IMPORTANT
A day shy of a week ago Robotech Master was out on his e-bike when an SUV struck him and drove off. According to the most recent news available, he passed away from his injuries at around 2:00 this morning. I have kept some news up on his user page and, at this point, ask that anyone wishing to leave messages or tributes do so on either his talk page or another page that can be used for such things. His account here and all of the stories he has gifted the Shifti community with will be preserved in memoriam, as we also did for Morgan.

User:Michael Bard/MMPs at Work

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MMPs at Work

Author: Michael Bard
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No further updates are expected.

“Merriweather, what are you doing?” Flora asked.

“My name is NOT Merriweather.”

“Of course it is!” Fauna responded.

“I’m tired of being the odd pixie out,” the blue clad winged woman responded, motioning vigorously with her magic wand.

“Watch it with that thing!” Flora screeched as her dress turned blue.

“You look better that way dear.”

“Hmph!” Flora flicked her magic wand and changed her dress back to pink.

“My name is Matter.”

“Matter?” Flora laughed. “That’s a silly name.”

“Well what else can I use? HE gave you two the good ones -- plant life and animal life.”

“Dears, let’s worry about that later,” Fauna interrupted. “We’re here.”

The three microscopic pixies hovered in place beside a torn, cracked, scratched, blackish-gray wall and looked up. Way up. Way way up. So far up that anything other than pixies couldn’t have seen that far up. In the distant reaches of magical pixie site the blackish-gray wall gave place to a tanned fur, each strand towering monstrously far far far (very far) (make that very VERY far) overhead.

“Now,” Fauna began, “shall we begin?”

Matter interrupted: “Fauna, there is a procedure to this.” She pulled a thick book out of thin air and opened it so that it hovered in front of her.

Flora turned to Fauna and whispered, “Matter, that’s such a silly name.”

Matter spoke in a loud voice: “I heard that! But never mind -- have work to do! Let me see now…” She adjusted the spectacles on her dainty nose. “It says here that we’re supposed to change this centaur,” she motioned with her magic wand and in a shower of sparks the endless wall began changing to a silver-blue colour, “into a silver-blue dragon. Everybody got that.”

“This won’t take 16 years will it?” Fauna asked. “That last time…”

“It’s done with and she looked better in blue!”

“Pink,” Flora muttered.

“Ah hum!” Matter spoke loudly. The other two fluttered a little closer as the silver-blue spread behind them. “I guess we should start with this thing,” she motioned back towards the silver-blue wall and more sparks flew and the wall turned blue-silver in a spreading pool. “Anybody know where we are?”

“I’m not sure … Let’s just put his head here,” Fauna said.

“We can’t do that!” Flora screeched. “Remember that Cubist fellow? Backwards feet where his arms should have been, head where his tail should have been… We had to fill out forms for years! Why--"

“It drove him around the bend dear,” Matter said.

Flora flicked her wand and a big chart appeared hanging in mid-air in front of which floated a 3-D hologram of a tan centaur. At the base of his left-hind hoof were three lights -- one blue, one pink, one red -- all flashing, and above the three lights were a flashing pink neon sign: YOU ARE HERE. “Aren’t you glad I checked Fauna?” she asked sweetly.

“Oh never mind!”

Matter decided this had gone far enough: “Well then, let’s start with the left rear foot. Everybody ready?”

“Can’t we sing?” Fauna asked. “We always used to.”

“Fauna dear,” Matter stated with exaggerated gravity, “singing belongs to the dark ages. Modern scientific study has shown us that singing simply wastes energy. All it requires is focus and the proper application of modern magical-physical methodologies.”

“Merryweather,” Flora said, “you spend way too much time at those seminars. I’ve signed every petition I’ve seen protesting nanite development--"

“And some in favour of it,” Fauna muttered.

“--and I know that we are prefect safe using the old ways. If you aren’t careful--"

Matter couldn’t take anymore, “Their day is coming -- they'll lick the heat problem and we must be ready! You have to know your enemy! Anyway, let’s transform this hoof to a foot!”

Flora rolled her eyes.

Oblivious Matter continued, “On the count of three. One… two… three!”

And with that all three pointed their magic wands at the blue wall in front of them and a continuous stream of magical particles popped into existence and sped towards the hoof and impacted. Almost instantly the wall began to change, stretching, changing from blue to silver-blue, bulging outward as it exploded into toes and claws and scales. The three pixies quickly flew backwards to stay out of contact with the expanding surface.

