Motivation
“I can’t believe we lost!”
The four nerds gathered behind the stage were seething with disappointment and anger.
“I told you no one wanted to listen to a five minute Theremin solo!” Adam growled, pointing an accusatory finger at Bright Idea.
“Well how else is anyone supposed to hear me over your damn yaybahar!” Bright Idea snarled back.
“Shut it, both of you!” Scribble Dee shouted as she slammed her hurdy gurdy against the table with a bang.
“What does it even matter?” Wiz Kid sighed as he slumped into a chair propping his didgeridoo beside him, “The contest is over. We’re out.”
The silence left in the wake of that statement lasted several seconds as they all shared the same thought.
‘But I still want this!’
All the other bands to lose had faced the same fate and given up, and their own band “The Raging Fractals” had seen to one such case personally, but now in round two it was their turn to bow out.
Or was it?
Dee’s lip slowly quirked up into the beginnings of a smile.
“The rules say we’re not allowed to play against another band; we’ve been eliminated. But does anyone remember them saying that our instruments have been eliminated too?”
The other three shared a quizzical look as she went on;
“Think about it: Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon. Could he have gotten there without the rocket? Without the lander?”
Wiz Kid’s eyes widened as the thought struck home.
“Hey, you’re right! The scientists and engineers are the real winners! They built the machines that made it possible… even if they weren’t the ones driving them.”
“Or in this case, playing them…” Adam amended with a sly grin. “What do you have in mind, Dee?”
Dee returned his smirk as she pulled out a piece of paper and began sketching.
“Well, the four of us may not be the school’s best musicians, but before the end of this showdown I think we can count on some very capable musicians looking for a rematch, agreed?”
Bright snorted.
“No doubt, but we’d get in trouble if we hacked the school equipment for another band.”
Dee was still sketching rapidly as she interjected without looking up,
“No no no, we don’t need to sabotage anyone else’s equipment, what we need is an instrument so loud it can drown out a band from two blocks away. We need,” she held up her sketch triumphantly “the Air Raid Organ!”
Bright looked uneasy,
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Adam only grinned wider as he thought it though.
“How could it be better? Besides, you’re the one who invented the crazy thing.”
Wiz Kid had pulled out a tablet with a picture of Bright's old beater pickup truck and had already begun drawing in parts as he agreed.
“Yeah, your truck may be old, but when then engine blew up the replacement we put in had nearly four hundred horsepower. That should be more than enough to drown out the school’s speaker system!”
“Four hundred horsepower!? I thought the organ would be electrically driven like a normal air raid siren!” Bright squeaked, a sense of mounting alarm in his voice which all of his friends ignored.
“No, no, Wiz is right!” Dee agreed, a maniacal gleam in her eyes, “If we couple the drive shafts on the organ directly to the four wheel drive output on the transmission we’ll have enough power, and still be able to drive the truck normally in two wheel drive.”
“That’s crazy!” Bright objected. “That much power will blow out people’s eardrums!”
“Only if they’re standing right on top of it.” Adam waved dismissively, as he pulled up a sound level chart. “Hmmm. According to this, an average air raid siren has an output of about 160 decibels… That’s about the same noise level as military artillery fire…”
“What!?”
“Well, if you’re the ones firing the artillery I suppose.” Adam continued as he rubbed his chin, “So ear plugs and ear muffs will be a given, but we’ll still need to sound insulate the cab of the truck, Wiz.”
“I told you to quit calling me that.” Wiz Kid replied with an annoyed glance, “But that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll take care of the power transmission and sound deadening.”
“And I’ll take the fabrication job.” Dee chimed in, “I can weld the parts together in the school shop, and Bright Idea can handle the crude fabrication, cutting and trimming.”
“But I-”
“Hey, I may be damn good with a MIG welder, but we’re on a time table here, and I’ll need your help lifting the heavy pieces.”
“But what about the audience!?” Bright finally shouted, “If we actually build this thing it’s going to make the bagpipes sound like a kazoo! We could really hurt someone!”
Someone in particular, actually, but it wouldn't do to say. It was hard enough having a crush without your friends knowing.
In the silence that followed, the other three turned slowly to look at him with deadly serious expressions, and Bright could almost swear he saw some kind of green mist drifting around their feet.
“Bright, we want this.”
“Don’t you?”
“Old friend?”
The speaking in turn and finishing each other’s sentences was setting off all kinds of alarm bells in his head, but as the three new girls took the stage behind him, a powerful longing filled his heart.
“Yes… I want this…”
“It doesn’t matter who we hurt,”
“If we’re just proving,”
“We’re the best!”
Bright’s eyes flickered a sick green color as any doubts blew away on the song coming from the stage.
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“It’s settled then.”
“The Air Raid Organ will rise!”
“And win us the battle!”
--------------------Several days later atop hill facing the final concert -------------
“What is that thing?!” Rarity asked in alarm as she was half dragged towards the beat up old truck with four strange columns sprouting from the bed. "And what is it doing in Bright's pickup?"
“It’s our new instrument!”
“We call it an organ, but you can play it like a piano.”
Behind her, the Rainbooms and Sunset Shimmer were still getting their instruments and all the pieces of Pinkie’s drum kit into place, never missing Rarity as ear muffs were slapped on her and she was shoved into the cab.
“But… what am I playing?”
Atomic Adam took the driver’s seat next to her, set the parking brake and shifted into four wheel drive as he indicated the keyboard set into the passenger dash.
“The most beautiful instrument the world has ever known.”
