Author's Note

Sorry for the delay. A war happend in my country. This is the latest thing I'd expected. Now I've dealt with stress and I can continue.

Only one good thing in this war was that PayPal finally fully worked in Ukraine. Yay. So... if you liked my work, you can support me on PayPal: dovaki45@gmail.com

Chapter 3 - The City of Metal

My vision is clearing up. I see the ceiling with peeling plaster. I turn my head and look carefully at where I am, trying to understand what had happened. As I'm looking around, images of horse-like creatures are appearing in my mind. I am one of them. A pony.

I am surrounded by metal medical tables, with syringes, tweezers, bandages, and other medical supplies lying on them.

A hospital. Or what's set up as one. And why am I here?

Falling off the roof...

A sharp pain is echoing through my body. I shudder, realize that most of my body is bandaged. The unfamiliarity of my body sensation quickly makes me aware that horse-like creatures and that I one of them are not a dream. I'm sure of that, because I look under the blanket and see the bandages on my body.

Looks like I don't need them anymore. I am feeling great.

I lay back for a few more minutes, gently moving my limbs, turning from one side to the other. I pull back the blanket; get out of bed, and walking around the room, stretching all four of my limbs. Behind the glass window I see densely packed railroad cars and shacks of all sorts of metal junk. Ponies are occasionally passing between them.

So I'm at least in a peaceful settlement. That's good.

In the corner of my room I spot an old metal cabinet. Look inside I find almost all of my gear, including bloody armor and the cloak with a card pike and the number '21' in the center, pierced in many places.

I need to spend a lot of caps to repair the armor and stitch up the cloak, since I don't have hands. I can't do anything without them. Also... all of my weapons were taken from me, judging by the piece of metal with the number "14" scratched out on it that laying inside cabinet.

In large settlements with walls at the entrance, near the guard post, visitors always deposit weapons and explosives. Some give keys to the locker where they put the guns... others hand out license plates, like my piece of metal. Visitors are allowed to leave mostly edged weapons with them. The guards do this for their own protection.

Still, there's a disadvantage to this system of protection. People with Stealth Boy. They don't need firearms, just a good knife with which to slit someone's throat unnoticed in a dark alley is enough. On the other hand, is impossible to guard from everything, and Stealth Boy are incredibly rare. Nevertheless, there are settlements where Stealth Boys are also seized if they are not for sale, as are many other materials. Caesar's Legion cities and settlements come to my mind with their strictest customs restrictions.

I slam the door shut and climb onto my bed—it's creaking quietly and unpleasantly.

I'm not a prisoner here, not if they left my equipment in my own room, and not under lock and key. At least, I hope not. But how long have I been here? According to the clock and the calendar in Pip-Boy, I am in my fourth day in a place inhabited by ponies whose behavior is no different from humans.

The door to my room is slowly opening. It's creaking as badly as the bed. A hornless pony with a pink mane walks in. She's wearing a yellow robe. She notices me, her light blue eyes expressing surprise.

"Wow, " she says. "I didn't expect you to wake up so soon. Surgery wasn't easy after all."

"Really? What did I look like?"

"Like a sieve."

I can't hold back my giggle.

"How did I end up here? And where am I, anyway?"

"A caravan led by Bluerise brought you in. Right now you're in the hospital in New Appleloosa. Or rather, in the old service quarters at the railroad connection station."

New Appleloosa... It was mentioned more than once by that yellow stallion I had rescued, who was then killed by Sharp. He said he'd bet me a drink for his rescue in this town. I hate when someone died because of me and my mistakes... And now I make an effort to shift my focus to something else because I could reflect on this again.

"Now I understand why I saw so many railroad cars outside the window. Apparently, they serve as housing."

Surprise flashes in the white pony's hornless eyes again. She comes closer to me.

"Have you gotten out of bed and walked over to the window yet?" she asks.

I nod contentedly and enjoy the pony's reaction.

"Your implants are stronger than we thought. No wonder you survived a fall from the roof of a two-story building onto Sharp's spiky armor."

"So what happened to me?"

"The damage was severe. The ponies who brought you in gave you first aid. The usual healing potions and magical bandages only stabilized your condition and stopped the bleeding, but surgery was still needed to set bones and heal deep wounds. The fact that you woke up the day after the surgery is... surprising. You do have powerful implants in you."

The pony in a yellow robe approaches me. She takes to examining me carefully. The astonishment on her face doesn't seem to go away. Her mouth drops open, and she says enthusiastically, "Amazing..."

"Yes, I am," I say with playful conceit.

She suppresses a chuckle.

"I... know that such technology exists, but... I've never seen their effects in person. I've only read in pre-war books." She distracts herself and she's looking at me with eager curiosity. "Where did you get them?"

"Some I bought myself, some were implanted by force... Well, it's a long story. I wonder why you didn't take them out of me. You would have had a great opportunity to earn..."

"We have no reason to ruin our reputations. Besides," she's smiling softly at me, "it wouldn't be polite to do that to someone who got rid of The Porcupines."

I feel a little uncomfortable. I hadn't wanted to get involved in the first place for fear of making things worse. Not to mention the fact that I didn't save everyone.

The pony continues to examine me, removing the bandages at the same time.

"Also, thanks to you, we have new ingredients for potions we can't get around here."

"What do you mean?"

"The caravan you saved brought them. If it weren't for you, we would have had to wait a month or more for the next caravan to take the order. So... in addition to those caravans, you saved potential patients from death. You can be proud of yourself."

I choose to be silent, waiting for the pink-haired pony to take off all the bandages.

"Well, don't be silent. I like to talk to my patients. My name is Candy, what's yours?"

"Daniel."

"Nice to meet you. You have an unusual name. Are you from far away?"

"Yes."

"From where?"

"West."

"Oh... Is that where the herds of various religious fanatics live?"

Thinking back to what Bluerise said, I mumble an uncertain 'yep'.

"I can understand why you got out of there... Oh, your condition is wonderful! You can be discharged."

"I am extremely grateful for your treatment."

"That's my job. And treating those who have given so much help to New Appleloosa is also a pleasure!"

I can't hold back a smile. She's nice.

"I wanted to ask..."

"Yes?" she's looking at me curiously. Her lovely light blue eyes are looking at me intently, which made me forget what I wanted to ask.

"Um... I..."

"What, you want to ask me out?" she bits her lip seductively. For the second time in less than a minute, I'm confused.

What the fuck?!

Okay, Daniel, focus. She doesn't know I'm not a true pony. To her, I'm just a normal stallion. Maybe she's joking and she's trying to get back at me for my joke comment at the beginning. Apparently, she's been asked out more than once by her patients.

I'm completely naked, we're obscenely close to each other, and it puts pressure on my... lust, which is reflected in my behavior. First the wet Bluerise, and now this. My prolonged lack of intimacy and female company is taking its toll.

But these aren't people! They're ponies! How can I even think about it?!

"I never really thought about it."

"Really? Well, your embarrassment told me that you wanted... Well, I guess I was wrong. I wouldn't mind having dinner with someone after my shift, someone from afar. Especially from Hoofland. That's where a lot of interesting tales and stories come from."

"I... I'm not much of a talker, anyway," I lie.

I don't want to talk about a place I haven't even been to yet. And I don't want to reveal my origins. That would only make it more interesting for her.

"Candy... aren't there any more stallions in town that you're interested in?"

"Not anymore."

"Why?"

"There was one ginger pegasus... Calamity. He left with a young mare. Also distinguished herself by helping the city."

Pegasus? What kind of pony is that?

"Well, did you try to ask him out?"

"Try to catch him first," she laughs. "He's a free bird. I've offered to take him out to dinner more than once, but he refused."

"Why?" I ask.

A free bird... I get the impression that the expression was chosen for a reason. It's a common way of referring to the female... and not about men. They say, for example, "lone wolf".

"He says he doesn't want to make connections with anyone in New Appleloosa. Sometimes there was an unpleasantness in his voice."

I wonder... why didn't he like that town? Did he know some terrible secret about it? If that's the case, I should stay away and be more careful.

"That's why I even once thought I should move from this town to another. And then show up here as a guest to ask him out." She laughs again. She has a nice laugh. I almost regret refusing to have dinner with her. I would still enjoy that laugh again.

"What's the reason he doesn't want to be related to anyone in this town?"

"As far as I know, he's pretty principled. He's allergic to slavery."

"The city trades slaves?"

I easily keep my dislike of the slave trade to Candy. I am used to the slave trade as a phenomenon, but I am still uncomfortable in places where it is allowed.

"No. We just trade with slave traders from Old Appleloosa. That's probably why he doesn't trust the people of New Appleloosa. You know, I'm beginning to doubt that you don't like to talk."

Oh... There's obviously something wrong with me, since I've so easily begun to behave contrary to my legend. Or she's nice, particularly her charming laugh. I've got to get out of this.

"I don't like talking to anyone. Just being careful."

"Even with those who cured you and could take apart not only your organs but your implants?" she's smirking slyly.

She has a good mind. She's smart. I like those kind of people... pony. I'm even more sorry I'm turning down a date... Okay, Daniel. No pony dates. We're not from here, and we're not a pony either. You'll do something stupid.

"Let's face it, I like you," I say. She's smiling modestly. "But, alas, I have too much to do. Speaking of business... I remembered what I wanted to ask."

"And what's that?"

"Where are my weapons? Who's in charge of fixing armor? And, if I were to ask you to dinner, where to? I'm terribly hungry."

***

After getting the answers and instructions, I pick up my gear, say goodbye to Candy and the hospital staff, and go outside. Naked. Quite unaccustomed. Passersby don't stare at me. The multicolored ponies are walking their way without a glance at me. Most of them are wearing almost no clothes. Their fur protects them from the faint cold. They have a body structure that allows them to walk around unclothed, with their crotches hidden beneath their tails. It is only the stallions that are unlucky—if anything happens, their erection will be visible a mile away, like a raised white flag.

From this circumstance, for me it's best not to think about wet bodies while naked.

My stomach erupts again with a hungry rumbling. Hush, my beast. I remember when you almost went crazy at the sight of a brahmin roasting at Porcupine's. We'll have some well-cooked brahmin here... just got to get there. Be patient.

I take a walking gait to a place called 'Big Carrot'. The biggest dining spot in the town.

The fixed gear dangles from my back, swaying muffled from side to side. The ground beneath my hooves is hard, and around me the neatly arranged boxcars stand in rows, most mounted on top of each other. Steps of scrap metal lead to the second and third floors. The bases of the boxcars are covered with rubble so that they won't sag into the ground when it softens during the rains. Poles with hanging wires stretch to all the wagons and shacks.

Electricity is wired into every house. A centralized system. A rarity in the Wasteland.

In the distance, lazily spinning wind turbines loom behind the wagon towers. The question of the source of electricity vanished by itself. However, there are such windmills almost everywhere.

I wander between the rows of freight and passenger cars like a tumbleweed for about ten minutes, pondering life in the Wasteland, and I finally find a signpost. It stands in the middle of the road and is an array of painted railroad signs that says what and in what direction. I pause and begin to read.

Hmm... The Turnpike Tavern... 'Absolutely Everything'... which I intend to visit after a satisfying lunch. The hospital... The main gate... The railway station... 'The White Thread'... the sewing master, as I understand it... And all sorts of other craftsmen... or craftspony.

As expected... not a word about the guns anywhere. Such information is withheld, but everyone already knows where it is sold. Usually the places where guns are sold or bought are in the same place as the guards' barracks. They are kept under close supervision so that it is clear who needs weapons or explosives to keep a better eye on them by the guards of the city. They don't sell weapons to strangers unless you're trustworthy. That's where all my firearms are, according to Candy.

Uh... What was I looking for?

My stomach rumbles irritably.

Oh, right.

Let's continue... Oh, here it is. 'Big Carrot'... is on the east side of the Main Gate.

My attention is drawn to the signpost by a passing earth pony. She gives me a leering look. She turns away as our gazes crossed, and with a sullen expression moves on.

The natives' natural suspicion of strangers. Again the similarities between the behavior of humans and ponies. I find myself in an interesting place on Earth... I must move on, so as not to attract too much attention.

I come out to a large square filled with tables and furniture made of all sorts of junk, some of it red, time-worn seats and beds ripped from passenger railroad cars. Most of the tables are empty. Residents of the city have long since eaten breakfast, and lunch is not yet on the clock.

The food is arranged in open metal containers along several tables. They are covered by a glass display case. The containers are filled with food, brought from the kitchen by Earth ponies in food-soaked aprons. Preparing the food for dinner, I understand. The containers are covered with a lid to protect them from the pesky insects that are regulars in such places.

I inhale deeply. A mixture of the smells of the various dishes wafts through my nostrils with tickle. My stomach feels like a magnet reaching for those tables.

I walk past the empty tables and approach the diner worker. I feel pity for this cream-colored earth pony for her tired look. Without any enthusiasm, she looks at me expectantly. I stare at the list of dishes, feeling that I am about to pounce on these containers like a madman. The work of the implants, especially the regenerating one, is incredibly debilitating and draining. I need to choose something calorie-dense.

Meat from predators, animals, mutants, birds. It's boiled, fried, baked, cured. It makes me unusually happy that meat eating is considered normal for ponies. Yes, Porcupines ate meat, but they may have done so for lack of food, whereas this kind of meat eating is not natural. There are plenty of vegetable dishes in the canteen, too. Most of the names are unknown to me. The floral names of the dishes on the list aren't figurative. I'm surprise, because I see the dishes with floral plants. There is even hay! What strange things these ponies are... like real horses.

"Are you planning to choose something?" the cream pony says impatiently, with a tired look in her eyes, snapping me out of my musings.

"Um..." I stretch out, feeling like a foolish ignoramus. Mostly among the familiar things here is only brahmin meat cooked in various ways. "I'd like something with brahmin meat, please... and something as hearty and nutritious as possible!"

The creamy, apron-clad mare begins serving up chunks of roast meat with tomato sauce and mashed potatoes on a large plate. It is curious to see how she handles the cooking utensils with her mouth. I couldn't have done that. Not without training and practice, at least.

She moves plate with food closer to me.

"That'll be eighteen caps."

"And a glass, please."

"Purified water? Diluted carrot juice? Or..."

"Nah," I interrupt politely, lifting my front leg, "empty."

Surprise flashes across the cream mare's face, but she complies with my request.

I grasp the bag of caps with my teeth and toss it to her on the table.

"Count it down, please."

