Redline
"—again, I wanted to thank you for explaining all of this to me. You've been a huge help, Chartreuse. These past few days have been enlightening." These past few days were more than just enlightening, they were a revelation of sorts, and Sundance was sad to see them end. "Just a few days ago, when we had the formal hospital proposal, I was clueless about this stuff. But now I feel as though I almost understand it. Belief empowers magic… which is both good and bad. It cuts both ways. The good things we believe in are made better for our belief in them, but bad things also gain strength because we're afraid of them. Like those shadowlings you mentioned, and the literal, actual monsters under the bed."
The fluorescent eyesore nodded.
Though it was awkward, Sundance dared to bare his heart. "I wish you didn't have to go. There's so much I feel that I could learn from you. And… I think… I rather… like you."
"Oh, that is flattering," she replied, her tone gentle and soft. "But I cannot stay. I am what I am because I am an apt and eager student. My masters, all of them, have been good to me. I have been blessed with excellent teachers. Sundance, I am glad that I could help you understand yourself, what is going on, and give you a better view of the world around you."
He glanced at the crystal tree for a moment, then back at Chartreuse, and then his gaze fell to the ground. "I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday morning, and I think I understand. When I finally settle down and start a family, I need to raise my young to be the sorts of ponies that others can believe in. That'll keep the tree satisfied and growing. But even though I sorta understand it, I don't know how to go about doing it. Seems so simple, and yet so hard."
"All you can do," Chartreuse said to Sundance, "is your own part. Just like I can only do my part. And Twilight can only do her part. But if we all do our parts together…" The most important part of her sentence remained unsaid.
"Then things will work out. I guess. Seems like a lot to leave to chance."
"Even if things fail spectacularly, the tree will find a way. Even if it means bonding with whatever new blood it finds worthy."
That wasn't reassuring at all to Sundance, but he said nothing aloud. As much as he liked Chartreuse, he wasn't ready to reveal the depths of his insecurities to her. Her confidence and poise inspired him though, and her gentle sense of command. The fact that she was known as the Iron Duchess only somehow made her more appealing, and he very much wanted to know why she was called that, but she wouldn't tell him the story.
It might have something to do with the iron fireplace poker she kept in her hat.
As for her heavy iron shoes, they were a mystery all their own.
"You have a long trip ahead of you," she said.
"I do." He nodded, but did little else.
"Are you up for it?"
"I'll be fine, but I really should be going soon. It is a long way to Applewood."
"You must be excited," she said as the hint of a smile appeared upon her face.
"Four more lives," he replied, "of course I'm excited. Four more lives full of potential. Possibly even future saviours of the barony. There's no way of knowing." Once more, he glanced at the crystal tree, and this time, he felt a shuddering jolt ricochet down his spine.
"Best of luck, Sundance. It was nice to meet you."
"Thank you, Chartreuse"—for a moment, he feared he might be tongue-tied—"I'm glad we met. I suppose I should be going. Daylight is a-burning, as they say."
"Indeed, it is," she returned with a slight bow of her head. "May the wind be at your tail, Sundance."
Out of sorts and more than a little bit worried, Turmeric paced (if you could call it that) in a small, tight circle. Round and round he went, his face pinched with worry, until he stopped suddenly to have a good look at Sundance. While the worried unicorn stood looking, Sundance was busy securing and adjusting his harness for the long flight. The sky truck was ready to go and so was Sundance—almost.
"This is a long way, Sundance. A thousand miles or more. A really long way."
"I'll be fine." He tried to offer a little reassurance to his friend. "That's a full day's flight. Lots of pegasus ponies can make that flight. Some can even do it in less than ten hours."
"I'm not worried about them." Legs stiff, neck extended, Turmeric brought himself up to his full height—which might have been impressive if it weren't such an unnatural state for him. As tall as he was, he still had to look up at Sundance, and so the pathetic attempt at dominance was utterly ruined. The tinier stallion shrank back down with a sigh, turned away, and then rolled his eyes in the most dramatic manner possible. "I'm worried about you, birdbrain."
"That's a hurtful stereotype," Sundance remarked.
"I've slept in your nest," Turmeric dared say.
"Why you little…"
"Take a train, or something. Fly to Ponyville, take a train, pick up your precious cargo, get back on the train, go to Ponyville, and then fly home."
"On the trip home, I might actually have to stop in Ponyville if I run out of daylight," Sundance said to his friend, whose continued theatrics were more than a little distracting.
"That's what I'm worried about!" Turmeric puffed up and made every conceivable effort to be taller again, but the results were less than impressive.
