//------------------------------// // The Brightest Apple // Story: One Bolt, Moving Forward // by Boltsinger //------------------------------// “BOLTSINGER, YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” a thick feminine drawl screamed from the foyer. Boltsinger shot out of bed, hitting his head on one of the lightning rods and falling to the floor. “I swear the baby was like that when I got there!” He deliriously yelled, standing up and getting his bearings. He calmed himself, looking out at the hallway. “Wait, what?” He made his way to the foyer, where a furious Applejack stood, her mane full of splinters and seeds, her fur all wet and sticky, and applesauce dripping off of her. “What the hay happened to you?” “Your brother’s what happened, that’s what!” She spat, stomping closer. “What kinda ‘idea pony’ goes ‘n uproots evrythin’ we do at the farm with their fancy machines? It just ain’t done, I tell ya!” “Applejack…” Boltsinger began. Applejack raised a hoof as she took another furious step towards him, but the stallion reached forward, putting his hooves on her shoulders. “Applejack, calm down!” She exhaled, glaring daggers at the Pegasus as her breathing began to ease up. Boltsinger got a sudden chill down his spine at her piercing gaze, but did his best to keep his cool. “Okay… I understand that you’re angry… Why don’t you tell me what happened… calmly… and we can figure stuff out?” Applejack took a deep, calming breath. “All right… You remember how we were havin’ issues gettin’ ready for cider season, and you said you’d bring in an ‘expert'?” Boltsinger nodded. “Well, it all started off pretty good…” Applejack trotted over to the sign at the edge of Sweet Apple Acres on a brisk fall morning. The stand for cider season had already been set up, and a massive number of tents were lined up just outside. “Wow…” she said, noting that the line went all the way into Ponyville proper. “I don’t think the line’s ever been that long…” she trotted down the line. Pinkie’s tent was, of course, first in line. She sat outside, munching on a s’more and waving at her passing friend. Many more ponies were lined up along the way, making the farm mare wonder where in the world Rainbow Dash was. “Are you kidding me?!”  came her answer. Rainbow Dash and Soarin stood outside a tent halfway down the line, the cyan mare slamming her hoof into her forehead. “How are we supposed to get any cider when Pinkie’s first in line again?! She always buys like, twenty cups worth of the stuff!” “Oh, come on, Dash, it can’t be that bad!” Soarin assured her, putting a hoof on her back. “Remember when we had the Zapapple cider? She only got as much as everyone else, then!” Rainbow Dash gave her boyfriend the flattest look she could muster. “This is your first cider season, isn’t it?” “Ain’t it obvious?” Applejack asked with a laugh. “Sorry ‘bout the long line, Rainbow. We really are workin’ hard on bringin’ up supply, I promise!” An exasperated groan left Rainbow Dash’s throat. “You literally say that every year! And there’s still never enough!” “I know! I know! An’ it’s the truth!” she stated, putting her hoof between them. “We’re workin’ as fast as we can, but ya still gotta be patient.” “You say that every year, too…” Rainbow mumbled, turning back to her tent. Applejack frowned a bit at the hopelessness in her friend’s tone. I know Dash gets like this every cider season, but she ain’t the only one with this problem… We were able to make enough that one year ‘cause o’ special circumstances, but I dunno if we can keep that kind o’ production up fer as long as it would take to get to the whole dang town… She continued down the line, many grouchy ponies all poking their heads out to catch a glimpse of her. Their faces grew more and more sour as she got closer to town, with the last face in line reminding her of an apple that only just barely started fruiting. Aw, heck! Even if we can’t get that whole mass production line we had that year again, I bet we can still get a lot more ready if we add more ponies! She hurried off towards the castle, where she knew at least two ponies would be willing to come help. “Twilight! Bolt! Y’all here?” Applejack cried out, trotting through the foyer. She could hear Twilight’s voice in the distance, but no distinct words as she ventured towards the master bedroom. “You two okay? Ya don’t sound so well…” Spike ran past the Earth Pony with a nearly