Cogs went about his business as usual; besides his fall, nothing noteworthy had occurred throughout the day.  He went to bed early, seeking the soft respite of sleep.  The dream world was odder than usual that night, nothing but blackness as far as the eye could see; the only source of light was Cogs himself, his coat glowing a brilliant white with just a hint of warm blue, like one sees at the base of a flame.  In addition to the color differences, he found that the very matter of his being was fluctuating.  There was no better way to describe it: his form rippled, unsure of its exact position in space.  He zoomed through the blackness at speeds that would have been physically impossible had there been air resistance; he passed a speck of light every once in a while, probably an entity in the exact same situation by his estimation.  Suddenly, the blackness was washed away by light; not the gentle pale gold of the sun, nor the brilliant white he himself radiated, it was a harsh light, more mustard-colored than anything.  Along with the light had come a change of scenery; Cogs was now surrounded by hundreds of other shining ponies, each galloping along the wire that some strange gravitational force drew them towards.  The galloping came to a halt as they vaulted from the tip of the first wire to that of the second, their arcing trail giving off that same harsh yellow light.

Cogs, his sight broadened by the newfound light source, decided to have a look around.  He was in a glass bulb, beyond which was the towering, acid-leaking pillar from his previous nightmare; though it seemed less like a looming death trap this time and more like a wonder of the world.  Cogs began to examine its finer details when a mad buzzing from beyond dredged his thoughts up from the dream world.  His little clock continued in its buzzing, stopping only after he had slammed his hoof on the general vicinity of the reset button.

Another day, another sandwich, and another conversation with the innkeeper, who was shocked when Cogs said quite matter-of-factly that he had fallen out of the seventh-story window the previous day; his shock was alleviated, however, when Cogs further explained the event.  He payed for the meal and the night's lodgings, then set off to work, his mind still obsessing over the mysterious pillar.

He arrived at the clock shop expecting to be shuffled off to the back room to work on pocket watches or something of that sort, and as such was pleasantly surprised when Sepia told him to deliver a small but particularly expensive timepiece to a customer.

"It's not something I can trust just anypony with, especially that ditz of a mailmare; and since you're my apprentice, I feel like I can trust you more easily.  Good luck!"

"Thank you."

Cogs didn't have much to say, as his mental faculties were otherwise occupied with thoughts of metal and acid.  The road to the customer's residence was long and winding, even arcing over a high hill at one point; it culminated at a large vineyard with a little shack he could only assume to be the right house.

The sun was almost a quarter-way across the sky when he reached the place and proceeded to knock on the door.

"Hello?"

It swung out abruptly, as if the one who opened it had improper control of their muscles; the speech that came next was slurred, and difficult to understand.

"Whoserre?"

"Delivery from Tock's Clock Shop for a miss Berry Punch."

"Thassme."

Berry reached out and clumsily grabbed at the clock, nearly knocking it to the ground on the first attempt, but successfully getting secure purchase on it on the third.

"It says here you already paid when you sent the unit in, so all you have to do is sign here."

She stepped forward, grabbing the pencil in her mouth and drawing a determined "X" on the line; after she finished, she turned to Cogs, saying almost in a defensive tone:

"I'ssannoying, ya know?  Work nigh's an' all-a-sudd'n ev'rypony thinks yer a drunk."

She groggily backpedaled into the house, closing the door as she did so; Cogs assumed that she misjudged how much room she had, though, as he heard a cacophonous crash from within.  'She's right,' he thought; 'alcohol was indeed my first thought when I saw her behavior.  But that's silly now that I consider it, after all I heard that the selling of alcoholic beverages is illegal in this region.'

Cogs froze.

'Selling is illegal, but production and possession are perfectly fine; so that probably means...'.  He moved back towards the building and knocked furiously, being met with another clumsy door-opening.

"Whoserre now?"

"Sorry about this miss Punch, but I need to ask you a quick question: does this vineyard produce wine?"

"Um..."

She stared past Cogs into space, face contorted with concentration.

"Miss Punch?"

"Well we don' sell here, but we do fermenting in the cellar, so yesh."

"Okay, one more question: do you make vinegar?"

"I think sho, but I really dunno; you can go 'round ta the back an' check if ya want.  If ya find anything ya want jus' take it; thanksh for the clock."

"Alright, thank you for your time."

She nodded sleepily and once again retreated into her shack.  Cogs meandered among the tangled grape trellises and fig trees, leaves crunching underhoof; he proceeded to check the storehouse, where, sure enough, he found a rack of vinegar bottles, one of which he loaded into his bags, an awkward task given the size of the wide, flat container.  He marched back up the lane, trying to remember what other supplies he needed for the project he had in mind.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Back at the clock shop, Sepia was tinkering with a small windup toy he had cobbled together from spare parts; not a single customer had visited the shop all day, so it was with great excitement that he rushed to the door, opening it in response to a knock.  He jubilant  expression shifted to a crestfallen one, however, when he realized that it was just his apprentice returning from making a delivery.

"How was it?  She didn't challenge you to a drunken brawl now, did she?"

Cogs displayed a small grin.

"No, nothing of the sort."

"Well good, 'cause I've been hearing rumors."

The two went back to work, or rather, Sepia once again began tinkering with his toys while Cogs went back and forth evaluating and comparing Tock's one-hundred-seventy-nine hourglasses.

The day had ended without a single customer, much to Tock's disappointment.

"You know, I may have to close down the shop soon."

Cogs sputtered in surprise:

"Huh? B-b-but why?"