She dolefully rolls her eyes, saying, why I can't, but begin to count the caps. Meanwhile, I look helplessly at my front legs: I have no idea how I'll carry a plate of food and a glass at the same time. Only one object can fit in my mouth. Without thinking long, I tilt my head and prod the glass with my horn to put it on. It works with difficulty.

The mare counts out the necessary amount and returns the pouch. She notices the glass on my swirled horn with bewilderment. I see from the tense corners of her lips and cheeks that she is holding back a smile.

It's embarrassing. On the other hand, I've... at least brightened her day somehow.

She nods to the side, pointing to flat planks and old trays where I can put everything and take it to the table.

Now I feel silly.

I pick up the caps, walk over to the tray table, tilt my head and lower a glass onto it. Gently grab it with my teeth, bring it to my plate, set it down on it, and go looking for a place where I can get my ass warmed.

Looking out for a table with an adorable view, I notice a familiar purple unicorn leaning over a bottle of beer. Sitting next to her is the same brown colt who screamed at the touch. He's sitting with a dejected face over an empty plate. Without a moment's hesitation, I move in their direction.

"Enwoy youf meaf," I say.

"Oh..." she stretches out and looks up at me. "Who...?"

"May I foin you?"

Bluerise's absent-minded gaze narrows on me.

"Oh, hi. Glad you're... better. Yeah, better."

I nod at the empty seat next to the unicorn.

"Do you want to sit down? Yes... you can..."

Putting a tray of food and a glass on the table, I sit down in the red shabby seat from the passenger railroad car. The purple pony pulls away from me slightly. The brown colt with the yellow mane treats me as if I'm not even here, lost in thoughts. Poor little pony... And I don't even know his name.

"What is your name?"

Silence is his answer. But Bluerise decides to answer for him.

"Rusty. That's what he said when doctors are examining him."

"What are they say about his condition?"

"His health is now fine. What cannot be said about his mental health."

My stomach is rumbling unbearably.

"And how do you feel?" I ask Bluerise, grabbing a piece of roasted meat with my teeth. Thoroughly savoring and enjoying the moment, I swallow it and sigh blissfully. I drown the next piece in the tomato sauce. Using one mouthful is awfully uncomfortable, but I am too hungry to look for other options.

Bluerise is silent. Her light pink mane hangs back over the bottle of alcohol. And then she speaks up.

"The doctors said that... I'll be fine. Nothing serious is happened to me."

"That's good to hear," I say, after chewing on my third piece of meat already. It's hard to show sympathy when I'm hungry. Still, her tone isn't encouraging. "And yet you feel like shit..." I nod toward the bottle of beer.

She throws a quick glance at me and then sinks back down to the bottle. Her horn glints, an amber glow enveloping the bottle, and she takes a sip of alcohol.

"I thought then that now the rest of my life would be like this... When the raiders get tired of playing with me... They would resell me further... and then further... and so on for the rest of my life... At best, they'll put a bullet in my head."

I look away from my meal. I take out a device that condenses moisture from the air, put a glass under the tube and turn it on. Crystal clear water pours into the glass. I turn to Bluerise.

"But that didn't happen. What do you worry, then?"

A pause. I wait patiently for something from her side. The glass fills to the brim with water. I turn off the device, grab the glass with my two front legs, and sip half of it.

"Heaviness."

"What kind?" I ask, setting the glass half full.

"I don't know... It's a combination. Shame, fear, anger, despair... That the rest of my life would consist only of this kind of humiliation. A plaything to satisfy others... no more, until I am disfigured and killed."

"What can I... Uh... Is there anything I can do for you now?" I extend my hoof to her with the inside up. She slowly turns her head toward it. A long, thoughtful look. Obviously, she herself doesn't know what will help her right now. Depends on what she's experiencing most.

No response to my gesture.

Well... I tried.

She moves just as I am about to remove my front leg. Her purple foreleg hesitantly reaches for my beige hoof. Gently she touches me, our hooves join together. Her amber eyes lift to me. A sad and ingratiating look. She hopes to discern an answer in my eyes. I think hard about her words and try to find words that might help her.

"Life," I begin, "is changeable, fickle. Yesterday you are a prisoner of raiders, today you enjoy the most exotic dishes, and tomorrow you meet the love of your life. In the darkest of times, think of them as passing. Dark times will pass even faster if you make the effort to change. Wait, be patient, look for opportunities... and take action. Yes, I understand how hard it is to keep your spirits up, but the rewards will be great."

Her amber eyes brighten, and then sink into thought. I decide to add, "You're a beautiful and kind pony. I would like to see your future achievements as a merchant. Maybe you'll start your own big caravan company, and use it to change the whole Wasteland. There are many possibilities. Think about it, but just don't give up."

The purple pony is silent for a while, lowering her gaze. She returns it, the shadow of a grateful smile looming on her lips.

"I'll try..."

I smile slightly and nod.

"And don't forget to ask others for help. Don't be alone with this."

Bluerise is looking in my eyes. Her gaze drifts down to our hooves, a faint smile again on her lips. She put her hoof away and turns to the bottle.

The Wasteland is brutal... Almost everyone is physically or sexually abused. Everyone takes the experience differently. Almost everyone is resigned to the circumstances. I don't like to get involved in other people's lives and become responsible for them, at the same time I can't stand by and not help for long. Conflict.

I look at Bluerise.

What would have happened to her if I hadn't intervened?

My gaze shifts to the brown colt with the lost look.

Or with him?

What would their lives have been like? Would they have tried to make a difference if I had stayed away?

Our lives are in our hands... or hooves. I wish I could inspire more people... ponies... that they can change their bleak lives if they learn not to give up. Then I wouldn't have to get involved, but it all sounds too good to be true. Those two would probably give up and break down. And I wouldn't blame them for that, because it's common—the vast majority sooner or later get tired of struggling.

I finish my meal and take another. As I ate it and drank another glass of water, I notice that Bluerise is behaving a little more freely. I don't know what had influenced her more, the alcohol or my words about the impermanence of life? Probably both, as she leans against me and hugging my front leg.

"If it weren't for you, the nightmare wouldn't have ended so quickly..." she says in a muffled voice over her tongue sluggish from the alcohol and hugs me even tighter.

We sat in silence until she talked about my device that condenses moisture from the air. She questioned me about it, openly marveled and admired what she heard... largely because of her drunken state. The silent Rusty paid us occasional attention, peering at the device with a little interest.

After I answered all of the purple saleswoman's questions, she gives her final opinion while her mouth is reeking of alcohol, "A delightful thing... It's worth stealing... And the Steelheads won't steal it, as usual... they'll just take it from you..."

What the Steelheads? I get the hint, though. I've forgotten about caution. It's better not to flash that kind of technology around in public.

***

Bluerise pressed tighter and tighter against me, rubbing her nose against my leg, giving me a slight tickle. I didn't know how such... intimate social behavior was considered among ponies, but something told me I'd better go about my business.

Which I do. I'm going to Ditzy Doo's.

She is the biggest trader in town. She has seen a lot of interesting things in two hundred years, met hundreds of ponies. She is also a ghoul. That's what Candy told me about her. Ditzy has made a lot of connections, especially with other merchants and caravans. Such connections have allowed her to become extremely effective at trading. She can get her hands... hooves on almost anything.

This, however, is the state of affairs of many of the city's merchants.

In addition to trading, she fixes things, which, in turn, is extremely useful in the Wasteland. Those with knowledge of technology or weapons will not be poor. Even a slave with such knowledge will have a better life than an uneducated free roamer or wastelander. I learned this the hard way, in the Capital Wasteland, when I didn't know how to stand up for myself and knew little about life on the surface. I haven't been a slave since, except when I broke into Pitt.

With my engineering and repairing skills, I was not lost.

I've made my way to the Absolutely Everything store. This imposing store consisted of many boxcars that are safely connected to each other. The central wagon serves as the entrance, with a metal gangway running to its side retractable door. Nearby is an empty wagon. Not far away is walking an earth pony in dark green battle armor with the same device and firearm on its back that I've seen on one of the Porcupines. I've already forgotten his name... but I remember that he was eager to have fun with Bluerise and do something to her face.

The familiar orange earth pony comes out of the store and walks toward the empty cart. When she saw me, Juice waves at me with a demure smile.

"Daniel!"

I respond with a welcoming smile and walk over to her. The orange pony in the light work overalls gives me an appraising look.

"Did you get discharged that fast already?"

"Yeah."

"To shrivel me up in the desert..." Juice says with a gasp. "I saw you yesterday."

"I know how to surprise."

"Yeah... you do."

"What are you doing here?"

"Work," she glances briefly at the empty cart. "Delivering goods Ditzy Doo ordered, like spell books, rare tools, that sort of thing."

Spell books? What are they? Sounds interesting. Since they are ordered and spend a lot of caps on them, they must be considered rare and useful. Need to know their purpose. It will come in handy for understanding the place I find myself in.

I find myself staring at her jumpsuit for a few seconds while I thought about it.

As far as I remember, she's had strong protective armor. Where has it gone?

"Where is your armor?"

"And why would I need it in a secure city where guns are turned in at the door?"

She glances at the pony in combat armor on patrol. I've noticed the guard hasn't strayed far from the store. There are always guards around important places like stores, in cities and towns.

"The protection here is solid, if you ask me."

We are looking at the armed guard.

"Indeed..." I say.

"On the whole, it's better to appear harmless. If you attempt a robbery, you have a better chance of being left alive, because they won't consider you a threat. If the robbers see you can fight back, they'll cut you down right away."

"That makes sense."

The orange earth pony turns to me.

"Okay. I won't interrupt." Her sympathetic gaze goes over my gear. "I take it you have things to do. Your armor needs fixing."

Juice hooks the cart behind her and walks slowly. The wheel axle groans and creaks. I hear the pony begin to mutter regarding these «pleasant and affectionate» sounds.

"Discordish damn thing."

***

I stare at the plaque. It has the words 'Welcome!' written on it in chalk. My surprise gaze goes back to the yellow slanting eyes of the pony holding it in his teeth.

"Hello..." I say, feeling perplexed about the plank. "I assume... you're Ditzy Doo?"

She nods vigorously, and the rest of her yellow mane ripples in unison. The smile is causing me to have mixed feelings. I redirect my thoughts to the fact that this is the way she communicates. Perhaps she is mute?

"I hope this doesn't sound rude. But it's important for me to know so there won't be any awkward situations in the future... Can you talk?"

The pony with the remnants of gray fur releases the plank and puts it on her hoof, and unashamedly opens her mouth wide. To my surprise, there is almost no familiar bad breath. Though the rest of my body faintly reeks of foul odor.

I can't help wondering how she was able to become a successful merchant in the presence of the constant smell of decay. For this reason, and not just because of her decaying appearance, ghouls rarely become merchants among non-ghouls.

On reflection, I come back to why the pony ghoul shows me own mouth. It is missing a tongue.

"You have..."

She erases the writing on the plaque, takes the chalk in her mouth, and writes the following: 'Raiders cut it out'.

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

I wait while she erases the previous writing and writes a new one: 'On the plus side, I learned how to write'.

"Wow..." I say, feeling admiration for her optimistic approach. Here's someone who truly hasn't fallen off the wagon. "That's impressive. You are good. I've rarely seen such positivity in the Wasteland, to take something positive out of an obviously shitty situation."

The gray pony's smile grows even wider. The sight of a smiling ghoul is also a rare sight.

"So..." I mutter as I slip my armor, cloak, and punctured backpack off my shoulders. "It all needs to be repaired and stitched up."

She squints her yellow slanted eyes and scrutinizes my items in their sorry state. Or rather, only one of her eyes is scrutinizing, the other is looking away. At one point her eyes open wide, and then she looks up at me. One eye stares at me in wonder. A moment, and she picks up a plaque where she writes: 'Is your name Daniel?'

"How do you know me?"

'Juice told me.'

I feel uncomfortable. The damage to my gear unequivocally refers to the fact that I had landed on sharp metal spikes. Given recent events, it's no wonder she guesses who I am. Once again, my actions have been noticed. I just hope it doesn't lead to any appreciably bad consequences.

"I was just passing by and... Well, yes. Did Porcupines give you much trouble?"

Ditzy Doo takes on a sad look and nods. The remaining curls of her yellow mane bobs lightly with her head.

'I'll fix your armor for free.'

"But..."

She puts her hoof to my lips, silencing me. The chalk slides muffledly across the plank.

'Thanks to you, pony lives are saved. Her orders, too.'

Not all ponies are saved... I decide not to talk about it, however. I already know roughly what she will say to my doubts. I don't want to argue and spoil the nerves of myself and others.

"Are you really going to do it?"

She nods vigorously, and then writes something on the board again.

'You remind me of the pony. You did what she did for me recently.'

"Are you saying this is important to you?"

The gray mare nods so confidently and forcefully that she can smash through a wooden wall with her forehead.

"Thank you very much. You're generous."

'It will take the rest of the day to fix. And maybe even tomorrow.'

"Well... then can I walk around and have a look around and then go?"

Nodding affirmatively again.

The store is spacious on the inside. I think it's made up of at least a dozen wagons. At least the first floor. Their walls, which happen to be inside the melded structure, have been torn down and cleared for space. I haven't gone up to the second floor, but I believe it serves as Ditzy Doo's living quarters.

Shelves and racks of scrap metal are littered with various pre-war junk. A lot of the stuff is barely familiar to me, and the purpose of the rest is completely unclear to me. Quite a number of devices and hand-made items, made from various junk. I examine them with interest, trying to understand their purpose. It's even a bit of fun.

"I came..." the mare's timid young voice says behind me, "...for StealthBuck. Has he been brought in yet? I heard that a caravan had recently arrived in town..."

This is the StealthBuck that Sharp used to take us all by surprise. I can't help but look at the one who ordered it.

I glance without much interest at the source of the quiet voice. It's a young, judging by its size, earth pony with lavender fur. She stands uncertainly in front of Ditzy Doo. When the gray pony-ghoul nodded, the small pony smiles embarrassedly.

A few moments later, the ordered item is in front of her eyes.

"That's wonderful. So... I've already paid the advance, now here's the rest."

She turns to her bag and takes out two boxes. They jingle as she sets them on the floor.

"It's all there."

Based on the size of these boxes, there are at least two thousand caps. The gray pony grabs the boxes, brings them to the scale, opens them, and pours out the contents. The caps jingle sweetly, dropping onto the tray. The arrow moves to the side and stops at a mark I can't see.

The sight of Ditzy Doo's nodding head indicates her satisfaction with the amount.

