Perspective: Locomotion
The day of the accident started out very much like any other. Having risen from the realm of the subconscious, I spent the morning and most of the afternoon in school, just the same as all my other friends. While I was there, I caught up with them on what was going on in their lives and checked with them if they would be able to make my birthday party; most of them replied in the affirmative, but Lickety-Split couldn't because he and his parents were off to Baltimare that week, and Noi was scheduled to go visit her aunt and uncle too. But no matter – I still had plenty of guests on the list.
The only thing that really bothered me about that up and coming gig was how depressed Vinyl had seemed a few days previously. She and I had met up again after school the previous afternoon so we could finalise what tunes she would be playing, and she actually seemed pretty okay; but it didn't stop me worrying that something wasn't right in her world. That said, it was probably to do with being asked to DJ at some other gig at the last minute, and between going through music with me and picking out a suitable playlist for this other party – some kind of wedding reception, I think she said it was – she was probably a little stressed out. On the plus side, at least she seemed to take a reasonable interest in my line of work – even if it took her a while to get round all the technical details!
Anyway, there's not really much to say about my lessons that day, other than that I would have preferred the Age of Industry for my history class over the early years of Equestria. Diamond Tiara didn't seem too enthusiastic about it either – in fact, I could have sworn she'd brushed it off as boring – but at least I had the common sense to keep my opinions to myself, unlike that trumped-up excuse for an aristocrat!
As soon as school had finished, I headed straight back home, dropped off my saddlebag and grabbed a quick snack before heading out of the house again. But me being Equestrian National Railways' youngest employee and all, it's not simply to play a game of tag or whatever with my friends – nope, I was playing a completely different game, starting from the very moment I arrived on shed.
Ponyville MPD is only about ten minutes away from where I live, so I was there by ten minutes to four. As I was signing on, the Motive Power Superintendent, Max Pressure, came up to me and said, “Hullo, Loco! How are you, young fella?”
“I'm okay, thanks,” I replied. “How about you? Everything running smoothly here?”
“Yeah, pretty much. We did have a bit of a staffing problem when one of my fireponies called in sick yesterday, but at least he's on the mend now.”
“Oh, well that's something,” I remarked. To be honest, the news that one of Ponyville's resident engine-ponies was ill had me a little worried for a second there; without a suitable relief, the whole timetable could be affected by his absence. But that worry was quickly brushed aside as I remembered something else. “Oh yeah, that reminds me – how's the 'City of Cloudsdale' doing at the moment?”
“City of Cloudsdale”, I should point out, was away at Hoofington for overhaul at the time, so Uncle Steamer had been assigned to freight duties until she returned home. We had hoped that she would be back in time for my birthday, but with all the work that needed doing to her, I kinda feared that this wouldn't be the case.
“Still under repair, I'm afraid,” Max answered gravely, at which point I could only stare down at my hooves in disappointment. He then chuckled heartily and went on to say, “Don't worry, Loco – she'll still be able to make your birthday, and so will I.”
“Boy, am I glad to hear that,” I mused with a sigh of relief. But it wasn't just about “City of Cloudsdale”; since Max Pressure himself had talked the authorities into allowing me into the railways' employment on Uncle Steamer's behalf, he was perhaps one of the most important ponies in my whole life, so it was only natural that I should invite him to my party. “No way would my birthday be complete without you or my favourite engine around.”
“As if I'd have it any other way!” chortled Max. “You make plenty of time for cleaning duties, so it's only fair that we make time for you in return.”
“Fair point,” I agreed with a hearty grin. “Anyway, talking of cleaning; what's my first job?”
“Well, we've just had a visitor come in from Wyomane that needs to be readied for her return run. We've got Oily Rag and Steel Polish working on the old girl, but I thought I'd give my youngest employee a chance too. You up for it then?”
I looked back towards the running shed behind, and grinned broadly when I saw a massive 4-6-6-4 locomotive idling peacefully on the far right. “I love a Challenge-er!” That's the name of the class to which that engine belonged – Challenger.
“Okay then, Loco,” laughed Max, visibly amused, “I'll leave you to it. See you later, kiddo,” and he strode cheerfully back to his office while I went to make a start on the Challenger.
