My Little Xyloto

Apple Bloom glanced up from clicking together another battery unit.  She pretended to stare off into the distance, but in reality her eyes were locked squarely on Mylo.  She let her mind wander for the briefest of moments before reaching down and picking up a few more pieces of a magic battery.  Click, snap.  She set the newly assembled piece down and returned to staring at the pony clicking together parts of his own just down the row on the opposite side of the conveyor belt.

She once counted how many sections she clicked together in a day.  It was somewhere around four thousand.  Considering she got to stare at Mylo for approximately three seconds between attaching each component, that calculated out twelve thousand seconds, which was well over three hours.  And when she considered how many days she had been working at that blasted factory, it suddenly became quite clear why she was so desperately in love with him.

And it was all thanks to her big brother and his fancy mathematics.  She chuckled at herself, wondering how Big Macintosh was faring at the furnaces, melting down raw metals to make the very components she clicked together day after day after day.

If only unicorns were still around to make natural magic.  Or just to be around.  A warm tear sprung to Apple Bloom's eye, but she blinked it away before it affected her and snapped another two pieces together.

Snap.  Snap.  Click.  Click.  Stare.

Maybe it was his eyes.  He had the most strikingly ice-blue eyes, and not even the combined efforts of his and her masks could fully conceal them.  She often wondered what color his coat was, or his mane.  Did they complement his eyes?  Or make them pop from the darkness of his fur?  She shivered, but it went unnoticed among the constant quiver of the freezing ponies all around her.

Maybe it was his voice.  They had not spoken many times, but after so many years working so closely in the same factory, it was bound to happen occasionally.  He spoke with the dialect of the Canterlot elite, but that only made sense to Apple Bloom's own mind.  Nopony here would remember Canterlot, no more than they remembered Equestria as it was before the Major.

Maybe it was the way he walked, or the way his hooves swept over the conveyor belt so fluidly, or the way his head tilted to the side as he snapped one piece into another.  She could just imagine his little tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as his squinted those sky-blue eyes... no, not sky-blue.  That was hardly an appropriate term anymore, considering the constant greyness of the sky.

Then again, "blue" itself was no longer an appropriate term, or even a recognizable one.  She stole sad glances at the ponies seated nearest to her; how sad it was that they could not remember something so basic and beautiful as color.  Apple Bloom used to imagine that, one day, Rainbow Dash would burst through the factory doors and backflip fifty times around the inside of the enormous building.  The sheer spectrum she carried behind her would surely be enough to remind everypony of who they used to be and where they used to live.

That dream might have been more likely if anypony knew where Rainbow Dash was.

"Likely right next t'mah sister," Apple Bloom muttered, assembling another part, "and the rest o' the Elements, and the Princesses, and the instruments, and the paint brushes, and the pictures and the movies and the music and the--"

"You okay?"

She flinched and realized everypony around her was staring--including Mylo.

"I'm fine," she said, waving her hoof.  "Pardon me, I'm real sorry."

They all went back to work... except for him.  She dared to make eye contact, finding his eyes to be full of curiosity and, for a split second, interest... and then he looked away.

Apple Bloom cleared her throat and focused on her work.  It only took eight more pieces for her to resume her routine.  Click.  Snap.  Stare.

Another several hours passed, and finally the factory bell tolled throughout the building.  Every conveyor belt froze in its place, and everypony turned to follow their respective lines out the front door.  Apple Bloom kept her head down, shuffling along at the pace of molasses and consequently remembering her old home on the Acres.  Her mind was so enveloped in the glowing memory that she jumped as a hoof made contact with her shoulder.

A supervisor, covered in a slightly tighter jumpsuit, pulled the mare out of her line and slammed a mop into the crook of her foreleg.  "You've been selected to clean tonight."

Apple Bloom wilted.  "But I just mopped the whole place not three nights ago!"

"System's random," the supervisor said with a shrug.  "It's not unheard of to fall upon close shifts."

Grunting, Apple Bloom stood aside and watched the supervisor roam, hoofing white mops and black brooms and grey rags to a dozen other ponies.  When the majority of workers had exited the enormous building, the supervisor nodded to the chosen few scattered among the factory's various equipment, and they all got to work.

Most of the building was occupied by a single room wherein the workers assembled newly made battery parts.  It was in another factory that the batteries were charged, but Apple Bloom would rather not be involved with that.  She found the process rather horrifying, and though her job was dull, it kept her mind off darker things of the present... as well as brighter things of the past.

