Mad Science: Chapter 7

Mad Science

 

Chapter 7

By IceMan

 

>For once in a long time, you sleep late into the morning, until Twilight finally wakes you up.

>“I made tea,” she says. “Would you like to have some?”

 “Yeah, sure,” you reply blearily, yawning and scratching the yellow crust of sleep from your eyes.

>Twilight trots ahead, and you hear the clinking of saucers and mugs as you trudge upstairs.

>She presents you with the standard small white mug of transparent brown liquid, steaming ever so slightly.

“Thanks,” you murmur as you take a sip.

>It’s just the right temperature.

>“So, since I was so easily able to convince to come to that fiasco of a picnic – ”

“It was only a fiasco because of me,” you reply, setting your mug down on the saucer.

>“Hush. I shouldn’t have made you go after everything we’ve discussed.”

“Fine,” you sigh.

>“Anyway, I was wondering, what do even want with all that equipment anyways?”

>You take another sip of tea before speaking.

“I’m looking for a human technology to re-create in Equestria. I could sell the design or patent it, whichever is easiest, and pay what I need to for the transporter. Here, I’ll show you.”

>You take Twilight back downstairs.

“Twilight, how does that electroencephalograph work?” you ask after examining it for a moment.

>“Huh?”

“What I’m planning to build is a device called a radio. It transmits signals via electromagnetic waves and can be used for communication, entertainment, and all sorts of other things. However, that device -” you point to the electroencephalograph, “- was invented after the radio on Earth. Long after. So, how does it work in your universe?”

>“I’m not really quite sure myself. It’s an old machine that the hospital gave to me for research. As far as I can tell, it functions mostly by magical means, probably a few enchantments bound to the poles of the helmet.”

“Can you use magic to detect elec - er, lightning energy?” you ask after a bit of thinking.

>“It’s a complex spell, but yes.”

“Then that’s how it probably works.”

 >Twilight nods in agreement.

>Your theory that magic and electricity are related is only further corroborated.

“I think I’m going to take all these machines apart,” you declare.

>“Why do you need to that?” Twilight responds.

“I need to see if they have any of the components I need. There are some fairly complex items that I need and would prefer not to have to build from scratch, considering that most of them are made of metal. Machining here does not seem to have reached the level of precision that it has on Earth. If you want, I could repay you.”

>“No, no. You don’t need to repay me for anything. C’mon, Anonymous, we’ve been over this before. Just tell me when you’re done and if you need any help,” she says as she climbs back upstairs.

>You’ve decided to build a simpler design for a radio then the previous, more powerful version you had previously thought of.

>Considering the difficulty you have with obtaining metal parts, it is for the best.

>The design is based off the ones American soldiers used in foxholes during World War II, and can be built from a few rudimentary supplies.

>You will also need to design a radio emitter to prove the radio works.

>You pull out a screwdriver from one of the drawers and begin to undo the screws holding the electroencephalograph together.

>Prying off one of the stainless steel panels, you begin to carefully detach the red, rubber-coated wires.

>You strip the wires of their insulation with a pair of scissors and carefully wrap the thin copper threads around a cardboard cylinder you found in one of the drawers, leaving a bit to be used as a ground.

>Sifting through the drawers of supplies, you come across a few paper clips, safety pins, and thumbtacks.

>How ponies use these, you have no idea, but you are not exactly in the mood to question the insanity of this universe when there is work to do.

>Using more wires looped around a cut pencil and one of the scissor blades you create a small cat-whisker receiver to pick up the radio signal and attach it to the main copper loop with a paper clip.

>To further secure the circuit, you use thumbtacks to affix the wire loop and receiver to a wooden board.

>A final wire leading off of the receiver connects to a speaker from the EKG machine, allowing the radio signals to be converted into sound.

>With that, the radio is complete.

>The problem is no sound is coming out.

>Residual radio signals from Equestria’s sun should at least produce some static.

>You then realize you forgot to oxidize the scissor blade to help it transmit the signal.

“Twilight!” you call. “I need your assistance.”

>“What is it?” she asks, walking down the stairs.

“I need you to light a magical flame so I can oxidize these scissors.”

