//------------------------------// // Part One of Two // Story: Dimensional Travel and Celery Stalks, or, The Opposite of Pinkie Pie // by Lidocaine Varnish //------------------------------// Dimensional Travel and Celery Stalks or The Opposite of Pinkie Pie Applejack wiped her brow with the back of her foreleg. She'd had a busy couple of days, helping the Rye family bring in their crop between the frequent rains. They'd begun to plant a patch of rye over in the next valley. The soil was poor and rocky, and unfit to grow much else in—for that reason, it'd gone unplanted for years. Unfortunately, since the land had lain unused for so long, the weather patrols had the habit of using the airspace above the valley to warehouse their surplus rain clouds. The Rye family had contacted the Cloudsdale office of the Weather Bureau, and been assured that the practice of parking rain clouds there indiscriminately would be brought to a halt—but old habits die hard, and the frolicking pegasi of the weather details were prone to inattentiveness. The Weather Bureau had been evasive when pressed for which of the weather teams were assigned territories near the valley. Papa Rye had his suspicions, but the pegasi were usually flying too high for him to see clearly. One that stood out seemed gray with a yellow or golden mane; but there was no way he could discern a cutie mark at that distance with his ailing vision. A complaint to the Weather Bureau would usually result in at least a couple of sunny days, at least until enforcement became lax again. It was during one such period the Rye family had been hustling to bring in the crop before it could get rained on again and ruined. The land had been soggy even after a couple of sunny days to dry out. Applejack had had to clear a few pounds of mud off her hoofs at the end of each day, and had begun to monitor her hooves carefully for rot. As it happened, they'd harvested the last couple of rows of rye as it began to drizzle, and had barely made it to the barn by the time a downpour had started. The last few bundles had been spread out to dry in the barn, and Applejack trudged back from the valley, looking forward to some leisure time to relax in Ponyville with friends before returning to Sweet Apple Acres. The sun felt good on her coat. She was glad to escape the overcast gloom of the valley. She spotted a purple unicorn in a sunny field. "Heya Twilight, whatcha doin'?" Applejack walked up to her friend, who was standing in an open meadow surrounded by books, papers, and scrolls, all spread out on the grass. Most of them were open, and the papers were held down and the scrolls held open by a haphazard array of stones, some of which seemed to have been plucked hastily from the ground. Some of them were shedding dry clods of dirt into her notes, and others were leaving damp spots from the fresh earth still stuck to them. Luckily, there wasn't much of a breeze. "I'm about to further my investigation into—" she began excitedly, and then corrected herself. "I'm about to do an experiment…it has to do with a spell I'm working on." "What kind of spell?" "I want to open a dimensional rift!" the purple unicorn exclaimed proudly. "You want to what now?" "I want to create hole in the fabric of time and space…tear open the very substance of existence!" she explained happily. "Uh…doesn't that sound a bit dangerous?" Applejack asked with a flatness in her voice that belied her concern. "Not at all, not at all," Twilight waved dismissively with her hoof. Examining a page dark with crowded, scribbled figures, she said, "If my calculations are correct, it should take a great deal of energy to hold the rift open even for a moment—I'm not trying to open a portal right now…I just want to create a little hole, just to make sure my calculations are correct and that it can be done." "Uh-huh…." "Creating a rift is a very unnatural state," Twilight explained, falling into lecture mode. "It's as if the weight of all time and space is holding itself together. If you open a hole, it's like digging a hole in the ocean—the water will rush in to fill it. The tear will heal itself—the hard part is making the tear in the first place, and holding it open for any length of time." "Uh…sooo…what do you want to do with a…with a hole in time and space?" "Well, if I could get one to stay open, I could use it to fold space and travel great distances!" she beamed, clapping her front hooves together. "Couldn't you just