Author's Note
Since everyone’s doing blog posts about it, I thought I’d make my opinions known with instead a story.
Enjoy! Or don’t!
Make sure to keep any discussion in the comments civil. Heated debates happen, but if you start calling for any violence of any kind, be it to another person, people, or property, I will remove your comment(s).
... the Tough get Going.
Nurse Redheart watched the buildings go by in a blur. She’d left for Manehatten the day prior by train out of Ponyville, and was actually enjoying the ride along the rails. The last several months, hard for her to believe, had gone by so fast that she’d thought her calendar was a month behind, when it was actually two.
Work, day in and day out. She had volunteered to help in Canterlot after a rather nasty flu had sprung up, and was endangering a lot of ponies lives. Some called it horrific, others brushed it off as just one of those things.
She worked it, and every day was something different. Some had gone by slow, calm, with minimal patients and calm. Other days blended until she realized she was sleeping in the break room more than her hotel room.
Ponies were sick, a lot were dying, but the words from the Princesses had helped calm everypony. Guidelines were ordered out, and those with weaker bodies, be that of age or genetics, to stay home and take care of themselves.
Isolation was the word, and some ponies were content with it. And then there were ponies… that were not.
They saw all of this as oppression from their “tyrant”, and quite literally at times spit in authority’s face over it.
Redheart was not a very political mare. She had her duty as a medical professional. Ponies were sick, she took care of them. Ignoring the “guidelines” there were just simple, basic, even common knowledge practices to just do to help not only ourselves, but each other.
Yet ponies had to be on one side or the other. There seemed to never be any middle ground.
She had been wearing masks all day, every day, for nearly three weeks to the point her muzzle was getting bruises under her coat. She remembered one day she decided to go for a walk, and forwent the mask. She was alone, and if she had to pass a pony, she, or the other, would casually step aside and keep distance so the other could pass.
And then she had a mare yelling at her for murdering ponies because she was out for a walk.
Without a mask.
She was a nurse, she knew what was right and wrong about medical practices and safe hygiene. This mare acted like she was just looking for any excuse.
Another time she did wear a mask, to go shopping. Then a stallion got in her face, calling her names and saying she was part of the problem with society. An employee tried to defend her, knowing well enough that Redheart was a nurse, but he had nothing good to say to the poor colt either.
And then the stallion spit on him, and left.
They didn’t even bother to go after him, he walked out with a candy bar without paying, instead trying to calm the poor colt from crying.
Everypony on both sides were being improper and unequine like, and yet there were those shining examples who tried to help and respected everypony.
Ponies had to stay safe. But they also had to work. But they had to stay indoors otherwise they were murderers for trying to keep each other fed. But they had to fight the upper powers because they were supposedly making ponies lazy with government funding.
After three months in Canterlot, Redheart had had enough.
Things were finally calming down. The sickness was on the decline, medical facilities were finally catching up with demand. Vaccines and potions and all manner of other things were starting to come out that helped.
Those at risk still needed to be careful, but those who weren’t could at least start living again.
When she had returned home to Ponyville, the small hamlet acted like nothing had really changed. Most ponies went about their business like normal. Some wore masks, some practiced distancing. There were pieces of faded paper in windows with the safety and health guidelines so those who didn’t know, could read and try.
But just like Canterlot, Ponyville had its own excentrics on both sides.
When she returned home to her apartment, only one neighbor stopped to say hello. An older mare, she was respectful and wore a mask, but as Redheart welcomed her inside and opened a bottle of wine, that mask came off, and they talked, laughed, cried. Her son had gotten it, but he was okay now.
She was scared. So was Redheart. There was one thing, she hoped, that everypony regardless of their standing, shared.
Once her neighbor had left, Redheart tended to her dead plant by tossing it into the trash and planning to buy another. Or not, she wasn’t sure if the Flower Sisters were actually open or not.
Then she realized, why did she even care? She had family around Equestria, she hadn’t heard from many of them besides random letters before all of this even started.
Days had gone by, with Redheart relaxing at home. Doctor Stable reassured her they were managing just fine, with only one floor of the building sectioned off, and the reality was they only ever used five rooms in total for any of the infected patients.
