Three knocks rang from the front door, hammered out in clear haste yet not with the scrambled rush of panic. Twilight was swift to answer, delaying for only a sliver of a moment to check her presentability along with that of her library and companions. Spike had been sitting on a small stack of books, resting from his duties, while James had set down against the wall, thumbing through one of the books the unicorn had handed to him nearly two weeks ago. The loud pounding had made them merely rise from their seats and watch with interest. Finding no reason to lengthen her pause, Twilight drew open the door.
Outside, the drumming of the rain and the darkness of the clouds was in passing, and busy pegasi could be seen working to cast away the rest of the storm. Droplets dribbled from branches and overhangs like a faded memory of the morning. Each blade of grass glistened, refreshed, and their green hue beamed in the renewed sunlight. The walkways and streets, still damp and wet, glimmered brightly in the same light; each stone sparkled, creating a field of tiny white stars along the paths through town. Although the day was passing into afternoon, the world was just beginning to wake up.
On the other side of the door was the expected repairpony. An earth mare of usual stature, she was light almond in color and bore a cutie mark depicting a wrench fastened tightly onto a nut. Her mane and tail were a deep, almost maroon color, and a general lack of upkeep on them both made her hair spring out like flares in many places. Darkened goggles with huckleberry blue frames were strapped around her head and set above her crimson eyes, pushing up her wild bangs. Strange marking encircled her eyes; they looked like coffee-colored stains that were spaced an inch out, and they could easily be mistaken for a natural fur pattern though they were actually set-in grime and residue; long entrenched markings left from where her goggles rested during dirtier work. Tight around her right side was a saddlebag set in the same color as her eyewear. It was overflowing with pockets and zippers, a contraption unto itself, and it sagged heavily under the weight of the tools that were stored inside.
"Hey!" the repairpony cordially greeted. Her voice rolled like a greased wheel but had a precise levity. She followed her greeting up rapidly, unsure if she had correctly found her target address, asking, "You needed something fixed?"
"Yes! Yes, come on in," Twilight confirmed as she stepped aside and waved the new arrival in.
Briskly the newcomer entered. Her head turned about and her eyes wandered, getting a feel for the new space she was entering, but at the same time she seemed distracted and inattentive. It was only at the sight of the dragon and the man that her focus seemed to come back and she regarded them both with an unassuming suspicion. She was told "library", but had she stumbled upon a zoo instead? Only when Twilight spoke again did she tear her eyes away from them.
"Thank you very much for coming! I'm Twilight Sparkle." She briefly regarded her guest with a lost familiarity. There were a lot of ponies in town but she could never keep track of them all. She was no Pinkie Pie. Testing the water, she stated, "I think maybe we've met before? I'm sorry if I don't remember..."
Dismissing the worry and concern, the repairpony immediately responded, "Oh, no, I feel likewise for sure. I'm certain I've at least seen you about before. I'm Gadget. To my friends anyway." She cocked a smile and raised a hoof in salutation.
Assuaged, Twilight warmly returned the gesture and said, "Well, it's a real pleasure to meet you, Gadget. Oh, and these are my friends here." She waved Spike and James closer and entreated them to introduce themselves.
The dragon shook claw with hoof, missing no chance to pour out his chipper attitude as he gave his name and, to puff up his own importance, what felt like his entire list of responsibilities at the library. James was comparatively silent. He gave his name, a pleasantry, and a bow, each fully courteous and open, but no more than that. Gadget accepted their greetings with a mixture of happy curiosity and peculiar bemusement, still deciding what to make of the two's presence.
Spike, caught between earnest wonder and mild sarcasm, asked, "So if your friends call you Gadget, what does everypony else call you?"
"Ah," Gadget chuckled, "I've taken a liking to that nickname. Fits me like a socket wrench to a fastener. But when I have to use my real name..." She stood back, raised herself up, and gave a pride-filled flourish with her reintroduction. "Gizmo. Gizmo Thingamajig, at your service. Repairpony, inventor, tinkerer, disassembler, reassembler, and all around fix-it-up, tear-it-down, get-it-done, do-it-yourself pony." With a wink she boldly proclaimed, "There's nothing with a moving part that I can't tune up."
James turned to the side to suppress a smile and a laugh. Foreign names can have a funny sound to those who aren't natives but these were just impossible to get used to.