She told herself she could remember the days before the Major's regime.  In truth, there were only bits and pieces lingering in her mind.  She remembered the trees, with their bright green leaves and shiny red apples.  She remembered the big, blue sky and the snow white clouds.  Though the details were fuzzy, she remembered her family and how much they had loved each other.  In the few moments they had together, Big Macintosh would always confirm that memory.

That was about it.  But at least she could remember something, and at least it involved color.

The mop with which she was expected to clean the entire floor was rather hard to hold.  Her mask prevented her from using her mouth in a very helpful way, and her tail was scrunched up against her leg inside the dreadful jumpsuit.  Having been assigned to mop more often than she thought fair, Apple Bloom had eventually developed a system that involved standing on her hind legs swiveling the instrument back and forth between her forehooves.

Instrument... there's another thing she remembered.  Music.  There was no music in Heaven, nor anything with which to make it.  She didn't imagine it was missed, as few other ponies--if any--could even remember the sound, but few other ponies--if any--had known Pinkie Pie.  Apple Bloom often brightened herself up by rehearsing a jovial song in her mind.  She dared not sing it aloud, having seen a pony cast out of Heaven for whistling.

Her mind was often occupied with one tune or another, as it was while she mopped aisle after aisle between the dormant conveyor belts littered with unconnected parts, balancing on her hind legs like some circus creature.  Her task led her behind a tall machine that hid her from the supervisor.  Quietly, she took the opportunity to take a break, leaning onto her mop and letting the sweat dry under her jumpsuit.  Taking long, deep breaths, Apple Bloom suddenly felt her eyelids drooping.  She shook herself into alertness, glancing about for signs of any watching pony.  As luck would have it, the machine hid her from all angles.  Leaning the mop against the metal back of the machine and dropping her head close to the ground, Apple Bloom decided to catch a few winks before she had to finish the entire factory.

She fell asleep faster than she had expected, and dreamed of paradise.

***

**M**

**X**

***

The streets are paved with gold.  They must be, for all the color and joy that explodes in every corner of this city.  A great building stands at its center, but it is not so mechanical as the Alicorn.  It has a roof and is draped with canvas, carved with decorative symbols and upholstered with wooden beams.  The homes and businesses bloom from this center like a life-colored rose.

How magnificent are the trees, the bushes, growing so naturally, glowing so green!  How marvelous are the flowers along the road and in the gardens beside the homes!  Oh, and the homes, so quaint, so charming.  They breed the most delightsome ponies of every sort.  Earth ponies chat with their hovering pegasi friends.  None of them are wearing jumpsuits, or any clothes at all.  Everypony shows off the brilliance of their coats, the style of their manes, the sparkle in their eyes!

Look how they walk and talk with one another, so freely, so honest!  There are no secrets here, there are only friendships.  Questions are not accusatory, but conversations:  Where are you planning to eat this afternoon?  Who should we invite to the party?  What do you sell, good sir, and for what price?

There is so much color.  It overflows from every object, giving hues to the laughter, the *music, the love that pulses through the air and embraces all who choose to feel it.  Nopony cries without feeling comfort, nopony walks the streets alone.  Nopony fears or peeks around corners or searches for glimmers of hope, for hope is all around them.  Hope does not need to exist inside them, because it lives and breathes in everything they see.*

A butterfly floats past me, a green one with beautifully modest markings.  I watch it flap a few times in front of my snout before continuing on its lazy way, caring not, worrying not, enjoying its existence of the purest simplicity.  It lands in the center of the road and moves its wings slowly up and down.  Perhaps it is wondering where it shall go next, as if it had the mind to wonder about anything at all.

Then a cart drives by, pulled by a dutiful pony, and crushes the butterfly under its wheel.  I sigh and watch as Ponyville disappears around me, breaking into tiny pieces and disappearing into oblivion.

I wanted to live here forever.  I expected this world, but it flew away from my reach... so I run here in my sleep, to dream of Paradise.

***

**M**

**X**

***

The mop fell from its angle and clattered on the ground, startling Apple Bloom awake.  She picked it up and quickly resumed her mopping before drawing any unwanted attention.  Though her dreaming went unnoticed by the supervisor, underneath her mask her silent teardrops flowed like waterfalls.