//------------------------------//
// Data Collection 
// Story: Too Intelligent to be Loved 
// by Nikola of Tesla 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 2: Data Collection 


“Pure logic is the ruin of the spirit.”


“Both?” The lavender pony flushed red at that thought. Certainly it was possible... I mean, strictly speaking if one could love one…There was no reason… Soon she was as crimson as Big Mac. Only Spike’s polite cough from the doorway brought her back to reality. 

“There is somepony at the door.”



	


Just tell her how you feel. It is Twilight; she will understand. There was the library door. Ok, knock on the door. She answers. ‘Hello Twilight, can I talk to you about something?’ She responds yes. ‘Oh great, you see Twilight I…? What? I like you. No, I really like you. No, I love you. Definitely not. Cannot stop thinking about you…?’ This is going nowhere. A shiver. It's really cold out here.

Three loud knocks rang out, piercing the night’s calm. Their deep resonant sounds couldn't have been more frightening if they were the bellows of an enraged Ursa Major. 



	


Twilight opened the door to reveal an empty stoop. 

“Hello? Is there anypony there?” She stood there waiting, “Anypony?”

No answer came save for a gentle gust of November wind. 

With that distraction already forgotten, Twilight moved downstairs to her waiting lab. Princess Celestia’s letter lay floating in a puddle where the wind had deposited it. A single hoof print marred its surface. 



	


That was close. Another second and she would have had me cold. The relief was mixed with guilt and disappointment, followed swiftly by anger. That is the WHOLE point! She is supposed to see me. However this entire endeavor was SUPPOSED to be simple. She looks so sad standing there. I should just walk up and…? And what? It was daring, audacious, and risky. Just say, ‘Oh hi Twilight!’ That could work… It just might work. It could work. Just do it Every step forward was an enormous effort. All you need to do is say, ‘Pleasant evening, Twilight.’ Just say it. They are only three words. Three words - that is all you need say! Although that thought was repeated over and over, it provided little comfort. “This is it, just three words. Nothing had even been this hard. Ok. this time for real. 

The mental tirade was interrupted by the sight of a sheet of paper floating dejectedly in a puddle. 



	


The chill of the lab was lost on Twilight. She felt relaxed. This was her sanctuary; in this room any puzzle could be reasoned out, any problem could be dissected, any mystery could be brought into the light. Beakers stood in their neat rows, silent sentries waiting to be called. The gene-sequencer hummed quietly, its pleasant murmur promising to illuminate the darkest depths. A series of clicks came from the thaumaturgy meter, the high-strung magic watchdog. She patted it and was rewarded with another series of clicks. 

From the wall, Starswirl the Bearded gazed down on her, a knowing twinkle in his eye. Her costume hung next to his portrait. “Figures only Princess Luna would appreciate it.” The benighted sovereign watched her from her own portrait, a gentle smile gracing her muzzle. 

This was her favorite picture of Luna, showing nothing of Nightmare Moon, and only the alicorn she met on Nighmare night. Celestia’s portrait hung next to Luna’s, occupying the highest point in the room. Officially, both were Princesses and held their place on her wall for that reason. However, Princess Celestia would hang there because Twilight had boundless respect for her. She was her mentor, and Celestia’s opinion of her carried an impossible weight. Princess Luna was something else entirely. She was still royalty, but Twilight saw a lot of herself in the keeper of the night. One of her proudest moments was not vanquishing Nightmare Moon but releasing Luna.

She took her lab coat from the rack, feeling its reassuring weight drape around her. Celestia looked on approvingly.

The desk was the heart of the room, and its surface was a stark contrast to the scrupulous order Twilight normally imposed. Scrolls were piled high, quills scattered, ink pots perched precariously atop stacks of open books. This was her private vice, an island of chaos in a sea of order. A scroll slid neatly from under a picture of all her friends as a quill lightly dabbed up some ink. The desk was a familiar glove that she just put on. Both of them were ready.

Her tongue nestled in its familiar home in the top corner of her mouth and she began her work.

“Analysis of Mare Biological Attraction Symptoms with Emphasis on Gender Based Infatuation.”

That would do for a working title. Her mind turned now to how she would quantitatively analyze the symptoms of love. 

