Society as We Know It

by Comma Typer

Wondering

It was night.

Blue Alarm stood on a grassy hill.

The breeze winded by, swaying the grass with its gentle touch—a soft, continuous blow that ushered in a cold bout.

Below, some ways ahead, was the town of Ponyville—once again brightly lit up by the many lights both on the street and in the cottages. An illuminated village—here it was.

The blue changeling looked up. That moon, those stars, that beautiful blue sky—his eyes reflected that glistening beauty with the glitter in his eyes.

He looked down on Ponyville, hearing the sounds—the noise—of the ponies living there. "There's the Princess of Friendship and Spike carrying several scrolls—perhaps delivering it to Starlight and—hm, Discord sitting at an umbrella'd table. 'Umbrella'd'? Could it be a word." He shook his head. "Nah. I don't think so."

He spread his wings, flittered closer—feeling the cool, late breeze—and, shooting up, leveled; flew for a while—immersed in the sounds—then stopped at a house's roof, standing at the edge of it.

Blue Alarm looked down, seeing a part of the broad view he had in front of him.

Right across him, on the street was Filthy Rich—with his signature combed hair—conversing with Fancy Pants and Fluer Dis Lee in their regal form. Filthy Rich was biting his lip any time that either unicorn was talking.

At the right—a bit farther away—there was a black pegasus with a younger gray one, "presumably brothers. The 'colors' are too similar to each other and they're both pegasi—even the voices are not so different, accounting for age." The younger pegasus lifted up a small bowl toward his "presumed brother." The latter sipped whatever was in that small bowl. Then, his eyes went large. A comforting smile and a comforting hug—with the younger pegasus holding the bowl of food behind his "presumed brother's" neck.

At the left, there was a wagon that Pinkie Pie was pushing. It contained a messy stack of many individual pies. Painted in a sloppy way on the cart were the words: "Happy Random Pie for Everypony in Ponyville Day!" The pink mare whistled about with her eyes closed as she pushed the vehicle of pie through the street. She was eyeing Filthy Rich and his very rich acquaintances.

"A normal night for Ponyville, then," Blue Alarm said. "Nothing too out of the ordinary. Yet, why is Filthy Rich talking to those two? An impromptu business meeting? Is it an exchange of some sorts that I haven't heard of yet? Is he trying to expand his business beyond Ponyville? Then, Zap Apple Jam and other Sweet Apple Acres produce can easily go beyond Ponyville as well. Can't just stay here—or, maybe they can. The family, down-to-Equestria atmosphere of that place is directing me toward that line of thinking. Then again, they'll be getting more bits if they let Filthy Rich sell their produce in other places. The ponies and other creatures in those places will certainly like Zap Apple Jam, among other things, and then they'll become semi-regular customers of the Apple family. Sending the food outside isn't enough—visitors also have to come in. But, that's all moot if they're content with where they are. It's also all moot if that's not what Filthy Rich is talking about with those two."

He turned his head, leaning an ear closer to the conversation.

"You couldn't possibly be ordering such a massive undertaking of an order, could you, Fany Pants?" Filthy Rich asked, in surprise, in his standard rural-like accent.

"Why not?" Fancy Pants answered in that upper-class yet kind tone. "Zap Apple Jam, as far as I know, only grows at Sweet Apple Acres, and you seem to be the only one here who has more than enough jars of Zap Apple Jam to bring about quite a new sub-set of cuisine in Canterlot especially at Restaurant Row. I know a few chefs there whose creativity will mold exquisite fare with that admittedly mysterious and magical rainbow-colored jam."

Filthy Rich had his mouth wide open along with his eyes.

"I see, Mr. Rich. I do apologize once more for just bumping into you without any advance notice, but I simply do not want to lose the idea the moment I got it."

Filthy Rich's teeth were now slightly clattering. "Well, that is a nice reason behind it all, but, sir, five hundred jars of Zap Apple Jam?"

"I understand if you have to cut the number down to, say, one hundred," Fancy Pants said. "It's smart either way—one hundred is a choice for the cautious businesspony in case, for some factors beyond what I can see, Zap Apple Jam fails to be a big hit in Restaurant Row. Five hundred, on the other hoof, is what a very optimistic business pony would choose if the special product does become a big hit."

