Whump.
The lump of pony under the blanket shifted slightly. It was too early to wake up.
Whump.
'Why do they have to run the purifiers so early in the morning? Damn engineers, thinking they run the place.'
WHUMP.
'Oh right...they do.'
The bedraggled unicorn pulled the heavy blanket from his face, pushing up from the bed as he did so. He ran a hoof over his groggy face, rubbing sleep out of one eye. This is how the mornings went, with the water purifiers churning away, pistons pounding within the machine, dull thuds resonating throughout the network of caves that made up the Middle Housing Quarter. Living next to one only made it worse.
This was one of the downsides of living in Mantle City, the biggest coagulation of ponies, gryphons, and diamond dogs deep underground. It was a sort of monument to the industry and survival it took to live all the way down in the farthest reaches of the planet.
The unicorn rolled out of bed and onto all fours, shaking his head to alleviate the rest of the tiredness still clinging to his mind. He walked though the living room and into the kitchen, and paused, looking around, wondering what he could wolf down for breakfast.
Open the cabinet, he thought, feeling the magic pulse in his horn. The cabinet door took on a shimmering aura, and swung open revealing a few boxes and cans, mostly vegetables, pasta, and tomato sauce.
"Ugh, nothing to eat," he groaned out loud. He pushed it closed with magic, simultaneously opening another adjacent cabinet. It contained a myriad of cups, bowls, plates, and other assorted dishes. "Come onnn..." he droned. Approaching the last cabinet in the room, he flung it open in mild frustration. The magical force knocked a rectangular box from the shelf within down onto the counter. 'Cupcake Crunch' the box said, with an almost obnoxious jumble of multicolored cupcakes.
He floated the box of cereal over to the table, opening the coldbox in the corner and pulling a carton of milk out. The dish cabinet door opened and gave way to a plastic bowl and spoon. He pulled a stool out from under the table and sat. The box tipped, and out poured dozens of little cupcake-shaped sugary cereal.
"All the things a growing pony could need, plus more sugar than a dragon could handle," he lazily read off the box as the top of the carton of milk opened. It tipped over the bowl...and nothing came out. The unicorn gave it a magical shake, and a scant few drops of milk dripped onto the cereal.
His head hit the table in disappointment as the hollow carton fell to the floor.
---
The metal shutter-door to the small house slid open, with the young unicorn stepping out, adjusting the single saddlebag on his side. He closed the door back up, pulled a key out of his bag, and locked it. He started trotting off down the neighborhood tunnel, and glanced back at the doorway.
"Mr. Flood, Housing Quarter Level 7, Block 38, Mantle City. They sure love to tack titles onto everypony's name."
The unicorn named Flood adjusted his saddlebag again, continuing down the tunnel to the cart station. It was time to get to work.
The cart network was another of the underground's marvels. They not only ran throughout the entirety of Mantle City, but in and between all the other underground cities. There were dozens of these platforms all around the city, with carts stopping to board passengers every few minutes. The carts themselves were essentially topless metal boxes, about eight feet wide, with mesh seats in light metal frames welded to the inner sides. They were powered by steam engines, readied daily at the service stations by the engineer unicorns. All in all, it was the backbone of the workforce and transportation.
Flood stepped up onto the boarding platform, surrounded by ponies of various color and size. There were a few pegasi here and there. It was a shame about the pegasus ponies; they were so limited in flight, considering that there were only tunnels to zip down. Most of the pedestrian tunnels weren't more than 100 yards in length, and even then, the really long ones were the shafts that gave access to the Housing Quarters.
Sometimes, a cart station would need some emergency supplies, like a cart headlight or two, or an extra load of water or coal to power the engine. On rare occasions, a pegasus would be dispatched to bring the supplies to the station in question. However, the quickest access to a station would be through the cart shafts themselves. Flying through one of these at high speed would usually spell disaster, since the carts were constantly speeding along the tracks in the tunnels, and there wasn't much room to maneuver. Only in the most dire situations would the carts be halted so that a pegasus could take off and make it to a station.
Flood glanced over the cart schedule, looking for the time that the cart would arrive to take him downtown. The next ride would be here any minute now. There were hundreds of scheduled arrivals and departures on the board, going all over the city, some leaving for other towns like Soddington and New Manehattan.
"Transportation to Commerce Thoroughfare now arriving," a crisp, disembodied, tinny voice announced. "Please stand clear of the cart tracks." Flood looked in the direction the voice came from and found the source: a brass horn loudspeaker mounted above a tiny office. A pipe led from the horn along the wall and into the office, where at the other end a smaller horn was attached. A bored looking mare inside sat in front of it.
A low grinding and faint screeching could be heard coming down the cart shaft. Flood and a couple other ponies leaned to get a better look at the slowly approaching light heading towards the platform. Suddenly, the cart burst through the darkness of the shaft and into the light of the boarding platform, cart brakes bringing it to a fast stop with a loud screee.
