Mad Science: Chapter 9

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Mad Science
By IceMan
Chapter 9
>The dim light of your watch illuminates your face.
>It is just past midnight.
>You cannot rest.
>Vile thoughts have been swirling in your mind like foul rainbow oil on the surface of the water in a harbor.
>While on the surface, your expression is completely blank, inside your thoughts churn like the relentless crash of waves.
>You have failed at something which you normally would never fail at: engineering the impossible.
>If you cannot build a flying machine in this universe, how is it even possible to build a dimensional transporter?
>This one question rolls from side to side across your frontal cortex.
>There is no silencing it.
>All that is left is hope and drive, and these are not satisfying.
>You roll over in your bed, rustling the covers.
>With a sigh, you finally drift off to sleep.
>Your dreams are tortured.
>Color, light, and indistinguishable forms flash.
>You hear a howling red wind roaring from nowhere.
>A dark figure stabs you with knife and you fall into a pipe of rushing water onto a grassy hill.
>The crimson moonlight streams through a pine tree, and you begin to run from an unseen magnetic force.
>It catches up to you and swallows you whole, two yellow sparks zapping you into oblivion.
>Then, you are standing in the cab of a steam train, twisting knobs and pulling levers as spurts of hot steam shoot from loose pipes.
>You peer out the side and see the bridge in front of you is twisting towards the iridescent pink sky.
>The engineer shouts incoherent words to you, and yet you understand that you need to stop the train.
“But I don’t know how!”
>Yes you do, just pull the red lever.
>But you don’t know how.
>You don’t know.
>With a gust of strong air, the illusion is brushed away and you stand in a familiar steel corridor, with thousands of floating doors.
>The circuit lines running along the walls and floor are now red, and a faint sound of shifting machinery can be heard, a continuous grinding pulse.
>An indigo unicorn-pegasus hybrid stands in front of you.
“I told you not to visit my mind ever again,” you state firmly. “My knowledge and secrets are the things I value most, and I do not appreciate anyone snooping around in my subconscious.”
>“I apologize,” Luna responds calmly. “But we have not spoken in weeks, and this was simply the easiest manner of reaching you.”
“Understandable. But not the most ideal. I know the mail system here is slow, but at least it allows me to keep what I want hidden, hidden.”
>Luna nods.
>You feel a sudden pressure and a bit of heat in the front of your skull.
“I sense another presence,” you mutter. “Who is with you?”
>“It is only my sister. I promise, we will try not to go sifting through your thoughts as I did last time,” Luna reassures.
“Fine,” you sigh stiffly. “I guess I do not really have a choice in this matter anyways.”
>In a flash of yellow-white light, the white Princess of the Sun enters a physical form.
>“Hello, Anonymous,” Celestia greets you.
>You merely nod in return.
>“We have much to discuss. It was unfortunate that we did not get a chance to speak at the Summer Sun Festival, but, obviously my duties as sovereign come before my personal desires.”
>Once again, you nod.
>Luna walks off towards a door labeled “Astronomy” and begins staring at it intently.
>“So, tell me. What is this I have been hearing about a song disparaging the nobility of Equestria?”
>You cannot help but chuckle.
“That was a dare by your student’s friends Applejack and Rainbow Dash. They told me they would leave me in peace and not, for example, drag me out to get drunk, if I sang a song for the posh crowd of the Canterlot Palace. I obliged and sang a little number from Earth that I thought was relevant to the situation.”
>Celestia giggles.
>“Well, I must say, you caused quite a disturbance,” she replies. “The Blueblood Family was berating me for weeks after that little incident. You made that boring old ceremony a little more interesting this year.”
“Well, thank you. I guess.”
>“There is one other thing I would like to discuss as well,” Celestia states after a brief pause. “I have been receiving regular letters from Twilight Sparkle about your . . . exploits, shall we say?”
>You cock your head to one side.
>Luna’s ears perk up, but she continues staring at the Astronomy door.
“And?”
>“Tell me about what is going on between the two of you. She seems quite concerned about your well-being, and especially your relationship with her friends and the rest of Ponyville.”
>You prepare your statement for a moment.
“Twilight is concerned that the ponies of this town might come to fear or despise me. She wants me to be successful and realizes that I need good relations to do that. However, on some occasions I have proven to be rather . . . cold.”
>You consider something for a moment.
>These two are inside your mind, and, assuming what Luna is doing staring at that door, can easily see whatever memories, knowledge, and lies you have told.
“I may have also been rather manipulative with her,” you reveal. “I do not like pulling strings through lies and quid pro quo, but I seem to be rather good at that, unfortunately. I need her trust to leave this world.”
>“What did you do?” Celestia asks.
>Luna turns away from the door.
“I dug myself a deep hole. After Rainbow Dash and Applejack dragged me to a bar, despite my protests, I gave a false apology. They didn’t care, but Twilight did. She berated me for it, and I, hungover from the festivities at the Summer Sun Festival and frankly tired of her constant lecturing on the ‘Magic of Friendship,’ lost my temper. I told her my feelings about friendship: that it is a waste of my time. I then realize that I needed her still. I talked to her again, and I only told her the first, lesser reason why I had become so enraged. She believed me.”
>Celestia frowns.
“Do with me as you will.”
