Chapters Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Ch 2 What Goes on each Wednesday
Chapter 2: What Goes on each Wednesday
"I dunno Applebloom...Maybe we should try kites again? Or bowling, or something..."
The three fillies stood at the base of the small, tree-shrouded hillock that hosted a very strange sight. It didn't look like the rest of the houses in Ponyville - perhaps the reason it was set apart, its only company being the healthy willows surrounding it. The house was two stories, with a small observatory latched onto the second story, which was slightly larger than the first. Its faded paneling was a dull grey-blue, where it still kept its color, and many of the shutters were in disrepair. Weeds grew along and in between the grey bricks composing the walkway leading to the house's only slightly less grey door. Bathed in the pale moonlight and shrouded by a reasonably thick misty-fog, it seemed the ideal place for a mad scientist to set up shop. And, according to Applebloom's according to Derpy, this wasn't the tip of the iceburg.
Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement, the spare costume clutched between her teeth. When Scootaloo had suggested carrying it on her back, she seemed shocked. Something about wrinkles, and how she couldn't do that to another pony, even if she didn't take particularly good care of her own clothes. A strange irony, that the sister of an up-and-coming designer diva would openly admit to being sloppy with her own clothes. But that wasn't any of Scootaloo's concern.
They were all clad in their new cloaks, courtesy of Rarity. Now blue, they were trimmed in a very convincing fake golden thread. The crest on either side popped out, brought to life by very precisely placed gemstones. She was no expert, but Scootaloo guessed it was amethyst, sapphire, and onyx. She had insisted it was nothing, but there was a pained look in Rarity's eyes; she guessed that onyx was a very rare gem, and probably expensive to cut. Why Rarity would consider giving the cloaks away - sure, they were too small for her average customer, but they could have been shoddily made - she had no idea. Much less to three fillies she probably knew weren't going to care for them properly; Sweetie Belle made her position clear, Scootaloo knew her own mannerisms concerning keeping clothes, Applebloom seemed very much like her sister when it came to fancy things. The only mystery was Dinky, which got her thinking about the task ahead again.
"It'll be fahn. Trust me; Derpy says that the Doctor maht seem cold at first, but he's really a nice guy."
"If you know so much about this guy, then why don't you go first?"
"Ah...Pass. Sweetie Belle, wah don't you go? Ya got Dinky's uniform; she'll prob'ly want ta change 'fore we actually go in."
Sweetie Belle shook her head, and motioned back to Scootaloo. Applebloom gave a triumphant grin.
"Majority rule; y'gotta go first, Scootaloo."
"Yeah? Well you're the leader; aren't you supposed to lead by example?"
"And as leader, ah order you ta go first!"
"It was your idea to begin with!"
Applebloom fell silent, and gave Sweetie Belle a knowing look and a wry grin. The other filly nodded, cloak catching on a low, prickly bush nearby. Applebloom turned those eyes and grin to face Scootaloo.
"What'sa matter, Scootaloo? Ya aren't...chicken...are ya?"
"Don't you eve-"
"Bwak."
"Applebloom..."
"Bwak bwak."
"You know I don-"
"Bwak bwaaak! Bwak bwak bwak!"
"Applebloom!"
"Bwaaaak! Bwakbwakbwakbwakbwakbwak!"
"You know what," Scootaloo snatched her cloak against the sudden wind. "I'll do it. Just don't ever call me chicken again, alright?"
Applebloom only waved a hoof, and motioned for her to go. A wolf howled nearby, and the brave leader suddenly found herself clutching an equally startled Sweetie Belle in fright. What's wrong with them? Scootaloo thought. It's just wolves. Everypony knows they avoid ponies unless necessary. Or, maybe, not everypony knew. A plan started to hatch in Scootaloo's devious little brain. She held that image of a scared Applebloom, and used it to clobber down any ounce of fear she had. She found herself moving for the rickety gate. Various pickets along the fence stuck out of the ground at odd angles, and while it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell you, Scootaloo made it clear to herself that that fence wasn't going to slow down a snail. The gate had fallen out of place, seemingly long ago, and it currently lay discarded among the half-tended flower beds lining the fence row. A rusty watering can signaled that, once upon a time, somepony was actually growing something here.
The stiff weeds tickled her hooves as she made the transition from rough-trod ground to the very uneven brick pathway. She could see the house more clearly now. Obviously. There was a porch, built between two places where the house jetted out, seemingly forming a small, rigid 'C'. A swing was attached to the ceiling, and for a wonder seemed the only thing about the place that still worked as it should. More abandoned flower beds, overrun with weeds, ran the length of the walk way. Here and there, a discarded tool - almost always rusty - lay seemingly forgotten among the bent lengths of the weeds it once attacked with vigor. By now, she had reached the steps up to the porch. A rickety-looking banister ran the small length of the ascent, but it looked like a sturdy breeze would topple it. The stairs were so squeaky that she doubted a doorbell would even be necessary; Applebloom and Sweetie Belle must have heard that from where they watched along the road. Scattered about the porch was your standard refuse that came with any abandoned building, usually the trash that squatters left behind when they were either forced to leave, or left of their own choice.
And finally, she was standing before the door. Strange; from the road, it seemed about average size. But standing before it, it seemed to tower over poor little Scootaloo. Must be the atmosphere. It'd be scary to see a bug come crawling out of that mist. She raised a hoof, oblivious of the faint whispering of the curtain in the adjacent window. She was about to knock when she made herself pause. Despite its feigned girth, the door looked as rickety as the rest of the structure. Would one knock send it tumbling into whatever lay beyond? Surely not; Derpy had all-but declared that this mystery Doctor - whom Scootaloo was growing ever more dubious of his educated background - lives here, in this Celestia forsaken patch of Ponyville. She was about to turn around when she heard Applebloom's jeering in her mind. Call me a chicken, will ya? I actually made it up here by myself! Let's see you do that! She raised her hoof with new-found vigor, and brought it down hard. She missed the door, and found herself sprawled out on the floor just inside.
This 'Doctor Whoof' guy doesn't seem so bad...
Sweetie Belle was still surprised that somepony actually lived here. She had almost expected the place to be abandoned, and that they'd have to go back home for the night. Thankfully - or perhaps not? - Derpy's information was reliable enough. Still, she couldn't help but think about the strange pony in the white lab coat. He seemed...Distant. Preoccupied. Easily distracted. And a little jumpy; she had tried talking to him once, only to have him snap at her a little. 'By god, don't do that! You could give me a heart attack doing that!' Upon asking what exactly a heart attack was, he only told her to hold her question, that he had to check on something, and he'd be right back. He didn't seem like a bad guy, not like Applebloom seemed to think. That filly just couldn't think outside her mindset; if you weren't normal, you had a very abnormal reason for being abnormal.
Derpy was there, and apparently preoccupied helping the Doctor with whatever delicate process he had been doing when they arrived. She still found it astonishing that any delicate process could benefit from Derpy 's help. No offence to Derpy, but the mailmare's reputation as a klutz was wide-spread and well-earned.
Dinky was there, too, and seemingly more backward than Fluttershy could be if she were trying. Ever since they had walked through the door - fell, in Scootaloo's case - she had taken to Derpy like a gosling to its mother. When Derpy had asked her to wait out here, she only nodded resignedly and retreated to the far corner to play with an odd assortment of toys. Dinky was obviously not inclined to start a conversation, but worse, neither were Applebloom and Scootaloo. The result was this strange pseudo-staring-contest, with a befuddled Applebloom and Scootaloo on one side, and a shy Dinky on the other. Strangely, she felt no anger for Scootaloo and Applebloom - even though they should be trying to welcome Dinky as a group - but only pity for that poor only child. Well, actually, Scootaloo claimed to be an only child, but since they've never met her parents or been to her house - she was also an exchange student, apparently - it was hard to gauge the validity of that. She nudged towards her compatriots in an attempt to chastise them in 'private'.
"You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. You two were both outcasts, once. Would you rather have been left out?"
With that, she went over to where Dinky sat, playing by herself. Let them chew on that. She felt more than a little nervous, crossing that gap on her own. But she saw where Dinky sat - metaphysically speaking - and all that she needed was for somepony to offer her a hoof. Might as well be Sweetie Belle. Still, she still felt herself a tad old for toys.
As she got closer, Dinky started to shy away. When she stood over the other filly - maybe that wasn't the best way to approach the situation - Dinky only flinched and closed her eyes. A second passed before she opened them tentatively, and looked up at the looming Sweetie Belle with a sense of mixed dread and curiosity. She took Sweetie Belle's lack of action as a cue to shimmy back further into the corner, curling in on herself. Celestia's mane, she looked terrified! When she spoke, it was through a slight stutter and even slighter sob.
"Y-y-you're not g-gonna hurt me, are y-you?"
The question caught her off guard. What has this filly been through, to think that every new face was going to be another pony that was going to hurt her? She stooped down, getting on eye level with the shivering Dinky.
"Now why would I do that ?"
"The other f-fillies...M-Mom says that m-my eyes make me s-sp-special...But they only u-use it as an exc-c-cuse to gang up on me..."
Poor thing... Sweetie Belle found herself frowning, which Dinky seemed to think was a sign to back further into her corner. Getting on eye level was hard ! Where did Dinky learn to get so flexible?
"But you're one of us, right? You're a Cutie Mark Crusader; we take care of our own," she motioned to the strange assortment of toys. They seemed to all be about the same thing, more or less. Scootaloo seemed to know a lot about pop culture; maybe she'd recognize them from somewhere. She sure didn't recognize it; everything seemed to be made for these coatless ponies on two legs that always seemed to be wearing clothes.
"So what's this stuff? Is it some kind of show or something?"
Dinky sniffled, but quit sobbing. She actually gave a small smile, very reminiscent of Derpy's lopsided grin.
"Uh...Actually, it's a little embarrassing...to talk about...I'd rather n-"
"Hey, are those My Little Human toys?" Scootaloo was across the room in a flash, running Dinky back into her corner. She was about to give Scootaloo an earful, but then something surprising happened. "You mean, you're into this, too?"
Dinky looked confused - more so than usual - as she looked Scootaloo in the eye. Or, tried to, anyway.
"What? You mean...You too?"
Scootaloo gave her a big grin, and began naming off the various characters, and making obscure references to the show. Sweetie Belle only managed to stare, and keep her jaw from hanging to the floor.* She nudged Scootaloo, and whispered.
"You're a humare? Since when? I thought you didn't like that kinda stuff." Suddenly, Scootaloo's face turned into a thunderhead.
"If you tell anypony, and I mean anypony ..." Her expression softened as she continued. "Yeah, I am. Lyra's the head of the little group here in Ponyville. Twilight is, too, but she hasn't been coming to the meetings lately. I think she's working on her fanfiction," She looked thoughtful. "And yes, before you ask, that's what I use the clubhouse for on Wednesday."
Sweetie Belle only managed a startled grunt. She had always wondered what went on during Wednesday.
An hour or two passed, with Scootaloo talking vehemently with a less-reclusive Dinky Do. Sweetie Belle seemed dumbfounded, and Applebloom thought she knew why. Normally, Scootaloo was better at making enemies, or at least rivals, than friends. Sweetie Belle smiled at her, and Applebloom only felt right to smile back. Maybe Scootaloo has finally found a true friend. Well, besides her and Sweetie Belle, that is. Soon after, Derpy and the Doctor came back from whatever they were doing, and before too long it was time to go home. Derpy had already made plans - and more importantly, had them approved - for them to tour the workshops below the house. Ditzy went on to Derpy that she was wrong about her first thought concerning the CMC, that she'd be happy to join. Then she whispered something into her mom's ear, and Applebloom caught the words 'Wednesday' and 'clubhouse'. Scootaloo blushed, and so did Sweetie Belle. She made a mental note to herself to find out what went on each Wednesday. After all, it was her clubhouse.
It was decided that tomorrow - Friday - they'd be able to take a closer look at what went on there. The Doctor insisted on shaking everypony's hoof, and apologizing for not being able to talk tonight, that he still had important work he needed to do before the night was out. Applebloom thought her initial reaction to him was a tad flawed; he wasn't crazy or diabolical. Maybe he was just a bit backward, and preoccupied. Derpy gave him a smile, which he returned - he had very white teeth! - and waved bye to everypony. Applebloom turned back from where she stood at the base of the hill, and waved back. Suddenly, that house on the hill seemed far less scary than it had a few hours ago.
