CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE - THE LESSER
"Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past." - George Orwell
"Real eyes
Realize
Real lies." - Tupac Shakur
"What is the point of reference for the new world in gestation? The world of production; work." - Antonio Gramsci
History teaches us who we are. Where we come from. What we as a society should be striving to become.
To lie about history - to distort it on purpose - is to disgrace that vital dialogue between past and future. To twist the very fabric of the equine soul.
When the kids of Safety step out on their rooftops on a cool autumn night, and wonder about their purpose in this world, it is those lies that tell them what to dream. When they pass small armies of slaves in blue jumpsuits on their way to class each and every day, it's those lies that keep them from noticing.
How can you even begin to concieve that a better world might maybe kinda sorta be just a little teeny tiny bit possible if you don't even know what that better world is supposed to fucking look like? How do you rebuild Equestria if you don't even know what Equestria used to be?
It made me wonder about history class back home. How the Hearth's Warming chapter in Miss Cheerilee's book teaches us all the good stuff that aligns with what we already believe, but completely fucking ignores what happened to the Founding Sisters afterwards.
That thought planted a haunted seed in my heart - a lingering queasiness.
'Cause I'd been lied to too.
Bananas Foster was right. Nopony ever seems to know the social history of sheep - their lore, their dreams, their values. 'Cause none of us ever even thought to ask. It was all because of a tale we'd been told - a lie about what civilization was. A story that left sheep out entirely.
* * *
My friends and I sat on crates all lined up for us in the center off Miss Honey's cavernous office. It had been some kinda mogul's business-y throne room once upon a time. But the moulding on the big fancy columns was crumbling. And the copper dragon statues had turned green with age.
All that remained was a gargantuan metal desk - way too big for Miss Honey to sit at - and a console the size of a pipe organ, taking up most of the office's western wall. The two fixtures had all sorts of cables and stuff running between them.
That big machine musta been the reason Miss Honey staged her base of operation in some business-jerk's power cave. Every other surface was either painted pastel, speckled with googly eyes, or plastered with macaroni art from Safety's student body.
Miss Honey typed away at the pipe organ console while the three of us sat, silently digesting our own dread.
Our passions had had time to settle down a bit. And my brain seized the opportunity to yell at me for being so damn stupid.
What the fuck, Rose? You're supposed to be lying low.
You're supposed to be meeting up with Misty Mountain. To aid his mission. To get home. To live to fight the shadowmajigs another day, and fucking free Blueberry Milkshake, who's getting subjected to unspeakable tortures. Because of you.
Miss Honey fiddled with dial and knob and button and screen on that great big old console of hers. While my brain went to war with itself for what seemed like a million billion trillion years.
...
...
...
...
...
Finally, Miss Honey hopped off her stool. Totally abruptish. And crossed the gargantuan office to approach us. Grim as coal.
She didn't say a word - not at first. Just turned her eyeballs into drills and pointed them straight at me. Then at Foster. Then Cliff. While her pipe organ console-a-majig filled the silence between us with a low hum. Bvvvvvmmmm.
"Well?" Miss Honey said at last. "Let's hear it."
My friends and I looked to one another in confusion. None of us had ever been to a principal's office before, let alone a post-apocalyptic one. We didn't know what to expect, but it sure wasn't this.
"From what I've been told," Miss Honey continued. "Y'all are pretty vocal about the way things ought to be run around here. Well," she clipped her hooves together. "Here I am. Let's hear it."
Foster cleared her throat in the awkward quietude that followed.
"Come on," Miss Honey said. "This is my school. I make the rules. Not Miss Mango. Not your friends. Not Red Eye. She pointed to a giant flag that hung from the wall: a big red eye looming over the old Equestrian flag I knew.
"I'm always straight with you kids," she said. "So come on, be straight with me. Do you have a problem with the way Safety is run? Yes or no?"
I bit my lip. Dug my hooves into the crate beneath me.
"Well, not the way it's run in particular," Foster jumped in, all diplomatical-like. Trying to draw the fire to herself. "It's actually pretty great what you have accomplished here, it's just…"
"Slavery," said Cliff Diver. "It's all made possible by slavery. Isn't it?"
"Thank you," Miss Honey said, eyeballing me and Foster. Voice like stone. "Thank you, sugar pie," she said to Cliff. Voice like nectar. "Now we're getting somewhere."
She sauntered over to Cliff. "I'm gonna be real with you," she said. “I hate it. Possibly more than you do." She threw her eyeballs at each of us. One at a time. The stable kids. Well-fed bunker-stunkers. Who had, supposedly, known Wasteland hardship only briefly.
I had to choke back a smirk. 'Cause in that moment, I knew that Glenn hadn't ratted us out. That the confidentiality of emotional education was real. At least somewhat. Or she would never have presumed to hate the institution of servitude more than I did.
"Slavery is a terrible evil," Miss Honey continued.
"Then why do you have slaves working here?'' I demanded.
I shot up out of my seat. Legs trembling with rage. Itching to take a swing at her. Or to run. Or... something.
Miss Honey spun and pointed at me. "Good," she said. "Now you're being honest. That's when you ask the smart questions. Come on."