“Love is always described as leaving ponies short of breath. I best check for respiratory rate and O2 Sats. Blood pressure and eye dilation of course.” She cast her mind out, examining every rumor she had ever heard about what love felt like. “Blood distribution perhaps, I could examine that thermally. Ear twitches? Does love cause that? Best check for it anyway. Better look for tail twitches too.” 

Her eyes darted to the romance novels setting on their shelves. A while back she had read a few and found them to be generally boring. Nothing substantive. Ponies declared their unrequited love for each other and that was that. None of them cataloged the symptoms in an organized way or explained the mysterious mechanism behind love.  

“Love supposedly does something with the stomach doesn’t it? Hmm, nausea perhaps. Chemical balances in the blood. I should test hormones especially; they must play a large role in love. Spike always gets tongue-tied when he speaks to Rarity; maybe it causes some sort of facial paralysis.  That would also explain the stupid looks on some ponies’ faces when they are in love.”

Twilight was momentarily distracted by thoughts of Spike. “Surely he knows that even if she feels the same for him, the two of them are of different species. They cannot breed. Very strange, evolutionarily it would be disfavorable for members of different species to be attracted to each other.” Finally she ascribed it to Spike’s youth and resumed her list of symptoms.

“I cannot forget to check for dry mouth, long stares, and shifting from hoof to hoof. I can easily do that by looking for saliva production, retinal tracking, and weight distribution” All these and more were neatly listed in a column. The list of possible “symptoms” grew and grew until it contained everything from sweat production to mane growth. Twilight was determined to be, if nothing else, thorough. 

“Love does a lot in the brain. Sufferers say they cannot stop thinking about their object of affection. Hmmm. I could use some kind of brain scan, perhaps. Once I identify the signs of love, I can then scan a pony while she is thinking about her love to find out what it does to her brain. It must have some sort of pattern or imprint. From there I will know exactly where love is processed in the brain. Simple. But first I need to find the biological symptoms.” And with that, she dotted the last i and rolled the scroll up neatly, returning it to its place under the celluloid representation of her friends. 

“How can I investigate this? I cannot test myself yet because I know what I am looking for. It could influence my results. No, I need some other pony so as to avoid bias. But who? Ideally I need a large sample size. And I will need some sort of rig the pony could wear so I can record their reactions when exposed to various stimuli. I could attach all the sensors to it and observe from here. Now, where did I leave my interferometer?”  

Now the real work began.



	

Spike still heard the sounds of industry coming up from Twilight’s lab. Whatever project she was working on sure was consuming a lot of her time. For the past three days since that letter from Celestia, she had been working straight through, subsisting on dandelion sandwiches and coltsfoot tea. This was not all that unusual for her. Once she got an idea into her head, a herd of buffalo couldn’t pull her away from it. One time she spent a week testing if Red Pegasus really did give you wings, and then there was the infamous “Pinkie Sense” debacle. The cot was gone so presumably she was sleeping down there - always a sign she was up to something big. Time to take her the lunch sandwiches and check up on her.

“Twilight..?   

“Breakfast already? Wow, time sure does fly! I'm famished!” Her mane was surprisingly well–kept, but there was a distinct whiff of burning hair.

A sandwich lifted itself off the platter, rotated, and fell into the mug of tea. It sat for a second, swelling before zooming out, still dripping, and flying whole into Twilight’s awaiting mouth.

“Twilight… that is disgusting!” Spike proclaimed as Twilight’s cheeks bulged and a dribble of tea ran down her neck.

“Bruk ish fassih!” Twilight managed before with a massive effort she swallowed and repeated, “But it's faster! And I mean it all goes to the same place in the end! I'm just improving the efficiency.” 

Spike could only look on silently as one by one the remaining sandwiches met a similar fate. At least she is eating… An enormous burp brought Spike back to reality. He looked to Twilight who looked totally unabashed about her action. He raised an eyebrow.

“For your information eructation is a normal part of the gastrointestinal process. It is perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed about.” Her voice was haughty and dignified but he thought he detected the smallest hint of redness around her muzzle. “Only social pressure marks it as anything more than a biological reaction to air in the stomach. In some cultures, such as the griffons of Tiuti, it is considered as a compliment and an expression of appreciation.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Um… you’re welcome, it was nothing?” 