Fleur Dis Lee nodded. "It would be interesting to see how it would all play out at Restaurant Row with its present culinary renaissance."

"Of course, if it does succeed," Fancy Pants went on, "I'll make sure that you and your family—and any friends you might like to mention—get a substanstial slice of the profits; I'll personally talk to each of the chefs about that matter."

The surprise on Filthy Rich's face was intensified—his irises now shrunk and he placed a hoof close to his chest.

"So, what will it be, Mr. Rich?" Fancy Pants asked. "I myself haven't had a good enough taste of it and so does my dear Fluer Dis Lee over here—" motioning a hoof at her who flipped her light pink mane.

"Why, uh—if I—uh—"

"Hi!" Pinkie screamed, waving a hoof at them. "Wanna pie?"

"Just a moment, Pinkie," Fancy Pants said, smiling and holding out a hoof at her. "We're in the middle of some very important discussions with Mr. Rich over here."

"You mean Filthy Rich?"

Fancy Pants kept smiling. "I prefer to be polite and just say 'Mr. Rich.'"

Pinkie smiled back. She took a good glance at the state of the "very important discussions": Filthy Rich was silent, quickly looking at the unicorns in front of him and at Pinkie Pie.

"OK!" Pinkie said with eyes closed as she returned to pushing the cart. "I'll be coming round here later!"

She went back to whistling, the wagon's wheels creaking under the weight of all those pies which towered over her.

Pinkie stopped her whistling and opened her eyes. "Hi, Thunderlane and Rumble!" She grabbed two pies with one hoof. "Wanna pie?"

"Yeah, Pinkie!" Thunderlane yelled as he grabbed both pies with a hoof. Looking at his "presumed brother," he said to him, "Do you wanna sit down at the table over there?" He pointed at an open and free table near an intersection—"Definitely an eatery," Blue Alarm whispered.

"Is there anypony else there?" Rumble asked him.

"A few, and that's more than enough for me!" Thunderlane said as he hovered over the ground. He looked back at Pinkie and said, "Thanks!"

"No problem! Just spreading happiness through pies the Pinkie Pie way!" Then, she giggled as she waved at the two pegasi flying away from her and approaching the eatery over there.

Blue Alarm sighed and walked a few steps away from the road, getting higher and higher towards the top of the roof he was on. He looked at the hay he was standing on.

"And, right now, there's some ponies who are living right under my hooves. Can't instantly tell what exactly they're doing, but I'm sure it's also nothing out of the ordinary—late dinner? Maybe a game. Or they're sleeping early. It's OK if they're sleeping—then again, I wouldn't know until I show myself to any passers-by at the road. Or not."

Then, he flittered away from the cottage, going once again into the nighttime air with its cool, late breeze—feeling it.

---

Inside a moving train, Blue Alarm sat alone inside the carriage. Several ponies were scattered sparsely throughout on their seats, most of them on their own. A stallion with a stubble had a briefcase on his hind legs as he sat upright. A mare who smelled of sweet cake frosting had a batch of baked goods inside a box—for the box had the words in big and bold font: "Baked Goods!" A pegasus—Night Glider—merely watched the dark landscape rolling by as it blitzed from one place to the next. Mayor Mare, with her glasses, was nervously tapping a hoof—anxious glances here and there. There was only one seat that had more than one passenger on it; it was occupied by Cranky Doodle Donkey and Matilda, looking out of the window and at the dark landscape just like Night Glider was—only, instead of having a wistful eye bringing in deep thought, they were leaning on each other's head, smiling.

Blue Alarm, too, looked out at the dark night landscape.

"Soon, everyone's going to celebrate Hearth's Warming," Blue Alarm said. "After that, it's going to be the first year of peace for the Changeling Hive—for us. A full year of no conflict, no war, no oppression, nothing. Just what is good for all of us—truly good.

"I have good friends—more than just good friends. They're the friends that, I'm certain, will stick around until the very end—friendship of the highest quality. It's the magic that permeates everything—from making daily life all the better to defeating monsters. It's all about friendship—nothing is better than that, and that's what they tell me. And, shouldn't it be true? Evidence number one is Equestria.