End of Chapter 2
*Derelle'd!
Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Ch 3 The Great Robot Hunt
Chapter 3: The Great Robot Hunt
Tomorrow came, and Applebloom was both excited and a tad scared. Sure, Dr. Whooves doesn't seem so bad, but that still didn't explain why he lived out in the middle of nowhere, in a house everypony seemed to avoid like the plague. Why hide everything he made - she was almost sure it was hiding, under the circumstances - if you didn't want some secret slipping out? Some big, terrible secret.
The four of them walked the beaten path up to the strange house. She had to admit, it looked far less scary in the day. During the day, it just looked like another dilapidated house, albeit the only one in close proximity to Ponyville. It had taken them upwards to an hour to get from the school to the house, after telling their families where they were going. Applejack didn't seem to care much for her comrade, but figured that Derpy was trustworthy enough to watch 'little' Applebloom. This comment made her stiff with indignation; she was not little. According to Sweetie Belle, Rarity was harder to persuade. Ultimately, the secret of last night's meeting had come to the fore, to act as the argument for going. If there was going to be trouble, why didn't it happen the night before, when they had gone there alone and not told anypony? At this, Rarity faltered, and before too long agreed. Scootaloo didn't go into specifics; she just said that it was okay for her to go and that was that. Dinky, of course, didn't have to get permission.
Looking behind, she spied Scootaloo and Dinky, grossly engaged in conversation apart from the group. Through writing today, Sweetie Belle relayed the news concerning Dinky's fast acceptance by the wary Scootaloo. Ironically enough, that coincided with her question concerning the secret Wednesday meetings hosted by Scootaloo. So, apparently Scootaloo thought it was absolutely fine to loan their clubhouse out to secret Humare meetings. She felt herself blush slightly at the thought of other Humares; she was herself a closet Humare, keeping her stash - ironically - in her closet. Maybe she should start attending the meetings. You know; to dissuade anypony from pilfering something, and to just look over the clubhouse. It was a nice clubhouse, and that was the only reason.
She approached the door and knocked. The scuttle of hoofsteps was heard inside, and the door quickly opened to reveal a smiling Derpy. As usual, her smile was slightly askew. Her eyes, as always, seemed at odds with one another; as if they were both secretly unsure which direction they were supposed to go, but insisted it was this way or that way. Her mane, usually unkempt, was now brushed back into another tail, leaving a few strands to stick up over her eyes. When queried, she said it was a precaution for working in the lab, that there were lost of things that could catch a mane on fire. But apparently, we weren't going to be allowed into that part of the laboratory, a sentence that made Scootaloo frown. Likely, she had just wanted to tour that part to show she wasn't afraid of getting caught on fire. Without ceremony, Derpy took them into a small office, which for a wonder seemed wholly intact and even clean. Plush, red carpet tickled their hooves, and a sturdy oak desk sat dead center. A window showed the world outside, and Applebloom was worried about the overcast sky. Rain was scheduled today, and she didn't feel like getting caught in it. Opposite the windows was a large wall hanging of some obscure, but obviously important, scientist with a full beard of white. Applebloom wondered why all the important ponies were stallions, and why they all had beards. Was there some secret society of important bearded ponies?
Derpy took them over to the wall of shelves behind the desk. Scootaloo put herself at the fore, obviously upset that they weren't already underway.
"Uh, Derpy. Where's the lab, and why are we in Whooves' office?" Derpy only smiled, and pulled a book out of the third shelf of the bookcase second from the left. Only, it didn't come out. A small, sharp click was heard, and suddenly the middle bookcase swung back on hidden hinges to reveal a wood-paneled hallway, and the adjoining circular room. Derpy ushered them forward, and they all stepped into the next room. Applebloom peeped over the rail into the depths, and was instantly overwhelmed by vertigo. This staircase seemed to go on forever, spiraling into the depths of the world! She pulled back violently, bumping into a now-startled Dinky. Quickly apologizing, she turned back to Derpy to find her still smiling; perhaps at her small mishap with the rail. She found herself getting angry, but looking at Derpy's lopsided smile, she found it difficult to stay mad. She found herself grinning. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Scootaloo peeking over the side, seemingly not phased by the potentially long fall despite her inability to fly. She turned back to Derpy and gave voice to the same question that had bombarded Applebloom's own thoughts a moment before.
"How far down does this go?"
"Uh," Derpy's eyes went up and left in tandem as she thought. "I think it goes down...Pretty far? I dunno; I never thought to count the steps." Her smile was innocent, and suddenly Applebloom realized that Derpy could probably get away with robbing a bank by flashing her lopsided smile. Even if they found the bags in the cart, sitting in plain view. But Derpy wouldn't rob a bank.
"Come on," she motioned for them to follow. "I think the right lab's this way."
"You think ?" Sweetie Belle seemed astounded. "You said earlier that there was a lab with fiery stuff in it! What if we walk into that one? What if we get inciprocated? Imcimi- Ugh. Burned to a crisp?" For all her pride with words, Sweetie Belle seemed debased enough to stutter. And that was usually bad; for all her worrisome tendencies, she was usually the most unflappable of them.
Derpy just gave them another smile, but reassurance was slow in coming.
"He usually labels the doors. Today, I think he'd mark off the place with a sticky note. The only way to tell is to look, so let's get looking!" She set off down the stairs with a triumphant gait, as if she had already found the right door. Dinky plodded along behind her, content to be close to her mother. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom shared an uneasy glance and a shrug before turning to follow their chaperon.
Up and down and up and down they went. Scootaloo was getting frustrated; this would make their fifth trip back up the stairs, and still no sticky note in evidence. Still Derpy led the pack, seemingly endless energy as she plod back up the stairs with the same stride she had when they started off. What made her even more frustrated was that Derpy had wings, but didn't use them. It was as if she was just showing off the stamina she had built up from all her years running letters across Ponyville. Scootaloo fumed, now. If she could fly, she would have. But the normally ungainly pony deftly climbed flight after flight of stairs at a steady pace. She was gasping, now, and could hear the same wheezes from behind her. Applebloom seemed as fine as could be hoped, but Sweetie Belle had collapsed from exhaustion about a flight of steps behind. Even Dinky was lagging behind now. Derpy turned, apparently noticing the lack of hoofsteps following her, and her face was very serious. As serious as it could get, anyway. Scootaloo almost felt like laughing, if she wasn't so winded. Those eyes tended to make every face silly to some degree.
"Oh...I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were all following me!" What!? Scootaloo was confused and angry, which was never a good combination. We trailed you up and down these stairs five times, and you didn't notice us!? Concern marred Derpy's face, and Scootaloo couldn't find herself able to stay mad at that innocent face. She pitied whoever could stay mad at Derpy, for they were likely mad at the whole world.
"Here, you guys stay here and catch your breath. I'm gonna keep looking for that door." She strode off muttering to herself, but all was lost to her sigh of relief. She felt herself slinking down the stairs - she was more exhausted than she thought! - and picked a comfy spot next to the prostrated Sweetie Belle to sit. Applebloom was quick to follow, and poked at Sweetie Belle, who jutted upward. Apparently, she had been sleeping, and having a nice dream by the vexed sounds she made. Dinky was soon down as well, and decided to sit next to Scootaloo. She turned and started to talk.
"I'm sorry, she gets like this sometimes. She's gotten lost in the house on several occasions. Once, she missed work because she couldn't find the front door." She couldn't help it. Scootaloo quickly found herself laughing. Getting lost in your own house? Hilarious! Dinky only looked at her, but then she started to grin too. Suddenly, Scootaloo realized what had happened, and felt awful.
"Eh...Sorry about that. I know it's not nice, laughing at your mom like that, but...I just can't fathom getting lost in your own house. Sorry." Dinky looked thoroughly confused.
"Whadya mean?"
"I know Derpy can't help it that she gets like this. I just thought-"
"What? That it's not okay to laugh at the silly things you've done before?"
"Yeah, but this is different."
"Not really. Mom, she doesn't really care what anypony else thinks. Well, she actually does. But a lot less than what others think. You could tell her to her face that you thought getting lost in her house was funny, and she'd just smile back at you and say 'it was!'." Scootaloo started thinking about it, and Derpy's voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.
"I found it!" Everypony gave a grunt and a sigh. Scootaloo was suddenly wishing for escalators.
"So, what are all these things?"
Sweetie Belle looked around, stupefied. There was so much stuff to see! Unfortunately, none of it was labeled, and Derpy has already proved herself a tad more derpish today than normal. Still, it was all so exciting. There was a strange machine to her left that looked like a big ball with a hole cut in the side, sitting beside another machine that looked like a fancier sewing machine. There was a giant tank full of water to her right, filled with all sorts of fish that she didn't recognize, affixed to some kind of thermometer. It read 0 degrees on the side labeled 'C', 32 on the other. She'd have to ask later what those labels meant. Fortunately, Derpy said that, though they didn't have time to see everything, that she had gotten permission from Dr. Whooves to host a slumber party down in the bottom of the big staircase room. It was to be a big affair, with an artificial fire that still roasted marshmallows, smores, ghost stories; the whole spool of thread, the whole ream of paper. Sweetie Belle found herself anxiously waiting for nightfall, which by then she was sure she'd get her sister's 'OK' for attending said slumber party.
Her surroundings tugged at her thoughts, and she shook away the exhaustion. They'd moved on, a small ways away, and she hurried to catch up. A small, metal object on wheels rolled directly into her path, and sent her sprawling on the hard floor. The thing scuttled off into the jungle of unknown machinery, and Derpy stopped her explanation to help her up. After brushing off the imaginary dust, her face became very stern. Sweetie Belle found it difficult not to laugh.
"You really shouldn't be running in here. What if you tripped and landed on something? You could hurt yourself more than you know, and put a dent in his work." There was no question as to which 'his' she was referring to. Hurriedly, but not running, she caught up to the rest of the group, and the tour continued.
Before too long, thoughts of the strange little machine came to mind. She tapped Derpy on the flank, and the mailmare turned to look at her.
"Uh, Derpy. Earlier, when I fell, I tripped over a small, metal thing. What was it?" She looked confused, but then Derpy always looked confused.
"Which one?"
"I don't really know. It had wheels, that's all I remember." Derpy's eyes came alight, and suddenly she found herself verbally bombarded.
"Where was it? Where'd it go? Was it hurt? Well, actually, robots don't feel pain. But did it look broke? Wa-"
A thunderous crash sounded from the far side of the room. A great number of things were left tipped over, most broken. Sitting amidst the chaos was the small thing - a robot, by Derpy's reckoning - that had tripped her. She couldn't say for sure, but the thing seemed embarrassed. For a second, all was still. Derpy and the robot seemed to stare at eachother like two strange cats in a room. Then, the silence shattered. Derpy gave a wild yell and lunged for the robot. Seemingly startled, the robot dashed off into the surrounding machinery, leaving a trail of broken glass and toppled metal in its wake. The rest just stared at the commotion. Sweetie Belle found herself shaking her head in vexation and curiosity. That robot was worse than Derpy at her worst. Or was, according to Dinky, who was surprisingly forthcoming about it.
The chase went on for a small while, Derpy vaulting broken and half-standing machinery, chasing the ever-bungling bunch of wires. Despite its frequent errant pathways, the small robot seemed to always stay one step ahead of the now-tiring Derpy Hooves. Before too much longer, it scurried beneath the large orb she had seen upon entering, and no amount of jumping and yelling got it to leave. In response, the thing emitted a series of beeps and whirs, as if retorting to Derpy's insistence that it give itself up. Sighing, she motioned for her and the rest to leave, and sealed the door behind her. Curiosity piqued in Sweetie Belle again, and she soon found herself questioning an exasperated Derpy.
"What was it, really? What does it do except knock things over?" Derpy reclined against the wall, clearly exhausted but willing to answer.
"That was a...Well, I don't really know. Dr. Whooves says that it's supposed to keep the lab clean, keep things off the floor. But you're right; all it does is make a mess." She paused in thought. "It also doesn't like cats. That's all, really. If you want to know more, I'd ask the Doctor; he'd probably be able to tell you everything."
