Scootaloo craned her neck. The skyscraper just went on and on.

Well, technically, every house was a skyscraper, since they were in the middle of the sky, but this towering behemoth of dark glass and steel made every other structure look like somepony’s hobby project. Though that didn’t stop the many ponies in expensive looking suits and outfits from creating a bustle across the huge square, every seat and bench a place for formal discussion and exchange of documents.

Not everypony was actually a pony. Most prevalent were the gryphons, who looked quite peculiar, wearing neat suits and ties, their feathers, neatly bundled and adorned with subtle jewelry, poking out every opening and seam. They perfectly mimicked the most peculiar of them all, the massive statue at the center of the place, depicting a griffin lord, standing tall and wearing something halfway between a formal dress and royal regalia, and proudly holding up a tiny sheet of paper and a quill.

“In eternal decency and respect, The great houses gryphon-pony trade agreement,” Fluttershy read, “Because Friendship is Profit ... Hmm. That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

“Whoa,” Scootaloo said, “what are they all doing here? Why are they all wearing ties?”

“We caught them during working hours, I guess,” Fluttershy said, “must be awfully important work they do when they’re all going into that big building.”

“I’ve never seen a building so high,” Scootaloo said, “is it the highest building in Equestria?”

“Um,” Fluttershy said, “I guess that depends on where you stand.”

“Look,” Scootaloo said, “the sign says there’s a restaurant on the bottom floor.”

“You’re right,” Fluttershy said, “What do you say, Scoots? Are you hungry? Wanna pay it a visit?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo said. Her stroller rolled smoothly over the marble slates, carefully steering clear of business deals and annual reports.

If the court outside was unusual, the restaurant was the epitome of eccentricity. It was more of a huge banquet hall than a dining room, every visible surface covered in decorations and decorated decorations, illuminated by massive chandeliers. The style just screamed classical pegasus engineering, smooth, sleek surfaces, marble, clouds and decorative pillars, but at the same time it was not. Most materials were either black or obsidian, countless jagged torches and magical lights imitated the light of day.

Obviously it wasn’t real cloud, because inside were the same wingless tourists as everywhere else. The dimensions were quite impressive, Fluttershy’s hoofsteps resounded from the walls as they entered the garderobe. It had more than enough room to park the stroller, and Scootaloo was unbuckled and lifted out, finally able to stretch her legs and shake out her tail from the long ride.

“Good day, madame,” the receptionist said, “and good day, little miss.”

Being this close to a big, scary griffin would have been a bit unsettling under usual circumstances, but she was so decently dressed in her modest costume and tie, you were hard pressed not to display the most proper manners yourself.

“Um, good day,” Fluttershy said, “We’d like to have a table for just us two. If it’s not a bother, that is.”

“Of course, this is not a busy hour,” the receptionist said, “you will have free choice of your table. Please follow me.”

The table could have housed an entire dinner soiree, but it was the smallest they had. On the plus side, they could barely hear the conversation from all the way over to the next table, so it would probably be a quiet and peaceful meal. Except maybe for the company of the waiter, who was already standing attention.

“Very good,” the receptionist said, “Greyson here will fetch a high chair for the little miss, and the entree will be served.”

“At once, madame,” Greyson said.

He leapt through the air as silent as an owl, and promptly returned carrying with an elaborate high chair that matched the polished wooden furniture.

“Um, okay,” Scootaloo said, but Greyson had already picked her up very gingerly, his claws dull beneath samite gloves. The high chair sported a little rubber pad on the seat to protect the wood from any possible accident, though the pad was obviously unnecessary, as Greyson softly sat Scootaloo down onto her thickly protected rear.

“Oh, thank you,” Fluttershy said as Greyson pushed her chair to the table.

“Of course, madame,” Greyson said, “do you wish to see the wine carte, or would it rather be our selection of fresh juices.”

“Um, juice will be fine,” Fluttershy said.

“Very good,” Greyson said, “my colleague will bring the entree, and I will return with the menu.”

Without missing a beat, he went over to the next table and began making polite jokes and conversation there, all the while teasing out the guests’ orders. Another griffon appeared by the table and put down a plate in front of Scootaloo and Fluttershy each.

