Chapters Journal of A Railroad Builder
It’s hard to believe it’s already been a hundred and thirty one years since the golden spike was driven.
It’s also just as difficult to believe that in all that time, next to nothing has been found regarding the railroad builders’ lives during its construction. I’m sure plenty of records are still around. It’s still weird to think I’m the first worker to talk about what happened to us while working. Nothing extremely controversial happened, though there were more than a few problems
Given the circumstances under which this journal was written, I think it would be best to explain some stuff. First off, I’m the author. My name’s Wayward, I’m communicating this foreword to a scribe through a spirit summoning, and yes, everything in here is true. I didn’t make anything up or omit anything out of fear of the Royal Guard knocking down my door or possibly getting lynched. Equestria was different back in 967.
That was one of the biggest differences between the book and the current era. It was written more than a hundred years ago. Racism against non-pony species was a problem at the time, and schisms with the deer, buffalo, and zebra were all too common. Despite this, foreign species workers were welcomed just as warmly as the rest of us.
That’s enough of that, though. Let’s move on to the railroad itself, the reason I’m sure you picked up this little book for. The Transequestrian Railroad runs for roughly 500 miles in each direction (North, South, East, and West), and that’s not counting the branch offs from the major railways. Altogether, every meter of track laid adds up to a little over 2000 miles of railroad. The original plan for the railroad was for it to be constructed in 4 major sections (called Trunk Lines), each of which would be built by the hooves of 200 or more volunteer workers. That’s right, everyone who joined up did so out of their own will. No one was forced into it, and everyone was allowed to leave should they find the task too grueling. Luckily though, very little of the latter took place, at least on the crew I was part of. Each section would run from its city of origin to a single connecting point at the exact center of Mt. Canterlot. The railroad leading up to the marble city was actually a branch off, unlike what most believe.
The original plan was that through teamwork, sheer will, and the desire to succeed, the Trunk Lines would be completed by 968 RCO (Reign of Celestia Only). Unfortunately, due to events I’m sure everyone’s learned at least once in history class, that wasn’t the case. Miraculously though, the whole thing was completed, branch lines included, by New Year’s Day 969.
Now for a bit on me. I was a drifter of sorts (I still enjoying travelling, in both this world and the next), wandering from town to town in a simple effort to see the next sunrise with both eyes intact. Despite what you folks may think of the whole “drifter equals gruff, handsome, muscular stallion” stereotype, get it out of your head now. Not even ten of the folks I worked with fit that description. We were all just Average Joes trying to help out the nation and earn a few bits in the process.
I can’t remember for the (after)life of me why I bought this journal in the first place, but it was a good thing I did. As for why the first entry in this thing seems like a story opening in the middle, it kind of is. I didn’t decide to start writing in it until after I joined the crew, after I met the three ponies who would become my closest friends, and after the first day of construction was complete. After that, I only wrote in it after some time had passed or something interesting happened. I never put a date in the damned thing, but despite the low amount of entries, they cover a little over two of the better years of my life.
In short, I had seen a poster plastered on the side of a skyscraper in Manehatten and, with literally nothing better to do, I decided to sign up. I mean, travel the world, help out the kingdom, and get paid? It seemed like a good idea, and it was, more or less.
So, I headed out to the recruiting station near where the first track of the Manehatten Trunk Line was destined to be laid. Looking back on it, it seemed like the only 3 requirements for a unicorn to join were:
A: knowledge of simple telekinesis spells.
The entire interview took about half an hour, and then after getting my first month’s pay in advance (I couldn’t help but think that was a bad sign), the recruiter pointed me in the direction of a skyscraper that had been temporarily purchased for use as a home for workers who didn’t already have one. I had a feeling that there would be a significant amount of Ibex and Zebra on the crew, but it was almost shocking to actually see so many in the flesh. They were equines too, but my parents were never the best receiving of the striped guys, much less the ones with two horns. There were even a few donkeys onboard, and the ponies I saw didn’t seem like they were interested in a fellow member of their species.
Somehow though, another unicorn spotted me out of the crowd and just about dragged me by my tail to meet her friends. Said unicorn was a mare by the name of Swan Song. She was cheerful beyond belief, and had a singing voice that never failed to impress. Her brother was a workhorse by the name of Rook. I still wonder to this day if he had some sort of genetic anomaly that made him as big as he was. His collar was custom made to fit him, and despite his brutish figure, he was a gentle giant and loved chess. The last individual I met that day was almost the exact opposite of the first two. His name was Jack of All Trades (though he just preferred “Jack”), and he redefined the term “skittish”. I’m pretty sure that if I dropped a safety pin at one end of an empty warehouse and had him sit at the other side, he would’ve heard it and ran for cover. He was a nice guy though; a good heart, smart, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had serious affections for Swan. I got the feeling though that he didn’t want anybody to know about it, so I stayed silent.
We talked for a long while, and then the four of us went out to dinner together. I had never been the subject of better hospitality before in my life. We split the check four ways before heading back to the apartment complex and spending the night playing cards and chess. We were friends in a day, and I still meet with them every once in a while (there’s a lot to do in the afterlife, believe me).
