The Broken Toy

After returning from the restroom she had barely had time to run to, Rainbow Dash felt a lot better, even though she had spent about ten minutes hugging the toilet while spilling her guts. Ten minutes that seemed like hours.

Too bad about the croutons. And a glass of whiskey, too. But not the mineral water.

Sam had gone out, apparently to pick up a couple more crates of booze from the storeroom.

Dash went back to the bar and looked at the empty bottle. Her stomach did a protesting somersault.

“Aw, jeez... dammit," the pegasus muttered to herself. “Half my life I've dreamed of freedom... And now I have no idea what to do with it.”

It was as if she heard the calm voice of Alex Vendar in her mind. Her master. The man who had taken it upon himself to raise her as soon as Dash could understand human language.

“After watching the show and becoming a brony, I've admired you, Rainbow Dash. Admired to the very depth of my soul. But what did I see? You deserve much, much more than to be overshadowed by Twilight Sparkle's achievements, than to be just a one-time champion and ‘one of the Mane Six.’ To be the best at anything, you lacked toughness. Both in the show and here, where I see spineless, pale semblances of the real you. And then I realized that it was my duty to make you who you truly deserve to be, to temper your spirit and body like a blade. And then, only then, when your loyalty is matched by an unbreakable will and a steely hardness, will you come closer to the ideal you strive for with all your soul, without even realizing it.”

Rainbow closed her eyes, sinking into her memories. In the last few days she had gone through her life again and again and for the first time she asked herself what she wanted for herself. There was no answer. Alex had always told Rainbow what to do and where to go. And for a long time, the little pony had never questioned why.

Just the way it had been.

Of course, he had been teaching her. Rainbow hadn't known it then, and didn't care now, but Alex had drilled the school program into her. However, the pegasus didn't shirk much. Besides, her master didn't limit her choice of hobbies in her spare time, and Dash learned to play the electric guitar and to sing well.

But the main, or rather the most memorable, training was martial arts, in which Vendar was a great master.

He trained the pegasus filly himself. Little Rainbow quickly lost count of how often she fell to the tatami floor, crying in pain. But Alex was tough with her, and after a short break, everything was repeated until the move was mastered.

But Rainbow still remembered the development of her strength, agility, and flexibility with a shudder. And now, sitting at the bar, it was as if she was reliving the aching pain caused by the tremendous strain. When the seventh round was over and the whole world seemed to shrink to the size of flaming bundles of muscles... But when they seemed about to knot or tear, the blow of the stick forced her to make at least one more move...

And the minutes of peace and rest were all the more precious. Alex himself healed the bruises and grazes of the little pegasus, gave her a massage, and even allowed her to break out of the strict regime of the day from time to time. At such moments, Rainbow was ready to kiss the man who had made her suffer so much. And at the next training session, she would give it her all, without any prodding or beating. Just to earn the meager praise that filled her heart with pride.

A wicked grin appeared on Rainbow's face. What a naive and enthusiastic pony she had been back then! She had taken all the hay Vendar had stuffed in her ears at face value... She had been growing up, trying her best just not to see the cold glint of her master's gray eyes that stabbed at her every time she screwed up.

But even though Rainbow wanted to kill Alex Vendar with her own hooves for every moment of pain, she had to admit that the training had done her good. Dash's body had progressed at an incredible rate, harmoniously and evenly. The pegasus was glowing with health and energy, the envy of all.

Soon, Alex paid Spitfire Hancock to develop her flying skills. And the grateful Rainbow became the best student for five years. So said the fiery pegasus herself, who had long worked for Mr. M and never been lower than third in the Pony Play Gladiator League standings.

For her sixteenth birthday, Alex took Rainbow to the club. The Pony Play became a kaleidoscope of new experiences for young Rainbow Dash Vendar. Socializing with other ponies and humans. Meeting Bob and Dracus, who happily accepted the azure pegasus into a band called Pink Dragon, at first just as a second guitarist. But when snooty Scootaloo Weiss and Sweetie Belle Potter decided to form their own duo, Rainbow replaced them both.

It was a real outlet. Hoof on heart — even now, thinking about her feelings, Rainbow had no idea how to describe them.

