//------------------------------// // The Experiment: Peer Review, Materials, and Pre-lab // Story: The Sunlight Project // by Space Jazz //------------------------------// "I don't know, Twilight," Rarity said, sounding unsure. "Love isn't a series of calculated moves." Obviously, she had never heard of the phrase, "All's fair in love and war." Its meaning clearly alluded to the idea that love was a strategic endeavor, meant to be handled like a general on the battlefield. Otherwise, why else would they make love analogous to war? "Yeah," Applejack chimed in. "You can't just make someone like you." "Says you," I countered, crossing my arms in an indignant huff. So far, it wasn't going well. "It's nothing more than a chemical reaction in the brain—a perfect storm of adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin." For some reason, that earned a collective stare from the girls. "Oh, egghead, you're adorable!" Rainbow Dash piped, scooting in closer on the cafeteria bench. "You don't feel love in your brain." The cyan girl paused for a second before pointing at her midsection, "You feel it in your loins." "Rainbow!" Rarity screamed, swiftly elbowing Rainbow Dash in the gut. "Don't listen to her, Twilight. She wouldn't know what romance is if it dropkicked her in the face!" That was a painfully accurate description of what it felt like. "I think you might scare Sunset with all this... preparation," Fluttershy started. "I know I'd be freaked out a little if I saw all... this." She flipped through the pages and paused at the charts. "Yeah! It kinda looks like you're tracking down Sunset's murderer," Pinkie Pie pointed out, thumbing through the same charts. "Oooh, can I help? I'll be the Girl Wonder to your Caped Crusader!" If Shining hadn't left behind his comic book collection when he moved out, that reference probably would have been lost on me. "There's an idea for a pickup line," Rainbow Dash said after a patronizing laugh. "Look, Twilight," Rarity interrupted, removing the joking tone from the air. "If you really like Sunset, just be straightforward with her and ask. People love moxie. I know that's one of the qualities I look for." "But what if she says no?" I whined childishly, "I don't even want to risk ruining everything." "So you’re just going to manipulate her into liking you?" Applejack had already pushed her copy away. "Well, not manipulate. I'm just recreating the chemicals released when one is in love. Although I have no idea how to tackle serotonin… too much can lead to seizures and an irregular heartbeat." At least this time, the strange looks were justified. "So, what?" Rainbow Dash butted in. "Are ya just gonna stab her with an adrenaline needle?" "What!? Of course not!" I protested. "That kind of scientific practice is looked down upon, especially on unwilling subjects. Believe me, I checked." Maybe I have something stuck in my teeth, I thought. "Look," I continued, "it's just a simple sequence of events that, by the end, would plant the suggestion that Sunset and I are meant to date." Rarity put her hands on mine. “Maybe the best suggestion is to—now, hear me out—literally suggest going on a date." This was just going in circles. "Ugh. Okay. Other than that, can you tell me anything that it needs work on?" Rarity, looked over the papers, "You said the purpose of this, er, experiment is to maximize the chances of Sunset seeing you as dating potential, yes?" "Yes," I said, "it's right there in the thesis statement." "Well..." She paused. "How do I put this... critically?" She tapped on the table before looking back up at me. "You could tweak your experiment to not rely so heavily on the variable of Sunset even picking up on that notion." I blinked, putting together her words. "Go on." "I'm not saying you need to outright throw everything away. No, it would be a terrible waste of effort." Rarity took a sip from her orange juice, which was in a glass she apparently brought from home. "I think the experiment would be a lot more effective—or at least produce more conclusive results—if you directly introduced the variable to Sunset. After the experiment, of course." "Spoken like a true egghead," Rainbow Dash cackled. "She practically just said the—" She was met with another elbow. Rarity had a point. "When you put it that way, I guess I could try that," I conceded. "But I'm still going to need all the help I can get." "We wouldn't have it any other way," Rarity chirped. •·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·• "I was wondering if... you'd like to... go out. Y'know, just the two of us?" Okay, but it could be better. "Hey, Sunset. I was wondering if—I can't do this. Nope, not gonna happen." Frustrated, I kicked at the pavement, already scuffing the new pair of shoes I had picked up at the mall. Apparently, from what my Shadowbolt friends told me, they were designed to look better dirty anyway, but I still couldn't help but wipe away the small layer of dirt it had collected. I stood outside my house, watching misty clouds of air fly from my breath. At least the sweater my Shadowbolt friends had picked out was warm. Still, it felt good to think they were along for the ride, spiritually of course. There was also a little uncomfortable feeling on my face that came from me wearing contacts instead of glasses. If really needed to, I could go back to the comfort of my black rimmed lenses by digging in my backpack. Pacing around the driveway, I reviewed the project notes that were stored on my new cell phone. Already the small device was proving useful; on a single document, I was able to hold conversation topics at my beck and call, and the internet connection allowed me to look up information on the fly with no need for a computer. Although even I knew that pulling a phone out, especially during one on one conversations, was an unofficial signal of disinterest; as a result, I knew I had to use it sparingly. Even then, the girls would be around, so it wouldn't be too hard to sneak a look every once in awhile. