//------------------------------// // walking // Story: Mapping Manehattan // by The Red Parade //------------------------------// The Manehattan Police Department used to be powerful. Fiddle wanted to join them at one point. They’re gone now. Fiddle runs a hoof against the side of the police car. The decals are worn out and faded, but she can still read the words. ‘To protect and serve’ is written near the back. Fiddle sighs, remembering what it was like to have a place you could call for help. She wonders how many police officers were left. She knows a lot were killed trying to stop the riots. That was a long time ago. Fiddle looks in the cracked rear view mirror of the squad car. Her splintered reflection stares back at her.  She gently pushes the door shut, and it closes with a thud. Moving forwards, she sees the windshield is cracked and riddled with bullet holes. Lightning is waiting up ahead. Fiddle joins her, and the two keep walking. The buildings around them used to be banks, cafes, and stores. Now they’re all the same. Empty. Husks of what once was. One of the signs reads ‘Faust’s Coffee.’ Fiddle remembers that name. They used to be everywhere. They still are. Lightning loved their coffee. Fiddle just thought it was expensive. She wonders how hard it would be to get a cup now. They pass a few more cars and vans, each one broken and unusable. Up ahead there’s a crane, sitting next to a massive wall made of cars. In front there’s traffic barricades and orange advisory cones. There’s also a digital sign, illuminating an orange arrow pointing to the left. They ignore it and pass through the impromptu barricade. Evidently some ponies had tried to build a fort here. They probably failed. Fiddle frowns at that. She wonders what drove them out. A lot of ponies changed over the years. Not in a good way.  A flock of birds is roaming the street in front of them, searching for food. They scatter as Fiddle and Lightning approach, taking off to the sky. On the other side of the barricade, stacks of boxes lie in the middle of the street. Most are cardboard shipping boxes, others are plastic tubs. There’s also large shipping containers stamped with the words ‘Equestrian Army.’  They’re probably from the relief effort. The Royal Guards and army did their best, but there wasn’t much they could do. There wasn’t anything anypony could do, really. But that didn’t matter now. Nopony could change the past anyways. The two hadn’t been here before. But it looked the same as the rest of Manehattan: empty buildings, empty streets. It used to be a lot worse, but after most of the bodies were buried Fiddle found it easier. The smell was still there, but she didn’t mind it. After all, the two of them were stronger now. In the mind, sure, but mostly in the legs. Day after day, they walked through the city. Hunting, gathering, collecting, and wandering.  Searching for nothing. Plotting a course. Learning. Mapping Manehattan.