Octave was suddenly awoken by the sound of the outer door creaking again.
It would have been a hauntingly fun melody, if it wasn’t such a harbinger of impending doom.
He sat up, disoriented, his heart pounding. In front of the cage at the end closest to the door, two ponies stood, the stallion with a shockstick and the mare with a catchpole.
Two of the cage occupants were pressed against the wall, clearly terrified that one of them would be chosen, but one colt was still asleep in the middle. He must have been a heavy sleeper; his hind leg kicked weakly but he didn’t stir.
The worker loomed over him, her smile widening, her catchpole at the ready. Octave winced at the imminent rude awakening he would be receiving.
And then she whipped it over and grabbed the other colt pressed against the wall around the neck and pulled him to the ground. He choked in surprise, his visible relief instantly becoming horror, but didn’t have time for anything else before she dragged him away.
“It’s like they’re choosing somepony we don’t expect,” the filly in his cage murmured.
Octave thought so, too, and honestly, that frightened him. This was not like music at all. With music, there were rules and patterns, and here, there was none of that. He didn’t even know what time it was, and he didn’t dare ask.
The main door creaked open, but quieter this time. Octave still moved away from the grate, but that had struck him as odd.
Raindrops rushed in. “Alright,” she said quickly, her chest heaving. “My shift hasn’t technically started yet, so I don’t think anypony will notice if I’m not at my station right away. I can take one of you, but we have to move now.”
There was a brief pause as they processed this sentence.
And then the foals exploded into chatter, pushing to the front, pleading desperately with her to take them.
“No, no! Shh!” Raindrops hissed, urgently waving them down. “You’re gonna get us caught!” She looked around and pointed at a colt in the back. “You,” she said, opening the cage door and gesturing him over. “Come on, come on!”
The colt didn’t stop to question his luck. He darted out, ignoring the protests of his cellmates.
“Alright,” Raindrops said as she shut the cage door and faced the main one. “The clouds here are compressed, the ones up top are not. Once you’re outside, grab a chunk of cloud, and you should be able to steer yourself down.”
“What if a guard sees me?”
Raindrops shook her head. “No guards outside,” she said. “It’s called security through obscurity. If there were guards flying around, ponies would want to know what’s so special that it needs protecting. Once you’re out, you’re home free.”
Octave’s ears pricked. She’d thought this out. That promise of freedom suddenly sounded a lot more valid--and a lot more possible.
“Alright. Stay calm, stay calm.”
“I am calm,” the colt protested.
“I’m talking to myself,” Raindrops said. She blew out a puff of air. “Let’s go.”
Octave watched them leave. He wasn’t sure how he felt. It wasn’t him, which wasn’t good. But somepony was getting out of here, and that was good. So that probably evened out, somehow.
Octave lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, thinking once again that he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. He knew how many other failures had been taken, three (not counting the one Raindrops had freed). None from his cage yet, but it was only a matter of time before their number came up.
The door creaked open again, and he jumped up and backed against the wall. It was probably bad to be moving to draw attention like that, but it was still instinctive.
A pony that looked like somepony’s grandma entered, and then to his surprise, he recognized the second pony entering. Raindrops was back.
“Let’s take these two,” the grandma said, pointing at two cages.
One of which was Octave’s.
“Fine by me,” Raindrops said. She banged on his cage with the butt of her shockstick. “Your turn,” she said. “Walkies!” She gave them a surreptitious wink as she unlocked the door and stepped back. “Don’t get any ideas,” she warned them, still in her gruff voice. “This is just a quick walk, nothing more.”
None of the foals moved.
Raindrops sighed. “None of you are going in the Device,” she said tiredly. “Not yet, anyway,” she amended hurriedly with a quick glance over her shoulder at the other worker.
“We learned that if you don’t get a little physical activity in, the spectra isn’t as bright,” the grandma pony explained. “We could just use more fresher failures, but you know, waste not.” Her smile was sickly sweet, and Octave flinched.
Her smile deepened, seemingly gratified at his reaction.
Warily, he stepped out, slightly comforted by Raindrops’ presence but still not sure about this whole situation. His other two cellmates followed, and he felt a little better.
