Silken Kites and Hempen Strings
Thunderstorms. How lovely.
As heavy raindrops pounded against the thick glass pane, I began to think of the world I’m currently at. Colorful, beautiful, magical, and, of all things, friendly. The many things this world can do, from natural levitation to annoying Kepler with their celestial bodies.
The sky flashed white, followed soon by a crackle of thunder. Alas, of the many things my colorful friends are capable of, disposing dangerous voltages from clouds seems to not be one of them.
Don’t get me wrong; they are extraordinary! Small, magical ponies, making clouds in a factory made of clouds and mixing many ingredients to manufacture literal rainbows. They are a specimen worth documenting, they are. But, as I’ve said before, they are still with their limitations.
And I--although I won’t say it out loud--am pleased by their inability to rid of electric charges. Such a magnificent phenomenon, bringing back memories of old. Ah, the times I would build a kite just to prove that lightning is, in fact, an electric fire. Glorious times, they were!
Gloriously rejected by many.
I scoffed as I put aside a paper that claimed how a liar I was and brought another from the pile, this time detailing an experiment of how I would’ve died if my kite did got stricken by lightning. How disrespectful. You wouldn’t have those fancy thingamajigs to prove me wrong in the first place if it weren’t for that sacrifice!
Sigh. If only there’s a way to wipe those smug faces with frowns of disappointment. If only there’s a way to prove to them how genuine my experiment was.
The sky flashed white, followed soon by a crackle of thunder. Then a sigh of disappointment.
Not mine, though. I put the paper down and glanced across the table. There, on the sofa, a purple unicorn mare was sprawling awkwardly. Her demeanor shown signs of discomfort and anxiety, her purple eyes glancing here and there, and her head and tail constantly switched positions.
“Is anything wrong?” I offered.
Starlight Glimmer glanced up and met my gaze. “Yes.”
Such straightforwardness; not a lady you meet every day, no. “Why, if I may ask?”
She sighed again and dropped her head to the soft cushion. “It’s just . . . that.” She pointed a hoof at the window. “It’s Friday. It’s supposed to be the one day in a week I can fly my kite, but no,” she grunted, “the new Weather Supervisor just had to plan a thunderstorm every two Fridays!”
I nodded. Such magnificence; for one to be so accomplished in life that one’s worries are arbitrary and insignificant. “It is quite disappointing, for our hobbies to be canceled by such little things as the weather.” I chuckled. “And the weather you can control, nonetheless. It just gives you more opportunity to have the blame on someone.”
Her lips twitched and a smile gave in. She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess.” And frowns again.
I followed her frown. Problems, my friend; it follows everyone around, no matter how accomplished they might be. For me, it was these thrice-damned accusations.
I glanced down and saw the paper claiming death by flying kites. I scoffed. Glancing up, I saw a mare who wants to fly a kite. I raised an eyebrow.
The sky flashed white, followed soon by a crackle of thunder. I grinned. “Starlight,” I began, and she glanced at me, “would you like to fly a kite with me?”
She turned to me incredulously, as expected. “There’s a storm outside!”
“Yes,” I replied, “yes, there is.”
“It’s dangerous!”
I chuckled. “Yes, Miss, it is. But not if you know how a lightning rod works.”
Unexpectedly, her incredulous face turned into one of disbelieve; as if I’d asked her to overthrow the diarchy. “You’re going to put a lightning rod’s spell matrix into a kite?” she nearly shouted. “That’s just . . . suicide”
I raised an eyebrow. “I suppose our lightning rods work in a different way, then, remembering ‘magic’ doesn’t exist back in my world,” I said.
She blushed. “Oh, right,” She began. “But how does your lightning rods work, then? What do you use to repel away the clouds?”
My eyebrow rose higher. “We don’t.”
Her turn to raise an eyebrow, followed by the inclination of her neck’s axis.
I chuckled. “Let’s see it for ourselves, then, shall we?”
We were walking briskly along the school’s alleyways. On my left hand, two rolls of string, one of silk and one of hemp. On my right hand, a Layden Jar I brought from home. By my side, an excited yet nervous Starlight Glimmer, bringing with her a silk kite.
The school was already empty, save a few students mingling about. Most of which glanced confusedly at us, one of which glanced worriedly at us. Starlight assured the filly that she has nothing to worry about.
We finally reached our destination: the science laboratory. I knocked on the door and a voice inside called out, “Come in!”
