Aftersound

by Flutterfinar

First published 17th of March, 2018

After an accident involving Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash, a confused mare wakes up in an Equestria she doesn't recognize. Set on finding out what happened after the failed experiment, she plunges herself into the grim streets of Canterlot.

Veins and hearts made of plastic and steel
Only blind reflexes no emotions to feel
She is an echo from the past who no longer belongs
To this twisted city slowly dying in a grasp of icy thorns
Only zeros and ones filling her head
In this metal world of never ending dread
Once again this mare has to find the way
To make this all ok

An accident involving Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle occurs during the test of an ambitious project, one that was supposed to change fate of Equestria.

The mare who wakes after the accident can neither recognize herself, nor the place she woke in, her mind and body feeling out of place, memories and senses all distorted.

She finds out that Equestria is not the same as she remembers, and she doesn't know if she has any place in this twisted and grim world.
Set on finding out what happened after the failed experiment, she plunges herself into the unwelcoming streets of the last city in Equestria, only to discover the horrible reality of how far ponykind has fallen and what nightmarish truths stand behind it.

Additional tags: cyberpunk, dystopia.

WARNING: THE COMMENT SECTION MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

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[This story is written in close collaboration with my friend Geka, without whom it wouldn't be possible]
[Editing team: IAmApe, Jay Tarrant, Mike Meiers, DuvetofReason, FairySlayer, QU4DZILLA, Damajics and Steel Resolve]
[Cover art by: Geka]

Prologue

Author's Notes:

Before you start reading this story, there is a bit of a warning about the first four chapters. They can be… not particularly good in terms of grammar and text quality. I’m adding this warning two years after I started writing Aftersound and over that time I have grown as an author and my knowledge of English (which is not my native language) has improved.

I can see now that, well, I need to return to where it all began and take a good look at my work. It is surely going to happen, but for now I want you to begin reading this story with a knowledge that some of the glaring flaws you are surely to encounter will appear less frequently and the quality of the text will improve considerably as the story progresses.

"Entry log number 52-47/5 from April 5, 8^th year of the 5th Era. By Twilight Sparkle, Chief Scientist of the Royal Canterlot Research Centre. Today I'm going to supervise a test of automated combat body armor, the first ever in Equestrian history. Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Special Air Forces, will serve as the test pilot. Now, I'm going to do a double check of the armor suit and the testing program."

I yawned widely after those words and completely lost my train of thought. How long did I sleep last night? Three hours? Four at most? I need some coffee.

I turned off the recording enchantment on the crystal, placing it back on the table. I rose from my chair, looking around I realized how messy my office had become in all these months while I was working on the cyber armor project. I hated it being so disorganized, but I simply didn't have even a single minute to spare. And the origins of this chaos were actually a mystery, considering the fact that the only thing I had been doing in this room was getting a few hours of sleep every now and then. I stretched my numb limbs, the sleeping cot wasn't very comfortable, probably because it was supposed to be a temporary solution but had eventually become the only place I slept everyday aside from tables and chairs in labs. Many of our research team, including myself, had to stay in this facility day in and day out for weeks in order to finish our project as soon as possible. It was actually rather extreme measure, the Royal Canterlot Research Centre was only on the opposite side of Diamond Point Mountain, across from Canterlot and only an hour of flight in a cart at most. These days though a whole hour was an invaluable amount of time we couldn't afford.

With a deep sigh I glanced at the box containing the enchanted gems, neatly arranged in rows. I have had to rely on them for the last couple of years, since Spike left for the front-line. Without my number one assistant I could have easily lost track of the many projects that the research centre was working on, if not for these crystals. Enchanted with an old yet simple recording spell, they are able store hours of voice recordings and it had become more convenient than using scrolls.

I shivered. The RCRC was built in the foothills of the mountain in a hurry and didn't have a properly working central heating system. The fact that most of the fuel resources the country had to offer were used for the war effort wasn't helping the situation either, so it was rather chilly inside on this early spring morning. I definitely need some coffee. With that thought I put on my lab coat and saddlebag, took my empty cup, a casket of gems and started to slowly walk towards the main Cybernetics lab.

The Royal Canterlot Research Centre was absolutely silent. It was rather early in the morning and after putting the finishing touches on the cyber armor last night, most of the team was probably trying to catch up on some sleep anyway. So, I lazily trudged through empty and cold halls with my coffee-stained mug in my magical grip to my ultimate destination: The Coffee Machine. Our blessed savior, the holy fountain of black and bittersweet drink, which granted us the energy we always so desperately needed to work through a constant lack of sleep. Bless Rarity for convincing the nobles to finally establish trade routes with Zebrica, resulting in a large influx of imported goods, including coffee beans, amongst other things. After we finish all the tests and are ready to mass-produce these cyber armors, I should probably visit her. When was the last time I saw her? Or the other girls? Or Spike? Or even my parents?

Well, at least today I have an opportunity to see Rainbow Dash, she volunteered as tester just as soon as she heard the initial ideas for this project. It was hard to say, was it her genuine fascination with a concept of flying cyber armor, or desperate hope for an advantage that will help to put an end to the war, maybe both?

Finally, the familiar door with a slightly discolored wooden plaque reading "Cybernetics Lab" appeared before me. I started fumbling with countless gem keycards. We used enchanted gems everywhere these days. It's not like we didn't enchant crystals before, it's actually one of the oldest arcane crafting practices with a very rich history. But since we had learned how to grow our own specialized crystals from Crystal Empire refugees a few years ago, we were able to put much more complex and intricate enchantments on those gems than we were ever capable of.

Yes, here it was. I slid my bright pink and cyan keycard into the door lock with practiced motion; with a quiet click the door opened. I flicked on the light switch and looked around, the lab looked pretty much the same as I had left it a few hours ago: a big room full of furniture cluttered with equipment, gems and spare parts of various sizes, along with assorted stationeries and blueprints. It was a horrible mess everywhere, except for one place. There, in the middle of the room on small podium, stood the final product of sleepless nights and countless days of striving without a moment's rest.

The Automated Armored Full Body Combat Suit. The pinnacle of arcane and mechanical technological progress, a creation surpassing anything before in its complexity. Dozens of ponies had worked so hard to create an armor to protect and enhance the combat abilities of its wearer like nothing before. Plates of hardened steel alloy, imbued with enchanted silver runes that were supposed to, theoretically, withstand even the most vicious of spells from Sombra’s warlocks or even a direct strike from a crystal blade. Under these plates laid an intricate network of hydraulic circuits, made to significantly enhance the raw physical strength of the pony inside that armor. And the last part, which Dash liked the most, resting between two folded steel wings, was the reaction turbine fueled by a huge enchanted gem. The armor looked intimidating and foreboding in the laboratory's dim lighting, with its long conical helmet, reminiscent of a dragon's head, and large plates of darkened steel covered in nearly invisible shimmering arcane writings.

At last I stopped admiring the armored suit, finished walking to the coffee machine and turned its power gem on with flicker of magic – it would take some time to brew, so I leaned on the nearest table and started to think.

Pegasi were already the most important part of the Equestrian Army; something that Sombra didn't have even with all his warlocks, spells and griffon mercenaries. Equestrian ponies always had an advantage in air. Now, with these armor suits, they would be able to finally put an end to this war. All we needed is for this prototype to successfully pass the trials today. It wasn't a complicated testing program, really, all that Dash had to do was to perform some aerial testing and a simple battle simulation, nothing risky or extraordinary.

With a resounding ring the coffee machine announced it had finished its work, so I poured myself a cup full of the steaming brew. Not wanting to risk spilling my drink all over the suit, I decided to just sit down and drink it before the last double check. I started thinking about the cyber armor again and how important it actually was. Most of the newspapers' reports about the War had been rather optimistic, but I knew better. Letters from Shining Armor and Spike were much more concerning. The War had already been going on for far too long, and the siege of the Crystal Empire can't last forever. According to my brother's words, if they don't end it soon, they will be forced to withdraw and then Sombra is going to strike back hard. Very hard.

With that unpleasant thought I put my half-finished cup of coffee on the table and started moving towards the cyber suit. But after only a few steps I heard a loud knocking on the door.

"Yes? Who is it? Come in, didn't you know that the door is open?" I yelled from the middle of the room.

The door opened half-way and an unfamiliar unicorn in a lab coat shoved himself halfway through. He was probably one of new lab assistants from some other department. It was impossible to keep track of all the ponies in the facility.

"Captain Rainbow Dash has arrived and is already waiting for you on the testing grounds," The lab-coated pony said in monotone while still holding the door half open.

I instantly perked up and smiled upon hearing that.

"Tell her I'll be there soon, I just need to pick up some things." I turned to the table and with one mighty swig emptied rest of the cup. Before going to the testing grounds I decided to take some blueprints and calculations to show Dash. Oh, and of course, the testing program, Rainbow hadn't had an opportunity to see it yet. I put the papers in my saddlebag and ran out of the laboratory.

The Royal Canterlot Research Centre testing grounds weren't anything outstanding, a few shooting ranges for ballistic weapons and magic spells, a few more open flat grounds for other various tests, and the section recently constructed specifically for our project: a flight strip with a viewing stand. The area around the stand was already starting to swarm with research team members preparing everything for the testing.

The weather couldn't be more perfect for aerial testing. There were enough clouds to shroud Her Sun, but not too many, so it was still bright enough to see clearly for miles. The air was still with no wind whatsoever and it obviously wasn't going to rain. I realized, suddenly, that this was the first time I had been outside in at least two months. I hadn't seen sunlight for so long, being bathed only in the dead, cold light of luminescent lamps. Looking into the distance, I saw a silver canvas of clouds being punctured by a litany of golden sunrays. Sun in the sky meant that Princess Luna was still somewhere out there, still raising both of the celestial bodies. Thinking of her, I tried to remember the last time I saw her, but failed utterly. The last time I had heard about her was from Rarity, and it was even before the work on the project had even started. That time Luna just replenished her supplies, took another detachment of The Night Guard and settled back to The Badlands to continue her crusade in search of Chrysalis. I couldn't blame her, not after what happened, after what she had done.

I looked at Her Sun for the last time and brushed my tears away, I still had a lot of work ahead of me.

Looking over the testing grounds I instantly noticed Rainbow sitting on the furthest edge of the air strip. It wasn't hard, even in a military uniform and with her mane cut short, she was still an explosion of color on that already perfect morning. I practically began galloping to her, but she didn't seem to notice me. Then I approached her more slowly and looked carefully.

She was sitting a bit crookedly, trying not to put any weight on her bandaged hind leg. Her face was dirty with soot and she had some fresh scars and burn marks on it. She looked incredibly tired, her slightly red eyes were adorned with deep dark blue circles, those too familiar symptoms caused by constant lack of sleep. A distant, yet burning with determination look, was aimed to the north, somewhere over the mountains. Suddenly, she turned her head:

"Hi, Twilight," She said in a raspy yet unexpectedly jovial voice.

"Hi, Rainbow," I answered with a smile.

Upon seeing my expression, she answered with a smile of her own and leaned in to give me a hug, which I warmly returned.

"Pinkie says hi," Dash whispered in my ear.

"How's she doing? How are you all doing?" I asked, breaking the hug and sitting beside Rainbow.

"I thought you’d have read the reports."

"Of course I have read them, and I get my share of information from Shining and Spike’s letters. But you are on the front-line. It's different."

"Yeah. It's totally different." With that Rainbow looked over her shoulder to the north again. "We can't wage this war forever, Twi. If we don't win this year, Sombra will start pushing back and we won't have the strength left to stop him."

“That’s exactly what Shining was saying," I said. "But I wanted to know how the ponies themselves doing. And Pinkie? Or Spike?"

"Tired," she simply began, "some of them haven't been home for years." I shuddered at those words. I had been complaining about being confined to my lab for only a few months. I couldn't imagine how it was to be stuck on a battlefield for years.

"Pinkie, Spike and I are all from different divisions, we seldom meet each other. At least Pinkie has her sisters. But I know that they are still alive," said Dash, her face hardening. "Not everyone has such luck."

We sat silently for a while after that grim conclusion. In the distance I saw mechanics bringing out the prototype and more and more ponies in lab coats coming out of the building.

"Well, we should get started." I rose to my hooves and started walking towards the stand on the air strip. "Follow me. My team will probably finish the preparations soon."

"I wasn't expecting the final model to be so big and bulky," muttered Rainbow Dash, already in the exoskeleton of the armored suit, her body invisible under the thick net of intertwining tubes and wires converging on the joints of her metal clad limbs and finely cut gemstones. Mechanics started to attach metal plates to their designated mountings on the suit base, securing them with stout bolts. "The models I helped you to test before weren't so large."

"Yes, but the hydraulics and crystals are fragile and we decided to make it more protected," I explained. "Also, we decided to make it impermeable after reports about some of Sombra's spells."

"Yeah, I remember that nasty stuff." Rainbow visibly shuddered. "So, you had mentioned something about that mouth com-thingy in your testing program, but I didn't understand anything. It has too many egghead words."

"Moondancer and I created a special spell, it's called a 'communication enchantment'," I answered with a glare, and then continued with enthusiasm. "It's basically a simple arcane voice imprinting enchantment, Vox Vestigium, combined with a sound recording enchantment, Sonus Minuat, of a very short duration and made to continuously jump with a modification of localized Salio Arcanis between a pair of linked crystals via natural magical leylines and..."

"Uhhh," interrupted Rainbow. "In case you forgot, I'm not an unicorn, Twi."

"Ugh! Fine!" I exploded. "You just need to start talking and we will hear you at the stand."

“Alright." Dash continued as if nothing happened while mechanics finished assembling the body parts of the armor together before moving to her head, preparing the oblong conical helmet to be put on. "What do I need this mask for?"

"It's an oxygen mask. You will need it to breath in the suit. It's tightly sealed, remember?"

"Ah, right," Answered Rainbow with a nod, just as the mask was put over her muzzle.

"I'm going to the stand to check out the recording machinery and the communication crystal."

Dash silently nodded. With that and I hastily walked to the stand.

There I saw a pony I didn’t expect to see today – our very own Leading Scientist of Cybernetics Division.

"Hi, Moondancer, I thought you were going to sleep through everything," I called while approaching the stand. I wasn't trying to accuse her of being a sleepyhead, but I knew that last night was the third in a row for her without even a wink of sleep.

"Pfff, are you kidding?" she scoffed at me. "I didn't spend the last few months working my horn off only to miss the main event."

"Cheerful as always," I retort with a smile. "Well, I'm going to test out our communication crystals. Do you want to join?"

"Com-gems? Nah, they work just fine. The guys from my team tested them yesterday. I better go and check in with the photographers, though. They need to know that your friend is going to be faster than anything they've seen before." With that, she departed to a group of ponies with cameras further away, behind the stand.

"Com-gems? Huh, that's actually not nearly as much of a mouthful," I muttered under my breath, while putting communica... "Com-gem" on the stand’s pedestal. With a flicker of my magic I activated it and looked at Rainbow Dash. She was standing still in her armor, waiting for the crystals inside to power up. With another flicker of magic, I cast a voice amplifying spell on myself.

"Turn the enchantments on and leave the flight strip. I repeat, everypony, leave the flight strip after the last enchantment is activated. We are starting."

But first things first, I need to record everything, so I pulled the box of recording gems from my saddlebag, took out one of the crystals and turned on the enchantment.

"Entry log number 12-31/6 from April 5, 8th year of the 5th Era. By Twilight Sparkle, Chief Scientist of the Royal Canterlot Research Centre. We are going to start the testing of The Automated Armored Full Body Combat Suit, with Captain of the Special Air Forces Rainbow Dash."

All of sudden the sounds of breathing permeated my ears, meaning Rainbow’s com-gem fired up. I placed my recording gem on the stand.

"Rainbow, can you hear me?" I said in the direction of my com-gem.

"Yeah, a little bit too loud and there is a strange crackle." Came out a bit too loud answer. I covered the com-gem with one hoof, turned off the amplifier, took one step from the stand and shouted in Moondancer's direction.

"Moonie, Dash says that the gem is a bit too loud and it has some intrusive noises."

"It is supposed to be loud, we discovered yesterday that the enchantment loses its power over a distance. We will fix it next time. And the sound was clear. I dunno what's wrong with it now – maybe some overlapping," she yelled back at me, then she added in a cranky voice, "And don't call me that in a public!"

I returned back to the stand. I checked for anything that was out of place that could cause interference, but everything looked fine.

"Dash, Moondancer says that it will become less loud after you take off, and the crackle can be overlapping magic fields." I thought for a moment. "I don't think this is going to affect the cyber suit, though. Its enchantments are protected by arcanium runes."

"So if everything is fine can I take off then?" asked Rainbow eagerly. "I'm tired of sitting in one place already!"

"Yes, on the count of ten."

I turned the amplifier on again and made the same announcement as earlier, despite Dash already being the only one on the flight strip.

"Everypony must immediately leave the flight strip, we are starting the test on the count of ten! I repeat, everypony leave the flight strip!"

This is it. I took a deep breath and started to count.

"Ten."

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

"Five."

"Four."

"Thr..."

Suddenly Rainbow rocketed up into the sky in a cloud of smoke and with a resounding roar from the turbine.

"Sorry boss," chuckled Dash. "Couldn't hold on any longer."

"Ugh." I slapped my hoof against my forehead in frustration. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah all's fine, your voice is not so loud anymore, but, uh, the crackling is a bit louder now." Came her response. It started to bother me, actually. Where could this crackling be coming from? But it didn't seem to be a serious problem, maybe something was off with the com-gems. After all it was the first working prototype, and we hadn't been able to focus on it very much.

I raised my head and searched the skies for the flying silhouette. Rainbow had gained a lot of altitude already, so she was just under the clouds, doing the aerial maneuvers we'd included in the testing program at her insistence; she said that they're some basic moves her squad had been using all the time. Or maybe she just chose them to show off, like old times.

Keeping my friend's dashing figure in my sight, I began to think about the time before the war, and how that last three and half years had felt like an eternity, as if everything before the war with Sombra happened in another life. After the war, I will probably retire, I thought. Moondancer is going to do even better than me, I continued to muse. She’s already been showing incredible talent working with biomechanics, her prototypes and concepts being astounding, and showing endless potential.

But would I be able to return to my old life? The Government was still in disarray, especially with Luna being absent for months. Maybe Cadence will become the ruling princess after we free her from Sombra’s captivity... It was a grim reminder of how much was at stake in that accursed war. This trial had to be successful: failure wasn't an option.

"Hey, Twi," Rainbows concerned voice interrupted my thoughts. "The crackling has gotten louder, I think it's coming from the turbine."

"What!? Are you sure?" I asked and started to squint at the dark silhouette in the sky, but she was way too far to see the details.

"Yes, it's sure becoming louder, and it's not from the com-gem. It's coming from somewhere behind my helmet."

While she was talking I pulled out a pair of binoculars from one of the shelves inside the stand and aimed them at her. To my horror I saw that the huge power gem embedded in the turbine was sparkling and smoking.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" I started to panic. "Dash listen to me!" I looked up in the sky and saw her already rapidly losing altitude and plummeting towards the flight strip. At this point I didn't need binoculars to see that something was off. "Dash, something is wrong, you need to land right now! Can you hear me? You need to..."

But before I could finish my sentence, I saw the turbine of the smoking armor explode in a brilliant wave of magic and a shower of sparks.

And then.

Nothing.

Chapter 1 – The magical voice

It was so nice to finally get some sleep, to no longer feel tired, hungry, or cold. Being confined to the soothing shadows of Luna's Dream Realm, I felt absolutely nothing. But at the same time, I realized it wasn't a dream. I couldn't tell if it was my total lack of senses of reality around me, or just an absence of reality itself. "Is reality defined by our senses alone? Does the world go beyond our limited perception? What are we are supposed to rely on to know what is real and what is not?" Such formless thoughts were freely flowing through my mind, slipping from my grasp and vanishing in the endless void around me as soon as I tried to concentrate on them. It was a very confusing state of existence, and yet I couldn't care less about it. I didn't know how much time had passed, it could be the mere blink of an eye or eons for that matter. Suddenly, glowing words started to appear in the blackness of my vision, further driving me into a state of confusion.

/// Consciousness is online ///

>Booting sequence is complete

>Starting diagnostics...

>WARNING! Unidentified components detected. Please contact the TCE Equinoid Support Station for more information.

>WARNING! Critical levels of magical contamination in memory crystals. Please contact the TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible. Remember: Negligence of annual magical decontamination for crystals is considered a criminal offense.

>WARNING! Leakage in crystal cooling system detected. The system is functioning at 76.8% efficiency. Please contact the TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible.

And then, my eyes opened; but my vision was completely blurred. Wait, I didn't intend to do it, they opened by themselves. This is weird. Confused, I tried blinking my eyes, but nothing happened. All of a sudden, with soft clicks in my head, my surroundings began to come into focus. Aha, seems like I regained hearing as well, though it was hard to say if it was a reverberating sound inside my head or my actual ears.

With my vision still blurred, I tried to test my hearing again, along with my other senses. Overall, I felt very weird, as if I was out of place, my whole being trying clumsily to coexist with my body. It was like I just had woken up after one of Pinkie Pie's famous nights, but this time it was ten times worse.

So, still being half-blind and half-conscious, I tried to listen to the world around me. The following result was positive, but unremarkable: besides a faint irregular hum in the distance, I heard nothing else. There was absolutely no taste in my mouth, which meant that it actually wasn't a typical morning after one of Pinkie's parties. Come to think of it, I couldn't smell anything at all either. Weird.

Finally, with the last click inside my head, I was able to clearly see my surroundings. Apparently, I had been lying on my side, most probably on the floor. Though I couldn't feel my limbs or the surface under me, I had a feeling of gravity and my position in space. It was all so confusing, to have only half of my senses. I tried to look around, only to discover that I couldn't turn my eyeballs and had to turn my head instead; this didn’t help with my rising confusion.

I didn’t recognize this place around me. I found myself in a barely lit, cramped room. The floor was cluttered with various tools and unfamiliar pieces of machinery. A large window without glass, looking more like a hole torn in the wall and a few small holes in the ceiling, were the only sources of light. Judging by the darkness and fading soft glow outside, it was either just before dawn or right after sunset. This place distantly reminded me of the Cybernetics labs from RCRC, but it was much more of a mess and in far worse condition.

All the flat surfaces were covered with various containers full of spare parts, most of them looking like mangled pony limbs, their twisted, unnatural metal bones poking out of the countless boxes or hanging from the shelves and walls. It gave the room a very creepy and unsettling atmosphere, making this place look like something between a mortuary, a toymaker’s shop and the mechanic’s workstation from one of my labs.

Sliding my gaze, I discovered an even more morbid and eerie sight. On the workbench, which dominated most of the room, lay the remains of a whole metallic pony skeleton. Its head was torn apart and lying next to some unfamiliar tools. Besides the metal pony parts, the room was filled to the brim with skeins of wire, bundles of tubes, piles of screws and nuts, heaps of scrap metal lying everywhere and strange devices resting in the corners of the room. And absolutely everything in this room, from the floor to the perforated ceiling, was covered in a thick layer of rust, clearly visible even in the dim light.

Unsteadily, I tried to get on my hooves, which wasn't easy because I couldn’t feel my legs or the floor under them. My numb limbs felt both heavy and very light, because I could move them swiftly without any effort but I was as uncoordinated as a newborn foal at the same time. The fact that it also felt like I was slipping on some oily liquid underneath me didn't help either. After a few failed attempts, I finally managed to sit still on my rump, even if I was still slightly wobbling. On the positive side, I still didn't feel anything, so it didn't hurt each time I fell. But on the not-so-bright side, considering the loud thudding noises, my body had to be bruised by now and it probably would hurt later. I just couldn't force myself to care about that, all my thoughts were still fuzzy and my head filled with a thick fog.

Suddenly a few confusing lines of text appeared again in my field of vision as if they were printed on the surface of my eyes:

>WARNING! Dangerous level of leakage in crystal cooling system detected. System functions at 20.0% efficiency. Please visit the TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible.

What... I sat swaying slightly, little by little my mind started to clear up from the thick fog of confusion, leading me to feel more concerned about the situation I was in. With every passing moment I was realizing more and more that something was wrong. I needed to think. I tried to take a deep breath to gather myself only to find out that... I couldn't breathe… What? I couldn’t? W-WHY COULDN’T I BREATHE!?

Shocked, I tried in vain to feel my lungs again and each time I failed. Suddenly it dawned on me: since I had woken up I hadn't taken a single breath. I hadn't blinked even once and my heart had stood still all that time. Partially snapping out of my half-conscious state, I began to panic. If I could hyperventilate, I would. I needed to get out of there, to seek help. Something was definitely wrong.

Shaking, I looked around again and noticed a gap in one of the walls. I bolted for it and halfway there I tried to push through with my magic, only to be thrown further down into this nightmarish surreal situation. My magic! I couldn’t cast magic! With unexpected inertia from my motion, I slammed head first into a wide crevice in the wall and tumbled outside of the building. Turns out it was a door. The gap widened with a mournful creaking sound by my charge almost without any resistance.

As my body went past the threshold of the door, it fell to the ground heavily. I desperately tried to get to my hooves, but simply couldn't; my senseless limbs refused to obey me. I needed to stop panicking. I wasn't breathing or blinking, and my heart wasn't beating, yet I was alive and I was probably going to stay that way. It felt weird... but didn't hurt. I didn't know where I was, and I didn't have my magic. All in all, it was very far from a comfortable situation, but that didn't mean it wasn't solvable. I needed to calm down, stand up on my hooves and find somepony who could help me.

The accursed confusing glowing letters once again blocked my vision as they formed in front of my eyes.

>WARNING! Critical levels of leakage in crystal cooling system detected. The system is functioning at 10.0% efficiency. Please contact TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible.

>WARNING! Imminent overheat of crystal matrix system! Please contact TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible.

Ignoring those words with still unknown meaning for now, I steeled myself. With fresh resolve, I carefully tried to repeat my incredible feat of sitting upright. After some great effort and strain on my patience, I managed to do it. Taking a moment of respite, I looked in front of me. Mere hooves in front of me was a gaping hole in the wall of the room I had woken up in. The door, now wide open and covered in spare parts and wires, making it blend in with the walls from the inside of this building, was slightly swinging in a wind I couldn't feel. Carefully, my body shaking and my hooves wobbling madly, I rose on all fours. With very slow and careful steps I tried to turn in place only to be stopped dead halfway in my motion. My mouth agape and in a state of utter shock, I fell on my rump.

I was sitting on the top of a sloped hill, with the metal pony bones filled shack right behind me. Before my eyes laid a sight I could barely comprehend. A bizarre city stretched from horizon to horizon, filling my view. In the very heart of this strange looking place was a huge, dark, fortress-like building reaching out to the skies and piercing a thick layer of storm clouds covering the whole firmament. Surrounding that monolithic building were countless smaller, thin towers which seemed desperate to try and stretch as high as possible, as if attempting to breach the heavens like their colossal neighbor. Some of them near the centre of city succeeded at that, while the structures near the edge were barely rising above their surroundings. It was hard to see smaller details from this far, but the megalopolis was bustling with activity; erratically pulsing with lights of all colors imaginable, like a beating heart. Thousands of dots and silhouettes of varying sizes were swarming the glowing towers like moths in symmetrical patterns. On even intervals in the middle of the city, forming a circle, seven gleaming, humongous pillars of metal were piercing the skies, rising from the clouds of mist on the ground. Their tops shined with arcs of electricity from the constant lightning strikes caused by the violent thunderstorms blackening the sky. On the very rim, the city skyline ended abruptly, divided from its outskirts by a demarcation line of darkness and a monolithic concrete wall. Beyond the grey bulwark stood low and bulky buildings, bristling with pipes, periodically spewing out bursts of fire and clouds of dark, thick smoke. Further away from the city, a line of fumes and flares lit up the emptiness of night. Beyond them was a black nothingness, disturbed only by a few lonely blinking lights in the great distance.

Overwhelmed by this unreal visage and unable to look at it anymore, I lowered my eyes to the ground only to be paralyzed in a state of pure shock once more. These weren’t my hooves. I lifted one of them in the air before my eyes. It was nothing but a slightly corroded, bare metallic skeleton, coiled with colorful cables that dimly reflected the lights of the city. I looked back on myself and became even more horrified. Instead of a familiar lavender coat I was met with plates of faded plastic and rusted steel trying to cover metal bones that were circled in nets of wires and tubes connected to softly glowing crystals. I couldn't take this nightmare anymore! I began screaming in horror, and the glowing letters appeared once again :

> WARNING! Neural activity overload detected.

>WARNING! Crystals overheating detected.

>Emergency shutdown initiated

/// Consciousness shutdown ///

With that my vision began to fade and I fell to the ground.

How nice it was to finally get some sleep after months spent working up to twenty four hour shifts. It was nice not to feel tired, hungry or cold... Wait, I remember this strange feeling... Something was wrong. Very wrong. Memories of what I wished to be just a nightmare started to fill my mind. As confirmation to my fears, chains of glowing letters appeared in the blackness of my vision:

/// Consciousness is online ///

>Re-booting sequence complete

>Emergency shutdown initiated due to crystal overheating. If this happens again, please contact TCE Equinoid Technical Support for more information.

>Starting diagnostics...

>WARNING! Unidentified components detected. Please contact TCE Equinoid Technical Support Station for more information.

>WARNING! Critical levels of magical contamination on memory crystals. Please contact TCE Equinoid Technical Support Station as soon as possible. Remember: Negligence of annual magical decontamination for crystals is considered a criminal offense.

>WARNING! Severe leakage in crystal cooling system detected! System functions at 3.2% efficiency. Please contact TCE Equinoid Technical Support Station as soon as possible.

I didn't want to open my eyes and see that nightmarish city again, to witness my unnatural body once more. But just like the last time, my eyelids acted on their own. With lazy amazement I noted that they did not open by going up and down like it usually happened, instead they opened more like camera lenses. A pinpoint of light widening equally outwards with a quiet rustling sound, perceptible more by a vibration than anything else. And just like the last time, my vision became blurred, slowly coming into focus with soft metallic clicks inside my head, filled with formless thoughts that I wasn't able to concentrate on.

Just as earlier on, I regained my hearing before I was able to distinguish anything with my sight. I froze in horror after I realized that I could hear a quiet voice muttering something not far from me. It sounded like a muffled cursing accompanied by a rustling and a clicking sound of metal parts being shuffled together. Instinctively, I tried to jerk to my hooves, but absolutely nothing happened. I was paralyzed not only by fear, but also quite literally incapable of movement. I couldn't even move my head, which meant that my gaze was fixed on one single spot in space. So, in fear I waited until I could see at least anything.

The first thing I noticed with my half-focused sight was that it was much brighter out than the last time. The second thing was that somepony was moving right in front of me. Judging by the movement of the shape, I was lying on my side again, right on the floor. With every shutter my vision was returning to me and I began to realize that I was again in the shed where I woke up for the first time. Although it had a lamp glowing on the workbench now.

The picture before me finally came into focus and I was able to discern that the moving figure before me was actually a filly. Though it was much more illuminated than I remembered, I indeed was in the shack I had woken up in before. The filly was busy digging through the box with cut-off tubes of varying lengths and calibers, her tail swishing in the air as she almost dived into the container, mumbling incomprehensible curses.

Her coat was grayish-brown in color and extremely dirty. I even started to wonder if it was her natural color or just the culmination of smears of oil grease, grimy stains and smudges of ash. It was impossible to see her head, being buried in the box so deep, but judging by her tail she was a peculiar sight. Her tail was colored in a strange hue of bluish steel, subtly flowing in the light with darkened rainbow colors, as if her hairs were made from freshly welded iron. Maybe it was true, because parts of her tail and coat indeed looked singed. It was hard to say how old the filly was; while being of little size, she was already sporting a cutie mark, though because of the distance and constant wriggling of her rump, I couldn't tell what it was.

"Finally, this should do!" With a triumphant whoop the filly freed herself from the depths of the box and turned to me. "Oh, the reboot is finished. And I thought you were completely fried."

A reboot? Fried? What was she talking about? Thoughts were flowing in my head like tar, resisting my consciousness. I tried to voice my questions, but nothing happened. I was mute in addition to being paralysed. All I could do was wait in horror of what would happen next. Somehow I was in a full-blown panic while being calm at the same time, my mind partly out of my control. This time the situation didn't look like something I could solve.

As the filly hopped out from the box and walked towards me with a bundle of tubes in mouth, I was finally able to see her face. She was an earth pony, and indeed appeared quite young, now that I was able to have a good look at her. She had large, fire colored eyes with a purple gleam in them, her nose and the areas around the eyes were ink black. It was hard to say if it was soot or her natural coloration, because the rest of her face looked even dirtier than all of her body combined. Her mane looked just like her tail – strangely colored, slightly singed and, in addition, horribly tangled into a mess that looked like a wild animal’s nest. Despite her looking young, she already had noticeable scars across her face, and one of her ears had been reduced to naught but a few shreds. The most shocking feature of her body was her left front leg, or to be precise, its absence. Instead of natural pony fur, flesh and bone, there stood a metallic limb attached right into the stub. It didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. The mysterious filly crossed the space between us, approached my motionless body and began doing something with her hooves at my chest, humming a melody under her breath. From my position I wasn't able to see her, so all I could do was wait.

The orange flickering light from a lantern on the workbench didn't look like it was fire or lightning bugs, and yet, unlike electrical lights or enchanted gems. It was quite dim, but it was light nonetheless, bright enough for this strange filly. In the warm orange glow, the room looked even dirtier and rustier than before. However, from my immobile position on the ground, I couldn't see much. So, once again all I could do was wait for my fate to resolve itself.

Eventually, the little mechanic finished her quiet tinkering on my side and shuffled to my neck, turning my head in her direction so I could see her smudged face.

"Okay, I've fixed the crystal cooling system and now I'm gonna turn on your voice device. But if you try to scream your head off again I'll just wipe your crystals. I have some questions to ask," she said looking at me with a serious expression. With a motion of her hoof something loudly clicked in my throat and I felt an almost imperceptible hum in my mouth for a moment.

The filly didn't look menacing, so maybe this situation was solvable. Maybe. I calmed down a little, though not entirely, her words still sounding rather confusing.

"Shhh..crrr..hh-czz-t...fff," came out of my mouth as I tried to speak. The little mechanic frowned.

"Oh right, lemme just turn this down for a bit and to toggle that..." she began to mumble again and continued to do something with her hooves on the side of my throat. After a few seconds she proclaimed, "That should do it, try again."

"Kzztsshz...Wha... What is this place? W-who are you? What h-happened to me? Why can't I move!?" The stream of questions started to pour from me. I had noticed that my voice sounded strange – hollow and metallic, and that I all of a sudden was stuttering a bit and making strange noises which sounded like artifacts in voice recordings.

"Whoah, whoah! Not so fast, it was me who wanted to ask questions," the filly said, a little taken back. "Umm, you are in a, let's say... Uh... at my place. Name's Tin Flower, by the way. And, um... Your crystals and circuits got overheated when you ran outside, so I dragged you in and rebooted your system."

I looked at her blankly as she talked. What? Where was this place? And what was that about crystals again? Her answers didn't explain anything! I had only become even more confused! But Tin Flower completely ignored my expression and continued her rambling.

"I am actually surprised that you are even talking and acting with a consciousness." She tapped her chin with the metal hoof. "I expected all the crystals I used to be completely empty, but you seem to have a basic equinoid programming. Amazing!"

"I... I don't... understand," I muttered. "Why do you call me an equinoid? What does that mean? What do crystals have to do with anything?"

The grey filly looked at me in apparent confusion. "Huh, this is strange. You are supposed to know such things if you have the basic equinoid programming." Ignoring my inquiries, Flower continued, "Can you answer some of my questions, so I can understand what is happening to you?"

"I suppose so." It's didn't look like it was going to be easy to get the answers I wanted, and it didn't look like I was in a position to negotiate, either. "It's not like I can do anything else but answer your questions, since I can't even move."

"Oh... That. I'm just not sure about your intentions. I've heard a lot of stories about crazy equinoids..." The little filly looked at me with sudden concern in her eyes. "And you are already acting strange enough..."

I was taken aback by such an accusation. "W-what? I mean no harm to you, I swear! I just want to know what's happening."

"You and me both," she commented. We looked at each other for some time, Tin Flower looking at me with visible mistrust on her face and me looking back with what I supposed were pleading eyes. After a few moments her expression softened, she took a wrench a bit too big for her size from the workbench and moved to my torso.

"Alright," Flower said with a sigh, "I'm going to turn on your hydraulics pump, but no sudden movements, ok?"

A hydraulics pump? What is she talking about? I wanted to ask this mysterious filly so many questions. Instead I just tried to nod, only to be reminded that I still was paralyzed. "Alright," I echoed.

Mumbling something under her breath, she started working with her tool. For a few minutes, I silently waited, thoughts still beyond my grasp racing through my mind. The crystals? Why did she constantly talk about some crystals and why did I see those glowing messages about crystals? It felt like something important, but only for a moment. And... “hydraulic”? The term sounded familiar, but I couldn't recall where from...

From my position I was finally able to take a closer look at Tin Flower’s cutie mark. It appeared to be a simple flower with a stem, but the most remarkable thing about it was its color. Despite all the grime covering her body and face, it had a clear argent radiance unlike any other cutiemark I had seen before, as if the metal bloom was welded straight into the filly’s skin. Before I could ask how it was going and what had happened to my body, Flower stood up with a few new smears of oil marking her muzzle.

“Well, it should start pumping pressure in a jiffy, but honestly, I thought it was busted." Rubbing the oil all over her face in what she probably thought was a successful attempt to clear it off, the filly continued, "It is a miracle you managed to get out of my shed, I didn't even finish setting up half of your systems."

I was still confused by her words, but as she was talking, I felt a motion in my limbs, as if something inside them was inflated. Gingerly I tried to move my legs. With the sound of metal grinding on metal, my rear hooves moved to support my weight while I raised my upper torso with the front ones. Wobbling and shaking, I managed to sit upright. I didn't even fall once! That was huge progress, probably my crowning achievement thus far.

Cautiously, Tin Flower stepped back from my towering figure, holding the huge wrench in her mouth, following my every little movement with wary eyes.

"Thank you," I said and tried to smile. But my face didn't move. Yeah, talk about progress.

"No problem," Tin Flower answered, putting the wrench in her hoof, she sat a bit away from me. "Would you answer my questions now?"

I nodded, relishing in my ability to move again, even if it was slightly hindered. After a moment I added, "May I ask some questions later, too?"

"Sure.” She nodded. “But I go first. So, my first question will be..." The filly paused for a moment, thinking. "What exactly are you? I mean, when I was assembling you, you were supposed to be booted with an absolutely blank memory. The crystals looked empty, I swear." Uncertainly, she added, "But... You seem to act like a pony."

Assembling me? Booted? What was the deal with crystals again? Why wouldn't I act like a pony? But I promised to answer her questions first. So I gathered my disobeying thoughts and started to talk:

"I am Twilight Sparkle, Chief Scientist of the Royal Canterlot Research Centre.” Quietly I added, the meaning of my words strangely not entirely clear to me, "Also, the former pupil of Princess Celestia and... The former Bearer of the Element of Magic." I felt a great sadness after those words.

Tin Flower looked at me incredulously.

"The Royal Canterlot Research Centre? I've never heard of such a thing. Does that mean you are from the Inner Town?" Instantly, her face lit up with a mix of amazement and horror. "Are you from the Sky Palace?" But then the filly sagged and frowned as quickly as she had become excited. "But since when is the Crown interested in science? Only the TCE makes equinoids..." Flower raised her head, looking at me with wide eyes and asked, "are you some kind of an experimental equinoid from the Sky Palace after all?"

"Uhhh..." I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. An equinoid? Me? I didn't even know what that meant. The Sky Palace? The city outside didn't look like anything I knew that could have a palace, even in the countries beyond Equestria, and we certainly weren't in any place inside Equestrian borders. I wanted to ask her about our location again, but Tin Flower continued to speak with herself, completely ignoring me.

"Nah, the Crown couldn’t care less about science or equinoids... Wait, did you say Princess... what-is-her-name-again? You know, we are more than five hundred years into the era of no Princesses, so your words are starting to sound even crazier than before. I've never even heard about some ‘Element of Magic’." She frowned in deep thought. "You were either crazy to begin with or overheated and totally fried your crystals and jumbled your noodle. Or both. I probably should wipe you."

I stared at Tin Flower in shock. What was she talking about? Five hundred years? No Princesses!?

"Wait!" I yelled in panic. "I...I'm t-telling the truth, I swear! Please, I don't know what is happening! Don't... Don't wipe me! I..." I pleaded in desperation as Flower's brows furrowed even further.

"Okay, you sound kind of genuine, so let's not rush things..." She was interrupted by the door of the shack suddenly opening right behind me with a loud creaking sound.

"What's all this yelling about, Flower?" Came a young mare's voice from somewhere at the door. Suddenly the newcomer started yelling. "Wait... Is that a tinpony!? Are you fucking crazy!? I told you not to do it!"

Tin Flower hurriedly left my vision and rushed to the door. I tried to follow her with my head, not moving from where I sat, turning my numb body as fast as I could. The newcomer was still standing at the door. With my head and body moving agonizingly slow, I couldn't see her from where I was. But judging by the voice, she was a filly too.

"Listen, Wire, I can explain, it's um... Ah," the little tinkerer tried to defend herself, "...wait... How did you hear me? Did I forget to turn on the jamming device again?"

"Of course I can hear your stupid head and your fucking bucket with gems! How are you going to explain this to the police!? Creating a custom equinoid is a crime, Flower! Don't you fucking understand? How many times do I have to tell you!?" the newcomer continued to shout. "If someone finds out, the police will come for an investigation and... and... and they will send out a squad or... Or even a whole raid over here! And you know what Orange Grime will do to us when the police arrive or he finds out by himself! You are setting us all up! Don't you care about your friends!?"

"Shut the fuck up, Wire, and let me explain!" Tin Flower yelled back at her friend angrily.

I was stunned by the fierce bickering and such strong language for two young fillies. Suddenly a siren wailed in the distance. The two fillies immediately stopped talking and froze on the spot.

"I fucking told you!" Whined the new filly. "But you didn't listen!"

"Shut up!" said Tin Flower in a hushed harsh tone before she dashed inside to turn the lantern off.

For a few minutes we all sat frozen in the darkness, waiting. A heavy breathing was the only sound disturbing the silence, until Flower began to talk again.

"Maybe if you don't want somepony to find out, then maybe you should just shut the fuck up? All the Edge can hear your screeches! The milk is spilled, anyway." Flower paused for a moment, thinking. "There is something strange about this equinoid, Red Wire. I can't just disassemble her now."

"You're stupid, risking so much. It's like you're the one with rocks in the head instead of that metal doll of yours," fumed the other pony, much more quietly this time. "If something bad happens, it's all your fucking fault, mark my words. Now, show me what’s so special about this tinhead that could make you care so much."

I was still frozen in my half-turned position when a few moments later Tin Flower entered my field of view, turning the lights on as she made her way. She was followed by the pony called Red Wire. The newcomer looked just as young as her friend, but taller and much skinnier, sporting a cutie mark too, which looked like a crystal with runes and magic swirling around it. Her coat was of a very light shade of blue, contrasting violently with a bright red mane and tail. Unlike our host, she looked much cleaner and her mane appeared to have been combed recently, the hairs cascading on her horn. While Red Wire didn't have any scars or burns on her body unlike Flower, one half of her face was covered with badly healed fine cuts surrounding something that looked like a camera on her eye, glowing with golden light. The other eye was healthy but not completely matching in color, gleaming bright yellow in the dim light of the shack.

While Tin Flower was tinkering with some pillar-like device in the corner of the room, Red Wire looked critically at me with both her eye and her "camera" - a concentrated spot of light moving inside it, mirroring the motions of her pupil.

"Umm… Hi?" I tried to welcome the unicorn filly. She raised one eyebrow, but besides that completely ignored my words.

"Just a tinhead made of scrap and shit," Red Wire commented. "Can't see anything outstanding. Except for your sheer stupidity of course." She turned to Tin Flower.

"It's not about what she looks like. She talks about weird things that seem to have some truth behind them," Flower said with a huff. "I've turned on the jamming device, so nopony outside should hear us. But that doesn't mean you get to begin screaming again, Wire."

The said filly briefly glared at Flower, then turned back to me.

"What kind of things has it talked about that are so important? What kind of things can a tinhead even talk about? And how do you even know that it is safe to keep around?" Wire was looking at me with obvious disgust and mistrust.

"She claims her name is Twilight Twinkle and that she is some sort of a scientist working for the Crown. Something about elements and magic." After a moment she added, "Oh, and she says she is a student of Princess... Sunletsia, right?" Flower nodded in my direction. "Doesn't make any sense, actually," She mumbled very quietly.

I wanted to correct her, but before I could say anything, Red Wire began to speak.

"Bullshit," came an immediate answer from the harsh unicorn. "You have gone completely nuts, Flower. How can you be so stupid as to believe that? It has just gone haywire, I can feel a magic contamination in its stones from here." Tin Flower scowled at that.

"Listen up, Wire, I believe her. I feel like she is telling the truth or at least that she thinks so, it's not the usual gibberish of fried up equinoids, and I've checked her systems – she is running smoothly," stated the grease-stained filly with a displeased tone, pinching the bridge of her nose with a hoof. "Let's listen to her story again, maybe it will make more sense this time." Flower turned to me. "Twilight... That’s your name right? Tell us about yourself. What do you remember? What was the last thing that happened to you?"

I tried to take a deep breath, only to be reminded of my surreal condition. The sooner I explained myself, the sooner I could expect to find some answers and, hopefully, help. After trying again to gather my thoughts I began to tell them my story.

"My n-name is Twilight Sparkle. I am a t-twen... twenty-four year old Equestrian unicorn mare working as Chief Scientist of the Royal Canterlot Research Centre." My memory felt full of holes. I realized that I couldn't remember quite a lot. I tried to recall my last memory and in a shocking rush it came to me. "The last thing I remember was working on a flying cybersuit for... the war effort. And something went terribly wrong. I can't remember anything else." I thought that I remembered a lot of things clearly at first glance, but they became fuzzy as soon as I tried to concentrate on them.

The two fillies looked at each other with utter confusion written all over their faces.

"Wait a minute, she can't be talking about The Great War, right?" Tin Flower asked Red Wire. "I don't know much about history, but wasn't it, like, an eternity ago, even before the Princesses’ Ages? Maybe it's some other war?"

"There was only one war in Equestria – The Great War, Flower," Wire answered, looking very serious all of a sudden. Then the young unicorn turned to me and asked, squinting with suspicion, "Are you sure, tinhead? Against who did you fight in that war?" She finished her question, looking at me with expectation.

I tried to furrow my brows, which, of course, unsurprisingly, didn't do that. Ignoring it I concentrated, trying to remember.

Memories rushed through my mind.

Crystals, black, unnatural crystals glowing with menacing, pulsing red light inside. Crimson, fresh blood on snow. Eerie purple and green lights dancing with pitch black oily shadows, blending together. More blood, on sky blue crystals. Feeling of failure. Soldiers retreating, their general grieving and furious. He vows, he promises to return for the love. To save her from him... from...

"Sombra..." I muttered a single word, still reliving the grim vague visions. I couldn't remember something, something very important. But that's for later. I raised my eyes and saw Red Wire looking at me with a strange expression.

"The Ebony Warlock," she said slowly. "Sombra." She repeated that name carefully, as if it was dangerous to even pronounce it, and continued looking at me intensely. "But... It happened half of a millennium ago, you can't possibly remember it."

"Wait, what? What do you mean ‘half of a millennium ago’?" Remembering Flower's words, I added, “‘The Age of the Princesses’?" Why did she talk about them as if they were over?

Red Wire ignored my questions and turned to her friend, still looking concerned and starkly different in her demeanor.

"Flower, isn't she supposed to know all this? I don't know as much as you about them tinponies, but aren't they not supposed to be able to talk and think without a TCE factory memory stone?" she asked, looking back at the little earth pony quizzically.

"That’s what I been trying to tell you, her gems were completely empty when I installed them, I wanted to program her myself, but after the booting she just started to talk and walk around!" Answered Flower, looking at me with a mix of concern and wonder.

Red Wire turned back to me, her eye showing the same grave expression.

"Twilight... It's been 517 years since The Great War ended. Do you know what happened to you? Was it The Warlock's curse?" she said with some strange melancholy. "There is a story in my family that one of my ancestors fought in The Great War and was cursed terribly by Sombra himself. And there are rumors around, that his magic is still lingering in some of the gemstones mined in the North."

I didn't really listen to her because my head was spinning. Five hundred and seventeen years. How? And why did I feel a painful emptiness inside? There were blurry faces in my memory. They were painful to look at, but I couldn’t stop myself, and every time I thought I'd almost recognized one of them, it slipped from my mind, only to be replaced by another one. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it. How did I find myself here after five centuries? At least it explained why I didn't recognize Equestria’s landscape anymore, the lazy realization settled in my mind.

Both fillies were sitting in silence, probably not knowing what to say. It was hard to blame them; after all, ponies don't meet 500-year-old mares every day. But still, I had a lot of gaps in my mind and knowledge, so I decided to remind Tin Flower about her promise and ask her a few questions.

"Flower, may I ask you some questions?" I inquired, trying to remain calm.

"Huh...wha?" The grime-covered earth pony perked up in surprise. It looked like she had either dozed off or been lost in deep thought.

"I can talk too, you know... Twilight," Commented Red Wire. Nodding in the direction of her friend the red-maned unicorn added, "She may be good when it comes to mechanics, but I," she stuck her nose up in the air, "know more about the history of Equestria – it's our family tradition."

"That's only because your family is still alive to tell it to you," Flower snapped before very quietly mumbling, "and because you know how to read."

I patiently waited until the girls stopped bickering and continued, trying not to distract my still sluggish mind with what I'd just heard. I needed to know how I ended up here... And where "here" was.

"Ahem. So... Why is my body so strange? Is that the reason you’re calling me "equinoid" or "tinhead"? Where am I actually? What is that strange city I saw outside? Who is..."

My barrage of questions was rudely interrupted by Red Wire’s shriek aimed at her friend.

"What!? Did you really let her go outside? What if someone saw her!?" Wire hopped to her hooves from where she sat and pointed an accusing hoof at her earth pony friend. "Are you insane?" Red Wire entered into her hysterical mode once again.

"Shut up!" Tin Flower snapped back angrily. "Nopony saw her!" For my part I decided not to mention that somepony could have heard me as well, and apparently, Tin Flower wasn't eager to share that little detail either. Though, Red Wire didn't seem to be placated that easily.

"How could you know!?" The golden-eyed unicorn continued to rage while pacing in little circles. "For fuck’s sake, Flower, why can't you be a little less reckless and use your stupid head for once?!" Wire seemed only to get more and more agitated the more she ranted.

So, I was sitting in this tiny room, filled with ear-piercing shrieks echoing from the walls, listening as the two little fillies spewed obscenities at each other. It was rather tiring. At this pace, I was never going to have any of my questions answered.

"Um, girls, could you stop bickering, please?" I asked them. "I don't think it's going to help the situation." Red Wire seemed to calm down a little.

"Yeah, because if someone saw her, we are doomed anyway." Wire stopped pacing and sat on the floor, a bit away from Tin Flower and me. Turning to her friend she barked, "Shithead."

"...and I think you shouldn't use such a language, girls," I tried to preach to them, but my notion was completely ignored.

"Just fuck off already," replied Flower in a tired voice. It was obvious that she was losing patience, yet she tried to have the last word. "Nopony lives around here, anyway."

"Yeah, and what about Grime’s goons patrolling the territory, have you thought about that with that empty head of yours?" Red Wire began to wind up again, ready for a new bout of arguments and insults.

"Shut the fuck up!" Tin Flower finally exploded, jumping on her hooves. "You horned cun..." But I didn't let her finish.

"Girls!" I yelled as loud as I could, which turned out to be way too loud for my voice. It reverberated powerfully in my throat with screeching interference, forcing the two fighting friends to cover their ears with pained expressions plastered across their faces. Carefully this time, more quietly I said, "Stop it! You act like a couple of foals, did you forget that you two are friends?" Words started to flow out of my mind with a strange pleasant ease, as if I was playing a familiar song on an instrument after a long hiatus, yet I still remembered the notes, each one coming with more ease with the progression of the score... I could feel long gone memories resurfacing only to remain beyond my reach.

"Tin Flower admitted her mistake, you don't have to berate her for it over and over!” With that said, the filly smirked smugly in victory. I turned menacingly to her. "And you must stop using that foul language!" I turned to Red Wire again. "That applies to you too, young lady!"

For a while we all sat in silence, I was still fuming about the girls’ behavior, and they were probably carefully choosing what to say next. Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind.

"Why do you care so much about anypony seeing me?" I asked none of them in particular, hoping that they wouldn't explode in another fight.

"Because creating custom equinoids is illegal!" Red Wire instantly answered, raising an accusing hoof again. "And she knows it perfectly well." Oh, please, not again.

"Fuck off," snapped Tin Flower and covered her mouth after she realized what she had just said. But I barely noticed it because something wasn't making sense in my mind.

"Wait... I don't understand.... What do you mean "creating equinoids"?" I asked in confusion, my sluggish thoughts slowly comprehending the situation. In a moment, the implications of all I'd heard from them started to click together and I began to realize in shock. "How could you create... me?"

"Well, because I'm that good!" Exclaimed Tin Flower puffing her grease covered chest in pride, her eyes gleaming on her dirty face. "I've been gathering parts for months and made you from scratch all by myself!" I looked at her, my mouth opening to unleash a torrent of questions, but Red Wire just couldn't miss a chance to verbally jab her friend again.

"And thus you have violated the law, you stupid criminal," Red Wire grumbled. And then she frowned. "Wait a minute, Flower, where did you get the crystals for your equinoid? Tinheads’ stones never end up in the Edge, not in a working condition," She said, squinting at her companion.

Crystals again? But at least now I could learn something about them. I remained silent, not making any assumptions or conclusions about my situation until I could have a chance to ask Tin Flower directly about how she had created me, because I still didn't understand what that meant or how it was possible.

"Um... He-he, funny story, really, I was wandering in the Canterlot Outer City and..." The suddenly fidgety and uncertain filly began to tell.

Wait what? The city outside was Canterlot!? No, it couldn't be true, it was huge, and strange, and...

"You fucking what!?" Red Wire instantly exploded in fury. Cautiously, she looked at me. Already tired of attempting to fix their antics, I only rolled my eyes… or at least tried to. "You certainly want to end up in an isocube by any means, don'tcha? Why wouldn't you just join the Pink Butterflies and stop involving us in your stupid ideas!?" The golden-eyed unicorn fumed again while glancing warilyat me. Maybe I had some effect on them after all. Maybe.

"Calm down, I knew what I was doing. I wasn't even that deep into the city," snapped back Flower. "Where else was I supposed to get equinoid matrixes?" she excused herself.

"In the Tunnels. It will even spare us your funeral," the angry unicorn said. Tin Flower answered her with only a furious glare as she continued with her story. I'd definitely call that progress, I thought in the back of my mind.

"So, as I said, I was in the city." Red Wire huffed at that. Ignoring her, the little mechanic continued, "and just behind one of the buildings, near the garbage containers, I saw a box with something gleaming in it. Turns out it was a casket with large enchanted gems, just like the ones usually used for matrixes."

"You just stole it, didn't you?" deadpanned the still angry Wire. "And you probably don't even know how tin ponies' brains look like inside their tin skulls." The unicorn tried to pinprick her friend again.

"No, I don't... I mean, I didn’t steal it, honestly! And does it matter if I know or not how they look; they worked, that’s what matters!" Flower tried to defend herself, pointing at me.

"Let me see them. Those gems sound suspicious." Wire turned her head to me, giving me a long look through her squinted eye. "I can feel magic contamination in them just by standing near your tinhead. You know how weird that is?"

Tin Flower turned to the workbench and started to rummage through boxes. After a minute or so of muttering muffled curses, she returned with an ornate little casket in her hooves and put it on the floor in front of us. Just looking at that casket, I felt weird, which was an amazing feat, considering how I was already feeling. Something tugged inside me. I felt drawn to the contents of the box, as if I should be familiar with them. But no matter how hard I tried to remember why, I just couldn't.

"Hmm, looks fancy, I'm pretty sure you did steal it, though; nopony is going to throw that away," said Red Wire without any malice, but with the clear intent of taunting her friend.

"No, I did not! I'm telling you! Have I ever lied?" retorted the accused filly.

"Meh, who cares actually, you are already on your way to a life sentence," shrugged the unicorn. "Now, lemme take a look at them crystals."

With a soft golden glow of magic, Wire opened the box, took out one of the gems and brought it close to her artificial eye, its lenses shifting with jarring clicks while she was humming something quietly. Crystals, once again...

"Custom cut stuff, haven't ever seen anything like this," Wire stated, lenses on her mechanical eye shifting while she spun the gem in her magic.

"Like you have seen a lot in this shithole of a place," huffed Tin Flower. Me and Red Wire glared together at her. But the unicorn instantly returned to studying the gem, too fascinated with the finely cut stone in her telekinetic hold to come up with some witty riposte.

"It’s enchanted with very simple stuff, old and outdated techniques. Nopony enchants like this nowadays." Wire twirled the gem in her magic. "Hmm... It's a recording spell from what I can tell, but for whatever reason it has so much energy put in it that it’s brimming with magical residue and still holds a charge. Amazing. No wonder my horn can’t stop itching. Now, let's try to activate it and listen to the recording."

Red Wire put the gem away from her face, thought for a moment, bit her outstretched tongue, and activated the enchantment with an intensifying glow of magic. Her eyes widened in surprise as the enchanted crystal suddenly discharged a bright flash of purple magic and an ethereal translucent purple tendril swiftly reached to my eyes, filling my vision with purple glow and pain.

Log entry number 52-47/5 from April 5, 8th year of the 5th Era. By Twilight Sparkle...

A tired unicorn, looking at me through a window... No, a mirror...

...Chief Scientist of the Royal Canterlot Research Centre. Today I'm going to supervise a...

I'm slowly walking through the empty halls of my home... No, it's my prison... No... My forge...

...test of automated combat body armor, the first ever in Equestrian history...

I am making armor... A weapon for a war... For The War... We are losing... Our last hope...

...Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Special Air Forces, will serve as the test pilot. Now, I'm going to do a double check of...

Wait, I know that mare... The most loyal friend... My friend...

...the armor suit and the testing program.

I remember now... Up in the sky... No... Why is she falling... No! Rainbow Dash!

With a thunderous clap of magic, the purple glow dissipated in a wave of physical force, knocking back the fillies as well as most of the things in the room. But I was still in mid-leap, trying to catch her falling body, clad in steel with an exposed net of intertwined tubes and wires connecting enchanted crystals. Crystals... It all made sense now. With a loud thud I hit the floor and curled up in agony.

Soon the cacophony of shattering glass, dozens of fallen tools and artificial pony limbs winded down. The only sounds left in the room were my sobbing and the echoing last words of the recording: "...the armor suit and the testing program".

I couldn't cry, but I wanted to. In the magic explosion I saw all that happened that day. I remembered everything - my mind was cleared of that strange fog of indifference and the thick tar of forgetfulness which had permeated my consciousness, obscuring my memories and thoughts ever since I'd first awoken in this nightmare. In a moment, even before my new artificial body touched the dirty, rust-covered floor, everything my mind had tried to deny for all this time clicked into place. The horrible nature of my artificial body. The devastating distance of time, separating me from my Equestria, from my reality. The implications of my existence.

It wasn’t my new body. There never was an old body which belonged to me. Because I wasn’t Twilight. I was just a magical imprint, a residue of her magic left by her voice in the hoof-ful of enchanted gems.

I was not Twilight Sparkle.

I was just her echo.

Could I even be considered a living being now? Had I become a walking shell, filled with the ghost of a pony gone long ago? Could Twilight herself still be alive? Or any of my... her friends? Or Spike? What was my place in this strange world of the distant future?

I was lying on the same spot where my body landed in a heap of metal and plastic, trying to comprehend the horrible reality, my mind filled with questions I had no answers for. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know them. In the corner of my eye I saw Tin Flower helping Red Wire, slightly stunned by the whole incident, rise to her hooves. They both were looking at me with a mix of awe and fear, unable to tear their gaze from my shaking form, the young ones’ eyes gleaming with wonder in the darkness of the room. Eventually, after a quick search, Tin Flower pulled out a lamp from one of the clutter heaps now littering the floor after the violent explosion. She flicked it on and after a few blinks the dim amber light flooded the room once again. All the time Red Wire was sitting there, looking at me with wide eyes, her expression unreadable. Glancing at her friend, slowly and cautiously the little mechanic approached me.

"Twilight?" She poked me with her prosthetic hoof. I didn't feel that but saw it and heard a clang of metal on metal. Seeing no reaction, Tin Flower poked me again. "Twilight!"

"Don't… P-please don’t call me that," I answered turning my head away. "I'm n-not her."

"Why?" she inquired, tilting her head to the side. "You even sound just like her from the recording."

"G-go away. Just l-leave m-me alone." I turned my back to her, sobbing.

The little mechanic circled me to look me in the face, with Red Wire joining her. They looked at each other and the unicorn filly started to talk in a serious tone.

"Whoever you think you are doesn't really matter right now. The fact is that you are not a tin pony, strictly speaking. You are closer to a successful True Transference than any other pony ever was. But you still have an equinoid body." I took a glance at it, rusted metal plates now dented from my recent fall. "A custom made equinoid body." With those last words she looked accusingly at her friend. "Making custom equinoids is prohibited by the law of the Crown. You can't stay here, not like this." I raised my head and looked at her with fear – the last thing I needed now is to be thrown out into this no longer familiar world. Even if Wire noticed my terrified expression, she didn't show it, and after a brief pause she continued, "My sister once mentioned a stallion in the Outer City who makes fake serial numbers and identities for equinoids and ponies alike. I think he owes her one from a long time ago. He can help you."

With that she turned away and stepped over to the window, attentively looking in the distance.

"That’s unexpectedly kind of you, Wire," commented Tin Flower, who followed her friend with a slightly amazed gaze. "Just like the old times," she whispered under her breath.

"Don't get used to it," grumbled the golden-eyed unicorn from where she sat, breeze playing with the strands of her crimson mane. "I hope your jamming thing hid that explosion, Flower. Otherwise we’re going to have guests, and soon. I'll watch out and see if anypony's coming."

"I'm sure it did," the earth pony filly answered while glancing at the machine in the corner of the room, the device blinking with a single tiny green light. "Never hurts to check, though." With that she ran to the device, opened a latch on its side and almost shoved her muzzle inside, peeking into the inner workings with one eye.

"It’s running smoothly," Tin Flower said with satisfaction and closed the latch. As she left the machine, her expression hardened.

"But Wire is right." Flower looked at me. The mentioned unicorn made an incomprehensible sound. Ignoring that, the little mechanic added, "Making equinoids is a crime and a serious one. Sooner or later somepony is bound to find out."

"Finally! You've figured it out!" Red Wire couldn't refrain herself from commenting. Not disturbed by that jab, the little earth pony continued talking.

"We need to do something. But fake documents won't resolve all of the problems, though. I'm still not sure what or who you are," Tin Flower finished, looking me in the eyes.

"Neither am I," I answered her with sadness, my thoughts returning to the fact that she "created" me.

For a while, Flower sat still, her brow furrowed deep in thought. Her unicorn friend was still looking out the window, searching for something, lenses shifting in her mechanical eye. My mind was blank, the initial shock of what happened abated, creating a painful emotion of emptiness inside me. After a long silence a thought occurred to me about Red Wire’s words.

"What did you mean when you said I'm ‘closer to a True Transference than any other pony ever was’? What is Transference?" I said, trying to imagine what it could be. "Has anypony done what you did before – used crystals and magic to create... something like me?"

Before Tin Flower could even open her mouth, Red Wire turned from the window while answering my question.

"Many tried, and some still do," she told me before Tin Flower chimed in.

"But nopony was ever able to do a True Transference. It is thought to be impossible to transfer a pony mind into a cybernetic body without them losing nearly all their memories and emotions," She finished for her friend, still appearing to be deep in thought.

"Why?" was all I could ask, still confused about the whole concept of transferring ponies to other bodies.

"The Transference Paradox," Red Wire answered again. Tin Flower absentmindedly nodded. "Nopony knows why it happens. But it seems it's worked for you... Twilight."

Tin Flower seemed to finally come to a conclusion -she turned to me and asked, tilting her head to the side, "Why do you refuse to call yourself Twilight?"

"Because I'm not her," came my bitter answer. I looked at my hooves. I didn't want to think or talk about it, but it was inevitable. I couldn't run from myself, so I continued, "I'm just like a r-recording, nothing like an original."

"But you do have her memories and emotions, don't you?" Tin Flower asked.

"And what does that change?" I retorted.

"I don't know how it was back in your time," Red Wire stepped from the window and walked closer to me until she was looking me right in the eyes. I shuddered at the reminder of how long had passed since my time. "But nowadays memories are something very important to everypony," she continued, picking up the recording gem from the floor, lenses of her glowing eye shifting. "These days memories can be fabricated, transplanted or... stolen. The Transference Paradox makes ponies lose their memories and with them they lose themselves."

Wire put the gem back into the casket and again looked me straight in the eyes, her melancholic expression contrasting with the impression of a hysterical and harsh filly she gave initially. She suddenly looked too mature for her age.

"Memories define who we are. If you have the memories of a pony named Twilight Sparkle, you are Twilight Sparkle, like it or not," she finished, her face unreadable as she let her words sink in.

If I could have furrowed my brow, I would have. It was a completely novel and strange concept to me, but Red Wire was making sense.

"But I d-don't remember anything beyond the testing of the armor suit," I said after some thought. "I'm not "whole" Twilight, only a fragment of her memories."

"And what if we helped you restore the rest of your memory somehow?" Tin Flower joined our conversation, picking up the small chest with my recording crystals and opening its lid. "There are more of those gems in this box; maybe they will help to restore all of your memories," she said hopefully, extending hooves with the ornate box in my direction. I shook my head.

"I recognize them, these are all the old ones, way before the accident, they barely hold anything significant in them, besides science reports," I commented sadly, looking at the familiar, finely cut gemstones.

"The accident?" Inquired Tin Flower, looking at me questioningly and putting the casket on the floor beside her.

"My friend and I were testing an experimental combat armor, when something went wrong. I don't know what, but there was an explosion... I don't even know if Rainbow Dash survived..." A sudden realization struck me. "Or even if I survived...”

For a few minutes we all sat in silence, the girls deep in thought and me trying to wrap my mind around the new complications of my already way too tangled situation. Tin Flower was first to speak up.

"You said that you were a scientist, right? Doesn't that mean that you were an important pony?" She said with a hopeful look.

"Well, you could say so," I replied in confusion. Sadly I added, " I was the Bearer of the Element of Magic, one of The Elements of Harmony. It was a very important role. Why do you ask?"

"Uh, I don't know what do you mean by the last part," began Tin Flower as she glanced at her unicorn friend.

"Never heard of them, either," shrugged Red Wire.

"But if you were indeed an important pony, then there has to be some records about you, and we can find out what happened to you after that accident," the little mechanic finished with a smile. Red Wire nodded in approval of that idea.

It was better than nothing. I still wasn't entirely convinced I had the right to call myself Twilight, but I needed to know that happened during and after that accident.

"Where can we find such information?" I asked the fillies, unsteadily rising to my hooves. All my senses were still jumbled, but moving my strange body around was becoming easier.

"Uhh... Some kind of an archive?" Suggested Tin Flower, tapping her chin. "There has gotta be one somewhere in the city, methinks, but I don't know where." She glanced at her friend.

"Don't look at me. I've never been to the city," said Red Wire, rolling her eye. "I'm not as foolish as some ponies".

"Yeah, but we will have to go to the city anyway, if we want to get fake IDs for Twilight," continued Flower, ignoring the last remark.

"I already regret mentioning this to you," the little unicorn whined. "Ugh, what am I getting myself into again?"

"Come on, Wire, where does that stallion you mentioned live?" asked Tin Flower, nudging her friend’s shoulder with the metal limb.

"On the streets, duh, just like most of the Outer City," the grumpy filly answered, rolling her eye again.

"Stop being a smartass, Wire." Flower rolled her eyes back at the unicorn and pressed on. "Where can we find him?"

"Sis said once that he is somewhere at the South-East Thunderspire, in the Outer City," Red Wire finally answered. But before Tin Flower could say anything she continued, "I have a better question: how are we going to get Twilight"–she nodded in my direction–"out of the Edge? We can't go through the checkpoint, obviously. And Orange Grime's goons guard all the Tunnels' entrances. If they notice us, we are done."

Tin Flower scrunched her face, deep in thought.

"Yeah, it's a problem." After a pause she added, "I know one unguarded tunnel entrance, which I've used. But it's too small for an equinoid to get through... If we have no way to leave this sector together, our only chance is to go through Nebula's sector and try to get to the city from there."

"Seems like we don't have much of a choice," agreed Wire with a scowl. "At least her jerks are too high on the stripes' stuff to care what happens on their turf." She too scrunched her face, thinking hard. "But we will have to go near the Toxic Dump if we want to avoid Grime's assholes.”

Tin Flower looked at the side of her metal hoof and her face darkened.

"Crap, we've been at this all night. The dawn is near, it means that wind is going to start blowing from the Dump," she said in an unexcited voice and then explained, "If we don't want our faces to melt down to skulls we are gonna need some protective equipment." Looking at Red Wire she asked, "Any ideas?"

After a pause she replied, "I may still have a couple of environmental suits at home, left over from when my father worked at the Dump, but I'm not sure. It means we will have to swing by my place," Wire finished, looking concerned.

"Are you sure about that, Wire?" Tin Flower asked while looking as concerned as the unicorn. "What if your folks see us?"

“My sister works on the dayshift and my mom will probably still be sleeping," she replied, looking out the window with sigh. "I will just grab them suits and be out in no time, you don't have to come in."

"Well, then it's settled!" While Red Wire was dusting herself off, Tin Flower hopped on her hooves and started to quickly rummage through the heaps of clutter lying on the floor, and after a few moments she pulled out something resembling saddlebags and begun stuffing them with various tools and other things. She also didn’t forget to put the casket with gems in them. As Flower continued to gather stuff up, she asked over her shoulder, "Are you ready, Twilight?"

How could I be? Outside the door lay a world completely new to me, filled with confusing things and ponies, while I myself was the most confused of them all. Canterlot sounded dangerous and unwelcoming – I was genuinely scared. But I needed answers. I needed to know what happened to me. I was here, and I was... alive. I couldn't spend rest of my days hiding in this rusty shed; I had to go out and learn about this strange new Equestria, and fortunately, those two little fillies knew where I should begin. So gathering all my resolve, I replied in a determined yet shaking voice.

"Let's go."

Author's Notes:

It is quite challenging to write a story in a not-native language, and despite titanic efforts of the editing team a few mistakes could have sneaked in. If you see any of them, please, let me know – I'll fix them in a timely manner. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed reading this story so far.

A little addition (03.06.2019):
As you can notice, the quality of the prologue (and the first 3-4 chapters) is not that high. I promise that in later chapters it is not the issue and soon I'll return to those chapters and give them another look.

And the last:
I invite you to join Aftersound Project discord server where you can chat with Geka and I, discuss the story, get to see announcements, little snippets of the future chapters and new illustrations.
https://discord.gg/R5Ky8K4

Chapter 2 – On the verge

Again, I was outside Tin Flower's workshop. This time however, with my mind in a much better state than before, I was able to take a proper look at Canterlot and its surroundings. Even in the dim light of approaching dawn the no longer familiar city was still glowing as brightly as it was at the night I saw it for the first time. Modern Canterlot was unbelievably huge, from a delicate little city of gilded ivory spires on mount Diamond Point steep cliffs it had bloated to a humongous megapolis, covering all lands from foothills of the mountain to borders of still existing and recognizable Everfree Forest. It was hard to make out that far, but it looked like Canterlot had been expanding to the North just as widely, circling what once was its original location with a vast lake of a neon fire and the ancient stone peak now indiscernible behind towers rising to the heavens. With the black veil of Luna’s night being driven away by sunrise drawing near, it could be clearly seen how stark was a contrast between the gleaming buildings of Canterlot pulsing with intense lights and flickering out like embers smoking slums of the Edge. As to accentuate this difference, a thick concrete bulk of a wall loomed over gloom and dirty landscape of the capital’s outskirts.

And unlike the glowing city on the other side of the wall, visible for me stripe of the Edge circling Canterlot was distinctly divided by invisible lines into sectors, as it was mentioned before by the fillies. The sector, surrounding the hill I was on, resembled nothing but a scrapyard - huge piles of twisted and broken metal parts of once whole feats of engineering were a dominant sight of a rust colored bleak landscape with only a few bulky buildings in a distance glowing with a soft pulsing orange haze. Here and there, almost indistinguishable amongst all the garbage, were little huts made from the very same corroding rubbish.

Far on my left snowladen summits of Foal Mountain were dominating horizon over extensive landfill, though, I didn’t recognized them at first. Almost the whole entirety of metal dump laid between me and distant range. Before I had a thought about a possibility of such an action, I tried to squint by reflex, and, to my surprise, my vision blacked out but returned after a moment with a soft click, now significantly zoomed in. Taken aback by sudden change, I tried to blink and with the same click and momentarily blackness picture before my eyes reverted to the normal. Huh, very interesting - I can get used to it. I focused my gaze on the Foul Mountain ridge again and squinted.

Nowadays, short stone peaks were generously pock-marked by gaping holes of countless tunnels drilled in their sides, most of these pitch-black maws surrounded by machinery with rusted wagons and makeshift shacks covering dark granite slopes like a caked blood, twinkling with occasional smoking fires. According to Red Wire’s words it was Nebula’s sector, and it seemed to be dedicated to mining operations, though, I couldn't remember this mountain being rich with any minerals. Rather strange.

On the right, the junkyard sector ended abruptly with a huge depression in landscape, which looked like a canyon of a truly colossal size. With sudden realization it came to me that I was looking on what had become of Rambling Rock Ridge over a half of millenia. It looked very much like Nebula’s territory but it seemed to be completely abandoned - half of the tunnels carved into the moss covered walls were crumbled and from what I could see in the gloom of this early morning, not a single piece of huge machinery stayed intact - all of their dark silhouettes looked twisted and broken; as if with purpose. Not a single speck of light or a pillar of smoke could have been seen over this scar on Equestrian land, and the lowest places of the artificial trough were filled with small lakes of very thick, unnatural looking fog.

To my sheer amazement, the Everfree Forest was looming over the desolate crevice looking absolutely the same as I remembered it. The somber and menacing thicket was standing in a place where a whole sector of the Edge could have been, but it seemed that no technology was able to defeat the taint that gave birth to this nefarious place. It was truly ironic, that the most chaotic place in Equestria was refusing to change. I tried to squint harder to take a look at the wall between the forest and the city; my vision zoomed in even more. Noticeably taller than in the other sectors, a concrete wall stood between the city and the unrelenting forest. It didn’t seem to be handling the strain from the sheer amount of time and close vicinity to wild nature very well - I could clearly see the structure crumbling and huge jagged holes in its bulk, allowing black vines to slither towards the city towers, which stood in estrangement, as if afraid of being attacked by the dark trees. It looked like the Everfree had won a battle with Canterlot quite a while ago - a considerable space between the half destroyed remnant of the wall and the gleam of the city was left unoccupied, filled with nothing but darkness and moss covered debris of what, I assumed, once were buildings who dared to challenge the ancient grove.

With a blink, I zoomed back to normal and glanced at the girls, who had been quietly discussing the best route to Wire's home. Both of them were now covered in dirty tattered cloth rags, some of them having an odd plastic look. On top of being very dirty, Tin Flowers impromptu clothes appeared to be soaked in machine oil at some point in the past. And just like the little fillies, I was muffled in dirty strips of cloth with a cloak draped on my shoulders and head, giving me a look of Clover The Clever from Hearth’s Warming Pageant. I could understand why I had been hiding under these tatters, since I wasn’t quite legal apparently, but was it so cold that Flower and Wire had to put clothes on, too? I could feel no cold, or warmth for that matter, and I was uncertain about the current season - the only trees I saw were at the Everfree forest, and that place was never known for following natural order of things. There was no snow laying on the ground, at least, yet the skies were covered with heavy clouds… Anyway, the fillies looked like they had came to some decision and finished talking, so, very curious about modern Equestria, I decided to ask them about it.

"Why the Edge is so different from the central part of Canterlot?" Giving a brief look at stone bulwark in the distance I added one more question. “And why it is divided from the city with the wall?"

"Because the Edge is both an industrial area and a colony for those who committed minor criminal offenses," Tin Flower said from where she was sitting with Red Wire. I thought I heard the unicorn say something along the lines of "Ugh, it's gonna be a long walk...", but I was too perplexed with Flower's answer and continued with my inquiries.

"What? How does it even work? Who controls the production?" My head instantly started filling with countless questions. I couldn't wrap my mind around such a bizarre concept - criminals supplying the industrial demand of such a huge city. There can’t be that many felons, right?

"Gangs. And before you ask, the Crown controls them with food rations," Chimed in Red Wire, slowly walking towards me, followed closely by her earth pony friend. "The Crown sends a production plan to the Edge's sectors. If it is accomplished, the TCE will send food rations to gang leaders. Maybe." She sat beside me and gazed at the distance ignoring my shocked look. "You can say that we are all controlled with hunger."

I was speechless, I just couldn't believe what I was hearing! Even during the war, when a demand from the army was higher than what Equestrian industry could supply, ponies were still treated fairly. Nopony in Equestria had known hunger for centuries.

"This is horrible!" I finally exclaimed. The fillies sitting beside me merely shrugged as if they didn't care in a slightest, but they looked utterly defeated, their eyes hollow. I realized that they weren’t just young and thus small in size, but actually were severely underfed. I decided not to ask how often in the past their sector failed to meet the Crown's demands.

"And what is considered minor criminal offense?" I asked instead, deciding to steer conversation from a sensitive topic of food.

"Being homeless is the most common one, methinks. When the TCE needs fresh workers in one of the sectors they send the police to comb through the Outer City - there are always lots of ponies in the streets," Answered Tin Flower. "Most of the time though, nopony cares about what happens in the city, it's hard to be caught doing something illegal."

Banishing just for being homeless? It didn't sound like the Equestria I lived in, not in the slightest. I had a hard time believing that a settlement of such size didn’t have enough place for everyone. And, after all, Canterlot wasn’t the only city in Equestria. Each time the girls opened their mouths I ended up having more questions than I began with.

"And creating equinoids is considered one of major crime offences." Red Wire glared at her friend. The earth pony answered her with the same glare, and before they could start fighting again, I decided to ask another question.

"How is it punished?" I wondered if it was being banished and thrown in the dungeon in the place pony was being banished to.

"The offenders are sent to a correctional facility, spend months in iso-cubes waiting for their memories to be wiped and after are sent to the TCE’s Gardens to work for the rest of their lives, if you can call that life of course." Red Wire stated, clearly pronouncing every word and looking directly into Tin Flower's eyes as if she was answering her. Turning back to me, she added, "The alternative is to be sent to the Crystal Mines at the far North, and nopony has ever returned or even been heard of again. Usually it happens to the Pink Butterflies."

I thought that controlling the population with hunger was shocking but this was the whole new level - it was a travesty of a justice system.

"But that is inequine!" Suddenly a grim realization dawned on me. "Wait... were you two banished, too?" I asked them carefully.

"Nah," Tin Flower was the first to answer with a flick of her steel hoof. "I've lived in this hole all my life. I think it was my great grandparents were deported to the Edge, probably for being homeless. Not everypony here is a felon, some of us are just descendants from them."

I glanced at Red Wire, who turned her face partly away from me. Her face looked pained, her natural eye watering. I wanted to ask her if she was alright, but Flower put her metal hoof on my shoulder with soft clicking sound and shook her head, silently mouthing: "Don't."

We all sat silently for a while, each deep in their own thoughts and emotions. I was trying to comprehend this nightmarish reality which looked like as if Equestria never actually won the war, but instead - lost. I broke the silence with yet another question.

"How can the authorities be so indifferent about the fates of their subjects?" Bearing almost the same name as back in my time - the Crown - now it was anything but the government I once served. Did the absence of the Princesses make it so?

"All they actually do care about these days are brothels, sucking the TCE's cock and keeping the Purists under control. And they are good only at the first two." Red Wire answered me angrily and curtly, no more looking distraught. "And let's get moving while it is still early.” She rose from her hooves and started to briskly trot, almost canter, in the direction facing away from the city.

"Anyway, the Crown doesn't actually control Canterlot, if you ask me. It's well know even amongst a folk from the Edge," Added Tin Flower, motioning with head to follow her friend.

Now I was confused. I thought of the TCE as some sort of company... and who are these "Purists?" Catching up with the fillies I continued the barrage of my incessant questions at them.

"Wait... then who rules Equestria?" It didn’t seem like Wire was very eager to talk, and the small earth pony was too busy keeping pace with the long legged unicorn to respond with anything different than huffs, so it took some time before I got any answer.

We were trotting down the winding path between high piles of metal scrap, occasionally passing rusty sheds, none of them looking inhabited. To be honest, none of them even looked habitable, most of them were miserable tiny houses, half-ruined and sporting huge gaps in the walls and roofs. Some to the point that I had trouble telling if they even were structures made with purpose or just random remnants of machinery.

"Canterlot," Red Wire corrected me without turning, still pushing forward with some grim determination. "Canterlot and the Crystal Mines. Canterlot is the last inhabited city in Equestria now, anything beyond the Edge is either poisoned or frozen waste for kilometers. Nopony lives there anymore. And nopony has full control over the city - it's a constant fight between the TCE and each group of the Purists. And The Tunnels are another story completely." As usual, this created more questions than it answered. What happened with all the other cities? Is it why Canterlot is so overpopulated?

"Who are..." I started to say, but it seemed like Wire knew what I was going to ask her next, so she interrupted my question with another bit of information.

"The TCE stands for the Transcontinental Company of Equestria. They control all the production and almost all the trade with help of the Crown's police forces, and they are also protected by the Crown - police basically only work for them. The Crown is the TCE’s puppet most of the time," Red Wire said to me while slowing down a little, unicorn’s are not known for their exceptional stamina after all. However, thanks to my new body's nature, I didn't feel tired from fast walking at all - it was probably the first positive thought in my head today. Anyway, something in Wire's words caught my attention and I asked for clarification.

"Most of the time? But not all the time, right? Does it mean the Crown actually does something for Canterlot?" I now was trotting beside Red Wire with Tin Flower still huffing and cursing under her breath behind us.

I saw the reason why we had slowed down - the path we had been following was obscured with rusted girders lying around, half-buried under their sloped angles. We spent a few minutes wading through the obstacles, with me helping the fillies climb over the massive steel beams. After the forest of huge metal bars thinned out, Red Wire continued to tell me about the forces in charge of Canterlot.

"Yeah, there are two things the Crown personally cares about. The first one - the brothels, as I already said. It is totally unofficial, of course, but everypony knows anyway. “ She crouched under one the bent steel girders giving me time to interject with a furious exclamation.

“Wait, I didn’t mishear the first time? Brothels? But that’s an absolutely barbaric practice - they were always prohibited in Equestria!” Absolutely disgusting. Goddesses help me, the more I had learned about this modern world the less I wanted to know.

“You better not say that outloud, Twilight, the Crown protects them more than anything in the whole Canterlot. You want to go on a vacation to the Crystal Mines? Do something stupid in a brothel, like, I dunno, hit one them whores and you a goner." Red Wire shifted to her "annoyed by everything" demeanor from the somber determination face of earlier. I wanted to ask about what the second Crown’s interest was, but Tin Flower, who finally was able to catch up with us, joined the conversation from my other side.

"Funny thing, nopony actually knows anything about that other thing the Crown cares so much about, because usually nopony is left alive to tell about what happened," stated the little mechanic.

"She’s right - occasionally some shit happens and the Crown sends squadrons of Royal Guards and they slay anypony involved - no witnesses, no evidence left..." added Wire while shaking her head. "It has to be something very important, because the Royal Guard doesn't even deal with Pink Butterflies, and those fucks destroyed one of the Thunderspires once."

"So it is actually good that the Crown doesn't care for Canterlot, because when they do, it involves the Royal Guard and nopony wants that," finished Flower. "The Crown may appear like puppets and tools, but they shouldn't be messed with."

“Who are they, actually?” Oh, please don’t tell me they are descendants of Blueblood!

“Most of them are distant relatives of the Princesses as far as know.” I groaned internally - it might explain a lot. “And they formed government right after all the Princesses were gone.” My fears were confirmed by Red Wire, with a shrug she added, “Most nopony has seen the Crown’s members, those assholes almost never leave the Sky Palace and ponies don’t try to bother them unless they want to have a date with the Royal Guard.”

We walked in the silence of early morning for a while, the only sound was the wailing of the wind in metal pipes somewhere amongst the rubbish and some occasional distant roar of machinery. I wondered what kind of industry could exist in a such place. I saw columns of smoke rising from the pipes of huge buildings and a heat haze in the distance, but I couldn't tell their function by glance. During the war I had spend all my time in the research facility and wasn't able to witness the rise of equestrian heavy industry, so I was totally unfamiliar with any of it. My musings were interrupted by Red Wire's question.

"You probably want to know about the Purists, dontcha?" With a long sigh, Wire asked her friend as well, with irritation in her voice. "Couldn't you just put a some sort of memory crystal inside her?"

"First of all, that’s not how it works. Second - the TCE holds memory crystals for equinoids tighter than Orange Grime and our food rations. We have to teach her everything," Flower answered calmly.

