Neoliberalism

[Slice of Life][Comedy]

At two in the morning, the main headquarters of Barnyard Bargains was deserted.

For such a large company, it didn't look very impressive. It was housed in an ornate but relatively small building on the outskirts of Ponyville. The corporation, of course, had several large office buildings, including an impressive skyscraper in a prestigious district of Manehattan, but Ponyville was where the CEO's office and the board of directors' headquarters were located. It was also here that the most important decisions regarding the company's future and its development direction were made.

At this hour, however, there were only a few security guards patrolling the area around the building at a slow pace, shining the sharp light of their flashlights into the bushes. They twitched their ears alertly, listening for even the slightest rustle.

In the CEO's office, where Filthy Rich resided during the day, it was now empty and quiet.

Suddenly, on the huge window that took up almost the entire wall behind the CEO's chair, the silhouette of a small pony appeared, descending on a rope apparently attached to the roof. The intruder, dressed in a tight, black costume, skillfully tapped the window frame with a hoof. He must have known it inside out, because this gentle tap caused the mechanism to click and one of the wings to open slightly. The pony slipped a front leg inside, fumbled with the lock for a moment, then opened the window wide and entered the room.

The burglar unhooked the rope and silently closed the window behind him, then moved a few steps away from it and took off the suit. Pink fur and a Cutie Mark depicting a diamond tiara emerged from under the tight-fitting outfit.

Diamond Tiara pulled a piece of paper from one of the costume's pockets, then threw the crumpled suit into a corner with an expression of disgust. She went to Filthy Rich's desk and began opening the drawers one by one in search of something.

"Not here, not here, not here..." she muttered to herself. "By Celestia, where does father keep it? Oh!" she exclaimed softly after opening another drawer, and her face lit up with a smile. She pulled out a few sheets of Barnyard Bargains letterhead and her father's company pen, then climbed onto the chair and spread the papers on the desk.

The sheet of paper she had brought with her was covered in fine print, which was really just two words – "Filthy Rich" – repeated many times. The top of the page was filled with exceptionally shaky handwriting, which, however, gained confidence with each subsequent repetition. The last ones were already drawn with a steady hoof. Tiara had repeatedly compared them with documents signed by her father and was sure that by now her copy was indistinguishable from the original. To be sure, she adorned her practice sheet with another signature, this time made with the company pen. She nodded in satisfaction; her long practice had not failed her.

She took one of the sheets of letterhead and wrote something on it for a long time. She filled almost the entire available area. Underneath, she carefully drew her father's signature, then tucked the sheet among the documents in the tray labeled "Outgoing." She smiled to herself as she remembered the days spent analyzing the political situation, and all the expert opinions she had ordered from the best specialists with her pocket money. Now it was finally going to pay off.

Diamond Tiara knew how the company worked and knew which of Filthy Rich's decisions were for immediate implementation and which required further consultation with the board. She also knew how the office worked. Her father often stayed at the office after hours, when his secretary had already finished work. Hence, the sight of a few outgoing documents at the beginning of the day was nothing unusual for her.

Satisfied with herself, the filly jumped to the floor and headed for the exit. She threw the practice sheet and the suit into one of the paper baskets she passed on the way, opened the building door from the inside, and walked confidently onto the lawn.

"Stop!" she heard. The blinding light of a flashlight, aimed straight at her face, forced her to squint. After a moment, it pointed down, and behind it, an extremely surprised security guard could be seen. "Uh... what are you doing here?"

"This is my dad's company, isn't it?" she replied in an arrogant tone. "I can do whatever I want here! Daddy took me to work today so I could see how it all works, since I'll be ruling here someday," she added, emphasizing the last word.

"But it's two in the morning!"

"Are you suggesting that the future owner of the company that employs you can't be on its premises for as long as she wishes... Watchtower?" the filly asked, reading the name from the badge on the guard's chest. She approached him slowly, eyeing him with a look full of contempt. "Be careful, because I might remember that name and I might whisper it to daddy sometime when he's in a bad mood..."