The rest of the tour was uneventful, and surprisingly boring. After all was said, Derpy ushered them out of the house. She had to go home and freshen up; apparently chasing rogue vacuum-cleaner-robots gave you a full workout. They'd all meet back in front of the house at seven thirty for the sleepover. Before too long, Sweetie Belle had made her way back to Carousel Boutique, and to a worried older sister. That was understandable, since Rarity was supposed to be responsible for anything that happened. Then Sweetie Belle told her about the sleepover. Rarity fumed, going on and on about making plans behind her back, and how difficult she was being, and when their parents found out. But then she used logic. Sweetie Belle had gone into the house twice, and came out both times intact, and safe. She yawned, and added exhausted to the list. Eventually, Rarity relented, on the condition that she was going too. Ecstatic, Sweetie Belle rushed up the stairs to pack her bags. Tonight was going to be fun!
End of Chapter 3
Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Ch 4 A Lesson in Packing and Planning
Chapter 4: A Lesson in Packing and Planning
Sweetie Belle came awake with a start. She could still remember the nightmare with startling clarity. She had been swimming in a lake, with her friends. She went underwater, and when she came up, she hit her head on something hard. While she had been under, the surface of the lake had frozen solid. Worse, the ice didn't distort vision like it normally did; she could see her two friends looking down at her, and no doubt they could see her looking back up at them. Except, they didn't make a move to break the ice. Scootaloo shrugged, and they turned in tandem to walk off. The last moments she could remember was the feeling of your lungs finally bursting, of icy water flowing into her lungs. And the sensation that marked when you had to go to the bathroom. Hastily, she checked her pallet for signs of leakage, and thankfully there was none to be had. But she still had to go. She looked around, small panels on the wall alight every so often. But it wasn't the panels or the still-glowing electric lantern in front of her that caught her gaze. It was all the spaces in between. What could hide between each set of lights?
She went over to where Applebloom lay, and stopped herself just short of waking her friend up. She didn't want to wake her friend up over some silly little excuse, such as being afraid of the dark. If you spent any time around the Apples, it was no secret what happened if you interrupted Applebloom's sleeping. She backed away, and tripped over her pallet. She fell backwards, hitting the heavily-carpeted floor with a dull thud . Quickly, she sprung back into her pallet, and lay as still as she could. Steady breaths...Steady breaths...It was a relief when nopony stirred, and she quietly slipped out of her pallet and simply stood there, torn between her need to relieve herself and her inability to wake up one of her friends. Shaking her head with determination, she marched - quietly - to where Applebloom lay asleep. She nearly tumbled backward when the tiny voice flared from the dark.
"Sweetie Belle?" Every thought in her head scattered when it said her name. She couldn't even bring herself to flee in a senseless terror; it was the kind of terror that all-but nailed you to the ground, and told you not to go anywhere. Applebloom's pallet rustled, and her sleepy-eyed friend rolled over to greet her.
"Sweetie Belle? That you?" Applebloom sat up, and rubbed the sleep out of one eye with a hoof, stretching with the other, and all while she let out the biggest yawn she thought she had ever seen. Applebloom sat and stared at her, eyes still unfocused.
"What the hay er y-awwn...ya doin'? Ah thought ya mugrogndrogn..." Her sentence faded away into a mumbled garble as she made to lay back down. Sweetie Belle reached out to shake her friend, as Applebloom tried to swat her hoof away.
"Applebloom, please! This is an emergency!" She hissed in her friend's ear, hoping with every other fiber in her being that nopony else got woken up. Applebloom's ears perked, and she sat back up with another yawn.
"Wayl...Ahm waitin'..."
"I, er...Gotta 'go'. Y'know? 'Go'? 'Go' go?" Applebloom's face was impassive, and she gave another large yawn.
"Ya mean t' tell me that ya woke me up 'cause ya gotta use the li'l filly's room?"
"No! Well, not exactly. It's just-"
"Aht with it, Sweetie Belle. Ah cain't keep m'self 'wake all naht..." She emphasized this with another yawn.
"Er...I'm scared." Applebloom's deadpan stare seemed enough of an invitation to continue. "..Of the dark." This seemed to sate the other's need for an excuse. Applebloom hauled herself off the ground with another deep yawn.
"Well...'At settles it. C'mon, let's go."
"Wai-wha?"
"Seems I'll getta go back ta sleep faster if ah getcha up the stairs, rather'n letcha muddle through it yerself." Sweetie Belle nodded, and Applebloom nodded back. They both made for the stairs, and began the inevitably-long climb.
On their way, they passed the room from today's tour. There had been discussions about another tour the next day, and apparently there were already plans in the making. Maybe that's what Rarity and Derpy were doing for so late? Even amongst themselves had there been thoughts about another tour of a different lab. Applebloom apparently thought Applejack trusted Derpy to watch her where she couldn't watch herself. Scootaloo only said that she wouldn't be missed for another look around. Ditzy was a non-issue, as it was her mother who was acting as the tour guide. That only left herself. Maybe she could persuade Rarity to let them have another look around before they had to leave?
The aforementioned door was sealed tightly shut. She thought that, had there been anything that needed to breathe in there, it would have died long before. She heard faint whirrs and beeps from within, and she guessed the rogue robot was just opposite the door. Maybe listening in on whatever might be there to listen to? The sight of the door and the sounds of the robot sparked a memory in Sweetie Belle's brain, and she turned to her midnight traveling companion.
"There was a weird-looking thing in there."
"Yep. Lotsa weird lookin' things." Even the following yawn was laced with cynicism.
"No, no. I mean there was one that stood out."
"Bah standin' up? Yeah, there were a few lahk that. What 'bout 'em?"
"Tomorrow, if it's okay for me to stay, I wanna check inside that room again. You think Derpy'll let us back in to catch the robot?"
"Maybe. Not on mah agenda; raht now I jus' wanna be sleepin'..." Sweetie Belle nodded, and they continued climbing the stairs.
They found the right room without further notable incident, and descended stairs in much the same manner. There was one part where Sweetie Belle thought there was an extra step, and almost tripped -earning a scoff from the thoroughly-tired Applebloom - but nothing else worthy of mention. Applebloom literally fell onto her pallet, and from Sweetie Belle lay, she could hear the other's snores. She snuggled up into her blankets, seemingly trying to project her desires to her peacefully-sleeping sister. Hopefully, she'd get another chance to look at that machine.
Morning came too quickly for Rarity's liking. When she managed to drag herself from her cot - in a most undignified manner, at that - everypony else was already awake. Derpy was cooking breakfast on some sort of portable stove, and the girls were chatting quite contentedly over the small lantern. Shadows flecked the walls; the room had no windows, and that meant no sunlight. Rarity shivered despite the warmth. This did nothing to help her claustrophobia, strange though that she should feel it even though the ceiling stretched beyond her vision.
Her rustling caught Derpy's attention, and the pitiable mailmare turned and gave her her biggest lopsided smile. Rarity smiled back, tendrils of nervousness creeping into her. How could Derpy smile so much? It was unnerving, given her 'condition'. Rarity was almost certain of her course had she awoken one morning with googly-eyes and an unkempt mane. Would it technically be considered solitude if you brought your pet into exile with you? Derpy reached down and flicked off the portable stove contraption, and scooped its contents out onto a paper plate. Plate-in-mouth, she wobble-walked over to where Rarity was just now sitting upright. Now that was just unsanitary. She's seen Derpy using her hooves to pick things up, a strange talent that seemingly only Earth ponies display with any regularity, so why not now? She took the plate with her magic, and gave Derpy another small smile.
"Er, thanks."
"Oh, you're welcome!" Derpy plopped down beside her cot, like Opal would on occasion.
"You don't know how glad I am to hear that today."
"You feel under-appreciated? Anypony could see what a help you are with their eyes closed."
"Pfhah! No, I tend to bungle more than anything else. But thanks for the compliment; it goes a long way for my ego." Derpy kneaded her back, apparently trying to ease some muscle or other.
"Did you...Do something to your back?"
"Huh? No, not on purpose. It might have something to do with all the heavy lifting I've been doing lately."
"Heavy lifting? You...Lift weights?"
"N-no! Nothing like that! Work-related stuff; some ponies think it's okay to send their entire life savings through the mail, and then there are other kinds of large packages, mostly appliances."
"You know," Rarity pursed her lips in thought. "I know a few ponies who know a thing or two about backs. I might be able to get you an appointment; they're fairly exclusive."
Derpy shook her head.
"Not in my budget you don't. Thanks anyway, though." She got up to leave, and Rarity grabbed her by the shoulder. Derpy turned around in surprise. She motioned Derpy closer, so they could whisper.
"If you've no other option, I'm also a fully-qualified masseuse." Derpy's eyes went wide in surprise.
"Really? You'd do that?" Derpy steamrolled over her feeble retort.
"Has anypony told you how generous you are?"
"Countless, to be sure."
"Well, add another name to that list. You're really giving, you know?" Rarity couldn't help but smile.
"To a fault, darling."
After cleaning up the mess from breakfast, Derpy held a private counsel with Rarity. Apparently, there was to be another night tacked onto the original sleepover plan, and as a whole, Rarity didn't mind. Derpy was in good spirits, since the hinting of a remedy for her aching back, and as good moods tend to be infectious, Rarity soon found herself in a much more agreeable mood. But there was an eensy-weensy problem; she hadn't packed for two nights! Telling Derpy to watch the fillies, she made a quick trip over to where they sat talking.
"Sweetie Belle. I'm going back to the Boutique to get a few essentials. Do you need anything?"
"No, but how many is a 'few'?" Rarity didn't feel much like elaborating, so she skirted the question.
"Alright then; I'll be back before too long. Do whatever Derpy tells you to, and for Luna's sake, try not to get into trouble."
A few minutes later found her at the top of the spiral stairs, winded. They needed some kind of elevator for this thing! No time to stop now; she could feel her mane, sticking up at all angles like a pincushion. She also noticed that one of her lashes was missing; that'd have to be taken care of, too. And her hooves were likely to be grimy by the time she got back to the Boutique; it had rained the night before. Never let it be said that Pegasi were the only ones who had a feel for weather, but one of the telltale signs was the still-pouring rain and the occasional thunderclap. She opened the door and found her worst fears confirmed; you could barely see the road from the porch for all the rain. She was about to make do with what she had brought, when she remembered something crucial. Two something's actually. One, these storms were supposed to last the remainder weekend, to make up for an earlier drought. Secondly concerned Opalescence. The normally-placid cat was actually very excitable, and thunder storms were the worst. Rarity cringed, picturing the workshop in her mind. It was hardly a pretty picture.
Steeling herself for the worst, she plunged into the rain. It hit her like a tidal wave, which for all intents and purposes, it was. This was a fine way to start the day, undoing all the work of primping with what minimal tools were on hoof in a sudden wash of frigid rain and howling wind. She found herself slipping and sliding down the hill - how was she ever to get back up there? - until she finally found the road. It took far longer than she would have thought; heavy rain did have a tendency to obscure distances. Now, which way was Ponyville? A sudden crack of thunder was heard through the trees, and she bolted in the direction she thought was Ponyville. Careful deliberation in the middle of a thunderstorm was daft, especially if you're in a hurry to begin with, and horseapples to those who say otherwise!
Eventually, she felt the familiar flagstones of Ponyville. Thank goodness she had gone the right way the first time! She picked her way among the houses, surprised to find a scattering of ponies still about in this dreadful weather. And every single one of them wearing a raincoat. She fought the urge to slap herself in the face - hard. How could she have forgotten that in her packing? She had known about the storms.
She found the front door of her shop, and entered without pausing to admire the building's design. Quickly, she made her way up to her bathroom - after wiping her hooves, of course. A quick 'fresh-up, touch-up' was called for, even though the trip itself called for haste. She forwent her usual bath in favor of a quicker and more efficient shower, deigning to use her towel to actually dry her mane for the first time in ever. Mid-way through drying, she wondered if this was Applejack's usual routine; it suited her, in as much of a way one cleans suits them. It was a silly thought, but a curious one as well; she'd have to make a note to ask Applejack some time later.