teleport?" "Unicorns can only teleport short distances," she explained. Reigning in her irritation at the question, she reminded herself that Earth Ponies couldn't teleport, and wouldn't be likely to have much knowledge—or concern—about anything so irrelevant to their lives. "And they usually can't carry much with them when they do teleport," Twilight continued. "If this works out, we'd be able to move things great distances—and anypony would be able to, without any more trouble than it takes to walk through a doorway!" "I thought you said it'd take a great deal of energy—" "Well, in the beginning, yes of course…but, once done, we might find a more efficient way of doing it…or even establish permanent gateways to other places!" Twilight grinned almost madly at the Earth Pony, waiting for a reaction. A silence ensued. "So, like, what kind of places could you go?" Applejack queried slowly. "Anywhere! Anywhere in Equestria!" Twilight said in a rush of breath. It was excitement and the thrill of discovery that was driving her frantic speech. "I could step from the library here in Ponyville right into the library at Canterlot! I could carry books back and forth in the blink of an eye, as quickly and easily as I could carry them from one room to another!" Applejack looked at her, not very impressed with the possibilities it offered in terms of warehousing books. Twilight floundered for a moment. This was big. "This is the kind of thing Star Swirl the Bearded was working on at the end of his career!" she protested. "You mean that country music singer you dressed up as on Nightmare Night?" Applejack asked blankly. Twilight growled her frustration. "You could do stuff like…you could pull a cart of your apples all the way to Manehattan in as much time as it took to cross the street!" "I could sell our apples in Manehattan?" Applejack repeated, pricking up her ears. The earth pony was deafened momentarily by the 'cha-ching!' of a cash register bell that rang in her mind. Excitement began to creep into her voice as she speculated, "I bet our apples would fetch a pretty bit in Manehattan! Fresh from the orchard, at that!" A vision of a line of businessponies lining up to her cart on the sidewalk to buy apples from her danced before her eyes. "Imagine that," she murmured rapturously. "Yes yes yes yes yes!" Twilight said, turning around in a circle tapping her front hooves together. "Well, let's get to it!" Applejack exclaimed. After a moment's pause, she asked, "Uh…is it safe to stand here?" "Yes, that's just fine," Twilight smiled. With a toss of her head, she motioned with her horn toward the center of the meadow, away from Applejack. "The most propitious place to try should be over there, by the rock with the red paint on it!" The rock was a couple strides away. The red paint was still glistening wet in the sun. "So you're going to try it now?" "Any minute now!" Twilight nodded feverishly. "It'll be the easiest to do when the celestial bodies fall into a particular alignment!" "The celery what?" "The celestial bodies—the stars, the moon!" "Ah…gotcha." "Okay…here goes…" Twilight said, taking a last glance at a sheet of figures close to her front-right hoof. Instinctively, she took a broad stance and lowered her head. Her horn began to glow. The glow increased. Sparks began to jump and fizzle from the point of her horn, and it began to glow bright enough to cast a purple hue on the grass and flowers in the full daylight of the afternoon. A point of light popped into existence about a stride to the left of the painted boulder, throwing off a few rays of energy. Twilight's face twisted with effort and she grunted as the light wavered and flickered, and then began to grow steadily. The "hole" grew suddenly larger and maintained its size; it was large enough to push a carrot through, but too small to admit an apple. It wavered a moment, dilated again. The edges of the hole were a blazing orange, like the fleeing edge of a piece of paper that was burning. Air seemed to be drawn through the rift, or perhaps out from the rift. Was it breathing? Twilight ground her teeth with effort. She could feel the hole, tugging one way and then another—it was almost like a living thing, straining this way, then that, unpredictably. Every tug threatened to snap the rift shut. She'd underestimated the turbulence involved as the hole tried to close itself. She spread her hooves further. They burrowed into the earth as though a huge weight was