Pomarbo inches closer and closer to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He stares up at the empty window and motionless conveyor belt, fascinated by the moving mechanisms hidden inside the thin metal plating. He reaches a hoof, stretching higher, as far up as he can go, even standing human-style on his back hooves! Yet he can’t even reach the bottom, much less the window that promises brief glimpses into the inner workings. Maybe he could climb up the spoked wheels, but there aren’t any hoofholds to get to where he needs to be to see what’s inside. His lip quivers as he sits back down, tears threatening to darken his brown coat. He glances at the young mare shadowing him.

Diamond Tiara’s focus stays on the dozens of ponies passionately debating the two cider choices. Their keen palates have come to the same conclusion as Doug, that glasses lettered A,C, E, I, L, N, P, R, S, and T contain sweet cider from the Apples, and any other letters means it is the sharper variety from Flim and Flam.

“Look,” Rainbow Dash states flatly, deferential only because she doesn’t want to insult Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith and ruin her future cider chances. “I’m not saying they did a better job than you. I’d never say that! And I’m not alone in this!” She motions to the dozens of other ponies, led by Scootaloo, nodding along. Twice the number are shaking their heads, or at least ambivalent. “I’m just saying that I like ciders with a little more bite in them.”

Pomarbo looks the other way, at the fence next to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. He senses an opportunity to gain a closer look and ever-so-carefully extends a hoof up to the barrel-high rail barely in reach. Methodically, making sure to keep as many limbs on the post as possible, he climbs. Soon enough and he is on the top rail, balancing precariously. There is no smile on his muzzle, just a focused look of determination at reaching his goal. He pulls one foreleg off the rail, wobbling slightly. Yet he is undeterred by a potential fall, stretching as far as he can in the hope of reaching the window and somehow pressing his face against the glass.

Sadly, he remains about two body lengths away from his prize. Maybe he could make it if he jumps, but he’s no pegasus. Or as courageous as the Brave and Glorious Spike. He huffs to himself, resigning to study what he can from his current vantage point. His head slowly drifts forward, drawing ever closer to the point where he might fall off if an errant wing flap blew him the wrong way.

“Careful, you might get sucked in, too,” Twilight jests, having kept her shining white eyes on the exploring colt. She grins; she can recognize the fascination she shares regarding complex contraptions. Especially magical ones, and this one is quite the doozy. She walks next to the fence; the rails that used to be level with her withers are now two inches below. She dips down to offer her back. “Would you like to get closer?”

Pomarbo turns her way with a quizzical look, eyes flicking to her lit horn and then to her wings.

A light gasp from her side draws Twilight’s attention. She glances at Diamond Tiara; the young mare has a hoof covering her muzzle, her eyes wide with surprise, aghast at the idea of a Princess, much less anypony, deigning to allow herself to be ridden.

“S-sorry,” Twilight apologizes, ruffling her wings as a reminder that she is, in fact, a Princess. And with the connotations associated with the act, how she wants to be the next alicorn for Doug to ride, and how few other ponies do the same. “I’m just used to Spike and how he...”

Her expression falters as she stares off to the east. The hustle and bustle surrounding the Flim Flam Brothers seems to fade into the background, her concentration on her lifelong companion. Perhaps if she scryed she could see him, standing at the train platform all by his lonesome. How long would he keep up the stoic facade, if it is indeed an act? It’s certainly a challenge, going off on his own and leading a country. Not quite unlike the ending she imagined happening for herself when she ascended, when she could bring herself to think about the future and her... well, if she’s being completely honest, superfluous role as a Princess in Equestria.

Twilight startles as a familiar, and at the same time foreign, pressure pushes into her back. It isn’t Spike, as much as she might wish that is the case; there aren't the tell-tale pricks of claws into her hide, as ginger as the dragon might try to grip onto her. It’s the rounder, more distributed force of hooves, unsteadily making their way from her dock to her withers, and then two small forelegs that can’t quite wrap all the way around her neck.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her neck and shoulder squeezing back gently as her hoof wipes away the pooling tears.

