Darkside Equestria: Redemption and Resurrection

by DarksideEquestria

Chapter 7: Meshing of the Gears

Seething Mass

Clink, Pow, socket, hammer, wrench, a bit of oil there perhaps, not much of a good thing isn’t very good at all you know.

“Are you almost done Seeth?” Big Mac has gotten so much more polite as time went on. He’s the protector I figured out that soon enough I figured it, protector of the Apple family. That’s his job, his duty. I don’t dare ask him what happened to the parents, not when he’s just started to trust me, but now he is the protector.

“The machine is almost completely functional!” I can yell now, I can raise my voice to let others hear what I say. It was so hard for a while, so hard to stand out at all in their eyes when I was already so strange. Best not to attract too much attention, I figured out soon, best to keep it quiet, to keep that thing that is me quiet. I don’t know why, but everypony is less comfortable when I am around. Well, they were less comfortable. Now I am starting to find a place. No, no that’s not it at all. There was no place for me to find. And yet, despite all of my strangeness, my fellow ponies have done something beautiful. They have made a place where I might almost fit.

“I need the gear, that gear over there with the small ‘7’ carved into it. I think it came from another old tractor you know, really old.” I’m under a massive block of ancient iron, resting above me like a chunk of the moon so far above. It hasn’t moved since yesterday, when Big Macintosh over-steamed the engine block while trying to build up speed to splash through a puddle. He doesn’t think anypony saw, and he’s right. He’s embarrassed though, and I can tell he must have been moving pretty fast for mud to get up under the shielding hood and to the top of the engine. He’s lucky the block didn’t split in half from the rapid temperature exchange. Oh well, I guess everypony needs to have fun in their own way. Big Mac splashes through puddles, and I repair the machines he damages.

“Uh, I’m sorry Seeth, but I can’t make heads nor tails of these gears you got piled up over here! Anything else I should know ‘bout it?”

I shuffle a bit under the block, craning my neck in the mud. There is a bit of the slushy gunk in my ear and my hair is stuck in my mouth and almost poking my eye. I see ok though, it’s right there, I almost say, little number seven all alone under that big red gear. Just look a little closer. “Think red Big Macintosh.” I say that and he grabs the red gear, almost heads off to give it to me, then notices that little seven underneath. “Hey! Found it!” Now he’s here, little number seven, and he brought Big Macintosh too. “Ever, you, have you ever wondered Big Macintosh, why the little details are like they are?”

He’s confused, I can tell. Here I am, neck craned, ear full of mud and hair trying to gouge out my eyes, and I ask him about some little hunk of steel. “Uh, nope. “ Simply stated. As always, master Mac. “Well I do, I do a lot.” This little gear, maybe it was the seventh in a row of interconnected gears, all mashing teeth and grinding steel, that powered some old farmer’s dreams for a while. Maybe it was lost for a while, and some little colt or filly found it while playing and had their grandfather carve their favorite number on it. Maybe it was a gift to somepony, a gift of a gear that was shiny and polished and didn’t have any rust on it, seven years married or something important. Or maybe it was just a gear with a seven on it. The little details matter, I try to tell Mac with my silence, pay attention to them.

He doesn’t understand, I can tell by the minor annoyance that flits over his eyebrows. Ah, one day perhaps he will get it. I pop the gear in and sloshing clamber out the other side. Macintosh is faster though, he’s in the seat already and when I nod at him he starts it. A bit of clanking, good sign of proper movement taking place believe it or not, then a small puff of steam as things heat up again and start shifting smoother, and then an acrid stench as that mud on top of the engine begins to burn off in the newly-borne heat. Steady noise, a shifting of a lever on Macintosh’s part, and the tractor moves forward to serve the Apple family once again. As he drives off, Macintosh looks back and waves with a hearty grin as the machine continues off towards the south fields. He’s happy now, not because the tractor is fixed, but because he can work again. Now he can work once more for the Apple family, to protect them and do his part as a member of the family. His purpose.

I’m really good at little details, and I over these past months I’ve realized ponies are just as much filled to the brim with such intricacies as any steam or magic powered mass of gears and cogs.

Back to the house I guess. I need some lunch I think. A quick glance at my left shoulder reveals it is about forty-seven minutes past the 4th hour after the noon clock struck twelve. Thanks to Twilight Sparkle’s insistent drive to help me make friends I was introduced to a pony named Time Turner, although for some reason I feel like I should call him Doc. He doesn’t seem to mind, although he seemed rather pleasantly surprised when I called him it the first time. Most curious isn’t he, most curious indeed…. At any rate he helped me repair a small clock I attached to my work harness, left shoulder so I can still shove stuff with my right if need be.

I haven’t eaten lunch yet, or breakfast, and come to think of it I almost missed supper yesterday as well. The house should be pretty quiet, Grams is gone to town I think, to meet with friends or something of the like. I noticed the cupboard where she keeps her scotch hidden behind the jugs of honey was slightly ajar, so I would deduce she will most likely return sometime close to dark time, that being around seven. Applejack will keep an eye out I’m sure.