"Thingamajig?" Twilight said, jumping with a sudden pique in interest. She edged forward and leered over Gadget for clues as she excitedly questioned, "Do you happen to know a Doodad Thingamajig?"
"Grate my gears!" Gadget exclaimed, quickly matching the unicorn in excitement. "That's my pop! You know, I pegged you for a Canterlot pony. How is the old bag of bolts?"
"Oh, it's been too many years," Twilight admitted. "I took some lessons on mechanical assembly under him a long time ago, way before I moved to Ponyville. You've probably seen him more recently than I have."
The two ponies began to chat away with delight like long lost siblings who had reunited. Fast stories were exchanged of growing up under the golden roofs of their home city, and of what it was like in days past. Twilight shared her connections to the royalty and her arduous path of study through life: her brother Shining Armor's eventual duties with the Royal Guard, her own study under the wings of Princess Celestia, and her dedication to the research of friendship which eventually brought her out of the great city. On the other side, Gadget was eager to talk about her family and their long residence in the humbler parts of town: father Doodad always made himself available as a mentor to other ponies, mother Widget had a reputation for fixing every little thing for the neighbors which ever broke, brother Doohickey could never keep out of trouble because he dismantled things all across the neighborhood to study how they worked, and good old cousin Whatchamacallit... well, nopony really remembers what she ever did but they see fit to include her every time they talked about family anyway.
Like a hooked fish, Spike hung onto each passing word of their exchange. The air of memory they generated about Canterlot was equally compelling to him and sometimes he found it too irresistible to add his own comments to Twilight's side of the story.
As before, James was much more subdued and silent by comparison, feeling the expanse of separation that came from having no common relation to their tales. And yet at the same time, everything about the way the two ponies engaged each other was so ordinary and normal, like a thousand other friendly meetings he'd seen or had in his life. The blur of strange and plain feelings struck him with a heavy swing. Even the things about Twilight that he had already known, revealed by her in many of their earlier conversations, overflowed with a new freshness given by the excitement of her reminiscence. He didn't turn away or let their words tune out.
"Eventually I realized I didn't want to stay forever within the bounds of the city," Gadget explained. "So, I went to a few different places, saw lots of different machines... learned more than I could ever need! Sooner or later I happened along Ponyville, and I just really liked the feel of this town... not to mention it seemed like they really needed a pony of my talents, so I thought I'd stay. I'll go back to the folks for a visit from time to time, but in the end I guess I'm just not a city pony! Don't think I could ever go back to stay." She shrugged as if admitting that still surprised her, even after having come to the decision years ago.
"I understand what you mean," Twilight said. "At first I could never have imagined moving away from Canterlot. I thought everything I could ever want was there, and I resented having to come to Ponyville to fulfill my duties. But now..." She shook her head with the same kind of surprise as Gadget, flooded with hindsight and awestruck at where her journey had taken her. "Now I could never imagine my life without having come here! I really had to head somewhere else, somewhere I didn't want to be, to grow in ways I never knew I could."
Gadget nodded in agreement as she added, "You know, Pop had a way with assembling his words, too. He would always say things like, 'You won't know where you need to be until you get there.'"
"Yeah," Twilight giggled. "I remember. My favorite was, 'You'll always have enough time, if you take enough time to start.'"
The phrase resonated within Gadget and suddenly time seemed to press in on her. She was filled with haste again, still squelched shy of being recklessly rushed. "It's been fun shooting the breeze now, but you did call me in here to fix something, am I right?" she asked quickly. Swiveling about, she searched the room for any obvious task which might have summoned her. When she failed to find anything, her lightly suspicious gaze settled again on Spike and James, and she honestly mused aloud, "Your pet dragon or ogre here get into something they shouldn't have?"
James subtly shook his head, half-amused yet half-annoyed. He felt that this treatment was no different than he had gotten from most of the other townponies, whenever he had sparse interactions with them. Only Twilight's friends seemed to have put aside his outsider spectacle nature with any speed. He wasn't precisely caught off guard by Gadget's words but it turned his mind inwards regardless. It ached in a similar way to a feeling he had experienced before: being the soldier who marched through someone else's village. But it wasn't the same. Even without any hostile suspicion there was something subtle and invasive about it all.
Spike wasn't nearly as quiet about the remark. "Hey!" he shouted as he stepped forward with a protruded chest and a raised arm, "I work here! I resent being considered just a pet! I could find my way around this library in the dark, blindfolded, both arms tied behind my back, while hopping on one foot. I know it like the spines on my back. I know where every book is and goes." He folded his arms and shot his nose up, snapping his tail once with indignation. But the quick whipping toppled the tiny tower of books behind him and he cringed with embarrassment before he started to pick them up.
