Sweetie Belle goes to jail. What will this perfect young filly learn within the cold stone walls of the Jonagold Juvenile Detention Center in Ponyville?
The first thing was that it was cold. The officer sat in front of me behind a rather simple desk. Though the sounds of ruffling paper should have been quiet, they were amplified by the sheer solidness of the room. My ears twitched at the acoustics. The humming of the air conditioning, the shuffling of the papers, the movement of clothes, even the breathing, were all deafening yet quiet at the same time.
I said nothing as I watched the stallion. He was burly, obviously having sat down a long time, but not unfit. His black uniform reminded me of a police uniform, but this lacked a shining metal badge in favor of a machine-stitched embroidered emblem at the chest. The sleeves of his front hooves, at the shoulder, had similar emblems. From this angle I couldn't quite tell what they said, though I could see the colors of the Ponyville County flag. The shirt was unbuttoned right before the collar, and a pen was clipped there.
I watched as the pony shuffled papers about with his hooves. Though he lacked a horn, the dexterity of his appendages said he had done this a lot.
“Alright, filly,” he said, not tired, but not enthusiastic, just routine, “Name?”
Name? Name…
“S-weetie Belle,” I stammered. The question caught me off guard with its simplicity. I guess I didn't expect it. Then again, I don't know what to expect at all. Silence befell the room again as he wrote on a page laying before him.
“Equestrian Identification Number?” He asked, looking up expectantly.
“Z-zero six eight, three s-seven five, z-zero four three two,” I managed. I noticed I was shivering. It was cold, but I didn't think it was that cold.
The officer wrote yet again, this time for a bit longer. I could see him checking boxes and filling things out. I guess this was some sort of identification paper. He paused and looked up at me again.
“Taxpayer Identification Number?” a pause… “If you don't know it, it’s fine.”
“I-I don't, I’m sorry sir,” I managed to squeak, my voice low. Some more writing, and he flipped a page. He breathed and shuffled in his seat, obviously finished with that paper.
“W-why am I here, sir?” I said finally after a moment of silence. He looked up at me, both the glint of hardness yet sympathy in his eyes.
“That isn't for me to know, Belle. Your caseworker will handle your case, though your pod officer will be able to tell you your specific charge once he receives the paperwork,” He explained matter-of-factly. He slid out a piece of paper, clipped it under a clipboard, and hooved it to me.
At first I faltered, forgetting I was unable to grab it with my magic. I reached my hooves out and took it, and took the plastic pen he hoofed me into my mouth.
“When you’re finished make sure to put a signature at the bottom. Please fill it out as ‘most relatable’ to ‘most unrelatable’, and be perfectly honest.”
I nodded and looked down at the sheet. It read “Psychological and Emotional Evaluation” at the top in imperfect lettering. It was clear this form had been photocopied many times over. The questions asked things like “Have you had any loss in the family lately,” and “Have you recently been experiencing depression,” to “Do you have many friends at school,” and “Are you hopeful about your future.” I answered them honestly, but… not really. I had a feeling they were using this to gauge if I was suicidal or not. I knew I wasn’t, but I felt that if I answered truthfully on some questions they would deem me as such, and that’s the last thing I wanted.
After a few minutes I had the form filled out and, having asked the officer the date, dated and handed back. He took the paper, unclipped them from the clipboard, and put some more on, handing the board back to me.
“These are medical consent forms,” He explained, “It allows us to treat you and test you for cutiepox.” I nodded and signed the papers. The next one asked for any allergies or known medical issues, to which I all answered ‘No’.
The officer put the paper in a folder then proceeded to stand, walking around the desk. My eyes followed him all the way. I wasn't scared, or worried, I guess I was just wondering and waiting for what happened next, trying to be as cooperative and still as possible. He walked to a door at my right, and cracking it he hollered for another pony to come.
“Sweet Creame, could you come to Intake please?” he asked politely yet with authority. Soon, a brown earth mare with a golden mane appeared in the door. “We need to do a cough check and search on her,” he explained to her.
