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Mad Science: Chapter 9

By: -IceMan- on Dec 23rd, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 42.63 KB | hits: 94 | expires: Never

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Mad Science
By IceMan
Chapter 9
>It has been a fortunately uneventful three days.
>You have sent the money off to Ingot with a brief letter explaining how you obtained it and asking for any details on the progress of the production of your parts.
>However, you have not received a response yet.
>You have spent the time reading another book, “A Brief Discourse on Lightning,” from Twilight’s library, picked up when you left after your experiment with electricity.
>You remain without further progress on that front.
>The book, true to its name, was only sixty pages long and contained little more than a discussion of weather patterns.
>Overall, it was unhelpful.
>Your current hypothesis is that the unicorn horn acts as an amplifier for neurochemical electrical energy.
>Neurons connecting to the horn send electrical charges into it.
>These charges can then be amplified and directed to magnetize objects, create energy blasts, light fires, and any other necessary tasks.
>While certainly an odd evolutionary path, you can certainly see some benefits to pre-civilized Equestria, mainly as a defense against predators.
>“Magic” seems to be a potent force, capable of near-limitless potential; you are interested in finding those limits.
>You have another month before you need to focus on a much more important project.
>Alas, further experimentation is limited by the lack of specimens.
>There does not seem to be a high death rate in Equestria, or the deceased are quickly swept away before any inquisitive minds can dissect them.
>If there have been any studies into pony anatomy, the research is not commonly available.
>Considering Twilight’s reaction to experimenting with unicorn horns, it is probably strongly discouraged by Equestrian culture.
>Unless a unicorn happens to break its skull open in a horrendous accident, you are not going to get a chance to explore further into your theories surrounding magic.
>Disappointing, but discovering the physical laws of a universe which you will soon be leaving are not exactly a priority.
>The nagging doubt that you may not succeed floats through your mind, but you quickly push it aside.
>No time for those thoughts.
>You decide to leave Twilight’s tree and go for a walk through the forest to clear your head.
>As you crunch through the damp leaves, a rainbow streaks across the sky.
>The pegasi have caused a downpour over the last two days, ending a few weeks of parching warmth.
>You pause, hands in the pockets of your jeans, and watch it slice through the cobalt heavens.
>Abruptly, a strong gust kicks up, scattering the drier leaves like plastic bags on a dirty elementary school playground.
>The streak fades and twists slightly, the small azure dot of the pegasus loses velocity and control over her direction.
>Rainbow then begins to lose altitude.
>The rustle of leaves and the flight of a flock of jabbering black birds in the distance signal Rainbow’s crash, and you race off in the direction of the crash site.
>She’s probably injured.
>She needs help.
>Judging by the trajectory of her fall she won’t fall near anyone other than you.
>You’re going to have to be the one to provide it.
>It’s like an angel and a devil are sitting on your shoulders.
>Help her, the angel says.
>It’s the right thing to do.
>It will make Twilight happy.
>You realize if you help Rainbow Dash, she will be forever in your debt, the devil remarks.
>She will not question your actions or feel that you lied to Twilight, and she will no longer bother you.
>You will be in complete control.
>Both your ego and your superego are, of course, speaking the truth.
>Furthermore, they are truths you’d like to hear.
>There is no reason not to help Rainbow Dash.
>It’s simple logic with a potent outcome.
>Twilight will have no reason not to trust you ever again.
>All you have to do is get Rainbow Dash to a hospital, an incredibly simple task.
>You know some basic first aid from a course you took a few years ago.
>Let us hope that you remember it.
>Out of breath, you reach Rainbow’s injured form.
>Large bumps on her right wing and leg indicate a severe bone fracture.
>A thick broken branch underneath her indicates at least one cause of the injuries.
“Stay calm,” you reassure her. “I’m here to help. I know a little first aid.”
>Rainbow looks at you skeptically.
>“Go get Twilight, or anyone else. I don’t want your help.”
“If you think this is some kind of trick, know that providing first aid is one of the few standards I always honor,” you add. “And it’s not like you have a much better option. Unless you want to lay there in agonizing pain for the next twenty minutes.”
>“No. Really, I’m fine; I’ll just get up and walk out of here.”
>You raise an eyebrow.
>Rainbow Dash attempts to get up, but abruptly halts and drops back to the ground with a soft crunch on the dried leaves.
>“Okay, maybe I could – urgh – use a little help.”
>You don’t have a proper first aid kit, so you need to improvise.
>You search for two sticks to use as splints and rip off a bit of cloth from your t-shirt to use as rope.
>You have two other shirts back at home; it’s of little concern to you if one is ruined.
>If it really becomes a problem, you can always pay to get it sewed.
“I’m going to have to splint your leg and wing,” you explain. “I apologize in advance if this hurts. Though, for some odd reason, I imagine this happens fairly often.”
>Rainbow barely smirks.
>You carefully remove the branch out from under her.
>It is wet, warm, and crimson with blood.
>Despite your caution, she still groans in pain.
>There is probably serious bruising as well, but there is nothing you can do about that.
>You lay one of the sticks up against the damaged humerus of Rainbow’s wing, and gently, yet tightly, wrap the t-shirt shreds around it.
>You repeat this process with the fragmented part of her leg.
>Now the problem is moving her to the hospital.
>No, hold on, you should not move a person with a bone fracture.
>It could cause more damage.
>On the other hand, for this to be successful, you need to be the rescuer.
“I’m going to try and lift you,” you state. “This will probably hurt, but it’s the best way to get you out of here. My other option would be to drag you there, which is obviously . . . less than ideal.”
>You are also not quite certain if you can lift a pony in the first place, but that is beside the point.
>Once you get to town or if someone sees you on the road, they will lend you a hand.
>Stooping down, you wrap your arms around Rainbow Dash’s frame and strenuously lift her up.
>While lighter than you expected, it is reaching the limits of your minimal strength.
>Rainbow grunts, her face contorting.
>You trudge west towards the edge of the forest.
>Near the boundary between the open plains and the foliage, you stop.
“I need to set you down for a bit,” you inform her. “Hold on.”
>You gingerly set the cyan pegasus on the ground and stretch your arms.
“Okay, up again,” you order after the pain in your triceps has subsided.
>As a mantra to keep pushing forward, you count squares of two.
>Two, four, eight, sixteen . . .
>You spot the park at the edge of Ponyville.
>1024, 2048, 4096, 8192 . . .
>You reach the dirt path leading west towards town.
>Your arms feel like they might pop off, white hot flames ripping through your muscles.
>65536
>Two ponies, one orange, one pink, both known, rush up to you.
>Their squawking is garbled; shooting stars pop out in your blurred, watering eyes.
>All that you can concentrate on is removing the agony that you are suffering in your arms.
>What little conscious remains in control inside your mind manages to force your arms to smoothly set the burden you are carrying on the brown gravel, rather than drop it like a sack of bricks.
>Applejack shouts something at you.
>You sit down on a nearby bench, and the world snaps back into focus.
>“Anon!” Applejack yells.
“What?” you respond, gulping air like a marathon runner.
>“Lift her up so we can get her to the hospital!”
>You shove yourself off the bench and hoist the now-unconscious Rainbow Dash over Applejack’s back.
“Hold her steady, Anonymous,” AJ orders. “I don’t want her falling off.”
>You secure the injured blue mare to Applejack’s back with your right hand as she begins to trot towards the hospital.
>Pinkie Pie bounces along beside the two of you.
“You seem oddly cheery even though your friend is injured,” you remark once you notice this.
>“Gotta keep everypony’s spirits up somehow. They say laughter’s the best medicine anyways!” Pinkie replies.
>“This happens at least once every few months. Dash tries some new-fangled stunt and ends up breakin’ a wing,” Applejack declares.
>You frown.
“I’m no medical expert, but that can’t be good in the long term,” you warn.
>“Well, we’ve got some amazing magical healers up at the Ponyville Hospital. They can fix almost anythin’. Rainbow might be out for a few weeks, but they’ll get her back up in a jiff,” Applejack rebukes.
“That didn’t really assuage my concerns,” you mutter, opening the door to the hospital.
>“We’ve got an urgent patient,” Applejack tells the desk receptionist.
>She blearily looks up from her magazine.
>“Ugh, not again. I’ll get Doctor Stable,” she says.
>After a few minutes, a tan-colored stallion with the image of an electrocardiogram display monitor on his flank walks in along with two aides.
>He takes one brief look at Rainbow Dash and rubs his forehead with his hoof.
>“This is the third time this year,” he mutters, barely audibly to his two companions. “Get her to the OR, and prep for anesthesia and bone setting.”
>The two aides take Rainbow Dash off Applejack’s back and down the corridor out of the foyer.
>“What happened to her this time?” Doctor Stable asks, pulling out a clipboard from his labcoat.
>Applejack and Pinkie Pie both look at you.
“She lost control when she was buffeted by a strong gust of wind and crashed in the forest. Broke a wing and a leg, probably from either impact with the ground or a branch,” you answer.
>“Would that explain the twigs on her broken leg and wing?”
“No. I splinted them to prevent further damage.”
>“That is by far the worst splint job I’ve ever seen in fifteen years of working,” he chuckles.
>“You didn’t even splint along the joint. You might as well have just done nothing,” he berates. “And why in Celestia’s name did you bring her here? You easily could have just run over here and got help. Do you know how dangerous it is to move a pony with a bone fracture?”
