So Much For Nothing
First Pony View
A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan fic
By Suomibrony
Chapter 10
So Much For Nothing
An electronic chime announcing the parting of the elevator doors broke me out of my mentations. With my sensitive photoreceptors shielded by eyelids, I felt myself sway as the hooves of the two pegasi bearing me resounded off the floor.
“Excuse me,” Medical Brace called as we came to a stop. “We need a scan for a possible brain injury here.” She then grunted, and the stretcher moved a little. “Ow. Whoever designed this stupid junk wasn't thinking of comfort,” she murmured under her breath. Ampoule laughed, then said something in a questioning but mirthful tone, to which the usually gentle mare replied with an annoyed grumble. I tried to understand what had been said. Something about . . . No, I couldn't figure it out. Shucks. Probably said I was really fine, and that I'd be out the hospital doors in an hour. Or not. The tone wasn't right. In any case, I had to firmly believe in positive results and, more importantly, remain calm at all times, or free room and board in a nuthouse were in my future.
“I got this!” another female called enthusiastically. With a cringe, I reluctantly thanked my semi-autonomous soundcatchers for telling me that she was to my left.
The next moment, I heard a series of snaps and rustles, and warily, I drew my eyelids to a slit. ‘Ouch!’ I shut my eyes. ‘Why's this still so bright to me?’ I wondered. I had been able to discern, however, that my roomy plastic cover was being removed, and I was in a small lobby of sorts. The feeling of overwhelming sensory input must've been due to my pony eyes still being unaccustomed to the brightness. I had never been sensitive of normal indoor lights before, though. Not even in Marcus' bathroom. Were the lights here brighter or something?
“Go on ahead. Might take me a minute or two to deal with the team rotation paperwork and entrust me with supervision over the patient in Aidin's absence before I can follow,” Medical Brace assumably instructed to the unseen female. I felt something tap me in the barrel from underneath the stretcher's canvas. “Don't you fear, hon,” she said “You'll be okay soon.” Yeah, sure, I'd be okay, no problem. Not nervous at all. Just had to believe in good things.
I was lifted up, startling my eyes open, and I noticed they had adjusted to the light. The stretcher was now on a gurney, rolling down the hallway. Gazing ahead, I observed how few people were present across its cream-colored floor.
As we passed a few doors, curiosity suggested I should learn who was carting me through the white-walled hallway. Slowly swiveling my head around, I saw a hand, then tracked that up to the shoulder, and from there to the face. Medium-length anthracite-black hair, simplistic but stylish glasses, and young features. A pretty nose. She was kinda cute.
“Oh, hi there!” she said very chipperly, and my ears drooped. The pleasant image I had of her broke, and her supposedly friendly expression became downright perturbing.
“Uhm . . . hi,” I replied with a faint whisper, distancing my head from her a little.
“So, hey, what's your name?” she asked in a rhythmical manner. That was . . . a nice variation.
“Uh . . .” I averted my head from her uncanny expression on the pretense of being shy, although I didn't have to pretend that much. I guess the defect in my head hadn't cured itself because I thought of the name that felt like it was genuinely mine, when it was anything but. Obviously, I couldn't tell her my male human name. My best option was to keep a low profile for as long as possible, or until I was absolutely sure it was safe to confide my identity to somepony I was willing to trust. Somepony? The ponyisms were most likely caused by the brain damage, too! When did this even start? Did I hit my head when I fell out of my bed this morning? No, I managed to catch myself quite softly. I hadn't hit my head at all today. Strange . . . Was something wrong about my bed? My home? I couldn't be certain. Perhaps it was just the brain anomaly toying with my faculties again?
“Mine's Lisa,” the young nurse introduced herself, my uncomfortable ears rotating on their own to catch her voice.
“Okay,” I replied, a strain of discomfort and dread in my quiet tone. I attempted to appreciate her positivity, though it wasn't meshing well with me. We rounded a corner to a corridor with a peculiarly light pink floor.
“Now, don't be such a scaredy tail. You know why? Because you have absolutely nothing to be afraid of!” Lisa tried to reassure me, but she only made me flinch. As if the jarring delivery of her statement could wash away my concerns. She was wrong. No, scratch that. She was absolutely dreadful! She wasn't even close to being like Medical Brace, who had a smooth voice and a sensibly kind demeanor. Lisa wasn't even like Marcus Lund-something. He was nice, and I'd be fast friends with him. Maybe. He was a teetotaler, right?
I wouldn't hug him again, regardless.
Hoping I wasn't going in for a surgery and staying here for days, but also a touch aggravated by the nurse's decorum, I replied with forced optimism in my succinct whisper: “I know.”
“Why, of course you know, my littlest sweetest pony,” she replied in a manner that I found condescending, and I screwed my eyes shut. Why had I opened my mouth? Was she trying to be amusing? Had she been reassigned from a kindergarten to a hospital? Did she have a brain injury herself? She was like jagged, rusty, horrible, horrible nails on a chalkboard! Then, as she continued to talk, my eyes rolled upwards in frustrated despair. “Say, are you saying that if you didn't know, I'd have to tell it to you for you to know? Didn't I already do that? Hey, maybe—?”
“Zip it,” I cut in tersely, my ears pricking backwards. That annoyed me, too. With so many things already stressing me out, I didn't need much to be pushed to my limits.
“Hey now don't be such a crabap—”
“Didn't you hear me?” I interrupted grouchily, my unadulterated high-pitched voice only agitating me further.
“Sure, I heard you, sis, and—”
Sis? With an exasperated, puny-sounding groan that brought a short-term grimace to me, I crashed my head in the space between my forelegs. “Not. One. Word. MORE,” I emphasized my ultimatum through my teeth.
The silence that followed indicated she had at the least a rudimentary rational conscience. My vexation withered quickly though, and I sighed as my ears unglued themselves from my skull. “Lisa, please understand,” I said as amiably as I could, feeling that I had been a smidgen too harsh, even though I held the opinion that she deserved every drop of my contempt. “Your flippant attitude is completely inappropriate, insensitive, and . . . well, creepy. It only upsets me, and probably other patients you've had and will have.” Undesiring to start an educative tirade that would undoubtedly feature many snide remarks masquerading as advice, I simply got to the point: "Please rethink your behavior. Your silence will do me more good than anything you could possibly say, so please . . . don't talk to me anymore." After a second's pause, I added in a smaller voice, “I'm sorry.”
There was a bleakness in me . . . my male self conjured the words, but my distaff larynx spoke them. The disparity made me sound alien, which only enhanced my sensation of entrapment. Thankfully, the grief and fear were soon superseded by the much welcomed peace of relative quiet I had earned for myself. The relaxant Aidin had given me was likely helping matters, too. To keep my cool, I held my eyes gently closed, taking slow breaths as I was delivered to my destination. My recent ire had riled me from the withdrawn role I had hoped to adhere to; I'd strengthen my laconic passiveness with an absolute rule: silence is golden. I'd behave as if voiceless. Voiceless, and horribly depressed. The hospital staff would definitely worry to no end, maybe even be more than concerned once I inevitably struggled to do even the simplest pony-esque things. On the plus side (if it could be called that), my silence would minimize the risk of saying something that could compromise the integrity of my sadly irremovable disguise.
The gurney halted, and the characteristic sound of a knuckle rapping a door preceded a muffled female's voice. “Yes, do come in.” I opened my eyes just in time to see Lisa open a door before me, and a moment later, she carted me into the room. With a smidgen of intrigue, I surveyed the warmly-colored space, noting a couple of shelves with assorted books, a basic hospital bed by the wall ahead, and a series of windows spanning the entire length of the left wall, permitting a view of four-story apartment buildings on the other side of a street. What was most striking was the size of the furniture and equipment here: they were smaller than normal, and that made this room look huge. Even the desk in the very left corner beneath the long window—Whoa!
“Good evening.”
My head ascended from the stretcher's green canvas along with my pinnae stiffening involuntarily in surprised astonishment. Not at the greeting, but at the sight of a pale orange pony standing from behind the low desk to smile at us. I blinked a few times, just to make sure that what had just moments ago been inspecting the disorganized papers on the desk wasn't an illusion. No, she was still there, regarding me with some puzzlement. “I presume this patient requires my attention?” the red-maned unicorn asked.
“Yes. A scan. Possible brain injury,” Lisa relayed laconically, her tone traceless of the highly aggravating glee she had earlier. I couldn't say that I was too sorry about deflating her mood. I was more concerned about my brain injury, and I didn't look forward to knowing how severe it was.
“Very well. Thank you for the help,” the unicorn replied as she strolled to the gurney's left side, and that was when I spied her cutie mark: a trio of curved, translucent vertical lines snugly interlacing the shape of a bistre-brown pony. Lisa left wordlessly, which apparently prompted the mare to look toward the gently closed door with a concerned and inquiring frown. She soon removed her expression with a hum and placed her hoof on something below the gurney's mattress. “Quite rainy out there, is it not?” she said to break the ice.
“Yeah,” I said instinctually, the flowery and fresh nuances of hyacinth and mandarin orange emanating from her essence enthralling me. ‘Amazing perfume,’ I commented absently. With a tiny hydraulic hissing sound, the gurney began to descend, and soon, I was slightly below face-level of the standing mare. I must've looked utterly stupid, gazing into her auburn eyes without a clue what to think or say as I came down; all the while, she drew a lax smile on herself. The sound of the door closing startled me into focusing my attention over my back, a split second after my directional microphones had done so already.
