On the observation of evil and the escapism of oneiromancy

Yes. But if we don't see the dawn, we may be late for life!

The train from Romashkovo.

After a preliminary interrogation and strange exercises in the gym, where Belkin exuded some kind of chemical sweat and could not breathe enough, the «psychonaut» was examined again and sent to the dining room. Valentin, who had rinsed himself in the shower and dried himself badly, was sitting in the back seat of the car and shaking from a strange drug-induced chill. He remembered how surprised he was at the post at the exit of the building. Soldiers in bulletproof vests and helmets, with patches of Internal troops and assault rifle. Gray-brown plastic magazines and primitive shock-resistant collimator sights on mottled gray side mounts. Somehow, it's very serious. Then there was a trip relatively close, if by Moscow standards, and, after driving around the yards of the nascent evening traffic jam, we arrived at the place. It was a dining room. It's a common one, back in Soviet times, judging by the preserved design elements. Sour cabbage soup mixed with bleach, however, did not smell. Belkin was already heading for the trays, but he was stopped and pointed at the table. — Sit down, — Petrovich said. — They'll bring you everything. — Okay, — Valentine shrugged his shoulders. They brought something strange. Chicken broth is completely transparent, tea «in a bag», into a glass with which Sergey Petrovich poured two bags of sugar, cutting off Belkin's objections with a glance, and some kind of tiny gray cutlet with watery rice. — Come on, eat. Just be careful. And then so much time on intravenous nutrition... — What's the date? — Valentine croaked. — The second of December. Did it get easier? — The curator grinned like the bear in the joke. — Damn it... — Pancakes are not allowed yet. That's for me. But you can tell me something. It's clean here. — I think I've laid it all out, — Belkin swallowed a spoonful of broth. — Unicorns almost never came across, and I don't know much about magic. As I said before, I'm anti-magical there. Like a boulder, if not worse. The presence of persons appearing in our «cultural» space has been confirmed... Muzzles... Petrovich nodded. — Expected. — The pony has some kind of shooting range. I suspect that the level of our nineteenth century. Cartridges with a paper sleeve, ordinary lead bullets of an ugly shape. Another nod. — According to rumors, — Belkin felt a little sick, and he put down his spoon, — The mentioned a muzzled faces dragged themselves somewhere because of some magical problems to the place of my first projections. And something went wrong there. — How wrong is it? — I understood that they returned in such a state, as if they were going to go to the opera to listen, and they were fucked there on a drunken bench, and they don't remember who exactly. It was a few days before my dive. This is where this shit was supposed to happen. — This stuff didn't stop. But let the specialists figure it out here. What else? — Strange emblems on some samples of devices and equipment. Did I mention the transformer and the refrigerator? — Yes. — Again some tools and nuts inside the gear. Or in the background. Now in a steam locomotive and on a tractor. By the way, the locomotive is interesting, with a four-cylinder steam engine and transmission of torque to the wheels by a driveshaft. Smoother traction is expected with poor speed characteristics. But there are more and more loads there. — I'm still surprised at your sneakiness! You got a job on the «hardware!» — Glitches are the same. Wherever you can't get a job. And by the way, the engine with two cylinders, one cold and the other hot, is not «Stirling», by any chance? — It looks like it. «Alpha», if I remember correctly. The most primitive and material-intensive. — But it's technological. I was standing on a tractor. — Yes? Well, how is it? — How-how... It is clear why they did not take root with us. There is no power, the revolutions are small, bulky... the only advantages are that it works on any combustible crap and is quiet. And again these emblems. And more... — Yes? — Petrovich was interested, but waited for Valentine to chew a tiny piece of the cutlet. — There were instructions there. Some kind of Slavic dialect. I understood most of it. But I kind of told you that, too. — No, you didn't tell me. But the form of the interrogation did not imply a free retelling of events. Only the answers to the questions. It's necessary. — You know best. But did I mention that the pony, Light Sand, can speak Russian? I doubt it's magic or telepathy there. By the way, the locals mention some one-eyed. Like, there were. And even relatively recently, one of them staged a tourist brawl, ignoring the very presence of law enforcement forces. — Have you watched a cartoon? — Yes. — Wildebeest. There were such creatures there. Arimasps or something like that. Episodic appearance, — Petrovich grimaced. — It looks like your diving will be over soon, and we will somehow cope with the mental epidemic in a different way, without looking back at this Glitchland. — Why? — There is a suspicion that your pony is fucked. — Why would that be? — Since those One-eyed Ones. I'll recommend you an interesting story later. About the white cane. And you'll think about whether the plot is related to what was happening there, — Petrovich highlighted the last word and switched over. — Have you finished? Then let's go. You go home, I go to the office. Valentine picked listlessly at the leftover rice with his fork. No, he'll eat later, otherwise he'll puke in the car. Everything was commendably fresh, albeit hideously cooked in water or steamed. Oh well. At home, he can try to sip a cup of coffee with milk. A little bit. And then there are all sorts of cases, as Lieutenant Rzhevsky said, sprinkling perfume on his ass. He took a nap in the car. Petrovich, apparently, wanted to ask indignantly if Belkin hadn't slept off in the capsule, but he didn't. The phone, plugged into the cigarette lighter socket for charging, came to life and showed the second of December. Already at the entrance of the house, this stupid brick shook in the pocket of his jacket. — Hi, little worshipper. Released? — Yeah. Hi, Lynx! How did you find out? — I was kindly informed when you will be free approximately. And then «the subscriber is online again». — I see. I could have guessed it myself. I'm being stupid. — You're being stupid. How are you? — Things are... stellar! Alive and relatively healthy. Will you come? — Nope! But don't disappear, maybe I'll get out to you. Or you come to me. — Yours, — Belkin's intonation hinted at Maryska's parents, — They treat me like shit. Their daughter is not a match for a mentally disabled person. — Don't make up your mind that you're worse than you are. They treat you normally. They're just haunted by the thought that I got you to fuck. — FnP is a real guy? — Valentine laughed, getting out of the elevator and aiming the key at the keyhole in advance. — Yeah. And if you can't see the difference... — Then there's no need to pay more? — Just try to ask why I didn't buy a dildo then! — I won't. She persuaded me. The phone tickled the background and distortion with Maryska's chuckle. — But I'll answer your mental question anyway, — It was clear from the timbre that the Lynx was smiling, but somehow a little artificially. — Belkin, I really need you. And not only Windows and Linux on a monoblock are trying to make friends. Belkin... Don't go away, do you hear? — I will try very hard, Marin… Actually, my part-time job is taken for this. If anything, they'll burn my head off again. — And it is... — No, it doesn't hurt. It's just that suddenly you feel like an old TV with half the parts burned out. There is almost no trace on the skin. There's some very tricky optics with capacitors, the focus turns out to be inside the head. — Ugh! Stop it! — Maryska, well, actually, that's why I'm still alive. — I understand. Simply... Okay, I'll call you back later, or I'll cry now. — Lynx... I love you. For internal completions...

***

Sergey Petrovich was unhappy. No, this visionary scout Belkin worked out how it should be, but... if he meets this one-eyed shit there... they've already lost one. He is still in a dope, and of all the improvements, the only thing is that he began to bring the spoon to his mouth himself, almost without missing. There is, however, this «Freya», but who is she here? A disabled person? So much so that it sticks in the capsule for months. There's nothing else for her to do here. Almost nothing. She's going to die somehow, that's all. And the direction is not really hers. The phone rattled in his pocket. — Yes? — Sergey Petrovich, there is a message from our observer. Another case. — Understood. Keep it under control. Here is another «burnt out» one. The symptoms are somewhat similar to inflammation of the brain. There's also a fever, accompanied by stupid activity, and suddenly apathy. Such that a sick person can just lie down and die. No pathogens, no toxins, except for the waste products of your own cells... And it feels like another «zombie» has been sadistically forcing himself to forget everything, right down to his instincts, all this time. How? There were also statistical patterns: this happened to those who left the areas recorded by magnetic antennas for a long time. At first, he sat there forever, and then he left somewhere... And the zones wandered, and because of the extremely low frequencies and blurred boundaries, the direction finding worked on the principle of «about there». It was already necessary to solve something with all this, but Belkin could just die in a capsule. The search for at least some kind of replacement was delayed. When he reached the gate, Petrovich thought about it. The guards saw the tenant through the camera, the gate was opened, but a tired man in an unmemorable half-coat stood and thought for a couple more seconds. It was necessary to solve something with all this already.