We had a few days before the entire thing kicked off, and the first spike of the Manehatten Trunk Line was driven by the local investor on the first day of Spring. I’ll let my journal entries take it from here. I hope you enjoy reading through my adventures as much as I did writing them.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
Only one day has been spent on the railway so far, and what a day it's been.
The whole thing started before sunrise. Everyone woke up early, ate, drank, and took inventory of our personal items before being filed outside to look over our supplies. Beams, rivets, hammers, nails, canteens, food, just about everything we would need for the big haul to Mt. Canterlot. We even got our own train! It's pretty to look at, but it definitely looks like it could take more than a few hits. It's called the Profectus , and it's big enough to carry everything that the rest of the crew can't. To be honest though, that isn’t that much, since the crew’s living on a steady but minimal diet.
Anyway, the entire thing started with this big "first spike" celebration. This massive crowd of equines, myself included, gradually migrated over to the site of where the city’s primary train station would be. Some neatly dressed unicorn hammered the first spike with one swing. As I found out later, that unicorn was called Mr. Heart Well, and he had personally paid for everything supply-wise that the Manehattan Trunk Line needed. There was confetti, music, and some of the best cake I’ve ever had in my life.
After that, the crew got a couple of pictures together before setting to work. Everyone’s been assigned their positions. Rook’s been assigned to pull the Profectus alongside a couple other workhorses. Swan and I have been assigned to hammering rivets, carrying supplies, just average stuff, really. Jack was roped together with a couple of other pegasi for a scout group. They're supposed to make sure our path is clear of what can be cleared solely with pegasi muscle, and report back anything that can’t be. After that, another team comes in to remove the bigger problems, which usually involve boulders, trees, and/or lots of dynamite. Rook seems to be much more like a machine rather than a pony while on the job, he's pulling the locomotive along like he was born doing it. Swan's been singing a few songs to keep morale up, and she actually got a few of us to hum along. Jack's been bringing back "all clear" reports in record time. Me, I've been doing alright. 3 swings and a spike is in, move onto the next, repeat until the sun goes down.
It's still a bit difficult to wrap my head around just how well the team's working together despite such little time. We managed to lay a few miles of track today. It wasn’t a special achievement, but there were very few problems. Some say it’s a bad omen, others think it’s just good luck. I prefer the latter.
Unfortunately though, this job didn’t turn out to be what some folks had hoped for. A few workers quit after camp was set up for the night. Some guys weren’t able to take the workload, others were homesick, and I’ve heard rumors that one had to be escorted back because of a severe allergic reaction to something. We've got about 200 workers left, but that'll be more than enough to complete the Trunk Line on time.
Speaking of workers, there’s this one stallion that bugs me to know end. From what I’ve gathered, his name is Big Iron. He’s as grey as his name suggests, and while much smaller than Rook, he’s no less intimidating of a workhorse. He’s also apparently the leader of the entire crew. Frankly, I didn’t even know this crew had a central leader to it. He seems like a decent guy, but there’s something off about him. He’s been treating the ibex and zebras a bit harsher than the rest of us. It’s probably just stress though. After all, I would sure as hay be on edge if I was in charge of around two hundred random strangers all trying to build the same thing.
Manehattan is a bit smaller now, but it’s no less visible. Even with a fire going next to me, I can still see the city’s lights as though they were tiny suns.
It’s been a long day and I need to get some rest and recover from maintaining a single spell for so long.
I get the sense these entries aren’t going to be as frequent as I hoped.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
It feels like it’s been months since my last entry, but it hasn't really been that long. A lot has changed.
Manehattan's no longer visible, but the memories are still as clear as though they happened hours ago. Some of the workers have gotten homesick, but we're helping them to continue. At the pace we're going, they'll be back to their families by Hearth Warming's Eve.
Others are having difficulties as well, next to all of which involve some variant of physical exhaustion. We all get equal shifts, but a few guys have to take an hour's rest or so. No one wants to quit out now, not after how far we've gotten. Besides, the walk back to Manehattan's a long way.
I'm worried, it seems like the mentality of the crew is beginning to change under stress. I was about to end my shift when I saw a zebra already out, picking up where I'd left off. I had forgotten to refill my lantern, and it shorted out as he brought his mallet down. It seemed like the world came to a momentary halt as that unforgettable sound of cracking bone filled the air. I rushed over and carried the helped the poor screaming striped stallion to a medical tent and it turns out that he only sustained a minor fracture to his left shin.
The doctor says he'll be out of work for a couple of days, but even after he's able to work again, he'll be restricted to "lightweight work" for another few weeks.
While it may sound morbid, even a bit selfish, that zebra's injury isn't the most worrying thing that happened that night. Actually, it was the looks, or lack thereof, that we got on the way to the medical tent. Even with the rapidly dwindling night, I could easily see hostility in some equines' eyes, and total indifference in others'. The scant few looks of concern I got from some of the workers did little to comfort my nerves. I actually got pulled aside by Big Iron and told to "leave the zebras to more qualified personnel"! What the hay does that even mean? I thought every member of the entire Railway effort believed in racial equality?