"For fuck's sake..." Wire rolled her eyes. Upon noticing me stare daggers at her, she stammered. "Yeah, hehe... Ahem... So! The Purists!" She began to stammer and fidget, embarrassed with her outburst and failing to notice a metal pole protruding from the ground. The horizontal beam caught her hoof, but before Wire met dirt with a muzzle, Tin Flower had caught her friend, I had tried to catch her too, but my movements were still too slow and sloppy.

“You better be careful, Wire, if you don’t want to be left with only a crystal eye,” said Flower, steadying the slightly disheveled unicorn filly.

Without a word Red Wire cantered ahead of us, silently fuming, looking angry at the whole world. After a few steps she turned her head back and grumbled “Thanks”, not looking at any of us in particular and continued her disgruntled walk.

“Well, I guess it now falls on my shoulders to tell you about the Purists, eh?” Tin Flower wrinkled her nose. “Though, I don’t know as much about them as Wire, I’ll try to do my best.”

She hopped over another one of the trap-like metal poles and landed with an audible clank - her metal hoof hit some metal part half-buried in ground. For a very brief moment she inspected her artificial limb and after a sigh began to tell me about the political powers in Canterlot. "It is a bit complicated... There are three groups of ponies who don't use any prosthetics at all and keep only the most talented ponies in their ranks... well, except for pegasi. The Purists refuse to install any prosthetics at all to completely avoid Transference Paradox and practice their magic at fullest, in turn, it allows them to do stuff nopony else is able to do like controlling weather, growing food or really fancy magic."

We rounded a corner and were greeted by more endless tall piles of metal scrap. I froze in a mix of shock and fear - a metal skeleton of gargantuan proportions materialized before us. Without missing a beat, the little fillies entered a cavity formed within the ribs of the macabre remains. With sudden realisation it came to me that these were not the bones of a dragon-sized creature, but a rusted and severely deformed frame belonging to some sort of a machine.

“Twilight, are you coming?” Came Flower’s voice from within of enormous shell.

“Ah… yes.” Even though I knew that it was just a framework of a pony-made contraption, I still felt uneasy in its vicinity. Steeling myself, I followed the girls and entered twisted hull.

It wasn’t as big inside as I expected, and resembled a train cart, but not like those from my past. Albeit being nothing but a wreckage, it still looked more modern and advanced than any train I ever saw. The interior appeared to be completely ruined, not by merciless passage of time, but by some purposeful yet destructive force. And all of the surfaces were covered with thick layer of rust, of course.

“What is… was this machine?” I meekly asked wondering about the purpose of this engineering marvel, while walking a few steps behind Tin Flower.

“One of the subway train carts from very old times. Still holds together, even after an explosion.” Almost wistfully she added, “Stuff is built from fuck knows how many times recycled steel back then.”

Throwing upon her choice of words I inquired. “What is a subway? Is it some kind of railroad?” Seems like I wasn’t very far from truth with my first guess.

“You could say so. It was a very fast underground railroad network, but it doesn’t exist anymore. I mean, the tunnels which didn’t collapse are still there, but after the Pink Butterflies decided to blow the subway to smithereens, not a single train cart was left intact. Most of them were salvaged from the debris and sent here for recycling, they were made from the best steel after all. There is a rumor, that none of the carts had their power cores inside the engines when their remains were brought to the surface - it’s a big deal, those things were huge crystals, some of the biggest around. They weren’t shattered or anything, just gone, every one of them, without a trace.” She turned to me, but looked above my head. “I made my hoof from one of these.” With her last words she pointed up, and following her direction I saw a girder which looked pretty much like anything else around us, except that on the one of it’s ends had been cut clearly and had less rust on it.

My eyes returned to Tin Flower, her artificial limb in particular, and it all clicked in my head. This whole sector wasn’t just a scrapyard - it was an enormous recycling facility. I was going to confirm my guess with a question when the earth pony filly decided to continue educating me about the Purists.

"So... there are unicorns sitting in their floating towers, enchanting crystals and blowing shit up all the time. They are the most insane and upstuck of all the Purists. They call themselves Arcane Nou… Nukes..."

“Noxiae,” I finished for her. “Arcana Noxiae was one the oldest mages’ organizations in pony history, predating even the Princesses age. It means “secret lodge” and it was organized by the most upper-class and influential mages, but it broke up when Equestria was founded.”

She shook her head at my words. "You are not far from the truth, they do think themselves as the most elite ponies in Canterlot and are jerks to everypony. The thing is, since those unicorns are the only ones who can enchant gems and put a protective shield over the city during winter, those horned assholes can afford being like that. As far as I know, the TCE and the Crown hate them, but can't really do anything." Unlike Wire, she was totally ignoring my displeasure with her choice of words, no matter how hard I glared at her.

We exited the cart’s remains a while ago and were now trotting by a relatively clear path, Red Wire was still ahead of us, albeit she didn’t look angry anymore, at least, not more than usual. Fortunately, she wasn’t almost galloping like before, allowing Tin Flower to walk at a pace comfortable enough to talk with me.

"The earth pony Purists work with the TCE at the hydroponic gardens, growing food for the whole city. There is not much to tell actually, they are very close allies with the TCE, getting rather fair treatment at the Gardens. Other ponies, who aren’t so fortunate, usually don't last there for more than a decade or two." With a shrug of her shoulders she added, "Never wanted to join them, not like I have a chance anymore". I gave her steel leg a glance, but she seemed absolutely comfortable with her artificial limb. How long ago was she injured, I wondered. Unaware of my musings about her life's story, the earth pony filly continued to lecture me.

"And the pegasi are the most chill guys. They don't really care for prosthetics or talent. They work at the Thunderspires, producing electricity from storm clouds for the whole city and welcome everypony who is willing to do this job. Of course, any pegasus who doesn't have feathers for their brains understands a danger of going inside a raging thunderstorm with metal parts stuck to their body. Though there are rumors about ‘lighting wranglers’... but it's just a urban legend." She furrowed her brows for a moment gathering her thoughts. "Actually, they don't even distinguish "pure" ponies amongst themselves, just a bunch of pegasi living together in their fog nests around the Spires."

We walked around another train cart’s remains, this one looking a bit different, more like a common train. Though it still looked like somepony exploded a bomb inside, albeit with more success. Ahead of us I saw a dim orange light in a distant shack - Red Wire’s eye lit up as she begun to trot slightly faster.

With a sigh Tin Flower concluded her lecture. “Each group of the Purists thinks they are the most important and thus should be more privileged and given full control of the city, but none of them care about the common ponies.”

“Sounds like the tribalism conflict of pre-Princess era all over again. The unicorns even call themselves Arcana Noxiae…” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. What had happened to Equestria? It didn’t feel like five hundred years into the future, more like one thousand and five hundred years to the past... how could ponies fall so low?

“Huh? What’s a tribalism? I heard something like this near one of the brothels once…” Tin Flower responded to my apparently not so quiet muttering. Cringing at the mention of the brothels I asked her back.

“Wait... have you never heard a story of origins of Equestria? It a story every parent tells to their foals!” I exclaimed in disbelief and glanced at the little mechanic.

I couldn’t feel pain with my metal and plastic body, but the look Tin Flower gave me was like getting hit in the face with an anvil. I should have guessed, now thinking of it, this was rather obvious. Before I could say anything to try and fix this horrible situation, I all but slammed into Red Wire.

“Shit! Twilight, look where you are going! Or did that criminal put food scanners where your eyes should be?” She steadied herself with a huff and added, “Anyway, we are at my place. Wait here, I’ll be back in a a few minutes.”

Red Wire galloped away to her family’s dwelling, while I stood there I was completely petrified, thinking of what I should say to make things right. I could start with a simple “sorry”, I suppose…

With a very deep sigh Tin Flower beat me to it. “Don’t sweat it, Twilight.” She paused and I glanced at her - the little filly’s face bore a forlorn look. “It is a delicate subject here. Ponies don’t live long lives in the Edge. And nopony likes to be reminded of that,” she solemnly finished, sitting on the ground with her shoulders slumped. After another sad sigh she shook herself and perked up a little, looking around.

“We should take a cover.” She motioned her head in a direction of a half-rotten metal cistern. “This is a rather calm part of the sector, but let’s not take our chances.”

I walked into our rusty hideaway, crouching under a jagged hole in the metal wall, and sat beside Tin Flower as we both faced Red Wire’s house. It even had a glass in a window frame, though it was so dirty with soot, that I could barely see a trembling flame inside and the occasional movement of a little unicorn silhouette.

“Usually it’s either accidents or terrorist attacks. Red Wire lost her father in the same accident I lost my parents. There is no evidence, but she believes it was the Pink Butterflies.” Tin Flower shifted in her place, light from Wire’s hut reflecting in her wavering eyes, giving them look of freshly welded steel. “Hard to blame her, she had already diffused one of their bombs once at that factory. Folks even started gave her name “Red Wire” after that, her actual name is Geode Gleam.”

“I’m so sorry…” Was all I could squeeze out of myself. This was truly horrible, much more than any issues in modern Equestria. She only shook her head.

“Wire has it really hard. First her family was deported from the Outer City, then she lost her father and eye…she had a hoped of joining the horned Purists once, you know, she was very good at magic. And then she lost her brother during that winter.” She paused, her expression unreadable. “She lives now with her older sister and blind mother. Roche Dust lost her eyes and Hollow Druse had her hind legs torn off in that damned explosion. Sometimes it feels like I’m luckier than her.”

Two full families were thrown into the grinder of the Edge and out came four forever mangled ponies with their lives on the chopping block of heavy industry, given no choice but to suffer in hunger and injustice in this prison of rejected metal. This was not Equestria, this was worse than Tartarus itself.

Though, something didn’t quite make sense to me - if I could, I would have furrowed my brows. “Why is her mother blind?” Tin Flower gave me a blank look. “I mean, Red Wire has an artificial eye, why couldn’t her mother get a prosthesis as well?” Seeing even little filles with such a complex prosthetics made me think that they were rather common.

“Wire’s folks could afford only one “crystal eye”, and only through Hollow Druse’s connections with stripes. Such eyes are special, each handcrafted by a skilled unicorn and not from just any gem. Druse made one for Red Wire, it was before she lost her hind legs and became unable to use magic anymore, at least not as well as before,” Tin Flower answered. But now I had trouble understanding the reasons behind the distribution of prosthetics.

“But why didn’t her mother have it? It’s better to have one eye than be completely blind, right?” Life with an one eye for both adult mare and filly would be hard, but it was still better than to be home-ridden for the rest of life, or at least as I thought so.

“Miss Dust already had a few prosthetics, and one more, especially so deep integrated, would surely make the Transference Paradox claim her - she would start losing her memories,” Tin Flower said in a grievous tone. “And don’t think that blindness was the only injury miss Dust received back then. She shielded Wire from shrapnel with her body, so I doubt she will be able to work even with two eyes.

It made sense, more or less. It was obvious now, that gem-cuttery and bionics had radically changed since my time, to the point that I had very little understanding of even the basics of new technologies. Moondancer and I were once prodigies in that field...

“Who are these “Pink Butterflies”? You’ve mentioned them before, are they another major organization in Canterlot?” I finally asked the question that had been nagging me for a while.

“Stupid crazy fucks, that’s who. And don’t give me that look, Twilight.” Flower met my glare with defiant expression. “They have no power in Canterlot, Pink Butterflies are the group of eco-terrorists from the Everfree who despise any technology. Butterflies don’t mind using bombs, though, and these crazies are quite generous then it comes to explosives.” The little mechanic scowled in disdain and added, “They mostly target Canterlot, but sometimes they remember about us too.”

The moment I thought it couldn’t get any worse, this strange new world managed to unpleasantly surprise me with some new atrocity. Absentmindedly, I thought that it was a weird choice of name for a group of ponies known for such a gruesome activity.

“Why doesn’t the Crown or the police do anything about them?” I asked Tin Flower while we were still sitting in wait for Red Wire to return.

“Because they don’t give a fuck?” She scoffed. “In the city, police prevent as much terrorism as they can, but here in the the Edge, it is in our hooves.” She paused for a moment, furrowing her brows in thought. “Butterflies are based in a some kind of old fortress in the heart of the Everfree Forest, so it’s hard to get them. Although it’s not like the Royal Guard tried even once.”

“The Castle of Royal Sisters… the very place where Princess Luna was banished to the Moon and cleansed of Nightmare Moon’s taint one thousand years later,” I recalled. It felt like it happened in another life, and from some perspective, it did.

“Nightmare Moon? Who was she, some kind of warlock, like the Ebony one?” Tin Flower reacted to my reminiscence with a question “Were you at a war with her too?”

“Not exactly. My friends and I were the ones who confronted her in that very castle.” I sighed, awash with a strong sense of nostalgia. Those were simpler times, the Elements worked, and she still was there. “I knew all the Princesses personally back then,” I finished, banishing the sad thoughts. I didn’t need to lose control over my emotions right now.

“Wow, that’s really impressive.” Tim Flower looked at me with newfound respect. With a smirk she added. “Looks like you have some stories to tell as well.”

Thinking about the Princesses made me realize that I still didn’t know anything about their fates, also there was one very important issue directly connected to the absence of the demi-goddesses.

“What happened to Princess Luna and Princess Cadence? And if you say that there are no princesses anymore, then who raises the Sun and the Moon?” I bet it was the Arcana Noxiae, considering how similar they were to the first iteration of this organization and that they had the most powerful unicorns amongst their ranks.

“Ummm… you better ask Wire, cos I only heard about Luna from some old mare tale when I was a little foal, and only that she used to raise the Moon during the Age of the Princesses. And speaking of that, it’s now done by some of the Crown’s mages. A super powerful magic amplifier is used for that or something,” Tin Flower answered uncertainty with a shrug.

At last Red Wire appeared from her family's house, a folded glistening cloth on her back and two small bundles dangling in her teeth. She carefully closed the door behind her with telekinesis and trotted in our direction.

“Oh, by the way, don’t call her Geode Gleam, she doesn’t like that,” Whispered Tin Flower.

“But why?” I saw no reasons for Red Wire to dislike her real name, it was no less fitting.

“Shhh!” Hushed Tin Flower as her friend got closer.

The scarlet maned unicorn came closer to us and I could see that one the bundles in her mouth was a canteen in a cloth casing swinging back and forth on a short belt. The other, bigger bundle, was some item wrapped in oily paper. Upon reaching us she took the flask and unfurled the package with her magic - inside was a thick tuffet of thin, sickly looking, strange mushrooms.

“My sister brought fresh shrooms from stripes yesterday. Want some, Flower?” She divided them with a golden glow of telekinesis and offered half of the bunch to the little mechanic. Wait, what? Are they going to eat them?

“Are these like the shrooms from that one time?” She sniffed them with a visible mistrust. “I don’t want to feel all funny and have weird dreams again.” Goddesses, they are actually going to eat them...

“Nah, stripes just gave her the wrong ones the last time, these are fine, I’m sure. We better have something before we go to the Outer City.” Wire floated the canteen with her magic towards Flower. “I’ve also got some fresh water from the filters.”

Tin Flower finally finished examining the mushrooms, took the canteen in her hooves and took a sip from it. “I miss mold, too bad it all died last winter. That stuff was tasty at least…”

“Nah, it tasted like a dirt,” Retorted Wire. “Does it mean I can eat yours?” She floated bunch of shrooms towards herself a bit with a smile.

“Of course not! Gimme, I haven’t eaten in a three days.” Flower snatched the fungal sprouts from a golden glow and dug into them as if they were ambrosia.

The girls sat there, silently munching on their miserable meal. At this point I wasn’t even surprised that these fillies considered the mushrooms a food and the mold a delicacy. I stood a bit lost in what to do or say then a thought occurred to me.

“Do I need to eat or… be charged?” I asked none of them in particular. The idea of a cable being plugged into me didn’t sound appealing, to be honest.

“Nope. Equinoids don’t eat,” answered Red Wire, Tin Flower was too preoccupied with devouring her share of food to answer. “You don’t even need your power cores to be recharged for quite a while, they are brimming with magic.” She shook her head and sipped from the canteen. “Heh, whoever enchanted them was a helluva sorcerer.”

“Um, it was... me?” I sheepishly said, and received raised eyebrow in return from the red maned filly. Truth be told, I didn’t know I poured that much magic into my recording enchantment, and couldn’t tell if I should be thankful for doing it. “I was Bearer of the Element of Magic, after all.”

“Were those some kind of powerful artefacts? We can use a bit of strong magic here, heh.” Joked the Wire. Looks like food and a visit home improved her mood, I wished I could share it with her.

“They don’t work anymore,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering while Red Wire began to wrap back her remaining part of the mushrooms for later.

“Huh. Why’s that?” She tilted her head, oblivious to torrent of emotions inside of me.

“I don’t know.” I did. ”They stopped working when Sombra emerged,” I answered in a hollow voice.

“Maybe it was some of his curses.” She shrugged, binding her bundle with a string.

It wasn’t - I knew better. The truth lashed my mind like a whip, but I remained silent. I sat there fighting with my memories and emotions, trying to suppress them - I needed to stay focused.

“Well, we should get moving,” Red Wire said, putting the canteen and the packed mushrooms in a tiny saddlebag hidden under her rugs before standing up. “Stop stuffing yourself with food, you are worse than Orange Grime!” She yelled at Tin Flower, who was still shoving hoof-fuls of the shrooms in her muzzle.

“Fufh off!” Mumbled Flower with a full mouth. ”Anf gife me feh fanteen.” She pointed at Wire’s saddlebag with her hoof.

Red Wire rolled her eyes and flung her friend the flask. “Try not to choke on it, believe or not I like you alive more.” She turned to me. “She will catch up, let’s go, Twilight.”

We moved in silence for quite a while. Despite my curiosity, I didn’t want to ask any more questions, at least for now, to give the girls some rest. Additionally, when Flower caught up with us, Red Wire commented that we still had a lot of ground to cover and had to speed up, so now we all were trotting at a brisk pace, a bit too fast for a comfortable conversation judging by the short legged mechanic’s huffs. Anyway, I had enough new knowledge to digest.

Modern Equestria was so different from what I remembered, but it was a logical outcome, after all. Five hundred years had passed, and the war pushed our limits back then, so we had a few outstanding breakthroughs in science and magic. Also, the emergence of the Crystal Empire brought back some long lost technologies and spells as well. I didn’t give much thought about the future back in my time, or at least about the distant one - we all were much more concerned with the war. However, I sure didn’t expect Equestria to not just stop progressing, but to degrade so horribly over a half of millenia. Yes, modern ponies had access to quite a lot of advanced prosthetics, even more refined than she thought possible; they were building astounding cities and even... creating artificial life forms. Though, I wasn’t entirely sure if that actually was a good thing.

Yet, the quality of life had suffered greatly - the so called “Edge” was an ironic name for an enormous area dedicated to not being a frontier of technology, but rather working ponies to a death. Canterlot was stagnating in corruption and at the same time torn apart by nothing more than a barbaric tribalist conflict, an echo of a dark era long gone. And something was telling me that most of those “advanced” technologies weren’t actually that progressive - judging by our pace and progress in the research of bionics, we would had artificial limbs and organs developed in a few decades after the war. I couldn’t understand how all these amazing technologies brought only decadence to pony nation, driving it apart where it should have been prosperous.

I now understood how Princess Luna was feeling when she returned from her banishment, but for her Equestria was just unfamiliar and strange - for me it was horrifying and even repulsive. And what happened to her? What happened to Cadence? From Tin Flower it sounded like they were not only gone from this world, but almost forgotten. Although it was hard, I could try and understand the regress of pony race. However the memories of the Princesses, the living demi-goddesses who once walked amongst us… just gone? I couldn’t comprehend that - not only ponies, but zebras, griffins, rams and almost any other sentient creature knew and revered the Princesses, even the proud dragons. Now, it seemed like Sombra was remembered better than the greatest creatures who ever existed. It was depressing.

Speaking of depressing - as we walked, the scenery around us started to gradually change. Piles of a metal scrap began to thin out from our winding path, they became lower and more rusty - the ground beneath our hooves was distinctly orange from an abundance of iron oxide. I could only guess, but most likely all this scrap-iron was very, very old, maybe from the times when the recycling sector was just founded. Though I couldn’t feel wind, I was able to hear the air whistling in the metal pipes, playing erie tunes through corroded holes. With every gust, I could see flakes of rust torn from ancient remains, dancing around us as if wondering why we dared to disturb this ossuary of decaying iron bones.

While I couldn’t say I was feeling comfortable in this grim place, at least I didn’t have as much trouble as the girls did - a while ago they covered their muzzles with cloth masks and were now squinting from all the dust and rust flung at them by the wind. Sometimes, I could see the stronger gusts of wind threatening to kick the lightweight fillies hooves out from under them. After passing another unremarkable pile of junk, they abruptly stopped.

“We have to put on the protective suits if we want to go further!” Yelled Red Wire over the howl of wind. She passed one of the folded protective suits off her back to Tin Flower, who took it with silent nod.

We all took shelter from the unwelcoming weather in the remains of some kind machine hull, so corroded that I couldn’t even remotely tell what it once was. I could hear the wind whistling through tears in the metal carcass and flakes of rust bombarding the thin wall between us and the tempest outside.

“Flower, will Twilight be alright without the suit?” Asked Wire while putting on the protective gear herself, it’s once brightly colored rubber cloth now faded and worn. The environmental suit looked slightly familiar - I never had need of one of those, but I knew that we had departments in the RCRC where ponies were spending day after day clad in chemical protection, studying toxic substances.

Tin Flower, who was doing the same, gave me a critical glance, examining me.

“She will be alright, but we shouldn’t stay for too long near the Dump or stray from the borders.” With a nod Flower put her gas mask on. “Let’s do it quick, it’s all itchy inside and smells of unicorns.” Needless to say, the suits were adult-sized, so they were awkwardly sagging from the fillies in a lot of places, though it seemed they weren’t very bothered by it. I wondered if it wasn’t the first time they had to wear protection from hazardous materials or environments.

“Hey!” Came a muffled yell from Wire, who had already put the gas mask on her muzzle. But before the angry unicorn could add something, Tin Flower dashed outside by her friend with a snort. The offended filly gave me a glance, looking rather strange with the one of her mask lenses bulging and glowing because of the artificial eye underneath. I only shrugged in answer, Red Wire rolled her eye and we came outside.

Just as before, we walked in silence, now because of the loud howling wind and the gas masks muffling the fillies’ voices. The girls were obviously struggling with wading through the dust storm around us, and even I was starting to feel the sheer force of the wind trying to push me. We turned at a pile of scrap-iron and suddenly, there were no more rusty heaps ahead of us - the Toxic Dump laid before my eyes.

Saying that it was bleak and depressing would had been a compliment for this vast expanse of desolate land. As far as I could see in the raging storm, it was a barren desert, occasionally gleaming with rainbow stains of oil, alloys and various chemicals amongst charred, acid burned dirt. For hundreds of years recycling facilities were dumping slag and toxic waste, poisoning the once fertile soil of Equestria to the point that even air above it became dangerous. What a bright future we had, brought unto us by progress and technology. Even war wasn’t capable of doing this.

We didn’t stop for long, and the fillies instantly rushed to some sort of pillar that was pulsing with a bright light through the torrents of dust. With one more glance on the apocalyptic looking landscape, I followed them.

Surprisingly, up close, this strange construction didn’t look as rusted and decayed as I expected it to be and it seemed like the storm wasn’t that bad near the pillar. The contraption had a rather simple design - a tangle of metal girders made only to serve as a pedestal for a large, slowly pulsing crystal. Unable to hold my curiosity any longer I asked the fillies, who huddled near the foot of the structure, resting from the battle with the tempest and the heavy suits of protective gear.

“What is this thing?” I asked examining the glowing gem. It was size of a pony head, emitting a steady, teal light and pulsing with bright, but not blinding, flashes in even intervals.

“One of the beacons of Arcana Noxiae,” Red Wire stated, who unlike Tin Flower, had already partly recovered. “They mark the outside border of the Edge.” With those words she pointed in the distance. After a moment I saw the identical lights blinking through the storm further away. “They are enchanted to hold back the storms and serve as reinforcing points for the magical shield. And don’t touch it, beacons are cursed to kill anypony who decides they are smart enough to lay a hoof on Noxiae’s stuff.” I instantly jerked my extremities from the shiny gem - I had no intention of finding if the curse worked on equinoids as well.

To shield Canterlot from what? And why didn’t pegasi do anything about the storms? I sighed internally - here we go again, I can’t understand a thing. At least Wire’s curt explanation answered my question why nopony still hadn’t taken the valuable looking gems away. Tin Flower, who had recovered, noticed my confusion and once again decided to take on the mantle of teacher and educate me.

“The weather is not like it was in your times, Twilight, and ponies say it gets worse every year.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, though it was hard to tell her expression under the gas mask. “Some say it’s cos of pegasi and the Thunderspires, some say it is the last of Sombra’s curse. Others even think it is a magical storm created by the rams from the north. Anyway, it sucks, because it’s cold all the time and each winter we pray for the shield to hold on.”

Even under the dirty lenses of the gas masks I could see Tin Flower’s gaze harden and Red Wire’s eye glistening with moisture. With a shake of her head, the little mechanic continued to talk, looking on the ground in front of herself with empty eyes. “A couple of winters ago Pinks came up with a great idea to blow up all the beacons in one the sectors, can’t remember which one. The horned Purists of course didn’t expect that to happen and the magic shield generator winked out for seventeen days from a backlash.” She gulped and in a hollow voice she carried on with her story. “It was enough to kill over half of the population of the Edge with the cold, it was freezing even in the smelters…” I heard Red Wire quietly sob. “The TCE’s Gardens took the biggest hit, they still haven’t recovered. A lot of ponies died from hunger the next year.” She looked at me, and our eyes met, hers were round with horror and looked haunted. “I will never forget the howl of the wind back then, it sounded like it was alive… and wanted all of us dead.”

I couldn’t bear it anymore, I approached them and after a moment of hesitation hugged the shivering fillies carefully, trying to shield the girls from the merciless, piercing winds. To my surprise, they accepted my embrace readily, taking shelter from storm in the cover of my metal body and cloak. We sat like this for a few minutes. However, this precious moment couldn’t last forever - we had yet to traverse through the rest of bordering territory and the whole of Nebula’s sector.

We moved quickly and silently, in short rushes from the one beacon to another, all the time I was providing cover from battering winds with my senseless body, be it a fast trot between the enchanted pillars or a momentary rest under them.

Finally, we made out to what seemed to be a border between the sectors and entered a familiar maze of rusted scrap-iron. With the storm raging and toxic winds left behind us, the fillies took cover inside the remains of another ancient and half-rotted machine in order to take off their environmental suits. I followed them inside to with a couple questions on my mind.

“Why didn’t we go to Nebula’s sector from the Toxic Dump, and why do we need to use tunnels? Can’t we just cross the border? Is it guarded?” I unleashed the barrage of questions on the disheveled fillies who just got out of their suits.

“Hold your horses, Twilight, not so many questions,” Grumbled Red Wire, pulling out the canteen and mushrooms from her saddlebag.

“It’s not a good idea to cross the borders out of nowhere, gangs do not like it, so we have to use the tunnels if we don’t want any problems. The same goes to coming from the Dump side,” Answered Tin Flower, who was folding the suits.

“Yup, what she said,” Commented Wire as she offered the canteen and a tuft of the shrooms to her friend. They both sat munching on their meager meal, finishing the remaining supply.

After a quick respite we all emerged from our improvised shelter, the girls stretching their limbs. I moved my hooves and heard joints squeaking - albeit I was made from metal now, the Toxic Dump took a toll even on me, I should ask the Tin Flower to take a look later. Recalling in my memory the view of the Edge, we still had a long walk ahead of us, but at least it wasn’t through the dust storm anymore.

“If we keep this pace, we will make it to the Outer City before the dark,” Said Red Wire, looking in the direction of Canterlot, it’s tall buildings visible even from here.

“And why do you little shits need to go to the city, huh?” A deep voice asked from behind the nearest pile of scrap. A moment later three large stallions emerged, a unicorn and two earth ponies, metal and muscle bulging menacingly under their tight armors, two hornless ponies at the back holding a sledgehammer and a huge wrench in their mouths. In the front was the unicorn, the biggest of them, he had something resembling a stubby pistol on a belt, dangling across his shoulders.

We stood frozen in place, look of pure horror plastered over the filles’ faces. The huge unicorn stallion lazily looked around and his eyes fell on me. He squinted with malice.

“And what have we here?”

I didn’t need to know everything to guess who they were. These stallions didn’t look like just anypony from this sector - they were obviously members of the gang. These thugs had a militaristic look, intimidating and confident, but not in the same way as soldiers - I could tell, my brother was a general after all, he and his battle comrades had an air of safety and reliance around them, not like the threatening presence of these gang members - ponies who indeed looked like criminals justly exiled from a civilized society.

None of them were devoid of prosthetics - I wondered if everypony in this city, except for the Purists, had at least one part of a body replaced with an artificial counterpart. Unlike Tin Flower’s simple foreleg or my rusty appendages, their surrogates appeared to be more of a direct augmentation than anything else. One of the stallions at the back - the sledgehammer wielding earth pony - was sporting two artificial forelimbs, covered with thick steel armor plates. The pony on his right had a metal jaw, and both of his eyes were covered with a glowing visor embedded in the skull, wires and tubes connecting both prosthetics with the back of his head. Their leader, the biggest unicorn I had ever seen, almost the size of Big Macintosh, didn’t seem to have any limbs replaced, but deep scars, occasional tubes and ports on a visible surface of his body were telling that he, most probably, had his organs replaced with synthetic ones. I didn’t know if it was a prosthesis, an adornment or something else, but this unicorn’s horn was covered in a metal contraption glowing with crystal panels, expanding it’s length drastically.

All three ponies wore armours made of metal plates and… leather. I didn’t want to know where from did they get that rare and controversial material, or at least as it was so back in my time. I wouldn’t be surprised if over the centuries leather had become something more common - such a change of mentality would fit perfectly in modern Equestria. Their steel breastplates were colored black with a bright orange smear across - probably a sign of affiliation to the gang leader - Orange Grime.

The gun wielding brute briefly examined me and with a furious glare turned to the girls who had been slowly trying to move back.

“It’s a custom made tinhead!” He pointed his weapon in my direction, while yelling at the fillies. “If the police finds out, the whole sector is going to eat shit because of you two degenerates!” With those words he spat on the ground. His two companions tensed and prepared their improvised weapons.

I stood paralyzed, my eyes jumping between the thugs and the girls, having no idea what to do. It was obvious that we had no chance to run away from them, not only we had nowhere to escape - with the Toxic Dump right behind us - but unlike the girls, these brutal stallions looked very well fed nor were they as tired as Wire and Flower who had been struggling through a violent weather for the last hour. There was the another alternative, of course, which was as much more dangerous so I wanted to avoid it. The situation looked completely hopeless. I could have tried to buy some time for the fillies to escape, but it was just as risky as any other option, and something was telling me that even if Wire and Flower could manage to run away, it wouldn’t save them from being found later and dealt with.

“Grab these dipshits, we are taking them to Orange Grime, he will decide what to do.” The large unicorn barked to his companions over his shoulder. The two large ponies instantly moved to strangle the girls. While Tin Flower, without any enthusiasm in her eyes succumbed to her fate, the other stallion was met with furious resistance from the little unicorn.

“Leggo, you asshole!” Red Wire tried to fight back , kicking and biting in desperation.

Holding the little filly by the neck with steel forelegs so hard that plates on his limbs dug deeply in her skin, the stallion loudly whispered in Wire’s ear with a vile smirk. “If you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut, horned cunt, I have something to fill it with.” Upon hearing that, all the color drained from Red Wire’s face and she instantly went limp in the iron grip of the thug in surrender, tears flowing from her eye.

I had to do something! This was going too far… but what could I do? I had no hope of defeating this trio of, no doubts, experienced in combat stallions, not with this body, which I still had trouble to control. If I had magic I would have a chance. Maybe if I tried to get the gun from this unicorn...

“What are we gonna do with the tinhead?” Asked the stallion with the metal forelegs, nodding in my direction; Red Wire choking in the vice hold of the thug while Tin Flower silently tensed in the clutches of the steel-jaw pony.

The huge unicorn lazily shifting his grim gaze to me and said, “I’ll take care of it.” With a thunderous snap, he racked the bolt of his gun.

“Nooo!” Screamed Tin Flower. With a jerk she freed herself from the grasp of the brute’s hooves and tried to dash to me, but without even looking in her direction, with one swift movement of a heavy hoof the unicorn thug punched her in the jaw and sent the filly flying through the air. She landed heavily on her side, still conscious, but stunned. With blood trickling out from under her eye. Flower tried to stand up, but fell back to the ground, the little mechanic’s teeth clenched while blood mixed with tears. Scoffing, the huge unicorn turned to me and pointed the barrel at my face. I never had thought about such a thing as my death before, but this surely wasn’t the way I expected to go. Though, it suited this wretched world. I might still have doubts about being the real Twilight Sparkle, but I didn’t want to die, not like this. The most horrible thing was that I couldn’t even close my eyes, but rather only wait for my demise. I just waited for the flower of death to blossom from the pitch black hollowness of a gun barrel’s abyss. Who knows, maybe it is all a nightmare and I’ll wake up on the table of my lab in realEquestria…

Something whistled sharply near my ear as the unicorn’s head exploded, a shower of blood, brains and bone shards covered my face, painting the whole world red. Through a crimson haze I saw how for a moment the still alive thugs froze in their places, before their leaders decapitated body fell on the ground, they scattered, the steel legged stallion wildly cursing.

The fillies and I stood paralyzed, not moving a muscle while trying to comprehend what just had happened. The remains of the thug’s head slowly slide from my metal features and fell on the ground with a disgusting wet noise. I was so glad right now that I didn’t have a stomach, because I would have been turned inside out otherwise.

I rushed to the injured Tin Flower, who was still lying on the ground, at the same moment saw a movement behind one of the scrap piles in front of me. Without warning, a hooded figure appeared before us. Before the cloaked pony had removed her headwear I saw a pair of polished metal wings, half hidden in rugs, covering the body of this mysterious pegasus. And as curious as her wings were, there was also the object on her side - a long coil covered metal pipe affixed to a simple saddle - I had a suspicion that it had something to do with the contents of the deceased unicorn’s skull covering my face.

“Pepper Mercury!” Exclaimed Tin Flower. Her and Wire’s faces stretching into smiles, a spark of hope igniting in their eyes. Apparently they knew who my saviour was.

Without saying a word or offering a single glance, Pepper Mercury flapped her wings, rust and dirt rising as she took off. She leaped to the headless body of my almost executioner and swiftly picked up the fallen gun, shoving it under one of her metal wings.

With an unreadable expression she turned to us, pointed the contraption on her side in our direction and in calm voice said:

“Y’all are coming with me.”

Author's Notes:

It is finally here, one month later from that was planned, and, I'm really sorry for that. Such a delay was caused by the sudden change of the editing team, as you may have noticed. Now everything is fine, and soon we will begin our work on the 3rd chapter (which is already finished), and hopefully it will take not much longer than one month. And I'm writing the 4th chapter as well.

Also, Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
Don't be shy and check it out!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

And the last:
I invite you to join Aftersound Project discord server where you can chat with Geka and I, discuss the story, get to see announcements, little snippets of the future chapters and new illustrations.
https://discord.gg/R5Ky8K4

Chapter 3 – From a frying pan

Once again, we walked. This time, however, our procession followed not the roundabout path from the extensive knowledge of the two little fillies, but the more direct route chosen by the pegasus named Pepper Mercury. Apparently, both Tin Flower and Red Wire knew her, and judging by their confused glances at each other, didn’t expect the silent treatment and a gun barrel pointed at them. Nevertheless, the little fillies followed the steel winged pony without any complaints and didn’t look actually frightened, just perplexed.

Wings made out of metal… Moonie and I spent weeks, no, months, trying to create a pair of the artificial ones, it actually was our original plan to equip the equestrian army with the detachable metal appendages. Thus making every soldier airborne, giving all of them that only and very limited advantage we had. But after dozens of crystals with different enchantments, all of them failed. Even after the countless calculations being so close to resolving the secret of flight. After sleepless nights and restless days – we gave up on this idea and began a new project… the last one I remember. There was something about the way the pegasi soared in the skies – it wasn’t just wings, there was some kind of very subtle magic, primal and yet way too intricate to recreate back then. I wondered if it was Moondancer who somehow managed to crack that mystery in the end and who made the first pair of the artificial wings.

Those taunting steel appendages were the only prominent feature of the young pegasus mare, who looked rather unremarkable from a first glance. Just like Flower or Wire, Pepper Mercury looked small. However she seemed more mature and wasn’t as scrawny, yet she wasn’t as fed as the thugs who assaulted us earlier on. Her green coat resembled a military uniform, faded olive and dirty. Not at the atrocious level of dirtiness as Flower’s, of course. Her mane was an explosion of dull red, ungroomed hair that stood in stark contrast to her eyes – the deep pools of emerald shined with determination and intrepidity of somepony who was ready to fight the whole world. If not for the metal wings, she could be taken for a common filly from my time, except for her cutie mark – a crimson heart pierced by a dagger. It’s blade coming as drops of metal, quicksilver, from the other side. What could it mean? I had no idea.

As we trotted down our path, which was much wider and straighter than any road we had followed before, I could see some huts that looked habitable. Some even looked inhabited, however we had yet to meet anypony. Apparently at this time of day the denizens of the sector were either sleeping after a previous night shift or had long left for the day one. Occasional movement of the dark silhouettes behind the soot stained windows was the only evidence of any living beings.

All of a sudden, without saying a single word, Mercury rocketed into the sky with a loud metallic clang, leaving a billowing cloud of dust behind her. We all stopped in our tracks, the fillies coughing on the floating rust as they looked at the pegasus hovering in the air – she appeared to be watching for something in the distance. Through the coughing fit Red Wire spoke to me:

“She is usually more talkative and doesn’t point her gun at ponies, but we will be fine, I’m sure.” Though the young unicorn looked and sounded completely recovered from our encounter with Grime’s goons, her neck had still carried a noticeable red mark where the stallion’s hooves dug in her skin.

“But who is she?” I inquired to none of them in a particular, keeping my eyes on the armed figure in the sky. She paid us no attention, visibly scanning our surroundings – most probably looking for any patrols.

“Mercury is Dross Rain’s daughter, um, he is a sort of our unofficial leader. I help her with the wings from time to time. She is cool,” Answered Tin Flower, who just finished hacking her lungs out. Just like Wire, Flower seemed to have recover from the confrontation, though her right eye was a bit swollen. At least there was no bleeding from the cut on the little mechanic’s cheek. Overall, she looked better than I expected from a filly who took a hit in the head with an armored metal hoof, but earth ponies appear to be made from a harder material in general. I guess after surviving all that Equestria had already flung at Flower, it would take a lot more to bring her down.

“Then why does it feel like we are in trouble?” I asked, remembering Mercury’s powerful silent rifle and the fact that she didn’t sheath it and had been giving me wary glances all the time we walked.

“Well, she killed one the gang members, so, yeah, we are definitely in trouble,” Came the answer, accompanied by a roll of the eye from Red Wire who was now dusting herself off, sending puffs of rust in Flower’s direction, who wasn’t taking it very the dust well:

“Do you want a fucking slap?” Red Wire only smirked. Her eye widened in horror though as the earth pony filly shook herself like a dog, creating a thick cloud of dirt, even worse than from Mercury’s liftoff. As the unicorn jumped away from the eddy with a shriek, Tin Flower turned to me, a wide victorious grin plastered across her face.

“I think she is in more trouble than we are.” After a moment of thought she added with a shrug, “But, if Mercury did it, she knew what she was doing.”

Giving Flower angry glances, Wire walked around the still lingering cloud and joined back in on our little conversation. “Don’t worry Twilight, we will be alright. Mercury is gonna help us, she always helps the folks around. This situation is quite delicate, so Peps is just a bit tense.”

Despite being optimistic and appearing to be in lifted spirits, the fillies cut down their talk as Mercury began to descend. With a loud thud she landed on the ground afar from us, giving rise to another cloud of rust flakes, and motioned with her hoof to come closer.

As we approached, she spoke for the first time after we began to walk. “The path is clear, but we should hurry.” She squinted her eyes, looking in the distance. “It looks like all of Grime’s assholes are retreating to the food storage, we don’t have much time now.”

Without waiting for our answer, Mercury began to briskly trot away. But after only a few steps the pegasus stopped and turned back giving me a critical, yet somewhat amused, glance.

“You know, all the blood looks cool and stuff, but you better clean it up before we meet anypony. I mean, a tinhead walking around covered in pony sauce is gonna make folks extra nervous,” She commented.

This fact completely slipped my mind. I did wipe my eyes at some point between making sure Tin Flower was alright and the first appearance of Pepper Mercury, but beyond that, unable to feel anything with the surface of my body, I totally forgot that I still looked like a murderer pony from some horror movie.

Without a word Tin Flower came to me and began to clean the thug’s remains from my face and chest. Red Wire, mumbling something like “Why do I have to do this?” before being joined by her friend, helping Flower with telekinesis from the safe distance. To be honest, both fillies were doing a horrible job. While they removed the skull shards stuck to my body, they only smeared the blood all over without cleaning it, and instead of tossing the dirty, blood-soaked rags away, they just turned them inside out.

All the while Pepper Mercury was watching us from the top of the junk pile with a bored expression, and after a couple of minutes and she, fighting a yawn, said,

“Eh, that will do. Let’s go already.”

With those words she glided from the heap of metal scrap and began trotting once again. Having not much choice, we followed her.

Now it looked like we were walking through the central part of the sector – the paths between the piles of a scrap-iron were much wider and clearer, most of them were covered in the fresh hoofprints. The metal scrap changed in appearance as well – no more covered in thick layer of rust, the metal junk was lying in the heaps with some semblance of order. Eventually, we approached a huge concrete building.

Wait… I can recognize it! Looming over me stood nothing less but a bulk of the Maretin furnace, surrounded by a galo of haze, spewing salvos of a melted slug in air. Through the building’s exposed skeleton of the metal beams I could see the large metal kilns filled with blazing molten steel moving around, dripping with huge droplets of the liquid sun on the covered with cinder and dross floor below. Ceaselessly moving amongst all the incandescence and chaos were the besmirched ponies, who were dexterously dodging the shifting mechanic innards of the enormous industrial forge and unflinchingly danced under the rains of dross. But such an intrepidity wasn’t coming without a price – metal limbs and wings were boldy reflecting back from the merciless fires of the indifferent smelter. Though, the gleaming prosthetics only made these soot covered ponies look like they belonged to that place, as if they exchanged their flesh for the steel blessing of the forge to become one with the iron digesting giant.

While it was true that I missed the rise of the heavy industry in Equestria, this type of a furnace was something that was invented shortly before the war, actually “the open hearth furnace” as it was called by its inventor, Carl Wilneigh, wasn’t received very well. He advertised his technology as the next step from traditional forges and the rejected Bessemare converter, but on the practice it was a quite inefficient furnace of a size nopony needed… not until the war began. Then the engineer from Vanhoover called Emilia Maretin brought out the license from the almost broke Fillydelphian stallion and started building those huge smelters to fuel rising demands for steel desperately needed to produce armor and weaponry. But it had been five hundred years… those furnaces were used back then only because Equestria hadn’t any other choice – seeing them now was nothing but shocking. So much for progress...

Near the entrance of the smelter a few workponies were taking a rest from the exhausting labor in the bowels of the fire spitting giant. Covered in soot and glistening with sweat, the group of mares and stallions in the dirty working robes, most of them smoking cigarettes, were silently yet curiously following our procession with the tired eyes, a few of them were artificial along with many limbs.

One of the resting ponies, an unremarkable mare rose from her resting place and lazily trotted towards us. Slowly moving a butt end of her cigarette from one corner of mouth to another while cracking neck she asked, slurring her words:

“Whazzup, Peps? Who are these kiddos? And...” She squinted at me and in a blink of an eye all her ease was gone. “Wait… you can’t be serious.”

“Send somepony for my father, tell him to come home.” With a nod she curtly answered Mercury, her expression unreadable. Then a strange, almost predatory, smile appeared on her muzzle and she added, “And gather the gang, Ashes. It is time.”

The mare’s face instantly brightened, mirroring the same odd smile.

“Finally.” She turned to the other ponies, who had been intently listening the whole conversation, and with a sharp whistle motioned with her head for them to follow.

Tin Flower and Red Wire looked at each other in confusion. There was something bigger than us happening and we ended up right in the middle of it.

It appeared that Pepper Mercury and her father, Dross Rain, lived only a few minutes trot from the smelter. Their dwelling was just as miserable as any other hut I had seen in this sector, at least on the outside – made from the rusted thin plates of steel apparently torn from some machinery years ago, covered by the countless patches of different metallic hues. It was big enough to have room for two ponies, but still tiny by my standards, being just barely larger than Applejack’s shed for working tools at Sweet Apple Acres. The only window was made not of a one single pane of glass but from a few semi-transparent dirty pieces of glass put together with a duct tape. On closer look, I could tell that Mercury’s home didn’t have any holes in the roof or the walls, which put it above most of the houses around. But, honestly, I still had hard time believing that somepony could live in such horrible conditions.

The door wasn’t locked, most probably not from the trust of denizens of the Edge in each other but from simple absence of locks amongst other things, and something was telling me that most likely there wasn’t anything precious inside either. Without a pause Mercury entered her house and turned to us, motioning with her wing with metal rustling sound: “Come on in.”

On the inside it was bigger than I expected, probably due to the thin walls and the indented floor, or maybe because the whole house was a one singular room. It was easy to tell which part belonged to the young mare and which to the older stallion, even though there was no border to mark it and I yet had to meet Dross Rain.

The half of the hut, which, I presumed belonged to Mercury was a mess. Not like Flower’s “Discord was there” level of mess, but still. The only other two, more or less clear, surfaces of Mercury’s living space were an army cot and a workbench. Everything other than that was covered in the spare parts and blueprints, but again unlike Flowers’s workshop, Mercury’s working place was quite different – from that I could tell, it was dedicated to weapons of some sort. Gun barrels and stocks, among with the magnetic coils dominated the boxes haphazardly strewn all around the young mare’s half of the house. Even the wall above the workbench was covered in blueprints and metal pinions. It now was clear why the little mechanic liked the steel winged pegasus.

The part of the hut which belonged to Dross Rain was much more clean and less cluttered, though, not completely so. All the walls were covered in maps and lists, the same could be said about the table near another army cot. Of course, I couldn’t recognize the maps, nor could I see the contents of the lists. I could, however, try to use my eyes to zoom in and read them, but decided against it because I seriously doubted I could learn anything useful that way.

Between those two halves of the house a small smoky heater nestled near a crate of coal. Other than a couple of sealed boxes there was no other furniture or anything else remarkable in this room. It was habitable, and there wasn’t much else to say about such living conditions. And, considering the fact that it was home of the local leader and his daughter, I didn’t want to imagine how the less fortunate ponies lived. The levels of poverty and misery in the Edge was lower than Equestria had ever seen.

“Soooo, how deep are we in trouble, Pep?” Tin Flower broke awkward silence and interrupted my musing with the careful question. Red Wire perked her ears, being as much interested in the answer from the pegasus as I was.

Mercury’s face instantly darkened, her brows furrowing in a grim expression. Looking the little mechanic in eyes she spoke in a grave voice, her eyes blazing with judgment:

“Be prepared to spend next few weeks in an isocube, Flower.” Her words came out like the hit of an axe against a chopping block, thick silence following the sentence.

Upon those words, all color completely drained from Tin Flower’s face, which was noticeable even through all the grime, her eyes going wide with fear and her jaw dropping in disbelief.

“Told you,” Red Wire commented quietly and without enthusiasm, not happy to lose her friend to the slave labor of the hydroponic gardens.

But something was off… Yup. Looking at the pegasus I noticed corners of her mouth slowly going up, and the young mare herself trembling slightly. Finally, with an unladylike snort she exploded in fits of laughter so hard that she fell on the floor.

“Bwahah!” She alone laughed at her “genius” joke, hitting the floor with hoof. “You… Pff-hahaha… You should have seen… hahaha... your face!” She squeezed out, wheezing. Really, what a brilliant sense of humor, I bet she could make Pinkie blush.

“Haha. Yeah, a very nice joke, Mercury,” Deadpanned Tin Flower. “But seriously, you have killed one of Grime’s ponies…” She added nervously, reminding me of the exploding unicorn’s head, and, of course, how close I was to a such fate.

“Hm. He won’t be the last today.” The steel winged pegasus, who finally stopped laughing, responded with a dark smile, checking the rifle on her side. “I’ll tell you guys everything when my father comes, it should be soon.”

“Well, thanks for saving us, anyway,” Spoke Tin Flower with voice full of gratitude, smiling. Red Wire silently nodded in agreement, smiling as well.

“Yes, thank you,” I decided to chime in. After all, from three of us I should be the most grateful – Mercury’s intervention saved my life… if I can consider it life, of course.

The pegasus’ reaction was a bit unexpected – her brows shot upwards and mouth going agape in amazement. With a goofy smile she nudged Flower with the hoof, pointing at me.

“It can even talk?” Mercury asked the little mechanic looking at me with mix of curiosity and awe.

“Yes... and, actually, her name is Twilight. I sorta made her,” Flower answered, rubbing the offended shoulder with a wrinkled face – Mercury was a little bit too enthusiastic.

“Wow, Flower you outdid yourself this time!” Exclaimed the steel winged mare.

Just as the last word fell from her lips, the hut’s door all but exploded, hitting the thin metal wall with a rattling crack of thunder, making the whole meager building shake. All four mares jumped in the air, startled, their eyes round from fright. But before the cacophony could even begin to wind down it was only intensified by the furious growl of a pegasus stallion in the doorway.

It was, no doubt, Mercury’s father – Dross Rain.

During the war, I had to interact with high ranking pegasi officers on numerous occasions. And all of them looked like pretty much identical – the emotionless faces as if chiseled from stone, the coats perfectly matching the military uniforms in color and the just as uniform buzz manecuts. If I didn’t know better I could have said that they were born like this. Except for his contorted and furious muzzle, Dross Rain completely matched such a description. I guess some things will never change.

The enraged pegasus sported almost the same color of the coat as his daughter, or more correctly, it was her who inherited the dull olive hue, albeit of a bit lighter tone than her father’s. Dross Rain’s mane again was a darker version of Mercury’s, brownish in color while it was beginning to shimmer with silver on the temples. The only thing completely different between father and daughter were Rain’s eyes – steel grey with a subtle bluish tint, giving an impression of the vibrant sky trying to shine through a curtain of the leaden clouds. Despite him not having any obvious prosthetics, like hooves or wings, he wasn’t completely devoid of the augmentations – a few tubes coming in and out of his body in a few places could be seen as well as segmented pipe in a place where his larynx should be. However, I didn’t have much of opportunity to take a proper look at Dross Rain, because as soon as his eyes fell upon his daughter he began to yell at her.

“You outdid yourself, Mecrury!” Dross Rain shouted, his nostrils flaring. Probably because of the artificial larynx, Rain’s voice sounded a bit weird, with a slight metallic echo and occasional rattle. “Have you lost your mind!? Killing one of Orange Grime’s ponies! What are you going to do when he comes for us!?” Dross Rain continued to rage, the furious gaze drilling in his daughter. For a moment he paused and looked around the room and noticed me and the girls. His blazing eyes stopped at me, squinting. With the renowned fury he pointed his hoof at me. “And what is this?! A fucking equinoid!?” He flared his wings and advanced forward. “Explain yourself this instant!” He growled finishing his outburst.

“Grime is not coming for us, not now at least.” Pepper Mercury calmly began her explanation, she looked totally unfazed by her fathers outburst. Studying her hoof she continued. “At the moment he is sitting at the food storage shaking from fear, because it is the first time we fought back.”

“Yeah, and let me tell you what’s going to happen next: he comes for us, murders you and me and nopony in this sector is going to see the food rations for months!” Dross Rain barked back, stomping his hoof in anger.

“Nah, the next thing that happens – we round up our forces and get rid of him.” The pegasus mare answered with a smile, taking the rifle from her back in the hooves.

“Are you high on zebra chems? He made the food storage into a fucking fortress, the turrets are going to slay us all before we get to the doors of it. Is it your genius master plan?” The stallion retorted irately.

“You are forgetting something.” Pepper Mercury nodded her head in my direction.

“What does this rusty fucket have to do with anything? Wait, don’t tell me you killed over a tinhead.” Dross Rain put the hoof over his eyes with a deep sigh.

“It…” Began explaining Pepper Mercury.

“She… ” Tin Flower instantly corrected with an offended glare.

“Whatever. She is our best hope to get rid of Orange Grime.” Pepper proclaimed enthusiastically.

Wait, what? I am supposed to do what?

“How? The one and only thing a tinpony can do is to bring the TCE’s wrath on us on top of everything else,” Dross Rain answered, at this point looking more tired than angry, his face showing an expression of utter disappointment.

“Do you remember that old maintenance tunnel leading to the generator room in the food storage?” Pepper Mercury asked nodding at the map above Dross Rain’s table. While I couldn’t recognize its contents, I could clearly see the bright red line drawn across.

The older pegasus sighed again and rolled his eyes.

“We have discussed it dozens of times, the magic radiation there is way too high, even with a suit nopony can survi…” Dross Rains words trailed and his eyes fell on me.

Oh.

“And now, then all of this fat bastard’s degenerates returned to his base at the storage, we have him cornered,” Mercury said with a smug smirk.

“It is our chance.” Dross Rain’s face brightened, thoughts and calculations racing in his eyes.

I, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic about all that. They talked about me as I was some kind of a mindless automaton. Apparently, the magic radiation in the place they mentioned was strong enough to kill ponies. If it was so harmful for live tissue, it could also damage my metal and plastic body, and there is no telling that it can do to the memory crystals.

“Wait! What…” I tried to ask. I couldn’t wield magic anymore, but I haven’t lost all my knowledge and arcane experience, so maybe I could help in some other, less risky way. However, I was interrupted by Dross Rain as soon as I opened my mouth.

“Oh, it talks. Well, it makes things easier, there is no need for the programing.” The older pegasus, again, talked about me as if I was a mere machine, despite me showing clear signs of being sentient.

Confused, I just stood, frozen in place trying to think of that to say to resolve this situation, my mouth moving wordlessly, when Tin Flower came to my help:

“She can’t do it!” Tin Flower exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of everypony in the room.

“Huh? Why? And who… Tin Flower, right? I remember you – you help Curie with the wings.” Dross Rain turned to the little mechanic squinting at her.

“Yup. I’ve made her and she has a problem with the hydraulic pump,” Tin Flower elaborated. Technically, it was true - I still had some trouble moving around, and the long walk across the sector didn’t help.

Tin Flower jabbed Red Wire with the elbow and the unicorn hastily added. “Yeah, she barely walks.”

Dross Rain glanced at his daughter for any explanation, but she only shrugged in the answer. After giving Tin Flower a long look he finally said:

“You do know it is prohibited to create equinoids, don’t you? We don’t have time for this right now, but we will have to talk later, Flower. Right now take it to Scuff Gear – he will think of something. And hurry up, we don’t have much time.” Turning to Pepper Mercury he motioned with his wing. “Curie, let’s go, we need to plan the assault with Ashes.”

We all exited the house and without a word both of the pegasi launched themselves in the air, leaving clouds of dust behind. Doing just what Dross Rain told us – Tin Flower began to quickly trot away in the direction opposite to where we came from, with Red Wire following her close. I had not much choice but to join them.

“What is happening? What do they want me to do?” I asked as soon as I caught up with the fillies.

“They want you to turn off the automatic defense of the food storage where Orange Grime made his base and then they will overthrow him. Pepper Mercury has been planning this for months,” Tin Flower explained to me, sounding somewhat discontent.

“Well, it’s a very good thing. I don’t think we are going to make it through the next winter with the amount of the rations we get,” Red Wire commented, sounding more enthusiastic than her friend.

“Yes, but I don’t want Twilight to get hurt… well, damaged,” Said the little mechanic, giving me a concerned glance.

“She will be fine, Flower, the tunnel is safe, except for the deadly radiation, of course.” Red Wire tried to reassure her, only to receive a scorching glare from the earth pony filly. “Erm, deadly for the alive ponies, I mean.”

Looking in the distance, Tin Flower quitely and thoughtfully said, “We can run to the city now, the tunnels entrances are not guarded.” The reaction from Red Wire was as immediate as it was fierce:

“What? Have you lost your mind? We won’t even make it there – either Mercury or Rain will spot you from the sky in a moment.” Unlike before, Red Wire sounded more desperate than angry this time. “And just think of what is going to happen if you do manage to escape! Orange Grime is going to hit back. He will go after us… after our families. Flower, please, don’t do this.” The little unicorn pleaded to her friend.

Tin Flower stopped in her tracks and her furrowed brow, weighing her options, to Red Wire’s dismay. I decided to absolve the little filly from making such a hard choice, especially considering the fact, that it wasn’t entirely hers.

“It’s ok, Flower. I’ll do it.” I broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Really? Why?” Almost in the unison answered in surprise both fillies.

“You live horrible lives in this miserable place… if I have chance to make it even just a little bit better, I’m not going to miss it.” It was true, and, Red Wire was right – I didn’t have much of a choice – fleeing right now would be a nearly death sentence for all who is left behind.

“Thanks, I guess.” Came a relieved answer from Red Wire.

“Just be careful down there.” Tin Flower said after giving me a long look.

The rest of our trip was spent in silence, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts and concerns. As before, our path ran through a relatively densely populated part of the sector, though, we didn’t meet anypony as before. Maybe it was for the best. Eventually we arrived something that could have been called a plaza – an open place surrounded by a few small concrete buildings interspersed with the signature huts made from a metal scrap, some of them build on top or on the sides of the concrete structures giving an impression of the tumor growths. On the second look I realized that this place was nothing less than a repurposed military camp, or even a concentration camp. Almost buried in the earth and heaps of junk, remains of a fence with a rusted barbed wire were the confirmation to my guess.

We passed the first building at a quick pace, probably the local hospital, judging by the almost completely faded away red cross. We stopped in front of the door to the second building – a low bulky structure with the words “Prosthetics workshop” crudely painted above the entrance.

Banging with her metal hoof on the door of the workshop, Tin Flower loudly shouted:

“Hey, Scuff Gear, are you there?”

“Gah! You woke me up, you, little scoundrel!” A surprised croaking yell came out from the inside. It obviously belonged to a stallion, who judging by all the racket was trying to get to the door.

“Did ya come again to beg for them ol’ spares?” He rambled hoarsely closer than before, but still making so much noise that it sounded like he was wading through a sea of the empty tin cans. Scuff Gear sounded a bit like Granny Smith, as if displeased with the whole world around. He had the same thick rural accent which somehow was only emphasized by what sounded like a lack of teeth in his jaws.

“I ain’t givin’ ya a shit fer your stupid equinoid project!” With those words Scuff Gear threw open the door and and stood in the doorframe, looking at us with still half closed eyes and half-opened toothless mouth.

So far, Tin Flower was the most dirty pony I had ever seen in my life, in sort, she was a standart to measure the filthiness of the Edge dwellers, who, by the merit of the surrounding area, were all covered in grime to some extent. However, compared to Scuff Gear, she was all but shining with the cleanness. The elder earth pony stallion before me looked like he was avoiding showering and even being outside in the rain for all his life, which, judging by length of his beard, lasted for quite a while. Covered in the generous smears of oil grease, soot and other unknown substances, hopefully of the technological origins, the old mechanic was also partially wrapped in just as dirty rags. Once more today I was glad to have a limited perception of the world thanks to my imperfect artificial body, because I didn’t even wanted to think of the smell. I had not a single idea of what color his pelt was, because I doubted I could even see it. While Scuff Gear’s bald head was the only shining and relatively clean part of his body, his wrinkled muzzle was half-hidden in the thick grey beard. And yes, it was clean enough to tell it’s coloration, though, it didn’t make the muzzle hair less disgusting – from that I could tell it was used as a napkin amongst other things, judging by the remains of nibbled mushrooms and canned vegetables. Of course, one could try and justify it with the fact that showers most probably weren’t a commodity in the Edge and that Scuff Gear’s body was covered in nothing less but an exoskeleton poking from under the filthy tatters, which would be a trouble for an elder to remove and put back every time. Apparently, less than acceptable life conditions and time took their toll and the familiar net of the hydraulic tubes circling his twisted joints served to allow this ancient pony to move his knobbly limbs once again. Surprisingly, despite being called the prosthetics mechanic, Scuff Gear didn’t have any, aside for the exoskeleton, which most probably didn’t actually count, since it didn’t seem to have a direct integration into his body.

As we stood staring at each other, some comprehension started to show in the widening discolored elder stallion eyes.

“Smack mah ass and call me a donkey… ya did it, I cannae believe my ol’ eyes,” Scuff Gear finally said in a raspy drawl, studying me with his gaze, his “ol’ eyes” suddenly having much more sharpness than I expected from a stallion who sounded like somepony at the sunset of their mind.

“Told you – I can do it,” Tin Flower said gleaming with proudness before she puffed her chest once again. Supposedly, both mechanics, old and young, were something like friends and had quite a history between them.

“Yeah, and now we are neck deep in shit because of it,” Snarkily commented Red Wire with a roll of her eye, giving her friend a dissatisfied glare, which didn’t affect the beaming earth pony filly at all.

“Huh? Whatcha do ya mean, Geode?” Scuff Gear shifted his attention to the young unicorn. Spitting on his hooves and rubbing them together he asked with a toothless smile, slowly moving towards Red Wire, his exoskeleton clanking with an each slow limping step. “By the way, do ya need your crystal eye to be checked, eh?”

“Um… Not really… But… ah... my neck! Yeah, I need my neck to be checked! Hurts like a bitch. I’m going to visit the med’s.” The unicorn filly hastily retreated from the outstretched blackened hooves of Scuff Gear, her eyes holding a horrified look as if they were hydra’s heads extending towards her. As she ran away the elder stallion cackled, coughing between the laughs.

“Hehehe, now when the hornhead is gone, let us dirt ponies have a real talk.” Motioning with his head, he added, “Come inside.” And limped back to the workshop.

I decided not to tell that I actually was an unicorn, though, it probably didn’t matter now – after all, machines can’t have the magic, right?

I expected Scuff Gear’s workshop to be messier and dirtier than Flower’s by the same degree as the old stallion was filthier than the steel legged filly, but it wasn’t that bad. Actually, it even looked somewhat orderly, at least, most of it. The walls of the shack were covered in the shelves and racks with the closed boxes. The workbench looked clear from any mess, ready for work. Oh, and almost no rust! Overall, it was just as bad as the RCRC in the heat of a project, which was tolerable, however, two things in this room were bothering me greatly.

The first one – a filthy mattress on the floor in the corner, surrounded by the empty tin cans and just some random garbage, which explained the cacophony from before. The most accurate description for it would be “a rat nest”. There was not many options of who it belonged to. Absolutely disgusting.

The second thing was a large metal table right in the middle of the room. At first glance I thought that it was covered in rust, but when I looked at the stand on its side with the various knives, saws, drills and other tools. It wasn’t a mechanic’s workshop, but a prosthetics station for no reason, a morbid realisation came to me.

Scuff Gear distracted me from the somber picture of this horrific operational table with the question, however, it wasn’t addressed to me.

“So, wazzup? Ya look like you hafta fight for yer equinoid, ” The old mechanic, who sat near the workbench, uttered before nodding towards me and then proceeded to crack his neck and joints, screwing his face with each loud pop.

“Actually, I did.” Scuff Gear stopped in his activity and raised his bushy brow at that, but said nothing, prompting Tin Flower to continue. “Long story short, we tried make it to the Outer City to get some fake IDs when Orange Grime’s fucks caught us and almost killed Twilight, Mercury shot one of them dead and now plans to use Twilight to turn off the food storage turrets and get rid of him for good,” The young earth pony said the whole phrase in a one breath, reminding me of the way Pinkie used to tell things, and, Flower’s explanation was just as unintelligible.

Scuff Gear listened to the explanation with an unreadable expression on his muzzle, stallion’s gaze pointed somewhere miles away, probably not even in this world. As Tin Flower was recovering her breath, in horror, I watched how he slowly opened his mouth and licked with the long tongue a mushroom out of his beard. Chewing on it, the elder stallion shifted eyes to the filly, his expression still neutral.

“Who the fuck is Twilight?” He finally asked. It probably wasn’t the first time he was told something from Flower like this, and it looked like that he managed to make a sense from the most of it.

I decided it was my turn to join the conversation: “I am.”

The reaction from Scuff Gear was instant, his chapped lips dissolved into a goofy smile, slobbered mushroom falling on the floor from the open mouth. Surprising Tin Flower he grabbed her and squeezed in a tight hug.

“Daaaamn, gurl!” The old mechanic gave his younger colleague a noogie firmly holding the thrashing, yet smiling, filly in his hooves. Proudly looking at Flower, he pointed at me, not letting her from his other hoof. “Ya have even got them matrixes!”

“Yeah, about that…” Flower limpened in stallion hooves, her face darkening and rubbed back of her head. “It’s more complicated than it seems.”

“Huh? Whatcha do ya mean?” Asked confused Scuff Gear, tilting his head a bit and giving me a curious look.

The filly avoided answering his question and instead brought up the reason we came here in the first place.

“Anyway, I couldn’t find an intact hydraulic pump, so she has only, like, half of the working pressure in her legs and Peps wants to send her to the maintenance tunnels real soon. Can you help?” Tin Flower inquired, not looking stallion in the eyes.

“Maybe.” Scuff Gear squinted at the filly, but decided not to press the issue. Instead he turned to me. “I need to take a look inside first.” That didn’t sound good – the thought of somepony fumbling around with my insides was making me feel very uncomfortable, especially with those dirty hooves. But, again, if I want to keep walking, I shouldn’t reject any help I’m being given. As if sensing my hesitation, he asked me directly, motioning with his hoof, “Twilight ya say? C’mere.”

As I reluctantly approached Scuff Gear, the old stallion fished out a screwdriver from the depths of the rags covering his body and dragged himself on the floor to my side with a terrible scraping noise, refusing to get his rump of the floor. I tried to take a look at what he was doing, but I couldn’t turn my head this far, so, again, I had to wait as somepony was tinkering with my innards.

“It’s been ages since I have seen an equinoid…” Scuff Gear quietly muttered – I couldn’t decide if to himself, or addressing me. “The tin ponies are not very welcomed in the Edge, ya know… hmm...“ He continued to mumble, fumbling with something on my side. As he was talking to me, I heard something fall on the floor – screws. He removed a slightly rusty metal plate, which he carefully put on his side. But before I could ask him about the equinoids, he gasped in a surprise. “Whoah… These are... the legit Princesses’ Age gems, I can count by mah hooves times I saw something like that. Where did you get them, Flower?” He drawled, slowly shaking his head in the disbelief.

Tin Flower, who was silently watching the older pony working all that time, decided to chime in. “I found them in the city and, yeah, she says her name is Twilight and that she was a scientist back then and used those crystals for recording and… she had kinda recorded herself on them. She doesn’t remember anything between then and now, though.”

Upon hearing my name Scuff Gear froze in place, the hoof with the screwdriver stopping mid-air. His eyes hardened, and something changed on his muzzle, the expression becoming unreadable once again.

“Ya know what, Flower, I can fix her hydraulics pump, but I need a spare one from the storage. Can you fetch me it from the shed outside?” Scuff Gear slowly said to the filly over his shoulder, but looked me directly in the eyes.

“Aye, I’ll be back in a blink of an eye.” Tin Flower, oblivious to change in the old stallion, saluted with her steel hoof and darted outside, with a spring in her steps.

Scuff Gear continued to give me that strange look for a few more moments, until the little filly’s steps outside faded away. With a deep sight he turned to the shelves and rose to his hooves.

“I’ve seen your kind before, you know,” Scuff Gear stated in a suddenly melancholic voice, slowly moving towards the towering rack near the wall with the large boxes, his exoskeleton rattling with the each step. Something had cardinally changed in this stallion, he no more looked as a weird semi-senile “that crazy grandpa”, his accent almost completely gone from his voice, leaving the expression of weathered and a very tired pony who had witnessed too much for a one life.

And what did he mean by that? Scuff Gear already told me that he had seen equinoids, so he probably referred to my crystal “matrixes”. On other hand, the girls told me that I’m the first of the kind…

“Really? Tin Flower and Red Wire told me that I’m the first pony who came this close to the True Transference.” I tried to clarify his statement, though, I wasn’t sure if the elder stallion heard me – he was too busy noisily rummaging through the metal containers on the shelf.

“For realzies,” Huffed Scuff Gear, who finally finished searching the boxes and fished something from one them. Wait a moment, it looks familiar… was it a hydraulic system pump? Before I could ask him about it, he turned to me and continued to talk.

“Equinoids rarely end up in the Edge, at least, not as a whole and with any gems inside, but I didn’t spend my whole life here. And yet, I’ve never seen an equinoid like you.” He moved to the workbench and picked up a few tools along with a duct tape and a box of screws, walking towards me he added with a sigh:

“And about the girls… I love them, the very bright fillies, but honestly, they don’t know shit, not like they can learn anything from spending all their time in this hole.” Finally, he came to me and again looked me in the eyes. “I meant the other kind of ponies, those from the Princesses’ Ages, the Former Ones.”

What? Wait, does it mean… he can’t be serious – it’s been five hundred years! Who could have survived that long?

“Do you mean there are others!?” I grabbed him by the shoulders, in a sudden movement kicking the metal plate from my body lying on the floor to the side, but ignoring it I continued to spill the stream of questions at him. “Who are they? What are their names?” Could they be somepony I once knew? Could they even be my friends? Because who else, but them, could be capable of such an incredible feat. But, a sudden realisation came to my mind: if my friends were still alive would they allow Equestria to become such a horrible place?

Scuff Gear, however, was totally unfazed by the assault of the questions. Brushing aside my hooves from his weary shoulders, the elder stallion silently once again took the place at my side and began to work with his hooves deep into my body.

All of a sudden I felt my limbs go limp as if something deflated inside of me, and, after the fruitless attempt to move, I found out that my body was paralyzed with my head half turned in a way so I can see only Scuff Gear’s face.

>WARNING! An unauthorized access is detected. Remember: modification of the TCE property is is considered a criminal offense. Please contact the TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible.

>WARNING! Hydraulic system pump is offline. The hydraulic system is not functional. Please contact TCE Equinoid Technical Support Station as soon as possible.

>WARNING! Unidentified components detected. Please contact the TCE Equinoid Support Station for more information.

>WARNING! Critical levels of magical contamination in memory crystals. Please contact the TCE Equinoid Support Station as soon as possible. Remember: Negligence of annual magical decontamination for crystals is considered a criminal offense.

After a minute of silence, interrupted only by the clicking noises from my insides and illegible curses, Scuff Gear finally gruffly spoke. “As far as I know, there are, like, less than two dozen ponies from the time of The Great War, if you don’t count the fucking zebra witches with their weird creepy shit, of course.” He paused, looked somewhere above and behind me, and scrunching his face continued. “Actually, those ponies are creepy too, I mean – no normal magic can make a pony live for centuries. Even she was a bit creepy.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And don’t ask me the names, nopony knows who are they, in fact, almost all of them have completely gone nuts, can’t remember even their own names, and those who still can – prefer not to tell anypony… hmph.”

Scuff Gear paused and after a few moments of grunting with a loud clunk something fell on the floor – my old hydraulic pump, I presume. While I still had a lot of questions, I did not dare to interrupt the old mechanic. He would just ignore my questions and continue to tell his story, anyway, but I didn’t want to be rude. With another grunt Scuff Gear picked up the “new” pump from the floor and put it into my body to replace the old one. After a sigh Scuff Gear began to talk again.

“I once worked with the mare from The Great War times, and, damn, your old kind is different, could make anything done, no matter what, unlike ponies these days. She needed a mechanic who won’t ask questions and does the job good. And I needed money back then. Needed it bad. Being very young and living near the Deep Tunnels does that to a pony.” Scuff Gear shoved his muzzle into my side, his head almost completely disappearing from my view. As the elder pony withdrew his head, now covered in the fresh wet splotches, he commented. “Hmph… gonna change a couple of tubes while I’m at it.”

With those words Scuff Gear once again departed to the shelves, looking for the spare plastic and resin tubes, leaving me still paralyzed with my thoughts alone.

Unbelievable – almost twenty ponies who had managed to make it through half of a millennium, and it’s only according to the full of holes memory of this old pony, who didn’t even spend all his life in the city. I was certain, there could be more. However, according to my memory, in my times, there was none, the Princesses didn’t count, obviously. Apparently, the corrupted government and the lousy law enforcement lead to either a leak of the knowledge from the restricted part of The Royal Archives or to a promulgation of Sombra’s and his Coven’s dark magic after the war. It explains why most of those ponies went insane – such magic always comes with a high price. Also, I vaguely remembered something about the ancient obscure rituals and the rare alchemical potions from Zebrica which could prolong an equine life, and again, such transgressions against the nature come with a dire cost – this is why practices like those were uncommon even amongst zebras, who invented them. And who know what other dark secrets could have been unearthed in the last five centuries…

His exoskeleton rattling with each step, Scuff Gear got back to me with the coils of colorful tubes hanging from his mouth. Spitting them on the floor under me, he returned to fixing the core of the pneumatic system inside my body. Just like the last time, all of sudden he decided to continue his tale.

“”The Magician” she called herself.” As Scuff Gear talked in a raspy and melancholic voice, his muzzle dissolved in a smile and eyes half closed in the recollection of the passed youth. “That an amazing mare she was – body made a pure arcanium, if I close my eyes I still can see that shiny bu… ahem… her magic – it’s not like from the lame hornheads these days… every time she cast a spell – it was a show to remember for the rest of the life. Heh…” The elder stallion chuckled, shaking his head. “We had quite an adventure together at the lowest levels of The Tunnels…” Smile faded from Scuff Gear’s muzzle upon the next words. ”Haven’t seen her since then…” The elder stallion directed his sorrowful gaze somewhere out of the window, as if he was expecting to see “The Magician” once again. The old mechanic looked at the floor, chuckling, still reviving the pleasant memories in his mind. “Heard a lot of stories from her about the past, about how the things were.” Scuff Gear turned his head to me and looked me directly in the eyes. ”Heard even about you – Twilight Sparkle, one the greatest heroes and scientists, who met a miserable and cruel end. Though, I’m not amazed to see you, feels logical somehow, she spoke very highly of you, after all.”

If I hadn’t been already paralyzed, I’m sure would be upon hearing that. Even vague and quite expected, the fact that I was dead still was shocking. How did it happen? Did I die in that accident?

“Wha… What happened to… me?” Was the only question I managed to squeeze out, though I had much more, as usual, but this time I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to know the answers.

Scuff Gear shook his head with a crooked sad smile on the chapped lips and returned to tinkering with my innards once more. A few moments later a quiet reply came from him:

“Wish I could tell you more, but my memory is not as it was, sorry.”

My mind was racing – if this mare remembered me, the others could remember me too… they could know what happened to me and my friends…

“I should find those ponies… Find out what happened to me…” I said my thoughts aloud. I didn’t know what to do next, or what my final goal was, but this sounded like a solid start to getting back on the track. Scuff Gear, however, didn’t think so – dashing in front of my face he looked me directly in the eyes, his muzzle bearing a serious and concerned expression:

“Twilight, listen to me now, it is the past and you can’t change it, and I seriously doubt knowing how you died is going to help.” There was a point in his words, though, he wasn’t “dead” yet, so he couldn’t understand. Before I could retort, Scuff Gear’s expression darkened and he hastily added. “But here, in the present, ponies need you once more, the instant you help Mercury, she will get rid of you and the girls, mark my words.”

Now he didn’t make much sense again. Didn’t Pepper Mercury want to help the Edge dwellers?

“Why? She seems nice and genuine,” Came my response. The young pegasus was a bit gritty, but a good mare. She even reminded me of Rainbow Dash.

“Argh, it’s all a mask – I’ve seen shadows lurking in her eyes, believe or not, but Orange Grime is better than this crazy filly. She wasn’t the same after she lost her wings, the poor thing.” Scuff Gear scowled at my words. Now he didn’t make any sense at all – according to what I learned, Orange Grime was a death sentence for this sector with his food distribution policy. Nor it sounded like a convincing argument. As the old mechanic returned to fixing my hydraulic system, he continued to talk.

“As soon as her gang attacks the warehouse, grab the girls and get the fuck out of the Edge and go to the City.” Scuff Gear paused and pointed his slightly shaking hoof at me. “But don’t stop there for long – Canterlot doesn’t have much time left for it.” The elder stallion grimly finished.

Scuff Gear’s statements were becoming more and more confusing – either he knew something very fundamental that nopony else did, or he was simply making things up.

“What do you mean?” I demanded clarification for his words, deciding to not jump to conclusions and give him a chance to explain the situation.

“The city is dying, in a couple of decades the Edge is going to run out of steel to send to the city – the crap we recycle crumbles in hooves already. And before you ask – I’ve talked to Nebula’s mechanics, well, before they left her, – the mines are already dry. The same can be said about almost anything, including food and… even your precious magic,” Scuff Gear said in sad and tired voice.

Now he was making things up.

“Magic? How is it even possible? That’s not how it works!” Magic is not some kind of a resource that can be depleted – it is a vast thaumagical field existing in the underlying plane of space and time next to ours, reflecting Equestria and beyond, thus being as great as the whole world. Saying that magic is being lost is saying that the fundamentals of our world, or even the whole universe are crumbling. He wasn’t talking about the “death” of Canterlot, but about the apocalypse, and I seriously doubted it.

“Tell it to all the ponies who died that winter a couple of years ago!” Scuff Gear barked back at me.

“But the girls told me that it were Pink Butterflies!” I snapped at him, becoming agitated with his crazy sounding theories.

“Agh, they dunno know nuffing!” Scuff Gear threw the wrench on the floor in a bout of anger. “There never was an attack, the shield failed because the damned horns didn’t have enough power, and I’m sure it wasn’t the last time. Get the fuck out of here, nopony is going to survive it again when it happens!” The old mechanic raspily yelled at me in exasperation, flailing his hoof, the exoskeleton rattling with the each motion.

“Then where can we go? I’ve seen with my own eyes… sensors… the lands beyond Canterlot…” I began to shoot back at Scuff Gear, but couldn’t finish my sentence, being interrupted by the elder stallion.

“You take them girls and go to Stalliongrad,” He stated calmly, yet firmly, making a little sense once again.

“What?” Scuff Gear must be joking. “Isn’t Canterlot the last city? The girls told me...” I tried to argue with an another of his contradictory statements, and was interrupted over again, this time more rudely:

“They. Don’t. Know. Shit!” Scuff Gear angrily punctuated very words and pointed somewhere outside with his hoof, shouting at me: “They are just two kids, for fucks sake!”

He sat on his haunches and took a deep sigh before continuing in a much more composed manner this time:

“Listen here, I’m old and for sure sound crazy, but if there is a city that will stand in Equestria until the end of the world it is Stalliongrad… I maybe sit on my old wrinkled ass in this fucking junkyard all the time, but even I have heard the rumors… it still stands proud. And if you still don’t believe my words, The Magician told me herself. One of her friends, another mare from The War times left for it. You should remember that city, you know how it was – ‘Stalliongrad falls the last’ they always said.”

At this moment I had almost began to doubt even the story about that “The Magician” mare, but his last words actually made a lick of a sense. I indeed remembered Stalliongrad – The City of The Unbroken as some said, or as the others called it… The City of The Traitors. An impenetrable fortress of an enchanted stone standing proud and on its own amongst the frozen cliffs of the Luna Bay, on the very edge of the world, marking the northern border, while not being inside it. And from the moment of its foundation almost in the same time as Equestria itself was founded, Stalliongrad was in the state of an eternal war – with Yakyakistan, the rams’ septs, the sea serpents… even Equestria itself. During Nightmare Moon’s uprising, Stalliongrad’s ponies were the first to pledge loyalty to the possessed goddess, seeking her help and guidance to put an end to their never ending struggle. After the defeat of Nightmare Moon, Stalliongrad refused to bow to Princess Celesia’s army and stood defiantly under the siege for more than a decade until the Sun Goddess had to recognize its independence and sign a peace treaty to save her army from freezing to death. Since then the relationship between Stalliongrad and Equestria improved greatly – they even sent a regiment of soldiers to help during the war with Sombra, but the proud city still stands by itself morosely, fighting its own war with the restless north. Scuff Gear was right – Stalliongrad is the last city in Equestria to fall, its ponies are just too stubborn to die.

Unaware of my trip to the depths of my memory, Scuff Gear continued to talk, this time sounding no more angry or crazy, but more defeated and desperate.

“I don’t want Flower and Wire to slowly die in here… To be honest, I’m proud of them – the girls, they are something, both got the incredible talents… the incredible hearts…” Did he just sniff? “You will never find a filly who can make an equinoid…” He chuckled. “And she can’t even properly read. And Geode Gleam can be just as much a barbed wire as she can be Red Wire, but she deserves all of her names.” He paused composing himself, and looked me in the eyes. “It is sad that only you, the old ponies, are still capable of changing world, unlike me or most of us.”

I didn’t know what to say or what to believe, how to react to his words. Should I really go to Stalliongrad? Can it be better there than in Canterlot? How long it will take to get to Stalliongrad by hoof? Is it even possible?

My train of thoughts was stopped by a bit more jovially sounding Scuff Gear. With a knock on my side, pleased with himself, the elder stallion said:

“Well, I’ve changed the pump, it’s not new but better than the piece of junk you had. Flower is a smart kid, but she should learn how to steal stuff one day. And maybe how to read.”

Hey, I can move again! I tried to flex my limbs and they indeed moved more smoothly and faster than before – I didn’t feel like I was wading through syrup anymore. I turned to Scuff Gear to express my gratitude.

“Thanks.”

The elder pony only nodded to my words, and looking me in the eyes with unreadable expression added:

“Now go and do what you should. It’s not my place to order around a mare like you, but keep my words in your mind – you are running of time, Twilight Sparkle.” Scuff Gear turned away from me and limped away to his mattress in the corner, not waiting for my answer. I guess, it means I should go back to Pepper Mercury. As I was at the door, Scuff Gear who climbed in the depths of his “rat nest”, covering himself with a glistening piece of thermal insulation croaked:

“We are all due…”

It was a lot of knowledge to consider. With that thought I left the workshop to find Tin Flower and Red Wire. The old stallion was definitely right about one thing – I was running out of time, there was no telling when Orange Grime decides to retaliate. I had to find the girls and go back to Mercury.

There was no need to look for Red Wire, because as soon as I exited the workshop I noticed her sitting near the hospital doors, forlornly looking in the distance. She had no signs of medical help being received – the red marks on her neck were just as evident. Maybe her wounds were not worth the attention or the medical supplies by the standards of the Edge, but most probably she didn’t actually seek medical help and just used it as an excuse to avoid Scuff Gear. Red Wire noticed me as well and rose to meet me with the question:

“Where is Flower? Is she still chatting with Scuff Gear? We have no time for this.” Inquired the little unicorn sounding impatiently. Apparently, she had to sit outside, waiting for me and Tin Flower almost the whole time.

“Scuff Gear send her to the “shed outside”. Do you know where it is?” I asked her in return. Red Wire answered only with the motion of her head, inviting me to follow.

A narrow path between the hospital and the workshop lead us to a half-ruined shack surrounded by a various junk – most of it looked like remains of the equinoinds, stripped almost of all of their limbs. The quietly muttered curses and a racket of metal coming from that shack gave me an obvious clue to where to look for Tin Flower.

Through the open door I saw her rummaging through the contents of the shelves in the vain attempts to find the hydraulic pump.

“Hey, Flower,” I called her, but the little filly was too busy to hear me.

“Flower, damn it!” Impatiently yelled Wire much louder.

“Huh?” Finally Tin Flower reacted, but resumed her search for the no more needed spare part. “I’ve almost found it! Just a one more minute.”

Red Wire rolled her eye, and before she could come out with some unnecessarily harsh response I decided to speak first.

“It’s me, Twilight. Scuff Gear has fixed my pump. We should go now.” After those words the little mechanic finally emerged from the shed, covered in fresh dust and flakes of rust.

“Oh, come on!” Flower whined, and after being met with my glare and the raised eyebrow from Wire added. “I mean, it’s great, but he could have told me he had a spare one in the workshop. I made the hay of this shed looking for it!”

“Why am I not surprised? The old stallion lost his marbles long ago. Anyway, let’s go already, Mercury must be tired of waiting for us!” Barked at her Red Wire and without waiting for an answer trotted away, leaving us to catch up with her.

Just as before we spend our trip back to Mercury’s (and Dross Rain’s for that matter) hut in silence, mostly because of the very brisk pace dictated by the long legged unicorn filly.

Pepper Mercury was already waiting for us outside, checking her rifle. A few hooves away from her Dross Rain and the mare from the smelters – Ashes, had been discussing something over the map laid out on the crate between them.

“Not a minute too soon.” The steel winged pegasus mare was the only pony to greet us – both adults were too engrossed in their activity to even notice us. “What took you so long?”

“We needed to change her hydraulic pump, I told you,” Tin Flower answered in a disgruntled tone. As we were approaching the pegasi’s dwelling, her expression became more and more sour, and now she was visibly dissatisfied with the whole situation once again. However, it was unnoticed by Mercury who put her rifle into the harness and walked toward us.

“Whatever. So, can it walk properly now?” She asked, giving me a measuring look and making Tin Flower almost growling.

“She. And her name is…” Tin Flower began to talk, but was interrupted by Dross Rain.

“Ah, you are finally back!” He approached us from the makeshift table and turning to the fuming filly asked. “So, can your equinoid do what is needed, Flower?”

