Author's Note

am sorry for the longest wait time for an update but as you all know 2020 to 2022 were one hell of a time to be alive in the world. so by overdo here's your update!

Chapter 6 - Shops and Packing ( Part 1/3 )

Chapter 6 - Shops and Packing

After resting their minds for an hour or so in Speed of Sound and enjoying a small brunch of Sugarcube Corner sweets, the gang found themselves in better spirits. They engaged in the usual chit-chat while meandering back towards the academy through Ponyville’s tight backstreets. This time, the discussion was focused mostly on two topics.

One was the music players they’d collectively purchased. It felt good to actually get something for Hearth’s Warming, and no time was wasted in unpacking the devices and giving them all test runs with some of Gallus’s newly dubbed mixtapes, which he happily doled out. The exception was Yona, who had passed on those in favor of fiddling with her device’s radio tuner. After twisting the tuning knob for a good minute or so, she was able to pick up the local top forty station and trot along happily to that, the massive antenna bouncing and swaying to her beat.

Smolder was content with only listening to a song or two before doffing her headphones and opening her ears to the environment, with Ocellus following suit shortly after. Sandbar was more agreeable to the ambient tape he’d gotten, and he kept the volume low in order to converse easily. Silverstream’s attitude was the opposite, with the twitchy hippogriff only able to tolerate a minute or so of a mixtape before plucking it out and brusquely demanding another.

Gallus was certainly no stranger to Silverstream’s exuberance, but with an added dose of caffeine in that mixture, she started slowly inching beyond the griffon’s threshold of tolerance. He still entertained her wishes though, passing her new tapes as though they were chocolate bars while she shuffled backwards without a care. By some luck, she hadn’t tripped over anything yet, and it was her griffon friend’s hope that she’d be able to hold off her inevitable crash until after they’d solved the Ocellus problem.

The griffon himself was listening to his pièce de résistance, a glorious mix of soft synth and electric guitar pieces which he jammed to until his slow jig brought him to the neighborhood where Sandbar lived. Just as he’d hoped – and known – taking an hour off of the hunt allowed him to settle his frayed nerves and he was now ready to resume the chase. He was certain that the town wasn’t tapped out for opportunities yet, they just had to dig a little deeper.

“Well? What are we gonna do now?”

To Gallus’s chagrin, Silverstream had grown tired of the last remaining tape and now wanted to strike up a conversation. She may have not been the most approachable at that time but she was right to broach the subject. Since the griffon knew that she wasn’t the only one with such concerns in mind he spun on his heel to address his friends as a whole.

“We’re going to find a way to get Ocellus back in the game, that’s what.”

“But Gallus,” Sandbar almost whined. “There’s literally nothing out here. We need a city.”

Gallus knew that the rest of the gang had benefited from the break as well and were ready to go again, but there was still an obvious rift in beliefs on how to proceed. Knowing that getting huffy over such matters again would get him nowhere, the griffon took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his beak.

“Alright, I know earlier we weren’t at our best…”

Even though any hard feelings had long since fizzled out, the rest of the gang still collectively groaned at their failings.The reminder also served to flare up any aches they’d been nursing since then.

“But that was then. Now, we could just pack it in. Go back to our cozy little dorns and bide our time until break ends and things get back to normal. But by the time that happens we’ll be so far behind the other players that we’ll never be able to catch up. Or, we bird up, forget about our little setback, and carry on.”

“But carry on where?” Smolder inquired while crossing her arms. “We can’t keep running around Ponyville when there’s nothing here.”

Gallus waved a claw, trying to dispel any more doubt from cropping up. “Yeah, I’m well aware of that. What I do know is that we still have three options here. The local pawn shop, Barnyard Bargains, or a repair shop.”

Smolder perked up at that last suggestion. She considered herself to be knowledgeable of the many shops and businesses that dotted the town, but she was still drawing a blank even after several hours to dwell on things. But she did know of someone who’d have a better grasp of such places.

“Do you know of any good ones, Gallus? ’Cuz I sure don’t.”

His answer didn’t help matters much. “Not off the top of my head, no. But they are bound to exist seeing as most of the low-level infrastructure I’ve seen around here uses gem tech and it's all old to boot. There’s gotta be someone that repairs it all and they could be our ticket.”

Smolder still held to her skepticism. “And what happens when those turn out dry? And how do we know any of these places are even open?”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Gallus carried on unabated. “And the only way to do that is to get to Sandbar’s place since that’s close or hit up a phone booth, whichever comes first.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if my place is the best place for this…”

Sandbar’s reedy tone, along with the hoof he was awkwardly rubbing into the back of his head, told Gallus that there was going to be some kind of hangup with the latest evolution of the plan. He had no clue as to what that could possibly be. Sandbar’s family were the most chill ponies the griffon had ever met, surely they wouldn’t mind letting them hang around for a few minutes to hunt down some information.

“Why not? I’m sure your folks wouldn’t mind us using their phonebook.”

“Oh no,” Sandbar shook his head, which dispelled Gallus’s brief concern. “They’d be cool with that. It’s just that baby sis… kinda ate it.”

The griffon’s concern came flying back with a vengeance, but for different reasons. “Really? Your sis ate it?”

“Y-yeah, wouldn’t you know,” Sandbar chuckled. “No idea how, though. Usually we catch her nibbling on the rug or something.”

Gallus couldn’t hide his skepticism at that one, having spun a few tall tales himself. But he’d met that crazy little tot and that lent him a little leeway in the belief department. Still...

“You’re telling me that a filly who comfortably fits into the crook of my elbow, ate an entire phonebook?”

All Sandbar could do was shrug. “Pretty much, Been waiting for next year’s issue ever since.”

Gallus was going to complain about another wrench in the plan, but since the town itself operated a small network of public phones that could be accessed with relative ease, he thought better and chose to just forge ahead.

“Alrighty then, where’s the nearest payphone?”

Sandbar pointed the gang in the right direction, and it wasn’t that much more of a hike before a booth made itself known. As soon as that utilitarian gray box came into his view, Gallus happily took wing, having recovered enough after earlier shenanigans to do so. Silverstream followed on impulse as well, and soon both were landing on a street corner which was like most others they’d passed, save for a single story business called Big Buck’s Beepers which was closed for the holiday.

Gallus was all business the moment his feet touched ground. He stalked up to the booth with a predatory bounce in his step and all but bashed the accordion door open enough to slip inside. The interior was… surprisingly spacious for its intended purpose, and if he’d spared more thought he may have come to the realization that Ponyville had many draft mares and stallions who would need something that suited their sizes as well as the common pony. But, with solutions to problems before him, he paid such things no mind.

Let’s see here.

He didn’t bother with the phone itself, not yet. Instead, he wrapped his talons around the spine of a slightly tarnished book that was stowed in a cubby and pulled it out. He opened it directly to the yellow pages and started pawing through them, finding contact information for Everfree Outpost, the local pawn shop, and Barnyard Bargains. With those pages of note earmarked, he continued through the rest in search of repair services. It didn’t take long to start picking them out from everything else, and he recited each one in turn.

“Repair for toilets. Home repair and remodeling. Repair for toys. Repair for heaters and air conditioning… Hey! Watch it!”

Gallus grunted in displeasure when Silverstream imposed herself into his search by squeezing into the booth with him. Curious eyes stared at the open book in his talons for nary a second before she squealed in delight.

“Wow! Lookit all the little thingies Ponyville has! We’ll get Ocellus fixed up for sure!”

“Yeah,” the griffon chuckled lightly. “And it would be a lot easier if I had a bit of elbow room.”

Silverstream had known Gallus long enough to take that hint. “Right! Claustrophobia! Sorry!”