Cleaning an engine is no trip to the seaside, especially on something as big and heavy as a Challenger where you've got twice as much locomotive to work on; but I enjoy it nonetheless, and having something in Ponyville that you don't normally see this side of Canterlot made it all the more worthwhile. With three cleaners working on the same engine, we had the Challenger ready to head home within about two hours, by which time her crew had already returned to take her away. Both stallions were pretty impressed with how well a little colt like me had managed on such a gigantic machine as this, and after thanking us for tending to their engine, they backed her out of the shed and set off towards the goods yard to collect her next train.
After that, I went and did a few odd jobs around the depot for the next half-hour or so. Rural though Ponyville may be, there's always something to keep us busy at the depot even if we don't have anything to clean, be it shovelling on the coaling stage, tapping an engine's wheels and rods with a hammer to check for faults, or just checking the trackwork around the site. I brought out a wheelbarrow full of hammers, jacks, pick-axes and other tools for some “platelayers”, as we call them in the trade, returned with a few life-expired bolts and spikes from the siding they were repairing, helped another driver oil round his engine, and then I went to go grab a bite to eat in the depot canteen.
Once I had eaten, I returned to the shed and helped Oily Rag prepare No. 2509 “City of Coltenburg” for a late-night passenger turn. The long-distance trains, both freight and passenger, often stop here in Ponyville to change engines, so we have to maintain a decent stock of locomotives to cover all traffic requirements, including at least four express engines. “City of Cloudsdale” is just one of them, but others on Ponyville MPD's books at the time were “City of Coltenburg”, No. 2549 “City of Las Pegasus”, No. 2527 “City of Neigh Orleans” and two of the older Castle Class; No. 2405 “Ponyville Castle”, and No. 2412 “Trottingham Castle”.
Tonight, the prestigious Bridleway Limited would be stopping here on its way to Manehattan. It was “Coltenburg's” turn to pull the train, so Oily and I had to have her spic and span by around 10pm. Even though there were only two of us this time round, we managed to get her in pristine condition after just two and a quarter hours, after which Oily went to sign himself off before heading down to the nearby tavern. I, meanwhile, went outside to see if Uncle Steamer had returned yet; in “City of Cloudsdale's” absence, he had been placed in charge of Mustang Class 2-10-0 No. 729. A bit incongruous for a top-link driver, if you ask me, but at least it kept him busy.
Uncle Steamer had been working a mixed goods train back to Ponyville from Fort Maine that day, and as luck would have it, was just bringing the 729 back onto shed as I came out. He brought the engine to a halt just across the depot from the sheds and waved cheerfully in my direction, whereupon I trotted over to him.
“Hullo, Uncle Steamer,” I called as I reached his cab. “How was your journey?”
“Not bad, I guess,” he says. “Yourself?”
“Yeah, I'm good. Just finished getting the 'City of Coltenburg' ready – and you won't believe what came into our yard earlier today!” I replied eagerly.
Uncle Steamer chuckled as he got down from the footplate. “Surprise me,” he challenged casually.
So while Uncle Steamer starts oiling round, I'm standing there and telling him about this engine that came here from the other side of the country – and I tell you what, he was really amazed when I mentioned that it was a Challenger. I didn't quite get his full response, however, because at that moment, Max came across the depot and stopped next to the 729 with a serious look on his face.
“I've just had a call from San Fratello regarding the No. 651 Block Coal,” he told us. “One of the engines at the head of the train has failed, and we need the 729 to bank her up the grade as far as Buckskin Head.”
Uncle Steamer seemed uncertain. “Well, I don't mind working a few hours overtime,” he replied doubtfully, “but I don't know if Promontory can cope after an eight-hour shift on a mixed freight run.”
Promontory, I should point out, is Uncle Steamer's regular firepony, and with “City of Cloudsdale” out of commission, he too had been having to make do with the lesser runs until the old girl could be brought home again. But firing a heavy freight engine, oddly enough, takes a heck of a lot of effort compared with an express loco, so I was hardly surprised when I looked into the cab and saw him wearily mopping sweat from his brow.
“I'm aware of that,” replied Max gravely, “but yours is the only engine available at such short notice, and we must clear the road for the Bridleway Limited. You'll just have to make do with your nephew as a backup.”
