Chapter 1: Setting the Stage
By Wanderer D
Sol City—a vast, still-spreading monster of a city, with its gradual transformation from dark at the bottom to shiny white at the top and buildings that spread like wings over and through the clouds—was also called "the Great Swan of the East".
It had been built over the skeleton of Baltimare and transformed into a MegaCorp paradise. Or one of sorts. It depended on which area of the city a creature ended up living in. And more importantly, which level.
Sol City, like other new cities in Equestria, had three levels: The bottom, where a given creature would set hoof, claw or foot directly into the mud. This was where the most unsavory characters would live (according to the topside), thieves, beggars, unlicensed ripper doctors. Living nightmares for the rich and well-to-do who prized cleanliness and shiny things over the grit of reality. Although officially named Low Town, nocreature really called it that. If Sun City could be called "The Great Swan of the East", then its dirty bottom could only be called: The Cloaca.
The middle level—or Midtown—had bridging arcs over glass-covered spaces that obscured the level below. It was the biggest of the three, with streets that were wide enough to accommodate traffic in both directions and walkways.The stores were less covered in protective materials; less pornography and visually offensive ads were on the several screens around the area; even ripperdocs had licenses.
And finally, High Town, better known as Corpo Heights, housed the elite. Everything they could possibly need could be found there. Built with pegasus cloud technology and techno-wizardry, the top of the city stood literally above everything else, connected to Midtown by wide, sturdy rainbow bridges, and several layers of security. It shone in the sunlight like a silver beacon made of the purest essence of Capitalism forged into the spirals of economic value.
The lives of everycreature were decided here, whether they knew it or not. Where celebrities, magnates, world leaders, and CEOs rubbed elbows while drinking beverages so expensive a single bottle could set up a regular pony for months.
It had been almost a decade since Neon Clove had left The Cloaca to study music. Before it had been turned into the festering cancer under the city it had become. And as she thought about the city she couldn't help but feel like coming back was a mistake after all.
No! She took a deep breath and started off again, head held high.
For Neon Clove, it was not just a Corpo paradise. Nor just the rundown, gang-breeding, violent, grime-covered ghetto festering under the fat belly of Megacorp Plaza and the government's exceedingly tall buildings.
No, Sparkle dammit, for Neon Clove, the Cloaca was home. She had grown up here, in better times. Sure, at ground level darkness made the place gloomy, far away from the clouds and blue sky. Oil and coolant and water dripped down to puddle on the street she trotted through, stagnant and warm because no matter how much breeze came from the bay,because all the concrete and metal blocked it from going through.
And sure, she would fully admit that it wasn't as visually… nice as the rest of the city, but it had its charms! Just like the rest of the world, life continued here, and while the elite would never stop looking at it with an upturned nose, everycreature did what they could to make it not only livable… but alive. Hearth’s Warming was celebrated here just like elsewhere. Winter Wrap Up still took place. The Summer Sun Celebration was observed… and Nightmare Night felt perfect every year. Including this one.
The locals had done everything they could to live up to the approaching Nightmare Night holiday. True, it would never compare to the annual parade that spanned both Midtown and Corpo Heights, but the orange and white lights, the skeletons and (hopefully) fake giant spiders, and even the odd holographic display of ghouls and ghosts were just natural matches to the stripped paint walls, the hanging, broken cables, crumbling buildings, scurrying rodents and such.
She waited for a rat the size of a cat to drag something that might've been alive at some point across the street. She followed the critter with her eyes and, when it skittered to a safe distance, skipped over the slimy and smelly trail it had left behind.
She paused by a frontstore, where she could barely see a screen light up with flashy colors and bright strobes. She couldn't make out much of what it showed with the heavily reinforced yet scratched plexiglass and metal bars in the way, or the colorful decals of Nightmare Moon's fanged face blocking large parts of it, but she knew that commercial by heart, so much so that even if she could only see the lights and colors, she still knew exactly what was on screen.
She couldn't help but grin just as big as the legendary alicorn of darkness.
