The white and blue behemoth trundled its way down the wide street, the hum of its engines, the swishing of its brushes, and the splashing of its water jets were the only sound in the quiet evening light. Emblazoned on the sides of the massive vehicle was the logo for Abluforte Industries andalong the back of the hopper was the phone number for the company and the model number of the street sweeper, accompanying a message of “How’s my cleaning?”
This particular machine was one of their largest that the company had to offer, the 7000 series was usually in service at airports to maintain the runways, but today it was dispatched to clean up after a particularly festive... festival. There were other Ablufortian cleaning machines around doing various other tasks, but the 7000 was the main hub for the rest, with its extra large capacity hopper and tanks providing a drop off and refill point for the rest of the armada. All the while it cleaned the largest areas diligently.
Though there was one individual that didn’t appreciate the sweeper’s work ethic, pretty understandable considering his current circumstances.
In the belly of 7-314-15-9, aka Big Bertha, was a lone pegasus by the name of Equinox. This particular stallion had been the prized catch of Bertha, and had been trapped for several hours. Or so he believes, kind of hard to tell when you don’t have a clock. Bertha had been trying to sweep him up for the past few weeks and this morning had finally succeeded in sweeping up the pegasus while he was distracted.
Most of the time it would be a piece of cake to escape the hopper, just find the access hatch and leave. Unfortunately for him, this was an older hopper design due for replacement later in the week and while it did have a hatch, the mechanism did not lend itself ease of use by hooves. It also didn’t help him that the emergency lighting was either burned out or covered in enough gunk to render them useless, causing him to spend the entire time in darkness.
The sound of a hatch opening above him as his only warning, having barely enough time to hold his breath, as a deluge of cleaning fluids, trash, and other refuse slopped over his head and ran down his coat. The sticky mud-like muck coated him from head to hoof, weighing him down as a sweeper relieved their full hopper into the 7000, while taking on more fluids to continue their cleaning regiment. The flow of muck, akin to standing under a waterfall with no escape.
The offloading eventually stopped, leaving Nox neck deep in the muck. He squirmed and wriggled trying to dig himself out, something he had done many times. Though this time he couldn’t make any progress, his breath quickening as his panic rose. A buzzer pierced the silence, startling him and causing his head to whip up, and knocking it on the unseen ceiling. Shaking the stars from his vision, he heard the unmistakable sound of the brush motor disengaging and the rush as the sweeper picked up speed as it made its way back to the processing facility to empty its load.
Before long, he could feel the sweeper slow down before the tell-tale sounds of the machine backing up, filling the pegasus with an equal mixture of relief and dread. The sounds stopped, before being replaced with the hissing and clanking of the hopper’s rear hatch opening, his world slowly tipping as Bertha offloaded. Sending the stallion tumbling down into the large trench landing headfirst in the muck, his hindlegs kicking the air uselessly.
Thankfully, after some heaving and pushing, he was able to pry his head free, coughing and sputtering. Finally able to look around the trench, the walls extended far above him. While Bertha, now empty, closed its hopper and drove away, leaving him alone. Warning lights along the pit started to flash along with a buzzer, as a loud ominous kerchunck echoed in the trench, accompanied by a subtle vibration through the floor.
Equinox tried in vain to fly to freedom, but his feathers were clogged and would need a good washing and preening before they’d be flight ready. He tried to scale the walls, but there were no good hoof-holds for purchase, and of course, no emergency ladder in sight. The vibration raised in pitch and the floor started to move, while the seemingly solid wall behind him rumbled forward, making sure nothing would be left behind.
As the contents of the trench were shunted onto the sorting conveyor, sprayers sent a deluge of water and other chemicals over the refuse to rinse off any small particulates that would impede the sorting further down the line. The belt shook violently in order to even out the muck for a much more efficient rinse, shaking was so intense that the stallion could not stay on his hooves and was forced to lay down and ferried with the rest of the rubbish. He opened his wings in an effort to clean them off and possibly escape, but he couldn’t attend to them while going through a personal earthquake and a monsoon.
