05 - Tesseract Party
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Contraptionology!
by Jeffrey C. Wells
(with gratitude to the pre-reading powers of Akela Stronghoof and S.R. Foxley)
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Part Five: Tesseract Party
It started out as a real nice party. Real nice.
For starters, it's amazing how fast we ponies can throw together a shindig if we put our minds to it. Apple Bloom and Granny and me started in on a real humdinger of a baking bee, and when those two were good and at it, I worked up load after load of invitations with some much-needed assistance from Rarity on the pen; I ain't got a real steady mouth when it comes to writing things, and it my problems weren't helped none by a seriously rattling apple necklace; for whatever reason, it was deciding to act up again. Our invites were then ferried to every corner of town by good old Rainbow Dash. Flutters and Dr. Pie, who I was gonna go right on calling 'Pinkie', handled the decorating with that party cannon thing of hers. Pinkie seemed real nervous whenever she was messing with it this time, not like usual, and kept obviously not saying stuff – I didn't understand nor care, so long as the barn got decorated. And lo, it did, and it was beautiful, all dressed up in white and pink crepe, with little rows of firefly lights running behind. Twilight and Spike weren't there to lend a hoof, seeing as they were busy double and triple checking the lizard situation, but that was all right, because it made it feel more like old times, just the five of us girls again, no Canterlot wizards or dragons or nothing.
Decorating done, Pinkie threw her attention at the punch bowl, a huge fizzy glass cauldron of lemonade, ginger beer and liquor topped off with fresh-sliced lemons from the Professor's supply; and Flutters – with some special goading from that bunny rabbit of hers – used her contacts in the town music scene to organize a proper fiddle-and-jug band, all the usual suspects on their usual instruments. Yes, Ma'am, it was right flabbergasting how quick we pulled things together. We fixed that party up like a well-oiled machine.
(Little side note for y'all: I'm told that using that particular expression is something called "ironic", given what's to come. I ain't gonna go on the record one way or the other, 'cause I don't exactly understand what "ironic" means, unless it's "kind of funny but not".)
Anyhoo, so that was that. Even before the time we wrote on the invites, we had Johnny-come-earlies trickling in, and by the time the dusk began to fall and the doors officially opened, there was ponies clean lining up outside. We was all having a great time. Everypony loved getting a look at the real honest-to-golly Elements of Harmony around all our necks (those folks we hadn't already blasted with 'em previously for Nightmare infection, of course) and the Professor, arriving with a whole mess of both pomp and circumstances and accompanied by his new assistant Derpy-eyes, was a big hit with the young folks. Twi and Spike were still no-shows, which still didn't concern me. You know her. Probably just got distracted, nose wedged in a book, How To Come To A Party On Time, by, uh, Dustjacket McOldpony or something.
Twenty minutes in, right in the middle of what Rarity'd call "fashionably late" territory, the Pepper Clan showed, bending the whole barn around them with sheer presence. Led by their tiny green-and-gray patriarch, a piddle-and-vinegar old stallion what went by the name of Don Jalapeño, they claimed a chunk of territory over by the hayloft and dared all comers to be as suave and clean and upright as them. Pepper Family hails from the Equestrian province of Castalle, where they hold races against bulls right down the middle of the dang street and put funny wiggles over their letter "n"'s to make 'em sound like "nyuh", which is just a couple of the crazy foreign-things they get up to. For all that, they were perfectly charming despite not joining in on the punch – teetotalers all, they were – and some of the young'uns did start mingling with the rest of us worldly ponies after a time. Almost without thinking about it, I found myself looking over their ranks for Bell Pepper, and oh, lawks, there he was, head and neck taller than his closest sibling and quick, Apple Bloom, how's my mane look? All straight?
"For the fifth time, big sis, it's fine! Why you get so silly any time them Pepper boys show up anywhere?"
"Just you wait a couple years, A.B.," I said, smiling and giving her hair-bow a little tug. "You'll start looking at little Chipotle there in a whole new light."
