//------------------------------// // 07 - A Science Fair For Grown-Ups is Proposed // Story: Contraptionology! // by Skywriter //------------------------------// * * * Contraptionology! by Jeffrey C. Wells www.scrivnarium.net (with gratitude to the pre-reading powers of Akela Stronghoof and S.R. Foxley) * * * Part Seven: A Science Fair for Grown-Ups is Proposed "Fillies and gentlecolts," began the Professor, "it is now time to begin a new dance, and this time, I will be your caller." "Wheee!" exclaimed Pinkie, leaping about a yard in the air. "A new dance! What's it called? The Hoof-Sock Hop? The Fillydelphia Slide? Oo oo, can you show everypony those Lipizzaner moves that you taught me that one time back in college?" "Nothing so mundane, liebchen," said the Professor. "Please to be patient, though. All will be revealed in time. The first step is this: I require all the bearers of the Elements of Harmony to stand before the stage, please." The six of us did so, Twilight and me exchanging scowly glares all the while. I made a point of kicking a little hay in her face as we walked. The Professor looked down on all of us from the stage once we got there. Pinkie was bouncing, Flutters was huddled, but the rest of us stood stock still, staring up at him, waiting for our next command, because the Professor was smart, and good, and worth listening to. "Fillies of Harmony," announced the Professor, staring down at us, his gray eyes burning. "Too long have you toiled in inner discord and dissonance! You have saved Equestria many times over with the six great Harmonic virtues, each one of you embodying a single quality, but consider this…" The iron-colored pony leaned down over us. "How well do your corresponding virtues relate to your special talents?" "He talked to me about this a minute ago," I whispered to Dash. "It's a real kick in the head." "Indeed," said the Professor, doing a hoof flip in my direction. "Fräulein Applejack has already enjoyed the benefit of my words. But the rest of you, please consider: would it not be wonderful for each of you if you could feel like one thing… rather than two? How good it would feel, and how beneficent for the world, if your Element and your Cutie Mark could work together, instead of independently? If there really were a link between apples and Honesty, for instance?" He fixed his glare on Fluttershy, then. "Or a link between butterflies and Kindness?" "Um," said Fluttershy. "I'm sure it would be nice, yes. Please stop looking at me like that." Rainbow blinked a couple times and shook her head like she was trying to clear it. Then she jumped into the air, hovering in front of the raised stage. "Excuse me?" she said, glaring at Danger. "What exactly is that supposed to mean? My Cutie Mark matches my Element just fine!" The Professor scoffed. "Please," he said. "Your Cutie Mark is a lightning-shaped rainbow. Such a thing does not even naturally exist! Have you seen one? Even in the experimental labs of Cloudsdale?" "Well… no!" she said. "But my talent isn't making rainbow lightning, it's speed!" "Yes," said Stranger Danger. "And I will show you a way to be even faster and better than you now are. Are you interested, Rainbow Dash?" "Really?" said Dash, blinking again. "Undoubtedly," replied Danger. "All right!" said Dash, doing a loop-de-loop. "Sign me up for that!" "I will indeed sign all of you up!" said the Professor, his voice booming. "You will be subjects in a grand harmonic experiment of mine in linking talent to power using the exciting new scientific discipline of contraptionology! You may protest that you don't know anything about science—" "I don't know anything about science," said Fluttershy, hiding behind her hair. "Since, um, you gave me permission to say that, that is." "This is true, I did," the Professor acknowledged. "I would respectfully disagree with you, however. I believe that all ponies know the fundamentals of science. They just need to reach down deep inside themselves and let that brilliant light shine forth. You six will help me forward the twin causes of science and progress, advance our understanding of contraptionology, and create a brighter future for all Equestria!" He tossed a coin to Derpy, and she made some thunder and lightning and such. "Thank you, funny-eyed pony," said the Professor. "In addition, you will each receive fifty bits from my pony subjects fund, so there's that, too." "Can't hardly argue with that," I said. "Then it is set!" the Professor cried. "Rarity the unicorn, step forward." She did so. "You," the Professor said, "perhaps the most creative of your circle of friends. You will build me a machine that links diamonds to Generosity, in a causative fashion." "I… think I see a way," said Rarity, her eyes swimmy. "Hoo hoo hoo! Yes! Idea!" "Excellent," said the Professor. "My dear student Pinkie Pie, you will come up with a way to link balloons and Laughter." "Done," said Pinkie, cheerfully. "Yeah!" shouted Rainbow Dash. "And I'll build a machine that links speed and lightning to Awesomeness!" "Um," said Fluttershy. "Um. Rainbow, um. That's, um." "What?" said Dash, rounding on Flutters. "Um, I'm pretty sure that's not your Element," she whispered, staring at the floor. Dash frowned. "Of course it is! Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Honesty, Magic, Awesomeness. That's six, right? Which one am I forgetting?" "Nothing," said Fluttershy. "I'm sure you're right." "Here, darling, have some punch," said Rarity, lifting a glass in front of Fluttershy with her freaky blue magic stuff. "It'll make you feel better. It did me." "Okay," said, Fluttershy, staring all forlorn into the little cup. She took a teeny sip, and all of a sudden her eyes went funny. "Eek!" she said. "Fluttershy, dear?" said Rarity, tilting her head. "Whatever is the matter?" "Get it out of my head!" warbled Fluttershy. "Get-it-out-get-it-out-get-it—" There was a noise that sounded kind of like the word "sproingk". "S… so… so many wonders…" said Fluttershy, her now-shining eyes fixed on a point about six hundred yards beyond the barn wall. "Fluttershy, you know what you must do, of course," said Danger, cutting in all smooth. "You must build me something that links butterflies to Kindness." "Yes," said Flutters. "I must." "Applejack, you already have your assignment. And finally, Twilight Sparkle. Prize student of the Sun Princess herself, one of the finest scientific minds in the entire kingdom. I have been... very much looking forward to this." "My mind's looking forward to this!" said Twilight, practically giggling, and it made me want to buck her in the flank. "And that means I'm looking forward to it, too! Quick, tell me what you want me to do!" "Twilight Sparkle, in recognition of your superior intellect, I have a particularly interesting harmonic challenge for you. You will link stars to both Friendship and Magic. Can you do that, flaemmchen?" "Yes I can, Professor!" "Now wait just one apple-bucking minute," I said. "What's with giving her the special challenges?" "I think I'll need a special challenge!" said Twilight. "Otherwise, this contest will be over before it starts! Just like when you dissolve thiotimoline in water!" "Besides," said the Professor, crisply. "Friendship is equivalent to magic. It is the same challenge. Just dressed up a bit." "Spike," said Twilight, actually drooling a little at the corners of her mouth. "I'll need every ounce of gallium-contained alloy we have. No, wait. More than we have. I'll need every ounce of gallium-contained alloy in Canterlot! Go, minion! Take the night train to Canterlot and fetch me what I require!" "Yes, Master!" said Spike, lurching toward the door of the barn. "I go! I go!" "Hey, why does Twilight get a minion?" protested Dash. "I want a minion!" Scootaloo zipped up to the stage and stood beside Dash. "Me!" "Thanks, kid," said Dash, "but I'm trying to link lightning and Awesomeness, not baking soda and fail." At her neck, the Loyalty amulet shook a little. Scoot's face dropped, followed by her whole head. Apple Bloom pushed in through the crowd to the clear space in front of the stage. "Hey!" she squeaked, charging up to Dash. "That was really mean!" "She's right, Dashie," said Pinkie, frowning deep. "That really was a mean thing to say. What's gotten into you?" She looked over at the rest of us, then; Twilight and me were still scowling at each other, Rarity was kneeling in the dirt of the barn floor, scratching patterns into the dusty old boards with one hoof, and Fluttershy was staring at the wall and sometimes bumping into it with her face. "What's gotten into all of you?" "Patience, my dear pupil," said the Professor. "Your friends are merely excited about their first exposure to real science. Everything is fine." Pinkie narrowed her eyes at him. "You promise?" "Pinkamena, I promise you this." "Pinkie Promise?" "Yes," said Stranger Danger. "Cross my heart, and so forth." "Okay," said Pinkie, uneasily, glancing back at us all one more time. Stranger Danger turned back to the microphone. "The rest of you!" he thundered. "All you citizens of Ponyville! Unlike these six fillies, you have no special powers of Harmony, but do not let that