TCB: The Ballad of the White Rose

by BillyColt

Chapters

There She Is
The End/Setback
The Radio/Mediations
The Play/Lost Causes
The Purifier/And Despair

There She Is

“What kind of ship are you looking for?” asked the salespony. “Mister, uh...”

“Firebrand. I’ll know what it is when I see it.”

The customer was a pegasus with a flaming orange mane, walking down an airstrip next to the salespony.

“How about you give me a shot at price range and I’ll see what’s there?” the salespony suggested.

“That’s not important to me,” said Firebrand.

They were surrounded by all manner of airships, ranging from zeppelins to air-yachts to small floating fortresses.

“I want a good ship that’ll take me places.”

“Oh, we got no shortage of those,” said the salespony.

Firebrand looked around at the selection, before his eyes fell on something: a small zeppelin, pure white. “What about that one?”

“That blimp?” said the salespony.

“Yes,” said Firebrand. “I want that one.” He smiled. “That’s my ship. My beautiful white rose.”

The Ballad of the White Rose
A Conversion Bureau Story
by BillyColt
Based on “The Conversion Bureau” by Blaze, which BillyColt hasn’t actually read

Chapter 1
There She Is

Lollygag was bored, as usual. His parents had left him home alone with a list of chores: water the plants, put away the dishes, feed the fish, blah blah blah blah blah. He slumped on the couch, preferring, as so many foals do, to do absolutely nothing rather than something productive.

To make matters even more boring, his parents had left the radio on, tuned to the classical music station. Lollygag couldn’t reach it and so he couldn’t change the station or turn it off, so he had to endure an unending torrent of mind-numbingly boring violins.

He groaned, wishing there was something more interesting. Then a miracle happened – the music from the radio turned to static. The colt looked up, wondering what had happened. Then, after a few seconds, the static began fading in and out, but the sound replacing it wasn’t the boring classical music, but it seemed to be a strange voice.

The static at last subsided, and a voice spoke: “Ah, I see our technical difficulties are over. Apologies to Classically Equestrian, but I think our message is important enough to interrupt you for just a few words.”

Lollygag’s ears pricked up. This had never happened before. It was a gorgeous voice, deep, clear, and warm, like a big soft blanket that enveloped his ears.

“Good day to you, fair ponies. This is Vox of the White Rose. Tonight we stand on the eve of an anniversary: the anniversary of the end of humanity.”

Lollygag tilted his head. He had no idea what any of that meant.

“You may not be aware of this. After all, humanity’s end was not a sudden conquest done overnight. Rather, it was a gradual, slow decay that saw a once proud and mighty race gradually whittle away and decline, until many years ago tomorrow, the last human died. Well, not completely. Many of them, in fact, most of them, joined the race of ponies. In fact, some of you who listen to this broadcast may yourselves be descended from ponies who were at some point humans before their ‘conversions.’ That was what they called it when the humans turned into ponies. That was a long time ago. But before I return you to your music, here’s something for your consideration...”

There was a brief silence. Lollygag wondered just what Vox was going to say, and what he was talking about. He’d never heard anything about humans or conversions or anything like that.

“The last human,” Vox continued. “He didn’t convert. He died. This is the White Rose. Remember.”

The boring violins resumed as though they’d been on air the entire time. Lollygag was disappointed that they came back, but he was glad that Vox of the White Rose had relieved him, if only for a little while.

Lollygag groaned. He knew he had chores, but he didn’t want to do them. On the other hoof, his parents would be mad when they got home and found that he had once again frittered away a summer afternoon. He eventually decided that he would water the plants.

He got up from the couch and trudged to the door. It hadn’t occurred to him that doing something productive was preferable to being bored. He walked out the front door and looked at the hose, coiled up next to the lawn. On the lawn itself, however, he saw something else – countless sheets of paper. He blinked in confusion before he saw another sheaf of paper floating down. He looked around his neighborhood – papers, papers, everywhere, with the other ponies in town just as confused as he was. Some of them were reading them, others were looking up at the sky. Lollygag followed their gaze. He looked up and opened his mouth in shock.

The air was filled with papers, all of them falling from one point. Way up in the sky was an airship; a white zeppelin.

The colt then looked down at one of the leaflets and began to read.

There are times when an injustice is shielded with a lie. And because of this lie, the injustice is allowed to go unpunished, or even justified. We say that we will not stand for this. We declare that we will blow open the lie and expose the hidden injustice with a blaze of truth, so bright that the injustice will shrivel and die in the magnificent heat.

This is our stated purpose: that we will drown out the lie with the truth, until across the land, all will raise their voices and demand that the grave injustice is answered for.

We are the White Rose.

Remember.

A young pegasus stallion looked down from the the bridge of the zeppelin, watching as the leaflets fell to Equestria below. His name was Firebrand, so named because of his bright orange mane.

The bridge was sparsely decorated with various nick-knacks, the most prominent of which was a red foam hand mounted on the wall. However, rather than the usual pointer finger, the foam hand extended the middle finger.

“Sir?” asked a familiar voice over the intercom. “We finished our broadcast.”

“I heard, Vox,” said Firebrand. “Good work to Wordsworth and Signal.”

“Aye, sir!” said another male voice over the intercom: Wordsworth.

“Yes, captain,” said a female voice: Signal.

“You don’t think I overdid it on the leaflet, do you?” asked Wordsworth.

Firebrand rolled his eyes. “Considering the subject I don’t think ‘overdoing’ it is a ‘thing.’”

Firebrand smiled. He liked being called ‘captain.’ He went over to the intercom and pushed a button.

“Cogs, Bolter,” he said. “Think we can make it to Canterlot by tomorrow?”

“I think so,” said another female voice. “Unless the guards don’t like what we’re doing.”

“I don’t think they will,” said a male voice.

“Leave that to me,” said Firebrand. “You two just keep her flying.”

He stood at the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He had thought about his plans for a very long time, and now that he had a ship, a crew, and a mission, he was ready to move forward. He flipped a switch, turning on the intercom for the entire ship.

“This is it, everyone. We’re gonna do something big. We’re heading for Canterlot for a meeting with the princesses! Everyone get ready. It’s a biiiig day tomorrow.”

He turned off the intercom and looked at the skyline ahead. He grinned.

Alright, he thought. So, Princess Celestia, you’re a goddess with powerful, ancient magic. You raise the sun, your sister raises the moon, and all of the world adores you. Well, that’s quite a lot. But you know what I’ve got? He turned the steering wheel. I got an airship.

In Canterlot castle, Princess Celestia sat in her private chamber, staring down at the flower in front of her.

“Sister?” asked a voice from behind her.

“Yes, Luna?”

“Are you alright?”

Princess Celestia sighed. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“I am not sure, sister,” said Luna. She walked up beside her sister and looked down at the white rose before her. “Sister?”

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day the last human died.”

“But that was years ago.”

“I still remember it, though,” said Celestia. “I remember the day I saw the last human. How he refused to join the ponies. And he died.”

“He pointed a gun at you, Celestia,” reminded Princess Luna.

Celestia didn’t say anything. “He was scared," she said, "and he was dying. Sometimes I still wonder if we really made the right decision.”

“Well,” said Luna, “all is well now, is it not?”

