Chapter 1 Control And Freedom
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Vitatopia

Chapter 1 Control And Freedom

CHAPTER 1 CONTROL AND FREEDOM

“To create the perfect society, one must begin the change from its roots.”

Andrei Vladimir

-Victory Suite Athena, Manehettan, Airstrip One; 4 April 2011-

"Who is 'G'?" he asked himself quietly.

With the creaking sounds of the aged and lightly mildew grown plywood floorboards followed his every steps, he wondered at fascination of the numerous occurrences that faced him in the fullest the whole day. Though ‘fascination’ was not the perfect way to describe his reaction towards these happenings but it will do for the time’s sake for him.

The audibles of the wooden floor stopped as he placed his front right hoof on the stairs. From the stairs upwards and the storeys it lead to, the creaks that followed him before would not continue. The time endured wooden floors were only limited to the lobby of the aged apartment.

He felt a shift in his senses as he trotted up the stairs. The cold, rusted and gritty surface of the staircase was uneven for his sense of touch compared to the smooth oak he trotted on before. The air surrounding him too had changed the slightest to a more tenser shade. Whatever abrupt or slight changes he felt, it was the same thing he had been through for the first decade of his working life in this building.

Climbing the stairs in a constant pace, he thought back of the whole ‘fascination’ that happened the hours before. It was merely a regular act by most of everyone at his working premise. Although it was a regular, today it seemed irregular. His eyes gazed on the wear out maroon painted sign on the wall by the stairs. A numerical three with fading edges. He was at the third floor. His apartment is on this level of the building. He looked at the hallway across his view. Five doors were laid down the hall with two laying on the left side while the rest were on the right. The parallel walls meet at the furthest end. Illumination in the hallway was quite poor as out of the lamps fixated, only four were functioning, though with a dim shine. One of the lighting overhead had been blinking at a faster rate than yesterday. It’s final glow will soon come by.

The stallion continued on walking down the hallway, thinking.Why does it had to happen today? Why hasn't it happened before? he thought with a loud inner monologue. The echoes of his inner voice were loud enough to drown any outside audibles as the blinking light bulb had just exploded while he did not react to it nor the fact his hooves were now wading through its glass shrapnels. As his legs kept walking, his mind wandered off from his reality and the walkings seem to move independently from his controls. Was it because they were few before? Was it because they were planning all of this? He kept on with his inner voice until his locomotion had stopped at the door of his place of dwelling. It being the last door down the now gloomily lit hallway.

A brass plaque in the shape of a ‘6’ was embedded on the wooden door. Although the door aged just as the rest of the building it was attached to, it lacked any signs of wear or fungal growth to emphasise its value of being treated with proper agents. His wandering mind had returned home for him to regained proper conscious. Consciousness just to continue on his inner ramblings on the current matter.

Trotting into his apartment, he was greeted suddenly by the thunderous sublime tune of ‘Equestria Tis For Thee’, in mid-play, being transmitted over the telescreen. The large monitor-esque device hung on the wall of the living room, facing the door he had entered. The telescreen was still broadcasting in full bloom since he left for work. All telescreen had been that way for mere years since they were first invented.

Telescreens were built for the sole purpose of providing the citizens of Equestria with the latest insights on current global affairs and other matters revolving the great Party of Equestria and the willingness of the HolySoc philosophy. Not a single of these live receivers should be turned off. Being in mind because they can’t be turned off no matter what unless it is destroyed for good. The closest one could get to lower the influence of these news distributing monitors is to lower the volumes. However, the lowest one can get is still loud enough to be heard around the house.

Apart from mass media, telescreens were also a one way surveillance device in which somewhere on the other side of this machine, an operator watches his every movement while the stallion is oblivious to them eavesdropping on every single moment of his. After all, after spending nearly thirty years under surveillance, it had become a crime not to be under watch for him. Sometimes, a telescreen may have an operator given the ability to communicate with the person under watch. However, just as the norm with telescreens, everything's a one way street that can’t be turn off.

The symphony of ‘Equestria Tis For Thee’ silenced as the anthem of the great nation ended progressively to make way for other important broadcasts. Time was approximately half-past seven. The evening news will take their place in the telescreen as always.

