Fallout Equestria: Sola Gratia
Chapter 1: Where The Light Is
"Molecules have mass? I didn't even know they were catholic."

The Stable had been the last bastion of hope for the citizens of Equestria. It was a way out, to detach yourself from what was going on in the world, and secure survival given almost any circumstances. We were its inheritors, the descendants of the ponies lucky or paranoid enough to have assured themselves a spot inside of it. Our ancestors had been some of the first to realize that the nightmare wasn’t going to end, that the darkness of war would outlast them, that it would outlast Equestria. They had secured themselves in what was essentially a very advanced hole in the ground while the world outside slowly died. And now we did the same. But it would be false to say that no one left the Stable, and it would be false to say that there was no one left on the outside, in the carcass that was Equestria. We knew there were, as we banished them there, we forced them out, sent them to die.

My father, for example, had been one of the ponies strategically removed from the population of the Stable by banishment. I had never really met him, but from what I’d heard about him: I was glad that I hadn’t. He was a murderer, this much I knew, and for his sins he had been damned. I only knew him from his legacy; ponies here in the Stable seem to think that crime is genetic and very little sympathy is given to the broken family of a sinner. The way people looked at me in the years after he was gone never let me forget what the buck that had played an important, yet solely physical, role in creating me had done. As they shifted away from me and lowered their voices it seemed that they were all subscribing to the belief that the sins of a father really do pass to his sons, or in this case: his daughter.

I didn’t even know who he had killed, or how many, though one was enough to warrant damnation so I kept optimistic, always assuming that he hadn’t gone on any kind of killing spree. I also tried to believe that he must have had a reason, that he wasn’t a black-hearted monster as some would assume of all the damned. I wanted to think that my father was a good buck once, though this feeling of loyalty and hope towards him had always perplexed me. I hadn’t known the departed sinner, yet I felt more of a connection to him than most of the Stable! I kept that truth to myself though, as I surely wouldn’t be allowed near any more sharp objects if they knew that was the way I felt.

The Stable ponies had not made it easy to feel like I belonged; it was almost as if I was supposed to feel like I didn’t. Especially in the early years of my life, while I was effectively living under the shadow of a murderer. But that trend had ended and the cloud of suspicion ponies had held over me had passed, at least in public it seemed to have, and now instead of that suspicion I got sympathy, although the exclusion felt the same.
The sympathy had begun some time ago when I was at the age of cutie-mark crusading, on a glorious quest to find my destiny out of the very limited selection of destinies available in the Stable. At this age my mother had died. And when somepony died here everyone shut out their past opinions and shared an empathetic feeling of remorse. Like they all suddenly remembered how real death was, and drew from their own fear of it to generate the sadness they then felt for a stranger. From an attitude of distrust and fear generated from my father’s damnation, to sympathy and a modicum of care from my Mother’s death. This change seemed fickle and veiled…but I needed it.

Despite the much appreciated change of attitude towards me, I was still an orphan, an orphan who was old enough to look after herself in the Stable’s eyes. It wasn’t too bad; I lived in my parent’s… my mother’s old room and got support from those around me whenever they felt I needed it, support which was mostly in the form of checking in on me to make sure I was still alive. I now understand why their reaction to an orphaned filly led to such a course and unstable support system. Orphans aren’t common in the Stable; in fact, at the time I was the only one, and the first in at least a few generations. So there were no real facilities, no means to take me up fully or even guide me through the rest of my childhood. But I could not say that I was abandoned, as you cannot really be alone in the Stable, no matter how much you may want to be sometimes. In any case, despite the flaws and enduring uncertainty of my up-bringing: I got through it. Now I had reached the age where I could no longer be called an orphan and have, by chronological definition only, grown-up. Despite the fact that I am essentially unemployed and still have no idea what my cutie-mark means.

-------------------------------

The Faith was a group that had grown to include almost a third of the ponies in the Stable and had developed from a difference in opinions and beliefs with how the Stable operated. The Stable was originally occupied by ponies sharing the same blunt belief system, that there was no after-life and the Princesses were members of a powerful species who ruled Equestria as near immortals alone (I say near immortals because it is now a commonly held assumption that they most certainly died in the War.) And the Stable was built around those beliefs, specifically the one that there is no after-life. Ironically it took an idea from an old religion to generate what we had now come to know as the Artificial Afterlife Incorporation System. A system of judgment and eventual placement into an assigned fate of Ascension, Damnation or if your Karma was neutral at the age of retirement and you hadn’t achieved any grand feats in either the good or evil department…well, then nothing really changed for you.

The Faith grew from a small group of slightly more…creative ponies a couple of generations ago who had a set of ideals that were almost just the opposite. Their small group had blossomed as more and more inhabitants found it hard to resign themselves to the belief that the AAI system hinged on; that death was where it all ended, and your singular earthly life-span was all you had and would ever have. My parents had both been part of the Faith and as such I felt a sort of solidarity with them. When my father was damned their reputation had also suffered a little as a result (He had been a prominent member). And when my mother died, none had shown me more sympathy than them. I wasn’t a member. They didn’t subscribe to indoctrination and even my Mother had left me to make up my own mind as I was growing up. I had remained consistently undecided; my inability to make a commitment to either side of the after-life argument left me slightly outside of both of the group’s circles, hovering unsurely in the middle.

I was, however, on my way to one of the Faith’s sermons as I would be every so often. Despite the failure of their assurances that my mother was now in a better place with the Princesses, or Goddesses as they called them, to console me, I was still comforted by the feeling of belonging and unity that I got at the sermons so I occasionally felt a desire to go to them.

I trotted leisurely down one of the Stable’s claustrophobic steel hallways, pacing myself, in no particular rush to arrive on time and hear the entirety of the Confessor’s one hour sermon.
The ritual usually took place after dinner on any two days of the week. So when I went, I would follow everypony from the cafeteria after forcing down whatever hyper-processed synthetic meal that was prepared for us that day. I hadn’t gone to dinner tonight, opting instead to stay in my room and read, not succumbing to the usually irresistible call of nutrient paste shamelessly disguised as food. I peeked into the cafeteria, a place that I now had to pass to get from my room to the lower Atrium, and sated my dull curiosity for the nature of the meal I had missed out on.

“Hey Chips” I greeted the cafeteria buck who’s coat was the same color as my mane, a rooted light brown with prevalent gold implications. His own mane was a much darker, rich mahogany. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I’m just about done here.” Cinnamon Chips replied as he rubbed a damp cloth against one on the communal checkered tables with his magic. Ironically Cinnamon Chips had a name that sounded a lot more delicious than the food he made. I had never even eaten anything that had tasted remotely like cinnamon...the spice not the pony.

“Alright, I’m just on my way to the sermon, stopped by to see what I missed. What’d you make tonight?”

“Same as ever, processed nutrient paste in solid form followed by processed nutrient paste in pudding form for desert.” He answered with a wry smile.

“I mean what did you shape it as this time?”

“Vegetable Pie and Custard, and it was pretty well near convincing.” He chuckled.

“You’re a real artist Chips.” I swung my front hoof forward and checked the time on my Pip-Buck.
“Anyway I better get going; I’ve already missed most of the sermon.”

His tone, following his expression, seemed to get a little more austere.
“Why do you even go to those things? It’d make sense if you believed in some of that nonsense, but last I heard you haven’t had any sort of religious break-down yet. So why bother?”

“I… don’t really know.” I honestly didn’t, frequently asking myself the same question that Chips was posing. Despite my inability to answer it, I had never seen any harm in my admittedly questionable ritual. “I suppose I just need something to do, remember: the Unemployment rate of Equestria is now just me. Having a job might not seem like fun to some ponies but at least it means you have something to do with your time. At least knowing you’re calling lets you know what you’re supposed to be doing”

Chips glanced back at his cutie-mark of a restaurant menu and nodded. “Yeah, suppose I can understand that.” He conceded, “Now don’t let me keep you, run along to your thingy and I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast, alright? This nutrient paste may not taste good but you need it to keep you going.”

“I’ll be there.” I waved weakly and turned back out into the hallway.
I turned the corner and paused to look back at my ashy, light-gray flank. My enigmatic cutie-mark stared back at me. It was the same as ever, but I couldn’t help but to look at it. Two stylized golden Ones sitting parallel to each other, who could be taken as the number eleven, apart from the small golden dot hovering directly in between them. It looked like one-point-one except the decimal dot had jumped up and floated halfway up the height of the numbers, resting in the middle of the cutie mark like an obnoxious stain. Not that a cutie mark of the number eleven would have been much better. The only comfort I got from looking at my personable symbol was the fact that it was at least aesthetically pleasing, the rich gold it was colored in fit nicely against my gainsboro hide, reflecting on the lighter hints in my mane. The ones were solid and unique, looking more like simple, ancient symbols than the standard numerical value on a terminal screen or Pip-Buck. It still didn’t seem to mean anything though, that was what a cutie-mark was supposed to do, it was supposed to give some reflection on me, on my soul. A cutie-mark of a garbage disposal may not look as pretty as the symbol on my flank, but at least it meant something. The owner would know that they should pursue their bright future in the world of garbage and its respective disposal.

I shook off the irrational ebbing of anger towards my cutie-mark and continued on my way to the atrium, the lower atrium I should say, as the Commissary would never let the Faith use the main one near the stable door for their ‘rituals’. The Commissary were essentially the head of the stable, the second most authoritative figures in the system (the first being the Overmare). They were judge jury and executioner to the AAI system and orchestrated both damnation and ascension (though the Overmare always got the final say and could over-rule any decision proposed) They had tried to rub out the Faith in its infancy, when it was just a dozen rebellious zealots preaching ridiculously flimsy ideologies, their words not mine, but as it grew so did their tolerance for it. The group now constituted of at least a third of our population and was still growing. However, sermons always took place in the secondary, smaller ‘Atrium’. The one advantage of this placement was that the Faith could decorate the area to create the right environment for their ceremonies. I appreciated this, the decorations being one of my favorite aspects of the communion.

As I entered the Atrium, I stopped for a moment to take in the atmosphere of the room. The Confessor was not speaking and the ponies in the stalls, which were similar to those used during the Overmare’s announcements in the main Atrium, had their heads bowed in prayer.

This room during a sermon became the most colorful place in the entire stable, meaning that instead of the all encompassing steely gray with yellow stripes here and there it was steely-gray with red tapestries and carpeting, all illuminated by a frail golden glow emanating from the mock candle-light… featuring yellow stripes here and there. The candle-light itself was simulated by a few unicorn ponies who sat at different spots in the room. I had learned that spell when I was a little filly and could produce a golden glow with minimal effort. Sometimes I read by this light to get some respite from the usual whining fluorescents of the Stable.

Quietly swinging myself onto the end of one of the stalls I sat, head up, waiting for the prayer, or moment of silence or nap or whatever this was, to end. The Confessor looked up first, his eyes opening to reveal purple irises that glimmered in the magical candle-light as he began to speak.

“Praise the Goddesses.” All the heads lifted unanimously and attention turned to the white unicorn in front of us. The glow from the arcane illumination brightened slightly.

“Reflect on the passing thoughts that went through your mind as you opened it to the Goddesses, children of the faith. What fleeting wishes, hopes and dreams did you pray for the fulfillment of? Do you see them? Now imagine them realized. This is what waits for you in the Kingdom of the Skies, the kingdom of the Sun and Moon, not respectively, but together. The Goddesses await you in the land they themselves ascended to when the world was consumed by hate, war and balefire.

“For the Goddesses were not perfect in their mortal forms, they came down so long ago to guide our kind on the path that we could not travel ourselves. Before their coming we quarreled, fought with ourselves and undoubtedly, if our magic and technology had been what they are now, Equestria would have burned. As the rest of the world watched we would have destroyed ourselves.”

“But the Goddesses did come, they unified us under the banner of Equestria and we learned of our mistakes, but you may argue that our education was futile as we were destined only to repeat them. This is not the case my children, we were at peace for more than a thousand years, and when our unity was tested by Nightmare Moon, the demonic incarceration of a Goddess, and Discord, the epitome of Chaos and harbinger of our follies, we prevailed through unity and friendship.”