That commercial was, after all, the reason she was in a hurry. She turned away, the melody playing alongside the video already in her mind as she hummed away.
She might be in the underbelly of the city. She might be poor by most standards. She might not have a job that couldn't end her life prematurely… but she—Neon Clove—was the luckiest netrunner/musician in the city.
…One…
Sweetie's ears twitched, turned and focused around. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"You are the luckiest mare alive, Miss Belle," Shades said, walking across the room to stand before her. "Nocreature has ever taken a singing role in the Nightmare Night parade!"
Her manager's name wasn't Shades, of course, but Sweetie Belle liked to call her that in her mind. A small, petty act of rebellion against her overlord. Her owner: Stern Label.
It wasn't often that she could feel glad that under her soft coat she was mostly machine by now, or that cyborgs were a thing at all, but whenever she dealt with her so-called Manager, it was a blessing to be able mechanically to hold back a sneer of disgust.
Sweetie could seem like the most interested, engaged and downright invested conversationalist anycreature could meet. Others would love her as she projected her inner Rarity to the world, while her empty smile and eye-like lenses would fail to communicate her true feelings. She could essentially set her body to a certain numbered reaction, and just let them talk away.
Her manager's augmentations included partial cranial reconstruction, and a sunglasses addition that allowed her to use her managerial software more easily. It was proprietary and included I.C.E. specifically designed to protect the company's assets. Shades wasn't a particularly smart jab, and Sweetie knew it, but it was something.
Sweetie had no proof, but she suspected that hidden behind the I.C.E.there would be a killswitch for unruly creatures who didn't know their place. Like Yumi.
The yak had enjoyed a relatively successful career as a company-manufactured Heavy Metal rocker, with an also company-manufactured reputation for heavy drinking, partying, orgies, and such. Yumi had started strong, and although her popularity had declined recently, everycreature had expected a solid comeback.
Sadly, that manufactured image of the hardcore Yak from Tartarus turned out to be nothing more than a lie.
A more demure, secretly kind Yak did not exist. Even Yona was closer to what they had in mind and had presented to the public. But Yumi had the ability to turn into a raging, "violent" maniac on stage, milking the performance and her presence for every single drop of adrenaline-fueled hard rock.
Yet, shortly after accidentally letting out a smidge of truth during an interview, where the yak had admitted to liking fluffy things and relaxing at home with incense and new-age music in the background… it hadn't taken a month for Yumi to be gone.
At first, Sweetie had thought the yak had just been fired, but her private messages to her fellow singer went ignored, and failed to even deliver to her personal accounts. She had done a little sleuthing herself—sadly limited, so that she wouldn't draw the ire of her overlords—and found out that Yumi's family hadn't heard from her since the day of the interview.
She had to wonder not only what had happened to her acquaintance, but also what crazy plan they had for replacing her now. It wasn't like LightnSound would just let the brand drop out of the public's eye. They wanted money, and there existed no money in a stagnant property.
"Miss Belle?"
Sweetie snapped out of her dark thoughts. She sensed her ears twitching in an emulation of embarrassment. Could she still actually feel embarrassment?
Sweetie Belle didn't answer immediately, pretending to be content for now, just nodding and staring out the window, down the spires, past the clouds into the tiny inhabitants of Midtown, so far below. The themes for the Nightmare Night parade were already changing the view of the city. Far below, she could see the orange lights, and up here, little holograms of bats and thestrals fluttered about.
It brought her memories of a time, long left behind, when things had been simpler and Nightmare Night had been spent with friends, family and even Princess Luna herself.
"That I am, Stern Label," she finally said with her usual, practiced, plastic smile. "I know that not just anycreature would get this honor, especially for the first time in history to have a singer lead the parade. I have been really blessed by LightnSound's kindness."
The mare nodded, smiling pleasantly at the submissiveness of her pet.
'Play the little game. You can see what I do. Who I'm with. What I eat. But you cannot read my mind. My thoughts are free and they are hidden behind a mask of who I used to be. I'm so much machine I can consciously prevent it from moving at all. My heart may be plastic but my Heart is still true.'
