After several hours of rigorous testing, the Cutie Mark Crusaders declared their trebuchet to be an unequivocal success. Well, that’s what Sweetie Belle had wanted to call it, since “unequivocal” was on the list of vocabulary words that they were supposed to have studied during the summer, but Scootaloo flatly rejected the idea of connecting any aspect of the human trap to something as dull as their education. In any case, the trebuchet had been safely hidden away underneath a canvas tarp in time for them to break for lunch.
They’d returned to the shade of their clubhouse to escape the midday sun so they could assemble another key part of their trap. This was a fairly simple toy that Scootaloo’s mother had made for her when she was just a toddler who needed to be kept occupied on a rainy day. It consisted of a paper clip with one end bent around an empty sewing machine bobbin, with the other end curved to form a hook. Scootaloo’s mom had then weighed the toy down by putting large buttons on the hook and placed the bobbin on length of twine that had been stretched out across the room, creating a miniature zipline.
Apple Bloom brought the twine, Scootaloo brought the paper clips, and Sweetie Belle brought the buttons and bobbins, and, after some trial and error, they’d produced a gizmo that was not only well-balanced, but strong enough to allow Mr. Shnookums to take several test runs for his new employers (though the hamster seemed disappointed to learn that this would not actually be part of his job when the trap was finished). There was, however, one tiny detail that still needed to be settled.
“Sorry, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie Belle said with a short sigh, “but I’m with Scootaloo on this one. It only makes sense to call it a thingamabob, since the whole thing is made using a bobbin.”
“But it’s shaped like a fishin’ jig,” Apple Bloom countered. “There’s a hook, and it’s even on a line. Besides, why are those things even called bobbins in the first place?”
“Rarity says that folks thought they made a sound like ‘bobbin, bobbin’ in the first sewing machines.”
“Aw, come on, she probably just made it up ’cuz she don’t know herself.”
“Look, don’t be a sore loser, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said as she lifted Mr. Shnookums up for his seventh run on the zipline. “I was right, and you were wrong. Just leave it at that, and we can move on to the next part of the trap.”
As much as Apple Bloom wanted to keep the argument going, she had to admit that Scootaloo had a point. They still needed several hard-to-acquire parts for their trap—most notably an anvil. They really needed to figure out the best way to get their hooves on one of those, because it wasn’t like one was going to fall from the sky.
That sort of thing only happened in cartoons.
September 1 – 12:09 PM
After the abrupt end to the morning’s efforts, Fluttershy’s friends had all gathered in the library for another strategy session, joined once again by Pencil Pusher, although this time Spike had been tasked with guarding the door, ostensibly to make sure nopony eavesdropped on the sensitive information that would be discussed, but mostly to prevent any ponies from needlessly interrupting them. If they were going to come up with a solution, their full concentration would be necessary, which meant that they didn’t have the luxury of engaging in esoteric quibbles.
Unfortunately, somepony had forgotten to tell this to Fluttershy, whose concentration seemed to be focused with the most extreme precision on not discussing anything. She hadn’t been the one who called this gathering—that had been Rainbow Dash’s idea. Fluttershy had wanted to get home as fast as she could and hide underneath a pile of blankets until the heat death of the universe made the fog completely irrelevant. Indeed, if Twilight Sparkle and Rarity hadn’t been trying to make conversation with her while Rainbow Dash fetched Pinkie Pie and Applejack, she probably would have tried to sneak away.
Sadly, with escape so cruelly denied to her, Fluttershy had little recourse but to enter a semi-catatonic state, sitting on a chair near the flight of stairs that led up to Twilight Sparkle’s bedroom and silently rocking her torso back and forth as she stared at a knothole on the wooden floor and resolutely refused to have any sort of discussion whatsoever. There were far more pressing matters than the fog that she needed to think about, such as where she could go if she needed to make a break for freedom by flying out of one of the library’s windows.
Her friends, on the other hoof, were beginning to get annoyed. “C’mon, Fluttershy, we’re trying to help you out, here,” Rainbow Dash said as she hovered over her friend with a ragged edge to her usual raspy voice.
