"Sighting on Cherry Lane," an announcer called over the station, "Old Bon Bon's house." I slipped on my boots and buttoned my vest on, I could already see the others were doing the same. The fire station was a dreary place, solid cinder block walls, very basic appliances. A TV sat dormant in the corner, our only form of entertainment. A leaking sink dripped in a constant and steady tone, the water hitting the basin with a distinctive clunk.
Our hats rested on a rack standing next to the pole, each specially placed in their spots. They were red, a picture of a burning book printed on each one. In front of that, our designation numbers were printed, under the small words "Immolator". Mine was 401. I slipped it on, fastening the clips with my magic as I jumped down the pole.
The garage wasn't much to look at. A few extra canisters of gasoline stood in the corner of the bare room. A bright red cart was the centerpiece. Three seats - two in front, one in back - were in the cart, along with several hoses hooked up to large red tanks. On the side the words "Immolator Department 50" were written in a fading black paint. Beside that, the Firemare insignia of a burning book tried to show through the soot and hardened ashes. This truck had seen many a burning, or immolation as The Regime called it.
Behind me, the other two mares of office 50 slid down the pole and landed next to me. Lyra shook her head slightly as she ran towards the cart with the rest of us. We all knew she had feelings for Bon Bon, but business was business.
A shrill blast of noise and we were out on the streets, barreling towards Cherry Lane. The streets were empty, nopony uses them anymore. All transport is either by teleportation or vacuum tube capsules. Vacuum tube capsules are a brilliance to pony engineering. A capsule is sucked through an airtight tube, reaching its destination extremely fast.
They installed windows, but I don't know why. Everything is a blur when you're in there, it goes so fast. Besides, nopony wants to actually look at the world anymore. It's not like that's a bad thing, most of the vegitation is either wild or dead, and the pollution is sickening to look at.
With a short jerk, we stopped in front of Bon Bon's house and quickly unloaded our equipment. Three hoses were unwound, and three gasmasks were donned. We each had our pairs of hoofcuffs for arrests. We were ready.
"Alright girls," I said, pointing my hose at the house. Lyra and Trixie did too, they're faces devoid of emotion. Even Lyra maintained the Firemare standard of no emotions on the job. "Fire!"
Flames lit up the night as three streams of fire arced towards the house. Sparks flew everywhere and smoke blurred my vision as the hose in my hooves breathed flames. The house burst into flames as soon as the streams hit it, billowing smoke and ash into the air.
A shrill scream pierced the air as Bon Bon ran out of her flaming home, crying. I continued to burn the structure, unaffected by the common resistance of the troublemakers.
"Stop! Please, just stop!" Bon Bon screamed, running over to us. I looked at her from head to hoof, my eyes calculating and cold. She was lit in the orange and red dancing light of the flames, the color of her form not distinguishable. She groveled at my hooves, pleading for us to stop.
"Be quite, traitor," I kicked her in the mouth, causing her to sprawl back on the grass. I nodded to the other two and turned off my hose to deal with Bon Bon.
"What have I done to earn this?!" she cried as I cuffed her hooves together.
"You know what you've done," I said coldly, "You were caught with books. That's what."
"But that isn't a crime!" Bon Bon cried, kicking against her bonds. I prepared a gag for her meddlesome talk. "Twilight," she looked at me with pleading eyes, "You weren't like this. This isn't you. You love books, you were a librarian-" I jammed the gag in before more of the vile speech could reach my ears.
"Don't mention that word," I hissed, "I know who I am, I've been a Firemare for as long as I can remember. And don't question that. I know my own past."
Bon Bon shook her head wildly as I threw her into the back of a justice carriage and slammed the door. With a firm kick, the antonymous cart barreled towards the Justice Station. We do the burning, they do the sentencing; that's how it works.
I turned back to the burning house, shaking my head as I went. There were a lot of ponies who claimed that I was a librarian, but I knew that couldn't be true. All libraries and their owners were immolated at the turn of the regime, they didn't exist. If I was a librarian, I'd be dead.
"Shut 'um off," I shouted over the din of the crackling flames. Like a candle, the house was burning down, timbers dripping off like wax. "We got it."
The flames in the house would keep going and completely destroy it, our goal. We rolled up the hoses and jumped back in the carriage, leaving as fast as we came.
***
"I'm home, honey!" I called, slamming the door behind me. It had been a long five day shift at the fire station, and a weekend would be welcome.
"Oh, hi sweetheart," the dull voice Rainbow Dash drifted out of the TV room. I walked in to find her stationed on the couch watching a few ponies explain how they felt while chopping down trees. I never really knew why I married her, it just sort of happened.
"You don't sound so good," I rubber her mane with my hoof as I sat down next to her. The show was mind numbing, they all were.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," Rainbow said dejectedly, "I'm going to see the doctor in the morning."
"That's good, they can fix just about anything," I said happily, wrapping a hoof around my wife. "What happened while I was out?"
"Well," Rainbow started slowly, "I went to an event downtown... And Hoity Toity had his birthday on Monday... And I've watched a whole marathon of Lumber Cutters."
"Wow," I said, whistling a little, "That was exciting."
