Ballpen

“ What are you doing?” Alyatara's curious face leaned over my notebook.

I involuntarily shuddered and tried to cover the leaves with my hand.

“Oh!” pony blashed. ”Is this a secret?”

“ Uh... It’s not that. Look if you want it," I murmured.

Alyatara thoughtfully studied my handdrawing.

“It looks like some kind of a sketch,” she held out thoughtfully. “What is this?”

I slowed down.

“It is... one of my little ideas. I ask for forgiveness. Will you not be offended if I do not tell you in detail yet?”

Alyatari's eyes widened.

“Well... I'm not going to be offended. I am surprised, perhaps.”

“ Yes, I am not sure that it will work. I want to think through everything first and check it out, and then brag about it if it pans out. And to not jinx it, of course.”

The unicorn laughed.

“I did not think that humans are superstitious.”

“We can be different,” I smiled.

“ Maybe you'll tell me?” Alyatara was interested. “Now I will suffer from curiosity.”

“I am an alien conqueror. I am supposed to make suffer poor defenseless ponies.”

Alyatara came forward.

“ Understandably. These are drawings of terrible human weapons. With its help you planned to capture all of Equestria, but I unraveled your insidious plan!” she cried out.

I grabbed my head dramatically.

“Oh no, my villainous plan is on the verge of collapse! But I know how to make you shut up, little brave little unicorn!”

“And how?”

I reached to the door of the refrigerator.

“Treat with cupcakes”

“Pfft!” Alyatara snorted, just like a real horse. “Cupcake at twenty minutes to midnight? Don't even ask. I will stand firm and not succumb to temptation.”

“ You know what?”

“Hmmm?”

“You are not so fat.”

“This was the most terrible compliment that somepony gave me for the last twenty years” Alyatara stomped her hoof on the parquet. “I go to sleep. Don't stay too long for villainous plans.”

“Yes, mommy.”

Instead of answering, she stuck out her tongue.

I brought two thick folios to myself. The first one was named "The catalogue of commercial enterprises, trading houses, public institutions and offices of the city of Manehattan". The second one, less – "Universal Annual Catalog of ironmongery and manufactured goods".

It's strange that they don't have telephones here. It's like on our planet the first telephones appeared ten years earlier than the lamps. Or am I confusing something? And there is a radio - I saw with my own eyes on one of the central streets a shop window with bulky radio receivers like a large suitcase.

Well, we'll think about the invention of telephones later. Send letters? No, too long and lot of troubles. I will have to run.

Yes, but how? If half of who meet me are looking at me how about an alien monster?

Okay, stop panicking! I had gone not once to a meeting with buyers who sign a deal at the 10-digit sums without looking (well, twice is also counts! Even if at the first meeting my task was to sit with a smart look, take note and change the slides in the projector in time!). And I cosplayed there "The Wolf of Wall Street", selling them the pens. In the literal sense, among other paper and office nomenclature. Am I not up to the task of charming a couple of talking cathorses from a pastoral-idyllic world with princesses and castles?

Hold on, Equestria! Image is nothing, thirst is… oh, it seems from another story.

But I really wanted to drink. I got up and pour water from the carafe. I went to the window and looked at the lacework of bare branches in the moonlight.

That means I have to work on my image. I have first ideas. It's a pity, of course, that I'll have to collect some bills… But it's stupid to save on entertainment expenses.

It's good that I didn't sneer at work on weekends, so that they're unlikely to look at me askance in the theater if I ask for a couple of breaks during the day. Fortunately, we have most work on weekends.

And it’s very good that I prudently did not touch the bits received from Marko. Limiting the settlements with Alyatara for food and shelter (unicorn kicks it out by all the hooves).

«Stinky Bottom's Discount Hat Emporium welcomes ev… eh… khm… welcomes… any kind of buyer!” a heavy earth pony of a light-orange color stared at me in both eyes, but still he found it in himself to finish the welcoming speech.

I was amazed at his massive chin. Covered with red hair and coarse black bristle.

Come on. I see a pony with a beard growing for the first time.

“Hmm!” salesman reminded about himself.

On his side was seen the image of a purple cylinder, exactly like the one that adorned his head - specially chosen, probably.

“Good day. I would like to buy a hat.”

