Ballpen

I woke up from somepony (somehuman!) gently shaking me by the shoulder.

“Stargaze. Hey, Stargaze.”

I raised my muzzle, rubbed my eyes with my hoof, and smoothed my mane.

“Oh.”

A cup of cold tea on the table, stars and the silence of the night (well, by Manehattan standards)...

“Yev'eni?”

“No, the Princess of Friendship herself,” the human chuckled. “Hello.”

I stretched, straightening my numb joints.

“Ouch. It's uncomfortable to sleep at the dining table!”

“That's what I thought too, and decided to wake you up,” the human grinned. “By the way, I brought some treats.

I took a deep breath of the bouquet's aroma. I bit off a decent bunch, feeling how the tart taste of chamomile was offset by the coolness of lemon balm.

“Thank you!” I got off the chair and levitated the glass with the uneaten bouquet into the refrigerator. “By the way, there's fried trout in the frying pan.”

“Thank you too!”

“True, it’s already cooled down... Listen, where have you been?”

Yev'eni, who was lighting a fire under the frying pan, turned around with a puzzled look.

“Do you remember I told you about my little idea today?”

I nodded. He put the frying pan with trout on the stove, disappeared into the corridor, rustled something in his pockets.

“Anyway, I seem to have found some ponies willing to make the parts it needs. To try, at least.”

I stared with interest at the sketches I had seen that morning, which depicted... I wasn't strong in engineering, but it seemed to me that these were some kind of tubes with a pointed end.

“What is this?”

The trout sizzled. Yev'eni placed the pan on a ceramic trivet. I couldn't resist and stole a small piece. The human smiled.

“Writing utensils.”

I looked at my neighbor in bewilderment, then at the drawing. It didn't look like a quill or pencil at all.

“How does it work?”

“Lookhf,” Yev 'eni chewed the fish and moved closer to me.

“This is the outer casing, for convenience. Nothing special, just a plastic tube - however, they are also made of metal or wood. There are screw caps on both ends so that the rod does not fall out. Actually, it's all about the rod.”

He pointed to a thinner tube pictured next to it.

“It's a thin tube, only a few hundredths of an inch in diameter. It's filled with ink. The ink is thicker than the stuff you use, so it doesn't leak out of the cavity.”

“Then how…?” I said in surprise.

"The trick is in this tip," Yev'eni pointed his finger at one end of the tube. The callout showed a close-up of the pointed tip.

“It is tightly attached to the tube. Inside there is a cavity of this shape, into which a tiny ball is inserted, to which ink flows through channels. When you move the tip over the paper, the ball rotates and leaves a line on the paper.”

“Compared to a pen, it’s somehow difficult,” I noted doubtfully.

The human shrugged.

“The main difficulty is that you need to press the pen harder to the paper to leave a line. Well, that's what I heard. They also say that writing suffers because of this. Although, as for me, the quill’s using likes chicken scratching. It's a matter of habit, I guess.”

“Well, it sounds interesting, of course... But what's the point? In Equestria there are no difficulties with quills and pencils.”

“Yes, but unlike quills, it’s virtually impossible to make a blot with this pen,” Yev’eni objected hotly. “And you don’t have to mess around with blotting paper and sand. And you can hold it any way you like, and it’ll keep writing. Well, unless you turn it upside down, of course. And besides, it doesn’t leak at all.”

My ears suddenly stood up straight.

“What, what? Repeat!”

“Uh... It doesn't leak. Well, unless the rod or tip is not broken. The tube is too narrow, and the capillary effect prevents the ink from leaking out. You can even put it in your pocket and carry it around.”

I looked up at the human. I had to turn my head to do so, because we had been sitting side by side for a long time, our foreheads almost touching over the notebook.

“Yev'eni! Are you talking about a quill that you can carry around? And not be afraid that it will spill? That you don't have to sharpen or mend?”

“Well, yes,” Yev’eni looked a little surprised.

I broke into a smile.

“The Manehattan World reporters would pay any money for something like that! You can't carry a quill and inkwell with you, and pencils have a bad habit of breaking and wearing out at the most crucial moment. I'm okay, I have to work with sketches anyway and can't do without pencils, but the reporting department will kiss you for it! Forgetting that you're a human being!

“Better with money,” he chuckled.

I looked at the drawings again.

“And you figured out how to do something like that here? In Manehattan?”

Yev'eni sighed.

“It's not that simple. It won't be a elementary assembling from ready-made parts. The main difficulty is that the tip must be very precisely adjusted in size. The ball must rotate freely in the socket, and the ink must flow freely to it, but at the same time - not flow out. Jewelry precision and adjustment of the ink composition are needed.”

“Won't the regular ones do?”

He shook his head.

“Too liquid. You won't get a clear line with them. In general, you'll have to make several batches, refill and test different types of ink.”

I propped my muzzle up with my hoof.

“You know, I could chat with the fillies in the printing department. We have a couple of good chemists there who specialize in ink. Too thin, you say?”