I have to keep working on my project, my secret project nopony must know about yet. Needless to say, Tor’s intriguing,”Decorations,” as Twilight called them attracted my obsession to detail, a most marvelous setup to be sure. I have only the most modest of tools, but I think I can perhaps learn from their construction to create something much less harmful, hopefully something Tor will find interesting.

She’s here. Why does she need to be here, oh she of such quiet fearfulness? A quick look behind a pink mane, a light quiet step of a butter-yellow hoof towards the house where she no doubt hopes to find Applejack and not indeed a Seething Mass. I don’t understand, why after my first altercation at Sugar Cube Corner were the others able, willing in fact, to forgive me of my transgressions? Even more disturbing, why does my presence seem to bring such unease yet upon this one little Fluttershy? At this point my unnoticed vigil could serve only to further startle her when I appear. I step out of the door and announce my presence.

“Flll, Fluttershy, help, I, can I help you Fluttershy?” The slurring of speech, the reorganization of thought in a chaotic jumble that does not belong, no, doesn’t need to be, I recognize it as my thoughts in those first eventful weeks here. She brings it back, stirs my mind back to ill-ease and jumbled disorder. Oh Luna, spare me these awkward stumbles of thought. “umm, well, hi Seething. I-I was looking for A-Applejack..?” That is a question not a statement, Fluttershy, the little details tell me you want to leave, go away from me. Oh why does this horrid cloud of fear of pain of discouraged blue eyes flitting beneath pink locks she wants to leave she wants gone, away from this twisting and coiling, this roiling ocean of seething-“um, Seething Mass? Where is Applejack?”

Oops. Rambling mind.

“I, I don’t, I don’t know for sure I came back, I’ve been working, buil-repairing tractor, a tractor, and she isn’t here. “ She is quiet a moment. I can only see one eye really, one eye and a mass of pink hair shielding the rest of her from my sight. “um, well ok then. J-Just tell her I r-really need her help ok?” She backs slowly and is about to turn around and leave when I speak. Don’t know why, how, how I could speak but I speak.”Might, I might, I help I might help, might be able to help a bit.” She stiffens, tense, wings clamped to her sides. Couldn’t fly if she wanted to, she’s gone yeep. But she turns around, she’s nervous and afraid of me, but she wants to be kind. “Um, well, ok. I need some help, A-Applejack is so strong I figured she could help me move s-something out of the way. You see there’s, um, well a tree fell down and it landed in front of my door. I’d go in through a window, b-b-but they are all locked and I can’t get in.“

My eyes sag low for a moment and I’m greeting the cold grey of my hoofs and lower legs. Scatterbrained, yes, machine-friendly, yes, odd and disturbing, oh most certainly yes. All these things I am, and yet strong physically I am not.

“I can come, not sure lifting-not sure I’ll be able to lift. Not, I’m not that strong you see…” She’s somewhat saddened I think. “Um, that’s ok. I’ll go get Pinkie, she will be able to help. I wouldn’t want to disturb your afternoon.” “WAIT.” I run off, I have something, I forgot something; I’m also smart as well as scatter-brained and disturbing.

Oops. Don’t yell.

I don’t know why, she still stands there by the door to the house which she closed when I get back. It’s heavy, certainly, but perfect, so perfect for this. Fluttershy is a little shocked I think, maybe she’s heard of my tinkering from Applejack. “Woah, Seething, is that going to help?” She isn’t quite sure what it is for. “I want it to help, so I hope I can be useful.” She just nods a little, we move onward. She’s really quiet, even her footsteps are quiet. At least her wings aren’t clamped so paralyzing close to her spine now, she could probably fly if she weren’t trying to be polite. Myself? Quiet I cannot be. A clank here, a squeak of leather straps and glossy silver buckles. They were rusty, but I cleaned them when I would show them to Applejack and the rest. It shifts a bit on my back, but a quick tightening of clamps helps me keep them centered on either side. Rather odd really, a soft quiet yellow Pegasus nervously walking (more like pacing, but forwards only) slightly in front of a bony grey unicorn with all the metal joints and leather straps and cogs and such strapped to his back. How very odd indeed, Oh how I hope I can help.

“Well, um, there it is. Uh, do you want me to..?” I walk forward, yank a cord and a dull hum lights up behind me, on my back. Fluttershy goes quiet towards the end there, squeaking out the end of her sentence. “I, It rather needs to charge a bit, warm up, get ready. Then they will be ready. I hel-I hope I can help with these Shy, Fluttershy.” Still quiet, so quiet next to this clanking machine of a pony. “Wow, it has so many moving parts!” Unexpected, her eyes have dilated somewhat, she leans slightly forward, and speaking of (thinking actually, I am thinking now not speaking) I can now see both eyes. She’s genuinely interested in my machine. Confidence, I feel good about this I think. “Each part, parts serve purpose, serve the, purpose serve, serve, ser….”