She turned her flank to us, and head-gestured that we were meant to follow. Foster, and Cliff slid off their crates, and Miss Honey led us all to that pipe organ console full of screens and buttons and dials and things.
A few flicks of a few switches later, and Miss Honey was showing us Safety's main street on one of the screens.
The picture moved. It felt like we were walking down the sidewalk. Or floating. Seeing the world through the eyeballs of one of those mechanical sprite bot things that Safety kept around.
Two blue jumpsuit slaves stepped into frame. They were carrying a pane of glass.
"See those two mares right there?"
"Yeah," we all answered.
"What do you think they were doing before they came to Safety?"
Cliff, Foster, and I shot our eyes at one another. Like this was some kinda final exam, and we all had to steal answers from each other without the teacher noticing.
"Either slaving, or starving," answered Miss Honey. "That's what. You know what they'll be doing if I call old Red Eye up, and send 'em back?" She pointed to that big old flag again. As if his presence were somehow everywhere. "Nothing fun."
Miss Honey closed her eyes. Shook her head. A small act of mourning.
"The best of the best come here," she continued. "The luckiest of the lucky."
"But they're always terrified," Cliff said. "That's not luck. That's not any kind of life."
Miss Honey held up a hoof. "I'm gonna stop you right there, child."
She faced the big old pipe organ again. Fiddled with some dials. Next thing I know, we're watching blue jumpsuit ponies gathered around a table. Playing cards. They laugh. They hold up dingy cups. Toast one another. They greedily feast on nachos covered in some kind of mysterious nutrient paste.
"They don't spend their entire lives in terror," said Miss Honey.
"They're just afraid of us," I said. Falling to my flank. Clutching my chest. Remembering the look in the eye of that one slave I'd met in the alleyway during my orientation. Reliving that fear on Kettle Corn's face when I'd tackled her down a hill in the middle of a musical number, and reared up, ready to trample her skull to pudding.
I couldn't bear the thought of anypony fearing me like that.
"They're afraid of getting sent back," said Miss Honey.
"Sent back?" Bananas Foster said.
"A while ago," Miss Honey explained. "Back when Safety was brand new, what you call 'blue jumpsuit ponies' used to fraternize freely with the children of Safety.
'That all ended when one student came along and started talking rebellion." Miss Honey hung her head low. Like it was her own personal failing. "It didn't end well."
In that moment, I could feel the stareitty eye of the dude in the flag. It seemed to look down on me. Stirring up nightmares and wonders of what could have happened to those rebel slaves. Or the kid who'd helped them organize. It made my skin crawl - the power in that flag. Like when I first touched the Emperor card in Pinkie Pie's tarot deck, and felt his presence.
"They run from kids now," Miss Honey said. "'Cause they know that if they talk to you - any of you - then they can't work for me anymore." After a brief moment of silence, our principal worked up a faint little smile. "And everypony wants to work for Miss Honey."
My stomach got all blurbley and my heart shattered into a trillion million pieces. If the fear that those jumpsuit ponies endured was actually the best life they could ever hope for, I didn't wanna imagine what the alternative was. What cruelty went on in that fucked up Pinkie Pie amusement park just beyond Safety's borders.
FWOOOONG. I could suddenly smell the stale air of the Trottica mines all over again. The sweat. The taste of coppery blood, and rock dust on my tongue.
I could hear the thunderous sound of children stampeding against their captors.
I could see the look in the eyes of that poor Wasteland boy who got taken away from his burning village the night I first set hoof in the Wasteland. The kid I never saw again.
I never knew if he lived to see the freedom that the Trottica kids won for themselves. It all came back. And it made a horrible sound that pounded in my ears. FWOOOONG.
"...But it's still slavery," Cliff insisted. "Still evil." He trembled so hard, his knees knocked together like a clonkitty New Years party favor.
Foster put a hoof on his shoulder. Pet his mane to calm him down.
"Don't I know it," Miss Honey replied. "But if you wanna change the world you've gotta start with the world you got. Not the world you want."
She fiddled with the big pipe organ thing again. Switched a couple of dials, punched some keys till we had a view of someplace indoors. Not the sprite bot. Not the slave quarters.
The hospital. Intensive Care Unit. The boy with the accordion lungs.
Bananas Foster pressed closer, mesmerized by the sight of him - the sight of children coming from all over Safety, waiting for the privilege of keeping him company.
"Y'all know him?" Asked Miss Honey.
"No," whispered Foster. "Not personally, anyway."
"We visited just before lunch," I clarified.
"Well, you see that pump there?" Miss Honey asked. "That tubing, that screen? Those wires running below? Do you see it?" Miss Honey waited for a reply that never came. "Everything there was made possible by seventeen different factories, three refineries, two power plants, and four processing centers. All operated by slave labor. I know because I requisitioned those parts. I secured the horsepower. I petitioned Red Eye for the resources to build a real future for Equestria's children. One that serves the greater good."
"It's not the greater good," Cliff sniffled, eyes fixed on the screen with Accordion Boy. "It's still slavery. It's still horrible. It's still evil."
