California, February 1991
Bright Mac soon found out how easy it was to get lost in an airport. Not knowing whether to head to baggage claim or passport control, he got hopelessly, hopelessly lost, taking almost an hour to navigate LAX.
Eventually, however, he did find his way out, and walked blinking into the afternoon light.
“Where can Ah find taxis?” he asked, as he dragged his suitcase as much as he could behind him.
“The rank is over there, sir,” an airport employee told him.
After an uneventful taxi trip, Mac walked into San Fernando station, the southern terminus of the California Coast Railroad. It had a huge, vaulting roof and a large concourse, and was quite simply the largest open space that Mac had ever seen. He walked over to the ticket office and waited in line.
“Good afternoon, sir,” said the ticket attendant.
“Hi,” Mac replied. “How much for a train to Canterlot?”
“10 dollars sir.”
Mac was astounded at the cheap price, but that was one of the benefits of low taxation. He paid his money and headed to the platforms, where 20 trains were either arriving, departing, or about to depart.
Mac boarded his train and stuck his bags in the luggage rack, and sat down with the Beach Boys going through his head. This was his first ever trip to California, and it was very different to West Virginia, to say the least. What were these palm trees he’d so much about? He’d only ever seen them in books before.
There was a jolt as the train got underway, hauled by an old GP-38 that sounded like it was on its last legs. The train sped through the terrain made famous by the Central Pacific, sped through towns, and up through the Needles.
After a stop at a place called Crystal City, the train raced onward, passing a slow-moving coal train pulled by a UP Challenger on one side, and an express pulled by a Class 55 on the other. The noise was deafening, especially when a heavy fruit train charged through with a Big Boy on the front.
At long last, Canterlot was reached, the end of the line as the extension to a place called Cloudsdale was still being built. Mac grabbed his bags and headed out into the station concourse, walking into the café as he wanted something quick to eat.
“Hello!” called the proprietor. Mac walked over to the counter and saw a woman with blue skin and pink hair standing behind the counter.
“Afternoon,” Mac said, removing his hat and smiling.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before,” the woman replied. “My name’s Chiffon Swirl.”
“Bright Mac,” Bright replied. “Ah’m here on a work placement with a man called Grand Pear.”
“Oh, Grand!” Chiffon replied. “He’s a nice man.” She smiled. “I’m working here to save up enough money for me and my boyfriend to open a shop of our own. But what would you like today?”
Mac studied the menu intently. “A latte and millionaire shortbread, please,” he replied.
“Coming right up!”
The station canteen was remarkably full, and Mac bustled about looking for somewhere to sit. At last, he found an empty seat, at a partly full table. “Do ya mind if Ah sit here?” he asked a man behind a newspaper.
The newspaper was lowered, to reveal a man with pale blue skin and rainbow coloured hair. He had yellow eyes, a green shirt, blue pants and a pair of brown shoes. Seated next to him was a woman with light blue skin, red hair, and purple eyes. She wore a yellow blouse, red pants, and a pair of red shoes.
“Sure, you can sit here!” the man said, with a smile. He extended his hand. “I’m Bow Hothoof, nice to meet you!”
“Bright Mac,” Mac replied.
“Nice to meet you, Mr Mac,” the woman smiled. “I’m Windy Whistles, and this man is my husband.”
“Nice ta meet ya both too,” Mac replied.
“So,” Bow said with a smile, “what are ya doin’ here? I haven’t seen you before.”
“Ah’m on a work placement with a Mr Grand Pear.”
Windy whooped. “Lucky you! Grand Pear and his pear farm is a pillar of the local community, assuming that rival firm doesn’t drive him out of business.”
“I hope you enjoy life in Pearville,” Bow added, sipping his coffee. “It’s a beautiful place, with acres of open land and trees. Not to mention his collection of vintage tractors.”
“Well, it sure was swell meetin’ ya, but Ah need ta be on mah way,” Bright told them. “Ah need ta make a good impression.”