And here, among the ponies, large amounts of caps are weighed, not counted. Merchants sometimes end up undercounting ten or twenty caps, but with large sums this is an acceptable margin of error. However, the exchange of caps in such quantities is in itself a rare occurrence. Some goods are exchanged for others, and the conditional prices are compensated with the caps.

An impressive number of caps... This young mare must be from some rich family, since she exchanges expensive goods for just caps.

The young pony thanks Ditzy Doo, takes the two emptied boxes, and left the store, casting her unsure look at me. The shopkeeper goes off with the caps, and returns with an empty tray, which she puts back on the scale. She sits down at her workstation with its incredibly functional devices and continues fiddling with the armor.

I appreciate it. Even power armor can be repaired with these tools and capabilities. The gray pony thanks me for that compliment.

My look around continues. A lot of pre-war clocks, some of them working and showing the same time... The strange thing is that they have thirteen numbers or divisions instead of the standard twelve. So somehow they don't count off the twenty-four hours of the day here, but... twenty-six? I take a look at my Pip-Boy and it shows a completely different time than what's on the clock.

"Um... does this watch show the correct time?" I ask loudly.

The gray ghoul-pony turns to me and, without taking the sewing device out of her mouth, nods confidently.

Has my Pip-Boy's chronometer gone off? The connection with the satellite had been lost before, and now it appears to be telling the time incorrectly? But... I'm halfway around the world. It's a different time zone... Yes... Surprisingly, I still remember this nuance. Nevertheless, that doesn't explain the extra two hours. At all points on Earth, time should go the same way. The speed of rotation is the same.

The time-worn calendar... Twelve months, all twenty-eight days. Three hundred and thirty-six days a year?

First the clock... and now the calendar confuses me. I am not even particularly surprised by the names. The seven days of the week, with names corresponding to the seven colors of the rainbow: Redday, Orangeday, Yellowday, Greenday, Cyanday, Blueday, Violetday.

"Ditzy... What day and month is it today?" I ask in amazement. There is a knock, which bring me out of my reverie. I turn to it and remember that Ditzy Doo doesn't know how to talk. She nods at the wall in front of her workstation. There hung a cleaner calendar with a movable bookmark that is now at...

22nd Linden, Redday.

Each month is perfect in terms of the number of days of the week. There are exactly four weeks in each month.

The month of Linden... judging by the style of the letters, is the second month of summer. The first is Field, and the third is Bread.

My Pip-Boy shows that it's the fourth of August, the eighth month.

I stare at the calendar, trying to understand the local chronological system. Winter includes Wind, Oak, and Pearl. Spring includes Earth, Flower, and Grass, and Fall includes Heather, Rain, and Leaf.

What the hell is going on here?!

Like a madman, I looking for a map or a globe. The first thing I find is a map. It is hanging on the wall behind some junk, so I couldn't see it right away. I gently pull the goods aside and look at a continent I've never seen before.

'Map of Equestria'

What's an Equestria? It takes up quite a bit of space... More than half of it resembles South America—elongated, convex in the center, gradually narrowing toward the south and stretching into a tail of islands. The central part is the least populated, judging by the presence of cities, and it's also rocky, with deserts and such. My shock gaze is caught by the name 'Hoofland', and then by 'Appleloosa'... just Appleloosa, without 'Old' or 'New'». Nearby for sale are lying post-war drawn maps of the Wasteland with caravan routes and settlements, some marked with danger zones.

What the...

My mind reels with all sorts of assumptions and hypotheses about what I've been seeing. Nevertheless, I am not able to think clearly, so I continue looking for more... And find the globe.

Everything is falling into place. The continents on the globe are not familiar to me at all. It's definitely not Earth... Some two continents, Eclipse and Solstice.

I'm not on my home planet... I... I... have no idea...

All sorts of emotions come over me in huge waves, beating against the walls of my mind. I stare in shock at a globe with two continents unfamiliar to me. My shock reaches its peak, the strangeness I've encountered jigsaw puzzle together into a single picture. The new and unknown kind of creatures, the calendar, the division of thirteen hours on the clock, the mystical properties of unicorns, the transformation into one of them... I try in every possible way to avoid such a conclusion, my mind desperately searching for an adequate justification for what has been happening. But all of them do not go beyond hypotheses and suppositions. Only one conclusion has the most plausible outcome.

I'm in another world...

For about half an hour, which last like an eternity, I've stared at the globe in utter shock. I try to cling to something comforting and soothing, but nothing comes to mind. My mind is bursting with bubbling thoughts and emotions. I need to clear my head... I cannot... it's beyond my comprehension.

I struggle to get up on my four legs and walk out of the store. I stare blankly into the gray cloud-cloaked sky. I hear growing thunder. It might start raining soon. My mind has been wandering, lost as to what I should do next. A distracted glance falls downward. It is getting darker outside, and the lights and bulbs begin to turn on and illuminate the rows of freight and passenger railroad cars.

My aimlessly wandering eyes catch a signpost with local landmarks that I've already knew existed. Only one name catches my eye: The Turnpike Tavern.

***

A favorite spot of all travelers and caravans at all times. The bar is adorned with a huge floodlit sign made of metal sheeting and paint: 'The Turnpike Tavern'. It resembles an Absolutely Everything store in its structure. With two dozen cars connected together, the walls that ended up inside the structure were torn down. All the furniture is seats and tables dismantled and taken out of the passenger cars. The space is filled to overflowing with visitors, of whom there are at least a hundred. The bar is occupied by carefree laughter, casual and easy conversation, the clinking of mugs and glasses... In the midst of all this, I can barely hear the music pouring out of the old jukebox that has speakers set up all over the bar.

These are the best places in the Wasteland. They reek of fun and excitement. They attract the people of the Wasteland like a bloatfly attract a pile of shit. A respite from the eternal struggle to survive in this harsh and merciless world.

No one pays any attention to my coming. And I am absorbed in my own turmoil, to pay attention to what the locals and travelers are talking about. All the tables and seats are occupied. Those who didn't have enough seats are standing near the tables and laughing casually.

There's my body at the bar. And there are all the seats taken, some of them already drunk and passed out right at the table. I stand there with an indifferent look on my face, staring at the local bartender... or barpony, whatever... is trying to please all the customers with his assortment of drinks. Young mares and stallions are serving drinks to the customers. They, in turn, make offensive comments.

Replace them with people and there's no difference in behavior.

This is not Earth...

"Hey... bu-u-uddy..." I hear the voice of a drunken mare. I turn slowly at the sound, and see a light gray earth pony with a steel-colored mane. "I'm out of caps. Ca-a-an you get me-e-e a drink?"

I don't feel up to answering that. I am not in the mood for friendly behavior.

There was a sound of irritation from the gray mare's drunken lips.

"Did you lo-o-ose your tongue?" she says.

"No..."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

I can't remember what she asked ten seconds ago. I'm completely distracted.

"Oh..." an exasperated and tired sigh escapes her mouth. I am standing about a foot away from her, and already here I can smell her breath. "What a jerk you are..." Suddenly her annoyance fades and she smiles strangely. "Look... how about I suck your dick for a drink?"

Her provocative and uncontrollable behavior is noticed in time by the barpony.

"You have enough for today. Go home"

The gray earth pony ignored him, as well as the visitors sitting next door. Her head staggers and her tongue slurs.

"And for three-e-e-e bottles you can fu-u-uck me..."

"Okay, that's it," the barpony sighs heavily. He shouted loudly, trying to shout out the noise of amusement that surrounded him, pointing with his hoof at the gray mare who wants to barter her wet places in exchange for a drink. "Guys, get her out of here!"

Not a minute later, a large earth pony with metal weights on his front legs shows up. The local equivalent of brass knuckles, I think. He deftly grabs her with both forelegs and throws her onto own back.

"Don... don't touch me... bitch," she says angrily. "Asshole!"

When she found herself on his back, indignation continues to pour from her lips. She struggles clumsily to get out, kicking and punching the guard who has been carrying her.

"Let me go-o-o-o! He-e-elp... Ra-a-ape!

None of the customers pay any attention to her. I glance at the departing guard with the drunken, kicking mare on his back. Eventually, they disappeared into the crowd.

I sit down tiredly at a chair in front of the bar. Barpony, with an apologetic look, tries to speak to me.

"I apologize... for the incident."

I don't care. Frankly, I don't care about anything at all right now. I feel lost and incredibly alone in this new world. I'm scared.

Barpony interprets my condition as unsatisfactory.

"Heh..." he grins awkwardly. "The first mug of selected cider is on the house!"

A few apples in the mug turn into a yellowish liquid in the blink of an eye.

I no longer know how to react to this incomprehensible to the mind event. I wanna get rid of my thoughts. I don't want to think or feel anything at all.

I dry the first cup... and then I order a stronger drink... and I start drinking more and more of it. I lose the flow of time and awareness of what is happening.

It's wet... and cold... rain... a wet purple mare... light pink mane... railroad car... wet again, but warm this time... a pleasant sensation in the pelvic area...

***

Where am I?

It seems like I'm in the mess of something again.

I feel like I'm lying on the bed with my stomach. My back legs are hanging off it. It's an uncomfortable sleeping position, which affects my body. It looks like I had too much to drink last night. 'PHOENIX' implant handles the effects of poisons and other toxins, and alcohol is no exception, so I don't have a hangover thanks to it. It's for the best.

Except... Whose bed am I in?

Vague images of strong and cool moisture, purple fur, and a pleasant sensation... What did they mean?

I look around and see a pony with purple fur on my right. The sight of her light pink mane instantly relieves my drowsiness. I jump off the bed and find her asleep in the same defiant pose as I was.

I blink in surprise, unable to believe my eyes.

Oh, no... did we...

There is no point in arguing with the remaining stains on the bed and on the floor under Bluerise's hind legs. I... really did sleep with her while I was drunk.

How did I manage to sleep with a member of a species I've seen for days?! Why did I get so drunk in the first place? I usually watch out for...

Oh.

Images from Ditzy Doo's store appear before my eyes. The clock... the calendar... the map... the globe...

These things affected my mood yesterday. I clearly wanted to forget myself to death, at least for a while, to calm my resentful mind and my emotions bubbling like boiling water. They still are echoing through my body. It's easier for me to face these realizations now, but it's still scary...

Thinking about it makes the fact that I've slept with a pony... Well, at least I have slept with a female and not a male. However, it still makes me feel wild to think that I've slept with someone who isn't a human!

I find myself staring at Bluerise's purple butt and her crotch covered by her tail.

What was it about her that attracted me so much that she could get me into bed? I'm not so careless as to stick my dick anywhere!

I look around the room. A freight railroad car converted for housing. At the opposite end of the freight car are a curtain and a bathroom. I go to the door and try it. It turns out to be unlocked. Have we even forgotten to lock ourselves in? I hope no one saw or heard us...

On the nightstand I see a glass bottle of some kind of white liquid. The dried remains of this white liquid are on the purple unicorn's crotch, under her hind legs and... I look down at her lower abdomen...

Oh, wonderful. I've even had time to try the local lovemaking remedies. The last few days... it's been some kind of theater of the absurd. I would like to believe that I am in a coma or a simulation, but these hypotheses cannot yet be disproved, and therefore they are best discarded until there is at least circumstantial evidence.

I've heard of hypotheses about the existence of a multiverse... but only in sci-fi holofilms. In another form, I don't think I've ever seen one.

There is a heavy and tired sigh. I turn around to see that the purple pony is moving.

"Where am I? What's happened? Why am I lying like this..."

She gets up from the bed, turns around and... she shrieks in fear.

"What are you doing here?" she asks me.

"I want to know that too..."

The sleepy veil from her eyes dissipates. She regards me with surprise and concern, then, with interest, she feels something strange behind her... In the butt area, I assume.

Her gaze indicates that she has an epiphany.

"Oh..." she sighs embarrassedly. "You and I..."

"It looks like..." I turn to the nightstand with the white liquid. She follows my gaze, and suddenly she seems to feel a little better.

"Oh... I used a contraceptive potion..."

Contraceptive potion? Now that's interesting! Sounds pretty convenient, if I understand its purpose...

Her face turns back to me.

"I hope no one heard us... how did this even happen?" she asks.

"The last thing I remember... was when I started hitting the alcohol at the bar."

"As we were talking in the cafeteria, I started to forget myself. You were telling me about your device that collects water from the air... Then you left... and then it started to rain and... I don't remember anything."

I feel like I've been doused with cold water.

The rain! Cold water... So that's what it was! Bluerise must have gotten completely soaked in the rain. And my attraction to wet and moist bodies made all the difference.

"Blue... I guess my attraction to wet bodies was one of the reasons I ended up in bed with you."

"Oh... I remembered that when you rescued me, you glared at me, for I was wet then. I wanted to wash off all the effects of being a prisoner of the raiders... So it was your fault..."

The last words came out not so much in reproach as in relief. Nevertheless, I feel resentment.

"Hey! I wouldn't force someone to sleep with me, even when I was drunk. So... even though I was attracted to you, you ended up agreeing to it yourself."

"Well... Let's find out" She's blushing. "Maybe Juice or Dash knew something about what happened."

"So... shall we?"

"Let me take a shower first... and then you can do it."

"All right, but I better wait outside. Just in case."

She nods with an understanding expression on her face.

***

Outside, there are really signs of yesterday's rain. Puddles, slightly wet ground...

While I was taking a shower, I looked at myself with a bored look and noticed a mark on the outside of my thigh. On the opposite thigh is the same one in the same spot. An ace of spades with a crossed wrench and screwdriver in the center. I have no idea what it means or what it serves, but at this point I have no desire to ponder it. I've entered another world and managed to sleep with a pony... I have to deal with these things first.

After the shower, we go to Bluerise's friends from her caravan. They are in the next passenger railroad car... There are two seats in each compartment. It's a tight squeeze...

We knock on the right compartment.

The door is opened by the orange pony.

"Oh, hello, lovebirds," Juice grins at the sight of us. The young light blue earth pony appears from the upper bed.

"Oh, good morning, folks!" she waves cheerfully at us.

"May we come in?" Bluerise asks embarrassedly.

"Sure." Juice steps back to the window. "You two can still fit in our small compartment."

Blurise sits closer to her, and I sit on the edge near the door, which I slide closed just in case. I feel out of place, so I seem to be huddled against the wall near the entrance.

"What happened yesterday?" the purple unicorn asks in a quiet and awkward voice. Juice is about to answer, but the young and energetic Dash on top beats her to it.