I put my hoof on his shoulder too. 'Cause I felt his outrage. I wanted to stand up and shout it all down. But couldn't. 'Cause we had a time traveling unicorn kid in a wizard hat to rendezvous with. And we needed to make that our number one priority.
"Maybe, son," said Miss Honey, shaking her head. "Maybe you'll even be the one to abolish it someday. But this right here - this right now - is the lesser evil. And it's all we got to work with."
Bzzzmmmm. The grinding hum of the giant-pipe-organ-console-thing cut the air between us as those words hung heavy in my head. The lesser evil.
I had never considered such a thing. Even for a moment.
The very idea was fucking insane! Worse than the Wasteland. Worse than the mines. Worse than trenches and pointy wire and war. Because even in the face of horror - even as we stared down death and torment and slaughter and cloaks and stuff, we'd still had another option - another hope.
Burn the whole fucking thing down.
But this? Just...chilling out? Casually reaping the benefits of a world built on horror? Simply 'cause it was better than the alternative?
It made my liver boil over with bile.
The lesser evil may not have robbed us of our bodies the way that slavery did. But it robbed us of our consciences. Our souls. Ourselves.
What it meant to be pony.
Were we just supposed to live our lives like those townsponies under the reign of the cloak-o priestess? With their tchotchkes and their creepy needlepoint quotations hanging over broken fireplaces?
Were we just supposed to...go about our day? Pretend that everything was okay? Like those villagers had pretended we weren't getting tortured and murdered for gems under Trottica?
It's fucking unthinkable.
And still, I couldn't bear to look at the screen. And imagine what would happen to that bubble boy without his accordion lungs. Without Safety.
Without slavery.
"You don't have to agree with me, children," Miss Honey spoke up.
I blink-bloinked. Grownups never say that kinda thing.
"But," she continued. "I can't have you tossing desks around either."
Cliff Diver tightened up. Unsure whether to hang his head in shame. Or hold it way up high in defiance.
Foster noticed him trembling, and leapt in. Drawing attention to herself instead. "Where does that leave us?"
"In a bit of a pickle," Miss Honey replied. "Under ordinary circumstances, you'd have all the time in the world to adjust. Like everypony else."
In the brief moment that our principal took to shake her head and suck in a fresh breath, I couldn't help but wonder what all the other kids must have done when they first found out how Safety runs.
"But these aren't ordinary circumstances," Miss Honey continued. "And you're no ordinary kids. Are you?"
Miss Honey's cheekbones dropped their rosey smile. And her eyes turned cold and gray. Like some kinda button had been pushed to switch her face up. Transform her into the Miss Honey that everypony feared.
I looked to Foster. Desperate to hide my discomfort. Together, we shook our heads and shrugged. As if to say, 'what in Equestria is she talking about? We're just three ordinary bunker stunkers. Not time traveling dream-wizards at all.
But she didn't buy it. "The circumstances of your arrival were peculiar," said Miss Honey, voice like ice. "You know it. I know it. And so do certain ponies who have a whole lot more power than I do."
My friends and I looked again to that Red Eye flag. Knowing damn well what she meant.
"I've personally vouched for you - all of you," she added, eyeing Cliff Diver in particular. "And we're doing things The Safety Way...for now."
"Thank you for that," said Foster with a smile, and a faint little laugh.
"You're very welcome, sugar." Miss Honey squinted her eyes, and stretched her cheeks into a pained smile. "But there's gonna come a time when Miss Honey can no longer help you. You understand?"
None of us replied. That pipe organ console thingy just hummed some more. Bvvvvvmmmm.
"Do you understand?"
"Uh, yes."
"Yeah."
"Of course."
We all stammered out our replies.
"I don't think you do," said Miss Honey. "If word gets out that you've been raising a fuss. Trying to stir folks up against the way Fillydelphia is run, I won't. Be. Able. To. Help. You. Do you understand that, children?"
We all nodded in silent terror.
Listening to Miss Honey plead was way worse than threats or logic or reason ever could be.
"I'm gonna get a little heavy now," said Miss Honey. (As though our conversation thus far had been nothing more than chit chat over brunch). "I need to know. How'd y'all do it? How'd you get in?"
…
…
…
"W-what?" Said Cliff.
"But that's not your way," I stammered.
"It's not the Safety Way," Foster squeaked.
"Yet...here we are," said Miss Honey.
The console-a-majig seemed to roar a whole lot more now. Bvvvvvmmmm. Bvvvvvmmmm. The quieter we got, the more oppressive that buzzing grew.
"How did you three get under the wall?" She asked again.
"Under?" Cliff said.
And as all of our brains stopped dead in their brain-tracks, Miss Honey took a moment to dissect us with her eyeballs.
Like a squiggle-majig trapped beneath a microscope, I shrunk under her gaze.
"We just sorta...passed through this weird tunnel," Cliff said hurriedly. "And then we woke up in some rubble."
"That's all?" She said, this time looking right at me, the worst liar in the room.
"I, um, yeah," I replied. "I mean...yeah."