I knew of the stories he referenced, having read of them from the History Books and data files in the Stable. Our first, ancestral generation had documented most of their experiences escaping the war and I had read many of those that were made available to the public. Strangely enough most of the details of the war and the governance of Equestria during it had been censored, barred or omitted entirely. I knew only vague details of the conflict with the Zebras, and all of what I knew was heavily biased information from the emotional and opinionated logs of the Great War’s generation. The stories of Equestria’s history, though, seemed more credible, if a little sensational. Apparently six small town mares had harnessed the powers of happy thoughts and believing in themselves to defeat two of the greatest powers to challenge Equestria. To me it seemed a little far-fetched, something out of a myth or religious text. Speaking of…

“It is true that despite our successes under the Goddesses rule we were destined to fall, and so we did, when an enemy arose from over the sands and seas we could not stand together to face it, and instead we were drawn apart. Even The Elements of Harmony could not have saved us from our own pride and desperation at that point and though we claimed to fight for our country, in the process we tore it apart from within. And yet, after the end, as the world burned and the Goddesses ascended to their astral plane, we survived. The Goddesses have not rejected us, they will never turn away from us, abandon us in the cold dark, so long as we have faith we will still be together with them. We remain in the under-belly of a scarred and battered Equestria for a reason: Repentance. To pay for the sins of our ancestors and to redeem ourselves in the eyes of our saviors so that one day, we too, can ascend and join with them again, truly. We are not here as punishment for a crime our lost kin committed so long ago, we are here because the Goddesses still believe in us. They believe we are still good; we are to be their proof my children. So let us ensure that we will never fail them again, and strive to do better. Always.”

Despite my detachment towards this belief system, I had to admire its capability as a motivator. It was obvious that those who truly believed drew from their faith to keep going, to be strong and kind and good. They could take comfort from the horrors of reality in the belief that one day they would be taken away from it all, and they would have to work to achieve this. I often wondered whether this system was actually more effective at preventing people from committing crime, sinning, that the Stable’s system was.

Undoubtedly it would be if only everyone truly believed. Faith was the variable that caused the problem; I could take myself as an example and see that it was very easy not to buy into it all. And once you didn’t then it all seemed kind of ridiculous, from your removed standpoint. Was it fair to have ponies aspire to an after-life that would probably never come? Or was it fair to simulate that after-life as the Stable’s system intended to? Maybe I haven’t been able to commit to a side yet because I don’t have a real job and therefore have too much free time to over-think things like this.

“Though you may be enticed by the appeal of an ascension you are guaranteed In life, or you may see the banishment of a sinner to the dead wastes outside the Stable as a suitable punishment, do not give the systems of the Commissary a second look, for this is the system of the lost, the faithless, the ponies who believe our Goddesses are capable of death and existed on no other plane but ours, not as gods but as an advanced species.”

He said these words with an odd tone, not indicative of anger but more of pity.

“Let me reassure you that our ascension is equally guaranteed and does not last a fraction of a lifetime but an eternity; we will walk in the Kingdom of the Skies with our Goddesses I assure you. And what of the sinners? Those from our Faith who were cast out into the dead world, are they beyond saving? No, though they may never return here, there is always repentance; the Goddesses are nothing if not forgiving. This applies to those who refuted them, who deny their existence; none of them are beyond salvation. So talk to your families, help them see the light, save their immortal souls if you can and always remember to do better than those who came before, those lost souls who tore the world apart.”

His stance relaxed then, the Confessor was a powerful speaker. He put emotion into every word and phrase, yet maintained a relaxing and comforting tone. I enjoyed his speeches but they were not the main reason I came to these services. My favorite part was reserved for the end. I looked around to see how the ponies in the stalls had reacted to the sermon as I waited for the Confessor to pack his things. Some looked emotionally affected, wiping tears for the lost and the dead Goddesses from their eyes, while others seemed to be reaffirmed in their belief, proud of themselves and their Faith.

“Grace,”

the Confessor’s distinct voice resounded in the metal Atrium as he said my name. Hazel-Gold eyes locked with his old, shining purple ones.

“I am pleased to see someone who is not of the Faith can take lessons and enjoyment from my sermon, thank you for being here.” I nodded at him respectfully, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself.

“Would you kindly select a hymn from the book for us to sing in closing of our service?”
I nodded again and searched under my stall for the hymn book. My neighbor, a peppermint mare with a white mane, passed me hers.

“Thank you Julep.” She smiled and waited for me to choose one. I paged through the book, starting to feel the eyes of the ponies in the room on me as they patiently waited. I searched until I found one I knew and passed the book back to Julep.

“How about Number 73? I watch the Sun-rise, if that’s alright with everypony.” I looked around, nothing but pleasant looks and smiles. What had I expected; someone attacking me over my hymn choice? As if in answering to my half-question, the light dimmed as the unicorns began to focus on the song.

The music came straight from their horns as if out of a gramophone or radio except with the clarity of pure persistence. Some of the unicorns in the stalls who knew the instrumental parts of the hymn joined in until the sound had swelled to a beautifully rich and complex array of lyres, violins, cellos and double-basses all picking up after one and other, never leaving a moment unfilled with music. We let them bring in the song with an increasingly coordinated and full introduction until all the unicorns who could were a part of the breathtaking mass of sound. Then everypony began to sing.

I watch the sunrise lighting the sky,
Casting its shadows near.
And on this morning bright though it be,
I feel those shadows near me.

But you are always close to me.
Following all my ways…
May I be always close to you.
Following all your ways…

I watch the sunlight shine through the clouds
Warming the earth below.
And at the mid-day, life seems to say:
I feel your brightness near me.

For you are always close to me.
Following all my ways...
May I be always close to you.
Following all your ways…

I watch the sunset fading away,
Lighting the clouds with sleep.
And as the evening closes its eyes,
I feel your presence near me.

For you are always close to me.
Following all my ways…
May I be always close to you.
Following all your ways…

I watch the moonlight guarding the night,
Waiting till morning comes.
The air is silent; earth is at rest.
Only your peace is near me.

Yes, you are always close to me.
Following all my ways…
May I be always close to you.
Following all your ways…

The voices and magical instruments echoed throughout the Stable, resonating off the steel and glass, stretching deep and wide in the great underground sanctuary that contained the last remnants of the old world. This is why I came to the services, even when you weren’t in the Atrium and you heard the sound of the music emanating from within you couldn’t help but feel like you were connected, that you were a part of it. And when your voice constituted a fraction of the entrancingly glorious sound, you knew that you shared in giving the feeling to almost everyone in the Stable, including yourself. As the voices slowed and died down and the instruments tapered off, you could almost hear the slightly delayed echo of the last note radiating out into the world, carrying with it all the hope and joy this group of ponies could muster and sharing this hope and joy with all who heard it.

Some of the fillies and colts of the small families who had come to the service were yawning and rubbing their eyes with their hooves as we filed out of the lower Atrium by the two doors. It was admittedly late and even some of the parents looked tired. We had thanked the Confessor and they had thanked the Goddesses, and now everypony was heading home.

I ascended the small staircase to the upper level where my room was situated, humming to myself as I walked. My room was the farthest from the lower Atrium so the others had already taken a different turn or reached their own, waving goodnight to anypony nearby as they entered. Though the allocation of rooms was random for the most part, in terms of allegiance to the Faith or Commissary, I had noticed that my hallway was mostly inhabited by followers of the latter. I could only assume that this was due to the close proximity to the main Atrium and Administrative offices as the allocations of rooms was not completely random when it came to professions.
For the most part, maintenance workers lived on the lowest level, medical, educational and recreational workers lived on the middle level and the administration made up most of the upper level. The unemployed lived in my room. I pulled out my key-card and slid it through the slot with my magic allowing the doors to slide vertically open. I entered and the automatic portal slowly slid shut behind me, the fluorescent lights flickering to life, brightening the quiet simplicity.

I couldn’t help but feel incredibly alone then, the room seemed emptier as a result of the contrast with the bristling activity of life and that had constituted my evening thus far, the fluorescent lights bluntly complimenting the contrast when compared to the warm golden-red glow of the lower Atrium. I always had this sort of feeling after I visited in on a sermon, as it served to pull me out of my life for a brief period of time, only to drop me back out again an hour later.

This time it was different though. I didn’t feel lonely for myself but rather for the Stable as whole, we were a tight-knit community, I knew almost everypony’s name and everypony seemed to know mine, though I was hardly friends with any of them. And together we were completely alone in the world, a flickering light of Equestria buried under rock and steel. We were like a dysfunctional family bound together by location and a common ancestry, though we had so very little else in common.

On one side of the spectrum, or dinner table if I may beat the metaphor to death, was the traditionalistic head of the household, who was constantly at odds with the idealistic young free-thinker on the other side. Both had to display an impressive level of civility and restraint, if only to avoid ruining dinner.

There was me, sitting in the middle feeling incredibly awkward, as both sides gave each other funny looks in a silent conflict that I was not a part of, aside from rare occasions when I had to pass the salt from one to the other. For the most part, however, I just sat there and tried to eat as slowly as possible, only to give myself something to be occupied with, as I awaited the chance to be excused and escape to bed.
Maybe I was just hungry since I had skipped dinner.
Hungry and tired

---------------------------------

The next morning I awoke with the strange feeling of absent starvation that sometimes manifested after waking up, it had been at least eighteen hours since I had eaten anything and yet I felt just fine, so I was in no rush to get to breakfast. I had fallen asleep on top of my bedding and had therefore strategically avoided having to re-make it, points for thinking ahead past self! Or rather points for passing out with no regard for your own comfort.

I slid off of my bed and went over to the mirror to regard myself in all my morning glory. My mane looked especially golden in the harsh lighting, changing from its usually brownish-gold to a lighter shade that I called goldish-brown. It was an unappealing mixture of neat and disheveled on one hemisphere of my head, the darker underside of it made apparent by its respective golden locks sticking out so much. My mane was medium-length, soft, self-cut layers and waves of loose, subtle curls, bangs swept up and to the side. Ever since I started taking care of myself I had just let it be, with the occasionally haircut to appease the ebb of my softly raging compulsion for consistency. It looked as if I might almost be due for one but luckily, it was just wavy enough to spare ocular obstruction. I could put it off for now. What I couldn’t put off was a shower; I had found that the best way to destroy my manes will to defy gravity in the morning was to drown it in a torrent of highly pressurized water.

I didn’t bother putting on the standard white Stable Jumpsuit with the gold-trim, as usual, and made my way to the showers naked. Despite some of the more civilized, or stuck-up, ponies of the past insisting on remaining clothed in public, everyone here now accepted that this wasn’t a big deal. Made sense considering you could accurately use the phrase ‘naked as the princesses’ based on the pictures we had been shown at school, assuming that big shiny jewelry doesn’t count. There was nonetheless something awkward about undressing in front of the inadvertent voyeurs at the showers so I preferred to go like this, if I arrived naked then it felt less expository to me somehow.

After showering my hair into a semblance of submission I dried off and went straight to breakfast. I had never taken a liking to my stable attire and tended not to wear it, so my nudity persisted. The garment didn’t have any factional implications like most things in the Stable but once some of the Faith took to dying theirs a royal red, a practice that was quickly banned after a number of Commissary ponies got their new pink jumpsuits back from the communal wash.

I was late for breakfast and so most of the ponies had already cleared out of the large cafeteria. I went through the motions with the few that were there, polite greetings and pleasant, uninvolved conversation about nothing in particular as, one by one; they went off to answer the call of their respective destinies.
Or, to say it in a less dramatic way: They went to work.

Afterwards I helped Chips clean up the cafeteria. Breakfast was his simplest meal because nutrient paste is fairly easy to pass off as oatmeal, but I helped anyway.
When we were done, I set off into the halls to find adventure!...

