House of the Rising Sunflower

by kudzuhaiku

Dealing with inflation

Sundance stood on the spot where the foundations for the gatehouse would soon be laid. It was barely past dawn, but already there was a flurry of activity, a reminder of the resiliency of teenagers and the young. His back had a fierce itch to it and it seemed as though his skin had done an amazing job of knitting itself together just a bit more overnight. Some areas had closed completely, but others needed just a little more time.

He waited, worried, concerned. Corbie was at a tough age, and he remembered being that age himself, with the impossibly confusing teenage years just on the horizon. After Corbie’s sudden departure last night, he had a long conversation with Skyla, who seemed entirely too self-aware for a filly her age. Near the end of the conversation, Skyla suggested that Corbie was too old for toys, but too young for boys—a witticism that left Sundance uncomfortable for reasons he could not give voice to.

It was rough hitting that age. He thought of his own experiences; he had dabbled, experimented, and snuck about, fearful of his mother discovering his secretive activities. But ultimately, he never got around to sorting himself out. Now, as an adult, he was every bit as apprehensive about his development as a pony more than half his age.

Though he had no idea what he wanted to say to Corbie, he hoped to offer her some reassurance, a word or two about how it got better. Except, now as he stood here thinking about it, he wasn’t so sure it did get better. He was, for the most part, still unsorted. How and why he could relate to a filly, a foal, was beyond him, but here he was, nervous and tongue tied, but hopeful that he could help. There was the distinct feeling that Nuance and Corbie didn’t get out of the castle much, and might have a few friendship issues.

It was something he understood well enough to leave him quite uncomfortable.

---

“Corbie!”

Sundance hurried forward when he saw her coming in for a landing on the airstrip. Not yet a good flier, or even an adequate flier, she needed plenty of room to come down. It occurred to him that being kept under guard in a castle did not give her much chance to develop her flight skills, and for a pegasus pony, flight skills were everything. The fact that she risked these potentially embarrassing landings rather than use the lift spoke volumes for her character, and he found that he admired her spirit.

She came down hard and almost took a tumble. Her left front fetlock suffered a bit of a twist and for a moment, Sundance almost ran over to her—but then he realised just how embarrassing that might be. However bad it was, she recovered, and after a bit of a clippity, cloppity run, she came to a skidding halt with plenty of runway to spare.

“I’m glad to see you—”

“You are?” Corbie folded her wings against her sides, pursed her lips, and blew her mane away from her glasses, which were now fogged over from her efforts.

“Last night—”

“I had one of my moments last night.” Again, she tried to blow her mane away from her face, but it just spilled back down. “It’s hard, you know? Yesterday was almost perfect. It was just what I needed. I need to be needed. Nuance… he’s getting better and he needs me less and less. He has Quiet, so he’s ignoring me, and that always stings a bit. But helping Amber made me feel good. And I’d like to do that now.”

She looked up at him, expectantly.

“I won’t keep you,” Sundance said to her and his soft response got him a smile. “Just remember… we’re family. I’d like for us to be more than friends. If you ever need to talk—”

“You’ll be there for me?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, but his actions felt inadequate, unable to convey the depth of his feelings. Glancing about, he struggled to find meaningful words, but those were in short supply. “I know how you feel.” His sudden disclosure offered no comfort, no satisfaction. The words were hard, bitter, like a pill that didn’t want to be swallowed.

“Feeling inadequate, I mean.” Dropping his gaze, he stared down at his own hooves. “Being around all of you… even you, Corbie, it just calls attention to the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. All of you… all of you have the best education that money can buy. Education that only the royals can afford. You’re born with every advantage and you can get anything and everything you want out of life. Skyla… I can’t even connect with Skyla. When I’m around her I just feel self-conscious. I’m passive. So far, I’ve just been letting things happen and you… all of you… you show up and suddenly there’s these plans and progress is made, and so many things happen all at once. So yeah… I understand how you feel about your brothers and feeling inadequate.”

“When it matters, you do right.”

“I do?”

“You took me to help Amber,” she replied. “And right now, you’re trying to make me feel better. You stood here, waiting. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bit ditzy and I don’t always pay attention, but I noticed. You worried about me, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he confessed.

