Mirroring Skies

…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.