"Yecch," replied Apple Bloom. "Colts are gross."
So yes. Things were right smooth, for a time. If there was a crisis at first, it was Pinkie Pie. After putting her heart and soul into making this quadruple—
"Tesseract!" corrected Pinkie, somehow managing to work her way into my narrator passage in doing so, which SHE OUGHT NOT BE DOING, tesseract party, thanks, Pinkie. After putting her heart and soul into making this tesseract party happen, she was weirdly sad about the whole business. Flutters and I questioned her about it, and she revealed that she was sad because one of the guests of honor, Iggy the Salamander, couldn't even be present for his own party, on account of him being a danger to himself and others (but mostly others). Flutters suggested we save some of the more tepid party food, the things with cream cheese on them, maybe, and hold a second party for him all his own after this one wrapped up, and this got Pinkie so excited she kicked the square dance off early, which suited me fine. Anything for an excuse to get a little closer to Bell. Why yes, sir, I am brushing up against your powerfully-muscled cutie-marked hindquarters, but it's only because that gosh-darn square-dance caller told me to, don't you know?
Didn't quite work out that way – truth to tell, I ended up paired with Flutters most of the time, but the party was in full swing now and we were feeling the glow of a couple hundred or more ponies' worth of happy goodwill, and the feelings just bubbled up inside of me until I almost couldn't take it no more. For Pete's sake, even Rarity looked like she was starting to enjoy herself, and that filly don't enjoy anything! Pinkie eventually grabbed the microphone and started calling the square dance herself, which turned into kind of a logjam when she moved from square dancing to cube dancing (telling us to promenade up, a call that only Dash and the other pegasi among us could follow) and from then on in to an absolutely hilarious disaster when she got to the next step, the promised hypercube dance. To this day, I am unable to figure out how a pony is supposed to "allemande kata" or "allemande ana". What in Equestria does that even mean? As a body might expect, the whole thing dissolved into chaos and Flutters and I eventually flung ourselves onto a pile of straw-bales over to one side, sweating and gasping and laughing.
"This is a wonderful party, Applejack," said Fluttershy, shifting in the straw beside me, the light from the firefly-lamps glinting off her little pink butterfly necklace. "I wish Twilight were here. I wonder what's keeping her?"
"She was invited, same as everypony," I said. "If she cares more about them books of hers than attending my barnburner of a hootenanny, more power to her."
"I suppose," said Fluttershy, tapping the tips of her hooves together, even as I clapped my own hoof to my throat in response to my dang necklace shuddering again – these Element things don't react well to extended wearing. Fluttershy glanced over at me, looking like she was about to say something, but she didn't get a chance, 'cause at that very moment, my kid sister got ejected from the hypercube dance, achieved about six feet of air, and landed in a great cloud of loose straw between us.
"WHEE, DOGGIES!" Apple Bloom yelped. "I ain't had that much fun since me an' the Crusaders went frog-bothering!" She wrestled her hooves back under her against the straw. "I'm gonna get me some of that lemon punch!"
"Oh no you don't," I said, grinning and cuffing her on the shoulder. "We got plenty of apple juice for you little colts and fillies over on the snack table."
"But I want something fizzy!" Apple Bloom protested.
"The punch is for grown-ups, Apple Bloom," said Fluttershy. "Not for children."
Apple Bloom frowned. "Is Angel Bunny a grown-up bunny?"
"Well, yes," said Fluttershy. "But… punch is for grown-up ponies only. Not bunnies, no matter how grown-up they are."
"Y'might want to tell him that, then," said A.B., gesturing with one hoof across the room at the sight of Angel Bunny perched on the rim of the punch bowl, slurping out of one of them little cups. He looked at us, smacked his lips, and gave a dewclaws-up sign.
Fluttershy's eyes went wide. "Angel, no!" she squeaked, zipping away into the crowd.
"That critter," I remarked, "is something else."
"He is a very interesting rabbit," said a deep voice from nearby. "Quite intelligent."
