Prologue
Two men were seated inside an ancient maroon van, calmly listening to the talk show playing on the radio and conversing back and forth. The driver was a lean salt-and-pepper-haired man, aged with with tanned weather-worn skin. “So, d’you get that memo on the shift changes?” He was relaxed, the cigarette in his mouth glowing as he breathed. His arm hung out the window, shirt billowing in the cool night air as the van rounded another corner on the gravel backroad. In the passenger’s seat was a punkish kid in his twenties; he had colourful vulgarities tattooed on his toned arms and a baseball cap twisted to the side. The program on the radio rambled quietly in the cabin din.
“...me now to discuss the ramifications of the Supreme Court’s decision is veteran human rights lawyer Mark Bhule. Mark, what can you tell us about the...”
“Yeah. I lost another shift. Dunno how I’m supposed to pay my damn rent when they have me on shifts like this, and driving out here in buttfuck nowhere instead of actually pulling a frickin’ income.” The tattooed man slouched in his seat, staring sulkily out at the moonlit wooden fenceposts as they sped past the window. “Let’s just finish this thing and get back to Victoria. I need a goddamn shower.”
“...biggest thing at this point Jeff is that with this decision the ‘MLPs’, as they’re being called, have been recognized as sentient. This ruling puts them in a position of not qualifying as animals or humans under the law...”
“You wouldn’t need a shower if you hadn’t scared the stupid thing like that, genius. And you’d get more hours if you actually dressed like a person, instead of some deadbeat wannabe.” The driver shook his head as he surveyed the fields they were passing. “Still, I get what you’re thinking about having to come all the way up here just to deal with this shit. It’s not like anyone would have found out if we did this back in Saanich.” He picked his cigarette, burned nearly to the filter, and flicked it out the window. Leaning forwards, the driver worked the old window handle, raising the window up to meet the doorframe. His passenger did the same. “We should be far enough by now, you grab the shovel and I’ll grab the rest.”
“...you’re saying is that they have no rights or legal protections at all, am I hearing that right?”
Moving his foot from the accelerator to the brake, the driver slowed the van and directed it to the side of the road, gravel crunching underneath the tires as the vehicle slowed to a halt next to an unfenced field. Its engine sputtered to a halt, the driver killing the ignition and lighting up its amber hazard blinkers. The passenger grunted and let himself out into the cool air, pulling a shovel out from behind the seat and stepping out into the field’s ankle-high grass. The driver stepped out as well, leaving his door open and walking around the back of the van. He began to work the latch, rusty grating sounds coming from within it as it slowly gave and unlocked the door.
The younger man had made his way a couple meters into the field now, and after looking around to make sure the two were alone he angled down the shovel and slammed it into the dirt blade-first. “So, d’you hear about that stupid protest those folks put up down in the states? Apparently a bunch of people got pissed at wherever that one place was that was using these suckers for work. I guess they thought their opinions mattered or something.” A quick fling, and the first signs of a hole were rent from the soil.
“Damn, this stupid thing’s heavy. Yeah, I heard about that. Guess they pissed more than a few people off. I heard the police were all over the protest. Beat the hell out of the toys that were there.” The driver carried over a tied burlap sack and unceremoniously tossed it onto the ground, a squeak emanating from the bag. The driver returned to the van, reaching in and grabbing a rectangular red plastic tank. Turning back towards the field, he set the tank down beside the burlap sack, which had fallen over as a result of the movement from within it.
Giving the squirming sack a kick to stop the contents from moving, the driver leaned down and grabbed the neck of the bag, pulling it upright. Balancing on his knee, he undid the knot around the opening, discarding the spent twine. Grasping the bottom of the sack, he upended it and shook out the contents. A small, light-furred pony not more than a few days old tumbled to the ground as the driver folded the bag up and set it aside. Unsteadily it tried to rise to its feet, but a solid kick from the driver convinced it not to, and it feebly tried to push its way along the ground away from him before giving up after receiving another kick to the barrel.
With a strained grunt, the passenger dumped a final load of topsoil onto the makeshift pile beside the hole he had been digging. Disdainfully pressing the shovel blade-down into the hasty dirt pile, he turned to watch the driver and the pony, which had opted to curl into a quivering ball of fur. “Aight, fine. Let’s just get this shit over with and go home, we’re missing the hockey game. Stupid defective junk...” He trailed off, mumbling about wasted time.
