The Manehattan Project

        A strong breeze rolled through the city of Manehattan, vicariously shuffling around dust and debris like a small child throwing a temper tantrum. The afternoon sun was setting in the west, casting an orangish red hue across the tall buildings and street corners. Carts pulled by ponies could be seen populating the streets and a cacophony of wooden wheels on concrete and muddled speech was all one could hear during the rush-hour traffic. Several notable locations were also adding to the city noise with their dance-club style music, and one in particular with symphonic music, though none could be distinguished from any other from afar.

        Vinyl Scratch sat beside one of these clubs, her fur coat tattered and stained with alcohol in a few places. She half-lied and half-sat down near the entrance of the club. Beside her was a small saddlebag containing vinyl records and another bottle of her favorite alcoholic beverage, as well as her cellphone. A brown-coated stallion with nicely groomed tan hair and a business suit exited the building and turned to face the semi-prone and drunken mare.

        “Vinyl, baby, you’re killin’ me here!” he stated, waving his hoof around as he spoke. “Y’can’t just nap in front of my club. Ponies’re gettin’ angry!”

        Vinyl Scratch sat up as much as she could, and scratched her head causing some strands of her disheveled mane to fall back to their normal side. She took a sip of her drink and placed it on the sidewalk with a “Tink!”

        “Well where’m’I s’pposed to take one?” she stammered, a thick slur permeating her speech. Vinyl stood up fully, wobbling in place to catch herself. The stallion grimaced and pointed to an apartment building a few blocks away. The building was tall like every other building in Manehattan, and just as grey and dull. Some bricks were missing but overall the building looked fine and most residents did not complain. It was a nice place to call home, she thought.

        Vinyl sighed and stumbled for a few feet, bumping into the club owner. She attempted to make eye-contact through her increasingly blurred vision before asking, “Wha’time is it, anyway?”

“8 p.m., Vinyl. You’ve been out here since last night’s show.”

“Wow, really?” Vinyl asked, surprised and trying to regain focus. The stallion nodded. Vinyl Scratch took a second to let the gears and cogs turn in her head before reaching a startling realization. “My concert! It’s- it’s. . .”

        “In a few hours, that’s right,” the stallion quipped. Mildly sobered, Vinyl dashed into the street to make time to get home but tripped on her tail sending herself sliding into a trash can. She picked herself up, and looked around to the ponies trying not to giggle at her comical misfortune, and trying to no avail not to turn a bright shade of pink. Vinyl removed the banana peel from her mane and decided to make her way home at a slightly slower speed.

Did I really get thatwasted last night? thought Vinyl, unable to remember the events that transpired previously. Let’s see. . . I remember setting up my gear. . . Neon Lights helped me with the set. . . And then the after-party. Wait, did I call Octavia!?

        Vinyl’s foot caught something metal which caused her to trip, yet again mustering strange looks from locals, albeit this time with a little more excruciating facial pain. She stood back up rubbing her snout, and looked around to see the object that caused her to fall. On the ground there was a small octagonal metal disk, and upon further inspection had strange markings on it around the center. She flipped it over and on the back there was a small blue diamond cut neatly and placed within the metal with great tact. Jutting outward from the diamond were grayish lines that looked much like magical runes, though nothing this weird could be used for magic. It almost looks electronic, thought Vinyl.

        “Somepony must’ve dropped this. Oh well, finders-keepers!” she said, smiling as she placed it into her saddlebag beside the records. I wonder what it’s for, though? thought Vinyl, continuing her slow trip home. I should show Octavia. She really likes ornate things.

        “That reminds me, Octavia probably tried to get a hold of me after the show last night. I’d better check my messages.” Vinyl lifted her phone up and turned it on. As she suspected, two missed calls and a new text message icon were clearly visible “I’d better get home then.”

        Eventually, Vinyl Scratch made it to her apartment and began ascending the stairs. Vinyl noted that they seemed to wind on and on forever as she circled around the spiral staircase to make it to the top floor. Finally she made it to her level of the building and started searching for her room, room 1702.