As she expected, the workshop was a mess of spilled fabric and clawed curtains. She would have fumed if she hadn't felt so bad for the poor dear, curled up in a small furry ball over in the corner. She drew closer, and Opal hissed at her, swiping a claw in her direction.
"Now, Opal! Shame on you; you don't scratch Mommy." The cat growled throatily before sitting up. She started licking her paw to clean her ears. It was strange, how quickly Opal's moods swung. But helpful, here. Rarity picked up the cat, and began to soothe it. Another clap of thunder, but Opal knew she was safe. She even begun to purr! Suddenly, an idea sprung into Rarity's head. From what she gathered, this 'Dr. Whooves' wasn't allergic to cats, and neither was Derpy. From what she understood, that meant Dinky wasn'y allergic either. And since both of Sweetie Belle's friends have been inside her workroom, she knew they weren't allergic to cats as well. But she knew Opal was going to hate this.
"Come on, Opal. Momma's got an idea; you don't have to be left alone any more."
End of Chapter 4
Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Chapter 4-2: It Has a Name?
"The coast clear?"
Applebloom gave a shout from her post at the top of the stairs and together, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Dinky pushed open the huge door. It swung inward, and the small tink, tink of metal-on-metal came to Dinky's ears. A flurry of whirr s and beep s sounded from behind the door, and a small form scurried off into the unlit room. It had been Sweetie Belle's idea; an expedition to catch the rogue cleaning machine for Derpy. 'Maybe', she had said, 'if we work together, we can catch it!' When questioned on why, she simply said because it was something that needed to be done. Applebloom had agreed immediately, with Scootaloo soon following. Then they had turned to little Dinky. Even now, she could feel her chest slightly compressed. Oh, they made a show of telling her she didn't have to go if she didn't want to, but then who else was going to make sure they didn't break anything? With Derpy gone up to do something - nopony thought to ask - it fell to the only other pony who knew her way around the laboratory. Thankfully, she was familiar with at least this one, since this was the one Mom always took her down to.
Staring nervously into the dark, she inched slowly into the room until she found the light switch. She flicked it on, and row after row of halogen lights flicked on. Was it more brighter than she remembered? Suddenly, a stand lamp fell to their right. Left in its wake was a robot, whirr s and beep sounding in a fury. Then it gave a high-pitched robotic squeal, and flew further into the lab.
"Poor thing..."
Scootaloo gave her a funny look, but Sweetie Belle only nodded in agreement. Applebloom was just now coming into the room, asking which way it went or if it got out. Scootaloo pointed in the direction the robot had gone, and soon Applebloom was back in control of the operation.
"Sweetie Belle, ya'll guard the door. Scootaloo, yer with me. Dinky..." She gave Dinky an appraising look, and turned back to Scootaloo.
"Scratch that. Scootaloo, ya'll go 'round left. If ya see it, get mah attention, and we'll nab it. Dinky, yer with me."
Nodding, Scootaloo moved off to the left, deftly making her way through the tangle of machines and broken glass. For a second, Dinky just stared, taking it all in. How could one little robot make this huge mess? Her thoughts were interrupted by a quick nudge from Applebloom. The other filly seemed peeved; did she even grasp the implications of this? One measly robot!
"If ya cain't focus, ya can wait outsahd. But ah'd rather not; ah need somepony with some kinda smarts 'bout this place."
Dinky nodded, squelching whatever thoughts remained. Together, they scrambled over fallen contraptions of various descriptions, in pursuit of the robot. Its trail was relatively easy to follow; just find whatever was most recently smashed to bits, and you're likely on the right trail. But unlike grass and mud, which is said to give you some indication of how much time passed, the metal floor was impartial to robot treads and hooves alike. More than once, they thought they had it cornered, only for something to fall over on the other side of the lab. Those beep s almost seemed to be mocking them and their efforts to pin down one machine among a million. She heard Applebloom mutter something about 'a needle in a haystack', and she was inclined to agree. Only, it was more like a needle in a needle-stack.
They met up with Scootaloo often, as it was necessary to change the plan quite a few times. Occasionally, she'd be sent with Scootaloo, others with Applebloom, and a few times she was sent to the front to ask Sweetie Belle if the robot had gotten out somehow. Wherever she went, the robot seemed to follow in its own way. It only seemed to show itself to her, and whoever she happened to be with at the moment. The second time she inquired with Sweetie Belle, she made a startled gasp, and made a dart for the robot. Apparently, it had peeked out from underneath an overturned machine that was too heavy to right, and so was gone. Dinky couldn't help but be dumbfounded; how in Equestria did that little brush on wheels have the capacity to knock over a heavy piece of machinery? After a bit of colorful language, Sweetie Belle said that 'this had been the only time she's seen it since they started', and asked if Dinky would be amiable to watching the door.
A series of soft beeps sounded to her left, and she turned quickly. There it sat, for all to see at peace within Dinky's presence. Unfortunately, her current partner, Scootaloo, also noticed her movement. Quickly, she traced the angle of Dinky's head to the robot. She gave a primal grin, and gave a loud shout.
"Gotcha now, ya little tur-oof!"
Out of nowhere, a heavy beam had came swinging from below, sending Scootaloo skyward. Dinky watched in mute horror as her friend's body was flung across the lab, to land sliding into Applebloom's view. Applebloom, normally unflappable, gave a small shriek as she helped Scootaloo to her hooves. The robot, un-phased by what was surely its act, sat there staring at her. Dinky's brain was a rush of conflicting emotions; that thing had hurt Scootaloo! But when she looked into its bright red sensor, she thought she saw a spark of intelligence and - was that a tear? No, no! Robots can't cry, and they don't have feelings. That was what Dr. Whooves always said when questioned about the capacity of robots; that, and something about the 'laws of robotics'. But voices of the past tend to be less than convincing when you're traumatized, and so Dinky quickly found herself whispering hurriedly to the robotic nuisance.
"I can't help you! I don't know what the problem is, and probably wouldn't be able to fix it anyway!" The iris shutters shut and opened, and Dinky couldn't help but think that the robot had blinked in a crude imitation of her own. A series of beep s and clicks seemed to act as its voice, though it didn't speak a language anypony - or anything, for that matter - could really interpret. Suddenly, Dinky felt an onslaught of a revelation sweep across her brain. This little robot wanted to be a pony! It seemed too much like one of the bedtime books Mom would read to seem real, yet here before her was a defunct robot organism that only wanted to live among its creators as an equal. It tugged at her heartstrings, and while that seemed to remedy any lack of expertise or knowledge in the stories, Dinky knew all too well that any fiddling around without knowing what she was doing could just as easily destroy what spark there was as fix it, no pun intended.
Suddenly, she remembered her friend and, feeling awful, turned to see if she was okay. Scootaloo was standing now, supported by an equally unstable Applebloom. Dinky knew she couldn't rely on their friendship to distract Applebloom from her own no-nonsense, vindictive nature. She made shoo-ing motions at the robot, telling it to leave as quietly as she could, but it only sat there, defiantly beep ing and clink ing at her. Strangely enough, she felt almost like a mom, telling a recalcitrant filly to go to its room. The parallel made her more comfortable with the situation, and as she feinted at the robot, it emitted a shrill beeep as it turned and scurried away. Hearing the noise, Applebloom and Scootaloo turned from where they stood, and looked over at her. She tried to act as sheepish as she could, like a little filly with her hoof caught in the cookie jar.
"Oops...My bad."
"So, let me get this straight," Sweetie Belle was sitting with a disheartened Dinky Do, after her 'failure' to catch the pesky piece of machinery. "You saw it blink , and you thought it was trying to talk to you?" Dinky was indignant, and automatically went on the defensive.
"Yeah; yeah I did, and it did. I know it did; no matter what you and the others think, I know what I saw and what I heard." Sweetie Belle put a hoof on the other filly's shoulder, pressing her firmly back down onto her cot. She turned to look at Applebloom and Scootaloo, quietly muttering to eachother where they sat. She turned back to Dinky.
"Almost sounds like you're grouping me in with the taskmistress and the lovable scumbag. Sit down."
Dinky, from where she was getting up, sat back down.
"I'm not saying you're wrong. Lots of stranger things have happened in Ponyville than robots that want to become ponies. But it does sound pretty far-fetched. I wish you had some kind of proof, but we both know that's pretty impossible." They both sat there stewing. Suddenly, Dinky's head whipped up, her eyes alight.
"I think I can get it to come out again; maybe I can get it to talk to me with you there. They know you," Dinky motioned to the others. "Your word will mean something to them. Please?" Dinky's eyes became watery pools, and Sweetie Belle soon found herself agreeing for the return trip, just the two of them.
The door had been left open from earlier, and on the excuse that Sweetie Belle hasn't actually seen the robot herself - the original incident forgotten in all the commotion - Scootaloo and Applebloom saw no excuse for keeping her down there. Quietly, the pair slunk into the room, Dinky motioning for her to leave the lights off.
"Better for seeing the eye this way."
Sweetie Belle shrugged, and nodded for Dinky to proceed. They weren't waiting long; within a minute, a single spot of red peeked at them from an overturned piece of machinery. Dinky made hushing noises and moved towards it, as if coaxing some frightened animal not to run, and Sweetie could only watch amazed as it worked. When she was within reach, Dinky scooped up the robot with her teeth, and flung it rather ungracefully onto her back, where it sat spitting and spluttering incomprehensible robot gibberish as she hauled over for Sweetie Belle to see. Halfway there, Dinky lost her temper and shushed it. Miraculously, it sat there muttering to itself in that same robot gibberish.
"Ta-dah!"
Sweetie Belle was astounded; the robot pivoted to face Dinky's head and sputtered some meaningless string of whirr s and beep s that were clearly taken for annoyance. It then turned to Sweetie Belle, closing its iris just slightly, as if appraising her. The whole thing was bittersweet; if one robot could find itself capable of thought, what are the odds of more? On one hoof, it'd be amazing to have somepony new to talk to, but at the same time, who is to say that all robots are inherently as docile as this one? She turned to Dinky.
"Can I talk to it?"
"That'd be a better question to ask Samson, not me." Sweetie Belle gave her a flat stare.
"You named it?"
"Uh-huh. Samson was a really strong pony, whose strength was tied to his hair." Sweetie Belle's expression remained unchanged.
"It's a pretty obscure everything; story and mythology are both outdated. Does it matter half a whit anyway? Just say hi; I think he's getting uncomfortable riding on my back."
Sweetie Belle nodded to her friend, and turned back to Samson. It seemed so much easier to think of it as a colt rather than a robot; she's had a good track record with conversing with colts. Not so much with defunct bits of machinery.
"Er...Hi?"
The robot responded with a series of whirr s and beep s, seemingly friendly, but with a lewd undertone. Sweetie Belle was both exasperated and amazed. It could actually converse! And it seemed to have picked up all the nuances of its assigned gender role, too. She looked at her friend, making her thoughts clear.
"Is it too late to make him a filly, instead?" Dinky laughed openly, and shook her head.
"Even if it wasn't, you just called him a 'him' anyway, instead of a 'her'. So it's settled," She unceremoniously picked Samson off her back, and plopped it back on the floor. She was greeted with a good-natured series of beep s and boop s, taking the tone of a pleasant goodbye. At that, it turned and glided off into the lab, only once knocking something over. With a no-doubt colorful series of robotic bleep s, it stormed off angrily. Dinky turned back to her friend, eyes bright.
"Believe me now?"
Sweetie Belle could only nod and gape.
End of Chapter 4-2
Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Chapter 5: Messes
It was still raining ropes when Rarity stepped out of the boutique, Opal-in-bag in-hoof. The wind had died down a little from before, but the rain seemed to compensate for it. She could hear the fat droplets smacking the cobbles as she turned and locked the door. Normally, Opal was enough to keep anypony from burgling the boutique - her reputation as a sourpuss was far-spread and well deserved - but she wan't going to leave anything to chance. If anypony was outside in this weather - Celestia forbid; they have no idea what that'd do to their manes! - and thought to pop inside, they're in for a sore surprise. Plopping the key in her raincoat pocket - the most cliché, banana-colored variety in existence, with matching hat - she suddenly felt awful. What if somepony actually did happen to be out-and-about - she was, after all - and they genuinely needed a place to get out of the rain for a bit.
