Ballpen

I stared at the blue-green lacquered wand.

“Oh.”

On the back of the stylomeсh a design was applied with silver paint. Several stylized snowflakes, a star and an eye.

“This... is this my cutie mark?”

“Yeah,” Yev’eni nodded with a smug look.

In fact, the drawing was done rather sloppily, the lines were uneven, the paint didn't go on very well, and there were specks of dust and unevenness visible under the varnish. But I wasn't going to say that!

“Great! Thank you very much.”

“Nothing great,” the human shook his head. “I can see that the quality, ahem, is lame in both legs. I haven't done this for two years, my hands are out of the habit. That's just proofof concept, as they say.”

I pulled the brass cap off the stylomech with telekinesis. I drew a few lines and put a signature.

The ball glided across the paper no worse than a goose quill. Well, I had to press a little harder to get a clear line, but it wasn't essential. I twisted the stylomech back and forth, turned it over, shook it. Then I pressed it to the sheet and waited. The device wrote as if nothing had happened and didn't even go to leave a blot. I rubbed the line with my hoof - and couldn't smear the ink.

“It worked! We did it!” I hung on Yev'eni's neck first, then on Remy's. Bronze, laughing, hit the human's fist with his hoof.

“Yes!” Yev'eni looked pleased, like a parasprite in front of a big mountain of apples. And we all broke into smiles.

“I thought,” he said, “that for stylomechs with the owner’s color and cutie mark, you can charge extra. Make two lines – one simple, sand and varnish, and the second – paint, apply a mark and, maybe, even a name.”

Bronze clicked his tongue.

“Good idea.”

“That's for starters,” Yev'eni continued enthusiastically. “And then add some collectibles, rosewood, ebony, what else can you get here?” He grinned. “Maybe even gift one to your ruler.

“Well, for now it’s just a cooking of apples before the growing of tree,” Remi cooled his ardor. “They won’t pay much for such quality.”

He winced.

“Of course. I quickly sanded and varnished it with a brush. We'll make the sales samples as required, with polish and dipping.”

Bronze scratched his head. The earth pony was thoughtfully watching the tests of the stylomech, sitting on a stool and glancing at some of his notes with one eye.

"And that gives me an idea," he said. "How much are we going to charge for these things? If they cost much more than the quills, the idea won't work."

Yev'eni nodded vigorously.

“We need a business plan. Pricing and other bullgift. How much will it cost us to produce one stylomech?”

“Hm-hm-hm,” Bronze bent over the notes.

“I tried to calculate,” he said thoughtfully. “The main expense item is turning the units. The tolerances are very small, Celestia knows, the percentage of defects will be huge. Plus materials, plus the cost of rolling the balls... Plus the cost of wages for the workers... Although I'll give you my nephew, the guy is good with his hooves.”

“It doesn't matter. We're not going to pay him half price just because he's your relative. Besides, we need to base the salary on the market if we plan to expand the business in the future.”

Bronze nodded.

“In general. If this were my entire part, with the entire assembly, I would estimate the cost of the refill and tip as eighteen bits.”

Yev'eni turned to see Remy leaning on the workbench.

“Reagents and the work involved in their production?”

Remi thought about it.

“I didn’t count in such detail... Well, let’s take two bits for the chemicals and another bit for the work of the craftsman...”

Bronze shook his head.

“Then let's take the monthly expenses. To calculate the salary in full and compare it with the loan payment.”

I leaned forward.

“Why should we even count salaries? Are we going to pay ourselves?”

Yev'eni chuckled, but then immediately became serious.

“No, Stargaze, Bronze speaks the truth. We need to include all expenses in the price, without getting tied to a man... well, to a pony. Well, let's say, so that if we open a new workshop, we don't have to recalculate the price anew. Then, if anything, we'll simply subtract our own work from the costs of the product and take it into account when dividing the profits.

"Then," Bronze returned our attention, "let's take the cost price based solely on materials and depreciation. If we calculate it that way, it's about ten gold bits per refill."

“Plus two bits for reagents, plus two for wood, varnish and paint,” Yev'eni picked up. “Total... total, relatively, fourteen bits each. Well, let's add up to sixteen for the machine's work. And other consumables. This is the cost price for material costs,” with a satisfied look, he made a mark in the notebook with a freshly made stylomech.