Once everything was rinsed, and thoroughly rattled, the conveyor dumped it’s contents into a small pit, where hundreds of pincer arms with scanners were sorting the trash into chutes that lead to further processing. Organics lead to composting and bioplastics; metals to the forge to produce more machines for Abluforte to use; glass and plastics were pretty self explanatory. Then there was one that was put to use far more often than some would like, Bycatch.
Nox, still attempting to stand and maybe get onto the nearby maintenance, couldn’t get a firm hoofing as the deep pile was acting more like a ball pit. With a yelp from the pony, a grabber reached down and hoisted him into the air by his tail, leaving him dangling upside down as the laser grid of the scanner splayed over his form. More grabbers approached and started to scan and strip the various bits of trash that clung to him.
Once the trash was removed, the last being some plastic rings from a six-pack wrapped around the base of his wing. He made one last attempt to grab onto the railing of the walkway, but was a hair's breadth away. His hooves, unable to reach around the railing slipped off of the painted metal, as the gripper moved him into the bycatch chute, the darkness yawned beneath him as the grabber held him there, before suddenly letting go and he plunged headfirst down the chute.
He didn’t have to free fall too far before the chute’s floor angled up and became a slide, his soaked hide providing little resistance with the metal floor. Sprayers in the ceiling activated, wetting him down even further and turning it into a soapy water slide as he picked up speed.
The chute eventually evened out, ending his wild ride in a trough of soapy water. After plowing headfirst through several feet of the water buffer, the sudsy stallion came to a stop and picked himself up out of the pool. He sat in the knee high water catching his breath and looking himself over. Underneath the suds, he saw that his usual snowy coat was now stained a mottled brown, making him look like a pinto. Looking up from his self inspection, he couldn’t see a way out other than the way he came. Deciding that someone would come and get him out of here eventually, he swished and scrubbed his wings in the water, hoping to get rid of any lingering taste from the trash before he began preening.
Sprayers activated, interrupting the stallion with water blasting him from all sides. The floor of the trough split down the middle and a large sweeper brush erupted from the water and thrusted the surprised stallion into the air, upsetting his balance and causing him to fall fully onto the bristles. More brushes extended from the walls, scrubbing his sides and legs, while keeping him from being thrown off by the spinning brush attacking his belly. The surprise scrubbing made him flare out his wings, which the machines had no problem taking advantage of by having more brushes pinning his wings into a more scrubbable position.
Two brushes came from the ceiling and planted themselves in the center of his back and moved in opposite directions. One came up his neck and slowly swallowed his muzzle in the swirling fury. While the other made its way to his rump and scrubbed up and down his plot before making its way back towards the middle, where it met up with the other brush and then repeated.
The scrubbing continued for some time, rivulets of brown and green were flushed from the stallion as the brushes scrubbed deep into his coat. Once the water started to run clear, the brushes slowed down, much to Equinox’s relief only for it to turn to horror as the brushes reversed direction, the thick brown water flowing off the stallion once again.
It took six cycles for the water to remain clear and the stallion deemed clean. The sprayers shut off and the brushes slowed for the last time as he was balanced precariously on the undercarriage brush. His whole body tingled with numbness as a gripper reached down and plucked the stallion from his perch and lifted him into the room above. The trapdoor sliding closed as large industrial fans switched on, making Nox do his best windsock impression as he hung limp in the gripper's grasp.
Once dry, more grippers brought over a white Abluforte jumpsuit, custom made with the same refuse that he had been brought in with, and unceremoniously stuffed the stallion into the suit. The thick rubber non-slip soles made it impossible for him to grip anything except the floor, and lacking any wing holes pinning his ruffled feathers tight against his sides. Some mechanical arms, sporting some traditional hair brushes, tackled his mane and tail, forcing them into some state of normalcy.
Finishing off with zipping up the zipper on the back and setting him on his unsteady hooves, the grippers retracted back into the ceiling. As a pre-recorded message apologizing for the incident was interrupted as a hidden door to the chamber slid open with a hiss. Rusty, the diminutive head of Abluforte and Nox’s boss, cheerfully bounced into the room, clapping a rubbery paw on the numb and slightly shaken pegasus’ back.
“So,” he said, taking a sip from his drink. “How was your date with Bertha?”