bearing down on her. Suddenly there was a loud "Crack!" More quickly than it could be perceived, the hole fell to the ground, growing with a roar. It seemed to stop a moment when it contacted the ground. Then it grew and raced toward them, throwing the grass and dirt into the air, gouging a trough as it ripped toward them. Twilight let out a yelp. Dirt was thrown into her eyes and mouth as the ditch ripped past her. Applejack was rooted to the spot. She didn't really see it until after it'd happened, it'd all happened so fast. Not afraid of much, the terror rose in her—she'd never seen anything so fast or destructive, and it was rushing right at her. At its rate of growth, it'd be nearly large enough to swallow a barn by the time it reached her. She spun on her hooves, digging into the ground to propel herself forward, away from the rampaging rift. The ground seemed to become fluid beneath her hooves, though, and instead of digging in, her hooves pushed through it. It felt as though she were above a void, and the entirety of the ground was but a hoof deep—and in her terror, she'd punched through it. She kicked, but didn't move. Well, she moved plenty, but not in the direction she'd been intending. She felt herself being drawn backward. She tumbled into a barrel-roll, as though she'd fallen onto her side…but she hadn't fallen onto anything. She was just falling. It was an odd sensation—falling without landing. She couldn't tell which way she was falling, either—it felt more as though gravity had shifted, and she was falling kind of sideways and uppish. She was surrounded by a soft, roiling cloud of dirt and grass blades, with a roar that blotted out all other perception for a moment. As she passed into the vortex, the sand and dirt she was being pelted with stopped stinging her. Then the roar subsided, and everything felt still. She looked around. She had neither landed nor stopped moving, though. Then things got weird. She felt forces tugging at her. She felt as though she were being squeezed and stretched at the same time, as though her bones were turning into a gooey liquid and her head was being squeezed. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, and was about to scream, the roar returned. It seemed more powerful this time, and the air had a different quality—it didn't smell of sunny meadow and grass—it smelled of dank and grime and wet stones. Then something slammed her entire body with more force than she thought she'd ever experienced. Twilight's cry of "RUN!" was lost in the roar of the rift. Her vision was blurred from the dirt being thrown into her eyes and the resultant tears. Her chest was tight with fear—not fear for herself, but fear for her friend. Her heart leapt with relief when she saw Applejack spring gracefully back and turn, out of the path of the rift, and gather herself up to fly off at a full gallop. From where she stood, it looked as though the hole were rolling. As a multidimensional thing, or lack of thing, her brain could only process it as a 3-dimensional object…it was a boulder of non-existence rolling and growing, tearing up the earth as it went. She watched with horror as the rift veered suddenly to the side, altering its course to rip right through the grass where Applejack had begun to run. Applejack was easily the fastest earth pony she had ever seen. The rift overtook her as though she were standing still. There was another loud rushing sound and a snap. Twilight stood, blinking in the meadow. There was a rustle as all the airborne dirt fell to the grass at once, and then silence. "AJ? Applejack?" she cried out. Her voice was rough from the dirt she'd inhaled, and muted by remorse. The gouge in the earth had broadened and deepened as it went, reaching its largest just past the place Applejack had been standing. Two strides further, and it diminished to nothing, marking the place where the rift had winked out of existence. If Applejack had gotten two strides further, she would still have been in Ponyville. Applejack's eyes were open, but she had the distinct impression of not seeing anything. She was looking at something, but it seemed unreal, and didn't make any sense. Slowly her thought returned to her. Then she realized she was resting nearly upside-down, her head on the pavement, and her body leaning upward against a wall. "Get a job, rummy!" a crass voice yelled at her, and moved on. "Yep. This is Manehattan, all right," she said aloud. Applejack sighed. She