September 28, 2008
Ponyville
Sunday Afternoon
Two hours later, Quantum found herself rolling into a rural community she’d never visited before; traveling in the back of a wagon pulled by a large red draft pony. She’d tried to walk but was shouted down almost instantly by Applebloom – remembering Hal’s advice, Quantum didn’t argue the point. The wide-brimmed cowfilly hat made her mane itch and prompted her to constantly flick her ears, but so far, so good. The pale yellow filly was trotting along beside the cart. Quantum tried to start up a conversation.
“So, uhm, Apple—I mean…lil’ sis. I-if…n you-ye…er…ye’re here and that…that thar draft pony’s here, who be doin’ thearr harvest?”
Applebloom looked up. “Whut? Sis, you sound like a pirate.”
Quantum sighed inwardly. How do ponies communicate like this? She tried again, “Ah meeean….you an’ him,” she pointed at the red pony, who was cantering along without any indication that he was paying attention. Applebloom followed the gesture.
“Big McIntosh? What’sa matter with him?”
Whew, Quantum thought, free info. “Well, just…if’n yeee’re here an’ so is Big McIntosh…” she thought for a second, “…is…uh Granny Smith takin’ care of the harvest?”
Applebloom laughed openly. “Aw c’mon sis. Ye know gramma ain’t got the same giddy in her up no more. She makes the best dern fritters this side’a the family line, but she ain’t seriously bucked no apple trees for years. Not with her hip like that.”
Quantum listened to the rhythmic squeaking of the cart wheels. “Then who’s harvesting apples?”
Applebloom looked crestfallen. She bowed her head. “…nopony. I-it’s just the first day though, raight? We’ll…we’ll git caught up tomorrah.”
Quantum tried to smile the melancholy away, “What you’re saying is you need ‘mah hep’, raighty?”
The pale filly shook her head vigorously and wore a smile so fake, it didn’t take magic to see right through it. “No! We’re just fine! Ye’re sick, and seein’ that family is ok comes first. Big Mac can buck apples just fine. Ah can…umm…pull the cart. Yeah.”
Quantum fell silent, thinking of her mother. Family did indeed come first. If only this innocent little filly, who was actually a number of years older than Quantum and in no physical way up to the task of pulling a cartful of apples, knew just how poignant that sentiment was.
The dirt path widened, eventually opening into an unpaved street through the middle of a quaint, colorful town. Businesses and shops were in full swing. Ponies of all shapes and sizes were meandering about, and Quantum had to fake greetings to a number of ponies she couldn’t identify. The only quiet building was the library. Hewn from the trunk of a large tree, it cast a forlorn shadow, and was in need of a loving touch.
The examination was uneventful. Quantum turned her head and coughed when she was told to, failed miserably with eye charts (she hadn’t been able to figure out what happened to her glasses since she found herself in Applejack’s bed), and yelped in the face of a cold stethoscope, much to the chagrin of the doctor’s ears. She was nearly found out when she tried to levitate a syringe that the doctor left lying uncomfortably close to her pasterns. She ended up having to drop it and let it shatter, claiming she knocked it over by accident. By the end of the checkup, ‘Applejack’ was declared thoroughly and without a doubt sick out of her mind.
On the way back through town, Quantum sat quietly in the apple cart and considered her problem. Two and a half days left, and as far as she could tell, not a tree on the whole acreage had been tended to. Even for a laypony like her, it seemed a nigh impossible task, and these ponies thought they were going to pull it off without Applejack. She glanced down at Applebloom, who didn’t notice she was looking. The look on the filly’s face made Quantum feel like she was riding in a hearse carriage.
No, Quantum thought to herself, pulling it off isn’t what they’re thinking at all. They know they don’t have a chance.
The cart came to an abrupt and jarring halt. Quantum craned her neck to see what was going on, and her eye fell on a rather stylish looking white unicorn with an immaculately kept violet mane and long eyelashes. She was hitched up to a cart of her own, though hers was far too small even for a filly to ride in, and was adorned with dainty jewels that accessorized well with the three blue gems that made up her cutie mark. Applebloom trotted ahead and engaged the newcomer, who wasn’t having much luck talking to Big McIntosh. The red draft pony was apparently a stallion of few words.
“Hi Rarity,” Applebloom began, squinting, “Y’look as frazzled as mah granny’s mane after half a day of sleep. What’sa matter?”
Quantum’s eyes widened. Two fabled element keepers in as many days? Had it been thirty years in the future she would have been honored to meet Rarity. Now, she was just plain nervous. Rarity, somehow managing to look pale despite her coloring, spoke up.
“Applebloom, sweetheart, have you seen any of the craftsponies in the marketplace today? I can’t find a single one, and I swear I’m going to go grey if I don’t get my hooves on somepony who knows a bobbin winder from a thread guide!”
Applebloom shook her head, “Sorry Rarity, can’t help ye. Ain’t seen a one of ‘em today i’tall.”