"Indeed. Tickets have sold out for the parade and the concert at the Dome. We've had to secure additional resources for streaming. The whole world will be watching you!" She walked over to stand next to Sweetie, her slick black suit pristine and almost shiny under the lights. She was pretty, but still an unwelcome companion.
Shades looked honest. She even spoke with calm confidence, an almost invitingly empathic tone to her voice.
If only Sweetie Belle could believe her words were heartfelt. If only she could trust her manager as a friend and mentor. If only sharing her thoughts and fears wouldn't make her a target for an army of company psychologists, HR and PR specialists suffocating her into a compliant little bot, forgetting that underneath the metal she was real.
Sweetie sighed. Internally, of course. She didn't really need to breathe now, so to the world outside of her body she simply looked like the ponyfication of smiles and agreement. Inside she had exhaled in exasperation that just didn't make it to her face.
"And the world will be mine," Sweetie said, repeating the unprompted empty promises her manager always threw her way. 'What am I supposed to do with the world, even if that were true? What does that promise even mean to me?'
"All yours." Shades seemed definitely more wistful about the concept than Sweetie had ever been. Yet again she regretted signing up at all with LightnSound, but what choice did she have now, so late in the game?
"Are you well, Sweetie? You seem low on energy," Shades asked after a moment, her bright blue eyes flashing behind the dark glasses as she studied her. "You are not coming up with a cold, are you?"
"N-no." Sweetie forced a bigger smile. "I'm fine. Besides, I don't think I can actually have a cold. Don't you need 'ganic lungs for that?"
"Organic," Shades corrected, frowning slightly at the use of slang. "Are you sure? You might be mostly cybernetic now, Sweetie, but that creative little brain of yours is still very organic. We could plug you into the O.N.M. and have you relax into sleep tonight. Make sure you are well rested and fresh for the parade."
"I'm certain! I want to perform so bad! That and—" she took a cue from her memories of Rarity to almost sensually walk alongside the large window "—I don't want to miss the view. I don't think we've stayed in a hotel room this high, even in Griffonia! And that was on a cliffside!"
Shades giggled. It sounded false. Like her manager was trying to be reassuring when there was really nothing funny about the situation. "Yes, our fortunes have indeed improved." She sighed melodramatically and headed to the door. "Make sure you don't stay up too late, Sweetie. It's a big day tomorrow."
"I won't!"
The other mare stopped at the door. "By the way, I got word this morning that the Nightmare Ticket was found."
"Oh?" Sweetie asked, trying to sound excited. The prospect of having to hang out with another fan made her feel slightly sick. She'd have to be at her best, happiest and peppiest while somecreature who only knew her at her most superficial level would gush about how wonderful she was.
They never noticed how she truly felt. It was all about them. They didn't care for the mare under the chrome; they just cared that they were sitting next to the shiny exterior.
"Yes," Shade confirmed, also unaware of her ward's thoughts. "Some mare from the Clo—ahem, from Low Town."
Sweetie actually felt surprised. She turned her attention to her manager. "That's unusual."
"Very," Shade grumbled. "The ticket wasn't supposed to even circulate in one of those… areas." She sniffed. "She must have purchased the winning ticket in another part of town, which at least indicates she is able to pretend to be of better pedigree. We will make sure she's cleaned up and dressed properly before she meets you, of course."
The mare grimaced, then perked up. "I think PR can spin it into some sort of symbolism. Top to bottom music is universal?" She hummed. "I'll suggest they work around a concept like that. I'm sure they'll come up with something."
For all the mumbo-jumbo about the randomness of the 'Nightmare Ticket', and how anycreature anywhere could get it, the truth of the matter was that it could be indeed won by anycreature… as long as they purchased it within accepted areas. The ticket would usually go to a creature that had the buying power to spend on products.
It helped her brand.
"We'll screen her thoroughly." Shades rolled her shoulders. "Anyway, we must rest. It's a big night tomorrow."
