has more holes than Rarity could fill, that slut.
>Wait, that's it. You'll get Rarity to fix up your clothes.
>Wait, again. You rest your head in one hand while the other forks some scrambled eggs into you. You don't have any money. You guess you'll have to find work somewhere.
>Well, maybe you could appeal to her Generosity, after all that is her element. You wouldn't believe with how selfish she can get at times, though.
>Yeah, that seems like a good plan. And worst comes to worst, you could offer to trade services for "services" Hehe. Eugh.
>You down the last of your OJ and head out into town.
 
>Carousel Boutique is easy to find, as a few of your former fellow vagrant anons have set up camp just beyond fifty feet of the building.
>These are mostly Rarfags, but a few are here for someone else, hence the distancing.
>You make your way past the shantytown and into the Boutique.
>All the anons behind you watch with baited breathed.
>Several Minutes Pass...
>"AND YOU CAN JUST FORGET ABOUT ME EVER DOING ANY ALTERATIONS TO EVEN A SOCK. IF I EVER SEE YOU IN HERE AGAIN, I SHALL HAVE YOU DRAWN AND QUARTERED."
>"I WOULD SAY 'GOOD DAY, SIR', BUT I NEITHER WISH THAT FOR YOU, NOR BELIEVE YOU TO BE A GENTLECOLT."
>And she slams the door in your face.
>Well, that certainly could've gone better.
>You head back to the shantytown, wait a couple seconds, then head back up to the Boutique's door.
>You rap on the door, and put a slight affectation on your voice.
Pardon me, Miss Rarity?
>The door swings open.
>"WHAT DID I JUST SAY TO YOU, YOU COWARD, BULLY, CAD AND-"
I-I'm sorry, but this is my first time here. I was told you were a seamstress, so you could help me fix my clothes.
>"I... Oh, dear. You're a different Anon, aren't you? My apologies darling, I just had the most horrid altercation with some other, mmhm, person.
>You can see the disdain dripping in her voice when she says 'person'. You didn't know you could leave such a mark. At least she won't have to deal with 'that anon' any more.
It's fine, I can understand how some of these guys can be real assholes.
>"Perhaps a bit vulgar... but then again, no. Vulgarities are suitable to this individual. But, you're not here to listen to my airing of grievances, what do you need tailored?"
Just my winter coat. I've had this since I dropped out of college, so it's seen a lot.
>"Oh, but what about the rest of your ensemble? Your button up looks to be duotone by how much is stained, and your trousers are so frayed they may as well be a grass skirt for all the protection they provide."
I'm not really as attached to them as I am the jacket. But, if you have any other clothes for humans I'd like to take a look.
>"Oh, but of course. Since all you hyoomans have been showing up, I've had quite a good amount of business coming through. Though sadly, not many repeat customers. Although, there is that one fellow who bring in these garish pajamas from time to time. Ugh, you should smell the odor that comes off them. But then again, I wouldn't wish for the foulest of a foe to catch even the smallest whiff. Oh, but listen to me prattle on, let me show you to my selection of hyooman wear and then to a dressing room."
>She takes your coat and escorts you to a single rack of suits, all very similar with minute differences invisible to your untrained eyes.
 
 
>Be Keith again.
>The Bellhop, remember?
>It's been a quiet morning so far, which is a great relief from your usual amount of work.
>The only things to happen today are several anons and others leaving for their work, and the new new guy in room 12 scarfing down half the Continental Buffet.
>But, the peace is not to last, as you hear the familiar pitter-pat of manbaby feet.
>"Daddy! It's Cinny Crunch time!"
>It's time for the most loathsome part of your day to start. And it won't end until Jackson is back in his 'crib' in the boiler room.
Good morning, Jacky, I'll get your cinny crunch, just go sit down in the dindin room.
>"No, daddy, I wanna listen to the ragio while I eat!"
>You heave a sigh. Now comes the hard part.
Alright, that'll cost 3 Good Boy Points.
>Jackson looks back at you with a very serious expression on his face.
>"But I've been saving my GBP for a mini ice box, daddy. If I spend 3 points, that's 3 more I'll have to earn back!"
>Tears begin to well up, but you can see the fire burning behind them.
Uh, well Jacky, if you finish all your cerea- I mean cinny crunch without spilling any milk, I'll give you 4 points.
>The tears evaporate, and he calms down.
>"Fank you, daddy. I'll be in the ragio room."
>He lumbers off, and sits his fat ass down in his usual spot, that have become a grease stain in the carpeting by now.
>You go into the kitchen to make his bowl of cereal, and think about how you don't get paid enough for this.
>Wait, you don't get...
>Be Mr. Cool Ice
 