"It'll be fine. I'm flying westward, so I'll have a little extra daylight. Plus, the place I'm going is part of well-lit civilisation. I'll have plenty of lights to guide my way. I think—"
"You think"—the shorter stallion puffed out even more and his tail whipped the air behind him—"you're not known for your thinking, Sundance! Paradox now has an irrational phobia of pine trees!"
"If you understand the cause, it is no longer irrational, I thought…"
"Fine, you brute! Be this way!" Fuming, his sides heaving, Turmeric almost gave Sundance conversational whiplash when he abruptly changed the subject. "When I get back to Canterlot, and Sunburst was nice enough to give me a lift, I'll talk with Rustic about renting or borrowing an airship so that we can take the little ones to a wrestling match. I think it's nice that you're willing to do daddy-stuff for them. Makes my heart feel squishy. I'm also really happy to be a part of that."
"Are you about to have a panic attack from your attempts to be assertive?" asked Sundance.
"No!" Turmeric spat out the word a little too quickly, and his refusal carried a bit too much vehemence.
"Good, because that would delay my takeoff."
Turmeric deflated, wholly and completely. He became small and meek again, his ears pinned back against his head, and his tail sagged between his hind legs. "You brute, you brute, you horrible brute. How could you?"
"You make it easy," Sundance replied. "I'm off… to the wild blue yonder. Take care, Turmeric."
"Goodbye, you horrible brute. Do be careful. No exciting landings."
"I can't make no promises to that end! I'm off!"
A long red line stretching across the map of Equestria later…
A blazing orange sun lingered on the edge of a vast cityscape horizon as Sundance tried to orient himself. Applewood was an endless smear of urban sprawl off to the west, but this little slice of civilisation in the arid shrublands looked nice enough. It was all ranches and farms and touristy dude ranches and movie sets down below, but he had to find one farm in particular, the Cactus Creek Therapeutic Farm. Twilight Velvet had sent a map with aerial photos of the location. It was near the edge of the community, but as sprawled out as everything was, and the vast distances from one homestead to another, it was hard to tell where the community ended.
The streets, paved blacktop, all blazed orange with the eye-searing light that shone from electric sodium lamps. While there were a few dirt roads to be seen, the wealth of the area was on full display. Not only were there paved roads, but sidewalks too, even out this way, on the very fringes of the settlement. Applewood Hills had cash to burn by the looks of it, and Sundance couldn't help but wonder what the residents thought of some shaggy hick with a sky truck roaming their skies.
Neat perfectly straight wooden rail fences ran along the lengths of sidewalk and sectioned off individual ranches. Windmills and water towers dotted the landscape. Concrete irrigation canals formed a well-organised grid, all with absolutely perfect right angles. Sprinklers shot out perfect parabolic arcs of water over thirsty crops. No weeds sprouted from the sidewalks and there was nothing that seemed out of place.
It was almost spooky.
When he spotted the Prince Blueblood Public Primary School, complete with a statue of the prince himself, he knew that he was close. The school was a huge, sprawling structure, made of concrete, steel, glass, and adobe. Multiple playgrounds surrounded the immense complex, and even now, as the evening loomed, there were lights in the windows. He saw a swimming pool and marveled that a public school could have such extravagance.
Then, he saw it. Just as Twilight Velvet had mentioned in her note, the flowerbeds couldn't possibly be missed. A riot of colour, even in this twitterlight hour. They had their own runway, which put his crude crash strip to shame. Smooth tarmac awaited him, with brilliant electric lights that perfectly illuminated the airstrip. As he approached, the lights changed, and blinked in an inviting pattern that beckoned to him. The chaser pattern started at one end of the airstrip and slowly travelled the length, indicating his direction of approach. At the far end of the runway there was a tall wooden watchtower, the sort built on struts and scaffolding, and typically used to watch for fires or expected fliers.
For a foal farm, he found it a bit weird that he saw no signs of foals.
Circling around, he began his approach, beckoned by the blinking lights…
Two mares awaited him, one an earth pony, the other a unicorn. The unicorn had an oversized glass of something to drink, which sweated and dripped with excessive condensation. When she held it up, the ice cubes within clinked and clunked against themselves and the glass, and this might have been the single-most wonderful sound that Sundance had ever heard in all of his years of existence.
He was thirsty, and the glass was for him.
"Lord Sundance," the unicorn mare said to him as he began to undo his many straps. But this, as it turned out, was unnecessary. Her magic illuminated his harness, which fell right off of him. Then, he heard her say, "Welcome to Cactus Creek. We've been expecting you. I am Director Buttergebäck, and this is my devoted assistant, Houseparent Praline Pecan. Are you thirsty?"
"Very," he replied as he ogled the sweating, dripping glass, and not the two perfect, stunning mares who stood before him.