“Nice to see you, Peachy Hale,” a familiar pony said in her affable tone as she crossed the few meters to stand beside the identified unicorn. After greeting the now harness-free aquamarine pegasus, Peachy Hale began to undo the not-so-restricting belts from me with her magic. It looked so effortless for her, and I had to consciously dissuade myself from gawking in wonder at her magic-enveloped horn. So instead, I stared at Medical Brace's half-lidded amethyst eyes. Her peroxide blonde mane was damp. Hah, wet mane. Well, damp mane. That sight and the associated cogitations creased my lips lightly. “Well, hello to you as well,” she said to me after a few seconds with a tiny giggle, subtle bemusement in her eyes.
“Hi,” I replied in an unintentionally shy tone that, along with my tiny smile, elicited a small chuckle from her.
“There,” Peachy Hale said softly as the belt pressing on my fuzzy behind was removed, the sensation and subsequent realization disconcerting me. I was naked . . . “Being free from those belts feels so much more comfortable, doesn't it?” I replied with a flat hum. The unicorn glanced at her pegasus counterpart with a smile. “Alright. I'm ready to run the scan.” She then looked at me. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“Uhh . . . yeah. I think I am,” I replied, still moderately timid of my own intonation. More so, I was puzzled at what was about to occur. She'd run the scan? How? Wasn't a scanner like a big donut-shaped device conjoined with a bed? The most advanced contraptions I saw here were a scale, standing along the wall next to the bed, and a basic wall clock, the latter of which hung above and behind Peachy's desk. It was half past nine.
There wasn't even a computer here. How odd.
“How are you holding up, hon?” Medical Brace asked me.
How should I answer that question? I wasn't gifted with an intrinsic meter to provide a numerical value of my current health at all times. “Um, I'll know soon . . . Right?” I nonetheless hazarded to reply.
“That's not what I meant,” she giggled in gentle amusement. “But yes, you'll know soon.” I tried to smile, too, but my ears were telling their own tale by curving down and backwards.
“Please, don't worry,” Peachy reproved me with the kindest tone. Had my ears told her I was worried? Those could throw a wrench into my plans to conceal my emotions, which might inadvertently lead to the exposure of my identity. Somehow. “You'll be perfectly fine.”
“Yeah, of course. No doubt about it,” I hoped nervously, my soft female voice making my whisper sound like I was mimicking a certain withdrawn pegasus.
Peachy nodded with an empathetic look. “I better start the scan, then.” Ears righting themselves, my eyes were automatically drawn to her horn when it lit up again, and simultaneously, she closed her eyes. A mere second later, my right hind leg began to sting mildly, as if it was becoming . . . completely numb! I drew a startled inhale, and I began to restlessly twitch the strange joints in my strange leg. It's one thing to have equine legs with relatively insensitive hooves, but to potentially lose sensation in the entire appendage frightened me.
“Don't be alarmed, hon,” Medical Brace soothed, and I fixated a look of concerned inquiry on her as my leg lost more of its tactile acuity. With a sympathetic glint in her eyes, she reached over and rested her hoof on my, my . . . what was this part of the forelimb called? Cannon! Nevertheless, her aquamarine hoof resting on my hairy skin took me by such surprise that I forgot my present troubles. As I was looking at her with an uncomprehending gaze, she continued, “Peachy's magic is only looking at your insides, and just to be safe, she always does a complete scan for any type of physical injury.” The paramedic pegasus took on a reflective expression. “Her magic does feel a bit weird at first, I know,” she said, as if she had personal experience of this. “But that'll phase out in a few seconds.” Her moderately furrowed brows relaxed. “The scan will only take a minute or two, so take a deep breath, and think of nice things while we wait for Peachy to finish, okay?”
“Okay,” I repeated quietly, stealing a glance at the colorful magic on my hind leg. True to her words, and to my immense relief, sensation returned to my hind leg. In fact, the unicorn's magic was now merely making me feel momentary numbness where it traversed. Now that I was becoming tranquil, I found it fascinating to have magic applied on me.
Medical Brace withdrew her leg once she seemed to be sure I was no longer anxious. Maybe it was a deliberate effect of Peachy's magic, or I simply had understood its innocuity, or maybe the mellow pegasus could channel tranquility with her touch; in any case, I felt much relieved. The fact that I hadn't been taken to an imaging machine but to a unicorn, who was now scanning me with magic, was positively bewildering. Why was I treated to this kind of an exception? Would it be a good idea to ask? If I presented the query in an ingenious manner, they wouldn't give me strange looks for being unponylike. Then again, was magical scanning common knowledge? How could I know if I didn't ask? But could asking lead to a series of events that would reveal what I was?
I'd best not ask.
I noticed that the momentary numbness was coursing in my right foreleg. There was actually a thin ring of pale orange indicating the magic's apparent location, gently releasing white glimmers of magic that floated leisurely, like tiny short-lived dandelion seeds. The magical bracelet was simply beautiful to look at. I kind of . . . wanted one. Was it feminine to like a sparkly magical bracelet? I couldn't say for sure. Would I happily show it to my friends back in my original plane of existence? Would I dare to show it to Benny, David, Peter, and Thomas? I doubted that. They weren't my only friends, but . . . Were those four my friends any longer?
Two weeks back, I was with them in Benny's home. I didn't see them much anymore, but when I did, I wanted to have fun, like we used to. All had started quite well that evening, and I was enjoying myself while I still could. Then, as I had come to anticipate, my friends began to drink themselves stupid. I loathed the intoxicating consumable from the bottom of my heart, and for too long had I passively watched my friends enslave themselves to the wills of the abhorrent sludge. I never felt comfortable in the presence of those who were drunk. On the contrary, their preternatural joy frightened me, which I easily converted into an empowering emotion: animosity. I had decided that if I failed to change their habits, I would no longer associate myself with those four friends. So, that evening, I feared that several years of shared friendship was coming to an end with finality, and I hoped I wasn't powerless to prevent it. I demanded that my friends quit alcohol for good. No exceptions, no pardons, and no excuses. I told them how alcohol was one of society's greatest stumbling blocks, perhaps the worst humankind has met. I explained that alcohol shattered families and caused violence, health problems, and even death. To my disheartening dismay, things quickly went pear-shaped, and my friends, they . . . They were untrustworthy, unseemly, insincere drunkards whose affability was nothing more but a mendacity constructed by their alcohol-corrupted minds! I really didn't want to . . . I didn't want to think of this anymore!
Hastily, I distanced myself from the surprisingly emotional look on my recent past, spotting the magical imaging bracelet retract from my left foreleg towards my torso. In spite of my cogitations, the continuing difficulty to adjust back to my form, and the persistent worry for my health, the uplifting effect of witnessing the shimmering brilliance hadn't been snuffed out entirely. I should have been thinking of nice things, like Medical Brace had encouraged me to.
I needed to think of something different to dilute my negative feelings before the scan ended . . . Something I liked . . . Cars! I liked cars. I made a quick slideshow in my mind but soon stopped at one image: a memory of my car on the clear day I had bought it, parked on its spot near my current residence. It was as if the sky above had shared its color with the 55 kW wonder machine. The vision was beautifully picturesque, with a road separating the parking lot from a green meadow, a forest not far away. I lived in a green neighborhood, but then again, the city I lived in was quite green with flora. Anyhow, I had been quite happy with my purchase, and my lips reflected that. It was a memory pleasantly unrelated to my present reality.
Speaking of reality, according to my nervous system, the magic emitting from Peachy's pale orange horn was now traveling up my neck. The scan would travel to my brain, and . . . maybe it would delete my deleterious ailment? That would be more than perfect! Peachy herself seemed to be in a peaceful trance with her head aligned down, as if she had fallen asleep standing.
“Psst.” The paramedic pegasus leaned a smidgen closer. “Listen carefully, hon. I'll let you in on a little secret: Peachy may tickle your nose,” she confided with such muted magnitude that I might not have heard it if I didn't have pony ear drums. The innocent look on her muzzle as she withdrew gave me a bad vibe, bringing my ears down along with a frown.
“Why's that a secr—?” I started, but my ears flipped up in surprise when she shook her head sharply.
“Shh. Just wait,” she whispered, casting a quick glance at the entranced unicorn, as if to affirm she hadn't been alerted. “It'll be good.” Before I could assemble a thought into spoken format, my sinuses began to itch. Badly. Intuitively, I averted my head from the ponies and closed my eyes. I suppose Peachy's magic was in my nostrils now, and it was like I had inhaled hair spray directly from the nozzle. I tried to quell the overwhelming irritation with sheer willpower, but it was simply insufferable.
“AHSPLYAaahhgh!”
I let out an unbridled sneeze. I was decently dizzy after the expulsion of air, and I sniffled reflexively a few times. Something ran down to my lips, and it . . . tasted salty? “Eagh!” I stuck out my tongue in disgust—Huh? What? Only now did it dawn on me that Medical Brace was laughing. Oh, she wasn't only laughing; she had collapsed to the floor, clutching herself tightly.
While I was genuinely unable to comprehend what was so funny, Peachy was observing the pegasus with saucer eyes and an ajar jaw. Shortly, she began to frown. “Oh no,” she lamented quietly, upon which the unicorn's pinnae lost their rigidity. That must be a bad sign!