Granny Smith had been the worst one, which some of the Apple clan had blamed on the hospital. It made no sense to her, but some ponies were just like that.
It was then Redheart picked up a paper on her way home, and read the front page.
“Trottingham Stallion killed by Police. Racism Involved?”
Reading the article, it was obvious. The officer was in the wrong, but there was some obvious prejudice in the author’s word choice. The stallion killed was an earth pony, and the officer a unicorn.
She got a few more papers, to see the different sides of things. By this time, her radio had started to cut programs in order to report on the boiling tensions in larger cities. Protests, riots, police brutality, injured elderly and foals.
There was something wrong going on, but as she looked out her window at the peaceful town of Ponyville… it was like nothing was really going on.
That afternoon she sent a telegram to Manehatten, to ask if she could come visit her sister. She didn’t even wait for a reply, as the next morning she got on the first train out of Ponyville with nothing but a small overnight bag.
The train had slowed down to nearly a stop when Redheart was awoken from her day dream. The conductor saw everypony off, wearing a mask, and made sure they had hoof wipes if they needed them. Redheart took one upon retrieving her bag from the luggage colt, who held the handle in his teeth, a bored expression on his face.
It was several blocks to where she remembered her sister living. It had been a number of years since she’d visited last, when their father had died and Manehattan was the easiest place for the small family to meet.
It was only herself, Blueheart, and their cousins left, and most didn’t even care to keep in much contact.
Blueheart was the last of her close family, and hated how it took their father’s death to see each other. Then, to just go about their lives and not talk for another year.
Along her walk, there had been a few small blockades on some streets. She could hear ponies chanting, singing, and the occasional megaphone going off from both sides of a skirmish. She had to go around, unless she wanted to risk being a bystander if anything happened.
It took an extra block to go around until she found the apartment building. According to the mail boxes, she was still here, on the second floor, room 2C. There was no welcome mat, and a stallion peeked outside his door down the hall to see who was wandering the building. Redheart felt along the molding of the door until her hoof clicked on a small piece of metal. A key, and so she entered her sister’s empty apartment.
It was hours of sitting around, trying to not snoop in her sister’s things, and even making dinner before she heard a jingle of keys outside the door. Which was good, she was nearly tempted to start cleaning the apartment next, and she didn’t want to offend any more than she already had.
Blueheart, a white coated mare like Redheart herself, dragged herself in. Her light blue mane was done up in a bun not unsimilar to her own, only instead of a nurses cap she had a small police cap.
She couldn’t help but notice it was dripping wet.
Closing the door, Blueheart simply stood at the door, back to Red, and slowly, the soft sniffles of crying started to echo on the empty walls.
That was part of the mess, Redheart noticed. Many of her framed photos of Blue and her fellow police officers, glass broken and frames cracked. Awards bent and sitting just below dented plaster. Only a few photos remained unharmed, but were stacked in a pile on the kitchen counter.
Away from the war zone that was Blue’s living room.
She watched her sister cry for another few moments, and then finally cleared her throat.
The mare instantly jumped, hoof going for a baton attached to her hip and took an aggressive stance.
Redheart stepped from the kitchen, a half smile, half frown upon her face as she saw her sister’s wet face snarl in anger, then confusion, and finally sorrow once more. There was nothing to be said, not then anyway.
Redheart sat on the cold linoleum floor, and opened her forelegs.
Blueheart wasted no time in rushing over to embrace her sister, and openly wept.
“I had some foals throwing water balloons at me.”
Those were the first words her sister said since coming home. Redheart had guided her sister to her couch, newer than she remembered her having, and went to finish up dinner. They sat on the couch, a couple of dinner trays on legs in front of them while they ate. Blue’s dining table was a mess of papers, files, and scattered folders with case numbers on them.
They had eaten in silence, save for the occasional crack of noise from the distance outside which made Blue’s ears twitch, but nothing more.
“I think it was the Besley kids on floor four, but who knows. Nopony likes me here, not lately anymore. Wouldn’t matter anyway, not worth the trouble to talk to their parents.”
Redheart leaned over to rub at her sister’s side.
