“I see,” said Twilight Sparkle to Tech Specs as she thought about the blue unicorn’s words. “So, you’ve known Bass Beat longer than you have Uhrwerk?”
“Aye,” confirmed Tech, “I learned a good lot from both of them, and love them with all of my heart.”
Everypony nodded respectfully at Tech, and then Applejack asked, “what did you learn from Uhrwerk, anyway?”
The blue mare looked to a clock on another table in the train car, and remarked, “well, we’re scheduled to arrive in a little over an hour, plenty of time for another story.” She then looked to everypony around her, each and every one smiling brightly, in anticipation for her to continue. “Right, then,” began she, “Uhrwerk’s entrance exam was simple: build a clock.”
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Emerald Comet sat at a small, rectangular table, with Uhrwerk on the other side, and two other Earth Stallions surrounding him. Each held a clipboard and quill, with ink cans at the ready. Bass Beat was also in the room, standing casually on the other side of the room, holding Blades and watching her friend.
The stallion to Uhrwerk’s left then reached under the table and produced a small wooden box, and another small cardboard box. The wooden box had a circular clockface on one side, and a sliding panel on the other side, revealing an almost empty interior. Inside the cardboard box were various brass gears, cogs, springs, and clock hands, as well as small screws, a screwdriver, and a key for the clock.
The stallion right of Uhrwerk gave Emerald a small stack of papers. “What’s this?” asked she to the stallion.
“Schematics for the clock, Miss Comet,” replied the stallion without missing a beat.
“And finally,” began Uhrwerk. He produced a shiny gold fobwatch which resembled the old stallion’s Cutie Mark from his vest pocket, unclipped the chain, and slid it across the table to Emerald’s side. She looked at him, and he informed, “you may open this watch up and reference its mechanics for your clock, Miss Comet.” He then wrote something on his clipboard and announced, “you may begin.”
Immediately, Emerald set the screwdriver aside and emptied the rest of the contents of the cardboard box onto the table. She then began sorting the parts into stacks and piles: gears and pins of similar size, hands, and screws, among other things. She then opened to the fist page of the schematics, which detailed the first layer of the clock, the spring mechanism. She carefully examined every piece before putting it into place around the keyhole, slowly forming a spring-powered gear. At this, the filly attached the mechanism to the back panel of the clock with screws, removed the clockface, and got to work building the clock’s machinery from the inside. Before she put in another gear, she looked to the three stallions and asked not one in particular, “umm, would it be alright if I asked for a piece of parchment and quill to take notes?”
The brown stallion in the centre looked to his colleagues, who each nodded, and then looked to Emerald and said, “I don’t see why not.” He then tore a piece of paper from his clipboard and gave it to the filly, along with his quill and ink.
“Thank you, Sir,” said she gratefully. She then scrawled a few words describing each set of pieces she had, with tick marks under each name signifying how many of each part she’d used. With each component she added, she made a mark under its corresponding part name. she tried to remember the clockmaker in Canterlot, and tried to emulate how he meticulously placed each and every piece into the watch casing like a complex puzzle. After about 50 minutes, she finally finished installing all the gears, and immediately began work on the clockface, carefully securing it in place with screws. She then attached three hands onto the face, all set at the “XII“ mark. Once the hands were secured onto the face with a screw and cap, she lifted the clock on its side, revealing her completed device to the three stallions.
“Very good, Miss Comet,” complimented one of the stallions, looking at every visible component of the clock. “Now, wind it up and let’s see it go.”
“With pleasure,” replied a confident Emerald as she inserted the key into the hole and began winding. With three to four turns, she let it go. It ticked away about three seconds before everypony heard a faint pinging sound inside of the clock. When the sound subsided, the clock’s hands stopped dead. Emerald tried to wind it again, but it did nothing. The filly’s expression darkened as she lowered her head in failure. Bass followed her example, lowering her head in disappointment for her blue friend. “I failed, didn’t I?” asked Emerald, although she was sure of the answer.
“Even a broken clock is correct twice a day, Young Filly,” said Uhrwerk nonchalantly, much to everypony’s surprise. The old stallion trotted slowly around the table to Emerald’s side, and then explained, “yes, you failed, but not really. You took inventory on your parts, examined each piece carefully, and then placed them ever so gently into the body of the clock. All of these traits are usually associated with veteran watchmakers: ponies who had been doing these things for many years. I would know. And that is why you pass.”
Emerald Comet couldn’t contain her excitement, embracing the stallion in a tight hug. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you!” said she giddily, laughing in joy.
Bass Beat approached Emerald as well, saying to her friend, “congrats, Emerald.”
