Love-Hate

“Nice hair, asshole.” This was what greeted me as I stepped through the great iron doors of the facility. Now, on a good day I could tolerate a comment such as this without so much as a glance, but today wasn't one of those kinds of days. I woke up early, without a shower and coffee, or alcohol, and felt like shit from a stomach bug after I ate that expired rotisserie chicken last night.

I shot the one who regarded my hair so brashly a quick glare, enough to instill fear in him and keep him quiet. Sweat quickly formed on his brow, and he looked back to his friend of whom he was talking to before I came along. The look of shock on his face was amusing, and it got me to smirk, if only for a second. Continuing on my normal path, I looked around, watching the machinery work its magic and create boundless amounts of energy, every little blink of light around me made me slightly happier to be there. But only slightly.

I love this place, I truly do. Not the ponies, as much, however. Not very many of them have much more value than being our little lemmings. This place though… As I sit myself at my desk, and look through the overwatch window, I see the pillars glow a faint blue as the reactors underneath did their thing. My own creation, those things were – at least, this generation of them – and I was proud of it. Very rarely did they have a problem, and when they did, it was usually an employee being an idiotic bitch.

My office’s thick metal door swung open, and in the opening stood my own personal Hell. She had a shrill, monotone voice, with a hint of sarcasm in every breath. “FLUX!” She screamed in her oh-so-lovely-to-hear-I-don’t-want-to-kill-her-right-now voice. “Do you realize how inefficient you’re being?! Three reactors, at under-clock! Are you trying to drive us out of business?!”

What a great day this was already turning out to be. No coffee, no alcohol, ponies making fun of my messy mane again, Daxalog yelling at me early in the hours… I love my life. The silver-plated bitch’s blue LED eyes lit up brightly in a rage. Her light blue, short mane sparked as well, making a pretty sight for a not-so-pretty mare. Only reason she hasn't been decommissioned and destroyed yet, as well as her lightning-fast calculations.

With a sigh, I replied, holding in all my rage, “For fuck’s sake, you know I built these things, yeah? You think you could shut up for one god-damned second, and just let me run this thing my way? Need I remind you, I am the motherfucking Chief Executive?”

Fucking god-dammit. Lost control again.

Dax softened up, if only the smallest amount, and held back her own angry reply. “Can you please, just, set them normally? Soon?”

I nodded at her, while looking at myself in the mirror. She left, without me noticing, and I had simply stared at myself. My hair was so very curly that morning, it was almost… Cute, I suppose you could call it. My hair, it had a nice and silky look, it complimented my pinkish-purple eyes rather well. I put my hooves together and held them over my mouth. Small tufts of hair would hang from over top them. The scratchiness of my stubbly beard was tickling my sensitive skin, and I dropped my hooves to see myself with a slight grin, a tooth poking out from my upper lip made me look rather badass. I love myself.

What a boring work day this is turning out to be, I thought to myself. A few hours had passed after Dax ran in to bitch at me. Nothing interesting, the occasional few complaints of employees I don’t pay enough, Greenback coming in to berate me and remind me of my past failures, and how he thinks he deserves my job. I’d tend to agree, but, I like the money.

The time rolled by as I watched the television in the corner of my small office. It was to the right of the door, so I could see out of the circular window of it. On the television today, was a show about these three ponies that went into abandoned or haunted locations, and would try to debunk or find evidence of ghosts. It’s silly how they feel the need to prove they exist. I’ve met a few in my lifetime, and met with the very woman who overlooks their souls. Obviously, they’re here among us.

I was done, with today. The sun went down; the employees were leaving to head home to their families or to eat tubs of ice cream and jerk off in the shower, crying about how they’ll never have anyone to love.

My jacket on my back, and my head as clouded by thoughts as ever, I left the facility and locked up, looking behind me and to my sides, in a paranoid scan. The enormous sign above me, which glowed in the night like the moon, read “Manehattan Power Industries.” After I turned the key, a mechanism in the door shut off the lights inside, and the sign, but you could still hear the hum of the generators within at work, underclocked for safety. It was soothing. Once I recorded the noise and listened to it to help me get to sleep. I love the sweet songs of science.

The walk home is tedious, and quiet, and relaxing, and peaceful. Nobody comes out this late at night, so it’s safe on all fronts. Nobody’s usually awake either, so it’s just the tranquil sound of the wind passing through my mane keeping me company. It’s a chilly night, but just warm enough to keep me from shivering. Looking up, I see nothing but a clear sky, patched with some clouds, but nonetheless a very starry night. It’s funny, the street lights are off tonight, but, I won’t complain. I’d rather it be pitch black and quiet than lit and loud.

I took a deep breath, and the sweet smell of Manehattan’s gardens filled my nostrils. This was the last part of the city I had to walk through before I would get to my apartment, which was only a minute away by then. That was my favorite part of the walk home, just being alone in the dark with the flowers’ scent, with nothing but my thoughts and the air. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, as I arrived back at my apartment.

I didn’t need a key, the lock’s been shattered for a year now. My actual job, as a stand-in machine, is to lift up the parts of a nuclear reactor shell and such as it’s being built. By the end, it can weigh up to 7 tons, and it took me two years to get the endurance and strength to get that far. It hurt, and I injured myself hundreds of times. But now, I can do it with nary a problem, and I have extreme strength to boot. Today, though, the production line was offline, and nothing was built. Just another day of nothing being done, I suppose. I won’t complain, though, I may be ultra-strong, but I still don’t enjoy the tedium of lifting that shit. Then again, it wouldn't be a punishment if I enjoyed it.

Darkness. That’s all there is in this place. Darkness, ice cream, and a few pieces of furniture. I toss my jacket aside to the couch, head to the kitchen, grab a tub of ice cream, and get ready for another long, lonely night. At least the shower understands me.