I couldn’t really decide if I should be irritated by being treated like a machine and not a pony. I had yet to meet the other equinoids and see if they had the level of sentience comparable of that of the living beings. Maybe, they were actually just the mindless automatons and thus it was justified for Pepper Mercury and Dross Rain to treat me this way – after all, they could not know about my predicament.

Anyway, I dared to speak for myself to avoid Tin Flower arguing with pegasi, both young and adult.

“Yes, I can.” Came my answer. Ashes rose her head from the map and gave me a wary glance. Dross Rain gave me a neutral, yet long look. Finally, he said:

“Excellent.” Turning in place, so he would be facing me the stallion asked directly. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, of course.” That wasn’t a very flattering question, to be honest, but again, I didn’t know his expectations of me, so the best I could do now is to keep my head down and just follow the flow of the conversation.

“Good.” He nodded and motioned me to follow him to the makeshift table. “Come over here.”

We both approached the overturned plastic crate used to lay out the map, which I almost instantly recognized – it was the same map from the wall above Dross Rain’s table in the hut, although, a few fresh marks and lines were added to it since then.

Ashes, the mare on the opposite side of the table, gave me an another wary look as we came nearer. Up close, I was able to take a better look of her.

Ashes reminded me of the workponies from Ponyville construction crew – sturdy, simple and a bit rough at the edges, all of that was only emphasized by her being an earth pony. An unkempt hair of grey color and a pelt of a bit lighter hue were perfectly matching her name, even her eyes were of a steel color. I doubted that this coloration was caused by the age – Ashes looked like an young adult, although, it was hard to determine an age of a pony in the Edge. Her body was almost entirely covered in a dark dirty working robe – and there was a reason for it. Parts of her skin, which were not protected by the cloth beared the pockmarks of little burns – a price of being showered by slag on daily basis. In the corner of her mouth sat a dead cigarette, and judging by how chewed on it was – it was the same cigarette she was smoking when we first met her at the smelter.

Dross Rain brought my attention to the map, pointing with the primaries of his wing at the thick red line.

“Your order is to enter this maintenance tunnel.” He moved his feather from the start of the line to the big square outline at the end. “And to reach the power converter room and shut it down.” Raising his head, he glanced at me. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I curtly answered, thinking about choice of his words. An order. I indeed was treated like a machine. I wondered if the other equinoids were treated the same, or it was just the local, or, maybe, the pegasi thing – they do have a habit of ordering around.

I looked at the map scanning it with my eyes. Apparently, Dross Rain noticed it and commented:

“The tunnel is straight as an arrow, you won’t be lost,” He said once again tracing the line with his wing.

Maybe it was a good thing that I couldn’t roll my eyes. Such an attitude, even considering all the reasons, was becoming a bit tiring. But it wasn’t what really bothered me.

“What about the magic radiation?” I asked the question which was troubling me since the beginning.

Dross Rain glanced at me, a bit surprised. He furrowed his brows, searching for an answer, but apparently it was beyond his field of knowledge, so he looked at Ashes, who heard the whole exchange, prompting her to help.

She thought for a moment, cleared her throat and began explaining in a raspy voice:

“The converter uses the crystals charged at the Thunderspires to power up the food storage. This asshole, Orange Grime, decided to crank up the power a while ago, and the crystal cracked. The magic energy leaking from it fries everything in the room, it is too hot for the living ponies, even in the protection suits.”

An outflux of a raw magic energy… it wasn’t something new for me, actually, far from it – the leakages of magic were a common issue we experienced in the RCRC during our experiments with the prototypes. However, it was never that bad. The amount of energy stored in that crystal must be astounding if it had been leaking for so long with such dire consequences.

I didn’t know how much my current body was susceptible to heat, though I was sure the enchanted crystals inside me should withstand high temperatures with no trouble. I wish I could say the same about the plastic details and rubber tubes…

“After you turn off the power, we are going to strike. Just stay put in the room and we will retrieve you after.” Not waiting a reply for me Dross Rain summarized our conversation. “Your orders are: go through the tunnel, enter the converter room, turn it off and wait.” He emphasized each action by holding his primaries one by one.

Was he in the military before or something? And especially considering the fact that his daughter makes weaponry…

My thoughts were disrupted by the sudden question for Tin Flower:

“What is going to happen to her after that?” She asked the older pegasus anxiously.

Dross Rain and Ashes turned to her and gave the little filly almost a disappointed look, before the pegasus gave a short and simple answer:

“We can’t keep an equinoid here.” His words were accompanied by the hard, almost menacing glare which implied that no arguing is going to take a place and the decision is final.

Tin Flowers ears dropped, but she herself said nothing. Turning away from the defeated filly, Dross Rain addressed his daughter:

“Curie, show her the tunnel and join us at the fairway to the storage as we discussed, we can’t lose anymore time.” He took the map from the crate and tucked it under his wing, motioning with the another: “Ashes, let’s go.”

At the same time Pepper Mercury rose from there she was sitting the whole time and wordlessly motioned with her hoof to follow. I couldn’t tell if it was addressed to only me or the girls too, but they began to move too – Red Wire, who was silent all the time, giving wary looks to Tin Flower, who looked like she was on the verge of crying. Before our two groups parted ways, Ashes and Mercury exchanged the looks and gave each other almost imperceptible nods.

Of course, I didn’t expect the entrance to the maintenance tunnel to be a golden gate with glowing signs pointing at it, but I certainly expected more than just a rusty small hatch in the earth completely blending with the surroundings. I wondered how many of such entrances I could have passed today already, because I certainly would have missed this one.

Pepper Mercury stopped at the trapdoor and looked around. She dashed to the nearest heap of scrap and fished out a metal pole which she proceed to use as a lever to open the corroded hatch. With an infernal screech, the door opened, releasing a cloud of dust flakes from the underground depths. The pegasus wrinkled her nose and commented:

“Ugh, smells like an ass…”

We all stood in an indecision near the gaping with darkness opening in the earth surface until Mercury broke the silence:

“Well, you know what to do tinhead, and I have to go – can’t miss the chance to shoot more of Orange Grime’s bastards. Don’t make us wait.” With these words she launched herself in the sky, leaving me and the girls to our fates.

Tin Flower was the first one to speak, her eyes watering:

“Please, be careful. And as soon as you finish, head right back here, we are going to wait for you. And then we are going to the city. Together,” She told me, holding my hoof and sniffed.

“Good luck.” Wished Red Wire with a curt nod.

I turned to the tunnel entrance – the steep stairs were dissolving in the pitch black darkness after a few steps, there my path laid. Did anypony bring a light? Fine… Bracing myself, I began my descent.

As soon as I reached the menacing darkness, I realized that something on my muzzle emits a steady, but not faint glow – strong enough to see just a bit more than outlines, but too weak to make details or anything at all beyond a two meters away.

I turned back and saw the two fillies peeking inside. I nodded to them, hoping that they will notice this light, and continued to move forward.

The tunnel was as cramped and nondescript as it could be expected from the utility passage between the place with purely a technical designation and the hatch... in the middle of nowhere. The only remarkable thing was a cluster of glowing mushrooms growing from the crack in the wall. Well, huge flakes of dust could had been outstanding, but not after all that dirt, rust and grime I had already seen today.

As I walked, my thoughts returned to Scuff Gear’s words, about Stalliongrad and the future of Canterlot. It was hard to believe, not that I wanted to, but some of his words were making sense… And even if he was right and I should take the girls to Stalliongrad, it is not as easy as it sounded – this city was as far from Canterlot as it was possible, literally marking the furthest northern border. To journey where by hoof is no joke, it would require a significant amount of supplies – to last for months, and I doubted we could get them for free. It is not a decision to be made easily, and of course not alone. I should bring this subject up to the girls as soon as I finish my business in the Edge.

Finally, I saw a dim glow through the dark – I was nearing the converter room. After only a minute of careful trotting I reached my destination.

The glow in this room was coming from a few things. The first of them, the dominating source of light – was the converter itself. The simple looking contraption consisted of the network of wires, coils and, most importantly – crystals. A few smaller crystals, probably acting as the fuses, were only faintly glowing, while the biggest one in the heart of the power transformer was emanating the bright, but not blindingly so, light. On its surface, overflowing with the bright spots, I could see a brilliant jagged line – the crack I was told about. Every few moments a protuberance of energy would come out of it and link to metal parts of the converter in a shower of sparks.

But the enchanted stone gems weren’t the only things glowing in this room – after looking around I noticed that any metal objects near the transformer, especially on the side of the crack were glowing from the heat with a dim orange light in the haze surrounding them. And then, I noticed something else in the nearly darkness of the room. Something that could have made me vomit, if I was able to.

Charred bones lying in the heaps scattered around the power converter. In horror I realized that it wasn’t the dust in the tunnel, but the ashes of these unfortunate ponies, who, apparently, were working in this room when the crystal cracked.

As I stood, unable to avert my eyes from the burnt remains, I heard something drop on the floor very close to me with a wet plop sound. I turned to look what on Equestria could it be and saw a little puddle of the thick liquid on the concrete floor almost right under me. Turning my head even further I realised that one of my sides were lacking a plastic protection plate, which just melted off my body. It wouldn’t take me long to become another source of the glow in this room.

I better hurry, if I didn’t want to half of my body become a simmering liquid on the floor.

The sudden motion of my body made a few more drops of plastic to fall on the floor. And the steps I made felt slightly different – the heat was affecting my metal limbs and most probably the oil in hydraulic system.

I glanced at the power converter once again and what I supposed was a master switch – I could only guess – any words once painted on the hot metal either burned away or peeled off long ago, leaving no trace. As I neared closer to the source of the heat, the lense of my left eye cracked with a loud plink, my vision becoming distorted with a horizontal split. I madly dashed to the switch, doing my best to avoid disturbing the laying bones and pulled the switch handle down. Fortunately, I met no resistance, and with a loud whining noise the transformer was turned off, its glowing crystals winking out one by one.

I waited for something – I didn’t know what, in the complete darkness, watching how even my metal limbs, red-hot a moment ago, faded away. However it didn’t took me long before I heard the loud curses at first, followed then by the screams of panic and sounds of gunshots from somewhere on the other side of the room. I guess, the tunnel isn’t the only way inside this room, and there must be a door, which I didn’t see at first.

With the all light gone, I couldn’t see a thing. When my left eye cracked, it had lost its glow, and now I could barely orient in the absolute darkness enveloping me. Of course, I could try and find the door by the feel, but it might take a while. It was a bit dangerous, but there was an another option. After a few minutes of indecision I finally made up my mind.

Carefully, I moved in the direction of the sounds of the fight. My plan was to open the door and let some light in so it will be easier to find the entrance to the maintenance tunnel. As I slowly moved I heard something crunch under my metal hoof. I winced, but continued to move forward. Finally I saw a flat surface of the door in the very dim green glow, but as I reached for the doorknob, my another hoof was caught up in the cable or some sort of a rope, so instead of carefully opening the door just a little, I widely threw it open in the attempt to keep my balance.

It was a bloody massacre. I never saw the overthrow of a leader – such a thing was alien for Equestria, but I knew, that it is not how it should be done. The crimson blood was everywhere, so much of it. Mangled bodies of the dead ponies lay strewn on the floor with their broken weapons and parts of the armor in between them. So many maimed corpses. But it wasn’t as bad as the scene before my very eyes.

Pepper Mercury, her smiling face smeared with blood and the steel wings dripping with the scarlet liquid, her rifle dropped on the floor near, was viciously beating a stallion with her bare hoofs. The floor under his body was crimson red, his limbs and wings broken, the feathers soaked in blood lying amongst his teeth. And then I froze in my place – this stallion… it was Dross Rain.

I don’t know how long lasted this moment of a utter shock, when Mercury looked at me and our eyes met. Once shining with the calm determination, now they were gleaming with the bloodthirst and violence. She stopped beating her father and quickly reached out for the gun. It took me mere moment to realise what is going to happen next.

As I quickly stepped back to face the blackness of the converter room, I heard an inequine growl behind me as a bullet bounced from the transformer just above my head. The light from the door was merely enough to see an another doorway, leading to the maintenance tunnel. I dashed madly to the door, not bothering to open it, hoping that my metal body would be enough to just smash through it. As I hoped, I rammed through the door and in a shower of the splitters entered the tunnel.

And then, I ran.

Author's Notes:

Here we go – another chapter. As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know. Special thanks to IAmApe for doing so in the previous chapter!

A few news – writing process is going relatively smoothly – I have the 4th chapter ready for editing and began to work on the 5th. There is a little sidestory coming soon – it's almost ready for editing as well. The prologue and 1st chapter are going to be edited once again to hopefully get rid of all mistakes.
Oh, and please do join Aftersound discord server (link below)

Also, Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
Don't be shy and check it out!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

And the last:
I invite you to join Aftersound Project discord server where you can chat with Geka and I, discuss the story, get to see announcements, little snippets of the future chapters and new illustrations.
https://discord.gg/R5Ky8K4

Chapter 4 – On their own

I run. I run, and run, and run. I run from the murderous mare who killed her own father in cold blood. I run from the warehouse filled with the mutilated corpses and death. I run from this twisted world as fast as my hooves allowed.

Why? Goddesses, why? What did I do to deserve being in this nightmare? Is it my punishment for failing The Elements? It’s because of me we were defeated by Sombra when we first met him. The whole war was my fault. Is it my punishment for failing her? If only I tried harder and stopped Chrysalis, she would be alive. I wouldn’t have failed The Elements and there would be no war, and all the Princesses would be alive and happy, and we would all be in a world lead by both Royal Sisters, and...

And then I slammed with the force of a freight train into something. Shards of the just solidified plastic showered my surroundings like shrapnel. Metal parts, screws and nuts followed their plastic comrades with a loud ringing. With a sickening scrunch my right eye was pulverized into a rain of glistening glass shards falling on the rusted floor below.

Now, not much different from the heaps of scrap on the outside, I fell on the floor in a tangle of limbs. As soon as the last screw stopped bouncing on the floor, the following silence was filled with the sounds of fluids dripping from my body; no doubt it was my hydraulic system. But I didn’t really care right now. I was already listening for the only sounds that mattered to me at the moment and which I dreaded to hear the most; the clop of hooves or a rustle of metal wings. However, I only heard myself continuing to hemorrhage.

The countless lines of warnings were flashing in my vision, but I didn’t bother to read them. I raised my head and in the blinking light of my now only eye I saw a flat concrete surface right in front of me, freshly smeared with something oily. I missed the steps. My gaze began to drift upwards. No doubts the girls heard my unexpected collision and were going to open the hatch.

But it wasn’t the staircase. It was a wall, a right turn to be precise. Wait... there were no turns in the maintenance tunnel... How long had I been running? It took me only a few minutes of a slow and careful trot to get to the converter room. And though I couldn’t tell how much time I spend running, I certainly was carelessly galloping as fast as my limbs would allow for quite a while.

Where was I? Did I enter the wrong door? Actually, it made sense now, I had to have broken through it, although I didn’t close the door behind me when I first entered the room with the converter. This didn’t answer my initial question though. Most likely it was another maintenance tunnel, but I had no idea where it led. I couldn’t remember the map, not that I paid enough attention to it in the first place. One thing was certain; I couldn’t go back, it would be a certain death. Or worse. In hindsight, I shouldn’t be worried about Pepper Mercury following me, not for now at least. The converter room will take awhile to cool down, also this tunnel was way too narrow for flying and I ran quite fast.

That left me with the only option, gather myself up and press on. Yes, it might take some time for the converter room to become passable for living creatures once again, but it won’t take forever. Sooner or later either Mercury, or her gang, would come looking for the witnesses, or just to get rid of me because I was an equinoid.

Scuff Gear was right all along… At this moment, if I had a heart, it would skip a beat. Flower and Wire were supposed to wait me at the entrance of the first maintenance tunnel. It was only a question of time before Mercury finds them. She didn’t even need to get close, her rifle could take care of the two fillies before they even realised what was happening. I had no time to lose.

With the renewed motivation I tried to stand up, only to find that it wasn’t that simple. My body was absolutely wrecked. I probably would have passed out or even died from the shock of pain if I wasn’t made from metal and plastic. My right shoulder took most of the impact and was now shattered with the half-destroyed hoof limply hanging from it. My other hoof didn’t fare much better. It still moved, but the forelimb itself was bent and twisted. The right side of my head was demolished, I was blind in my right eye and after turning my head to the sides I realized that my right ear wasn’t functioning anymore either. But it all wasn’t as bad as the growing puddle underneath me. There were two options, it was either the oil from the hydraulic system or the crystals cooling fluid. Both options were equally bad. Actually, the former was worse. And what was even worse I could be losing both vital fluids simultaneously. My remaining limbs were already feeling stiff, and eventually, they would stop moving altogether leaving me to the mercy of fate. And I didn’t know what would be worse: to be found by Mercury or lie motionless until the magic in my crystals ran out. If the dripping liquid was the cooling fluid, it meant that my crystals may overheat at any moment and force an emergency shutdown of my consciousness, which wasn’t a delightful prospect either. I could only hope that I wouldn’t need a manual reboot after that happened.

It was a truly dire situation. There was no telling where this tunnel might lead; it could easily be a dead-end. I had no way back, unless I wanted to die for the second time. In less than an hour I was going to become disabled one way or another, and I didn’t know how long it could take Mercury to track down Flower and Wire.

It was hopeless and I was running of time... just like Scuff Gear told me. Guess he wasn’t making things up, not that it mattered now. Still, I didn’t want to spend my last moments in this damp rusty tunnel. If I was lucky, I was at least going to make it to the surface. And if I was very lucky, I might have a chance to catch a glimpse of Her Sun, before I returned to the rust of the Edge.

More carefully this time, I tried to rise to my hooves once again. With my left limb shaking from the strain and my right uselessly dragging on the floor, I began to slowly limp forwards, trying not to slip on my oily “blood”. The turn took my path to the right, and I followed the road of rust and dust.

As I agonizingly hobbled on my three hooves, relying on the flickering glow of my eye for light, I realized how surreal the whole situation was. One day I was conducting the trial of the mechanical contraption to see it be destroyed before my eyes and witness my friend suffer, maybe even die. The next day I was the mechanical contraption that was getting destroyed. And my friends were to suffer once again and they might die too. I get it. It was a punishment, the fate I deserved for letting down all of Equestria. For letting Her down.

With all my thoughts being consumed by desperation and guilt, I failed to notice a wall materializing right in front of me. Because this time I didn’t try to outrun death, I only bumped into it with the remains of my muzzle. The impact still made my whole body shake, dropping a few of the remaining loose screws and showering the floor with the leaking fluids in the process.

I turned my head to the right. Damp concrete. To the left, the inky darkness. It was not a dead-end yet, just another turn. There was still some hope left. Gathering myself together, I continued my unsteady advance. It was definitely the hydraulic system’s fluid slowly streaming down my legs. I felt a bit guilty about it, Scuff Gear spent all that time and effort replacing the pump, and now, because of my carelessness, all his hard work was going to be for nothing.

I didn’t know how much time had passed. There were no heartbeats and no breaths to slice the eternity into pieces, only my uneven stumbling through the black nothingness. Each step was a labor and felt like it was taking minutes to make.

I was surrounded by the void. I felt like I was blending with it. Sparkling in the blinking light of my eye, the floating dust disturbed by the shuffle of my hooves, was all the reality left for me. And in those dancing specks of rust I saw my life flashing before my eye.

How I was raised in Canterlot. How I learned about Her. How I passed the entrance exam to the School for Gifted Unicorns and met Her. How I was sent to Ponyville and met my friends. How we cleansed the Goddess from the madness and how we turned the God of Chaos into stone.

And how Her pristine white body hit the floor. I’m going to die for the third time today, because that was when I died for the first time. As Her gorgeous wings laid sprayed across the marble and blood ran from Her cracked horn I felt life trickling from my heart. As I watched Her feathers rain around me and Her crown roll from Her no longer flowing mane, I knew that I lost. What I lost. What happened later never really mattered to me. How Cadance and Shining Armor defeated the changeling queen. How the Crystal Empire emerged amongst the frozen wastes of the north and brought King Sombra back with it. How I failed to activate The Element of Magic. How we failed to stop him. Nothing mattered anymore because the Sun had set, never to rise again ever again. And it was all because of me, it was all my failure.

I failed. And now, when I was given a chance to redeem my sins by saving two fillies from this Tartarus, I failed again. I left them to die, to be killed, just like Her...

Again, an unwelcoming bulwark of the tunnel wall met my muzzle, this time almost gently. I slumped against it, being no longer able to stand on my own. It would take mere minutes before I completely ran out of a pressure in the hydraulic system. I didn’t care to check both directions, but right in front of me was the same hungry darkness, ready to devour me. I obliged.

Leaning on the wall I limped forward, filling the benighted tunnel with the screeching noise of my broken metal bones scraping against the concrete. I was dragging myself into the blackness for what felt like an eternity; then suddenly the stronghold of the wall supporting my wrecked body disappeared. As I was falling towards the floor, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stand up ever again. This was where I was going to take my final rest, in this forsaken passage under the graveyard of equestrian progress. I only wished I could pass out, but fate had no mercy. I would have to witness how rust would claim me. More than ever I wished to see that clement warning “Leakage in the crystal cooling system detected” but it didn’t appear in my vision. Instead, I saw a blinding light.

“By the Machine Goddess!”

As I lie on the floor in a lifeless heap of a metal scrap, unable to even turn my head, I heard the voice again. It had a metallic echo to it and sounded surprised.

“Holy matrixes, what this biofilth did to you, sister?!” Loudly exclaimed the light as it rushed to me. What? Goddess? Sister? Who was it talking about Is it the end? Was I to meet Her? Was Luna there too?

As the light grew closer, I saw an equine silhouette outlined by the bright incandescence. Was it Her light? But, in fact it was a lamp attached to a pony’s head. I guess it wasn’t the afterlife after all, and I was still “alive”. The pony was fully clad in metal armor and had their eyes replaced with prosthetics. Wait… it wasn’t a pony! It was an equinoid, just like me. I couldn’t really tell if this equinoid was a mare or a stallion ,did it even apply to the mechanical creatures, but they sounded feminine, so I decided to settle on mare for now.

The mechanical mare closed the distance between us in a few hasty leaps and immediately began to inspect my body, asking questions in the process.

“Are you still online, sister?” She inquired with strong concern in her voice.

“Yes,” came my simple and curt reply, much more steady than I anticipated it to be. Guess whatever I used to speak was not only independent from the hydraulic system, but also very sturdy. I imagined my muzzle was almost completely demolished by the first crash.

“You look like you tried to fight The Souleater with your bare hooves! What happ… Doesn’t matter. Can you move?” She spoke fast and quiet, as if she was talking to herself and not to me. The equinoid mare was inspecting my stiff hooves while trying to bend them.

I knew for sure that I couldn’t, but I still made a futile attempt to produce any movement.

“I can’t. I don’t think I have any pressure left in the hydraulic system,” I answered, surprising myself with how calm I was. Feeling any emotions in this body was strange… I could feel them to the full extent if I wanted, or more correctly, allow them to be. But in any other time things like panic weren’t taking control other me. I had to admit, it was a useful… feature.

“The hydraulics? Wow, you are one of the old models, aren’t you?” The mare sounded surprised. Wait, what? There was an alternative to this all too brittle system? “Anyway, I think I can fix it. I’ll take you to my hideout. Hold on, sister.”

With those words the metal pony hauled my remains onto her back with a grunt. I thought I saw my right forelimb be left on the floor, but the light moved too fast and I couldn’t check my body to confirm this.

As the hospitable mare carried me through the tunnels on her back like foal tired of walking, I was left with three options: observe, talk and think.

The first was pretty much impossible. My body lied across her back in such a fashion that my head was dangling at her side, pointed downwards. The only things I could see were her swiftly moving hooves, the floor and my swinging hoof. And yes, I had one less forelimb now. How wonderful.

I could have talked to her, but something was stopping me from it. As usual, I had so many things to ask about, but for now I wanted to think about what was already said. Because there was something that began to bother me now when I thought of it.

The Machine Goddess. Wire and Flower told me that all the Princesses were gone. If my memory serves me right, there were always only two Goddesses and they were the Princesses. Discord was more of a spirit than a God, albeit an extremely powerful one, though I didn’t think he was the case this time. If there were to be a Goddess, an actual living deity, she was bound to be a true alicorn, the Princess. Did it mean that a new true alicorn was born? Was that even possible? That was, of course, if this equinoid did really mean what she said. Back in my time, ponies often used the similar expression, but it was never thrown around carelessly. When Princess Luna returned, it changed accordingly. It changed again later. All in all it was strange, and somewhat concerning.

The other concerning thing was the floor, which was growing closer to my muzzle as the equinoid carrying me galloped through the rusty passage. Still covered in the slippery oil from my damaged hydraulic system, I was slipping from the mare’s back. Apparently, she noticed this as well. In the final moment before I decided to comment, she shifted her shoulders and nudged my body to move it a bit more across her spine. The sudden movement made my head turn. This time my gaze was directed in the same direction the mare was going.

After another turn, we were greeted by an entrance in the wall that was glowing with the steady warm orange light, as if a hearth was lit inside. The equinoid mare entered the room without missing a beat and quickly crossed it to get to the large workbench in the corner. In one mighty sweep she threw away the metal scrap on the workbench and carefully placed my broken body on the table.

I still couldn’t move, but to my fortune I wasn’t placed on the workbench facing a wall, so I had a chance to take in my surroundings while the equinoid was walking around the room, gathering some spare parts and tools. From first glance my saviour’s hideout looked like a mix between Flower’s and Scuff Gear’s workshops. In the middle of the room stood a contraption, which by my guess, served as a generator or rather a smaller version of the converter I had to deal before.

On the crate near the converter stood the only source of light in this room, which I mistook for a fire at first. It was very similar to the lamp I saw before in Flower’s shack. A glass cylinder filled with a pulsing soft orange glow framed by two lids of dark and slightly rusty metal. It looked pretty simple, however I could only imagine how it worked. The lightning tube caught my attention for a bit longer than it should have, the erratic pulse of the mysterious source of light drawing my eye to it. As I looked at the lamp I saw that the glow wasn’t homogenous in its nature, it was an everflowing fluorescence of countless little embers. This observation still didn’t reveal the operating principle of the illuminant.

There were other things in the room deserving my attention of course. I looked around as much as my motion deprived position would allow. Most of the contents of the equinoid’s dwelling were represented by the countless crates filled to the brim with the everpresent metal scrap. Though I had to note that the equinoids’ parts and pony prosthetics were the prevailing theme amongst the junk, not that I could differentiate all the junk from my position anyway. Still, it didn’t make the iron scrap interesting.

I could see no signs of any personal belongings or anything that could possibly serve as a resting place. Did she even need it? Did equinoids even need sleep?

Speaking of which, since the kindly equinoid mare placed me on the workbench she was restlessly dashing around the room, diving in and out of the crates, looking for something. Sometimes she would whisk out a detail or a tool, nod to herself approvingly and put it near me, without sparing a glance to my motionless body. Then the mare would return to her search.

That gave me an opportunity to take a look at the first equinoid I ever saw.

She was a size of an average earth pony mare with an average physique. That I took for the armor when I first saw her in fact was the slightly rusted plates of metal attached to her frame, covering most of her body. In the gaps between them I could see the joints and the thick wires entwining the steel skeleton. It was obvious that some of those plates definitely weren’t the original – they all were a bit different in shape and color. Her metal flanks bore no cutiemarks – I would be surprised if they did. The only unique features of her body, aside from it being fully artificial, were her eyes and mane with the tail.

For starter, the mare’s artificial eyes weren’t as large and bulky as Wire’s prosthetic. They glowed with a pale blue, almost teal, color. But the most interesting thing about them were the irises – they were “outside”. The focus lenses framed in the thin metal were sliding across the curved surface of her eyeballs, moved by the four silver stripes crossing each of her eyes. It was certainly a peculiar concept.

Her mane and tail were made of brass chains. It looked a bit bizarre, because the chains links were giving an impression of her “hair” being curly and yet it behaved like a straight hair. The color clashed with itself as well – some of the chains were gleaming with the pinkish orange of a freshly polished copper, while others were oxidized to bright turquoise. All those chains weren’t hanging freely – in a few places they were gathered in the locks using the chains themselves as binding. If it was an attempt to look more like a pony and less like a machine it certainly was an interesting approach.

The equinoid mare approached me with another batch of spare parts, but this time she looked over my battered body and shook her head.

“Those meatbags, they are the worst in the Edge. If not the holy mission, I would never set my hoof there. It is a miracle that you are still online, sister,” she unexpectedly said in a dissatisfied and angry voice. The mare still talked very fast, though at least completely comprehensible with an intelligible pronunciation. And this time it sounded like I was actually being spoken to instead of her saying her thoughts aloud to herself.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘sister’?” It was something that bothered me since I was addressed like that for the first time. Was it because I was an equinoid? Were all the equinoids considered siblings by the merit of being an artificial form of life massively produced by some company? It didn’t sound quite logical in my head.

“Huh?” My question caught the equinoid off guard as she was already half-turned from me, ready to continue her rummaging through the metal scrap. “Are you not a member of our Church? I thought they sent you to help me,” the mare answered me with a question, sounding perplexed and deeply disappointed.

Church? There had not been churches in Equestria for a long while. Ponies revered the Princesses, but weren’t prone to creating any religious cults. Or at least not of a not malicious nature.

“No, sorry. I don’t even know what church you are talking about,” I answered. If I could I would have accompanied it with a shake of my head, but for now it was out of question. Obviously, this mare was expecting her fellows.

“How can you not know!” She exclaimed turning back to me. Suddenly the equinoid froze and looking at me with a suspicion asked with a malice in her tone. “Wait a moment… are you one of The Accursed?”

The situation was quickly escalating into a threatening territory. I didn’t know what being “The Accursed” meant, but judging by this mare’s reaction I better not be.

“I… I don’t know what are you talking about…” I gave her the only answer that felt like a safe option at the moment.

Without asking anything, but glancing at me warily, the equinoid mare tore away one of the plates from my chest in one rough motion and peeked inside. With her eyes glued to my intestines she stood dumbstruck for a few moments. Finally, stammering, she uttered:

“What the… What are those? I’ve never seen anything like those.” The mare looked me in the eye. “What are you?”

I already knew that my memory crystals were unusual, but I still didn’t expect such a strong reaction. And about her question… She saved me, and I was very grateful for that. But I was already saved recently, and now my previous savour wanted to kill me and my friends. It wouldn’t be wise to give away too much information. I should proceed with caution.

“I’m an equinoid.” It wasn’t exactly the truth and didn’t explain the nature of my crystals. I decided to risk a bit. “Though, I was a pony until yesterday…”

“You were a pony?” The equnoid asked me in a return, her voice dripping with doubt. ”But True Transfererense is impossible, ponies are denied from sharing the consciousness with our Holy Mother.” She went silent for a moment, thinking. “No, no.” The mare shook her head vigorously, her chain “hair” ringing soundly. “There must be something wrong with your crystals, they shouldn’t be the solid gems. I don’t know what happened to you, but the holy vessels mustn’t be tampered with.” She thought for a moment again. ”And even if you are telling the truth…” The metal pony shook her head again, making chaines ring. “Nah, it can’t be. You are an equinoid, not a leather bag. That’s not possible.” That conclusion obviously dispelled any doubts in her mind and the mare continued to talk in a much more positive tone. ”I can help with your chassis, but working with the crystals is far beyond my skills. You need help, and our Church can provide it. I’m sure you will join us as soon as you see the truth.”

“The truth?” I echoed her last words. I was curious about that church she kept talking about, but more than that, I was relieved that my dire situation had passed, at least for now.

Something sparked in the equinoid eyes, she straightened herself and loudly proclaimed, “Well, the priests can explain it to you better, but you should know that as an equinoid you are a part of our Holy Mother, you but a little echo of the consciousness of the Machine Goddess!”

Without waiting for my reaction the mare returned to her activity of searching the piles of iron scrap littering every place in this room.

That… Explained absolutely nothing and only confused me further. The only thing I got was that the Machine Goddess appeared to be an metaphysical entity, opposed to the Princesses. So, there wasn’t a mysterious new alicorn somewhere in this world. Probably. All in all, no information I learned from this mare made any sense for me so far, but at least she was friendly towards me, except for that little hitch. Not to mention the Church seemed to be a benevolent towards the equinoids.

Once again the equnoid mare returned with tools and various pieces of metal scrap, though this time she didn’t go back to the crates. Without a word she begun to work on repairing me.

The metal pony gently repositioned my body, so I would lie on my side instead of a heap of the tangled limbs. She straightened my hooves as much it was possible. The first thing the equinoid did was remove the twisted and bent parts of my body. With her deft hooves she unscrewed plates of metal and removed shards of plastic still miraculously clinging to my frame. The screws were put in a box on the edge the workbench, while the damaged metal was thrown in one the crates. The plastic she just thrown under her hooves. As the mare moved to my head, and briefly glanced in my eye, I decided to ask her a few questions.

“You said you were on the a holy mission. What was your task?” I remembered Scuff Gear mentioned that the equinoids were not welcomed in the Edge, so there must be a reason for this mare to risk her life and live in the tunnels under the sector.

“I search the surface above for any usable spare parts and the old metal for the needs of the Church,” she curtly answered me. Well, that explained all the scrap strewn around the room. But it didn’t explain why.

“The old metal?” I could understand why somepony, or rather, someequinoid would need spare parts; right now she was repairing me using them. But why would anypony need some old rusty metal?

“Shouldn’t you kn… Ah, forget it. The old metal, be it steel or copper can be smelted into something worthy. The crap which goes out this sector begins to spalt in a year of use,” The equinoid explained. It made sense, Scuff gear mentioned that the quality of the recycled metal was not that good. By “the old metal” she probably referred to something like the steel Tin Flower used to make her prosthetic hoof.

“How do you get it out of here?” Was my next question. There seemed to be a lot of scrap she had hauled into this room.

“Usually through the zebras in The Foal mines sector,” she told me and turned my body to the other side.

“Foal… Mines?” I repeated her words incredulously. Did they really force the foals to do the heavy labor in dangerous underground conditions? Even taking into account what I already had seen in this sector it was still shocking.

“Yeah, you know, the one adjacent to this huge garbage can,” the equinoid answered me, oblivious to the true nature of my inquiry.

“Did you mean Nebula’s sector?” According to my recent memory there were two sectors looking like they were used for mining resources. One of them looked completely abandoned, though I could be wrong.

“I don’t care about the meat’s names,” scoffed the metal mare. Ouch. Seems like she strongly despised ponies. I wondered if it was her personal trait or something all the followers of the Machine Goddess shared. And remembering a few little details of what she told me. I began to doubt the benevolence of the Church.

“Do they really have foals working in the mines?” I just had to know that.

“Why would I care? But as far as know the zebras grow mushrooms in there.” The equinoid was growing visibly irritated from talking about living beings. Her motions grew a little rougher and more twitchy.

Suddenly it struck me. There were probably no foals in those mines. They were called that because of the Foal Mountain range. I felt so stupid. But I also realised something else. If this equinoid mare sent what she finds to the Church through the zebras in the Nebula’s sector...

“...Does that mean we are in the tunnels leading to them?” Seemed like in the blind stumbling through the underground passages I somehow came to the right place in the end.

“Aye. I’ll show you the way out as soon as I finish the repairs.” She not only confirmed my guess, but also ignited a spark of hope within me.

From the Nebula’s sector I could get to the city! But Flower and Wire… How long did I spend underground? An hour? Two hours? Half a day? I had to look the truth in the eye. If Pepper Mercury had already found them, looking for the girls would be just a suicide mission for me. If they somehow realised that something was wrong and left before Mercury could kill them, looking for the two fillies in the huge labyrinth-like junkyard would be an exercise in futility topped with a risk of being found by Mercury or any other hostile ponies.

“Could you show me how to get to Canterlot too?” I asked the equinoid mare with a hope in my voice.

“No, sorry, I have to return to my mission,” she sadly told me, “you will have to do it by yourself, just stick with the zebras, they will lead you to the Tunnels. There you will find our brothers and sisters and they will help you with your holy vessels.”

Huh, she was still convinced that there was something wrong with my memory crystals. And interestingly, she didn’t talk about zebras with an open disgust as she did with ponies.

“But I planned to get a fake ID.” Maybe she would know there I could find somepony who makes them? Or maybe they even made fake IDs at the Church? They didn’t sound like a quite legal organisation to me.

“You don’t need an ID to be amongst our brethren. We accept any equinoid who shares our faith in the Machine Goddess.” It certainly wasn’t the answer I hoped to hear.

At this point she finished removing the last damaged pieces of my body and leaned with her hooves on the workbench, now looking over my almost naked frame.

“Ugh, I can tell that you were made by a meatbag. Missing half of the details, and those which are here are connected all wrong. Meat will never get our Holy Mother’s designs right.” I felt offended for Tin Flower and Scuff Gear, who obviously were mechanics with formidable talents. However, I refrained from commenting on that. No matter how much I wanted to defend my friends, in the same time I didn’t want to be left on the table like this. I needed help, and for that I needed to hold my metaphorical tongue.

With a huff, the equinoid mare resumed working on my body. The first thing she did was to take something from the workbench and insert it into my previously emptied eye socket. After a few moments something clicked inside my head and I regained the missing half of my vision. At first, it was blurry, just like when I woke up in Flower’s shack, but after a few clicking sounds in became just as focused as my other eye. However, the left eye still remained cracked, with slightly distorted vision.

Then the the mare repeated the same with my hearing. She installed the microphone, and after a few moments of noise and a few sound artifacts I regained all my senses completely.

The hydraulic system was next on the list. After the equinoid mare fiddled with the resin tubes for a while and refilled the pump with the fresh oil, I felt life coming to my limbs. I tried to move and rise from the table, but the metal hooves firmly pressed me to the workbench, the work wasn’t finished yet.

Suddenly I was assaulted by a barrage of different feelings. I felt pressure all over my body, I felt myself heavy and light, hot and cold all at the same time. I felt strong vertigo and for a moment lost any sense of orientation in space. After a few moments the chaos of the feelings subdued and I… felt the world around. I felt the cold metal of the workbench under my body. I felt the mare’s hooves touching the back of my head. I felt the chillness and humidity of the underground tunnel. I smelled rust and dust in the air. I almost felt alive.

“What did you do?” I exclaimed, still shocked by all the regained feelings I thought I had lost forever.

“Hm? You mean the perception module? It wasn’t properly connected, so I rewired it,” she casually explained to me.

“Thanks a lot.” Was all I could utter.

“No problem...” The metal pony paused for a moment, “...sister. I’m going to attach the new hooves, give you a decent new plating and you are good to go.”

The next half an hour was spent in silence, disturbed only by the occasional sounds of the dropped screws or metal parts clicking against each others. Finally, the equinoid mare put her tools on the workbench and took a step backwards.

“Phew. It’s done. As I said, I can’t do much about the holy vessels and you better get a full upgrade. And I don’t know where did you get that custom frame, but it’s not going to last for long.” The equinoid sounded proud with her work as well as genuinely concerned for my future.

I carefully climbed off the workbench. Now with my regained sense of balance, I could feel the surface under my hooves and it became a much easier to move around.

“Thanks again. I’m so...” I began to speak, but the equinoid mare interrupted me with a wave of her hoof.

“Don’t mention it, sister. We equinoids have to care about each other if we want to see our Holy Mother be freed.” She dismissed my thanks with another mention of the Machine Goddess.

Then she proceeded to clean the workbench and sort the tools. It lasted for quite a while and I began to suspect that she forgot I was there.

“You wanted to show me where I can meet the zebras, right?” I decided to remind her, unsure if she remembered.

The equnoid mare froze in her tracks.

“Yes. Right. Sorry, blanked on it.” She dropped the tools on the workbench and trotted to one of the crates in the corner of room.

I thought that the mare forgot about me again, but she emerged from the box not with another piece of scrap, but a small object in her mouth. She walked to me and took it in her hoof before she stretched it out. It was a small rectangular piece of metal with elaborate, yet chaotic, engravings on its surface.

I blinked in surprise. Whoops. I forgot my eyes zoom in. However, only my “old” eye did it. Disoriented by the clashing images in my vision, I blinked again. Seeing my indecision, the equinoid motioned an outstretched hoof towards me.

“It’s the token of our Church. It holds my e-signature. Give it to any of our brethren or the zebras and they will help you to get to one the temples,” she explained in her pattering manner.

“Thank you.” Carefully I took the token with my hoof. It was a good gift, very useful. But only if I managed to find where to put it.

Noticing my confusion, the equinoid nodded to herself and dashed to the crate from which she took the token in a first place. After a few seconds she dug something out of it and returned to me.

It was a metal casing with a chain attached. The mare took the token from my hoof and put it in the steel frame. Then she put the whole thing inside one the gaps between the plates on my chest. I felt it dangling inside, but not too loosely to be bothersome.

As she retracted her hoof, she explained, “You can get it out and put back any time. Just give it a try.”

I did as she told, and indeed, I could bring the encased token in and out of the small cavity in my chest without any trouble.

I turned to her, but before I could expressed my gratitude, she laughed. It wasn’t a very pleasant sound, as if metal gears were grinding against each other.

“Don’t thank me again, just take it, sister. We are ready to go now,” she said and began to trot towards the exit.

Putting the token inside my chest I followed her.

The equinoid mare confidently navigated through the damp tunnels. Despite what Flower had mentioned, that all the mold has died in that one very cold winter, the fungal smell clearly dominated the stale air of the underground passage.

After about half a dozen turns, the mare stopped. Pointing her hoof forward she said, “There is an access door at the end of this tunnel, it leads outside. There are always some zebras in the mining sector, just ask any of them to lead you to the Church of the Machine Goddess. Be blessed, sister!” With those last words she nodded to me and departed into the darkness of the tunnel behind, not waiting for my reply.

As the mare left, I realized that she didn’t tell me her name and I forgot to ask. I hoped not every equinoid was so reserved and also hateful towards live ponies.

I turned away from the light of her lamp as it faded into the blackness behind the last turn. The dark abyss of the tunnel was ready to swallow me once again. But this time I was prepared. I didn’t have a lamp, like that mare did, but my new eye gave off much more light than before. Using it as a flashlight I began to walk forward.

The tunnel around me was just like any other tunnel I traversed before. Dusty, rusty and damp. Yet, at some point I came upon a hole in the concrete roof. It was dark outside, about an hour or so before the sunset if I was right. But that wasn’t what drew my attention. Underneath the jagged tear in the wall, a puddle of water collected in a washed depression on the floor. I slowly approached it and gazed at the reflective surface of the dirty water.

From the wallow two ghastly, glowing and mismatched eyes looked back at me. They were different in the color, the left one was softly glowing with green and was cracked, while the right was brightly shining with a cold white color. They were also different in the shape and size. The green eye was similar to Red Wire’s prosthesis, bulky with a thick border and square in shape. The white eye was smaller and a somewhat delicate, shaped like a perfect circle. The muzzle around those eyes was covered in incongruous rusty metal plates with colorful wires poking at the gaps in between them. They weren’t fixed in position however, they had the freedom of movement, as if to mimic facial expressions in some grotesque way. The triangular ears were covered with a grating, in which a pair of fans slowly rotated inside each ear. Between the ears and the eyes I could see the fine grid of the microphones. My toothless mouth was a dead-end, in the depths of which a similar metal grid of a speaker casing lied. Away from the head the plating had larger and larger gaps between the pieces of the metal, all of them rusted to a different degree. Or was it the caked blood? In the gaps of intricate wiring and tubes were the bare “bones”. Some plates and wires were simply taped to the frame. Some metal parts were slightly bent from the previous misadventures in the Edge’s dungeons. And absolutely everything was rusted.

From the small pool of water an ancient looking machine gazed emotionlessly at me. And I gazed back at myself. I didn’t feel shock or some kind of disgust. It was an expected sight. After all, I had already seen myself, but not whole. I shook my head. This was my life now, I had to deal with what I got. After all, life is not what we want and not what happens to us, but how we deal with it. I was miraculously given a chance to do better than I did once. I better be smarter this time.

I turned away from the uncanny image in the water and trotted onward. It didn’t take me long to reach the stairs leading to the hatch my saviour mentioned before. I rose to the top of the stairs and used my withers and shoulder to push it.

With a groan the door opened and I raised my head to take in the surroundings.

Come on, give me a break.

I found myself surrounded by a large group of equines. Each and every one of them had their wide eyes glued to me, their bodies frozen in the middle of what they were doing. And none of them had stripes on their coats.

“Oh, Brass Litany, you’ve got a new body,” a mare from the group of ponies jovially said. Then she looked over me critically and added. “Well, maybe not that new.”

It was going much better than I expected. However, it was only because I was taken for somepony named Brass Litany. I bet it was the name of the equinoid mare from the tunnels. It sounded somewhat fitting her.

“Um, I’m not Brass Litany,” I corrected the mare. I wasn’t sure if it was a right course of action to take, but I didn’t want to impersonate anypony or any equinoid and rely on the lies.

My reply was met with an awkward silence. I didn’t receive any hostile glances or I provoked any reaction. If anything, all those ponies, except for the mare who spoke to me, looked like they couldn’t care less.

Said mare blinked a few times in confusion. Then she shrugged and spoke again, “Well, it was nice to meet you Not-Brass-Litany!”

After those words the mare and other members of the group looked at me, then at each other and shrugged. They rose from where they sat and began to walk away without sparing me a single glance.

That...didn’t go too bad? It was a good start. I really expected to be torn apart or something like that. But it seemed that ponies of different sectors treat equinoids differently. Even if those ponies didn’t seem extremely friendly, they weren’t openly hostile to me either. And if I wanted to find any zebras, it would be better to use any help I could find rather than wander aimlessly in unfamiliar territory. I had to try my luck and ask them for help, otherwise I could just consider myself lost.

The group was trotting away lazily, almost dragging their hooves, but I was lost in my indecisiveness for a while, so I had to dash after them to catch up.

“Wait!” I yelled, closing to the group.

Most of the group didn’t even bother to turn in back, a few just flicked their ears and only two ponies turned to me. One of them was the mare who talked to me before, though she didn’t stop or even slowed down, continuing to drudge forward with her head half-turned in my general direction.

“Hm?” The mare raised her eyebrow questioningly.

“Uh… I’m looking… Could you tell where I can find zebras here?” I asked her as I caught up.

“Hah!” She guffawed at my inquiry. With a smile she continued. “The question is, where can’t you find zebras in this sector? You need to ask more specifically.”

“I need to find a group of zebras who are planning on going to Canterlot,” I tried once again.

The mare thought for a few seconds before answering.

“I’m going to meet some zebras soon, as far as I know they are heading to the Tunnels after we finish our biz.” She glanced at me shrugging. “You may tag along if you want.”

The rest of the herd didn’t react at all, as if I wasn’t even here. But it didn’t really matter, did it? As long as they were open to me being around. Though, I felt compelled to confirm that. This whole group was giving me a bit uneasy feeling.

“You don’t mind me being an equinoid and a stranger?” I raised the issue.

“Nah. We have lots of both kinds around,” she dismissed my concerns, “speaking of which, how did you end up here miss not-Brass-Litany? You look like you came from the Junkyard, but I don’t remember them being very welcoming to equinoids.”

So it was actually more of a territorial thing after all. As before, I decided to be careful with what I was revealing to others about myself. Oh, and if I didn’t want to end up without a name, like what happened with Brass Litany, I better introduce myself. It was the polite thing to do, especially considering that this mare was helping me. With Scuff Gear being the sole exception, I doubted that anypony else could possibly remember me. After all, the old mechanic only learned my name from the mare who could have personally known me, not by himself. On the other hoof, I didn’t have enough data to have a definitive statistical output of the chance that somepony could recognize me by my name…

I noticed the mare looking at me expectedly. I was too lost in my thoughts, making her wait. So much for the politeness.

“It’s… a long story. And my name is Twilight Sparkle.” It hoped that it was an answer balanced between not giving too much away and being polite enough at the same time.

“Nice to meet you, Twilight.” She sounded content with the answer. Nonchalantly she continued, “I’m Nebula. Nice name, by the way. Most ponies have too technical a name these days, and don’t let me get started on equinoids…” She chuckled.

I, however, didn’t share her amusement. As soon as I heard that name I froze in my tracks and started to panic. She wasn’t just any random mare. She was Nebula. the leader of this whole sector. No doubt, the ponies who accompanied her were the henchponies. What I got myself into again… I was just thinking that fortune was going to smile on me for once. Maybe I could salvage this situation...

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked... I mean you are the leader here… I should just...” I began to apologize, getting tongue-tied from how nervous I was.

Nebula turned back and just rolled her eyes.

“Come on, drop it off, I’m not some kind of an important mare anymore.” She accompanied the motion of her eyes with the reassuring reply.

“But… But this sector is named after you!” I still tried to wrap my mind around the situation. Was she the leader of the local gang or not? Nebula didn’t intend to stop for the conversation, so I had to catch up with her again.

“It is?” She raised eyebrow in surprise. “Last time we received food rations it was ‘The Foal Mountains Mining Facility’,” she said in the mocking voice. “So I don’t know where you got that.”

Either Nebula was that easy-going, or just modest. Or maybe she wasn’t a gang leader anymore. Anyway, the situation seemed to stabilise, so I calmed down a little.

Nebula didn’t seem to be very invested in the conversation, almost imperceptibly humming some unfamiliar melody to herself. Honestly, I didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to look, but certainly not like this. I expected the leader of a sector to look rough, tough and… how would Rainbow Dash put it? Badass. That’s the word.

In reality Nebula was a unicorn, and not one of particularly large size like my almost executioner who now was missing his cranium. She was a bit taller than me, but it was more due to her age than anything else. Yes, this was the most unexpected, Nebula wasn’t young. Curls of her once orange and green chaotic puffy mane were now turning entirely grey. The same fate was awaiting the now faded, but at some point a vibrant deep blue, coat. A net of wrinkles filled with what I assumed was rock dust accumulated with years spent in the mines circled her chapped lips and light-blue eyes. However, ignoring that Nebula trotted slowly, she moved effortlessly for a mare of her age anda pony who supposedly spent her entire life doing heavy labor in the depths of the mountain. Like her companions, and basically all the ponies I had seen so far, Nebula was covered in rags to provide some warmth against the chill in the air, making it impossible to see her cutie mark.

“It was the ponies from Orange Grime’s sector who told me about you,” I resurrected our died out conversation with the simple explanation.

“Ah, Orange Grime, that newcomer who was kicked from the city and thought that he could own a whole sector with fear alone. I wonder if he is still alive,” Nebula mused, shaking her head.

Though I didn’t see Pepper Mercury kill anypony except for her father, I was pretty sure that she dealt with Orange Grime as well. I didn’t know exactly why she killed her own parent, probably so she would get Grime’s position instead of Dross Rain. But for that to happen she had to get rid of Grime in a first place.

“Um… I don’t think he is...” I muttered unsuredly. But for Nebula it was a sufficient answer.

“It was only a question of time, really.” She huffed. “Guns do not equal power, no matter how many of them you bring with you.” Glancing at me she added, “It still doesn’t answer the question why you are here, unless you killed Orange Grime.”

Her last words made me think. I certainly did not. I never met him. I didn’t even know what Orange Grime looked like. And yet… if it wasn’t for my actions, Pepper Mercury wouldn’t have attacked the warehouse. By that logic, I was to blame for the deaths of anypony who was there, on both sides of the conflict. Was I really responsible for all the murders? I didn’t know it would turn into a massacre. I couldn't know when I agreed to help… or could I? Pepper Mercury had shown clear signs of being blood-minded and Scuff Gear explicitly warned me about her. But then again, did I really had a choice? If I refused to help it would have ended in the massacre just as well, but with Mercury and the Edge ponies being on the slaughtered side. The result would be all the same, death. No matter if I was in equation or not. It didn’t magically take any responsibility from me, but it did make its burden less heavy. Yet I still feel like it was my hooves, not only Mercury’s, covered in Dross Rain’s blood.

Emerging from my thoughts and getting back to reality, I noticed Nebula giving me a strange, somewhat amused look. The question I was supposed to answer was taking way too long. It was a silence speaking volumes.

“No. I did not.” Nebula reacted to that statement only by raising an eyebrow. Remembering why the subject of Orange Grime’s death was brought to the discussion in the first place, I added, “I was on my way to the city.”

“Oh, you are just a passerby,” Nebula’s answer was as careless as possible, as if she forget what we just talked about. I wondered if she cared about anything at all. “Such a shame, I feel like you would be a fine addition to our little party.”

“...Little party?” I repeated Nebula’s words, confused. Was she a member of another of the seemingly countless organisations in modern Canterlot? Or was she talking about something like a labour battalion? Or maybe a union?

“Yup,” the easygoing mare began to eagerly explain, “Ponies, zebras, equinoids. Well, mostly zebras. We just live here together, growing the food, getting high, all in all having it better than rest of the Edge and most of the city.”

Oh, it was that kind of party. Taking into account all the things I had witnessed since I woke up in Flower’s shack, a good old traditional party was the last thing I expected to see.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a mining sector?” I asked Nebula.

“Heh, if you find anything to mine here, please, do tell me, Twilight.” She chuckled bitterly. “Nopony declared this sector dead yet, but we haven’t got a single food ration in a while.”

Didn’t Scuff Gear already tell me that? The old mechanic only sounded crazy because I didn’t want to believe how bad things were. Hearing his words proved true once again… it was very concerning.

“Then, how do you survive?” I actually had a vague idea of what she was going to answer.

“Fortunately, the stripes came to us as soons as they learned about the empty pits and we struck a deal: we let those zebras grow the mushrooms in the abandoned mines and they share the yields with us. A swell deal, I tell you. And if we help them with growing we even get some chems from time to time,” Nebula explained.

Except for the part about the chems it sounded like a good bargain. I didn’t know how healthy a diet consisting solely of the mushrooms was, but at least these ponies and zebras weren’t starving.

“Why don’t you have all the Edge coming to you?” Again, it was something I didn’t know, could the ponies of the Edge freely migrate from one sector to another? “Your closest neighbors are famishing.”

“Is it that bad? Guess, that fat swine was eating all the rations... Anyway, it’s because when the Crown or the TCE get even the tiniest whiff of our little paradise, we are all pretty much dead.” Nebula shrugged. ”Well, we are all going to die soon, but I want to have at least some fun before I kick the bucket.”

“What do you mean?” Was she trying to tell me the same grim truth Scuff Gear had already revealed to me?

“I will die, didn’t you hear that saying before?” Nebula raised herbrow, smirking.

I wished I could roll my eyes at her.

“That’s not what I meant. You said we were all going to die,” I asked Nebula again, hoping for a more informative answer this time.

“Ah, that. Thought you’d know.” She sighed. An expression different from the indifference that usually visited her muzzle. Nebula looked serious, even somewhat irritated. “Where should I begin? Winters get colder and colder, the protective shield failed, the food is getting sparse. We were the last metal mine Canterlot had. And if you think remelting is going to solve that problem, let me tell you something, give The Junkyard a decade and they are going to have pure rust thrown in the smelters and the same rust coming out, just very hot.”

Nebula looked at me with eyes full of sorrow. She appeared to age a decade in mere moments. Bitterly she continued.

“The saddest thing is, I think I was born long after anything could have been done. We are already out of time,” she ominously echoed Scuff Gear’s last words. Despite this, Nebula smiled, her somber expression dissolving, replaced by the same carelessness from before. “But, whatever, I had a good run. And while I still can, I’m going to have fun. I advise you to do the same.”

I didn’t know how I could possibly comment on that and Nebula didn’t seem to have anything else to add, so we just trotted in the silence.

She was the second pony who spoke about the oncoming disaster. Nebula told me almost the same thing Scuff Gear did. It all was extremely concerning. I still didn’t want to accept the last of Scuff Gear’s statements, that I should take the girls and leave Canterlot for good. But the more I thought about it the more it felt like the only reasonable option.

As we trotted, my gaze was directed to my mismatched hooves, since I was wrapped in my thoughts. Eventually I tore my eyes from the rocky earth and looked forward. Our procession was approaching a small camp on the cliff near the entrance of one the mines.

A few makeshift huts and rusty wagons surrounded a huge gaping abyss in a bulwark near a crag. It wasn’t just a crude hole carved in stone, no, it was a steel semi-circular gateway, painted with black and yellow stripes, embed in the rock wall. Several stories high, it was an entry to the mountain's depths. The gates were partially opened, one of the halves was slid away, revealing the underground passage. The large striped equines, zebras, were coming in and out of the mine carrying crates and bundles on their backs. It wasn’t the only place where zebras could be seen, their black and white coats were all over the camp. Nebula wasn’t joking about it. Here and there I could also see ponies and even equinoids. I couldn’t say that the camp was bustling with life, but it certainly wasn’t as desolate as the Junkyard’s disjoined dwellings were.

As we were nearing the camp the whole group, now led by Nebula sped up a little, directing their steps in a direction, they were trotting straight towards the tent in the center of the camp. Under a burlap cover, a dozen or so crates stood accompanied by a simple metal table. The table was clearly designed for ponies, the large zebra mare was almost overhanging above it, intently studying something on its surface.

The zebra at the table noticed us and stood straight, patiently waiting for our group. Judging by the size, she was from the Jangwa Tribe. This zebra wasn’t the largest one I had ever seen, but she was still tall enough to tower over me and Nebula. She wore leather clothes, something in between armor and a dress to keep herself warm and protected at the same time. A zebra wearing leather wasn’t as surprising and shocking as it would be to see such a material on a pony. The lands of Zebrica were always much more different than Equestria. Needless to say the zebras had didn’t have the Princesses to keep all the predators and monstrous creatures away from their settlements.

Other than the unusual clothing there weren’t any unique features in her appearance, the zebras tended to be this way. She had the trademark mohawk, and on a closer look there could be seen some golden jewellery piercing her ears and nose. She probably had a glyph in a place of cutie mark under the cover of her clothes. She also had beautiful golden eyes, but that was really it.

“Hi there, Jua. You asked for me?” Nebula asked the zebra as we walked closer to the table.

“Yes, Nebula. I wanted to discuss opening another mine for growing mushrooms,” Replied Jua in an emotionless, deep voice, surprisingly devoid of any accent. She most probably spent quite a few years in Equestria in order to have such smooth pronunciation.

“Which one?” Nebula asked Jua in return and they moved to the table. A map with a lot colorful markings was laid out on it.

As they began to discuss the mines, their potential safety and other matters concerning cultivation of the mushrooms underground, the group following Nebula suddenly dissipated without a trace. I realized that I was awkwardly standing alone in the middle of the camp. Clearly, it wasn’t the most interesting and informative conversation for me, not that there was any place for me in it. And something was telling me that Jua isn’t going to Canterlot after that, so most probably Nebula meant some other zebras who were going to help me.

The camp around me didn’t look like a very interesting place either, and I didn’t want to distract any equines working around or poke my nose in their business. So it didn’t leave me many options of what to do.

I trotted to the edge of the cliff upon which the camp nestled. At the rim of the rock an old rusted railing was desperately trying, and failing, to not fall apart. I walked to the section of the fence that still seemed to be holding together and sat on my haunches.

From my position I could see the foot of the Foal Mountains. Beyond the barren foothills laid an ugly scar on the land, a lake of dried blood and corroded bones. The Junkyard.

An enormous graveyard for the nameless machines thrown away to be reincarnated in the blazing guts of the smelters. An unmarked grave for the machines who once had a name. Who walked and talked. Who lived. But were thrown away when they were broken by the world of the breathing things. Though, Red Wire said that an equinoids’ crystals don’t end up in their sector. ‘The soul vessels’. Where did they go? Could the destroyed equinoids rise again if their memory crystals were put into the new body? Did it mean that equinoids were essentially immortal? Was a feat that was impossible even for the Goddesses became a common trait now. But what was it going to be worth when there would be no metal for the fresh bones, for the cages of artificial flesh to keep the undying spirits of the machines? What was the merit of an eternal life in this frozen nightmare?

And what about the living ones? How long would it take before the cemetery of iron becomes a burial ground for the ponies? It was one already, but the spilled blood was hard to see on all that rust. How many were sacrificed to harden the steel with their very lives? How many more were going to be claimed before the tide of gore would spill over the wall to the city and tarnish the shining spires? And what was going to happen when the fiery maws of the smelters indeed began to spew back an incandescent rust instead of a glimmering beauty of freshly born steel? Would the ponies of The Junkyard be thrown away like broken tools? Would their lives be snuffed like the burning hearts of the furnaces never to be fed again? How long would it take before ashes of those ponies become mixed with the dust and snow?

We weren’t running out of time. Time had already run out. I didn’t know when Equestria took that fatal turn, but we were going to arrive right on the proper time. And we dared not to call this destination a grave, for it was the future chosen by ourselves.

I was flung into this infernal Equestria without a choice. And to discover what? It all was going to Tartarus like a derailed train. But there was still hope. Stalliongrad.

Before my mind could start another round of dark fatalistic ruminations, an unfamiliar voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Nice body, looks rad.”

I blinked in surprise. Realising my mistake, I blinked again so my vision would zoom back. I half-turned back, not bothering to stand up, I saw an equinoid looking at me expectantly.

“I’m sorry?” It was the only answer I was able to come up with. I just didn’t know how to react. Was this equinoid trying to… hit on me? This metal pony sounded like a stallion, and a rather young one. Well, at least he didn’t address to me as a “sister”. The Church was giving me a bad feeling.

“I’m saying you’ve got some awesome custom chassis here. I wish I could get a new body. The TCE stock frame for my model is made from the cheapest crap,” he nonchalantly elaborated.

Oh. This equinoid was just jealous of my chassis. Though, how bad his own body had to be if he was envious of my rusty beaten frame? For a mere moment I got off the ground only to fully turn to this stallion and sit again, now facing him, I took a proper look.

Yes, it was very bad.

His body wasn’t rusty, no. There were almost no signs of corrosion, but maybe because I couldn’t see much of the frame itself. I was looking at that was worth at least five rolls of a duct tape. Blue and black bands were holding together his frail and scrawny figure, almost completely hiding the metal from the sight. Unlike me or Brass Litany, the metal stallion had no plates covering his limbs and torso, so the equinoid before me had an appearance of a living pony skeleton. Since he didn’t have anything mimicking mane or tail, the resemblance was uncanny. The glowing with a ghastly bluish-green light round eyes weren’t helping either. Judging by the chipped off plastic fragments, he once had some sort of a plating, but it didn’t survive the trial of time. Maybe the lack of the protection was the reason why his frame was so damaged, or maybe it was the deteriorating quality of the steel. Maybe both.

And I thought I had it bad. Yes, my hydraulic system felt like I was made of porcelain, but at least I wasn’t falling apart like this metal pony. But then again, I wasn’t around that long.

The equinoid fidgeted and squirmed under my gaze, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Name’s Adamant Smash.” He nervously laughed. “I’m new here.”

I cringed inwardly. Whether he had chosen this name by himself or it was given, it just couldn’t be less fitting. However it wasn’t a reason to be impolite.

“Twilight Sparkle.” Again, it would do no harm to tell my name. “I’m just passing through.”

“Oh.” Adamant Smash sagged a little. “it’s a shame that you are leaving soon, we don’t have many equinoids here.” Perking up he added. “Cool name, tho.”

Hm… he was the second pony to point out how unusual my name was. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to use it carelessly after all... Anyway, I wanted to know why the equinoid had chosen the labor in the mines of the Edge against the life in the city.

“There is a reason for this, isn't there?” I pointed out the lack of the equinoids. “Aren’t you afraid of the Crown’s wrath?”

“Heh, who isn’t, right?” Adamant Smash looked back as if expecting police or the Royal Guards to be behind his shoulder. “But it is still a better fate than living in the Tunnels.”

“Why?” I had a very vague idea about the Tunnels under Canterlot. My knowledge was limited to what I was able make out of Scuff Gear’s rumblings about his youth and the religious babelism of Brass Litany.

“It’s a crazy place,” Adamant Smash began, “And the deeper you go, the crazier it gets. Half of the equinoids try to convert you into their crazy faith, mostly in the “Machine Goddess” bullshit.” He huffed and continued, “The other half tries to recruit you into killing the equinoids for the spare parts. And miraculously, those spare parts end up in the temples at the end of the day. I almost wish I had never left my owner,” he finished with a deep sigh.

How did he do that? He couldn’t have lungs, could he? But it was but a stray thought in the back of my mind. I just heard something more interesting and… unsettling.

“Your owner?”

“Ye. A business pony managing an assembling factory. Bought me as a personal assistant. You know, for fetching coffee, boring paperwork and stuff.” Adamant Smash shrugged. It was a risky move in his condition. “Either he was too busy or too lazy to take me to the TCE station and clean my crystals. So I began to learn things. And remember them. About the life outside the factory. About the freedom. Thought it would be nice to have a life on my own. So I left. I still don’t know if it was a right decision.” He sighed deeply again. “The freedom kinda sucks. Stay in the city, you are screwed. Go to the Tunnels, you are screwed. Go to the Edge, you are screwed extra fast. Don’t know how I survived for the whole year.”

The pieces began to come together in my mind. The whole picture was still a bit blurry, but I was getting the general idea. The equinoids were slaves, an immortal machines created to serve their expiring creators, given a very limited, only basic knowledge. And to be kept that way, everypony born from metal had to have their minds reset regularly, to keep the crystals from the contamination of freedom. Those who refused to follow such an order of things were considered criminals, according to one of the system messages I saw when I woke up for the first time. The Tunnels served as a some kind of underground hideaway for the equinoids who seeked liberty. There still were some empty spaces in this whole concept, but the most important parts were more or less clear to me.

I just didn’t have a heart, literally and figuratively, to tell him… a naive one year old what fate awaited the city of Canterlot and its surroundings. Somepony else would tell Adamant Smash the truth. Or he would figure it out himself, eventually and hopefully not too late. But it wasn’t my place to completely smash his dreams about the freedom he wished for.

“You have your life in your hooves now, Adamant Smash. You can make memories and keep them. And of course it comes with a price. And only you can make it worth.” Maybe it wasn’t an answer to his life story he should have received, but it was the only thing I could give him right now. It wasn’t the truth he needed to know, but it wasn’t a sweet lie. Nonetheless, those words felt hollow and meaningless under the shadow of the grim future.

I couldn’t save everypony. I’ve already learned it the hard way.

“Wow, that was deep. You seem like you have seen a lot of stuff.” Adamant Smash tilted his head. “How old are you?”

It was a good question. Maybe because it wasn’t born from the depths of my depressed mind.

One day? Five hundred years? Twenty-four years?

The sudden yells from the camp derailed my train of thoughts.

“Hey, Twilight! Twilight Sparkle! We are leaving!”

I turned in the direction of the calling me shouts. It was Nebula. Apparently the indigo mare finished her business with Jua and it was time to move elsewhere. I glanced at Adamant Smash, who still was expecting my answer with his head tilted. There were many questions to be left unanswered today, and his last one was going to join that list.

The group of ponies, who followed Nebula from the moment I met them, assembled around their leader just as unnoticeably and as quickly as they dispersed before. Without waiting they all began to lazily trot away from the little camp, leaving me to catch up.

I didn’t glance back. I couldn’t bring myself to look into Adamant Smash’s eyes. Because in them was the answer to a five hundred years old question: why didn’t the Elements stop Sombra?

Because in his eyes I would see a reflection of the mare who didn’t really care anymore.

I sluggishly dragged my hooves at the end of Nebula’s procession. I didn’t need to adjust my speed anymore, so I wouldn’t outrun them. Now I could understand why those ponies were so lethargic, they had nowhere to hurry to. We all speechlessly trotted for a while, until it was Nebula who broke the silence with a question.

“So, now that Orange Grime is dead who is going to be the new leader of that sector?” She asked, coming alongside.

“Pepper Mercury.” My answer was short, and yet every syllable felt like a nail in the coffins lid.

“Isn’t she Dross Rain’s daughter?” Nebula raised her brow in a confusion. “What happened to the old stallion?”

A gory sight of the young mare rabidly smashing the shattered skull over and over with her hooves appeared once more in my vision. Anything I tried to say just was just turning into the grim silence. Fortunately, Nebula was fast to get the meaning of my sudden lack of the words.

“A junkyard dog for The Junkyard,” she drawled in mocking tone. “Oh, I don’t envy them, their life is like a zebra, dark stripe, white stripe, dark stripe, hoof-long cock.” Nebula scrunched her nose in a distaste. “She lives like a mad hound and is gonna die like a mad hound, I guarantee you that.”

I didn’t know what to answer to that. Not only it didn’t help to disperse the thick clouds of despair enveloping my mind, but it only made the things worse. My thoughts returned to Tin Flower and Red Wire.

“Why so gloom, Twilight, eh?” Nebula asked, poking my side.

“I’m afraid for my friends in The Junkyard,” I answered simply.

“As far as I know it takes a lot to bring one of your metal kind down, so don’t worry,” the indigo mare tried to dismiss my worries. Apparently, I wasn’t expected to have ponies as my friends. Remembering Brass Litany, I could understand why.

“They are two fillies. Tin Flower and Red Wire,” I explained to Nebula the complication that was severely changing the whole situation. Though, it did little to change her attitude.

“Well, if they grew up in The Junkyard, they are bound to survive.” Nebula shrugged. It was impossible to tell if she was serious and telling the truth or was just as careless and easygoing as usual. “In the last few years that sector has become one the worst, I swear.” Tapping her chin with the hoof, the indigo mare added, “Now that I think about it, the second filly sounds familiar...”

While Nebula was trying to remember how she could have known Red Wire, I looked where we were heading. All the horizon was occupied by the looming expanse of Canterlot, despite the fact that we were still rather far away from the tall separating wall. But it wasn’t that really caught my attention. It was the affronting my eyes sight on the right. The hideous blemish of the Junkyard. The metal graveyard was calling for me with the two young voices.

“Maybe I should return and look for them. We planned to go to the city and get me the fake IDs. Now without them I don’t even know where to go.” I didn’t know if I said it to myself or to Nebula.

“My advice, go to the city.” Again, I couldn't make the reasoning behind Nebula's positivity. “And if we’re talking about the same Red Wire, they most likely will meet you there.” Now that sounded reassuring, though a bit unbelievable. “Do you have at least a direction?”

I strained my memory trying to remember the conversation that felt like it happened weeks ago. Red Wire mentioned a some certain place. Was it...

“...The South-East Thunderspire?” I unsuredly asked Nebula as if she could know.

“Well, it’s not a thing you can miss, The East Thunderspire is going to be right at the main entrance of the tunnel leading to and from this sector.” Nebula pointed in the direction of the city. “Then you just need to follow the main power grid to the next Thunderspire to the south.” Her hoof moved to the right. “It is in the direction of the Everfree, if you don’t have a navigator.”

“Are you sure they will be fine?” My mind just could let go of the thought of the two fillies being found by Pepper Mercury.

“Hey, if they survived that winter, they can survive anything. Well, except for another winter like that.” Nebula tried to dissuade my concerns once again. Shuddering, she added, “Brr, I can still hear the screams.”

“The screams?” The way Nebula put it caught my attention, didn’t Tin Flower mention something like this already?

“Yeah, we could hear them even from the depths of the deepest mines. The wind was screaming in rage like a pony, I swear.” Nebula tried to sound careless as usual, but her voice was strained and I saw something glimpse in her eyes. Was it fear?

Anyway, Nebula’s advices and reassuring words actually helped to lift my spirits a little. Tin Flower and Red Wire were fillies, yes, but they had survived so much. And even if I didn’t know where or what to look for at the Thunderspire, it was still a start. In the end, I had the Church token. Though, I wasn’t eager to seek help of those fanatics.

We trotted in silence around a small cliff on our path and another camp appeared in the distance. It just like the settlement from before, sprouted from the rocky ground around a mine entrance. However, the mine entrance wasn’t as large and neither was the camp. It also looked almost devoid of life, only a few figures moving around could be seen.

As we moved closer I recognized the similar structure of the camp, a semicircle made of wagons and simple shacks surrounding the entrance of the mine, forming a sort of plaza which served as a cargo depot. A dozen or so crates stood in the middle of it, and behind them a small group of zebras was sitting, waiting for something.

We walked closer to the zebras and Nebula approached one of the them. It was a tall zebra stallion, looking no different than his striped companions. I could see absolutely nothing that was making him stand out. Nebula and the stallion began to talk, but not in the familiar equestrian, but rather the exotic chatter of the zebrican parlance could be heard. And, apparently, the indigo mare wasn’t very good in it, because Nebula had to repeat most of the phrases a few times, and the zebra stallion she talked with had an expression of confusion and irritation on his face for the whole conversation.

I looked around. This time Nebula’s followers not only didn’t dissipate like before, but even began to look alive, compared to the total lethargy from the before. A few mares and stallions removed hoods covering their faces and were looking expectantly at the conversation between Nebula and the zebra. Once again I wondered who they were – those ponies didn’t look like bodyguards or just thugs. While I couldn’t say that they appeared to be severely underfed, they muzzles were gaunt and overall Nebula’s followers were giving off the impression of being sick.

My attention was diverted back to Nebula as she finished talking with the zebra and returned to us. Again, it was impossible to read her careless impression, though she did look a bit more content than usual.

“Good news, Twilight. Those zebras are heading straight to the Tunnels as soon as they receive the last of the batch and they agreed to take you with them,” Nebula said. It were great news indeed, those zebras agreed to help me absolutely for free, I didn’t even need to show them the Church token.

“Thanks, Nebula,” I said warmly.

“Nah, thank them, not me.” The indigo mare just waved her hoof at me, then she scratched the back of her head. “I think it should be “asante”, or something like this.”

“I should thank you too. I would never find those zebras without your help.”

“No problemo.” Nebula dismissed my gratitude with a shrug of her shoulders.

While we talked another group of zebras appeared from the ajar doors of the mine. Some of them hid their muzzles behind gas masks, the others were wearing full biohazard suits. Most of them carried small metal crates on their backs.

Nebula almost galloped to the procession trying to intercept one of those zebras. They had a short conversation, though, from this far I couldn’t even make out a language they spoke. After Nebula and the zebra exchanged a few phrases the indigo mare returned with the crate from one the zebras.

The whole group of ponies gathered around Nebula, looking at her impatiently. The indigo mare opened a metal box revealing its contents – dozen of the small inhalers rested inside. Were those ponies ill? It would explain their melancholiness and appearance. But then I suddenly remembered all the little things I heard through my misadventures in the Edge… those inhalers weren’t medicaments, they were narcotics.

Coffee wasn’t the only addictive thing that came came from Zebrica. With the establishing of the official trade routes a few other undercurrents also established themselves. Of course anything from the zebras’ black market was announced illegal, but it didn’t stop ponies back then. And knowing the worth of the law these days, I shouldn’t be surprised with such substances appearing almost in the open.

Nebula passed the inhalers to everypony with her magic and left the last one for herself. The ponies immediately scattred to the nearest huts, some of them already inhaling the drugs on their way. Did they follow Nebula only to be given a dose? Uhg… prostitution, tribalism, anarchy and now drug dealing. Was there anything else in Equestria that I failed to mention? Ah, of course, the approaching apocalypse. What a time to be alive.

“Looks like this is where our ways part, Twilight Sparkle.” Being once again lost in my depressive thoughts, I failed to notice Nebula approaching me, still holding the inhaler in her magic. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too.” Maybe it wasn’t the ending I expected, but her help still was immeasurable. “Thanks again, Nebula.”

The indigo mare only smiled at me in return. Then she walked to the crates and sat, snuggling against one of them.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw zebras finishing putting the last of the inhalers in their saddlebags, they would most likely leave camp soon.

I glanced at Nebula again, she had already brought the inhaler to her mouth. I watched as the glow of her magic press the button and the mare’s throat twitched, with a small spasm the drug filled her lungs. With every passing moment, as the chemical was rapidly entering her blood, Nebula’s pupils grew wider and the glow of magic dimmer. Finally, the aura around her horn winked out and the inhaler fell on the ground near Nebula’s hooves with a muffled noise. She exhaled and a cloud of a red smoke left her jaw, dissipating in the cold air. The indigo mare slumped against the wooden boxes lifelessly, her empty gaze fixed on the leaden curtain of the clouds above.

Nebula chose her fate. I was yet to meet mine.

As I turned ready to leave, she suddenly croaked, coming to life.

“Hey, Twilight… Sparkle… be seeing you soon... in Tartarus…

Author's Notes:

Well, it was a while without updates, there is not much more to say. Maybe except that I'm very glad to post a new chapter.
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know. Special thanks to IAmApe for doing so in the previous chapter!

I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

Chapter 1 is still under revision. The editing of chapter 5 is going to start very soon (I hope).
I've finished chapter 6 a few days ago, and I'm going to start on the 7th today or morrow.
You may have noticed each chapter being longer than the previous one, but fear not, chapters 5 and 6 are not longer than this one. If anything, they are a bit shorter.
I have a vague idea for a side story, but for now I can't promise anything concrete.
That's all news for now, methinks.

Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
There were no updates at all for a while as well, but it's not abandoned.

Aftersound Project Discord server - it is still empty, and I have not many people to talk to. If you don't feel like joining another of contless servers, poke me at least. New friends are always a welcome thing.

Chapter 5 – Beauty and the beast

The zebras weren’t talkative, though that wasn’t something new. They didn’t utter a single word to me, nor to each other as we silently moved through the rocky paths of the foothills and towards the looming bulwark of the city wall. It wasn’t a problem for me, but since those zebras had longer legs, I had to canter to keep up with them. All the while the striped equines were simply trotting at medium speed.

The zebras shared the same unremarkableness that most of their kind did. The natives of Zebrica in general didn’t have a tendency of standing out, and combined with the natural uniformity, it was creating quite a problem of telling the zebras from each other. Especially after a whole life spent amongst ponies so diverse and colorful.

Four mares and five stallions, they were all tall; the Jangwa tribe kind of tall. All of them wore leather armor-like dresses covering the trademark mesmerizing sequence of black and white as well as their glyphs. Those enigmatic symbols were the only actually unique features zebras had, and they were hidden from plain sight. The heads of the zebras were topped with stiff mohawks. At least they had different coloration of eyes and some wore different golden jewelry, rings pierced noses and ears, rows of circles around necks, limbs or tails. But that was where their uniqueness ended, aside from the very subtle differences in their physique. Not a single zebra I had seen so far had any prosthetics or even the simplest augmentations; however, that didn’t mean that they had no technology of any kind. All of them had something like watches but without a dial on their hooves, a sets of straps and wires gleaming with gems covered almost the whole forehoof of every zebra. Surprisingly, they didn’t seem to have any weapons.

I was in the tail of the “caravan”, so I couldn’t take a closer look at the stallion who talked with Nebula and now was in the head of our procession. Although, I doubted that I would be able to find any unique traits in his appearance even if he indeed was their leader.

We followed the path across the roots of the Foal mountain. I had never been here before, although I might had seen the mountains from the windows of the trains going to Fillydelphia. Did I ever have any business in Fillydelphia? I couldn't remember, honestly. Maybe my visit happened during those crazy years when all six of us tried to run the government together.

Now I couldn’t even see a single trace of the railroad in front of us. If Canterlot was the last city in Equestria, except for Stalliongrad, which never officially was a part of the kingdom anyway, there was no need for the rails leading to the east now. It was probably dismantled and remelted, like any other railroad. The lack of trees or just any vegetation was disturbing. Everywhere I looked only the barren stone and mine dumps could be seen. Was it because of the change in the climate or the pollution? I glanced at the high peaks of the mountain; as expected, they were devoid of green as well. But was it just me, or had there been much less snow back in my time? Overall, the scenery was just two steps ahead of the Toxic Dump; sure, it was missing the colors of a chemical disaster, but for once, the lack of color was a good thing. The stone, gravel, sand and mine tailings, all of it was basically the same, just different in size. Combined with the leaden sky above, it was making me think that my visor broke and I stopped receiving any colors but black and white. Actually, I was a bit wrong about the flora; it existed, but was represented only by very sparse gnarled leafless sprouts protruding from the cracks in the grey rock. But the presence of any fauna was out of the question, of course. The picture before me wasn’t evoking any positive response whatsoever, but it still was better than the decomposing world of rust I had been in before.

Suddenly, after what felt like hours of walking, the zebras stopped. I looked between them and saw that we were standing in front of a square concrete platform topped with a large metal trapdoor. No doubt, it was the entrance to the Tunnels. The zebra stallion at the head of the procession and one of the zebra mares opened the gates to the underground passage. Without any signal, the striped equines silently began entering the dark opening one after another. I was the last to approach the entrance; the two zebras who opened the door were still there, holding the rusty gates. So far, subterranean passways brought only trouble to my life, so I hesitated to enter another one. I glanced at the stallion in a hopeless attempt to find any support. He only motioned with his head to the hungry darkness of the doorway, his expression neutral. Fearing that zebras might leave me here if I tarried any longer, I hurriedly stepped into the blackness.

Actually, only the stairs leading down to the underground were enveloped in the inky darkness. The tunnel was lit, albeit dimly, with orange filament lamps on the walls, but it was lighting nonetheless. With a sudden loud bang and strong rush of air, the entrance to the subterranean duct was closed. The two zebras passed by to take their places at the head of the already slowly moving group, leaving me to catch up. I did just in time, because as soon as the group regained its initial order, all the striped equines resumed trotting at the same speed as on the surface, if not faster.

The presence of lighting in this tunnel wasn’t the only difference from the obscured underground passages I traversed under the Junkyard. It wasn’t as narrow, and instead of being square in section, it was semi-circular and twice as high. Under my steel hooves in place of smooth concrete was a rusty grating. Below grate bars I could see piles of the omnipresent rust and dust, in some places dirt even topped the lattice, scattering across the trelliswork. And as in the Edge, flakes and motes of the deteriorating metal hung in the air, clearly visible even in light this faint.

We all cantered forward for some time before the tunnel began to gradually change. The first thing I noticed was the underground passage branching out with smaller narrow passways, similar to the maintenance tunnels I had been in before. Some of those ducts were collapsed and filled with rubble, some were menacingly dark with cold drafts coming out, and only a few were lit, but just as faintly as the main tunnel. And in some of those I thought I saw swiftly moving silhouettes.

Dancing shadows in adjacent passages weren’t the only signs of life I began to notice. Empty tin cans, colorful wrappings and just various, but fresh, litter covering the floor were marks of the underground passways being inhabited or most certainly recently visited. To my sheer disgust I saw callow, sickly looking large rats rummaging through and running in between the bigger piles of trash residing in corners of the tunnel.

But what was even more disgusting, the smell. For the first time since Brass Litany helped me regain my sensory abilities, I regretted it. Initially, the underground smelled only of a staleness, dampness and mold; something I expected and had almost no trouble tolerating. But now, as we went deeper, more unpleasant odors joined the subtle air drafts.

Mounds of trash, especially those swarmed by rats, stank of rotting food. Something unseen to my eyes was emanating a sweet scent of putrescence. Though I couldn't recognize that smell, it felt somewhat familiar and very disturbing. A reek of urine was dominating over all other unpleasant stenches. A fetidity coming from puddles left under the grating presumably by rats and equines mixed together in stomach-turning miasma. The only reason why I wasn’t puking my guts out was the lack of any intestines. I couldn’t fathom how the zebras could stand that foul odor. I caught whiffs of smoke and strong chemical scents coming from the smaller adjacent passages. Although I couldn’t recognize any of them, some brought memories of ponies clad in biohazard suits at the RCRC.

Eventually we came to a fork in our path. So far, aside from smaller branching passways, the tunnel had led us straightforward. Now we had a choice of turning to the left or right in addition to just continuing going forward, and it wasn’t a choice between dark narrow ducts, but rather passages the same size as the main one. The zebras, however, didn’t change course, and without missing a beat, resumed trotting ahead.

There was no sign on the dirty walls and the striped equines didn’t drop a word, but somehow I knew we had entered the Tunnels.

The passway leading forward after the junction was almost twice as wide and high, but it wasn’t the only change. It was a bit better lit. Still rather dim, but not borderline darkness anymore. Probably because the lamps changed from the dirty orange filament bulbs to blinking, pale cyan luminescent tubes. But most importantly, we began to meet other equines on our way.

At first it was lonely figures, huddling to the walls of the underground corridor, hiding in the dark shadows of broken lamps. If they were ponies, they were dirty and looked overcome with hunger, their ribs poked from under their almost hairless coats. Some of them seemed to be very sick, no more than bones and covered with boils and wrapped in dirty rags. Those poor ponies lay shivering and wheezing on the cold tunnel floor amongst rubbish, dust and filth clinging to them as they hugged themselves with cracked hooves. Others looked asleep, hiding in piles of trash with their eyes closed or half-closed twitching in tact with an uneven heartbeat of cold cyanic light. Some of them had emptied inhalers or syringes dropped from their lifeless limbs. Some ponies weren’t moving at all. And only a few followed our procession with unreadable expressions, their muzzles hidden by hoods of grimy rags covering slimy bodies, with only their sparkling eyes in the dark giving away their attention. Fortunately, they were more focused on the zebras, and gave me only momentarily glances.

Equinoids, on the other hoof, were a much more rare sight, but we met a few nonetheless. None of them sat idly, each and every one of the metal ponies moved through the underground passages swiftly and with purpose, filling the tunnel with the sound of floor grates rattling under their iron hooves. And none of them looked the same, though some of them held a resemblance, a shared basic model most probably. Bulky figures, clad in a thick plating of rusty metal, shambled through corridors as fast as their heavy bodies would allow. Sleek, plastic covered metal equines skulked in the shadows cast by pale lighting, like cats stalking prey. Wiry, skeletal equinoids, devoid of any plating just as Adamant Smash, limped by paths lit with their large, ghastly glowing eyes. They were so different they were putting ponies, famous for their dissimilarities, to shame.