There was definitely something off about his expression, the fact that his pupils had shrunk rather alarmingly not least of these. There were also three other people in the truck, crammed into jump seats and crouching behind the gear shift like conspirators. Rarity smiled when she saw Bright Idea there, but the whole thing was still awfully creepy.
As the engine roared to life and a low droning began to build ominously from the truck bed behind her, Rarity dared a question;
“Uh, darling… How does it, well, work?” As that telltale mania showed on his face, she quickly amended “Just the quick version if you could.”
Adam’s face fell a bit, but he indicated the keyboard before her.
“Each key corresponds to one wheel on the organ. The frequency of the sound is set by the number of blades on the rotating disk – pulses per rotation, while the rotations per minute determines volume and total pulses per second. C sharp for example is 32.703 pulses per second. Just push the key here,” He did so and a booming C emanated from behind them, “and the solenoids open the air valve to that disk to let air in and the sound out.”
“But what about-”
“A normal keyboard has 88 keys, yes. This one has 97 keys because it can go deeper than a normal piano.”
The sheer volume of the tone was a bit alarming, and through the windshield Rarity could already see heads turning in their direction, but she could also see her friends nearly had the parts of Pinkie’s kit into place. Biting her lip, she laid her hands on the keyboard, then stopped.
“Adam, does this keyboard have midsies enabled?” Rarity hoped she was remembering that right. The engineers had helped her configure the wireless make-it-louder thingy for her keytar before the Dazzlings had arrived to sow discord and competition at Canterlot High. And there had been something very important about midsies…
“MIDI, you mean? You bet it does. It even has the option to input from the same class of wireless amplifier-” That was the word for it! “that your keytar does…hey!”
“Exactly my thoughts, darling. I really need to be next to my bandmates to play properly, there are cues and things that I need to be able to see and of course there’s the singing, which I can’t very well do in this entirely lovely…truck.”
“I’ll get it set up for you!”
“Something else, dear,” Rarity remarked. “Have you noticed the lovely and ever-so-charming shape of that band shell our competition will be performing in?”
“The acoustic band shell,” Scribble Dee nodded. “It works as a natural amplifier.”
“Just so, dears,” the fashionista continued. “I just seem to remember something from the Regional Science Fair where you four so capably captured the blue ribbon.”
“The tritium cellphone charms with RFID locator chips?” Scribble Dee asked
“Before that.”
“The dihydrogen monoxide gullibility experiment Sunset Shimmer got us to do?” Wiz Kid asked.
“…Before that.”
“The x-ray machine we made out of antique clock paint from eBay that got school closed for two days while Principal Celestia called HAZMAT?” Atomic Adam sighed wistfully and Rarity’s eyes goggled at the memory.
“…Maybe this one was from Canterlot Middle School?”
“Oh, the parabolic reflector dish. We cooked hot dogs and popcorn with sunshine," Bright Idea recalled. "You got some in your hair when it popped too soon," he reminisced, his expression softening and his pupils going back down to size for a split second.
“Now that’s the one! Looking at that acoustic shell down there, and remembering the shape of your para-what’s-the-word, doesn’t that look like it has a certain…potential? I mean, sound is supposed to travel in waves like light, isn’t it?”
“You mean…?” The engineers’ eyes lit up with a sick green light again, their pupils went pointy and Rarity could’ve sworn Scribble Dee actually drooled a bit.
Bright Idea was the first to snap out of it.
“Guys, we need to dial this back. Someone could get really hurt. I know we want to beat the Dazzlings, but-”
“It doesn’t matter who we hurt-”
“If we’re just proving we’re the –wait!” Wiz Kid snapped out of it, next. “We wouldn’t be the best, would we? The Rainbooms would!”
“I assure you, Wiz, we have no interest in being the best,” Rarity explained. “Have you noticed anything…odd about the Dazzlings?”
“Besides the fact that we can’t even see where their synthesizers and backing tracks are playing from? I wanted to ask about the technical specs on their amplification and they just brushed me off,” Atomic Adam snapped back to normal with a resentful look.
“That’s because they aren’t using instruments, darling. You…erm…remember Sunset Shimmer’s little, ahem, incident?”
“Yeah, with the magic and the splody and the science she’ll never explain to us,” Wiz Kid frowned. “Apart from you Rainbooms, we were some of the only people still talking to her at all, and all she said was that she didn’t want to talk about it and went to hide in the girls’ room.”
“And even there she just hid in a stall and cried,” Scribble Dee’s eyes were normal again behind her glasses. “Oh…you don’t mean…”
“Exactly,” Rarity nodded. “The Dazzlings are creatures from another world, using Equestrian magic to enslave the entire student body by sowing competition and selfishness so that they can literally feed on the ensuing conflict.”
“…You mean…”Adam’s face went ashen.
“We’re in a teen movie,” Scribble, Wiz and Bright Idea gasped in unison.
Rarity’s eyebrow went straight up.
“The what now?”
“Think about it,” Scribble started shivering as she talked, gesturing elaborately with her hands. “There’s only one place where new students can show up, completely overthrow the social order of a high school by one-dimensional sociopathic means.”
“It’s the only time you ever see high-school students portrayed as truly lacking all empathy, partaking in all manner of vices their parents fear and misunderstand and generally backstabbing their way through a social milieu no sane adult would go back to if paid to do so,” Wiz agreed.
