"I don't think it's been cleaned out since the last time I came out here!" Gadget roared. A disappointed anger raced through her and she stared Applejack down with her deep, burning red eyes. "In fact, I'm sure it hasn't! Not even once!"
"Cleaned?!" Applejack spat back.
"Uh, yeah? I even told you last time! Word for word, I said, 'Shreds of hay and flecks of other garbage have been building up inside. You need to clean it out every now and again.'" The memory of her old instructions had crystallized in her mind, serving as ready fuel for her fury by having gone unheeded. She pressed herself right into the farm pony's face, trying somehow to force her point into Applejack through sheer will, and she exclaimed, "I spelled it out for you plain as day! You don't clean it, you risk clogging it up!"
But Applejack wasn't easily intimidated and she stood her ground. Pushing back, she countered, "Now listen here! A shovel shovels and a plow plows, so all I ask is that you fix this contraption so we can go back to having a baler that bales!"
Deeply anxious, Twilight tried to insert herself between them, weakly saying, "Um, excuse me... maybe... maybe if-"
The arguing ponies thrust themselves into each other, each trying to drive the other back with their assertions.
"What do you think I'm trying to do?!" Gadget sarcastically shouted.
"Flap your trap at me and NOT fix it, looks like from here!"
"It's just going to keep happening again and again if I don't fix the source, WHICH IS YOU!"
"I don't go sabotaging it just to hassle you!"
"Oh you don't maintain it like you're supposed to, so what's the difference?!"
Angrily Gadget broke off and returned to the machine. She gripped the engine cover and recklessly tried to wrest it open. Her wild frustration caused her to fail in her first attempt and the baler shook in response. Through her clenched teeth she called aloud, "I suppose when I look in here I'll find nopony has given it a once-over? A little too much to ask that somepony might've gotten out here to check on the engine?"
Applejack huffed, "Well now how should I know?"
"Wind my winch! Because you're the owner!" Gadget moaned in annoyance before she gave the engine cover a sudden, violent yank. It swung open, the hinges let up an ear-piercing creak, and the whole baler rattled as it absorbed the blow. "It's your business to know!"
"Okay, alright," Twilight again tried to intercede, "if we could all just-"
Refusing to let the repairpony have the last word, Applejack stomped up to her and slammed the cover closed in her face. Defiantly the farm pony snarled, "What's your point? Sugar cube, when we were looking at buying it, the salespony wouldn't shut her cotton-pickin' yap about how AY-MAZING it was, and we wouldn't believe our eyes, and she'd be a monkey's auntie if we ever saw a pony bale as fast as it could, and all other manner of hoo-hah!"
"It's a tightly designed machine! It certainly could be a baling miracle if you gave it the fair chance to be!" retorted Gadget.
She harshly nudged Applejack aside and flipped the cover back open. The farm pony prepared to retaliate by smashing it shut again, but both ponies were brought still when James suddenly raised his voice.
He tried to be loud enough to easily drop himself between their aggressive exchange but he deliberately attempted to avoid sounding combative. He certainly didn't want to dump more fuel onto their fire. Towards the farm pony he said, "Applejack, the point is that the machine... is just a machine. It's built to do a job, and it can do that job, but only if it's kept in the shape to do so."
Gesturing to him, Gadget mordantly called out, "Thank you! Somepony paying attention!"
Outnumbered, Applejack looked between her two verbal assailants and scowled. "Hardly worth getting it in the first place if I always have to be lookin' after it," she bitterly complained. "Coulda taken that money and hired an extra hoof instead. A good, hardworking pony'll do their job right, on their own, once they get the know how. That's the Apple way. No always keeping your eyes over their shoulder or babying them into doing nothing. Just good, hard work."
"This baler can be better than any hardworking pony," Gadget insisted. She thrust a hoof into Applejack's nose and said, "Think of it like this: if you didn't keep in shape, you wouldn't be able to carry a quarter-bushel of apples; forget even bucking a tree." Redirecting her hoof to the machine, she continued, "Well, likewise, the baler needs to be kept in shape too, and it needs your help to do that. Then, THEN, it'll churn out bales like a champion. Faster and better than any help you could ever hire!"
Applejack cast a doubtful eye at the repairpony, her attitude no less quarrelsome than before. She responded with dismissal, "Uh-huh. I've heard that style of hogwash before, and it didn't hold no cider. From a couple charlatans touting up their own worthless widget, as I recall."
"Excuse me?!" Gadget fumed, incensed at the insinuation.
"ALRIGHT!" Twilight blared, finally securing the attention of the others. "Alright, alright! Enough! Let's just... everypony calm down... take a step back... breathe a little... (breathe, Twilight, breathe!)... and maybe... maybe we can figure this out without so much... hostility." She gasped for air, halting quickly when she realized her outburst had succeeded in bringing the battle to a standstill.
"Ahem, right, ah," Twilight babbled before she swiftly retook control of herself. Facing the two ponies one at a time, she addressed them with understanding, "Applejack, I realize that you're upset. This unexpected set of circumstances has thrown your whole day out of order and left you behind schedule. And Gadget, I realize that you're also upset because you see how this situation could have been avoided with some proper upkeep."
Each of the ponies nodded at the words which respectively referred to them, acknowledging her assessment of their grievances.