The mare walked briskly to a solid blue door to my left and opened it. Inside it was a bit dark, but I could tell it was tiled.
“Come on, filly,” she simply commanded as she pulled some plastic hoof covers on. Hopping off my plastic chair, I briskly trotted to the room, which was darker than I expected. I guess the light above was just going out or something. It was small and tiled, and simply square. As I went in, the stallion deposited a neat stack of clothing, a towel, and an opened plastic bag on the floor just inside the door then exited, closing the door until it was just cracked open.
The mare stood in front of me, her figure a little imposing, and her straight face not doing her any favors.
“Go ahead and take off all of your clothes one piece at a time starting with your shirt, and hoof each item to me,” she stated authoritatively. I did as she said. Stripping my upper pj’s off, I felt the cold air of the room against my bare fur and shivered. I handed the item to the officer, who proceeded to shake it and run her hoof along it, then plop it into the opened bag on the floor. I proceed to my socks, and then finally my bottoms. Though I didn't normally wear clothing, I felt nude and exposed in front of the mare, and nervously shifted on my hooves as she deposited the last bit of clothing in the bag.
“I am going to touch my hoof to your groin like this,” she said, making a cupping gesture with her gloved hoof, “To check for contraband items. I will ask you to turn your head and cough. I don't want girly coughs, I want real coughs, got it?” she explained. I nodded nervously.
“Stand.” She commanded. I stood, wobbling on my back hooves but gaining a steady balance quickly. The mare walked up, reached her hoof out, and touched me. “Cough.” she ordered. I coughed twice, turning my head like she had asked. “Cough.” she said again, and I coughed twice again. After this the mare backed away, and I returned to all fours. The mare opened the door and shuffled out. Turning around, she pointed to the pile of clothes and said “Shower and then put these on. You have five minutes. Make sure to shower well.” I nodded again and shuffled towards the pile as she closed the door. Without the light from the cracked door, it was even moodier. I picked up a small bar of soap in my hooves that had been laying on the towel and trotted to the other side of the room. A small nozzle protruded from the wall. It wasn't like a usual showerhead, it was just a small, bullet-shaped nozzle with a hole in it, angled down. Looking down, I saw a button and not a dial. Having thoroughly studied it for a few seconds, I set the towel and soap down away from where I thought the affected area would be, turned, and pressed the button.
I shrieked as the freezing-cold water hit me, jumping back and breathing hard. I stared at the flowing water for a moment as I recovered, it shooting out much like a garden hose than the showers I was used to.
Figuring I had no choice, I stepped forward into the cold stream. It immediately sucked the breath out of my lungs but I powered through. Grabbing the soap, I noticed it was on a small washcloth, so I used that to scrub myself down.
In the middle of scrubbing my back legs after having lathered my front, the stream suddenly stopped. I looked at it, a bit confused for a second, and then pressed the button again. The water continued, and I continued scrubbing.
Having rinsed and dried, I went to put the clothes on. And what I mean by ‘clothes’ I mean one single piece of clothing: an orange jumpsuit. It was obviously a little worn, with the black buttons on the front having been rubbed to brass. I slipped it on and buttoned each button, their metal cold against my fur.
Stepping out of the room with the towel, washcloth, and soap neatly folded atop my back, I walked back over to the desk. The mare was gone and the stallion sat there doing more paperwork.
Immediately, though, he got up, leaving his pen on the desk, took the stuff on my back, set it next to the desk, and walked towards yet another door. Picking up what looked to be some folded blankets sitting there, he plopped them on my back.
“Right this way, Belle,” He voiced, holding the door open. I trotted out, the hallway beyond consisting of the same gray linoleum tile and white-painted cinder blocks.
