Nonfiction, Book 1: A Drop In The Ocean

It was a wonderfully sunny morning when Violet's team was finishing up. Although, very few of Equestria's mornings weren't wonderfully sunny. Beams of golden sunlight trailed through the sunroof that Atom had transmuted, and there were birds to be heard chirping through it.

"The workbench goes over there. No, there! There! Ughh," Violet had been supervising the renovations since noon the previous day, and though no-one had gotten any sleep, Violet was wearing the least thin. As she rubbed the bridge of her muzzle, she only hoped that Genre's 'signature morning after breakfast' would be worth the wait, especially as he had been working on it for the past hour, "Just- just leave it there, I'll move it later. Mike, remind me to install a cargo elevator."

"Will do," Mike grunted as he and Applejack stood the workbench on it's feet. Applejack had volunteered to help Mike move the necessary cargo from the D.D.C. to the Lab as a gesture of goodwill, but it was likely she wanted to talk to him as well.

"And they fired ya fer' keeping yourself alive?" She asked.

"Yeah, and the fact that I couldn't afford deodorant on five bucks an hour."

"Gosh, that's horrible. Hope they didn't make ya stay fer' overtime," Applejack said with a small laugh, "So where else did'ja work?"

"Eh, I've done this and that," Doorjam said, moving towards the door with her, "Mallcop, mall janitor, mall protester, wheelman, hell I even worked as a bodyguard for a Russian mob boss for a stint in the eighties. Started thinking about quitting when I came into work and found my supervisor's head in a pile, three feet from his body."

As Applejack followed him, staring in a mixture of horror and amazement, Violet regained her composure, "Alright. Spectrum, Atom, how are the barracks coming?"

"We're ahead of schedule, ma'am!" Red Alert shouted over the radio. A few hours back he had found an old radio while digging, and asked Violet to rig it for interuniversal communication standards. She hadn't expected him to tune a radio of infinite possibility to a station that only played a grating army tune. Red Alert peeked his head into the now square main room which previously housed Twilight's researching equipment, "At this rate we'll be done before breakfast. Monotone! Double time! We need that dirt out of here fast!" He said, diving back into the remaining dirt, and flinging his Entrenching Tool wildly, "Take that you topsoil bastards!"

Violet rolled her eyes, "At this rate, Equestria will have a space program before breakfast..." Violet moved back to the table at the middle of the main room to examine her floor plan. It was hardly a floor plan, it looked as if someone had drawn four squares in a T shape onto blue paper, and labeled them. It wasn't much space to work with, but she supposed it was temporary. A very exact knock sounded at the door. It was specific, but soft. Lazy, "Enter."

The noble princess entered the building clad in the royal regalia of a bathrobe and slippers, "You're all up early," Twilight said from behind her coffee.

"Late," Violet corrected. Her gaze didn't move an inch, as she didn't deem it necessary to look up from the modification of interior reinforcements for the sake of pointless social pandering.

"You are dirt to me! You are dirt to everyone! It is because you are an dishonorable maggot fruit bowl! Who is made of dirt! And maggots!" Red Alert dug with great fervor, insulting it as he did. Neither purple mare had the patience nor energy to acknowledge it.

"They're probably made of fruit, too," Genre called from the other room. Red Alert became even more enraged with the pile of dirt.

"I will kill your whole dirt family! I will bury your whole dirt family!" Red Alert shouted from his earthy battleground, "I'll kill half your dirt family and then bury them in the rest of your dirt family! And even some dirt families you've never met before! It will be very awkward for you in your time of grieving! dirty grieving!"

Twilight rubbed sleep out of her eyes, staring about the room as if she hadn't been there before. Technically, she hadn't, "You didn't sleep?"

Genre cantered into the room, setting a large tray onto the table. It had plates piled high with syrupy waffles and well-buttered toast, respectable piles of omelettes and fried eggs, condensating pitchers of orange juice and whole milk, all around a large, nigh-comical bowl of oatmeal, "Where would we? I mean, we're just finishing the barracks now. Also BREAKFAST IS DONE!" Genre bellowed, causing Twilight to jump, and Violet to adjust her glasses haughtily, "Help yourselves," he added sweetly.

"Thank you, Genre," Twilight responded, craning her neck over the myriad breakfast, searching ungratefully for something, "All-" Twilight was interrupted by Genre placing a small, purple plate of pancakes before her, "Thank you, Genre," Twilight turned to Genre this time to make the gesture seem less for-show, "All of you have certainly been busy. I don't think a group of normal ponies could have gotten this done if they had a few days to plan!"