"Yet, I still remember those early, tumultuous months right after everything changed. We knew nothing other than the life we knew—glimpses of a friend-filled life were suppressed, iterated and re-iterated to us that it's only good on the surface—that, behind the shiny smiles and all the happy faces, it's really an evil system that needs to be destroyed down to the very core of it. Without anything else, what could we do? There wasn't anything to do other than work—for work was the only other thing we knew.

"And then, what? After that, it's building up an identity. Which is funny—we didn't have one. We were only known as those creatures that act like bugs and also steal love from innocent ponies. We had to prove ourselves we were otherwise.

"Imagining all of us just going about inside a pony city or village, asking all kinds of questions and seeing everything as if it were some magical relic—even though it's just a toaster. Heh." He smiled.

---

The train stopped at the train station in Manehattan.

Blue Alarm stepped out of the grand structure and went down the white steps.

The many taxi carriages being pulled, the many ponies walking on the sidewalk, the many lights that were on in streetlights, in buildings, on walls—advertisements on posters, billboards both traditional and electronic yelling, with sheer size and lack of tact, to try this or to try that because it's at a serious sale right now. That combination of scents was back—colognes, perfumes, food both cold and hot and either sweet or savory(frozen or chilled or grilled or steamed or roasted or fried—there were lots of food stands on the sidewalk), flowers and trees with their natural fragrances, a whiff of ashpalt from the road—all did not overwhelm the blue changeling who merely walked in the middle of the night in Manehattan, keeping to the sidewalk most of the time.

The ponies who passed by him did not pay much attention to the changeling, if at all. He himself passed by not just ponies but all kinds of establishments in their blocky and tall buildings: sandwich shops, department malls, florist outlet, book store, fancy boutique—over there, for the door was open, Plaid Stripes could be seen beside a customer in front of a pair of dresses, talking to her and asking her several questions—diamond retail, furniture store, office row, prestigious banks, looming headquarters, soaring hotels, lanky apartments, wide cinemas.

Then, there he was at the Bridleway Theater District. The junction there was an immense one—a large patch of just road where several already wide avenues came together to meet here. Tons of carriages and ponies, even at this late hour, filled up the roads and the sidewalks, almost crowding the changeling out of there and on to the road. There, the audacity of the posters and the billboards was in full force: covering more than a hoofful of floors, taking up a great space, exclaiming to one and all what it was all about while being surrounded by more that were different yet were also just like it because they were just as big, if not bigger, and were just as gaduy, if not gaudier.

The high-rise buildings themselves were among the tallest in the city of high-rise buildings, reaching to the sky—yet Blue Alarm had already seen them before.

He looked at Bridleway Theater.

---

"But, sir!" the stallion with a black hat yelled at an older, mustached one who sat on in front of a plastic table. "You can't let our good ol' town die out like this! I'm a citizen of this town as much as you are!" He pointed a hoof at him. "I have a passion for this town—a flame that surely should never be quenched! If, I am patriotic for my home, then I shall do everything that I can do to ensure that this town shall rise up and bloom into something better, something greater!"

"Look at me!" the older stallion said, his voice gravelly, pointing to his eyes and leaning forward. "I've been councilor in this town for more than you've been alive! I've never had to go to a night school when I was a foal! Think how absurd your suggestions are, even willing to blast past regulations so that anypony who doesn't know any better—they'll gladly throw their bits at you, you with the fiery voice! But—listen to yourself! A school for cooking or knitting? Bah! Half of the parents in this town are experts—fine experts, mind you! Who needs a year's half's training to learn rudimentary baics like that!"

"Employers these days are attracted by trained ponies," the younger stallion shot back. "I'd rather pick a trained pony than an untrained one, and I think you do, too."

"That and that—waste of money!" the older stallion shouted.

"What are you going to with the money that's been sitting in those boxes inside their own safes? Don't you know that it's an ethical crime to just let it sit there, to not let it act for the good of others, to not let it be a word to everypony here that, yes, there's a brighter future coming and we're going to use all our resources, including our money, to plunge ourselves forward to it and to welcome this future with open arms?!"

And on went the play on stage, the argument between younger and older.

Blue Alarm said nothing as he ate his popcorn, watching it and smiling as he sat beside a few ponies who were also smiling at the unravelling story before them.

"Maybe I just need to take my mind off of this for a while," Blue Alarm then said.

He ate another mouthful of popcorn.