"Oh, hey, Stranger Danger," I said, looking up at the Professor, a vision of starched white clothes and mussed-up hair against the party lights. "Where's your funny-eyed lightning assistant?"
"Scouring the buffet for baked goods, I imagine," he said. "I have released her for the moment. I shall have need of her soon, but not now."
"Well, all right then!" said A.B., patting a spot next to her. "Have a seat here on the straw, Professor!"
I nodded to my sis as the Professor worked out the best way to fold himself into a sitting position what with that gimpy back leg of his. "Yeah, so, about Angel," I continued. "That rabbit's dynamite, but I think Fluttershy'd fall apart without him, sometimes. He's bossy, and mean, and rude, but he can get Flutters up and out of that cottage when nopony else can. He makes her stand up for herself."
"So your friend is incomplete," said Stranger Danger, settling in, "but between the two of them, you think they make one whole pony."
"I guess I never thought about it that way," I said, frowning. "Yeah, I suppose."
"Fascinating," he said. "One of my great joys in life is watching how ponies and things work together. It is a discipline called 'Harmonic Studies', my first doctorate."
"I thought you was some kind of machine-making professor," I said. "What with being Pinkie Pie's teacher. And what with those gears on your rump." I nodded toward his flank.
"Aha," said the Professor, looking pleased with hisself. "Mechanical contraptionology is my second doctorate. But if you think about it, I am marked in such a way that both are appropriate. Yes, I build things with the gears, but also, gears work together in harmony to achieve goals. And the curious union of my Cutie Mark, my special talents and my doctoral degrees is itself also a construction of beautiful harmony."
"Ain't that something," I said. "Well, my talent is buckin' apples, pretty much."
Stranger Danger blinked at me. "But you are so much more than that, yes? You are obviously good at putting delicious party food together."
"She sure is!" said Apple Bloom. "And she's the best rodeo pony in Ponyville!"
"Indeed?" said the Professor. "Many talents, then. And this is saying nothing of your Element of Harmony, your very special power."
"So you know all about the Elements, then," I said.
"Of course," said the Professor. "I have heard many tales of the adventures of my beloved former student and her friends. You are the one called 'Applejack', bearer of the Element of Honesty."
"Yessir," I said. "Many-time hero of Equestria, that's me."
"That is good," said the Professor.
I smiled.
"But not very good," he finished.
I frowned.
Apple Bloom sat up and looked over at the Professor. "What do you mean, 'not very good'? My big sis is one of the best ponies there is!"
"I mean no disrespect, small yellow thing with bow," said Stranger Danger. "I do not mean that she herself is or is not good. I simply am saying…" he shrugged. "It is very messy. You have apples on your flank, yet your special talent is harvesting apples, yes, but also baking and/or rodeos. And your power is honesty. Where is the union in these things? Where, indeed, is the harmony?" Stranger Danger reached over and tapped at the orange-colored, apple-shaped stone in my necklace, and it struck me as he did so how dull and unimpressive the ol' jewel was looking lately. "You are like this necklace, Applejack. You are an apple who is orange-colored. Who ever heard of such a thing? How can a pony be truly happy when she tries to be so many different things at once?"
Somewhere nearby, the jug-band broke into a peaceful country waltz. I stared up at the firefly lights for a time, letting the music wash me down.
"I have been unhappy lately," I finally admitted, my voice sounding real small in my ears. "It's like I used to know where I stood around these parts. I used to know who I was, hear? But lately, I just can't figure it out. It's like the town just keeps changing under my hooves, and the things I was proud of doing, of being, just don't seem to matter much anymore."
"Ach," said the Professor. "This. Exactly this. You need something to link all the parts of yourself together. So you feel whole again."
"Is that it?" I said, propping myself up on one elbow. "Is that what's wrong with me?"
The Professor gave a tiny, hair-thin smile. "It is, in my learned opinion, very possible."
"How?" I said, leaning closer to him. "Please. Tell me how I do what you just said."