Looking around in his apartment, he saw nothing of any different since he left for work. He knew no one had entered his home while he was away but he kept on looking around as an obsessive habit. It was hypothesized by some medical experts that these frequent home sweeps were due to the subconscious residue of paranoia by every telescreen owners. The apartment itself was nothing more but a four walled room 6 meters in length by and by. The door he entered in from and the telescreen were on the walls facing themselves oppositely.

Most of the room lacked of windows or anything that brings in the outside world. However, the wall to the right of the living room is a contrast to what is present in his home. Comprising of a speakwrite machine, a datawrite on a wooden desk with the monitor in standby, a decent binary adder with a bundle of cables jutting out of its components along with some other equipments necessary for his task. Pulling the chair out from under the desk, he kept on thinking while he got on to his seating. At the same time, he eyed out on the large window behind the desk of his work station.

The window was large enough as it takes up half a wall of the apartment with a wide scale panorama of the city. With dusk arriving, the shadowy and blotchy light dotted skyline of the city amongst the dark twilight sky created an artistic vista upon a canvas that is the window to his apartment. With the breathtaking view looms over his datawrite machine like shadows in a sunny day, it appears as seems the machine controls the entire city with a single stroke of its keyboard. "Not unless you're livin' in Eudraconya. A single press of a button would do the trick." quickly responding to the thought of his datawrite controlling the city, Filly Dimstar remarked that such feat would be possible in the rival neighbour of Equestria.

Filly looked back to his datawrite and quickly remembers his previous intention. The ‘fascination’ was floating through his thought bubbles with the urge to ‘scratch’ it off his mind amplified by the minutes. Turning his datawrite machine on, he began to continue where he left off with his ‘fascination’. Enough of calling it a ‘fascination’! It’s not even that interesting... he thought angrily at himself though it was hypocritical against his true inner feelings. The monitor of the datawrite shone with a bright light as if life had entered its cold metal innards.

A series of directories appeared on the display on the screen. The topmost being ‘HOME’ followed by ‘NEWS’, ‘ARCHIVE’ and several others related to the datawrite’s functions. Dimstar punched a key into the datawrite’s keyboard causing the topmost directory to be highlighted with a faint glow.

He punched a few keys and selected the ‘ARCHIVE’ directory underneath. The Party is a an animal when it comes to archiving information. The datawrite is currently connected on a network to The Party’s entire document archives. Since he worked for The Party, Filly had authorize access to every one of these informations. Though he might be working as a lowly code decipher, Codelookers in NewNeigh, for the Outer Party or Outparty, everyone who contributed for the greatness of HolySoc had equal access to The Party’s database.

With over close to a few billion documents, both facsimiled and digital, since the formation of Equestria, this entire network served as the backbone for any Party member given the task of rewriting and updating articles to current affairs.

Opening the archives, Filly began browsing aimlessly for the article he had read earlier this morning. The source of the ‘fascination’ of his. Immediately, he saw a directory dated today. The Fourth of April to be exact. A series of documents appeared on the display. Each of them telling a different story each. One article would tell the chronicles of a war hero while another shed some light on the latest insights regarding the Protector System. Filly browsed the database to find the article of his designation. The article being nothing more but a typescript of today’s ‘Chrono’ magazine. There it was, a typescripted file lying next to a document under a title ‘Eudraconyan Pyroheads Burnt Down 4 Party Libraries Near The Borders’.

Executing the document, Filly continued reading the article to where he left off at work before a telescreen operator accused him for slacking. There it was, written in large black letterings

‘HATEGROUP INFLUENCE SPARKS SLANDERS. STRIKES FLOURISHED AT MINIPLENTY’

The name ‘HateGroup’ took Filly’s entire attention the moment he was looking through today’s ‘Chrono’ magazine during his working hours back at the Codedep at Ministry Of War or Minipax in NewNeigh. The organization had never taken such drastic actions before and not a single word from them was heard since their divergence from The Party supporting independent organization, LikeGroup.