dissuade you! You, too, can participate in this grand Science Fair for Grown-Ups I am now proposing! Starting tomorrow, you will all construct a project, using science, on the topic of your choice. One midnight hence, you will bring all your inventions to my camp at the lemon grove up on the Ridge, where the Mayor and I will be waiting! Is that not right, Frau Mayor?" "Well!" said Mayor Scroll, standing over by the wall, a punch cup curled in one forehoof. "I certainly approve of these large civic celebrations, yes! But does that mean that I can't build a project myself?" "If you are to help me judge, then naturally your project will be exempt from contest consideration. But do not let that dissuade you from constructing one regardless!" "Yes!" cried the Mayor. "Oh, things are going to be so ever-so-efficient from now on! Thank you, Stranger Danger!" "You are welcome, schöne Frau." Mayor Scroll blushed. "Rascal. Speaking the language of love to me like that." "Guttural Hoofingtonian," said Professor Danger. "An elegant language for an elegant lady." There was a crash of thunder. Stranger Danger shot a glare over at Derpy, who was smiling happily and bouncing up and down on her thundercloud. "No!" snapped the Professor. "Thunder and lightning is not for amorous exchanges! Sinister revelations and exultations of science only!" "Sorry," said Derpy, stopping. "Is all right," said the Professor, rubbing at his poll. "Please just wait for me to throw money." Meanwhile, murmurs were spreading all through the crowd of party guests, kind of like the wildfires we all had been fighting just last night, though all that seemed years past us now. Scientific theories were beginning to fly, tiny little squabbles began breaking out on the finer points of some postulate or another, and slowly, the atmosphere in the barn began coming to a slow boil. From out of this all stepped Don Jalapeño, the tiny Pepper patriarch, knees quivering but full upright with rage. "Professor Danger," wheezed the Don. "We Peppers respectfully decline to join in this foolishness. This seems like an idea borne of the hot fires of liquor, not reason, and we will have nothing to do with it." "Of course," said the Professor, shrugging. "It is not mandatory. In fact, it will be good to have some non-participants. What is an experiment without a control group, after all?" "An observational study!" said Pinkie. "Very good, Pinkamena," said the Professor. He smiled, easy-like, showing teeth, at Don Jalapeño. "Please, feel free to retreat to your little enclave," he said. "I shall not stop you." The Don locked eyes with Professor Danger for a moment. Then, he called over his shoulder to his family. "Peppers!" he said. "¡Vámonos! This party is over." The Peppers commenced a-filing out of the barn, with much suspicious glancing. As Bell passed, on his way to following his kin, he grabbed my leg with a hoof. "Applejack," he hissed. "Forget this contest. Come with us. Please." "What?" I sputtered. "And let that little city filly win this here science fair on a forfeiture? You don't understand what's at stake here, Bell. This ain't just me and Sparkle there. I'm a-fightin' for the soul of Ponyville. The real Ponyville. Like it was before she showed up. In fact…" I narrowed my eyes. "This is her and you putting your heads together to hock me, ain't it. She put you up to this. Trying to distract me." "No, Applejack. This is madness. You should be able to see that this is madness. There is something desperately wrong here." "All's I see is somepony trying to hold me back from my delicious science," I said. I motioned toward the door with my muzzle. "Anyway, you better hustle. Your family's waiting for you." Bell clenched his jaw, like he was about to say more, but then turned away. "Very well. Farewell to you, Applejack." "Yeah, don't let the barn door hit you," I grumbled. As the Peppers shuffled out, the Professor stepped back to the microphone. "Okay then!" he said. "You all have your ideas started, yes?" There was a general mutter of agreement. "Excellent!" said the Professor. "Oh, this is going to be such fun. Now there is one thing more, and it is critically important. You all are going to have a very busy day tomorrow. So you will all leave now, go to sleep, and dream sweet dreams of science. Your day of work begins tomorrow at dawn." "C'mon," said Berry Punch, shoving her little sister Piña toward the door. "Let's go, kid." "But Berry!" said Piña, staring at her. "You never leave a party this early!" "You heard the professor!" snarled Berry. "Your big sister's got big plans for