rolled over onto the ground, stood up, and shook herself out. She looked around. It was grimier than she remembered it from when she'd been there as a filly. It smelled different, too—it was an unfamiliar smell she couldn't place. "Heck if she didn't get me all the way to Manehattan!" Applejack marveled, and then chuckled. Ponyville was a long way off; while she was in town, she might as well look up Aunt and Uncle Orange, she figured. She stopped dead in her tracks when she got closer to the street, and noticed that none of the carriages rushing past were being drawn by horses. They weren't all driven by unicorns, either, as she would have guessed—pegasi and earth ponies were driving them as well as unicorns. "Out of the way, rube!" said a gruff voice as somepony jostled her on the sidewalk. Applejack turned, her simple motion pushing back against the pony that had bumped into her. She wasn't a particularly large pony, but years of hard work and apple-bucking had left her solid and athletic—exceptionally athletic even for an earth pony. "Eh-xcuse me?" she said, narrowing her eyes. The other pony had stumbled from being pushed aside as she turned. He winced a little from her baleful glance, and mumbled "Uh…excuse me," before rushing off. He looked consciously away from her so as to avoid her gaze, hiding his face from her as he melted back into the crowd of ponies moving up and down the sidewalk. Scanning the sidewalk, Applejack had never seen so many ponies with little goatee beards before. Must be some strange Manehattan fashion, she supposed. She spied a familiar form—further down the sidewalk, a purple unicorn with a familiar gait. "Twilight! Twilight!" she called out, making her way through the crowd. It was Twilight's mane alright…a little tousled. The trip through the rift must've roughed her up a bit, too. Applejack trotted up to her. "Twilight…so the rift got you too, huh?" she asked boisterously, touching the pony on the shoulder. The unicorn turned. It was Twilight, alright. Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Night," she corrected curtly. She looked Applejack up and down. "Night Comet…but friends just call me 'Night.'" "What the hay, Twilight? You fall on your head?" Applejack asked, confused. "I think you have me confused with somepony else, Sensible Shoes." "Sensi—what's wrong with my shoes?" "Nothing," Night said, her mouth twisting. She sputtered into laughter. "Twi, quit fooling around—" Just then there was a break in the crowd, and Applejack took in Night's full form. On her flank was a pale purple shooting star, against the darker purple of her coat. Applejack's mouth dropped open. "S-sorry," she stuttered. Night was the very vision of Twilight Sparkle…she even sounded like Twilight. "I guess I do have you confused with somepony else." "Very confused, I'd say." Applejack didn't quite like Night's tone…it was as tart as Twilight's could be, at times. Applejack was so flummoxed at being confronted by this doppelganger that she took no lasting notice. Manehattan was as big as cities got, Applejack thought. It wouldn't be surprising to run into somepony who looked just like somepony she knew. With the same coat. And the same mane. And the same voice. "So, Sensible Shoes, new in town?" "Yeah…no…sorta," Applejack replied. "I used to live here a long time ago…I'm just kinda back for a visit." "Been gone a while," Night observed dryly. Night looked Applejack up and down, appraising her. There was a silence. Night broke it by observing, "You look pretty fast, though…wanna race?" Race? Applejack wondered. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around this pony somehow not being Twilight Sparkle. "I know where there'll be some clear sidewalk," Night called over her shoulder, leading the way. Uneasily, Applejack followed. The way the purple unicorn's muscles rippled beneath her coat suggested a filly more athletic than Twilight was…maybe even as athletic as Rainbow Dash. She was about to say, "No teleporting," but as she watched the unicorn's confident gait, she doubted the unicorn would have had to resort to any such measure to win a race. Applejack was a match for Rainbow Dash…she didn't doubt she could be a match for a delusional Twilight Sparkle, or Night, or whoever this unicorn actually was. They walked along. Applejack was aware of the loud 'clack!' of her steel-shod hooves on the pavement. She was even a little aware of her own accent…not embarrassed, just