Blueheart wiped some errant tears away, then nuzzled her sister back.
“Enough of that though, when did you get here?”
“A few hours ago.”
“I expected some warning.”
“I sent a telegram last night.”
“You do know the telegraph system is slow cause of all this going on, right? I’ll probably get it tomorrow.”
Redheart shrugged. “I needed to come check in on you, see how you are doing.”
Her sister laughed. “Me? You’re the one getting your flanks kicked by a plague. I should be making sure you are okay.”
The way her sister said the word, it dripped with sarcasm, or maybe skepticism, but she let it go for now.
“I’m fine. I heard and read some news about the protests going on, so I wanted to check in on you.”
“You picked one Tartarus of a time to come to Manehattan. But, I’m glad to see you.”
“Same here.”
Silence took over again, and Redheart used it as an excuse to clean up the dishes, return the dinner trays, and hang her sister’s still dripping hat in the sink on the faucet. With any luck it would dry by morning.
She then noticed her sister’s uniform, which was wrinkled and had small bits of dirt on it. When she picked it up with her muzzle, she quickly realized it wasn’t dirt. She emptied the pockets, a pair of hoof cuffs, their key, a empty pepper spray bottle, and a torn photo onto the counter while she placed the uniform with a hooffull of other dirty ones in a laundry basket.
Returning to her sister, Redheart was going to ask where any extra blankets and pillows would be, but found her already sleeping on the couch.
Rifling through a closet, she found an extra blanket, draped it over her sister, and then set to doing some laundry. Her sister had one of those fancy electric washing machines with the roller dryer on top, so it should go rather quickly.
The next morning Redheart was up early, as was her custom. She’d slept on the couch with her sister, and the amazingly heavy sleeper hadn’t moved since. Shaking her head, Red went and began ironing her sister’s uniforms, firstly steam cleaning her police cap.
Only when Redheart started breakfast did Blueheart stir from her sleep, walking to the restroom with a slam of the door. She was always cranky in the mornings, which was why her sister preferred the cities, and Redheart the rural towns. She was an earth pony, after all, and that meant partly being a morning pony.
Blue was an earth pony too, but never seemed to fall into that stigma.
Breakfast was a simple affair, shared much like dinner, in silence.
When Redheart took their plates to the sink, Blue had looked over to a small area of the dining room that had been cleared for an ironing board, and on the back of a couple chairs hung freshly pressed uniforms.
“Did… you iron my uni’s?”
Redheart nodded.
She watched as Blue walked over, looking at them. “You even got the bl… er, stains out.”
“I’m a nurse, Blue. You can say blood around me. I’ve seen it plenty of times.”
“Sorry,” Blue said, ears folding down. “You’re… helping ponies though, get better. Heal. I’m… apparently out there, murdering ponies and beating old mares and kicking foals for the fun of it.”
Redheart blew a raspberry. “You are not.”
“Tell that to them, then.”
Red’s words died on her lips, watching her sister run a hoof along the pim and pressed fabric.
“This is the first time in months I’ll be wearing a clean uniform.”
Then, to Red’s horror, Blue took one and dropped it on the ground, stomping on it.
“Wha-what are you doing? I spent half the morning cleaning those for you!”
“I know, but then everypony in the station will wonder what’s going on. We’re all tired, Red. Just… tired.” Blue turned to look at her sister. “Only the married ones are getting this kind of treatment, and I don’t need anypony asking me questions.”
“What, that your sister is here visiting you? Checking in on you? Making sure she’s okay?”
Blue looked down to her hooves, at the crumpled uniform. Tears began to drop onto the clothing. “I’m… I’m…”
With no delay, Redheart rushed to her sister and hugged her again.
The next few hours were spent cleaning Blueheart’s apartment. At first hesitant, she ventually conceded the fact when a rat scurried out of the bathroom.
Her shift was quickly approaching, and Red made sure she spent a little extra time getting dressed and ready for work.
Blue walked into her bedroom, sporting a ironed and clean uniform, along with her hat, which wasn’t perfectly straight, but at least better than it was.
“So? How do I look?”
Redheart nodded. “Like you have a mission.”