Normal ponies, Violet thought. "Genre!"

"Yepperooni~?"

"Is there power to the lab yet?" Violet asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Positooni~! By which I mean no," Genre said in sotto voice, "Atom hasn't even transmuted the solar panels yet, much less installed them."

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to survey rather than scan, won't we?" Violet picked up her plate and coffee with a glow of her shaky lavender aura, Genre and Twilight following towards the room opposite the near-finished barracks, the lab. All of the equipment that had previously been Twilight's, with a few makeshift additions of Violet's, "Alex, Mike can take your place when he gets back, go find me two microwaves, a coffee machine, and as much Polaroid film as you and your little yellow friend can carry."

Violet didn't need to turn and look to know that soft green buds had covered Alex's body, turning it from red to gold, "Uh, some money would help..." Violet heard the door close softly. He'd find a way, he usually did.

Violet sat down at a table, setting down her plate, taking a clipboard and pencil in it's place, and pushing aside the fanciful assortment of melted glass vials and offering Twilight a seat, which she took very quickly. Wouldn't want to appear impolite before the peasant ambassadors, would we? Violet thought snidely, "Name?"

"Twilight Sparkle,"

"Race and subspecies?"

"...Equestrian and unicorn, I suppose?"

Violet gave an unamused look.

"Oh. Equis Sapiens Regis,"

That seemed sensible. Violet scribbled the information down onto her clipboard, perhaps this princess wasn't as dull as she seemed, "Gender?"

"Female," she said, seeming a bit indignant.

Was it really necessary? Violet supposed it couldn't hurt, these days, "Genitalia?"

"...Pardon?"

Violet groaned. How she despised ignorance, "Genitals. Sex organs. Ugh, private parts," Violet hated laymen's terms even more.

"I'm sorry, I still don't know what you mean," Twilight was visibly confused.

"Twilight, are you familiar with sex?" Genre interjected.

"Well, who isn't? Humans didn't talk about... genitals.. when I was around them."

Genre split a wide grin, "Oh this is gonna be interesting," he said, taking a sly bite of his held waffle, "So Twi, how do you gals reproduce?"

"Well... When a mare and a stallion love each other very much..."

"Where are we going to find money for two microwaves, a coffee machine, and a bunch of film?" A golden, practically sparkling Spectrum stood in the Ponyville town square, wondering aloud as a whole.

Buy war bonds!

Can't sell pelts, or meat, or ivory, god I hate herbivore societies...

It'd take far too long to grow anything... Maybe Fluttershy could help us?

She is the element of... niceness or some shit, right?

Kindness, yeah. I don't want to be rude... Then again we don't really have a choice, do we?

E A T H E R

Now where does she live?

S T R I P T H E F L E S H F R O M H E R B O N E S
L E T H E R T A S T E T H E E N D L E S S S L E E P A S W E T A S T E H E R

Spectrum pushed the voice to the back of their head, and continued through town, winding through the booths and small stores that someone had been sprinkling over Ponyville, but had slipped and accidentally thrown a third of a cup. It seemed there was nothing you couldn't buy from the Ponyville market. There was a Quill and Sofa shop, a stall specifically for celery, there was even a bag emporium.
Spectrum couldn't fathom what you might need a bag emporium for, there weren't that many ways to make a bag, but it was impressive nonetheless.

Spectrum trotted through through town, occasionally stopping so Goldenrod could inspect the local flora, or so Red Alert could admire the occasional firework from behind a pair of golden eyes.

Wow, maybe I should move here. Property here can't be that expensive, Goldenrod thought, noting the multitude of houses that were currently under repair. A good deal of them were unharmed, save for a few broken windows, but several had refrigerator sized holes burnt in them, and some had damage that could have only been caused by a falling pin oak. A S U I C I D E B O M B E R a 203 millimeter high explosive shell fired from a Russian SU-152 at 200 yards, which was intercepted by a 44. special or larger tracer round 4 feet before hitting its target, resulting in a premature detonation of the HE burster, causing large amounts of damage to the outer walls and thatched roof, but preventing considerable interior structural damage to the target.

Goldenrod found it prudent to remind Red Alert that he wasn't supposed to demonstrate his wealth of tactical knowledge unless asked to, Look at that charring and structural damage! That is the look of a man who needs tacticalized! Red Alert mentally interrupted, It is also the look of a man who is not a man, but a cleverly disguised building! Why, the last time I saw a man this well disguised, I blew his f-

"M-ma'am? Are you alright?"