>“I’m not angry,” Celestia responds. “There was nothing – no. Lying is never a correct course of action, but I understand why you did what you did.”
>You raise an eyebrow.
>“I can see everything in here, Anonymous. It is impossible not to empathize with someone when you can see their every thought and memory,” Celestia explains.
“I thought Luna said you would stay out of my thoughts! You lied to me!”
>“We can’t, is the truth,” Luna states. “Your mind is an open book in here, Anonymous. It is impossible for us not to see into your mind. Do not worry. We cannot remember everything we learn in here.”
>“You also remind me of an old friend of mine,” Celestia continues. “Starswirl the Bearded. Twilight is intelligent, but not innovative. She can master a skill easily, but needs to be taught it, and most likely will not see all the possibilities and connections between different aspects of magic or science unless taught. She has a great amount of ability, make no mistake, but it is focused in other areas. She is one of the most powerful users of magic to ever exist in Equestria. Starswirl was intelligent and innovative. He created incredible new ways of manipulating magic and dozens of new spells. He was also heartless, cold, and friendless, but didn’t seem to mind living alone. He became rather annoyed when people tried to interfere with his work.”
“What happened to him?” you ask.
>“He died, alone, of natural causes long ago,” Luna replies. “His last spell remains unsolved.”
“Perhaps that is the cost of being inventive. To live a life of solitude,” you muse.
>Celestia nods.
“Why is Twilight so obsessed with making me a friendlier person?” you inquire.
>“I guess that is my fault,” Celestia replies. “I forced Twilight to move to Ponyville to study the Magic of Friendship so as to revert my sister from her enraged form of Nightmare Moon. The Elements of Harmony can only be used by those united by the power of friendship. However, her running into a creature such as you was not something I could predict.”
>The circuit lines running along the floor glow blue.
“Perhaps we should discuss things more often,” you state with a smirk. “It is rather nice having someone who can see from my point of view in an instant, even if that does involve invading my most sacred privacy.”
>“I tried to stay out of the areas that seemed most personal,” Celestia consoles you. “But there was enough to see what drives you. Tell me, who is Brittany, and why does she appear so many times and with so much anger?”
“That is a story for another time,” you state firmly.
>Celestia’s eyes sparkle, and, with a rush of cold air and white and black smoke, the two alicorns disappear, followed by the inner machinations of your subconscious.
>She already knows your story; the question is if she will commit it to memory.
>You awaken the next morning with a lack of purpose that continues over the next few weeks of waiting.
>You are visited by no one, as usual, leaving you free to pour over books on magic, your curiosity on the subject still not satiated.
>Unfortunately, you are beginning to exhaust what few books you can find on the origin of magic and its abilities.
>You do not wish know what magic can do, but why and how, and books on this subject are quite scarce, at least in Twilight’s library.
>By playing around with magical batteries and generators, you are beginning to discover some more practical uses of this mysterious force.
>What is most confusing is the myriad number of forms magic can take.
>For example, you managed to produce a laser-like device by attaching a focusing lens to the energy-producing end of a magical generator.
>Unfortunately, the powering on of this device left a black scorch mark on the wall of your makeshift laboratory, a room originally designed probably for use as an extra bedroom.
>Electrical energy had been converted to light energy without, per se, a filament of any sort.
>It was as if the magical energy simply knew what it needed to do, which is quite curious.
>If magic is energy and energy alone, then it cannot have a conscious.
>Yet, this is what you have observed.
>Whatever the case, you now have a decent magic-powered arc welder to put the pieces of your dimensional transporter together.
>The magical “laser” proved quite effective at fusing two pieces of steel together with its azure beam.
>In addition, you have also constructed a small power drill for screwing in fasteners and purchased a few other tools for your use, such as a pump to remove air from the accelerator.
>Your limited supply of bits has been strained by these purchases, but you no longer need the money, except for the occasional meal.
>Finally, a few days ago, Filthy Rich’s crew came and installed lightning magic power to your house via several ports connected by wires to a larger cable, which in turn transported energy from the local hydroelectric plant.
>Everything is ready for construction to begin; all you need is the parts.
>Right on schedule, they arrive.
>Two days beforehand, Ingot sends you a letter.
>It reads:
>“Dear Anonymous,”
>“We have finished most of the parts and are shipping them to you now. I will be there to personally oversee the unloading process and to make sure everything is to your specifications. This has proved to be quite an interesting project, I must say. Simply some of the ways that we have had to produce these materials will advance Equestrian science by at least a decade. I am quite impressed. I will see you in two days.”
>“Sincerely,”
>“Ingot”
>On that cloudy, damp morning, a coal-dusted locomotive followed by several green passenger wagons and a few red boxcars pulls into Ponyville Station.
>Ingot steps out of the first car, wearing a black fancy raincoat over his suit and carrying a mahogany cane.
>“Well, Anonymous,” he greets. “We managed to do it. Some things, I’m not even sure how. These are technologies and uses of lightning magic that my scientists never even considered.”
>A few burly tan colored worker ponies begin unloading four large wooden crates.
“I can imagine. This device was cutting edge technology even on Earth,” you explain. “I am very impressed you managed to complete even just the parts. Equestria seems to be about 100 years behind Earth’s technology.”
>“Hm,” Ingot muses. “Well, my company is now going to be on the forefront of Equestrian inventing. If you have anything else locked up in that mind of yours that you are willing to share, please, feel free to mail it to me!”
