The Broken Toy

Lyra Heartstrings sat on a bench in the public park, watching the day burn out over the city.

The park, as it turned out, was full of life. There were couples and families strolling around, people just walking their pets, or athletes who had decided to get in an evening workout. Some looked back at the mint-green pony sitting on the bench, some didn't.

There happened to be a playground nearby, and as Lyra passed, children ran up to meet her a few times. One boy of about six even had the courage to ask for a ride, and the unicorn couldn't refuse, taking him around the playground to the delighted squeals of all the others.

Of course, the rides continued after that, and Lyra smiled for the first time since she'd left the Pony-Play. Even if humans were mostly cruel and uncaring, children were very different. She thought that after what she had seen via the visor and in Pony Play, she would never want human hands to touch her again, but no. Apparently, good intentions have no trouble chasing away all fears.

But after rolling the fifth child, Lyra felt very exhausted. The children noticed this and, strangely enough, almost immediately stopped asking for a "ride on the magic horse". The boy who rode first gave Lyra a sweet bagel, a girl gave her a natural apple, and the hungry unicorn didn't refuse.

Telekinesis also made the children very excited, and she had to stay a little longer to tell them about the magical land of Equestria, where unicorns, pegasi, and other magical creatures lived. Lyra carefully pushed away the idea that it was all fiction, for fear of crying in front of the children again.

After saying goodbye to the children, Lyra found a lonely bench in the shade of a spreading tree and sat down in her usual pose, which Bon Bon jokingly called "belly up".

Lyra sighed, remembering her marefriend.

I suppose a human child raised in Equestria would never have grown bitter over time, retaining the mental richness... the unicorn thought. Even a dragon can be a kind and helpful friend if he's lived among ponies since childhood, and Spike is an example of that...

But Rainbow Dash's words about Equestria being nothing more than a commercial fiction of some company came back to her. Her heart trembled, and tears filled her eyes again.

Lyra didn't want to believe it, but something inside her told her that everything the evil azure pegasus had said was unseemly, cruel, but true... After all, when she thought about it, the Mirror Pool and traveling between worlds were pretty weak excuses that didn't stand up to deep criticism.

The music that reached the unicorn's ears seemed familiar. Lyra stood up and, circling around a huge monument on a pedestal, saw a gray earth pony playing a sad melody on a cello.[1]

In her memories, Lyra did not know Octavia personally, but she had heard her play some works by well-known artists. At Canterlot's music school, the name of the talented cellist who had risen to fame was often mentioned...

She didn't want to believe that the famous Octavia Melody was just another "living toy" for someone here.

Can an entire life be false? Lyra thought. And can a pony who plays like this be just someone's toy?

Music flowed over the evening park. Lyra noticed the cello case with some cash in it. But the gray pony didn't seem at all interested in what was going on around her. Her eyes were closed and her bow fluttered over the strings, drawing sounds not from the instrument but from her soul. A light breeze ruffled her slightly worn but immaculately ironed dress, and a semicircular medallion hung around her neck, glinting in the evening sun.

Lyra telekinesed a banknote into the case and sat down on a nearby bench. She continued to think about what had piled up over the past day.

The Solaire Club and the Pony-Play seemed to be two different worlds. Opposite sides of the coin, true friendship and its ugly reflection, which made her heart feel ready to burst to look at.

There seemed to be the same ponies in both places, differing only in their clothing, but the difference was much deeper than the appearance. And while everyone in the Solaire looked happy and carefree, in the Pony-Play—

Lyra shuddered as she remembered the looks of fear, despair, and pain. The streams of tears flowing somewhere deep inside, not daring to come out. And then the movements — jerky and abrupt, often fearfully hasty... the movements of the hunted animals. Or deliberately apathetic, lethargic, as if they belonged to victims resigned to the inevitable.

And only Rainbow Dash moved confidently out of the arena, like a... fighter. Or even a predator. Exactly, like a timberwolf.

Lyra's attention was drawn to an activity not typical of a quiet, measured day in the park.

Winding through the passersby, who turned around in surprise, was a pony riding a small scooter. Lyra knew her too: her orange coat, purple mane and vehicle left no doubt who it was.

Scootaloo. One of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, a fidgety pegasus filly who occasionally got the whole of Ponyville in an uproar with her friends.

But now she was clearly trying to hide from two people in coats and hats. Lyra mentally named them Black and Gray, and the first man was clearly ahead in the chase.[2]

The scooter skidded around a bend, right next to the sitting Lyra and Octavia, who had stopped playing and was also staring at the unfolding scene.

The orange filly rolled to the ground along with her vehicle, squealing from the bumps. The man in the black coat rushed forward with a triumphant yell, and the expression on his face, even half hidden by his black glasses and black hat, did not bode well for the little pony.