tomorrow, involving booze." She struck a head-high pose. "Antimatter booze." "Yes, Sweetie Belle," Rarity chimed in. "Let's say our goodbyes and get you home. Something very important is happening." "What?" asked Sweetie Belle. "What's happening?" "Something wonderful," replied Rarity, all sing-song. "You'll see." Twilight grinned a horse-apple eating grin at me as all the little ponies began leaving the party, leaving behind half a party's worth of uneaten food. "You all set for tomorrow, cowpony? I hope your invention can cut the mustard." "Oh, it'll cut the mustard, all right," I said. "It'll cut it, cut it again, dice it into tiny chunks and then jump up and down all over it 'til there ain't nothing left but mustard-flavored mud. In fact, I got me such a load of confidence about my invention, I'm even gonna hobble myself for this little hoedown." "How?" "I," I said, "am gonna deliver you breakfast tomorrow." I raised my head and looked over at my four actual friends, too. "To all y'all's," I said. "Breakfast and lunch, in fact. Granny'll bake it and I'll take it." Okay with you, Granny?" "Wha?" said Granny, from across the barn, looking up from a glass of punch. "Granny says 'yes'," I said. "And even after that, I'll still have time to compromise the fundamental laws of matter and tan your prissy purple unicorn hide, science-style." "Looking forward to it," said Twilight, turning and heading for the door. "Tomorrow, then." "Hey, guys!" said Pinkie, her voice bright but suddenly a-quaver. "Hey! What are you all doing! There's plenty of cake and stuff left!" "Sorry, Pinks," said Dash, going airborne. "You heard the Professor. I need a good night's sleep if I'm gonna win that science fair. And I am gonna win it, because you girls won't believe what I've got cooking up." "Oh, really, Rainbow?" said Rarity. "What?" "Check this out," said Rainbow. "Two words: Super Mega-Awesome Electric Lightning Augmentation Exo-Armor complete with Jet Pack. It's going to be ninety-eight kinds of radical, and as you know, only ninety-six kinds have yet been discovered. And if I'm gonna be discovering two heretofore-unknown types of radicalness tomorrow, I need to engage in some extreme napping tonight. Seeya!" In a rainbow streak, Dash zipped out one of the upper barn windows and was gone. "Rarity?" said Pinkie. "The creative urge calls, dearie," said Rarity, shoving a reluctant Sweetie Belle in front of her. "Cheers, though!" "Fluttershy?" said Pinkie, sounding more and more desperate. "We were going to do a party for Iggy, remember? Iggy didn't get his party!" "I'm sorry, Pinkie," sighed Fluttershy, "but I really have to go plan some abominations of nature. I hope you understand." "Of… course?" said Pinkie. The pink party pony turned back to me, her eyes pleading. "Applejack, please, can we run over to Twilight's just real quick and celebrate with Iggy? Please?" "That library is enemy territory, Pinkie," I said, shaking my head. "I ain't setting hoof in there, 'cept to deliver the food, like I promised." "But… Twilight's your friend! We're all friends with Twilight!" "We're rivals now," I said. "We've always been rivals. You just maybe haven't seen it. But that's you." I turned away from her, back toward the stairs leading to the family's living quarters. "Ain't your fault you're shortsighted." Apple Bloom looked over at me. Then she marched over to Scootaloo, who was still standing right in the exact same spot she was in when R.D. told her off. "Come on, Scootaloo," said my little sis. "Let's get out of here." "I thought getting possessed by a demonic manifestation would be the worst thing that happened to me today," said Scoots. "Shows how wrong that was." "Let's cheer you up a little. I've got some fizzy suckers I been saving for just this kind of emergency." "Yeah, okay," said Scoots, following my sister upstairs ahead of me. "Everypony, wait!" yelled Pinkie, to hundreds of deaf ears. "Wait! The party was just getting started!" She sagged, then. "What happened to my party?" she said. "My dear Pinkamena," said the Professor, leaping off the stage, his coat billowing out behind him and all trace of his gimpy leg gone. "The party… is just beginning." He tossed a coin in the air; Thunder and lightning. "Very nice," he said, crossing to the open door and the bleak black night outside. "Thanks!" said Derpy, cloudscooting after him, stowing the bit piece. "I really try!" And then they were gone, too. I climbed upstairs and left Pinkie behind me, alone, standing hangdog in the middle of the empty barn, surrounded by the wreckage of an unfinished party. It was