“Left,” he said, and I trotted left, him following closely behind. We came at a junction and I stopped. On the wall was black lettering:
← Cluster II Cluster III & IV →
“Right,” the officer directed, and I trotted. More hallway, and before me lay a large blue steel door. Stopping at it, the officer walked up and pressed a button. Wheiiirschlick it emanated, and the officer opened it. Beyond was a hallway branching off around an octagonal hub with an open door, and two officer ponies were sitting inside at what looked to be control panels, thick glass windows all around them. They looked at us as we walked by, my officer directing me to the right. He opened another, smaller door labeled ‘D-Pod’, to a large room with dimmed lights.
Inside sat three square metal tables with connected metal seats, a J-shaped desk to the right, and a high ceiling. The room was shaped like an odd trapezoid. The back wall ran perpendicular to the hallway we walked in through, and on it were nine large blue doors with windows, each numbered ‘D1’ through ‘D9.’ To my left, running at an odd angle towards the back were ten, eleven, and twelve. I could only assume these were jail cells…
The ninth cell in the back was open, a dim light inside of it. Walking towards it, the officer held the door open and motioned for me to enter. As I entered, I saw it was just as simple as everything else. Hard floor, brick walls, a metal toilet and sink, and a concrete slab with what looked like a sort of bare mattress on it.
SLAM!
I jumped and spun around as the door behind me shut. It wasn't actually a slam, but the sound of it was loud enough to truly startle me.
I turned back, taking the linens off my back and walking over to the bed. Unfolding the sheets and linens, I dressed the bed neatly and prettily, tucking in the sheets and blanket tight, ignoring my hooves shaking the entire time.
When I was satisfied with my work, I climbed up and shimmied under the covers, closing my eyes.
For the first time since I entered the cold walls of the facility, I cried, my quiet sniffles and whimpers reverberating off the hard concrete as the sheets beneath me caught my tears.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I was awoken by a young stallion in orange standing in my door telling me to get up. I don't know if I dreamed last night at all.
Slogging out tiredly from the cell, I looked upon the scene in front of me. By nearly every cell door stood a young colt of some size and shape, their manes cut short and simple, their eyes all tired, standing straight ahead. An officer pony was standing tall at the front of the room, looking from pony to pony until his eyes fell on me. He lingered for a moment then asked,
“Miss Belle?”
“Y-yes sir?” I squeaked.
He merely nodded and then looked at the colt next to me,
“Mr. Shine, will you distribute the seats?” He asked calmly, though I doubt it was a request.
“Yes sir!” Shine responded, walking over near the first cell where several seats lay stacked. Grabbing each in his mouth by a handle, he stacked a few on top of his back and began his way to each cell, setting a seat next to each colt with a plasticy ‘thunk’. Only four in and he had to get some more, but made haste in his efforts. Every other colt remained standing, still and patient. Eventually Shine reached me and paused for a moment, but only a small, unnoticeable moment, setting the chair down with another thunk as per usual.
Once finished setting all the chairs, the colt returned to his door, which was next to mine. The officer’s eyes swept the room.
“Hygiene, all of you. I want beds folded and tucked.”
Immediately, every colt went into their cells, the sounds of running water and flapping linens quietly filling the large, stale room.
“Miss Belle,” he said, startling me from my observations. The officer motioned for me to come over to the J-shaped desk and, ruffling through a drawer, plopped down a small plastic bag. I immediately walked up and saw it had a toothbrush, a small bar of soap similar to the one from my shower before, a small tube of toothpaste, and some type of vial that I couldn't make out just looking at a glance.
“Here’s your hygiene kit,” he stated factually, “Right now you have 5 minutes to do your hygiene and make your bed. I want your bed folded like so,” he pointed to a small photocopied diagram taped to the wall behind me, “and when you’re finished, stand at attention outside your cell.”
“Yes sir.” I started, quickly grabbing the bag in my mouth and going over to study the diagram. I had to move quickly, obviously. I didn't want to possibly get in trouble--
“Oh and, Miss Belle,” he said, cutting through my thoughts and putting a small gray brush on the desk for me to grab. I briskly trotted over and placed the brush on my back to carry, eeped a small ‘thank you’, and returned to the diagram.
