As Trixie trotted into the orientation room, a spacious area with a sophisticated-looking screen in front, she noticed Blueblood, sitting boredly on the first row, head on his hooves.
She shot the snobby aristocrat a glare, but he didn’t notice, so with a sigh she settled down a few rows behind him just to the right.
The stallion, who Trixie belatedly realized still hadn’t identified himself, knocked on a metal door over to the left. It opened, and a rather plain mare stuck her head out. They conversed in low tones for a minute, and the door closed again.
Quickly, the door reopened, and the mare and a second stallion trotted out.
This second stallion was dressed rather strangely, with a pair of glasses, with inset magnifying glasses, perched on his nose, yellow rubber boots on his feet, and a white coat of a style Trixie had never seen. A second pair of glasses was tucked in a pocket, one lens red and the other blue.
The prince perked up at the strange stallion’s entrance, watching him attentively, recognition written plainly on his face.
The stallion shuffled his papers and removed his glasses, taking his time.
Trixie shifted in her seat. “What’s the deal?” she hissed over to Blueblood. “You know him.”
Blueblood started, just recognizing her presence, and belatedly returned her previous glare, with interest. “That’s Time Turner. He’s one of the 10 smartest ponies in all of Equestria, and was considered to lead the Equestrian Bureau of Research and Development. He’s singlehoofedly invented new industries and sciences. Five doctorates, only one of which is honorary—because he discovered the field of the honor. He’s well known in academic circles, though he’s largely stayed out of the news.”
Trixie blinked, impressed. “How did this company manage to hire such a prestigious pony?”
Blueblood shrugged. “I have my suspicions. We’ll know shortly.”
“What suspicions?”
But the duke ignored her, a purposeful snub that left her seething.
The mare stood off to one side and fiddled with some equipment, and with a whir, it started up. It was revealed to be a projector, one of the new pieces of technology the humans had brought to Equestria in recent months. It fizzled to life, showing a piece of machinery shaped like a jack, and a small graph.
The stallion cleared his throat, setting his papers down. “Hello, you two!” he waved cheerfully. “Nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Time Turner, the head of Research, Development, and Fabrication here at Harmonics Inc.” He indicated the mare who had started the projector. “This is Roseluck, my assistant, and also the head of Advertising and Design for the company.” He pointed to the other stallion. “Lastly, this is the head of Medical and Accounting, Split Stitch.” Stitch nodded curtly, not speaking.
Blueblood piped up, “Get on with it!”
Affronted, Turner harrumphed. “If you insist.” He drew out a small rod from within his coat, which flicked open into a telescopic pointer. He indicated the jack-shaped machine. “This, here, is a Mark-I Ascent nanobot, a microscopic robotic tool which can rearrange matter at an atomic level. Our company was granted a license to produce these for non-commercial use, and as such, you’ve each been injected with over a billion of these tiny machines, which offer some significant benefits.” Both orientee’s mouths fell open, and began to protest, but he bulled over the noise and simply raised his voice. “For example, your speed and strength will have increased by roughly 30%, due to increased muscle mass, with a reaction time increase of nearly 50% with neuron sheathing. The time for forming a scab over a wound has been cut in half, and healing times have tripled. In addition to the passive benefits these machines provide, they also allow for some unique surgical procedures.
“The rough details of the augmentations to Erin Olsen, AKA Sunflower, have been released to the public, minus specifications. However, this allowed us to build—yes, literally build—similar augmentations to each of you, if slightly inferior. The Mark-I’s can create structures within a body, and as such you’ve each been fitted with a full communications suite, visual and auditory enhancement, and a small reserve of painkillers and adrenalin for emergency dispensation.
“We’ve also added on top of the default features full sheathing of your bones in titanium—incidentally making them 62% stronger—ultraviolet and infrared vision settings, sonar features for both the vocal and auditory systems, and the kicker trio of ‘ments. But I’ll save those for later.”
Trixie had no words. The level of intrusion into her own body— previously her only inviolable possession, her only impenetrable fortress—was so great and thorough that she could not find a strong enough invective or retort to throw.
Blueblood was simply sputtering in rage, face redder than a cherry.
Stitch broke in, “Now, about the cost—each one of these nanobots is only 2-hundreths of a bit, but there’s a lot of them, and the only reason we could afford this at all was because of the recent business openings between Earth and Equestria.” Smugly, he confided, “Gold is rather more rare on Earth than Equestria, so the exchange rate between bits and dollars, the premium currency there and the one technology is based on, is very favorable at the moment. In fact, since each bit is an ounce and a half of gold, that would make one bit about 2,000 American dollars.” Trixie worked over a rough estimate in her head and immediately choked, eyes shrinking to nothing. He turned and motioned at the graph, smirking widely. “Which means each of you are worth half a billion American dollars of equipment right now—the most expensive personal equipment in all of history. And since the gold exchange rate is swiftly falling as the market equalizes, suffice it to say, the two of you equal the yearly budget of Manehattan City—as a whole, and will likely be worth more over time. Which is why the penalty fees are prohibitive. We won’t let you walk off with so much money in your veins.”
Blueblood had passed out, twitching, from shock, and Trixie’s face grew even bluer as she forgot how to breathe. Stitch sighed and walked over to Trixie, advising, “Breathe, remember to breathe. In, and out. In, and out.” Trixie took one gasping breath, and he smiled. “Good. Keep it up and might make it through the presentation.”
He moved over to Blueblood, shaking him awake. “Pull it together, Duke,” he admonished.
Doctor Turner clapped his hooves. “Well, that’s par for the course,” he chuckled, grinning. “I should have provided some refreshments so that I could’ve watched you spit them out!”