//------------------------------// // (5) The Jack // Story: Eros Dreaming // by Capn_Chryssalid //------------------------------// - - - (5) - - - Apples. Apples everywhere! Applejack moved through the convention grounds, a mare on a mission. The All Equestria Apple Convention occupied the entirety of four spacious halls within the ship during the day. Of those, two had to be cleared out every night for conversion back into the ship's main ballroom and dining hall. Ponies from across the country had been gathered to present the latest in apple-related horticulture, postharvest methodology and physiology, and general arboriculture. There were panels of learned pony biologists and botanists giving lectures on everything from new disease-resistant parasprites to studies of invasive non-Equestrian species to panels on nutritional value of apples and discussions on using magic to improve soil conditions. Crop inspectors from Canterlot and pollination experts and wayward entomologists rubbed noses with plant breeders, ranchers and economists. It was, needless to say, the most apple-tastic four nights in the Equestrian year! Applejack had a spring in her step as she all but bounced, Pinkie-like, from one presentation hall to the next. For the first time in her life, she had been invited to give a lecture of her own on the second to last day of the convention. Her topic was none other than the rare Everfree Zap Apple, grown and cultivated exclusively by Sweet Apple Acres. In the meantime, her speech long since prepared and practiced, Applejack had enjoyed the full gamut of the convention, catching up with old friends and relatives she hadn't seen in years... or since the last con, anyway. Humming to herself, she passed through the Production, Industry and Economics section of the Convention. There were all manner of farm equipment on display here, much of it not limited to just apple farming and distribution. A new fangled disk harrow caught her eye for a moment, and she wondered how Big Mac would take to it if she bought one for the farm. There was a surface-hardened steel plow she fully intended to sign up for, having been mightily impressed by refinements in the design and material science - it was high past time to retire the old wood and iron plow, and though he wouldn't like it, there were better harnesses available too that wouldn't choke her poor brother by putting so much force on his throat. That wasn't why she was here, though. "...and so you see, my friends, what makes our system unique - I say what makes it one of a kind! Is the innovational use of low pressure steam, yes low pressure steam, normally vented as exhaust-" "Our patented magical recycler uses that low pressure steam in a process we call compounding - say it with me now, folks, compounding - increasing the efficiency of the press and reducing water consumption!" "All thanks to the one-of-a-kind clockwork artificery-" "Guaranteed for a lifetime of usery-" "Backed by an unbeatable warranty!" "And the incredible ingenuity!" "Of the Brothers Flim and... and - Flam. Flam! Your line, Flam!" It was a guilty pleasure to see first one, and then the other, brother stammer mid-routine at the sight of her. She hadn't even needed to do more than show up. A quick 'excuse us, folks' and Flim, the more talkative and outgoing of the tall unicorn stallion duo, resumed his discussion of mechanical features unique to their brand new "Cider Squeezy 7000." Apparently the 6000-model was already old hat thanks to a number of minor improvements. One problem remained for the brothers, which she had heard whispered on the apple branch. The problem being that the current Super Speedy Cider Squeezy model was just a to-scale prototype. Two pairs of green eyes darted back to her, just waiting for some sort of outburst or sales-ruining condemnation. Applejack just stood and listened to the brothers' pitch and presentation. The technical minutiae went over her head but she had enough of a ear for numbers to follow the discussion of throughput-output and cost versus production. The two tinkerers finished by giving out free samples of cider along with an demonstration of the workings of the machine through a see-through glass. It really was remarkable what these unicorns could do with their technology. Yes, they had some within a hair's breath of taking her family farm from her, but that was one matter and this was another. Cider season was going to come around next year, and the year after that, and every year until one day they really were in trouble with out of town cider imports. Cider sales were the backbone of the farm between autumn and spring. Applejack may have written the truth when she told Celestia that she hadn't learned anything about friendship that day, but she had learned a few things about business. Sweet Apple Acres wouldn't get in the same kind of trouble twice. Not on her watch. "Thanks for coming, folks!" Flim heartily shook hooves with a botanist from Scandineighvia. "Drop by anytime for another free sample of our I-can't-beleiveably