"Okay, okay!" The guard took a few steps back. "No problem... Goodbye."

"See ya," Diamond Tiara replied and headed home. Watchtower slowly followed her with his eyes.

"By Celestia, what an awful kid," he muttered quietly to himself, simultaneously making a strong resolution to have nothing to do with Barnyard Bargains at all costs when Tiara took control of the company.

***

"Dad! Dad!"

Zircon, a young zebra colt, burst into the family hut with a wild look in his eyes, almost knocking over his father Zalimi, who was just preparing the tools needed for the daily weeding of the small patch of Zebrican land where their family plot was located.

"What happened?" his father asked in surprise. "And why aren't you at work?"

"Because they closed the ball factory! Overnight!"

"What?!" It was hard for Zalimi to believe. Zebrican children had been sewing balls for Barnyard Bargains for as long as he could remember.

"Not only that!" his son almost burst into tears. "The company decided that instead of hiring us to sew balls, they would sponsor SCHOOLS for us! And we, all the children, will have to attend them!"

Zalimi stiffened in horror.

When he was little, he went to a small school in the bush, run by volunteers from Equestria. He only went there because he was supposed to get a lollipop after each day of learning. And he did – the Equestrians were true to their word – but in return, he had to learn some symbols that meant who knows what, which the teachers called "writing" and claimed that they somehow made sounds (although he himself never heard anything from them) and were extremely important. On top of that, for some reason, they tried to convince him that two swans were an upside-down chair... And as if these stupidities weren't enough, the school brutally violated his domestic peace, barging into his private free time with a terrible tool called "homework."

He only lasted the first grade, but those were the worst three years of his life. When he heard from the older students how they told each other in horror about the cruel torture known as "poem analysis," he couldn't take it anymore and gave up further education. It was all the easier for him because his parents also came to the conclusion that school was a whim and a waste of money. Although the volunteers claimed that education was completely free, in reality, it turned out to be associated with a whole lot of expenses – for textbooks, for trips, for the parent council...

And now his children were to be exposed to the same terrible torment. And they were also being deprived of their source of financial independence, while also launching an attack on his meager resources... The agitated stallion left the hut.

"Dad, what are you doing?" his son asked, following him.

"I'm going there," Zalimi stated, breaking off a particularly thick picket from the fence. "I need to give them a piece of my mind."

***

"A courier has arrived from Zarrakawa. He says it's urgent!"

Zelasje, generalissimo, commander-in-chief, president-for-life, and soon-to-be emperor of the Zebrican People's Republic, nodded to his secretary.

"Let him enter and tell me what news he brings to me," he replied.

Contrary to popular opinion, the tradition of speaking in rhymes was not common among zebras. In fact, only shamans practiced it, as traditional zebra magic required the ability to quickly compose rhyming incantations, and no shaman wanted to lose an almost-ready spell because of thinking too long about a rhyme for "fern flower." However, Zelasje, a graduate of the Rhyming Academy in Oftenhides, had his idée fixe and believed that speaking in rhymes should distinguish Zebricans from all other nations of the world. He demanded it from everyone around him and dreamed of a time when all inhabitants of the country would do so.

And now, when Barnyard Bargains, probably under the influence of activists from Equestria, had stopped employing children and sponsored schools for them in the interior, this vision was closer to realization than ever before. Yes, the company was building the schools, but he decided on the curriculum, in which the study of rhyming would certainly occupy a prominent place.

A zebra stallion in a corporal's uniform entered the office. He stood at attention before the president.

"Mr. President! I bring news of riots in our city," the soldier recited. "An angry crowd has brought reinforcements, they don't want school, they want to sew balls, they can't build the school, because they occupied... uh... the construction site," the corporal finished somewhat clumsily. It was clear that he was not used to rhyming.

"Why do you come here with this, instead of properly clubbing them?" the president asked sternly.

"Because there might be too many of them. Clubbing won't help..."

Zelasje became angry. Now, when his greatest dream was so close to realization, something like this... He struck the desk with his hoof.