"You got fucked!"

Just like that, huh? I don't envy Bluerise, even though I don't feel the best myself. Having sex with a non-human... it's beyond my imagination. Although there have been all sorts of persons in the Wasteland... who have fucked not only humans, but robots too... or the robots fucked them. In New Vegas for sure. Yes, and there's always someone who would take a chance and stick his dick in some mutant. People did what they did out of desperation.

Bluerise is tactfully silent.

Juice shakes her head and she looks at Dash. She continues, turning to the most confused pony in the compartment, "Yes... dear, you rushed toward Daniel without any hesitation. You were in the rain... You were soaked... and decided to hide under Daniel's belly."

The awkward pause lingers. I can't stand the concentration of awkwardness.

"And then what?" I ask.

"I heard about it from the diners. They said Blue suddenly started giggling."

"What do you mean?" I burn with impatience and embarrassment.

" It was like something tickled her."

Given that she was wet, my interest in her must have increased dramatically and I can already guess what started tickling her while she was under my belly. Yeah... that's definitely wonderful place to hide from the rain.

"And then what?"

"I don't remember word for word, but I was told she said something like that: Will you tickle me in my wagon with this?"

Dash laughs from above.

"I wish I'd been there!" Dash adds sadly.

"H-how many ponies have s-saw us?" Bluerise voices, wanting to squeeze into the railcar bed.

"All the diners at the restaurant... And then you were heard, despite the rain, in the neighboring carriages... and..."

"...even I here heard someone's muffled scream of pleasure," Dash says. Every word like wood that threw into that purple fireplace of embarrassment.

Of course it did... the whole town had heard about her behavior in the dining area... and another part of town had even heard.

"I-I-I..." she begin to stammer, and she hugs herself, squeezing harder and harder into the bed. "Let's get run out of town... And don't come around here anymore..."

Juice smiles sympathetically and caresses her mane with her hoof.

"I understand how you feel, Blue... but we still have to sell what we got from the Porcupines. We've only got one brahmin."

"Buy some more," she squeaks. "And I'll hide in a box and never come out."

"Well..." she hugges Bluerise. "It's not that bad."

"No, it is. It's a shame..."

There is another pause.

I didn't expect her to start reacting this way about the incident. She was worried yesterday that the rest of her life would consist of satisfying others... and then she actually jumped into bed with the stallion herself. Seems... a bit hypocritical. At least that's how others might perceive it. I, on the other hand, find this behavior inconsistent, but who knows what bouquet of emotions is going on in Bluerise from her captivity and what exactly prompted her to sleep with me.

Perhaps her alcoholic intoxication last night reinforced some kind of connection with me because of the fact that I saved her from the nightmare. Probably she feels safe with me.

Juice interrupts the silence, addressing the unicorn.

"Look... stay here... or in your railroad car. You're getting too nervous right now."

"Uh-huh... okay. Better with you." She snuggles into the embrace of the orange earth pony. I find it quite a sight.

"Well... then I'll go?"

"Can I come with you?" the voice from above comes with signs of shyness. For the first time I sense any uncertainty in her tone.

"What for?"

"Well... I... I'm curious to ask you what you did yesterday..."

"Dash!" Juice hisses indignantly.

"What? I was hoping I'd get some of it, too..."

"I'd better go. I'm not in the mood to even think about it. So, don't get your hopes up."

***

Outside, some ponies are paying attention to me. Most of them are smile slightly, making me feel even more ashamed.

It's a small town, everyone knows about each other. Of course, it isn't uncommon for them to hear ponies having a great time in bed, or even around the corner, after they'd sat down at the Turnpike Tavern. Our behavior among the sober dining area crowd, especially that of Bluerise, made us the topic of discussion rather than anyone else who'd managed to pick up the company that night.

I discover that my bag of caps is gone. There were about a hundred and fifty caps in there. Either I had drank them away, or I had lost them somewhere, or it had been stolen from me... or I gave them away myself. When I'm drunk, I can often go out and buy a drink for everyone in the bar... It's happened to me more than once. Generosity will get me into trouble.

The first thing I decided to do is to check my gear. Most of my caps were left at the store with Ditzy Doo before I went to the bar. I hope she didn't steal some of the caps I left there without asking... though that's unlikely, since she decided to fix my armor and sew up my cloak and backpack for free.

At the Absolutely Everything store, I am already greeted by the owner with a cheerful smile.

"Good morning, Dee."

She smiles even wider. One of her eyes is looking at me.

Please don't ask me what happened yesterday.

'I got it all sewn up and fixed.'

With her front hoof, she points out where all my stuff is. Blissful relief—she's not interested in hearing rumors about how Bluerise and I got the attention of half the town.

"Oh, nice! You did a good job."

Something flutters happily on her back, catching my attention... which changes to surprise. A gray sprout. Soft in appearance... remotely reminiscent of wings, or more accurately, the plucked wings of some bird.

How in heaven's name did I not see that yesterday?!

I quickly hide my goggling eyes and turn away, pretending to have a coughing fit. The trick hasn't worked; Ditzy has noticed my gaze before my fake cough, she is smiling politely. I hear the quiet rustle of chalk on the chalkboard.

"I'm sorry..." I begin, while she is writing something. "I didn't want to be indelicate."

'I'm a pegasus. I'm used to us being rare in the Wasteland, and the newcomers gawking at me.'

"It didn't bother you that I was staring at you so openly?" I ask.

'Not at all. Truth be told, others are more interested in the fact that I'm a ghoul than that.'

"You can understand them. Ghouls can lose their minds sooner or later, and they become feral, lovers of living flesh."

'It usually takes a lot of stress to do that. Feralism is heralded by seizures. But in 200 years I haven't had a single seizure.'

I feel myself staring at that gray pegasus again. Only a handful of ghouls have been able to live that long, keeping their mind stable.

"Wow... impressive."

She nods appreciatively and finishes writing.

'I don't let myself get discouraged. There's always something to be happy about. I especially enjoy muffins!'

No sooner than I read what she has written, she erases the inscription and shows me the next one with a burning look in her eyes.

'By the way, would you like some?'.

Such an enthusiastic and energetic look. It's hard to resist.

"Won't that distract you from your work?"

She shakes her head negatively, and scribbles something with chalk again.

'I put them on to cook. It's almost ready. Time for a tasty snack. And sweets help you think and work better.'

Can't argue with that.

The gray mare with the plucked wings treats me to fresh muffins and grabs a couple for herself. A few minutes later another little mare join us, probably smelling the fresh muffins. She is happily, as well as Ditzy Doo, showing off her drawings. For a Wastelander, and for her age, she draws quite well. She's quite good at it. Too bad there's no place in the Wasteland for such creative talents. Except for drawing maps and depicting creatures and plants in travel guides.

This filly also has no horn. She is not an earth pony. She is a unicorn, but... the horn is sawed off. Not broken off. That is to say, the loss of the horn was not accidental. I don't want to ask about it for fear of causing sad and painful thoughts in the little one.

I shove those thoughts away and focus on the sweet and fresh muffin, on the pull of the silver-gray filly, and on appreciation of her skills. And I remember again about maps and guidebooks. She will draw them for Ditzy Doo. Guides and maps are always mottled with simple and clear illustrations, and she will be able to supplement or enhance them.

After thanking her for the treat, I pick up all my allowed gear in town, as well as the maps and guidebooks I has purchased. I ask who here can help me with my magic, who I can check with to make sure there is nothing wrong with my horn.

I go outside and see it's a gray, cloudy day.

Is it always this gloomy and cloudy here?

I look around and realize I forget something. Turning on Pip-Boy's recording device, which instantly translates voiced words into text, I start:

"The day I arrived was the 20th of Linden, Blueday. Faced with a local gang of raiders, the Porcupines. In the fight with them I was badly wounded, but rescued by the caravan led by Bluerise, who had freed by me. Apparently, I was unconscious for two local days. On the fourth day of my stay, the 23rd of Linden, Orangeday, woke up in the hospital of New Appleloosa, this city of metal, and realized that I..." I look around cautiously, hoping that no one is overhearing me. "...very far from my home."

End of recording. Pip-Boy converts the audio recording into text. I haven't been taking notes like that lately, unless there are too many things going on in my life at once. That's how it is now. I would also put a mark on the map, but I don't have a global map. Only a local scan of the area, taking into account the surrounding terrain.

Day four in a new world, every day of which lasts two hours longer than on Earth. It will be interesting to see how much of an effect this will have on my perception of time going forward.

Oh... I remember something else. I turn on the reorder.

"Purchase guidebooks and maps from Ditzy Doo and pick up your weapons at the guard post."

I turn off the recorder of my Pip-Boy. It's a reminder for me. I will purchase maps and guidebooks next time. Otherwise, I'm definitely going to sink into them, I know myself. It is impossible to resist such useful information for survival, not taking into account my irrepressible curiosity.

At the moment, I have one main goal that excites me: learning magic!

***

After an awkward—because of last night's incident with Bluerise—breakfast in the common dining room, I went to the New Appleloosa train station. I look out at it. Reconstructed railroad tracks and restored concrete and metal platforms, the latter littered with barrels and crates. On one of the tracks stand a train of steam locomotives and two dozen freight and passenger cars. Earth ponies are leisurely loading crates into the freight cars.

I walk up to one of them.

"Excuse me, where can I find Crane?" I ask.

"He's in his wagon. Over there."

"Thank you."

At the direction of the working earth pony, I make my way to the wagon he indicated. The side door is wide open. I climb the metal steps and see a yellow unicorn with an orange and beige striped mane dining at a table. On his plate is roast meat of some kind of animal and a couple of tomatoes. He immediately notices my appearance, and my attention is instantly focused on the way he telekinesis the cutlery with unprecedented dexterity.

"Hello."

"Well hello," he says softly and tastes the red tomato. The clear red juice runs down his chin, which he picks up without delay. Not a drop is spilled. Thrifty and unsparing. Praise.

"I'm not distracting much?"

"A lot? No, but I don't have much time for conversation right now. What do you want?"

"I'm here..." I can't help but watch him work his horn. Or rather, magic. I still have mixed feelings about magic. One part of my mind says it's unnatural, and the other part says I should learn how it works and learn it immediately. "I need help from an expert in magic. I recently hit my horn hard against a hard surface. Since then I have been afraid to use my magic. I want to make sure he's okay first, start with the most innocuous manipulations of magic."

He gives me an appraising look.

"What's the occasion?" he asks. Cutting off a piece of meat, he swallows it and snacks on the tomato again.

I have to come up with a decent answer quickly.

"I'm... I'm a little embarrassed to talk about it," I say tentatively, which could be interpreted as embarrassment. I want to buy myself some time to make up a believable story.

"Hohe oh," he pronounces with a stuffed mouth. And yet he hasn't lost a crumb. "Flit ih ouh. I'h inferesheh."

"I... hit my horn hard against the wall when I got carried away with the music and tried to dance in the shower and ended up slipping."

He laughs so hard he almost chokes. Crumbs and drops of food fall on the wooden floor of the wagon.

"Fuck..." he coughs. "There's something embarrassing about it... but not as embarrassing as your duet with that purple unicorn."

Damn it, he knows! Now I'm really embarrassed.

"All right... all right, I'll help you, but not for free."

"How much?"

"Three hundred caps."

"Why don't we settle on two hundred?"

"Why should we?"

"You said you didn't have much time, so let me pay two hundred caps and help you with your work."

He hesitates, glancing at his food. There's one last piece of meat and some tomato left. His head with its short beige-orange mane shakes as he raises his gaze at me, a sense of doubt in it.

"Do you have any knowledge of home maintenance, plumbing, electrics and whatnot?"

A perspective from my long ago youth, when I lived in the Vault 101, flashes through my mind. I was one step away from becoming the chief engineer of the entire Vault. When I was even younger, I studied the entire bunker out of boredom, all of its utilities, including the secret sections with forbidden things... every corner, every bolt and wire. Electricity, ventilation, heating, plumbing...

I can barely contain a smile.

"Yeah... had to read books and do that sort of thing," I reply with restrained pride. I don't want to arouse suspicion about the origin of my experience. After all, I am a unicorn, and as I understand it, I must then possess my own set of magical tricks. I deeply doubt that in this world, magic would have hardly escaped the realm of technology. If that were the case, he might ask for even more help, and I know absolutely no tricks involving the use of magic in repairs.

"Excellent. I'll settle for two hundred. I need the caps and the extra horn now like a mare needs a stallion in heat."

"What's the matter, if it's no secret?"

"There's been a sudden influx of new mouths. They need to build some kind of housing, electricity, heating, and plumbing."

"That's... generous of you."

"Well, not leaving the foals outside, is it?"

He swallows the last piece of meat and eats the rest of the tomato. The orange color of his magic merges with the orange helmet he puts on his head. He gets up and walks out. I weave after him like a dog.

"Where do these foals come from?"

There's a look of wariness in his voice, "You seem curious..."

"It's my nature..." I decide to answer without deceiving myself. "It's gotten me into all sorts of trouble. If there some kind of secret, you don't have to answer."

He sighs heavily.

"Look... you seem like a nice guy to me. All because some unicorn has made a difference in the life of the Wasteland. She managed to exterminate everyone in Old Appleloosa and freed the young slaves by bringing them here. We had no choice but to shelter these orphans. However, all this entailed one extremely unpleasant circumstance..."

"Surely there are bound to be those who will want revenge or to return the slaves stolen from them?"

"Exactly. All of Old Appleloosa's citizens are never in the city at the same time. As with many settlements and towns, though. Some are out scouting, some hunting for meat, some for new slaves. So they will want revenge, because their slaves were with us, and we tried to be neutral with them... We had to beef up security. Some of my workers were taken for security. Anyway, anyone can snoop around about our situation, capabilities, armed guards, and so forth..."

The Porcupines probably weren't residents of Old Appleloosa, but it's clear from their tone that they loved the place.

"How did she ever manage to exterminate the inhabitants of Old Appleloosa?" I ask with perplexity.

"Littlepip and Calamity happened to be there when the city was weakest. At the time of their arrival, there were mostly merchants, guests, and only a few guards left."

"Still, it's not a small town after all... several hundred ponies... at least..."

"The bulk of their guards were turrets... and Littlepip knew how to work with those things. She sneaked into the city, hacked into the control terminal, and reprogrammed the turrets. The carnage began. Calamity, an excellent markspony, finished off the remnants. And Littlepip had no trouble killing the guards and guests distracted by the turrets."