Another pony inside the cart stepped away from a lever at the front. He unlatched the half-door of the cart, raised his head to the ceiling, and gave a shout of "All aboard!"
There was a clamor of hooves as the waiting ponies on the platform moved to board the cart and take their seats. The empty seats filled first, and soon there were murmured questions of "Mind if I sit here?" and "This seat taken?"
Flood took a seat close to the door, next to a stallion who had a strong odor of coal. Great, he thought, I was worried I'd be sitting next to a rosebed on the ride to work. Letting his saddlebag slide to the floor with a sigh, Flood sunk lower in his seat, closing his eyes and relaxing his body.
"Cart downtown, departin' now," came the call of the driver and conductor.
"Please stand clear of the cart tracks," was the answer from the mare in the platform office.
The cart shuddered as the driver pulled the lever down, and lurched forward in acceleration. It quickly picked up speed. Flood shifted in his seat, listening to the mesmerizing chk-chk of the cart flying along the tracks, the hiss of the steam engine at the front becoming white noise, drowning out the small talk between passengers. Flood felt the familiar caress of sleep encircling his head, and he dozed off.
---
The light was blindingly bright. And he felt hot. Too hot, almost like he was being roasted alive. Somepony was dragging him out of bed, screaming something about a fire, and getting out of the house. It was his father, a look of fear splayed across his face. Dad was never scared like this. Flood was frantic, he had no idea what was happening. He held a hoof to his face to block out the light, and squinted out the window. What he saw shocked him to the core.
Fillydelphia was on fire. There were ponies carrying buckets of water, steam flowing from the brim as they rushed to the flames. But they didn't do anything. It only seemed to make the fire angry as it spread farther and farther. They dropped the buckets as they scrambled to get away, rushing towards a crowd of fleeing ponies.
"Flood, we have to get out NOW!" His father's voice was cracking.
Flood turned around at the sound of hooves on the floor. His mother, tightening a pair of saddlebags around her body with her mouth, came to a halt in the doorway of his bedroom. "Come on, sweetheart, we have to run!"
He took off at a brisk gallop out of his room, and down the stairs. There was smoke on the ceiling, coming from an inferno that engulfed what was once the den, and was slowly making its way into the small foyer. Flood's father was in the front doorway, frantically beckoning them to follow. The three shot off, joining the fleeing ponies.
The heat and light were even more intense outside; extreme temperature made Flood feel like he was being smothered, and the bright beams coming from the sun made everything seem vividly white. Flood squinted through a gap in the crowd, and saw a smaller crowd of unicorns standing in front of a large hill. Their horns were all lit, directing magical energy towards the hill. Flood felt like he could almost hear their thoughts as they cast their magic: Dig. Dig. Make a hole. Move the earth. And indeed, the earth did move. Great chunks of dirt, grass, and rock were being ripped from the side of the hill as more unicorns from the frenzied crowd joined the pack to dig farther and farther into the hillside.
"We gotta help th-" Flood started to cry, but he was cut short as he stumbled and tripped over a moss-covered rock. He fell head over hooves as he plummeted to the ground. He called out to his parents, but they couldn't hear him over the screaming crowd and stampeding hooves. He tried to stand back up, but his right hindleg shot a piercing, agonizing pain through his nerves. He yelped in pain, and fell back to the ground.
But the pain persisted, and was growing in intensity. He rolled onto his back, and looked at his injured leg.
It was burning.
The flames traveled up his leg. They were at his flanks. The flames were coming faster. His breathing came faster too, shallow and rapid. He was panicking. He swatted at the flames on his flank with his foreleg. It caught fire too. He flailed it about in a fit of uncontrollable fear. He screamed.
Flood looked to the sky, the blinding white sky, as the fire overtook him.
---
The cart came to a screeching halt, throwing an unsuspecting Flood back into the waking world, and flat onto his face out of his seat and onto the floor of the cart. The stallion that sat next to him let out a chuckle. “Have a nice nap on the choo-choo, son?”
Flood glared at the stallion as he sat up from the floor, dusting off his coat. He picked his bag up and slung it back around his neck.
The conductor turned to face him. “Downtown, Commerce Thoroughfare.”
Flood stared blankly back up at him from his sitting position on the floor. He was still half asleep, trying to figure out what the colt was talking about. “I...what?”
“You gettin’ off, or what,” he shot back. He was getting a little impatient with the young unicorn who seemed set on ruining his morning.
"Oh! Right, sorry." Flood stammered, a little embarrassed. The conductor pulled the cart door open for him, and he stepped off the cart and onto the Commerce Station platform.
The stallion behind him gave another laugh. "Ha-ha! Take it easy, boy," he called after him as Flood walked off the platform, shaking his head.