de-licious cider!" Soon, she was the only one left. "Cider not to your liking, Miss?" Flam asked, his expression turning markedly less welcoming when everypony else had departed. "Brother!" Flim elbowed him as he at least tried to be amiable. "It's been a while, Miss...?" "Applejack," she reminded him. "Applejack," he said. "No hard feelings, right?" Taking a long draught from her cider stein, Applejack licked her lips. "Correct me if ah'm wrong, now, but with how sweet this batch is, I do believe ah taste... Gala and Honeycrisp plus a little 'a somethin else..." "Bramley," Flim said. "And cinnamon?" "Just a pinch." "Not bad." Applejack finished her stein and put the empty glass on the table next to a half dozen others. "The mix you made with our apples was better." The stallion had lost some of his discomfort talking about cider, but her comment quickly undid the ease he had accumulated. "Miss Applejack, about Sweet Apple Acres-" "Not Flim-Flam Fields?" "No." Flim sat down and idly scratched his cheek. "About that..." "It was actually sorta impressive how ya talked yer way into getting us ta give you apples to compete against us," Applejack interrupted, her compliment leaving Flim rather dumbstruck. "Ah-" "It was?" Flam asked when Flim stuttered. "You're not angry, then, Miss?" "Ah was pretty angry, yeah, you bet! Ah was darn proud'a when we drove you fellers outta down." Applejack noticed the brothers cringe a bit at the reminder of their hostile ejection from Ponyville. "But then, as Cider season drew to a close, ah started ta think more about what happened back then." She tipped back her hat, huffing in vexation. "Ah had to use a loophole ta compete with you two. Not only don't ah I like having ta be... well, it wasn't cheatin' but it was usin' the letter a' the rules against the spirit a' the rules. Luckily you two went along with it-" "Admittedly, we were also lucky you let us use the south field," Flim reminded her. "Point is, ah'm not the type ta ask mah friends ta pitch in fer free every year till ah'm Granny Smith's age," Applejack said, waving a hoof off to the side. "Ah've tasted the cider yer machine made. It was good, and not just because ya used our apples." "So you're here...?" Flam inquired, moustache twitching. "On business," Applejack replied. "Ah want one of yer machines. Heck, I wanted one of em back then, too. Thought we could rent it, even." "The problem, Miss Applejack, is that cider making is a niche market. My brother and I need capital with a big, fat, juicy 'C.'" Flim gestured back at the diagrams behind him. "That means makin' the most of the market while we can." The apple farmer shook her head sadly. "And how's that goin' fer ya'll?" Flim and Flam exchanged uncomfortable glances. "It's... going places," Flim offered. "Ahl-right, lemme spell things out fer ya." Applejack crossed her front legs, her tone all-business. "Sweet Apple Acres has never once, aside from the year you came by, produced enough cider for the town of Ponyville. Ah don't mind tellin' ya'll this, since ya know it already, and because no pony there will buy water from ya much less cider. But the honest and brutal truth is that we've never been able ta keep up with demand." "And yet you control the town's entire supply," Flam observed. "Must be nice, having that little monopoly." "We don't overcharge anypony," Applejack's reminder was punctuated by a critical glare that made the mustached unicron flinch. "That's just how our family does business: a fair price and no limit on what a pony can buy. Think of it as our business model. Ah ain't gonna change that, but ah'm sick and tired ah seein' my friends go thirsty!" "I seem to recall one pegasus who was most animated about her lack of cider," Flim remembered. "So?" "So, first, ah want ta fix the problem, which as ah see it, is in production and supply, not product or sales. Second, and this is important, ah need a cider and juice makin' machine that can do this new fangled pasturizin' thing." "Heat pasteurization?" Flam inquired, a hoof up to his chin. His handlebar moustache almost seemed to curl a little as he thought. "We already have an integrated optional bypass for that in the 7000 model. The 6000 had it, too, but it slows output by fifty percent." "Canterlot health regulations signed inta law this year require all new imports to the city to be pasteurized, includin' apple products and dairy, so there's that, too. Now," Applejack said with a deep breath bordering on a sigh. "We may've gotten off on the wrong hoof, but you two seemed like the unicorns to see for this stuff. Ah'm ah right or am ah wrong?" Flim and Flam quickly ducked into a huddle, the twins murmuring as they conferenced. "We can do it, no problem!" Flam declared. "But there's still the matter of bits," Flim insisted. "We have overhead!" "And lots of it, Flim!" "That's right, Flam!" "Maintenance and replacement parts!" "Water and fuel!" "Raw materials!" "And then there's-" "-personal expenses!" Flim and Flam had, by this point, just about begun one of their routines. They