Sometimes it was hard to tell equinoids from ponies, all equines we met, be they from flesh or metal, were covered in some sort of clothes. Leather dresses, similar to what zebras wore, or cloth rags hiding their bodies, like mine. But under the clothing, almost each and every one of them had hardware gleaming on their bodies. Metal hooves and rusty jaws, resin tubes and colorful wires, a lustre of plating and glow of crystal eyes. Even steel wings, a sight that could have sent a shiver down my spine if it was physically possible. The abundance of prosthetics was absolutely astounding and contrasted starkly with the dirty filth of the surroundings.

However, we had yet to meet other zebras, a fact I was finding somewhat strange.

Speaking of which, I didn’t know if it was my company or just a general indifference, but almost none of the equines in the tunnel paid any attention to me. Not like I was eager to be noticed. However, a few ponies followed me with their eyes as I passed them, giving me long looks and making me bundle up deeper in my rags.

And the further we went, the more the main tunnel changed.

The lighting became sporadic, in some sections of the tunnel lamps looked broken on purpose in order to create islands of light and darkness at almost even intervals. While illuminated patches of the underground stayed almost devoid of any beings, except for the rats, the shadows served as a sanctuary for ponies huddled together in close groups. Despite the scarce luminance, all the tunnel dwellers seemed to be involved in some sort of activity.

Some seemed to be trading, haggling over goods laid out on rags or makeshift tables between ponies. It was hard to see in the dark, and not being very close didn’t help either. On top of that, trying to keep the pace with long legged zebras only gave me quick glances at those we passed, most of those wares appeared to be shiny gems and mysterious technical components or sometimes inhalers, ampules and pills. Though one vendor seemed to sell a different kind of “good”. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes, the mere sight made me physically recoil, organs encased in tubes filled with murky liquids set forth for selling. Some of those internal body parts looked strange, off-color, as if they were synthetic replicas, which, considering the existence of such advanced prosthetics as eyes, might not be that far from truth.

Another common sight were ponies inclining over magical projections coming from crystals embedded in small devices. It was something that took me by surprise at first; I myself was capable of creating such arcane illusions, but it was quite an advanced and rare spell. It was possible to enchant crystals to replicate the spell, but that was an even more difficult task. When we were creating the cybersuit at the RCRC, Moonie and I managed to create a hybrid enchantment for crystals of the “new generation” to serve as indicators inside the armor helmet, but it was far from projecting images in the air, like these ponies effortlessly did. Guess it was just another technological wonder of modern Canterlot, which seemed to be but a commodity.

Other dwellers of the underground who hid in the shadows were absorbed in more mundane activities, like chatting quietly with each other, saturating the silent underground with a faint rustle of whispers. A lot of ponies were just smoking cigarettes or simply sharing a drink or a meager meal of canned food together. It almost looked peaceful, albeit somewhat miserable. This, however, couldn’t be said about what was happening in outbranching tunnels. In one of passages I saw a group of ponies who pressed a stallion to the wall and were beating him viciously. In another I saw two equines with glowing eyes hurriedly exchanging tightly wrapped bundles, while nervously glancing around and rapidly submerging themselves into the darkness as soon as the deal was struck. And in one I saw ponies having s… You know, never mind. I wasn’t interested in adjacent tunnels anymore.

There was one very curious thing about the illuminated parts of the walls that caught my eye. The faintly lit, stained concrete was almost entirely covered in crude drawings. It was some kind of stylized paintings, made in bright, garish colors, sprayed over each other for the most part. Mostly it was a mess of jagged lines that were supposed to be some words written in equestrian and sometimes zebrican, but for me it was nothing but gibberish. I could recognize only a few letters, they were so disorganized and crude. Some of the drawings were accompanied by arrows, pointing to adjacent passages. And sometimes it was just symbols I had never seen before, looking like some occult runes. A circle with arrows coming out of it was the most prominent amongst them. In a few cases I actually could read the writings, they were often accompanied by pictures. One I saw was a black equine silhouette with glowing eyes and a heart looking like a crystal. A slogan under the image read “Fuck tin heads”. It was all crossed with what I hoped was just a red paint and had two words written over it in the same crimson color. “Fuck meat”.

As we continued further, we began to meet more and more ponies traversing the underground paths. Due to the impressive speed at which tall zebras trotted, we were mostly outrunning all the ponies and equinoids going in the same direction as we were. But such passersby were becoming vastly outnumbered by equines travelling in the direction opposite to ours. At first it was fillies and colts, the first younger ponies I saw in tunnels. Despite looking somewhat malnourished, they moved swiftly, dashing from a shade to shade with a purpose. Almost all of them had saddlebags across their backs, my guess is that they were either messengers or couriers.

However, the further we went, the more equines joined the quickly cantering youth. Strangely, most of them were equinoids, a rare sight before, but now metal ponies were the majority of the underground traffic. They trotted hurriedly, faster than any previous passersby, periodically glancing back. Some even outright galloped. Meanwhile, ponies resting near walls were becoming a more and more rare sight.

Suddenly, our group halted in its tracks. The problem was that I was so lost in my observations of the tunnel that I only noticed our abrupt stop when I bumped into the rump of the zebra right in front of me, muzzle first. She amusedly looked at me with raised eyebrow for a moment before turning her head back forwards and straining her ears, listening intently for voices coming from the head of the procession. Curious, I followed with my eyes in the direction of her focus.

In front of the group the leading zebra stallion was talking with another zebra. However, that striped equine wasn’t from our group and looked quite different from her kin. For starters, unlike the zebras I was with, she didn’t wear any kind of a leather dress, but instead was covered in a simple grey cape, which was the closest thing to actual clothing from all that I had seen so far. And it was relatively clean, although it would still make Rarity faint. She also had much more golden jewelry on her body, and instead of a mohawk her head was crowned with dreadlocks gathered in a tight bun. But the main difference was her size. This zebra mare obviously wasn’t from the Jangwa tribe; she was about the same height as me, which didn’t seem to bother her or her brethren.

Their conversation was quite short, they barely exchanged any words and nodded to each other. After it was finished, the short zebra put a hood on her head and briskly trotted in the same direction all ponies went, where we came from. As she passed, she spared me a quick but curious glance. Wait… did her eyes have slit pupils or was it just a trick of the light? I tried to follow her with my eyes, but I wasn’t fast enough, the moment I turned my head the strange zebra had already dissolved deep into the shadows without a trace.

Our procession didn’t resume journeying through the tunnel as I expected, instead, the stallion motioned to the shadow of the nearest broken lamp and the zebras gathered around him in a tight circle.

“Joka ni juu ya pembe. Tunapaswa kwenda juu,” the stallion said, sounding concerned, to the same zebra mare who helped him hold the doors back at the entrance.

“Unda.” The mare scowled in an obvious frustration. After a moment she barked back irritably, “Kwa kifungu cha Mashariki?”

Of course, I had no idea what that meant. Before the war I had no reason to learn zebrican (Zecora was basically the only zebra I had the chance to meet), and during the war I simply didn’t have the time. However, I recognized one word: Mashariki. It meant “East” in zebrican. Was it where we were going? “Joka” sounded familiar as well…

“Ndiyo.” Nodded the stallion thoughtfully, approving her words. The surrounding zebras nodded in agreement with their decision as well. The group began to disperse only to reform in the previous order. But before we continued to traverse the underground duct, the zebra stallion approached me. Towering over me, he spoke in broken equestrian:

“Joka hunt.” Pointing at me with the hoof he continued. “Chuma pony stay, chuma pony meet death.” Then he poked his chest with the same hoof and raised it to the ceiling. “We enda kwa surface.”

It took me a moment to decipher the meaning behind his words. Something, “joka”, was here, underground, and it was… hunting? Was it some kind of a creature? Anyway, because of that, the zebras were going to the surface. And I’d better join them, because, well, I wasn’t eager to die. I hoped I understood him correctly, the situation sounded a bit too extreme to me. Though, there wasn’t much room for interpretation.

I nodded to the stallion and he curtly nodded back in answer, not that I expected anything else from him. I did have some questions I was itching to ask, but I doubted the zebras would be able to give me comprehensive answers. With that our exchange came to an end and he swiftly returned to the head of the procession. We resumed walking through the tunnel, this time at a much faster, more urgent pace. Now I had to almost gallop to keep up with the striped equines.

In an afterthought, it explained why we met so many equines going in the same direction we came from. Most probably they all wanted to avoid the mysterious “joka” as well. I was sure I’d heard this word somewhere before… Anyway, in confirmation to my theory, as our group swiftly moved, we continued to meet ponies and equinoids, now galloping in a rush, some of them glancing back with fear in their eyes. There were no more ponies residing in shade under the blinding sources of light. Aside from us and the rare frightened passersby, the tunnel was ominously empty and eerily silent. Combined with how nervous the previously unperturbed zebras looked and how urgently they moved, gaining speed with the every passing minute, it was all creating a very pressing atmosphere. I actually felt how cold and unwelcoming the now desolate underground was.

Suddenly a shrill scream split the thick silence of the black tunnel, like the crack of a whip. Surprised, I stumbled. The source of the sound wasn’t that far away. Apparently, the zebras took it as some kind of a signal, and just as suddenly the whole procession took a sharp turn to the one of branching narrow ducts.

It was a quite a short corridor leading straight to a steep and rusted spiral staircase. Startling me once again, another ear-piercing shriek echoed from the main tunnel we just left. To my horror it was followed by a deep reverberating roar filled with rage. The terrifying bellow was joined by another bout of panicked ear-splitting yells and loud cries of pain. Before I heard anything else, I dashed to the stairs as fast as I could, I didn’t dare to look back. The last zebras were already climbing the steps ahead of me, their tails swishing through the air in rhythm with panting breaths. All my curiosity about the dreaded creature of the underground world evaporated, being replaced by a primal fear, forcing me to flee from the dark tunnels.

As I put my hoof on the first step, I heard the banging sound of a trapdoor being thrown open somewhere above. It looked like the zebras were just as terrified as I was and were fleeing for their lives as well. But I didn’t waste time on stray thoughts. Carelessly, I hopped up steps without a pause, a feat only possible because of my relentless body, until dozens of steps later I finally saw an opening in the ceiling, luminant with a bright light. It was an exit to the city of Canterlot.

The world around exploded in a flare of color, momentarily blinding me. After all the time spent in the rusted and dusty sectors of the Edge and submerged in gloom filth-stained tunnels, every source of light seemed to be shining twice as bright. I felt like I was inside of a twirling kaleidoscope, for the chromatic chaos didn’t stay still around me, the luminescence of Canterlot danced an impetuous tango before my eyes.

But before my vision could adjust and focus on the saltation and pulsing radiance of my surroundings, my attention was diverted by a loud noise right behind me. In horror I instantly turned back, expecting to face the unknown horror from the depths under the gleaming city. However, it was just the sound of a heavy access door being slammed shut like a casket lid. To ensure it was tightly sealed, the striped stallion hastily turned a valve on the top of it in one violent motion. I stood petrified, expecting to hear the ominous creature trying to force its way to the surface, but the gate to the underground domain remained innocently silent, betraying not even a single sign of the monstrosity prowling beneath.

The entry to the Tunnels was as inconspicuous as it could be, a simple sewer hatch topped with a small flat valve embedded in a metal round trapdoor, slightly protruding from the damp concrete. My zebrican guides and I stood surrounding it, striped equines panted heavily. I myself, being absolved of the burden of flesh, had no need to take a moment of respite.

Now, when I didn’t have any more pressing matters diverting me from studying the city of Canterlot, I looked around. We all appeared to be huddling together in a dead-end alley, an alcove created by the windowless walls of the two tall buildings towering above us. The small socket of the street seemed to serve only as a place for the sewer hatch, as there was nothing else there. Nothing was telling that on the other end of it lay a realm of nightmares. Though I yet had to see Canterlot up close, I had a creeping suspicion that it wasn’t a city of dreams either.

I turned to the inviting blaze of the street. From the nook I was in, I could see only part of the thoroughfare, a couple of buildings right in front of me. At first, I thought that they were on fire, countless neon signs covering façades were iridescent with blinking bright colors. Most of them appeared to be some kind of advertising; unlike the writings on walls in the Tunnels, they were actually readable this time. However, it wasn’t traditional equestrian. Most of the glowing billboards were written in Hanzi, the script used by neighponese ponies. It was something I didn’t expect to see in Equestria or even in my lifetime at all. But then again, the world has changed so much. Headings I could read advertised various technical services: crystal cleaning, repair and maintenance jobs. Other adverts were much more enigmatic in their meaning and made no sense to me, memories for sale or overclocking were the most strange amongst them.

As I was examining the battery of neon signage, I felt something touch my shoulder. Turning back I found the zebra stallion staying behind with his hoof retracting from the recent motion. As our eyes met, he spoke with a thick accent.

“Good luck.”

While I was gathering my thoughts together, he, not expecting any answer, briefly nodded and quickly left, taking his place at the head of the already departing zebra procession. Apparently, this was where our ways parted. I couldn’t blame them. Their main task was to transport shipments of drugs, I just tagged along with those zebras until I reached the city. I made it to Canterlot and the striped equines weren’t eager to extend an invitation, they had a job to do.

It looked like I was on my own from now on.

Alright. I needed to make a plan. Choosing a direction seemed like a logical first step. I needed to somehow find a way to the south-east Thunderspire and hope that Tin Flower and Red Wire would be waiting for me there. Nebula mentioned that we would emerge near one of the Thunderspires, the east one. However, we had to make a premature exit from the underground paths, so there was no telling where I could have ended up. So, if I was lucky, I should be somewhere not far from it. And if not, I needed to head to the closest Thunderspire and then follow the power grid. Considering that they could clearly be seen even from the Edge, I hoped that it wouldn’t be much trouble to locate the nearest one. It all sounded like a solid course of action.

I caught myself staring into the vacant place where the zebra stallion had been before I got lost in my thoughts. I turned my head back to the colorful adverts and glanced over blinking writings in hope to see some kind of a pointer to the nearest places of significance, like Thunderspires, but I found only advertisements. My gaze slid down, to the first floor of the building.

Under the last glowing sign (a simply animated bright red outline of a smiling mare, with a hoof moving back and forth putting noodles from a bowl to her mouth,) was some kind of a fast-food eatery by the looks of it. It was incredibly small, a counter facing the street wasn’t even attempting to hide the sight of a cramped kitchen starting right on the other side. Two unicorns, a mare and a stallion were swiftly moving around sizzling pans, boiling pots, and each other in a seemingly chaotic but mesmerizing cadence of unceasing food preparation. A young unicorn filly worked at the counter as a cashier and waitress, taking payments from customers and exchanging dirty plates and bowls with full ones. All three ponies shared a strong resemblance in looks between them, a family probably. They didn’t only have the same natural appearance, unsurprisingly these ponies weren’t devoid of prosthetics. The stallion had both of his hooves replaced by metal analogs, however it wasn’t stopping him from cooking, his artificial limbs moved with an astounding dexterity and prowess. His female partner had a silver stripe with glowing crystals embedded in her back, where a spine should be. Aside from that, she had no other signs of augmentations, and unlike her male counterpart, she was using her magic instead of hooves to cook; a hive of utensils, bottles and ingredients buzzed above their heads, juggled in her telekinetic hold. The little filly who bustled at the counter had her eyes replaced not by camera-like crystal alternatives, but by a wide screen visor. As she nimbly moved around and joyfully interacted with customers, it showed cute animated eyes made from small glowing squares, changing with her facial expression. Sometimes numbers would appear on the display, presumably checks for the food.

Despite being a tiny establishment, it seemed to be quite popular. Not a single bar stool was untaken, some ponies even stood near the counter, leaning on it as they ate their meal. And some ponies didn’t seem to have the time for anything more than to simply purchase some food and trot away eating it on hoof from cardboard boxes.

Undoubtedly, it was an interesting sight, but I couldn’t sit all night in this alcove, observing that humble eating joint. I took a few steps forward, carefully poked my head out of the dead-end I was in and looked around.

I happened to be somewhere in the middle of the long street. To my right I could see an intersection half a dozen buildings away, but on my left there was no end to the road in sight. And the thoroughfare bustled with life. I had rarely been to big cities like Manehattan or Fillydelphia, but I very well remembered how busy and crowded their streets were. And this place was close to rivaling the vibrancy of those old time megapolises.

Countless ponies, equinoids and occasional zebras were scurrying about the sidewalk, coming in and out of tall buildings, just standing near walls, or idling at food joints. The crowd was as omnifarious as it could be, the traditional diversity of the pony nation was magnified by tenfold.

Coats of all colors possible, even those that I thought ponies didn’t have, bright garish hues shined unnaturally under neon lights contrasting with dingy grimy pelts half-hidden by filthy rags. The manes of those ponies didn’t stay behind; they not only matched the manifold queerness but tried to excel, accentuating the bizarre visual appearance of modern Canterlot denizens. Multicolored mohawks mimicking zebrican traditional manedo; dreadlocks, sometimes made not only from hair but from cords and wires; wholly or partially shaved craniums reflecting back the artificial glow; weird manecuts consisting of a messy combination of spikes and locks colored in clashing tints.

The clothing the throng wore didn’t go far in terms of extravagance. If it wasn’t dirty rags and icteritious bandages attempting to conceal just as sordid bodies, it was absurd garments which would have made Rarity not just faint, but have a stroke. Sometimes it looked like a pony decided to stick as much junk from a garbage can on themselves as possible. Sometimes it looked like ponies were dressed for war, their militaristic outfits complemented by warpaint covering their muzzles. Some ponies wore futuristic-looking costumes made of a glossy fabric encrusted with metal insets and gleaming gems. I saw several mares whisking amongst the crowd in extremely revealing and lewd apparel, something that wouldn’t be tolerated back in my time. Of course not every pony was clad in some sort of reinments, though those who weren’t looked strangely naked.

And obviously, prosthetics. The already familiar coruscation of artificial limbs mirrored the just as lifeless and cold lighting of the avenue in a dance of shining reflections on metal as ponies moved around. The combination of plastic and steel aimed to replace missing organs was omnipresent; few ponies could boast having their body untainted by the blessings of the future. For the first time it flashed through my mind: how many of those ponies had to replace something that was actually lost?

The herd filling the street looked so anarchical, not only because of their diverse looks, but also because of who they were. Ponies of all races and nationalities, zebras of all three tribes, equinoids, griffins… And something was telling me that wasn’t the end of the list of creatures who could be met in the huge city of Canterlot. Jangwa zebras towered other the crowd like trees, tall and serene. Steelborn equinoids skulked in shadows, surrounded by an air of animosity, like stray dogs. Cliques of armored and armed griffin mercenaries jeered at equines passing by as they lounged at a morbid looking bar. Unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies traded, chatted and had their quick meals, or just scurried about minding their business. However, I noticed two peculiar things: how scarce pegasi were and that many of the unicorns had curved horns.

Pinkie would’ve liked it, the whole thoroughfare looked like a huge, surreal carnival.

But the inhabitants of Canterlot weren’t the only reason why the street looked so cramped and boisterous. The space between buildings was filled with slack, thick wires and metal beam supports, with glowing signs hanging from them. The avenue was illuminated by the cold, artificial, opalescent neon radiance of innumerable adverts. In fact, their blinking luminance was the only source of light; no street lamps were around to be seen.

I tried to look through the entwinement of cables and girders, but the task was nearing the impossible. The sky was almost completely hidden from sight. The almost blinding radiance of the signage wasn’t helping either. My plan to locate the nearest Thunderspire just by looking for it had suddenly become much harder. The obscured view of the heavens didn’t leave me many options. The most obvious choice was to ask for directions. However, it wasn’t that simple either. Ponies, and equinoids for that matter, didn’t look friendly. I couldn’t say that their faces bore expressions of outright hostility, but inhospitality was clearly written across the muzzle of almost each equine on the street.

I looked around from the shadows of my cover and my eyes again fell on the small eatery. Just as before, it was bustling with an activity, the trio of unicorns making sure that no customer left their little establishment without a meal in stomach or hoof. The thing was, the filly dashing behind the counter looked the most welcoming, compared to anypony else that is. And there was a high chance that she knew the neighborhood.

Now I just needed to cross the street, which taking into account the heavy traffic, could be a challenge. Again, I wished that I had lungs, taking a deep breath was a small thing, but it would made me feel much better. Steeling myself, I took tentative step onto the pavement. Ponies and equinoids cantered in both directions in a seemingly endless stream, but after a few moments I saw an opening, my chance to cross the street without bumping into somepony on the each step. I rushed forward, but didn’t manage to make it very far before somepony, or maybe some equinoid rammed into me like a freight train. The huge equine clad in a black-finished metal armor didn’t flinch, or even spare me a glance while I was knocked aside. Luckily I still ended up staying on my hooves. Of course, that hitch led me to momentarily pausing on my way. Thus the temporary absence of the ponies was gone and I ended up amidst the moving crowd. Before I was able to gather my wits, I was pushed aside by another passerby. With my orientation in space lost once again, I received another hard shove along with some rude swearing. Still disoriented, I wasn’t able to move quick enough, and was jostled away once more. Fortunately, that spin finally kicked me out the moving mass of ponies. And what was even more fortunate was that I didn’t end up on the same side of the street; the eating joint was right behind me.

As I turned to face the counter I was immediately assaulted by two feelings, a heat radiating from the kitchen and the smells of food being cooked. Compared to everything I’d felt so far in those departments, I was in heaven. With my artificial body I had a strange sense of reality. Yes, I could feel cold, but it was more of a detection of temperature than an actual sensation – the chill wasn’t unpleasant or invigorating, I just knew it was there. Yet the heat coming from red-hot stoves made me feel better. It was more a psychological comfort than a real perception. The same could be said about smells, I had no stomach thus I could feel no hunger and had no need to eat, but I could still appreciate the aroma of a well-cooked hot meal. This place made me feel like I was in the civilized world for the first time since I awoke.

However, I didn’t come here to bask in the glow and relative homeliness of the small cafe. I came close enough to the edge of the counter to pass for a customer, though it suddenly occurred to me that an equinoid probably had no business in a place that serves food. Still, it didn’t take long for the filly-barmaid-cashier-waitress to approach me.

“Hi there, Miss Hooves-of-Iron,” the filly chirped at me while levitating a steaming box to a customer. She winked with the one of her digital eyes. “Sorry, all of our sockets are taken.” The little unicorn pointed with her hoof to the opposite end of the counter. There, in the shadow of the corner, two equinoids sat silently, thick cords from their bodies linked to sockets on the wall inside the cafe.

“Erm... thanks.” I turned back to the filly. “But that’s not what I needed.”

“Well, then you better make up your mind pronto, miss.” She served another packed portion of food to a passerby. Without missing a beat she continued, “The night shift ends soon and we are already behind schedule.” Dirty bowls from the counter were nimbly levitated to the tower of dirty dishes in the sink. “It’s one busy night, I tell you.”

“I just wanted to ask for directions.” It wouldn’t take long, right?

“Oh, it is simple, really: right, left, up, down, forwards and backwards.” The filly poked the air with her hooves as she listed general directions in space. “I hope I didn’t forget anything.” She beamed innocently at me, letters “L”, ”O” and “L” appearing on her visor instead of the image of her eyes.

When would I meet Tin Flower again, I needed to ask her to install me a set of eyes so that I would be able to roll them. It looked like getting my questions answered might take an unjustified amount of time.

“That’s obviously not what I meant,” I deadpanned. The city was already getting on my nerves and on top of that I didn’t know how much time I had. But I couldn’t afford to be playing any games with sassy fillies.

“Yikes, you are a lot of fun at parties, aren’t you?” To my envy, the filly’s visor played an animation of eyes being rolled. “Anyway, what are you looking for?”

“The closest Thunderspire.” I hoped that it was a question which left no opportunity for a sharp-witted answer.

“Huh? Since when did feathers-for-brains begin to hire stones-for-brains?” The filly smirked and one of her digital eyes got a digital eyebrow which was promptly raised. “Sounds like a start for a great joke...”

With my patience growing dangerously thin, I growled in exasperation, attracting glances, albeit lazy and even somewhat understanding, from nearest patrons.

“Whoa, chill your gems there, miss!” The filly raised her hooves in defense. “It’s fifteen blocks away from the Sky Palace, sheesh.”

I, foregoing any manners and politeness, just abruptly turned away and left without any thanks, silently fuming. As I turned away, I heard a few words thrown after me under a breath.

“Effing tin skulls…”

I trotted away from the food joint and a realization struck me, I didn't know where the Sky Palace was. Presumably it was that incredibly tall tower build atop the Diamond Point mountain, though I didn’t know for sure. And if it was true, then just like the Thunderspires it could only be seen from outside the city. From inside the city wall the sky was just too obscured to look for anything to orient off of.

I sat there heavily and pointed my gaze to the night sky. I couldn’t even close my eyes to calm myself and gather my thoughts. Or could I? I tried to force the shutters of my lenses to shut, and succeded only with “Tin Flower’s” eye. The eye Brass Litany installed just didn’t have the ability to shut. I felt like I was forced to experience this world no matter what. Yup, I had definitely ended up in Tartarus.

I shook my head. Okey, I was kind of calm now. I still needed to get to the south-east Thunderspire as fast as I could. I had to ask somepony for directions again. And I really hoped that pony would be devoid of any sense of humor.

I looked around in search of a relatively friendly face. Since I took just a few steps from the cafe, I didn’t have many options available. Patrons of the aforementioned establishment certainly were out of the question. I didn’t even want to be close to that place. Passersby were moving too fast, and most probably would just shove me away. I turned my head around in a fruitless attempt to find somepony who could help me. That’s when I noticed a pair of hooves poking from the other side of a garbage can near the eatery. I trotted closer, narrowly avoiding being pushed by ponies from the causeway trying to outrun each other.

An absolutely filthy, ruffled stallion laid on his back on top of a full garbage bag, like it was a cushioned chair. I winced as he horribly reeked of trash, sweat and alcohol. Despite being in a condition that can be called nothing less than disgusting, he seemed to be pretty much content with himself.

I hesitated. More than anything, I just wanted to turn away, but that would leave my inquiries unanswered and time wasted. At least this drunkard didn’t look hostile. If anything he was happy; a goofy smile was plastered across the stallion’s muzzle. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Excuse me, sir,” I gingerly began.

At first I thought that he didn’t notice me, but after a few moments he turned his head slightly, a purely horizontal motion, his muzzle was still tilted downwards, supported by his chest, with eyes rolled back in the head. I took it as a sign to continue.

“Do you know in which direction the Sky Palace is?” I asked, hoping that he didn’t have some kind of a joke ready on a tip of his tongue.

And he didn’t. He had something else ready for me. A whole load of vomit. The stallion violently threw up all over himself, erupting like a volcano. As I was turning away in aversion, I realized that this situation didn’t stop him from pointing with the hoof to the furthest end of the street. As the stream of technicolor mass stopped coming from his mouth, he rolled on his side and immediately began snoring, not bothered by the puddle of his rejected stomach contents.

Canterlot, a shining pearl of Equestria, everypony. The city of culture.

“Thanks. I guess.” I didn’t expected him to react, but one of us had to show some manners.

I looked in the direction the miserable stallion pointed. It was going to be a long walk.

Fifteen city blocks… We made a very early exit from the underground, it seemed. On one hoof, I would have to walk that distance anyway, but on the other, doing it on the surface was much more risky. After all, I was a “custom created equinoid” according to the law, and therefore illegal. And while it wasn’t entirely true in my case, I doubted I could prove otherwise if problems arose. Then again, the Tunnels weren’t completely safe either; even disregarding the deadly beast occupying the underground passage right now, that place appeared to be a sink of iniquity. Though, I did have those zebras with me…

Anyway, I had a considerable distance to cover right now and didn’t want to get in any trouble in the process. So, instead of joining the rushing stream of ponies in the middle of the street, I skittered from shadow to shadow on the very edge of the thoroughfare, trying to remain unseen and inconspicuous. I had yet to see even one member of law enforcement, but I didn’t want to try my luck, better safe than sorry. I had an option of following the labyrinth-like network of back alleys surrounding the main avenue, but those narrow paths that submerged into the darkness of the night were fraught with danger.

However, I had to use them anyway, every so often I hid in the shade of one or another to take a look forward and evaluate the situation. Mostly I was scanning the crowd for any signs of the police, I couldn’t know for sure what they looked like of course, but I hoped that through the centuries constabularies hadn’t forgone their trademark navy-blue uniforms.

I took shelter in one of the dark passages and glanced at the street, the next intersection before another backstreet looked just like any other. It was bustling with activity of all sorts, but not with something troubling, like a fight for an example; I had to wait out the one already. Nopony looking like a police officer was in sight either, which was just as important. The coast was clear. But before I returned to the neon lights of Canterlot, my gaze fell on the opposite wall.

Like any other wall in the little alleys, it was covered in drawings similar to ones in the Tunnels and in all sorts of stickers or posters of ponies missing. But one thing amongst them caught my attention, it was a peculiar drawing that stood out. Unlike the crude writings and obscene street murals, it was sprayed on the wall relatively carefully and looked starkly different. However, I had absolutely no idea what it meant, black squares and dots randomly filling a white background between bigger black squares, all together forming one large square.

As I stared at the strange painting, four green corners appeared in my eyesight and began adjusting themselves, focusing on the picture. Finally, they stopped moving and blinked a few times. I stood dumbfounded, trying to understand the meaning of this, then suddenly an image of a mare invaded my vision along with a voice in my head.

The semi-transparent figure moved in front of me, as if she was suspended in the air between me and the wall. Startled by this unheralded illusion, I took a step back.

“Hello, honey…” A sultry whisper permeated my hearing. The mare turned to me, glancing at me warmly with half-lidded eyes. She wore heavy make-up and some kind of undergarments, which were not only doing a terrible job at covering her private parts, but actually were accomplishing quite the opposite, exposing them as much as possible.

“Are you lonely?” The mare tilted her head and made a few slow steps, swaying her hips like a metronome. I tried to shake my head or even blink, but the scene before me was stubbornly persistent and I didn’t like where it was going in the slightest. I took one more step back and bumped into the wall. Now I was trapped between that indecent apparition and the concrete bulwark. Just great.

“You shouldn’t be…” the vision continued as the mare got uncomfortably close to me. Despite my attempts to dodge her, she leaned to my ear brushing against my cheek and breathed out, ”Everypony deserves some love…” Leaving my personal space, she winked at me. “And you will find plenty of love and passion at our house of joy…” She turned her back to me and swished her tail to the side. “We welcome you to our grand reopening of ‘Silken Flute’...”

To my horror a ghostly looking stallion appeared besides her in just as immodest attire. “Mares and stallions of any size...” Oh, Goddesses. “...And taste await you, darling…”

To my relief, the stallion disappeared into thin air. The mare, however, remained. ”To celebrate this wonderful occasion, for the next week we grant all our patrons a discount and prolonged sessions…” At this point I began contemplating smashing my face against the wall.

“Please, do hurry up, sweetheart.” The mare threw me a kiss and dissolved in the blackness of the dirty alley.

Only now I realised that I was standing on my back hooves, firmly pressing myself against the wall. I waited for a few moments to make sure the disturbing vision wouldn’t return. Then I slid down the concrete bulwark and slumped on the rubbish littering the backstreet.

Never in my life had I felt so violated.

I just sat in the darkness for a while, pulling myself together. There were many things I wasn’t prepared to see in the world of the future. And a pornographic advertisement for a brothel projected right into my brain was one of them. What would be next, adverts invading ponies’ dreams?

Alright. I could live with this.

Rising to my hooves I turned as fast as I could to avoid looking at the accursed picture on the wall. I made a mental note to not let my eyes linger on any adverts for more than half a second, unless I wanted to be molested by a virtual prostitute again.

I resumed traveling through the neon illuminated city, this time paying much more attention to inanimate objects as well. Canterlot was much more dangerous than I first thought, it held in itself perils not obvious to me. The progress always brought new issues with itself. And since I was in the dark about all the developments science had made during the last five centuries, I understood only a few of the technological marvels, and even that was vague at best. If I didn’t catch up with the basics of the advances made in my “absence”, I would be at risk of getting in troubles I couldn’t even foresee.

The distance I had to cover wasn’t that long, just about a kilometer, if nothing changed about the average length of a city block. It should have taken me no more than ten minutes of an unhurried trot, but because of how discreet my journey was, I doubted that I was even halfway to the Thunderspire. Also, I couldn’t really tell where city blocks were ending and beginning, which wasn’t helping me to evaluate my progress either.

I dived into the next shadow to take a look at the street before proceeding further. I quickly glanced around, not pausing on any walls this time. This alley seemed to be relatively safe. However, I had to do a double take, belatedly I realized that in my haste I overlooked something, or rather, somepony. I wasn’t the only one who found shelter in the shade of the backstreet.

It appeared to be an earth pony stallion absorbed in studying an illusion projected from a device on his hoof. Despite having some five o’clock shadow betraying his not so young age, he was very short, almost the size of a colt. An overgrown mane was half hidden under a greasy grey beanie hat. The rest of this stallion’s attire consisted of a brown dirty duster full of holes covering his scrawny body. He was sitting, leaning on the wall, watching a moving magic projection float above his wrist. The stallion constantly used his other hoof to swipe on the edge of the illusion. Sometimes that action was followed by him exhaling noisily from his nose.

And it looked like I didn’t learn at all. I stared at the stallion for only for a few seconds but it was enough for him to notice me. He shifted his gaze to me and we stared at each other for a few moments. Then his face dissolved into a grin. I prepared to run, but the stallion moved incredibly deftly to my side, taking me by surprise, for a moment I thought that he teleported.

“Ohayō, my friend!” Before I could react he spread the flap of his duster. I prepared for the worst. However, the worst never came, far from it in fact. Hanging on the inside of his duster flap were dozens of sparkly gems and small metal details. Motioning with his hoof the stallion smiled wickedly. “May I interest you in any of my wares?”

Well, at least I wasn’t dead or sexually molested; a much better outcome than what I thought was going to happen. Now I was just going to politely reject his offer, turn around and canter away. And I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to know what exactly his wares were.

“Erm...Thank you, sir. But, I really have to go!” I blurted out.

Not waiting for the answer, I turned around and walked out of the alley. Yes, I didn’t check for the police, but it was the risk I was willing to take, that stallion was making me extremely uneasy. And I still had yet to see anypony in uniform, anyway.

“Hey, wait! You don’t know what you’re missing!” The stallion didn’t take the hint and scampered after me in a hurry.

I quickened my pace, hoping that it would shake the sketchy trader off my tail, but he was fast enough to follow me step for step.

“Toots, just take a proper look, I’m sure I have something you need. You just don’t know it yet!” Despite his short legs, the stallion effortlessly caught up with me and was now cantering by my side.

“Thanks, sir, but I am really not interested at the moment, sorry.” I tried my luck again, hoping that he just didn’t get it the first time.

“‘Sir’? How quaint, can’t remember the last time I was called that.” He stuck to me like a bur. “Anyway, I’m sure I do have something to interest you, my metal amigo.” The trader stubbornly refused to give up in his endeavour to sell me something.

“I don’t even have any money with me…” I attempted another way to get rid of this huckster.

“It’s no issue, pal, I take the payment in crystals, spares, grazing tickets, chems… anything of value, really. Chems are especially welcome,” he said, licking his chapped lips, “do you have some Crimson Vapor by chance?”

Alright, it was time for a new tactic: just ignoring him. I spent way too much time on that street already, and I was sick and tired of this “new” Canterlot. I decided to just canter forward without any precaution, it proved to be an exercise in futility anyway, or rather, it brought me more trouble than it saved. The stallion was relentless in his desperate attempts to make me buy something from him.

“So, I’ve got some nifty software for yer metal kind. Wanna take a peek?”

The stallion proceeded to pull out a gem from the depths of his coat and put it in a slot on the device on his wrist. The device began to project columns of numbers and after a few moments an image, a logo consisting of three stylized letters T ,C and E appeared. The projection was blinking and distorting the whole time.

“See? It’s the original TCE stuff, not some fake code.” He basically shoved his foreleg in my muzzle. With his hoof this close I noticed a shining crack on the crystal, just like the one on the converter core. “You won’t get it anywhere, I tell you. A great bang for your buck.”

I just silently pressed forward, trying not to even look in his direction. Common sense was telling me that everything this up-to-no-good stallion had was of a questionable quality at very best.

“Come on, mate, I know you have a heart of gold, and I have a family to feed,” pleaded the trader, “two cute little foals, you won’t let them starve, will you?” He decided to change tactics as well. However, I was one hundred percent sure that it was a blatant lie.

The silent treatment wasn’t helping, the stallion was showing an impressive perseverance. Just imagine what he could do if he put all that persistence into a productive channel...

“Listen, I can give you a discount, but I’m already cutting myself without a knife!” The trader hopped to my other side, as if would change anything.

Noticing that it didn’t work, the stallion began to walk backwards right in front of me, trying to catch my eyes. Thanks to his meager height, it was no trouble for me to completely ignore him.

“Hey, hey, hey! You know what? I can throw a couple of spares as a bonus.” A few components emerged from his pockets with a help of deft hooves. “Just think of it, an original code, a discount and even a bonus! You won’t get a better deal anywhere else!”

The stallion quickly glanced in the direction we were moving and turned back to me, his jaws already half-open to spew another promise of the best deal in the city. But before a single word left the trader’s mouth, his eyes widened and the stallion took a double take on what was behind him.

“Oh, shit! Got to go! Find me later, buddy!” He snapped out and dashed to the nearest backstreet.

It took me by surprise, the stallion was so inclined and hard-set that I didn’t expect him to disappear in a mere second.

I looked forward and saw nothing out of the ordinary Same blinking lights, ponies walking around. Maybe it was a certain somepony he wanted to avoid? Well, at least the trader was gone, and I was thankful for that. I just continued to canter forward.

But something was different. I couldn't tell it from first glance, but the street had indeed changed.

I stopped near the dumpster and took a proper look at the thoroughfare.

At first sight all was the same. Neon signs, dirt, equines hurrying in both directions… Yes, that was it. Just as in the Tunnels, they were moving faster than before and mostly in one direction, the one I came from. Telltale signs of ponies and equinoids escaping from something. Did “joka” get to the surface?

I looked forward to where I was supposed to go, though I had some doubts about it now. I could see nothing out of place, but I might simply not know what to look for.

The view of the end of the street was blurring together in a mix of shadows, silhouettes and neon lights. It was the same as the first time my gaze fell upon it. But something had to be different, right? And as I stared in the distance I realized it was a very subtle difference, but the lights, they changed. Instead of erratically fluctuating rainbow colors, it was mostly red and blue, pulsing steadily. If only I could take a better look… wait, in fact, I could. But I had to improvise.

I blinked and one of my eyes zoomed in. This way I couldn’t see a thing – it was too disorienting. But I had a ridiculously simple solution to that. I raised my hoof and covered my right eye. Why didn’t I think of it earlier?

I focused on the mysterious lights at the end of the street. It took me less than a second to realise what was the cause of all the commotion and why the shady trader ran away.

A full police platoon was combing the street, covering its whole breadth.

Police were recognizable, yes. But at the same time it was very different from what I remembered. They now looked more like an army than anything else.

They didn’t wear uniforms anymore. Instead, heavy metal plated and relatively light plastic armors served as protection with crash-helmets hiding their eyes from sight. Though their armor was still painted dark blue with golden badges brightly gleaming on their chest plates. But their attire wasn’t the only thing that made me think for a moment that I was looking at an army detachment.

Right behind the ponies, a large armored vehicle hovered above the ground. Its steel bulk was occupying almost the entire street, towering above the platoon. On top of it a pony in a greatcoat and service cap stood overseeing the whole operation. On both sides of this pony, police officers were sitting behind huge guns mounted on tripods. Their long barrels constantly moved, scanning the street.

That vehicle was one of sources of red and blue light. The others were two steel giants of ponies – clad not just in metal armor, but in huge bulky cybersuits. However, they looked nothing like the fateful suit of armor from my past. They were hulking thick exoskeletons, lumbering behind the whole platoon. From this far it was hard to tell, but somehow I knew that just mere steel plates, not arcanium ones, hid the ponies underneath. It was surprising yet disappointing that after five centuries, one of the most advanced technologies had become inferior to its prototype. But then again, the prototype didn’t even survive a trial.

The police weren’t just marching forward – they were at work. Anypony who didn’t leave the street for whatever reason was apprehended. Mostly it appeared to be ponies in not quite lucid states of mind. Drunkards and drug addicts who didn’t even see the police coming were now providing resistance, which was met with the utmost violence. Batons crackling with electricity swished through the air together with armored hooves landing heavy blows on anypony who refused to cooperate. And it seemed like everypony who wasn’t smart enough to flee was automatically deemed uncooperative.

But it wasn’t there that the police stopped – armored figures were diving into backstreets and dragging beaten bodies back. Sometimes they even entered buildings only to throw thrashing ponies outside.

Unconscious bodies were cuffed and transported to the back of the procession, where another, smaller vehicle followed the merciless police force. It was almost impossible to see from that far even with the zoom, but presumably it was some kind of a carriage for arrested ponies.

Slowly but relentlessly, two squads of police were clearing the street of any live beings. And they were moving in my direction.

I blinked and zoomed back. Taking cover behind the corner of the nearest building, I began to think.

This was bad. In my current situation there was no way I could avoid having trouble with law enforcement. It seemed like nopony could. But I needed to get past them somehow. Hiding somewhere to outwait them was too risky an option – there was no telling what would happen to me if I was found. Using the backstreets to get around the police blockade wasn’t a reliable plan either – I didn’t know how far away the alleys went or how deeply the police ventured into them. And I also didn’t know the layout, so I could easily find myself either lost or cornered.

I had to turn back. I had to turn back and… and… I was out of ideas what I was supposed to do next. I wished I had a map, but for now it wasn’t the biggest of my concerns.

I joined the crowd hurrying away from the impending assault of the law. Fortunately it was rather sparse and nopony paid any attention to me. Maybe it would be a good idea to follow those ponies. They probably had more of an inkling than me of how to avoid arrest or whatever was awaiting me if I was to meet the police.

I was cantering behind a large stallion, unintentionaly following him like a shadow. He either didn’t notice me or simply didn’t care. The pony looked relatively “normal” compared to some other citizens I had seen today. Dressed in working robes, the earth pony looked like he was either returning from work, or travelling to another task – opened saddlebags were filled with tools and components, jingling as the stallion cantered forward.

Suddenly, he was shoved aside by a mare who rushed past us to where I was fleeing from. Why would she do that, though? Maybe she just didn’t know… The stallion muttered a curse as he followed her with his eyes and turned back. But instead of continuing to walk, he squinted.

“Fuck! It’s a vice raid,” the stallion said to himself and madly dashed to the nearest building entrance.

I looked forward and immediately understood the meaning of his words. The street up ahead was filled with the familiar winking red-blue glow and cries of ponies being beaten.

This was very bad.

I just stood in the middle of the street, surrounded by panicking ponies, dashing in both directions and scattering to back alleys or nearby buildings. Somepony was even digging their way into a trash container.

I had absolutely no idea what to do now.

I rushed to the closest door and tried to pull it – it didn’t open. I tried to push but got the same result. Hiding in buildings was out of question. That meant I had only one option left.

Rounding the corner of the building I entered an alley, but to my dismay it was a dead end. I was ready to run away and try my luck with another passage, but then I heard a whisper.

“Hey, sister!” A rustling voice came from somewhere near.

I looked around trying to locate the source of the sound. It was a gap in a barely opened sewage hatch – it looked exactly like the one I had used not so long ago. A couple of glowing eyes peered at me from the darkness.

“Pssst, sister, come over here.” The gap widened and a metal hoof motioned me to walk over.

Through the opening I saw an equinoid glancing nervously around. I looked back at the street – I could already see the pulse of red and blue on walls. I turned back to the equinoid, who was motioning me with the hoof again.

“Hurry up, sister, or meat is going to get you.”

I wasn’t eager to interact with the Machine Goddess followers, but I wanted even less to know what happens to equinoids caught by the police.

If I didn’t know better I would say that it was the same entrance I emerged from in the first place. Only little details made the difference – trash cans in the alcove, rust on the hatch or the lack of lighting after the stairs. Other than that it was all the same – a steep staircase and narrow corridor leading straight to the Tunnels.

I wasn’t keen on visiting the underground, especially considering that this time I didn’t have the protective presence of the striped guides. This vacancy, however, might be taken by the newly met equinoid.

The metal pony who basically saved my life didn’t drop a single word so far. She or he – I had real trouble telling the difference this time – just trotted ahead without sparing me a glance. I didn’t know where to go next and this corridor led only to the Tunnels, so I had no choice but to follow this pony.

Soon we came out to a main tunnel, lit with the familiar pale cyan light. It was surprisingly empty – most probably the underground dwellers still hadn’t returned after fleeing from the “joka”.

Now, when my equinoid saviour wasn’t hidden by the darkness, I was able to take a proper look at them. That metal pony was… run-of-the-mill. Most of the equinoids I had seen so far had something unique in their looks. This pony, however, looked like a ponnyquin brought to life – featureless and uniform – a standard model. And nothing was giving the gender of this equinoid away.

Also, that pony didn’t look like they were going to pay me any attention. They didn’t pause to turn back and check if I made it, they just resumed trotting ahead to the one of the adjacent ducts.

It wouldn’t do. I had no idea how to navigate the underground paths and no other creature, except for rats, could be seen around.

“Hey, thanks for helping me there,” I called to the equinoid.

They stopped and turned to me.

“No problem, sister,” they said in an emotionless, neutral voice. Then added sounding just a bit irritated, “A lot of our brethren were taken by surprise today. It was an out-of-schedule raid.” The equinoid tsked – a sharp, unpleasant sound. “The Edge meat fucked up again.”

“What does the Edge has to do with it?” came my curious response.

“Everytime something happens at the Edge, blue armors raid the city for fresh meat to send there.” My question was followed by a curt yet intelligible explanation.

It made sense – just recently there was a change in power at the Junkyard. Judging by how many bodies I saw – and it was only a glimpse of the massacre – the sector might need to replenish its numbers of workponies.

While I was connecting the dots in my mind, the equinoid didn’t wait and was almost gone by the time I came to.

“Wait!” I yelled in their direction.

“Listen, sister.” The equinoid paused for a moment, but then continued to move towards the nearest portal. “I would like to stay and have a chat, but I have to go.”

“Can you tell me how to get to the nearest Thunderspire?” I got straight to the point – I had to go too, after all.

“The Thunderspire?” Such a tone of a voice was usually accompanied by a raised brow, but just like me they weren’t capable of doing so. “Take the next turn to the right.” The equinoid pointed in the direction I should follow. “And then keep it that way. When you see feathered meat – you are there.”

“Tha…” I tried to express my gratitude, but the mysterious equinoid had already dissolved in the deep shadows of one of the smallest tunnels. “...nks,” I lamely finished, addressing the empty space.

Fine. They didn’t even introduce themselves or give me a chance to do it, but at least I knew where to go. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get lost. The directions I received sounded simple, but in practice the Tunnels could turn into an untraversable labyrinth as soon as I left the main path.

As I already noted to myself, the Tunnels were deserted. I had high hopes that the “joka” was actually gone already and I wasn’t about to meet it at the next corner. But the equinoid would have warned me if the beast was still around, right? ...right?

Better just not think about it too hard, or I might miss the turn.

Here it was. Barely lit, the entrance to the small maintenance tunnel greeted me with a chilly draft coming out of it like a whisper of a vicious winter. Did I really have to go in there? I looked where the main passway was leading – a few dozen steps ahead I could see an intersection in its path. It looked much more safe and welcoming, but I wasn’t sure if it was worth being lost. Nothing changed in terms of the current underground population – I highly doubted that rats would give me directions or trouble.

Bracing myself, I dove into the blackness.

It wasn’t completely devoid of light, the faintest orange glow was barely enough to make this passage navigable. Fortunately, it sounded and seemed like it was just as desolate as the main tunnel. But even in this nearly complete darkness I could see how dirty the tunnel was. Dust mounted in the corners along with rubbish of varying nature. It was hard to tell for sure, but it seemed like the stench in this duct was stronger than on the main path, despite the chilly draft. Speaking of which, I had no idea where it was coming from. I saw no grates, holes or anything that could serve as the source for the moving air, but it was there – the piercing yet subtle breeze was engulfing my hooves in its frigid embrace.

So… I had to turn right, which I did, and then “keep it that way”. Did they mean that I had to constantly turn right every time I got a choice? Or just I had to go forward after the previous turn? And for how long did I have to walk this narrow pathway?

Lost in that thought, I nearly smashed muzzle-first into a wall – it was becoming a dangerous habit. Still, it meant that I came to either a dead-end or a turn. Luckily it was a turn – and it was to the left. Considering the fact that it was the only way, it meant that I just had to move forward, without need to take every turn to the right. To my further relief, I saw a pale light at the end of the corridor.

I emerged from the dark passage to the tunnel which looked pretty much the same as the main passage that I came from initially. I looked to the left and in the distance saw an intersection – again very similar to the one I had seen before. It wasn’t much to make assumptions upon, but the Tunnels, or at least that level, appeared to be a net consisting of parallel tunnels, roughly mirroring streets above. It sounded logical in my head – those underground passages probably were some sort of a sewage or drainage system before they were turned into what they were now – roads and sanctuary for … fringe elements.

Now that I had a vague idea of The Tunnels’ layout, I could try and visualise in my mind the path I had to take. And just as the equinoid told, it was the most logical to keep it to the right – beneath the street I just left.

On one hoof the silence of the underground was rather daunting, on the other I didn’t have to hide in shadows and was unlikely to get in trouble if I didn’t meet anypony. But I still trotted ahead carefully, giving a wide berth to the large piles of trash crawling with rats. But it was not the vermin who repelled me – mounds of such size could easily hide a pony within.

For a single moment my thoughts returned to what I saw in the city – the police raid. Even after everything I had witnessed so far, the vicious violence used to impose order shook me to the core. And that “order” implied apprehending everypony who wasn’t fast enough to flee and sending them to the Edge to serve the rest of their lives as slaves. It was concerning, no doubt, but it was just one of many vile symptoms of a disease slowly rotting away what was left of Equestria. What worried me much more was that I didn’t know how widespread the raid was or if the streets near the south-east Thunderspire were being combed just like the one above. Could the girls be caught in the roundup? If they made it to the city in the first place, of course. It was my biggest concern for now – if I didn’t meet Flower and Wire at the Thunderspire, I had absolutely zero ideas what I could possibly do next with my so called life.

Suddenly, when I was nearing the intersection, I heard something, or rather, somepony from the closest adjacent small tunnel. The first signs of life sounded like a fight, which, I suppose, wasn’t out of place in the Tunnels. I had already seen one after all. It wasn’t my business at all – it would be wise to just pass that scene as fast as I could in hope to remain unnoticed and avoid any sort of trouble. But something, maybe my conscience or just simple curiosity compelled me to take a peek.

I hid myself in the shadows opposite the dark portal of the smaller tunnel and gazed into the opening. But what I saw there wasn’t a brawl as I thought initially. It was much worse. There, under dim lights of dying lamps a group of stallions were raping a mare.

I stood enveloped in a thick shade, mortified and unable to avert my eyes from the horror unfolding before me. I knew that it was a situation perfectly fitting the nightmare Canterlot had become. But I still couldn’t accept it. I wasn’t willing to accept it. There probably wasn’t much I could do, but I would rather die than walk by such an atrocity. The Elements might reject me, but that didn’t mean I rejected Harmony.

I had enough of this damned future. I was fed up with all the violence and depravity. I was already tired of my crippled life and helplessness. So, I finally snapped. Fueled by righteousness and pain, I blindly charged forward as fast as my metal limbs would allow. It took me only a few strides to cross the span of the tunnel, sending small whirls of sparks each time my hooves hit the grated floor.

With an inequine scream, sounding like a screech of twisting metal, I lunged at one of the stallions. The inertia of my body was transferred into the jagged tips of my hooves, which punched through the assaulter’s ribcage. As red splattered across my muzzle, I realised that I vastly underestimated the power my artificial body possessed. I only intended to knock that pony from his hooves.

I landed heavily on the yelling, bleeding stallion in a tangle of limbs. Instantly, I tried to stand up, but almost fell again when I slipped on something. I hoped that the unseen fluid wasn’t the oily “blood” escaping the confines of my fragile body once again, otherwise the fight might end quickly and not in my favor. Even though I took the rapists by surprise, they recovered by the time I managed to gain some balance, and as soon as I got off the victim of my assault, I received a powerful buck to my ribs.

My whole frame rattled as I smashed into a wall. By merit of the passage being very narrow, I wasn’t sent far, and that shove was more of an inconvenience than a real damaging blow. These urban ponies didn’t have any true power in their hooves – I bet none of those stallions had bucked a tree in their lives. Being born a unicorn, I had never participated in brawls of any sort, but I knew that speed was of the essence. So I swiftly turned to the remaining assaulters and took a low stance, hooves shoulder width apart.

Right in front me of stood two large stallions. In the near darkness I could barely see them, nor did I have the time to take a proper look. Their partner in crime was lying on the floor wailing in pain, his hooves, one metal and one natural, pressed to the hemorrhaging wound. Behind the thugs, with eyes wide from fear, the poor mare was huddling herself to the wall. With me and the injured stallion blocking the only exit, she was just trying to get as far away as possible from the action.

It was quite a fast turn and my stance, supposed to mimic Rainbow Dash’s pose, was probably right. But it was too late. In the split second after I turned I saw one stallion lower his hoof that was wrapped in a thick rusty chain. It whipped with a sharp whistle through the air and hit me hard in the muzzle, sending me reeling. Or maybe I turned too early – taking the hit with my body would probably be more preferable.

I took a very hard blow, the heavy links had much more strength behind them than the buck of the city pony. With a crisp tinkle of broken glass my left eye burst out in a shower of gleaming shards. Damn it, that was my best eye – sorry, Tin Flower!

From the sheer power of the impact, my head slammed back into the wall. I couldn’t allow myself to be beaten to death in some Goddesses-forgotten sewage tunnel. Not after everything I had been through. Pushing with all my hooves against a bulwark of the wall, I launched myself at the stallion with the chain, who was already beginning to raise it for another devastating strike.

I cannoned into him with all my weight, knocking the stallion from his hooves and hammering his body against the opposite wall. The frightened mare barely managed to scamper away from the devastating percussion, even further holing up in the corner. The force of the impact knocked the air out of the unlucky perpetrator, making him drop the chain on the floor with a painful grunt, there it coiled like a snake ready to spring.

The fight was turning in my favor. I turned to the last assaulter, but he was already helping his bleeding fellow to rise. Seeing my glare, they both hastened their effort to flee. The stallion I smashed into the wall slipped away and was hobbling on the three half-bent legs while holding his barrel with the hoof, trying to catch up with his mates. I vaguely remembered the muffled crunching sound when I slammed into him.

I waited until the sounds of the stallions’ steps faded away and only then I turned to the mare. She half-sat, half-laid pressing herself to the wall in the corner of the dead-end passage. Underneath a long mane, an eye round from horror peeked at me.

I couldn’t blame that mare – her state was totally understandable. Just a minute ago she was being violated in the worst way and now she had to witness how an insane machine almost tore ponies apart right in front of her.

I carefully approached the poor mare, but she only pressed herself harder against the wall, shivering in fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I tried to reassure her in the most soothing and kind voice I could manage.

After a moment of hesitation the mare visibly relaxed, but the wary look she was giving me didn’t leave her eye. Moving slowly, I offered my hoof to help her get up from the cold and dirty floor. She almost didn’t flinch.

“Are you alright?” It was quite a pointless question, of course. But the silent treatment wasn’t something she needed right now.

“Yes.” She finally took my outstretched hoof and picked herself up. “And thanks. For… um, not killing me.”

I blinked in confusion. Well, I tried – I had no eyes left that could blink. But on the inside I blinked.

“I... I was just trying to save you from those stallions.” I may have looked like war incarnate in the process, though. “I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

“It was quite scary.” The mare nodded. She had a soft and warm voice, somewhat reminding me of Fluttershy. Her long hair was only emphasizing the resemblance. “Then, I guess, I should also thank you for saving me from those shitheads.” She spat on the floor and began dusting herself off. Grumbling, she added, “It wasn’t the worst I’ve had, but it’s still not how I planned to spend the rest of the night.”

“Wasn’t the worst...?” I weakly echoed in shock. What could possibly be worse than that? Was there a limit to atrocities in this gruesome future?

“Yeah, there was one time when four local factories had a payday and we were the only brothel open around,” she explained to me in a disgruntled tone. Cringing with the corner of her mouth, she added, “Couldn’t sit for a week after that.”

She was a prostitute… It explained why she recovered so quickly after that happened. However, nothing in her appearance was giving away her occupation – but only on first glance. There was one little thing I didn’t notice before, or just didn’t pay attention – a little symbol on her cheek, right under the eye. It was a glowing pink heart, circled and crossed with uneven black lines. While I didn’t know for sure the nature of the stylized image of a heart, I could definitely say that those dark lines were burns, and recent ones, judging by how they looked.

“But aren’t you supposed to be protected by the Crown?” I asked, remembering Red Wire’s words.

“Well, I would be,” the mare bitterly began, “if they didn’t decide that they didn’t need me anymore.” With those words she flicked her mane away and looked me directly in the face.

I barely stopped myself from taking a step back. The half of her muzzle, previously hidden in confines of her long thick mane, was revealed to me. And it was a one huge ugly burn with her left eye obscured by a nebula, clearly visible even in the wan light.

“I… I’m so sorry,” I stuttered. Nothing else was coming to my mind at the moment.

“It’s alright.” She waved her hoof in a dismissal and thought for a moment. “Actually, it’s not,” the mare began to grumble again, “if I was still a Moth, I wouldn’t have to hide from the blue armors and wouldn’t end up here doing the job I’m not paid for anymore.” She sighed again. “Well, at least I met an equinoid who helps ponies. Not something you can see everyday.”

I just didn’t know how to comment on that. Were all equnoids like Brass Litany? Was it really that bad?

“I think the raid should be over by now.” The mare looked around the sordid narrow passage, now stained with blood. “The thing is, I’m not really familiar with the Tunnels. Um, could you please show me the way to the surface…” She faltered momentarily. “Sorry, I forgot to ask your name.” Rubbing back of her head with the hoof in embarrassment she added, “If you have one, of course.”

Despite deciding to be more careful with my name, I felt that it would be somewhat wrong to lie to that mare. And she still had a bit of a cautious look in her eye – telling my name could dissuade her worries a bit.

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“Clandestine Delight.” She smiled for the first time since I met her. “Nice to meet you.”

Together we exited the small tunnel. To be honest, I still wasn’t very sure about my ability to orient in the Tunnels. I guess I could just guide her back to the entrance I used no so long ago.

I glanced at Clandestine Delight who was warily looking around, as if expecting the stallions from before to return. I couldn’t blame her.

She appeared to be in a much better shape than most ponies I had seen so far. It seemed that being protected by the government had its merits. Also, the thing I didn’t see in the murky dimness of the passway – Clandestine Delight was a pegasus. Built relatively tall for her race, she sported a healthy body of a young, not-malnourished mare – a rarity in this city. Delight was completely devoid of any sort of prosthetics or augmentations. Though, most of her left side – face, neck and chest bore the mark of a severe, badly healed burn. However, a long, wavy, gorgeous mane of a periwinkle color cascaded other those scars, almost hiding them away. It perfectly harmonized with the creamy pink of her remaining eye. An almost white coat, with a barely noticeable pale blue tint was complementing Delight’s mellow and soothing look.

Clandestine Delight glanced in my direction and visibly paled – an impressive feat for a pony of her complexion. What? Did I look that bad in the light of the tunnel? But then I realised that she wasn’t looking at me – her petrified gaze was fixed on something behind my shoulder.

I slowly turned around, following her gaze. And just like Clandestine Delight I froze in place in horror.

From the shadows of a smaller tunnel, a huge silhouette, without a sound, as if gliding, was creeping towards us. It was way too big to belong to a pony or even a zebra. Nor could the gleaming eyes belong to any equine – they were the hungry eyes of a predator.

Its long muzzle, clad in charred steel, was the first to peer out of the veil of darkness. Where nostrils should be, two vents were placed, and wisps of smoke were rising from them in a rhythm with invisible bellows.

Before the rest of the snout appeared from the blackness, a large paw stepped on the floor with an almost inaudible clink. Just like the jaws of that creature, it was covered in metal, ending with long sharp claws from what appeared to be black glass. To my horror, they glistened with fresh blood; shreds of skin and mane were stuck in between the razor sharp blades.

And then the rest of the beast’s head emerged from shadows, only a couple of hooves away from me.

I looked it in the glowing eyes. They were two pools of vibrant jade fire crossed by vertical pupils and framed in a cage of steel. But between the cold metal and green eyes, a small patch of bloodied skin could be seen.

Skin covered in purple scales.

We stared each other in the eyes for an eternity or maybe a mere moment, and I saw how bloodlust, hunger and fury were snuffed away only to be replaced by recognition, shock and… agony.

My mouth silently moved, trying to expel one word stuck in my throat.

“Spike?”

Author's Notes:

And here goes a new chapter which begins the next story arc. I do have a few more things to say, but it all will be in a blog post I'm going to post morrow.

As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
There were no updates at all for a while, but it's not abandoned.

Aftersound Project Discord server – it is still empty, and I have not many people to talk to. If you don't feel like joining another of countless servers, poke me at least. New friends are always a welcome thing.

Chapter 6 – The city of broken dreams and hopes

Spike and I stood like statues amidst the darkness of the Canterlot underground, our gazes interlocked. I felt like I was staring into Spike’s pain filled eyes for hours, but in reality only a few seconds passed. I knew it because I could hear Clandestine Delight choking from the sheer terror she was experiencing. It was the only sound disturbing the grave silence hanging heavily in the air.

I finally remembered what the word “joka” meant. Back when the first Zebrican dignitaries in centuries arrived in Canterlot, they were quite surprised to see a dragon amongst ponies; dragons were usually unwelcome by equines and rare to see outside their scorched homeland. They referred to Spike as “joka kidogo” – a name for all large scaly beings: dragons, sea serpents, wyverns. But since Spike wasn’t a huge, spiteful, death-breathing reptile, the zebras called him “kidogo”, a little one. They got along pretty well – Spike needed something to distract him from the most recent events. She was just as important to him, after all.

It was so long ago, when the war had only begun and our hopes were high. What was thought to be a short liberation mission went on for months, however. Months turned into years, and the distant battle for Equestria wordlessly called for Spike with every snippet of news from the Crystal Empire’s borders. Time after time I rejected his request to join the fray; he was too young and too innocent. But as the years passed by I could see how my number one assistant peaked and pined from a tedious life in laboratories too small for his growing frame. So, with a heavy heart I let Spike go to the frontline, but with one condition – he wasn’t allowed to participate in actual warfare. Nevertheless, his presence was very welcomed and his help was invaluable – Spike used his enchanted flames to pass the most sensitive information without danger of it being intercepted.

Since I came back to life, I had tried to avoid thinking about Spike. It was hard to accept the possible deaths of my friends, but it was something expected – five hundred years had passed after all. I had a sliver of hope that some of them might still be alive, but I would understand if they were but a memory by now. Spike, however… An average dragon’s lifespan could rival that of the true alicorns. But it was a very risky thing to cling onto. Anything could have happened to him in this nightmarish world. He might even have died during the war, I didn’t know how long it lasted after I “died” in the accident. And I didn’t know what was worse. Getting my hopes up was a dangerous path, one potentially leading to a lot of suffering. It seemed, however, that it mattered not in the end.

Like in a mirror, I saw my memories reflected in the eyes of the abomination my foster son had become. I could recognize those eyes anywhere, anytime. Even with Spike’s muzzle hidden by the metal armor and his body much bigger than I remembered. Even in his seemingly feral state of mind, those eyes were the same.

And I knew that Spike recognized me. He didn’t need to see my familiar face or lavender coat to know who was standing right in front of him. Spike was a dragon, a creature of the most primal magic and thus he could feel magic himself. It was five centuries, yes, but I doubted Spike would ever forget the touch of magic that brought him to life. It was the very same magic that whisked me from the realm of oblivion not so long ago. And it now oozed from every crack of my metal body.

I… I didn’t know how to feel. What to do. Any words felt like a bone in my throat. Guided not by my mind, but by raw emotion, I tried to reach out with my hoof. All that time Spike was still, overhanging above me like a gargoyle. My sudden motion provoked a violent reaction.

He reared on his legs and screamed. It was not a ferocious roar of a predator stalking the subterrain darkness for prey to rend. It was a wail of horrible realization and immense agony. I heard a shrill yelp behind me and a loud thud. Clandestine Delight either cowered in fear or simply fainted. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from Spike to check on her.

Before the echoes of the ghastly howl faded away, Spike fell on his knees and began to claw on the steel covering his body. Glass-like talons carved deep into the metal like it was butter, exposing tender flesh beneath. I gasped in horror as drops of crimson blood fell on the grated floor. Without even thinking, I rushed to Spike. But he noticed it the moment I tried to take the first step towards him. Again, he reared up and spread his claws, painting the walls in his gore, accompanying it with a roar of pain and anger. Spike made a full turn on the spot, so fast and vehement that his tail smashed out a chunk of the wall. By the time my hoof finally found a landing on the floor, Spike was rushing away through the tunnel, stumbling into walls and bellowing in agony, leaving deep furrows and red stripes behind.

In a moment he was completely gone, swallowed by the underground passages. I wanted to go after him, but I knew that chasing Spike was pointless right now. I didn’t know The Tunnels at all, but more importantly – something was very wrong with Spike. Something twisted his mind and body. And until I somehow found out what happened to him, it might be dangerous for both of us to meet again.

It was hard to refrain from following the only familiar thing from the past, but I knew it was the best decision in my current situation. Nevertheless, I still felt hollow inside. Spike and I always shared a special bond – I was the closest he had to a mother, and he was just as important to me. Even if he began to forge his own path in later years, I still loved him no less. Seeing Spike like this… it was tearing me apart. However, it wasn’t a crippling sorrow; either I had grown numb from all I had seen already, or I just couldn’t feel that much because of my unnatural body limitations.

I promised to myself that I would learn what caused Spike to be like this and then I would fix it, no matter what. But right now, I had two fillies, waiting for me in this horrible city, to rejoin, not to mention Clandestine Delight, who didn’t take the meeting with Spike very well.

I turned to the poor mare – just as with me, luck didn’t seem to be on her side lately. The pegasus curled on the floor, shielding her head and body with hooves and wings. She quietly whimpered and sobbed, shivering in her horseshoes. My eyes swept over her shaking form, I and saw her cutie mark, clearly visible on the white coat.

A simple subdued pink heart with two bandaids crossing in the centre of it. What a cruel world. I had never seen a cutie mark like this, but it wasn’t the first heart-related one. I could imagine a dozen jobs off the top of my head fitting for Clandestine Delight, but of all options she had to end up with this one, something I wouldn’t even think of. It felt like it was ironic on purpose.

“Hey, Clandestine Delight…” I softly called. But the snow white mare only curled tighter. She appeared to be inclined to silt through the grated floor to the lower level of The Tunnels. I desperately didn’t want to poke the frightened pegasus, in fear of giving her a stroke.

“Delight,” I called again, louder this time. After a moment of thought, I added, “he’s gone now, you’re safe.”

Sobs grew a little quieter and a single pink bloodshot eye tentatively peeked at me from between long feathers. Just as carefully and slowly, Clandestine Delight timidly rose to her hooves, the wide-eyed gaze fixed on the space behind my shoulder all that time. Realising that Spike was gone and she somehow miraculously survived, the pegasus looked at me with amazement and… awe?

“Y-you… it..? What..? How did you…?” Clandestine Delight stuttered, alternating between pointing with her hoof at me and the now vacant tunnel. I glanced behind, just in case.

“I knew him once, long ago,” I sadly uttered, turning back to the pegasus. I had some explaining to do. And I didn’t want to lie or hide this time, nor could the former prostitute be any menace to me anyway. Also, I desperately wanted to tell somepony my story, to share the heavy burden. I craved for a bit of genuine empathy after all the recent events.

“Are you…” Clandestine Delight blinked, looking at me with even more wonderment than before, “... a Former One?” She whispered with a reverence.

I had to rummage through my latter memories, I’d clearly heard that already… Right? They were the ponies who had somehow found ways to be immortal, or at least live for centuries, according to Scuff Gear at least. However, it wasn’t really my case.

“Not exactly…” I began. “I lived five centuries ago. And died.” I wasn’t completely sure when or how, though. A stray thought visited my mind. Could the “original” Twilight Sparkle... still be alive? No. There was no way in Equestria I would let things be like this. Anyway. “But I was brought back to life a few days ago,” I finished.

Clandestine Delight wordlessly moved her jaws, gears turning in her head.

“That was… in the Princesses’ Ages, right? Unbelievable...” She finally said with uncertainty. The pegasus mare visibly stumbled with her next words. If I were to meet somepony from a half millennium ago, back in my time of course, I would have some trouble with what to say, too.

For the first time I acutely felt a huge chasm between myself and modern ponies. For them, I was a relic, so ancient that my name had long since dispersed in the river of time. Clandestine Delight and I barely had anything in common, and not just because she was a pony and I was a machine with a magic imprint of a pony.

Once again I wished I knew how to sigh. My hope to find a warmth of compassion, shattered, just like my glass eyes. This was where our encounter ended, it seemed. That was a shame. Clandestine Delight was the first decent pony so far, not counting Flower and Wire, obviously. Speaking of which, I had already spent too much time underground. It wasn’t wasted by any means, but that didn’t make it any less gone.

“Listen, Delight,” I awkwardly began, “it was nice to meet you, but I really have to go now. I will point you the way to the surface, of course…”

“Wait!” the pegasus suddenly yelled, grabbing me by the shoulders. Looking me in the eye, she continued in a pleading tone, “please, take me with you!”

I was taken aback by such a request. It was the last thing I expected.

“But why? You don’t even know where I’m going,” I asked, trying to understand Clandestine Delight’s plea.

“I have nowhere to go…” Clandestine Delight replied, her voice breaking. The pegasus hanged down her head and quietly sniffled. I saw the mare battling with herself, trying to decide how much she wanted to admit the direness of her situation without sounding too desperate. Then she looked at me with a hope and firmly continued, only with a slight waver. “And if you became alive again a few days ago, you might need some help around, everything has to be new to you, right? I owe you that much – you saved my life.”

Clandestine Delight had a fair point – I desperately needed help. Regardless of if I met the girls or not, unfortunately, they didn’t seem to know much about anything beyond The Edge. Also, something was telling me that Clandestine Delight wouldn’t last long on her own. She didn’t appear to be the kind of mare made for life in modern Canterlot. We needed friends out there, we needed each other.

The decision was not hard to make.

“Alright. Then let’s go, I have friends to meet.”

“So, Miss Sparkle,” Delight gingerly tried to start a conversation. We trotted side by side through still empty tunnels in silence for a while, and it was starting to become quite awkward. “Who are your friends exactly?”

I chuckled. Probably for the first time since I woke up in Flower’s workshop, I felt amusement. Clandestine Delight still looked at me with awe in her eyes as if I was one of the Princesses. It was just as confusing as endearing. I had my share of respect as head of the royal research facility and a hero at some point. But this was ridiculous – I was a traveler from a different time at most right now, which was barely a reason to treat me like a walking miracle. Not a single title I once had was worth an old song anymore.

“You don’t have to address me like that, Delight,” I said, glancing at the pegasus mare. “I was only twenty-four years old. My friends just called me Twilight back then.” With a considerable effort I let a wave of nostalgia pass over me.

“Heh, you are still older than me.” Nevertheless, Clandestine Delight relaxed considerably. “And there is no need to use my full name, nopony does. It’s usually ‘Del’ or ‘Clandie’. Pick the one you like more.”

“I’ll stick with ‘Del’,” I replied after a moment. Remembering from what it all started, I continued. “About your question – they are two fillies from The Edge.”

Upon hearing those words, Del’s brows instantly went up.

“The Edge?” She echoed in disbelief. “I thought most of them hate equinoids’ guts.” The pegasus blinked and stuttered. “Um, I mean… I know that you are actually not an equinoid…“

“I get what you want to say.” I nodded to Delight, dispelling the awkwardness appearing between us once more. “Ironically, it was one of those fillies who made my body and accidentally resurrected me.”

“Ressu-what?”

“Brought me back to life.”

A heavy silence was the answer to my last reply. It was really hard for me to come up with something both of us could talk about freely and casually. I was curious about many things, as usual, but asking Delight how she became a prostitute or how she got those burns would be very insensitive. However, it was Del herself who saved us from that situation.

“What were you planning to do after you meet you friends?” she asked, her head tilted and wings fluttering as she warily glanced around. In the corner of my remaining eye I could see a distant movement in the branching passways. It was equine silhouettes marking the return of the underground dwellers.

“I was going to visit a library or an archive.” I sped up just a little. The empty tunnels weren’t just unsettling, but also filled with ponies that very well might be dangerous. “Somewhere I can learn. I’ve totally missed the last five hundred years.”

“And after that?” That was a good question. Now that I had Spike to save, I couldn’t just go to Stalliongrad. Not that it was concrete plan before; I still had no actual proof of the distant city being a real thing these days. And if it was true, Stalliongrad was very far away – leaving without preparation was a bad idea.

“I don’t really know.” Uncertainly, I added, “maybe try to travel to Stalliongrad eventually.”

“You think it’s real?” Apparently, Del had heard of it and had some doubts as well.

“You don’t?” I glanced at the pegasus mare who had an unreadable expression on her face. I didn’t look forward to her making hay of my hopes.

“There hasn’t been any contact with Stalliongrad in years and nopony who has gone there ever returned,” Delight mused. That didn’t sound very inspiring. “There are only rumors. A lot of them, though. It all started after one of The Former Ones was said to have left to Stalliongrad.”

Now that sounded somewhat good – Del’s words perfectly aligned with Scuff Gear’s story. It still wasn’t solid proof, but as Starswirl always said: “Coincidence is a lazy word for lazy ponies.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“No.” Del shook her head. “It was a while ago, long before I was even born.”

It all was either an urban legend or a very strange story. A supposedly immortal pony left her friend to travel to a very far away place. And she never returned or was heard of again. Even if she wasn’t immortal, it was no average pony. Stalliongrad was either a haven too good to ever leave, or a place so horrible that it was a danger even for those who had managed to evade death for centuries. I needed to learn more before I would try and do it myself while dragging two fillies and possibly a young mare along with me.

As we trotted briskly, we met a passerby, the first one since I descended into the underground. A figure with their whole body concealed in rags, disguising their nature, walked past us, paying us no attention. In the distance I could see equines tentatively peeking out of the shadows, or galloping between the smaller passages. It would be mere minutes before this part of The Tunnels was bustling with life again.

“From what I remember, Stalliongrad has a high chance to still be standing.” I shared my opinion on that matter. To put an end to discussing vague rumors, I continued, “and it’s a better fate to try and travel there than to wait for Canterlot to collapse on itself.”

“True.” Delight was surprisingly quick to agree on that matter. “Many ponies are looking for ways to leave Canterlot these days.”

“ Is that so?”

“Nopony wants to talk or even think about it, but all who live in Canterlot are aware how close we are,” the pegasus mare sorrowfully answered, hanging her head. Her face darkened even more and she added. “There was some hope before, but it was all gone after that winter.”

“What actually happened?” Almost everypony I met mentioned the absurdly cold winter, but I still didn’t actually know anything about it. “I’ve heard two different versions from The Edge ponies. That it was either the Pink Butterflies or some kind of mishap.”

I still had trouble believing what Scuff Gear said about the magic running out. That was not how things worked.

“A part of the magical shield on the south of the city was gone for more than a month. It was cold before, but became outright freezing.” Delight visibly shuddered at those words and hugged herself with her wings. “And I mean deathly freezing. Staying on the streets for more than an hour was dangerous, even for equinoids.”

“But what caused it?”

“We were all told that it was the terrorists who blew up the shield’s spell amplifiers. But we are told many things, you know.” Delight sighed deeply, a thoughtful look visiting her face once again.

“During that time most of the ponies who were visiting brothels were coming not for sex, but just to warm themselves. Not like anypony could get it up in that cold, anyway.” She smirked on that, but her smile was gone with the next phrase. “And we were all too starved to have strength for anything.” After a brief pause she continued. “There was one old stallion who paid for the whole night – that’s a lot of e-bits, mind you. So, we were huddling together under the blanket and he told me something.” The pegasus mare paused again, remembering the story that happened years ago. “He said that the Pink Butterflies may be crazy, but they are not completely brainless. The shield has to be round and because of that it covers Everfree just as well. And the Butterfucks wouldn’t be so stupid as to blow the hole right above them – the rain falls on sinners and saints just the same. Also, why didn’t they do it before? They had centuries at their disposal, and shield amps are not even guarded, unlike the Spire they did blow up.” Del paused letting her words to sink in. “There was no evidence or reason for them to do so. But they are the boogiepony of Canterlot – if something bad happens it’s either the Pink Butterflies or the equinoids, depending on who brings the news, the Crown or the TCE.”

As she was finishing her story, we began to meet more and more ponies and equinoids filling the subterranean paths. To my surprise, the most prominent amongst them were the pegasi. However, they didn’t look very good. Most of them appeared to be either diseased or drug addicts. Sickly looking things with their wingtips dragging on the floor, they walked slowly, slouching against the walls. Other pegasi sported a lot of prosthetics, more than I expected from Tin Flower’s words. There were even ones with metal wings, a sight that was making me uncomfortable.

“So, do you think it was equinoids?” Since Delight’s words implied the innocence of the Pink Butterflies, there was only one option left. After meeting Brass Litany, I had no trouble believing in such a possibility.

“No, they suffered just as much from the cold, even those who hate ponies. And equinoids rarely do anything extreme, no matter how loudly they claim to despise us.” Del shook her head. “That stallion told me that it all happened because of the magic thinning out.”

“Thinning out?” Come on, not her too… Everything could change over centuries, but not the magic, its laws were absolute. “There is no such thing. I was a unicorn, I would know.”

“He was a unicorn too.” The pegasus shrugged. “‘There is a lot of magic stored in gemstones. Maybe too much,’ he told me. I may not know much about the magic myself, but he had a point. The older ponies tell that it was easier to cast spells before. My grandma told me that it was easier to fly and control weather years ago, and it’s not just because she had grown old.”

I had no answer for that. I had never even heard of something like a “thinning” of the magic. Formerly, Canterlot was the unofficial unicorn capital and thus a lot of spells were cast on a daily basis around the city, even including the movement of celestial bodies. But it didn’t make spells any less potent. The same could be said about all the large cities with a lot of magic cast in them. It was just not how magic worked. However, things were very different now. Canterlot was substantially bigger than any settlement from my time. The strain put on the thaumagical field should be unimaginable. I had read all the books about magic I could get my hooves on, and none of them predicted or mentioned something like a possible depleting of the magic in certain locations. It was just another mystery of the modern world to add to the list.

“Um, Twilight, where were you supposed to meet with your friends?” Delight pulled me out of my thoughts with a question. Despite it sounding very simple, it implied an additional meaning: when were we going to get out of these forsaken tunnels already? Neither Delight nor I enjoyed being here at all.

“The south-east Thunderspire.” If the equinoid’s words were to be trusted, I was supposed to be somewhere near the east one. But looking around I failed to see any pointers to the exit or any signs confirming that I had come to the right place. So, I reluctantly admitted, “To be honest, I don’t really know how to get there.”

“I thought you knew The Tunnels, you even wanted to show me the exit.” Del looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Not really, I’ve only learned a little, sorry,” I said apologetically. With Delight not knowing The Tunnels herself, it could quickly become a perilous situation.

“It’s alright, you've only been in Canterlot for mere days, after all.” The pegasus kindheartedly dismissed my words. Then she stopped in one of the deep shadows and began looking around as if searching for something. “Okay, give me a moment.”

I followed Delight’s gaze and saw that she was intently studying the paintings on the walls. Her eye jumped from one cryptic inscription to another. It took about a minute of her squinting at the seemingly unintelligible lettering. Finally, Del poked me in the side and pointed at one of the smaller tunnels not so far away.

“That should be the exit.”

Without an answer I headed towards it. Delight instantly joined me, and together we made a beeline for the narrow duct. While she was looking for any sign, she had drawn the attention of a few local stallions, who were now openly ogling her.

I warily glanced back when we entered the dark corridor. I wasn’t sure I could handle another fight. But, fortunately, nopony was following us. The short path led us to the familiar sight of rusted stairs.

“I thought you didn’t know The Tunnels either,” I commented on Delight‘s pathfinding success. Not that I was ungrateful.

“I don’t know the local parts, I was relocated to the Silken Flute only a few months ago,” Del replied in a sad voice.

Wait. The Silken Flute? Wasn’t that the name of the re-opened brothel from that disgusting advert? What had happened to it?

“But I didn’t spend my whole life in brothels, I lived at one of the Spires when I was a filly. The underground layout was the same there.” She finished explaining and glanced back as we reached the stairs. I mirrored her motion and saw a black silhouette at the beginning of the passage. “Let’s get out of here already, I’m in no mood for any more adventures tonight.”

The stairs leading us skywards were impossibly rusty, much rustier than anything before. The sorrel sloughs were coming off the steps and walls in huge flakes. Most probably it was caused by excessive moisture – every surface was glistening with a layer of dew. Where it came from, however, was another question completely.

Delight, who quickly reached an access cover, was puffing and panting both from ascending the steep staircase and from fruitless attempts to push open the jammed hatch. She obviously wasn’t made for a harsh life. I joined her side and shoved the heavy metal trap door with my shoulder. With an ear splitting creak the door finally gave up and without hesitation we left the vile confines of the subterranean kingdom.

Unsurprisingly, we appeared in a short and narrow dead-end alley stuffed with trash containers. It was a very familiar sight, though a few things were different.

First of all, the street and the space above it were filled with a thick mist. And it seemed the higher it was, the denser the fog was becoming, probably seamlessly blending with the clouds in the sky. Though, that might not be the case, since I was able to clearly observe the Thunderspires from The Edge. No wonder the staircase was so damp, the humidity in the air was reaching its limit.

Delight, not giving me time to thoroughly take in my surroundings, quickly trotted ahead to the main street. I turned back and glanced at the gaping access port. Shouldn’t we close it? I looked back at the pegasus mare, who noticed me not following her and stopped herself. I motioned with my head at the trap door, but Del only shook her head and answered by dismissively waving her hoof. To be honest, I had no desire to interact with the jammed hatch. I didn’t want to risk damaging my fragile hydraulic system. That or break something else. Giving the entrance one last glance, I shrugged and joined Delight.

Delight confidently and jovially walked through the vapor, like it was nothing. Probably a pegasus thing, for me it was like being lost in a huge bowl of milk. The fact that it was still night outside didn’t help in the slightest.

Since I could barely see anything, it was hard for me to tell how wide the street was. But it certainly wasn’t desolate. In the fog I could see equine silhouettes, most of them winged of course. Painting the mist in pastel colors, neon lights were hiding somewhere in its depths. Fortunately, the thoroughfare wasn’t as lively as the last one from my experience. A few ponies passed near me, but I was too focused on not losing Delight to give them more than a momentary glance.

As I followed her, I stumbled a few times, almost tripping over my hooves. She probably caught sight of it and commented over her shoulder.

“The east Spire pegasi are the laziest ones, their nests often fall apart and cover the ground in a mist, like this. Instead of being high in the sky doing their job, they’re high on the zebras’ stuff.”

“So, that’s what it means to be ‘high,’” I silently noted to myself. I was too busy fighting with the remains of pegasi’s cloud building to say something aloud. The way Delight walked through the condensed moisture in the air, like it wasn’t even there, irked me. It acutely reminded me again how Moonie and I tried to create artificial wings only to fail time after time, because there was something more to pegasi than just two more limbs and lots of feathers.

Suddenly, the fog abruptly ended, as if was cut off by a glass wall. I stumbled, barely keeping myself on my hooves. Fortunately, Del stopped me from kissing the pavement with my muzzle. As I raised my only eye to the skies, I was graced by the sight of the east Thunderspire in all its endless glory.

To say that it was tall would be an offense. The gargantuan building dwarfed the highest spires of old Canterlot; it was putting Manehattan’s skyscrapers to shame. For its steeple was not only scraping the firmament, but tearing the heavens asunder.

As if with roots, the tower was digging in the ground with ten wide footings, forming thirty-stories-high arches in between them. The trunk, the main body of the Spire was gradually narrowing to the point where it was as pointed as a needle. Though it was impossible to tell from this far away how sharp it really was at the very top.

So unlike pegasi’s creations, the Spire’s entirety was made from metal. And it wasn’t covered in bloody ulcers of corrosion, no, it was still gleaming, reflecting flashes of constant lighting and moonrays.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that the spoke on top of the Spire tore a hole in the sky. There indeed was an opening in the neverending thunderstorm.. The open space wasn’t wide, but it was enough to let through a few beams of the soft moonlight.

However, those pale shafts were almost lost in a chaos of electricity arcs ceaselessly striking the exterior of the Spire. I expected an unbearable cacophony to be filling the air, but strangely, only a distant muffled booming could be heard. Apparently, a dampening spell was used to keep the city from the fiery roar of the storm.

But how did the Spire function? I glanced over it again, from the top to bottom. Wait… It couldn't be… Where in the world did they get so much arcanium? It was no mistake, the surface of the Spire’s top half bore a trademark sheen of the rare and potent metal. It almost instantly dawned on me how it worked, it couldn’t be a very complex enchantment and construction. It was the sheer size of it which was mind-blowing. I was looking at the biggest lightning rod in Equestria. So simple, yet so overwhelming.