Her sister laughed. “Right, I have a mission alright. How long are you going to be in town?”
Shrugging, Red folded some more freshly tried sheets. “I don’t know. Things in Ponyville are slow and quiet, so I thought a few days? I don’t want to be a burden.”
Blue blinked. “You? A burden? Red, look at this, my place hasn’t looked this good in years, let alone the last few months. You were sent to me by Celestia herself as far as I’m concerned. Stay as long as you want!”
The two sister’s hugged, Red careful not to disturb the crisp uniform, and walked her sister to the apartment door.
There, Blue hesitated, looking at the items emptied the night before. She hung the cuffs where they belonged, the key went safely into her pocket. The can of mace was discarded into the trash can, apparently they were resorting to disposable ones now for the outer beat cops such as herself.
Lastly the torn photo, which also found its way into the trash can.
Blue stopped at the door, turned to Red, smiled, then grabbing her baton, Red couldn’t help but watch something… change in her sister.
The smile went away, replaced with a neutral look. She tensed, shifting uneasy on her hooves, and with a deep breath walked out the door, locking it on the other side.
Redheart knew when she returned home hours later from now, she’d need her support once more.
That evening, Blue returned home much later than previously. Dinner was cold, the radio down low as Red snoozed on the couch. She was awoken by the door creaking open, and the sound of something wooden falling to the ground.
She quickly jumped up, rubbing her eyes. “Blue? Is that you?”
Silence greeted her.
Turning on a lamp, Redheart saw her sister nearly mimicking the same procedure as before. Standing at the door and crying. She knew her sister needed a few moments to herself, so waited for her to be the one to approach.
Another minute, then Blue wiped her muzzle, turned around, and placed her cap on the counter.
“Heya, Red. Sorry, work was… it was bad today, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Redheart nodded.
“I smell something, smells good. Is that mom’s old recipe?”
Again, she nodded.
“Cool, cool. I'll just eat it cold. Unless you didn’t eat yet!? I can warm it up! You know, so we’re not…”
“Blue.”
“Mom would have a fit if we ate it cold.”
“Blue.” Redheart was walking towards her sister.
She was still crying but not stopping her rambling as she talked.
“... and then we’d be sent to bed early but dad would always sneak us out to have the rest of the ice cream and and and…”
They hugged, and this time both wept.
Dinner was eaten cold, standing in the kitchen, forgoing even any utensils as they ate straight with their muzzles.
“My partner killed somepony today.”
Redheart froze.
“We were out walking along the docks, where the… where some lesser off ponies lived. Most are dock workers, there are some illegal gamblers, some drug runners, that sort of thing, but we usually ignore it so long as they’re not being too pushy, or we have an actual case against them.
“We… are the bad ponies now, so if we go after them just because we know they are selling drugs, that means we are being prejudice. We’re in the wrong, because they’re doing things that make our jobs harder in the long run, that ruin other’s lives with addiction or death.
“So, we were just out on our usual route. Most of the protests are in the nicer areas, the riots are in the even nicer areas, but that wasn’t our problem. Not today, it should have been an easy day.”
“But when you hear somepony scream for help… we’re the police. We are here to help, ya know? Like you do, Red. Do you understand that?”
Redheart simply nodded, growing closer to her sister so she had something to lean on that wasn’t counter top.
“So, we go down this alley, right, and there’s this mare being beaten by this stallion. Pokes initiated forward, telling him to stop. He was clearly drunk, and we don’t know if he was trying to rob her, or she was a marefriend, or a hooker, or what she was to him. He saw Pokes, and saw red, charging him.
“Went off about how we blues are just a bunch of kid killers and racists against the working class. We were both earth ponies for bucks sake, how are we any different than him? He was bigger, sure, but not trained. So, while Pokes hoofed him around, I checked the mare to make sure she was okay.
“Knocked out, but breathing. I then went to assist Pokes, cause the stallion was giving him some trouble. Between the two of us, however, we were able to keep him down and secure. But then, this idiot, starts shouting for help as well! Saying he’s being attacked by cops, come help him, save him.
