Mirroring Skies

by Japko

Chapters

Intro: Storm
Chapter One: Neon and Rust
Chapter Two: Static

Intro: Storm

Equine, equine, your rider awaits

Follow his lead through the path of the dusk

The nether white spot marks where he starts

Mirroring Skies

By Japko

Intro: Storm

A dark-green stallion swept a drop of sweat off his forehead and looked up to the sky. It was another day of another summer spent doing the exact same thing. The same work he had been doing all his life as far as his memory reached. His immortal, worn out straw hat didn’t help much against the scorching sun. Dear Celestia, is it really necessary to turn up the heat so much?

He reached for a bottle of water, deciding to take a break. He threw his rake to the ground and slowly stepped towards the shadow of an old, branchy oak, where he sat heavily on the ground and let out a long sigh. The oak was the real landmark of his farm. It was an extremely old tree, which he carefully groomed every spring. Just like his father before him, and his father before him, and probably a few generations back as well. The beloved arbor remembered more members of his family than he was able to name himself. And nopony could blame him for that. The Oat Family was so huge that it was really hard to remember the whole current generation, spread all over Equestria. They would need a solid team of chroniclers before they could even dream of creating a moderately detailed family tree. The past was just the past and… well, those crops weren’t going to farm themselves. Chronicles and history,books in general, were for those who had nothing better to do with their time. Oatwisp had a lot of work ahead of him. He sighed again and scratched his head under the hat.

Grasshoppers were much louder in the sweltering heat of the summer afternoon. Oatwisp had wondered many times if it was the sun that dried those insects’ wings, or whatever it was they played with, that made the sound that so intensive. In most instances he didn’t notice them. It was so deeply connected to the general summer landscape that it was easy to ignore. But once in a while he tried to remind himself of their existence, so he could once again get lost in their thousand-piece symphony.

The stallion picked a dry straw and put it in his mouth. Then, grabbing his old rake and cursing his old bones, he moved again towards the burning heat of the sun and his silver fiefs, which covered most of his farm like spilled mercury.

Several lizards ran away from under his hooves as he walked through the thick grass. The sun ruthlessly roasted his neck, and the air felt heavy and hard to breathe. After half an hour of work, Oatwisp realized he was so tired that he could barely move his limbs. He fell on his haunches and tried to fan himself with his hat. It didn’t help much.

“Dad?” A young colt’s voice felt so unnatural in the scene that Oatwisp almost jumped out of surprise.

“Dear Celestia, Freckle!” the stallion exclaimed, grasping his heart. “You startled me.”

“Couldn’t you hear me coming?” The boy raised his eyebrow. “Mom says you shouldn’t be out, exposed to such strong sunlight, and that you should get back home. It’s not healthy to toil in such heat.”

“I think I’ll get back soon. But I want to at least finish this part here.”

“As you wish, daddy. But I can tell you right now that before you’re done with the first half, you’re gonna be drenched to the skin.”

“What do you mean? It’s so hot I can barely move.” Oatwisp put his hat back on.

“Look to the west,” the colt said, pointing his hoof at the horizon. “A storm is coming.”

* * *

“Hurry up, Dashie! This is taking forever!” A pink pony energetically wagged her hooves.

“I’ll be there in a minute, geez…” A voice from behind a shrubbery sounded a little annoyed. “It’s not like you guys need me anyway, and we have one more lap to perform. No excuses!”

“There is no hurry, Pinkie,” said Twilight Sparkle, petting Winona who panted happily in the heat of the summer afternoon.

It was the weekly get-together with pets that they all attended every Saturday. The day was so sunny and serene that they followed Pinkie’s advice to turn it into a small party. For the occasion, the pink pony had dug up an old blown-up pool, which she had supposedly bought a few years earlier on her trip to Fillydelphia. Rarity took care of daiquiris, and now all the girls were relaxing in the cool water and sipping on their drinks as their pets played together by the trees nearby.

All except Rainbow Dash. She insisted that the weekly meetings would also be a nice motivation for Tank to do some exercise. Her ambition was to make him the fastest tortoise in all of Equestria, and Tank was enthusiastic about the idea as well. As silly as it sounded at first, after a few months he had made enormous progress. He was a lot faster and more agile than before. He had toughened up and become much more self-confident. Rainbow Dash had once again proven that being a good coach was one of her greatest talents.

However, even with that, some aspects of the tortoise nature of her pet just couldn’t be dealt with. He had aspirations for being the fastest tortoise ever, but he was still a tortoise. Tank’s running sessions always needed some time. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t Dash who tended to lose patience because of those long trainings.

“Umm…” Fluttershy started hesitantly. “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash, but don’t you think you should give him a break today? I mean, it’s such a lovely afternoon, and, you know, since he is a reptile, he could really use some soaking in the sunlight… I mean, if that’s not interfering with your plans… a lot.”

“Maybe you’re right,” the colorful pegasus mused. “You heard her buddy, do you want to have a break? All right then!” She patted Tank a few times on his crust. “No more workout for today. Off you go, have some fun with your friends.”

Without notice, a rainbow-colored trail shot up from behind the bushes, made a few loops in the air, and, with a loud “Geronimo!”, landed in the center of the pool, splashing water all around. Winona, who was still sitting near Twilight, barely escaped the wave with a swift jump.

“Rainbow Dash, why would you do that!” Rarity complained. “You ruined our drinks!”

“Mine’s jus’ fine.” Applejack shrugged and drank the whole glass with one gulp.

“Don’t worry, girls. I’ll go and bring some more,” the yellow pegasus offered, wringing her mane.

“I don’t think there will be need for that, Fluttershy,” Twilight muttered, looking to the west. “A storm is coming.”

* * *

“I must admit, sister, you were right.” Princess Celestia put her sunglasses on. “Practically nopony is willing to attend the court on a day like this.”

The dark blue alicorn only smiled in response.

Some could have said that the heat was unbearable. But in the Canterlot Gardens the summer sun was just another factor adding up to the beautiful picture.

The ice cold water from the mountain springs merrily trickled between pebbles in narrow, twisted streams, flowing under tiny bridges, splashing around small islands with bonsai trees and colorful flowers. Specially tamed exotic birds flew between branches of willows and elms, chirping cheerfully. Somewhere away, a hive of bees worked around their nest. The private royal garden dazzled with peace and quiet.

It had been a long time since the two god sisters had last let themselves just sit back and relax.

It was just after the annual Summer Sun Celebration. It had, as always, been a tough holiday to organize. It needed a lot of work, but there was at least one bright side of it. The subjects treated the whole celebration as seriously as the princesses themselves, and it meant that everything that had to be done was usually complete already before the eve. And that led to a simple outcome: there wasn’t much royal work to be done for the next few days. For at least half a week most ponies didn’t have many reasons to keep the court busy. The extreme heat of the day was discouraging them even more, apparently. For the first time in many months, the princesses had the whole afternoon for themselves.

Princess Celestia placed her lounger on the ground and lay down with a long sigh. “I am going to enjoy every single second of this wonderful day…”

Luna once again didn’t say anything, handing her a wide glass that was frosted by a special cooling spell. The sun princess gratefully took the glass and put a tiny umbrella inside.

Suddenly, Celestia sat up and took off her sunglasses. “Did you hear that?” she asked, craning her neck.

“Hear what?” The moon princess didn’t even budge.

“That quiet rumble. It sounded like… oh, shoot.”

“Something’s wrong?” Luna lifted herself a bit, concerned with her sister’s tone.

“Yes, sort of.” Princess Celestia nodded. “I’m afraid we are going to spend today indoors after all. A storm is coming.”

You worthless piece of junk, why won’t you work!

Yes, yes… almost there… Aw crap!

Wha-huh? Oh, yes, yes, we are open. Please take a seat. I’ll be there in a minute, just when I’m done with this little… You tin bastard!

Okay! Okay… Hello, and welcome to Cornerstone Electronics. My name is Cornerstone, but friends call me just Stone. And since you’re already my friend, you can call me whatever you want. What’s your name?

Ah, I see. Nice to meet you then. So, what brings you to my workshop this time?

Ooh, this thing doesn’t look good. Can it even move in such a sorry state? Heh, if you ask me, it’s quite impressive.

Sure I can, there ain’t a piece of machine or electronics in this junkyard of a so-called city I couldn’t handle. Although, to be honest, in this particular case I would rather recommend exchanging it for a better working model I’ve got in my storeroom.

Sentimental value, huh? Okay, as I said, I can take care of it. But you know, just like any other service, I can’t do it for free. Do you have anything you can pay me with?

Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask… you’re not from here, are you. And the fact that you want to pay me with money suggests that you haven’t been for more than a couple of hours either. Am I right? Of course I’m right. So yeah, I don’t accept money, sorry.

