Chapters "Mr. Dusk, did ponies really used to live outside of the cities? I mean, like, besides those mines and stuff."
The question took a moment to pierce the thick layer of apathy that I wore the same as my threadbare jacket. It was Sawdust, the new kid.
"Yes, actually. In fact, half a century ago there were more ponies living in the countryside and in small towns than in cities. That is not even to mention the gryphons, zebras, and dragons who had almost nothing resembling cities at the time," I said, pushing my glasses up my nose a bit.
The little tan and ochre colt sat for a moment, tapping his hoof on his chin, before some foal tried to throw a stylus at his head until I caught it with my magic.
"That's dumb, who cares what happened a zillion years ago? Shut up so we can leave already!" spat Razor Burn, who'd failed preliminaries several times and was now older than any of his classmates by several years.
The class became quiet for a fraction of a moment before the low rumble of murmurs and conversation resumed. I shot Razor Burn a cold glare but he just made a noise and waved a hoof at me as he turned to look out the slit window.
When I looked back Sawdust was gone and the classroom door was swinging on its rusty hinges.
"Class dismissed, projects due in 2 weeks. Refer to the notes on Chapter 9 for the DSCore database login credentials. Remember to only used vetted papers and models, that's 20% of the grade!" before I had even finished half of the class was already out of the room. Everyone was shuffling around a dark grey mare with a pink mane who was looking decidedly not happy and directly at me.
"And be sure to have a wonderful Dawnray day, courtesy of Dawncare Academics and Education!" she pipped with as much manufactured enthusiasm as a cheap AI assistant.
Once all of the students had left and she finished flashing those creepy half smiles everywhere she closed the door with a sharp kick from her back leg.
"Every day, the morning motto and the afternoon one. It. Is. Not. Hard. Silver Dusk," she punctuated every jabbed word with a severe step forwards. She puffed a gust of hot air in my face and leveled a cold stare.
"Your incompetence, faltering memory, or deliberate indifference to corporate policy aside I have come for other reasons today. Consider that a sliver of fortune on your part, otherwise I'd have you up on several article 15's," she said.
"How can I help you Ms. Skies?" I said.
"Ms. Clear Skies," she said.
"Ms. Clear Skies," I Said.
"The entire question again, if you would," she said.
"How can I help you, Ms. Clear Skies?" I said.
"Corporate cutbacks, we're cutting you lose. You needn't worry about your employment however as Dawncare is contracting you and several other dead weight staff to another facility. The ninth district Dawncare Pre-Vocational School," she said.
"ninth district?!" I replied incredulously.
"Oh yes, they were quite certain. If the rumors I hear are true, and they very so often are, they are re-opening the Pre-Vo school to comply with some compromise pact with a recent influx of zebra refugees. Apparently it's policy to give refugees 'an opportunity for self-advancement'. Have fun sitting behind a desk in a mop closet for the rest of your career," she said, with a surprising amount of venom. Surprising even given her normal toxic disposition.
I stared for a long time before sinking into myself. Sitting flat on my haunches I threw up a little in my mouth. That was the only time in my life I had ever seen the pegasus Clear Skies smile. She left slower than how she entered, I think she wanted to hear me cry. If she did, she got her wish.
//
They'd given me a week to settle in to my new hole-in-the-wall apartment in the ninth district. I should consider myself lucky that they at least gave me a working housing voucher, though something tells me the Residence Authority in this district wasn't as concerned with invalid housing vouchers as they were with keeping vandals from setting their offices on fire.
A package was on my counter from last night, the first bit of mail at my new address that wasn't bills or adverts. I was only half surprised to find a weather-beaten Bullmek BK-10c pistol, the Equestrian Expeditionary Forces variant of the common self-defense handgun. Dusty Dunes was an old friend of mine, us having the happenstance of attending the same schools throughout our foalhood. We only got separated when she went to serve two tours in the EEF. She'd tried to give me her old service weapon when I first told her about my re-assignment but I'd refused. I was never really a gun pony, especially when most situations could be resolved with an application of the right spell.
With a resigned sigh I closed the hard-shell weapons case and put it back in the chipboard box it came in. Shoving it under my bed I threw myself down onto the refurbished sheets and began scrolling through my phone. Nothing but click-bait news and orientation emails from DC, I tried calling Dusty but her line was off. She liked to ghost from tech every now and then, called it a crutch. Either way I couldn't even afford to post her weapon back to her right now. It'd have to wait until I got my first pay stub.
Several worn brown coats with similarly wore out black ties, a small plastiTuff keepsake container, a box of double-caff tea, and a paper bowl of starchy noodles from the corner bar I had passed on the way here. Besides my phone and my lethal parcel package that was the sum total of my possessions. There was no way I was paying 10 kB for my stuff to get shipped here, most of it was corp-issued junk anyways. Only thing I was going to miss was the coffee maker built into the wall. Always the perfect 193-degree cup of un-fuck my head needed in the morning. Tea would do for now.
A thunderous knocking at the door caused me to nearly throw myself out of bed. My gaze darted around before the knocks came again, and faster. Glancing beneath the bed before trotting to the door I would've checked the peephole if it hadn't been replaced by a bolt. I cracked open the door only to have it shoved back in my face, spending me sprawling on the ground.
"You're not Smokestack..." he said.
Too afraid to respond I simply shook my head.
"You know that shitstain? He owes me 200 kB and Ol' Rusty always gets paid," he said.
I shook my head again, wanting to ready some kind of spell but fearing he might crack my horn the moment he saw it light up.
The big pony crawled off me and dusted himself off before jabbing a hoof into my chest several times hard enough to wind me.
"Lime green coat, pale blue mane, usually tryin' to push something on ya. If you see that grimy SOB tell him Ol' Rusty wants what's his, and yesterday!" he shouted, shoving me back on my haunches as I tried to stand.
Just like that he was gone. Hurrying quickly to my hooves, I closed my door quietly and put the chain on.
I had trouble sleeping that night, so I counted the bullets in the BK-10c's magazines until morning.
Fifteen each, thirty in total.
//
Cold noodles and sink tea were my dawn companions soon followed by the Bullmek and its chest holster which I hid under my coat. Today being the first day I was required to show at the academy I got out of my apartment just after the heating towers hummed up.
The ninth district Dawncare Pre-Vocational School had more cobwebs, rusty hinges, and missing ceiling tiles than most abandoned buildings, then again up until recently it was an abandoned building. Heading to the principal's office I tightened my tie and adjusted my glasses before entering. A peach-coated mare with an ash gray mane sat behind an old wooden desk. Besides the paper thin carpet, the room was almost cozy, you almost didn't notice the smell of mildew.
"Good morning ma'am. I am Silver Dusk, here on reassignment as a teacher," I said.
"No need for the 'ma'am' here, just call me Gabby, short for Gabriela,” she said, pulling a p-Ink writing pad and setting it on her desk in front of me.
"You ruffled someone's feathers to get here but as long as you just do your job and don't cause a ruckus we'll be fine. Schedules and rosters are on the pad and you'll have credentials to the school's database when we get one," she said
Levitating the pad, I scrolled through my classes.
"Uhm, Gabby... I- is this the complete roster? I don't see any, well..." I said.
"Ponies. Or gryphons, or dragons, or kirin for that matter. For now, due to the minimal budget, large amount of refugees, and regulatory compliance, our school is almost exclusively zebra in the composition of its student body," she said.
"Ah," I said.
"Whatever reservations you have keep them to yourself. Do what you can, no one's expecting you to be some super pony. You'll have a translator assigned to you, she'll be your teaching assistant and facilitate communications with those who don't speak equestrian. I recommend forming a strong working relationship with them. It's all on that pad, don't lose it," she said.
"Of course. I should get ready for the first class," I said, nodding and turning to leave.
The room was like any other classroom just missing a few tiles. Every desk was defaced in some manner, including the teacher's desk that was to be mine. The room did curve slightly and have a large open space in front of the scribble-covered dry board, ostensibly for hands-on vocational instruction. I had 45 minutes until the class began and I spent most of it scrubbing the dry board with cleaner and dirty rags. When I had cleared a good spot in the middle I stopped to scrape together what pencils and scraps of paper were available. Just as I finished sharpening the last pencil a bell rung. It sounded like an old church bell but much quieter.
Soon striped colts and fillies of various ages began trickling into the classroom. Indecipherable foreign chatter filled the ambience of the room and not a single word of it was equestrian. A lot of the older ones, especially the ones with the gold bands around their forehooves and necks, clustered at the back of the classroom. They barely even looked my way. Most of the others, either younger or smaller, found seats or sat against the wall. As the last few made their way into the classroom a winged zebra with a short unkempt mohawk and an orange bandana around her neck trotted in and sat herself down in the chair next to mine. She was older than the others by a wide margin so I made a logical assumption.
"You must be the translator," I said.
With a raised eyebrow she said something in zebrican before kicking her hind legs up on the desk.
"Sable Sakra," she said.
"Can you please take your legs off my desk?" I said.
Narrowing her eyes, she reluctantly complied before responding.
"Another corporate cast-off sent to meet their quota," she said.
Ear twitching, I shot a sidelong glance her way as I turned to face the class.
"Good morning class, my name is Silver Dusk and I will be your teacher," I said, addressing the entire room. I got blank stares from the ones who were listening and the mumbling crowd on the back was even looking my way.
"If I could have your attention please, there in the back?" I projected.
Stomping my hoof on the beaten desk I made enough noise to get everyone's attention.
"Eyes forward, find your seats fillies and colts. Today is the first day so I just want to go over some study techniques," I said.
The crowd in the back started murmuring while they all looked at me. None of them went to their seats.
One of them, the oldest teen by his size, strutted up and jumped onto my desk. I staggered back as he smiled wickedly and stamped on the table, mocking me as he spat out a long string of zebrican. I had to assume it was not flattering as the entire class giggled and laughed in response.
"Silver Duck, Zoko," he said, jabbing his hoof into me chest before gesturing to himself. He jumped off the desk and returned to his group. I sat at a loss for words for a few seconds, then I stood and began my lesson.
Over the next hour and a half, I went over note-taking, how to maximize study effectiveness with breaks, and test taking strategies. I was regularly interrupted by mocking tones from the back or random bits of debris thrown my way from the same but I finished the lesson after what felt like an eternity. When the bell rung relief washed over me as I sank into my chair while the zebras left, all except one.
"It's the gun," said Sable Sakra.
"What? But I nev-"
"These aren't asylum seekers, they're war refugees. The Kardaugh Expansion has been active in their homelands for longer than most have been alive. They can see a pistol through a coat," she said.
I simply stared for the longest before she rolled her eyes.
"The wey'la sees anyone that carries a weapon as a warrior. They'll push and challenge you until you push back or back down," she said.
"So... I'll leave it at home," I said.
She laughed.
"Then you'll be just a pasanani, they won't even acknowledge your presence then. Wey'la, the warriors, will only listen to a warrior of equal or greater strength," she said.
"Are you suggesting I should fight my students?" I said.
Another chuckle.
"Maybe. It would be entertaining atleast. Watching you get picked apart in hoof-to-hoof combat would certainly get everyone's eyes and ears on you," she said.
"I know more than a few relatively harmless spells that could put them in their place," I said.
"Unicorn magic. Then you'll lose the respect of every colt and filly in this classroom, I'd say you'd lose mine aswell but you don't have it to begin with," she scoffed.
"What in Celestia's golden arse am I supposed to do then?" I said.
She simply shrugged with a dismissive flick of her ear.
"Read a book, let them be. Even the other gue'la kids that stared at you during your how-to-read lecture don't care about what you say. They just have nowhere else to be, nothing else to do," she said.
Looking at the empty classroom I laid my chin on my desk. After some minutes Sable Sakra left me to my somber ponderings. Another hour and I left the school, stopping by the corner bar for noodles.
Chapter 2 - Kick in the Head
That smell of warm rubber drug me from my sleep. A soft green glow filled my windows. The constant hum of the heating towers sounded like an old microwave running on a dying power cell. Hot, stale, and dry air gave me a sore throat and cottonmouth. Everything was just the same as it had always been, so why did I feel so different?
The ninth district was obviously far from safe but what I was feeling wasn't fear. Well, ok, there was some fear... But that wasn't what was carving a hole through me. I couldn't put my hoof on it.
Trotting to the cramped kitchenette I rubbed the grime off the stainless steel mirror above my sink before taking a look. Wildly unkempt silver-grey mane, Dawnray prescription glasses, and those poison-green eyes staring back at me. Shifting I glanced at my cutie mark. A pale crescent moon set against a matted dark blue sky.
"A cutie mark for something I've never seen. Always hated that particular flavor of cosmic humor," I said.
Born 35 years prior I never saw the moon or the sun, but somehow I managed to get a cutie mark of one. Never would have pictured my hobby of stuffing my nose into old paper books to yield me such a brand. It puzzled the corpo aptitude scouts at my schools, my mom said it was a blessing from the goddess Luna, Dusty always shrugged and offered me more soda.
Frankly, I couldn't have cared less.
A chime from my phone told me it was time to head out.
"Good timing, I almost had some real self-reflection," I said.
Room temperature tap water and some double caff peeled my eyelids back a bit. The Bullmek pistol was hung from the bed in its holster. I levitated over halfway before stopping. It was time to try a different approach. Hanging it back on my bedpost I left for the school.
There it was, that feeling again.