“It’s the one situation where a sentimental and overly-normative moral with a suitable dramatic catharsis can solve the inherent problems with putting a group of immature adolescents into a building for seven hours a day, five days a week and expecting them to cope despite inadequately formed cerebral cortexes, hormonal upheaval and the existence of gym class,” Adam nodded.
“Society nods its head at any horror the American teenager can think upon itself,” Bright Idea sighed. “Provided, of course, it happens in a teen movie.”
Rarity looked over at her friends, who were hooking up their instruments, down to the acoustic shell where students were starting to mill into standing room, then back up to the four utterly dejected engineers.
It was a teen movie, she realized. The Raging Fractals were dead right. The best she and her friends could possibly hope for was a suitable dramatic catharsis, probably around the general theme of ‘friendship is magic,’ and the best anyone else at Canterlot High could hope for was a brief speaking role in the presence of one of the designated protagonists.
Because, really, that’s what high school was: the slow realization that despite feeling like the protagonist of your own story, the world views you as a supporting character who exists only to advance the plot. Only the popular kids and the protagonists’ best friends got to feel special, and even they were probably cruising for a fall once they reached college, got a real job or otherwise had to compete with a world that didn’t value backstabbing, gossip or bouncy hair, where athletic skill only mattered to the end of your twenties and where only marketable skills and social competence would or could ever matter.
Which begged the question of why teen movies were so utterly rubbish at delivering the best moral of all.
“Listen to me!” Rarity snapped, her polished tones giving way to pure vehemence. “This may very well be a teen movie. Those Sirens out there may be one-dimensional sociopathic villains, and it may well be that the only way to defeat them is for a designated protagonist to realize something moral and important about friendship or whatever!” The engineers gazed at her, impressed. “But you’re forgetting something else about teen movies. In teen movies, the geeks can win.”
“Really?”
“Think about it! Has there been a single teen movie where the outsider didn’t defeat the popular psychopath? Ever? Has there been a teen movie where the designated protagonist could so much as get dressed in the morning without her geeky supporting cast? And who really has the best chances of success once high school is over?”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Scribble growled, a flash of green coming back into her eyes. “You’re pretty and popular. You have a whole clique of friends and everyone likes you. Boys think you’re cute and will do anything you ask. You can afford beautiful clothes and don’t have to get new lenses in the same ugly glasses for four straight years ‘cause your folks are broke. People remember who you are and invite you out to things because you’re you, not because you’re better with a MiG welder or good at programming.” She glared at the three male engineers. “You’re not the token girl.”
“Scribble Dee, look at me,” Rarity took a pair of orange cat’s-eye glasses out of her pocket. “Do you see these? These are my real reading glasses. I have contacts on with a prescription probably just as strong as yours. I bought them myself because my parents make even less than yours do. Your mom’s an accountant and your dad’s a machinist. My parents work in retail. The pretty clothes, I made myself, and when I can’t afford fabric, I remake things from the thrift shop. I read magazines in the library to get the latest designer looks, and those ears and tails I make? Those are how my family could afford to give Sweetie Belle a birthday party with her two friends last year. And the generosity thing, that’s me trying to make sure nobody ever feels poor again, because I know all too well what that’s like.
“Fact is, I’m a geek too. I’ve got interests that my friends find annoying because I take them so seriously, flaws that make me less popular and problems in social life. Isn’t that the textbook definition?”
The engineers slowly nodded.
“You think Applejack doesn’t occasionally get sick of my nonsense with clothes and fashion, when I’m just doing the one thing that makes high school tolerable? You think I don’t get tired of her endless family-business thing, even though it’s literally keeping the Apples’ heads above water since she lost her folks? She’s so honest because integrity is the only thing her folks left her with. Fluttershy is obsessed with animals, ever wonder why? She grew up in foster care and she takes care of that bunny of hers because nobody ever took care of her; all that kindness is the kindness she never got. Pinkie Pie takes medication to keep her manic-depressive disorder under control and the endless parties and socializing is how she copes with it. She brings laughter to everyone because laughing is the only way she can keep from crying. Rainbow Dash’s mother left and all the sports, the rock music and the ego thing are her trying to convince herself that she’s still awesome despite that and make her Dad proud of her. She’s so loyal because the person she needed most left her.”
“I never knew that,” Scribble Dee mumbled.
“Well, that’s not the sort of thing you tell everyone, is it? It’s what you tell your friends, because you trust them not to use it against you or think less of you for it,” Rarity sighed. “And you four are my friends as well. I’m not always as good at showing it, because our interests don’t overlap as closely as some of my other friends –well, that and we’re on completely different class schedules.”
“That is a problem in high school,” Bright Idea conceded.
“But you, Scribble Dee, you fixed my sewing machine when the…the thingy broke, and you went with me to the store to help me choose one that’d be more reliable. I couldn’t have done that without you.”
“It helps to know about machines in general,” Scribble nodded.
“And you, Adam, you helped me pass Physics for nothing but some trouser alterations. That helped me out a lot.”
“Your wedgieproof pants help me just as much,” Atomic Adam grinned. “I don’t even get teased for having them up too high anymore.”
“Wiz Kid, you tutored Sweetie Belle in algebra. I can never, ever repay you for that,” Rarity went on. “Literally. I hate algebra.”
“It’s a lot of fun if you like it,” Wiz agreed, “but I can see why not everybody does.”
“And Bright Idea, you and I have been friends since kindergarten. You fixed my keytar and helped Sunset Shimmer with the Rainbooms’ gear, even though she…well, before her Little Incident, she was pretty terrible to you.”