Why? Oh, I know that it is technically still in use, but that’s kind of a gamble that I am not willing to take. And believe me, finding anypony that wants to play with money is getting harder day after day. One day the payment you’re offering me could buy you – theoretically – a monthly supply of canned food, while on the next day you might as well throw it at pigeons, hoping it would knock them out or something. With no banks or other institutions to control the value of money it's all up to the Glows, and they're driving that one to the ground. This system holds no water, but it looks like they are slowly starting to understand the nonsense of this whole mess. Hopefully. There are still some ponies who believe that they can exchange bits for goods outside the city – and by the fact that you have some with you I can tell they’re not complete idiots after all – but I’m not one of them. So no, I will not accept this kind of payment.

Well then, show me what you’ve got.

This one looks nice… Oh, what does this thing do?

Really? Then I can definitely do the repairs for this.

Haha, okay. I can see you weren’t born yesterday. You can choose something from the store that evens the deal.

Yeah… no, that would be way too much. I’m not stupid either, you know.

I know it is. But… Eh, you know what, you’re good. Okay, fine. Deal, because I like the way you smile. Yes, believe me or not, there are still some ponies that know the value of a smile.

So let’s get to work. Could you pass me that screwdriver?

Stop! What the hay are you doing? Leave it!

Good heavens, girl, you could use some introduction to this city’s dos and don’ts. You haven’t prepared yourself in the slightest, have you. You know nothing about how this society works, what you can do and what you can’t, do you?

Yes, of course any use of magic is strictly forbidden. How in the world did you not know even that?

I know you’re not from here, but you don’t just simply walk into Zone Two without any basic knowledge about this place. There is no room for carelessness here.

No, I don’t mind if you look at me when I’m working. I am not one of those ponies who have a problem with others looking at their hooves. Most of the things I repair here are too precious for their owners to leave me alone with them. But I gotta tell you that this is going to take hours. If you don’t have anything to do with your time, that’s your problem.

I don’t know. And before you ask: no, you can’t walk around and touch my stuff.

What? A story? Look, darling, you don’t need a story. You need a survival guide. I don’t know how the world is out there where you came from, but I’m pretty sure this city is nothing like those you’ve visited in your life before. By the way, if you use magic, does that mean there are no regulations out there yet?

Interesting. Still, these are the kinds of things you have to know before you can even start dreaming of surviving here.

You’re pretty self-confident, but don’t get cocky. This place doesn’t forgive or offer second chances. One false step and you’re a memory.

Ha, hell if I know. Of course a typical lack of street wisdom will simply get you killed in some shaded alley, but by performing things like flying or magic you could end up much worse.

What? Darn, girl, of course no one can fly either! What are you thinking? Have you seen any pegasi flying here? Dear Celestia…

Do I believe in Celestia? Haha, no I don’t. I just use her name for, you know, exclamations and stuff. Yes I know who she is – the supposed goddess of the sun – but I don’t believe in any deities. If you want to have a religious debate, you’re talking to the wrong pony.

Sure I know what the folks say. But the folks are always saying stuff. Do they really expect me to believe that there is actually some higher being controlling the sky? And, what’s more, that the goddess used to walk on this world like any other pony? Ha, according to the legends I know, there was more than just that sun princess. There were two of them: Celestia, moving the sun around, and Luna, bringing out something called the moon during some strange periods of time called nights, when the sun was hidden beyond the horizon. Why would anyone even want to do that? Why hide the sun? Why even move it anywhere? It’s just fine where it hangs, and it will hang there forever, whether we like it or not. And no silly superstitions can change it.

Yes, I know. I like to listen to those legends, even if I don’t believe them in the slightest.

Story, story, why do you insist on it so much?

Do I? My dear, I assure you that you couldn’t find a better story around no matter how hard you tried. This ain’t a short one, but we have the time, right?

Okay, where do I start… As a matter of fact, the beginning is not that different from how we met a while ago. And it begins in the exact same place. Mind if I smoke?

Chapter One: Neon and Rust

…Six of them stand for a point…

…The rest of them is for the daughter of the Rainbows…

Mirroring Skies

By Japko

Chapter one: Neon and Rust

(Written under the influence of Cold Womb Descent, Deafheaven, Jonn Serrie)

Cornerstone sighed heavily and once again waved his hoof to repel the annoying flies that buzzed above his head and before his eyes. The job he was doing was a delicate one: repairing a matrix, the electronic equivalent of a retina for hi-tech synthetic eyes. The eye he was working on belonged to a well paying customer who was said to be a part of an inter-zone transporting team, although Cornerstone took it for nothing more than mere gossip. Ponies always subconsciously accused the more wealthy ones of being in collusion with The Consortium, when in fact they were wrong in most instances. Of course, it never discouraged them from further accusations and constantly finding more alleged collaborators. The folk hated those who had any material advantage over them.

Cornerstone knew that very well. Every time he managed to receive a fair payment, he preferred to keep it a secret, without sharing the good news with anypony. Who would he tell anyway? He had no friends, only a few acquaintances that he liked to drink with from time to time. Most of them would happily stab him in the back without any hesitation, given a good enough reason. Since he had no one else to share his life with, Cornerstone preferred to spend most of his time in the workshop and exchange almost all his payments for more advanced equipment for more advanced jobs to come. And that’s how his life went – a simple life of a simple stallion, who expected nothing more than a few challenges from time to time to develop his talents. He was good at what he did.

However, for some reason, business wasn’t going as good as he had hoped it would lately. He didn’t pay much attention to the current state of the crisis – because there was no time without crisis, only more or less advanced states of it – and it was always unclear to him when another extreme came. He wasn’t sure if it was the other ponies that didn’t have anything to pay with, or if there was some kind of a problem on his side. The EC3.1 eye repair was a lifesaver because he was already running low on supplies. The client had shown up exactly at the moment when Cornerstone was thinking of selling one of his spare microriveters.

The obtrusive flies refused to give up, and minute by minute, he became more and more frustrated. The cycle was relatively hot, and the tin roof of his house slowly turned the Atelier, as he sometimes called it, into a big sauna. Cornerstone cursed quietly and wiped a drop of sweat off his brow. He released his hooves from the high precision manual gear and lit up a limp cigarette. Maybe those obnoxious insects would give up when treated with some smoke.

Somewhere away, the western industrial district of Zone Two hummed and droned quietly. There wasn’t an hour in the cycle when the huge machines would rest and go silent. The factories never stopped their work. Whenever somepony new arrived for some insane reason to the city, they would always complain about the constant, unbearable noise from which there was no escape. Those who lived in Zone Two long enough always learned to ignore it. It was just another part of the monotonous existence in the junkyard. Sometimes Cornerstone forced himself to notice the sounds in attempts to distinguish some patterns or specific elements, but every time there was only chaotic noise.

He put the end of the cigarette away in an ashtray and returned to his work. The flies were still there, indifferent to his attempts at repelling them. He made a note to himself to look for some ultraviolet insect traps.

He was just about to make one of the final solders when he heard a quiet movement by the open door.

“We’re open!” he shouted over his shoulder, not turning his head. “Be there in a minute!”

Whoever it was by the door, they didn’t move. Cornerstone shrugged mentally, but the unusual silence annoyed him more with each passing second. He looked back eventually and saw a little silhouette of a grey coated unicorn filly in the red sunlight. She stood still, wearing an old and dirty traveling cape. He rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “Go away,” he said. “I don’t have anything for you.”

Homeless kids. There were tons of them. Little, helpless foals, whose parents died, vanished, or were overtly taken away by The Consortium. Or they simply couldn’t afford to keep their offspring anymore, so they would leave them in some faraway part of Zone Two to lose them. As terrible as it might sound, the last type of orphan was one of the most common ones. Progressive destitution and social disproportions were able to drown out the feelings of even the most caring and loving parents sometimes. Bastards, who wouldn’t even pull the trigger when they sentenced their children to death, instead choosing to leave them somewhere to slowly die on the streets. Some tried to beg for food. Some – those more rationally thinking – attempted to do some simple jobs for a few scraps of bread. Some formed juvenile gangs. But mostly, unaware of the cruelty of the world surrounding them, they were beggars. And usually that was the worst possible choice.

The filly by the workshop door wasn’t extremely starved yet, so she was probably a “beginner”. Poor gal, she probably hadn’t even hit the stage of realization that she would meet her end scouring through piles of trash in the last twitches of her atrophied muscles.

“Go away,” Cornerstone repeated, indifferent. At first it was really hard for him to say no in such situations, but he had quickly learned that if he wanted to survive himself, he had to be cruel and ignore it, just like he ignored the western district’s noise. After all, it was also just another element of the city. “You can stand there all day if you want, but it won’t change anything.”