"I will tell you," said Stranger Danger, thrusting one hoof into the air. "You must use… SCIENCE!"
And then he waited.
"Himmel," he said. "Excuse." He got up from the straw, brushed himself off, limped over in the direction of the buffet, and then returned, dragging a crumb-covered Derpy – still hovering on her thundercloud – behind him.
"Ahem," said the Professor. "SCIENCE!" He tossed a coin at Derpy, and she bounced on the cloud a little, making some thunder and lightning. "Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome!" said Derpy, as she flitted back off to the buffet.
"No, no, no," I said, rolling over in the straw. "I can't, Professor. I ain't good with science. Every time I start thinking of new science-y ways to do stuff, it feels like there's wheels in my head that are just running way too hot and I have to shut them down before I wreck something."
"Hm," said the Professor. "Wheels. That is how I think. Using pictures of wheels, I mean. But I am good with machines. You are more… a natural scientist. You grow apples on your farm, which is a special science called 'pomology'. You bake. You make cider. Perhaps you are a child of chemistry, not machines."
"Beg pardon?"
"I have something for you," said Stranger Danger, grabbing a cup from a passing unicorn who was circulating around the room with glasses of the lemonade punch. He handed it to me. It looked fizzy and yellow and syrupy, and whichever pony had the ladle for this particular glass had actually snagged one of the floating lemon slices for it. "It is a new way of thinking about things," continued the Professor. "A new metaphor. From here on in, when you would think about wheels, think about this glass of punch instead. Think of bubbles, Applejack."
I frowned into my punch. "I ain't getting it," I said.
"Drink," encouraged the Professor. "Maybe then you will feel it."
I took a sip of the punch, first one I'd had that evening. It was icy-cold, and the shock of it to my gullet sent a needle of pain into my head. It tasted like snow, and like sour candy, and it cut through the scuz that'd been building up in the back of my throat like a sickle. I blinked a couple times, and heavens help me, I started kinda seeing what the Professor was talking about.
"Bubbles," I said, dreamily.
"You okay there, sis?" said A.B., looking up at me. "Is it good punch?"
"Yes, and yes, little one," said the Professor, smiling. "Now. Applejack. Tell me about… alcohol."
"It gets you funny in the head," I began. The fizz began rising in me, both in my stomach and in the pictures I stored in my mind. "It modifies certain biophysical processes in the brain, creatin' a sense of mild euphoria in smaller doses."
"Excellent. And how is it made?"
"Fermentation. Breaking down sugars using yeast enzymes." I shook my head. "This is all cider-making 101, Professor. This ain't chemistry."
"Ah, but that is the beauty of it! It is chemistry! And what if you want something a bit harder than cider?"
"Distillation," I said. "Due to different boiling points, maintaining a liquid at a certain temperature will cause its more volatile components, such as alcohol, to pass into vapor phase, whereupon you can collect 'em with a condenser. But the process isn't perfect, and you're gonna require multiple distillations if you want to really up the alcohol content of the resulting mixture."
"Good. So I suppose if you just keep on distilling and distilling, you will eventually get pure alcohol, correct?"
"NO!" I shouted, causing some of the other party guests to look over at me funny. I didn't care. Their opinions didn't matter, the little peons. Nothing mattered but the ideas that were tearing around my head, ideas in the shape of little yellow bubbles. "It don't work that way, Professor! Extreme concentration in an alcohol solution skews its volatility patterns all to Tartarus and back! You can try and try, but you ain't never gonna get above 97% pure alcohol with simple distilling, not even if you do it an infinite number of times!"
"I see," said the Professor, mildly. "And what does that make you want to do?"
"I'll tell you what that makes me want to do!" I said, leaping to my hooves on top of my straw bale. "It makes me want to find a way to make my old still concentrate something higher than 97% pure alcohol!"
"Excellent," said the Professor. "So you will stop when you have achieved one hundred percent purity level, Miss Applejack?"