“Oh no, what?” I worried, but she was apparently too focused on watching the merry mare to hear my faint vocalization. My peace of mind began to erode as fears that I had impressively held at bay started to drench my mind . . . which could now be doomed to cease working due to an eternally untreatable injury that would permanently kill me to death! Oh nononononono! The medical mares wouldn't let that happen to me! Okay, okay, had to calmly quick—quickly calm myself . . . Becoming calmer . . . Calming down . . . There! Regular respiration rate restored and panicked grimace prevented! That wasn't so difficult. I suppose the relaxant I had ingested was thankfully still doing its stuff.
But for how long . . . ?
Anyhow, now that I was somewhat collected again, I noted that the nearly uncontrollably laughing pony began to address the flatly staring unicorn: “Dear, hahahahaha! Dear, Pea-Peashihihihi! Peacherine em-em—” She produced a long chortle, collecting herself (somewhat) to blurt out: “Peacherine Emily Hale!” As she laughed herself supine, my eyes darted over to the named pony for a blink of an eye. Ponies had human-like middle names? I . . . didn't? Why did I think of that? This scene had me so deeply and utterly confused that I couldn't even think straight. The aquamarine mare certainly had fun, but her colleague's countenance had begun to take on the markings of disdain. “You, you, hahahaha! Have-hav-hahahaha-ha-have, have, have lost,” Medical Brace stammered merrily. “Lost the bet!” she managed before she again succumbed to her overwhelming hilarity.
Some of her exultation transmitted to me but only brought me an awkward smile. “What bet?” I asked uncertainly, glancing at the apparent loser. She seemed to be absorbed in glaring sternly at the exhilarated mare, and I had spoken too quietly; I was promptly ignored. Again. Perhaps it was simply best to wait for the situation to normalize, then hear if they'd explain this 'bet' without my direct involvement. I wasn't in imminent danger. I hoped. Peachy would've restored order by now if I was. Still, I didn't understand any of this.
The paramedic seemed to gather herself, rolling over prone to aim her bluish-green hoof at me with a drained smile on her. “Best sneeze I've ever heard from a mare.” Huh? Did she . . . just congratulate me for sneezing? And called me a mare? I almost frowned in disgruntlement. I didn't enjoy being called a mare, let alone actually being one, but necessity dictated that I keep my protests unspoken.
Medical Brace pushed herself onto her haunches, wiping her tears of mirth into her right pastern. “That was, by the way, much more than I had expected,” she said to me, then let out a long and content exhale. “Mares I know produce only a suppressed 'atchi'.” She accented that onomatopeia by pressing her forehoof to her snout, and I suppressed a groan. “But not you,” she giggled. So, my sneeze wasn't typically feminine, then? Woohoo . . . I was beginning to consider imitating Peachy's indignant expression. Medical Brace finally noted said look on the unicorn, and it diminished her merriment. “I'm sorry. I guess I surprised myself,” she said with a tone too merry for the situation; Peachy's lips seemed to contort with a stifled snarl. The pegasus looked at me. “Anyway, thanks to your most opportune sneeze, I've now won myself two free spa coupons.” She brought her forehooves together before her muzzle for a moment. “And you'll get a raincoat. Isn't that just great?”
I was nonplussed once again. She had won two spa coupons . . . and I had won a raincoat? By sneezing? This was completely ridiculous! First, a nurse who spoke to me like I was a plush toy, and now Medical Brace acting like she had been disconnected from reality! Was I in a hospital with perfectly sane and competent staff, or a crazyhouse with crazies who organize crazy competitions with their non-crazy and unsuspecting patients?!
“Well,” with that icy word directed at the pegasus, Peachy sat down. “I admit that I've been bested, but you're definitely not being very considerate or modest about it.” Medical Brace opened her mouth to speak, but Peachy swiftly shut her up. “I'm not done yet!” she snapped. “I know perfectly well why you were cackling like a madmare, and those excuses I heard were unbelievably pitiful.” The momentarily shocked pegasus put on an unfazed look, but I could see some kind of emotion lingering in her eyes. “For months, you have waited to somehow win a bet that had impossible odds. I didn't expect you to win it either, but now that you have, you should've at least maintained your professionalism. It's not like you would've lost the spa coupons had you remained tactful.” Medical Brace simply gazed away, a trace of annoyance on her lips. “You could lose more than that now.” The unicorn squinted, and I was quite sure I saw a malpractice report being written in her mind.
The pegasus was quiet, hints of morosity pricking her lips. “Althea, dear,” Peachy said with a tense, sarcastic tone. Wait. Althea? “You have a competitive spirit that has a very unfortunate tendency to get the better of you. We both know that, and you've said that you find great thrill in gambling. That's all fine as long as you're civil and respectful, and you ensure nopony is harmed. I'm afraid I can't say that is true this time, and I'm honestly not joking when I question if you've completely abandoned your so-called acclaimed empathy just so you could gloat over a trifling last-minute victory.”
Alth . . . Medi . . . The darn winged pony thingie whatever closed her eyes and aimed her muzzle up, then placed a hoof on her sternum. “I prefer you call me Embee, thank you very much,” she countered the biting criticism with an air of dismissive righteousness. “And I do care about others,” she said as she relaxed from her pose. “I always do, and don't you ever again give that a second thought,” she seemingly warned, face nonchalant. I guess she had taken offense. Then, she sighed, and sincerity emerged on her countenance. “Peachy, please. We're great friends, and you know that every patient I'm with is my friend, too. I would never wish to harm my friends.” If it hadn't been for her beseeching tone, I would've sworn she was being duplicitous. I would've also sworn that ensuring I'm not milliseconds away from death is more important than their completely useless friendship junk. Peachy seemed to lose a tiny fraction of her strict look in favor of mistrusting incredulity, and I truly hoped that Embee's claim was more than a desperate attempt to save her own skin. “So, hon.” She looked toward me with a careful smile. “No harm done? I just had a little laugh, and we can simply forget that it ever was a matter worth raising a squabble over.” Faint signs of genuine fear migrated from her tone into her amethyst eyes.
Darn my heart, because it felt sorry for her.
Peachy aimed an expectant look of concern my way. “I apologize for my colleague's indiscreet outburst. Are you alright? Medical Brace didn't hurt your feelings, did she?”
While Embee's 'little' laugh had greatly confused me, and I understood now why it had infuriated Peachy, I definitely didn't want to give the impression that I had been severely affected . . . and consequently place Embee in a stickier situation than she might already be in. My cover couldn't afford the spotlight if repercussions were to befall her because of my involvement.
Embee's confidence was evaporating, most likely at the realization of her own conduct. I was moderately annoyed at her, even feeling a little betrayed; however, I was in a vital position to defuse the situation. I needed to maintain my façade at all costs, but that look of fear in her eyes . . . Perhaps I should count myself lucky that protecting myself and helping her were not mutually exclusive.
I creased my lips into a smile. “No worries, Peachy,” I said casually, and the brows of both mares ascended in mixed inquiry and surprise. “You heard what your dear friend said before, right? I'm her patient, which means I'm her friend, and friends don't harm each other.” Cursorily, I noted that what I had said with my emasculated larynx threatened to make me feel wistful for my frie— for my original voice, that is.
Embee seemed to be at a loss for words. “Thank you, hon,” she finally said appreciatively. I was silent behind my amiable mask, chaining an urge to tell the mares to stop idling and get on with it. Embee nonetheless soon cast a relieved look to her left with a sigh. “Well, there you have it, Peachy.” She playfully poked the unicorn in the ribs, who in turn glared back as her pale orange hoof massaged the point of impact briefly. “It was all fun and games in her opinion, too!” Peachy dropped her leg with a telling sound. When it became apparent Peachy hadn't cancelled her annoyed frown, Embee's friendly smile lessened before she spoke a single word: “Relax.”
Peachy's eyes rolled down. “Hmph. Fun and games . . .” she echoed plainly. A smirk soon dawned on her, which she displayed to Embee. “Just like your bet with Ampoule, huh?”
Embee's face twisted into a discontent impression with a frustrated sigh. “I can't believe I agreed to that. Now, I have to talk to him in that "magnifique" language for at least three more weeks, and he finds it so irritatingly funny when I say something wrong. I mean, I can understand that his lover persuaded him to learn it, but how could I let him coax me into learning it . . . too?” She quit her rant when she took notice of Peachy's complacent look.
I thought the bright yellow stallion was from a foreign land, but it seemed I was mistaken; Embee's competitiveness could indeed get the better of her, but that was principally irrelevant. I hadn't exonerated her just so the two mares could continue to ignore me. “So, um, hello?” I suggested with minor impatience while glancing obliquely, seeing only two-colored hair in that direction. I expected the medical practicants to actually practice medicine, and I was tempted to roll out more sarcasm; out of courtesy, I didn't.
“Oh!” Producing a contrite smile, the feathery-maned unicorn shifted her attention to me. “I'm very sorry. It looks like I got a little caught up flapping my gums with my colleague here.” The disapproving glance she followed up on the pegasus didn't go unnoticed by either of us. “She's very sorry, too,” she added quickly. Embee looked taken aback at Peachy speaking in her stead, but nothing on her expression spoke of offense. In my eyes, what Peachy did was rude. “Please, allow me to present you some help first.”
The unicorn doc looked behind herself, and a small tissue was swiftly hovered to me from a box placed on her desk. With the white object practically at the midpoint between her and me, Peachy's warm expression turned expectant, then puzzled before becoming very quizzical when uncomfortably long seconds passed without any action from me.