She unlocked the door, and went back into the boutique, setting Opal's bag unceremoniously on the floor and earning a disapproving hiss in return.
"Patience, Opal. Momma's going to be just a minute. Now, where's that paper..."
After searching ceiling to floor of the boutique, she finally managed to accrue a piece of paper, and all the necessities for writing. She dipped the quill into the inkwell, and hurriedly wrote a simple note.
Passerby,
Out visiting friends. If still raining, and you need place to stay, key is under mat. Please wipe hooves; I like my studio clean.
~Rarity
She scrutinized the paper, void of all decorum and even basic rules of sentence structure. She was about to crumple it up and write another, more proper note, when she realized what she was doing.
Waiting here all day's not going to make the rain go away any sooner. Besides, if anypony was traipsing about Ponyville on this fine day, they probably wouldn't care about grammatical rules or the proper way to write a letter. Picking up her slapdash note, Opal's bag, and plopping her rain-hat back on, she stepped outside into the tumult. She stuck the note into the door, took the key from her pocket and placed it under the rug, and stepped out into the tumult - for real, this time. Last time, she stopped under the awning.
How many clouds did they have to gather to put this together? Rarity slodged down what she thought was the road. It was hard to tell; her hooves were starting to go numb, and it was actually raining so hard that she couldn't see the road she was supposedly standing on. One hoof in front of the other, Rarity. For the past half-hour at least, her mind had adopted a quasi-war-chant; One more step, one more step, one more step. She hurt all over - the rain had to get even worse , and freezing besides - but the pain was distant. She felt herself trudging along, but beside the fact that progress might be being made, she didn't think about it. This left her mind to ponder other things, like the weather Pegasi. I'm not a weather-pony, but I'd put my bits on 'from all of Equestria'. She toyed with the idea a bit, wondering if the rest of Equestria was in the midst of a drought.
Suddenly, she felt her hoof slide out from beneath her. Lulled into her state of semi-consciousness, she couldn't react in time, and she felt herself fall face-first into the biggest mud pie she'd ever seen. After the initial revulsion, she toyed with the idea that Pinkie might have a long-lost brother. But if Mud Pie existed, what would he be like? Maybe...
Opal gave a furious howl from underneath her. How'd that get there? Quickly, she righted the bag that sheltered the poor cat within. She then found that the buckle that had fastened it securely around her neck had somehow snapped, rendering it completely useless. She groaned in frustration. Opal hissed.
"I know, Opal. I know," she hefted the satchel over her shoulder, securing the ends with her mouth. As she began trudging down the road again, she felt it bounce off her side with a rhythm that she was certain Opal would not appreciate.
She grimaced.
I just hope that we get there before something else happens... But on the bright side, her gaze turned skyward, towards the grey clouds she was sure were hidden somewhere up there, there's been no more lightning for a while.
And so she plodded on, mindful of her footing, and mindless of the time and her groaning body.
"But w'cain't just let it roam 'round unsupervised, neither," said Applebloom. She looked at the now-ransacked lab, with its once-navigable pathways cluttered with mechanical debris from all quarters. Broken glass glittered on the floor like diamonds set in pearl, and more than a few lights flickered on the verge of going out. She grimaced - it had been bad before, but this looked like ten tornadoes went through in tandem - and turned back to Scootaloo and Dinky, her hoof pointing at the obvious mess in emphasis.
"Not if all it does is jus' that . An' so far, it don't look like it does do anythin' else."
"You could-" Dinky piped up from where she stood, but was verbally steamrolled by Scootaloo.
"What if we put it in a cage somewhere? There has to be something in here that thing can't break."
"Or, you might-"
"T'sa good idea, Scootaloo. Question is," she surveyed the room again, noticing for the first time how thoroughly destroyed it was, "if there's anythin' left to cage it with."
"Or-"
"Scootaloo, you look over yonder. Watch yer step; there's glass everywhere."
"But, what if-"
"Dinky, you look 'round here fer a place we can build it. It needs ta be kinda big, so we- oh, and ah'll need one of them weldin' torches fer when we actually-"
"Can you just listen to me for a second!?"
Applebloom fell silent, and just stood looking at Dinky impassively. She looked around, and noticed that everyone present, pony and robot alike, were looking at her with varied reactions. Scootaloo was arching an eyebrow, and alternating her view between herself and Applebloom. Sweetie Belle looked almost embarrassed, and when Dinky caught her observing, she turned back to what she had been doing before, which was apparently trying to teach Samson the alphabet. The robot's iris eye closed just a fraction, and it seemed to almost be measuring her. After a second, he turned back to Sweetie Belle, and she held up another flashcard for him to observe. Scootaloo had walked over to Sweetie Belle to observe the learning robot, presumably unsure of whether or not she should continue with Applebloom's assignment for her.
She finally looked back at Applebloom, a little fearful of retribution, but the other filly just stood there, yet clearly asking her to elaborate. She cleared her throat before continuing.
"Samson's...Well, he does make messes, but do we really need to cage him?"
"And why not?"
"Well, it's just a bit...much, don't you think?"
"No, ah don't think it's too much."
"Oh, well...Ah...He thinks he's a pony."
"And you think it's a colt, but it ain't. Yer point?"
"I just think...Maybe he can learn how to not destroy things? Or maybe he thinks it's what he does best, and that it's his cutie-mark or something. Or maybe there's actually something wrong with him. Whichever it is," she motioned to the robot, beeping as it ran through the alphabet with surprising speed, "it's not a reason to keep him under lock and key forever. The only way he can get better is if we help him."
Suddenly, Sweetie Belle screamed in surprise. Dinky and Applebloom turned to watch Samson speed away towards a nearby desk, lined with everything a desk should and could have on it, and then some. He didn't slow as he approached the bureau, and when it became obvious that he was going to ram it, Scootaloo jumped to intercept him. Too little and too late, she didn't cover a quarter of the distance between them when his metallic body hit the desk full-on, toppling a few things from the menagerie onto the already-cluttered floor, and then wheeling back to do it again. This time, Applebloom moved in to stop him, but he swerved around her and went careening into the desk again, this time dislodging an inkwell from its previously precarious perch. It sped through the spilled ink, and started dodging around the two fillies in a mad dervish as they both tried to apprehend him. Dinky felt her heart sinking; this would surely solidify Applebloom's belief that he needs to be caged before somepony gets seriously hurt. She turned to Sweetie Belle to find the other filly sitting there, calmly, and actually looking a bit thoughtful. She tilted her head and squinted, a perfect replication of some feral beast in thought. Then, her eyes shot open, and Dinky could practically see the light bulb flicker on over her head, as she moved to stop the other two from interfering.
"Wait, you two. I think he's trying to tell us something."
"Yeah, he's tellin' us that he - it - really does need ta go locked up somewhere."
"No, look," she pointed and turned to where the robot was doing crazed laps on the floor. Suddenly, they took on a form visible to everyone. Applebloom drew a sharp breath, and Sweetie Belle nodded in affirmation.
"Letters..."
They saw, for the first time - excepting Sweetie Belle - that Samson had been writing something with the spilled ink. Dinky's chest puffed out, and then promptly sagged with relief. That had been a close one. If not for Sweetie Belle...
"It wants a piece of chalk," said Scootaloo from her point of observation. Dinky nodded, and disappeared for nigh upon five minutes. She brought back both a piece of chalk and an old blackboard of sufficient size. She placed both objects in front of Samson, curious to see what he had to say. Suddenly, a small robotic arm shot out from his undercarriage, its business end split into three, equidistant prongs. It gripped the chalk and, with amazing dexterity and speed, wrote out a message on the chalkboard. When he was finished, he dropped the chalk and turned the board so everyone could look. Sweetie Belle, reading out loud, gave voice to what was written on the blackboard.
"'Broken voice synthesizer. Need repair.' But," she turned to the others, but was talking to the robot, "we can't. We're not scientists, or robot doctors, or whatever."
"But Dr. Whooves is ," said Scootaloo.
"If there's anything wrong with it - him - he'd know how to fix it."
After a quick round of voiced agreements, they turned to leave. As they reached the door, the robot gave a loud, ear-piercing squeal of what is assumed to be pure terror. The four fillies cringed at the noise, and turned around in tandem. Another message was on the blackboard, again read out loud by Sweetie Belle.
"'Not Doctor. He'll fix everything.' Yeah, that's kind of the point, Samson. If you're broken, he can probably do something about it. Unless...You're scared of him?"
It pivoted horizontally, the robot equivalent for shaking his head.
"Then what is it?"
A small whistling noise, another flurry of wiping the board clean and scribbling furiously on it, and another message was ready to be read aloud by the only filly among the four who never learned to read in her head.
"'I'm only like this because of malfunction.' What do you mean? Like what?"
Another round of cleaning and writing. Another message, white chicken-scratch on black. One word.
"'Sentient'."
Everyone fell silent, even Samson. All unnecessary sound synthesizers and machinery was temporarily stalled, so as not to ruin the sobriety of the moment. And, for all that he was a sum of his parts, he knew that his continued existence was pivoted to this one decision. Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, Scootaloo spoke up.
"Well, if we can't get the Doctor, then how do we fix him?"
"Ya can't be serious," said Applebloom. "Even if we don't get th' doc, how're we s'posed to fix 'im ourselves? Ah mean..." she cleared her throat before continuing. "Ah'm handy with tools'n the like, but lookit how tiny 'e is. If ah don't burn his innards t' a crisp, it'd be a miracle; even if ah don't fix a darn'd thing."
Sweetie Belle plopped her head studiously onto her fore-hoof, obviously in thought and obviously imitating the pose of thought.
"That is a glaring problem," she turned back to the robot and Dinky, who had since then moved over to him.
"How are we going to go about this? Applebloom's right; we don't have the skills or coordination (I think I used that right.) for it. Maybe we can convince the doctor to not fix him completely?" She knew, even as she said it, what the result was going to be. Scootaloo just stood there, kicking her fore-leg back and forth. Applebloom was lost in her planning phase; no doubt she was trying to engineer some way to remedy the situation herself. It was Dinky who spoke up, though.
"I think I might know something..."
Everyone turned to look at her simultaneously, and she flinched away from all the sudden attention. After clearing her throat, she continued.
"Mom told me something about a...I think she said 'moleculizer'. It's supposed to make things really small." Sweetie Belle suddenly seemed apprehensive, Scootaloo's eyes lit up, and Applebloom was somehow shocked out of her planning mentality, looking around the room as if to make sure she didn't accidentally leave.
"We could use that, and poke around inside him, where all the wires and stuff are, and fix him that way."
Sweetie Belle spoke up first, verbally steamrolling both Scootaloo and Applebloom.
"But what if we get lost inside him? What if the machine only makes you smaller, but not bigger? And even if it still works - it's probably soaked, broken, or something else - and we can get everything to work as planned, how are we going to know what's what?"
"No, the...Moleculizer," she said the word with an odd contorting of the face, and half-stumbled over it, "makes things bigger just like it makes things smaller. And we probably wont get lost; there have to be some plans for him around here somewhere. As for knowing if we're there or not, all the parts are labeled," she continued, her face full of hope and fervor, "and if we shrink all the things we need before-hoof, we don't have to worry about not having what we might need. Besides," she turned, and went over to a honeycombed section of the wall, stuffed predominantly with blueprints, but with other knickknacks and doodads lying about, "he usually only makes and fixes things according to these ." She motioned to the wall, and continued her search. "Which means our jobs will be," she grunted as she pulled a piece of blue paper, lined with white pencil sketches from beneath a pile of detritus. She looked at the front, and broke into a huge grin.
"Easy."
They stood before the hulking machine. Sweetie Belle felt her neck arcing ever-backwards as she looked upon the truly massive thing that was the Moleculizer. Her earlier protests about it being fried, busted, or otherwise unusable seemed to pale before its monumental size, even as she felt the blood flow out of her face as she envisioned it falling over on top of her. By Celestia... Her face flushed. If I had said that out loud, and Rarity was here... Suddenly, she tasted some kind of generic soap - Rarity was stingy with her good soap when it came to punishments - in her mouth, along with an intense urge to spit it out. She shook herself, and the taste vanished, leaving behind the impression of a tongue and breath that now smelled of generic-clean. But even so, she felt emboldened; her first time saying 'Celestia'. Even if it was in her head. It wasn't really bad, is it? Just saying her name. For a second, she mused and pondered it. Then she remembered; Twilight was also a princess now. Will I get in trouble if I say her name now, too?