>Ingot chuckles with this last statement and bangs his cane on the ground.
>“Move it, colts! We cannot keep Mr. Anonymous waiting much longer.”
>The workers quicken their pace, lifting the crates onto a large trolley.
>“In what direction is your house?” Ingot asks.
“To the west of here. Tell your men to follow me, and be quick with the parts, but not to the point that they are damaged. I have waited a long time for these parts, and I can wait a few minutes more if it means none are broken.”
>Once home and in your laboratory room, one of the workers uses a crowbar he brought with him to pry the boxes open.
>Stainless steel, packaged in soft cloth, flashes as the lid is lifted off.
“Place the parts over there,” you state, pointing to a large metal table. “Try and keep them off the floor and covered with the cloths. I can’t have any dust getting on the internal components.”
>Ingot stands aside, useless in this situation.
>“Everything looks to your design?” he asks.
“So far, yes. I’ll need to measure everything, but, so far, everything appears to be in order.”
>You pick up a pair of calipers off of another table and jot down the thickness of a few pieces of piping used for the inner accelerator.
>You quickly compare it to the width specified on your plans.
>It’s off by not even a millimeter from your specifications.
“Your smiths did very well with this. This is very precise,” you comment.
>“Well, thank you,” Ingot replies.
>After about ten minutes of unpacking and measuring, you determine that everything is to your design.
“Thank you very much for your assistance,” you tell Ingot. “I doubt we’ll meet again, but I’m glad to have helped Equestria in some way through this exercise.”
>“Of course, dear boy. This was quite a healthy transaction for both of our interests,” Ingot responds.
>The two of you exchange goodbyes, and Ingot heads back towards the train station with his stallions.
>Finally, construction can begin.
>You begin by assembling the base on which the transporter ring sits: a trapezoidal corrugated steel prism with two rings to hold the ring.
>It requires little fine-tuning or finesse with tools, but allows you to test the capabilities of your hand-constructed, magic-powered drill and spot welder.
>Unfortunately, you are interrupted by a certain purple unicorn knocking at the door.
“Hello, Twilight,” you state morosely.
>“I saw Ingot walking through the market. Did he bring your parts?” Twilight asks.
“Yes. He did.”
>“So you’re going to begin constructing your teleporter?”
>This time you only nod.
>“And how long will that take you?”
“A few days, give or take. The last time I built it, my time was split between my outside job as a research assistant, classes, and also figuring out problems as they came up. Two of those delays are nonexistent. I can work on this all day and my breaks will be short. I also had to completely design the transporter from scratch. The building itself only took a week, followed by another week of testing. Why do you ask?”
>“I’m just curious.”
“Curious because you’re wondering how much longer you have to fully convert me to your Cult of Friendship? Life is not a children’s story, Twilight. My visit to Equestria has been an unfortunate setback on a long road to success, not a life-changing experience, and I hope you realize that. I have tried to be pleasant to your friends, isn’t that enough?”
>Twilight sighs.
>“This seems to be the only discussion we ever have, Anonymous.”
>You consider what to tell her.
“I will tell you when it is finished so you can say goodbye. But, please. Do not interrupt me again. I need to be entirely concentrated on this. If something goes wrong, I am most likely stuck in this universe forever. And, in case you haven’t noticed how focused I have been on constructing this device, that fate does not appeal to me in the slightest. Now is not the time to bother me about friendship.”
>Twilight only sighs again.
>“Alright, Anonymous. I won’t come by again until you’re done,” she utters.
“Good. Thank you,” you state, then shut the door and return to work.
>By nightfall, the base is finished, and, after a brief dinner, you rest.
>The next morning, you begin assembling the central electron magnetic tube, a short process involving screwing together the heavy steel pipes.
>Each electron tube is a solid quarter-circle of stainless steel with a half-cylinder on each end.
>Two of the half-cylinders are parts of the collision chambers, with a small positively charged plate attracting the high-energy electrons to the focusing charged lenses.
>One of the others is an electron insertion chamber.
>The final one is a powerful electromagnet, which alternates from positive to negative charge based on the location of the electrons, detected by temperature and electrical sensors.
>You bolt the tubes together into a single ring.
>Then, you attach the final two parts of the main accelerator mechanism: the two focusing coils, pointing to the center of the ring, and the electron source, a thick tungsten filament in a glass domed cylinder.
>A heavy steel shell covers the particle accelerator, made of a sandwich of a bottom layer of plate aluminum, an inner layer of lead, and an outer layer of stainless steel.
>This prevents radiation, both ionizing and non-ionizing, from escaping from the accelerator.
>The shell is made of two parts: an inner and outer ring, with rings connecting the accelerator to the shell and holding it in place.
>Holes in the rings allow the electron source and coils to poke through.
>This structure allows for the accelerator to be easily repaired if something goes wrong.
>The outer ring also has a few access ports at the collision points so that the whole shell does not need to be disassembled if the problem is merely at one of those.
>You leave the outer ring off for now so as to wire the accelerator more easily tomorrow.
>Then the wiring process begins, by far the most difficult task.
>Every strand of insulated copper must be placed in exactly the right location, or the entire transporter would fail to work.
>The rest of the day is taken up simply by placing bundles of wire into their proper place inside the inner shell.