“I like instruments and I really care about you –guys,” Bright explained, “even if I’m not quite ready to forgive Sunset Shimmer yet. But hey, if you think she’s reformed, I did see how helpful she was as your band manager…well…until that last song.”
“Oh, that. Rainbow was manifesting signs of Equestrian magic and Sunset was afraid we’d tip our hand to the Dazzlings before we were ready to defeat them.”
The engineers looked completely blank.
“…It’s a thing we can do. Twilight Sparkle explained it all.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,’ after all,” Bright Idea quoted, with a thoughtful look on his face. “All of a sudden I don’t want to defeat the Dazzlings the way I did a bit ago.”
“Me, neither.”
“Me, three.”
“Well, I do, but I want to defeat them because they’re clearly the designated antagonists, they made everyone at Canterlot High nasty to one another again and because…well…” Scribble Dee’s face lit up with an all-too-familiar mania. “I really want to see what the Air Raid Organ can do.”
“I think we’re all curious to see that, dear,” Rarity agreed. “Vaguely terrified, but still curious.”
“It’s like their competition and hatred just worked as...motivation…” Atomic Adam realized.
“Yeah! I never had anything against them or the other bands, I just…wanted it,” Wiz agreed.
“Really wanted it,” Bright nodded.
“Well, competition can be healthy,” Rarity shrugged, glancing down at the standing room of the concert shell, where a suspicious green haze was already surrounding the other students. “Or not. I think the wisdom is in learning the difference.”
“We’ve got to figure out a way to stop the Dazzlings that doesn’t hurt anyone,” Adam looked grave.
Scribble Dee had already taken out a thick pad of graph paper. “I think I’ve got something,” she grinned. “Parabolic reflector dish…”
The engineers and the fashionista –okay, the five geeks, talked among themselves for a few minutes. Math was done, the truck was carefully moved back a few meters, a wireless antenna was clipped onto Rarity’s keytar, and a signal was agreed-upon. The four engineers remained in the sound-dampened pickup truck (two in front, two in the king cab jump seats,) just as the lights came up on the Dazzlings’ entrance onto the stage.
“Where ya been?” Applejack asked Rarity as she joined the Rainbooms with her instrument.
“Reinforcements, darling.”
Just then, a sleek white sports car pulled up, transforming into a portable stage with elaborate speakers, a mixer and fabulous ground effects for her friends. Vinyl Scratches grinned and Rarity made a mental note to seat her between Scribble Dee and Wiz Kid at Pinkie’s next party.
The Dazzlings had no idea what they were up against.
---------------------
The ringing in Adagio’s ears still wouldn’t quit, though they were miles away from the performance hall by now. Their car weaved and skidded through side roads and back alleys as Sonata jerked the wheel hard left to throw off any pursuit.
“Sonata, slow down you twit! There’s no one following us!”
“WHAT?!”
Adagio facepalmed. Their escape after the concert had been a lunatic’s dash to their car, boots crunching broken glass most of the way. Whatever Equestrian magic had been turned against them had shattered every window for two blocks, as well as their pendants, and she wasn’t sure she could still sing without them. All of this had been that much harder because apparently, no one could hear her.
“I said slow down! No one is chasing us!”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU! I'VE GOT TO GET US OUT OF HERE! CAN’T YOU HEAR THE RINGING OF THE POLICE SIRENS?!“
Adagio growled, getting ready to smack some sense into her when, inexplicably, their van skidded to a halt and turned into a gas station at the edge of the city.
“You ran out of gas during a car… an imaginary car chase?” She breathed in exasperation.
Sonata hopped out and started the pump, attracting the attention of the bored-looking attendant who noticed her performance outfit and sauntered over.
“Hey, did you just come from that concert? I never heard this band before,” he added looking in the direction of the school some eight miles off, “but I kind of want their album now. Do you know who’s playing?”
Sonata seemed to see the attendant for the first time, and dimly noticed his lips were moving.
“WHAT?!”
---------------------
Friendship had returned to Canterlot High at last.
Atomic Adam and Scribble Dee were neck-deep in what was either conversation or an interpretive dance done entirely with elaborate hand gestures with Vinyl Scratches and Pinkie Pie. They were comparing notes on vehicle-powered musical instrument systems plus music in general and had been ever since the Battle of the Bands ended ...some five days ago. Wiz Kid was involved part of the time as well, but he occasionally broke away from the group to pick up a tray of lunch or remind his four friends to eat. It was something engineers and DJs apparently had to designate someone to do. Rarity, who once lost five pounds just from forgetfulness while preparing her Fall Formal ensemble, could sympathize. And Pinkie Pie, who thought the Air-Raid Organ was the best thing she’d ever seen and couldn’t wait to make it shoot confetti somehow, kept producing cupcakes from…somewhere. It didn’t pay to think too hard about how she did such things.
Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Sunset Shimmer had also approached Wiz Kid on the Monday after the competition to ask about multi-track recording. The engineer had warmed to his subject and intelligently told them everything they could want to know, helped them select the best equipment from the A/V club’s stores and carefully tutored all three in how to do just what they had in mind for the duration of an entire study hall…only to blush like a beetroot about ten minutes after they’d thanked him for his help and left for their latest class. Curiously, it wasn’t the affectionate smile from Fluttershy or the impulsively friendly hug from Sunset that seemed to resonate with him, but the exceedingly awkward handshake with Rainbow Dash, who had been blushing a little herself, for some reason, and actually punched Sunset in the shoulder when she dared mention it.