Reaching out to each of them, Twilight concluded, "So, it sounds to me like you two are in the perfect position to help each other out. You just need to set aside your differences and do it."
There was a low groan from the embattled ponies. A whine of unwillingness that accompanied the indirect glances they took at each other.
"Gadget, would you please get started on cleaning it out?" Twilight asked politely. To ensure absolute clarity, she immediately appended, "And, if you could please, try to show Applejack exactly what you are doing?"
The repairpony wavered, a complaint stalling on her trembling lips. She wanted to protest about having had run this course in the past only to have had it fall on deaf ears, but in the end she sighed with a relinquished nod and turned her attention to the disabled device.
From Applejack came only an evasive look. Eyes which questioned the necessity of the unicorn's proposal and begged for another solution. But Twilight forced a sober stare back and Applejack surrendered. As she joined Gadget, she muttered under her breath, "Let's just get this over with."
James leaned his back against the sturdy, red wood of the barn wall. Things had gone from storm to calm rather abruptly by his expectations, and he watched with all the keener interest. Was it a lack of pride to defend? It didn't seem like it; they both held firm to their positions and they obviously still bore their grudges even if they were working towards reconciliation. What of his own past conflicts? What troubles with others had he never let go of because he had found the ramshackle, failing bridge that was their acquaintance to be too unbearable to cross or simply not worth repairing? He had never much dwelled on the regret of those lost connections, but he couldn't see whether that blindness was from anger, disappointment, or some other such emotion. The race to move on had always seemed more important.
He told himself that he would have plunged headlong into exploring the many avenues of thought which were opening up in his head; if he wasn't so caught upon observing these ponies, that is. Instead he secretly delighted in this diversion unfolding before him; this turn away from his more modern thoughts.
Leading Applejack around the baler, Gadget pointed at its mouth, highlighting the various shredded clumps of hay and other debris that were caught inside the chute. "Now, you see all this garbage in here?" she asked. Carefully stretching her head in, she grabbed the largest cluster of hay and ripped it out before dropping it onto the dirt. "All this has to come out. It builds up in there, and eventually when the machine starts up and tries to work its parts, it can't. And if it can't, for even the slightest reason, it stops. So every time you use it, take a good look in there and see how it's doing."
"It's not really going to save me any time if I have to crawl in there and yank things out all the time," Applejack griped as she peered inside. Truthfully, she had never actually looked into the machine, and at seeing it now even she would admit that it seemed tremendously glutted. Not that she would ever speak that thought out loud after the fuss she had just made.
"Well, you don't have to clean it out every single time that you use it," clarified Gadget. "Now and again is fine. Just inspect it every time, keep tabs on it, so you know how it's doing. Grab the big chunks yourself, and get a hold of something that can really blast air to give it a deep cleaning."
Grunting a reluctant acknowledgment, Applejack carefully examined one of the openings, readying herself for her own attempt at hay extraction.
"Watch yourself; there's some blades in there," Gadget warned. However, with those words she almost instantly recognized that she had soared over some important details and held the farm pony back by her tail. "Wait, wait, hold on," she commanded, "over here, I've got to point this out. You see this switch here? This is the safety switch. Now, don't ever go in there without making absolutely sure the safety switch is on. When the switch is up, it blocks the engine from ever starting, so it can't turn on while you're in there. See?" The switch was already enabled, since toggling it was naturally the first that thing Gadget had done when she had started her inspection. In demonstration, the repairpony quickly gave the engine pull cord a go with one perfectly executed yank, but just as she had explained there was no sign nor sound of life. The mechanism sat deader than it had been all morning. "Always, ALWAYS check the switch first, no exceptions," she emphasized emphatically.
"Alright," Applejack nodded, half-heartedly flipping the switch down then up to somehow show some sort of mastery over the lesson. She returned to the opening and cautiously withdrew her first bundle of remnant hay, muttering, "A switch that makes it broken... now I've seen everything."
"What? No," the repairpony objected as she pressed herself alongside Applejack to assist in the cleaning task. "It doesn't 'break' anything! It's a safety switch. It's to save you from accidentally losing a hoof in here. Safety practice makes safety perfect."
As they pulled out more waste, Twilight stepped up and organized their mess, floating the discarded refuse into a neat pile off to the side. She chuckled at Gadget's words. Not from finding them amusing but because she recalled some of those exact words from the repairpony's father. By instinct or design, the focus and direction that the impromptu lesson had taken was very reminiscent of the lessons she had once had under the old stallion. Brimming with all the memories this familiar circumstance brought up, the unicorn extended the wisdom of her old instructor's words, saying, "Safety should always be a very important concern, if not the most important concern, with any high-powered machinery. Any pony with common sense should be careful to guard themselves from the dangerous parts of the machine. And any well-built machine should be careful to guard the ponies using it or servicing it. Like the switch, which is there to protect you from accidental activations and getting baled like... well... hay."
There was another restrained but affirming murmur from Applejack as she continued to pry loose hay out of the inner workings of the device.
"That's very interesting about the start-up check on this baler," Twilight idly mused. Suddenly curious, she asked Gadget, "Does it really... not start if it can figure out that there's too much leftover hay inside?"