"Hey Sweetie Belle, snap to it," she shook herself back to the present, and was surprised to see the three others looking at her from the pad that was presumably the area affected by the Moleculizer. It was Scootaloo talking to her, and motioning to the control panel on the side of the machine, still pristine despite the mountains of debris surrounding the machine.
"This thing isn't gonna start itself, and everything that's getting shrunk is on here when the button's pressed, or it's not getting shrunk."
Suddenly, the implications of that hit her like a freight train. She was being left behind.
"But what about me? I thought I was going with you."
Applebloom shook her head, and Scootaloo continued to talk.
"One of us has to stay behind, to tell Derpy and maybe Rarity, if she ever gets back from wherever she went. Since you didn't really sound like you wanted to come along, we decided - behind your back, a bit - to, er, elect you to be that one of us."
"About that part 'bout tellin' Derpy an' Rarity," Applebloom moved to stand beside Scootaloo, taking the reins of the conversation from the other, "yer only s'posed t' do that if we're down 'n a bad way, a'right? Ah'm not sure how we'll tell ya," she turned away, a little embarassed at not having a plan for that, "but we'll pro'bly be fine."
"But...Cutie Mark Crusaders forever?"
Scootaloo and Applebloom put out a hoof to hers. She put her hoof in, and couldn't help but notice Dinky shying away from it. She motioned for the other to do the same, and it took all three of them to coax her into the most tenuous tap of her hoof on theirs. Scootaloo laughed good-naturedly, Applebloom shook her head with a wry smile, and even Sweetie Belle giggled a little. Derpy, initially either flustered or angry, eventually warmed up to the coordinated breakdown of sobriety, and giggled at her own awkwardness. When the mood died back down, the room seemed darker for it. Nothing else was said as Sweetie Belle went over to the console. Scootaloo and the rest nodded, and she hit the bright, red button labeled 'FIRE'. There was no flash of light, no sounds or explosions, or even a feeling of there being anything different. She was looking around the machine to where they were, about to suggest she try hitting the button again, when she saw that they were gone. Not a trace of them remained. She only vaguely saw what she thought was the faint outline of three fillies, climbing the insides of Samson's treads, all the painstakingly-assembled gear dangling from their shoulders. She squinted, and was surprised that she actually did see them climbing up into the machine. One of them - Dinky, she thought - turned and waved vigorously at her. She made a small wave back, and the figure turned and followed the rest into the machine.
She shook her head, and spoke softly to herself.
"What kind of a mess did we get ourselves into this time?"
End
Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Chapter 6, Part 1: Something Important
"Rarity! Rarityy! Hey, Rarity! You out here?"
Derpy called with the last of her breath, and inhaled deeply before continuing. She could feel her throat burning hotly and cracking from the strain. She didn't doubt her voice would either be hoarse or completely gone by tomorrow at this rate, but that hardly mattered beside what was at stake. She neglected to tell Rarity - as Derpy has friends who help work the weather, who know these things - that the rain was only supposed to get worse as the day went on. And it was supposed to hail, too, for some reason. Weird time for hail, she thought as she flitted in mid-air, her flanks getting smacked by big, heavy, cold drops of water. It's not even Fall yet; why would they schedule hail? She called out again, and her voice rebounded against the moist air. She sighed, and went to ground. Maybe I'll have better luck looking from down there? As she descended, she heard something that sounded like singing. In this weather? Thoroughly distracted, she flew towards the singing. When she was sure she was getting close, she crashed into an object unseen.
Rarity was cold, she was wet, and she was tired. Her hooves slogged through the mud, and for the first time in ever, she didn't care that they were dirty. She had long since grown used to the numbness that had spread from her back, like a virus, to infect every pore in her body, until she had grown utterly immune to pain and discomfort. Her eyes were open but un-seeing, grown used to the constant soggy, filthy, brown landscape that she was permitted to see through the driving rain. She had also not heard anything but the pitter-patter and drip-dropping of rain; even Opal's incessant growling and hissing had ceased by now. The monotony had not been broken by lightning for what seemed to be an eternity; one spent slogging through muddy, swampy roads. Or, what she thought was a road. She couldn't tell.
So thoroughly entrenched in this quasi-existence was she that she couldn't hear her name being called from on high. That sound, too, went unregistered as background noise as she squelched her way forward. She heard it again, and once more, but still paid it no mind. I'm going insane, she thought. I remember something from one of Twilight's books on physiology; about how, if the brain is under-stimulated, it releases hormones or something to emulate outside influence. She giggled a little to herself, thinking how silly it was. She was freezing to death, and her last thoughts were on some dusty, well-worn book on the pony psyche. For a second, she turned her head, looking around. Then she realized that the noise was her own laughter. Maybe I should've spent this time talking to myself, she thought. I got startled by the sound of my own voice. I'm not sure if that means anything, but it's probably not good. So, she did the only thing she thought to do. Under her breath, she started singing. It was a tune from a long time ago, and as she started, she was surprised that she still knew all the words. She thought back on that time with fondness; even if she wasn't in the play, those were her first successes as a seamstress. She sung the now-familiar tune, with a growing fervor, as if singing it loud and clearly might actually save her life. Maybe it will, she mused. Maybe, somehow, this might do something about the weather. Or make a warm fire, or something. Logically, singing could do no more than whistling, skipping stones, or playing chess when it came to stopping the rain, but she'd also long since forgotten logic. So she kept singing.
Her melody reached its crescendo when she was struck full-force by what felt like a freight train. Opal's bag, its clasp replaced with a slapdash substitute some time during the last chapter, fell to the ground with a slap . Suddenly, Opal was a contained torrent of hissing and growling; no doubt threatening Rarity's parentage in whatever cat language it spoke - Rarity knew for a fact that there were three known, universal cat languages, and countless tribal ones, though she was fluent in none. She picked herself off the ground, face dripping with ooze, and made her way over to Opal's bag, where it had fallen along the roadside. She picked it up, and slung it around her neck, snug, before turning to see what hit her. She reeled back, surprised. There, sitting in a heap in the middle of the road and rubbing a no-doubt aching cranium with her fore-hoof, was the last pony she expected to see. Derpy looked up from the ground, and gave her a big, lopsided smile before running over to give her the biggest hug she'd ever received. Pinkie Pie's bear-hugs have nothing on this, she thought, struggling for breath. What seemed like a small eternity later, Derpy let her go, and she plunked down on the ground, gasping for breath. After she'd sufficiently recovered, she turned back to Derpy. She spoke, her voice still a stranger to her own ears.
"How'd you- when did- why- what are you doing out here?" The other mare smiled again, as her left eye began to drift lazily away to look at what was going on over there.
"Lookin' for you, silly. There was something important about the weather that I forgot to tell you before you left..." Her hoof went up to her chin, and her eyes squinted in thought. Despite the need to focus, her left eye was apparently pleased by the happenings of over there, and continued to act of its own volition.
"But...I can't remember what it was." She sat down on the road, both eyes closed, as she slapped at her head with a hoof.
"Think, Derpy, think! It was something important...Ah...Ugh...Aha! Got it!" She all-but jumped up, and both eyes were aglow with the triumph of successfully recalling something important, though the left one could have shown a little more attentiveness and apprehensiveness at Derpy's apparently-great achievement. In short, it was still looking at the tree line to her left.
"Hail! It's gonna hail later. Or was gonna hail later; it might be later, by now."
As if on cue, hard pellets of frozen water began to rain from the sky. Soon, both were wincing as they were bombarded by the fury of a thousand normally-consumable drops of ice. It was as if the heavens decided to enact vengeance on every sip of water they've ever taken ever. Rarity shouted, though without need, over the tumult that wasn't there.
"We - ah! - gotta move!"
Derpy only nodded, and as one, they dashed off into the trees. Neither knew where they were going, but wherever it was, Opal seemed determined to complain every step of the way.
Derpy's hooves flew over the hard-packed dirt of the forest, Rarity plodding along stoically behind. I hope I remember where this is, thought Derpy. She stopped to observe their surroundings, and Rarity nearly bumped into her. Despite the other's evident sleepiness, she side-stepped the collision with a subtle grace, despite the fact that she nearly fell on her face. For a second, Derpy was green with envy; how fair was it that any one pony could just make everything look so effortless? Rarity's your friend! How could you say that - think that, actually - about her? Derpy was immediately abashed, and took the bite out of her thoughts, but otherwise left them. It really wasn't fair.
Rarity shook herself out of a stupor, her hair falling back to its normal state with no effort on her part, and asked Derpy where they were.
"We're somewhere in the Eastwood; it's like a little piece of the Everfree, but without all the spooky goings-on. Wait here for a sec, I need to see where exactly we are." At Rarity's nod, she flapped her wings and went soaring above the treetops. As soon as she cleared the last canopy, the storm hit her like a wall of bricks, determined to bring her to ground. She persevered, pushing ever higher, until the whole of the land lay out before her. For all the criticism she received about her eyes, she was a natural with directions. Maybe not long-distance, but she could find her way around her house blindfolded, even with everything re-arranged. She saw, in her head's compass, where they were, and where they should be going. It was easy to spot from the sky; a barren stretch of land about five spans in width, surrounding a stand of thickly-leaved trees. Fixing the point in her mind, she flew - fell, more than flew - back down to where Rarity was waiting. Only after she touched down did she think that she might have hit a branch on her way down. She grimaced, and Rarity was quick to ask more questions.
"So, you know where we are, now." Not a question. She gave a huge yawn, behind her hoof, and continued.
"And where we're going, I presume?"
Derpy nodded, and pointed with her hoof in the general direction of the stand of trees she spotted from the air.
"Yeah; I know a good spot to weather out the weather," she smiled awkwardly at Rarity's grin.
"It's a small ways away, but it's closer than the house. And we can't go back out in that. Just flying up there for as long as I did was exhausting, and the house isn't even in sight."
Rarity only nodded, her grin fading, and motioned for Derpy to lead the way.
They ran for a little over a half-hour before coming to the naked strip of earth that separated them from the relative safety of Derpy's old hideaway. Truth be told, she'd been out of sorts for a time, and had taken to revisiting her foal-hood retreat. And a good thing, too, lest they'd have nowhere to go to wait out the storm. She tried to think of everything she had tucked away in her old cubby-hole, but she was too exhausted to do much thinking. That storm took more out of me than I expected, she thought. A huge, gaping yawn confirmed her thoughts, and she tried to shake away the sleep. It worked, somewhat, though she still felt unsteady and drawn. She looked over her shoulder at Rarity, who swayed to-and-fro from the sheer effort of staying upright. Her eyes were partially drawn, and it took a little shake to shake her out of her reverie. She smiled, a small smile, and admitted that she had apparently fallen asleep while standing up - not an uncommon thing to hear from anypony who was that tired. Derpy put a hoof around the other's shoulder, and pointed with her other towards their woody sanctuary.
"We're going there. It might take a little bit to find the entrance, but once we're inside, we'll be safe and snug." Rarity only nodded, still half-asleep, and together, they made for the stand of trees. They reached the trees with little in the way of harm, though hail still pounded the area around them with a fury. Why hail? Derpy turned back to Rarity.
"We need to find the entrance. It shouldn't be too hard, but we're gonna split up. You go around that way, and I'll go this way," Rarity nodded as Derpy continued, "if you find it, yell. And if I find it, I'll come get you, 'kay?" Another nod, which Derpy returned. In tandem, they worked their way around opposite sides of the trees. It wasn't too long before Derpy heard a shout from Rarity's side.
"Found it! I'm going in." Derpy shouted back.
"Alright, I'll be right there."