It's a bit sad to say that that incident was probably the most noteworthy thing to happen in some time. I've taken up trying to learn a bit of both Zebra and Ibex. If anything, it'll help along the railway a bit smoother.
I can't dwell solely on the bad, though. I've gotten to know Rook, Swan, and Jack all a bit better now. Rook's been working overtime when it comes to pulling the Profectus along. Somehow, he always has enough energy left in him for a game of chess or two. He may be a machine on the job, but he makes for a great pillow when off it.
Swan Song's been cycling through more songs than I believed physically capable of remembering. She has yet to repeat one (unless otherwise requested), and she sings each song with such grace that, before we know it, the sun is setting and another mile or so of track has been laid. She's by far the pony with the highest spirits out of the 200 of us. I can see why Jack likes her.
Speaking of Mr. Skittish, the pegasus seems to have grown more comfortable with his surroundings. That seems to have helped him out a lot. He's reaching out, trying to make new friends, but he still has us, Swan especially. I get the sense we're all he really wants.
The four of us have taken up a few different card games as a sort of "end of the day" kind of thing, just a way to wind down after roughly 10 or more hours of work. We've taken a particular liking in 21 Blackjack. It's quick, fun, and easy to learn. One of the first rules we were told before we joined the Manehattan Trunkline was that gambling using any sort of currency was strictly prohibited. We use bottle caps and sometimes moderately sized rocks instead. It's funny, really. Jack gets some of the worst hands in the game, but he can scare all of us out of staying whenever he wants to. The stallion flinches at an unfamiliar shadow, but he has a poker face that could discourage a fully grown cockatrice. Still, he lets Swan Song win every time.
All in all, we're the best of friends. It's a nice feeling.
I may not be able to add a new entry until much later. The Trunkline crew has to punch a hole in the side of Hollow Shades Mountain Range.
Until then.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
It's been an odd day, but there has been progression.
The Trunkline wasn't more than a few miles past Hollow Shades Mountain when we got one of those magical parchment notes from the Princess herself. We were ordered to double back around and construct a branch track to an outpost on the edge of Hollow Shades Forest.
Of course, we complied and made our way backwards. We had all hoped that if we just pushed on, we'd make it to a safe place to rest our heads. As it turns out, we got a little more than we bargained for.
The letter had left out the fact that the outpost we were laying track to was now officially under the control of the local deer that occupied Hollow Shades. Even though antlered folks were unfamiliar with the Railway and how it was built, they did their best to help us along. Personally, I think they did a great job given their experience level.
The deer were actually much friendlier than we had originally perceived. There had been a few skirmishes with pioneers not too long ago, but these guys seemed to have none of that. They traded their own gods for ours, helped fix up the worst of the wounded; they even invited us to make camp smack dab in their own village!
A good majority of the crew was completely accepting in the deer's offers, I've heard murmurs that a few actually want to stay. Maybe they actually didn't have a home to come back to before now. I also couldn't help but notice that some crew members only begrudgingly accepted the deer's help. A lot of them didn't make conversation with the locals, preferring to stick to their own little group. I even heard a few whispering about "reclaiming our base". They didn't seem serious, but I'm still concerned.
The trio has probably recovered the most. Swan's singing again, even learning a couple of the natives' songs. She's even taught them a few of her own.
Jack looks much happier as of late, and I get the sense that a few of the deer have taken a liking to him. He's talking to a few does as I write this, the lucky stallion.
Rook though, he doesn't seem to have changed much. The medicine doe removed a surprisingly large chunk of gravel from his hoof and wrapped the appendage in this sort of leaf-bandage-gauze thing. She didn't speak the best Equish, but the basic message to Rook was "don't work too hard." The workhorse acknowledged the warning, but I'm pretty sure he isn't going to slow down if it means bountiful progress. At least he was nice to her.
Today's been filled with the unexpected. Hopefully we can get everything back on track in a couple of days and press on. I think we're a little behind schedule.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
If the events this day are referred to as "The Battle at Neighagara Falls" for the rest of history, I won't disagree.
It all seemed so peaceful at first. We packed up, gave the deer our thanks, and traveled onward to continue the Railway. A few ponies stayed behind in Hollow Shades, but no one stopped them. I don't blame them; Hollow Shades is a really nice place to live.
The entire feeling of the Trunkline changed as soon as the forest was out of sight. There were heated arguments between those I believed to be good friends. Others actually took a few swings at one another. I don't know how, but the crew was divided, one side on one half of the track, the same for the other. Progress had slowed significantly.
Then the unthinkable happened. Rook essentially stopped mid-throttle and collapsed on the tracks just in front of the Profectus . Big Iron kicked him, both literally and figuratively, off of the team. Swan rushed over and tried to defend her older brother. Unfortunately, when a female unicorn whose special talent is music goes up against a male workhorse who's probably been performing hard labor his entire life, the outcome was easy to predict. Of course, Swan was struck down, but nopony could've expected what happened next.
The unicorn was actually tied to a makeshift flogging post, and then Iron goes on to yell some kind of speech! "Disobey the crew, disobey Equestria! This is your punishment!" he kept screaming. The bastard pulled a whip out of freaking nowhere and held it out to the crew. "Who shall teach this blasphemer her lesson?!"