“Why Loco?” objected Uncle Steamer. “There's no way he'd be able to fling in the same amount of coal that Promontory can – he's only a colt after all.” He then gives me an apologetic look and says, “No offence.”
“None taken,” I replied reasonably, “but in fairness, Uncle Steamer, I am a unicorn, and I do know simple levitation spells. All we need is for me to hold the shovel aloft with my magic, and then Promontory can fling in the coal as he sees fit.”
Max nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a plan,” he mused. “You're sure you'll be able to manage, Loco?”
“I'll do my best, sir,” I promised.
“Good,” said Max. “That settles it. You'd better get a move on then; that coal train should be arriving in less than twenty minutes.”
None of us had any intention on dawdling, of course, so as soon as the Super' was done talking, we scrambled back into the cab and set to work preparing for our impromptu banking turn. Within only a quarter of an hour, the engine had been turned, the brasses oiled and the tender replenished, and we crossed over to the goods yard just as the coal train entered the reception sidings at around 9:07pm.
The No. 651 Block Coal is one of the heaviest freight workings on this part of the network, and generally requires three engines to bring it across the Buckskin Mountain section between Ponyville and the town of Delamare, which takes the main line to an elevation of 7,015 hooves above sea level at Winsome Peak Summit. Today, only two were actually on the train, both of them Mustangs from Trottingham MPD. We paused for a few minutes while Max briefed us and the crews of the leading engines on what we would be doing, and once he was finished, Uncle Steamer brought the 729 round to the back of the train. Then, with me guiding him, he gently buffered her up behind the brake van and waited while I returned to the cab.
“It's going to be a pretty long shift, Loco – and a tough one too,” he said as I clambered aboard. “I hope you're feeling up to it.”
“You can rely on me, Uncle Steamer,” I replied emphatically.
Uncle Steamer chuckled and ruffled my mane affectionately. “That's my boy,” he cajoled.
At that very same moment, we heard the deep, throaty blast of the leading engines' whistles. Uncle Steamer replied with his own, and slowly but surely, the coal train, with our engine pushing behind, steamed determinedly out of the yard, over the points and onto the open line.
Perspective: Vinyl
Entry 3710 and a bit more
9:56pm
Boy, what a day this has been. The wedding guests and the happy couple like really enjoyed themselves at that party, and the bride was kinda gushing over how much she loved my music and this, that and the other, which was like real cool, man – but there was just so much about that reception that kinda made me think. Mostly about what things might have been like if me and Tavi had stayed together and stuff. I mean, yeah, if I stayed with her, my cruddy parents would have really gotten under my skin, but at least I'd still have somepony around who I really love. Those two ponies what just got married are real lucky that way.
I didn't even bother stopping for dinner because there was more than enough party food for them to offer me a plate before I went home, which was nice of them. Just as well, seeing as I've got so much stuff to carry back to my pad – and nopony to say “Welcome home, Vinyl” as soon as I walk in through the door. Why does my life have to be so lonely?
Anyway, just a quick update on how things are going – got to Rainbow Falls Station okay, and they actually had a luggage compartment this time, so that was good. But as soon as we were about halfway, we had to slow down for a cow on the line, and we got in around ten minutes late, which is a little rotten, but I still had well over half an hour to wait for the Ponyville train, so that was okay. Had a bit of an accident with my equipment, though, because my saddlebag opened up by itself just as I was getting off, and the train staff had to go ducking under the coaches so they could get my records back. I sure as hay hope they ain't damaged.
So yeah, I'm on my way home now, and I tell you what, I am well exhausted. I'm gonna need a serious lie-in tomorrow at this rate.
Perspective: Octavia
If I had been hoping for an easy night after all that had happened in the dining car that evening, I was to be sorely disappointed; for while I was reassured that there was still a chance that she might yet return to my life, she was still plaguing my thoughts after I had turned in. I didn't want to disturb any of the others since they were probably sound asleep by then, so I decided instead to take a promenade to the observation car and back in the hope of clearing my head.