Uhrwerk’s two colleagues soon began clapping their forehooves slowly to congratulate the young filly as well. When celebrations were over, the two stallions departed, leaving Uhrwerk, his new student, and Bass Beat in the room.
On the table, Bass began flipping through the pages of the schematics for the clock, remarking, “you know, you had your eyes glued to these tech specs half the time, Emerald.”
Emerald laughed and replied, “yeah, I kind of did.” She then put a hoof to her chin and thought to herself for a moment, and then said, more to herself than anypony else, “that’s got a nice ring to it, ‘tech specs.’”
“What,” mocked Bass, “should we just call you ‘Tech Specs’ from now on?”
“So,” said Uhrwerk, standing next to the table with a paper of some kind under his hoof, and a quill ready to write. “What should I write as the name of my new student?”
Emerald thought once again, and then told the stallion, “I do rather like ‘Tech Specs’ as opposed to ‘Emerald Comet.’”
“Right, then,” said Uhrwerk, shrugging before he wrote upon the paper. He was intending that as a joke, but he had to agree with the filly; he liked the name “Tech Specs” better than “Emerald Comet.” He then put the quill down and offered his hoof to the blue unicorn, joyously saying to her, “wunderbar! Welcome to my school, Tech Specs.”
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Pinkie Pie couldn’t stop herself from bursting into laughter at what Tech Specs had said. Between laughs, she managed to utter, “you.. you’re telling.. us that.. your.. name.. was.. a joke?”
Tech nodded, saying to everypony, “that’s right. Uhrwerk turned that form into City Hall, and the Fillydelphia Government recognised me as Tech Specs. The name, 'Emerald Comet’ just faded away over time. I don’t complain; I rather like the name, if I’m honest.”
“I see,” added Rarity to the conversation, “how did your enrollment in Uhrwerk’s school go, Tech, Darling?”
“Oi, it went great,” replied the blue unicorn to the white, remembering the time fondly. “He started only teaching me things about clockmaking. But, he eventually began teaching me other things: cooking, cleaning, metalworking, the works. Also, he really loved inventing.”
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Emerald Comet, whose name was by that point officially Tech Specs, had been learning under Uhrwerk for a year. She had fixed the clock she originally built, and even carved some elegant designs into the wooden housing. Tech loved learning whatever Uhrwerk had to teach her. Eventually, though, her term had expired. Tech, not wanting to let such a fun time come to an end, had begged Uhrwerk to continue to teach her. He had initially resisted, on the grounds that other ponies wanted to be his student, as well. Eventually, though, with the help of Bass Beat, who was still working as a maid at the place, the pair had come to a compromise: Uhrwerk would take other students as they came, and Tech would work with Bass as a maid, and he would unofficially teach Tech everything he knew, such as how to properly do housework, proper dress, and, eventually, inventing.
Two months after the agreement, Uhrwerk and Tech were working on a natural gas-powered cookstove. They had taken a steel burner from an old, wood-powered stove, and basically attached a shortened Bunsen Burner to the underside of it, with a set of steel legs to keep the device upright. The burner was connected via hose to a small tank of natural gas.
“Here, put these on, Tech,” ordered Uhrwerk, holding a pair of protective goggles in his hoof. Tech took them and tried to put them on, but they were too large. “I can fix that,” said the stallion as he tightened the strap to fit the filly’s small head. Once they were secure, he donned his own goggles, smiled, and asked the filly, “are you ready?”
“Am I ready?” scoffed Tech sarcastically. “Shall I light the burner, then?” Uhrwerk nodded, and Tech struck a match, holding it to the burner. Uhrwerk opened the valve on the fuel canister, and it released a small hiss, and then engulfed the match in flame. Tech tossed the burnt out match in a trash bin, and adjusted the tube of the burner ever so slightly. The top of the invention began to heat up rapidly.
“It works,” announced the old stallion, knocking his hoof gently on the table. “Shall we test its cooking ability?” When Tech nodded enthusiastically and confirmed, Uhrwerk trotted to another table to fetch a cooking pot.
Suddenly, the hiss of the fuel tank returned. Uhrwerk turned his head to look when he was caught off guard by a loud explosion. He managed to duck just in time to avoid the fireball that came his way and dissipated on the brick wall behind him. “Mein Wort!” exclaimed he as he, as if by instinct, darted his view to the table which contained but a charred black husk of a cookstove.
On the floor beside the table lay Tech. Her fur was charred slightly, and her pink mane was all but destroyed by the flame, with only a few centimetres worth of hair, the tips of it singed almost completely black. Her tail was similar: burned off until it was extremely short, but it was still on fire, though. Uhrwerk quickly snuffed the fire with his hoof, which awoke Tech. She shouted in pain, but stopped when the stallion let his hoof off of her tail.