The entire world stopped for a few good second, and then Jack volunteers to give her the 7 lashings! I wanted to cripple the skittish pegasus right then and there, but now I realize that he had the best plan out of all of us.
The guy spun around lightning quick and turned the whip on his own boss! Gave him a good hit right across his eye!
The world stopped again, and then everything went to what the griffons call "Hell."
It was weird, seemed like slow motion at first. Everypony wordlessly turned on some other, like we all knew who to team up with and who to take down.
I've never used a hammer like that before.
It was over in what felt like seconds. Somehow, the side I was part of, the "good" side, managed to beat down Big Iron and those who followed him.
We chained the "bad guys" to the railway and set them on a march of shame back to Manehattan. Swan's alive and unharmed, Rook's walking again, and Jack has become friendlier with the remaining crew. He and Swan have grown closer. It was a violent change, but it was for the better.
I'm going to get to bed early tonight. The day's taken a toll on every-
There is smoke in the distance. We've all dropped what we're doing. We have our weapons at the ready. We're all galloping full speed towards the smoke. We fear the worst.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
We should have finished what we started. We showed mercy, and because of that, many deer lay dead or dying. There's very little we can do for them, my heart aches.
As I write this, Hollow Shades lies in ruins. A large portion of the forest is now nothing more than a smoldering, grey husk.
We arrived soon after the flames had grown their largest. We did what we could, literally dragging the worst of the wounded away from the flames, trying to heal them. We helped scavenge whatever we could from the burning tents, items of both practical and sentimental value. There wasn't nearly enough water to put out the fire, it was too big, too far gone.
It was our fault.
After the initial chaos, we managed to rescue the medicine doe we had met previously, and it was through her that we learned what the hay was going on.
Big Iron's crew changed course, heading for Hollow Shades rather than Manehattan. The deer believed them to be in need of medical attention, and they immediately realized their mistake upon removing their chains. It was a massacre, and before anyone could figure out what was happening, the forest was in flames.
We continued to help out as best we could, though I highly doubt we made that much of an impact. At least the soil will be fertile.
As soon as everyone was accounted for, the crew split into 2 teams. The first would stay behind, both to defend and help the survivors. The second was to enter the still burning forest and dispose of any and all members of Big Iron's crew. I was part of that second team, and we went in knowing that we had to finish what we started back at Neighagara Falls. We hated every second of it, but we knew what had to be done.
The mission didn't take too long to accomplish. The fire certainly helped a significant amount. There are a few still unaccounted for, but both sides understand full well that their fate was sealed the moment they entered the forest.
The crew now numbers exactly 80 individuals. Progress has slowed significantly, and I pray that Celestia forgives us.
We'll start laying track once we're sure Hollow Shades is free of danger.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
Just our luck.
We were making such great progress, more track laid per day than before when Big Iron was in charge.
It took us actually less time than expected, but the crew eventually saw Mt. Canterlot on the horizon. A few days later, we were laying track through the pre-dug tunnel underneath the mountain. Whoever though that up should be given a medal or two.
Everything finally seemed at an end. It wasn't until the Dodge Junction Trunkline crew never appeared did we realize that we were all still hyped up on the oxygenated water from Neighagara. 75% isn't an A, nor is it a completion of a goal.
We all thought the D.J.T. was just a little late. Yeah, give them three days, they'll show up by then.
Those days turned to weeks, and then into months. It was only after the first snow had fallen that we realized that something had gone horribly wrong.
We can't lay track during the winter. No, there are way too many risks associated with that. We'd have to accommodate our wardrobes for the winter cold, and even the heaviest of coats does little to keep the chill at bay. We'd also have to plow through the heavy blanket of snow that would inevitably be in our way. The worst part of it though, is the fact that the wood used as foundation for the tracks would split and bend from the cold wet. We don't have enough supplies to constantly repair that.
So, we were all essentially fired, but we got paid for our service. Everypony chose to stay in Canterlot for the winter. The trip back would be way too arduous.
The roster was already filled up as soon as it reopened, and I recognized nearly all of the names as past crew members'. We all still knew each other, but all of the tunnelers from before were replaced by whom we'd later find out were bridge-builders.
The projected completion date in now 970 R.C. We're to set out the first day of spring.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
It's hard to believe all of the struggles this crew has been through. We look as fresh as the morning dew and as cheery as a newborn foal.
We're a full team of 300 again, plus some change. We've all restocked on everything needed; we even got a new train to pull along!
It's called the Patientia , old Equish for "Endurance." Boy does she live up to her name. She's lightweight, sleek, shiny, and looks like she can take more than her fair share of hits. Rook definitely seems to like her.
The crew's morale is quite high, and we're all eating full meals. We even successfully bridged our way over Saddle Lake in half the expected time. I didn't expect the pegasi we had, Jack included, to be as strong as they are.
Still, we have cause for concern. There's been no sign whatsoever of the D.J.T. crew. A good few of us have taken to theorizing about what the hay happened to them. Some say a hydra got them, others say they were snatched up by the Everfree forest. I'm not trying to get involved in that kind of thinking, but I do sometimes wonder where they went wrong.