He could not help but think the series of gun shootings he overheard coming from The Ministry Of Plenty, Miniplenty, yesterday were related to all of this. He continued reading the article at a faster pace saying out any important information.

“200 Outer Party members went on a series of strikes consisting of foodlookers and soylookers. Third strike this month. Fifteenth this year. Strikers demanded additional break time from the foodlookers usual 12 hours shift and contribution for effort. Riot broke out in the next two minutes once demands were decline from Inparty. Psycho and Sprinkler series protectors among several Thoughtpolice broke up riot. Shootout happened. 30 strikers found dead, 50 injured. 170 incarcerated to Miniluv. Sowers flocked over dead remains as usual. Possible 20% increase of output from remains. LikeGroup leader, Andrei Vladimir, promises lower strike percentage in the next pascal month.” Filly said to himself with every word his eyes gazed upon.

Though he had read the article twice for information's sake, he noticed the number of strikers differ than the article he read before. He remembered the previous article of the same kind mentioning 50 strikers while this new incarnation had an increased amount.

Could there was an oversight in the magazines publication or was it one of The Party’s tricks. Needless to say, he could not fight to find the true numbers behind that strike. At the very moment, the powerful slogan of The Party echoed through his head.Who controls the past controls the future, who controls the present controls the past.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead and temples, his fur of reddish pink swipe against his wild frizzy mane of a purple hue. Filly looked out of the window to looked again at the skyline of the city of Manehettan. Night. The day had came to an end. In the sky above he saw the two full moons, one of silvery white and one of mossy green, as it was now the height of the lunar cycle.

Funnily enough at the sight of the full moons, Filly Dimstar remembered a fable his father used to tell him when he was a foal; that during the days before HolySoc and The War, only one moon hung in the heavens above. It was merely a fable though. Not a single person, whether equine, griffin, draconian, cervid or even proles remembers the day before The Party and the existence of HolySoc. Two moons existed as they were since the dawn of this planet’s creation. It does if The Party is willing enough. If The Party wished for a single moon to shine, they would let it be. After all, The Party commands all.

Gazing slowly beneath the moons he saw what appears to be a gargantuan silhouette of a zeppelin growing larger by the seconds. The aircraft of topic could probably be the Bridleburg descending from the heavens with the moonlights of silver and green serving as its melancholy flight of stairs.

Looking at the zeppelin, Filly Dimstar thought back of the article, of the strike, of HateGroup, of The Ministry Of Plenty, of The Ministry Of War, of The Ministry Of Love, of The Ministry Of Peace, of The Ministry Of Magic, of the moons, of The Party and its Great Holiest Leader, Big Sister.

“Big Sister is watching you,” Filly silently said the prayers to himself as he saw the zeppelin gliding among the clouds. Ten-thirty was displayed on the telescreen. The evening documentaries will begin shortly.

"Who controls the past controls the future, who controls the present, controls the past." he said silently to himself, looking at the hovering zeppelin.

***

-Antlertic Ocean, Manehettan Coast; 4 April 2011-

The skies were silent and the surface free of waves and riptides. The bright shine of the full moons illuminate the briny wonders of the sea. The calming beautiful light reflects on the surface of the water. Moonlight and the vast sea, two things appraised for its mysterious beauty met together in the night. Creating a masterpiece to be gazed with envy by those who appreciate the wonders of nature.

Not high above the surface of the illuminated waters, a zeppelin flew. With a steady pace from the turbines that propels it, the dirigible broke through the clouds slowly as if it was a giant turtle gracefully swims in the skies of the Antlertic Ocean. The exterior of the zeppelin reflects the fading silver and lime green moonlight on its hide of metal and fabric. From a distance, it appears as if the zeppelin is surrounded by a shining white greenish aura, making the airship’s appearance resemble those of the belugas that reside in the seas below.