"Yeah," Rainbow blinked slowly at me, her bloodshot eyes almost screaming for help. "How was your week?"
"Well," I looked away from her screaming eyes, "We had seven burnings this week, most of them in the middle of night."
"Cool," Rainbow sighed as she turned back to the television. I couldn't get over the look in her bloodshot eyes. They were screaming, as though her mind was trapped in a prison of flesh with no escape. They looked desprate. The image of my wife's eyes never escaped my head, pulsating in my mind.
"Do you need any, help or anything?" I asked warily.
"No, I'm fine," Rainbow sighed once more, "Just tired."
"Well get some rest," I kissed her on the forehead. "I think I'll get some myself." I walked upstairs, slipping a nightgown on as I went.
***
The screaming eyes were all I could think about that night, unmistakable cries of "HELP ME!" ringing through my head. It was pitiful, and very, very scary. Randomly, I caught some sleep, only to be haunted by the screaming eyes again. They chased me, asking me to free them.
By the time the first light of dawn arrived, I was drenched in sweat. The haze from pollution made sunrise a sickening green color, spraying it everywhere. Nothing is beautiful, nothing. Art was outlawed a long time ago, and that's part of my job: maintaining the ban.
Literature corrupts. It evokes emotion, it can portray a sinister message. That's what we were told in Firemare training. Books are only possessed by the insane, those struck by Mind Sickness, as it's called. Mind Sickness is easily curable at Canterlot, where they have advanced facillities on the matter. For some reason, on sentencing sheets it always looks like 'Re-conditioning'.
I never thought about it before, but for some reason my mind started wandering into the forbidden: thought. I shook it out of my head, trotting downstairs to see what Rainbow was up to. Soft thumps were ringing out of the kitchen from behind the industrial looking gray door. I threw it open with a squeak of unoiled hinges.
"Rainbow?" I asked, walking over to a saddened Rainbow. She was slumped in a chair at the bare table, tears splattered the floor below her. Occasionally, her hoof would raise and lob an egg against the wall. I worriedly walked over to her, quickly looking away from her face.
Her eyes were screaming again. It was as though she was enduring some kind of torture just by living. "Rainbow, what's wrong?"
"Everything," she said sadly. Another egg hit the wall, the gray yoke splattering over the table. The shells crumbled to the ground, adding to a snow like pile.
"Why?" I prodded.
"This isn't the way it's supposed to be, Twilight Sparkle," Rainbow looked at me with a crazed expression on her face, a maniacal grin that sliced into my very being. I backed away. Rainbow slumped back into a depressed mass, banging her head against the table.
"What was that?" I asked, slightly scared and very worried.
"Me," Rainbow said dejectedly, "Or something; I don't know. That just keeps happening."
"We better get you to the doctor," I levitated the phone over to me, dialing in the emergency number.
"They just corrupt us further," the maniacal voice and expression was back, but only for a short time. Rainbow sighed sadly, "Yes."
The phone rang in my ear as Rainbow continued to bash her head against the table. "Hello," a cheery mechanical voice said in my ear, "We are not here right now. If you want to report literature, please press one. If you want to report crime, please press two. If you or a loved one is bleeding on the floor, please press three. Our pony maintainence specialists are on duty from nine to five, if you or your loved one is not dying immediately or has a trivial illness, please call back within those hours. If you or your loved one is suffering from Mind Sickness, press nine for immediate action by a re conditioner in the area. Thank you for your cooperation."
I hesitated. Rainbow could be suffering from Mind Sickness, yes, that must be it. I pressed nine.
"Thank you for reporting Mind Sickness," the cheery mechanical voice said, "A mobile reconditioning team will be to your residence in a few minutes." I slammed down the receiver and went back to Rainbow.
"You did it, didn't you," she said quietly as I embraced her.
"What?"
"You reported me," she looked at me with pleading eyes. "Do you have any idea what they do to 'recondition" ponies?"
"No," I thought as I spoke, "I never thought about that before."
"They beat them into submission," Rainbow continued coldly, "They torture their-" Suddenly, she fell limp, her tortured mind forced into blissful unconsciousness.
"Rainbow!" I cried, running over to her. I was quickly pushed back by a few stallions in black suits.
"Please don't interfere," one of them said gruffly to me while the other swung Rainbow on his back. "She'll be back good as new by tomorrow." Before I could say anything they were gone. I knew it must have been for the best, but one part of my mind couldn't stop nagging.
"FIREMARES!" a shout through my home radio made me jump about six inches in the air. I ran over the shelf where it was stationed. "We have an emergency! All mares REPORT IMMEDIATLY!"
"Here we go," I muttered, teleporting into the station. A red alarm was twirling on the ceiling of the living room, a whining alarm pierced my ears. "What the hell is going on?" I asked Lyra as we donned our coats and boots.
"Somepony reported a secret library," she said quickly, "Ponies have been borrowing books from it. We need to destroy it before the corruption can spread any further."
"Alright," I said, putting my helmet on and fastening the clips, "Immolator 401 is on duty!"
The truck cart ran screaming into the night, with us aboard. I didn't know what was going to happen, but it was probably going to be ugly.