He looked between the two. Could this be the chance to escape? He neared Raindrops, intending to ask but not sure how.
“Not now. I’m being watched,” Raindrops murmured preemptively, keeping her mouth closed and not looking down at him.
Octave nodded but tried to hide it, and backed off. He didn’t want her to get in trouble.
Once all the foals were out, Raindrops led the way as the grandma pony kept the rear, her shockstick at the ready.
Any further hope of escape vanished when they got to the floor. They may have only had two escorts, but they were walking on what was effectively a long catwalk with no barriers, and ponies with shocksticks lounged on the sides, watching them pass. One mare gently stroked hers while she watched them pass, like she was hoping for a chance to use it.
Octave instinctively moved behind Raindrops’ legs.
“Is that another group?” another foal asked, pointing down at a lower level.
The group moved over to look. A couple other foals were down there, all of them looking like they were exhausted and dragging themselves along, also escorted by two workers with shocksticks.
Will I end up like that? Octave wondered. Those foals barely looked alive.
“Yep,” Raindrops said roughly. “We’ve got a couple storage cages here. You know, we used to keep you all together in one huge room, but that got shut down thanks to the Incident, so that’s why we switched to the groups setup.”
“What happened in the Incident?”
“Shh!” Raindrops hissed, spinning around and shoving a hoof in the speaker's mouth. She looked around nervously. “Do you want them to hear you? Bringing up the Incident is one sure way to make sure she puts you next in line for the Device. Keep your mouth shut.”
The colt nodded, his eyes wide in fright. He didn’t know who ‘she’ was, and right now he didn’t want to.
Raindrops dropped her hoof and continued walking.
They made the rest of their way around the factory in relative silence, until the end. Octave’s eyes caught movement, and he looked up. He gasped, causing the surrounding ponies to look up, too.
Hovering above them was a pony with a rainbow mane, wearing a black suit that had been splattered with what looked like blood, having a conversation with Dr. Atmosphere. Sensing she was being watched, she looked down at the group, and her cerise eyes narrowed.
Octave quickly averted his eyes and tucked his wings, instinctively trying to make himself look small. This could only have been ‘she’. The Boss Mare.
Another colt kept looking up, seemingly unable to look away from her.
“Don’t make eye contact,” the grandma pony said, giving him a rough bump on the back of his head with the butt of her shockstick.
But as brusque as it had been, this time her voice had carried no malice.
Octave was sure there was something to that, but he had no intention of trying to find out. How strange was it that now he wanted to go back to the cage?
Octave was crouched against the wall, pressing up against it, as if in hopes that he could phase through it. Visions of the rainbow-maned pony’s eyes still flicked through his memory, and he hated it.
His filly cellmate pressed some of the canned alfalfa in his direction. “Come on. You have to eat something,” she urged.
Octave nodded and ate slowly. It didn’t taste like anything, and he wasn’t hungry, but she was right; he had to eat.
The door creaked open again, and he choked. Instinctively, he went back to the wall.
The grandma pony was back, carrying a catchpole. She glanced across the room, and then selected a cage.
His cage!
He flinched as she opened the door, closing his eyes, imagining that he’d feel that cold wire wrap around his neck in a moment.
But his time here was not to end like this.
The other colt, however, was not so lucky. “No! Please! Take one of them! Take one of them!”
“But I’ve already got you, darling little colt,” the grandma pony said with a wicked smile.
“I’m not-! Please!”
She flipped the catchpole over her shoulder, throwing him into the air and slamming him against the ground. Her voice turned vindictive, cutting over his groans of pain. “With a performance like that, do you really think you even deserve those wings? You’re a worthless pegasus and you deserve this, failure.” And with that, she dragged him through the room and out the door.
The filly looked down, as if mourning their cellmate.
And then she leaned over and started eating the food he’d dropped.
Octave gave her a sideways look, and then realized that she was right. He wouldn’t need it anymore, and they would.
It didn’t stop him from feeling a little callous, but still. The thought that he’d live a little longer buoyed him ever so slightly, and he joined her.