Gearrick made his way through the revolving door of the hotel, checking the clock over the check-in desk with a yawn. Seven in the morning was well outside his usual operating hours, but this was a special case. He'd already been up all night, so he figured he might as well do something to keep himself occupied before the festival started up for the day.
Making his way to the check-in, he mentally prepared himself as the pony behind the desk fixed him with a way-too-chipper smile.
Uh oh, a morning pony...
"Mornin' sir!" the young mare chimed cheerfully, clearly on somewhere between three and four cups of coffee.
"Good morning," Gearrick replied, putting his tired side underneath a comfortable layer of calm and politeness. "I'm looking for one of the guests staying here for the festival. Do you have a miss Twilight Sparkle on the roster?" he asked, his usual attitude working its way back into place despite his all-nighter.
"Hang on, let me check," the young lady replied, flipping through the registration booklet and running a hoof down each page as she read.
"Yes sir, here she is! She's in room 516. Would you like me to call the room for you?" she asked pleasantly, closing the booklet.
"No, that won't be necessary," he replied with a chuckle, smirking mischievously. "Thanks for the help," he finished, nodding to the lady behind the counter and making his way toward the elevator.
"No problem!" she called back, waving as he departed.
Gearrick sighed as the doors shut, breaking him away at last from the overly-energetic creature outside.
"Morning ponies..." he grumbled, punching the button for the fifth floor.
Twilight rubbed at her eyes as something outside her room tapped lightly on the door. She felt like hell, and her mane was hanging around at the edges of her vision, a clear sign that it was messy, as usual in the morning.
The knocking stopped, leaving her tired mind unsure if she had just imagined it or not. With a grumble she wiggled back into the blankets, closing her eyes again and hoping that whoever it was wasn't actually there.
The knocking started up again, this time a little louder. It was now apparently and unfortunately real, and so with a groan Twilight rolled out of bed, blinking as she waited for the head-rush to subside. She didn't get hangovers often enough to handle them well, but she sure as hell knew when she had one.
"Room service!" came a call from the door.
"I didn't even order room service..." she muttered, head hanging tiredly as she made her way over to the door. Her entire plan consisted of telling whoever it was they had the wrong room and going back to bed. She didn't even have to check the clock to know there was still a little time before the second stage of the festival that she could be sleeping, which wasn't improving her already hangover-soured mood.
Yawning, she opened the door, not caring how she looked. It would take her all of five seconds to tell the hotel staffpony to get lost, so what was the point--
Her heart rate spiked like mad and her eyes shot wide as she saw the last thing she had expected; Gearrick Tinkermane, smirking and standing on her doorstep. Time froze for several awkward moments where she just stood there looking at him wide eyed, mouth hanging open in preparation to tell him she hadn't ordered room service, but those words didn't exactly apply anymore.
Panic finally caught up with her as she realized she looked absolutely miserable and was in no kind of state to be seen by any stallion, particularly this one. So, with all the grace of a true lady, she slammed the door in his face, putting her back to it as her breathlessness gave way at last, leaving her gasping for air on the other side of that feeble wooden barrier.
What was he doing here? Did he even know what time it was? Oh Celestia, she looked like a wreck, all hangovered, her mane sleep-frazzled. 'Hangovered' wasn't even a word, but it made about as much sense as anything else going on in her head.
"What the heck?" she whispered to herself, doing her best to calm down despite the fact that her 'midnight dating fantasy' stallion was out there. After everything that had run through her head the night before, things were far more out of hoof than they needed to be in her own mind.
"Good morning to you, too," came a calm, joking remark from the other side of the door. "Mind opening the door? I didn't mean to surprise you that badly. I guess the room service thing was a little too far, huh?" he chuckled, clearly not even close to as distressed as Twilight.
Open the door? What was he, crazy...?
Right.
Twilight took a few moments to gather her nerves and get over her reaction. She contemplated telling him to wait a minute while she straightened herself out, but she didn't know how long that would really take. As awkward as it was for her to be seen like this, she didn't want to leave him just standing in the hallway talking at her door. With a resigned sigh, she slowly pulled it open, standing to the side and doing her best to put off being seen again for as long as possible.
Gearrick walked in, a puzzled expression on his face as he inched around the door while Twilight shut it, not making eye contact with him and face flushed from embarrassment.
"Hey, something wrong?" he asked, unaware that he now had her cornered and completely oblivious to her distress.
She finally faced him, wincing in preparation for his reaction.
He just laughed as he caught her wince, but not mockingly. Just his usual, warm laugh. "Oh, I get it, you've got a headache. Sorry if I woke you up, but it's not long before the festival starts."