I often felt guilty about not doing my part for the Stable and volunteered as often as I could for anything that I could. The most abundant in its availability of volunteer work was the medical wing which was currently occupied by one doctor, one nurse and sometimes one volunteer nurse’s assistant i.e. me.

Over the years I had picked up some novice medical spells with my horn under the tuition of Doctor Cross, a deeply red mare with a tight graying mane and a volatile demeanor, who gave me the chance to help out whenever she could. However I strongly believe that even if the world outside wasn’t burnt to a crisp in balefire the Stable would still be the safest place in Equestria and as such, the workload in medical wasn’t even enough to keep the two mares who were employed there occupied.

I stopped in just in case there was a way for me to help the good doctor, however when I arrived I saw that only Nurse Clearheart was present.

“Good Morning Grace” the light pink mare greeted me warmly looking up from her stack of paperwork.

“Hello Nurse. Is this a bad time?”

“I’m sorry to say that it may be, the Doctor is out on a House Call and I’m up to my haunches in this medication assignment drivel.” She gestured to the already noticeable stack of paper on her desk with the quill levitating in her pink magic.

“I didn’t know Cross made house calls, is something going on?”

“Special Case, same reason I have all this bureaucratic work.” Again she gestured with the quill.

“The secret kind of special?” my curiosity peaked, I half hoped it would be a secret so I would at least have a mystery to solve.
“Sort of, you know Saber? The senior member of the Commissary?” I nodded “Well then you know he’s almost at the age of retirement, and we need to get him as healthy as he can get before he ascends.”

“You mean before he’s judged.” I clarified; she didn’t know if he had a good enough Karmic score to warrant ascension yet, he could be closer to neutral and would therefore have to wait a year or two for re-assessment.

“He’s essentially the head of the commissary, where do you think he’s going?” She gave me an odd look like I had missed an important lesson in a class along the line somewhere. “Anyway theoretical speculation aside, I need to make sure he’s authorized to administer the medication he needs by himself. The stubborn buck is insistent on spending his remaining time at work. He won’t come in for anything.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then” I shook off her unsettlingly seditious statement and started towards the door. “Let me know if you ever need my help with anything.”

“Thanks for the offer Grace, I’ll make sure to.” She seemed to be only capable of making gestures with her hovering quill as she simulated a little wave with it.

While I had a competent to passable level of ability in medical volunteer work, I would only get in the way in most of the other more specialized fields. I spent most of what I could call my work time cleaning, working in the clinic or running errands, the most common of which was delivering letters from ponies with complaints or concerns to the overmare. Somehow in my running to and from her office I had sparked what could almost be called a friendship with the influential mare. It was primarily based on the fact that we used to play together as fillies, before our lives split to branch off in such different directions.

She had only become Overmare recently, elected by the democratic voting system which was overseen by the Commissary, who also served as an intermediary in between periodic overmares or stallions. She was still fairly young, only a few years older than me in fact. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like I had any mail to deliver today so I gave up on my quest for adventure and slunk back to my room.

I wasn’t usually bored during the day; as I usually had a fair amount to do in the form of odd jobs or reading up on the past or from its’ literature. It was more that I felt almost impotent. It wasn’t just because of my vague and unnerving cutie-mark, which I somehow couldn’t help but love and tolerate as a part of me, that I didn’t have an affixed job or career, it was more for the same reasons that I didn’t have any friends or relevant relationships beyond near-friendship.

I existed under the radar. Ever since my mother had died it had been that way, while people were willing to make sure I was fed and cared for for a while I lacked a parental figure to guide me through the normal progressions of growing up. In a way I simply hadn’t, I gave myself credit for having ‘made it’ alone, if only for having brought myself to go to school most mornings, but the simple fact was that I hadn’t really taken the step from an adolescent to an adult in terms of how my life progressed.

The Stable was content. If anything, most of its fields of work were over-employed with an adequate or more than adequate fulfillment of job positions at least. It seemed to have blossomed into the hyper-functional society that its designers had hoped for, crime rates were low and the two opposing factions didn’t even have anything as serious as passionate debates, they simply co-existed. The system, or possibly systems if you took the members of the Faith into account, was working. And despite the assurances that I was doing everything I could, and more than I was expected to, I couldn’t help but feel a little…irrelevant.
I spent the early afternoon conversing with Chips when I had gone in to pick up my lunch; a meal that was done in a free-form system rather than a set meal-time like breakfast and dinner, as peoples jobs, or lack thereof, made their day schedules differ.

After that I had returned to my room and sat at my terminal to continue work towards the completion of my own personal goal; to read everything on the entire database of everything. I had chosen to go through the logs of the first generation stable-dwellers chronologically and as such had read more about the fantastical pony super-team who combined the elements of KINDNESS, LAUGHTER, LOYALTY, HONESTY, GENOROSITY and MAGIC to complete the magical rainbow death-beam of concentrated friendship, than I had about the Great War that had inspired the hasty construction of this very Stable.

Most of the Great War stuff was censored or omitted anyway so if I got any kind of information from it it would mostly likely be broken up and incomplete on top of being thoroughly biased. I assumed these logs had been trimmed soon after they were written. The Commissary and the Overmare (or stallion) of the days of yore must have felt that logs describing the greatest failure of our species weren’t conducive to building a new society based on hope for the future. Or they must have seen how depressing it was that they encouraged the belief that death was completely and utterly final while logs describing the deaths of millions sat freely available for any and all to see. In any case, the Faith had come to exist and opposed that belief anyway so they may as well have left the logs completed.

I did find one log entry that seemed fairly promising; it was from about a year after the Stable sealing. I deduced this as we had come to mark the date with the day the doors first closed as a common starting point. This log was labeled year one, day seventeen. It seemed to be just after the Stable’s chief system of governance had been established and followed the introduction of the AAI system. I imagined they had left some time for things to stabilize before they made that announcement. I suppose that it would be quite a lot to take in for someone who had lived on the outside. I decided I could ignore my chronological system this once, skipping ahead almost two decades from where I had left off.

---------------- --------- ---------------

Log of Autumn Blossom
Year 1, Day 17

About two weeks ago we had something of a celebration of the Stable’s one year anniversary, it was…nice. Honestly it was the most normal thing I feel like I’ve done in a while, there was cake and music and games for the children, everyone seemed so happy. A couple of mothers who came into the Stable pregnant gave birth in the last year, and now Sprinkles is pregnant too. I sort of envy the ones born here; this place will be there home, now and forever. That will mean they won’t have to adjust like the rest of us do. Despite how nice the Stable is, especially compared to the alternative, it’s hard to forget why we are here, and how many aren’t. There are a couple interesting methods and tactics the Overstallion has proposed to implement in our education system to <data corrupted>.

Another interesting announcement was made today; they finally explained to us this new system that ponies have been speculating about. We knew it was coming since a couple of us have been drafted into this ‘Commissary’ thing already. Though they finally explained what the elevator on the upper level and the air lock near the Stable door were for. Everyone was called into the main Atrium at around ten o’clock this morning and ushered onto those stalls to listen to the Overstallion make his announcement. Firstly, he covered the obvious, the Commissary. It’s going to work like a committee that authorizes under this Overstallion, and all those in the future, as a diplomatic regulator and voice of the people. Seemed like its main purpose was to reign in the possibly despotic nature of the Overstallion/mare system and also alleviate some of the pressure on that same Overstallion/mare by helping with decisions or the enactment of policies. Nothing out of the ordinary there and if anything the crowd seemed pleased with the idea.

After going over how we can do our part for the community and the nature of the elections, which seemed democratic and fair apart from an arguably long term length, he got to the really interesting part. One thing I noticed while meeting with my fellow inhabitants at the orientation last year is that we were all very scientifically-minded ponies. Usually in a group of over two hundred ponies you could expect to find at least a couple dozen followers of some kind of old religion or subscribers to a slightly more creative belief system than what everyone here seemed to believe. And the system he then explained was seemingly designed to fit around that, which implies that they hadn’t admitted any of the other type of ponies into the Stable. Though they were a great minority, I couldn’t help but imagine a devout pony being turned away from buying a place here because of his beliefs. Maybe <data corrupted>.

The system was simple, yet fascinating; we had noticed a feature in the technological masterpieces attached to everyponies leg, the Pip-bucks, that seemed to be some sort of section for an invisible Karma counter and now we finally knew what they were for. These little devices could accurately monitor and score ponies actions based on morals and ethics and it would do so for the entirety of someponies life. Though apparently it wouldn’t need to after the age of retirement as that was when we were allocated an artificial afterlife, as the Overstallion called it. A person with exceptionally good Karma would be ‘ascended’ and somepony with exceptionally bad Karma would be ‘damned’. The terms held little weight at first but the Overstallion assured us he would explain them in time. He went on to explain the simplistic consequence of neutral karma, which was essentially a pat on the head and an encouraging’ try again next year’. Then, as promised, he carefully explained the two vaguely religious terms.

The system was, in fact, based on an old religion but the similarities were purely as a result of inspiration being drawn from it, ideologically they couldn’t have been more different. Upon retirement, or the crossing of either a positive or negative threshold (At which point the Pip-buck would send an alarm or message to the Stable’s main terminal) a pony was deemed either worthy of Ascension or punishable by Damnation. His description of Ascension was vague but oddly enticing, the elevator on the upper level, which could only be opened with authorization from the Overstallion and head of the Commissary, who was yet to be elected out of the current members, apparently led to a whole other floor of the Stable where the most powerful technological devices in Equestria awaited those who were granted freedom to use them.

They were designed to enclose those who entered them and keep the user eternal and ageless until a time when the Stable could once again be opened to what would have to be a purified, inhabitable world. At the appropriate time, be it in decades or centuries, the ascended could awake after an apparently unlimited span of enclosure being kept the same age and in the same mental and physical state as when they entered them. It would be like going to sleep and having the most beautiful dreams you could imagine for an amount of time that would feel exponentially shorter than it was in reality, then awaking to a rejuvenated Equestria.

He called the devices ‘Stasis Pods’ and said there were hundreds upon hundreds awaiting the best of our generation and every Stable generation to come, so that when the time arrived and the steel door of the Stable rolled open to a new Equestria, it could be repopulated with only the purest of heart and most enlightened of souls. He put a damper on the exited mood by reminding us that to reach the threshold of immediate ascension before retirement was nearly undoable and even at retirement your score would have to be very good to avoid the fate of neutrality. Despite the challenge I had never before seen a room of ponies so excited, and so excited to be good and avoid sin no less. And why not? The thought of getting life in a new world rather than death at an old age in the Stable was a fabulous idea to entertain. And I too was relishing the notion, but our attention was drawn back to the Overstallion as he announced the third and final possibility.

Damnation… it was cruel, it was unthinkable and yet it almost seemed fitting. The only kinds of people it would ever be applied to would have to be black of heart and malicious in intention, murderers, rapists, people whose will to sin was strong enough to drive them to harm their only home to the point where they were banished from it. I looked at the Karma screen on my Pip-buck, fearing its ability to judge me for the first time. There was no dial or gauge visible, the screen held no accessible information about your karmic level until it was accessed by way of the Overstallion’s terminal. And for that you needed authorization from him and the head of the Commissary. To the user, the owner, it did nothing but remind them that they were being scored on who they were, to the most basic degree of their worth as as a pony, and one day that score would determine their very destiny. It was nothing if not effective as even though I hadn’t intention to do anything wrong, I feared it. The grinning buck waving from the screen, served simply to remind you that he would always be there, judging you.

The Overstallion had encouraged us from day one in the Stable to record as many logs as we could of stories and experiences from the world of the past, they are arranged chronologically and I can see some people have written as far back as a two decades before Nightmare Moon returned, that must have been Boulder, he would have been a young colt at the time but he must still has stories to share of those days.