Gadget shook off some of the dust and dirt which clung to her and invited Twilight to peek inside. "Well, take a look. There's a lot of precisely timed moving parts in there: chains, wheels, blades, a plunger to move the hay about... more on the other side, too. It's important that all these parts move in synchronization. So, when the baler tries to run it'll give everything a good whirl and if even a single one of them doesn't move like expected or can't move at the right rate then the engine is killed automatically, before it can seriously get going."
Twilight briefly looked inside the machine herself, scanning the internal pieces, before she backed up and just merely paced about the device. She studied it. Her mind deconstructed it, breaking down its assembly and separating its interlocking parts, regressing all the way back to blueprints, and she smiled eagerly as each logical jump lead so perfectly into the next. The instant where her understanding came to absolute completion was obvious to everyone present; she just seemed to pop with excitement. Simply like that, her mind's eye could move freely over the machine, from the widest vista of design down to the tiniest minutia of functionality. It all just worked to her.
"Now that I really think about it," she remarked, "it actually is quite delicate for what is supposed to be a 'heavy-duty' piece of equipment. I mean, it doesn't take much to halt it from working correctly. The Detectatron too! That one little torn piece of metal froze the whole thing."
"'Delicate' maybe isn't the word you're looking for," James replied with a voice rolling in consideration. "I dunno, I mean... I can't say with specifics how these machines work, especially that detector thing... it's just not something I know about. But, they are complex machines." He looked over the baler, his head tilted, but he couldn't quite analyze it like Twilight could. Speaking only from his general understanding, he said, "Like, there's a base of simple principles that they're built upon. Their foundation. And from those principles you build up and up until you get to actual mechanics and function, so... of course if you kick out one of the legs the whole table falls, but that's not the same thing as being delicate."
Gadget danced a hoof along the many exposed pieces of the baler, saying, "Twilight, this thing has quite a bit of force behind it. If there ever was a jam, it could damage its own parts badly. Very, very badly. Making sure it doesn't run in those situations protects the machine! And certainly that helps protect anypony working with it. Dangerous to work with if it's running wild... could get some nasty cuts." Cautiously she moved her hoof along one of the many chains and she gave it a soft pull. The tug just faintly caused the connected pieces on either end to twinge. She followed the sequence of parts along until it came to a bladed wheel which she tapped lightly, nearly pricking herself, while she stared at Twilight with wary eyes, silently speaking of the danger.
Calling back to the other broken device, Gadget mentioned, "As far as the Detectatron goes, it's really the same thing... only different. What if it TRIED to keep working despite the torn lens aligner? Then what happens?"
"Oh, I get it!" Twilight immediately responded. "Then from the outside it appears to work, only it isn't actually working properly. Any results we got would be, at best, obviously wrong and, at worst, seemingly right but actually incorrect."
"Yeah," James nodded, "and a machine that's secretly wrong would be really insidious. That blind trust that goes into a tool... you barely question how it works unless you know better. You don't want to question it! It's just supposed to get the job done. I mean, look at Applejack." His remark elicited yet more indistinct muffling from the farm pony.
Intently taking in the arguments, Twilight pondered over them momentarily before concluding, "So much design, but that just gives it so many more points of failure. I get that 'failing' and 'broken' are different things, and that 'not working' can be an intentional facet of design... but I'd still say that makes these big pieces of equipment rather delicate."
"Well, complicated," James disagreed again.
"Maybe complicated is delicate?" Twilight volunteered.
Withdrawing the last of the large hay clogs, Applejack spat it on the ground before she spewed out at the others, "Complicated my apple-printed hindquarters! Only bought the darn thing so we wouldn't have to handle so much baling ourselves. Just wanted something to make things real simple-like. Something to get the job done, like you said, Beanstalk."
"I can really see how nursing machines wouldn't be for you," giggled Twilight while she swept up the last of the ejected hay. "You're always more than happy to work up a sweat and get your hooves dirty. If there's a well to dig, you'd sooner reach for a shovel than get behind a backhoe."
"Get more of a workout anyway," James laughed, in part from trying to picture one of the ponies making use of a traditional shovel. "Still," he added with some thought, "those kind of things are really on different levels. Like, shovels and backhoes, I mean. What is a shovel? A metal wedge on a stick?"
"The way you mean it, even less. It's a lever," was Gadget's reductive comment.
James snapped his fingers and pointed at the repairpony, latching onto her suggestion instantly. "Right, exactly! They're all mechanical systems. Even the shovel is just part of a simple system: you and it. Where you provide all the power and complexity. But a big machine like this baler, or a backhoe, or whatever... they're way bigger, more intricate systems."
Leaning up against the baler and tapping it with pride, Gadget declared, "They're things of beauty, is what they are. Precisely engineered; the amalgamation of thought, design, and principle; parts working together to sum up to a greater whole, all assembled to achieve some task with exacting specificity." She stood back from the baler and gazed reverently upon it as she said, "Paintings are just colored liquid on paper. This! THIS! This is real art!"
Not even a boisterous jamboree would have hidden Applejack's suppressed, dismissive laughter as she dusted off her hat. "Sure, sugar cube, sure. I'm still gonna have to say this li'l old work of art here was probably a waste of bits. It would of been the smarter choice to hire a pony."
"Waste? No, no, no. This'll definitely save you money in the end," Gadget asserted, "once you actually start taking care of it. No need to pay it a wage like a working pony. Pay for it once, done."