All was quiet out in the corridor, save for the metallic hum and the hypnotic rhythm of the wheels over the rail joints. Occasionally the locomotive would add to the composition with a regal wail of its whistle, indicating that we were approaching a crossing, a station or a tunnel, and the sight of the dimly lit countryside dancing past the windows seemed to add to the peaceful, gentile atmosphere. I may not have been much of a train fanatic, but even I will readily admit that the mere sight of one racing through pastures green and prairies golden has a certain romance all to itself.
But even the romance of a train journey can be disturbed sometimes, when a yellow signal light or the final approach to a station slows the shooting star until it becomes a mere drifting cloud. It was just as I had reached the last coach before the observation car that I felt our pace beginning to slacken, and looking out of the window, I noted a sprawl of sheds and additional tracks on either side of the train. Beyond these lay a cluster of endearingly rustic residential buildings of various shapes and sizes, with a tall oak tree just visible over the rooftops. It looked very much like something I had seen in one of my travel brochures once; but I couldn't quite place my hoof on where.
The train came to a complete stop as I entered the observation lounge, and I looked out of the window again to ascertain our location. The station wasn't all that well illuminated (quite naturally, I thought to myself, for there would hardly be any passengers awaiting their train at this time of night), but I could just make out the name of the station as Ponyville Central. I allowed myself a small smile at the realisation that we had broken our journey in the very home-town of the Guardians of Harmony, and for a while, I couldn't help but wonder how my dear cousin was keeping herself. Not often did I get the chance to meet up with her, and never once had I actually visited this town. Perhaps it might be an idea if, at some point, I could actually arrange a little sojourn to Ponyville and see for myself what life was like for Pinkie Pie and her friends. If only I could have known just how soon that would be.
I was still feeling a little restless at that time, so after gazing upon this beautiful, bucolic backwater for a few minutes, I turned and headed back towards the front of the train. The onboard catering staff were busily loading extra provisions aboard the service car as I passed through, and to the right of the train, I could see the engine backing briskly towards its shed, presumably for some well-earned rest. If only sleep could come to me as easily as to a locomotive, I thought unhappily, for I was still no wearier now than when I had turned in. Oh well, perhaps some light refreshment in the bar coach would help. I would have to give my teeth another good clean afterwards, but if it helped me sleep, then so be it.
The minutes ticked slowly by as I sat solemnly in the lounge, gently sipping away at a sweet Martini. Another engine came clanking past, and I could see from the headboard that this was the one which would be conveying us on the next stage of our journey to Manehattan. It was almost identical to the other engine, and I also noticed that both were named after Equestrian cities; the first one was named after Fillydelphia, and this one bore the name “City of Coltenburg”. Quite an interesting theme, I mused.
After around half an hour of waiting, another train pulled into the other platform. It was little more than a slow passenger train, so I paid it little mind at first, opting instead to obtain another Martini – but shortly after I returned to my seat, the most extraordinary thing happened. The other train had only just left, and at this point, I couldn't help but gaze curiously around at my surroundings. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw...her. That stunning white unicorn with her amazingly unkempt mane and magenta eyes, and those trademark shades of hers perched over her forehead – nothing like the Linsey Woolsey I used to know, but still far more beautiful than I could ever have bargained for. She was working frantically and hastily to gather her belongings together, and for a fleeting moment, I was sorely tempted to pursue her, just so that I might at least verify that this was the same pony. But my entire person seemed to lock solid at the mere sight of her, and by the time I managed to encourage myself to move, the train was already drawing out of the station, and I could only watch in dismay as the shutter slowly descended over my window of opportunity.
Not that it really mattered, I tried in vain to console myself, for I had nothing to gain from breaking my journey so abruptly. She was probably far too famous to even notice me by now, and I couldn't afford to let the Bridleway Company down at any rate, even at my own expense – they were surely onto a winner with their new musical, and as they say in theatrical circles, the show must go on. It was just a pity Harpo couldn't respect that; but then Harpo was but a lone, unheard voice among a far greater demographic, and his opinion of the theatre was of little consequence to the broader social interest.