The filly didn’t move. Judging that she wanted to test his patience, the stallion just turned away and went back to his work. This wasn’t the first situation when the beggar just kept waiting for something to happen, but Cornerstone quickly noted a significant difference. Every time a foal was waiting for him to react, they constantly reminded him of their existence. They would sit down and stand up over again, knock on his door, walk in circles, whistle… whatever could draw his attention off work. This girl didn’t make the tiniest sound. Like she wasn’t even there.

But she was there. He could feel her presence. He felt her eyes staring into his back and could almost hear her quiet breath. He tried to drive her away a few more times, but she refused to give up.

Finally, he snapped.

“Fine!” He threw his hooves in the air. “You win. I can’t take it no more. In the cupboard to the left you can find half a loaf of bread. Take it and leave me alone!”

He could almost feel her muscles loosen up. She made a few awkward steps forward and entered the shade of the Atelier. With relief, Cornerstone got back to work. There were no more and no less than 2 precise solders to finish the job. He had to be extremely cautious…

A delicate flash of light startled him so much that he almost burned a hole in the matrix. “What the-“

His heart froze when he turned around. The filly had a wide, sheer smile on her face as she watched the bread levitate towards her, shrouded in a tiny cloud of magical aura.

Cornerstone reacted instinctively. He grabbed the nearest thing – a heavy iron wrench – and threw it in her direction. The same moment he realized what he had done, he immediately regretted the action. What if it hit her?

Luckily, it didn’t. The filly had enough reflexes to dodge the improvised projectile, and she jumped away from it. From the shadows, she looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and fear.

“I’m so so-” Cornerstone started, but the girl had already jumped through the exit and galloped away. “Wait…!”

The dropped loaf of bread slowly swayed on the floor.

* * *

Cornerstone was angry. Sometimes it can be hard to specify the direct purpose or goal of wrath, so general anger becomes a purpose in and of itself. He was angry with the world that let bad things happen to good ponies, with the injustice of fate, with the egoism of the society… but above all, he was angry with himself.

He finished the job with the eye, and the customer not only paid appropriately, but even gave him something extra for doing it before the deadline. Cornerstone decided it was a good idea to have a bit of a celebration, so he visited a higher class grocery store for fresh vegetables – a luxurious pleasure – and a new bag of tobacco. He hoped that cooking might draw him away from dark thoughts, but he gave up before even putting a pot on fire.

He spat angrily in the corner, locked his house and went out to visit Three Horseshoes. It was a lower class dive, one of those which ‘didn’t take kindly t’any newcomers’. But Cornerstone definitely wasn’t a newcomer. He was one of the most regular patrons, and even the owner always called him a friend. Cornerstone hated that. Each time he heard “C’mere friend, have a drink!” he wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face with one quick swing of a hoof. He hated a lot of things, but false friendship was one of the highest positions on his list. But he had never swung the hoof. First of all, even if they weren’t friends, pretending to be had its bright sides. It was highly convenient. He could haggle easily, and sometimes the bartender let him have something on credit. Secondly, Cornerstone was a coward. He avoided any situations in which he could end up hurt. He turned his eyes away whenever somepony was being beaten up on the street, be it by some gangsters or Consortium Militia. Whenever he was intimidated, he yielded almost instantly to avoid any dangerous outcomes of potential standing up for himself. He was content as long as he was safe.

The Three Horseshoes’ clients were especially loud that cycle. They were talking too much, laughing too much, drinking too much. As they noticed his gloomy face, they instantly started to inquire.

“Why the long face?”

“What happened?”

“Have a drink.”

They smelled of alcohol, sweat and aversion to water. Many of them lacked teeth, which was mostly caused by cavities or fights, sometimes scurvy. Their eyes were constantly bloodshot and their voices disgustingly hoarse.

Cornerstone shivered with repulsion and made his way to the counter, where he was greeted by the hated grin of Tap Switch, the bartender and the owner of the den.

Ten minutes later he was walking down the streets of Zone Two again. The drink didn’t help at all. In fact, it made him feel even worse. Why did I do that? Why did I throw that thing at her? The visions of the young filly starved to death between trashcans, her body thrown into an incinerator with a few tons of waste, her afflicted soul haunting his dreams.

He knew that those few bites of bread wouldn't have helped anyway. They would have only extended her agony. She would die anyway, only a day or two later. But the thought didn’t help. And even if the bread was just a bit of false hope, even if it was an easy gesture to put the problem away, it would definitely help him feel better about himself. He would have done his part, and from that point she would be someone else’s problem. He would be the good guy.

But good guys don’t throw wrenches at little children, even if the children don’t understand that using magic in somepony’s house put the owner in mortal danger. If anyone snitched it to the law enforcement… Cornerstone swallowed nervously at the thought.

The streets flickered with a few weak, mostly broken neon signs, barely visible in the strong sunlight. The cloud cover was still thin that cycle, and the light of the celestial fireball painted the whole city bright red. The huge mirror wall reflected the monotonous sky, giving it the impression of being fake itself. And even if the perfectly cylindrical wall didn’t cut Zone Two off the rest of the world, but rather closed inside whatever was in Zone One, it was still the main cause of everypony’s developing claustrophobia. Nopony knew exactly what was in there, behind the wall. Except for Glows, but… well, they were Glows. And nopony talked to Glows.

Stupid world, stupid city, stupid… me. Oh, if I only had a chance to do something…

A loud squeal brought him out of his reverie. It was so unexpected in a totally empty street that he almost jumped. It came from one of the alleys. Against his instincts, he slowly peeked in. When he saw the scene, he sighed and looked up to the sky. “Really?” he whispered to whatever gods hid beyond the clouds and laughed at the irony.

Deep in the alley with her back against the wall stood a grey coated unicorn filly, wearing a worn out and dirty traveling cape. Her horn was shining brightly, as she held a thick iron bar in front of her, trying to repel two cyborg ponies.

Consortium.

She used magic in front of the militia, thought Cornerstone. She’s already dead. Unless…

His eyes rested upon a rod similar to the one which the girl was trying to defend herself with. Once again, his thoughts drifted away. And along with them, all his logic and discretion. Attacking the consortium cyborgs was one of the stupidest things a pony could do. Their armor was so thick and strong that they would barely notice those kinds of physical blows. If the opponent didn’t have a weapon powerful enough, they were virtually indestructible. But everything has a weak point, and so did they. And if there were any specialists on those weak points, they would be cyborg mechanics like Cornerstone. All he knew was that it was best to aim for their right temples, where they had the most vulnerable sockets, covered only with a flimsy tin.

The first one was an easy target, because Cornerstone had the element of surprise. He sneaked behind him and smacked his head as hard as he could. The blow was a release of all the negative emotions he had built up before. All of his frustration and self-loathing focused on the side of his target’s head.

The realization of the irrationality of his action returned right at the moment when the cyborg’s body heavily hit the ground. The second agent turned quickly towards him, and one of his sides opened, exposing a short barrel. Cornerstone panicked and tried to take a step back. He dropped the rod and was just about to jump back and run away – which would be certain death for him – when all his plans were washed away by a sudden flash of white light. For a split second he couldn’t see anything. As his sight returned, a revelation came along. Synthetic eyes had one specific feature: they reacted more intensely to any lighting changes, which helped the users to react faster in dangerous situations. That also meant they were more vulnerable to blinding flashes of light, and so the cyborg had to be blinded for at least half a second longer.

It was just the amount of time Cornerstone needed. He made an instinctive dodge, and not a moment too soon. The bullet swished between the hairs on his tail. Finding himself right beside the attacker, he used the momentum of the jump to dig his front hooves into the ground. Putting in as much strength as he possibly could, he bucked the cyborg straight in his right temple with his hindhooves.

He didn’t even look back.

“Run!” he shouted to the filly and immediately turned tail himself. He didn’t know where he was headed; he just wanted to escape the scene as soon as possible. He hedged between cross streets to lose any potential pursuit. After a few minutes of sprinting he regained just enough consciousness to realize where he was. He turned to a small alley to catch his breath.

When he opened his eyes again, he almost shouted out of surprise. In front of him, panting so hard that she almost coughed her lungs out, stood the filly, wavering on her hooves. Cornerstone was shocked. Was he running that slow, or was she really fast enough to keep up with him? Tears of exhaustion dropped from her eyes, and she looked to be on the verge of throwing up – if her stomach hadn’t been empty for at least days.

The stallion closed his eyes again. He took off his cap and tried to fan himself with it. The reality of the past few minutes returned slowly, as Cornerstone realized what he had just done. If they find me, I’m screwed, he thought. If any of them survived, they will be able to get to me eventually. What have I done?