had their forelegs crossed and hats off and everything, but before they could break into song and dance, Flim's good mood deflated. The hat returned to his head, and he dropped to the floor. Flam followed a moment later. "There's also one other little problem," Flim said. "Oh yes, that problem, brother," Flam agreed, momentarily forlorn. "We may as well let her know, Flam." "I'm sure she suspects it anyway, Flim." "Our ingenuous machines-" "All the ones that rely on apples-" "From the Super Squeezy-" "To the Picky Picker-" "Need magic to work," Flim finished, pointing at his horn. "Our... magic... to be precise." "Any other unicorn can supply the power," Flam explained. "But the products are, well, sub-par." Rather than being upset, however, Applejack's grin broadened. Why, it was almost downright predatory. "Actually, ah gotta confess something, too, fellers," she walked up until she was between them, wrapping her forelegs around the shoulders of the two tall stallions. "Ya see, that little admission of yers? It was exactly what I was hopin' ta hear." - - "What do ya think, Flam?" "I - I'm honestly not sure what to think, Flim." "It's workin' ain't it?" Applejack stepped down from the treadmill, picking her hat off a rack on the end and flipping it nimbly over and onto her head. A quick pat and it was firmly back in place. It was after hours, the day after she had re-ran into the innovative pair of unicorns. Per her request, Flim and Flam had reattached the manual starter for their prototype. It had been their idea to rig that to a treadmill for a more extensive test. A single line of lights overhead provided illumination in the otherwise hanger-like expanse of darkness that was the great showroom. Eight steins of fresh, frothy cider waited for them at the drip-feed output valve of the Super Squeezy 7000. "Oh! Oh! I can't wait! I can't wait!" The fourth member of their little group was what Flam called a 'control.' Obviously, he didn't know Pinkie Pie that well, since that was among the last words most ponies would use to describe the Ponyville's premier party planner. She had bounced along on the treadmill just before Applejack did, filling four of the steins. "Stand back, Miss Pie, if you would!" Flam nodded to his brother. "Shall we, Flim?" "Let's do it, Flam!" The twins both faced their machine and concentrated, a bright green light shooting from their horns into the insulated stacks on the top of the cider making machine. It revved up without so much as a hiccup, a hoof-full of apples passing through the automated inspection window and into the processing center. Steam chugged and gears worked, grinding the apples into pulp and then straining them through a filter to remove seeds and stems. Flim and Flam could wring a lot of raw juice and pulp out of the mash, but their machine also expelled the remaining filtered matter post-processing. Applejack intended to change that, if things worked out here. It would easily be used for applesauce, a fact the duo had overlooked. A belt moved on slotted wheels, filling another four steins. "Can we drink it yet! Can we!" "Miss Pie, please." Flam wagged his moustache, still a little uncomfortable with the adjustments to his precious machine, and now hassled by a pink pony trying to wrestle him to the floor to get at the cider. "You don't really think this will work do, you, brother?" "I'm willing to consider it may, brother," Flim, more into the business and sales than the engineering, trotted over to the now twelve steins, divided into three sets. The apples had been the same, all from the batch the brothers had brought to the Convention to help showcase their invention. The only difference in production was the means: Pinkie Pie's hoofpower, Applejack's hoofpower, and the brother's magic. "Ah'right now, Pinkie, just hold yer... horses," she had to keep from snickering at that last part. What a strange saying. She bodily picked the pink pony up off of Flam and set her down like one would a potted plant. "We'll get to the cider in just ah second." "A second just passed!" Pinkie announced, lunging - "In twenty five seconds then!" Applejack amended, plopping her back in place. "Awww!" "We got equal amounts of cider in each glass, right?" she asked. Flim was already checking, eyeing each stein. "It looks like we do." "Well, let's have our taste test, then!" Applejack picked up two of the first batch of steins, one for herself and the other for her friend. Pinkie eagerly snatched it up, smacking her lips and staring, mesmerized, at the cider inside. "I - I just realized!" She punctuated her revelation with a dramatic and all-encompassing gasp. "This is the first, and potentially only, batch of cider ever made by me! If I had only known... if I only had some caramel and nutmeg and cinnamon and... ohhh!" "There, there, sugarcube," Applejack said, heartily slapping the party pony on the back. "Ya'll helped us last year, remember! That Apple Family cider we made had a pinch of Pinkie Pie in it, too!" Pinkie's bright blue eyes grew huge and