Friends? Not to mention close. Dracus couldn't be counted on — he would get drunk or stoned or just forget about them. Or crack a joke that made her want to kick him, and then laugh. And Bob had tried to hit on her when she was drunk, and she had barely fought him off. It was the first time she had ever thought that was why Scootaloo and Sweetie had left.

Partners? Maybe, but none of the members of Pink Dragon profited from the music. Rock classics, new compositions and joint performances united the energetic rainbow-haired pegasus, a lonely biker and a genofreak dragonid who generally rarely came out of a drug or alcohol haze.

By the way, it was Dracus who first gave Rainbow a taste of alcohol. As he said, "A shot for the greatest, the most awesome Rainbow Dash ever."

The pegasus shivered as she remembered the whipping Alex had given her. When his charge had come home smelling of whiskey, it had been the first time she had ever seen her master lose his temper. After that, it had been impossible to sit for two days on the mercilessly whipped rump. Dracus walked for a week with a broken face — Alex was not limited to Rainbow alone. It was after this offense that Rainbow first experienced the whip and received her first scars, the symbols of her shame.

She wanted another drink. But her stomach had a mind of its own, and the mere sight of the bottle made Rainbow dizzy, and a sour and disgusting taste filled her mouth.

“Darn it," she said aloud, "I wanna get drunk. And I can't... Life sucks... Ah, whatever.”

She looked down the hall. There was no one to listen to her: it was still early for evening customers, and daytime ones were vanishingly few. Waitresses Dash had ignored all her life scurried between tables, and a drone buzzed in the arena, leveling and compacting the sandy surface.

The arena...

Dash smiled, almost kindly. In her first bout, the rainbow-haired pegasus, the dark horse of the tournament, had beaten the junior favorite to a pulp. Then, after striking the adult Diamond Tiara with a spectacular final blow, she raised her bloody face with a swollen eye to the stands and saw Alex Vendar smiling at her. And she smiled back.

That day, Rainbow truly believed in her master's words with all her soul. In what she still lacked in toughness. Trials. And her greatest fear was not the fear of pain and punishment that would inevitably accompany carelessness and laziness, but the fear of disappointing Alex, who had put so much time and effort into raising her, Rainbow.

That day, her master had let her eat an entire jar of jam, let her lie in bed half the day before, and taken her to a real spa. Dash had never known such relaxation in her life, and in the evening, she gathered her courage, flew up, and kissed Alex on the cheek. He didn't say anything back, just gave her the same smile she had seen in the arena... Oh, the former Dash had been willing to do a lot to see that smile again.

The pegasus sighed. There was still a picture hanging in the dressing room: an enthusiastically jumping Rainbow Dash Vendar with the Arena Junior Cup in her hooves, and a smiling Alex beside her.

There were fewer training sessions, but each one was now worth two. And Rainbow had to squeal again when the bamboo stick hit, pushing her to a new, unseen level.

It was as if all her previous successes had been forgotten. Dash felt like an immature loser again, getting a well-deserved whack on the rump with the stick.

Alex explained that he was preparing Rainbow for the championship league of the Pony Play Arena, and the pegasus accepted with grim determination.

But her first bout under the new conditions ended in a crushing defeat for Rainbow. And the pain of bumps and bruises was nothing compared to what the pegasus felt as she looked into the eyes of Alex Vendar, who looked down from the stands with anger and disappointment...

The man drags the battered Rainbow home and throws her unceremoniously to the floor. She doesn't make a sound, even though her whole body aches. She knows she's about to be taught a lesson. A lesson in mistakes and punishment to consolidate the material.

“You screwed up, Dash," Alex says in an impassive voice.

“My opponent was a griffon!" the pegasus tries to object. “Twice as heavy as me!”

“There is no victory in defeating the weak. Until you realize that, you'll be a loser whose bloody snot no one cares about. And it's not pity that awaits losers, it's punishment.”

“Deservedly so," Rainbow agrees.

She quickly takes off her sweat-soaked and dusty clothes and sits with her back to her master, waiting for another whipping.

“I'm ready.”

“No.”

Dash crunches her broken nose and looks around in surprise. Alex is forgiving? That doesn't sound like him.

