Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
The Ponyville Project
Apple Bloom looked up at the machine, dread and excitement brawling for the front seat of her brain. The monstrosity in front of her gave off malignant vibes. Scotaloo was smiling. Sweetie Belle was frowning and listening to things only she could hear. Apple Bloom sighed and focused again on the... the thing in the barn.
It was a big machine, almost as tall as the building in which it was sitting. It was an unholy mess of cables, cogs, pipes and one of Big Mac‘s old torques pulsing slowly along some demented beat she couldn‘t identify. In a few points the corners were wrong. Not wrong in the sense of a sloppy work. No, wrong as in they reduced ponies looking at them for too long to a gibbering mess.
Apple Bloom felt that this was the decision that would shape her whole future, she only hoped there would be a future after it. “Are we really sure we should do this?“
Scotaloo stared at the machine. “Of course. We have to get our cutie marks. I am eighteen now, I can’t wait anymore.”
Sweetie Belle frowned. “I like the idea, at least as an abstract thing, but now that I see it...”
Scotaloo looked at her and pointed at a massive tome on a side of the building. It was big enough to slightly curve the light around it. “We have tried everything else. Our crusades have literally created new sciences—”
“Shouldn’t that be fields of science?”
“Did you forget the manipulation of archetypal properties? As we discovered that ‘Non-inflammable’ was a characteristic you can remove?”
“Oh, that…”
“Yeah, that. We are also the cause for the largest extensions to Equestrian laws in the last millennium. And we still got NOTHING.” She waved at the machine. “If this isn’t the thing, I give up.”
Apple Bloom scratched her chin. “You know, I’m still unconvinced that ONTOLOGICAL WEAPON ENGINEERS is a solid career choice. I mean, if it’s our destiny, what are we gonna do with it? It’s not like we can build more than one of this horrors. Or at least I think so.”
Sweetie Belle turned to her friends. “That is what I’m a teeny-weeny bit worried about. I don’t want to become Death, Destroyer of Worlds.”
Scotaloo threw her hooves in the air. “You can’t chicken out now. You’ve written the equations!”
Sweetie Belle blushed. “They were pretty and the voices that whispered to me were very kind.”
Apple Bloom sighed and massaged her temples. “I don’t care who has written what, violated which laws of nature—”She glanced at Scotaloo”—or smuggled Casus-Belli-worthy amounts of arcanite. Or that I had to learn what Casus Belli means.” She slumped down and lowered her voice, ”I really hope Granny Smith doesn’t open the cellar.”
The Crusaders guiltily looked at each other.
Apple Bloom sighed again, something she was doing an awful lot of times lately. “We have to decide if we wanna turn it on or not.”
Scotaloo said, “There’s nothing to decide. If you two don’t do it then I’ll gonna do it alone.”
Apple Bloom glared at her, “You can’t, we are in this together.”
Scotaloo grabbed Apple Bloom’s shoulders, a manic look in her eyes. “Eighteen! Apple Bloom, I’m eighteen. I’m not a late bloomer anymore, I’m a case study. Twilight has published an article about us. I’ve old ponies in lab coats spying on me when I sleep. I can’t take it anymore.”
Sweetie Belle scratched symbols in the dirt, their forms wiggled and collapsed on themselves when one looked at them. “Thinking about it, I think it won’t be a disaster this time.” She giggled, “Oh Xrrhr’rt, you are such a charmer.”
Apple Bloom turned to her. “How can you be sure? And no talking with Outsiders, it’s creepy.”
Sweetie Belle contemplated her writing with a thousand mile stare. “Well, we still exist. If we made an error then the chronological backlash would have eradicated us back in time voiding the concept of causality.” Her friends looked at her with bemused expressions. “I’m reasonably sure that we will not destroy time.”
“And what about existence the moment we turn it on?”
Sweetie Belle shrugged, “If it’s not our destiny it probably won’t work, otherwise we are done for good anyway with a horrible vocation.” She bowed her head, cackled and murmured, “I know you have faith in us, thank you.”