“Uh, what’s this,” Scootaloo said.

“Um, looks like a … salad?” Fluttershy said.

In the middle of the oversized plate lay a single salad leaf, garnished with a walnut and some kind of reddish sauce. Strawberry, it turned out, when Scootaloo picked it up and ate it. Fluttershy decided to forego the large selection of cutlery and eat hers with her hooves too.

“Was it to your taste?” Greyson said, appearing at just the perfect moment.

“Tastes really good, actually,” Scootaloo said, “but it’s so small. That all we’re gonna get?”

“Oh, not at all,” Greyson laughed dryly, “it’s but gryphon custom to serve a meal in small and varied courses. It symbolizes the luxury of choice.”

“Gryphon custom?” Scootaloo said, “Is this, like, a gryphon place?”

“Oh?” Greyson said, “you don’t know about this location? Why you’re in Obsidian Tower, the largest building in the business district and symbolic seat of power to the great gryphon family of the Obsidian Claw, of course.”

“Great gryphon family?” Scootaloo gasped, “So it’s like the Pendaros and the other great families?”

Greyson chortled and smoothly passed it off as polite cough. “You’re quite well versed in history for your size, do you know that?” he said, “but no, not exactly like that. The Pendaros wouldn’t have allowed anyone who isn’t a pony to join their ranks, for starters.”

“Really?” Scootaloo said, “That’s mean.”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, “but those days are ancient history. The Obsidian Claw was one of the families who helped the city’s growth long after the rebellion, in no small part with the famous trade agreement to which you can see the monument outside.”

“Cool,” Scootaloo said, “Are you Obsidian Claw too?”

“Oh no,” Greyson laughed, “I actually ended up here studying sociology. This is just my summer job. Which reminds me, I need to get back to it. So, madame. What would be the main course.” He leaned in to whisper. “You should take the day menu, it’ll give you the most bang for your buck.”

“Um, the day menu please,” Fluttershy said.

“Very good,” Greyson said and winked before transitioning to the other table again.

The waiter soon brought the first course. It was a crispy fried roll served with a splatter of sauce, tasting of fresh juicy vegetables but also yummy fried batter. Scootaloo was allowed to eat on her own. It went fairly well, she thought, but Fluttershy ended up having to wipe Scootaloo’s mouth and hooves off with a napkin to make her presentable again.

The second course consisted of a light assortment of fresh fruit and a glass of mineral water to cleanse the palate. It was followed by tomato soup and a slice of toasted bread, which was pretty funny to eat because it made those pretty red splashes on the tray. The meal was rounded off by a nice piece of sponge cake with a small helping of jam.

“Wow, it really was a nice meal,” Fluttershy said, “I’m starting to get --”

The next course arrived. A spicy chicory salad. Relentlessly the courses followed, an assault of exotic compositions and sensual aromas, served to the most appetizing of arrangements. Poached eggs, fresh grapes, fried noodles, and a bit of apple foam for variety. Scootaloo valiantly helped Fluttershy clear off the food, but they needed to order a glass of fresh grape juice to wash it all down.

“This juice is really good,” Scootaloo said, “All of it tastes good.”

“The secret is,” Greyson said, “most of the ingredients are grown locally. You can’t make it any better than growing it yourself, that’s what my parents used to say.”

“Grown locally?” Fluttershy said, “I didn’t think you could grow much on a cloud city.”

“You guys not from here, huh?” Greyson said, “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you take a little detour along the ring when you go back into the city? I think you’ll like what you find.”

“Great,” Fluttershy said, “I believe we could use the exercise.”

“Don’t worry,” Greyson said, “you’re almost through.”

There was only another plate of vegetable slices, and then the meal was topped off with a serving of little chocolate plates. Scootaloo sat back and rubbed her full tummy, as the table was cleared. She gave Greyson a little hoof bump when nopony was looking. Hopefully that would let him know how cool he was.

“Oh boy, I’m stuffed,” Scootaloo said.

“Tell me about it ... oof ...” Fluttershy said. She strained to lift Scootaloo out of the high chair, and barely managed to heft her overfull filly over the wooden tray, Scootaloo’s tail and hind legs dangling.