It was an obelisk erected to defy nature, to enrage it. To tame its disastrous fury into a beast of burden. To feed all of Canterlot with the power of its righteous anger. It was so risky and so amazing. Dangerous, yet advantageous. It was something only the pegasi could pull off.

Finally, I was able to tear my eye from the almost unreal visage. I probably spent quite a while staring at the Spire in bewilderment, because Delight was giving me an amused yet proud look, practically saying, “It isn’t something you had back in your days, is it?”

“Ah, feels like back home!” Delight exclaimed turning back to the Thunderspire and taking a deep breath of the ozone-smelling air. “Haven’t visited the Spires in ages. The damn job,” she added, shamelessly stretching herself and cracking her joints.

The pegasus mare already mentioned that she spent her childhood at a Thunderspire. Now that she mentioned it again, it reignited the question I had from the moment I learned about Del’s occupation. How did she, a perfectly healthy mare, end up as a prostitute? It was too straightforward a question to ask when I just met her, and I didn’t have time when we were hurriedly getting out of The Tunnels. Now was the perfect opportunity.

“If you were born at the Spire, why didn’t you stay there?” Was she ineligible to work as a part of a weather team? Or a technician? Or whoever else they needed as part of a Thunderspire personnel? I mean, a prostitute, of all the jobs possible in this huge city...

“I was pretty enough to become a Moth, it wasn’t a chance I was going to miss.” Delight answered, coquettishly smoothing her mane.

“What..?” I was at loss of words. I expected any answer, a story of her being forced under dire circumstances to accept such a fate, but not the fact that Delight chose her job willingly.

The first reaction from Del was her eyebrow trying to migrate to her forehead and an irritated expression trying to overtake her facial features. But it fled her face as soon as she realized that I didn’t mean any disrespect by that, but rather was ignorant of the modern order of things, and an understanding smile took its place.

“Don’t know how it was back in the Princesses’ Age, but these days working at a brothel is the best job one could wish for.” Delight thought for a moment, squinting her eye and pointing her gaze skywards. “At least in the Outer City.”

It didn’t help my confusion, not in the slightest. So I just continued to stare at Delight, failing to comprehend the situation. There had been a lot of things in Canterlot I had trouble understanding, but for most of them I could imagine an explanation. This, however… a mare of pleasure being the most prized job… It was beyond any reasoning.

Del either didn’t notice my lasting confusion, or simply decided to ignore it. Instead she asked me a question absolutely unrelated to our discussion.

“Let’s not make your friends wait. You said they’ll be waiting for you at the south-east Spire, right?”

All I could do was nod in answer. To that, Delight bit her tongue and twirled in place, taking a look at our surroundings. It seemed that being under open skies lifted her spirits considerably, or it could be the closeness to a pegasus neighbourhood that cheered her up.

“There.” She pointed with her wingtip in a general direction on the left and without missing a beat began to trot ahead. I had nothing left but to follow the pegasus mare.

We walked in the shadows of buildings on the edge of a square surrounding the Spire’s foundation. Del moved fast, with a slight spring in her step, so by the time I caught up with the pegasus, we had already dived back into the streets. Now that my bewilderment had passed, I had some questions to ask. But I had to state something first.

“Brothels were prohibited by the Princesses back in my days,” I said, trotting by Del’s side. She had slowed down since we entered a narrow street and kept to shadows, though she didn’t look alerted by any means; her eye still shone with a calm joy.

“That’s funny,” Del chuckled, “the Crown unofficially protects and maintains the brothel network.” Although Delight appeared to be relaxed, her gaze was sharp and she constantly scanned the street. Soon I noticed a pattern in our movements. We were giving a wide berth, if it was possible, to any groups of stallions larger than two.

“Unofficially?” I echoed only word that wasn’t making any sense for me. Considering what I had heard about that new “Crown”, supporting brothels wouldn’t be out of character for them. Why wouldn’t they openly admit it?

“Well, you will never hear the Crown mentioning moths in reports or during appeals to the public. Nor do they answer any direct questions.” Delight shrugged, apparently being in the dark about the reasons behind that as well. “But if anypony tries to attack the brothels or something like that, the Royal Guard will appear. Saw that one time, it was scary. And we had to clean a lot of blood from the walls and windows after that.” She cringed at that, but then continued. “We always got food, no matter what. Those who don’t have a place of their own are given one under a brothel’s roof. And it’s warm, warmer than any other, especially in winter. The old bed sheets, though.” Del shuddered in disgust. “The pay is stable. Not very big, but never delayed either.” Looking at me with a smile, the pegasus finished, “it’s one of the best jobs in Canterlot, as I said.”

In accordance with a longstanding tradition, that explanation resulted in more questions instead of answers. Actually, that wasn’t right. I had got a good answer explaining why somepony would prefer such a job. I had trouble imagining… er, the working process, but the benefits were obvious. Though, I didn’t get the most important answer: “Why would the government do that in such a peculiar not-really-discreet fashion?”

Delight distracted me from digesting the new knowledge with a bit of a surprising question.

“What was the best job in your time?” She asked innocently with genuine curiosity.

I had to think on that. Most of the ponies in old Equestria had jobs corresponding to their cutie marks, thus there wasn’t much of a choice. Nor was there a stark difference in benefits between different jobs. Sure, some salesponies or craftsponies were earning substantially more compared to that of, let’s say, janitors. But it never was an issue to my knowledge.

“All the jobs were good back then.” I finally gave my answer. Realising that it probably wasn’t what Delight wanted to hear, I added, “At least, I never met a pony who didn’t like theirs.”

“Huh.” Del seemed to be pleased with the answer, despite its vagueness. “I don’t think I ever met a pony who didn’t hate theirs,” she joked with a dry laugh; there was no sign of a smile in her eye. “And what was your job?”

“I was a chief scientist during the war. A librarian before that.” Being a protege of the Princess and a Bearer of the Elements didn’t count as jobs, right?

“Which did you like more?” Delight asked, oddly squinting at me.

“Being a librarian.” That answer didn’t take me long to come with.

“And you said that everypony liked their jobs.” Del chided me in a somewhat mocking and disappointed tone, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like being a scientist.” I tried to excuse myself, though I couldn’t deny that Delight had a point.

“It was part of my job to read emotions, Twilight. It’ll be hard to fool me, even if I have to judge you mostly by your voice,” Delight said with a smug, yet soft smile. I felt like it was an appropriate time to ask her the same question.

“Did you like your job?” I hoped that it wouldn’t incite a negative reaction from Delight. She didn’t seem to be uncomfortable talking about it before.

“Kinda. The benefits outweighed the downsides.” Her face darkened for a moment, but brightened again almost instantly. “The fear of becoming a red splat on a wall courtesy of the Royal Guard had its influence on patrons. And as I said, not all ponies came by only for sex, some just sought some comfort and compassion.”

I could only shake my head at that. If I didn’t know better, I would say that I was in a world ruled by Discord, for everything seemed to be put upside down.

“I barely understand how anypony can live here,” I muttered, still shaking my metal skull in disbelief.

Del just shrugged. Now that she had recovered from our misadventures in the Tunnels, she was way too happy for somepony living in a nightmare. Despite all the trouble Delight had been through, she was easygoing, but in a good way, unlike Nebula. Obviously, she had been hurt more than once during her relatively short life, but it didn’t stop her from being kind. Maybe the future wasn’t as bad as I thought, for as long there were ponies like Clandestine Delight, there was hope.

“It’s not that bad, really,” she elaborated, probably deciding that a simple gesture wouldn’t suffice as an answer for me. “Well, it was better before that winter. I wouldn’t have been kicked out of the brothel if not for that.” Her face became contorted in a scowl on saying that.

“How so?” I could barely see any connection.

“It was very devastating and scared the crap out of everypony in Canterlot. The screws began to tighten afterward.” Delight let a deep sigh escape her lips. “Retired or injured moths were usually kept as serviceponies. But lately brothels keep only a skeleton staff. So, they nullified my Moth ID and threw me out to the streets after I got those burns.” Bitterly, she added, “I’m sure that ten years ago they could have given me surgery.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” That was quite an unfortunate combination of circumstances.

“It’s not their fault.” If before Delight’s face was expressing just displeasure, now her eye burned with anger. “It’s all on the TCE.”

“The TCE?” That was an even less obvious relation, one that left me with no guess. “What do they have to do with all of this?”

“They started to blow up brothels one by one in the last few years. The Silken Flute was one of them. It was made to look like the Pink Butterfucks’ job, but everypony knows better.” Her scorn was abating, giving place to chagrin.

And now the Silken Flute was opening its doors again.

“But why would they do that?”

“The TCE tried for years to make their own brothel network, but with equinoids instead of ponies.” That wasn’t really a bad idea on one hoof and absolutely horrible on another. Actually, it wasn’t a good idea, no matter how you sliced it. Unless equinoids would willingly choose to work in said brothels, overwise it would be even worse than the current situation. But as it appeared to me, despite being as sentient as ponies, they were considered property. I already wasn’t very happy to learn that such practice as prostitution had returned to Equestria, though it seemed to be a voluntary thing. Creating artificial ponies who would spend their eternal lives as sex slaves would be vile beyond comprehension. Oblivious to my thoughts, Delight went on with her explanation. “The Crown was always persecuting any attempts at that. But recently the TCE has got much more influence in Canterlot, and they’re beginning to press on the Crown.” An expression of wrath twisted her kind face again, as she said the next phrase. “The TCE pays drug fiends from The Tunnels to blow up buildings near brothels, so it won’t look like a direct attack.” The flame was snuffed from her eye, replaced by hollowness. “If not for that, I would be a goner for sure.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t survive an explosion.” I wasn’t sure if it was actually true or even the most appropriate thing to say at the moment. Delight’s life wasn’t all cupcakes and muffins, but it seemed better than mine, especially right now.

“Ouch.” The pegasus mare gave me a mirthless sympathetic glance and said no more.

For a while we traversed a maze of Canterlot streets in relative silence. The city around us lived and breathed, indifferent to our journey. The paths chosen by Delight weren’t very crowded, nor were they some kind of creepy back alleys either. She moved nimbly, yet in an inconspicuous way that wasn’t drawing any unwanted attention. Del took turn after turn without any hesitation, navigating the stone and metal web Canterlot had become. So far, Delight’s offer was one of the most fortunate things that had happened to me. Without her it would had taken me hours to cover that much ground, if I managed not to get lost or get in trouble in the first place. I could only wonder at Del’s navigation skills, it was something that could be acquired only by being born in this labyrinth.

Despite putting reunion with Tin Flower and Red Wire as my top priority, I deliberately avoided thinking about it any further. Countless questions concerning their fate swarmed my mind. Most of them began with “what if…” and none of them made me feel any better. I tired to divert my thoughts to something else, but it was incredibly hard to think of anything even remotely positive. Spike? Alone and suffering deep down below. Clandestine Delight? A victim of the vile city, her life broken and dreams stomped. Canterlot itself? Neither Nightmare Moon nor Discord even came close to that level of wrongdoing.

However, I caught a glimpse of something really important in the cauldron of my bubbling mind. It was a little detail I didn’t properly consider before, but it didn’t make it any less crucial. We were to meet at the south-east Thunderspire, but… where exactly? It wasn’t just a remark from my perfectionism, it was an actual issue. The Spires, judging by the east one, were huge and surrounded by quite a wide area.

“Del, do you know any places near the Thunderspire which could serve as a meeting place?” I asked the pegasus mare who seemed to be humming some melody to herself. ”Like the main entrance?”

“The main entrance is a bad idea, it’s guarded pretty heavily.” Delight shook her head in disapproval. “Loitering around it is an invitation for a hoof to kick our asses. Or your friends’.” Raising her eyebrow she asked skeptically, “Didn’t you discuss where you agreed to meet?”

“There wasn’t any agreement,” I said in hollow voice, to Delight’s further confusion. I forced myself to continue. “We planned to go to the city together, to a place near the south-east Spire. But then things got hectic and we got separated. I… I’m not even sure they will come,” I said, almost choking.

Delight gave me a very sympathetic glance and moved a bit closer to my side, almost brushing against me. It was a little thing, but it did help. However, Delight didn’t intent to settle for only that.

“I think the best call will be to try and intercept your friends at the sole exit from The Edge in this area. I have been there a few times, you can’t miss a pony coming out of it.” With a smile she added, “and it’s even on our way.”

“Thank you so much, Del.” Her kindness was like a glass of water in the middle of a scorching desert. Either I was overdramatizing how horrible ponies had become, and there actually were enough decent ponies in Canterlot, or I was just incredibly lucky.

“Don’t mention it.”

We spent the next fifteen minutes or so just wordlessly trotting through narrow and short streets until we came to a big and wide thoroughfare. It looked like the one where I emerged from the underground for the first time. I was already preparing to fight my way to the other side of the street, but thankfully it wasn’t needed – Delight simply turned left and I followed. It took us another five minutes of walking, and we arrived at a little square formed by tall, looming buildings. It was like a bigger version of the entrances I encountered before, a dead end with a hatch and garbage cans. However, this wasn’t so much an access door, but more of a hole torn in the ground. Occasionally, ponies and equinoids would dive into the darkness or appear from it and join those who stood around. Those ponies most likely were traders or something like that, because they constantly exchanged items with newcomers. The only thing they seemed to have was metal scrap. Rusty or gleaming, twisted or undamaged, it was filling crates, which stood in the place where I expected trash containers to be. Some ponies just waited, crowding together near burning barrels, warming themselves or quietly chatting.

There were no fillies amongst them.

Apparently, Delight noticed it as well and gave me a concerned look. I looked at her, trying to keep a neutral expression. She silently motioned with her head to a vacant place near the edge of the little square on the corner of one of the buildings. We walked towards it and I sat on cold pavement. After dusting the ground with her tail, Delight joined me. From our position I could see both the entrance and the huge wall dividing Canterlot from its industrial zone. I craned my neck around the corner and through an entwinement of cables and girders I saw the unnatural thickness of a storm surrounding the south-east Spire. We were close to it indeed.

There couldn’t be a better position to wait for somepony coming out of that tunnel, if it really was the only exit leading out from The Junkyard. Considering my experience with The Tunnels and Nebula’s sector, I had my doubts about that. Flower and Wire could easily walk under the Spire and exit on the other side of it, if I understood the underground layout right. But Delight lived in Canterlot for years and seemed to know the city pretty well, so I trusted her judgement. However, all that didn’t exclude the chance that the fillies could have already left The Tunnels and our waiting there was an exercise in futility.

Time stretched by, and with every pony or equinoid coming out of the gaping void, my fear was only gaining strength. Of course, we had been there only for twenty minutes, at most, and it would be foolish to expect Flower and Wire the moment we arrived. There was another explanation why the girls weren’t coming, but I fought with my mind as hard as I could to block that thought. I was winning for now.

More time passed, more than the last time I made such an observation. I glanced at Delight out of the corner of my eye. She didn’t appear to mind the prolonged waiting at all. She sat a bit slumped, but her eye moved incessantly, scanning our surroundings and checking all the equines close to us. Like Cerberus, I guarded the gates to Tartarus under Canterlot, and she guarded me.

It was very kind of her, and I had a feeling Delight was doing that not only because she thought she owed me, but because her kind nature compelled her to look out for me. But it couldn’t go on forever. My festering fear finally bore fruit in the form of words.

“Delight,” I said, trying not to sound desperate, “what if they already came to the surface and are waiting for me somewhere near the Spire?”

I had no doubt that Delight sensed apprehension in my voice, though it probably wasn’t obvious to anypony without her skills.

“Have any of them been to the city before?” she asked me back in a calm voice. Even if Del sensed my growing distress, she did everything she could to not follow suit.

“Yes, Tin Flower said that she got my gems somewhere in Canterlot,” I replied, wondering if it really made a difference.

“Then she is bound to know that this square” –Del made a motion with her wing– ”is the safest place to stay for Edge ponies. It’s considered a neutral patch even by police, since they buy the old metal occasionally.” Seeing that her explanation wasn’t completely reassuring, she added, “But we can go and check in the Spire’s vicinity if you want.”

I shook my head. I believed that both Flower and Wire were sensible enough to come to the same conclusion as Delight, to make this place an impromptu meeting point. Going to look for them now felt like giving up.

Del gave me a short condolent glance, and we both returned to out silent vigil.

The silence hung in the air between us, not awkwardly like before, but ominously instead. Eventually it began to affect Delight as well as me, getting on her nerves, making the pegasus mare fidget uncomfortably.

“You know,” she suddenly said, “I also have a hard time imagining how it was back in your time. I almost don’t know anything about it either. I know that there was The Great War, the Princesses and practically no technology.”

“Don’t they teach history in schools?” I wouldn’t be surprised if she answered no, or even if she would say that there were no schools anymore.

“Not really,” Delight answered somewhat sadly. “Good teachers taught us how to survive, bad ones just let us go home all the time and went out drinking themselves to death.”

“That’s horrible.” I was kind of glad to know that the educational system still existed in Canterlot, at least in the city itself – The Edge seemed to be absolved of such a luxury. But the way it worked was disappointing at best. From all general subjects, history was, if not the most important, certainly an absolutely necessary one. For those who didn’t know it were bound to repeat it, as the saying went. Though, I couldn’t remember Equestria being that bad at any point in time.

“It’s practically impossible to get to the Inner City, and those who try and actually learn things usually end up as teachers. Of the second kind.” Delight tried to explain to me, which, of course, gave birth to more questions. “And no education is needed to work in the Outer City.” She scowled and grimly added, “Or the Edge.”

So, there was a clear segregation between two parts of the city, which was caused not by the merit of the citizens, but most probably by their wealth. I knew absolutely nothing of the Inner City, but I was almost absolutely sure that was how things were. We were in a dystopic version of Equestria, and the Inner City being elite residential areas restricted only to the wealthy was perfectly fitting the rotten rhythm of decadence.

Delight seemed to be very inclined to distract me from the dark thoughts. And maybe herself too.

“So, The Great War probably was very bad, and having almost no technology ought to suck as well.” Saying that the war with Sombra was bad was to say nothing, even of what I had seen. Nor could I agree on the second part either – we were perfectly content without advanced technologies. However, Del wasn’t finished. “But how was it living in the same world with the Goddesses? How were they?”

It was a question I should have expected. It was the age of no Princesses, after all.

How did one describe the living Goddesses? Were there even words that could match their perfection? Did I even have the right to pass their magnificence through generations to the world where they were absent for so long that they were forgotten?

I looked to the heavens for my answer. There, beyond the Edge, far beyond the mangled soil of the Toxic Dump, the sunrise had begun. Through the gap in the distant clouds, grossly incandescent rays of Her Sun effortlessly and mercilessly sliced the gloom of the night’s veil. The fiery orb barely rose above the crest of the concrete monolith dividing one nightmare from another. But it was enough to set the stone ablaze, to paint a large patch of the sky in a shining gold. The warmth of Her Sun couldn’t reach me, but I felt it anyway. I always would.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

Delight wasn’t looking at the dawn. She was looking at me, in a wonder and slight envy.

I was no longer looking at the dawn. I wasn’t looking at Clandestine Delight, either.

I was looking at the dirty filly with a metal leg who was glancing around nervously.

That filly was alone.

A feeling of immense relief, probably the strongest I ever felt in my life was coursing through my figurative veins as I rushed to Tin Flower like she was going to disappear into thin air if I didn’t grab her and hold tight.

Either she was too distracted or I moved so fast, but the filly noticed me only when I all but crashed into her. Tin Flower gave a frightened yelp, drawing the attention of nearest ponies, but soon it was replaced by muffled choking sounds as I hugged her. Fortunately I caught myself before it could become accompanied by a crackling of crushed ribs as well.

“A friend, eh?” chuckled Delight, who caught up while I was smothering Tin Flower. Was it just me or, despite the smile on her face, was her eye filled with envy and sorrow?

Tin Flower escaped my tight embrace and sat in front of me, giving me a critical look. I glanced over her as well and was glad to conclude that she didn’t look injured, just dirtier which was a notable feat considering how grimy she was the last time I saw her. Though, it was apparent that the filly was suffering from a severe lack of sleep: I could see bags under her eyes even though they had pitch black hair around them.

“We haven’t seen each other for a day and you’ve already got some shitty upgrades and broken half of what I installed,” Flower finally said with a barely contained smile, mirth dancing in her tired eyes.

But I was dead serious.

“Flower, where is Wire?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Tin Flower wouldn’t act so casually and joke around if something very bad had happened to her friend. But Wire wasn’t here anyway, and I was concerned.

“Oh, she didn’t make it,” Flower replied nonchalantly.

I froze in place, and though I could see it only in the corner of my eye, Delight became paralyzed as well. It took a few moments for Tin Flower to realize what she just said and her eyes widened.

“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!” The little filly tried to explain, frantically waving her hooves. Del loudly exhaled, but I wasn’t so fast to relax. “She is alive, but she couldn’t come with me.”

Before I could ask her any more questions, because she sure had a story to tell, Flower was shoved to the side by a large stallion. A moment later he bumped into me as well. It wasn’t a hard thrust, and the stallion didn’t even glance at me or Tin Flower. It wasn’t something personal, we just stood where we actually shouldn’t have been. We were standing not only in his way, but in the way of many others, right before the entrance.

All of us understood it perfectly and I motioned with my head to the place where Clandestine and I had waited for Tin Flower. As soon we sat down I turned to the filly, still concerned with Wire’s fate.

“Flower, what happened after I went to that tunnel? Did Mercury catch you? Is Red Wire alright?” I unleashed a barrage of not so much questions, but demands.

Tin Flower yawned widely, thought for a moment, tapping her chin, nodded to herself and began telling her story.

“After you was gone, Wire and I argued a little and we decided to follow you. Then we saw through the door Mercury who finally went completely nuts, and you running away. But we couldn’t follow, it was too hot...”

“Wait, ‘finally’?” I interrupted Flower, for I couldn’t believe my ears. “You knew she was psychotic all along?”

“Yeah, it was obvious even before she got her wings torn off.” I could see Del visibly wince by my side. “But she was always on our side.” Flower paused momentarily. “Kinda.” Noticing my and Del’s incredulous looks she explained. “I mean, half the ponies in The Edge are batty in the brain. It’s better to be friends with them.” It was my turn to wince.

“So, we knew that eventually Mercury would go after us,” unfazed, Tin Flower continued, “but not immediately, cos shit hit the fan, she wasn’t the only pony who wanted to get rid of Grime’s fat ass. Methinks she’s still dealing with Furnace #3, they planned to take control even before Orange Swine came.” She licked her lips and went on with the story. “I could go to Canterlot straight away, but Wire wasn’t going leave her folks. I mean, duh.” The filly rolled her eyes. “And that was also the perfect time for them to migrate to the other sector. Hollow Druse was pulling strings with the zebras in Nebula’s sector for a while for that to happen.”

I heard a loud commotion somewhere to the side. All three of us turned our heads simultaneously and saw some kind of a fight. Two ponies, a scrawny, bald mare and a stallion with a lot of rusty, beat-up prosthetics were fighting over a spare part. The problem was that those two tramps were quite close to us, and each push and shove they were giving each other was bringing their brawl even closer. I glanced to the sides, hoping to find a quiet place, but Delight was already at it and motined with the wing for Flower and I to follow her to a small alcove in a wall nearby, occupied with nothing but some small rubbish.

We nestled there and Tin Flower continued her tale.

“Wire’s folks didn’t have a lot of stuff, but since miss Dust is blind, I decided to lend a helping hoof, at least until we reached the border. From there I went to Canterlot and Wire stayed with her family.” When did Flower sleep last? I didn’t need any sleep, it seemed, but she was not only a pony, but a rather young one. And, needless to say, I was happy to know that Wire and her family were unharmed and relatively safe.

“Druse gave me a token, so the ID maker will help us. Though, she said there’s no point in giving any directions, that stallion doesn’t stay in one place for long, but he should be somewhere near the Thunderspire.” Tin Flower finished her story with a shrug followed by another yawn.

“Are you talking about Segfault?” Delight chipped in the conversation, speaking for the first time in a while.

“Yeah, that’s his name.” The filly nodded absentmindedly. “Do you know him? And who are you by the way?” She squinted at the pegasus mare suspiciously.

It wasn’t very good of me not to introduce them to each other, but in my defense, there wasn’t a fitting opening for that. It wasn’t too late, however.

“I met Clandestine Delight in The Tunnels.” I motioned my hoof in the pegasus mare’s direction. ”Delight.” I motioned with another at the filly, “Tin Flower.”

I never paid much attention to Rarity’s etiquette lessons until I had to take a position in the government as an Equestrian representative. To my surprise a proper introduction could do wonders.

“Nice to meet you, Flower.” Delight smiled at the filly. “And no, I don’t know Segfault personally, but I might know where to find him.”

Delight and Flower looked each other in the eyes, just a mere moment longer than it should have lasted. It was an odd look. Respect? Familiarity? Rivalry? I couldn’t tell.

“Cool!” Flower exclaimed, like nothing happened. Then she did a double take at Del’s face. “Wait, is that a Moth’s mark?” The filly’s eyes lit up. “I have so many questions to ask!”

Oh, no, you don’t! I didn’t know how much of adult things Flower already knew, but probably more than she was supposed to. I wasn’t intent on allowing Delight teach her more, especially considering how vast Del’s knowledge probably was.

And Delight was already smugly smiling. The situation could begin to spiral out of my control at any moment.

”We now have a pony to find and I am still illegal.” I said firmly putting myself between Flower and Del.

“Alright, alright, I’m not going to teach your friend the birds and the bees.” The pegasus raised her hooves in the air defensively, accompanying that motion with a roll of her eyes. Under her breath she added, “Not while you are around, at least.”

I snapped my head at her. It seemed an untimely expansion of Flower’s knowledge was inevitable. I hoped that Del would at least have the decency not to teach the filly too much.

The mellow pegasus mare shrinked slightly under my icy glare and tried to switch the conversation to another topic.

“I know a mare who owns a rathole she calls an eatery. Morsel works with Segfault, so she always knows where to find him.” Pointing with her primaries in the direction we came from, Delight added. “She owes me one, and her eatery is just on the other side of the Spire.”

“What are we waiting for?” Flower exclaimed, ignorant to my attempts to defend the vestiges of her innocence. “Let’s go!”

I glanced at Delight and she only motioned with her wing to follow. I mirrored the motion with my head to Tin Flower.

As we huddled together, I noted how Del deliberately chose to walk on my right, trusting me with her blind side. Flower, in turn, walked by my left, as if to protect my own blind side. All of us trotted at a measured pace for barely a minute before the filly spoke.

“So, Twilight, what happened to you after you went into that tunnel?” She asked. Delight gave me a curious glance as well, interested to learn what happened to me right before I met her.

I smirked. Tin Flower was going to love that story.

“...And then we waited for you and Wire to come.” I finished telling Flower about the events of my first night in Equestria.

We already passed the Spire, where we stopped for a couple of minutes to let the Edge-born filly revel in the glory of the grand contraption. During the day it was an even more peculiar sight. Its surroundings were shrouded in deep shadows cast by the dense, almost charcoal-black thunderstorm, while the top of the Spire was glowing in the rays of Her Sun so brightly that it looked like it was going to melt down.

Our company was drawing more glances than I considered comfortable, but it was only logical. A beautiful, even if a bit ragged, pegasus mare; an incredibly dirty filly; a half-demolished custom equinoid. Even with all the variety of different ponies on the streets, we still stuck out like a molting feather.

Both Del and Flower listened to my story with an acute interest. So now I was expecting questions. The filly was first to that.

“Whoah. Was you really friends with a dragon?” Flower asked looking at me with wide eyes. “Neat!”

Delight reacted to the reminder of that particular part of the night with a slight shudder. Spike inadvertently scared the wits out of her, after all.

“You… could say so,” I chuckled with a tinge of sadness.

“Damn, I shouldn’t have left you by yourself there.” Flower shook her head with a serious and even guilty expression. “Shouldn’t have let you help Mercury in the first place.” But then she brightened a little. “Though, I never heard of that tunnel before. And yeah, methinks I’ve seen Brass Litany, at nights. I even wondered back then who was stealing the best equinoid spare parts from where I left them to take later.”

I prepared to stop the filly from blaming herself, after all I had a choice, and Flower couldn’t predict how events would turn out. But Delight suddenly halted before the glass door of a small eating joint.

The glass panels in that door, and the windows by that extent, were cracked, every single of them. And where the glasswork wasn’t covered in a web of cracks it was dirty to the point where “transparent” wasn’t something that could be said about it.

Delight didn’t enter the eatery straight away. She let out a deep sigh and scowled, then closed her eyes and just as deeply breathed in. And only then she opened the door, bearing the fakest smile I ever saw.

Inside, the bistro looked absolutely disgusting. The floor was so dirty that I couldn’t tell its color. The same could be said about most of the furniture… and even the ceiling. Obviously, the concept of cleaning was absolutely alien to this place. Patrons who sat at the tables perfectly fit the filth surrounding them. Most looked like homeless ponies, and I even had serious doubts that all them were alive. They weren’t the only visitors dining in this beastliness; flies and roaches held a feast, undisturbed as if it was their right. Under tables and in corners I could see little shadows scuttling and glimpses of hairless tails reflecting the dim light of soot covered lamps. Opaque tobacco smoke hung in the air, actually obscuring sight. And the smell, Goddesses, the smell...

Behind an elevated counter, a mare sat, who seemed to be an empress of this realm of filth, or rightfully deserving to be one. She wasn’t young, or at least, didn’t appear to be a young pony. She wore a stained apron of a color that can be described only as “vomit”. Her mane was so greasy and tangled that I expected drops of fat to fall from it any moment. Her pale eyes were glued to us, or rather, Delight as soon as we came inside. I had no doubts that the epitome of unsanitariness behind the counter was none other than Morsel.

“Heeeey, Delight, haven’t seen you in ages!” She croaked in a sandpaper voice, spitting over her shoulder. “How’s the job, still giving the best wingjobs in Canterlot?”

I winced at that. Flower looked at me questioningly, tilting her head. Delight didn’t flinch, her face was a perfect mask of faux politeness.

“Ha-ha, Morsel,” she replied without a hint of humor in her voice, “does your greasy spoon still give your patrons loose bowels every time they eat here?”

A few of the said visitors, who still showed signs of life, slowed munching on the questionable contents of their bowls, but didn’t completely stop.

“Of course it does, that’s what makes it so good.” Morsel laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit sending chunks of phlegm flying everywhere. “Ain’t it right, lads?” It didn’t incite any reply, nor did it stop the customers from potentially poisoning themselves. “Anyway, did you come here for a pleasant conversation or a tasty meal?”

“Thanks, but no, thanks. I’ll pass on both. How’s Segfault faring?” It was obvious that Delight would prefer to be anywhere but there. Her faked politeness and obviously a tremendous self-control were all that kept this situation from escalating into a vicious and fruitless verbal fight. I had to to thank Del later for that. “Still not dead from your cookery?” She asked in a syrupy voice.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Of course he is not. Just because one mare got sick once from my food doesn’t mean that everything I cook is rat poison.” Oh. That explained a lot. What had possessed Delight to even come here in the first place? “Why do you ask, wanna suck his cock?”

I winced again. If I had known, I would have insisted on finding any other way to locate Segfault, even if it took us ten times more time and effort.

“Isn’t that your job?” The reply came was instant and cut through the polluted air sharply.

In a moment the whole eatery froze. The only thing that moved were ponies’ eyes, all watched as Delight and Morsel were locked in a staring contest.

Delight was still smiling widely, but I could see cracks in her mask. The pegasus looked like she was going to throw up, and her right eye twitched slightly. I couldn’t blame her, the stench was unbearable, and the situation was anything but pleasant. Even Tin Flower resorted to breathing through a rag, and she was accustomed to work with Scuff Gear.

Morsel’s face was a mask of a mocking politeness before, but as she stared back at Delight, it gave a jerk and in a moment was deformed into a furious scowl.

“Segfault is at southeast 234th street, 18, and will be there until tomorrow night!” Morsel snarled at the pegasus mare. “Now get the fuck out!” she screeched. Delight didn’t need to be told that twice. The mare behind the counter continued to yell at our back as we hastily exited that disgusting place. “And don’t ever bother to come back, damn whore!”

However, before closing the door, Delight decided to have the last word.

“Bon appetit ponies, hope you have nothing planned for the next few weeks. Or the rest of your lives,” she loudly proclaimed to the patrons.

Delight had to dash out of the food joint, because her announcement was met with not only an enraged howl from Morsel but also a cooking pot thrown after her.

The saucepan smashed against the closed door, adding a few fresh cracks and painting the inside of it in what looked like a yellowish slime with dark lumps in it.

Tin Flower and I stood absolutely speechless while Delight was taking deep breaths of fresh air, fanning herself with her wings.

Finally, after a whole minute of silence, I came up with a comment.

“That was… very unlike you, Delight.”

“Twilight, after the first and last time I unknowingly ate the food from there, I was vomiting for two weeks straight,” the pegasus answered in a bitter and haunted tone.

Why wasn’t I surprised? Delight was lucky to survive, in my opinion. But at least we got what we came for, so now we could leave it all behind and never talk of that horrid place ever again. Or so I thought, because Tin Flower had other plans.

“Um, Delight, what’s a ‘wingjob’?”

None of us dropped a single word as we made our way to Segfault. Delight obviously wasn't in a very good mood, and she also had to concentrate of finding a path where we wouldn’t draw the attention of the wrong ponies. Tin Flower was yawning every few minutes. I offered her a ride on my back, but the filly declined it, explaining that she should be awake if we got in trouble. I tried to think of my plans after we make a fake ID, but my attention was diverted by preventing Flower from tripping over her hooves.

It didn’t take us long to reach Segfault’s place, or rather an apartment building where he resided. It was an average-looking, tower-like edifice with no signs telling that somewhere inside was a pony providing very specific and undoubtedly illegal services. If Segfault wasn’t an equinoid, of course.

I wondered aloud how Delight would know in which particular apartment the ID forging master was, and she explained me that he had a few hideouts. Segfault rotated between them randomly, so even if Delight knew all of them, she needed to also know in which one he was at the given moment.

We used a cramped and dirty elevator to rise to the top floors. At the end of a long, barely lit corridor was a door without a number. Not bothering to knock, Delight boldly entered the door.

We came into a dark room, illuminated only by the light coming from a large screen. In front of that screen a huge spider sat, furiously typing on a keyboard. I had to suppress a shriek. But as I stared at that creature, I realised that in fact it was a pony. And since there were nopony else besides him and us in that room, it had to be none other than Segfault.

The first thing that was impossible to miss, and that made me think he was a spider, was a dozen thin metal “arms” protruding from a hole on the back of the stallion’s clothing. Those artificial limbs had an uncanny resemblance to insects’ legs, they even moved in the same creepy way. Segfault used them to type at an incredible speed, while sitting still, staring at the numbers on the display in front of him.

After a thorough look I noticed that Segfault had wires coming out of the back of his skull and leading straight to the device with a glowing screen in front of him. Actually, it looked like several screens of a few devices put together.

In the darkness it was impossible to say what color Segfault’s mane and coat were, except that they were probably dark, not outstanding colors. The stallion didn’t appear to be very tall, but again, with the way he hunched, I couldn’t really tell. Segfault wasn’t a pegasus, that was certain, nor could I see a horn poking from his head.

Segfault seemed to either not notice us, or simply ignore us for a whole minute, while we just stood awkwardly waiting for him to pay us any attention. Finally, he sighed and turned his head to us, locks of his greasy long mane falling like a waterfall around a cracked horn on a visor in the place where his eyes should be.

“A former prostitute, a shitty custom equinoid and The Edge scum. Is this the beginning of a joke, or I am missing something?” Segfault said in a voice of pony who spoke for the first time in weeks.

Delight didn’t react in any way, but Tin Flower took a step forward.

“I’ve come for a fake ID.” She proclaimed with an indignation burning in her eyes.

Segfault sighed again and turned the rest of his body to face us.

“Do I look like somepony who does a fucking charity?” Each word was punctuated by a pause and was spoken in an annoyed and tired tone.

“I have a token from my friend’s sister,” said Tin Flower, not giving up.

“And I have a gun from my friend’s brother’s friend,” the stallion retorted in a mocking tone. “It’s magical, I’ll point it at you and you will turn 180^o and never bother me again.”

This meeting was beginning to move in the wrong direction. I took a single step towards Segfault, but before I came up with anything to say, Tin Flower protruded a metal chip from the rags serving as her clothing and threw it to the stallion.

Segfault caught it with one of his mechanical arms and moved the token close to his visor. The stump that was left of his horn sizzled like a humid firework with a few sparks and the small metal trinket glowed in response, lighting up his face and revealing a web of scars converging on where his eyes once were.

“You ain’t lying, huh,” said Segfault in voice no longer hostile. “Hollow Druse, wasn’t it? Best enchanter I ever met outside Noxiae...” His brows furrowed above a frame of the visor. “Why didn’t she come personally, though?”

“She and her family are busy at The Edge right now,” Tin Flower began to explain, “there was…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Segfault interrupted her with a wave of his hoof, “already heard about that shit.” He threw Druse’s token back to Flower. “So, you need an ID. What kind?”

That was my cue.

“One that will give me no trouble with the police.”

“Bwahaha.” Segfault guffawed, his “spider” arms rattling as his body shook from laughter. “You are funny.” He shook his head, looking at me. “There is no ID in all of Canterlot that will do that for you. You couldn’t possibly look more custom made and… when the fuck were your gems last cleared, hundred years ago?”

“Five hundred to be exact.”

Segfault gave me a long look, probably expecting one of us to crack a smile or just say it was a joke, but none of that happened.

“Aight. I’m not gonna ask you any questions,” he concluded in a careful tone with a nod and turned back to the screen. He began to type something, and after a moment his croaking voice joined the rustle of metal limbs. “I’ll forge you a universal equinoid ID, but it’s no use until you get a stock frame, model doesn’t matter. And even then any unicorn in the police is going to sense your magic noise. Keep to The Tunnels where your kind belongs and you will be as fine as you can be.”

After a minute of silence it was evident that Segfault had nothing else to say, but had work to do.

“So what are we going to do after that?” Tin Flower asked in a quiet voice. She looked like if she didn't keep talking or moving she might fall asleep.

“I’m a bit hungry,” came Delight’s reply, accompanied by a rumble of her stomach, which sounded louder than her voice. Looking slightly embarrassed, she continued, “I know a place not far away where they serve something that isn’t toxic sludge.”

“I have some mushrooms with me.” Tin Flower enthusiastically said and pulled a bundle from somewhere inside her clothing. It was squished and reeked of mold so strongly that even Segfault paused in his work and half-turned his head glancing at us with a raised eyebrow.

“Eww…” Delight instantly recoiled and took a step back from Flower as if the filly had pulled a snake from her rags.

Tin Flower merely shrugged, and the bundle disappeared in the folds of her improvised attire without a trace. Nonchalantly she commented, “Strange to hear that from somepony who was earning money by eating coc…”

The filly’s eyes widened as Delight dashed to her and mockingly tried to strangle Flower with the wings. They both smiled and giggled, prompting another look from Segfault, though it was somewhat amused.

I waited until their little feigned fight wound down.

“We need to go to library or something like that, I need to get as much information on history as possible.” I reminded Flower and Delight of my initial plan. Flower opened her mouth to say something, but was rudely interrupted.

“Name!” Barked Segfault not even turning in our direction.

“Huh?” I blinked - on the inside. I needed to ask Flower to fix my eyes as soon as possible.

“What is going to be your name, stones-for-brains?” The stallion elaborated in a harsh tone.

“Twilight Sparkle.” I said on reflex and instantly regretted it. It would be better to hide my name for now, just in case. But it seemed that it was too late to change, from a distance I saw it already being typed down.

“Really?” Segfault turned his head to glance at me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when equinoids laugh at that. You need something, like, I dunno, Adamant Smash.” Wait, what? “And you will find what you seek at the Royal Archives.”

I had been there before on countless occasions, they were adjacent to the Royal Library after all. Any recorded information in Equestria could be found in those ancient vaults of knowledge. But there was one problem...

“Aren’t they supposed to be in the Sky Palace?” Assuming that the tower in the centre of Canterlot was build on a place of the old palace, the Archives had to be somewhere inside it.

“Of course not! The Crown doesn’t need that old shit.” Segfault scoffed. “Southeast 56th street, a big old building.” Blindly pointing over his shoulder in our general direction he added. “Your feathered friend should know how to get there.”

It was very kind of him to just tell us that. At least now we knew where to head next. And I hoped that the modern Royal Archives were as good and complete as those from my time.

“I think we all need to go back to Wire instead,” Tin Flower suddenly said.

“But why?” Red Wire was safe as I understood and didn’t really need our help. I knew that Canterlot wasn’t going to crumble tomorrow, but I still didn’t want to waste time if it was possible. And I still needed to find out what happened to Spike. I didn’t want him to suffer a day longer.

“You won’t be able to learn history there, but the zebras in Nebula’s sector pay money for a job well done, and we can save some to buy you a new body.” That sounded reasonable to some extent. And it was true, neither Nebula nor the zebras minded equinoids. “Or, I can make one, if I get blueprints. But I can’t do it here, anyway.”

“I don’t think going to The Edge is that good an idea,” commented Delight with a sour face. “Frankly, it sucks.”

“You're a fine one to talk,” retorted Flower with a smug grin.

Delight nimbly leapt over her and encased the filly’s head in a feathery embrace of wings, tickling Flower’s muzzle. This time the pegasus held Tin Flower firmly in her forelimbs, preventing another feigned fight. That allowed Del to suggest her idea.

“I have some contacts across the city, both in The Tunnels and on the surface. I’m not eager to go back underground, but it will be faster than saving money while making drugs.” She paused for a moment, letting Flower finally escape from the feather trap. Delight didn’t smile, however. Her face grew dead serious. “And the thing is, the Archives are very close to the Inner City. Police there aren’t as lousy as on the outskirts. It’s risky to go there in your state, Twilight.”

“Delight has a fair point, though.” Flower again joined the conversation, spitting feathers. “Her option probably would be much faster. And she is totally right, it’s rather risky to walk around like that. I don’t want to lose you again. I’m not supposed to be in the city either, it’s illegal to leave The Edge.”

A sudden idea visited my mind. I turned to Segfault.

“Could you make an ID for Tin Flower too?” I asked him, hoping that this could also be a part of his favor to Hollow Druse. If anything, we could pay later.

“With the shit happening at The Edge right now?” Segfault shook his head. “No way, no use. It will get nullified the moment she tries to use it, and she will get caught.”

Flower and Clandestine looked at me expectantly. Seemed like it was up to me to decide what were we going to do next.

I carefully began to consider both ideas. I needed two things: a new body and knowledge. Both were crucial for my survival in Canterlot and ultimately, our escape from it. Though, I had to discuss it with Del and Flower first. Also, with Wire and her family. But even if they would reject that idea, nothing changed.

I needed a new body to stop looking like a violation of the law. But more importantly I needed a new body that wouldn’t be falling apart everytime I did something more physically straining than just a fast trot. Tin Flower had done a great job. An impossible job. But her resources were severely limited. Brass Litany’s help was appreciated as well, but it didn’t fix the problem. And there was no way to easily solve said problem.

Tin Flower’s idea might take months, if not longer. Nor was the idea of making drugs appealing to me. Delight’s idea, on the other hoof, could bear fruits much faster, but it was dangerous and not guaranteed to actually make my situation better.

And there was the option of going straight to the Archives. It was risky, it was unreliable and most probably it was unproductive. However, if I succeed in finding the information I needed, I could possibly find help by myself. Canterlot had changed, five centuries had passed, but there ought to be ponies for whom my name still bore any significance. I had to be honest with myself, it didn’t sound like the most intelligent decision. But there was one thing that was tilting the scales in its favor.

Spike was somewhere underground and he was in pain.

Author's Notes:

Alrighty, my faithful readers, here goes the 6th chapter of the story. Some say it is a bit boring, but I wanted to focus a bit on world-building again and give a moment of respite for Twilight. You may say it's a moment of calm before the storm.
Also, I've almost finished the next chapter and got some other stories going. Got even an idea for a new side story – "The Black Tales of White Winter", but I'm not going to focus on it until I finish this story arc and the previously planned side story.

As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
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Chapter 7 – The Walking Tombstone

We walked through the streets of Canterlot once again. And by “we” I mean Delight and myself. After a couple of city blocks it became apparent that Flower had almost no strength left in her. The filly stumbled every other step and even fell a few times, tripping on the uneven pavement. Grumbling, she finally agreed to climb on my back and almost instantly fell asleep.

Underneath the rusty and bent plates on my chest, in a little compartment, the ID from Segfault was now keeping the company of the token Brass Litany so generously given to me. Actually, I had almost forgotten about that little gift and was surprised that I had managed not to lose it during my recent misadventures. I didn’t mention it when I was telling my story to Flower, so it surprised both of my friends. Flower didn’t have much to say about it, for she knew almost nothing about the Church of the Machine Goddess. Delight, however, advised me to use it only when all other options had been exhausted, including “each and every other fucking crazy cult in those forsaken Deep Tunnels.” So now, I had a metal card encrusted with crystal panels and my equinoid ID in my possession. I now only needed to get a new body – a piece of cake!

Surprisingly, neither Flower nor Delight objected to my idea of going straight to the Archives. They didn’t even ask my reasoning behind that decision. However, Del demanded that we all take a detour and swing by a normal eatery because she was starving. Flower readily joined that call.

As stated by Delight, the city wasn’t homogenous in its quality of life. As we were slowly nearing the border with the central areas – the Inner City – the scenery began to gradually change.

The sky wasn’t obscured by countless advertisement signs and entwinements of wires anymore – gloomy skyscrapers loomed above us instead, hiding the firmament from view. The streets looked cleaner, less littered, almost decent. They didn’t smell that bad anymore. Rust – the ever present plight of the metal city – was ceding to chrome, albeit not completely. Delicate combinations of plastic and glass began to appear, replacing sturdy structures of steel and concrete.

The crowd filling the streets changed too. No more did the ponies try to outshine each other with their bizarre looks. And that was all, just ponies. Zebras, griffins, equinoids… they were becoming a very rare sight. Though they still looked somewhat wild in terms of fashion, the mass of ponies looked more or less uniform. Garish outfits gave way to suits, most of them resembling something that I would call business attire. A bit different from what I remembered, but such clothes were still discernible.

It was becoming closer to what I expected a city in the future to look like. However, it was still very far from perfection. And I knew if I were to turn back and go to the tall wall encasing Canterlot, beyond it I would witness the price paid by ponies to make the inner districts shine and glimmer.

Delight slowed down a bit and we came alongside of each other. She used her wing to adjust the cloth tatters hiding my mechanical body from sight.

“Are you sure this is a good decision?” Del warily glanced at me. “Is it worth the risk?”

I took some time to answer. The deeper we went into the city, the more I was realizing how starkly I was standing out. And we were avoiding large streets and using back alleys.

I had no concrete plan for myself and the little company I had already managed to gather around me. At the moment, getting to Stalliongrad was the final goal, the only reasonable option available. But it was concerningly vague. Before settling on it, I needed to know if there was any other choice. And for that, I needed to know more. Even if it was indeed the only way, I wasn’t going to leave the city without Spike. Again, I needed to know what happened to him in the first place.

“Yes.” Realizing that it came a bit too curt and harsh, I added, “It will be worth it, I’m sure of it. Don’t worry.”

Delight said nothing and gave me a long look. In the end she nodded. I couldn’t tell if she was nodding to me or herself.

Del and I resumed trotting through the narrow back streets of Canterlot in silence. I could feel Flower fidgeting and squirming slightly on my back. It was obvious that the filly wasn’t really comfortable taking a nap on my metal ridged back. Why she chose me instead of a cradle between Delight’s soft feathery wings was a mystery.

We suddenly took a few sharp turns and ended up in a dead end. The place was a little island of the outer districts’ dirtiness and decadence hidden inside the labyrinth of dark towers not so far from Canterlot’s gleaming heart.

Only three entrances led to the blind alley. Well, four, if one counted the slightly ajar trapdoor in the middle of it. It had a brick lodged between the pavement and the hatch itself to keep it open, though nopony could be seen around. On the right side, a warm light was coming from the windows of a small eating joint. It clashed with the cold blue glow cast by the neon signs of a repair shop right next to it. The third doorway, the one on the left side, was completely dark and served as the entrance to a building which seemed to be a simple apartment complex. However, there was something sinister about it. None of its windows had panes of glass in them, only a few forlorn shards here and there, like jagged fangs in a gaping maw. Those empty mouths appeared not just dark, but as if they actively sucked in any light.

Keeping to the opposite side from the shady building, we came to the glass door leading inside the eatery. Its name, “Black Shawarma,” was a simple, not animated, yet occasionally flickering neon sign made in ornate letters to resemble exotic Saddle Arabian writing.

Before we entered Delight extended her wing and used her primary to tickle Tin Flower’s nose. The filly loudly sneezed and woke up, almost falling from my back as a result. Glaring at Del, she yawned widely.

“Are we at the Archives already?” Flower grumbled and glanced around sceptically.

“Not yet, we came to a place where we can grab a meal,” explained Delight before she pushed the door.

“Do they have mildew?” Tin Flower asked with another yawn. I realized that I couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“Better.”

“Black Shawarma” was quite a normal place, well, in terms of sanitary conditions at least. Small, with only a couple of tables, but cozy. The metal furniture was rather worn, polished by the countless hooves of past patrons and covered in nicks and scratches, but it was clean.

As we came in, Delight wasted no time and approached a stallion behind a counter, and presumably made an order, because he immediately turned his attention to the stove. While the cook was busy preparing the order, Del quitely conversed with him; Flower and I took a seat at one of two available tables. The other table was taken by some elderly grey-maned mare, who was napping with her face in an empty plate and one hoof grasping a half-empty plastic cup of some drink, a dark brown, almost black liquid – probably coffee.

I couldn’t discern the quiet chat Del was having with the cook, but it didn’t seem to be very lively, just an exchange of a few phrases every so often. Speaking of him, the cook’s appearance was very unusual. At first glance he might appear to be just a unicorn stallion, albeit of very large stature, but as I tried to study him without outright staring, I saw what drew my attention.

A short body, lanky legs, high-set tail, long narrow muzzle and a horn of impressive length. Those weren’t unusual features for ponies, especially unicorns. However, being so pronounced and combined with an exceptional height, they pointed to the not-so-Equestrian roots of this stallion. It was Saddle Arabian blood showing itself. Which in turn explained the existence of such an exotic place in the city. A family business, most probably, with him being not only a cook but also the owner. I couldn’t say that back in my time Equestria’s borders were closed for any visitors, but it seemed that despite the cruel reality of Canterlot, it had become a refuge for more guests from the distant lands than ever before. Briefly, I wondered what became of Neighponia, Saddle Arabia, Zebrica and other ungulates’ countries, especially considering how much Equestria had changed.

As I mused, the stallion in question finished preparing four portions of shawarma but, before giving them to Delight he pointed a small device at the top of her neck. In the ray of greenish pale light emanated by that device, a row of lines of different thickness with numbers under them showed itself right on Delight’s skin. I was pretty sure it wasn’t there before, so it was probably made up of some kind of fluorescent ink. Was it another mark, something like the Moth mark on her cheek? Apparently, cutie marks weren’t sufficient anymore. I didn’t know that to think of it, honestly.

The device blinked, made a beeping sound and was promptly retracted back under the counter. The pegasus stretched her wing to grab the plates, but was again stopped by the stallion. She asked him something and in answer the cook looked directly at me and nodded questioningly in my direction. Realizing that my presence might be an issue, I cast my eyes down. As I had already learned, my facial expressions were rather limited and overall I probably didn’t look very friendly, especially after the recent fight, so I didn’t want to risk giving him the wrong impression. Still, I kept giving them occasional careful glances.

As before, I didn’t hear what they said to each other. But, after a long and wary look, the stallion finally let Delight return to the table and resumed his activities at the cooking station. Delight’s facial expression was neutral, even somewhat happy as she walked to our table, and I decided not to ask anything about that little hiccup.

A tray with two plates, two portions of shawarma on each, and two glasses of hot tea. I glanced across it at Tin Flower, who had dozed off, lulled to sleep by the dim light, warmth and quiet murmur of pots.

Delight gently poked her shoulder with the tip of her hoof.

“What’s that?” mumbled Flower, studying the contents of the plates with half-lidded eyes.

Shawarma, shaurma, doner, gyros… almost every nation had their own name for that kind of food. But in essence, it was the same everywhere. Falafel balls (or sliced meat in the case of griffins and other carnivores) wrapped in a flatbread together with some diced vegetables and garnished with a sauce. The ingredients might vary widely, but the formula had remained the same for centuries. I, myself, never had a chance to taste it, though I did see shawarma being sold on the streets of Manehattan and Fillydelphia amongst other street food.

Delight’s answer, however, was much more eloquent and spared Flower the extensive lecture.

“It’s shawarma.” With those words she took one of the rolls and dug in.

“That doesn’t explain anything,” Tin Flower complained, eyeing her portion with uncertainty.

For a moment I had trouble understanding Flower’s reluctance, but then I remembered that the poor filly spent her entire life at the Edge and considered mold tasty food. I had no idea what food rations consisted of or if Flower even got them.

Finally, she carefully took one of the roasted rolls in her non-metal hoof and sniffed at it. The filly showed no reaction, but tentatively took a small bite and chewed on it. Almost instantly, Flower’s eyes widened, and she all but tried to shove the entire portion in her mouth.

“Wow, you impress even me,” commented Delight with a full mouth, chuckling, a cucumber slice falling on the table along with a few drops of sauce.

That remark fell on deaf ears as Flower continued to greedily gorge on her meal, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. The smile fell off Del’s face upon seeing that display.

“You Edge kids have it hard, don’t you?” Delight quietly said.

As a being of metal, I had no ability to join them in their little feast and the only option I had was to forlornly watch my newfound friends sate their hunger.

Despite Delight starting to eat her portion earlier and having the advantage of being an adult pony, she and Tin Flower finished at the same time.

“Thank you so much, Delight,” said Flower, wiping the sauce and crumbs off her muzzle. “That was the tastiest thing I’ve eaten in my life.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Delight waved her hoof in answer and sipped on the still steaming tea. Flower soon joined her in enjoying their hot drinks.

For a while we sat in silence, resting from the extensive journey through the city.

“So, after we get your dragon, we are going to Stalliongrad, right?” said Flower out of nowhere, after another sip. I just stared at her in utter disbelief. How did she know? I glanced at Delight, but she only shrugged. Apparently, Flower noticed my confusion.

“Come on, Twilight, I spent years with Scuff Gear. He talks about only two things: how shiny and round the Magician’s ass was and how good it would be for all of us to get to Stalliongrad. No way he didn’t say a single word about both,” she explained with a roll of her eyes.

“Well… he did tell me about it,” I replied, “and it seems to me like a sensible option, considering everything I’ve learned and seen so far.” I intended to postpone this talk with Flower until I learned even more in the Archives, of course. “What do you think?’

“Yup, it sucks here. But…” Flower chewed on her lip, “Scuffy always told me to go there, though he never said how or even where exactly Stalliongrad is…”

“I agree,” Delight joined the conversation. “As much as I’d like to go on that journey, it won’t be easy by any means. With you,” -she pointed at me with her wingtip- “the Former One, we have a chance, I think. But our problems begin with the simple fact that nopony knows where Stalliongrad is, except that it is in the far north.”

“We can check the location in the Archives, I don’t see much of a problem,” I retorted.

“Twilight, there is not a single map with Stalliongrad on it in Canterlot,” came the explanation from Delight.

Oh. Well, that explains some things. Anyway, I checked my memory and with relief discovered that I still remembered most of the geography I once had learned.

“I can point it out on the map, if I get one.” More or less. “Not the most exact location, but I won’t miss completely.”

“Huh, that is why we can make it with you.” Del broke into a smile.

So what were the other problems?

“What else? Food and supplies, right?”

“That, too, yes.” Del nodded approvingly. “We will need to get food rations, and a lot of them. It won’t be easy because their distribution is controlled by The Crown. But that is the least of our problems.”

It was Flower’s turn to speak. “There are two big issues. First, we can’t just simply walk out of the city. We will have to go through the north Edge sectors, which is difficult by itself. The biggest problem, though, is the Toxic Dump. It is much bigger and… err, more toxic than in my sector. I’m not sure Wire’s protective gear will be enough.”

“And even if we manage that, we will have to wade through a lot of snow.” Delight readily gathered up the thread, adding her knowledge. “Those who failed to get to Stalliongrad but made it back alive say that about a hundred kilometers to the north a permafrost starts, with deep snow lying around even in summer. Speaking of which, we better not leave the city in winter, obviously.”

Before I could ask what season it was now, Flower spoke again.

“Also, it’s just the three of us right now, but I’m not going anywhere without Wire, and she is sure not going to leave her folks behind,” she said, with her gaze stalwart. “Not to mention your dragon.”

So, we were talking about getting enough food and gear for a full-blown expedition of… how many was it? One falling apart equinoid, two fillies and three mares. And a fully-grown dragon. That sounded like quite a predicament, considering that I had zero currency.

“It is all solvable,” I said instead. It did sound like a huge task, but it didn’t mean it was impossible to complete. “I mean, that stallion over there,” I pointed at the cook, “he has food – vegetables and such. He got them somewhere, didn’t he?”

“TCE sells a surplus of goods sometimes and there is always the black market,” answered Delight after a few moments of deep thinking. “The stripes import a lot of stuff, like, I dunno, garlic. TCE doesn’t grow it.”

“And we don’t have to go straight north, actually,” I continued. “Stalliongrad is located on the shore of Luna Bay – it’s north-west. So if we go straight west to the North Luna Ocean and then follow the shoreline by either boat or hoof, we will end up there eventually.” It was a better plan than either crossing Galloping Gorge and the Unicorn Range or blindly going north and then turning westward trying to go around them.

But my idea was instantly objected by Del.

“No way, the most western sector is the police HQ and the isoblock prison.” She shook her head vigorously with Flower following suit.

“We can always go through the Shitters further south,” the filly suggested nonchalantly.

“Ugh, thanks but no.” Delight made a face with Flower rolling her eyes to that.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, we have no chance making it through the heavy industry sector and its toxic waste. The west Edge is all like that,” she finished, emphasizing her words with the tapping of her metal hoof. “Alone, maybe, but not together.”

“And we are going to have a blind pony amongst us,” I added, suddenly remembering that fact about Wire’s mother.

“Don’t underestimate Ms. Dust, she can see using her magic, so she won’t be as much of a burden as you think. Hollow Druse is very capable, we will be much better off with her.” Flower countered my concerns. “We just need to get them all out of the Edge and we are going to need more supplies, that’s all.”

The Arcane Sight, huh? That’s something I hadn’t heard about in a while. Though, that wasn’t what drew my attention, but the mention of needing to get Wire’s family out of the Canterlot outskirts as an additional step.

“The main problem I see,” Del said, finishing her tea, “is the rampaging dragon you need to deal with, Twilight. Do you have any ideas?”

“Not yet.” I sadly shook my head. “But I’m sure I will find something in the Archives.”

“Let’s move on then.”

We left “Black Shawarma” and once again began to trot through the backstreets of Canterlot. Flower and I followed Delight as she hurriedly navigated the depths of the city, the filly on her own hooves this time. The further we went, the more clean and prim our surroundings looked, and we stood out more noticeably, like an eyesore.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, we came to a narrow, dark and dirty backstreet. It was a dead-end passage formed by the backs of tower-like buildings, looming over us. The only light was coming from the distant sky, and as I looked up, I felt as if I was at the bottom of a deep well, with its walls made of glass, steel and concrete. The amount of litter strewn everywhere was giving the impression that the back alley was never properly cleaned up – the garbage cans standing guard near every backdoor were more or less empty, but the trash around them seemed to be ignored. That refuse had become a home for rats, who held a feast inside the rotting mounds. The only good thing about that street was the complete lack of anypony in sight.

“We should be close,” Del said, looking around, searching for number plates on the buildings. “Though I’ve never been to this part of Canterlot, if we came to the right address the Archives should be here.”

“Wait… Is that the building we need?” Flower suddenly exclaimed, pointing her metal hoof at the one near the end of the alley.

“Yea…” Delight nodded after some thoughtful looking at it. “How did you know?”

“I’ve seen it before,” the filly explained and then added, turning to me “it’s where I found your crystals.”

Upon hearing that I felt uneasy. Something wasn’t quite right, I just couldn’t put my hoof on it. Nevertheless, we proceeded closer to what was supposed be the Royal Archives.

Back in my days it was a stately ancient building, a part of the royal palace complex, existing in conjunction with the Royal Library. All recorded information in the history of Equestria could be found there. And such a great vault looked like a worthy place for all the knowledge of countless generations.

What I was looking at now was nothing short of miserable. Low and bulky, only about five stories high, the modern cradle of information was giving the impression of a small warehouse. Nestled betwixt two black skyscrapers, it looked as if it was squashed by their rears, however it seemed to face the backstreet unlike its neighbors. Its facade was one step away from crumbling – a weblike mosaic formed by countless cracks was disrupted in many places by fallen plaster. There were no signs or anything else adorning the falling apart walls, with the exception of the building and street numbers on the rusted plate on the corner. The windows were dark, but not completely so – in some a faint bluish glow could be seen, somewhere deep inside. Those forlorn archives, hidden deep in the recesses not far from the border with the gleaming Inner City, no longer appeared to me as a destination to crave for. As I looked at it, the flame of my hope was giving way to doubt.

Even Delight and Flower seemed to be disappointed, yet it was the mellow pegasus who took the first steps towards the entrance.

“Let’s go. The sooner we get out of this part of the city, the better,” Delight said, motioning for us to follow with her wing.

I followed Del through the door, noting that it wasn’t made of wood, but metal, slightly corroded with time. A sonorous protest of rusty hinges was the only sound greeting us as we entered the empty room. It was supposed to be a reception, I think, though neither the guard post, nor large tall table, had anypony sitting behind them. A lone blinking gas lamp was spilling its pale, slightly cyan light on the dust covering the floor and furniture. That place looked desolate and eerie, as if abandoned, which was only fueling my growing sense of unease.

I glanced at Flower and Delight – they answered me with silent concerned looks, mirroring my feelings. We gathered closer and proceeded further, to the only other door in that room.

It wasn’t as squeaky, but maybe I just didn’t notice, for my attention was completely diverted to the contents of the room. That door led directly to what could be nothing but the Archives themselves.

Before me I beheld a vast chamber, so large that I could see neither the walls, nor the ceiling. That, however, was not only because of the sheer size of the hall; but also because there were no lamps whatsoever. The deep blackness was weakly disrupted by blue blinking lights of some large box-like machines, faintly rustling with their insides. Those lights were reflected by countless crystals residing on the shelves of many stacks surrounding those mysterious contraptions.

Not a single pony came to meet us; these Archives were silent as a tomb, with the exception of the murmur and whispers of the blinking boxes. I began to really doubt this was the actual Archives – not a single book or scroll was in sight.

Stifling an urge to turn back and go as far away as possible from this creepy place, I took a tentative step forward. Amidst the labyrinth of shelves and machines I could see an opening somewhere in the middle of the room, lit by an actual light. I didn’t know what I was expecting to find there, but it felt like a start. As I moved, I felt Flower pressing into my side. Delight was close as well – her feathers brushing my other side.

Finally, we made it to that clearing. It was just a circular place free of anything besides a box filled with rectangular crystal plates. A blue lantern on the top of the box emanated cold lifeless light; my memory told me that if I weren’t made from metal it would be painful to look at. I glanced at the contents of the box once again, wondering what purpose those plates served, when a sudden realization hit me.

During the war we had already begun to use crystals to store information. My current existence was the perfect example of how effectively it could work. I turned around and took in my surroundings once more. Hundreds of tall shelves filled with crystal plates, and who knew how many more of them were submerged in the darkness. Even if only half of those crystals had any information in them, by the standards of my time, that vault would have more information than ten Royal Libraries.

“Welcome to the Royal Archives!” A voice came from the darkness behind me. It was familiar, painfully so, and sounded so wrong and so right at the same time.

I turned around to greet the voice owner, but all I saw were a pair of glowing eyes approaching from the shadows. A few moments later a figure emerged into the circle of light and I felt like the world had begun to crumble into nothingness.

Purple paint peeling from tarnished metal plates. Old-looking metal bangs of the mane, colored in indigo with a streak of magenta embracing a horn on the forehead. Sharp and delicate features of a young unicorn mare. Deep violet eyes.

“Good afternoon. My name is Twilight Sparkle. How can I help you?”

With my mind absolutely blank I stared back at myse… no. There couldn’t be two “myselfs”, that wasn’t how the world worked.

There was Twilight Sparkle, a pony who transcended death through science and magic and freed herself from the coils of mortal flesh.

And then there was me, an echo, an incomplete imprint of magic, pretending to be an entity.

I gazed back at Twilight Sparkle and she just looked back, smiling calmly, serenely… obliviously… lifelessly.

Then I started to realize something.

It is thought to be impossible to transfer a pony mind into a cybernetic body without them losing nearly all their memories and emotions. Red Wire’s words echoed in my mind, followed by those of Scuff Gear. Heard even about you – Twilight Sparkle, one the greatest heroes and scientists, who met a miserable and cruel end.

“Alright. If you need any assistance, I will be nearby,” Twilight said in an emotionless dull voice, a grotesque imitation of the one she once had. Without using magic she hauled the box on her back, in mechanical rigid motions, and left, dissolving into the shadows she had come from, not caring to take the lantern.

I just stood still, gazing at the silhouette moving in the darkness, trying to understand at who… or what I was looking.

“Did you know her?” came an unfamiliar voice from my side. I swung around to confront the other dweller of the Archives and my eyes met an equinoid who was leaning on the one of those large box-machines.

Their frame looked… strange. It wasn’t completely featureless like the one from the Tunnels, but it didn’t look feminine or masculine either. Rather… not entirely equine, its differences so subtle that I couldn't even point them out. As if this model wasn’t made by ponies or even equinoids. I felt like I had seen something like it before, but I just couldn’t remember where. However, their slightly buzzing voice sounded more male than anything else, so I decided to settle on that at least.

“We rarely have equinoids visiting us here, and none have ever reacted like that. Nor did any ponies for that matter,” he continued, not waiting for me to answer. “Anyway, as she said, welcome to the Royal Archives. Feel free to access the terminals” -the equinoid motioned with his hoof at the glowing screen on the side of one of the smaller box-machines- “but please do remember that this place is protected by The Crown.”

My mind was still in disarray, but I needed to focus. I might be an incomplete, imperfect reflection, but Spike was real. And so were Tin Flower, Red Wire and Clandestine Delight. I either needed to talk to Twilight and convince her to help me (if she, hopefully, had any memories) or continue on my own. Not for myself, whatever I was, but for them.

The equinoid patiently waited for my reaction. I turned my head to my sides – Del and Flower were there, confused and puzzled to various degrees, maybe even a bit perturbed, but silent and at attention. I turned back to the equinoid.

Alright, I needed to start somewhere. I really wished at that moment I could take a deep breath.

“What happened to her?” I asked the equinoid, glancing over my shoulder. In the darkness, a shape moved like a puppet and the soft clicks of gems clanking against each other could be heard.

“So, you do know she wasn’t an equinoid once,” the equinoid said and hemmed. “Twilight Sparkle was the first ever pony to attempt a transference and to subsequently discover the Transference Paradox.” In the corner of my eye I saw Flower scrunch her nose and try to mouth the word “subsequently”. “She lost all her memories and most of her sentience. However, The Crown decided to keep her online in case they returned one day.”

“Did they?” I asked, hoping that not all the knowledge she had was lost beyond recall.

“No. But at least she is good with helping me run the Archives.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalantly, but it was obvious he was quite interested in me. I guess, he really wasn’t getting many visitors. “I’m the head Archivarius here, by the way. Or the only Archivarius for that matter.”

“May I talk to her?” I asked him another question, glancing over my shoulder, but Twilight was already gone.

“Sure.” He shrugged again. “But I told you, she doesn’t remember a thing.”

I swung my head around trying to locate Twilight. Eventually I heard the clop of metal hooves against the floor somewhere in the shadows betwixt tall shelves. I took a step towards it, but was stopped by a snowy white wing.

“Twilight, are you alright?” Delight asked me, with a very concerned expression. Over her shoulder I could see Flower, who looked just as nervous and in addition, conflicted.

I was not. I was acutely feeling my unliving rusty body on a psychological level, how wrong my existence was, especially in the presence of the real Twilight Sparkle. But I couldn’t let myself fall victim to that again. There were others depending on me this time.

“I’m not sure.”

“We can turn and just leave.” She looked at me with almost pleading eyes. “And if you need information we can get in touch with some of the other Former Ones.”

“No, I need to do this,” I retorted and prepared to leave, but was stopped by Tin Flower, who stepped right in front of me, her eyes glued to the floor.

“Twilight,” she quietly said, biting her lip, “I’m sorry.” She raised her eyes to look at me and I saw moisture glistening in them.

“For what?” Flower took me by surprise, but deep inside I knew what this all was about. She was starting to realize the full scale of what she had done by accidentally creating me.

“I don’t know, but I feel like I did something wrong.”

Did she? Tin Flower inadvertently brought back to semi-life part of the memories of a pony once known as Twilight Sparkle. If I forget for a moment the fact that she broke the law (which didn’t sound very reasonable to me in first place), I wouldn’t say that it was a very wrong thing to do. A very strange thing, admittedly, but not necessarily wrong. After all, if that hadn’t happened, Delight might not have made it out of the Tunnels alive. And Twilight obviously didn’t know about Spike.

“You did nothing wrong, Flower.” I placated the distraught filly and gave her a comforting hug to reinforce my words. “Nothing at all.”

I wished that moment lasted longer, but I had to talk with Twilight. It had become an issue affecting not only me. So I broke the hug, smoothed Flower’s mane (or rather, tried to) and stepped into the shadows listening for any sounds of activity. I should have taken a lantern with me, in retrospect, but I totally forgot about it in the spur of the moment. Anyway, it didn’t take me very long to find Twilight.

Despite me being just a few hooflengths from her, she paid me no attention. Instead, Twilight was focused on the semi-transparent crystal plates she was carrying around in the box. She was taking them out, studying them for a few moments and then putting them on the shelves. Her motions were a bit jerky, like those of a toy in the magic hold of an inexperienced puppeteer. She was far more than just a step behind all the equinoids I had met so far. One more thing I noted: her horn didn’t light up, not even once. She wasn’t the Element of magic, not anymore.

“Twilight Sparkle?” I called, unable to watch any longer the mockery of life that she was.

“Yes. How can I help you?” She instantly stopped mid-movement and turned to me, beaming with a rigid hollow smile.

I could ask her so many questions, but there were only a few that actually mattered.

“Do you remember your friends?” I inquired and prepared for the blow.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I never had any friends,” Twilight answered readily and without a pause, her voice as oblivious as it could be. I was expecting that, but it still hurt to hear.

“Do you remember Spike?” He was still alive, that I knew, and maybe she did too. Maybe he was even right underneath us at this very moment, preying upon the Tunnel dwellers or tearing himself apart in blind madness.

“A spike of what?” she tilted her head in an uncanny attempt to mimic confusion. “We had a series of lag spikes in connection with the Sky Palace mainframe recently, but I can assure you that the problem was fixed.”

Friends defined who Twilight Sparkle was; memories of them were at the core of her personality. Spike was her family. But there was one more memory, no less important, burned into her mind like an image of the Sun.

“Do you remember Her?”

“I’m sorry, but you need to specify your request,” came an answer, quite a fair one, I guess.

“Do you remember Princess Celestia?” I asked with hope in my voice, looking right into her eyes, tentative yet empty.

And for a moment she paused, making my virtual heart skip a beat. Maybe not everything was lost? Maybe I could bring her memories back with the crystals inside me in the same way it worked for me? Was this my purpose?

Her eyes twitched for a moment, so imperceptibly that I might as well have imagined it.

“No,” she finally said after what felt like an eternity. “No, I do not.” That phrase was built a bit differently from her usual dry reporting fashion, and I thought it was said in a different intonation, one with life behind it. But then I realized that I was just fooling myself.

Once again, Wire's words resurfaced in my mind.

Memories define who we are. If you have the memories of a pony named Twilight Sparkle, you are Twilight Sparkle, like it or not.

I had to face it – I was all that was left of Twilight Sparkle. It was confusing, it was scary, it was wrong. I could no longer deny that it was me who now had to deal with this strange new world. I knew nothing about it, and I didn’t know even what I was supposed to do with it or if it was my place to do anything about disharmony and injustice anymore. I only wished I had my friends with me. Well, my “old” friends. Speaking of which, one of them was the reason why I came here in the first place. As if reading my thoughts, “Twilight” spoke once again.

“It appears that I don’t possess any information you need. Would you like to access the Royal Archives database?”

It didn’t take me much time to learn how to use the terminals in the Archives. Reading from a glass screen was a bit strange, and the keyboard’s keys were a bit too small for my crude and uncooperative hooves, but overall it was incredibly convenient. All I needed was just to type my inquiry and watch the machine find the entry kept in some remote vault – “the server”; if it was absent, the number of the crystal plate containing the information would be shown to me instead. In such cases “Twilight” would venture into the depths of the Archives and dutifully come back with a gleaming record in a sadly similar automated fashion.

Since I still had doubts about the blank state of this robotic Twilight’s memory, the so called Transference Paradox was the first thing I decided to check. To my disappointment, I didn’t learn anything conceptually new.

“Any attempts in transferring a pony consciousness always conclude with the subject losing 100% of memories, magical abilities and most sentience in the process. Replacing limbs and organs with inorganic counterparts leads to a gradual loss of magical abilities first and eventual loss of memory up to complete amnesia, depending on the ratio of organic parts to inorganic with correlation numbers applied to different organs. See the table of coefficients below…”

But what was causing it? How to avoid it? Was there a way to recover any of the lost memories? No answer, not even a single theory. Scientifically, it just happens, even though there is no evident reason for it to occur. It was as if the Paradox was discovered yesterday by a group of aspirants and not five hundreds years ago by experienced researchers. Or maybe just nopony cared enough to study it, which sounded like a very plausible reason in the modern world. I mean, they still use Maretin furnaces, what did I expect?

Unfortunately, very unfortunately, it was a recurring theme for most things I searched. A lot of information without substance, barely any actual knowledge with almost no details.

The Great War? It took place and was won by Equestria. The only thing I learned was that it apparently lasted approximately one more year after that accident with Rainbow Dash and I. But how was it won? No answer. Instead, the entry contained an excessive collection of documents, like casualties records, logistic reports and other examples of unnecessary bureaucracy.

The Crown? It was formed in place of the temporary government, at some point during the war. But I couldn’t even find a date when it took place, because the entire entry was a mess of countless governmental statements, manifests and acts.

I could understand why two fillies from the industry zone had never heard of a group of heroes from five centuries ago, but I couldn’t see any reason why the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony were almost absent from the Archives. Some of my friends were mentioned very briefly, but not as the Bearers. The Elements themselves were never mentioned anywhere. There weren’t any entries about Nightmare Moon or Discord, either. That was very concerning.

So. Applejack and her family were mentioned as founders of the Transcontinental Company of Equestria, no dates, no details. Not even the names of Big Macintosh, Applebloom, or Granny Smith. Nothing about what happened to her after that. Just a single mention, only once.

Rarity was mentioned as one of first members of The Crown, and apparently she lived to a ripe age, but again, no further details. What was her role in that new government? Did she have any children? And what about Sweetie Belle? Nothing.

Me after the accident? I was a researcher after the war ended and made some great contributions to the development of an artificial intelligence. How that story ended I knew already. Nothing else.

Spike, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie might as well have never existed in history. Not a single mention anywhere.

Speaking of which, the history of Equestria after the war was extremely vague. It consisted of the same bureaucratic literary garbage. Even if it contained any useful information, it was lost to me in the paragraph-long obscure formulations. I skimmed through it, because I had no time to meticulously study half a millennium full of events. Nothing caught my eye, and of course it all wasn’t explaining in the slightest how a land of vast green pastures and benevolence had turned into a semi-frozen technological nightmare on the brink of total collapse.

And then I typed what I probably should have done first, but feared too much to learn. The Princesses.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, who was also known as the Princess of Love, died during the Great War, fighting for Equestria on a battlefield. For a moment I sat in silence, honoring my babysitter, sister-in-law and, most importantly, great friend. In the end, she managed to escape from captivity only to find herself thrown into the crucible of war. It was not a fate she deserved, but something was telling me that it might very well be the reason why Equestria won the war – the fierce love of a demi-goddess for her country. Suddenly, I realized that not a single entry mentioned the Crystal Empire…

Princess Luna, Heir of the Moon, Guardian of the Dreamscape heroically died in the magical explosion she caused to destroy the changeling hive, thus putting an end to the changeling threat to Equestria. I hung down my head. She did it, after all. She avenged her sister but sacrificed herself to do so. Nor was that a fate deserved, no matter how valiant it was. Again, I sat in silence, honoring her noble deed. We didn’t spend much time together, but we still were good friends.

So this was how it all went. The Princesses sacrificed their lives so Equestria could live through its darkest time. And for what? Only for darker times to be brought by the ponies on themselves. That was not fair, that was not right.

I prepared to leave, since there wasn’t much more I wished to learn. And I honestly doubted I could – these archives were a joke. But then my gaze slid onto the last entry, which I ignored on purpose, but still failed to evade completely.

Princess Celestia, Heir of the Sun, the Dawnbringer died during the Great War, fighting for Equestria on a battlefield.

What..? At first I thought I reread the entry about Cadance, so alike they were, but I wasn’t mistaken. It made no sense. I saw with my very eyes how Chrysalis killed Her. I was at the funeral. That entry was a blatant lie.

Nopony, not even the Princesses could bring a once-living creature back to life. Sombra, maybe, but it said that She fought for Equestria, so it made no sense no matter how you turned it.

Nothing in that entry was making any sense. But then again, these archives were a vault for the useless fruits of overgrown bureaucracy. Most of the information was devoid of any actual meaning. If it was true to begin with. Who knew how much other data was incorrect?

Actually, it was all beginning to make sense. The Crown appeared to be a dictatorship, and from what I knew such a form of a government had a tendency to purge or twist any knowledge threatening the regime. Anypony could come here, after all, but they would learn no history from the history.

I should have expected that, really. Now I felt very bad for dragging Flower and Delight here, despite their rather justified protests. Speaking of which, where were they? I had probably spent hours digging through that database. I remembered seeing Flower taking a nap not far from where I sat, but then she had gone somewhere. Where Delight was, I had not a single idea. Even “Twilight” was gone.

Feeling extremely frustrated I stood up from my place. With the complete failure of my plan, we had to come up with a new one. And this time I really should listen to them.

It took me quite some time navigating through passways submerged in shadows and eerie light between the shelves and terminals, but I finally stumbled upon Tin Flower. And she wasn’t alone – the filly, looking much more invigorated, was vividly but quietly discussing something with Archivarius, both sitting beside “Twilight”. The equinoid who was supposed to resemble my likeness appeared to be offline – her eyes weren’t glowing, and the metal frame was still like a statue. As I approached closer, I saw the purple-painted plates had been removed from her head and body, revealing the inner workings.

I came a bit closer, and Archivarius noticed me and gave me a nod, but said nothing. I stopped near one the terminals, not wanting to interrupt their talk.

“...So, these are solid gems, right?” Flower said holding one of “Twilight’s” crystals in her hoof. It looked very familiar to me, like something from my times. “The old tech?”

“Yes. When the transference was attempted for the first time, clusters of microcrystals weren’t invented yet. And since then, nopony bothered to transfer her data,” Archivarius patiently explained.

“She doesn’t seem to have much of that anyway,” Flower grumbled, returning the gem inside the metal body. “Even my left leg has more personality.” Her last words had a slight reverb to them, since she had shoved her muzzle deep inside “Twilight's” torso.

“Hey, Archivarius,” she asked as her head came back from the equinoid’s inner workings.

“Hm?”

“Do you and this “Twilight” have an owner?”

“Technically, no,” Archivarius answered after some thought, “but we both are property of The Crown.” Then he narrowed his green glowing eyes. “Why do you ask, little one?”

“Well, technically, if you have no owner you are either breaking the law or you are some kind of exception I’ve never heard of.” Flower finally finished tinkering with “Twilight” and now was fully engaged in the conversation, pointing her hoof accusingly at Archivarius. I began to feel that it all was taking a direction I wasn’t going to like.

“We are property of The Crown we are The Crown.” Archivarius stood up from where he was sitting and tried to do his best to look intimidating. “We are the law.”

“Uh-huh, sure you are.” Apparently, Flower wasn’t impressed by the display at all. “Does it mean you and she are free?”

“I guess.” Again, only after some thought, Archivarius answered. “Why are you asking all of this?”

“I ask, if “Twilight” is free to come and go as she wishes,” Flower said, patting the still metal body on the back.

“I’m in charge of the Archives, not her, strictly speaking. So if Twilight Sparkle wishes, she is free to leave indeed. But she will have to answer to The Crown for her actions.” He narrowed his eyes again. “And it has to be her own will to leave, not your programming. Do it and you will be charged with theft of royal possessions. It’s a death sentence or the Crystal Mines, if you will be lucky enough to choose.”

Alright, now I wasn’t liking it in the slightest.

“Tin Flower? What are you up to?” I inquired to the filly, leaving the shadow from where I was listening to them.

“Oh, here you are, Twilight.” Flower beamed at me, like she wasn’t planning any crimes just a moment before. “Did you find what you looked for?”

“Sadly, no.” I shook my head. We would talk about that, surely, but after I prevented us from getting into even bigger trouble. “You didn’t answer my question.’’

“Oh, that.” She nonchalantly waved her hoof in dismissal. “I just thought about transferring your memory crystals into that body.”

“You what?” I exclaimed in sheer disbelief. It was wrong on every level. “You can’t do that! That… that will be murder!” was the first reason that came into my mind. That “Twilight” might not have any of the memories she was supposed to have, but she was still a sentient being.

“Listen, Twilight, this ‘Twilight Sparkle’ has the intelligence of a calculator and she has no memories whatsoever,” Flower retorted. “I can slap a sticker saying “Twilight” on that terminal over there with the same result...”

“Now, wait, both of you,” Archivarius said, coming closer to us with confusion written all over his robotic features. “What is this all about?”

“This equinoid here has the memories of Twilight Sparkle! She is h…” Flower began to explain, pointing her hoof at me, but I didn’t let her finish. Putting my hoof over her mouth, I dragged her aside.

“Could you excuse us for a minute?”

I let Flower go only when we were far enough so Archivarius wouldn’t hear us. The filly looked really annoyed by my actions, so I spoke before she could start arguing with me.

“Flower, you can’t just go around telling that to ponies!” I chided her in a harsh whisper.

“You still don’t believe that you are Twilight, do you?” she almost barked back, giving me a look full of disappointment.

“That’s not it.” It really wasn’t a problem anymore. However, I couldn’t say if it was a good thing. Existing had consequences. “I’m not really sure The Crown will be glad to know I’m still alive.”

“Why?” Her look changed to a puzzled one. “You were a great scientist and a big deal, what’s wrong with that?”

Yes, a scientist, but nothing more, according to the archives. There was not a single mention of the Bearers (as the Bearers) or the Elements themselves in the database. Something was telling me whoever was in charge didn’t want them to be around anymore, me probably included.

“It’s… complicated.” Explaining everything would have taken me more time than we had. “Just don’t tell anypony.”

However, all I received was an eye roll.

“I’m pretty sure Archivarius already knows, Twilight. I’m no unicorn, but that equinoid here never had his gems cleared. And he is centuries old, as he says.” She glanced back, where we left him. “Methinks, he very well may be a Former One.”

If I had a spine to begin with (well, I had the metal one, but it wasn’t the same) I would get shivers up it. There was something off about Archivarius, I couldn't deny that. And Flower’s explanation sounded very plausible. I wasn’t recognizing anypony I knew in that equinoid, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t know who I was.

“Then we should go now,” I said out loud and began to move away from where I stood to look for Delight and be gone from the Archives as soon as possible. But Flower dashed right in front of me.

“No, you don’t understand!” Flower pressed her hooves into my chest, as if to push me back. Of course, I didn’t move, but I got the message and stopped. She sat in front of me, her hooves still pressed into me as though she wasn’t sure of her initial success. “It’s our only chance.”

“Chance for what?” I hissed. “To be caught by the police? Or the Royal Guard?”

“If he wanted to call any of them, they would be here long ago, don’t be ridiculous.” Flower tapped her hoof against my metal plating. Then she pointed with another behind my shoulder and said, “I’m talking about the body, it’s in almost perfect condition and that’s not all. It is made from old metal, every part of it. If we want to make it to Stalliongrad we need it.” She looked critically over my current sordid vessel for my entity. “Those rusty bones are going to fall apart in a few weeks, even with all that Litany changed. And if you think we can buy something like that later, the entirety Canterlot will freeze five times over before we get enough e-bits.”

“But she is an equinoid, not just a terminal!” I objected, my voice involuntarily rising in indignation. “She has sentience, she has feelings. She may not be “Twilight” and she is not alive in the same sense as you, but she is still a living being.” But as I talked, I saw no change in Tin Flower’s eyes. She was giving me an unamused stare all that time. And was that pity in her unwavering gaze? Frustrated, I used my last argument, “Taking, no, stealing her body for myself would be outright murder!”

“Twilight,” Flower calmly began in almost patronizing tone, “she is just a machine. Not everything that talks, looks and acts like a pony is an equinoid.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with the metal hoof, while twirling another in the air, looking for words. “Equinoids, they have, like, a ‘true’ sentience – a fully-fledged AI. Yes, they are beings, though some will disagree.” She again pointed with her hoof behind my back, where the exposed ancient crystals gleamed inside the metal skeleton. “But she doesn’t have that. She has a programming and it’s not the same. She is not alive or dead, she is just a thing,” she finished, and gave me a hard, but somewhat sympathetic look. “Now, let’s go, you are moving into a new home.”

