Pinkie stands under the doorframe of the front door. The fresh morning air washes into the house. She breathes in its crispness and lets out a soft hum as she crosses her arms. With the sun slowly rising, she’s able to see the forest she was in last night in all its natural grandness. As Wadsworth had told her, the redwood trees are the most impressive trees she has ever seen. They put the trees of the Everfree to shame. She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that trees could grow that tall.
Hearing the chirping of birds, she lets out a sigh and steps into the cabin. “Wadsworth?”
“Yes, Miss. Pinkie?”
Pinkie steps into the laundry room and sees the robot hovering over the dryer. “You know you can just call me Pinkie?” She watches her navy blue dress, jacket, and undergarments tumbling about within the dryer’s wheel. ‘Twilight would go nuts over this contraption?’ Frankly, to be honest, she would too. It would make doing her least favorite chore, her laundry, ten times faster.
“Sorry, Miss. Pinkie. A force of habit or programming. Whatever you prefer.” Wadsworth laughs.
Pinkie rolls her eyes. “Well, I guess Miss. Pinkie is fine.” She smirks. “But I want you to say it with a skip in your… um, hover. I want you to sing it!” She proclaims as she sits on the washing machine.
“Miss Pinkie!” Wadsworth sings, his robotic voice flawlessly keeping a tune. The dryer makes a dull thud and dings, alerting them that it finished its task. “Your clothes are done.” He pulls them out and gently hands them to her.
She takes them and instantly feels a chill of delight wash over her. “Oh, they’re so warm?” She looks at Wadsworth. “Thank you for cleaning them.”
Wadsworth hums. “Anything for you, Miss. Pinkie!”
Pinkie smiles as she walks out of the laundry room and into the restroom down the hall. Setting her clothes on the counter beside the sink. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her mane is a frizzy mess. She blows out a long breath as she messes with it. “Oh, colt…”
With a sigh, she takes off her nightgown. Holding it in her hands, the silky texture of the gown slides around her fingers with ease. It had felt strange to wear someone else's clothing, but Wadsworth insisted that she do so. “Don’t want to chafe from wet clothes.” He had told her, and she couldn't argue with that. Her dress was a mess last night. She continues to rub her fingers across the fabric. Her nightgowns back home were just plain old cotton; they were nothing like this. She likes the texture. It felt like sleeping on a cloud when she wore it last night…
“Admiring Madam’s nightgown Miss. Pinkie?”
“YEEP!” Seeing Wadsworth hovering outside the bathroom, Pinkie blushes as she tries to cover herself. “Wadsworth! I’m naked!”
He stays silent as he looks her over. “It seems you are, Miss. Pinkie. But must I remind you that I am a service bot. Trivial things like nudity don’t bother me.” He laughs. “I guess ponies are like humans. Concerned about trivial matters.” He hums as he floats away.
Pinkie feels her cheeks get redder and redder. ‘Humans are the same as ponies…’ Wadsworth did tell her the name of his owner’s species last night, which led to a myriad of questions that would've made her friend Twilight blush. “Are the same…” Her cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Signing a nervous little ditty, she quickly puts on her C-cup cotton bra and her underwear. Still blushing, she puts on her navy-blue dress and finally slips on her wool jacket, buttoning up its four buttons.
Breathing out a sigh, Pinkie tries in vain to get her mane under control before heading into the living room. Stepping out of the hall, she sees Wadsworth hovering by the front door with a grey-colored backpack in his robotic crab-like hands. “Aw, Miss. Pinkie. I see you are dressed.”
She blushes. “Yep.” She holds out the nightgown. “What do you want me to do with this?”
Wadsworth takes the nightgown and stuffs it into the bag. “It’s yours now. I take it since Madam left it; she didn’t want it anymore…” His eyes drop a little while his hover’s height lowers closer to the ground. “Like me…”
Pinkie frowns at his demeanor. “Don’t say that, Wadsworth. I’m sure they miss you?” She takes the backpack and slings it over her shoulder. “Once we find them, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you again.”
Wadsworth looks at her for a short while before letting out a small ditty. “Thank you, Miss. Pinkie” He floats into the kitchen. “And I do believe that they will be thrilled to see you!” He takes several thermoses out of a cupboard and fills them.