“Hat?” the merchant stared at me, as, perhaps, we would have seen on Zabrak or Krogan who have gone to a shoe store for a pair of boots. “Emm, and does your species wear hats, mister?”

“Finally,” I tried to give a more charming smile. “Otherwise, why would I buy it?”

“It sounds logical,” the pony scratched the back of his head with his hoof. “What purpose do you need a hat for?”

“To wear?” I assumed. Other variants of its use were not presented to me at all. Although... this is Equestria, who knows what is supposed to be done with hats, according to their cultural models? Maybe they use them as a trash can? Or do they keep sandwiches in them?

“To wear,” the pony nodded. “Understandable. But how? When? Why? Do you need an elegant sombrero for a picnic? A bowler for a walk along the Bridleway? A top hat for a trip to Madison Mare Garden?”

“I wanted to... something for business negotiations. You know, that's it” I waved my hand in the air indefinitely, as if lifting an imaginary headwear.

“Business negotiations. Oh yes, I know what offer to you,” the merchant turned around. Critically studied the rows of hats of all shapes and sizes, hanging behind the shelf.

“ Welcome!”

He picked up with his teeth a stick with a wooden hook at the end. With its help he took off one of the hats hanging under the ceiling and held it out to me.

“In this felt hat you will look like Fancy Pants himself, I'm ready to bet.”

I looked at the hat. It was soft, gray, with a blue ribbon around its neck. I twisted it in my hands.

“ Hm,” I demonstrated to the seller a stain of unclear origin from the bottom of the field.

“Oh, yes, this is just dust!” the seller grabbed the hat with one hoof and began to wave it with a whisk. The stain stubbornly did not want to disappear.

“Then how about this bowler?” spitting out the broom and not at all discouraged, he grabbed the hook.

It looked better already. Solid black velvet, no stains and scuffs. I put it on my head, turned to the mirror.

Hmm. A gray business three-piece suit (which came at the cost), a bow tie, a bowler. I look like a middle-level mobster from the "Godfather".

Only sandals on the feet spoil the impression.

What to do. To find normal shoes in a world where there are no plantigrades types as a class - that's quite the task. No, it is possible to order from a shoemaker (or how are they called manufacturers of hoofshoes?) sewing on order - if I could afford this service. A pair of sandals that was honestly won by Philip at the card and matched to size perhaps are the only shoe in this part of Equestria. Don't count the shoes of Philip.

Well, okay. Fortunately, the ponies themselves do not suspect that light sandals are not exactly the kind of shoes in which I would decently appear at a business meeting. But the meanings of hats was known for them well.

«How much is it?”

“ Seventeen bits.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“ It seemed to me that these were second-hand hats.”

“The new one would cost twenty,” the pony let out a very high-quality VHS. ”Alright, mister, from attention to you - fifteen.”

I think I understood the rules of the game.

“Well, I don't even know. Maybe I should go to Flea Market, find something that I can afford...”

“Twelve gold bits and one silver one, - he cut off the pony. - Or you can actually search on the market.”

I didn't bother anymore and reached for money.

The light gray earth pony behind the reception desk looked up at me in fear.

“Good evening,” I politely raised my hat, sincerely pleased with my decision not to save money.

“G-good evening, mister,” the secretary muttered. The familiar gesture, however, calmed her down; she pulled some ledger towards her, turning around.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” I put on my most charming smile. “But I’d like to talk to your management. About a prospective order.”

“Do you want to sell something?” the ledger slammed shut.

“Oh no. Buy something. If your company can make what I need.”

The earth pony looked confused. Well, that was logical. My appearance and my intention to buy something clearly didn't go together.

“Okay,” she muttered at last. “I’ll let Mr. Sandfield, our supply manager, know that you’d like to speak to him. If he’s free, he’ll see you.” She rang a small bronze bell. A small earth pony colt, shorter than my waist, appeared, and the secretary scribbled a few words on a post-it note and handed it to him.

I sat down on the bench, trying to project confidence. I began rereading the newspaper I had bought on the street for a silver coin. The first two pages were entirely devoted to debates about the selection of delegates for some event called the "Grand Equestria Summit." Then there was an advertisement offering anyone interested to buy advance tickets for a new tour by Songbird Serenade (a local pop diva, I assumed).

The foal messenger appeared again and whispered something to the secretary. She glanced sideways at me.