In any case the Overstaillon added in his announcement today that unless we felt like continuing these logs as a diary for ourselves we could stop writing them, the public database will remain open for submissions for a while but I think I will make this my last public log. If I had to leave anything for the next few generations to read I feel my little stories of growing up in the Plains will be more than enough to help you learn a little about what the world was like before the megaspells. If you’re looking for material that’s pre-war then Boulder has shared plenty of the stories of his youth and I would recommend those. Good Reading fellow stable citizen, I commend you on your interest in the past.
Maybe if were both lucky, I’ll see you when the doors open, in the new Equestria.

-Autumn Blossom

------------------- ---------- -------------------

I had to wonder if Autumn Blossom could be down there, sleeping through the stasis, waiting as the time flew by at the unnatural speeds it seemed to while you were asleep. I had never felt a great urge to achieve ascension, in fact, I had seen several ponies turn it down, in favor of spending their remaining years or decades in the company of the family they had reared and the friends they had made. It would undoubtedly by odd waking up in a world full of strangers from varying generations of the countless decades, but the outside world reinhabited did sound appealing.

I had had nights were eight hours of sleep had felt like nothing more than the blink of an eye, where lying down and closing your eyes was all it took to transport you forward in time. The stasis pods were almost like a form of time-travel, what made the decision to accept ascension difficult was that there was no way to go back. You had to make the commitment to never see most of the people you knew again; maybe that’s why the pods weren’t full yet. I knew for a fact more ponies had died here than had been ascended. Comparatively, very few had been damned.

It was interesting to read the opinions of someone who had experienced both the outside world of war-time Equestria and the Stable’s hyper-security. I made a note to check out Boulders logs about life in the Stable, he had lived long before the war had even begun and the stories from his childhood had been almost disturbingly simple and peaceful; Serene and calm, a pure Equestria. I imagined he would have the greatest insight on the contrast between times of peace and war along with time in the Stable.

Now, however, it was late afternoon and I decided I would go talk to the medical mares until dinner, unless they were somehow still busy. After reading the log I was interested to know how unhealthy somepony had to be to be denied ascension, and if this was a possibility for Saber.

I had never really met or conversed with the current head of the Commissary but I would sympathize with anypony who was denied the use of one the stasis pods because they were diagnosed with a case of being very nearly dead. I had to admire his commitment to work through his ailments; he was a visibly frail looking old buck with a mane that had faded to a pale grey over the years. Even his coat was a greyer blue than it once was, but I supposed he didn’t need to be physically spry to be good at his job. His cutie mark was an elaborate scroll or doctrine and from what I had heard from the Overmare he was a good buck to work with, if a little stubborn in his determination to keep the Stable safe and regulated. I wondered what possible disagreements they could have had surrounding the Stable’s safety, maybe I would ask Shad- the Overmare later.

I had to take the staircase down to the Stable’s middle level (not considering the mysteriously placed floor designated for the stasis pods) to get from my room to the medical wing. I liked the middle floor the most out of all of them and sometimes wished my room was here, it was where I spent most of my time, after all. This floor, not my room…Actually yes, my room too. Every floor seemed to have a different feel, a unique personality that reflected on the ponies who occupied it.

The upper floor was cold and serious; it was always the cleanest and got the least traffic as the only real communal area was the atrium. It was designed and maintained professionally, almost compulsively. The reason I had picked up the task of delivering messages to the overmare was that I was probably the pony who travelled between the middle and upper floor the most as I scampered to and from my room all day. Located up here was the main Atrium, the Ascension Elevator, the Air lock and the Stable Door as well as all the administrative offices and residences. Security was also technically located here but it was unclear where Security ended and the Commissary began, as they effectively ran it in its entirety. The commissary was simultaneously small and large. Small in its number of employees but large in terms of what they controlled.

The middle floor was the most varied in its purpose; located here was the lower Atrium, Medical Wing, Cafeteria, classrooms and a large expanse of residential areas which housed most of the ponies in the Stable. Each section had its own feel to it, medical was clean and orderly, the lower atrium, cafeteria and the residential areas were very sociable and buzzing with activity while the Classrooms had a cute, childlike innocence. The children had been allowed to draw on the steel walls of their hallways in crayon and a mural of sorts had developed. Sometimes I could find a drawing I had done in the medley of colorful scribbles. It was my attempt at the sun, which I had seen in some picture books. It was a bright yellow circle with triangles alongside its circumference. It was simple, but nostalgic, and I liked to stop by sometimes and try to find it in the ever growing mural.

The lowest floor was the grittiest and ironically looked like it was the least well maintained, though the ponies working in maintenance all lived here. Every other door had some chugging device behind it that was probably purifying water or recycling food and waste. Food or waste, hopefully these two were processed separately from each other. The walls were rusty and scratched. It was the most sociable within itself compared to the other floors, the maintenance ponies always had some game of cards running or were hanging out together in the hallways. I rarely found myself down there in my usual routine. However once there had been an accident with the steam gauges and a couple of mares had gotten severe burns on their bodies due to an amassment of pressure in one of the pipes, leading to a rapid leak. I had been helping in the medical clinic at the time and tagged along to try and assist when Cross was called down to help. The worst injury I had ever seen was the freshly mutilated face of one of the victims. The mares had survived, but one now had permanent disfiguration on most of her face which, while noticeable, was not nearly as bad as before the doc had patched her up.

The same doc who may well still be out of office, I quickly realized as I entered the medical wing. Though to call it a wing was an exaggeration, it was really just a room which was about the size of the atrium but with a much lower ceiling. The desks of both the Doctor and the nurse sat on opposite sides of the room to my left and right respectively. The walls were lined with beds, each separated from one another by a curtain. There were about twelve in total and I had never seen even half of them full at the same time. At the back of the room was the locked door to storage which was filled with a, seemingly endless, wide array of drugs and supplies. I had spent a lot of time in this room, not only as a volunteer but as a visitor: In countless hours curled up next to my dying mother on the bed just adjacent to the doctor’s desk, my legs tucked under my blank flank as I waited for her to get better. My time here as a filly was probably what had inspired Cross to take me under her metaphorical wing as a part-time apprentice. She had not only allowed me to devote some of my time to her but she had taken some of her own free time to teach me a few medical spells.

The room looked exactly as it had this morning, down to Nurse Clearheart scribbling at the paperwork on her desk. The only change was the stack on her desk had shifted to the right leaving only one or two papers where it had once stood.

“How are you still busy with that?” I asked the nurse sympathetically.

“There are some surprisingly serious implications if I mess this up. Think of this as an example...” I felt more like I was talking to the now hovering quill again as her eyes stayed locked on the sheet before her.

“Say Saber was to O.D on the drugs we’re prescribing him, what proof is there that he messed up and took more than he was dosed over the possibility that we intentionally slipped him the wrong stuff?” She looked up at me and continued.
“We couldn’t run any sort of tox-screen to analyze what was in his system because we’d be the primary suspects of a murder investigations, and anything we claimed would be dismissed as a lie.”

“So fudging up this paper-work could lead to a pretty serious change in lifestyle for you two.” I concluded for her. “I take it you’re not the outdoorsy type.”

“Not after the outdoors got cooked I’m not.” She lifted the page she was working on and placed it on top of the stack with her mouth while simultaneously using her magic to shift the last sheet in front of her.
“ Stick around for a minute if you’ve got the time Grace. I could use your help when I’m done.”

“Sure thing.” I slumped into one of the chairs by the door. They were there in lieu of a waiting room, not that there had ever been any sort of queue here as far as I could remember. I levitated a random magazine out from the stack nearby. The only written material that had ever been produced in the Stable was all created and stored on the terminals; however the magazines had all been published very long ago, outside of the Stable. ‘Future Weapons Today’ I imagined the time frame that title had applied to was now severely out of sync. I had, of course, read this magazine before, along with every other magazine here, but it was admittedly one of my favorites so I paged through looking at the pictures.

There were guns in the Stable, the Commissary held on to most of them, though one hadn’t been fired in the entirety of what I knew of the sanctuary’s history. Those guns were standard fare though, insert bullet, create explosive pressure, bullet leaves, receive shell and defeated opponent, nothing fancy. However I found the energy weapons displayed in this magazine to be a lot more interesting than the actual physical examples of weaponry that the Commissary had.

I always had an irrational little desire In the back of my mind to try out a tri-beam laser rifle. I had even tried to construct one of my own as a filly. My personal tri-beam had been fully powered by imagination and went Pew-Pew whenever it fired its triplicate of invisible rays for zero damage per second. More accurately I went Pew-Pew as I levitated it around and defended the Stable from the looming threat of nopony in particular. It was essentially a series of small cardboard boxes and discarded mechanical parts from maintenance taped and glued together around half a broom-stick. Just as the schematics I had drawn up in the most intimidating shade of crayon I could find had indicated.

The tri-beam laser rifle in the magazine, which also looked a little more impressive, claimed to do 75 damage per shot.
75 out of what? Despite my confusion over the numerical scores this weapon boasted I had always admired it. I even kept the schematics for the scrappily home-made version in my room.

“Done!” Clearheart exclaimed excitedly as she floated the last piece of paper to the top of the stack. ”That was the most paper-work I’ve had to do in years!”

I put the magazine back and sauntered over to the Nurse’s desk.
“I understand the consequences of messing these up, but surely the process is not always this grueling.”
Clearheart was very obviously relieved and exhausted at the same time as a result of her day’s workload.

“No, like I said it’s a Special Case, unusual scenario. Firstly were dealing with one of the higher-ups here, one of the higher-ups within the higher-ups no less, and secondly the stubborn old bastard is making it very difficult to follow proper procedure. I can respect his commitment but he is almost completely at odds with the idea of accepting any form of help and won’t let anyone else take care of him. His unfaltering and frankly idiotic devotion to his position is part of the problem anyway; the buck simply works too hard!”

“It’s difficult to understand considering we barely even know what he’s doing. Sometimes I think he has to deal with more issues than the Overmare does. That’s the way it seems at least.”

“He wouldn’t have it any other way. And I’m sure whatever he’s so stressed about is for the betterment and protection of the Stable, in his mind. I personally think he’s just struggling to come to terms with the fact that, ascension or not, he’s retiring and any kind of control he has now is passing into somepony else’s hooves.” Clearheart expertly divided the now completed stack of paperwork into two piles.

“I hardly know the buck and I can tell he’s a control freak, I bet he’s sure that the Stable’s going to go spiraling into chaos as soon as he’s out of the picture. Though I honestly think we’ll barely notice the change in management; it’s never seemed to have much of an impact before.” I moved closer and let the nurse strap a saddlebag onto me. She then proceeded to put one of the stacks of paper inside it.
“So what do you need me to do with this?” I finally felt like I was achieving something today and was excited to get started.

“Well half these papers need to go to Cross and Saber for their signatures and admissions of compliance.” She put the other pile into her own saddlebag. “That’s where I’m headed now. So what I need you to do is take your half to the Overmare, she’ll know what to do with them, so just wait till she’s done and then bring them back and put them in my drawer if I’m still out.”

“Good luck out there Clearheart; I’ll see you on the other side.” I gave her a salute and prepared to charge off unto the breach once more. I would plunge into the fluorescent darkness to ensure the fair maiden’s bureaucracy arrived at its destination, I knew full well this mission could be my last but justice must be delivered for my Princess and my honor! For Equestria!
“I exist to push paperwork and chew bubblegum! And I’m all out of gum! I will not fail you Clearheart!”

“ I hate to say this Grace but you need to get a job.”

“Just have your heaving bosom ready for my return maiden!” I knew I was really going to wish I hadn’t said that later on, but now was not the time for regret: I had a menial task to do!

I bounded out of the door, not because I was in any sort of hurry but because I didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout of my last statement just yet. At least I hadn’t said anything about her flanks.

I couldn’t help but get a little over-excited, this was the first thing I had done that held any sort of importance in a long while. Sure Clearheart could have gone to the Overmare right after she went to Cross and Saber but that would have left the clinic unattended for twice as long! And there were lives at stake! Not right now in reality… but hypothetically there were!