//
It started to rain on my walk to the school. The corner bar where I got my noodles provided good cover, and since I left early I had time to spare. A kirin was behind the bar, deftly ladling soup into bowls and filling foam cups with a steaming liquid that looked like black tea but smelt like an exotic three-course meal. A few other patrons lined the other chairs and chatted amongst themselves. Looking up I tried to read the neon sign hug from the ceiling but it was in kana script.
"Hwanyo chi Tia Nimini, it means 'Fresh Food for Old Souls," the kirin said.
She had emerald green hair and a pale brown coat. Her apron was stained with grease and her hair tied in a bun set with a brass needle.
"Huh, would've thought a pony like you would speak equestrian," she said.
I blinked.
"Sorry, I'm just... In my thoughts is all," I said.
"We're out of noodles," she said, dumping a pot into a wide cook pan.
"But, doesn't that have noodles in it?" I said, pointing to a bulbous pot filled to the brim with starch noodles.
"No noodles, spiced dumplings is all that's left," she said, sliding a plate of steaming dumplings in front of me with red and green colors inside.
"Wha- Hey isn't ther-" I said, before she abruptly turned away from me to wash plates. I was hungry so I reluctantly levitated one of the dumplings, half the size of my hoof, up to my mouth and nibbled.
Suddenly it was very hot, beads of sweat ran down from my brow, my tongue needed a hospital, and I took another bite. I couldn't help myself, it was amazing. The rush of flavors had full gladiatorial combat in my mouth, fighting for the right to dominate my overwhelmed sense of taste even as my nostrils filled with spicy aroma. The kirin looked over her shoulder with a sly grin as I hungrily downed another dumpling.
I made quick work of the rest of the plate. Turns out that they name of the shop was printed on them, in equestrian.
"Siojiu's Fresh Food for Old Souls," I said before looking back up at her. She had prepped a box of my normal noodles with some spiced dumplings in a to-go box. They had the name shop name on them, also in equestrian.
Huh.
“Pony should think,” she said softly, “not about what lies ahead or behind, but what he sees in front of him,” she said as she handed me the box of food, the same folded paper box that I'd been getting from her the last two days.
"Thank you Ms. Siojiu," I said.
"Of course, Mr. Dusk," she said, smiling genuinely.
It was about twenty steps away when I stopped and looked back, I didn't tell her my name... did I? She just waved a hoof. I waved back. My phone vibrated in my inner coat pocket. I was going to be late. Part of me wanted to just wait so I could be late enough to cancel the whole class. A nice thought, but not realistic.
Cradling the noodles and dumplings beneath my coat to protect them from the rain on hurried to the school grounds.
//
Shutting he school's front doors behind me I wrung my tail out as I tried to bury the dread of the impending day. These students were impossible.
Dripping wet I entered the classroom, puddles formed around me as I looked up. The students were already all here.
"Sorry class, got caught up in the weather," I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck.
I hung my coat on my chair and removed my soaked rag of a tie as I shook out my hair and levitated a marker from the desk drawer.
"Couldn't you have made a magic umbrella or something?" said Sable, waving her hoof at me like she was casting some spell. She was propped up in the same place as yesterday, looking unimpressed.
"Abjuration and conjuration are not really my specialties," a blank look. "The schools of magic that deal with creating force fields and objects from the stuff of magic," I said.
"Pretty useless to have a horn if you can't even stay dry in the rain. If you can't make an umbrella what can you do?" she said.
"Well, Sable Sakra, I play with light," I said, levitating the marker back to the drawer.
Now it was my turn to smirk. My horn glowed as I spun the ambient mana in the room into lines and shapes. Slithering strings of bright amber light formed in the air, moving as a snake does through water.
In the empty space between the board and the desks little wireframe buildings and miniature heating towers constructed themselves from the strings of light. A blanket of amber magic formed beneath them and began to morph to match the landscape surrounding Manehattan as the buildings moved with it. The coastal bay opened to a solid polygonal chunk of blue light where scattered structures stood tall above its surface. Massive thermal barriers rose up around the city's borders in a big hexagonal ring and more skyscrapers erupted to fill the skyline. When it was done I was sweating and there was that buzzing at the base of my horn that told me I was going to have a headache later but that didn't matter, this was worth it.
The magical model of the city filled the entire empty space and even stretched under some of the desks. Gasps and muttered excitement filled the room as every zebra, even the troublemakers, look on. Sable Sakra couldn't resist standing and staring herself. Their big round eyes all looking at my light city was enough for me.
"Wow..." said Sable.
"This is Manehattan, set on the eastern coast of Equestria. It was a hub of trade before the sundown and continues to be one," I pointed a hoof at the blue chunk as mini amber ships appeared. "Fleets of icebreaker ships operated by Tempest Maritime clear paths for Freebay Cooperative cargo vessels carrying goods in from the gryphons and other nearby nations," I said.
Having the attention of everyone I pointed to a less developed southern part of the city. "This is the ninth district, where we are. Removed from the city's sprawling commercial core it houses many residents and laborers for neighboring industrial districts," I created a copy of one of the heating towers and enlarged it while making it hover over the city model. It resembled an oversized medieval mace with corrugated fins covering every exposed surface.
"This is one of hundreds of super-conducting dispersive heating towers spread throughout the city. Owned by the Manehattan Municipal Energy Agency, built and maintained by ClearTech, they operate in conjunction with countless miles of underground thermal vents, numerous heat storage bunkers, and several massive thermoelectric plants to ensure Manehattan maintains a livable temperature," I said.
Rotating the scaled heating tower, I made the form come apart carefully, showing the intricacies of its conduction coils, heat pipes, Peltier plates, and its other parts. I stepped back and surveyed the class. All the younger kids were engaged and even most of the older kids seemed laser focused.
One of them in particular, a lanky but tall filly with a long droopy mohawk and wavy stripes, had a sparkle in her eye as her mouth hung agape. I looked at her and smiled, until Zoko shoved her aside and glared at the filly. She shrunk back like a withering flower and looked away as Zoko turned his heated gaze to me.
"Tricks of the light," said Zoko.
The stocky teen shoved his way through the crowd and stomped through the model of Manehattan causing it to warp in several places.
"Manipulation of ambient mana to form strings of slow arcano fires," I said, turning to track him as he shoved past me. Zoko stopped when he reached the doorway and looked back at his posse before shouting a string of zebrican at them. They looked at each other for a moment before they stormed down the center aisle.
"Keep playing with your petty spells, chezoth ," spat Zoko as he turned and left as the kids following him spat and cursed in my direction. The lanky filly looked over his shoulder and mouthed something before shutting the door.
I already knew Zoko was going to be an especially headache-inducing case but he just got upgraded to migraine grade. Damn, that feeling was cutting its way through my gut again. Those kids...
"Well he definitely does not like you, hates that you did something cool I bet." Said Sable.
"I just wanted to teach them..." I said weakly.
"You aren't gonna be able to reach them, they got their heads above wings they don't have," she said.
I thought about that for a moment. That there might be some colt or filly too far to save.
Save? Where the hell did that come from. I'm just their teacher. I'm just their teacher. It's not my place. I can't do anything outside the classroom. They're not my foals. I took a deep breath and let it out. Levitating out a marker I began drawing conduction, convection, and radiation diagrams.
"Ok everyone. Let's talk about how the heat gets from the plants, to the towers, to our bodies to keep us from the ice beyond," I said.
I continued the lecture, passing out paper and pencils and helping those who struggled copy the diagrams. Those that were left paid close attention that waned in some of the dryer points of thermal infrastructure. Even Sable listened, her usual slumped posture upright and attentive. The hour slid by in a moment. The bell rung. As the students began to leave I smiled.
Now it was just me and Sable again.
"You actually care, don't you?" she said.
"Hmm? Well, yes I suppose I do. I should after all. I am their teacher," I said, levitating my coat on.
"No, I saw that look earlier. That hurt crunch in your body. It wasn't when Zoko was yelling at you, it was when he left," she said, slowly walking towards me.
Huh.
"They... They were going to miss the lesson. Their academics will suffer," I said.
"Uh-huh, something tells me you're not the kind to dangle scores above a student's head. You care what happens to them don't you?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"I-" stammered. Is that what it was? It'd be ridiculous. I didn't even understand where they came from, anything about their culture or world views. How could I?
And yet, I wanted them here. Because Manehattan chewed people up and spat them out. They'd be stuck in these slums forever, maybe one day they'd run a gang and have control of a few blocks but they'd still be pawns of the corpos. Either way, the city would pull gobs of flesh from their bodies until nothing remained but bones in a sewer.
Could I prevent that? I didn't know. I don't think I cared. Whether it was possible or not I had to try.
"I do," I said. Straightening myself I fixed my tie tightly around my collar and snagged it.
Sable's eyes walked up and down my front some times before locking onto my eyes with a narrow look and a toothy grin.
"Shit. You're serious," she said. Rubbing her chin with a wing she looked off before returning the gaze.
"Tell you what, this weekend I wanna show you something," she said trotting past me.
"Uh, sure I guess. What is it?" I said, turning to follow her.
"Too late, you already agreed. When the weekend finds you come see me. I live at 303 on Brightwood," she said as she trotted out.
She seemed a lively sort.
I spent the rest of the day helping individual students and filling out initial evaluations for everyone to be turned in to Gabby.
At lunch the starch noodles tasted way better than the last few days and were irresistible when combined with the dumplings. One of the other teachers asked me if levitating globs of food into my mouth was like eating with my hooves. I chuckled and made a small fork of light. It was just for looks of course but garnered a laugh from her. Ms. Rudy Pastures was her name, she had a bouncy bush of a mane, freckles, and a golden yellow coat.
When I left the school part of me was still twisted up about Zoko and the others leaving but another part was actually happy that the other half stayed. Hell, I even got to know a teacher. I never even spoke to the other teachers outside of meetings back at the DC Youth Academy. For all the good of the day though I couldn't stop replaying the events in my head, what could I have done differently?
A scream.
I galloped towards the source, it was nearby. Right behind the school's disused annex. As I turned the corner I was horrified by what I saw. The same lanky filly from earlier was pinned against a wall, tears streaming down her face as Zoko and several others sawed off her hair and tail with blades.
"Stop! Get off her!" I screamed as I ran towards them. Most backed away but Zoko turned to face me as two kept the crying half-bald filly up against the wall.
"Her? Maybe my equestrian is poor, or maybe you are blind. The long hair and makeup are just this coward’s way of hiding. This is a colt," Spat Zoko as he threw a nasty one-leg buck square between the helpless lanky kid's rear legs. They crumpled and whimpered as tears ran down their cheeks.
"See?" said Zoko.
Rage. Blood-curdling anger. There was nothing else. I grit my teeth as my horn lit like a blowtorch.
"Going to make a pretty picture for us?" sneered Zoko as he smiled wickedly and laughed.
I strung a few tiny lines of light in front of the kid's tear-filled eyes. It was just big enough to read and hovered centimeters in front of their eyes. It said 'Look Away'. They clench their eyes and wrenched their head away. That was my cue.
Streetlights flicked as I drew on nearby sources for mana, the pressure building in my skull felt like I had 100-pound barbell balanced on my head.
These kids had never seen the sun, neither had I, but I imagined it looked something like what I manifested behind the annex that day. A blinding pure-white blast of light erupted from my horn with a crack like a whip. I could see it through my eyelids as they cried out in pain around me.
It only lasted half a moment before I saw what I'd done. Ten zebra teens curled up on the ground groaning in pain, rubbing their eyes. That was too much, way to fucking much. Shit these kids could be permanently blind from that much light! I didn't know what to do, so I did what I could.
The lanky kid had been dropped and was standing there on trembling legs. I slowly approached and placed a hoof on their shoulder, half for their comfort and half to keep me from collapsing as the spike of pain in my skull threatened to knock me out.
"You're fucking done for! I'm telling your whole family tonight; I'm telling them everything you henzotana !" yelled Zoko.
The kid's shakes got worse as they began to cry again.
"Let's go." I said.
They nodded dumbly as I walked us away from the school. The groaning of the other teens drowned out in the sudden downpour. We just walked in silence for what felt like an hour before I realized I didn't know where we were going. I turned to the kid and spoke softly.
"Where do you live?" I said.
They didn't respond.
"Do you speak equestrian?" I said.
Their ears twitched at 'equestrian' and they shook their head.
Great. I stopped us and tried gesturing the shape of a house while making a puzzled expression. They looked like they were about to cry again and looked away.
Well now what the hell was I supposed to do? I didn't know any zebras in this district.
Wait. I did know one, even where they lived.
//
Standing in the pouring rain I keyed the intercom, it was a few moments before the buzz sounded.
"Hey, Sable. I need your help," I said.
"Wha- is that you teach? I said the weekend remember?" she replied.
"Please," I said softly. "A kid is hurt,"
The door lock chimed and opened. I ushered the kid inside and shy the door behind us.
Sable flew down the stairwell and gasped in shock when she saw them. She breathed and rushed us up the stairs to her apartment on the third floor. By the time we were in I noticed that bruises were starting to swell on the kid's face.
Sable wasted no time getting an ice pack on their face and blanket around them. She put them on her couch with a hot cup of coffee.
"Uluthwe fuso calla calla, Zamor," Sable said. The kid winced at that.
"Shit, Zamora. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." she tried. Zamora just curled up underneath the blanket. Sable reached for her but stopped short. Instead she turned and pulled me aside into another room.