"There's more to consider than just that," Twilight pointed out. Gadget's muzzle wrinkled in regretful consideration as the unicorn lectured, "Aside from the maintenance cost, which in this case might be higher than is typical because this baler hasn't been properly cared for but would still be an ongoing cost in time or money regardless... and aside from the larger economic implications of spreading wealth out to more ponies through work-for-hire... and aside from the social implications of building a network of contacts..." The flood of accessory concerns nearly threw her off course and she had to focus to get back on track. "Uh, anyway, what I meant to say is that hiring a working pony is, quite simply, more versatile than a machine. Even if they couldn't match the baler in baling, there's a lot of other things Applejack could have them do while they're on the job."
"Okay, sure, I can't really argue that one. So I'll give you that point," conceded the repairpony, but there wasn't even a hair of a second between her allowance and her rapid counter, "Consider this, though! You could have a machine bought or built to do just about any individual job that a pony could do. There would be some upfront cost to be sure, but with a little time and smart budgeting you could have a cleanly organized, reliable, mechanical workforce that performs better in each area and, again, saves you the wage cost in the long run."
Again holding in her laughter at the eternal ridiculousness she felt was pouring from Gadget's mouth, Applejack shook her head and said, "I can see your perfect farm is dead like a graveyard; nothing but robots growing fruits and vegetables they couldn't even enjoy."
"I don't know about 'perfect', but it'd certainly be the most efficient," Gadget cockily replied.
"Efficient? In what way?" came back the challenge.
"Uh, output, obviously," Gadget said with slight confusion.
"Ah, that's not all that goes into a good farm!" Applejack affirmed with conviction.
The two arguing ponies started to push into each other once again, but this time the resentment and anger was notable for its absence. Each of the ponies were irrepressible, having something they were determined to say, but shouting out the other no longer seemed important. Whatever it was that had brought them down a notch, James noted that Twilight must have felt it too because she didn't seem nearly as concerned as before.
"Good or not, it's certainly what makes a profitable farm!" Gadget insisted.
"Tarnation! You've got to keep afloat, sure, but then what? What good is a basket-load of extra apples if they're not apples you can be proud of?" the farm pony asked.
Gadget's eyes lit up. She knew she had something insightful to say. "You wouldn't be proud to have the apple supplies to actually keep up with demand during cider season?"
Applejack faltered at first but recovered quickly, confidently stating, "Dang straight I wouldn't be proud if'n they weren't apples that didn't have the real heart and soul we put into all our crop here at Sweet Apple Acres."
"Angle my axle! What does that even mean? An apple is an apple!"
Suddenly just a little bit smarmy, Applejack turned aside and grinned. With a deliberate, if playful, tone she expressed aloud, "Oh, you understand of course, apples are a thing of beauty. Carefully grown; raised with a tender hoof from seed to tree to fruit; bucked at just the perfect time when they're fresh as a spring day, to make sure they're the most crisp, juiciest, and downright succulent little morsels that were ever harvested. Paintings are just some color on paper. But apples? Apples is real art."
Refusing to accept Applejack's logic, Gadget dimly hummed at the clever turnabout.
"Actually, it's worth noting," Twilight interjected, "that in the past a couple of ponies came into town and challenged Applejack's family to a cider squeezing contest with their contraption, the... the Super... Easy Squeezy... Speedy... something." Again she had to steer away from her self-induced befuddlement and she jumped back to her core message, "Anyway, they actually did manage to out-produce the Apple family, but in the end the quality of their cider was sub-par. Even though they squeezed more barrels, everypony preferred the Apple family's cider instead."
Applejack beamed with proud approval, recalling the event herself, but Gadget rocked with uncertainty while rubbing her chin. "I'd say," the hesitant pony finally decided, "that if their cider wasn't as good, all that really means is that they didn't build a good enough machine."
"Pfffbt, oh no, uh uh," the farm pony responded. "Their hunk-a-junk Greasy Squeezy was garbage that couldn't squeeze the suds out of a wet sponge. It lost, we won, end of story."
"Hold on, back up for a second," requested James, who hadn't been able to completely follow their conversation once they started drawing on past events. He directly asked Applejack, "You were in... a cider making contest... and-"
"Some yahoos from out of town came in and tried to show us better with their fancy whatsit, but they weren't up to snuff," she concisely delivered.
"Okay," he replied while he pulled everything together in his head. "Point being that they made more, but worse, cider, right? If so, I'd really have to agree with Gadget on this. Either their Please-a-Squeeze thing wasn't good enough, or maybe they compromised some standards to meet their production schedule, or whatever. The thing is, and I said this before, a machine is just a machine." He tried to gesture meaningfully, as if he could maybe draw out something deeper from the self-evident statement, but it ended up seeming no less circular. Feeling forced to ramble until he stumbled on a hopefully better description, he meandered, "They don't figure things out on their own. They don't... work on things, or try to do things. They only... do. They do whatever it is they've been made to do. And only as well as they've been made. And only as well as they're being operated! So... if there's some failure, it's not REALLY on the machine's part. The failure is on the part of people- ah, the... ponies? The ponies who made it or were using it."
