The Sparklator

“Twilight? Do you feel all right?” Pinkie asked.

Twilight groaned. She was sprawling on the ground amid the splinters of the flower pot that had just fallen on to her spine.

“Twilight?” Pinkie hunched over the body of her friend. “Please tell me something!”

“Ouch! My back!” Twilight whimpered. She cracked her eyes open, winced, shook her back and jiggled her hind legs. “But nothing broken I think.” She stirred. ”What happened?”

“A flower pot fell from the windowsill of Roseluck’s house and—” The door of Roseluck’s house flung open and the florist showed up onto the threshold. Her eyes locked on the lying alicorn. She pursed her lips, leapt over the stoop and landed smack-bang ahead of Twilight.

“Princess Twilight? How do you feel? I’m so sorry,” she spluttered. “I was arranging those new pots on the sill, I let the window ajar, and a sudden draught jolted it outwards and—”

“It’s all right Roseluck,” Twilight cut in, mustering her legs back under her chest and clambering to her hooves. She shook the last motes of earthenware off her barrel, then looked around at the shards of the missile which had walloped her. “Fortunately, my spine is quite solid. As a matter of fact, that’s because I eat spinach every day. As you know, spinach contains tons of calcium, and calcium gets assimilated by the intestine, then is borne through the blood stream to the bones, where it—” Twilight broke off as Roseluck’s front door shut.

She sighed.

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” Pinkie said. “I’d told you something was about to fall. My sense never fails.”

“But, Pinkie, that sense of yours is… is… irrational! There’s no fact, extrapolation of facts or theory that can explain it. Therefore…” She hesitated. “Your sense doesn’t make sense!” she bellowed.

“Well, if you prefer being a landing mat for falling objects,” Pinkie chirped as she pronked away, “next time choose a giant cupcake rather than a flower pot!”

Bemused, Twilight watched Pinkie recede. Until a grin appeared on her face, followed by a purple aura around her horn.

The distant shape of Pinkie Pie glowed, took off and made a swift U-turn.

“Hey!” Pinkie squealed. “That's not fair! You sore loser!”

“Life's not fair,” retorted Twilight, “and this has nothing to do with losing. Pinkie, I declare you the subject of my next investigation.”

“Investigation? Really?” Pinkie’s eyes glistened as a wide beam lit up her face. ”Like in the Friendship express? Where’s my moustache? The magnifying glass? There will be cakes? Oh yummy yummy! Macaroons? No, Donuts? No, no, cookies? Chocolate chip. Wait, no, what about muffins? Yeah, muffins. No, scones…”

Twilight ambled away, towing an airborne Pinkie lost in a sugary daydream.

Sitting on a cushion, Pinkie jerked and yelped. She looked like a four-legged spider in the middle of its cobweb. A four-legged, pink spider with a colander on its head. Wires ran in all directions from the colander, linking it to a ragtag collection of devices whose dials jigged as sundry objects crashed all over the place. Other nondescript apparatuses belched strips of paper on which invisible needles had scribbled jagged curves. Occasionally, a bell rang.

In the midst of that clatter, Twilight Sparkle jockeyed coloured handles jutting out of a complex dashboard. Every now and then, she glanced at an hourglass.

A last bough smashed right behind Pinkie. Twilight flicked a switch off, and all the machines shut down. A welcome hush descended.

“Wonderful!” Twilight said. She stood up, walked to Pinkie, unplugged the wires one by one, then took the weird colander off, reveling a flattened pink mane. “Thank you, Pinkie! I appreciate your help in this matter.”

“Wee Twilight! You’re very welcome,” Pinkie answered, grinning. “I love roller coasters!” She tried to stand up but flopped back with a rustle. “Twilight, are you sure those are still necessary?” she asked, pointing with her head at hoofcuffs moored to the wall by chains.

Twilight blushed, and the cuffs unlocked magically. “Sorry Pinkie,” she apologised. The pink mare stood up, bobbled her head to restore some of the lost puff to her mane, stretched her limbs and pronked to the door.