“You do?” Pinkie wonders as she watches him. “You don’t think they’ll think of me differently because of my appearance?” Her smile grows.
“I believe Madam, Mister, and the kids would love to get to know you.” Wadsworth opens the backpack and puts the thermoses in. “But others, I do not know of their intentions.” He pats her on the head, causing her to blush. “We’ll get to that road when we get there.” He floats on over to the front door. “Ready, Miss. Pinkie?”
Pinkie smirks as she tightens the backpack’s straps. “You bet, ready to explore the wilderness of… um… What's the name of your country again?”
“The United States of America!”
“Right…” The explanation he gave last night to her was somewhat confusing – countries within a country. “And what state?”
“California, Miss. Pinkie!” Wadsworth hums as he heads out the door.
“Cali-for-nia?” Pinkie tells herself. She frowns at the strange name, especially one for a country… no – state. Readjusting her backpack, she heads down the porch’s steps and walks alongside Wadsworth? “Where to?”
“I say let's head into the city.”
“City…” Pinkie feels herself shiver with excitement. “What's the name of the city?”
“Good old San Francisco!”
“Ah, here we are, Muir Woods Train Station!” Wadsworth sings as he makes his way over to the cozy-looking station.
Pinkie stares at all the symbols dotting the sign’s wooden construction. “What does Caltrian mean?” She eyes a logo showing the word ‘Caltrain’ – ‘Cal’ is colored black, while ‘train’ is colored white and inside the borders of a red dot.
“It's one of the many railroad companies in California!” He calls from the entrance of the station. “Caltrain extended this line back in 2025. To provide a faster route to Muir Woods Natural Monument.”
Pinkie nods as she follows Wadsworth but stops when she catches a glimpse of a red-colored engine and its dark-grey-colored cars sitting idly at the station's platform. She looks for the telltale signs of the chimney steam trains have, but she doesn't see one to her disappointment. “Where’s the chimney?”
“It's not a steam train, Miss. Pinkie. It’s an ‘MPI MP36 diesel-powered locomotive.”
Pinkie keeps staring at the train as she mulls over his words. “Diesel?...” She follows him into the station. “It’s like a putter-wagon?” She asks mostly to herself as she enters.
The interior of the station itself is relatively bland. Most of the overhead lights are dim or dying, setting the station's mood to be one of unsettling wonder. Dust covers every surface creating an eerie dusty winter wonderland of sorts. Pinkie walks past several rows of benches, once used by passengers waiting for their train. Stopping in the center of the station, she looks up at the large mountain-themed chandelier that still sparkles in the rays of the morning sun, shining through the large glass windows lining the trim that’s dividing the base of the ceiling and tops of the walls.
Sighing, Pinkie looks to her right and sees several gift shops. Seeing one of them is not closed off to her by a metal rolling door, she wanders up to it and eyes the different gift cards and knick-knacks that still fill its shelves. Seeing a gift card of a large grizzly bear catching a fish, she picks it up and looks into the barren store. Seeing no one, Pinkie takes out her coin bag from her jacket’s breast pocket, takes out one bit, and places it on the counter.
“Oh, Miss. Pinkie, we need a ticket!”
Pinkie looks over her shoulder and sees Wadsworth over by a large red painted contraption that looks to be built in a U-shape. Placing the gift card in her backpack, she walks over to the Mr. Handy bot. “Where is the booking clerk?”
“The booking clerk is right here. It's a ticket-o-matic. Fast, efficient, and top of the line.” Wadsworth taps on the counter.
The machinery on the other side hums as a thin three-inch slot on its face opens, reviling red glowing lights that look like eyes to Pinkie. “Please state your destination?” It asks in a robotic drawl.
“Two tickets to San Francisco.” Wadsworth hums.
The robot lets out a low growl. “That will be thirty-five dollars per ticket, please.”
Pinkie raises her brow. “Dollars… Oh, bits.” She mumbles to herself. “What a strange name to call bits, but whatever…” She pulls out her coin purse once again and counts her coins. ‘Twenty-seven.’ She frowns. “Wadsworth!” She whispers. “I don’t have that many bits!”
Wadsworth stares at her. “Bits?” Seeing the coins, his processing clicks. “Oh… Oh, dear.”
