The Machine

Yeshua stared into a gaping black hole. Inside the thick metal rim were hundreds of steel teeth, welded together to form interlocking balls of spikes. They were arranged so that they all fit together as they rotated, dragging anything caught in their grip toward the center and shredding it into a thousand ribbons. It stood still now, and an attempt had clearly been made to clean it, but nothing could hide the blood stains.

The mouth of the machine stood vertically, like a doorway into oblivion. A conveyor belt on a raised platform stood in front of it, ready to feed the iron jaws. There was space for two ponies to "safely" work on the platform. The whole platform and the opening of the machine was enclosed by glass walls.

Dash couldn't think of anything meaningful to say, but she had to break the silence. "I know the old model was oriented vertically. I didn't tell them to make the intake horizontal, it's like that for egghead reasons. Turns out you get a finer grind if the processor head pulls it in with the rotation, instead of just dropping it in."

The apparent unicorn gave her a sideways glance. "It? Dropping what in?"

"You know," she replied with a little frustration. They both knew very well they were talking about live ponies, but he was trying to make her say it. I'm just compartmentalizing like my shrink tells me to. "The subject."

He let it go for the moment, and tapped the thick glass. "What's this for?"

"The fish bowl? That's sound proof glass. I had that put in there," Manager Dash explained. "I guess it's another layer of security, but we haven't really needed it since my new protocols. Now we tie the subjects before they're even brought here. It's really there for morale."

"It doesn't go around the entire machine, so that's not the noise it's blocking," he observed correctly. "It's for screams."

"Well yeah," "Turns out that's just part of the deal, but I figured not everypony on the crew has to deal with that. We tried anesthetics to keep them quiet, but it turns out it affects the product if they're unconscious when they go in. We still give them a little to dull the pain. Also my idea, by the way. I'm not some kind of monster. We do it as equinely as possible for all involved."

"You want the killing but not the screams," he concluded. "So this makes you feel better about what you're doing?"

"Hey, we have to do this," she defended. "I'm just trying to keep us all from losing our minds."

His eyes traced around the edges of the glass door where workers entered the enclosure. He turned to her and stated bluntly, "I want it gone. Today."

"Seriously? I mean, I could keep that in consideration. You could put it in your report, if that's even a real thing you do." Her voice lowered on that last part. She watched his reaction carefully.

"For efficiency with large loads," he said. "Look, the door's too small. I want it removed before the demonstration today."

Wait, What? She gulped. The last thing she expected after all his noble talk was that he would ask for a bigger demonstration than necessary. She pictured doing the sacrifices one after the other, under his disdainful glare. Then her imagination really took off, with images of the golden apparition she saw in the office picking up all of her crew with his magic and furiously stuffing them into the machine. He clearly saw everypony there as the bad guys, she just couldn't get a clear read on how angry he might be.

"Ugh, fine. It's not like we don't hear screams in our dreams anyway." Normally she wouldn't roll over so easily, but even if he was just a pony from internal affairs, she didn't want to oppose him. It's not like a little glass would stop him if he wanted to wipe them out.

She stepped aside and ordered two floor workers to begin unbolting the sound trap so that it could be detached. When she turned around, he was already pacing down the length of the machine, surveying its parts.

She trotted until she caught up. Instead of showing her nerves, she tried to channel Twilight and play the role of tour guide. "Most ponies don't know how spectra is made, I mean since it's a secret, but it's quite a process. First the material is turned into a liquid, so that it has an even consistency. Then it's vaporized and the magic is extracted in its purest form. That's what those are about."

She pointed up to a battery of a hundred magical crystals, each the size of a pony, embedded into the top of the machine. "Then the magic is separated by type and then re-infused into liquid form. Each type makes a different color of spectra. Since the magic is different, we don't have to worry about the colors mixing again."

"I mean, it's not about decoration, it's about the magic, but we do want it to match naturally occurring rainbows. Which, let me remind you, there are very few natural rainbows, much fewer than there used to be." She kept pace as he walked along the main housing, apparently studying it down to the rivet.

When the silence felt awkward again, Dash filled it. "A lot of people are surprised to see magic crystals attached to a machine. A lot of the bulk of the machine is to handle the steam part of the process, but the rest is about controlling the magical energy."

She watched him, but didn't see a reaction to anything she said. "You already knew all that, didn't you."

He nodded.

Two bulky masses of strangely shaped iron knobs hung from the ceiling over the back half of the machine. Each held spools of copper wire that were so thick they almost looked like pipes instead of wires. The one directly above the machine was obviously connected into the heart of the machine with a cascade of insulated cables. The other, off to the side, did not appear to be connected to anything, and a patina of rust had been allowed to form on it.

Looking at the one that was in disrepair, he asked, "Why don't you maintain this one?"

"Oh, that?" Dash said, having almost forgotten it was there. "We made an auxiliary capacitor when the new machine came out, but we didn't really need it. We were afraid that with how much more energy it could process, it could be a disaster if it overloaded. But in the real routine function we haven't gotten anywhere near the safety limits. We don't try to do the biggest batch possible, we just keep it running constantly. Turns out that's gentler on the machine, and we don't have to replace so many parts."

His horn glowed and he shot a bright bolt of energy into the metal. The capacitor rung almost like a bell and shook off what looked like dust or sand. It was particles of rust. Dash quickly turned her face down so that she wouldn't get any in her eyes. "That should give you a head start. Make sure it's working properly and get it connected. I want it ready to go in an hour."

She coughed. "Yes sir." She took off and rose to the second level. The chief engineer leaned his elbow on the railing, pretending to double check some gauges, but obviously watching the newcomer. "Hey, the inspector wants the auxiliary capacitor plugged in and ready to go, within the hour."

"Really," he said dryly, and stroked a gray hair on his chin. "Chop chop, eh?"

"Yeah." She added with weight, "I think we might actually need it this time, so do it right."

She snuck a glance back to the impostor below. He really was intent on that large load of his. A shiver went down her spine. What did he want to do? Does he want an overload? Her mind raced through the fastest ways to escape the factory. No. I have to protect my crew. I have to protect the Machine.

If it came down to it, could she trick him, or fight him? Despite his mild persona, directly opposing him seemed like a very bad idea. And that aside, there was a part of her that felt that it would be wrong to do anything to him, but she didn't understand why. Who was his boss anyway, and surely he was under Celestia's command?

Then she knew. This tour of the facility—it was perfect. It was the only option. She had until it ended to show him all the good they were doing. Or even just make him understand their dilemma. It seemed like he wanted to understand her, despite his cynicism about the factory. Surely Doctor Atmosphere could convince anyone. And the neophytes… Yes, it could work.

She flew back down to his side, and motioned for him to follow.