Fallout: Equestria - Parallelism

Both unicorns stare at me in a stupor. They blink in surprise, as if Princess Celestia had suddenly appeared in front of them and yelled at them and told them to fuck off and disappeared.

"You know..." the blue-haired one is the first to regain her power of speech, "when you said that I wouldn't believe you, I was expecting to hear something else."

"Like what?"

"Well... that you're Red Eye's brother, who wants revenge on him. And has come to ask DJ for help."

I can't help but chuckle. That would be an interesting story.

"Sounds really crazy," I add.

"An alien from another world. Sounds just as crazy," the brown-haired one reminds me. The blue-haired one nods and smiles.

"Are you sure you're all right in the head?"

"Well... I got shot in the head once. That's why I can't answer your question."

The blue-haired unicorn laughs.

"Stop fooling around. Yes, you have a strange cap and necklace depicting a creature unknown to me. But... It's a big world. Tartarus has been teeming with horrible and strange creatures since before the war. So none of this is a guarantee of your words."

As expected.

"Then... how can I change your two minds?"

"Good question..." she sinks into thought. After a few seconds, she shrugs. "I have no idea. It's the kind of thing I haven't thought about. Let's assume that you really are from another world. Let's start by settling the formalities. My name is Homage. And this toaster repairpony's name is Littlepip."

"Daniel Evans. Nice to meet you. I'd shake your hand if I could."

"Shake what?"

"I wasn't a pony, I was a bipedal creature. Two legs and two arms. Imagine... that ponies walk on two legs, and five small spurs appeared on their free front legs, like dry sausages. They bend and unbend... It's all for easy grasping."

Littlepip crinkles like she's swallowed a lemon. She didn't like what she imaged. Homage is amused by the image presented.

"I can only assume it looks like the paw of a griffon or a Hellhound."

"I haven't seen them, so I don't know. Only Ditzy Doo's doodles in Wasteland Survival Guide."

"Anyway... what's the question you came to see DJ about?"

"Given my background, I have a ton of questions. About Equestria, the Great War, and what's going on in the Wasteland right now. Like who's on the pedestal, who's under it, who are the victims, who are the pawns, that sort of thing. Well, and tell me where to start my search so I can get home."

"DJ isn't the walking encyclopedia of the Equestrian Wasteland."

"Yes, he's a busy personality seeking the truth, and therefore still knowledgeable and even erudite... Can I get his attention?"

"Still secretive. All conversations with him go through me."

"Does sex with his groupies go through you, too?"

Homage openly chuckles, and the gray unicorn with a PipBuck stands bewildered and dismissive of me. She has a strange reaction... as if she doesn't like vulgarity. Or maybe it's something else.

"Definitely," she plays along with me. "Mares are just my type."

I sigh annoyed, "Too bad. I'm just the stallion type... I'd like to give him a passionate hello through you."

"Sounds contradictory if you're not bisexual," she giggles. I don't hold back and giggle following her.

She has a good sense of humor! She's an interesting person. Too bad about the mares... if that's true. In any case, talking to her now is already a pleasure.

"The DJ's not here right now anyway, so we'll continue the conversation in his studio."

"I wanted to talk to him in person. It's sad... but it can't be helped. Lead on."

***

A spacious room that is littered with sound and recording equipment: microphones, terminals, speakers, tape reels, sound recorders, vinyl records, and so on. One wall is dotted with screens depicting various parts of the Wasteland in real time. The landscape and climate is different everywhere. So the cameras are spaced far apart.

"Impressive," I say, sitting humanly on a couch. My hind legs are spread and dangling down, my front legs are spread apart and on the back. This position is terribly uncomfortable in a pony's body—I change it. I sit with my croup on the cushion of the dark red sofa, which doesn't match the color of my navy blue outfit at all.

"Why did you want to sit any other way?" Littlepip asks me. The second unicorn went to the kitchen for sweets and chamomile tea.

"I used to like to sprawl out on the couch like that sometimes. It's easier in a human body."

"Again... it's hard to believe a story like that."

"And I don't need to. I'm here for answers. A DJ with this kind of equipment," I nod toward the screens, "has to know a lot of things."

"And you think," Homage appears with a tray in his telekinetic grip, "he'll think you're worth his attention? All-encompassing questions like that take a long time to fully answer."

She sets out newly baked sweets and soft drinks on the table. Instead of Nuka-Cola, her carrot version is Sparkle-Cola, which I don't particularly like. I take chamomile tea and muffin.

I liked the Ditzy Doo muffins. I hope these turn out to taste good too.

I take a bite, taste it, and drink the chamomile tea. It's not bad, it's okay to eat.

"I'm not talking to him, anyway. Why are you both paying attention to me?"

"I'll be interested to hear what you make up about the other world. After all, that's something you don't see very often. Maybe you have a rich imagination and the potential to be a good storyteller," she says and laughs.

I thoughtfully swallow another mixture of muffin and chamomile tea. What can I tell her that will make her believe me... My gaze wanders aimlessly over all the sound equipment that's here. Microphones, recording reels, cameras... Cameras. Right. They should keep the recordings long enough given the sheer number of 'coffins' designed for them.

"What about the cameras?"

"What about them?" Homage asks. Littlepip, I understand, prefers to remain silent. She's watching our conversation and enjoying the sweets with warm milk.

"Why not check them out and make sure I showed up in one place out of nowhere."

"Even if I don't see you there, it won't prove that you moved here from another world. Yes, those cameras can be rotated in different directions, but even with their wide view, I only have... about five percent of the view of the whole of Equestria."

"I see..."

"I could go to the ponies that live in this Tower, check your memories and see if what you say is true. It would be easier that way..."

Uh-oh! In this world, it's possible to view other people's memories? That's... wow... how many possibilities! Judging others for their transgressions and checking them for the truth is so much easier! And... that's a great idea! What a time-saver. I won't have to explain myself in front of two unicorns.

I enthusiastically walk over to the surprised blue-haired 'secretary' of the DJ.

"So, what are we waiting for? Let's go..." I say, putting the half-drunk chamomile tea and the half-eaten muffin on the table. I'm on my way out of the studio when the unicorn calls out to me.

"This is going to take too long, though," she says with amazement. Apparently, she didn't expect me to agree so quickly, and also with such an initiative.

Wait... Was she bluffing? Did she mean what she said about being able to look through other people's memories? I chose not to say anything about it, and turned to the unicorn in confusion.

"From the way you reacted..." she looks shocked. "I thought you'd start looking for an excuse to dodge seeing your memories... It turns out you really..."

Littlepip looks no less shocked. She may not have known about her friend's ruse, but my reaction also convinced her of the truth of my situation of my background.

"I wouldn't believe it, either, if I were you," I say, returning to the couch and the chamomile tea sweets. "So... what do you want to ask me? What are you curious about my world?"

***

Brief descriptions about humanity, the world order, physics, and the lack of magic. This is what I have told her for twenty minutes to understand the differences in the structure of our worlds. They listen attentively, but I can see from their faces that they remember almost nothing. It was as if they were being told a long, dry exposition from some second-rate book with a fictional universe.

"Our post-war worlds are similar in terms of interactions," I continue. "Everything I learned in New Appleloosa, from the posters, from Wasteland Survival Guide, from the talks of the Tenpony Tower... It all resembles my world—with a few differences I mentioned earlier. Humans were the only intelligent race of living beings, and there was no magic as such. Except in books... and even there it existed by different rules."

"Wow... I still can't think that I believe in all this and that I'm really communicating with a representative from another world. How did you get here?" Hot curiosity bubbles up inside Homage like water from a burst pipe.

I recount to her the events in the cave, from the strange sensation to the unusual glowing orb.

"I've never heard of anything like that," Homage mutters. "Have you?" she turns to Littlepip. She shakes her head negatively in response.

"I haven't been here long myself."

"Ah... right..." the DJ's secretary says. I reappear as a major source of interest to her gaze. "Tell me... what was it like when you became a pony?"

"It was... At first I thought I had undergone a mutation never before seen because of that bizarre sphere. The feeling... my body felt like it wasn't mine. Imagine trying on new clothes. Your skin feels uncomfortable. And a similar discomfort felt all over your body."

"You've been in this body for eighteen days. Used to it, I suppose?"

"To a certain degree. I can move around without a problem, but as for reflexive actions... Grasping with my hand, stroking, groping... I'm still getting used to telekinesis."

"So you started controlling telekinesis right away?" Littlepip asks.

"No... I didn't even know it existed. Crane helped me with it."

"Ah..." the smaller unicorn smiles. "He... He taught me something, too. With your... request with magic, you didn't arouse his suspicion?"

"No. I said I slipped and bumped my horn painfully while singing in the shower," I say. Homage bursts into laughter.

"I can imagine that picture," she adds. Littlepip chuckles lowly. "What did you tell him next?"