“Pokes is an idiot sometimes, but he’s smart enough to realize a bad situation when he see’s it, and so am I. So we let off some of the pressure on him.”
Tears were running down Blue’s face, dribbling into her half empty bowl of soup.
“A few other ponies wandered by, wondering about the shouting. I told them to stay back, we were handling it. A few started to throw rocks at us, but we ignored it. One got Pokey in the eye, another one, larger, got me on my ankle, but I managed.
“Suddenly, this stallion gets another bout of strength, and pushes Pokes off, sending him into a wall. I’m barely able to remain on my hooves, but that was the mistake. I was smaller, so he lunged for me, pinning me to the ground.
“He started whispering things in my ear… horrible things. Things that I’d seen too many times the tail end of at a crime scene. I tried bucking him off, butting him with the back of my head. A random bystander I think realized what was going on and tried to help, but Pokes pushed him back to keep him safe.
“The ponies, however, saw it as he was attacking the other pony, and started up again.”
Silence took over, Redheart noticing the bruising on her foreleg, but didn’t want to do anything until her sister had spoken her piece.
Blueheart let out a shuddered breath. “Pokes tried to get him off me, but then he wrapped a foreleg around my neck, and squeezed. We were alone out there, no back up, no unicorn able to send out an assistance flare. So, he grabbed his baton, and swung.
“He… he meant to just piss him off, get him off me, but he… got him, right at the back of the head. His aim was off. It’s… ponies don’t understand, when everything’s happening so fast you can’t react, only going for instinct. My life was in danger. His was too. So was the mare he’d attacked and even the other ponies. We were there for them, to keep them safe.
“I felt him go limp. I pushed him off. We were hit with more rocks. I ignored them as I tended to the mare who was finally coming to. She was thankful, but then screamed. I turned around, and Pokes was ushering ponies back, away from the body.
“Enough action had gone on, and before too long more police showed up. We gave our statements, so did the mare. She was shaken up, a mild concussion, but she’d be fine. We were okay too, but ponies were out there shouting we were murderers.
“They didn’t see what he had done to that mare. They just saw we were in the middle of a heated fight and things went wrong. Pokes is now on suspension for saving my life. They wanted to suspend me too, but the chief knew better and said no.”
Blueheart rubbed her eyes with her leg.
“Yesterday, I got off early cause I’d been on the scene of a murder. A drugged up pony had stabbed his son and wife, killed her, nearly killed the colt. I was first on scene, to what was originally just a domesticated abuse call.
“I apprehended him, but it didn’t matter by then much. He had a record, but what did ponies care? He was a father, and we… were the bad guys.
“Last week, I got called to a alley were somepony reported a body. Some mother, probably young, scared, and confused, had dumped her newly born baby into a trash compactor.”
“Blue…” Red whispered.
“A month ago I was trying to help ponies with relief work, making sure in public spaces they were wearing their masks, asking them to leave if they didn’t. They spit on me, yelled at me, called me horrible names because I was trying to do what I was trained to do, and even then I was never trained for a pandemic!”
“Blue!” Red said louder.
“They said we were fighting the good fight. Yet others said we were oppressing them, flexing our power and pushing them down. Princess Celestia signed those orders, along with Princess Luna, Mi Amore, and even that one from your town! But it didn’t matter, because we were the bad guys!”
“BLUE!” Redheart shouted.
Her sister’s ears went flat, and the mare was visibly shaking.
Then, Redheart grabbed her sister and hugged her close while she wept. “I’m sorry.”
Another day came and went. Nothing too eventful, but Redheart could see her sister’s mental health constantly deteriorating. She nearly had her sister’s apartment cleaned back to a livable standard, when that evening she came home earlier than last, but later than that first night.
Blue, for the first time, didn’t discloth, empty her uniform, or even remove her cap. She walked right for the ice box, grabbed a cold cider, and walked to sit on the couch.
Redheart sat beside her, looking on with worry.
“They’re talking about disbanding the police.”
Red’s ears went flat.
“Some of the protests have gotten out of hoof. Some here in Manehattan, other places far worse. Riots are getting worse. A bunch of my fellow officers have left the force to go join the peaceful protests. That’s… great. Just makes it harder and thinner for the rest of us.”