“Thank you.” Corbie sighed the muted, soft-spoken words. “I’m the quiet mostly well-behaved one. Sometimes, I have to cause trouble just to get noticed at all.” She smiled and her wings fidgeted against her sides. “I really need to go. I bet Amber is dying to know what happens next. Her mom, too. And Lemongrass. Walk with me?”

He nodded. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“You’re very nice.” The filly bowed her head for a moment, almost apprehensive. “Again, thank you.”

---

Still bright and early, the first foundation for a dome home was already poured. Sundance watched, eager, curious, all of his senses almost overloaded. The air smelled of ozone, of earth, the weird smell of cloudcrete that defied description. With everything that had to happen in such a short span of time, a brisk pace had been established by Commander Humblewood.

While the foamy cloudcrete was still bubbly, an immense inflatable form surrounded by multiple layers of wire mesh was lowered into the foundation, and pressed down deep. This displaced the cloudcrete, pushing it up the sides of the foundation, until it almost, but not quite, overflowed the sides. It was just the perfect amount, a sign that everything was proceeding according to plan. Sundance had wondered why they’d filled the depression in the ground almost halfway full, and now he had his answer: the inflatable form turned a thick mass of cloudcrete into a thin shell.

With the inflatable form and the wire mesh cage now in place, more fluffy bits of cloudcrete were added, sprayed from a loud machine that belched clouds of ozone-scented steam. These blobs stuck to the rough fabric of what Sundance thought of as a really ugly balloon, one covered in the dust and grit of previous projects. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, the cloudcrete stuck to the sides of the inflatable form that gave shape to the inner structure, and little by little, bit by bit, it stuck to the wire mesh and gained thickness.

A city-dweller, Sundance had watched a great many buildings constructed, but he’d never seen anything like this. No girders were hoisted with a crane, no massive panels of steel or glass, no slabs of concrete stacked up like a foal’s collection of wooden blocks—right before his eyes, the dome was taking shape, squirted out like lightning-infused cake batter from some mad machine.

Sparks flew along the thick metal wires and crackled as fresh cloudcrete was added.

Everything now smelled hot. The metallic tang of heated metal tickled Sundance’s nose and made him want to sneeze. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that the cloudcrete was baking itself somehow, through some means unknown to him. A dome was slowly taking shape as more cloudcrete was added, and when everything was said and done, the inflatable support would be deflated and removed.

There were windows visible, their rough shape only now manifesting, and the door was in the place where the umbilicals connected to the inflatable form that gave shape to the dome as it was constructed. It was like making an egg—or in this case, a dome. Once everything was done, when it was finished, there would be a solid, seamless structure that would endure.

“That’s what I like to see,” Commander Humblewood said in a booming voice that almost echoed through the box canyon. “A damn-near perfect job. Pay attention, you lot. Some of you have experience. Some of you don’t. For those of you that don’t, today is the day you learn. I want nine more domes raised today, so the finishing teams can get to work. Tomorrow, I’ll want another ten domes raised. We’ll work at night, if we must, but we’re finishing ten domes a day.”

A few of the more enthusiastic sorts raised a cheer, and Commander Humblewood cracked a hard smile. There was an energy here, a shared sense of purpose. These kids had enlisted with the desire to change the world, and here they were, doing it. Sundance felt it in his bones and his re-awakened idealism remembered exactly how it felt, wanting the world to change, but fearing that it never would—or worse, gradually believing that it would only change for the worse. This army, this Corps of Gringineers, their energy was infectious and Sundance felt quite revitalised.

Change was possible, and the proof was right before his eyes. He had been changing things as well, but for whatever reason, he’d failed to recognise what he’d done. Hiring Corduroy was far more meaningful than he’d first realised, and it was only now, at this moment, as the first of the domes took shape that he understood what he was a part of—and it almost took him right down to the ground. It was only here, together, united for a common cause, a shared goal, that the change became apparent.

“Get to work, you lot!” Commander Humblewood barked. “Causae communi!”

And then, in response, with many voices raised as one, “Causae communi!”

Sundance had no idea what it meant, but something about it left him filled to the brim with hope.

---

Skyla examined the dome with a critical eye as she walked around it. Sundance too, studied it, but he stood still, in one spot. Two arched windows, one on each side, and an arched door with a peaked top. It had no glass, no door, it wasn’t even finished yet. Just a shell that would be transformed into a domicile somehow.