“I suppose it is,” said Celestia. “I just need some time to think.”

“Very well,” said Princess Luna. “I will leave you towards your thoughts. I have my royal duties to attend to.”

Princess Luna left her sister to contemplate over the white rose and the troubling memory of that day so many years ago, as the other White Rose slowly made its way through the sky, carrying its excited crew.

The End/Setback

Memory 1
The End

A small group of ponies stood outside, looking at a small house. It seemed like a perfectly fine day, bright and cheery without a cloud in the sky. The ponies, however, were gripped by a sense of nervous urgency.

One of them looked up at the sky. “Princess Celestia!”

Indeed, the princess was flying in, courtesy of her chariot. The three ponies bowed as her chariot landed and she stepped out.

“Has there been any luck?” she asked.

“None,” said one of the ponies. “He’s refusing to budge.”

Celestia sighed. “I was afraid this might happen.”

“What should we do?”

“Nothing,” said Celestia. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“But, your majesty–”

“I can take care of myself,” said the princess. Slowly, she walked up the path to the front door. It was locked, but that was no trouble for her magic. There was a click as the door unlocked and opened, allowing the princess to step inside.

The house was modest and clean, with very little in the way of furnishings or decorations. The house was still, and for a moment Celestia feared that she might be too late.

“I thought I locked that,” said a voice from the study. Celestia followed.

The study was also very sparse, bare of books, with little more than a desk and a chair. Sitting behind the desk was a man, about in his early thirties. He was leaned over the desk, writing on a sheet of paper with a pen. Next to him was a pistol, a vial of some liquid, and a white rose.

Princess Celestia stood silently for a minute. The human pulled out a handkerchief and coughed into it.

“They tell me you’re not being cooperative,” she said at length.

“Don’t feel like it,” said the human, returning to his letter. “Gave me this potion.” He pointed to the vial on the desk.

“And you’re not going to take it?” asked Celestia.

“Call me a procrastinator,” he muttered through his teeth.

“Dylan...”

The human slowly looked up, his eyes narrowed.

“Dylan, please,” said Celestia. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“If I could breathe better I’d laugh...” he said, returning to his letter.

“You don’t have anything to lose by taking it,” said the princess, “except maybe your pride.”

The pen stopped. The human didn’t look up. “Except maybe my pride,” he repeated. “That’s all I have left. That’s all you’ve left me.”

“You don’t have long to live if you stay like this,” said Celestia. “The air is killing you. You’re still a young man, Dylan. I’m offering you the chance to live a good life. It’s not worth throwing away.”

Dylan set down the pen and leaned back in his seat. “You’d like that, princess, wouldn’t you?” he asked, before coughing into the handkerchief again. “You’d like to have it end on a happy note. You’d like to end it on a conversion instead of a death.”

“That’s how I’ve always preferred it.”

Dylan glared at her. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to give you that satisfaction.”

“Then you’re willing to die just to spite me?”

“Maybe that’s part of it,” said Dylan. He looked at the vial and picked it up. “You think I should... I should just drink this, become one of you, and then go on as though nothing ever happened? Pretend you ponies didn’t poison me? Act as though none of this ever mattered?” He laughed bitterly, followed by a new round of coughing. “Guess I can still laugh.”

“You could be happy,” said Celestia. Dylan didn’t answer. “Is this really the option you prefer?”

“Happy...” Dylan repeated. “I think I remember the last time I felt I was happy. It was... maybe two months ago. I was in the bar, sitting by myself.” He laughed to himself. “Last human in the world, so no one minds if I help myself to some of the worthless booze. I have the jukebox on, playing Piano Man.” He looked back up at her. “You know that song?” He coughed again. “Anyway, I think I’m all alone and then this pegasus walks up next to me, takes a seat. He stares at me as though he’s dumbfounded. And then he asks me...”

“What?”

“The same thing all of you ask me,” said Dylan. “He asks me why I don’t just turn into a pony.”

The room went silent for a minute, save for Dylan’s periodic coughs.

“I told him why,” he said at length. “And that’s when I realized that I was going to die. And I think he realized it too, because when I looked back at him he was crying... And then he says to me, ‘Keep fighting. Never stop fighting.’” He coughed yet again. “I don’t know much about fighting. But I figure this is close enough.”

“Then there’s nothing I can say to convince you?”

The last human leaned forward, taking the pistol in his hand. “As long as I’m alive this is still my home.” He raised the gun and pointed it at the princess. “You are trespassing. Get out.”

Celestia stood there. The gun wouldn’t hurt her – they both knew that. The human’s hand shook, and he dropped the gun, before entering into a new fit of coughs.

“Very well,” said Celestia sadly. “Goodbye, Dylan.”

She turned and left the study, shutting the door behind her. Dylan slowly picked up the pen and returned to the letter. It was getting harder to write each passing word, but this was the last thing he was going to do on earth...

He set the pen down. He turned his head to look at the flower next to him. He reached over and turned the rose over in his hand, contemplating it. He lifted it and leaned back in his chair, holding the rose in front of him. Then his hand fell.

Chapter 2

Setback

The kitchen at Pegasus Pete’s Pizza was busy. The delivery-colt had just been assigned to deliver three pizzas to

“The zeppelin floating over the building,” said his boss.

The delivery-colt blinked and his mouth drew back into a bemused expression as his boss gave him three pizzas.

He headed out the front door and looked up – sure enough, there was a big white blimp floating lazily overhead. Part of him was confused as to why they needed delivery if they could just come down and get it themselves…

Deciding not to question the customers, he spread his wings and took off into the air, all the while contemplating the random circumstance.

After a somewhat frustrating search for an entrance, he landed on a small balcony and knocked on the door. The red-maned pegasus answered.

“I have one cheese, one bell pepper, and one pineapple?” asked the delivery-colt.

“We ordered pineapple?” asked Firebrand. He leaned back into the room. “Hey! Why’d we order pineapple?!”

“Because I asked for it!” answered Signal’s voice. “What’s wrong with pineapple anyway?”

“Weeeird...” said Firebrand, returning his attention to the delivery. “Anyway, here’s your money,” he said, producing a bag of bits. “By the way,” he added as they exchanged, “how do you like my ship?”

“Umm...” said the delivery-colt. “It’s pretty cool, yeah.”

“Yes it is,” said Firebrand. Without another thought, he piled the pizzas onto his back and shut the door. “Alright, everybody, we got food!”

He made his way down the hall to the kitchen, a fairly cramped space with a stove, oven, refrigerator and a surprisingly large table, around which the members of his crew were already seated.

There was Vox, a black earth pony with a marvelous voice. He gave the speeches over the radio. Next to him was Wordsworth, a white unicorn and aspiring poet who wrote the speeches and the leaflets. Further down was a turquoise unicorn named Signal. Her job was to get their broadcasts out, even if it meant drowning out some hapless “legitimate” radio station. Next were the fraternal twins, Cogs and Bolter, two brown earth ponies who worked the engine and kept the ship in the air. And lastly, there was a cobalt-blue pegasus, Sweeps. He was pretty much just a janitor. Wasn’t even really all that on-board with the mission statement, just wanted to be on a ship.

“Alright, so we got cheese, bell peppers, and pineapple...” Firebrand listed.