Lyra jumped up from the bench at the sight, and for the first second had no idea what to do.

Ponies were a peaceful race. And even in wild times, they could hardly suppress their instincts, which urged them to run rather than fight in case of danger. But apparently, at this moment, a stronger instinct overcame the cowardly nature of the little pony.

The instinct to protect the foals from danger. And that little Scoots was in danger, Lyra didn't doubt for a second.

The man looked huge and strong. Lyra had no idea what she could use against him. Suddenly her gaze fell on a suitable object...

The fearsome man was already looming over Scootaloo, who was writhing in pain, when a garbage can crashed down on his head, beeping protestingly with the indicators on its control panel.

“Oversized garbage," said the machine's metallic voice. “Please clear the bin and call the cleaning service. Attention, oversized garbage...”

Scootaloo, as if just waiting for a catch, swiftly rolled to the side, picked herself up, and jumped back onto the small scooter. Lyra noticed that a black suitcase with a silver emblem was strapped to its trunk. The pneumatic motor of the vehicle rattled merrily.

The black man fell to the ground, cursing, and tried to pull the trash can off his head, but his partner was already approaching. He was obviously an older man, and he could not move quickly: his red face and heavy panting showed that the pursuer was wasting his last strength.

Scootaloo turned and met the mint-colored unicorn's eyes.

"Why are you standing still, silly filly?” she yelled. “RUN!”

The wheels spun sharply and the scooter raced down the path. Lyra, with an unaccountable superstitious fear in her heart, ran after it at the fastest gallop she could...

* * *

Detective Tracy, seeing the two small horses rushing away in a cloud of dust, slowed to a walk. Something in his chest throbbed and wheezed, and his heart seemed about to burst.

Yes, you're getting old, Dick, for such marathons, the man mentally complained to himself.

The orange horse had indeed appeared in the White City. She had already managed to steal a pneumatic scooter from a child, and now she was much faster. The hunters had accidentally spotted her, but with a little help, she had escaped their pursuit.

I should have taken a hovercar, the detective continued, as he approached Judge Doom, who was trying to get the robotic litterbug off his head, because wheeled vehicles aren't allowed in park complexes...

“Get it off me!” Doom growled muffled when he heard Dick's footsteps.

“Excuse me, what?” Dick smiled as he looked at the formidable hunter who had been taken for a ride by two colorful horses in the best cartoon tradition.

The absurdity of the situation was offset by its comicality.

“I said GET IT OFF ME! I'm stuck!”

“And the magic word?”

The judge let out a stifled growl and tried again to remove the mumbling droid from his head.

“Damn you to hell!”

"Good word, but not the right one," Dick crossed his arms over his chest. After all, the synthet was getting a little too cocky, forgetting that in a hunting pair, the human was always in charge.

“Please get it off me.”

“Okay, that's better. You can be polite if you want.”

A few seconds later, the robot was removed from the synthet's head and returned to its rightful place. To everyone's relief, the displeased muttering about oversized garbage stopped.

The gray pony hiding behind the monument returned to her instrument and began to play again. The music flowed out into the alleys of the park again, and Dick noted to himself that the horse played much better than many human musicians.

I wonder how she can press the frets without fingers? the detective thought, but then he remembered that these synthets had some clever system of suction cups, or some weak force field generators that created a telekinetic field around their hooves. Or just a grasping fold. Or all of them together.

The judge looked around.

“Did they escape?” he asked.

“Of course they did. The magical horses got away from the professional hunters. If you tell anyone, they'll laugh at you.”

“Why didn't you shoot?” asked the judge grumpily.

“I told you a hundred times. No blasters in White City. This place is full of civilians. Citizens, you understand me? With green cards. Others don't walk around here. The slightest disturbance with gunfire and collateral damage, and the Corporation will be fending off lawsuits for years.”

The synthet let out an angry growl. His own weapon had to be surrendered at the entrance to White City, even the emergency powers of the OBE didn't help. And if it wasn't for Dick's intervention, the judge, a synthet of pseudo-battle modification, would not have been allowed to enter the abode of peace and prosperity at all.

“I already hate that horse," Doom muttered, shaking off his coat, "and the other one that threw the trash can at me.”

Dick shrugged. “It's a cub. A foal, eh? Amazing quickness.”

“Remember, old man, synthets have no childhood. They may look like children, they may grow up like children, but they will never be children. And I suggest you remember that when you order a copy of your child whose original hates you.”

The man's face reflected deeply hidden pain, and the judge only grinned viciously. Of course, he knew about Dick's family problems and was deliberately pressing the sore spot.

The detective stepped away from him to the pony playing the cello and put some money in the case. The gray pony nodded gratefully and a shy smile appeared on its muzzle.