“You've grown up, Rainbow," the master says, shaking his head and looking somehow... new, "and you've gotten too strong for this. I think it's time. Let's go!”

In the backyard, Alex hands Rainbow the pole and fights her seriously for the first time. The pegasus realizes in the first minute that everything before was just a game. And this time, Alex doesn't stop even after she falls.[1]

Soon, the battered Dash is curled up on the sand of the training ground, shaking with stifled sobs. The man is standing over her, pressing his foot down on her face.

“You still lack toughness," Alex says. "And anger.”

“It's too... much pain..." the pegasus wheezes.

“Pain and pleasure are the same thing.” The man's voice remains impassive. “It's time for you to accept it. Turn it into a cold rage that will take you to the next level and finally unleash your full potential.”

He carries her to another room where there is a low bed where Alex used to massage the pegasus, kneading the stretched and overworked muscles. There is no strength to resist, and Dash doesn't even notice that Alex isn't going to clean her up like he used to. Instead, he fastens special restraints to her legs, which until recently had never been used...

Rainbow Dash is no foal. And it's not hard for her to guess her master's intentions. Of course, because of her age, she sometimes had strange thoughts and even dreams in which Alex Vendar played the role of a stallion. But that was different.

And in general, this was not at all how the rainbow pegasus had imagined her first time.

She likes Soarin Piscek, and Rainbow imagines a fight or a race, after which the heated ponies go to the shower... together. And in the morning they fall asleep in bed, completely exhausted from each other...

But reality is more prosaic.

She immediately loses her determination and enthusiasm, finding strength only to whisper faintly, “Alex, don't! Just not that—”

“Wrong answer," he said in his usual voice, wrapping her rainbow tail around his hand.

Rainbow Dash Vendar has seen a lot in the Pony Play. And heard from other ponies, too. But what joy overflowed her heart when she told the lethargic, broken sub-Rainbows that Alex Vendar, though strict beyond measure, never let loose. And as she caught the envious glances of the other rainbow pegasi, she swelled with pride that her master and teacher was not like that.

Rhythmically shuddering at the man's movements and thinking about it, Rainbow bites her bloody lips and squeezes her eyes shut, trying hard to hold back the tears. But it doesn't take long before she can't stand it anymore.

Pain, shame, and frustration melt into a feeling that Dash still cannot define. The tears begin to flow.

Pain is something she's long gotten used to. But THIS is too much.

“Please..." the pegasus says through her sobs, forgetting her pride. "Stop... Please!”

“These tears must be replaced with tears of joy," the man says, as if he did not hear her, and strokes her cutie mark in the form of a cloud with a lightning bolt, "and nothing else.”

There is no calm in his voice. The fiend is only angered by the pain and pleas of his helpless victim. Then the rainbow pegasus begins to scream and flail. To the point of hoarseness and skin torn by the bonds. Screaming insults and threats in desperation.

And even when the finale comes, Dash feels no relief.

After all, there is no need to be Twilight Sparkle to guess that this is only the first time of many...

“Almost there," the master sums up in a husky voice. “But it's still not...”

When Rainbow wakes up after being raped, she crawls out of bed and hides in a closet, sitting with her legs wrapped around her for the rest of the night, refusing to believe this happened to her. The whole world seems to have split into before and after. And whatever she had thought of Alex Vendar before, she now saw a different side of her master that had nothing to do with the image she had formed of him.[2]

Rainbow Dash snapped out of her reverie, grabbed the unfinished bottle, and threw it against the wall of the bar. Shards of dark glass and splashes of smelly eighty-proof alcohol flew in every direction.

“Alex!” shouted the pegasus. “Even from beyond the grave you laugh at my pain, you bastard! B-bitch! I hate ya!”

Sam, who had returned, glanced disapprovingly at the stain, which one of the waitresses rushed to clean up. She seemed to be Sunset Shimmer Two, now glancing cautiously at Dash. Yes, that was right, Two: she had an earring with a blue stone in it.

“No one... no one's gonna make fun of me anymore," the bartender heard Rainbow mutter as she paced towards the exit.

“Where are you going, Rainbow?” Sam asked, but stopped short when the pegasus looked back at him, her eyes squinting the color of pure ruby. "Dracus called and said they'd be here in two hours to rehearse.”