“Goodbye and good luck Twilight!” she declared before vanishing through the doorframe.

Twilight trudged across the rubble to the door, closed it and turned around, looking at her living room, perplexed. There was debris everywhere, and yards of paper with precious recordings printed on. She would need days to collect, interpret and extract significant figures from this clutter of data. Yet, the game was definitely worth the candle.

But first things first: cleaning that mess.

“SPIIIIIKE!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

THE PONYVILLE FARRIER

Moonday, Fieldmonth 34th

MYSTERIOUS WORKS IN PROGRESS IN THE OUTSKIRTS

Overnight, a high wooden fence sprung out of nowhere in a vacant lot near the road to the barren moors. Pegasi flying over the place reported a magical aura darkens all the area and nothing of the inside transpires. A large gate commanding the admission to the lot is watched over by burly, hooded guards equipped with weapons and dogs, who have been told to keep every interloper at bay. No movement in or out has been registered yet, but some sort of bustling activity is going on, if noises are of any indication.

Asked whether she had any specific information about those works, Mayor Mare declined to comment.

Princess Sparkle missing

Consistent rumours suggest that princess Twilight Sparkle has cancelled all her appointments and official duties in the last 48 hours. The Princess has not been seen by anypony since early Earthday morning, when she took off from her castle for an unknown destination. A spokepony for the Canterlot Royal Office said nor the office nor the royalties themselves were currently aware of the Princess’s whereabouts. We will report further as soon as we get more information.

THE PONYVILLE FARRIER

Starsday, Cornmonth 3rd

UNEXPLAINED BURGLARY AT SUGARCUBE CORNER

Last night, around one in the AM, a masked intruder barged into Sugarcube Corner. Their motive remains unclear as nothing was robbed, not even a tool displaced. However, the mysterious burglar was presumably spotted on the road to the Everfree forest by a stallion suffering from insomnia. Fitful Slumber, the witness, had gone for a night stroll when, as he declared to the police: “…turning home from his short walk he had made out in the distance a menacing shape silently trotting towards the Everfree forest. The ghostly pony appeared to tow a big object of sorts hidden under a curtain.” Police has filed a case and is actively searching for any other witness to help it collect more evidence about this unusual misdemeanour.

It was a blast for an alicorn such as Twilight Sparkle to pick the lock of Sugarcube Corner, get silently inside, walk up to the first floor and grab Pinkie in a levitation spell while she slept. The conclusion she had drawn from her experiment was amazing, and she intended to exploit it.

But, before she could do that, there was a last step to take.

Once she was deep enough into the forest, she stopped, removed the curtain that concealed her quarry, lay it down on the ground and delicately put Pinkie on it. She lit her horn to dispel the surrounding shadows.

“Pinkie!” she whispered. “Pinkie, wake up!”

“Uh?” answered Pinkie. She cracked her eyes open, and jerked in wonder. “Twilight? But where have you been?” She looked around. “And where are we?”

“Pinkie,” answered Twilight. “I cannot answer yet, but even the few elements I’ll be obliged to tell you must remain secret. Pinkie promise?”

Pinkie placed a hoof ahead of her neck. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” accompanying her oath with the customary gesture.

“Okay,” Twilight picked up. “We’re in the middle of the Everfree forest. I need you to show me the way to the Mirror pool.”

“Ooooh! I see! Do you need more Twilights? Wee! Two Twilights? That’s going to be fun!” She put a hoof on her mouth and seemed to think over. “Well, maybe not,” she added.

“No, Pinkie. I don’t need more me. I need more you.”

Pinkie’s eyes bulged. “But why? Don’t you remember last time there was many mes?”

“I only need three more of you, Pinkie, and…” She magically fished a big pen out of her saddlebag and drew a dark, thick circle around Pinkie’s cutie mark. “This way I’ll know who’s who!”