>She stares, jaw agape, at the disarray you’ve made of her laboratory.

>Tangled, multi-color heaps of wires, detached metal parts, half a broken pencil, and a now-useless pair of scissors are strewn throughout the room.

>Stepping over a mound of thumbtacks, she slowly begins telekinetically placing materials back in their drawers.

“Sorry for the mess,” you finally apologize.

>Twilight’s eyebrow twitches a bit.

>“It’s fine.”

“I’ll clean it up once I’m finished,” you suggest.

>“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

>“You might put something back where it doesn’t belong. Then I wouldn’t be able to find it again when I need it, and then I’d think it was lost, and then I’d spend an hour searching for it and –”

“Twilight, calm down. We’re both logical people.  I’m certain I will put it back better than it was before. You had the scissors next to the screwdrivers, just for example.”

>“Because they both start with S!”

>You frown.

>“Why do you even need to build this darn radio thing in the first place?” Twilight shouts.

“I told you. I plan to sell or patent it,” you state with an even tone.

>“You still need more money for your transporter?”

“Unfortunately, yes . . . . Now, could you light that flame for me?”

>“Alright, fine. Here,” Twilight says, her horn shimmering.

>With a small pop like a bubble bursting, a purple flame ignites on a clear spot on the floor.

>You carefully lower the steel blade, which begins to glow red, into the sparks.

>The shiny metal soon clouds over with dull, purplish oxidation.

>With the blade replaced, the chattering of charged particles and errant photons is emitted from the speaker.

>“Is that what it’s supposed to do?” Twilight asks, peeking over your shoulder.

“Yes and no. I haven’t finished it yet,” you explain. “It’s only picking up subatomic particles bouncing off this planet’s atmosphere and random radio signals from outer space. I need to create a more precise transmitter.”

>You amble over to the medical devices and pull out a few resistors, capacitors, and transistors from the electroencephalograph.

>As has become disturbingly common, they are eerily similar to the same components you were used to using back on Earth.

>Using paperclips, you attach them to a loose rectangle of copper you brought with you.

>It is the same piece that you used for your solar cell a while ago.

>The oxidation flaked off with a good rubbing with some cloth.

>Using more paper clips, you carefully arrange the various electrical parts on the makeshift circuit board and connect them with several strands and loops of copper wire.

>Twilight watches you, barely blinking and staring at your deft hand motions.

>You connect the transmitter to a battery.

“Twilight, who makes all these parts?” you ask, showing her a couple of the extra electronics you pulled out.

>“Engineer unicorns. They imbue them with spells to monitor and control magical current, I think. How do things like these work on Earth?”

“Conductivity differentials. Wiring. Various principles of electrostatics and dynamics. It’s complicated. I just find it odd that Equestria can be so advanced electronically and yet be so backwards in other areas. It’s illogical.”

>Twilight grimaces.

“Also, how do you use these paper clips?” you inquire, picking one of the small aluminum fragments up off the floor.

 >She gives you a deadpan glare and bends it with her telekinesis.

“And how would an Earth pony do that?”

>She stamps it on the floor.

“I have another request of you, Twilight,” you state.

>“More stuff to be taken apart?” she replies. “More messes to be made of my perfectly organized laboratory?”

>You merely nod.

“That telephone upstairs. I need it.”

>Twilight sighs.

>“Alright. I haven’t ever used it either, I guess. Some eccentric inventor donated it to the library. I haven’t used any of these machines down here in about a year either.”

>You frown for a second, and then clamber back upstairs, taking the radio receiver with you.

“Keep this up here,” you tell Twilight. “If you hear my voice coming from that speaker, give me a signal of some kind.”

>You head back down stairs.

>After attaching the phone transceiver receiver output to the radio transmitter, you declare into the mouthpiece, “Test.”

>“I can hear you up here!” Twilight shouts.

“Through the radio?”

>“No . . .”

>You grunt and fiddle with the transmitter a bit.

“Test. One, two, three. Test.”

>No response.

>Maybe if you shift that transistor to the left a bit?

“Test. One, two, three. Test.”

>Once again, no response.

>The capacitor on the left is a little crooked; you bend it back into place.