***

— Our sister! — When something happened that required the intervention of the Alicorns, the solemn syllable of a thousand years ago found Luna. — This case is suspicious, but it does exist and requires some solution! Immediately! «That's how she screams in the morning!» — Thought Celestia, who was covered with a cake from surprise, with some sadness, noting with surprise all sorts of spoons, sugar tongs and cups on saucers that tinkled from the sound wave. — What, — The Sunny Princess removed the oily and creamy trace from the belly fur with magic and a napkin, — Happened? — In the very morning, the Night Watch, as has been the custom since ancient times, visited their Mistress with the highest report! «Sister, how do you even manage to pronounce or shout capital letter forms in speech?» — Celestia thought, but didn't say it out loud. — A-and? — Fortunately for one squirrel dog, he was not here, and he did not hear the white alicorn pretending to be a surprised horse. Accordingly, he did not go into exile for laughing. — Footprints in the sand! Not far from the place that was the destination of the Guardians' journey! — And whose footprints are these? — Celestia sighed and poured tea for her sister, gesturing for the Night Princess to sit at the table. — Who left them? — It is necessary to ask what left them! — Luna said, cocking her head. — Some creep from the Mystical South again? — And how these wheels are made, no less than six in number! — Luna continued not to hear her sister. — And who was pulling the cart without trampling the patterns of the dunes with their hooves! Celestia silently put down her cup carefully. — Where do the tracks go? — Somewhere further south, Badlands, — Luna changed her tone and style of speech as she sat down at the table. She bit the cup with a minimum of hoof kinesis, as if she felt a lack of magical powers. Celestia could do that too, but she was afraid to drop both the cup and the dignity of the ruler of Equestria. Okay, etiquette required not to use telekinesis, which went back to the days when, at a riotous drunken feast, a certain unicorn could try to drive a fork into the eye across the table to another unicorn in a crown. But not to use the magic of hoof, risking dropping the cutlery?! Enumeration. After all, the use of «sticky» hooves, which even some earth horses were capable of, said that the unicorn was so strong that it could afford to spend magic almost constantly. Luna reached for the sugar bowl, threw a small piece of dark sugar into the cup, managing to do with elegant and uncomfortable tongs only with support pads and a finger. A mockery? A gesture of disbelief? Well, what in the palace might suddenly need all your magic at all? — The guards say that it's as if someone decided to make a semblance of a school stagecoach with a steam engine and overreacted with the size. — As far as I know, the project of a school stagecoach on a steam engine failed? — The Sun Princess took a sip. — And not least because of the required size? Luna shrugged her shoulders. — I could send Guards there... — Yeah... I've already sent the Elements there... All six are being treated, and not only with magic, including mine, but also with alchemy in addition. But you're right, and we need to do something... Can you single out from your «bats» those who are not afraid of the sun? It's not too hot there right now. — Definitely, — Luna took a sip from her cup. — They're all not afraid. Tasks? — Let them take care of some pegasi. The arrangement of the camp and the strip, security… And they will conduct reconnaissance from the air. — Won't the batponies be able to handle it? — Have they learned to stay four miles up without magic? — You mean those?.. Freaks. — And what will they see from such a height? — Something. And special photographic devices will help us to see. Not all subjects get into their heads? — Before, nothing prevented you from trampling on someone else's memory! Moreover, the duty of the subjects... — No, — Celestia put the cup down like a dot on a piece of paper. — I remember one unicorn saying that cattle should suffer. — The old days? — Not very. About thirty years before your return. Or forty. I didn't think much of it then... But now, I swear, not a single pony... — Just a pony? — So far, only ponies. I can't do it all at once. Luna said nothing. Yes. Those earth ponies, apparently, did not belong to ponies. They treated cattle. «Unicorns have not yet recognized the right of earthly ponies to live by their own mind», — The Night Princess thought. She stood up, nodded her thanks for the tea, and went to her room. When she was far enough away, she cast a distorting spell. Then she sent a wave of magic through her and tried to recognize the response. Exactly! Some kind of herb in tea, slightly enhancing the diuretic effect of the tea leaf itself, but weakening the stimulating effect. You won't notice it while you're awake. And it's worth going to bed... You'll jump up with bulging eyes and, dancing and knocking over furniture, run into the privacy room. Luna grinned and decided to pretend she hadn't noticed the joke. Let the little sister suffer, wondering if the trick was successful or not. And if the white asshole tries to repeat the trick with a larger dose, innocently ask if she has signed up for a poisoner for a long time. There will be a lot more to say. Luna knew what it was like to play too much. In the chambers on her side of the palace, the Night Princess, already falling asleep, suddenly thought about those earthly ponies. What if they master their magic? Real magic? Incomprehensible, wild, but effective and irresistible because of its strangeness? Amenable to some kind of systematization for an earth pony, but chaotic nonsense for a unicorn? Luna opened her eyes, looking at the ceiling painted with magical colors under the night sky. It was that rare moment when the alicorn, almost a deity, suddenly became scared almost to the point of incontinence. And no tea is needed. «They'll sweep us away», — Luna thought.

***

— Your Highness's visits, — The unicorn in a bathrobe and a white cap bowed, — Such an honor for our hospital! — Oh, my dear Caerful Cure! Who would say that! — The Sun Princess winked at the unicorn. — I should thank you for returning health and joy of life to those ponies who do unpleasant work for me on the border of Equestria! And even more so, I am grateful to the legionnaires themselves, who understood the need for urgent treatment of the Keepers and were ready to suffer some inconveniences! To be honest, I still don't believe that this idea of Luna with the Legion worked out as it should. But — shhh! — The Guard guards the peace of the subjects, the Legion guards the borders, and the Guardians... — The unicorn began some kind of loyalist pathos. — By the way, how are they? Only the truth, please, — Through the kindness and understanding in the voice of Celestia, who interrupted the doctor, it was as if a draft from a distant iceberg had passed. — All right, — Dr. Cure nodded to himself, a little dumbfounded. — They are on the mend. Rainbow Dash is slower, but the dynamics are positive. And here's another thing... — What, doctor? — Celestia asked sympathetically. Discord himself probably couldn't guess what was going on in her head. — If it wasn't for your magic... The magic of the alicorn... I'm afraid, — The doctor shuddered, — We would have lost Ms. Dash. Things would be difficult with Ms. Pie. And with you-u... you-ur... student... — What was found there? — The princess looked into the eyes of the doctor, who was carefully averting his gaze, as if he were a naughty foal, lifting his head by the chin with the tip of a feather. The doctor was shaking slightly, as if he was guilty of something. — Cancer of unknown type. If there was anything else that could be done with alchemy and standard spells for Pie and Breeze's patients, then you just saved Dash, Your Highness. And Princess Sparkle was on the verge of a strange magical illness of a mental nature. If it were possible to lose magic in the same way as losing blood, then... it was as if she was slowly bleeding out her own life. — And these papers? — A tear trembled in the corner of the white alicorn's eye. — It's nothing like that. It's just that someone from colleagues unknown to me really wanted the Keepers to get to the hospital alive and in their right mind. Most likely, one of your royal sister's thestrals. Of those that... — Why didn't you forgive me? Maybe... and yet, these unknown ponies helped our heroines, — The princess hugged Care with her wing and pointed at the study, hinting at a conversation with closed doors. Celestia could guess about the floor in this office painted three times in different colors, but she didn't know why it was done. Rather, she would consider it a medical whim, a desire to hide work of inadequate quality or spend funds allocated by the treasury on a heated floor with newfangled electricity. And why would magic reveal a metal mesh under the paint? The fact that the wire goes quite far behind the building and then in some kind of technical or warehouse hut in the backyard dives into the box of a field phone, Celestia could not even dream of. Luna also didn't believe in this adventure at first. But lo and behold! Which notebook are her guards already scribbling on there? The doctor, though he continued to be afraid, cheered up a little. The conversation promised to turn to financial topics. And Celestia, combing her own paranoia, wondered if these unknown saviors of the Keepers had guessed the essence of the alicorns? It's just that Pinkie Pie's caveat that not everyone has papers stuck on their front hoof... Well, when someone is on the tail, it can be considered just an inappropriate joke. But on the finger of the rear hoof... «Like a body in a mortuary», — The princess thought. And who got it on? Twilight Sparkle. The princess. Alicorn. A student of Celestia herself, although the Solar Princess claims that the training is over. Don't these batponies know too much? But... is there a conflict with your sister again? For those who have been waiting for their Mistress for generation after generation, Luna will not just stand up like a mountain. She and... If she puts me on an ethereal projection of the sun, I'll come back drooling and puddling like an idiot or worse, Celestia decided. «I need to be careful, otherwise... either I'll lose my Lulu, or she'll lose me». The option of «finish raking everything under yourself, white ass, before fate pulls your legs out» has not yet occurred to Celestia.