The hippogriff pulled back out of her friend’s space, but talons which grasped her sleeve stopped her.

“Actually, got a pad and a pen on ya?”

“Oh! Like you wouldn’t believe!”

Silverstream delved into her satchel and produced a coil bound sketchbook that looked fit to fall apart.

“There you are,” the burgeoning artist chirped. “Should be some empty space in the back of that one. Don’t mind the crazier drawings, that’s just my big imagination going wild.”

Gallus had opened the little pad to a page of concentric circles, and quickly flipped ahead to a blank page before his eyes got too boggled. He was going to ask for that pen again, but the utensil was easily found clipped to the binding. With the phonebook opened to his first earmark – and the odd tipped calligraphy pen held in the correct grasp after a quick pointer from his companion – he resumed his task.

“Ah, I found it!”

About a minute or so into scratching out numbers and addresses Gallus had located the correct kind of repair service, which he gestured towards with the back of the pen. “See? Repair for all general electronics including gem tech! We’re in business if we go to these guys.”

It was then that the rest of the gang arrived on the scene. Sandbar and Ocellus trotted right up to the open door, but were reserved enough to only stick their heads in to discuss things while Gallus had a phone tucked into the crook of his neck. Smolder was a different story. She regarded the booth with suspicion and held an arm out in front of Yona to keep the yak away.

“Why dragon scared? Why keep Yona back?”

“I’m not scared.” Smolder shook her head and chuckled. “It’s just that in all the movies and shows I’ve seen, phone booths are what either whisks creatures into other dimensions or drags them off on zany adventures through time. Neither of which I am interested in right now.”

Yona gingerly nudged the dragon’s shoulder, almost knocking her off her feet. “Bah! Moving pictures tell lies. No need for worry.”

With a roll of her eyes at the unintentional jab to her hobby, Smolder crossed her arms. “That’s what I like to tell myself. But given our track record, I can't be too sure.”

“Alright! Alright! ’Errybody out!”

Ocellus and Sandbar scooted to the side as Silverstream bounded out onto the sidewalk – followed by Gallus at a more sedate pace even though it was clear that he’d lost his taste for the cramped space. He tugged at the nape of his hoodie, then held up Silverstream’s sketch book for all to see.

“I made a few calls, and pretty much anything official is shuttered for the foreseeable future.”

“So... we’re done here?”

Gallus was quick to stifle any pessimism from Smolder. “Nah. Found a few home based repair shops, and one of them works year-round. Couldn’t get a hold of them directly but if they are anything like the guys back home they’d rather just have you bring it on over instead of argue about it over the phone.”

“That all hinges upon them being home,” Smolder cautioned. “Is this really the best we can do?”

“Considering the circumstances, Smolder, I’d say we’re doing good for ourselves. And if they’re not home or can’t fix us up then we’ll just have to hop the train to Canterlot and see what turns up there.”

“And if you're worried about a repeat of earlier…” Gallus cut off any retort with a confident smile. “Don’t. If Ponyville is the center of Equestria then Canterlot is the center of the universe. Plenty of big demand to warrant a big supply. And those upper crust snobs always want the best things to show off to their friends. I wouldn’t be shocked if most of them own legit supercomputers just for office work and the occasional round of solitaire or minesweeper.”

The technically minded group got a good chuckle out of that one as there was a real smattering of truth behind it. Feeling like a bit of a joker herself at that time, Smolder tried to keep the merriment going with a smart remark.

“So, where are headed to oh Gallus, master of grand plans?”

Yona butted in before Gallus could respond. “Yona think repair shop best option. Ocellus have big rig, best tackle big challenge first.”

“I’m with Yona!” Silverstream declared. “That Gem Matrix Thingamabobber is cool, I wanna fix it!”

“Alright then. I got the address right here,” Gallus tapped on the pad, “so how about we get O’s system packed up and ready to roll. Talons crossed they can fix it.”

Smolder mulled that over for a second, then nodded. “Alright, that’s a plan.”

After packing up Ocellus’s Gem Matrix

The gang collectively grunted and groaned as they pushed Ocellus’s rig along. Moving the Gem Matrix through the academy’s smooth halls was hard enough, but guiding the massive cabinet over rough terrain was a true test of patience. It took five sets of hooves and claws to not only keep in the center of the ice-patched path that passed for a city road, but to get over all the little bumps and divots without causing any more damage to the machine.

Sandbar had taken the lead, his deep breaths pumping white vapor into the air as he forged ahead. He was the odd creature out in this instance, once again saddled with the responsibility of minding his cart laden with all the essentials that didn’t have wheels. Not being the athletic sort, the earth pony found himself getting a bit winded from pulling a rather heavy weight for a long distance, not to mention the simple harness that was straining close to its limit would dig in quite painfully whenever momentum was lost. He also found himself playing the role of a guide, keeping an eye out for the smoothest route and following it as closely as possible.

The going was rough, and it only got rougher before Smolder soon found it within herself to lodge the first complaint.

“Tell me.” The orange dragon huffed while hiking up a bundle of wires that wouldn’t stay in the cart back onto her shoulder. “Why’re we bringing the whole system with us?”

Gallus flashed her a grin while keeping his talons wrapped around a convenient albeit rusted handle that had been bolted to the system’s frame at some point in its life.

“Because,” he sing-songed. “This ain’t my first rodeo. When it involves computers it’s best to bring the whole box with you, especially when said box is pushing thirty or however many years old.”

“I get that,” Smolder agreed. “But… the whole thing?”

Gallus ground his beak in annoyance. It was mostly because the road was horrifically cambered and the gem matrix wanted to constantly drift towards the ditch, but a little ire was directed toward his dragon friend as well.

“We’re bringing the whole thing so that when more faults are found we don’t have to fly all the way back to get something important.”

With a grumble of annoyance, Smolder dropped the issue and cast her attention elsewhere. The part of town was new to her and most of the other creatures foreign to Equestria. It certainly wasn’t out of any kind of animosity as many students visited the Everfree, just that the de-facto entrance was Fluttershy’s Animal Sanctuary further south. Any other spot was considered too risky to venture into, thus, they hadn’t much reason to travel anywhere else.

A lot of the properties were quite a bit more unkempt than the usual, with dour looking cottages standing against both the winter and the wind. Most of them were vacation homes only ever occupied during nicer months, with only a select few spewing little puffs of smoke out of their chimneys.

“Alright, simpler question.” Smolder threw a careless wave to their surroundings. “How much more of this before we get there?”

“Just a little longer guys.” Sandbar assured them all. “We’re almost there. Just a few more numbers.”

The local pony had been counting the tags on the mailboxes as soon as they had crossed the river, searching for the correct one while reciting what he’d learned from Gallus in his head. They went up numerically the further down the road they went, and after passing a few more boxes he drew to a stop in front of a freshly shoveled driveway.

“This looks like the spot. Signs of life too.”

Of all the little lots they’d slogged past, this one was the most disorganized. Apart from some minimal upkeep, it looked like whomever was living there had let it go to the metaphorical dogs. Tall, stiff grasses grew out well above the snowpack, with much of that having drifted up around the foundations of the dime-a-dozen cottage and attached garage right smack in the center. It was pretty rough too, with paint chipping off the siding and a layer of frosty grime obscuring the windows. Despite that, the front door looked quite new and a lit neon sign in the adjacent window assured all passer’s by that the little business within was open.

“Well, that looks homely,” Smolder groused while taking in the sight.

Gallus didn’t miss her lack of approval, but having grown up around far worse, he could only respond with a shrug. “If these guys can get O up and running again, then I dont give a damn about the state of their digs.”