"Now for the salary," said Bronze. "We need a worker to roll the tubes and turn the units, to grind, roll and harden the balls. Although... I'll probably take on the balls myself, the line has been idle lately anyway, so we'll make do with one pony."

“I still have a hard time imagining how we’re going to soundproof the grinding machine,” Yev’eni nodded.

“So one pony worker plus one chemist for making ink.”

“Well, now a full-fledged chemist is not really needed; even a worker can handle a ready-made recipe,” Remy corrected him.

“Okay. And one pony for filling, assembly and crimping, one for turning, assembly and varnishing the body. Another pony for painting, if we really want to implement this idea with personalized stylomechs.”

“Well, that's too much,” Yev'eni shook his head. “We don't have a conveyor method yet - the same pony can handle painting and finish assembling.”

“Well, let it be so. In a month we will make... If we understate it to be on the safe side, about a thousand. That's sixteen thousand.”

“And four workers... That's another six thousand bits, with no-frills.”

“Plus rent, that’s another sixteen thousand.”

“Plus payment to the seller, another thousand.”

We bent over already scribbled-on by Yev'eni's stylomech notebook.

“Have we forgotten anything?”

“There are also taxes,” Bronze noted. “But here we need to understand what the turnover of the entire enterprise will be.”

Yev'eni drew the line.

“So the total expense is thirty-nine thousand plus one thousand two hundred for the loan payment. Oh, and another thousand for the patent, although that's a one-time expense. Well, let's round it up to account for unforeseen expenses. Forty-two.”

We exchanged glances.

"Forty-two bits apiece, pure cost," Yev'eni muttered. "That's just an expense. How much do we want to make a month on this?"

The fur on Bronze's forehead bristled.

“I earn enough from my workshop, and I’m interested in the work itself,” he said. “But to work for the sake of the ideals of Friendship…”

Remy shrugged.

“I would like to have at least three a month. Otherwise, I don’t see any reason to leave the editor office. But I’m ready to wait a year until things take off, and get by with two – two and a half. But we sort of included some money in the price calculation, taking that into account, I’m ready to get by with a thousand.”

“I'm about the same! Well, one and a half thousand is enough for me without taking into account other expenses, I'll cover the rest from fees!”

The human looked around at us.

“Okay, let's start with one and a half thousand per brother,” he suggested. “While we're getting the case going, and we're working ourselves. Plus six thousand in total. Bronze, how much tax will we have to pay for this case?”

The earth pony laughed.

“Good question, Yev'eni! When I'll see my accountant, I ask her to calculate. If by eye,” his lips moved, he was silent.

“About four and a half thousand, taking into account sales tax, income tax, and nine hundred social tax. Well, about six thousand to be on the safe side.”

Yev'eni also thought about it.

“Sales tax – is that the one on the price of the pen?”

“Well, yes. But don't rack your brains, the royal tax farmers will recalculate in their own way anyway. Let's include the approximate size in the price and calm down.”

“And this gives us... this gives us...”

“Fifty-six bits for a stylomech,” Remy was the first to count this time.

We looked at each other again.

"What do you say, Stargaze?" the human asked cautiously. "Will ponies pay that price?"

I thought about it. I looked around Bronze's workshop, the tools lying on the workbench, the wooden blocks neatly stacked in a corner, the locked cabinet with chemicals. I stared at the flickering fireflies in the lamp, as if searching for an answer.

“Well...” I finally squeezed out. “If to think about it... The best Pegasus quill costs that much or a little less. But it's the very best, the kind that court calligraphers and secretaries write with.

“This thing may be more convenient, but you still need to get used to it,” Remy agreed. “And a regular quill or pencil is much cheaper!”

“On the other hand! How long will the stylomech write before the ink runs out?”

Yev'eni became very thoughtful.

“Uh... A quarter of a mile? If in a day, then that's... Well, somewhere around three or four weeks? Depends on how much you write to them, obviously.”

“If you take ten pages a day, about two weeks, perhaps,” Remy clarified.

“Well, you have to change the Pegasus pen once a day if you don't write very much! And how much does a spare refill for the stylomech cost?”

