White founts were falling in the courts of the Sun outside, seen through the ornate doors that overlooked the balcony and sculpted balustrade. Inside, magelights illuminated the manor reception room, bringing out the rich luster of polished mahogany bookshelves, tables and chairs, the intricate designs on carpets of soft wool woven by the Merino family of Esponia, and the Blueblood coat of arms above the marble fireplace.

At the center of the understated splendor sat two figures. One, the Majordomo, was a gaunt old stallion who looked as though he hadn’t been a horse in previous lifetimes and had only just avoided it in this one. He was dressed austerely in black, and silver locks ran down his back as his glacial blue eyes gazed down over the desk at the Applicant.

She was a small pony mare with large adorable eyes, a chartreuse coat of delicate shade, and an utterly iconic maid’s uniform, and she looked as if she was ready to bolt from the starting gate off to the far hills.

The Majordomo glanced at his papers. “You have recommendations from suitably high sources to command respect, but a lack of corresponding work experience. Might you care to explain this?”

The Maid drew breath to reply, but nothing came out. Her eyes simply grew wider.

The Majordomo raised one eyebrow. “Well…?”

The Maid shuddered under his gaze, then stared at the floor. “Well, I’m not really a maid, or a pony.” she said. “I’m an alien from another world.”

The Majordomo raised his other eyebrow but said nothing.

“I was at an anime con,” she continued, “and met a guy with funny eyebrows and a crooked grin, and he sold me a maid’s cap.  I thought it would look funny with my Venom outfit, you know? Well, I put it on, and [i]Bamf![/i] I was transported here, as a pony mare, in a maid’s costume. I can’t get rid of it; I can take it off long enough to wash it or have a bath, but it just reappears on my body.

“I’ve seen various magicians, unicorns, to try to undo the spell and send me home, but no luck. One had me clean her entire library before admitting she couldn’t help me but that I looked so cute… She was the one who recommended me to you, and helped me to write up the paperwork. So here I am.”

A frigid moment of silence crashed down between them. 

The Majordomo cleared his throat. “And you thought somehow, that when seeking a position with this noble house, on which so much trust resides, you would have the slightest chance of a job after spouting out such a ridiculous story to somepony you’d only just met…?”

The Maid winced. “I have these sudden bouts of self-damaging honesty. Works better than whips and bondage, frankly. I apologize for wasting your time, and I’ll show myself to the door.” She rose to her feet and began to back away.

“No, no, don’t leave,” he said. “You’re hired.”

She sat down again rather heavily on her round rump, sending a ripple through the plush wool carpet. “H-hired? Huh?”

The Majordomo smiled sadly. “Woodstock, 1969. I was standing there in my bell bottoms and Hendrix tie dye, when a fellow with—you said funny eyebrows? crooked grin?—sold me a tab of acid. I asked if it was real dope, and he said it would send me out of this world. It did, alright, it sent me here.

“The prior Majordomo, may his soul rest well, the one who saw through my pony false-front and hired me; he’d been at a party in Bangladesh in 1922 when a similar fellow slipped him the mickey. This isn’t a new problem. But it has become a tradition for the staff serving the nobles of this manor to welcome such refugees and give them a place to stay, and to start a new life of sorts. I still hope for some sort of solution to be found, though frankly at my age there is not much reason for me to go back…”

“That’s a little better than I’d expected,” said the Maid. “I hope I can learn enough about cleaning to justify your keeping me on.”

“Oh, you’ll only be doing a token amount of cleaning. Please come with me.” The Majordomo led the Maid down a long corridor, then took a turn down a dark staircase that led to a small wine cellar. He pulled a bottle out of a rack, reached down the hole and did something, whereupon a nearby door unlocked.

They descended further down long staircases, emerging in a well lit room, bright like fluorescent lighting. Many ponies were at work at benches, applying magic to gadgets and boxes of unknown contents. In the corner, the Maid saw what greatly resembled a classic motorcycle, and detailed models of aircraft hung from girders overhead.

“You’re reproducing Earth technology!” she said with delight. Several working ponies glanced at her, and winked.

“Correct!” smiled the Majordomo. “You might have wondered why Equestria has such archaic technology intermixed with modern and homey inventions such as radios and hydroelectric dams. With all the ex-human immigrants, we’ve formed a secret research lab, with discreet royal support, to translate Earth’s inventions into forms usable here. We have made devices, such as one called a ‘roomba’ with which you are no doubt familiar, that will handle most of the cleaning work in the house above. You may spend your remaining time assisting here. Have you any technical skills?”

“I’ve assembled some PCs—personal computers,” she said with growing hope, “And I’ve put together some kits with a soldering iron.”

“Splendid. You can don coveralls if you like, and we’ll get you started.” 

The Maid noticed that several ponies present were also wearing inappropriate costumes, which the coveralls did not entirely conceal. “Just one more question. Can you tell me more about the current lord of this house? I’ve heard some rumors.”

“You can safely discredit most of them. He’s actually a very nice fellow in private—”

A pneumatic tube in the ceiling hissed, and a black and white streak dropped through it, landing with splayed hooves on the tile floor with a ringing clank. Prince Blueblood shook his immaculate gold mane, but his dinner tux was singed and smoking with an occasional arrowhead protruding from it.

“Hello again, lassies and lads! Just back from a little trouble at the Griffonstone border. I think this suit has passed its trial run, but needs a bit of freshening.” 

Skilled techs surrounded him, expertly unhooked the old tux which rang in spots like a suit of armor, and clad him in a fresh version. The Maid found herself staring at his trim shoulders and strong muscular flanks.

Blueblood checked the fit and the secret pockets. “Capital! Anything new for me? I have to dash; Auntie wants me to apply some ‘creative diplomacy’ in Gemsbokia.”

The Majordomo smiled. “We’ve developed an improved laser pen for cutting hoofcuff chains, taser horseshoes for an added punch… And we have a new employee.”

Blueblood approached the Maid.  “Charmed to meet you,” he said, politely kissing her hoof. “Perhaps we can have a longer chat one of these days. I must be off. My thanks to you all!” 

His refit complete, Blueblood stomped on a button and shot back up the tube towards his next mission. The Maid stared after him in shock.

“...Maybe I’ll go without the coveralls,” she said.