Among the gauges and gadgets slapdashed onto the refurbished train engine must be a trombone, xylophone, and a full set of timpani. Either that or the heaves and wheezes of the mechanical marvel perfectly mimic the sort of musical accompaniment that would make Pinkie Pie proud; it beats along with the head bobbing and leg tapping of Flim and Flam as they gear up for some sort of melodic presentation.

The clean-shaven one, presumably Flim based on Applejack’s greeting, bounds over to Lyra, the next Ponyvillian in line, as he bursts into song.

“~Now, lookie what we got here, brother of mine! It’s the same in every town!
Ponies with thirsty throats, dry tongues, and not a drop of cider to be found!~”

Bon Bon, the previous first pony in line, takes a wary look at the frothy mug of cider Lemon just poured her and ever-so-slowly slips it behind her and out of sight of her roommate. Lyra, meanwhile, is subjected to Flim cracking her mouth open, peering inside to confirm that there really is no cider lurking around, and leaving her to pant with her tongue hanging out while he dances to the next pony in line.

“Here ya go!” Lemon calls as she pours another mug, but to no avail; Lyra, like many of the others in line, is completely focused on the salesunicorns as they bandy about. Even Celestia seems swept up in the ferver, if restrained as a Princess should; her head bobs minutely along, a faint smile not quite hidden behind an impassive facade.

“~Maybe they’re not aware that there’s really no need for this teary despair!~”

“~That the key that they need to solve this sad cider shortage you and I will share~!”

“Cider shortage?!” Applejack exclaims as Flam motions to the vehicle with a wide sweep of his leg. “Now hold up, y’all!”

Ponies slowly make their way forward, abandoning their places in line to get a better view of the contraption on display. Even Rainbow Dash hovers above the crowd and slowly draws closer. She wouldn’t want to make Applejack angry, of course, but finds the idea of extra cider - especially an unlimited amount! - quite intriguing.

A murmur slowly grows among the crowd, the whispers of ‘Cider?’ quickly turning toward muted exclamations and barely-curtailed enthusiasm. As it gets louder it morphs into a chant, a metronome of sorts keeping a pace as quick as the brothers’ song. It ebbs and flows with the lyrics; any time the two finish a verse it redoubles, only to fade into the background as they start their assurances anew.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Doug calls, attempting to interrupt the song by leaping over the fence and pointing at the vehicle. “Forget the cider! You drove this?”

His interruption is to no avail; ponies gasp at the thought of giving up promises of cider as the Flim Flam brothers burst into their chorus.

“~You’ve got opportunity
In this very community!
He’s Flim!
He’s Flam!
Travelling salesponies nonpareil!~”

“Nonpa-what?” Pinkie Pie asks, walking up to the other side of the fence from Doug. She looks confused, though by no means the only one their whirlwind presentation is blowing by.

“Unparalleled,” Doug answers absentmindedly, still stunned by the fact that the two unicorns drove here. Flim bandies past him, singing.

“~Nonpareil, and that’s exactly the reason why, you see.
No pony else in this whole place will give you the chance to be where you need to be.
And that’s a new world, with tons of cider!
Fresh squeezed and ready for drinking!~”

“~More cider than you could drink in all your days of thinking!~”

“Wait just a dog-gone second!” Applejack shouts as Flim and Flam dance about on two legs. “There ain’t no cider shortage here! We were takin’ a break an’ lettin’ our grinder get caught up with the rest of us!”

Applejack points at Rainbow Dash, who has the good sense to look skeptical of the Flim Flam Brother’s claims. Or perhaps just their last one about having too much cider. And then at Doug, who has given up trying to interrupt and is inspecting the wheels and axles of the vehicle.

“~A bold claim! Wouldn’t you agree, sister?~”

Flim sings back, sauntering over to the cider stand. He flashes Celestia a winning smile as he passes her; she returns a mirthful yet curtailed nod. The familiarity with which he treats the Princess enhances his image in the eyes of the ponies, more than a few unicorn mares eyeing the split-apple adorned flanks.