“Follow Bright, he will take you,” said the earth pony.

Mr. Sandfield was not in his office, as I had expected, but in one of the workrooms, a room with a great many cylindrical shafts on massive stands, with belts sliding behind safety grates, and dark gray sheets flying out of the shafts and slapping onto the conveyor belt. Earth ponies were milling about, turning valves, pulling levers, pushing carts, and generally not paying much attention to me.

I cleared my throat.

“MISTER SANDFIELD?”

“GREETINGS, SIR! - the pony yelled back over the hum of the machines. - ONE SECOND... OK, TAR STAIN! I NEED THE FINISHED SHEETS IN THE WAREHOUSE BY THE END OF THE DAY! IF YOU CAN'T...” he finally noticed the wide eyes of his pony interlocutor, turned around and looked at me more closely.

“HELLO!” I shouted, raising my hat.

"ERR... ONE MINUTE, SIR," Sandfield barked, having recovered from his surprise. He returned to his conversation with the pony in overalls, or at least that's what his - and everyone else's - clothing most closely resembled.

Finally, having let go of his interlocutor, who galloped off to the other end of the shop, Sandfield turned to me. He pointed with his hoof toward the exit from the workshop. I readily followed him, not wanting to strain my vocal cords. We stopped between the office and the production buildings, next to a cobblestone path.

“Er, good afternoon again, sir,” the pony looked at me with interest. “I was informed that you wanted to speak with me. Frankly, it is not every day that representatives of your kind come here on business matters. I would say, never.”

“Oh, yes,” I put on a polite smile. “Sir, my name is Evgeniy Komarov. I am planning to organize in Equestria a small production of some household items that my people use. In connection with this, I would like to buy some parts for them from you. If you can make them.”

“Hm. And what do you wish to purchase?” the pony looked interested.

I pulled out a notebook of sketches from my pocket.

“Look. I'm interested in two kinds of plastic parts. The first is a plastic tube about six and a half inches long and a third of an inch wide, tapered at one end and threaded at the other. The second is a thinner tube, five inches long and about four hundredths of an inch wide, with an internal channel about three hundredths of an inch wide.”

The pony grabbed the drawings with his hoof and looked at them closely.

“Plastic?” he asked, frowning. “You mean they change shape when you press them?”

Damn. The translation spell must have malfunctioned.

“Not exactly. I meant made of plastics.”

The pony's gaze became puzzled.

“I don't know what you call it. Synthetic material. It's extracted from oil,” I strained my memory, recalling half-forgotten chemistry lessons. “By distillation of gas fractions and polymerization, I think that's what it is.”

Sandfield nodded thoughtfully.

“From the description it looks like synthetic shellac. Well, we could make a batch of such parts, although the deadlines, deadlines and suppliers... Is it important to you that the product is made of synthetic shellac, or will regular shellac do?”

I shrugged.

“It will come into contact with printing ink. Will that have any effect?”

"It shouldn't," Sandfield muttered. He pulled his own notebook out of his mane (what the hell?!) and leafed through it. "Well, we have a supplier and a small line of equipment. What lot size are you interested in?"

“A trial is a hundred or two. And then we can go up to several thousand a month” I felt in my gut that if I answered "A few pieces to try", they would politely say goodbye to me.

“Yeah,” the pony nodded. “Well, a week to develop the project, a week to buy raw materials, and in another week we will be able to provide a pilot batch at twenty-five bits apiece. Although this is just a rough estimate, for exact figures I need to consult with the technologists.”

There must have been something in my expression that gave me away even to the ponies.

“Are you surprised? Shellac is an expensive material. It is not produced in Equestria, supplies come from Hathistan and Shire Lanka. And I am talking about the usual one, the synthetic one would be even more expensive. Earthy naphtha is a very rare substance, all over the world it is mined in a couple of oases of Saddle Arabia, then it needs to be brought in, a distillation unit needs to be built... In principle, it would be possible to use changeling resin, but you understand, with its import everything is generally on the verge of impossible.”

I nodded.

“I understand. Thank you for your consultation, Mr. Sandfield. It is quite possible that I will contact you with an order when all the technological issues are resolved.”

“Oh, as you wish. Here is my business card,” the pony handed me a rectangular card. Oddly enough - not paper, but something like thick black rubber, with a raised embossed font.