Twilight's brain stalled as she processed that. First off, he was right about the headache. Secondly, did he not see the explosion of hair she knew she was wearing?
"No, no, it's fine... I must look like a wreck," she muttered, closing her eyes as she sighed. They snapped back open as some very unexpected words met her ears.
"You kidding? You look great. I mean, your mane is a little messy, but it doesn't look bad," he said with a chuckle. "You should see mine in the morning," he called over his shoulder, walking further into the room.
Twilight followed, unconsciously brushing a hoof through her mane as she did so, a slight pink tint on her cheeks. She looked great? Doubtful, but she couldn't argue the good feeling it brought her to hear that, and his tone had been so sincere.
"S-so, what's the occasion?" she asked, clearing her throat as she caught back up with the times.
"Well, I figured since I come pretty close by here anyways on my way to Central Square, I'd pick you up," he explained casually, sitting in the chair by her window. "I'll admit I had kind of hoped you were already awake," he said with an embarrassed sigh of his own. "Now I just feel bad... The last thing you needed after a long night of drinking was somepony pounding on your door, huh?"
"Well you definitely startled me," she admitted, a sense of normalcy finally starting to creep in. "But don't worry about it. It's really nice of you to offer to pick me up."
"What are friends for?" he asked with a small laugh.
Twilight smiled, sensing a stark similarity to her own words from the night before. "Well, I appreciate it, but..." she began, flushing as she continued, "do you mind waiting for me in the lobby? I still need to get ready..."
Gearrick, who had been reclining lazily in the chair, went stock stiff, eyes wide with shock. "Ah shit, I didn't even think of that..." he groaned, his own face turning red from embarrassment as he slapped a hoof up to it. He got up out of the chair quickly, heading for the door. "I am so, so sorry. I'll, um... I'll be waiting downstairs," he said hastily, giving her a sheepish smile as he departed, shutting the door behind him.
Twilight couldn't resist a small laugh at his expense as she shook her head, making her way towards the shower. "What a strange guy..."
"Seriously, it's fine. If you hadn't come by, I probably would have slept through the alarm," Twilight admitted, trying her best to set Gearrick's worries aside. After the awkward departure from her hotel room, he had apologized at least three times for bothering her that morning. The two of them had gotten on the road shortly afterward.
Things were more or less back to normal again, particularly her mane. After getting to the mirror she had been happy to find it hadn't been nearly as destroyed as she thought it was. She still felt embarrassed by her reaction, but Gearrick hadn't mentioned it, so she had just chalked it up to being half-awake, and let it go at that.
The reality was a little more tightly tied to her heart, but she wasn't in any hurry to revisit her thoughts from the night before with him sitting right in the seat across from her.
"I should have swung by later in the morning..." she heard him mutter, causing her to smile. He really did feel bad about waking her up, but in a way she thought it was sweet. It was obvious that he hadn't given the act any real forethought, that he had simply just done it. The fact that it had come so easily to him to swing by first thing in the morning gave her a warm feeling.
Just one of a large number of warm feelings that she didn't have a good grasp on lately.
"Have you had breakfast yet?" Twilight asked, thinking that moving the conversation along to something more present would be better for the both of them.
"Not yet. The city hosts breakfast every morning of the festival for the engineers, since they're supposed to show up for each event before it starts for the day," he replied with a small smile. "And since I don't really have a kitchen back at the workshop, it's easier on me to eat what they make. Plus it's probably better than hotel food, so we both win," he said with a laugh.
Twilight smiled as he made light of his less-than-stellar living situation. "Sounds good to me. So what kind of things are involved in stage two?"
Gearrick didn't answer her question immediately as he focused on the road, the Nomad taking the narrow corner slowly. "Sorry, eyes on the road and such. For most of the engineers it involves them supplying some kind of object for the demonstration. For example, the lifting machine will probably just... lift something heavy. Not very technical, I guess, but it's pretty straightforward for most inventions," he said, trailing off as he realized he'd just mentioned the machine Twilight now suspected to be a time-bomb.
"The lifting machine..." she repeated, her gaze shifting to one of concern.
"Right, I kind of forgot that was a touchy subject," he replied with a sigh, shaking his head. "Smooth, Gearrick..." he muttered to himself, too quietly for Twilight to hear. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine. I already notified the officials, so they'll keep a close eye on his demonstration and stop it if anything happens."
His tone sounded warm enough, but something about what he was saying made Twilight uneasy. He spoke the words just fine, but he was pointedly looking away from her. She wanted to question him on it, but didn't know where to begin without seeming rude.
"You're sure it will be fine?" she asked quietly, watching his face carefully to better judge the truth.