“Are you alright?” was all Uhrwerk asked the unicorn filly.
Dazed, Tech managed to get herself onto her hooves and groggily reply, “yeah, I’ll be fine.”
Uhrwerk, with an extremely worried look on his aged face, asked Tech, “what happened? I didn’t see.”
Tech shook her head quickly to clear some of the soot from her face and goggles. She then looked under the table where the tank lay. The fuel tank was gone, save a few shreds of smoldering metal where the tank was. She then stood up in front of her teacher and informed, “with reference to the stove itself, not much went wrong. The problem lay with the tank of fuel. The tank’s all but gone, but I have an idea as to what went wrong: it could be that a valve failed and sent a flame down the hose to the tank, igniting the gas.”
The stallion just stood where he was, astonished at his unofficial student’s explanation. He then looked to the cookstove, disassembling the valve in question. He gave it the same astonished look as he said, “you were correct, Tech.” He directed his attention to Tech and confirmed, “it was a faulty gas valve.”
“Awesome!” exclaimed the filly, thrilled that her diagnosis was accurate. She then felt a strange tingling stinging sensation all over her body. “I guess I should go wash this soot off; see how badly I’m burnt, eh?”
“That would likely be best,” answered Uhrwerk, “I shall stay here and clean up this mess.” Tech smiled and hugged the stallion as she trotted out of the room. He then sighed and began gathering up the mangled scraps of metal and sweeping up the soot.
Tech had trotted down the hallway to another door, leading up to the ground floor. There, she traversed a few modestly decorated hallways to a washroom. Inside, she found Bass Beat, standing on a chair to reach a mirror she was cleaning. “Hey, Bass,” greeted Tech.
“Hey, Te.." Bass almost fell off of the chair on which she was standing when she looked at her charred, soot-covered friend. “Oh my gosh!” exclaimed she, “are you okay?”
“I’m be fine,” replied Tech. “I got a haircut, though.” she ran her hoof through her singed mane and the pair shared a laugh. “Anyway,” began she again, “I’ve got to wash this soot off.”
Bass nodded. “I’ll go grab a couple towels from the linen closet for you,” said she, trotting across the hallway. After a few seconds, she re-entered the room, carrying a pair of towels on her back. She set them on the counter where the sink lay, and said, “there you go. I’ll not bother you, then.”
“What are you talking about, Bass?” asked Tech, giving the yellow pegasus a look of confusion. “What are you, a bloody maid?”
“Well,” reasoned Bass, “I am getting paid to clean a house, so yeah.” She then laughed with Tech. “Oh, well,” continued she, “I guess I’ve just gotten used to doing this.”
As Tech bathed, Bass Beat stood in the washroom with her, carrying on a rather idle conversation, mainly involving music, as well as joking about Bass being a maid. After a few minutes, Tech scrubbed her flank with a loofah, and gasped at what she saw. “What is it?” asked Bass, looking at Tech as she stood up, revealing on her cyan flank a trio of interlocked gears.
The pair let out loud screams of joy at the sight; tech Specs had finally gained her Cutie Mark. Tech quickly rinsed and dried of, then emptied the bathtub, and the fillies ran at full gallop down to Uhrwerk’s workshop.
When the fillies burst through the steel door to Uhrwerk’s workshop, the old stallion snapped to a military-looking stance, his front and rear legs in perfect alignment and his head staring straight forward. He blinked, and then relaxed, looking at the duo of fillies. “Oh, hello, Fillies,” greeted he, bowing his head respectfully to them. “What is the hurry?”
“Uhrwerk!” squealed Tech Specs, unable to contain herself. She turned to show her mentor her flank and said happily, “look what I got, Uhrwerk!”
Uhrwerk smiled, great pride for the filly showing in his expression. “Great job, Tech Specs,” said he, “It seems I have taught you well.” He then began out the door, saying to the fillies, “if you will, come with me, please.” The fillies nodded and followed.
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“Wow!” beamed Rainbow Dash, who would have done a flip in the air were she not in a compact train car. “What a way to earn a Cutie Mark!” she continued, “with a large explosion!”
“Aye,” agreed Tech, laughing a bit at the memory. She then looked to the white unicorn at the table. “And now you see why I didn’t have much choice in my mane style,” said she, running a hoof through her short mane.
“I’m so terribly sorry, My Dear!” replied Rarity, “but, I suppose if you enjoy it...”
“I think it looks really cool,” chimed in Pinkie Pie, “it reminds me of, umm, I don’t know what it reminds me of; but it’s cool!”
