//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Spring Broke // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Butter Fudge’s island had not one, but two docks. One was at the east end and Copperquick had seen that one when he had first arrived. The second was on the west end and it was connected to a storage shed—garage—boathouse? Copperquick did not know what these things were called. A wagon was of limited use here and a boat was far more practical. This boat was of fair size, appeared to have some sort of strange looking motor, and was propelled by an airscrew. Far more interesting than the boat however was the sight of Buttermilk interacting with her father. They both buzzed about, flitting from one spot to another—more like hummingbirds than pegasus ponies—and they flew circles around one another in an obvious bit of fun. Copperquick envied them, wishing that he too had the freedom of movement that they both enjoyed. Crickets and frogs serenaded the arrival of evening and the cries of whippoorwills came from every direction. Fireflies skimmed over the water and drifted aimlessly over the grass. Light and soft music could be heard from the island covered in tree houses—not annoying music—but soft, pleasant music, the kind that enhanced a moment rather than took away from it. The long day of work was done, it seemed, and now, the locals were winding down for the night. “We had a billionaire visitor, Beezy.” “Moomy?” “That Mariner fellow, he came out and paid us a visit. He wanted to buy our share in the rice factory. Nice enough, I suppose, and stood right here on our dock. Had a long chat with us. He seemed pleasant enough, but he left disappointed.” “You and Daddums kept your shares?” Buttermilk asked. “I laughed him right off my property,” Butter Fudge replied as her hooves thudded against the wood of the dock. “He was a bit peeved, I think, but there is just no way that I’m selling my share in the rice factory to him. It is in our better interests to keep ownership local, but a few dunderheads did sell their shares to him. They got taken in by slick promises and fancy words, I suppose.” Intrigued, Copperquick asked, “Shares?” “The previous owner of the rice factory was a real git.” Butter Fudge’s expression became rather sour—the opposite of the sweetness her namesake promised—as if she had a bad taste in her mouth, and her tail whip-cracked from side to side. “A real git… didn’t want to pay his workers a fair wage and the quality of his product left a lot to be desired. So, a bunch of us locals banded together and made him an offer in such a way that he couldn’t tell us no…” Something about the way Butter Fudge left the sentence hanging made Copperquick’s eyebrow arch as he stepped onto the bobbing skiff. “We ran him out of town,” Butter Fudge continued, “and us locals shared ownership of the factory. I think we do a pretty good job of running it, a fair wage is paid, the rice farmers get a good price, and we sell a quality product. The rice costs a little more, which means we don’t export it to other areas, but we buy it local and that’s fine. Ponies are willing to pay a little extra for it and we’re real proud of what we have. It worked out so well that community ownership started to be established for everything. That Mariner chap, he wanted to buy up everything owned by the community and he came into town throwing his money around, trying to impress us.” Copperquick sat down, settled in, and listened to his daughter as she babbled out a nonsensical stream of gibberish. She smelled wonderful, she did, having just had a bath, and every inch of her was extra snuggly with a softness that had to be snuggled to be believed. Perhaps Butter Fudge’s soaps had something to do with the remarkable transformation. When Buttermilk sat down beside him, Copperquick was thrilled to feel her against him and he thought about leaning over and giving her a kiss… but her parents were watching. “We own a share in the movie theatre too,” Butter Fudge said as she settled herself by some controls and placed her hoof upon a short brass lever. “There’s a real nice theatre in the town proper, but it is too far away, and so we made our own. Everypony local banded together, pooled our money, and we made something out of nothing. Everypony that owns a share gets to watch for free and we have merchant’s rights, so we can sell food and goods there. And some of us do. That’s why I told you to save some room.” With a smile, Butter Fudge yanked down on the short brass lever and a hum could be heard beneath the deck planks of the skiff. The entire craft vibrated and a buzz could be heard coming from below the control panel. The motor sprang to life with a surprising quiet and the airscrew began to spin. It gained a little volume as it began to spin faster, but Copperquick was impressed by how little noise the craft made. It appeared to be entirely electric-powered, but he couldn’t be certain. Pulling on another long brass lever, the skiff shuddered to life and began moving as Butter Fudge shouted out a warning: “Hang on everypony, this boat of mine goes mighty fast!” The electric skiff moved with heart pounding speed and skimmed over the water like a skipping stone. For the second time this day Copperquick found himself traveling by skiff, and much to his own surprise, he was starting to enjoy it. The electric motor droned like an angry beehive and at speed, it had some volume to it, but it was nowhere near as loud as a coal-fired steam engine. Copperquick was grinning without realising it and Buttermilk was clinging to his foreleg. Midge buzzed alongside the skiff, expending no effort whatsoever to keep up. The night air was cool and held the promise of a chilly night. There were other boats around them, some powered by steam, others by eager pegasus ponies who strained to keep up with their mechanical competition. Overhead, an autogyro with pontoons for water landings went sputtering past, trailing a stream of sooty smoke. These ponies were all daredevils, Copperquick decided. All this going about at ridiculous, break-neck speeds. Life in Canterlot happened at a sedate pace, at least, for the most part, though Copperquick had done a lot of running during his old job. This place was spread out though, while Canterlot was not, so there was a need for speed if one wanted to get somewhere within a reasonable time. It seemed as though there were quite a few boats ahead and Copperquick saw the warm, inviting, golden glow of a great many electric lights. Trembling with anticipation, he couldn’t wait to see whatever was ahead, what wondrous creation had been built by these industrious, clever ponies who lived in the marsh. The night air was filled with the scent of popcorn, of sweet treats, and other things, spicy and savoury. The movie ‘theatre’ was an island, an open island with a collection of buildings—shacks really—and a marina for the many boats. A long metal pole was being lifted between two tall trees, and from this metal pole was a white expanse of sailcloth—the movie screen. Many ponies scurried about, helpful pegasus ponies were setting up the screen and the sound system, while earth ponies finished up last-minute preparations. It was, without a doubt, the most amazing thing that Copperquick had seen since his arrival in Manehattan's harbour.  