"Who did this to her? Zoko? Ghinu? Shiny?" she said.
"Z-" I started.
"That little kozak , I'll string him up by his balls and feed his eyes to the crows!" said Sable.
"Sable, I think I blinded him. It might be permanent," I said.
"Good, it better fucking be. Him and his little gang have been harassing Zamora since they were foals," she said.
"So... Is she transitioning?" I asked awkwardly.
She sighed and nodded. A bit of the anger leaked away as she stared off to the side.
"She's been struggling with it as long as I can remember. We were in the same tribe I should mention. Always managed to keep it a secret from her family. They'd disown her is they found out," she said.
That was not good.
"Zoko said something about telling her family, said he'd tell them everything," I said.
"That little shit!" she huffed, anger restored. "And just as Zamora was starting to come out of her shell. She had hoped she could get away with her appearance her in Equestria as long as she covered it up when she got home," said Sable.
"I know trans zebras aren't the most widespread thing but surely it isn't that bad, right?" I said. Here trans persons were tolerated, disliked by some but ultimately accepted if still discriminated against in some areas.
"It is. One of the worst taboos for a zebra. The elders say it is a rejection of one's true self, like denying fate. As if gender is just something that you roll a die for at birth and boom, that's it for the rest of your life. Maybe for them it's like that but it is not for Zamora," she said.
She scoffed and kicked the ground.
"Can't believe I called her Zamor at a time like this, I've only ever used that name when she was in front of family," said Sable.
"What do we do?" I said. This was so far out of my territory I couldn't even rationalize any sort of action.
"Zoko is vile enough to act on that threat. She can't go home; we can't put her through that. Her parents will tell the elders, they know we are close and they'll check my apartment. She can't stay anywhere in Zebratown," said Sable.
The train of logic in my brain only had one destination and I did not envy it. Everyone Sable knew would turn Zamora in and I knew no one in this district. I had never cared for a kid before, let alone a traumatized teen. I guess that didn't matter though, there wasn't a choice.
"She can stay with me," I said, surprising myself with the sincerity in my voice.
Sable stopped her darting eyes and slowly looked up at me. She threw herself at me and hugged me tight.
"You have no idea how much this means; Zamora is like a little sister to me," she said, voice cracking.
"I've got too. You said it yourself, there's no other way," I said.
Sable pulled herself away and wiped a tear from her face.
"There's a thousand paths, but only one to trot them," she said.
I raised an eyebrow and offered a quizzical expression. Sable waved a hoof and grinned.
"Just an old saying. Anyways, let me get you some things for Zamora. I don't imagine you've got much in the way of amenities at your place," she said.
"What makes you say that?" I said.
"You work at a school for refugees. Hardly someplace overflowing with bits," she said as she trotted back to the main room. I made a 'fair enough' shrug and followed her.
Sable went and sat in front of the ball of blanket on the couch.
Sable spoke soft zebrican while nudging the lump that was Zamora. The battered filly lifted her head from the blanket, streaks of eye liner running down her swollen cheeks. Sable embraced her in a warm hug and cried more than a few tears of her own.
Sable rose and patted Zamora on the shoulder before going to her kitchen to rummage through her cabinets. I sat next to the kid and offered a smile. She grimaced but leaned against me.
In that moment the cold wet blanket pressing against my side felt warmer than anything I'd felt before. Whatever happened, this was worth fighting for.
Soon Sable had a loaded set of tribal saddlebags for me that I levitated onto my poor back. I had given Zamora my coat and Sable had thrown a waterproof ushanka on her head. Sable hugged us both before we left, taking her time explaining how to reheat the food she'd given me and to call her for anything.
The walk to my apartment building was silent but not quiet. Zamora had the weight of the world on her shoulders as she walked beside me and I could feel it. Her whole world was collapsing around her. I knew what that felt like.
I hadn't paid much attention to my fellow tenets before and likewise they had never noticed me. Tonight everypony stared at me and Zamora, their cutting glares dancing between the two of us.
Yeah bringing home a bruised filly in the dead of night did not look good.
"Stripe-fucker ," said a stallion leaned against a wall as he spat in front of me.
Oh, it was only racial prejudice. How fun.
Back in the second district species of all kinds mixed, they were preferences sure but it was a pretty homogenous mix. ninth district was shaping up to have a very different dynamic.
I pulled Zamora closer and hurried up my apartment, avoiding the elevator packed with hitters. When I shut my apartment door behind us we both breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be harder than I thought.
Without saying anything Zamora trotted over to my couch and collapsed. She was undoubtedly exhausted from her ordeals. I set the saddlebags down on the counter and pulled a nearly folded heavy synth fiber blanket from inside. Walking over beside her I laid the blanket over her gently. I sent a picture and a text to Sable telling her that we made it safely, she responded in seconds telling me to keep her safe.
Zamora drowsily turned and reached out to touch my horn. "Sunny..." she said in broken equestrian before yawning and shutting her eyes.
A warm fuzzy feeling replaced the normal worm in my stomach. I tucked her in extra tight and sat next to the couch. Turning to face the windows I stared at the glowing neon signs and flashing adverts.
What the hell was going on. Just two weeks ago I had a stable life, a nice place, a good job and now... now I worked in a school for refugee kids, I had assaulted a swath of students with magic, and there was a zebra filly sleeping on my couch.
Ain't that a kick in the head. That's what Dusty had said when she'd received orders for her second tour just a month after she had finished her first. I thought about her and the times we spent together in that short month. It wasn't long before my eyelids became heavy and even the splitting pain in my head was forced to a dull ache as my head came to rest on the hoofrest and I fell into sleep.
Like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of a hoof I peeled myself off my bed and threw my hooves out under me. The headache from that little sun yesterday reminded me it existed and stuck needles in my skull. Drowsily I drug my coat over my shoulders and with my foggy scatterbrain had the wherewithal to grab the gun holster and hide it befor-
It was empty.
What? Where was the gun? The kid, the zebra filly! Heart accelerating my eyes scraped the room and saw a familiar lump on the couch. Rising. Falling.
The coffee table. Laid out across its surface was the BK-10c, it's mags, neat little rows of bullets, and several rags and wires. Everything ordered at ninety-degree angles. It looked like a display case.
Levitating the gun over it's freshly polished surface made it appear neon green as it reflected light from the windows. A sharp smell of cordite filled my nostrils as I pulled the slide back and was rewarded with a satisfying ka-click, like those antique stopwatches.
So caught up was I in the perfect condition I had failed to notice the pair of magenta eyes staring at me from the couch. I looked up at her—she tensed, looking at the gun—and I gently placed it back on the table.
The air became thick, I chose the word to cut it carefully, "Zamora."
Like being cut from a harness she relaxed and eased back into the cushions. A string of zebrican, none of it made any sense except for one word I picked out. Sunny. I repeated the word and she pointed a hoof at me and smiled, her eyes softening.
A shadow fell over her, then Zamora's gaze sank to the floor and she shut her eyes. More zebrican, indecipherable but there was no mistaking the sullen low tones.
I could only imagine what it was like for her. One night living with your family, hiding yourself but still surrounded by people you'd known your whole life. The same ones she'd escaped the war with, they'd all survived together.
And now she was living in a strange city, sleeping in a unicorn's apartment, the same unicorn who'd assaulted her classmates. Even if they were hurting her she'd seen me use my magic against them. Was she scared of me? Sunny sounded like an affectionate nickname, atleast I hoped it was a nickname. Then again, who knew what that meant to a zebra.
Trotting to the table I sat down across from Zamora as she hung her head. I carefully brought the holster over and slid the gun back in; the mags I slotted back into their pockets next to the gun but I just dumped the bullets into an empty tea carton. It would've felt weird to load the magazine in front of her. I floated the stocked holster underneath my pillow.
I sat and stared at Zamora, not sure what to do. She's taken Dusty's gun and cleaned it, set everything up like that. The old DC training lectures would've described this as neurodivergent at the least, some kind of coping mechanism probably.
Even if Zamora could understand me I didn't have any words for her, none that would matter. Instead I heated up some of the spiced dumplings left over from yesterday and tore the paper carton in half. Giving her one piece of the carton with several dumplings I sat down next to her and consumed my portion.
Hesitant at first she eventually got them down, didn't seem displaced the least bit by their spicy kick. Either her mood was that bad or zebras had a high spice tolerance, I had to dab sweat off my forehead through breakfast.
With some hot double-caff tea she perked up a bit and I grabbed some clothes from my overladen saddlebags. We were short on time so I forwent my shower and let her wash yesterday off as I prepped for whatever the hell this day was going to throw at me.
Coat buttoned, tie snug, saddlebags fastened. Zamora had her hoodie and a bandana covering her muzzle. As we left I turned to shut my door only to see someone had painted stripes across it. I sighed, she tightened the drawstrings on her hoodie. Luckily there weren't many ponies around when we left, the afternoons were going to be trouble though.
We stopped by Ms. Siojiu's and got some noodles, spiced dumplings, and even some of that strange tea I smelled last time. The Kirin had smiled at the filly and gave her a whole stock box. Steamed vegetables, fried noodles, double stuffed spice dumplings, and what she called 'Windrider' tea all packed into folded paper compartments. Ms. Siojiu only charged me for my usual. I took it as a gesture of kindness towards Zamora. Shared pain. This time I smiled first, and Ms. Siojiu smiled back.
The first sign that something was wrong were the zebra kids hanging in the alleys. They watched me, some like vultures waiting for a meal and others like looking at a walking corpse. I recognized many of the students from my class and several other faces from the school grounds. I didn't see Zoko or any of his pals. I had thought that was a good thing.
Next was the grave silence of the school as we approached the block. Something was wrong. Zamora pressed close to me and locked her gaze on the broken concrete beneath her hooves. Rain filled the hollow cracks.
When we approached the block and stepped hoof on the grounds a mob of zebras appeared from behind buildings and from doorways. They were all old, had rudimentary augmentation, or were barely adults. Zoko. He was there, so we're his mates. The belligerent punk was leaning on an adult zebra with two cybernetics for back legs. Looked like street breaker models.
I turned around but there stood more zebras. A hoof on my shoulder spun me around and a yelp from Zamora. I was face-to-face with the old zebra Zoko was leaning on; his stone-cold glare trying to punch a hole in my skull. Fuck, Zoko's probably this knuckhead's kid.
"You. A unicorn pony. A school teacher. You blinded my nephew," he snorted, sneering angrily as he towered over me.
"I– I was only protecting one of my students, I didn't mean to hurt him I swear," I said.
"My brother died to griffon mercenaries hired by pony corporations. His last wishes were to take care of his sons, and you have stolen the vision of one of them," he said.
I looked at Zoko, his eyes weren't looking at me. They were glazed over, milky white. Anger cut deep lines in his face, a face that only looked forwards.
Zamora was nearby, every eye not on me was glaring daggers at her. She shrunk into the ground, steaming noodles and gourd scattered around her. What had I done? I shouldn't have interfered. I fucked everything up again mom, I'm sorry.
Zoko's uncle pulled an amber flask from a pouch and shoved it into my chest, "Drink, pony," he said, spitting in my face to punctuate the P.
Something told me that questions would have been unwise at that juncture, so I did as I was told. Levitating the flash up to my muzzle inside the stopped and drained it. It was a bittersweet concoction that left an oily film in my mouth as the smell of burning copper wrinkled my nose. A sharp pain cut a line from the base of my head, through my skull, to my horn. The flask fell and shattered on the ground as I doubled over grabbing my head in pain.
It felt like I had lost a sense, I couldn't feel the magic around me, my horn was numb.
I was drug to my hooves as I staggered trying to refocus my vision, the pain in my head dropping from a stabbing lance to a scalding burn. Zoko stood in front of me with a long black knife as his uncle backed away.
"Had you done this to one of my nieces or my daughter I was had scooped your eyes out myself. But Zoko is a wey'la, his vengeance can only come from him," he said, his face impassive.
Zoko dropped into an fighter's stance and bit down hard on the knife. I shoved Zamora farther from me and turned to face Zoko. He slowly approached me and I just stood there, what the hell was I supposed to do?
Blinding red lights and deafening klaxons overwhelmed my senses. Big warning signs and outlines were projected onto the ground from above. Down wash poured over us, all I could hear was thundering hooves, jet turbines, and blaring sirens.
"Manehattan Municipal Police! On the ground, every zebra on the ground, move and we will shoot!" shouted the voice over the vehicle-mounted megaphones.
Flying squad cars buzzed overhead as wheeled patrol vehicles surrounded us, a few zebras broke free of the encirclement but most were caught. They were forced to the ground by a swarm of black and yellow uniformed MMP officers as plastic cuffs zipped tight.
I threw myself to the ground and waited for my arrest. The noise died down, the hovercraft landed, ordered were bellowed but the cuffs never came. An armored hoof tapped on my shoulder and I looked up to see a cop in full riot gear offer me a hoof up.
"Don't worry, we've got them all cuffed up now. Can't hurt you," said the blue earth pony as she helped me up.
I looked around, zebras were being rounded up and forced into groups of ten and twenty, riot cops were shouting and shoving them around.
Zamora.
There she was, with a group of kids, next to Zoko. She was cuffed and crying. I tried to run towards her but the riot cops stopped me.
"Best keep clear of them, school's principal said they are a dangerous gang," she said.
"That filly, in the hoodie. She's not a part of this, she's with me!" I pleaded.
