With the calendar page flipped past the year of the revolution, concern grew over the fate of the former Equestrians. Many cities, such as St. Poniesburg and Las Pegasus had already declared the city and its surrounding area a new nation, contrary to Applejack’s pleas of a centralized union of republics. For political purposes, Applejack changed her name to Vladimare Lenin.

Lenin decreed that, in order to fight off capitalism and corruption, there shall, for the time being, be only one allowable party; the Unionist party. Lenin, of course, was the head of the party. She set Stallion as the head of the Worker’s and Peasant’s Inspection Committee, to insure that everypony was treated equally and fairly under the new regime. Setting up the government was a backbreaking task, after all one-sixth of the planet’s landmass had just been freed of rule by rebellious forces, to get them back under rule without inciting more rebellion was incredibly daunting.

The National Board of Unionist Action was based in St. Poniesburg. Due to the fact that this name was largely inspired by the previous czar, Lenin took the liberty in renaming it after himself; Vladimaregrad. After debate and negotiations, a treaty was signed among the Manehattanians, Vladimaregraders, and Canterlotians, as well as certain smaller villages farther out in the barren East who had representatives, to create Lenin’s dream- A collective republic based on the communist ideas of Mare Karlx.

Crimson Maximovna Tracer was a growing filly. She had not yet learned to talk nor fly, but has shown great potential. A sturdy young filly, she was very quiet for the most part and liked playing in her own little corner of the room, rarely venturing out.

The year was 1924, 7 years after the revolution. Crimson was playing in her favorite corner under watchful eye of her mom, reading the latest issue of Izvestia. "Mom, I don't feel so good" she said weakly, then suddenly she fell over. Her mom rushed to her side, picking her up and laying her on her bed. She felt aweful, she could barely move except for straining to throw up in a small bucket by the bed.

The next morning everyone in the center of St. Poniesburg was in a very somber mood. When Crimson’s mom bought a new issue of Izvestia, it became clear why. Vladimare Lenin had suffered a stroke last night. Lenin is dead.

“I read before you...” an official in a bright red uniform said. “The last testament of the great Vladimare Lenin!”. A few muffled applauses echoed throughout the hall. “I would like to congratulate my fellow Unionist leaders in the formation of this great new union which will leave a trail to prosperity that generations of ponies around the world will follow; however I refuse to do so. The Unionist party has ruled for but 7 years, and already our party is corrupting. I would especially like to call out Joseph Stallion and Leon Trottingsky, both who believe they have, and exercise, unlimited authority; especially my appointee to head of the party, Stallion. He has shown unquestionable and undeniable personal rudeness, unnecessary roughness, lack of finesse; flaws intolerable in a Secretary-General.” He finished, and locked the paper in a tube for storing scrolls. All eyes had turned to Trottingsky and Stallion.

Trottingsky began his own, spontaneous speech, declaring Lenin’s testimony not a last will but rather a suggestion, and that neither he nor Stallion, to his knowledge, sought after total power. The committee believed his story and in a close vote, determined they may stay in their positions of the Unionist party. Joseph Stallion, being the Secretary-General, flexed his power, making sure the head of the Unionist party also became the Premier of the Union.

In the center of Manehattan, millions lined up mourning at the newly created Red Square, where Lenin’s body was sealed in a glass coffin. Among the guests were two distinguished foreigners, a white unicorn with a winding purple mane, and a purple unicorn, with two highlight stripes through hers. Behind a wall of Red Guard soldiers, there stood a podium with microphones.

“... our Unionist referendum! And now I wish to call to the podium the Premier of neighboring China!” the stallion in the red uniform said. The purple unicorn stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat. “Through the ages of world history, thousands of leaders and scholars appeared who spoke eloquent words, but these remained words. You, Lenin, were an exception.” She said, pointing a hoof to the glass coffin below her. “You not only spoke and taught us, but translated your words into deeds. You created a new country. You showed us the road of joint struggle... You, great mare that you are, will live on in the memories of the oppressed people through the centuries.”

There was a roar of applause from the crowd, and the white unicorn was called to the podium for her thoughts. After her refusal and a small argument few could hear, she finally stepped up to the podium, with a short but concise message. “He alone could have found the way back to the causeway... You were left floundering in the bog. Your worst misfortune was his birth... your next worst his death.” She marched off the podium, stomping her hooves, through the column of stunned Red Guardsmen, and into a carriage, riding off in the direction of the sunset. The purple unicorn also said her good-byes, and climbed into a different carriage, and rode in the direction from where the sun rises.

Crimson went to school as usual. She didn’t have many friends, though. The kids of West European descent, like the children whose parents were German or French, looked down upon her. Only a few scrawny children ever played with her, even though she was much bigger and stronger than they were. The American parent’s filly didn’t even pay attention to her, she was much too busy playing with her British friends and flying.

