Sunnyside Yard
No matter what Charlie said, it was deeply unlikely that either GG1 was going to get any sleep at all that night. 4883 had been insistent that 4902 explain exactly what had happened with the Flying Pony, and 4902 knew that there wasn’t going to be any sleep until the chatty green GG1 had their answers.
Of course, hanging over both engines was the biggest, most unanswerable question of all: How are we alive?
It had been happening over the past few weeks. Engines up and down the corridor had started experiencing flashes of consciousness - of life. Flashes that had started getting longer and longer until one day they stopped being flashes and started being life. None of them knew how this was happening, or why, but it was happening, like it or not.
A few of the older engines - some of the New York Central T and S motors who had been around the block a bit longer - said that it was because they all had some life in them, left over from when they were built, and now it was starting to show up in odd ways:
An E44 absentmindedly rolled past a signal in Maryland, its driver screaming that the engine was moving forward even though he’d put the throttle into reverse.
GG1s found themselves making passive aggressive comments to each other about the state of their paintwork, and more than one locomotive had refused to move until they were run through the engine wash - much to the bafflement of mechanical services.
A few members of the MP54 fleet were apparently further along in showing life than just about anyone else - while most engines could barely think with their pantographs down, one particularly ornery old car was rumoured to have audibly told their driver to go fuck himself after being compared unfavorably to the new Amfleet coaches.
The yard switcher at Bear Shops in Delaware became increasingly uncomfortable with the lifeless silence of the E60 fleet, and began to refuse to go near them. The shops had the poor SW1 in pieces and still couldn’t find anything wrong.
Of course, that left a lot of the new diesels asking why they were more special than the lifeless E60s and Metroliners. Why were they capable of showing life before their first birthdays, when some of the electrics had no life in them at all?
A lot of the old electrics wondered that too, especially the PRR fleet, who had spent many decades of non-sentience operating as bitter rivals to the NYC engines, and thought that the T motors were spouting nonsense.
What’s your grand idea then, genius? This had been a common refrain from former New Haven engines - their own lack of any good ideas didn’t stop them from criticizing others - and the former Pennsy fleet had been forced to realize that they didn’t have any idea why this was happening.
Some engines handled this realization a bit differently than others.
Some - mostly Conrail engines, but a few from Amtrak’s ranks - panicked, asking why why why even after all possible answers were exhausted.
Others, like the MP54s - chose not to mention it, going about their duties like they always had, now with the added burden of being alive. Most engines suspected that it was due to their proximity to the non-electrified segments at both ends of the corridor, where non-sentient engines from other railroads worked. 4902 personally suspected that they were actually curious about what happened, and were frightened about the answers they got - most of the commuter cars were much smarter than they looked, and had to wonder why life was not spreading outside of the corridor.
Most Amtrak electrics - 4902 included - might not have known why they were now alive, but they did know exactly what would happen to them as soon as the new engines from EMD passed inspection, and chose to enjoy every minute of life they had left, before their inevitable meet with the scrapper’s torch.
However, something must have been different in the electricity down in New Jersey, because all of the NJ Transit engines, 4883 included, had decided that since they had spent the better part of half a century being silent, they had better get caught up on all that talking right now. Amtrak engines who laid over at Sunnyside next to the NJT fleet had spent the first week of their new life marveling at just being alive, and then spent the next week wishing that the New Jerseyans would shut up.
They didn’t, by the way.
4883 likely would have kept talking all through the night and into the morning if Celestia hadn’t suddenly appeared over the catenary wires, mercifully causing the chatterbox of an engine to fall silent.
“I said that I’d bring pizza back for you, didn’t I?” The pony smiled as she landed in between the yard tracks, a pizza box suspended in her magic.
4902 rang their bell in response - even with the unexpectedly strong connection they had with the pony, they still couldn’t actually speak to non-engines.
Celestia smiled, and levitated a slice out of the box - looking inside, 4902 could see that most of the pizza was already gone - some-pony(?) was hungry.
“I’m not quite sure if this will work, but here goes nothing!” She said, before vaporizing the slice inside a bubble of golden magic.
Before 4902 could make any audible sounds of confusion, the golden bubble of magically vaporized pizza was shoved into the engine’s air intakes, where the bubble vanished.