"Trust me," he said, turning away from the road just long enough to flash her a confident smirk.
Twilight sighed in relief. Something still didn't feel right, like he hadn't told the whole truth. But she could tell he wasn't lying outright, that he really believed everything would turn out. "I trust you. You're the best tinker I know," she teased, knowing that his sense of humor would easily follow up on her joke.
"I'm the only tinker you know," he corrected, just as she had expected. The two of them shared a laugh over it, and afterward Twilight let a comfortable silence drift between them as Gearrick drove, and she thought.
They got along so well. At times Gearrick was so easy to predict, and at others completely incomprehensible. It seemed strange to feel so normal around somepony she hardly knew, yet at the same time she felt like she had already known him a long time. They had a lot in common, especially in the social aspect. He reminded her of herself seven years ago, when she had first moved to Ponyville to make friends.
"Friends, huh? You know, I never had very many."
His words from last night came back to her as she watched him drive. They had been so bleak, yet he had said them so casually. It worried her to think that his move to Manehattan hadn't been like hers to Ponyville. He had come here looking for opportunity, and perhaps companionship, and of the two he hadn't really found either, it seemed. Between his failed quest to join the Gearbox Guild and living in a city that barely knew him beyond his name, it was hardly surprising.
Even so, he seemed to always be on the verge of smiling. As if somehow everything were still right, despite what Twilight knew was in his past. Just one day wasn't enough for her to decide if it was sincere, or just good acting, but he didn't seem depressed in his situation. Whichever the case, both were forms of strength; hiding distress and conquering it were different, yet both shared a common cause. It would take time to know for sure, she knew.
Time. She smiled to herself as she watched the goggles around his neck swing gently due to the force of a turn, the acceleration afterwards forcing him back into his seat slightly. She liked spending time with him, liked being around him. Even if she couldn't put words to all the reasons why, the feeling of being around him made her content. There was still so much to discover about him, and if all it took was time, Twilight had plenty to spare.
"Hey, you there?" she heard him call, a tan-coated leg waving in front of her face.
She shook her head, clearing her deep thoughts out and coming back to reality. She realized now that they had stopped in Central Square, and that Gearrick was the first contestant to arrive. "Sorry, I was just thinking," she replied, smiling sheepishly at him, and hoping he wouldn't ask what about.
"Hey, don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time; it's the sign of a strong mind," he chuckled, popping his door open and leaving a very relieved Twilight to get her own. "Heck, maybe you'd make a good tinker."
"You think so?" she asked, fiddling with her door as she tried to locate the button for it. After a few more seconds of searching she finally opened it, hopping out.
"Then again..." he teased, smirking all the while as she struggled with her door.
"Oh, thanks," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Another shared laugh followed, her smile lingering well after the moment had passed.
"Come on, let's go get something to eat," he urged, scowling and nudging her in the direction of city hall. "I'm hungry, and you're holding up progress."
Twilight couldn't help but laugh as she did as she was told, heading for city hall.
The tall, slim stallion with the horseshoe magnet cutie mark watched all of the morning's speeches and political nonsense with a notable disinterest. Being required to sit on the city's governing board was just one of the many 'perks' his position offered him. He never had cared for most of the drivel, but if one listened carefully enough opportunity could be found anywhere.
Like this contest, for example. It had been his idea to begin with, after all. The guild had sponsored the very first Steamtech Festival personally, since the city had had its doubts about his scheme. But, after the increased revenue from tourism, the greedy bit-biters had hopped on his wagon soon enough.
Between the increase in food sales, hotel board-rates, and any other number of items the city considered to be taxable, the profits of such a large contest like this were well worth the effort put into hosting it. Not to mention that the entry and admittance fees for viewers all but covered the prizes offered.
The stallion smiled. Good for the city's business, and good for his. After all, the contest was his invention, and he knew how it worked better than anypony. Ponies were much like machines; greasing hooves and greasing gears were equally simple, and just as effective as one another. The prizes almost always came back to the guild, since a guild member almost always won.
Almost.
And the Gearbox Guild almost always bought the rights to the private entries, or at least those worth buying.
Almost.
The slender stallion glared out the corners of his eyes at the booth to the stage's right, his golden coat ruffling as his brow scowled beneath his backswept salt-and-pepper mane. Almost, because of that rascal. The hardest part about the contest was always dealing with the out-of-towners like Gearrick Tinkermane. Which was precisely the problem in the previous contest.
There was no out-of-towner like Gearrick Tinkermane. All of the equations for moderating the entries, determining the outcomes of the second and third stages... All of it hinged on certain key factors. The visiting engineer had to be many things for the Gearbox Guild's methods to prove truly effective.