"Any chance I'll be able to make time to visit Apple Bloom or Scootaloo after the concert?" Sweetie asked, despite herself.
Shades paused at the door, as if thinking. "I believe we can request some R&R time from Corporate."
"Oh." Sweetie glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "What about Twilight?"
Shades' attitude changed. "The Princess hasn't been seen outside of Canterlot for several years now."
Sweetie grimaced. The last few times she had tried talking to Twilight, it had backfired, with her messages being intercepted. It was, however, a well-known fact that Twilight was not very fond of cyber-enhancements, and thus they had not talked since before Sweetie had moved out of Ponyville.
While Twilight had been the one to develop the science behind them, rumor had it that her aim had never been the technomagical revolution that had transformed all of Equestria.
What had started with magi-tech to help those in need had become wilful desecration of bodies in order to replace flesh with metal and Sweetie… she personified everything that Twilight hated about her magical technology.
Sweetie Belle just hoped that one day Twilight would just acknowledge her.
"I suppose." Sweetie sighed again. "Good night, Stern Label."
Sweetie watched her manager walk out of her room and turned to look outside once more, bringing up her internal chat app.
SB: I don't think she'll let me see you girls anytime soon.
SL: I really don't like her. She's really out to control you, Sweetie. You should just… I dunno, break the contract and go somewhere else where she can't find you! We'll help.
AB: She really likes to pretend that she cares for you, but breaking the contract might not be the best idea. You should figure out a way to get out legally.
Sweetie rolled her eyes.
SB: I guess I'll see what tomorrow brings.
AB: Just remember to stand up for yourself if she crosses a line.
SL: And if she does, all you need to do is call us. Or just me. I'll make her regret it!
A small smile graced Sweetie's lips.
SB: Goodnight, girls.
The spider-like metallic contraption pulled away from Neon Clove, and she blinked a few times before focusing on Gentle Cut's face.
It wasn't his real name, of course, but that was what he went by, so Neon just rolled with it. Who was she to tell the aging earth pony his made-up name was hilariously creepy?
"So?" he asked, peering into her eyes critically, "whaddaya think?"
Neon didn't answer immediately. Although she could see him, her focus zeroed-in on the graphic display on her eye. She obtained root access to the device, adjusting settings as she went and removing the outdated crap MagTech had installed in it while replacing it with her own homebrew OS and ICE.
She wasn't sure what kind of security they had at the studio, but she planted some fake safety measures that could be disabled and would grant the user access to a surface-level setting that emulated the standard layers a competent runner could shift through quickly.
Certainly hefty enough to look legit, and yet simple enough for security to 'disable' and give false readings while leaving the actual device alone. Their runners would need to be absolute wizards to catch the difference, but she was confident enough in her work.
"Checks out. Hell, if I had enough power I could punch a hole through the Moonflow with this. How does it look from the outside?" she asked.
"Don't be punchin' them holes in the goddamned Moonflow. Not 'less y'wanna fry." Gentle studied her obvious implants. "Don't look 'muffin' special," he mumbled, "be 'barrassed t'install dem glittery doodads if real." He smirked. "'Xpect ya t' run 'round sayin' 'oh my gosh!' and 'daddy'."
"I'm not calling you 'daddy'."
"Better off for it," he replied, his small smirk playing on his lips. He trotted around behind her, and she could feel the panel on the side of her head being prodded, even with no real discomfort to go with the odd feeling. "Them's two updates. Vision, processing power. Need somethin' else?"
He turned a large monitor around, showing her a generic pony shape with wings and went back to poking in her head. "Gottem wings if'n want to go fer the princess look. Even flap."
She leaned back. She tried to glance over to him, but he smacked her gently on the head, an indication that he still had his hooves occupied. "I don't want more chrome than necessary," she said with a chuckle. "You know how that can affect ponies… but I've heard some disturbing rumors about POE vulnerabilities."
