"Alright, brother of mine, she's in," Flim says, flicking one last switch on the monitor console and walking away.
"We'll check her in a minute or — oh my."
Flim turns. The door to the machine has been opened from the inside, and the orange earth pony is staggering out, eyes blurry with tears. He's at her side in a moment. "Miss — are you …?"
She throws her hooves around his withers, lets out a sob, and buries her face in his shoulder, clinging like a shipwreck survivor, waves of shakes breaking against her body.
Flim looks back helplessly at his brother. Flam shrugs, wide-eyed, and sidles over to examine the monitors.
Flim holds the sobbing earth pony awkwardly, stroking her mane. Then he finally realizes why her face looks familiar, and it gets worse.
She's that orchard owner from Ponyville.
His throat tightens. Visions swirl of angry mobs, pitchforks. He feels sweat bead on his brow. "My dear mare," he mutters — bracing himself to break the cardinal, inviolable rule — "we're deeply, deeply sorry for whatever it was that happened, and please allow me to offer a …" Despite his desperation he has to force himself to say it. "A ref—"
"It worked," Flam interrupts. "The spell activated and completed."
Flim blinks. "Completed? That quickly?"
"Our apologies, miss," Flam says. "It looks like the machine might need some calibration. We'll give you some discount tickets for the carnival rides."
Flim gestures at, what was her name, Applejig or something, frantically with a hoof. "We'll give her," Flim hisses, "her bits back."
Flam stares at his brother in disbelief, then down at the mare clinging to Flim. Finally, finally, his eyes widen in recognition. "Oh. Um. Yes, that might be arranged."
She takes a few gasping breaths, struggling for control, then looks up at the inventors. Under her tear-streaked cheeks is a bittersweet smile.
The mare finally finds her voice: "Tha… that's right decent of y'all. But there's no need."
"The machine eliminates your greatest regret," Flim says automatically.
"Lets you visit a happier world," Flam adds.
"Which it clearly didn't."
"We stand behind our product, madam."
"Well, it worked," she says, shifting her weight shakily back to her own hooves.
Flim and Flam exchange a speechless glance.
"I reckon I wasn't expectin' much from y'all after that mess with the cider," she says, rubbing her cheeks with a pastern, "but I had to try. Had to see."
Flim, utterly lost, breaks the second rule. "Had to see … what? What was your regret?"
The mare reaches over to the peg by the door of the machine, pausing as her hoof touches her Stetson. "I regretted doin' the right thing." She lifts the brim of the hat, and stares at the band. "I listened to the smart bits of my heart instead of the selfish bits … and it ripped a little hole in me I never rightly mended."
"What did you see inside?" Flim says. He has to hear this, now.
"Brother —" Flam protests.
Flim pushes him away. "If you don't mind me asking."
She takes a long breath. "Pa," she says quietly. "After the accident."
Flim immediately regrets his curiosity. "Oh. Er … I'm sorry."
But the words are pouring out of her now, the dam broken: "We were all in the waiting room. One of the nurses came out, looking a right wreck. She asked for me an' Mac an' Gran. I gave Apple Bloom to Honey Crisp to hold, and we went over to listen to her. She said …" The mare pauses and swallows. "There was nothin' they could do. Soon as their mage got too tired to keep up the life support, he'd be gone. But they'd gotten him awake to say his goodbyes."
The earth pony's jaw begins to tremble. "She said Pa wanted us to swear on our hats not to go see him. He said he didn't want our last memories of him to be of what ended him. He said he loved us an awful lot, and we were the finest ponies a stallion could've ever asked to raise, and he was real proud of us, and real sorry. He said he'd see us in the stars someday, but he hoped not for a real long time."
Flim risks a gentle hooftouch on her shoulder. "I'm glad you got to hear that."
"That ain't …" She takes a tight breath. "Ain't what your machine did. For a second, while Gran was checking on Apple Bloom and the nurse was talkin' with Mac … nopony was watchin' me. I was right next to the door. This time …" Her voice grows faint. "This time, I thought, to haybales with what Pa said, I'd be cussed if his eldest mare weren't going to be there for him. No second-guessin' this time. I snuck into the room before anypony noticed.