Clueless on what I'd have to do, I swallowed nervously. “What is it, hon?” Embee wondered, frowning. It was obvious I was doing a faux pas that any real pony would know how to avert.
Peachy stalled for a few more agonizing seconds, then put a smile on herself with a sympathetic sigh. “A thousand apologies. I understand now. I'll do it for you, if you don't mind.”
“I don't mind,” I complied almost reflexively. Then, the white tissue took an approach path to my visible snout, and that's when I took notice of the substance there. That was a gross and humiliating discovery, and now I knew what Peachy was trying to have me realize: I was supposed to grab the piece of absorbent paper with my . . . hoof? Too late for that, and probably physically impossible, too.
Thinking quickly, I leaned in a smidgen to meet the levitating tissue, and I did my best to blow my nostrils clear. It was an odd thing to do on the account of a muzzle being quite unequal in shape and position compared to a human nose. The hygienic product, which was surprisingly resistant to my light push, soon rubbed the unpleasant materials off thanks to Peachy's telekinetic initiative. However, I felt terribly inept and humiliated as the tainted tissue was withdrawn.
“Uhm . . . I'm sorry, I, um, didn't quite . . . quite . . .” I trailed off, drawing blanks on how to explain myself. So, I simply looked dolefully at her pale orange hooves, then at my own pair with a defeated sigh. It was still weird to look at them, let alone understand that they were mine. One little tug of the appendage was a more-than-decent confirmation of their inseparable relation to me. ‘I'm sorry, Peachy, but I couldn't grab the tissue because I don't have hands,’ I thought forlornly. Maybe I should've said that?
As a joke . . .
Peachy dumped the tissue into a waste bin by her desk with a faint sound that my perceptive ears nevertheless detected. She rolled out comforting words: “Oh, please don't feel bad. I didn't immediately remember that some unicorns lose their ability to use magic after my scan spell. Luckily, it's just a passing inconvenience.”
‘Yeah, why should I feel bad? I should be leaping in merriment because clumsy pony hooves are obviously superior to dexterous human fingers,’ I replied bitterly, with my own familiar voice . . . now unfairly restricted to my own mind. So many things I couldn't do because I was presently a pony. Correction: unicorn pony; I had forgotten a darn spiral was in my head as compensation for the unsolicited violation of my morphological freedom. But hey, I had magic now. Yippie-kay-yay . . . Most body language requiring a human form was denied to me. Like shrugging . . . and many more natural gestures and actions that I didn't want to think about. In fact, focusing on the deprivation of my familiar body only made me feel bitter and blue.
“Hey, thanks for the help,” I nevertheless said listlessly with a modicum of appreciation. “I guess I was . . . and am a little out of it. I've been, um . . . in the rough today.” No, that was wrong; I was sounding too serious, and now the mares probably wanted to know more than I was willing to tell. I had to say something uplifting, and fast. “Heh, well, only literally in the rough, I think, since I've gotten myself quite muddied up,” I improvised with a sheepish look that hopefully concealed my true emotions; my upright ears seemed to be respectfully docile. “See?” I offered my left foreleg for the mares. “That's mud, all right.” It was like pointing a finger, except with a bigger nail weighing it down.
Both mares seemed to be fairly puzzled. “Quite so,” Peachy murmured, her snout wrinkling as she took a tentative inhale of my begrimed and apparently smelly leg. Carefully, I rested it back to its place, feeling the tiniest shudder when I was once again reminded of my lost fingers.
“Yeah, so, anyway . . .” My smile withered when two sets of curious eyes concentrated back on me. I stalled for a moment as I constructed a half-truth. “Being brought here has made me, uh, so confused, and um, and stressed, that I . . . I can't really think properly.” I paused briefly to hastily think of more ideas. “I mean . . . this brain injury I was told of . . .” I purposefully began to insert fright into my tone. “That is . . . I hadn't thought about that I could . . . but I-I . . now that I do, it's not making me feel okay . . . I'm . . . I'm s-scared, a-and I—” Suddenly, my soprano voice pitched into an unintended squeak before cutting out, and an unwelcome fluid blurred my vision. With emotional anguish pinching my very being into a flinch, I closed my eyes to fight back the tears and turned my head away from the mares. ‘I hope that was enough to dismiss their difficult questions . . . I can't tell them the real reason I'm in pain,’ I thought as I began to normalize my hiccuping respiration. Then, I realized that my feigned fright had actually originated from the very real distress I contained. I had become genuinely afraid, but not of my brain injury; that could be treated with conventional and proven means.
“Oh, it's . . . It's alright, hon,” Embee said, her typically smooth voice tuned to a somber note. With a thin line of water persisting on my lower eyelids, I dared to cast her a gaze. The sight made her frown in pity. “I understand why you're scared, and . . .” She pitched her head, shuffling a restless forehoof. “I'm really sorry if I made you feel terrible when I . . . I . . .” Her voice faded to nothing. Had I made that powerful of an effect on her? In a notable sign of compassion, Peachy cast a look of concern at her friend.
“Yeah,” I said dejectedly, and Embee's ears drooped. A sarcastic comment deriding her laughing fit—unethical, unacceptable, unprofessional—desired to follow, but I wisely dispersed it from my mind. I didn't want to be distressed and terrified to tears, but was it better to hide those feelings behind anger and detest projected at Embee, maybe even berate Peachy, too? No, that was unjust and wrong, and it wouldn't solve anything. In fact, I shouldn't express my anxiety at all; it could unleash my full anguish. Instead, I shrouded it with a feigned smile. “Let bygones be bygones,” I offered, expecting to help set this assumably routine medical examination back on its proper course . . . and drag Embee up from the gutter she had sunk into.
Her ears perked. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” she mumbled with the tiniest smile. She soon looked to her left. “So, Peachy? What can you do to help her feel better?”
Peachy sighed deeply. “It's best I tell her the news.”
Finally! The moment I had been waiting for! Or dreading for . . . “Come on. Spill it out, then,” I said with careful anticipation, my tone cracking in spite of my best efforts. All my fear and grief was resisting efforts to repress it; however, disastrous panic would be indubitable if I couldn't.
“All right, let me review first,” the doc pony said, closing her eyes and dropping her head to rest on her upended hoof. A suspenseful moment began, during which I began to reflect on how surreal all this was in order to strengthen my fortitude: I was in a hospital in the company of two creatures that normally shouldn't exist. One of them had helped bring me here by literally winging it, and the other had recently scanned my insides with her innate magic. To top all that, I had become a being that by all accounts should be completely fictional . . . but I didn't want to think of that! Geez! Why couldn't I give myself some peace? I had to distract myself with . . . Cars! Any of them! Renault 19! Random facts . . . Stylish and modern. Designed by Giugiaro. Took 16 hours to manufacture one car.
“Hmm.” Peachy's brows bushed, and my attention immediately jumped to her. Was that a good hum? My weak smile wanted to invert in worry, but I had to be confident and patient . . . because I was a patient. A patient patient! That was kinda funny. Okay, smile integrity improved by 75%. Not that I had any expertise in scientifically measuring smile integrity.
Peachy disengaged from her magically collected data inspection and gingerly rested her hoof on the floor. The expression on her face spoke of goodness coming my way, without actually speaking a single word, because faces don't speak, but the mouth does, and that's part of the face, so the face does speak. So to speak. “May I say,” the speaking face spoke, joining her forehooves, “I have some splendid news for you, dear miss.” Oh . . . That title was uncalled for; however, it was like a small slap that thankfully pushed my mental turbulence beneath a formidable layer of minor disgruntlement.
Embee giggled amusedly. “That's so like Aidin when he wants to sound high-class.” Peachy replied to the comment with a sly smile, rolling her auburn eyes. I wasn't exactly amused myself, though I think the unicorn said something positive before calling me a . . . "dear miss". My masculinity would certainly be forever grateful. Nevertheless, I couldn't let myself frown in displeasure. Tolerance was the key here, and I shouldn't take female pronouns as insults.
“Unlike Aidin,” Peachy said smugly, “I actually lived in Canterlot for longer than two weeks.” Upon hearing that, whatever thought that was about to congregate vanished, and I had to really, really, REALLY vanquish a fanboyish sputtering storm of astonishment with a wrecking ball made of neutronium. If the ponies had even glanced at me, they would've seen my face blank in unprecedented incomprehension because, well . . . well, well, Canterlot existed? Somewhere here? In another realm that was connected to this one? Was this even Earth? Was I in Equestria? What the . . . what, what what whatwhatwhatwhatWHAT!? Oh my GOSH! I had I had, I had to, to calm to calm calm downdown right and left NOW! Whoa . . . At least my smile was a lot more authentic now. Embee rolled her eyes. Did she? I think she did. She blew air past her lips in a dismissive manner. That's what the mare did. Okay, I was back in the present moment and reality. Yes. Good. Did I miss something? Miss? No, that disagreement didn't warp my face. Just a silly word! Anyhow, Canterlot! Where? How?
“This is absurd,” Peachy said with a disbelieving giggle, and I had to stop my smile from becoming an involuntary grin. “We're getting awfully distracted, again.” I couldn't let them know how awestruck I had been or that I now wanted to know how to get to Canterlot and then go there as soon as I had been cured and my dangly-do was back! “I'm sorry about that,” Peachy said to me with a sheepish grin, an expression she replaced with a calm but gentle look soon after. “The splendid news that you've waited so anxiously for is this: you're perfectly healthy.” Wait, what did I hear?