As the town faded away into countryside once again, I found myself staring wistfully up at the moon, watching it drift serenely above the quiet, darkened land with countless stars twinkling softly all around it. I broke out into a solemn refrain, softly reflecting on the calmness and lack of stress in all the millennia of its existence, and how I wished my own life could be that little bit easier. Yes, I had finally seen her in person after ten long years, but only very briefly, and there would be little hope of being able to talk to her even if she did remember me. Was this how my life was meant to be? Was I truly destined to drift through an endless sea of sorrow and regret, my log book riddled with laments about what might have been?
Perspective: Vinyl
Entry OMG I think I'm going crazy!
Something o'clock at night
No way! This can't be happening! I seriously did not see what I thought I saw about twenty minutes ago or whatever! It's all just a crazy dream! It must be!
Got into Ponyville at about eleven at night, got off the train, got my stuff out of the break coach thingy, train pulled out while I was sorting it all out, and when I looked up, there was this other train waiting right the other side of the station – and that's when I saw this grey mare sitting in like the bar coach! It can't possibly be Tavi! There's no way it could be her! I mean, yeah, she looked like Tavi in like every single detail, but no way could that have been her sitting in that train! I must be losing my mind or something! Somepony wake me up! I can't take too much more of this!
Why is it that everything around me seems to remind me of her now?! And why are those flipping parents of mine creeping into my thoughts as well?! Can't they just get the hell outta my head and leave me alone! I need sleep!
Ugh, this is useless! I need to go grab myself a few beers!
[The following text consists of crossed out drunken ramblings. The publishers have attempted to interpret these to the best of their abilities, but cannot guarantee an accurate transcription]
Tavi, babe, you bring much wubs to my cute little liver and I can't ask for a better pony than you to be my special somepony who fills my brain. Those weirdos what born me into this thingy can go destroy themselves if they think I'm gonna go make cloth for their posh friends, so take that, you stuffed toys! You want carpet, Crazy Diego got carpet! I got nothing, no friends, no family, just some wonderful sick beats and a cosy little apartment with all the wubs that a wonderful mare with a pink note thingy can come over and play the violin thing with me all night long. I'm a lonely little lady and I hate you so much for shoving my life down the storm gutter.
You wanna know something, diary? I'm such a cuddly little imbecile that I could just swallow a whole doughnut served with chips. If I'd known you was gonna come to life, I would have brought some bread along, and we could have had some soldiers, and that pink elephant can go stuff himself up the chimney if he don't like it. Dunno where I put my trousers, because somepony just burped in my face with a cannon, and now I got some shiny sharp stuff on the floor. Thank you so much for speaking random, little breezies, you are so tasty I could just hug your pollen and not even bother go to school because I am so weird. Anyways, you want the sweet shop, you better go find the lolly first, or you're not gonna be awesome enough to say hi to a sparrow. You make me feel so love~[long pen mark, presumably the result of Vinyl passing out]
Perspective: Locomotion
The job of boosting those two engines and their coal trucks up the gradient definitely wasn't an easy one, that much was obvious before I even thought about volunteering for such a job at short notice. At a total distance of around 50 miles with a ruling gradient of 1 in 85 for most of the way, the climb from Ponyville to Buckskin Head, 6,902 hooves up, is one of the most difficult sections of main line in Equestria, so even the most capable engines find it rather taxing, especially with heavy loads. Throughout the journey, I kept an eye on the coal train and the line ahead from the right-hoof side of the cab, using my magic to help Promontory keep his shovel aloft at the same time while he transferred the coal from tender to firebox.
But even the use of magic to assist with shovelling can be pretty hard work, and by the time we reach Horseshoe Curve, about 55 miles out from Ponyville, I'm so tired I can hardly concentrate. Fortunately, we're approaching the head of the climb by this point, so it's not long before the gradient starts to ease off.
“That's it,” said Uncle Steamer, easing back the regulator. “We're nearly over the top now.”
“Aw, good,” I panted, leaning heavily against the cabside. I was exhausted by this time; that firing turn had really knocked me for six, and not only was I short of breath, but my fur was absolutely matted with sweat. All the same, I was more than satisfied with my own efforts, especially when I heard the two engines upfront whistling their thanks. As the coal train's tail lights receded into the darkness, I nodded modestly with a quiet reply of “You're welcome,” and then sat back as we coasted effortlessly along behind them.