//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Emancipation // by Sukasa //------------------------------// A lot of people wonder just how I’ve managed to make it with the lifestyle I have.  I hold down a job and an income, and own the home I live in.  Most people won’t think much of that, until they consider that I’m an MLP rather than human.  My story’s actually quite boring apart from the beginning and when the Race Rumble kicked off.  You could accurately say that my life even starting wasn’t really anything planned, more of a...  couple of circumstances that led to me becoming an unexpected member of my family.  But that’s how the whole shebang got started, on the side of a road somewhere out near Coombs.  Remind me to share that one with you some time as well.  Mom and Dad say my ‘brother’ Noah (adoptive, mind you) was the one who actually found me way back then though neither of us were old enough at the time to remember much of anything.  I used to be pretty reliant on him, but nowadays I make do quite comfortably. The question that everyone seems to want to ask me the most is how I got involved in the Race Rumble back in the 2030s.  Some people like to call it the "Species Showdown", but that's hardly fair to half the supporters of equine rights; there were as many humans as MLPs fighting for those. Funnily enough, it should be noted that I hadn’t at all intended to get involved, and it wasn’t until the Vancouver bombing that I got directly involved in the mess.  The whole thing had been going on for a while before that, but to save us all some time I’ll pick up from the day before, which should give you a good chance to understand what was going on at the time.  Thinking back, I really was a different pony back then - a lot younger, and almost laughably naive.  Everyone has to start somewhere though. It might as well have been yesterday, my memory of that day is so clear.  We’d been painting my room the night before and the fumes had meant I couldn’t sleep there, which put me out on the couch that night.  Of course, Noah just had to have his coffee in the morning, and with my penchant for being a very light sleeper it inevitably woke me up when the machine began sputtering and boiling as usual.   Letting out a groan, I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow.  Having to sleep on the couch last night because of repainting my walls was bad enough; It’d slipped my mind that Noah was also working this morning.  That coffee machine would be loud enough to wake the neighborhood if you turned it on in the street.  With my pillow wrapped around my ears, the gurgling coming from the offending brewer wasn't blocked but at least it was quieted enough that I could ignore it. After the machine finished its cycle, I rolled back into a comfortable position and tried to get back to sleep.  Noah seemed to have a different idea however as he padded over to the couch, steaming mug of coffee in hand.   “Mornin’, fuzzy.”  Noah’s smile was big enough to hear, the way he said that.  So much for getting any more sleep in the next half hour, especially with him getting ready for work.   “Mmph.  You’re too loud this morning.”  Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes was difficult; hooves aren’t really the best appendages for anything that requires finesse.  I leaned back on my haunches to make room for Noah I tightened my blanket slightly, enjoying the warmth it still held.   “Thanks,” said Noah, putting his mug down on his end table in order to give me a quick hug that I happily leaned into.   By now, introductions are probably in order.  My name is Vera Valeri.  I am an earth-model MLP, or My Little Pony if you prefer the full version.  MLPs are a genetically-engineered species literally marketed as pets and toys for children or whoever else can stomach the four digit price tag on us - five digits in special cases.  As with that old show we’re based on there are pegasus and unicorn ‘models’ or species around as well, but they’re a lot rarer.  Being an artificial species doesn’t affect my day to day life much, and Noah doesn’t really bring it up or even acknowledge that MLPs have only been around a couple decades.  He feels we’re just as legitimate as any other living being, and he’s not afraid to let anyone else know.  I don’t really think about it much myself, since I’m able to survive well enough with his help even though there are more than a few complications that tend to arise because of some legal stupidities.  There’s more to it of course, but that doesn’t really matter right now.   The alarm clock on the TV stand glowed a stark red in contrast to the darkened, colourless surroundings of the room.  Ten past four in the morning; I still had nearly three hours before I needed to be up.  I sighed and laid my cheek on the armrest.  “I still think your job starts ridiculously early.  Why can’t your boss just have you start with everyone else?”   “I do start with everyone else.  On my team, at least.”   The only reply I could muster was to groan, again.  “You know what I meant."  Noah only chuckled at my retort.  He had to know I was right, though.  There’s no way getting up like this is a healthy thing to be doing five days a week.  Sometimes I just worry about Noah’s health.   I must have fallen asleep shortly after that, because the next thing I can remember is my alarm going off, reminding me that I was still rather stiffly bunched up on one side of the sofa.  I instinctively reached over to hit ‘snooze’ on the alarm where it normally sat on my headboard.  Of course, I’d forgotten that I wasn’t in my bed, and while trying to reach for the alarm I lost my balance and promptly found myself nursing a bruised forehead on the floor.  At least I didn’t smack my muzzle this time, it hurts when you do that.  A careful roll onto my barrel had me steadily rising onto my hooves.  Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, I pieced myself together enough to turn the alarm off.   “I’m up...  I’m up.”   Barely awake and with my head hanging tiredly, I trudged down the hall into the washroom.  Just from the greasy feel around the fur surrounding my withers, a shower was not going to be optional.  That said, it would help if the room wasn’t nearly pitch black for me.  It’s been years, but I’m still terrified of being somewhere unfamiliar when I can't see and even familiar places could bring up some unwelcome memories when they're dark enough.  Having night blindness and getting lost in the woods on a new moon will do that to you.   Stretching up to rest my forehooves on the counter, I probed the wall with the side of my muzzle, feeling for the light switch and nudging it on.  Almost instantly my eyes squeezed shut, and I hissed in pain.  That was a stupid idea, turning on the bulbs while almost looking directly at them.  After opening my eyes carefully and letting the spots fade from my vision, I took a good look at myself.   Yep, still me.  Even without having felt it, it was pretty apparent that I wasn’t going anywhere without a good shower - my hair was sticking out every which way again instead of running straight and my fur was mussed as well.  That crazed mare in the mirror looked like some sort of ridiculous mad scientist, and the sight coaxed a guffaw from me.  Switching my attention back to my physical condition I became quite aware of the sweat in my hair from trying to work that paint roller last night too - probably why I felt greasy earlier..  Leaning back, I pushed off of the counter and landed gently on all four hooves.  A careful shove from my rear hoof nudged the door shut before I walked over to the tub, my hooves clacking loudly on the tile floor.  I feel sorry for Noah; I bet the tile is just freezing for him in the mornings.  If nothing else, at least with Noah working hours before me, there wouldn’t be any worry of him using up all the hot water.  Getting a cold shower instead of a warm one is not a pleasant way to wake up.   Feeling like a mare now, and not your local McDonalds meal (not that I'd ever had one, being herbivorous and all), I stepped out of the shower and resisted the temptation to shake water everywhere. Grabbing a towel off the rack with my teeth, I tossed the corner of it over my withers, then reached around and pulled it down from the other side.  Awkward, but it worked well enough.  I’ll admit that trying to dry yourself off is not the easiest task in the world when all you have are hooves.  I managed to get the towel wrapped around my chest and barrel, but actually rubbing down was out of the question thanks to how every towel I’ve ever tried to use seems to just latch onto my fur.  I did what little I could to keep the towel from hanging open and dripping everywhere I walked, and trotted over to the door.  Rearing back, I planted one hoof on the door jamb and used the other to hook the handle downwards and then backwards.  That was one thing I was grateful for – Noah had made sure every door here had had its knob changed to a handle so I could open the doors if they were closed.  With the door out of the way, I padded down to the kitchen, hooves clacking noisily on the tile floor.   Noah always kept a nice amount of stuff around to eat, but my usual breakfast was a simple affair, just some cereal and milk.  A lot of people seem to think ponies just eat hay and oats, but it’s not true.  We can actually eat a lot of foods, even stuff I personally wouldn’t consider, even so far as a very small amount of meat.  I just prefer the simple things; cereal, fruits, and similarly-palatable foods.  Breakfast does always bring up one rather notable annoyance if you’re a pony.  