"Hey, light, could you get the door?"
With a small sigh, an equally miniscule earth pony slid off his seat, yellowed hooves making a quick racket against the floor tile on his short journey, the door opening with a quick motion. His boss, Steel Resolve, grunted something that may have been a "Now get back to work light bulb," but was hard to make out around the crumpled folder that was now in his muzzle as he tromped out.
There was a moment of silence, broken by another sigh from the yellow stallion as he meandered back to his desk, half slumping in his seat as green eyes wandered over the papers in front of him, meaningless lines all jumbling together.
In his opinion, the whole place was meaningless; It was less a job and more a job at trying to find a job, endless parades of paperwork and a light sprinkling of other work to consume his energy, simple tasks that needed to be done quick, all of it thankless. It was one of those endless things, one moment to the next spent doing everything except something meaningful, something worth doing, all so others could do the things that might be of worth. He supposed somepony had to do it.
It was just one of the worlds great injustices that it had to be him.
Not that it mattered, as the clock reminded him; while he had hours of paperwork to yet finish, there were meager minutes left in the day, the almost soundless ticking counting down to his release, to when he could go somewhere he might actually mean something. Papers were stacked neatly, the attempt to tidy a cover for looking busy without actually thinking about what he was doing, a mindless task so he could think.
Thinking, was, after all, what he was best at; a sparking light bulb adorned both of his hips, though usually one or the other was covered by his rough cut and brassy tail, usually from the slightly skewed way he sat, though on occasion it was just something that happened; at least, that's what he'd say when asked.
If anypony asked right now, it would be simply because he was planning what to do next, planing where to scamper off to from this horrid little building; horrid it was, grey and squat and square, just like it's owner; It was about as well tempered as Steel Resolve as well, some nail heads not pounded all the way in, a few rough cuts never sanded down, liable to take a bite out of you for not paying attention. Maybe not as bright as anywhere else either; there was a bulb that had been burnt out for as long as he could recall, just waiting for someone to replace it, Resolve seemed to have forgotten it was ever there; though to be fair, sometimes it seemed he only noticed the other pony working there because it moved on occasion.
But thinking was what he did best, and it did not take long at all to come to a decision, a route planned firmly in his head. It wound through town, taking back roads, missing most of the main roads until it hit the local public house, the Optimist.
Double checking the nearly silent clock, he slipped out the door, a quick flick of his tail killing the lights behind him. The weather was appropriate for the end of summer, the pegasai having started rolling in quite a bit of cloud cover, the weather cool, a dampness hanging in the air, but not enough to warrant a jacket or scarf. Green eyes wandered over the town as the pony they belonged to wandered his way over to the pub, skirting through small back alleys and side roads to shave as much time off his travels as he could. The town was clean, like most small places tended to be, the community somewhat closely knit; even the architecture seemed to show that, houses matching except slight variations, the same mostly useless porches in front of every door, similar colours, everything just different enough to give the illusion of individuality.
He thought it was a shame.
Though, rounding the final corner to the pub, it stood out. The building was bigger, an actual covered patio out front, coloured glass windows, the whole thing standing a story taller than everything around it with the exception of the trees. It radiated warmth, even if it was the distant kind of a smiling waitress who only knew you by "The regular who orders the hayfries with a side of dressing," or, on occasion, "Hun."
Said waitress was changing a light bulb as the yellow stallion entered, up atop a step ladder, head turning swiftly upon hearing the bell above the door. "Oh, Hun, How are ya?" Not really waiting for a reply, the green mare looked back to the light she was swapping, deftly popping the dead bulb out and tossing it into the waiting trash bin before looking back. "If you're looking for Catnip, he's over in the corner like usual."
With a weak smile and a "Thanks," the stallion wandered over to the table in question, a bright white unicorn chatting happily with an equally blue pegasus. Seeing the yellow pony approaching, the blue pegasus waved a hoof in greeting. "Hey, light bulb! I was just talking to Stormlamp about the next project. He thinks it'll be pretty awesome!"