And Rarity herself…well…she’d been happy to practice with her friends when the time allowed, and classes were a mix of interesting and dull like they always were. At home, she was working on some costumes for a play Sweetie Belle had written for elective drama class, as well as an outfit another girl was paying her to make, which would mean a little more for her college fund. She had her eye on a fashion design program in Manehattan, and even with scholarships, the cost of living there was bound to make things difficult if she didn’t save carefully. Already she had photographed most of the Rainbooms’ costumes for her application portfolio.
But something was still missing. She’d looked for Bright Idea in the halls at school, but he’d been nowhere to be found.
It was funny how he’d been the one to best resist the Dazzlings’ song, and always the first of the engineers to snap out of it. And helping Sunset with the Rainbooms’ gear had been by no means the only kind thing he’d done for her and her friends.
Funny how ‘and her friends’ always seemed like an afterthought with him.
Rarity stood up from her drafting table with a start. How had she missed that? Did he…oh, no.
She really wasn’t good with boys, she had to admit. Just look at how her first Fall Formal had gone. A long-held crush on Principal Celestia’s jerk of a nephew had been crushed completely by the realization that her personal taste in prospective dates didn’t always lead her to the best candidates. And this was not the first time she’d been completely oblivious to someone else’s long-held crush. Boys like Rover and Fido would do whatever she asked simply because she was pretty, but the effect quickly wore off if one attempted to have any kind of a conversation.
Fashionable, attractive boys and the rocker crowd sometimes had an interest in her, but the conversations tended to either revolve exclusively around clothes or, a little more frequently than she liked, devolved into ugly attempts to press her further than she was ready to go. And on at least two occasions, even those ham-fisted seduction attempts had ended in tears, coming out exclusively to her and the helpless explanation that a girlfriend would help a closeted young man protect his reputation and hide the fact that he was desperately in love with a male classmate. On those occasions, Rarity had generously feigned a relationship for over a month, staged a very public breakup that implied the worse of her and, privately, told each boy about the other’s crush and compatible orientation.
Athletic boys lost patience with her fastidiousness and lack of interest in games and scores. The eco-kids were charming enough, but the smell of patchouli was not a favorite, she was a bit fonder of frequent bathing and elaborate grooming than they were and while they respected her ability to remake thrift-store finds, the fact that she couldn’t always use every fabric scrap and owned a modest number of leather goods was a bit of a dealbreaker. And the drama boys, well, they generally only showed an interest when costumes were needed for an upcoming production.
There was really something to be said for the techie kids, who didn’t really trust looks, wouldn’t know fashion if it bit them and were only too happy to explain something fascinating or arcane to a self-confessed dilettante. And sure, Bright Idea had never shown any active interest the way other boys at school did, but his simple acts of kindness were, in their shy way, actually more appealing than the interest that ranged from rude catcalls and questionable text messages to stammered-but-polite invitations and anonymous letters.
Rarity had to concede that Bright Idea was a nice guy, a good friend, and while not as dashing as some other fellows, he had a quiet handsomeness about him. Those freckles and that soft aqua hair made him look younger than his low voice and skill in classes would imply, and Rarity had to concede that he dressed very, very well, especially for one of the techie kids. His friends trusted him, he’d gone out of his way to help her and the Rainbooms defeat the Dazzlings even after it became clear what the real problem was, his help had been invaluable even as far back as middle school…and she had to admit, the idea of a date where there was actually something to talk about sounded very appealing.
She only hoped she was right, and that he really did like her in that way, because the time she’d just spent thinking about it had convinced her that she liked him quite a bit.
The doorbell rang and she answered it, her parents still being at work and Sweetie Belle absorbed in something that involved headphones and hopefully a minimum of damage with her two best friends.
Standing on the front step was Bright Idea, his hair askew, his clothes a bit rumpled and a laptop in his hands.
“What you said, about the ears and tails being a source of income for you, well, I got to thinking, and I thought, what if you contracted with a bulk screen-printer to produce t-shirts and merchandise with your own designs, then set up a website where students could order things that suited their personalities and had a touch of school spirit, too?”
“Bright Idea, is that where you’ve been for the past few days?” Rarity motioned him inside and, in a daze, the engineer followed her.
“Kinda. I figured out a way to make it count as a project for Economics class. See, I’ve built you a website, all the code is set so you can input content with a sandbox WYSIWYG editor, I have bids from four different screen printers and all you need to do is pick one, put in the designs and you’ll be able to make more money with your work.” Bright stopped to breathe for a second and smiled shyly. “See, I used the logo you made for Pinkie Pie’s drum set for a sample template.”
“You did all this…for me?” Not the most original reply, Rarity conceded, but it was how she felt. Bright shyly nodded.
“I care a lot about –my friends,” he half-stammered. “All that time when Sunset Shimmer had everyone fighting before she changed, you were never anything but nice to me, and so generous with your time and attention even when the other fashion kids gave you attitude about me being –well, a geek. I felt bad that I’d never known what was going on with you and your family, and I thought, well, maybe I could help, because helping is a thing that friends do for friends, isn’t it?”
“And you see me as a friend?” she asked.
Bright Idea was about to nod, but stopped suddenly, and looked at his shoes, a look of near-defeat on his face. Then he stopped, straightened, and Rarity recognized the look of determination that had defeated the Dazzlings …and shattered glass for a two-block radius without significant injury to the student body’s ears.
“Rarity, I…” And then the look was gone, a hesitation stopping the words just as hard as his bitten lip.