>This process repeats itself for another half an hour.

>You tweak and re-tweak each and every part of the transmitter until finally.

“Test. One, two, three. Test.”

>“I heard that, Anonymous! It came right through the speaker!” Twilight shouts down.

>You smirk.

>With a little patience, everything works in the end.

>You cautiously set the transmitter down, making sure that none of the electronics are disturbed, and begin to pick up the piles of wires and other parts you used and place them back in the drawers.

>Twilight gallops downstairs.

>“Anonymous, that was amazing!”

“Well . . . thanks. It is a rather interesting piece of technology,” you state, picking up the transmitter and carefully examining it as if you were seeing it for the first time.

“Now to find someone to buy it.”

>Twilight runs her hoof against the floor.

>“I know someone who might want it . . .”

“Who?”

>“A stallion named Filthy Rich. He’s the wealthiest pony in town,” Twilight rushes out.

“You couldn’t have told me this beforehand? I would have gone and talked to him first before doing all this work.”

>“Well, Anonymous, you see, Filthy Rich is . . . he’s kind of a jerk. He owns this huge company called Barnyard Bargains, and he has a corner on the market of dozens of products.”

“He’s an astute businessman then. He’ll know a good idea when he sees it.”

>“He and his whole family are bullies and snobs to practically everyone.”

“That really doesn’t matter to me. Business is business.”

>“Anonymous, please don’t give him this device. For me.”

>For her?

>Why should you do it for her?

“I –”

>Wait!

>There was that rich guy.

>At the park in Canterlot.

>Fancy Pants.

“There is someone else I could talk to. He met me in Canterlot, after the party. A stallion named Fancy Pants. I think he might want this little machine as well. But, I’m still writing to Filthy Rich as well.”

>Twilight smiles.

>“Alright, that’s a fair deal.”

“I’ll see who can give me a better offer,” you justify to yourself.

>Twilight calls down Spike with two pieces of parchment, an ink pot, and a quill.

>You write the two letters, explaining succinctly and effectively the function and purpose of the device.

>Spike runs out and puts them in the mailbox.

>Now to play the waiting game.

>You pick out another book, entitled “Mastering the Natural Elements.”

>A few hours later, you finish it.

>It was a thin tome, but even so, you noticed how short it took to finish it.

>You generally finished books extremely quickly; that came with mental acumen.

>But knowledge bound in leather tomes or written on scrolls of parchment was not infinite.

>You were beginning to realize the only thing that might be keeping you sane in this world was constantly having some progression towards your ultimate goal: constructing your transporter and then . . . leaving.

>The book had also added very little to your queries about magic and its origin.

>It was mostly a guide for students interesting in learning elemental spells so that they could create fires and send bolts of lightning streaming from their horns.

>It might be necessary to have a direct discussion with someone who knows magic inside and out.

>And, fortunately, that type of pony lives upstairs.

>As you jog up there, you notice Twilight strapping a small satchel to her side.

>“Oh. Hi, Anonymous. I thought you were just going to stay in the basement all day.”

 “I have a question that I think you might be able to answer,” you state.

>“What is it?” Twilight inquires. “Or, well, how about this. Come walk with me, and we can talk about whatever you want. I have some errands to run.”

“I want to learn a little more about magic. Just out of my curiosity,” you answer as you walk out the door.

>“You’ve torn apart, once literally, several books on the subject. I’d hardly counting asking me as learning ‘a little more.’ What could you possibly still want to learn?”

>You shake your head and give a short chuckle.

“They answered most of my questions on what magic can do, but not where it comes from or why it has such extensive power.”

>“You’re asking questions that not even the most talented magicians can answer. We just don’t know where magic comes from, Anonymous.”

>Twilight stops at a small stall selling carrots.

>She telekinetically lifts one up and examines it, then hands about five gold coins to the shopkeeper.

“It’s just that there should at least be some rules governing it. Instead, magic seems to function purely by the skill of the caster. It’s entirely illogical.”

>“Well, some of the things humans do are illogical,” Twilight rebuts. “Why do you play a game called football mostly with your hands?”

“To be fair, the game called ‘football’ in most of the world is played with your feet,” you reply with a small grin.