He looked at the little pony before him. Her breath was stabilizing slowly, but she still seemed unable to move. Her rust-colored mane was wholly soaked with sweat.

“Leave me alone,” Cornerstone moaned. “I saved your life, what else do you want from me… Stop following me…”

She didn’t answer, only turned her head and looked at him. It was the first time he really noticed her eyes. Deep, big eyes with neon-green irises. The filly was silent, but her eyes spoke for her. They spoke of fear, of helplessness, of despair, of terror. They begged. They pleaded so hard that Cornerstone’s voice got stuck in his throat.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “Come on.”

Cautiously, they left the dark alley and blended into the crowd of ponies slowly strolling down one of the main streets.

* * *

It was actually quite impressive how much a tiny filly like her could consume. The food Cornerstone had bought was supposed to be a little feast for him, a self-reward for a job well done. But it seemed that everything would be eventually eaten by his young guest.

Cornerstone stood in the corner by the kitchen, smirking to himself and smoking a cigarette. He was wondering where this little girl was from. She used magic, so she couldn’t have been born in the city. Even the least caring parents always made sure that their offspring never tried any spells. If somepony casted even the simplest one, they put in danger not only themselves, but everyone else living under the same roof. This filly was not only able to make light come out of her horn, but she was able to lift objects, which she had already proven twice. He suspected that she had at least a few more in her repertoire. No, she couldn’t be from the city; maybe she had come from one of the farms which were destined to produce higher quality food for Zone One. But how in the world had she ended up in a place like this? Had she traveled through the wastelands just to reach one of the worst places in all of Equestria?

He took a closer look at her. She had a bright grey coat, matte brown hair and intensely green eyes. Concrete, rust and neon. Lost and helpless. Just like this city.

When he suggested to her to take a shower, she looked at him sheepishly. Hadn’t she had any showers out there, wherever she was from? He decided to take her to the bathroom and show her how it worked. She gasped quietly, but still didn’t say a word. She threw the lousy cape away and happily let cold streams of water wash all the tough days off her body.

Cornerstone grabbed the cape to throw it away immediately, but checked it first to see if it didn’t contain anything of value – it didn’t. The filly spent quite a long while in the shower, but he didn’t want to hurry her with it. After such a long time with no water to even wash her face, she deserved it. It was a late hour of the cycle, and his normal time for sleeping was about to come soon. The girl was definitely exhausted too. Sure he didn’t want her to stay for long, but his conscience wouldn’t let him throw her out without giving her at least a few hours of rest under a solid roof. There was a problem, though. Not only was there only one useful room (the other was filled with lots of junk), but he only had one bed. There wasn’t any time to organize anything, so he just dug out two old blankets and made an improvised bed in the corner of the room. Surprised by his own generosity, he decided to offer his own bed to the strange guest from the wastelands for one night. The floor was probably uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to all the things the girl must have gone through during the last few days in the city.

When the filly stepped outside the bathroom, she was soaked, and she chattered her teeth after spending too much time in the cold shower. Cornerstone threw her a towel, which she didn’t manage to catch, and it landed on her head. When she saw the beds, her eyes instantly flickered with gratefulness. He could swear that she almost smiled. Her face hadn’t make the smallest attempt to smile since he first saw her, but once again, it was the eyes that spoke for her. She might not talk, and she made basically no facial expressions, but a quick look into her eyes let him read her like a book.

She hesitated for a while and made a few steps towards the pallet in the corner.

“No.” Cornerstone’s voice came out more firm and harsh than he would have liked it to be. The girl stopped in mid-step, terrified. She looked at him, confused and scared. The stallion smiled. “I will sleep there this time. You can use my bed. I think…” he started, uneasy. It was so hard to talk to a little filly! Especially to one who didn’t answer at all. “I think that, you know, you’re tired, and maybe you’d need a better place to sleep.”

The little pony put down her hoof. She made an awkward move like she wanted to make a step towards him, but changed her mind. She nodded softly and timidly approached the bed. The filly touched the quilt and turned her head towards Cornerstone. Seeing his nod, she climbed on the bed and dug herself between the pillows. After a few seconds she was already asleep. She didn’t even manage to pull the coverlet over herself. The stallion shook his head in disbelief and, careful not to wake her up, covered her with the quilt.

He looked critically at his improvised bed in the corner and shrugged. Groaning, he slipped under one of the blankets and sought a relatively comfortable spot. It was virtually impossible to find, so he wriggled on the floor for a few minutes. Eventually, he gave up and walked downstairs for a glass of water. As he came back to the bedroom, he was greeted by quiet, broken sounds.

The girl cried in her sleep.

* * *

When Cornerstone opened his eyes, the filly was already wide awake. But instead of walking around his house, or at least the room, she sat on the bed, looking out of the window and watching the swirling clouds on the red sky. As usual, she was perfectly still; she didn’t even move an ear, but the stallion was almost sure that she had already noticed that he was awake.

Looking at her, he bit his lip. You idiot. What were you thinking? You know how kids work… You gave her hospitality, and now you’re gonna have a problem. How in the world are you gonna make her leave? She can’t be here forever…

But even if he didn’t want her to stay for long, he couldn’t force her to leave just yet. Because of his stupid, selfless actions, she wasn’t just another Zone Two mayfly, a little bug nopony noticed and which died almost instantly, leaving no trails of its existence. She was his responsibility now, at least for a while. At least until she could make even the tiniest attempts to stand on her own hooves without being instantly run over by the steamroller of reality. What have I gotten myself into?

He could always simply throw her out of the door and let the city take the problem away. But would it be any different from what those despised parents who left their foals on the streets did? What’s more, he did have enough welfare for them both, at least for a few days. But he didn’t know when another client was going to show up.

“Let’s have some breakfast,” he said eventually. “Come on.”

The filly wouldn’t leave his side no matter what. Even when he was cooking, she refused to sit down, instead following him hoof to hoof. It quickly became irritating, but Cornerstone didn’t complain. She seemed almost fascinated with everything he did. Or maybe she was just so scared that he would leave her somehow.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” he asked, when they both sat by the table. “Where are you from? How did you end up in here?”

No answer. In response she just stopped eating and stared blankly into his eyes.

“Can you even talk? Say something. Anything.”

Silence. Neon-green eyes, deep and still.

Cornerstone shook his head and got back to his breakfast.

No clients came that cycle, but he didn’t expect anyone to come. After a good commission there was always a while without any more jobs. Nature strived for balance.

Not having much to do, he decided to devote some time to repairing his own gear. Without having his hooves occupied, he got bored. And when he was bored, he tended to think too much. And that never led to anything good.

The filly understood the importance of not bothering her host, so she quit her habit of following him everywhere. Instead, she decided to take a look around his workshop. He didn’t have to explain to her that touching anything was out of the question – she seemed to be smart enough to get it herself. She was very precise with her inspections, though. She could probably spend hours looking at a certain device from different angles, and she barely held herself back from opening them up anyway.

On the next cycle there was still no client in sight. Cornerstone got bored with oiling and polishing his machines, so he decided to take a break and go to a bar.

“It’ll be just an hour, maybe two,” he explained to his little guest. He still didn't have the guts to drive her away, and each day he found it harder to think of parting ways. “I know you’re worried, but I’ll be back. And Three Horseshoes really ain’t a place for little ones like you.” He made a step towards the door, but the filly immediately followed him. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “There’s no reasoning with you, kid, is there.”

She didn’t answer that time either.

Three Horseshoes was as loud and dirty as ever. As always, there were the same filthy patrons, and they held the same stench. Most of them were drunk already, and some of them were still drunk from before. Cornerstone decided to ignore them and avoid any contact.

“Oi, Stone!” shouted one of the rags-and-bones. “What is this?” He pointed his hoof to the little filly.

“Have ya found yarself a mascot or something?” shrieked another one.

The whole group burst into laughter. The girl stuck closer to her protector’s side.

“Maybe they’re, you know…” chortled an old, almost toothless pegasus. “Hey, lil’ dovey!” he swung his hoof, which landed on the filly’s tail.

Cornerstone himself didn’t know what had happened. One second, he was walking between the tables, and suddenly he found himself sitting on the pegasus’ chest, pushing his head against the floor.

“Touch her again, you old lousy son of a bitch, and I swear I will kill you,” he whispered to his ear. “And insinuate anything similar again, and I’ll rip your tongue off and nail it over the entrance with your own hoof. You got that?”

Not waiting for an answer, he just kicked the laying lecher again and returned to the filly, gently patting her head. What the hell did I just do? What is this little gal doing to me? I’ve avoided fights all my life and now I pushed myself into a bar brawl… over what? Some insult? What is happening to me?