Gearrick was many things, and none of the right ones, it seemed.
He had not had a plan in place to deal with the youngster at the time, for he had fully expected his failure in the second stage. By then it had been too late to plan around him. The contest could never be truly rigged, not without his efforts being discovered. The best that he could do was nudge it in his favor, take calculated steps to get the outcome he most desired. But he would not underestimate the young tinker again.
He was now a part of the plan; just another unknown number on the board. One to be subtracted.
The opening speech for the day finally finished to a chorus of cheering, and the golden-coated stallion sighed, letting it all go. So there was a variable to be solved for. A simple enough problem, especially when all of the other factors were known. He would find a way to handle that young upstart, no matter how functional his invention might prove to be. This time, he was accounted for.
As the officials shuffled around, all hoping for good seats to watch the second stage, a rather pretty looking silver-and-black earth pony made her way quietly onto the stage, her midnight blue mane and tail swishing in her wake, the lock-and-key cutie mark swaying gracefully on her flank. She was clearly no city official, but the golden-coated stallion recognized her all the same.
"Mr. Magnet," she greeted evenly, her eyes and tone both seeming disinterested.
Mick Magnet, head of the Gearbox Guild, smiled in return to her less-than-enthusiastic greeting. "Good morning, Phyla. I trust you've had a busy week so far?"
"If you're referring to the 'accident', yes. It's been taken care of, though I wouldn't say it has been eventful yet," she replied idly, not even reacting to his return scowl.
Mick calmed himself, sighing. This was just how Phyla was; a purely calculating mind, with no sense of tact. But at least she was talking to him in a setting where nopony would hear her. "Yes, that. It will be eventful, won't it?" he asked, letting some of his frustration with her forwardness bleed through.
"We cover our agreements," she said simply.
"Good. You know how I hate mistakes," Mick said quietly, giving Phyla a calm smile.
She looked him over with emotionless eyes, never returning his smile. "Mistakes like Gearrick Tinkermane?"
Mick's smile shrank immediately, and anger flared in his eyes for just a split second before he regained control. He sighed and closed his eyes, to better prevent the sight of Phyla's cold expression from bothering him further.
"Yes... Mistakes like Mr. Tinkermane," he replied slowly.
"Our fee for dealing with him is triple," Phyla said suddenly.
Mick glared at her, his voice dropping into a low, hissing whisper to avoid shouting. "Triple?"
"Triple," she replied, not backing down an inch even as the tall stallion's hot, angry breath brushed against her muzzle, his face pressed threateningly close. "He is the only one that you are unsure of handling without us, isn't he? You do not need us for the other jobs. In those situations, we are only convenient. But when the time comes to deal with Mr. Tinkermane, who else would you trust to handle it?" she asked, her tone remaining calm all throughout.
Mick sighed once more, backing off from her. As he calmed, his smile came back at last. "You're too smart for your own good, Phyla," he said, turning to look out over the first invention being tested for the day.
"And?" she replied curtly, still not having received the answer she desired.
Mick's smile only widened as he watched the first demonstration of the morning commence, the machine consuming a cloud to power several lamps. She was right; only Gearrick was of any real concern in his equation.
"Very well... Triple," he said at length, shooting her a glance. "But not yet."
"A pleasure doing business with you," Phyla replied shortly, turning and striding from the stage, vanishing into the crowd.
Mick's smile remained even through his sigh, one of satisfaction. "And what a pleasure it will be."
Soon. Only one entry left between now and the Nomad's testing phase. Gearrick sighed as his turn approached minute by minute, more than prepared for the ridicule he had received the previous year at this stage in the contest. His ideas weren't easy for those who hadn't built the machine to understand, he knew. They might jeer, laugh at him, but in the end the only way to correct their ignorance was to prove them wrong.
At the same time, he needed to prove himself right. He had faith in his own skill, in the Nomad, but it had never been tested before. The majority of the machine was theory, and what little had been shown was only a tenth of its total purpose at the most. Inside the city, the vehicle wasn't worth anything. It wasn't meant to be confined to streets, or pressed in between buildings. The spirit of this machine was something different.
If the metal could breathe, if the Nomad had a soul, then it would be consumed with wanderlust, Gearrick knew. It would be difficult to prove to anyone in this place how valuable it was. He had known that while building it, known that there were few who would truly respect it. Even fewer who would respect him for building such a thing. No doubt a housewife would much rather have a new steam-powered washing machine. A business stallion would prefer a paper-sorter, or a banker might desire an electric bit-counter.