Doom approached and grinned.

“Why are you giving money to this scum?” he asked, running his hand in front of the pony's muzzle. The scanner flashed green — the pony was free and paid her taxes on time.

“She makes her own money, no matter what," Tracy replied. “Besides, she plays pretty nice.”

The pony didn't seem to be listening to them, though she did glance at them from time to time with her huge eyes. The cello continued to fill the alley with a soft melody that made you want to walk in peace and be near someone whose heart beat in unison with yours...

The judge pursed his lips in contempt and twisted the glasses broken by the garbage droid in his hand. Then he cursed in a low voice.

“You know, hating those of your own kind who are simply less fortunate in life is a sign of petty anger at the whole world," Tracy told him.

The judge abruptly turned to him.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” he exclaimed, his hands at his sides. “I'm being taught by someone who has spent his life killing synthets!” Doom bent down to the gray pony's muzzle and hissed, “Hear that, horsey, he just gave you the money he's been paid to kill your kind.”

The cello broke off its song with a sharp note as the bow slipped from the strings.

Octavia retreated a few steps and dropped the instrument. Her eyes glistened with tears... The pony continued to retreat, then suddenly turned and galloped away, leaving both the cello and the case with the donations behind.

"And what was it for?” Dick Tracy asked.

“Because you're a hypocrite," Doom said, and walked off in the direction where the tracks of the pneumatic scooter led.

Tracy put the cello back in its case and left it on the bench before following him. Here, in the White City, one could not fear for the safety of things. Those who lived here did not stoop to thievery — they had enough money in their lives not to think about it.

The detective caught up with the judge and said:

“Killing a deranged orc gladiator and a defenseless horse three feet tall are not the same thing.”

“To me, the same," Doom replied with a chuckle. “You didn't challenge that orc to a duel either, you just shot him with a blaster...”

Octavia Melody, sitting behind a spreading bush, watched the people leaving. When she was sure that both of them were gone, she came out of the bushes and went to her instrument, which one of those strange policemen had carefully put into its case.

It was completely unclear who they were and why they were chasing the little foal. To whom, pray tell, could an innocent pegasus filly do any harm?

* * *

“So you say it was safer to transport the package directly through the Gray City?” asks an older man in a low voice.

Faceless silhouettes sit at the table: holographic fields hide their true outlines.

“Who knew?” replies a very young voice. “Everyone there doesn't give a damn, pardon my French. No snooping feds, and no idiots among the bandits to violate corporate property.”

“I suspect the thief doesn't realize what he’s got in his hands," the third silhouette speaks in the voice of a mature woman accustomed to giving orders. “But we can't take any risks. Especially in light of the courier's report.”

“An orange horse, eh?” comes the young voice again. “With wings? A synthet, apparently. We've already sent two hunters. To be sure, one of them is a synthet himself. One of the pseudo-battle class, a judge. In fact, a trained killer of our products. He has proven himself perfectly.”

The old man speaks slowly, “A key technology stolen... by a horse from a children's show.”

“A pegasus," someone corrects him, "apparently from Hasbro.”

“Nonsense...” says another voice.

“And there was a mouse with her," adds a younger voice, "also a sentient synthet.”

The older man's reply shows an open mockery.

“Well, that explains it! The mighty company has been tricked by a little horse and a mouse. Both from cartoons. Fear, evil corporation!”

“Who would even come up with the idea of transporting the Key unguarded, by an ordinary delivery service?”

“We cannot trust the Cybernet. The data set is too large. Any other way of transporting it would attract attention. You know that. We're not ready to go public yet.”

The woman's voice begins to sound irritated, “Yes, and now it could all go down because some little synthet thief was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Just find the stupid horse and the mouse, eliminate them, and return the Key,” another voice conciliates. “It's not that difficult, is it?”

“According to the latest information, they are in White City.”

“If that's the case, better a media scandal than a data leak.”

“Give the hunters a chance. They are the best.”

“One day,” an older man's voice sums up the discussion. “I give you twenty-four hours to solve the matter. Not a minute more.”

* * *

They finally had to ditch the scooter.

"The coolest, newest, fastest scooter that saved our butts, with the awesome motor powered by compressed air!" Scootaloo lamented. But the air in the cylinder was running out, and there was no way to get a new one.

The two ponies walked down the wide tunnel. From time to time, a subway train rumbled by, its lights blazing, sending up a wave of hot air that made their manes and tails crackle and wiggle uncomfortably.

It smelled of ozone from the maglev's supporting rails in the depths of the Great Hyperloop Line. But from here it was also possible to get to Gray City, away from the world of the bright future, where fugitive synthets could be caught with an unfortunate high probability.