"And, not to make matters worse with potential trauma, I wanted to look around before I used magic. Start with the most basic manipulation, the basics of magic."

Littlepip nods commendably.

"Not bad... I'd believe it."

"Thank you."

"And one more question... About your body. Did you already have a cutie mark when you turned into a pony?"

"I guess. I noticed it a few days later when I got a chance to see my... butt."

She presses her lips together grudgingly.

"Uh..." she exhales irritably. "Envy!"

"Why is that?"

"To get a cutie mark just like that! With no effort at all! It's every foal's dream."

Rusty's squeaking and jumping for joy appears in my head.

"I see..." I say. "One colt already explained to me what's what when he got the cutie mark himself."

"What colt?" Homage asks, remembering that she has a voice.

"Rusty... He, by the way, has a flair for guitar playing and theatrical performances."

"Wow! Rare these days."

"Right. So it would be cool if you could contribute his talents."

"Absolutely. Who did you leave him with?"

"His new adoptive father. Night Snow."

"Good. I'll keep that in mind. As for your case..."

"Yes," Littlepip joins in. "Turning into a pony... the appearance of the cutie mark. That doesn't sound like an accident."

"Definitely not an accident," Homage continues. "On its own in our world, one non-species doesn't turn into another. Hay... You can't even do it intentionally. The magic is too complex for ordinary unicorns. Do you understand that?"

"I guess. I've been to the store with the spell books. And I don't recall anything in there having anything to do with transformation or even imitation."

"Exactly. There are only myths about it. A species can be enhanced or modified, as the Goddess does with the Alicorns, but to transform into another species, and yet so precisely and thoroughly... I think it was even beyond the capabilities of Princess Celestia and Luna."

"Then who?"

"Find someone to ask," the blue-haired pony snorts mockingly. "It's been said that Discord has been dabbling in something like this for over a thousand years for his own amusement, but the effects of such changes are temporary."

"Well... what about before opening portals to another world? Was he capable of that?"

"I have no idea," she shrugs. "I haven't studied that much history about him. It's entirely possible that it's all fiction. He's more of a myth than a real historical figure. Personality... Strong word. More like a chaotic and unpredictable being. Yes, exactly."

"Then... what should I do? Where do I look for information?"

"I can say with certainty that I know of no such thing."

"This is the pre-war center of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences," I say, circling the sound equipment room with my front hoof. I sense a growing unease. "There's got to be something in here..."

"Sorry. I can't help it. There really isn't what you're looking for. Besides, this is only one of the many centers of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences. Try your luck at the other centers..."

"I'll spend a lot of time on this," I mutter.

Fucking easy. I'll have to look around all the centers to find information about portals to other worlds. Not only is it my understanding that this kind of research wasn't common in pre-war times, but it's not even certain that in two hundred years it has survived.

"Well, you can at least start somewhere... Oh, I remember. Princess Luna, during her reign, set up her own centers for better communication between Ministries."

"For what?"

"Since their creation, they've been less and less willing to cooperate with each other. Almost no sharing of developments, more and more competition. Corporations. Luna thus tried to improve coordination between them and with the smaller corporations. For example, to effectively introduce new technology, or to join forces if two research departments from different Ministries or some corporations are doing the same experiments."

"Interesting way," I say. "But... there has to be a level of secrecy there, too. Security and all that, so that the developments won't be known to the enemies of pre-war Equestria."

"Rest assured, the security there is impressive. Even a dragon can't handle it."

"And you want me to try to break into a place like that. You want me dead?"

"Well... don't be so dramatic," Homage smiles. "In two hundred years, most protective systems without the supervision of proper personnel should have degraded, shut down, or malfunctioned."

"What if there's an automatic repair system that involves robots?"

"They are not omnipotent, and their algorithms and behavior programs have needed updating for two hundred years. Delays in response, targeting errors, and so on."

"Who knows... this magical world is new to me, and I don't know its limitations. What I do know so far is that my transformation into a pony is defined as mystical—because no one else can pull off something like that."

"We're out of sweets," Littlepip pronounces. Her comment was so out of place that Homage and I look at her simultaneously in mild surprise. "What?" she asks. "I know about pre-war history. I'm not interested."

"Oh, well." Homage gets up and heads to the kitchen. "I'll get some more."

"And I thought our conversation had come to an end," I say.

"Nah, you're not getting out of here that easy. I want to know your Way in the Wasteland."

I collapse dolefully on the back of the couch.

"What makes you think it would be interesting?" I throw after her tiredly.

"No idea." She's out of sight, only her voice coming through. "It just feels that way."

***

One of the many screens that broadcast images from the surveillance cameras shows caravans constantly passing by: some carriages and wagons pulled by brahmins, others by ponies; others, less frequently seen, by cars and other vehicles on their own wheels.

Definitely the vicinity of Baltimare is near one of the caravan routes.

The other camera is somewhere near a railroad track that runs deep into the bare and desolate plain. A massive sandstorm can be seen in the distance.

The Great Deserts—with huge underworld creatures. I wonder if I'll get to see them on the cameras.

Littlepip sits quietly in silence, apparently watching me stare into the screens and hope to see something fascinating. What a handy thing it is, after all. Watching what's going on in the Wasteland from a safe place. Watching... Watcher. He has a similar reconnaissance... resource.

Does DJ know about Watcher? If so, is there some kind of competition or hostility between them?

Unicorn's hoofsteps come in.

"Your DJ is cheating," I tell her, just as she sets down the tray with another serving of candy and milk. Of course, I immediately take them to sample. There's no telling when I'll get a chance to try the newly baked sweets. Besides, sugar helps restore unicorn magic.

"I beg your pardon?"

I give my apple pie a good chew and wash it down with my tea.

"Well, in my world, one DJ, Three Dog, like your DJ, doesn't have that kind of network of surveillance cameras. He is, as he told me, 'listening.' In other words, settles for rumors, which, oddly enough, were relatively true, but often vague and ambiguous."

"So Pon3 is cooler than that Three Dog," Homage smiles. "Wait. Such a Pon3? Now that's even more interesting."

"Yeah. He owns the," I prepare to say with as much pride and solemnity as Three Dog himself would say, "Galaxy News Radio!"

"Funny name," Littlepip chuckles, covering his mouth with his hoof.

Oh... How pleasant and fun those meetings were. It was a pleasure to chat, joke, and have fun with him.

"Based on your smile," Homage says, "you made good friends with your DJ."

"You bet. I turned to him often for information, as many prospectors and mercenaries do. Information in exchange for information. Does Pon3 often get approached about it?"

"Only in exceptional cases. Otherwise, there are quite a few specialists in the Tenponн Tower itself for that purpose."

"I'm looking at these screens here and realizing that there are cameras scattered all over the Equestrian Wasteland. How does DJ manage such a staggering flood of information?"

"He's not working alone. There are two dozen other radio hosts in different parts of the Wasteland. Some even compete with each other for an audience and argue if they work in the same area. Most of them are around Baltimare."

"I've already heard that it's the main mall in the Wasteland. So how does Pon3 work with them? What format does it take?"

"He doesn't interfere in their business. At times he helps resolve controversial points. Conflicting information, unreliable source, and so on," Homage says, making a circular motion with his front foot.

I set the empty cup on the table. With satiety, I lazily stroke my belly under my blue outfit.

So much sweetness at once... I wish nothing would stick together down there.

"Well," I look up at Littlepip. "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What our blue-haired secretary does, I already figured out. Helps DJ in his business. Trades information, in general, and screens out any rabble that wants an audience. What do you do?"

The unicorn with PipBuck are stumped by this question. I can tell by the pensive and confused look on her face that she can't formulate a coherent answer. Homage instead gives the most succinct answer I've ever heard, "Being a hero." She turns to the heroine with an intoxicated pleasure.

Everything falls into place. A resident of an underground bunker, recently on the surface, wearing PipBuck... is famous for something and... in a committed relationship with a DJ... or his secretary. The Equestrian world is similar to mine in everything. Even my story, I see, already has a local equivalent.

The famous resident of the underground bunker.

As Littlepip burned with embarrassment and irritation, I tried to come to my senses from another bout of shock.

I'm beginning to see the young pony with the brown mane differently. Still, it's hard to believe she could have done Old Appleloosa, a favorite place for bandits and slave-traders.

"It's funny how such a little thing can be a walking problem. "

"You can't imagine what kind," Homage chuckles. "She managed to kill an adult dragon!"

That's an interesting nickname for a stern and deadly mercenary. Was he using some kind of special flamethrower? Or was he a unicorn that could create streams of flame with his magical powers alone?

Littlepip burns with embarrassment. Homage stares at me, never taking her eyes off me. Is she studying my reaction?

One second of silence.

Another second.

Third...

