Entire flocks of airships passed overhead, many of them luxurious yachts. Sundance watched them, his head in the clouds with them, while his heart felt too heavy to fly. He needed an airship too. Not for wealth, or ostentatious display like the ones in the clouds above him, but something that would make the isolation of his barony a bit more manageable. Even a complete junker might be fun, but then he thought of Hoppy's old clunker and reconsidered. That ship was now in pieces, and its various parts would find new life in the barony.
Lost in thought, he thought of airship adventure movies, a staple of his foalhood. Adventurous captains who braved the open skies. Tense moments of thrilling combat as ships played hide-and-go-seek among the clouds. That world in the movies, almost all of them, was a world of sky where land just didn't exist. A sea of clouds and blue that stretched endlessly in all directions. It was an idealised existence; it wasn't a world with sky, the sky was the world, and pegasus ponies dominated these vast, uncharted expanses.
Earth ponies and unicorns were confined to the ship, but pegasus ponies were free to roam.
Then, for the first time, Sundance wondered if these beloved movies of his foalhood were somehow tribalist. Hoof raised, he stroked his chin and thought about how mutinous earth ponies and unicorns were thrown over the rail… certain death awaited them. There was nothing below but emptiness. For that matter, where did food come from? And coal. He thought of how the ships pooted out tremendous clouds of sooty smoke, often in the most dramatic manner. Long panning shots done in slow motion of billowing smog, which sometimes had evil, distorted faces.
Chickens had gathered around Sundance and pecked for bugs in the flowerbeds. He paid them little attention—his eyes were skywards—but had he been more observant, he might have noticed that he was a rooster among the hens. It might have made him laugh… but his thoughts were elsewhere. Songbirds flitted from branch to branch in the strange trees that Sundance was utterly unfamiliar with. They serenaded him with trilling songs, but he failed to notice.
"Mister Sundance—"
It was Houseparent Jewel Jangle.
"—are you enjoying yourself?"
"I am, actually."
"Good. Good. I am told that your interview got a little rough near the end."
"It did."
"May I ask how you are feeling now?" As she drew near, the clucking chickens clustered closer to Sundance.
"You may," he said with mild sarcasm, and then was quick to add, "I'm fine. Just watching the ships go by."
She did not sit down upon the green grass with Sundance. No, grass stains and perfection did not mix. Sundance wondered if he should perhaps stand, but then decided that he couldn't be bothered. He did sit up a little straighter though, and he tucked his wings against his sides. Jewel Jangle was a model specimen of the earth pony tribe and Sundance couldn't help but feel a confusing attraction for her. When and how she found time to work out baffled him, but clearly, even with her career, she did. The almost masculine hard angle of her jaw secured his attention, and almost unbidden, he wondered what it might be like to be nuzzled by her.
"Do you like what you see?" she asked, and there was nothing at all flirtatious about her question.
"I am mostly confused by it," he said with blunt honesty. "So many perfect ponies in one place."
"We strive to be the best possible version of ourselves that we can, as instructed by the Guru. Lives of servitude, a regimen of diet and exercise, and a belief that perfection is possible, but only at a cost. And that cost is a strict adherence to harmony."
"Just how is perfection possible, exactly?" asked Sundance. "I'm sorry, I just don't see that being the case."
"The Guru was inspired by the Crystal Heart of the Crystal Empire." Jewel's words now seemed like a well-rehearsed spiel rather than anything she might say on her own. "He saw how the crystal ponies became transparent and took on a pleasing glow when filled with love and harmony. For him, he saw it as a perfect state of being, and was inspired. We may not glow, but we can be radiant. But to be so, our hearts and bodies must be in balance."
"Huh." Maybe there was something to it, but Sundance couldn't wrap his mind around it.
"You and I, we're not that different," Jewel said, and now when she spoke her words seemed more her own. "We aspire to be great servants, do we not? If only we had more to give than just our lives. I know about you. Heard some stories. Read your file. You flew an injured mare into Canterlot during one of the worst storms on record, and did so at great risk to your own life. You took on the worst barony in Equestria… in Applewood, we would call it the ghetto of baronies. Your dedication is admirable."
"But I don't strive for perfection."
"Oh, I beg to disagree. I think you do."
"My outsides are far from perfect." While these words left his mouth, he thought of his back. Then he thought of his everything, and was more than a little embarrassed to do so. "I don't think my innards are much better."
"But you strive, and that, that is admirable. Say what you will, Mister Sundance. There is no way for you to change my mind."
"Not sure how I feel about that."