"They aren't my pets," Twilight interceded. "Spike has been a near lifelong companion," she rapidly took over rebuilding the dragon's fallen tower with her magic, "and James is... new to town. From far away. So it's no surprise you wouldn't recognize that... he's... not an ogre." She seemed tentatively happy with her response and reached for a smile.
An aura of rudimentary regret rose from Gadget, and with a pinch of dismissal she said to the boys, "Aw, pull my plugs, I didn't mean any accusation or implication. It really is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sirs." Without delay she turned again to Twilight, staring with expectation and clearly trying to rush things along.
"Oh, yes," Twilight said, fumbling slightly. "We have a broken Detectatron. A MagiMax, that is. The hardware failure light came on. It's, ah, right this way."
At the name of the device, Gadget's ears shot up and stiffened, attentive and wary. There was an obvious churning of thought behind her eyes; some chain reaction of rumination triggered by those words alone. But whatever it was that she knew, she kept it hidden and patiently followed Twilight, with Spike and James falling in behind her.
They had hardly gone to the next room, where the busted equipment waited for them, when Gadget admitted blandly, "I'm sorry if I seem pressed for time but I got another request for work somewhere else and thought I could stop by here first, on the way. At least to get an estimate." Her eyes never really wavered, glinting with a sure confidence that she knew how this task would play out.
"Oh. I completely understand," Twilight accepted. She stepped up her pace slightly, feeling a twinge of worry that things might not be resolved as soon as she had hoped. It had been so exciting, anticipating a demonstration of the machine for James; something for once he could perhaps more easily relate to. Now the delays had become inescapable and insufferable. But she resisted any urge to be imposing, adding, "Any help that you can give us is appreciated."
When they reached the machine everyone stopped except for Gadget. Her stride didn't even falter as she approached it, bobbing her head with assurance. She flipped open her saddlebag and withdrew a thin, screwdriver-like tool with her mouth while she absent-mindedly asked Twilight, "So, is this the A or the B model?" There was no pause for an answer; the repairpony immediately used her hoof to pop open a large hatch on the cylindrical core of the machine.
Twilight rifled through paper and box in a haphazard search for a response. She stammered. Words bubbled up only to recede before they could be fully uttered, until at last all she could admit was, "It, uh... it doesn't say?"
"It's the A model," Gadget casually replied before she flung her forward half into the open hatch. Crisp sounds of shuffling metal and the jangle of springing wires rose up out of the mechanical tube as she set to work. She explained to the others, her voice taking on a bouncing, metallic timbre through the machine, that, "The first version of any MagiMax device is always the A model. It's implicit. And their hope is that they never need to put out any new letters. But sometimes... designs go wrong."
"Wrong how?" Spike asked.
"Oh, you know," she elaborated between the irregular snaps and whirs her efforts produced, "overengineering, not enough ventilation, parts not rated correctly... for any and every reason, really. If they knew what to look for, they wouldn't need to find it. Heh. That's ALSO something pop would always say."
James noted, somewhat hesitantly, "So, you're saying that this thing is defective."
"No. Well... yes. I mean no. I mean...," Gadget vacillated. Finally she hoisted her head up out of the machine to speak at them directly. "Yours here IS defective, insofar as it's BROKEN. Speaking in general, the A model of the Detectatron isn't defective... uh, initially anyway. Just mistakenly designed with a fault." She dove back in. "The B model fixes the fault that leads to defective machines, if you're following me."
The explanation was more than a little circumlocutious, and the fast delivery and oblique approach was enough to throw James off. He turned to Twilight with a shrug.
The unicorn did a better job of tracking Gadget's reasoning. She asked, "So, you think there's a design flaw which caused my Detectatron to break?"
"Think? Oh, I know it." A sharp, loud click came from inside the machine, and then a few moments later Gadget's tool flipped out of the hatch and into the air, tumbling in an arch before it landed precisely in her saddlebag. She pulled herself completely out of the device and resealed the hatch, ending her mechanical surgery. In her mouth was an extracted piece of the machine: a wide and flat hunk of metal with a couple of layers, torn grievously down its center. It was nearly shredded through, and Gadget held it carefully to avoid cuts from the splayed, jagged edges.