Wasteland Survival Guide: 'They live on Lava Island and in the north of the neighboring continent. Dangerous, huge as a multi-story house, and greedy for gems. They breathe fire like a spit. Though they live far away, a few individuals may be hiding here. If you happen to encounter them... I recommend you do nothing but run and pray!'

I blink in surprise.

Don't tell me that.

I can't believe this little thing could...

It's like Littlepip is turning into a powerful source of gravitational pull. I stare at her with the feeling that my eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. Straight into that little gray pony.

Homage revels and enjoys my reaction as much as I revel in selected and quality whiskey.

"Daniel," she giggles, "it's impolite to stare with your mouth open at a young and innocent mare."

Innocent?!

I close my eyes. I take a deep breath. I think hard about what I've heard.

The DJ's secretary is clearly joking. It can't be true... or can it?

There's no point in asking about it. She's not likely to tell the truth. However, judging by the heroine's confused reaction... she has indeed somehow killed one of the deadliest creatures on the planet.

"I understand..."

"What do you understand?"

"That this world is fucking crazy... since the little mare defeated the dragon."

Homage chuckles.

"Such are the heroes here," she adds. "True, she outdid the other heroes. But there were those who showed a different kind of heroism. For example, Surgeon and Professor, who lived in the Wasteland more than twenty years ago. Surgeon went around the settlements, wasting his time and helping the doctors improve their skills. Thanks to him, there are many good doctors in the Wasteland this side of the Great Deserts. Then he started looking for someone and... and he vanished into thin air. The second famous one studied the diversity of flora and the behavior of fauna from a scientific point of view. He looked for mutant weaknesses and new uses, like making potions from mutant plants. His knowledge improved the survivability of wastelanders, and then he too disappeared... rumor has it that he went to the next continent, to the zebras."

I am distracted and ponder.

This is what the local 'heroes' are capable of...

"They used to call me a hero, too," I mutter with bitter nostalgia.

"Called?" Littlepip says. That seems to interest her a lot. "So what happened?"

"I was young and too naive," I mutter, lowering my gaze to my hoof. "Tried to help everyone... Sometimes I helped the wrong people, and others took advantage of me. Destiny gave me slap after slap, and the rose-colored glasses fell off."

Everyone is silent. No one knows what to answer, and I don't feel like going on. But Littlepip wants to know more about my past.

Why should I tell her about it? What's the point? There's absolutely nothing good about my past.

"If you," Homage breaks the silence, "don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

Littlepip can't easily agree with what she says. For some reason, she wants to know.

Maybe... she should tell after all? She's just beginning her journey and maybe if she hears my story, she'll grow up faster and avoid future mistakes?

"Well... all right."

***

I don't go into the details of my childhood. It is enough for them to know that I had every chance of becoming the chief engineer of my Vault, and that life itself in the underground bunker was good.

I didn't have any particularly close friends, but I was fabulously lucky to have a sweetheart.

A loving and caring father.

A desire to improve the lives of others.

Safety, comfort, and food.

Everything was perfect... except for that pesky Butch. One day my father ran away and thereby put me in disfavor with the Overseer. I had to run away, and Brisa, the closest and dearest person to me, could not let me leave on my own. We were eighteen years old... very young.

Littlepip reacts strangely when I mention my Overseer as him. Her left eye twitches faintly.

Mastering the rules of life in the Wasteland and searching for my father in Megaton. The risky disarming of a nuclear bomb. A fascinating encounter with Moira Brown.

Unicorns is surprised that an analog of Wasteland Survival Guide appeared two hundred years after the apocalypse. And that I had a hoof in the writing of said book.

Exploring the ruins of Washington, DC. Meeting the Brotherhood of Steel and Three Dog.

Homage cheerfully notes the similarities between the DJs, as well as my successful persuasion of Three Dog, "Apparently he's not that good if he succumbed so easily to your charms. I'm glad you ended up helping him repair the relay."

A vacation in Rivet City, the truth about my father, Project Purity... and the site visit itself.

"Your parents have a noble goal," Littlepip says. "A clear and definite one that greatly improves life in the Wasteland. I envy it."

The search for my father led me to Vault 112, a computer simulation and the creator of the GECK.

"Your father is alive and well..." Homage says in puzzlement. "I still don't understand what was so... fracturing."

"Listen further... The long recovery of Project Purity has begun."

"How long?"

"It dragged on for two months."

"Wow..."

"What's so surprising about that? Some of the equipment had fallen into disrepair after eighteen years unattended, and other parts of it had been stripped by looters and other free explorers."

"And you spent two months restoring everything? What about the equipment that was in Rivet City?" Homage asks.

"The city needed it, not to mention the fact that it had previously generously provided some of it when the project was first conceived. We had to collect the covers ourselves to buy them from vendors. Some of the equipment had to be found in the Wasteland."

"Tough assignment, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I've been in all sorts of situations while searching, seen all sorts of people. Even been chained into slavery. I'm good with technology, that's why people like me are highly valued... But even these are temporary difficulties. Brisa found a way to get me out."

"So... what happened?"

"The consequences of my help during that period came later. I was especially diligent in helping others, wanting to make life easier with my skills. Meeting my father and working for a good cause encouraged me and... blinded me. Keep that in mind."

The appearance of the Enclave, the death of my father, and the escape.

"I never thought," Homage says, "that you'd have the Enclave reveal itself to the world after all. And not with such good intentions. I'm... sorry your father's dead."

"Thank you... Father died on his own terms and bought us time to escape. Tough time... And then, after finding out some of the circumstances, I began to see his death differently. It still gnaws at me to this day."

"What did you find out?"

There is a feeling of weakness in my body. My mouth is dry, the bitterness makes my heart clench into a lump. It's hard to remember.

"All in good time..."

A close connection with the Brotherhood of Steel, the search for the last component to complete the project... GECK.

"A device..." thr DJ's secretary says thoughtfully, "that can turn a lifeless wasteland into a blooming paradise... And you say you have no magic."

"Sounds fantastic, I agree. However, only a small piece of land was becoming completely clean of radiation exposure. So... it's a great achievement, but not as revolutionary as it might seem."

Journey to Little Lamplight, Vault 87, meeting Fawkes, getting the GECK, and being captured by the Enclave.

"If it wasn't for the help of President Eden, you wouldn't have gotten out of there alive," Homage observes.

"That's right. The split within their organization was a tangible help... It was there that I discovered the circumstance that made me look at my father's death differently. The Enclave on the East Coast had operated secretly for two hundred years. They had knowledge. They knew many state secrets, developments and locations of resource bunkers... They didn't have the men and soldiers to take advantage of it on their own. They resorted to using the people of the Wasteland. They were secretly recruited... resources in exchange for information. From it, they could quickly identify a growing threat, and nip it in the bud."

"Are you telling me that... they were watching everything that was going on?" Homage gasps.

Watcher might be one of them in these Wasteland.

"And not just watching, but setting up conflicts that are profitable to them. They would be uncomfortable, to say the least, if the East Coast united. They were... maintained the balance of the conflicting parties. Their main pet peeves were the mercenaries of the Talon Company and the Regulators. Thanks to this... covert organization, as well as the sudden appearance of the Brotherhood of Steel in the region, they were able to suppress an invasion of super mutants from Vault 87."

"Wow... For once, the people of the Wasteland come together in the face of a common threat. What's changed?"

"The surviving members of the Enclave from the West Coast came in. Raven Rock has become the main center of the Anclave's activities. A new president, an AI who had previously simply directed operations and spread propaganda that the Enclave would soon restore order, peace, and prosperity. A new conflict was brewing... with the Brotherhood of Steel. As you remember, Elder Lyons reformed his chapter and began enrolling commoners from the Wasteland. It couldn't have been a better gift for the Enclave. And the Brotherhood of Steel was swarming with Enclave spies. They leaked information about all operations and waited for their chance. A split within the Enclave itself prevented their staggering strike in time."

"What served to cause the split? The Enclave group from the east and the surviving group from the west disagreed?"

"Bull's-eye. The west coast people wanted to finish what they started and wipe out all the mutated life on the surface with a virus. Start all over again."

"Destroy everything?!" both unicorns are horrified at the same time.

"Yes, but they were thwarted there. And Eden—the AI—didn't want the radical destruction of all humans, his spies, his people were everywhere. That's not why he was spreading propaganda about restoring order and peace and prosperity. He... intended to control people completely—not without the help of propaganda, of course. To make them, in effect, a cheap labor force to rebuild the country. Pretty much what Red Eye is doing now. A small number of genetically pure people will control the 'unclean'. A new division in society. Brave new world... Roughly speaking, the question in the Enclave was about the common people of the Wasteland: destruction or enslavement."

"What a nightmare..." the unicorns look shocked. "Was your surviving government capable of such a thing?"

I nod sullenly.

"To wipe out everyone and everything, it was necessary to find a way to effectively spread the virus. Anyway... all this controversy put their plans on hold... and that's where I come in."