Rarity threw up her hooves dramatically, “How can they all be missing!?”
Applebloom rubbed her chin in thought. “Wasn’t there s’posed to be a trades convention out of town this week? Ah don’t remember where, but apples to oranges you’d find ‘em there.”
“Eeeyup,” Big Mac added thoughtfully.
“A-all of them?” Rarity sputtered. She looked so despondent, Quantum thought the white fashionista’s expertly deployed mascara might start to run. “What am I supposed to do now?” She gestured to her cart with a wide wave of a foreleg, “I have half a dozen orders to fill today! I can’t do them all by hoof, and my sewing machine and I aren’t on speaking terms!”
Applebloom shrugged apologetically, “Gee, ah’m awful sorry to hear that, but well, we’re kinda in a hurry to git back to th’farm, so—”
“Applejack?”
Quantum blinked. The embodiment of the element of generosity was staring right at her. She couldn’t help but blush as Rarity trotted over.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Rarity asked, genuine concern in her voice. “Isn’t it crunch time at the farm this week? You look positively dreadful!”
Quantum rolled her eyes and avoided a ‘gee thanks’ response. “Iaahm fine,” she drew, “Ah meean, ah been worse, yee know? I-I mean,” she forced herself to cough, “guess mebbe ah ain’t so well as a wildcat on Sunday after all, huh?”
The minty mare wondered if there was somepony, somewhere on the street, that wasn’t giving her a strange look. She shrank, cursing herself inwardly. Rarity blinked.
“O-oookay, well…you poor thing. Get well soon, okay?”
“Don’t mind mah sister,” Applebloom replied. “She’s lost a’couple spokes on her wagon wheel, but th’doctor says she’ll get ‘em back again soon. She just needs some rest.” She leaned in close to Rarity, quieting to a whisper, “this mornin’ she thought her bedroom was Hell, and she kept insistin’ there was a pegasus in there with her.”
“R-right,” Rarity quipped. “Well, if the three of you don’t mind, I need to do something about this infernal machine. Normally I can handle repairs myself, but whatever’s wrong with it has defied me so far, and if I don’t find some help soon, it’s going to cost me repeat business. So adieu!”
The classy white mare made to set off at a gallop, but was jerked back so hard she nearly collapsed in the dust. When everypony looked back, they found Applejack, leaning out of her wagon with her hooves wrapped around Rarity’s tied-down sewing machine. Rarity unhitched herself and stepped over, putting on an expression meant for reasoning with naughty foals.
“Dear,” she began, “Would you…mind letting go, pretty please? I promise my sewing machine isn’t a pegasus or a demon. It won’t hurt you.”
Quantum ignored the request and went about mumbling to herself. “This is just...what? Pulleys, gears…maybe a drive belt or something? Can’t be all that much to it…” Unceremoniously she bopped the release switch, opened the machine up, and set to work poking around inside.
Rarity’s jaw nearly hit the dirt. Shuddering at the appalling scene, she reached out weakly and tried to get the country pony’s attention without upsetting her fragile state of mind.
“D-darling…Applejack,” she whimpered, “please, i-it’s fine! Thank you for offering to assist me…you’re so kind, but I’m sure I’ll find some help if I just keep looking!” When Applejack showed no signs of stopping or even paying attention, Rarity nearly swooned. “Y-you know what? It’s really not even a big deal at all! What’s a couple of hems and chain stiches among clients, right? Eh heh heh…oh! And you must be feeling so awful – far be it from me to keep you from going home and getting your rest…!” She threw a terrified glance at Applebloom and whispered, “She is feeling awful, isn’t she?”
Applebloom only shrugged, staring in disbelief. “This mornin’ she fergot who she was, ah think. Caught her pointin’ at a picture of herself in the hallway an’ talkin’ like a pirate.”
“A pirate!?” Rarity’s lip began to twitch in time with the pulsing of a less-than-stylish looking vein on her forehead. She snapped back around, intent now to do whatever was necessary to keep her poor sewing machine from collapsing into a pile of parts, even if it meant having to be rude. She barely got her mouth open before she was cut off.
“There!” Quantum announced cheerfully, slamming the little access door shut. “Should be good as new now.”
The fashion-conscious white pony gaped. Without a word, she retrieved a scrap of fabric from somewhere in the cart, folded it on itself, and ran it through the machine. Levitating it up to eye level with her horn, she turned it around, inspected it, and even tried to rip it apart. The strong, straight stitch held firm.
“A-astounding!” Rarity announced, relief spreading mercifully over her muzzle. “This is marvelous! Why, this machine hasn’t produced such a perfect stich in months – I was even thinking of throwing it away!” Casting the scrap cloth aside, she nearly leapt into the wagon to throw her forelegs around Applequantum. “Darling! You simply must tell me how you did it!”
Applebloom raised a brow in Big Mac’s direction and didn’t smile. “Th’ heck just happened? Does sis know how t’fix sumthin’ like that?”
