Prologue: Factory of Sorrow
I've been in this room for as long as I can remember. I don't remember being alive. I can't feel, smell, taste, or do most of the other things that the living can do. If I was alive at one point, did I have friends, did I experience life to its fullest extent, did I die with a smile on my face? Those questions would keep me up if I could sleep. I will never know what life was like, at least I don't remember.
Occasionally, a pony would be forced to lie down in this dark room. When the doorknob to this room turned and clicked for the first time, the pony would start to smile thinking a visitor had come. Of course, in this room without light, the pony's smile become nothing but a shadow of its existence as they would see a nurse on a routine checkup trot in. The smile that lasted no more than half a second would be the last smile they would ever have in this room. In this room so far from the light, not even the most brilliant diamond would sparkle here. At times, a pony would beg a nurse to be placed in another room, a room with a window for natural light. The nurse would always reply the same dull words as if she were a robot following her protocol: "The other rooms are full; sorry, you have to stay here."
Sometimes, I wonder if my presence here is causing this room to be so dark. Does my past existence reflect on this room? Was I so hated and depressed that even after death, residue of my life besmirched this room? If I had just disappeared from this room, would light shine here too, would the patients here have visitors and finally be able to smile? Perhaps, I am a thief stealing the light out of this room, stealing the happiness out of a pony's damaged life, killing the already dying world, and my disappearance from this world would only be a benefit. But of course, I have already tried this. I don't know how to disappear. Me being here for as long as I have is nothing but torture. The only ponies I see are the ponies that are suffering, terrified of this room, and the nurses that refuse to free them of this hell as if it were some sort of punishment.
I don't know a lot of things, as whatever I have known in life- had I ever been alive, has been forgotten; however, ever since I was born into this hell, I can be certain that I am bound to this room. I can never leave, and I can never die. I don't know my past. I don't remember having any friends or family, and the feeling of life is but of a void. I fear that I will be here forever, listening to the silent cries of the ponies that are too bound to this room. Nothing in this room is happy. There is no light in this room. There is no happiness, no laughter. This room is void of anything good, and the ponies that leave through the gates of this hell are too drained of it. I am condemned to work in this factory of sorrow, and as I am doomed to be here, those who suffer the same fate as I are too working, and will expand this factory to the world outside of my own. However, I'm glad that I don't have to suffer alone, and the ponies that suffer here would also love to know that they aren't suffering alone, because I am here; "misery loves company," and I am the dead proof of that.