The unpleasant dryness in my mouth returns, and a bitter lump rises to my throat.

"When I was rebuilding Project Purity with my father. because of my desire to help everyone... helped the spies of the Enclave as well. I later learned that some of the people I had saved had denounced the Enclave. Naturally, my actions brought attention to myself. And Three Dog had been gossiping about me and... the Enclave began to follow me. That's how they found out about Project Purity. That's how I... brought death upon my father."

"Oh..."

"If I was just looking for parts and necessary equipment, and didn't interfere with their business..."

"Daniel... even after the project was completed, they'd still know about it," Homage says.

"But the circumstances would probably have been different. My father might have survived."

I feel shivers and weakness all over my body.

"If I'd... been more careful, not so trusting and attentive... It's hard to know who's who in life. By my own actions I have also unknowingly helped murderers, maniacs, slave traders, and..."

I am silent. I am torn with conflicting emotions. I regret my actions... and I want to beat the faces of those I helped. Among them, Roy Phillips, the ghoul, emerges most vividly.

"What about your love?"

"When I found out about everything, she wasn't alive anymore."

I raise my front hooves. They are trembling.

My hands are bloody... Behind them I can see a body with brown hair. It's hard to breathe, I feel like I'm suffocating. Everything around me is cloudy with tears.

Confusion prompts chaos in my head. Cold terror paralyzes my body.

Homage touches me gently. I lower my hooves and stare at her with tears in my eyes.

She encloses me in a tight hug.

Little by little I feel better. Thinking is easier. I feel warmth and the resulting lightness. Control of my body is returning.

"Thank you..." I say.

The hug... so helpful. I don't feel so alone in them.

"I just... Didn't expect. I didn't expect things to come at me like this."

"I understand," Homage says. "You remembered too many painful events at once. That's why you couldn't take it. I didn't realize there was so much sadness and pain behind such a cheerful nature."

"I try not to think about it. And I've learned to do it. Now you see why I didn't want to talk about my past."

Littlepip looks worried and frightened. Given what has been said, it's not hard to guess what she's afraid of.

"As you can see... since then, I've lost my desire to help anyone and everyone. Up to a certain point, I tried to avoid acts of help."

"You know," Homage begins, returning to her seat, "you're too fixated on the bad stuff. I'm sure you've really made life easier for a lot of decent ponies... I mean, people. After all, not all apples on the apple tree are stale."

Her words make sense. Of my actions in the Capital Wasteland, I most often thought about mistakes. There were definitely some good moments, only I don't remember them well. Perhaps if I dig into my Pip-Boy records, I'll find mentions of deeds that actually brought good things to people.

"And then it was simpler than that. The colonel of the Enclave wanted to initiate the self-destruction of Eden and relocate the personnel loyal to him elsewhere in the event of failure. I took advantage of that, prudently saving all their data, and fled. Before taking action against the Enclave in Project Purity, we purged the ranks of the Brotherhood of Steel of their spies. And then we developed a plan to take over... with the help of a giant robot."

"Was it successful?"

"Yes... only at the time I felt like I couldn't live."

"Why?"

"It was urgent to activate the purification plant filled with radiation because of the sabotage, otherwise there would have been a big explosion and many people would have died. There was no time to delay, so I stepped towards my death. Brisa was still alive at that point. I didn't want to leave her, but someone had to activate her."

"You... sacrificed yourself?" Homage marvels. There was a sense of admiration for what I had done in her amazement.

"Yes... Once my father sacrificed everything for me alone, now it was my turn to return the favor. But I... luckily I survived, though I was in a coma for two weeks. And the Purifier, after almost nine years, should be working just fine."

I helped the Brotherhood of Steel strengthen their position and finish off the Enclave. After the deaths of others close to me and figuring out the consequences of my actions I was lost. And just wandered from place to place. About my trip to the Pitt, Point Lookout, and my forced assistance to the Outcasts with their virtual simulation... I don't tell the unicorns. The conversation drags on as it is.

I tell them that I went to the West Coast with a group of Outcasts that broke away from the Brotherhood of Steel after setting new goals to save the common people. I... wanted to get as far away from my failures as possible. For years I wandered there... Trying to sort myself out, staying out of other people's business... except for the fact that I had to look for a job.

Things turned around again when I got shot in the head and buried in a grave.

"How on Equus did you survive?" Homage looks shocked.

"I'm just a resilient and lucky son of a bitch. I was saved by a robot... as it later turned out, it belonged to my customer."

"And what did you do when you woke up?"

"I tried to catch up with my killer... and remember my past."

"Remember your past?" the blue-haired pony is wondering.

"I temporarily lost my memory," I say and raise the Pip-Boy. "My notes have helped me gradually regain my past. And since I had forgotten my policy of non-interference, I repeatedly stepped on the same rake... even went after some very dangerous criminals. Became... a bounty hunter."

The look on their faces didn't make them happy. Oh, and for the covers, too.

"Well... I thought I could make the world a cleaner place. The caps were a nice bonus to existence. But eventually I found out that after one scoundrel is killed, another one takes his place, and often even worse. So I quit. But I'm getting ahead of myself..."

Tracking down and killing Benny with his own weapon, New Vegas, the conflict between the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion...

Unicorns find the mere mention of Caesar unpleasant. Of course: that was the title of the zebra leader in this world before the war.

Of the highlights, I mention the events in the Divide and meeting Ulysses. It was this circumstance that again forced me to accept the principle of non-interference, but by this point I had gone too far in Mojave politics. I simply could not give up: I helped the Boomers, made peace between the chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel and the NCR, resolved the issue of the Great Khans' self-identification, stopped the new wave of cannibalism in the White Glove, prevented the Omertas plot to seize the Strip... and a lot of other little things.

"Oh... The mere delivery of a parcel has caused so many deaths..." Homage mutters in shock. "The deaths of those you yourself once attracted to the Divide."

"Yes... They tried to escape the taxes and rules of the NCR, but in time the Bear annexed their new place. Ulysses was impressed with the new nation there, which I started... by accident. I didn't mind helping a group of people start a new life away from the NCR... but it didn't work out the way I wanted it to. The Bear and the Bull had a local conflict... the moment I delivered the package and activated the warheads."

"How did you not know about that?"

"They didn't activate right away. And because of the conflict between the NCR and Caesar's Legion, I didn't want to go back there. I put the horror that happened down to the result of their war among themselves. I was too shocked when I found out... that it was all my fault. Ulysses reproached me for my ignorance."

"It surprises me that you resolved the matter peacefully between you two."

"Ulysses was constantly reflecting on the subject of symbols, their interpretation. He saw them as something more... a symbol of unity, a symbol... something intangible. I think he would have been happy to puzzle over your cutie marks."

Telling about what happened in the Divide isn't easy for me. I try to soften it with jokes. Thankfully, Homage understands that and encourages me.

I say, "You see, Littlepip... even if you take on a delivery of something, make sure there's nothing in it that could lead to disaster. Be careful what you do... and for whom. "

She nods absently.

I hope my mistakes teach her something.

I tell her how the conflict over the Hoover Dam ended and whose side I took.

Mr. House was overconfident, made... illogical missteps—for example, trusting Omertas, whose main activity was once to deceive and betray.

The New California Republic is imperialistic, unable to manage resources efficiently. It is riddled with corruption and populism. Let them learn to keep order in their own territories.

Caesar's Legion... not only because of slavery and misogyny, but also because of technophobia and refusal to accept knowledge to improve society. While I must admit that they survived effectively, their hunger for violence would get them nowhere in the long run.

I have given New Vegas and its environs freedom. Yes Man and the robots kept order on the roads, and each city lived largely by its own rules, which did not prevent them from cooperating with each other.

Why exactly artificial intelligence? History has shown that humans are too cruel and easily led by their emotions. AI is less susceptible to self-interest... like Eden in the Enclave. Artificial intelligence is generally better stewards of resources than living beings. Humans have already fucked up their world. I don't want to trust them when there's artificial intelligence.

"It's a strange choice..." Homage says. "I'd still give the New California Republic a chance."

"I second that," Littlepip nods. "I don't trust artificial intelligence."

"It all depends on how their program is properly designed and on what kind of hardware it's on. Lucky 38 had advanced computer and information technology. In more than a year, Yes Man has proven itself capable of effectively solving problems in eliminating the riot and chaos that arose after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam began. He's done quite well, avoided excessive bloodshed, and the NCR began to change after the loss. The loss sobered them up. But in the lands of Caesar's Legion, it's been a mess."

"Which is to be expected. Oh..." the DJ's secretary exhales. "The world does indeed resemble ours... in historical terms. Though there hasn't been anything so far that resembles the NCR. Nevertheless... A long and fascinating story. You've come a hard way, Daniel."

"Yeah..." Littlepip looks at me, grabbing her right leg with her left foot. "You'd help me... help me if you'd come with me. Your advice would help me deal with... what I'm already in."