>A power supply wire is run to one of the magical energy outputs nearby, connecting to the electron source.
>More wiring connects to various dials and indicators, showing voltage, amperage, and measured temperature of various parts.
>You test each indicator twice before screwing it onto the transporter.
>Several dozen circuit breakers are also placed inside, which break should the power exceed functional limits.
>Once again, you rest.
>There is still more wiring to do tomorrow.
>At least a dozen more sensors need to be placed both inside and outside the accelerator, and each needs three wires, none of which can touch the inner accelerator lest the rubber insulation burn off from the extreme heat of the electrons whizzing by.
>It is tedious, mind-numbing work, and yet, if one step goes wrong, you will never see Earth again.
>Each wire has at least two redundant wires, and each sensor has a redundant sensor.
>Thus, the growing web of rubber and copper that is spiraling out of the accelerator.
>Once it comes time to install the activation lever, you triple-check it separate from the accelerator and again once it is attached, making sure the power is off as well.
>This time, there will be no accidental transporting because of loose levers.
>Finally, after over 20 hours of wiring, that step is finished.
>All that remains is to put the outer ring shell on, plus a few other sensors on the outside.
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>While Anonymous finishes the inner wiring of his transporter, you are currently in the process of writing a letter to Princess Celestia.
>You pull out a sharp black quill, stir it in an ink pot, and begin writing.
>“Dear Princess Celestia,”
>“For the past year and a half my studies have been focused on friendship. You have tested me on the Magic of Friendship on many occasions. I have watched it falter, such as when Discord briefly took control, and seen its power in the Elements of Harmony. But then Anonymous came. I was prepared to use everything I know about friendship to turn him to the light, and yet each of my efforts seems fruitless. He is completely unwilling to see friendship as something other than a waste of time. He seems to see people more as assets: the means to his goals. Is there something I am doing wrong? Is this your latest test, another mysterious being to test me and my friends on the Magic of Friendship?”
>“Ever your student,”
>“Twilight Sparkle”
“Spike! I need you to send a letter!”
>“Coming!”
>Your purple dragon assistant runs up the steps to your bedroom.
>You roll up the scroll and hand it to him.
>He quickly ignites it with his green flame.
>The parchment disappears in a flash of sparks.
>It is the next day.
>You are Anonymous.
>You carefully screw a few more voltage sensors into place on the outer ring.
>The dimensional transporter is almost finished.
>You have already run a preliminary test just to check the indicators and meters.
>Everything seems ready.
>After checking the outer voltmeters one last time, you lift off the outer ring shell and check the inner indicators again.
>All are fully functional.
>You then do a test on the outer sensors and receive the same result.
>You will check them again tomorrow morning, but for now, you rest.
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>Celestia has replied to your letter.
>“Dear Twilight,”
>“Friendship is a magical and mysterious thing, but some ponies express it in different ways than others. Anonymous may seem to be defying what makes ponies and creatures friendly, but, in truth, he simply has no way to react to somep0ny finally respecting him and his intellect. I recommend leaving him be. He does not appreciate overtures to suddenly change to a nicer personality. These things can only come with time and personal growth. Simply forcing him to change will not work. This was not a test. I had no hand in causing Anonymous to appear. You have not failed.”
>“Sincerely,”
>“Princess Celestia”
>You are Anonymous, and you are a genius.
>Despite all the odds, it’s finished.
>Your second dimensional transporter, built in a universe that defies logic and order, is finished.
>You have tested and quadruple-checked every last part.
>There is only one thing to do: a full run.
>Then, like a gust of frozen air from an open window, the doubt comes in.
>You have no idea where the portal will take you.
>You have no idea if the portal will even form.
>You are shooting into the dark, and, if you fail –
>Briefly, you consider telling Twilight and getting her to gather her friends.
>Then, logic kicks in.
>Twilight Sparkle will soon be a distant memory to be driven away with alcohol and a bit of psychiatric therapy.
>After flicking on your lightning magic source, you pull the red lever on the side of the transporter.
>The electron generator shines blue-white as the flashes of whirling particles spin through the rings faster and faster.
>The focusing coils begin to glow and spark.
>Quite possibly the largest smile you’ve ever smiled grows across your face.
>You are going home.
>Then, the glass surrounding the electron generator begins to burn red hot.
>You are too distracted by thoughts of home to notice.
>The glass begins to melt from the heat.
>The electrons are whirling faster and faster, but no more sparks are leaping from the focusing coils.
>What you would later theorize is that your system is made to handle electrons, which, up until that point, you had assumed were the same as whatever particle carries the force of magic.
>Too many electrons are being produced per each quanta of magic too quickly.
>Because the buildup is occurring inside the accelerator, rather than in the electronics, the circuit breakers aren’t breaking.
>So a cascade is building up.
>And finally, the device cascades.
>The electron generator fragments into a dozen pieces, flying in all directions.
>One nearly strikes your head; another smashes through a window.
>The focusing coils discharges, melting their structures with the sheer heat.
>In an instant, the whole transporter becomes irreparable.
“No,” you mutter, your face contorting.
“No. No! NO!” you snarl.
>There is no thought, only fury.
>You punch the shell of the transporter, bloodying your knuckles.
“No . . .” is all you can sob.
>What more is there to say?
>It has all come undone.

