When I scrambled out of my high rise apartment building, I had to squash down any flares of embarrassment about the all too frequent comments like, “Hey! What's your hurry, lady?” In the elevator, I was downright antsy as I impatiently watched the arrow gradually sink down to the first floor. Part of me wanted to curse everypony who stopped the elevator's progress by either getting on or off of it, but I squashed those flares of resentment too. It's not their fault that I'm late. Instead, I kept kicking myself for not considering the stairs an option. Normally I'd also consider leaping off a balcony and simply fly to my destination, but with my right wing injured . . .
Well, I'm fine now. Now that I made it to the trolley, I finally feel like I can relax this morning. In this city of Manehatten, the trolley is reasonably fast. After all, in this city, it gets priority with any cross traffic. The only stops it really makes is a bunch of mini stations and the grand station. The latter is where I am going because that is also where the train station is. I just need to get to one of those trains by 12:15 Pm then I'm good.
I grin as I regard the front of the trolley car and notice that it is being pulled by no less than eight strapping stallions. On the whole, a trolley isn't much different from all the other taxis in this city. The main differences are much more passengers are being pulled, this service is cheaper and even downright free for some residents such as seniors. The trolley also plunges through any cross traffic because alerts are given before the trolley even arrives. On the other hoof, the trolley also keeps stopping at specific points and that can't be negotiated where as taxi's would have delivered fewer ponies (typically one to four) to a specific spot of the city streets chosen by the passenger. So, on the whole, both methods have their pros and cons. It just so happens that one of the stops of this trolley is the main train station.
I think I have less than fifteen minutes to get to the train station. It can be done with this transportation system even if it keeps making various stops. I might as well relax as best I can.
When the trolley arrives at the next stop after the one where I got on, I notice a very faded blue senior mare step onto the trolley with a bit of assistance from the conductor. It is at that moment I glance around and notice that all the current seats of the trolley are taken. I frown when I notice this. I then look back at the old mare and see her search the rest of the trolley for an empty seat behind the thin white veil attached to the forward end of her hat which has lovely looking flowers on it. Because I'm paying attention, I notice a ghost of a frown on her face too when she also notices that no empty seats are currently available. The conductor also notices this. It's not his job to insist other passengers relinquish their seats to this old mare, but this situation clearly bothers him too. He even appears reluctant to resume the journey until this situation reaches a satisfactory conclusion.
I also notice, to my unpleasant surprise, that nopony else is paying attention to this situation. Instead they are looking about, impatiently looking at their fore ankle watches or pocket watches, reading the newspaper, or gossiping to an adjacent passenger. No pony else is aware of, let alone cares about, the plight of this old lady.
I give a lamenting sigh. This is actually pretty typical of the big city life, but I can't pretend that I don't care either. I, at the very least, noticed this situation and I'm going to do something about it if no pony else will.
“Excuse me, Ma'am,” I call out as I rise from my seat. In doing so, I draw the attention of not just the old lady, but the majority of the passengers of the trolley too, at least for a brief moment. I swallow down my embarrassment of that too then gesture to my now empty seat as I kindly invite, “You can take this seat, Ma'am.”
“Thank you, young lady!” the old mare expresses with a sudden bright smile. “How kind of you.”
To that end, the old lady makes her way to me and I even help her into my previous seat. With a brief glance at the conductor, I notice him smile at me in approval and even gives a subtle appreciative nod at me before he turns to whistle at the rest of the stallions to resume pulling the trolley cart. When they do so, there is a brief lurch of motion as the trolley resumes. To help me maintain my balance, I reach up and wrap my left forehoof on a metal ring attached to a rail on the roof that is specifically designed for this purpose.
I take a moment to observe the reaction of the rest of the passengers. Most of them immediately return their attention to whatever else interested them the most, but there is a few who also give me non-verbal signs of approval for my noble sacrifice before they, too, return their attention back to something else.
In a way, I basically do the same thing. My mind sinks back into my excitement mixed with heavy anxiety about the journey I'm about to undertake. What will we encounter when we reach the uncharted continent? Will we even get there safely across the ocean?
The entire reason this continent was undiscovered before is because a brand new navigation method has recently been developed which is dubbed a “marine chronometer”. Such a device is said to be the most accurate clocks ever developed by ponykind so far and thus a brand new technological marvel. With it, navigators can finally determine not just our latitude, but also our longitude for the first time in pony history by comparing time from one point in space. Now that it is possible to determine exactly where we are on a map as we cross the ocean, we can find our way to a rumored lost continent as well. We're making history on this journey in far more than one way.