Despite MLPs having been around for decades, nobody’s ever really thought to adapt utensils to our body structure.  No forks, no knives, and especially no spoons.  It’s awkward.  You’ll never hear a pony’s eating habits referred to as dignified because of that; without utensils, MLPs are stuck with no alternative but to eat directly from the plate or bowl.  You can imagine how messy that gets with something like cereal and milk.   Finishing up and awkwardly using a napkin or two (okay, three.  I’m bad at that) to get what remained of a milkstache off, I carefully filed the dishes into the washer and checked myself over.  My fur was dry enough to at least keep me warm and not drip anywhere.  Trotting back down the hall to the bathroom, I pulled the towel off from around me and crudely tossed it onto the rack, tugging down on a corner to make sure it wouldn’t fall to the floor later.   Now, to try and straighten out that mess one might call a mane on a better day.  Getting back up onto the counter, I bit onto my own brush, one that Noah had fitted with an elastic loop to fit over my hooves last Christmas and slipped that on.  Thankfully my mane is pretty easy to tame, and it doesn’t tangle much.  A few knots near the end, but the rest of it straightened out really easy.  With that taken care of, I was almost ready to head out to my own job.  Hoisting a pair of saddlebags onto my back, I opened the front door and headed out.  Locking the door behind me wasn’t as easy as opening it, but between an oversized key handle and a little balancing, I was able to get it locked.  I trotted out to the road, and cantered down towards where I worked.   It was about a half-hour later that I got to the retirement home I work at.  I don’t get paid much, but actually having an income is something most ponies don’t get to experience, so I’m not complaining...  Too much.  They pay me a lot less for what I do compared to what they’d pay a human, which smarts a bit- I had to learn to do my job the same as anyone else, so it stings a little that it’s okay to pay me far less than minimum wage for my time.  If I’m doing the exact same job as any of my coworkers, shouldn’t I be paid the same?  You'll never hear me voice that complaint, though.  At least I even have a job- I wouldn't want to risk losing it if I complained.   I trotted over to the main entrance, and reared up to press the doorbell.  The retirement home sticks to the government building codes pretty tightly, so all the doors are absolutely impossible for ponies to open from the outside.  Not really the greatest situation for me (no other ponies work here), but some of the other staff here understand and they generally don’t mind opening the doors for me.  Setting back down on all four hooves, I saw Jenny get up from behind the reception desk and walk over towards the doors.  I smiled gently, and waved as best I could.  Jenny’s one of the nicer receptionists, and I think that she has a bit of a soft spot for ponies in general - I recall that a while back she was talking with one of the other receptionists about wanting to get a pony for herself, though I was a bit busy and never got to find out why.   “Hi, Vera!  How’rya doing today?”  Jenny always smiles a little too much whenever I see her, and I would love to know whether it’s just me or every pony she gets a chance to see.  I quickly stepped inside so she wouldn't be left holding the door for too long.  Despite how nice she is, Jenny always makes me at least a little nervous. I really don’t understand what she sees in ponies and it’s not like she’s wanting for friends or anything when she’s not at work – she never talks about having a significant other either.  I’m not sure what to think of where that train of thought leads.   “I’m mostly okay.  Kind of hoping it’ll be one of those quiet days, y’know?”  My ear flicked around.  “Just so that I’ll be able to relax at least a little.”   Jenny’s expression softened.  “Yeah...  You have that big thing over in Vancouver tomorrow, right?  When are you leaving for that, after your shift is over?”   Groan.  I’d been trying NOT to think about the rally tomorrow.  Noah has been arranging this rally, for “sentient equinoid rights” for a while now, and it happens tomorrow.  I mean it’s a great thing and all but I’m not really that comfortable with the idea of something splashy like that and honestly, some of the threats he’s gotten have been rather explicit.  I just worry about him I suppose, I don’t want anything bad to happen to Noah.  I’ve mentioned that a couple times to him, but he’s dead-set on going through with the rally tomorrow in spite of the threats and nasty letters, so we’re leaving for Vancouver after I get home from work.   “Yeah, after I get home from work.  I need to see if Noah can pick up the cheque from HR before I leave, too.”  