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Applejack's truck making its way up the hill, once again carrying Sunset's bike. Behind it was Rarity's sleek white car, and I felt myself jump in a mixture of joy and anxiousness. Today was the day. Applejack pulled up at the side of the road, and I stopped at the passenger window as it lowered. This was where the first of a series of inconveniences reared its ugly head. "Two seater," Applejack called, "And unless you’re gonna hop in the back with the bike..." "It's cool. I get it," I said, turning away from the window. I tapped at the bed of the red truck and walked over to the white car where I hopped in the back. Immediately, a chorus of greetings was dropped on me, which I returned wholeheartedly. On the way, we stopped to get gas and pick up some snacks for the road. In reality, the drive wasn't very long, forty-five minutes at the most, but Rainbow Dash insisted that it warranted a snack run. I didn't object. I had skipped breakfast earlier that morning on account of my stomach twisting itself into knots, so at the very least I was thankful for the opportunity to buy a blueberry muffin and a bottle of orange juice. It didn't get any easier once I spotted the swirling steel towers that composed the Iron Pegasus, the flagship roller coaster of Funland Amusement Park. And, despite the name of the park, I knew I wasn't going to have much fun. To be completely, one-hundred percent honest, I’m deathly afraid of heights. And yes, I knew it was my idea, but it was for a purpose: How else could I have found a way to produce adrenaline without actually putting Sunset's life in danger? Simulated danger. Because of their ties to early state fairs, amusement parks were also known for their food, all the way from funnel cake to deep fried soda (yes, it's a thing). Food, through consumption obviously, stimulates neurotransmitters in the brain. Of course, the only food I had in mind was chocolate, a known aphrodisiac. So, to get to the point, Funland just seemed like the perfect place to combine the heart-stopping adrenaline of the thrill rides with a seemingly-bountiful supply of chocolate, which releases dopamine and serotonin. This kind of convenient efficiency was something most scientists would kill for. It was perfect, save for my fears of course, but that was a necessary sacrifice. "Twenty bucks for parking?" Rainbow Dash complained, crossing her arms in protest. "That's bull! All we're doing is leaving a car in an empty lot." "You're not the one paying," Rarity shot back, effectively shutting Rainbow Dash up. Plugging her card into the automated booth, she drove off into the empty lot and parked next to Applejack's red pickup. During the short walk to the entrance, the other girls made general statements of excitement and plans. Luckily, Funland's website had a map detailed enough so I could plan an itinerary for the day that accounted for long lines, sudden breakdowns, lunch (both out and in the park, depending on budget), and various park showtimes. The secret wasn't to try to ride everything but to get on a majority of rides in mostly every area of the park. The park itself was an amalgamation of distinctly unique microcosms, revolving around space, the wild west, and everything in between. An argument—though a lighthearted one for sure—rose up between the girls on where to start. I bowed out of the conversation, letting them figure it out for themselves, only butting in when one would suggest one of the more extreme rides. The only thing I wasn't sure of was whether to "Saddle up on the Iron Pegasus" as the map had suggested. "What about you, Sunset?" I asked, nudging her arm. "Oh," she piped, most likely caught off guard. "I don't know, I've never seen anything like this in person. Maybe start off one something more gentle, I guess." A girl after my own heart. Ultimately, we decided on a classic mainstay of any park: the spinning teacups. Much to Rainbow Dash's annoyance, it was the only one that met the requirements of immediate proximity and a short line. This was where I learned the strategy of line placement. The operator, a teenage boy, seemed adamant about keeping a four person maximum in each cup. It was just easier not to challenge the little authority that he had, and we were split into two groups. Unfortunately, my negligence put me in a separate teacup from Sunset Shimmer. The uncompromising tyranny of the part-time worker kept me from trading cups either, so I merely chose a pink teacup and sat in the seat closest to the tiny exit gate. The absence of safety belts was also a bit alarming. The county fair roots stayed strong in the lack of proper restraints, apparently. "Aw, sick!" Rainbow Dash cheered, shifting gears away from disinterest and grabbing onto the metal disc in the center of the cup. "We get to spin this baby around." Smirking, she glanced over at Applejack, "I betcha I can make this spin faster than you can." "I beg yer pardon?" Applejack asked. "Ah know you just didn't challenge me." "Yessir!" Rainbow piped, saluting cockily. "That's exactly what I'm doing." "Yer on, sugarcube." Oh boy. When the ride ended, my legs were practically jelly, and my stomach twisted into knots. Through my blurred eyesight, I caught the rest of the girls, who were all smiles and giggles, along with Applejack and Rainbow Dash who were both clearly proud of the speed they managed to get the teacup to spin. For the next few rides, I carefully planned my spot in line, guaranteeing myself a spot near or next to Sunset almost every time. As much as I wanted it to be all the time, I didn't want Sunset to catch wind that I was doing it intentionally. However, my meticulous planning was often ruined by nearby people asking to switch spots to ride at the same time as someone else in their group in an adjacent queue. Still, I managed to sit by Sunset about 72.7 percent of the time on a total of eleven separate rides. Unfortunately, there weren't any outwardly obvious effects of adrenaline in