>Man, you almost wish, but no you're just plain old Oscar.
>Oscar Meyer, that is.
>That's right, thanks to Equestria's Greatest Designer, you have realized your dream to be an Oscar Meyer Wiener.
>However, the entire world is not in love with you, as they have no such product in horse land.
>You even tried branching out into other brands, but when you asked a Royal Guard if she wanted an Armor Hotdog, she just got all flustered.
>Their loss, to not value branding in their food products.
>Then again, the only places that really have hotdogs in steady supply, other than Anon Acres, is the Griffon Embassy so it's no wonder ponyville doesn't really know what the deal is with your outfit.
>But, the humor wasted is not your main concern right now. What is is the dead nigger outside city hall.
>He's not actually black, he's green like everyone else, but he sure does look stupid.
>You pick up the card left on the body, and see he is #12311.
>From what you've heard about Shirley's Transactions within the hall, he must be the most recent arrival.
>Oh, did you forget to mention?
>You're one of the few, the proud, the Anonymous Census Bureau Clerical Workers League, or the ACBCWL.
>Your carrying card looks a hell of a lot nicer than the shitty index cards you give out to people who choose to stay anonymous.
>You look back down to the doubled over corpse, and remember you've gotta clear the debris out of here. It's Mayor Mare's 5th Year in Office Party tonight, and she's your boss.
Hey, Ron.
>"Yeah, Oscar?"
We'll need the wheelbarrow to transport the corpse. It turns out he's just an anon.
>"Tsk Tsk Tsk, poor old sod."
Yeah, it's a real shame. He only just got here too.
>You show him the index card.
>"Wow, that really sucks." He looks over the body, "At least he died less painfully than most of the other newbies."
>You pause for a moment.
How could you know that?
>"Cause I'm looking at him."
No, I mean how could you Know that his death was any less painful than any other new arrival?
>"I've heard some serious shit from anons who try to make it outside of pony cities. Ripped to shreds by Manticores, Frozen by Wendigos, even Harvested by Changelings."
How is a harvesting painful? You know what, nevermind. The point is, choking to death on your own cock seems incredibly painful. Not just due to the choking, but also how the spine has to bend to even get the tip in your mouth. If I pulled his shirt off, you'd probably see bone bulging against his flesh.
>"Ehh, it just doesn't seem as bad as being worked to death in the Diamond Dog Mines or something."
>You are about to refute his point, when one of Mayor Mare's assistants walks out and starts yelling at you.
>"What are you two doing just standing around! Get the body out of the-"
>She sees the corpse and starts to pale.
>"I think I'm gonna be sick."
>And rushes off back inside Town Hall.
She's right. We'll continue this discussion later, for now get the wheelbarrow.
 
 
>Estás Anonymous.
>Usted ha estado atrapado en esta celda para quién sabe cuánto tiempo.
>Es realmente terrible lo que va a hacer de América frente a los extranjeros.
>Es aún más terrible que todavía actúan de esta forma en lo que es un coutry extranjero, incluso si todos los caballos hacen hablar Inglés.
>Que realmente tenía grandes esperanzas cuando llegó por primera vez. Ibas a ser un vaquero en Appleoosa.
>La gente escribe canciones populares de ti, y que habían introducir un nuevo lenguaje en el mundo.
>Pero no, estas personas tienen que ser tan envuelto en su propia vida que se consideran una molestia.
>Siguieron repitiendo "No Es Hora" a usted, ya que se ven obligados aquí.
>Pero lo peor de todo es su compañero de celda.
 