As usual, for a few seconds after a fight, the whole pub stayed perfectly silent. But as they passed, everypony slowly returned to their own business, and buzzing conversations once again filled the space.

“Hey, Tap Switch. Hey, Link.” Cornerstone approached the dirty and warped counter and helped the filly climb the tall chair. “A beer for me, some water for her.”

The orange mare by the name of Chain Link looked curiously at both of them. “Sup, Stone. I see you’re not alone this cycle. Who’s the unusual friend of yours?”

Cornerstone always remembered to be extremely cautious around Link. She looked as inconspicuous as could be, but her talents were extraordinary, just like her cutie mark – an expressionless mask. She wasn’t dangerous in a normal way. Since she wasn’t built for any physical job, was too unattractive to try and sell her body and too bitter and sarcastic for any other services that required normal, healthy interactions with other ponies, she had to find another way to make a living. She bought and sold information. Chain Link was the eyes and ears of the whole South District. She probably had enough properties to buy a whole Z1-class farm for herself, but she avoided high life and any other wealthy ponies. She often complained about how hard it was to endure more than a couple of minutes with a bunch of ponies who kept their noses between their own flanks. Also, she always claimed that there was no better source of information than simple drunk ponies in poor quality pubs.

“She’s my guest,” he answered shortly.

“You’re running some kind of an orphanage now?” she mocked, elbowing him in the ribs. “Because I can already tell she’s no family to you. What’s your name, dear?” She turned to the little unicorn.

“Good luck getting any info from her. She hasn’t spoken a word since I first saw her.”

“I’ve always claimed there’s something strange about you, Stone.” Link leaned back in her chair and spun a little. “Anyway, have you heard the news?”

“I barely leave my workshop lately, so I might have missed something,” the stallion said, taking a sip from a tin mug.

“There’s been a fight.”

“Great. I have some breaking news as well. I saw a fly yesterday.”

“It wasn’t just a street brawl.” The mare ignored his sarcasm. “Two Consortium soldiers were killed in an alley nearby.”

Cornerstone felt all the blood in his veins turn into ice. “R… really? That’s not an everycycle thing, right?”

Link looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you feeling okay? Two fully armed and armored walking fortresses to just casually get killed in some alley? Not really, no.”

“So… do they have a suspect that could have done that?” Cornerstone tried to sound normal, but a cold sweat started to pearl on his forehead.

“A suspect?” The mare laughed. “Oh Stone, think for a second. Do you really think one person could have done that? It had to be at least a few ponies, with an organized ambush. By the way, I wish I knew who did it so I could congratulate them personally.”

Another shiver went down Cornerstone’s spine. It wasn’t safe to say anything against The Consortium, even as a joke. He decided to finish his beer as fast as possible and leave Three Horseshoes.

So they were dead after all. He did it. If nopony saw them running away from the alley, there were no witnesses. Could he consider them safe now? Weren’t they going to be wanted for magic use and the assault on the militia?

More cycles had passed, and Cornerstone started to feel really safe, as nopony invaded his home. Nopony kicked them out of their beds and put gun barrels against their heads. The filly became a semi-natural component of his home now, and even if she didn’t speak, he noticed that he felt much less alone with her around. He let her play with some machines in the back of the Atelier, and she seemed content with that. But as cycles went by, and the girl adapted emotionally, another thing started to slowly come on top. He noticed that she became more distant, and she radiated with an almost tangible kind of sadness. When he had found her, she was made of fear and disorientation. Now she was a lot calmer and more trusting, but also deep down, she grieved over something. She tried to hide it whenever Cornerstone was around, but he could feel it anyway. She often cried in her sleep, but never while being awake.

The other downside was that Cornerstone was slowly running out of barter stuff, and the fridge was almost empty. No client had shown up within over a week, and he had started to worry.

One cycle the filly was glummer than ever. She didn’t even try to hide it from him. She barely touched her dinner, and just stared blankly on the kitchen wall. Cornerstone finished his food and went towards the sink to throw his plate inside.

“Pebble.” His ears perked. Was it…?

He turned his head towards her. She was staring at him with her green eyes. Her rust-colored mane shone in the red sunlight. “Pebble,” she repeated quietly.

“Dear Celestia, you can talk!” The tin plate clanged against the floor, as the stallion trotted towards the filly. “What do you mean? What about pebbles?”

“My… name.” She had difficulty saying the words out loud. “You asked me. It’s Pebble.”

The stallion grinned from ear to ear. “Nice to meet you, Pebble. My name is Cornerstone, but my friends call me Stone.” He took off his cap and made a move like he wanted to give her a hug, but changed his mind. Abashed, he looked away.

“Who are you, Pebble?” he asked, still sitting on the floor before her. “Where are you from? Why aren’t you with your parents?”

The filly opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words. “I…” She shook her head, her eyes filling up with tears. “I’m sorry.” She jumped off her chair and galloped upstairs. Cornerstone heard the bedroom door slamming behind her and the whine of the bed’s springs.

The stallion sighed, brought together the remains of Pebble’s unfinished dinner and put them in the fridge. Except for them, there was nothing more to eat. He scratched his head and lit up a cigarette.

When he entered the bedroom, her eyes had already dried up. She lay down, staring at the clouds and the mirror wall which reflected the city. Cornerstone sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her mane. She budged, but didn’t move away.

They stayed in the same position for a long time. It could have been minutes, but it could have been hours, maybe even whole cycles as well.

“I don’t remember,” she said, turning on the bed and looking at him. “I can’t remember how I got here… It’s like a dark hole in my memory…” Her voice waned, and another convulsing sob shook her body.

Pushed by an impulse, Cornerstone reached out his hooves. The filly looked at them and threw her own hooves over him. She shivered as all her emotions sunk into his shoulder with torrents of tears.

“It’s all right,” he said, whispering into her ear. “Everything will be all right…”

Pebble calmed down eventually and loosened up in the embrace. He started to feel uneasy again, remembering what he came upstairs for. He could tell himself that it wasn’t the right moment, but he knew there would be no good moment for that.

“Look, Pebble…” he started, when she finally let him go. “There is something I need to tell you. Don’t panic before I finish. It’s not an emergency or anything, okay?

“I… I’m afraid I can’t really afford keeping you in the current state of the business. I haven’t seen a customer in a long while, and we’ve just ran out of food. I have things to sell, but they’re machines I need for my work. If I start to sell them, I won’t have anything to make a living with anymore.

“That’s why I’m afraid we are gonna have to look for some way for you to earn your own food and stuff. You can stay here if you want. I’m gonna help you with everything. Maybe I’ll invest something by buying some info from Link. I wish I could give more to you, but it would potentially mean a bad future for us both. Do you understand why it’s important?”

Pebble nodded. She didn’t say anything, but he knew she understood. Cornerstone smiled faintly. “Let’s hit the hay then,” he said, putting a hoof on her head. “We have work to do tomorrow.”

* * *

Cornerstone woke up with his neck numb. He couldn’t get used to sleeping on the floor. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing the sore muscle. The red sunlight was falling through the window on an empty bed.

“Pebble?” He frowned. She had never left the bedroom before him. She always waited for him to wake up first.

“Pebble?” he shouted through the bedroom door. No answer. He looked into the bathroom – it was empty. Feeling a germ of panic forming inside his chest, he ran downstairs and slammed the kitchen door open. Nopony was there either.

“Pebble!” The workshop was empty and silent.

She was nowhere to be found. The echoes of her existence still remained. A not entirely dry towel, the unfinished dinner in the fridge, the dismantled driller on the workbench… the spot on his shoulder, still remembering her tears…

“What have I done…” he whispered.

Pebble was gone. He made her feel like a burden, and she left.

Cornerstone slumped down the wall, hiding face in his hooves. The silence of the Atelier was overwhelming. It stung his ears and brain. He was alone. For the first time in his life he had somepony to live for, and he had made her leave.

He stayed in the corner, smoking one cigarette after another, unable to stand up. After a long time, a high-pitched whine of rusty hinges brought him back to reality.

“Umm… excuse me? Stone?”

He jumped on four hooves immediately. Letting a wide stain of red light inside, Pebble stood in the entrance, looking at him with a worried frown on her face.

“Pebble…” he croaked. “Pebble, you’re back!” He galloped towards her and squeezed so hard that she had to hit his back a few times with her hooves for him to let her go and let her catch a breath.

“Y… yes.” She tried to clap down her messy mane. “You thought… I was gone?”

“I… never mind.” Cornerstone put his cap back on, embarrassed.

