Refined
The bank was dirty, smelly, and quite unlike any other bank that Sundance had visited before. Yet, it was still somehow a bank. Something about it checked all the right boxes for what a bank should be, even if those things were somehow the opposite of what they should have been. There was a lobby of sorts, a waiting area, and a row of bank tellers all secure in their stalls. Instead of fine tile, like glossy, well-polished marble, there was smooth cement. In the middle of the lobby, there was even a fountain—but there was also a pig drinking from it, oinking as it tried to slake its thirst.
Sundance, a pegasus of storied bloodline and stock, like all of his kind, had certain powers of observation. Some of his kind were brilliant detectives. Others became gamblers that watched for tell-tale signs to tilt the odds in their favour. Some, like Officer Mom, were beat cops that kept an eye out for trouble. But Sundance in particular, he was a pony watcher. Though he did not realise it, he had no way of knowing, he was an expert pony watcher, a specialised trait that had travelled through his bloodline all the way down from the founder, Celestia, who was also an exceptional pony watcher.
With every cough, Sundance's ears pricked and pivoted about. He watched everypony—everything—that came through the doors. There were what he could only assume were dirty factory workers—they looked the type—and mixed in with these unwashed labourers there were the ponies of wealth. Yes, there was wealth here. Like the pony in the tweed suit with a brass pocketwatch that completely bypassed the line and was escorted into some room in the back. Wealth meant privilege. It meant never having to stand in line and wait, because time was money, and for some ponies, their time was far too valuable to waste.
Yet, the pony in the fine tweed suit still lived amongst his filthy fellows.
If one watched ponies long enough and hard enough, one began to see the things that gave rise to stereotypes, the root of half-truths, and commonly held beliefs. Waiting in line, there was an earth pony mare, a wretched, exhausted example, with bags beneath her eyes and droopy ears. Crowded around her were five foals, and a sixth foal hung from a carrier slung around her neck. The youngest appeared to be just a few months old, while the oldest was maybe six or seven. One of the foals, a middler that was maybe three or four, was a confirmed mouth breather. Her vacant expression, shiny, moist lips, and slack jaw confirmed all of the worst stereotypes, and she would no doubt be held up as an example to justify all manner of unpleasantness.
It occurred to Sundance that ponies lived here. They lived here among the cows trapped in their horrid factory farms. A cascade of thoughts avalanched through Sundance's grey matter, and he came to the conclusion that ponies too, lived in factory farms. The cities were exactly that. A means to house and gather ponies together in vast numbers so that resources might be collected from them. Tiny, cramped apartments that bled them of money. Jobs that consumed their time, talent, and skills. Horrible conditions that caused premature death, sometimes of mercury poisoning. He thought of his grandmother, his mother, and his father. All cows trapped in their stalls, milked for all that they were worth. As for he himself, by sheer luck he'd wandered away from the farm.
Though it was quite warm in the lobby, a sweaty, moist warmth, he shivered.
Some thoughts, once had, could not be made to go away.
There was a surprising amount of old gum on the sidewalks. A pony-drawn cab trundled down the narrow street and hardly slowed to take a sharp turn. Sundance sympathised with the passenger that got flung about in the back seat, and then for a short time, he wondered what his passengers thought of him. All kinds of thoughts flitted through his mind, like confused birds gripped by panic. But one thought kept making itself known as it careened between his ears.
How many farmers does it take to field one soldier?
It distracted him, disrupted his thoughts, and kept him from reaching any meaningful conclusions. Equestria had a mighty big military. Incomprehensibly huge. Sundance glanced around, taking in all that was around him, and for the first time, he began to wonder at the necessity of all of this. He did so without emotion, without feeling, and he strove to be objective. Yet, try as he might, there was no conclusion to be had, only nauseating uncertainty.
"Sundance?"
He paused, then stepped aside so that he wouldn't block traffic on the sidewalk. "Yeah?"
Hoppy pulled up beside him, leaned in close, perhaps too close for comfort, and asked, "Are you alright?"
He started to say that he was fine, but before the words even left his mouth he grew anxious about lying. So, he told the truth. What else could he do? "No. I am far from alright."
"Look… I don't know if the cows actually get turned into leather and pet food." Hoppy's voice was low, enough so that it was difficult to hear her over the sounds of traffic. "You hear stories, you know? Conspiracy theories. You hear things that seem true enough, so they stick. There's always that one pony that has a cousin who has a brother who has a friend whose mother works in some place that saw it all go down."
"You know a lot about this place," he said to her.
"I did a lot of business here. Even lived here, for a time. Granny faced a lot of prejudice all over, but she found some measure of acceptance here, of all places. Fancy that. The Goldshoes have been her friends for a long, long time. And that makes them my friends too."
"But you took to the sky."