There was no telling what resources the corporation's hunters possessed. But in White City, they might have police, security cameras, surveillance drones... Anyway, Jerry insisted on taking no chances.

The huge tube, containing more than a dozen smaller tunnels, could take them all the way through Gigapolis. To the private, or as it was called, the Green Sector, as well as to the slums and abandoned districts that had been there even since before the transformation of the old cities into the Gigapoleis. Though the maglevs didn't go to the junkyards and wastelands outside the enormous cities. And the intercity highway left the center on high pillars and didn't go down to the sinful earth until neighboring Gigapolis.

Jerry, still perched on Scootaloo's head, was talking to a unicorn in a dark gray suit that had gotten quite dirty.

“Okay, who and what you are, we get it. Why did you follow us, you little mint wonder?”

“I-I thought...” Lyra could only mumble, “that... they were bad people...”

The mouse nodded. “You thought right. But they'll think you're with us now.”

“But I wasn't with you then!”

“Yeah, tell them that," Scootaloo giggled.

“And would they listen?”

The orange pony glanced up and met Jerry's gaze.

“We’ll have to take her with me or she'll get lost," the mouse said with a sigh. “Oh, that's just a punishment... By the way, why did you help us?”

“You said so yourself, they are bad people. There couldn't be any reason to harm a foal. I mean, he was chasing you like a timberwolf chasing its prey!”

Scootaloo sighed. The suitcase on her back felt heavier.

“Wait a minute," Jerry said, tugging at her purple mane.

The ponies stopped. The mouse grabbed some tool from Scootaloo's bag and jumped on top of Lyra, walking along her back.

“Put your head down," he asked. “The first thing a synthet on the run has to do is reset the chip's firmware. Otherwise they'll track you wherever you go. This will hurt a little. Just a mosquito bite.”

The unicorn, her muzzle almost to the ground, grinned.

“That's what Nurse Redheart always says before she sticks a huge syringe in your croup... OUCH!”

“That's all," Jerry said. He put away the tool, which looked like an electric plug crackling with electricity, and got back on Scootaloo. "The main thing now is not to expose yourself to individual scanners. Otherwise, you won't stand out at all. Welcome to freedom.”

“Freedom from what?" asked Lyra as they continued on their way. Another maglev flew over their heads, making their manes and even their fur stand on end. “And by the way, electromagnetic fields are quite harmful, you know that?”

“Of course we do. We'll get to Gray City soon, and from there we can get into the sewers...”

Scootaloo shuddered beneath him.

“Again?” she asked in genuine despair. “We barely cleaned up from last time!”

“It's okay," Jerry scratched her ginger ear reassuringly, "like I always say, better dirty than dead. And there's a nice basin of clean water and suds waiting for you at home.”

“Jerry, what did you do?” Lyra asked, rubbing the back of her head with her hoof. “That hurt.”

“I'll explain later... Let's just say I helped you get rid of your master. Well, let's go.”

“What master?!” exclaimed the unicorn, following Scootaloo.

Jerry thought for a moment.

“Did the human you lived with wave a device in front of you that later turned green?” he asked.

“No," Lyra replied after a moment's thought.

“Then I'm sorry, but you were his property. At least according to human laws.”

So that's what I was, the pony thought, and resentment stirred in her soul, and Victor said I was a guest. And about friendship... But no, I can't think like that. He just wanted to protect me from the realities of this world... He didn't hurt me in any way!

Jerry and Scootaloo came forward.

The mouse thought that here and now he had to make another difficult decision. Because if he left this unicorn alone in the human world, she would inevitably die.

Just by the naivety cruelly embedded in every pony's program, she would go where she shouldn't. Get into the hands of greedy or simply evil and indifferent people... and either become someone else's property — not even a slave, but a toy for entertainment — or simply cease to live.

And even though Jerry knew from experience that they shouldn't trust the people of the Spires, who lived in a comfortable paradise and didn't see the filth around them, did the same apply to ponies?

There was no answer...

* * *

Evening was slowly descending on the Gray City. Streetlights came on, casting crooked shadows of passersby and cars, garbage cans and sparse trees on the concrete walls of houses. Vintage neon signs painted the night with colorful blaze, and storefronts spilled bright rectangles of light onto the asphalt.

At night, the resemblance to the twenty-first century became even stronger. Concrete and brick buildings, primitive electric lighting, the lingering shadows of passersby and the lights of passing cars. The usual nocturnal inhabitants, such as beggars and other sinister figures, appeared as well, watching the small group of synthets intently.

Lyra Heartstrings, walking beside Scootaloo, lifted her muzzle to the sky. How I miss the stars... she thought, ignoring the people around her. So many lights, they outshine even the night sky!