My excitement ebbed as I turned the monotonously gray corners one after the other, with brief stretches of monotonously gray hallway in between. I went from an abrasive adventurer on a glorious quest to a slightly enthused delivery-mare who was just happy to have the work by the time I got to my destination.

The Overmare’s office looked over the main atrium but was still technically part of the same upper level that my room was part of, although it was most likely above it somewhere. The atrium determined what constituted the upper level and it was two stories high so the ‘level’ was made up of two floors in reality. I buzzed the Stable-equivalent of a doorbell and waited for the response.

“Who is it?” The smooth voice of Shady Sands, our newly elected Overmare, came through the completely unnecessary receiver. I could hear both her actual voice and its tinny counterpart through the door and the intercom respectively.

“It’s Grace; I have some paperwork from medical that needs a good signing.” The door slid open and I stepped into the circular room, opening my saddlebag and pulling out the documents with my telekinesis as I went. The Overmare looked flustered, not by my arrival but from what I had gathered must be a heated political atmosphere due to what I had heard about Saber’s behavior.

Shady was a tan colored mare with a dark-brown mane and tail, both braided into dreadlocks. Her cutie-mark was a large red star embellished with darker shades of red forming its outline, she had eyes which were a rich hazel but now looked slightly bloodshot and weary. I almost felt sorry for bringing her more work to deal with and hoped that whatever she needed to do with these papers would be over quickly and with minimal effort, for her sake.
“ You look…tired, are you feeling alright?” I asked as I lay the stack of sheets in front of her, upside down. She quickly remedied this with her freaky earth-pony dexterity lifting the sheets, somehow all together, and flipping them over back onto her desk. Maintaining this dexterity she picked up (!?) a pen and began to sign the documents, skimming each one with impressive speed before doing so.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, politics are…strange. It takes some time to get used to them. Out of everypony running this place I’m the one with both the most power and the least experience and it’s apparent the commissary is having trouble overlooking that.” I could tell she wasn’t telling me her feelings about the commissary in full, probably out of respect for maintaining civility.

“It seems to me that something big is going on. Is it just Saber’s retirement or is there something else?”
I had to stop having conversations with ponies while they went through paperwork, the minimal eye contact and resultant feeling that I was being a nuisance made it very awkward.

She looked at me like she had just realized I was there, when I had entered she hadn’t paid me much attention and had gone straight from what she was working to the documents from the medical clinic. Now she seemed to be appraising me, I could almost hear her mind at work.
“I…I’m sorry Grace I didn’t really register that it was you at first.” She put down (!?) the pen and stepped out from behind her oval-shaped desk to walk up to me.

“Oh no that’s alright, you don’t have to get up for me, I’m happy to…help. I was told to just wait for you to finish the documents and bring them back to Nurse Clearheart; I didn’t mean to interrupt Sha-…Ma’am.” Forget what I said: this was way more awkward, I had forgotten how much I disliked eye contact. Especially when it was with the Overmare!

“Relax Grace, you know me I can’t just expect you to sit there and put up with my poor manners. And besides there’s something I needed to talk to you about anyway.” She motioned for the couch against the wall to my right. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Alright, sorry Shady, I just couldn’t help but feel like I was getting in your way. You seem awfully busy.” I took a seat on the cushy couch as she gracefully swung herself onto the other end.

“It’s no bother, in fact; you saved me time by coming straight to me. I was planning to talk to you at breakfast tomorrow, but I suppose a giving you a little notice for what I’m going to ask might be better.” She was speaking to me as if she legitimately needed my help, as me, not as a courier or an extra pair of hooves and horn to pass tools to the ponies doing the actual work. The feeling was odd.

“What could you possibly need my help with?” I was legitimately perplexed.

“Don’t sell yourself short Grace, if you’re willing to help me then you could play an important role in future of the Stable. And I know that you are more than competent. However I need you to see that too, otherwise you might as well not be.” She left the statement open ended, as if to let me decide whether I truly believed I was capable of anything more than odd jobs and volunteer work.

“Not that I don’t hold a healthy opinion of myself…” I lied? “It’s just that I can’t really see how I could possibly help you with anything you’re currently involved with. Maybe I’m just making assumptions here but whatever the case is I am always willing to help out when I can, so if you need anything, I’m up for it.”

“Thank you, but don’t sign on to support me with everything just yet, I expect you to decide that tomorrow. For now all I ask is that you attend a meeting between me and the Commissary, Saber included, if Cross thinks he’s up for it.” She seemed pleased by my willingness to help and even more pleased at the possibility that Saber might not be allowed to attend the meeting despite his own willingness.

“A meeting? What’s it about?” When did I become somepony who got invited to meetings?

“Change.” She had a genuinely excited grin on her face as she almost purred out the word.
“Let me be frank and say that you are unique, as you are probably the most un-biased inhabitant of this Stable. I need somepony who will listen to what I am proposing, not as a member of the Commissary or the Faith but as a free-thinking individual, a pony. You can think only for yourself and for the Stable, and that’s exactly the kind of perspective I’ll need to convince these traditionalists that we need to make some big changes around here.”

“Can’t you just go ahead and ignore their protests? I thought they were just advisors; surely they can’t actually force you to submit to their disagreements.” Stopping a dictator was one thing but preventing the overmare from making any changes seemed like a privilege the commissary shouldn’t have.

“I would rather do this diplomatically. The transition I’m planning needs a coherent structure of leadership; I would rather have them on my side for this, so I have to convince them first, I have to at least try. And besides I need to know that what I’m doing is the right thing, I need to see if somepony will agree with me because so far I’ve faced nothing but opposition.” She sighed indicating that she had faced a lot of obstacles in this and now wanted nothing more than to be justified and honestly affirmed for once.
“What I’m proposing is just that, a proposal, the commissary needs to see how one member of the public will take it, before they can agree to me suggesting it to the rest of them. With all these factional allegiances and the way ponies seem to care more about what’s good for their beliefs rather than what’s good for themselves, you’re the only pony I trust to think rationally for once, to think about what’s good for us, for the Stable, rather than for the Commissary or those religious zealots.”

“I see the factional allegiance thing applies to you as well.” I teased, I didn’t mind her attitude towards the Faith but felt I needed to clarify that she saw the hypocrisy.

“Yes, I suppose it does, but the fact that you aren’t offended is a testament to the validity of what I’m saying, you can see why it has to be you.” She seemed to think that there was a chance that I wouldn’t want to be involved.

“Like I said, I’m up for it, just tell me where I need to be and what time I need to be there.”

“Thank you Grace, I hope you’ll see things my way but if not then please be honest, this may alter the future of the Stable very directly and I need to know if I really am in the wrong.” She put her hooves around me and gave me a weak embrace before pulling away, sliding off the couch then making her way back around her desk and slumping down in her chair. Despite the glimmering sparks of excitement I had just seen in her eyes, she still looked very tired and I hated the fact that, from what I had seen of the previous overmare, this is how she would most likely be for as long as she sat behind that desk. I hoped that, whatever happened tomorrow, I could help her somehow.
“The meeting is at nine, you’ll have plenty of time to go to breakfast, shower and get dressed. And it is being held in the conference room… it’s the door down the hall from this office, on the right.”
I nodded to her and started to get up before I remembered the reason I had come here.

“Shady…” I saw that she was already busy with the pen back in her hoof.

“Don’t worry, just give me a minute or two and I’ll have these ready to go.” She flicked through the pages at surprising speed and I felt a little sorry for Clearheart. She had spent the entire day making those reports air-tight even though it wouldn’t really matter unless Saber died as a result of the medication they had given him. The documents took a lot less time to sign than they did to write. I didn’t even bother looking for something to read as the Overmare rapidly stacked the sheets onto either one of the two piles she was making. She worked with almost as much finesse as Clearheart despite her lack of magic and was done in easily under a minute. I walked over to the desk and opened my saddlebag.

“Thank you again Grace, for the delivery and for tomorrow, I really appreciate the help.” She slid about half of the papers into my bag and the other half into her filing cabinet.

“No problem, I can tell that you have a lot on your plate here and if you ever need anything, please ask.”

“Sure thing, just have a good night.” She gave another weak smile and waved her hoof. I waved back and turned to leave trying my best to stay calm. I was violently battling with myself to restrain my excitement.

This was huge! All in the same day I had helped the medical team that kept the people of this Stable healthy ensure that they weren’t culpable in a murder case and been asked for help by the Overmare!
I felt validated, relevant, and even important! This was the first time in a long time that I had any sort of obligation or responsibility and I was relishing it! Despite my efforts to internalize these emotions and repress any sort of outburst like at the clinic again, I couldn’t help but walk with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. My mind was mulling over the information with such focus that I barely registered the entire journey to the middle level, it had become so routine to me that I could do it on instinct, and in what seemed like no time at all I had arrived at my destination.

Both of the medical mares were still out, which was surprising considering the extra time I must have taken talking to the Overmare, so I placed the documents into Clearheart’s desk as she had instructed. I was actually a little relieved that she and her bosom weren’t around.

Unlike my last boost of excitement on receiving the courier task, that must obviously now be non-existent considering the job was finished, my excitement for tomorrow was not fading and I bounced back to my room with just as much energy and spirit as when I had left the Overmare’s office. It was going to be a big day, possibly my biggest day, and the anticipation would have been unbearable if I didn’t welcome the feeling of having it so much. I was intent on skipping dinner again as I paced my room willing time to pass, as it was. It wouldn’t go any faster though, the Jerk. I could hear the doors outside sliding open and closed as the other occupants of my hallway headed out to the cafeteria. I had planned on skipping dinner but had been unaware that I was actively doing so now; I thought it was still only late afternoon. I checked my Pip-buck to confirm that it was really that late already. It was! Joy! Only a few more hours until I had somewhere to be, somewhere that people were counting on me to be! I wanted to sleep just so I could get to morning faster.

It was like hearth’s warming eve back when I was a little filly. And, appropriately, it was almost hearth’s warming eve; the Confessor had already started to talk about its proximity. The Faith of course had their own interpretation of the holiday, or as they liked to say the ‘holy day’, typical princess insertion in a normally princess-less story. They really seemed a little self-depreciating in their insistence that ponies were almost completely incompetent before the ‘Goddesses’ enlightened them. Conveniently the ‘Goddesses’ always seemed to be uninvolved whenever something bad happened i.e. the Great War, which they had spearheaded according to my sources. I still wasn’t sure whose idea the balefire bombs had been though, hopefully I would get to that part. Or rather a log of someone explaining that part that wasn’t an incomprehensible mish-mash of ‘corrupted data’ and other information rendered completely out of context.

Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep, last night I had gone to bed a couple of hours later than this so it was understandable, even without my considerable excitement keeping me awake. I decided that rather than do all those brain-calming exercises where I took deep breaths and counted down from one hundred I would simply think until I was too tired to do anything but sleep. I began to speculate about what the Overmare could have planned but abandoned that train of thought so it would be a complete surprise. I tried to think about how I would know how to make the right decision, but that was hard since I had no idea what the decision would be. What could it be? No you fool, you’ll ruin the surprise!
Somewhere amidst all the internal debate and sampling, followed by the subsequent dismissal of all potential courses for my train of thought, I ended up falling asleep. Effective!

-----------------------------------------------

I awoke the next morning, to thankfully find myself feeling a little less giddy, in fact, I was nervous. The untamable excitement that had stemmed from the reality of being a part of something had subsided a little, to be replaced by the fear of responsibility that stemmed from the same reality. I wasn’t going to go into that meeting acting like an excitable filly on the day of her favorite holiday, I was going to go like the trained professional that I wasn’t! So, like a true professional, I decided I needed to wear clothes. With my white Stable jumpsuit, not like I had a choice, swung over my back I made my way to the showers. Today was a big day, a day for soap and thorough grooming!