Bronze and Yev'eni exchanged glances.

“I see what you're getting at. Twelve bits at cost price, plus workers' wages... Well, somewhere around seventeen or eighteen bits, roughly, twenty considering profits.”

“But we can fill them with ink and give them back to customers, then they will be even cheaper!”

"If we take the cost of the reagents, assuming that we've recouped the rent and other things from the handles, then it's five bits apiece," Yev'eni muttered wearily. "Stargaze, keep in mind that the refill won't survive more than three or four such recharges."

“The worst goose feather is twenty cents apiece!” I objected. “In six months to a year, the stylomech, taking into account the money for ink, will pay for itself with a surplus! And if we are talking about those customers who need good quills - they will pay for themselves in a couple of months!”

Yev'eni looked at me very strangely. He stood up, went to the door frame and pressed his forehead against it.

He made some strange sound - either a mooing or a coughing.

“Yev'eni? Are you okay?” I asked worriedly.

“Well, how can I tell you?” he muttered in a choked voice. “Remember when you showed me how the princess raises the sun, the first time?”

“Eh???” I honestly tried to figure out what this had to do with it.

“I have a similar feeling now. I'm definitely in an alien world. And not because you have horns and hooves.

Because you're telling me now that a ballpoint pen is a product whose purchase will pay for itself in six months. On my Earth, it's easier to buy a new one than to remember where the old one went.”

He peeled himself off the doorframe. Only now did I realize that the human was holding back hysterical laughter.

“Hey, hey,” I stood up on my hind legs and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, we understand.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Okay, let’s get down to business.”

He glanced at the pony. Bronze was scowling at the notebook. Remy looked slightly confused. I still didn't want to admit that our idea had flaws. Especially when the finished stylomech was lying on the table in front of us!

"So?" Yev'eni asked, leaving the doorframe and sitting down on the edge of the workbench. "Any ideas on how to optimize costs?"

I jumped up.

“Listen!”

“Stargaze?”

“What if we use magic? There are spells that allow to transform one object into another! Hire a unicorn who knows them, even if not to create the entire stylomech, but only the most complex parts?! It would probably be faster than doing everything with a hoof? After all, here you need to transform metal into metal, without any transformations of weight or structure...”

Bronze sighed very heavily.

“Stargaze. Do you have any idea how much a transfiguration magician’s work costs?”

“Well…”

“The average - and that's right, the average - transfigurator gets paid in a month what I don't earn in six months with my workshop. That's average. Because it's impossible to hire a good one. You can count them all over Equestria on the hooves of a couple of ponies, and their contracts are usually bought out by the largest cartels and factories while they're still in their senior years at SGU.”

He took a breath.

“Of course, we can look for it. But it won't lower the price, it will raise it. About five times.”

I sadly lowered my ears. Feeling awkward - an earth pony was explaining such nuances to me, a unicorn!

"Any other ideas?" Yev'eni asked, looking around at our group again. I wanted to think of something, but nothing else came to mind. Bronze and Remy looked at each other with thoughtful expressions on their faces.

“Speak up, ponies!” I encouraged the people instead. “It's called "brainstorming" - when ideas don't come to mind, you have to start with the craziest ones! Don't be shy!”

Remy snorted.

“The craziest, you say? Well, let's go to Canterlot and put up an advertising banner in front of the princess's palace. Then our product will definitely be noticed and pony will start buying it.”

Bronze gave a strangled grunt.

“An advertising stand on Canterlot Avenue, and in front of the palace? Well, in a hundred years we'll even recoup the cost...”

“Shh! Yev'eni, maybe something from human inventions?”

He shook his head.

“Yes, I already remembered everything I knew. Well, maybe we can fight back with the scale effect, once we reach large volumes, and before that, we can cut expenses on our own dividends. But that, you understand. One big "if".”

“Then maybe...” I froze.

I turned to Remy.

“Listen. It's not Canterlot, of course, and it's not the princess's palace, but I was still going to offer the stylomechs to our stuff. I think they'll give us a discount on advertising, especially if we lower the price for them?”