“Pony house don’t look so hot.” Yona regarded the home with a dangerous glint in her eyes “Yak need smash pony house into ground so pony can rebuild again!”

Not wanting the situation to get any worse by virtue of a missed yak holiday, Ocellus rushed out in front of Yona to offer a more peaceful solution. “Ah, no need for that. How about Gallus and I go up and ring the doorbell instead?”

Silverstream instantaneously held up her talons. “Oh! Can I tag along again?”

“And Silver,” Ocellus quickly added before Gallus could complain.

Sandbar, who was still breathing quite deeply, happily agreed to that. “Sounds good. We’ll stay out here while you guys talk business.”

Without any more time wasted, Gallus flashed Silverstream a challenging smirk and then winged across the yard towards the stoop, a hippogriff in pursuit. Ocellus was far more restrained in her choice to canter up the driveway and over to the steps. She got the impression that while the rest of the property had much to be desired, those who owned it cared enough to provide visitors with groomed paths to the front door. A door which Gallus casually opened for them once they’d all gathered.

“Mares first, heh.”

While the outside at least resembled a typical residence, the interior they entered into could only be described as chaotic. What would have been a cozy den anywhere else looked like a veritable repair shop for all kinds of electronic devices. Carpets had been stripped from the floor, and dividing walls had been knocked down to make room for shelves upon industrial shelves of necessary tools and supplies for a myriad of tasks. From the front windows all the way back to what was possibly a kitchen area, they were jam-packed with wire spools; labeled tubs full of nuts and bolts, capacitors, relays, among other bits and bobs.

Most would have balked at the state of affairs and assumed that this business was run by messy lunatics, but ever having an eyespot for detail, Ocellus could see method in the madness. Under the supplies – buried in some cases – were workbenches which each had a specific theme. The ones closest to the door were set up for soldering and basic repairs if the irons, hot glue guns, circuit boards, and wire strippers cluttering them were any indication. Others were outfitted for more complex operations, with heavier duty equipment like vices and grinders clamped to their sides and an occasional power tool such as a rotary tool or corded drill laying around on their tops.

The one bench which the changeling was innately drawn to had not only been the cleanest, but it was likely the one which saw the most use. The multimeters, bench-mounted power supplies, and oscilloscope among other metering devices served to test out devices brought in either faulty or functional, but to most of the customers that was probably as far as any thought went into it. That was a real shame as just like her friend Gallus, she loved to tinker with computers and other machines, but her true passion lay in the forces which made those machines possible. Whether that was the humble electrical sine wave or the variety of arcane enchantments which make the tech world go round, Ocellus felt compelled to study them as much as possible, and she only wished that more of her peers felt the same way.

Slverstream’s excitement had waned the moment she saw what she’d walked into. While she had matured her curiosity over her time in Equestria to the point of not having to examine every oddity in sight, the sheer amount of things in the space was already challenging her resolve.

“Ah, here we go.”

Gallus brushed past Silverstream and went up to the freestanding shelves in the center of the shop. Vacuum tubes of all shapes and sizes had their connector prongs stabbed into soft foam boards, with masking tape labels on the sides of each. Some of them were of the general cathode variety, but the majority were the standard gem tech design, with gems of many shapes, sizes, and colors housed within. He started examining the listed brands, types, sizes and power outputs of what was on display and Ocellus quickly joined in. But as the changeling made an efficient once-over of the stock, she came to the conclusion that the low-output gem types used in consumer electronics just wouldn’t cut it. What she needed was a specialty component, and it was extremely doubtful it would be found on some dingy old shelf in Ponyville.

“Um, I don’t think any of these will work.”

“Certainly not,” Gallus intoned through the shelf. “These are all for things like fax machines and card readers, but if you look closer–”

He plucked a tube out of the corner of a board and held it out in the light. “You’ll see a little number one on the base.”

“Oh! I see it!”

Gallus may have not been the best at clueing others into things, but Silverstream’s almost frantic pointing gave Ocellus a place to look. She could just squint out a tiny digit stamped into the brass and… nothing else? That wasn’t right.

“Apart from the near impossible chance of kids like us coming across serial number one of anything, these have no other official inscriptions which makes them counterfeit. Which also means–”

The sharp, exaggerated gasp that Silverstream drew in wasn’t something unusual to her friends, it was what usually followed that would sometimes outright astound them or leave them scratching their heads at the very least.

“We just busted an illegal tube smuggling ring! And right here in Ponyville! Do you know what this means guys?! Princess Celestia will give us all the medals for sure!”

“Um, no.” Gallus deadpanned. “Ocellus?”

“They’re made here?” Ocellus ventured.

“And that they can possibly make something special for us?” Gallus finished his rhetorical questioning. “Yeah.”

While the homemade tubes were a promising find, nothing was certain until they could find those responsible for creating them. The sole technician – they assumed – was found in the far back, lounging in an office chair which looked like it served all the little workshops. They were facing away from the entrance, with two stubby black denim clad legs propped up on a ratty kitchen counter. A burly, gray furred right arm was crossed and resting against their knees while a giant left paw fiddled with something strapped to their wrist. Ocellus was interested in addressing the diamond dog and getting down to business, but that mystery device was far more captivating.

It resembled an old, beat up lunchbox at first glance, but given the girth of the wrist it was attached to, it could have passed for a giant watch. A militaristic brown coat of paint covered the body, and all the scuffs and chips on the hard edges spoke of years of hard service. A vertical row of three red diodes in the top right corner would flicker intermittently as the computer it contained ran through its current programming, and two tubes glowed steadily behind a coarse mesh grate.

As Ocellus trod around slightly to get a better view and possibly get the dog’s attention, she was able to see the little game playing out on the monochromatic green display. As a dial was turned on the side, a little bar on that side of the screen moved accordingly to intercept a dot that was flying between it and a similar bar. Despite the crude nature, she immediately understood it as a game of digital tennis, and judging by the score at the top the CPU was having a good run of things.

She also noted that the little analog clock and calendar roll was displaying the correct date and time, which was a nice touch.

The dog was so engrossed in that activity that they did not acknowledge the visitors even when they were well within peripheral vision. A heavy set jaw hung open, revealing a mouthful of dirty canines partially obscured by jagged gums and lips as they breathed out snippets of self-encouragement at the screen which emitted a constant green glow.

“Yesss. Fetch the ball. Get it, get it!”

“Uh, hi there.”

With a startled yelp, the dog toppled over backwards, but was quick to clamor up and right the chair before a sheepish changeling and a bemused griffon. They looked particularly irritated at the interruption and invasion of personal space, but after checking over their device and powering it down that mood changed to one of curiosity.

“Customer?”

The dog immediately entered into a spat of self-grooming, grabbing at the sides of their black shirt and straightening them out, and then patting down the red vest worn over it. With one last shuffle of black hi-top shoe clad paws, the technician gazed down upon the customers with green slitted eyes and grinned in as disarming a fashion as possible.

“S-sorry about that miss! What is that pony, er…, bugpony?”

The tinny and verging on whiny falsetto which came out the dog’s squat muzzle was a bit unexpected to Ocellus even though a few of the new canine students attending school that year spoke in similar tones, but if she was put off by that or any ignorance on the dog’s part, she didn’t outwardly display it. All the dogs she’d encountered displayed similar mannerisms even though this one was clearly a bit older.

“Well, um, miss…?”

The dog waved away the pleasantries. “Names Rover, just Rover.”

“Alright, Rover.” Ocellus softly cleared her throat. “I need a new gem tube for my system. I blew one last night and we’ve been running all over town ever since to find a fix. Gallus saw your ad in the yellow pages and here we are.”

“Yess, we make gem tubes here,” Rover almost hissed at the prospect of good business during a slow winter. “Does, er, do you know what type of tube it was?”