***

— What's the matter, Ms. Sand? — The unicorn lit the light on the tip of the horn in surprise, although there was enough light from the bulb. — Are you crying? — No, I... I have to, — Sandy shook her head. — I have to apologize. — To whom? — In front of you, doctor. Chip Resepi stood aside to let the pony into the house. The nurse, the Soft Care, has already left, everyone needs to rest. However, it won't take long to run and call. Although, of course, you need a phone, to be honest. But expensive. — So what's your problem? — Light Sand, who had gone ahead in the ass, had to speak, which made the ponies dance and look around. — What did you say about me to someone? — I... do you remember that I promised various medical things unknown in Equestria? — Does that foreign squirrel dog know anything about medicine? Am I right? — Dr. Resepi grinned and pointed the pony to a patient chair in the office, where this Ms. Sand, like all ponies, cautiously entered through the open door. There was no point in closing the office at night. If someone had broken down the front door, it would have been the inside one... — He... he could have... I had a fight with him. He's gone, — The pretty good pony Light Sand, who was perched on a chair, sobbed, feeling very disgusting. — Well, maybe he wasn't going to tell you anything? — He's made no secret of what he knows. It's just, — Sandy shook, and tears began to flow, — I really offended him... And he left. But I didn't want to! And he... — What is he? — And he just disappeared through the ground. I've already asked everyone, all I have to do is go to the sheriff! — Maybe he's gone somewhere? — Where to?! Who would just sell him a ticket to Canterlot?! — Well, he might not have gone to Canterlot. In the same Applusa, for example, to work on a farm. You never know which apple press is broken? — The doctor rubbed his temples with his hoofs. — I think with his ability to handle thinking machines... By the way, where did he get the money from? — He earned it. He fixed the electricity. Do you remember that half of the city had no light bulbs? — Yeah... but I don't think you need to apologize. I got something. So stop crying, — The doctor made an incomprehensible grimace, as if kneading his jaws, — I prosto idite domoy, yesli ne hotite chayu. — And?.. — Yes. The spell works both ways. That's what's dangerous. You need to keep the sequence in the right key, name the words in time, and in your head some kind of cluttered warehouse with someone else's grammar is formed. What kind of concentration is there? — I'm sorry. I did not know. Chip Resepi waved his front foot. He got up from his chair, opened a drawer and took out a cardboard package. Deftly opened it and telekinesis pulled out a two-layer paper adhesive, bulging with pills enclosed between layers of paper. He threw it on the table in front of Sandy. — The hay is solid. Nothing dangerous. Accordingly, nothing serious. But it helps to calm down. — Thanks. Shall I go? — Well, if you don't want tea... And don't worry about this dog squirrel... What can happen to him? — With him? Anything. As with any of us. — Sandy wiped her tears with her front foot, making the doctor wince. — Well, that's the way it is... Silk Wing. Recently, the doctor saw this pegasus again. Who would have thought that such a thing could happen? And it's not somewhere in the desert, in a remote forest or in a workshop. Almost in front of the pony. Or maybe not almost. They saw someone from the list of «untouchables» and dispersed. Chip Resepi decided that it would be necessary to learn some specific spells somehow. Or use the ones that he himself advised unicorns to recover as soon as possible after magical overstrain? When it seems that everything, you can't move? «She shouldn't have stayed for tea. As if I was going to molest her», — Chip thought as he saw off the earth pony Light Sand and closed the door. After that story in the capital, he was generally afraid to get close to anyone. Enough. And in general, how can the court decide whether the treatment was correct or not, if the main criterion is the saved life of the patient? And those who are friends. Suki vse pogolovno. No, it's enough to harass yourself. He's in business, he has a place to live, no one spits after him and slams the door of the store in his face. And even that earth pony Ice Candy winks and is not averse to meeting in a different setting, and not in a candy store. But... yes, anything can happen in this thrice-baked Equestria. And it's a shame when cute friendly ponies try to destroy your life for no reason or even in response to the kindness they have done, showing remarkable abilities for sophisticated filth. Dr. Chip was standing on the porch. The lanterns were working, and the stars were almost invisible. It seemed that a flying cart, accompanied by strange pegasi, flashed against the background of the moon. Thestrals? Did her darkest self get lathered up somewhere by midnight? Chip Resepi decided not to bother his head, at least until this crookedly layered version of Stalliongrad settles down and settles down.

***

Chrysalis was standing on the deck of the sandboat. It was hot. They were almost through the Forbidden Jungle when the Queen ordered them to stop. It will get colder at night, after all, the snowy month is coming. Yeah, snowy. Especially here, at the very edge of the desert, if you approach it with equographic measures. Chrysalis chuckled to herself. It seemed ridiculous, but because of the pegasus weather activity, the zone of harsh continental climate was displaced to the south of Equestria, and snow could fall in the desert. Sometime in the morning. If it was already quite after dawn, the snowflakes did not even reach the sand, but at night the dunes sparkled from frost and delicate snow wool. Last time, it was funny to watch how, stiffening in the cold, various claw-footed, toothy small creatures shove solid water between their jaws. The lizards did not lag behind them either. And even some snakes, twitching absurdly and as if trying to inflict a deadly bite on the sparkling miracle, snapped at the scratchy cold moisture with their mouths. Only here it is. Only here, in the south. The Queen turned around. — Well? — My queen, — Silent Spark bowed as he approached, — We have restored the spark receiver... — And the transmitter? — Alas. — So we're just listening, but we can't answer? «In no case will we reject magic as such. But if something can be done without magic and done well, we should use this method. Until we find our own massively reproducible magic», — The creature was speaking. A terrible creature with the empty dark gaze of a mother who lost a foal in the war. With the look of a hard labor survivor. With the look of a suicide bomber. The creature preferred to always wear clothes. The creature regularly disappeared and reappeared. The creature was rumored to have the charred skulls of its relatives at home. The creature was a member of the Council. Just like Chrysalis herself. — Spark, listen, — Chrysalis squinted at the tense communicator, — Is there no other way? Of course, I don't understand anything about this electrical magic of yours, but is there any other way to arrange vibrations in the wire? Can I at least give you confirmation that we're still alive here? Like a heliograph? — I don't want to get my queen's hopes up ahead of time, — Changeling bowed, — But I need to check something immediately. — Go ahead. Will you need my help? — The queen was an alicorn and could do a lot. — Most likely, yes. A little later, my queen. The queen dismissed Spark with a gesture, winced, twitching her ear and hearing the ornate swearing of the team sent for fuel. The jungle had to be passed on firewood, the dark viscous mess ended just at the Southern Gate. «Working as a shredder again», — A thought flashed through the head of a disgruntled chitinous alicorn.

