//------------------------------// // Авангардом пролетариата! // Story: And then there was that one time Trixie became a communist // by Blarghalt //------------------------------// Trixie, now fully accepted by her new comrades, was being given a tour of the college. She trotted behind Hammer Jammer, who pointed out various rooms and explained their function. “Canterlot Commonwealth College was created as an alternative to the more, ahem, traditional venues of higher education. Here, we value the and shape the labor leader of tomorrow!” he explained. They both passed the brown earth pony that Trixie had asked directions from before, and he waved. “Hello!” the janitor called as they walked by. “Greetings, Bookit!” replied Hammer Jammer, giving him a half-salute. When they rounded a corner and Trixie believed he was out of earshot, she walked closer to Hammer Jammer and leaned toward him, “Bookit's kind of an odd name for a janitor pony. He even had a book cutie mark.” Hammer Jammer gave her an offended look and appeared as though he was about to say something nasty, but regained his composure, “Oh, I suppose it's my fault for not explaining. This still must be all very new to you, yes? Bookit's our professor of Social Equesthropology.” “Then why was he-” “We don't employ janitors here. All of the professors contribute to the upkeep of the school.” Hammer Jammer turned around as he said this, “Speaking of which, have you considered enrolling here? Ignoring what those idiots up there at Canterlot University say about us, we do offer a very good magic program.” “The G-” Trixie started once again, but closed her eyes and chided herself with a grunt, “I'm self-taught, actually.” Hammer Jammer smiled, “Ooh, excellent! Excellent! It's very fortunate for the proletariat that you were delivered to us!” Trixie opened her mouth to tell him that she didn't understand about half of what Hammer Jammer and his friends said. She even faintly suspected that they made up the word 'proletariat' just to mess with her. “Now,” Hammer Jammer announced as they stopped in front of an office door, “this is where I spend most of my time when I'm not furthering the cause.” He turned around to see Trixie standing there with a bewildered expression. Concerned, he tilted his head a bit, “Are you alright, comrade?” Trixie replied with silence. What the heck was a comrade, anyway? Hammer Jammer gave a small grin, “You know, you remind me of myself. Young, willing to learn, and just exposed to the literature of the worker, like Trot Sky.” Trixie was beginning to think her agreement to the struggle of the worker may have been just a teeny tiny bit peer pressure-related, and a worm of doubt began to creep into her brain. Faster than she could repress it, the niggling reminder that she hadn't actually read any radical leftist literature overtook her brain. “Trotswho?” she blurted out, her own mouth betraying her. Hammer Jammer's face contorted into pure confusion as he tried to process what she just said. He did a small double-take before returning to normal, “You are joking, right?” Well, it was out in the open now. “No,” she muttered. “You're telling me you haven't read a word of Trot Sky?” Trixie shook her head, and Hammer Jammer rubbed his. “What about Rich Angle or Marker Lark? Surely you've at least covered the basics!” She had blown it. Now her new friend was yelling at her, and was probably about to call security and have her tossed out of the college. Once again, she had ruined everything by running her big mouth. Her mind began piling blame upon itself as her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh...my,” Hammer Jammer sighed as he walked up next to Trixie and gave her a consoling pat on the back, “If there's one thing I hate almost as much as the bourgeoisie, it's seeing another comrade cry.” Trixie wiped away some tears and looked at Hammer Jammer, who showed no sign of judgement. “Come on,” he said, “If you haven't read any of them, then there's always a good time to start. I've always found it very fascinating watch a revolutionary take their first steps into a bigger world.” He motioned for her to follow him, and he obliged. He walked a little further down the hall and turned a corner before entering a door on the right, with Trixie right behind him. The entrance led into a small, almost cramped library. Even with its cozy rooming, several other ponies were inside, their attention totally devoted to the absolute tomes they had splayed out in front of them. Using his magic, Hammer Jammer picked up a book from the shelf close to the door. It was a thick brown thing, and looked like it had been read many, many times. He carefully sat it down on a nearby table and cracked it open. He motioned towards Trixie for her to peer in for a closer look, and pointed out a line in the book. “This book is the very abridged version of all of Marker Lark's writings, but still very useful for a new revolutionary thinker.” She leaned in towards the pages, and as she did Hammer Jammer dragged her even closer. “Here. Let's start with Quasi-Mechanical Synthesis...” ~ Hammer Jammer's initial plan was to simply explain a few concepts, leave Trixie to study by herself for a while, and come back to see if she understood the material. However, this young mare was a sponge. She was able to accurately explain collectivist concepts and critiques of the magical/industrial division of labor by only reading a few lines. He stayed with her until the library closed, and the retreated beyond the horizon. “I believe that's enough for today,” he stated as he closed the book and turned to her, “we'll pick up tomorrow, comrade.” Trixie almost let him know that she didn't actually have any place to stay, but her stubborn pride still persisted and silenced her. Still, she needed a reason to not have him suspect she was homeless. “Do you have anything else I could do for, uh, the cause?” she asked, shuffling the book along the table a bit. Hammer Jammer looked at the clock on the wall, “It's ten o' clock at night, comrade.” Trixie merely shuffled the book some more, and Hammer Jammer relented. “Then again, revolution never sleeps. Wait here,” he said as he exited the library. He returned shortly thereafter, with a heap of posters. “The imperialists around here like to tear these down, and nobody