"So that's it..."

"Yep. As they were riding the train back, a group of slave-traders returning to town saw all the chaos they'd caused. They chased after them... In the course of which most of my guys, the train workers, were killed."

"I'm sorry."

He sighs bitterly, "Thank you..."

"So Calamity and Littlepip were the ones the Porcupines were talking about..." I wonder aloud, remembering their indignation.

Those two ponies were just lucky that they picked the best time to attack. Usually the information about the city's security is deliberately exaggerated to discourage attackers. They talk about idle reserves and the like. And in general, the state of security is constantly changing. By the time you know one state of affairs and plan actions relative to it, as it is already outdated, and the situation is turned upside down.

"Porcupines?" Crane realizes with surprise, pausing. "Wait, so we owe it to you for exterminating them?"

"You could say that..." I turn to him and shrug. "I was there by accident. As you can see, my curiosity led me to them..."

"Lucky it led you," he says, shaking his head with a slight smile. "One less vigilante group... It can't help but feel good."

That's one reason why even saving slaves can lead to more death and torment. The slave traders won't let it go that easily. A good cause, but sad consequences. Almost two years ago, after meeting Ulysses, I had an epiphany, and my desire to meddle in someone else's affairs fell away. I wonder if the pony who saved them realizes the consequences of what she did. The mess had to be cleaned up by others while she went about her business.

"While we're at it..." he continues. "I'll reduce the amount by a hundred caps. You're a capable and bright pony, I see, if you can handle them. You're useful, and I don't particularly want to deprive you of your caps."

"Thank you very much... but you need them more now, given recent events, and I'll get by somehow."

"I didn't expect generosity from you either," he pauses again. And looks me in the eye. "That's respectable." He looks around casually. "Here we are. The workshop of New Appleloosa. Let's get to work."

***

Learning the basics of magic is an incredible pleasure. The more Crane tells me about the principles of magic, namely spells, the more possibilities for its use arise in my mind.

It's extremely hard to hide my delight in magic... and the fact that I can manipulate it! I can feel it flowing through my body. I remember the strange streams of energy when I came out of the house where I woke up already in the body of a pony. That's what they are. They are magical streams. When I use magic, I feel them even more strongly. Like a stream of water running down my skin, only running through my whole body, through every cell in my body.

I can practically mentally control objects at close range. The farther away the object, the harder it is to manipulate. Masters of telekinesis, which Crane is, can manipulate several objects at a decent distance, in most cases without regard to weight.

I can do magic tricks! How fucking awesome is that!

"I hope you remember to eat well?" the yellow unicorn, master of telekinesis, asks me. "The quality of nutrition determines the effectiveness and accuracy of spells."

Before these words, I thought the unicorns here were like gods, capable of many things. As it turns out, this is not entirely true. The same principles work in magic as in keeping the body in good physical shape. We may all be, to varying degrees, intelligent, fast, strong, and nimble... but not all of us are. It all depends on training, practice, and proper nutrition. In the Wasteland, the latter is beyond the reach of many. Even I have had problems with it, and it affects how I feel and my mood.

Unicorns, with their manipulation of magic, are no stranger to this. Most of them are capable of telekinesis and a few weak spells... depending on what they do. For example, medics know a few tricks that help them heal better, and a repairpony, respectively, knows magical tricks for fixing things.

I was furtively delighted that I could bring a glass of water to my mouth with my eyes closed with telekinesis... Yes! I can do that!

In the course of the consultation and communications into the new dwellings, Crane told me that magic and spells are used in the technology. That is, he confirmed my hunch. Mostly magic is used in high-tech devices, like my PipBuck, power armor, and energy-magic weapons. In general. Except for the use of magical spells, local technology works along roughly the same principles as it does on Earth.

With my telekinesis, I was able, without looking, to retrieve the cap on the bottom of my backpack. It was awesome! I can't stop thinking about it...

The curious thing to me is that my magic is the color of my eyes. It's blue. Crane's eyes are orange... and so does magic. It is unlikely that the color of my magic correlates with the quality of my spells, just as, in fact, the color of my hair correlates with my mental abilities.

My magic teacher knows from me that I'm from Hoofland, but he's not really interested in what's going on there. That's fine with me.

I ask how well the railroad tracks is restored and where they lead.

"There are a lot of railroad tracks around here," he explains, "but only a few of them are more preserved than others, so we've patched them up a bit and are using them now. One leads to Old Appleloosa, a second and a third to the northeast and east to other settlements. Along the last two directions, New Appleloosa farms, smaller settlements, and lonely shanty towns have turned out relatively recently."

"Relatively recent? I think it has something to do with the fact that Old and New Appleloosa are not far from each other..."

"You have a good point. It used to be just Appleloosa. There's plenty of fertile land around it, and we used it for farming. A tidbit... Through clever manipulation and subterfuge, the supporters of the slave trade came to power. They wanted to make full use of the land..."

"I suppose there weren't enough ponies willing to work the land for that?"

"Exactly. They wanted to employ forced labor. That is, slaves, as in many settlements and cities in the south, beyond the Great Deserts. I don't know about you in Hoofland, but on the East Coast slavery is rare and openly frowned upon, while it is rumored to be actively practiced in the Southern part of pre-war Equestria..."

"So what about New and Old Appleloosa?" I remind him, sensing that Crane is getting distracted. We are wiring one of the dwellings, and I watch in awe and delight as my blue magic envelops the wires and tools and lifts them into the air.

How delightful it is, a loose bolt up my ass!

"Anyway, this state of affairs did not please the residents of Appleloosa and the nearby farms, so they left. Nearby, a railroad depot was discovered, littered with railroad cars. They decided to use them as material to build a new city. The farmers went further in search of fertile land. And they found it. We reconnected, fixed the tracks, helped set up farms for them, and... named the town New Appleloosa."

"What happened to Appleloosa?" I ask. Like a child at the sight of a new toy, I twirl the screwdriver enthusiastically in front of my eyes.

"The slave trade has begun to flourish... and the empty, fertile land was filled with slaves. We could not compete with them... so we formed a mutually beneficial relationship with them. Eventually, most of the craftsponies in various fields, like repairpony and medicine pony, left with us. They needed our services... wouldn't have a claim on us in return."

"What about the Porcupines and the like?"

"They're just guests..." He hushes up, seeing me playing with my tools. "It looks more like you're playing than working and practicing..."

"Sorry..." I say and guiltily press my lips together and go back to work.

"So... what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Bandits and raiders come to our farms, wait for one of our patrols to leave, and attack. At best, they take some of the produce and leave. At worst, they loot the farm, rape the farmers, and take them as slaves to Old Appleloosa."

"So you don't mind that Littlepip and Calamity freed your own farmers this way?"

"There were very few of them there. Our farmers and foals we traded in exchange for our services. Most of their slaves were from the western and southern territories... I wonder how you managed to get past Old Appleloosa in the first place, since all the routes from the west go through it."

"I'm always wary of caravan routes." I shrug. "It's easier for me to avoid animals and mutants, since they don't sit in elaborate ambushes and set traps."

The power of Old Appleloosa has settled in quite nicely... it milked the people of New Appleloosa by stealing their farmers. Not by its own forces, but by free gangs and mercenaries. Perhaps Littlepip had the same idea, so she decided to stop this milking scheme as well.

"How often do the gangs visit the farmers?"

"Depends on luck... Once a month, on average. Some farmers get lucky and don't get harassed for years."

"So... why is the release of your farmers... at least their foals, is such a problem?"

The yellow unicorn with the orange helmet on his head wanted to answer, but a pony brings us more consumables to install the electrical wiring. When she left, he speaks up.

"Liberation makes sense... But not in defeating Old Appleloosa. The farmers who will be taken into slavery in the future, we won't find any more. They will be taken elsewhere..."

Wow... I hadn't even thought of such consequences. A noble cause turned out to be a disaster. I can see why there was bitterness and fear in Crane's voice. He understands that in the future there will be many problems for the city... Perhaps they have already begun, but he has tactfully chosen not to speak of them.

***

Training has taken me all the way through the evening, not counting the little break.

I'm going to the bar to clear my head. Although I can go to the dining area 'Big Carrot', I prefer the bar with its fun atmosphere. I also want to try the local equivalent of whiskey. I still have enough caps.

At the bar I am greeted by the same noise of fun and clinking of mugs from last night. I feel an involuntary smile and calm on my face. I am instantly spotted by the familiar orange pony. When she sees me, she waves to me affably and invites me to her table.

"Good evening, Juice."

"Good evening to you, too... I see your armor and gear are in good order now." She looks me over from head to tail.

"Not a word... How's Bluerise doing over there?"

"You just missed her a few minutes ago. I tried to drag her out into the pony crowd, just to show that a lot of ponies don't care about what happened to you with her."

I glance around at all the visitors for a look.

"They didn't care," I say what is already clear. "They'll talk for a couple of days, laugh and forget."

"That's right, the locals get drunk, too, and then stay in bed one night."

"You never know when you'll end up dead in a ditch somewhere, so if you just want to get laid, the bar is the place to start looking."

"That's true... but it's still indecent," she depicts air quotes on the last word with her front legs. "That's why they only want to talk about what others have done, not themselves. Anyway... what are you drinking?"

"The best... Only I'll be paying."

She chuckles.

"Sorry, but not this time."

"Oh... I'm already getting handouts..."

The orange pony raises her hoof, forcing me to look at her carefully. Her yellow eyes are serious, with a sense of sadness in them.

"Gold once told you that he would put a drink for you in New Appleloosa... I repay his debt."

Oh... The yellow earth pony... I feel a little uneasy. He didn't survive the rescue. He died because I didn't keep track of my surroundings.

"But he..." I begin.

"Yes, he didn't survive in the end, but, thanks to you, his suffering ended quickly."

"You... didn't just decide to pay off that... debt?"

"I knew him well. He wasn't a bad, resilient stallion."

"I'm sorry for not being able to save him."

"You don't need to apologize, you did the best you could. And you don't need to torture yourself with thoughts of his death. After all, all the other prisoners survived, myself included."

I look around at the cheerful and drunken visitors. They are laughing, gossiping, joking, and having a good time.

"If I'd paid more attention, Gold would be among them..."

"So do it instead of him. Get a drink—he'd be glad you marked release for him."

Her words... The way she said it. I fall out of reality a little, but I still say, "Okay."

And absent-mindedly I sit down in part of the passenger seat.

The orange earth pony whistles and calls the waitress and orders the best drink for us from her.

As we wait to order, I realize that I need to distract myself from thinking about Gold's death. My gaze wanders until my attention is drawn to the two mares. They are openly and unashamedly cuddling and kissing each other passionately. The stallion sitting next to them clearly feels like a white crow in their company, stiff and modest in appearance. All three are sitting in the passenger seats from the wagons at the next table, so I can hear them talking, but I don't look directly at them.

"It's only fun for you... " he mutters. It sounds like they were having some kind of conversation before that.

"Come on," the green-tinged pony distracts. The other continues to lay kisses on her pale green neck. "Uh-oh..." a blissful exhale comes from her mouth. They look tipsy and ready to lick each other off right on the table they're sitting at.

"You're the one who has it easy with these dating things... not me. I don't drink," he says.

He reminds me of the mare who approached him in his coloring set. This leads me to believe that they are kin, perhaps siblings.

"You don't need a drink either..." the green mare continues, openly enjoying the light pink pony's kisses. "You buy a drink and give it to the mare you like."

"And if she refuses?"

"Look for another... Someone will say yes. Relax. That's what they come here for. Besides, it's time for you to wean yourself off me, old enough for strange mares," she says and turns to the light pink mare, beginning to nibble on her ear.

I shudder as if a bottle has uncorked over my ear, and listen more closely to their conversation. I didn't hear that, did I?

The stallion blushes and shushes contemptuously at her.

As I understand it, I was not imagining it... Their family ties are stronger than most people usually are.

"Watch your language..." he adds.

She sniffs away from the lips of the light pink earth pony with a smack and turns to the brother.

"What do you think I do?"

The stallion blushes even more. He sits and is silent... Silent... Clearly holding back... He watches as his sister is in the embrace of the light pink mare. Reacts with envy to the wet sounds of her kisses, languid sighs...

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he resents, and stands up. "In front of me? And yet you don't share..."

Hears the voice of the light pink earth pony, still tucking her nose into his sister's neck, "If you were a mare, I'd share my tongue with you..."

"So, brother, I'm sorry... Oh..." the green pony emits and turns to the light pink one. "Let's go somewhere more private. I want you to fill me with kisses like that between my thighs."

"If we had StealthBucks, I'd do it right here..." she says.

They giggle and walk away, helping each other walk evenly without crashing into anyone. My brother leads them with a resentful look and walks away annoyedly somewhere in the depths of the bar. Juice has noticed me watching them.

"Brother and sister..." she says with disgust. "I've never understood how siblings could..."

"And you don't have to," I say. "You wouldn't understand anyway. Just like anything that's foreign to you."

"Maybe, but to me it's disgusting and unnatural."

I don't care who sleeps with whom, as long as it's consensual. There's enough crap in the world as it is to think that getting sincere pleasure between two mismatched individuals is something nasty and wrong.

I am about to reply, but at that moment a bar mistress bring us a drink. I lose all desire to engage in conversation on this topic. Without wasting time, the orange mare uncorks the bottle and pours the translucent yellow liquid into our glasses.

"Here's to you," Juice says.

"To Gold," I say, lifting the glass with my telekinesis. The whiskey is excellent and rich in flavor. It has a pleasant and delicate aftertaste. I can't stand it and take another sip. No wonder it costs so much.

We sit in silence. We stare into our glasses, looking for... something.

I see the green stallion again, with another familiar pony.

"That was quick," Juice says, noticing him with me. "She's almost twice his age, too. She's old enough to be his mother."

It turns out she is older than me, too.

"But she's got... experience," I say. "That's what makes like her attractive. Though I doubt he was the one who suggested she go to the secluded place..."

"Why?"

"The same mare offered to put a drink on her yesterday in exchange for me being able to sleep with her. And all I did was stand next to her."

"Ah..." Juice snorts. "Then it's easy prey."

"And how do you feel about young studs?" I smile.

"Never had any interest in them. I prefer stallions my own age. They're also... With experience. I want to enjoy myself too, not teach a young and youthful stallion. You're a stud to me, too."

I'm completely new to pony anatomy, I don't know anything about it, but the emotion on the ponies' faces I've seen is enough to suggest that Juice is telling the truth. Nothing about her gives away the lie.