"Hey look, I don't know what kind of scam they had you in but I promise you this. None of them are innocent. You're better off forgetting them. Besides, after tonight it'll be like they never existed," she said with a reassuring smile.
I felt sick. My insides twisted up into knots and my throat cinched up, making it difficult to breathe. A dark orange pegasus swooped down and landed in front of me. A wide-beam scanner blinded me and left me blinking as the fellow pulled me towards a open waiting aerocar.
"Silver Dusk right? Teacher? Look we just need a quick statement from you down at the blockhouse, it's only some paperwork then you'll be on your way," he said casually.
I was dazed, I followed him like a sheep being led by a shepherd. The back of the car was warm, smelling like vinegar and bleach. Pressed into my seat by the rapid takeoff I looked at the orange pegasus, he looked back.
"Lieutenant Eminent Flame, MMP Insurgency and Terrorism Unit. Get comfy and buckle up, it's a bit windy tonight. Wethr coverage is spotty here," he said.
What the actual fuck. Terrorism? When had they been called? Who? Gabby, that principal. This was bad, if Zamora gets processed with the others she'll get enough charges to put her in an out-of-city work camp for decades. The same was true for the others.
Lieutenant Flame answered a call with a flick of his wing, "Yeah, you with the CT techs? Ok. Scrub it, an hour prior to and hour from now. Make sure it's done before day shift, they already charge enough," he said, tapping a button and ending the call.
I couldn't save her, but I could save them all.
//
The blockhouse was a monolithic structure that bordered the eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh districts. A brutalist tower that was dotted with freckles of automated turrets and drone launchers. We landed on an outstretched gantry that grabbed the aerocar and pulled us into the interior as blast door closed behind us.
The lieutenant escorted me past the lines of zebras, there was atleast twenty here with eyes tracking me. None of the kids though. They must be somewhere else. I didn't get a chance to get a good look as I was ushered inside and through a maze of doors and sanitized hallways. Cameras filled every corner and tracked the movement of the police ponies and office workers bustling past us.
Soon I was sitting in a cozy conference room and being handed a bag of crisps with a soda. A pre-filled statement form on a P-Ink pad was slid across the table with a sleek brass stylus. I sat up and scanned through the document while Lieutenant Flame trotted around me with a coffee carrier in his mouth. Setting down on the table and leaned on the table, took his knife-edge cap off and cast a casual grin my way.
"It outlines how you, a simple school teacher, was assaulted, threatened, and robbed by the gang of stripes we scooped up. We won't be able to reimburse you for stolen goods in excess of 500 bits, beyond that you'll have to contact your insurance. Sign and date, please," he said.
"Robbed? Wait but they hadn't taken anything," I said.
"Well, I'd keep that little tidbit to yourself. Even without fighting a claim with your insurance it's still a nice 500 bits. Think of it as some piece of mind after being violated by those terrorists," he said smugly.
"Terrorists?" I said incredulously.
"Sure, they're Karnaugh refugees. War criminals who've fled to escape prosecution. Don't know why the paper pushers bothered with the diplomatic dog show, we all knew they'd be trouble. Now, if you'll just sign right there—" he tapped the dotted line on the pad, "—we can get them out of our city and put to use somewhere that energy of theirs won't be wasted. Pellegro mines is waiting on their next shipment and we're behind on stock."
So that's how it was. I was their excuse to lock up all those zebras. Did the principal know about this? Was she genuinely concerned or did she just want to be rid of the students she was charged with? If I signed that pad it was over.
"Forgive my hesitation, I don't think you fully understand what happened lieutenant," I said.
"Oh? Kidnapping would be an excellent charge, all you'd need to say was that one of them help you or restrained your movement. Another sentence or two," he said.
I shook my head, "No, these charges you've listed against them are false," I said.
He frowned, "False?"
"I was not assaulted, nor robbed, nor kidnapped, nor threatened," I said, leaving out some key parts.
He looked me up and down and scoffed, "You're joking right? What, 500 bits not enough?"
"No, it's not. And no amount of bits would be enough," I said.
The lieutenant brought his muzzle inches from mine and narrowed his eyes.
"It is in your best interest to sign this document, otherwise I might remember you interfering with a riot officer. That's five years right there," he said.
I shook my head, "I'm not stupid, I heard that call. You had them wipe the street cams. My statement will be your only piece of evidence against them," I said.
Lieutenant Flame sucked a deep breath and levelled a cold stare.
"We have a statement from the principal, hers will do," he said, snorting air into my face.
I blinked, "Which won't be as useful if her statement were to be directly contradicted by a first-hand account," I said, voice and tone level.
He tapped his hoof, slowly getting faster until his horseshoes hammered out a steady staccato then stopped suddenly as he let out a deep sigh.
"What. Do. You. Want. And don't say something crazy, this little leverage of yours only goes so far," he said.
"One of the Zebra fillies you arrested, by the name of Zamora. I want all charges against her dropped," I said.
"That's it?" he made some features in the air and a holographic picture of the filly appeared beside us. He tears were fresh, they must have just taken that photo.
"You want to trot out of here with her? Fine, sign the statement and you can have her," he spat.
I grabbed the stylus and went to sign but stopped short. If I did this I'd be consigning everyone else to the mines for decades, not to mention if the other found out I was the one who signed the statement that had sent them out of the city. Zoko was in that group, that kid was a bastard but even he didn't deserve to see Pellegro.
"Well, what's it going to be?" he said.
"I can't do this," I tapped the button to blank the form, "the facts of the case are wrong."
"What, in the ever-loving fuck, do you mean?" he said.
"Because I'm the one who assaulted them," I said, filling in the sections of the pad.
The whirlwind of confusion that stormed over his face was really quite something. I had to fight to not smirk
"I had a knife, a long black one. Grabbed a blind kid and forced it into his mouth and made him bite it so the teeth prints wouldn't be mine, especially since unicorns don't wield weapons with their teeth. It was difficult with them all running from me but I tried hard to stab them, pretty sure I missed but not for lack of trying I assure you," I said, beginning to fill out the form.
Lieutenant Flame stood up straight, gaze hardening as his voice became dangerously low, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing. I'd expect some shit like this from a crackhead, not a teacher."
"No games lieutenant, just the truth. I'm not a good liar you see. And a guilty conscience is too heavy a burden for me to carry," I said.
"You'll spend forty years underground for this," said Lieutenant Flame.
Was I okay with that? Hell, not like I was doing any good out here. Maybe I deserved this. Given the choice it was always going to be easier to condemn myself then someone else.
I finished the form and signed it, pushing it back to the twitching lieutenant. He stared at me before grabbing the p-Ink pad and reading it intently. He whispered a curse as he wiped the pad clean with a gesture.
"As much as I would relish the sight of you in worker orange with cuffs around your hooves I will not be the one questioned by my superiors as to why I'm sending a single pony teacher to prison while I let twenty-eight striped shit stains walk," he said.
I sat in silence, lips tight and eyes wide as he stepped back from me.
"Your little stunt worked this time, whatever the hell it was you were trying to accomplish," he looked down his muzzle at me, "I just want you to know that the ponies they hurt, their blood'll be on your hooves."
He walked to the door and opened it, motioning for me to follow, "Ninth district is a dangerous place, Silver Dusk. When you're neck deep in shit don't call. Distress signals get deprioritized, discarded even. Now get the fuck out."
Within five minutes I was shoved into a cold transport bus without seats, just cold filthy steel. I waited about twenty minutes before the zebras started filing in under heavy escort from armed guards. They were being punched, kicked, and jabbed on their way in. Those cops were probably trying to provoke them into a fight, thankfully the zebras had their heads in the right place. None took the bait.
Finally I saw Zamora and rushed over to her only to be clotheslined by a riot shield and stuffed back into my seat. She was put in the corner across and farthest from me at the back. She looked at me, eyes full of fear, before curling into a ball.
The bus was a ground pounder and had no suspension, though my discomforted posterior was the least of my concern. Every zebra had their eyes locked on me as we rode back, their expressions were unreadable. It was a long hour ride back to central.
When we arrived riot shields forced us out the second we stopped. I was the last out and got a stout kick as I crashed on top of Zoko's uncle. The bus burnt rubber getting out of there as we got to our hooves.
I rushed over to Zamora and hugged her, the relief I fealt immeasurable. Zoko and his uncle approached. I turned and sat, pulling Zamora in close as she hugged my chest.
"My name is Yadar the Fallen Oak," said Zoko's uncle.
"I'm Silver Dusk," I said dumbly.
"Not sure what you said, but that orange pegasus has hate for you. Kept swearing about a zebra sympathizer when he let us go," said Yadar.
"They wanted to take all of you to Pellegro, a horrible place," I said.
"No pony has done a thing like this for us before, you have our thanks," he said.
Zoko made to move forward but was stopped by Yadar.
"His debts are paid nephew, leave him be," said Yadar.
"We wouldn't have been in danger if he wasn't here," said Zoko.
"I'm sorry, I never meant for any of this. I just wanted to protect Zamora," I said, pulling her closer.
"Why?" said Yadar.
"Because if I don't no one else will," I said.
"Zamor must stand on his own, wey'la are forged that way. His kin may be harsh on him but it is better to prepare him for the cruelty this world will thrust upon him," said Yadar.
"She will find her own path," I said.
"As you say, his parents have completely disavowed themselves of him anyways," said Yadar.
"How are the other kids, the ones I used my light magic on?" I asked.
"Recovering, Zoko was the only one completely blinded. Time will tell if his injuries are permanent," said Yadar.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"So you've said, consider yourself and the zebra community even. Keep teaching Silver Dusk. The young ones enjoyed your lecture.
//
Neon holograms backlit the crowds of tattooed zebras, strung-out junkies, and ponies with hive mane cuts and jacko lights embedded under their hides. Tainted rainwater guzzled up from overfilling storm drain as rain poured down in a constant sideways hail. Everything felt greasy, even the thick air stuck to the inside of your nose like a bad odor.
Zamora's gaze jumped around and she kept speaking zebrican words into my ear irregardless of my confused looks. I'd have to get Sable to teach me some zebrican, or teach Zamora some equestrian.
Several people had tried to pick my pockets only to find them empty and my saddlebags double lidded, an old pony in a torn rain slick offered to buy Zamora from me, and a pair of zebras had hassled me but left me alone when they saw Zamora.
"Killer buzz Franko! Up that lin–"
"200 bits, cheap as they come. The best an–"
"Swear those H doses are getting smal–"
"BPI's got double shift bonuses for elec–"
The streets were alive, a few prowling ground vehicles ran the streets suffused with hoof traffic. Vendors pushed their shop fronts to the curb, selling everything from deep fried carrots, to glow-glasses, and even glamour rocks.
With Zamora tucked by my side we made our way through the crowds block by block until not a single zebra was in sight. The crowds thinned out and the bright lights were reduced to sparse projected advertisements here and there. Ponies shot glances but they got on with their day.
Six Salace Way, my apartment building. Without thinking I tried to use my magic to get my phone but pain shot down from my horn, pinning me to the grimy steps. Zamora spoke frantically and helped me up. Whatever was in that potion was potent stuff, I had hoped it'd wear off over the night. Had to make it inside first though.
"You dumb or something? Must have a pain wish dragging that broom head in here," said a dusty brown earth pony in a florescent pink jacket.
"Please, we're just heading upstairs," I said wearily. I couldn't handle much else today, my mind was barley held together and I was drained.
"Ditch the stripe, and soon, or your room will be another vacancy," he said.
I couldn't muster a response, just nodded and hauled myself upstairs while Zamora trotted beside me.
Picking the black paint off the card scanner I unlocked the door and slid inside, locking the door and bolt while Zamora sat on the couch.
"You are a real hoof full you know that," I said. Setting my bags down I pulled my phone out and saw several missed calls and texts from Sable ranging from 'what the hell' to 'where the hell'. I let her know Zamora was ok after which she immediately called, her and Zamora tried speaking through me to little effect so I'm just gave her my phone. I tried to stay awake but as their conversation continued I found myself slipping into sleep. I crashed into my bed and was gone.
Sable's hoof struck my jaw and knocked me flat on my ass. My vision went sideways as I struggled to remain upright.
"Whoops, didn't mean to scramble your eggs there," said Sable.
I shook my head, big mistake, and nearly fell over before Sable caught me.
"You should definitely work on your speed, body like yours won't be able to take too many hits," she said.
"I'd entertain that by asking what you mean but the ringing in my ears tells me you're right," I said.
"Just stay mobile and don't stop moving; better yet, avoid a hoof fight altogether," she said.
"Never really planned on seeking one out," I said.
In the days following my run-in with the zebras and the friendly local law enforcement Sable had insisted I learn some basic self-defense. Said I should keep out of trouble but that it would eventually find me. So, here we were. Playing a game of 'Ring Silver's Bell' in my cramped apartment while Zamora drank juice boxes and watched us like we were cable TV.
Rising out of her rigid combat pose she rubbed her chin, "Say, how's that sticker of yours doing? Ms. Iampoco is working on the counter-potion but says it'll take a while. Apparently the deadhorn daiquiri Yadar gave you was only supposed to last a day."
"Most days are shorter than a quarter moon," I said, rubbing my numb horn.
I wasn't familiar with zebra alchemy but I was still recovering from a near burnout when I drank it. The possibility of that affecting the way my body reacted to the daiquiri did not escape me.
"We'll get your magic back. Nothing that old hag's concoctions can't fix, or break," she said, offering a smile.