“~But any whorse can make a claim, and any pony can do the same!~”

“Excuse me?” Applejack spits out, staring down the unapologetic unicorn.

“We,” Flim starts, less singing and more talking rapidly, “the Flim Flam brothers, hereby do solemnly swear that we can produce as much, if not more, cider with the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000! And we’ll do it without the whole kingdom of Canterlot helping!”

Applejack’s muzzle purses to a thin line. It’s not that they have the whole kingdom helping, either. And the two ponies they have from Canterlot aren’t helping all that much; in fact, she doubts she could have demanded (or possibly even accepted) help from the Princesses. Except Twilight is working, but she still has trouble thinking of the somewhat recently minted alicorn as a princess.

Flim must have detected Applejack’s thoughts from the way she glances at each of the ponies in question, then at the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He launches back into song.

“~I suppose by now you’re wondering about our peculiar mode of transport.~”

“~I say, our mode of locomotion!~”

Applejack groans as Flam joins in, rubbing at her head. “Doug, any help?”

“It’s either ingenious or insane,” Doug says from underneath the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He’s recovered enough to keep some of his wits about him as Flim and Flam keep edging the crowd onward. He explains, “It looks like they sawed off the front half of a train engine and mounted it onto an improvised chassis. Can’t tell you more without opening it up.”

Twilight Sparkle walks up, horn lit and eyes shining a blinding white. “Nothing terribly out of the ordinary. Lightweight thaumic reactor, organic feed with some spare coal, that powers both the drivetrain and kinetic effects. It’s currently on manual power, which means they charge it with their horn to do anything. And then there’s an absolute mess of spells, only about a third of which appear necessary, that trigger when-”

“-A proprietary mess of spells!” Flim interrupts, sidling next to Twilight and wrapping a hoof around her barrel. “That a Princess of the realm surely wouldn’t want to unfairly expose to any number of potential competitors, yes?”

Twilight stops talking, glancing back with a slightly sheepish grin.

“Though I can’t say the curiosity is either unanticipated or unwelcome! In fact, dear Princess, would you prefer a sneak peak, or to see it in action?” Flim motions to a small side window that shows a glimpse of the inner workings: a conveyor belt, with a red and green light as well as a switch.

“A-action?” Twilight says with a cautious glance at Applejack. She can feel the anticipation growing inside her, a pressing need to see this contraption in action nearly as powerful as the otherponies’ lust for cider.

“What do you say, Apples?” Flim goads as he steps in front of Applejack. “Care to step into the modern world and put the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 to the test?”

“Modern world?” Doug interjects before Applejack can respond. The orange pony fumes nonetheless. “You’re telling me that modern Equestria has complex machines like motors?”

“You’ve seen some of the more thaumically-based ones used in hospitals,” Rarity explains cautiously, careful not to draw Applejack’s ire. “X-rays, thaumic resonators, even some communications equipment. Though they tend to be more of a specialist’s gear than something widespread.”

“I’ve rebuilt a reactor like this-” Twilight motions to the back of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, “-as well as constructed a resonator from scratch. But thaumic equipment like this is a Nightmare to maintain. Um.” She glances at Luna, gulping, though the cobalt alicorn’s eyes merely narrow a fraction as she takes a sip of her cider. “If you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Doug’s hands writhe against each other, itching to get a hold of just about anything mechanical. He subconsciously finds Twilight’s head and scratches behind her ears as he continues staring at the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. She finds the gesture pleasant, if a bit distracting; there are spells she needs to study! “I would absolutely love to see that in action, if not do it myself. Then, rather than manually pulling carts of apples, we could be driving a truck?”

“Sweet Apple Acres in particular,” Rarity covers as her lead mare growls, ”and Ponyville in general tend toward more… rustic methods for day-to-day life. The same is true of Equestria as a rule of hoof, though I foresee that changing in the future, if you catch my drift.”