“Advertising makes the product more expensive,” Yev’eni muttered. “Although you’re right, we can’t do without it. And we’re barely breaking the margin even as it is. Okay, at first, while we’re launching, we’ll have to spend money, and then, you see, we’ll recoup the cost thanks to our fame…”

He jumped off the workbench.

“Well, what? Any other thoughts?”

But this time, it seems, the supply of crazy thoughts has come to an end. Although...

“I can also make sketches in graphics, and we will put them up in the store! I am sure the ponies will be interested, especially if I write that they are made with a new tool!”

Bronze raised his hoof.

“And you will explain to the tax collectors why paintings are sold in the stationery shop. Although you can declare an additional type of goods, the duties there are small..”.

I smiled.

“I've dreamed so much about having my own art shop! If the ponies come to us, I won't have to give a percentage to the art gallery!”

The human grinned.

“I don't rule out that your paintings will have more success than my stylomechs. We'll have to give up everything and retrain as a gallery ourselves.”

I nudged him lightly with my shoulder.

“You will praise me too much!”

“There's a reason!” Yev'eni playfully returned the push.

Bronze tapped his hoof on the workbench.

“Okay, allponies and allpeople. In principle, the plan is clear, I suggest we go home. And in the morning, we'll meet at the city hall with the documents and the whole company. Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Yev’eni agreed.

A line of ponies stretched from the doors of the ancient two-story building. Not too long – halfway to the entrance to the park – but we were unlikely to get free quickly! Far above the rooftops, the Crystaller Building rose, sparkling. The gilding on the statue was ablaze.

The central dome was crowned with a statue of a rearing earth pony. A flag fluttered over two pointed turrets to the left and right. A new one, with a stylized purple alicorn with outspread wings against the background of the luminaries. The last time I passed by the town hall, the old diarchic banners were still raised. However, that was... that was... almost a year and a half ago! Celestia, how time flies!

Oh, what's so surprising? In the old days of the return of Luna, I was more concerned with school grades and admission to the art academy. But I remembered some of this story. When the Diarchy was declared, only to turn into the Triarchy a few years later, which in turn gave way to the Throne of Friendship, someone in the heraldic commission came up with the idea that the number of stars on the flag had not changed since the Nightmare Moon’s banishing. And Equestria, meanwhile, was growing!

When redrawing the flag, a dispute arose about which towns and villages were worthy of being placed on the canvas, and which were not. And in such a way as not to offend anyone, but not to turn the banner into a continuous illegible mess! Once, the princess's approval slipped through two projects at once, so the country lived under several flags for six months.

In general, with all this fuss, one should be surprised not that the flag was changed. But that the mayor's office found time to bring them to a common denominator!

We took our place at the back of the line, in front of the marble portico of the entrance and the statues of Smart Cookie and Meadowbrook in the niches. The ponies ahead waited stolidly, some eating a sandwich, some leafing through a newspaper. Bronze and Yev'eni began leafing through their folder of business documents once again, to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything when they left.

I yawned furtively. The thought flashed through my mind to go to a bench in the park. But as luck would have it, the line moved slowly enough to tire me out with the wait – and quickly enough to make it impossible to return.

Remi was bored too. She moved closer to me.

“Do you think Darling Print will bite us when we announce our quitting?”

I shrugged.

“I doubt it! He certainly has a tough character, but he only gives dressing down when it's necessary. And what do you have to worry about? You're not under his command, after all.”

“That’s true, but I’d like to keep a backup plan in case the idea doesn’t work out.”

"Cheer up!" I advised the earth pony. "Who starts a business with thoughts of defeat?"

“Careful ponies,” Remy muttered.

“Don't worry! A good chemist will find work in the city, especially now. And in general, more faith in our luck!”

“I see you’re even more enthusiastic about the project than Yev’eni,” Bronze chuckled.

He smiled.

“Well, somepony has to motivate us.”

The line moved slowly. Finally, we passed the oak doors and found ourselves in the vestibule, in a narrow corridor of forged bars. With a small window in the grid. At the exit from the corridor, two guards in armor were bored, another one, already without armor, was on duty at a table behind the bars.

“Show me your ID and stick your foot in here, filly,” he ordered in a duty tone.

I gave him a measuring look.

“If you let the ponies through without your stupidity, the line would be four times shorter!”