"Here's hoping. Lessons are difficult without my magic. I have to take breaks from speaking to scribble crude cavepony diagrams on the board," I said.
"Could be worse, at least Zoko isn't around anymore," she said.
"Maybe, I still can't decide if that's a good thing or not," I said.
""Die ander vermy my asof ek siek is, geen woorde tussen ons nie," said Zamora.
"Moenie worry oor hulle, suster. Moenie jou hart warm maak met hulle stokke nie, want ek en Silver het hout om te gee," said Sable.
Their conversations had thrown me for loops even as I began to pickup a few words. It must've shown on my face because nearly every time Sable would throw the same conciliatory look my way and translate.
"She's having trouble with the other kids," said Sable.
"They keep their distance, every desk around her is always vacant," I said.
"So long as they keep their hooves off her it'll be fine, for now at least. I've been catching flak from my elder, enough to make things awkward between me and the community," said Sable.
"Really? For what?" I said.
"Shielding Zamora and helping an outsider. They couldn't decide if it was worse that I had helped hide her identity or that I turned her over to a pony outsider," she said.
"I get the feeling they aren't big fans of ponies," I said.
"It's... Complicated. We–they don't hate ponies, they've just spent their lives being forced out of home after home by griffons, hippogriffs, dragons, and yes—ponies.
"After being chased across the rolling hills and desert plains the only thing we always had was each other. Homes and enemies came and went but our community, our tribe, always held the whole thing together," said Sable, trotting over the the window the stare down at the hazy street.
"Isn't that the same tribe that Zoko comes from? And Zamora?" I said.
Sable sighed, "You ever had a cousin you didn't like? Ever have a fight with a sibling?"
"No, no siblings; I never knew any cousins. But I think I understand what you mean: the tribe is like a family and has friction between members, as the average family would," I said.
"We hurt the ones we love the most, it's what my elder Pano always says. Yadar cares about Zoko and sees the best chance of survival for him is to become a strong wey'la. That means not showing any weakness, never flinching, charging every problem head-on. Zoko's father was a elder-warrior and his grandfather was a hunter-warrior, for Zoko to be anything less than a wey'la would make him appear weak. And for zebras, weakness gets you killed.
"So if you care about someone you toughen them up, tear them apart and build them back up—" her voice cracked "—because when the world comes to chew on them it will rip every last strip of flesh from their bones and leave them to die," said Sable.
She was shaking, her hooves jittering against the glass. A drop fell on the carpet beneath her. Her wings trembled, opening a fraction before jerking back into a tight bundle against her back.
What had I said?
Was it something I did?
Something I didn't do?
Like the first raindrops of a coming shower more tears fell to the carpet. I stood and slowly walked towards Sable as she let her head drop onto the window frame.
A sharp pain in my tail stopped me short as I looked behind me and saw Zamora digging her hooves into the stained carpet while yanking back on my bushy tail. I stopped and looked into her eyes, she was not afraid or worried. Just had a weary sympathetic look, an all too familiar one.
Zamora trotted past me and did a semicircle behind Sable before low crawling beneath her, threading herself between her forelegs until her head was nestled up underneath Sable's chin.
Suddenly the room was cold. Icicles bit under my hooves. I didn't belong here in this moment, I needed some air. What Sable needed now I could not offer. I had to let Zamora do what I couldn't.
Gently as possible I pushed my apartment's front door closed as I left. My buzzing hooves took me downstairs to the long causeway on the ground floor that cut through the building. I sat against the graffiti-covered brick wall and slid down till I hit the tough concrete. Throwing my head back the flickering lamps became the focus of my wandering eyes as time washed by.
"Silver Dusk?"
I snapped up, falling face first into an oily puddle of questionable origin. Pulling myself up I saw an older zebra mare with several golden rings around her neck and hooves and Zoko, who was pressing his shoulder against the older mare's. It was the voice of the older zebra mare.
"Y-yes, just Silver is very well," I said, wiping dirt from my face and coat.
Zoko was wearing a leather shoulder bag and looked down at the ground, his eyes still he same milky white.
"I am called Yulo Juzeria, I am Zamor's mother. This is Zoko, as you may know him," Zoko snorted, "and he has come to deliver the tonic for you deadhorn. Ms. Iampoco finished it earlier today. I would also like to speak to my son, Zamor, who I hear to be in your company," she said, voice level and accented.
I blinked, Zamora's mother? The tonic? I had my doubts but kept them tucked away.
"Ms. Yulo Juzeria, and Zoko. Thank you for coming out here," I said, pausing and taking a short breath, "Zamora—" Juzeria's face hardened "— isn't available at the moment. And Zoko, I'm sorry about what happened," I said.
Zoko only scoffed but Juzeria let out a held breath before speaking, "As a parent I hold the right to speak with my children, do you deny me such a basic thing as interaction with my child?" said Juzeria.
I thought for a moment, trying to eke out her intentions. Opening my mouth to speak I stopped short and had my attention drawn over her shoulder at the group of ponies in hoodies and bandanas cutting off the causeway's street entrance.
"On second though, a family reunion sounds great. Let's head up now!" I said, rushing over to them while trying to user the pair towards the stairs.
We came to a screeching halt as a trio of masked ponies descended wielding lead pipes and a tire iron. Hatred was carved into their eyes and it bled out of every hoofstep.
"Should've listened hornhead. Instead you thought it'd be a good idea to bring more stripes into our neighborhood," said a voice from behind.
Another group of gangers was closing in from the causeway's back entrance. We were completely boxed in. The speaker was a coal black earth pony stallion with a fire red and yellow mane flaring out from under a frayed cowpony hat. Two tarnished brass aug forehooves, a black bandana with a red X, his leather jacket spray-painted with a set of diagonal horseshoes over a railspike.
Dusty's gun, he had the holster strapped over his chest.
The three of us backed away slowly, being pressed from all sides until we hit the opposite wall, the grainy grit of the weathered brick cutting into our backsides as the errie quiet grew into a torrent of cat calls, violent threats, and slurs from the hoodlums around us.
"We let one of you in here, next thing you know your brother and sister come and then the family. Before anypony even knows it you've taken over a whole building, then a block. Well, not this block. This is ours and has been since we could walk," said the stallion in the cowpony hat.
"Look, we'll leave. There doesn't need to be trouble," I said.
"Tell you what buttercup, go get those two you've got upstairs and drag them down here. Do that and I'll let you trot out of here with a heartbeat," he said.
Growls and cruel laughter hounded us, echoing in the damp tunnel. Taped wooden bats knocked on the ground, chains were drug back and forth across the concrete, crude shanks were sharpened on the ground.
"Please we mean no harm, just let us leave and you'll never see us again," I pleaded.
He smirked, advancing as Zoko stepped forward and spit on his jacket. The ganger stopped and his eye twitched. Time grinded to a startling halt, silence swept over the night.
A rush of air. Zoko flew over my head. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, raising a cloud of dust. Juzeria screamed. Chains clattered.
I spun around in a blur, a sound like a hoofball flying at my head made me duck. Cowpony was winding up for another haymaker. Sidestepping past him I ran for the stairs, threading a gap in the loose ring. Bolting up to my apartment I threw the door open as I rushed in.
Sable and Zamora whipped their heads around, eyes wide as I leapt for the holster hanging from my bedpost. I stopped mid-air as a needle of pain in my rump was followed by my graceless plummet into the floorboards. Cowpony leapt over me and rolled only to meet a solid buck from Sable as he came out of it.
She staggered him and pushed with a flurry of jabs and solid strikes to his face and chest. He coughed blood then stopped a deadly right hook from Sable, five shining brass digits wrapped around her hoof mid-swing. A moment's hesitation, then a meter of brass slammed into her chest just below he neck, sending her to the floor.
"Sable!"
I sprang up and rushed for the gun only to be slammed into the wall by Sable's thrown body. Zamora was screaming, running for the door. Sable groaned and pulled herself up. Cowpony spun, gun in hand, racked the slide and pulled the trigger.
Click.
"You gotta be shittin' m-"
Sable cut him off with a flying tackle. They went rolling and hammered into the kitchen cabinets, sending drawers across the floor.
A ruckus from behind. I turned to see Zamora held fast in a headlock by a ganger, thrashing and muffled yelling doing little to free herself. More appeared in the hallway behind him, and he pressed a twisted piece of rebar up against her throat.
"They've got Zamora!" I shouted at Sable.
She snapped her head up. Quickly she got off of cowpony and backed away, the vicious fury in her eyes replaced with fear. He got up, picked his hat off the floor and popped it back into his head while approaching Sable. The ganger holding Zamora advanced into the room with a host of street bangers behind him flowing around us.
"Take'em," spat Cowpony.
A meaty thud. I looked over and saw Sable sprawled over the floor, cowpony standing over her. Zamora struggled against her captor.
Turning to face her I only saw,
A spiked horseshoe.
Blinding pain.
Darkness.
//
Rotwaste, bilge runoff, pissed-drenched dumpster? Scratch that, all of the above. The smell jerked me awake harder than any smelling salts.
Cracking my eyes open I scanned my dimly lit surroundings as an oppressive rumbling of industrial grinding echoed through the dank sewers in the distance. I was on the ledge of a crumbling concrete platform adjacent to a sludge river flowing down a wide sewer tunnel. Bundles of sinuous cable with frayed and tearing insulation drooped from the oxide-encrusted rungs. Near-dead fluorescent lights provided just enough illumination to make out the dark figures around me.
Zamora was unconscious next to me bound at her fore and rear hooves, so was Sable Sakra. Juzeria and Zoko were on my right and awake, similarly bound. Zoko was quiet, staring at the ground as Juzeria offered only a quick glance my way. I tried to move only to collapse onto my face, scraping the underside of my muzzle on the pumice-like platform concrete. Braided plastic bindings cut into my hooves, allowing me to do no more than wiggle.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you, it's a long way down," said the ganger who'd knocked me out.
Cowpony hat and his goons formed a jagged crescent around us. Wicked grins and hollow teeth were luminescent against the darkness, their eyes cutting daggers at us. Metallic clicks and a hiss tore my vision to those brass hooves. The end split into talons like a griffon's claw. He flexed the digits before whipping Dusty's Bullmek from its holster and shoving it in my face, his eyes narrowing.
"Thanks for leaving the bullets on the counter, buttercup," he said.
Then he shot me.
...
..
.
//
"Hey Duck, what was it your ma used to say about getting into fights?"
"Said they were for dirt ponies like you, and that sophisticated unicorns such as myself should not deign to stoop to such barbarity,"
Dusty Dunes and I looked at each other, only able to contain ourselves for a fraction of a second before we burst into laughter. Happy tears ran down our cheeks.
She wrapped the bandage around my head carefully, wiping my blood from her hooves on a rag.
"You've gotta stop throwing yourself in the hole like this," she said.
"He was younger than Bracket, couldn't levitate a ten gram weight. When the others saw that..." I trailed off, biting my lip and wincing.
"Bleeding hearts belong to corpses or those who are soon to be—" she said, placing a hoof on my shoulder, "—you're my friend Silver, I understand better than anyone than some fights need fighting but you gotta ask yourself: is it worth it, am I picking the right fights?"
I turned and looked into her eyes, my face serious, "You did the same for me, way back when."
"I did, didn't I? Celestia... Your bleeding heart is gonna get you in serious trouble one of these days, and when it does I'll be there, side-by-side with your dumb ass," she said, playfully punching my shoulder.
"Thanks Dusty, that means a lot. Just... don't mention this to my mom?" I asked with my best pleading puppy face.
She just rolled her eyes, "Wonder what she'd think of her handsome unicorn son wandering the back alleys of Trocklemore and Hoofcrest, taking pretty mares out on dates behind warehouses."
"As of I'd ever date your ugly ass, besides if anyone's innocence is being stolen it's mine," I chuckled.
"I'm wounded, truly," she said, giggling while dramatically placing a hoof over her heart and leaning back.
"Ha, I'd need a stone chisel and a rock hammer to hurt you. When they put Dusty Dunes together they left out mushy feelings and sensibility, instead opting to put more blood and muck in," I said, teasingly jabbing her with a hoof.
"Uh huh, suppose us dirt ponies are owed all the blood and muck. From the mud," she said.
"Through the blood," I said.
"And back again," we said together, in unison.
//
"-grams been denied. Board reviewed the margins on the Rising Star program and couldn't rationalize section 8-71-31(b) or any of the other related sections that do not provide a direct means of compensating Dawncare for the... significant investment of resources," said the dry magenta unicorn sitting across from me.
"But it's a long-term return. Select students that meet the criteria, guided and trained to become professors and researchers. Those kinds of school-to-grads with uninterrupted schooling years are hard to come by, not to mention that many of these kids are willing to devote their lives to the work. They've got hardy backgrounds and have got the heart to fight for this," I said, making frantic hoof gestures while pushing papers full of charts and graphs at them.
"The problem, Mr. Dusk, is just that. Those fast-tracked 'kids' are of dubious origin. They look like they belong in a police lineup, not in an accredited institution. Many of the potential candidates you listed haven't been in a Dawncare facility for years, some never. Half don't have permanent addresses, another quarter list communes or shelters as their place of residence. If you're trying to start an orphanage then petition the residence authority," they said, pushing their glasses up their nose.