Doug scratches at his chin, hiding his concern. Chrysalis had expressed interest in what he knew about airplanes; what other technological boundaries would she and her brood push? And does he feel comfortable giving up whatever secrets he knows, even if those secrets only consist that a certain concept is possible with a vague idea of how to implement it?

“Ya can’t forget,” Applejack retorts. She keeps most of the vitriol from her voice, but enough seeps through to void a barrel from their quality control. “This here farm’s ‘rustic methods’ are what keep our quality so high.” Behind her, Granny Smith nods along, proud her grandfilly is keeping with the Apple way of doing things. “Just ‘cause some newfangled way saves a few minutes’ time don’t mean it’s somethin’ worth doin’. Or won’t have unintended effects.”

Flim sings back, throwing Applejack a wink.

“~Then with impunity you decline this opportunity and leave the community in shambles?~”

“~That the only drink that they might sink is nettle wine from brambles?~”

Flam gives Applejack a teary-filled, mournful look, which is immediately copied by half the ponies waiting for their chance at imbibing the delicious, fresh-pressed Sweet Apple Acres cider. Even Berry Punch, whose blackberry wine has been a popular alternative, is distraught at the thought of not wetting her throat with the promised cider.

“Well, no, Ah ain’t sayin’ that,” Applejack says, taken aback slightly. She gulps as she scans the multitude of thirsty ponies and the chant that spontaneously springs up from them.

“~Please Flim, please Flam!
Help us out of this jam!
With your Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000!~”

“Young filly,” Flim charmingly implores of Applejack with a courting smile.

She’s taken aback by the appellation; after three foals, with a fourth on the way, she rarely thinks of herself as an eligible filly, a nubile mare who might catch a stallion’s eye. She blushes, smiling demurely, with a strong desire to pull her Stetson off and fan herself.

“I would be ever so honored if you might see fit to let my brother and I borrow some of your delicious, and might I add spellbindingly fragrant apples for our little demonstration here?”

“Uh,” Applejack says to Flim’s request, her tongue still tied. Normally it would be sixteen bits for a bushel of apples of their bumper crops, but price is the last thing on her mind. “Sure, Ah guess.” She turns to find her eldest filly. “Apple Bloom, kindly get our guests two bushels of apples for their test.”

“Um, okay,” Apple Bloom says, moving to Rarity’s ‘lovely’ pile and loading up a basket.

“Excuse me, Miss Apple Bloom,” Flim says with a wide grin as he comes up behind her. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate the fantastic effort that each and every one of you have put into picking out the freshest, most carefully hoof-selected fine ingredients. But for this to be a truly remarkable and demonstrative demonstration of the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000’s impressive capabilities, I do believe it would be more appropriate for us to use those apples.”

“You got it,” Apple Bloom says with an enthusiastic nod, scampering over to the cart laden with unsorted baskets of Granny Smith apples. She hauls four next to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000, then gathers with everypony else to watch the magic.

“Watch closely, friends!”

Flim and Flam power up their horns, an apple green aura surrounding both the levers and knobs at their control booth. Beeps and whirrs emanate as the machine comes to life. A snake-like tube spills out from the side, the gray funnel aiming directly at the first basket. It vacuums up the apples with startling haste, greedily switching to the next as soon as the first is finished. The initial glut of apples from each basket stretches the pliable material, a bulge traveling down into the main body.

As soon as the last apple disappears down the gray gullet it turns to the nearest pony, and if it had been a bear they would swear it sniffs them, dipping down slightly and then creeping closer as if needing a second whiff. A flick of a switch, though, and it immediately retracts, slipping back into the machine.

“Now, here’s where the magic happens,” Flim explains as the first of the apples comes to the window. The conveyor pauses on each apple, one in ten failing the process and dropping off the side. The apples that pass continue on to parts unknown, but most likely the whirling barrel that spins at speeds the Apple’s treadmill couldn’t hope to match.