“Can we get on with the analysis?” Starlight Glimmer demands with a haughty scowl. Her eyes shine white with a similar diagnostic spell. She taps at her belly. “Some of us are a bit drained simultaneously maintaining three more novel thaumic sinks than normally deemed healthy.”

Twilight sighs, chagrinned, at the reminder of her lack of control when she first ascended. She rolls her eyes, ending up focusing on Diamond Tiara. The earth pony has lost her look of distress to one more calculating, her eyes belying the innocent smile on her muzzle.

“I-I can’t believe I’m about to ask this of a Princess,” Diamond Tiara asks with what she believes is an appropriate stammer and look of awe. “But, could I get a closer look, too?” She beams upward, more genuine this time, her tone getting much more formal and affected. “I would ever so much appreciate it!”

“Of course!” Twilight grins, ignoring any thoughts that the young mare might be using their proximity to further her own station. Her horn brightens as she concentrates and lifts a gasping and grateful Diamond Tiara, setting her just behind Pomarbo. “I’m always willing to help others learn, and this is a fascinating example of layering multiple relatively simple spells in order to duplicate the, hmm, somewhat opaque intuitions somepony like Granny Smith has built up over many years.”

“Proprietary simple spells,” Flim adds from just behind Twilight. “Perfectly safe, I might add.”

“No chance of a runaway engine here!” Flam continues.

“I like your method,” Twilight comments with a friendly nod. “You’ve got the main engine powering everything else with belts instead of directly animating the components. The layered scanning spells to duplicate a pony’s intuitions by judging on simple criteria that sum to a single score. This one is calibrated to the Apple’s high demands, but I assume you could modulate that as opposed to a single on/off switch.” She points at a red button next to the window.

“A marvelous recommendation,” Flim states with a telling glance to his partner. “One that I’m sure we will incorporate into our next model!” He cocks his head curiously. “A discerning alicorn such as yourself must be able to see how a deal like this can’t be passed up!”

“Your obfuscation is very good,” Twilight says with a smirk, “but you’ve got nothing on Sombra. Still, I can see how a machine like this could be put to very productive use!”

“Now, hold on to your hats,” Granny Smith spits out as she ambles over. She scowls at the two straw-hatted unicorns. “There ain’t no way that there machine matches up with the care we put in our cider!”

“It, kinda, did,” Rainbow Dash says somewhat sheepishly. She still doesn’t want to offend the Apple matriarch, yet sure wouldn’t mind more cider.

Granny Smith turns to glare at Rainbow Dash, but softens as she sees the ponies behind the pegasus. Many are thirsty, having only gotten a sip during the taste test, and others not even that. She motions to Applejack and Big Mac to gather up, though their group huddle doesn’t stop with the immediate Apple family. The rest of the ponies in the herd make rings with the smallest in the middle and flyers above, their interests piqued.

“If this works?” Scootaloo says before anypony else can comment. “We can make everypony in town happy!”

“Assumin’ we have enough apples,” Apple Bloom adds with a worried smile. “Did ya see how fast it chewed through ‘em?”

“Ah don’t know, y’all,” Applejack counters. She keeps from glancing at Granny Smith; it’s generally been her proposing new ideas and changes to the farm and her grandmare vetoing. Like when she wanted to sell cider to Filthy Rich to then resell. “We’ve always made cider the same way, and that way works. We shouldn’t be compromisin’ on Sweet Apple Acres quality, even if that quality takes time.”

“And ponypower,” Rarity mutters from the back, though loud enough for all to hear.

“Precisely, sister,” Flim compliments as he appears in the inner ring. “That machine right over there will do the harvesting, the sorting, the running, the barreling, and even the stacking! Leaving only the rejuvenating of the trees-”

“-Which, I must add,” Flam says from the other side, nopony quite sure how the two squeezed their way in, “is a very important part of the process-”

“-And the selling of the cider itself.” Flim winks at Applejack. “But, as we all know, this cider is so good it practically sells itself! Why, this machine all by itself is doing the work of five ponies!”