“Because I would really prefer you as a date, to be honest, Bright,” Rarity’s cheeks burned and she realized she was blushing redder than Sunset’s hair. “I liked what we did together as friends, and I appreciate the kind things you’ve done for me-”
“And I appreciate how kind you’ve been to me,” Bright interjected. “I wasn’t just being kind and hoping you’d see me some other way, maybe like me because of what I did for you. That’d be monstrous. Just being your friend has been wonderful but…well…since about the ninth grade I’ve felt differently about you than other girls. I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, I like you as more than a friend and…I didn’t quite know how to tell you that without it looking like I was trying to weasel my way into your affections by being some sleazy ‘nice guy.’” Bright Idea smirked ruefully. “Scribble Dee warned me that sleazy nice guys are total jerks and I saw how some of the guys at school treated you. Especially what’s his name, Blue something.”
“I didn’t realize how I felt about you, either,” Rarity explained. “I’ve been so fond of you as a friend, it never occurred to me to think you’d be interested in anything else. It seemed like everyone who was interested showed interest, you know? That or they were trying the weasel thing. I guess I just never imagined someone I liked that much as a friend could like me another way.”
“…So…you like me?”
“I’ve liked you for years, Bright Idea,” Rarity’s smile was a little shyer than usual. “But now, I’m starting to think I might like-like you.”
Motivation is a remarkable thing among engineers. They do not always have it, but when they do, it is very hard to stop them from achieving the goal in front of them. With horsepower and explosives, if necessary.
“How about dinner? Right now. We can take my truck and go to that pizza place near Sugarcube Corner. I can show you this website and stuff I’ve been working on, and I’d love to hear about your latest sewing project.”
“How’d you know I have a sewing project?”
“Rarity, you kind of always have a sewing project,” Bright smiled. “That, and look at you.”
Rarity realized she had a tape measure around her neck, a pincushion on her wrist and her reading glasses, while pretty far down her nose, were still on. Even her coiffure had several hairs out of place, her makeup hadn’t been touched up since fifth period, she had a working apron on over her school clothes and her usual stylish shoes had been replaced with a comfy but bedraggled pair of slippers more befitting Rainbow Dash after an especially rainy soccer game.
She was hideous!
“I’m afraid I can’t go out with you right now, Bright,” she explained, feeling like twenty pounds of heel in a ten-pound bag as his face fell. “No, wait, it’s not for the reason you think. My little sister’s home, she has friends over, and our mom and dad won’t be back until-”
“Friends, you say?” Bright took out his smartphone and smiled. “How about I just call for delivery, then? We’ll have even more time to talk.”
“Really? You’d do that?”
“Well, sure! There’s a special if we get more than one, I’m sure Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom like pizza, it saves you having to cook something and it allows the greatest possible amount of conversation, which makes it the most efficient possible form of date,” Bright explained. “I mean, if you don’t mind a kind of staying-at-home pizza-ordering kind of date. Maybe this could still count under the ‘friends’ heading and we can save ‘date’ for when we can plan something more elaborate.”
“I could definitely look better,” Rarity agreed, looking down at her sewing things.
“No, you couldn’t,” Bright grinned at her.
“It’s a date, then!” Rarity leaned over and kissed Bright Idea on the cheek. “You call and order-”
“Your favorite is Hawaiian with pineapple and Fresca,” Bright smirked. “Some advantage to dating friends.”
“…Wow. And I will go upstairs and just…straighten myself up a bit. It’s for me, darling, not for you. I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but appearances are a big part of my self-confidence.”
“I kind of assumed.”
“I will return in about…five minutes. Is that enough time to call?”
“Plenty.”
“Great! I will be right back!”
And after what was the fastest and most oddly efficient getting-ready-for-a-date-EEEEEEEE panic of her life, Rarity was back downstairs just as Bright thanked the delivery place and hung up.
“So…” she hesitated, wondering what to say next, given that the usual compliments and questions of a first date were pointless with someone she’d known for years. “Tell me about this ‘economics project’ of yours.”
“Gladly,” Bright half-bowed, then looked around for some kind of table on which to set the laptop he'd been holding the entire time. Rarity motioned to the couch and coffee table, and within seconds the familiar mania, him for technology and her for fashion, had overwhelmed them both.
There was something to be said for efficiency. By the time the impatiently ringing doorbell brought three Crusaders downstairs to find out what was going on, Rarity and Bright Idea’s overlap of geeky interests had resulted in a scene entirely worthy of their shocked gasps and fist-muffled giggling, though not nearly justifying the immediate sprint back to Sweetie Belle’s room to gossip about it. (“After all, it was just kissin’!” Apple Bloom observed.)
“I think I figured it out, why the Dazzlings’ spell didn’t work as well on me as the rest,” Bright Idea remarked as he all-too-reluctantly got up from the couch to answer the door and get their dinner.
“Oh?” Rarity’s hair was now significantly disheveled, her lip gloss essentially gone and, oddly enough, she found that she didn’t care even the slightest bit.
“There was someone I wanted more,” the engineer smiled.
“…Oh.”
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Raise the question.
Begging the question is circular arguments:
¿is Rainbow Dash the most awesome? ¡As the awesomest pony ever, ¿how could she not be‽
This is a nice proscience story. With the CreaTards (the flat/young-Earth geocentric creationists), I fear for our future:
During the early Middle Ages, the Islamic countries were the most scientifically progressive countries on Earth, but in the late Middle Ages, a belief took hold claiming that the Koran is the only book one should read and that mathematics is diabolical. We know how that turned out for them.