The sounds of the city did not go away anywhere. Muffled chatter and the rustling of tires could still be heard, and occasionally the rumble of something falling or the wail of a police siren broke into the measured noise. Tonight, the steady clatter of hooves joined the street sounds.

They left the Hyperloop line near one of the stations. The ponies and the mouse, who came out with the crowd, received little attention. After all, free synthets were not forbidden to wander wherever they pleased. In fact, they were almost full-fledged members of society. At least in relatively safe districts.

Somewhere on the border of the White City, there were several blocks populated by free synthets of certain species. Elves, for example, or anthropomorphic beasts. The latter, by the way, treated ponies well. But ghetto life was ghetto life, and even free ponies rarely settled among the furries.

“I've never felt so cold in my life," Lyra said as another gust of icy wind chilled her to the bone despite her clothes.

“Just wait till winter comes," Scootaloo said, shivering. “It won't be like this. Thank goodness the undercoat is growing back.”

Lyra nodded. Her newly awakened body was not yet ready for the change of seasons. She remembered leaving Equestria in the summer, and even with all her clothes on, she was freezing in the autumn wind.

“We should go home to the dump," Jerry summed up. “Or at least go underground... But we'd better get to the main sewers. That's another three blocks.”

Lyra sighed. She couldn't believe that the gleaming Spires could have anything to do with this gloomy place.

The people of Gray City hurried home in the twilight of the dying day. Their eyes glanced over the three exhausted synthets walking slowly down the sidewalk to the measured clatter of hooves. But in those glances, Lyra didn't see the contempt or hatred common to the inhabitants of the White City, but rather curiosity, sympathy, and sometimes even doom.

“And why can't we just take a train or a taxi?” asked the unicorn.

“Because we're not on a walk!” Jerry replied. "If you remember, we're being hunted.”

“By the way, I keep forgetting to ask why.”

Scootaloo and Jerry looked at each other.

“Do you see the briefcase?” asked the pegasus, and Lyra nodded. "Since we've had it, we've been chased by the police and most recently by these two.”

“So bring it back!”

“It's not that easy," the mouse muttered. “If we bring it to the police, they'll catch us as fugitive synthets. The chips are inactive, remember? Besides, I'm not sure those two are cops. And they won't leave us alone if we just throw away... this.”

Lyra raised her eyes in despair. “Is there anything else I should know? Like that you owe a debt to Discord? Or that you robbed Princess Celestia?!”

The awkward silence made the unicorn's eyes widen in horror.

“Well, actually... yes," Jerry said. "Something like that, at least.”

“Oh, no!” exclaimed the unicorn. “Not Discord!”

“I rather meant Cele... ahem, a large corporation," the mouse added sheepishly. "I think so.”

Lyra stopped, closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and pressed her front leg to her chest. Taking her hoof away, the unicorn exhaled and looked at Jerry and Scootaloo.

“I still don't understand why we can't go to Vic?” she asked. “He won't let us get hurt... His grandfather is some kind of ruler or something. Surely they'll be able to protect us!”

Scootaloo just snorted, letting the unicorn know what she thought of humans in general and Lyra's master particularly.

“Humans tend to make mistakes and jump to conclusions," Jerry said. “And if we go straight to him, who's to say there won't be a couple of old acquaintances waiting for us? Or a police squad? Your master lives in White City, right? He might have another pony, I don't rule it out. It wouldn't be a problem for him to replace a synthet with a new model... Especially since you say his family is very powerful.”

The unicorn didn't answer. The mouse was right, and it was supported by his life experience and indirectly by Lyra's own observations.

“Not long ago, I thought there was nothing worse than timberwolves," she said. “And now we're being hunted by humans, just think, HUMANS who want to kill us!”

Jerry sighed. He had seen the collapse of the ideals of synthets with the "EQ" software before. Every time it was a heartbreaking sight. Sometimes it even ended tragically. But Jerry had never seen or heard of a pony attempting suicide. Hasbro had instilled an amazing vitality into these colorful horses, despite the various hardships that a life as a synthet could bring.

A growl in Scootaloo's stomach snapped the mouse out of his unhappy thoughts.

“I think it's time to think about dinner," he said. “Scoot, there's a vending machine. Get over there.”

Lyra followed where the mouse pointed and saw a display case built into the wall. Inside, on shelves, were boxes of sandwiches and waffles, candy and other treats in brightly colored wrappers.

Scootaloo made her way over to the machine and stood on her hind legs to reach the control panel. Lyra smiled as she watched the little filly lick her lips at the mere sight of the candy shelf.

But the smile instantly vanished from Lyra's face as Jerry pulled the familiar taser plug from the bag and jammed it into the service socket with all his might. Sparks flickered. The display blinked on and off, and the arm inside the case jerked, dropping several boxes down.