“Hey,” Scootaloo said abashedly, “I’m not really that heavy ... or am I?”

“It was a joke,” Fluttershy giggled, and gave Scootaloo a kiss on the cheek. She lightly placed her on the floor, and slowly and comfortably, they ambled back to the stroller, got strapped in, and entered out the little palace back into the world.

Business ponies and gryphons were still abound, although most went about their work at a more leisurely pace, the stress and tensions of earlier going up in thin air, as meetings concluded and contracts were signed. Fluttershy followed the masses of ponies away from the square, since most of them looked like they had the same goal in mind. She was content to stretch her legs a bit, and Scootaloo relaxedly crossed her hooves behind her head and enjoyed the ride.

The streets between the corporate office buildings were remarkably faceless. Apart from the street signs, it was impossible to tell them apart, the same pavings and fronts of metal and glass repeating over and over, and Fluttershy felt like she would have been rather lost if not for the business ponies’ inscrutable clairvoyance, heads all buried in newspapers, but still apparently finding their destinations.

Now their voyage opened up into a gigantic avenue. A very broad paved street ran between rows of walkways and greenery, overflowing with the most lively bustle imaginable. Scootaloo had no idea how anypony could get anywhere amidst these solid walls of bodies. Within the commotion she caught glimpses of the horizon, the street stretched on in either direction, and was perfectly curved in the distance.

“This must be the, ring, Greyson was talking about,” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “Look at all these ponies! And they’re all here, bunched up on this street. What are they doing? Where are they going? And how does the cloud hold up all the ... Hey! What’s that? Look, that coach! It’s driving by itself ... ”

“That’s a cable car, Scootaloo,” Fluttershy said, “it’s like a train, but it’s being pulled along the rails by a really long cable. Most big cities have them, because they can carry many ponies at once, and are quite efficient with space and energy.”

“Cool,” Scootaloo said, “can we ride it?”

“Um, maybe later,” Fluttershy said, “I don’t think anypony’s having much luck with that right now.”

The cable cars rumbled past, dinging their little bells at regular intervals, and they were completely and utterly brimming. There wasn’t a hair’s breadth of space left in the cabins, and still ponies jumped to and from, sometimes even on top of, the vehicles, in order to hitch a ride. So, walking it would be, then.

Almost every building was some kind of shop or store, huge colorful signs and decorations screaming for attention toward a matter of special sale or incredible offer that all came only once in a lifetime. In fact, most stores weren’t even sticking to their own premises, and spilled their stands and stalls out onto the street. It was like a bizarre rendition of a day market, where everypony was trying to sell egregiously useless junk en masse.

As Fluttershy navigated her way through the crowd, criers incessantly praised their wares, from raw materials and textiles at discount prices to spare parts and baubles and trinkets with the longest guarantees. There were still many gryphons among them, and boy, did they make good criers, Scootaloo noted, clamping down on her ears.

“They sure have a lot of junk around here,” Scootaloo said, “I wonder if we couldn’t find anything useful.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Scoots,” Fluttershy said, “how about we look around a bit? I’d love to find something to bring back as a souvenir for the girls.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “it’d be really neat if I could bring back something for Applebloom and Sweetie Belle as well.”

Empowered by a little bit of money that Fluttershy gave her, Scootaloo took off and plunged into the fray.

Ponies were gathered around a nearby stall. The merchant held up countless necklaces made from supposedly real opals found in the vast canyons of the badlands. Scootaloo could see the color coming off some of the so-called jewels, and decided to leave this offer to the ponies who were trying to climb on top of each other to get one.

The next stall had more sensible things on display, a few nice pens, quills and pretty bound notebooks, but this one was besieged by customers as well. And these ponies were much more economically inclined, more than one of them pressed heads together with the merchant and tried to haggle down the price in a shouting match of unreasonable numbers, and even more unreasonable counter-numbers. No, thanks. Scootaloo didn’t feel like it.

Most stores were like that, assortments of random junk or aggressive marketing strategies, employed by the merchants as well as the customers, and sometimes even both. That is, until Scootaloo came across one peculiar stall.