>You're name is Not Important.
>You're just some Nobody who happened end up in Talking Horse Land.
>They stuck you in this cell at least a whole year ago, as you were one of the first few humans to show up here.
>They keep calling you Anonymous for some reason, and saying you did all these things like paint a giant ass on the side of a barn, or molest an animal care specialist and some of her animals.
>What reason do you have to be here?
>Why should you be punished for things you never did?
>Over the past year, more and more crimes have been levied against you. What started as a night in the drunk tank has turned into 10 to life.
>Obviously, these horses don't have a good measure of your lifespan.
>One of them rushes past you into the restroom, and you can hear the dry heaving all the way out here.
>How do horses even have a gag reflex? All they eat is oats and hay.
>Speaking of diets, this prison food has done wonders for your physique.
>You look like you made the Charles Atlas transformation. From a scrawny weakling to an Adonis.
>They gave you some weights to keep you in form until the trials actually end. You think they're gonna sentence you to hard labor.
>You feel like maybe you should do something about this, but you can't really connect with who you were a year ago. You can't get in touch with that old sense of morals.
>You can't resist the temptation to simply break out of your cell. After all, tonight is some event celebrating the mayor. All attention will be elsewhere.
>It seems perfect, and you'll have to give it a shot.
 
 
>Be Nowhere Man again.
>Or rather, be "Going Nowhere" Man.
>Because that is the speed at which you are currently going, and the location.
>You've been stuck outside the gates of Kwikset's Storehouse Lockup for about 2 hours now.
>Even your patience has its limits, after all it takes an hour to move the thing, an hour to set it up, and then a variable amount of time to calibrate the operating arms, make sure the audio is balanced to DJ Pon-3's specific settings, and get all the records in the right order.
Mr. Kwikset? Are you in there.
>You immediately facepalm. Of course he's in there.
I mean, are you alright?
>You struggle to hear anything, but there is only the rustling of branches in the breeze.
Okay, okay. Let's think for a moment. Either he's fallen down and can't get up, or just can't hear me. If it's the latter, it'd be rude to intrude. It is private property. However, if it is the former, then I'm the only one who knows he's in there. And I'm the only one who can help him.
>You struggle with this Herculean quandary for a moment, and resolve to assist Kwikset by any means necessary.
>The front gate is too high to scale, and you don't want to break a window, so you circle around the building.
>There! The bathroom window is slightly ajar.
>You wedge your fat fingers into the crack, and heave.
>The window flies open, but the aperture remains to small for you to gain entry.
Confound it!
>You continue on, past the main building and into an alleyway.
 
>Meanwhile, Kwikset has finally reached the front gate and starts to go through the keys, failing to notice the absence of Nowhere Man.
 
>The alleyway narrows down as it goes along.
>But this is in fact the opposite of a problem!
>By simply employing your hardcore parkour skills, you can make your way onto the roof of the neighboring building and then over the fence.
>Then it is simply a matter of finding and assisting poor old Mr. Kwikset.
>You put one foot against the wooden fence, then the other against the brick wall, and slowly make your way up.
>It really takes a toll on you, so you have to catch your breath between each step.
This'll... take... awhile...
 