“Not our funeral. Imagine that, forty grand up front for a custom product and they apparently just told us they weren’t going to take it because it can’t see in the dark. Some people, eh?” With a barely-visible shake of the head, the driver picked up the plastic tank. Gripping it in the crook of his arm, the man took off the cap of the tank, extracting a yellow nozzle from the tank and screwing it onto where the cap had been.
The young man stood there, jaw wide open. “Why the hell would you throw that much money away like that?”
“Apparently, that ‘defect’ of not being able to see is due to some stupid won’t-change-a-thing disease or something. The lab rats called it ‘congenial’ or ‘gerial’ or something. Damned if I know, I’m not an egghead. Corporate says we can’t have busted goods walking around though, so they just got us to drive up-island and dispose of the problem. Pretty simple, and at least they’re paying mileage this time. Come on, I want to get home just as much as you do. Hey, do you have your lighter on you? I left mine in the truck. Apparently some kid of theirs was pretty broken up over it. Going on about pianos or somewhat.” Shrugging the tank out of his arm as he angled to pour the contents of the tank onto the pony, the driver noticed another vehicle on the road, making its way past them even as the pony started at the acrid liquid splashing onto it.
“Iron Pony, fly!” The red-and-yellow pegasus spun through a corkscrew and dove amid a barrage of imagined projectiles, flying around the head of a young boy several times larger than it. The boy laughed, swinging the small plastic toy through the air. As he did so the child visualized green magic bolts being fired by Iron’s newest nemesis, The Great Rushtar. The pegasus toy flashed by in front of his face, after it had passed the small child looked forwards to see his mother sitting in the front passenger seat, craned around to watch him play with his newest toy.
“Careful, Noah. Don’t drop it now.” Noah’s mother smiled contentedly, amused by her son’s imagination and dark, messy hair. “You’ll have to wait until we get home to play with it again if you do that,” she said with a note of knowing resignation.
Noah’s smile hitched slightly for a moment, before widening back up as he gazed at his mother. “Okay, mommy. I’ll be careful.” Noah broke the look with his mother and promptly lost himself in his imagination, The Great Rushtar taking over his thoughts with pretend threats of world domination.
Noah’s father sat in the driver’s seat, watching the reflective specks of the road markers pass in the night, solitary white rectangles suspended in the air. He yawned and shook himself awake. “Well, that was quite the trip today. You ready to get home, Noah?” he asked, meeting Noah’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.
Gravel crunched as the minivan wound carefully through the roads, the semi traffic on a highway in the distance reduced to mere pinpricks of moving light in the rapidly dimming twilight. The van rounded another bend, passing a few trees and coming within sight of an old grey van. Noah’s mother was the first to notice the old grey van parked on the side of the road, hazard flashers going and the driver’s-side door hanging open. The cab lights illuminated the interior, empty seats and open doors more than adequately. Light spilled out from the passenger-side door and illuminated part of the nearby field, barely illuminating two men standing in the field, watching them go by like silent observers.
“Todd, slow down. Do you think they might need our help?” Noah’s mother had a concerned look on her face, mouth curled into a tense frown as she looked at her husband in the driver’s seat. He nodded, reaching forward and depressing a small red button on the dashboard. A rhythmic clicking noise began to emanate from behind the panel, two green arrows flashing in time on the instrumentation.
Todd nodded and shifted his feet, releasing the accelerator and pushing down firmly on the brake pedal. “Being stuck out here all night isn’t exactly the kind of thing you want to deal with on a weekend,” he said sagely. “I’ll see if they need help. Can you keep an eye on Noah please, Miriam?” Todd spun the steering wheel and brought the vehicle to a stop a dozen meters or so past the grey box van.
With the minivan in park, Todd turned off the ignition and pulled out the keys, shoving them in his pocket. He unclipped his seatbelt and levered open the door handle as his wife did the same.
“Stay here, Noah. Mommy and Daddy will be right back,” said Miriam, “Keep playing with your toy.”
“He’s Iron Pony, mom!” corrected Noah.
Miriam smiled at Noah’s antics, closing the passenger-side door and looking across the hood to Todd who was walking around the front of the vehicle to her. “He’ll be fine. We should worry about helping these people and then just get home.” As if to emphasize her statement, one of the two men in the field had begun walking towards them. Miriam and Todd made their way to the rear of their vehicle, upon arrival Todd unlatched the rear door and muttered to himself as he searched through the accumulated junk behind the rear seat.