The entire gondola was pulchritudinously large, fitting for an airship of this size. The idea of housing several large chambers with multi-different uses each sounds far fetched as it seems. Unless ponies were talking about the legendary ‘LZ 192 Bridleburg’, then all heresy considering this atmospheric behemoth were to be considered illogical. This majestic vessel is stated by most of the public, even by a metaphorical standard, as a manifested destiny because it holds record for the largest equinemade aircraft. With a ballast half the size of a dam and the gondola was several building blocks large, the Bridleburg was named ‘SkyBuilding’ in NewNeigh. Showing the entire world what the Equestrians were capable of. And seemingly directly, an insult to the opposing rival nations of Unitasia and Eudraconya.

The zeppelin’s exterior is nothing compared to the inside contents. The artistic design appears something one would see from a Prench Art Nouveau exhibit. The cabins were aligned with a parallel position. Doorways connecting to the cabins lead the passengers to the airship’s chambers consisting of a ballroom for those longing for entertainment, the fancy cuisine restaurant for the hungry passengers, the engine room that drive the turbines, also conveniently and obviously located next to the captain’s private quarters, the cockpit which functions are obvious to anyone on board the floating vessel.

Much of the gondola’s walls and corners have the usual sight of telescreens and the ominous face of a certain pinkish white coated being. For the dirigible’s ownership under government asset, it was a must to have the familiar face of Big Sister hanging on the walls. Instead of those crude posters though, oil paintings were used to match up with the blimp’s luxury. The waxy sheen of the oil painted eyes on the portrait gave a feeling of paranoia for any passerby looking at it. The sense of paranoia was even further fueled by the majestic large sentences underneath in red lettering

‘BIG SISTER IS WATCHING YOU’

The ballroom itself was the largest section of the gondola. Perhaps easily described as large as a small hall building. The oval shaped chamber located at the gondola’s centre serve as the main interjunction allowing easy travel between cabins and other chambers. Laughter and music fill the atmosphere of the ballroom as ponies, zebras, donkeys, gazelles and alike spend quality time socializing among themselves. Making jokes, dancing to the jazz performed by the band on board or even going full on sugar like there’s no tomorrow.

In the furthest corner of the ballroom, alone sat a colt who just helped himself to dinner. It was not much of a meal, consisting of only a slice of carrot cake and a bowl of soup. But it’s still enough to rid the canine like growling from his stomach.

Without a word, he left a hefty sum of money as payment for the meal on the table followed by a friendly gesture to a nearby waiter. After the meal was paid, the colt walks out of the chamber to his cabin, humming to the tune that was being performed in the ballroom with every step. If he could recall the name, they were playing something called, It’s Only A Paper Moon.

“It’s a Barnum and Bailey world, just as phony as it can be..’ he murmured slowly to himself towards the melody of the song.

He was an Earth Pony with a light orange coat and a mane of blonde with streaks of beige. Wool weave sweater was he wearing, specially made for him by his mother. From what he could remember, it was a birthday gift. His cutie mark is a blank, invisible nothing. True for he still never earned his cutie mark. He knew that someday, he will discover his special talent and earn his mark. Engineering would be a suitable talent or would he end up counting numbers and rewriting old ‘Chrono’ magazines at the Ministries as his parents wished. A late bloomer was that all... or am I just not believing in myself fully yet? he thought, walking by a marble statuette of Her Holiest Big Sister on display.

‘If only that day came early’ he thought. Ivy GalaBlue was his name. His name, family and brief foalhood memories, those were the only thing he knew about his identity. He never knew his parents’ past life, a big chunk of his first twelve years living in this world or even anything else during the war. Those memories were probably forgotten after all those years in the war happening across Equestria. Trying to make it out alive takes full brunt of your mind into making you forget certain things on course. The only part of his life he remembered is that his foalhood was spent on his parent’s farm while they worked for The Party.

Ivy arrived at the door to his cabin hoping for a good night rest or any other leisure to kill time until this vessel lands. But before he could carry out those wishes, he heard something that took his attention. It was nothing but a couple of ponies from the nearby cabin talking. However, the subject of their conversation attracts Ivy’s attention and with curiosity, he tried to eavesdrop on the door. He could hear both of them clearly. Judging from the accents and the Bridleburg’s previous destination, these two were obviously Trottingham or Highland ponies.

