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Sanitation
The collar beeped and dug into my skin.
The stupor I was in vanished as its metal claws pierced into my flesh, and the sharp magical shock that discharged through my neck burned away at my cells.
I stumbled back from the window I was standing at, blinking away the red in my vision, and desperately tried to breathe. My saddles bags clattered at the movement, and I almost dropped the pail of water I had between my teeth.
Seconds passed as my senses cleared and the seared scent of fur disappeared from my nostrils.
I looked behind me to find the shuttle doors wide open, docked at the exit platform and waiting for my exit.
The collar made another threatening ding, but the message was clear enough.
I stepped from the shuttle out onto the exit platform. The doors closed behind me and the shuttle launched, disappearing into the skyline somewhere behind me as I made my way down the platform. The mega-highway in front of me was vacant, with the howling wind rolling through the empty skylanes.
Tall buildings stretched up into the heavens, each more elegant and vibrant than the next. It wasn’t very often I managed to get a job in the third ring of the city, but every trip was a beautiful trek through the unicorn tier in Canterlot. Such a luxurious life put even the second ring of the Pegasi to shame, but at least they had the freedom to fly. Such a simple freedom, and yet…
I glanced back at my flank, at the scarred flesh on both sides. Even with all the surgery the faint outline of a brush and a palette remained. The wrench and mop that had been tattooed on top looked like a sticker in comparison.
The unicorns had all the magic and wonders of life.
And all the power.
At least they kept us around. And gave us work…
It wasn’t painting, but it’s not like there were many earth pony artists anymore. Horns were much more versatile than hooves with a brush. They need cleaners more, anyways.
It kept me fed, most of the time.
Being a cleaner wasn’t too bad either.
...
My destination appeared in front of me. Right in the third from the left lane, and probably the reason they had temporality closed this skylane.
I glanced at the red smear in the road as I walked closer, and then up at the buildings overhead. The poor bastard must have splattered open like a water balloon. Most of the internals had been cleaned up, but the red stain on the pavement would need a good scrub before it was washed out.
I put down the pail of water before I opened my saddlebags, taking out the chemical cleaners and the mop.
The chemicals bubbled and sizzled as I poured them on the stain. I took the mop in my mouth and scrubbed the now reddish mixture. It took several more applications before I managed to wash the road back to it’s healthy concrete gray, but eventually it was done. I cleaned the mop in the bucket and threw the water down a nearby drain.
No sooner then when I had finished packing, had one of the signs on the mega-highway blared to life with a loud buzz. A bright yellow two-minute countdown appeared on the sign, before alternating to a small graphic of a pony running away.
I made my way back to the exit platform, as it carried me back upwards to the shuttle station. The road behind me dinged again, and the howl of the air disappeared and was replaced with the howl of engines as personal craft began to whizz by.
There was a soft hiss as a shuttle docked behind me and the doors open. I stared at the highway for a few seconds.
Some part of me wanted to run and leap into that traffic, to eat the chemicals in my saddlebags and fling myself off the edge of the shuttle platform into the depths below. The scars on my side burned hotly.
This isn’t how things should have been, isn’t what my life should have turned out to be. Inside, I screamed out at anything to help me… to hold me.
The collar tore into my neck again and shocked me.
I blinked.
And stepped into the shuttle ...
And watched the doors close...
At least I did a good job. You couldn’t even notice the stain.
The stupor I was in vanished as its metal claws pierced into my flesh, and the sharp magical shock that discharged through my neck burned away at my cells.
I stumbled back from the window I was standing at, blinking away the red in my vision, and desperately tried to breathe. My saddles bags clattered at the movement, and I almost dropped the pail of water I had between my teeth.
Seconds passed as my senses cleared and the seared scent of fur disappeared from my nostrils.
I looked behind me to find the shuttle doors wide open, docked at the exit platform and waiting for my exit.
The collar made another threatening ding, but the message was clear enough.
I stepped from the shuttle out onto the exit platform. The doors closed behind me and the shuttle launched, disappearing into the skyline somewhere behind me as I made my way down the platform. The mega-highway in front of me was vacant, with the howling wind rolling through the empty skylanes.
Tall buildings stretched up into the heavens, each more elegant and vibrant than the next. It wasn’t very often I managed to get a job in the third ring of the city, but every trip was a beautiful trek through the unicorn tier in Canterlot. Such a luxurious life put even the second ring of the Pegasi to shame, but at least they had the freedom to fly. Such a simple freedom, and yet…
I glanced back at my flank, at the scarred flesh on both sides. Even with all the surgery the faint outline of a brush and a palette remained. The wrench and mop that had been tattooed on top looked like a sticker in comparison.