But this wasn't about what they wanted. This machine could revolutionize the world of travel, even if they couldn't see it. And even if they couldn't appreciate it, Gearrick loved it. His heart was in this machine as much as it had ever been in anything, and it didn't matter how much they spited his claims to its ability. In the end, they simply couldn't see past the sky scrapers, into the larger world where the Nomad was truly remarkable.
He used those thoughts to steady his resolve and bring his focus back to reality as the lifting machine prepared its demonstration, the last before his own. This needed his attention. The lifting machine's success or failure was as much in his hooves as those of its inventor, though none would ever know it.
He picked Twilight out of the crowd easily, for she had stayed closer to his booth for the day's events than the day before. After breakfast, and letting her hangover wear off a bit, he had encouraged her to wander around and talk to some of the other inventors. Though after doing so she had come right back, which pleased him more than he had expected. Friends had always been hard to find, but he never expected them to be so hard to get rid of, and he was very grateful for that.
He chuckled to himself as she wandered through the crowd. Even though she made an effort to stay near the booth when she could, her intellect wouldn't allow her to miss a thing in the contest. Gearrick admired and respected that, but he noted that with this particular demonstration she seemed reluctant to go very close, unlike the others.
He couldn't imagine why.
"Well, I wouldn't trust me either unless I had to," he said to himself with a sigh. "Then again, she doesn't know what I know. I guess in a way she's much like anypony else; seeing is believing," he admitted with a small smile. He wasn't even sure of his fix to that machine himself, but he was willing to wager it was safer now than it had been, even with a midnight quick-fix like that.
He could just barely make out the worried expression on her face as she looked over her shoulder at him. Gearrick chuckled to himself as she turned away quickly, clearly not having meant to look his way on purpose, and flustered to find him looking back at her.
"Don't worry, Twilight. You'll see," he said quietly to himself, watching as the tinker responsible began his monologue for the day. As he had expected, a hefty box from the riverside shipping region of the city had been brought in for this demonstration.
Gearrick watched as the engineer maneuvered the lifter's functional end under the box. All in all, he had to admit that the machine was well made, and likely it would become patented shortly after the contest, assuming one simple thing...
His heart sped up slightly as the machine began to move, venting a puff of steam and inching the hefty box off the ground. A quick glance at Twilight showed her worry keenly as well, for she was standing stock still and staring wide-eyed.
Gearrick sighed in relief as cheers went up, the machine lifting the heavy box several feet off the ground with no issue. He had kept his eyes squarely fixed on where he had repaired the weld, and had not seen a single wisp of steam, though he doubted he could have caught anything at this distance anyways. He watched with satisfaction as Twilight relaxed too, bringing a slight smile to his face.
There was always a short break between the demonstrations, so that the previous tinker could return his equipment to his booth and such, as well as for the next in line to make preparations, and so the tinker with the lifting machine began his return trip to his booth.
Gearrick mentally prepared himself as the inventor of the lifting machine, who occupied the only adjacent booth to his, returned with a smug look on his face. He had to mentally resist the urge to roll his eyes as he approached, and he could guess well enough what kind of conversation he was about to have.
"Ya see, kid?" the older stallion said snidely. "I told ya, she works fine. Maybe that'll teach ya to keep your nose out of other ponies' tinkerin', eh?" he finished, smirking as if he'd somehow conquered the world before walking off to his booth, festival staff moving the invention back into place for him.
"I suppose you were right after all," Gearrick replied evenly, strongly resisting the urge to explain that sticking his nose into his tinkering had likely saved the arrogant bastard's life. "I shouldn't have said anything."
But I still would have done something.
"You're damn right," he huffed over his shoulder, and Gearrick couldn't help but smile. Once again, nopony would ever know what he knew. With a hefty sigh and a chuckle of disbelief, he finally let it go. Just in time, too, as Twilight made her way back over.
"Well, you were right," she chimed cheerfully, giving him a warm smile.
"Well of course. I'm the best tinker you know, remember?" he asked, smiling at the irony.
"You're the only tinker I know," she replied, not missing a beat. "Anyways, you're next, right? How are you going to demonstrate the Nomad in a place like this?" she asked, giving him a confused look.
To which he responded with a confident smirk. "I'm not."
"What do you mean you're not? How do you expect to win without demonstrating it?" she asked, slight agitation in her tone.
"I meant I'm not demonstrating it here," he clarified, chuckling. "Unless they want me to climb a skyscraper with it, though I can't promise the building would survive the treatment it would get from the Nomad."
"Then what are you going to do?" she asked, clearly confused. "I highly doubt the city would let you do anything like that anyways."
"You'll see," Gearrick replied vaguely, smiling as he physically watched the curiosity get the better of her, her hooves kneading the ground in front of her as she bit back any further questions. "What's the matter? Don't trust me?" he asked sarcastically, giving her a smile to show that he was teasing.