It wasn’t so much a stall than a crate providing shade from the sun. Sitting on the ground in the shade was a small drake, or maybe a lizard since he had no wings, completely still with his eyes closed. He wore simple clothes, and his only jewelry seemed to be some kind of spiritual symbol. Laid out were mostly raw materials in various shapes that told Scootaloo nothing, but one thing in particular caught her attention.
It was a small piece of reddish rock, but it was strewn with countless small, perfectly octagonal crystals, shining a strong and pretty anthracite color.

“I wonder what that is,” Scootaloo said to herself.

“Mineral,” the drake hissed. Wait. How could he have known what she was looking at without opening his eyes?

“Looks kind of valuable,” Scootaloo said, “where’s it from?”

“Dunfurrow mountains. Far east,” the drake said, “Mineralogy institute not interested. So I sell.”

A pretty mineral from a far away mountain? That was kind of cool. Scootaloo stepped up and carefully put the bits on the ground. Then she took the mineral. When she looked up, the bits were gone. The drake continued sitting motionless. That probably meant the transaction was complete.

The mineral was really neat. The little geometric pebbles felt faintly, but unmistakably, magical. They wouldn’t be able to do anything big with it, but it was a pretty decoration for the clubhouse, and maybe Sweetie Belle could make it glow at night. Scootaloo went back to the stroller and stashed her find in a side bag.

Something else had caught her eye on the way. An old mare was sitting behind a smaller display table. The table was about the height of a colt or a filly, and was laden with an arrangement of brightly colored little things that was sure to reel in any little pony passing by. There were scraps of colorful paper and differently sized stubs of crayons, little plastic figures and toys in various states of disrepair, dollhouse parts and decorations, a pile of unidentifiable slime, tattered books, and a wide range of different kinds of wholly useless trinkets.

That wasn’t what had caught Scootaloo’s interest, though. Her sole focus was on the prize perched atop the mountain of junk.

Glinting in the sunshine was the little plastic handle of a foal’s pacifier, the small plastic ring that was attached to a remarkably pretty mouth guard, elegantly curved to cover the lips and the outer mouth area. The soft, gentle rubber nipple exerted an irresistible allure, it’s shape was ideal, formed to perfectly fit and delight tongue and mouth.

The mere sight made Scootaloo’s mouth water. Literally. She had to swallow several times before she could muster up the composure to even think about how to get it. And the pacifier had to be hers. The old mare knew it, too, her eyes were already trained on Scootaloo, satisfied that she had caught another one.

But could Scootaloo just waltz up there and buy the pacifier? Surely the merchant would know that it was for her. Maybe she should buy something else with it? Then again, even if she did, the conclusion would still be quite reasonable by the way she was clothed. Maybe she should go back and have Fluttershy buy it for her.

Scootaloo’s decision was cut short when another pony appeared from the crowd. A little filly had stopped by the table, eyes alight on the very same pacifier as she set direct course on it.

“Mine!” Scootaloo said. She leapt forward and snagged the pacifier for herself.

“Hey! No touching, you rascal,” the old mare croaked, “you grab it, you pay for it.”

“Okay, okay,” Scootaloo said, hoofing over her money, “here, just take it.”

“What? You think you can just buy me out?” the mare said, coins already vanished, “Well, I’ll let it slide this time. But you’d better be glad I don’t charge you extra for your cheek!”

“Whatever,” Scootaloo said. She no longer paid attention, for she held in her hooves her remarkable prize. The little pacifier was the pure embodiment of luxurious delightful calm. Every foal had one. And it made sense, because, with a pacifier in her mouth, her adventurous journey through the world was completed with comfort and relaxation that made every little filly feel like she could achieve anything. The big city with all its wondrous sights and intense impressions would never again be a match for Scootaloo when she was armed with the soothing powers of her new pacifier.

Finally, it was time. She had been curious for so long. Now, she would find out for herself how one of these tasted. Scootaloo held up the pacifier and was about to bite down on it, but she couldn’t.

The little filly still stood there, making herself very tiny, ears splayed in dejection. Her big, wavering eyes never lost track of the pacifier she had been so close to having, yet, locked up in Scootaloo’s hooves, the stride’s distance between her and her prize was further than the length of the oceans.