“Yes. I do. I made my judgment to move her here lest she bleed out,” you rebuke, your cheeks pale pink.
“Perhaps I was wrong to do that, but perhaps I saved her life from blood less or any of the horrors of that forest.”
>Or, you needed to make it look like you did.
>“Well, let’s hope you didn’t do too much damage. That mare’s already been here three times in the past six months. She cannot keep doing this if she expects to ever fly again.”
>You nod.
>“Well, it’ll be a few hours before she’s up and about again,” the doctor explains. “Come back then.”
“Very well,” you state as a goodbye, beginning to walk towards the door.
>Pinkie Pie and Applejack follow close behind you.
>Once out the door, Applejack states, “Anonymous. We need to ask you something.”
“Hm?”
>“Did you not treat Rainbow right on purpose?”
>You blink twice and frown.
“Applejack, I might not seem to be the nicest fellow, or, well, I certainly haven’t shown myself to be, but I am not malicious, nor insane. While I was hurt by your actions, I am not vengeful. I would have no benefit from seeing Rainbow Dash permanently disabled, nor would I take pleasure in it.”
>“Pinkie Promise?” the eponymous mare inquires. “Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”
“Pinkie Promise. Cross my heart and hope to . . . fly,” you respond firmly, and turn to head home.
>Pinkie Pie bounces off towards . . . wherever she goes, but Applejack follows behind you.
>“Anonymous, uh . . . could you wait up, there’s somethin’ else I’d like to talk to you about . . .”
>You stop.
>“I’d . . . uh . . . just like to apologize for not acceptin’ your help yesterday and . . . well, now I guess for not trustin’ you. And thank you for the fertilizer, now that I think about it.”
“Oh. Well, apology accepted.”
>“I mean, whatcha said was right. You’re not mean, you’re just different. And, I mean, Twilight’s come around to likin’ you so . . . . Are things changing for the better?”
>A cold breeze whips the drying leaves into the air.
“I guess so.”
>“See ya around, Anonymous,” Applejack says, tipping her Stetson hat.
“Yeah.”
>Now you play the waiting game, and watch as events unfold.
>All that matters is the words you say, and words can be manipulated, the little devil says.
>Fortunately for your conscience, your second promise in the past few days was not false.
>After a few hours on your own, reviewing your designs for any mistakes for the fortieth time and pondering, Pinkie Pie knocks on the door.
>“Rainbow is awake now,” she tells you cheerily. “She wants to see you. Probably for saving her life and all that you know. I mean, if I had someone save my-”
>You put a finger to her lips.
"Come on. Let's just go."
>You walk back to the hospital, Pinkie gabbing in your ear the entire way, and are directed to the second floor, fourth door on the right.
>The hallways are stark, chilling, and sanitized all the way through, the light flowing through the windows becoming almost lifeless.
>The room on the second floor, fourth door to the right is similarly bleak, with hideous teal curtains separating stainless steel beds with lumpy pale yellow mattresses sitting on top like clouds of noxious sulfur.
“Hello everyone. Good afternoon, Rainbow Dash,” you greet as you enter.
“I see they set and cast your injuries very quickly. That’s good. ”
>Rainbow Dash’s circle of technicolor friends is gathered around her.
>“Yeah, I guess . . .” Rainbow responds.
>She looks around.
>“Uh, I just wanted to, ya know, thank you for getting me out of the forest.”
>Twilight and the others smile at you.
“I do what is necessary.”
>“Also, I wanted to ask you something,” Rainbow states.
“Go ahead.”
>“You see, I really don’t like not being able to fly when I’m injured. I want some way to fly without having to use my wings. So I thought, could you build me a flying machine? Twilight tells me you can practically build anything.”
>You rub your unshaven chin.
“I’m not certain.”
>“Why’s that?” Rainbow asks.
“I have no idea where I’d get the materials for it, or the money. I’ve already sent what I earned from Filthy Rich off to the ironworks producing my parts.”
>“We’ll all chip in,” Applejack suggests suddenly. “If it makes sure Rainbow isn’t so down when she’s hurt, then we’ll do anythin’ to help.”
“No, that’s completely unnecessary. I don’t even know if this even possible, even with an unlimited amount of money. Humans on Earth have been trying to create self-powered flight for centuries, and, to do it successfully, you need a gasoline-powered motor at minimum. That’s not something I have the money, tools, materials, and time to build and test. Nor do I have any idea where to get the oil to power it. I am not certain anything smaller is adaptable to pony morphology, and, furthermore, those designs have never been proven to work.”
>“Could you at least try something?” Rainbow pleads.
>You pause and think for a bit.
>Time consumption is not a problem; you have plenty of time.
>What matters is cost to acquire materials, and if the device would even function.
>While you have improved the relationship between yourself and Dash slightly, you’re not sure how she would react to a device you built failing on her, sending her plummeting to her doom.
>Pinkie Pie’s high pitched shrill suddenly cuts off your thought process.
>“Anonymous!” she cries. “Nothing is impossible with a bit of determination. Why, I built a flying machine for myself a few months back. It broke. But I could show you how to build it again!”
“I have 1400 bits,” you state. “Would that cover the cost of construction?”
“If we’re lucky, we won’t need to pay for anything,” Pinkie replies. “The town dump has a bunch of neat parts lying about that we can use.”
“Very well. Show me your design, and I’ll see if I can build it.”
>Pinkie Pie walks out of the hospital, gabbing your ear off about the parties she’s thrown over the past week, the people she’s talked to today, and virtually anything else that comes into her hyperactive mind.
>You simply nod occasionally as the flood of words barrages you.
>“So, what have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen you since the Summer Sun Festival.” Pinkie asks, stemming the tide of her personal stories.
“Things. Testing theories. Acquiring parts.”
>“And has that been going well?”
“Fairly. I’m still physically no closer to building my transporter than I was when I first got here, but all the pieces are in place. I have none of the pieces in my possession, but, as soon as they come, I can start construction.”
>“Well, you have to start somewhere,” Pinkie replies as you walk towards Sugarcube Corner.
“You live here?” you inquire.
>“Yeah,” she replies as you walk up the stairs and enter her bedroom. “The Cakes give me room and board as part of me working for them.”
>She opens and rifles through a large blue wooden chest containing various party gags and prank devices, such as a rubber chicken, several dozen balloons, and a whoopee cushion, until she pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.
>“Here!” she exclaims, muffled through her teeth, which are currently grasped around the schematic.
>You tug the paper out from her mouth and examine it.
“This couldn’t possibly work,” you state after inspecting the design for a few moments. “There’s no way this could produce enough thrust to lift . . . well, anything, let alone a full-grown pony.”
>“Sure it can!” Pinkie debates. “It lifted me a few months ago, until that mean old griffin Gilda decided to throw me out of the sky.”
“There’s more problems than that. Rainbow Dash’s leg is broken. She wouldn’t be able to power the bicycle chain that turns the propeller.”
>Pinkie frowns.
>“The doctors probably won’t want her to use any device we build for her until she’s fully recovered, so that doesn’t matter.”
“You may be right, but I don’t want to take any risks. If she is too weak to lift the machine, then we have not done our job. I need a self-powered device.”
>Pinkie scratches her cotton candy like mane.
>“Well . . . I did design a flying harness for Rainbow’s turtle. It’s powered by magic. Could you work with that?”
“I could. Wait, you said it was powered by magic?”
>“Yeah! We power a lot of stuff on magical batteries and generators. The wizards up in Canterlot fill them with magical energy.”
“Right, I know. How many things in Equestria are powered by magic?”
>“Lots! Practically everything is.”
“Interesting.”
>Pinkie keeps running her hoof through her fluff, suddenly more vigorously.
>“The thing is, I know this design will work. I’ve built it before!”
“Then you build your design. I build mine. I don’t really need help anyways. We then have two flying machines, so if one fails, we still have a backup.”
>“I like the way you think, Anonymous. Alright, you build your design, I build mine.”
“Good.”
>Of course, Pinkie’s will be the one to fail.
>Unless her machine works on pure willpower, there is no way it could possibly function.
>Not having a means of entry into Rainbow Dash’s house, you head back to the hospital and visit the second floor, fourth room on the right.
>Her reaction to your request to experiment is less than favorable.
>“You want to do what to my tortoise?” Rainbow Dash shouts, prompting a shushing from the nurse.
“I am not going to do anything to Tank. I need to take apart his flying device to see how it works. Then I can build you a device that will help you fly, even with an injured wing.”
>“Well . . . hm. How could I forget about Tank’s helicopter pack?”
“I assure you, it will be worth it. If I can get this to work, then you will never have to worry about not being able to fly again.”
>“Alright. You’ll also need a pegasus to get into my house. I don’t think humans can walk on clouds.”
“No, they can’t,” you say. “I also need directions.”
>Rainbow Dash gives you them, and you head off on your way.
>There is only one pegasus that you know that you feel would even consider helping you: Fluttershy.
>You head to her cottage on the edge of the forest.
>A few animals come out and greet you as you walk up the gravel path to her doorway, but you shoo them away.
>You lightly rap on the round plank door.
>As you stand there waiting, what sounds like two sentient creatures arguing rumbles through the door, followed by some muffled bangs and the clanging of a pot.
>After a brief moment of scuttling, the door opens a hair.