"A competitor opened up a shop closer to the heart of town; his clocks are inferior, but cheaper and closer nearby to most of the folk."

Sepia looked depressed, noticing this, Cogs decided to change the subject.

"So, do you know of any salt vendors around here?"

"Salt vendors?"

"Yes."

"A caravan comes through a few times a year and there might be a few shops that sell it, but I think that's about it."

"Okay, thank you."

They parted ways, Sepia heading to his apartment while Cogs proceeded towards the inn.  He had never noticed before, but the inn was not very far from the town's apple orchards. 'Sweet Apple Acres I think I heard somepony call it, I wonder what sort of workers are employed there; it's a huge plot of land, so maybe ten employees?'

He looked around, wondering what other noteworthy establishment were located nearby.

"General Store."

He muttered the nearest shop's name.

"I wonder if they have anything useful."

He headed inside, calculating how many spare bits he had as he did so.  The interior of the building was quite plain, just a register stand and a few unadorned wood shelves bearing everything from sunglasses to hair gel.  He performed a cursory search which proved fruitful, as he found a cheap hourglass, three glass rods, a substantial wad of gauze, a small bottle of salt, and some old zinc and copper washers, all within his budget.  Cogs moved the items one by one to the register stand, where a particularly bored and scrawny-looking pony sat, eyes glazed over as his mind explored regions far more interesting than anything his bland surroundings could have afforded; he only snapped back to reality when Cogs' grip on the bag of washers slipped and it came crashing down on the wood before him.

"Hello-and-welcome-to-the-Ponyville-general-store-my-name's-Comet-how-may-I-help-you?"

His mouth had made the statement automatically while his eyes struggled to open fully.

"I'd like to buy these items."

Comet surveyed the strange assortment before him.  While to the unobservant onlooker me might have seemed to have drifted back into day dreaming, in actuality his brain was working furiously, calculating the exact price of the purchase; a value which he then relayed to Cogs, who payed and finalized the business transaction.

Cogs stepped back into the evening sun and began a slow trot, but stopped when a flash of light passed directly in front of his face, leaving a small black mark in the road beneath his hooves.

"Did I getcha?"

He looked up and identified the source of the commotion: it was that rainbow-maned pegasus from the day before, sitting atop a small storm cloud.

"Whoa you're good, didn't even flinch."

He glared decisively at Rainbow Dash, trying to think of something adequate to say, but to no avail, so he went for guilting instead.

"You know, it was because of a lightning bolt that I lost my wings.  It was extremely painful, and I feel a comparable pain every time I'm reminded about it."

Dash's joking expression faded, becoming one of guilt as she slowly flapped away while using the cloud to hide from sight.  Cogs continued towards the inn.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Salt and vinegar mixed in jar to make acid, gauze discs soaked in acid, placed in between alternating pieces of zinc and copper in a tower supported by three glass rods connected to the base of what used to be an hourglass, all connected to two long copper wires; the acid was already corroding the metal and polished wood base, the glass rods had cracked a little under the strain of so much weight leaning against them, and the wires jutted out at precarious angles.  All-in-all it looked terrible, but Cogs knew of the vast potential hiding behind its crude appearance, and saw it as a masterpiece.

It had taken him a whole hour to construct, and he was eager to test it out.  He removed an older style light bulb from his saddlebags, the kind that still had a big, gnarly filament in the middle; it was glowing slightly, its magical charge yet to be completely depleted.  Cogs slowly but deliberately strapped the copper wires to it. A bright, artificial light flooded the room, dazzling him.

Cogs tried to think of what it most reminded him of, and grinned slightly as he muttered it to himself:

"It's sunshine; electric sunshine."

The light suddenly dimmed, however, as a loud fizzling came from the bulb.  He put his face up to it, seeing the electricity within wrestle with the haywire magic.

"Mental note: magic and electricity do not interact well."

The activity died down.  Cogs moved his face even closer and prodded the lightbulb with his left hoof; it began to swell, glowing with an eerie sparkling effect.  Cogs raised his head and backpedaled a little.  The swell and sparkle effect spread up the wires to the voltaic cell, which began to whine and spew acid before exploding.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Cogs awoke in shock, feeling a dull pain from his left fore-hoof; looking down at it, he saw that the skin was completely gone, showing muscle and even a little bone.  He slunk over to the table, on which sat the corroded remains of his science experiment, and grabbed the wad of gauze.  Looking around for a water source but finding none, Cogs reached out the window, watering his wound in a nearby cloud and thanking Celestia that he had decided against installing safety bars.  He saw the sun beginning to peek over the horizon and looked to the clock, which read six o'clock.  He drew back his hoof and began to wind the gauze around it.

He hobbled down the stairs, walking rather awkwardly on three legs.  As he arrived at the first floor, he gave the innkeeper a little wave, which was not returned but met with a look of disbelief from the innkeeper.  Cogs thought for a second about what might be so shocking, then realized that he had forgotten his jacket; he turned and looked at he stubs on his back, but was equally shocked when he noticed what else adorned his backside: a large symbol of the sun with a six-toothed gear in the center.  He tried to recall where else he had seen a similar symbol before, then it struck him. 'This is the insignia of this country's ruler;' he thought to himself, unsure of what to feel. 'Is this cause for rejoicing? Concern? Panic?'.

He turned back to the innkeeper, who had fainted while Cogs reveled in the splendor of his newly acquired mark.  He grabbed the half-sandwich off of the innkeeper's plate before retreating up the stairs, a painful but necessary task, as he would hate to be subject to the many eyes that would doubtless plague him if he ventured out in public without his jacket.