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Mad Science
By IceMan

Chapter 9

>The dim light of your watch illuminates your face.
>It is just past midnight.
>You cannot rest.
>Vile thoughts have been swirling in your mind like foul rainbow oil on the surface of the water in a harbor.
>While on the surface, your expression is completely blank, inside your thoughts churn like the relentless crash of waves.
>You have failed at something which you normally would never fail at: engineering the impossible.
>If you cannot build a flying machine in this universe, how is it even possible to build a dimensional transporter?
>This one question rolls from side to side across your frontal cortex.
>There is no silencing it.
>All that is left is hope and drive, and these are not satisfying.
>You roll over in your bed, rustling the covers.
>With a sigh, you finally drift off to sleep.
>Your dreams are tortured.
>Color, light, and indistinguishable forms flash.
>You hear a howling red wind roaring from nowhere.
>A dark figure stabs you with knife and you fall into a pipe of rushing water onto a grassy hill.
>The crimson moonlight streams through a pine tree, and you begin to run from an unseen magnetic force.
>It catches up to you and swallows you whole, two yellow sparks zapping you into oblivion.
>Then, you are standing in the cab of a steam train, twisting knobs and pulling levers as spurts of hot steam shoot from loose pipes.
>You peer out the side and see the bridge in front of you is twisting towards the iridescent pink sky.
>The engineer shouts incoherent words to you, and yet you understand that you need to stop the train.
“But I don’t know how!”
>Yes you do, just pull the red lever.
>But you don’t know how.
>You don’t know.
>With a gust of strong air, the illusion is brushed away and you stand in a familiar steel corridor, with thousands of floating doors.
>The circuit lines running along the walls and floor are now red, and a faint sound of shifting machinery can be heard, a continuous grinding pulse.
>An indigo unicorn-pegasus hybrid stands in front of you.
“I told you not to visit my mind ever again,” you state firmly. “My knowledge and secrets are the things I value most, and I do not appreciate anyone snooping around in my subconscious.”
>“I apologize,” Luna responds calmly. “But we have not spoken in weeks, and this was simply the easiest manner of reaching you.”
“Understandable. But not the most ideal. I know the mail system here is slow, but at least it allows me to keep what I want hidden, hidden.”
>Luna nods.
>You feel a sudden pressure and a bit of heat in the front of your skull.
“I sense another presence,” you mutter. “Who is with you?”
>“It is only my sister. I promise, we will try not to go sifting through your thoughts as I did last time,” Luna reassures.
“Fine,” you sigh stiffly. “I guess I do not really have a choice in this matter anyways.”
>In a flash of yellow-white light, the white Princess of the Sun enters a physical form.
>“Hello, Anonymous,” Celestia greets you.
>You merely nod in return.
>“We have much to discuss. It was unfortunate that we did not get a chance to speak at the Summer Sun Festival, but, obviously my duties as sovereign come before my personal desires.”
>Once again, you nod.
>Luna walks off towards a door labeled “Astronomy” and begins staring at it intently.
>“So, tell me. What is this I have been hearing about a song disparaging the nobility of Equestria?”
>You cannot help but chuckle.
“That was a dare by your student’s friends Applejack and Rainbow Dash. They told me they would leave me in peace and not, for example, drag me out to get drunk, if I sang a song for the posh crowd of the Canterlot Palace. I obliged and sang a little number from Earth that I thought was relevant to the situation.”
>Celestia giggles.
>“Well, I must say, you caused quite a disturbance,” she replies. “The Blueblood Family was berating me for weeks after that little incident. You made that boring old ceremony a little more interesting this year.”
“Well, thank you. I guess.”
>“There is one other thing I would like to discuss as well,” Celestia states after a brief pause. “I have been receiving regular letters from Twilight Sparkle about your . . . exploits, shall we say?”
>You cock your head to one side.
>Luna’s ears perk up, but she continues staring at the Astronomy door.
“And?”
>“Tell me about what is going on between the two of you. She seems quite concerned about your well-being, and especially your relationship with her friends and the rest of Ponyville.”
>You prepare your statement for a moment.
“Twilight is concerned that the ponies of this town might come to fear or despise me. She wants me to be successful and realizes that I need good relations to do that. However, on some occasions I have proven to be rather . . . cold.”
>You consider something for a moment.
>These two are inside your mind, and, assuming what Luna is doing staring at that door, can easily see whatever memories, knowledge, and lies you have told.
“I may have also been rather manipulative with her,” you reveal. “I do not like pulling strings through lies and quid pro quo, but I seem to be rather good at that, unfortunately. I need her trust to leave this world.”
>“What did you do?” Celestia asks.
>Luna turns away from the door.
“I dug myself a deep hole. After Rainbow Dash and Applejack dragged me to a bar, despite my protests, I gave a false apology. They didn’t care, but Twilight did. She berated me for it, and I, hungover from the festivities at the Summer Sun Festival and frankly tired of her constant lecturing on the ‘Magic of Friendship,’ lost my temper. I told her my feelings about friendship: that it is a waste of my time. I then realize that I needed her still. I talked to her again, and I only told her the first, lesser reason why I had become so enraged. She believed me.”
>Celestia frowns.
“Do with me as you will.”
>“I’m not angry,” Celestia responds. “There was nothing – no. Lying is never a correct course of action, but I understand why you did what you did.”