“See you around!” Bow smiled. He then turned to his wife. “I wonder if he’ll be sticking around.”
“Bow!” Windy replied. “There is no guarantee we’ll have any kids, so don’t plan for potential playmates!”
Bright boarded a streetcar, and took a seat, only to be joined by a fellow with a considerable beard.
“Hello!” he jovially boomed. “Are you new in town?”
“Yes sir, Ah am,” Bright replied.
“My name’s Dark Steel!” the man replied. “I’m a steel magnate, which is in the name really, and I’ve only just arrived here. I bought the estate down there, see, and we’ve got a full workshop in which to make things.”
“Well, Ah’ve made some parts for steam locos where Ah’m from,” Mac told him. “Ah live in Cass, and Ah’m here on a temporary work placement at Pearville.”
“Pearville?” asked a voice, and a man in front of them turned around. He had brown skin and black hair, complemented with blue eyes, and was wearing a blue suit with a red tie that had a dollar sign on it. “I do business with them. Their produce positively flies off the shelves at Barnyard Bargains stores across the state, and boy does it help keep up in the black.”
He extended a hand. “I’m Mr Rich.”
“Bright Mac,” Mac replied.
“Oh, don’t tell me he’s another of these ‘country folk’,” said the woman seated next to him. She had pink skin and purple hair, paired with blue eyes. She wore a blue dress and gold heels, and looked at everyone with a permanent sneer of disapproval.
“There’s no need to be rude!” said Dark Steel.
“Sorry about that,” Rich replied. “This is my wife, Spoiled Milk.”
“Spoiled Rich!” she corrected. “We’ve been married long enough.”
Rich continued. “We live on that estate just outside of town.”
“You live opposite me, don’t you?” asked Dark Steel.
“Yes indeed, and I’ve got railroadin’ plans for the garden.”
Spoiled shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, I told you to get rid of those engines.”
“No, you only told me to take them out of the house,” Rich answered. “You never said anything about putting them in the garden. Besides, I need something to show our kids.”
Spoiled Rich looked horrified. “If you think I am having children you are sorely mistaken!”
Dark Steel spoke up. “I’ve nearly got the A4 Pacific you ordered finished, it’ll be ready on Saturday.”
“Excellent!” Rich cried. Just then the streetcar came to a stop.
Mac got off, as it was his stop. “See ya!” he said.
Rich smiled. “I sense the start of a beautiful financial relationship,” he smiled.
Mac walked up the road to Pearville, seeing a large green farmhouse and multiple barns scattered around the site, with trees everywhere you looked. Mac walked toward the house and was greeted by an older man.
He had orange skin and brown hair, and wore a blue shirt and jeans. “You took your sweet time gettin' here,” he told Mac.
“Sorry Ah’m late,” Mac replied. “Are ya Mr Grand Pear?”
“Yes, I am,” Grand Pear replied. “You’ll be stayin’ in the bunkhouse over there. Breakfast is at 07:00 sharp, lunch is at 12:00, and dinner is 17:00. If possible, drop off your things and get to work as soon as you can.”
“Yes sir! Ah won’t let ya down sir!” Mac sped away and deposited his things on his bed. He then headed out again to ask what he needed to do.
“Right now, we’ve got a shaker that’s havin’ mechanical issues,” Pear told him. “I here you’ve got expertise in machines, so I’d like you to take a look.”
“Yes sir!” Mac said, and headed off toward the shaker. He found it easily enough.
There was a woman trying to get it to work, who had peach coloured skin and orange hair. She was wearing a green shirt and blue jeans, combined with brown work boots. She had a wrench in her hand and was adjusting the bolts to try and get it to run.
“Come one, work you!” she growled, exasperated. But it wouldn’t cooperate.
“Darn it!” she said, and looked up to see Mac looking at her.
She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
“Howdy,” she said. “You the new kid?”