There is no such thing as a society, only a collection of ponies with their own thoughts, ideals and beliefs.

The sharp ringing of an alarm clock tore Drill Bit from his sleep, violently shaking in his sweat-drenched sheets, he quickly reached for and hit the clock’s buzzer, causing it to stop.

Taking a moment to himself, he allowed his heart rate to slow down and his nerves to settle.

“Another nightmare, I wish you were still with us princess.” He thought to himself as he leaned up.

Drill peeled off the dampened sheets of his bed and clambered to his hooves, giving his head a quick shake to rid himself of grogginess.

It was the early hours of the morning, light just about peeked through his room’s sole window, illuminating what little he had. A tight apartment with a table, a couple of chairs, a wardrobe full of clothes, his tattered bed, and a bookshelf with a variety of entries, most of them work related.

Yet as he began donning his uniform, he couldn’t help but be drawn to one item in particular sat among the paperbacks. That of an old picture frame of him and a copper orange mare, an ink message scrawled below.

“Press on Drill, for a brighter tomorrow!”

The stallion halted for a moment, before stepping forward and picking it up, pleasant memories and colourful images sprang to mind, if only to be stopped dead by the sound of a horrific scream and a crash. When the dust cleared what followed was a melancholic aftertaste, tinged with guilt as heavy as an anvil.

“Ten years later and I’m still here, If only you could’ve joined me Copper.” He placed the frame back in its spot as he resumed clothing himself, fastening layers of thick, insulative clothing over his fur with his mind bouncing between different threads of thought.

“Things used to be so simple, beautiful, colourful. Where did the love go? Where did Friendship go?”

It was a question he asked almost every day as his eyes lazily panned across his shelves as he thought to himself, until they fell upon one specifically.

Steamtech Basics, by Professor Fire Heart. The book having an emblem of a copper cog surrounding a plume of orange and red flame on its side and face.

Fire Heart, the mare that started it all.

The machines and new devices, the institutions and competitive industries, perhaps even the tensions between Equestria and Griffonia, they could all trace their origins back to that one unicorn mare. The one that had saved, and maybe damned, all of them.

Drill shelved the thought lest he go off on another mental tangent, he didn’t need that early in the day and especially not before work.

He tightened the last band around his forehoof and locked the door behind him, venturing into the cramped wood and steel corridors of the building, passing by dozens of other tenants, many crammed into the same bunks.

All things considered he was better off then most of them, being a forepony came with some benefits, like privacy, something many of his peers lacked. Even now he could hear the various family units around him trying to prepare their kids for the day ahead, and calm their cries of protest thereafter.

Eventually he made it to the front door and glanced at the thermometer beside, his eyes widening not so much with shock as surprise.

“Thirty-seven degrees? Oh it’s going to be one of those days, at least I have the extra layers.”

Taking a deep breath, Drill braced himself and stepped outside, out into the freezing cold that awaited him.

Walking outside, he was surrounded by towering buildings of concrete and steel that consistently bellowed an endless stream of dark, acrid smoke from their chimneys. Between them was a vast network of pipes and cables, interlocking webs of iron that occasionally hissed and spat. The proverbial veins of a city that led to a single, monolithic structure, its constant pumping of steam akin to the beating heart of a body, nested in the very centre of the city.

A massive, multi-story furnace who casted a shadow large enough to be used as a sundial should one view from above. A monument to modern engineering, pony resolve and the brainchild of Equestria’s brightest minds.

New Canterlot’s Tower Generator.

A thick plume of white vapour escaped his mouth, briefly obscuring his vision as he felt the cold air freeze the hair in his nostrils. The air stank of iron and soot, the pipes under the wooden road below gurgling as they fed the city with heat, and everywhere he looked he saw ponies in tattered clothes and home stitched rags, tightly wrapped scarfs and well worn boots. The best defence anypony could offer beside their chest mounted slow burners.

It was everything Drill Bit hated.

And yet he, along with everycreature else, would be dead without it.

He took another deep breath in and felt his lungs protest from the onset of bitter chill, causing a light cough as he exhaled. His stomach then grumbled and he fought to contain an annoyed groan.

“Better double time it to the cookhouse, nopony’s gonna want to stay outside for long.”

Shaking his head, Drill refocused and set off down the streets, passing through tight alleyways and low underpasses, keeping to himself as he weaved around other ponies, the movement helping fight back the growing chill.

It was a far cry from the days he’d wave a hoof to greet them, one of the little things he’d taken for granted. Obviously, it wasn’t like he didn’t want to, but as a stallion in his early forties his priorities just…changed.

A lot of things did.

This wasn’t the Equestria he’d grown up in, the Princesses were nowhere to be found. Ponykind was, at best, scattered, and friendship amounted more to a pleasant distraction to have than a building block of their culture.