sparkling bucket in his claws, looking back only briefly at her. “Twilight’s having some issues today.” Applejack cringed, remembering the last time she was over on an ‘issues’ day, and went into a gallop beside the dragon. “Well, I hope those ‘issues don’t last long! I could really use some help at… the...” She started, coming to the door. Inside the room, Spike brought the bucket to the Princess, who was in a state of sheer exhaustion on the floor with her husband sitting next to her, slowly rubbing her back and holding her mane in place. “Wow…” “Hey, Applejack. Need something?” Boltsinger asked, looking over his heaving spouse. Applejack shook her head, stepping forward and giving Twilight a comforting hoof. “Oh… Well, I was hopin’ y’all could help out makin’ the cider come out a bit faster this year, but… You got bigger concerns.” “Oh, come on… We can help out!” Twilight declared. “First you take an apple, then you smoosh it flat! Then you take all the stuff that comes out and you pour it in a glass! How hard can that be?!” Boltsinger patted Twilight on the back, causing her to hurk a few times, dragging the bucket over and letting out that which had decided to emerge. “The nausea has been making her a little… loopy. Once it's over I’m gonna make sure she eats something. Not so sure if we can help with cider this time around. Even when she wasn’t like this, she wanted to go over the things Cadence and Sparks taught her with me… Wait a minute… When does cider season actually start?” “In a couple days. But we already got most o’ Ponyville lined up outside the farm!” She answered. “Why do ya ask?” “Because I know somepony who might be able to help out!” Boltsinger stated, helping Twilight up. “I’ll send him a letter soon. He might not be great at doing the work, but I bet he can make doing the work easier!” The farmer’s eyebrow rose up, looking to cause her head to lean to one side. “What in the name o’ down-home apple pie ‘re you talkin’ about?” Boltsinger smirked as he led Twilight into the hall. “Trust me. It’ll work out fine! I promise” Applejack stood in silence for a moment, wondering who he might be talking about. “Well, okay. As long as things get done, I guess.” Boltsinger reached one of his wings back, performing a ‘thumbs up’ gesture with it. He continued through the hallway as the seemingly-tipsy Twilight raised a hoof. “~We got this to-ge-theeeeeeeer!~” “So, Bolt said he’s contacting an ‘idea pony’ to come help us out for cider season?” Apple Bloom inquired. She sat on the living room floor and thought for a moment, recalling who she might know that fits the description. “Wait, ya mean Brightling’s comin’ over?!” “I guess so.” Applejack confirmed. “But I don’t understand how his ideas are gonna make it all go faster.” “He does help out a lot at the Pear farm.” Apple Bloom noted. “Maybe he’ll bring some o' those ideas here?” “Eeyup!” Big Mac affirmed, walking past. “I don’t know… I guess I’ll give ‘em a chance…” Applejack headed to the door, taking a look outside. “But sumthin’ about this whole thing just don’t sit right.” “It might help if you gave me a chance to see what’s going on before passing judgement.” a tenor tone called from just outside. Brightling poked his head into the doorway, smiling at the family within. “Hey, Apples!” “Hey, there, Brightling!” Apple Bloom greeted, bounding up to meet him. “Hey, little filly! It’s been a while!” Brightling replied, tussling the yellow filly’s mane. “Apple Bloom, right?” “Eeyup!” Big Mac confirmed, offering his hoof. Brightling gave the red stallion a hoof bump. “Good to see you, Big Mac.” He turned to the emerald-eyed mare that was looking him over. “Which must make you the ‘Applejack’ my little brother mentioned.” He offered a friendly hoof to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Applejack finished her examination of the Pegasus, shaking his hoof. “If you can help us up our cider production, then the pleasure's all mine!” “That’s what I’m here for.” He stated, looking over at the orchard. “So, first thing’s first, let’s see how you do it now.” The stetson-toting Apple kin gave her guest a smug grin. She took a deep breath, bringing her hooves up to cup her mouth. “ALL RIGHT, APPLES! LET’S GET TO PRESSIN’!!!” She rocketed out the door, Apple Bloom quickly joining the endeavor, sending Brightling spinning until he landed on his rump. “Well, they seem excited!” He said, getting