Big McIntosh held up his hooves, “Eeeyup…er…eenope?”
Quantum chuckled smartly. “Oh, it’s not really all that hard. When you see something like this as just a collection of simple machines and then break it down, it’s easy to isolate the problem and make repairs. Besides, all you basically have here is perpetual motion via a mechanical response from a series of gears, right? Any point in the sequence could go wrong, but none of them should be too tough to fix if you know what you’re looking for.”
Rarity patted Quantum roughly on the withers, the explanation going into one ear and out the other. Eagerly she hitched herself back up to her cart and started off in the direction she came, calling, “Yes, yes, wonderful! That’s just wonderful, dear! Look me up if you ever need something mended and it’s on the house! You’ve no idea how much time you’ve saved me! Simply ravishing! Goodbye now!”
The pale filly approached the apple wagon, warily eyeing her older sister, who was sitting there in a pile of hay with a self-satisfied expression. “Whut was that?”
Quantum blinked her eyes open, “Huh? What was what?”
Applebloom pointed at Rarity’s retreating form. “That! Sis, yer worth a thousand bits a minute mendin’ a fence or raisin’ a shed, but where’d you learn t’do that? An’ don’t tell me ye don’t remember who ya are or whut ye just did, ‘cause I ain’t buyin’ it.”
Quantum’s smile evaporated, and she had to stifle the urge to bap herself in the forehead. “Oh, uh…well I—‘ah’ mean, it aayin’t real tough, yee know? Like…wranglin’ a griffon?”
“I ain’t never wrangled a griffon b’fore,” Applebloom stated, her stare narrowing. “Ah’m pretty sure most of ‘em would sue if ya tried to.”
“Uh…right,” Quantum replied uncertainly. The little filly’s withering stare was bringing about panic. Quantum was just about to give up and try to explain what was really going on, when a voice chimed in.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Both ponies turned to see a middle-aged, tired looking earth stallion with a receding maneline and a disheveled tie. Behind him was a little purple foal with a huge magenta bow in her mane that was twice the size of her entire body. She was wailing like a banshee, and drawing an embarrassing amount of attention. The stallion continued.
“Excuse me miss, I’m really sorry to bother you, but I noticed just now that you seem to have a knack for machines. Could I ask you for just a moment of your time?”
“Actually,” Applebloom began, worriedly looking at the position of the sun, “ah’m sorry mister, but—”
“What’s up?” Quantum cut in.
The stallion sighed with relief and turned around to his foal. “Sweetie, can I have Mister Blister for just a second, please? There’s a good, grown up filly.” The child never broke her screaming fit, and the stallion turned back quickly. In his teeth he held a small stuffed dragon with a wind-up key stuck in the side of it, which he promptly dropped in Quantum’s lap. “I’ve been trying to find a craftspony all day to help fix my daughter’s favorite toy, but there don’t seem to be any in town today,” he sighed with frustration, “…of all the days for this to happen. I’m really sorry, but do you think you could help? We’re kind of having a meltdown here if you know what I mean.” He sighed, indicating the screaming child and the reproachful glances from parents with quieter foals. “I’ll pay you whatever, just…can you at least look at it?”
Before Applebloom could say anything, Quantum had the toy under tight scrutiny. She blinked hard and shook her head a few times – being without her glasses was starting to give her a headache, but at this distance the little plush was at least as easy to see as the sewing machine had been. Tamping the toy down with her foreleg (unicorn magic, she knew, was a bad idea), she pulled its zipper down with her teeth and set about tinkering. A few minutes later she closed the dragon up, turned its key, and balanced it on a hoof, holding it out to the tiny foal.
“Here you go sweetie,” she cooed, “The operation was a complete success, and Mister Blister is feeling fine now.”
Sure enough, the dragon was moving its legs, opening its jaw, and making growling noises. Elated, the foal forgot the shyness of youth, leapt forward, and claimed the beloved toy, cradling it like a lost loved one. The stallion smiled down at his daughter, affection shining through his weary façade as the little one retreated to spin gleefully in the streets.
“Oh miss, thank you! You have no idea…I was ready to just take the thing and, w-well—” The stallion digressed, “Anyway, what do I owe you? I insist!”
Quantum had to politely refuse the offer of money several times before the stallion departed, again offering his gratitude. Applebloom smiled softly.
“Gee sis, that was raight nice, doin’ that,” just as quickly her smile faded and she looked worriedly between her older sister and the new position of the sun in the western sky. “But that still don’t explain what ye’re gettin’ at today, and yikes! We gotta git back to th’farm!” She trotted ahead, “C’mon now!”
Big McIntosh tried to move, but it was no use. Dozens of ponies were now swarming the cart, going on about the lack of repairs and beseeching Quantumjack for her services. The minty mare could hardly refuse without galloping away; an idea she decided was poorly contrived considering her bout with the ‘flu’.
The family wagon didn’t pass under the Sweet Apple Acres welcome sign until sunset.