"We're really not sure," Foster added. "It was long, and dark, and I was half asleep."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, ma'am," Foster replied.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
We all played along. Bobbed our heads enthusiastically. In its own strange way, what Foster said actually was the truth.
But deep down inside I was screaming. 'Cause, like, what the fuck? What did Miss Honey know? What did she think that we knew? This was clearly some kinda pop quiz. But, like...the kinda quiz you get in dreams where the schoolhouse is suspended over an active volcano, and all of your classmates will melt to death in a pool of lava if you give a wrong answer, and the lava has piranhas in it for some reason, and the piranhas wanna eat your flesh off as you're melting to death, and by the way...you forgot your pencil.
"Here's what I'm gonna do," said Miss Honey, looking on all three of us with approval. (Apparently, we'd passed the volcano quiz). "No more classes." She spun to face her console again and studied some kind of graph. Names, dates, times. A few clicks of a button, and the squares on her schedule grid changed color. "Go home,'' she said. "Get some rest. You've had a hard day."
"Wait. Are we grounded?" Cliff asked.
"No, you're not in trouble," she replied. "If anything, I blame myself for signing off on the schedule in the first place."
A hush fell over us kids. A grim hopelessness as we watched our grid go gray. There was no way she was gonna let us go to that field trip.
Miss Honey raised an eyebrow. "What? Y'all got plans already?"
I cleared my throat. In that super conspicuous way where you try to pretend that it's just a little dust in your throat, but really you're hiding guilt 'cause you don't want your principal to know that you're on a mission, and you're supposed to rendezvous with your timefriend at the market at 3 o'clock.
"Children, I need you to lay low for a while," said Miss Honey. "Until this whole thing blows over."
"What blows over?" Foster asked.
Miss Honey narrowed her eyes. Got into a staring contest with Foster.
But Bananas didn't flinch.
Then Miss Honey turned to Cliff who just sorta...shrugged all confuseitty-like.
When her eyeballs hit mine, and saw what musta been pure confusion on my face, Miss Honey lit up like a birthday cake. Out of nowhere. Like she was relieved by my utter cluelessness.
"Hearth's Warming," she said. "Red Eye will be Guest of Honor at our jubilee. All eyes will be on Safety until it's over, and we do not want any of those eyes on you."
"Red Eye?" I said. "Here?"
"Oh, don't y'all be scared," she said. "It's not like that. Red Eye adores children. He just--;"
Before she could answer, a knocking sound came from the door. Knock knock knock knock knock, the knocking sound said.
"Arg," Miss Honey grumbled.
"He just what?" Said Foster.
Knock, knock, knock. The door repeated itself.
"One moment!" Miss Honey erupted at the invisible knocker on the other side. Then, with what patience she had left, turned to Foster. "Let's just say that Red Eye loves Safety so much that he'd do anything to protect it."
Glug. Cliff Diver swallowed his throat apple. "Anything?"
"Anything."
Bzzzzt. A light on Miss Honey's desk lit up.
"Ugh." She trotted over to the giant pre-war monstrosity desk - a relic that some industry mogul had perched behind (once upon a time) and passed judgment from like an emperor. She hopped up a little step stool. Mashed a button built into the desk itself. "I'm with children right now," she said. "This had better be good."
"You called me over, ma'am," a tinny voice answered.
Miss Honey pounded that button. "Come in, come in," she said. "And be quick about it."
The ancient door creaked open. In poked a beak. "I came as soon as I heard," it said.
"Glenn!" I exclaimed.
He set talon through the door, and my heart lifted. My hooves itched to take off and gallop in his direction. To throw myself under his shimmery black wing for a great big griffon hug. And to cry right into his feathers.
But a Rose Voice clobbered me from the inside of my own skull. And urged me to follow those feelings to the worst possible conclusion.
Do it, said the voice, super cynical-like. Do it! It's good for Miss Honey to see you trust in an adult. Run to him! Lessen her suspicion!
But as my hindquarters fidgeted, eager to spring into a gallop, another Rose Voice chimed in. That makes Glenn a part of it, doesn't it?
Elderberry's words sprang back into my brain. From when she'd first described emotional education as something that "taught you to be okay with everything that goes on around here."
I froze as all my Rose Voices duked it out inside my head, biting and bucking my neurons into incoherent clouds of brain dust.
And Glenn just looked at me. Clucked his tongue against the inside of his beak. Neither smile nor frown nor grimace nor laugh - an expression altogether alien to equestrian anatomy. But his eyeballs said, I'm so sorry, Rose. I'm so sorry.
"You all know Glenn, of course," said Miss Honey. "He's here to help."
Glenn nodded.
"If any of you ever feel like throwing a desk," Miss Honey continued. "Or shouting at the top of your lungs, please come to me. Or to Glenn. There are so many places in Safety where that's not only appropriate, but encouraged."
"Encouraged?" Cliff said.
"Emotional education is about finding constructive ways to let those feelings out," Glenn answered.
It was then that something in me snapped. Made me want to jump up there and flip that giant pipe organ console upside down. Like Cliff had done to his classroom desk. 'Cause this wasn't about feelings. It was about obedience. Compliance. "Ways that don't interfere with all of the slavery," I said under my breath.