“Yes, I got it right here. Well, what’s left of it at any rate.”

Ocellus reached into one of her parka’s cavernous pockets and pulled out a wad of plastic wrap bound by several loops of masking tape. Once Rover got a hold of it he pulled it apart slightly to get a better look. After staring at the shattered remains for a rather lengthy moment, he closed up the bundle and then opened it up again. Several times he did this, examining the contents with ever widening eyes before glancing back up.

“Do you have any Idea what this is?”

“I…” Ocellus glanced around sheepishly, a sudden bout of self-consciousness overtaking her mind. Gallus was quick to pick up on this and carried the conversation. At least he would have if Silverstream hadn’t beaten him to it.

“It’s just a big gem tube, right?” The hippogriff shrugged. “What’s so special about it?”

“What’s so special?!” Rover yelped. "This is a GemThunder XF-98000!”

Rover didn’t allow the three any time for rebuttal as he started to pace, as though he were a professor giving a lecture, a lecture Gallus was certain he’d given several times before based upon expressions alone.

“Not just a big tube, it was the tube! Light years ahead of the competition! And the gems inside? The purest, cleanest one could find Only around, oh, ten-thousand of these were ever made and half of them went into mainframes. The others that still survive are either floating through gray markets or are held in labs for exhaustive testing.”

As Rover rattled off his spiel Ocellus’s hopes had faded for finding a fix, but the dog had also instilled hope in the fact that there were still options out there. She just needed to know a little more…

“Those that survived?”

“Yesss.” Rover started to excitedly whine through his nose, but he easily caught himself and carried on with spoken word. “Ahem. At the time, the only way to achieve enough magical energy to power a gem matrix was to use a rare gem only to be found in the frozen north. The gem, when exposed to the extreme cold, would take on incredible heat dissipation properties. That was why those mainframes were capable of what they did, as any lesser gem would have fried under the workload.”

Gallus could only frown at that. Rarity and scarcity of components was something he was well acquainted with and the way things sounded this tube was something special. He had no idea how much this would cost, and he doubted that this guy would accept credit, but for the sake of it all he had to ask.

“I take it this won’t be cheap to replace?”

“Well, yes.”

When Rover saw the teens' demeanors wilt slightly he quickly carried on. “A-and no. The thing is at the time those who had the means to find these gems were all at the king’s knees, but with rapid advances in the field more common gems were found which did a better job. Getting them to play nice enough to outmatch it was next to impossible, but that became moot when transistors took the world by storm.”

Rover sighed deeply. “How times have changed.”

The blank stares he was now receiving got his mind back into gear. “Right, transistors. Those were supposed to replace gem tech, but lucky for you they can also keep that tech going. It won’t be cheap and it won’t be pretty, but I can easily build a new tube. Um, where is your computer at?”

Gallus pointed a carefree claw towards the front door. “Just on the side of the road, along with the rest of the gang.”

“Goood,” Rover almost purred. Then almost as though a light bulb went off in his head, his attitude changed to one of concern. “But that means we gotta get it into my workshop quick. Follow me!”

Rover led them a few paces over to a door with a neon sign over the doorway denoting it as one that led to a workshop, and pretty much shunted it open with a shoulder. Gallus couldn’t make out much of the workshop due to the lights being off, but the waft of cool and musky air told him that what they were entering wasn’t nearly as well insulated as the living area. Their guide was now leaning around the doorframe, fumbling for a switch.

“Come on. Light. Light!”

With that shout of triumph at something as mundane as flipping a switch, the shop was bathed in flickering fluorescent light. The technician was already on his paws to accommodate his new customers, stopping briefly by an expansive workbench to turn on some power strips, and then rushing over to a pull chain in a far corner. All it took was a sharp tug, and a portion of the blanket-clad wall started to rise.up.

“Go! Bring your machine inside, don’t leave it out in the cold!” Rover commanded while heaving on the chain.

As soon as the garage door cleared their faces, Ocellus and Gallus headed over to where the rest of the gang was waiting. They made quick work in muscling the mainflame off the shoulder of the road and up the driveway, and their host had done the same in clearing up space for it. Once it, the cart, and all six were in, Rover shut out the cold and bounded across the rough concrete clear to the other end of the shop. By some miracle, the errant dog hadn’t knocked over any of his valuable equipment despite the close quarters.

And close quarters they were, as everybody had to jostle around a bit to find a good spot. It was an immediate question as to what was hogging all the space, and there was no need to look far to find the culprit. The giant wood construction in the back looked more like a scaffold than a desk and the oblong pc monitor sitting on the far end was dwarfed by a neighboring something covered by an old quilt. Next to the right side of this monstrous setup was an indoor planter box, but whatever was growing within didn’t look like the usual garden variety. The reservoir below it meant that whatever it contained needed irrigation, and that was piped up into the box on either end.

If the gang weren’t already collectively scratching their heads, then what happened to be on the left would have cemented their confusion. That whole corner of the shop was stuffed full of pressurized gas cylinders of all shapes and sizes, with the congregation being several layers deep. Some of them had easily recognized shapes and placards, but the majority were mysteries.

No further investigations could be made as Rover needed help to get the gem matrix pieced back together into a workable state, but once that was sorted Gallus inquired about what had grabbed his attention first.

“So what’s with the old Zerox Atlas?”

“That old thing?” Rover barked out a laugh. “It’s what I had laying around that nobody wanted, which makes it perfect for making my, heh, gems.”

Ocellus pursed her lips at that. “How do you make gems here? Don’t you need an arcane laboratory for that? And how do you do it without magic?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that alot. But we dogs have found ways around that.”

Just to emphasize that point, Rover grabbed onto the old quilt which covered half the desk and tugged it away to reveal some kind of industrial apparatus. It had a flat base of rather thick steel, with four square struts situated in the center holding up some kind of small chamber. The struts carried on up to a steel top, and the whole device was surrounded by blast resistant glass.

“Whoa,” Sandbar slowly drolled out.

All eyes except for Rover’s drifted over to the most inventive member of the group as though he held the answers.

“Well?” Gallus was the first to inquire. “You sound like you know something.”

“Actually, I was hoping you or Ocellus could tell me what we’re staring at.”

Ocellus was able to issue some insight. “I’ve never seen a device like this before, but I have seen that setup inside before.” She looked to the one who would know best. “This is what charges your gem tubes, correct?”

Rover didn’t answer immediately as he was engrossed with booting up the computer and checking over some connections in the back, but when the screen came to life he was able to respond.

“That’s right. My whole business is built around this puppy. Most gem techs have one of these, but most of them are around the major cities. I gotta be the only one out in this area, at least as far as I know.”

“Sounds like we caught some luck this time,” Gallus quipped. “Do you think you could clue us in on what you plan to do?”

“Right, I was just getting back to that. The gem tube that burst on you is not just any old tube. They’re all special because of their ability to handle an immense shared workload, and the matrix they create is what allowed those machines to be so compact.”

At that, all the younger sets of eyes settled upon the towering edifice of all their problems that morning. There were many adjectives that had been thrown at Ocellus’s computer, especially on the trip over, but compact was never one of them. Still, they were on the right track so it didn’t pay to complain.

“But,” Rover cautioned. “Finding a direct replacement is next to impossible, even on this continent, so I’ll have to use a common workaround.”

“Ooh,” Sandbar almost cooed. “He’s gonna mod it.”

“Pony speaks as though I intend to cut this fine machine apart and cobble it back together into a new design. Lucky for us, GemThunder products are known for their crazy modularity, even their prototypes. All I should have to do is replace the broken bits with new pieces which should take maybe an hour at most. If you don’t mind waiting here, that is.”