Once we actually get to the new continent, it will be my turn to shine for the purpose I am hired for on this team. Specifically, my role in this affair will be to chart that new land, for I am a professional cartographer. It was the one profession I majored in college which also met with some approval of my parents. It seemed like a compromise between a scholastic lifestyle and hardcore adventuring. I guess, in a way, the path to adventuring never truly left my heart ever since my camping trips with my late grandfather.
This is an exciting prospect for me. Everywhere we'll go on this lost continent, we'll be the first ponies there in known history. The maps I'll make along the way will also be the first in history as well. It will pave the way for future waves of explorers. When I finish with this initial exploration, my maps will be worth a fortune for posterity value alone. Even if better maps are made later, my maps will still be known as the first to chart this brand new continent. No pony else in history will have the chance to ever break that record because there can only be one “first” in anything. First edition maps penned by me will likely become museum pieces in their own right. Now that is a very charming thought. One day a piece of work by me will become an object to inspire somepony else, just as other museum pieces have done for me. It's a full circle and the perfect ending to my first, and probably last, adventuring career. If this is also to be my last foray into the great unknown, then it is best to leave it with an everlasting and important legacy.
“Oh COME ON!” exclaims a suddenly frustrated business pony as he regards a certain direction. The way he said it draws my attention. “They have to to this now of all days? I'm already late to my business meeting.”
Feeling alarmed by his frustration, I regard the direction he is looking at then my eyes explode widely when I notice the one type of event that could possibly stall a trolley car to a grinding halt, and that is the fact that the street we have arrived at is closed for the moment because of some kind of parade. Not only is the parade itself in the way, but a large crowd of excited ponies who are here to cheer on and enjoy this rare event.
“Oh yeah! I remember!” a nearby purple mare expresses as she turns to regard her adjacent green mare passenger. “I did read in the newspaper something about this parade that was going to be held somewhere. I just forgot the location and the date for it.”
“Alright folks!” calls the conductor as he turns to face us. “End of the line for the moment unless you want to wait between twenty and forty minutes.”
“Forty minutes?!” cries the snazzy and downright arrogant-looking business pony as he suddenly stands up in a huff. “Do you know who I am, Sir, or how important it is for me to arrive at my business meeting on time? I have to be in Biston in two days time which also means I have to get to the train station in less than twenty minutes. How DARE you insinuate that any further delays are necessary.”
“Calm down, Sir,” requests the nearby purple mare to the arrogant and furious business pony. “The parade is not his fault, and there was a newspaper article about this at least two moons ago. Maybe longer.”
Red cracked eyes suddenly snap at the purple mare as the now belligerent business pony shouts, “YOU DARE ASK ME TO CALM DOWN?! YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVE NO IDEA WHOM YOU ARE DEALING WITH. I am Cream Toony, and I will NOT be talked down to by some insipid and stupid little girl who-”
A large red stallion suddenly stands up and slugs the belligerent business pony dizzy who recovers a second later but, by then, he's on the floor. The red stallion looms over the suddenly whimpering business pony as the red stallion says, “Ay! 'ow 'bout ya show a lit'ol respect for yon lit'ol lady why don'cha, ya fiery little wise crack'ah? Ain't no room on this trolley for such blatant lit'ol outbursts. That's for bloody true.”
Despite being intimidated, Cream Toony seemed like he was going to make another belligerent outburst until he noticed most of the other ponies on the trolley applaud the large red stallion. Realizing he'd have no backup if he complained, Mister Toony instead ducked his head, kept quiet, probably seething with hatred and plotting revenge later.
The conductor clears his throat in such a way that is obviously meant to gather attention. When he has it, he says, “Be that as it may, this trolley will not be continuing until the path is clear. The rest of you can do whatever it is you wish to do with that information. If you wish for refunds, I can provide it; otherwise, just hang tight and wait for the roads to clear. That, or enjoy the parade itself while we wait. There are also some good shops nearby.” He points up. “I actually know the proprietor to the local Ice Cream Parlor. I'm sure I can convince her to give us a discount while we wait for the road to clear.”
“Ooo! That sounds de-licious!” agrees a green mare as she licks her lips in anticipation.
I bolt out of the trolley.
I'm not even consciously aware how and why this is happening. All I do know is I feel desperate and am suddenly on the move. I charge on through the crowd. I charge through the streets with the parade and dodge one of the float cars. As I plunge at and through the crowd on the other side of the street, I think I hear a police whistle somewhere behind me. In desperate denial, I dismiss the police whistle. It's probably for somepony else, I force myself to be convinced of.