“Can I help you?” The man’s terse question matched the uncomfortable frown on his wrinkled face and complimented his crossed arms. In the distance, the other man from the van knocked something on the ground over amid a muffled squeal and began to walk towards Todd, Miriam and the older man.
As children were wont to do, Noah had allowed his imagination to roam outside the confines of the minivan. Not one to let his imagination get away on him, Noah silently exited the van and continued to play with his toy in the new terrain around him. After a short time he was interrupted by the sound of loud coughing. Noah looked around for the source of the noise that had interrupted his play. His gaze settled on the man wearing a baseball cap that stood farther out in the field. The man was watching Todd and Miriam and when they weren’t looking he kicked a small object into a hole near his feet.
Todd was the first to respond. “We saw you pulled over, and wondered if you needed any help.”
“Naw, we had a little problem but it’s getting dealt with. Thanks, though.”
“Well, glad to hear everything’s good then, I suppose we’ll be on our way. What was the problem, ran out of gas?”
By now the second man, a younger guy with some rather distasteful tattoos had made his way up to the three, and stepped up beside the older man. “Yeah, something like that. Gauge has been iffy for a while, we had less than we thought. We sent our other guy to take the jerry can and get some more from that gas station a couple clicks back. Once he gets here, we’ll be off. Thanks for your concern, though.”
Unbeknownst to the gathered adults, Noah had wandered a distance into the fields, and was nearing the hole that had been dug by the tattooed man beforehand. Reaching the edge of the hole, Noah peered into it. A jerking motion accompanied by a pained squeak from something inside the depression startled him. Losing his balance and falling backwards, he knocked over the shovel stuck in the dirt pile. The shovel fell over, clanging against the rocky soil as it landed.
As Miriam turned to look for the cause of the noise, she started when she saw Noah picking himself up off the ground. “Noah! Get back here!” she yelled, breaking away from Todd and hurriedly stepping through the field towards Noah. Todd watched her quietly, a confused expression dominating his features. Watching his wife and son as he was, Todd was unable to react when the younger man spun and swung his fist into Todd's stomach. He gasped in pain and fell to his knees, bent over in pain from the impact to his abdomen.
“C’mon, we need to get out of here!” said the younger man, waving his left hand from the driver to the cab of the grey van vigorously. His urging was met with a quick nod of the older driver’s head, both men dashing back towards the grey van and climbing in as quickly as they could. They slammed shut their doors nearly simultaneously, the driver also reaching for the key still dangling in the ignition.
Hearing the sound of a vehicle peeling out, Miriam nearly tripped over her feet as she spun to look back towards the noise. Her eyes widened and she failed to suppress a gasp as she recognized the sight of Todd pressed back against their minivan, bent forwards in pain while the grey van sped down the road, out of sight.
Seeing no signs of distress or danger from Noah, Miriam worriedly ran back towards Todd. She nearly tripped over a few plant stalks in her haste as she closed the distance back to Todd to make sure he wasn't injured as a result of the gut punch.
Noah stood watching his parents and had begun to step towards them when he stopped, having noticed a quiet noise from behind him. He turned to face the hole behind him and bent down, his curiosity piqued again by the creature inside and the subdued whining noises it was making as if it were crying.
Noah carefully knelt down at the edge of the hole and tried to make out what was making the noise. Despite the near utter lack of light, he could see the faint outline of a small creature in the bottom of the hole. “Mommy, come look! There’s something down here, and it smells funny!” he called out, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell.
Todd wheezed, looking up towards Noah. “Miriam, might as well go see what he’s talking about. I’m fine, just a little sore.” Miriam nodded, and gingerly stepped through the field, avoiding the plants and other trip hazards.
“What did you find, Noah?” Miriam crouched down beside him, squinting into the hole to try and see what had captured his attention. Noah silently pointed into the hole, towards a small light silhouette. With the last of the sun’s light gone Miriam could just barely make out the shape as that of a small creature curled into a ball. “What is that thing-- is that a pony?” she murmured.
“Why is it crying, mommy?” Noah asked, his enthusiasm waning. “Is it hurt?”
“I don’t know, honey. Todd! Could you bring a flashlight over here, please?”
A short moment later, Todd painedly trundled over to the hole and aimed a small flashlight he had taken from the minivan into the makeshift grave. As the light shone into the hole Miriam gasped at the sight of a small white-furred foal curled up in pain. Along with the sight of the foal came the unmistakable odor of gasoline. After a silence where Todd and Miriam shared wordless glances, he carefully climbed into the hole and reached down to pick up the tiny creature.