"Too bad," I say with non-seriousness. "I liked you."

She rolls her eyes defiantly and smiles slightly.

"Your behavior after one event, the rejection of Dash who showed interest in you... You're obviously joking."

The orange pony unequivocally refers me back to Bluerise. She realizes that Blue was remembered, and the smile disappeared from her lips like a blown out candle.

We are silent again. Juice runs her hoof over the edge of the glass.

"And yet," she says, "Bluerise is grateful to you. She's not that giddy, and she wouldn't go to bed with you just for fun. She appreciates knowing you, albeit briefly. You have spared her the humiliation, she can no longer remain indifferent to you. She... trusts you more than anyone else in this town."

"Not counting you and Dash."

"We're just contract employees," she excuses herself. "We're new to her. You saved her from trouble... when we couldn't keep her safe."

"I'm surprised the Porcupines didn't touch you and Dash."

"Blue... was much more attractive to me and Dash, and there was no interest in us... I'd say I was lucky, just don't tell her that. She'll take it the wrong way."

I nod understandingly. She might hate herself or Juice... I don't know.

Loud laughter erupts behind me. Juice's ears perk up at its source, mine too.

"Wait, wait, wait..." the mare's intermittent post-laughter voice comes. "Then Sunny leaned over and started throwing up, and she lifted her long orange mane up so she wouldn't stain it with her vomit."

Another burst of laughter erupts. Juice chuckles demurely.

"What a concern..." she adds, staring thoughtfully into her glass.

"How long will you be here?" I ask Juice.

"Until we sell off all the surplus or until the customers' interest dies down. Tomorrow, Bluerise will take over the business and start selling the trophies we acquired from the raiders. She's the only one in a position to bargain a decent price for them."

"Won't they make jokes about what happened to her with me yesterday?"

"They'll get a punch in the face from me in return."

I can't hold back a smile.

"I don't envy them. Anyway, I'm glad she's getting back in line. To Bluerise," I say and raise my glass.

"Here's to Blue," Juice encourages, raising his own. And we take a sip each.

"Good whiskey this... What's it called?" I ask.

"The Sunburst."

"That's an interesting name... Oh... I forgot all about Rusty. How's he doing over there?"

"Oh, well... All day long he sits on the roof of some wagon near large groups of ponies and stares at them."

"Has he tried to talk to the other foals?"

"He is afraid. Only us he's more or less used to, especially Bluerise, but he still flinches when we touch him. At least let him get used to society that way."

"He needs a place to go." I drink to the bottom of my glass. "If he doesn't turn out to have acquaintances, then... maybe... I'll try to get Crane to take him. He's setting up the foals' living quarters, and he needs to know who's going to look after them."

Juice grabs the bottle with her teeth and already tilts it over my empty glass as I gesture with my hoof to stop her.

"I've had enough. I don't want to risk getting drunk again after last night. I might wake up cuddled up with you," I joke. "I'd better go... Take a hot bath... if there are enough caps."

"Thanks for keeping me company. Well, if there's a need for caps, we can help."

"And you, it was nice talking to you... Thanks for the drink and for the offer. I'll keep that in mind."

I go to the dining area 'Big Carrot'. After dinner, I head to the hotel, take a hot bath for half an hour, and make my way to the compartment, which I paid for two seats at once, since I want to be alone. The magic wore me out; it feels like I'd been unloading barrels from freight cars at the station all day. I complete my record of the events of the twenty-third of Linden and instantly fall asleep.

***

The 24th of the Month of the Linden, Yellowday. Day Five.

I spend breakfast in the dining room, thinking. I think better in the morning, with a clear head. Still not believing my eyes, I twirl the cutlery with my blue magic and ponder my position in this new and... frighteningly familiar world. All the same Wasteland, all the same principles of its life...

These thoughts... make me feel insane and my body shudder. A bone-chilling terror at the unknown... along with an irrepressible curiosity and a wondrous excitement about what awaits me. I need to learn more about the world around me. It's time to buy maps and guidebooks, too. I can't wait!

After breakfast, I head to Ditzy Doo.

My cartographer in Pip-Boy isn't working due to a lack of communication with the satellite. This is a problem I understand I can solve if I can find some PipBuck with the proper working module that will allow me to establish a connection to the local satellite system. If there are any... there should be, but in the meantime... I'll navigate the terrain the old-fashioned way.

Aside from the cartographer, the radio receiving module isn't working either. Another confirmation that I'm on at least another planet, since my Pip-Boy can't establish a connection with any of the satellites. It also can't tune in to local radio stations... I am, after all, in another universe. I doubt there is a special kind of energy on another planet that we don't have on Earth.

Arriving at the store, I see Ditzy serving a few customers. Being the polite pony I am, I decide not to interfere. I patiently wait my turn. I watch without much interest as others choose their merchandise and haggle hard for it. Ditzy smiles as charmingly as the goose can, refusing to accept their price. She forges another compromise.

She is only generous with those she respects. Glad she's not such a simple-minded, naive pony. Otherwise she wouldn't have survived two hundred years in the Wasteland.

Now it is my turn.

"Good morning, Dee."

'Morning, Dan', she grins, showing me a plaque with the inscription on it.

"I need a map... And also some sort of guide to the surrounding flora and fauna."

She instantly brings me hand-drawn—if that definition is appropriate in the case of a pony—maps with varying degrees of accuracy and elaboration. I choose a map of the northeastern part of the Equestrian Wasteland made by professionals, not amateurs. However, it also costs more. It shows key settlements and towns that are connected by caravan routes. It also depicts the locations of the various mutants most found in a particular area.

Useful for various meat and hide hunters.

I chose the northeast for several reasons. Nothing particularly interesting in the north, there are hardly any settlements or towns, too wild places, pre-war reservations, and then solid mountains. The west is drowning in fanatical groups, so I don't really feel like going in that direction. To the south are the Great Deserts, incredibly difficult to cross, and there are too many myths going around, which suggests a huge amount of danger. Given my current skills in my new body, I can't survive there. That leaves only Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Trottingham.

Having decided on a map, Ditzy Doo offers me one book as a guide. The cover and title of the book... drown me in nostalgic memories.

When we first got the Wasteland, my beloved and I didn't know much about it. And Moira Brown from Megaton was eager to gather as much useful survival information as she could into one book. I was looking for my father, but to do that I had to learn how to survive... Anyway, our views were the same. With what diligence, cunning, and persistence Brisa and I gathered all the useful information from others, bit by bit. Moira also gave us tasks to assimilate and check the information in practice.

The situation here is similar... Only for key survival knowledge I don't have to spend whole months again doing fieldwork and experiments. Wasteland Survival Guide has long been written.

A mind-boggling coincidence throws me out of reality for a few minutes. Ditzy Doo is bewildered but patiently waiting and studying my reaction.

"Did you... did you write it yourself?"

She brightens her smile and nods happily.

It's... can't help but be delightful.

"Considering how much you've lived and seen... Anyway, it's very cool that you decided to keep your experiences and acquired knowledge of the Wasteland in this form. Good for you! Though not everyone can read in the Wasteland."

This is one of the problems why such a book did not have the expected effect in the Capital Wasteland. Those who could read learned to survive better. For those who could not, which was the majority, the book was useless until they turned to others for help.

Ditzy Doo demonstrates the contents of the weighty book. It is replete with simple and intuitive images, like faces and cartoonish drawings of ponies. Far from a masterpiece of art, but nevertheless not a bad way to supplement and diversify the text. It will also be of interest to the youngest of us. That little filly that lives with Ditzy... I forget her name. I remember that she is an artist with a passion for her craft. She'll have something to do... for example, to complete and improve the simple and clear illustrations in this book. Ditzy will find something for her to do.

"Hmm. That's an original move. You thought of that flaw, too."

Another cheerful nod. So much joy and positivity reeks from this pony that it almost drowns out the smell of rotting flesh. Now it's clear how she became a successful salespony. Cheerful and positive personalities are like a magnet to others.

If the raiders hadn't cut out her tongue, it's unlikely she would have learned to write and subsequently created a large and voluminous book on survival. Her book saved many lives, as it cost practically at cost price. For a merchant, such generosity is good PR... No wonder how a ghoul like her could become a successful and popular merchant, not to mention the fact that her writing has changed the Wasteland for the better. Truly the consequences in life are astounding.

"You're just wonderful... The best pony I've ever met."

She jumps happily in place, dropping the plank, and throws herself into a big hug.

This is... unexpected. I have very mixed feelings, but her enthusiasm suppresses my discomfort, allowing me to enjoy the hug. It feels good.

«You're such a cool pony. Take the card and the book for free.»

"What?" I am perplexed. "That's too much on your part."

'You made my day. You can't buy that for the caps.'

"Yeah, I felt a rush of energy too..." I do feel a smile on my lips. Charged with positivity, like a glowing goole with radiation. "So this debt is paid."

She laughs.

'Take it. You deserve it.'

"Well... that's a smile I can't say no to anymore. Thank you so much."

I leave the store in the most positive frame of mind, except for the thrill and excitement of mastering magic. I haven't had that since time immemorial. Thank you, Ditzy Doo. I hope you do well and still have time to please many ponies.

I've updated my reminders in the Pip-Boy, removing the mention of maps and guides.

***

It's so unaccustomed to using telekinesis. I walk on four legs, and with blue magic I hold on to a new yet familiar book. I flip through the pages and enjoy Ditzy Doo's cute and childishly naïve artwork. And yet they give me a clearer idea of what the future holds for me. A bunch of titles that tell me nothing. So far. Hopefully I'll figure out the really important stuff while I'm finding my way home.

That's my primary goal. The way home. No need to even write it down.

I decide to walk to the main gate of the city and check my firearms. I was unconscious when it was taken from me, so I want to make sure it's safe. I also want to look around and see the local city defenses. Magic is present in this world, and I wonder if it is used for defense in any special way other than just being present in technology.

The wall that protects the peace of the inhabitants consists of wagons lined up with superstructures and small fortifications from which it is safe to fire. Guards walk along the wall. The main gate near the railroad tracks, it is suspended: a huge and massive iron plate welded from the walls of the freight cars is held up by a low freight crane. On top of the crane is a modest turret-shaped superstructure in which a pony with a sniper rifle nests. He's keeping a watchful eye on the situation below.

Near the gate there is a sort of paddock where the brahmins graze. Nearby is a parking lot for various carts and vehicles. Of course, it's all guarded... not for free. Working vehicles are always and everywhere highly valued, so there are always those who would like to steal them. The owners pay a pretty penny for guarding them. Among the carriages and working vehicles, I spot the familiar spiked trailer of the Porcupines.

Passing them, I walk straight up to the gate. Up close I see that it has one retractable door. This entrance is for the passage of ponies and small vehicles. There are about a dozen guards nearby. There are two more turrets on each side of the gate, probably firing large caliber rounds. Two unicorns are among the guards, but without heavy weaponry, and one I see has some oddball weapon... probably energy-magic.

I understand the two unicorns use defensive or attack spells during combat. I'd ask what their duties are as unicorn guards, but, remembering Crane's suspiciousness, I doubt I'd get an answer. They are all extremely suspicious now. I have only stood for a few minutes, peering at the protection on the main gate, for the guards have already cast oblique glances at me. I'd better get along the wall before anyone pays any attention to me. I head for the gate on the railroad tracks.

They're the same suspended ones, with special recesses at the bottom so they can lie on the rails. There are also guards and turrets.

There is a barely audible click from behind, followed by the steady characteristic hum of complex technology.

"Good day," a mare's voice follows. Somehow imperceptibly she gets close to me.

I turn around and see the same light gray unicorn with the energy-magic weapon pointed threateningly at me, which is what's making the humming noise. Her horn glows purple, as does the levitating weapon beside her.

"Don't make any sudden movements," she says. "If I see your horn flicker, you'll turn into a pile of ashes."

This isn't the first time I've been threatened, so it's not hard for me to keep my composure. Besides, I'd really better keep my cool and calm if I want to stay in one piece. The prospect of becoming a pile of ashes to be scattered around by the wind doesn't appeal to me at all.

"Good day," I smile cheerfully.

"What were you looking for at the gate?" her demanding voice and stern eyes make me shiver.

"Just curiosity."

"Curiosity... for what purpose?"

"Well... I'm new here."

"I noticed that."

The guards of the railroad track gate occasionally glanced at us. One of them has prepared to cover the unicorn. The others are watching on the other side of the gate.

"So what's the purpose of your interest in the defense of the city?"

"I want to know how much different the defenses of the towns here are from those to the west around Hoofland."

Her gaze softens visibly.

"Wow... you're from so far away?" she pleasantly wonders, flipping with telekinesis a strand of purple out of her face.

"Yes... I came to this town badly wounded. I wonder where I got to... and to whom."

"That's it... wait. You said you were badly wounded?"

"Yes. A caravan brought me here three days ago. They also had a spiky trailer of the Porcupines."

Her violet eyes widen with realization.

"So we owe it to you for exterminating the Porcupines?

"Well... you don't owe me anything personally," I smile slightly.

She hums with a smile and puts away her energy-magic weapon, hanging it on her back. With her gray front leg she makes two circular movements. The guards around us lose interest, including the one covering the unicorn. I take it she's called off the alarm.

"I didn't recognize you. You looked awful on the carriage."

"And now I'm cute?"

The gray unicorn smirks.

"Your hair isn't my type at all, but I like your smile. Let's go for a walk."

"Why?"

"You got our guards fucking nervous. Walking around, examining, studying... Let them see that you're fine."

"Well... then lead the way."

"We'll go back to the main gate, and then we'll see."

We walk toward the main gate. That's where I want to go anyway. There must be an armory there somewhere with my weapons.

"So you're from Hoofland?"

"It's a colorful place," I decide to elaborate on all the information I've heard from the others, especially Bluerise. "But I didn't like it there, also sick of every settlement and town having principled bigots and sectarians fighting each other. One wrong word or move and you risk losing your life."

"Were you one of them?"

"Nah, I was lucky to be born in an adequate place."

"In a Stable?" She looks at my Pip-Boy meaningfully.

"Bull's-eye. The Stable made contact with them. After a while, the roots of their crazy ideas took root in the Stable itself... It was dangerous to be there, especially when the supporters of different ideas were in conflict with each other, so I bailed."
"What were you in the Stable?"

"A guard."

"As I am now... Now I see why you reacted so calmly to our suspicions. You understand."