So many things, so quickly. Was he just having another sad string of thoughts, or was that just his age changing his perception of time?

Whatever the case, he was interrupted when he heard the distant clangs of something large and heavy, slowly moving towards him. A thick trail of smoke moving past the rooftops before him, and mechanical thumping that prompted him to once more fight to contain a groan.

From around the corner, a huge, tall, quadrupedal mechanical walker stomped its way down the street. Its boxy body lacked any kind of head or tail. Its long, lanky legs avoiding the wooden boards and instead crashing down upon the few spots in the road paved with cobblestone. The weight of the steel giant likely snapping them like twigs otherwise.

Drill Bit pressed himself against the nearest building he could, trying to steer clear, the ground shaking with every impact of its massive legs. One of them landed a hoof’s length from him, the end of its long stilt was covered in bits of ice and grime, nearly obscuring the panels hiding Celestia knows what inside.

He didn’t have time to ponder however, as soon it arose and almost struck him in the process despite his prior caution. Thankfully it didn’t but the stallion couldn’t stifle his wordless curse as he ducked.

The machine continued down the street as it had, leaving as quickly as it came.

“Bucking Automatons, at least they give plenty of warning.”

It was humbling at first, being overshadowed by such a sight, but like all things it quickly became mundane, another to add to the list of things he wasn’t fond of but had to deal with.

Shaking his head, Drill refocused and picked up the pace.

Not long after did he reach the cookhouse, but by the looks of things he’d been beaten to the punch.

Outside, a long, winding queue of ponies lined up in droves, all of them eager to fill their growling bellies as the building’s chimney struggled to banish its smoke quickly enough. Melted ice and snow slowly crawling down the oxidised copper roof.

“Oh you're kidding me, is Eastwood Cookhouse closed again?” He grumbled. After a second look Drill did notice ponies were leaving just as quick as they came. He sighed, “Whatever, maybe it won’t be too ba-”

Drill was once more interrupted, this time by the bellow of a foghorn that echoed throughout the city. Loud enough to make the stallion cringe as it blasted his ears. The horn was followed by a voice that crackled to life on well used loudspeakers.

“Up and at em’ everypony, time for work!”

Drill Bit facehooved, his stomach complaining likewise. Now he was left with a couple of options, either be late for work and hold up the entire site, or push through on an empty stomach…

Again…

The thought to quell his aching insides tempted him enough, and he likely knew what strain he’d be in for should he neglect himself.

But one look at a nearby poster reminded him of the cost of such a delay.

He didn’t like those posters, the very thought made him gag. It at least dispelled his appetite, but in doing so replaced the hunger pains with queasiness.

“Screw it, I’ve done this before, might as well do it again.”

Biting his lip, Drill Bit pushed on towards the industrial district. If it was going to be one of those days then he might as well roll with the punches. Push comes to shove, it was better to get things over with and start fresh tomorrow.

Still, he couldn’t deny it would’ve been therapeutic to voice his complaints every once and a while. Not like anyone would listen, but better than bottling them up.

He passed by several more buildings, Concrete and wood were replaced with cold steel and stone grey brick walls, and many were now adorned with red painted roofs to indicate which were a hazard to stand under. Despite their efforts, clearing every overhang of icicles was a losing battle, but steps had to be taken to avoid injuries. Especially with the current morning rush.

So many ponies were moving to and fro that even with its much wider roads, the district was still crowded. Drill had to put conscious effort into identifying which paths to take, but in the end, was able to navigate the herd.

But not before he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks.

There before him, perched atop the slanted roof of a warehouse, was an owl.

Its back was turned to the sun, making it difficult to determine any other details beyond its silhouette and its large, unblinking eyes.

Drill felt a horrible chill run up his spine and he briefly forgot to breathe. Images and ghostpains of the nightmare prior sprang to mind, he just stood there. It couldn’t have been for more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.

He’d have likely stayed stationary had his sudden halt not seen him be swiftly bumped into by one of the workers, instinct took over and he turned to them before they quickly exchanged apologies. When he turned to look back, the owl had disappeared.

With newfound nervousness he rubbed the back of his neck and continued forward, now a little more anxious than before. Putting that in the back of his mind, he felt relief when he finally arrived outside the Ore Processing plant.

The door was unlocked, which meant Steel Beam had let everypony in early.

“Thank Celestia, it would've been pretty shameful to see everypony freezing because of me. I’ll have to thank him.”

As he opened the door and walked inside however, he quickly found yet another poster plastered over the foyer wall, right beside the card puncher.

It was hoof drawn with a few simple colours, reds, orange and blacks. Yet the image it spun was that of a group of ponies bound in chains, their heads hanging low as they walked head first into a literal meat grinder, all under the watch of a Diamond Dog pushing them in at gunpoint with a rifle.

