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.