“Pineapple?” asked Bolter. “Who eats pizza with pineapple?”

“I do,” said Signal. “So, Wordsworth, you got a new poem?”

Wordsworth drew back in his seat. “Well, not exactly...”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly?’” asked Vox. “You were just showing it to me!”

“Vox...”

“I’d like to hear it...” said Sweeps in his usual quiet voice.

Wordsworth, however, would have none of it. “Come on, guys, it’s terrible. Let’s just have the pizza...”

“No,” said Firebrand, placing a hoof on top of the boxes. “I want to hear that poem. No poem, no pizza.”

The others all looked at Wordsworth, who sighed in resignation. “Fine...” he said, producing a piece of paper and floating it in front of Vox. Vox straightened himself out in his seat, cleared his thoat, and began to read.

“The lark and the thrush,
As they fly from the bush
Sing songs of the coming of spring.

Though winter was cold,
They pipe forth still bold
The life and rebirth it will bring.

And there on the hill,
The air, cold and still
Sounds forth with the merriest ring.”

When the poem was completed the other ponies applauded. Wordsworth smiled bashfully, a little embarrassed.

“You guys...” Wordsworth said. “Come on, it’s not that good...”

“Welllll,” said Firebrand with a playful smile. “If you don’t think you’re a good enough writer we could always find someone else.”

“Alright, alright,” Wordsworth laughed. “C’mon, let’s get out the pizza and the cider.”

Signal was already opening up a few bottles of sparkling cider while Firebrand opened the boxes of pizza and passed them around. Vox, Wordsworth, and Sweeps helped themselves to the cheese while the twins helped themselves to the bell peppers. Signal was, of course, the only pony interested in the pineapple.

Firebrand, however, didn’t take any. He sat there, watching his crew, before rising, a glass of cider in his hoof.

“I’d just like to take this moment,” he began, “to thank you all for being here. I certainly couldn’t get this ship off the ground myself – I couldn’t fly it myself, do the broadcasts, or the leaflets.” Firebrand turned to each of the responsible parties, nodding at them in turn. “We’re heading over Canterlot. Tomorrow’s the big anniversary and, well, we’re gonna make sure they all hear us. We’ll make them remember.” He lowered his voice. “We’ll make them listen.” There was a pause as he raised his glass. “To memories of yesterday, and dreams of tomorrow. To the White Rose.”

“To the White Rose,” responded the crew.

The next day, the anniversary of the end of humanity, was not a particularly regarded date in Equestria, and the only ones who paid it attention were historians. As such, most of the ponies in Canterlot regarded it as a very average day.

Because of this, many ponies were annoyed when they found their radios weren’t working. From the bridge of his ship, Firebrand smiled.

“Alright, Signal?” he called into the intercom. “Get this on every station you can.”

“Got it,” said Signal.

In the broadcast room, Signal was hard at work navigating several ham radio sets. Vox sat behind a sheet of soundproof glass and waiting by the microphone. Finally, Signal nodded to him, and he began to speak.

Down below in Canterlot, countless ponies found that their radios refused to cooperate.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Canterlot,” announced Vox. “Today is a very special day for some of us. Today marks the anniversary of the end of an era.”

The ponies of Canterlot stared at their radios, confused as to why somepony was interfering with their usual programming. Some ponies, however, looked out their windows and up in the sky, where they saw the white airship floating over the city. The ponies at Canterlot castle included.

A royal guard rushed down the hall of the royal palace. “Princess Celestia!” he gasped, “There’s an incident.”

Princess Celestia paused, unsure as to what was happening. She could scarcely remember the last time there was an incident.

“What kind of an incident?” she asked.

The guard produced a radio set and turned it on. Vox was continuing his speech.

“...Once, there were billions of humans walking the planet. Now there are none. I imagine you may well be asking ‘where did they go?’ Well, I’ll tell you: they’re all gone, thanks directly to our fair princesses!”

“What should we do, your majesty?” asked the guard. The princess, however, did not respond. Instead, she rose from her throne and marched down the hall, through a set of doors and out onto a balcony. From the balcony, she could see the zeppelin looming over the city.

“Is the broadcast coming from that?” asked the princess.

“We suspect so, your majesty,” said the guard.

“...it was a slow, quiet extermination, some humans turned to ponies by way of entreaty, others simply died off as they could not live in the new environment encroaching on their homes...”

“Cut off the broadcast,” said the Princess. “They must be using magic to hijack the radio stations. Try to interfere.”

“As you wish, your majesty.” The guard bowed and marched off.

Firebrand lazily sat in his seat, listening to Vox’s speech. Everything was going smoothly so far. What I wouldn’t give, he thought, to see the look on the princess’s face right now. His smug satisfaction, however, was interrupted.

“Captain!” called Signal’s voice over the intercom.

“Quiet, Sigs,” yawned Firebrand, “I’m trying to listen to the show.”

“You’re not the one that needs to hear it.”

“Huh?” asked Firebrand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we have a problem with the broadcast,” said Signal. “They’re jamming our signal.”

“They? Who?”

Well, got their attention, thought Firebrand. His eyes fell on a megaphone on the shelf next to him. “Signal, just keep trying to get that broadcast out. I’m gonna go do something stupid.”

He got out of his seat and grabbed the megaphone in his mouth, before marching out of the bridge.

“Hey,” said Sweeps as Firebrand brushed past him in the hall, “how’s the thing going?”

“Shtahlled,” said Firebrand in a muffled voice as he headed for the door to the balcony. He leaned over the edge, looking down at Canterlot below, then to the castle where the princesses dwelled.

“Hey!” he yelled into the megaphone. “We weren’t finished!”

He jumped over the edge and flew around the zeppelin, carrying the megaphone in his hooves and glaring at the castle.

“You can block out our broadcasts, but you can’t silence us! I’m talking to you, princess! And I’m gonna keep talking and yelling and...”

However, he found that the microphone had vanished from his hooves. He stared at them, his mind racing in anger and confusion, before he looked up and saw Princess Celestia before him.

“You!” he shouted.

“Well, you said you were talking to me,” said the princess. “Shall we return to your ship?”

Firebrand flew back to the balcony, keeping his eyes on the princess as she followed him.

“You know what today is, right?” he asked.

“Your friend was sure to tell everypony over the radio,” replied the princess. “What is your name?”

“Firebrand,” said he, nodding to the flaming bolt on his flank.

The princess carefully examined him, taking note of his slouched posture, his narrowed eyes, the snarl in his voice, everything.

“My guards are currently standing down,” she said. “I assured them I could manage the situation without too much of a hassle.”

“Well, ain’t that too bad?”

“Well, your broadcast isn’t going out, so technically I’ve solved that.”

Firebrand paused, continuing to glare at her. He hated that sing-songy quality in her voice, like she was mocking him, talking down to him the way a mother talks down to a toddler.

“What is it you want?” she asked.

“We want justice,” said Firebrand. “Most of the ponies who were involved have passed away without event or consequence. But you? You and your sister are still alive, and you’ll remain alive.”

“Justice?” she asked. “Justice for what?”

“For the genocide of the human race!” Firebrand snapped.

Celestia stared at him and sighed.

“You’re a very angry little pony, Firebrand.”

“I think we’ve got a pretty good reason.”