“Just wanna kick one little brat," the pegasus snarled, "so she'll never get up again.”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “She ran away, remember?” he asked. “Someone helped her. Almost a year ago. You're drunk like a skunk, Rainbow Dash!”

The pegasus ignored the human's comment.

“I'll find her," she growled, spreading her wings, "and she'll wish she'd never gotten out of her incubator. I'm gonna set up such a rainbow factory that the little turd will be begging for death as a favor!”

“Dash, she's just a foal—”

“That scum dared to tell me to my face that I'm not the real Rainbow Dash!” the azure pegasus shouted as she grew increasingly furious. “In the arena, I kill for less! For less!”

Sam felt uneasy at the tone in which it was said.

The door slammed, and soon the sound of flapping wings and a distant scream came from the street, “I'll find ya! Ya hear me, little one?! Find ya!”

The bartender sighed and looked over at the waitress who was cowering under the nearest table in fear. There was real terror in her aquamarine eyes. Rainbow Dash Vendar was not stingy with her slaps for the servants no one thought to stand up for.

“I know what you mean," Sam said, wiping a glass. “Rainbow's been a mess since Alex died. Go take a break. It looks like Pink Dragon's show tonight will have to be canceled...”

The red-haired unicorn squeaked gratefully and quickly retreated.

From that day on, Rainbow finds herself on a couch with bindings for the slightest offense. And very soon she learns what a man, driven by lust and impunity, can do to a helpless pony.

Even the massage after the exercises becomes different. At least now the touch of her master's strong, skilled hands brings her nothing but disgust instead of relaxation and pleasure.

Then Alex says that overcoming all this, merging pain and pleasure, is a new height that Dash should strive for. But she can't find the strength to get over herself and accept it. Even though she tries to force herself to enjoy it, she only feels frustration and anger.

And this powerlessness to reach the desired height gradually grows into an ever-increasing cruelty that spills out into the arena. And soon, facing that griffon again, Dash Vendar enjoys snapping the bird's neck, even though the referee's siren signals the end of the fight.

For it is this griffon that Rainbow now blames for changing her life so drastically. And she takes her revenge. Brutally and mercilessly.

The relationship with Soarin Piscek is broken, as Rainbow now just twitches at the touch of others. And when the stallion, seeing his marefriend's depression, tries to hug her, she hits him with her hoof as hard as she can. When Rainbow comes to her senses, Soarin leaves and never shows up at the Pony Play again. Neither does his master.

Even her appearance has changed. The black leather replaces the athletic uniform, for the grips slip over it, and the heavy spikes and rivets serve as additional weapons and protection. The long mane is easy to grasp, and Dash cuts the rainbow strands into a short comb. Scars have long covered her azure pelt, but now Rainbow is proud of them, though she tries to hide fresh ones under makeup...

Several more gladiators are killed by the hooves of the azure pegasus. Dash is particularly cruel to her doppelgangers. Some are foolish enough to joke about how her master is now having fun with her. Others attempt to challenge her. Thirds just live simpler, happier lives, and those are the ones Rainbow really hates. Soon everyone learns that if another rainbow pegasus is pitted against Dash Vendar, it will be a verdict for her, for almost no one can match the new favorite in strength and skill, and even less in cruelty.

But most of all, Rainbow Dash hates her image from the show. Happy and carefree, living in innocence and happiness among loving hearts and enthusiastic admirers.

The image that inspired Alex Vendar. It drives the pegasus into a state of impotent frenzy. Oh, sometimes she just dreamed of reaching the fictional pony land! How she would love to kill her original with her own hooves!

But Alex was relentless. And the champion of the arena, the lead singer of Pink Dragon and simply the coolest Rainbow Dash of the Pony Play, at home again and again becomes a helpless victim, despite resistance, pleading, or silent patience.

It's as if all of Rainbow's accomplishments remain there, outside the doors of the Pony Play. And though Alex still cares for the azure pegasus, in her heart, admiration for her master gives way to real hatred. For the pain and humiliation. For the vile touches and the ruthless, silent taunts of failure and pleas for mercy.

And at the same time, Alex manages to dilute it all with new admonitions and advice that she damn well has to follow. These interludes become the best treatment and relaxing rest, but after them the torment only comes with new force.