The sight was gut wrenching.

“I’m so sorry,” Scootaloo said, “I didn’t mean to take it away from you. Here, you should have it. It’s only fair that way because I was so selfish earlier. Take it.”

She put the pacifier in the filly’s hooves. The filly beamed, brighter than the sun, gasping excitedly before she promptly plopped the pacifier in her mouth. Then she hugged Scootaloo and toddled away with a spring in her step.

“Well, ain’t that a sight for sore eyes,” the old mare said, though Scootaloo couldn’t tell whether she was being sarcastic or genuine. “Hey, Hunk! Where’d that box of foal stuff go again?”

“Trash pile two, box four,” came the reply from inside a building. The mare expertly reached into a pile of junk under the table and rummaged around in it before pulling out another pacifier.

The pacifier was breathtakingly beautiful. It was much bigger than the other one, but the rubber nipple curved with such a soft, supple elegance that it would have conformed any mouth. The plastic handle had little patterns engraved so as to delight the hooves that held it, and the mouth guard was curved to fit the shape of the wearer’s jaw snugly. And it wasn’t just boring, old plastic, but the violet material was half translucent and completely suffused with stunningly pretty little glitters.

The pacifier, still wrapped in factory sealed plastic foil, was dropped straight in Scootaloo’s hooves.

“Here you go,” the old mare said.

“But …” Scootaloo said, “but I don’t have any money left.”

“Way I see it,” the mare said, “you paid for a pacifier, so you’re getting a pacifier. I’m not a rip off, you know. Well. Not always, at least. Now git!”

Pushing through the crowd, Scootaloo bounded back to the stroller. Fluttershy was already waiting there for her.

“Mommy!” Scootaloo said, “Mommy look what I got!”

“Slow down, Scoots,” Fluttershy said, but Scootaloo wouldn’t be stopped. The big little filly approached eagerly, and presented her newest possession. “Oh my,” Fluttershy giggled, ”So that’s what’s got you so excited. That’s a really pretty pacifier you have there. Is it yours?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo said.

“It’s cute,” Fluttershy said, “and look how it glitters. Like the stars! And it looks really sturdy, too. I bet it was made for very excitable little ponies. Do you want to try it out?”

She needn’t have asked, because Scootaloo was already standing basically on top of her, wagging her tail furiously, a storm of crinkles coming from under her skirt. Fluttershy unwrapped the pacifier and shook it out in the wind. Scootaloo was fully fixated on the small thing of rubber and plastic, as Fluttershy lowered the pacifier to her level and touched the rubber nipple against Scootaloo’s mouth. Scootaloo parted her lips, and Fluttershy slipped the pacifier inside, until Scootaloo’s muzzle was flush with the plastic shield.

Nuk, the pacifier made when Scootaloo suckled on it. Nuk, nuk. The taste was simply delectable. Malleable soft rubber comfortably filled out Scootaloo’s mouth, constantly caressing and comforting her lips and her tongue as it rested pleasantly in her jaw. The plastic shield massaged her mouth so delightfully with every suckle, and the nipple teased her entire oral cavity, playfully sliding around her mouth when Scootaloo released again. Nuk, nuk, nuk.

When it became clear Scootaloo was too distracted to move, Fluttershy picked her up and sat her into the stroller. Fluttershy took her time strapping Scootaloo in, smoothing out her clothes and pulling her skirt back down over her diaper, as she watched the huge smile grow on her filly’s pretty face.

“So, do you like your pacifier, Scoots?” Fluttershy said.

“Fuf wo iff oow,” Scootaloo said.

“That’s nice,” Fluttershy said.

Scootaloo was fully secured and preoccupied, giving Fluttershy a chance to pick up the pace. They appeared to be headed in the right direction, they could see the cloud spire towering in the distance ahead. They’d just follow the ring and arrive at the fairgrounds with time to spare. Traffic had thinned out somewhat, so there was room on the cable cars.

Fluttershy boarded one of the dinging moving platforms by its ramp, parking Scootaloo in a corner marked for strollers. From the outside, it looked like the rumbling vehicle barely matched walking pace, but it actually went surprisingly fast. The chain pulley mechanism inside the road dragged them past the pedestrians, as the wind played with Fluttershy’s mane.