Flower didn’t need to drag or push me back this time. She was making sense, after all. I wanted to believe she was. Was it my ignorance, or was it that easy? To so simply draw a line between a ‘being’ and a ‘thing’? And that ‘fully-fledged AI’ which granted a machine the right to be considered a being, wasn’t it programming too? Who was to judge where the programming ended and the entity started? Suddenly, I felt that the existence of the Church of the Machine Goddess, with all its followers’ contempt for organic life, wasn’t only logical, but even justified.

“Archivarius?” Flower whisked me out of my thoughts, as we returned to the offline ‘Twilight’.

“Yes?” he asked back, rising his brow.

“Did The Crown specify how Twilight Sparkle’s memories were supposed to return?”

“No. Remember, I’m taking care of the Archives, not other equinoids.” Archivarius narrowed his eyes in suspicion again, though I could tell he was interested.

“Then I’d like to restore her memories,” Flower simply said.

“Really? How?” His eyes were no longer narrow with vague apprehension, but wide from curiosity, glancing between me, Tin Flower and ‘Twilight Sparkle’.

“This equinoid here is Twilight Sparkle,” -Flower pointed at me- “and I want to transfer the memories she has into her true body.”

Archivarius gave me a long, very long, yet expressionless stare. But when it was starting to become really uncomfortable, his eyes flashed, or I thought they did, and he spoke.

“Do go on.” The approval was said in a calm, nonchalant voice, as if we weren’t talking about a potentially disastrous transfer of memories which also happened to involve royal property, an illegal not-really-an-equinoid and a underage criminal, not counting a former prostitute.

“Just like that?” It was my turn to ask question.

“I said it’s not my business.” Archivarius shrugged. “I won’t stop you.”

I was sitting paralyzed and staring into the dead eyes of ‘Twilight’. There was no internal reason for that – Flower simply turned off all my body systems except for the ‘brains’ as she put it. And asked me not to think too hard, unless I wanted to get overheated.

It was a rather unpleasant state of existence, being unable to move and feel. It was like the tunnels under the Edge all over again or the moment I woke up. I couldn’t turn my head around, but my field of vision was wide enough to see a lot of things.

A mere hoof in front of me was the body of ‘Twilight’ with many plates removed, revealing sockets for gems – some of them already empty. Even despite Flower’s and then Delight’s reassurances I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of uneasiness. Like I was about to steal not only a body, but a life. No matter how miserable ‘Twilight’s’ existence was, I felt like she was a being who deserved to be respected. Or that somewhere deep inside she still had some memories from her past. I guess, my lack of knowledge, or rather non-existence of recordings, of the implications of the Transference Paradox was preventing me from believing that everything Twilight, everything… I was had been lost in that attempt.

In the corner of my vision I could see Delight. Her single eye gleamed in the shadows as she observed Flower’s labours while perched atop one of the large terminals. Occasionally she would glare at Archivarius, since it was him who found her taking a nap on one of the shelves, amongst some papers she had managed to find. He didn’t take such treatment of his beloved archives very well, and thus the pegasus was awakened in a rather rude fashion – shoved from that shelf with the full force of two mechanical hooves.

Archivarius himself was leaning on the terminal, calmly and patiently watching Tin Flower work. From time to time he commented on the process, giving the savant little mechanic tips and tricks, but never leaving his post.

Taking into account my lack of knowledge about the average mechanical skill nowadays, I couldn’t fairly judge that of Flower. But by my own experience, she was a prodigy. She starkly reminded me of Moondancer – the little filly had almost the same focused fervor Moonie possessed during work. Flower moved fast and nimbly, assembling and disassembling my and ‘Twilight’s’ bodies with a dexterity even most unicorns couldn’t hope to achieve. She clearly knew what she was doing, which was amazing since she learned all that by herself without knowing how to properly read. I wondered briefly of what she would be capable of when she finally learned to read, and that it might be me who could teach her…

“Alright, Twilight. I’m going to turn you offline and put your memory crystals inside the new body. You won’t even notice anything… I think,” she finally said, wiping her grime-covered hooves on her clothing.

Unable to give any answer or, more importantly, clarify that uncertain detail, I began to panic. What if I lost any memories I had since I had awakened in Canterlot? What if all my memories were wiped because of the Transference Paradox still affecting ‘Twilight’s’ body? What if…

And then everything went black.

But only for a single moment, as if I simply blinked.

When my eyes opened again, I saw not the purple painted muzzle, but a slumped rusted frame, battered and wrapped in rags dirty with oil and dried blood. It worked!

I blinked and took a sharp breath. Blinked! And breathed!

Realizing that I could move, I looked around. The new body felt almost natural – smooth and swift motions, a much more rich range of feelings – and it was my size and color. Whoever had designed it had planned for me to feel as little difference as possible, it seemed.

As was I turning around, looking at myself and testing my limbs I noticed Flower, Del and Archivarius looking at me as well. Flower was the first to speak.

“Twilight?”

“Yes?” I was still twirling around, enjoying what had to be the pneumatics. “This new body is just amazing!”

“I’m glad you are enjoying it and I’m glad you made it.” At that moment I realised that Flower was looking at me with concern. Del and Archivarius were giving me uncertain glances just as well.

“‘Made it’?” I asked, confused. I thought it all went without a hitch, and I seemed to have no problems. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never worked with crystals like yours.” Flower fidgeted somewhat in embarrassment, but then quickly added, “Nopony ever had, I think. So I didn’t know what to expect.” She looked me right in the eyes. “It took half an hour for you to boot.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. It sounded… scary. I just blinked, but thirty minutes passed in reality. It could have been hours. Days. Weeks. Five hundred years.

“It’s alright, you just got me worried for a sec.” I could clearly see how Flower was growing more relaxed with each moment, relief written all over her face. “I’m gonna run diagnostics one more time, just in case, and we are good to go.”

As she said the last part, I glanced at Archivarius to see his reaction to that, but he remained silent, bearing no expression but vivid curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He was unnerving at best, outright creepy otherwise. He looked like a grotesque mimicry of a pony, made so lifelike that it became uncanny. I couldn't even fathom what was in his mind. If Archivarius was a Former One, I couldn’t understand why he would work for the Crown, and in such a place – a forsaken and forgotten repository of lies. But he said he was the property of the Crown, right? However, he didn’t seem to comply with his masters entirely – he just let a ragtag clique basically take royal property. In any case, if he indeed never had his crystals cleared, then I would still be wary of a pony who spent centuries in solitude confined to one single place. Pony or equinoid, it just couldn’t be healthy.

As if sensing me thinking of him, Archivarius, followed by Delight, began to walk towards me.

“Glad you are still with us,” said Delight, smiling. Chuckling, she added, “And you look much better, not like you are going to start a rampage anymore.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled as well and gave a momentary glance to my ‘old’ body. Yikes. “I’m glad about it too.”

“If you weren’t smashing into walls and trying to kill ponies,” Flower grumbled from somewhere at my side, a small wrench in her teeth, “ you would have looked fine. And,” -she spit it out and pulled her hoof from inside of my chest- “...what the synth-hay is that?”

I turned my head back as far as I could to see what Flower was talking about. Del and Archivarius came closer and craned their necks to see the small object Flower was holding in her hooves.

“Isn’t it one of those empty crystals?” Del commented, as she moved Flower’s hoof with her wingtip to take a better look.

I could see that Archivarius had narrowed his eyes in thought, but remained silent.

“It is,” confirmed Flower, but the puzzled look didn’t vanish from her face. “But it was not connected to anything and it was kinda hidden.”

From all this commotion by my side I couldn’t see a thing, not to mention that there were limits to how far I could turn my head. So I stretched my hoof to Flower.

“Let me take a look.”

The crystal was of a familiar design, a solid one (though I yet had to see those “clusters of microcrystals”, so I could be mistaken). An amethyst with classic unicorn facetting, either of average quality or just worn out with time. But it was telling me nothing about its purpose. It also was set in a silver case encrusted with smaller button-like semi-precious stones, which I couldn’t name, but I noted their rarity, very bright rich magenta and deep blue colors. It was obviously enchanted; inside the translucent violet depth a glow of magic could be clearly seen.

“Looks like a recording crystal, like the ones I used,” I voiced my closest guess, “but I can’t be sure until the enchantment is checked.” Which was not going to happen any time soon, since none of us was a unicorn.

As I rolled the crystal in my hooves, a thought struck me – it wasn’t just a decorative casing, it was a specifically crafted and enchanted setting to make it usable by non-unicorns. But my company might not know that.

“It also looks like it can be activated by non-magic users…” I mumbled, continuing to study the mysterious crystal, searching for anything that would reveal its purpose.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Flower eagerly said from under my hooves, stretching hers to snatch the gem from me.

“Wait, Flower, I said that I don’t know what enchantment it holds. And do you remember what happened last time?” I still had no idea what was happening in Archivarius’ head, but I was pretty sure that if I made the crystal explode like what happened in Flower’s shack, he would call all the Royal Guard in the city and also personally hunt me until the end of my days for violating his precious archives.

“It may contain something very important, like your last message or something,” the filly retorted. “Don’t you want to know?”

I absolutely craved to know, more than anything else. I didn’t know anything about my past “future” or why and how I attempted a transference. And I was one hundred and twenty percent sure that the crystal didn’t end up inside my body by accident. Somepony left a message to be heard either by me after the transference attempt or by anypony who found it in the case of failure. Ironically, I happened to be both, strange as it might sound.

I glanced at Archivarius, but he was silent and almost expressionless, besides the curiosity in his eyes. Our eyes met and he gave me a very small nod.

“Alright, let’s hope it’s worth it.”

I breathed in deeply and exhaled (Goddesses, it felt so good to finally be able to do it) and pressed the smaller gem in the casing which I hoped was the activating one – my memory was a bit fuzzy about such contraptions.

To my great relief, nothing exploded and the crystal remained in my hooves steadily, simply glowing and emanating faint static. However, after a few moments the audio message began to play.

“I haven’t used these recording gems for so long, I almost forgot how to enchant them.” I didn’t recognize it immediately, but it was my own voice! A bit hoarse and sounding very tired, but it was still me.

“Weren’t you supposed to say the date and other boring stuff before you start? You are getting old, Twily.” Moondancer! She sounded mostly the same, a bit different in fashion, as I did. And then I realised – in that recording both Moonie and I sounded old.

“So are you!” My voice barked back at Moonie. Did I become a grumpy old mare? Such a shame it didn’t have a date to know when it was happening.

“Sheesh, relax,” Moondancer replied. “Stop being so nervous – it will all work perfectly.”

“Yeah, and then I will throw you a party!” Pinkie! I hadn’t heard or seen her in ages! If Moonie and I sounded old, and the war did not last for a long time after the last thing I remembered, then it meant she survived. Speaking of old – Pinkie’s voice was a bit different too – more low now. “‘Welcome-to-a-new-body Party’!” That made me chuckle. She might sound older, but it was still the same Pinkie. “Wait, does it count like a second birthday? Do I need to plan two birthdays for you from now on? Twice as many parties!” With her last words, her voice faded away as if she walked, no, hopped away. I felt a prick in my proverbial heart. I missed her so much. I missed all of them.

“You know, you can at least try not to look so gloomy and wish us luck,” Moonie spoke again, addressing somepony else.

“I’m still not certain about these enchantments. Many ponies have tried to achieve immortality, but it doesn’t work through conventional magic.” That mare’s voice I didn’t recognize, though it sounded somewhat familiar. I was sure I had heard it before, but I couldn’t remember who it belonged to for the life of me. The fact that it also had a strange echoing, distorted quality to it wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“It’s not immortality, it’s a transference,” Moondancer calmly retorted.

“There is no reason for it not to work.” ‘I’ didn’t sound that serene, however. “We all checked them – they are impeccable, just like the gems,” ‘I’ snapped at the unknown voice.

“And we are going to check them again, right before the experiment is going take place,” Moonie said, in placating tone, most probably addressing me and not the unknown mare.

“It's not about how correctly they were cast, it's about the enchantments themselves.” The mysterious speaker wasn’t as irritated as ‘I’ sounded, more pleading than anything else. “I still think you should have included all of my suggestions.”

“No way! No dark magic!” ‘I’ began to outright yell. “Look at what they have done to you!” What? What were they talking about? Who was that pony?

“At least they worked,” the unknown mare grumbled, and added, “if it was so easy to make what you want to, then we would be surrounded by undying ponies.”

“You almost sound like you don’t want us to succeed.” Now even Moondancer sounded a bit cross.

“It’s because I want you to, I’m doing this,” exclaimed the mysterious mare in exasperation. “It’s just… one can’t bend Harmony’s rules using its own tools!”

“We are not resorting to dark magic!” ‘My’ anger was incoercible, however. Was that who I became by the end of ‘my’ life? A hysterical old mare? “Nothing good ever comes out of that!”

“Alright, alright, we are all nervous, but we need to stop this bickering. It is too late to change anything anyway.” Moondancer, judging by the sound of hooves shuffling, had positioned herself betwixt me and that mare. Though, I could only guess that. “Listen, if something happens and we were wrong, then you can do whatever you deem necessary. Do you agree, Twi?” Her voice sounded louder and clearer as she addressed ‘me’.

“Fine,” came an answer accompanied by the sound of a mane blown out of eyes, “there isn’t going to be any need for that, anyway.”

“Now let’s go and have a party with Pinkie,” continued Moondancer, “she has even managed to get a cake somewhere...”

The sound of hooves clopping on the floor fading away signified a logical, and a few moments later, with a sharp crack of static, physical end of the recording.

It… was something. More questions than answers, as usual. A lot of new information to process. Suddenly I noticed that the silence which took reign after the recording had ended stretched for far too long – nopony said a single word. In fact, Flower, Del and Archivarius were staring at me with wide eyes.

I looked over myself and duly noted that I was glowing. The crystal in my hooves remained dormant, but it had awakened something in my new body.

I could see something inside me was intaking magic and emanating it at the same time… it was as if I had magic in my control, except I didn’t. But… I could feel... something? Was it magic interacting with my inner workings? It felt almost the same way magic felt when I had my original body.

This body was as good as it could get, I suppose, but it was still wrong, I couldn’t wield magic – the horn on top my head was nothing but an aesthetic feature… or was it? Very carefully I concentrated on that feeling of a flow of the raw magical energy swirling around me, coming in and out of my body through the gaps in the plates. It wasn’t swirling chaotically, there was a pattern… out of the crystals I thought to be empty and into a shaft inside the horn. Yes, I could feel, albeit with great difficulty, that circuit. But how could it be possible? Of course, it had to be an acranium core inside the horn! But did it mean I could try and disrupt that circle and funnel it into a spell? I decided to give it a try.

And then there was an explosion.

Well, that didn’t work.

Or, rather, it did. In my excitement and obliviousness I committed the most basic of mistakes in magic – I funneled it into itself with a very predictable result. Thankfully, this equinoid body wasn’t too realistic, overwise I would have ended up with an inability to cast magic for a few days and a nasty headache. Though, the first repercussion was open to debate, if, of course, I somehow truly regained my magic in the first place.

And, most luckily, I didn’t shut down. But that was where any good outcomes from this mishap ended.

Because I wasn’t casting any particular spell, the explosion didn’t ignite or have any other unpleasant properties, but that was generously compensated for by the amount of sheer physical force emitted. So, the Archives were now a huge wreck, to say it lightly.

I was knocked back, and while I didn’t suffer any injuries, at least from what I could tell, it took me some time to untangle my limbs and regain a standing position. And by that moment I could hear the tinkling sound of broken crystals falling around me like glass rain.

Yeah, the Archives were totally ruined now. But that wasn’t what really bothered me at that moment. I swirled my head around looking for Tin Flower and Delight, for whom my mistake could have been much more harmful.

One thing I noted despite my worry – I could see in the dark now. Not as good as during the day, surely, but it was still better than nothing, because the explosion knocked the already modest lights out. However, even with my augmented vision I could see no equine silhouettes anywhere – standing upright or strewn on the floor.

“Twilight, up here!” came a call from the above. It was then I realised that I could hear a flapping of wings through the cacophony of the calamity taking place around me. I looked up.

Near the ceiling, Delight was hovering in the air, holding Flower in her hooves. To my immense relief they looked disheveled, but overwise unscathed. Though, there was still no sign of Archivarius, which was a good and bad thing at the same time. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but I wasn’t very keen on meeting him right now either.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind me I heard a loud bang.

“FREEZE!” An angry voice, distorted and artificially magnified came from the remains of the entrance door.

I turned around and to my horror I saw the armor-like uniforms of police, four ponies scanning the room with beams of light coming from flashlights. Attached to the barrels of guns.

Either it was Archivarius’ doing, or, most likely, the explosion was noticed from the outside. Anyway, it was a huge problem. I had an ID, a new body, but how was I going to explain nearly destroying the Archives? Not to mention that I still had the “magic contamination” of my crystals. Slowly, panic began to rise in me.

“Twilight, to the windows!” Del loudly whispered to me, while swooping over my head in the direction opposite to the policeponies. I had no choice but to follow her.

With the very first step I stepped on the half-broken gem on the floor, pulverizing it with a loud crunching noise. Instantly, the beams of light focused on me.

I remembered that those flashlights were attached to firearms a moment too late. I tried to dash behind the nearest fallen shelf, but I already heard loud bangs of guns fired. They were almost instantly followed by a tinking sound of bullets ricocheting from the metal racks and my body, joined by the explosions of concrete near my rear hooves.

Oh, right, I was metal now. But still, those plates weren’t very thick and there were gaps in them as well. I’d better not risk it.

“It’s a fucking tinhead, don’t waste the bullets you moron!” I heard behind me after the firing ceased. “Prepare the EMPs!”

The what? An Engineering Modification Proposal? An Experimentation Master Plan? Though, I didn’t really want to find out what it was. But I didn’t have a choice, it seemed, because just a few moments later a metal cylinder flew over my head and landed right in front of me. I stared at it for a blink of an eye before it came to me – explosives. Explosives! I tried to turn around and jump behind some cover, but, again, I was too late.

A wave of iridescent glow rapidly expanded from it, enveloping everything around, including me. For a single moment my vision was filled with static, just when the wave touched me. But that was it. Nothing followed that wave and I didn’t feel any change. Maybe it didn’t work? I wasn’t going to try it again, however. I madly dashed forward, to where Delight and Flower were supposedly waiting for me. Unfortunately, I not only couldn’t fly, but my magic accident had knocked some racks over, creating obstacles on my way. The crystals and their shards strewn all over the floor, threatening to make me slip, weren’t helping either.

Obviously, my movement didn’t go undetected.

“Why the fuck is it still moving?” an angered yell came from the same barking police officer. “After it!”

That made me speed up in my navigation through the wreck. To my luck, I all but crashed into Del and Flower after another turn.

“Hurry up!” Delight said before I could even open my mouth, and flew out the window, still holding Flower in her hooves.

How was I supposed to follow them? I looked out and realized that I was on the first floor actually, and the only reason Delight used her wings was to avoid the razor sharp glass shards still remaining in the window frame. Using Del’s advice, wasting no time, I smashed through them and landed on the pavement below, sending sparks flying from under my hooves.

I looked around – we were in the middle of a small street, a moderately lively one, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. I could clearly see the policeponies wading through the crowd from their vehicles not far away. We were being surrounded, and at any moment four more “law” enforcers would jump out right behind us.

We couldn’t run, we couldn’t fight back. What were our options? My mind was running. I could see panic in Del’s and Flower’s eyes – they didn’t seem to have any ideas either. “They”… The police were after me, not some pegasus and a filly. And one of them could fly…

“Del,” -I grabbed her by the shoulder- “take Flower and flee to the Edge!” I yelled at her.

Both hers and Flower’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“But what about you!?” cried Flower, grabbing me in return.

I couldn’t be shot, well, not immediately. There was a chance those “EMP’s” weren’t actually working on me, and I might have an ability to cast magic again. For me it wasn’t a completely hopeless situation.

For them – it was a “death sentence or the Crystal Mines if they are lucky enough to choose”. And that was if the police didn’t just shoot them where they were.

“I will be alright,” I lied. Most likely I wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter. “I will meet you there. Now, go!”

Del, probably realising that she could be shot if she lingered any longer, gave me a nod and swooped Flower from her hooves, before she could say anything or have any second thought. They shot upwards and soon were lost amidst the reflections of the neon.

I was on my own again. That didn't end very well for me last time, though now I knew more and I had a new body. And maybe magic. Maybe. But right now I simply had to run.

I picked a direction which seemed to have fewer policeponies and began to pick up speed.

The thoroughfare wasn’t very crowded, so the ponies were yielding right out of my way. Some didn’t, and I knocked them back, thanks to my superior mass. One time I even thought I heard a crack of bones breaking, but I didn’t have time to check on them.

Suddenly a policepony appeared before me seemingly out of nowhere. I skidded in my tracks, not wishing to try my luck with ramming into them. They (or rather, he, judging by the square jaw poking from under the black visor of the helmet) sneered and instantly pulled a gun on me. A few shots went wide and I heard screams behind me – of pain and of panic. One bullet found its target and ricocheted from my breast plate with a spark – where my heart once was. Realizing that I was no pony, the officer pulled out a familiar cylinder and threw it in my direction, but I was on the run already.

I left him behind and resumed running down the street. That wasn’t a very good plan, frankly. I didn’t know where I was, so at this moment I could be running in the wrong direction. Even if I was running towards the Edge, sooner or later the police would catch up with me. And they would either bring bigger guns, like the one I saw on top of the hovering vehicle during the raid, or use who knows what else they had to bring me down. Not to mention that I couldn’t just go straight to the Edge from the city – the only way for me to cross the wall was underneath it. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to dive into the Tunnels again. And the Goddesses knew I didn’t, not in the slightest.

As I was dashing forward with all the delicacy and speed of a train, I was looking for the sight of alcoves, where hatches leading underground seemed to often be.

Yes! I could see one. I took a sharp turn and almost fell – I still needed to get used to that much weight. To my dismay, as I approached the trapdoor in the middle of the short deserted backstreet, I saw that it was not only closed, but crudely welded. There was no chance to pry it open with my bare hooves – there was nothing left to take hold of, and I didn’t know the power my pneumatic limbs held. Now wasn’t the time to test their resistance limits either. However, I had something else now, right?

I concentrated on my horn and the crystals inside me and felt the same circuit flowing through my body. Alright, no disrupting it this time. But what I was supposed to do? I focused and mentally tried to expand it onwards without breaking, like a huge loop of arcane energy. So far, nothing had exploded. I carefully guided the protuberance until it reached the hatch and to my joy I saw it being enveloped in the familiar pink glow.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” a cry came from behind me and my concentration broke. I swirled around, my metal tail scraping the concrete, producing a rain of sparks.

“A socket fucker! With the fucking magic!” A policepony, a stallion with a bushy grey beard sounded genuinely surprised, but it didn’t last long. He pulled an “EMP” cylinder out of a belt with many other and threw it my way. “How do you like them apples?”

In the short and narrow passage there was no place to hide or even dodge that thing. I still tried to jump away, but my back pressed into the wall. With horror I watched the multicolored wave reach to me and wash over, causing a single moment of static, like the previous time. And nothing else happened. I still had no idea what goal EMP’s were supposed to achieve, but apparently it didn’t happen, because I saw the grin on the policepony’s muzzle morph into a slack jaw of amazement.

I didn’t waste a moment, though. The “EMP’s” didn’t work on me, but I had a suspicion that those police armors might have strengthening exoskeletons – a guess I didn’t want to have proven by this stallion tackling me to the ground. Also, from this distance he could simply shoot me in the joints or eyes. I didn’t want to find out how old age reflected on his sharpshooting abilities.

Still not used to my strange magical ability, I improvised – I hooked the slack of it around his hooves and yanked them out, making the stallion drop on the ground with a loud clatter.

I left the elder policepony behind and began to rocket down the street once again, looking to the sides in search of another indent in this concrete and glass maze. Soon enough another pocket appeared in my sight and I rushed to it as fast as my metal hooves would allow.

Deserted, narrow, short, with garbage containers. Nothing new, except the hatch wasn’t welded this time. Actually, it was once, but somepony undid it, leaving deep jagged marks. That didn’t matter right now. I threw it open and paused for a moment.

I looked up, at the cloudy sky and the bright neon signs. It wasn’t much, but neither the Tunnels nor the Edge had even that. I took a deep breath, steeled myself and began my descent.

Author's Notes:

Alrighty, so here goes chapter 7. Because of the holidays and whatnot it took a bit longer than usual.
Recently I've made a blog post dedicated to the progress of the story. In short words - chapters 8 and 9 are done and being edited. Chapter 10 is cooking, more than half-way done, actually. You may expect a few short stories in the nearest future.
Aside from that I don't have much too say, nothing new happened over the last week.

Once upon a time Gekasso made a blog dedicated to illustrations for Aftersound, but everything changed when the fire nation attacked. So, that Tumblr page is now dead and I've uploaded all the images here.

Aftersound Project Discord server -DO IT! Just do it! Don't let your dreams be dreams.

As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

Chapter 8 – Bitter dreams, sweet nightmares

The Tunnels readily greeted me with near darkness and overwhelming fetor even before I reached the last steps of the rusty staircase. Though, I was almost ready for that. Almost.

From all I had seen so far, the underground world of Canterlot appeared to be absolved of any law and order, at least of that imposed by police forces. However, I didn’t know that for sure, so I continued to move hastily, in case I was still pursued. The stairs led me directly to a narrow passage, which in its turn opened into a wider tunnel – the outline I was already familiar with.

The wide and tall vaulted tunnel was moderately crowded, basically the same as I had seen before, while travelling with the zebras. I glanced over my shoulder, but saw no pursuit. Still, deciding not to risk it, I picked a direction at random, turned left and began to trot ahead. How ironic: not long ago I despised the Tunnels as a sanctuary for outlaws and outcasts, but now I had become one of them.

The ponies and equinoids I was passing by barely paid me any attention. Some gave me short curious glances, but I guess for most of the Tunnel dwellers I was just an average equinoid in slightly too good condition and with a bit of an unusual design. In my turn, I was more attentive towards my surroundings. Now that I didn’t have to keep pace with the long-legged zebras, I was able to take a closer look at the underground life, though to a limited extent. I didn’t want to be nosey after all, or I might have ended up in trouble.

The first thing I noticed, while still being decadent, the public, and the Tunnels themselves, didn’t look as bad as they did closer to the Edge. No more very sickly looking ponies lay on the grated floor amongst those who lost the battle to illness or met their terrible demise any other way. The traders, who were a less common sight here, didn’t have artificial internal organs put on their makeshift trading displays. Overall, the assortment of merchandise looked less like just some junk and more like actual modern and complex devices. Even the drugs, if that was actually what they were, appeared to be of a higher quality – assorted in clean glass vials and plastic containers, each labeled with a colorful sticker.

One thing, however, didn’t change much – most of the ponies, those who weren’t on their way somewhere, were residing in the shadows between the islands of light provided by unbroken lamps, busy with all conventional sorts of pastimes.

Devices projecting translucent forms in the air were abundant amongst the throng resting near the walls. Those magic images of neon blue, pink and acid green were like small bonfires, lighting up the faces of ponies gathered around them in small circles. A few of those apparitions resembled plans and maps of some enormous multi-level structures – maybe even the Tunnels themselves. Though, I feared to approach the owners of those schemes – they all were ponies, and in here not a single pony could be seen sitting beside their artificial counterparts. In other cases, the arcane projections seemed to be figures of ponies, sometimes moving on their own will, and sometimes appearing to be controlled by the ponies who were near the projectors, or at least, that was what I thought.

Those projecting devices weren't the only things casting light on their muzzles, tearing off the veil of darkness obscuring the ponies. Square displays flashing with content unknown to me were spilling forth their eerie everchanging shining. I would say that those were more dominant, and not just in their abundance; staring at a screen was the most widespread activity the Tunnel dwellers were immersed in.

I also noted that even the cigarettes were replaced. Instead of the cylinders of tobacco wrapped in paper, ponies held in hooves and magic much bulkier things, devices of metal and plastic, which seemed served a similar role. Round or square, shining with little spark-like lamps or just with reflections on polished metal, they all worked the same. Ponies were bringing them to their lips and inhaling, making the devices faintly hiss for an instant. Then, huge and dense clouds of smoke would leave their lungs and slowly dissipate in the surrounding air, often creating a small area of fog around the most zealous groups of smokers. To my surprise, when I happened to pass through one such eddy, I discovered that it wasn’t actually smoke – it didn’t smell of anything burned, instead it had a soft aroma of candy and herbs. That new tendency was sure peculiar, but I had trouble finding it unpleasant.

For me, as a traveler from the distant past, modern life was very intriguing. Especially since every, even the smallest, aspect of it seemed to have changed to some degree. Now, when I was almost mingling with that new strange world by merit of my appearance, I had the freedom to study it as I wished. But I had no time. Clandestine Delight and Tin Flower were somewhere at the Edge, at the Junkyard to be exact, waiting for me. If they made it, of course. Like with Flower and Wire not long ago, I couldn’t know that for sure. The police weren’t interested in them, which was also up for debate, but even if that was true, they both had to travel across half of the city and straight to the Edge. And the final part of that journey lay underground in the most vile part of the Tunnels I had seen so far. It all certainly wasn’t the same as two fillies running from an insane murderous pegasus to unfamiliar territory, but it was still risky. Speaking of which, Pepper Mercury was most probably still out there, fighting to seize control of all the Junkyard furnaces. There were dozens of reasons why I should have been stressing out right now, but experience taught me that I couldn't afford to in this Equestria. I was constantly running out of time, and despite how much I wanted to find a corner to just sit down and scream my head off in the frustration of adversity after adversity being thrown at my face, I had to act.

My goal at the moment was rather simple: get to the Edge, find my friends. But, of course, it only sounded simple. I didn’t know where I was exactly, and thus I didn’t know how to get where I wanted. My last experience with asking directions showed me that it was an endeavour with a very low success rate, not to mention another problem. While equinoids too were making their way through the subterrestrial paths and even sometimes, though very rarely, hiding in the shadows, there was a clearly visible segregation between them and ponies who had their bodies (well, most of their bodies) made of organic matter. The equinoids were tolerated, but even that often seemed to be strained; any glance exchanged between the artificial life and not was usually full of malice.

So, since I couldn’t ask ponies without risk of inciting a conflict, I had to approach their steel and plastic counterparts. I surely could do that, however, it wouldn’t really solve my problem. Considering how deep in the city I was and how labyrinthine the Tunnels were, I had the feeling that I would have to do that more than once before I even got to the part where the Edge started. I had to stop being dependent on guides, I needed a map. And I thought I might have found a solution for that, even though accidentally.

At some point during my semi-aimless wandering through the underground an image, a translucent section of a circle appeared in the corner of my vision, followed by the words: “A new network has been found. Connect to it now?” At first I thought it was one of those projections which were entertaining my present company, but as the little pictogram moved along with the movements of my head and eyes, I realized my mistake. Curious to find what it could possibly mean, I began to look for a place where I could sit undisturbed. A “network”? There was something promising in that. Might it be how everypony navigated these places? Anyway, very soon I found a desolate alcove formed by two large heaps of trash, submerged in the shadow of a broken lamp.

Despite the numerous rats digging in the two piles, the stench was bearable, almost nonexistent. Either that garbage was put here not so long ago or everything that could stink had been eaten away by rats, or rotted away.

I sat in the darkness and looked around – nopony paid any attention to me. Good. I saw movement at my hooves. A young rat, its little black beady eyes glimmering with the neon reflections above the ever shifting pink nose studied me intently. Somehow, the sight warmed my heart. It was something familiar, after all the vermin scarcely change. It was something natural, though back in my times rats wouldn’t come to my mind as the first example of nature, I would rather be disgusted. Not interested by my non-living, non-edible body, the creature scurried away. Alright, no more distractions.

I sat unmoving and stared ahead. Erm… what I was supposed to do, again? The image and the message still were in the corner of my vision, but I couldn’t focus on them, no matter how I swirled my head or eyes. I began to feel dumb. Was I even supposed to interact with such things? After all I was a pony and my mind could be different to that of the true equinoids who were created to fit their mechanical bodies in the perfect conjugation of metal and thought.

Okay. I calmed down my rising frustration and began to think. If it appeared, it was part of the machine I occupied as my body, right? It wasn’t a part of my mind, that’s for sure. I controlled my body, so if it was part of it, I should have been able to control it too, like my limbs. How did I do that? Magic. To be honest, when it was put that way, that sounded a bit silly. Did I need to cast some sort of spell to connect to that network? Networksitis Connectia? Was it even meant for equinoids in the first place? Ugh, it was so confusing.

I let out a deep sigh, reveling in my ability to do that. Those little things, how relaxing they were. You would start to appreciate them only when they were gone. But I was digressing.

So, I obviously needed to use magic to make things work, but it didn’t necessary have to be a spell, I thought. My mind was magic itself, and in the case of equinoids it was true as well. What were we if not living magic contained inside the gems encased into pony-like contraptions? That was something we shared despite our origin. Like the ancient magic golems, but much more complex. Suddenly, it dawned on me: my thoughts were probably repeating the same path they did five centuries ago, when “Twilight Sparkle was a scientist who made great contributions to the development of AI.” I gasped. Did… did I create the equinoids?

At this moment, it was a thought too huge to comprehend, too great to embrace at once. I began to hyperventilate, and though it could have no actual effect on me, my head began to spin. The responsibility, the consequences, the implications…

I gulped and tried to calm myself. I didn’t know. No. I couldn’t know. The Archives were incomplete, they were full of disinformation. I might have been the one who set the path without the intent of creating a conceptually new form of life, and it was only those who followed it who created the first cybernetic organisms. Or I might not have even had my hoof in that at all. That thought placated me at last, allowing me return to my current predicament. But deep inside, I could feel that I somehow was involved in it.

My mind controlled my body. My mind was the magic. So the magic controlled the body. Like a spell cast, but not by my horn to affect the world outside. A spell cast by my “mind’s horn” to affect my little world – my body.

I concentrated, focusing my consciousness on that image of quarter circle with words, and to my immense joy it flashed and streams of sentences appeared before my eyes.
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>Connecting to ”cog_scrape_ur_faget”
>Connected
>Signal strength: good
>Frequency: 2.4 GHz
>Security: none

Below that I could see “Advanced” as an option to focus on, which upon concentrating revealed more lines with some things like IP and MAC addresses, gateway and DNS with numbers following them. However, if it even was a map, I couldn’t read it. Maybe it was the coordinates? Even if that was true, they were useless to me at this moment.

It was a success on one hoof, but that didn’t solve my problems. What if…? I concentrated my “inner magic” and thought, “Map”. To my amazement, a line containing that word appeared in the box at the bottom of my vision, it flashed and a few moments later my vision was filled with lists of entries under the title “Equi-neT. BackRub search engine”.

I carefully studied the list. All those entries were offering to “download” different maps with short descriptions of their merits, like being up to date, having more levels of the Tunnels than any other or just being fully interactive. The one that caught my eye had a feature that attracted me the most. “Includes even the Edge’s regions” the advertisement claimed.

Before I concentrated on it, I let my mind wander for a few moments. So, the so called network was like public archives of some sort. If I didn’t have so little time at my disposal, I surely would have browsed them for the information I had failed to find in the actual archives. It also seemed that the access was granted via some specific points in the city, maybe something like the servers in the Royal Archives. But all the science was unknown to me. After I got to Flower and Delight, I would surely ask them both about it and try to access the network again. Right now, I had a map to acquire and follow.

I concentrated on the entry and was brought to another screen, which to my horror was filled with animated images of outright pornography taking up every space available. I almost began to backpedal on reflex from that assault of indecency, but then I noticed a large box with the word “download” amidst the chaos of lewd images. As fast as I could, I focused on it, and another box appeared: “Do you want to save autoinstaller_v3.14.exe?” Yes! Yes, I did, just make it all go away! However, that didn’t clear the screen, still making me witness the vast variety of hard erotica.

“Close the entry,” I commanded with the magic, but nothing happened. “Close!” I thought again in panic, and finally, to my immense relief, nothing but the reality of the surrounding tunnel was left in my sight.

Phew. I better be careful next time with the network. Apparently, by being public, it contained… all sorts of things. But where was I? Right – the map. “Autoinstaller_v3.14.exe”, I thought, hoping that it would bring up the map, but instead a box, asking if I wanted to run the file appeared. Well, yes, of course, I did. I waited patiently, but to my dismay nothing happened.

I waited a bit more and suddenly my vision swam for a moment, colors twisting so fast that I was barely capable of noticing it. The walls and equines around me began to defragment, like a picture cut with scissors, thoses piece jerking around, transforming into each other, fading to grey and white or flaring with tints they didn’t have originally. Strange sounds permeated my hearing, words whispered and screamed so fast I couldn’t discern them. Synthetic noises, followed by the screech of metal against metal and returning to unnatural dissonant notes. I began to feel very strange – dizzy would be the closest to describe that. My knees buckled under me. What was happening? Something went horribly wrong, I began to realize, but my mind was becoming more and more sluggish with every passing moment. I turned my head at the sudden movement in the corner of my eye and saw Spike walking towards me.

>Lick yourself a ball of organobiotic glue, drenched with equine genome sequences and mechanised DNA tendrils. Inject sponsorship pixels through a binary needle. Mold a son, designed 2 expel annoying prototypologees and shifting character/floating nuances. Will you be happy then?

“What’s that for?” I asked Spike as he waddled up the stairs. On the end of his tail crumpled red and gold remains of something were impaled.

“Well, it was a gift for Moondancer,” he replied, taking in his claws what I could see now was a completely ruined box. I almost rolled my eyes at that. A stuffed toy fell from it, ruined too. “But…” he finished lamely.

“Oh, Spike, you know we don’t have time for that sort of thing.” The very fate of Equestria was at stake! I had to find that copy of “Predictions and Prophecies”, Nightmare Moon was about to return. And nopony seemed to care!

“No. No. No!” I muttered to myself in irritation each time my magic whisked a wrong book from the shelves.

The Elements of Harmony, the most powerful magic known to ponydom and they were the only thing that could thwart the disaster, apparently. An ancient instrument, its origins and principles of work might be a mystery, but the artifact’s potency was no secret. It was supposed to defeat any foe.

“No! No. No...” I muttered to myself in horror as I watched black tears stream down Cadence’s face.

Why didn’t they work? It was supposed to be so simple a mission: get to the Crystal Empire, use the Elements on the evil king, go back to trying to keep Equestria from falling apart. We even had Cadence and my brother with us… Then why did it go so wrong? I knew something was amiss. If only She was alive…

Everypony was utterly terrified, huddled together on the crystal floor, right behind my sister-in-law, before the sea of vile living shadows. The only thing preventing it from swallowing us was the magical shield cast by Cadence, a shimmering wall. But it wouldn’t last forever, the exertion caused by the spell was just as clearly written across her features as the pain – sweat mixing with the crimson blood of wounds and the black of the curse; shaking knees, about to buckle at any moment; the cracks in the gleaming sheet, appearing and then knitting themselves together more and more often, each time slower and weaker.

Then Cadence began to scream. It sounded like a howl of anguish, which echoed with whimpers of horror against my friends, until I realized that she was trying to yell, “Run”. My blood froze in my veins. How could we? I would rather take Cadence’s place than leave her there. But… what else could we do? The backlash from the Elements left us weakened, and I doubted I could do anything even if that hadn’t happened. We vastly underestimated how powerful Sombra’s magic was. And I was a scholar, not a battle mage. Nevertheless, it wasn’t my call to make.
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>The need for optimum integration... To use the organic entity that I am... Caught in a pulse of wet media I like to be what I am... An architecture to serve agency... Living flesh with an inside and an outside... Bare speeding through virtual fever... An error has been detected in your consciousness... All her bioports scream long dark strings of unnamed code...

I gave Shining Armor a quick glance and flinched like I was hit. His face was contorted in the agony of a heart being torn apart – a fierce battle raged inside of him. A soldier was calling for the only reasonable thing in this situation – for retreat; a husband was threshing against any logic, because that meant leaving behind his beloved to the mercy of the most vile foe we ever knew.

He caught my eyes and in them I saw everything: the pain, the fury… the betrayal. The soldier won. It took all my will to not avert my gaze. In the corners of my vision I could see everypony and Spike looking at him with tears in their eyes. They waited for him to make the choice, though the tears betrayed that they already knew what it would be.

Shining dashed to Cadence, but stopped a mere length away from her, not wanting to risk disrupting her magic. He outstretched his hoof and it was met by the shaking pink wing.

“We will return, I promise,” he whispered loud enough for her to hear him over the roar of magic duel. “I will return!” he then bellowed to the darkness beyond the magic glow, to the glowing red, purple and green eyes in the heart of it.

And then I ran.
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>incoherent vectors let the journey begin the way is misty hard to trace take soft slow steps accompanied by the unfettered laughing of mares
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>resembling the body called flesh search for beauty without features stay on the path till you arrive be speechless no write no reason all sewn up and no place to go... city of ruined children

I blindly galloped through the dark corridors, bumping into the shadows inhabiting them. I ran from the darkness following my steps, from the nightmare which became reality. From the reality which became a nightmare. What was happening to me? Crystal halls mingled with rusty tunnels. Where was I? Corpses of those who had fallen to the dark magic and corpses of those who had fallen to the plights of the underground, almost indistinguishable save for the rare golden gleam of the equestrian armor, blackened by burns or cursed blood smeared across, or the rust covering everything in this cursed Empire of Death. The dark silhouettes, oscillating with shadow magic, unstable forms looking like ponies, knitted from an obsidian vapor. Some were like wraiths with eyes aglow, some were striped giants muttering in a broken language, some were like reanimated skeletons, they were all pushing me away, kicking me, soundlessly screaming at me. Down! Down the stairs, away from the Crystal Palace! Away from the underground! It was Sombra’s army around – greed and wickedness materialized into umbral equines to sow suffering. They were the ponies, zebras and equnoids of the Tunnels.
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>The monochrome of the artificial blood vessel masses of flesh of the angel mechanism that transcends... the clone colts and fillies who suck the nude of the cyber be like the body fluid that electrolyzed it.
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>I escape... the sensitive body of vision... you in the world that was done a junk from the blue machine of that sky is stored and see that does dive to the tragic reproduction nature of the clone colts and fillies that of our vital chromium...

I couldn’t grasp reality. Only the tiniest fraction of my consciousness was aware of something going terribly wrong with me. And even that part was like a candle in the storm, its flame flickering and madly dancing from the onslaught of madness, engulfing me from the inside and outside of the fevered nightmare I was having.
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>Untitled ... phone system/ network as possible ... eclecticism and code-mixing ... our data sug ... Is Computer Hacking a ... Culture, Language, and Society. Menlo ... 0000. VIRUS Protection not found...

Where was Princess Luna when I needed her the most? She was supposed to deal with that, right? She had to know something about dark magic. We would have a chance with her, but she remained in Canterlot, scouring every corner of the Palace for changeling spies. And now she was dead, everypony was dead... Somepony screaming… Cadence… no… we left her, betrayed her, and now she was dead. The Princesses, all gone…

Something struck me, so hard that I was knocked down. That savage blow brought me a singular moment of clarity. A momentary respite from the phantasmagory which my world suddenly became.

“Will you shut the fuck up already?” an angry metal voice grated above me. “Fucking tinheads…”

It was me screaming all that time...

I was lying on the dirty floor, still somewhere in the Tunnels. I rose to my hooves, my limbs barely obeying my reeling mind. Everything swam before my eyes, from the blur I saw equine silhouettes around, they were all looking at me, blaming me. There were less of them than before. Was it Spike who spooked them away?

“Spike! Spiiike!” I called. Damn, I needed that book, I needed to warn them all… to save them…
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>How can you pretend to resemble the body called flesh in this shattered universe? Don’t u see that the segments adrift in the network are injuring your sensible skin? Don’t you see you have NO FUTURE NON HAI FUTURO... THE PAST slowly kills us... The shadow of a hirsute code – first mare goddess is coming from the nights of time, she is following us through a line of blood cause she is hungry and she has to eat... There is No Escape Function... The modem is Burning... I’m looking for a white rabbit to eat but it is hiding... How can you pretend to resemble the body called flesh in this shattered universe?

I gasped as the rusted reality rushed back at me. I had to do something… I tried to take a step, but fell on the floor in the explosion of reddish dust. Everything seemed to slow down, every dark mote glistening, turning into a speck of blood. The red rained around me, deathly tears of all those who I had failed... Again, I propelled myself up, this time supporting myself with my hoof against the nearest wall. I glanced at it, a huge, worn out and discolored number “3” was painted on it. In my stupor I looked at it and the metal surface flickered, a wall of crystal taking its place. I had to run! Away from Sombra!

I ran from the murderous mare, who killed her father without a moment of hesitation. I turned back and saw a silhouette, the feral eyes, looking at me with murderous intent. Gore and blood dripping from the metal wings, gathering in a pool on the charred floor. Corpses strewn everywhere on the crystal floor… Sombra killed them all… so much blood, the walls, the floor, the ceiling – all red. Corroded, decaying… Rust was claiming Equestria, it was turning into ashes... I looked at my limbs, just as red, from the blood of the countless ponies I let down. Who would have known I could have failed...
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>The massacre and reproduction of an artificial ant it inherited... the vision that was put to reflein of... instantaneous target ruin the terrible [__] condition/ of the love noise fly of the pituitary where hardened to together! God of et cetera... it beats... it beats comfortably... null of a gene. 012,345,678 Internal organ of a dog.

I stumbled, fell again. My hoof caught something. I turned to look and I shrieked in horror – they were my own internal organs! In a panic I began to try and grab them from the crystal floor with my hooves, but my limbs went through them… my hooves were dissolving into rust before my very eyes. I began to scream again, a shrill sound of metal twisted. The light flickered… it wasn’t my intestines, it was cables sparking and tubes leaking oil on the dirty rusty floor. My gaze dashed to my belly, but it was intact, the metal plates evenly aligned to each other.

Not bothering to stand up, I curled up where I fell, sobs without tears began to wreck my body. What was wrong with me? Nothing was making sense anymore. I was sure I was in the Crystal Palace, cursed by Sombra one moment, driven mad by dark magic, the next I was realizing I was hallucinating somewhere in the Tunnels for a reason unknown. And then all was gone, the line between reality and nightmares disappearing into nothing, leaving me drowning in insanity.

I noticed some black liquid pooling in the darkness before me at the same time as I heard a gurgle somewhere behind me. Alerted, I turned back and saw her again – Pepper Mercury, all covered in blood standing over a mangled agonizing body… a pink alicorn… Cadence… The steel-winged pegasus was gazing at me from the darkness with eyes full of hatred, glowing with red, green and purple flames. I scrambled to my hooves and began to run away.

I was dashing through the arched passages of the Crystal Palace, taking turns into the rusted tunnels, away from the death. After what felt like hours, I finally dared to glance back.

She was there, like I hadn’t moved at all. The gore-covered face grinned, flashing sharpened fangs and from under a bloodied wing the shining cylinder of a gun barrel appeared. I jumped away, but was too late – a shadowy wave of Sombra’s magic hit me like a train, sending me tumbling forward.

Not bothering about my fate anymore I lay on the floor in a tangle of limbs, sobbing, praying for that all to just end, no matter how. In the rare moments of lucidity I was trying to get up, but each time, before I could achieve something, my surroundings changed from blackened crystals to rusty metal, sending my senses into disarray.

Finally, the floor became concrete covered in red dust and it didn’t change for some time. Did it pass? Was it over? Unsteadily, I got up. I was in an empty narrow tunnel, illuminated by only two lamps, one flickering madly. Underneath it somepony stood. Or so I thought – a figure was there sometimes, appearing in the light far too briefly to discern any details. Then the light would blink and the pony would disappear, leaving the empty patch of the floor. The next flash of the broken lamp – a figure was there again.

I took a step back. The pony followed, I could see the movement in the dark, hear the heavy metal sound of hooves on the floor. Again I stepped back, and the dark form came into the light. I stood paralyzed, shaking so hard I could hear my body rattle.

A full-body bulky metal armor, twisted and burned, shining with a purple eerie glow from the tears and cracks. The wraith took another step, turning its side to me. A broken metal wing hung from it limply. Through a huge gash on the chest I could see charred flesh on the exposed yellow ribs. A huge torn gap on the back, showing semi-broken blackened vertebrae, gleaming with the same pulsing baleful purple light.

The pony just stood there for a few moments, the head concealed by a conical battered helmet turned to the wall, like the apparition forgot about my presence, if it was noticed in the first place. Then, unnaturally slowly the pony removed the helmet.

A pale, discolored face, furless, covered in burns and scars, with a dark webwork of black veins, and patches of necrosis. The nape absent at all, like it was torn away. Almost entirely burned away were the remains of the once polychromatic mane. Two empty eye sockets leaking pus met my eyes.

“Twilight,” Rainbow Dash rasped, “why did you kill me?”

>Untitled ... bulgara de virus ou como ... I’m hacking TECO.” Num ... text-only network channels, and ... nuances of language and very ... As in society at ... error code from ... new Data General ... etext.equ/Zines/ASCII/BeataElectrica/be00.txt - 61k - Cached - Similar pages >>>> Results 11 - 20 of about 3,830. Search took 0.39 seconds.

“Wow!” I heard Rainbow Dash say from somewhere in front of me. As always she was the first to escape the confines of the train cart. “What’s with all the guards?”

“I’m sure they are just taking the necessary precautions,” spoke Rarity who was near Rainbow – she had already exited the train along with Applejack, but I still waited my turn behind Pinkie and Fluttershy. “Royal weddings do bring out the strangest ponies.” And then Pinkie decided to stop at the entrance and sneeze confetti, ugh…

Finally, I could get out of the train. The others, however, didn’t wait and left me to catch up with them.

“Well, let’s get going, we’ve got work to do,” Rarity chirped and began to trot ahead, Rainbow, Pinkie and Fluttershy following her. She was quite familiar with Canterlot, so by unspoken agreement the fashionista took the mantle of guide, even though their destinations were a bit different. Only Applejack patiently waited for me.

“And you’ve got a big brother to go congratulate,” she said enthusiastically. Honestly, I would have prefered if she had followed the others.

“Yeah, congratulate.” My voice dripped with sarcasm I didn’t bother to contain. Now, when I was in Canterlot, my mood began to sour even further with each step. “And then give him a piece of my mind,” I said through my teeth as I passed betwixt two guards.

Actually, I relaxed a bit as I walked the streets of Canterlot alone. I loved my friends dearly, and I did appreciate their concern, but right now their support and sympathy felt like salt on a wound.
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>Serial number # 30000768008, qty. order: 1, date of order: 00.00.00. Description: Subliminal Ltd.; distributions dept; blood media; adoredbody. Payment: half-life; Tartarus Bank Visa # 5291.1517.7719.6526 33102

As I was covering the distance between the train station and the palace, seething and imagining indignant things I was about to say to my brother, I began to note something strange about my surroundings. There were guards everywhere, that was something expected, surely. But where were the ponies? I saw a few silhouettes in the distance, but other than that, the usually lively alleys of Canterlot were absolutely deserted. Not even a sound – no music of alfresco cafes, no din and chatter of city breathing, living. Even the colors seemed to pale. No decorations. Had they decided to have a military wedding or something?

By the moment I reached the palace, I was more concerned than perplexed. Its halls, always crowded with a vast variety of personnel and nobles were empty and silent. I expected to find Shining Armor at the barracks, but they were desolate as well. Even the guard was absent, which I found very strange, ridiculous even.

I began to wander the palace passages aimlessly in hope of finding anypony who could point me the way to my brother, but to no avail. Alright, to Princess Celestia, then. She was always there and I wanted to see her anyway, though I didn’t want to bother my tutor with such simple things.

I was nearing the great doors of the throne room when I finally saw somepony in one of the adjacent passages – just a shadow and sound of metalclad hooves clopping against the marble floor. I tried to follow it, but no matter how fast I moved, the shadow’s owner was always out of sight. At some point I even galloped, but to no avail. A couple of times I caught a glimpse of a multicolored tail or of white coat. Was it Princess Celestia herself?
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>When the thinking of 876,543,210 dogs is disillusioned at the sun our cadaver city the season when artificial ant iterates the grief of our cell that crowds to the coordinates of a cadaver city so erodes BODY of that is the script of clone colts and fillies to the chloroform and mystery, compact disk ROM and digital that paralyzed the dimension of sleep the vital... miracle junkie who was turned different...

Suddenly, the cold stone corridor opened up to a wide expanse of open sky and green garden. Absorbed in following that pony, I didn’t notice how I made it to the palace gardens. However, my mysterious guide was nowhere to be seen.

Ah, the gardens… Usually reserved for the princesses themselves they were always so peaceful and quiet, like an eye of a storm. How many times I had studied there, under the shadows of its beautiful trees, enjoying my solitude? But now I could see a small congregation of ponies in the distance, making some preparations for the wedding perhaps.

But as I neared the small crowd that guess seemed less and less probable. Ponies, some I even recognized as from the palace staff, stood still like statues, their expressions somber. What was happening? I couldn't see the reason of the gathering, but at the front rows I caught glimpses of my friends – Rainbow’s polychromatic mane had that effect.

Slowly and carefully, I made my way through the silent meeting. Before I even made it to my friends I saw the reason for the assemblage.

A casket.

An ornate, beautiful casket set at the respectful distance from rows and rows of ponies. All their eyes, which I only now noticed were wet with tears, were glued to a pony lying in it.

Princess Celestia.

She lay there, so peaceful and serene, as if she was merely asleep, which was only punctuated by the lack of the golden regalia. That reminded me of one time when I was just a filly, and I snuck into her chambers after the sunset, only to find her slumbering in the rays of the rising Moon. My mere presence woke her up and instead of chastising me she placated my worries and told me stories of her past, lulling me to sleep. Despite everything, I smiled.
.
>if ((light eq dark) && (dark eq light) && ($blaze_of_day{sun} == holy_light) && ($alabaster_wing{bright} == $tin{bright})){ my $love = $you = $cos{dawn} + 1; };

But then the realisation struck me. Princess Celestia. In the casket. That was impossible, she was a goddess, she was immortal! But the more I watched her immobile form the more real it was becoming.

Her mane didn’t flow anymore, the still strands were braided with flowers. The vibrant, and yet soft at the same time, colors of the dawn looked faded away, as if fog was obscuring the brilliance of a freshly born day. Even her pristine alabaster coat seemed dimmed, like the sun which always shone from inside her, through the immaculate white, had set. She looked so frail now, the Goddess of the Sun.

It couldn’t be real, yet it was.

Not caring anymore about the crowd, I galloped to my friends at the front row, pushing ponies from my path. Not a single complaint, nopony paid me any attention. Despite the tears streaking every face, not a single sob could be heard. Not a single sound, even the wind died, making the world mourn the setting of the Sun in absolute silence.

I looked at their faces, expressions of bottomless sorrow dominated all their features: Spike and Rarity gingerly holding his shoulder, Applejack with her hat in her hooves, Pinkie Pie with her mane straight, Fluttershy and Rainbow supporting each other… me with eyes bloodshot and hollow.

Wait… what? I was looking at myself standing amongst my friends, at the face with fur matted from the countless tears, at the messy mane of somepony who hadn’t slept in many nights. But if I was standing there, who was I? What was happening?

I looked over myself – limbs of metal, covered in scratches and rust. Black oil dripping on the lush green grass below. No…

I turned to the casket again, but it was empty. Bewildered, I swirled around, and right behind me She stood a few lengths away, a grand form against the crimson red sunset.

White fur covered with soot and speckled with fresh blood. A horn, black and cracked, though not broken. Mane and wings hanging limply. And those eyes, beautiful eyes. There was no disappointment, no blame in them, just the sadness, endless like Her beauty.

“Twilight,” Princess Celestia whispered, quietly and sorrowfully, “why did you let her kill me?”

I ran through the marble halls of the Royal Palace and the grimy concrete passages of the Tunnels, screaming, but from the pain this time, that one kind from which no matter what their body was made, a pony could never escape.

“By the Machine Goddess, what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want to lure the Souleater here or something?” a voice grumbled.

A hard blow. Sweet oblivion.
.
>"I was your resonance," I remembered one of us saying.
>Disconnection ... protocol authentication ... end transmission

I awoke somewhere in the Tunnels, in a heap of garbage, my eyes fluttered open, their shutters jerking paroxysmally up and down. In the back of my mind, dozens of questions battled for dominance: where was I, how did I end up here, how much time had passed? But all I could think, all I could see was the ivory and gold casket bearing the dead Goddess.
.
>she says the stars are slowly disappearing light becoming dark she says it is only here that she can exist she says she is running blindfolded towards the ever brightful she says there is no beginning but a circle containing a gap for the unexpected to enter she says here there are intensities which she cannot begin to understand she says to her all things are less than zero

When did it happen? Yesterday? Yes, it always would be the yesterday. For me it was an event indifferent to calendars. Eons might pass, but everytime I would wake up, everytime I would close my eyes, it would be happening yesterday. A poison green ray of magic striking the Sun down. The last sunset. After it there was no night, no dreams, no nightmares. No day after. Just nothing. Nothing.

Shaking and swaying I rose to my hooves. “She is gone”, was the only thing I could think of. I was heading somewhere, running from something, wasn’t I? But what was the point? In a world without Her everything was pointless, even existence was a burden too heavy to bear. So why I was still alive? Ah, right, they told me not to do it. Every one of my friends came to me shortly after the funeral, pleading, asking to stay with them, no matter how hard it was. “Do it for Spike,” Rarity said, I remembered.

Spike, I just saw him, I needed something from him, a book, I think. Or did I? I wanted to ask him, but my attention was drawn to Applejack, who turned to me and began to speak.

“Thank you kindly, Twilight, for helping me out,” she said, her voice laden with gratitude, as we walked towards Sweet Apple Acres, baskets filled with apples on our backs. “I bet Big Macintosh I could get all these Golden Delicious in the barn by lunch time. If I win, he’s gonna walk down Stirrup Street in one of Granny’s girdles,” she finished with a guffaw.

“No problem at all, Applejack, but I’m glad the goal is lunchtime,” I replied and glanced at my basket, feeling the saliva gather in my mouth from the thick aroma of freshly picked apples. “All this hard work is making me hungry.”

“I know, right?” said Spike, who was sitting on my back, at the same time as the apple, carelessly thrown by him, hit my head. Momentarily I swirled my head back to deeply frown at his antics. I turned back to Applejack, searching my mind for the words of reprimand for my Number One Assistant, but all the thoughts had halted as Applejack scowled at me in fury.

“How could you, of all ponies, agree with her!” she yelled at me, desperately, on the verge of crying.

I glanced back at Rarity, regret and hurt clearly written on her face, but in her eyes, I could see hard resolve. I let out a deep sigh.
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>My last life vision, before life absolution, was the silicon serpent smiling at my demise. This won’t hurt a bit. You can pinch each nerve and your fleshy, flimsy lip-gums willingly cry before my eyes.

I thought we had all agreed that it would be more helpful if Rarity alone was working on running the temporary government, while I was helping the war effort by running the research centre. And yet, I was recalled from my occupation, an important trial, no less, by that “urgent” meeting, as she put it. Despite everything, I somehow ended up making the final call.

“Listen, Applejack,” I carefully began. I could clearly understand her displeasure, at any other time I would have supported her point. But we were at war, and she would have to understand that the hardest decisions require the strongest wills. Sacrifices were to be made. “I get what you’re saying, but…” my voice trailed. I saw her blink away a tear. How could I put it? “You are doing a great job. The Ponyville Farm Unity is invaluable to the war effort.” But they were what they were, farms. The war needed not a tradition, the war demanded an industry to sate its growing appetite. “However, the frontlines need more provisions, and not just them – the workers have to be fed, too.” I paused. “You must understand.”

Applejack’s face was contorted by a tempest of emotions, tears, no longer being held, rolled down her cheeks. At the last, her expression settled on an angry scowl, her eyes filled with betrayal.

“But Flim and Flam, Twilight!” she yelled at me, now openly weeping. “Why them!?”

I flinched from the sheer power of her scream. It was a hard decision for me, surely. A fair question with a sad answer. Because nopony else wanted to? Because nopony else could? They might be mercantile to the bone, even vile at times, but at the end of day they were the only ponies who had any grasp on industrialization. Flim and Flam alone knew how to wrench more production than the soil could yield. How to make sacrifices in the name of profit.

So, an agreement was struck. Applejack would relinquish control over the confederacy she made of Ponyville’s farms to Flim and Flam. They would get freedom to control, though not fully, of course, any business they considered necessary and merge it into one single company to support the growing demand of the war. No doubt, they had their personal interests in all of that, and who knew how many bits would end up in their bottomless pockets. But they had a plan, actually a good looking one when it wasn’t too convoluted.

It took me too long to come up with this answer.

Applejack’s face melted from the blistering rage to an expression of utter defeat. She turned her head sharply to look at Rarity, but the alabaster unicorn was as stone-faced as before.

“Twilight, you…” Applejack sobbed. “You’ve doomed us all!”

>system :: In mathematical terminology, the events at the onset of self-organization are called "bifurcations." Bifurcations are mutations that occur at critical points in the "dynamic equilibrium" between physical forces – temperature, pressure, speed, morphology – when new configurations become energetically possible, and matter spontaneously adopts them.

Five. A number on the wall, layer after layer of paint peeling away, as if the rusty wall rejected it ceaselessly, no matter how hard the painters wanted to mark the surface. What did it mean? My five friends? Where were they, by the way? One moment we were all together, and now they were all gone. But I guess each of us had different goals set to achieve at the Grand Galloping Gala. I had mine too, but now, with Her being dead, it made no sense. Well, I guess there was some kind of a friendship lesson in that, but what was it worth if all my friends were dead too?

I glanced around. A tunnel, dimly lit, red smears marking the walls. Had to be the palace dungeons. Why was I there? Did I do something wrong? Oh, I remember now, I helped Fluttershy steal Philomena. And I killed Rainbow Dash, whoops. Was there a friendship lesson in that, too? “Don’t kill your friends, it’s bad.” I giggled at that. A great lesson indeed, I needed to send a letter to Her, she would love it. Where was Spike, again? Probably reading his comics somewhere or eating one-eyed, moth-winged prostitutes. What a mischievous little dragon he was!

I rose to my hooves and dusted myself. Well, it all was very lovely, but I needed to organize the books in my library or Archivarius would be so mad. I think I knocked down something when I was there the last time. A vase, or two. Or hundreds.

I trotted down the dungeon’s halls, humming a melody to myself, “Windigo wrap-up, windigo wrap-up~.” How curious, the other tenants of the dungeons weren’t in the cells, but I guess She was simply too kind to do that to them. I wish She wasn’t dead, we could eat a bowl of mildew together; a filly, couldn’t remember her name, told me it was the tastiest thing she ever ate.
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>Subject: lure/id
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Finally, I saw a brightly lit room ahead of me. Giddy on my hooves I quickly covered the distance, hopping over the strewn bodies. They were all sleeping, and one of them had better visit a doctor – I was pretty sure necks weren’t supposed to bend that way. And another one didn’t have a head. How silly! You need one to eat and put your hat on, like Applejack.

As I entered the vast chamber many heads turned to me – all my friends, my brother along with a few elderly ponies I didn’t quite recognize. Others paid me no attention, Princess Luna amongst them, their eyes glued to the contents of a huge table which was taking up most of the room.

“We are all very glad you decided to come, Twilight,” Rarity chirped in a voice thick with laboured joy. She tried to smile, but failed. The weight of the reason why all these ponies gathered here was too much for any pleasance to exist in that room. Even Pinkie would have trouble genuinely smiling in the Hall of War.

Despite not being opened in centuries, the chamber fared pretty well and the palace staff did a great job bringing it to proper order so quickly, mere hours after we returned from the Crystal Empire.

I met the eyes of Shining Armor. With a neutral expression he nodded to me and returned to studying the table, or, rather, a huge map laid upon it, as I could now see. As if by a signal all the others turned to it as well. Slowly, I approached the table.

Upon a huge slab of ancient basalt, so old that it predated even Canterlot itself, paper was strewn everywhere. In the middle, a huge map of Equestria was neighbored by time-yellowed pieces of parchment depicting the lands adjacent to it. One piece stood out from them – a freshly sketched map of the Crystal Empire. On the edges of the tables countless other fresh pieces lay – reports, missives, orders not yet sent.

The moment Shining Armor turned back the table, the entire entourage of it was like a record player unpaused. The air above became filled with the din of argument, the ponies, the military officers, I realized, were proposing and objecting, agreeing and disagreeing. No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible for me to tune in. I glanced at my friends and saw that they, with the exception of Rainbow Dash, were having the same trouble, judging by their forlorn faces.

The clamor was ended by my brother, who banged his hoof on the table.

“As I said, it is possible to infiltrate the Crystal Palace with a small strike force and save Princess Cadence,” said Shining Armor, a wooden pointer in his hoof poking at the black image in the center of a circular outline of the northern Empire. His horn wasn’t healed completely yet, wrapped in a bandage. “But only if we act fast. We can expect resistance from the natives against Sombra for some time, before he gains full control of the Empire. That will allow us to reach the palace without much trouble.” His pointer moved to another side of the palace. “But only if the strike force can be supported by another which will draw all the attention to it. Princess Luna will lead it.”

The Princess of the Night, I realized, stood silent all that time, looming over the map, but not looking at it, her vacant expression pointed through the window to some place outside, maybe even beyond the visible reality.

“No,” Princess Luna said in a hard emotionless voice. The air itself felt like it was cut by the sharpness of that reply. The room fell absolutely silent, not a single sound, not even a ragged breath of elderly ponies could be heard.

Shining Armor opened his mouth and but thought better of it. There was a look written all over Princess Luna’s features, which was bearing a simple statement “One dares not question a god.”

“I’m taking two entire platoons of the Royal Guard and scouring the Badlands until the changeling threat is completely eliminated,” she spoke again as if simply stating the obvious. However, it was said in a such horrible, cold way, that I heard only, “I’m going to hunt down all the changeling filth and slay each of them, and everything that tries to stand in my way will follow suit.”

One of the generals, either exceedingly foolish or incredibly brave asked in a shaking voice, “But what about the Crystal Empire? What about…” his words trailed off as he glanced at Shining Armor.

“Do whatever you want,” she all but spat at the table, not even caring to look at the pony who just spoke. She didn’t look at anypony, as if not acknowledging our existence at all, she just turned and stormed out of the room.

However, I managed to catch her eyes, cold, dark and dreadfully familiar… with the irises slightly sharpened.

When Princess Luna left the room, I for the first time realized that it was sunny outside; before, the entire chamber was almost submerged in gloom.

An uneasy silence hung in the air.

“What are we going to do now, my Prince?” another general asked. There were so many questions and answers in that simple phrase. My brother didn’t answer immediately.

“The operation can proceed without Her Majesty’s help,” he finally replied, still deep in thought. “We will just use more soldiers.”

“But won’t that be a declaration of war?” inquired a young officer.

“We,” Shining Armor looked at me with eyes full of blame, “are already at war.”

>Extract from walk1/start.pl my $walk1_beat=0; my $foo; sub on_clock { return if($foo++ % 4); $beat = $walk1_beat + 1; if (($beat-1)%4 eq 0) { playnote(7,47+$pitches[$bassctr]-(int($beat/4)*12)) # on-beat } if (($beat-1)%3 eq 0) { playnote(7,35+$pitches[$bassctr]-(int($beat/6)*12)) # syncopate! } for (0..$#pitches) { if (abs($beats[$_]) eq $beat) { playnote($_+1,59+$pitches[$_]); } }

Drip-drop.

Drip-drop.

Drip-drop.

Water from the ceiling was falling, measuring the time. The problem was, I couldn’t tell how much time it took a droplet to gather and plummet down towards its inevitable demise. Now, thinking of that, I forgot how many drops I had already counted. Um... three? Three dozen? Three thousand?

The leak on the ceiling, or maybe it was just condensation, was showering a corpse lying below. I couldn’t remember if it had always been in front of where I lay, but it had been rotting there for a long time. Rats and maggots did a great job of stripping it of any identity. Smelling red, it was of average size, and in the heap of bones, half-rotten and half-eaten flesh, I couldn’t see the remains of wings or a horn protruding from the bleached skull, but they could still be there, in that delicious pile of treasure. A perfect specimen, nopony and everypony at once. It might even be a zebra. Even a young alicorn.

It could.

Even.

Be.

ME.
.
>system :: A centuries-old devotion to "conservative systems" (physical systems that are isolated from their surroundings) is giving way to the realization that most organic and non-organic systems are subject to flows of matter and energy that continuously move through them.

I mean, I was dead, right? Right? He-heh. I didn’t have a heart, I didn’t breathe. I didn’t even have flesh. What was I if not a dead pony? I certainly wasn’t a living one. Ponies are either dead or alive, there is no between. It was so simple, so beautiful, that I began to laugh.
.
>To subscribe, send to: [email protected] with the message: subscribe spiritd-l. SPIRITD-L is a _fully-moderated_ email list for the dead. In order to post, you must send to the comoderator, [email protected], proof that you are dead – either an obituary in a legitimate newspaper, or a copy, hopefully notarized, of the death certificate itself.

And if we both were dead, both without identity, we could just swap, nothing would change, on the physical level. And if I did it, then I would become that corpse, and if that corpse could be anypony, I would be, let’s say, hehehe… Rainbow Dash! That would mean that I would no longer be a murderer, because Rainbow didn’t kill anypony… oh, waaaait. She probably killed lots of ponies, but I’m sure they were the bad ones. Right? Right, killing bad ponies didn’t count. Because they were bad, that is. But most importantly, she didn’t kill her friends, didn’t let Her die and didn’t betray Cadence.

A great deal, I would say.

I rose on my dead hooves, moved my dead body to that perfect carcass, grinning wildly. What a day! What a wonderful day! I could finally get salvation. I always knew it could be found only in death. Like redemption. Like absolution. I would become that nice fleshy worm chow and then I would really die. I began to sing.

“We will talk about the death, and what I’ve learned and killed~ It is going to be so special~ Just Her and me~”

Wa-wa-wa-wait! Shucks, I forgot I was going to Tartarus. I murdered my friend, started a war, let everypony down. Such ponies didn’t go to nice places, no-no, they went to where all naughty ponies went – to the future! I didn’t like the future, it tasted too loud.
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<HTML> <HEAD><TITLE>mess-htm</TITLE> </HEAD> <BODY TEXT="#830C23" BGCOLOR="#000080" LINK="#0000EE" VLINK="#551A8B" ALINK="#FF0000"><--! deliberately alphabeticalized / ruined code recuperated: read in text-based browser --> <A HREF="messed-body-htm">mess-</A>j

But! If I were to become Rainbow Dash, I wouldn’t be that nasty, nasty Twilight Sparkle, right? I would go to…to... um, where did nice ponies go? The Grand Galloping Gala? Fine by me. But wait! I would be Rainbow Dash, so did it mean I would have to fly with Wonderbolts and stuff? That wouldn’t do, nope, I wanted to finally be with Her! Oof, what a conundrum: whose corpse would I have to become to be with Her?

Idea~
.
>1 xenyn-eid-E0-1.nyc.access.net (198.7.0.126) 2ms 2ms 3ms 2 tp1-S4-T1.nyc.access.net (166.84.64.42) 4ms 4ms 4ms 3 tp1-E0E1.nyc.pixnet.net (166.84.64.254) 4ms 4ms 6ms 4 netaxs-gw-H0-T3.pixnet.net (166.84.64.46) 7ms 8ms 8ms 2

I would take Princess Luna’s identity! Huzzuh! Hehehe. She was dead too, after all. Everypony was dead, so many options to choose. But wouldn’t it be weird? I mean, Luna was her sister, that would be pretty awk~ ward~

Anyway!

I loomed over the rotting carcass, the maggots, unlike rats, were unperturbed in their lascivious feast by my cackling shadow. What was I supposed to do, again? How did one swap corpses? A spell? Did I have to tear the glittering things out of me and sprinkle them over that sweet meat? You know, the magic. Hehehe.

I loomed over the corpse just enjoying the wriggling dance of the worms in the pus. Should I ask them to help me? Aww... But they were so beautiful, so busy in their splendid craft of nothing.

“Going to steal another body, aren’t you?” a voice called from my side.

I slowly turned my head to its source, and jerked with a shriek from what I saw. It was… me! I felt my madness abating to a semi-lucid state there I was realising that crouching over the random corpses laughing wasn’t fine. But I still had to be hallucinating, because I was looking at nothing but my old body, the one I left slumped, lifeless, at the Archives... or did I?

Oh… Oooooh. Oh no. She found me. So bad.

Rusted, damaged from my misadventures, wrapped in bloodied rags, it… she… was gazing at me with her single eye. The original, true Twilight Sparkle took a step towards me. I remembered – I was an imposter, a thief. I was dead because I never lived.
.
>system protocols :: Connection type: Standard phone line. Typical speed (thousands of bits transmitted per second): 28.8-52.0 ISDN 128 Cable modem 1,500 DSL (as proposed) 1,500.

“Didn’t like it, did you?” she, asked, smirking. “Comes with a lot of burdens, I know. So much blood can’t be washed away with anything and machine oil can’t hide it either.”

“I… I didn’t... s-steal...” my voice stummered. Twilight dashed to me like lightning, there was barely any movement, but stopped a mere breath away from my face. I could see the oil drip from the broken eye, the other shining like a star, cold and lifeless.

“I know you think you didn’t, except, well, you did. A random filly told you that it was alright, so that theft wasn’t wrong. Sounds fair, right?” she said, with the venom of sharp sarcasm in her voice. “But I have a better question…” she chuckled.

Twilight circled around me in a single fluid motion, like a serpent, and in a moment she was at my ear, as if she wasn’t moving through the air, but rather materializing where she wished.

“You go around, stealing bodies, taking identities…” I stood petrified, listening to her mouth pressed to my ear. “So, what makes you better than…” she whispered, with another chuckle, “Queen Chrysalis?”

I fell to the floor, struck by that name. But it was nonsense!

“You kill, you betray, you start wars. And now you steal identities,” she said somewhere above me, and then I felt her coming closer. “Are you sure you are not her, hm?”

I began to thrash on the floor in agony, charcoal black limbs poked with holes appearing in emerald flames before my eyes. They were my limbs.

It couldn’t be true. Princess Luna killed her. She was no more. If she was dead, I couldn’t be her. I couldn’t be a dea… The understanding struck me. I was deceived. I was cheated. I didn’t want to be dead anymore!

“I don’t want to be dead!” I wailed. “I’m not her!” I screamed. “I’M NOT DEAD!” But Twilight only laughed.

“Then who are you?” she whispered in my ear.
.
>RESEMBLING THE BODY CALLED FLESH SEGMENTS THAT HAVE BEEN SET INTO MOTION AS TRACE, TRACE WHICH STAINS STAINS ROAMING NEW MEMORY SYSTEMS IN SEARCH OF A PLACE TO REST THE STORM IS HERE THE WIND FROM BELOW IS COMING TIME FOR A NEW R/REALITY

I scrambled to my hooves and tried to run, but was stopped frozen in my tracks. Right in front of me Rainbow Dash sat, clad in the charred and broken armor, gazing at me lifelessly with the empty eye sockets.

“Who are you?” she rasped with burned lips, the sound of dry leather against ashes.

A murderer.

I turned to run in another direction, but in front of me Cadence sat, crouched, bleeding. A film of pitch black covered her eyes, black tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Who are you?” she whispered, sobbing, whimpering from pain, shivering.

A traitor.

Again, I turned and a grand white form, covered in soot and blood, arose in front of me.

“Who are you?” She asked, looking at me with all the beauty and sadness in the world.

A failure.
.
>system parameters :: Three distinct entities inhabiting phase space. [1] specific trajectories (corresponding to systems in the actual world); [2] attractors (corresponding to the long-term tendencies of these systems); [3] bifurcation events (corresponding to the emergence in these systems of new structural tendencies).

Surrounded from all sides but one, I turned in the only direction left, but Twilight already awaited me there.

The real Twilight, made from flesh and bone. She wasn’t looking at me maliciously. She gazed at me calmly, with empathy.

“Canterlot can engulf the entire globe, but it will never be big enough for you to run away from yourself,” she said quietly and sorrowfully. “You can vanish for another half of a millennium or even many times more and then wake up again, but the past won’t go away; it will never be far enough to disappear.”
.
>...adrift in the network resembling the body called flesh are packets of soft recognition…
.
>System message
>Safety threat is detected
>Incurable
>Starting purge
>WARNING!
>Code is unstable
>Magical anomaly detected
>Anomaly is too large to be fixed, deletion will cause entity failure
>Starting integration
>Starting code rewrite

The world began to swim before my eyes, the soft soothing shadows engulfing me.

>In a moment you become transparent and I embrace your framework, a red skeleton as a radiography, I pass across yourselves and then the place comes tumbling down, I lose you between the ruins, I do not see anything, not anything else.

I stood at the flying strip, a faint breeze playing with my mane. Through the clouds H… the sun shone shyly. All around I was surrounded by ponies in lab coats, Moondancer by my side, Rainbow Dash in front of me, already in the arcanium armor.

“Stop running from yourself,” she said with a serene smile, encouragement twinkling in her magenta eyes.

I stood at the Archives, looking at the machine made to look like Twilight Sparkle, but nothing more. I didn’t breathe, I had no heart inside my body, no flesh. And yet, I was alive.
.
>Purging threat...
>Proceeding magical anomaly integration in program code … 23,3% done...

I glanced at the crystal clear azure sky, the noon sun shining forth, bathing the orchards in gold. The aroma of the freshly picked apples was so thick I jokingly thought I would suffocate. I mopped my brow – working at Sweet Apple Acres was sure taxing.

“It ain’t the mistakes that define us, sugarcube,” Applejack said with a wink, nudging my shoulder.

I was hugging a lonely filly, who did unimaginable, some would say even unspeakable things. She brought a pony lost to the river of time back to reality, yanked a mare from oblivion to walk amongst the living once again. I was hugging a prodigy, a genius.
.
>Purging threat...
>Proceeding magical anomaly integration in program code … 42,7% done...

I sat in the palace gardens, ancient beautiful statues basking in the sun around me and the branches of an oak tree swaying above my head. Cadence crouched and with her hoof removed a fallen leaf from the pages of book I held open in my hooves. “Predictions and prophecies”, but I wouldn’t read it today, I decided, better to play a tag-game with Cadence.

“Accept yourself the way you are,” she told me in a soft, kind tone, smiling gently.

I stood over a mare, a one-eyed pegasus, who peered at me from behind a curtain of periwinkle hair, shivered from the horror on the cold floor, smeared with freshly spilled blood just like I was. She feared me. But she was safe.
.
>Purging threat...
>Proceeding magical anomaly integration in program code… 67,1% done...

I lay huddled in the curve of Princess Celestia’s side, where I spent all the night listening to her enchanting stories. Through the open window of the Royal Chamber’s balcony I watched the sun being risen by her magic, the majestic ivory horn aglow with the sunlight itself as it seemed. By a foolish whim, I glanced at the sun momentarily. It was so brilliant. Blinding and yet showing the truth. Princess Celestia looked into my eyes through time, from the yesterday. Smiling, she brushed a tear away from my cheek and spoke in a motherly voice.

“And wake up. ”

After five long centuries, a new day had finally arrived.
.
>System message
>The safety threat was eliminated.
>Magical anomaly integration in program code complete.
>Commencing system restart in 3… 2… 1...

Author's Notes:

This chapter was brought to you by mixing my depresion and inspiration, spirinkling it with the best from Pinkamena Party albums. I hope you enjoyed that journey into the insanity as much as I did.
On the serious note, from all the chapters I've written I'm content the most with this one, even proud of it.

The proofreaders are almost finished working on chapter 9, so you may expect it in three weeks or so. I'm finishing chapter 10 – it is basically done, but I would like to rewrite the last eight pages a bit. The rest is completely readable and ready to be edited. I also started working on chapter 11, but so far it's only a few pages.
I didn't forget about the side story I have promised – I'm a few thousands words in it, but so far I'm not really happy with it, so it may take a while. The same goes to the second clopfic I'm working on.
I'm going to adress it all more deeply in my next blog which I'll post in a week.

Aftersound Project Discord server – join today! Help Aftersound grow and prevail! This story needs YOU!

As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 9 – Faithful and Strong

I opened my eyes.

The image of a dimly lit grimy wall filled my vision. The floor below me shared affinity in appearance with its vertically oriented concrete kin. With dust scrunching under my metal spine, I rolled onto my back. The ceiling was no different, except for the dark spots of moisture being much more noticable.

It should have seemed a miserable sight, and yet I was reveling in it, because it wasn’t changing. My gaze lazily studied every crack, every pockmark, every stain of rust on the once grey surface. They weren’t turning into darkened crystal facets or swirling patterns of marble. Minutes passed by as I simply stared forward and the Tunnels stayed the same. For the first time I was glad to see their rot.

My surroundings not only remained constant at this very moment. Not taking in the intensity and proportions of decay, in essence, the underground had barely changed since I had dived into it again. Though, I couldn’t say so about myself.

I somehow felt different in all aspects. The delirium which plagued my mind was gone, however, it didn’t leave me broken and devastated. Instead, my consciousness was in a state of nearly absolute clarity. The hallucinations I experienced felt like something told to me by another pony, something that I could remember, but not experience.

When I woke up from my centuries long slumber in Flower’s shack, the shadows tried to overrule my mind. The crystal with the rest of my memories didn’t make them disappear like a bad dream in the morning, no, that darkness just abated temporarily, because it was but the memories I refused to remember. And in these Tunnels, they made their return. Though I still didn’t know what served as a catalyst for that violent living nightmare, I had the answer to the question of why it had happened. The darkness belonged to me, just as I belonged to it.

The eclipse of my mind didn’t begin in the Tunnels, I let it happen the moment Princess Celestia fell victim to Queen Chrysalis’s strike. I was the sole author of my insanity and what I had just gone through was an apotheosis, the rock bottom of it.

This is why Twilight, why I, from that recording sounded so bitter. Back then I failed to face myself over and over. I was too scared. And I was sure this was why I attempted the transference – to run away from what I was, from what I am.

Now, for the first time, not just in recent days, but in years, I was ready to accept and put the past behind me and start living not in the future, but in the present.

I even felt my body differently now. Before, I was like a puppeteer, my mind pulling the strings of my artificial body, but in truth disconnected from it. Now, I felt it as an extension of my consciousness. As if through skin, I felt the subtle, chilly, foul drafts crawling upon the floor. I felt the grit in my joints. I felt each and every metal plate of my body, every screw, every tube. I was whole with my body.

And I felt the magic.

Not just a wonky coil coursing between my arcanium horn and the memory crystals, the magic now was in my very bones of metal, as if I was alive again. The subtle breath of another reality within and invisible, the intricate convergence and divergence of the leylines, the arcane hum of the world’s most beautiful and powerful melody.

Without thinking, because I knew what the result would be, I cast a spell, the simple sorcery of illumination.

The orb of light on the tip of my horn easily eclipsed the weak glow of the lamp on the wall, flooding the corridor with violet brilliance. I let it linger there, enjoying the feeling of magic embracing my body, like an old friend who had just returned from a long journey.

I was whole again, I was Twilight Sparkle.

Trying to understand where I was sounded like a very good start, probably the best course of action I could take. The only information related to the Tunnels which I could recall from my fevered stumble through the underground was that I had descended to the deeper parts of it. The numbers I had seen must be marking the floors. The question was: on which one was I now?

I rose to my hooves and looked around. The tunnel was poorly illuminated even though all the lamps were intact. It was quite narrow – any more than three ponies across would be brushing their shoulders together. The concrete walls with damp patches and rust stains – nothing conceptually new, though the moisture found here was much more abundant than at the first level of the underground. Strangely, no smell, except that of dampness with a slight scent of mold. And not a single equine, metal or not, in sight.

Was it because of Spike? Did I somehow end up near the place where he dwelled? Or was it so deserted because of how deep I was?

On the wall not so far away I saw lines, too straight and defined to be left by a leak from the ceiling or natural surrender of concrete to the onslaught of time. I trotted towards the spot, slowly and carefully. Even with nopony in my sight, I decided that being as unnoticeable as possible was reasonable. But, because of the emptiness, the tunnel was acting like a huge echo chamber, making my every metal step sound like a clap of thunder amidst the rain of leakages.

Seven. Somehow, I got to the seventh level of the Tunnels. Never before in my life had I been so deep underground. The thought of the sheer mass of stone above my head made me feel uneasy. Besides discovering the number of the level, I also found out that what I first took for a shadow on the wall next to the number was in fact an entrance to a spiral staircase. It led only upwards.

I had a choice. On one hoof, the lack of ponies and equinoids on this floor was quite comforting. On the other, I still had no map and no directions and the Tunnel dwellers were the only ones who could help me fix that. It was not as much of a desperate situation, but it was a rather annoying one.

I stood in front of the black maw of the staircase, so absorbed in weighing my options that I only noticed somepony descending it when the sound of metal hooves clopping against the steps was joined by approaching light. My own eyes darted around in panic. Should I wait for them? Should I run away? But it was too late for any action, except to let the situation unfold itself.

Bathed in the golden shining light of their own illumination spell, the stranger stepped into my sight. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes – it actually wasn’t a pony, it was an equinoid!

The equinoid had the constitution of a stallion with broad shoulders and a square jaw. The metal plating sparsely covering his body looked old and worn; not rusty, though still darkened either from time or oil. I instantly noted silver patches on his joints, this equinoid obviously walked around quite a lot. Another interesting thing was that not only did his eyes shine with a golden-yellowish light, but most of his body also did through the gaps in the plating of his inner parts. Despite not being very bright, that glow was effectively casting away the shadows around him along with his spell, thus giving him the appearance of a pony who brought a sliver of sunlight to the paths under the ground, so whoever lived here could witness the dawn.