"Dear pony, that's the order. Put your foot through the window, please," the guard ordered without any malice.

Still indignant, I obeyed. I felt the cold touch of the ointment. The swamp-smelling substance hissed, scattering green sparks across my fur.

“Come in,” the guard returned my documents. “What is the purpose of the appointment?”

“Registration of the enterprise.”

“Third hall, from here to the left.”

Bronze and Remy went through the same procedure stoically. But when the guard saw Yev'eni, he was clearly at a loss.

“Are you... Are you going to an appointment?”

“Absolutely right. We are together,” Yev'eni pointed at me with his gaze.

“Okay, just a minute. I have to call the boss.”

“They've done this to me before,” Yev'eni said. – In the Committee. By the way, what is it for?”

The pony apparently didn't hear him - he just picked up the bell and rang it loudly.

"Sir, wait a moment and let the next ponies go ahead," he ordered.

I stamped my hoof in irritation.

“I can guarantee that Yev'eni is who he says he is! Why wait again?”

"Pony, we have orders," one of the armored guards said soothingly. "We are not to blame for the delays."

I pressed my ears back, but didn't object. After all, taking out your anger on innocent guards wasn't pony-like either.

Luckily, at that moment a fourth guard appeared, a short earth pony of about fifty years old.

“What do you have here... Yeah, I see,” he leaned toward his subordinate’s desk.

“Here's the directory. Here's the list of species that fall under the general action. Here's "humans," on the fourth line. Do a standard check and skip.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Thank you,” Yev’eni bowed briefly. The ointment sparkled on his hand.

We walked across the oak varnished parquet floor through the wide vestibule, under large panoramic paintings on the history of Manehattan. Reproductions, of course, but I must admit, high quality! The town hall was decorated with copies of Pleinair List, Girtia O'Huffe, Sea Sketch... Who knows, maybe one day there will be a copy of my work hanging there?

However, this thought did not relieve the irritation.

“They say,” I lowered my voice, “that under Celestia, any pony could always make an appointment with the mayor and present their case in person. And not like now, marinating at the entrance, and then in front of a bunch of officials!”

“Well, listen,” Bronze said soothingly. “These guys can be understood too. We are in a state of war, after all.”

Yev'eni turned around abruptly.

“War?!”

“Oh!” Remy spoke at the same time. “Look, ponies, I think we're coming this way!

Luckily for us, there was no need to wait this time – there was a free seat right at the entrance. I dropped into a chair with relief – my legs were numb from standing in lines. Bronze and Remy occupied the adjacent seats, taking one from the next table, Yev’eni remained standing.

“How can I help you?” The official’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the human, but she didn’t show any more of her surprise.

“We want to register a company,” Yev’eni said.

“You?”

“Me and my friends. I have an official residence permit from Committee,” Yev'eni showed the form.

"Well, that's allowed," the fawn earth pony with the paper scroll on her hips said uncertainly. "Okay, let's see... Here's the form, fill out the application for now."

Yev'eni looked longingly at the quill and inkwell. I came to the rescue and snatched the quill with telekinesis.

“Dictate!” I knew that he had already gotten used to using them, but his handwriting was still so-so, with lots of blots, and the human did not write very quickly.

Actually, we had an idea to take the stylomech with us. But at the last moment we changed our minds. There would be time to brag about the new thing to the ponies later. And the government agency might not appreciate the innovation and refuse to accept forms filled out incorrectly.

Pony rustled her papers. She studied the drawing of the stylomech made by Bronze for a long time, asking clarifying questions several times. Then she began to write something herself.

“Here's a request for inspection,” she handed the sheet to Yev'eni. “Take it to the second floor, they'll set a time for the visit. Here's a receipt for payment of the fee, the cash desk is in the first hall. The patent department is also on the second. I understand that you know about the permit from Committee for the trade in human goods?”

Yev'eni smiled.

“I know where their office is. You could say I'm a frequent visitor there.”

“Excellent. Come here with permission from the inspector and a receipt for payment, and in two days you can pick up your certificate,” she ran her eyes over the form we had signed, nodded with satisfaction and put it away somewhere in one of the folders lying on the table.”