Not one hair of their manes were out of place, their pelts were sleek, shiny, and well-groomed. For it being as late in the day as it was, with the day almost over, neither mare seemed particularly tired, or out of sorts. Had Sundance paid more attention, the overall effect might have been unsettling, but he very much wanted whatever was in the glass, no matter what it might be.
"You flew without stopping." This was not a question. Director Buttergebäck smiled, leaned in closer, and her ears pricked to attention. "Cucumber mint lemonade. Very hydrating. Very refreshing. If you follow me inside, this can be yours. And more, if necessary. Are you hungry, Lord Sundance?"
"I am," he replied in a voice parched and made gritty by thirst.
"Your"—she paused briefly—"curious cart will be taken care of. You have no need to worry."
"Sky truck," he said. "Military issue."
"Oh"—her pupils became pinpricks, then enlarged—"how quaint. I suppose one must make do with the resources one has. Though I must express my concerns about safety. But we can discuss that later. For now, we must get you hydrated and fed. You are our guest here, Lord Sundance, and we've prepared a bungalow for your stay. Come."
"—the bungalows are for parents who visit their offspring here, and for prospectives such as yourself," Praline Pecan said to Sundance as Director Buttergebäck led the way. "We are a therapeutic facility, a place of healing. We take in troubled tykes and then do everything we can to restore them to good mental health. Please be aware that you will be under observation during your stay. While Twilight Velvet has put in a good word for you, we will be the ones who will ultimately decide if you are a fit caretaker. Please understand this, as the interview process might be stressful."
"Mrs. Velvet said nothing about an interview—"
"Good, we have the element of surprise on our side." A wry, flawless smile filled with absolutely perfect teeth spread across Praline Pecan's muzzle. The dappled brown mare chuckled, a soft sound that was somehow soothing, and then she said, "Do try not to worry too much. You wouldn't even be invited here if you weren't worthy. We're good at filtering out the undesirables."
Something about this unsettled Sundance somewhat, but he said nothing.
The air-conditioning caused him to shiver briefly as he sat down to have his drink. While the interiour of the bungalow was nice enough, there was something about it that made Sundance think of the doctor's office, or some lobby, or a waiting room. The furniture was functional, but institutional. There was nothing frilly, or excessive. Everything was designed to be easy to clean, to maintain. Clean whites, soft pastel blues, gentle greens, and pale yellows. The chair he sat down in was molded blue plastic, with chrome legs, and it was contoured to fit his body.
Everything seemed perfect and sterile—perhaps too much so.
After all of his time spent in the wilderness, the electric lights seemed harsh, almost hostile. There was no dirt anywhere to be seen, and the tile floors, a checkerboard pattern of muted yellows and greens, were clean enough to eat off of. A radio made from gleaming white plastic stood in the corner, and beside it was a couch that would have been right at home in a doctor's office or a corporate lobby.
He could not get the straw between his lips fast enough and the drink was… utterly delicious in ways that his simple mind could not possibly describe. Sitting at the table as he was, he could not help but feel as though he was a foal once more when Director Buttergebäck put down a partitioned cafeteria tray loaded with food before him. She was powerfully maternal, dominating, so much so that Sundance felt the first stirrings of desire even as his eyes roamed his tray to see what was for supper.
One apple, green, with astonishingly perfect skin; not one blemish could be found. An orange, already peeled and divided into sections. A banana, peeled, and cut into coins. One cookie of unknown variety, but he saw nuts embedded in the surface. There was a sandwich with cucumbers, alfalfa sprouts, weird dark lettuce, and some kind of soft, gooey cheese oozed out from between the inch-thick slices of dark whole wheat bread. One honeydew melon, cut into eighths. Tucked into a corner was a pile of crackers, and beside it, some cheese cut into neat triangles.
It was the neatest, most organised, most pleasingly perfect presentation of a meal that Sundance had ever seen, and he almost felt bad that he was going to ruin it. Oh, but he would ruin it, and his regrets, if any, would have to be sorted out later. Director Buttergebäck sat down at the table opposite of him, and Praline Pecan sat down upon the couch beside the radio. When he realised that the two mares would watch him eat, he could not help but feel more than a little self-conscious.
"We are the first facility of our kind," the director said to Sundance. "While there are other behavioural facilities, other asylums and such, and other orphanages, none of them operate in the manner that we do. We are pioneers, and we explore new territory. Our approach to health and wellness is wholly and completely unique. We have lofty goals, Lord Sundance."
Watched as he was, and somewhat disturbed, he slurped his drink.