Her master does not condescend to explain his actions, despite the inquiries of the bewildered pegasus. He just smiles with the corner of his lips, as if deliberately mocking her, and continues to speak of a new stage that she must overcome on her own and finally complete her training.

A few hours later, Rainbow Dash summed up her speech while standing in an unlit room, “Anyway, I'm outta here.”

“Really?” stretched a corny voice from a high chair hidden in the shadows. "And where will you go?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No, you cannot," Rainbow's companion said firmly. “I see a flighty lass who has lost her master and doesn't know what to do. But the problem is, except for stage antics and fighting, she can do nothing.”

“I can sing and play guitar!”

“...which is what you do in my club. So, are you going to sell your body or get into real fights that end in the death of one of the participants? You don't stand a chance against an orc or a xenomorph... let alone a trained human. No matter how hard Mr. Vendar tried, may he rest in peace.”

Rainbow took a step forward, but was stopped by a warning hiss from the darkness.

“Listen to me, you friggin' rat, I’m the one who decides how to live my life,” the pegasus snarled through her teeth. “And I can find a job that doesn't involve violence and selling my ass.”

“A rat, huh?” The owner of the voice chuckled. “All right, then. But mark my words: a week from now, when you fail to find a job, you will come crawling back here and fawn over me, just like you fawned over your human. Just to please me so I'll give you your job back. Or rather, the job of Spitfire, whose blood is on you... Shame on you for killing your mentor.”

“That's it, I'll kill ya now..." the rainbow pegasus growled, but suddenly she felt the sharp sting at the end of a flexible tail poking into her chest, and the hiss turned from warning to threatening.

Out of the darkness came the voice again, “And what are you going to do? Drill me with your big eyes? Or try to hit me? Even assuming you manage to... it would be a pitiful sight. Because you cannot do anything else. You are just a punching bag. So if you want to go, you may go. But you will be back. Your kind are always back.”

“As soon as I'm done with my business, I'll be back for you, and your ugly mutt won't stop me," the pegasus said through gritted teeth.

“Looking forward to our next meeting.”

As the door closed behind Dash, a white-gloved hand stroked the monster lying beside the chair.

“Rat...” the voice said. “Why does everyone find that offensive, I wonder? Their survival skills are to be envied.”

The monster hissed in agreement. It could not speak, but the intelligence of such creatures was often underestimated, which was a fatal mistake.

“You know," the owner of the white glove continued, stroking his pet, "I admire Mr. Vendar. He created a perfect fighter. A little incomplete, though, but I think we'll figure something out, won't we?”

Another hiss came from the darkness.

Rainbow Dash left the office. A nasty, carefree giggle was still ringing in her ears.

She looked back at the two thugs guarding the doors. They had overheard the conversation and were just smiling stupidly.

“Buck you all!” Rainbow snarled and took off.

The sweet, cold dish of revenge awaited her.

* * *

Seraphima traveled to a few other places where she thought they might know something. But unfortunately, either the right people, human or not, weren't there, or they didn't know about the mint-green unicorn synthet that had disappeared a few days ago.

Victor barely participated in the conversation, deep in his own thoughts.

By the time they left another bar, the sun had already set. The sky was still bright, but they could not see the sun itself because of the towering buildings. It was noticeably colder, and a chilly wind blew through his thin shirt.

Seraphima decided to try cheering him up.

“Vic, listen, you need to rest. And most importantly, keep your chin up—”

Her voice trailed off. Her companion did not listen to her, wandering far away where the little horse was at his side. Happy and carefree, blessed with the benefits of the White City and, what's more, living a much happier life than millions of people.

Seraphima thought that a pony like that probably never went hungry, never worked eighteen hours a day, and never wondered if her home would be safe when she returned.

“Maybe Lyra is still—" Victor started but Seraphima cut him off with a raise of her voice.

“Hey! I'm not dragging you through the back alleys of Gray City just 'cause I've got nothing better to do! And not 'cause Zelda asked me to help. And not even 'cause of the money you've given me. The little pony's in a jam, and she's waiting for her knight in shining armor to rescue her. So come on, don't snivel!”