"You are one of the chosen of Princess Celestia." Jewel bowed her head and her ears went limp against her temples. "She is a being of great wisdom and virtue. Infinite wisdom and virtue. Surely she would not make a mistake. The mere fact that she chose you makes you a worthy being. A chosen being. You bear her blood, and through you, she channels her will."
Though he regretted doing so, Sundance held his tongue. He was in scary territory. Even though this place was rather unsettling, he knew that these were good ponies who did good things. At least, his heart suggested that this was true, and he was inclined to trust his heart. It was his tongue that oft-betrayed him. Really, who was he to judge? These ponies were entitled to believe whatever they wanted—just so long as what they believed did no harm to others.
But he found the notion that he might be somewhat worshipped to be troubling.
"Does something bother you?" asked Jewel, who raised her head to look Sundance in the eye.
"I just feel out of my element," he blurted out, and he immediately regretted doing so.
"You were called to greatness, and now you stand among common ponies. It is understandable. It must be difficult."
"Uh… no… no"—he shrugged uselessly with both his wings and his withers—"no, that's not it. That's not it at all. You know what, nevermind about me. I just want to focus on why I'm here. I'm supposed to haul a truckload of kids home. Can we get on with that?"
"Your humility, humbleness, and single-mindedness to your cause is inspiring and admirable. If only more ponies were like you."
Ears hot, his heart now racing, Sundance held his tongue.
"Come, there is much to discuss. Follow me, Sundance, and look upon my pleasing perfection if you should so desire…"
"Welcome to the Night Nursery," Jewel Jangle said as she pushed open the double doors.
What existed beyond was nothing at all like what Sundance expected. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all shades of blue. Everything was well-lit, and wasn't dark at all as one might expect from a place named the Night Nursery. It was cool here, but not cold, and vivid rays of sunlight shone through the overhead skylights. Frozen in place, Sundance was unable to pass through the doors, and just stood there, open-mouthed whilst he took it all in.
"We find that some of the little ones are calmer with the colour blue," Houseparent Jewel Jangle said to Sundance as she too, came to a stop. "We built this place to Princess Luna's exacting specifications. She's learned much about psychology through dreams, and her many experiments yield beneficial results. This is a refuge for the anxious, the anxiety-ridden, and those with intense nervous disorders. Ponies say that if you are depressed, you are blue, but that's just not true. Not in a clinical setting, anyhow."
As Sundance glanced about, he saw a painting of Princess Luna looking down at him.
Even worse, she seemed to be looking right at him.
As if this place wasn't creepy enough, it had creepy paintings, too.
"And yes, before you ask, the Day Nursery is mostly white with pastel accents."
Tongue-tied, Sundance nodded, grateful that his question was anticipated.
Hearing water, his ears pricked; there was a decorative fountain or something nearby, he was certain of that. It wasn't just a faucet left running, that much was for certain. There were stars on the ceiling, which seemed a bit at odds with the sunlight streaming though the domed skylights. When he caught a whiff of hospital-grade disinfectant, he almost sneezed; it was only through sheer fortitude that he managed to contain the gale lurking in his sinuses.
"Most of our displaced young are kept here," Jewel said to him. "Your little gang of cuddle-buddies, they graduated to general population, but they were nervous and anxious about meeting you. To ease their troubled minds, we arranged for the meeting to happen here, in a place in which they are familiar with. All of them started here. They met each other here. This was the place where they bonded, and learned how to cope… together."
"So, when do I meet them?" he asked.
With a shake of her head, she replied, "Not for a while. There is more to do. Please, come with me."
A sigh of resignation seemed ill-advised, so Sundance followed after her in silence.
This room too, was blue. Almost everything in the room was blue, but the yellow pencils on the table stood out in sharp contrast. There was a blue couch, with a bluer coffee table, and a slightly less blue winged chair in the corner. The carpet under hoof was the colour of new denim while the walls were the colour of sky on a somewhat overcast day. A blue goo lamp bubbled atop a contoured matte grey-blue plastic end table.
A smiling portrait of Princess Luna looked down over the couch.
"Somepony will be with you shortly," Jewel Jangle said, and then she slipped out the door before Sundance could respond.
He looked at the high-backed wing chair in the corner, then at the couch, and then up at the painting of Princess Luna above the couch. Something had changed, of this he was certain. Were her eyes open just a minute ago? Now she seemed sleepy, though still smiling. Try as he might, he couldn't recall if her eyes were fully open or half shut. It was probably just his eyes playing tricks on him. Stress did funny things to his mind.
Blobs of electric blue goo bobbed up and down within the confines of the lamp.
Was he being watched?