Scotaloo walked to the machine, “Good enough for me.” She pulled the lever.
It was a big machine, almost as tall as the building in which it was sitting. It was an unholy mess of cables, cogs, pipes and one of Big Mac‘s old torques pulsing slowly along some demented beat she couldn‘t identify. In a few points the corners were wrong. Not wrong in the sense of a sloppy work. No, wrong as in they reduced ponies looking at them for too long to a gibbering mess.
Apple Bloom felt that this was the decision that would shape her whole future, she only hoped there would be a future after it. “Are we really sure we should do this?“
Scotaloo stared at the machine. “Of course. We have to get our cutie marks. I am eighteen now, I can’t wait anymore.”
Sweetie Belle frowned. “I like the idea, at least as an abstract thing, but now that I see it...”
Scotaloo looked at her and pointed at a massive tome on a side of the building. It was big enough to slightly curve the light around it. “We have tried everything else. Our crusades have literally created new sciences—”
“Shouldn’t that be fields of science?”
“Did you forget the manipulation of archetypal properties? As we discovered that ‘Non-inflammable’ was a characteristic you can remove?”
“Oh, that…”
“Yeah, that. We are also the cause for the largest extensions to Equestrian laws in the last millennium. And we still got NOTHING.” She waved at the machine. “If this isn’t the thing, I give up.”
Apple Bloom scratched her chin. “You know, I’m still unconvinced that ONTOLOGICAL WEAPON ENGINEERS is a solid career choice. I mean, if it’s our destiny, what are we gonna do with it? It’s not like we can build more than one of this horrors. Or at least I think so.”
Sweetie Belle turned to her friends. “That is what I’m a teeny-weeny bit worried about. I don’t want to become Death, Destroyer of Worlds.”
Scotaloo threw her hooves in the air. “You can’t chicken out now. You’ve written the equations!”
Sweetie Belle blushed. “They were pretty and the voices that whispered to me were very kind.”
Apple Bloom sighed and massaged her temples. “I don’t care who has written what, violated which laws of nature—”She glanced at Scotaloo”—or smuggled Casus-Belli-worthy amounts of arcanite. Or that I had to learn what Casus Belli means.” She slumped down and lowered her voice, ”I really hope Granny Smith doesn’t open the cellar.”
The Crusaders guiltily looked at each other.
Apple Bloom sighed again, something she was doing an awful lot of times lately. “We have to decide if we wanna turn it on or not.”
Scotaloo said, “There’s nothing to decide. If you two don’t do it then I’ll gonna do it alone.”
Apple Bloom glared at her, “You can’t, we are in this together.”
Scotaloo grabbed Apple Bloom’s shoulders, a manic look in her eyes. “Eighteen! Apple Bloom, I’m eighteen. I’m not a late bloomer anymore, I’m a case study. Twilight has published an article about us. I’ve old ponies in lab coats spying on me when I sleep. I can’t take it anymore.”
Sweetie Belle scratched symbols in the dirt, their forms wiggled and collapsed on themselves when one looked at them. “Thinking about it, I think it won’t be a disaster this time.” She giggled, “Oh Xrrhr’rt, you are such a charmer.”
Apple Bloom turned to her. “How can you be sure? And no talking with Outsiders, it’s creepy.”
Sweetie Belle contemplated her writing with a thousand mile stare. “Well, we still exist. If we made an error then the chronological backlash would have eradicated us back in time voiding the concept of causality.” Her friends looked at her with bemused expressions. “I’m reasonably sure that we will not destroy time.”
“And what about existence the moment we turn it on?”
Sweetie Belle shrugged, “If it’s not our destiny it probably won’t work, otherwise we are done for good anyway with a horrible vocation.” She bowed her head, cackled and murmured, “I know you have faith in us, thank you.”
Scotaloo walked to the machine, “Good enough for me.” She pulled the lever.