Growing Harmony

Slowly, ponderously, Applejack raises her hoof to her neck. She half expects to hear the *thunk* of steel hitting a golden necklace, but her shoe merely presses into her flesh, almost like she’s about to clear her throat and speak. At least, that’s how Flim takes her motion.

“Cousin Applejack,” the salespony pleads, emphasizing their familial tie. He breaks Applejack’s concentration with wild gestures that threaten to turn into a full-blown dance routine despite being surrounded by ponies. “Surely you wouldn’t do something as egregious as charge us the going rate for apples! After all, we’re family, are we not?”

Applejack lets loose a heavy sigh. “Look,” she starts.

“Because if you refuse our generous offer to be partners-” Flim continues.

“-And that would be at your original price for apples-” Flam adds.

“-Then we’ll just have to be competitors,” Flim finishes. “And drive Sweet Apple Acres out of business!”

Applejack scowls, any thoughts of her element shunted out of her mind like cider through a press. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, no?” Flim asks with a wicked grin. It’s not as malicious as one of Chrysalis’, but throw on a pair of fangs protruding from his muzzle and it’d be close.

“Don’t you worry, everypony!” Flam says to the thirsty ponies. “There’ll be plenty of cider for all of you!” It works wonders riling the others up, many shifting from side to side or tap-dancing on tenterhooks at the promise of more cider, especially as much as they can drink!

“You two are family?” Doug asks in a musing manner, interrupting before things can get any worse.

Applejack nods, short and curt, not taking her eyes off the unicorns.

“You’re not the only one who has the misfortune to be related to these charlatans,” Rarity discloses, just as incensed as Applejack at the thought of ruining the business they’ve built over generations.

“Indeed, sister,” Flim says to Rarity. “One might think that after years of herding you’d have managed to talk some sense into them-”

“-Or opened their eyes to other possibilities-” Flam adds.

“-But we happen to know quite a bit about apples and trees.” Flim sighs, shaking his head with a certain resignation. It does a marvelous job of provoking up Granny Smith, the old mare raising her shakin’ hoof.

“Cousin? Sister?” Doug looks at Applejack and Rarity. He manages to distract the two while Granny Smith and Flim square off. “Does this mean the two of you are related?”

Rarity shakes her head. The change in conversation is doing an excellent job of keeping her temper in check. Likewise, it seems to calm the others down, if only a fraction. “Before we formed a herd? Only by marriage, of which studding is a subsection.”

Pinkie Pie pipes up. “I wonder if any of the rest of us are related? That’d be so cool! Like me and Applejack, because we both grew up on farms; or me and Rarity, because we both like rocks, although that might be more Rarity and Maud, although Limestone and Marble are also really into rocks?” Pinkie Pie sits down, tapping at her chin while staring into the sky.

Rarity shrugs. “We all share some consanguinity, being ponies, but anything past second cousins tends to be disregarded. But to your question, Doug. My sire made no secret of his pursuers, and his… inclinations. I suppose that’s where I got my… preference in a partner.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t help yourself, blame the parents,” Doug says with a chuckling smirk, rubbing Rarity’s mane as she rolls her eyes. He turns to Applejack. “And on the Apple side?”

“Auntie Fiddly Twang,” Applejack says with a long sigh. “Not my direct aunt; Ah’d have to ask Goldie Delicious. Not that we care, we’re all Apples. But we always knew she was a weird one, what with the clothes-wearin’ an’ all.”

“Excuse me,” Rarity decries with more than a twinge of annoyance.

“What? We still love her.” Applejack rubs at her chest self-consciously. “Mostly on account’a her fiddle playin’. Mare sure can whip up a tune at the drop of a hat.” She points a hoof at Flim and Flam. “But these two?”

“You wound us,” Flim states melodramatically, holding a hoof to his chest as if a dagger was protruding out. “And here I thought we were family!”

Applejack scowls. “After what happened at the last reunion?”

“Technically,” Flam clarifies. “We weren’t at the last reunion.”

“The last reunion you two hoodlums were at,” Applejack growls. “You tried to raffle me away!”

“In all fairness,” Flam argues. “We tried to raffle everypony away.”

“And we would have gotten away with it, too,” Flim adds, “if it wasn’t for those meddling foals.”