She sighed, and even managed to relax a bit at that. After the fiasco with the lifting machine, and more accurately his being correct about it, that was an argument she couldn't hope to win, he knew.
"That's not fair," she grumbled, fixing him with a scowl.
"Well, if you want a good seat for the show, get as far to the west end of the festival as you can," he said with a small smile.
After a moment longer, she finally gave up her scowling and just sighed. "Fine, but it had better be worth it. You're driving me crazy, I hope you know," she muttered, wandering off towards the west end like he had asked.
"What are friends for?" he called after her, and he had the satisfaction of watching the corners of her mouth turn up before she vanished from sight.
Mick ground his teeth, furious. Phyla had lied to him! The lifting machine was functioning perfectly, as near as he could tell, and that was certainly not part of their arrangement.
This was not good. Though the machine wasn't a particularly masterful mechanical work, it was owned by an out-of-towner, so it was in line to be removed from the contest. Half of the reason the Gearbox Guild even provided workshops for out-of-towners during the festival was so that they could handle contest rigging more subtly. The fools from outside the city usually just took it as a gesture of good will and never looked into it.
The Gearbox Guild was a professional and licensed organization. They would never be involved in shady business like 'modifying' contest entries.
Normally the process worked, and eliminating those not of the guild was a simple matter. A few others, such as Gearrick, would find ways to store their works in locations not owned by the guild, and those became more difficult, and were usually handled in stage three. But this had been a simple job, in one of his own warehouses.
Mick puzzled over that. Phyla had never failed him before, and she had just assured this particular incident was taken care of. It was possible that the engineer had noticed whatever changes she had made, but Mick found that unlikely.
He had given Phyla specific instructions to subtly alter the machine the night directly before the contest began. In that case the engineer had usually already completed any preliminary testing, he wouldn't have had any reason to recheck the machine. It was the safest bet, and generally foolproof.
Something didn't add up.
Mick Magnet glared, a hoof to his chin as he watched the tinker with the lifting machine return to his booth. He must have found the change Phyla had made by chance. There was no other explanation.
He hated chance.
Gearrick steeled himself as the spokespony cleared her throat on stage, even going so far as to close his eyes and let out a deep breath. "No matter what they say..." he said quietly to himself, doing his best to calm his nerves. This was the most possible opportunity for failure, the second stage his greatest cause for worry. Confident as he always tried to seem to others, he couldn't deny the fear of failing.
"Ladies and gentlecolts, our final demonstration for the day... Gearrick Tinkermane, and the Nomad!" she called.
No matter what they say.
He opened his eyes slowly, one final sigh readying him for what he expected to see: scowling faces, skeptical looks. Instead he was greeted with a sight that made his heart stutter between disbelief and excitement. All the way between him and the center of the square was a clear path, the ponies edging it eying him with curiosity instead of skepticism.
As he made his way down the aisle, he felt his confidence returning as ponies smiled at him, the Nomad trailing behind him in his copper aura, rumbling along the brick floor of the square. He could hear them talking amongst themselves, all of them sounding more excited than worried, or at least to his ears. If there were any who truly thought he would fail among them, they weren't close enough to be heard.
A ways ahead of him a young unicorn colt half-tumbled right into his path, having squeezed his way forcibly through the legs of the adults to get this far. Surprised by his sudden appearance, but amused by the method of such an entrance, Gearrick couldn't help but smile, even as somepony within the crowd, presumably the colt's mother, started shouting for him.
Those lining the edge of the path were all muttering curiosities over the appearance of the boy, even as Gearrick continued his approach. If he had to guess, Gearrick would say that the boy was maybe four or five years old at the most.
As soon as the colt was back on his hooves and had caught sight of Gearrick, his face broke into a huge smile. "Mr. Tinkermane!" he called excitedly, blurring his 'r' and 'w' sounds slightly in typical childhood fashion. He half ran, half-bounced on his tiny legs to close what remained of the distance between himself and Gearrick, smiling all the while, and calling out to him over and over.
A unicorn mare, presumably his mother, finally broke through the crowd at about the same place her boy had, looking panicked. When she caught sight of her son completely disrupting the procession she dashed over, looking appalled. "Oh, Mr. Tinkermane, I am so, so sorry!" she apologized, picking her son up with her magic.
Gearrick laughed as the young colt twisted and turned, unable to do anything more than flail around in his mother's magical aura. "Mom, put me down!"
"Absolutely not!" she huffed at him, before turning back to Gearrick, readying something else to say, but he cut her off with a small smile.