"They have the ability! The entire candidate pool was tested on the DCAT and made an average of seven hundred and ninety, the highest score was eight hundred and forty two. That's twenty percent higher that most of our enrollees. Several were even flagged for further testing as HF class 3 and HF class 2 neurosupers," I said, both front hooves on the glass table.
"I read your submission Mr. Dusk, and frankly considering that a discredited and disavowed griffin professor proctored the tests I'm not surprised," they said with a flat expression.
"Dr. Killbeak is a respected number theorist with reams of published papers, almost all of which were published by this very university. Papers, that I should remind you, are still sold from the DSCore database at full price. The only thing that was changed about them was having his name deleted from the credits," I spat, levelling a cold glare as I sat back down.
"All according to policy, the quality of his work was never in doubt. No, it was his extremist views and continued public outbursts that forced the Manehattan University of Academics and Arcana to distance themselves from him," they said.
"Extremist? He only spoke out against the injustice in Capra; Dr. Killbeak never hurt a soul. His levelheaded voice actively spoke out against extremism and petitioned for nothing more than peaceful protest," I said.
"We have always respected your acumen Mr. Dusk. Your capabilities and service as a member of our staff are valued but you should not forget: Dawncare will not stand for dissidents."
I blanched.
"Perhaps you aren't well suited to the university, it appears to be placing too much stress on you. I think a smaller school may fit you better."
//
Finals were tomorrow. Ten hours separated me and those tests, the tests that would determine the course of my life. I had got out of school hours before but spent too many moments ogling my latest dumpster rescues.
Of Mice and Ponies, second edition, original printing in 1962 on one-hundred percent cotton parchment, rebound using enchanted chroma vinyl in 2031 by the Royal Canterlot Archives. I already had a nineteenth edition bound in once-cycled hydroplastic with holographic front and back covers but it couldn't hold a candle to a real, intact, paper copy. It was in a near perfect condition, minus some discoloration on the last couple of pages and back cover. It was going to be the crown of my collection for years to come.
I had put the book on my shelf and tried to pull out my study guides and notes but found my focus kept wandering, winding up staring back at the beautifully embossed cover. It glimmered in the dim candlelight of my room and called out to me. Off the shelf and onto my desk I flipped open to the front page.
I must have sat there for fifteen minutes watching a pair of kirin farmers sway in the wind sitting in a half-harvested wheat field, the windmill in the background spinning fast and then slow with the swirling lines that showed the wind. The ornate and butter smooth moving image had been magically embedded, definitely from the RCA restoration. They didn't approve the use of arcana momenti spells like this on archive pieces before the twenty-first century.
Just a few pages in and my withered candle finally burned up the last of its wick. It was late and the black night blanketed my room. My heart ached for the next words but as I bumbled around my room I couldn't locate another candle, just piles of spent wax. If I asked my mom she'd kill me for being up this late on test night.
Wait, no I had something for this. I had learned a light spell when I started taking magic lessons two years ago. Never made it past the fourth session, the fundamentals escaped me and practice was something I always forgot in favor of reading. But I remembered the one spell he taught me. Lux Minoris. The little light.
Taking several deep breaths I pictured a candleflame in my mind, letting its warmth travel to my horn. I felt the electric tingle and opened my eyes to see a minuscule dot of light sitting at the very top of my horn. I tried to make it glow brighter but only extinguished it. This repeated three times before I gave up and strained my eyes so I could read with the speck of light.
Moments turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Soon light poured into the room. The night had passed so quickly, I didn't have any time left to study. I panicked but when I sat bolt upright to look out the window I was surprised to seen the dark sky of the flats still outside.
My horn, the light was coming from my horn! It was like ten oil lanterns burning wide open. The amber light steady and wrapped around everything in my room so there weren't even any shadows. It was like soft daylight under the breach canopies.
I spent the next several hours finishing the book, not even having to focus on the spell anymore as I lost myself between the lines. Sleep wasn't a possibility, I still had to prepare for the exams. The winking hours of the night and every blazing minute of the morning were spent with my nose in mathematics instructional videos, history eBooks, and guided practice tests.
It wasn't until my mom dropped a glass teapot when she saw my flank as I was leaving for school that I realized I had gotten my cutie mark. I spent the whole ride into the city and the whole time in the wait room staring at the silver-white crescent on my flank.
Mom spent the whole time telling me about Luna, Princess of the Night, Keeper of Dreams. Said my cutie mark meant something, that it was tied to the night. The history books had told us the dry facts about her reign and the disappearance of her and her sister but not much else.
She smiled wistfully as she spoke,"She was majestic, beyond any modern usage of the word. Beautiful and mysterious. When you were around her you felt a darkness, not some toxic evil but rather a soothing wave of comforting coolness," said mom, her amber eyes staring down at the floor, a nostalgic smile wrapped her muzzle, "her frown would still send ice spikes up under your skin though," she said, chuckling.
"Did you meet her?" I asked.
"Oh, not really. Only in passing. I was an aide in her court. For the year I served in that position I saw her almost nightly, providing research and data on anomalies from beyond the stars.
"There was a comet, Argent's Comet; it was a persistent focus of her attention. She had us collate data daily tracking its journey through the galaxy, estimating trajectories and orbital intersections," she said.
"But the closest I ever really got to her was one Hearthswarming where she came and spoke to me in my dreams, told me to keep my eyes pointed upwards and that shadows offered respite for more than the wicked," she said, rustling my mane with a hoof while looking down at me with soft eyes.
"Aren't the shadows bad? Everything is my stories that's evil is always dark and shadowy," I said.
"Nothing is bad in of itself sweetie, some things get used by bad ponies. Just because many who seek to do evil use the night and cower in the shadows doesn't mean you should hold that against the beauty of the dark," she said.
"But mom, how can darkness be beautiful?" I said.
"You see my little Dusky, when you view the majesty of the light its glory is right there, all out in plain sight. However, the wonder of the dark isn't in what you see, but rather what you don't see. The beauty of the dark is an enigma, clearly present but not understood. It lures you in with its wonder and traps bright minds with its shadowed complexity.
"The light presents you with the truth of all that is known, while the dark shows you the facade of perceived knowledge, how what you don't know overshadows what you do. You fear and respect the light because you know what it can do, you fear and respect the dark because you do not know what it is capable of. Evil cannot bear the light, but the dark tends to the righteous as well as the unrighteous."
Her words echoed as I glanced at my mark. A crescent moon, gleaming silver against a starless dark blue sky. I didn't know what it meant fully, but I hoped I'd have a chance the meet someone like the Princess one day.
//
...
..
.
A sharp ringing filled my ears, my eyes shot open as I hacked up raw sewage onto the grimy concrete. The right side of my face felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of red-hot needles, my whole body ached like it'd been tenderized with a sledgehammer. Everything hurt; my lungs blazed, fighting to overwhelm the pain in my skull. I couldn't even peel myself off the ground.
It was completely devoid of light, all I could hear was rushing water and tiny scampering feet. The slick stone I was slapped against was oddly warm. Gentle waves of tepid water brushed the ends of my hooves. My own thoughts were frazzled. I was barely able to string together the fact that I was in a sewer, how had I gotten here?
Oh yeah, I got shot.
...
How was I not dead? A sudden lance of pain cut through my skull. Death would've been better, this sucked.
Then I saw it, a single light in the distance. It was a single red dot that grew brighter and larger as it approached though it was hard to tell how far away it was. Rhythmic clanking and the whirr of generators replaced the sounds of water as the figure approached.
A robotic equine, dilapidated and rusted down to its frame. Its single glowing eye scanned over me, a jagged frame of metal and wires where a pony's head should’ve been, it was missing several armor plates where worn servos and frayed cable harnesses were visible. It came to a jerky stop over me and cranked it's head down to scan over my broken form.
A little hiss as a miniature arm popped out of its shoulder with a hypodermic needle on its end.
I tried to get away but my body replied with torrents of 'Hell No' when I tried to move. The robot made a series of whirring and beeping noises before jabbing the needle into my neck. I wretched up more sewage as my consciousness began slipping away again, the edges of my vision blurring as every sound became dull.
Damnit, not again.
"Please, Dusty..."
"Mom..."
Rekindling my shaky relationship with consciousness I found my surprisingly not-dead self submerged in a vat of warm translucent blue liquid suspended by my own buoyancy. Plastic tubes invaded every orifice, braided wires coiled around my body, terminating at mechanical nodes embedded in my spine. A spine that now appeared as if an armored black robotic millipede had crawled onto my back and dug itself surface deep into my coat.
I twisted in my tank, hooves flailing sluggishly through the thick fluid. Then I saw it, Her. Mom.
Just beyond the curved surface of the fish tank stood my mother, wearing the same long-suffering smile she always had, like the accident had never happened. I could see that matted azure coat, her black mane tinged with the charcoal grey of her years, those worn but loving emerald eyes. No broken bones, no twisted body, no pools of blood, no listless gaze into the abyss...
"Retrieve the projects, escape the lab, save sister," her voice was as clear as if she were sitting next to me in my bedroom.
I blinked and she was gone.
I reached out for her, placing my hoof on the glass, but she didn't come back. Instead the darkness beyond faded at the onrush of light that illuminated the remains of a laboratory. Banks of scrolling monitors, row upon row of old model terminals and arcane input matrices, racks of indiscernible digital equipment swamped in a rat's nest of faded multicolored cabling.
Muffled klaxons blared like speakers stuffed under a pillow as spinning lights swept the the room. A vibration filled the tank accompanied by a sound like a great big storm drain being unclogged and a sewage pump running full tilt as the liquid was quickly evacuated in mere seconds. I struggled to find purchase with my hooves, half because of the slippery resin and half because my limbs were responding like sugar-addled toddlers. Resigning myself I flopped onto the shiny metal deck. Oof, that hurt in all the wrong places.
With a horrible creaking sound the walls of the tank sank into the floor as stale air filled my intubated nostrils with the smell of a sanitized hospital.
In a distinctly undignified and unsightly fashion I extricated every intubation from my body and face, coughing up great gobs of green water. The dull whine of the alarms was quickly sharpened as fluid drained from my ears, the piercing sound now dominating my poor eardrums. A sequence of hissing noises and the bundles of cables popped out of my spine and flopped onto the wet metal grate I was laying on.
The mind numbing pain from before was supplanted by a throbbing ache; something akin to an army of fillies with rubber hammers treating my body like a game of whack-a-mole. My head was swimming, felt like my brain was strung up by butcher's hooks. Intestines were squirming too, insides felt wrong. Out of place and cramped, like a full grown stallion in a colt's playhouse.
After a few pitiful minutes of squirming around on the ground like a newborn whelp I managed to stand up, leaning heavily on a partially shattered tank.
A cyber demon's stare cut into me, a toxic green eye paired with an icy blue twin set into a mask of black metal and sopping wet dark blue fur.
My heart stopped, fear freezing my lungs. I blinked.
They blinked.
The figure moved as I did, its sharp, angular muzzle twisting to match mine. It wasn’t a demon. It was my reflection.
I sat down and pulled at the remaining fleshy bits of my face with a hoof. My coat stretched and the artificial plates extended and shrunk in response, a perfect simulacra of organic movement.
An almost invisible seam of raw tissue delineated what was left of my head and the entire right side of my face and whole lower muzzle which had been replaced with matte-black composite plating. The angular bits moved independently, each like a tiny scale jittering back and forth as it adjusted itself. A wave of motion washed over the array as it reshaped itself along new lines to resemble my old face.
I opened and closed my jaw several times, feelings of musculature gone—replaced with sounds of whirring and clicking not dissimilar from an old antique pocket watch.
The icy blue of my right eye shifted to match the poison green of my left, it was a cybernetic.
I wanted to scream, to tear the metal from my face, to rip the invasive black carapace from my spine, to slam my head into the steel decking until I was pulp, to desperately chase sweet death, an escape from the madness that had become my reality—
—at least, that would have been the expected response. Some modicum of shock, of fear, of an objectively rational heart-rending terror.
But there was nothing.
I had been shot in the face with my own gun, flushed down the sewers to who knows how deep beneath the city, jabbed with a needle by a robot more rust than metal, cut up and augmented in an abandoned lab, and given a cryptic message by my dead mother.
And yet I felt... blank. It was all just a collection of facts, detached bits of knowledge recounted with the same level of emotion as remembering a shopping list. I could rationalize the stringent extremity of my situation but it never sank deeper than surface level. I wasn't afraid, or angry, or sad, instead I only felt the slick steel beneath my hooves.
The image and voice of my mother had to either have been either a hallucination or a ghost. Given the circumstance, I couldn't rule out either but leaned towards the former. I didn't know what she had meant by the projects, escape was an obvious goal, but saving my sister was impossible. She had died alongside my mother. I could've saved her then, but that was many years ago. Years that I had spent trying to bury that night.
I had to focus. If I was alive then so might the others be too. before anything I had to discover if Zamora or the others wound up in the same facility, maybe it wasn't likely but all of this was untrodden territory so anything was possible.
Getting up I trotted over to a nearby terminal with a sickly green glow and blipping lines of blocky text.
FDOS v5.0.6.2
Build No. 227594001
Project Exarchi active...
Primary Subject Status:
Secondary Subject Status:
Multiple faults detected
Please contact system administrator
My eyes cycled through the list of failed augmentations, I had avoided getting hardware in the past. Heliodryl would've been just another bill and it's not like I was an athlete or a competitive spellcaster. Low affinity. Probably couldn't handle a glucose monitor now without my nervous system shutting down.