“I thought about what you said yesterday, and I think I figured something out.” The filly smiled timidly. It was so unexpected and unnatural that the stallion involuntarily took a step back. He had never seen her smile before. And this feature gave her face a whole new dimension.

“Excuse me, is this Cornertone Electronics?” Two ponies hesitantly peeked through the open door. One of them had an artificial leg, and the other was a full-body cyborg. “We were told we can get some reasonably priced service here.”

“Umm… I think I’ve found you some custome-” Pebble couldn’t finish the sentence, because once again all the air from her lungs was pushed out by a crushing hug.

“Does it mean I can stay?” she asked, voice beaming with hope.

“Yes, sweetie. Yes, you can stay.” Cornerstone tried to sound casual, but at the very moment he saw her by the door a minute before, he already knew that he would never let her go.

Chapter Two: Static

Mirroring Skies

By Japko

Chapter two: Static

(written under the influence of Astral Projection, Henryk Górecki, LAKE R▲DIO)

Cider Drop, a Class-A earth pony, a proud and qualified citizen of Ponyville, and a member of the Apple Family, stared blankly at the monitor of her computer. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was she dreaming? Was her best friend somehow pulling some kind of a joke on her? If it was real, it could mean she was in trouble. But also it would mean that she was right all along. That she wasn’t crazy. Unfortunately, the realization of being right didn’t make her happy. As a matter of fact, it was the final proof that her world was falling into pieces.

She felt a stream of cold sweat running down her neck as she repeated a calming mantra in her head to keep herself from panicking.

She was sure that the file she had saved the previous day was nothing more than pure code of the little helping program, which was supposed to keep her up to date. She could have sworn that she hadn’t put any code lines like this one.

And yet, the cursor merrily blinked at the end of a short note:

HELLO EQUESTRIA

“What have I done?” Cider whispered to a cup of hot, steaming coffee, sitting by the keyboard. “What the hay is happening?”

How did I even end up here?

* * *

Cider Drop was a member of the highest citizen class of the Ponyville’s hierarchy, and that meant she had basically everything that she could have asked for. Also, she was a member of the famous Apple Family, who always had the right to have more foals than any other citizens. That gave her a wonderful childhood among lots of brothers and sisters. The family had been overseeing the Ponyville’s apple orchards since forever, which meant she and her siblings had always had the biggest playground in the whole town. Of course it didn’t mean that the area was restricted for their use alone. Oh no, in Ponyville virtually everything belonged to everypony. So the groups of countless foals who visited Sweet Apple Acres to play were as much at home as Cider and the rest of the Apples, but still, none of the visitors could say that their families kept the apples flowing for the whole town.

Even since her youngest years, Cider Drop was aware that she was more intellectually developed than the rest of her siblings and most of her peers. She had learned to read soon after she had learned to speak. Her parents paid close attention to her interests and did what they could to help her expand the knowledge she felt like expanding herself. They knew that they were raising a potential Class-A citizen, and they really wanted to do a good job. She quickly found out that she was excellent at fast reading, math and logic, and, above all, computers.

As much as she loved to spend time with her brothers and sisters, she also quickly lost track of time whenever she was seated in front of a keyboard. She would put on a hoof adapter and immediately get lost in the world of bytes and code lines. Normal colts and fillies her age, when encountering a computer, preferred to use it for games and other entertainment purposes. Cider didn’t find playing games that interesting; she preferred to make them. For her, digital information was like clay – she could knead it, form into any desired shapes and make tools out of it. Tools and pieces of art, sometimes both.

Still, computers weren’t her only field of interest. She read tons of books from the Ponyville library. She was studying them so fast that she could safely claim that she knew more about the world than almost anypony from her family. Anypony, that is, except Applejack.

Applejack was the family’s matriarch, and Cider claimed that there was no pony wiser than her. A lot of what Cider she knew from books, Applejack knew first-hoof. She had been to so many places and had had so many adventures that it was hard to believe that all that was actually true. But Cider never, ever doubted Applejack.

“How old are you exactly?” she asked one day when, having found some obscure information about zebras, she went to see the matriarch to verify some details.

“Oh, sugarcube, ah’m old,” Applejack said in response.

“Yes, we all know you are,” the filly pressured, “but h o w old?”

“Like really, really old, mah dear…”

Applejack was definitely not a regular pony. Not only was she apparently older than anypony in town (was Cider the only one who found that strange?), not only did she speak with an extraordinary, unfamiliar accent, but she also had one very odd feature. On her flank she had an image of three red apples.

“What does that thing on your flank mean?”

“It’s a cutie mark, sugarcube. Y’all gonna get one someday too.”

“Get? But how? Is it painted or something?”

“Nah, ya’ll just get one, ya’ll see, everypony gets a cutie mark eventually…”

Sometimes it was really hard to understand Applejack and her obscure explanations, but Cider learned that it was sometimes better to let it go than run around in circles for hours. Still, she wanted to learn as much as possible from the old mare before it was her time to take part in the Test.

Until the Test, the filly spent much more time in her room with her books and computers than with her peers and family. Her parents didn’t oppose. “It’s a normal thing for a Class-A-to-be,” they would say. The Test was the most important two hours of a young pony’s life. The outcome of it attributed the participant to the suitable citizenship class. The higher ranked the class, the bigger the privileges, but also the harder and more demanding jobs. There was no way to train for the Test and no practice tests before it. It didn’t check the participant’s knowledge. It was all about intellect and ability to make appropriate decisions in different situations.

Cider aced the tests without any problems, even pointing out the examiner’s intentional mistake, which gave her an above-max score and provided her with the top society class. Her parents were so proud.

“Why do some ponies have those horns on their heads or wings on their sides? Is there some reason behind it? Is that some kind of atavism? What purpose do they serve?” she asked on her long sessions with Applejack from time to time.

In response, the matriarch always looked at her like it was the stupidest question she could think of. “Fer flyin’ and magic, of course! How doesn’t a smart gal like ya know that?”

“Applejack…” Cider Drop would always look calmly into the old pony’s eyes. “Ponies don’t fly. Those wings can’t hold such weight. And what in the world is magic?”

“Aw, stop wastin’ mah time, sugarcube…”

When Cider was younger, she always thought Applejack just had some mental problems caused by her old age, but she quickly realized there was a lot of very basic questions nopony seemed to have answers to, not only Applejack. For instance: why does the Sun rise and fall? Every pony she asked the question to, just shrugged and said, “Duh, it just does. Why are you obsessing over unimportant stuff?”

In the library, Cider found some books filled with strange tales about tall, godlike ponies who had both wings and horns, who were said to, by turns, bring out the Sun to start a day and the moon, to start the night. Never reasonable explanations, only fairy tales for little foals everywhere.

Why?

That was the question, which apparently nopony except her dared to ask. Even those few Class-A ponies she worked and talked with. Everypony seemed perfectly uninterested with the causality of the most basic and important things. More advanced issues? Of course, they were always ready to debate about, for example, the molecular changes in the newest attempts of making the ideal material to coat their chairs and beds. “If you add the appropriate amount of propyl chloride to the system and use the pressure of one atmosphere more during the polymerization process-“

“Sure,” Cider would cut in, “but tell me, where do we even perform those polymerization processes?”

“What do you mean where? In the factory about we talked about earlier. Don’t you remember?”

“And where is this factory?” She threw her hooves in the air.

“Fillydelphia, of course. Were you even paying attention?”

“More than you. Have you ever been to Fillydelphia?”

“No, not really.”

“Do you think anypony you know has ever been to Fillydelphia?”

“Are you feeling all right, Cider? You look pale, maybe you should skip the meeting today and have some rest.”

“I asked you a question!”

“And I’m pointing out the silliness of the question. Many ponies have been to Fillydelphia, even if not anyone from my closest surroundings. Many Traders come from there and there are a few companies that have their offices in Ponyville, but the majority of them are scattered around Equestria. How do you think all this would be possible if nopony was traveling between the cities?”

“I don’t know!” Cider hit the round table with her hoof and stormed out of the meeting hall.

The next day, nopony even remembered the argument. They didn’t care about it enough to remember it.

The frustration inside Cider grew stronger day after day, week after week, month after month. One day she called in sick and sneaked out of Sweet Apple Acres for something other ponies didn’t understand the point of – a walk. She grabbed a few apples to her saddlebags, and carefully, so nopony could see her, crossed the orchards to get to the main northern road. It ran close to the Everfree Forest, but never entered between its trees. The road had its start in the very center of Ponyville, where, in the middle of the big town square, rose a beautiful spiraling and metallic spire. It was used as the city hall and the nexus of everything important to the town. Cider worked in the spire, like almost every Class-A citizen. It was up to them to govern Ponyville. Cider often asked her co-workers what was up there in the upper levels, but no one knew the answer.