his bearings again. “Eeyup!” Big Mac replied, mozying on at a slow and steady pace with Granny Smith moving on at a similar speed. Brightling followed the family to the orchard, where several apple-filled buckets were laid out. Behind them was what he could only describe as a chute, leading to a press connected to a treadmill. He could already hear the sounds of trees taking hard bucks as Granny Smith began sorting through the apples already in place. She would toss most of them into the chute, but there were always a few that she would toss to the side. Brightling made his way to the end of the chute, where Big Mac ran on the treadmill to work the press, the juice inside flowing through a faucet into a large barrel. This went on for several minutes, Applejack and Apple Bloom adding more apples to the stack in front of their grandmother as they proceeded to fill five barrels to the brim, Big Mac replacing them carefully each time. Brightling took a hard look at the process, seeing the sense behind it and bringing images forward in his mind. “I like your system.” He told them, stepping over to Granny Smith. “Efficient, while not compromising the quality.” Granny Smith stood up, puffing herself up with pride. “Well that’s the idea, ain’t it? If it ain’t the best darned cider ya ever did have, it ain’t Apple family cider!” “I’ll take your word for it for now.” He said, looking up at the chute. “Do you think it might be possible to make another one of these? Maybe a lighter version you could move around?” “Why would we need to do that?” Applejack asked, approaching from amidst the trees. “I was thinking that, maybe, you could have one of these that you could put under a tree.“ he elaborated, examining further. “Then you buck the tree, apples fall into a scoop at one end, then they roll down the chute straight to Granny Smith.” “That would mean I wouldn’t have to carry those buckets on my head!” Apple Bloom reasoned. “I could get involved with buckin’ the trees so that it all goes faster! “That’s what I was thinking.” the yellow stallion confirmed. He turned around and made for the press. “So, Big Mac, do you have to be the one doing all this running?” “Eeyup.” He said with a nod. “You don’t, say, have something else that can move the millstone?” “Nnope.” “Do you have animals on the farm?” “Eeyup.” Brightling smirked. “Got pigs?” “Eeyup!” “They hungry?” “Oh yeah!” “Well, then, I have an idea!” Brightling rubbed his wings together, a bright smile forming on his muzzle as he sprinted into the house. “Whatever idea he’s workin’ on, I hope it’s as good as Bolt says…” Applejack muttered, looking at the family members that surrounded her. The following morning, the Apple Family was nothing short of muddled at what they saw before them. The press was set in place, the chute leading to it as always. But there was something… different. The squealing pigs were one part of it, along with the other chute that had been placed. “What in tarnation are ya tryin’ to do, Brightling?” Applejack asked. “And… what exactly are ya doin’ with those pigs?” Brightling perked up, standing next to Applejack. “They’re gonna be doing Big Mac’s pressing job.” “An’ how do you expect ‘em to do that?” she inquired, giving him a stern look. “Tie some food to a stick an’ hang it in front of ‘em?” Brightling giggled, holding a pair of sticks with pie tins tied to one end. “Actually…” Applejack facehoofed. “And what exactly is Big Mac gonna do?” “Two sets of eyes ‘re better ‘n one!” Granny Smith pointed out. “Y’all’ve been doin’ this get so long any of ya can pick out the best apples at a glance, now!” “And pilin’ the barrels?” “I can handle a buncha barrels, no sweat!” Apple Bloom said, doing some practice bucks. “And I can help with buckin’ at the same time!” A flash of concern crossed Applejack’s face as she looked between her little sister and the trees ahead. “You sure you can handle all that?” “No problem!” the filly assured her. “So that extra chute is for…” Applejack started, pointing at the new apparatus. “Set it up under a tree and then it goes straight to Granny Smith and Big Mac!” He finished. He walked over to it, picking up one of the supports and dragging it along. The chute seemed to accordion out, extending to approximately twice the original length. He brought it to a tree, where the scoop at the end seemed to wrap around under the fruit. “Like this!” He balled up his