"Yeah," Gadget agreed, saying, "So long as it's maintained, any well-built device is going to be consistent. If it winds up being consistently bad," she peeked towards Applejack, "(and again, if it's also being cared for properly) then that's the fault of the makers or operators."
"That consistency... that's sort of the whole reason you build something like that," James emphasized. "It eliminates those mistakes that can come from human- ah, pony error. If you give a person- agh, I mean- a pony enough time and practice then they can eventually be very, very consistent... but they'll always make occasional mistakes. A well-oiled machine WILL do the same job, the same way, at the same quality, ALWAYS."
"That's true, I suppose. Or at least, that's certainly the idea," Twilight said, holding back some reservation. "But... in example... I happen to believe that there's a difference between hoof-squeezed cider and machine-pressed cider. Even if the Super Squeezing-Cheesing machine hadn't been pushed beyond what it could handle, and ignoring any cider supply problems that would affect their opinions, I think in the big picture many of the citizens of Ponyville would have chosen the Apple family's cider anyway."
James puzzled over her opinion, scratching his head. Swimming in doubt, he told her, "But... there's no difference...? They're the same exact cider if you build the machine right. Duplicate the cider-making scenario as exactly as possible... and then what comes out is literally the same thing!"
"Maybe so," she openly admitted, "but other ponies would still choose the manually made cider. They'd even pay a premium for it."
"That...," he began, but froze up. It all suddenly descended upon him. Free range, organic, fair trade, brand name, and so many other things jumped into his mind. Marketing gimmicks maybe, but maybe not. How many times had he personally passed over the store brand in favor of the brand name? And why? He realized aloud, "That's... absolutely right! Woah. I guess... that perception, itself, makes the difference between them?"
"Wait, what? What difference?" Gadget questioned. "You were right before. They're the same cider. Squeezed differently, but the same cider."
"No," he shook his head, "they're not. I mean, yes, you can test them in a lab, get nine out of ten scientists to agree they have the exact same chemical makeup or whatever, but... if people- agh, PONIES- if ponies value that hand- HOOF-pressed quality, even if it can't be seen or felt objectively... if they value it to the point of paying a premium, then that trait, imagined or not, IS the difference between the two ciders. It becomes a real quality. Real, if intangible. And ignoring that quality wouldn't be smart business."
Slipping closer to him, Twilight said to James in a low voice, "You know, you can just say 'people'? It's understandably a bit of a strange dialect but it's hardly unintelligible. We'll still understand what you're saying."
"Pee-what now?" Applejack asked, mildly taken aback.
"... I'll understand what you're saying anyway," Twilight finished.
Brushing the statements aside, Applejack perked up in sudden realization. She called out to Gadget, "As mighty edifying as all this is, the baler's cleaned out. So... are we done here?"
"Well, it could use a good air blasting to push out the smallest bits, but yeah, it'll probably work now," Gadget guessed, "but let me have a closer look at the engine. Do a round of regular maintenance on it while I'm here anyway."
"Okay, and anything I'm needed for?" the farm pony moaned.
Gadget shrugged ambiguously, stating, "If you want to learn a thing or two. Grapple with the basics on what you should be looking for with regards to signs of trouble." With a smirk, she duly turned her attention to the machine.
Heaving a deep groan, Applejack declined, "No thank you, enough with the learnin' already."
"Oh, I think it's been very interesting!" Twilight admitted. Applejack's disagreement registered plainly with a stiff face and rolling eyes, but when the unicorn glanced over at James she caught him still thoughtfully following along. Again more than happy to see him attentive and active, rather than brooding with the same quiet guardedness which had flooded much of his time since his arrival, she felt a compulsion to try and continue things, if only for a little bit longer. She asked him, "Wouldn't you agree, James?"
He stared back at her loosely, letting up half of a shrug. "Sort of. This whole back and forth makes me think of the Industrial Revolution."
"Revolution?" She drew out the word cautiously.
"A big period of technological development, years and years and years ago, way before my time," he elaborated. "A whole bunch of machines were invented that allowed a huge number of traditionally made things to be produced automatically. Or, more automatically anyway. And on a much larger scale. Sort of like what we've been talking about here. At the time, a lot of... people," he nodded at his word choice, "switched from farming or other crafts to work in the factories that were springing up."
"Oh no, not me!" Applejack hastily testified. Ever inch of her, from tail to hat, wagged with rejection. "I don't care what kind of hay baling, apple squashing, cotton picking, all-in-one whirly-doo's you bring on over, I ain't never leaving this farm for no factory! Or turning it into one! This baler is the last machine for a long while, I say!"
Twilight grinned in amusement at her friend's overflowing, but here wholly unnecessary, dedication. After what happened with the cider squeezing contest there was hardly the threat of being driven off her own farm by an army of machines anytime soon. But it sounded like things had gone differently where James was from. She asked him, "So, they all gave up on their farms?"
"I remember learning that it was mostly a matter of economics," he answered. "Obviously there would still have been the need to grow all the crops, or raise the animals. The factories weren't farm-replacing. And they made a lot of different things; more than just foods. Like textiles, for instance. Industrialists were buying up land and manufacturing goods at a rate way beyond traditional methods." He hesitated before continuing, never completely comfortable with the more gritty details, "So, it gave them a lot of new economic power that let them wedge their way into a huge number of markets and just... buy people out, or force them off their land. Those people had to go somewhere, so a lot went to work at the factories to earn their living."