sparkly. "Hey, yeah!" "Ladies?" Flim held out his stein. "Brother?" "That's right, brother. Ladies," Flam agreed, and the four toasted. "Down the hatch!" Applejack joined in. Pinkie Pie giggled, all smiles. "Cheers!" Without further ado, they downed the cider control group. It was sweet and thick and fresh - in fact, it was probably too sweet. Applejack could see Flim and Flam exchange confused looks at the resulting product but Applejack just grinned to herself. Naturally it would be too sweet. It really was Pinkie Pie brand cider. It was still relatively soft, though, and a bit too watery without enough of a frothy head. "Yummy!" said pink pony declared, finishing her stein. "It was... fair," Flim judged. "This is the same problem we always had with manual control of the Squeezy series," Flam explained, but still finished off his drink. "Inconsistent product output. It tastes like somepony put molasses in it." "You seem to be enjoying it, Flam." "Maybe a little," the moustached pony admitted with a cough. "But it'll never sell, Flim." "We'll try ours next," Flim decided. A green glow enveloped the four steins down at the end of the table, floating them over to his brother and the two mares. Four glasses meet in a quiet toast. "Kanpai!" Pinkie injected, quickly gulping down her cider. The other three ponies present spared her a curious look but followed her lead. As Applejack had expected, the Flim-Flam cider was quite drinkable. It had good consistency, a nice bite, and it was thick and flavorful. A little acidic, by her reckoning, but very uniform in density from the frosty head to the bottom of the stein. It was good cider. Applejack could admit that without shame: it was good. Heck and tarnation, she already knew it. She'd had quite a bit of it herself when the family inherited the barrels of good (and bad) cider the brothers had left behind in their hasty retreat from Ponyville. Granny Smith herself - the most discerning and demanding palette Applejack knew - had, in the private of the Apple family home, admitted the brothers could grind and press a good drink, even with their fancy machine. She had also quietly expressed some surprise that a pair of unicorns could make drinkable cider at all (the unspoken connotation being 'with their magic instead of good hard work'). Thanks to her friends, Twilight and Rarity, Applejack knew better. Unicorns worked hard, too, in their own ways. "Delicious!" Pinkie announced. "It is good," Applejack said, voicing her thoughts. "One last set, now." Flam frowned a bit as Flim floated out the final four cider steins. He was skeptical that there would be any difference between Pinkie's cider and her own. He had built the manual drive system, after all, not really expecting it would have to be used in anything but an emergency. Applejack already knew she was right, though. Flam would be tasting the proof soon enough. Flim, though, glanced down at the cider in his glass with ambivalence. "Miss Applejack-" he began to say, but then stopped himself. Holding up the stein, he toasted, "Bottoms up, everpony." The four steins clattered together. "Na zdrowie!" Pinkie cheered. "What... language was that...?" Flam gaped, staring at the pink mare. Pinkie was already drinking, though, so no answer was forthcoming. Down the hatch the cider went as the other three drank. Applejack tasted her success in that last batch of cider. It was the taste of Sweet Apple Acres: hearty and rich and thick, pulpy and fruity but not too sweet, with a little bite that stick to your cheeks. It had come out harder than the other two, even to an inexperienced taster. Addictively good, very quickly all four steins were bone dry. Flim was the first to speak. "Wow. Brother?" "Unexpectedly good, brother-o-mine," Flam admitted, wiping a bit of froth from his bright red moustache. "I just can't believe how... how much of a difference it made." "Ah thought as much," Applejack said, and all three ponies turned to wait for Pinkie's critique. To their surprise, Pinkie was silent, staring down at her empty stein. "Miss Pie?" Flam inquired, tilting his head. "Are you-" "MORE!" Pinkie roared, shaking Applejack by her shoulders. "I've had a taste, but I need more! Don't hold out on me, Applejack! Just - just one more! We can make it right now!" "Ahlright, ahlright, I promise," Applejack barely got the words out as her friend shook her whole body, hooves to hat. One hoof on said hat and another on Pinkie's head managed to calm the silly pony. "Just give us a couple minutes first." Pinkie responded with a trademark pout, but perhaps realizing the situation, she bounced back and instead busied herself by inspecting the clockwork contraption that was the Cider Squeezy. None of them had gotten much of an up close look at it before during the contest at the farm. Even after hearing about its innards and 'steam compression power' and pistons and whatever, it was a guilty pleasure to see it whirr and chug and do its thing. "Well, Flam?" Flim turned to his brother. "I do believe Miss Applejack here has us over the proverbial