aware, in a way she hadn't been since she was a young filly taking voice lessons from her Aunt Orange. "What the hay's wrong with my shoes?" she grumbled. They rounded a corner, revealing a block with nopony on it. "Race you to the far corner!" Night called out. She crouched down, waiting for Applejack to take a starting stance. "You're on!" Night coiled and launched herself forward, taking a long, graceful leap. She landed, stuck it, and stood there looking over her shoulder at Applejack. Applejack started a moment later, launching herself shortly after Night did. Only, it didn't work that way. Her feet slid out from under her. She'd pushed too hard, and her steel shoes skittered across the pavement, finding no hold. The wind was forced out of her as her chest met the pavement. Night burst out laughing, but, to her credit, did choke it down to a sputtering giggle after her first outburst. Applejack growled, gritting her teeth. She picked herself up in a smooth movement, using the slipperiness of her shoes on the pavement to push herself up by simply drawing her legs together. Nice move! Night thought to herself, impressed. She made a mental note to herself to try and practice the trick sometime. "Okay…ready?" Night said, once she'd finally overcome her laughter. She took her stance, and Applejack followed suit. They launched off again, this time Applejack taking care to apply her power to the pavement sparingly. She got two strides up the sidewalk, and instinctively began to dig. Night was still standing at their "starting" line, having just hunched down and only stood up when Applejack took off. Applejack's shoes were throwing off sparks as they ground against the pavement. She inched forward, actually losing momentum. There was a great deal of movement and noise, however. Night's mirth seemed to increase with Applejack's rage. Applejack slowed to a trot, building speed even more gradually and carefully. Then she fell. She fell again…and again. Grinding her teeth with fury, she could see nothing but the far end of the block, focused with a singular desire to get there…faster than Night. Night just stood there, watching the orange earth pony's progress up the block. When Applejack had made it two thirds of the way, and actually began to find her pavement legs, Night took off like a shot. From a perfect launch, she blazed past Applejack…and came to a quick dead halt just short of the corner. Applejack's teeth were creaking from her grinding of them. Her nostrils were flaring, her eyes were wide, glazed, and bloodshot. She'd built up a head of steam by the end of the block. Night's mane was ruffled by the breeze of Applejack jetting past her. "Ha!" said Applejack triumphantly, overtaking the cocky unicorn. Applejack's teeth chattered as her hooves skittered across the uneven pavement, still casting sparks. Her shoes weren't any grippier for stopping than they were for starting. She wasn't slowing down much, and she was rapidly running out of sidewalk. She did a faceplant into a light post, which rang like a discordant piano. The force of her impact shook the powerlines. Night trotted over, bending down. With a little too much mirth in her voice, she said, "You win, Sensible Shoes." Applejack mumbled into the base of the lamp post. "Uncle." Applejack's forehead was throbbing, and her hat misshapen from her meeting with the lamp post. She'd left a dent in the post, too…if somepony looked closely, her likeness could nearly be seen. Despite her amusement, Night felt a little sheepish about the trick she'd played on the strange earth pony, and treated her to a hearty dinner. "So, you have anyplace to stay in town?" Night asked, after wolfing down three platefuls of grass and daisies in a very un-Twilight-like manner. "I've got some relatives…but I'm not sure where they live." "Who are they? Maybe I know 'em." "The Oranges?" "Oh, the Oranges!" Night exclaimed. "You know them?" "Everypony knows the Oranges!" Night exclaimed. "Especially Suave Orange. I've even met him a couple of times—his kid sister, Blossom Orange, is a good friend of mine. They just moved recently, though, and I haven't seen their new place yet. Dust Cloud would know where she lived." Blossom Orange? Thought Applejack. Something about the name made it stick in her mind. "Could we go find this Dust Cloud? It's getting late, and I'm gonna need a place to stay…." "No problem! Even if she doesn't know where they are, I bet you could stay in Dusty's