“Huh?” flew out from my mouth after a moment of dumbfounded staring. “R-really? Can you run that me by again?” I had to do a double take on myself. “I mean, I mean, uh, did you say that I'm fine?”
Peachy chuckled warmly. “That's right.” She nodded. “You're healthy.” I still had trouble believing my ears. “A few insignificant contusions and scrapes are the worst you've suffered, and luckily, there's no brain injury of any kind.” The two mares exchanged relieved smiles. “I think this means we can all let out a collective sigh of relief.”
Peachy then sighed, which seemingly bemused Embee into staring blankly at her friend for a short moment before glancing away with a smirk. Although Peachy's gesture seemed to be of token quality and a touch awkward, I was too happy to be bothered by such tiny issues.
“I admit, hon, even I was a bit worried that you really were suffering from a brain injury,” Embee said with her sweet voice.
My face was affixed in a rictus of delight. “I . . . I . . . I'm speechless,” I managed, feeling like my head wanted to float to the ceiling.
“Hey, I promised you a share of carrots if you were okay,” Embee reminded, and I basked in the warmth of the pleasing promise and her friendly gaze. She tilted her head, eyes rolling to the angled side. “But, to be honest . . .” She set her sights on me, empathy written on her muzzle and ears turning flaccid. “I would've shared them anyways, because I would've felt awful if I didn't.”
“Thatch, that's, touch, um . . . Thank so you very much, uh . . . Thank you so very much!” I stammered in exuberance-induced dysphasia. Both mares stifled their laughter, and I felt an urge to embrace them in joyful gratitude, which my rational side dissuaded me from. “Sorry. I'm just so happy that I can't even speak right,” I said, embarrassment tinting my voice, its perennial femininity unable to punch through my delightful daze.
Peachy looked at me, comprehension shining in her eyes. “I think I can relate to that.” She seemed to hesitate, a hoof placed to her curved lips. “Now, sticking to my end of the deal with Embee, you'll receive my . . .” Her tiny cough transitioned into a small laugh. “A raincoat, I mean. If you want it, that is.” Embee surreptitiously rolled her eyes. “Anyhow . . .” Fighting an urge to sit upright and clap my forehooves together at the idea of soon receiving a garment to hide my nudity, I observed in beatitude as Peachy returned to her desk and telekinetically procured a pen and paper from a drawer. “After Embee and I sign this document, you're free to leave.”
“What? It's that simple?” I queried, a big part of me unbelieving that I wouldn't need to spill out a plethora of personal information, fill a dozen-page form on past medical conditions, be hauled in to take a blood test, and pedantically explain how a Talbot Horizon differentiates from a Dodge Omni. “Uh, you mean, no obligations?” The friendly doc mare shook her head. “I can go home, just like that?” A nod. “You and Embee scribble your signatures on that paper, and that's it?” This was simply too good to be true, but I'd be a total blockhead if I started to vocally question the lack of red tape.
“Sure enough,” Peachy affirmed as she telekinetically signed the document, after which Embee walked over to do her part. “You see, we aren't mandated to monitor your health when you're principally unharmed and don't need any acute aid. This document—” She tapped her hoof on it twice, startling Embee into dropping the pen and giving the unicorn a brief glower. Peachy didn't seem to notice. “—is a record that states a doctor and another practitioner treated a patient back to health, granting us the legal permission to discharge the patient, meaning you, from the hospital. Anyhow, I'm sure you wish to receive Embee's carrots, my, uh, your raincoat, and . . .” An evaluating look affixed onto her visage. “Perhaps clean yourself up before you go, too.”
I ran the most important data through my head and realized that . . . this was exceptional! I wouldn't stay here for days! I wouldn't have to! I wouldn't need to! So many things had gone wrong, I had suffered so tremendously, but finally . . . YES! I simply beamed in delightful bliss, watching as Embee deftly took the pen back into her mouth to sign the document. I could never do that. Because . . . I've never had to? At any rate, I envisioned myself leaving within the next thirty to sixty minutes, wearing my new and modest raincoat, and giving the hospital a not-so-modest raspberry once I was outside. No disrespect to the staff, of course. However, I was inclined to savor a few carrots before leaving, to avoid passing out from fatigue. Judging by my stomach's silence, it had already done that; a few orange roots would certainly wake it up.
A light tap indicated Embee had dropped the pen onto the desk. “So, I guess we're done here?” she presumed with a casual smile.
“Unless something suddenly comes up, then yes,” Peachy replied with a matching expression. “I need to pen down a few more details, but you two can go when you please.” Then, they both looked at me. “Now, this may sound like an odd question, but are you able to walk?”
My smile vanished instantly. “Oh, uh . . .” I realized I had been sitting immobile for so long that I had become complacent with my posture, and the concept of standing up and walking sent a fierce wave of dread through me; however, the two ponies were unwittingly pressuring me to behave like a normal pony, and it was imperative that I did behave like a normal pony. My survival depended on it. “Of course I can walk,” I assured lamely, but I quickly shaped my face with a mask of incredulity. “I mean, what kind of a silly question is that?” I produced a small, somewhat forced laugh, which nonetheless sounded so strange coming from my female's voice box. Everything did. Regardless, to prove myself, I sat up with much impetuousness, but the pressure I placed on my strange fingernails and heels made me feel nauseous, and I slouched almost immediately.
“Please don't rush yourself, hon,” Embee cautioned as she strode towards me. “While it's true that you're healthy, the scan may've debilit—”
“Nonsense!” Her concern was enough of a motive to straighten myself up. “I can and will do this!” I deflected her worry with a confident reply and expression, although small beads of sweat were tickling the skin underneath my mane. I had to act now, and so, without paying much attention to how absolutely strange it felt to place weight on slightly elastic keratin features, I stood up on my four legs and resolutely made my way towards Embee. Or that's what I tried to do. My humanity stubbornly prevented the four-legged locomotion from initiating properly. Just as I realized things were going awry, a disturbingly feminine yelp came reflexively as I—
“Oh my goodness! Are you all right, hon!?” I heard Embee cry after I had pivoted myself to take a plunge to the floor, disrupting my congenital data recorder upon impact. Blinking the double vision from my eyes, my tactile perception told me that my trailing end was pointing at the ceiling, whereas my forelegs were aimed towards my hindhooves. Also, my jaw hurt a little, but that was hopefully just an ephemeral sensation. While my failure was superficially embarrassing, the serious side was that it might've renewed the concerns for my health.
I quickly raised my head from the floor to do the most reasonable thing in this situation: I laughed. “Hahahahaha!” Ugh. That barely sounded like me, but it was extremely important that I didn't show any detest, awkwardness, or sorrow for being a female pony. “I'm okay, I'm okay! My, uh, legs have only fallen asleep,” I assured with a hasty untruth, grinning sheepishly. Both mares were concerned, and that sight almost turned my grin into an expression of fright. “Um, no need to help me up. I can do it myself.”
“Oh, all right,” Peachy acquiesced warily. It was only now that I noticed she had leapt up onto her desk in an aborted attempt to supposedly rush to my aid.
Embee was by my side, a forelimb stretching out for me to grab. I ignored it as I didn't need that kind of help, and so, carefully but resolutely, I began to manipulate my single-digit appendages. First, I gently folded my forelegs in tandem, then utilized them to set me into an awkward sitting stance. Having my furry behind meet the floor was NOT a pleasant feeling. It reminded me I was naked, and that I had an extra hole . . . which I didn't want to think about! Spurred by the disgusting and shocking epiphany, my hind legs stalwartly placed me on my four hooves. Those then ever so minutely expanded under the exertion of my light weight, and that too was a very disturbing feeling. As if I wasn't already quickly nearing the end of my wits, a rebellious part of me then cramped my entire body in protest, demanding fiercely for ascension onto my hind legs. I knew that was physically impossible, and my conscious suppression of that desire wasn't helping me.
“Are you really sure you're okay, hon?” Embee said in genuine worry, and I noticed that my cramp was surrendering to a full-body shiver. Behind my straining smile, I felt like the signals coming from all the features conflicting with my human condition were ordering me to scream at the top of my lungs in abject horror as a prelude to panicked and uncontrollable thrashing. No! That was not going to happen! I had done so well this far, and I couldn't fail now! I simply couldn't!
With intense perseverance and a fierce hate for my weakness, and possibly with the aid of the remnants of Aidin's medicine, I was able to get a hold of myself with remarkable quickness. The terrifying but short intrapsychic battle began to subside, and I shook my inclining head with due care to prevent my flexible ears from swaying with my motion.
“Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry about me,” I said languidly as I cursorily surveyed the ponies. With my physical stability guaranteed and the mental equivalent gradually reconstructing itself, I reinforced my small smile as I conjured an excuse. “I'm really sorry about giving you guys the scares.” I sounded enfeebled; I cleared my throat to reform my tone. “I'm still trying to wake up these insubordinate legs, you see. They wanted to give way under me, and . . . that was a rhy-mee?” I chuckled at my words. The effect on the mares was lukewarm, but I think I was doing well on swaying their minds.
Next, I lifted up my right hind leg. “This one's so sound asleep, it's actually snoring.” Both mares stared in confusion and inquiry, although Embee's lips were curled in uncertain mirth. That was auspicious: my humor was effective! “Wakey wakey, sleepy time's over.” I stomped my leg on the floor. I concealed my perturbation at the nerve signals from the digit with a near-compulsive laugh. Giggle? No. It was a laugh!