***

I don't fucking like it. I'm sitting here, a partisan stowaway... The territory of the gardens, by the way. The Apples. That's who I didn't want to see and don't want to see. You can't explain to them that you don't have time for apples right now, and you need to somehow fence off a private territory. Ponies don't have real hooves, and if they notice, they can approach quietly. So, keep your eyes open, Belkin. By the way, I didn't understand, do they really have gardens all around here? And there are Apples all around? Fuck, how are they not all married to each other here, these Apples? Or does this funny natural humor in relation to offspring not work for ponies? Or does it work, but the rulers don't give a shit? Like, dumb, but strong is more useful than a pale, bespectacled, abstruse dumb? Maybe. After all, all states are concentration camps. With appropriate medical experiments and painted crematoriums for those who did not survive these experiments. I wonder if they'll give me a medal if I die from the drugs they're sending me here? Posthumously? Or «Happy New Year, fuck you»? The guys are kind of muddy, but obviously not by themselves, their native state somehow keeps them on a leash. But he hardly looks at what they are doing there. What am I doing here? I'm waiting for the train. I showed up at the dump as planned. One of the previous markers, as I was told before sending it, turned out to be strongly displaced. So think about it, a turtle rolled away in a sand tornado, someone found a cool and scary thing, or... Or. One of the markers could have already been lying in the middle of a cozy cell with a bricked-up door. An old friend of Light Sand, I think, is able to hurry up and hand over the turtle to some Guard. Or she organizes a fun torture cellar herself. If I understood everything correctly, certain forms of deception of your neighbor are allowed here, and if you are not your own and still distant, then it is better not to mess with cute ponies. And don't even get in their way. Some kind of sudden uncontrollable craving for a scammer, followed by sadistic antics. There are few exceptions. That Charming Coal railroad pony, that barmaid, some kind of Dish... A plate? Oh, the doctor is still there, but I've only seen him a couple of times, clearly not enough to trigger a «bookmark» in the head. Plus, I don't know what else they put in my head. Let's hope Petrovich is vigilant, and I'm not a danger to Lynx. They put a first-aid kit, a combat kit and a lighter in my drawer. And a gun. By the way, the lighter was put in my pocket. Like, it doesn't count that way. As a result, I got it deformed by some unknown force. The shoes didn't fit anywhere anymore. After the appearance, I had to find old things. Won't it work? We are looking for a successfully abandoned box and drag it to a new point. There we dive in, say the passphrase and reappear with a different set of items. But the old one was found. I turned the previous tattered jumpsuit into a kind of backpack, stuffed the guns into my pockets. I put on my shoes. They stink already, but what can you do? Moreover, I'm in a landfill. A bum, goddamnit! Now you need to hone your ability to stink against the wind and pour everything inside, from cider to kerosene. Well, sleep anywhere. To complete the picture, it will only be necessary to shit yourself in a combat suit. With these thoughts in mind, I left the landfill to take advantage of the morning twilight and squirrel dog vision to quietly walk along the railway. The train will be very late in the afternoon. The return flight will take place late in the morning, from New Haven or this Irvind. The westernmost point of Equestria. Lie. There are still lands on the awesome outstanding peninsula to the north, but there are no official towns and villages there anymore. Like, changeling territory. Although, if you think about it, what the fuck are they doing in the Badlands? The other side of the continent. The gardens came almost to the ironwork. Fuck, the apples with those fun compounds that usually accompany the combustion of natural and not at all purified coal. Bon appetit, ponies! But here the condition of the garden is not very good. Don't have time to keep track of the entire planting area? Did you grab more territory than necessary? I somehow... I settled down on the outside of the turn. Why? Well, it would be natural to keep an eye on the road from the inside, where the boiler does not block the view. And I'll have to start ahead of time. They might notice. In the distance I saw some young horses closer to the station. That's what they forgot there? Just fooling around and poking around the neighborhood? Did you arrange a hike? Well, a picnic with the local strong cider and some griffin tobacco? Or even just have sex in nature, testing the fate of local contraception? It made me shudder to think that that Clementine had gathered a bunch of classmates or some other friends in order to hunt a strange stranger. That's just not enough to kill teenagers! But I have to. These will not fall behind, their hormones form a false idea of immortality and continuous luck. Then what? Bring down one of them, but not to death? Let them panic and run in circles. Go to the steppe yourself. There's nowhere else to fucking go. It's a long way to the desert. To the northwest, however, there are some Terrible Gorges, but... I unfolded the map I had picked up back in Dodge City. Dodge Junction, if that's right. But the locals changed it. By the way, I stole the map at the depot, not at the station itself. It was lying there. It feels like a chicken was wrapped in it. Vegetarians are fucked up. Sand said something about fish, she ate fried eggs, as it should be, but these ponies don't see the edges at all. They're really fanning the panic over the griffin menu! And yourself? Doesn't it count? Oh well. Everyone wiped their ass with this card. I'll be patient. Moreover, the teenagers left. Behind all these thoughts, I managed to wait for the right time. I was lucky to get dropped off this morning. Does this have anything to do with our morning? I have no idea. The train was a little late, as it seemed to me, but there is no clock, I can't check. I got up and jumped. I wanted to tighten the lacing, but it's too late. I walked briskly towards the tracks, wondering when it was time to break into a run. On the move, he patted his pockets for zipping. The makeshift backpack was dangling, the first-aid kit and an empty flask were not enough for weight. As expected, the freight cars (both) are hitched behind the passenger ones. It's not surprising, considering that ponies don't like it when the carriage jerks when the train departs. I had to speed up. I expected that there would be more cars, and the train would barely drag at the turn, but somehow the volume of trade- and passenger turnover failed. Damn, I had to test my skills somehow! Otherwise, it turns out that my parkour is not as strong as I would like. Late. I broke into a run and, calculating the moment, rushed across the train, looking for something to cling to. The boxcars were equipped with a kind of two-way «porch» in front and back, and I rushed up the steps, grabbing at anything. Some additional handrails (or footrails?) there was no. The blow almost knocked me unconscious.

***

After catching his breath, Belkin experienced a moment of delayed nervous reaction. It's a good thing the embankments were very conditional here, otherwise we would have to climb on the run. If he had slipped under the wheels with his feet... it is clear that he would have woken up in a capsule. With legs that don't work on nervous grounds? Or with a micro-stroke? No, fuck you! Now sit and relax. The main task becomes not to oversleep the stop to replenish coal and water reserves. There he will have to climb onto the roof of the car so that they won't notice. Again, riding on a roof like in India is a bad thing. Pegasi will notice. And there they can fly in to the driver, like, my dear, but why the fuck are you putting smuggled passengers on? Or are you not following the composition? The version with the self-confident feathered moron sitting on the roof of the wagon was even worse. And what? We'll have to shoot. «I have a ticket, I'll show you now». Get into the «backpack», get a gun under the cover of a rag and push it through the cloth. Blood, feathers, the body of a winged horse rolling down from the roof of the wagon... Can you do it, Valik? Are you not only a fool, but also a psycho? Valentine no longer knew what he would do. The natural and habitual cheerful anger gradually burned out into depressive hatred. «I'm dead, so don't you live either!» Y-yes... So you can go completely off the rails. And the task? But for now, a squirrel dog with a strange name is riding on the service platform of the car, or whatever it is called, and is driving towards the One-eyed mentioned by that cow. Arimaspi? He was a little stressed by the memory of the story he had read, but there was no smell of a recognizable white cane here. Hardly anything like that. Petrovich is being overly cautious, scaring. But with the recommended line of behavior of a guerrilla or the Elusive Joe, the authorities guessed right. Rather, it would be about a nimble and cowardly spy. The Elusive Joe is unlikely here. According to the joke, no one really needs him, but there's a ponies here. They'll get to the bottom of it anyway. That winged ass, he remembers, asked everything if there was a license or a diploma... Belkin somehow got away in the style of «checkers or go», but the fact itself... Fuck, they have half the city by candlelight and kerosene sitting, their electrician knows where, they are already looking for a wagon and a small cart, and she's about the diploma asks! How's she, Clay Cup? She would have continued to drip into the glue bag... diploma... of the doggy electrotechnical institute named after academician Pavlov...