After detailing what his plan of attack would be, Rover went to his waiting terminal and started typing. The old machine clearly showed its age as there was quite the delay between keyboard inputs and their outcomes, and Rover had to peck at the keys one at a time to compensate. Once everything on that end was squared away, he stabbed the return key and moved onto the next step.

That step involved Rover pulling a small enchanted lockbox out from under the desk and pawing through its contents. After picking out a few pretty, precut gems and placing them onto the open space between the gem charger and the monitor, he shrugged and poured the rest of his collection out. After spending a minute or so examining them under the bright fluorescent lights, he had formed a pile of the best and swiped the rest back into their container.

"Yesss," he happily hissed while holding one up to his eye. "These'll do nicely."

Standing just out of earshot, she believed, Smolder elbowed Gallus in the side. "Getting the impression this guy likes his gems."

"Yeah, sure," Gallus half-heartedly grinned. "I'm sure he loves his bits just as much.” He then grimaced. “Hopefully he doesn't taste them after cleaning us out..."

After peering into the depths of the gem, Rover went over to the miniature laboratory and undid the metal clasps holding the top cover down. With the cover set aside for the time being, he pulled out the internal container and seated the gem inside, and replaced both parts in swift order.

The next step involved the things the gang were most curious about. Rover waded into the forest of tanks and hefted one up to examine the gauge on its regulator. With that one cradled in his left arm, he did the same with two others and brought them over to the workbench. There were already three gigantic cylinders affixed to the side and the new additions were set up loosely next to them, where they were connected up to the system as well.

Thirty Minutes Later

After what felt like little time at all, Rover had completed his task of repairing Ocellus’s Gem Matrix. In a process which even she had a hard time understanding, he had charged some specialty gems with the requisite properties fitting their application and then assembled them into gem tubes. Those tubes, sixteen in total, were soldered onto a custom circuit board and the entire assembly was mounted in place of the original single tube and its scorched receptacle.

With all the physical repairs complete it was felt by all that the ordeal was coming to a close. All that was left was to fire it up and see what happened. Seven sets of ears listened for any odd sounds as the machine roared to life and booted through its preliminaries, even if only a select few knew what to listen for.

With that process complete, Rover hunched himself over the terminal and the brief tension ebbed away as he installed the necessary drivers for full functionality. This brought a palpable relief to all present, with excited mutterings barely audible over the din about having solved the problem ringing true. With all that done in rather quick order the technician rebooted the system from its debug mode back to its standard parameters, and took a step back to survey his handiwork.

Ocellus stepped up to also watch the spectacle of the matrix at idle. She knew that keeping her old system going was always going to be an uphill battle due to its rarity and complete lack of official legacy support, but it sure felt nice to see it up and running once again. It did look odd with the mismatched repair ruining any kind of symmetry, but she kept such thoughts to herself. That was merely the cost of entry. Third parties, namely modders and tinkerers, were the only avenues to go down with such devices and her appreciation for Rover and others like him far outshined any small complaints.

The miasma of arcing energy which she was well acquainted with played out its usual dance, and the new addition was no exception. The tiny tubes were quite bright and they pulsed in a sequence all their own. Rover had happily clued everybody in on how the community developed replacement operated and he wasn’t displaying any outward signs of alarm. In fact, the only thing she could detect off of him was the thick caramel of nostalgia, along with the spice of pride and a hint of awe.

“So, what does Ocellus think?”

Ocellus grinned. “It’s working again and on such short notice too. Thanks for this Rover!”

“Heh, it's nothing. It’s been a while since I worked on one of these, sure beats the fax machines and other junk I’m fixing. The last time I touched serious Gem Tech was for a fellow dog a few years back, although with his crazy pink fur and being about half my size I’m convinced he’s part pony. Practically afraid of his own shadow too…”

Meanwhile, in the Middle of Nowhere

Middle of Nowhere was exactly as the name implied. Situated just off the railroad between Appaloosa and Dodge Junction, the scraggly escarpment of land wasn’t well known to those outside the Oatlahoma province as it was greatly outshined by those more successful settlements. Still, plenty of folks had settled in the area, to either have a go at farming or to simply get away from it all, with the land divided up into expansive tracts playing host to modest farmsteads and campsites.

To the Nowhere Post pony making his daily round, the farmhouse up next was just like many others on the block. A rough and rustic two and a half floor building with a crooked steel chimney jutting out of one side of the slanted roof, an open air porch with a green door in the front, and a cellar entrance around back. The farmer who owned it was quite a bitter fellow according to some of the door to door solicitors and he would have to agree. His wife was far more pleasant, and the diamond dog who lived with them was always happily taking deliveries, and it was the hope of most to only have to deal with the latter two.

The rest of the plot had some common sights, such as a tall windmill, barn with a chicken coop next to it, and an old wagon parked in front. That monstrosity, with its green enclosed cab, big axles and wooden stakebed was a fair bit bigger than the one he and his team were pulling into the siding which led past a staked out garden plot and right up to the door.

The package to deliver that day was a wooden shipping crate, one which visited the home every month or so. The warnings branded into its slab sides were oft-putting to those in the sorting office, but they were only cheeky hints at something unnatural housed within. And that something was quite heavy, he noted for the second time that morning as he wheeled it down the ramp with a hoof dolly and dragged it up the steps to the door.

Inside, it was business as usual for the inhabitants. In the living room, the old stallion with a toothless, jutting jaw lounged animatedly in his favorite old red armchair and laughed at the television program in which a pony danced around with bananas stuffed in their ears. His pale yellow shirt with big black buttons and worn olive overalls ill-fit his gaunt frame, with the same easily said for his oversized black shoes. His brown hat with a button on top and panhandle brim fared better clinging to his bald head and round spectacles held in place by a perpetually wrinkled snout and knitted brow.

A stout knock on the front door drew his attention away from the comedic spectacle and in irritation he bellowed towards the kitchen. “Can you get that door?!”

In the kitchen, the elderly mare of the homestead was fast at work preparing lunch. She hummed jovially and gently swayed side to side in sturdy black leather boots, her simple orange frock and white curly mane flowing along as she tended to a skillet of vegetable spring rolls which fried away in a shallow pool of oil. She was balancing that with some potstickers as well along with some diced vegetables with orange sauce she stir-fried in a separate wok. Compared to what everypony else in her neck of the woods would eat, she was always cooking up something new and exciting to enjoy. As she stepped to wipe her steamed spectacles on her bright yellow apron, she inhaled the aromas of what was shaping up to be another great meal, but her helpful assistant could not be forgotten.

At the table, a stubby little diamond dog had been helping to prepare the rolls and potstickers for cooking. His tiny paws may have been caked with flour and his short stature may have only just allowed him to comfortably work all the ingredients together, but that didn’t stop him from humming a happy little tune while tapping the toe of a pink and black trimmed high-top sneaker on the floor. They weren’t the closest match to his unnaturally pink fur but got the job done just fine. As for the tune he tapped to, it came from a pair of repaired Pony studio grade headphones paw-painted pink in certain areas plugged into a clunky portable cassette player clipped to his belt.

“Can you get that door?!”

The obtuse yell from the old stallion drew attention to the knock at the door, and given that particular visitor always showed up on a schedule it could only mean one thing.

“Must be the post stallion,” the elderly mare surmised. “Could you go get that, dear? We’re just about done here, just need to fry the last few and lunch be done.”