He stood very still and tried to make sense of his feelings. It felt like somepony was watching him. Or something, as the case may be. There were no mirrored glass windows like those found in the police station. Whipping his head about, he looked out the window, but there was nothing beyond the glass but shrubberies and songbirds. With the sensation of eyes upon him growing ever stronger, he glanced this-a-way and that-a-way, but nothing revealed itself.
When he looked up at the picture of Princess Luna, all of the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Were her eyes crossed when he looked at her last? They were crossed now, and he could see a faint sliver of orange tucked between her parted lips. Feathers ruffled, his hackles raised like sawteeth, he refused to take his eyes off of the mischievous portrait of Princess Luna.
He extended his wing, held forth two primaries, pointed at his eyes, and then pointed at the portrait of the peeping princess just to let her know that he was on to her. In a smooth, fluid motion, he pointed again to his own eyes, then at the painting, and then back at his eyes once more. However foolish he might appear, he knew he was justified in his actions, because the princesses were pranksters.
"Is something wrong?"
At the sound of the stranger's voice, Sundance just about lept right out of his skin and his heart was almost successful with its escape exit out his mouth, but it got stuck about halfway up his windpipe. Every single one of his feathers now stood out and his hackles, already up, now looked as though they could cut lumber. He tucked his wing back against his side, recovered a small portion of his lost dignity, and turned to face the stranger in the doorway.
"Just a bit nervous," he said around the beating heart lodged in his throat.
The pony in the doorway was not at all perfect, not even in the slightest. In fact, she was perfectly normal, and Sundance was relieved to be away from pleasant perfection. This mare wore glasses and her muzzle was perhaps a bit too long. But that didn't matter to Sundance, he was glad to see her, glad to be in the same room with her. Her smooth hide was the colour of buttered toast and her mane the colour of mint jelly. Why he suddenly thought of food, he had no idea, but it was what it was. There was a stubby horn that just barely poked out of the heaped curls atop her head.
She was absolutely perfect because she wasn't perfect at all.
"Well, I can't say I'm upset with how you're looking at me right now. Just the opposite. I'm flattered. Mostly, I'm ignored around here… as if I were some background pony. Hello, handsome. I'm Hot Slice. Pretty sure my mother had delusions of grandeur when it comes to my looks, but with the way that you're looking at me right now, I'm having second thoughts."
"I'm sorry, I—"
"No, don't be sorry. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get noticed around here?"
"Um… uh…" He licked his lips and then shook his head.
"Let me guess… you thought of hot toast when you saw me—"
"How'd you know?" he blurted out in astonishment.
"Why do you think my mom named me Hot Slice?"
"I guess she had high hopes that somepony could come along to butter your bread." With the words barely even out of his mouth, Sundance was stricken with regret over what was obviously his lingering idiocy. At least, he wanted to believe it was his lingering idiocy. If this wasn't his lingering idiocy, it might be a sign of natural garden-variety idiocy—not good. But his remorse turned to confusion when he heard husky laughter, real, genuine laughter, and not some perfect, practiced laugh.
"I like you," she said while she pointed in the direction of the couch. "Have a seat, if you please."
Seated in the winged chair, Sundance kept one eye on the painting of Princess Luna and the other on Hot Slice, who sat on the couch just below the suspicious portrait. Hot Slice was pretty in a winsome way, engaging, bubbly of personality, and she had itty-bitty wrinkles in the corners of her eyes when she smiled. Sundance now had a new appreciation for these things and he was glad to notice this tiny detail about her.
"So… about these perfect ponies…"
"They're not bad sorts, really. All of them aspire to lives of perfect servitude and altruism. Applewood is full of them. A lot of the movie stars and big celebrity types follow the ways of their Guru, and I guess that is part of the appeal for normal, regular ponies to join. Up here in Applewood Hills is where you'll find the most of them, as their central complex is here. They've remade the whole of Applewood Hills in their own image. It's a much nicer place to live now."
After a deep breath, he decided not to say anything else about the perfect ponies.
"I guess, by now, you might be aware of how they feel about you."
Still silent, Sundance nodded.
"Yeah, I don't get that, but to each their own. You know, Sundance… if you were to ask them for help, a whole swarm of them, an army of them would arrive to do your bidding. I'm not saying that you should exploit them… but I am kinda saying that if you ever needed help, there is help to be found. They would bring their brand of perfection to your lands. I mean, just look around Applewood Hills. Surely you've noticed how everything is."