“Fluttershy. We need to discuss something,” you state.
>“This really isn’t a good time come back later sorry!” Fluttershy rushes out
>The door slams shut, and the din resumes.
>You knock on it again.
“I apologize for disturbing your animals a few weeks ago. But now I require your assistance in a vital matter. Know that by helping me, you are really helping Rainbow Dash.”
>The door opens fully, revealing the diminutive yellow pegasus.
>“Um . . . . Hold on a minute.”
“What’s going on in –”
>The door slams shut again.
>A another minute of arguing inside passes before it re-opens.
>“Alright, let’s go,” Fluttershy agrees, her voice barely louder than the breeze. “What do you need?”
“I need you to go into Rainbow Dash’s house and the flying device for me,” you explain. “She has already permitted me to get it. I just need a pegasus to retrieve the device for me.”
>“Okay. I guess can do that . . . .”
>She turns inside and suddenly shouts, “Behave while I’m gone! This isn’t over.”
“Good. Follow me then, although I guess you know the way.”
>You crunch about half a kilometer along the gravel path, Fluttershy pattering along beside you.
>You can always do two good deeds in one day, you realize, and you could have even greater stability by at least partially repairing the wrongs you have committed against the pink-maned equine walking beside you.
“I would like to apologize again for disturbing your animals a few weeks back. I really should have remembered to tell you I had other ponies coming over to observe my fireworks. I wasn’t thinking entirely clearly.”
>Fluttershy mumbles something in response.
“Hm?”
>“It’s okay,” she clarifies.
>Note to self: try again later.
>You look ahead and continue walking, taking a slight left turn.
>A floating palace of lazily curved clouds with rainbow waterfalls looms ahead.
>Fluttershy floats up to the door.
>You do not see her enter from the angle you are standing at.
>A few minutes of silence pass, until Fluttershy walks out, carrying the miniscule flight device.
>It is a helmet-like metal machine with four curved steel armatures with a small opening near what appear to be helicopter blades.
>A strap across two of the armatures allows the pack to be put on.
>You snatch the device away from the Fluttershy and begin to examine it.
>Fluttershy squeaks in fear.
“Sorry, sorry.”
>The blades are connected to a gearshaft that descends into the opening.
>A small grey button on the side activates the helicopter pack, the blades almost whacking your head as they spin up.
>You reactively shut the machine off, but not before quickly noticing the yellow aura emanating from the gearshaft.
>It’s powered by magic.
>You begin to aimlessly walk away, completely entranced in inspecting the piece of technology.
>Fluttershy quietly follows you.
“Well, thanks for your help. See you around,” you state.
>“Okay,” she whispers, and ambles back towards her house.
>Continuing to study the helicopter pack, you discover that its frame is made of the inside of an old mining helmet.
>The magical generator probably powered the headlamp, but its gearshaft has been repurposed for flight.
>The helicopter blades are made from an old fan armature.
>The device has no maneuvering fins, so you assume it is controlled by shifting the user’s weight.
>Though you would expect a device made of such ramshackle scavenged parts to be crude aesthetically, a thin coating of black paint and some clever craftsmanship hides the seams in the parts.
>The design is simple, but effective, like any good design should be.
>Re-designing the pack in a larger form should not be difficult, nor will acquiring the parts.
>Your plan in mind is to enlarge the helicopter back so that it works as a saddle.
>Pinkie Pie told you that you could find most of the parts at the junkyard, so that is where you shall go.
>You would like to find a saddle, a magical generator, and an oversized fan.
>With those three items, a few screws and other fasteners, and some good old ingenuity and problem solving, you should be able to make an effective flying machine.
>Aeronautical physics have apparently been thrown out the window in this universe, but you probably should have realized that long ago when pegasi with undersized wings can fly at the speed of sound.
>If there is one thing this universe lacks, it is consistency.
>You trudge off towards the scrapheap, asking directions from a passing earth pony.
>Pinkie Pie is already searching through the piles of rubbish once you arrive.
>“Hey Anonymous!” she shouts to you from a pile of crushed cardboard boxes and paper plates.
>The odor of the dump suddenly assaults your nostrils with a foul mixture of rust, ammonia, and moist wood.
“Smells awful around here . . .” you mutter.
>“It’s the scent of discovery, Anonymous!” Pinkie replies, having apparently heard you.
>You cover your nose and mouth with your hand.
>“There’s all sorts of cool stuff around here! I found a cereal box from two years ago just today,” Pinkie yells down to you, sliding down the wet pile of paper goods carrying a bright red box with the picture of a dog stating “They’re deeeeelicious!” on it.
>Her ever-present smile grows a few inches.
“That’s great,” you reply.
>You begin searching the piles of refuse for the items you need to obtain.
“Have you seen a giant fan blade, a saddle, or a magical generator anywhere around here?” you ask.
>Pinkie only shakes her head.
>You walk around one of the piles, lifting up larger pieces of trash in case the things you seek are under them.
>“Anonymous!” Pinkie hollers from afar. “I think I found a few generators!”
>You jog over to Pinkie’s location.
>She is standing by a box of magical generators, labeled “To Be Disposed of Safely.”
>A few of them are spinning out of control, the gearshafts sparking like tinder in a campfire.
>You grab a medium-sized generator from the box and turn it off.
>One item down, two to go.
>You actually find something better than a saddle oxidizing: an old brass backplate for a pegasus guard.
>It will strap perfectly around any pegasus, and even has two slits for wings.
>And, surprisingly, you find not one, but two oversized fans.
>Upon your questioning where they might have come from, Pinkie merely shrugs.
>You’re beyond the stage of questioning the logic of this universe.
>You swap out the older magical generator for the one inside one of the fans, as that one is A, compatible with the fan blade and B, will provide enough torque to spin the blade.
>A quick test proves that the fan is still somewhat functional.
>Now you just need to fuse the armor plate to the generator, and the flying machine will be finished.
>You march out of the scrap heap towards Twilight’s tree, pulling the parts on a discarded dolly you find in the heaps.
>“Well, bye, Anonymous! See you when the device is done!” Pinkie calls from her perch on a mound of rusting iron tools.
“Goodbye,” you reply over your shoulder.
>It is a brief walk back to town.
>Walking into the marketplace, you catch Twilight ambling with her dragon comrade through the marketplace on one of her usual supply runs.
>Spike is carrying several bags filled with herbs and other strange alchemical ingredients.
“Twilight!” you cry out to her, catching her attention.
>“Hello, Anonymous. What do you need?” she asks.
“I need you to weld something for me with your magic,” you reply. “It’s for Rainbow’s flying machine.
>She raises an eyebrow.
>“Weld?”
“Fuse together by melting the metal around something.”
“Oh. I think I can do that,” Twilight says. “C’mon, Spike, we’re heading back to the lab.”
>“But what about my crystal cupcake?” Spike protests.
>“We’ll get it later. Anonymous needs my help with something, and I need those herbs stored as soon as possible.”
>“Fine,” Spike relents.
>You hand him thirty bits from your pocket.
“Here. Go get yourself something,” you state. “I’ll take the bags.”
>You need the money, but you need respect more.
>You place the sacks on your dolly.
>Twilight smiles at you.
>“Well. Thanks, Anonymous,” Spike responds. "Crystal deliciousness, here I come!"
>He runs off towards Sugarcube Corner giggling.
“Alright, let’s go,” you tell Twilight.
>On the way, you explain your design process and how you acquired parts for the flying machine, Twilight asking clarification and refining occasionally.
>“Well, Rainbow will sure be happy if it works,” Twilight says as you walk through the door to her tree-library. “I personally worry for her. She’s been really reckless as of late.”
“Hm,” is all you can say.
>“You’ve really been taking my advice lately, Anonymous, haven’t you?” Twilight asks as you walk down into the basement. “Helping Dash get out of the forest, then offering to build her a flying machine. And then you gave Spike a bit of your own money out of the goodness of your heart. You’re really learning the Magic of Friendship.”
>“Magic of Friendship?”
>You stop on the staircase for a second and stare at the purple unicorn in front of you.
>It’s one thing that you’re trying to be nice to people but . . . .
>That concept seems a bit saccharine to you.
>“What?” she asks, hearing your footsteps cease.
“Nothing,” you reply after that second of thought. “Just pondering something.”
>“Okay. Well, if there's something you need to tell me, just say it, alright?”
"No, there's nothing I need to tell you. Nothing at all."
>Once in the basement, you grab a cloth and rub the coating of grime off of your parts as best you can and flake off as much of the tin oxide from the armor plate as you can.
>You then set the plate on the floor and place the fan assembly on top, roughly in the center.
“Alright, Twilight, here’s what I need you to do. I need you to aim a stream of energy at the exact point of contact between the armor plate and that magical generator. Understood?”
>“Understood,” Twilight answers, charging her horn.
>A blast of purple-white magic strikes the seam between the armor plate and generator.
>The metal glows red and up through the heat spectrum until it reaches white.
>The parts begin to fuse together, an amalgam of tin, iron, and copper forming at the junction.
>Twilight draws a circle of molten metal around the generator, sealing the plate and the motor together.
>As soon as the circle is complete, she makes another pass, then shuts her magic off.
“Perfect,” you state. “Now we wait a bit to let the metal fully cool. Then I’ll need your assistance again.”
>Twilight nods.
>You wait five minutes.
