Confused shambles of sleep gave way to muted street noises outside. Lazy sun rays crawled into the window like a jaundiced slug and I felt the room become warmer. Unwilling to wake up to yet another tiring day, I rolled towards the wall, pressing my face into the pillow. Still, the blissful sleep wasn't returning as I gradually became aware of my surroundings. Something wasn't right.

Tarrying as much as I could, I grudgingly rolled over to face the room and squinted my bleary eys to survey my surroundings. I was in my room, obviously, with its usual mileau; at least, usual for the last few months. In the nearmost corner a heap of old clothes spilled from the open wardrobe, like the guts of some disemboweled monster, with my red jumpsuit resting at the top. In the opposite corner sat a pile of old computer hardware and malfunctioning VR gear, punctuated with quite a few empty beverage cans. The calendar on the opposite wall showed Friday, meaning that today was Saturday. Which would explain the mess. Either that or depression, added the voice in my head. “Oh, come on” I replied, shielding my eyes from the light with a… hoof?

I sharply sat up on my bed and drew a quick breath. Fragments of yesterday night quickly spun in my mind. Inebriating myself with a good few drinks and stumbling home. Sending angry holos to all of my coworkers. I shuddered. Stomping out for the nearest Bureau. Going away on two legs, ambling back on four hooves, the stains on the floor testifying as much. My heart sank.

“Good morning, Alfred” - a familiar voice said flatly. I jerked and just now turned my attention towards the opposite corner of the room, where a squat table stood surrounded by office chairs. On the chair opposite from me sat a tall woman with keen eyes and a sharp chin, dressed in orange overalls. Aurora, my manager. “May I have your attention, please?”

Unsure of my footing, I slowly rolled over on my stomach and crawled out of bed, then awkwardly ambled towards the table.

“Hello, Aurora” - I said, somehow managing to climb onto an office chair. I looked up to her, unaccustomed to my new, much shorter height. A stuffy pause hung in the air.

“You know, I've been worried for you” - she said thoughtfully.

“You have?” - I said, unsure what to say.

“With all those messages you sent…” - she paused, “I thought you were going to…”

“kill myself?” - I finished in my mind.

“I mean, ‘farewell, my unbeloved naked apes’? Really?”

I shuddered as I remembered my drunken revelations.

“You know, I cannot really blame you” - she said, after a while.

“Oh…”

“With the oil running out - how long do have we have, really?” “Five, ten years? Our economy is nothing but oil, in the end. But Equestria is life. They don't use oil there. Not much, anyway.” 

“I thought we have at least fifty, and there are other…”

“Bullshit and propaganda” - she said suddenly and bluntly. “I was reading hypernet, not just RuNet. The goverment sugar-coats everything so that the we don't panic.” “The thing is, you did the right thing, but not in the right time and place. Have you thought what are you now?”

I blinked at her nervously.

“You are an illegal immigrant. A citizen of Equestria. Your old passport is invalid, and you cannot get a new one because you cannot cross the border.”

I drew a dejected sigh.

“But we'll figure out something: maybe we'll be able to still hire you as an independent consultant, if you work from home and don't tell that you are a pony.”

“Thanks” - I said, dumbfounded.

“I always liked you, you know.”