Showing it to them up close, she explained, "Torn lens aligner. This happens, the primary lens falls out of place, it trips the hardware fault sensor, and then the whole thing refuses to even start." Delicately she placed the debris into her bag and closed the flap. "See, when originally designed, they miscalculated exactly how much load could fall upon that little thing, so it's fairly common for it to tear with only a small amount of use. Common enough that the B model was put out almost right away to fix it. Literally the whole difference between the two models."
"Well... can you fix it?" Twilight trepidatiously asked.
The repairpony shrank back, sullen, knowing the disappointment she was going to bring. "You need a new part. You could get a replacement direct from MagiMax, special order. They're pretty generous in this kind of situation: send them proof you've got the A, they'll send back the part for the B. Would take a few days, though."
"Oh... I had really hoped that...," Twilight mumbled woefully, dropping off.
"Hey... tell you what, Twilight," Gadget offered, "It really isn't a complicated piece. I can dig up the specs and machine a replacement in my shop, no trouble. Just not right now. I need to handle my other business first. You let me take care of that and then I can pull everything together and crank out what you need by later today. No extra charge."
"Really?" The unicorn suddenly bounced back, delighted by the altruistic proposal. She smiled brightly as she bowed her head low in thanks, saying, "That's awfully kind of you! That would be fantastic, Gadget. Thank you so much!"
"Oh, quite welcome. Least I could do really; save you from waiting around for shipping," Gadget shrugged, simultaneously indulging in the appreciation while trying to maintain some modesty. In secret, an early evening spent metalworking sounded like a relaxing way to kill some time after the workday. She pledged, "I promise by this evening you and the zoo crew here will be picking up signals all the way out to the Everfree Forest!"
The "zoo crew" cast dim glances at her, but she gave them a friendly, playful wink in return.
Satisfied with her diagnosis and proposed solution, they started returning to the front door to see her out. As they went, Gadget said, "It's been a real pleasure. Again, I promise I'll be back with what you need before you know it. Heh, and then I'll throw the bill at you, of course."
"Alright. Thanks again!" Twilight answered with a chuckle. She opened the front door while the others gave their goodbyes.
One hoof out the door, Gadget said with a wave, "Until later, then. Got to head down to Sweet Apple Acres and see what they need."
"Oh, you're going to see Applejack!" Twilight immediately realized.
"Well crank my cogs! You know her too?" the repairpony expressed with surprise. She blew out a dry breath with a wag of her head before remarking, "Coincidences, coincidences... small world."
"She a good friend of mine," Twilight explained.
"Ah, well, if you don't mind my saying," Gadget voiced with eased caution, "her head can be a basket of apples when it comes to some machines. I've had to go down there more than I would like sometimes. You'd think a farm pony might know more about how her own equipment works. I'm telling you now, I bet I won't be surprised to find what I find when I get there." Her sentences squeezed together as she spoke, crushed close with an air of grievance.
Initially Twilight offered no response, not wanting to step into whatever disagreements the ponies shared. But, with an aside glance at James and a full realization of how her day's plan had already changed, she asked, "You know, Gadget, it's a bit of a walk to Sweet Apple Acres from here. Would you like some company?"
There was a damp, sweet moisture in the air. It was fresh and reinvigorating, engendering a comfortable walk out to the farm. The day was cleansed; past and present were purified; the drowned morning was erased from memory by the lively afternoon. Ponyville, too, had forgotten the gray rain, save for the wet shine it had left behind. Many ponies were out and about now. Some raced to complete tasks which hadn't been important enough to have braved the earlier rain for. Others were just out to enjoy the afternoon. With the storm fully passed, the great cloud it had brought over life went as well.
Walking together, Twilight, Gadget, and James ambled their way towards Sweet Apple Acres. Spike had stayed behind to prevent letting his chores get ahead of him. The thought of joining them had been enticing for a short while, but there were only so many free hours in the day and ultimately he had thought he didn't want to spend his watching Gadget fiddle with more machines.
The two ponies picked up their earlier reminiscences right where they had left off. Thoughts on old lessons passed on from Gadget's father, reflections on the grandeur and spectacle of Canterlot's regular fairs and festivals, and trading favorite dishes from the long since closed down Greasy Feedbag. With so much overlap in past experience, they wondered if perhaps they had met years ago, even if only briefly. In some ways it seemed almost impossible that they could've missed crossing each others' paths for all those years (Twilight pinned the failure on the reclusiveness she had exhibited growing up.) In other ways it didn't matter at all because now they had come together anyway and it was as if they had always known each other regardless.