“Ooooh! Very clever!” Pinkie scratched her head. “If I remember correctly, the entrance to the pool lies next to a bramble bush.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Pinkie, the Everfree forest is full of bramble bushes!” She looked around and walked across the path to a prickly shrub. “How can we know if it’s that one…” She took a few steps ahead. “…or that one or…” She crossed the road back, aiming for another shrub, “that… Wooaaah!” she yelled as she fell into a hidden hole.

Pinkie bounced to the brink of the hole. “Squee Twilight! It seems you found it!” And she followed suit.

THE PONYVILLE FARRIER

Waterday, Cornmonth 21st

MYSTERIOUS BUILDING ABOUT TO BE UNVEILED

PRINCESS SPARKLE MISSING CASE EXPLAINED

It has been more than a month since Princess Sparkle vanished. About the same day, mysterious construction works began in a fenced lot outside Ponyville. We suspected that both events were linked, but never had any proof to vindicate our theory.

Until last night we received a telegram from the Princess’s press office inviting us to “discover Princess’s Twilight newest and most remarkable achievement in her constant strife to make the life of every citizen of Equestria safer and more enjoyable.”  The event is to take place at noon today in the precincts of the new building whose construction she personally oversaw.

We will be dispatching a full team of reporters to cover this shindig in every detail. More in our morning edition!

“Welcome to all!” Twilight chirped from the rostrum where she had taken place. Behind her, glued or nailed on the wall, golden letters glared “SPARKLE PRUDENCE INC.” A gaggle of journalists sat in the room, ready to put down every word of the speech the princess was about to deliver. Sitting in the first row, her five closest friends were here too, and an armchair had been brought in for Mayor Mare.

Twilight rapped on the microphone to get the audience’s attention, cleared her throat and began. “First of all, I would like to apologise for my disappearance, and all the turmoil and concern it caused. I had to quarterback this project in the strictest privacy. I hope you will all forgive me when you know what it is about.

“Only one pony in the assistance was aware of my design—well, a part of it. I would like to thank her for her discretion.”

Everypony in the audience craned their neck around, wondering who the insider could be, but Pinkie did not flinch.

“Did you ever experience the dubious joy of having your whole day ruined by a rogue object falling down from nowhere and crashing on to your body or on to your precious load?

“If yes, then let me brace you up. This is never going to happen again, at least in Ponyville. Ponyville is about to become the first town where nopony will ever have to look up for fear of being crushed. And that breakthrough in living standards stems from the unique combination of nature and technology. It is a fully patented system that I christened ‘The Sparklator’.

“In a few words, the Sparklator is a complex machine involving thought picking and processing. At the end of a series of complex computations which, for the sake of simplicity, I shall not detail here, the machine punches and spits out a card on which the location of the next crashing object is printed.

“If the Sparklator is the brain of the system, a team of unicorns, each one capable of instant teleportation anywhere within Ponyville, is its legs. They will work to clear out and cordon off the area before any mishap occurs. And thus, anypony will be safe.

“But let me now show you to the guts of the Sparklator.”

Twilight stepped down from the rostrum and motioned the bystanders towards a steel gate that she opened using her magic. “Follow me, please!”

She led the way along a dingy corridor, passing by several nondescript doors, until she reached a narrow stairway. There she stopped and, turning around: “This stairway leads fifty metres underground. The machine had to be shielded from all kind of interference.”

Descending step by step and rounding every landing took a long time, but at last the procession halted in front of another huge steel gate. The princess punched a code on a keyboard, a green light lit with a buzz, and the gate grated open. Behind it a metallic catwalk stretched out, on which the passel of ponies took place.

They all gazed around breathlessly.

They had entered a vast dome whose wall was a shimmering tapestry. Countless lights studded it, each flashing its own colour at its own beat; thousands of red, orange, blue, green, yellow, purple, white blotches randomly sprang from nothingness, like a swarm of fireflies dancing to the clashes of an unearthly fanfare. Together they composed transient, interwoven patterns that came into being only to vanish the next instant, yet gave birth to more intricate and amazing designs. It was light made living. The eye couldn’t help but being caught and mesmerised.

And yet, something more intriguing was talking place in that lofty hall.