I felt uneasy balancing on the very ends of my limbs again. When I had still believed I was dreaming, I was completely okay with my quadruped configuration. I only had to restore that fortitude, and then I'd be fine. How hard could that be? Harder than my hooves, which were actually slightly elastic!
“Oh, I see,” Peachy said after a moment, hopping down to stand before the desk. She was unassured. Why was she unassured? Didn't she appreciate my humor? My sober friends—both of them, not counting Embee—had said my sense of humor was strange. “However, if you don't feel quite okay yet, we can see if it's possible to reserve a bed for you to recover in overnight.”
That suggestion brought me back to earth. “Ah, um,” I stammered in minor alarm, but I hastily constructed a casual expression. I hoped it was casual. “Thanks, but no thanks,” I declined politely, lifting my foreleg off the floor in some form of unthought body language. I placed my leg down with care to avoid repeating my previous error before I continued articulately, “While I perfectly understand your concerns and honestly appreciate your kind and hospitable offer, I assure you, I don't require additional services to augment that which I've already been granted.” I had to applaud myself for my eloquence, but conversely, speaking so much with my femininely gentle voice ironically grated my ears. Reticence was tempting me now, but that option was decisively out of the question.
I was getting strange looks, and I suspected that my recent perissological statement had put the mares in extreme suspicion mode. Cornered so severely, I saw no other way out but to swallow my pride, and I continued humbly to Peachy, “And yes, Medical Brace was absolutely right. That magic you used had an enfeebling effect, but I was overconfident and didn't want to admit I might've been affected. I'm really sorry.” I produced a candid expression. “But I hold no animosity towards you. I'm telling you though, I'm quite fine now. Once I've had my meal and the reward for the sneeze, I'll head back home to rest. Really, I don't need to stay.”
“Reward for the sneeze,” Embee echoed to herself with a chuckle. She was on my side now, I hoped, but Peachy had her hoof on her chin, along with a studious impression that daunted my composure. I truly hoped my verbose declination, subsequent humility, and lowly poise had dissuaded her from ordering me to remain here for any longer than I wanted. I had to look normal . . . and a delicately measured application of humor could be advantageous to that purpose!
“Yeah, a reward for the sneeze,” I repeated, nervousness trying to deform my newly-formed moderate smile. A fortunate epiphany invigorated my faculty for humor, and puckishness flowed to my lips. “Maybe Peachy's holding back a sneeze, huh?” I suggested to Embee.
“What?” the pegasus said in blatant disbelief, giving the unicorn a fast glance. “You're joking, right?”
“Not really.” I cast her a brief glance, concealing my fright that this gamble would come crashing on me behind my maintained coolness. “Do you see how she's holding her hoof close to her snout?” I told the pegasus, my eyes aimed towards the unicorn, whose suddenly puzzled but inquiring eyes momentarily crossed when she looked down her muzzle. “That implies she's at the least prepared for the possibility.”
“Hmm?” the pegasus intoned with some type of consideration in her tone.
“Hey, Peachy, listen. I propose a deal,” I started coolly. “If you sneeze now, you'll get a raincoat . . . I mean, my raincoat,” I incited conspiratorially, and to show that I wasn't being mean-spirited, I laughed lightly. It was a laugh, not a giggle. Giggling is what gir—young females do. I wasn't that. Hence, logic dictates that I couldn't giggle.
“Are you willing to accept that challenge, Peachy?” Embee asked. The unicorn cocked a nonplussed eyebrow and slowly lowered her hoof. I think there was a chance I had just appealed to Embee's thrill-seeking side. Not sure I could utilize that in my favor, though.
“Oh, I get it,” Peachy said after a few seconds, eyelids falling to the midpoint. “You're both being total jokesters to me, huh?” With a tired huff, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I'm sorry, but I can't join that game.”
“Well, I wasn't . . .” Embee started defensively but cut herself off. “All right, you got me,” she admitted reluctantly as the unicorn trotted back to sit behind her desk. “But you know, you could've tried to fake a sneeze,” she suggested cautiously. Peachy glanced upwards with a low sound of discontentment.
“Ridiculous games . . .” the unicorn complained under her breath. After a moment of morose staring at the papers on her desk, she cast her softening sights at me. “Anyway, you said you're okay, and I affirmed the same.” She breathed out a small sigh, then glanced down at the signed papers again. “To be honest with you, I worried that you broke your jaw on that fall.” She glanced aside. “Or broke what I had just scanned,” my forward-aimed ears caught her quietly muttering.
I camouflaged my sigh of release with a normal outbound breath. I was very glad that I had cleverly dissuaded the doc pony from infringing my right of self-determination. I also noted that I was quickly acclimatizing to standing on my hooves, even though opposition still smoldered within me. I didn't enjoy being naked either, but being among ponies made that easier to cope with. I still felt that my posture granted my posterior too much exposure. If I could just somehow conceal it . . . Why did my mind invoke images of mares wearing lingerie? That was just wrong. Or right? I didn't know. Would I wear—I wouldn't think of such things!
“Now, if you have any questions, feel free to ask,” Peachy offered affably. “In any case, Embee will remain with you until you depart from the hospital. It's standard policy, you see,” she explained. Abruptly, the pale orange mare looked askance. “Wait, did I forget something . . . ?” she mumbled, putting on a thoughtful pout.
Evicting the persisting visions of panty-clad ponies from my mind first, I pondered on asking if she did magical scans on humans, and the desire to know how to travel to Canterlot was piquing my curiosity like nothing else. I also wanted to learn why she and her friend had set up a betting game involving my unrequested participation, rewarding me with a raincoat and spurred a conflict that neither party dealt with adequate professionalism. However, I was eager to vacate from the hospital, now that I had been granted a clean bill of health and avoided enforced hospitalization. “No, Peachy. I have no questions to ask,” I said, one last imaginary vision of a strategically clothed pony flashing through my mental canvas. Regardless, I then looked at the pegasus. “So, Embee, if I may call you that, can I have my share of carrots now, please?” I requested politely, licking the middle of my lips to emphasize my desire for food.
I must've looked cute doing it, and my feelings about that were mixed.
“Certainly hon, and yes, you can call me Embee if you like.” She took herself to the exit, where she placed her hoof into a cup-shaped protrusion affixed to the door. “We'll get the carrots from the break room,” she said as she depressed the device. A click emanated from the door, and I realized it was a door handle she was operating. For ponies. Quite ingenious.
“Oh, now I remember!” Peachy exclaimed in frustration as Embee backtracked a short distance on three hooves to open the door inwards; we looked over at the unicorn, and I saw her distance from what must've been a facehoof. “I'm really sorry that it took this long, but can you state your name?” My brows wrinkled in incredulity.
“Of course I can.” Not an eyeblink later did I realize the ramifications of my confident and unfortunately obvious reply. Oh, the pitfalls of trying to act normal . . .
I saw my name, and it was bright and prominent in my mind like a neon sign, but there was another name there. That name had been stripped of its rank and color, and I couldn't allow myself to associate with it. Not here, and not to these ponies. I couldn't hope for Peachy to accept my continued silence, and Embee already knew my name, which she would disclose if I didn't. Feverishly, I pushed my consciousness through the rapid thought lane and took the off ramp that maintained the unaffected look I still miraculously bore. “It's Rosy,” I said succinctly. Suddenly, I felt weird.
“That's a nice name,” Peachy complimented with a smile. “Albeit unusually short,” she noted, amiable inquiry on her face and genuinely innocent mirth in her tone.
“Well, uh . . .” Wait, did I just think I should speak out the rest of my name? I better not do that. My complete name, Rosy Stripes, was utterly false; Rosy was innocuous enough. “It's just easier to say that than my full name,” I explained. “Just like I've called you Peachy, and Embee, um, heh, Embee.” A compulsion drew my lips into a smile, but I still felt weird. Why was I feeling weird? It wasn't related to my hooves, my posture, or my worryingly unclothed form. It didn't have anything to do with my acute vision. Oh darn! Now I was sure of it: Peachy knew I hadn't told my full name! Or was it something else . . . No, the name thing had to be it!
“That's quite reasonable,” Peachy said gently.
“Yeah, it is.” I concurred. The glint of anticipation in her eyes was impossible to deny, and I wanted to leave this room. Now. That meant I had to walk on my four hooves. I knew how to, but the prospect daunted me just as much as staying here did. It had been tough enough to stand like a pony. However, I had to keep my cool at all costs, and it was very important that I didn't act on impatience. Disaster would strike if I caved in and bolted under the duress of anxiety.
“But just for the hospital records,” Peachy continued, her congenial tone and expression informing that she was unaware of my predicament, “I think it wouldn't be too much to ask for your full name.” Well, the unavoidable was now before me, despite my desperate attempts to avert it. Dispiriting resignation brimmed within me, but I was able to chain my demeanor to indifference.
“That's completely fair,” I said. ‘Except that it's absolutely not!’ I wanted to protest, but declining to speak my name would relight the recently doused suspicions. “My name's Rosy Stripes,” I divulged with a faint touch of apology that masked my distress, and I still felt so weird. What was it, then? Something regarding my name? I think I was close to realizing it when my stomach finally awoke with a creaking complaint. Distracted, I dropped my head a little, apprehension and confusion hiding beneath a disconcerted visage. “I'm sorry, but can I go now?” I requested.
