The Night is all around us

Steel Rush did not wager himself a clever pony. He was never meant for the stars, so he chose the sparks of the welder. His clouds were the smoke of the flame jet against iron and his choir hitting the metal rivet with a hammer. But it was good enough, and it gave him enough bits for a night ride, so he couldn’t complain; and most of the times he did not.

That day though, something caught his attention. Somepony had taken the time and effort to affix a large poster to the walls of the factory. It depicted a star with wings and the letters ‘BIDE’ in large bold characters beneath.

Steel Rush turned off the welder and pulled up his helmet, drying sweat from his brow. That was new.

“Hey!” he shouted to make his voice reach Clever Hoof, who was busy tying up yet another beam a few meters above. “Hey! Clever!” He shouted again as the din and tin from the worker ponies drowned his calls. At last, his colleague turned down to look at him. He gestured with his hoof at his ear and took out one of his earplug, wincing as the noise rushed towards his brain.

“What’s that?” He shouted pointing at the poster.

Clever Hoof shrugged and shook his head. He put his earplug back in and turned to work.

He scratched the back of his head, where the helmet rested against his neck. Odd. Maybe even odder than the sudden orders from the Princesses to build a mechanical factory of all things in Manehattan of all places. He looked at the poster again. Its edges were already smeared from fumes and oil, the colors muted by the fallout from welding on the upper floors. The growing factory was like a monster of metal and cement and iron and glass, being born out of the work of ants. There was, he guessed, some kind of beauty in making something new. Contributing to something bigger than himself, even if it was just for a hoof-full of bits, that would soon turn into gas for his truck.

But the poster bothered him. It was so out of place. Like someone instructed the workers to put potted plants atop their heads. Bide, he thought.

Biding for what, exactly?

“Steel! We don’t pay you to look at your hooves!” The forepony’s stern voice shook him from his reverie. He pulled his helmet back and turned the flame jet on, showering the metal with more and more sparks. This was his world, after all.

***

That night, when he drove his truck across the countryside that endlessly stretched beyond the suffocating coils of Manehattan, with the growl of the engine reverberating through his teeth, the smell of plastic and gas, he found himself smiling. He turned around a large rock, twisting the rubber and steel of the wheels until they moaned. He laughed – this was life, life beyond the factory, beyond his pointless work, beyond the repetitive din and tin and clink and twang of the monster they were building in the city.

He stopped the truck on the side of a low hill, panting. Horseapples, that was good. He might work himself to death by day, but by night, he was free. Free to ride. He would never own one of those fancy sports car the snooty unicorns in Canterlot drove, but that was besides the point. Polished glass and ceramics did not interest him. The gritty, grimy feel of oil smears, the rumbling engine like he was a Pegasus holding a thunderstorm under control with his two hooves – that was what he lived for. He let his tired body fall against the seat, looking up through the front glass pane at the night above.

He blinked.

The stars seemed especially bright tonight. Brighter and warmer than the sparks against iron. For the first time they seemed to call to him.

He lifted his hoof to reach for them.

It hit the glass.

He blinked again and withdrew his hoof – how silly! He was a grown-up pony, he had to know better by now. His momma back in Appleloosa always used to tell him he ought to find some stability, a good job, a good mare and settle down.

So far, zero out of four.

Not bad.

And yet… the stars kept on shining. Each of them part of something larger than themselves.

Bide, he thought again.

He did not know what for – he was not a clever pony – but hey, it might be for something fun.