barrel." "Some sort of unique element to her natural magic, Flim!" Flam took a moment to watch Pinkie try and fiddle with a dial on the front of the machine. She wasn't doing any harm so far, but he kept an eye on her. "I'm not sure how she knew the results ahead of time, though." "Ain't no fancy experimentation to it," Applejack answered, walking up to Flim and pointing to his cutie mark: a slice of apple. "Just as simple as that..." And then she pointed to the trio of apples on her flank. "And this." "When I thought about it," she continued. "Ya could've built that machine ta do most anythin. Ya came lookin' fer apples, specifically ta make apple cider. It's all in the cutie marks, and yers aren't a gear or cog or star or anythin' I've seen on a unicorn pony before." Flim frowned and Flam turned away completely in favor of watching Pinkie Pie try and stick her head into the Cider Squeezy's feeding tube. That was probably safe. "You're right, Miss Applejack," Flim finally replied, though he didn't sound happy about the admission. "Flim," Flam snapped. "We don't..." "We do, Flam." Flim stopped his brother there. "We do. She may as well know, if we're going to work together." - - "Do you know what they call this apple, Miss Applejack?" Flim floated over a sliced half of the fruit in question. The skin was like red etched over orange. "Ah recognize it," Applejack took the snack in-hoof and bit off a good half of it with a crunch. "It's a Cameo Apple, right? Ah hybrid mix ah Red Delicious and Golden Delicious." "You do know your apples." "Ah'll take that as a compliment," Applejack finished the apple off with one more bite before flicking away the stem. It tumbled over the railing, over the edge of the ship, and into the inky blackness that was the drop below. They were overlooking the side of the Eros Dreaming, close to one of the massive twined cables that connected the body of the ship to the starboard flight envelope. The parallel lines of yellow and black clashed with the night sky above. "I noticed your little sister, the filly with the red hair, she didn't have her cutie mark when we visited your town." "-she still doesn't." "They say a cutie mark can be almost anything, but you must've noticed that some marks run in some families," Flim's voice had lost its usual energetic sales pitch. Two peach-yellow hooves hooked over the edge of the railing. "Engineering ran in our family. It was a respectable and proper profession for a unicorn, and we were proud of it. Everypony expected us to have a screw or a piston or a wrench for our cutie marks." He shook his head at what came next; even Applejack could guess where his story was leading. "One trip to an apple orchard, and..." Flim softly tapped a hoof against the railing. "You know what happened. After that, we built a picker, first, since we couldn't get the whole apple bucking thing down. I assume only earth ponies can manage it with any real proficiency. Nothing we did worked as well as our apple machines. We didn't own a farm, so we hit the road and built our first Cider Squeezy." He clearly thought about saying more, but held his tongue. There was no need for more. Only: "Your farm was the first to go as far as it did. Looking back, I don't think we'd even thought that far ahead." Applejack rested her own legs up on the railing next to him. "Ah had mah test. Ah can use yer Cider Squeezy and I'm willing ta pay ya royalties on the cider ah sell." "That older mare, ah..." he tried to remember the name. "Granny Smith." "Something tells me she won't much like you bringing home one of our machines." "We need a pasteurizer, and she knows I'm buyin' one," Applejack smirked, having already run the resulting argument over in her head. "Ah never said what ah wouldn't buy. Heck, Ah'm sure Granny probably won't like it at first, but she'll come around. Big Mac, too, once he runs the numbers. In the end, Ah'm the one who runs Sweet Apple Acres, so it's mah decision ta make." "Why can't you make enough cider for all of us?" she asked, the words verbatum from one of her friends, very nearly left out of the cider harvest year after year. "Ah'm not gonna hear those words ever again. They'll be enough cider for everpony this year. Enough to spare to even sell in Canterlot." Flim was watching her with a guarded but expectant expression. "And my brother and myself?" "We do need mechanics who understand apples... and a couple hired hooves." Canny green eyes fixed him in her stare. "Who knows what else ya'll might invent?" She held out her leg and spat into the frog or palm of her hoof. "Ya think we can work somethin' out, Flim?" He didn't hesitate to mimic the act and take her hoof. "I believe so, Miss Applejack." They shook, heartily, and resumed staring out over the railing. "We'll need a workshop." "Ya'll can refit one of our old barns, but of course it' won't be free." "And room and board? Is there even a place that will have us in your fair town?" "Ah can think of a place... long as ya don't mind hay and early mornin's." - - - NEXT: (6) The Pink - - -