He turned his gaze down the titan of a cave that was the Commerce Thoroughfare. It was a particularly long, tall stretch of cave, 5 stories of shops, services, and booths. The Thoroughfare reminded Flood of the Fillydelphia Mall, with businesses scrunched together, one after the other. The individual shops were like door-less houses dug into the sides of the cave, signs hanging above the entrances lit by floodlights. There was always a constant buzz of activity here; ponies of all kinds walking and flying between the different shops, going up and down the metal-frame elevators to the different floors. Standing just off the ground floor cart platform at the north end of the Thoroughfare, it was virtually impossible to see all the way down to the other end of the cave.
Flood set off down the walkway, passing a crew of unicorns in hard hats. They were working away at clusters of exposed pipe and cable that ran along the walls above the shop entrances. A few wisps of steam were fizzling out of a few of the pipe connectors. Sparks flew from a section of split cable. An impatient-looking shop owner stood behind the window of a darkened shop, leering at the engineer crew. Something was always breaking down in the underground, whether it was the steampipe system, the power cables, or in the worst of situations, the cart networks or water purifiers.
Flood passed one of his favorite markets on his walk to work each day: Mantle Grocery, where the basic rations were distributed, and where the Mantle City citizens spent hard-earned bits on extra food , snacks, and drinks. Things like sugar and sunflower seeds, which were taken for granted years ago, were a luxury in the underground. Flood thought back to the empty carton of milk he had back at home. He had gone through a whole gallon of milk in a week when it was supposed to last him for the next two.
Those that ran farms on the surface had, at first, been out of a job. And with no renewable food source, there was a looming crisis of a food shortage. Supplies found on the surface were finite. So the farm ponies collaborated with the unicorns to solve the problem. But with no sunlight, the future of underground farming looked dim.
Then somepony found a solution: the Unicorn Valued-Light Amplified Multi Photosynthesizer, or UVLAMP for short. It was an elongated, high-wattage light bulb attached to a high powered battery. The battery was infused with powerful light magic, which flowed into the bulb and gave off powerful heat and light, enough to provide artificial sunlight that a growing plant would need. With the light problem solved, growing crops was easy. And with hundreds upon hundreds of square miles of room just waiting to be dug out and planted, the farms were limited only by how many UVLAMPs they could afford to install.
Most of the fields that grew fruit on trees, like apples and oranges, served a greater purpose than just providing nourishment for the population. With the UVLAMPs giving off so much magical energy to the trees, it increased the rate that they absorbed nutrients from the ground. So much, in fact, that the roots would pull the soil around them so tightly that it didn't seem like they would ever relinquish their hold. It was almost like a magnetic force. The numerous trees coupled with a stable mass of packed dirt meant there was a wide area where caves could be dug without fear of collapse. These areas were the prime areas for digging out the Housing Quarters. Flood himself lived under what was called Sweet Apple Caverns, run by the Apple Family. He had met the proprietor Applejack once, at a Housing Quarter meeting to warn everyone on the level against tampering with the tree roots.
Flood continued along the Thoroughfare, passing a cul-de-sac of bright, colorful shops and stalls. A heavenly smell wafted over from the circle. Comfort was a commodity in the economy of the deep. And it was definitely capitalized on. The pony that cornered said market was a filly known as Pinkie Pie. Pinkie held a sort of monopoly over the snack market in the underground, even having a section of the Thoroughfare carved out for her bakery and stores, Sugarcube Roundabout. She had named the business after her old home and workplace on the surface. She and her snack empire were famous throughout the underground as a source of contentment, taking some of the bitter edge off of life in the tunnels and caves. Flood would occasionally buy a pie or box of Cupcake Crunch from the place, but never spent too long inside; the store was filled with ponies from all over the underground communities. The place was a madhouse at most times of day, with a frenzy of activity and orders to fill. Pray we never have an economy boom, Flood always thought, or we'll all go fat from the extra cash we spend on cupcakes and sugar cubes. Pinkie must be already making a killing to have that much real estate to herself in the 'Fare.
Flood passed through the center of the Thoroughfare, a rectangular section of the cave known as Feedbag Square. This was where most of the city's workforce took their breaks, and where anypony could grab a bite to eat from one of the many food stalls or ration vendors scattered about. Ponies lined up all around the Square, exchanging bits or meal tickets for a wrapped sandwich, fruit salad, veggie wrap...whatever the craving, Feedbag Square could satisfy it, at the very least somewhat. It was strange, really, but somewhat reassuring: living underground meant losing a lot of things that were taken for granted with surface life, and yet the compensation for those losses seemed to be achieved through culinary comforts.
Finally, he made it to his destination: the Mailing District. Working as a delivery pony wasn't all so glamorous, but it at least brought home some bits. The Mailing District was usually sparsely populated at this time of the morning, when everyone that worked there was still sorting through mail trolleys, saddling up mailbags, and loading more parcels. Flood approached a small entryway, glancing up at a new-looking sign that hung over it.
"The Great and Powerful Trixie Delivery Company," he muttered. Flood sighed. Trixie's such an airhead.
It was gonna be a long day.