>Twilight goes off and begins placing her ingredients in various drawers and cabinets.
“What are those plants for?” you ask.
>“Alchemical ingredients. I need them for magical potions and poultices that I make.”
“Curious. What exactly can those do?”
>“They’re mostly remedies and a few enhancement potions.”
"Interesting."
>You may need to find out more about those.
>Having something to enhance your strength would be a boon to future projects.
>You gingerly touch the warped metal weld.
>It is completely cool.
“Alright, here’s what I need done. Hold the device down with telekinesis just enough to make sure it doesn’t fly through the roof.” you tell Twilight.
“Okay. Just say when,” she replies, charging her horn.
>You walk over to the magical generator/motor.
>There are three power settings on the generator; you set it to the highest one.
>The fan blades spin up.
>The machine begins to hover.
>Twilight catches it with her telekinesis and holds it just enough that it is rising under its own power, but not so much that it is held down.
“Excellent,” you approve.
>The device reaches about half a meter away from the ceiling, but Twilight holds it in place.
“Alright, lower it down,” you command.
>Twilight forces the machine to the floor.
>You cautiously duck under the wings and flick the generator off.
>You dust your hands off.
>You repeat this a few more times just to be sure that the device works.
“Functions exactly as it should. If that motor can lift that armor plate, I think it should be able to lift Dash. Then she’ll control it by shifting her body weight.” you state confidently at the end of the last test. “Now all we have to do is wait for Rainbow to be released from the hospital. In the meantime, I need a lot more books. I go through every one you give me far too fast.”
>You smirk, and Twilight returns the expression.
>“Alright, c’mon, I’ll give you whatever you’re interested in and some of my favorites.”
>Another four days pass until Rainbow Dash is released.
>You find the box of old magical generators again and study them.
>They apparently work on stored magical potential energy, provided by a long-lasting enchantment.
>Having picked up a few books on alchemy, you begin to study the effects of various Equestrian herbs.
>Though definitely more numerous in size and biological features, with some approaching sentience, Equestrian flora has a large number of biochemical properties that are clearly being used to great effect in medicine.
>As they day of the final test arrives, you add a few extra safety features to the flying machine, such as a grabbable string that controls the rotors.
>Because the device is designed like a helicopter, it will slowly fall because of autorotation if the rotor shuts off.
>During powered flight, height can be set to three settings based on the power given to the generator.
>Finally, the day arrives.
>Pinkie Pie, Twilight, and you meet her in the Ponyville Park along with both flying machines.
>Though no longer bed-bound, Rainbow is now in a wheelchair.
>Pinkie is hovering on her Air Bike, while yours is set on the dolly you found at the junkyard.
>You can only stare at Pinkie’s contraption.
“That . . . that's not possible!” you shout, suddenly losing your temper. “I looked over those designs. They were completely against every law of physics, never mind the rules of engineering. It couldn’t have possibly worked!”
>“Like I told you, anything’s possible with a little magic, Anonymous. And a bit of positivity and ingenuity, of course.”
>“Anonymous, calm down,” Twilight says.
“No! Positivity and ingenuity doesn’t make things possible. Well, ingenuity maybe, but you don’t get what you want in this world just by being positive! You’ve got to put the sweat of your brow into it. Hard work, solves problems, not magic!”
>“Wow, Anonymous, you’re getting so mad about this, you must really be positive that your invention’s gonna work!” Pinkie says, oblivious to your anger.
“No! Yours was supposed to fail. It was supposed to explode into a million tiny pieces!”
>“Anonymous, come on. Enough. Calm down,” Twilight says, rubbing your arm with her hoof. “I hear Rainbow Dash coming.”
>You take a deep breath; the color washes from your face.
>“Hey, guys,” Rainbow greets as she rolls up to you.
>She spots the flying machines and grins.
>“I’m ready to fly again.”
>“Good!” Pinkie cheers.
“Unfortunately, it looks like you won’t be using Pinkie’s right now, Rainbow,” you state. “Not with that broken leg.
>“No. The doctors recommended that I don’t even try yours, Anonymous, in case something goes wrong.”
>You frown.
“I’m fairly certain the device is perfectly safe,” you reassure. “I’ve tested it ten times over the last few days and five times just before you got here. That being said, I would watch out for the fan blades, though they should be positioned far enough so that they shouldn’t hit you. We’ve also brought you a helmet, just in case.”
>“Alright,” Rainbow agrees. “Let’s give it a shot.”
>You pick the Helipack Mark I (as you have named it) off of the dolly.
“The pack is self-powered,” you explain as you strap Rainbow in. “You control direction by shifting your bodyweight, up for forward, down for backward, et cetera. You control power with this string. There are three settings for three different heights. You should reach a height of about ten meters at full power. Pull it all the way forward to turn it off. You’ll fall slowly because the rotor autorotates. We want you to start you at the lowest setting and progressively get higher for safety.”
>“I’m just gonna go to full power, Anonymous,” Rainbow orders. “We know it works.”
“Are you sure? I just want things to be safe.”
>“Full power. I wanna fly.”
“Very well,” you concede.
>You hand Rainbow the helmet, which she quickly puts on, and she pulls the switch on the side to the highest power setting.
>The blades spin up to their full speed, and Rainbow begins to hover and slowly ascend.
“If anything goes wrong, teleport her out of there,” you tell Twilight.
>Rainbow reaches a height of about a half meter, but ascends no further.
>“Hey, Anonymous? Didn’t you say this thing was supposed to get me ‘ten meters’ off the ground?” Rainbow inquires.
“Yes.”
>“And it’s on the highest power setting?”
“Yes.”
>“So why am I hovering, not flying?”
“Because there is not enough lift to lift you, unfortunately,” you explain, your cheeks turning bright crimson with embarrassment. “As I thought.”
>However, Pinkie is not taking this moment to make a dig at you.
>“Then why didn’t you build something stronger?” Rainbow asks.
“Because there isn’t a way for me to produce something more powerful, unless I wanted it built from scratch, which I didn’t have time to do. I wouldn’t want to be working on it by the time the parts arrived.”
>Rainbow frowns.
“Pull her down, Twilight. Let’s get the pack off of her.”
>Twilight pulls Rainbow down from what little altitude she gained.
>“Pinkie!” Rainbow shouts at the pink mare. “Let’s see how high your bike can get.”
>Pinkie increases the vigor of her pedalling, and lifts a solid twelve meters up, circling around.
>“Look, Anonymous,” Twilight begins. “You didn’t perform enough tests. Pinkie Pie or I would have been willing to stand in for Rainbow in the tests in my lab. Plus, you could have gone with a lighter connector to Rainbow’s back, like a saddle, and got the parts custom-made instead of just taking them from the junkyard. I know you don’t make stuff from junk often. Pinkie does. You get things made exactly as you need them. Why didn’t you do that here?”
>You have nothing to say.
>Rage.
>Failure.
>Irony.
>Confusion.
>These words describe all the things that you are feeling right now, and yet you show nothing on your face.
>You watch the ludicrous device circle through the sky, wanting to shoot it down with a surface-to-air missile.
>You turn to Pinkie Pie as she lands.
“It just doesn’t make sense. I looked over your design, Pinkie. There’s no way it could have worked. It defied every law of physics. Even I was only about 30% sure my design would even be able to lift its own weight. I assumed if it could do that, it could lift a little more.”
>“Sometimes the first step to getting something to work is believing it can, Anonymous.”
“No, it’s not. If that were true, then the . . .”
>You wrack your brain for an example Pinkie Pie would understand.
“Then a soufflé would always come out right just because you want it to.”
>Pinkie giggles and snorts.
>“Anonymous, quit being so negative. Look on the bright side for once,” she states, riding off on her flying contraption.
>Twilight nods to you.
>“You’ll do better next time,” she reassures, walking towards town.
>Rainbow glares at you and begins to roll off.
>No, you’re not going to take that today.
“Listen, I told you that this was a very improbable project. I did it because I had the time and because I had just enough interest to see if I could make it work. It didn’t. Life goes on.”
>“Anonymous, flying is life to me,” Rainbow argues. “I need to fly, it’s like breathing for me. And now I’m stuck on the ground again for another six weeks.”
“Then you need to learn to stop being so reckless. I saw what you were doing up there. You were flying at near supersonic speeds. How much time did you think you would have if you lost control? You’re lucky you’re not dead! The same thing with my helipack. If we had lost control on the first try and couldn’t get you back down, you would be hurt again. And I’d never hear the end of it from you and your friends because it would be my invention that caused you to never fly again.”
>Rainbow snorts.
>“Why the hay do you have to be so smart, Anonymous?” she asks, angrily wheeling towards town in her wheelchair.
>You kick the dirt and walk home.
>Failure is not something that you accept lightly.
>However, the whole exercise was somewhat pointless.
>You should have just trusted your gut and told Rainbow no.
>With a bit more time, perhaps the device could have worked, but that is irrelevant now.
>Doubt in the success of your quantum transporter creeps in, a silent terror.
>Except, this time, it is even stronger.
>If you fail at that, everything is lost.
>You are doing more than the improbable, as with the flying machine, but the impossible.
>While normally breaking the impossible sounds like an amazing idea to you, the risk of absolute failure in this case chills you to your core.
>You cannot stay in this chaotic, nonsensical universe until you die.
>And you’re going to get out of it by any means necessary.