Pinkie smirks. “Maybe we can bargain for a better price.” She leans on the counter and rests her head in her right hand. “Hello, Mister O-Matic!” The robot looks at her. “I was wondering if you had discounts for foreign travelers?”
The ticket-o-matic looks at her for some time. “NO! Thirty-Five dollars per ticket… Please!”
Pinkie frowns. “No… But, come on! Thirty-Five is ridiculous!”
“Please pay or leave!”
Pinkie frowns. “You gotta work with me.” She gives the robot the most enormous puppy eyes she can. “You can’t say no to this face!”
“No discounts!”
“Really, You like, have no discounts?”
“Yes!”
“You have discounts!” Pinkie smiles.
“No! No! Traveler, we have none!” The ticket-o-matic grumbles.
“None?” She huffs dramatically.
“YES!”
Wadsworth looks at the two with growing interest. “This is going to be fascinating.”
“Like, none, none?”
“YES! LIKE, NONE! NONE!”
“What about a fifty percent discount?”
“NoOo!”
“How about fifty-one percent?”
“No… wait… what?”
“Fifty-one and a half and quarter and two-thirds?”
“That makes no mathematical sense?”
“What if I write a good review?” Pinkie smiles. “One that will give you a raise!”
The ticket-o-matic’s eyes go stiff as it tries to process her barrage of questions. “I am not paid for my task…” Its eyes start to rapidly go side to side. “Not… paid!!!” Its eyes are a blur, making its ‘eye’ slit one solid red line of light. Loud sounds erupt from the machine. Its mouth-looking piece opens up.
“Um, what’s happening?” Pinkie backs up.
“I do believe you broke it, Miss. Pinkie.” Wadsworth watches the machine's meltdown with robotic fascination.
An endless stream of tickets spews forth from its mouth. Pinkie stares, wide-eyed, as she watches them arch over her and collides into a nice pile behind her. Wadsworth’s three eyes track the tickets. With a quick motion, he plucks two ticks from the air and hands one to Pinkie. “Here is your ticket.”
Pinkie takes the ticket with a blush. “I didn’t mean to break it…” Her eyes continue to watch the memorizing stream of paper.
“No worries, Miss. Pinkie.” Wadsworth heads to the station’s platform. “Ticket-o-matics are very temperamental.”
Exiting the station, they make their way to the train they saw earlier. Standing in front of one of its cars, Pinkie listens to the idle droning of its motors. Its deep bassy hums make it sound like it's alive. She shivers as she feels the vibrations wash over her. “The trains back home have nothing on this!” She comments.
“Mighty motors these trains have,” Wadsworth states looking at the engine.
Hearing what sounds like cans falling over, Pinkie looks to her right and sees a silhouette of a figure standing at the end of the platform. She can’t make out its details, but she sees it has a short torso and long lanky limbs. Its head is cylindrical in shape, like a security camera. It's one eye glowing a soft baby-blue.
She watches it clench its fists, its posture turning stiff – its eyes turning a deep cherry-red. She didn’t know if it saw Wadsworth and her, but it makes its way onto the train with an aggressive stride. “Did you see that?” Her voice feels like it's stuck in her throat.
Wadsworth looks where she is. “It must’ve been another passenger or the conductor.”
Pinkie frowns. “They seem upset.” She lets a small smile adore her lips. “Maybe I can cheer them up…!” The door to the cars open. Looking down the train one last time, Pinkie steps into the train with Wadsworth following after. Eying the car’s interior, they see eight seats lining the car's far side by the windows. Three round dining tables that can seat four fill the center. At the gangway's end is a bar manned by a robot with an oval-shaped head and green eyes, mindlessly arranging glass cups with its noodle-like arms.
“Very cozy.” Pinkie smiles. “!?” Before they can sit down, the doors behind them shut, and the train lurches forward. Hearing the muffled echoes of the diesel engine, Pinkie looks out the door’s window and sees the station slowly pulling away. “That was fast.”
“Yes, very efficient!” Wadsworth states as he floats over to a seat. “Why don’t you set your stuff down, Miss. Pinkie.” She complies and sets her bag on the table in the middle of two seats that face each other. “If you want Miss. Pinkie, you can go and explore this train. We’ll not be in San Francisco for another three hours.”