In the back of my mind, I am shocked livid by my actions. I've never acted anywhere near this impulsive before, but my whole career is on the line. Maybe other ponies lives too. If I'm not there to do my job . . .
I can't afford to think about that. I don't have time for that. I'm late!
Okay. New plan. Climb to the top of the tallest building around me then leap off from the top. My right wing might not be in good enough shape to give me much thrust or lift in its injured state, but maybe I can at least hold it straight while I glide through the air from a great height? Maybe? Hopefully? Oh please, oh please, oh please let this desperate gamble work!
Shocked but committed, I leap up and grasp a ladder on the side of a tall building. Since I'm holding it, my body weight helps to pull it down. When that is accomplished, I race to climb it as fast as my limbs can. This helps me to reach a metal bar platform which leads to yet another ladder which leads up exactly one story of the building with each layer. With a quick glance up, it looks like I got twenty-four more stories to scale up to reach the top then I'm good.
On the whole, it does look like this is one of the taller buildings in the city for the moment. There are some that are higher and a few that are much higher, but this should be good enough to get me most of the way to the train station.
I have to make it!
Down below me, I hear the sound of a police whistle draw closer. This evokes a brief grunt in frustration but I continue to ignore it. I can't allow myself to realize that the whistle might be directed at me. I have to keep climbing. I have got to catch this train!
“HOLD IT, LADY!” the cop yells up frm way below me when it seems clear the whistle isn't gaining any attention. “I SAID HOLD IT!”
The cop isn't talking to me. It must be sompony else. Somepony else who just happens to also be in this area which means I need to remain alert for the criminal that this cop actually is after, but I can't allow myself to be delayed by this other criminal either.
By the time I scale up to the eighth story, however, two things become abundantly clear to me. One; this is taking too long. I need to be at the train station in just a few minutes and I'm only a third of my way to the top of this building! Two; I'm exhausted! It is taking way too much energy to maintain this pace and I simply can't do it all the way to the top. If I slow down now because I'm forced to, it will delay me even further.
There has got to be another way to do this!
Down below, I hear the cop scrambling desperately after me and . . . . Oops! I mean at some other criminal but the cop sounds winded too. With a bit of concern, I glance down at him as the heavyset cop scales up the ladder four stories below me but it is clear from his slow movements there is no way he's going to catch up.
But my glance down helps me to spot something else fortuitous. There is a clothesline hanging between this building and another. There isn't many clothes on it for the moment. That isn't important to me, though. What I see instead is a desperate chance!
I forcefully squash down the explosive panicking voice in my head that cries out, “THIS IS CRAZY!!!!” and instead leap off the rail from the eighth floor that I am on. I even use my good wing to shoot myself down faster at the clothesline. Down below, the cop sees me and freezes in stunned panic because it looks like I've just committed suicide. Instead of that, though, I get caught in the clothesline which stretches it down eighteen feet before springing back up and launching me at high speed back up. I compress myself into a tight formation in order to make myself as aerodynamic as possible.
To my pleasant surprise, my plan succeeds better than I hoped. Not only do I make it to the top floor, I exceed it by the equivalent of two more stories before I finally lose all my upward momentum and start to crest back downwards. Before that happens, I spread both of my wings as far as I can, but doing so causes me to wince in tight pain because of my pulled muscle in my right wing. I still succeed, but it is torture for me to hold it straight while all my weight collapses onto the air and I glide my way slowly downward.
But whatever. This may delay my wing from healing, but I am airborne nonetheless. I can't turn. I can't thrust myself faster. I can't achieve more lift unless I get lucky and catch an updraft, but the possibility of a downdraft exists as well. Not as likely in this city because of the way the wind tends to work as a result of the design of this city, but it can happen and I need to be careful. Odds are any altitude I lose will not be recovered later so I have to preserve it until I get to the train station. If need be, I can dive at it from there.
Something else I keep in mind is the cops have pegasi too. The one that chased . . . um . . . the other criminal clearly isn't one himself, but there are other pegasi who actually are on the force. I don't want to be conspicuous in the air and get “pulled over” during my glide. I can't afford the delay.
Besides, in my medical condition, I'm not sure if such a thing would be safe.