Right below the ghastly image were the words…“We’re ponies, not livestock! Support the fight for our future!”

It may have been a good thing Drill hadn’t eaten, because the nausea from before returned as did the intrusive thoughts he’d tried to banish. Of course, hearing about something and seeing it were two different things, but the power of imagination was as horrible as it was wondrous, and he gagged at the morbid thoughts.

With haste he punched in his card and pushed through the second set of doors, which blasted him with a wave of warm air, washing him in sweet relief from the cold outside.

He was greeted by the familiar sight of the workplace, his little home away from home.

Traditionally, most of the machinery would’ve been outside where it was easy to access. But the threat of frostbite and drive for insulation saw much of it modernised and condensed, crammed into a factory-like warehouse right beside a major iron mine.

And judging by the mountains of raw minerals, they’d worked overnight again.

Oddly enough however, he didn’t see very many ponies mulling about. Usually they would’ve gotten started already if he hadn’t arrived.

Knowing what to do, Drill reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a whistle, before giving it a hard blow.

Several figures emerged from behind various stations and blocks of machinery. Among them were some familiar faces, like the ever stoic Steel Beam, but many were foreign to the forepony. He preemptively put on a smile as he prepared to greet them but when he saw the short stature of the new arrivals, his demeanour changed.

Only a hoofful of ponies where ones from his crew, the rest…were children.

Yes, children, no older than fourteen, but no younger than nine. They’d at least made a neat little line before him, either end flanked by one of his workers. When they were done Drill cranked his head toward a cream mare a decade younger than him, Soda Stream.

He gazed at her, not needing to utter a word as the mare read his mind. “Explain.”

Soda tensed up and rolled her shoulders. “Sorry Drill, the others got reallocated to Timberlane row, factory work. So they sent…” She quieted, ”replacements.”

Drill took a deep breath in as he panned between the kids. A mixture of all three races and all colts, some with forced smiles but most with nervous frowns. There were enough to fill up a classroom and greatly outnumbered the remainder of his crew.

“Yep, one of those days.”

Clearing his throat, he buried his frustrations as best he could, it was pointless crying about it now but that didn’t make it any easier. There were many things he knew he’d have to say goodbye to when the frost came, but this?

This was almost too much.

“Okay kids, my name is Drill Bit, I’m the pony in charge and that means I’m also very busy. While you're free to come to me with any concerns and questions, I do encourage you to try talking to my…” Drill turned to the workers. “Friends, they’ll be here to help you learn and work.”

The stallion then gestured for Steel and Soda to draw in close, lowering his voice but while keeping an authoritative undertone.

“Soda Stream, Steel, this is no place for children. I’ll try talking to the work office after shift, but for now, we have quotas to meet. Please try to keep them out of trouble or from hurting themselves, okay?”

Both ponies nodded their heads before leaving, likely to spread the word with the other workers. Drill’s team was down to a skeleton crew, take a leg or two, and having to wrangle a bunch of kids at the same time would no doubt strain them further.

“Bucking labour laws.”

A few hours into the shift and things hadn’t gotten any easier, Drill had managed to teach some of the kids how to do simple tasks. Things like what kinds of ore goes in what machine, how much coal needed to go into the furnace and how to alter the speed of the conveyor belts.

But for all intents and purposes he wasn’t preparing them as if they were here to stay.

No this was a band aid solution and he knew it, soon he’d get an actual workforce and things would go back to normal. It was just the current struggle of making sure nopony jumped into an ore grinder that had him on edge.

Regrettably however, he did have to make concessions with allowing some of them to watch over the machines. There just weren’t enough members of his team to cover each base, and that annoying gremlin in his belly wasn’t calming down, if anything it was getting angrier. Already he found his focus being broken up by the growls below, but he did his best to contain his temper, if only to spare the children of seeing his ugly side. Celestia knows they have enough to worry about.

The kids didn’t ask for this and the last thing they needed was to be shouted at.

He stood atop a platform glancing between the ore washer and an open-panel grinder. Which had a trio of kids steady feeding it ore from a nearby wheelcart.

The thought of them working so close to a machine that was powerful enough to turn them to paste was beyond unnerving, which may have been a good thing. It was a sign he still knew right and wrong despite the new world he lived in.

But as much as he wanted to pull them away and send them home, he knew the work office would have his job for it. Another cruel sign of the way the world had shifted.

The end of the world can change a lot of things and give new perspectives, he never would’ve guessed the sanctity of childhood could be questioned otherwise.

Organising a strike would’ve been his first thought, but he’d heard stories of how quickly those were nipped in the bud during the construction of the Tower Generator. Who’s to say he wouldn’t be replaced with somepony less concerned with their wellbeing? Or worse.