Back at my room I stood to be judged in front of my tall wall mirror. The Jumpsuit was neat and pressed as a result of my rare usage of it and my coat and mane looked almost silky, still messy though. Subscribing to the very stupid and naïve belief that so many ponies fall victim to I figured I could trim my own mane. Luckily for me, it went alright. I didn’t do anything to drastic I just cut back the hair that hung over my face a little, until it hung over my forehead. My mane was still a little jagged and choppy but chopping at it wasn’t going to help that. I swept up the brown locks from the floor of my room; with magic of course, as I couldn’t operate a broom unless it was one of the components of my ramshackle tri-beam laser rifle. I didn’t think I looked particularly good, but I certainly looked less like an unemployed scamp and more like a voice for the people than I had before. Considering the way I stood up my dinner last night I figured I owed it to food, and to my starving body, to make an appearance at breakfast.

For once I walked through the halls with a steady flow of ponies around me, we were all important ponies with places to be, so of course we had a schedule to stick to, and there would be no dawdling in this Stable! It felt odd after so many days of missing meals or arriving late to sit in the now almost full cafeteria. The meal wasn’t even trying to pass off as oatmeal; the ambitious Cinnamon Chips had made a bold attempt at porridge this time. I had to give the buck credit for making the paste taste slightly and sometimes dramatically different for every meal. Even though it looked similar, this had its own flavors and even texture compared to the usual oatmeal. He wasn’t the only employee in the Stable’s food industry obviously but I knew he made the most effort towards any kind of innovation or variation.

Leaving the cafeteria, I realized that I hadn’t seen the Overmare at any meals in quite some time. Her over-work was even more of a schedule changer than my under-work; while I usually ate late she must tend to eat early, as in midday the day before when she allowed herself to take a break long enough to smoke a cigarette and scarf down a small snack in between exhales and inhales for the sole purpose of avoiding starvation. Despite looking wearier Shady Sands had started to look skinnier too, it was almost as if she was wasting away, eroded by the politics and politicians she had to deal with day in and day out.
I really hoped things went her way today. Though I wasn’t going to let my sympathy compromise my decision, I still really hoped she hadn’t wasted all this time and effort on a completely lost cause.

It was time. I stood outside the conference room door. ‘Conference Room’ it proudly boasted on a yellow sign above its frame. The door slid open, it wasn’t manually operated when locked like the Overmare’s and opened simply because I was standing there. I nearly let out a little whinny in fear as I looked around the room, if any kind of welcome was being attempted it was failing, badly. In public the ponies who constituted the commissary were basically the regular populous of the Stable, they seemed no more intimidating than members of the Faith were. But while the Confessor was warm and approachable the ponies of the Commissary, as the administration it was, seemed cold and serious.

Everypony around the table wore suits, actual suits. I had of course seen this before but when those suits clad several ponies seated around a conference table all staring at you with visible disdain in their expressions then you could be excused for trembling like a peaking kettle. I was actually afraid, even the Overmare sat dressed in her own jumpsuit as well as a brown vest with a serious expression on her face. It felt like I was interrupting an argument, which was a very likely notion. As I nodded my head in an unreturned greeting and made my way to an empty chair while they all looked on in silence, the Overmare broke the silence.

“I thank you for being here Grace.” A nearby mare typed furiously on a terminal in dictation. Seriously?

“Now,” she began to stand “May I begin?” her tone was formal and brisk. The mare resumed typing.

“If you would not mind allowing us a few questions for our guest, we would like to know why she is here.” I noticed Saber out of the blur of suits and contempt as he spoke.

“To what end? She is the ideal pony to gauge a reaction from, I’ve explained this already.” The Overmare was clearly sick of waiting but she barely broke the feigned air of civility in the room.

“We would like to see if she agrees with your assessment of her; see where she thinks she stands.”
His words dripped with condescending under-tones.
“It will not take long if you truly judged her correctly.”

“I don’t see the point…but proceed if you must. This is all for your approval after all.” Even though her reply applied to all the suited ponies sitting around the table she seemed to be talking to Saber very specifically. He was the face of the opposition she faced, after all.

“Thank you Ms. Sands,” his gaze turned to me, followed by everypony else’s. I almost couldn’t meet his icy blue eyes across the table. I hoped my uncontrollable trembling wasn’t noticeable.
“Grace is it?” he didn’t pause for an answer. “Tell me what you believe.”

“Saber, how is this relevant?” The Overmare gave me a worried look as she interrupted our blossoming exchange and drew his eyes back to her for a moment.

“Overmare, if you want our cooperation you will let us know what we need to know.”

“It doesn’t matter what she believes in or where her allegiances lie, all that matters is that she is a citizen of this stable and will have its best interest at heart! This is a test for how the Stable will react to my decision and you said you would accept one subject, her she is, straight from the Stable! You believe I am wrong… I believe I am right. We need to find out what the Stable will believe and these are the means we agreed on. She has no idea what’s going on, so for our purposes she has no option but to be un-biased, so let’s get on with it!.” The civility was quickly giving way to hostility. It seemed the Overmare hadn’t flaunted my ideal neutrality to Saber as she had to me, I was sure he knew though, everypony else in the Stable was aware of my non-commitment to either side. I suppose he was using the potential questions as a stall to break the Overmare’s resolve further, and it was working.

“May I say something,” both their eyes swung rapidly to me as I almost whispered out the words, which I immediately regretted as everypony else’s followed yet again.

“No,” said Saber, The second in command

“Yes,” said the Overmare, The first.

I collected my thoughts and tried to reign in my rapidly beating heart. It was time to step up and tell them what I really thought, and hopefully reassure them that I could do this. I imagined that I was alone, that all the eyes on me were not really there. I let the failures of my past well up inside me to fuel the drive to succeed at something, I let my insecurities step up to be beaten back as I tried to prove myself.

“I am here because the Overmare chose me, she didn’t do so because she thinks I am more likely to side with her in this, she did so because she is desperate for an honest response. I understand that it is the Commissary’s job to oppose a decision they feel is counter-productive to the Stable’s safety, security or well-being but you’re unflinching commitment to do so with no willingness to really listen to the Overmare’s argument has caused her to doubt herself. And the last thing the Stable needs is a divided structure of governance led by a leader who doesn’t believe in her decisions simply because the ponies she works with won’t give her a chance. The Overmare is elected based on the belief that she will do the right thing for the Stable with her absolute power. Your job was to elect her according to this ideal and you did, so you must be willing to hear her out. Though I can see that at this point that that won’t be possible, so what you really need now is an intermediary. I can be that intermediary. I swear to listen and respond to the proposal with complete honesty and with my own opinion on whether it is one the Stable is ready for, or even needs to hear at all.” I met Saber’s glare dead on even though I really felt like cowering from its cold blue judgment.

His physical ailments were easy to forget as his eyes looked no less young and powerful as they ever had. Here was a buck who had put off retirement for almost fifteen years at the risk of death before ascension, fifteen years that he could have most likely been living through centuries from now in a rejuvenated world. He lived for this job and lived for this Stable, his intentions were honest but he was stubborn in his ways. Experience and confidence were the cause for that, and I had to try and make him see past them, to open his mind just a little for Shady Sand’s sake.
“If you let me do this, I’ll do it right.” I closed and awaited their response.
The Overmare gave me a quick smile of approval before she turned her gaze to Saber.
He too was smiling, though it was sickly… scorning and cold compared to Shady’s warm regard.

“You understand things better than I gave you credit for. I yield that you will most certainly generate an intelligently thought-out opinion. You may even be capable of making the right decision in your response. Whether you accurately determine what is best for the Stable remains to be seen, but I have no more objections to you trying. As long as you agree that if you see the truth as we see it, you will convince the Overmare not to go ahead with her plans despite our agreement, as I suspect she fully intends to do” He gave the Overmare a knowing look that she hurriedly evaded, indicating that the assumption he had made was very close to the truth.

I had no problem with agreeing to those terms. If I really believed whatever the Overmare proposed would be detrimental to the Stable I would try to convince her to honor her promise not to go through with it. She might even listen to me, as she was almost completely relying on my opinion to validate her at this point.

“If I truly see things your way,” that would be that the Overmare is absolutely wrong without question
“I agree to try to convince her to stay true to the agreement and not propose this to the Stable.”
I said this with a conviction and finality that would hopefully indicate I was now ready to get on with this.

“That seems fair,” The Overmare nodded “I will be beginning, if there isn’t any legitimate reason that I shouldn’t.” She looked at Saber who just waved his hoof encouragingly and rotated in his chair to face the head of the table, I did the same, as did everypony else. I really hoped Saber had a suitable replacement waiting because right now the rest of the Commissary in the room seemed awfully reliant on his lead.

“Good. I present this as my final proposal and ask that you all listen and weigh the points I make fairly. This will be a lot easier to enact with your full cooperation and understanding. This is essentially what I plan to present to the Stable tomorrow, Grace willing, and would also ask you to provide any input you may have on any changes I could make to smoothen the presentation out. I know you have heard these points before but the Stable has to understand them in full the first time they hear them.”

I felt very sad for her then, she was trying her hardest to be democratic but the cold glares of the Commissary indicated that if she made the speech tomorrow she would get little help from them on its presentation. They were a unit, almost a hive-mind, if one opposed her all would. I could empathize with how reluctant she was to enact her absolute decision making power with this kind of opposition.

“The Stable is our home, our ancestors came here seeking refuge from a world on the brink of destruction and had they not then we would not be here today, it saved them from the fate that was rapidly approaching with no signs of stopping, the fate that befell the world, it saved them from death. It now houses not only the last, greatest technological advancements of a long-gone era, but the descendants of that era, the descendants of Equestria.”

She spoke with rehearsed perfection and her tone fluctuated neatly from word to word, this was carefully written and practiced. Another pang of sympathy surged through me as the faces of the ponies around me remained grave, set in stone, indicative of their intent to remain set in their beliefs.

“We were given a new way of life, a system that was designed to prevent the descent of pony-kind into violence and war, so obviously occurring around the designers, from occurring again. And now we live by this system, we reward the worthy and banish those who have harmed us, in both cases using the technological gifts we have been given by our forefathers: In one instance to grant the greatest gift and in the other to deprive somepony of them all. The first part of our mission was to live by these rules, and we have thrived by them, but this is not all we were intended to do. We are all that is left of Equestria, all that is left to restore it to its former glory and yet we still hide from it. In fact we use it as a punishment for the worst of us while simultaneously using it as a promise for the best of us. You’ve all heard this promise. Some of you strive to achieve it even now…Ascension.”

She was lost in her speech; her resolve remained solid even though she was presenting this to a room of ponies, the majority of whom had heard it all before. I was intrigued however, and awaited the reveal she was building up to.

“You know what is promised on the other side of those stasis pods, the other side of that hyper-accelerated sleep, a rejuvenated Equestria. Ascension serves as a means to accelerate forward, to a world that is growing again into what it once was, but it accelerates nowhere if we are not willing to begin this process. We were put here to save Equestria, and while we are assuredly not the only ponies left in this once great land we are the only ones with the technology and strength to save it. Out there are the descendants of those who survived the great burning, and they are all survivors even now. But we can save them. We have the means to produce food, we have the means to purify water and we have the resolve to rebuild Equestria. What I am about to suggest is no small thing, It is an idea that have contemplated and worked over for arduous weeks, but now I am sure.”

It dawned on me.

“The fallout is long over, the fires have been long dead and Equestria is waiting. Do you see nothing wrong with the fact that we call what was once our country a place for the damned!? Do you not see that despite this we also call it the place for the ascended!? It is up to us to make this change! To restore Equestria to the reward that our brothers and sisters below us have waited for! To save all who remain out in the wastes and together build a new nation, under the same glorious flag! We can show the world that Equestria is not dead, Equestria never died! It is ready to be healed and I ask you if you are ready to heal it! Some of my words may not hold weight with those of you who are of The Faith but hear this, the nation your Goddesses created can be restored, by those who truly call themselves their children! We need to redeem ourselves, whether it be to the Goddesses or not, it is a fact. And redemption awaits us.
Equestria awaits us! What I propose to you today is that we answer the call. We will go out into what will once again be known as our country and restore it. For we have the technology and the strength but I must ask you, do we have the will? Are you willing to finally complete what we were saved to do?
Are you willing to emerge from the safest place in Equestria, the only Stable ever built, to share the gift of safety and prosperity to re-create a world where it is not a question? A world where happiness was once prosperous and death was a tragedy, not a common occurrence. I am willing, but I need your help, together we are strong and together we can rise, but only together can we prevail. So I ask one final time.
Are you willing to open that door one last time, never to close it again?”