I completely understand her wishes. If I were her, I, too, would want someone in the Capital Wasteland to help me avoid future mistakes and come to terms with what I have done. To educate me and give me the right guidance.

But...

"Unfortunately... Like I said, I don't want to interfere in other people's affairs. Not even with advice. I don't want to influence your choices. I can also give bad advice for lack of information. I just want to go home. And if you learn something along the way that will help make that happen, then you can call me."

"Too bad," Homage cuts into the conversation. "I'd like you to keep an eye on my special pony."

A special pony? In this world, that means... Oh, DJ's secretary in a relationship with a local Wasteland heroine? That's an interesting set of circumstances.

"She'll do fine... my advice of care and caution should be enough."

***

Next, I solidify my knowledge of Equestria's war with the zebras and the Ministries. Nothing much is new. It's pretty much how I imagined it would be... and like Rusty told me when I traveled with him.

I'm more aware of the world around me now. It's easier to know what I can say and what I shouldn't say so as not to cause confusion... Unless, of course, it's to my advantage. Still, I need some kind of reliable legend of my origins.

"I just remembered something. Since I'm from another world and don't want to reveal it, I need a convincing background. I've applied the story more than once that I'm a guard from the Stable near Hoofland who couldn't stand being let into the bunker by religious fanatics."

Homage laughs and says, "Yeah. you make a good point. Hoofland is like a fairground where you can find a religion, a cult, and a belief for every taste."

"What's the reason for that?"

"It's the premier pre-war entertainment town for earth ponies and unicorns. At one time, ponies of all sorts flocked there. It made for a very fascinating and interesting mix."

"And how does my story sound against that?"

"Doubtful. All the Stables around here were dismantled by the Steel Rangers fifty years ago... as far as I know. Anyway, you can still spit out your story of your life in the Stable here. I'd suggest you... the Stable that Red Eye came out of relatively recently. It's... according to Red Eye... it was designed to study prosthetics. Just technology, no magic spells... Suitable for an inexperienced unicorn like yourself in terms of spells."

A perfectly logical thought.

"The Stable number?"

Homage is about to answer, but she freezes in mid-sentence. Stares at me... and then laughs hysterically.

"One hundred... One..." she gasps.

I am speechless. Such shocks and resemblances will soon make me lose my mind. I need to get used to it.

"You know..." Homage continues, chuckling, "the story about you being Red Eye's brother, out for revenge... doesn't seem so crazy anymore."

"I agree."

"I've seen Red Eye, and I have to say you look a little like him. He has blue eyes... or rather, a retained eye. The same black and short mane."

"That's it," I raise a trembling hoof. "That's enough. I'm going crazy with coincidences like this."

"Okay... I won't," she lowers her head.

"Thank you."

The blue-haired unicorn raises her head at me. Her teeth sparkle with a smirk.

"He also had a faithful dog that he turned into a cyborg..."

"Homage!"

"Okay-okay!"

Littlepip looks completely lost.

I have certain resemblances to one of the most important personalities on the Badlands.

That's it, forget it. Out of sight, out of mind.

"What happened to the residents of Stable 101?"

"I don't know exactly... Some say he poisoned them. Others say they joined his empire. Others say he turned them into slaves."

"I suppose it's a bit of everything," I say. "The truth is often somewhere in the middle."

Homage nods.

"That'll do," she adds. "Given the specifics of this Stable's experiment, you were kicked out of there because you're a unicorn. In some generation your parents or one of them was a unicorn. And you were an outcast, no spell books there. So you're trying to... make up for lost time, collecting caps for spell books or looking for spell books."

"Sounds good! I'll keep that in mind."

"Next, you can adapt stories from your world to the realities here. Almost all wastelanders don't leave the places they were born. And everything you've said is true to this world. Even the supermutants that are originally from humans."

"Yes, I remember. Goddess, Unity, and Alicorns... There's one more issue left to settle... the question of the anatomy of the pony races at least."

"Pick up one of the books in the library."

"Speaking of books... do you have any spell books you don't mind giving me?"

"Alas, there are none... I'm not allowed to have them."

"By whom, DJ?"

"Yes... You could say that. Come on, I'll show you the regular books you need."

I get the impression that she has the spell books, but for certain reasons she's not allowed to have them. Although why would the DJ Pon3 forbid her secretary to have spell books given that she's a unicorn? The whole thing is weird.

Maybe she is the DJ Pon3, and she changes her voice with a spell that allows her to manipulate her vocal cords? The DJ can have a lot of enemies and foes because of what he says. It is more convenient to hide the DJ from the audience... and all the guests communicate with his supposed secretary.

Yes, and to operate such a network of video cameras, spying essentially, without a cover, she would not be able to. There must be a secret society in the Tenpony Tower that supports her... and which guards something under the guise of a comfortable home for the powerful. One of the hub of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences, after all.

No.

That sounds like some kind of cheap conspiracy theory. Sometimes my imagination goes too far. It's not a good idea to make complex explanations out of thin air in an attempt to explain something about which there is no information or enough facts. Occam's razor. Of several hypotheses, hypotheses with simpler explanations should be preferred because often the truth always turns out to be boring, simple and uncomplicated.

Homage follows DJ's personal whims and rules simply because he doesn't want to lose his job, not because some hidden community that runs the whole world demands it and takes the time to share knowledge with outsiders.

"What are you thinking about?" Homage asks, turning around and seeing my thoughtful state.

"Making absurd hypotheses."

"About what?"

"Nothing... Never mind. I'm letting my imagination run wild."

***

A long line of shelves full of books. The smell of old paper and wood hangs in the air.

"Impressive," I say. "It's dizzying... so many of them."

An unimaginable number of books. Brisa was crazy about them.

Most of the spines of the books are untitled. Others with their titles hinted at scientific content, at speculative content, at the usual fiction reading.

"Discord as Messenger of Tartarus."

"Elements of Harmony, the Legacy of the Crystal Empire?"

"Celestia's Odyssey."

"The Story of the Five Cloud Cities."

"Princess Luna and her power over the stars."

"The Stars are the First Evil."

"Ghost Without Eyes."

"Secrets of the Desert Ocean."

"The Inimitable Art of the Hippogriffs."

"Gems and Dragons."

"Yaks: A Philosophy of Destruction and Renewal."

Of all these titles, it is difficult to determine what belongs to what. Homage hasn't read them all for lack of time. She's more interested in the present, books that relate to it in one way or another.

"Here..." her hoof circles around a few lines of books, the gist of which is as follows 'How to Be a Pony. For Dummies'. They contain information about the impressive stamina of earth ponies, about talented unicorns, about graceful and agile pegasi...

The latter interest me the most. To have the innate ability to fly! It's almost every child's dream.

After picking up some books at no cost, I ask Littlepip to solve the problem of radio receiving in my Pip-Boy. She inspects it and shrugs her shoulders.

"It needs a new module," she adds. "Yours isn't equipped to receive radio signals."

A new module can be found at the Tenpony Tower with no problem, but it costs a large amount of caps. I decide I'll get by without a radio somehow. Sooner or later, some PipBuck will come my way.

The elevator doors open; I step inside and turn to the unicorns.

"Good luck to you, Daniel. I hope you find your way home and what you're looking for," Homage says in a reassuring tone.

"Thank you. For all the attention and time you've given me," I say to the blue-haired pony, and then I turn to Littlepip. "Well, Great and Miraculous Wasteland Heroine, I wish you and Homage to have a good time, to have the orgasmic pleasure of spending time together."

Homage giggles, and Littlepip pinches her ears and looks like a ripe tomato.

"You have no idea how much and how fast she can enjoy pleasure," Homage says and immediately laughs. And Littlepip, by the looks of her, wants to burrow under the floor forever. "In one week alone, she's managed to get more orgasms than people have fingers on their four limbs."

Littlepip stares eagerly into the marble floor beneath her hoof. Just a little longer and she's sure to start digging a hole underneath her to shelter herself from embarrassment.

Some people like to beat others and feel stronger. And some like to mercilessly embarrass others in order to... Oh, I don't know.

It's an interesting question, really. Never really thought about it.

Homage has an unhealthy urge to embarrass little mares. And I can understand her. Littlepip looks like she was made for it. What a heartwarming sight! It's hard to abstain.

"If she's smaller," I begin, "then correspondingly in relation to regular ponies she gets a lot more... At that size and not afraid to go into the dangerous wastelands and get her ass kicked by raiders and slave traders. A fetishist, no less. A craving for masochism."

"You didn't just hit the bull's-eye, you hit it right on the clitoris!" Homage laughs . "Velvet told me how much she loves getting bullet wounds. With her size, those wounds are pretty huge for her. So thanks for the advice, I'll experiment on that."