 
>Be Anon again.
>You look like you just came off the lobby floor, this suit's so nice.
>Time to break the news to Dress Horse.
Uh, Rarity. I have to ask you something.
>"Oh, don't worry Anonymous, I found a fabric that matches your Winter Wear perfectly. It'll be like you never wore it before today."
It's not that, you see I don't have a job so I've got-
>You swallow loudly to really lay it on thick.
I've got no way to pay for all this.
>She glances through the door way of her workshop.
>"Oh, dear. This does put a damper on things, because I've just finished covering the holes in your jacket."
>She displays her handiwork proudly, but with a somber expression.
>"It's such a shame, I thought this was a very good restoration."
Well, I mean, there must be some way for me to pay you back for it.
>Your hand starts to reach into your belt, but you let it rest there remembering what caused your first visit to fail.
>"Well, there might be a couple of things. Little menial tasks you can perform so I have more time to focus on my latest venture. I'm not only crafting a new line of dresses, but I'm split between here and the newest Carousel Boutique in Manehatten. Anything that you could do to help would be greatly appreciated, and perhaps if you do a good job I wont tear this precious sentiment into shreds."
Well, that's very kind of you Miss-
>Wait a minute.
>"Oh, don't stand there with that look on your face. Do you really think I'm simple enough to not be able to tell all of you apart? I've never seen any other hyooman with a jacket like this, so thinking that putting on a new voice will be enough to trick me is ludicrous."
>She places your coat into a closet in her workshop, and turns back to you, levitating over a scroll with several addresses on it.
>"I need a set of needles, new stand for one of my mannequins, several bolts of fabric need to be picked up from the depot, a daisy salad specially prepared for moi, and several other things explained in detail there for you."
>As you read the details, a bag of bits catches you off guard in the gut.
>"And I've already tabulated the cost of everything, so don't try sneaking off with the change. Now, go go go!"
>You are pushed out of the boutique with the door closing behind you.
>The crowd looks at you, saying nothing.
>You look back, and then leave going around them rather than through.
>The last thing you want is one of these maniacs finding out you got a job working with their waifu.
 
 
>You are, uhhh,
>Who are you again?
>You set down your pipe and pull out your card.
>As you do that, a whole bunch of pistachios fall out too.
Aw, sweet!
>As you eat some nuts, you look at the card.
>'Anonymous #1402'
>But you misread it as 'Anonymous #1, 420!'
Yeaaah. Ha ha...
>You do a finger gun at the card and let it fall from your hand.
>You look around and see you're in a tree.
>Like, not up it, but in a hollow trunk.
>There are a couple paper designs on the walls.
>Wait, if it's a tree are they really walls?
>Whatever, the papers are long strips folded together, like when people knit things.
>Your grandma used to knit you things all the time. Like sweaters and beanies and socks and slippers and pajama bottoms and mug cozies and, uhh, and...
>You can't really remember what else she made.
>The paper thing's got three colors on it, red, yellow, and green.
>Where have you seen a color pattern like this before?
>You try to think, but as you do you look around the tree some more.
>There's a pile of hay where you were sitting.
Is that the bed... or the kitchen?
>You start giggling a lot. Ponies love them some hay.
>You try to get back to what you were thinking of before, but you forget.
>You decide to grab your pipe and leave the tree.
>You step out into Town Hall's Central Courtyard.
Woah, how'd I get here from the forest so quick?
>"Like. you didn't come from the forest, Anon, you were just in our paper-mache tree we made for the Mayor's Celebration"
Holy shit, a talking horse!
>Tree Hugger chuckles a bit at your joke, and you start to giggle too without realizing it.
>You suddenly realize you gotta whiz really bad.
Hey, can you look after this for me.
>You set the pipe down next to her.
>"Oh, sure. I'll take good care of it. You go have fun with some of the other ponies."
>You shoot her a finger gun, and head into Town Hall itself, right past the portajohns.
>As you walk, you hear someone say "It's not like him to be late, and even if he were he'd at least say something, right?" and another voice say, "You can't keep hedging all your bets on this one guy, Vinyl, he's too weird." and the first one say, "But he's been really dependable so far! And he actually digs my sound, rather than fakes it to try and saddle up like other groupies!"
>In Town Hall, you walk over to the bathroom when this guy starts yelling at you from behind the bars.
>He's talking so fast you can't understand a word he's saying.
>Oh wait, shit, he's speaking spanish.
Donde esta es el Baño?
>He sighs, and points right behind you.
Oh, killer. Gracias.
>You go to relieve yourself.
 