There it was. One of the commissary started applauding and to my surprise instead of being silenced he was joined by the others. I joined in and pounded my hooves together to reward her for all her struggle. As we applauded I knew it was just for show, she hadn’t convinced them, but for once they appreciated her attempts and were meeting them with a more respectful attitude. Now that I knew, I could relate to both sides of this argument. The passion and potential I had seen in Shady Sand’s speech was amazing, her points were justified and the prospect sounded incredibly appealing. However the potential for failure loomed like a shadow behind every idea, behind every possibility for success, her words reminded me that we were the last potential saviors Equestria had but also its last potential survivors.

The Overmare looked incredibly relieved, she had been pushing for this for who knows how long and to her the closure she so needed was finally approaching. Her speech was powerful, her idea was ambitious yet achievable and she now knew it was almost ready to begin. All that was left was the question of my endorsement. All that could stand between her and her vision was me. And realizing part-way through the speech what she intended I knew what I was going to say. I would wait until I was asked, when the room had calmed to its usual suspenseful silence.

Shady looked over at Saber, she had a tired but accepting expression on her face and was smiling at the old buck, not in mockery or victory but in what almost looked like friendship. The anger was gone from both their faces as their conflict was now effectively over. This was either going to go one way or the other and they were no longer in control of the nature of that eventuality. He smiled back.
“I don’t suppose some emotive wording and embellishment was enough to change your mind?” she knew the answer to her question but gave it as a peace offering, she had accepted his opinion.

“I’m sorry but I’m fairly sure we are still in agreement that this is not the right thing to do for the Stable.” He looked around at his peers for any sign of disagreement but all were ultimately unmoved.
“I know I personally appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m afraid it will fail. I sincerely hope you have seen things our way Grace, but I will not try to convince you any farther. We have adapted before as a governing body to face new changes and if you believe in the Overmare and her plan then I suppose we must do so again.”

I was glad to see that Saber had realized resisting the potentially unavoidable course of action would cause more damage than going along with it. I suppose that if the Commissary were committed to the safety of the Stable’s inhabitants then they couldn’t just sit idly by and endanger them further while these changes took place. Despite their protests and quarreling they had an authority to answer to and a duty to fulfill. This sealed the issue for me, not that I had much doubt in my mind. With the commissary reluctantly aiding her then the Overmare would lead the Stable to face whatever was out there and fulfill our inherited purpose to recreate Equestria. I was enormously relieved that the decision was clear enough for me to make quickly because the pressure of the anticipation in the room was only growing faster.

“I can tell you that both the Faith and the…” The term commissary was difficult to use in a situation where it didn’t apply to both the ponies who ran it and the ponies who followed its belief system
“…rest of the citizens will be convinced, just as I have been, by your speech. It’s a good idea and I truly believe it has been long enough for the potential for revival to have arisen out there. I think you should make that proposal to the whole Stable tomorrow and I am also fairly sure that they will be as approving of the plan as I am. You’re right Overmare.”

I don’t know what I expected her reaction to be but it wasn’t this. She looked relieved, to be sure, but not excited. Her response was calm, careful and indicated to me that this was a too serious to her to be considered a victory but rather a confirmation. She nodded slowly and looked right into my eyes.

“Give me the reason.” Her stare didn’t break as she continued.
“I know I should be doing this and I know why I think that… Why do you?”

She needed to know that my opinion had basis, that she could trust it. I obliged.
“There are ponies suffering out there, there’s not even the slightest possibility that there were no survivors. That’s how we are as a species. Equestria is still out there. It’s broken and scorched but we can fix it. We have to.”

“We can only hope that the Stable agrees. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” She said, smiling.

“I suppose you’ll want to explain the next phase of your plan to Grace, I assume she’s involved. If you don’t need us for anything then we’ll go. We’ve heard enough of it to begin preparations.” Saber spoke up and as he stood the rest of the suits followed suit. Any plan gets painfully boring after hearing it a certain number of times and judging by the Commissary’s haste to vacate the Conference Room they had easily exceeded that number in their many debates on the topic.
“All that’s left to do is prepare myself to give the speech to everypony tomorrow, so I suppose I won’t need to meet with you again until afterwards. We’ll iron out the details then, depending on how things go.”
She nodded to him, the hostility was gone but the friendliness between them had all but disappeared from that moment of Limbo. The period where neither of them had gotten their way yet, and they had no reason to fight each other as the determination of who would, was no longer in their control. He nodded back and the heads of the Commissary filed out of the room, one after the other.

“Do you think they’ll make things difficult?” I asked the mare, who was now slumped unprofessionally in her chair.

“I think they care more about the Stable than getting their way. So if the Stable is with me tomorrow then they’ll have to get on board too. If they aren’t: I assume I’ll be fired, and at least then I won’t have to worry about the Commissary again.” She almost seemed like she would prefer the latter.

“Fired? Surely they can’t fire you for suggesting an idea.”

“For an idea like this they can. It only makes sense. If people are too set in their ways to see this plan for what it could be, and instead resign themselves to the safety of complacency then they won’t want the leader who suggested it in charge anymore. I’ll happily resign if they’re that against the idea. There’s no way this is happening unless the Stable wants it to happen. And that’s the way it should be.”

“So that’ll be it then?” I was starting to question how sure I was about the Stable agreeing to this.

“No the idea will stick around. The few people who did like the sound of it would keep it in circulation. I wouldn’t be surprised if it got brought up again by the next Overmare. Or the next. Eventually someone would force it or the Stable could eventually come around and it’ll happen. It’s just better if we get started as soon as possible, I doubt things are getting much better on their own out there.”

“Well let’s hope for the best for tomorrow then. What did Saber mean by what he said before he left?”

“Ah, yes, well this should interest you. Come to my office. This’ll only take a minute.” She started out of the conference room and I followed her. I was hoping she’d look less tired after her victory but although she smiled, she still walked with an implicit weariness. When we got to her office she offered me a seat on the couch beside her once again.

“Grace, I hope you realize what an important role you just played in the coming changes. You did an excellent job in there. Not only because you made the right choice but because you did so for the right reasons. For that I commend you, you were un-biased and made a good judgment. Thank you.”

“Thank you for the opportunity ma’am. I’m just glad I saw things your way. It’s clear that you know what you’re doing, although the Commissary’s concerns aren’t baseless. This is a big risk we’re taking.” I relished my ability to use the word ‘we’re’, I was included!

“Yes and I’d like you to be part of the precautions I intend on taking. I can only tell you if this is a sure thing or not when the Stable makes its choice tomorrow, but if we’re going out there I’d like you to be involved.” Her words were friendly yet formal and I felt the excitement of continued relevance building within me. I could only speculate as to what she meant, but I had my hopes.

“Before we can commit to opening the doors permanently to the outside world we will need to assess it, see what we’re facing exactly.” She continued “We’ve never sent anypony out there who has come back, seeing as we wouldn’t have let them in. The damned are the only ponies from this Stable who know what it’s like, and considering that we basically forced them to find out, they have never returned to share that information.” She didn’t seem sorry for the ponies that the Commissary had sent out in the past; in fact she almost seemed angry at them, with good reason.
“I plan to send scouts out first, this process is no doubt going to be slow and we won’t proceed any further than scouting until we’ve done a considerable amount of reconnaissance and mapping. We may even have to abandon the whole plan if somehow it really is still uninhabitable out there. So testing the waters is an essential step.” She was leading on to something. “What do you think?”

“I would have made it a condition of my agreement if I wasn’t sure you would have already thought of it. We need all the information we can get to do this right.” I nodded. “But what do you need me for?”

“How would you like to be one of the first ones out?” She gave me a grin and took in my own, enjoying the expressed excitement that she had brought to the surface.

“That sounds fantastic! I couldn’t have asked for a better responsibility,” I was practically jumping up and down. “Count me in!” I would have been embarrassed but I was too happy to be self-conscious, I thought yesterday had been a good work day for me but now I almost had a real job!

“I’m glad to see you’re so sure, but I can’t let you sign on just like that. It’s been a busy morning and I need you to be sure you want to do this.” She was amused with my reaction and tried to control my enthusiasm back like a mother would her child’s.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Overmare, I promise! I’ve learned a lot from all the old-war resources I’ve read. I probably already know how to use a gun without shooting anyone by accident or anything!”
I was doing this; I knew for sure, no doubt in my mind. I was going to be a Scout! I didn’t have to wait until later to give her an answer. She giggled a little at my assurances.

“I have no doubt that you’re up to the challenge,” A more serious look crossed her face then. “I just really need you to think this over. It could be dangerous, anything could happen, anything could be out there. I need you to be sure. Come back to me later today and tell me if you’re still willing. I know you’re sure you are now but please, think about it.” She almost looked grim at this point. It nearly sounded like she didn’t want me to go. I guess I could humor her and ease her mind by giving her my answer later. Like I needed to think about it: I would have to be insane to pass up on an opportunity like this!

“Alright, if you’re that concerned then I’ll mull it over and give you my final answer later.” I said begrudgingly, getting off the couch as I spoke. The grim look passed and she seemed pleased again.

“Thank you, I know you want to get started now but there isn’t really anything we can do until tomorrow. No harm in taking some time to consider your options.” She reminded me.
“I’ll see you later Grace.” Again we waved at each other and I left the room to go and ‘think’.

As I walked back to my room, I wondered if the jovial spring in my step was now permanent, considering that it had endured almost all day. This is what it felt like to be so close to having a purpose. See cutie-mark? I don’t need your help to guide me through life! I gave a triumphant look to the golden symbol on my flank even though it was both inanimate and an integral part of my own being.

I almost wished that over the years I had made some friends in the Stable, or that some of the ponies here had made more effort to let me in. I had always been a little bit of an outcast, with only a few ponies treating me like an equal rather than an oddity. Even with these few I had developed what could assuredly not be called a friendship. Now I wanted someone to talk to, to share the events of my day with, but I had no one who I would discuss this kind of thing with.

Besides I’m sure the Overmare wouldn’t want me spreading the news before she got the chance to, but still it would have been nice to feel like I could’ve. I could tell myself that I didn’t need any kind of relationship with depth or intimacy but the truth was: I felt an absence inside me. I missed my mother, she had been all I had needed back then. A friend, a confidant and a parent all in one, sadly she had died before helping me realize how much I needed somepony like her.

When I got to my room I took a necklace I had kept from her and put it around my neck, as a reminder. If I ever did get to go outside I would bury it for her sake. We didn’t ask about where dead bodies ended up here, we didn’t want to know. In lieu of a burial or funeral ponies who had passed got a remembrance ceremony of sorts. Eulogies were given and stories were told, it was nice, but my mother deserved a burial, beneath real soil with a tombstone that felt the warmth of the sun. I would put one up by the buried necklace, somewhere beautiful.
If I was hoping for anything outside of the Stable, it was for beautiful places to still exist.

I promised myself that I would wait until after dinner to go see the Overmare, there was another sermon scheduled for today but I was obviously not obligated to go. Maybe if I got back in time I could drop in for the hymn, which would be the perfect way to end this day. I was feeling the same unnerving anticipation that I had felt last night, and time was trickling by at an aggravatingly slow pace. I needed a distraction. I searched my terminal for any logs that had an interesting title, they were ordered chronologically so the names were often random and unrelated to the logs adjacent. I found one that seemed worth a look entitled: The First Damnation. I opened it. It was short so I decided I would spurn my chronological reading system yet again, to indulge my curiosity.