And even as the words crossed my lips, I could feel Bananas Foster wince. And hope with all of her might that I would shut the hell up.
"I've arranged some emergency counseling for you three," said Miss Honey.
"I thought you wanted us to go home," Foster protested.
"I do," Miss Honey answered. "But you could really use some emotional education right now. It's best if you go with Glenn and let him help you."
Glenn swung the door open for us. Gestured at it with a wingtip. Like a gentlecolt. Or gentlegriffon. Or whatever.
None of us followed.
Glenn clucked his beak. "We're only going back to my office where we can talk more privately."
My friends and I all looked to one another. Acutely aware of the fact that our chances of meeting up with Misty before sundown were getting slimmer and slimmer.
"Do you not feel comfortable taking the walk?" Glenn asked. "Are you concerned about your peers?"
I shook my head no.
"Miss Honey?" Bananas Foster asked.
"Yes?"
"You said we're not in trouble. But we still have to get emergency education, and then go straight home? If we're not grounded, as Cliff put it, then what activities are we allowed to do?"
Miss Honey eyed all of us briefly. One last time. And sighed, "Whichever activities you're ready for. I'll trust in Glenn's judgment on that one."
The griffin swallowed his throat apple, and nodded sternly. Like this was some kinda grave responsibility.
My eyes strayed to the flag one last time, and wondered what kinda pressure Emperor Red Eye was putting on all the adults. What would happen to Glenn if he fucked up, and the mystery pegasus kid became trouble.
* * *
After we headed out, to my surprise, Glenn let us be. At least for the trot over to the Green Building, where his tiny office hid.
Cliff, Foster, and me all clustered together to talk, and...just sort of...you know...recuperate in privacy while Glenn held a respectful distance back.
"You didn't have to do that," Cliff leaned over me and whispered to Foster.
I whipped my head around nervously. But found Glenn trailing us by half a city block.
"Do what?" Said Foster.
"Join me," Cliff retorted. "In my, you know...freedom...indignation...uprising...thing."
"Well...I did," Foster replied.
Cliff took a couple more steps, letting Foster's non-answer stew in his brain for a bit as the pavement clopped against our hooves. "It was dumb of you." He leaned in closer, making a Rose Sandwich out of me. "You coulda stayed silent. You coulda stayed behind. You coulda found out more, and busted us out of whatever trouble we mighta gotten in."
"We didn't get in any trouble," Foster's voice pitched way up high, like a foal's.
"But you didn't know that," said Cliff.
Bananas cringed. Hung her head low. Kicked a pebble. Reflecting on the dangers of her actions.
Cliff was right. Playing along with history class would have been the logical thing to do. The sneaky thing to do. The Fosterish thing to do.
"Yeah," said Bananas. "Well, I guess we all let our emotions get the best of us sometimes."
Clippity clop. Clippity clop. Clippity clop. Clippity clop. Galloping hooves came barrelling around the corner, and we all fell silent.
A yellow filly emerged, saddlebag bursting with books, mouth clutching a slice of toast. 3.6 moments later, and she was gone without ever having glanced in our direction.
…
Bananas Foster was the first to exhale in relief.
"We're not some kinda public enemy," I said.
"Sure feels like it," said Cliff.
"Miss Honey is very concerned about Red Eye," Foster leaned over me and whispered. "And what he'd think if we rebelled."
Cliff pressed toward me from the other direction, and made another Rose Sandwich.
"To the kids," Foster continued. "We're still just...kids."
"We need to convince Glenn to let us go to that market," I said.
"How?" Cliff said.
"Maybe if we all just tell him... I don't know...slavery is great...or...something, he'll sign off on the trip."
"He'll never buy it," said Cliff.
"It's not about liking slavery anyway," said Foster. "It's about blending in."
The three of us fell silent. Up ahead was that happy old mural. The infirmary where Accordion Boy was being kept alive by machines that slavery had built.
We passed it slow. Reverent-like. But the happy filly painted on the wall seemed to mock me with her giant smile. Differently than before. Now I imagined those prancing hooves were perched on a mountain of bones.
I wanted to puke.
"Damnit," I said. "The lesser of two evils fucking sucks."
"Yeah," Cliff said somberly. And once that mural had passed, his lips twisted into a deep sneer. "What about the lesser ponies, you know? The ones who aren't the best of the best?!" He sing-songedly mocked Miss Mango's words. "The ones who make all of this happen." Cliff's voice trembled and trailed into a whisper, "History's losers."
I looked away from Cliff. And found Foster beside me, stoically silent. Trying damn hard not to flinch, or say anything, or show how she really felt.
This slavery stuff didn't hit her like it did us. Hell, she'd enslaved her fair share of sentient beings herself if you counted the nurses under her control.
But before I could call her out on it, Foster lunged across me. Thrust herself at Cliff and hugged him tight with her forelegs.
I stumbled to an awkward halt. Spinning around to make sure Glenn wasn't gaining on us. But he kept a respectful distance, and let us do our thing.
By the time I twisted myself back around again to Cliff and Foster, he was sobbing against her chest. She raised a forehoof o' comfort, and ran it through his hair.