She felt a weak shiver down her spine when she first set her hoof on the road, leaving Ponyville behind her back. It was a strange feeling. She had never done anything like it before and it felt… unnatural. For some reason, a tiny voice inside her head was telling her that she was violating some kind of taboo. And static. She noticed a weak noise of static somewhere around the audibility threshold. She ignored it and took another step forward. Another step towards the nearest village called Bridleburg. It was famous for its salt mine and a beautiful elm in the middle. Cider’s ambition was to see the elm so many ponies talked about the very same day.

After a few more steps, the tiny voice and the strange noise went silent, and she finally let herself enjoy the scenery. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone strong, the birds and grasshoppers played a soothing symphony. The dirt road took a turn behind a hill which was a natural boundary of Sweet Apple Acres on the northern side. The land here wasn’t developed at all. Long and wide tracts of tall grass stretched towards the horizon.

Cider Drop found herself in a mood so good that she started to whistle as she walked. Leaving the town for a few hours just to spend some time with the nature felt really good. She could finally feel the tension she had built up for such a long time leave her mind and body.

The road she was walking on took many twists and turns. It went through some groves, encircled a few ponds, squeezed between small hills. But it had no ramifications anywhere. Cider found that rather strange; she had thought that there should be some stand-alone cottages on the way, but apparently there were none in sight.

Finally Cider stepped into a ravine, through which flowed a small stream. She happily sat by its side and ate one of her apples. She even used the stream to splash her face a bit with water. She closed her eyes, delighting in the refreshing, cold drops quickly drying on the heat.

When she opened them back, she felt her heart stop.

Down the road, beyond the ravine, rose a tall, twisted spire.

She threw the saddlebags on her back and galloped forward. The sudden panic squeezed her throat and the adrenaline hummed in her ears. Once she climbed the top, she fell on her haunches and shook her head in disbelief. Before her eyes, down the road, she could see the southern suburbs of Ponyville.

I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy… she repeated in her mind, circling around her room that evening with her computer turned on. She checked the maps in the library database, which she could browse via the information web that connected all the computers. As a Class-A, she had access to most databases in Ponyville. The only thing she couldn’t see were the Traders’ servers, probably because of some important data concerning their jobs.

The map showed that Bridleburg was straight north from Ponyville.

She couldn’t sleep at night. She decided she wouldn’t talk to anypony about this. They would think she was crazy anyway. But she wasn’t crazy. Something went wrong with the world while she wasn’t looking. After only a few hours of sleep, she woke up with a plan.

It was simple: once she got to the northern road again, she had to leave the route and to march north through the grass. First, she tried to stick to the edge of the Everfree Forest, but its line eventually bended towards the east, so she had to rely on her sense of direction. The farther she walked, the taller the grass became. Eventually it got even taller than her, but it didn’t worry her. She could always return by following her own tracks.

Having a limited range of sight, she almost walked into a wire fence. She wasn’t able to see it before, but now it was running in the direction perfectly perpendicular to her path. Cider frowned and turned east, parallel to the fence.

She walked a long way, checking her direction by the sun. At first she was walking east, but after some time she felt that her path turned south. The grass became progressively shorter again, and once she was able to stick her head out above its level, she saw exactly what she was afraid she would see.

The edge of the Everfree Forest.

During the night she went out once again, lying to her family that she had something to discuss personally with somepony from work. She sneaked into a shed and found a pair of wire-cutting pliers. Armed with the tool, she walked north again to find the fence. To her surprise she found out that the path she had trod earlier that day had already vanished. Dauntless, she stepped into the grass once again. The fence, to her slight relief (I’m not crazy!), was in its place. She brought the pliersout of her saddlebag and started to cut out a hole big enough for a pony to squeeze through. The other side wasn’t any different from the one she came from. The grass was exactly the same. However, Cider knew she was in a place where she wasn’t supposed to be.

She walked slowly and carefully, step after step.

“What are you doing?”

Cider covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming out loud. The adrenaline hit her momentarily, and she turned around, almost swinging the pliers but recognizing the voice in time. It was Candy Apple, her youngest sister.

“Candy, what the hay are you doing here?!” Cider hissed angrily, her heart still pounding like crazy.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the filly answered with a twinkle in her eye.

She was a smart kid. Not as smart as Cider was at her age, but she knew that the filly wouldn’t have any problems in becoming a strong Class-B citizen. Cider noted a long time ago that her little sister wasn’t exactly a regular pony. Candy Apple was an outsider and she was content with it. Not that she avoided contact with other ponies. She just preferred to stay a little bit outside, to watch and listen. She was an observer. Candy almost never took part in conversations, but she remembered every little detail of each. She also preferred to spend time with ponies older than herself. She seemed apathetic, and given that she rarely did anything if not asked, her actions were often shocking and unpredictable. One time she literally rode a fully mechanized apple harvester in order to see how exactly it worked. Another time, she tossed ten times too much yeast into the cider batch, spoiling at least ten barrels of it. No matter how serious trouble she put herself in, she was never embarrassed. She was proud of every action she could consider “research”. Candy Apple treated being caught red-hoofed a normal, everyday thing. Cider hoped that her little sister would turn out different than the rest of the mindless society.

This time it was no different. She just stood there with her brow raised and an ironic smile on her face.

“What I’m doing here,” Cider answered proudly, raising her head, “is none of your business. It’s a work-related thing. Only for Class-A citizens.”

“Yeah, sure. Class-A citizen’s work involves sneaking out in the middle of the night and cutting holes in fences,” Candy Apple mocked. “Seriously, what are you planning? I’m your sister. You can trust me.”

The yellow mare sighed. “Okay. But I’m not sure what to think of all this myself, so I don’t want you to jump into any conclusions either.”

The filly nodded energetically.

“Have you ever been outside of Ponyville?” the older pony asked rhetorically. She knew the answer was no. “Because yesterday I walked down the northern road to Bridleburg and after a while I found myself on the southern road, just outside of town. I did a circle while I was sure I was walking north all the time. Today I wanted to go straight north, but I found that every possible way out is blocked by this fence. And I wanted to see what’s outside. That’s why I cut the hole in it and I’m willing to go north and see what’s out there. You should go back home.”

Candy Apple’s eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t add up. We do get guests from outside of Ponyville every day. If the wire fence surrounds us everywhere, how do they get in and out? And why has nopony noticed it yet?”

Cider Drop bit her lip, listening to her sisters. Those were the exact same questions she had been asking herself over and over again. “I don’t know. But I will find out. I just need to- aah!”

As she spoke, she took a step forward. Unaware of any obstacles in her way, she hit something hard with her head. The blow knocked her off, and she fell on the ground. She looked up, massaging her forehead. There was nothing in sight. Only air and grass.

“What happened?” Candy Apple trotted towards her, worried.

“I don’t know, I just…” The mare reached out her hoof. It rested on something solid, but she couldn’t see anything. Like the air concentrated at some point. She moved her hoof around and realized that the surface was much bigger. Cider stood up, feeling the adrenaline once again filling her veins. She took a look back. As she predicted, the direction of the invisible barrier was running in a direction parallel to the fence. Trying to ignore the panic, she looked closer. It wasn’t made of anything. It looked like just more meadow like the terrain behind her, but it was rock solid.

The panic hit her eventually. She finally began to understand, and her thoughts dashed like crazy. Pieces started falling on their places, creating complete images of countless possible explanations.

But the conclusion was simple. They were trapped. There was no way out. Ponyville was a cage, and the ponies inside were nothing more but rats, not even aware that they were imprisoned all this time. All their lives in one town. Rats.

“Cider… what does it mean?” Candy Apple looked at her with her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and fear. “What is going on?”

But Cider couldn’t hear her anymore. She turned around with static flooding her ears and ran away. Not even sure where, not even aware she was running. She jumped through the hole, cutting a long scar on her side with a protruding wire. She didn’t even feel the pain.

Cider came back to her senses just when she found herself back on the road. She realized that she had left her sister behind, but by the moving surface of the ocean of grass she could tell that the filly was almost keeping up.

“Cider, please expla- you’re bleeding!” Candy exclaimed, jumping out onto the dirt road.

“It’s just a small cut.” The mare shook her head. “Candy, listen to me. What we just saw was probably something we should have never seen. And I’m afraid that if somepony finds out that we know there’s an invisible wall around Ponyville, we will be in serious trouble. I mean, if there really is anypony who knows what is going on. That’s why”- she put hooves on her sister’s shoulders –“ you have to promise me that you will not tell anyone what you saw here tonight. Anypony. Not even your friends, not even our parents. Do you promise?”

The filly nodded.

“Promise!”