We have CreaTards trying to ruin our educational system. We must fight them.
I like the ProSTEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) in this story.
5721017
Whether the US will lead the world or whether the world will leave the US behind depends upon whether we embrace science or deny it. I love the prostem of this story. Compare it to the anti-intellectualism of RealityCheck, who is a young Earth creationist. On the show, we need more proscience episodes like Bridle Gossip and no more antiscience episodes like Feeling Pinkie Keen. The anti-intellectualism of creationists is a threat to education and directly threatens our future.
572342
⸘Do you honestly believe that we can compete with backwards technology‽ Let me give to you a little historical lesson:
At 1 time, China was the most technologically advanced country on Earth, but it turned inward. England, a small Island-Nation embraced innovation. England found it profitable to sell opium in China. China did not want its citizens to become useless addicts. Long story short, little England won against a larger country which was a hyperpower, but turned its back on science and technology.
War should be a last resort —— ¡not a 1st option! —— but sometimes war is necessary. Soon, the militaries of the world will have autonomous killing machines. ¡We cannot afford an Autonomous-Killing-Machine-Gap! ¡We cannot afford to be dependent on foreigners for our autonomous killing machines! ¡We need scientists and engineers for designing the autonomous killing machines!! ¡We need skilled workers for building the autonomous killing machines! ¡The autonomous killing machines cannot design and build themselves —— yet!
The hypothesis Omphalos, which is the only hypothesis creationists have which fits the evidence, denies science because it states that a deity created the universe with the appearance of age, so that studying the universe is a waste of time. Besides, this lying deity means that theists could not trust the deity either. Indeed, Professor Bertrand Russel pointed out that Omphalos is isomorphic with Last-Thursdayism.
Scientific progress reduces the need for deities. God od the gaps means that biblical literalists must either abandon biblical literalism or deny science.
Kill nonbelievers, rape is a property-crime, be a religious bigot, repress women, sexually mutilate the genitals of babies (christians do not have to do that any more), keep slaves, et cetera
The Atheist Perry DeAngelis saw space-aliens when he had a near-death experience. People experience phenomena congruent with their believe (hindoos experience hindoo-imagery, shintos shinto-imagery, et cetera). We do not know that the phenomena occur when the EEG (ElectroEncephaloGram) is flat. We know that brains go all wacky while dying and that people recovering from near-death-experiences often go through a delirious stage during recovery. Not all people who experience cardiac-arrest have near-death-experiences and people can have near-death-like experiences without cardiac-arrest.
I think the comments section needs to pour itself a drink and calm down just a bit. Yes, this story is pro-STEM-fields, includes the idea that science = good, and is generally very positive about science, technology, engineering and math being taught early and often. But you'll also notice that this story includes a pretty strong 'liberal arts with a business side and STEM can get along,' message as well. That was not unintentional.
Cozy and I generally do not often address the issue of science-denying young-Earth Creationists, for some very good reasons. For one thing, science-deniers are too silly to be worth discussing. We don't even discuss them when we meet them. With practice, it is possible to burst into laughter and compliment someone on their satirical joke, bringing up such nonsense, "you really had me going there for a second," and then riff on the topic for a few moments before changing the subject. It's a remarkably effective bit of conversational jiu-jitsu and has the effect of making the holders of such beliefs seriously question A. the beliefs themselves and B. whether they sound really silly airing them in polite company.
As for people of faith who are pro-science, accepting of evolution and open-minded enough to keep their faith in the one pocket and their understanding of how reality works (at the nuts-and-bolts level,) in the other, well, we rarely discuss them for the same reason fish rarely discuss water. There's a splendid old movie called 'Inherit the Wind,' and while it does a number and a half on strictly-literal, rabidly anti-science Creationism as practiced in the United States, the ending isn't exactly kind to atheist cynics, either. Personally, I see no incompatibility between a belief in God or the higher power of your choice (mine not to judge,) and an understanding of how science works. Deism was good enough for the Founding Fathers and the idea that God/Allah/The Great Will of the Macrocosm/whoever intended for our science to figure out how Creation was done seems perfectly reasonable. I also have nothing against atheists; they just believe in one less deity. Theists, atheists, people of any religion, so long as you aren't obnoxious about it, it's all good in the 'hood. It might, however, be worthwhile to take a library DVD of 'Inherit the Wind' for a spin and check oneself before one wreck'st oneself. (Hint: Gene Kelly's character in that one is not a good guy. The lack of musical numbers should tip you off.)
But mainly, we didn't set out to write a story about engineers and scientists curb-stomping young-Earth anti-science Creationists because they really aren't the enemy. (That, and they seriously aren't even mentioned here. I don't think they even exist in the Equestria Girls universe.) For such people to consider themselves the enemy of science would be like a tin can fancying itself the ancient enemy of rifles. No, such wanton ignorance is much, much worse. Such people are the tools of the real enemies of science and of STEM education in the United States and elsewhere; the political oligarchy who knows science well enough to profit from it and nevertheless seeks to keep the electorate so badly educated that issues this nonsensical still haul out the hillbillies and the hoodrats to the polls. Ignorant people are not the enemy any more than baseball bats and spray paint are the enemy of public buildings during a mass riot. You have to look at who's really holding them, controlling them, and then, with understanding and a basic explanation of how to play follow-the-money with propaganda campaigns, you can begin to loosen the enemy's grip.