The stallion raised an eyebrow, glancing at the white unicorn as he took a seat, tail curling to cover his rump. Stormlamp had shown up a few weeks earlier and was still looking for a job to help him stay afloat while working with Catnip on some new story. Apparently the unicorn had really good vision when it came to writing, able to make Catnips often addicting but disorientating work easily traversable. They really had become something of a great duo in the recent days.
Speaking of the great duo, while the smaller stallion had been lost in thought, they had gone back to talking, a stew of information going back and forth, slowly cooking down to turn into something tasty as a whole, where the ingredients might not have been as compelling by themselves. Well, from what he could hear that was, the din of the crowd made it hard to hear anything at all; somepony had started up karaoke.
Sometime during all of this, hayfries had been dropped off like clockwork, and the yellow stallion absently shuffled a few into his face, ears trying to click into the conversation in front of him and mind trying to put it all together. He had lots of ideas, but knowing Cat, they would be too much, or too off base, especially because he was getting the barest of snippets. Adventure, mountains, ice... All easy to imagine vast worlds off of, but not enough to know if any would meet with the duo's plans. Normally he would ask and pry, but as of late, it seemed his opinions were less valid, less needed; Stormlamp seemed to be better at it then him anyways, so he supposed he couldn't complain, even when Cat draped his arm over the unicorns shoulders, even if it made him grind his teeth and narrow his eyes.
So instead he found his eyes wander over the dimly lit building, the small light bulbs spaced almost at random over tables, in the isles, anywhere they where needed, as numerous as the ponies they provided light for. It wasn't much, but it made the room seem warmer, though it did make many of the occupants look the same on a glance, almost as if they where as assembled en mass as the houses outside or the small objects giving light themselves.
Everything seemed to lend to one another, and he couldn't imagine what the place was like before the little electric marvels had been brought in, though he supposed the old kerosene lamps lining the top shelve of the bar where an indicator of the times past. Each one was lovingly crafted, coloured chimneys catching the light. What stories had they heard, what stories could they tell? They were old, and only a little bit of oil would let them come back to life. It was odd to think about, and filled his head with ideas as he rocked back on his chair, tail still tucked against his mark, eating hayfries.
It seemed the Pubs clock was even more silent than his works ever was even if it looked the same, though perhaps the noise was too much; the latter was likely, the former was just as possible. As his companions chatted away the night, leaving the earth pony to idle in his own thoughts, the clock had steadily worked onwards, minutes leading to hours, hours that became apparent when he looked up from his plate.
With a sigh, knowing his time to sit idle was up, the stallion dropped a few bits on the table, waving to his companions before trotting off, leaving the two engrossed in their conversation. He didn't even know if they noticed him leaving, but he supposed that was ok; the waitress offered him a "Goodnight Hun" in their stead, though it was something of a poor substitute. He supposed they were busy stallions, and both had so much to look forwards to, so he guessed it didn't matter, not really.
Stepping out the door however, he cringed, thinking for a moment about turning back. Rain was falling now, the night having taken a turn to the miserable side of life, the roads that had been dusty all summer long now covered in puddles, fine dust turning to what was probably the slickest mud this side of Equestria. The idea of heading back inside was wonderful, warmth and company of a sort all night long, but the knowledge of tomorrows workday looming in a few short hours, possibly too few with how he had let his mind wander made up his mind for him.
Two steps out and his fur was soaked down to his skin. His sigh was heavier, though if it was from how tired he was or how heavy all his coat happened to be with all this water in it could be debated. Regardless, he trekked on towards his house, the endless parade of almost the same buildings on either side of him.
Luckily, were strung and hung and placed everywhere, everyponies house having one or two on, street corners illuminated with them, the artificial glow lending a glimmer of hope in the dark night. He was a little yellow ghost out there, blending into the light from each of those glass globes brightness, hardly noticeable. With heavy limbs he slogged on, the thought of his own home and an escape from this half darkness carrying him on, temporary as it was bound to be.
Of course, it was half ways there that some fool careened down the street with a wagon, the stallion in a clear hurry as he hauled the clattering thing behind him. It seemed everypony was in a hurry these days, always needing to be somewhere, always needing everything now. It was a shame they all wanted the same thing, and even more that it always seemed most of them didn't know what they wanted. It did, however seem that they didn't care who they trampled getting it.