"How could they do this?" Cliff wailed, mouth full of mane. "How?"
"Life just sucks that way sometimes," Foster's eyeballs drifted apologetically to mine.
"Food first," I said to myself. "Morals follow on."
The High Priestess of Trottica's words. Haunting me all over again.
I have never clicked faster on a notification in my life. This story is seriously and consistently amazing.
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I'm honored.
This is one of the fastest turnaround times I've ever had for a chapter too.
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It really is. It usually takes a few months at least. This one came out quick.
The lesser of two evils is such a hard truth to swallow, but no matter what or who, be it in the wasteland or here, you can only hope to be the lesser evil.
"Were we just supposed to live our lives like those townsponies under the reign of the cloak-o priestess? With their tchotchkes and their creepy needlepoint quotations hanging over broken fireplaces?
Were we just supposed to...go about our day? Pretend that everything was okay? Like those villagers had pretended we weren't getting tortured and murdered for gems under Trottica?"
Well... to play Red Eye's advocate here, Trottica wasn't working to build anything better. Red Eye's empire is. And right now, it's bad; from a variety of perspectives, even its best case scenario is still tainted by the evil of what will then be its history. But it's been about two hundred years since the bombs fell... and Equestria is still a wasteland. Those efforts that have taken place to really make things better, they've never taken hold. Watcher rolling the dice, over and over again, hero after hero -- and whether the victories just stayed confined to some isolated settlement or the effort failed entirely, for Equestria as a whole, the wasteland won, again and again. Red Eye, though? He is actually doing something. Successfully. The conditions for his slaves are brutal, but for the children, those he wants to inherit the future? They receive safety, health, education. Red Eye is quite possibly by far the greatest hope for the future the Equestrian Wasteland has seen since the end of the war. And, of course, from our outside perspective, we know that there really is an achievable better option; in canon, it's not even that long until the Lightbringer arrives. But the thing is, really, LittlePip was just Watcher rolling the dice again, and this time finally winning -- and pretty much no one, until a fair bit into her adventure, much less before she even set out, had a firmly-founded reason to expect someone could actually pull off what she did. So I don't blame those, in universe, who see Red Eye as a hero. After all, slavery and suffering are nothing new in the Equestrian Wasteland -- but a foundation to hope that Equestria as a whole might get some sort of healing, and soon? That the land will be healed, and even those so unfortunate to be slaves will at least have food, and work for a higher purpose, and know that some raider gang isn't going to kill their family tomorrow in service of interior decorating? That is.
(Of course, the present slaves might have some quite different opinions on the matter -- but I wasn't saying everyone in-universe should love Red Eye, just that I don't blame those who do, for reasons like the above.)
""Cliff was right. Playing along with history class would have been the logical thing to do. The sneaky thing to do. The Fosterish thing to do.""
They even had a ready explanation for Cliff's ""mistaken"" view of history: that that was what their Stable taught, as part of the experiment, obviously, we see now, don't we, Cliff, and it's a pity it didn't work out but there's no need to do anything drastic nudge nudge.
But that, of course, would have had Foster abandoning Cliff, at least temporarily, and with the state he was in then, I don't think, and don't think she thought, that he would have been nearly so clearheaded about the group's priorities and the usefulness of staying silent as he is now. And if it's a question of abandoning one of your hive, or following them into danger to try and do what you can for and with them even if you don't think they should have gone in the first place...
Winning a good victory from a position of weakness can frequently involve a period of active toleration of that one is fighting against; the revolution that jumps at every slightest provocation, giving no thought to gathering strength, organizing, or striking only at the oppressors' weak points is easily baited out and easily crushed. On the flip side, of course, a revolution that is too focused on how it's fighting over what it's fighting for can become as bad as, or worse than, what it's fighting against. For our protagonists here, the more okay they are with the situation in Fillydelphia, the less able they will be to fight against it and things like it -- but if they cannot at least be okay enough with it to take no action now, including hiding their true feelings, not only will they fail to change Fillydelphia, their larger mission will also be in danger.
And I don't recall how much they know, but if they know that Red Eye falls in the end... that than larger mission has to take precedence. Because the apparently fixed course of history within this world has already doomed Red Eye, just as it doomed Equestria before him -- and likewise, it renders fixed the suffering in his Fillydelphia before his fall, like that in the wasteland before him. But the shadows may be able to change that -- for the worse. And even if not, if they have Blueberry Milkshake outside this fixed history, what she has left of a destiny may be entirely in the hooves of our heroes here. So however little two thirds of said heroes may like it... well. See Foster's last line of dialogue in the chapter.
"I would love to hear your thoughts on it as well!"
...Well, hopefully the above brought you some joy, then? :D
(Also, of course, it naturally came to mind that the modern United States is both effectively post-apocalyptic itself from the perspective of the pre-Columbian peoples of the continent and supports the lifestyles of its better-off inhabitants via the systematic exploitation of people both within the country and around the world, many of them effectively slaves themselves.)
"I'm also thrilled to release this on the Full Moon, right on the tail of an eclipse! Praise Luna!"