At first, James still wasn't able to find much to say. Again, the old places and acquaintances which were brought up weren't anything or anyone he knew. The events, the festivals... they were all things that were a world apart from him. But as he continued to listen, the comparisons and differences seemed to drop away more and more. The specifics diminished in relevance, the casual manner in which they conversed popped out more, and all the previous undercurrents which would flaunt alienation, even distantly, just dissolved. When Gadget began relating a fond experience from the old, dingy restaurant, it was the first time that he felt something familiar fully push through to him. The others were a little surprised when he suddenly spoke.
"We never went out to eat much; Mom liked having everyone around the dinner table at home, together, so she went to great effort to cook for us. Probably was cheaper to stay in too. But when we did go out... there was that same kind of place in my town. It was called 'The Slim Drippings Grille.' Everything they served seemed to come out sloppy but delicious." His memories dredged up images of the restaurant's flickering neon sign, and as he spoke his hands couldn't help but repeat the old motions of handling crumbling, slippery food. That type of frisky cuisine which hardly discouraged a child from playing with their dinner. "And every meal they'd give your table a literal pail of peanuts on the side because... hey, peanuts. We'd eat'em and just throw the broken shells on the floor. Everyone else did!" he explained with some spontaneous excitement, again miming the action. In delivering that short story, he immediately felt snapped into their conversation.
"Haha, well that does sound like the kind of place to bring a little filly or colt," Gadget remarked. His broken silence prompted her to scrutinize him again, but whatever conclusion she drew, if any, must have been irrelevant to her because she merely carried on her thought, quipping, "Any place they're free to make a mess, right?"
"I guess! It certainly was my favorite," James said.
Twilight was delighted to hear him add his own thoughts in. His sedentary behavior since arriving in Equestria hadn't escaped her notice. In general she had tried to spend as much time with him as her other obligations would allow. The task of being his guide had been assigned to her specifically by Princess Celestia after all. To the best of her observation, she had never caught him really being active or engaged with others; a note which tugged gently at her worrisome nature. Finding him standing out in the rain still bothered her also, regardless of how he played it off. But she stressed onto herself a deliberate need to try and be understanding. He had been through a lot... was probably still going through a lot in fact, so maybe a little space was called for. For now, this little walk and talk was enough.
The open chitchat brought swiftness to their journey and sooner than expected the statuesque apple trees appeared beyond the wooden fence which divided the road from the farm; the first visible orchard on the way to Sweet Apple Acres. They turned to follow the path that ran up to the farmhouse but they weren't far in before they spotted Applejack in one of the orchards, hauling an overflowing basket of apples in the same direction. Twilight called out to her and she returned a jovial greeting, barely taken aback by Gadget's unexpected but not unwelcome accompaniment. With a wave, Applejack directed the others to head towards the barn where she immediately joined them after setting down her load.
"Twilight!" Applejack shouted, full of welcome. "So kind of you to come around this way, sugar cube! Now, this business or pleasure?"
"Pleasure. Just a friendly visit!" Twilight responded.
The farm pony returned a nod with a smile before she moved on to her next visitor. "Beanstalk! Crawled out of the old dustbin I see! (Pardon, Twilight.)" she called at James. She had barely seen any of him since his welcome party, but then again it wasn't like the farm tended to itself so maybe the chances just hadn't been there. Amicable and curious, she asked him, "I reckon you've been makin' some time to wander about Ponyville? Get to know the place right proper? What you been up to?"
"Ah, just reading," he admitted, feeling a measure of disappointment. Applejack had been the one to most strongly recommend he do some exploring, seek out some discovery, or really do anything that revolted against the nature of a shut-in. But most of his time in recent days had been filled with either flipping through Twilight's recommended books or sitting about, sometimes silently with his own thoughts and sometimes with whoever came by and asked to chat. He wasn't disappointed with himself for that behavior so much as he felt that innate twinge of lament that comes with letting someone down, even in a small way.
"Well, fiddlesticks!" Applejack moaned in dejection. It wasn't that she expected more of him. She hardly knew him enough to have accurate expectations. But still, what was healthy about never getting a little outside air? She pressed him, "Now I ain't one to be pushy, but you'll turn into a bookmark if you don't manage to pull your nose out those word-traps and see something outside that stuffy library. (Again, pardon, Twilight.)"