It showed the 3 different layers of the bedspread. The first was a sort of sack that the mattress went into. I had wondered what that was. The second was just a sheet, and the third was the blanket. The sheet was to be tightly tucked, and the blanket folded, laying across the bottom of the bed and tucked. It also showed a pillow, but I didn't have one so I paid it no mind.
Trotting back to my room, I quickly made the bed as instructed, and it wasn't too dissimilar to how I had made it the night before, only I didn't use the mattress cover as another sheet layer. Once finished, I quickly opened the bag and trotted to the sink. It was stainless steel with a similar button-system as the shower I’d previously used, but instead of a simple spout pointing down, it pointed up. Opening the bag, I fished out the toothbrush and toothpaste, which was a clear gel. Thankfully, the water didn't spray me in the face, and merely arced up like a drinking fountain and straight into the washbasin. Wasting no time, I brushed my teeth, then brushed my hair.
Suddenly I heard a great ROAR! and jumped in fright, yet nothing happened. It seemed to have come from the next room. I couldn't waste any time, Celestia knows how much had already passed, so I briskly brushed my mane, hoping it looked good as I had no mirror, and emptied the bladder I didn't know was full into the toilet connected to the sink.
Turning around, I looked for some sort of lever to flush the toilet, but there was none. There were, however, three buttons on the sink panel; two on either side of the faucet, and one slightly larger off to the left. Having already pressed one next to the faucet earlier, I pressed the large one, and was immediately startled by the immense noise.
I should have figured that was where the horrendous sound from earlier had come from, and now that it was over I heard many more throughout the room outside. I guess everyone must save that for last, heh.
Having finished all I had to do, I stepped out of my cell and stood next to it as instructed. By this time, nearly everypony had finished. I let out a sigh, not realizing I had been holding my breath.
I probably should have kept holding it though, because I saw the officer stallion begin inspecting each room! My stomach dropped a little the moment I realized this, and I tried to do my best to stand tall and not worry--
Did I leave a corner untucked? Was it tight enough? Oh no! I forgot to do something with the toothbrush! Was I supposed to put it back in the bag?! What was going to happen if he saw that? Was I going to get into trouble? What happens if I get in trouble? What could possibly be worse than this already?!--
“Good.” I suddenly heard, and looking up, saw the officer standing in front of my cell. I hadn’t even noticed him come by, and like that it was over. Letting out a held breath, my body visibly deflated from its pent-up anxiety, and I felt my face flush a little red. He stood and looked at me for a moment but, saying nothing, turned to inspect the next cell.
Suddenly, the smell of food wafted in front of my nose. Taking a small sniff, my belly growled in confirmation.
“WHOOP WHOOOOP!” came an enthusiastic shout from the hallway. There was an immediate slight shuffling of everypony in the room, and, pulling out of the final cell, Mr. Officer said ‘at ease’.
Everypony immediately sat on their chairs, and I followed suit.
“Mr Flame,” the officer called from behind his desk, having sat down.
“Sir?” a red and yellow colt at D12 responded. He was a little porky, but not in the bad way. He had body markings that looked like flames in his fur, something I don't quite see often. I wondered if he was from around this area or not, as I’d never seen him before.
“Grab thirteen trays, if you would,” Mr. Officer instructed.
“Yes sir!” the colt said, getting up and going to a gray cart sitting in front of the door. Grabbing the handle of it in his mouth, he back trotted out of the door, pulling the cart with him. Outside through the windows I saw a zebra in a khaki officer shirt and harness bringing a large metal box he was pulling to a stop. Mr. Flame and the zebra conversed as they both pulled out some brown boxes and sat them onto the gray cart. I had only ever seen Zecora before, I didn't even know there were other zebras in Ponyville. Opening the door, the Khaki'd zebra waltzed into the pod with a broad smile as Flame continued loading.
"Breakfast time! Hot and steamy!" He said with a big grin, and many colts 'woop'ed in response.
"I bet you already had two trays," Mr. Officer joked, a smirk on his face as he looked at the zebra.