"All right," I chuckle, looking at Littlepip. "Just a little more, and you'll have to repair the marble floor. She'll be burrowing in it soon enough. Anyway, don't worry, Littlepip. We're just kidding. And..." I sigh, pushing the elevator button. "Remember my words."

Littlepip's ears perk up. She lifts her overexcited look from the embarrassing heat.

"Watch what you do and for whom."

She nods.

"Good luck on your journey," she says to me.

The elevator doors close.

I have a lingering feeling that she faces a painful ordeal and a hard choice. Perhaps if I'd been a little braver... I would have agreed to help her.

***

I'm comfortably sprawled out on the couch, an open anatomy book floating before me in the blue haze of my magic. Every day I get so used to levitation that I don't notice how I use it.

The hours-long conversation with the DJ's secretary and the young heroine of the Wasteland have worn me out. I've spent the last few hours enjoying reading about pony bodies. It's enlightening.

Sections of the book I don't read in full, just two or three pages at the beginning and as much at the end. I glance through the rest of the text. I need a basic understanding of what a pony is. Of course, I always stop at places where magic is mentioned. Otherwise, on general principles, the pony body works similarly to a human's.

I yawn wearily.

The book closes with a thud and ends up on the table. I stretch sweetly. It's time for bed.

A quiet knock on the door stops me halfway into the bedroom.

Who is this bringing in at this late hour?

I walk over to the table and hide the anatomy book away. In case someone wants to go inside and see it. Certainly the pony who enters will be confused about my interest.

"Hello," the sunny pony says softly outside the door. I smile and just nod. She's dressed in a light dress to match her sunny coat color. "May I come in?"

"Of course," I mutter, and step aside, letting her pass.

"Thank you," she says in a confident voice, but walks past me at a far from confident pace. Her orange mane whizzes a few inches from my nose, a slight scent of citrus coming from it.

The earth pony walks in and looks around the room.

"I hope you... like it here," she turns in my direction.

"It's just lovely," I say enthusiastically and gently close the doors.

I suspect where this is going.

I hold back my thrilled sigh. Getting close to a pony... is so unfamiliar and so... thrilling. I want to try it and find out what it's like. I want to know why I was able to sleep with Bluerise when I was drunk.

"I am quite grateful that you provided this luxurious room. And yes, the beds are delightful."

She smiles awkwardly and looks away shyly.

"I'm... glad you were comfortable..." she says, and casually looks around. "Where's your foal? Did he find new parents?"

I nod. Sunny pony blurts out a smile.

"I hope everything works out well for him..." she adds. Her mood turns melancholy. "Not much good going on around here lately."

Lately... She talks about the Red Eye expansion.

"Are you afraid?" I ask and move closer to her. Her eyes look at me with worry.

"A little..."

"A little?"

"Well... Tenpony Tower has been around for two hundred years. The safest place in the Wasteland."

"I've been wondering why the ponies chose this place. The tower is deep in the ruins of a prewar city. It's difficult to get to it. It's inconvenient and risky to deliver supplies. Difficult logistics."

"Yes... But, like I said, it's safe. It's protected by a lot of spells."

"Do you think Red Eye won't break through her defenses?"

She's silent. She doesn't know the answer to that question herself. Perhaps an ordinary pony or a talented unicorn couldn't get into the Tower, but... Red Eye. He must have a few aces up his sleeve. With ambition like that... and with his empire expanding so rapidly, they just have to be.

"I... don't want to talk about it," the pony says, averting his gaze.

"I agree. Let's not ruin the evening..." I touch her shoulder gently. She flinches in surprise and looks at me interestedly with her orange eyes. "Come, let's sit down."

"I'm wondering..." I begin, sitting on the couch as close to the pony as possible. "How is it that we still don't know each other's name?"

Sunny pony covers her mouth with her hoof and chuckles relaxedly.

"How rude of me."

"Of you?"

"I live in a society obsessed with such formalities. Had to respect a little detail like that. You're a guest... and it's natural for you not to be formally polite. You surprised me yesterday. I... I didn't expect a resident of the Wasteland to be..."

"So nice?" I guffaw.

She laughs, "Yeah."

"And I didn't expect either..." I begin and deliberately understate.

"Of what, exactly?" Her face turns in my direction.

"To meet a generous and kind pony here," I hug her shoulder gently.

She sighs deeply. I can feel her body tense. Her front legs are crossed and pressed against her dress.

"T-thank you..."

"And now we're distracted again," I say without removing my hooves from her shoulder. "My name is Daniel... and you?"

"Minneola."

It sounds unusual and... kind of charming. I don't know what it means... I guess it's the name of a fruit.

"It's a beautiful name... After some kind of fruit, I suppose?"

"Yes. A special kind."

"Have you... ever seen or tasted it?"

She shakes her head negatively.

"The name is taken from a book," Minneola adds.

I look at her soft yellow fur and her light orange mane, tucked into a bun at the back of her head. Her mane from the front is shaped like the outline of a fruit.

Her front legs rest loosely on her dress. She is relaxed.

I missed a bit when I... Called her a sun pony, but it obviously didn't bother her then.

"And I wanted to try..." I begin lustfully. Her face turns to me, her warm breath giving off a faintly citrusy scent. Or maybe I'm just imagining it because of her appearance. I lower my voice to a whisper, "To taste that juicy and delicious fruit after which you were named..."

The gaze of orange eyes drops to my lips. Her own lips move involuntarily, desire gleaming in her eyes as if she sees a juicy and delicious fruit. Her head slowly gives in to meet mine. Her lips part slightly in languid anticipation.

I lean back. My heart races in anticipation.

A light touch of our lips. I close my eyes against the warm wave of pleasure. It allows me to focus fully on the sensation. Her lips are soft and warm and relaxed.

I gradually increase the pressure of my lips against hers. Minneola responds in kind. The kiss gets stronger and... hotter...

***

The 10th of the Month of Bread, Yellowday. Nineteenth day of my stay.

It's a perfect morning, especially with such a lovely creature sniffing quietly by my side. This night has been... rich and informative about pony anatomy. Theory is good, of course, but the best way to learn is through practice. As I'd expected earlier, ponies aren't much different from humans in that regard. Except that there is a significant limitation in poses. Now it's clear how I've had some luck with Bluerise.

I move slightly under the blanket, and the softness of the sheet pleasantly tickles my beige fur. My gaze passes over Minneola's light orange mane.

Everyone has their own fetishes, but the vast majority either don't know about them or won't admit them to others. New Reno and New Vegas seem to encourage fetishes. But that's not really the case. The relaxed atmosphere of what's going on helps them reveal themselves. It's like with favorite foods—you won't know you like them until you come across them and try them.

Minneola. Has her own... taste preferences.

There are echoes in my head and... my body echoes the sensations of what happened last night. Unusual, new, funny in places... but the pony was content.

She, still asleep, turns to me. There's a faint smile on her lips.

Yes... She was definitely pleased with my efforts.

I stare at her peaceful face for half an hour, pondering the experience, until she wakes up.

Minneola opens her orange eyes, yawns sweetly, and looks up at me. Unable to contain her smile, she snuggles closer to me.

"Thanks again..." she says quietly, "for what you did yesterday."

I run my hoof through her spread orange mane.

"It was... an interesting experience for me."

She bumps her nose shyly against my fur on chest.

"Will you... ever come back here again?" she asks.

It's the most uncomfortable and hardest question for me to answer. I feel good with her, but... I have no claim to anything else. No relationship. I am, after all, an alien from another world who wants to go back. Besides, the prospect of being stuck in one place doesn't appeal to me at all. Not yet.

"I am a traveler, but it is highly unlikely that I will return here."

She'd expected that answer—and yet she was having a hard time accepting it.

"Didn't you want to settle down somewhere? Tenpony Tower is a beautiful place... "

I shake my head regretfully.

"If it's because," she says in a concerned tone, "that I'm a servant pony and can't offer anything to brag about..."

I put a hoof to her lips.

"I get into dangerous and deadly situations out of habit. A close pony wouldn't stand for that kind of behavior. You want to worry and worry whether I'm alive or not?"

Minneola is understandingly silent.

"If... If I owned any business. Made enough caps for both of us, and you wouldn't have to roam the Wasteland looking for work?"

"I understand what you're saying... But it's not just about the caps. I tried to lead a settled domestic life, but it didn't work out. I'm... drawn to places I haven't been."

Minneola sighs sadly and snuggles up to me again, rubbing her nose against my fur.

"Do you mind if we lie down together some more?"

***

I go to the restaurant, have a hearty meal. I return to my room, gather my gear, and head for the Princess Luna Information Center.

I explore the ruined streets of Manehattan until late afternoon. I bump into small groups of raiders and ghouls, nothing special. I look around carefully and keep an eye on the area. I survey the surviving houses and buildings, finding old and pre-war posters, books, magazines, documents. For the most part it's unnecessary junk, but I manage to extract some information from it about the past: war, ministries, princesses, technology, and the like.