“Well, yes.”

“Maybe we should experiment with thickeners,” I suggested, wondering what I would use if we were talking about paints.

“Clay or marble flour... No, it won't work, it will clog the canals. Maybe an oil base? Or gum arabic?”

The human shrugged, sliding his shirt sleeve over my cutie mark.

“I can't even imagine. I know that the composition should include glycerin, but I'm not sure.”

“And did you come up how make the details?” I asked.

"At least I found a pony willing to try," Yev'eni said. "We're going to meet up Thursday night and discuss it in detail."

I raised my head.

“Can I come with you? Please!”

“Yes, you're welcome!” laughed Yev'eni. He casually ran his hand over the back of my neck, ruffling my hair.

The touch sent a wave of warmth across my neck and shoulders. I gasped, recoiling.

“Ouch!” Yev'eni blushed like a tomato. “Damn it, Stargaze, I'm sorry! It was completely automatic!”

“It... it's nothing serious,” I squeezed out, blushing myself. “I... apologize. I still haven't really woken up. I'll probably go wash up and go back to sleep!

“Y-yes, of course,” Yev’eni muttered. I darted into the bathroom and quickly put my head under the cold water.

Oh Equestria! Is my heat schedule out of whack?

Well, of course, I had nothing for six months since breaking up with Fast Type, and such things happen... It's all a glitch in my schedule! And that vulgar Tabitha with her stupid jokes!

What are you even thinking, you stupid mare? He's not even a pony!

Although lately this hasn’t even caused any sidelong glances…

“Pfft!” I stuck my head under the stream again. And held it there long enough to drive away the stupid thoughts!

The light of electric lamps filled the small cozy cafe. A couple of earth pony waitresses scurried between the tables, there were a decent number of people. On the wall hung several sconces in the form of horse heads, a couple of zebra masks.

“Mister Komarov!” the red earth pony at the nearest table jumped up and bowed. “Glad to see you.”

"Likewise," Yev'eni responded with a bow. "Mr. Arrow, this is Stargaze, my neighbor."

I nudged Yev'eni's thigh lightly. However, the earth pony either didn't notice the imprecise usage of the name, or didn't think it necessary to pay attention.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” he ceremoniously touched my hoof.

"Stargaze has some ideas for my little project," Yev'eni explained. "We decided it would be more convenient to discuss them together."

“Your project,” Bronze Arrow pulled a huge folder of papers from his own mane. “By the way, you still haven’t told me what you’re going to use these devices for.”

Yev'eni gallantly pulled out a chair for me and sat down himself. As if by magic, a waitress appeared next to me. I limited myself to coffee and salad, Bronze and Yev'eni each took a mug of cider.

“Devices,” the human said. “Basically, it’ll be a writing device. Like a fountain pen, only…”

“Writings?” Bronze opened the folder and stared at the plans. “Oh, now I understand. This is a reservoir for ink, and the central ball releases it under pressure? Right?”

“Absolutely.”

"What a wonderfully simple idea," Bronze said thoughtfully. "It's odd that no pony has suggested it before."

"There was no pressing need, I suppose," I suggested. "But I'm sure Yev'eni's idea will be in demand. Enough that ponies would know that such device is possible!"

Bronze studied the drawing carefully, tapping his hoof on the table and narrowing his eye.

“I made a test sample,” he said, taking out a small box from there. “But now I’m beginning to think that it alone won’t do the job. We’ll need to understand what tolerances we can allow when carving the tips and grinding the balls, what the percentage of defects will be… Meadow muffins! We initially planned to use hardened steel, but now that you’ve outlined the task… We need to think about the material. If the loads are comparable to those that fall on metal pens…”

"More," Yev'eni interrupted. "This thing has to be written under pressure, so that the ink flows out."

Bronze shook his head.

“Then even more so. Perhaps lead brass... Or bronze alloys? Maybe we'll even have to order cast parts instead of turning them... We need full cycle of testing.”

"And the ink," I intervened. "We don't know yet what kind of ink to use. We might have to experiment with that, too."

“Not probably, but definitely,” Yev’eni noted.

Bronze chuckled.

“Well, the more difficult the task, the more interesting the solution, eh?” he raised his mug.

“For difficult tasks,” the human responded.

He placed his hands on the table, palms down. He leaned forward.

“And now the most interesting question,” he said. “How much will all this cost?”

The earth pony grinned.

“I'm afraid I can't give you an estimate right away. I need to sit over the catalogs, I need to sketch out a process chart. And in any case, we're talking about a new product. We'll only be able to understand the budget when we have a clear understanding of all the stages and materials.”

“And roughly?”

The pony half-closed his eyes.

“From twenty thousand, I think.”

Yev'eni had excellent control of his face. I knew that this sum exceeded his gold reserves by two orders of magnitude, but I would never have guessed from his calm gaze. He opened the box and took out a thin, pointed steel tube. He looked thoughtfully at the tip, which sparkled in the electric rays by the tiny ball in a steel frame.