>You raise an eyebrow.
>“I can see everything in here, Anonymous. It is impossible not to empathize with someone when you can see their every thought and memory,” Celestia explains.
“I thought Luna said you would stay out of my thoughts! You lied to me!”
>“We can’t, is the truth,” Luna states. “Your mind is an open book in here, Anonymous. It is impossible for us not to see into your mind. Do not worry. We cannot remember everything we learn in here.”
>“You also remind me of an old friend of mine,” Celestia continues. “Starswirl the Bearded. Twilight is intelligent, but not innovative. She can master a skill easily, but needs to be taught it, and most likely will not see all the possibilities and connections between different aspects of magic or science unless taught. She has a great amount of ability, make no mistake, but it is focused in other areas. She is one of the most powerful users of magic to ever exist in Equestria. Starswirl was intelligent and innovative. He created incredible new ways of manipulating magic and dozens of new spells. He was also heartless, cold, and friendless, but didn’t seem to mind living alone. He became rather annoyed when people tried to interfere with his work.” 
 “What happened to him?” you ask.
>“He died, alone, of natural causes long ago,” Luna replies. “His last spell remains unsolved.” 
“Perhaps that is the cost of being inventive. To live a life of solitude,” you muse.
>Celestia nods.
 “Why is Twilight so obsessed with making me a friendlier person?” you inquire.
>“I guess that is my fault,” Celestia replies. “I forced Twilight to move to Ponyville to study the Magic of Friendship so as to revert my sister from her enraged form of Nightmare Moon. The Elements of Harmony can only be used by those united by the power of friendship. However, her running into a creature such as you was not something I could predict.”
>The circuit lines running along the floor glow blue.
“Perhaps we should discuss things more often,” you state with a smirk. “It is rather nice having someone who can see from my point of view in an instant, even if that does involve invading my most sacred privacy.”
>“I tried to stay out of the areas that seemed most personal,” Celestia consoles you. “But there was enough to see what drives you. Tell me, who is Brittany, and why does she appear so many times and with so much anger?”
“That is a story for another time,” you state firmly.
>Celestia’s eyes sparkle, and, with a rush of cold air and white and black smoke, the two alicorns disappear, followed by the inner machinations of your subconscious.
>She already knows your story; the question is if she will commit it to memory.
>You awaken the next morning with a lack of purpose that continues over the next few weeks of waiting.
>You are visited by no one, as usual, leaving you free to pour over books on magic, your curiosity on the subject still not satiated.
>Unfortunately, you are beginning to exhaust what few books you can find on the origin of magic and its abilities.
>You do not wish know what magic can do, but why and how, and books on this subject are quite scarce, at least in Twilight’s library.
>By playing around with magical batteries and generators, you are beginning to discover some more practical uses of this mysterious force.
>What is most confusing is the myriad number of forms magic can take.
>For example, you managed to produce a laser-like device by attaching a focusing lens to the energy-producing end of a magical generator.
>Unfortunately, the powering on of this device left a black scorch mark on the wall of your makeshift laboratory, a room originally designed probably for use as an extra bedroom.
>Electrical energy had been converted to light energy without, per se, a filament of any sort.
>It was as if the magical energy simply knew what it needed to do, which is quite curious.
>If magic is energy and energy alone, then it cannot have a conscious.
>Yet, this is what you have observed.
>Whatever the case, you now have a decent magic-powered arc welder to put the pieces of your dimensional transporter together.
>The magical “laser” proved quite effective at fusing two pieces of steel together with its azure beam.
>In addition, you have also constructed a small power drill for screwing in fasteners and purchased a few other tools for your use, such as a pump to remove air from the accelerator.
>Your limited supply of bits has been strained by these purchases, but you no longer need the money, except for the occasional meal.
>Finally, a few days ago, Filthy Rich’s crew came and installed lightning magic power to your house via several ports connected by wires to a larger cable, which in turn transported energy from the local hydroelectric plant.
>Everything is ready for construction to begin; all you need is the parts.
>Right on schedule, they arrive.
>Two days beforehand, Ingot sends you a letter.
>It reads:
>“Dear Anonymous,”
>“We have finished most of the parts and are shipping them to you now. I will be there to personally oversee the unloading process and to make sure everything is to your specifications. This has proved to be quite an interesting project, I must say. Simply some of the ways that we have had to produce these materials will advance Equestrian science by at least a decade. I am quite impressed. I will see you in two days.”
>“Sincerely,”
>“Ingot”
>On that cloudy, damp morning, a coal-dusted locomotive followed by several green passenger wagons and a few red boxcars pulls into Ponyville Station.
>Ingot steps out of the first car, wearing a black fancy raincoat over his suit and carrying a mahogany cane.
>“Well, Anonymous,” he greets. “We managed to do it. Some things, I’m not even sure how. These are technologies and uses of lightning magic that my scientists never even considered.”
>A few burly tan colored worker ponies begin unloading four large wooden crates.
“I can imagine. This device was cutting edge technology even on Earth,” you explain. “I am very impressed you managed to complete even just the parts. Equestria seems to be about 100 years behind Earth’s technology.”
>“Hm,” Ingot muses. “Well, my company is now going to be on the forefront of Equestrian inventing. If you have anything else locked up in that mind of yours that you are willing to share, please, feel free to mail it to me!”