“Okay, I promise.” Candy took a step aside, freeing from Cider’s hooves. “But I don’t understand anything…”

“Neither do I.” The older sister hid face in her hooves. “But I will find out… somehow. As for now, we have to get back home before someone notices we’ve been away for too long.”

She couldn’t sleep that night either.

Her thoughts were galloping, and she couldn’t stop them. Circling roads, fences, walls, cages, rats, rats, rats…

There had to be an explanation for all that. The primary assumption was that she wasn’t crazy. She couldn’t be crazy. But the world was mad for sure. When did it go mad? And how? And, most importantly, why?

She kept fighting with her thoughts almost till dawn. Finally, she fell asleep.

She met Candy Apple by the barn, playing fetch with their dog.

“Hey, sis!” the filly shouted, throwing the stick away as hard as she could. “Did you sleep well?”

“Listen, Candy.” Cider leaned close to her sister. “About last night. I hope you didn’t say a word to anypony.”

“Last night?” Candy grabbed the stick the dog brought back to her and took another swing. “What about last night? Did I miss something?”

“Come on,” the mare laughed nervously, looking around, “I know you promised you’d keep it a secret, but there’s nopony here except you and me.”

The filly furrowed her brow as she turned to her. “Are you feeling alright? I spent the whole night in bed. In fact, I went to sleep earlier than I normally do.”

“You… what?” Cider Drop took a step back. “You don’t remember last night?”

“I remember it pretty we-” the filly stopped. “Actually, I’m not sure what I was doing before going to sleep, huh. But I know I was in bed virtually right after supper.”

Cider fell on her haunches.

I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy…

“By the way,” the filly said, throwing the stick again, “what is that thing on your side? Did you cut yourself? It looks painful.”

The scar! It wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. She had proof, physical proof that the actions of the night really took place. But why didn’t Candy remember anything? She was there as well. Maybe it wasn’t her after all? Maybe it was somepony who pretended to be her? Or maybe it was her, but some ponies came and erased her memory? What if…

No! she shouted inside her head. I’m not crazy, and I won’t let paranoia defile my reasoning. Something was evidently wrong, but there were neither any pony doppelgangers nor mysterious ponies who changed other ponies’ memory.

But what Candy had said made her realize one thing for certain: she was alone. Nopony except her even realized anything was wrong. She knew, and that meant there was something wrong with her. Just like in her programs, a bug in the system, which opened some new doors of possibilities. She hadn’t even realized when she became the rat who gained self-awareness. She was the bug.

Once Cider came back into her room, she tried to think of some sort of strategy that could lead her anywhere from that point. She had no idea where to start. She didn’t know what to look for. She didn’t know how to look for even the shadows of truth behind the thick veil of lies she had grown up with. Cider felt like a little foal thrown into the ocean. And she couldn’t swim.

Where the supposed truth would be anyway? For a Class-A citizen almost nothing was hidden. She had access to anything she could ask for…

Except for the Traders.

Nopony knew anything about the Traders.

“Have you ever talked to a Trader?” she asked Paint Brush, one of her co-workers the same day during a break when they were making some coffee.

“No. Why would I?” He grabbed his cup and threw two sugar cubes into the coffee. “I have no business with them. I don’t run any stores around town.”

“I don’t know.” Cider shrugged. “It’s just that they feel a bit… mysterious, don’t you think?”

“Why?”

“Oh well… They never stay here for a longer while. Just arrive and leave the same day. They barely talk to anypony, except for those who they’re trading with.” She observed her Paint Brush’s face very carefully as she spoke. “I wish I could talk to one of them someday.”

“What’s the problem then? You can talk to one when they arrive next time.”

Of course she could. But she wasn’t stupid. Observation was way more important than taking any actions. And apparently she was the only sane person in a town full of blind ponies. She didn’t want to draw any attention and blow her cover in front of the only ponies who supposedly knew anything more. There had to be someone or something behind all this, and Cider was pretty sure the Traders were the key.

She didn’t want to be a lab rat. She wanted to be a hunter, and the truth was her prey. She knew she couldn’t just run towards her prey, screaming. She had to be clever.

“Applejack, when was the last time you left Ponyville?” she asked in the evening.

“Ah can’t really remember, sugarcube,” the matriarch mused. “Why do ya ask?”

“Try to recall some memories. I just want to know things, like always.”

“Like always,” Applejack chuckled. “Ah do remember lotsa travels very clearly, ya know. It’s not like ah forgot them. Mah friends and I traveled all over Equestria long time ago…”

“And who are those friends? Or were? Where are they now?” Cider bit her lip. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Ah don’ really know. They must have left some day, is all…”

“You don’t care what your best friends are doing? How do you know they’re even alive? Applejack, look at me!” Cider stood up and stepped forward. The matriarch looked her in the eyes. These were the same eyes that she remembered since her youngest years. She believed they were filled with wisdom and memories, with knowledge only she knew… But just then she realized how empty and dead they were. Applejack stared at her without any spark in her eyes. Like a lifeless doll. An animal.

A rat.

“I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!” Cider Drop circled around her room. The so-called top tier brains, the Class-A citizens were blind morons. Her mentor was a soulless puppet. She caught her own reflection in the mirror. Her green mane was messy, and her eyes had dark rings around them.

Cider felt a sudden strike of anger. She raised her hoof, ready to smash the mirror to pieces. “Everything here is fake. How do I even tell if I’m real in this whole mess?”

She put down her hoof. The mirror was the only thing in which she still saw some hope. As long as she could see sanity in her own eyes, she knew she had to keep going. “If I go insane, everything will be lost,” she whispered to herself.

She had a plan. She knew where to start.

The answer lay inside her best friends. The friends who had never failed her, and who were always sane and logical. The friends who always listened and who she trusted with her whole heart.

Cider Drop turned on the computer.

She had access to everything except the secure data of the Traders? It was the high time to change that.

It wasn’t an easy task. The algorithms they used to secure the connections were good, and she didn’t have any experience in dealing with those. She could only rely on her own intelligence. Cider had created a few data locks herself, but she had never tried breaking any. It was a real challenge.

And Cider loved challenges.

She spent almost the whole night trying different approaches. Taking only a few hours of sleep again, she started her assault as soon as she woke up, with a big portion of an apple pie and a huge cup of black coffee. It was Saturday, so she had two days for herself. Hours passed quickly, but the system always managed to outsmart her.

It was a tough battle. Reflecting on the screen, she could see her mane becoming messier and messier with each passing minute. Her brain begged her for a break, and her eyes were bone-dry. But she refused to give up. Cider knew she would be able to break through.

And finally, as Sunday evening waned, she did it. Almost falling on her face, sleep deprived and starved. She barely kept herself from letting out an excited shout.

Before her eyes, on the computer screen, she could see countless charts of incomprehensible data. Encoded, or maybe abbreviated lines and numbers went to infinity. Cider found it hard to believe that so much information could even be stored somewhere. She didn’t understand a single thing, so she decided to leave it all for later. There were other things to see there.

Cider didn’t really care for the trading data. She knew what Ponyville exported and imported. What she wanted to see the most were the connection logs. If there was any data on the servers, it meant it had to be sent from somewhere. Cider hoped she could unveil some of the addresses potentially from outside Ponyville.

Getting the logging data wasn’t as much work from that point. She quickly found the list, which, as it turned out, didn’t have any extra protection.

The list was bigger than she had expected. Instead of two, maybe three external addreses, there were over a dozen of them. Almost all the addresses had the same initial numbers, which meant they belonged to the same source. They all had to belong to the Traders. But there was another address, that didn’t match the rest. And it wasn’t a Ponyville address either.

Somepony else must have broken into the system as well. Somepony else decided to infiltrate the database of the Traders. It led to a very simple conclusion: there was something out there. There had to be. Excited with her new discovery, but too tired to investigate it further she quickly created a simple file, which she hid between the countless trading logs. Its purpose was to track the connections and give her information about any new data that appeared in the database.

Making sure that the file was invisible, she turned off her machine and finally went to sleep.

The next day was Monday, so she had to wake up early. She got up before her normal time and, after making a cup of coffee, turned on the computer to see what had happened during the night. She knew that all the trading data had to flow regardless of the time of day and night, so she expected her little spy to be flooded with a lot of unintelligible data and paths to the sources. When she opened the output file and saw that it was empty, she furrowed her brow. “Nothing? Really?” she muttered. She immediately broke into the database again and saw that indeed a lot of fresh charts had appeared during the night. Her program wasn’t working, even though she had checked it before going to bed. Frowning at her own obvious mistake, she opened the code.

And all the blood in her veins froze instantly and the static hit her ears.

Between the lines, messing up the code continuum, she found two capitalized words.

HELLO EQUESTRIA.