And what was an engram? What did 'Low Activity' mean? These were questions that I put onto a mental shelf to be dealt with later.
According to the runtime clock it'd been almost two days, might as well have been a lifetime. Suddenly a scan line ran down over my sight.
Green text scrolled down the sides of my vision, status bars and vitals trackers appeared on the bottom left and right of my sight. Lines of text zipped by too fast to read, a compass popped up near the top of my vision. It was a HUD, just like a video game. When I closed my eyes the HUD expanded to show all kinds of stats about my new parts but one caught my attention. Heliodryl supply. The little meter said I had a week's supply dripping through my veins courtesy of the biochem regulator. That was one less thing I had to worry about at least.
I opened my eyes and a flashing marker appeared on the compass. Looking around the lab was empty. A thick layer of dust coating every thing. Irregardless I made a quick tour of the spacious lab. Dessicated equine skeletons were scattered around, dressed in tattered lab coats and splayed out like discarded toys.
The lab coats all had a logo embroidered onto them, worn and faded but visible was a crescent moon circle inscribed inside of a triangle set inside another of it's kind. In the border between the triangles was the text 'Blue Moon Laboratory' with each word aligned to a side.
Whatever happened here was long ago, but how was the system working?
Another one for the shelf. I turned and followed the marker on my compass, I wasn't sure if it was the exit but whatever it was, it had to be better than wandering around without direction. The marker led me through long hallways dotted with scorch marks and more skeletons. An ominously dark corridor appeared on my left.
I though about calling out for Zamora until I heard chittering, like the sound of a deep fryer slowed way down. It echoed out from the obscured end of the hallway. Whatever it was I wasn't sticking around and glued my muzzle shut.
After that I attempted to slink around like a mouse, trying not to make noise as I snuck around each corner and hugged the walls while fighting my jerking limbs. Eventually I came up to a stained steel door with a big faded radiation symbol.
Set into the frame of the industrial door was an access panel. Ones like that hadn't been used in construction for well over a decade but luckily for me they had a critical fault. The simple guts of the switch were familiar to me as I slid my magic through the unprotected seams in the panel. I found the two contacts and pinched them together, with a satisfying click of a heavy relay the hoof-thick door slid up, a chilly blast of foul air rushing over me. Beyond the double wide door frame was a barley lit room, correction: a chasm with catwalks. Deep darkness lined the bottomless pit that stretched far beyond sight. A tiny landing led to steel catwalks barely wide enough for two ponies abreast that cris-crossed the ocean of shadows connecting pillars of steel shrouded in cables, conduit, and steaming pipes.
Chitter chatter. Behind me the sound crawled up the corridors and into my ears. I slid into into the room and pinched the contacts again. The heavy door slid down and sealed causing the room to darken considerably, however only momentarily. A green night vision filter replaced my occluded sight revealing the full length of the metallic room but not it's depth. At the far end was a raised platform with a long control console and a reinforced cylinder in the center. The marker pointed right at it.
Augmented vision, I could get used to that.
I crouched and crawled forwards, every creak and groan of the walkway causing me to wince. Two equine robots sprung to life with bright amber eyes and trotted towards me. Quickly I crouch-ran to one of the nearby circular platforms of the massive steel pillars and his behind it.
The pair looked old, but not as decrepit as the one that had found me in the Downs. Mutlitools and cutting saws extended from their backs as they moved to a pillar opposite mine and started unbolting maintenance panels.
Once I was comfortable they were occupied I snuck down the ramp and crept towards the main platform. Industrial noises set the background. Slowly I rose to my full height as the marker flashed faster and faster. The jerkified corpse of a long dead pony was propped up against the silvery casing dressed in a discolored but sturdy looking hazmat garment, a fire axe embedded in it's shattered head encased in broken glass helmet
A clicking noise popped head unbidden, a little amber radiation symbol flashing in the bottom left of my HUD with the text 'Minor Radiation Exposure'.
The hazmat coveralls had a similar radiation symbol visible on the chest, most likely indicating a rating for protection from arcane radiation. Though the helmet was missing it'd be better than nothing.
Stripping the dessicated remains from the suit I slid the tail cover on first and cinched it tight before slipping into the slightly stiff heavy industrial suit. The heavy stainless steel seal ring hung about my neck like a piece of zebra jewelry, I'd discarded the useless helmet considering just about none of the glass was left.
Looking I saw the message about expose disappear as the clicking of the rad counter stopped. There was an active terminal attached to the cylindrical casing. Its screen was blank save for a login prompt with a flashing text insertion point.
A waterfall of text scrolled across my vision as the terminal glitched and new lines rolled across it's screen.
Authorized override, access granted. Welcome user X¶3£×76";d
Warning: Last exposure test 999 days ago
ERROR BUFFER OVERFLOW
Unsealing PROJECT WAVEBREAKER...
Disengaging protective casing...
Deactivating containment field...
With a horrendous metallic creaking the rust-free shroud split, the upper half crawling up while the lower dropped down. A painfully white energy field held aloft an artifact. A weapon. It's shape was unmistakable, a long bulky prototype rifle suffused with tightly wound wires and embedded with luminescent baleful green engraved gemstones. A shroud protected what appeared to be the barrel and the grip was designed for unicorn or combat harness use while the stock held several strange humming power cells.
The clicking returned and sped up as the casing retracted. This time the message read 'Minor Radiation Exposure', the weapon was eminating unsafe levels of ambient decaying arcane energies. It was most assuredly unsafe to handle, yet I couldn't find it in myself to so easily discard such a potential tool.
The glowing field died down and the rifle gently floated until it was level with me. I reached out with my magic and carefully lifted it from the field and brought it closer.
A series of amber lights lit up on the top of the weapon as a name appeared in the bottom right of my HUD.
'DE-71c Wavegun'
Just above it the number twenty appeared with a little radiation symbol next to it. That had to be an ammo counter. Another radiation roundel popped up on the bottom left with the word SAFE next to it. I wasn't sure how reassured I was by that.
A blaring noise cut through my focus. The two maintenance bots were rushing towards me, saw blades spinning furiously.
The rifle came up in my magic, a pull of the trigger. A warbling ripple tore through the air and was absorbed by the first raging bot and the grating beneath. Instantly it's plating crumpled like tinfoil and it's lighting bulbs shattered while the deck rattled. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut its momentum carried it forward to slam into the console behind me as I threw myself aside.
Killer bot number two adjusted it's vector and slammed into me like a car. The wavegun dropped to the decking as I was pinned. A flurry of sparks showered me as I ripped my head aside to dodge the killing blow and the saw grazed the shaking steel grate. Another swing, stopped using my magic to hold the blade fast. It's multitool arm grabbed my throat and squeezed. White and black spots formed on the edge of my vision and slowly crept in as warning messages flashed across my HUD.
With as much force as I could magically muster I ripped the saw blade to the side. A burst of sparks blinded me as it's multitool was severed. The black crept in, it was locked on my throat. Still pinned I released the saw and freed my neck from the constricting pliers, blood rushing up and oxygen down.
A horrifying screech of tortured metal. The jagged blade tore through synthetic muscle and composite scale alike, sending a surge of molten pain through my face as sparks and blood sprayed across the deck—I pulled the trigger. The wavegun hovered in my glowing levitation against the bot's sensor head, gemstones glowing, but nothing happens when I pull the trigger. Red lights flashed on the top, it was still charging.
I dropped it and used every bit of faltering magic to yank the saw from my muzzle. It bore down on me and struggled against my magic. As it put all it's weight into forcing the blade down on me I released it and curled my body to kick it away. The saw bit into the steel deck and stopped abruptly, it was jammed. Grabbing the only other weapon available I jerked the axe up and brought it down on its sensor head with every last ounce of self-preservation.
The petrified pony head was wedged in the blade as it connected with the rusticated metal housing. It split into chunks as I buried the axe as deep as possible, relishing the metallic crunch. With a waterfall of sparks and sheared shrapnel the murderous drone hung limply, it's pressure on my limbs gone.
With a heave I shoved the hulking bot off of me. It was when then I noticed the driblets of blood leaking from my muzzle. I sat down and held my broken jaw with both forehooves, sharp pain lancing through my face. Red text flashed informing me pain suppressants and coagulants were being injected. Another told me auto repair systems has been activated.
As I got to my hooves a few droplets of blood fell before the flow was staunched, the cutting pain dropping to a throbbing ache. I took some time to scan the room for more bots as I hefted up the wavegun, the ammo counter reading nineteen now and the charge indicator was amber, still not ready. Looking back I stared at the fire axe, I was going to need as many weapons as I could get my hooves on so I wrenched it free and floated it and the rifle alongside me.
A giant millipede with a pair of mandibles the size of kitchen knives slithered along the unsteady catwalk. It's lurching body crawling out of the now open door until it's full length was visible, all twenty feet of it. It reared up towards me and made a rapid clicking noise as hundreds of mandibles on it's belly revealed a mouth stippling with sizzling acids that ran the entire length of it's underside.
Glancing I saw the amber lights on the wavegun, too late. The millipede skittered towards me in a flash and was lunging for my head. Jerking back I forced the handle of the fore axe into it's primary mandibles and tried to hold it back. I had to release the wavegun and brace myself, it chomped and shook with hungry rage trying to twist the axe or bite it in two.
Snapping its body like a whip it tore the axe from my grasp and shot towards my throat. I leapt into the air and angled my hooves as I came down hard onto it's back carapace. There wasn't even a crack.
With another whip I was tossed way into the air head over hoof, the creature positioning its waiting mandibles beneath me. A green light stood against the darkness, it was all that I needed.
I whisked the charged wavegun to my side as I reached my apogee, feeling the absence of gravity for a split-second before plummeting back down. A pony's length above the millilede's head I sent a thunderous wave through its insectoid body. Chitin cracked and imploded, green blooded spurting from every hole, its death rattle almost harmonizing with the screech of the catwalk crumpling and giving way.
Before I could land on the broken insect it and the catwalk fell away beneath me faster than I was falling. The steel decking sheared into bits as it slammed and bounced off the steel pillars, faring not much different the millipede was cut to pieces by a network of pipes and beams.
Before I could count my luck at not hitting anything I registered the sounds of splashing water seconds before I was plunged into a dank pool of murky black water. As soon as I figured out which way was up I swam to the surface and coughed up the acrid water.
Chittering from above snatched my attention. Looking above with my augmented vision I could see more millilede's crawling down the walls towards me, there was so many I could scarcely see the walls beneath them.
Time to move. Taking a deep breath I dove down searching for a way out. There was a submerged door but its control panel was dead, beside it was a big acrylic viewing window.
Looking around I spotted the axe and pulled it over to me through the water. With all my might I swung the axe, with magic then with my teeth at the window causing a few small chips. My lungs burned forcing me topside, I packed my lungs and dove again to hack away at the acrylic, each swing reduced to a slow whoosh by the thick waters. A spider web fracture shot across it's surface, crisply cracking as more and more cracks splintered off the main web, covering the entire surface.
With a bang and a torrent of water the acrylic finally shattered. Tiny bits of safety glass exploded outwards away from me like a grenade blast as the currents ripped me forwards. I was slammed into the wall of the adjacent corridor and pinned by the rushing waters. Seeing the axe and wavegun rush by I managed to scoop them up in my magic.
When the water finally died down and released me from the wall I dropped to my hooves only to see millipedes zipping my way. An armored shutter hung over the empty window frame, secured by a single hefty pin. I yanked it free.
The shutter creaked then roared down as a millipede darted through the quickly closing gap. Turning to run I felt two knives spitroast my back left leg, a blistering nanosecond later the shutter crashed closed with a meaty chonk and crunch. I collapsed and rolled over to see the squirming front half of the insect that had been chopped by the closing shutter. Millipedes on the other sides banged against the steel but it held fast.
The bug's mandibles were deep in my leg, having cut through the thick hazmat suit like paper. Another moment and I'd have been amputated at the hip. Fire shot through me, burning its way through me as hot needles of pain crawled up my spine. I grit my teeth and slammed my hoof on the floor repeatedly. After it stopped squirming I managed to get ahold of my breathing and tried to staunch the bleeding with my magic.
Blood soon filled the legging of the suit. I undid the cargo belt and tied it just above the wound and cinched it tight. I bit my lip hard enough to bleed, well it would've bled if it was still flesh. The tourniquet held though, the flow of blood stopping completely.
Now came the shitty part. Taking several quick breaths I grasped both mandibles in my magic and ripped them free in a spurt of blood. I rolled over and threw my head back, biting my forehooves to keep from screaming. My leg felt like it had a thousand razor cuts, had been soaked it lemon juice, then gasoline, and set on fire.
I don't know how long I lay there, trying to drown out the pain and failing miserably. However eventually more pain suppressants kicked in and I was able to form coherent thoughts once more. Doped up on Nopane I was able to stand and limp around on three hooves.
Still leaking life force I scanned the corridor I was in, there were colored lines along the wall with labels. There were several but all I could see was the peeling red text that said 'Aid Station'.
I limped for what felt like two hoofball fields until I finally arrived at the aid station. Stumbling in I saw a row of cots, empty wide open cabinets, overturned instrument carts, and a pile of long dead equine corpses in threadbare gowns piled in a corner.
Desperately I pilfered drawers, cabinets, and shelves but found nothing but empty bottles and used syringes. When I rifled through the office desk I found a half bottle of Apple Family hard cider, it's have to do. I brushed the dust off a cot and managed to roll onto it and sit upright.