workshop…it's huge." After a moment's thought, Night added, "If she doesn't keep you awake by working on her machinery all night, that is…." The sky began to darken. "That's funny…it doesn't feel like rain…." Applejack observed. "Rain?" Night repeated. "Who said anything about rain?" "The sky's getting dark." "Uh, the sun's setting?" Night said. It'd been shortly after noon when Applejack had witnessed Twilight's dimensional-rift experiment…it couldn't be sunset already. Applejack stopped in her tracks. She hadn't been out cold, she didn't think—just stunned by her passage through the rift. She couldn't have been stunned for more than a few minutes. It was too early for sunset. Night turned around. "Really?" Applejack asked. "Really what?" "The sun's setting?" Night was going to make a flip remark…but the confusion on Applejack's face stopped her. "Uh, yeah," she pronounced instead, inflecting it with slightly more than two syllables. The look on Applejack's face spooked Night a little. "We'd better get you to Dusty's," Night said, thinking to herself, maybe Dusty can help this strange disoriented pony. "Hello-ooo!" sang a voice behind them. "Hey, Night! Hey, Blo—oh, who's your friend?" Applejack turned and gave a start. A soot-black unicorn was trotting up to them; in the dimming light, the flat, dark quality of her coloring made her appearance look like an absence of light—like a hole or a void of some sort was advancing on them. The impression was enough to trigger Applejack's memory of the rift tearing unstoppably toward her; she felt a queasy feeling in her belly. Applejack swallowed, relieved to realize that it was just a unicorn. "Hey, Anthracite—this is Applejack! She's new in town!" Night called out easily. "Pleased to meet you!" the black unicorn called out, but oddly, stopped a few strides short of them instead of advancing to meet them. A moment later, Applejack saw why—as she shook herself out, the blackness of her coat turned out to be dust. A black, sooty cloud rose from her coat, wafting silently away. Beneath the dust, her coat had a much lighter color. Her hard hat clattered to the ground, emitting a poof of black dust when it hit, as she shook herself again. A black steel lunchbox clattered to the sidewalk beside her helmet. Coiled under that hat, and consequently free of the dust, was a lustrous mane of a deep, gem-like purple hue. It was bound by a short length of ribbon, not unlike the way Applejack wore her own hair. The line on her forehead that had been protected by the helmet showed her coat to be a gleaming white. "Rarity?" Applejack gasped in amazement. "What's rare?" asked the unicorn offhoofedly, as she dropped to the pavement and began to roll and wiggle around, trying to wipe some more of the dust out of her coat. She left some dark smears in the pavement, but her coat was still a dingy gray. She'd shed enough of the dust to reveal at least the outline of her cutie mark, which appeared to be three black rocks. Her own shoes flashed in the waning light, the steel polished bright by many long hours walking on rock. She nuzzled the ground, slowly gyrating against it to scratch herself here and there. Anthracite giggled, now on her back with all four hooves in the air. "Hey, I love your shoes!" she said almost giddily, smiling at Applejack. "They're a lot less worn out than mine!" The dirty unicorn sounded exactly like Rarity…and her mane was too fine and glossy to be anypony else's. But Rarity could never be so pleased to be rolling around on the ground, much less with black dust all through her coat. Heck, she'd even come through her ordeal of being imprisoned underground by the diamond dogs without getting her coat soiled. Anthracite jumped up, having rid herself of as much of the black dust as she was likely to. When she closed the distance between them, Applejack got a whiff of the strange smell she'd been encountering all over Manehattan. "Are you here to work in the mines?" Anthracite asked pleasantly. Her horn glowed beneath its covering of dust, distracting Applejack's attention momentarily by the effect it gave to the light. Anthracite's hard hat was surrounded by a glow and lifted up, coming back to rest on her head. "The mines?" Applejack repeated, and then shook her head briskly. "No…I'm, uh…here to visit family." "Ah…welcome to Manehattan, then!" Anthracite exclaimed. "You work in the mines back home?" "Mines? Why would I work in mines?" asked Applejack, perplexed. "You