She gestured, shrugged, and then gestured at everything around her, as if that explained everything. Which it rather did. Living down here would be unbearable, and Sundance couldn't even begin to imagine it. The stench of his own barony was practically a wholesome smell compared to this. Plus, there was dunglung, whatever that was. There was also coal soot on the sidewalk and on everything else. As it turned out, there were places worse than Baltimare.
Yet, it was in this place that Grandmother Growler found some acceptance.
"We lived in the sky and took ourselves to wherever there was business," Hoppy said in a voice with a bit more volume. "We bought apples in Ponyville and turned them into cider. Bought strawberries from wherever and turned them into wine. We bought grains and hops and such from the best fields that Equestria had to offer, and then sold them wherever we might get the most profit. A lot of our sales were made here. Ponies drink a lot of booze here. I suppose it makes the situation tolerable. I know for certain that Bucklebad drinks a growler of beer every morning for breakfast. We drank a lot of breakfast together, he and I."
"I never developed the habit." Much to his own surprise, Sundance bared himself to his companion, and he couldn't comprehend why. "I did my job. When I wasn't working, I did my project. Occasionally, I went out thrill seeking and did incredibly dangerous and stupid things that my mother didn't approve of. I guess that was my way of dealing with the pressure. A sort of half-assed suicide attempt. The city seemed so suffocating, you know? I felt so trapped. There was nothing to look forward to. Just work, sleep, eat, crap, work, do something dangerous, and maybe die. But at the end of it all, you just died. Sometimes, I wished the dying part would hurry up. Well, I did before I started my project. School was hard on me. I guess my project saved me. Kept me sane."
"I understand, Sundance. I really do. I hope you know that I'm not just saying that."
"Thanks, Hoppy."
"Now you have a new project," she said to him with sincere warmth as well as unabashed affection. "You have the means to save ponies stuck in that same rut. You've been there, Sundance. You've been down on the bottom with the rest of us. I'm pretty sure that's why you were chosen. It'd be pretty rotten of Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight to try and fix this mess and assign some upper class twit that had no idea what it was like to be us. Somepony that didn't get this." Again, she gestured at everything around her.
Then, a moment later, she added, "A lot of ponies start projects. In my experience, very few ponies finish what they start. So many projects fall by the wayside. You're a finisher, Sundance. Probably why you were chosen. Me, I started a project too. Named him Wort. If I don't finish, there'll be trouble. Before Wort came along, I had a real hard time finishing what I started. I did. Granny had to nag me. I was an irresponsible ass. But don't tell her that I said that. She'll gloat. But she was right."
"Hoppy, can I ask a favour?"
"Sure thing, Sundance."
"Don't say 'irresponsible ass' around Tarantula or Flax. If they get hurt feelings, there'll be trouble."
"And this is why you're in charge." Something that was almost a smile crept over Hoppy's face. "We gotta get to the greenhouse supplier…"
As it turned out, the greenhouse factory was identical to pretty much every other building around it. Long north to south, with a canal along one side, and a waterway that flowed into a loading zone inside of the building itself. It had to be as long as a fifty story skyscraper, only laid out on its side. The lobby was pleasant enough, and filled with tiny, intricate models of the greenhouses they had to offer. Everything from classical greenhouses, the sort of thing Sundance envisioned when the word greenhouse was mentioned, and more fantastic models like geodesic domes.
It was also a remarkably clean space, with very little smell.
How that was managed mystified Sundance, but he appreciated the miracle.
"Hoppy, is that you?" A stout green earth pony shoved his way through the door and grinned as he approached.
"Curly! It's been a while!"
"It has," he replied. "New fella?"
"Curly, this is Lord Sundance, of the Sunfire Barony." Then, with a massive smile that revealed molars, she reversed the introduction. "Sundance, this is Curly Kale."
"How do you do, Curly?" Sundance, who felt a little awkward, did his best to hide it.
"Nice to meet you," was Curly's polite response. "Ready to claim your greenhouses, Hoppy?"
"I am," she replied with a bow of her head. "How's business, Curly?"
"Greenhouse business is booming. The kale business? Not so much. Ponies only want to eat junk food now. Can you believe that some of the ponies have taken to eating cow pellets? I mean, sure… they're nutritionally perfect, and yes, they're cheaper… but there's no taste to them."
"Well, Curly, there's no flavour to kale, either."
"Wicked Hoppy…" With the left side of his mouth curled into a sneer, Curly groaned and shook his head at the impertinent remark.
"I'm new here, so forgive me, but where do ponies grow crops around here?" asked Sundance.
"Why, indoors of course," Curly, who took interest in Sundance, replied. "I am part owner of a massive factory complex. We grow kale. Lots of it. We grow it in stacked racks, with lamps, and an automated watering system. I can grow eight times as much kale in my factory footprint than in the equivalent of open-air farmland. No wasted water. Everything is clean. Easier to harvest. It's the future."
