“So, magic,” Doug says, a slight frown at his lack of understanding. “How do you detect it?”

“Well,” Dr. Sharps answers as Dr. Horse and Dr. Whorlson engage in a lengthy conversation with the enchanted sheet of paper on their clipboard, “There are three primary areas, or axes, that we scan: density, intensity, and frequency.” He goes to Ponyville General’s thaumic resonator, giving it a friendly tap. “These show up in a normal thaumic scans by how closely spaced the different lights, or ‘nodes’, are, how brightly they shine, and how often they blink.”

Doug glances at Rarity, who nods along. Rainbow Dash looks out of her depth, and shares a somewhat bored expression with Applejack. He sighs at the mare’s lack of interest, finding the subject fascinating, even if it’s something he might never himself be gifted with.

The silent ‘discussion’ over the clipboard slowly grows more heated as Dr. Horse snatches the pencil from Dr. Whorlson, crossing out lines and scribbling something else in return. The entirety, corrections and all, disappears.

“Now,” Dr. Sharps continues, “pregnancy is one of the most intensely magical processes a pony goes through, similar to a Wonderbolt routine.”

A loud ‘pfff’ escapes Rainbow Dash’s muzzle, the pegasus sitting back on her haunches to cross her forelegs and stare at the doctor.

Dr. Sharps chuckles. “Well, perhaps not as intense, this is a routine that lasts months instead of minutes. It taxes both foal and mare to the utmost.”

“Ah’ve been exhausted every day,” Applejack interrupts, quite worried. She stands a little taller, clearly paying attention now. “Is that gonna hurt her, or…” She gulps, Rainbow Dash also looking stricken.

“As long as you’re not losing consciousness, you should be fine,” Dr. Sharps answers after a moment’s thought. “We’ll talk more about that when we get to intensity.”

Dr. Horse throws his forelegs up in exasperation, his cane keeping him balanced, and starts pacing back and forth. Dr. Whorlson merely rolls his eyes, reading through the lines that show up and occasionally adding one of his own.

Dr. Sharps flicks on the unmodified thaumic resonator, motioning for Applejack to step into the resulting beam of light. She does, her orange fading away to a series of brilliant red dots, the same as the apples on her flank. Well, some of them are bright, many of the ones concentrated by her belly dim or even missing.

“Hmm,” Dr. Sharps says, a hoof scratching at his chin as he ponders the implications.

“Hmm?” Applejack echoes, looking back at her belly. Her Stetson is barely discernible, her mane slightly less so, and the lack of either is somewhat creepy. “Ah don’t see her!”

“It’s the same issue we had before,” Dr. Sharps reassures. “Hopefully the other resonator will shed some light on the issue.”

“Har har,” Applejack laughs without a hint of humor.

Dr. Whorlson watches the show intently, Dr. Horse also pausing his pacing to observe.

Dr. Sharps narrates, “Density is easily quantifiable. How many nodes do you see. As you can make out, Applejack is quite dense as far as her nodes are concerned.” Applejack nods, her smile difficult to make out. “Most earth ponies are, and a higher density often translates to more endurance.”

“Eeyup,” Applejack adds.

“So, with there being a lack of density,” Doug says, pointing at her belly. He steps into the field to do so, and the ambient air - which shows up with a soft white glow - goes black. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Dr. Sharps hedges for a second, his muzzle pursing. “Most ponies prefer… vastly prefer a higher density. Magic gives us a boost in all aspects of life. By harnessing and utilizing our magic ponies are able to push themselves harder, fly faster - indeed, at all - and perform feats of magic. This extends to the individual organs, and to the womb. After all, if a pony always has access to her magic, why not?”

“And the downside?” Doug asks, at the same time hoping there is an upside for his foals, if they are impoverished in this area.

“It takes time and effort to train your body to utilize that magic, and to devote it to a specific area.” Dr. Sharps motions to Rainbow Dash. She steps into the field, next to Applejack, her body shifting to a slightly more vivid blue, the same as her lightning bolt cutie mark. It is obvious how bright her wings are compared to the other areas of her body. “Other areas suffer for that specialization, and a pony with less… how shall I say, thaumic potential will not require the same training, though their abilities will tend to be more well rounded.”