I saw the unicorn doc write something into the release document, possibly my name, before her face lifted up with an innocent and kind expression. “Yes, of course you can, and I wish you well. It's very nice that everything turned out fine.” Once again, I plastered a casual mask on myself.
“Ditto!” I said, doing my best to sound grateful. “Thank you for everything.” Yes, everything was fine . . . except I was utterly doomed! At least she hadn't asked where I lived, because that would've placed me right in the frying pan; she'd have looked up who really lived in my home, which was me, which wasn't Rosy Stripes. Maybe I could just scarf the carrots, politely decline the raincoat, and let the rain wash me clean?
I had to get out of here.
Since I had been finally given permission to leave, I began to clear my mind to ensure it wouldn't accidentally interfere with my locomotion as I set my muscle memory to autonomously vacate myself from this odious interrogation room.
Walking on all fours felt extremely strange after the lengthy hiatus, but I didn't think about it. I heard and felt my hooves softly contact the floor, but I didn't think about that. My body swayed. I didn't think. Naked posterior. No think!
With a small sigh, I let my mind resume its normal routines. It was only a few steps before I stood in the white-walled hallway with the light pink floor. I felt like I had just been delivered a hope-shattering blow. I had told them my fabricated name, and sooner or later, it would be called into question . . . ? No, it wouldn't be. The pieces were finally congregating, and I couldn't believe that it had taken me this long to put them together!
This was evidently a different world from the one I had lived in yesterday, and I hadn't materialized out of thin air or literally transformed into a pony this morning. In this universe, I had existed as this since . . . I was born. I had been dangerously wrong; my name wouldn't be discredited! It was most likely adorning the mail slot in my home door, written on the bills I had received and paid, and included in the population register. I think I now began to deduce what had felt weird: this body naturally didn't feel at all like it was mine because it simply wasn't, but my name did, even though that really wasn't mine, either. My feminine name, as inherent to me as it wanted to be, conflicted immensely with my masculine selfhood.
The door behind me closed, throwing me out from my analytical introspection. Embee leisurely strolled to my right. “This way, hon,” she instructed gently, but the floor drew my attention as my train of thought whisked me back onboard.
As long as I acted accordingly, I'd be relatively safe from suspicion. Everypony would . . . Every individual would see me as . . . what I truly didn't identify as. I had no qualifications or aspirations to be what I wasn't. This body I was trapped in belonged to a unicorn mare, and I had to pretend to be her more than in name when I didn't even know what kind of a pony she was!
“Something on your mind, hon?” a soft voice asked. I distanced myself from my mentations once again, looking to the right to meet Embee's amethyst eyes. She had come to a stop to face me and was staring at me with curiosity.
“Uhm . . . no, well, kind of,” I stammered dumbly, which, with the addition of a neutral expression, hopefully obscured my anxiety. “Did you say something?” I feigned obliviousness.
“I said we're going this way,” Embee answered, gesturing with a forelimb behind herself. The hallway was vacant, with a series of doors on both sides, turning to the left after a dozen meters. She tilted her head with her lips creasing upwards. “So, you got lost in your thoughts?”
“Uh, yeah.” I plastered an abashed smile on myself. “I did. Sorry. Sometimes, I think of fascinating stuff that then captivates me completely.” Unbeknownst to Embee, she had graced close to a good point: I couldn't concentrate on comprehending my condition when I was centered in a social situation. I half-coughed, half-laughed when my stomach groaned abruptly. “Anyway, I'm starving, and this isn't the best of places for a chit-chat, so . . . lead the way!” I urged with a lively tone, painting a happier look on my involuntarily borrowed body.
“All right, hon,” Embee said kindly. Hastily, I reminded myself that my fear of my name being fictional had been eliminated, and that things would henceforth go comparatively smoothly if I didn't give anypony a good reason to doubt my sanity, equinity, or assumed identity.
Right as Embee began to rotate around, I was suddenly hit by a speech-crippling revelation! ‘Embee, wait! I haven't properly psyched myself to walk! Oh fff . . . ponyfeathers! Vorwärts!’
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So, the plot thickens...
Wondering if this really is Earth, an alternate universe or anything of that sort.
See's this updated, HALLEJUAH!!!
1155266
Ponies on Earth sounds like an alternative Earth.
1155302
Awesome, innit?
lol like the end of it that was hilarious anyways good chapter cant wait for the next
1155328
The MC's paranoia of his ears betraying his identity made me crack up, I admit.
1155325 Yes, yes it is.
It lives! I'm surprised that they weren't more concerned about MC's psychological well being though. I suppose either they didn't know what went down earlier or they figured that s/he was over it.
1155380
Maybe the subject will still come up?
It's here! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! Yes!!! I'll be back soon, just give me an hour to read this.
1155340 indeed
1155325
So this is an alternate Earth in contact with another alternate Earth (the MLP one)? Or is Equestria part of the Alternate Earth that Rosy is in now?
Oh yes! Another fantastic chapter. And a hilarious one, too. :)
1155476
We'll know some day.
So Equestria obviously exists but is only visited by these ponies for a short time and the female human nurse treated them as almost animals. So half of that seems to indicate transformations while the other half doesn't. Very interesting. Anyway this remains a great story. Thanks very much for sharing it and I hope to see more of it soon.
1155479
.
Yeah, Rosy's not very stress-tolerant, and breaching the limit makes him a touch loopy
So no commets on her lack of a cutie mark?
1155493
Nothing said they visit the place called Equestria for very short times, or visit it at all. Just that Peachy said she had lived in Canterlot for longer than two weeks. That could mean two weeks and one day, or many years. As for the female nurse, perhaps she's simply got a skewed view of ponies, thinking they're all cuddly-wuddly and accepting of her carefree and cheery spirit?
Anyhow, I like your small analysis, and would gladly hear you extrapolate it. I'm honestly fascinated =)
1155654
Not yet. Perhaps they're tactful on that subject, surmising that the muddy mare might take it badly if her blank-flankness is brought to her attention.
Well, the wait is over and I finally got a brand new chapter to read!
I was just reading some fic where a guy randomly turns into Diamond Tiara when I noticed FPV in the featured box, making me think 'Holy crap! Chapter 10 must have been released!'. I can say that I was pleasantly surprised to find not one, not two but three lovely pictures for me to gaze at. The 12,000 words helped, too. It seems that Rosy has finally overcome his/her (I have no idea what pronouns to use now) fear of his/her own voice, or at least is recovering.
This chapter was very detailed (much like Experiments and Experiences) when it came to the finer points. As I've already stated in a previous comment, I always enjoy this substantially. The pictures were excellent as always and the expressions on each pony's face were highly commendable.
In conclusion, this overall was a great chapter. Personally, I thought that the chapter name was just a little revealing, but then again, you always seem to be able to give the story a little twist in some way or another. Jolly well done, and here's to waiting for Chapter 11!
~The Thoughtful
*Yawn* Dang it, do I have to get up? It's Saturday...
(checks FiMFiction)
First Pony View... is updated?
YES
YES 
YES 
YES 
YEEEEEEES!
Good fic, although before I saw the pictures, I thought Rosy Stripes/whatevertheguysrealnameis would look much, much different.
Just tell them what's wrong already!!
is what I want to scream into Rosie's face
It's back! Awesome!
I was thinking Rosy was going to get grilled regarding his/her disheveled state, but then I've never been to a pony hospital so I don't know strict they are on checking things off the social worker checklist, and maybe s/he'd get by without having to make up some kind of story about camping or going for a walk and just getting lost so they wouldn't immediately think s/he'd stepped out of an episode of Law & Order SVU.
And we haven't actually left the hospital yet, so... fingers crossed (since Rosy can't do that anymore).
Edit: I have definitely encountered nurses like that, both as a little kid and as a scruffy 20-something (It's a lot easier now since it's just WTF instead of actually patronizing). I think it's about wanting to be nurturing and reassuring, but not successfully reading if someone wants sympathy/pity for their suffering or respect for how they're enduring it. So I can imagine pretty easily Lisa'd take the former all out of proportion when dealing with a diminutive, soft-spoken mare covered in mud and scrapes. The "real" Rosy might have eaten that up, but of course that's the last pony the narrator wants to be associated with.
1155766
. I always
.
You're perhaps just as happy as I am, or more. I can't tell for sure since I don't have an enthusiameter with me
Anyway, yeah, I've read that Diamond Tiara story, and it's quite different from this one, it shares a few similarites, too. Now don't get me wrong, it's a very interesting story, and I like how the protagonist tries (half-heartedly) to maintain Daimond Tiara's character
As for the pictures, yeah, I told the artists that I had calculated that 4,000 words equaled one image, so that meant three for this one. He had two planned, and I got a request that I forwarded to him, which he so generously drew with aplomb. I'm glad we got that adorable image of Rosy grinning in supreme delight, not to say the two others aren't adorable in their own way (I really like their manes!). Anyhow, It's such a contrast to the serious expressions he's had in all images sans the twig scene in the sixth chapter. By the way, is it just me, or does the second image in this newest chapter make the topmost rosy stripe on Rosy Stripes (haha) like a headband?
Although not related, yeah, he's slowly coming to terms with his voice, even if its girlishness (which he does not want to admit to himself) occasionally disturbs him.
Lots of time was spent on this chapter, and I had to ponder a few times if Rosy was being treated too lightly. Judging by how stressed he became just from trying to behave like a normal pony who in no way used to be a guy the preceding day, especially one who bawled like a distressed girl mere hours ago, any more pressure would've cracked him. Yeah, I'm quite pleased I chose a contemplative ball of nerves as a protagonist. His sanity glitches are fun to write
Last, but not least, that chapter title is in retrospect quite clever. So Much For Nothing. Yeah, that much for a sneeze. Medical Althea Brace, what weird and unusual game did you create?