“Right here in this heaving, roiling, cider-press-boiling guts of the very machine! Those apples, plucked fresh, are right now as we speak being turned into grade-A, top-notch, five-star, blow-your-horseshoes-off, one-of-a-kind cider!”

The Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 churns through the apples faster than Granny Smith working alone, matching not only the three ponies sorting but also Doug and Rainbow Dash on the grinder and Scootaloo on the barrels. With a satisfying *thud* a barrel drops out the bottom, catapulted with expert precision to land right next to the cider stand.

“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy whimpers, putting voice to the thoughts of many in the Apple herd.

“Honestly?” Doug and Applejack exchange nervous looks. He continues, “I’m more interested in the engine. Like, if we could automate some of the things around here, then-”

“Doug,” Applejack says curtly, cutting him off. “Ah’ve told ya before. Even if Ah sold ten times as many apples, if Ah didn’t get joy from doin’ it? Ah wouldn’t.” She takes a deep breath, the concession biting deep into her. “But, maybe we can start slow. See what works and what doesn’t.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Doug responds with a friendly smile, running his hand through her sweaty mane. She grins at his lack of concern over the sticky mess, pressing against his side as she feels her body quake. They watch as ponies crowd around the barrel, quickly getting riled up as they wait for Flim or somepony to slam a faucet in so they can get a taste.

Granny Smith steps forward, motioning first at Flim’s barrel and then the last remaining of their own, at least until they get the grinder running again. Her voice, harsh and high-pitched, sings out over the clamor of the crowd.

“~Now wait, you fellers, hold it! You went and over-sold it!
I guarantee that what you have there won’t compare!
For the very most important ingredient can’t be added or done expedient!
And it’s quality, friends, Apple Acres’ quality and care!~”

Flim grins as if he has been waiting for this moment the whole time.

“~Well, Granny, I’m glad you brought that up, my dear, I say I’m glad you brought that up.
You see that we are very picky when it comes to cider if you’ll kindly try a cup!~”

Granny Smith gulps as Lemon gingerly loads the barrel onto the table and fills up a cup. She takes it in a shaky hoof, staring at the amber liquid inside.

“Hey, wait a second,” Doug says, Granny Smith grateful for the interruption - at least until he keeps talking. “That’s not how you do a taste test. At least make it a blind test, preferably double blind.”

“A splendid suggestion, if I do say so myself,” Flim says with a chipper nod.

“And we certainly do say so,” Flam adds. “I dare say you won’t be able to taste the difference!”

“Unless,” Flim continues as Granny Smith hesitates. “You’re… chicken?”

“What did you call me, sonny?” Granny Smith growls. “That’s fine! We’ll beat you in any test, any time, any place!”

Doug looks over the crowd of ponies, each eager for even a sip. “Princess Celestia? Would you do the honors? Maybe a shot of each?”

“As you wish,” Princess Celestia replies. Her golden aura shrouds both barrels; two hundred shot glasses materialize out of the smoky haze, each tempered with a light sheen and emblazoned with a letter on the bottom. Amber liquid, nearly indistinguishable, fills each to the brim. Pairs of glasses dutifully float to every nearby pony and wait until they drink one, wash their mouth out with a swish of water Rainbow Dash and a few other pegasi bring down, and try the other.

Every member of the herd gets a taste, the barrel managing to stretch halfway through the crowd. Sounds of satisfied ponies surge, each now even more excited about seeing competition, or preferably cooperation, between the two cider makers.

Doug swishes the shots around in his mouth, testing the flavor. The first, emblazoned with an ’L’, has a sweet aftertaste that he prefers, and comes from the Golden Delicious they last used on the grinder. The second, with a ‘G’, has a bit more bite, characteristic of their tarter Granny Smith. The ones Flim and Flam used. He finds both mouthwatering, but in slightly different ways. And both came out as perfectly as the other.

Next Chapter: Ch. 59 - Cheap Construction, Part Five Estimated time remaining: 22 Hours, 29 Minutes