By the corner, Her Highness is setting up a few brick-a-bracks and magical contraptions. At our entrance, she glanced up from a shelf and greeted us with a smile. “Hey, Starlight! Hello, Mr. Franklin! How may I help?”
I bowed down. “Your Highness.”
Starlight smiled and waved her hoof. “Hi, Twilight! We’re here for some copper wires. Do you have some?”
“Copper wires? Yes, I do, but what for?” She flies to a corner, rummage a bit, and took a roll of said conductive refined metal. As she landed, she stopped at the sight of our kite. “Kites? Starlight, there’s a storm outside.”
“If I may, Your Highness,” I said. “We will be conducting research. I can assure you that precautions have been made.”
“Uh, ok . . .” She handed over the wires to me. “But just to be sure, I’m coming with you.”
The sky flashed white, followed shortly by a roar of thunder. It’s amazing how a simple glass pane can block such deafening noise.
“Ben, you’re sure about this?” Starlight shouted from under the safety of a makeshift tent, holding into the silk end of the kite’s string. Beside her, Her Highness was looking between us nervously.
“Of course, I am. I’ve done this before,” I shouted back. The wind was blowing even stronger than before; clouds rolling like the underside of an angry sea, rain splashing down on my grinning face. I took off my glasses and pocketed them.
A few seconds passed and no signs of thunder. I frowned. “Raise it higher!”
And so it raised higher. A few seconds passed, yet not a single rumble of lightning. What’s happening? Are the clouds out of charges? No, that couldn’t be.
I walked closer to the string of hemp, straightened and still, moving only as the kite moved away. As I put a hand to cover my eyes from the rain, I reached with another to the key--property of Starlight’s office--hanging by the thread. A few centimeters away and--
Ouch!
“Ben! You’re ok?”
“Yes, Your Highness, perfectly fine!” I grinned. “It worked! Did you catch that?”
“Yes, I did. I--”
There was a flash, and then the world went silent.
Silent and white. Perfect white, as the heavens are.
White. White everywhere I see, and nothing to hear but the ringing of an Angel’s Bell. And, among those, someone calling me back from the land of the living.
“--Anklin! Are you ok?”
I found myself sitting on my haunch. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Starlight shaking said shoulder. “Yes, I’m ok. Just surprised.” I rose to my feet. “A thunder stroke?”
“Yes!” She shouted. “I don’t think it’s safe anymore,” she said, pointing at the former Layden Jar. “We should go inside!”
I laughed in triumph.
“Alright, alright. I admit my defeat.” That smug old face which no longer there and is now a smile of amusement said. “Seriously, though. What were you thinking?”
“Science, Albert. Science!”
Einstein pinched the bridge of his nose. In front of him, a wall. Not just any wall, a wall that we use as a media for Twilight’s projection of the footage. A wall of triumph. A wall that proves the legitimacy of my Kite Experiment. A wall that--
“How about now?” a soft noise came from my left.
“Better. Thanks, doctor.”
As the doctor walked away, Einstein continued, “You’ll have to show it in a forum, still. John will be taking your place in a few weeks, so that’s that. And Georg won’t be taking this well.” He chuckled. “Oh, and those guys from a TV show. I think they’re the ones who said you’ll be dead if lightning did strike the kite?”
I chuckled. “Yes, those little rascals. I admire them, though. They have many other claims to uncovering myths, some of them quite . . . amusing, I must say.”
Einstein looked at me, his tone and expression turned serious. “You know we almost lost you, Ben. And in an alien world, nonetheless. A world of colorful happiness and innocence! At a school for even more innocent children! Have you any mind for that?”
“Nonsense! You can always bring me back.”
“I’m not talking about that, Ben. I’m talking about traumas.”
“Traumas? I’m afraid I don’t follow,” I leaned back to my chair. “I cured Her Highness’ trauma if that’s what you’re asking.” I smiled, just now noticing that I've completed more than one amazing feat with a single experiment.
He sighed and looked at the mentioned Princess of Friendship. She blushed. He cocked his eyebrow questioningly.
“What trauma?”
A few moments earlier . . .
As rain splashed across her manic grin, Twilight unrolled her kite furiously. “Can’t see me now, can you, huh?”
As the sky went white, the Ladybug kite burned with heat. Tens of millions of volts ran through its body, its string, and eventually the grounded base.
Twilight laughed maniacally as the scorched remains of a many-eyed monster fell from the sky helplessly, thrashed around by the violent wind.
Starlight and Benjamin Franklin stared worriedly from the safety of the makeshift tent.
Author's Note
Georg Wilhelm Richmann is not amused.