wing and punched the tree, causing its fruit to fall in and funnel over to a spot not too far away from the other chute. “Give or take some distance. Still working that out.” “Okay, then, let’s give this a try…” Applejack finally said, trotting over to the trees. Brightling nodded, taking Big Mac along to get the pigs set up. He took a position not far from Granny Smith as the pigs began running in place.”All right, let’s do this!” He shouted. Instantly, he could see the new collection chute moving to another tree with a hard buck sounding soon after. A steady supply of apples flowed down, landing not far from the ponies doing the sorting. From there, the pig-powered press did its work, squeezing out fresh cider into a nearby barrel. Brightling smiled at the expedited process, the barrels filling in half of the time as before. And then the press stopped. A loud squeal came forth, sending Applejack running to check on the pigs. Her face went stern as she spotted a number of vampire fruit bats flying around the pie tins, slurping and spitting as they do while the pigs squealed and panicked. The bats turned to the pigs, spitting seeds at them and sending them running. Applejack took off after them in an instant. “All Apples, front ‘n center! We got some wranglin’ to do!” She cried, catching up to the pigs with Apple Bloom and Big Mac now close behind. The bats flew behind them, swooping down and scarfing down as many of the fruits as they could and spitting the seeds at the ponies. They dodged to the best of their ability, weaving back and forth as they closed in on the somehow-speedy swine. Applejack centered her focus, accelerating to the point of making a giant leap that overtook the animals. She looked back, seeing her siblings take a place on either side of them. She veered to one side, Big Mac and Apple Bloom directing the pigs to follow until they made a full U-turn. The dodging continued all the while as Applejack turned around, running backwards to see how things were. She directed her siblings to take the pigs back to the farm, turning back around as a sharp pain hit her in the back of the neck. She cried out, losing her balance and tumbling into the barrels of cider, which fell on top of her and broke into pieces. All the while, the bats continued their bombardment, dropping the drained apples in her vicinity at the same time. “I’ve got your back!” Brightling shouted, charging forward and skidding in front of the farm mare. He planted his hooves, spreading his wings wide. With a single flap, the bats went flying, eventually righting themselves and returning to their part of the orchard. Brightling turned around, offering his hoof to Applejack. “You okay?” “I’m fine… just a little beat up, is all.” she told him, standing up and looking at the giant mess before her. All that good cider, ruined... “Great! So you’re good to go again?” he put his wing to his muzzle. “I’ve got some ideas for how we might improve it next time around...” “Next time?” she growled, getting up in his face. “You wanna have a ‘next time’?! Y’all weren’t any help this time! Bolt was busy singin’ yer praises about how you’d make it all go faster ‘n easier, but all you’ve managed to ‘make’ is a mess!” She gestured to the pool of cider she stood in, surrounded by splinters. Brightling stepped back defensively. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to help out! I didn’t know this was going to happen, honest!” Applejack fumed further, poking his chest with her hoof. “We had a perfect system goin’, and you went ‘n mucked it all up with yer fancy ideas! Now why don’tcha listen ta my idea and just get on outta here!” “Applejack!” Granny Smith shouted. “Is that really how ya treat somepony who came from so far away just ta help us out?!” “But, Granny, look at what happened to the cider!” She argued. Granny Smith scoffed. “Accidents happen! Ya can’t just blame it on one pony when he didn’t do nuthin’ wrong!” “But… I…” Applejack stuttered, looking between her grandmother and her guest. “What about tradition? We had things workin’ perfectly!” She stepped back, receiving no response from them. “Aww… Horseapples!” She turned around, galloping off. “And that’s when you came here to complain to me.” Boltsinger stated. Applejack nodded. “I was hopin’ I’d get yer help talkin’ with everypony, seein’ as you know Brightling best, an’ all.” “How do you think I’d be able to help?” he