What a sight it was—what a monument to ingenuity it was—what a stunning example of technology without magic. The warm yellow-orange glow of electric lights was dazzling to the eye and Copperquick could see an enormous projector being secured to the top of a post by a crew of capable, nimble pegasus ponies. The island itself had a gentle slope, with the screen down at the lowest point. Blankets were spread over the grassy rise and there were still many spots available. Some ponies lounged in the grass, sans blankets, and others had brought wooden folding chairs. Still others remained in their boats, with the marina having a good view of the screen. Overhead, the twinkling stars went almost unnoticed because of the astounding brilliance of the electric lights. The darkness of the night was pushed back and the island was more than a patch of earth, it was a fortress of brilliance where the darkness could find no purchase. Not just light though, no, the darkness was also held at bay with comforting sounds. An orchestra of sorts was getting set up to the right of the screen and it seemed that tonight’s feature would have a live score. “Shiny,” Esmeralda said in a voice that made her father’s ears perk. “Yes, Esme, shiny.” After a moment of consideration, Copperquick added, “Hey, that’s a new word for you. Shiny!” “Shiny,” Esmeralda said again, repeating herself. “I’ll take my victories wherever I can get them.” Pleased and proud, Copperquick’s barrel puffed out and he held his head a little higher. “Stunted development… phooey. You’ll talk when you have something to say, won’t you, Esme?” To this, Esmeralda did not respond, not with words, but her head bobbled on her neck while she looked around at the many sights to see. Angling his head a bit, Copperquick kissed her on top of her head, and then, feeling bold, he snuck in a quick peck on Buttermilk, who squeaked in startled shock. This did not go unnoticed… The skiff pulled into a spot at the marina, to a post that had a brass plaque with the number ‘32’ etched into it. Butter Fudge killed the motor completely and Midge secured the skiff to the post with a length of rope. Other watercrafts bobbed around them, some bigger, some smaller, but all of them appeared to be cobbled together and not mass produced. Each of them held no small amount of charm and were reflections of their creators. “Mighty Midge, go and find us a good spot and lay claim to it with a blanket,” Butter Fudge said to her husband. With a satisfied smile, she watched her husband grab a blanket, and waved as he departed. With a turn of her head, she faced the remaining passengers in her skiff while she powered down the console. “Don’t worry about bits… Midge and I have this. Our treat. I want this to be a magical night for the both of you.” Her brown-black mane was tossed about in the salty breeze and her eyes glittered with the reflections of the dazzling electric lights. “You kids have had a rough go at things… it’s time to be kids again for a while. Now come on, let’s go get some funnel cakes or something.” What was a Buttermilk Oddbody? It was a relatively tiny organism—cute, adorable, rather just the right size to be cuddled—and this remarkable creature was powered by common fuel sources, such as caffeine and sugar. Once properly fueled, this creature became a living explosion of energy that flitted about, her hooves seldom touching the ground as she buzzed to and fro from place to place like Equestria’s busiest—and cutest—bumble bee. At the moment, she was flying laps around Copperquick’s head as she gobbled down yet another funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar. Her muzzle was dusted with sugar, as was her mane, her cardigan, and her forelegs. More powdered sugar was sprinkled upon her like falling snow as she snipped off tiny bites with quick nips of her square, perfect teeth. Darting downward, moving with alarming speed, she smooched Esmeralda and left behind a considerable dusting of sweet, sweet, (and more than a little sticky) powdered sugar. Before the foal could even sort out what had just happened or even respond, Buttermilk was gone again, flying in tight circles around Copperquick’s head, trailing little flurries of sugar dust behind her. “I can fly!” Buttermilk cried through sugar-coated lips. “And it’s amazing! Wheeee!” “Oi, she’ll be up all night,” Butter Fudge grumbled as she watched her daughter’s dizzy circuits. Copperquick could not reply, as he had a huge bucket of buttery, cheesy popcorn held in his teeth. His head was craned off to one side so the bucket wouldn’t disturb Esmeralda, who was now rather sugary and sweet. He followed after Butter Fudge, who led the way, and his ears rotated to take in every available sound. “Once, there was a filly who dreamed that she could fly… and then, she did! And it was amazing!” There was a wry smile upon Butter Fudge’s face when she gave Copperquick a sidelong glance back over her withers. “It’s not so bad… you get used to it after a while. It’s like being in love with a hummingbird. If you can catch one, and trust me, catching them isn’t as hard as you might think, just leave something sweet lying about, but if you can catch one and hold on to it, all of that energy gets redirected elsewheres.” The mare winked one eye and then turned her head back about to see where she was going. Copperquick almost dropped his popcorn due to this revelation’s effect upon his brain. “Whee! Beezy is a breezy! Woo! Woo! Woo!” The funnel cake was gone, devoured, its remains were being licked off of Buttermilk’s lips with quick flicks of her orange tongue. “I need another! Be right back!” With a whoosh, Buttermilk was gone, leaving a sugar-scented breeze in her wake.