With growing distance from the bustling office district, the houses became obvious dwellings again. Tinted windows were replaced by pretty curtains, smooth steel gave way to tasteful house fronts, and metal railings became nicely kept plants and trees. In fact, there was quite a lot of greenery. Almost every window seemed to have at least a herb tray full of supple green spices.

“Wooff uf fif,” Scootaloo said.

“What?” Fluttershy said.

“I fing dad fewf a wee,” Scootaloo said.

“Try again,” Fluttershy said.

“Wook,” Scootaloo said.

A tiny passenger had joined the top of the cable car’s cabin.

“A bee?” Fluttershy said, “In a cloud city? How? I didn’t think that was possible. And … oh my. What kind of birds are those?”

The little specks overhead were undoubtedly flocks of birds, and different ones to boot, some small, some big, some slow and some fast. Faintly, behind the bustle of the city, there was the pervasive melody of the birds’ songs.

“Wook over dere!” Scootaloo said.

A few streets ahead, the greenery took over. There was a bit of obvious landscaping going on, but the flowers around here looked quite healthy.

“Uh, I fink we should get off,” Scootaloo said.

“Oh, right,” Fluttershy said. She waited for the cable car to slow down, and disembarked via the ramp.

“I’ve never seen such pretty flowers in the middle of a city before,” Fluttershy said, “let alone a cloud city.”

“Maybe it’s a park or something?” Scootaloo said.

Around the next corner, the world suddenly became different. They stood in a meadow and a forest at the same time. A large, green field stretched on to the horizon, populated by the most various of plants and trees growing above, around and inbetween each other. That didn’t mean the houses ceased to exist, but there were fewer buildings far and inbetween, and most of them were obviously utilitarian, sheds, barns and seed storages arranged strategically along sprouting fields and farmsteads, brimming with fruit and vegetables.

The air had taken on a completely different quality, the smells were now earthen and ripe and mouth-wateringly tasty. There was life abound, bees and butterflies, little bugs and worms in the soil, and the birds came down from the sky to seek shelter in the trees and feast themselves upon the treasures in the grass.

“It’s cultivated land,” Fluttershy said, “in the sky. I’ve never seen anything like it. Just look at how many birds live here, and it seems the bees are doing their work with the flowers and the trees too.”

“It looks really cool,” Scootaloo said, “do ponies grow their food here?”

“Seems like it,” Fluttershy said, “but it’s not an artificial plantation, everything here grows on its own. Must have taken quite a bit of effort to get a stable ecosystem going in an isolated biosphere like this.”

They went into the field on a relatively broad and welcoming trodden road, leading past some fields and pretty wayside flowers into lush avenues between trees. There was nopony around right now, but the telltale sounds of agricultural work in the distance drowned out the city bustle. The familiar calm was a very welcome change to the otherwise high tempo of the journey.

The road didn’t long hold their interest, and Fluttershy veered off into a meadow. The stroller’s sturdy wheels had no problem handling a bit of greenery, though it also was clear this space was cultivated quite rigorously. None of the trees were particularly large or old, the meadow was trimmed, and there were the many scrapes and markings of forestry work.

They went up a little incline and stopped to look back on the city. So many little ponies, carts and cable cars going past the fields and busying themselves with their daily lives. How many of them even appreciated the wonder of a tiny bit of nature in the middle of pony civilization? After all, they were nature as much as nature was them, and the wondrous complexities from which all of ponykind had sprung even now held unfathomable mysteries eternally rewarding.

Scootaloo suddenly had an intense craving for her mommy. It was so awesome of Fluttershy to bring her all the way out here, to this little patch of earth, all on her own, without asking anything in return. Scootaloo was allowed to enjoy the little bit of calm and quiet in a fashion she could never have dreamed of, well protected and secured in the comfy seat of her stroller, calmed by the wonderful soft presence of her pacifier, and, most importantly, in the company of the most amazing and beautiful pony in the world.

Scootaloo reached out both hooves, and Fluttershy wordlessly leaned in and embraced her. Fluttershy’s fur was so warm and soft and made all the worries go away, as they watched the busy little ponies.