“Do you?” asked Celestia. “There are no humans left to protest. Neither have their descendents.”

“We are now,” said Firebrand.

Celestia paused. “I knew him, you know,” she said. “I spoke with him shortly before he died.”

“What, you’re gonna tell me he was a nasty bad human? Cause really, I’m not interested.”

“Well,” she said. “He was very bitter.”

“Well, duh,” said he, “given you killed him.”

“It was the Equestrian atmosphere that killed him,” she said. “It was an unfortunate but inevitable–”

“That’s a lie!” Firebrand shouted. “We know what you did. We know that you deliberately spread it! We’ve seen the machines.”

For once, Celestia’s face betrayed a sense of shock as her eyes widened. Firebrand noticed this and smiled smugly.

“Yeah, you weren’t able to destroy all of them,” he continued. “And we’re going to show it to everypony, until every last one of them knows what you did.”

“Sadly,” said Celestia, “what you are doing is technically against both radio and flight regulations. You disrupted the broadcasts of legitimate stations, and I sincerely doubt you got a permit before flying your ship here.”

Firebrand’s smug expression promptly dropped.

“Fortunately for you and your friends,” continued the princess, “it’s not quite grounds for arrest. I’ll simply clear up your misdemeanor with a warning. Goodbye, Firebrand.”

Firebrand’s eyes widened as he saw the princess’s horn begin to glow.

“If we find you stirring up trouble in Equestria, your ship will be grounded and you’ll face a bit worse than a mere fine.”

“Wait–!”

There was a blinding flash of light, and the princess was gone. Firebrand was still on the balcony of his ship. He blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened. However, when he looked out from the balcony, he found that they were no longer in Canterlot, but were instead surrounded on all sides by the sea.

Princess Celestia returned to the castle and was greeted by her guards.

“Your majesty!” the guard said. “What happened?”

“I simply moved them out of the way,” she said. “Just some hot-headed young ponies. I... hope they’ll grow out of it.”

“But still, what if they come back?”

“Well, then perhaps we should send out an order for all town police departments in Equestria. Tell them to keep a lookout for a white zeppelin, particularly if there are reports of pirate radio. If anything comes up the ship is to be grounded and its crew detained. And then send word back here.”

Firebrand was still fuming. He marched back into the ship’s corridor, brushing by a very confused Sweeps yet again on the way to the bridge.

“Captain!” said Signal over the intercom. “What happened?”

“We aren’t in Canterlot anymore,” said Firebrand. “The princess just twinkled us away.”

“Where are we?”

“Wish I knew. Just water, water everywhere...” He looked next to him. Consulting a map and a compass on panel next to him proved fairly useless – he had no idea where they were or which direction he could go in. Eventually he decided that the only way to go was forward. He flipped a switch. “Cogs, Bolter, get it running at top speed. We’re going on a trip.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” responded Bolter.

Firebrand took the wheel and steadied the ship as it went on its way over the blue expanse.

The Radio/Mediations

Memory 2
The Radio

I remember when I got my cutie mark. It was two days after my birthday, when my parents got me a little ham radio set. They told me I could use it to talk to the whole world.

So I took that little ham radio set and I tried to use it. For two days I tinkered with it, trying to receive and broadcast signals. I tried using my magic to prod at it, try to get its inner workings figured out.

Then, something just clicked. I tapped into that radio and I could see everything. I could see the waves in the air and hear everything that was being broadcast. Every piece of music, every bit of news, every Sunday morning joke show, every traffic and weather report. I could hear them, and at the very center, connected to all of them, was me. I could hear all the voices calling through the air, and every one of them saying the exact same thing:

Listen to me.

Chapter 3
Mediations

Celestia looked over her little committee of advisors. Her sister sat next to her, but she did not see the importance of the meeting.

“I do not see why we should be so concerned about an airship in town, particularly not an airship you sent away,” she said.

“Sometimes things that don’t seem that bad on the surface can be much, much worse underneath,” replied Celestia. “Now, here are the details – earlier today, on the anniversary of the end of humanity, a zeppelin flew over Canterlot. They sent out a broadcast reminding everypony of the date, and accusing me of genocide.”

“Genocide?” asked one of the advisors, a meek, pink earth pony. “What does that mean?”

“It means wiping out an entire genome,” replied one of the other advisors, a bespectacled, light amber unicorn. “Something the humans were very fond of doing to themselves, I should point out.”

“This is beside the point,” said Princess Celestia. “As it is, there are two issues. The first, and most obvious, is the effect this will have on the ponies in Canterlot.”

“I don’t think much will come of it,” said Princess Luna. “Their little speech seemed a bit too cryptic to actually spur anypony to action.”

“I think we can easily counteract their little radio show with a little public education,” said the amber unicorn. “Introduce a little human history in the school curriculum, run a little editorial in the paper. Remind them why the humans are gone. If any of them were questioning after that stunt, they won’t after they’re properly informed. Worst comes to worst, we could go on a few talkshows and dispel anything untowards.”

“Thank you, Decree,” said Celestia with a nod. “As for these ponies, we should try to find out as much as we can about them.”

“What do we know already?” asked Luna.

“The leader is named Firebrand,” said Celestia. “One of their members is named Vox. They’re young ponies, and from what Firebrand said, they have human ancestry.”

Decree snorted. “Figures. That could explain their rather un-ponylike behavior.”

The pink earth pony looked at him. “Huh?”

“Well, all that anger that their little ringleader has,” said Decree. “You’d never see that from a pony. Humans acted like that, though. Got so full of hate at absolutely nothing.”

“But... didn’t the conversions take that away?” asked another advisor. Murmurs went around the table.

“Apparently they weren’t thorough enough.”

“I bet it was the PER,” said one. “They were always sloppy and unprofessional.”

“Don’t talk about the PER,” said Decree. “My great-grandparents were with the PER, and they were instrumental in securing the world we have today. So think twice before you belittle–”

“Gentlestallions!” Luna boomed. “This is unproductive.”

“See if you can find anything,” said Celestia. “I thank you all for this, but I must return to my other royal duties.” She rose from her seat and departed from the chamber. Her sister, however, had other questions for her. She did, thankfully, have the courtesy to wait until they were out of earshot from the advisors.

“This is troubling you about these... protesters,” she said. “I think you may be worrying about them too much.”

“I can sense something,” Celestia said. “Can’t you?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I didn’t get to be the ruler of Equestria by having the biggest horn, Luna. There are things I know, or sometimes... sometimes I just know when something is important.”

“And... this 'Firebrand’?” asked Luna. “He is important?”

“I’m not sure. I just know that we haven’t seen the last of his band. I know that something isn’t right.”

“Then what do we do?”

“All we can do right now,” she said, “is try to put the pieces together and act accordingly. And hope, just... hope that things will be alright.”

Sweeps the janitor wasn’t really “in” with Firebrand’s whole “White Rose” club. He wasn’t really on-board with the whole “revolt against the princesses” thing, and he understood fairly little about humanity and its end. Unlike the other crew members, he himself did not have human ancestors, so he lacked that personal connection.

But he loved the ship. He’d always wanted to be on a zeppelin, and the chance to fly on one, especially a ship such as the White Rose, was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He made his way down the hallway, admiring the view out the windows – they were still just flying over open sea, but it was still a breathtaking sight.

