It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed.
But not always so. Sometimes it feels guilty. Burning firewood feels nice, but burning cadavers feel wrong, even after the hundredth time.
Still, it’s part of the job. He never really saw the process, just what came in and what came out. A body entered, a pile of ash came out.
And some other things, too. Bones do not burn. They crack and break, and they can’t be processed by the printer. They need to be sorted from the other processable stuff. It’s easy with the sift, but sometimes ponies don’t want their former loved ones to go through sifts, so they took prongs and pick the bone pieces one by one. The cremation took about two hours, the bone-picking took anywhere from six hours to two days. In the end, though, the ash still went through the sift, because sometimes there were the little bits of horse skull that couldn’t be discernible from the white flakes. Those things could jam the printers without mercy. And if it does, the foal being printed would die. A miscarriage. And then the process would need to start over with new materials, either with the backup ashes from donations or with refined carbon bars. The latter costs less, but not everypony wants their child to be born from inorganic ashes.
Donation ashes aren’t always available, though. Sometimes, you have to make do with what’s available. The crematorium ensures quality. No child is inferior just because they were born from a different ink. That also means nopony can tell who was born from what.
The family doesn’t need to know that. Technical issues happen from time to time, and the delay could be anything.
It looked like the family wasn’t planning for a new member too soon, this time. A donation was always nice. He’ll soon help others start a new family.
The stallion hadn’t really led an exciting life. Just a few regular stuff. Still, Pyre loved to read through them. This one had a bucket list. He never got around to bungee jumping. Pretty sad. He should do it sometime, too. Might be fun.
“Pyre? We have a guest.”
Funeral Pyre put the document down. “Coming.”
Pyre’s own bucket list didn’t have “do small talk with the princess” in it, but if it did, it would be struck out right about now. What was she doing here?
“I’m just looking around.”
That wasn’t something princesses usually do, he thought, but then again he wasn’t the princess.
“What is this, Mr. Pyre?”
“This was Iron Wood. May he rest in peace.”
Celestia leaned closer to the uninteresting pile of dust. “It’s cold.”
“His family has been sorting the bones for eight hours. They’ve just left.”
Celestia’s horn brightened, and a whitish lump of something floated out of the pile. “They weren’t thorough.”
“Nopony can,” he said as he recognized that the lump wasn’t bone. “We’ll sort it again later.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
Pyre shrugged. “The printer breaks. The baby breaks.”
Celestia put the lump back. “He was a good pony.”
“You know him, princess?”
“He was a very good friend. He kept good care of my library.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“Are you really?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Working here must be quite an interesting experience.” She leaned closer. “I am curious. When you say those words, do you really mean it?”
“In all honesty, not always. I don’t know everypony. I can’t quite sympathize with ponies I’ve just met.”
“Is it always like that? Or is that only after working here?”
“It gets more mundane by the day.”
“You don’t even sympathize with losing somepony you care about?”
“I never cried at any funeral.”
Celestia leaned back and eyed him curiously. “Can I ask you something, Pyre?”
“It would be an honor.”
“What do you think of death?”
He ran a hoof through his whitened beard. “Inevitable.”
Celestia nodded. “Indeed. Not even for me, it seems.”
Pyre’s eyes popped. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”
“Never better. But I am getting old, and in a few decades I shall retire.” She hummed. “Tell me more, Pyre, about death. What’s it like?”
“I, unfortunately, have never experienced it first hoof. I do know that ponies tend to accept it the closer they are to it.”
“Why do you think so?”
He nodded sideways. “Because it’s inevitable. Like I said.”
“What if it isn’t?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“If you were given a chance to live forever, would you?”
“I don’t think I’d like that,” he answered quickly.
Celestia nodded. “Interesting choice.”
“I had a lot of time to think about it.”
“What are your plans for death?”
“No time soon, hopefully.”
Celestia laughed, and Pyre fell in love with it. “I mean, how would you want your body to be handled?”
“Cremated, reborn. Like most.”
“Isn’t that like immortality, in some way?”
“Not in my mind, no. I just want the crematorium to have as much natural ink as possible at all times.”
“Don’t you have a life outside your job?”
“I do karaoke at times. I play the guitar.” He thought for a moment. “I eat sushi every other weekend and hayburgers every Saturday.” Which probably wasn’t good for his heart.
“An enjoyable life, I’m sure.”
“An enjoyably boring life.”
“How can you be so accepting of your own mortality?” she asked suddenly.
He thought for a while. “I am afraid of the consequences of living such a long life.”
“You can do great things with more than a mere century.”
“Great things aren’t necessarily good things.”
“You can’t have rainbows without a storm.”
“You can with enough money to bribe the weather team.”
Celestia chuckled. “Would you, though?”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Just because I can, I guess? Doing random things are always fun to think about. Doing it is a different matter entirely.”
Celestia chuckled some more, and what followed was a moment of silence as she stared into the ashes.
“Pyre, may I ask you a favor?”
“Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated for this just because I’m the princess, Pyre. So I have two requests, and this is the first.”
Pyre bowed. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
Celestia lit her horn, and a scroll materialized in front of her. “You seem like a good pony, Pyre, and I hope you will be reborn as such.”
“Or better.”
Celestia nodded. “Or better.” She floated the scroll to him. “I am in need of a successor.”
Pyre took the scroll. “You want a child?”
“Not quite. I need a student to take under my wing. Somepony that would grow into a good leader, for all of Equestria.”
He eyed the scroll. “Is this the blueprint?”
“It is.”
“You made it yourself?”
“For the past three centuries.”
“With your DNA stamp?”
“From scratch.”
“I didn’t think such a feat was possible.”
Celestia winked. “I have enough money to bribe the weather team; not that I need to.”
Pyre laughed. “Alright, you got me.” He clutched the scroll. “I will give you the best pony you can ever hope for, Your Highness.”
“Is it alright if I request her to be born from your ashes?”
Pyre stuttered. He lost his voice for several seconds before finally managing to say, “W-well, yes. Sure. But… there are many more ponies out there you can choose from! You can even request her to be made from pure materials to make the perfect child! Er, whoever you want this pony to be! Why me?”
Celestia shrugged. “Just because I can, I guess?”
“I… uh. Um.”
“I want a pony, Pyre. Not a golem.”
“Ah.”
“And I like doing random things. Would that be alright with you?”
“It would be an honor.” He unrolled the scroll and skimmed through the unreadable diagram. For a pony, at least. The printer could read it just fine. “Who would you like to name the pony, Your Highness?”
Celestia tapped her chin. “Something… sunny.”
“Like you?”
“I think it would be easier for the people to adjust to a ruler with a similar theme to their old one.”
“Sun… sunny… sunset?”
“Sunset Shimmer. That would do.”