“We need these in the Crystal Empire,” Skyla said as she continued her slow circuit around the dome. “I understand the need for aesthetics, but the crystal shapers can’t keep up with the demand. Every homeless pony, every homeless creature, they are evidence of our failure, and something must be done. An empire is only as prosperous as the least of its subjects.”

“Aye.” Berry Briar offered up a respectful nod to Skyla. “Well said.”

“Get a lot of immigrants coming your way?” Sundance asked.

“Some,” Skyla replied, “but that’s not the real problem. The real problem is that the Crystal Empire has become Equestria’s hospital city. We have hospital trains and hospital airships that bring ponies to the Crystal Empire. Then we have the mass-marriages and everything else. Where do we house all these ponies seeking aid? Seeking services? An actual hospital has waiting rooms, and patient rooms… but we’re a hospital city and our patients vastly outnumber what is available to shelter them. The numbers fluctuate far too much.”

“That’s, uh…” Fearing that he might sound stupid, Sundance allowed his words to trail off.

“You and I have something in common.” For a moment, Skyla’s lips pursed together, and all of her princessly poise was lost to her intensely sour expression. But she recovered, found her smile, and struck a commanding pose. “We’ve both inherited our woes. You have a fixer-upper barony, and I’m getting a fully functioning city that is just riddled with problems. That’s our life. Royals, nobles, we’re just normal ponies really, with really ginormous problems. We don’t have to fix them, but we do. Might be because we’re stupid, I have not yet fully discounted that possibility.”

“If not us”—Sundance stroked his chin with his wing—“then who?”

“Exactly.” Skyla, now fully restored to her prim and proper self, flashed a confident smile.

“Baron Sundance.” Commander Humblewood took a moment to clear his throat. “Would you like to have a look inside?”

Author's Note:

By the way, the process I described in this chapter is real. Google inflatable concrete domes. Some neat tech, if I do say so myself.

Comments

[Dlaf rferg]

That is some neaterino technologics.

[Emtu]

I don't think this is the same one you're talking about, but it's super fucking cool, and was the first video result when I googled that.

Edit: I suspect the Binishells are the ones you're emulating in the chapter.

[Seirhune]

I have always wanted a dome house.

Maybe I wouldn't actually like it, but it seems nice.

[niltag]

The way it was described in the chapter makes it sound like they just 3D-printed a house.

[Da Fennec]

VERY real tech google Monolithic domes used as tornado shelters hurricane resistant homes and something I've considered if I were to ever build my own home. They can be relatively simple or more complex..

VERY NEAT chapter thank you for sharing it. I think those last few lines with Skyla were something of an eye opener for Sundance.

[Da Fennec]

9572878 Seen that done too and its cheap and competitive but the dome home is more in line with the tech we've seen in Equestria so far

[Rescue Sunstreak]

If you want to see the future of building. Go on YouTube and look up concrete printer

[Da Fennec]

9572945 Waiting to hear more on that along with durablity and thermal values. Also waiting to see if they can ramp it up in terms of size What I have seen impressive

[kudzuhaiku]

9572878
Think of it more as papier-mâché than 3D printing.

It's real tech. Old tech. Been around for a bloody long time.

[Bahamuttone]

pony more than half his age.

Hmm this would mean any age between half his age and his age. (So if Sundance is 24 any age between 12 and 24) I’m not sure that is what you meant.

[kudzuhaiku]

9573236
No.

It means the opposite.

It would mean that, if Sundance was 20, that the pony in question would be a number lesser than 10.

It's one of those odd quirks of English that makes sense in a nonsensical way.

It's a euphemism that only makes sense to native English speakers, I suppose. I never really noticed how backwards it was until just now.

[Spectrumancer]

A though, regarding Corbie and her siblings: Would Sundance be their nephew, or their cousin?

Technically, he is a nephew (i think), but practically, the age difference is the other way around, the multi-century generation gap makes things even more confusing, and the friendly manner of their relationship makes it feel more like a cousins kind of deal. And calling someone half your age your aunt seems strange.

Immortals make a mess of even straightforward family trees

[kudzuhaiku]

9576900
If one isn't careful, one could end up as one's own grandpa.

[Alot Master]

Every homeless pony, every homeless creature, they are evidence of our failure, and something must be done.

Boy I wish my city thought like that. Portland has a serious problem with that.