>Ingot chuckles with this last statement and bangs his cane on the ground.
>“Move it, colts! We cannot keep Mr. Anonymous waiting much longer.”
>The workers quicken their pace, lifting the crates onto a large trolley.
>“In what direction is your house?” Ingot asks.
“To the west of here. Tell your men to follow me, and be quick with the parts, but not to the point that they are damaged. I have waited a long time for these parts, and I can wait a few minutes more if it means none are broken.”
>Once home and in your laboratory room, one of the workers uses a crowbar he brought with him to pry the boxes open.
>Stainless steel, packaged in soft cloth, flashes as the lid is lifted off.
“Place the parts over there,” you state, pointing to a large metal table. “Try and keep them off the floor and covered with the cloths. I can’t have any dust getting on the internal components.”
>Ingot stands aside, useless in this situation.
>“Everything looks to your design?” he asks.
“So far, yes. I’ll need to measure everything, but, so far, everything appears to be in order.”
>You pick up a pair of calipers off of another table and jot down the thickness of a few pieces of piping used for the inner accelerator.
>You quickly compare it to the width specified on your plans.
>It’s off by not even a millimeter from your specifications.
“Your smiths did very well with this. This is very precise,” you comment.
>“Well, thank you,” Ingot replies.
>After about ten minutes of unpacking and measuring, you determine that everything is to your design.
“Thank you very much for your assistance,” you tell Ingot. “I doubt we’ll meet again, but I’m glad to have helped Equestria in some way through this exercise.”
>“Of course, dear boy. This was quite a healthy transaction for both of our interests,” Ingot responds.
>The two of you exchange goodbyes, and Ingot heads back towards the train station with his stallions.
>Finally, construction can begin.
>You begin by assembling the base on which the transporter ring sits: a trapezoidal corrugated steel prism with two rings to hold the ring.
>It requires little fine-tuning or finesse with tools, but allows you to test the capabilities of your hand-constructed, magic-powered drill and spot welder.
>Unfortunately, you are interrupted by a certain purple unicorn knocking at the door.
“Hello, Twilight,” you state morosely.
>“I saw Ingot walking through the market. Did he bring your parts?” Twilight asks.
“Yes. He did.”
>“So you’re going to begin constructing your teleporter?”   
>This time you only nod.
>“And how long will that take you?” 
“A few days, give or take. The last time I built it, my time was split between my outside job as a research assistant, classes, and also figuring out problems as they came up. Two of those delays are nonexistent. I can work on this all day and my breaks will be short. I also had to completely design the transporter from scratch. The building itself only took a week, followed by another week of testing. Why do you ask?”
>“I’m just curious.”
“Curious because you’re wondering how much longer you have to fully convert me to your Cult of Friendship? Life is not a children’s story, Twilight. My visit to Equestria has been an unfortunate setback on a long road to success, not a life-changing experience, and I hope you realize that. I have tried to be pleasant to your friends, isn’t that enough?”
>Twilight sighs.
>“This seems to be the only discussion we ever have, Anonymous.”
>You consider what to tell her.
“I will tell you when it is finished so you can say goodbye. But, please. Do not interrupt me again. I need to be entirely concentrated on this. If something goes wrong, I am most likely stuck in this universe forever. And, in case you haven’t noticed how focused I have been on constructing this device, that fate does not appeal to me in the slightest. Now is not the time to bother me about friendship.”
>Twilight only sighs again.
>“Alright, Anonymous. I won’t come by again until you’re done,” she utters.
“Good. Thank you,” you state, then shut the door and return to work.
>By nightfall, the base is finished, and, after a brief dinner, you rest.
>The next morning, you begin assembling the central electron magnetic tube, a short process involving screwing together the heavy steel pipes.
>Each electron tube is a solid quarter-circle of stainless steel with a half-cylinder on each end.
>Two of the half-cylinders are parts of the collision chambers, with a small positively charged plate attracting the high-energy electrons to the focusing charged lenses.
>One of the others is an electron insertion chamber.
>The final one is a powerful electromagnet, which alternates from positive to negative charge based on the location of the electrons, detected by temperature and electrical sensors.
>You bolt the tubes together into a single ring.
>Then, you attach the final two parts of the main accelerator mechanism: the two focusing coils, pointing to the center of the ring, and the electron source, a thick tungsten filament in a glass domed cylinder.
>A heavy steel shell covers the particle accelerator, made of a sandwich of a bottom layer of plate aluminum, an inner layer of lead, and an outer layer of stainless steel.
>This prevents radiation, both ionizing and non-ionizing, from escaping from the accelerator.
>The shell is made of two parts: an inner and outer ring, with rings connecting the accelerator to the shell and holding it in place.
>Holes in the rings allow the electron source and coils to poke through.
>This structure allows for the accelerator to be easily repaired if something goes wrong.
>The outer ring also has a few access ports at the collision points so that the whole shell does not need to be disassembled if the problem is merely at one of those.
>You leave the outer ring off for now so as to wire the accelerator more easily tomorrow.
>Then the wiring process begins, by far the most difficult task.
>Every strand of insulated copper must be placed in exactly the right location, or the entire transporter would fail to work.
>The rest of the day is taken up simply by placing bundles of wire into their proper place inside the inner shell.