Doug nods. Jack of all trades? Hopefully they can live with that.

“A pony's maximum intensity,” Dr. Sharps continues, “is how many thaums they can direct towards any particular task. It is bounded primarily by practice and to a lesser extent frequency. In fact, it gives us a lower bound on a pony's prowess, as well as an upper limit. A pony can only expend so many thaums before she runs the risk of incapacitation. Or, taken to the extreme, even death.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash drop their heads just slightly.

“It’s unlikely you would be physically capable of pushing yourself that hard,” Dr. Sharps reassures. “Our bodies, in fact, do not allow ourselves to go below the minimum needed to sustain life. As I said earlier, magic is essential to the function of our individual organs; going below that amount results in system failure and potentially worse. While taking care of a foal in utero, your minimum intensity thus rises to compensate, which is why you feel weaker or exhausted earlier; it’s simply your body telling you that you need to slow down.”

“Like why you shouldn’t go swimming right after you’ve eaten,” Doug says.

“Precisely. The last, frequency, is a bit more of a tradeoff.” Dr. Sharps motions for Rarity to join them. Her body shifts to a light blue, the same as her aura and diamond cutie mark. While Applejack has the most nodes, and Rainbow Dash’s are brighter, hers seem to blink on and off a little faster. “The higher the frequency, the more quickly a pony can change their focus, charge their power, but lower frequencies tend to recharge their expended stores faster.”

“I always did need to rest my horn on occasion,” Rarity admits, “but my mass control is nearly unparalleled.”

“And, with the basics out of the way,” Dr. Sharps turns off Ponyville’s machine, motioning towards Dr. Horse.

“Thank you for that… stirring introduction,” Dr. Horse says, his hoof spinning around in circles like the same visual illusion the blinking lights produced. He swings around the modified resonator so it is aimed at the three mares, flicks a switch at the top and waits for the lights to come on.

Nothing happens.

“What now?” Dr. Horse demands, staring into the projector.

With a distinct thrum the resonator blinks on, blinding the doctor and to a lesser extent the mares. He reels backwards, stumbling into Applejack. The earth pony has a hoof raised to block the light, only her greater mass and tensed position stopping Dr. Horse from knocking over each of them in turn.

“I think that’s what Sunset Shimmer meant by it doesn’t perform as well,” Dr. Whorlson mentions. He’s glad Dr. Horse can’t see his smirk, but suspects the doctor knows of his schadenfreude regardless.

“The least she could have done was warn us,” Dr. Horse retorts bitterly. He holds a hoof in front of his face, sweeping it side to side.

“I’m sure it was forefront on her mind,” Dr. Whorlson chipperly replies. “And it’s a good thing you don’t need to see to project.”

“But I like my eyes,” Dr. Horse petulantly whines. “They’re part of what makes me me.”

“Ah don’t suppose you can turn that down?” Applejack asks, still blocking the light with a red coursing hoof.

“Let’s see,” Dr. Whorlson says, looking at the two switches on the top. Neither of them are labeled. He raises a hoof, about to flick the one next to what he assumes is the on/off switch, since that’s the one Dr. Horse hit to turn it on.

“No!” Dr. Horse shouts, holding a hoof out melodramatically. “You might kill us all!”

“I somehow doubt that,” Dr. Whorlson deadpans. He flicks it anyway.

The light dims slightly. Each of the nodes on the ponies turns a bit darker as a marker appears next to each. Faint lines can be seen running from some of the nodes to others, forming a crisscrossing web that seems to originate from the center of each mare’s barrel.

Dr. Whorlson flicks a part of the paper, and long streams of numbers automatically populate, disappearing as soon as a full page is reached.

It takes a few long moments of everypony staring in wonder before Dr. Horse steps forward. He’s wielding a long stick he cannibalized from his walker, poking Applejack in the flank.

“There,” he says, his surprise quickly contained. The other ponies follow his gaze. “There’s a second core.”

“That can’t be,” Dr. Whorlson and Dr. Sharps say at the same time.

