Hmm. Is this thing on? Oh, there's the red light. Ahem.
My name is... well, I don't actually have a name. Nopony does. We're just serial numbers. I am- er, was- serial number MD3-225780-71. The 'M' stands for 'Mare'. The 'D3' stands for 'District 3', where I'm from. The '225780' part is my unique code and the '71' stands for the year I was conceived in. Our unique codes are the only thing unique about any of us. Every mare looks the same. Same for stallions too. Your identical look depends on what district you're from.
Let me start over, from the beginning. Not that it really matters. They'll find me and this recording, exile me to the Wasteland- not that that matters either, I'm going there on my own- and destroy this recording. If, somehow, both this recording and I survive, then you'll know the truth or what I know to be the truth so far. This country has many secrets. Unfathomable ones, I imagine, that not even I- a mare who's refused her pills for a week- have been able to uncover. Information is all but impossible to claw from their tightfisted hooves.
I'll start with the districts. At some point in history, Equestria was divided into a total of five districts. Each one has their own factory that produces the pills widely and ignorantly consumed by the masses of that district. Each district has its particular look for mares and stallions. For example, the mares of District 3 have pale blue coats, pale blonde manes styled into neat buns and dark red eyes. The stallions there have pale purple coats, pale blue manes styled into simple, straight cuts and dark green eyes. Both genders are unicorns. We're not allowed to freely go to the other districts unless explicitly ordered by Blackcoats, who get their orders from the Overmare. No Blackcoats- those are police ponies, by the way- have ever ordered me to go to another district, so I couldn't really tell you what the other mares and stallions look like. I do know, though, for a fact that the looks of mares and stallions differ between districts.
The pills I keep mentioning are what makes us look the same. They're what keeps us brainwashed. They completely eliminate free will and enable seamless manipulation. We- they- take one purple pill and one yellow pill. They're taken together with water or swallowed dry and four times a day, although trying to swallow them dry always makes me gag. They're advertised as 'Retla Pills' on billboards and posters. If you take the time to stop and think about it, 'Retla' is just the word 'Alter' backward and 'alter' is exactly what they do. Alter our looks and state of mind. It just seems so obvious, right? Just as plain as the noses on our faces? When you're brainwashed like the rest of the population, they won't let you think, they won't let you question anything at all and they certainly won't allow you to do things on your own free will.
Let me tell you a bit about life in the districts. We nameless ponies live with families who we're not even related to. They go out of their way to make sure the filly and colt given to each paired stallion and mare are not from the same birth mother. I'm not entirely sure when it first started, but at some point, a lottery system was used to pair a mare and a stallion together once they turn twenty. Nothing fancy, just the signing of some papers and then the two move into a cookie cutter house. After a certain amount of time, the two are given one filly and one colt.
The newborns are essentially mass-produced, sort of like the Retla pills. I'm not quite sure just yet of how it got started, but I know now that half of the mares and stallions born each year are kept in the Fertility Houses of each district. There, they are raised solely for the purpose of replacing the previous breeders and to continue the cycle of mass reproduction. I've found evidence that previous breeders are discarded like trash. They're no longer of use, so they kill them- or so I speculate- and discard them into the Wasteland.
Once you reach the ripe age of eighteen, you and your fellow eighteen-year-olds are taken to your district's Ceremony Hall for something called the 'Great Assignment'. During the Great Assignment, your career for life is chosen in a similar lottery style as the assigning of couples. When I turned eighteen, I was given a janitorial role. How quaint, am I right? I'm sure at this point you're probably thinking it's not so bad. Well, you'd be wrong. It's worse. There is no love, no friendship. Just fake, empty smiles and unknowingly forced happiness. No one says 'I love you' anymore. We have no friends. Even in your own home with your own family, you'll hardly know each other. Acknowledgment of one another is all but nonexistent. I suppose that's mostly the result of the many strict laws we're brainwashed into following.
Work days between spouses alternate. If the mare works Monday, the stallion works Tuesday and so on and so forth. On the days that one spouse is not working, they take care of the house. Cook, clean, shop for groceries, take care of the children, et cetera. Once children turn thirteen, parents pretty much stop raising them and make them care for themselves. Children go to school for eight hours a day, come home, complete their homework and then do their share of the chores. That pretty much entails cleaning their rooms and doing yard work. The only pastimes anypony is allowed is reading books approved by the Overmare and her Senate, sewing, knitting, approved puzzles, casual sports and board games. None of it is fun. Fun, love and friendship are essentially nonexistent now, just the way the Overmare likes it, I'm sure.
Oh, this has a time limit? I've only got three minutes left?? Seriously? Dammit. Fine, I'll make this quick. Erm, let's see. Ah, the Wasteland. Long story short, the Wasteland is the area beyond the walls of District Five. Everything they don't want a part of their cookie cutter society is discarded there, that includes ponies who have defected from the populace in one way or another. Any information or technologies from before Equestria became so cookie cutter is most likely there too. That's why, when I'm done with this recording, I'm packing up what belongings I have- mostly just food, maybe some puzzles- and I'm going to travel to the Wasteland. Everything I've explained thus far is all I've uncovered, but if I make it intact to the Wasteland and find something else to record with, I'll update my findings.
Right now, as I'm making this recording, the year is 2606. My husband is SD3-225718-71. My daughter is MD3-442389-91 and my son SD3-442343-91. I know once they realize I've disappeared, they'll send in a replacement wife and successfully manage to erase my existence from their memories. They might not have been birthed from my womb, but they are my children and I... love them. I love my husband too. They might not love me back, and that's okay. It's... it's not their fault, but I sincerely hope someday they'll stop to question what's going on around them. It's my sincere hope this fabricated, cookie cutter bullshit society comes to a crumble.
I think I'm just about out of time. This is MD3-225680-71... no. Freebird. This is Freebird signing off.