>A power supply wire is run to one of the magical energy outputs nearby, connecting to the electron source.
>More wiring connects to various dials and indicators, showing voltage, amperage, and measured temperature of various parts.
>You test each indicator twice before screwing it onto the transporter.
>Several dozen circuit breakers are also placed inside, which break should the power exceed functional limits.
>Once again, you rest.
>There is still more wiring to do tomorrow.
>At least a dozen more sensors need to be placed both inside and outside the accelerator, and each needs three wires, none of which can touch the inner accelerator lest the rubber insulation burn off from the extreme heat of the electrons whizzing by. 
>It is tedious, mind-numbing work, and yet, if one step goes wrong, you will never see Earth again.
>Each wire has at least two redundant wires, and each sensor has a redundant sensor.
>Thus, the growing web of rubber and copper that is spiraling out of the accelerator.
>Once it comes time to install the activation lever, you triple-check it separate from the accelerator and again once it is attached, making sure the power is off as well.
>This time, there will be no accidental transporting because of loose levers. 
>Finally, after over 20 hours of wiring, that step is finished.
>All that remains is to put the outer ring shell on, plus a few other sensors on the outside.

>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>While Anonymous finishes the inner wiring of his transporter, you are currently in the process of writing a letter to Princess Celestia.
>You pull out a sharp black quill, stir it in an ink pot, and begin writing.
>“Dear Princess Celestia,”
>“For the past year and a half my studies have been focused on friendship. You have tested me on the Magic of Friendship on many occasions. I have watched it falter, such as when Discord briefly took control, and seen its power in the Elements of Harmony. But then Anonymous came. I was prepared to use everything I know about friendship to turn him to the light, and yet each of my efforts seems fruitless. He is completely unwilling to see friendship as something other than a waste of time. He seems to see people more as assets: the means to his goals. Is there something I am doing wrong? Is this your latest test, another mysterious being to test me and my friends on the Magic of Friendship?”
>“Ever your student,”
>“Twilight Sparkle”
“Spike! I need you to send a letter!”
>“Coming!”
>Your purple dragon assistant runs up the steps to your bedroom.
>You roll up the scroll and hand it to him.
>He quickly ignites it with his green flame.
>The parchment disappears in a flash of sparks.

>It is the next day.
>You are Anonymous.
>You carefully screw a few more voltage sensors into place on the outer ring.
>The dimensional transporter is almost finished.
>You have already run a preliminary test just to check the indicators and meters.
>Everything seems ready.
>After checking the outer voltmeters one last time, you lift off the outer ring shell and check the inner indicators again.
>All are fully functional.
>You then do a test on the outer sensors and receive the same result.
>You will check them again tomorrow morning, but for now, you rest.

>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>Celestia has replied to your letter.
>“Dear Twilight,”
>“Friendship is a magical and mysterious thing, but some ponies express it in different ways than others. Anonymous may seem to be defying what makes ponies and creatures friendly, but, in truth, he simply has no way to react to somep0ny finally respecting him and his intellect. I recommend leaving him be. He does not appreciate overtures to suddenly change to a nicer personality. These things can only come with time and personal growth. Simply forcing him to change will not work. This was not a test. I had no hand in causing Anonymous to appear. You have not failed.”
>“Sincerely,”
>“Princess Celestia”

>You are Anonymous, and you are a genius.
>Despite all the odds, it’s finished.
>Your second dimensional transporter, built in a universe that defies logic and order, is finished.
>You have tested and quadruple-checked every last part.
>There is only one thing to do: a full run.
>Then, like a gust of frozen air from an open window, the doubt comes in.
>You have no idea where the portal will take you.
>You have no idea if the portal will even form.
>You are shooting into the dark, and, if you fail –
>Briefly, you consider telling Twilight and getting her to gather her friends.
>Then, logic kicks in.
>Twilight Sparkle will soon be a distant memory to be driven away with alcohol and a bit of psychiatric therapy.
>After flicking on your lightning magic source, you pull the red lever on the side of the transporter.
>The electron generator shines blue-white as the flashes of whirling particles spin through the rings faster and faster.
>The focusing coils begin to glow and spark.
>Quite possibly the largest smile you’ve ever smiled grows across your face.
>You are going home.
>Then, the glass surrounding the electron generator begins to burn red hot.
>You are too distracted by thoughts of home to notice.
>The glass begins to melt from the heat.
>The electrons are whirling faster and faster, but no more sparks are leaping from the focusing coils.
>What you would later theorize is that your system is made to handle electrons, which, up until that point, you had assumed were the same as whatever particle carries the force of magic.
>Too many electrons are being produced per each quanta of magic too quickly.
>Because the buildup is occurring inside the accelerator, rather than in the electronics, the circuit breakers aren’t breaking.
>So a cascade is building up.
>And finally, the device cascades.
>The electron generator fragments into a dozen pieces, flying in all directions.
>One nearly strikes your head; another smashes through a window.
>The focusing coils discharges, melting their structures with the sheer heat.
>In an instant, the whole transporter becomes irreparable.
“No,” you mutter, your face contorting.
“No. No! NO!” you snarl.
>There is no thought, only fury.
>You punch the shell of the transporter, bloodying your knuckles.
“No . . .” is all you can sob. 
>What more is there to say?
>It has all come undone.

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