------------------- ---------- -------------------

Log of: Crane
Year 1, Day 306

I can’t think of anything else that has happened that is as important to log as this. Just about ten months ago the Commissary, as they’ve come to be called, was founded to maintain order and protect the Stable. Along with them came the AAI system, that’s Artificial Afterlife Incorporation in case they don’t use that abbreviation anymore, which was finally demonstrated in effect just yesterday. We couldn’t have asked for a more clear-cut example. Ponies have been worrying that to follow up on the need to damn somepony once in awhile ponies who didn’t do anything too bad would be sent out, they were worried that the bar wasn’t going to be set low enough. It just got set real low though, real fucking low.

Billington snapped, the mare just lost it, she seemed so normal, even happy. I would almost feel sorry for her, but you don’t get any sympathy after you kill a filly. I thought I’d seen people fall from grace before, back when the whole world was going crazy because of the war, but this was just sick. That bitch murdered a little filly, someone else’s daughter! If this damnation system wasn’t already in place I would have seen her hang. She may as well have though, you can almost hear the world burning outside, and she’s going to get torn up by storms and fire minutes after she leaves. She deserves it for little Abellene.

Doesn’t look like they have plans to try to work in a trial system into this AAI thing, no lawyers and what-not. The Overstallion and the Commissary acted as judge and jury. Now whatever’s out there has probably already done its job as executioner. Most of it wasn’t in public; they kept Billington in a holding cell for the night and made a whole show of ‘damning’ her this morning. The judging and juring stuff wasn’t in public I mean. The Over-stallion presented all the evidence and made sure we all understood and agreed that she was guilt. But we already knew that. She just sat there, throughout his whole speech, until she broke down at the end and tried to apologize. I don’t know who she wants forgiveness from; she’s certainly not getting it from us. They gave her a few chances to speak but she had basically confessed already, she wasn’t looking to prove her innocence. She couldn’t have.

Seeing as how we already trust the Commissary to handle this sort of thing I was actually impressed by the effort they went to to make sure we were happy. They know they need to show us how this system is gonna work and they did well to get support. I’m not gonna doubt a bunch of ponies that me and my fellow citizens elected into their positions when it comes to enforcing law. People saw this bitch do it anyway, so her goose was already cooked. They put on quite a show anyway. They marched her out of here through the aisles and out the door to the airlock; they encouraged us to watch as they dragged that psycho to her doom. She didn’t scream or protest, she just cried. I would’ve liked an explanation, a reason for why she dashed a little filly’s head open against the Stable floor, but it almost looked like she didn’t know it herself.

The Overstallion gave us some reassurances and explained how he understood what we were all going through. He told us that the first few years would be the hardest but that we would need to adjust, to forget whatever we had seen out there and commit to the safety of the Stable. Maybe he wanted us to write our memoirs of the war in the terminals so we could put them someplace that wasn’t our head. He announced that in events like this the public database would be re-opened for submissions, I took that as an invitation to let all reading this know that the bitch deserved what she got. I’m going to go to Abellene’s remembrance ceremony and put thoughts of Billington behind me. It’s time for the anger to be replaced with remorse and support for that poor filly’s parents. There are no burials here, no one’s going to see her little face again, it was smashed open. If anyone knows why Billington did it… post something while the database is open, would you? I know I’d really like to find out.

------------------- ---------- -------------------

Crane had been a war contractor before entering the Stable. He had been a regular contractor but then the war picked up and basically everyone had the prefix war- added to their job title. He had written in more detail about the craziness he had seen in Equestria as it spun towards the day of the bombs and he hadn’t been lying that what Billington had done had come out the worst. I felt a little sick at the thought of her crime and scanned the nearby logs for an explanation. They were mostly dated months apart so must have corresponded with different significant events the Over-Stallion wanted them to write about. I guess no one ever figured out why she did it.

When I was done scanning through a couple of logs, finding others by both Autumn Blossom and Crane that I made a mental note to check out later, it was already time for dinner. I felt a little bad for not even trying to do what the Overmare had told me and I committed to think about my decision through my meal.

I made my way to the cafeteria but decided to stop by at the children’s mural on the way. I felt if I looked at it I would see something that Abellene had drawn. I didn’t know if the mural had even started back then. I doubted it. In any case you can’t help irrationality sometimes, so I made my way over to the classrooms. I obviously had no idea who had drawn what except for my yellow sun so I ended up just staring at the entire mural for a few minutes.
Inevitably, looking at my own scribble made me think of my childhood and I had a subsequent realization: If we were really going to open the Stable then the damnations would be over. I assumed the ascended would stay where they were until things had settled down but the punishment of damnation would become unusable. That would mean that Billington would remain the first damnation… and my father would forever be the last.

I didn’t think of him with the same disgust and anger that Crane had evidently felt towards Billington but I also wasn’t sure what he had done. Could he have also murdered a child? I vowed to find out; I wasn’t sure who would be willing to tell me though. The Overmare and most of the other ponies I knew would have been almost as young as I had been at the time. Maybe I could bring myself to talk to Saber about it one day. I headed back and rejoined the stream of ponies entering the cafeteria.

Adhering to my promise I spent the meal mulling over the Overmare’s proposal, instead of sitting uncomfortably as the nearby ponies had conversations around me. I understood the potential danger, I wasn’t ignoring the fact that I could potentially be injured or killed, but the alternative was worse. I couldn’t stay behind as, once again, my fellow Stable-dwellers moved on without me. I couldn’t watch the Scouts head out and risk their lives for the betterment of our future as I cowered behind the shield of reinforced steel that was the Stable, I couldn’t miss this opportunity to help rebuild Equestria.

I had to put the Overmare’s mind at ease though. I decided I would show her what I had learned in my years of combing over the works of literacy and guidance that filled the Stable’s terminals, magazines and books. I had studied tactics and weapons of the bygone era and felt more capable for it, as soon as I had a gun in my telekinesis I was sure I could disassemble it and reassemble it with relative ease. That is assuming that I only encountered the dozen or so weapons I had read about in Future Weapons Today or Guns and Bullets. I wouldn’t mention the limited range of my knowledge but rather the intensity of it in the fields that I had studied. I would download some of the resources into my Pip-Buck and bring some of my books to show her, it would be more impressive if I came prepared, it would show her that I had really put thought and effort into this.

After dinner, a few dozen ponies started to head to the lower Atrium for tonight’s service. I didn’t attend most services, so I didn’t feel bad for missing this one. I doubted after my convincing presentation to the Overmare was over that I would even have time to join them for the closing song.

I travelled back to my room alongside the other ponies who felt no obligation to go to the Confessor’s service. I found it interesting that in the logs I had read of the Stable so far there was no mention of the Faith. I wondered when they had originated and how they had suddenly sprung up to grow into the major constituent of the Stable they were now. I hoped I could read of more relevant events that ponies of the past had written about so I could find out more about the Stable’s history. The public database had never opened in my lifetime. I assumed that, eventually, all the ‘first-times’ had passed and been documented so there was no longer a need for more submissions.

The database was, however, still usable for reading and even downloading. I plugged my Pip-Buck into the terminal back at my room and skimmed through the list of material I had read on it. I downloaded a few books on tactical combat and survival and then started the process of downloading the logs I had read just so I could flash the impressively, or pathetically, large list to Shady Sands.

After ten minutes the empty progress bar had only filled up about a fraction of the way so I broke off the connection. I packed a couple of magazines and books of an appropriate nature into my saddlebags and tallied what I had to present in my mind. I would show her the books and terminal data to demonstrate that I would be able to achieve more on the outside than just death, as well as reassure her that I had put thought and time into this commitment. Surely after I showed her that I thought I was capable and easily determined enough, she would feel better about my desperation to take part in this plan. The Overmare would have enough to worry about without having to bother over my sorry flank out in the wastes.

As I was double-checking the data section of my Pip-Buck to make sure I didn’t need to add anything else there was a knock on my door. Most doors in the Stable didn’t have a buzzer like the Overmare’s but the knock was still enough to make me jump. I hadn’t heard one in an almost inconceivably long time and I was admittedly startled. I pressed the release button and the door slid open to reveal a light green mare with a professional air about her. I obviously knew her face but couldn’t quite recall her name and hoped she would introduce herself first.

“Grace…” Great she knew my name and I didn’t know hers, even worse. She looked me up and down.
“The Overmare would like to see you.” She looked like she was a little annoyed with having to come and collect me. I imagined she wasn’t used to doing something as trivial as this. Before I could even respond she had trotted off, apparently having had enough with being a messenger she wasn’t about to act as an escort too. At least I hadn’t needed to know her name.

This was perfect! I had taken so long to prepare that the Overmare had had to call me herself; this would be helpful in convincing her that I had thought this through. In a way I had, sure, but my opinion hadn’t wavered for a second: I was doing this.

On my way to the Overmare’s office I passed a few rooms that had their doors open while the ponies within sat, silently waiting. Even though the followers of the Commissary, who made up most of my floor, had too much pride to attend a Faith service they would try to listen in during the songs. I had been preparing my material for quite some time and I imagined the Confessor was about to wrap up his sermon and choose someone out of the crowd to pick a hymn. I couldn’t blame my neighbors for wanting to listen, the sound was always beautiful. It was a unifying experience, despite some of the listener’s attempts to stay so separate from the source.

As I walked up the staircase to the Overmare’s office I could hear the warm sound that was the unicorns beginning to play their arcane instruments and the ponies in the stalls humming along. The ventilation systems as well as the material the Stable was made of truly made the sound reach every corner of the underground safe-haven. From Security to Maintenance the music could be heard with varying degrees of audibility and from where I was I could even recognize the song by its introduction. The voices came then, they had a distant quality to them, as if all I was really hearing was their echoes rising from down below, travelling through rock and steel and recycled air to reach me. And despite their hollow ambiguous nature I could still decipher the song from the hymnal echoes. Not a hymn, it was an old opera song, and the lyrics became distorted into indiscernible sound with the music. My mind filled in the words where I knew they were supposed to be as the music played on. It was beautiful.

When I'm alone I dream of the horizon and words fail me.
There is no light in a room where there is no sun
and there is no sun if you're not here with me, with me.
From every window unfurls my heart the heart that you have won.
Into me you've poured the light,
the light that you found by the side of the road.

Time to say goodbye.
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you.
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
it's time to say goodbye.

I slowed my pace to truly take it in; I had heard the hymns reduced to their basic, sublime intonations over a distance like this before, but never this particular song. In reality it wasn’t a hymn but a memoir of a dead world, and it affected me to hear it like it was.
As I reached the Overmare’s door I found it was unlocked, yielding open before me. I was encapsulated in the music and it took me a second to realize what was wrong.

The Overmare wasn’t at her desk; I didn’t think she was there at all, until I circled the empty lectern.
Shady Sands lay slumped on the floor, her head cocked back unnaturally and her body sprawled out.
Around her head, spreading out like an aura, forming a halo with her wild braids was rich, red blood.
She was dead.

When you're far away I dream of the horizon and words fail me.
And of course I know that you're with me, with me.
You, my moon, you are with me.
My sun, you're here with me with me, with me, with me.

The voices that I was creating in my head to fill in words for the disjointed music immediately devolved from those of angels to horrible screams of torment. The beauty died and the ghosts of the emotions it had evoked replaced it, horror, fear and anger. I wished the music would stop. I tried to make my subconscious cease its screaming as it marched on with the echoing song.

Time to say goodbye.
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you.
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,

I didn’t scream and I couldn’t move, I just stared at the corpse, I tried to look into her eyes which were wide and open and empty but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the source of the blood. A gaping hole in the middle of her forehead, passing all the way through her. I could see the inside of her head, bloody and wet, blown apart by the bullet that had come burrowing through. I wanted it to stop; I wanted all my senses to shut down so I couldn’t see the gore or smell the death in the air or hear the unearthly music that induced the horrible noise in my head.

I'll revive them with you.
I'll go with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
I'll revive them with you.
I'll go with you.

You and me.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Grace is Gone Estimated time remaining: 16 Hours, 39 Minutes