***

At the railway stop, where they stopped to replenish coal and water supplies, he climbed onto the roof of the car. Instead of the expected iron brackets, a wooden ladder was nailed to the wall of the wagon. Did they save metal? Or is it unpleasant for a pony's hoof to lean on a bumping rod? Anyway, the man in the guise of a squirrel dog climbed up, lay down on the heated and smoke-smelling roof and calmed down. The ponies were inspecting the wagons from below, tapping the wheels and something else with hammers, and Belkin was lying and looking at the sky. None of the winged horse brotherhood inspected the roofs of the wagons. And why? Again, no contact wires were planned. Yeah, for another hundred years, even if the ponies used electricity somehow. He was interrupted from his thoughts by a locomotive whistle. Let's go? Yes, the wagon jerked. Having shifted slightly, Belkin waited until the train was far enough away from the parking lot. He had forgotten what it was properly called, this gas station for steam trains. After a while, he got down into the shade under the roof of the wagon «porch». The heat was merciless. The sweat glands of the squirrels dogs turned out to be strangely scattered all over the body, more and more on the shins and forearms, it was pouring directly. Well, it helped to breathe through your mouth. But the jumpsuit was sweating anyway. Fortunately, no desert fleas jumped. He remembered being woken up by a bell in the middle of the night. The whole merry-go-round with the cerebral wave has started again. The call just pulled me out of some sticky nightmare. It's that rotten barn again, slipping away across a muddy field, and for some reason it needs to be caught up. Fresh stains of cow dung mixed with blood smeared on the ground with dragging boards. Low, almost you can reach with your hand, dark clouds in the gray gloom of the sky. Something disgusting was supposed to happen there, but the screeching that became the bell... Valentine barely said something into the phone with his dry mouth. They didn't listen to him much. «Belkin, get ready, you are urgently needed. The car will be here in fifteen minutes». The car came up. A young man huddled shiveringly at the entrance got into the back seat. And after some indeterminate time, he approached the diving capsule again, very much shaking from the injected drugs. And now here. The task was changed: it was necessary to jump off the train at the territory of arimaspi. If possible, go deeper into the foothill forest. If the one-eyed stuff is seen outside the forest, then just remember the appearance and return using the passphrase. Don't talk to one-eyed bullshit, but ask around for ponies on occasion. Yes, with physical changes, try to shoot yourself in the head. That's nonsense. But the world is not quite real, you never know... So you lie down in a capsule as a man, and you get out as an imbecile, whose control of hands and feet is mixed up. The tunnels in the Mackintosh Hills began. It's a long drive, six more hours. Then the mountains should appear above the forest to the right along the train. There will be a strange fold on the left, like traces of a tectonic fault with the uplift of rocks. It's in a flat area. That's some kind of bullshit. It was as if the planet had been hit by a meteor strike. There was a strong smell of smoke, although the «railway holes» were blown through with a whistle. Another stop was expected at the exit from these Mackintosh Hills. More coal and water. Then downhill to the fork and there to the village of Hunters or in the other direction, to Foaledo on the edge of the desert. The entire condition of the railways bore traces of a barely begun decline. It seems that the locomotives are running, burning coal, but as the rails are thrown in some places in a pile, they lie there. No one is building a branch line on the opposite path, the time schedule has remained constant. They started laying rails somewhere in the center of the desert, but the path is covered with sand. How many years has it been? Belkin allowed himself a sip of water from the flask. Long. The trains here are slow to the point of stupefaction. Ponies don't get nervous. They drink cold or even hot teas in this heat, they doze off... It's probably the twentieth time they've misread what they've read in the newspapers. Well, they're poking at the window, where can they go without it... An outsider could be noticed in a populated area, but Valentine needs to «go out» before the arrow. However, there is still an option to get to Irvind, but there were no signs on the train, which train the squirrel dog jumped on, it is not known for sure. Province-S. And there's no one to ask. No, your Irvind disappears. Difficulties were planned when hiking through the forest, but here is all hope for the caution of the squirrel dog. Maybe he'll have to ask outside in a suitable place. But he didn't want to. Every re-casting does something to the head. Whatever. And it's time to stop all this. I've been to your Ponyland, and I didn't like it. The tunnels gave way to open areas, the smoky coolness gave way to warmth. Once Valentine thought he saw a speck of an airship somewhere far away, but the hills obscured everything. The train rattled its wheels, and sometimes the locomotive blew a short whistle. The narrow-gauge railway ran backwards along with the slow shifting of the landscape. The sky shimmered with the impossible soft shades of the coming evening. And it only meant that the train would arrive at a convenient point at night. Well, very late in the evening. The sky shimmered with the impossible soft shades of the coming evening. And it only meant that the train would arrive at a convenient point at night. Well, very late in the evening. «I need a watch», — Belkin thought. They're needed, but you can't get them in here. Buy it? He should have thought before. And something suggested that a wearable watch was still an element of luxury or an embedded tool. There was another problem: the passability of the forest. If there is a solid windfall or clearings with stacks of logs at a convenient point, it will be difficult to pass there. Either you get stuck somewhere, or they'll notice and chase you. They'll start shooting. But the arimaspi territory is relatively close there. «If I manage to slip off the train unnoticed at night, I'll have to hide in the nearest bushes and wait for dawn», — Squirrel dog decided. It was getting cooler in the evening. The train, if you trust its senses, has accelerated well. Seventy-eighty kilometers per hour. The bias? Maybe. On the right side of the train, the mountains were dark against the background of the imminent sunset. Some peaks unimaginable in their steepness and sharpness. A skull with one eye socket was painted on maps in the mountains. Naturally, there was no block-sized skull hanging out there. A symbol for something? Belkin thought that he would like to get off now, but he did not want to jump. If you break your leg, you'll have to crawl into the bushes and shoot yourself there or cut your arteries if the code phrase doesn't help. Fuck it. Otherwise, you'll break your neck, and you'll envy the dead altogether. There was still the option with the station. Coal, water, ponies will come out to stretch their legs... Valentine hoped that not everyone would get out and not to the last wagon. In principle, if there are at least some elements on the landscape, it can be carefully screwed. The locomotive blew the whistle, and the train began to slow down. Belkin sighed, got up and was already deciding whether to climb onto the roof or wait for the moment to jump to a more attractive side, when the locomotive whistled again, creaked and screeched with brakes, the cars rattled the coupling once more (only the new first-class passengers had their own air brakes, as Charming said), screams were heard from there are wagons ahead. «That's how you have to squeal there, what can you hear through the wagon?» — Thought the squirrel dog, who clutched convulsively at the ladder and pressed his muzzle against it. The brakes shamefacedly went off in a hiss before such an aria. Then there was a shock, the train shuddered and continued to slow down until it stopped. Belkin, somehow dabbing the blood with the back of his paw, decided that fuck him, and jumped off before stopping. He took a couple of huge steps and gently fell on all fours. He didn't have to roll. «Sterch lost a seed!» — The «spy» exhaled, looking at the dark swarming carcass very close by. The carcass roared beyond the range of hearing, broke its joints in an unimaginable direction and turned its horned head. And Belkin met the monster's gaze. What was it like? The shimmering patterns of some kind of cuttlefish. At the hypnotic picture and the feeling of worms in the head. The squirrel dog vomited bile on the sand. Without even wiping himself, Valentine got up and, squinting blindly, walked briskly towards the creature. «Sterch... lost... a seed!» — He spat out a hybrid of a squirrel and a diamond dog with blood and something gastric-disgusting. He slipped his shoes along a barely noticeable embankment, helped himself to keep his balance with his tail and randomly shifted left and right. The creature almost rose on its front paws, broken by strange proportions, the eye flickered, and Belkin, deciding that he was already close, raised both pistols to the level of his eyes, already filled with strange smelly tears. «If only there was buckshot». He managed to hit the monster somewhere in the neck with a soft lead bullet from a local cartridge, shamefully missed with a bolt that had sunk into a rare shrub, and hit another one casually... Another shot in the clouds of local semi-smoky gunpowder. A bullet? But Light Sand was also a cunning pony, she clearly wanted to test an unfamiliar cannon with cartridges of different equipment... There was a fine shot. A lot. And the eye went out. A goat-legged creature with a strange length of bones in its limbs jerked up on thin hind legs, one of which was probably damaged by a blow on a steam locomotive. The creature was writhing, as if its ribs were also broken. Naturally, the monster fell down and twitched, clutching its muzzle with a relatively healthy paw. «Fuck, where are you all?!» — The squirrel dog yelled. There should be three more bolts... or even four... Get even closer. He need to come closer. Shot in the groin. There was a low and muffled boom, as Piglet would say. The monster made an indeterminate sound and almost imperceptibly lashed the air with its hind legs. Shot in the chest. Like a firecracker in a drum full of rags. And a shot in the face, where the eye should be damaged by the shot. Through a paw that looks so much like a hairy hand. There was a popping sound, and the monster tensed strangely and twitched slightly. Silently. Without trying to inhale. The fur on his belly suddenly moved in waves, like grass in the wind. Like a fringe of maggots. How… Animated papillomas? Belkin vomited again. His head didn't even hurt, but rearranged the pain and perception. The salty color of the evening and the deafeningly loud taste of blood. The ticklish crunch of sand under boots. «Sterch... Sterch, goddamn it! Lost...» Lost.