>“Fine. Then why are humans at war with each other? Why can’t you guys just talk out your differences and compromise?”

“Because, unfortunately, that’s just not how humans interact. Everyone has enemies. Sometimes petty things add up, and suddenly what started as someone sneezing in your soup turns into a global conflict,” you state.

>Twilight frowns, defeated for now.

“If I had some better instrumentation, I’d probably run a few more precise tests on your magical abilities,” you surmise as the two of you approach a small stand selling elaborately carved wooden figurines.

>Twilight takes a moment to look at a statue of a dragon while you continue talking.

“Unfortunately, I’m simply going to have to go on some qualitative tests,” you continue.

“I currently theorize that magic is simply a focused form of electricity. What I need to figure out is how the unicorn horn focuses electrical energy to such a potent state. Do you have any unicorn horns that I may be able to study?”

>Twilight suddenly perks up, whipping her head around and her ears shooting back.

>The shopkeeper stares at you, shocked.

>“Anonymous! You cannot have a unicorn horn for testing!” Twilight yells.

“Why not?”

>“Cutting off a unicorn’s horn is the most barbaric thing you can ever do!”

“Noted. I’ll have to find a skeleton then.”

>“Anonymous!”

“I need some way to examine the structure of the unicorn horn. I don’t have an x-ray machine or some other way to see inside it. I need a unicorn skeleton,” you explain.

>Perturbed, Twilight walks away from the figurine stand.

>“Come on. We’re heading back to the library,” she orders.

>Once back inside the tree, Twilight pulls out a large, black, ancient tome from one of the top shelves.

>It is only marked with an indecipherable gold rune.

>Blowing off a small plume of dust, she cracks the book open to reveal a pearl white horn inset into a triangular slot in the back cover.

“I thought you said cutting unicorn horns off was barbaric.”

>“I didn’t do this. It was inside the book when I got it,” Twilight rebukes. “It’s better than you having to - I can’t even think about it. It’s better than you doing whatever you’d need to do to get another horn.”

>You gingerly pick it up and begin to examine it.

>Cautiously, you head downstairs into the basement to get a magnifying glass to examine the structure; Twilight follows you.

>You quickly find a small lens, though a cursory examination of the horn yields few structural details.

“Do you have a stronger magnifying glass, or a microscope or something?” you request.

“Yes,” Twilight replies.

>She heads over to one of the larger cabinets and pulls out a heavy microscope.

>You place the horn on the slide and begin to study it again.

>At the highest magnification on the microscope, you begin to see an array of thin planes of crystal-like structures that make up the horn.

>Like a miniature, organic Tesla coil, these planes must focus and guide electrical energy towards the tip, where its power can be unleashed.

>Now to test your hypothesis.

>You walk over to the currently-off electrocardiogram machine and strip one of the wires with a pair of scissors.

>“Anonymous, what are you doing?” Twilight asks.

“Science.”

>You twist the stripped wire around the base of the horn and push the little button on the side of the electrocardiogram to turn it on.

>The machine hums to life, and white sparks travel up the un-insulated wire towards the horn, which begins to glow brightly.

>Your hand begins to quiver with the buzz of electricity as it builds up inside the spike of bone.

>A few dribbles of power burst from the tip, followed by a rush of free electrons, like the bursting of a tiny dam.

>A buzzing tree of blue lightning bursts from the tip, singeing the wall.

>In hindsight, you probably should not have been gripping the charged horn, as you are knocked back a good two feet by the force of the discharge.

>The horn, now fallen on the floor continues to release a copious amount of lightning.

>Twilight’s mouth hangs agape, and her eyes are firmly fixed on the eruptions of energy coming from the tiny pearl cone.

>You manage to stand and shut off the electrocardiogram.

>The horn dispels one last burst of plasma.

“I think my hypothesis has been confirmed,” you exhale smugly.

>You look to the singed spot on the wall.

>Twilight’s amazement has turned to a bit of anger again.

“I’ll clean that up.”

>“What in Celestia’s name are you, Anonymous?” Twilight remarks, a smile coming to her face.

“Sometimes, I don’t even know myself.”