I nod. We reach the main gate, the gray unicorn approaching the brahmin paddock. There are about two dozen of brahmin in it. Roughly the same as in my world, but some are different in shade, others a different color altogether. We watch aimlessly as they leisurely chew the yellow grass, drink water, and eat food from the trough.

The guard sighs. She stands up so that her turquoise mane hides the emotion on her face. And she says, "Because of the impending attack and possible siege, we have to stock up on food and produce from local farms."

"Are you sure there will be a siege?"

"Honestly? I don't know... All I know is that the slave traders won't leave us that easily. We've remained neutral, but one unicorn got a shred of nobility up her ass and got us into this conflict."

"With whom?"

"With Red Eye."

This was unexpected. Crane told me that they were in conflict with Old Appleloosa. Or maybe Red Eye is the mayor of the city?

"By whom?"

"He is... How can I put it more simply... In a nutshell, he united the disparate factions of slave traders near Fillydelphia into one army." Fillydelphia. I remember the name from the map. It's east of here, near Sunny Bay, which is part of the Sapphire Sea. "It is gradually expanding its influence to the north, east and south, actively using slaves and promoting social equality. It's funny how it turns out, you're fleeing the West from the fanatics, and some are fleeing the Red Eye from the East. Are you sure you'd be better off here? What is your purpose in traveling?"

Unexpected question. I'm eager to find a way back home, and also to figure out how the fuck I ended up here.

"It's hard to answer. In a nutshell... I want to find my place of peace in life."

"Don't look for place of peace in here. If Hoofland is overrun with religious fanatics, the East Coast will soon be practically a state with a centralized slave trade. That hasn't happened in the Wasteland yet. I think so. I don't know much about what goes on to the south, beyond the Great Desert, but I doubt there's anything like that... or was. You should have gone straight south, along the West Coast, not east. The Great Deserts can only be bypassed along the West Coast and the East Coast. So, since you got that far east, you might as well try your luck and go south along the East Coast."

Useful information.

The Great Deserts. I remember that on the globe they cross the country from west to east in the widest part of the country. It's also too dangerous even by the standards of the Wasteland.

I wonder what kind of ideas this Red Eye promotes? The mare unicorn mentioned some kind of social equality, which immediately reminded me of the ideology of the countries that fought before the war with the United States. The USSR as a major country deflated in the twentieth century, and a similar ideology was already carried by the Chinese. But what does Red Eye have to do with Old Appleloosa? They were considered free slave traders, for the Crane said nothing of their connection to anything larger.

One of the brahmins moozes longingly.

"Then why did the city get into conflict with Red Eye?" I ask. "Old Appleloosa is a long way from Fillydelphia."

"Red Eye is expanding. He sends his representatives to other slave-trading groups and whole towns with a permitted slave trade, inviting them to join immediately, or at least trade with him. Many agree, as it is profitable. He pays well, access to resources and great opportunities. I am more than sure that he has set his tentacles into the bosom of Old Appleloosa, one of the great centers of the slave trade around here after all. If we are at war with Old Appleloosa... we're probably already at war with Red Eye."

I have some doubts about her. How does she know so much? The average wastelander doesn't know much about what's going on in the next town; he only cares about getting through another day in this harsh world.

"You know a lot about his plans, I see..."

"I used to live in Fillydelphia. I'm running from there, and it's... it's like it's reaching for me."

"Why?"

"My stallion... my special pony," she sighs bitterly, "was running a successful business. When Red Eye showed up with his ideas and fucking proposals, he joined him. I didn't like the fact that he was involved in such in the slave-trading business. Soon he started using slaves himself for various purposes. That was the last straw. I couldn't take it anymore, took the caps," she casts a glance at her energy-magic weapon, "bought myself some gear, took my three-year-old daughter and took off. Ended up getting here... and lived here all right for two years, but I guess I'll just have to move on."

"Because of the Red Eye expansion?"

"And because of him as well..." She lowers her voice, glancing faintly around. "But at some point I found out that this city had trade relations with Old Appleloosa. That is, they were involved in indulging in the slave trade by offering their services. By this they were in fact helping to practice their trade. And I realized that I should move on..."

"I see... What should I do now? Where do I go?"

"My advice... either return to the West and go south from there, or continue to the East Coast to bypass the Great Deserts there. There's nothing waiting for you here but a thriving slave trade."

"I'll keep that in mind."

We are silent. It gives me a chance to rethink what she said. And I remember the original reason I came here. My horn flickers blue, and from my pocket I retrieve a piece of metal with a number scratched out.

The gray unicorn turns and stares with purple eyes at the retrieved object.

"Are you going to leave town yet?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Not yet; I want to see if my gear is in one piece."

"I bet all your lead-spitting babies are in safe hooves."

"Still, I at least want to know where they're resting."

The guard takes the hint and leads me to the armory.

There is... nothing of interest here. Literally. They don't display their weapons. They're hidden under seven locks and seven protection spells. No thief can get to them. The armory is near the guards' barracks. It follows the same principle as I've seen before—soldered wagons stacked on top of each other.

To pick up my weapon, I have to go to the guard on duty in one of the wagons and show a piece of metal with a number on it.

"Name?" he asks.

"Daniel..." I answer slightly uncertainly. After a while it dawned on me that in addition to the license plate, they write down the name of who they issued it to. Doesn't help much against theft, but increases the burden on the thief.

I am escorted to the freight car where the guns are stored for safekeeping. Inside, the red freight car is littered with lockers and drawers. Approaching one of them, the officer on duty opens the metal locker, giving me access to my weapons.

At the sight of them, I now feel sensibly relieved.

"Shall we take them away? In that case, someone should be there to escort you to the exit."

"No need, just wanted to make sure everything was in place."

The pony on duty locks the locker and mutters something indignantly under his breath. We leave the freight car, he slides the door shut and locks it securely. I've picked enough locks for this to have the skill to judge their degree of security from sight. The gray unicorn has been accompanying me the whole time, so the pony on duty sees no need to stay to keep an eye on me and leaves. And why keep an eye on me? There are enough turrets with cameras to keep things safe.

"You simply wasted his time," the gray unicorn says to me. "Answer one... question, please."

"What is it?" I turn to her.

"I've noticed it before... when we were putting your babies in that locker, and it wasn't until now, after a second glance, that I remembered it. It surprised me that the shape didn't fit the pony at all."

Oh... Her powers of observation have caught me off guard. I never thought my weapons would seem completely unfamiliar to the locals. Nothing comes to mind, no decent answer. I am stumped.

"Let's just say," I smile, turning to her in a low voice, "you wouldn't want to know the origin of this weapon."

"Why not?" she asks. For the first time I can see the confusion in her eyes with a thin layer of fear.

"There's a reason for that. That knowledge won't do you any good anyway."

She gazes intensely into my eyes, pondering whether she should be persistent or reasonable and back off.

"Either way," she sighs, "I should get back to my duties. Let's get out of here."

The gray unicorn walks past me. I sigh softly, feeling relieved, and follow her.

I don't want to reveal who I really am for many reasons. I am not willing to reveal who I really am, for many reasons. Let them see me as a member of my own species... which I am physically considered to be, since I can control magic like a unicorn.

She's gone on her own business, and I'm alone near the Main Gate.

I realize now that I didn't get her name the whole time we were talking. And it doesn't matter. She wouldn't have told me her name anyway, not since she's on the run from Red Eye and since I didn't mention the origin of my weapon.

The legend about me being a guard from the Stable, wanting to avoid the religious fanatics, I see, went over well... even though I made it up as I went along. It will come in handy in the future.

***

I walk around and digest the information I have received from the guard.

At a certain point of reflection, I feel the need to rest and sit down on the first metal bench I can find. A lavender earth pony is already sitting on it, passionately reading some pre-war book. So young and already educated, using her reading skills to their full potential. Praise.

She looks at me indifferently, and as soon as she gets a better look, abruptly jumps up like a shot, and walks away in quick strides. A StealthBuck falls out of her bag onto the dry ground under the bench. I stare at it dumbfoundedly in surprise. It's like everything in my head is shaking. I remember this pony... I saw her the day before yesterday in the store. It's a shy pony. How could such a young pony have the caps for such an expensive treat?

Coming to my senses, I use magic to pick up the StealthBuck and run after the earth pony who lost it.

"Hey, you dropped something!" I yell after her.

She stops and takes a quick look around, wanting to keep running. What she see makes her completely turn around, and she runs in my direction to quickly grab it.

Terribly shy and timid, insistently avoiding eye contact, not saying anything. Am I that unpleasant to her? For some reason, though, she doesn't call out for help because a stranger has taken her precious possession.

I decide to hold off and not give her the StealthBuck right away.

"What's wrong with you?" I lift it high enough that she can't reach it. "Oh, calm down, will you? I'll give it to you. Just calm down."

A few failed attempts apparently force her to realize her helplessness before the unicorn. The lavender pony stops and stares into the ground beneath her hooves.

"Good. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

There is a sepulchral silence. Not a sound. She doesn't even seem to be breathing.

"What's wrong? Is there something wrong with me?"

She shakes her head negatively.

"So why are you embarrassed by me?"

Her body tenses.

"So tell me, why are you avoiding me? What have I done to you?"

She slowly lifts her gaze and the next second she lowers it. In that instant I've had time to make out her face: she looks extremely ashamed and... guilty?

What had she learned about me that made her react to me this way? Really, it's not like she found out about my incident with Bluerise.

That... would explain her behavior. Still, how does hearing about something I was involved in make others so uncomfortable? Unless...

My gaze slowly focuses on StealthBuck. An overheard conversation in a bar between two mares comes to mind...

...I want you to fill me with kisses like that between my thighs.

If we had a StealthBuck, I'd do it right here...

That's an interesting way to use a device like that. It has come to my attention many times in the past that Stealth Boys have been used for the purpose of peeping...

The puzzle is adding up.

The realization of this egregious event makes me want to fall through the ground beneath my hooves.

Is she really...

I make a volitional effort to keep my composure and not draw a premature conclusion.

No, it's too far-fetched. It can't be. It just can't be. It shouldn't. I need to be sure of that!

"I won't do anything to you..." I say softly and decide to turn this into a joke. I need to see her reaction to my hypothesis. "Even if you were peeping at me."

Her body feels like it's being pierced by a shock. She twitches frightened and looks like a petrified statue.

Oh... Scaring cactuses with my ass... She saw it!

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Her confused face lifts up at me. Her gaze still avoids direct contact.

"Looks like I accidentally hit the bull's-eye..."

I lift my gaze to the sky and sigh.

"Look... I really won't do anything to you for what you saw. What's more, I promise not to tell anyone." Not even Bluerise: she wouldn't stand for it if she knew anyone had seen us together in bed. Especially by young. "If you tell about what happened then... When it was a rainy night."

She looks me in the face for the first time. I try to look as friendly and welcoming as possible. However, she still hides her guilty and embarrassed look. She drives her hoof on the hard ground with such concentration, as if she's deriving some new mathematical formula that promises a huge breakthrough in science.

"I agree," I continue, "the situation that occurred is awkward, but there's nothing fatal or catastrophic about it. How did this even happen?"

"I... I..." she utters in a quiet, frightened voice. "I-I-I was looking in ad-dult magazines..."

Оh... now I see how she could have gotten into the Bluerise number wagon. Is that why she ordered a StealthBuck?

"And that's why you need a StealthBuck?"

"N-no, I... w-was just trying to avoid the c-constant oversight of my guard once in a while. All the time around me..."

"Personal security... are you from a rich family?"

A different kind of fear runs through her eyes. For own life. It is only in this situation, when alone, that she realizes the usefulness of having guards. She could be kidnapped and held for ransom or blackmailed by her parents.

"Just wondering: where do you get the caps for this pleasure?"

Her voice trembles, she stutters with worry that makes me feel sorry for her, "My p-parents are in charge of the Alliance of New Appleloosa Farmers. ANAF. They g-gave me caps for small expenses... and I saved them up to order a StealthBuck."

The chance of spitting in the sky and accidentally hitting a bird is higher than meeting a person so important to the city, alone, without security. Her guards should keep a better eye on her. The young mind does not yet fully understand that the city with which her parents cooperate actually hides many threats. What she's been driven to by such strict security... I'm guessing they almost follow her into the bathroom. I'd go crazy if that were the case, too.

It wouldn't be out of place if I try to ease the tense atmosphere of such... awkward and unusual encounter with a simple question.

"What does the ANAF do?"

However, I'm already guessing roughly what the answer will be. Farmers band together and supply the nearest town, and the town responds by giving them what they cannot supply themselves with. The conditional agreement is not an exchange of caps, but an exchange of services or resources.

The pony does begin to feel better and calmer, which is noticeable in her voice.

"Distributes farm food to the needs of the city. In exchange, they get basic medical and maintenance services, protection, some materials, and supplies for other essentials like clothing and water."

"Hmmm. Expected. So... why did you stay in the railroad car when me and that pony walked in there drunk?"

"You were blocking my way... And I was afraid to open the door, I thought you'd notice."

"Oh, that's why the door was left unlocked." I thought Bluerise had forgotten to lock it. "You mean you saw the whole thing?

She's frightened into silence. I gently and reassuringly place my hoof on her shoulder, she swallows nervously.

"Y-yes..." she says.

"And what did we do?"

"Well... um... First, that mare took a bath. You helped her rub her back... then under your belly..." at these words she goes quiet.

"...it got hard and the mare's mouth made it soft again?" I suggest. Took a bath... rubbed her back... Naturally, I could not remain ignorant of the wet body. I still wonder how my attraction to wet women's bodies migrated to an attraction to the wet bodies of mares...

I abruptly cut myself off from inappropriate and dirty images. They don't fit at all right now.

"Yes..." she replies, not knowing how to respond to my interpretation of Bluerise's actions.

"And then?" I ask.

No thoughts of wet bodies... No thoughts of wet bodies...

"Then you took a bath yourself... and you went to the bed... There you put your face against hers..."

No thoughts of wet crotches... No thoughts of wet crotches...

"I get it where," I feel my strained smile all wrong, crooked as the crinkle of a brain. Bluerise in this situation would have experienced a much more vivid experience from the young mare's words than I did. "Let's move on."

"And... then you... lurched up behind... But before that she used some kind of ointment."

"Contraceptive," I explains. Bluerise made it clear unequivocally what it was for.

"Yeah..."

"You left after we fell asleep?"

"Yes..."