"Why not set him down, ma'am? It's absolutely fine, he's not bothering anypony," he said calmly, still smiling all the while.
Looking confused, the mother at last relented, setting her son down. The small ball of fluff immediately rocketed over to Gearrick, latching onto one of his front legs. The crowd and Gearrick all shared a laugh at his antics, things they could easily recall doing in their own youth.
"Well hello there," Gearrick replied, rubbing a hoof gently atop the little one's head. "And what's your name?"
"Fizzit," he replied excitedly.
"Fixxit," his mother corrected gently, smiling as the situation became cuter by the second.
"Well, Fixxit, it's an honor to meet you," Gearrick said quietly, as the colt detached himself from his leg. "You're a little young for a festival like this. What brings you out here?"
"I'm your biggest fan!" he replied instantly, proudly putting a hoof to his chest and holding his head high.
His mother chuckled to herself, but not mockingly. This was clearly something she had seen rehearsed again and again at home.
Gearrick was speechless for a short while. Fan? His fan? Those words radiated straight down to his hooves, filled him with warmth.
"We took him to see the festival last year," his mother explained. "His father's a tinker in Fillydelphia, and bought us all tickets to come and watch, though he was too busy to come this year. He doesn't have the money to compete himself, but it's his passion, and he wanted to share it with his son. Fixxit was only three then, and when he saw you in stage two..."
"Then Gearrick Tinkermane soars through the sky!" the young colt illustrated, telling his own version of the story to anypony who would listen, dashing around and making 'whooshing' sounds for emphasis. The crowd laughed warmly at his antics, thoroughly enjoying the completely unexpected, and interesting, break in the contest routine.
Unable to find anything to say, Gearrick let out a single, disbelieving laugh, but it was clear by the expression on his face that he was flattered, not taken aback. Fixxit's mother smiled, amused by his reaction.
"Does it fly?" came a sudden, high-pitched question from below.
Gearrick smiled, regaining his composure, but retaining the wonderful feeling. "Well, maybe..." he said with a sly wink. "What about you, bud? Do you think it can fly?" he asked, smiling still.
"I bet it can if you say it can," he replied without hesitation. "It's the bestest machine ever!"
Gearrick was once again stricken dumb by the boy's zeal and warm-hearted faith in his invention.
"Can I have your automath?" Fixxit asked excitedly, inching closer and smiling ear to ear.
"Autograph," his mother corrected again.
"Autograph," Fixxit clarified. "Can I, Mr. Tinkermane?"
Gearrick smiled, and picked the youngster up in his aura. "Of course you can, but an autograph isn't good enough for my biggest fan," he said with a chuckle. Without a second thought, Gearrick floated the colt up over the front end of the Nomad, and set him right in the driver's seat.
The mother eyed him critically, clearly a little concerned. "Is it really alright?" she asked, afraid her son might press something he shouldn't.
"Well, it isn't on, so he can't hurt much," Gearrick replied with a small laugh as the colt went absolutely ballistic, jumping on the seat and squealing with joy. "Why don't you stick around too, just in case?" he offered, using his magic to get the Nomad rolling again.
The mother nodded, walking right beside him as the crowd started applauding and laughing at the energetic colt in the vehicle.
"Hey Fixxit?" Gearrick shouted over the noise. "Want to see something cool?"
"What's cooler than this?" he asked in disbelief, standing up on the seat and leaning out over the windshield.
"See that big yellow button in the middle of the steering handles?" he asked, assuming that the child probably owned a bike or a scooter.
"Yep!" he called back, sitting back down.
"Hit it!" Gearrick called back, smiling mischievously.
"What does it-" his mother began, but she was cut off by an incredibly loud, lengthy beep emitted by the Nomad.
"Nice, glad to see that's still working," Gearrick chuckled to himself, the mother joining him in a laugh as the colt in the car reacted to such a spectacular result from the button.
"This is the best day ever!" Fixxit squealed, hitting the button again and again.
And with a chorus of beeping, Gearrick tugged the Nomad the rest of the way, his biggest fan at the helm.
Fixxit and his mother had a place nice and close to the center area, the young colt having disembarked so that the festival could continue. The judges stood on the stage, eagerly awaiting his pre-demonstration speech. Not many of them looked too put-out by the delay caused by Fixxit, and in fact the vast majority of the city board was smiling about it.
However, the show must go on, and so Gearrick had been forced to extract the young colt, who, after his adventures with the 'beeper', had been more than satisfied.
"Ladies and gents, it goes without saying that the very nature of the Nomad is difficult to display in full. I have already shown that it can run without the rails of a train, even through these very streets. But without a beach, how can I show that it can traverse the dunes of the oceanside with ease? Without a cliff, how can the Nomad be made to scale it? Sadly, none of that can be found in this square."