create a new version of this paste RAW Paste Data

Mad Science
By IceMan

Chapter 9

>It has been a fortunately uneventful three days.
>You have sent the money off to Ingot with a brief letter explaining how you obtained it and asking for any details on the progress of the production of your parts.
>However, you have not received a response yet.
>You have spent the time reading another book, “A Brief Discourse on Lightning,” from Twilight’s library, picked up when you left after your experiment with electricity.
>You remain without further progress on that front.
>The book, true to its name, was only sixty pages long and contained little more than a discussion of weather patterns.
>Overall, it was unhelpful.
>Your current hypothesis is that the unicorn horn acts as an amplifier for neurochemical electrical energy.
>Neurons connecting to the horn send electrical charges into it.
>These charges can then be amplified and directed to magnetize objects, create energy blasts, light fires, and any other necessary tasks.
>While certainly an odd evolutionary path, you can certainly see some benefits to pre-civilized Equestria, mainly as a defense against predators.
>“Magic” seems to be a potent force, capable of near-limitless potential; you are interested in finding those limits.
>You have another month before you need to focus on a much more important project.
>Alas, further experimentation is limited by the lack of specimens.
>There does not seem to be a high death rate in Equestria, or the deceased are quickly swept away before any inquisitive minds can dissect them.
>If there have been any studies into pony anatomy, the research is not commonly available.
>Considering Twilight’s reaction to experimenting with unicorn horns, it is probably strongly discouraged by Equestrian culture.
>Unless a unicorn happens to break its skull open in a horrendous accident, you are not going to get a chance to explore further into your theories surrounding magic.
>Disappointing, but discovering the physical laws of a universe which you will soon be leaving are not exactly a priority.
>The nagging doubt that you may not succeed floats through your mind, but you quickly push it aside.
>No time for those thoughts.
>You decide to leave Twilight’s tree and go for a walk through the forest to clear your head.
>As you crunch through the damp leaves, a rainbow streaks across the sky.
>The pegasi have caused a downpour over the last two days, ending a few weeks of parching warmth.
>You pause, hands in the pockets of your jeans, and watch it slice through the cobalt heavens.
>Abruptly, a strong gust kicks up, scattering the drier leaves like plastic bags on a dirty elementary school playground.
>The streak fades and twists slightly, the small azure dot of the pegasus loses velocity and control over her direction.
>Rainbow then begins to lose altitude.
>The rustle of leaves and the flight of a flock of jabbering black birds in the distance signal Rainbow’s crash, and you race off in the direction of the crash site.
>She’s probably injured.
>She needs help.
>Judging by the trajectory of her fall she won’t fall near anyone other than you.
>You’re going to have to be the one to provide it.
>It’s like an angel and a devil are sitting on your shoulders.
>Help her, the angel says.
>It’s the right thing to do.
>It will make Twilight happy.
>You realize if you help Rainbow Dash, she will be forever in your debt, the devil remarks.
>She will not question your actions or feel that you lied to Twilight, and she will no longer bother you.
>You will be in complete control.
>Both your ego and your superego are, of course, speaking the truth.
>Furthermore, they are truths you’d like to hear.
>There is no reason not to help Rainbow Dash.
>It’s simple logic with a potent outcome.
>Twilight will have no reason not to trust you ever again.
>All you have to do is get Rainbow Dash to a hospital, an incredibly simple task.
>You know some basic first aid from a course you took a few years ago.
>Let us hope that you remember it.
>Out of breath, you reach Rainbow’s injured form.
>Large bumps on her right wing and leg indicate a severe bone fracture.
>A thick broken branch underneath her indicates at least one cause of the injuries.
“Stay calm,” you reassure her. “I’m here to help. I know a little first aid.” 
>Rainbow looks at you skeptically.
>“Go get Twilight, or anyone else. I don’t want your help.” 
“If you think this is some kind of trick, know that providing first aid is one of the few standards I always honor,” you add. “And it’s not like you have a much better option. Unless you want to lay there in agonizing pain for the next twenty minutes.”
>“No. Really, I’m fine; I’ll just get up and walk out of here.”
>You raise an eyebrow. 
>Rainbow Dash attempts to get up, but abruptly halts and drops back to the ground with a soft crunch on the dried leaves.
>“Okay, maybe I could – urgh – use a little help.”
>You don’t have a proper first aid kit, so you need to improvise.
>You search for two sticks to use as splints and rip off a bit of cloth from your t-shirt to use as rope.
>You have two other shirts back at home; it’s of little concern to you if one is ruined.
>If it really becomes a problem, you can always pay to get it sewed.
“I’m going to have to splint your leg and wing,” you explain. “I apologize in advance if this hurts. Though, for some odd reason, I imagine this happens fairly often.”
>Rainbow barely smirks.
>You carefully remove the branch out from under her.
>It is wet, warm, and crimson with blood. 
>Despite your caution, she still groans in pain.
>There is probably serious bruising as well, but there is nothing you can do about that.
>You lay one of the sticks up against the damaged humerus of Rainbow’s wing, and gently, yet tightly, wrap the t-shirt shreds around it.
>You repeat this process with the fragmented part of her leg.
>Now the problem is moving her to the hospital.
>No, hold on, you should not move a person with a bone fracture. 
>It could cause more damage.
>On the other hand, for this to be successful, you need to be the rescuer.
“I’m going to try and lift you,” you state. “This will probably hurt, but it’s the best way to get you out of here. My other option would be to drag you there, which is obviously . . . less than ideal.”
>You are also not quite certain if you can lift a pony in the first place, but that is beside the point.
>Once you get to town or if someone sees you on the road, they will lend you a hand.
>Stooping down, you wrap your arms around Rainbow Dash’s frame and strenuously lift her up.
>While lighter than you expected, it is reaching the limits of your minimal strength.
>Rainbow grunts, her face contorting.
>You trudge west towards the edge of the forest.
>Near the boundary between the open plains and the foliage, you stop.
“I need to set you down for a bit,” you inform her. “Hold on.”
>You gingerly set the cyan pegasus on the ground and stretch your arms.
“Okay, up again,” you order after the pain in your triceps has subsided.
>As a mantra to keep pushing forward, you count squares of two.
>Two, four, eight, sixteen . . .
>You spot the park at the edge of Ponyville.
>1024, 2048, 4096, 8192 . . .
>You reach the dirt path leading west towards town.
>Your arms feel like they might pop off, white hot flames ripping through your muscles.
>65536
>Two ponies, one orange, one pink, both known, rush up to you.
>Their squawking is garbled; shooting stars pop out in your blurred, watering eyes.
>All that you can concentrate on is removing the agony that you are suffering in your arms.
>What little conscious remains in control inside your mind manages to force your arms to smoothly set the burden you are carrying on the brown gravel, rather than drop it like a sack of bricks.
>Applejack shouts something at you.
>You sit down on a nearby bench, and the world snaps back into focus.
>“Anon!” Applejack yells.
“What?” you respond, gulping air like a marathon runner.
>“Lift her up so we can get her to the hospital!”
>You shove yourself off the bench and hoist the now-unconscious Rainbow Dash over Applejack’s back.
“Hold her steady, Anonymous,” AJ orders. “I don’t want her falling off.”
>You secure the injured blue mare to Applejack’s back with your right hand as she begins to trot towards the hospital.
>Pinkie Pie bounces along beside the two of you.
“You seem oddly cheery even though your friend is injured,” you remark once you notice this.
>“Gotta keep everypony’s spirits up somehow. They say laughter’s the best medicine anyways!” Pinkie replies.
>“This happens at least once every few months. Dash tries some new-fangled stunt and ends up breakin’ a wing,” Applejack declares.
>You frown.
“I’m no medical expert, but that can’t be good in the long term,” you warn.
>“Well, we’ve got some amazing magical healers up at the Ponyville Hospital. They can fix almost anythin’. Rainbow might be out for a few weeks, but they’ll get her back up in a jiff,” Applejack rebukes.
“That didn’t really assuage my concerns,” you mutter, opening the door to the hospital. 
>“We’ve got an urgent patient,” Applejack tells the desk receptionist.
>She blearily looks up from her magazine.
>“Ugh, not again. I’ll get Doctor Stable,” she says.
>After a few minutes, a tan-colored stallion with the image of an electrocardiogram display monitor on his flank walks in along with two aides.
>He takes one brief look at Rainbow Dash and rubs his forehead with his hoof.
>“This is the third time this year,” he mutters, barely audibly to his two companions. “Get her to the OR, and prep for anesthesia and bone setting.”
>The two aides take Rainbow Dash off Applejack’s back and down the corridor out of the foyer.
>“What happened to her this time?” Doctor Stable asks, pulling out a clipboard from his labcoat.
>Applejack and Pinkie Pie both look at you.
“She lost control when she was buffeted by a strong gust of wind and crashed in the forest. Broke a wing and a leg, probably from either impact with the ground or a branch,” you answer.
>“Would that explain the twigs on her broken leg and wing?”
“No. I splinted them to prevent further damage.”
>“That is by far the worst splint job I’ve ever seen in fifteen years of working,” he chuckles. 
>“You didn’t even splint along the joint. You might as well have just done nothing,” he berates. “And why in Celestia’s name did you bring her here? You easily could have just run over here and got help. Do you know how dangerous it is to move a pony with a bone fracture?”