"Heck no!" I roared, leaping off my bale. "I ain't gonna quit until I get me somethin' that's at least a hundred five or maybe ten percent pure alcohol! Hundred fifteen, maybe!"
"I… don't think that's possible," said one of the ponies in my growing audience.
"I don't give the butt end of a rat what ain't or ain't not possible, missy!" I snarled. "I got science now, and that means there ain't nothing beyond my grasp! I can throw the whole gol-durn world into the oven and then bake it to whatever consistency I desire!"
"Whatever," said my heckler, grabbing a cup of punch and walking away, which didn't bother me none. I stood there, swaying back and forth and grinning like a dope, letting wave after wave of ice-cold bubbles toss my brain around.
Apple Bloom followed me off the straw pile. "Uh… sis?" she said. "You all right?"
I didn't respond. Some questions are too irrelevant to answer.
"Very, very good," said Stranger Danger, picking up my discarded glass of punch. "Last question, and most important. Can you distill for me, from your beloved apples, a drink of pure Honesty?"
"You bet," I said, the chemical equations already bubbling into crystalline form in my mind. "I think I know just how I might do something like that."
"Boom!" said the Professor, clapping his hooves together. "And there you have it. One step closer to inner harmony. You, Applejack, will use science in the way I have just described to you. You will use it to link apples… to honesty. Your Cutie Mark to your power."
"Yes," I said. "Yes. It all makes sense now!" I rushed at the Professor and gave him a neck-hug. "Thanks so awfully much, Stranger Danger! This here's gonna change everything!"
"Exactly," said the Professor, "what I am counting on."
I giggled like a school-filly. "Heck," I said. "This is the best I felt in years! I feel like I could do anything I got a mind to! I feel like… I could even go over and talk to Bell Pepper right now!"
"Enjoy!" said Professor Danger, raising the punch glass to me. "Have fun!"
I waved one last time at the Professor and my confused-looking kid sister, then charged off across the barn, all staggering and half-cocked but with a beautiful sense of purpose.
On my way over to the Pepper family, I found Pinkie Pie. I reared up, put my hooves on her shoulders, and stared her in the face.
"Pinkie," I said, my eyes wide and twitching, "that is some fine punch you cooked up."
"Thanks!" said Pinkie, a little weevil of confusion entering her voice. "I'm glad to hear you say that, because I thought it tasted a little too lemony. What's wrong with your Element necklace, Applejack? Did you spill tomato sauce on it?"
I looked down at the formerly-orange stone, which had turned sort of a dark topaz color. "Oh, this thing has been giving me guff all night," I said. "We'll send them all back with Twilight when the party's over. Give 'em a rest. Fix 'em right up."
"Okay, that's another thing," said Pinkie. "Where is Twilight? I haven't seen her all evening!"
"She'll come around eventually," I said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta see a horse about a horse. But not in the 'going to the outhouse' sense."
"I… don't understand," said Pinkie.
"Ain't that a switch!" I said, gleefully, pointing my hoof right in her face. "Me, confusing you for a change! A ha! A ha ha ha!"
"Applejack, have you had too much to drink?"
"Nope!" I said, proudly. "But I have had too much to dream! AND IT'S STILL NOT ENOUGH!" I spun away from her, wheeled off across the room, and left her in my dust. "See y'all later, Doctor Pie!" I yelled back at her over my shoulder, but if Pinkie had anything to say in response, I didn't stick around to hear it.
Good night. Real good night.
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Ah, SCIENCE! in action is a wonderful thing to behold, is it not?
Actually, Dustjacket McOldpony is in charge of the Preservation and Restoration department of the Canterlot Royal Archives. He hasn't written anything other than a few professional papers.
Also, I think I can see where this is going, but I'm not quite sure how Prof. Danger fits in...
Corrupting the Elements with the power of SCIENCE! It's definitely a novel approach. :)
Aha... cunning evil is afoot... er... ahoof!
As an evil mad scientist myself, I can clearly see that Doctor Danger plans Equestrian domination!