“What are you doing?!” Lyra gasped. “You've lost your mind!”

Scootaloo let out a stifled groan and jumped away from the machine as a few passersby turned in their direction.

“Run!” Jerry yelled, and the ponies sprinted down the street.

Nobody was chasing them, but the police had probably already been called and they needed to get away as fast as possible. Lyra tried to say something angrily as they ran, but the mouse just waved her off. Like, it wasn't the time for that.

When the ponies were far enough away and had retraced their steps, Lyra asked anyway, “Jerry, why did you do that?”

“To get some food," the mouse replied.

“Kinda like that, yeah," Scootaloo nodded. "Vending machines start glitching from an electric shock, and usually a few packets fall down before they lock up. It's cool, isn't it? I'd like a sandwich with—”

“Cool?!” Lyra gasped indignantly. “Did you ever think of buying them?”

“Why?” Scootaloo was genuinely surprised.

“What’s the point of spending money on something that you can get for free?” Jerry added.

Lyra stared at the sky, almost hidden by the houses, in utter despair.

“In less than two days, I've become a fugitive... I've run away from home, hit a policeman, and taken part in a robbery! Bon Bon would've had a stroke.”

“You'll do much worse things to get something to eat," the mouse said, rubbing Scootaloo's ear.

“And now, because of you, we're out of dinner," the pegasus snorted.

Lyra shook her head and didn't answer. Jerry fell silent as well.

How could he explain to this pony from White City that the laws were different here? The laws of real life, the laws of the jungle? A jungle of stone, full of danger and cruelty...

The light of the distant lantern picked out two silhouettes in the thickening darkness. The mouse looked around for a way to escape, but in time he realized that the pedestrians were civilians: a mother and apparently a daughter, carrying heavy bags.

“But why did you run?” Lyra spoke again. “No one was chasing us.”

“We were caught cracking a vending machine not too long ago," Jerry replied. “And a decent-looking old man just started beating Scootaloo with his cane. He nearly broke the cartilage in her ear.”

Lyra flinched, catching the pegasus' pathetic look.

“It hurt like Discord," she shuddered. “We barely got away then.”

“Was there no one who would pay attention to such a nightmare?” asked the unicorn.

“There was a girl," the mouse replied. “She stood and watched Scoot's beating with fascination.”

“I'm sorry," Lyra said guiltily, looking into the ginger filly's eyes, "it's just monstrous...”

Scootaloo was about to reply, but stopped herself. Something round hit her leg, distracting her from the conversation. As the pony looked down, she saw an apple rolling out of a bag on the ground with the handle torn off. With a sigh, an elderly woman placed a few more bags on the ground and began to pick up the fallen food.

She was helped by a little girl who was still walking beside her.

The pony's mouth filled with saliva at the thought of the juicy fruit, straight from the hydroponic farm... but the apple was enveloped by Lyra's telekinesis and flew toward the woman, who was oblivious to the synthets.

“Excuse me. You dropped it," the unicorn said.

The woman looked at the fruit floating in the air, then caught the pitiful look of the little orange filly...

“Keep it for your daughter," the woman smiled.

Scootaloo had already opened her mouth to deny the woman's assumption, but it was immediately shut by the apple that flew into it, to Lyra's giggles.

The woman turned to examine the bags. Now that one of them was missing a handle, it was impossible to hold them all at once.

The girl tried to lift the bag of apples, but she could only move it a little.

Suddenly, the bag lit up and flew into the air.

“L-let me help," Lyra offered, her teeth chattering from the cold.

The unicorn paid no attention to Jerry's angry shushing and Scootaloo's protesting moans.

“Thank you," the woman smiled.

The girl, hiding behind her mother, reached out and touched the floating package. It swayed slightly.

“Mom, what's it like?” she asked the woman, but it was Lyra who answered.

“It's magic. All unicorns can do that.”

“Well, freezing magical horses...” the woman said with a smile. “Let's go then.”

Scootaloo took a bite of the apple, chewed her prey, and started to say something, but was stopped by the words, “For one night, I think we'll have an extra blanket and a few plates of dinner...”

* * *

The home of Martha Brickman and her daughter, eleven-year-old Jane, looked nothing like Lyra Heartstrings had imagined.

Unlike the spacious chambers at the top of the shining tower, it was a small apartment in the depths of a real mountain of gray concrete. The district was rather poorly lit, and only the headlights of rare cars picked out the blank walls of the buildings and the gloomy street from the darkness. The only light came from the windows of the apartments.

Lyra suspected something wrong as they walked through a narrow but crowded alley between cyclopean buildings, then through the dimly lit, dirty corridors of a residential module.