Now, Sundance's silence was due to the fact that he was completely overwhelmed, and not because he wanted to hold his tongue. Hot Slice was still smiling, the crinkles were still present in the corners of her eyes, and he still very much liked how she smiled. As much as he hated himself for doing so, he found himself thinking a bit too much about what Hot Slice had said. A whole army of devoted, dedicated zealots on a holy mission to bring perfection and please Princess Celestia. He wondered if Hot Slice was correct—and suspected that she was.
When he finally found his tongue, what he had to say was more than a little shallow.
"They would get dirty and gross if they were put to work. I don't mean to judge, but they strike me as clean types."
"Oh, trust me, they don't mind getting dirty. They'll even pay to do it. One of the Guru's miracle mud baths costs five-hundred gold bits. And that's probably how they would come to your lands… they would pay the Guru for the privilege of going on a charity mission. That's how these things work. That's how Applewood Hills was rebuilt from the agricultural ghetto it once was. Five years ago, none of what you see here now existed."
Grudgingly, unwillingly, Sundance was impressed.
"Would you like to know more about your little gang of goofs?"
At the mention of the gang of goofs, Sundance's mind immediately uncluttered itself, and he sat up straight. Gang of goofs? There was affection here, and familiarity. It occurred to him that this mare probably loved her job and all of the foals in her care. A part of him felt guilty, because he was taking some little ones away from those who probably loved them a great deal, but his guilt was tempered by the fact that they would have a home, and be loved. Hollyhock and the others would love them, that much was for certain. The oldsters loved the young, they loved having new life in the barony.
"Alright, deep calming breath time. You're going to hear some sad stories, Mister Sundance. You may find this upsetting, and that's just fine. If you cry or become angry, no one will judge you. In fact, that will be a positive. It means that you've become emotionally invested. Which is good. We want that. We strive for empathetic connections. Are you ready?"
"I suppose?" He half-shrugged, then added, "I'm not sure what I should be prepared for. I just came here to pick up a truckload of orphans and I had no idea that all of this would happen. So now, I am just riding it out. Hit me with whatever you've got, if that's what it takes."
"Do you often find yourself in situations where you have no choice but to ride it out?" she asked.
"Is this another interview?" he asked in return.
"It might be," she replied with a nod of her head, which made her minty curls bounce. "I'm a Crown-sponsored social worker. I technically do not work for Cactus Creek, but I work here at Cactus Creek. I answer to Twilight Velvet directly. And just so you know, I am also schooled as an empath, so I'll know if you're being sincere."
"And I guess you'll decide if I can take them home."
"Oh no, Mister Sundance. My job is to prepare you for the final process: convincing them to come home with you. If they tell you no, they're not going home with you. It is for them to decide their fate, their future."
"Uh…" Sundance managed to stretch his utterance into a prolonged groan.
Could foals really make that sort of decision on their own? His brows formed deep furrows that stretched the width of his forehead and the tautness of which tugged his ears forward. This was a huge decision, and to trust a foal with it—he was utterly unable to process this new bit of information, and was deeply troubled by it. Yet, it also made a certain sort of sense. Bad things probably happened to these tykes. The sorts of bad things that might have robbed them from having any sort of say in their lives. Maybe giving them a say in the outcome of their future was part of the healing process. But was it a mistake to do so?
"Most ponies react explosively and tell us how wrong we are," Hot Slice remarked with cool tranquility. "I must say, your reaction is… different. You seem bothered by it, but you are not immediately dismissing it."
"I could tell you stories," he replied. "Once upon a time, there was a pony whose mother raised him to hold prejudice against diamond dogs. He was a bit of a dolt. As it turns out, he had to go and find a midwife and a nurse. And found one. She just so happened to be a diamond dog. But Dolty Doo had to come to terms with a whole lot of sh—tuff. Now, Happy Wags and Dolty Doo are the best of friends, and the most important lesson that Dolty Doo learned was not to be too quick to judge. It might cost you a friend."
Hot Slice's head tilted off to the left and she focused her quizzical gaze upon Sundance.
"Empath that," Sundance said to her. "Soak that all in. All of it. That should probably tell you everything you need to know about me."
"It rather does," she replied with an amused half-smile.
"I might not be bright, but I try to do right."
"Indeed, you do. Shall we begin? Would you like to know more about what you are getting yourself into?"
"I should make it a policy that somepony has to take me to dinner and a show before they get to ask to do bureaucracy with me," he replied. "As it is, I just show up and immediately dive between the sheets… of paper. Makes me feel cheap."
She tittered, covered her mouth with her hoof, and then giggled uncontrollably.
"Yeah, let's do this thing. Let's get it over with. Maybe a month from now we'll be done and I can go home."