“Yes. I do. I made my judgment to move her here lest she bleed out,” you rebuke, your cheeks pale pink. 
“Perhaps I was wrong to do that, but perhaps I saved her life from blood less or any of the horrors of that forest.”
>Or, you needed to make it look like you did.
>“Well, let’s hope you didn’t do too much damage. That mare’s already been here three times in the past six months. She cannot keep doing this if she expects to ever fly again.”
>You nod.
>“Well, it’ll be a few hours before she’s up and about again,” the doctor explains. “Come back then.”
“Very well,” you state as a goodbye, beginning to walk towards the door.
>Pinkie Pie and Applejack follow close behind you.
>Once out the door, Applejack states, “Anonymous. We need to ask you something.”
“Hm?”
>“Did you not treat Rainbow right on purpose?”
>You blink twice and frown.
“Applejack, I might not seem to be the nicest fellow, or, well, I certainly haven’t shown myself to be, but I am not malicious, nor insane. While I was hurt by your actions, I am not vengeful. I would have no benefit from seeing Rainbow Dash permanently disabled, nor would I take pleasure in it.”
>“Pinkie Promise?” the eponymous mare inquires. “Cross your heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in your eye?”
“Pinkie Promise. Cross my heart and hope to . . . fly,” you respond firmly, and turn to head home.
>Pinkie Pie bounces off towards . . . wherever she goes, but Applejack follows behind you.
>“Anonymous, uh . . . could you wait up, there’s somethin’ else I’d like to talk to you about . . .”
>You stop.
>“I’d . . . uh . . . just like to apologize for not acceptin’ your help yesterday and . . . well, now I guess for not trustin’ you. And thank you for the fertilizer, now that I think about it.”
“Oh. Well, apology accepted.”
>“I mean, whatcha said was right. You’re not mean, you’re just different. And, I mean, Twilight’s come around to likin’ you so . . . . Are things changing for the better?”
>A cold breeze whips the drying leaves into the air.
“I guess so.”
>“See ya around, Anonymous,” Applejack says, tipping her Stetson hat.
“Yeah.”
>Now you play the waiting game, and watch as events unfold.
>All that matters is the words you say, and words can be manipulated, the little devil says.
>Fortunately for your conscience, your second promise in the past few days was not false.
>After a few hours on your own, reviewing your designs for any mistakes for the fortieth time and pondering, Pinkie Pie knocks on the door.
>“Rainbow is awake now,” she tells you cheerily. “She wants to see you. Probably for saving her life and all that you know. I mean, if I had someone save my-”
>You put a finger to her lips.
"Come on. Let's just go."
>You walk back to the hospital, Pinkie gabbing in your ear the entire way, and are directed to the second floor, fourth door on the right.
>The hallways are stark, chilling, and sanitized all the way through, the light flowing through the windows becoming almost lifeless.
>The room on the second floor, fourth door to the right is similarly bleak, with hideous teal curtains separating stainless steel beds with lumpy pale yellow mattresses sitting on top like clouds of noxious sulfur.
“Hello everyone. Good afternoon, Rainbow Dash,” you greet as you enter. 
“I see they set and cast your injuries very quickly. That’s good. ”
>Rainbow Dash’s circle of technicolor friends is gathered around her.
>“Yeah, I guess . . .” Rainbow responds. 
>She looks around. 
>“Uh, I just wanted to, ya know, thank you for getting me out of the forest.”
>Twilight and the others smile at you.
“I do what is necessary.”
>“Also, I wanted to ask you something,” Rainbow states.
“Go ahead.”
>“You see, I really don’t like not being able to fly when I’m injured. I want some way to fly without having to use my wings. So I thought, could you build me a flying machine? Twilight tells me you can practically build anything.”
>You rub your unshaven chin.
“I’m not certain.”
>“Why’s that?” Rainbow asks.
“I have no idea where I’d get the materials for it, or the money. I’ve already sent what I earned from Filthy Rich off to the ironworks producing my parts.”
>“We’ll all chip in,” Applejack suggests suddenly. “If it makes sure Rainbow isn’t so down when she’s hurt, then we’ll do anythin’ to help.”
“No, that’s completely unnecessary. I don’t even know if this even possible, even with an unlimited amount of money. Humans on Earth have been trying to create self-powered flight for centuries, and, to do it successfully, you need a gasoline-powered motor at minimum. That’s not something I have the money, tools, materials, and time to build and test. Nor do I have any idea where to get the oil to power it. I am not certain anything smaller is adaptable to pony morphology, and, furthermore, those designs have never been proven to work.”
>“Could you at least try something?” Rainbow pleads.
>You pause and think for a bit.
>Time consumption is not a problem; you have plenty of time.
>What matters is cost to acquire materials, and if the device would even function.
>While you have improved the relationship between yourself and Dash slightly, you’re not sure how she would react to a device you built failing on her, sending her plummeting to her doom.
>Pinkie Pie’s high pitched shrill suddenly cuts off your thought process.
>“Anonymous!” she cries. “Nothing is impossible with a bit of determination. Why, I built a flying machine for myself a few months back. It broke. But I could show you how to build it again!”
“I have 1400 bits,” you state. “Would that cover the cost of construction?”
“If we’re lucky, we won’t need to pay for anything,” Pinkie replies. “The town dump has a bunch of neat parts lying about that we can use.”
“Very well. Show me your design, and I’ll see if I can build it.”
>Pinkie Pie walks out of the hospital, gabbing your ear off about the parties she’s thrown over the past week, the people she’s talked to today, and virtually anything else that comes into her hyperactive mind.
>You simply nod occasionally as the flood of words barrages you. 
>“So, what have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen you since the Summer Sun Festival.” Pinkie asks, stemming the tide of her personal stories.
“Things. Testing theories. Acquiring parts.”
>“And has that been going well?”
“Fairly. I’m still physically no closer to building my transporter than I was when I first got here, but all the pieces are in place. I have none of the pieces in my possession, but, as soon as they come, I can start construction.”
>“Well, you have to start somewhere,” Pinkie replies as you walk towards Sugarcube Corner.
“You live here?” you inquire.
>“Yeah,” she replies as you walk up the stairs and enter her bedroom. “The Cakes give me room and board as part of me working for them.”
>She opens and rifles through a large blue wooden chest containing various party gags and prank devices, such as a rubber chicken, several dozen balloons, and a whoopee cushion, until she pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.
>“Here!” she exclaims, muffled through her teeth, which are currently grasped around the schematic.
>You tug the paper out from her mouth and examine it.
“This couldn’t possibly work,” you state after inspecting the design for a few moments. “There’s no way this could produce enough thrust to lift . . . well, anything, let alone a full-grown pony.”
>“Sure it can!” Pinkie debates. “It lifted me a few months ago, until that mean old griffin Gilda decided to throw me out of the sky.”
“There’s more problems than that. Rainbow Dash’s leg is broken. She wouldn’t be able to power the bicycle chain that turns the propeller.”
>Pinkie frowns.
>“The doctors probably won’t want her to use any device we build for her until she’s fully recovered, so that doesn’t matter.”
“You may be right, but I don’t want to take any risks. If she is too weak to lift the machine, then we have not done our job. I need a self-powered device.”
>Pinkie scratches her cotton candy like mane.
>“Well . . . I did design a flying harness for Rainbow’s turtle. It’s powered by magic. Could you work with that?”
“I could. Wait, you said it was powered by magic?”
>“Yeah! We power a lot of stuff on magical batteries and generators. The wizards up in Canterlot fill them with magical energy.”
“Right, I know. How many things in Equestria are powered by magic?”
>“Lots! Practically everything is.”
“Interesting.”
>Pinkie keeps running her hoof through her fluff, suddenly more vigorously.
>“The thing is, I know this design will work. I’ve built it before!”
“Then you build your design. I build mine. I don’t really need help anyways. We then have two flying machines, so if one fails, we still have a backup.” 
>“I like the way you think, Anonymous. Alright, you build your design, I build mine.”
“Good.”
>Of course, Pinkie’s will be the one to fail.
>Unless her machine works on pure willpower, there is no way it could possibly function.
>Not having a means of entry into Rainbow Dash’s house, you head back to the hospital and visit the second floor, fourth room on the right.
>Her reaction to your request to experiment is less than favorable.
>“You want to do what to my tortoise?” Rainbow Dash shouts, prompting a shushing from the nurse.
“I am not going to do anything to Tank. I need to take apart his flying device to see how it works. Then I can build you a device that will help you fly, even with an injured wing.”
>“Well . . . hm. How could I forget about Tank’s helicopter pack?”
“I assure you, it will be worth it. If I can get this to work, then you will never have to worry about not being able to fly again.”
>“Alright. You’ll also need a pegasus to get into my house. I don’t think humans can walk on clouds.”
“No, they can’t,” you say. “I also need directions.”
>Rainbow Dash gives you them, and you head off on your way.
>There is only one pegasus that you know that you feel would even consider helping you: Fluttershy.
>You head to her cottage on the edge of the forest.
>A few animals come out and greet you as you walk up the gravel path to her doorway, but you shoo them away.
>You lightly rap on the round plank door.
>As you stand there waiting, what sounds like two sentient creatures arguing rumbles through the door, followed by some muffled bangs and the clanging of a pot.
>After a brief moment of scuttling, the door opens a hair.