“And besides you do it every time the Princess sends us a letter.”

Spike quickly changed the subject before Twilight embarked on a lecture about nitrogen build up or the alternative ways of expelling gas from the digestive system. 

“What are you doing down here?” He asked, gazing around the lab, which looked like what would have happened if the Cyber-steeds invaded Rarity’s boutique. Clothing covered in wires enshrouded ponyquins in a bizarre fashion. Most were connected to strange boxes and gauges. Pads, prongs, and clips dotted the ponyquins’ bodies all over. One bore distinct scorch marks and had a partially melted flank. 

“Oh don’t worry about that one; it was my Mark IV model, and I had a slight cross-wiring problem. It's all sorted out now! And without further ado, allow me to introduce my latest invention! The full-spectrum biological infatuation analyzer!”

Spike selected his best “I am very interested, but have no understanding of what you just said” expression. He had a lot of practice with this one. 

Twilight got the hint. “It's designed to relay information about what a pony is feeling. It records everything. There,” she pointed to a magical gem stuck to the forehead of a curiously shaped helmet, “is an audio-visual pickup. And there is the muscle recorder. This measures chest expansion to read breathing. And this bit here reads saliva and hormone levels…” The explanation continued on and on.

Spike wore his “interested and listening intently” expression knowing that she would have to stop eventually. 

And he was right. After naming no less than fifty distinct sensors, probes, and various other components, she concluded with describing the high-gain relay.

“This will transmit through the Kelms-Heismholds resonance effect a magical frequency, which will then be decoded by my thaumaturgy-wave meter” What looked like the remains of a jukebox that had been slammed through several shelves of plumbing parts stood proudly in the center of the room. “The signal then can be viewed here!”     

A random collection of dials, gauges, and screens grew off the “thaumategification-machine.” Several boxes spat out a continuous stream of scrolls with numbers, zigzagging lines, hieroglyphics, and other meaningless markings. These fell neatly into several boxes marked with such labels as: O2 sats, blood pressure, sweat production, skin conductivity, pupil width and numerous other things apparently of great interest to Twilight.

“Your job,” she said snapping Spike back to reality, “will be to record my observations. Think you are up to the task, Number One Assistant?”

“Of course!” Spike said, his chest puffing out importantly.

“Now this is important, listen carefully Spike, no pony can know what I am testing for. NO pony! If they find out, then it will bias the results and my entire experiment is compromised!”

“That shouldn't be a problem. I don’t even know what you are testing for.”

“Oh, of course, how silly of me. I'm testing…” The next part was so quiet that Spike couldn’t hear it. Twilight paused, looking at Spike and doing her best to match the color of Applejack’s barn. Then as her color returned to normal, her face took on a serious expression, “Spike, you must swear an oath to me that under no circumstances will you tell anypony what I am about to tell you. Swear to me the most solemn vow!”

“I swear.”

“Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” he deadpanned, making the gestures. He hated that silly oath but it seemed to satisfy Twilight, and he really wanted to hear what this was all about.

Her voice assumed a clipped, clinical tone, “I am scientifically examining what ponies’ bodies do when they are in love.” 

“Love? Gross!” 

“Spike, need I remind you that you have undertaken the most solemn oath of secrecy? If you are unwilling to help me, then I kindly ask that you vacate my lab so I can continue my work in peace!”

“Relax, Twilight. I won’t tell anypony and I won’t leave you alone at this.”

“Great, I knew I could count on you! Number One Assistant.” She winked, knowing how much Spike liked that moniker.  

“Alright, what's first?”

“We need some test subjects.”





Ok, just knock on the door. One knock. That is it. Leave your letter. Walk away. The letter explains everything. You carefully crafted it to tell her exactly how you feel about her. If she is at all interested then you can talk. If not… NO, don’t think like that! If not, no harm done. Twilight is one of the most understanding ponies around. And she is not going to reject you. She already likes you. Just knock. Knock, place, leave. Knock, place, leave.

Despite the simplicity of the operation, it never happened.





“Not tha’ I don’ trust you and all, Twilight, but you sure all t’is is, well, safe?”

“Of course, Applejack, I solved the wiring problem several models ago.”

“Err.”