Dr. Whorlson continues, still mesmerized, “It’s the same.”

“Not just the same,” Dr. Horse continues. “Exactly the same.” He glances at Doug. “Apparently Harmony couldn’t decide what to do with your ‘zero’, so she just copied over hers.” He jabs Applejack in the flank again.

“What does that mean?” Doug asks, the least stunned of anyone in the room.

“Nothing? Everything?” Dr. Horse shrugs. “It’s never been recorded before, but there’s nothing inherently wrong or unstable about it.” He motions to the second core. “Harmony obviously thinks they’re different, so unless they get the same cutie mark you’re fine.” He pauses a moment. “Probably.” A hoof dips inside his jacket, pulling out a bottle of pills. He pops one.

“The same cutie mark?” Rarity asks curiously.

“Hey, Ah don’t need a clone’a mahself runnin’ round the farm,” Applejack says quickly. She gulps. “But, if’n that’s what she is, then so be it.”

“Can you imagine what I can do with a second me?” Rainbow Dash exclaims, flapping her wings excitedly.

“Well, that’s assuming they can get your cutie mark while you’re still alive,” Dr. Horse says nonchalantly.

It draws three gasps from the mares. Rarity states, “Plenty of ponies have identical cutie marks.”

“Similar,” Dr. Horse counters. “Not identical.” He turns back to Applejack’s belly and the barely visible nodes inside. “However, we can differentiate between the nodes based on which ‘web’, which core, they belong to. So we can see that your filly, um...”

“Applejack,” the farmpony replies testily.

“Right.” Dr. Horse doesn’t seem to care. “It’s difficult to count, because there are lines going to nodes that aren’t there. Or at least have been drained to zero.”

“They shouldn’t drain to zero,” Dr. Whorlson says with a touch of worry.

“Unless they’re using him as a template,” Dr. Horse retorts, pointing at Doug. He looks a bit put out that he has to explain, but more than happy to strut his stuff. “Because pregnancy and growing is such a tasking process, a foal's nodes will generally be at their minimum intensity. However, your foal has what appears to be a minimum intensity of zero.”

“What does that mean for them?” Doug asks plainly.

“It could mean nothing.” Dr. Horse shrugs as he eyes Doug appraisingly. “If you survive with no magic, perhaps they can as well. But it makes it hard to get an accurate read on their maximum intensity. Most ponies bottom out around a sixth of their maximum. And we’re unlikely to see what their maximum is until after they’re born.”

“So, the number of nodes is…” Doug asks, trying to count the innumerable nodes.

“Again, difficult to parse due to the dimness. They also have quite the low frequency. The output seems exceptionally low.” Dr. Horse nods to himself as the paper records all the information they are seeing for later perusal. “But that continues with the trend we're seeing. Their output might not be great, but their endurance will be unparalleled.”

“What does that mean?” Rainbow Dash asks, her words stained with worry. She doesn’t want to, can’t imagine a future with a filly that can’t fly. But even if they’re like Bulk Biceps, and need to put in a little, or even a lot, of extra effort, she knows she’ll put the hours, days, weeks, years, in, if necessary.

Dr. Horse’s muzzle purses. He hates being put on the spot when he doesn’t have all the solutions. But that’s the fun in these mysteries, in chasing out the unsolved questions nopony else can answer. “At this point,” he says, motioning to the clipboard and paper still abuzz with activity, “my team and I will work to figure it out. Until then, I’d recommend you keep doing what you’re doing.”

“But they’re healthy, right?” Rainbow Dash begs. Her eyes water, her muzzle quivering in fear.

Dr. Horse takes a deep breath, turning the machine off. “From what we can tell. But, as I’m sure you know, there isn’t a lot of precedent to go on.”

“I guess we’ll make do with what we have,” Doug says, attempting to reassure his mares with a rub to their ears. It seems to work best with Applejack, but both Rarity and Rainbow Dash uneasily press their sides into him.

“What did you expect?” Dr. Horse says darkly as he turns to the tablet. “We’d have a neat resolution at the end of forty minutes?”

Next Chapter: Ch. 87 - Mark of the Shaper Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 2 Minutes