“Fluttershy. We need to discuss something,” you state.
>“This really isn’t a good time come back later sorry!” Fluttershy rushes out
>The door slams shut, and the din resumes.
>You knock on it again.
“I apologize for disturbing your animals a few weeks ago. But now I require your assistance in a vital matter. Know that by helping me, you are really helping Rainbow Dash.”
>The door opens fully, revealing the diminutive yellow pegasus.
>“Um . . . . Hold on a minute.”
“What’s going on in –”
>The door slams shut again. 
>A another minute of arguing inside passes before it re-opens.
>“Alright, let’s go,” Fluttershy agrees, her voice barely louder than the breeze. “What do you need?”
“I need you to go into Rainbow Dash’s house and the flying device for me,” you explain. “She has already permitted me to get it. I just need a pegasus to retrieve the device for me.”
>“Okay. I guess can do that . . . .”
>She turns inside and suddenly shouts, “Behave while I’m gone! This isn’t over.”
“Good. Follow me then, although I guess you know the way.”
>You crunch about half a kilometer along the gravel path, Fluttershy pattering along beside you.
>You can always do two good deeds in one day, you realize, and you could have even greater stability by at least partially repairing the wrongs you have committed against the pink-maned equine walking beside you.
“I would like to apologize again for disturbing your animals a few weeks back. I really should have remembered to tell you I had other ponies coming over to observe my fireworks. I wasn’t thinking entirely clearly.”
>Fluttershy mumbles something in response.
“Hm?”
>“It’s okay,” she clarifies.
>Note to self: try again later.
>You look ahead and continue walking, taking a slight left turn.
>A floating palace of lazily curved clouds with rainbow waterfalls looms ahead.
>Fluttershy floats up to the door.
>You do not see her enter from the angle you are standing at.
>A few minutes of silence pass, until Fluttershy walks out, carrying the miniscule flight device.
>It is a helmet-like metal machine with four curved steel armatures with a small opening near what appear to be helicopter blades.
>A strap across two of the armatures allows the pack to be put on.
>You snatch the device away from the Fluttershy and begin to examine it.
>Fluttershy squeaks in fear.
“Sorry, sorry.”
>The blades are connected to a gearshaft that descends into the opening.
>A small grey button on the side activates the helicopter pack, the blades almost whacking your head as they spin up.
>You reactively shut the machine off, but not before quickly noticing the yellow aura emanating from the gearshaft.
>It’s powered by magic.
>You begin to aimlessly walk away, completely entranced in inspecting the piece of technology.
>Fluttershy quietly follows you.
“Well, thanks for your help. See you around,” you state.
>“Okay,” she whispers, and ambles back towards her house.
>Continuing to study the helicopter pack, you discover that its frame is made of the inside of an old mining helmet.
>The magical generator probably powered the headlamp, but its gearshaft has been repurposed for flight.
>The helicopter blades are made from an old fan armature.
>The device has no maneuvering fins, so you assume it is controlled by shifting the user’s weight. 
>Though you would expect a device made of such ramshackle scavenged parts to be crude aesthetically, a thin coating of black paint and some clever craftsmanship hides the seams in the parts.
>The design is simple, but effective, like any good design should be.
>Re-designing the pack in a larger form should not be difficult, nor will acquiring the parts.
>Your plan in mind is to enlarge the helicopter back so that it works as a saddle.
>Pinkie Pie told you that you could find most of the parts at the junkyard, so that is where you shall go.
>You would like to find a saddle, a magical generator, and an oversized fan.
>With those three items, a few screws and other fasteners, and some good old ingenuity and problem solving, you should be able to make an effective flying machine.
>Aeronautical physics have apparently been thrown out the window in this universe, but you probably should have realized that long ago when pegasi with undersized wings can fly at the speed of sound.
>If there is one thing this universe lacks, it is consistency.
>You trudge off towards the scrapheap, asking directions from a passing earth pony.
>Pinkie Pie is already searching through the piles of rubbish once you arrive.
>“Hey Anonymous!” she shouts to you from a pile of crushed cardboard boxes and paper plates.
>The odor of the dump suddenly assaults your nostrils with a foul mixture of rust, ammonia, and moist wood.
“Smells awful around here . . .” you mutter.
>“It’s the scent of discovery, Anonymous!” Pinkie replies, having apparently heard you. 
>You cover your nose and mouth with your hand.
>“There’s all sorts of cool stuff around here! I found a cereal box from two years ago just today,” Pinkie yells down to you, sliding down the wet pile of paper goods carrying a bright red box with the picture of a dog stating “They’re deeeeelicious!” on it.
>Her ever-present smile grows a few inches.
“That’s great,” you reply.
>You begin searching the piles of refuse for the items you need to obtain.
“Have you seen a giant fan blade, a saddle, or a magical generator anywhere around here?” you ask.
>Pinkie only shakes her head.
>You walk around one of the piles, lifting up larger pieces of trash in case the things you seek are under them.
>“Anonymous!” Pinkie hollers from afar. “I think I found a few generators!”
>You jog over to Pinkie’s location.
>She is standing by a box of magical generators, labeled “To Be Disposed of Safely.”
>A few of them are spinning out of control, the gearshafts sparking like tinder in a campfire.
>You grab a medium-sized generator from the box and turn it off.
>One item down, two to go.
>You actually find something better than a saddle oxidizing: an old brass backplate for a pegasus guard.
>It will strap perfectly around any pegasus, and even has two slits for wings. 
>And, surprisingly, you find not one, but two oversized fans.
>Upon your questioning where they might have come from, Pinkie merely shrugs.
>You’re beyond the stage of questioning the logic of this universe.
>You swap out the older magical generator for the one inside one of the fans, as that one is A, compatible with the fan blade and B, will provide enough torque to spin the blade.
>A quick test proves that the fan is still somewhat functional.
>Now you just need to fuse the armor plate to the generator, and the flying machine will be finished.
>You march out of the scrap heap towards Twilight’s tree, pulling the parts on a discarded dolly you find in the heaps.
>“Well, bye, Anonymous! See you when the device is done!” Pinkie calls from her perch on a mound of rusting iron tools.
“Goodbye,” you reply over your shoulder.
>It is a brief walk back to town.
>Walking into the marketplace, you catch Twilight ambling with her dragon comrade through the marketplace on one of her usual supply runs.
>Spike is carrying several bags filled with herbs and other strange alchemical ingredients.
“Twilight!” you cry out to her, catching her attention.
>“Hello, Anonymous. What do you need?” she asks.
“I need you to weld something for me with your magic,” you reply. “It’s for Rainbow’s flying machine.
>She raises an eyebrow.
>“Weld?”
“Fuse together by melting the metal around something.”
“Oh. I think I can do that,” Twilight says. “C’mon, Spike, we’re heading back to the lab.”
>“But what about my crystal cupcake?” Spike protests.
>“We’ll get it later. Anonymous needs my help with something, and I need those herbs stored as soon as possible.”
>“Fine,” Spike relents.
>You hand him thirty bits from your pocket. 
“Here. Go get yourself something,” you state. “I’ll take the bags.”
>You need the money, but you need respect more.
>You place the sacks on your dolly.
>Twilight smiles at you.
>“Well. Thanks, Anonymous,” Spike responds. "Crystal deliciousness, here I come!"
>He runs off towards Sugarcube Corner giggling.
“Alright, let’s go,” you tell Twilight.
>On the way, you explain your design process and how you acquired parts for the flying machine, Twilight asking clarification and refining occasionally.
>“Well, Rainbow will sure be happy if it works,” Twilight says as you walk through the door to her tree-library. “I personally worry for her. She’s been really reckless as of late.” 
“Hm,” is all you can say.
>“You’ve really been taking my advice lately, Anonymous, haven’t you?” Twilight asks as you walk down into the basement. “Helping Dash get out of the forest, then offering to build her a flying machine. And then you gave Spike a bit of your own money out of the goodness of your heart. You’re really learning the Magic of Friendship.”
>“Magic of Friendship?”
>You stop on the staircase for a second and stare at the purple unicorn in front of you.
>It’s one thing that you’re trying to be nice to people but . . . .
>That concept seems a bit saccharine to you.
>“What?” she asks, hearing your footsteps cease.
“Nothing,” you reply after that second of thought. “Just pondering something.”
>“Okay. Well, if there's something you need to tell me, just say it, alright?”
"No, there's nothing I need to tell you. Nothing at all."
>Once in the basement, you grab a cloth and rub the coating of grime off of your parts as best you can and flake off as much of the tin oxide from the armor plate as you can.
>You then set the plate on the floor and place the fan assembly on top, roughly in the center.
“Alright, Twilight, here’s what I need you to do. I need you to aim a stream of energy at the exact point of contact between the armor plate and that magical generator. Understood?”
>“Understood,” Twilight answers, charging her horn.
>A blast of purple-white magic strikes the seam between the armor plate and generator.
>The metal glows red and up through the heat spectrum until it reaches white.
>The parts begin to fuse together, an amalgam of tin, iron, and copper forming at the junction.
>Twilight draws a circle of molten metal around the generator, sealing the plate and the motor together.
>As soon as the circle is complete, she makes another pass, then shuts her magic off.
“Perfect,” you state. “Now we wait a bit to let the metal fully cool. Then I’ll need your assistance again.”
>Twilight nods.
>You wait five minutes.