***

— Holy Celestia! Did he kill him? He just took it and killed it... So what do we do now? — I don't know... I'm... bue-e-e! — My dear, could you do it somewhere else? — I can't... Excuse me... — Oh, Sisters! Maybe we should leave this creature here. Let him lie down and go wherever he wants! — You're still going to offer to kill him! — What if it's dangerous? It killed this poor one... — Arimaspi. Who possesses... possessed incomprehensible magic and, if I correctly understood those ornate words of the machinists, broke the arrow. — But... what if he was coming to warn us? — What? Blya, I see almost nothing... What about it? Didn't you climb any more? — The dog lying on its side, or someone else, sat up abruptly and pawed at the sand. He groped and picked up the weapon. One miniature rifle (almost a revolver, but instead of a normal barrel and drum, a flat block, badly punctured with six holes), he clamped between the knee joints of his lower paws. Or legs, you won't understand it. The second shooting farting (the griffin word «pistol» suggested itself) A dog with squirrel-like features and unusual proportions of paws threw back the barrels and, almost by touch, dripping on the weapon with strange cloudy tears, pulled out and threw away four shell casings. He took new cartridges from the breast pocket of his clothes and inserted them. He repeated this for another gun, but only in the two-round version. Apparently, he didn't spend any more or just didn't have any stock. — What is it, ladies and gentlecolts? Can we move on? — Mannerly, to hide his fear, some white or light gray unicorn asked, lifting the cartridge case with magic and examining the horns in the glow. It was getting dark almost before my eyes. The sun had hit a mountain peak and was pouring out a crimson sunset light. The sky trembled, masking the moon behind the time shift. The strange creature turned its head at the soft patter of the pony. — Footprints. Footprints of this, — An earth pony in a uniform jumpsuit jerked her tail, tied in several places with a ribbon, towards the carcass. — It's true, he broke the arrow, the wendigo burp. And here we are. Apparently, he overestimated himself, he jumped on the locomotive with his horns. And I also wanted to reduce the delay, I added a steam more. Now they would have flown off the tracks to Discord... — Maybe it wanted to warn us! Isn't it reasonable? It was... Gold rings on everything, from horns to hooves, confirmed that it was: reasonable. And the traces of activity said that it was also maliciously minded. — What's with the arrow? Will the train pass? — A squirrel dog or a dog squirrel blinked and stood up on its hind legs. — Is it really possible to fix it? — Everything is twisted there. It's jammed in the right position, but the mechanism is broken. We'll get to Hunters, and then we'll send a message with pegasus, — Said a gray-haired stallion in a mane-an earth pony of light blue, which was already difficult to make out because of the coming darkness, color. This one was wearing some kind of formal frock coat or tunic with polished brass buttons. — Which Hunters?! Quite ohueli? They are already hunting your hunters there! You can't look them in the eye! — The stranger twitched. — Let's go the other way! Or even back! And inform the authorities! — How to get back? I need to go to Irvind! Not back to Applusa! And not in Foaledo! — A pony screamed. She was supported. — Is Hunters yours, is he at the edge of the forest? — The squirrel dog grinned. — Forests, from where... — My dear, calm down. This is an isolated incident. This kind of manure happens all the time in Equestria. And you just have to keep doing your business, and not try to break the schedule or create a panic. She'll get by on her own, — An almost white unicorn with a blood-colored mane and a strange bracelet on its front leg, like comrade Sukhov's watch, stepped closer. — You can't look him in the eye... he... — There you are! — Magic worked very badly on this creature, and Bon Voyage, with a gasp, himself put himself under the suddenly cursing and tumbling the squirrel dog. The heated sand rose up in a ring. — Help me, otherwise only alicorn can levitate him!

