In factory in China, nameless, faceless men and women work. Pressing buttons and pulling levers is almost all they do as work continues on the assembly line. Each action corresponds to a machine, a machine that took some of their friend’s jobs. Their efforts mean nothing to those above them, minus packs of six, sold to retailers at twenty five dollars, and sold at five, fifty seven individually to the consumer.

To the six being built though, each press, each pull, is met with a thank you. One gives them the stuffing that will allow them to breathe and be. The next stitches them up, so as to make sure this precious material never leaves the body and they may continue standing on their hooves. The one after that fastens patches onto their heads, allowing them to see.

The yellow one, on the edge, looks to her left and sees the floor. While in reality it is only a few feet, it looks like an endless chasm to her, and she moves right. This causes her to bump into the blue one beside her, who then falls back. Her rainbow mane becomes a blur as she races forward, not wanting to be lost in the process.

The next one, with a mouth that was just stitched into a smile, beams at the blue one, and comments on how she looked like a pretty blur. The blue one says it was nothing, already enjoying the thought of being a blur of color. Yeah, Rainbow Dash would definitely work as her title. These thoughts barely allow her to hear the yellow one apologize for scaring her, which she immediately denies. The pink one jokes about it being a lie, and gets threatened by the tough one about being squashed like a pie, which the pink mare admits sounds delicious to her.

The purple one beside them says nothing, but simply observes the others. She isn’t shy like the one on the end, and doesn’t flinch as mechanical arms come down. Instead, she smiles as she notes that two of her companions will be pegasi, and that they should be interesting to observe. A stray comment from the rainbow maned one gives the yellow her title, as almost all of them think her scared nature mixed with how she flutters her wings makes a great combination.

It occurred to the purple one that she did not know how, or when she may receive her title, or if it were to be flattering. She should do something to make herself stand out, make sure she didn’t have anything insulting, but never got a chance before being picked up by the next set of mechanical arms. This time, they fastened a horn to herself and the white mare beside her, before being placed back onto the belt.

The white mare giggled to herself as they were placed back onto the belt, before tapping on the purple doll’s horn, which sparkled from the flecks on it. She then gave the advice of Twilight Sparkle, due to the unicorn’s special horn, and the color of her mane, all of which made Twilight blush, especially as the other ponies agreed. She glared at all of them, not wanting such an odd title, as then she would never be able to just sneak away and read or research the world. So, she tried to insult the white mare, make her less credible, and accused her of having a horn that was a rarity. This news only delighted her, and she pranced in place as they came close to where they would get their last bits of stitching.

This prancing caught the stoic pony on the end by surprise though. This orange doll had been watching what was coming, only interested in the business that was at hand. She would have down time on store shelves and in people’s rooms, instead of giggling now. However, now she fell, having been knocked over by Rarity. Her soft form absorbed the impact, and she felt no pain, but despair filled her form. She would see none of those shelves now, and be forgotten, having left the birthing belt.

A strong hand wrapped itself around her form, and she was lifted up. For a moment, she looked into the brown eyes of an aging man. He was a custodian who had worked for the company so long that none of the managers were willing to fire him, even before they found out he could fix the machines. His hand gently ran through her felt pieces of mane, before he jogged ahead and placed her back onto the belt. Before the automated stitcher clouded her sight, she caught his name; Jack.

Coming out, she looked to her side, and saw a set of apples having been placed there. The others began questioning her as to what it was like, but she ignored them, instead wanting to honor that kind man’s memory by making her title Jack Apple. A stunned silence filled her companions as they were surely touched by her gesture, before they all said that Applejack sounded way better. She could have fought them to have him first, but decided against it. His name was within her title, and that’s what mattered.

The six began to talk, using the time to think of the future. Would they all be in a plain brown box, alone in plastic bags, or maybe even be contained in a large shipper with hundreds of their sisters. While most of it was idle chatter, rainbow made it very clear that she would not just be a shelf pony to some stupid department story. No, she was too awesome for Walmart, and the rest of them agreed that somewhere of better quality would be nice to go to. Of course, as they were packed into a brown box, thick cardboard walls separating them into individual cells, they could not know, but only be excited for what may come next.

And so, with one more lever pull, a man sent them to the trucks that would take them far away, none the wiser of the lives he just made. Next Chapter: Hitting the Shelf Estimated time remaining: 4 Minutes