>Twilight goes off and begins placing her ingredients in various drawers and cabinets.
“What are those plants for?” you ask.
>“Alchemical ingredients. I need them for magical potions and poultices that I make.”
“Curious. What exactly can those do?”
>“They’re mostly remedies and a few enhancement potions.”
"Interesting."
>You may need to find out more about those.
>Having something to enhance your strength would be a boon to future projects.
>You gingerly touch the warped metal weld.
>It is completely cool.
“Alright, here’s what I need done. Hold the device down with telekinesis just enough to make sure it doesn’t fly through the roof.” you tell Twilight. 
“Okay. Just say when,” she replies, charging her horn.
>You walk over to the magical generator/motor.
>There are three power settings on the generator; you set it to the highest one.
>The fan blades spin up.
>The machine begins to hover.
>Twilight catches it with her telekinesis and holds it just enough that it is rising under its own power, but not so much that it is held down.
“Excellent,” you approve.
>The device reaches about half a meter away from the ceiling, but Twilight holds it in place.
“Alright, lower it down,” you command.
>Twilight forces the machine to the floor.
>You cautiously duck under the wings and flick the generator off.
>You dust your hands off.
>You repeat this a few more times just to be sure that the device works.
“Functions exactly as it should. If that motor can lift that armor plate, I think it should be able to lift Dash. Then she’ll control it by shifting her body weight.” you state confidently at the end of the last test. “Now all we have to do is wait for Rainbow to be released from the hospital. In the meantime, I need a lot more books. I go through every one you give me far too fast.”
>You smirk, and Twilight returns the expression.
>“Alright, c’mon, I’ll give you whatever you’re interested in and some of my favorites.”
>Another four days pass until Rainbow Dash is released.
>You find the box of old magical generators again and study them.
>They apparently work on stored magical potential energy, provided by a long-lasting enchantment.
>Having picked up a few books on alchemy, you begin to study the effects of various Equestrian herbs.
>Though definitely more numerous in size and biological features, with some approaching sentience, Equestrian flora has a large number of biochemical properties that are clearly being used to great effect in medicine.
>As they day of the final test arrives, you add a few extra safety features to the flying machine, such as a grabbable string that controls the rotors.
>Because the device is designed like a helicopter, it will slowly fall because of autorotation if the rotor shuts off.
>During powered flight, height can be set to three settings based on the power given to the generator.
>Finally, the day arrives.
>Pinkie Pie, Twilight, and you meet her in the Ponyville Park along with both flying machines.
>Though no longer bed-bound, Rainbow is now in a wheelchair.
>Pinkie is hovering on her Air Bike, while yours is set on the dolly you found at the junkyard.
>You can only stare at Pinkie’s contraption.
“That . . . that's not possible!” you shout, suddenly losing your temper. “I looked over those designs. They were completely against every law of physics, never mind the rules of engineering. It couldn’t have possibly worked!”
>“Like I told you, anything’s possible with a little magic, Anonymous. And a bit of positivity and ingenuity, of course.”
>“Anonymous, calm down,” Twilight says.
“No! Positivity and ingenuity doesn’t make things possible. Well, ingenuity maybe, but you don’t get what you want in this world just by being positive! You’ve got to put the sweat of your brow into it. Hard work, solves problems, not magic!”
>“Wow, Anonymous, you’re getting so mad about this, you must really be positive that your invention’s gonna work!” Pinkie says, oblivious to your anger.
“No! Yours was supposed to fail. It was supposed to explode into a million tiny pieces!”
>“Anonymous, come on. Enough. Calm down,” Twilight says, rubbing your arm with her hoof. “I hear Rainbow Dash coming.”
>You take a deep breath; the color washes from your face.
>“Hey, guys,” Rainbow greets as she rolls up to you. 
>She spots the flying machines and grins.
>“I’m ready to fly again.”
>“Good!” Pinkie cheers.
“Unfortunately, it looks like you won’t be using Pinkie’s right now, Rainbow,” you state. “Not with that broken leg.
>“No. The doctors recommended that I don’t even try yours, Anonymous, in case something goes wrong.”
>You frown.
“I’m fairly certain the device is perfectly safe,” you reassure. “I’ve tested it ten times over the last few days and five times just before you got here. That being said, I would watch out for the fan blades, though they should be positioned far enough so that they shouldn’t hit you. We’ve also brought you a helmet, just in case.”
>“Alright,” Rainbow agrees. “Let’s give it a shot.”
>You pick the Helipack Mark I (as you have named it) off of the dolly.
“The pack is self-powered,” you explain as you strap Rainbow in. “You control direction by shifting your bodyweight, up for forward, down for backward, et cetera. You control power with this string. There are three settings for three different heights. You should reach a height of about ten meters at full power. Pull it all the way forward to turn it off. You’ll fall slowly because the rotor autorotates. We want you to start you at the lowest setting and progressively get higher for safety.”
>“I’m just gonna go to full power, Anonymous,” Rainbow orders. “We know it works.”
“Are you sure? I just want things to be safe.”
>“Full power. I wanna fly.”
“Very well,” you concede.
>You hand Rainbow the helmet, which she quickly puts on, and she pulls the switch on the side to the highest power setting.
>The blades spin up to their full speed, and Rainbow begins to hover and slowly ascend.
“If anything goes wrong, teleport her out of there,” you tell Twilight.
>Rainbow reaches a height of about a half meter, but ascends no further.
>“Hey, Anonymous? Didn’t you say this thing was supposed to get me ‘ten meters’ off the ground?” Rainbow inquires.
“Yes.”
>“And it’s on the highest power setting?”
“Yes.”
>“So why am I hovering, not flying?”
“Because there is not enough lift to lift you, unfortunately,” you explain, your cheeks turning bright crimson with embarrassment. “As I thought.”
>However, Pinkie is not taking this moment to make a dig at you.
>“Then why didn’t you build something stronger?” Rainbow asks.
“Because there isn’t a way for me to produce something more powerful, unless I wanted it built from scratch, which I didn’t have time to do. I wouldn’t want to be working on it by the time the parts arrived.”
>Rainbow frowns.
“Pull her down, Twilight. Let’s get the pack off of her.”
>Twilight pulls Rainbow down from what little altitude she gained.
>“Pinkie!” Rainbow shouts at the pink mare. “Let’s see how high your bike can get.”
>Pinkie increases the vigor of her pedalling, and lifts a solid twelve meters up, circling around.
>“Look, Anonymous,” Twilight begins. “You didn’t perform enough tests. Pinkie Pie or I would have been willing to stand in for Rainbow in the tests in my lab. Plus, you could have gone with a lighter connector to Rainbow’s back, like a saddle, and got the parts custom-made instead of just taking them from the junkyard. I know you don’t make stuff from junk often. Pinkie does. You get things made exactly as you need them. Why didn’t you do that here?”
>You have nothing to say. 
>Rage.
>Failure.
>Irony.
>Confusion.
>These words describe all the things that you are feeling right now, and yet you show nothing on your face.
>You watch the ludicrous device circle through the sky, wanting to shoot it down with a surface-to-air missile.
>You turn to Pinkie Pie as she lands.
“It just doesn’t make sense. I looked over your design, Pinkie. There’s no way it could have worked. It defied every law of physics. Even I was only about 30% sure my design would even be able to lift its own weight. I assumed if it could do that, it could lift a little more.”
>“Sometimes the first step to getting something to work is believing it can, Anonymous.”
“No, it’s not. If that were true, then the . . .”
>You wrack your brain for an example Pinkie Pie would understand.
“Then a soufflé would always come out right just because you want it to.”
>Pinkie giggles and snorts.
>“Anonymous, quit being so negative. Look on the bright side for once,” she states, riding off on her flying contraption.
>Twilight nods to you.
>“You’ll do better next time,” she reassures, walking towards town.
>Rainbow glares at you and begins to roll off.
>No, you’re not going to take that today.
“Listen, I told you that this was a very improbable project. I did it because I had the time and because I had just enough interest to see if I could make it work. It didn’t. Life goes on.”
>“Anonymous, flying is life to me,” Rainbow argues. “I need to fly, it’s like breathing for me. And now I’m stuck on the ground again for another six weeks.”
“Then you need to learn to stop being so reckless. I saw what you were doing up there. You were flying at near supersonic speeds. How much time did you think you would have if you lost control? You’re lucky you’re not dead! The same thing with my helipack. If we had lost control on the first try and couldn’t get you back down, you would be hurt again. And I’d never hear the end of it from you and your friends because it would be my invention that caused you to never fly again.”
>Rainbow snorts.
>“Why the hay do you have to be so smart, Anonymous?” she asks, angrily wheeling towards town in her wheelchair.
>You kick the dirt and walk home.
>Failure is not something that you accept lightly.
>However, the whole exercise was somewhat pointless.
>You should have just trusted your gut and told Rainbow no.
>With a bit more time, perhaps the device could have worked, but that is irrelevant now.
>Doubt in the success of your quantum transporter creeps in, a silent terror.
>Except, this time, it is even stronger.
>If you fail at that, everything is lost.
>You are doing more than the improbable, as with the flying machine, but the impossible.
>While normally breaking the impossible sounds like an amazing idea to you, the risk of absolute failure in this case chills you to your core.
>You cannot stay in this chaotic, nonsensical universe until you die.
>And you’re going to get out of it by any means necessary.

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