James shrugged. He thought about explaining himself but it was stopped by his own ignorance suddenly revealing itself. In his mind there was never anything against going out more, but the feelings of wanting to or needing to were never there. Rarely were responsibilities laid upon him which called for it. Thinking about it, he was even surprised to realize that he had also rarely ever summoned the energy to step out the door of his own will. He tried to produce reasons and justifications for it but anything he came up with rang hollow or seemed overly rationalized. So he left his response as no more than the bounce of his shoulders.
Applejack mulled for a moment but then gave him a hopeful nod. She turned her head towards the one guest that she had actually anticipated.
"Howdy," she greeted Gadget coldly. All of her friendly warmth evaporated in an instant, leaving nothing but a shell of forced politeness.
The chilly recognition was mirrored on the repairpony's side. "Hey... again," she replied, almost intentionally detached. "What do you have for me this time?"
"Darn hay baler's bein' as useless as a lullaby at a hoedown," Applejack bitterly complained.
"You don't say," Gadget retorted. When she had first left her shop in the morning she had predicted this particular piece of equipment would be the problem. It was a prediction which held enough certainty that she nearly drew up the bill before departing. This wasn't the first time she was called out for this, she doubted it would be the last, and when something is done the same repeatedly, to expect different results would just be insanity, right?
The enmity which had oozed into the air thickened. Applejack commented aloud, "Reckon it sure would be nice to have a baler that works when it's supposed to, and not one that's just an unsightly fixture fancying up our barn half the time."
"Yeah, that'd be great," the repairpony dryly answered with a frown. She beat the ground impatiently with a hoof.
Twilight was taken aback in a panicked silence, her eyes swerving back and forth between her old friend and her new friend. Gadget had made some slightly negative comments about Applejack before they had left but now that they had arrived things had somehow rapidly nosedived for the worse compared to anything she could have imagined. The two-way nature of this strange animosity especially confounded her. Cautiously, she forced herself to smile before she feigned a cough to clear her throat. "Ahem... so... uh... what exactly is the trouble, Applejack?"
Uttering an irked grunt, Applejack pushed open the barn doors to reveal the baler, left where it had been deposited after its failure to function. She directed to Gadget in a tone that was half-command, half-disdain, "Can you get on with your job so I can get on with mine, hm?"
Gadget breezed past the farm pony, giving a hard glare as she went. After a quick safety check on the controls to be positively sure the machine was completely disabled, she began her assessment. In particular, she immediately flocked to the intake, and before long she began prying off some panels in the same area.
Applejack watched briefly, shaking her head. She turned to leave but was caught by a concerned Twilight, who asked her quietly, "Hey, is everything alright, Applejack? You seem a little... upset."
Obviously strained, she replied, "Fine, fine. Aggravated, sure. But just behind schedule is all. All because this 'top-of-the-line' piece of junk can't get on top of startin' when we need it to."
"This sounds like something more than a late day working the farm, though," Twilight hinted.
"Sounds like a recurring problem," James tacked on. From the height of the engaging conversation on the road, he had again fallen into quiet observance. But it wasn't because he was pulled away from comfort or familiarity. In fact, the overt disagreement and derision between the two ponies reflected many older experiences of his which flashed dimly in his mind. Certainly it was what made Applejack's tone so undoubtedly recognizable to him; the sound of desperately wanting to vengefully squeeze the life out of the inherently lifeless. His curiosity had been drawn out by his perspective. Most of the time he felt he was treated as a guest or an oddity, with all the typical courtesy or reserve that comes along with those. It wasn't often, at least yet, that he got to see these casual rips and tears in the ponies' social fabric. The prior instance which stood out the most to him was his own experience under a suspicious Rainbow Dash. Seeing it again here, from a more removed view... it was hard to look away.
"Hmph, recurring is right," Applejack complained. She regarded the contraption like a tainted scrapbook, all the memories irredeemable because the few bad ones cast their shadow over the whole. "It has one simple job, the job it's named for, and it's like every dang time I turn around it has some problem doing it!"
Gadget pulled out of her deep evaluation. A certain amount of tension coursed through her. Perhaps she had seen (or heard) enough. Whether inflamed or annoyed, there was a stabbing quality in her voice when she commented directly at Applejack, "Balance my beams! Are you sure the problem isn't with you?"