"You are not to question, just simply to club!" he shouted, making the messenger take two steps back. "I think, you do! Deal with it, that's how life works!"

"But next to it, there is the export sugar warehouse! The demonstrators... uh, threatened, that in case of use... uh, of force... all the sugar inside will burn! Uh... What is that there on the balcony?"

Zelasje turned around. He saw nothing unusual.

"Why, what is located there, that interests you so?" he asked, eyeing the messenger.

"It wasn't out of curiosity, just... uh... I'm having trouble with the rhyme..."

"Alright. I'll tell you what to return with. The demonstrators must be thrown out," Zelasje stated. He decided to leave the matter of his subordinate's rhyming skills for another occasion. "The disobedient will be clubbed, and the warehouse will be rebuilt."

***

"Only half?!"

The chief procurement officer of Bon Bon's Bonbons stared in disbelief at the shipping manifest, as if expecting that if he wished hard enough, the numbers on it would turn out to be different.

"And there won't be a next installment at all," said the captain of the ship that had just delivered sugar to the port in Baltimare. "The main warehouse burned down as a result of the riots. It looks like you'll have to make sweets from Equestrian sugar until next year."

"I wish that were the case. But we can't."

"Why?"

"The Fair Trade Act. At least thirty percent of the ingredients in our products must come from Third World countries, where, in addition, the supplier must pay a fair price, support local communities, and all that nonsense... And the Zebrican People's Republic was our main exporter."

"But there are other countries! Antylopia, Girrabwe and so on..."

"Yeah, only the sugar from them has long been contracted by those greedy griffons." The procurement officer shuddered. "I'm already afraid of what prices they'll dictate..."

***

"HOW MUCH?!"

Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle stared in shock at the price tags that had appeared in the candy store that day.

"And we won't get our allowance for another week! That means we can jointly afford..." Apple Bloom quickly calculated, "...only one bag! For all three of us!"

"Then we'll share," Sweetie Belle stated. "What do you say to marshmallows?"

"Ewww!" Scootaloo shuddered. "You know marshmallows make me terribly sick! In my opinion, the choice is obvious. It's long been known that there's nothing like aniseed!"

"Seriously?" Apple Bloom tilted her head. "You really like that rubbish? It tastes like hair shampoo! No way!"

"Well, you suggest something then, Miss Smarty-pants," Scootaloo grumbled.

"You bet I will! Peanut!"

"I'm allergic to peanuts," Sweetie Belle stated. "Maybe instead..."

At that moment, the bell on the door jingled.

"Out of the way, peasants, royalty is coming!" came from behind them. All three fillies rolled their eyes and cast a look of dislike at Diamond Tiara, who had just entered the shop with her friend Silver Spoon.

"Oh no, just what we needed..." Scootaloo groaned.

"I heard everything," the pink filly stated with malicious satisfaction. "Well, you go on arguing here, blank flanks, and I," Tiara turned to the shopkeeper, "will have two bags of mints..."

"And the same for me!" Silver Spoon added quickly.

The shopkeeper sighed. For a moment, she wondered whether to give Tiara a lesson in good manners, but in the end, she decided it wasn't her job to raise other people's children. In silence, she handed the fillies four bags of candy and took the payment.

Tiara and Spoon left the shop. The pink filly smiled when she heard through the door how, after they left, the argument over the bag of candy flared up anew in the shop. Walking past a newsstand, she noted that it had gone even better than she expected – the front page of the "Canterlot Times" featured information about the increasingly likely invasion of the Zebrican People's Republic by its neighbors – the Zebrican People's Democratic Republic and the Republic of Zebrica. Their leaders, Zidi Zamin and Zaddafi, had long had territorial claims against the ZPR, and now that the neighbor's army was busy suppressing riots, they were regrouping their troops and clearly preparing for war.

Which meant the price of sugar wouldn't be falling anytime soon.

"It's so good to be bad and have no moral inhibitions," Tiara thought, popping a candy from the bag into her mouth.

THE END