The other reason we're concerned is the weird string of occurrences that have been happening lately. Jack saw several pairs of glowing eyes off in the distance and Swan heard howling, a lot of it. I heard it, and so did rook. None of us slept well that night. Then again, I doubt many of us slept at all.
The next day wasn't as bad as the first, but just as unsettling. We had had cludless skies for the past week. We wake up in the morning and we all check our clocks to make sure the alarms were set right! Clouds had covered the sky so heavily that we all thought it was night! We had to use hour lanterns during day hours, and even though there was zero lightning for miles around, we kept hearing this weird electric buzzing.
The third day, more crows than I though existed just take to the air and make this weird pattern mid-flight. Non of the workers, me included, could make whatever it was out. The spiraling black clouds and endless gail didn't help much. I still can't get those damned birds' calls out of my head.
At least we got some calm the fourth night. We were even treated to a meteor shower. One of the guys, an astronomer I think, said it was the annual Pegasid shower. Apparently we were lucky to have such a clean view of the event. We were all still trying to recover from the weirdness of the previous fiew days. I get the sense that that astronomer stallion was the only one that fully enjoyed it. Pity I still don't know his name.
None of it really matters though. We're not going to let some weird phenomena stop us from getting the job done. I hear there's some new town not too far ahead of us. Maybe we can all rest up when we get there.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
As it turns out, even the most ominous of events can signal that good times are ahead.
Apparently, those weird happenings that I wrote about in my last entry were some kind of series of signs signaling something called the "Zap Apple Harvest." The products of this harvest are the primary source of income for the same town I wrote about.
It's a fledgling city by the name of Ponyville. Some pilgrims set it up after the Princess herself gave them a large chunk of land not too far from the Everfree Forest. Despite the relatively dangerous location, the population looks to be thriving.
Anyway, these "Zap Apples" are unlike any other type of the fruit I've ever seen! They have all 7 colors of the rainbow across their skin, and their stems look like tiny lightning bolts! They taste good on their own, but the jam they're made into tastes phenomenal! I didn't even know apples could be made into jam!
A large portion of the crew volunteered to help with the harvest after entering the town. This pretty mare by the name of Smith told us how important these apples were to both her family and the city's residents. It wasn't surprising when most of the crew volunteered to help. According to Smith, the harvest has a very short window of opportunity, so every hoof helps.
After we finished up picking every Zap Apple we saw, we returned to our previous occupations, stopping only when the Patientia was secured just outside the town's train station. By then, the apples were converted into jam. Next thing I know, there's a feast in the town hall and everypony's invited.
It would've been rude to refuse, but given the town's surprisingly small population, the crew ate only small amounts. We weren't locusts, and we wanted to make sure that message was spread loud and clear.
We were given several jars of the wonderful stuff as souvenirs. We're to set out in another few days.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
Sometimes I really hate goodbyes. This is one of those times.
We hadn't even made it out of Ponyville before we got a new letter from the Princess. 200 of the crew have to go west from here, and then they'll have to split up from there!
100 workers are supposed to work their way through Whitetail Wood, and then from there, they have to continue all the way up to Applewood! The other 100 have to blow a hole through Smokey Mountain, and then they have to lay track all the way up to Tall Tale! And I thought the 100 I was part of had it bad, sheesh!
The goodbyes were warm, and we had one final round of cider last night to the departing. They'll be with us in spirit. I can only hope that they have a safe journey.
All that remains in the end are memories.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
Happiness to hardships and back again, I swear.
Our next targeted bridge site is Ghastly Gorge, and the Eels in there are the least of our worries.
We've had to skirt the Everfree Forest in order to avoid Timberwolves, and even then it only works some of the time. A couple of workers, including me, are still nursing wounds sustained by a hungry pack from a few days ago. Those creatures are resilient, to say the least.
Heat is another major problem. A few workers have come down with varying levels of Heat Exhaustion. We don't have that much shade and that from the forest may likely kill us by some unknown means.
Even Rook is tired. Swan has to take longer than normal breaks between songs, and Jack doesn't even seem scared. He's just quiet now.
It's difficult to sleep at night, as the shrieks of the Quarry Eels keep everypony from getting their needed amount of rest.
Happiness to hardships and back again. I only hope that little saying is as true as it is catchy.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
How the hay are we supposed to get over that?!
That was the question practically every worker had asked when we arrived at Ghastly Gorge. It certainly lives up to its name if anything.
Quarry Eels, vast depths, why the hay did Equestria thing it was a good idea to not only put a bridge here, but to have a train cross it as well?!
Eh, we have our orders and we're supposed to get a bridge built. The thing's huge, no way for our pegasi to carry the number of beams needed across. The trio, I, and a few others have volunteered to scout a safe way around the gorge so we can set up a foundation and build the bridge in less time. We know the risks, the benefits, and the requirements.
We're going in, and we're not going to let anyone, or anything, stop us.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
What happened last night was eerie. I can't find another word to describe it.