"He …" The mare's jaw works soundlessly.
The brothers give each other an apprehensive glance.
"H-he … was …"
Neither Flim nor Flam dare to speak. A few cubits away, a squealing colt and filly dash by, chasing each other down the midway.
She leans in to Flim and plants a light kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you," she whispers, forcing a smile.
She walks away, not looking back.
Good, good, but needs a bit more explanation.
You have reduced me to a wreck on the first chapter. It's like the inverse of The Machine Of Death. And I know I'll read more now.
1765183 Augh, that'll teach me to submit a story and then leave for the day. There were supposed to be author's notes here before readers got to it.
I did my best to give Applejack's story enough context to introduce the premise, but it's still a rough start if you're here without having read No Regrets (which 90% of my readers will have done). The Whooves chapter also gives a lot richer explanation of the machine itself, but as I mention in the author's notes, it was problematic to lead in with that chapter.
Thanks for reading and liking despite the cold start!
1767347
Bonus Machine of Death microfic:
The investors crowded around the output tray. The machine's creator had been answering their questions for hours, explaining what he knew of its workings, showing them the proof of previous tests. Now was the moment of truth: Its first test run with strangers.
The first investor stepped up and pressed the button. The printer chattered to life. He picked up the slip. "Car crash," he read. They all exchanged nervous glances. "Just in case," he said, "I think I'm walking home afterward."
"We all were driven here," one pointed out. "Shouldn't we be worried too?"
"Not if he's not in the car," one pointed out.
The second stepped up for his slip, which his trembling fingers dropped. He picked it back up. "Happy," he read. A look flashed across his face, somewhere in between confusion and relief. "What does that even mean?"
The creator shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But I'd trade you for mine in a second, if it worked that way."
"What's yours?"
"Um. For my own protection, I'd rather not say, if it's all the same to you. My apologies."
"We're talking about several millions worth of investment here. I think we have a right to know."
The creator wrung his hands. "Er. Let's take a hypothetical here. If mine had said, oh, say, 'mugged for the $100,000 he always carries in his pockets', wouldn't you agree it's tempting fate to make that public knowledge? Perhaps we can change the specific circumstances of our death, perhaps we can't … until we figure that out, I'd rather give myself what extra time I can."
"Alright, but we're not muggers," the first investor said. "What would you have to fear from us?"
"I cannot safely answer that question. I hope you understand, but if you don't, I'll seek my funding elsewhere."
"Well," the third investor said, "if he's not telling anyone his fate, neither am I." He pressed the button. The printer chattered for almost half a second before a folded slip dropped into the bin.
He raised an eyebrow, snatched it, backed away, and opened it up, inches from his nose.
His eyes widened.
He crumpled to the floor.
Amid the general panic that followed — as the ambulance was being called and the second investor was attempting CPR — the first snatched the fallen slip and read it aloud.
"Of shock," he said, "immediately upon reading this prediction."
All eyes turned to the creator.
"Well," he said. "This is awkward."
"Applebloom"
>all of my rage
1770828
This was excellent.
2217601
> Applebloom
(*checks the wiki*) Oh. Huh. Two words. Fixed!
(Don't expect me to use "Cadance" any time soon, though. Not when it's clearly a nickname for Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Pet peeve.)
> This was excellent.
This is an exceptional first chapter. I'm hooked, in less than a thousand words. Such a simple moment to change, such a little matter in the grand scheme of things, but such a critical moment for Applejack.
And I'm with Applejack; that's quite a mistake to have made, and completely sensible to want to take back.
1770828
This was hilariously disturbing. You really should submit this as a Machine of Death story for inclusion in the next volume; it's as good as many of the published stories.
1770828
Not as good as "HIV from improperly sanitized Machine of Death needle."
4438733
Well, really, few things are.
(… except not dying from HIV from an improperly sanitized HIV needle, depending on which level of abstraction at which we are discussing the story. )
That was... Neat? I dunno. I feel like I lacked context. Maybe I'll read No Regrets after I finish this off.