Tearing strips of cloth from the mattress I scraped as much dust and dirt from them as I could. Then, taking a wad I bit down hard as I poured the cider on the puncture wounds. The burn was distant but poignant nonetheless. I wrapped the leg in several layers of the thin material to form a bandage, it'd be hell to remove but it was better than bleeding out.
It was about this time I looked up and saw my sister
"Retrieve the projects, escape the lab, save sister," she said, clear as day.
I blinked and she disappeared. A new marker appeared on my compass.
"Okay. Empirically, this is fucked," I said.
Whatever was giving me these visions had at least partial control over my compass, sensory augs, possibly other systems too. How in Celestia's golden arse did they know what my dead family looked like? That list of implants had included a cogitation unit, but that was beyond anything we had today. Especially if it was accessing my memories, directly interfacing with my brain. Just what had they stuck in me?
I checked the wavegun, the reassuring green charge light bringing a smile to my face.
"Sure, let's go dig up some old lost tech and fight lethal monstrosities for an unknown benefactor pulling my strings with ghosts of my dead family," I chuckled.
My mind was cradled in a frayed net, a little more weight can't hurt. Just bury it, shove it aside, push through and don't think about it. I wasn't afraid, I wasn't scared, I wasn't lonely, I wasn't broken.
I shook my head vigorously, focusing on the throbbing pain it brought to distract me. There wasn't time for useless thoughts. I had to get out of here, to find Zamora. Those projects, I'd have to get them before I'd be able to leave. Yes. Retrieve the projects then escape the lab.
I stuffed the quarter bottle of cider and more torn rags into a satchel. A belt from a corpse that wasn't using it anymore became a makeshift sling for the wavegun. The fire axe I alternated between holding in my teeth or floating it beside me.
My magic felt strange, like it wasn't mine. I couldn't perform any of my light spells or any magic beyond basic levitation. Was the deadhorn daiquiri wearing off? Maybe the arcane interjector implant had something I do with it? Valuable questions. I was beginning to amass a fortune of them, though I had increasing doubts as to whether I'd ever be able to cash in on it.
The hallways down here were devoid of the noises of crawling insects, however the hollow silence that remained instead was far more eerie. Cool damp air was circulated by struggling recyclers. Pre-fab metal walls sweat and icy LED lights turned on and off at random intervals. Rust was just beginning to creep from the cracks and crevices while the painted navigation lines peeled.
It wasn't long before I arrived at another double wide reinforced door. This one lacked any glaring warning labels, instead just having alphanumerical markers. Same make and model as the last though. A few moments and the heavy groan of another two ton security door being coerced open.
There was a sally port that led to a massive octagonal control room full of blinking consoles and tables stacked high with folders and books. In the center was a raised octagonal platform with a slanted plexiglass window on each side.
Just above each frame was a petrified equine corpse sat in an arcane looking articulating chair with a harness of wires and connectors slotted into ports along their spines.
Limping closer to on of the windows I saw the decaying body of a changeling in a room, no more than a four by four meter box with nothing but a toilet/ sink combo, a steel bunk, and a plastic mattress. A heavy security door was opposite the window, shit tight. The bright orange jumpsuit hung limply to the deflated remains, life long gone from their eyes.
Food pellets were piled in a small hill under a dispenser next to an inverted water dripper mounted in the wall, like the kind you found in small pet cages.
The next was the same cell, except the changeling had torn strips of plastic from their mattress and braided them together to make a noose. The same that they had tied to the light fixture and hung themselves by. I went to the next,
Head smashed against wall,
Drowned in toilet,
Leg chewed off,
Mouth and nose stuffed with synthetic fiber,
Artery cut with zipper,
Every body a changeling, each death self-inflicted. Except, when I moved to the eigth window they weren't.
"Shaky wouldn't dare! I'd promised Miss Chartreuse a splendid night out and now he's swoops in to steal her from me?" said the puce stallion trotting back and forth in the cell.
A sickly green flame engulfed them and in a flash an old bright green unicorn mare stood in their place.
"Dear Mortimer, I do wish you'd refrain from voicing your delusions. Just because I actually said 'Goodnight' for once, Celestia knows why, does not mean I agreed to whatever hair-brained mockery of a date you've envisioned for yourself," she said, whipping her head dismissively only to look directly into my eyes.
"Hey," I said.
"What... You can't be real—" another wash of green flames, the old mare replaced by a grey younger mare "—Look! He's got the Wavebreaker on his back—" more green fire, this time a chestnut stallion "—Listen to me, you've got to shut project Vicar down—" whoosh, orange stallion "—Get us back into our bodies—" yellow mare "—The reset period is soon we don't have much time—" wavy-striped zebra "Don't listen to them, kill us. Kill us now before they esca—" a violent baleful green immolation shook the floor, leaving a hard-bitten sapphire stallion with a short jagged pearly mane.
"Enough," he said, biting down hard on his forehoof leaving a bloody bite mark.
"Whoever you are you must access the remote tethering terminal behind you and disconnect all the tethers, login with the username Dr. Withering Hail. Password is 'Over my dead body 33, all lowercase, no spaces" he said.
The compass marker was pointing directly at him.
"Don't you want out of that cell?" I asked.
He facehooved and sighed, "If I wanted that, I would've asked for such. Just do what I told you."
I backed up and turned around to see the ancient computer he had been referring too. Using his credentials I logged in as I wiped the film of dust from the screen. There were several options listed:
Reset all tethers
There was so much not right with this. I spun and nearly fell over myself before I went back to the window only to find the stallion gone. In his stead there was a charcoal changeling, shaking and curled up on the worn cot.
"Wha– Who are you?" I asked.
"N-nobody..." they said.
"Those other ponies, were they you?" I said.
They just curled up tighter. Their eyes clenched shut as soft sobs barely escaped the room through the thick armored glass.
"What is project Vicar?" I said.
No response.
"What are the tethers? What happens if I disconnect them?" I said.
No response.
"I'm trying to help you," I said.
They shot up, wings buzzing as they slammed both their hooves into the glass. I was thrown into my ass out of shock as the changeling's visage twisted into a vicious mask of malice.
"Fuck you!" they hissed, "You're a glorified zookeeper. You think I don't already know that I'm worthless, nothing but a piece of clothing to be worn?" They hissed.
I was taken aback, finding purchase beneath my hooves as I levelled a blank stare at them.
"I don't know what you're referring too," I said.
Their hooves dropped from the glass as they hovered back down to slump on the floor. Head hung they spoke softly, barley audible through the window.
"I know. It's been a while hasn't it? The others haven't noticed but I count the days, I see the cobwebs and rust," they said dejectedly.
I nodded but raised an eyebrow, "Others?"
"The scientists tethered to me," they turned around and gestured to the black metal crest embedded in the back of their skull. Pointing a hoof at the implant they sighed.
"You asked what project Vicar was, well this is it," running from the base of the their horn to the top of their spine it had quick disconnect ports and precise chamfered angles.
"Take a changeling, rip out half their brain, shove a computer and a network uplink in, and out comes me. Want to sneak into enemy territory? Attend a meeting with a dangerous warlord? Cheat on your wife with someone on the other side of the continent? Just plug in..." their voice trailed off.
"So those ponies, they were using your body? Remotely control you and live through you using that implant?" I said.
A nod.
"Why so many?" I said.
"Zhalia had said that when the oher recievers... when they were gone that the scientists were dead and the system had no where else to put their engram, so eventually," they tapped the side of their head "all wound up here,"
"What's an engram?" I said.
"Full of questions aren't you? Zhalia was like that, always poking at the world around her. From what I understand engrams are like a copy of a pony's mind, beyond that I'm not sure, sorry," they said.
"No, that's okay. Thanks," I said.
"If you disconnect their tethers I don't know what'll happen. Their engrams have nowhere to go," they said.
"It also gave the option to 'Purge tethered engrams' too, either all or specific ones," I said.
Their expression lifted to look up af me, eyes awash in a mixture of hate, anger, hope, regret, pain.
"They'd be gone. Erased," they said, gaze staring off behind me.
"Where are they now? They seemed to be jumping over each other earlier to get a word in," I said.
"Dr. Hail told us that there was instability in the implant. A pony couldn't spend so much time an artificial brain stuff inside a changeling forever without errors occuring. For a few minutes every twenty four hours the system resets and all the engrams are... Asleep I guess. When they come back I'll be stuffed back down until the next reset," they said.
I sat down again. Nine minds, one body. What was the best solution here? Disconnecting the tethers would likely just kill them or not even work considering the original ponies and zebra were dead. I could try and find a way to rig it to constantly reset so the engrams would be suppressed but I wasn't familiar with the technology, not to mention the issue of finding them new hosts. Tech like this wasn't even supposed to exist, it was an age beyond anything we had today.
"Bas Typhoon, the zebra. Purge the others, he should have my body. He's the only one ever spoke to me like I was real," they said.
Purge seven of the engrams, keep one, and let them have the changelings body? Hmm.
"What if I purged all of them? Wouldn't you be yourself again?" I said.
"Self? There's no self, not in me. I'm just a shell, may as well let one decent person get a life out of it," they said.
"But surely—"
"I was born here, as a hatchling. Never given a name. Never seen the sun, stars, or moon. Never met anyone that wasn't wearing a labcoat or a jumpsuit. Conditioning, obedience, order, structure, routine. If they could've used a machine they would have Instead they spent years making me no different than one," they said.
I got up and limped over to the terminal, leaving them to their sorrows. Tearing yourself apart was a horrible thing, but wasn't it okay if it was to save somepony? Sacrifice is counted as a noble virtue, so why did this feel so different?
The choice wasn't as easy as I'd liked it to have been. Tapping the keys I selected the best option and pressed it, confirming the selection.
There wasn't a massive bang or charming alert to signal something had happened. I limped over to the window and looked down.
They were laying in a twitching heap on the ground, drool pooling around their mouth. I scanned the lab around me and found a stairwell leading down. Half limping, half running, I rushed downstairs through the short corridor to a room made of eight doors with a terminal protruding from the center floor.
Using the doctor's credentials I logged in and opened every door. With a hiss they slid down into their frames as I clumsily ran to the changeling.
Their eyes were staring ahead, I gently shook them. For endless minutes I rolled them onto their other side and prodded them and heaved their body onto the mattress. I sat their for Luna knows how long before their mouth moved and their eyes blinked.
"...please tell me you didn't do what I think you did," they said weakly.
"Those ponies had a chance to live their lives already, you've never even had a foalhood," I said, placing a hoof on their shoulder.
"You killed Bas!" they shouted in my face.
"He died years ago when his corpse rotted in that chair," I said defensively.
"He was alive, his mind, his memories. Bas had a good heart. If he was here instead of me he'd be able to help more ponies, share some of his love with the world. You've robbed him of his future," the said.
"No, I gave you yours!" I said, shaking them with both my hooves on their shoulders.
"It wasn't your fucking choice!" they yelled.
"It was best for you," I said, realeaing them.
"Like you know what I need. If Bas lived then my life would have at least had some meaning. I'd have saved someone, done something worthwhile. Now I'm just an empty shell, a nothing," they said.
"No one is ever nothing," I said softly.
"Shut up, you don't know me," they said, getting off the cot and shoving past me.
I limped behind them and they shot me a venomous glare back.
"There is a whole city above your head, a city full of ponies doing their best and getting crushed by a system meant to farm them for every second of their time, every bit of their paystub, every pound of flesh. I've seen ponies with nothing, discarded at birth, grown in the streets, torn apart by the system, and killed several blocks from the same gutter they were thrown in as a foal. You have something they don't," I said.
They stopped and shoved a hoof into my chest, "and just what is that?"
"Someone you cared about, you were willing to give up your life for Bas. He's gone but your memory of him isn't. You want to share Bas' love with the world? You still can. Through you his light can shine," I said, wrapping my hoof around theirs.
Their eyes softened as a tear formed and traced their cheek.
"I can't do what Bas could, I'm not a good pony," they said.
"We don't live for what we are, we live for who we can be. Besides, only good ponies try and sacrifice themselves for other good ponies so I wouldn't sell yourself too short," I said.
"Who I can be... I don't know what's possible. I've never been anything more than a test subject," they said.
"Most of us don't really know either, we just try through each day and each moment to do better than the last. You can do that can't you? For Bas?" I said.
Tears hit the ground as they made the slightest nod, "For B-Bas."
We went back upstairs as they spent time sitting Infront of each of the other seven windows staring at the bodies, the last one they sat Infront of was their own cell, now empty.
"You should have a name," I said.
They looked up at me puzzled, "Why?"
"Well, if I wanted to ask you something what would I say?" I said.
"You'd just say 'test subject K4Z3, what is my favorite color?' or something like that," they said.
"K4Z3, like Kaze?" I said.
"Kace?" they said.
"No, Kaze. Kazzze. Four and three are often used are substitutes for A and E in lingo, figured it works here too," I said.
"Kaze. I think I hate it," they said.
"We could pick something el—"
"I'll keep the name Kaze. My designation is the only thing that belongs to me, choosing an arbitrary name would be meaningless," they said.
"Well, ok then. It is yours after all," I said.
"It is, isn't it." They said, smiling slightly.
We sat there staring at their empty cell for another ten minutes before the rose their head.
"What now?" They said.
My compass marker was gone and after a few seconds was replaced by another slowly blinking cursor.
"Now we live."