We headed towards the stairs. Yev'eni cleared his throat.

“And what did you say about the state...”

“Stargaze is right, there’s clearly more bureaucracy here,” our chemist interrupted him again. “Why so much running around offices, why can’t everything be done in one go?”

Yev'eni chuckled.

“The one-stop-shop principle, as we called it. It's still pretty good here. All the offices, except Committee, are under one roof, no need to go to the other end of town for every piece of paper.”

Outside the window, rain pounded. Streams of water hit the trees and roofs, washed away the cobblestones and asphalt. Thunder rumbled in the sky above the city. The few ponies hid under raincoats and umbrellas.

The Pegasi didn't do this kind of downpour often, usually a couple times a year, in early spring and late fall. To clear the roads and sidewalks, first after Winter's Wrap, and then again before the new winter. Cloudsdale was already heating up the snow lines of his famous factory, preparing to cover Equestria with a blanket of snow. There were a couple of weeks left until the winter season.

“So, here... be careful... Done!” we piled the second display case onto the windowsill, the human manually, I - helped as much as I could with telekinesis. We had to tinker with it to get it through the space between the windows, and then carefully varnish it. And the ebony wood of the display cases cost a pretty penny. But Yev'eni insisted on the expense, noting: "If we already have a dead-end point, then visual visibility is even more important!"

I opened the box with the stylomekhs. We managed to make about fifty of them in two days of hard work with breaks for food and sleep.

However, when this work will be done by four ponies instead of two (Yev'eni with work in the theater joined only at the end of the day, Remi was absent on personal matters, and the main part fell on me and Bronze) - the pace will increase! According to our estimates, it would have to be increased at least twice to pay for itself.

The stylomechs sparkled with enamel and varnish. I painted about twenty of them "to the cutie mark", taking mine, Remy and Bronze as a model. Whether ponies will buy stylomechs with other people's marks is, of course, a question! But they were needed first and foremost not for sale, but to attract attention.

The rest glowed yellow with polished wood. We simply sanded them, rubbed them with oil wax and varnished them too, sealing the holes and dipping them in varnish, then leaving them to dry. Then we assembled them by unscrewing the brass caps and inserting the fulled refills.

The sound of hammers and the screech of a hacksaw could be heard from the warehouse. It was Bronze and his nephew covering the walls with cotton wool, with Remy helping out. We left the grinding machine, capable of deafening with its hellish grinding noise, despite the insulation, in the workshop, but decided to put several small ones in our workshop – for turning the bodies, rolling tubes and some other operations. Moreover, according to Bronze, he did not have any free space for all our equipment. So there was no way without soundproofing!

“Ahem,” Steel Gear, a beige earth pony with a brown mane, stuck his head out from behind the doorframe. “Excuse me, Mister Komarov! Uncle asks for help with the exhaust, it needs third hooves... Oh, sorry, I meant "hands".”

“One second,” Yev'eni straightened up, wiping away the sweat. “Stargaze, will you put them in the display cases yourself? I think it would be better to put the personalized ones in the windows and the regular ones on the counter.”

“I think mixed. Let the ponies see right away what we have to offer!”

“Well, whatever you say, you’re our artist,” the human agreed. He dove into the back door.

“And by the way, Steel! Please call me by my name!” I heard.

“Okay, Mr. Komarov... Oh.”

I finished laying out the stylomekhs. I looked at the display cases with a critical eye.

It seems pretty good. At least, if I were passing by, I would definitely want to know what they sell here!

Rising up on my hind legs, I hung my framed drawings on the walls (Yev'eni had hammered in the hooks beforehand). They were very simple sketches, a few basic silhouettes on sheets of paper – a fir branch, a snowflake, a flower… But what was more important was that I was drawing them with a completely new tool!

Well, that's it. All that's left is to connect the water to the second sink, in the lab, connect the machines, install a workbench for Remy, draw and install a sign - and the shop will be ready for work!

There was a knock at the door.

I shuddered.

“Who's there?”

We were expecting the inspector's visit only tomorrow!

I rushed to the door, throwing it open.

“Oh!” exhaled a middle-aged, mousey earth pony with a green mane. “Thank you so much! Such a downpour, and I completely forgot about the pegasi warning! Can I sit with you for half an hour until they drive away the clouds?”