Glad to know that good food awaited and eager to stretch his legs, the diminutive diamond dog slid out of his chair and swiftly retrieved a clean towel to wipe his paws on. Unlike some from his species who cared less about hygiene, he preferred cleanliness of both body and garb. The pink short-sleeved shirt, black fleece vest worn over it, and black cargo pants had all been laundered that morning and a fresh set of clothing was a gift in itself. Satisfied with the quick once-over, he departed the kitchen with a spring in his step. The old stallion grumbled in annoyance and disappointment as his view was blocked for a second as his housemate headed for the door.

A blast of freezing plains air struck the dog’s sensitive nose when he cracked the door open, and everywhere else when he stepped out onto the creaky old porch entirely. The moment he’d presented himself, the post ponies set to work unloading a sizable crate from their wagon. The usual stallion who typically made his rounds solo was waiting with some regular letters in his hoof.

“Why hello again. I have your daily mail along with your usual package. Just need to roll through the invoice and a signatory as always.”

The dog accepted the letters into his paw and the stallion produced a clipboard from under his peacoat.

“Monster Master Co. and Phantom Prepper Inc. by-annual cryptozoology database update,” the stallion rhetorically read off the invoice. He glanced up once for assent and upon receiving it through some overexaggerated nodding, continued.

“With phantoms, Spirits, Rituals; in all the many formats you asked for…”

The clipboard was spun around to face the dog, and he wasted no time in grabbing the attached pen and scratching out his signature on the empty line. As he did so, the front door squealed open and the old mare of the house stepped out with a bag of extra food she had prepared just for the occasion in hoof.

“Thank you all for delivering on such a beautiful holiday,” she addressed the stallion with a genial smile. She then patted the dog on his head. “He just loves to keep up to date on all the unusual happenings of the world.”

Being a pillar of their little community (at least in the culinary sense), everypony knew of the old mare’s delicious recipes and she was always happy to share them whenever she could. And the busy stallions were more than happy to receive a hearty free meal for their efforts.

“No problem,” the poststallion waved off any concern. “And as always your cooking smells as good as ever!”

He then bowed slightly. “Well, I’m off. Have a nice day!”

Mail business taken care of for the day, the old mare and dog quickly got back inside to review what had been received. As the warm air and strong aromas returned to his sensitive nose, the old stallion was seen still in his chair, but now he was outfitted with a food trolley wheeled up next to him. He delighted in stuffing his maw with the lunch he’d been pining over for the last hour, but he paused when he saw his housemate and then sneered. He jabbed a hoof at the crate cradled protectively in the dog’s arms.

“If you ask me, that stuff is just a waste of good bits.”

At first it was thought that the stallion was actually addressing him, but his scowling gaze went past the dog and landed on his wife instead.

“I don’t know why you give him an allowance anyway given all he does is spend it on nothing but junk he drags into this house!”

The dog ground his teeth at that one. The disapproving looks were one small thing, but to insult and dismiss his hard work was crossing a line. While he sure wanted to give that ignoramus a piece of his mind, the stallion’s better half came to his defense which boosted his mood slightly.

“Now, now, don’t be like that,” she smiled encouragingly at her husband. “He’s a smart boy after all.”

The old stallion scowled deeply as his wife once again sided with the household pet, but never one to back down, his aged mind came up with a devious ploy.

“You know what?” he grinned crookedly. “You’re right. He is a smart boy. In fact, I even got him a little hearth’s warming gift.”

The dog knew that something was off with such an offer considering who it had come from, but his damned canine curiosity had taken over and was intrigued by what could be in store.

“Hey dog! I got something just for you.” The old farmer made a show of digging under the cushion for something important. “And It ain’t no trash, you’ll like it for sure!”

In a movement which truly belied his age, he spun his entire body to face the dog, head adorned with a freaky mask. The nuclear green skin; giant, garishly purple boil-covered nose, crazy orange and black-striped eye and mouth with nasty pink-tinged teeth would have been revolting to pretty much any creature, but for the dog who didn’t take to scares at all it was terror-inducing. He was fixed in place as his pulse skyrocketed and everything slowed to a blurry crawl, except for the object of horror which stood out in abject detail. The at-that-moment miniscule part of his brain which rationalized fear struggled to reign it all in, but the delivered coup-de-grace dashed any hope of that.

“Ooga booga booga!”

The crate dropped to the floor as the dog screamed and departed it for a moment, jumping up and waving his arms around as the fur they bore stood on spiked end. As soon as his lungs lost air and his paws hit the rug, he frantically scooped up his package and scurried for the stairs while huffing in sheer panic. A thrown glance back revealed the old stallion giggling away only to get thawked in the head with a rolling pin by a scowling wife.

“Ow! What did I do?!”

Any more of that exchange was missed as the dog barreled up to the second level and into the room where he felt safe.

As soon as the door slammed shut the dog leaned all his weight into it. As his panicked breaths abated, they were replaced with soft growls full of derision. That… farmer. After all the times he’d helped around the yard, all the times he’d saved that cruel old pony from certain doom, he still treated him like… like, a stupid dog! But, there was no reason to be upset forever as even in his haste, he still had the wherewithal to bring his mail up to his den.

It may have been small being an attic room, but it was the one place on the farm he had full run of, and it was quite nice for one who preferred the quiet life. With a soft hum, he ambled over to the bed in the far corner and set his box down on the comforter. Quickly producing a small penknife from a breast pocket, he flipped it open and carefully cut through the Monster Master Co. and Phantom Prepper Inc. labeled packing tape.

The Cryptozoology Database was a by-monthly subscription, but at the end of each year they liked to send out some extra goodies alongside the usual magazine and database updates. The first things out of the box were an embroidered blanket with a smiling kirin face on one side and its fiery, snarling nirik alter-ego on the other and a black beanie with I Saw It With My Own Two Eyes stitched into the brim. Those were nice to have, especially the hat if he found somebody in need of some warm clothing, but they weren’t of great interest.

More up his alley were the new posters, rolled up neatly in tubes, which would join his other posters on the wall above the bed. They were prints of photographs cryptozoologists both professional and amateur had managed to snap of elusive cryptids throughout the year and as usual, there were plenty of new creepy creatures to watch out for. Two of the posters were pretty run-of-the-mill compared to some of the crazier sightings, but the third… he had to glance away from it and cough in a rather self-conscious manner.

Well, he felt that one was a little too candid to openly display.

Right under those was the current issue of the magazine which came with all updates. Its cover showed a terrifying situation. A sheep, caught out in the dark and separated from any flock, accosted by an axe-wielding maniac of a ghost silhouetted against a harvest moon. All she had between herself and certain doom was a dryer door she was using as an improvised shield. At least it would have been terrifying if not for her companion.

The wolf to the side of her clutched at what was once a perfectly good pole lamp, but via the cutlery both tied and taped to one end, now acted as a spear. Neither looked like the fighting type, but regardless of that they had prepared themselves to meet the threat with whatever they had on paw, and that was something the dog whole-heartedly stood behind. The subtitle Fight Back! In big bold letters was on the right side of the cover, and the text block below said How to turn common items into improvised weapons and use them against the supernatural!

That would make for good late-night reading, but what he was truly after was in the bottom of the box. As always, he was relieved to see that all the tapes and discs were shipped in individual protective sleeves and weren’t just sloshing around even though he’d never had such a problem with the company. He was also amazed at the sheer amount and variety which this installment contained. His claws gravitated towards the biggest video cassette and he didn’t need to look any closer to know it was a Beta. While nowhere near as popular as VHS, many still used camcorders in the BetaMax format to record events, and was the reason why he had a player in his A/V stack.

In comparison, there were five sleeved VHS tapes which were pulled out and spread upon the bed. It was by far the most common format for recording home movies, but there were even more formats dedicated to audio within. These were two 8-track and three garden variety compact cassettes, a compact disk and a laserdisc all in jewel cases, and that concluded the Cryptozoology Database update.