***

— What was that? — Belkin looked around cautiously and suddenly sat up in his bunk with a jerk. Damn, the whole bed! A once magnificent pillow, a plaid of a strange official color, which someone twisted with a roller and slipped under the side of a squirrel dog. With a roller for Valik. Who is a fool and a psycho. — Well? Are you going to hang around here for a long time? Nothing will happen to him! Dogs are tenacious. I'm still in the Legion... — My dear, I am well aware that I am not in my compartment, like the dog you mentioned, but someone should keep an eye on him while you are doing your direct duties! — Where are we going? — Belkin asked again. — To Irvind, where else? — A unicorn familiar from the train station incident with a dark bloody mane and similarly unpleasant eyes rolled those very eyes. — Fuck... — Belkin looked around the compartment. — I got it, — The unicorn said softly and added a little louder. — Since you've come to your senses, I think you should vacate the train master's personal compartment. — But... — I prefer to travel alone. So, the second place is free. The squirrel dog staggered out into the narrow corridor after the unicorn. The low ceiling was chalked with barely pronounced tassels on the ears. Well, the funny ceiling lights that look like translucent soup plates were definitely touched. The wagon left a feeling of poor practicality and gaudy Soviet realism at the same time. But there were no emblems and inscriptions on Stalliongrad. — Didn't you stun me with a spell? — Valentine suddenly asked the unicorn in the vestibule. — No! — Bon Voyage opened the door between the carriages and shouted over the clatter of wheels and the clank of the coupling. — You crashed yourself, my dear! I was even scared! — What? Someone wanted to leave me there to die... and someone else had the idea of killing me. So, just leave the strange animal alone. — We ponies are skittish. And some still tend to succumb to all sorts of sudden delusional thoughts. You have to forgive them. — For now, I only owe you. By the way, why were you scared? — Belkin, who did not understand anything about the understanding behavior, helped to close the door. Again, the corridor and the nondescript sliding doors of the compartment. Surprisingly little. — That you are right, my dear Valentine, — When no one was around, Bon Voyage «remembered» the name of the squirrel dog, — And there are unpleasant circumstances waiting for us at Hunters, which I cannot cope with alone. And you... to be honest, I was struck by your determination. However, I suggest not walking around the wagons. Ponies still don't believe that arimaspi broke the path. There may be excesses. The unicorn was riding curly. He either bought a two-seater compartment, or arranged for no one to be moved in to it, if possible. Two longitudinal wide sofas along the corridor wall, separated by an inconspicuous sliding door. The sofas are angular, they turn into some kind of chairs. There are two personal folding tables by the windows. And another one on the front door between the windows. The rich ponies did not want to jostle with suitcases and bags in a narrow corridor. But the toilets were traditionally located at the ends of the wagon, separated from the compartment by the nooks of the conductors. Belkin visited one of the «tubes», ignoring Bon Voyage's recommendations not to go back and forth once again. Three things seemed funny and interesting: a decent toilet area, an abundance of «handrails» and a toilet bowl. The latter, equipped with a folding crossbar above the seat to keep on particularly humped sections of the path, resembled a cross between a urinal and a standard toilet seat. Apparently, he took into account some anatomical features. However, the sralotron was pristine, and only the trace of a paper sticker and the smell of something vile fruit and gasoline reminded that this virginity is regularly surgically and chemically restored. But it's still normal. Belkin sniffed the air. It seemed that the smell of flavored tobacco could be traced against the background of antiseptic. Are they smoking ponies? Valentine chuckled. It is possible that the cultivation of tobacco without a royal license is illegal and even criminal. Especially for people of other races. Ponies were forgiven a lot. Fuck him. A squirrel dog with these creatures resembling cartoon horses does not have offspring to raise. He washed his hands, at first almost afraid of the peculiarities of the flush. If only the sink of the washbasin was blowing so loudly, as if it was going to spit... Poor conductor. He has to listen to this in the middle of the night... He tugged at a towel hanging in a loop in a tricky drawer. That rewound and left the excess length in the box. The tape? Is he wondering if it's just in a circle or with an overlap? Or is it just rewinding from one axis to another? He returned to the compartment without breaking the tricky towel rack. In his place, he reached into his pocket and dumped a small handful of bits and one small denomination banknote on the table. That's all that's left. — Is it possible to order any tea here? — None? Perhaps this is exactly what they will bring, — Barely smiling, Bon Voyage nodded at his empty cup with a wide base for stability and a wooden rim at the bottom. The anti-shock buffer of this capacity of three hundred milliliters did not work very well, which was given out by tiny chips on the edge. — Aren't you hungry, Valentine? — Suddenly, the unicorn asked, stroking the newspaper with a hoof plate (like a very large fingernail) and putting the sample of the press aside. Judging by the table, Voyage read the stock market summary of stock returns. As Belkin already knew, trading in stocks and other foreign promises was actively frowned upon by the princess. They could have confiscated the extra pieces of paper. Are they afraid of uncontrolled growth in volumes and the influence of purely financial capital? Do they retain the influence of old and «proven» unicorn clans, preventing the club societies of young and greyhound dealers from becoming enslaved? Do they just have a monopoly on securities trading and are they pinching the particularly arrogant or self-willed? Belkin didn't know much about economics, especially horse economics, to know the answer. — Is there anything I can buy here? Vegetables, some kind of cheese? Not the grass! — Grass? Well, maybe as a seasoning. We are not the half-wild ponies of antiquity in a hungry year, — The pale ashen stallion stood up. — I'll take care of it, otherwise you'll scare the conductor once again, and order something inappropriate. — Are you afraid that I will demand the half-raw flesh of an unfortunate animal? With growls and threats? — No, — The unicorn laughed sincerely, — I'm afraid that with a sullen face you will begin to demand something from the traditional cuisine of Yak-Yakistan and griffin servos and kmet, whereas they are ready to serve you, albeit simple, but full-fledged and appropriate even for aristocrats. Bon Voyage didn't go anywhere. He reached for a flat key on the wall. The light bulb came on. Then it went out, and an inconspicuous tile on a wooden decorative panel snapped back. — Is there an electromagnet retaining coil? Does the conductor have a box with numbered lights and levers? Like, if you turned it off, did you see and react? — There's a box, — Pony nodded, shifting his seat a little and listening to see if the guide was coming. The conductor, if you really get used to the situation. Belkin felt a little strange next to this stallion. Like an intelligent but not self-confident student asking a professor about something, condescendingly answering a reasonable but inexperienced boy in the sciences. — Am I saying something stupid or have I chosen an indecent topic? I apologize in advance. — Valentine, I have no idea what's behind this panel except for the lamp. And I saw the box by accident. And you, with the look of a hungover dockworker, are asking questions in a manner peculiar to a luminary in the field of electricity! And I wouldn't be surprised if that electric magnet of yours turns out to be there! So, my friend, don't try to seem dumber than you are. And before they bring us anything, — Bon Voyage got up again and reached for his bag, — Take your monsters. I'm afraid they'll spontaneously shoot and rip something off for me. Moreover, they have no protection against magic, except for the natural properties of metals. The squirrel dog took the proffered pistols. One dropped to his knees, the other opened and swapped the cartridges. Similarly, he examined the other cannon. He put it in his pockets. Just in time. The squirrel dog's ear caught the muffled footsteps in the hallway. The pony entered without knocking, carefully pushing the door open. As if there was nothing to knock about, if you called for it yourself. — My dear, is dinner possible? — Absolutely, — Then an earth pony in years with a piercing blue coat began to list the names of dishes. A lot of things in Belkin's head didn't translate. Syllables and letter forms are understandable, and the words have completely degenerated into the likeness of «packs», «bumps» and other «worms». The unicorn thought about it and named the name and quantity. And two cups of tea. And something small and sweet. The conductor nodded, took a couple of coins and disappeared. The amount was a bit ridiculous, which Valentine noticed out loud. — This is for the extra dishes. The price of a first class ticket already includes either lunch or dinner and breakfast. — And... — Don't worry. The food is not wasted, the lower class has lunch and dinner later, and for a nominal fee, unused dishes in untouched packaging are offered there. But simple ponies prefer to take food with them. It smacked of handing out leftovers to the poor, but there was also a careful attitude to the most obvious result of someone else's work, to cooked food. There was no mockery of demonstratively buying and throwing away what others did not have enough money for. Valentine didn't know how to react to this. And he didn't react. He just nodded. Features of culture. It seems that the segregation of the population, and on the other hand, respect for the foundations of civilization. The food was in tinned porcelain and tin trays and bowls. Stewed vegetables, steamed and sprinkled with cheese, fresh vegetables… Belkin did not recognize some of the products. And then there was the fish. Fillet, strangely cooked, which made it seem spongy and made it difficult to identify the dead marine life. But Bon Voyage was not considered. He casually threw a napkin on his hind legs, pinched the meat into slices with a fork, dipped a piece in milk sauce and put it in his mouth. The taste was set off by alternating vegetables. — You are constantly catching your eye on my cutie mark. Is something wrong? The Mark depicted three horseshoes on the background of a circle. Horseshoes bristled at the edges, burying their front parts in a schematic image of a golden bit. — Why do you need horseshoes? And how do you manage to wear them? — The edge of the hoof feels almost nothing on its hind legs. Punctures in the keratinized skin are carefully made... — Bon Voyage named this familiar word to Valentine, which the human brain stubbornly translated as «nail», and conditionally showed the mentioned action with a fork. — And then the horseshoe is attached to special nails made of soft iron. The edges are bent. Later, they began to use long screws with decorative nuts. And then the doctors got tired of treating another torn hoof or expelling the muck brought into the puncture and asked Celestia to ban those shoes that require holes in the legs to be worn anyway. Now horseshoes are attached to the soles of rough working bots. Have you seen the Legionary boots? Also with horseshoes. There are even filly shoes like that. Well, there are hoof shoes for the front legs. — I see. How did you get your mark, won't you tell me? — Try to guess! — The unicorn suggested overly optimistically. — What if I won the horseshoe throwing contest? Or do I know how to forge these very horseshoes? — I'll think about it, — Belkin decided seriously. After dinner, pony showed me where the washing supplies were in the compartment. The rest of the passengers had already gone to bed, and Belkin calmly went to the toilet without the risk of scaring some pony. Squirrel dog hid one of the pistols under his pillow. Impossible Equestrian stars shone outside the window. The wheels rattled at the joints and rang cleanly. Bon Voyage set the alarm in his watch and put it on the table. Actually, there was an alarm clock. An additional spring, after the mechanism was triggered, began to twist a tiny roller with teeth, like in a music box. The uncomplicated melody was quiet, but the stallion assured that he would hear and wake up. The sleepers did not want to drive up to the village of Hunters. You never know. Arimaspi did not leave his head. Valentine still couldn't get used to the woolen body covering. It seems that you are lying naked under the blanket, and you forgot to take off your T-shirt with your home pants. But this is nothing compared to the fact that... What was in the story. His thoughts turned to various kinds of nastiness and infections. — Voyage? — Yes? — The unicorn lit a dim light on the tip of what was actually a horn. — Your cutie mark reminded me of a sign that is used at my house. You don't have to answer if you're uncomfortable or if I'm prying into some secrets. — I'm even interested in what you were thinking up there. So what kind of sign did my horseshoes remind you of? — A biohazard sign. — I must admit, I interpreted my Mark differently... I