At the end of the hall was the engine room. Sweeps could hear the dull hum of the ships engine from behind the door. He ruffled his wings a little – he could only imagine how dirty it might be in there.

There wasn’t any sort of off-limits sign, so he opened the door and peered inside. The engine, which propelled the ship, was roaring, while Cogs kept a watch on it. Her brother, Bolter, was reclining on a bench, enjoying a cola.

True to Sweeps’s expectations, the engine room was filthy, and the two engineers did not seem all that concerned with bathing, as even their brown coats couldn’t hide the dirt and oil.

“Well, heya, Sweeps,” said Bolter. “What brings you to the back end?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sweeps said, shrugging. “Just wanted to see the thing that makes the magic happen.”

“Eh, engine’s not that special,” said Bolter. “Just turns the propellers. The actual flying’s because it’s, well, a big balloon.”

“A very big balloon,” said Cogs.

Sweeps walked in, taking a look around. He marvelled at the contrast between the ships pristine white exterior and the dingy interior.

“Not a whole lot going on here,” said Cogs. “Might not look like much, but she runs well.”

“Makes our job seem more like a ride sometimes,” said Bolter.

“Heh,” chuckled Sweeps. “Yeah, I’m just along for a ride, too.”

Bolter took another drink of cola. “Yeah, you’re not, uh...”

“Not a human descendant, no,” said Sweeps.

“Ah,” said Bolter.

Sweeps sat down on what seemed like the least dusty section of the bench. “So... that’s why you’re here?”

“Huh?” asked Bolter.

“On this whole, um...” Sweeps looked for a delicate way to put it. “This ‘cause.’ Against Princess Celestia.”

“And Luna,” corrected Cogs.

“Well... what made you want to do this?” asked Sweeps.

Bolter finished off the rest of his cola. “Well, y’know Twilight Sparkle?”

“Princess Celestia’s old student?”

“That’s the one,” said Bolter. “I saw some really old archive footage of her speaking at one of the old Conversion Bureaus.”

“What’re those?” asked Sweeps.

“They were the old buildings,” said Cogs, “where the humans were turned into ponies. I’m gonna go get some more soda, k?”

“Sure,” said Bolter as Cogs left the engine room.

“Oh, okay...” said Sweeps. “But what about Twilight Sparkle?”

“Well,” Bolter continued, “I saw an old archived film of a speech she gave. Basically, she was talking about how humans are vain and stupid and greedy and how the people there made the right choice by converting.”

Bolter’s voice had gone low, and he kept looking at his cola bottle, as though wishing there were more in it. He gave a bitter chuckle.

“Y’know, it’s funny,” said Bolter. “It was at that point that I realized that I’d never been more angry in my life. I’d never really hated anything before that.”

“So you hated her?”

“Well, I hated what she was saying,” said Bolter. “I’m amazed they all didn’t get up and march right out of the room at that. History books sure never mentioned Twilight Sparkle being a racist. Guess it’s because there isn’t anypony left to complain.”

“Well, except you folks.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The door swung open and Cogs re-entered, carrying a pack of sodas.

“Next town we stop in we need groceries,” she said. “Assuming we get to a town anytime soon. Nice of the princess to leave us stranded over the water.”

“Say...” said Bolter. “Cogs, Sweeps here isn’t familiar with our old human traditions. I think tonight would be a good chance.”

“Huh?” asked Sweeps.

“I think that tonight we should indulge in that timeless human ritual,” said Bolter. “Movie night!”

Signal stood at the door to the bridge. The captain’s eyes were glued straight ahead as he guided the ship forward.

“Well,” she said. “Where are we going now?”

“I don’t know,” said Firebrand. “Stranded us in the middle of nowhere... you hearing anything?”

“Just usual radio stuff,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing that really tells us where we are. So we just gonna... keep going forward?”

“Unless someone has a better idea,” said Firebrand. “Just keep listening. See if you can find some sort of... near-local thing that’ll tell us where we are. Or any news about us. Definitely make sure you keep track of everything anypony says about us. That’s what’s important...” He mused. “So keep that horn of yours tuned. And as soon as we come across some civilization make sure Vox and Wordsworth are ready to give a broadcast.”

“Aye aye, captain,” she replied before turning to leave.

“Hey, captain,” said Bolter. “Any luck?”

“Not really,” said Firebrand. “Nothing as far as I can see.”

“Dang,” said Bolter.

“Engine running fine?”

“Yeah, fine,” said Bolter. “Say, uh, we were thinking of having a movie night. I mean, Cogs and I have some old film reels and we thought it’d be something fun to do...” There was a pause. “Cap’n?”

“Hold on...” Firebrand saw something poking up over the horizon: a tower of some sort. Had they finally come across solid ground? “I think we might’ve found something that isn’t water,” he said. “Yeah, movie night. We can do that. Anyway, stay on the line. We might be getting ready for a landing.” He gripped the steering wheel, grinning.

Decree stopped for a spot of tea at a local cafe. He surveyed the other ponies around them. They were going about their business as though everything were normal, and nothing had happened earlier that day. He smiled and took a sip. Seemed that everything would be absolutely fine. In all honesty, he didn’t know why Princess Celestia seemed concerned.

Those ponies on the zeppelin were just some whiny little malcontents. They popped up every now and again, young ponies hit by a surge of self-importance, just looking for something to complain about. And oh, they decided to complain about the end of humanity. He rolled his eyes and looked up at the sky.

It was a beautiful day. The sky was as blue as it could be, painted lightly with cirrus and dotted with birds. Occasionally a pegasus child or two would dark out across the blue, but that was a welcome little bit of excitement. Not like that blimp, which sat in the sky like a big pretentious cloud. He couldn’t understand why those ponies wanted to ruin such a fine day for everypony else...

Decree got up and walked over to a newspaper vendor. The little colt was ecstatic when Decree tossed a spare bit to him, but the royal advisor was not pleased to see the aforementioned pretentious cloud in a big spread on the front page. He’d gotten the late edition. Snorting in disgust, he opened it to the more mundane news – opening of museums, local contests, those sorts of things.

He shook his head. Thinking about the protesters just irritated him. As did a flower display he saw out of the corner of his eye. A mare was happily at work in her flower stall, with a tray of white roses prominently featured.

“What,” he said, “is that?”

The mare blinked at him. “Roses,” she said. “What do they look like?”

“Why are you carrying them?”

“Well, lots of ponies like roses,” she said. “They think they’re romantic. Besides, I carry lots of flowers – roses, lilies, lilacs, iris. I’m partial to iris, myself,” she giggled as she looked at her cutie mark, which bore the image of that flower. “I just thought to myself, what with that blimp that came in today–”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I just thought ‘white roses.’ I haven’t carried those in a while, and since I was thinking of them I decided it was a nice flower. I’m sure a lot of ponies might be thinking of them, too.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Good for business.”

Decree snorted in disgust and walked on.

The Play/Lost Causes

Memory 4

The Play

The following is an excerpt from the play, “The Only Home I Know,” by Wordsworth, for performance at the University of Mane.

[ROSE begins to leave the house. As she opens the door, she stops and, one last time, she looks back at the house.]