        Vinyl removed her sunglasses and squinted her eyes as she walked by several doors. 1698, 1699, 1700, ah, there it is! Vinyl Scratch dropped her bag beside her and lifted the rug in front of her door by her teeth. Underneath the rug was a small bronze key that Octavia hid for Vinyl if she ever lost her key. Vinyl used her hoof to drag it out from under the rug before dropping the rug in favor of grabbing the key. She lifted it to the door, and struggled momentarily to actually put it into the hole. Soon enough though she succeeded and begun turning the key.

        Vinyl grabbed her saddlebag and dragged it through her door, opting not to hang it up anywhere but just leave it in front of her couch, where she fell, creating a soft but noticeable “Plop!”

        “Vinyl? Is that you?” called out a voice from another room. Vinyl Scratch didn't answer, and almost began dozing off. She heard hoofsteps coming from a few rooms away so she decided to sit up a little. Vinyl licked her hoof and attempted to smooth her mane down a little bit, but she knew as well as anypony that her hair wasn't going to cooperate.

        “Vinyl?” Octavia was right next to her now, although Vinyl didn't see her come in. She was freshly showered and covered mostly by a large towel that Vinyl bought her a few years back. Octavia smelled sweet naturally, but the addition of her shampoo made her downright irresistible. “You know I sent you a text this morning, Vinyl,” said Octavia, scanning Vinyl’s unkempt appearance head-to-toe. “Though I can’t imagine why you didn't get it.”

        “Sorry, Octy. I never mean to party as hard as I do,” Vinyl replied softly with a giggle. Octavia smiled as she removed her mane from the towel, letting it all fall over her face before elegantly shaking it into place.

        “I’m just glad you’re alright,” replied Octavia. “The last thing I need to hear is that you've been hurt.”

        Vinyl scanned Octavia and scratched her chin slowly. “Is everything alright, Vinyl?”

        “Did you get in a fight or something, Octavia?” Vinyl said bluntly, eliciting a strange look from Octavia.

        “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re referring to, Vinyl,” she said, shifting her foreleg behind the other. Vinyl stared Octavia in the eye and raised an eyebrow. Octavia shrugged before pulling her leg back, putting a fresh red Z-shaped scar on her left foreleg into view.

        “Oooh, that looks nasty. Are you sure you’re okay Octy?”

        “Yes, yes, it’s quite alright,” said Octavia, moving to sit down beside Vinyl Scratch. “Don’t worry about me, I am tougher than I look.” Octavia smiled cheerily and Vinyl began giggling.

        “Well alright then. That reminds me, what are your plans for tonight, Octavia?” said Vinyl, making a second attempt to smooth her unkempt hair into a semi-decent position. Octavia thought for a second before responding.

        “I believe I’m free tonight, actually. Don’t you have that electronic calendar around here somewhere?” Octavia peeked around the room looking for it, to no avail. Vinyl clapped her hooves twice and a holographic screen came from an unknown location. The screen displayed many familiar symbols to Octavia, yet she couldn't operate the programs if Vinyl’s life depended on it.

        “D.A.I.G.O., Run Calendar. User Octavia.” As Vinyl said the command, the hologram shifted and brought up a screen with a prompt.

“Please enter your password, Miss Octavia,” said the A.I.

        “Deceptive Cadence,” said Octavia quickly, before Vinyl could speak.

“Today’s date is July 20th, 1011. On this date, your calendar is empty.”

        Octavia looked at Vinyl cheerfully. “So I guess that clears it up. What do you have in mind, Vinyl?”

        “Well, you still haven’t came to one of my after parties,” Vinyl said, causing a slight groan from Octavia. “Oh, come on, just because you’re mother doesn't approve of it, doesn't mean you have to stay sober!” Vinyl exclaimed, placing her hooves on Octavia’s shoulders for emphasis. “If anything, that’s a good reason to do the opposite.”

        “I’m just not into drinking, Vinyl,” Octavia said bluntly. “Or smoking for that matter.”