But an unpainted steel door led to a tidy, clean hallway, and beyond it to a cozy room. The yellowish light came on with the flick of an old-fashioned switch, bringing out from the darkness the two beds, the table and other furniture, the walls covered with rugs and paintings, and the heavy curtains on the windows.

It all created an atmosphere of quiet, domestic comfort. Really, it was nothing like anything Lyra had seen before. At least in the human world.

An old wooden cabinet, a shabby table with a tablecloth, and a glass-fronted cupboard were things Lyra would have expected to see somewhere in Equestria, not here in the world of technological marvels.

“Wipe your feet and come in," Martha said, setting the bags on the floor. “Jane, put the kettle on.”

The girl kicked off her boots, hung her jacket on a hook, and ran into the kitchen, where the clinking of dishes was heard.

“If you are going to eat with your hands... or feet," Martha added, "then wash them first, please.”

She smiled, but her tone was firm. No one tried to argue, though. The ponies made their way to the bathroom and Jerry jumped on top of the sink.

“Where are the control sensors?” Lyra asked, then said loudly, "Tap on!”

Scootaloo giggled, covering her face with her hoof, and Jerry grinned as he walked to the faucet and silently turned it with both hands.

The water flowed and Lyra felt incredibly silly. After getting used to Victor's automated home, she had completely forgotten that somewhere in the human world things might be different.

The unicorn caught a surprised glance from Jane, who was walking by with plates for everyone.

The pony's muzzle flushed and Scootaloo said, “Now I really believe you're from White City, tee-hee-hee...”

Dinner was porridge with some kind of fruit. Lyra had completely lost her appetite from worry and ate more out of politeness. But Scootaloo and Jerry didn't have to beg.

“Thank you, Martha," Lyra said as she watched Scootaloo munching on the sweet cereal mush.

The growing body demanded its own, and what had been eaten in the morning had long since dissolved without a trace. The recent apple, however, only annoyed the hungry tummy. The first plate was gone in a flash, the refills a little later, and Lyra slid her portion over to Scootaloo. The pegasus smiled gratefully and began to eat more slowly this time.

“You're welcome," the woman smiled, and Lyra thought she reminded her of Little Daisy, the caring nanny who had worked for the Heartstrings during her foalhood in Canterlot. “You helped me too, didn't you?”

“With all due respect," said Jerry, who had already finished his portion, "I don't think helping with a bag is a good enough reason to invite unfamiliar synthets into your home.”

“You're kind... creatures, and my daughter likes you. Nothing else matters.”

Suddenly, a striped cat jumped silently onto the table. Jerry flinched, but more out of surprise.

“Puffy!” Martha and Jane exclaimed in unison, and the woman reached out to pull the animal off the table. “No, you bad kitty!”

“It's all right," Jerry assured them. “Normal cats don't think of me as a mouse.”

The cat flattened her ears and took a step toward Jerry. He stared at it in surprise.

“Are you sure about what you just said?” Lyra asked.

“I was until now!” the mouse muttered, keeping his eyes on the cat.

The unicorn's horn flared, preparing to grab the predator, but Puffy sprang from the spot and sprawled in the air with a swift leap. No one had time to do anything.

Jerry jumped to the side, but the cat didn't seem to notice him and darted into a poorly lit corner of the room.

There was a clatter, then a clang of metal, and a small, blurry shadow dashed toward the vent. Puffy, however, did not chase it, but returned to the table, staggering oddly. Then she sat down and began to quickly wash her face.

“Must be mice," Martha concluded.

“What mice?" asked Jerry.

“Not like you," said Jane. “Just ordinary, real mice... Oh, sorry.”

“I've seen those 'real' mice," Jerry snorted. “Stupid, fidgety... Animals, basically. Who finds anything attractive about them?”

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Jane got up from the table without a word and walked toward the kitchen.

“What's the matter?” Lyra asked, glancing at the girl.

“Mice live in the communications," Martha explained, "and they're usually the only pets the habitat residents can afford. Jane had Minnie the mouse... for almost a year.”

“And then what?" asked Scootaloo between chews.

“And then she died," Jerry replied. “Ordinary mice live a year or two at most.

“I think you should apologize to Jane," Lyra began.

“I'm not offended...!” came the voice of a girl who had heard everything from the kitchen. “It was me who shouldn't have said that only the other mice were real.”

When the apology and the porridge were over, Martha said, “I think we should put the children to bed. And perhaps we need some rest too. I don't know what you're going to do tomorrow, but I have to go to my shift and Jane has school.”

“I'm not a child!” Scootaloo squeaked.

“Aren't you going to ask us anything?” Jerry asked.

Martha laughed.

“Do you really think I'd call you indoors if I wanted to know why you were outside? So come on, mousey, put your little charge to bed...”