look like you could pull a mean wagon full of ore…we always need good strong ponies in the mines," Anthracite observed affably. "And your shoes! You look like somepony who spends a lot of time walking over rocks." "Well, a little, I guess…I work on the family farm." A silence ensued. The wheels of Applejack's mind were turning. A unicorn who looked exactly like Twilight Sparkle, but wasn't, and enjoyed running—and was good at running. Not to disparage Twilight, but nopony would mistake her for an athlete…and this Night pony was fast. Now, a unicorn who had Rarity's exquisite mane, rich voice…and, somewhere under all that dust, a white coat, who wasn't Rarity, and didn't mind being dirty. Anthracite's coat was ruffled from her roll on the pavement…hanks of it stood up in disarray, rising this way and that. She seemed gleefully oblivious of her appearance. "Uh…what do you mine for?" Applejack asked, finally. "Coal," she said. It struck Anthracite as kind of a stupid question—she'd arrived in her mining hat, covered in coal dust—but she wasn't going to say anything unkind to this new pony. Applejack's eyes crossed in confusion for a moment, but righted themselves. "We were on our way to Dusty's," Night chimed in brusquely. "Oh, Dusty's!" Anthracite exclaimed. "I have to go see her myself…some issues with the mining equipment, and whatnot." As they turned to go, Applejack leaned toward Anthracite, asking quietly a question she suspected might sound stupid, and didn't want Night to hear. "Rar—An—anthr'cite? What do you do with coal?" "Why, you burn it, dear," she smiled. "It burns a lot hotter than wood…the fires of industry can't burn on wood alone!" After they'd gone up the sidewalk a ways, Anthracite added, "and call me Ant! It's a lot easier than 'Anthracite'…and I spend a lot of time underground, just like a happy little worker ant." The wagons that were whizzing up and down the street were giving off smoke and soot. That was the smell of the place, it came to Applejack suddenly—the smell she hadn't been able to place—the sulphurous smell of coal burning everywhere. This wasn't the Manehattan she knew. They turned down an innocuous-looking side street. An immense building took up most of the block. Applejack was startled when they stopped beneath its great doors. "In here?" Applejack asked, in amazement. Applejack looked up, craning her neck. The pair of doors was immense…far taller than would be required to admit the largest barn in Sweet Apple Acres. The doors were so large, there was a normal-sized door set in the foot of one of them. Rarity—Rarity's double, Anthracite, rather—knocked loudly twice on the door with her hoof, and without waiting for an answer, went inside. "Hey, chief!" Ant called out. Coming through the door, Applejack emerged into a crowded workshop. The acrid smells of coal, tar, and oils assaulted her nose. There were wheels and gears everywhere—easily enough to build at least half a dozen flour mills. Examining one assemblage, Applejack jumped when she realized it was exactly like one of the carts in the street, only huge. It was so huge, in fact, that she'd almost overlooked it entirely, seeing only the lower parts of the wheels—immense wood-spoked wheels, with bands of steel binding their outer perimeters. The parts were so large and distant from one another she hadn't noticed them to be parts of a whole; her initial impression had been that they were just odd structural members of the building. It was parked right in front of the doors—poised, obviously, to be driven out when the need arose. Looking up she saw two spherical boilers made out of shiny brass, each large enough to house a dozen ponies inside. Between the two and set back just a little was a tall, thick smokestack that gave vent to the fires that would heat both boilers. The top of the immense vehicle seemed outfitted like a sailing ship, with several decks. It even had a couple of masts that were rigged for sails. "Hey, guys!" called a scratchy voice from up above, startling Applejack again as she was just beginning to recover from the jolt of perceiving the towering vehicle. The sepia-colored figure swooped down gracefully from the top of the vehicle, alighting in front of them. "Blossom Orange! What are you doing dressed like that?" the pegasus exclaimed. "Is it the night of the masquerade ball already? My sweet Luna…have I forgotten it again?" Applejack's mouth hung open. The pegasus was the very vision of