        Vinyl dropped the smirk for a more serious face. “Have you ever tried either?” Octavia shook her head. “Then how do you know? Look, why don’t you come to my show, and afterward I’ll let you decide if you want to – indulge yourself.”

        “I’ll come, but only because I want to support you,” said Octavia matter-of-factly. “You have been doing three to four shows a week recently and the least a good friend could do is show up to a few.”

        “Yes!” Vinyl exclaimed, signalling a victory with her forelegs. “You will not regret it Octy!”

        Octavia put her head in her hooves and sighed. Vinyl Scratch hugged Octavia before she readied herself to get into the shower and get ready for her show. Besides Octavia being there, Vinyl was excited that she chose that show out of all others. That night Vinyl would be debuting her new album, and there were sure to be many, many fans there. Plus, Vinyl thought, Octavia is going to be too busy with the Canterlot Symphonic Orchestra in about a month to attend any of her shows for a while.

Mare Do Well’s log, February 8th. 1012

The winter is still as harsh as always here in Manehattan, but it is likely made worse by the disaster. All I know at this moment is the state of the city is growing unstable. The patrons have left and the few who had no choice are becoming fatally sick. If only there was a way to save them all.

Up ahead I see the hole where the explosion took place. I can see numerous dead bodies. They’re dropping like flies. Now the civil unrest is compounded by Equestria’s last ditch efforts to contain the infection. I never would have suspected the princesses to’ve done something like this. I can’t shake the feeling that they did it to save their image more so than the population of Equestria.

You can trust nopony anymore. Every last one of them are fighting for themselves and nothing else. The infrastructure of Equestria has failed but at least there are regions that have yet to be infected. I will keep searching for survivors. It is my duty to return Equestria to it’s former glory.

But the world is changing fast. For the worst. All I can predict is that in a few months, there will be no more governments, no more order. The once supremely moral country of Equestria is now a blood-bath. I fear that this may be our extinction event. In any case, my research into what went wrong in that laboratory has not been fruitful. If I find the princesses I’ll ask them about it. That is, if they haven’t run off to save themselves.

I owe it all to *her***

        Mare Do Well stopped the recording and placed the device back on her watch. She stepped on the side of the roof of Manehattan’s bank and drew her grappling hook. Taking careful aim, she launched the hook into a nearby building and began swinging from building to building to continue her search.

        Just then, Mare Do Well received a message on her watch. Surprised, she stopped in her tracks and answered the call.

        “Hello, is anyone there?” the voice said.

        “This is Mare Do Well, who are you?”

        “They’re-” the audio cut out briefly. “I can’t save her. Please, I know what happened in the laboratory, just p-”

        “Hello?” Mare Do Well said. “Hello? Are you there?” The transmission cut out. Frustrated, Mare Do Well almost threw the watch off of the building before restraining herself. The watch was both her lifeline and a significant memento of her friend.

        Mare Do Well began searching for coordinates from the call, in attempt to find more survivors. She ran a few programs, but determined that the message was too staticky to really be able to trace it by conventional means. She looked again at the message, and realized the signal strength was very low, but that it came from a similar device to hers. The device almost seemed identical, but there was only one of Mare Do Well’s devices in the world, considering electronics was a lost art in Equestria. There were only a hoofful of ponies who understood it.

        “Wait! That’s it!” Mare Do Well exclaimed excitedly. “If there are only a few ponies who could make such a device, then that likely limits the number who could have sent the message. Let’s see, I remember Princess Luna understood electronics, and um-” Mare Do Well sat down and began thinking.

        “The guy who ran Manehattan’s Arcade, Twilight Sparkle, and. . .”

        Mare Do Well put her hoof to her face and began sobbing, pulling up her cape to wipe the tears. Her murky vision reminded her of the vision she has when she drinks alcohol. A drink that she wouldn't mind right now.

“Why couldn't it be me instead of her?” Mare Do Well screamed at nothing. The whole city of Manehattan has been silent since the incident and she had begun to get use to it.