Oh! Thanks! :D
I actually saw the eclipse this time, I think! I was walking outside, looked up at the moon, and thought it looked like there was an eclipse happening... but I hadn't heard about one, so I think I thought that perhaps it was an odd cloud or something and then got distracted by something else. Guess maybe it was an eclipse after all -- or an interesting coincidence where I mistakenly thought I saw one and there was a genuine one going on, at least. :D
Anyway, thanks for writing. :)
11056072
You are not wrong about how Redeye did succeeded in making more progress then anypony else has managed in the last 200 years, but, was it sustainable? There are a lot of time empires like his rise up, brutally take over and impose an order that does actually do some good overall, but then fall apart as soon as the one who created it dies. Filldelphia was only able to work due to Redeye personally using his shear will power and charisma to make sure it worked, without him... I can't see the mercenaries and brutes that ran things having the discipline to keep things going on the course they would need.
Also even his core plan had a rather major flaw that is just, one odd thing that I never quite understood how everypony made this same assumption, that a 'true alicorn' could breach the shields around the main SPP hub, because they were turned to allow Celestia and Luna to pass. But... every other bypassable shield in the Wastes had been tuned to allow specific ponies though, and the tolerances on those was so loose that it would apply to anyone closely related to them, so why did everypony jump to the conclusion that the SPP shield was tuned for 'all alicorns' rather then 'the sisters Celestia and Luna' specifically? But I digress...
One point in Redeye's favor, and I love that Miss Honey also shared it, is that he admits it's a brutal, unfair, horrible system, and is more then willing to listen to alternatives. If somepony could show him a legit better way to achieve his goals without needing to use slavery, he stood a good chance of at least trying it. They don't say 'this is fine, stop questioning it' just 'if you have a better idea, we'll talk, but if not, then don't try to break the system we have.'
11056621
re sustainability and the fate of the empire:
Aye, that is a question, though I can see a lot of people supporting it for idealistic reasons anyway -- after all, it might collapse even if they support it, but it definitely will if no one does.
As for the answer to the question, I could see it going a number of ways. To start with, of course, if Red Eye's plan was sufficiently well and fully executed, there wouldn't be an "after Red Eye", and the empire could potentially last under his rule for thousands of years. If he doesn't pull that off and dies, but lasts long enough to see the old wasteland-derived leadership replaced by people who've grown up in and then graduated his education system, I'd guess the empire at least wouldn't collapse immediately, and might still make it to the fairly long term, hundreds of years at least. But if he dies sooner than that, yeah, no, I do not think that the empire's idealistic goals would last sufficiently strongly beyond him, and would expect the empire to either collapse to infighting or be taken over by new leadership with more base motivations, endure for maybe a few decades at most under them, and then collapse -- with the remaining idealists having either abandoned it or been killed well before that.
re the "true alicorn" thing:
Ah, my memory of that is dim, these years out -- but from what you say, at least, yeah, I don't get that either.
Still, if enough of the rest of his plan worked, I think he could have gotten around that; it would have made things harder, but Equestria had working weather control long before the SPP towers, and in the meantime his systems already have had to be built with the assumption that they'll need to operate in weather outside the operators' control. The GPE is an obstacle, but they're short on resources to replenish their forces while Red Eye isn't, or won't be, if they come down to fight him he can try and beat them there, and if they don't, he can build up until he can launch an invasion.
re Red Eye admitting it and being open to better ways:
Aye, and from what I recall, as far as I can tell, he actually means it, rather than just saying it as propaganda. He's not dedicated to the system as it is, and explicitly sees it as an unpleasant but apparently necessary transitional state; if he could see a better way, he'd be doing that instead, but instead so far he seems to be getting major results where all lesser prior efforts have failed.
11057243
I'm loving this conversation. It actually reminds me a great deal of Charlemagne, who conquered all of Europe (except Spain) in the early 800's. While responsible for a great deal of bloodshed, his reign invested in art and learning, and manuscripts from this era saved a lot of ancient and early medieval texts that would have otherwise been lost to us, and to Renaissance scholars.
It fell apart the moment he died. His three sons divided the empire into separate kingdoms, and pretty much every war in the last 1200 years of Europe's history was fought over boundaries that these kingdoms initially set.
The funding for the arts and learning fell apart and the feudal system was born out of necessity, as local barons were able to exercise control better than any centralized royal power could.
11057311
"I'm loving this conversation."
Oh, good! :)
re Charlemagne:
Oh, interesting comparison; thanks! I hadn't thought of that.
And that seems like it could potentially be an interesting AU, where Red Eye beat the Enclave, outfoxed the Goddess, and started healing the Wasteland -- but doesn't achieve immortality, or quite enough power for the new generation. He gets an earlier start and/or LittlePip emerges later, and LittlePip finds a more post-post-apocalyptic Equestria where the sky is clear, the land is green, and ordinary bandits are the closest thing to raiders -- but the political situation is a highly decentralized feudal system of serf-holding warlord-descended nobility. A number of ways that could go!