I find one copy of a familiar gun book, Guns and Bullets. From it I learn a lot about Equestrian firearms. I now have a better idea of how ponies use 'ordinary' weapons. I also realize that no amount of ammunition here is going to work with the human weapons I have with me.

I'm going to have to limit its use. I'll look for decent local weapons.

Wandering through lifeless ruins without a radio can be boring at times.

It's getting dark around here. It's about time to find a place to stay for the night. As if at my behest, a grocery store comes into sight a few moments later.

It's nice. Just what I need.

Before I go inside, I check my compass in Pip-Boy and spot a few unfriendlies. I pull out my revolver and enter the small store. There is trash everywhere, empty shelves, and the unpleasantness turns out to be a few radroaches. After crushing them and clearing the nastiness from my shoes, I go to check the basement. Maybe there's something left down there.

My compass shows six red marks. I walk down the steps; once I'm at the bottom, I slowly open the door and poke my head into the basement room.

Look at that. Ghouls. They're my favorite fans—when they see me, they run after me in droves, hoping to get at least a piece of me.

There are five of them in the basement, but there's also a sixth one that I can't see. There are metal shelves nearby, and some of them still have light brown, dirty cardboard boxes on them. Old, rusty cold storage rooms.

I hope there's still some pre-war food and water that managed to survive thanks to powerful preservatives.

I don't close the door all the way, turn around, bend my front legs, press the door with my telekinesis for a stronger effect, and kick at it with tremendous force. The force of my hind legs and my telekinesis causes the door to fly off its weak, rusty hinges and into the basement. Luck smiles on me—the door encloses one ghoul in its heavy embrace. I wish I had killed it, but at least I immobilized it by dropping it beneath me. The rest of the fans of living flesh notice their idol and throw themselves into an embrace with me.

It's time for a little dance with my fans.

The first ghoul that catches up with me feels the blade of my electrified sword on his face as it passes over him.

Get an autograph!

He stops and backs away from the force of the swing. I walk up to him and finish him off with my sword. Two ghouls rush at me from both sides.

Well, I love a friendly hug, but not in this environment! I step back and the two ghouls clash in a big hug.

The next ghoul runs up, knocking me to the ground with his speed, and I drop my sword from my grip with my telekinesis. The ghoul piles on top of me and tries to get me with his teeth. The smell from his mouth is probably disgusting, but I'm wearing a helmet, so I can't tell for sure. I use my front hooves to hold him by the neck so he doesn't reach me with his clanking and disgusting mouth, and then I pick my moment and use my hind hooves to throw him off me.

Before I can get up and look around, another ghoul—the glowing one—reaches me. And here's the sixth one... It throws me back against a metal shelf. Several cardboard boxes fall from it. Metal pans fly out of one of the boxes. The glowing ghoul is about to finish what he started when I use telekinesis to grab the two pans and smash them into the ghoul's head.

There is a thin, vibrating sound of metal hitting someone's fleshy skull. The pans vibrate from the force of the blow, and the ghoul staggers and nearly loses his balance.

"Well! Come on!" I shout.

I take turns ducking and punching. At one point the ghoul collapses on the concrete floor. I take out my revolver and shoot him in the head, for such a tough creature you can't hit with a frying pan that easily.

Oh... I only now notice that I am levitating three objects at once, though small and light.

With a distinct snarl the two, who were clutched in a warm embrace, jump up.

It took them a long time to get up. It's lucky that the ghouls are extremely clumsy spawns of radiation.

"Take me!" I shout with fervor. "I'm all yours! Whole and all!" I activate the VATS, and use the pans to finish off the two ghouls.

I never thought that hitting someone with a blunt, simple object like a frying pan was pleasurable to the point of orgasm. Surely it must be because of the appealing sound of metal and flesh hitting each other.

From the frequent blows, the metal handles of the pans have bent, and the bottoms of each have deep indentations in the shape of a pony's head.

Eh. Ruined such wonderful and good things!

I toss them aside, then pick up my sword and finish off the ghoul that was temporarily immobilized by the door I knocked down. After cleaning the blood from the sword, I place it on my belt.

Now I can look around in peace.

The crates contain canned beans in sauce, corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes... hay...? Yes. That's right, ponies eat hay.

I take a long look at the jar of densely packed yellow hay. Is it worth trying?

Fuck it... I don't want to.

The refrigerators contain other treasures: pasta, mashed potatoes, purified water, different kinds of Sparkle Cola. No alcohol.

I put as much of the provisions I find here in my bags as I can, which take up less space and are more nutritious. In the end, by my calculations, I have enough for about a week. The leftover food will come in handy for other travelers and seekers. Perhaps someone will stay here until they've eaten everything.

There is nothing useful in the office on the second floor. But ahead is the owner's office.

I would rub my hands with joy if I had any. The door in front of me is securely locked!

I fiddle with the lock for a while, and it gives way to me. Easy as pie.

I wonder... are there spells that can pick locks without any tools?

Behind the door is a seemingly ordinary office: an office desk with a non-working terminal and a dusty beige and green couch, lots of file cabinets, a couple of standard wooden cabinets and dressers, old white vases with patterns of blue petals. On the wall hangs a tilted wooden frame from a painting, in its center is another treasure that would make me happily rub my hands together—a safe!

The lock on the safe proves to be a little more difficult, but it too eventually surrenders to me. Inside the safe are about three dozen large-caliber revolver rounds and the actual revolver itself in relatively good condition.

Oh, there goes my new regular firearm.

I'll clean and tidy it up later.

Next... Office papers, gems that can be sold quite nicely. According to Homage, some merchants only accept gems instead of caps. Gems interject a certain amount of magic, they are used for magical matrixes and other components in devices and technologies, like PipBuck. And are used as jewelry along with other gems like sapphires, rubies, and others.

But they have a use for me, too. They can be used somehow when using spells—to enhance them, for example.

Another notable item in the safe turns out to be a glowing orb. It emits a small blue glow. It's about half the size of a hoof.

I know the dangers of such glowing things. Things that glow are usually radioactive—but Pip-Boy doesn't mark any sign of radiation on this object. I scrutinize the orb, but find nothing but a mesmerizing glow emanating from it. At my own risk, I tap on it and toss it, but nothing happens.

Maybe it's just a trinket. I don't know what it might be good for, but I decide to put it in my bag.

As soon as I concentrate my magic on it, I instantly sense something wrong. I take a closer look and immediately lose control of myself. My surroundings begin to disappear, and my consciousness seems to slip away.

←=======ooOOoo=======→

Where the fuck am I? Why can't I move? What the fuck is going on right now?!

I'm having a serious panic attack. After a few seconds, I start to see something. The world has changed, and this office looks like new, everything is clean and new and emitting a pleasant fragrance. Outside the office window I hear the hum of traffic and pedestrians, who, judging by their voices, are hurrying about their business. By the way, the windows are also brand new, and the sunlight shines through them brightly and warmly. Just like before the war.

What the hell is going on?

For some reason I am sitting at my desk, filling out some paperwork. My body doesn't listen to me...

Why can't I control myself?

My body feels somehow... different. No wonder, judging by the sensations, I am a woman, or rather, a mare. The atypical sensations in my crotch have changed somewhat. The sensory area is somewhere closer to the skin and extends inward to the body, not upward as usual...

Did I have a sex change? Why the hell did I become a mare? No, no, no, this is just a horrible nightmare and fucking absurd!

My panicked thoughts are distracted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," my ringing voice says.

Or is that not my voice? Totally lost my logical train of thought. Why can't I control my body?!

A light blue unicorn walks into the office.

"Hello, Miss Glow. My name is Sparkle Blue. I'm here for a job interview," the blue unicorn mumbles a little worriedly.

"Well, have a seat," Miss Glow says, pointing to a chair with her hoof. "Let's see if you're a good fit as a salespony."

For ten minutes there's talk about what kind of education he has, where he went to school, whether he has work experience, and other stuff. After some time of interviewing, Glow accepts him as a salespony and tells him who will take over his training. They talk about his responsibilities on the job and a number of other little nuances. I'm not interested, I only want one thing: for this nightmare to be over as soon as possible!

"I'll get to work tomorrow," Sparkle Blue says with a grin in his teeth, and then he leaves the office while Glow continues to fill out her paperwork.

"Cute and sweet," the mare says aloud, being left alone. I feel a romantic smile spread across my lips. "Maybe I'll take him out to dinner after work tomorrow. Find out how he's doing and if he's seeing anyone..."

I can see why she kept her eyes on him during the conversation. Also, it seemed to me that she was deliberately dragging the conversation out so that she could get to know him better. Even though I am not an employer, I know that some of the questions (mostly meaningless) that this lady asked are not asked when hiring.

So, what's next?

That's where the world around you disappears again.