4902 was not expecting anything to actually come of this, and was therefore astonished to be able to taste pizza deep within its intakes.
Celestia watched as the GG1 flickered its lights in obvious shock as the pizza-vapor vanished into its vents.
“Yes!” She cheered quietly, glad to see that her off-the-cuff spell had worked. It was an abbreviated version of some old archiving and restoration spells that Star Swirl had come up with back in the day, combined with some -
Hang on, She thought to herself as she noticed a new splotch of dark red around the locomotive’s air intake. Spell burn shouldn’t happen with this.
She flapped her wings and put herself at eye level with the locomotive’s vent. Putting a hoof on the side, she could feel the engine’s emotions: Confusion; shock; understanding of why humans liked pizza. No pain, or other obvious indication that any spell burn had occurred. Then what had happened?
Cocking her head in confusion, she quickly atomized another slice of pizza. “I want to try something - hold still.” She said quietly to the locomotive as she fed more pizza through a different portion of the vent.
She watched as the engine’s shabby black paint chipped and faded around the area the bubble had touched, leaving behind another mark of deep, shiny red.
“Were you painted red before?” She asked the engine, her mind working as she remembered a few dozen theorems and equations surrounding these old magicks.
The engine sent back an affirmative sensation - green, then red, and it liked red better - and she realized exactly what this spell had done.
It’s a restorative - turning old into new. Starswirl had wanted to fix broken book bindings and got carried away again…
Then Charlie’s voice rang through her mind: “Newer stuff works better ‘cause they haven’t been out on the rails for half a century. These engines are like me - they aren’t spring chickens anymore.”
Celestia suddenly had an idea.
Landing in front of the locomotive, Celestia grinned mischievously as she built up a bit of magic on her horn, charging the spell much more than she had last time, while tweaking it subtly. “I want to give you one final parting gift, as a token of my friendship.”
She released the spell, and a wave of golden magic lept from her horn and bathed over the GG1. She’d put a bit too much power into the spell, and residual energy spilled in all directions - including on top of the GG1 on the next track.
For a moment, there was silence, as the magic seeped into the metal skin of both locomotives. Then, quietly, the black paint on 4902’s nose began to blister and bubble. Slowly, the inelegantly applied paint began to crack and fail, falling off the skin of the GG1 in massive flakes, revealing a deep shiny red underneath. Gold pinstriping began to appear in spots, glittering with metallic flecks, while the small white numbers reading 4902, clearly stenciled on in a paint shop, fell away to reveal large golden numerals that looked like they had been applied by the steady hand of a master craftsman.
On the next track, 4883 was undergoing the same transformation, its tired green paint bubbling and cracking to reveal a shiny new layer of the same shade. The large solid gold stripe stayed intact, but became shinier - a metallic gleam appearing where it had previously faded away. Down on the bottom corner of the engine’s body, the tiny New Jersey Department of Transportation lettering stayed exactly where it was, but now looked somewhat cleaner and better done - like it had been applied by the same master painter that had done its numbers.
Massive red shapes that looked like bridge keystones began to appear in the center of both locomotives and below each headlight, and fine gold lettering began to become visible as the last of the black paint fell off. Dirt and grime that had been caked to headlights and other pieces of glass melted away, leaving surfaces so clean they were almost transparent.
Finally, it was over. In front of Celestia stood two essentially brand new GG1’s, one a rich dark green and the other a shiny brunswick red, each looking and feeling like like they were fifty years younger with new paint, clean windows, and two foot high sparkling gold letters that read “PENNSYLVANIA” down the side of each engine.
Although it wasn’t visible, inside the engines sat brand new electric motors, transformers, frames, and suspension linkages - all factory fresh and free from the wear and tear of a half century on the rails.
Both 4883 and 4902 were rendered speechless at what had just happened.
Celestia smiled at both engines, pleased with her hoofwork. “I can’t thank you enough, for everything you’ve done,” she said to 4902.
She reached up and nuzzled the engine once again, smiling at the engine’s whirlwind of confusion as to what just happened.
Pulling back, she once again made her goodbyes to the silent engines, before taking flight towards the city. Once she’d gotten enough airspace between herself and the ground, she focused on her hotel room in Philadelphia, and vanished in a flash of magic.