Twilight Sparkle looked at Tech and got back on topic, saying, “so, you said Uhrwerk had something to show you?” Tech nodded. “So what was it?”
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The stallion led Bass and Tech up to the second floor of the house, down a small hallway, and through a door into a study. Three walls of the large room were covered by bookshelves, save a door on the wall to the right. The books were in all varieties of sizes, colours, and ages; the collection rivaled small libraries. In the centre of the room stood a large desk and elegantly upholstered chair. The table contained various odds and ends, such as notepads, quills, empty ink canisters, and a few books. Uhrwerk trotted up to the desk and opened a drawer, producing a set of a few keys from it. He stored the keys in his vest pocket and left the room, motioning for the fillies to follow, which they did. His next destination was the front door, and as he walked that way, he took an overcoat from a coat rack beside the door, donned it, and opened the door, motioning for the fillies to exit as he did so.
“Umm,” began Tech to get Uhrwerk’s attention. When he looked, she continued, “should I fetch Blades? If we’ll be gone a while, I think I should take him.”
“That would be best,” replied the brown stallion, holding the door open for Tech to rush in. After a minute, she returned, carrying the baby dragon on her back. Blades was a bit larger than he was a year before, and his claws had grown proportionally. He also had learned basic speech, but rarely spoke beyond unintelligible rambling.
With the group together, Uhrwerk turned face and locked the door with one key from his vest pocket, and said to Bass and Tech, “I have something to show you on the other side of the city, Tech. I take it you are coming with us, Miss Beat?”
“Thanks, but it’s just ‘Bass,’” corrected the yellow filly humbly, “but yeah, I think I’d like to tag along.”
“Very well, then,” replied Uhrwerk, letting out a small sigh. “We should be off, then,” said he as he trotted out to the main gate, the fillies following suit.
The trip to wherever they were going was rather silent, save Uhrwerk’s occasional polite greeting to passers by. Eventually, after a bit less then an hour of walking at a leisurely pace, the trio arrived at their destination. It was in Downtown Fillydelphia, on a block with very few buildings. there was an apartment building, a Laundromat, and a general store, as well as a small two-story shop near the end of the block. The storefront was plain, with only a glass front, with a watch resembling Uhrwerk’s Cutie Mark on the window. the old stallion approached the doors to the shop, produced a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.
The inside of the shop was just as plain, with only a few shelves on either wall of the small front room. On the other side of the room stood a wooden desk, and behind it a steel door.
Tech and Bass looked about the room in awe, especially the contents of the shelves. Clocks and watches of all shapes and sizes: some clearly expensive, and some cheap, some big, and some small, adorned the shelves. Each specimen had a tag tied to it, bearing a few words and a price. The next stop on the showing of the building was behind the steel door. A colossal workshop with steel tables and old metalworking tools, and another door on the far wall. The fillies and dragon marveled at the size of the space, but were rushed along by Uhrwerk, stepping through the door.
Through the door was a small staircase leading to the second floor. On the second floor were a few doors, the contents of which were shown by Uhrwerk to the fillies: there were two bedrooms, a washroom, a kitchen, and a small study, each room modestly decorated and furnished. “What is all this?” asked Tech, half-knowing what the answer will be.
“It is my shop,” replied Uhrwerk simply, “as well as my home away from home.” He then rest his cyan eyes on the blue filly, and as pride filled them to the brim, he announced, “and it will be yours when I’m gone, Miss Tech Specs.”
Tech Specs was completely taken aback by Uhrwerk’s answer. “What?” asked she, then adding, “what do you mean?”
Uhrwerk didn’t hesitate to answer. “Because I am old,” said he, “and a dead stallion can’t run a shop very well, can he?”
“I understand,” replied Tech, her emerald eyes welling with tears. “I won’t disappoint you when the time comes.”
The brown stallion leaked a smile, and said to his student, “I know, Tech. That is why I chose you. I knew from Day One that you were determined, more than anything else, to be the best mechanist Equestria’s ever seen. And, you have the skills to make it happen.”
Tech Specs couldn’t control herself anymore. She jumped and embraced the brown stallion in a loving hug. She giggled and said to him, “I love you, Uhrwerk.”
Uhrwerk returned the gesture of affection, and said to her, “lieb dich auch, wie eine Tochter.”
“Hmm,” said Bass Beat to herself, “tender moments aren’t really my thing, but whatever.” She then shrugged and joined in on the hug as well, bringing Blades with her.
Tech felt Bass’ hug, and said to her, “I love you, Bass. Like a sister.”
“Same to you, Tech,” replied Bass.
“And you, too, Blades,” added Tech. The dragon just smiled and hugged the ponies tighter, almost stabbing Bass Beat with his claws.