almost enough to break a pony's heart, but I didn't have time to raise the emotion. I had brain-work to do. * * * The buzz was intolerable. Sleep was impossible. I tossed and turned under my little red blanket, folding and unfolding my apple-print pillows under my head. I was thinking of yeast. Okay, so the reasoning goes, yeast breaks down the sugar in apple juice, and somehow that makes it spit out alcohol. All well and good. But… but what if you could break sugar down on a more fundamental level? Sugar ain't the smallest kind of particle there is, even though those little grains are pretty tiny. Twilight, curse that demon pony's name, but Twilight had once told me that everything in the whole entire world, from ponies to prunes, is made up of little bits of crud called "atoms". And them things is made up of little bits of crud called "hadrons". And them things is made up of little bits of crud called "quarks". So if a pony can make normal alcohol by breaking down sugar molecules, what kind of alcohol could she make if she broke sugar atoms down into sugar hadrons? Or even sugar quarks? I didn't know, but I bet it'd have a strange flavor. So how would a soul do that? I thought, turning my little pony body over and over under the sheets even as I turned the idea over and over in my skull. Totally elementary, I eventually decided. You just needed to break the yeast down equally small. Once you got some yeast quarks in there, I bet they'd strap the ever-loving tar out of them sugar quarks. Then you'd get some regular hard quarkic cider action going on. And if normal alcohol reduces your inhibitions enough that you start saying what's really on your mind, which is to say, causing you to be Honest, how much more Honest would you get if you drank superpowerful subatomic quark cider? Honest enough to leave that Twilight Sparkle in the dust, I thought, grinning with a hair of self-satisfaction. Problem was, how to get yeast quarks in the first place? How does a body break something up that small? Ain't no chisel made what can split something on a subatomic level. The only thing small enough to break a yeast hadron in two would be… …another yeast hadron! And then, bam, I had it. What if I took some of that copper condenser tube from the still, but instead of running cold through it, I ran yeast through it and shook it around real hard? Them particles would start smashing into other particles and breaking them in two, over and over and over again, 'til all that I'd have left, eventually, was yeast hadrons. I mean, I bet they'd be pretty big chunky yeast hadrons, not real fine-grained, but they'd be hadrons nonetheless. And when those hadrons bashed together one last time, kapow! Yeast quarks! And the vision bubbled into my brain. Modifications I could make to the yeast vat on my old pot still. Things I could graft onto it. Probably I would need electricity; no problem, I could run a line to the power plant at the dam. It was all so simple! I reached over to my nightstand, grabbed a pencil in my mouth, and held it over my little bedside notebook, the one I use to write down all my apple-related dreams. I scribbled upon a fresh blank page the following words: LARGE HADRON CIDER I dropped the pencil, and it clattered to the floor. "Large hadron cider," I said, quietly. "Knock me down and steal my teeth, that's it. I got it. I found the link." Then I giggled like a school filly, got up from my bed like a shot, and charged down to the kitchen, taking the steps about four at a time. I wasn't the first one in my family to have the restless mind. By the time I flew around the last turn of the stairs leading to the kitchen, I could see the lamps on down there, and when I hit ground, there was my big brother Macintosh, noshing on a hunk of cold apple cobbler and staring at a roll of parchment with a worried look on his face. "Hey, Big Macintosh," I said, grabbing a serving spoon from the drawer and scooping myself up a hunk of the cobbler too. "You can't sleep either, huh?" "Nope," he said, frowning at his parchment. I moseyed on over. "Whatcha got there, Mac?" I said, peering over his shoulder. "Looks like a picture of them dang-fool worthless hail cannons that that we got suckered into buying, time was. Fat lot of good them things did last summer, huh? Imagine, us believing you could break up hail as it was falling using big loud booms." "Ayup," Mac said. I cocked my head. "Except… looks like you got 'em upside down," I said. "And what's that label down there?" I squinted. "'Sonic Plowshare'?" "Ayup." "'Related ideas,'" I continued reading. "'Other