For a brief moment, I quell the screaming panic in my mind by absorbing the details of the sight around me as I glide through the city. I didn't often dwell on this before, but what I'm doing right now is something two-thirds of the entire pony race can't enjoy unless they ride in a pegasus chariot or hot air balloon or the like. Still, there is a simple pleasure in knowing that this flight is guided by my own wings and I could choose to fly in any direction that I want if it weren't for my wing injury. Of course I know it will heal someday and probably pretty soon. When it does, I'll regain full control over my flight in the skies.
Manehatten is a jungle of towers all around me. It's kind of pretty to see my reflection, and the rest of the city, gleam off various windows on the buildings around me. In one of them, I see a another pegasus wiping some windows clean of a building. When that pegasus notices me in the windows reflection, she turns about and gives me a pleasant wave hi with the hoof that isn't holding a dripping scraper. She's bobbing her head to music playing on her earphones too so I'm surprised she wasn't distracted enough to notice me pass by in the reflection of a window.
Anyway, I give a pleasant wave back to her as I glide past.
Brrr! It sure is cold up here. It seems likely most unicorns and earth ponies wouldn't realize how cold it tends to get as elevation increases. Logic might tell them that but that's different from actual experience.
I heard of other pegasi who develop thick hides as a result of frequent trips up into the cold sky. And, obviously, no other race tends to be as acclimated to higher climates than the pegasi, especially those who live in Cloudsdale. That city stopped nearby three years ago as this city performed its mandatory tornado duty in order to give Cloudsdale its needed reserve of rainwater. In the aftermath of that duty, I got to spend a few days in that legendary city and marvel at the sites. That was fun! I took lots of pictures at the time to help preserve the memory. I actually rode in one of the rainbow waterfalls once even though I wasn't supposed to. I keenly remember a group of pegasi crossing their forelegs across their chest, shook their heads no at me simultaneously, and gave me a harsh stare for that little stunt but I otherwise got off with a warning, probably because the foal within them secretly agreed with me.
Anyway, since my right wing is so injured, I use my left to guide me off the path of gliding into other buildings that would have been in the way, but that also guides me off the path I need. In the end, it looks like I'm not going to make it all the way to the train station. Instead of that, it seems like I'm going to land in . . . (sigh) . . . the circus. Normally I'd be all over that, but today is not a typical day for me.
Besides, technically, I land in this area illegally. I was supposed to pay at the front entrance, but this is where my glide happens to take me. Well, ultimately, that's okay. I'm about to leave anyway. I'm not here to enjoy the sights despite how much part of me kind of wants to.
Once again, I am forced to restrain the quiet and mousy librarian I normally am as I charge my way through the circus. In doing so, I dodge between the legs of a passing elephant with far more agility than I've come to expect from myself. If I had more time, I'd pat myself on the back for that little stunt followed by screaming into a pillow!
I parkour my way back and forth between two large stacks of crates in order to quickly gain some height again then launch off the top for another glide but shorter this time since the height is not nearly as high as that twenty-four story building.
As I glide along, I reflexively catch a ball to my left side that is pitched at me hard then spin around to toss the ball to my right. In doing so, I manage to hit some kind of bullseye and accidentally course-corrected the ball at its intended target. In doing so, a stunned earth pony, who was busy taunting the crowd ahead of him until a moment ago, gets dunked into a small rectangular cube of water with clear glass around it so that this splash is well visible. After I pass, there is a second of stunned silence followed by an erupting cheer.
I look back at this scene while raising a curious eyebrow and shrug as I look forward again. When I do so, I widen my eyes as I see I'm on a collision course with a young filly who is swinging a hammer down at a platform that could shoot a cork up a certain height. If it reaches the top, it could ring a bell and the filly might win a prize. Today, however, the filly is getting more than intended.
In panic, I reflexively protect my face with my forehooves. In doing so, I don't notice that I actually land directly on the hammer during its downswing. Because of that, I accidentally added more weight to the swing. As a result, this swing made by a tiny filly actually makes it all the way to the top and rings the bell. This is followed by yet another cheer but this time for a different reason. When I hear that, I peek over the edge of my forehooves to explore my local situation and finally notice what has transpired around me.
“Here you go. Here is your prize,” triumphantly declares a carny as he hooves over a large stuffed and pink fluffy unicorn doll to the filly who swung the hammer. The child's eyes widen in delight before she embraces her new prize tightly as she enthusiastically declares, “It's so fluffy!!!”
I can't believe everypony is just going along with this!
Um . . . well . . . alright then. Glad I could be of service. Now, it's time for this little pony to exit stage left.
I race on and make my way out of the circus.