“Ten if you’re having an off-day!”

“An incomparable deal!” Flim grins. “But even an incomparable deal can be sweetened! What do you say, Apples? You supply the apples...”

“...We supply the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000.”

Flim and Flam both speak, “And we split those sweet sweet profits...”

“...Seventy-five…”

“...Twenty-five.”

“Hold on,” Applejack says, her face scrunching up as she considers. Both Granny Smith and Big Mac defer to her. “Who gets the seventy-five?”

Flim gives her his best, most endearing smile. “Why, us, naturally.”

“We’ll even throw in the magic to power the machine for free,” Flam adds.

“We can’t take a deal like that,” Applejack says after a moment’s thought, gulping. It pains her to admit this, but there’s no way they would accept charity from the Princesses or other members of the herd. Much like Rarity in that regard. Flim and Flam don’t care for the answer either, their cheery dispositions souring. “But Sweet Apple Acres relies on cider sales to keep our business afloat through the winter.”

“Are you sure about that?” Diamond Tiara asks from Twilight’s back before Flim can retort. Ponies step aside as she hops off and imperiously trots to the center. “Because I think you should take it.”

“Err,” Applejack hedges, staring down at the young mare. “Ah know Ah ain’t the most gifted math-wise, but Ah don’t see how we can survive on a quarter our normal profit.”

“I can think of two,” Diamond Tiara asserts confidently. Applejack raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “First, did you hear what they said at the start of their song?”

“Um,” Applejack says, glancing at Big Mac for help. He shrugs. “Can’t say Ah remember, distractin’ as they are.”

“They said that ‘it’s the same in every town’. That implies that there are many more towns that would gladly purchase your cider, even at a premium!” Diamond Tiara turns to Granny Smith, offering a respectful nod of her head. “It wouldn’t be fresh cider, and I know how much Sweet Apple Acres values their brand. And it’s an important brand, one we wouldn’t want to be devalued.”

“We?” Granny Smith mutters to herself, both irritated at the impertinence and admiring of her confidence.

“So we market it as something different.” Diamond Tiara turns to Flim and Flam. “Could we use your name?”

“I say, we’d even pay you if you did!” Flim agrees readily. “Perhaps something along the lines of ‘Flim Flam Fields?’”

“Flim Flam Fields’ Fermented Fruit,” Diamond Tiara alliterates.

“Hmm,” Flim considers, rubbing a hoof against his chin. His brother duplicates the motion against his mustache. He tries out a bombastic slogan, “Flim Flam Fields’ Fermented Fruit! Find 5-F in five fantastic flavors! Get F’d anywhere Flim Flam Miracle Curative Tonic is sold!”

“And my sire could supplement our already very favorable distribution contract.” Diamond Tiara nods to Flim, then turns back to Applejack with a grin. The orange mare has a hard time returning her own. “Which would come out of the profits, which leads me to my second point. How much do you charge for apples?”

“Sixteen bits a bushel,” Applejack answers readily. “Makes about three gallons of cider, or twenty-five mugs at two bits apiece.”

“Sixteen?!” Diamond Tiara exclaims, aggrandizing her astonishment by covering her muzzle and gasping. “No, no, you’ve never sold at that low, not in Ponyville. Five apples for two bits is the lowest sale I’ve ever seen. Normally it’s one bit an apple, sometimes two. Which puts a bushel of apples at eighty bits, not sixteen. Which makes me ever so honored you would sell your cider at a loss, in order to support our community.”

“Hey, wait,” Flim Flam cuts in.

Applejack merely stares at Diamond Tiara. Would that be fair and honest to the two brothers, much as she wants to turn their oft-scheming plans on their heads?

Next Chapter: Ch. 60 - Cheap Construction, Part Six Estimated time remaining: 22 Hours, 20 Minutes