“Look, I can almost fit!”
 
Rarity looked to her innocent little sister and smiled. Sweetie had been fixated on crawling into boxes since yesterday’s trip to Canterlot, ever since she’d seen that pony under the bridge. She was still too young to understand and Rarity only hoped she’d be allowed to hold onto that naivete for a while longer.
 
Benevolent tyranny was still tyranny and the edges of society were beginning to fray much the same as Celestia’s mind was. Social programs and industry that had been steered into the production of more gleaming and gorgeous housing and goods had led to fewer and fewer being able to afford such luxury. While the upper echelons of society got rich off of the sweat and labour of the masses, the tensions were steadily rising. Of course, the hardship of the common pony went largely unnoticed by the mad God-princess. Or perhaps she was just willingly ignorant, unable to face what her utopia had become. Unable to face what her careless hooves had wrought. Unable to face the inevitable conclusion looming ahead.
 
Celestia had seen to that every citizen had an ice box and a stove, but what good were those when few could afford the coal to run them, or when there was no food to buy? An economy based on handouts and an overgrown public sector had devalued the Equestrian Bit to the point of being completely worthless. Rumours circulated that it cost more to mint a Bit than what it’s real value was. But mint more they did, to feed the public works and so the inflation grew. For a nation that was a net importer this had been nothing short of disastrous. Corruption ran rampant and the black market was the only real way to procure the means for tolerable living. Every day more and more bellies went hungry, every day more and more ponies wandered the streets, their lives devoid of meaning.
 
While Sweetie, bless her innocent soul, thought it fun to live in a box, one day she might very well find it a reality. But it would not be by choice. And that was just the thing: choice. With everypony being special, nopony was. There was no choice, there was no freedom, and there was little hope. Everything being equal, only the most ruthless would flourish and Celestia’s vision of giving to everyone everything had seen to just that. The gold-paved streets of the capital were a stark irony to the reality of a social experiment gone horribly wrong.
 
The ghastly thought cast a shadow on Rarity’s smile, but only just. She was a well composed lady, after all. She knew how to hide such dangerous sentiments.
 
“So you can, Sweetie. So you can,” Rarity said, turning to nuzzle her little sister.