I ambled through to the employee area and shrugged off my saddlebags.  When I got “hired”, one of my coworkers was considerate enough to swap locker trays with me so I could get one nearer the floor that I could actually reach.  Combo locks are a pain, but I’ve figured out a way to get them open on my own, as long as they’re clean.  Sitting down, I grabbed the lock between my forehooves and bit down on the knob carefully.  It took a few minutes of fiddling with the lock, but it was easy enough to get open so I could stash my bags.  Clipping my ID lanyard around my neck I shook myself out of my thoughts and focused on my job today, pacing out of the break room and towards the care home’s social room.   I took one look around the room, and groaned.  Sure, Ms. Jenkins was sweet, but I can fairly confidently say that Mr. Willner does not like me, nor any other pony.  He keeps saying we’re some ‘aberration against god’ or whatever.  He complains about a lot though; the computer,the nurses, the weather...  He’d probably hate the TV too, if he hadn’t grown up with one.  Thankfully, the last resident in the room right now was Mr. Feli, and he’s really quiet and doesn’t ever make a fuss.  I kind of like him, if only because he’s a bit like me really and really cooperative.  Maybe I will be able to relax today.     No, I didn’t get to relax today.  Between Mr. Willner apparently skipping his sedatives this morning, deciding that simply mouthing off about MLPs wasn’t enough and going at me with his cane, Mr. Feli apparently following suggestions from anyone instead of just the nursing staff and helping, and me being the only one in the room while Carrie was getting lunch for everyone, the unfortunate end result for me was a pair of very large bruises on my shoulders.  Tip for anyone interested: just because someone is over ninety years old, it does not mean they can’t still hurt you when they want to.  Having shoved my ID back into my lockbox I grabbed my saddlebags and carefully draped them over my back.  I shuffled out of the retirement home and made my way back home, head bowed.  It wasn’t much of a shift, but it still left me beat.  Er...  Well, tired.  You know what I mean.   As I walked past a small greenbelt, I turned and saw an ash-grey pegasus stallion making his way out of the trees towards me, ruffling his wings slightly.  Grinning, I relaxed from my trot and sat down.  He made a small jump over the ditch and sat down beside me.   “Hi, Wolf.”   “Vera.  Thought you’d be in Vancouver by now.”  I always found Wolf a little funny.  It seems like he just takes himself just a little too seriously, considering the small size of the feral pack he lead.   Ferals.  That term just doesn't want to roll off the tongue.  Every time I hear the term, I think of foaming-at-the-mouth raccoons or something like the one I saw last year on TV.  "Feral" MLPs are nothing like that, though.  Wolf’s little group is generally more civilized than some people I’ve met - just look at what happened to me today - and the only thing that really sets them apart from myself is that most of them were either born into that life or were runaways from rough lives.  They’re quite happy to make their own way outside of “civilized society”, and honestly they do fairly well for themselves.   A while back I suppose I almost “went feral” after a rough patch with Noah but Wolf, despite being the one who used to encourage me to come and join his little herd, actually refused it and sent me back with my tail between my legs, literally.  I suppose we’ve been friendly acquaintances since then.   “Nope, we leave tonight.  How’s your herd?”   “We’re fine.  Seems a couple of the new ponies thought they’d try and make up some chant or another for the group- some sort of thing they did when they were down with another camp near Ladysmith or somewhere.  Maybe Chemainus.  Kept half of us up all night with ‘QB P this, QB P that’ until we shut them up.”   I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Wolf’s group being kept up by a pair of cheerleader wannabes.  “Well, I hope you got enough sleep all the same.”  Climbing to my hooves, I motioned Wolf to walk with me.  He just stood there however, and shook his head.   “Can’t.  I’m in to get some stuff for the group.  I’ll see you round, Vera.  Take care in Vancouver, kay?”   I hesitated a bit before replying.  “Yeah, sure.  I’ll be careful.  See you later, okay?  Try not to get caught by Animal Control!”   His frown surprised me.  “Don’t crack that one around Water Lily.  She nearly did get caught last night.  Wasn’t AC either.”   Wasn’t Animal Control?  That would mean...  Was that one civilian trapper was back with a vengeance?  You’d think she would have learned her lesson the first time after getting hauled off to jail for a few weeks for “endangering the public”.  “Oh no, I thought we got rid of that twit after last time?”   “Nope.  She’s at it again, and this time the traps are even nastier.  That’s another thing I need to do when I go in, is let the cops know traps are being set.  We might not get along much, but neither of us wants to see anypony get hurt because of shit like that.”   “Yeah...”  Nodding, I rose to my hooves.  I’d have to be more careful too; I’m just as apt to be targeted as Wolf’s herd if that nutcase is back at it.  I'm glad Lily's okay, though.  I've met her; she's a really sweet girl.  Feral all her life, if the name didn't tip you off.  I'm kind of surprised Wolf would go to the cops himself considering the run-ins he’s has with them before.   Wolf passed me a curt nod before turning to trot into town.  I’m still surprised the Animal Control officers haven’t taken a page from that trapper and seriously gone after his herd considering the trouble they tend to get into when ‘searching’ for supplies, but I guess they have either some understanding worked out, or the AC people understand that the QB Ponies only scavenge because they have to.  Either that, or Wolf’s just really, really lucky.  I turned around and continued on home myself, now worrying about both Noah tomorrow and Wolf and his herd. I continued on my way home, meandering down side streets and passing through a couple small parks.  After a good twenty minutes at a relaxed pace I rounded the last corner before home, the porch light lit and bright.  Noah must have replaced the bulb.  I let out a small sigh and trotted up onto the walkway past the garage, Noah’s car trunk open with a couple of suitcases already packed in.   I worked the door open and walked in, dropping my saddlebags by the entrance for now.   “Hey, Noah.  I’m back from work.”  I called out, looking around to see if I could find him.  He didn’t seem to be anywhere I could see, so I started to walk down the hall.  All the doors were closed though, so it didn’t seem like Noah was down here.  I was about to turn around and try to find him outside when I felt something wrap around just above my chest, and squeeze.  Looking back, I'm surprised I could hear anything over my own yelp.   “BOO!”  My heart skipped a few beats before I realized what had happened.  Noah must have hidden somewhere when I came in, and then decided to have a little fun at my expense.  Closing my eyes, I concentrated on breathing steadily to calm myself, though there was no hiding my feelings from him, and Noah wound up on the receiving end of the coldest glare I could muster.   “Don’t DO that.  You scared the heck out of me.”  I whined, worming my way out of Noah’s grasp.  Turning around, I shot him a dirty look and sat down.  For his part, Noah just laughed me off and stood up.   “Sorry, you know I can’t resist.  How was work?”   If it were physically possible, I probably would have just shrank by a few inches.  “Rough.  One of the residents decided to take a few swings at me with his cane.  He didn’t hurt me, but I’ve got a couple bruises.”   Noah, for his part, managed to keep his cool, but judging by the tightening around his eyes, he wasn’t at all happy to hear what had happened.  “I’m...  sorry to hear that.  Well, at least your day’ll get better from here on out.”   I nodded.  “Yeah.  I met Wolf on the way here and we chatt-“   “Is that the name of your pegasus friend?  I don’t think you ever named him before.”   Really?  I hadn’t ever told Noah his name?  “I didn’t?  Weird.  But yeah, Wolf’s that guy who takes care of the other ponies around town who I’ve been friends with for a while now.”   “Vera, I have to ask.  Did he come up with the name himself?”   A good swat across his leg told Noah all he needed.  “What’s wrong with his name?”   Noah just chuckled and got up.  “Is your stuff packed?  If we leave soon, we might be able to catch an earlier ferry.  Would be better than waiting in line for an hour or two.”  Noah rubbed his chin as in deep thought, but knowing him he was just playing it up.  He nodded his head towards me, eyeing me for my response.   “Yeah, I got that done yesterday.  I’ll go get my stuff.”  I walked over to where my other pair of saddlebags had been lying beside the TV.  Tossing them on, I waited outside the door while Noah grabbed the last of his things and locked the house.   The trip to the ferry terminal, and the ride on one (we did actually manage to catch the earlier ferry) was blissedly uneventful.  In a way, it was very much the calm before the storm.  I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since, really.  I wouldn’t take any of it back, now, but if I knew what was going to happen I don’t think Noah would have ever gotten me into that car, let alone to Vancouver.   I...  I still have nightmares about what happened that day, even though I know how it all turned out.