In the middle of it, a lesser, glassy dome had been built. Its floor was covered by a ragtag collection of giant-sized toys, garish balloons and sundry objects. There was even a party cannon. A metallic structure supported a ladder leading to diving-board. Two large cabinets, about five yards in width, were placed opposite each other. What purpose they served was impossible to guess at first sight. But yet more puzzling, in the middle of that mishmash, three Pinkie Pies were cavorting to the sound of a blaring, endlessly repeated riff, occasionally interrupted by shouts of “Fun!”.

“What you see here,” Twilight begun, “is the heart and brain of the Sparklator. The three clones of Pinkie Pie you can watch frolicking are tuned to the surroundings of this building and react ahead of time to any fall or crash that’s going to happen within the range of their perceptive field.

“Sensors—”

“Where do they come from? Why are they three of them?” a journalist interrupted.

”A very relevant question,” Twilight acknowledged. “Somewhere in the Everfree forest”—and at that name some ponies shuddered—“lies a pool that duplicates any pony who stares at it. That’s where the clones come from. Next, why three of them and not only one? Well, because they act in unison, and thus expand their individual sensitivity both in space and time. Not only do we get improved range, but they pick up on impending crashes up to ninety seconds in advance, instead of only a few for a single Pinkie Pie.”

“I understand, but then, why only three and not more?”

“The simulation we ran demonstrated that the increase in performance peaks out at three. More Pinkie Pies wouldn’t improve the efficiency in a significant way. Does that answer your question?”

“Indeed, fully. Thanks.”

“Good. Let’s carry on then. Sensors embedded in the wall,” Twilight continued, “record the clones’ brain activity. Every light that you see here”—she made a gesture that took in the whole place—“mirrors the status of a single sensor. This formidable sum of information is forwarded to a central calculator which tallies everything up, then runs sophisticated algorithms to compute the exact location of the future crash. The output, available in less than a tenth of a second, is, as I already told you, printed on a card expelled through a slot in a nearby room.

“As soon as a new report pops up, a team of unicorns immediately teleports to the designed location with the suitable gear before anypony can be harmed. Once the item has fallen, the unicorns pack everything up and teleport back here, waiting for their next assignment.

“The service will be available 24/7 from now on. All Ponyville citizens can henceforth walk the streets and rest assured that nothing will conk them on the sly. It’s total safety, 100% guaranteed, all year round.”

Twilight paused and grinned. “Any further questions?”

Another journalist raised a hoof. “Yes?” Twilight said.

“How do you care for the Pinkie Pies inside that dome?”

“Ah. Another good question. You see that machine over there?” Twilight trained a hoof at one of the cabinets. “This is a cake and cider dispenser. It is refilled each morning with fresh pastry delivered from Sugarcube Corner and cider brewed at Sweet Apple Acres. This way our Pinkie Pies won’t get famished or parched!”

“And what about…” The journalist hesitated and blushed. “Well, you get my meaning… I mean… The other end?”

“Oh!” Twilight blurted and blushed in turn. “There are toilets, of course. There.” She pointed at the other cabinet.

“Is your team authorised to operate inside houses?” another pony asked.

“That’s a point I precisely intended to mention. The answer is no, of course. However, nothing prevents it. So, this is going to be offered as a premium, paying service, though the charge will be low. We are counting on a high number of subscribers to fuel this business and make it profitable.”

There was a hush, amidst the muffled sound of the circus music seeping through the inside dome. Twilight scanned the audience, but nopony raised a hoof any more. Some journalists were busy shooting the Pinkie Pies below, other finished to jot their notes down.

“Very well,” Twilight said after a few seconds. “Since there is no further question, I will see you back to the exit. Don’t hesitate to contact me should you need further clarification.”

During the first weeks, the inhabitants of Ponyville couldn’t help but startle when those purple-jacketed teams of unicorns would appear out of the blue, bearing sawhorses and roadblocks. As soon as they materialised, they would gently but firmly push all the pedestrians out of the way and rope it off to block anyone from entering.

