Mad Science: Chapter 7

Mad Science

 

Chapter 7

By IceMan

 

>The next day, you wander over towards Twilight’s tree as the sun has just crept over the horizon.

>“Hello, Anonymous!” Twilight greets you cheerily as she opens the door.

“Here is your book back,” you state.

>You pull “Mysteries of Magic” out from under your arm.

>Twilight carefully picks it up with her magic and levitates it over to one of the bookshelves.

>“Thank you. So would you like another book?” she inquires.

“Not exactly. Can I examine your laboratory equipment?”

>“Sure. Come inside.”

>Quickly glancing around the library, you notice what appears to be a small golden telephone under a glass case.

>That will be quite useful later.

>You amble down into the shadowy basement.

>“What do you need to see?”

>You stare at the two shiny medical instruments in front of you.

“Twilight, how does that electroencephalograph work?”

>“Huh?”

“I am building 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 and after humans had an understanding of electromagnetism. 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 works, probably.”

 >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 angrily.

“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; I’m doing this for a contract.”

>“Well, okay. I mean, I haven’t used these things in about a year, so I guess it’s not a problem,” Twilight agrees. “Just don’t be so demanding all the time. You can’t always just have what you want.”

“Alright, alright,” you accede.

>“Just tell me when you’re done,” 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.

>“Why do you need to build this radio anyways?”

“I’m building it for one of the businessmen around here. He’s offered me a handsome price for it.”

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

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

>“Oh! Of course. Here,” Twilight exclaims, 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. 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 electrical current, I think. How do thing like these work on Earth?”

“Conductivity differentials. Wiring. 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.

>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.”

>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 awesome!”

“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 get this off to Filthy Rich and –”

>“Wait, you’re selling this to Filthy Rich?” Twilight interjects.

“Is that a problem? He made the offer to me; I can’t exactly renege on his deal.”

>“But he’s the richest stallion in town! Couldn’t you at least give it to someone who really needs the money?”

“Business is business. He promised me 4500 bits for this invention. You will receive 500 of that; it was for my supplies.”

>“I don’t want any of his money!” Twilight rebukes. “You should see how he and his family treat people around here. He’s an absolute bully to all the merchants around here. He’s always trying to get them to sell their businesses to him. And, if they don’t say yes, he bankrupts them by setting up one of his stores right next to theirs.”

>You merely shrug.

“Business is business. That’s how the capitalist system works.”

>“But it’s not fair!” Twilight debates.

“I never said capitalism was fair. I need the money. He has it. Logic dictates that I should take his offer. That is how the system functions.”

>“Quit your arguing!” Spike suddenly hollers from upstairs. “I’m trying to nap, and I don’t want to hear you two!”

“Why is it that you have some sort of moral objection to everything I do?” you inquire after a moment of silence.

>“Because I just want you to be nice to people. And not look like a jerk,” Twilight answers. “When you first got here, all the ponies wanted to run you out of town. There are a lot of dangerous creatures in this world: shapeshifters, monsters, and powerful magical beings. And your immediate reaction to being here was . . . less than ideal. If people thought that you were a ruthless, mindless being of pure anger and malice - ”

“I can handle my own reputation.”

>“I just want you to have friends, Anonymous.”

>You ponder this for a moment. The relationship you have rebuilt is on the verge of collapse again.

“And why do you care about that?”

>“Because you remind me of myself from a while ago,” Twilight explicates. “I was a lot like you. I was alone, obsessed with being the best possible student. I had talent, but it was different than yours. Your knowledge seems innate; mine was learned. If I didn’t practice my magic enough, it would slip through the cracks.”

“And what happened?”

>“I came to Ponyville. I learned that friends are valuable things.”

>Though one thousand argumentative thoughts are pressuring against the front of your skull, urging you to release them, you realize the possible consequences of them.

>You still need Twilight as a resource.

>You cannot risk losing that.

>So you simply nod.

“I’ll think about what you said,” you declare. “However, I still need the money.”

>With that, you stomp upstairs and out of the library, tenderly handling your radio transmitter and receiver.

>After asking a pony on the street for directions to the Rich residence, you head north

>The houses along the street suddenly become a bit grander, made of brick and stone rather than painted wood.

>Separated from the rest at the end of the road is a brick mansion with an open wrought iron gate.

