Anton watched as Big Mac rolled the massive wheel out of the barn, his eyes following the stone construct. As Big Mac and Applejack lowered it onto its side, he turned to Bright Mac and asked, "Remind me again what this thing is?"
"Cider Press", the stallion replied. "With harvest season startin' up, now's the best time ta start pressin' some of the apples. The stuff we plan ta sell quickly will sell like wildfire, and we can let some of it ferment until early winter."
Anton nodded, pretending to get it. "Should we at least not administer Rites before we assemble the machine?"
That drew all eyes onto him. "What does that even mean?", Applejack.
Big Mac looked at the wheel, then walked around it to examine the other parts. "It all looks alright. That what you meant?"
"What? No", Anton said. "Rites. To appease the Machine Spirit."
"Machine... Spirit?", Bright Mac asked, shifting his weight between each of his front hooves. Anton slumped slightly, sighing and bringing his hoof to his forehead. Of course these Xenos fools wouldn't have any knowledge of holy Machine Spirits. It was probably why they hadn't advanced that far technologically; their rejection of the Emperor's Light and other blasphemes meant that the Machine Spirits would reject them.
"All pieces of technology have Machine Spirits", Anton said. "From the simplest mechanism to the most complicated piece of machinery. Granted, this... What did you call it?"
"Cider Press", Bright Mac said.
"Right. Even this Cider Press should have a basic spirit", Anton said. "In order to make sure that it functions properly and smoothly, Rites and Benedictions should be offered to appease the Machine Spirit."
The three of them looked at him, interspersed with looks at one another. Anton shuffled in place, not exactly knowing what to say. His previous mentions of the Emperor had been met with minor interest or polite shifting of topic. Applejack and the Zebra were the only ones that had any real interest in Him, and he had been somewhat hesitant to go in-depth out of fear of letting something slip.
"Ah mean", Applejack said. "It couldn't hurt none."
"'Spose so. Alright, Aquila", Bright Mac said, turning to him. "What's involved?"
Anton undid his webbing, laying it down next to a stack of hay bales and walking up to the disassembled parts of the press. Most of the base was made out of wood, with a small metal slide running out of the bottom, with a small spigot which is where the cider likely came out of. An extension ran out of one side of the wheel, with a small recess in the side of it. Another part of the press was a long piece of hinged metal on a squat metal platform that vaguely reminded Anton of a Cyclops demolition vehicle, save for having one massive track as opposed to two smaller ones. A few wooden supports for both the main platform and this smaller one laid piled off to the side, while a metal trough had some connector points for the rear of the platform; likely to feed Apples into the device.
"Simple", Anton said, examining the machines moving parts. "Primitively so. But even something like this should have a spark of divinity."
"What was that?", Big Mac asked.
"Nothing", Anton said, figuring that insulting their press might wear his welcome thin. "What kind of maintenance is needed before it can be assembled?"
"We mostly settle for a quick wipe down", Bright Mac said. "We clean it off after cider season ends, so rest of tha year it's just sittin' in the back 'a the barn. If any of the wood rots or metal gets rusty we fix it up or replace it."
Anton nodded, standing back up and heading for his webbing. He began to rummage around in the pockets, telling them, "Get started with your check. I just need to find something."
After checking a few more of the thick canvas pouches, he finally removed his cleaning kit. Opening the smooth plastic case, he removed a small, clear bottle. As he closed and put the kit back in its place, he saw Big Mac look over his shoulder. "Uh, we checked. Nothin's wrong", he said. "What's that?"
"Sacred Unguent of Cleansing. I don't have any proper Sacred Oils or incense to placate the Machine Spirit. Pray he accepts this offering", Anton said, standing up and heading for the machine.
Big Mac stepped aside, a somewhat incredulous look on his face. Anton snorted, trying to ignore the stallion's blasphemy, putting his focus into the ritual. He knelt down in front of the track, removing the cap of the bottle and placing some on a nearby rag. He set the bottle down, closing the lid and examining the basic gears. It appeared that there was no automatic mechanism, which lined up with how Applejack had described making Cider to him.
He began to gingerly pad the cloth into the gears, letting the strong-smelling substance soak into the holy mechanism. As he moved along the length of the track, giving each gear careful attention as he applied the Unguent, he offered his Prayer to the machine spirit: "Let my ha-Hoof wipe the grime from your perfect form. May you perform your function without fault."
He repeated this procedure with the other moving parts of the device, applying a small amount of the holy liquid and whispering supplications to the Machine Spirits. As he did so, he looked up a few times to look at the three Apples assembled in silent audience. The stallion's expressions hadn't changed from before; Big Mac looked incredulous at his actions, while Bright Mac simply looked on with confused fascination. Applejack, meanwhile, wasn't even looking at him, her gaze focused solely on her hooves.
Finally, he stepped back and put the rag down. "There. The Spirit has been placated. Now, how do we assemble it?"
+++++~+++++
The next day, Anton had returned to find a small crowd gathered outside of Sweet Apple Acres. He had to hop over a fence to get by them, racing through the trees to reach the compound. He arrived to find Granny Smith sitting behind a small table, a transparent green visor on her head and a series of items scattered across the table. "Good mornin', Aquila! Yer just in time ta get started!"
"Right", Anton said, nodding to the crowd coming down the street. "These are the ones you sell to?"
"Wha' can ah say?", Granny said, shifting a few writing utensils and a primitive numbers cogitator around. "It's one of our most popular products! Now, go on back there; Big Mac and AJ are waitin' fer ya!"
Anton walked around the table just as various ponies made their way up to the table. Anton went over to the assembled machine, seeing Big Mac and Applejack standing next to it, a pair of goggles adorning each of their heads. "Yer just in time, Aquila!", Applejack called. "We'll run the machine. You need to make sure that Apples go in the chute and that there's always a barrel underneath the nozzle. If ya think ya can't get one under there, then tell us and close the valve."
Anton nodded. The two of them lowered their goggles and got onto the small tracked platform, now connected by another length of segmented metal plates to the grinding wheel. Before they could begin to run, however, Anton said, "May I do one last thing?"
The two siblings looked at one another, before looking back at Anton. Applejack tentatively nodded, while Big Mac just sighed and stepped over a bit.
Anton walked over to the machine, standing in between them where the two separate pieces met. He touched a hoof to each one of them, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "The soul of the Machine God surrounds you. The power of the Machine God invests you. The hate of the Machine God drives you. The Machine God endows you with life. Live!"
He took a step back, letting the siblings take up their position upon the platform. He went over to the massive crate of apples that stood next to the chute, grabbing several with his aura and putting them down the chute. As soon as they saw him do that, the two of them began to run, their speed turning the wheel and crushing the apples. Anton kept apples flowing in, looking over to make sure the first barrel hadn't filled.
Soon, that first barrel had filled, and he signaled for them to stop. "Already?", Applejack questioned, looking at the barrel filled with the frothy amber liquid. "Dang, we didn't put in that much effort. This thing is running faster than last year, huh?"
"Eeyup", Big Mac said, disbelief echoing in his voice.
Anton merely laughed. "The Machine Spirit sings. Now, let's continue. You've got... a lot of barrels."