I imagine her in this situation... A piquant and arousing sight, moans of pleasure and wet sounds. Stallion and mare satisfying each other... A young pony, transitional age, hormones bubbling... She couldn't stay indifferent to it all. I couldn't resist asking a provocative question that might have made me choke with shame myself.

"And did you enjoy what you saw?"

Her emotions shift so quickly that it's hard to tell exactly what she's feeling.

"Y... No! I mean... I just..."

"Oh relax," I laugh good-naturedly. She's having a harder time than I am right now. I need to stop mocking her. "If I were in your shoes and at your age, I wouldn't be able to resist that temptation either. I'll be honest, I don't particularly like being peeped at, but now we're looking at it after the fact, so I'm not mad at you. It just happened... but you didn't take anything from that freight car, did you?"

"No!" she replies without hesitation.

"Good girl. You know, I used to be pretty curious myself. I still am. Your attention to it is natural, especially at that age. If you keep peeking, be careful what you do. Almost all ponies don't like it when someone meddles in their private life after all. You didn't want anyone peeking at you, did you?"

She nods understandingly.

"You're a good pony. What happened was just an accident. Don't blame yourself. Just don't steal other people's stuff and..." I lower her StealthBuck, "...keep a close eye on your things."

"Okay..." She hesitantly grabs it with her front legs, and confusedly shoves it into her bag.

"If anyone asks what I was talking to you about, you tell them I was wondering what the ANAF does. I'm from far away."

She nods again. She's not interested in where I'm from. All she cares about now is that this conversation is over.

"And don't run away from your guards again, or who's looking out for you? You're worth a lot more than that StealthBuck, okay?"

The lavender pony nods slightly fearfully.

"Now go. Don't make the others worry."

For the next hour, I try with titanic effort to accept the fact that Bluerise and I were willfully spied on by a young lady. And she was also enjoying...

Fucking hell!

***

I spend the rest of the day lying in my compartment reading Wasteland Survival Guide, admiring the amusing and sometimes hilarious illustrative explanations. There are even 'blueprints'... or should I say, instructions for making primitive weapons. It's far from a Shishkebab or Railway rifle, but at least some means of self-defense this book offers, which is already a good thing.

The 25th of the Month of the Linden, Greenday. Sixth day of my stay.

The next day I set out to find Rusty. He needs to find a decent home where he'll be well taken care of and helped with his problems. I go to see Bluerise and the other two caravans. I learn from the other residents that they have set up at the entrance to the city, displaying The Porcupine trophies and other of their goods for sale.

Bluerise is all busy and peddling merchandise. Lots of people have gathered, some coming from the farms for new tools and other useful things, if such things can be found. Juice is busy, and only Dash has free time to have a word with me.

"Good morning," she smiles at me. I have to stand up to her so I can hear her voice over the noise of the ponies around me. Among these ponies I even notice Crane, who is looking out for interesting things to do.

"Hi... How's the trade going?"

"Awesome."

"That's good to hear..." I glance again at the merchandise on display on the carriages. A spiky trailer made from half a car is also for sale. "How long will you be here?"

"Until we sell everything... We'll lift the caps and get ourselves some better gear."

"Sounds great."

"It sure does!"

"What I'm here for... do you know where Rusty is? I need to talk to him."

"I saw him about an hour ago on that train car over there." I trace my gaze to where she's pointing. There's no one on the roof of the wagon. "And now, as you can see, he's lost again somewhere."

"Well... I'll turn around here for a while, see if he comes back. If not, I'll go looking for him. If he shows up, tell him to go to my compartment."

"No problem."

"Well... good luck."

"Yeah, bye."

After standing around for about twenty minutes and observing the behavior of the arguing ponies, I go looking for Rusty.

***

"...no wonder why you left him," one mare with green hues says. She bears a striking resemblance to the mare whose brother at the bar was trying to find company for the evening. But it certainly wasn't her.

"Stallions don't know how to handle mares in bed," the second pony of the lettuce color continues. "Only mares understand each other and know what to do... Especially you."

They giggle and rub their noses lovingly. Almost immediately, one of them turns her attention to me.

"Hey... Are you eavesdropping on us?"

"I was just passing by..." I say to the two ponies sitting on the shabby passenger seats that serve as a sort of bench. "Looking for a brown foal with a straw mane. Have you seen one?"

"Nope."

"No, we haven't."

"Sorry to bother you."

They don't continue their conversation, and here I am at a long distance from them, at which I can no longer hear them.

The conversation between the two ponies leads me to some thoughts. The stallions I meet are noticeably rarer than the mares. The green pony from the bar who lay down with her brother and then the occasional mare... The two ponies complain about inept stallions in terms of bedding... It all comes down to my understanding that most mares are bisexual.

Stallions have a greater choice of potential mates... but at the same time there's a lot more competition, not only from other stallions, but also from mares. They understand the desires of the other mare better than stallions do.

It's a good thing I'm not from this world... One more reason not to stay here.

***

I walk past the guard barracks, which is a passenger carriage. At one of its entrances, at a table with drinks and smoking cigarettes sit two stallions. One is younger and the other is older.

"Don't you get tired of dragging yourself from one town to another?" the older stallion asks.

"Nah. I want to see as many mares as possible. Get to know as many as I can."

"Why?"

"Because it's cool and enjoyable, a bright experience. Each mare offers something unique. Each has her own tricks."

"Do you want to be alone in your old age?"

"I'd at least like to live to see that time." He sips a beer from his mug. "Every day could be my last. Long-term relationships are time-consuming, so they're not profitable. It's like saving up your caps for something for years. Over the years you can be stolen ten times, sold into slavery, killed... There are too many threats getting in the way of a peaceful life. It is necessary to enjoy life while I can. Make the most of it. Live for today, for tomorrow may never come."

"Your words make sense... but sooner or later you're going to end up somewhere. Some mare's gonna get you for sure. Make you think of yourself."

The young holds out a short pause.

"That's not likely to happen." he says. "I've tasted a lot of apples from a lot of different apple trees... I doubt I'd want to stay near one apple tree for the rest of my life after that."

The older stallion shakes his head.

"The words of a young, seed-filled stallion. Grow up, it'll blow out of your brain, and you'll change your mind."

"Look," he smiles, "I'll only be glad to live many years and live to be your age when my opinion changes. These are dangerous times..." there is a sense of concern in his voice. "Rumors of Red Eye and his rapidly spreading empire... We need to run far away."

"Usually slave traders do whatever they want with slaves... if you know what I mean. I thought you'd be interested in the opposite."

"You have a bad opinion of me. You can't get creative from a victim of enforcement. I'm an adept at sharing my experience voluntarily..."

I can't hear them any more as I turn the corner.

Where the hell is Rusty? It's a big city, and it's hard to find him.

I decide to climb the wall and walk around. Beyond the wall, on the other side of the city, is an impersonal and dreary plain. The Wasteland, dry grass, isolated protruding rocks and stones. The view is depressing.

As I walk, I see a stallion and a unicorn talking ahead of me. I slow my pace.

"...What makes you think I'm going to change my mind this time? I told you I won't," the mare says.

"Well, give me a chance," the stallion insists.

"I told you I don't have time for this."

"Come on..." he tosses nonchalantly.

"No," she says categorically.

"Do you know how much it hurts for a stallion to be turned down?" he sighs.

"Equally as much as it hurts a mare... Look, I told you I can't. All my free time now is devoted to studying the spell book I recently received."

Recently?

"I can help you," the stallion offers excitedly, as if he's grasping at straws.

Did Juice really tell me exactly about this spell book when she left Ditzy Doo?

"You're not a unicorn."

"I... well..." he says in a puzzled voice, "I'll support you and cheer you up."

"You'll only interfere."

"I won't."

"You're already interfering with my patrol."

"I'm sorry..." he says with a guilty look and shuts up.

There is a brief pause. The mare sighs dolefully.

"You're not a bad stallion, but I really don't have time for this."

"That's what you all say when you say no," he mutters.

"But if you want to get laid, you'd better go to a bar and look there."

"I told you, I want more than that... I mean, we've known each other so long."

"Red Eye is breathing down our necks. It's risky to think of a quiet family life. I can't waste my time on relationships, I'm sorry. I'd... better get on with my studies..."

She steps quickly in my direction and passes me without noticing me, as if I were under a stealth field.

I walk toward the stallion.

"What, no luck asking her out?" I ask.

He pays attention to me, but is silent.

"You shouldn't get hung up on one..." I begin.

"I don't need your sympathy," he grinds his teeth and interrupts me. His voice oozes irritation, and he aims his piercing and sullen gaze at me. "And your advice. You're a pain in the ass. Everyone knows how to give advice. So can I. Leave me alone!"

I press my lips together thoughtfully and anxiously and decide that I shouldn't interfere after all. He's clearly not in the mood right now. Either he doesn't want to think about it, which my encouraging words would only hinder.

I wonder... if I hadn't intervened and saved Bluerise and the others, this guard wouldn't have been able to get her spell book and learn something in her spare time... Would she have agreed to develop a relationship with this stallion then? The overall conclusion of one of the consequences of my intervention sounds twofold: I saved several caravaners at the cost of a potential relationship between this stallion and the guard who had just left. Better not tell him that I indirectly contributed to her rejection.

"And anyway," he adds, "this is not a walking area. You'd better leave the wall."

***

The unsuccessful search for Rusty drains me, and I'm exhausted. I go to the dining area 'Big Carrot'. There I have a hearty lunch and drink a decent amount of water from the condensing device.

The music from the radio on alternates with the incredibly familiar chatter of the local DJ... Pon3. And nostalgic memories of my first time in the Wasteland, in Megaton, and of Three Dog overwhelm me so much that I even skip most of his speech. I feel a kind of deja vu: when I felt the fear of the Wasteland when I first came to the surface and heard Three Dog speaks, I feel something similar now, but to the new world. True, I was with Brisa then, which mitigated my frightening experience.

Being immersed in my nostalgic memories, occasional phrases like 'Out of the Stable' come to my ears without context... 'The Porcupines', 'New Appleloosa', and 'ponies with glowing red eyes'. That last one pulls me out of the depths of thoughtfulness.

"...That sounds funny. Red Eyes. Yeah, that's what I'm going to call him. Let Red Eye feel envy, for this pony has two red eyes. Red Eyes, give him some competition. That's the end of the interesting news. This is DJ Pon3 with you. Always keep an eye on your rear."

The red visors of my helmet serve as the basis for the teasing of a local celebrity, the head of a fledgling empire. I can't help but smile... But then I feel fear: I have attracted attention.

Oh, fuck!

Now I could be in trouble. Perhaps, in an attempt to avenge The Porcupines, I will be hunted. Or Red Eye's ponies will seek me out... to gain favor with their leader for eliminating a pony with a similar nickname.

Damn that DJ... Now I've been publicly dragged into what happened at Old Appleloosa. Fucking awesome. I have nothing to add. Glad the DJ at least didn't spill details about my appearance. The helmet with the distinctive red visors... It should be worn with extreme caution, for which thanks to this DJ.

The next realization, like a slap in the face, sends my train of thought in a different direction.

Out of the Stable... Could this be the local hero or heroine? The resemblance to me and the The Vault Dweller makes me chuckle, which draws my attention to myself. Noticing this, I hold back the rest of my laughter and retreat to my compartment in railroad car. This is too much for me. I feel like... I'm just in a coma, and all my memories have been affected by that strange sphere, all mixed up.

Not to think of such hypotheses, as it is a guaranteed path to obsession, and then to madness. The best distraction is to read Wasteland Survival Guide.

"Were you looking for me?" a studly voice comes from behind me as I approach the door of my compartment suite.

I turn around and see the familiar brown foal with the straw mane I've been looking for half the day. I have forgotten this after that crushing radio show, so my answer is simple and unambiguous.

"Yes."

The colt answers not immediately, "Why?"

His slowness causes me to focus on him completely.

"Wanted to talk."

A pause.

"About what?"

"Let's... Let's go to my compartment and talk about it."

He endures pauses as my regret for him grows. I remember the horrors he's endured, what makes him act so... aloof, as if life doesn't concern him.

I open the door and wait for the colt to come through first. He sits down quietly by the window and stares thoughtfully out the window, as if no one is near him.

"I wanted to talk about where to put you. Do you know anyone?"

His silence lingers, prompting me to call him out.

"Rusty?"

"Huh?" he looks at me aloof.

"Do you know anyone who might have custody of you?"

His gaze goes down, a pause again.

"I don't."

"Do yours..." I press my lips together in indecision. I don't really want to remember them, but I have no other choice. "Did your... parents had them?"

Once again the silence lingers, but I can see that he is focused on our conversation. At the same time, he has a hard time remembering his parents without agonizing longing and aching pain, judging by the facial expressions on his face.

"Dad had someone. Tenpony Tower."

The name sounds familiar... the same one I'd seen on the drawn map. How funny it sounds. Almost like Tenpenny Tower. It's an upscale place. I think they even have child psychologists there to help him. I hope this acquaintance has the covers to pay for the sessions. Better than here... Also Red Eye is close by. It should be safe in that tower.

"What was his name?"

"Lucky... or something."

"Unusual name."

The colt is silent and says nothing. There must be a lot of interesting information about the world in the tower... books... if it is a rich and luxurious place. It's the next place I should go after New Appleloosa.

"Do you want me to take you there?" I ask.

The pauses make the conversation feel so slow and dragging. The flow of time seems to have slowed down, too.

"I don't care."

"I understand that it's not easy for you... You need time to come to your senses. Do you like it here?"

"I don't know."

"And Tenpenny Tower?"

After a few seconds, he utters, "Tenpony."

"I misspoke... Yes, Tenpony Tower. You'll be safer there than here, and more likely to get help."

"Why?"

"You have your whole life ahead of you to find your answer. Your parents' acquaintance lives in such a luxurious place, you can't pass him up. There are even more options to occupy yourself... unlike these ragged railroad cars." And to emphasize my words, I glance around my compartment.

"I'll think about it."

"Good. Do you... want some lunch?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Well... then I'll read here. You can stay if you want."

I was so passionately immersed in reading that I forgot Rusty existed. For the umpteenth time today. How inconspicuous his breathing was...

"Well?" I ask, taking a break from reading. My eyes hurt, they need rest. I twitch my head and blink my eyes well.

"Yeah... I'll go."

I knead my frozen neck and legs with pleasure.

"Great!" I exclaim in a cheerful tone. Things have moved on. "Then we move out tonight. Less chance of being spotted. And for night travel, we have the advantage." I tap my Pip-Boy, hinting at the enemy detection system, and my red visor helmet.