As I left the office of Equestrian Rubber and Paint Manufactory, I tried to be optimistic about everything.

After all, in our world, a stranger who showed up for a meeting with the factory management with sheer impudence and paper sketches in his pocket would have been politely shown the door. But here, they listened to me and politely explained the weak points in my plan.

But what now?

In principle, the body can be carved from wood. It is not even necessary to go to the factory for this - just have a machine and a workbench. Judging by what I saw in the workshop, there should be no problem with such things in Equestria.

But what to do with the rod?

I strained my memory, searching for scraps of knowledge. I used to do this as a hobby, and even though I did the final assembly from purchased parts, I studied the issue.

The rod can be made of steel. The only drawback is that it will be more expensive, and it will be more difficult to control the ink consumption. However, more expensive is not about Equestrian conditions.

If so, there is probably no need to order the unit and the rod separately. It is quite possible to simply insert one into the other and crimp the end. If, of course, the local engineers can handle the precision I need.

And anyway, the next item on my plan was the ironmongery factory. Well, let's go!

This time I was met in the office. At a table of green cloth, with a pile of folders and heavy leather bindings, with a massive forged inkwell. The red-sand earth pony sitting behind it cast a dark glance at me.

“Mr. Komarov,” she said through gritted teeth. “We do not cooperate with…” she paused, as if choosing her words, “with intelligent beings who are unable to provide references from respectable and honest ponies who have gained fame in business circles and are ready to vouch for their solvency with their own reputation. And considering that you, by your own admission, have been in Equestria for almost a month, I would venture to assume that you are unlikely to be able to secure the support of such guarantors in the near future. And even more so, it is not profitable for my enterprise to launch a project for the sake of such small volumes that you are talking about. I am forced to ask you to take your leave.”

Without showing any annoyance, I raised my hat.

“I hope that one day we will meet in a more business-friendly environment.”

“Very unlikely.”

Well. Such a reaction was to be expected. Okay, it's not night yet. But I need to make a note to myself - first of all, go around small workshops. Large factories are really unlikely to be interested in toiling over a small order.

Ideally, it would be a good idea to find a normal local consultant. Even for Equestria, such a method – running around potential suppliers and asking who would agree to make the necessary part – probably looks terribly archaic. This would probably only work in the our nineties – and even then, at most, in the early ones. Find a smart pony who knows the ins and outs of Manehattan, rent an office, a place, a small shop, hire workers – and launch the product.

There is just one "but". If you do everything as it should be - the gift from the pirates will be enough for the first point at best. I've familiarized myself with local prices enough.

If so, then get going and go. After all, what do I have to lose?

“Brass and steel, huh? Sorry, sir, but we don't do pipe rolling,” the chestnut pony glanced sideways at me for just a couple of seconds, and then continued to urge on the workers carrying a huge pulley across the factory yard. Some mysterious letters were glimmering on it with a blue phosphorescent light, which the unicorn in overalls was examining with concern as he walked.

“We don't work with non-ponies.”

“We are not interested in small parties.”

“Daisy Leaf won't be able to give you attention today. Come back another day.”

“We don’t have the equipment with the required precision.”

“No.”

“No.”

“No.”

“We can make brass tubes and tips in a couple of weeks, it’s not difficult in principle. But steel parts… We don’t have machines of the right size even for such thin tubes, not to mention turning the channels shown here!”

“No.”

“Contact Torsion Balance Instrument Shop, maybe they can make something similarЭ

“Hm-hm-hm,” another earth pony with a mark in the form of two balls connected by a thread raised her head from the tiny shiny copper details laid out on the linen tablecloth. She studied my sketches with interest.

"Do you really need that much adjustment?" she asked. "Am I reading this correctly? The gaps really need to be hundredths of an inch? And such a complex shape?"

“I'm afraid so. You see, it's all about the capillary effect.”

“I understand,” a blue and gray lock of hair swayed, escaping from under the kerchief. “And may I ask what these parts are for?”

“To be honest, it's a corporate secret. But in general, it will be... something like an improved ink tank,” I came up with an explaining on the fly. And I didn't even really lie.

“I see,” the pony tucked her mane back under her kerchief. “You know what I'll advise you - contact the workshops that repair and make watches. Such precision is their specialty, you'll have to work with a magnifying glass.”