Picking himself out of the muddy puddle he had fallen into, he stifled a cough before slogging on, shivering now, cold mud stuck in his fur. He'd have to take a shower when he got home, hopefully the warm water would shake the chill that had sunken its talons into him.
Thankfully, his house came into view, the mailbox sitting slightly askew, like in some subtle defiance to the rest on the street. A quick check on that box revealed nothing of importance, like usual, just a bill addressed to Bright Idea. With a snap of his hoof, the boxes slotted front clicked back closed, and in a few moments, the door creaked open, letter deposited deftly on the small table near the opening.
Bright Idea flicked on the light with a muddied yellow hoof. He was home, and maybe he could get some rest, hope that the next day would somehow be better than the last.
There was a flash, accompanied with the loud 'POP' of a dying light bulb, doing nothing but ruining his night vision. Cursing, he stumbled the rest of the way through the door, slamming it behind himself.
The bulb had failed him. He had tried to wave everything off, tried to make it out to be not a big deal, tried to be like everypony else and just keep going, but now... Just like the whole day, it had failed him, the light bulb the last betrayal of the day. For a moment he broke, the stress of it all getting to him, swearing at a light bulb for not even managing to do the one job it had as he stood there, shivering from the cold, mud stuck in his coat, before he just let himself slump to the floor, staring up at the stupid glass thing.
It looked down at him, the little bulb not knowing what was wrong.
Trying to calm his breathing, Bright Idea figured that swearing at it wasn't really fair. it didn't know it was broken, did it? So why would swearing at it make it any better? He should just replace it...
His mind went back to the pub, to Stormlamp. Another pony with a light bulb on his rear. Another light bulb. With how terrible the day had been, he couldn't seem to stop thinking. Maybe, maybe he was like the light bulb above, broken, not even knowing it, and his replacement was right there, ready to take his spot. Maybe it had already happened, and he didn't realize he was in the trash already?
Would anyone notice? Anyone who knew him enough to have a name from him called him light bulb; it had started at work and slowly spread, and he had eventually given up on correcting them all; Bright Idea stopped being an individual and started being just another face. Another one of the many many ponies around.
The bulb was still dark above him. Nothing would fix it except replacement, and that was easy; there was a box of them under the stairs, fresh from some factory nopony even cared about. Maybe the name was correct. He hadn't had many bright ideas lately.
Wobbling to his hooves, Light Bulb kept his eyes fixed on the stupid bit of glass and wire. Any light bulb could do this ones job. They were all made to.
Any Light Bulb would fit the socket. He raised his damp hoof quickly.
Steel Resolve grunted at the door, folder in mouth. "Light bulb, could you get the door?"
The white unicorn sighed softly, sliding off his stool.
Author's Note
You are a light bulb.
You're a miracle, something that should only happen once in the life of a universe, but instead forced into molds and made by the thousands.
You are made to bring light to rooms that would other wise be lit by the indispensable candle. The candle, of course, is out of a job far more than is the light bulb.
You are constrained by the limits of the world around you. By the circuits. By the chains. You are a light bulb.
You are a light bulb. When you finally burn out from doing your job the same way you always have, you will be replaced without much mourning. You will soon be forgotten, another broken piece of glass in a dump heap somewhere covered in the rotting remains of cheese.
You are a light bulb. You will be forgotten.
You are a light bulb. Nobody will tell stories of you after you go. You have been trained for all your life to be a light bulb. You will not go outside of the lines. You will not, for you may burn down that which you light up.
You are a light bulb. A factory made you out of glass and gas and casts.
You are a light bulb. You will burn out just like every other light bulb.
You are a light bulb. Everyone in your factory can do your job.
You are a light bulb. You are quite fragile and it doesn't take much to destroy you. It doesn't matter though. The replacements are waiting to take your place.
You are a light bulb. You cannot apologize for being a light bulb, for it is not your fault you are a light bulb.
You are a light bulb. Energy flows through you and is expended into your work and nothing else.
You are a light bulb.
You are a light bulb.
You are a light bulb.