“I’m tellin’ ya, the mare’s been babblin’ it ‘bout a month now. Drivin’ me head like crazy. Even me hoofsies are numb from all that junk she called work”

Ivy smiled, it was not ethical to overhead Party members talking. Even so, they might spit out some good stuff once in a blue moon.

“What’s all that horsepucky all about, huh?”

“Same stuff, mate. Workers on strike, rebellion, revolution. There’s no craik workin’ for those spoiled Inner Party members. It’s all work and no pay”

“Stop talking like that! What happens if there’re Think Police on board this giant ball of hot air? They’ll know you do thoughtcrime then it’s off to the happyhouse”

“WELL! What will you say if you had been doin’ horseapples for da whole week with not even a single hour o’ nap. Hay, not even a chance to go home and rest with me family!”

“Hate Week’s just round the corner. And ya know that with all the preparations it’s supposed to be hard work. Anyway, Victory Gin?”

“Nada, I don’t do booze. Anyway, it’s not ‘bout Hate Week’s preparation and all that. It’s all ‘bout that strikes poppin’ out here and there like wild ‘shrooms after a rain. Just a week ago we’ve lost seven percent of Party members! Party’s loosin’ numbers faster than we can make!”

“Pass the blame baton to that bastard, what’s his face? After all, he was responsible for everything! Especially the strikes!”

“Ya mean, Andrei Vladimir! Strikes, riots and whatevar matter The Party ain’t giving a word at, HE was supposed to manage it. If ‘e could not even take care of his woife, how in the blazes he’s gonna end these strikes and all! Better be if he’s just dead!”

“Well, it’s a good thing if he’s dead. But his little circle of followers are not. I say we... Am I just seein’ it or is there someone outside?”

Hearing those words, Ivy quickly ran for his cabin. It was sheer luck that those Party members did not saw him and the fact that his cabin is only a few doors away make up for his lack of speed.

Closing the door quickly, Ivy let a sigh of relief and trots for his bed. He took a glimpse of the outside world from the window next to him. The full moons can be seen clearly and the sounds of the ocean breeze were dominated by the ear numbing buzz of the zeppelin’s propellers.

A quick glance on his bed and that was enough to leave him gaze in empty space. He could not quite understand the words he heard from those stallions. True, he was neither a Party member nor a pony who took any interest in politics and whatnot. The fact that his parents worked for The Party did not helped it either. But there was just something about the world he lived in that made him wonder about the stuff happening among the politicians and leaders.

“Come on Ivie, no more eavesdropping. We have a long way ahead of tomorrow” He muttered to himself.

Ivy took a glance at a wall clock opposite from him. Thirty minutes until midnight. He pondered for a moment, muttering, “Happy birthday Ivie boy. Huhh, not much of a celebration ain’t it?”

Usually, he would spend the entirety of his birthdays with anyone he knows be it a friend or a relative. But tonight, he had to celebrate the anniversary of his physical existence by himself. It would be obvious from the fact that he just got home from a one week PartyFoal Influence Training at Great Bridletain in Airstrip Three. The training was nothing but a series of loyalty tests for every child of a Party member once they had reached an age of eighteen. There was no time to celebrate a birthday with the relatives. Though it would not be a crime to celebrate it with me, myself and I for once, he thought.

Bending over to his bed, Ivy pulled a sturdy and worn out suitcase from underneath. Opening it, he rummaged through the piles of laundry to find a gift box wrapped in a colourful ribbon with a note dangling down on a string. A gift from the training camps.

It was not a birthday gift to be precise. It was merely a souvenir given by one of the trainers back at the camps after she noticed Ivy GalaBlue’s supportment and willpower. “Or that’s just what she said. Maybe there’s another reason Comrade Selena gave this to me?” he asked himself while examining the gift box.

Ivy took a closer look at the dangled note, something was written on it in a dark blue ink;

Towards my shining sufficiently strong, serenity surplused, sinless, savvy Son of The Party. I give to you an affectionate admiring aspiration aiding ally for thy crusade. - Comrade Trainer Selena

The note was written with a strange linguistic slur to it. Then again, Trainer Selena stated she worked at ficdep over at The Ministry Of Truth. The writing style could probably be a habit of hers. Pulling the ribbon out to untie the box with his teeth, the colt thought back to what Selena told him earlier that day before board the Bridleburg. The unicorn mare was the strangest among the trainers.