wondered. “From the sound of it, Granny Smith knew what she was talking about.” “Whaddaya mean by that?” The Apple asked. “I mean that you’ve been stubborn the whole time.” He explained. “You didn’t want his input in the first place, did you?” “Well… Yeah. He wasn’t makin’ all that much sense with some o' his ideas.” she admitted, averting her gaze. “He was messin’ with tradition, how we do things! An’ all it led to was a big fat mess with a big load o' ruined cider!” “On the first try, yes!” the blue-maned Pegasus retorted. “When was the last time you tried something new and did it flawlessly the first time?” “Well, I… Ya see…” she rambled on for a moment, trying to come up with a response. “There was that time that I… No, that don’t work…” She breathed a heavy sigh. “Okay, I got nuthin'! Happy now?” Boltsinger smirked. “Mildly. Besides, Brightling would never try to break up your traditions. He’s an innovator, not an intruder.” He lifted Applejack’s sopping and sticky bangs with his wing. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, then we head over to the farm? See about giving that ‘next time’ a shot.” “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” she agreed, walking with him into the castle proper. Brightling looked over his work one more time. “So, the pigs were distracted by the bats this time, so maybe don’t fill the tins with fruit… But they could get distracted some other way, too…” He lit up with an idea. “Blinders! They only see what’s ahead!” He looked over at the chute he had set up before. “And then there’s that… How do we make sure the apples get to sorting faster?” “How ‘bout ya have ‘em fall in a wheelbarrow, then I can rush ‘em over lickity-split?” a drawling mare suggested. Brightling followed the sound of the voice, seeing Applejack and his own younger sibling making their approach. “I thought you didn’t want my help…” “Well, at first I didn’t, but I took some time… and a shower… to think about it, and…” she removed her hat, holding it over her heart. “It just wasn’t good o’ me to treat you the way I did. Granny Smith was right. Yer only here to help, and I was too stubborn about keepin’ things traditional to really give it a shot. Will you accept my apology?” Brightling glanced over at his brother, who nodded with a smile, then eyed Applejack again. “Perhaps. On one condition.” “Name it.” Applejack replied. The yellow Pegasus flashed a smile. “I get to have some cider. The way you make it, no matter how long it takes.” “You got yerself a deal!” she affirmed, swinging her foreleg in front of her. “Now, let’s get to it!” She trotted over to the barn, intent on finding the aforementioned wheelbarrow. Brightling turned his attention back to his now-approaching brother. “So, what did you do?” Boltsinger tilted his head. “What do you mean?” “You know what I mean.” the elder brother said, nudging his brother with his wing. “How did you get her to ease up and apologize?” “I didn’t do anything.” he told him. “She told me what happened, and I talked to her. She’s pretty reasonable once you hear her out, you know.” “Whatever you say, little brother.” Brightling finished, making for the barn. “If you don’t wanna tell me, I’ll just find out from somepony else.” Boltsinger’s brow furrowed at the comment, causing him to leap over and catch up with his sibling. “I just told you! I seriously didn’t do anything!” The line had finally shrunken down. Hours ago, Pinkie had walked past with more mugs of fresh cider than was logical for one Earth Pony to hold, and yet it kept moving. Rainbow Dash was astounded by this fact alone. As they stepped forward again, curiosity hit, and she jumped into the air to see just what was making it all move so fast. “What the…” she started as her mouth began to hang open. Piled high over the trees was a veritable pyramid of barrels, only slightly disassembled from the day’s events. She looked to see if there was a more realistic stack of full barrels, but the only other pile she did find was nothing but obviously empty containers. “How are they gonna get through all that in just one day?!” She came to a landing next to Soarin, digging her wallet out of her mane and looking inside. “I think I know how…!” “What’s up? Is there a lot of it?” Soarin asked. Rainbow couldn’t hold in the sheer joy she felt from the anticipation as she gave off a loud guffaw. “You have no idea! Oh, this is gonna be great!”