Rose: It’s nothing really special, in the end. Just a house. There are lots like them, and we’ll get another one just like it. A house made up of things a lot of houses are made of – wood, concrete, insulation, electrical wiring. The tv we got around to watch movies. The garden I used to tend, seeing if I was able to grow vegetables. The bed where we made our children. The notches in the wall where we marked how our children grew. The bookshelf with the vacant cupboard where the kids would hide when they didn’t want to do their chores, or take a bath, or go to bed. The rose bushes in the front that would bloom every spring. The hummingbird feeder where we’d watch the birds dart around. The walkways that we used to visit our neighbors, before they left. Nothing tangible. Just a lot of old memories.

[ALEC re-enters]

Alec: Rose, it’s time for us to go.

Rose: Just give me some more time. I don’t want to forget.

[They stand there for a minute. ROSE takes a breath and nods.]

Rose: Alright. I’m ready.

[The two exit. The lights go down, save for a small spotlight on the white rose in the middle of the stage.]

Wordsworth angrily folded the paper in front of him.

“The unmitigated gall!” he exclaimed across the table at Vox, who was trying his hardest to enjoy a simple lunch.

“Wordsworth, it’s the student newspaper, nopony cares what they think...”

“What they think is that I’m some sort of...” Wordsworth waved his hooves around his head. “Some kind of lying historical revisionist.” He opened the paper back up and read, “Our playwright likes to paint an altogether different picture from the actual historical one. Whitewashing mankind’s less-than-shining nature... the human family is depicted as one that is literally forced out of their homes by the ponies, conveniently ignoring the fact that all could, and was in many cases, solved by the simple act of conversion...”

“Wordsworth, you’re getting into a lather...”

“I have a right to get in a lather!” said Wordsworth. “This play was my family’s story, and I’m not going to see some snotty communications major staining it with lies! Well!” A quill and a sheet of parchment appeared in midair. “I know exactly what I am going to do?”

“Let me guess...”

“A very strongly-opinionated letter!” they both chanted in unison, though Wordsworth was much more enthusiastic.

Chapter 5

Lost Causes

Jimmy Stewart was giving a speech he’d given many times before. It was delivered in black and white to an uninterested audience, a hoarse whisper, about the importance of lost causes. In his hands were crumpled pieces of paper, hundreds of letters condemning him. He gave his last words before collapsing, the result of nonstop talking with no breaks for food, water, or the bathroom.

He’d lost. But wait, not all was through. There was a gunshot. The corrupt senator had tried to kill himself and, swayed by nothing more than the power of Mr. Smith’s morality, was spilling all the truth about the political machine, vindicating the young idealist.

Congress was in an uproar and the weak Mr. Smith was carried away, weak, but ultimately victorious.

The credits rolled, and the lines in the room came back on. The ship’s crew stirred in their seats, thankful that they could now speak without disrupting the movie-viewing experience.

Sweeps the janitor was still glued to his seat. “That was great,” he said. “Are there more movies like that?”

“I got Wall-E,” suggested Bolter.

“There isn’t much of a market for preserved human films,” said Bill, sitting in the back of the room. “Even for the ones that did get preserved. You’re more likely to find animated features, like Wall-E. Ponies just liked the cartoons more, more of them were preserved and they simply remained more popular than the likes of this.” He gestured to the screen. “Poor Quentin Tarantino never stood a chance...”

Firebrand flicked the light switch back on with his wing. “We can watch the other movie later,” he said. “For now I think we should all get to sleep. Unless I’m a terrible navigator, we should be reaching land tomorrow morning. Signal, Wordsworth, Vox, get a broadcast ready.”

“Got it, Cap,” said Signal, giving a mock salute.

Firebrand departed from the movie room, heading down the hallway to his own quarters. He stopped, looking out the windows that lined the hallway, looking out over the night sea. The sky was clear as crystal, not a cloud in sight, as the stars and moon beamed down over the endless water. Something about it filled him with a sense of complete, abject loneliness, a sense of emptiness, like he were nothing more than an insignificant speck on a vast landscape. But then sometimes he always felt that way.

For some reason Firebrand couldn’t quite comprehend, somehow the hallways on the ship always seemed longer than they actually were. This didn’t scare him, though. He just knew that it was his ship. His special, beautiful ship.

He heard hoofsteps, but didn’t turn.

“The movies that did make it in,” said Bill’s voice. “Quite clever. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington tells a story of corruption in the human political system. Wall-E shows how humans destroyed, or would have destroyed, their environment. Subtle, though – in the end, they show how the humans can be redeemed. So for a pony watching it, it says to them that humans are very, very flawed, but they can rise above that... for example, by turning into a pony.”

Firebrand continued to stare out the window. “We’re on earth, aren’t we?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Bill. “What’s left of it, at least. There isn’t very much left: an expanse of the Atlantic ocean and some of the North American east coast. It doesn’t have much longer until the barrier completely swallows it up, I’m afraid.”

Firebrand turned around. “But... if there’s still some of earth, then maybe there are still humans–”

Bill shook his head. “No. Even if earth is still here, the air isn’t unbreathable. Not by humans, at least. You saw New Venice.”

Firebrand walked past him, his mind still turning wheels.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “Why would Celestia just... zap us over to earth?”

“To show you that it’s dead,” said Bill. The captain stopped and slowly turned around. “You can’t bring it back, Firebrand. Even if Wordsworth writes the most convincing leaflets or Vox says the most dramatic speeches or Signal plays the most beautiful music. It’s gone, dead and crumbling away. And there isn’t any way to change that.”

“Who asked what you thought?” Firebrand snorted.

Bill lowered his face and smiled somberly. Firebrand turned to the outer door, looking through the glass.

“She does this to make me give up...” muttered Firebrand. “If she thinks she can do that, guess she isn’t as smart as we all thought, huh?”

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

“Oh, I bet,” said Firebrand. “I haven’t liked anything I’ve seen for a while.”

“You’re an angry pony, Firebrand,” said Bill. “Maybe you should stop and consider whether you’re really pursuing a righteous end or just throwing a temper tantrum.”

Firebrand whirled around, his nostrils flaring. “Well maybe I am,” he said. “Maybe I am throwing a, a hissy-fit or something. But maybe I’m entitled to that. I get mad, Bill. I get mad a lot. I get mad at almost everything I see sometimes. Aren’t I allowed to do that? Aren’t I allowed to scream when I’m hurt? When I want someone to listen?”

Bill stood there for a moment. “Yes, I suppose you are.”

Firebrand grumbled and opened the door to the balcony before heading outside.

The cold, empty wind carried Firebrand above his ship. Thousands of stars shone overhead as the sea churned beneath them all. The night was cold, melancholy, and it left Firebrand feeling alone, even with his ship of friends. That one horrifying thought could not keep from echoing in his mind – it was all dead. What use was there to rail against the princess? What was the point of going for that lost cause? Did he even have a cause at all?

He looked up at the sky. It was absolutely littered with stars, so many it overwhelmed him. The sky was so clear he felt he could see the entire cosmos.

But it was a different cosmos than he had known. The starry skies above earth, and those above Equestria, were not the same, he knew. It didn’t seem to make sense to him, so similar, yet so very far apart.