←=======ooOOoo=======→

Before my eyes is the same office, only a couple of hundred years later. I'm on the floor, and next to me lies the cursed magic ball. Looking at it makes me feel a rush of terror, bewilderment, and anxiety.

How long have I been unconscious? Fuck! This is the perfect trap! I couldn't control myself and I couldn't stop it, no matter how much I wanted to.

"Go to hell!" I slam my hoof against the ball, shaking with fear. The ball crashes against the wall. The shards rain down on the floor, and the balloon's blue glow disperses like dust. I also think that as the blue glow began to disperse, I heard someone's soft, long sigh.

I take deep breaths, trying to calm my frayed nerves.

Sort of like a pre-war holo-recording? Only with the ability to see and... Feel? Feel someone else's recorded feelings... Holy shit!

On the one hand it is good, and on the other hand it is bad. It is good when memories have pleasant feelings, emotions, there is an opportunity to taste pre-war food. It is bad when memories bring pain and suffering. I wouldn't want to experience something like that.

Another disadvantage: Apparently, as long as I'm in this kind of memory ball, I become vulnerable. I'm very easy to grab in this position. Why didn't Homage or Littlepip mention such a thing? Maybe because they were telling me about things that existed in this world, and there was nothing like that in my world. Or maybe they simply forgot... There was no way to tell everything.

Homage's suggestion of a review of my memory no longer seems like a bluff, but a reality.

The memory didn't have any important information, just a piece of memory of a mare from the past, who apparently chose to keep a mention of the first meeting with, perhaps, her future lover or lover. Maybe they really did have something stuck together, but I won't know it. And no one will ever know that they had something anymore, because I'm horrified to have broken that orb.

It's frustrating and embarrassing. It was an important memory for someone else, and I took it and destroyed it, as if I had erased a piece of the past. So why didn't this mare from the past take this orb with her and leave it here?

I sigh heavily and look out the surviving window. Behind it is a dull gray sky—not at all like the one in the orb with memory. It was like walking into someone's dream, only everything is very realistic and extremely clear.

It is dark outside, and brief gunshots and distant screams echoed from the distant corners of the ruins. A cold, desolate wind is blowing in through the broken window. I feel a sense of longing and loneliness. The contrast between the bright past and the gloomy present is so... strong.

It's about time to get some rest.

I set the alarm. My improvised alarm system consists of several empty tin cans I found in the basement hanging over the door. The door opens to the inside of the office, so if an intruder comes in, the cans will jingle and notify me. I spread out my sleeping bag and lay down on it.

***

Shrill gunshots... Screaming...

From these sounds I rise sharply, grab my revolver, and look around. No one's in the office, and it's bright outside. It must be morning.

An excited heart pounding in my chest. I shake my head and rub my eyes. Sleep gradually dissipates.

I slept through the night... Good result. I slept surprisingly soundly well.

Another shot rings out, followed by a few people laughing... no, a pony.

I cautiously approach the window. Along the street, four very dirty ponies, wearing ragged clothes and junk as extra protection, are running after a turquoise earth pony and her foal for sure. Raiders or bandits. They are scattered all over the street and playing with their victims, for they would have caught up with them by now.

With my telekinesis I bring my sniper rifle close to me.

The rifle stops in midair in hesitation.

I shouldn't get involved. What if there's more behind it all? Her husband or the other foals have remained in captivity, and these have supposedly been given a chance to escape. And if their buddies don't come back, the remaining victims will be tripled in severity.

A shot from one of the mares chasing the victims hits the turquoise mare's hind leg. She screams painfully and falls with a heavy thud. The foal falls from her back.

"Finally!" is heard the joyful exclamation of the bandit who is holding a small pistol in her magical grip. "I got the bitch and her little brat."

No... They initially saw the victims and began chasing them. They wanted to take them alive so they could then mock them. Raiders, if they do ambush them, often seek to take their victims alive. To have fun with them and then, perhaps, to enlarge their ranks. Most often this fate falls to children: adults are killed.

The weak earth pony and her foal are mockingly cornered. Defenseless, unable to stand up for themselves. Spent their entire lives in poverty, in fear of tomorrow.

"Mommy!" the little filly cries.

My heart twists in pain. A lump goes to my throat.

No.

I...

Mustn't... stay away.

The magic of my horn shines brighter. My rifle readies to fire.

The rest of the raiders, with knives and sledgehammers in their teeth, run laughingly toward their victims. The mare is still alive, but she doesn't call for help, realizing that no one will save her, and so she instinctively covers herself for the filly who has managed to crawl up to her.

"Now you're ours!" the chief raider chuckles.

The raiders almost make it.

The head of one of the raiders explodes, its debris scattering in the surroundings. The others are surprised by the gunshot. The second bandit turns out to be a large earth pony with toxic colored hair. A gaping hole appears in his head in less than a second.

The third bandit turns around in fright and rushes to the nearest pre-war wagon. Blood splatters on its rusted gray hull. The earth pony collapses heavily onto the road. She chokes on her own blood—the bullet went through her throat.

The fourth... the unicorn. She's hiding behind a trash can. She knows it's no point in running from a sniper.

Maybe I should try to get close to her with a stealth field and save a round...

I look at my stealth-mode-modified Pip-Boy.

It's all the charge I have on the VATS. I won't be able to use stealth mode or VATS for another ten minutes. Big MT technology is impressive, but not limitless. The issue of power consumption hasn't been resolved. We'll have to do things differently.

A shot distracts me from Pip-Boy.

The hiding raider tries to shoot back. She doesn't know my location. The advantage is on my side. The earth pony shot in the neck, desperately fighting for her life, has passed away.

I pull out the magazine of my rifle and insert a single armor-piercing round. Inserting the magazine back into the rifle, I aim at the trash can behind which the she is hiding.

The rifle emits a heavily muffled rumble, and the bullet passes through one layer of thin metal, and then a second on the back side. The trash can is empty, so the bullet goes through without a problem. The outlaw cries out in pain, followed by the sound of her body falling deafeningly onto the concrete.

There is silence outside. The doors of abandoned wagons and cars occasionally creak under the strolling wind. The turquoise earth pony looks around perplexedly and anxiously. She sees me when I am already coming down to her.

"Don't touch us," the unicorn mutters fearfully, covering her foal with her hooves.

"Don't be afraid," I take off my helmet with 'ominous red eyes', "I won't hurt you."

I try to speak as softly and friendly as possible.

"Who are you?" the turquoise filly asks in a stiff voice.

"A random passerby," I smile. "How are you? Are you seriously hurt?"

"I'll live," she mumbles, not fully aware of what's happened. "Thanks for your help."

"And the foal?"

She looks at her little child. The filly looks up at me and smiles wryly.

"Hi," she says cautiously. The mother tries to get up, but cries out in pain.

"Mommy!" the little pony cries out in horror. She looks at her mother's bloody hind legs. From what she sees, the child is horrified even more, almost sobbing.

"Let me help."

I pull out medical instruments and decontamination fluid to get the bullets out, as well as painkillers.

"Is that what I think it is?" the turquoise pony asks warily.

"Yes, it's a painkiller."

"I'd rather tolerate it."

"It'll take the pain away," I assure her.

"I know. But I'm afraid..."

"I have enough medical experience to treat wounds like this. With my life... I've been fed lead, stabbed... hit with a blunt, heavy object... Anyway, it's not easy to get the bullets out, and it's probably going to hurt a lot. Do you want the baby to hear you screaming?"

The pony hesitates, looking at her daughter.

"Okay..." the mare says hesitantly, turning to me.

Without further ado, I get to work.

***

"Thank you so much for... help," she smiles, and suddenly her face takes on a dejected and guilty look. "I... can't thank you enough."

"That's all right. Your gratitude is enough for me," I say, smiling.

"What? Why?" she wonders, as if she sees a ghost. I understand her—expecting help from a stranger is the equivalent of looking for wind in a field.

"If a pony can thank me with something tangible, let him. If not, a kind word is enough for me."

"Without... self-interest?" the pony continues to wonder.

"In such situations it is difficult for me to... stay away. That's my nature. I just enjoy doing good to others when I can do it..."

The turquoise pony is still in disbelief, looking at me with mixed feelings. She's overwhelmed with gratitude and skepticism.

I just shrug my shoulders and look back thoughtfully at the dead.

"You might find something useful in those raiders. And in that store," I point to the store I spent the night in, "there's plenty of food and water saved in the basement thanks to the ghouls, who are definitely permanently dead by now. I can't carry it all away anyway."

The mother stares at me in amazement.

I try with great effort not to smile. I love seeing faces like that. I love to pleasantly surprise others. I feel like I'm doing something useful. In the Wasteland, a good mood is a reward in itself. You can accomplish a lot with a good mood.

"I... I've never met a pony as generous as you. Who would have thought I'd get help from a stranger. Thank you again."

I nod and head further down the road.