The unicorns had all the magic and wonders of life.
And all the power.
At least they kept us around. And gave us work…
It wasn’t painting, but it’s not like there were many earth pony artists anymore. Horns were much more versatile than hooves with a brush. They need cleaners more, anyways.
It kept me fed, most of the time.
Being a cleaner wasn’t too bad either.
...
My destination appeared in front of me. Right in the third from the left lane, and probably the reason they had temporality closed this skylane.
I glanced at the red smear in the road as I walked closer, and then up at the buildings overhead. The poor bastard must have splattered open like a water balloon. Most of the internals had been cleaned up, but the red stain on the pavement would need a good scrub before it was washed out.
I put down the pail of water before I opened my saddlebags, taking out the chemical cleaners and the mop.
The chemicals bubbled and sizzled as I poured them on the stain. I took the mop in my mouth and scrubbed the now reddish mixture. It took several more applications before I managed to wash the road back to it’s healthy concrete gray, but eventually it was done. I cleaned the mop in the bucket and threw the water down a nearby drain.
No sooner then when I had finished packing, had one of the signs on the mega-highway blared to life with a loud buzz. A bright yellow two-minute countdown appeared on the sign, before alternating to a small graphic of a pony running away.
I made my way back to the exit platform, as it carried me back upwards to the shuttle station. The road behind me dinged again, and the howl of the air disappeared and was replaced with the howl of engines as personal craft began to whizz by.
There was a soft hiss as a shuttle docked behind me and the doors open. I stared at the highway for a few seconds.
Some part of me wanted to run and leap into that traffic, to eat the chemicals in my saddlebags and fling myself off the edge of the shuttle platform into the depths below. The scars on my side burned hotly.
This isn’t how things should have been, isn’t what my life should have turned out to be. Inside, I screamed out at anything to help me… to hold me.
The collar tore into my neck again and shocked me.
I blinked.
And stepped into the shuttle ...
And watched the doors close...
At least I did a good job. You couldn’t even notice the stain.
This story is very well written, but, uh, to me it kinda just feels dark for the sake of being dark. There's no message here, no reveal, just melancholy sadness.
To be fair, there's only so much you can do in a minific, but it kinda feels like if the story is such a complete reversal of the show there should be some purpose behind it. Maybe that's just me, though.
To be fair, there's only so much you can do in a minific, but it kinda feels like if the story is such a complete reversal of the show there should be some purpose behind it. Maybe that's just me, though.
Okay, so. Blade Runner-esque dystopian future Equestria. Unicorns rule everything, earth ponies are collared slaves. Every day, the slaves are given a new cutie mark, and sent off to whatever job they need to do. Today, they're cleaning a dead body off the highway. There's a lot of angst.
I don't get what's going on with the video of the pony running away. I don't know what the deeper plot is here besides "The character is enslaved, they don't like being enslaved." There's nothing deeper here for me to grab onto. And without any deeper plot, without any recognizable characters (our single character has neither a name nor a personality), and without any of the trappings of the MLP world, this falls flat for me.
I don't get what's going on with the video of the pony running away. I don't know what the deeper plot is here besides "The character is enslaved, they don't like being enslaved." There's nothing deeper here for me to grab onto. And without any deeper plot, without any recognizable characters (our single character has neither a name nor a personality), and without any of the trappings of the MLP world, this falls flat for me.
>>Dubs_Rewatcher
I think the video was just to tell the pony "Ok, your job is done, now get out before any of the unicorns have to see your dirty face"
I think the video was just to tell the pony "Ok, your job is done, now get out before any of the unicorns have to see your dirty face"
Shock collar! Tattooed-over cutie mark surrounded with "scarred flesh"! Someone turned into a red smear on the pavement! Suicidal thoughts!
Frankly, this was unappealing to read because it feels like over-the-top grimdark for the sake of grimdark. Reminds me a bit of the Judge Dredd universe, but without the dark humor that makes it appealing. Just a pile-up of edgy dark hopelessness.
Frankly, this was unappealing to read because it feels like over-the-top grimdark for the sake of grimdark. Reminds me a bit of the Judge Dredd universe, but without the dark humor that makes it appealing. Just a pile-up of edgy dark hopelessness.
Honestly, I much prefer the more banal and insidious style of racism where it is perpetuated by small evils and class immobility rather than outright slavery.
That said, I think the storytelling order here has two big flaws.
One, the opening is actually very confusing, as it isn't until 5 paragraphs in I can place this as decisively non-canon (up until then, it could well have been a darker take on the movie), and I don't think delaying that reveal actually adds anything. Rather, opening on the narrator observing the future skyline and THEN interrupting it with the ugly reality of things (and the shock collar) has a much stronger effect on the reader.