Rainbow Dash—only with a light-brown coat instead of blue, and instead of her rainbow-colored hair was a mane and tail bearing stripes of different shades of brown. She was wearing a canvas apron, pockets filled with tools, most of which Applejack couldn't even describe. There was a pair of goggles hanging around her neck, another pair atop her head, and spectacles resting on her nose. Her mane was better kept than Rainbow's was…but only slightly. Instead of Dash's rainbow-lightning-bold-cloud cutie mark, this pegasus had only a dingy brown cloud. The sepia-colored pegasus consulted three timepieces that were strapped to her left foreleg. "Wait a minute," she observed. "The ball's not until March!" She looked at Applejack quizzically. Blossom Orange? Applejack wondered. Apple Bloom? Applejack shook her head. Maybe Twilight's experiment had slammed her in the head somehow, and she was experiencing some sort of hallucination. The pegasus stepped forward, looking at Applejack curiously. "You're not Blossom Orange," she pronounced. Yet, she still came closer, gazing deeply into Applejack's eyes. Applejack saw a flash of Rainbow Dash's intensity deep within this pegasus' eyes, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "Yet…you are Blossom Orange," the brown Rainbow Dash said quietly—too quietly for anypony to hear besides Applejack. The confusion on the pegasus' face echoed the profound confusion and disorientation Applejack was feeling about the whole situation. "This is Applejack," Night said abruptly, having taken no notice of the moment that seemed to be happening between Dust Cloud and Applejack. "Maybe you can help her." "Oh…hello, everypony," the pegasus who apparently was Dust Cloud said, her awareness of the whole group restored. "Applejack…of course…pleased to meet you," Dust Cloud said rather properly. "A pleasure, I'm sure," replied Applejack, automatically. Her accent seemed to her to hang in the air like molasses…yet, "a pleasure, I'm sure?" Why in Equestria would she ever say such a thing? The strangeness of this place must be getting to her…. But, Apple Bloom? Applejack thought. What was going on between Apple Bloom and Rainbow Dash in this weird world she'd been tossed into? Applejack's temples began to throb, and the room swayed a little. "Whoah there, Sensible Shoes!" Night said. Applejack's head jerked up. She was up against Night, shoulder-to-flank; apparently, she'd begun to fall over, and Night had darted up beside her, propping Applejack's body up with her own. "Thanks, Twi," Applejack murmured. "I mean, uh, Night." Night's brow was furrowed with concern. Dust Cloud and Anthracite looked worried, too. "You look like you could use a little rest," Dust Cloud said slowly. "I guess…uh…I am a little tuckered out," Applejack admitted hesitantly. "I'm fine, though!" She restored her weight to her own hooves, and shook herself briefly. "Still, it's getting late," Ant noted. Night reminded her, "You wanted to get to the Oranges for a visit, right?" "Oh, you know the Oranges?" Dust Cloud asked brightly. Then her face dimmed somewhat in disappointment. "It's far too late to bring you to the Oranges," she said with a little regret. "I have a very comfortable couch in my study—we can call on the Oranges tomorrow." "Besides," she whispered gravely to Ant and Night, "I'm not sure she could make it all the way to the Oranges." "I'm just fine!" Applejack insisted with a stomp of her hoof. Even her sudden flash of anger had made her dizzy again, though. As proud as she was, and as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she suddenly felt unsure she could walk any great distance. "But I don't want to be goin' around botherin' folks late at night…" she added, a little too hastily for her own satisfaction. "Are you sure it's okay, R—er, Dust Cloud? "No problem at all," Dust Cloud assured her, with some relief in her voice. Dust Cloud led Applejack to her study, with the other two ponies in tow. Applejack's eyelids were heavy, and she didn't form much of an impression of Dust Cloud's office beyond that it was as cluttered as Twilight's library on a bad day, and smelled even more heavily of books than Twilight's abode. "I guess I am plum tuckered out," Applejack admitted quietly to herself as she reclined on the couch. The door closed, leaving her in the comforting embrace of darkness. Before the voices on the other side of the door had faded away into the distance, she'd begun to snore.