Ivy blew the now untie ribbon off the box onto the ground and remembered what the mare said to him. The thought of the mare came the instantaneous moment he tried to open the gift box. Without realising, his lips subconsciously moved to his every thought.

“When I board the airship to get back home to my family, she said; Kid, you’re special, you were born to do great things!. You know what?” Ivy finished off his subconscious trans as he opened the box before continuing

“She was right!”

***

“Uhmmm, sir? We’re getting a sheer drop in the capacity of Hydrogen cell A”

“Say again?”

“Drop in capacity. Look! 60, 58, 54 and... Good gracious, sir! Hydrogen cell B just did the same! And so is C and... and one of the turbines went offline!”

“Do we have any maintenance workers up there? Check if to see there’s something out of the ordinary” The captain went to his telescreen and spoke into the microphone to the passengers on board. “Fillies and gentlecolts, this is Captain Jetstream Franklin, it seems we have a bit of a problem. Please remain calm and be seated and we’ll have this fixed in no time.”

Cumulus, quickly grabbing a radio, made contact with any maintenance workers in the gas reservoirs. But before he could say something *Booom!* The cockpit rocked as a large explosion occurred somewhere in the Bridleburg.

“Capta.....*zzzz*...fire...” A voice murmured with static came from the radio in Cumulus’ hoof. Cumulus wiped his forehead and spoke

“Are you okay up there?”

“Not...*zzzz*....Cells...*zzzz*...leak...sprunged...no! NO! NO!”

*BOOM*

Another explosion happened and this time the cells are starting to catch fire. Beside him, the captain had made contact with ground control through the telescreen.

“This is Captain Jetstream speaking. We are currently experiencing a HELL of a technical problem. Gas reserves are burning up. Turbines shutting on their own, FOR NO EXPLANATION! We are requesting assistance while we descend for an emergency landing on the water so we may....hello? Hello?! HELLO?! Ground control? GROUND CONTROL?! Do you reply!

“Gah, curses! Communications were cut off” Captain Jetstream slams the telescreen with his hoof, broken glass shrapnels pierce into his hoof but the thickness of the bone piece did not do any injury to him. However, he never realised the edgy pieces of glass sticking out of his hoof. Immediately, he turned away from the broken telescreen and back to the controls. The drop in hydrogen worries him most. More and more of the gas are being burned up.

“Sir! We are losing altitude really fast! Looks like we’ve lost cell A and C; there’s smoke coming into the cabins, and- don’t think we could make it slow enough for an emergency landing!”

“It’s not a question of ‘could’, kid! It’s a matter of ‘should’! Now! Redirect the turbines. See if we can make her slow enough!”

“But sir! The turbines! They’re shutting down one after another!”

“PULL UP! PULL UP! SEE IF THE WINGS COULD GLIDE US!”

“I can’t, sir! Wings are not responding! Controls jammed!”

“This is... isn’t right! How could the wings..! Just do anything!”

“I don’t know you’re the captain! THINK OF SOMETHING!”

Alas, the poor old stallion fell unconscious from falling on the floor as an explosion rocked most of the zeppelin, sparking flames in the gondola it had. The gases that hold this massive vessel to the sky hold a volatile, flammable property. Thus, the fire spread with sheer speed, engulfing fuel as a greedy foal in a candy store whose owner gives away treats for free.

***

-Manehettan, Airstrip One; 5 April 2011-

Another explosion, this time most of the Bridleburg’s enormous gas storage had been ignited. From afar, it appears as a giant fireball, hanging on to the sky, slowly making its way to the water for the final rest.

By any chances anyone were to witness the catastrophe, they will probably lose hope of anyone surviving such event. However, one would not see what it appears to be a lone equine, jumping into the seas below precisely before the final explosion of the Bridleburg.

And it would be a miracle if he lived to tell the tale.

END CHAPTER 1

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