"Yes. Well. Dem's urban myths," Gentle Cut muttered. She heard him tap his hoof on the floor a couple of times and fought the urge to smile. "Reckon I've got somethin' I've been workin' on, if yer interested."
'Yessss!' "I knew coming to you was the best idea, Gentle. In order to impress the best, I need work from the best!"
"Don't thank me yet," he replied, moving away from her to rummage through his equipment and then the sanitized container. "Experimental, see? 'N yer th' one that gets spending the next couple hours cleanin' up them settings."
"How… experimental?" Clove asked, dubious.
"The 'I'll give you a discount' kind."
"Good enough for me!"
He used one of his mechanical claws to pick out the piece he wanted. "Plus." He glanced at her. "It's not going to be pleasant."
She snorted as he walked behind her again. "Better unpleasant than dea-deee-dea-oww! The hell are you doing back there?!"
"Shutit. Said it going to be unpleasant. D'you know how hard it'll be to make yer head not look like you stuck a plate innit?"
"I thought you meant if I needed to use it!"
She felt him prod. Some pressure and the usual-yet-unusual feeling of something being moved around inside her head without actually feeling what it was. "Crap. I wonder if this will mess with your horn."
"What?!"
"Nothin'. Shut up 'n' start pingin' whenner tell ya."
"Un bel dì, vedremo…"
The hall echoed Sweetie's voice as she sang. She stood on top of the parade car that would be carrying her at the front of the whole procession, cables and wires linking into her hooves and back, hidden by her dress.
She was supposed to be Nightmare Moon in the parade, dressed in blues and holographic stars and four wings, all leathery. She had shiny metallic attachments to her hooves that emulated claws. Her eyes had shifted colors many times that morning, searching for the perfect hue that would eerily light up as she sang.
She had tried telling them that Nightmare Moon hadn't looked anything like that. But they had looked at her like she was crazy. It was a legend, nothing more. Who cared as long as it was visually stunning?
How could they forget Nightmare Moon? Sure, creatures these days had enough to fear from other, fellow creatures, or even the Moonflow, but Nightmare Moon had cast the entire world into darkness!
In a slightly ironic twist, right now, Sweetie felt more like Luna: lost in a world she should recognize, but unable to really make sense of things. The large warehouse, empty of anything but display cars and a few technicians, she felt as if the heavy silence created the perfect environment emphasizing just how alone she felt at that moment, and yet it felt comforting to sing without an audience.
"levarsi un fil di fumo
sull'estremo confin del mare."
She took a physically unnecessary deep breath, her voice lowering to a deeper tone as she continued.
"E poi la nave appare.
Poi la nave bianca
entra nel porto,
romba il suo saluto…"
"Okay," a technician spoke up, sticking his head out from behind the curtains. "That's good for voice clarity. Can you try one of your newer songs? Whatever you were singing is nice, but I'll need to make sure the synchronization is working with the current scheduled tracks."
"Oh." Sweetie nodded. "Right. Sorry."
"No problem. Let's synchronize you with the system, the more control you have, the better, right?"
"Right," Sweetie repeated. "Of course."
She extended her being into the devices, letting her senses expand through the software that would allow her to control the lights, instruments, the trapdoors and effects, then linked into the schedule which contained all of the actual information that would pass through her systems and her brain for maximum effect.
Suddenly she didn't feel like hesitating.
She was hip!
She was proud!
She was delighted to be here!
She was sensual, and she felt like dancing as she sang one of her hit songs!
She swayed her flank to the tune, imagining the room packed with creatures, all of them here to see her! To hear her music! To—
"And we're all set!" the technician's voice reached her just as all of those feelings were turned off like a switch.
She staggered back when the connection broke, feeling dirty. Used. Worse-off because she wanted that euphoria back in her instead of her depressive thoughts, which now seemed even heavier after that rush, even if she knew it had been artificial. Like the unholy combination of herself and Pinkie Pie being forced into her body—if it even belonged to her anymore—and took over.
That hadn't been her.
She sobbed silently, without making a sound or changing her expression for the world outside to see.