Victor looked at the girl with surprised eyes, and God only knew what thoughts were going through his head.

“What if that was her in the brothel after all?” the man asked suddenly. “And her life is just an artificial memory...”

So that's what you've been thinking all along, Seraphima thought.

But aloud she said, “Forget it, it's not worth the risk. Rewriting the behavioral program and generating artificial memories is not just brainwashing. It costs more than the synthet itself, and a lot more. No amount of reselling stolen goods will pay for it.”

Seraphima didn't know for sure if what she said was true, but she hoped with all her might that it was. However, there were reasons for it. Victor wanted to say something else, but the girl managed to be the first again.

“And don't listen to any rainbow alcoholics, it's more expensive for you. What I've heard from the other Lyra makes me think that she's much stronger than she looks. And she's certainly not gonna kill herself over some drunken babble. Come on, get in the car, we gotta get you home.”

“What time is it?” Vic asked suddenly. “The White City checkpoints close at nine.”

Seraphima glanced at her wrist communicator.

“Damn, it's seven now. It's two or two and a half hours to the center, we might not make it. Maybe you call your hovercar?”

Victor thought for a moment, then smiled guiltily. “Outgoing automatic flights after six at night are forbidden. The hovercar just won't leave the hangar.”

“But why?”

“There are several reasons... or causes, depending on how you look at it. Heavy hovercars, airships, and stratoliners begin transporting cargo in the evening. In busy traffic, the autopilots of low-priority vehicles may fail, and telemetry arrives late. And a delay of a second or two can be disastrous.”

“Why didn't you earlier—" Seraphima started, then waved her hand. "Ah, forget it. Get in the car.”

“Shall we go to the hotel?” Vic asked.

“Oh, c'mon. Just to me,” Seraphima snorted. She caught his surprised look and added, “If you're not squeamish, of course.”

“I'm not that—“ The man was embarrassed, but noticed her smile. “Ah, to hell with your jokes! No, I won't be squeamish.”

Seraphima's smile widened. “Of course, I can't promise you the comforts you're used to. Just a simple den in the Gray.”

“I'll get over it somehow,” Victor replied, getting into the car after the girl. “I've even slept in a tent. When I was a kid, my father often took me camping.”

Seraphima started the engine and giggled. “I can imagine. With air conditioning, nanocoating, and a drone guard.”

Victor took no offense. “There was no drone.”

As the car drove away, it was filled with genuine two-voiced laughter...

The apartment Seraphima had taken Victor to was hidden in the bowels of a residential area near Bismarck Avenue.

As they drove, Victor asked who Bismarck was, but Seraphima didn't know. Probably, they both decided, he owned some kind of big business — a car dealership, for example. Seraphima assumed that, remembering the brand of the outdated Opel Bismarck crossover.

Behind the metal door was a narrow hallway that connected a fairly spacious room with a bathroom and kitchen. Victor tried not to show it as he breathed a sigh of relief. Admittedly, he had expected much worse. Like a place to sleep in a hostel.

“I got this place from my parents," Seraphima read his mind. "Come in and make yourself at home.”

She turned on the light and soon the dishes were clattering in the kitchen.

Victor, entering the room, noticed that there was more space than necessary. The bed, which could have been a double, was by the window, which was dirty from the outside. A cabinet with a TV set, the two-dimensional screen of which was built right into the case, leaned modestly against the wall. There was a pile of clothes in the corner and a worn carpet on the floor. Actually, the interior was limited to that, leaving a lot of space in the room.

Accustomed to almost sterile surfaces, Victor didn't immediately realize that the amazing mixture of smells was just dust, old carpet, and a little bit of machine oil. And then there was the elusive, delicate scent of a woman's dwelling.

Seraphima prepared some sublimated food for dinner, but Victor was not picky, though he felt he was chewing something quite different from what the food appeared to be at first glance. But something that could be imagined to look like vegetable soup somehow banished the astringent feeling of hunger.

“Lie down on the bed,” Seraphima, having finished her portion, said in an unapologetic tone

“And you?”

“And I'll sleep on the floor.”

Victor looked into her brown eyes and spoke, “Seraphima, that's not right. It turns out I came not only to visit, but to get you off bed.”