1155802
You mean... that your reaction was more or less like this?
[youtube=
]
1155889
Color me curious, what did you expect him/her to look like?
1155895
Yeah! Rosy should sue the hospital for the distress he suffered at their tardy telling of his health! I mean, right after he's got his body back and is back in his own world. Oh, wait, the hospital int hat world didn't treat him. Oh well . . .
1155969
Well, Rosy has not thought of a cover story beyond the hasty "I seem to have dirtied myself", and MB will stay as his custodian until he walks out the hospital doors. Anything can still happen.
1156042
>>Yeah! Rosy should sue the hospital for the distress he suffered at their tardy telling of his health! I mean, right after he's got his body back and is back in his own world. Oh, wait, the hospital int hat world didn't treat him. Oh well . . .
Heh. Not quite what I meant, buddy :)
There's a reason I want Rosy to reveal her/himself. Whenever I read this story, I have the nagging feeling that Rosie's situation is not quite as unique as he/she thinks. Something along the lines of
"Oh, I see. Another one of those Earth humans stuck in one of our ponies. Why didn't you say so earlier?"
I actually read this about an hour or so ago, but never got the chance to comment because life happens, but now that I have the time, I'll make sure to share my thoughts.
When Peachy said she had good news, I was half expecting the word pregnant to make an appearance. Just imagine the psychological blow that would have dealt to Rosy. Then again, I think that'd be all that would be needed to shatter the last vestiges of his psyche, eh?
Embee I could definitely see as a recurring character. Despite her aloof nature, she seems like the sort of pony who anypony can open up to given enough time. I'd very much love to see more of her.
*Before checking fimfiction*
Five more minutes....
*After checking fimfiction*
Must...not...fall...asleep...again...
Great story, very funny. Really want to see more of an explanation of how he turned into a pony, if she just made up the whole thing in her head because of her neighbor, if this world is equestria that humans found, if it's an alternate world, ect, ect ect.
I'm supposing that i will have to wait for the end of the story to get a decent explanation.
1156042
Well, I can see what you mean by headband. A very oddly placed one at that, but a headband all the same!
1156129
Pregnant? That would have been hilarious!
1155969
Fascinating observation on the nurse. I feared I had written an offbeat but well-meaning nurse whom Rosy antagonizes because he allows himself to become annoyed by Lisa's behavior, thus converting his anxiety into animosity that he projects at her in hopes to attain piece of mind. Wait, I did do that. Hum . . .
Anyhow, I guess it could be debated that the "real" Rosy would absorb the nurse's conduct without a flinch, maybe show a smile as well (awkward, honest or feigned; take your pick), but the MC's a guy whose male mind does not take kindly to the audible syrup he's subjected to. I mean, if someone came talked to me like I'm a cute little puppy, I'd certainly be utterly bemused, maybe even laugh in mixed disbelief and amusement and kindly ask them to stop being ridiculous if they're joking. If not, I'd tell them to stop being creepy. Rosy was full of stress though, so he didn't have the mental fortitude to hold back his irritation.
1156082
I know this all must sound terrible to you, but try to stay strong, and I can't imagine the pain you're enduring, but I sincerely wish you recover to enjoy the life as a mare in our mids. Remember, we are all here to help you."
Heh. That'd be an interesting twist.
"Oh, poor you. You should've told earlier. We got a support group here, actually. Here's the leading psychiatrist's call card, should you wish to join the group. *hug*
1156129
Oh my! Pregnant? Excuse me while I snicker in amusement that regrettably hides the sympathy I have for Rosy if he truly had an embryo developing in his, er, her womb. But, yeah, that kind of astronomically devastating impact would've pushed his sanity meter to off-scale low, and then the real nightmare would begin as he'd by undoubtedly feel that he's carrying a frightening parasite within himself. Like a xenomorph, but less gore at no loss of horror.
Oh yeah, you're not the only one who is likng Embee, and I'm not talking about Rosy alone. He's regarding Embee quite well in spite of the laughing fit she had. He did forgive Embee, and I'll definitely keep her in the picture in the future so that we see how Rosy interacts with her. Show contrasts and similarities
.
1156285
Glad you could stay up
Oh, Rosy, er, the MC's definitely wants to know the how and why, even unthinkingly, whenever he notices his snout. Thing is, he's as clueless as we are, and probably wants to know a thing or two about this world with two sapient species living in harmony, but does not wish to blow his cover because he's got the conception that doing so will spell disaster. Maybe he'll open up eventuall? Anyhow, don't expect this story to conclude once answers on where he is and what has occurred to him come. He'd want his way of life back, would he not? Conversely, living in a familiar world inhabited by cute ponies could be quite alluring . . .
1156290
Well, in that picture, I almost can see a rosy pink hairband on Rosy's head. If someone draws a humanized Rosy, and she has a hairband... *guffaw*
Weird I was just wondering if this would EVER update again 2 days ago, then it did
Yay the next chapter! Still good, can't wait for the next one
1155766
Whats this Diamond Tiara fic you are talking about here? Made me curious to look at it.
1156372 Gee, now I'm imagining Rosy's mane done up like the spa twins... Hmmm... Idea!
1156385
I'm happy to satiate your need of entertainment
1156387
.
I hope I can write the next chapter quicker, and edit it quicker as well
1156411
That'd be this one: http://www.fimfiction.net/story/35583/A-Jewel-of-a-Problem
1156413
Sounds promising!
I'm happy for MC I'm really am that things turned out so well. I thought the chapter meant that things became worse for him but it wasn't it seems like the only bad thing was that he tripped from walking, although I thought he was walking and following Embee to the food court or cafeteria in the first place.
That was great!
The plot thickens! I can't wait for the next chapter!
1156372
A humanised Rosy Stripes? That's something I need to see. I would draw one myself, but my art skills are... mediocre, to say the least. You could always ask Paper Pony to see what they could do, though.
On a completely unrelated note, I really need to get a profile picture. Perhaps a brain to enhance my account name?
Im getting the feel that this is mainly ranting...
1156443
After all the torment the MC's gone through, it was about time he got a breather by having good things come his way.
Anyhow, he sure intends to follow Embee. Just that part of him screamed "I ain't and won't behave like no darn small horse!" and stupidly sabotaged his scheme to appear like a normal pony being.
1156472
Gotta get to writing it soon, then!
1156489
Well, I could, but I'd rather have him draw that without my asking. Maybe I can introduce Rosy to a mirror and his imagination plays a trick by seeing 'her' human self.
1156504
Eh... I'm sorry?
1156489
That made me think. If the main character is in Rosie's body, then the opposite might be just as true.
I can only imagine her horror at having 5 tiny sausages on each forehoof (and an additional one elsewhere), fleshy, mostly hairless skin and having to balance on two legs
>> Suomibrony
More or less the same, but when I read the fic about a month ago, I thought she would look younger, and her mane colours are a little different then I thought. I did read it on fanfiction.net though, so I didn't have any pictures to accompany it
1156573
That could be very possible. Say, do you smell an idea for a fan fic? A mare in a guy's body?
1156594
. I recall someone saying they pictured Rosy looking like Sweetie Belle, but with different mane colors. Gotta update on fanfic side, too. No hurries yet though. A day or two, and the chapter's there, no doubt.
Well, okay
Brilliant as always! But you have to wonder something, earlier Rosy got flashes of memories yet s/he remembers his/her time as a human, so is Rosy a human turned pony through trans-dimensional travel or is Rosy's human life the dream, or is Rosy his alternate universe pony self in which they are one in the same which means they are connected? One way or the other this is still amazing and fantastic!
1156638
Oh, yep. Our olfactory senses seem to agree!
There have been few pony-becomes-human fics that I know of, and even fewer ones that don't devolve into brony-dates-favorite-humanified-pony or similar. Now add a bit of gender-bending... Damn, I don't think this has been done yet!
Now add the amount of detail and introspection that FPV has - this could make for a quite unique fic!
I would imagine him getting out of the hospital and going to a convenience store next to his home only to find a unicorn pony manning the register.
A unicorn pony in a 7-11 uniform levitating packages of chips into a bag and asking the human for photo ID for a case of beer.
I would imagine 'Rosey' breaking down utterly and having a laughing fit that would make everyone stop and stare at him like he was a nut, while he had just seen those most awesome\awkward\surreal thing he had ever witnessed.
Tracking. :3
1156489
i.imgur.com/Mjdmu.png
1156939
It... It's perfect! Did you draw that up in the time it took since I mentioned you or did you already have that made somewhere?
1156987
Haha thanks :] Just sketched in the last hour. I hadn't considered a human version of Rosy before.
1156042
Um... Yes.
1157043
Let me tell you, it would take me at least 4 hours to do anything close to that. How do people make such fine masterpieces in such little time? I shall never truly know, unless you tell me (no need to bother, though). You are amazing.
gargleflargle! A new chapter!
And of course a new chapter brings a new cliffhanger...
Ohwell, can't wait to see how this turns out. I mean, if she can't walk, then they would defiantly be worried. Rehabilitation for ponies? Gah, I dunno
Loved the chapter, can't wait to see what comes next
Hopefully the next one will come sooner then the last :D
Ohwell, keep up the good work