“Thank you very much for your advice, Miss Balance,” I said warmly. It was probably the soundest idea I had been given today.

"I'll even give you the address of one of the craftsmen," Torsion scribbled something on a blank sheet of paper. "Here. His name is Bronze Arrow, and he works two blocks from here. Sometimes he does precision machining jobs for us."

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

"Oh, you're welcome," Torsion smiled. "Share what you have, the princess says."

Bronze Arrow was a middle-aged earth pony, red in color with a dark red mane and a cutie mark in the form of a clock face. When he saw me, he jumped up abruptly, almost knocking over the workbench he was working at.

“Are you a human?” he said breathlessly.

I bowed politely.

“You guessed it. Please don't worry, I have permission to live in Equestria and I'm not going to do anything dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m not worried at all,” Bronze shook his head. “I’m rather excited. You see, I’m very interested in your species. There’s so little information about Earth in the open press! Can I ask you any questions? All those amazing technologies your world is famous for… Automobiles, computers, television! I’d like to hear everything you can tell me without violating Her Highness’s prohibitions!”

I threw up my hands.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that much myself. Well, a car is a device I can imagine, although I wouldn’t undertake to explain how to make it from scratch. And the rest… I know about how they work, only in theory. I vaguely remember how to program a computer, but as for the internal structure…”

“What a pity,” the pony sighed. “Sometimes it seems to me that Princess Twilight is too cautious about introducing earthly inventions. No, I understand that she ultimately knows better, and there is nothing good in all these terrible wars and weapons… But the same radio – how much more fun it has made our everyday life!” He poked his hoof at a lacquered box covered with a white napkin, from which some pop tune was quietly coming.

“Ahem. I beg your pardon, Mr. Arrow, but I came to you on business.”

“Oh!” the earth pony even somehow pulled himself together and his face acquired a serious expression. “Tell me.”

It took about ten minutes to lay out all the nuances. The pony frowned, peered at the sketches, scratched his head with his hoof, and in the end, he snatched something tiny and shiny with tweezers that appeared out of nowhere and began to examine it through a magnifying glass, squinting at the paper with his other eye.

“Hardened steel blanks,” he finally said. “Hm. If we use gear blanks... The undercut is of a Discord complex shape, that's true, but in principle... in principle... The tubes can be ordered from Torsion, that's her area of expertise, and then the connection can be crimped,” I nodded silently, this idea had occurred to me too.

The pony raised his head sharply.

“Let's do it this way. In about three days, my guys and I will finish the urgent orders and get to yours. It will cost, with everything assembled - tip and tube - eight bits each. How many do you need made?”

“About ten pieces to try,” I said, not believing my success. “If everything works out…”

“You'll be able to pick it up by the beginning of next week. Come by on Thursday and have a look at the sample. If you like everything, we'll sharpen your ten. Pay when you pick up the goods. But on one condition!”

“What kind?”

“On Thursday we'll have a glass of cider together, and I'll ask you all about your home planet!”

“Agreed,” I chuckled.

“Then until Thursday?”

“See you on Thursday.”

Only when I stepped out onto the street, shrouded in the night darkness, and glanced at the clock face, did I realize that it was already twenty to eight. My legs were buzzing. How many places had I visited today?

Okay, it's too early to rejoice. Making the units and rods is just the beginning of the work. There are still many elements to assemble. And it's already costing a pretty penny. Before I fork out any serious cash, I'll still need to consult with Alyatara - how reasonable is my idea? Maybe I'm missing something? Some little thing that's obvious to the inhabitants of this world?

With Alyatara... And I didn't warn her that I was going to be late. And I didn't intend to make the unicorn worry... Damn, this is somehow awkward.

My gaze caught on the sign of a flower shop. Well, here is the solution to the problem.

The hat really did have a miraculous effect - the pony behind the counter did not shy away from me, but only looked at me with curiosity.

“A bouquet of delicious chamomile with lemon balm, please,” I put the silver half-bit on the counter.

“And… does your kind really eat chamomile, sir?” the salespony asked timidly.

“And this is for a pony I know,” I explained.

I'll have to stop by the drugstore near Alyatara's house on the way and buy an ice cream cone with oat sprouts. Or even two. The second one - without oats.