“I always sleep on the floor,” she answered. “It's better on the hard floor as you have a sedentary job. So don't be a buzzkill and lie down. If you want to take a shower or something, you've seen where. I hope you can handle the taps.”

“Don't think I'm helpless," Victor took offense. “In the White City, we haven't forgotten what hands are for.”

Seraphima only smiled.

Some time later, as she lay in the darkness, she heard the man from the White City stirring on the bed. He froze for a few minutes, but soon he started again.

“It's past your bedtime," Seraphima said, fed up with the rustling. “Aren't you tired?”

“I can't fall asleep," was the answer.

“We'll have to drive halfway across the city tomorrow, Vic.”

The answer didn't come right away. “We? But I only paid you for one day.”

“You paid me more than I'll ever make in a day. So come on, give it a rest.”

“You don't have to—”

Victor did not finish because he heard a small sigh from the floor where the girl lay on a thin mattress. There was a rustling of the blanket, then the bed rocked. Victor could make out a slender silhouette in the darkness against the slightly brighter window.

A silhouette that gracefully shed its T-shirt.

Victor lifted himself up on his elbows but was stopped by a thin hand.

“You need to relax, boy.”

Without waiting for an answer, she gave him a passionate kiss on the lips, then deftly moved under the covers.

“I can't do this," Victor said hoarsely when there was a brief pause between kisses.

Hand on heart, his experience in this area was limited to the Virtuality. Yes, there was the full immersive effect, but Victor, like so many other young men from White City, had nothing to compare it to.

The company gave a guarantee and no one questioned it. And it was simpler than a real relationship.

Seraphima didn't reply, but her hands and tongue seemed to have a life of their own.

Victor, riddled with nervous shivers, did not dare to protest. Nor, to be honest, did he feel like it.

Seraphima's body was smooth and firm, unlike the delicate models from cyberspace. As flexible as a lizard, the girl was skillful and passionate. Victor noted to himself that she had very little in common with the refined caresses of virtual harlots.

And it was wonderful.

Much later, as he fell asleep holding the tired Seraphima in his arms, Victor thought about filing a complaint against the developers of virtual dreams.

Their programs did not give any comparison with a real girl, despite the praised "immersive effect"...

* * *

The morning over the dump was accompanied only by the rare cries of birds trying to find a nesting place among the mountains of garbage. Fortunately, most of them were circling over the fresher areas where there was still relatively edible organic matter. But it was where Jerry would not have gone for all the treasures in the world.

And not just because of the danger of being pecked by a vulture.

He grimaced, remembering how he had nearly suffocated once, wading through mountains of rotting slop, and how he'd had to shave off all his hair to get rid of the vermin. Good thing he hadn't gotten sick or inhaled too much of the decaying products.

He had stayed away from active dumps ever since, even if his stomach was churning with hunger.

Above the desk Jerry sat at when he woke up early was a holographic screen with columns of lines running rapidly down it.

The briefcase, opened with an electronic lockpick, revealed itself to be packed from top to bottom with blocks of oddly configured information media, apparently assembled into a single cluster. The input-output loop, despite its extravagant appearance, fit into a standard socket — but only for backward compatibility, it seemed.

The mouse now watched the master sector decoding character by character, his mood darkening with each byte.

What caught his attention was how abruptly Scootaloo sat up on the mattress, eyes wide with fear.

“What's the matter?” Jerry asked. “Bad dream?”

The pegasus swallowed nervously and replied, “I feel like someone just passed by my grave.”

Jerry sighed. “Scoot, you read too many comics at bedtime.”

Lyra moved too, awakened by Scootaloo's fiddling and voices.

“Good morning, girls," Jerry added. “I've warmed up some water, so wash up.”

His voice was grim. When the ponies came to the table, Jerry pointed to the screen and said, “We have a problem. A very big problem.”

“What is it?” Scootaloo asked. “We can't sell this, can we?”

“That's not the point. We can't even decipher it. There's a mind-boggling amount of data in the case, and at first glance it looks like it's corrupted, but I think it's just masked by a high-digit asymmetric crypto algorithm.”

“Crypto... asy... What?!" said Scootaloo, confused. "You're a fool yourself!”