has been willing put them back up after they were removed for the forty-third time. I'd do it, but I'm so busy these days,” he explained as he plopped them on the desk, “If you could just sprinkle these around town, it would help. Now, they'll probably get torn down the next day, but–“ “Thank you!” Trixie nervously shouted as she whipped up the posters with her magic and darted out the door. ~ Trixie pasted the flyers along every wall she came to. However, she was Trixie, and those flyers wouldn't get torn down this time. Using a spell she normally reserved for playing nasty pranks, she stuck the flyers so tightly to the wall that it would take an hour to peel off, even with normal magic. She did this to every wall she came to, using more for the even higher-class buildings. She giggled as she did so, taking in the sweet catharsis of ruining rick pony folks' dainty houses. Trixie continued to stick flyers until she completely ran out, and dismayed when she saw that there had only been enough flyers for one block. That, and she may have overused them a bit. She panicked, running to the nearest one and tried to peel it off. Sure enough, it was much harder to take off than put on and refused to budge. Trixie continued in vain to remove the flyer, but eventually gave up. Exhausted, she fell flat on her back and groaned, having failed at a very simple task. She absently stared at the sky for a moment before she got up and began to slowly walk down the street. As she entered the even higher-class neighborhood, she noticed how different they were from the streets that she had escape from. No boarded windows, kept lawns, lighting. It seemed so... “Bourgeoisie,” she muttered without even thinking. She stopped as she realized what she had just said. To make sure that her brain hadn't just temporarily short-circuited, the unicorn did a double-check. “The bourgeoisie are defined by their control of capital, either through the monopoly of magical manipulation or ownership of the means of production.” she stated, operating from what she had learned in her study session with Hammer Jammer. She began to repeat her learning with more vigor, “the bourgeoisie, through ownership of either magic or capital, do create a permanent underclass. It is consumerist by nature, and makes those who do not possess the means to liberate themselves through magic virtual slaves.” A fire began to billow within her, “And the only way for the underclass to truly be free it to throw off the chains of oppression. Unicorns, pegasi, and earth pony alike must band together, hoofs linked, and present a united front against the rich! Against the monarchist! Against the reactionaries, conservatives, and class traitors!” Her heart began to soar and she began triumphantly declaring the word of the worker on a nearby bench. “Workers of Equestria unite! Throw off the chains of oppression, for those who do not resist and accept being ground into the dust are the real losers! Unite, comrades, and forge a new tomorrow!” “Shut up!” shouted a middle-aged unicorn pony, who had leaned out the window in his diamond-studded pajamas. “You shut up!” Trixie bellowed, and from a striking distance, used her innate mystic abilities to magically zip his mouth shut. He protested with muffled screams, and fell back from his window. Trixie grinned. “That felt...good. Humiliating rich ponies is way better than doing it to the normal rubes!” Her grin grew brighter as an idea came to her. Before the unicorn she had just technically assaulted managed to free his mouth and call the guards, she ran out of the neighborhood and down the city, and into the forest she had originally came from. ~ When she arrived at the edge of the forest, she began her work by felling a few trees. Using the raw timber, she then carefully molded them into the shapes she needed, eventually assembling them all into familiar components. The pieces ready, she carefully connected them into place, until the whole became something she had not used in some time. Now came the tricky part. Carefully visualizing the color she needed, she enchanted her creation to display a hue that was most fitting to its new purpose. The enchantment worked perfectly, and at last her project was finished. By the time she had finished, the dark horizon was already beginning to glow, and the sun was rapidly approaching. No matter. She hooked up her new creation to a makeshift bridle and returned to Canterlot. The extra weight made her extra wary of just how steep the mountain was, but kept reminded herself that this was for all the worker ponies of the world. She managed to pull her cargo into a large open area in the middle of the city, and quickly began preparing for her task by retreating inside her construction. As morning began proper, many of the well-to-do ponies gathered round to the strange object now conspicuously located in the middle of the square. When a large enough crowd had gathered, Trixie's red and rebuilt wagon opened itself up, shooting fireworks into the air that exploded into brilliant fizzling stars with crossed hammer and sickles. Grey smoke exploded on the stage as Trixie revealed herself to the crowd, tattered cape and all. “Canterlot citizens!” she announced, “I come bearing the news of revolution!” “This should be good,” Fancy Pants whispered to next to him. “Yes, citizens! With my awesome magical talent, I will show you the necessity of the destruction of the bourgeoisie and freedom for all of ponykind!” “Get on with it!” a pony shouted from the back. “Hmph!” Trixie replied, now fully back into GAPT mode, “Very well! I'll enlighten you! But be warned, as your mind shall be blown by the very same pony who vanquished the...” Fireworks launched into the air, and exploded into the shape of a fat pony in a business suit. “...Banker Major!” “So?” one pony asked loudly. Trixie ignored him and continued, “Using the magic only available to a unicorn who has realized her true utility and value of magical labor, I spurred the citizens of Hoofsdale to an uprising! They seized his property, and established a prime socialist model!” “That's amazing, except the part where Hoofsdale doesn't exist,” said a very familiar voice, right in the front of the crowd. Trixie looked down and her jaw dropped when she saw an annoyed Twilight Sparkle looking straight at her.