Sundance, who disagreed, said nothing.
"I could have bought a factory here… and didn't," Hoppy remarked. "There's something to be said for open-air farming."
"But its not as efficient," Curly said to Hoppy with a stern scowl plastered across his face.
"Maybe so, but it's also not as polluted and smelly."
"Cow shit makes things grow." His scowl intensified by a magnitude and Curly took on a stiff legged stance. "Most ponies don't know this, but the cow shit industry makes more money than the dairy industry. Just a few years ago, the change happened, and it's been picking up steam ever since. I just invested in a cow shit refinery. The smell of money isn't always sweet. Sometimes, it stinks like cow shit."
Sundance could not help but ask, "A cow shit refinery?"
"A magical factory that turns cow shit into gold. We can get fertiliser, chemicals for tanning, fuel oil, and a whole bunch of useful compounds from cow shit. And Jersey City produces a lot of cow shit, let me tell you. It used to be a problem, yes-sirree. But now, every last bit of shit is collected. Hoarded. We've even changed the cow pellets so the cows will shit more efficiently. No more constipation issues, just effortless smooth shits. As it turns out, the eco-maniacal dinguses were right. We were throwing shit away. Precious, valuable shit. That was money just flushed down the shitter."
"So things are, uh, actually getting cleaned up?" asked Sundance.
"Slowly. It just took us a while to realise what we were wasting. Already, the air is a little better. Once more refineries go online, the problem will become the solution. I hope." Curly smiled, and then added, "Never underestimate pony ingenuity. We're a species without fingers or thumbs… and just look at what we've done."
Things weren't as hopeless as they might have first appeared…
"Hey, Hoppy… you mind telling me where we're sending these greenhouses?"
"Sunfire Barony," she replied without missing a beat. "Due east of Canterlot by a few hundred miles. Not sure of the exact location. We don't have a post office, so no coordinates. I was able to find it just fine. Just look for the Foal Mountains, and you'll find us in the foothills. Big box canyon. Huge. Enormous. Nothing but open space for hundreds of miles in all directions. Perfect place to raise my son."
"How is little Wort?" Curly asked.
"Happy, I think." Hoppy's expression of good-natured cheer turned thoughtful. "Been a real pain in Granny's fuzzy ass. Suddenly, he asks questions about everything. I think it is the new environment. Granny says that he's acting like a kid. I suppose she would know. She thinks he got too bored living on an airship. Knowing how Granny is, she might be right."
"That old bird is never wrong," Curly said knowingly.
"I think she's happier too." Deep wrinkles appeared above Hoppy's brows. "I might have been the only one happy to live in the clouds. It was practical, you know. But I'm ready to put down roots. The barony is a bit rough, but I get to be one of the ones who helps to modernise it."
"Ah, Hoppy… you bring a bit of civilisation and booze everywhere you go." After a long sigh, Curly's head bobbed up and down in a slow, dramatic nod. "We miss you, Hoppy. Don't be a stranger. Take all the time you need, but uh, do try to resume the regular beer shipments. It's hard to get good ale around here. Just swill."
"Give it time," she replied. "I am about to start producing on a scale that I never could before."
"Best of luck to you, Hoppy. I'm glad that you found yours. Have you seen the Goldshoes yet?"
"We landed there. They're watching Sundance's sky truck for him."
"So you know about Sulky?" he asked in a much lower voice.
In response, Hoppy bit her lip.
"A real shame, that whole mess." Everything that could droop on Curly did droop and the stallion's eyes turned sad. "Sulky is a ray of sunshine. Never has a filly been so poorly named. There's nothing sulky about her. It's a real shame that her mind is… soft."
"She had never-ending colic when she was young. Sickly. Was always sick with something." A sharp, prolonged inhale widened Hoppy's sides; she held it for a short time, her cheeks puffed out, and she rolled her eyes as she exhaled in a short, full huff. "I think one of those fevers did something to her. Maybe the flu that took her wings. I dunno. All I can do is speculate, I don't know nothing about this stuff. We'll be taking Sulky home with us."
Curly seemed surprised, as evidenced by his gasp. He was quick to recover though, and flashed a sad-happy smile. "That's the best news I heard all day. City ain't good for her. She needs to be out in some pasture somewhere."
"Thanks again, Curly. It was good to see you."
"It was great seeing you, Hoppy. I'll make sure that your greenhouses get to you. Give me a week or two. The Goldshoes are currently fixing our only airship, so deliveries are delayed." He turned to face Sundance and said, "And it was nice meeting you. Look after Sulky. I know what she did, but really, she's a good kid. If you need greenhouses, come and talk to me. You'll get a prefered customer discount because you know Hoppy."