(Another AU this conversation got me wondering about earlier is one where Watcher decided to take a chance on Red Eye. On the one hoof, I can definitely see why Watcher didn't want to take that chance, and I do expect Red Eye would try to get control over it and use it to further his own power. On the other, I do wonder if, if he knew that the Elements were still around, just waiting for new Bearers, and a method to restore the land was already prepared and waiting, guarded, his regime might have been less harsh than the one he raised in ignorance of Spike's secret. I kind of see it as another facet of the tragedy of his situation, really, that he was born and rose to power early enough to start his brutal empire after finding no better options, rather than being able to put his talents to use serving the more idealistic goals of the Lightbringer, but not so early that he was able to the sort of good he might have if, say, he'd already achieved alicornhood, brought his new generation into power, and started softening slavery and improving the lives of even the worst-off in the Equestrian Wasteland decades before Velvet Remedy decided to see the world. Instead, his circumstances resulted in his best efforts to help people making him one of the greatest enemies of the substantially better order unseen for two centuries but now finally starting to wake.)
(...Though, having said that, I'm also now remembering another thing, actually, from IRL history: the hypothesis that the Achaemenid Persian Empire was able to be as tolerant as it was in large part because the Assyrians had been so brutal, partly through having already wiped out many of those most likely to rebel and partly through providing a ready contrast. So maybe there was some shade of something like that going on in Fallout Equestria, too.)
11057243
And it can kind of be noted that the main reason Redeye's plans fell apart the way they did was entirely on Littlepip, and not even from her directly opposing him, but because her actions triggered the Enclave attack on the surface earlier then Redeye had wanted it and before he was ready, and also made it way larger and more intense an attack then Redeye had expected.
But as to him not planning on not being around, he kind of was, as even with the plan to become a new Goddess type being, he made clear that while he wanted to use that to take over the big picture, moving the sun and moon, running the weather, the core aspects of regulating the world, he intended to then pass the day to day operation of his empire to a worthy successor, namely Littlepip. Which, having a clear chain of succession is one way to try and prevent things from falling apart. Most of those big, major, empire that are forged by a single person, then fracture when he dies were because he either had no clear successor, and so everyone under him starts scrambling to seize what power they could after his fall (Alexander the Great's empire for example) or too many successors who end up squabbling over who should be the one to get everything (The Charlemagne example).
So even Redeye did have plans to try and make Fillydelphia last even beyond him, he just never got to reach that point due to the early Enclave arrival, and Littlepip tossing several monkey wrenches in his plans...... which as you noted was mostly because she knew a secret he did not, the Gardens. Becuase without that..... here's aother AU that I could see as fully plausible, Littlepip never finds out about the Gardens, about the true greatest hope for rebuilding Equestria, and so side with Redeye as the only one with any sort of actual plan that might work, becoming his second in command and eventual successor, working to continue the goals he's set, but also to make the regime more fair and less harsh about how it does so.
11058138
I think both of your Red Eye analyses fail to recognize the extent of his megalomania.
Yes, he was a true believer in his own rhetoric, but that rhetoric was always fundamentally self serving. He was never going to become a wise and benevolent ruler, even if some ponies benefited from his vision.
This was, for him, a holy war, and people who seek God-like power "for the benefit of others" are always only worshipping themselves.
Ah, yes. The lesser evil argument. So are we going to see a gryphon named Geralt or is Rose gonna fashion a silver shiv?
11058528
Ah, yes, good point.
Hm. I think part of this is me not remembering the events clearly, given how long it's been, and part of it being kind of unclear how much "another part of a gestalt being formed partly out of Red Eye doing what Red Eye had wanted it to do" counts as being Red Eye doing it or not.
Thanks for the reminder, though.
And yeah, that LittlePip-unknowing-of-GoE scenario sounds plausible. I mean, he was offering. If she doesn't know of anything better, what are her options? Even if she fights Red Eye and wins, what then? There is, after all, a long history of wasteland heroes who dealt with one symptom of the Equestrian Wasteland, and then failed to make any overall improvement. Does LittlePip decide to try the exact same thing, hoping that this time it's going to work because... reasons?
11058761
(Before the main reply, checking: did you mean to reply to Seraphem there, too, including the analyses in their most recent comment, or indeed just to me, referring to the multiple AUs I was pondering in mine?)
In any case, though, interesting; howso? I don't disagree about his megalomania, but I'm not sure how that conflicts with what I(/we) were saying. The future Red Eye would build seems like it'd pretty definitely worship Red Eye, yes, but he seems to be of the view that the health, prosperity, and happiness of his subjects, so long as his vital role in providing that is properly acknowledged, is a mirror to better reflect his own glory. After all, the better the lives he can give those who worship him, the greater in power and worthiness he shows himself to be, and the greater a contrast can be shown with the conditions of those who deny him. If he was the sort to think that his glory was best reflected in the size and sparkliness of his palace, the quantity and scale of statues of him all over the place, and the number of yes-mares telling him how great he was while he ignored the actual conditions of his realm, I do not think he'd have been running Fillydelphia as he was.
The moral arguments and ramifications baked into Fallout Equestria have always sparked thoughts for me, but this one is the absolute best at bringing those considerations to the fore. I mean, just look at the comment section. You don't often see this anywhere else.