The scouting trip had been going great. We were clearing a good, safe path for others to follow when we realized the sun had set. We hastily made camp and put three guys on watch in order to keep the rest of us safe.
Everypony sans me fell asleep and stayed that way like a newborn foal. I just couldn't keep my eyes shut. Every minute or so I'd twist and turn one way or the other. After a while, I just couldn't deal with it any longer. I got up, got out of my tent, and went about checking what supplies we had. I did anything and everything to get my mind off of. . . something. I didn't know what it was, but I felt something in the back of my head, calling out to me, beckoning.
My will just wasn't strong enough. The guards didn't notice when I left my tent, nor did they see me when I left the camp. All I had for defense was a pickaxe, and a dull one at that.
There was this little voice, barely a whisper. It was menacing but beautiful and kept on beckoning me towards Celestia-knows-what! I followed that damned little voice for what felt like an eternity. I wandered through foliage, mist, even this creepy chunk of forest where I could've sworn the trees were staring at me!
Eventually, I ended up at this old, decrepit bridge. There was moss all over it, the ropes holding it together looked like they had been there for centuries, and mist obscured just how high the bridge was suspended. I should've turned back, but I didn't. I crossed the bridge.
After I had crossed, the mist cleared, and I was greeted by the nightmarish site of some sort of ruins. It looked vaguely like a castle, and was completely caked with vines and undergrowth. Other than that, the place seemed like the maid had come by and cleaned the entire area of rubble 10 minutes ago.
My legs seemed to be working on their own at that point. I entered the ruins, and was greeted with pure silence. No crickets, no wind, I couldn't even hear my own breathing!
Still, I kept at it, and that was when I came to what looked like the last room. There was this weird pedestal, on which 5 errant pillars stuck out in random directions. There was this little stone orb on each pillar, symbols on each that I didn't recognize.
It was only now that I regained full control of my body. I only had one thought in my mind: run. And run I did. I still have no clue how I made it back to camp, but I did. I was finally able to get to bed, though I'm unsure how fulfilling the rest I got really was
As soon as Celestia had raised the sun, I woke everypony in camp and told them of what had happened the night before. I got some of those "you expect me to believe that?" looks, but they agreed to follow me into the forest anyway.
Eventually, we made it to the ruins. We set up every stick of TNT where we believed would cause the most damage, cut the ropes holding the bridge up, and pressed the trigger.
Nopony, not even me, looked back to see if all that remained was rubble. We used enough explosives, but that place still bothers me. I pray that no one will ever have to set hoof in there again.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
It has been a long summer, which gradually made its way into autumn, and finally to winter. Still, the desert heat changes little when it comes to intensity.
Our most recent discovery confirmed this fact. We found the D.J.T. crew, but not in the condition we wanted to.
200 sets of bleach-white bones, all picked clean, lay scattered about on a circular fashion around the baked, defunct remains of the Dodge Trunkline's locomotive. I couldn't even make out its names, as the paint had been chipped away.
We had all expected this. None of us wanted to admit it, but we all knew that the D.J.T. didn't just give up and head home in the middle of work. The weirdest thing that we noticed was that not all of the former workers looked to have died of exposure. A few had really bad cracks on dome bones, a few even had their skulls broken.
Before anypony could react, the new guy in charge, a nice trustworthy fellow by the name of Creosote, shouted for everyone to shelter themselves behind the trains. As it had turned out, our timing couldn't have been any worse. A sandstorm, and a pretty big one at that, was approaching fast.
We had to crowd together behind the two train, and that barely did enough to keep us safe from the biting sand. We all closed our eyes, and we didn't open them again until we were ordered to do so by a voice that didn't belong to a member of the crew.
The sandstorm wasn't actually a sandstorm, but the dust trail of a bison war party! A lot of us couldn't decide if that revelation was a good thing, but when arrows didn't start raining down on us, we took our chances.
We were incredibly lucky, as the war party had a translator with them. His name was "Little Thunderhooves," and it was through him that the crew got the whole story.
To call the D.J.T. crew unfriendly towards bison would've been a major understatement. The buffalo wanted to help at first, maybe even trade a little, but when their initial attempts at contact were met with hostilities, they backed off. Sheesh, I didn't think ponies were this racist. I must have traveled to the better spots of the world.
Sometime later, an actual sandstorm hit the crew. The bison are more than well adapted to handle the waves of tiny rocks, but that isn't even half true for ponies and their kin.
Apparently, the D.J.T. crew dissolved into anarchy when the storm hit them. They thought they were under attack and attacked each other as a result. That explains the broken bones, and the rest succumbed to the burning sand before it was halfway over. That's a horrendous way to go, but the truth isn't always pretty.
I could tell just by looking that some of the crew didn't entirely believe Little Thunderhooves' story, but who were we to disagree? Even though we outnumbered the war party 5 to 1, we were still outmatched.
So, we acted the opposite of the D.J.T.'s crew. We made it clear that we were open to discussion. The bison were actually a bit shocked at our behavior, but they promised not to commit hostile action so long as we didn't either.