“You're welcome,” I looked around. “I'm sorry, but we can't even offer you some tea! You see, we're doing some renovations...”

“Oh, nothing, nothing!”

The pony looked around curiously. She wiped her hooves on the rug and shook herself – carefully, so as not to splash me.

“Are you opening a new shop?”

I nodded.

“Yes. We will have a small shop here selling...”

The pony was no longer listening, looking behind my rump.

“Greetings, Miss or Mrs...” Yev’eni bowed reservedly.

“Uh... hello to you too, mister. Excuse me, but who are you?!”

Yev'eni smiled politely.

“You may have heard of my kind. We are called "humans".”

The filly twitched her ears.

“I... yes, I heard.”

“We want to sell some of the items of human use,” I quickly intervened before the guest blurted out something inappropriate. I pointed my hoof at the display case.

The pony glanced at it timidly.

“These... these are human devices? What do they do?”

“Look here,” Yev'eni tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, took one of the stylomechs from the display case, and quickly wrote a few words.

The pony turned her gaze to the sheet of paper. Now with interest.

“Does it write? Is it some kind of pencil?”

“Rather the quill! Look, there's a miniature inkwell inside. And at the tip is the mechanism for feeding the ink. And unlike a regular quill, until the ink runs out, this thing doesn't need to be sharpened or dipped in ink! And the ink can't spill out of it, even if you hold it upside down!” I blurted out.

“Curious,” the pony murmured. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course,” Yev’eni handed her the stylomech and the piece of paper.

The pony grabbed the smooth stick with hoofkinesis and wrote a few letters on the paper. Or rather, tried to.

“Press a little harder,” the human prompted her. A second before I wanted to say the same thing, I had already gotten used to the new device.

The earth pony thoughtfully studied the sheet of paper with its even blue lines of letters.

“Hmm,” she muttered. “And how much does such a thing cost?”

"Only fifty-six bits apiece!" I blurted out with a confidence I didn't feel.

The filly twitched her ears again.

“Oh... you know, a regular quill costs, ahem, much less...”

“But how many goose feathers do you use per day? And the stylomech will serve you for years, and all you need to do is change the inkwell inside! And it costs only twenty bits, while it lasts a hundred times longer! And the old inkwell can be recharged, and it will cost only five coins! - I hotly objected.

“Mmm... Well, maybe, maybe...” the filly opened her bag. - Well, I think I would buy one thing from you. I want to surprise my friends with a human thing. You know, when you said "human items", the first thing I thought of was some kind of scary weapon.”

We exchanged glances.

“Especially for you, as the first client, we will make a discount of up to fifty,” suggested Yev'eni. “And for an additional twenty bits - we will make a personalized stylomech for you, with your name, cutie mark and the color of the wool.

“Oh, that would be nice, but I don't have enough money for that. However, I'll tell my friends about your shop, maybe someone will be interested,” the pony promised.

“Excellent!” Yev'eni wrote something on the sheet of paper again. “Here is our address, mare.”

He put a dozen large five-bit coins into his own wallet. He handed the stylomech to the pony.

“Oh, thank you. Well, I guess I won't bore you any further. The rain has stopped, so I have to go.”

Indeed, it was no longer pouring outside, but just drizzling. Water was still trickling down the sidewalks, but mostly it was coming from the gutters.

“Thank you for visiting Stilomech of Stargaze! We look forward to seeing you again!”

“Thank you too, gentlecolt,” the filly disappeared behind the door.

I turned to Yev'eni and shook my mane.

“«Stilomechs of Stargaze»? I thought we hadn't come up with a name yet!Э

The human chuckled.

“Well, the name should have rhythm and consonance. "Stilomechs of Komaro" sounds worse. By the way, congratulations on the first sale!”

“ That's right!” I cheerfully nudged him with my shoulder.

Bronze, who appeared from the utility room, snorted.

“Actually, we don’t have the right to trade until we receive official permission.”

Yev'eni shrugged.

“We'll record it in the accounting as a sale on the opening day. This isn't a crime, is it?”

The earth pony sighed.

“Mainly don’t mention this to the inspector.”