--
Back on the ground, 4902 watched as Celestia flew away.
“What in the steel-wheeled fuck just happened?”
Beside them, 4883 responded. “She left without giving me any pizza, that’s what happened.”
“Really? That’s your takeaway from this? That you didn’t get any pizza?”
“She gave you pizza.”
“We just got de-aged, you nincompoop! I feel like I just got out-shopped for the first time all over again, and all you care about is the pizza?!”
“I’m hungry!”
“Both of us are incapable of eating! You don’t even have a stomach!”
“You got to eat.”
“Do- Do - Do they wax you with something different in Amboy? Are there fumes? Do you act like this on purpose, or does being in Middlesex County for extended periods of time do something to an engine?”
“I’m just saying that I wanted some pizza!”
“Pizza is not the issue here!!”
At the other end of the yard track, unnoticed by the bickering electrics, Charlie was wondering if he’d had a damn stroke.
He had seen Celestia take off again, and was honestly curious to see if she had made good on her promise to fetch pizza for the 4902 when shouting had started from the area around the two engines. The two engines that were much cleaner than they had been ten minutes ago. The two engines that were definitely talking to each other.
Charlie was not a coward. Charlie was not one to shirk his duties. Charlie was not one to shy away from a challenge.
But GG1s could now talk.
If he was honest, he should do something. At least go see what was happening-
“I like anchovies, okay?”
“YOU DON’T HAVE A MOUTH TO EAT THEM WITH! WHEN WOULD YOU HAVE BEEN ABLE TO FIND THAT OUT?!”
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Charlie was gonna go home. Charlie was gonna pretend that he didn’t hear anything. Charlie was gonna let the day shift deal with this shit.
Philadelphia - 7:40 AM
It was well past dawn by the time that Johnson, Tempered, and Dagger managed to drag themselves back into the hotel. They had checked every bus, every cab, every truck, every thing that could have possibly carried the Princess into New York City, and they had come up with nothing. They had searched garbage trucks and still came back with nothing.
DeCiccio and his agents were still out there - Tempered had found them a nice garbage barge to go through in case Princess Celestia had decided to take to the high seas.
Dagger was on the edge of magical burnout, Johnson was practically asleep on his feet, and Tempered had just managed to muster up enough energy to teleport the trio back to Philadelphia. Handing over their non-existent evidence to her lieutenants, Tempered left the exhausted agent in the planning room, saw Dagger back to the guard contingent’s suite, and then staggered back down the hallway in the direction of her room, intent on getting some amount of sleep before continuing the search.
She was almost there, staggering past Princess Celestia’s room when the door opened.
It was a testament to exactly how tired she was that Tempered didn’t really acknowledge this until a familiar voice called out to her. “Commander?”
“Yes Princess - Princess Celestia!” Tempered jumped to attention, going from exhausted to wide awake in just a few heartbeats. “What are you doing here ma’am? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where did you go last night?”
The Princess blinked, clearly not expecting Tempered’s response. “Oh. I’m sorry my little pony, did I cause any confusion?”
“Not at all ma’am. We’ve just been looking for you.” Tempered said, perhaps a bit more curt than was appropriate.
“All night?”
“Yes Your Majesty. Where did you go?”
Celestia gathered Tempered in a motherly hug as she realized how much issue she’d caused her staff. “I’m so sorry Commander. I took the train up to New York City.”
“You did?” Tempered could feel her eye twitching.
“Yes. I wanted to try a culinary delicacy local to the region.”
It took Tempered a long moment to decipher that statement. “Your Majesty, did you go all the way to New York City for some pizza?” She asked as she buried her head into the Princess’ shoulder, her eye twitching madly.
“Yes. And I made some new friends along the way.”
“Did you?”
“Oh yes. I’d love to tell you about them, but I believe that somepony needs some sleep first.” Without waiting for any argument, Celestia carried Tempered into the guardsmare’s suite and went so far as to tuck her into bed before leaving to inform the others of her safe return.
Tempered waited a long moment until the door clicked shut behind The Princess, before rolling over and screaming into her pillow.
“WHAT TRAIN?! WHAT TRAIN DID YOU TAKE?! I SEARCHED EVERY TRAIN!”