“Again,” Applejack snorts. “You’re talkin’ ‘bout me.”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac booms out in his deep voice, his bulk pressing closer to the two gangly unicorns.

“You’re losing sight of the big picture,” Doug intervenes, feeling like the grown-up towering above a bunch of unruly foals. At least he doesn’t have to physically pry them apart. “You’re family, and you want what’s fair and best for everypony, yes?”

“...Yes,” Applejack agrees, if only after a long pause where the Flim Flam brothers at least attempt to appear contrite. She and the others slowly back away from the Flim and Flam, though their quickly resurfacing smirks don’t help matters.

“So,” Doug says to Applejack. “You’re worried about whether or not the farm can make up the loss in bits. You could do that in volume, selling more cider, or in adjusting the price for bulk sales of apples. Is that also because you wouldn’t be comfortable with somepony reselling your apples or making cider out of them?”

“Daddy resells their apples,” Diamond Tiara cuts in. “So do many stores across Equestria. And restaurants, bakeries, etcetera, all make things from them.”

Applejack ponders for a moment. “You’re sayin’ that if we sold Flim and Flam our apples, they’d go ahead and make cider outta ‘em. And then sell that cider at whatever price they want.”

“Indubitably,” Flim admits readily.

“And if we want to keep the quality up,” Applejack continues, somewhat subdued. “We had best keep this in-house.”

“Well, Applejack, I’m glad you brought that up, my dear,” Flim says, a smile on his muzzle that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But surely you can see that we are very picky when it comes to cider!”

“Perhaps another demonstration is in order?” Flam asks, appearing on the other side of Applejack. “This time of the full extent of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000’s capabilities?”

“Thus allowing you Apples to do what you do best,” Flim continues with a wide motion to the apple trees surrounding them. “Growing delicious, succulent apples just waiting to be turned into delectable cider!”

“Among other things,” Applejack counters. She sighs, the reminder of her passion leaching the vitriol from her like earth pony magic on the fields close to the Everfree. “Ah get joy from growin’ apples, no question ‘bout that. But doin’ all those other things ‘round the farm helps keep it fresh.” She begrudgingly adds, “Just like you two can’t stick to just one gambit, ya gotta keep branchin’ out to new swindles.”

“This is a swindle?!” Doug exclaims, incredulous. “What, you mean like, the magic expires after one use?” He squats down, rubbing his temples. “No, that’d be too obvious. We wouldn’t be hooked. It’d only break down after we’re happy with it, or perhaps reliant on it, especially if we have contracts to meet. Then we’d have to pay through the nose to get it repaired, or overpay for some sort of warranty or replacement plan that ends up costing far more than whatever benefits we might have gained.”

“No, no, no,” Flim reassures as Flam jots down notes. “We built a reliable, high-quality machine to make delicious, high-quality cider! Your own test proves that, does it not?”

Flam adds in a low, quick voice, “Full disclosure of the limitations and constraints of the Flim Flam Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 will be given to certified contract holders of a binding agreement.”

“What was that?” Doug asks, scratching at an ear. “Could I get that in writing?”

“It’s a boilerplate warning put on all industrial equipment,” Twilight explains. “For example, their engine requires a certain amount of thaums to start and then either a continuous connection to a powering unicorn or an external fuel source.” One of her eyes twitch. “Although, most of those are voided by linking other spells, and this one is a doozy-”

“-Of incredibleness!” Flam cuts in, grinning. “Which we will demonstrate to your querying and quaffing delight! Ready, Flam?”

“Ready, Flim!” Flam turns to Applejack, bowing low. “If you would be so kind as to provide the apples, we will be so generous as to provide the use of our machine, the incredible Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, free of charge!”

Applejack nervously glances back and forth, then takes a hesitant step backward. Granny Smith and Big Mac offer no support, their scowls still fixed on the unicorns.

“It’ll be the opportunity of a lifetime,” Flim continues, egging the crowd on. The low drumbeat of ‘Cider! Cider! Cider!’ reasserts itself as he slips between them, motioning to the sky as if Celestia herself is about to descend dragging clouds of cider. “One you’ll tell your foals about for years to come! About how you were there the day that, from that day forward, you never had to worry about having enough cider ever again!”

