They call me a mad-mare?
Am I?
It certainly seems crazy, or rather insane, to help run such a massive slaughter factory. Who would want to brutally force the broken, weak, and empty to sacrifice their lives and die within the Pegasus Device? What kind of equine does it take to carry out and witness the bloodshed within this facility? After all these years of working underneath the scrutiny of my leadership, am I really use to this place by now?
It seems morbid to think about the fact that I’m numb to the appalling reality of the Rainbow Factory. In my head, it’s not sickening to know and still hear the distinct sound of an ear-piercing scream from every pegasus, young or old, dying here. Yet, it burns in my memory, along with the desperate pleas from those who don’t wish to experience the end of their life. They’re determined to obtain a second chance from us, the guards, as if there was still a sliver of hope for them. However, this is a place where mercy and forgiveness are a foreign concept.
Just like hope, everything dies here either physically or mentally.
All those words are true. My soul and mind disappeared a long time ago. They were washed away from the tears of all those painful outcries. My brain now lays dormant, dwelling within these blood stained walls. It constantly forgets about the idea of love and kindness for others. Why should I attach my emotions to somepony? They’re going to die within this factory. Therefore, why waste precious amounts of time getting to know another pony when they are going to turn around and disappear forever?
It’s pointless now, to make a new friend in this facility. Any sort of relationship, even with a co-worker, was going to turn into something we both would regret since our fates were the same. We’re going to die here sooner or later, and I guess the fear of caring for another pony runs deep within us as well. As for me, I simply try to deny it even exists… compassion.
If it did, then why do ponies still die within this horrible factory? Why continue to support and further along the instrument of demise when ponies have the ability to love and care for each other? What’s the real point to all this mayhem?
I know its not within the fact that all this place does is make colorful rainbows. It isn’t! What can drive a pony to be content with creating a murder machine? What’s the justification for killing another pony for profit? Where do you draw the moral line when it comes to taking the lives of others?
It’s perfectly fine to kill another pony just for their blood? What?! I never understood that sort of justification that I had to come up with myself. When I originally search for some sort of reasoning to this factory, nopony around here could answer my curious questions. When I presented them to the leadership, they would tell me to “shut up” and “get back to work” in the harshest tone they could muster. I should have known better. They will never reveal the reason why they are continuing to run this insanity they call a business.
I guess the idea of keeping ponies like me clueless towards their logic helps the aspect of maintaining peace within the workplace. However, a curious mind like mine can’t be silenced forever. Up there, I know that rainbow mare must be hiding something from the rest of us. Rainbow Dash? That’s her name? Right? Our CEO? Our Leader? Dictator?
Is what she’s hiding so important that not even her own workers can know about it? In fact, what would it be? Is it the fact that we are all caught up inside her master plan to produce something greater than rainbows? Is it the fact that this facility is meant to dispose the worthless and weak? What is she really hiding up there?
What kind of secret would anypony want to protect if it meant having blood constantly on their own hooves? At what great lengths would a pony go to in order to keep her workers silent and at ease? Why even go through the trouble of running a facility of massacre and demise in the first place? Like I said before, there has never been a point to it at all.
There never will be.
So, have I awoken to and realized the madness that surrounds me? Have I solved the mystery of this place with little thought? Is the Rainbow Factory just a place that’s meant to kill the weak at the end of the day? It seems to be so, and I’m not going to settle for that horrible reason anymore. It’s a shallow, heartless ideal that I don’t wish to support. I'm done!
I’ll get out of here one day.
I know I will. My days in this facility are numbered now. I’ll escape and never talk about this place ever again. I want it to die and fade away, like the bloodcurdling screams that still echo in my mind. I want that noise to drown out, along with the hiss and bangs of the factory’s machines. Hearing desperation and metal clashing upon each other as they processed the factory’s signature product, those wonderful, and colorful liquids, is mental torture. It’s what you deserve for dedicating your life to this Tartarus.
Why? Altogether, the sounds I hear create an environment I believe nopony should be used to. No pony should be able to carry on about their work when they hear another innocent life being taken just a few rooms away from them. No pony should have the conative will to just ignore the screams and cries for help and salvation before their bodies are used to produce such a pointless product we call rainbows. No pony should be subjected to listen to those sounds. It’s a song of metal and flesh, a melody of chaos and carnage.
A chilling rhythm of death.