One day she decided today was the day she would make a friend. During lunch she got her tray of food, but instead of sitting with the scrawny kids she decided to sit at the popular table. Almost immediately the German colts started cursing her off, and the British ones sliding away. However, the American filly just sat there. She was a lot like Crimson. She was a strong, young pegasus, who liked being alone. Neither Crimson nor the filly said a word, and just ate together, not even sharing glances. Eventually Crimson mustered the courage to speak up, and possibly fulfill her promise to herself to make a new friend. “Hey...” Crimson said. The filly just flicked her rainbow hair and kept eating, trying not to pay attention. Crimson felt hurt.

The year was now 1928. Stallion, the head of the Union party, sat on his chair like a stone wall, not even blinking.

“Is there a problem, comrade General-Secretary?” the stallion in the red uniform asked.

“Yes, there is. We are the greatest power on the planet, yet we are fifty or a hundred years behind the advanced countries. We must make good this distance in ten years. Either we do it, or they will crush us. So, I have come up with a plan. I will impose very high quotas- almost impossible to meet quotas. I will make the country work double time. And just so that no one thinks my plan isn’t serious, I will send anyone who fails to meet the quotas to Siberia.”

“But sir, you will send nearly all the workers and peasants to Siberia?”

“No, that’s just the plan. I won’t actually send everyone who fails the quota to Siberia, that would be catastrophic to the Union. I will just send the lowest performing 1% every year to Siberia just to show I am serious. I will likely begin with the intellectuals who don’t work for crap, all they do is think and think and say they move mountains as the clouds drift by. An unbelievable waste to our food and clothing supplies. I want wood supplies up 100%, food supplies up 150%, and rubber and oil up 275%! Only then can we have the unstoppable juggernaut that will make Eastern Europe see that their dictators aren’t in their best interest, assimilation is.”

“Sir Comrade, is that ethical?”

“The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic.” He said, with no emotion in his voice.

The man in the red uniform paused, then remembered his original question. “I must ask, what were you thinking so deeply about?”

“I am wondering why in the name of mother Russia I haven’t thought of this sooner.” He said, and then froze back into his pensive thought. A fly landed right on his pupil, and he did not move a muscle.

A large crowd had gathered at Las Pegasus. Stallion had said that the decrepit town shall be completely transformed into a bustling city. After long anxious hours of waiting, Stallion finally made his speech dedicating the town to the savior of the CCCP, himself, and renamed it Stalliongrad. A curtain fell, and everyone gasped. The city was full of brilliant skyscrapers and apartments, large factories with smokestacks, soon to be pouring the black clouds of industrialization. Oil derricks lined the eastern end, spraying glorious black gold into the parched pipes.

Stallion then proceeded to order much of the population of Vladimaregrad and some of Manehattan to move into this city. Among them, Crimson Tracer, who was separated from her mom for the sake of efficiency. She was a grown mare by now, and really deserved to live independently anyway. Stallion proceeded to climb into the fuselage of one of the Union's first passenger aircraft, one that could hold no more than 5 ponies, and flew off Northward back to the capital of Vladimaregrad.

A magenta pegasus with light pink hair and green eyes with 3 flowers as a cutie mark was dragged along the ground, thrashing her hooves around. The Red Guard pegasi dropped her hind legs and she fell onto the ground, creating a small dust cloud. Joseph Stallion walked up to her and leaned over, staring her down condescendingly.

“Why do you defy my authority?” he asked monotonously.

“Look!” she said hysterically, sobbing a bit. “I wrote down plans to increase the efficiency of our wells by 50%! You can get much more oil with the same amount of stallions!”

“You know what I see?” he asked. “I see a piece of paper with ink on it. I demanded oil; I got paper with ink on it. Your argument is invalid. Red Guard, as you were.”

The Red Guard continued dragging the kicking and screaming intellectual, and threw her into the wagon of a train, along with many other ponies, some confused, some crying, some just accepting their predicament. Stallion looked at the paper, trying to decipher it, but then handed it to an engineer. He does work, he thought. He should be allowed to do the thinking; on his free time, of course. He chuckled and continued on, congratulating many others for their hard work and sacrifice for the state. This was correct. This was how things should be.

“Oh, and guards?”

“Yes Comrade Stallion!” two Red Guard stallions replied.

“Please escort this engineer back.”

The engineer was surprised by this order. “You don’t trust me with these plans?” he asked, hurt. Stallion batted an eye at him and replied simply “I trust no one, not even myself.”

In the next 10 years, the CCCP made huge leaps in technology and industry, and the Union was prospering.