“I really appreciate your helping me with this. I couldn’t do it without you. Now remember, just go about your day as normal and try not to let the equipment get in your way.” 

“Aye, course I trust you. Happy to help a friend in need. You gonna tell me what all t’is is for?” 

“Oh you know, just testing your general reactions to various stimuli.” 

“Yer the one with all them fancy mathematics.”

“Great, now all I need to do is calibrate the sensors. Just stand over there and follow Spike’s instructions. Then we can have you back to your day.”





Subject AJ1 has completed baseline readings. Spike, you getting all this? Ok, great. Just record everything I say. No, not this. Start now. Right after I say now. You writing? Good. Subject is now leaving staging area and continuing her day. Signal strength is holding. Vitals stable. Time is now 10:02 Standard Equestrian Time 

10:43. Subject has reached Sweet Apple Acres. No abnormal readings. Vitals are within established norms. Respiration holding, blood pressure holding, skin conductivity 7.51 S/m. Subject is beginning physically demanding tasks. Heart rate is up as is sweat production. All consistent with manual exertion.

“Hey Applejack, whatcha doin’?

“Just choppin’ some firewood.”

13:54. Subject is engaged in conversation with subject now designated RD1. Noting fluctuations in vital readings.

“Look, now ain't a good time.”

“No I mean what’s with that crazy getup, it looks kinda ho...”

“Sum experiment fur Twilight.” She cut in quickly.

13:56. Fluctuations are increasing. Subject’s heart rate is elevated past pre-exertion levels. Sweat production is also up. Noting weight shifts mainly on the front hooves. This could be the data we are looking for. Interesting blood distribution patterns are starting to appear. Subject is becoming flushed.

“I see, well when will you be done? I mean, are we still on for tonight? I know this great spot where…”

“Shouldin you b’ watchin’ the sky? Like ‘ight now? I will tawk to yo’ lat-er.”

13: 57. Subject is attempting to communicate without moving lips. Reason unknown.

“Oh, OH, ok you’re probably right, the clouds don’t move themselves after all. He eh. I was just stopping by to say hello. So hello! Well, goodbye then.” The hurt in her voice was clear.

“Hayfeathers.”

13:58. Massive spikes all across the board! Subject is definitely experiencing a strong biological reaction consistent with a strong emotional reaction. Skin conductivity is now at 15 Kts and climbing. Mane growth is holding. Spike are you getting all this?

Spike decided the test had gone far enough and took this opportunity to nudge something important with his foot. It fell over with a crash, knocking several cables loose. Twilight, still giving her observations as best as she could, dove into the pile of wires and components, and attempted to repair whatever witchcraft had broken. 

Spike pressed the transmit gem, and in his best Twilight impersonation said, “Applejack, you can go ahead and take off the rig. We haven't been able to get any data from the relay. We cannot even hear you.” He was glad she was the element of honesty and not he. As the power died to the system, the last thing he heard was Applejack calling out to the retreating blue pegasus.

“Did you say something?” Twilight asked, popping out of the tangled mass, several wires poking through her mane.

“Just told Applejack that we were having problems.” Technically that was true. “Looks like we lost the connection.” Also technically true, as static was filling the screens and the scrolls began to print out flat lines. 

14:03. Experiment terminated due to equipment failure.

“Twilight, I know Applejack is your friend but I don’t think you should run any more tests on her. Her work at Sweet Apple Acres is very important, and it isn’t fair to interfere with that. Besides, you wouldn’t want her to damage the rig; you know how she gets so dirty and sweaty. That is probably why the whole thing failed in the first place.” Spike felt a twinge of guilt for abusing the truth in such a manner, but he ignored it.

“I really think we could get some great data from subject AJ1. Look at what we already have! A few more tests and we could have the answers we need!”

Spike noticed the answers had become something “we” needed. 

Twilight sighed, “Alright, if you feel that strongly about it, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to diversify our subject pool. We can always come back to subject AJ1. ”

Subject AJ1 Observational Analysis: Subject, while showing interesting biological symptoms, is unsuitable for further testing due to inability to perform normal daily routine with experimental apparatus. Possible candidate for future tests.