"Nah, you know how it is, gotta save these for the fine gents of this here center!" Mr. Khaki retorted, walking up to the colt at D11 and ruffling his short hair playfully. "Gotta give these growin colts their fill!" All of this brought a bit of a smile to my face, and I felt a little warmth in my chest. He was so positive, and that just made me happy.
"Oh well now, look at this... You are quite the beautiful young filly!" Mr. Khaki said, ripping my attention away from my thoughts. The warmth within me suddenly turned into a cold rock as I realized just who he was talking about. "This is the one who came in last night?" He asked Mr. Officer, yet kept his eyes on me.
"Yessir, at around 4 am," The zebra just sighed and, shaking his head, turned back to the rest of the group.
"Well you boys have a blessed day, ya hear? I got trays to deliver. Gotta feed Cluster Four sometime!" And, with that, he walked out. My mind was left unsure of what to think, but held onto one small detail: the falter of his smile.
As he went, the colt who loaded the cart pulled the door open and pushed it inside. The smell of the food now was making my mouth water, though I couldn't place what it actually was. After sitting, the officer stood, looked around the room, and then...
“Mr Twirl, would you like to bless the meal?” he said, his gaze falling on a silver pony. The colt immediately spoke up with a scratchy voice,
“Sir! God, thank you for this food and the blessings of this day. We ask you to nourish us and lead us in your way,” Twirl said, and several responded ‘amen’. I, too, said ‘amen’. I believed in God like my parents, though I didn't know that ponies who believed prayed before meals.
The officer then called up the first pony to get a tray, starting with room one. Simply, when one pony sat down, the next got up. What I had thought were boxes had actually been plastic trays, and each pony grabbed them in their mouths with a little lift-up handle in the very center.
Finally, the colt next to me… uh, ‘Shine’ I think, sat, and I stood. At first, being a bit timid, I walked slowly, but then quickened the pace as my stomach growled yet again, the colt I passed letting out a small laugh. That immediately turned my face red, and I quickly picked the tray up in my mouth, using my tongue to flip up the handle. It tasted a bit like soap, which was nasty, but I’m glad they washed it.
Sitting, I looked around and already saw the ponies before me chowing down, so I went ahead…
“Rice?” I asked aloud. I suddenly cringed, hoping I didn't step out of line with my speech, but then I noticed the other colts were talking to each other as well. Even the officer had a tray and was chowing down on it.
“Sweet rice!” the colt next to me said, his mouth greedily enjoying the gray paste, “My fave!”
Seeing everypony enjoying it so much, I decided to take a bite. Lifting a bit up to my mouth with my spork, I sniffed it. Smelling no horrors of cooking beyond my imagination, I chomped down.
“Mmm! Thish ish good!” I said, immediately scarfing it all down. And it was pretty good! It wasn't much like anything I’d had before. It wasn't even like the consistency of rice either, but was more like a super thick, lumpy oatmeal, and had a uniquely sweet flavoring to it that just covered the entire mouth in sugary goodness.
That was the main course, but there were other items of culinary goodness too. First, in a small square of the tray, was a fruit salad in sugary juice. I had had that before in school, but this had little cherry bits in them! It didn't taste as sweet as regular cherries, probably from sitting in the juice so long, but it wasn't unwelcome either.
Next to that was a small thing of scrambled eggs. Honestly, it had been so long since I had scrambled eggs, and they were just delicious. The next small compartment had a… frozen juice cup?
“Hey, uhm,” I started to ask the pony next to me. Darn! What was his name again? “What am I supposed to do with… this?” I settled on asking, holding the cold cup in my hoof. It was plastic and had a foil peel-off top on it.
“Oh, that’s orange juice,” he responded… Then proceeded to peel the top of his, drink a little bit of juice, mash up the frozen remains, and then eat that with the spork.
I turned back to my own cup, peeling the top off. Sure enough, there was a big lump of frozen stuff in the middle, and a bit of orange juice around it. It must have meant to thaw out.
Looking around, I saw everypony else doing exactly what my neighbor was. Thus, as they did, so did I.