“What’d’ya say, Applejack?” Flam asks, sidling next to the orange mare.

“Are you going to give up this opportunity?” Flim demands. “For this community?”

“Fine,” Applejack spits out, huffing. “‘Bo, you’ve been lookin’ at the map. Where can we send these fine folks? What’re ya gonna make, a dozen barrels?”

“We were thinking a hundred,” Flim counters nonchalantly.

Applejack gasps, her eyes going wide. They’d be working for days to make that many barrels!

“If not two hundred,” Flam adds, as if they could have promised any number and met that quota without breaking a sweat.

The chant from the nearby ponies continues to grow louder.

“Um,” Pomarbo says, rubbing at his head and trying to remember. He scampers to the opposite end of the road. The trees there, like all the trees lining the road, are heavily laden with apples. “Ah guess we can start here? And work our way to the south fields.”

“That’ll be great for a demonstration,” Diamond Tiara compliments as she follows him, looking up at the apples. Red Delicious, like all the apples on the south field. It gets him to perk up, almost strutting between the apple trees he practically blends into.

The two look up, holding their breath in anticipation, as a green glow surrounds the gold-plated funnel. It hovers over the first tree; a loud, sucking noise accompanies a rush of wind. Leaves, twigs, even whole branches rustle and raise into the air, shuddering back and forth before releasing their burden in a bold affront to gravity. The gray hose barely bulges as the stream of apples flows through, then moves to the next tree in line. A loud series of cheery ‘ding!’s echo among the orchard, every now and again punctuated by a grating ‘errr!’ as the conveyor belt drops a bat-bitten apple. The two large glass beakers quickly fill with delicious-looking cider, and as soon as the level reaches the top they empty into the first barrel.

“Now,” Flim says, admiring his polished hoof as he relaxes next to a slack-jawed Applejack. A barrel sails over them, landing next to Lemon at the cider stand. “About that seventy-five, twenty-five?”

Ponies clamor to be the first to receive a mug, almost at a riot, though a single throat clearing from Princess Celestia gets them to hasten back to their original positions in line.

“Hmm,” Flim says with a smug smirk. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, brother of mine?”

“I do believe that I am,” Flam returns. “Why, who wants to stand around all day waiting for their own mug when we can pick up the pace?”

“All with no drop in quality!” Flim agrees. “Let’s bing bang zam!”

Their horns glow brighter, the rumbling from the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 doubling in volume. The whole contraption rattles as the hose rapidly shifts from one tree to another, vacuuming up every apple in reach.

The Apples can only watch with heavy hearts, their hooves feeling like lead, as their cherished profession seems to slip from their grasp. Would ponies pay a premium for Sweet Apple Acres quality, or even want their cider, after seeing this spectacle?

The loud ‘thunks’ of barrels hitting the ground coincide with the prestissimo of ‘dings’, a lively tune interrupted by a piercing shriek.

At first, nopony really reacts; it seems like just another over-excited filly getting her first sip of fresh cider. But when Diamond Tiara races over, screaming at the top of lungs while pointing at the large bulge traveling along the hose?

“‘Bo?” Applejack utters, confused, her eyes wide. She desperately looks around for her colt, unable to see through the sea of ponies. She bellows, “Pomarbo!”

“Hmm,” Flim muses, unconcerned. “It appears our definition of ‘apple’ was a little too loose.”

Applejack snarls as she spins around to face down Flim and Flam. “Shut it down!”

“Don’t worry, Applejack,” Flam calmly says, leaning back. “He’ll be fine.”

“Celestia help me,” Applejack threatens, only for Flim to brush past her.

Flim taps the window showing where the apples get judged. “Once he gets to this point he’ll be dropped off instead of being sent to the grinder.”

“Um,” Twilight interjects, her eyes shining white as she stares at the window. “Doesn’t that lead to the furnace powering your engine?”

Flim and Flam exchange looks of what might be the only time they’ve ever expressed regret, dashing to the control station and pushing a big red button. The rush of air slows as the two barrels at the end slump to a stop rather than be catapulted.

Yet rather than cease the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 merrily chugs through the remaining apples, the next batch of cider slowly rising in the tanks.