Derpy rounded the tree, and quickly found the entrance to her secret enclave. Rarity was nowhere about, already inside as the safety of the trees. Derpy followed, ducking under dangling roots and sliding through places where the walls almost met. After about a minute of dodging and scraping, she found herself in the large, open quasi-cave she remembered from her foal-hood. And for a wonder, everything was where she had left it, for the most part. Rarity's discarded banana-yellow rain attire made a neat, folded pile by the entrance, next to her matching galoshes. In the center was a stone-lined fire-pit, and in the corner was a bunch of seasoned fire wood, split and stacked just-so. In the adjoining space, much smaller than the large, central 'cavern', was a cot and a bunch of blankets. Also, stuck up in her top-secret cubby, she could just view her old diary, along with her secret stash of plastic-wrapped muffins. In case of muffin emergencies. She nodded to herself, pleased with how little had actually changed, and set about to making a fire.
The old wood caught quickly, aided by the dry leaves collected from around the den. Before too long, there was a warm fire blazing in the middle of the woody cavern. As it blazed, a warmth permeated into the air, replacing the chill that had been present when they initially arrived, and seeping into the two ponies. A series of ah 's and ooh 's announced the simultaneous relief from the cold and strain. As the tension seeped out of her, however, Derpy felt a deep weariness. Looking over at Rarity and catching her deep yawn, she knew, too, that Rarity was just as tired as she was. She stood up, ignoring Rarity's question, and went into the adjoining room. Quickly and practiced, she picked up the cot and all the blankets, and drug them back into the main room. She returned it to its unfolded state, and motioned for Rarity to take it. The other shrunk back in reply.
"I couldn't. It wouldn't be proper; this is your ...er...cave, after all. You take the bed." Derpy shook her head.
"You're more tired. And anyway, it is my cave, and I say you take the cot." Her retort was interrupted by a huge yawn, debunking her argument entirely. Thankfully, Rarity didn't notice. She just yawned also, and murmured a little before she spoke again.
"I suppose, if you insist...I guess I could take the cot...If you're completely sure?" Derpy nodded.
"Well, thank you, then. Unless you want to share the cot, though?" Derpy looked at it, doubtfully, but it did seem large enough for them both. Rarity, taking her indecision for acceptance, started moving things from the floor to the cot. Five minutes later, they were both situated on the cot, the fire casting strange shadows on the wall. For a while, they talked. It was a rather awkward conversation, and not because they refused to acknowledge each-other's presence in the shared cot. Rarity had just broached the subject of Derpy's relationship with Dr. Whooves when the fire spluttered out, and Derpy hurriedly chimed in.
"Ohp, fire's out. Much as I'd like to talk some more about me and my life, I think I'm gonna go to sleep now. And you're more tired than I am; if I'm going to sleep, you should already be asleep."
Rarity, unable to debunk the other's logic - or the other's rump - decided to go to sleep. Coolly, she covered up with her allotted blanket, and made to sleep, as if it were her idea to begin with. Relieved, Derpy also started to drift. She thought about her life before meeting the Doctor, she thought about the weather, and for once she allowed herself to be enjoyed by entertaining thoughts putting her and the Doctor together. She heaved a deep sigh, and allowed the thoughts to dissipate. It won't happen; if it's not him, it'll be Dinky. Perfectly sullen, she rolled into her share of the blankets, and quickly drifted off to sleep.
"Wakey, wakey, sleepy-pants!"
The author grumbled from where he sat, head cradled in his arms."
"I'm not asleep."
"Oh. Well, I couldn't tell; lots of ponies look like that when I start talking - I mean really start talking - and when I'm all done, I find out that they slept through half the conversation! Ugh! Don't you hate it when ponies - or, I guess it'd be people, in your case - do that? It's a waste, is what! Waste of oxygen, waste of energy, and waste of time!"
The author raised his head just enough to hit Pinkie with his best flat-eyed stare.
"Are you done?" Pinkie Pie tilted her head, and turned her eyes to the ceiling, as if counting imaginary numbers imprinted therein. Then, she nodded.
"Yep. All done." She mock saluted, before saying in a very gruff voice, "As you were, fan-fiction writer." Then, she bounded off with resounding 'La-la-la's.
The author mumbled under his breath, and turned his attention back to the fan-fiction. As did the reader.
The sun shone through the tiniest hole in their piney alcove. From there, it went straight onto the outside of Derpy's right eyelid. Obeying her photosensitive nature, her eyes fluttered open of their own accord. She rolled over, and covered her head with her pillow, a trying to wish the sun away so that she could get more sleep. It took her a second to realize that, if the sun's shining through the top-most portion of the cave, it must be about noon. Checking the watch on her left fore-hoof - a convenient gift from a Doctor in a timeline where she didn't have the watch - her thoughts were confirmed. Quickly, she scrambled out of the cot, falling on her face in the process. Her hooves, tied as they were, were of little help as she attempted to wriggle her way out of her predicament. Just as she was nearly there, though, she felt the blankets coming off as of their own accord. Magic. She looked up, and standing there was Rarity, smiling large for everyone to see.
"I thought I'd get up a little early, and tidy up. Goodness knows how this place needed it." Derpy hadn't really noticed how dirty it had been before, but looking at it now, she could tell how dirty it had been. An ironic thought, considering their current setting, but she had to hoof it to Rarity; that pony could make even dirt presentable. And her methodo electiva was to replace everything.*
The first thing she noticed - after the stone-brick walls and flooring, completely encasing the room - was the large bookcase to her left, full to overflowing with articles of all shapes, sorts, and colors. Next was the door, to its immediate right, that presumably led to the way out. In front of it was a modest door mat, reading 'Welcome' in large cursive on its face. Just to her right of that was a coat tree, thereupon hanging Rarity's raincoat. The matching hat sat perched atop its apex, and her galoshes were set in neat pairs at its base. Continuing clockwise about the room, she saw a large painted, affixed to the wall as if by magic. Probably by magic, she thought. Next was a fireplace, made of solid marble, with two plush chairs sitting astride a piece of equally plush carpet. It even had a grate in it, to put the logs! Many more changes she noticed about her once-modest cave, and for as many exclamations of awe and surprise, Rarity responded to with reassurances that it had been 'no trouble at all'. The other had even devoted time to the adjoining room, turning it into a proper bedroom, complete with all the furnishings appropriate to its designated purpose. There was even a vanity, set up opposite the bed from a modestly-large wardrobe. As Derpy's jaw couldn't go lower without first unhinging itself, she averted her eyes for a few minutes. When she felt properly composed, she just stared about in wonder again. Rarity interrupted her thoughts with a question.
"Do you like it?"
"Like...it?"
"Yes; the changes I made? You know," Rarity shrunk back, a bit timid, now. "'Tidying up'?"
"Do I...like it?" Suddenly, Derpy had a wicked idea. She didn't know where it came from - she was considered by everyone a good-natured pony, and pranks were far-afield for her - nor why she pursued it, but she did.
"Do I like it? Rarity, I think you know what I think about the changes you made to my cave. Without my expressed permission, if I remember right." At each instance of 'your' and 'my', Rarity shrunk further away from her. On the outside, she looked furious - probably. Her forehead even had a vein pulsing, but that was from keeping a straight face, and trying not to giggle out loud. She held the silence, afraid that if she opens her mouth, that she will giggle. Rarity shrunk back some more, until it seemed that she couldn't get any smaller without pop ing out of existence. Finally, Derpy let a smile bloom on her face. She swept Rarity up in a tremendous hug, and started jumping in circles around what had been the fire pit. It was now replaced with a small fountain, gushing water down its perfectly-sculpted fjords and facets.
"I love it! IloveitIloveitIloveit!"
After making a third circuit around the fountain, spinning all the way, she put Rarity down. She looked slightly green, but she smiled nonetheless. She seemed a bit uneasy, and it wasn't Derpy's spinning about the fountain that did it.
"Oh, well. I'm glad you do." She tilted her head sideways, and squinted at one of the tapestries along the walls. She shook her head in disapproval and vexation, and sighed.
"Why in the world did I think using rubies was a good idea? The decor and landscape positively scream 'emerald'." She shook her head again. "Positively not my best work," she turned to face Derpy, "should I just re-do the whole thing? You know, 'start from scratch'? I'm absolutely positive that I can get it right this time." Derpy could only stare in awe - some more. Here was a pony who, from the ground down, re-designed and refurbished her secret foal-hood hideaway. Something about that...
"My book!" Rarity turned and looked at her questioningly.
"A book? Which one, darling? There's a whole shelf of them here; discounted, from the Ponyville library. They had too many copies - far too many, evidently - and when a generous buyer showed up to take them off their hooves, Spike was only happy to oblige me. Of course, Twilight wouldn't hear it, but then -"
"No, no! Not those books! I had...Uh...Ooh..." She fluttered nervously about the cave, looking for her lost book among the new decor. After finally discovering that it wasn't anywhere in sight, she settled into a chair with a sigh.
"It's gone. Just like that." Rarity timidly moved over to her satchel, and from there, produced the exact book she had been looking for. Sheepishly, Rarity asked.
"You meant this book, didn't you?" Frantic, Derpy snatched it away from Rarity, and quickly inspected the pages for anything torn or ripped. Rarity simply stood there, kicking imaginary dirt around the -so-clean-you-can-eat-off-it floor.
"I didn't tear or rip anything; I have more respect for literature than you're willing to accredit me. I did read a little of it, though. Is this some kind of journal from your foal-hood?" Derpy snapped the book shut in Rarity's face, causing the other to draw back just a tad. She sighed, and sat back down in the chair.
"You could say that. It's kind of a journal, but more of a memory aide. I suffered recurring amnesia as a filly, see, so I had to keep everything written down in here," she waved the book for emphasis, "so that I would remember who my parents were, or the difference between my right and my left, things like North, South, East & West, the alphabet, et cetera, et cetera." Rarity only sat there for a second.
"Do you still suffer recurring amnesia?"
"Not as often as I used to, but I've made a habit of it. Dr. Whooves says I got really good at it - writing, that is - that I might have been, or could be, a writer if I wanted to." Rarity nodded. Derpy was going to continue, but she was cut off by Rarity's shush movement. She went to her satchel, and produced from therein her own diary. It was, in true Rarity fashion, gem-studded, but not too profusely. Along the binding, the top and the bottom were rows of inset sapphires - to match her eyes - and in the middle of the cover, amethysts, arranged in painstakingly-difficult pattern, spelled out 'Rarity's Diary'. Derpy looked at her questioningly.
"It's something my friends and I do. The ones at the spa, I mean. Lotus, Aloe, Fluttershy; others, too. Anyway," she nodded her head to her diary, "when we want somepony to join our little inner-circle, we offer to swap diaries. It was Aloe who first did this with me, a few months ago, and now we're close as sisters. Which is, what you'll effectively be. If you want, that is." Derpy looked at her own, comparatively-rugged diary with uncertainty.
"You don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought that it might be difficult making friends with your...Disposition." Rarity had moved to put her diary away, when Derpy snatched it out of her hooves. Rarity, surprised, turned to look at a smiling Derpy, who freely offered her own diary to Rarity. Rarity took it, and put in in her satchel - making sure to keep it in a different pocket from where she stuffed Opal the night before. Suddenly, she bolted upright; Opal was not to be found. She related the news to Derpy, who sat grim-faced. Then, her face was covered with a wry smile.
"Well then, I guess we'll have to find your cat. Come on, she couldn't have gone very far with her disposition." Taking the hint, Rarity followed her new-found friend out of the cave. Talking over her shoulder, Derpy asked a question.
"By the way, how long did it take you to do what you did in there?" Rarity, nonchalantly, answered.
"A few hours, at maximum. I woke up not an hour after I fell asleep, and just couldn't stand how dirty an environment we were in." Derpy was dumbfounded.
"But...The bookcase. And books. And marble fireplace. Fountain, floors, bedroom!" Rarity nodded.
"In a few hours ?" Another nod. Derpy shook her head in wonder.
"When you're inspired - or peeved, I guess - you could make contract workers jealous." Rarity's eyes shone with the compliment.
"Truly?"
"Absolutely," they emerged into the sunlight, Derpy screening her eyes with a hoof. "Now, let's go find Opal."
End of chapter
Doctor, I shrunk the Fillies...
Ch 1 Rainy Days and Science-y Things
Chapter 1: Rainy Days and Science-y Things
"So," Applebloom heaved a sigh of exasperation. "what're we gonna try today, girls?"