"I suppose that makes sense in some ways," Twilight told him. "Unable to compete, former artisans might capitalize on their knowledge to try and get employed in a factory. In that setting of industrial expansion, I mean."
"Yeah, that's kind of what happened to some folks," James said, "pushed out, didn't have their own metaphorical cider, or couldn't learn to do something else to get by. But I don't think their previous skills were of much value in the factories."
"Really?" she responded curiously. "I think knowledge of the production process for whatever they make would be useful, or at least stand out on a resume."
He waved his arms to block her from going further off course. "Knowing about the process, or the product it makes, is a different thing than understanding the machines that automate it," he said to her. "Building them or understanding them is usually going to take some specialized mechanical knowledge. No, no, what a factory manager would really want is for their machines to be as easy to use as possible so that they can hire any unskilled laborer to operate them. Less specialized knowledge needed, less to pay the employee. In other words, all the 'knowledgeable parts' of the process should be built into the machine."
"'A matter of economics'," Twilight repeated his words to herself. Then she summarized out loud, "Have the machine do as much as it can because it's reliable and consistent, and somepony is there only to watch and direct as necessary."
James silently affirmed her statement.
The thought stuck in her head however, and the unicorn rambled, "There are some spells that could maybe take things a step further. Getting the hay baler to seek out hay on its own, for instance." But she withdrew the idea instantly, remarking, "Actually, that sort of magic can be difficult to get right without attentively monitoring and adjusting the spell so... I guess it would be the same thing either way. Somepony to watch the machine, or somepony to watch the spell on the machine!"
"No way, no how, not here," Applejack repeated, ever defiant. "Putting good ponies out of their honest work so they can baby-sit machines? No siree!"
"I don't know if it would happen here," James flatly stated, "but when the situation changes so drastically, like the Industrial Revolution, you either adapt or fail. Gotta make ends meet."
"Hm, such drastic changes are not really for everypony though," Twilight opined. "Many ponies' special talents are an integral part of themselves. I don't think Applejack could ever be truly happy without having a apple orchard to buck in her backyard."
Once more James offered a light shrug. "Not for everyone, sure. But what makes you happy isn't all what gets you by. Sometimes you have to do what gets the job done, regardless of how you feel about it. I guess all I can really say is that if there were ever a real need for more apples, and machines could be brought in to do that... you couldn't justify accepting the consequences of holding onto the old farm just for sentimentality, could you?"
Quietly Twilight considered everything, not having an immediate answer that she was comfortable giving with certitude.
But Applejack lacked no such reserve. "Aw, horsefeathers, like a runaway train I could!" she swore. "I'll say again, so everypony take note so it'll always be remembered how it is here at Sweet Apple Acres: I'll eat my hat before I ever let this apple farm turn into an apple factory."
"As a hypothetical, though...," James started to ask.
"As if that could ever be the case!" the indignant farm pony insisted. "If it comes to it, I'll go to the ends of Equestria if I have to in order to bring in the extra hooves who'll get the job done just as well. Don't need no fancy doodads. Their ain't nothing that one of those mechano-whatsits can do that I couldn't live without."
"Oh, now you can't say that with such certainty," the man replied. "There's a lot of really miraculous things that technology can do. I get that maybe there's not the quite the same view here because... maybe magic fills some of that purpose?" He tossed the thought around in his head momentarily. "And maybe I shouldn't be surprised... there's a famous saying that goes something like, 'Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'"
Immediately Twilight bounced her head negatively, saying, "While some of the fundamental principles of magic can be likened to the-"
"Drain my ducts, Twilight!" Gadget laughed, pulling back from her inspection. With more chuckles buried under her voice, she continued, "That's not what he's saying. What he's saying is, 'if you don't know how it works, it might as well be magic.'"
"But, magic has a very clearly defined-"
"Not the spirit of the expression, Twilight!" Gadget managed to get out before breaking down in laughter.
Unsure if there was a way to overcome the unicorn's confusion, James apologetically offered, "Maybe it wasn't the best expression to use here. The point was, technology can be made that can do some really incredible things. Things that just... can't be done otherwise. Back home, anyway. There's no magic, but a lot of the inventions that came about could do some really magical things... in the more mystical use of the word."
Trying to cast away some of the more military options from her mind, Twilight sifted through the different things from his world that she remembered him mentioning. This whole transdimensional situation presented an inevitable amount of culture shock and, with his arrival still being recent, a sizable portion of all their dialogues so far had rightly fallen into the category of cultural exchanges. Quite quickly one item came to her mind, particularly for how pervasive it seemed to be where he was from.
Invitingly she asked, "You mean, like the Internet?"