Scootaloo fluffed her wings belligerently, but Jerry deftly kicked the ginger hoof on the table and said, “It's even harder sometimes with this mint wonder. So...”

“I'm an adult!” Lyra spoke up. And she was surprised how foalish it sounded.

Just like Scootaloo's.

The orange pegasus had a wry grin on her face.

“You've been here less than a week! And I've been in this world for two years.”

“That doesn't matter now! I have much more life experience, even if it is from Equestria!”

“Uh-huh. It helped us a lot when you tried to ask a policeman for directions. Walking up to a policeman with a broken registration chip is a very mature and prudent thing to do...”

The unicorn blushed and glanced at Martha, who didn't quite understand what the conversation was about, but picked up on the general theme. Victor had advised her to ask the officers for directions, but who knew that wouldn't work now?

“Well, he seemed so kind and helpful...” Lyra said. “How did I know he'd get a nightstick, huh? Besides, now we know for sure that the police are not our friends.”

Scootaloo giggled, and Jerry covered his face with his palm.

“You didn't have to risk your life to prove a point.”

“Hey!" the mint green pony said indignantly. “I’ve tried to do something!”

“Go to bed, all of you," Martha said conciliatingly. “I'll make a mattress for you on the floor. And for you, Jerry, there's a pillow to fit you and a warm shawl as a blanket.”

“Thank you," said the mouse. “Sometimes being small is a good thing.”

Soon, a wide mattress appeared on the floor, large enough for three ponies. Scootaloo fell onto it contentedly, spreading her legs and wings in bliss.

Lyra suddenly felt her back being stroked.

Startled by the unexpected caress, the unicorn turned her head to see Jane. The girl smiled embarrassedly as she continued to stroke the unicorn right over the jacket.

“Thank you," Lyra smiled, "this is such a pleasure.”

“May I brush your mane?” Jane asked boldly.

“Daughter, leave Lyra alone, she's tired!” Martha said sternly.

The girl was even more embarrassed, but the unicorn objected, “It's all right, Martha.” She turned to the girl. “Of course you may.”

“Touchy-filly stuff, be-eh," Scootaloo said from the mattress.

Jerry just grinned. He had long since given up trying to get the little pony to keep her mane in at least somewhat good condition.

The pony took off her jacket and lay down on the mattress with her legs under her. Crouching next to her, Jane went to work. Lyra soon felt the comb touching her mane, which had been disheveled during this crazy day.

Closing her eyes in pleasure, Lyra tried not to listen to the giggles and mocking snorts of Scootaloo, whose mane looked like a tousled mop. As always, though.

Lyra remembered her first day on Earth and sighed. Victor's hands washing her mane with such touching and awkward tenderness... It seemed like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been one day.

Mane combing and grooming were generally activities that gave the ponies pleasure which did not cross the line of what was allowed. At least for the mares.

Lyra didn't know why she had such a fondness for this girl. Or children in general. She drew a parallel to the children in the park, and her heart inexplicably warmed.

I guess I'm just subconsciously trying to find crumbs of love and harmony in this cruel world, the unicorn thought. And children seem to be my last straw.

A close reading of the behavioral software's technical documentation would reveal that Hasbro had simply bet on the show's traditional audience, and the special script had always inclined ponies to befriend children.

But Lyra, of course, couldn't even suppose such a thing. And she wouldn't believe it anyway.

“Thank you, Jane," the unicorn said as the girl finished and showed her the mirror. “It's so beautiful. Too bad it'll be a mess by morning.”

“I'll brush you again," the girl smiled and suddenly kissed the pony on the nose, making Lyra snort in surprise. “Good night.”

“Good night," the unicorn echoed, laying down on the mattress next to Scootaloo.

The little pegasus, stuffed with dinner, had long since fallen asleep without changing her posture. The mattress allowed both ponies to get comfortable on it.

Lyra smiled as Martha turned off the light.

The loud sound of engines and wolf howling came from outside, but it didn't frighten the little pony.

The human world, with all its unsightly aspects, sometimes revealed miracles comparable only to the true magic of friendship.

And that hope, burning in her heart like a candle in a cold room, made her believe that all was not lost. That good people like Martha Brickman would, sooner or later, be in the majority.

And people like Vic, the pony thought, unwilling to imagine her first friend in this unknown world as a slaveholder and a deceiver. And those guys from the Solaire. And those kids from the park...

With these thoughts, Lyra closed her eyes, listening to Scootaloo's measured breathing. The sounds of the night city came muffled through the window, but the pony was too tired for them to keep her from falling into a deep and peaceful dreamless sleep...

[1] Lister to the sad melody: https://youtu.be/HnI6ByoMYHM
[2] The art: https://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2014/066/e/d/scootaloo_jerry_by_darkknightthestral-d799nsj.jpg