More importantly, the idea that STEM cannot exist in a sociocultural vacuum and that it's possible for the STEM crowd to have friends and even find mates in other fields is pretty important to the two of us, personally. As you may have guessed, that's essentially our backstory as a pair. Cozy is an engineer. I work in a field that involves the arts, business, history and politics. Given the nature of the real threats to STEM education, I would posit that engineers making friends outside their academic cluster may be the single best way to ensure the anti-science forces can't succeed.
Oh, and personal note to Walabio: the Islamic revolt against science did not actually begin in the Middle Ages at all, but is a result of a comparatively modern radical-fundamentalist movement called Wahabbism. It's approximately the same age as North American radical-fundamentalist Protestant Christian movements, runs on nearly the exact same principles and is essentially the analogue to the FLDS, the Westboro Baptist 'Church' and the Klan, all rolled into one big ball of crazy. The problem with the Middle East is, essentially, that where American free speech let religious fundamentalism factionalize into too many disparate groups to be especially effective (that is, until the 'Religious Right' was created in the mid-1970s as a political tool to amalgamate disparate elements as a force against progressive reform,) countries like Iran, Egypt and especially Saudi Arabia had no such competition-building atmosphere (free speech is an essential human right for a damn reason!) and Wahabbist Islam overpowered more moderate and progressive variants. There's a reason why Muslims in developed nations tend to be overwhelmingly liberal, progressive and tolerant, much like how Christians in wealthy cities tend to be the same: fundamentalism, hatred and intolerance can only function amid poverty and ignorance, and where it takes over, the smart and rich tend to leave. (Draw what conclusions you wish about the comparative affluence of red and blue counties here.)
I will, however, mention, that Cozy did attend the kind of high school where the Biology teacher, of all people, actually was a vehement, science-denying young-Earth Creationist, and that's one of the biggest reasons why I (as occasional co-writer, editor and all-purpose Mrs.,) often have to tell him to "dial it back," when it comes to such characters. When one is trapped in a situation with such ignorance, especially with ignorance in positions of authority, it can be pretty horrible. 'Emotionally draining' and 'rage-inducing' are the least of the adjectives. And it can still sting, even years after you escape from such hellholes of ignorance and, usually, poverty.
I can therefore, absolutely understand why someone currently forced to live among science-deniers of any variety (really, they have them in lots of flavors, not just fundamentalist-Christian,) would turn to a community dedicated to friendship and acceptance to air views and vent frustrations. My sympathies and those of my husband are with anyone who is in such a trying situation, and I can only promise that really, honest and truly, it does get better. From where we sit in our late twenties/early thirties, high school is but an old scar that stings sometimes, our hometowns are far, far away and the nearest science-denier who poses any threat to us at anything but the ballot level is literally outside the post-code. But that doesn't mean we don't remember how hard it was, or how much it cut at the time to be forced to live in places where ignorance was picked up and used as a tool to beat others.
It gets better. Really. Give it time, save your money as best you can, and plan your escape.
That, and I promise you, there is no sweeter moment for someone who once lived among science-deniers of the young-Earth Creationist variety than the first day, or sometimes the second, of college geology. There is such a treat waiting there, a verbal and moral smackdown the likes of which even the late Spencer Tracy can only just about equal. If it helps to get you through times stuck among such tools, dream of what the average college professor would do to them, smile, and carry on.
Great read
Great quote
Shame about the comments
Would you look at that, almost none of the comments have anything to do with the story itself at all. A shame really, and it doesn't help that my comment isn't doing anything but bemoan the state of the comments either. Woah I'm feeling meta today.
Woah! I LOVE this story! Great job mate ;D
Starting off by mentioning I liked the story. Nice little tale.
Then I read some comments. Hoo boy...
Now, I'm not saying that everyone on my "side of the aisle" is a rational being, nor that everyone on the other side is irrational, but there are WAY too many times where evolution is guilty of blatantly ignoring scientifically proven principles (how mutations actually work, layers of rock forming in seconds instead of eons during major disasters *coughMajorFloodscoughVolcanicEruptionscough*, all the other dating methods having assumptions that could easily or even likely be faulty (high heat adding millenia onto the actual total for instance), etc.) for the idea of "young-earth creationism" to be shut down simply by claiming it does the same.
That line about college professors laying verbal and moral smackdowns? I've seen them (and those far above them in the scientific food chain) completely shut down by extremely simple questions many, MANY times. Still haven't heard an even halfway feasible counter-argument to the First Cause Argument for instance, and that's as simple a thesis as can be conceived!
wasnt expecting that much romance, but not bad, though the words 'air raid organ' certainly set off several warning signs, a title like that gets clicked just to see if its as bad of an idea as those words make it sound, yes it is and its hilarious. i want one.
or even possible
By connecting air hoses to spinning disks with evenly-spaced perforations, the siren timbre is translated musically. Polyphony gives our instrument an organ-like personality: keys are mapped to different frequencies and the pressure applied to them determines volume.
The Siren Organ | Zenodo
I can't believe it this thing exists
11545422
That is awesome : )
This group took the more level headed option and built what is basically an air compressor powered reedless bagpipe. The characters in the fictional story aren't constrained by money and reality so their version uses the centrifuge energy of many spinning compressor wheels to do the same thing. That's why they need to tap into the transmission of a 400 hp truck to drive the thing - it's volume and energy expenditure are nuts. I didn't specify in the story, but I imagine the operator playing while another person handles the gas peddle and up/down shifting as the notes extract energy from the flywheels.
Thank you for sharing that : )
11545765
welcome