“It’s noticeable,” he said. “Mr. Arrow…”

“Just Bronze!” the pony corrected him this time.

“Okay, Bronze. So, can you recommend a credit agency in this city that would agree to deal with a human? And, if possible, not one that collect a debts with hooves?”

I touched his hand.

“Yev'eni, that's not necessary. I can take on the conversations with the moneylenders.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Stargaze, I don't really want to get you into debt.”

“Oh no! I'm a grown mare and I can decide for myself. And I like your idea. I want to take part in it!”

Bronze chuckled.

“Well then. In that case, I am ready to do the manufacturing on my equipment for free. And even, perhaps, to invest in purchasing materials at my own expense within five thousand. But on one condition.”

“Go ahead.”

“We split the profit three ways.”

Yev'eni thought about it.

"Shake!" he raised his clenched fist over the table. Bronze lightly hit it with his hoof. A second later, I joined the brohoof.

"I suppose we need to formalize this somehow," the ргman said. "Register a company, put up some initial capital. How do you do it here in Equestria?"

Bronze shrugged.

“Come to the mayor's office, register a trading company. In our case, we'll all have to come together. Since we're going to trade retail, we'll have to wait for the royal inspector to visit and get permission to sell. Well, that's all. Although I might have missed some details. My workshop is my father's inheritance, so I might not know all the nuances. It's better to consult a solicitor.”

“We’ll decide that, I think,” Yev’eni waved his hand. “By the way, what should we call the enterprise?”

The pony chuckled in confusion.

“Mmm... ‘Komarov, Bronze and Stargaze’?”

“It’s a bit long,” Yev’eni said doubtfully.

“Human quills?” I suggested.

Yev'eni laughed.

“Man is an animal without feathers,” he noted. “Hm-hm-hm… In our world, such devices were called ‘ballpoint pens’…”

"Yev 'eni ballpoint quills"?

Then just "Ballpoint Quills". Sounds short and sweet. Who's for it?

“I'm for it.”

“Sounds good,” Bronze agreed.

Yev'eni looked around at us.

“All great deals began with the phrase, ‘Well, screw it, let’s try,’” he said, smiling. “For the success of a new endeavor?”

“If that’s the case, then bring me some cider too,” I decided.

“One second,” Bronze turned away to call the waitress.

Yev'eni leaned towards my ear.

“Why were you pushing then?” he whispered quietly.

“Oh,” I answered in the same whisper. “When you use a two-part name, don't use ‘Mr.’ or ‘Mrs.’ They only say that when they use the pony's last name. And with double names, either just ‘Mr.’ if you don't know the pony's name, or the full or short name.”

“Oh. Got it.”

“It’s okay if I correct you?”

“Of course, thank you!”

“To tell the truth, even most ponies get confused about it now. These are old customs, even before the Hearth’s Warming. Back then, earth ponies used family names, and unicorns and pegasi used double personal names. Over a thousand years, everything has become mixed up; now you can meet a unicorn with a family name, and an earth pony with a double name. But if you move in business circles, such slips of the tongue can... Well, spoil the impression!”

“Well, let’s not split the skin... ahem, oats from an unsown field,” Yev’eni chuckled.

“Hmm,” Bronze reminded himself.

We raised our heads like schoolchildren, blushing.

“I apologize, Bronze. I was taught the language through magic, and sometimes I get confused with the choice of words. So I asked Stargaze to correct me from time to time.”

“Well, I wouldn't say so. You have a pretty good pronunciation, for a non-pony.”

“Thank you. By the way, I've been wanting to ask for a long time, if it's not too personal...”

“Yes?”

“Many ponies - even you, Stargaze - have marks that match their names. And you said you get them when come of age?”

“Not really,” I shook my head. “The mark appears when a pony realizes what kind talent he has. Usually it’s somewhere between eight and twelve years old. I got mine when I was eleven – I took a sketchbook, climbed onto the windowsill and started drawing a snowy yard.”

“How does that happen? You were named Stargaze Winter, and the mark is the same. Does a name determine talent? Or did your parents somehow know in advance that you would be an artist?”

I shook my head.

“My case is just a lucky coincidence. My parents actually hoped that I would become a magician, that's why they named me that.”

Yev'eni looked at the cutie mark in surprise.

“Names associated with celestial bodies - stars, the Moon, the Sun, and so on - are traditionally associated with magic,” I explained. “But in general it varies. Sometimes ponies change their name when they receive a mark, unicorns and pegasi - more often, earth ponies - less often. Sometimes the name and mark are related from the very beginning, especially when the foal inherits a family talent! And finally, in earth pony families, they often give a name associated with the family, and the family surname.”

“It’s so complicated,” Yev’eni chuckled. “Okay, for success and new beginning?”

“For success.”

“For success. And you still owe me a story about Earth, Yev'eni!”