Then, a few second later, something would inevitably crash: a shingle, a flower pot or a heap of snow that had detached from a roof… if not pieces of flatware thrown out of a window by fighting couples or cranky teens. The dangers were numerous, yet a Sparkle Prudence’s team was always there to avoid any casualty.

In time, everypony got used to it. Roseluck’s house stoop was fenced once and for all, and a sign was installed to warn every trespasser of the hazard. More and more ponies subscribed to the private offer to extend the protection to their homes. With success came plans for extension, and a second building with its own trio of Pinkie Pies was built in downtown Canterlot, and made a big hit on the spot.

It was Starsday evening and the upper crust of Canterlot, nobility and go-getters alike, had gathered in the Royal theatre to attend the premiere of the latest Sapphire Shore’s show. The hall was chock-a-block. Numerous other celebrities were scattered amongst the audience.

Twilight Sparkle had taken seat in the royal loge, from where she could watch the stage unobstructed. She had immediately noticed Rarity sitting in the first row. No wonder: Ponyville’s most famous designer had been working day and night for three months to imagine and create the star’s newest and swankiest attire.

When the hour struck, the singer emerged from the backstage under thunderous applause, bowed, and went on immediately with her first song.

⁂

The show had been going for about half an hour when someone rapped at the royal loge’s door. With a sigh, Twilight stood up and walked to the door. She opened it to one of the employees of Sparkle Prudence’s local branch, who handed her a well-recognisable card.

A card from the Sparklator.

She cast a glance at it and yelped. CANTERLOT’S ROYAL THEATRE was printed on it. She turned around, and teleported right away to the middle of the stage.

She raced towards Sapphire Shore, who had stopped singing in amazement, and magically snatched the microphone away from the artist’s hand. “EVERYPONY’S ATTENTION PLEASE!” she yelled in the mic. “SOMETHING’S ABOUT TO CRASH IN A FEW SECONDS. PLEASE LEAVE THE THEATRE IMMEDIATELY!”

The resulting panic was indescribable. Most of the unicorns, Rarity with them, simply teleported out of the building. Pegasi took off, clipping to the high windows that the swiftest smashed asunder, gashing their wings and limbs against the sharp splinters. But on the ground, all the earth ponies rushed blindly towards the few exits in a ghastly rout. Amid a deafening din, the strongest jostled the weak aside, who stumbled, fell and were trampled on by the those behind them. Foals squealed and were squashed by unconcerned adults running for their life. Bones cracked; ponies screamed; blood spurted from the open wounds; dark grisly puddles spread and marred the blue moquette.

From the stage, Twilight watched the rampage, transfixed.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang which detonated over the turmoil. A swarm of flashy confetti flitted down from the ceiling, sprinkling the deserted seats in bright, merry coloured spots. It was like a signal. Twilight’s gaze wandered about aimlessly, until it locked on the body of a filly helplessly lying on the floor, her barrel smashed, her legs crushed, her pelt and outfit matted with blood.

Something snapped in Twilight’s mind.

Luna softly closed the door behind her and walked down the short entrance stairway of Canterlot’s magic kindergarten, at the foot of which Fluttershy, Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were all waiting for her.

Applejack spoke first. “Any progress?” she asked.

Luna’s face was stern. She simply shook her head.

“Anything you can do for her?” Fluttershy added.

“I’m afraid not,” Luna replied, lowering her head. “I’ve tried to reach her subconsciously through dreams, but—it doesn’t work. It’s as if she had left our dreamland and created one of her own, in a remote part of the dreamscape I cannot enter. She is stranded in an alien word. The psychologist I talked to said she probably had chosen to regress in order to forget all that had happened. The guilt was too heavy for her to bear, so her mind self-protected by sheltering into oblivion. Alas, there is no way to know if she will ever leave her catatonic state and be herself again.”

“What can we do?” Applejack asked again. “Surely there’s something we might try?”

“Just hoping against hope,” Luna answered. “I will visit her next week. But don’t expect any change. I’m sorry.”

The blue alicorn sadly glanced at each mare, then, silently, walked away along the street towards the royal castle.