“You can’t,” Fluttershy responded as she continued teetering on her haunches, her forelegs curled tightly across her barrel. Her motion had been constant for nearly ten minutes, with the only interruptions coming in the form of spasmodic flaps of her wings, like a persistent nervous tic.
“Well, I suppose that’s technically true,” Rarity remarked. “That being said, we may be able to help you if you tell us what is going on.”
“That’s right,” Twilight Sparkle agreed. “The first step to overcoming this setback is to make sure that everypony here knows just what the setback is.”
Fluttershy didn’t even bother to cease her swaying to make eye contact as she answered, “I can’t tell you that. I’m not allowed to tell anypony, and I’m in enough trouble as it is.” She started nervously tugging at her cravat, which was starting to become loose from all the fidgeting that she’d done.
Pencil Pusher awkwardly coughed to clear his throat. “Well, actually, I believe that the agreement you signed only covers the process that Caligo used to make the clouds in the first place. You should be safe telling us what’s going on, as long as you don’t go into too much detail about why it’s happening.”
This, at least, finally got Fluttershy to stop rocking and look away from the floor. “But how do I do that?”
“Just avoid talking about pegasus magic, and you’ll be fine,” Rainbow Dash said. “Er, right?” she added, casting a sideways glance at Pencil Pusher.
“More or less,” the bureaucrat confirmed with a nod.
Fluttershy leaned back in her chair and slowly rubbed her face. She supposed that there was little point in continuing to delay the inevitable. She inhaled deeply and steeled what little remained of her resolve as best she could. “Okay... well, you know how these clouds were meant to be used in the desert?”
“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash replied.
“Well, what makes them valuable is the fact that they can last for a long time in hot, dry conditions. Eventually, any cloud will dry out if nothing’s done to it, but clouds with more moisture take longer to dissipate. So Caligo’s researchers found a way to stop the clouds from raining, which means you can keep feeding fresh clouds into it, and they’ll only get stronger, and once they reach their maximum density, they simply repel any additional clouds that come in contact with them.”
“Hold up there,” Applejack said from her seat near Twilight’s kitchen door. She stood up and started walking towards Fluttershy as she continued speaking. “I thought these clouds were all compressed in their containers when this mess happened in the first place. If they’re so goshdarned strong, why’d they spread out?”
“The clouds are sort of like cement,” Fluttershy said. “They need to set before they’ll hold their form.”
“And how long until this fog sets?” Rarity asked.
“It already has,” Fluttershy answered, half-wailing in despair. “That’s why the fog stopped when it hit the bonfires.”
“No way,” Rainbow Dash replied. “It couldn’t have happened immediately. Otherwise, the fog would have been so consistent that there wouldn’t have been a clump to knock Flitter into the fire. Plus, I could easily spot weak points this morning, so it can’t be over just yet.”
Somehow, Fluttershy didn’t seem to think there was much point in being optimistic anymore. “It’s over. I failed. There’s nothing I can do!”
“Why are you being so silly, Fluttershy? Silliness is my job!” Pinkie Pie said. “Your job is to figure out how to deal with the fog. And I know you can do your job, because you’ve been doing a really good job at your job so far.”
“That’s right,” Applejack said. “You’ve faced worse things than this before, and you’ve always come through. This ain’t a full-grown dragon, and it ain’t Discord. It’s fog! Okay, granted, it’s some mighty weird fog, but you’re a fog expert. Ain’t no reason you shouldn’t be able to come up with something. I got faith in you, Fluttershy. We all do.”
Fluttershy started rocking back and forth. “You really shouldn’t,” she said in a strained voice.
Rarity smiled warmly as she said, “There’s no need to be modest, darling—”
“I’m not being modest,” Fluttershy interrupted with a panicked look in her eyes. “I mean you really shouldn’t have faith in me. There’s absolutely no reason why anypony should.”
By now, all the ponies in the room were more than a little unnerved. “Why not?” Pinkie Pie asked.
“Because... I... I’m not really a fog specialist!”