"Yeah, that's a great example actually. Particularly, I think, because it's such a regular part of life that it's completely taken for granted, even though it doesn't take much thinking to stumble upon just how unbelievable and... magical it is, if you get me." His voice diminished, faded with a splash of mundane memories mixed with retroactive, awestruck worship. Does a miracle happening every day make it less of a miracle? The ponies certainly thought nothing of building a raincloud, guiding it into position, organized and synchronized with hundreds of others like it, and casting down their stormy payload on command. Just another storm for just another day. Yet no doubt somewhere you would find a pony who, towards those clouds, had the same special brand of enthusiasm like what Gadget had towards machines. One who saw every drop as the glorious result of a magnificently functioning system. It wasn't really different with technology. In the moment, not much is thought about it when that mail, or picture, or pizza order absolutely has to go out immediately. But it was like the storm. Or even the baler. Maybe it takes one hundred gears and a dozen chains all moving in perfect, purposeful synchronization to chop up and package a bale of hay. It also takes hundreds of wires and dozens of protocols appropriately collaborating to translate and carry that little electronic message or picture around the world just to simply drop it somewhere else.
No longer nose-deep in the machine, Gadget followed James expectantly, drawn in with compounding interest. Catching wind of her attention, he was more than glad to give context and was almost prideful in describing it to her. "Connected computers, basically. Uh... processing, input, output. Put a unit like that in every home, every workplace, everywhere, the world over... then just connect them all together. Anything you can encode as an electrical signal can be passed between them at the speed of light. More or less," he explained.
"So, kind of like a big, elaborate circuit," Gadget guessed. "The biggest, if it would have to reach across town. Or across towns, in the plural."
"Sure. But that's the beauty. So simple in one sense, but so many possibilities in a larger sense. Anything that you can encode as an electrical signal can be transmitted," James reemphasized. "ANYTHING. You want to talk to your dad, you don't need to travel to Canterlot or mail a letter. With cameras that turn what they see into signals and microphones that do the same, you can talk to him from your home to his, in real time, as if he were standing right in front of you."
"Ah, I get you," the observant pony realized. "Yeah, even complicated things, like a film strip, can be reduced to simple expressions, and then those expressions into a signal. Might be a pretty long string of expressions and an even longer signal for some things though! But then that's what the processing components are for, right?" The fundamental concepts came to her obviously, lacking any punch of surprise, but she couldn't pin down a specific image of it being integrated into her society. She likened it more to a thought experiment, and eventually a sort of abstract appreciation spread across her face and she said, "It's clever, and sounds impressive. But I think the thing the really strikes me about it is the staggering scale it would need. Every home, you say? That's a lot of crossed wires and signals."
He groaned, "Not literally every home, but-"
"I imagined. But still!"
"Oh. Yeah," he laughed. "There's diagrams of the wire topography. It's like wrapping the world in a spiderweb. A tangled techno-net caught around everything." With an ounce of a gesture towards the repairpony's work on the baler he commented, "Don't envy whoevers' job it is to do upkeep on that mess."
Twilight had already gotten many stories about this mythical technology from him. It had a tendency to come up from the most ordinary sources: explanations about why he'd never written a traditional letter, or how he'd literally talked frequently to others he hadn't seen in ages, or (most glaringly to her) how he didn't know how to use a library. But in reevaluating it now she started to see what was meant in the adage he had quoted earlier. This Internet was a bit like a fantasy story. Hearing about all that it is and does had that same ethereal feeling that could also come from reading about an imaginary place in a book. The distinction was that somewhere, in some far off place, it was real. Then, the Internet to her... was just like magic was to him, wasn't it? Like the difference between a factory worker minding a machine as opposed to a unicorn channeling a spell over it.
She spoke up, "I don't think I could even begin to imagine how something like that could ever be put together. Especially without magic."
"Ha, I can't imagine how it would be built on any practical level, either," Gadget merrily admitted. "But I see the principles, and they work. Might be tough without any sort of spell module, but I bet if you could discover a way to really refine everything down, compact it all in, it could be done. Probably would be a lot easier with magic, though." Even without an understood implementation it was apparent how immensely she enjoyed the theory of it all.
"Well, there's no-" James began, before dodging out of having to give more extended explanations. He simply tapped his forehead and said, "There's no people with horns. So there was no choice but to build it without magic, really."
"Mmm. If I ever get to traveling again, I think it's something I might like to see!" the repairpony declared to a cool, uncertain reception by James. "I don't know if I'd ever get out as far as... wherever it is you said you were from, but it definitely sounds like something that has to be seen to be believed."
Somewhere along the line Applejack had lost her hold on the conversation, both from the increasingly esoteric details but also from her draining interest. Their words still bombarded her ears but they mostly passed on through, with only a scant few being caught. Her voice was weak and withdrawn when she loosely spoke, saying, "I don't get it... built a fancy mailbox..."
"Any information, Applejack, not just mail," corrected James. "Pictures, or more, of somewhere far away you're planning to visit... connect with other farmers you don't know across Equestria to exchange thoughts on the growing season... get lessons on how to play a musical instrument you've always wanted to play even though there's no teacher in town..." He felt a little overwhelmed trying to describe it all, again mired in all the ways it seemed so regular to him. Leaning forward, he begged the farm pony, "If you could imagine... all the information of a library, all the products of every market, and a link to everybody who cares to share anything at all, just bundled up together into one thing... that's what it is. And it's wherever you are, so you never have to go anywhere to get to it."
She was sure by his confidence that there was something fantastical in his labyrinth of words but she couldn't work together her attention enough to visualize it. The only thing she really got out of all that he had said was that he seemed to be justifying his own lethargy. Blankly, she asked, "So, is that why you're always tucked away in the library? Not used to going out much?"