Redheart was silent for a few moments. “Have you… considered doing the same?”
Blue blinked, then slowly looked to her sister. “What? Leave the force?”
Redheart already knew the answer by the fire in her sister’s eyes, but nodded anyway.
“So then by quitting, by leaving, by abandoning what I do, because some dipshit made a mistake, because some of us are corrupt, or racist, or just generally asshats, I should quit!? So that the next time a mare, or stallion, or even a foal, is attacked on the street, then I won't’, or another officer won’t, be there to stop them? I’d be just as much of a murderer as them.”
Blue downed the rest of her cider, tossing the bottle to the ground. Red frowned.
“They’ve done a lot to change things, you know Red? Try to weed out the bad ones. The ones who see themselves over the law that we are sworn to uphold? I can’t deny it, I’ve done it a few times, but the situations were different. A cop knows when rules need to be bent, or even broken for the sake of her community. But abuse? We try to stop it, but some cops see it as a… brotherhood, and need to watch out for each other no matter what.
“So then we all are taken down a peg. Like that idiot in Trottingham, and his fellow officers. Celestia will deal with them, but that’s not enough for ponies. We. Are. The. Bad guys.”
Without another word, Blue stomped away from the couch and into her room, jumping onto her bed. Red listened to the quiet sniffles from her sister, and began to dish up the cold dinner for tomorrow.
The next morning Redheart was warming up last night’s dinner to reuse when a newspaper was shoved under the door.
This had been a first. She expected her sister normally got the paper, but it wasn’t being delivered, possibly because of the still ongoing sickness. Looking at it, it was clear somepony had already read it first, and this was simply being passed down. The page it was open to, the significance was clear that it was meant to catch her sister’s attention.
Redheart placed the paper in the trash, and went to wake her sister for breakfast.
Munching away, Blue wasn’t looking exactly better, but not as disheveled as she had last night. She was still in her wrinkled up uniform, but Redheart had another one ironed and ready. Her cap was nowhere to be seen, probably still in her room.
“Hey, is that a paper?”
Red’s ears perked up, looking into the trash can. “Yeah, somepony shoved it under the door.”
“That’s probably Rusty, few rooms down the hall. He’s somewhat on the level, tries to help look out for us in the building as much as I do.”
She got up from her dinner tray towards the can.
“Blue… you might not want to…”
Her sister stopped, turning her head to look back with a brow raised.
“Never mind.”
Blue lingered another moment, then retrieved the paper, laying it on the floor to read the headline.
“Fucking genocide.”
Redheart let out a sigh. “Blue, no, it’s not that bad.”
“It sure fucking is. They’re talking about… relying on citizens to, what, deal with crime while they disband the trained fucking police, because that’ll do a whole lot of good. And train new ones? So what, they’re gonna try to screen them? Ask them the same fucking questions they asked me when I signed up?
“They are looking for newer minds, more open, more-”
“More vulnerable! Red, don’t tell me you actually get this malarkey. Ponies, regular ponies, don’t know what us cops go through.”
“Well, not all cops know what us regular ponies do.”
Blue visibly balked at that, stepping back.
Redheart continued. “Have you ever thought about it from some of these ponies who are mistreated?”
“How dare you!? Of fucking course I have, I do! I’m there to help anypony. I’ve saved the lives of criminals for Celestia’s sake! That doesn’t mean you can understand our side, Red. You’re not out there, you’re not trying to be the fucking good guy when everyone’s telling you you’re the opposite.”
Redheart was off the couch now, marching to her sister.
“You don’t think I understand, Blue? I’m a nurse. I went through months of Tartarus to save ponies! I know, but I’m also not an officer, so I see things differently than you.”
“So you want this then?” She pointed to the paper. “You want ponies to just let things go to Tartarus itself? Crime rampant, ponies doing things cause no one's around to stop them?”
“Blue, get a hold of yourself, of course they’ll be ponies there. Somepony has to.”