We explained our position, our goal, and our own views on non-pony species. Not all of Equestria's people are bad. We also made it clear that the Trans-Equestrian Railway would have next to zero impact on the bison's sacred stampeding grounds. I had always known the bison were deeply spiritual, but since when did the behemoths have sacred areas where they run?
The desert inhabitants thought long and hard about our claims, and their reaction was unexpected. They actually directed us through an area where we wouldn't impede them at all. Even better, this new route required much less supplies! We even managed to scavenge some materials from the remains of the previous crew!
The bison did more, and I still can't thank them enough. They actually escorted us the entire way to Dodge! None of the crew realized just how many different types of predators inhabited the desert flatlands, and it’s thanks to the buffalo that I'm writing from a safe inn located near the center of Dodge Junction. I didn't even know what a Cactus Coyote was until a few days ago, nor did I know they could open their jaws that wide.
There was a big celebration waiting for us when we laid the final tracks into Dodge. With a little persuasion, the citizens of Dodge let the bison take part as well. There were apple pies, square dances, salt licks, and more than a few pretty southern belles looking my way. I've never seen Rook dance before last night, and he's lighter on his hooves than I could've ever imagined. It was obvious that Jack and Swan would dance together, and they were surprisingly good for beginners.
I've promised to keep in touch with Little Thunderhooves. He'd make for an excellent chief one day.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
I write this final entry as I sit by the windowsill in my hotel room near Manehattan center. Celebrations are still in full swing. It's over. It's all finally over.
3 years of blood, toil, tears, and sweat. The railway is finally done. Every piece of it. Even my crew didn't expect it to be over so soon.
It was just before the end of the year when we got the letter, signed by the Princess herself, to return to Canterlot. What we didn't expect was that we'd be taking our own train!
We said goodbye to the friends we had made in Dodge, including the bison, and started shoveling coal. The Patientia roared to life, and we were back in Canterlot just as the sun began to set! It was magnificent!
We were confused to learn that our information was not entirely accurate. While all the Trunklines and branch railways had been completed a little ahead of schedule, there was one last spike to be hammered. We weren't that surprised to learn that the "golden spike" was to be hammered in Canterlot, and by Celestia herself at the start of the New Year.
We got front row seats to the ceremony, and thanks for our efforts the entire way. We were all bundled up in jackets and scarves; it looked like a single, long line of wool was the only thing standing between the ruler of the nation and her subject.
And then she did something nopony would ever forget.
The crowd was beginning to count down to midnight, whispering really. Still, it was noticeable.
She silenced the crowd with a raised hoof, and then raised her hammer with her magic. The tool was polished to a gleam, and I'm pretty sure it was made of something that definitely wasn't iron. The handle was encrusted with gems for Faust's sake! Anyway, she set the golden spike in place and began to bring her hammer down, only to stop about midway through.
She gently placed the hammer aside and looked to the crowd. I still remember her speech, word for word.
"My loyal subjects. While I am greatly honored to be the one to drive the last spike, finally bringing this historical project to a close, I must speak the truth. Even with all my gifts, I do not believe myself capable of completing this project in such a way. Furthermore, I firmly believe that I do not represent the endurance the constructors of the railway utilized in the face of uncertainty, defiance, and heartbreak. It is with great pride that I ask you, the builders of the Trans-Equestrian Railroad, to select one of your own for this task. However, please make haste. We do not have much time before the start of the new year."
What followed was absolute silence. There was no wind, no hoots of owls, or murmurs from the crowd. Then it happened.
"I believe Wayward here is the best choice!" It was Jack's voice. I think that was the first time he had ever spoken to the many people.
"I believe him worthy as well!" Swan supported Jack's decision, not that I was surprised. The two practically spent all of their free time together. Why wouldn't they agree on everything?
After that, every worker, all 1000+ of them, started murmuring among themselves. I heard my name a lot. Eventually, it was a continuous chant of just "Wayward Wayward Wayward!"
I was actually overtaken with emotion, shock, and similar feelings. They were chanting for a stranger! Surely I couldn't be the one to finish the railway!
And then I heard one last voice, Rook's. He shouted for silence. I've never heard him shout so loudly. He essentially roared.
"While I may not have known Wayward for as long as my other friends, I am confident enough to call him one of my best. He is the one to finish the railway!"
I don’t know why, but Rook’s approval snapped me out of my shock. I gulped, made my way out of the crowd and to where the princess was standing. She gave me a hammer, the one I myself had used all this time, and reset the spike. I thanked her majesty, reset the spike, and waited.
It was only a matter of time before the crowd started counting down again. It was only a few ponies at first, but then the voices merged together, forming this single, booming voice.
“Ten. Nine. Eight.”
I looked over my shoulder once. My friends were right there, nodding in approval.
“Seven. Six. Five.”
I raised the hammer, making sure that I wouldn’t miss.
“Four. Three. Two.”
I could’ve sworn that Celestia herself was counting down with us.
“ONE!”
The world slowed as I brought my hammer down. It connected like two magnets, and the spike went into the wood as though it were a hot knife through butter. I normally had to hit a spike 3 times before it was in securely. I was lucky to find that my 1 swing had done the job just fine.