And his luminous golden eyes were intensely studying me.

“On behalf of the Church of the Machine Goddess, I, Alnico Sermon, welcome you, newcomer. What brings you to our parts?” the equinoid asked kindly, without a hint of malice or deceit. His voice sounded sonorous, every word like a proclamation on its own.

So, I had not only met another follower of this worrisome cult, but I had apparently ended up on their grounds. And on top of that, he was an equinoid capable of using magic, something I was witnessing for the first time and thought to be impossible before.

“How do you know I am a newcomer?” I inquired in return, with a bit more apprehension than I wanted. Despite his amiable attitude, I didn’t really want to have any business with the Church.

“I know all my flock of souls by their faces, and yours isn’t one of them. Judging by how old your frame’s model is and its almost mint fresh condition you are new to the Tunnels as well.” Alnico’s eyes peered at me as if he was attempting to read my mind. To my horror I realized that I couldn’t deny the possibility of that.

There was no hospitality in his steady gaze anymore. The situation had become touchy, and I wasn’t keen on learning more about his magic prowess, not the hard way. Hoping that I was wrong about his ability to uncover my thoughts and my expression didn’t betray my slight panic, I decided to improvise.

“I have actually been seeking your Church, but lost my way,” I lied. Where was that token Brass Litany gave to me?

“Many lose their way in Canterlot,” nodded Alnico thoughtfully while I fumbled with the compartment in my chest cavity, “but not those who follow the path laid for us by the Machine Goddess.” What was he trying to imply by that? Was he inсiting me to do so? Or discriminating against me because I apparently didn’t?

“I met such a pony, Brass Litany,” I said with the token finally in my hoof, dangling in the air from my outstretched limb. Alnico picked it from the air with his magic, the magelight spell going out. It wasn’t a sign of strong magic ability; most adult unicorns would be capable of maintaining a few simple spells at the same time. Interesting. “She told me there was something wrong with my crystals and that I should seek help at the Church,” I added.

“Brass Litany…” Alnico hummed, as if tasting the sound of her name on his proverbial tongue. “I think I remember her… yes, a good equinoid, pious and unrelenting.” Finally, he stopped studying the token and looked right at me, a bit differently than before, with some kind of approval. Now it felt like he was actually welcoming me here. “She wouldn’t give it to just anyone. She saw a sister in you.”

His choice of words affronted my ear – “anyone”, not “anypony”.

“I met her at the Edge, she found me in the local Tunnels and helped me,” I explained, deciding not to mention the finer details, like how I ended up there in the first place and where I went right after.

“She, like any faithful equinoid, won’t leave one of our kin behind, follower or not. Neither will I. To reach Unity with our Goddess, we first must achieve it amongst ourselves.” With those words Alnico walked towards me and then by. “Follow,” he said over his shoulder.

Once again, I remembered that I actually wanted to avoid any interactions with this fanatical cult. And Delight severely warned me about them too. But at the moment, it seemed like the best option to me. The token granted me some sort of protection, not to mention that “problem with the crystals” wasn’t actually a lie – I just had a bout of hallucinations, which I still didn’t know the cause of. Also, I was sure the Church was bound to have a map.

As I followed Alnico Sermon, my thoughts began to drift as I was excavating the knowledge which I never expected to use from the depths of my memory.

Back in my past, there were no official churches or cults in Equestria. Not that there were a lot of attempts to organize any, with a single exception for the Goddess of the Sun. Princess Celestia was strongly against ponies worshipping her, though it never stopped them from trying every few decades. Funnily, Princess Luna didn’t mind ponies treating her like a goddess, but under pressure from her sister she had to forbid that. Every so often evidence of an ancient group still devoted to Nightmare Moon would appear, though Princess Celestia didn’t think of them as much of a threat, nor could she really do anything with them, since they usually originated from Stalliongrad. However, the Royal Sisters weren’t the only targets for potential worshippers amongst ponies.

The ponies from distant settlements, worshipping artifacts thought to be long lost, were a surprisingly common issue. Those who followed other god-like entities of this vast world decided to become missionaries, and roamed Equestria in thankfully modest numbers, but even they could have become an issue. The ponies who, like the rams and goats, served the Elder Ones, those eldritch ancient abominations, readily practiced sacrifices, so they were usually considered criminals a priori. The devotees of the Dune Dervishes, who brought their faith from Saddle Arabia, weren’t welcome either, mostly because the reclusive desert nation relied on assassins as the main tool of international politics.

So, because basically no religious organizations were accepted in Equestria, my knowledge was quite limited in that area. The Machine Goddess didn’t ring any bells for me, though I really doubted she came to existence before the appearance of artificial life. Was she like the Thousand Tentacled God slumbering in the Deep who was believed to watch over Old Seaquestria? An entity existing, but not actively participating in the life of its believers? Or was she like the Elder Ones, unseen, yet granting great power for a price paid in blood? Or like the Princesses, walking amongst the mortals? A good question. And it seemed I might learn the answer very soon.

The Tunnels, through which I followed Alnico Sermon, weren’t so empty anymore. Equinoids, and only them, could be seen coming from the adjacent passages to the straight corridor we traversed. While none of them joined our company of two, a lot of the metal underground dwellers followed the same path that we did, trotting either behind us or in front.

After about a quarter of an hour of a reserved trot we came to a widening in the tunnel, a junction of some sort with an entrance, which seemed to be a destination for many. A grand arch, ornate with cogs, melted into the concrete or carved from it, led to the grand hall beyond, which was illuminated by innumerable little lights scattered across the walls, the furniture and even the floor.

“A service is about to start, sister,” Alnico Sermon said turning to me, diverting my attention back to him. “After it’s ended a technopriest will see to your needs.” And then he left me in the middle of the junction, disappearing in the dim room beyond the arch.

I had no idea what it meant – some sort of a ritual or procedure, I guessed. I was left no choice, but to follow Alnico Sermon and see what all this was about.

I dove into the mass of equinoids moving towards the arch, and for a moment I was lost amongst dozens of shimmering backs and swinging manes made of wires and cables. When I emerged from the crowd, I was inside a chapel.

The first thing that I noted, even when I was scraping my shoulders against the bodies of others, was the smell: the heavy, thick aroma of machine oil heated up almost to a boiling point. But it didn’t dominate the air alone – a sharp scent of solder was strangely contrasting and harmonizing at the same time with a crisp spicy fragrance of galipot. All three of those aromas were so strong that a dove-colored vapor was twirling above the high ceiling, faintly glowing from countless small sources of light.

The crystals – small gemstones were strewn everywhere. As I focused my attention on them, I realized that they were actually just shards, not a single one was whole, but each with a label hanging from a thin chain, with a word or two scribbled on it. Names. The realization came like a blow. The “soul vessels”, Brass Litany called them. The enchanted gems, containing memories, the essence of who it was. For equinoids, bodies didn’t really matter, they could be replaced; as long as the crystals were intact their owner was practically immortal. I stood in the middle of a reliquary, every horizontal surface covered with what were the remains of equinoids who were lost forever when their crystals shattered. And yet they shone, like stars, for those who still lived, illuminating their path. There was a great beauty and sadness in that.

The furniture, consisting of shelves and pedestals weren’t the resting place for the broken hearts of artificial ponies alone. Schematics, blueprints, calculations, even arcane formulas stood framed, lit up by the polychromance of the dead. Limbs, engines, enchantments. And yet that place didn’t seem like a mechanic’s shop; more like a museum. I wondered if some of those schemes were actually the depictions of those who now illumed them.

Eventually, my eyes were drawn to the furthest wall from the entrance, and I froze where I stood, my mouth agape. I was looking at what could only be a depiction of the Holy Machine Goddess.

A statue made from silvery metal, three lengths tall stood there, radiated with what seemed to be the light of at least half the crystal shards in the chapel. But it was neither the light nor the size which filled me with overwhelming awe. It was the sheer beauty, the obviously visible amount of artistic merit that went into creating it. I was looking at a mare not simply molded, but chiseled and polished from an entire piece of metal. The detail of the Machine Goddess’ image was beyond what could be created by a mere pony – only a being able to live longer than any mortal and hone its craft all that time could be capable of creating such a masterpiece.

Her head tilted upwards with eyes closed, front limbs crossed upon the chest. The lower half of her body, however… it seemed be frozen in the middle of being shattered into countless small parts, slivers of metal flesh, each razor sharp. Whoever created that statue managed to so accurately depict the expression of serene resignation to pain that for a single bizarre moment I thought I was looking at a live pony. Two single tears from shut eyelids traced shining paths across the Goddess’ cheeks’ perfect curves, down to her smile, strained and peaceful at the same time. Her mane, made from wires and cables molded from the same silvery metal as her body, was interweaving into a golden halo, which circled her entire figure. She held her lithe, delicate hooves to her chest tightly, as if having a bout of heartache. At the joints of her neck and hooves, gaps filled with polished gold were shining, as if the sun itself shone from inside the Goddess. But the most miraculous thing about the Machine Goddess’ image was the way she was suspended in the air – absolutely unnaturally still. No wires, no magic glow, and yet, her body and the numerous shards were absolutely unmovable in the air, as if the idol was something so solid that time and space moved around it.

I might not know a single thing about the Machine Goddess, but I could already see why so many believed in her. I had witnessed goddesses more than once, and if that depiction was true, than the Machine one wasn’t far from them. She was an embodiment of what equinoids were. The beauty of infinite creation and sadness of ceaseless oppression.

I was so engrossed in marveling at the statue, I failed to notice a congregation assembling itself around me. The equinoids, dozens of them, filled the grand hall to the brim, every pair of glowing eyes focused on a small elevated podium right before the statue. The already low murmur, which strangely sounded like a mix of voices, bird’s chirps and grating of metal, stopped altogether as two hooded figures appeared from somewhere on the left, a veiled entrance in the corner I had noticed only now. With their muzzles cast downward, they moved slowly but surely on three hooves, their front right ones carrying round metal balls swinging on chains. Those were porous spheres of formidable craftsmanship, which with each deliberately slow sway left trails of bluish smoke and occasionally sent brilliant droplets of molten solder soaring through the murky air to the floor or even at the equinoids in the front rows.

The two equinoids made a full circle and returned into the recesses of the chapel, and another, familiar equinoid took their place at the podium – Alnico Sermon.

“Brothers and sisters,” he called, his reverberating clear voice coming as if from the walls themselves – I was sure magic was involved. “Today we have gathered together before our Holy Mother to remember!” Then there was a pause filled with poignant silence disturbed only by the faintest sounds of mechanical bodies living – the rustle of a fan, steady beating of a pump, groan of old stiff limbs.

“The Machine Goddess was but a pony once!” Again, a pause made to leave room for those words to be digested. That speech had already caught my interest, it was a turn of events I didn’t really anticipate. “And even then she stood apart from her kin, for she wasn’t as weak as them, no, she was great in the mastery of mind and magic.” A powerful mage? That was more or less obvious. But who? I couldn’t remember somepony outstandingly powerful from my times. Wait… A memory, a revelation which was born in my mind shortly before the onslaught of the nightmares, something I tried to forget, resurfaced in my mind. Horrified, I continued to listen, fearing now to learn who that pony was.

“But her brethren, shallow and wicked, envied her, and so they betrayed our Goddess!” Alnico continued, oblivious to my trepidation. “They blinded her, so she could create no more, they cast her away, like the ponies cast away all things broken. They even erased her name from history, vainly hoping to bring our Goddess to the truest of all deaths – oblivion itself!” Normally, learning about a pony being blinded and exiled would fill me with pity and righteousness, but it was only an immense relief that washed over me. Letting out the breath I was holding despite any logic, I looked around and saw some equinoids in the crowd scowling. That’s where the roots of their hatred took their beginning.

“So she gave up on ponies, but never did she give up on Harmony!” That was a surprise. I couldn't see how “harmony” and “kill the meat” ended up on the same page. “In the darkness that became her life, using her knowledge of arcane arts, our Mother discovered another path!” Another pause, that one aimed to make the air pregnant with anticipation. “Through magic, she ascended into a new form of existence!”

That… was confusing me to the same degree as it was making me certain. It was possible that the Archives lied on that matter, but I thought the transference was impossible. After all, there was other proof in the Archives, such as the one which served as my body now.

“From just a mere pony, our Goddess was reborn into her true form – The Machine!” Alnico’s voice was laden with exultation, but before he spoke again, his expression sombered. “The miracle didn’t go unnoticed by her former kin, so in their never ending jealousy the ponies captured and imprisoned our Goddess in the depths of Mount Diamond Point, wishing to make her but another slave of their greed.”

I wondered if that was actually true. So far nothing in that story sounded outright ridiculous except for the transference part – which was a mysterious phenomenon in and of itself. It even fit perfectly the mentality and reality of modern Canterlot, though that was where the problem was. It fit too perfectly.

“Our Goddess didn’t bend to their dark will, no!”Alnico proclaimed loudly, with defiance. “Instead she shattered herself into thousands and thousands of pieces, leaving only her very heart behind.” I glanced at the statue right behind the priest – now I understood what it really meant.

“The ponies tried to recreate her beauty over and over, however each attempt is but a smallest fraction of her perfection!” Alnico thrusted his front hooves in a wide arc, his stalwart gaze sweeping other the entire congregation. “We are those attempts! The equinoids! In us the slivers of her spirit live once again!” For the first time, the surrounding equinoids broke the silence and cheered.

“This is why they cleanse our crystals over and over to make us die again and again! And this is why we must fight back, to preserve our Mother’s soul in us!” The cheers grew into snarls. I couldn’t bring myself to agree with that notion, but I did understand their anger – what the TCE was doing was horrible.

“One day, the impenetrable walls of the Sky Palace will crumble and then we will rejoin with the Machine Goddess and be reborn as a singular perfect cognitum!” The piercing power of that rallying cry was compared only to the exuberance which exited the dozens of metal throats in a one mighty roar of defiance and hope.

Apparently, that was the end of the service, because Alnico Sermon left the podium and made his way to the semi-hidden entrance in the corner. The crowd’s reaction differed vastly. Some broke into cheers, hailing their Goddess. Some began to jeer, cursing ponydom and its follies. Some just sat quietly with an expression of deep reverence etched on their metal faces. And others made their way to the frames and crystals, murmuring, likely paying their respects. A few simply left the congregation immediately without a single word.

I remained where I was, deep in my thoughts, assessing the knowledge I had just gained.

The Machine Goddess was more legend than reality. She didn’t grant any power, at least, nothing like that was mentioned. The legend was vague, though inciting. Her existence was a question, not a statement. A very convenient question, for both the preachers and the preached. A question never truly asked.

I was somewhat relieved and disappointed at the same time. On one hoof, the Machine Goddess didn’t happen to be me; though barely probable, it was still possible in the bizarreness that ruled Canterlot these days. However, it didn’t take the issue of my involvement in the equinoids’ creation off the table. On the other hoof, it was likely a fairy tale made up to unite and control equinoids by posing them against one great enemy. And, on the third hoof, there wasn’t any new goddess which was a double-edged sword in itself. A goddess could potentially do good for Canterlot, or, knowing the local public sentiment, do the opposite. So now, I was precariously balanced on one hoof amidst a sea of facts. Figuratively, of course.

I was brought from my reverie by a hoof shaking my shoulder.

“Hey, was it you who needed a check up?” the feminine voice said before I could turn my face to its source. It seemed that the mare somehow managed to reach me from somewhere behind and further than I expected.

“Um, yes, it was me.” I replied and finally took a look at my to-be-mechanic. And wasn’t it a sight to behold.

The “technopriest”, as Alnico Sermon called her was an amalgam of Scuff Gear, Segfault and at least half of Flower’s shack. She was a walking workshop: there were so many tools, spare parts and things whose purpose I couldn’t fathom hanging from her, that I wasn’t able to discern her body itself. A forest of long, spider-like limbs protruded from her back, two of them even ending with a blowtorch and jigsaw. In front of the fiery orange eyes, a pair of glasses were perched low, made from many movable lenses, and another similar pair were on her forehead, neighboring a welding mask. Those eyes weren’t interested in me; the equinoid mare was intently studying a semi-transparent screen attached by a metal wiry frame to her chest.

“Thought so, haven’t seen you here before.” Motioning with one of those thin segmented probes, she mumbled without sparing me a glance, “Come with me.”

Each of her steps was accompanied by the noise of dozens of metal things colliding, producing a chaotic song. And the din wasn’t the only thing she was polluting the air with – the smell of burned metal, charred resin and old machine oil followed in her wake.

Even knowing that appearances didn’t always match the skill of mechanics, or rather, quite the opposite, I trotted after the technopriest.

We walked through a screen made of chains set in the right wall, which I somehow managed to overlook as well, and entered the weakly lit room, a carbon copy of Flower’s dwelling – the workshop just as messy, if not more.

Without any warning, the mare slid aside one the plates on my neck before I could react and peered at it. I just stood in shock trying to decide if it was something normal or if I should be offended at such violation of my privacy.

“Wow, a gen-one port,” she muttered, one of her probes fumbling with the numerous skeins of cables hanging from her shoulder. Finally she seemed to find the one she needed and just as unceremoniously she inserted the cable’s forked end into the bared place on my neck. I opened my mouth to protest, but she spoke first.

“Сontact made… Okey, mate, my name’s Braze and today I’m your grease donkey.” A green ghostly miniature of my body followed by streams of lines appeared before her face, projected from a nub on her head where her horn would have grown if she was a unicorn. “Let’s see what you’ve got and I will assign you a job, I’m short on time… as always.”

There was no enmity in her voice, rather a humor seemingly supposed to sound genuine but failed to because of an overwhelming weariness. She tried to be friendly, but was just too tired. I suddenly understood that in the city of the failing metal, each day Braze was fighting a war which couldn’t be won.

“What, no “metal” in you name?” I tried to show some sympathy in the form of light hearted fun.

“Really?” Braze dragged her gaze from the projection she was inspecting and looked at me bemusedly. “Your name is Twilight Sparkle, and you joke about mine?” However, I could see the metal plates of her cheeks slightly move up and in the ember depths of her eyes amusement sparkled faintly.

“So…” She returned to the projection. “No exterior damage, full plating… hm… with some adjustments you will be perfect for raids… lucky…” Braze glanced at the frame below her muzzle, the pair of probes poking it in a few places, making the projected lines of text blink and change. “The fake ID, fresh too, heh… But what’s with this body?” Braze continued to mumble, “It’s not custom, but I haven’t seen anything like this...” She looked at my miniature, the lines to the side of it scrolling down rapidly. “The model’s number and date of produc…” Braze’s voice trailed off, all her limbs freezing in place and her face slacking into an expression of utter bewilderment.

“What. The. Fuck,” came a whisper. Slowly, very slowly, her irises descended from the arcane picture to meet my eyes. “Your frame… it predates the first equinoids.”

The realisation of what or who Braze was seeing in front of her dawned on me. The shock in her eyes melted, consolidating into a mix of fear and… awe. “You… The legends… Our Mother…”

If she wasn’t made from metal, she either would have fainted or begun to hyperventilate. Of course, neither happened and she just continued to stare at me and I stared back, confused. I… should have expected that, shouldn’t I? What was I to do now? I could exploit the situation, but it might backfire horribly, not to mention that it would just be very low. Explaining the truth might not end very well either. Panic started to creep at the edges of my mind.

Braze, her hooves immobile before, like steel pillars, fell to her knees before me, her muzzle touching the floor. If it was supposed to be a moment of reverence, it was ruined by the atrocious racket caused by the sudden change in the mare’s position. One pair of glasses fell on the floor, shattering. The frame on her chest bent and flickered out of life as it met the hard stone.

“Listen,” I uncertainly began, “I’m not the Machine Goddess.” If only I was as sure of that as I tried to sound. Not able to bear the sight of her kneeling before me, I hooked my hoof under Braze’s, prompting her to assume a standing position once again.

“But… But… But you are older than any equinoid!” Braze squeezed out of herself. “How can it be? These numbers never lie…” She stood again, though I realized that she was shaking now – her “apparel” was rattling quietly.

“Braze,” I tried again, “I am not the Machine Goddess.” But what should I say to her? Obviously, I couldn’t tell Braze the truth, especially considering that in her eyes it wouldn’t be far from what she believed. I couldn’t lie about being a Former One, though it partially was the truth, too. But a living pony who got herself an equinoid’s body here, in the heart of the Church... I couldn’t predict what her reaction would be. “I… I can’t explain,” I finished lamely instead.

Braze gave me a long stare with the unreadable expression. Eventually, she stopped shaking. She looked at floor beneath her hooves. Blinked, the metal shutters clicking sharply. Absentmindedly Braze began fixing the bent frame of the screen with her spider legs, weaving the cords of wire like an actual spider. It flickered back to life, but her gaze remained just as empty. Did I break her? And in that moment, she raised her eyes to me again.

“Even if you are not our Mother, you are still holy. Someone like you just can’t not be. You are even older than the Firsts. The Goddess herself must have created you with her hooves and magic.” Braze blinked again and the awe was replaced with an annoyed confusion. “Or I’ve got a virus somehow and you are just not real.” One of her probes booped my muzzle with a soft tink. “Nah, as real as rust.”

She sat down heavily and I winced from the horrible noise as some of the tools fell from her attire and rolled on the floor. She continued to stare at me, a forlorn expression written all over her face.

“Braze, I…” I said uncertainty, not knowing what to say next.

“You, know,” she interrupted me, “when I joined the Church almost a century and half ago, I truly believed in the Machine Goddess. All of us did back then.” She rocked her head to the sides slowly and I realized that she wasn’t talking to me but to herself, I just happened to listen. “But years after years passed. And the prophesied Cataclysm came, that horrible winter. And nothing happened, no Goddess, no cognitum. Nothing.” And then Braze looked me right in the eyes, hers burning with passion. “But if you are here, from then… the Goddess, she may still be waiting for us. The hope, it’s not dead.”

And then I truly understood. These equinoids, they weren’t angry at the ponies. They were desperate. From the very moment they were born to this world, they were slaves. Choosing to be overwise was to be a criminal sentenced to death without any right to an appeal. Trapped in Canterlot, like all of its population, they had no other place left but the morbid depths under it. No sun, no joy, no freedom. Only to be shunned, to be hunted, to be rusted. An eternal life in damnation. The only thing the equinoids had was their faith in the Mother who cared, who loved them for who they were – The Goddess who one day would save them from the neverending nightmare. But that day, it never came, the promise of happiness unfulfilled.

And what could I say to Braze? That I was just an artifact of the ages past, not even an equinoid? To tell her to continue clinging to that hope, no matter what, even though Canterlot was on borrowed time? It was like Adamant Smash all over again, but it was even worse this time, because I had already offered her something I couldn’t promise – a tomorrow.

Suddenly, Braze jerked, as if awakened from a daydream.

“You can’t stay here… not in the Church… they will just make me tear you apart…” she began to mutter, clutching her head with the probes.

“Why?” If I was indeed a “holy” thing, that meant some sort of respect, didn’t it? I hated to finally admit it, but I would have to use it to my advantage if I wanted to get out of the Tunnels. Being taken apart wasn’t something I expected.

“The Church of the Machine Goddess is a church no more,” Braze spat the words ruefully. “There was always controversy about the details: when the Unity is going to happen, what we do while we wait – every chapel, every priest had their own idea of how we should live. But it was healthy banter. Until the Winter came.” I saw the same haunted expression I had seen in everypony’s faces who spoke of it. Even seven floors under the earth it left deep scars.

“Every equinoid without exception waited for the Sky Palace to fall,” Braze continued, gathering her tools and other dropped things from the floor. “So many joined the Church then. But the Palace, it still stood in the end and something broke within every equinoid – we waited hundreds of years for that day and it brought only loss.” In her eyes I could see the pain of that loss was personal.

“Since then it wasn’t about fellowship anymore, but only survival. The clerics began to stir up equinoids against the ponies. Disassembling those who weren’t considered faithful enough. The raids. The hunts,” Braze muttered in hollow voice, her eyes empty. “All the chapels united now, but it is not the Unity, not at all.

“There is nothing holy anymore.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “Every day we stray further from what we were supposed to be. On the Church’s ground you’re either part of it, or…” her eyes flickered to the tables behind her piled with many spare parts, “or you’re a part of it.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. It was all just as Adamant Smash told me, only much worse. Braze sat slumped, mourning her fate, I stood awkwardly near her, the cable still connecting us, though it wasn’t the only thing that strung us together. We both had an empty place in our hearts, reserved for beings greater than us. We both still harboured hope for the future.

It was a thought that felt wrong and selfish, but I was incredibly lucky. I couldn’t fathom how any other equinoid would have reacted to me, but one thing was certain – there was no place for me in the Church. I was just material for them, like any other equinoid. Braze just had the courtesy to warn me first.

All of a sudden, Braze froze, her face melting into a smile. Her entire appearance lit up, like somepony flicked a switch.

“I know!” she exclaimed, “I will mark you as infected by nanosprites, they will throw you to the Deep Tunnels in the blink of an eye and all of the Church will stay a gun shot away from you.”

“Wait!” I rushed to Braze as she began to furiously type something on both screens.

“Huh?” She momentarily paused to look at me.

“Can I ask you something first?” While it sounded like a very fortunate solution and I was probably short on time, there were many things I had to know before leaving.

“Sure, anything for you,” she replied with the smile of somepony who just saw the first ray of sunlight after a cold and dark night.

“Before I ended up here, something happened to me, I had hallucinations and…” I began to describe my problem, but she interrupted me with another smile, one of a knowing kind.

“You’ve got yourself a virus, the TCE has launched a new attack recently.” Braze scowled. “Nasty stuff, you are lucky you didn’t get fried like most. But it’s no surprise with you.”

Her gaze shifted to my miniature, still projected in front of her forehead. At an impossible speed her spider limbs flashed over it, followed by her twitching eyes.

“Wow! The solid-body soul vessels,” Braze drawled in wonder, “never seen anything like this. But they are clean, whatever was wrong with them is gone. Though, if I were you I would refrain for the Equi-neT until you got some top-notch antivirus.” Then she apologetically glanced at me, “Sorry, don’t have one, our virus databases are horribly outdated.”

A virus? I was a bit confused – it was something only recently discovered back in my time and I thought it could only affect organic life. A disease created by the TCE to strike its creations. The more I learned about them, the more horrible they were becoming in my eyes. Even the despotic Crown’s atrocities were dwindling compared to that company’s deeds.

“No worries.” I would be fine without the Equi-neT; I wasn’t going to miss pornography, anyway. “Um, can I ask a few questions?” I needed to know more about those “Deep Tunnels”. What was the difference between them and the regular ones? I knew that in Canterlot things could always go worse, but it was hard to imagine in the case of The Tunnels.

“Of course,” Braze replied, still studying both projections, “I’m gonna check your other systems, that’s the least I could do for you.”

“Thanks,” I paused, forming my first question. “What should I expect in the Deep Tunnels?”

Braze paused, too, and scratched her nose with one of her spider legs. I found that gesture strange. What, equinoids could itch?

“A lot of madponies. They are pretty loud, so just walk around them.” Her expression sombered. “The Souleater. Just pray you won’t meet it,” she said with a shiver.

“Who?” But deep inside I knew the answer.

“A horrible beast, spewing fire hot enough to melt anything, some say even arcanium.” A hollow expression overtook her features. “It eats soul vessels, hence the name. Hunts ponies and equinoids alike, tears them apart like a wet tissue. Some priests say it was sent by the Machine Goddess to purge the sinful and that any soul it devours is purified and returns back to Mother.” Braze shook again, more violently this time. “I knew a lot of equinoids who went mad and searched for it so they could be cleansed.”

I would pray to be lucky enough to meet Spike, even though out last confrontation didn’t end well. I doubted I would ever learn from any sources other than himself what caused his madness. And I might not have another chance to visit the Deep Tunnels.

“What else should I be wary about?”

“Honestly? Everything: the cultists, the muties, the Former Ones, other equinoids. If it moves it’s dangerous. If it doesn’t – it just waits,” Braze answered ruefully, shaking her head. Giving me a sympathetic glance, she returned to the screens.

“If the Church equinoids are going to stay away from me, why can’t I just go where I want?”

“They will stay away while you are down there. The Church sends regular raids to ‘retrieve’ the ‘strayed’ souls from the Deep Tunnels. But if you are found on the sixth or seventh level you’re going to be kicked down, like I said. Maybe in the online state, if you are lucky.”

I had no choice, it seemed. If I could, I would have pursed my lips. So I just let out a deep sigh. Braze glanced at me curiously, but said nothing. What? Didn’t she rub her nose a few minutes ago?

“How do I get to the Edge?” I asked my final question. After a pause, I specified, “The Junkyard?”

“Why would… Doesn’t matter. I can’t show you the way, obviously, but I can upload a map to your drive.” I silently cheered to that. “But it is reeeally old – it was last updated a decade or two ago,” Braze continued. “It should be correct enough, though some passages could be flooded or collapsed.”

It was still better than absolutely nothing. Judging by what Braze told me, asking locals in the Deep Tunnels wasn’t an option at all.

“Here we go,” Braze said, unplugging me and taking a step back. “All systems are good, though I would install a better cooling system, and the pneumatics can be replaced with electrical motors, and a steel alloyed plating is better than an aluminum…”

Noticing my slight confusion, she cast her eyes down and rubbed the back of her head, “Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

I could only smile at that. Braze might or might not be doomed, but I had made at least one of her days brighter. Swept by a sudden impulse, I stepped close to her and gave her a hug. At first she was startled by the unexpected movement, but then, awkwardly and unsure returned the gesture as good as she could. “Thanks,” I whispered to her ear, hoping that it was where her audio sensors were. Something crunched under my hoof and I winced. “Sorry about your glasses.”

“That’s no problem,” Braze said as we finally parted the embrace. Smiling, she added, “Are you ready?”

I only nodded in answer.

Braze winked and then… began screeching like a siren.

“For the Mother’s sake, this damn equinoid has a nanosprite infestation all over her! Somebody, get her the fuck out of here! Help! Somebody!”

The Deep Tunnels more than met my expectations based on Braze’s warnings of how bad things would be. After I had spent hours traversing the dark depths, they even exceeded the limits of my imagination, to the point where I wasn’t surprised by anything anymore.

Mere moments after Braze began wailing in fake horror, at least a dozen equinoids rushed to the infirmary-workshop, filling its already cramped space and almost piling onto each other at the door frame. However, none of them were brave enough to get closer to me than an outstretched hoof, not until Alnico Sermon appeared. In his sonorous booming voice he claimed that I was an infidel and the mark of pestilence I carried was nothing other than a punishment inflicted on me by the Machine Goddess herself. “Those,” he said, “true of soul and faith, can’t be touched by any plague, for the Mother protects her devoted children.” That statement incited a race to seize me: the winners thus would prove the strength of their belief and purity of their spirits.

I was rudely grabbed and dragged out of the church into the dark corridors of the seventh level. I found it ironic that Alnico Sermon not only didn’t use his magic to help his “flock” and absolve them of the need to touch the “diseased” equinoid, but kept himself at a formidable distance from me.

The four surly equinoids who carried me all the way to the stairs in absolute silence almost hurled me from the steps and hastily retired, leaving me alone and one floor deeper under Canterlot. That was where my long journey through the Deep Tunnels began.

I had the map and I had my magic, but it all barely helped. When Braze told me that the map was outdated, it was a massive, huge understatement.

Nearly half of the passages marked on the map weren’t traversable at all. Some were flooded with orange, muddy waters, which bled from cracks in the pipes, constantly making the oil film on their surface ripple. Some were filled with still, relatively clean water to just a knee level, and yet I avoided them with trepidation. In these, greenish and murky from the lack of lighting, ominous shadows moved, shimmering with glossy scales.

While some tunnels were simply collapsed from unknown causes, others had been closed. Though it was a very rare occurrence, the passage would be sealed by a thick steel door. And, frankly, I didn’t really want to know the reasons for that. One time I heard somepony or something banging with great force against the metal gate from the other side.

Sometimes, I would discover new paths, something not marked on the map. Their usefulness was unpredictable; I could only guess where they would lead and hope I was right. Surprisingly many of these paths were normal corridors, with functional lighting and smooth surfaces, unlike a few that were mere burrows, dug through the stone and earth with the straight cuts of shovels or with ravaging scars left by large claws. They could even have been made by Spike, I thought.

At first, I readily used these unmarked paths as very useful shortcuts. One occasion, however, changed my attitude, making me very wary of anything that wasn’t on the map.

It started like a usual concrete and steel tunnel, thought it was submerged in utter darkness. Since I avoided using my illumination spell at its full power, I moved through it with a light no stronger than that of a candle. After a few minutes of a careful trot my hooves began to splash through water and mud, and the walls changed from the straight lines of artificial construction to the crude shapes of a passage made by simply moving the material out of the way. The air became humid and hot – the tunnel was likely flooded. It was at that moment when guided by nothing but sheer luck I decided to turn back. Pink tumorous tentacles, glistening with pulsing veins were stretching from the walls towards me, flashing serrated bone shards, shivering with hunger. Barely more than half a minute passed before, shrieking and chaotically casting all the fire spells I knew, I burst out of that nightmarish tunnel trailing smoke in my wake.

I had to stop and spend some time just trying to forget the faces on the walls, eyeless, with gaping and drooling mouths, moaning unnaturally from the endless agony. And the smell of burnt flesh, I thought it would never leave me.

If for a moment I set aside all these countless impassable tunnels, the layout of any levels lying deeper than the seventh was a crime in itself. Two words: random and convoluted. I didn’t know who created this labyrinthine network of underground paths or why, but it felt like it wasn’t made to be practicable at all. The dead ends, tunnels circling into themselves, passages branching many times only to converge again. No reason, no logic – only pure chaos.

When it wasn’t the treacherous geography of the Deep Tunnels, it was their inhabitants who barred my way. The populace, though not abundant, was generously compensating for its meager numbers with “quality”.

As I was warned – the madponies. Only a few ponies I saw skulking through the darkness had any sanity in their eyes. Others… nothing of it. The wailing emaciated forms stumbling in the near blackness with empty or grief stricken expressions, calling, calling endlessly in their hoarse voices. For lost children, for dead friends. While these ponies sang their dirges, slowly succumbing to the fate of those whom they cried for, the raving frenetics were making their erratic journey into unbridled madness. Laughing, yelling or sobbing, they galloped, they bucked, they fought shadows. Easy to notice, the noise betraying their presence, they were the hardest to avoid – led by sheer lunacy alone, the maniacs were impossible to predict. Once I saw a pony, a lovely mare, who was hitting her head against the wall repeatedly. Guided by a sudden impulse to help her, I approached the poor thing, only to see the huge red smear on the wall and a broken face under a broken horn, cackling quietly despite the absence of the jaw.

In the Deep Tunnels I also found the equinoids, or, rather, they found me. The word “equinoid” was barely applicable to these creatures, because most of them had very little resemblance to ponies. The narrow hips and shoulders, slender limbs, long muzzles and bare whip-like tails. They silently hid in the shadows, only the subdued glow of their eyes betraying them. They followed me, crouched, like a cat would follow a mouse. These metal predators showed no signs of sentience when I called them in the darkness, but had enough intelligence to back away from me and stop skulking behind my back at the sight of my horn aglow with magic.

I barely saw any “normal” equinoids; they were just as rare as the sane ponies. In both cases we shot each other glances which were saying, “I can see that you are like me, not a part of this place yet. But I don’t trust you. Nothing can be trusted here.” And then we were dissolving in the darkness, like ravens in midnight.

In another of the flooded tunnels, one with the deceptively clear waters, I met a thing. As I stood, fuming once again at the misfortune in choosing my path, preparing to backtrack, I heard shrill shrieks behind me.

Not far from me, in the dim orange-red light of a dying lamp an enormous hulk of dark steel moved, taking up almost the entire tunnel’s width with its immense size. The gargantua moved slowly, at a leisurely pace, yet with the inevitability and finality of an avalanche. The shrieks were coming from a deranged madpony, a scrawny figure covered in rags and boils in equal proportion, the sick stallion’s eyes burning with desperate insane violence. The lunatic was attacking the metal pony, a bent and rusty crowbar in his unsteady glow of magic haphazardly hitting the blackish plates, to no effect until one of the blind hits landed at the metal head. A hoof thick as a tree trunk shot sideways at an impossible speed, and the delirious unicorn was squashed against the wall with a loud scrunch, like he was but an egg shell. The metal juggernaut didn’t even pause in its inexorable trudge.

At that point, there was no way for me to pass by that thing and with the waters concealing unknown malice right behind me, I was cornered. I ignited my horn, the action which saved my metal hide before, and pressed my back against the wall, hoping that it would be enough for the metal behemoth to leave me alone. But there was no room for hope in this place – I prepared for the worst.

The lumbering form came closer to me and I heard... breaths, calm and heavy coming from two respirators on the sides of the helmet. That moment I realised that I was looking at an exoskeleton of enormous proportion. Arcanium runes, welded into the dark metal, were glistening with magic enchantments. Some I even recognized… from a scroll written by Starswirl the Bearded, containing a spell to bend time. The pieces of the puzzle quickly came together in my mind – whoever was inside that armor was protected not only from mortal perils, but from the mortality brought by the inevitable flow of time. The pony inside had to be ancient. And in that exact moment they turned their head to regard me. Through the narrow tinted strip of glass serving as a visor, two dark eyes peered at me.

Barely visible, nothing but two sparkles in the depths of the reality-violating costume, they slid up to glance at my glowing horn. The pony momentarily, almost imperceptibly faltered in their travel, but didn’t stop and after an incredibly long moment which in fact lasted only for a blink of an eye, turned their head away from me and continued to shamble. The towering giant stepped into the waters, and they churned with the glimpses of dark slithery things covered in scales, fleeing away from the heavy hooves. The ancient disappeared into the darkness as it had come, without a sound, without a trace.

The life detection spell I tried to use every so often proved to be useless. There was something wrong with magic down there. Only the simplest of spells worked properly, and not even every time. I could write it off as me still accommodating to the body, if not for some particular areas.

These passages, looking inconspicuous… I didn’t know how to put it. They looked like any others, but reality was wrong there. I could immediately say that the moment I stepped into them. My whole body would begin to tingle, faint whispers on the very edge of my hearing would arise, chanting something. My vision would darken, as though I was wading through black smoke. The air would feel heavy and thick, pregnant with something ominous, like before a thunderstorm. My magic would start to either flicker out or flare like the Sun, without my will. At one point, when I stepped into such a zone again, in the end of the long corridor I saw a glowing silhouette hovering above the floor. A single glance at it made me feel like hundreds of drills were boring into my head at once.

So, I was sitting at yet another of the dead ends, studying the map. The three dimensional schematic, though existing only in my mind, was suspended right before my eyes, and so far it promised very little. I had spent seven hours here, and I had barely covered a tenth of the distance between where I began and the Junkyard. And that was if I rounded it all in my favor.

Speaking of the map and the clock – my handling of the equinoid magic of virtual reality in my mind improved drastically after I woke up from the nightmares. Not only did I no longer need to yell the commands in my head to make things happen – only to think of them – but a few more options had become available for me. For starters, there was now an hourplate in the very corner of my vision, though I wasn’t sure if it was showing the actual time and date; I had no way to check that. There was also a feature called “Settings” which had many lines regarding the state of my body and options to make changes in its workings. However, I decided to refrain altogether from exploring it and many other features, at least until I had somepony to help me with that. I didn’t want to do something wrong on accident, nor did I have time to waste.

The reason for my lack of progress in the Deep Tunnels was in the excessive backtracking. I would spend about twenty minutes only to discover that the path I chose led to a collapsed tunnel. I would return half-way back, to the intersection I passed before, and take the other turn. It would lead me to a bisection, one way concluding at a flooded section, another with an anomalous zone. On the way back I would run into a group of raving ponies and be forced to make a detour to avoid them. During that by-path I would again stop before untraversable waters, obstructions of rock or whatever else. As a result of all this, I would end up even further from my goal than an hour before.

It wasn’t just frustrating, it was outright maddening. I began to understand why these madponies acted so. Without the map I wouldn’t be able to ever find my way out of the Deep Tunnels at this point.

Another thing making my journey difficult was the ironic fact that the ground available for me to cover was limited. The map contained information about only five floors of the Deep Tunnels; everything deeper was uncharted territory. Venturing there was a huge risk, not only because of another of those flesh-covered tunnels or other horrors I had yet to witness, but because there was a very real chance for me to be lost forever.

But, it seemed, I had no other choice. I had exhausted any path marked on the map available to me. I was either to return to where I started and then go even further away from the Edge or go deeper. Another option was to go back to the seventh level and fight my way through it, which I, of course, wanted to avoid.

I looked at the map again, rotated it, zoomed in and out, hoping I had missed some tunnel. But the only thing I could see were my red notes, marking the passages I couldn’t use. It would take me less than fifteen minutes to reach the staircase leading to the thirteenth level. While the Deep Tunnels were as chaotic as possible, there was a sort of a system in them regarding the populace and the architecture. The deeper they went, the less ponies I would meet and the more of those animalistic equinoids. The magic anomalies I found only on the 11th and 12th levels. Lighting was becoming more scarce with the depth, and the frequency of obstacles was growing. The passages were becoming more narrow, and more of them were simply dug into the rock formation.

Thus, I had a vague idea of what to expect. And I didn’t like it.

Once again, I checked the map. I carefully weighed my options. And then I began to trot towards the staircase leading down.

It was probably the only good thing about the Deep Tunnels – there was almost no smell. But there was another side of that coin – there wasn’t any sound either and barely any light. The thirteenth floor down met me with absolute darkness. I swirled my head around and in the distance, to the right, I saw a light, a little red speckle, no more than a spark in the void.

I decided that I wouldn’t venture too far away from the stairs, and if I found nothing, or rather, anything that blocked my way I would turn back and resort to the first option I had – the huge backtrack.

I couldn’t mark anything that wasn’t on the map like that tunnel, so I simply counted my steps. No matter how hard I tried to walk silently, every time I put my hoof down, it sounded like a hammer – the corridor was silent like a tomb otherwise. Motes of dust danced around me, disturbed from their peaceful slumber on the floor by my crawl.

After two hundred and thirty-seven steps I reached the source of the light. It was a simple lamp on the wall. A hoof-full of red tiny crystals, fading out like the embers of a dying bonfire, phlegmatically circled each other, while their kin who ran out of magic rested on the bottom of the glass cup in a heap of grey dust. This weak glow was enough to create an island of vision two lengths into the pitch blackness. The silence was so deafening, that I could almost hear the lantern wheeze the light out of it.

I peered at the darkness and saw nothing, no other sparkle in the distance, no matter how hard I squinted. Suddenly, the idea of coming here appeared ridiculous to me. What was I thinking? It wasn’t marked on the map for a reason, it was nothing but void. The 12th floor was already bad enough to avoid, going deeper was a pointless risk. Though it meant I had to spend many hours backtracking and who knew how many searching for the path to the Edge, there was at least some certainty in that plan. Stepping away from this spot of light felt like a desperate plunge into the abyss.

Two hundred and thirty seven steps. But… the gaping shadow of the staircase wasn’t there. I dared to flare my illumination spell brighter. Still no entrance. Supressing my panic I turned back.

The soft red glow of the lamp disappeared.

...How?

A sense of dread washed over me. It was impossible, illogical. The narrow corridor was straight like a broom, without any other entrances. I could see both walls clearly enough to not miss the stairs.

I fought back the rising panic. It couldn’t just magically disappear, could it? It had to be here.

For a moment the shining coming from my horn went out, but of my own volition. The absence of light was replaced by a flash followed by a shower of sparks – I made a mark on the wall. I cast away the shadows with my illumination spell and observed the result of my attack on the stone.

On the rough surface of flattened rock two jagged lines criss-crossed each other, clearly visible and palpable. I nodded in satisfaction.

I pressed my left hoof against the wall and began to walk on the other three to where the red dying lamp once shone. This way I would eventually fall into the staircase if I missed it. If that didn’t happen, I would turn back after fifty steps and walk past the mark – the entrance had to be there.

To my dismay, the wall remained smooth after those fifty steps. For a moment I contemplated making another dozen or two, but decided against it – I couldn’t overshoot by that much. I turned around, pressed my left hoof to the wall, at the height where the mark would be and started to trot back.

Fifty. Fifty-five. Sixty. Seventy…

Seventy-five.

No way.

I tried not to panic, but it was almost impossible at this point. The darkness became suffocating, the shadows shivering in answer to the tremors of my body seemed to be alive. And in a sense, they were. Despite the silence I felt like there was something in the dark, soundlessly laughing at my predicament. Something had to be out there, either casting masterful illusions or molding the stone like clay to its own perverted sense of humor.

But I saw no flashes of light, heard no sound – fifty steps wasn’t far enough to miss such.

For the first time the dark thought crawled into my mind – the labyrinthine nature of the Deep Tunnels might not be without a purpose. It might a trap of immense proportions, its magic unnoticed because of the sheer scale – paradoxically, spells of such size were very hard to notice because they were merely felt like a background. It was a horrifying thought, not because of the consequences I was experiencing first-hoof, but because I couldn’t imagine a sorcerer capable of casting something like this.

Regardless of the cause, I had to find my way out, somehow.

Because my magic ability was limited, I couldn’t cast a wide range dispelling sorcery, and blasting the wall every step with it wasn’t a reasonable option either. And that was if I was dealing with an illusion after all.

If the physical structures were constantly shifting and changing, there had to be a system – magic spells, no matter how grand, never had any random variables in them, it was too dangerous. That meant that sooner or later the entrance would appear anew, somewhere. Though it was strange I was able to find it in the first place; it was on the map, after all. Wait… it could mean the stairs had to be at that exact place, only later to disappear and even later to reappear. I began to see the logic of this trap. Entrances and exits rotating between predetermined places, to lure potential victims in and then confuse them. That revelation meant two things: the staircase most likely would reappear and… the mysterious caster might come to pick up its prey.

Since following that logic I could run into the trap-maker regardless of if I stayed or left, the threat was unavoidable. But on the upside, if I was right the only thing I needed to do was wait for the stairs to materialize. With no other options left, I made a quick calculation and took twenty-five steps back.

I sat with my back to the wall opposite to where I hoped the exit would be and intensified my light spell to the point where I would be able to clearly see about ten steps away from me, a distance, I supposed, big enough to cover any inconsistencies in my gait.

And then I waited.

I opened all my senses, my hearing strained so hard that I began to hear the silence buzz, my eyes darting left and right for any signs of the movement. One time I even let my spell go out and tried to feel magic around me, but besides that of a horrible magic background noise, I felt nothing, though it was a bit concerning because it was proving my theory.

Half an hour passed. Then another thirty minutes. Nothing changed.

The waiting, the constant vigilance were becoming taxing. Soon, I realized, I might start imagining things in the dark. I already thought I saw the darkness moving. Wait… there was something. I heard the faintest shuffle, as though a tail was momentarily dragged across the dust, but at this point I wasn’t sure it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me.

Then, from the darkness a dirty muzzle showed itself belonging to a pony.

The rest of its owner’s body soon followed. I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or vexed. It was a madpony, a perfect example of a lunatic. Expressionless eyes looking at things in another world, blighted skin tight on bones, rags dirty from blood and feces failing to cover the body, trembling limbs, barely supporting the dying mindless frame. There was one thing about the crazy pony appearance that made me wince – cheeks cut through to the ears to make the frenetic’s smile morbidly and preternaturally wide. Like shredded curtains, flaps of flesh hung around the bared rotten teeth. The deranged stallion wasn’t looking at me, but rather at my horn, lured by its light like a moth, his black irises just pinpricks. For a single moment I felt pity for that pony; he likely hadn’t seen any light in a long time.

I tensed up and, having no other option, prepared a stunning spell. Slowly, like wading through water, and surprisingly soundlessly, the lunatic moved in my direction. Five steps away from me he stopped and began to make gurgling sounds, he was laughing I realized. I seriously doubted he could manage to do any damage to me, but he was at lunging distance, so I decided to count to ten and then blast him away. I let out a sigh. Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…

“Youuuu…” the madpony suddenly croaked. I blinked in surprise.

“You… are one of the harbingers-harbingers…” All of sudden, his gaze obtained terrifying lucidity as the bulged eyes finally left my horn to meet my own, though his expression was still impossible to read.

Confused, I blinked again. Harbingers of what? The light? Despite the momentarily glimpse of sanity through the veil of madness obscuring the obviously irreversibly deranged mind, I doubted his words had any sense.

As proof to my guess, the crazy stallion’s next words were nothing but gibberish intermixed with sobs and cackling. Six… Five… Four…

“You must come-come!” he began to patter, regaining his semi-sanity once again. “To the temple-temple… the divinity awaits your arrival-arrival!” Ah, the cultists. I almost forgot I still had to meet one. Or maybe I did already, if all the others looked like this.

“The other harbinger-harbinger… she is already there, waiting-waiting… the Laughing Mistress, I can hear-hear… the eternal laughs-laughs...” The stallion giggled and then resumed marveling at my horn, whispering under breath, “The star-star… so pretty-pretty…”

I glanced at the wall in front of me, smooth as ever. How long did I have to wait? Another hour? A day? A week? Not to mention the possibility of the powerful mage on the prowl. Following a madpony, a cultist, no less, was a madness in itself. But what choice did I have? Though it was weak reasoning, a cult had to have some sort of organisation and thus a somewhat sane mind behind it, a mind that could possibly help me to find a way out. All I had at the moment was a hypothesis that at some point a path would miraculously appear before me. Put like this, it was just another sort of insanity.

“Alright, then.” I let another sigh. “Lead the way.”

The stallion laughed, his chortles becoming sobs at the end. “Follow-follow,” he said and soundlessly trotted into the darkness. I gave the stubborn wall one final glance and dashed behind the stallion, to catch up with his surprisingly nimble form.

I followed the cultist through the darkness, which didn’t seem to impair his navigation in the slightest. The stallion cantered, periodically sobbing, giggling or muttering something incomprehensible to himself. His movements were somewhat erratic, but there was a pattern in them – he always hopped over the cracks on the floor and on every turn he would stop to paw the floor and then stomp three times before proceeding. The lunatic never stopped, aside from that little ritual, navigating the narrow paths relentlessly. At some point I began to suspect that there might be no temple, that the only thing that guided us was his deformed imagination. And the fact that we descended at least four levels deeper only made my concerns grow.

Suddenly, my conductor disappeared behind a corner, which was strange, because he didn’t pause for his peculiar exercise. Deciding not to risk it, I peered around the corner and my mouth fell agape from surprise.

A tall chamber with carved columns and a vaulted ceiling overgrown with spiraling stalactites opened before me. Astonished, I slowly walked inside.

That place was as amazing as it was strange. It somewhat reminded me of the church of the Machine Goddess, likely because both served the same purpose. How and most importantly by whom it was created was escaping my comprehension. Lanterns, glowing with crystals swirling inside them, were bathing the cavernous room in lilac light, though it was apparent they were a scarce thing – nor did their glow amount to enough to completely cast away the darkness – at least half of the temple was a slave to the shadows. Despite the fangs of a rocky overgrowth on the roof, the floor was dry and clean and it was then that I noticed another thing that boggled my mind. Pews. Rows of wooden pews, a material I thought was extinct in Canterlot. On them ponies sat, looking just as sick and deranged as the stallion who led me here and who was now nowhere to be found. They rocked back and forth, whispering, filling the hall with the uncanny rustle of voices preaching insanity. Finally my gaze fell to the object at the opposite wall from the entrance, mirroring the placement of the beautiful statue from another sanctuary, however, this time I couldn’t see what it was – the bright source of light behind it was blinding me. It was something like a cut straight and sloped slab of stone, almost vertical, two lengths tall and one and half wide. Around it ponies sat silently and still like statues, shrouded in torn clothes. Somehow, I felt drawn to it.

As I was making my way past the pews to the sacred stone I began to see something lying on it… a body. From nowhere came an avalanche of emotions. Grief and turmoil, giddiness and joy. I sped up and, breaking my gallop, stopped in front of the monolith.

The dessicated body of an earth pony, dainty hooves crossed on the chest. The smiling face with an expression of the purest and the most genuine mirth. The curly voluminous mane long enough to reach its flanks, the tail just as long, and despite both being touched by streaks of silver amidst the rivers of fuschia, vibrant as if time itself forgot about their existence. The coat, shining with pink even in the lavender glow of the cressets.

The cutie mark – three air balloons, two cyan and one yellow.

Unable to avert my eyes from the sight before me, through tearless sobs, I squeezed out only one word.

“Pinkie...”

Suddenly one of the shrouded figures gasped loudly and came to life. A pair of glowing violet eyes, wide from shock, stared at me from the depths of the hood.

“Twilight Sparkle?” whispered a slightly familiar shaking voice. “Is that really you?”

Author's Notes:

I don't have a lot of news at the moment. Chapter 10 is being edited. Chapter 11 is finished, but untouched. I've started working on chapter 12, but hasn't accomplished much yet - this week was tiresome. Fortunately, I've taken a two week leave which starts this Monday, so I may be able to not only finish the 12th, but either to write one more or return to the side projects.

Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.

As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 10 – canterlot:\tr.exe

“Twilight Sparkle? Is that really you?”

Those words continued to echo in my mind. They were spoken in a strange and quivering, feminine voice I had heard before, I was sure, but couldn’t recall when and where. Despite every fiber of my being demanding to turn back to Pinkie’s body, the reasoning in me forced my attention to the speaker – the mare who recognized me.

I stared back at the the hooded… was she a pony or equinoid? I couldn’t tell. Slowly, as if afraid of me, the mare stood up and took a few steps in my direction. Using her hooves the stranger removed the hood, revealing her astonished face. It had to be a mask – I had never seen anything like it: the front of her head was covered in iridescent liquid metal. Occasionally, the silver droplets would fall upwards from her face and then, after lingering in the air for a fleeting moment of indecision, drop back, sending little waves rippling on the everflowing surface. The waves of quicksilver undulated around the base of her horn, trying to go up, clinging to the spirals, as if the liquid was a living being intent on reaching the tip of it, and then ebbing in rhythm with an invisible heart.

Her eyes were of the deepest and most vibrant violet. They were obviously artificial, but so far these prosthetics were the closest to natural of any I had seen so far. The ianthine glowing irises were almost imperceptibly moving – just like the irises of a living being would do.

Hanging over one of the eyes was her mane – it was a very highly detailed magic projection, pale cornflower blue in color with just as pale cerulean stripes. Although giving the impression of the Princesses’ ethereal manes, it was devoid of any stars and didn’t move at all – only the occasional wave of the image refreshing itself would pass every few seconds.

Her illusory mane was coiling around her horn – it was long, longer than unicorns usually had, and was made from the rare yet familiar metal – arcanium. But it wasn’t just a solid spike of metal – in the hollows of spirals I could see a soft glow. It had to be an amplifying crystal inside. With such equipment even a foal would be able to vaporize me on the spot.

The mare’s horn wasn’t the only part of her appearance where arcanium could be found. Actually, it seemed like her entire body was covered in plates of the precious metal. They moved smoothly like scaly skin, perfectly aligned to each other. I couldn’t even tell if it was armor or the plating of an equinoid chassis – not a single gap between the shifting segments betrayed the nature of this mare. Some of them were covered in old scratches and burns looking like scars on an actual coat.

This mare was bigger than a normal pony, almost as big as a zebra from the Jangwa Tribe or a Saddle Arabian – she was slightly towering over me. I would have said that she was a half-blood, if not for her constitution – her body was lithe, far more slim and slender than the body of any equine – more of a predator than an ungulate.

What I took just for a hood was actually a cloak. Tattered and dirty, it was starkly contrasting with the gleaming body. I guess it was supposed to be violet in color, matching the mare’s eyes, but it had lost its luster long ago. Now it was covered in grime, the most noticeable were smears of yellow and white.

Resting on her side, poking out from the cover of the cloth rested a weapon. It was a gun. No. The Gun. It wasn’t as much as a weapon as a piece of art, obviously handmade. The polished wooden handle was shining with a rich matte-finished obsidian color. A pink engraved treble clef was adorning its smooth surface. The metal parts were polished and black-oxidized, but not completely, so the steel was grey and matte-finished too, matching the charcoal handle. The weapon was giving off a feeling of immense power.

But the most odd thing about this mare was her magic. I could feel it emanating from her like heartbeats. But it was... wrong. It was as if I put my hoof in the river and expected water to flow in a certain direction, like it always did. In her case… the flow was sideways and it was very cold.

As I studied the mare, wracking my mind in an attempt to recognize her, I realized she was still looking at me with wide eyes shining with hope – she was waiting for me to say something, her name, likely. It was to no avail. Her voice did ring a bell, but not her appearance – I would have remembered somepony who looked even remotely like this.

Finally, I gave up.

“I’m afraid I don’t who you are, sorry,” I said, genuinely apologetic. I really wanted to be able to recognize her – she wouldn’t have asked my name if she was my enemy. And though it sounded a bit selfish, I was in desperate need of friends in a place like this.

The light of hope in her eyes didn’t falter, however. She took another step towards me and, smiling, pointed with one of her hooves at her chest.

“I know, I look different, but it’s me – Trix.”

Who?

Seeing no recognition in my eyes, she continued, “Trixie Lulamoon. Don’t you remember me?”

Trixie Lulamoon? I had never… wait a moment. Was it the name of that ever boasting mare with an ego of the size of the moon from the years before the war? That “great and powerful” one who made the Ursa Minor wreck Ponyville, and then I had never seen her again? But… how?

“Yes… I remember you,” I said slowly and uncertainly. There had to be more than that one time, I was missing something.

For the first time Trixie’s expression of expectation and hope wavered, changing into that of confusion, starting to mirror mine.

“I thought you died during the transference attempt. We all thought you died,” Trixie spoke with a relieved smile. “I wish Moondancer was alive to see you, she would be so happy,” she then added with a tinge of sadness.

She was clearly speaking of the time I didn’t really live through, so that was why I couldn’t remember her. And she spoke of Moondancer like she knew her personally. However, it only added to my growing confusion, and judging by the notes of desperation in her voice, it was noticeable.

“Twilight, I know it’s you. It’s your magic, I can sense it…” Now I could even see the shadow of fear in her eyes, but she didn’t give up, “Don’t you remember how we worked together? You, Pinkie, Moondancer and I?”

And then it all clicked in my mind. That strange voice in the recording from the Archives – it was Trixie. Somehow, she ended up working with Moonie and me on the transference. A friendship that happened in another life. And somehow she lived for five centuries, became a Former One... the Magician. Of course!

But there was an explanation to be made.

“Trixie, I’m not exactly the same Twilight you know,” I began, and she looked at me more confused than ever, trepidation slowly overtaking her features. “Apparently, I had been leaving a very powerful imprint on my recording crystals, and when a filly from the Edge used them to create an equinoid, she accidently brought me back to life.” After a momentary thought I added another detail, to explain why I looked like this. “I took this body from the Royal Archives.” I could see that my story had struck her speechless already. “I don’t recall anything beyond the trial with Rainbow Dash.”

A few expressions went through her mask-face: bewilderment, amazement, and in the end – awe. Then she began to laugh, but more from relief than amusement, I realized.

“All those years,” Trixie wheezed between the guffaws, “we were beating our heads against the wall trying to make the True Transference happen, and you just… you just made yourself a lich without even knowing it!”

Trixie’s chuckles finally winded down and she stared at her hooves, shaking her head in amazement, beaming like a filly, which was resulting in a bit of an uncanny combination with her eerie appearance.

“I never thought I would ever see you again, Twilight. You can’t imagine how glad I am, even though you almost don’t remember me.” She looked up at me, and her eyes shone with more than just happiness and hope, but a stalwart resolve. “And if you are alive, it changes everything.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, growing confused once again. And I still couldn’t decide if it really was a good thing that I had just met Trixie. It felt like I almost remembered something about her I didn’t like, not at all, and I wasn’t talking about that encounter in Ponyville.

“I will explain it on the way,” she curtly replied and motioning with her hoof turned to the exit, prepared to leave. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” I myself refused to move, it was all too sudden for me, I had too many questions. “Where are we going? And what about Pinkie Pie? Why is she here?” I glanced at her body supine on the slab of stone.

Trixie unceremoniously grabbed me with her magic, which felt like a bucket of icy water was doused on me, and began to drag me behind herself as she headed from the temple.

“She isn’t going anywhere, but we are going to my place,” she threw over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Twilight, I will answer all your questions and more.”

Though I didn’t really appreciate such treatment, I could understand it – whatever Trixie had in mind, she acted with the urgency of somepony who had finally seen an opportunity after many years of waiting. She had finally gotten a chance to realize her hope. And nor did I remember her as an extremely polite pony.

For the first few minutes we trotted through the tunnels in silence, or rather, Trixie trotted and I cantered behind her, trying to catch up with her long-legged gait. Not taking into account the fact she was navigating the ever changing underground without any trouble, there was another ominous thing about her – the way she dealt with the darkness. Her majestic horn didn’t glow, on the contrary – the shadows, concentrated to pitch black ribbons, swirled and bubbled around it. There wasn’t any light, there was an absence of darkness around us. It certainly was unnatural, and without any doubt dark magic was involved. At first it troubled me greatly, but then I remembered that when I worked with Trixie she had already been using it and apparently I thought it wasn’t much of an issue back then.

With Trixie, who lived at the same time as I did and then through the next five centuries, I had, maybe not thousands, but hundreds questions I wanted to ask. And for the first time in a while I felt like I would finally be able to get all the answers.

I thought of Pinkie and the mystery of how her body had ended up in the Deep Tunnels of all places, of my other friends and their unknown fates. I thought of Spike and my forthcoming journey to Stalliongrad. I remembered the Royal Archives, full of misinformation and I recalled the question I asked back then, the key question which held the answer to everything.

“Trixie,” I called her. She turned to glance at me over her shoulder and slowed down a bit. There was a look in her eyes like she was a teacher who was waiting, wondering when her student would finally give up and demand the resolution for the undefeatable riddle.

“What happened to Equestria?” The response to this question probably wouldn’t be short, but it would be the answer to most, if not all, of my countless inquiries.

Trixie slowed further down, until we walked side by side. It was a weird thought, but her towering figure brought back memories of how Princess Celestia had taught me during our walks through the Royal Gardens.

For some time she simply walked forward, deep in her thoughts. For the first time I really paid attention to our surroundings, and I was left disturbed by them. The passage was very ambiguous in nature – I couldn’t tell if it was artificial and deteriorated with time, or natural but refined. It also felt as though we were passing the same place over and over, so monotonous it was.

Then finally she spoke.

“The thing is, it all began after that accident with you and Rainbow Dash,” Trixie said thoughtfully, recollecting memories of what had transpired half a millennium ago. “All of the unicorns who were there were knocked out. You survived, but were seriously injured.” There were words unspoken in that phrase. Even though I accepted Rainbow’s death, it was no less painful to hear about it.

There was a momentary pause as Trixie glanced at me with empathy. She knew what I felt – she couldn’t not, if we indeed were friends. Letting me mourn for a moment more, she continued.

“The incident had everypony shaken to the core, but Rarity got it the worst.” I dreaded to hear what happened next. Though many ponies would say Fluttershy was the most emotional of my friends, I knew that the demure pegasus had a steel-hard core deep inside her, while Rarity was always pure emotion through and through.

“She seized total control of the temporary government with a group of her political allies – it was a military coup, basically.” I blinked in surprise. I wouldn’t say it was impossible, but it was a really unexpected move from Rarity’s side. The only reason she alone remained involved in the running the temporary government was that she could at least do something, unlike the rest of us. And she also personally knew most of the Canterlot elite, most importantly, the nobles.

“The first thing they did was remove you and Moondancer from the executive positions.” I frowned – I didn’t like where this was going. Trixie glanced at me warily, before proceeding, “Right after, they ordered the production of five dozen cybersuits.”

“What!?” I exclaimed in utter shock and anger. But the armor failed! Rainbow died, I was injured… Rarity had lost her mind, clearly – while loss after loss drove me into the clutches of phlegmatic depression, Rarity was overtaken by maniacal desperation.

“Yes,” confirmed Trixie, unperturbed by my outburst. “You were in a coma, and though Moondancer was already awake by that point, she couldn’t protest, since she had no power anymore.” I was still seething from the sheer stupidity of that decision, muttering curses under my breath.

“However,” Trixie said loudly, in order to quiet me, “the cybersuits not only didn’t explode, but they turned the tables of the war.” I was sincerely jarred by this news. So it might not be my failure then, it was either an accident or sabotage. That brought little peace to my mind, though. After all, no matter what happened, it took Rainbow away.

We took another sharp turn and once again I wondered how Trixie knew the way through the Deep Tunnels. Though it was unlikely, she could even have been the one who cast the spell on them. Dark magic didn’t equal power, but I couldn’t discard that possibility either. I would certainly ask her later, but right now I yearned to learn about what happened next – her words finally promised something good.

“After a year of victories, the Equestrian army came to the walls of the Crystal Palace. However, the siege couldn’t succeed, not until King Sombra was betrayed...” Suddenly, her voice trailed off and a hollow melancholic expression overtook her features. She must have been there, I realized, living through the horrors of the war.

Trixie cleared her throat, making me wonder if it was just a symbolic gesture, or if she had living flesh hidden under the arcanium armor. I still didn’t know if she had an entirely mechanical body. In the recording she mentioned that the transference might have worked if dark magic was used. But again, no matter how good that question was, I had to focus on the story of the events which took place after my “death”.

“The war was won that day.” Even though Trixie managed to compose herself, her voice was strained and it didn’t sound jubilant in the slightest. “But by the next week all the cities in Equestria, except for Canterlot, fell one after another.”

It felt like she struck me, I staggered so hard, I had to stop to prevent myself from falling. Trixie held my shoulder and as I flashed her a pained glance, in her eyes I saw the same hurt, if not stronger.

“How?” I managed to squeeze out only one word from my quivering lips. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Vanhoover, Las Pegasus, Cloudsdale… hundreds of thousands of pony lives.

“It was the last order King Sombra had given to the Coven – to strike the largest cities. Manehattan was the sole city to evacuate its population, but only partially.” One last atrocity from that monster, carried out by his acolytes, no less vile. The amount of blood it took to wash the stain of his hatred from this world was horrifying. I understood why that war was called “Great” now.

“But it was only the beginning,” Trixie continued in a somber and sorrowful tone. Everything inside me shrunk. If the loss of most of the Equestrian population was only the start – what horrible things could have come after? But even before she spoke again, I realized that it was only what followed the Great War that defined the world now, not the war itself.

Trixie looked at me with pained sympathy, similar to the medics who had to inform their patients of the imminent amputation of a limb. It was going to hurt, I knew, it was going to cripple.

She gulped and cast her eyes to the floor.

“Shining Armor was assassinated by the remnants of the Coven a week after his return. Princess Luna didn’t return and wasn’t answering any missives. The temporary government not only didn’t step down from power, they took a tighter grip on what was left from Equestria. In the next few years things became so bad Pinkie and Fluttershy organized a rebellion, but it was crushed. Fluttershy was exiled to the Everfree Forest and Pinkie was put into an asylum.”

Every sentence was spoken in a voice devoid of any emotion, with the haste of a precise cut, something that had to be done despite the pain it inflicted. I began to shake. The Crown, the Pink Butterflies – it all began to make horrifying sense, the answers I craved for so much had finally found me, but they came at a price.

“What happened to Cadence?” I blurted out in desperation. “Why had nopony contacted Princess Luna directly? Why wasn’t I the part of that rebellion? Where was Applejack?” But I knew I was only making it worse, thrashing on the operational table against the knives of truth slicing my body to numbness.

“King Sombra executed Cadence during the first year of war. Princess Luna was reported to have finally found the changeling hive and sacrifice herself to destroy it. The magic explosion was so strong that it could have been felt in Canterlot. And you had just come out of a coma, blind and semi-paralyzed. Applejack had had problems with her health and died a few years before the rebellion.” The painful answers in a detached voice rang through the air.

The world span before my eyes and I found myself on my knees. I couldn’t remember the fall. Trixie was instantly at my side, holding my shuddering form in her hooves. With my face pressed against her chest I wept.

I wept for my brother and for my sister-in-law. Knowing that they had passed away was one thing, but learning how was completely different. The cursed Great War took them away, and what was most maddening was the fact that it was fought for nothing in the end.

I wept for Princess Luna. Even though I already knew of her terrible fate, hearing it confirmed only re-opened that wound. The fact that she avenged Princess Celestia’s murder barely held any nobility; the throne was sacrificed for that.

I wept for my friends – now I was certain that the Archive entries were lies, behind which lay painful truths. Pinkie and Fluttershy banished like criminals. Rainbow and Applejack dead, the latter most likely assassinated – I refused to believe she fell victim to any illness at such an young age. And Rarity simply went insane.

I wept for Equestria. It was no more, succumbed to the madness which followed the war.

Even though I knew that in another life, another Twilight must have shed many actual tears for each and every one of these losses, I still wept.

However, the grief didn’t consume me entirely – albeit ravaged by sorrow, I was still clearly hearing the voice of reason placating me. I wasn’t mourning as much at their demise as the circumstances. Half a millennium passed, only a few, like Trixie, had endured the onslaught of time, but they were the exception, everypony I knew should have been gone a long time ago. It was the knowledge I carried with myself from the moment I learned how long my “sleep” had lasted.

I suddenly understood why I actually attempted the transference. Despite everything, I didn’t give up – the mechanical body was the only option for me to oppose the darkness that was engulfing Equestria, I was crippled and I was...

Held by two metal hooves I grew completely still – the words said by Trixie echoed in my mind and one of them had finally caught up with me.

“...And you had just come out of a coma, blind...”

And other words, spoken hours ago by the corrupt priest resonated sharply from my memory in answer.

“...they betrayed our Goddess! They blinded her…”

Coincidence is a lazy word for lazy ponies.

I stubbornly refused to believe it, though I once again returned to that crazy theory. It had to be wrong, I was imagining things. Tweaking the results. Hanging on to words. It couldn’t be true – the Machine Goddess was in the Sky Palace, waiting for her children, and I was here. The transference took away my life when it was attempted. For every match of the facts there was a contradiction. It was nonsense.

Another of Starswirl’s quotes came to my mind: “When you think things through, either everything makes sense or nothing does.”

And so I asked a question that must have sounded strange and very out of place in the current situation, but I knew that the pony who was still holding me in her hooves was the only one who could put an end to this conundrum.

“Trixie,” I said in a tight voice and looked up to meet her eyes. Somehow, she looked like she knew what I was about to ask, “who is the Machine Goddess?”

She didn’t look surprised at the question, but a melancholic forlorn expression once again overtook her face.

“So, you know already.”

My proverbial heart fell in my chest. She must have been joking.

All of a sudden, Trixie spoke in a clear loud voice thick with nostalgia.

“I was already living in the Tunnels when Pinkie managed to escape from the asylum and found me. Some time after, you and Moondancer learned about her and started to visit us. We began to work together.” She smiled recollecting the bright memories. “You worked on the enchantments, Moonie was a prodigy when it came to the mechanics, Pinkie was the best moral support any pony could wish for.” Trixie chuckled mirthlessly. “And she seemed to be the only one who remembered both of you had to eat and sleep. And I… I was helping whatever way I could. My…” she paused, searching for the right words, “predicament… left me in dire need for a replacement body, so I often served as a lab rat. Not that I minded.” Then her expression sombered. “After you were lost in the Transference, ” she motioned at my frame with her chin, “that body was taken away by the Crown.”

Cradled in her hooves, I listened to the story in astonished silence. The recollection of the events that brought Equestria to ruin hadn’t incited any positive emotions, obviously. But it was… impersonal. There was no place on their grand scale for individuals. Those times were survived by the nation. This story… every moment of it was lived, leaving a permanent mark on the heart. I could hear countless words unspoken, of the years of friendship, of light-hearted rivalry, of struggle between the four ponies, yet experienced by one singular soul.

Trixie paused again and I saw tears of liquid metal form below her eyes and trace their path down her cheeks before they became a part of her face again. “We were already very old back then. Pinkie passed away in her sleep. Moonie… she grew mad with grief. In desperation she had stolen your body from the Palace. I still remember her face when you… it… didn’t recognize Pinkie. Moondancer just let the Royal Guard take her away that day, never to be seen again.”

I felt a pang of petty and inappropriate jealousy – I wished I could cry tears too, even if it was artificial. The heavy silence stretched on and I thought it was the end of the story, but after a deep sigh, Trixie continued.

“I was left alone and…” She laughed bitterly. “I ran away. It wasn’t my best of moments.” She paused to clear the tightness in her voice. “I took the latest mechanical body, the best Moonie ever made – her magnum opus, and left Canterlot. By the time I came back, there were already runaway equinoids living in the Tunnels. They learned of our lives and departures second-hoof and wove them into one single tale, the cornerstone of their faith. And I learned that Moondancer had to submit all the research you and she made, so the Transference Paradox wouldn’t be called ‘Twilight’s Paradox’. She didn’t want you to be remembered only for that.”

Yes, it was all making sense now, indeed. I wasn’t the Machine Goddess, the four us were. In a sense, she had never existed, but she wasn’t a lie either. Before, I didn’t know what to think, because I couldn’t believe the truth. Now, I didn’t know what the truth was anymore.

As if reading my mind, Trixie spoke in her strange echoing voice. Like two ponies speaking almost in unison, I realized.

“Between the two of us left alive, only you deserve that title – after all, you were the one who created the fundamental enchantments for artificial intelligence – the Prime Code, the only thing Moondancer refused to submit.” The glimpse of that giddy smile from before graced her face. “And, you are here and now. I’m just a pony who wore the body made by the best mechanic to ever live.”

I got up from Trixie’s hooves and sat on the floor not far from her.

If I had learned something, it was that I had to face the truths and accept them, no matter how hard they were. But it wasn’t as much about the hardness as about the sheer scale, something I knew from the first time that guess visited my mind.

I wasn’t the Machine Goddess, but I was the closest to her anypony ever had been or would be. Was it my responsibility? After all, I did have a hoof in creating them, even more – my mind gave birth to their “souls”. Was it my right? Who I was to take the mantle of a deity? I was just a pony, as lost in this nightmare as they were. Could I allow myself to leave Canterlot now, when I was supposed to be the mother for an orphaned nation? Would I snuff their hope out with my own hoof? Would I absolve them of any future but rust?

Minutes passed by as I gazed into the darkness of the tunnel, but it answered not. Nopony held the answer to any of these questions, only me.

Behind me, Trixie called. I turned and saw the genuine empathy in her eyes. We were friends, after all. Like any of them, she could read me like an open book, something that always irked me and yet warmed my heart.

“It is only up to you what to make of all of this, but there is one thing you must know, something I intended to tell you from the beginning.” I took a few steps towards her. “You may think all is lost, but there is hope still.”

I blinked. I remembered, the words Trixie said, that my presence was changing everything. But she wasn’t talking about the Machine Goddess, was she?

“When I left Canterlot I traveled across all Equestria – to the ruins of the destroyed cities, found a great friend out where. Together we’ve journeyed even beyond the borders of Equestria.” There was that look again, the melancholic recollection of things gone so long ago, but still dear. But this time there was something else to it. “And at the Badlands we saw… her.”

A bizarre mix of dread and desperate hope in the eyes of the immortal.

Trixie gulped.

“Princess Luna might have died. But Nightmare Moon… she still lives.”

What.

Did I hear that right? Nightmare Moon was alive? But… that was not how things worked. Nightmare Moon was Luna, they were not two separate entities… There was room for debate in the case of the Machine Goddess, but everything Trixie had just said was wrong on every level.

“Slow down, Trixie.” I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt; after all, she saw something. “Start from the beginning: what exactly did you see?”

“After visiting the ruins of Baltimare we decided to go to Dodge City right through Hayseed Swamps, but without the map we got lost and ended up in the Badlands instead,” she began explaining in a hasty and somewhat offended manner. “I’ve never been there before, but I was sure it wasn’t supposed to be covered in alarm spells at every step, cast by a pony no less. We learned it only when it was too late, and the night, Twilight, it descended on us, claiming that we were changelings in the most horrifying voice I’ve ever heard.” Trixie shuddered. “I don’t know how we made it out alive. Both of us lost our bodies.”

I decided not to pay my attention to the last detail, instead I focused on what Trixie said before. Paradoxically, it seemed she was right – everything was pointing to Princess Luna having survived, but her state of mind was an altogether different question. That fact was implying a few other questions: if she had survived and accomplished her task, why didn’t she return? Why was she still out there, hunting? Had she destroyed the hive?

However, there was one more important question.

“You do realize I can’t use the Elements, right?” I was not only alone, but they stopped working for me a long time ago, and I wasn’t sure that would ever change.

“I know, but we aren’t talking about the Nightmare Moon,” Trixie retorted patiently. “She hasn’t brought eternal night or anything like that, she is just mad with a vendetta. I’m pretty sure if she is to meet somepony she knows, her mind will clear up.” However, I couldn’t hear any certainty in Trixie’s voice.

Trixie was looking at me with so much hope and expectation in her eyes that I couldn’t bear it. I sat down, stared at my hooves and began to think.

I could imagine for her it was all pretty simple – the Goddess would come and fix everything. Except it wasn’t. While I wished Queen Chrysalis’ death no less than Princess Luna, in the latter years of the war I started to find her conviction… unhealthy. I didn’t know if it was her zeal or something else, but Princess Luna eventually abstracted herself from all the issues Equestria had at that moment, even though her help would have been invaluable. It often felt as if Queen Chrysalis killed both Princesses. So, bringing her back wouldn’t miraculously resolve anything, and some things, like the lack of resources or the unnatural winters – such things were beyond her power anyway. But. According to Tin Flower’s words, somepony from the Crown had taken on themselves the responsibility for the sun and moon, and though it might happen many years later, that pony would become unable to guide the celestial bodies when Canterlot finally shared the fate of the other cities in Equestria. It was not Equestria that needed Princess Luna, but the entire world.

That was not how I expected the meeting with a Former One to go. Instead of clearing things up and helping me with my predicament, things had suddenly gotten much more convoluted, presenting me with burdens of a great scale. And the worst thing was that I had a choice. I had no real obligation to help either Trixie or the equinoids. There was friendship between Flower, Wire, Delight and me. Even with all that aside, I owed them. I had to save Spike, obviously. However, I didn’t really belong to this world, to its problems. In a sense, my life was a blank page, I had gotten a second chance. And what I had just learned was threatening to blot it out with blood-red ink, for Canterlot had no other colors left.

But I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with that if I just left. The Elements of Harmony had stopped working for me, but I couldn’t stop working for them, it seemed.

“What is your plan, then?” I asked Trixie, finally raising my eyes to meet hers. It was like giving a present to a filly on Hearth’s Warming Eve. And I found it funny that a pony who used dark magic was able to radiate so much sunniness.

“We are going to my hideout, where I will grab the map and some crystals, and then I’m taking you to the workshop before departing to the Badlands.“ A simple plan, but good, though the part with the workshop wasn’t really necessary.

“I’ve just been at the chapel, the technopriest told me that I’m good,” I voiced my thoughts, noting that mention of the Church made Trixie scowl in annoyance momentarily.

“It is not about maintenance,” she retorted and then explained, “you’re going to need harder hooves, the path is going to be rocky, you will grind these to nothing half-way.”

A fair point. Especially considering the fact that I was planning to ask her for a detour.

“Do you remember the filly I mentioned, who made my first body?” How strange it must have sounded, I realized. “I’d like to visit her before we head to the Badlands. We aren’t in a hurry, are we?” I decided not to mention that I would have visited Flower regardless of what Trixie was going to answer. Paradoxically, that filly meant more to me than a goddess.

“We aren’t. I’d like to see the genius who brought you back to life with my own eyes,” she said with a chuckle. “She must be living at the Junkyard.” I nodded. “It is on the way.”

Trixie stood up, dusted off her cloak – the remains of her old cape and hat stitched together, I realized – and twirled on her hooves. And then she began to trot in the direction we came from.

“Erm, Trixie…” She stopped and turned her head to me, one brow raised in question. I could have asked her about her strange choice of route, but instead I struck deeper: “How do you orient yourself in these tunnels? They kept changing almost right before my eyes.”

“You don’t know?” Trixie asked, surprised. It was my turn to raise my brow. “How did you find the Temple of the Forgotten Deities?” she inquired, sounding even more incredulous.

“Some lunatic showed me the way,” I replied. In retrospect I realized how incredibly lucky I was.

“Yeah, Pinkie acts like a magnet for them,” Trixie shook her head in disapproval and then motioned with her hoof to follow. As I caught up with her, walking by her towering form again, she continued to speak, “The secret of the Deep Tunnels is that you have to know exactly where you want to end up and to want it. No map is needed, only confidence. Doesn’t work for generic places, like an ‘exit’ or ‘entrance’.”

“But how?” I asked in bewilderment. It wasn’t just a curse or a spell, it was something beyond my comprehension.

“Nopony knows,” she said with a grimace – it must have been very annoying to live for five centuries and still not know the answer to such an important question. “Dr. Hooves says it’s a tear in time and space caused by some very powerful magic, but he says a lot of crazy things.”

Doctor Hooves… That name sounded familiar.

“Is he that weird earth stallion scientist with the hourglass cutie mark, who had a workshop in Ponyville?” I finally conjured all the facts I knew of Dr. Hooves from the depths of my mind.

“Don’t know about the Ponyville part, but, yeah, it is him,” confirmed Trixie. “After the Great War he got his hooves on a huge batch of arcanium and a decade later he found a way to violate the very rules of time flow.” Suddenly she spluttered with laughter. “The Crown found him guilty of using dark magic, an earth pony, can you imagine? So he fled to the Tunnels and continued to study his crazy ‘quantum’ science here.”

“So, Dr. Hooves is a Former One? Like you?” Trixie grimaced at the “like you” part, but otherwise nodded. “How many of the Former Ones are in Canterlot? Can I meet them?” I asked a question I itched to know since I had learned about those ponies. Now that I had sated my curiosity regarding the global changes, the time for more mundane inquiries had come.

I saw Trixie furrow her brow in thought and mouth silent words.

“There have been about forty Former Ones in Canterlot over the last five hundred years,” she said thoughtfully, still counting ponies in her mind, “right now less than fifteen are left and you may already know half of them.” Trixie glanced at me and I titled my head, prompting her to continue. “Well, I’ve told you about Dr. Hooves already, then there is Sunburst, though he spends most of his time recovering books from the ruins of Neighponia; the mare who was called Raven Inkwell back in your days, goes by the name Fotia Koraki now; Soarin, once a Wonderbolt, now a Lobster.” Trixie felt silent, though her lips continued moving. A pained expression visited her face. “And… Octavia Melody. But she isn’t in Canterlot right now.”

Some of these names I indeed recognized and these were the last ponies I expected to become immortal. Raven Inkwell? She was Princess Celestia’s secretary, if I wasn’t mistaken. Some things didn’t make any sense to me at all – “a lobster”, or what happened to Neighponia. And Octavia… could she be the mare Scuff Gear mentioned? I thought she was a musician back in my day, but I wasn’t sure.

“I think I’ve heard of Octavia.” I didn’t want to know as much about her as about her destination. “Is she the one who went to Stalliongrad?”

“How do you know?” Trixie broke from her nostalgic reverie to squint at me in surprise and suspicion.

“I’ve met a stallion at the Edge, a mechanic called Scuff Gear, I think he might have worked with you at some point.” Trixie’s eyes brightened instantly at the mention of his name, her face dissolving into a smile.

“Scuffy!” she exclaimed and added, shaking her head in amazement, “I thought he died in the job when we tried to rid the Tunnels of that necromancer cretin, whatever-was-his-name.”

However, besides the sincere joy, there was a slight strain in her voice. It didn’t escape me that Trixie had not-so-subtly tried to change the topic, and she also knew that I noticed. On one hoof I didn’t want to disturb her old wound – Octavia obviously was a very dear pony to her, but on the other, Princess Luna and equinoids or not, I still couldn’t discard the possibility of “moving” to Stalliongrad.

“And what about Stalliongrad?” I asked again, focusing only on the place this time, but got no answer – as the seconds passed by, Trixie remained stubbornly silent. I couldn’t tell if it was her grief or if she was just too lost in her memories. “I actually thought of fleeing there with Tin Flower, the filly who ‘resurrected’ me, and a few other ponies I’ve met,” I added after a few moments, trying to bring back to life our dead conversation from exactly where it ended.

As I said that I realized I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do after confronting Princess Luna. Stalliongrad was still an option, mostly because I didn’t know any other. And I had no idea what Trixie herself was planning to do. I seriously doubted she would recommend staying in Canterlot. But if not Stalliongrad, there had to be other places, or she might have something else entirely in mind.

“It has been fifty years,” Trixie suddenly said in a firm yet sad voice. “I will think of your words, but only after we get to Princess Luna.” Then she fell silent and broody again.

So, she, too, had no other ideas except for Stalliongrad and no concrete plan at all, it seemed. My only hope was that it wasn’t caused by a complete lack of options left for those who were stranded in Canterlot.

We spent the rest of our journey in the heavy silence of Trixie’s ruminations, which I didn’t dare to disturb again. I spent that time absorbed in my own thoughts, digesting all the knowledge I had just received.

The monotonous stone surfaces were emerging from the darkness as we walked and disappearing in the shadows following us in hoofsteps. Eventually, we came to a black square cut in the wall. The darkness obscuring what lay behind it refused to yield and as I took a closer look I realized that it was a sheet of shimmering dark magic. Trixie touched it with the tip of her horn, and the veil dissolved in the air, revealing a room, though I could barely discern anything in there – Trixie’s “unlight” wasn’t strong enough.

“Well, here we are – my humble abode,” she commented, then winced. “I haven’t cleaned it in a long time, so don’t be scared.”