sonic tools, such as, sonic hammer, sonic screwdriver, sonic crescent wrench, etc.' What's 'ettic' mean?" "I think it means 'And Such,'" he said, scratching at his head. "Why don'tcha just say 'And Such'?" "Can't figure that out," said Mac. I pulled the plans over to me. "And how's this thing supposed to work anyway? You gonna be digging furrows in the earth using sound, now?" "Ayup." "How?" "Well, A.J." said Mac, ponderously, "I wonder iff'n you understand what sound even is." "Tell me," I asked suspiciously. Mac took a deep breath. "All right then," he said, the words coming like grapeshot. "First thing you need to understand is that sound, as a physical phenomenon, independent of the sensory interpretation of same, is best described as the propagation of energy waves via a fluid molecular medium, a phenomenon which is instigated by the kinetic energy of a vibrating source creating areas of relative condensation alternating with areas of relative rarefaction in that medium. Sound as we know it is typically thought of as being propagated through air, or even liquid, but in truth, the fluidity of matter is on a continuum, and while it may well require more energy to instigate waves in a solid substance, those waves will propagate correspondingly f—" Mac clamped one unshorn hoof over his mouth, staring at me wide-eyed. I stared right back. "Big Mac," I said, quietly, "what's happening to us?" "I don't rightly know, A.J.," he said. He stared down at his cobbler, looking suddenly unappetized by it. I kinda felt the same way. "I got to build me an atomic cider still," I said. "The idea's riding me now, and it just won't let me alone. But once that's done, and I show up Twilight at that science fair tomorrow night, I think I'm gonna put my notes in a drawer and not take them out again." "Ayup," agreed Macintosh. "We could put them away now, a' course." I stared at him for a moment. "No," I said. "No, we can't." "Nope," he agreed, sadly, staring at his own papers. "Well. Good luck tomorrow, A.J." "Rrr," I said. "That's just it. I ain't comfortable waiting until tomorrow! I know the Professor told us to sleep, and I trust him implicitly for absolutely no reason whatsoever, but…" I sighed. "It ain't the Apple Family way to wait until daybreak when there's work needs doing." "Ayup," agreed Big MacIntosh. "Well, that decides it," I said, pulling away from the table, my cobbler untouched. "I gotta get started. Grower help us all." "Ayup." I left my big brother behind me as I climbed back up the stairs to my room. Then I crossed over to my wardrobe, plucked a suit of clothes out with my teeth, and hung it on my dressing stand. It was my suit of baker's whites, all starched and fancy and shining cool blue in the moonlight that leaked in through my little window. This here uniform was a gift from the Princess herself, a souvenir from that time when Pinkie Pie and me got invited up to Canterlot to do that celebrity chef competition thing, a story too long to regale y'all with here. Needless to say, I don't do a lot of baking in my dress-up chef's uniform; it's too tight, and buttony, and in fact I had hardly even touched it since it had gotten laundered clean of the mess from that fateful day of the bake-off. Most days, I think I look kind of ridiculous with it on. But tonight, it just looked right. Except the hat. Huge poofy white thing, looked like a big old cream puff, which is to say, like Rarity. I picked it up in my teeth and tossed it back into the wardrobe. That ain't no proper hat. I'll take Old Reliable over a froo-froo thing like that any day. Still wasn't done, though. I thought it over for a while, then rummaged around in the little toolbox under my bed and came up with my cider-pressing goggles. With a quick toss of my head, I flung them around the neck of the dressing stand. There, I thought to myself, taking the outfit in. Perfect. Button the front up enough, you won't even be able to see this ugly old necklace. My hoof strayed to the little Elemental amulet, its jewel now glowing a deep cranberry red. Red, I thought. That's good, too. Finally, a proper apple color out of this thing. Nodding satisfied to myself, I took the clothes off the stand, worked my way into my whites, squared the goggles over my eyes, tamped my trusty Stetson back down on my head, and sized myself up in my old mirror. Nelly, I thought, Ain't nopony gonna say I don't look the part tomorrow. Thus outfitted, I marched downstairs once more, on my way to the outbuilding that tonight housed both my old pot still and my destiny. I had me a date with some science.