I looked up, and there was confetti falling everywhere. Auld Lang Syne was being sung by the entire city! I looked around. With a single swing of a dirty old hammer, I had brought Equestria into a new era. Needless to say, the resulting parties were nothing short of amazing.
I can’t say that everything I did on the railroad was peaches and cream. Sometimes, the food was awful, other times, the jokes were ridiculously bad. None of us got as much sleep as we wanted, and more than a few of us got hurt along the way. I wish more than a few things had never happened during those 2 years. Yet, looking back on it all, I wouldn’t have done anything differently.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
We've made it through, but I can't decide if the cost outweighs the benefits. The Trunkline crew made it through the mountain range alright, but we lost more than a few good people in the process. The worst injured are still recovering, and those with "negligible damage" are doing what they can to help. Good on them.
It looks like the entire ordeal has taken a toll on all who were involved. Big Iron seems to be pushing everypony harder than before, especially the minority species. Some of the workers don't even seem fazed by what happened, just desensitized maybe? I worry for their state of mind more than their bodies.
Swan hasn't sung in a while, though she's still in high spirits. Jack has returned somewhat to his former self. It makes sense that any pegasus would have claustrophobia. He still performs his duties, but he always comes rushing back to Swan and Rook.
The big guy is the one I'm most worried for. I don't know when or how, but Rook must have stepped on an errant piece of gravel or something. He still pulls the train as well as before, but he's got a limp. It's small, barely noticeable, but it’s there.
We've bedded down for the night just outside of the tunnel. We haven't even laid the track here yet. We could all use a large helping of recuperation.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
We've made it to the base of Neighagara Falls. The crew is taking a long needed break. We're all recovering from recent events, but we've all grown stronger as a team. No more fights, no more death, no more setbacks.
The first thing we did when we reached the Falls' base was to send Princess Celestia a letter detailing everything that had occurred in recent weeks. We sugar-coated nothing, lied about nothing, and fully admitted to whatever actions considered unlawful by the common populace. We declared our current location and situation regarding supplies. All 80 of us signed our names, sent the parchment, and waited.
During that time, we replenished our food and water until we had enough for everypony twice over. There was no more rationing for some time. For a time, we were finally able to eat full meals and sleep soundly.
The crew was making final preparations to head out and continue laying track when the reply letter came. Even though they were just written words, they seemed like they were shouted by a god.
All the letter contained was two words. "Wait there."
And waited we did. I think it must've been a couple of days before we got an actual reply. I have the parchment message committed to memory.
Members of the Manehattan Trunkline, part of the Trans-Equestrian Railway construction effort.
Your previous message has been read countless times by both me and the royal court. While the events perpetrated by the stallion known as 'Big Iron' are heartbreaking to say the very least, we all agree that your response was appropriate and justifiable. Furthermore, we agree that your actions are not classifiable as criminal, as you risked your lives in order to save that of innocents. By the time you have received this letter, relief efforts have arrived at Hollow Shades, and a replenishment crew is en route to you. Good luck with the rest of your endeavor.
-Princess Celestia
As soon as we had all finished reading that letter, we saw the replenishment force over the horizon. They were all bright eyed, healthy, and ready to assist however necessary. There was a little celebration before we all got back to the job we had all signed up for.
We laid 10 miles of track today. The crew now numbers 150 good people. Nothing's going to hinder our efforts now.
Journal of A Railroad Builder
The construction of the bridge over Ghastly Gorge is progressing phenomenally, all thanks to one skittish pegasus.
The scout team made it through the forest unscathed and eventually reached the opposite end of where the rest of the crew was set. We established foundations on both sides, but it didn't take long for us to figure out that this construction was going to have some problems.
I'm not going to blame anything on the D.J.T crew right now, but had they shown up on time, we wouldn't have had the difficulty of trying to build a bridge in the middle of Eel mating season.
The shrieks of Eels looking for mates were bad enough, rocking what brittle foundations we had and giving everypony a bad headache. However, the shrieks paled in comparison to the fights. From what I've heard, male Quarry Eels sometimes pick the same female. Of course, the female wants the strongest male. So take a guess at how the males sort it out.
The quakes caused by the fights, while relatively light, force us to halt all construction efforts until the battles end. We had little time to continue before another fight began. How many Eels are in this damned gorge?
We couldn't let the Eels set us back; we had a schedule to keep! A lot of us took that message to heart, but Jack took it one step further.
I don't know how, probably a major adrenaline spike or two, but Jack took a single support beam on his shoulder and dove head-first into the gorge! He dodged fully grown, aggressive Eels and set the beams in places where they couldn't get to them! That wasn't the most amazing part though; he pulled the same thing of 10 or 12 times before returning to solid ground! We only needed 6 beams for the foundation, so he doubled the stability!
Needless to say that Mr. Skittish was congratulated when he got back safely. I also believe that it goes without saying that, if Swan's reaction to Jack's return is anything to go bye, they're a couple now. It doesn't take a genius to see that they're happy together. Good on him.
Construction of the bridge is in the final stages. We'll lay track over it in a couple of days. I don't think we'd be where we are now if it weren't for Jack of All Trades.