A smile came to his face as disappointed sighs, and even angry remarks began to filter in.
"But I can prove at the least that it can traverse water, and that it is by far faster than any steam boat yet built."
The crowd went silent at this declaration, and the spokespony was forced to clarify his rather vague point.
"And how do you propose to do such a thing?" she asked, sounding more intrigued than anything. There was no water in the festival grounds.
"What I propose, if the judges permit it, is to take the festival to the bank of the Manehattan river, and drive the Nomad across the water," he declared evenly.
The crowd was stunned, and even the judges seemed confused. Requests like this were simply not made in the contest.
The spokespony cleared her throat, recovering herself. "This is an unusual request... The judges will have to discuss it first," she said cautiously, as if expecting Gearrick to rescind his request.
"Certainly," he called back to the stage, smiling all the while.
"If your request is denied, you will forfeit the second stage," the spokespony replied, her tone still holding that cautious note.
The crowd began to murmur at this, but Gearrick's smile remained steady. "A risk I am willing to take. If you will review the contest rules, as I was given them, you will find that my request is well within the bounds. Check section four, article 'b', if you please," he said politely.
The spokespony sighed, clearly forced into a judge's debate on the issue. "Very well. Everypony, please wait while the judges discuss."
"Forfeit? Like, lose?" Fixxit asked from the side, his voice full of disappointment.
"Don't worry, bud," Gearrick said with a small smile, watching as the ring of judges on stage was in heavy debate, a rule book being passed between them.
"I know what I'm doing."
"Such a request is asinine!" Mick Magnet fumed, his mood still shot from the unexpected success of the lifting machine. "I wrote the rules for this contest, I of all ponies should know that what he is requesting is a blatant disruption of the contest proceedings!"
The mayor and the spokespony, who were both eying the article mentioned by Gearrick, pointedly ignored him. "It is not a disruption unless it happens, and if the rules allow for it, then it is not a disruption," the mayor said plainly, scanning the page.
"You can't seriously be considering this..." Mick grumbled, putting a hoof to his face in frustration.
"The article reads:
The city is required to supply all possible necessities for the second stage of the contest. Should a contestant enter an invention for which the city cannot provide an adequate means to test it, then he or she is to be disqualified," the mayor finished, his old voice warbling through the reading.
"There, you see?" Mr. Magnet grumbled. "If the city cannot provide an adequate means of testing, then he is disqualified."
"Mr. Tinkermane has specified a perfectly adequate means for testing his invention," the mayor pointed out. "It is intended to cross water, among other things. As for the means, the river can, in fact, be utilized with relative ease. Granted, the entire festival crowd must be relocated for such a thing, but it can be done. And if the means can be supplied..." he trailed off, the other judges nodding sagely.
"Then the city is required to supply it. Very well, I'll announce it," the spokespony said, wandering off to the podium as the assembly broke off, the business concluded.
Mick Magnet ground his teeth, glaring at the speck of tan fur in the center of the square. "Very clever, Mr. Tinkermane. Very clever."
Twilight sighed as she waited at the edge of the crowd. What the heck was he thinking? Risking the entire contest like that? She understood now that if they did move to the river, she'd be able to get a front-row seat to watch him demonstrate the Nomad since she was already on the side of the crowd closest to the river. However, there was no guarantee that was even going to happen.
"Gearrick, you're insane," she muttered, watching as the ponies on stage fidgeted around the rule book. At last the spokespony broke away, and Twilight could feel her heart pumping with anticipation. She really hoped it wouldn't come down to his disqualification.
"According to the article mentioned... the city is required to grant Mr. Tinkermane's request," the spokespony declared loudly.
After only a moment's hesitation, the crowd was in an uproar over it, not the least of which was Twilight's own shout of relief.
"Everypony please proceed in an orderly fashion down Twelfth Avenue. The contest will resume once the procession has reached the Manehattan River. After the final demonstration, the closing ceremonies for the day will be completed back here at Central Square, for any who are interested in attending. You are dismissed," she finished, her magically amplified voice easily carrying over the crowd.
The mass of ponies quickly began moving, though there was a distinct hole in the crowd where the Nomad was, making its way slowly towards the avenue mentioned.
Unwilling to lose the head start Gearrick had so conveniently given her, Twilight started down the mentioned street, which intersected the square. As much as she wanted to find and berate Gearrick for being a lunatic, she couldn't deny that she badly wanted to see if everything he said about his wonder machine was true.
So, at a less than orderly pace, Twilight took off to get a good seat to watch the fun.