I stop and take a breath, smile just a bit.”Sorry. Each part serves a purpose, every gear, every cog and lever, every strap or bent wire is just perfectly conformed to what it must be to make the entire thing work. And it’s not that delicate even, it’s hardy and sturdy and holds up well to use. I know, I had to test all night once! I was so tired when I woke up the next morning I had forgotten all my early chores!” The tempo of my words was slow and ponderous, but a subtle acceleration of word timing and intonation was obviously noticeable as I continued on with my unexpectedly generous bout of vocality. I didn’t even notice I was talking so much until I was done. “Oops, sorry.” I’m quiet after I say that, but I realize Fluttershy was laughing with me and not at me. “Oh, I think that’s funny!” She’s nervous, but continues.”After the Grand Galloping Gala I came home and didn’t wake up until 1-o-clock when Angel Bunny finally couldn’t stand his little tummy being unfed anymore!” Chuckle is the proper response. No, chuckle is the only response, natural; I don’t have to select it from a list this time. “Yeah.”

Then quiet awkward silence, a rest for both of us from the battle against our own selves. A tiny valve clicks by my ear; my beautiful machine tells me quietly that it is ready. “Ok, stand back a bit if you could please, the movement is a little jumpy. Tractor pneumatics are not especially precise.” She backs up, but not in fear. Her wings hang at ease, both eyes watch as the metal twitches and jumps clatteringly on either side of me. She is not at rest; she is attentively observing the entire process. She probably sees the joints like those of an eagle, or maybe her tiny bunny, so similar it’s uncanny. Then with a hiss the pistons jerk and the masses of steal, plastic and oil strapped to me spring outward roughly 1.37 feet to either side. My feet are planted, firmly, I’m in front of the door, but I knock a lever with chin by my right shoulder (My left shoulder says the time is now four minutes after the fifth hour after noon) and sturdy wooden legs flip down, five, to anchor me as I lift.

I grab another lever and give it a slight pressure, it clicks twice to the precision setting and I reach up with a hoof to a small joystick in the center of my chest, one of two right between the shoulders resting on my sternum. My front hooves are completely free to jerk the various small levers, press the different buttons, and maneuver the two joysticks lined up vertically on my ribcage’s center. The two arms stretch out to either side and gently extend the remaining foot to the tree. I open the clamps, a small hiss of steam release out the left and right mid vents, then settle these clamps around the circumference of the downed tree. I click the power lever upwards with my mouth, twice up to a stronger power setting. A hiss of steam, a wiggle of the joysticks, and the arms lift the tree entirely. Beautiful metal joints don’t squeak against their lubricated fellows, and soon the tree is entirely supported by the twin pillars of my own ingenuity.

I lean my head back towards where Fluttershy stares, her jaw is open, at the feat I have just accomplished with such ease. She looks and sees me smiling slightly. “Where should I put it?”

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Fluttershy isn’t afraid anymore. Unnerved slightly, like the rest when I come unexpected into a room, but no longer afraid. The whole tree thing helped a ton, so many ponies wanted to hear about my machine, even quiet Fluttershy’s word spreads in a town like Ponyville. Twilight was so happy, Applejack so happy to hear the rumors, that I have some sort of genius. Big Macintosh hit me lightly on the shoulder, and Tor insisted that I further examine the construction of his Decorations once he learned of my inspiration for the joints of my Lifter. Applejack wants to see if I can help out with the machine, use it on the farm, maybe make more. I want to help, I found out how now! Even Rainbow Dash and Rarity applauded me, Pinkie Pie demanding I somehow mount her odd Party Cannon onto the next one I build. And all thanks to Fluttershy.

How much better to feel accepted, not out of a standard of polite acceptance and courtesy, but due to your own positive action! Oh how good action feels when it overcomes and obstacle! Fluttershy apologized for acting so afraid after I replanted the tree, but she doesn’t get it. Her fear was honesty, and without it I could not have overcome this mental paralysis the company of ponies brings me. Her true kindness was truth, and oh how the future seems so brightly illuminated! I don’t know where I am from, from before I came to Ponyville, but things are getting so much better here. Now that I can feel the metal, make my symphony of gears and pneumatics, now that Fluttershy does not fear me, now that Big Macintosh chuckles quietly at my oddities and abandoned streams of thought.

Now that I feel like I belong.

Comments

[DarksideEquestria]

Another Seething Chapter for you guys! Don't worry though, another Tor chapter will follow this one, probably tomorrow.

Ann lies

[Beat Rush]

I personally like Seething more because of his interesting thought process and jumpy speech pattern, but Tor has the backstory and characterization that makes him a close 2nd.

[Demon Lord Inganno]

Loving it all so far

[OnlineImhotep]

I am using RED!!!

[DarksideEquestria]

1794672

I AM USING PURPLE!!!
So what did you think of the new chapters?
Ann lies

[OnlineImhotep]

1796352
They're alright!!!
I AM AMERICA!!!

[DarksideEquestria]

1796606

Well too bad because
THIS.
IS.
SPAAAARTA!!!!!!!!

Ann lies

[ClosetKnight]

HULK SMASH!

[Violet Runner]

For some reason I picture Seething Mass sounding like that Core from Portal that's obsesed with SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!