>You lope right through and bang your fist on the front door.

>A grey, aging butler pony (at least, that’s what you assume he is from the tuxedo) opens it.

“My name is Anonymous. I have a business arrangement with Mr. Rich.”

>The butler merely blinks and maintains his haughty glower.

>He turns his head to the right and calmly declares, “Sir, the human is here to discuss some sort of business arrangement.”

>“Let him in,” Filthy Rich responds.

>The tapping of hooves on the marble floor announces your contractors approach as you step through the entryway.

>The foyer contains a mammoth staircase with carved oak banisters and a glittering crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

>You scowl for a second before regaining your composure.

>You never liked people who swam in their opulence.

>“You’re finished already?” Filthy Rich exclaims. “That was quick. If my employees were this efficient, I wouldn’t need half of them.”

“Yes, the radio is complete and fully functional. Would you like me to show you how it works?”

>You pull out the ugly little contraption, rapidly checking to make sure that none of the parts have moved.

“Now of course, this is more a demonstration model than anything. I’m sure with a bit of magical and technological finesse, this could be refined into a suitable product. But this should give you a good example of how to build a similar device. I’ll also draw up some schematics for you once I’ve finished my demonstration. Now, if you could take the receiving end upstairs, I will show you how this works.”

>“Alright,” Filthy Rich agrees.

>You hand him the device, which he levitates with his magic before trotting upstairs.

>Once he is out of sight, you plug the transmitter in and state into the telephone receiver, “Mary had a little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went, that lamb was sure to go.”

>Filthy Rich races back down stairs.

>“That was amazing! How does this thing work?”

“Be careful with that. It’s not totally secure,” you demand.

>“Sorry, sorry,” Filthy apologizes.

“This device produces a certain frequency of radio signal from an electric current and converts sound waves into radio waves. The other picks up those radio signals and turns them back into sound,” you explain.

>“Wow,” Filthy Rich cries.

>The explanation clearly went over his head.

>“Well, let me get a few sacks of bits ready. How quick can you make those schematics?”

“Fairly.”

>“Good. Butler, get me 4500 bits out from the vault, and a few sheets of paper and pencil for Mr. Anonymous,” Filthy orders his servant.

>The tuxedoed pony races off with a surprising amount of agility for his age.

>He brings the paper and pencil first, and you quickly draw the lines, circles, and dashes of the two circuit diagrams.

>You label them, certain that the pony icons for capacitors, transistors, and switches are not the same as those on Earth.

“There, that should do it!” you state, handing over the two sheets of white paper.

>“Excellent. Now, is there some way that I can get other signals to come out of this? Different frequencies?”

“Yes. Each transmitter can only produce one frequency, but a receiver can theoretically accept an infinite number. It’s just a matter of changing some of its resistors.”

>“I’ll have my engineers work on that. Here’s your money, like I promised,” Filthy remarks, handing you the weightless sack of jingling coins.

>You spill them out and begin counting them.

>“There’s 4500 in there. If there aren’t come back and tell me.”

>You scoop the pile of gold back into the sack.

“Pleasure doing business,” you acknowledge as you walk out the door.

>“Same here. If you have any other ideas, you know who to contact.”

>The butler slams the door shut.

>Now all you have to do is wait.

>It will be one more month before you can begin construction, and that’s if you’re lucky.

>You need something to keep you occupied, and you think you have just the thing.

>It’s time you really delved into how magic works.

>You walk back to Twilight’s library in a cheery mood.

>“You’re back?” Twilight greets as you knock on the door.

>You only nod.

>“Well, I was just about to leave. Do you mind coming with me?”

“Not at all. Let us walk. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you specifically.”

>The two of you stroll towards the marketplace.

>“How did your sale go?”

“Perfectly. I now have enough to build my transporter for certain. Do you still want the 500 bits in return for the mess I made of your laboratory?”

>“I get a monthly stipend from Princess Celestia as her student. I don’t really need the money.”

“Very well then.”

>“So, what was it you wanted to ask me about?” Twilight inquires.

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

>“Mysteries of Magic didn’t answer all your questions?”

>You shake your head.

“It 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 stand selling vegetables, examines a carrot by telekinetically lifting it, then passes the shopkeeper a few gold coins from the money sack on her back.

“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 here,” Twilight rebukes.

>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.”