"We take a holistic approach to herd restoration and mental health," Praline Pecan said while she pressed her front hooves together in front of her. "Our precious little tykes are grouped together with like-minded fellows with compatible conditions, and then everything they do is done together. As a whole. They function as their own support group, keep each other out of trouble, and we frequently engage them in trust exercises. As individuals, they might seem troubled, but as a whole group, they are functional. It is very, very important that they remain together. This makes them hard to place for adoption, but you and your situation present a unique opportunity."
Director Buttergebäck "Indeed. And for you to come with such high recommendations from Director Velvet. This is a serendipitous circumstance."
"What happens when they grow up?" asked Sundance. "What if life tries to pull them apart?"
"This is why we are pioneers," Director Buttergebäck replied in cool, calm tones. "It is our sincere hope that they will continue to support one another as adults. We understand that they will be seperated one day, but we hope that the bonds we establish now will hold them together. Our work is based heavily upon herd psychology and Twilight Sparkle's friendship principles. We believe her ideas have merit. This entire facility exists because of her ideas, and the notion that friendship can help to heal troubled souls. Discord was reformed, redeemed, made better… but he stays well because of an extensive support network. There are other tales, other stories of redemption and reformation. We strive to replicate those here."
Sundance allowed his straw to slip out from between his lips and he raised his head. "Huh." It was about the only response he could think of, and it wasn't much of a response at all. Probably made him appear a bit stupid, and he wondered if he should have responded at all. These were smart ponies, clever ponies, professional ponies—and he wasn't. Reaching out with his lips, he got them around his straw and resumed drinking, never once thinking of how ridiculous he appeared as he did so.
"We are releasing some of them into the wild, so to speak." Praline Pecan tapped her front hooves together and her eyes narrowed. "Director Velvet feels that the isolation of your barony will be a benefit to our work. We agree. It is a good placement. But let us not get ahead of ourselves, you must still be interviewed. Nothing equinal, just policy."
Again, the straw slipped out from between his lips. "But I will not be the caretaker, so to speak. I mean, I will, I guess, but we take a communal approach to foal rearing. Hollyhock is our primary caretaker, and she does a great job, but we sorta follow the earth pony tradition. The earth pony way… there is no one singular parent. We all do our part. So I don't know what interviewing me will accomplish."
"Oh, this is excellent news." Almost smiling, Director Buttergebäck seemed quite pleased. "Director Velvet said that your antiquated settlement might prove useful, but I had no idea that this situation would be this fortuitous. Those in our care are taught to seek out houseparents that they establish trust bonds with… such as Miss Pecan. As part of our holistic approach, we don't assign houseparents to specific groups. We allow natural arrangements to happen. With our approach, we've had higher incidents of unexpected success."
Some of Sundance's landings could be considered 'incidents of unexpected success' as well, and this gave him pause. It seemed to him that a lot of this was left to chance. Circumstance. Who was he to judge? If it worked, why criticise? While he had no understanding of what went on here, he understood the nature of risks. He was a born risktaker, much to his mother's dismay and his father's disappointment.
"I would like to hear more of what you do here," he said to his hosts.
To which Praline Pecan replied, "And we would love to tell you."
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An awesome way to handle it.
I mean, the red map line has a long and beautiful pedigree.
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Respectively, yes it is, and yes it really does.
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10090025
I wasn't sure how this would go over, and worried quite a bit about this decision. Thanks, guys.
Damn it, now I want another chapter right now, maybe three. Love this chapter
Takes me back to the days I first watched Indiana Jones
A suspiciously neat, clean facility where science is being done, a white plastic radio.......
Wife Turmeric immediately, Sundance!
Praline Pecan and Director Buttergebäck something about this hole set up is throwing a big red flag up for me.
this just seams like a place that is to good to be true.
a grate chapter that i really like,, but i just get a feeling about this place and i am not liking it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vK4gv11PTI8
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This is the nice place.
The bad place comes later.
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i will trust you on this but for some reason i don't like the two pony's they comm off as to perfect.
a my shit don't stink kind of thing.
maybe it is just me and dealing with people today in my garage.
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Applewood is Equestria's version of Hollywood.
Everypony is plastic, perky, and beautiful.
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I think the issue is the feeling of sterility. How clean it all looks clashing with the fact that this is a place where kids live, when it doesn't look like it.
Presumably the wings of the facility that the kids use feel homelier.
At this point I'm almost imagining The Delightful Children From Down The Lane.
As an introvert, this makes me cringe. But I'm not a herd animal. :) Makes sense for ponies.
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Agreed. Look a second to realize what it was on about, but an awesome way indeed.
Susan?
Sure everything SOUNDS great on paper...but only Time & Space from the Facility can truly say how "Wonderful" it actually is.