He shook his head and looked back over the sea. Everything here seemed so incredibly empty to him. No other ponies but himself and his crew. No other ponies... no royal guard, no princesses. And no humans. Nopony to hear their call. Empty.

It seemed the sun had risen just to greet the ship as it came over the land. The White Rose landed on the outskirts of what had once been a human city, now ruined, overlooking to the coast. The dilapidated, rotten buildings seemed to crumble in the very air.

Firebrand and his crew were silent as they walked in, each of them with a different composure. Sweeps seemed scared. Signal looked almost sad. Firebrand’s expression, however, was unreadable, his stone face almost as dead as the city around them.

They walked down the street. A quiet breeze blew through the town, making them shiver. A breeze without a pegasus in sight.

Wordsworth broke the silence. “I remember a poem,” he said to Vox. “It’s about this guy. He’s traveling, and he comes back to his old home. He remembers all these fond memories about this place, out in the wilderness in his childhood, friends and family. And now he comes back to it. But now all the friends and family are gone, and the house stands empty, save for some birds that roost in the chimney. And he says goodbye to the house and closes the door, never to return again.”

“Sounds like a sad poem,” said Vox.

“All poems are sad,” muttered Signal.

“I don’t like it here,” said Sweeps. “It’s a ghost town.”

Firebrand peered into the broken windows of buildings that had once been shops. The counters were bare, save for now-worthless odds and ends, covered in a thick layer of dust. Old signs, mostly faded, told the name of the town, of the streets. But the names no longer held any meaning, any importance. Old, forgotten, dead names, of the old, forgotten, dead town.

Wordsworth looked down at a piece of paper on the sidewalk. He attempted to lift it with his magic, but it crumbled into dust and blew away in the breeze.

None of them strayed into the buildings. It was like New Venice - a building was unstable, ready to collapse should a stray puff of air blow on it from the wrong angle.

“The... the purifiers did this?” asked Sweeps.

“Hoo boy they did,” drawled Cogs. “Air blows in, people start choking. Heh,” she laughed darkly. “The ponies, well... they didn’t take into account Earth’s uncontrolled weather. There were riots, and-” She was cut off when she bumped right into her brother ahead of her. “Hey, Bolter, why’d you-” Then she saw why they had stopped.

Firebrand stood, legs locked in the middle of the road, staring ahead at the building ahead of him.

It was a large building with crumbling signs that had likely at one point been large and flashy. The building’s wide front door lay right under another sign that read Conversion Bureau. The shining glass doors and wide windows still shined in the sunlight, as though it had somehow decayed less than the buildings around it.

This had been it. One of the establishments that popped up all over the earth to entice the populace to come over to the other side. To become ponies. To leave everything behind and let it crumble into dust. To forget.

Then there was a cry, and then a crash as a stone crashed through one of the windows, shattering it.

Firebrand spread his wings, grabbing every loose stone or chunk of concrete off of the ground, and hurling them at the building. His teeth were gritted, and he let out an angry shout with every stone he threw.

Each stone smashed the glass windows of the old bureau. Firebrand dashed across the street, looking for more, while his friends just stood the side and stared, too restrained to join in the act, but also unsure of what to do.

And soon enough, Firebrand ran out of rocks. He stood there, panting for breath. He looked from the now-wrecked bureau to his friends. Seeing their faces, he straightened up, attempting to regain his composure.

“I...” he said. He shook his head. “We’re going back to the ship...” he said, his voice full of tension. “We’re going back to the ship, and we’re heading back to Equestria.” The others nodded, not saying anything, but turning to head back to the ship.

Firebrand, however, remained where he stood. Casting one last, scornful look at the building that stood for the end of humanity, he whispered.

“We’ll make them remember.”

The Purifier/And Despair

Memory 3
The Purifier

“So, uh...” mumbled Applejack. “What is it?”

The metallic device seemed oddly out-of-place, seated as it was in the middle of Twilight’s tree library, like a bust on display. It was an odd square machine, extruding pipes like smokestacks.

“This,” said Twilight proudly, “is a Purifier. I invented it for the humans. I actually got the idea from Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy smiled shyly and blushed. “Well...” she said, “not really. I was just talking about how sad it made me... seeing what the humans did to the world around them, and I just wished there was some way to fix it.”

I never wanted this to happen... I never, ever dreamed that what we did would hurt anyone. I can’t continue doing this. What I’ve done is more than I’ll ever want to live with.

“And, sure enough,” said Twilight, “I decided there is.”

“Sooooooo...” said Rainbow Dash, “you made a big clanky metal thing to protect the bunnies? Seems an awful waste of time.”

“Now, Rainbow Dash, don’t scoff,” scolded Rarity.

“Thank you, Rarity,” said Twilight, turning to face her friends. “Now, the purpose of the Purifier is to act as a sort of... barrier to preserve and restore natural areas. You know how the barrier around Equestria works, right?”

Pinkie Pie, meanwhile, had hopped over to the machine and was peering down the tubes. “Ooh, let’s make more and make a band!”

“Uhh, Pinkie...” said Applejack.

Suddenly, Pinkie blew into the pipes, producing deep musical tones. Twilight stared, trying to comprehend the seeming impossibility. Pinkie Pie simply looked up and blithely grinned.

When we started this, I thought it would make everyone happy. But they aren’t happy, are they?

“As I was saying,” said Twilight Sparkle. “You know the barrier?”

“Ooh!” said Pinkie, bouncing up and down. “Wait, no...”

“Well, the exact mechanics are not the same, but the principle remains,” said Twilight. “The air in our Equestria is magic. Humans and human-made structures cannot survive in it.”

“So...” said Applejack, piecing it together. “Your goal is to basically smoke the humans out?”

“But...” said Fluttershy.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like that,” said Twilight. “We’re going to put them in a few places where humans don’t inhabit. Important natural areas like rain forests. The Purifiers will do away with the pollution and the human-made structures and, yes, act as a deterrent.”

“But the humans won’t be able to go there again?” she asked. “Ah dunno. Somehow Ah don’t think they’ll play ball. Ah mean, them HLF folks. Won’t they be mighty sore?”

“I wouldn’t worry about them,” said Twilight. “Once the machines are activated there’s no way they can get anywhere near them. Even if they wore hazmat suits, the air would eat right through them.”

“I’m sure that even they will see reason eventually,” said Rarity, looking over the machine. “They’re not mindless brutes, contrary to what some of us think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, bored of the conversation already and flying to sit on a bookshelf.

“Besides, once the restorations are done,” said Twilight, “we’ll take the Purifiers away.”

“Well, Ah suppose that’s all well and good,” conceded Applejack.

You can dress it up all you like, Twi. But all the dressing, all the fancy talking gymnastics in the Equestria, in the world, doesn’t change the truth. You lied, Twilight.

“Oh, won’t it be wonderful?” asked Rarity. “I can only imagine what it must be like for a human child, to see a rain forest all dirty and ruined. Then,” she beamed, “once the Purifiers have done their work, they can go see them in their natural state! Perfect and untarnished. Well, hopefully they won’t ruin it again, but, we have our work.”

And as I watched them leave I was hurt by this awful, awful question. What did I give them, Twilight? Please, tell me.

Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes and breathed in her pride. This was going to be her act, her invention that would save Equestria – no, not just Equestria, the entire world.