 
>You are Jacky, and you'll be damned if your cover is blown.
>Your real name is Special Agent Jackson, and as part of the CIA's fight against deep web porn distribution rings, you have been placed as a deep cover operative on 4chan's notorious ROBOT 9000 forum.
>You've spent so long under cover, that you indoctrinated some of these poster's strange idiosyncracies into your everyday demeanor.
>As such, you stopped going to the office and instead set up a base of operations in your ailing mother's retirement home.
>However, this does not mean you would go so far as to ask your poor sick mother for anything, let alone see you in this state.
>No, you instead get what you need through the hospital's staff.
>Due to your mission requiring you to monitor every single post, you've taken up their practice of relieving one's self into empty soda bottles as well.
>However, complications in the mission have arisen. Upon following an offsite link, you found yourself in a completely new locale. You have concluded you were kidnapped by people you've been monitoring.
>So, now the cover gets even deeper, as you must maintain the persona of what many of them refer to as a "Frog Poster".
>You have yet to decipher the call signs they use yet, but as far as you can tell, a Frog Poster is an agent in training for whatever their ring is operating in.
>The only way to ascend into the next level is to gain enough "Good Boy Points" to "buy" a "Mini Fridge".
>You are almost certain a Mini Fridge is code for a storage locker where they keep both severed limbs, and kidnapped children.
>However, along with gaining these points, you must also act in the persona of a juvenile delinquent, as many of these people are "NEETS", which you know to mean Not in Education, Employment, or Training.
>It's not all conjectural, and so you must act on your worst behavior. Especially since you are constantly under the watchful eye of their ringleader, who calls himself "Daddy".
>You sit in the same position you have for the past 6 months, pretending to stimulate yourself to these strange broadcasts about an Indiana Jones-Type who is also a Horse. With Wings.
>The only thing you can think of that meaning is some cross between Heroin and Angel Dust.
>The program ends, and you slam a fist into the ground.
>Damn, why can't you find out what they're up to?
>You nearly topple your cereal bowl, but you save it.
>You need those Good Boy Points, you're only 37 away. If only there were some big thing you could do to prove to them you're ready for the next level.
>"Good job, Jacky. You didn't spill any." He is completely uninterested, but you act as if this was a great compliment. You clap your hands with glee, and grin like an idiot.
>Only 36 now.
 
 
>"-So, it just makes that much more sense. Every point you've made so far only supports my argument."
>You groan, and it turns into a growl.
There is no possible way! Absolutely none! It would make no sense to what we've seen so far!
>"You must be a pharaoh, if you have this much denial. It fits in perfectly, and guess what, next time we get called to the corporate offices, we'll skip out and ask her ourself."
You can't be serious.
>"As a heart attack on the sabbath."
Fine! We'll skip out on any and all responsibilities we may have to go to Canterlot Castle itself, SOMEHOW make our way in without ANY prior interactions with any member of Royalty, and ask Princess Celestia herself, 'Uhh, say Princess, is it true that you're gonna make Starlight an Alicorn too?'
>"Well when you say it like that, you make it sound impossible. You know a lot of royal guards! Just ask one of them to pass the message along!"
And what about our jobs?
>"I hate this job! I wish we'd never started doing it! Not enough people want to actually name themselves so the system can track them, so we end up wasting thousands upon thousands of forms to give people the runabout. If people actually cared about their Identities, we'd have more luck getting them jobs and there wouldn't be six separate slums in this town!"
Oh Celestia, you're right. The system is inherently flawed, just like back on Earth. How could we expect anyone from this godforsaken site to want to work, even if it is with who are nice without ulterior motives.
>"Well, maybe it's possible we're the ones who caused this."
...How so?
>"Maybe it's not about their devaluation of identity, but our stubbornness to not actually track Anons as they arrive."
>You pull out the card from the body you just left out in the Everfree.
>"Maybe if we start from scratch, convince our superiors to adopt a new method of registration into a real index, and encourage those already counted who really weren't to come back, we could rejuvenate the community enough so that when 'Anonymous #Whatever' dies, he's not just tossed out like garbage.
>You open your wallet and put Anon #12311's Card next to yours.
Well, it's certainly worth a shot.