don't even know what to answer you. The train was rocking busily on the rails. Bon Voyage was silent, and his sudden strange neighbor did not rush to answer. — Are you not offended? — Eh? No. I was just thinking... He was confidently trying to learn a teleportation spell. He started with small items, thinking it would be easier. Bon Voyage's family was old, but not noble. Always in the shadows. Couriers, travelers, land surveyors, they went to their rulers (and sometimes to Themselves) for another task, after which they were going on the road. Go to the yaks and agree that they will buy cheese and wool for a good price, and the yaks will stop raiding. Swim to the most adequate griffin leader. Enlist his support until the lionbird is killed by violent neighbors. Scare the shifters with the wrath of the alicorn. However, nothing ever worked out with these. It was impossible not to come to an agreement, but to start at least some kind of conversation. They considered ponies to be talking food. With Chrysalis coming to power, it became easier, and then Celestia completely wrote off the holehorn after the spoiled wedding. Bon Voyage thought that here, too, the case was somehow confusing and... no. It's enough that he's already running all over Equestria. The princesses did not demand that the family hand over their overly intelligent relative... Then he studied at a private school and dreamed of another temple of knowledge. A School For The Gifted And The Most Incredible Unicorns. He thought he could pull it off. He dreamed of hitting the commission with something complicated. By teleportation. By «blind» telekinesis through an obstacle. An inscription in the air made of small lightning bolts. And he also refused to be at the beck and call of high school students from rich and noble families in vain. Moreover, it would be fine all together, or either the rich or the noble. That's what he said. They began to bully. He wasn't paying attention. He had a Dream. They got stupid chumps out of the unrecognized. They beat the young Voyage. Mother and father decided not to leave it like that. An only child, you know. The mother managed to get pregnant in the train compartment, although there was no hope, a kind of «hello» from the pedigree. But here it is. If that's the case, they called the foal Bon Voyage, which in some old dialect meant a good trip. It didn't work out to «make» a sister or brother three or four years later. And now it's too late. Age. In general, in violation of the rules, they asked Celestia to let them figure it out for themselves. Like before. Celestia refused, but «invited» the parents of the jerks and explained in detail how valuable the Voyage genus is, and how, if anything, instead of representatives of this genus, parents of minors who are not yet convicts will go to make a description of the Forbidden Jungles and Northern Swamps between the Nigogorsky Waterfall and the Crystal Mountains. And they will go with the embassy to Ho-Chi-Mane. They weren't declared war criminals there, were they? The jerks got hit at home, and hard. But... adolescence, hormones... the quiet bullying continued. And then another thing came up. True to himself, young Bon Voyage decided to practice complex spells after school. Considering his age and magical abilities, it was akin to trying to do rock climbing on his own. Or diving. But fools and drunkards have their heavenly patrons, as they used to say in Stalliongrad. Bon Voyage mastered the time warp, albeit for a fraction of a second. He entered a warehouse that was empty due to dilapidation, which was usually closed with a wire. The inhabitants of Canterlot loved to eat delicious food and everything else, the warehouses in the city did not surprise anyone. This one was equipped in a rock crevice from an inconvenient side for building houses. The unicorn did not pay attention to the fact that the warehouse was not locked this time. He squeezed through the crack of the door in the gate, barely audibly stomped up the wooden stairs along the wall to sit on the base of the bridge winch and practice witchcraft. The feeling of height helped. From a height, he stared in disbelief at the entire company of high school students involved in the fight. Those in the clouds of greenish haze coughed and puffed their reddened eyes. — The grass is good, — One handed the smoldering twisted piece of paper to the other. — Here it is, happiness. — I wouldn't mind a filly right now. — So go. — Not if someone recognizes me there and lays it to my relatives... At that time, I was going to a vocational school for ponies from disadvantaged families. That's what the parents said. And I somehow... — Yeah, there will be other grass for lunch. And you'll become a filly yourself at some earth pony! All three of them giggled stupidly. Bon Voyage, who decided to quietly slip away from trouble, awkwardly stumbled. — Celestia's ass! This is what's-his-name Voyage! It will lay... — It won't, — Another grinned, lighting a horn. — We'll catch it, smoke it, and then... Did you want a filly? I know some secret spells here... Why? Many of the noble unicorns do this! The young unicorn didn't want to be a stoned filly. He had a tolerable existence as a stallion. He looked around frantically, dodged some kind of paralyzing spell and ran along the platform along the wall. The herbal smokers came in from three different directions, and on the fourth the ladder was broken. On the way to the steps of dubious reliability, one of the pursuers telekinetically scattered a stack of old boxes on the gate. Bon Voyage rushed around and rushed to the broken stairs. The hooves of the stoned jerks were already thumping on the platform. He jumped off, twisting his front leg. I didn't notice it at first, but then he limped off. — Did you get there? Look, stallions, how I'm going to take care of him now! Bon Voyage screamed thinly when he saw the bastard's horn light up. He jumped off after him and walked towards the unicorn, pushing him towards some kind of desk, next to which these clubs were smoking. Bon Voyage cast a scorching ray, but the high school student put up a shield with a grin. To be honest, such a shield would not have covered a thrown stone, but it was enough to dispel the crooked spell of the «small one». And Bon Voyage has conjured up the beginning of teleportation. Inside the head of this... He squinted in different directions at the same time, like a frightened cat went sideways and fell. The unicorn took refuge behind the counter from some magical dirty trick that had flown in. Judging by the sound, another lover of grass and foal groats climbed down the stairs. — He's worked the Golden Coin! — Now, wait for me! The second time warp was given with such difficulty that it made a noise in his head and darkened in his eyes. But the spell, capable of being performed by a horny teenager, except to burst a balloon or tear a notebook sheet point-by-point, turned out. A tear rolled down the cheek of the suddenly frozen high school student. He stood for a moment and collapsed as if shot. He lay there and silently opened his mouth in jerks. The third one froze on the stairs. Did he know that the intended victim could no longer cast magic? Bon Voyage's magical powers remained at the bottom. — Hey, hey! What have you done? I'll tell my parents! Do you know who they are? — And who is it? — Young Voyage asked in a broken voice. — Family Snowflake! Princess Celestia herself knows them! They're there... A spell to summon a light, for example, to light a candle, is partly similar to a telekinesis spell. And unicorns are taught not to get confused by this example. Doesn't anyone want to get a short and terrible headache right up to fainting? And Bon Voyage didn't want to. But I tried «curveball». He couldn't even scream, as if he'd been hit on the horn with a plank. The wrong light did not form. Moreover, the unicorn was «aiming» at the center of that fool's body, which guaranteed that the spell would fail. It was a kind of luck on failure. Two years ago, Voyage disgraced himself in front of his parents, deciding to show in a cafe how he could. I wanted to make a light on a straw in a milkshake. And he rolled up the yummy, at the same time crying out plaintively in pain and pouring over himself at once the heated whey muck with the semblance of cottage cheese and milk foams floating there. Bon Voyage got up, moved his head around and went to the gate. He stared at the boxes for a long time, not daring to touch them. He went upstairs to the window without glass. He got out and walked to the place where he could jump onto the cliff. There was a risk of breaking his legs, especially since the front right one could no longer be counted on, but the young unicorn coped. The satchel slid off his back and slapped the back of his head. Nothing. The pony looked at himself, dusted himself off and... On a whim, he went into a coffee shop. He said he was tired and demanded coffee with milk. The headache disappeared from the cup, sweating appeared and an unhealthy shine in the eyes. On the way, he visited a pastry shop and asked for cocoa, if there was any. Stronger. They laughed in response, but the cocoa was brought. Stronger. The third was a diner where «coffee» was not served, but poured from a shiny copper cylindrical tank with a tap. He didn't finish his second glass of Bon Voyage. He went to the diner bathroom. When he was taking a leak in a not very clean toilet, there was a noise in his ears, he had to grab the plank wall of the stall. The urine smelled like coffee. Through the stall, someone was hoofing, farting shamelessly and cursing himself for having eaten some manure again. They were found the next day. They were alive, but in such a state that... Actually, the whining of one of them was heard. They thought some animal had wandered in and couldn't get out. Naturally, the Guard and a lot of public. They found a cigarette with dope. And off it went... The problem turned out to be bigger than... it seemed. Almost a third of the students have tried something. The well-born aristocracy smeared their children as best they could until the very end of the school year. But the simpler unicorns had a hard time. Then, after discovering the smoke, they checked everyone at school with special spells. And Bon Voyage flew in. Traces of caffeine and something else in the cocoa. They called the parents, a scandal, hinted that it was better to pick up the documents themselves. He still got it at home. No pocket money, stay at home all the time, there will be an oral birthday greeting. They did not listen to objections, even tea and chocolate were banned. Water, milk, juice. Then the story continued. Newspapers. But the parents did not wait for the next portion of manure on their heads and waved to Fillydelphia, where they inherited a house on the outskirts, rented on a case-by-case basis. A new school, already for all ponies and, as a result, without focusing on magic. A Lost Dream. The current model of the trap in the competition, for which he was not allowed to the second round. But at least the parents didn't pull. The shackles of the trap were made from horseshoes thrown away by someone and found by the Voyage. They clapped handsomely against each other. Some parasprite would have been broken in two. The next day, the cutie mark appeared. Three horseshoes. And two were used in the trap. But there were three of those jerks. Everything went on as usual, he graduated from high school and saved up for an electromagnetic oscillation receiver. There was a station broadcasting news and music in Mainhattan. They say that the huge flywheel of the generator was turned by a large electric motor... They said a lot of things, but it did not bring money. And then a job turned up. Northwest of Phillidelphia, some burrowing creatures were spoiling someone's fields and meadows in the hills. He was asked to sort it out. Just on the way to Hollow Shades, in a straight line. Bon Voyage decided that, as a last resort, he would simply remain without earnings. It was a long way to stomp, but he arrived at the place. The disgruntled cows with their feet in splints sighed and loudly expressed doubt about the young unicorn's powers. The overseer of the herd of the earth pony, for some reason paired with a pegasus, indicated the front of the work. The naive Voyage tried to call the rodents to talk, then bring a frightening mess... One of these evil spirits jumped out of the hole for a second and gestured that at night they would come to the horned sorcerer and gnaw off something important between his hind legs. And the unicorn got mad. He found a fresh «sample» of the litter of these creatures and tried a spell on it to restore the soil. The shit bloomed in spots, instantly forming a layer of dry peat-like material around and bubbling with gases. And Bon Voyage began alternately conjuring the search for a movable object (shit inside the animal) and preparing the soil. For the hundredth time, his legs gave way. But the rodents, as it turned out later, left the field. Those who survived. The money was sent by postal order. There was also a message that Bon Voyage would like to recommend. So, Belkin was right in a sense. The unicorn posed a danger not by the power of magic, but by the nature of its interaction with living matter. Biological hazard. — Let's go to sleep, — The unicorn asked wearily in a somewhat cracked voice, without saying anything about his ass sticker. — Good night, — Said the squirrel dog. Belkin stared at the ceiling of the compartment and thought. There was a danger that with an «emergency» exit, he would forget a lot. He had such a suspicion. And the train rolled through the night.