All there was left to do with it all was to put it in the proper players and those he had in abundance in the head-height rack unit on the other side of the room. It was a repetitive task of ejecting media one at a time from each, storing them away and replacing them with the new ones. Most of what he removed would be sent down into basement storage, but some of the tapes and discs he no longer had use for were rewritable. The company offered a credit towards the next installment for those who returned such media, so he carefully sleeved those up and placed them in the bottom of the crate. And wasn’t recycling all the rage?

As for how all that information would become easily accessible? Well, that was a real point of pride. Each player would have individually required some kind of interface such as a TV or speakers, but with some know-how, all those players could be made to operate from a single source. The mass of cords which almost blotted out the wooden wall were all routed to a spot between the stack and the computer desk where everything got power from an industrial surge strip. All the.video and audio inputs plugged into a giant hub which allowed seamless transitions between all sources via his computer. However, the VCR he possessed couldn’t be operated remotely so he had to get creative with some miniature actuators to physically push the buttons and a tiny logic board to interpret digital signals. He would have loved to have a nice modern player with less fuss, but a combination of short bits and DIY pride kept it at bay.

Also of note were several rack mounts for extra storage at the bottom of the stack along with a bulky printer residing on the floor next to a table leg.

With all the bigger players ready to run their new media, he cast his attention towards the simple wooden table to the left, and the computer residing in the middle of it. It was a rather plain beige desktop design with a stack of three drive bays on the right side of the machine along with a single wide proprietary slot on the left. When the big red power button between them was depressed, the left slot glowed an eerie green from within as it clicked and whirred into life. The monitor atop the desktop was just as plain with a rather thin beige bezel encircling the bubble tube which would be displaying that boot interface shortly.

Around the computer were some basic peripherals like a mouse and keyboard front and center, with a shaded desk lamp on the window side. Under the light was an incredibly crude and boxy device, but what it lacked in form it made up for in great function. A general computer user could usually get away with the internal media drives in their systems just fine, but more advanced tasks could require one or a stack of external drives to augment what was already there. But with the sheer amount of different storage mediums the dog dealt with on the day to day, that many extra drives would overwhelm the tiny table the whole setup rested on.

So he did what any tech-dog worth their salt would do and used his know-how to consolidate them all into one device. The metal box he’d bent into shape was crammed with a plethora of different ports for all sorts of media that ringed its sides, whether they’d be floppy-style formats, data and video cassette decks, readers for various memory cards, and even an old bubble memory slot.

The update of course shipped with a few of those smaller mediums, which he slipped into their respective places. It was just in time for the boot sequence to initiate.

Digger Bios: version 1.1.2

CPU: GemTube Matrix Chip

Booting up GMS ver. 3.0

GUI overlay: Cemetery

A polite knock on the door brought his attention away from the computer. Only one pony in the house had such decency, and the old mare entered with a serving tray balanced on her back loaded up with a plate of still steaming food and a bottle of cola. With lips already salivating, he made space on the desk for both, plucked up a tasty, award winning spring roll off the plate, and popped it into his mouth.

“There we are,” the old mare grinned. “You took off in such a hurry you forgot yer lunch. A little food goes a long way, does it not?”

He only partially agreed. The home cooking was to die for, and considering where he’d come from he’d never shirk a good meal, but that didn’t stop him from still grumbling about earlier.

“Now, I know what my oaf of a husband did was childish and insensitive, but he’s not as bad as you think. My, you should hear him prattle on about all the broken things we find at yard sales and the junkyard and how a certain somebody gets them running just like new again. He's proud of you on some level, even if he doesn’t directly express it.”

Yeah, he snidely thought. Only because he’s too stingy to shell out for anything new.

The dog wasn’t really a talker, but he'd lived with the old mare long enough for her to have a good understanding of all his nonverbal cues, so she was quick to change the topic to something better.

“I see you got some nice things in the mail,” she stated while examining the snarling face and glowing eyes of the nirik blanket. “That’s a lovely quilt.”

“Mmm hmm,” the dog agreed around a second eggroll he’d popped into his mouth.

“Well, I know how much these things mean to you and you’re gonna need energy to get through it all, so I’ll leave you to it.”

With a happy wave from the dog, the old mare departed the room and drew the door shut with a soft click. Not entirely forgetting about his own meal, he picked up a potsticker and dipped it into the orange sauce. The sauce had the perfect balance of sweet and tang, and as it went down left a mild but pleasant heat at the back of the throat. After a minute, all six of the potstickers had been consumed and he was ready to take a break from that and get down to business.

“Well, aren’t you going to run downstairs and give a great big hug to your mummy.”

That nasally, posh trottingham voice which always caught him unaware oozed out the computer speakers, and he almost spat out his mouthful of soda directly onto the monitor. The assistant interface programmed into the gem chip was supposed to aid in complex tasks, but after dealing with its snark for the past few years he was convinced it was much more than a simple assistant.

With a decidedly flat expression, the dog moved his keyboard back into position and typed in his rebuttal.

Just got another update for you and the database.

The computer appeared to mull over this, the activity diode on the desktop flashing rapidly and slowing back down.

Oh joy, another update. You’d think those amateurs would have better things to do then traipse around graveyards and burial mounds, but as always, they don’t. Don’t you know that I’m so intelligent that I look down upon you like I do your junk fifty-six k modem you found in the trash pile you call your hidden gems.

Little jabs were one thing, but degrading insults were taking things too far. There was only one surefire way to settle him down for a bit, and that was only a few command inputs away.

This will shut you up for a tiny bit.

Not bothering to wait for another acidic response, he inputted a string which was so well known to him that he probably could type it in his sleep and mashed return..

UpdateDataBaseM&P.exe

Why you little-

Just like that, the voice was cut off and replaced with an affirming jingle which signified that real magic was about to begin. The activity diode now glowed solid as a multitude of progress bars stacked up on the screen, one for each media device connected. A few of those players had already fired up as the computer seeked out keywords and other information to compile into an easy index to navigate through.

As usual, the computer was taking its time processing the new data, so he spent that time finishing up his meal and drinking his drink. But with things loitering around sixty percent on the second bar there was no point in sitting around waiting. The tapes would only take even longer once they got going and despite the caffeine the urge to take a load off was strong and watching some TV for a bit sounded nice.

The bed was currently occupied, so he took a moment to tidy up by moving the crate to a spot under the ancient workbench at the foot of the bed, next to a stack of technical magazines. Its surface was taken by some tools with many more hanging from a pegboard on the wall, and curiously, some potted plants as well. A tiny tube television with its screen pointed towards the bed also took a decent chunk of space, but with no other choice, that’s where it had to be. The bench also had some thin drawers with just enough space inside for a few tackleboxes full of loose washers, miscellaneous fasteners and spare plug ends, along with a few speciality bit sets as well. The unit as a whole was heavily weathered from years of abuse out in the elements, but still served its purpose as well as ever.

The wardrobe next to the door received the new quilt and hat in one of its lower drawers. For a piece of furniture which had been essentially free, it was more than enough to house a small collection of clothing and any other things which couldn’t just be left out.

The bed was only a few steps away and within seconds he was comfortably reclining against a pillow and watching the grainy picture on the screen. Thanks to the giant yagi antenna topping the house there was no shortage of stuff to watch, even in the middle of nowhere.

What he settled upon was a cooking program detailing how to handle and prepare coconuts. For the next half hour it went through harvesting from the palm tree to cutting the fruit in half and using it as a cup for an alcoholic beverage made from its own milk. The tropical imagery was a far cry from what was outside the window and it brought some warmth to an otherwise chilly space.