“Anyway. The only thing I could read was the master sector. To comply with read-write protocols, it had a standard cipher, and it's been compromised for six months. As usual, Discord is in the details," Jerry said with a wry grin, and continued, "Besides the initialization commands, there were only a few directory headers, but their names and metadata alone tell us we're in deep trouble.”

“What's up? What could be in there?”

“You know that synthets can't reproduce naturally. Well, according to the descriptions, there's an encoded formula for a mutagen that solves the problem for both the recipient and his descendants. The mutagen is common to all synthets. At the time of recording, five doses had been synthesized.”

The ponies glanced at each other. Scootaloo wrinkled her nose.

“I thought it would be more fun," the ginger pony snorted, sticking out her tongue, "and here it is... formulas-shmormulas. It was so worth running around the city all day for this. We should have dropped it.”

Lyra laughed as she patted the little pony's mane. “It's freedom, Jerry! For everyone who... what did you say? Can't reproduce? Well, now they can!”

Jerry looked into the unicorn's eyes. “It's a sentence,” he spoke grimly. “On anyone who has even learned of its existence. Synthets who can live independently outside Gigapoleis, in no man's land, are a threat to human society. It all makes sense now. The persistence of the police and the corporate hunters. I wouldn't be surprised if someone else is involved.”

“What's the big deal?” Scootaloo asked.

“This is only the first part, the so-called Key of Life. It is part of another project, global in scope. It's called Overlord. Unfortunately, the sector ended at a structure marker with metadata — but I'd hazard a guess that all those crazy petabytes of information are related to it. And something tells me it's the reason we're being hunted.”

“Isn't that what Prophet was talking about?” Scootaloo asked, looking at the columns of numbers and strings of unintelligible symbols. "Wow, nothing's clear.”

“Who is this Prophet?” Lyra asked.

“Prophet...” Jerry thought for a moment. “You know, it's very long to explain. No one knows who he is or if he even exists.”

“I don't understand.”

“On the Cybernet,” Scootaloo explained, “in print, and on the walls of Gray City, there are sometimes... posters and articles. Prophet writes about a place where synthets can hide from humans. There's never a signature, and everyone calls the author Prophet—”

“Not exactly," Jerry interrupted. "Prophet is always very vague. But they all agree on one thing: there is a place somewhere where it doesn't matter whether you are a synthet or not. Where everyone is happy, without exception. Like in this Equestria of yours.”

Lyra smiled. “So there's still someone who wants to change this world, isn't there?”

“You could say that... But how to get to this unknown land of prosperity, no one knows. Prophet doesn't give any instructions. It sounds like—” The mouse paused and said in a chant, "And as the door is opened, you will step into a land where you'll be equal to the others. You'll leave your sorrows and your woes beyond the threshold. Just take a step and pay the price it costs... And so on. No details. But it's clear enough that you can't just go in there.”

“We should ask for advice," Scootaloo summed up. “From him.”

She emphasized the last word. Jerry jumped up.

"’We should’ — you mean 'it would be a good idea'?” he asked.

“No," she shook her head, "a categorical necessity...”

“Who are you talking about?” Lyra asked. “You said no one has seen Prophet, right?”

“We are talking about a huge, old, and very smart creature,” the mouse replied. He paused and added, "Sometimes I think he's too smart...”

“He's smarter than all three of us put together," Scootaloo added.

“Why is that?” Lyra asked indignantly.

“Probably because he's been alive for over a hundred years," Jerry explained, and glanced at Lyra. “He really has.”

There was a pause. The silence was broken by a low rumbling in the unicorn's stomach.

Scootaloo giggled and looked at Lyra's confused face.

“We'll eat when we get back," Jerry said. “We don't have much food this time.”

Lyra tried not to make her sigh sound too loud. As it happened, the unicorn had never, in her old or new life, had to give up food to save money. Much less starve. Equestria was a prosperous and well-fed land, and at home Victor always had sweets and fresh food on hand.
But there was no choice here, and soon the three of them left the cozy house on wheels

[1] The image: https://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/066/b/1/dash_amp_alex_by_darkknightthestral-d799nq6.png
[2] The image: https://th05.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2013/229/7/8/heartbroken_rainbow_by_mickeymonster-d6ikeoo.png