“Won’t you be lonely?”
“I’ll be fine.” Wadsworth hovers over by the window. “I shall be enjoying the view.”
Pinkie nods as she walks to the back of the car. Standing in front of the bar, she eyes the robot on the other side. “Hello!”
The robot looks up. “Hello, Miss.” Its voice is cheery and upbeat. “What can I do you for?”
“What kind of drinks do you serve?” Pinkie sits in one of the bar stools.
“I serve acholic and non-acholic beverages.” The robot sets down the glass it is cleaning. “If you would like an acholic beverage, I’ll need to see some ID.”
Pinkie rubs her chin. “ID?” She looks through her coin purse and pulls out her government passport.
The robot takes her passport and gives it a read. Seeing that Pinkie is twenty-four years old, it hands it back with a hum. “Congrats, you are of the legal limit.”
Pinkie takes her card. “What is the legal limit?”
“From your passport, I could tell you’re not from around here.” Pinkie nods. “Well, it's twenty-one.”
Pinkie raises her brow. “It's eighteen where I'm from.”
“Ah, from Europe.” Pinkie tilts her head at the name, but the robot ignores her expression as he gives her a menu. “For being a foreigner, you speak relatively good English.”
Pinkie’s ears stand erect. “English?” The robot nods. She picks up the menu and eyes the lettering. ‘Oh…’ How could she have missed it? She’s seen plenty of evidence that her language and the human language were eerily similar. If she was Twilight, she would invest her waking hours understanding the ‘how's’ and ‘whys,’ but Twilight she is not. “Humans are the same as ponies…” Those words Wadsworth told her this morning were enough to satisfy her. “Thank you for the compliment, mister?”
“Jerry, the Bartender!” Jerry waves.
Pinkie waves as she eyes the non-alcoholic drinks. Seeing one labeled truffle cocoa, she licks her lips at the description. “Could I have one of these?”
Jerry sees what she is pointing at and nods. “One truffle cocoa coming right up!”
Pinkie rests her head in her hands as she watches him make her drink with ease.
PISST – SPERRR!
The gangway door opens.
Pinkie looks to her left and sees a tall robot staring down at her. She recognizes it as the figure from the other end of the station. Its security-camera-like head glares down at her. “Ticket… PLEASE!”
Pinkie shivers as she takes her ticket out from her jacket’s breast pocket. “Here you go, mister… YEEP!”
The Conductor takes the ticket and gives it a glare before placing it into his chest. A soft knock sounds off, and it pops back out. “Enjoy your ride…” It hands her the ticket… “MISS!” It growls as it walks over to Wadsworth. “TICKET!”
Wadsworth produces it for his fellow robot. “Here you go.”
The exact process happens, and the Conductor hands him back the ticket. “ENJOY! Your ride…” It leaves their car.
Still eyeing the door, Pinkie gulps down her nervousness. “He seems to be in a good mood.”
Wadsworth looks at both her and the door. “Oh, yes, very much so.”
“Your drink, miss.” Jerry places her drink before her.
Pinkie tears her eyes from the door and looks down at the steaming cup of goodness. “How much?”
“Four dollars and fifty cents.”
“Will five bits work?” Pinkie hands over the coins.
Jerry looks at the gold coins and nods. “Make that two because gold is gold…”
Pinkie lets out a sigh of relief and picks up her cup. Her eyes dilate as the rich chocolate, nutmeg, and truffle flavors slide down her throat. Letting out a long hum, Pinkie giggles as she holds the cup close to her chest. “This is amazing!”
“I’m glad you like it.” Jerry bows.
……
The Conductor gets to the train’s engine and opens the door. “We have two… PASSENGERS!!!” It looks at operators as it steps inside.
The robotic driver on the Conductor’s left looks over its shoulder. The robot is humanoid in shape from the waist up. Its upper torso is attached to a cone-shaped base in front of an array of controls. The Conductor looks to its right and sees the skeletal remains of a long diseased human operator. Their bones lay haphazardly over the desk of the control panel. The Conductor glares at the gaping hole in the back of the skeleton's skull. Its open jaw expression, maybe once a scream of pain.
Looking at the passing landscape through the cracked windshield, the Conductor lets out a deep growl. “ONLY… TWO! PASSENGERS!!!”