The foal started at the attempted contact and scrambled away from Todd which caused it to thump against the side of the grave. The foal fell still, its whimpers of pain increasing in scale in response to the impact.
Having herded the foal, Todd carefully wrapped his arms around the shaking mass and tried to carry it out of the depression. The miniature equine was too difficult for him to climb out with however, so he passed off the bundle to Miriam. She, in turn, carefully wrapped her arms around the quivering ball of fur and stepped back as Todd hoisted himself up beside her with a slight groan.
The trio found themselves worse for the wear and a passenger heavier as they made their way back through the field to their minivan, Todd and Miriam sporting disturbed looks on their faces as they exchanged glances with each other. When they reached the minivan Todd stopped for a minute to catch his breath, leaning against the vehicle for a few moments. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the engine and directed the vehicle first onto the road and then homeward.
Getting the foal back home had been a challenge. In order to make sure it didn’t try to clean itself and get sick on the gasoline soaking its fur, Miriam had been forced to get out of the passenger’s seat and sit with it in the back of the van, holding and comforting the pony. The foal had been quite vocal about its predicament, trying to escape her grasp several times only to exacerbate one of its many injuries and settle down, often in more pain than before.
“Todd, what should we do? I mean, if we'd just kept driving or if Noah hadn’t found her....” Miriam’s voice trailed off as she contemplated the averted fate of the foal in her arms.
“I don’t know, Miriam. I get the feeling those men meant business, it might be best if we didn’t say anything for now. Let’s just worry about that critter first.”
Seated on the edge of the bathtub, Miriam had the tiny equine standing in a few inches of warm water and was softly working the gasoline, dirt and grime out of its matted fur. The foal had mostly acclimated to her touch; while not cooperative and still standoffish, it wasn’t trying to escape her grasp or fight against the cleaning anymore. As she continued to gently massage the contaminants out of the foal's fur, it slowly began to relax and lean into her ministrations.
Working off the last of the dirt from the pony’s coat, Miriam leant back and took her first proper look at the pony foal. Its fur was a uniform off-white, and the long, flowing hair was a glossy black. The foal had a distinctly feminine build, and neither a horn nor the wings of a pegasus pony. The foal didn’t have any other markings, save for a single tattoo on the inside of her left ear, of a snake wielding a sword in it’s tail. The filly’s fur colour was what most intrigued Miriam, however. “Todd, have you ever seen a pony with this kind of fur colour or a hairstyle like this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this, outside of those special ones. What did they call them, designer ponies?”
“That’s what they’re called, yes. Why? Do you think this one is a designer pony?”
“It certainly looks that way.”
Todd walked from near the doorframe to the edge of the tub, followed closely by Noah who entered the bathroom ignoring the lingering smell of gasoline. “Miriam, I don’t like this much. Why were they trying to, well, do what they were doing?” he asked, motioning to Noah to explain his deliberate vagueness.
Noah had no such trepidations regarding the sleeping creature. “He’s so cute! Can we keep him?”
Miriam forced a tense smile. “It’s a she, Noah. Todd? Considering what was going on there, not to mention we don’t exactly have any way of finding out who this girl belongs to, I don’t think there’s a lot we can do. We might end up having to care for the foal ourselves if the local SPCA can’t help. Can... Can we handle a pet like this?”
Todd deliberated for a while, frowning as Noah tittered to himself about having a “pet pony” and how it was a girl, not a boy. Amidst the conversation, the small filly laid down on her barrel in the warm water, leaning against Miriam’s hand and seemingly going to sleep despite still being soaking wet.
“I, well... I suppose so. It’s not like we can just dump her, and certainly leaving her back in that field wasn’t an option. Nobody else could really take care of her, and we have been thinking of getting a puppy. Why not her, instead? It’s better than any alternatives, and unlike a puppy an MLP would both live longer and be able to take better care of herself.” Todd paused for a moment before looking to his son. “Noah.. do you want to keep her?”
Noah nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I want to keep her!”
Todd sighed, and locked eyes with Miriam. She nodded, and Todd looked back to Noah. “Noah.. what do you want to call her?”
Noah erupted with a gleeful shout, startling the MLP awake and to her hooves. “Let’s call her Rushtar!”
Miriam winced. “Noah.. how about Vera, instead?”
Emancipation
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Man, you took long enough! XD
Finally, though. I'm glad it's up!
Didn't understand it at first, but got on track moving on, I noticed that this is not bad at all!!