Icebox

Chapter 1

Body Language

Why wouldn’t she work? She was supposed to play music.

The small and fairy-like princess mare, posing as if she were on a sound-adorned stage right now, did not twirl or dance for me like she was supposed to. Perhaps this was punishment for trusting in a unicorn’s magic to run the clockwork gears of my invention, and not the science of collaborating parts.

The powerful whoosh of a train’s horn sounded just beyond. The coal-driven, hulking mass parking itself at its earth-bound, snow-infested dock just over yonder. Just near my oaken, decaying bench. I had not the time to look it up and down. My ballerina mare was more important. The simultaneous clunking of a couple of suitcases, however, was enough to draw my eyes.

A suited stallion across from me, carrying suitcases--about four of them--presumably packed with a trio of some foals’ trinkets and clothes, could not seem to overcome gravity’s greedy urges. His consistent “oofs” began to call upon my inner 10-second hero. The dancer beckoned to me, but I let her charm me into forgetting the real world existed enough as is. Duty called. I pocketed the music box.

Approaching him, I asked, “You need any help with those?” He seemed a little reluctant to accept at first, but gave in after a pause for thought and a lick of his lips soon after. Stallion’s pride, I suppose.

The landing site for what was now our luggage wasn’t very far. Just near my actual luggage. Just by a sweet-faced mare with drama masks for a talent mark and the stallion’s now temporarily attentive, triassic triad, staring up at the mare like she were a zealot chosen by the princesses themselves.

“I got 'em from here, ma’am.” The stallion said, setting his bags down and passing a gracious nod my way. “Thanks for watching ‘em.”

“Oh, but of course! Good little colts and fillies like these couldn’t make anypony feel like a true babysitter.” The mare said, almost sounding like she could be a professional voice actor with her pitch-perfect vocal chords. She smiled and gave the colt in the middle a pat on the head, ruffing up his mane. “Behave for me, okay?” It’s almost like her words came equipped with a silent, unspoken happy face emoji.

“We will Ms. Masquerade!” They said in kiddy unison, sounding cute. They each took a share of their father’s load before stumbling off towards the train, talking among themselves while that poor male did his best to keep up.

When she turned to face me, she had the potential to be a supermodel too. I could see her eyes and flowing mane straddled across the cover of edgy fashion magazines all over Equestria. Photo Finish’d be all over that.

But of course it’s the father and his children that get the silent happy face emoji. I get the illusively hidden “stressed out” emoji.

She sighed. “Ya ready baby?” She was trying to sound loving. Sort of.

“Well, I was just trying to see if I could configure the gears on this thing. Been thinking on and observing it for awhile. May have a solution.” I said, adjusting my glasses, feeling the tape piecing them together glide over my muzzle.

She tilted her head, looking to the midsection. “Tinker, we really need to get those replaced sometime....”

“Once I get these things selling,” I held up the other most important mare in my life. “we can get to talking about that.”

“Uh-huh. Excuse me for putting your actual vision first, and not just your fantasies.”

And…. there it was. ¡Silencio! The most awkward form of it. I stowed the music box again and feeling it, my mind drifted on. Some blabbering, feminine noise came from my front somewhere, but it was insignificant.

Could it have been the gearwork itself? What of the spells? Is there some sort of something I can do with the scroll I was given by my colleague?

...By Luna’s silver moon! Just look at the legs on that bench over there! To think I thought that the one I was sitting on was old. Almost looks like… rust? Rust. Always strange how air, such an essential element, helps us organic types with cells and organs, then turns on those that are artificial and non-organic. But then again, I suppose you can’t turn on a non-organ-

“Hey!” The mare protruded my vision and ruined my carefully-knit string of errant ponderings. She didn’t look so patient.

“Yes? In need of something?”

“Well, I was just saying that it might help if we worried about your music box later. The train’s here and we need to get going. Were you listening to me?”

The rust on the bench looked awfully fascinating. “Yes, of course.” I reassured her.

“No you weren’t.” Her words cut right through me. I looked down to her hooves.

“Why would you think that?” I asked her.

She tilted her head, dissecting me like does a surgeon to an unconscious pony with his chest cut open. “Well, you were staring off into space. Again.” She pointed to different parts of my body, demonstrating her ‘evidence’. “You also don’t seem to be facing me. And not once, but twice, you broke eye contact.”

I turned my head off to the right. To the train. The black, mechanical, steam-spewing monstrosity--waiting for it to go “choo choo”. Masquerade looked to it and back to me.

“You ready to board?” She asked. I nodded.

Train was bound to leave any minute, but that didn’t stop another flurry of passengers from trying their earnest to join the party. Was much nicer in the cabin. Comfy, plush booth. Insulation and heat galore. Toasty.

The walkway was nice and crowded. Jam packed. Most of the members of the growing line of cattle that was forming looked discontent and didn’t have much to say beyond the few exchanges between each other to those that presumably weren’t strangers.

Masquerade was staring out the window. Out at the snow-capped plains of Equestria in Winter. Didn’t look all too happy.

I nudged one of my legs against hers, trying to play hoofsies, but didn’t get much of a returning response. A second nudge and she’s pulling it away from me. Might’ve been better just to keep my hooves to myself.

I looked to where she looked. Outside. Frosty. Sparkling. Hearth’s Warming-y. It was serene right now, but you could almost imagine every good occupant of Ponyville jumping out of their houses and hidey-holes to join in on the annual Wrap-Up.

Masquerade turned her head towards the line of ponies, not glancing at me. I did so in turn, mimicking her, and saw the judgemental eyes of some whore with nothing better to do pass over in our direction. My own eyes leapt to Masq, who didn’t seem to be taking it to well.

“Masq?” I asked her. Her eyes darted in the direction of that passing mare behind her, signaling me. I waited before she left our car. “You all right?”

“I’m fine.” She sighed, then stared out at the window again. I felt saliva slink down my throat as I swallowed, then sighed to myself, looking out alongside her--reclining my hind hooves below.