Sunset other than a heightened mood, which was the same in everyone else. I chalked that up to the general experience of being out with friends, but I was sure I could still turn the situation in my favor. The first sign of hope came literally printed on a sign, one that just happened to point in the direction of a candy shop. Faking surprise, I suggested we break the pace and make a stop for some sweets. Modeled after an old general store, The Clydesdale County Store was faithful to recreating the aesthetic of the old west (minus the unsanitary conditions, thankfully). Knowing what I came for, I made a beeline for the chocolate while the other girls wandered around the rest of the shop. Grabbing an out of place plastic bag, I stuffed what some would consider an excessive amount of chocolate into it. White, dark, milk—it didn't really matter as long as it had cocoa in it. Although, I was a bit concerned about the ridiculously large amount of chocolate I bought for only twenty dollars. “I think you might have a problem," Applejack commented as we walked out the shop. "Oh, please," I dismissed, popping a chocolate-covered pretzel in my mouth. Relying on pure self control, I stuffed the bag into my backpack for future use. "I'm going to share, obviously." •·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·• "You know what? I think I might sit this one out." My stomach didn't sit right as I looked at the looming tower above. It was designed to carry people up to two hundred feet and let gravity do the rest of the work. A structure like that, although meticulously screened and maintained for safety, still made me cringe at the thought of a free fall. "What are ya, chicken?" Rainbow accused. "Even Fluttershy's gonna get on." "I've said it before," Fluttershy spoke up, "I don't mind heights. It lets me feel like one of my birds." "You of all people should know that it's perfectly safe," Pinkie Pie said, bobbing up and down on her heels. "I've seen vending machines more dangerous than that." "Yeah, Twilight." Sunset chimed in. "You've been on my bike before, and that thing's an injury waiting to happen." She had a point. Sure, it was statistically more probable to get in an accident traveling two and from Funland, but I didn't want to admit that. Otherwise, I'd be in line already. "I'm still not going," I said, hoping the conversation would end there. "I'll get on anything else." "Even the Iron Pegasus?" Rainbow Dash asked, a smug smile forming as she probably realized she had the upper hand in an argument. Oh jeez. "Anything but that," I answered. "Well, it's no fun if you're not going to get on anything." "I know. Just... let me work up to it at least." "Suit yourself," Rainbow said, clearly disappointed as she walked towards the entrance. "Wait for us near the exit, I guess." I nodded, a little hurt at the comment, but I knew it was nothing really out of line or disparaging. The group disappeared behind a corner, going further into the queue. It wasn't long after that I made my way to a pair of unoccupied benches within eyesight of the ride's exit. Hastily, I dug into my pocket and pulled the cell phone, calling one of the many lifelines I had. "Hey, Cadance!" I squealed, unable to hide my frantic tone in my voice. "I need your help, bad." "What's going on? Are you okay?" "I'm fine," I said, realizing how easily it was to misinterpret the conversation through a lack of a visual aid. "I just need some relationship advice right now." "Oh." The brevity of her response was filled with relief. "Ask away." "I need the dos and don'ts of courting a woman." There was a pause over the phone. "Can you be more specific?" "I'm at Funland with Sunset and a group of friends." "And where is she?" "Currently," I started, looking up at the steel tower ahead of me as it began to plummet, "most likely falling about two hundred feet." "Oh," Cadance said. "Does Funland still have those carnival games?" "Yeah, why?" She paused, most likely to think of what to say next. "Shining and I went there on a date once." Already things were looking up. If it helped cement Cadance's relationship, it could help do wonders with mine. "Can you tell me anything about it?" She laughed, and I could feel her smiling through the phone. "Shining tried to win me one of those stuffed bears." Key word being "tried," I thought. "He spent fifty dollars trying to win me that thing," Cadance finished, laughing. "He never got it, but I found it adorable that he was willing to go that far." She broke off into another laughing fit. "It got so bad, that I had to buy the food when we ate there." "That definitely sounds a lot like him," I said. "Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of being awkwardly cute. I'm just plain awkward." I hung on the last word, thinking about how much of a long shot all of this was. Call it a moment of clarity or whatever, but I suddenly couldn't stomach the very real chance of rejection. It was easier when it was just an idea, a farfetched goal, a harmless reverie, but now I was here, and it was all or nothing. Stunned, I just sat there on the bench and watched the droves of people as they passed by. Cadance was talking, most likely reassuring me, but I could not bring myself to listen. Instead, my attention was focused on the waves of people as they passed by. At some point, I hung up on Cadance. And about a half-minute or so later, she sent texts asking if I was okay, which I answered with vague one-word answers. Eventually, she stopped, and I was left alone with my thoughts. Off in the distance, there was some guy proving his strength on a Hi-Striker, but no matter how hard he brought the hammer down, it never reached the bell. Not too long after, he gave up and went about his day with a disappointed shake of the head. I was so preoccupied with the planning stage that I forgot Sunset at any point could just say she wasn't interested. But now, with that in mind, I didn't want to risk it at all. Instead, I quietly resolved to keep my crush to myself.