“So, when do we put ‘em out?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Tomorrow,” said Twilight.

“Sweet,” said Dash.

I'm not very good at talking like you or the others are, so I'll just keep it simple: I quit.

Chapter 4
And Despair

In the middle of the ocean there was a tower. Many towers, in fact, all sticking out of the ocean. Many of them did not stand as straight as they should have, though. Some were toppled, feebly poking out of the water, crumbling back into the sea. The various buildings were connected by wide walkways, many of them crumbling, as well. Dotted around the city were large metal bowls, some of them still holding fan blades that alluded to a previous function.

The White Rose landed in the middle of one such platform along the edges of what remained of the city.

The ship’s ramp lowered, and the seven ponies on board walked on down.

“What is this place?” asked Sweeps, looking around nervously. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s a human city,” said Cogs. “Amazing. Too bad it’s been eroded by the air.”

“The air?” asked Sweeps.

“The air,” repeated Bolter. “Corrosive to human structures.”

“Spooky place,” said Vox, stepping off of the ramp and onto the concrete. He let out a cry as his hoof seemed to sink right into the ground. “What the-?!” He lifted his hoof up, revealing that the ground now had a very distinct indentation.”

The ponies were silent, as the ground creaked under the weight of the ship. Firebrand stood at the base of the ramp, looking out over the town.

“We shouldn’t have landed,” said Firebrand. “All of you get her back in the air.” He looked back out to the city. “I’ll take a look around myself and get back. In the meantime you pick out a movie.”

Before Wordsworth was able to go “wait!”, Firebrand had spread his wings and took off into the city.

“Okay,” said Bolter. “So, we got Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and Wall-E.”

Firebrand had not been shocked to see the city, nor gloomed by its dilapidated condition. He had expected it, after all. As he flew past the broken windows of the dusty buildings and peeled, rotten posters, all he could feel was the same smoldering anger that he’d felt for years.

He scanned the buildings and the roads, littered as they were with decaying rubble and garbage. Seeing an opening – a window that appeared to rotted right off of the wall – he flew inside, carefully testing the floor with his hooves before landing. He was marginally more safe than his friends would have been. The pegasus magic that allowed him to walk on clouds was all that allowed him to walk on the surface of the human ground without shattering it, but even then it was very slight.

It was something like an empty office building, littered with papers. Just like the rest of the city, everything was in a state of decay, with the papers so worn and decayed that Firebrand could barely make anything out.

...confusion regarding our allegiances with some pony factions and not others. In particular...of members who fall victim to PER attacks...important differences between conv...d our allies in the Steeds. The most obviou...

We will not make the same mistake twice.

Firebrand continued through the halls. They were dark and stuffy, as the lights and ventilation systems had no doubt failed years ago. He dared not test any closed doors, for fear they would cause the whole building to crumble. There were, however, open doorways that did not pose this problem.

Stepping through one doorway, he found that half of the room had crumbled away, creating a sort of crude balcony overlooking the rest of the city. He stepped over to the edge, looking out at the sad, ruined city on the water.

“They never really decided on a name,” said a voice. “Some called it Atlantis, others called it New Venice, after the original Venice was finally sunk by the Purification.”

Firebrand could never quite say what the other pony looked like. For some reason any details as to the pony’s colors or mane style quickly faded from his memory, as though he had written them off as unimportant. It was an earth pony stallion, tall, and wearing a suit. Either the suit was covering his flank or Firebrand was as unable to remember his cutie mark as he was able to remember anything else about him.

“They were quite proud of it,” the stallion continued. “You might’ve noticed the fans around outside. Those were to blow the Purified air away from the city. They used hydroponics to grow their food and drew energy from the ocean currents. It was built to be a sustainable refuge for the humans that the ponies couldn’t get to.

“What happened?” Firebrand asked.

“Oh, nothing really,” said the stallion, walking over to the edge. “They made some mistakes, oversights, the sorts of things that happen. This city was a prototype of sorts. Sadly, it was a prototype that the Human Liberation Front put a lot of time and resources into. And it all turned out to be, well...”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence for Firebrand to understand what he meant.

“But,” said the stallion, “sometimes, when the sunlight hits just right, I think it still shines.”

Firebrand shifted his eyes, scanning the nondescript stallion. “What are you, a tour guide?”

“It’s a pretty miserable occupation when there aren’t any tourists.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing a tour,” said Firebrand. “Me and my crew, in my ship.” He grinned. “Touring Equestria. Maybe more, depending on what direction we’re headed.”

“Mm-hmm,” said the stallion. Slowly, he turned to walk away, back into the halls. Firebrand returned to his stewing, about how the machinations of Princess Celestia and her Six had destroyed this city. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Wait!” he called. The stallion stopped, patiently. “You said the HLF built this?”

“Yes,” the stallion replied. “Towards the end of the... well, the ponies called it the Purification. The HLF called it the war. Anyway, towards the end they constructed a number of strongholds, such as this. The later ones didn’t have quite the same sort of foibles. For example, they started using some pony construction to keep it from corroding.”

“I’d go with the war,” said Firebrand.

“Hmm,” said the stallion. “Doesn’t really matter what you call it. That was nearly a hundred years ago.”

Firebrand snorted, looking at the desks. “Nearly a hundred years...” he repeated. “Sure didn’t take everypony long to forget.”

“You haven’t forgotten.”

Firebrand turned to look at him. He couldn’t tell what that statement was supposed to mean. Was it supposed to be encouraging? Condescending? A simple statement of fact?

“I’ll never forget,” Firebrand said. “And I’ll make sure they never will, either.”

The stallion smiled. “I look forward to seeing how you plan to do that.”

Firebrand laughed. “I have a ship and a crew. Like I said, we’re going on tour.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“We have a printing press and a ham radio set. We can print out hundreds of leaflets and broadcast our messages everywhere there’s a radio. We’ve got a fine writer, a fine speaker, and a fine radio operator. And my engineers keep the ship flying. And...” Firebrand grinned. “We got our hooves on a Purifier.”

The stallion smiled. “It gets better.”

“Oh, it will,” said Firebrand. “It will. And when we tell everypony in Equestria and they know, when they understand, well,” he laughed, “let’s see Princess Celestia wave her horn and poof that away.”

“You should probably step away from that ledge.”

“Huh?”

There was a cracking sound and the floor gave way beneath Firebrand’s feet. He spread his wings, catching himself in the air as the concrete and rebar tumbled below.

“Such is the melancholy of a dead city,” said the stallion. “A ghost town, crumbling back into the sea.”

Firebrand looked back at him as he landed back onto the floor (though with a fair bit more caution). “I should go,” said Firebrand. “My crew will start wondering where I went. Need to get back to Equestria and do our work.” He spread his wings again, about to fly off, when another thought occurred to him. It didn’t quite make a whole lot of sense with this strange stallion, but still... “How would you like to come on my airship?” he asked. “There’s enough room.”

The stallion smiled. “That would be delightful. I do like airships. I think most do. They have a lot of appeal.”

“We’ll fly the ship around here so you can get on.” Firebrand started to go again, and yet again he stopped. “My name is Firebrand,” he said after a pause.

The stallion nodded his head politely. “Bill.”