“My but this is hard work,” Flora muttered.

“Dear, “ Matter said, “we all have to do our part. This is the way the world is. The is the way of the Magical Microscopic--"

“I can’t keep it up anymore!” Fauna wailed.

And with that the stream of magical particles sputtered and halted.

“Something’s wrong here,” Matter said. “It shouldn’t be this hard.” The book moved in front of her and turned a page as Matter fluttered over to start reading. “Bard…male…writer…very bad writer…dropping out…”

Flora flicked her wand at Matter and Matter’s dress turned from blue to pink.

“…Cubist…TSAT…” She stopped reading. “Somebody hates us dears.”

“Why?” the other two asked in chorus.

“This one’s a shapeshifter.”

The monstrous green dragon foot began shrinking back into a monstrous blackish-gray hoof, shrinking away into the distance as it did so.

“Of course they give US the tough ones!” Fauna screeched. “One little mistake…”

“You think they’d have forgiven us by NOW for telling the unicorns they weren’t wanted on the ark!” Flora shouted. “They even made us watch that bitch for 16 years!”

“She was quite nice, especially at the end…” Matter reminisced.

“I STILL haven’t gotten the brown crap she expelled out of my dress!” Flora screamed. “Look at it!”

“I’ve seen it already dear,” Fauna stated with extreme patience. “You’ve shown it to us enough times.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Matter interrupted. “Once we’re done this transformation we can go back into the anti-nanite picket. An easy job for a few years.”

“Merryweather,“ Flora said. “Where’d the centaur go?”

“Huh? Where… Hey! Flora, I’ve told you and told you to LEAVE MY DRESS ALONE!” She flicked her wand and her dress turned from pink back to blue.

Fauna rolled her eyes. “If the two of you will look over that way,” she pointed with her wand, “you’ll realize that our centaur has changed his foot back to a hoof.”

“So?” Flora asked. “Why isn’t it here?”

“Why…? Oh.” Matter suddenly realized what had happened. “Flora dear, his left hind leg is much smaller in diameter than the dragon leg we made for him. It’s a simple application of calculus. If you--"

“Now now!” Fauna screeched. “Let’s get back there -- we don’t have time for this.”

And with that the three of them zipped back to beside the monstrously huge hoof.”

“Everybody ready?” Matter asked. “On the count of three. One--"

“That’s not going to work,” Fauna said. “The same thing will happen that happened last time.”

“We need to apply scientific methodologies!”

“Don’t say that word!” Flora said.

Fauna continued: “We don’t need that here. I think we need to try a major change. Something that will distract him.”

“If we construct a lathe…” Matter continued obliviously.

“A lathe?!” Flora burst out.

Fauna flew over and tapped Matter on the shoulder with her wand. “You’ll get to build your lathe after the nanites are put in their place.”

Matter glared, her face compact and solid, not liquid or gaseous. With her hands against her sides she continued, “What do YOU suggest then?”

Flora sang out: “Wings. Cuter feathered wings.”

Matter turned to her. “A dragon’s wings are NOT feathered! The vast majority of internet art--"

“But feathered wings are prettier.”

“We’re not here for pretty! We’re here to apply scientific magical principals and fulfill the terms of the contract we were saddled with!”

Fauna burst out, “I think wings would work.”

“Huh?” the other two asked.

“If we transform both his arms into wings, that might distract him enough so that we can finish the job.”

“Fauna dear,” Matter said with all the gravity that had attended her ever since she changed her name, “he is a centaur. His arms must become his forelegs, and his forelegs must become his wings. It’s all in Gray’s Magical Anatomy!”

“Are they feathered?” Flora asked.

Fauna responded, oblivious to Flora: “I don’t care what your MODERN books say, I say that his ARMS become wings. It’ll all be fixed anyway when the transformation is comple--"

“But that’s sloppy work, against scientific principles! Applying the rules of magical anatomy, his forelimbs MUST become wings and his arms MUST become forelimbs! It’s all in Darwin!”

“Matter, Darwin was a human and dealt with E-VO-LU-TI-ON. We deal with MA-GIC.”

“That doesn’t matter! There’s a right way and a wrong way--"

“If we change his forelimbs to wings, he’ll fall down and that’ll be a better distraction,” Flora burst out.

Matter spun around to face her. “Flora, draconic wings are NOT feather--"

“Hey, she’s right. Matter, I agree with you. Forelimbs to wings it is. You’re right.”

“I’m ALWAYS right.”

Both Flora and Fauna rolled their eyes.