The dark sky dropped rain by the bucket-load onto the roof of the one-room clubhouse of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The shutters were drawn, and surprisingly none of the scattered maps, memos, and other crusading paraphernalia were wet. In fact, the entire room seemed dry as aged bread, which lead to a small, inward smile. At least I can do something right, thought Applebloom. She paused to wonder once more if that was her talent; fixing things, building things, designing things. Was she Applebloom the Architect? She shook her head with a small grin. Now that was just silly; Equestria already had plenty of those, and handyponies too. Plus, she was an Apple, and it seemed that each and every one of the Apples had some skill applicable to the picking, pickling, pressing, selling, distributing, or baking of apples. Where did the thought of being an architect even come from?
Nopony stirred in the small room. Scootaloo was lying on her back, staring up at the peaked ceiling. She practically radiated boredom, and it seemed to be infecting the usually-cheerful Sweetie Belle. She just sat at the window, staring out at the pouring rain. Wow, they must really be out of it. Applebloom conferred with herself. Even when the weather is awful, they usually want to try something. What did it mean when they collectively sat down and did nothing? She walked over, and tried to nudge Scootaloo to stand. The filly swatted at her with a hoof, and rolled onto her side to stare at the wall with the map of Ponyville on it. Applebloom went over to it, thoughtful. There were hundreds of marks with little sticky-notes as a reference to the 'what' and 'where' of their endeavors. She saw where, last week in the park, they tried flying kites. Though Applebloom had already tried, the others insisted they get a chance, too, and before too long, Applebloom found herself trying her hoof at kite-flying again. Who knows; she was rushed when she tried with Rainbow Dash present, and maybe her talent just didn't have time to show itself? Before the end of the day, they were a mess of kite-string and torn pieces of fabric from where they tried fixing the kites they frequently crashed.
There was another little 'X' indicating when they went treasure hunting. It was an obstacle course, with a fake treasure at the end. Of course. There were no caves around Ponyville except the gem mine, which was strictly off-limits. But Scootaloo insisted that, if one of them did happen to be a dungeon-diver, that it would manifest itself in practice. While Sweetie Belle was dubious of that, she also encouraged the fake treasure obstacle course, saying that 'if you tried doing this for real, and found out that your talent wasn't related to this sort of thing, that'd mean trouble for sure.'. Once again, they had bungled and blundered through a day of trying different things, and nothing worked. It had come to a premature close when Scootaloo, trying to show off, slipped and scraped her leg on one of the boxes they had 'borrowed' to make the course. That had revealed a side of Scootaloo that she had been embarrassed to admit before her friends; Scootaloo was squeamish. And insatiable until she had gone to the doctor's office and had it confirmed by a rather exasperated Dr. Dowell that she wasn't going to die from the scrape, that all it needed was a bit of bandage, and that it would be perfectly fine in a few days.
She turned from the map to find Sweetie Belle now prostrate on the floor, pushing herself along with her back hooves while dragging her front uselessly behind her. Her face looked sulky; obviously Scootaloo's bad mood was more contagious than she had first thought. She watched Sweetie Belle for a short time, memorizing the pattern. The filly pushed herself in a counter-clockwise elongated oval, barely encompassing the breadth of the clubhouse before turning around and doing it again. It was oddly entertaining, but Applebloom also felt pity, and a deep sense of responsibility. She was the leader - okay, the figurehead. But in principal, she 'led' the Cutie Mark Crusaders. She felt that if Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were bored, it was her obligation to make them un-bored. But by Celestia's Mane, how was she going to do that when she didn't know what would help? They didn't seem to want to communicate. Was their boredom a conveyance of what they wanted to do? Now that was a silly thought; no matter how she tried, she couldn't picture Sweetie Belle as a snail. Sighing, Applebloom soon found herself moving back to the fore, and sitting quietly on the stool. Scootaloo looked up from where she lay, and Sweetie Belle stopped her pseudo-pacing to glance in her direction. Applebloom shook her head, and motioned to the other two.
"Ah know yer bored, but ah don't know why. Ah mean, we could be doin' somethin' , but when ah try ta find out what, y'all just shrug me off. Then, ya give me these looks, lahk this is all mah fault or sumthin'." Scootaloo stared at her intently, but Sweetie Belle's face remained deadpan.
"If yah got a problem with me, don't jus' expect me to find out what it is."
Scootaloo scoffed, but Sweetie Belle only blinked. Yeesh, thought Applebloom. They're worse'n ah thought...This's just downright bein' mean, thas what.
Scootaloo gave a small groan of exasperation as she pulled herself up off the ground. However, if the motion had any meaning beyond that Scootaloo was now standing up, Applebloom didn't know what it was. She found the other filly's eyes to be...drained. Tired. Not a good sign at all.
"Aw, Applebloom. You didn't do anything," She reached up and hugged a startled Applebloom. Since when did Scootaloo get all sappy? Or maybe this was far worse than her being afraid to show emotion. Suddenly, Applebloom's stomach formed a pit.
"It's just...We've tried everything. Everything we can all think of. Isn't that right, Sweetie Belle?" They turned to the filly in tandem, but Sweetie Belle just nodded, and continued wearing a ring into the floor of the club house. Scootaloo nodded contentedly, and turned back to Applebloom. "See? Everything we could think of, together or apart, hasn't brought any of us our cutie marks." She looked into Applebloom's eyes, but all Applebloom could see was tiredness.
"Ya mean...Ya want to disband the crusaders?" Scootaloo let out a small chuckle that held no humor.
"What? No. I mean, sure we can still be friends, and meet in the clubhouse and everything. It's just...What do we have to show for everything we've done? Nothing but scrapes and bruises for our trouble, and still no cutie mark in sight." Sweetie Belle gave a nod as she trotted over.
"Scootaloo's right, I think. We can still do stuff together, and go on adventures and stuff. But what purpose does the crusaders have when we've already done everything there is to be done? And, like Scootaloo said, no cutie marks." She shook her blank flank for emphasis, as the pit sunk deeper into Applebloom's stomach. Surely not...They're not...Are they? Scootaloo sighed, and looked Applebloom in the eyes.
"That's kinda what we wanted to talk about. We can still do stuff together, but instead of going looking for our special talents, why can't we do more...I dunno, normal things? Y'know, slumber parties at eachother's houses, going to the movies, help eachother with homework," Scootaloo's eyes shone with amusement at that last, and even Sweetie Belle smiled a bit. They all knew how Scootaloo was with homework; she didn't need help, she needed a swift kick in the plot to get her moving, though. But too quickly, the solemn faces came back. And then it came.
"Applebloom, look...I...Why...Bah! Sweetie Belle, you tell her." Scootaloo retreated to the stool beside the door, to sit and watch. Sweetie Belle turned to her.
"Applebloom, we just wanted to know if...If...If our crusading can take a back seat for a bit," There it was. "Not forever, I mean. Just until we can think of things we haven't done before. Y'know, a little...Oh, what word was it that Twilight used..? A bit of a... hiatus ? That sounds right, but... A break."
"Yeah! A break!" Scootaloo piped from her seat by the door. Clearly Applebloom's heartache showed, because she immediately fell back against the wall and blushed, while Sweetie Belle's eyes reflected her own sadness. So this is it, then? she thought bleakly. The end of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and shortly after, any reason we need to talk to eachother. Our friendship...
"A...A break...Yeah...That's what we need..." She felt herself tearing up. Sweetie Belle looked concerned, and Scootaloo was roused from her position against the wall to see what was wrong. Better to just get it over with...I guess...
"Ah...Ah need a li'l time to mahself...If y'all don't mind...Can..." Sweetie Belle stopped her mid-sentence with a hoof on her shoulder. She looked up into the most caring eyes she had ever seen.
"Sure...Sure thing," She turned, and beckoned Scootaloo to wait with her outside. And she clarified that it was waiting; the meeting wasn't done yet, even if the Cutie Mark Crusaders were. Applebloom felt herself breaking down when there was a knock on the door. Curiosity stifled mourning for a second, as she got up and went to see who it was. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo didn't knock; it had to be somepony else. She undid the latch, and opened the door to find-
"Derpy!? What..?" The mailmare stood outside in the rain, her lopsided grin as full as she'd ever seen it, and accentuating her equally skewed eyes. Just looking at that face brought a smile to Applebloom's face, even if she felt her eyes tearing up again. The other stood outside in the pouring rain, her mane getting soaked and matted to her face.
"Hiya, Applebloom!" She stuck her head in, and looked around the room. She seemed disappointed, but then, why? She had never been a close part of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but she was considered an honorary member because of her social status as a fellow outcast. She had even helped them with some of their more hare-brained schemes, including that one with the boxes. Her grin quickly turned into a disappointed frown.
"Where's Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle? Is the meeting over already?"
"They're...They're not gonna to be around no more, ah guess..." Thankfully, Derpy didn't press the issue. She only nodded understandingly, as she stood out in the rain.
"Uh...Don't ya have to deliver letters today?" As stated above, they were never really close to Derpy, but they knew her work schedule well enough, for they've been getting letters since their fiasco as 'Gabby Gums'. There had even been one from a real Gabby Gums, in Manehattan, who also happened to be a real reporter. After clearing up that there had been no intention of identity fraud, she had become quite an amiable pen-pall. She had even, upon one occasion, managed to get them tickets to a Wonderbolts convention that had been held in Manehattan, which warranted a special trip - accompanied by relatives and, of course, Rainbow Dash - to Manehattan to meet with both the Wonderbolts and their mysterious donor. Applebloom felt herself smiling; Gabby Gums had been way nicer to them than they warranted for that particular incident, yet she had waved the whole thing off as happenstance.
She turned to find Derpy shaking her head, her soaked mane flinging water about.
"Nope. I finished early today; I was kinda hoping to ask you a question..." Derpy shifted around nervously, eyeing the inside of the clubhouse again. She gave Applebloom a weak smile, as her eyes went askew again. When did they get normal? Applebloom motioned her inside, and found herself ducking out of the way as Derpy came barreling into the clubhouse, shaking her mane in a fury. Water splashed everywhere; apparently Derpy's mane acted like a sponge. She looked at the mess she caused, and seemed both sorry and amused. Applebloom shook her head in exasperation. Only Derpy.
She took a seat and motioned for her guest to do the same. The small chest indicated creaked ominously under Derpy's weight, yet she was unperturbed. She gave Applebloom another smile, as she set about ringing the rest of her mane out.
"So, I was thinking. You three are all friends who don't have their cutie marks, right?" Applebloom nodded, a touch of sadness entering her. No; she would not think about it. She had to stay strong. Deep breaths. When she recovered, she found Derpy looking at her askew - well, more askew than normal, anyway. She motioned for the other to continue, and felt a tad awkward. Derpy was older, an adult! Shouldn't she be leading the conversation? Then she remembered Derpy's social backwardness. It wasn't as bad as Fluttershy's, but it was...Different. And even so, she was sort of doing the conversing.
"Well, I kinda thought...You three are outcasts, right? Sorta? And, so is Dinky...And..."
"A'course Dinky can join! Why'd'ja think ya had ta ask?" She jumped up from where she had sat and gave Derpy a big hug. The young mare seemed astonished at the reaction, yet when it passed, Applebloom found herself being hugged back. She tried to pull back, but Derpy wouldn't let go.
"Derpy...Strangling...Ack!"
"Oops! Sorry! Sorry!" She soon found herself on the floor, where Derpy had dropped her. The older mare gave her a smile that said she was both embarrassed and sorry. Applebloom couldn't help but raise a forehoof to her neck, and found it intact. She stood back up, and faced Derpy.
"'Ts alraht...ow...
"Ya don't happen ta have any ideas, though, do ya? Y'know, for the stuff? We've done run out; we can't think of nothin' ta try." Derpy raised a forehoof to her chin in thought, then pulled it away in the typical 'eureka! ' fashion.
"I got it! I've got this other job, working with Dr. Whoof. Fixing stuff. But it's very science-y; maybe that's what your talent is!" Applebloom saw the clouds part, both in her mind and over the tree house. She could lay claim to some pretty sharp eyesight, and noticed lots of Pegasi working to clear away that day's storm refuse. She felt herself smile. She raised a hoof for Derpy to shake.
"It's an idea!"
End of Ch 1