	

11:14. Subject PP1. Subject has finished baseline readings. Is now leaving staging area and is entering test area. Vital stats are holding stable. Wait, blood pressure increasing! Respiratory rate has doubled! Eye dilation skyrocketing! Tail twitches at regular 4 second intervals. Massive gyrations! Ground is moving vertically violently . Eyes are closed. A pause, then the distinct sound of a hoof contacting forehead. Subject is bouncing, ahem, skipping down the road. Another pause. Whistling.

11:56. Subject has been bouncing for 42 minutes without any apparent reason. 29 minutes of those were spent bouncing in place.

12:08. Bouncing has ceased. Respiratory rate falling. Blood pressure falling.

“Twilight, are you still there?!? I was bouncing for a long time! Do you have any books about Kangaroos? I want to meet a kangaroo! They can bounce and bounce!”

O2 sats dangerously low. Subject has not inhaled in close to 71 seconds. Subject has broken the experimental wall and is attempting to converse with experimenter.

“And bounce!” 	

Subject has stopped to inhale. Tidal volume of lungs is amazing. Dialog is continuing…

…19:30. Subject has finished tying party hats on 87 helium balloons. Exact reasoning behind actions is not currently known. Exact reasoning behind most actions is currently unknown. 

“Twilight! Twwwiiii! These are the aliens! With this craaazzy costume I feel like a Spacepony! So I made up some alien friends! Seee their heads! CRAZY I know! Don’t worry, they cannot understand our language! We are having a party! You should be here! You love space! Oh wait you ARE here! Well you’re in my head! More like on my head! I should get you some punch! ALIEN PUNCH! They make the bessst space punch!” 

Subject is engaged in party for inanimate objects. Blood pressure readings, respiratory rates, pupil dilation, and muscle spasms are all fluctuating at random. No discernable pattern has yet been identified. Mane growth appears to be the only steady factor.

“Silly Filly! You cannot drink space punch if you’re not here! Maybe I should pour the punch into this box!" 

No, don’t! don’t! Twilight cried, forgetting that she could not hear her unless the transmit rune was pressed.

“I KNOW! I will bring the party AND the punch to you! Come on guys! Let’s go to Twilight’s! Come on! Ohhhhhhh, that’s right! He he! I mean: Beeep, beeepp, beep, bop, beep!”

Subject is returning to staging area. Experiment terminated. Subject PP1 Observational Analysis: Subject PP1 is unsuitable for further tests due to a fundamental randomness of actions.





A moment later, Pinkie Pie was at the door with her gaggle of “aliens,” and sure enough a party got started. Twilight needed the release. Besides the space punch was quite good. 





Looks like another party. Go in. You love parties. Well, you don’t hate parties. All that much. Perfect chance to talk to her. Just pull her aside. Everypony will be distracted and you can talk.





Twilight opened her door again. She could have sworn she just heard somepony knocking again. But upon opening the door there was no pony, save the three Cutie Mark Crusaders in a huge cloud of dust down the street. “Is it you fillies who have been knocking on my door?”

“Nope!” they all cried in unison, running out of the cloud, “we were too busy trying to see if our special talent is street sweeping.”

“The streets do look nice. I wonder who keeps knocking then, must be losing my mind.” 

“You’re not crazy, we saw who just knocked on your door. It was…”

Before Applebloom could finish, Big Mac stepped from out of the shadows and scooped her up. “Pardon me, Miss Twilight, Applebloom shouldn’ be out this late.”

“What are you talking about! It isn’t even dark out!”

“It's late and time for all you young ‘uns to get to bed.” 

“It's not even 4:00 P.M!”

“Daylight savings, come on get along. Move.” And with that, he shepherded them down the street and out of sight.

That was odd, Twilight thought to herself. Big Mac sure was acting funny. Daylight savings time was 2 weeks ago. And if not the CMC then who keeps knocking on my door? It couldn’t be Big Mac, could it? She blushed, looking down the street at the retreating red stallion and his three charges. No, that was crazy talk. I mean it was certainly possible…





Another pair of eyes gratefully watched Big Mac herding the Cutie Mark Crusaders away. Another close call; you cannot keep this up. A deep sense of self-loathing returned. I was so close. Why is this so hard!?! Why can I not just talk to her?








Author's note: As always any and all feedback is welcome. Thanks again to Pascoite and Mystic.

Version 3.0