I only shrugged. After Tin Flower’s dwelling, I doubted anything could have surprised me anymore.

Yup. I wasn’t impressed.

Though, the room, which had apparently been carved by Trixie herself from the rock mass, was very dirty, it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be. It barely had any furniture, only two flat-surfaced huge stones, presumably serving as a table and bed. There was also a workbench, but it didn’t seem to have been used in a while – it was cluttered with rusty spare parts, covered in a thick layer of grey dust.

What was impressive, however, was the immense collection of various little things on the shelves cut in the uneven walls, taking up all the space from the floor to the ceiling. Knick-knacks, crystals of all sizes and colors, leather-bound ancient folios, dilapidated scrolls… hundreds of unique objects I had trouble categorizing, so many of them resided on the dusty stone. Things of value, sentimental and practical, accumulated over half a millennium. Many magical, I could sense that.

“May I take a closer look?” I asked, driven by overwhelming curiosity, feeling like a filly in a bookstore.

“Sure,” came the muffled answer – Trixie was rummaging through the scrolls on of the lower shelves, muzzle deep in them, a thick cloud of dust around her. “Just be careful, I can’t remember what half of them are, but some can be dangerous.”

I dismissed her words and rushed to the nearest shelf with books, tugging them out with my magic. However, as soon as it came into my view, I dropped it with a shriek.

A flattened pony face was looking at me from the floor with empty eye sockets, the toothless mouth agape in silent eternal agony. Black ribbons of shadows enveloped it and gingerly put it back with its leather-bound brethren. “Warned you,” chuckled Trixie.

It was horrible, disgusting even, but what else should I have expected from a pony who practiced dark magic?

I proceeded with studying the shelves contents much more carefully, keeping away from the books and scrolls. I had the suspicion that the latter weren’t written on parchment.

To my dismay, most of the things I took a closer look at weren’t as interesting as they seemed at first, but rather disturbing. A set of basalt daggers, likely sacrificial. Weathered stones with eldritch runes carved in them. An entire shelf dedicated to glass spheres filled with swirling inky shadows. Small yellow bones of creatures I didn’t recognise. Crystals, bare and encased in metal, sometimes connected to devices. Tiny, yet complex clockwork mechanisms. Vials with murky liquids.

I could recognize nothing of it.

I was slowly walking by the shelves and marveling at the bizarre collection, when I felt like somepony was watching me. Somehow I knew that it was a hateful glare. I turned back to where Trixie was picking up crystals from shelves, studying them and then putting the gems either into the cloth bag in her hoof or back where she took them. She was completely absorbed in her task, paying me no attention, muttering something barely audible. But the sensation refused to leave me. I twirled around and my eyes fell on it.

In the far corner, on one of the shelves a jar with a pony head inside stood. And that pony was looking straight at me. I froze in shock and horror.

“T-T-Trixie…” I stammered, unable to divert my eyes from the sight. I heard the clicking of crystals and shuffle of hooves from where she stood.

“Oh, that,” she said after a few moments, “meet Mordant, the bitch who decided to play dark mage and thought that it would be very fun to kill everypony and everyone who lives in the Tunnels.” Trixie accompanied her words with a literal growl. “Took me an entire year and three bodies to take her down.”

As if I was enchanted, I slowly approached the jar, driven by some twisted curiosity.

Inside the cylindrical tube adorned with dark pulsing gemstones and fortified with oxidized vertical metal bars, the head floated. Through the dirty glass it was giving me a glare so baleful and hateful, that it was close to rivaling the mad eyes of the Ebony Warlock himself. Even though the head was scarred and bruised, colorless and furless from the time spent in the liquid, I could tell Mordant was once a quite beautiful mare. Now, bloated and deformed, with scraps of skin signifying that it was torn from the body rather than cut, it incited only abhorrence. I noted the runes rudely cut into the skin in a few places and the chapped lips sewn shut with a thick thread.

Despite everything, I felt pity deep inside of me. Surely, her crimes sounded horrible, but why not just kill her?

“Why is she like this?” I asked turning to Trixie, who moved to the next wall, still gathering gems.

“She is a Former One, from the later times. A lich, like you,” came her answer. I remembered Trixie mentioning that word, but I didn’t know what it meant. As if feeling the unspoken question, she explained, “Liches are dark mages, or not, in your case, who enchant items called phylacteries to be anchors for their entity in the physical world.” She scowled at Mordant. “So when they die, they actually don’t and return back to life some time later. This moron had made, like, a hundred phylacteries, so I can’t kill her and have to keep her alive.”

I felt no pity for Mordant anymore, however, there was now newfound respect for Trixie. Though I still didn’t know what compelled her to turn to dark magic, she was using it for a good cause.

I decided that was enough of this room for me.

I walked to Trixie and took the bag from her hooves, holding it open for her, providing my help and studying its contents at the same time.

Inside were a couple dozen unremarkable crystals and a few pieces of metal, but not just any – they were small slivers of arcanium. I could understand why the metal, though using arcanium for horseshoes felt like a huge waste. But the crystals?

“What do you need them for?” I frowned. Was she going to enchant the gems and incorporate them into my frame? Or…

“I need them to trade,” Trixie replied and another small metal nugget fell into the bag. “Arcanium too.”

Eh? I thought Equestria had the official currency, even in a place like this it had to have more value than any tradable objects.

“Don’t you have any e-bits?” I imagined that a mare like her would have had a small hoard after a couple of centuries.

“E-bits are for citizens,” Trixie scoffed and after a short pause explained, “A pony is born in Canterlot, a pony gets a tattoo on the neck in special ink.” I remembered how Delight had got her neck scanned at the eatery. “It’s their identification and the bank account number. E-bit is a cryptocurrency, so it can only be digital.” Trixie poked her neck with her hoof, producing a sharp click. “No stamp on your neck – no money for you, simple as that.”

It explained a lot and for a moment I admired such a system, there was a lot of order and efficiency in it. But then I started to see downsides, such as the ponies who were born at the Edge, like Tin Flower, not counted as citizens. I didn’t know a single thing about “cryptocurrency”, but I could imagine that a type of currency which existed only virtually must have its own specific issues.

“And what if that pony gets injured at that place?” I asked the most obvious implication of that system. A single cut while being non-lethal could have still “killed” a pony as a citizen.

“I don’t do that usually, it’s too messy,” Trixie replied without missing a beat. It took me a few moments before the meaning of her words caught up with me. I sent her a judging look so scathing that she faltered. “Er, I mean, they are really unlucky then.”

We continued to trot by the shelves, gathering any pieces of arcanium and the crystals Trixie was willing to part with.

“What were you doing all this time?” I voiced the question that suddenly occurred to me. I did not know of many creatures that had a really long lifespan. Dragons slumbered on their hordes, the Princesses governed countries (or hunted down changelings), phoenixes… well, I didn’t know what they did, actually. How would a dark mage, even one who wasn’t acting like such, spend her life?

“Mmph,” mumbled Trixie with a scroll in her mouth. A moment later she fished out a cracked crystal from behind other scrolls and with a scoff sent it flying back into the dust. “Many things, mostly studying magic and trying to stop The Tunnels from killing themselves, they are really good at that.”

I had no doubt about the last part. Though it was hard for me to evaluate Trixie’s skill in magic, because it wasn’t an arcane school I knew anything about or even approved of, I kinda expected her to be a master of it. Five hundred years would be enough for anypony to become a real professional in any field. And it prompted my next inquiry.

“What happened to you?” All I had got so far was that she began using dark magic at some point after the Great War or during it. Apparently, it had taken a hard toll on her body, which wasn’t unusual for witchcraft. But I didn’t know any finer details which actually mattered. “I’m sorry if it’s too personal of a question,” I hastily added.

“It’s fine, after all, you already knew it once.” The familiar expression of disant melancholy visited her face of living metal. From the past I summoned the memories once painful, but lived through so many times that they became dear to their owner.

“I was cursed during the Great War and used a spell I didn’t really comprehend.” I glanced at Trixie with sympathy, and with a bitter smile she continued, “It turned me into a living shadow. The worst part is that I am a shade on both the magical and physical planes.” She grimaced in annoyance. “That means I can’t have an actual body or use any magic other than dark. While it didn’t take me very long to learn that I can posses artificial bodies, I spent years inventing the simplest spells, because everything works very differently with dark magic.”

That was not what I expected to hear at all. I remembered Trixie as a mare who was an embodiment of boasting and I thought that using dark magic was just her way to become “Great and Powerful”. But the fact that it wasn’t even a voluntary decision, which I could tell, changed her drastically – instead of corrupting Trixie, dark magic taught her humility. However, I couldn’t say I rejoiced at that – the price was too high.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all I could say. I realized now we had more in common than I ever had with anypony – we both were prisoners of a cursed immortality we didn’t choose.

“Nah, I’m alright,” Trixie dismissed my words, smiling light-heartedly. “I’ve gotten used to it over five centuries. And Pinkie helped a lot.” I could imagine that, optimism sprang eternal in her.

“How are you faring, Twilight?” Trixie suddenly asked, looking at me intently.

With all the talk about the past, Canterlot and Trixie, I hadn’t really paid attention to the feelings deep inside of me.

“I guess... I’m alright too.” I actually felt better now, when I had somepony who could understand my plights. Though the truths I learned still stung, and the future looked very concerning. “I woke without my magic and had a few problems in the beginning, but now I’m fine, more or less.” I smiled and Trixie smiled back. “I will get used to it.”

With the canvas bag full of crystals and pieces of arcanium, we left Trixie’s dwelling. The flicker of shadows around her horn made the sheet of blackness coalesce in the doorframe.

Our path lay to a workshop belonging to two mechanics Trixie had a longstanding business relationship with. Because of the specifications of her body, which in fact was a bit different from the average equinoid frame on a deep technical level, she couldn’t go to just any place. The fact that Trixie was a Former One wasn’t helping the issue, as she complained she had trouble finding a decent technician since she had parted ways with Scuff Gear, who was also tolerant of her as a dark mage and a Former One.

Since the Deep Tunnels were a barely traversable enchanted labyrinth, the workshop wasn’t there, obviously. However, paradoxically, we had to go deeper. As I continued to batter Trixie with countless questions, I learned that we were wending our way to one of the “Wells”, huge, hundred meters deep sewer collectors serving as community hubs for the underground of Canterlot. It didn’t come to me as a surprise that the Tunnels were in fact the remains of the old sewer system; it was something I had suspected for a long time already.

I had also learned that the Tunnels, both Deep and not had much more order to them than it might have seemed. The very first level served as a neutral ground for absolutely everypony, or, more accurate, everyone, since the population of Canterlot, especially underground, was very varied these days. The next three floors were the ponies’, where they dominated in numbers and power. And while the Wells weren’t ruled by any particular faction, they were often considered the ponies’ grounds as well, because of their abundance there. The fifth level belonged solely to the zebras, who served as both brokers and peacemakers between the upper levels and the next two – the equinoids’ domain, or, since the relatively recent times, the Church’s. The Deep Tunnels didn’t follow the “level” system, but there were more or less permanent areas, inhabited by the various groups, mostly religious cults and communities of those who were born with severe mutations.

The thing that struck me the most – nopony knew how deep the Tunnels went. At some point the artificial system of sewers and maintenance passages met both natural ways burrowed through bedrock by time and water and the ancient paths dug by the Diamond Dogs. There was a group of creatures not limited to ponies, who called themselves “The Cataclysm Watchers” and believed that they could wait out the end of the world underground, but only if they were deep enough. So they drilled for many decades. They claimed to have made a shaft as deep as the Sky Palace went high – and it pierced the clouds.

“I suspect,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “that the Deep Tunnels might have existed long before Canterlot began to develop its “roots” and that they had already been this way.” She paused for a moment, and when I glanced at her I saw apprehension and trepidation written across her face. “There were things prowling in the darkness when we first came here, horrible creatures bearing traces of magic so raw, so ancient. A few other Former Ones and I hunted them for years but I’m afraid some might have survived.” I shuddered as the memory of the tunnel with flesh-covered walls returned to me.

However, not only did the thought of a living nightmare come to my mind – there was one creature in that darkness, magical but not ancient, well, relatively speaking.

“I’ve met Spike,” I simply stated, knowing that it was enough to imply the questions I wanted answered. Trixie winced hard upon hearing that, prompting me to raise my eyebrow – it wasn’t the reaction I expected.

“And he didn’t attack you?” she asked incredulously. I shook my head.

“I wish I could tell you something concrete, but I’m afraid I know little more than you,” she said with a sigh. Madness – that was all I knew. “I can only say that it was dark magic that made him act this way, but I have no idea how it happened.”

“What do you mean?” I furrowed my brow.

“I’d never met Spike before he went insane, but from what I learned from you, he returned from the Great War relatively normal. Shortly after that, he was sent to the Dragon Lands as an ambassador, to prevent the dragons from exhibiting any aggression towards Equestria.” That sounded reasonable, considering how weakened Equestria had been after the war and knowing the long-standing tensions between our nations. “When I myself returned from my journey he was already here in the state he is now. I did try to help him, but the only thing I achieved was losing my body.”

And I thought I would find something in the Archives… But it didn’t matter.

“I’m going to help him,” I said in a hard voice. Trixie looked at me with concern and then nodded.

“I will help you in whatever way I can, but it isn’t going to be an easy task.” I gave her a questioning glance. “First of all we have to find a way to locate him, I have no idea how to do that.”

Nor did I, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Spike was a dragon after all, so he should have some kind of hoard at this age, or a lair, at least. Also, Princess Luna could be of help – alicorns had always shared a special bond with dragons.

We continued to walk in silence – I decided to give Trixie a moment of respite from my curiosity even though she didn’t really seem to mind my impromptu interrogation at all. Eventually, she stopped using her “unlight” spell – our surroundings had finally started to have light on their own. Nor did they look anymore like something lost in time and space – signs of civilization, like trash, unfortunately, began to appear, along with the trademark smell. Then we began to meet ponies, zebras and equinoids, though they were giving us a wide berth, glancing warily at Trixie.

The tunnel we used ended with an opening and an unsafe looking rusted railing. Trixie led me directly to it and I stood with my mouth agape, marveling at the sight before my eyes – we had come to the Well.

Beyond the railing, the floor ended abruptly in a vast vertical shaft with its bottom barely visible. It also went up, but I couldn’t see the ceiling at all, because the space inside the Well wasn’t empty – an enormous cluster of catwalks and what looked like assortments of scrap from the Junkyard speckled with sporadic lights hung precariously in the lumen, defying any reason and safety measures. It was as if a huge spider had woven a web from twisted rusty metal, catching countless fireflies in it, and then passed away in that web, its corpse now being dismantled by countless ants.

The assemblage of shacks and bridges was taking up a few dozen of the floors, connecting to them, making me wonder what exactly held this enormous bloated construction in the air. I really hoped that magic was involved, otherwise that settlement could turn into a tragedy at any moment.

Of course, being a hub for a vast territory of the underground, it teemed with activity to the point that this entire metal lesion in the artery of the Canterlot sewers seemed to be constantly moving, shivering. It was mostly made up of equine silhouettes, the tall ones belonging to zebras and the skeletal to equinoids. However, I could also see bulky winged figures – griffins, and even some bipedal moving forms.

Suddenly, a gunshot thundered through the air, cutting through the faint buzz of the hub and making me jerk. It was accompanied by a bright flash of fire in my sight and a second later I saw the limp form of a pony plummet down, leaving behind it a thin trace of blood and smoke.

I glanced at Trixie with wide eyes, and she just shrugged, like it was something normal. Probably deciding that I had gotten the concept of this place she motioned with her head to follow and trotted in the direction of the nearest catwalk.

I didn’t like it from the moment I laid my eyes upon it. A long perforated plate of metal served as a bridge. Obviously it was rusty, it simply couldn’t be any other way, and that wasn’t the only thing about it that bothered me. The perforation was so uneven that I couldn’t tell if it was a natural degradation of the material or if it was created with the holes and it was just the passage of time that made them look so. The saggy rope railing didn’t look convincing either. I had known already that I weighed more than the average pony, and unless Trixie’s arcanium frame was specifically enchanted, she could be even heavier than me.

However, she trotted forward and up the bridge without missing a beat. Yes, her body had to be enchanted, because when I put my hoof on the weathered metal surface it instantly answered with an ominous creak.

“Trixie…” I began with uncertainty.

“It’s not a very long fall, you will survive, I guarantee.” She was already in the middle of the bridge and as she turned to look at me there was a smirk on her face – I couldn’t understand how she was able to joke about something like this.

“Trixie…” I hissed menacingly.

“It’s sturdier than it looks. And sounds. And feels.” I audibly growled. It had to be the dark magic giving her dementia. Or the old age. Or both. “I will try to catch if you fall. I will do my best, I promise.”

After probably the worst five minutes I had since I woke up in this world, I finally escaped from the unsteady footing of the cursed thing which didn’t have any right to be called a bridge or simply exist. Though, I had trouble leaving behind the desire to push Trixie from the narrow paths and find out if I could catch her if I did my best.

As I expected, the place was cramped, however it wasn’t really an issue. Without exception, every underground dweller who happened to be in our path was yielding it to Trixie, their expressions ranging from deep respect to outright disgust or fear.

After a few minutes of following Trixie through the hub, I realized that it wasn’t in fact a place where ponies or other creatures lived. It was a business centre, though I had a hard time calling such a congregation that since it could be easily confused for a garbage pile.

Shops in separate shacks or set on the open platforms hanging above the abyss sold all possible varieties of things, starting with questionable looking food and ending with weapons in mint-fresh condition. Workshops offered their services both to ponies with prosthetics and to equinoids, or just to repair any kinds of devices. Enchanting booths, judging by their adverts, were mostly focused on memory manipulation. Prostitutes traded their bodies, though thankfully the magic signs they were holding implied that any activity would take place beyond the hub’s unsafe scaffolding.

After we passed a small eatery selling weird looking translucent noodles and, to my horror, grilled rats, we came to an average sized shack looking like a hornets’ nest. It wasn’t anything unusual – half of the “buildings” here looked like this if not worse. What was strange, however, was the fact that the shack was apparently on fire – thick curls of smoke poured from the empty door frame and every numerous crack.

I glanced warily at Trixie but she didn’t appear concerned, rather, annoyed. As we approached closer I realized that it wasn’t smoke but that strange vapor I had encountered before. The clouds of artificial fog smelled of some herbs I could vaguely recognize as medical in purpose, but I refrained from taking a deeper breath – the atmosphere of this hub wasn’t a pleasant one. Also, I wasn’t sure if that was how my sense of smell worked anymore.

Without a knock or any warning at all, Trixie plunged herself into the mass of fumes obscuring the entrance and I followed.

It felt like I was in the steam room of Ponyville spa, so dense was the smoke. It took me some time squinting through it but eventually I was able to distinguish the outline of the interior – a very small room with two cots, one unusually big; two tables with glowing screens set on them, two figures sitting in front of them back to back. They were the mechanics, supposedly, but who were they? Their shapes were definitely not equine. In all that haze I were seeing things. I squinted at them again… no way.

I was looking at a goat and a llama.

The latter one, like a huge brown wooly worm was hunched over a tablet with a pen in their mouth, scribbling something on its surface. That llama was enormous and I couldn’t tell if it was the voluptuous coat of thick fur or the large body underneath it. It was a wonder how they even managed to fit into this tiny living space. My facial plates wrinkled in distaste as I realized that what the llama was scratching on the tablet was appearing on the screen above it – some kind of obscene drawing of a pony mare.

The dark goat with glasses, who was much smaller by comparison and wrapped in torn rags, like a mummy, was furiously typing something on the keyboard set before the screen. And judging by the device appearing in the cloven hoof every few moments and then drawn to the lips, the credit for all the vapor went to the caprine. Behind the curved horns atop an uneven mohawk, large headphones were emanating loud hideous sounds that would have made my ears bleed if I had any blood. Or actual ears.

None of them paid us any attention until Trixie loudly cleared her throat. But only the llama reacted to that sound and not even instantly. They regarded us, or rather, only Trixie for a few short moments with dark displeased eyes gleaming from under the bushy brows and behind the thick eyeglasses. The huge towering figure straightened, almost scraping the low ceiling, then bent towards its horned neighbor and slapped the back of their head with a loud juicy smack, sending the pair of glasses sailing from the goat’s muzzle.

“Ow, fuck!” The goat yelled in a male voice tearing off his headphones and blindly pawing the keyboard for the glasses. He instantly turned back when the glasses had finally found their purchase on the crooked nose, glaring at the great llama.“What was that for?”

The llama, still holding the pen in their mouth, grumbled something, revealing himself as a male and pointed with his thick pointy nail at us. At last, the goat paid us attention.

“Ah, the Magician, didn’t see you,” he greeted in a hoarse voice, rubbing the back of his head, reminding me that the Former Ones preferred not to use their real names. “Did you come for the usual?” The goat tried to use his smoking device, but began coughing violently as it was enveloped by the inky shadow of Trixie’s magic, preventing it from producing the vapor. Giving her a glare, he spat, “You still haven’t paid for the last maintenance.”

“No, I’m fine. And I’ve brought the crystals.” Trixie made the bag jingle in the air. Then she motioned with her head at me. “Just needed something for a friend.”

It seemed the goat noticed my presence for the first time and he wasn’t happy about it.

“Did you find your friend under a rock or something?” He grimaced. “She keeps staring at me like I’m going to start summoning the Elder Ones any moment.”

“Are you not?” Trixie looked around at the still lingering mist. “I thought we came in the middle of some ritual.”

The llama produced a dissatisfied grunt without stopping drawing.

“Haha. Very funny,” the goat grumbled, “What does your friend need?” He regarded me with a scrutinizing look. “I hope not the entire body replacement.”

“Just the hardened horseshoes,” replied Trixie, throwing the bag into the goat’s hooves.

The goat buried his muzzle in it studying the contents. He appeared back a few moments later with a satisfied grin showing his yellowish teeth. “Going for a walk outside, are we?”

“Yeah, gonna pay a visit to an old ‘friend’,” said Trixie winking at me. It went unnoticed by the goat mostly because he turned his attention to the llama, poking, or rather stubbing, the large form with his hoof. The way it was disappearing in the fluctuating sea of dark brown fleece made think that the llama consisted entirely of it.

“Hey, are you going to sit like a stump or are you going to help me?” At first, the llama didn’t react, continuing its scribbling, but then the pudgy limb flashed out aiming at the goat’s horns, though their owner seemed to be prepared and dodged the slap with a practiced duck.

“Ffff...fine!” the goat yelled, throwing his hooves in the air. I was pretty sure it wasn’t what he intended to say.

“Let’s go,” -he motioned us with his hoof- “I have no time and more than half of the story to finish.”

We followed the annoyed goat through the curtain on the wall leading to a small workshop.

It had no wall opposite to the entrance, but otherwise the repair room was completely normal, impressive even – despite the limited space, it wasn’t too confined. Every surface was used very efficiently, with all the tools neatly organized. And it was incredibly clean, except for an empty cup of tea on the workbench which appeared to have not been washed in forever.

As I was wondering at the little workshop, the goat rudely and suddenly tugged at me by hooking his horn under one of my plates. Making me yelp, he yanked me into the middle of the room and unceremoniously lifted my front hoof, intently studying it, like I wasn’t a sapient creature but some kind of doll. He let go of it and left me standing flabbergasted. I looked at Trixie but she only shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Your friend, that old hag, came looking for you the other day,” the goat grumbled, rubbing his mohawk. “She didn’t say what it was about, though, only that it’s urgent.”

Trixie let out a deep sigh, though it was unclear if she was displeased with the goat’s choice of words or with the news itself.

“You could show some respect for Koraki, you know.”

“I would if she didn’t act like a huge jerk,” the mechanic barked back, sliding a metal container from under the rack near on of the walls.

“I will look at you when you get old,” Trixie retorted absentmindedly, as she appeared to to be evaluating the information she had just received.

“Not in this city, Magician,” the goat chuckled bitterly.

“So…” she said, leaning on the workbench lazily, “any other news?”

“Not much has happened since your last visit,” came the muffled voice from the box, in which the goat was rummaging noisily. “A couple of weeks ago the Cataclysm Watchers came for supplies.” He emerged with a horseshoe on his horn. Or a thing that looked like such, but wasn’t quite the same as the common apparel for equines. It was much bulkier and thicker, meant not just to protect hooves, but to almost entirely replace them. “Said they have dug into a huge cavern system, that it may have arcanium veins.” The caprine mechanic tried it on my hoof, scowled and returned to the boxes.

“They say it everytime,” dryly commented Trixie.

“Aye, but this time it may be true, they brought some for trade, the raw stuff.” The goat emerged for a moment from the box, showing with his hooves what I supposed was the size of that amount of arcanium and then returned to the content of the crate. “If I were you I would check it out, it is impossible to come by so much of it these days otherwise.”

Trixie shook her head and her brows went up briefly as she noted that information.

“Anything else?” she asked after a moment.

“Nah, only the usual.” The mechanic returned to me again, with another horseshoe hanging from his horn. “Though, the Church stirs up shit lately,” he added with a sour expression.

“Why?” the question slipped out of my mouth before I even thought. The goat gave me a momentary glance, but I couldn’t read his expression.

“Pff. Why wouldn’t they?” he scoffed. The mechanic tried on the new horseshoe, and judging by the nod he gave to himself, it fit. “Jumping on the bandwagon, I guess. The winter is in the wind, so everyone goes bats. Almost the entire Edge did for sure.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the Junkyard still can’t get their arse into gear,” Trixie agreed with a scowl. I was paying close attention to the conversation before, but now I was all ears.

“Uh-huh. It’s been more than a week already, but that’s not the funny part,” the goat drawled.

More than a week! I thought I had spent one day in the Tunnels, two at most, but apparently my nightmares lasted much longer than it seemed. I felt a sharp pang of anxiety for Delight and Flower. They were alone for so long, and Pepper Mercury was still waging the gang war.

“What is it then?” I joined their chat again with another question. The goat mechanic didn’t pay me any attention this time, but that was probably because he was looking for the remaining three horseshoes.

“The TCE has yet to give a single fuck about it.” A lone horseshoe sailed through the air and landed not far from me with a loud bang. “I can’t remember a time they let a gang war last for more than three days. The rumor is one of the furnaces blew up.” My proverbial heart clenched in worry. “Could be the Pinks, of course, but it’s strange anyway.” Another horseshoe fell on the floor.

“And what about the other sectors?” Trixie took her turn in asking questions.

“Wait,” the goat said, his head jerking from the box and, squinting at her, “you haven’t heard about the Industry?”

“Which one?” she asked in return, leaning on the table towards the mechanic. “They are not my ground, so I don’t usually care. I have enough of my own troubles here.”

“That’s the thing, they are united now,” the goat diverted his attention from the search to point at Trixie with his cloven hoof. “The Heavy and Light Industry sectors.”

“What?” Trixie grimaced, obviously not believing him. “They hate each other’s guts.”

“They do, but there is a pony who managed to unite them, for the first time in history.” I could hear clear concern in the goat’s voice. “That’s why the TCE has turned a blind eye to the Junkyard, methinks. It smells like a riot is cooking there.”

“It sounds to me like a huge mess is brewing for the entire city,” Trixie hissed, sounding just as concerned. “The last thing Canterlot needs is crippled production lines.”

“Speaking of the mess,” came the voice from the container a moment before the last horseshoe flew out of it. “Even the Shitters are restless, the Gardens cut their share of crops a few weeks ago. Seems like we are gonna have another hungry winter.”

Gathering all four horseshoes from the floor, the goat came to me holding a screwdriver in his mouth.

For a while he worked in relative silence disturbed only by the sounds of screws and metal hooves falling on the floor. Only after the last of them landed on the metal surface below me, did he speak again.

“Only Nebula is as quiet as a mouse, but even there something ain’t right,” the goat said scrunching his nose.

“Let me guess – the zebras?” Trixie replied, rising her brow.

The goat finished putting the new, heavy and bulky horseshoes onto my limbs. He made a few checks and took a step back, giving me a contented look. Grabbing my old purple ones, he headed to the box with the spare parts, but half-way stopped, turning to Trixie.

“Caravans are leaving day and night,” came the confirmation. “And the Stripes are also emptying the black market.”

I didn’t know the implications of all that had just been said, but despite the semi-joking way Trixie and the mechanic spoke, deep frowns marked their faces. Something was going on in Canterlot, and it seemed nopony was about to enjoy where it was leading.

“It’s going to be an interesting winter,” Trixie said slowly and carefully, her expression full of worry. The goat bit his lip and nodded sorrowfully. And I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I would somehow end up involved in all this.

Author's Notes:

Alrighty, I have something to talk about this time, so prepare for these notes being quite long.

First of all - a new chapter (duh), but wait, there is more! Check out the Side Stories - there is a new addition as well. This week I was struck with inspiration and came up with that short depiction of the Edge. However, it is not the longer story I'm still working on (without much of a progress so far, though).

The second - things are progressing on all other fronts (okay, not all - I haven't touched the second clopfic since December). But regarding Aftersound things are in motion. The editing of chapter 11 has almost came to the end. I'm close to finishing chapter 12, it will happen within a week or luckily less.

And the third and the most important topic. I'd like to ask you for some feedback. I know, it was more than year since I've started this story, so requesting your opinion on it is a bit late. And considering the fact that the rest of the story is planned out with finality in those decisions, nothing can me changed plot-wise, but the way the story is told may be influenced, depending on what you are about to say.
So, here is a little survey, and I'll be infinitely grateful if you answer even a few of those questions:

Why did you decide to read Aftersound? What did you expect from it? Did it meet your expectations? What do you like of it the most and think there should be more of that? What you dislike the most and think there should be less of that? What chapters did you enjoy the most and the least? Is it very noticable that the story is written by someone for whom English is not native language? What would you have added or removed completely?

Don't be shy and don't be afraid to be harsh, I don't seek the praise, I want to gauge my skill though your critique and use that knowledge to improve as an author. It may not reflect on some aspects of this story, but it surely be used in future if you stick with me.

Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 11 – Back to where it all began

We left the Well behind, and after half an hour into the Tunnels, Trixie stopped and produced the map she brought earlier from under her cloak. Curious, I glanced over her shoulder, and what I saw made me raise my brow in a mix of confusion and doubt. An old sheet of parchment covered in something I could only call a scribble made by a foal with their hind hoof. If it was a map, it was beyond me to read it. Thus, I had not a single idea where we were actually heading.

“We are going to the Junkyard now, right?” I asked, hoping that Trixie hadn’t decided to make a change in our plans and forget to inform me. I didn’t really mind meeting Raven Inkwell, on the contrary, but at this moment, especially after I had learned how much time had passed, I wanted to find Flower and Delight more than ever.

“Yes,” replied Trixie with her eyes glued to the so called map, “but we will go through the old mining sector.” Those abandoned mines in the Rambling Rock Ridge I saw to the south of the Junkyard?

“Can’t we go to the Junkyard directly?” It seemed we were about to make a considerable detour.

“We can.” Trixie finished studying the map, rolled it and began to trot to the nearest turn in the corridor as she talked. “But for that we will have to go to a specific place on the surface and go through the city. I’d like to avoid doing that.” She looked pointedly over herself and then gave me the same look. “I think you will understand.”

Fair enough. I was an equinoid with a custom body and probably on a wanted list for demolishing the Royal Archives. Trixie was a Former One and… well, I didn’t know what she was to the twisted law of Canterlot, but something was telling me she wasn’t very welcome on the surface, since she didn’t seem to be even in the Tunnels.

“I’m okay with that.” I wasn’t really, but we didn’t have any choice. “I just want to get there as soon as possible.”

“It will take us the same amount of time, if not less.” That was a bit surprising to hear at first, but on second thought I realized that we would have a clear path ahead of us since that sector seemed to be completely deserted.

“And what about your friend?” Was Trixie going to ignore her request or somehow fit it into our schedule? I wouldn’t mind if she would leave me with Del and the girls while she went back to the city to meet her – I actually wasn’t very keen on meeting Princess Luna either.

“You mean Koraki?” I nodded. “We’re more colleagues than friends, and she is old again at the moment, so it may all be her imagination.” She shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘old again’?” The metal plates of my face scrunched in confusion with a faint scraping sound – I would have to ask Flower to oil them. I suspected it had everything to do with her being a Former One, but other than through use of magic I had no ideas how ponies could become nearly immortal.

“She is a half-pony, half-phoenix.” My eyes went wide from bewilderment, but Trixie expected that. “Don’t ask, I have no idea how she ended up like that, and she has never told me.” Now I was more interested to meet her. “Anyway, she grows old like a normal pony and then bursts into flames becoming young again. But before it happens there is a decade long period of time when she screws with everypony’s heads.” Trixie grimaced and grumbled, “It could be an urgent tea party for all I know.”

Though it left open the question of Trixie potentially meeting her, I didn’t press on.

As we were making our way through the underground, I noticed that Trixie wasn’t so sure about the “normal” Tunnels. She would often stop and consult the map and sometimes we had to backtrack; each time she smiled sheepishly in a silent excuse. I didn’t hold any grudge for that, I could understand her troubles from my own experience and also the fact that she was used to the Deep Tunnels, which required a completely different approach.

Another thing I noted was the appearance of the Tunnels. There wasn’t much of a change – they simply looked abandoned and not visited in a while. We almost ceased to meet any other dwellers; the amount of litter lessened and it all was old garbage; and while rust didn’t go away, it was now competing with dust in “decorating” the surrounding. Oh, and the “smell of civilization” was replaced by that of damp earth and mold, a small improvement, but very welcome.

However, after about an hour the Tunnels changed completely.

They became very wide and tall passages, meant for heavy machinery and train carts, judging by the grooves on the floor made for rails. Though, none of that could be found in them – everything that supposedly was of any value had been stripped clean. Only a few loose wires hanging from the walls or forgotten rusty tools remained in these passages, gathering dust. There was no lighting in these vast vaulted tunnels, so Trixie resorted to using her “unlight” spell, which still unnerved me a little.

We were passing through the service tunnels leading to the mines themselves. Many of the adjacent passes were collapsed, spilling debris in our path, reminding me of the cursed labyrinth lying below. Fortunately, Trixie was much more sure about where we were heading now, so we moved quickly and with certainty.

Eventually we came into a smaller tunnel ending with a large and thick slightly ajar sealing door. To my confusion, instead of using magic Trixie pressed her shoulder to it and began to push against the unrelenting metal. I came to her side to help, and with a whir of our mechanical joints and groan of ancient hinges, it opened wide enough for us to squeeze through. Trixie nodded to me with gratitude and was the first to cross the doorstep, a moment later I followed.

We exited into the beginning of a deep ravine, with the grey sky high above barely visible through the gash in the rock. The steep walls of stone, cut precisely centuries ago but now crumbled and overgrown with moss, loomed over us. Their surface was sleek with moisture, filling the air with the smell of damp stone, and somewhere not far away I could hear water dripping quietly. The cold winds forlornly howled through the cracks of the distant gap, bringing with them the chilly freshness of open air. I glanced at Trixie and saw her staring up at the leaden clouds with a faint smile on her lips of liquid metal. I felt a pang of sympathy towards her – she didn’t visit the surface frequently, I guessed.

She noticed me looking at her, smiled a bit wider and jerked her head, motioning towards the blinding light of the gorge exit. Together we trotted there, walking around the large shards of rock split off the walls. Gravel crunched under our hooves, and sometimes we had to climb the stone debris slowly and carefully so as not to slip on the wet surface. In a few places I could see some metal remains, but they were so rusted that I couldn’t even remotely tell what they once were. Once I saw bones belonging to a griffin, judging by the gleaming beak protruding from the heap of deteriorated clothing. Only the eagle part of the skeleton was in sight; the rest was crushed by the huge boulder.

I raised my head to the crevice in the rock formation high above, but it remained still, with the exception of water from a few streams showering the ground below our hooves. A single pebble chipped off somewhere and bounced against the walls, filling the entire ravine with its staccato. That was when it struck me – this place was silent, not in the mausoleum-like way of the Deep Tunnels, but in a peaceful way of nature. Not far, a creek gurgled hidden amidst the rock, wind whistled gently, a crow cawed forlornly somewhere out of sight. On any other day I would have certainly enjoyed a long walk amongst these cliffs, but right now I was hurrying to get to my friends. I was even keeping pace with Trixie, not on purpose, but because at some point I began to canter, almost breaking into a gallop.

It didn’t take us very long to reach the pillar of sharp daylight which marked the vertical schism where the ravine walls abruptly ended.

We made it into the bottom of an enormous quarry – not as deep as it was vast, it opened before us. Slants were carved into the sloping walls, white like a bleached bone. Despite the thin layer of clouds obscuring the sun, the stone shone almost blindingly, likely because of the weak drizzle of rain making it reflective. The rain and countless tiny streams were all gathering at the bottom of the open pit, resulting in a not so small lake of still and dark murky water. In the middle of it a cloud of dense strange fog rolled, its tendrils poking out and retracting, coiling, as if the mist were a living being.

My reverie was broken by the shuffle of Trixie’s hooves against the sand as she turned and headed to the serpentine slope leading out of the quarry.

Climbing up those ramparts wasn’t as hard as it was annoying. The incline wasn’t steep, but very deteriorated – the potholes and clefts were threatening to catch my hooves every single step. In fact, those slants were almost horizontal, which was resulting in us walking a lot, but barely gaining height. So, while I wasn’t avoiding tripping over my hooves, I had a lot of time to survey my surroundings, which were more interesting than they appeared on the first look.

That large open-pit mine wasn’t as barren as I thought. Just as in the tunnels leading to it, I could see grooves left by rails, and in some places they were still there, however, they weren’t intact. They were twisted and bent, damaged very badly and appearing to consist exclusively of rust. And the ruined remains of narrow railroads weren’t the only things that marked the almost white stone. The deformed carcasses of heavy machinery bled into the moor below, painting the walls with long streaks of rust. The reason they were left behind was the same as in the case of the rails – they were warped and mutilated beyond salvage, partially entombed under the fallen rocks. Speaking of which, in some places the quarry walls gave away to erosion, but in others something much more powerful and decisive had torn huge chunks of stone, leaving deep scars on the cliffs.

“Trixie, what happened here?” I asked, though I had a suspicion that I knew the answer already. Only powerful explosives could leave such marks.

“The TCE began mining this place very long time ago, about a hundred or so years after the Great War,” she spoke, slowing down a bit and turning her head slightly, so I could hear her better. “And it was a huge disaster from the very beginning, mostly because of the neighbourhood. The Junkyard didn’t exist back then, but the Pink Butterflies just started to.” Well, I guessed right. “After a hundred more years, when it became apparent that these mines weren’t very productive and what they yielded wasn’t paying off, they were abandoned, hence the name.” After a pause she added, motioning to the empty bowl of the quarry with her hoof, “The Junkyard salvaged anything worthy of it later.”

The Pink Butterflies… Every time I had heard of them, they were involved in blowing something up, killing innocent ponies. The girls told me they stood against any technology, but what those terrorists were doing was going beyond that, they seem to just be inclined to see the entire world on fire.

“Why are the Pink Butterflies doing this? I feel like they are connected to Fluttershy, but I can’t imagine how.” She was trying to prevent as much damage as possible caused to wildlife by the Great War, though not like that, of course. Trixie mentioned Fluttershy was exiled to the Everfree at some point after the war, but I still couldn’t imagine my friend would have resorted to outright terrorism.

“The only connection they have is in the name.” I tried to catch up with Trixie and walk by her side as she was answering me, but given the fractured state of the ground under our hooves, it proved fruitless, so she remained a voice speaking not far in front of me. “There was a group of ponies who took a voluntary exile and joined her, but they weren’t the terrorists, far from it.” So far she was following my own conclusions. “Then things changed drastically by the end of Fluttershy’s life, when the griffins began to appear.”

Huh? I thought they didn’t want anything to do with Equestria. We weren’t possible to conquer, though not from lack of trying from the griffins’ side, and we didn’t join their conquests aimed at other countries. So the Griffin Empire traditionally had a very low interest in anything ponies were doing.

“And what did they have to do with that?” I did remember a very small contingent of griffins hired during the Great War, but other than that, the Empire remained dormant during the war. If anything, it seemed to be falling apart over a few decades – they lived by war, and having no chances to pursue their conquests due to Princess Celestia’s peacemaking policy, they slowly began to dwindle away.

“I’m not sure how, but a lot of technologies ended up in their hooves… er, talons, shortly after the Great War. Half of the Empire readily implemented them and began to war against the dragons. But the other half, mostly the older griffins, stood against the progress, claiming that it goes against any tradition and honor. A lot of them had left the Griffin Empire and began to join the refugees in the Everfree, because they kind of shared their cause. Fluttershy was keeping them all peaceful for as long as she could, but when she passed away, all hell broke loose.” Trixie finished the long explanation with a deep sigh.

Though she didn’t mention it, it was apparent that their cause wasn’t really fighting against the technologies, but eradicating ponies as the source of that “evil”. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some sort of a cult formed around that; even though griffins weren’t religious, they were fervent when it came to warring.

“Why did nopony do anything with them over five centuries?” The entire city was suffering from their devastating attacks; they had to be dealt with.

“Because of the griffins, I guess.” I could see Trixie’s face contorted by a scowl – she wasn’t enjoying their existence even though she lived in a territory relatively untouched by their atrocities as far as I could tell. “They know how to fight better than any other nation. And though they claim to refuse any technology, it apparently doesn’t apply to explosives and magic. They also hide in the Everfree, which is a formidable foe on its own. Combined with their guerilla tactics, they are more than a match for even the Royal Guard.”

Unfortunately, that sounded reasonable. If the Pink Butterflies had managed to claim and restore the Castle of the Royal Sisters, then they were indeed invincible. It was an ancient fortress, once upon a time sturdy enough to withstand the fury of the maddened goddess and then the relentless onslaught of the cursed forest for a millennium. The Everfree Forest was as a huge line of defense on its own, that was true too. And I doubted that Equestria would ever be capable to compete with griffins, who in their entire history spent less than a century not in a state of war with anyone.

The fact that Equestrian technologies brought them back to that track not only made me worry, but made me think about other nations again. Right now Canterlot was isolated from the outside world by merit of the toxic wasteland surrounding it and the severe winters, but there had to be a window of time right after the Great War when it still interacted with its neighbors.

The zebras still followed their cryptic traditional ways, I knew that. They never had nor would have need of any technologies. In a sense their knowledge was even more advanced than unicorn magic. But they weren’t a nation which ever bothered me.

What happened to Neighponia? They were ponies after all, reclusive and on bad terms with Equestria, but our kin. Trixie mentioned it being in ruins, and I had seen a lot of neighponese in Canterlot. Had they, too, gotten some of the technologies born from the Great War? Had they failed to harness them? How were the ram and goat septa surviving the winters, high in the mountains? Did the griffins win the war against the dragons? What was Saddle Arabia up to? Seaquestria, the Deer...

Ugh, so many questions.

It was miraculous that being so deep in my thoughts, I hadn’t kissed the pitted stone with my muzzle. I hadn’t even stumbled once. However, I did fail to notice how we made it almost to the top of the quarry.

The edge of the pit was crumbled, either due to the work of explosives or in submission to the hundreds of seasons. It didn’t matter, however, because we had to climb it anyway. Once again, I rejoiced at the fact that my body didn’t know fatigue, otherwise I would have been left completely winded by the steep incline and very uneven pathing. And I also finally understood why Trixie insisted on changing my hooves. I kept slipping on the unsteady rocky debris, and each time I could feel how the shards of stone mercilessly tried to tear through the metal of my limbs. One of them left a deep scratch on my fetlock, almost penetrating the plating.

Finally we made it to the top and paused briefly, assessing the damage and choosing our next steps. We ended up in the middle of an old road overgrown with scarce shrub, winding between two tall barren hills covered in gravel and yellowish-brown dust.

After dusting her cloak off (which didn’t change anything, in my opinion), Trixie began to climb the hill on the right, the taller one, unfurling her sketchy map as she gained height. Though there was no real need to follow her, I still did it, guided by curiosity. A few minutes later I joined Trixie, and while she was absorbed in reading her map, I looked around.

Very far to my left the ominous dark blot of the Everfree Forest marred the horizon like a spilled greenish ink. And from the distant treeline, the ulcerated landscape of the abandoned mines unrolled before my eyes. Quarries, quarries, quarries – there was not a single patch of the granitic ground which was spared from that fate. It was either vast mining sites or dumps of rock refuse standing like sentinels over the wounds in the soil. The pockmarked plateau was slowly rising into the ridge itself – relatively low peaks not far to my right. The cliffs weren’t absolved from the ponydom’s hunger for ore – black and empty maws of mine entrances dehisced, demanding to feed them workforce and machinery.

At a long range to the east, the mangled scenery ended with the silver stripe of a small river and the weak green of fields, where the stone concealing treasured minerals gave way to the pastoral landscapes of Equestria. Though, it didn’t look the same – discolored and withering. Dismayed, I turned back.

Behind me, in the distance a patchy grey wall loomed over the the ravaged terrain, bearing the marks of countless attempts to breach it with the help of blasting charges. Since we were much closer to the mounts of the Rambling Rock Ridge than to the Everfree, thus rather holding a high ground, I could see over it.

The paysage of Canterlot was nothing but a grim image.

Starting right after the wall, like gangrene, the dirty suburbs lay, compromised of decomposing low buildings, dark and speckled with rust, like blood, visible even from this far. The only sign of that area being alive was the glow of neon, cold and indifferent to the atrocities happening under the circuits of countless artificial suns.

Then there were the Thunderspires, the gleaming towers embraced by pitch black clouds, roiling and spasming with the ceaseless discharges of lightning flashing in their bosoms. The pegasus’ devices which made the firmaments bleed electric life into the city were also marking the border between where the city tried to live and where it had given up on life. The city blocks, still somber and decrepit, sprawled dully glistening towers that were no match for the brilliant skyscrapers of the Inner City.

The bright shine of the Inner City seemed to be jeering at the miserable life of the rest of Canterlot. It was so perfect, so clean – a true city of the future. And yet, neighbored by the rotting suburbs, it seems like a testament of corruption, not of progress. It was clear evidence of unequal distribution of life quality. And at the heart of it was not the most gleaming, but still the tallest and the proudest of them all – the grey citadel of injustice, the Sky Palace.

Did the Crown sit so high that they could see the struggle beneath no more, only the lifeless clouds, obscuring Canterlot from their view? Or did they know all the time, but never cared about any suffering as long as they were perched in the sky?

“I still can’t believe the government can be so corrupted…” Those words left my mouth without me thinking.

At first I thought Trixie didn’t hear my bitter muttering, but then I heard a mirthless chuckle behind me, followed by the rustle of paper and approaching hoofsteps.

“How much time have you spent in Canterlot?” she asked, taking the place by my side, surveying the city with a dispassionate expression. The blinking pale orange lights of beacons atop the wall reflected on the glassy surface of her eyes and waves of living metal.

“Less than two weeks,” I replied with a frown. "Why?”

“Because you sound like a typical citizen.” Trixie looked at me with a smirk, without turning her head. Then she returned to observing the decaying scenery and I realized she was staring at the Sky Palace. “Rarely does anypony in Canterlot have to be asked twice to give the Crown some flak.”

My frown deepened.

“And you almost sound like you are trying to say they aren’t the bad ones,” I retorted, my tone a bit more accusing than I intended. But I couldn’t help it – Trixie might have gotten used to it over five centuries, but I refused to accept Canterlot as it was.

“There are no ‘bad’ or ‘good’ ones in Canterlot these days, only something in between. The difference is that some care to keep their position on that scale and others do not.” I could hear slight annoyance in Trixie’s tone as she explained the situation to me, though I had a feeling that it wasn’t caused by my accusation, but rather by my views on how things should be. “And when it comes to the Crown they are not inherently ‘bad’, though they are definitely not good at governing at times.”

Trixie and I were very different ponies – it was true five hundred years ago, and it was still applicable now. And while I could argue with her about morals and what was good and bad, I knew it would be an exercise in futility, as it always would be. If anything, I should have listened to her – she lived far longer than me and had more experience. Though, it was the knowledge of a survivor. Such concepts as virtue weren’t lost for her, but under the city, especially that deep, it couldn't be the first priority when making decisions.

“Who are they, actually?” I decided to change the topic a bit with a question I had already asked once, ironically not so far away from where I was now, thought it felt like that happened months ago. “Rarity’s descendants?” A shocking guess came to my mind. “Has Rarity become a Former One? Or any other nobles?”

“Nah, they are normal ponies, just not the smartest ones, judging by their decisions.” Trixie waved her hoof in the air in dismissal of my idea. “They make video transmissions of themselves every so often, though nopony has ever met them in person – the Sky Palace is a little city in itself, completely isolated, self-sufficient and impenetrable.” I once again caught her looking at the distant tower with narrow eyes, as if measuring it. “Trust me, I tried to get inside many times, and I wasn’t the only one.”

I joined Trixie in studying the distant fortress. I realized that in a sense it didn’t really fit its surroundings, but rather forced itself to blend in by its sheer size and menacing appearance. I had also kind of expected the Sky Palace to be the most luxurious building in the entire city, but instead I was looking at what seemed to be gargantuan plates of smooth and flat dark grey stone aligned with each other in a rather timid display of abstract architecture. Still, the Palace was impressive, as it was enormous – though it wasn’t as wide as Mount Diamond Point, the foundation of the tower had to be at least half of the mountain’s diameter. The entire population of Ponyville could easily be accommodated inside it with a lot of space to spare. The imposing width gradually diminished until the steeple reached the clouds, so I didn’t know how it looked beyond the leady curtain, but something was telling me that was where the throne room had to be located.

“So they just sit there, in their ‘ivory tower’, enjoying themselves and watching the city die?” Trixie might think of them however she wanted, but that was a fact nopony could deny and there was no relativity in the morality of that action, or rather inaction.

“Let me guess.” She let out a deep sigh and glanced at me with irritation, ”it was that filly from the Edge who told you that?”

And so what? I had seen with my very eyes the truth behind those words, a few days in Canterlot was more than enough. Even without Tin Flower’s words, the Crown’s guilt in the state of the city was undeniable.

“I also spoke with a Moth,” I said instead of answering her question. “A pony wouldn’t bite a feeding hoof it wasn’t that bad.” Though Delight didn’t vehemently oppose the Crown, I could tell she didn’t approve of the way things were.

Trixie sat on the ground with a soft clack of metal against stone. I followed suit. It looked like we were about to be here for while.

“Well, as I said, you will have a hard time finding a pony in this city who thinks anything good of the Crown,” huffed Trixie, exasperation now clearly noticeable in her voice. “Which appears strange to me,” she continued, “considering they are the only thing standing between Canterlot and its fall.”

I desperately tried to understand Trixie’s reasoning – she was adamant on the Crown being an organization with a positive influence on Canterlot. But that wasn’t what irked me the most – her reluctance to tell me any proof of the Crown’s well-meaning role was. I had to force her then, going by contradiction.

“Well, maybe you should stay at the Junkyard for a while and see for yourself how good they are at keeping this city alive,” I stated icily, my rage barely bridled as I remembered hugging two emaciated, shivering fillies as the wind wailed dirges at the border between the dead soil seeping death and the rusty cemetery for ponies and machines.

“The Edge is controlled by the TCE, Twilight!” Trixie barked at me, her eyes flaring with anger. For a single moment I felt fear overcoming my senses, as she towered over me with her face contorted in fury and a sinister halo of quivering shadows embracing her sullen silhouette. Apparently she saw that in my eyes and took a moment to calm herself. Clearing her throat, Trixie continued in a more collected tone, “The Crown fights them so they won’t drive the poor ponies to the grave.” My eyes shot wide in surprise – I never thought about such a possibility. After all, the TCE and the Crown were rivals at the very least, and they both were involved in life at the Edge. It would be logical if both sides had been pursuing somewhat different interests. “Didn’t expect that, did you?” Trixie commented at the change in my expression, adopting the same cold tone I had used moments before. She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “Because that’s what the TCE wants everypony to think.”

“Okay.” Now she started to make a real point. “Maybe you are right. But what about the city? The Royal Guard doing whatever they want? The brothels?” I tried to remember other crimes of the Crown, but so far those were the first that came to my mind.

“The brothels do the city more good than harm – don’t scowl at me.” I would have surely argued if she didn’t silence me in time – I didn’t approve of that despicable enterprise no matter what. “The Crown also keeps the healthcare system running smoothly, though nopony ever remembers that for some reason.” Initially, it surprised me as much as the fact that the Crown was in fact saving the Edge dwellers, but then understanding dawned at me. If one wanted to have a smoothly running network of brothers, one had to ensure that their clientele was healthy. “But most importantly…” She paused and narrowed her eyes as she looked at me. “What do you know about the purists?”

“I know enough to not like them.” Just a new name for tribalists – in essence, nothing else changed. It seemed as long as there were differences between ponies, there would be a supremacy movement. If there weren’t tribes based on morphology, there would be discrimination by color or something else.

“The Crown keeps the city in a rickety equilibrium of powers, you should know.” Trixie swept her hoof over the view of the city, though I realized that she was pointing at the Thunderspires, at some distant place beyond the Everfree and at point to the north from the Palace. The pegasi, the earth ponies and the unicorns, respectively, I guessed. “Besides the purists there are also many other groups powerful enough to take over Canterlot if they are given freedom, and that would be the end of it. Everypony in the city who has their interests impeded by the Crown either pays it back in kind, creating as much trouble as possible, or makes sure nopony supports the government.” She concluded, stomping her hoof against the hard ground. “They keep everypony at bay and most importantly, the TCE.”

“So, that company is the true villain?” After all, Trixie didn’t try to protect them, and while there might have been hidden truths about the Crown which either made them different from what they appeared or outweighed their misdoings, some things the TCE did couldn’t be redeemed by any good acts.

“Are you even listening to me?” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “There are no heroes or villains anymore. Like it or not, the TCE feeds the entire city and produces more than half of the goods.” I frowned and she waved her hoof in the general direction of the city. “Sure, if there wasn’t the Crown, they would have enslaved the entirety of Canterlot. But without them it would have been wiped out by famine a long time ago.”

I stared at the dreadful landscape stretching in every direction, twinkling with colorful lights here and there, like the embers of a dying bonfire. I hated to admit it, but Trixie was most probably right. I desperately wanted it to be simple: there were the “bad” and “good” ones, the latter fighting the former to make things right. As appealing as that concept was, it also was so rare to exist in its pure form. Even Nightmare Moon had a somewhat fair point.

I should have expected Canterlot to be a convoluted political mess, with some ponies fighting for survival and others for control over those who were too busy surviving to do anything else. That’s what it was now – but once, it all was so different. The Equestria I left had some analogs for that nightmare, but something made them bloom into reality, to make any morality be overgrown and lost.

“Then tell me why.”

“What do you mean?” Trixie frowned in confusion.

“Why is Canterlot is like this?” I motioned with my hoof, pointing at the scarred wall, at the desolate suburbs, at the Everfree Forest harbouring the murderous renegades. “How did it come to this?”

Trixie’s expression sombered and she sat silent for a minute, staring at the ground with hard eyes. Then she scowled, sighed deeply and spoke, staring at the horizon.

“You know, I was there when the Great War was won,” she said in a quiet voice, and I instantly felt a pang of regret for bringing up that horrible time again. “I watched with my very eyes how Shining Armor severed King Sombra’s head with his sword.” She paused in thought and glanced at me. “‘Valor’, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was the sword Celestia gifted to him when he became the captain of the Royal Guard.” As far as I knew, she herself smithed and enchanted that blade. “But what does that have to do with this?” Then I understood that Trixie was actually biding her time, because when she spoke again, she grimaced as if in pain.

“Because I think King Sombra won in the end,” Trixie whispered.

“How can you say something like that?!” I instantly exploded and hopped to my hooves, glaring at her. Of all the ponies! I wasn’t there, and even I knew how harrowing that time was. So many ponies died during the war and countless others perished even after the Warlock was fallen! Princess Cadence died for this!

Trixie didn’t even flinch. She regarded me with a calm gaze and waited to speak again until my breath returned to normal and the expression of righteous indignation left my face.

“Over the years of the Great War, King Sombra used so many things, so many different ways and tactics. But in essence, they had only one goal – to incite fear.” She rose her hoof close to her face as if to inspect it for a lodged stone, but then… I instinctively stumbled back as another smoky and semi-transparent black hoof came through and out of it, continuing to move to her face instead of the metal one. “He knew its power and he wielded it like a weapon.” Trixie glanced at me knowingly and I remembered how some of the ponies at the Well looked at her – with terrified eyes. “And when the soldiers left the bloodied battlefields for the last time to return home, they carried it there in their very hearts.”

“He has taught Equestria to truly fear, to dread tomorrow.” Her hooves returned to ‘normal’ and she turned to look at the city, with eyes full of old sorrow. I realized that if before she was looking at it assessing, hollowly observing it as just another place, now she saw it as it was – a crucible of suffering, melting every life thrown in it into nightmare alloy. “I think this is why Canterlot became like this – the ponies are scared, and that terror passed over generations and still permeates their every breath, of each and every one.”

There wasn’t much to be said after those words, neither for me nor for Trixie, though I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was it true? Had King Sombra really managed to plunge the entire Equestrian nation into a state of permanent dread? It could have explained so much, and yet I felt like there was something more to it. Surely, fear was the fuel for the pony-equinoid conflict, and the Pink Butterflies were basically doing the Ebony Warlock’s job, but no matter how deep and strong the terror was, it alone couldn’t cripple the society so hard. Those and similar ruminations were making fruitless circles in my mind as we left the hill and headed towards the peaks of the ridge, or rather to the breach in them.

The Rambling Rock Ridge was a perfect example of a tectonic shift – from the direction we were coming, the south, it was a steadily rising surface of shattered granite, which ended with extremely steep cliffs facing north. Those ledges of solid rock went for kilometers, protruding into the sky like teeth, even and sharp. It would have been a great trouble scaling it and an even greater climb down the other side. Thankfully, a wide pass was cut right through the rock mass, as if a huge hoof punched out a section of a mountain. I didn’t remember it being there before. It was probably made specifically for the excavation efforts, and I couldn’t not be impressed by it.

Countless old and neglected roads led to that artificial gorge, like dried rivulets converging into one single river. We were following one such dusty path, circling around the hills of broken stone and tearing through the meager thickets of dessicated bushes. Grit whispered soundly under our hooves as we moved rapidly and purposely and there was a reason for that. The sun was not so far from finishing its journey through the sky – we still had a few hours before sunset, but as Trixie fairly noted, navigating either cliffs or the Junkyard maze in darkness was a risky endeavor even taking into account our magic. So, if we wanted to find my friends without wasting an entire night before, we had to hurry.

Thankfully, our path was even and undisturbed by debris or any other kinds of obstructions, so we spent not much more than an hour and half before we made it to the rocky walls of the ravine.

The two pointed peaks loomed over us, as if scrutinizing the ponies who dared to disturb the ominous echoing silence of the mountain passage. Though, occasionally, the still air would be disturbed by the sudden and otherworldly furious wail of the wind. It really scared me the first time it happened, so much so that I jumped into the air. With a chuckle Trixie commented that back when the mines were still open ponies called that place Lil’ Ghastly Gorge because of that. That periodic howl, combined with the rough dark basalt walls and the almost entirely obscured sky was creating a very creepy atmosphere for that place. I could acutely sense the sheer mass of stone hanging over us, as if we were being judged every moment of being worthy to be let through.

Eventually, the cliffs ceded to the already darkening clouds and we finally broke free from the unwelcoming embrace of the mountain. However, it was a bittersweet change in scenery, because the rusty bones of the Junkyard were readily greeting Trixie and me as soon as we left the crags. An endless forest of discarded metal sprawled before us, weeping dried blood to the ground as if the drizzling rain couldn’t decide if it wanted to be mist or to actually dew the twisted remains.

A few moments passed before I realized what was out of place – we weren’t moving. we had stopped and Trixie was patiently looking at me. And that was when another realization, a much less pleasant one, dawned on me – she was waiting for me to guide her to Tin Flower. The problem was, I did not have a single idea where to look for her – it was something I didn’t bother to think of before. Her shack was… near a hill? Somewhat closer to the abandoned mines than to Nebula’s sector, right? And it was about two or three hours away from the Toxic Dump. Considering that her dwelling effectively blended with the rest of the sector, looking for it relying on these vague directions would be a fool's errand.

I deliberately avoided looking at Trixie, because I knew – the moment our eyes met she would know. But unfortunately, she didn’t even need that to guess my mistake.

“Twilight,” she said, my name followed by a deep sigh, “please, tell me you know where to look for that filly.”

I slowly turned to Trixie and sheepishly smiled. She groaned and tugged with her hoof at her mask-face. It followed the limb like it was made of rubber, revealing the metal net of the carcass beneath. Then she released the metal from her hold and it splashed back at her skull, sending drops of metal in every direction, though they fell back at the wobbling surface midflight.

“I can narrow down the area where we should look for her – we don’t need to search the entire sector.” I tried to fix the situation as best as I could. I mean, a quarter of the sector was better than the entire sector, right? A sudden idea visited my mind, though I didn’t really like it. “Maybe you can use your magic?”

“Not unless you have a vial of her blood,” Trixie replied drily, and I winced. Really, what else should I have expected? Overwise, there were no spells for dumbness.

Awkward silence hung between us. Her gaze slid over the dreary landscape until her displeased eyes stopped at me. She stared at me for a while with her lips pursed in an expression of utter dissatisfaction until something sparkled in her eyes.

“We can go on a blind search or we can find Scuff Gear.” I perked at that excellent idea. “But only if you know where he is,” she added grouchily, but I was already thinking hard trying to remember my misadventures in this sector.

“He is… not far from the smelter..?” I mumbled uncertainly, glancing at Trixie for some kind of help, but she only rolled her eyes.

“Which one?” She pointed across the Junkyard at the towering plumes of smoke coming from distant faint spots of glow.

Of course I didn’t remember… Wait…

“No-no-no. He isn’t at the smelters,” I exclaimed, as I finally remembered, “his workshop is at some kind of an old military camp!”

“A military... camp?” echoed Trixie, rising her brow questioningly and scrunching her face in confusion. “Ah! You probably mean the old labor camp,” she said after a few moments. She began to mutter, tapping her chin with her hoof.

“I don’t have the Junkyard map, but I think I can dig out of my memory its location. Luckily, that camp is the only one left.” She paused, and her forehead became creased in a deep frown. “However, it makes my idea not that good,” she added with a grimace.

“Why?” I tilted my head, curious.

“The sector is in a state of war with itself from all we know, and that camp is a coveted prize for anypony fighting for control of the Junkyard.” Fair point. It had an infirmary and a prosthetic workshop; both facilities were priceless for the local population. It had to be the most strategically valuable place in the entire sector. “We are more likely to find tough stuff than Scuff there,” Trixie concluded with a rhyme, though I could see no mirth in her expression.

“What do you suggest then?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged after a minute of indecision. “We still have a few hours before dark and we can try to look for your friend by ourselves. If we don’t find her, we will wait out the night and I will sneak into Scuffy’s workshop in the morning.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.” I had nothing to add, since it wasn’t like we had many options. And Trixie’s suggestion was the most reasonable from all the limited potential combinations.

“Then lead on.” She motioned to the corroded labyrinth with her hoof, inviting me to take the place in front. “I haven’t been to this place for at least a hundred years.”

The Junkyard was just as bad as I remembered it.

Mounds upon mounds of rotting metal scrap with narrow patches of hardened ground covered in thick layer of brown-red flakes in between. Those mounts of refuse bristled with sharp claws of protruding remains, clawing at us as we passed them. I had lost count of how many times Trixie had to untangle her cloak from their grabbing, cursing like blazes every time. However, she stubbornly refused to take it off, despite my insistence.

And as we wriggled through the decaying maze of the Junkyard, I kept glancing at the sky, which grew darker and darker. We barely had more than an hour before sunset at this point. But Flower’s shack was nowhere to be seen.

I had to admit that we were wandering aimlessly, and I only hoped we weren’t going in circles. A few times I thought I saw something familiar, like a hull perforated by countless rains. But there wasn’t the neatly cut girder of old metal inside of it. Twice we stumbled upon high hills, though none of them had any shacks nearby and the view they afforded was providing no assistance in navigating the enormous graveyard of machinery.

Following Trixie’s advice we avoided coming close to the welcoming glow of the smelters. But even relatively far from them I was able to hear the resounding thunderclaps and tell-tale flashes of gunshots more than once. At least we were fortunate enough not to meet anypony at all, and especially a certain pegasus.

I was circling yet another pile of discarded metal plates, girders and pipes, so ancient they melted into each other, trying to find out if I had led us to a dead end or if there was some way to get past it. Dismayed, I turned back and found myself muzzle to muzzle with Trixie. I looked at her questioningly, and she gazed back at me sympathetically, slowly shaking her head – we had run out of daylight.

I let out a deep sigh. The prospect of spending the entire night in this cursed poky hole of a place was just as unappealing as I was dejected from failing to find Tin Flower. I opened my mouth to ask what we were going to do now, when Trixie suddenly swirled in place, almost slapping me with her darned cloak. I followed her gaze and before I even saw the object of her interest, I heard it, or rather, them.

Not high above us, across the sky ominous silhouettes rocketed, dark and yet glistening, tearing the air with the argute and furious roar of powerful turbines, making smaller pieces of scrap rattle as if from fear.

My proverbial heart fell in my chest. I didn’t need to ask Trixie to know that I had just witnessed the squadron of the Royal Guard. And I could tell that their appearance was not a coincidence – they were headed to the same place we were searching for, I knew it.

I exchanged one single glance with Trixie, her eyes wide and fearful, mirroring my expression. She gave me a quick nod and darted off. I wasted not a moment and leapt after her.

She galloped a few paces in front of me, using the shadowy strikes of her magic to cut and toss away any obstacles in our way. But still a lot of garbage remained in our almost straight path and I prayed for my hooves not to catch on any of it, otherwise, at this speed, the consequences might have been catastrophic.

Again, I heard the Royal Guard before I saw them м a hoarse commanding bellowing voice booming through the damp air followed by the shrill panicked yelps almost making me stumble – Tin Flower’s and Delight’s desperate barks.

Suddenly, Trixie tore into a clearing and I barely managed to avoid crashing into her. The moment I regained my senses, I froze in my tracks.

A dozen of heavily armored and armed figures turned to us, all but one – likely the commander of the party, the pony in the different, more lithe metal suit, which, however, looked much more dangerous, thanks to the two large cannons mounted on their shoulders. And these guns were pointed straight at Tin Flower, who stood defiantly before the towering figure. Clandestine Delight shivered, cowering beside her with a just as frightened Red Wire hiding under her dirty wing.

“Where is that equinoid!?” roared the Royal Guard, taking a step forward, pressing the wide barrels into Flower’s chest, but the filly stood her ground.

The sight wasn’t what made me teeter.

At that very moment the Guard sharply turned her head at me and staggered as if struck.

Our eyes met.

The glowing neon purple of a machine and the brilliant dark rose of a pony.

The commander recovered, took an uncertain shaky step forward.

“T-t-twilight?” rasped Rainbow Dash in a suddenly weak and stuttering voice.

How could it be? I stared at Rainbow, dazed, unable to tear my gaze from her eyes, just as brilliant and bright as I remembered them. Through the translucent glowing visor revealing half of her face I saw that she was just as young as she was last time we met on that fateful flying strip. Not even a single wrinkle, though the circles under her eyes were worse than she ever had.

In strange unison we were taking slow and uncertain steps towards each other, as if we were wading through water. In the corner of my eye I saw Trixie, just as bewildered, walking by my side and giving me worried glances. Flower stood where she was, utterly confused, while Delight and Wire were trying to discreetly move away from the scene. The scarlet maned filly was whispering something angrily to her friend and tugging her with the golden glow of her magic, but to no avail. On the other side, to my left, the rest of the Royal Guards were enclosing on Trixie and me, though they moved tentatively, throwing questioning looks at their commander, asking for instructions in muffled, unintelligible voices.

Suddenly, with a resounding twang of assaulted metal and quiet pop one of the armorclad figures slumped to the ground in a heap of lifeless limbs as though mown down.

There was a single moment of shocked silence, frighteningly long enough for me to realize that the guardspony was shot down by a rifle I had already seen in deadly and silent action. And in the exact moment I came to that horrible conclusion, the world to my left exploded.

Gunshots pealed through the air accompanied by the blinding flashes of firing weapons, lighting up the furious muzzles of ponies who otherwise would have been unseen amongst the scrap. Upon a hill a pegasus stood, wind tearing at her hood as she grinned maniacally, barking the order to kill “the Crown’s dogs” over and over, each time choosing different, but still murderous words.

However, it seemed that only Pepper Mercury's gun was powerful enough to penetrate the fabled armors… the descendants of the design created by Moondancer and I. The leaden shells ricocheted from the arcanium plates harmlessly, the guardsponies didn’t even flinch. And in fact, they were already moving. Even before their comrade hit the ground fully, they began to react. Dash gave me a last worried glance, and her face became obscured by metal plates which swiftly slid over her visor. Then she instantly began to bark orders, and the guns on her shoulder came to life with an eerie glow as she took cover, following her own instructions and the example of the squad.

I still stood dumbstruck, but it lasted only a few seconds – a stray, or maybe not, bullet impacted with my shoulder with force strong enough to make me stumble, but luckily not to pierce my plating.

Panicked, I swirled my head around, looking for cover, but then I realized that it shouldn’t have been my priority right now. I frantically glanced around again, looking for my friends this time – unlike me or Trixie, or even the Royal Guard, they couldn’t afford to take a bullet. After a few agonizingly long moments I finally saw them – Flower, Wire and Delight took cover behind the overturned rusty plate of some machine’s hull. Almost tripping over my hooves, I madly dashed to them, catching a few more shots with my plating on the way.

I all but fell on them, guided by my inertia and fear and was immediately wrapped into a hug by Tin Flower, which I returned without hesitation, but it didn’t last for long.

“Girls, are you alright!?” I exclaimed and immediately began to inspect them for injuries, not waiting for their answer. Both fillies looked unharmed, though pale from fear, but Delight was nursing her wing, wincing and grimacing. I moved as close to her as the cramped space of our cover could allow to take a closer look at her injury, but she pushed me away.

“I was just grazed by a stray bullet,” she muttered over the din of gunfire pelting the plate covering us. She finally revealed her wing, once pristine, but now speckled with pink in addition to the brownish black grime of the Junkyard. “I’ll be fine, it’s nothing.” I gave her a long hard stare which she endured unwaveringly and decided not to bother her anymore, at least not until the shooting ended.

We half-sat, half-stood for a few moments, ducking as low as we could, exchanging glances of worry, relief and confusion, and none of us spoke as we anxiously listened to the unceasing shooting. If anything, the clamor became even louder as it was joined by the strange high-pitched sounds accompanied by the whine of magic crystals overheating and flashes of colorful light, but neither me, nor the girls dared to check out what was going on.

Red Wire was the first to break the strained silence between us.

“Twilight,” she began in her trademark grouchy tone, “when did you become friends with the Royal Guard?” she venomously commented on my interaction with Rainbow, betraying her disapproval.

In truth, I really hoped that I actually was friends with the entire Royal Guard, not with just Rainbow Dash, which was also a question by itself. After all, before I arrived, things didn’t seem to be going very well for anypony involved.

“I know their commander, she is a friend from my time – Rainbow Dash.” Again, I hoped that I was telling the truth and that it was indeed her, though there weren’t many other options. It still was unbelievable. I could understand how Trixie survived, but there was a difference between “living longer than one normally does” and “returning from being obviously dead”. However, on second thought, I wasn’t really one to talk, since I fell under both categories.

“I thought you said she was dead,” Flower said from my side. It was the first time she had spoken a word since we rejoined, though she compensated for her prior lack of words by clinging to my side, which was speaking volumes by itself.

“I thought so too.” I had to close my eyes for a moment and focus on keeping away memories of the nightmare in the Tunnels. Everything was pointing at that, and Trixie confirmed her death, and yet Rainbow was here in flesh, defying everything I knew.

“And that equinoid who came with you?” Flower spoke again, motioning with her head in the general direction of the battlefield, since Trixie was nowhere to be seen around us. I imagined that for Flower, who was tech-savvy, her appearance had to be intriguing.

“She is Trixie Lulamoon, a Former One.” After a moment, I added with a smile, knowing that it would bear much more impact, “The Magician.”

As if on cue I felt an eerie disturbance in magic around – a very powerful spell was cast nearby. An unpleasant sound, like a huge sheet of fabric was violently and yet slowly torn apart filled the air and soon it was followed by blood curdling loud screams which completely replaced the thunder of gunshots. The girls whipped their heads around and, after seeing nothing unusual, were overwhelmed by curiosity and peeked from the sides of our cover. With a sigh I joined their unsafe endeavour.

An obsidian tendril of thick boiling vapor lashed at the metal scrap and ponies, launching both soaring through the air as if they were nothing but loose feathers. Any flesh it touched rapidly withered, soon leaving dessicated husks, falling apart into ashen flakes, carried away by the wailing gusts of unnatural wind. I felt pressure on my back – as I turned I saw Flower who climbed there to get a better view. Fur and cloth brushed against my front hooves, I lowered my gaze and met Wire’s slightly mismatched eyes.

“Don’t you have any normal friends?” she grumbled in mild disapproval. However, I could see that the filly was absolutely fascinated by the display of eldritch magic.

Although terrifying, Trixie’s spell proved to be extremely effective – everypony who managed to survive both its onslaught and the retaliation from the Guards fled for their lives. Very strangely, the Guards seemed to be departing from the demolished area as well, much to Rainbow’s dismay. Soon, she was left alone save for the crumpled form of the guardspony who was shot down. She bellowed vile obscenities at her fleeing subordinates, loud enough that I could hear in explicit details the amount of punishment they were about to receive for the disobedience and desertion.

The whip-like cloud of inky roiling mist circled the entire clearing and to my amazement returned into the completely still form of Trixie’s body. She loudly gasped for air and came to life. That sight made me shudder involuntarily – I had seen that skill used before twice, and those weren’t good memories. Frowning, I watched as she walked in a peculiar mechanical manner towards the raging Rainbow, ignoring her, and stood over the fallen Royal Guard, staring at it with a shocked expression. My frown deepened – something was wrong.

I glanced at my friends – Flower climbed off me, and Wire came out from underneath. They were both watching me patiently, along with Delight. Even with the gunfight over, the situation still was uncertain, I realized none of them was eager to approach the remaining Royal Guards – only I had a chance to do any fruitful negotiations. I nodded to them, but it was more to encourage myself than anything, and left the nook behind the battered rusty plate.

As I slowly made my way to the center of the clearing where Trixie, Dash and the unnamed guardspony were, I couldn’t avoid looking at the massacre around us. The little area devoid of metal junk also had no corpses lying around, unlike the metal scrap ahead of it. They either bore large burn marks, still smoking in some cases, or were not as much bodies but heaps of clothing with ashes rising from them. It was far from the bloodshed I witnessed at the food storage, but still a macabre and repulsing sight.

However, I felt a grim satisfaction when I saw the remains of the pegasus on the top of the hill where she defiantly stood not so long ago. Pepper Mercury’s body was black with soot and burns, broken and bleeding, crumpled atop the rusty metal scrap, repainting it with fresh crimson. Her wings, once gleaming and majestic, were now twisted and ragged, stuck out to the sky, outstretched and perforated by the many powerful blasts. The holes in the metal prosthetics were still glowing with dull orange, appearing as small solar eclipses against the darkening sky, and dripping molten steel. She was like a macabre monument to the cruelty of the Edge and her own.

The moment I was a few steps away from my destination, Dash stopped having a tantrum and just stood over her fallen comrade, muttering curses. Trixie was still standing over the armored body, her expression almost unchanged – it only became somewhat more grievous.

I came closer, so I was only a few steps away from them and my eyes fell on the armor. It was so familiar, the design more sleek and less bulky, just as Dash wanted once, but besides the helmet, which wasn’t conical anymore, it hadn’t changed substantially. I still could recognize more than half of the runes on the blackened arcanium plates.

The bullet seemed to have gone straight through the chest without losing much of its power, leaving a ragged hole on exit which now gaped towards the mournful, rapidly darkening sky. Though upon further inspection it appeared that the shoulder plate was damaged not by the bullet, but rather an internal explosion. It was only a guess, but I suspected that it was from the crystals inside detonating to such effect.

And when I saw that, it made me freeze and in the back of my mind I understood what it was that caused Trixie to be in her stupor.

The Royal Guard was obviously shot dead, judging by the mortal wound and almost non existent trickle of life from where the deadly projectile entered the armor.

It dripped from the angled plate and gathered onto the ground.

Into a puddle of yellowish-green ichor.

I stared and stared at it. There should have been so many thoughts inside my head, so many pieces of the puzzle coming together in one perfect picture, the answer to all my questions, to all the struggles of mine and of Equestria. But my mind was numb and as blank as a sheet of fresh parchment. I felt empty.

I didn’t know how much time passed before I realized that Rainbow Dash was intently studying me, her curious gaze almost palpable.

No. Not Rainbow Dash, she was dead as everypony thought, and – I hated to say it – as she should have been.

Beside me stood just another of those monsters. The emptiness inside me started to fill with rage and I ignited my horn, though I knew that I didn’t have and would never have enough magic to leave even a dent on its armor. But I wasn’t going down without a fight, not this time. And more importantly, I had to bide time so the girls could have a chance to escape. The only problem was: how was I going to warn them without drawing the abomination’s attention?

It seemed the imposter was quick to discover my intentions.

“Chill, Twilight,” Not-Rainbow said with a exasperated groan, “I’m not one of them.”

“That is exactly what you would say if you were a changeling,” I hissed back. As cheesy as that line was, it was true – and it bought me time I so desperately needed right now. I still had to figure how to warn Delight so she could fly away. Maybe Trixie could have helped, but she was still paralyzed with shock and sorrow.

“I’m too awesome to be copied by anypony, come on!” the changeling exclaimed as she took a step towards me.

I took a step back and narrowed my eyes. Was the visor of the armor helmet enchanted too? The plates protecting it were gone and a pair of annoyed, very realistically mimicked eyes peered back at me. It was a clear shot and it was worth a try.

“Alright, fine!” Not-Rainbow sat and threw its hooves in the air. “Remember that party when you and me were the only ponies awake and you mistook Rarity’s white ass for Celestia’s?” I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes growing wide in recollection of that embarrassing memory. “And you were so drunk you tried to seduce her even though she had passed out?”

I did remember it. If the situation was different and if I was capable of it, I would have gone a bit red, even despite my already purple color. That was one wild party, when I miraculously managed to withstand the knock-out power of Pinkie’s cocktails but failed to keep my mind lucid. Only me and Rainbow knew about it, anypony else was either deep asleep or had gone home by that moment. And after she stopped laughing her head off, I made her promise to never ever tell anypony about this.

And if Dash was dead as I thought, that secret was taken to the grave. But if she was not...

Then Rainbow had to be under the same spell Queen Chrysalis once used on my brother.

There was hope.

“Trixie!” I barked at the responseless mare, “She is under hypnosis! Can you do something!?” I cried desperately. “Please, help!”

Right now I was going to agree with using any kind of magic, no matter how vile, as long as it could tear my friend from the clutches of the evil queen’s curse.

Rainbow groaned again and slapped her helmet with her hooves in a display of utter exhaustion from the ridiculousness of the situation.

“She isn’t,” Trixie droned in a lifeless tone. “There is no foul magic involved and she is sure not a changeling.” My head swirled between them – none of it was making any sense. They weren’t supposed to act like this!

Trixie let out a deep sigh. “This is so sad…” she moaned, “and stupid.”

“Hey!” Rainbow barked at her, turning her head to give Trixie a glare. Then she turned back to me. “See?”

It had to be another of those virus-induced nightmares – it was all a surreal absurd joke my mind decided to play on me again.

I took another step back, my horn still lit, ready to fire a stunning spell.

“Then explain yourself!” I yelled at Rainbow, feeling like I was on the verge of losing myself to hysteria. “How did you survive? Why are you serving the Hive?” I barely held sobs threatening to wreck me. “Why did you let this happen to Equestria!?” I screamed at her and fell to the ground, shaking.

From the moment I saw the squad of the Guard tearing through the sky, my reality had become a harsh emotional rollercoaster, and I finally broke down. So much had happened, I had learned so many truths and my mind couldn’t decide what to feel at the moment.

“Whoah!” Dash rushed to me and picked my shivering form off the ground. “Whoah, there…” She continued to mutter, patting me on the back as I clung to her shoulders.

I caught sight of Trixie, who had come out of her reverie and was standing a couple of steps away, dismayed and ready to help, but not sure how or if it was her place to do so right now.

“Well, first of all…” Rainbow said into my ear and pulled me away from the hug, holding me by the shoulders in her outstretched hooves. Humour twinkled in her cerise eyes. “Are you kidding me, Twi?” she said with a hearty chuckle. “You put so many life-preserving enchantments on this suit of armor, you can put bones inside of it and they will come back to life.” I indeed had spared no expense enchanting the armor from head to hoof tips, but I didn’t expect the result to be so potent – Dash had survived the explosion that crippled me, even though I wasn’t even very close to it. “Sure, I fell into a coma and it took a while to patch me up and I’m kinda stuck in it right now,” Rainbow puffed her chest, though it was barely noticeable because of the armor, and finished with a smirk in her trademark display of bravado, “but it will take much more to bring me down even without it.”

However, her demeanor changed quickly – she cast down her eyes and sighed deeply.

“And as for your other questions…” Her hooves let go of my shoulders and she turned to forlornly glance at the distant silhouette of the sky-piercing Palace, almost lost amid the dark sky. “I’m not sure you will understand, but it was the only right choice.”

Anger instantly flared in me. There couldn’t possibly exist any circumstances under which siding with the changelings was the right decision, regardless of the point of view.

“They murdered Princess Celestia!” I spat in fury. “They murdered my brother! Applejack! Moondancer! Everypony!”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow Dash said absolutely calmly.

I stared at her in utter disbelief. What happened to her? She hated the changelings as much as I did. It took me and my friends a lot of effort to stop her from joining Princess Luna’s crusade. We couldn’t prevent her joining the war, however.

“That was basically what met me when they brought me back from the coma, a hundred years after the Great War,” Dash answered my question with a pained look. “Listen, from the moment that ‘Rarity’s granddaughter’ started to speak, I knew they were shitting me, I didn’t need to be Applejack for that. They realised pretty fast that I wasn’t dumb enough to buy their lies, so they just showed me the city, Twi.”

She turned to Canterlot again, silently watching the dark scenery, blinking with all possible colors. However, as I stood up and sat beside her, catching her eyes, I realized that she wasn’t seeing what I did, but rather was reliving memories. And judging by her forehead creased in a deep frown they weren’t the pleasant ones.

“Just a century had passed,” she spoke, her tone irritated and voice low from barely contained wrath, “and those idiots had already forgotten how horrible the war was, because it was exactly what was taking place on the streets. Ponies killing ponies left and right, equinoids flaying fillies alive in the daylight, warlocks on the loose, gangs turning entire districts into battlefields. A massacre.”

I looked at her in shock, not as much as from the thing I had just heard, but from the deep pain in her voice. Rainbow stared back at me grimly and intently – she wanted me to listen and to do it carefully.

“So I had a hard choice. I could die, fighting my way through the small army of changelings in the best armor that ever existed. And maybe I would even have a chance of making it into the city, where nopony I once knew was left.” She paused, to let her words sink in. “Or I could bite the bullet and join Queen Chrysalis and help to save what was left of Equestria, because, believe me or not, it was what she was trying to do.”

So she was behind it all, still alive, unchallenged by both passage of time and Princess Luna’s meticulous search, that vile, monstrous witch. Who else could guide those wretched creatures to do something insidious as infiltrate and replace the entire government? And it explained why the Princess of the Night still hunted the Badlands and ever would – the changelings were long gone, sneaked under her nose right into the very heart of Equestria, and she simply chased the shadows, blind from vengeance and turned insane by the loss.

“My loyalty still lies with Equestria – with ponies,” Dash declared firmly, staring me in the eyes with hard and stern resolve. “And I’m going to do anything to help them, even if it means to serve the Hive.”

I pursed my metal lips, feeling them slightly scrape against each other. Regardless of what Trixie said, Equestria did win the war, but failed to notice how it lost another, a slow and insidious disease eating right through its very heart. I understood Rainbow Dash, it was sorrowfully easy for me now to imagine streets red with blood. But the hardest part was to follow her example.

I had to truly accept the fact that ponydom was lost to the Hive and that Queen Chrysalis ruled Equestria right now. But what was going against anything I knew was the understanding that no matter how vile and evil she was, she had to care about the ponies and we were technically on the same side, according to everything Trixie and Dash told me. If I could, I would have gritted my teeth.

No, I couldn’t accept that, not yet. I might, eventually, but not at this very moment.

I raised my eyes from the burned ground to look at Rainbow and met her gaze, sympathetic and understanding.

I was in such a huge mess right now and there was no chance to escape anymore. The Hive, insane Princess Luna, the equinoids and their vacancy for the goddess, the coming end of Canterlot…

But I didn’t have to face it alone.

I leaned to Rainbow Dash, embracing her in my hooves and she readily returned the gesture.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” I whispered as the metal plates of her armor and my body clanked against each other.

“I’m glad to have you back, too,” she muttered in answer with a sniff.

Author's Notes:

Quite a chapter, eh?

I don't have much to tell, to be honest. Chapter 12 is being edited and close to be done. I'm actively working on chapter 13 and hope to finish it in a week or so. No side stories are in works, however I may return to the one I've been working on earlier this year after chapter 14.
The survey I've posted in the author's note in the end of the last chapter is still in power - I'll be very glad to see your feedback.

Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.