“You’re fucking right, it’s ponies like me, like Pokes! That’s what we’re there for. But oh no, a single cop-”
“Its not just about a single cop! Blue, ponies have been screaming for decades about the inequality that’s been going on. Cities like Canterlot, Fillydelphia, hay, here in Manehattan! There has been some wrong going on, and it’s finally broken the last straw.”
Both sisters faced each other, panting.
“So, that’s how you feel then. I should lose my job, what I was trained to do, sworn to do, because of other’s mistakes? Isn’t that how ponies act towards other races? Other species even?”
“No, Blue, I don’t. I think it’s getting too extreme, but I also think that things do need to change. Ponies are scared, hurt, and licking their wounds from the pandemic.”
Blue rolled her eyes. “Oh please spare me that one.”
“I was there!”
“Yeah, in Ponyville, where the local doctor is also the vet!”
“Doctor Stable is no such thing! Sure, he’s helped out a pet here and there, but he’s fully licensed, from Canterlot University. And excuse me but I was in Canterlot for the last three months, helping with the relief efforts. I saw ponies coming in, some nearly dying, and several actually dying. Could they have been prevented? I don’t know. Could more ponies have worn masks, or distanced better, or just stayed home and watched the world burn? I. Don’t. Know. But we tried, we did, and are doing, what we know that we can in order to help.
“And yet ponies pushed those away, calling it control and manipulation of the masses. Businesses shut down, I watched Pony Joe’s nearly go out of business, and he bucking serves the princesses!”
“So what? What are you trying to tell me, Red?”
She furrowed her brows, then gulped.
“That everypony’s not thinking about both sides, but for themselves.”
“Really? Cause those protestors, as peaceful as many have been, are still saying the opposite. They care about everypony else, that particular races outweigh the other, and since some of us are wrong, we’re all wrong. Just. Like. Racists.”
“No, it’s that sometimes prejudices take hold and numbers are scaled out, balance is off and not everypony feels treated the same.”
“Red, we’re earth ponies! What those cops did was wrong, and many before them, and many more will happen after them, but ponies don’t get what we go through!”
“Yes, we’ve been over this.”
Blueheart ran a hoof through her dirty mane, stepping away and into the kitchen.
“I just… I don’t get how to make you see things.”
“Neither can I.”
Silence.
“Am I the bad guy, Red?”
Redheart approached her sister, hugging her tightly. “No more than I am.”
Redheart saw her sister off to work, this time walking with her so she could catch the next train home.
They walked by a protest in the street. Peaceful, the police were just standing there. Occasionally a pony tried to start something, but either a fellow protester, or an officer, would keep them at bay.
“Some ponies think cops are being placed in to disturb the peace, and make things escalate.”
“What do you think?” Red asked.
“I think that there’s been enough riots over stupid shit to believe it.”
Then they passed through a shopping district, which had been vandalized. Several ponies were out cleaning the mess. Some Manehattan Control, others ordinary citizens just trying to help.
“This block got hit, when one of ours pushed somepony back too hard, made them fall and get hurt. Protestors didn’t take too kindly to it, and then another cop flubbed up, and another, and another…”
Redheart leaned against her sister, and Blueheart leaned back.
“We are trained to react, Red. You never know when a pony is hiding something.”
Blueheart’s station was guarded by several police ponies in riot gear. They hugged once more, and with a final wave Blue walked inside, and Redheart began walking back the way she came, not knowing if this could be the last time they saw each other.
She stopped at the ponies cleaning up, and offered to lend a hoof. One look at her cutie mark, and many of them thanked her but told her she’d done enough good for a long time, and to go home and rest. She at least bought them some donuts and coffee from a local shop that was only doing curbside service.
She passed by the protest once more, and watched as ponies marched around with signs, shouted at officers or just into the heavens, frustrated, mad, upset. A police pony walked by, not in riot gear, and asked her to please join them or move along. He wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t very polite about it.
Then again, the sidewalks were starting to get busy, and ponies, or some, were still trying to practice distancing.
So she walked on, and headed for the train station. With any luck, she’d get home in time to take an epsom bath and catch a night shift, maybe enjoy some time with Stable and let off some pent up frustration.
The world was such a mess right now. And while she could see the troubles from all points, Redheart felt as though she’d be the opposing force of either side.