Similarly, I think positioning the contemplation of suicide before him doing the job, and then quickly exiting the story on his concession to do the job and take the cold comfort in a job well done is a stronger outro, rather than positioning his objections AFTER the action which makes the emotional arc wobble a bit more. It isn't awful or anything, I just think it could be stronger.
Beyond that, your narrator... honestly seems a little too... not erudite, but he certainly doesn't read like an earth pony who has effectively been enslaved all his life? He reads more like this is a recent thing, which doesn't feel like the circumstance the setting is presenting? Seems a lot more like earth ponies have 0 opportunity in this setting, rather than just being disadvantaged.
That said, I think the storytelling order here has two big flaws.
One, the opening is actually very confusing, as it isn't until 5 paragraphs in I can place this as decisively non-canon (up until then, it could well have been a darker take on the movie), and I don't think delaying that reveal actually adds anything. Rather, opening on the narrator observing the future skyline and THEN interrupting it with the ugly reality of things (and the shock collar) has a much stronger effect on the reader.
Similarly, I think positioning the contemplation of suicide before him doing the job, and then quickly exiting the story on his concession to do the job and take the cold comfort in a job well done is a stronger outro, rather than positioning his objections AFTER the action which makes the emotional arc wobble a bit more. It isn't awful or anything, I just think it could be stronger.
Beyond that, your narrator... honestly seems a little too... not erudite, but he certainly doesn't read like an earth pony who has effectively been enslaved all his life? He reads more like this is a recent thing, which doesn't feel like the circumstance the setting is presenting? Seems a lot more like earth ponies have 0 opportunity in this setting, rather than just being disadvantaged.
This is another one that's edging up toward the top of my slate, and author, I'd like to state for the record that I think this story is being underrated.
"Grimdark for the sake of grimdark" doesn't strike me as a terribly useful critique in general, but that seems to be the biggest objection being levied here. I think I see where commenters are going with that -- perhaps that the story doesn't have the gravitas to support its angst -- but I'm going to have to disagree, for one big reason and a couple of small ones. And that big reason comes back to the reason the cleaning pony is there: the suicide.
Yes, this can look on the surface like a protagonist pity-fest, since we only ever see one pony in the story, but I think a deliberate compare-and-contrast is being drawn that gives this a lot more depth than "omgz race slavery sux". (Also, it does; does the obviousness of that fact make the tragedy here worthy of dismissal?) I mean, the suicide isn't a throwaway element -- the entire emotional arc of the back half of the story is the protagonist considering suicide himself and ... perhaps not rejecting it so much as being distracted from it, but at least walking away alive. That's a pretty big statement (and I think is the deeper plot which >>Dubs_Rewatcher wasn't seeing).
I think this also hits some themes that are only rarely touched upon in pony fanfic, not least of which is the idea of Cutie Mark manipulation/removal as a tool of social control. It would be great to see more of that, obviously, as well as some kind of backstory for how ponykind got there from here, but I think the story's arc works without those and so I'm not gonna ding it for the 750-word curse that everyone here suffers.
That said, this could certainly be strengthened around the edges, and >>AndrewRogue has excellent suggestions for refinement with which I agree.
Tier: Strong
"Grimdark for the sake of grimdark" doesn't strike me as a terribly useful critique in general, but that seems to be the biggest objection being levied here. I think I see where commenters are going with that -- perhaps that the story doesn't have the gravitas to support its angst -- but I'm going to have to disagree, for one big reason and a couple of small ones. And that big reason comes back to the reason the cleaning pony is there: the suicide.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Yes, this can look on the surface like a protagonist pity-fest, since we only ever see one pony in the story, but I think a deliberate compare-and-contrast is being drawn that gives this a lot more depth than "omgz race slavery sux". (Also, it does; does the obviousness of that fact make the tragedy here worthy of dismissal?) I mean, the suicide isn't a throwaway element -- the entire emotional arc of the back half of the story is the protagonist considering suicide himself and ... perhaps not rejecting it so much as being distracted from it, but at least walking away alive. That's a pretty big statement (and I think is the deeper plot which >>Dubs_Rewatcher wasn't seeing).
I think this also hits some themes that are only rarely touched upon in pony fanfic, not least of which is the idea of Cutie Mark manipulation/removal as a tool of social control. It would be great to see more of that, obviously, as well as some kind of backstory for how ponykind got there from here, but I think the story's arc works without those and so I'm not gonna ding it for the 750-word curse that everyone here suffers.
That said, this could certainly be strengthened around the edges, and >>AndrewRogue has excellent suggestions for refinement with which I agree.
Tier: Strong