"Thank you," Sundance replied. "Once my finances are sorted, I might take you up on that offer."
"I'll be buying more as well," Hoppy said. "My credit is thin right now because production is non-existent. But once I can pay in cash, I'll be back."
Sundance, who had an idea, said nothing, but squirreled his precious idea away for later.
"Credit or no, we can work out a deal. I need strawberry wine and some ale."
"We'll talk, I promise. I can't stay long, Curly. We have to be done here and try to get home before the sun sets. Sundance can't fly in the dark."
"I understand. Later, Hoppy." Then, in a sudden burst of motion, Curly rushed forward and embraced the smaller unicorn mare in a tight hug.
"I'll stay in touch, I promise," she said as she was squeezed.
"You do that, Hoppy. Don't be a stranger!"
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If only one important thing happened in this chapter, I will be quite surprised.
I'm trying not to be prejudiced against the pony named "Curly Kale." I really am. Kale is only famine food as far as I'm concerned.
Well, there is flavor. It's just not good flavor.
It's kinda unfortunate.
If the cows are shitting smooth now, that means there's probably no production of natural gas to go with the brown oil refineries.
Try “irresponsible buttock”, it doesn’t flow as well, but the intention is unmistakable, and it surprises people, which is always fun.
10156319
I will never understand kale, there’s no point to it. The texture is worse than the flavour, and the flavour can be roughly equated to a particularly unhygienic marathon runner’s oldest pair of trainers, which when not being worn get used as a lavatory by said owners incontinent dog.
10156345
I take it that those are the good points?
10156369
Honestly, they might well be. When I first had kale myself, I thought that it was the stereotypical health food; a kind of culinary penance one endures to compensate for the sinful delight of junk food.
That said, I've actually acquired a taste for it, myself, mostly because it is, pound for pound, the cheapest salad green I can get around here. I'm also the lucky recipient of sub-taster genes, which means that I'm not sensitive much of the bitter phenols in brassica plants. Kale, broccoli, and the like are much more pleasant for me to eat than they are for others.
You can fix kane with cheese. Lots os cheese. It is pretty good , actually.
10156399
My problem with Kale stems more from it having too much dietary fiber than my body can handle. I never disliked it per say but the aftereffects were more than I needed.
Think the Barony bog mud could be of value here for growing crops?
10156492
My problem with kale is that it gives me explosive liquishits and downright demonic flatulence. Not a good combo. Not at all. If I eat so much as a single leaf, I'm doomed. Kale and bananas both.
There is alot of dark secrets to the dairy industry especially for those that don't think about where their food comes from.
10156322 Oh there would still be gas since its a part of how a cow's digestion works maybe not as much
The bovine by-product can be processed in a wet thermal pyrolysis cell, and reduced to hydrocarbon products; and then cracked down to methane. This can then be supercooled into densified liquid methane and used as rocket fuel.
So... yes, you actually can go to the stars powered by nothing more than BS.
10156606
I think all food industry has its fair share of proverbial dirt.
what I can say, having worked about 4 weeks in a chicken processing factory, is that the portioning and packaging part of the process is clean (at least here in the UK) so much cleaning policy I'd almost say they were excessive.
it was cold too, I had a near permanent chill in my bones for the first few days, and now I can't sleep without the window open
That is a very interesting logistical question, and exactly the type of thing that he, as a baron, needs to be asking himself. What his barony needs is a gaming nerd. Someone who will sit down and write out number of residents, amount and type of resources produced, etc. Treat it as a development game. This would NOT address everything that he has to deal with, and certainly he'll want to avoid drifting toward treating ponies as numbers, but the first step in planning the future is taking stock of what you've got.
10157312
https://www.fimfiction.net/story/397718/25/house-of-the-rising-sunflower/a-glorious-day-indeed
It is also a pretty important previous chapter, where Twilight is teaching him how to rule via dreams.
10157467
So much of what you wrote is so exactly what I was thinking that I'm now second-guessing whether or not your work was my most recent exposure to the topic.
10157312
No the last thing they need is current development approach. They have an ideal place for permaculture, good soil and good air. They do NOT need to mess that up by imitating the rest of weedverse Equestria.
10157644
Well, yes. Certainly, he'd never do that now, based on what's he's seen of Jersey City. What I said was that he needs to add someone with that viewpoint in order to get an accurate view of what he has to work with. I feel like I've suggested that they improve cell growth, to promote healing, and you're taking a stance against cancer.
10156345
You seem to be looking for alternatives to 'ass'.
10157653
gotcha, sorry for the misunderstanding. I guess I've just seen too much hyperextension in recent years.
10158681
in northern England we use the charming term JACKSIE.