No, as heartbreaking as it was, this was better. Or the lesser of two evils anyway.

Drill soon redrew his focus and headed towards another nearby machine, it was good practice not to stay in place for too long and check in. Besides, he needed something to distract him from these damn hunger pains.

He found Steel Beam helping a group operate a set of stamp mills, pounding and crushing chunks of ore into pebbles the further along a conveyor belt they got. Each kid had a pair of goggles shielding their eyes which gave Drill Bit a smile. The kids even seemed to be enjoying it somewhat, granted it was tiring them out pulling such large weights around but it was a little thing.

“I see your taking your duty in stride Steel, is everything going well?”

The quiet stallion only responded with a subtle nod.

It wasn’t quite what he was looking for but Drill didn’t blame him, he was never the talkative type, even before this whole mess. Still, the draft pony was one of the few ponies he could confide in all these years later. Especially nowadays, sometimes having somepony who could simply listen was all one needed.

So with a more sincere undertone he asked. “Do you mind if I talk for a moment?”

Steel suddenly turned to him and sensing the air, pulled down his goggles. He nodded once more and both took a few steps away from the mill.

“Problem?”

All Drill had to do was take one glance at the kids for Steel to get his answer. “Well it’s not just that.” He turned back to Steel.

“I had a…nightmare last night. It was about a birthday I was having before the Frost and I was having a nice time. But then I saw an owl and…It was like the Great Storm all over again.”

Drill paused to gauge Steel’s reaction, the draft pony nodded as he listened and allowed him to continue.

“The reason I bring this up is…well I saw an owl on my way to work today, like the one in my dream. Then I arrive and suddenly we’re looking after a bunch of kids. I’m usually not one for superstition but I’ve heard it’s a sign of bad luck, is that right?”

Steel bobbed his head from side to side as he contemplated the question. When he spoke he was quiet, just audible enough over the growling machinery around them.

“It can go either way.”

Drill looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, bad luck’s one outcome, but seeing an owl during the day can also be an omen for wisdom, and changes in your life.”

“Changes?” Drill laughed, “Well if the change is to work with a crew of kids, I’m pretty sure it’s bad luck.”

Steel simply shrugged.

“I mean, what kind of world do we live in that we have to resort to…” He waved a hoof. “-this?”

“I blame the Windigos.” Steel added.

“Oh so you think the Windigos came back?” Drill chuckled, having considered such an idea but forsaken it long ago.

“Isn’t it obvious? When’s the last time you heard of the Element Bearers doing something?”

Drill paused, briefly trying to flip through his memories for anything relevant, only to come up short. “Oh, well, I’m sure they’re busy in their own ways.” He shrugged.

However, Steel continued. “Or what about that accident with Celestia?” He leaned in. “News stayed awfully vague on what happened.”

Once more Drill was at a loss, Steel might've been a quiet pony verbally, but that just gave his mind space to fill in the blanks. He had to be careful, the stallion was like a faucet. Normally things stayed dry but when it rained, it poured. And there was no telling what would come out.

From what he remembered, there was a newspaper article that had stirred up some controversy before the frost. It was a small, nearly tiny block of text tucked away a few pages deep that stated Celestia had been involved in an accident of some kind and that she was abstaining from royal duties to recover.

Maybe Steel was right to be suspicious? Maybe the Windigos did return? Maybe Celestia’s accident was more serious than the papers said? Or maybe some dark wizard out there had casted a spell. Drill Bit could ask these questions all day but unlike Steel Beam, he knew he’d never get his answer.

In the end the best he could offer was a slow huff of defeat.

Steel took it as a sign and slinked back, placing a comforting hoof on his shoulder. “Hey, you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah…yeah I will, thanks.”

As if to disprove him, Drill suddenly felt his stomach twist like a rag, trying to squeeze out whatever nutrients from last night’s dinner it may have had left. The pain so sharp it prompted him to grasp his barrel with a hoof, a vain attempt to dull the pain.

Steel bent down and looked at him in concern. “You okay?”

“I…may have skipped breakfast as well.” He smiled sheepishly.

The other stallion rolled his eyes and mirrored his smile, patting his shoulder also before gesturing for him to leave. Drill nodded and began walking away as Steel went back to work.

Not long later Drill caught sight of the kids he had working the ore grinder, but his smile vanished and his eyes shot wide the moment he laid eyes on the situation.

One of the kids, a blue pegasus, had just started screaming when Drill turned the corner.

His right wing had got stuck in the grinder, and was slowly pulling him inside…

Author's Note

New Canterlot focuses much of its labour on its heavy industry to pump out vehicles and equipment. This easily makes it one of the most industrialised cities within the Frostland with trade and household goods cast aside in favour of military strength.