Interested to see where this goes. Could Bell Pepper be THE MEXICAN APPLE THIEF?!
474260
Close, but not quite!
Oh. Crap. This... does not look good to be honest.
Man, I cannot fully express how much I adore this story and the way you tell it. It tickles me in all the right places without setting off my "OH COME ON!" alarms. Although I'm pretty forgiving with fics to begin with, they don't often make me laugh out loud. Smirk, sure, but actually laugh? Nah. This chapter managed to buck that trend in multiple places though, and I can't wait to see more.
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GUYS. GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS. It gets even better.
483387
My mind's been blown with amusement so far, so I'd be disappointed if he couldn't keep it up.
I would hope so.
483407
Well, Jeff sent me the next, like, bajillion chapters two weeks ago, and I can guarantee they get even funnier.
483431
Sweet.
483431 Bajillion chapters? :C
*sighs and gets more IV nutrient and fluid bags and 10,000 mg caffeine tablets* Damn you fic writers... damn you all... how dare you write all this awesome stuff when I have so much work to do. The only way to make time is cut out eating, drinking, and sleeping!
484922
Well, not a bajillion. More like a few.
485542 TOOLATEIJUSTDOWNEDTHEENTIREBOTTLEOFCAFFEINETABLETSANDNOWMYPULSEISOVER9000BEATSPERSECONDANDOHMYGODI'MGONNADIE... (explodes with 500 megatons of force, completely destroying New Jersey)
485542 and 485944
Ah, the first casualty of my fanfic. I can only assume there will be more.
488562
I will do my best to make that happen :evillaugh:
488562 Aaaaaactually, in addition to me being dead, the blast killed about 14 million people in the NJ, Philly, NYC area! So you've inadvertantly become one of the most evil ponies in all of history! Yay!
Oh, and as for why I'm still here after blowing up in a thermonuclear explosion... I got better.
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It's funny because Applejack does not know this obvious fact about literature.
474950 but the papers he did write were very well received by his colleagues and many still seek him out for advice. *giggles* Sorry I couldn't resist.
pictures.mastermarf.com/blog/2009/090527-science.png
Pic related:
scranton.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/rsz/mlfw1375_small.jpg
I WANT MY OWN DERPY TO MAKE LIGHTNING WHILE I SAY MAD THINGS!!!
Please let me know if you ever put together a dramatic reading of this. I'd give a leg to voice Dr. Danger.
Oh God, Applejack's a spark.
488562. Yeah. Like me, you incredibly talented jerk!
488562. Yeah. Like me, you incredibly talented jerk!
488562. Yeah. Like me, you incredibly talented jerk!
... aaaand I think we're done here. I could get around the whole "The Nightmare is possessing anyone with a pulse" bit. It led to a good number of laughs (heh, muffins lasting forever). I could even get past Pinkie suddenly being some kind of mechanical engineering genius because you don't really need a reason for anything Pinkie does. It can all be explained away as "It's Pinkie."
But, a random stranger and a drink that magically makes everyone who drinks it into a freaky combination of Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking on mental steroids? No. Just... no.
Let's not even get into AJ's "logic" (or lack thereof) in her "Science Project" next chapter or so. It's up there with the big, steaming dump that Stephanie Meyer took on the Theory of Genetics in Breaking Dawn. (Sorry, I was forced to read the Twilight books, to my immense displeasure.)
That Electric Prunes reference made my day.
I bet this is in her library, too.
I would expect AJ wouldn't be saying that until after the party.
2396778 it didn't magically make her a genius, Applejack already was. Shes an expert on all things apples, and pretty much everything you do with apples involves chemistry in some way. Doctor Danger got her drunk to get rid of her usual inhibitions about all things science, and made her realize that she'd been using it all along!
As one that often Square Dances, this made me chuckle a good bit. :3
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Glad to hear it!
Don Jalapeno... on a Stick?
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Hoping for a little more gravitas than that!