"What?" he murmured back confounded, and even a tad bit offended.
"Necessity isn't what drives social interaction for most ponies," Twilight said in his defense, but her thought seemed to lose steam as it came out. She flashed back to her life in Canterlot, where she had often walked down its streets with a book in her face, praying not to be noticed, on her way to some place or another as her schedules had demanded. How some days it had been the open air of the city that had been so confining and suffocating, and it had been the many books at her disposal that had expanded her life into free, populated worlds. How maybe her past-self's selective seclusion had been responsible for having never had bumped into somepony she would have actually liked to know, like Gadget. If the choice had ever been solely presented to her, she might not have left Canterlot. There had to have been some iteration of her at the time, certainly with all that pride of being the Princess's personal pupil, that had believed she had everything she would ever need. Meekly she continued, "Maybe there are some ponies who wouldn't find everything they could, or should, if they thought they had everything already...
"But I don't think it would be fair to push that angle harshly, though." She lifted her face back up, reasserting herself. "The negative social implications of rampant technology is certainly something to be aware of, but... well, there's been trouble with magic before, too. Accidents. Worse things, like dark sorcerers. The misuse or outright abuse of magic is a real problem that happens but we don't, and never would, let that stop us from from sharing the many wonderful things magic grants us. There's no reason I can see to deny high technology the same leeway, especially in a place where it's filling a similar role to magic."
James bowed in acceptance. Responsibility of the individual was what he believed, or at least what he had been taught in most areas where he might have been compelled to believe otherwise.
The eyes of the farm pony had drifted off from Twilight and James. It had crept up on her that, although she had intended to return to work sooner, she had let this tangent absorb her for too long. What's more, with the baler's issues finally being addressed, her anger had been waning. It was running the same course as her dying interest in the ongoing conversation, and she was already beginning to chide herself internally for her own perceived laziness.
In turning away from the others, she noticed that Gadget was no longer focusing on the baler. More innocently than suspiciously, Applejack remarked, "I don't see you doing anything there."
"Oh! It looks pretty good," Gadget replied. She had finished her inspection awhile back but had forgotten to give a report, instead being caught in the current of the dialogue. She raced to catch up on her duty, whipping through her words, "A lot better than I expected anyway... guess I was a little too rough at first in judging your treatment of it. You certainly haven't been caring for it like you should but clearly when you actually use it you haven't been pushing it any harder than is proper."
A little surprised, Applejack graciously accepted her words before asking, "So, it's all good now?"
"Just a little test...," mumbled Gadget. The others stood clear as she disabled the safety and steadily gripped the starter cord. She throttled the machine up in one snappy motion. The greasy engine sputtered to life with several loud, sporadic kicks. But after the coughs and gags it settled into rhythm and she listened to it churn away for a few moments before shutting it off. "Should be good for a long while, yeah," she declared.
Applejack uneasily stroked the back of her own neck, struggling to bring forward what she wanted to say to the repairpony. "Listen, sugar cube," she began, "it's been a downright rough day... and I reckon I owe you an apology for my unmannerly behavin' earlier. I wasn't being nothing but honest, but I did say some things stronger than I needed to. So... sorry for being a little ornery before." She looked over the baler one more time, her eyes casting just a tiny bit of blame onto it. "Sometimes these metal monsters get a mite frustrating to work with."
Sympathetic, Gadget replied, "Yeah, yeah I understand. Hey, thanks for the apology. And, for what it's worth..." She turned away partially, trying to mask her embarrassment. "I'm sorry too. For being short with you earlier."
"I still have a lot I have to get done today; make up for lost time and all," Applejack said. Then, quite gently, she asked, "Do you mind, I mean, if it ain't too much trouble, finishing up here anything what needs finishing, giving it another once-over maybe?" Hesitantly she followed up, "And... another day, if you're not too busy, maybe you could come on back and just... go over everything again, in more detail? Make sure I get it down right?"
"Sure. Get in touch later, we'll figure something out," Gadget duly promised.
"Ah, great! Thanks aplenty!" the farm pony smiled with relief.
Equally assuaged, Gadget let out a chipper sigh as she looked at the baler again, determining what more she could do. Her concentration broke suddenly and she nearly shouted, "Oh! Twilight, James! Hey, I've got to finish up here, but then I'll get back to my shop. I'll catch up with you later, with a replacement aligner ready." Her words were laced with the same heavy promise that she had planted in her vow to Applejack.
James returned a wave and a plain, "Thank you," before he pushed off the barn wall, sensing the end.
"Looking forward to it," answered Twilight. The unicorn turned and addressed her other pony friend, "Well, Applejack, I think James and I should be going, then. Unless you'd like any help?" She peeked back at James to search for any sign of objection but he had already escaped into thought and was indifferent.
"Nah, mighty neighborly to offer since it's gonna be a scramble to catch up, but Big Mac and I can manage just fine," Applejack declined. "You go on. It's been swell as ever, Twilight!" Already she seemed to be preparing herself to get back into the swing of things, but she gave a wave to them before her duties completely overtook her. "Thanks for coming 'round! You too, Beanstalk! See y'all another time!"
The others returned the farewell before departing. They walked down the road away from the farm and left the busy ponies to their due tasks, all the workings of the farm now in order, like a machine humming away in serenity.