Something outside the window caught his eye. It was barely perceptible through the foliage of the indoor planter box, but there was definitely movement out on the snow-dusted prairie. Most would have ignored such a thing and carried on, but with all the spooky happenings in those parts he just had to find out what it was. What he witnessed when those plants were parted caused his eyes to bulge out of their sockets and every hair down his spine to stand on end.

The… creature trudging across the back forty at first appeared to be equine in nature, but upon further observation it more resembled an oddly carved ice sculpture. Misshapen and disproportionate limbs dragged it along to an unknown destination, and those limbs looked like vines frozen in glass. The odd bulges were gourds of varying types and sizes, unharvested and lost to first frost, now encased under an icy carapace.

That was very concerning as there had been news in the area of garden plots being mysteriously wiped clean just after the first snows of the season, but within the body were things a bit worse. Old, soggy jack-o-lanterns were suspended in ice, thrown out to rot just after Nightmare Night only to be cursed with a new purpose. Even the ones with the jolliest carved expressions looked to be existing in misery and the distorted, transparent wall of their prison gave them an almost lifelike character.

It was the head of the beast, though, which was truly terrifying. The giant pumpkin was recognised as the one which had won first prize at the fall fair, and the blue flash of a victory ribbon was tied to its stem. Unlike its smaller compatriots, it initially appeared to have not been carved up for artistic amusement, but that didn’t stop the head from spinning around until its observer was greeted by an expression not created by any paw. It stared up at the window with a neutral air, not necessarily aggressive but somewhat challenging at the same time.

For a few moments none moved, until it shifted its focus onto something else. Its eyes and mouth arched into abject glee when it spied the patch of land which served as the homestead’s garden and it beelined toward it with new vigour.

The keening wail of terror could be heard throughout the house as the dog sounded his primal territorial alarm call. Multiple holographic copies of himself in all the hues of the rainbow sprung out from his sides screaming in unison, only to all snap back to him in an instant.

Back With the Gang

“Anyway, I’m thinking it's time to ring you pups up.”

Ocellus could only assume that Rover was going to lead them all back into the house to discuss payment, but unknown to all in the shop trouble was afoot. As the tubes heated up, so did the gems within, which added to the luminosity in an expected fashion. However, the added light was masking a dangerous feedback loop which was supposed to be dampened by the rest of the matrix. It was also supposed to be picked up readily by the digital control module, but due to the age of all those components none of that was happening.

And then, as though they were a string of firecrackers, all of the new tubes exploded.

Ocellus stumbled back and shielded her eyes with a hoof, mostly from the intense strobing light but also from the glass which shot out of the open cabinet. Gallus was quick to whisk her away from the danger, which was behind the cart. Despite it being still loaded down with some cabling, Smolder tossed it onto its side for a new use as a barricade and the three hit the deck behind it. And then about as quickly as the cacophony of smashing glass and terror began it ended, leaving the shop silent save for some whimpering from most present.

“You-?” Gallus huffed. “You good?”

Ocellus had to blink several times to get her eyes working properly, she saw that it was a puffed-up griffon who’d grabbed her, and she had latched onto him in turn. Smolder had been crouched down beside the two, and even in the chaos she had refrained from glomping on as well.

“I’m good,” Ocellus answered shakily, then frowned. “But I don’t think I can say the same for my system.”

The same old warning klaxon from last night blared into life, causing the three to flinch as they had just started to believe the coast was clear.

“Yeah, now it complains,” Smolder grumbled.

With a little blush, Ocellus relinquished her grip on Gallus and chanced a peek over the cover. The first thing her eyes settled upon was the Gem Matrix, or rather the thick gray smoke streaming out of the cabinet and up to the ceiling. That was not good, and with the magnitude of the failure there would no doubt be damages far exceeding what happened the previous night. Her detached appraisal of the aftermath turned to concern when she saw Rover curled up in a fetal position on the floor, and she immediately vaulted over the cart and galloped over to him, heedless of the little shards of glass which crunched under her boots.

“Shi-shoot, Rover! Are you alright?!”

The keening whimpers from the downed canine meant that he was far from okay, but with a little assistance he was able to reclaim his wits and struggle to his feet. He had the misfortune of not only being directly in line with the matrix when the malfunction hit, but also of having been facing away and bending over to pick up something. Thus, most of the projectiles had found their final resting place in his hindquarters, a fact which became abundantly clear to Ocellus when he scooted towards the door and back into the house in a pained daze, right past a concerned Gallus and Smolder.

“Honey! Honey! Get down here quick!”

“Is… is it over?”

Sandbar’s warbly voice barely carried over the blaring alarm, and Smolder had to pace a bit to locate him. She didn’t spot him directly, but she had no trouble locating the mound of flesh and fur that was Yona huddled behind the gem matrix. An equine head poked over the body of the bigger yak, and when he saw that it was safe for the most part he trotted out to survey the damage, Yona hefting herself off the ground and following along.

“Yeah, I think we're good,” Smolder assured him. “And could somebody kill that alarm?”

“Working on it.”

Ocellus’s number one priority in any situation would always be the safety of those around her, especially that of her friends, but with Rover having run off and most of her friends being accounted for, the only thing she could do was to get the computer disconnected from mains power so that they all could function without disturbance. The klaxon ceased instantaneously when the power was cut, and she breathed a little sigh of relief.

All that could be heard beyond that point was a bellowing back-and-forth going on in the house and an odd scraping sound coming from above. All eyes slowly turned up towards the rafters to see a predatory figure clinging to the wooden supports. It was impossible to make out much more as it was behind the bright lights and wreathed in smoke, but it's less than graceful drop down to the floor gave no time for speculation.

Silverstream may have not been very close to the gem matrix when it exploded for the second time, but she still bore the aftereffects. Her mane had been blasted back and her face and clothing had been stained gray by the noxious fumes, and little puffs of smoke came out of her panting beak.

“I am,” Silverstream flashed her friends a disarming grin and lifted a talon. “I am okay.”

The nasty coughing fit the hippogriff then entered into suggested otherwise, and Smolder went quickly over to pat on her back. “You sure?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?! I got tiny gems in my ass!”

Everything became a bit of a blur to Ocellus beyond that point. Sandbar and Yona had gone into the house to see if they could help Rover. Smolder had opened the garage door to ventilate the shop and Gallus was out in the fresh air with Silverstream.

As the air nipped at her ears while she stared into the cabinet containing the matrix, a feeling of frustration overcame her. Oh, she so wanted to fix the old thing, but it was causing such a stir now that she just wanted to throw her hooves up and gallop away. And not that she had much choice in the matter anyway since Rover had exhausted all his usable gems trying to rectify the problem. No, there was no fixing it, at least not at the time and certainly not at the place.

Thoughts from early that morning about the trouble of keeping an aging system going, especially one which ran on gem tech, were in her mind again and the fact that this time there were actual injuries had turned her resolve away from finding a quick fix. It sounded like Silverstream’s cough had subsided and Rover’s injuries sounded quite painful but were ultimately superficial according to Sandbar, but these were her friends of old and possibly new, and no machine was worth more than that.

There was no need to vocalize her desires to pack up and go home as everyone else had come to the same understanding. Little words were exchanged as they all prepared the gem matrix for its likely final journey and as Sandbar and Gallus were the last inside they closed the door and exited through the house.

Gallus was more than happy to march right out the entry and carry on, his mind already on the next step, but Sandbar felt like something more should still be done. Rover ultimately didn’t charge them anything since he took responsibility for anything that happened under his watch, but the pony felt he was owed something for taking the time to try and fix their problem. A certain friend of his may not have whole-heartedly agreed, but that didn’t stop Sandbar from plucking a few bit coins out of his purse and depositing them on the counter.