• Published 7th Jan 2013
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Asylum - Daemon of Decay



When Twilight Sparkle went to bed, she had friends she loved and a life she enjoyed. But she awoke to hospital gowns and padded restraints. And the doctors, they keep telling her that she is sick and none of it was real. They’re lying, right?

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Chapter 17

Asylum

Chapter 17

Twilight felt like she was starting to get accustomed to life at Broadhoof. Each morning’s wake up call seemed a little less jarring than before. It was a regimented system that fit nicely with her own prefered method for organizing her daily life. Get up, make bed, take medicine, use shower, march to breakfast. It brought to mind the memories she had of Shining’s days at the military academy, which only served to cover the whole enterprise in a facade of normalcy. The shock and disquiet had faded. There is no need to worry, it whispered, this is all routine.

It made Twilight nervous.

I’m getting used to this, she thought as she swallowed her small cup of pills. Even the oral examination afterwards carried the taste of a routine annoyance like taking out the garbage, rather than the gross violation of her personal space that it was. A heavy but welcome weight settled over her shoulders as she forced herself to focus on that fact. It was better to be irritated and alert than optimistic and blind.

Still, Twilight had no difficulty giving Applejack a full smile when the doctor arrived to escort her downstairs. Having to play the role of obedient patient didn’t make Applejack’s freckled face any less welcome.

“You look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, Twilight,” Applejack chuckled. “Get a good night’s sleep?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, all things considered.”

“Well, that’s excellent. Doctor Rose wanted to see you again this morning, and these examinations always go faster when you’re feelin’ better.” She gestured for Twilight to move ahead, taking up position abreast of her. “I heard you got a letter yesterday.”

“I did,” Twilight said as she watched Applejack from the corner of her eye, keeping her tone even and neutral.

“I hope it was some good news.”

“I think you already know that, considering somepony else read it first.”

To her credit, Applejack still blushed at the accusation. “Now Twilight, that’s just a lil’ security precaution,” she explained, her accent more pronounced as she tugged at the collar of her lab coat. “We have to make sure some patients aren’t gettin’ any contraband or nothin’ like that.”

Twilight halted and turned to look at Applejack. “That’s all, hmm?” she asked, the cold disbelief hanging heavy in the air between them. “You don’t read any of the letters while looking for contraband as well?” She had to keep the smirk from her face when Applejack averted her gaze.

“Okay, we do read the letters from some patients, but it’s still just a security matter. We have to make sure what they read isn’t going to upset them.” Applejack lifted her head, finally looking Twilight in the eye. “And for your information, no, I don’t know what was in your mail. Doctor Rose has the report, and I haven’t seen it.”

“Yet,” Twilight added as she tossed her mane back.

Applejack winced. “Twilight, it ain’t like that. You need to understand, we’re trying to help you, sugarcube. You might not like it, but it’s for your own good. We don’t want you hurtin’ yourself – especially now.”

Twilight snorted, her anger writhing around in the recesses of her mind, eager to be unleashed. As enticing as it was, Twilight only pushed back harder against her emotions, keeping them tightly caged. The honesty in Applejack’s voice was enough to sooth her temper. Whatever else might be going on, Twilight could be sure that Applejack believed in what she was saying.

Besides, Twilight was a scientist, and a scientist never let themselves grow upset over an experiment.

“If you say so,” Twilight allowed, although she softened her words by turning to give her friend a thin smile. The look of relief on Applejack’s face was palpable, and like her other reactions, was quickly added to Twilight’s mental notes. With every subtle test and every innocuous probe, Broadhoof’s versions of her friends revealed more of themselves to her. The fact that Applejack matched her real-world personality and temperament was a hopeful sign, but Twilight knew better than to jump to any conclusions. The hypothesis is sound, but I still need more data.

They traveled in silence, but as they passed down another unfamiliar hallway it became apparent that they weren’t headed to the cafeteria. “Uh, Applejack? Aren’t we going to get breakfast?”

“Sorry sugarcube, not till later. I told you, Doctor Rose wanted to give you a proper physical examination this morning, and that means no food until we’re done.”

I’m starting to regret having spent dinner searching for Fluttershy instead of eating, she considered with a huff. Her stomach grumbled in agreement.

Doing her best to not think about whatever the other patients were stuffing their faces with, Twilight focused upon mapping their journey out in her head, adding the hallways and intersections to her growing map of Broadhoof. The traffic was surprisingly light, a pair of nurses trying to get a screaming colt up off the floor the only distraction along during journey. The lack of activity might have been suspicious, but the fact that most of the hospital’s population was eating went a long way towards explaining the empty halls. Twilight groaned. Stop thinking about food.

Solid wedges of gleaming metal and polished steel rose up before them in the hallway. Bold red letters were painted across them declaring 'Restricted Access'. With their heft and bulk, the double-doors seemed more suitable for a bank vault than a hospital. Every step towards them brought a shiver racing down Twilight’s spine, images of what they might be protecting growing more horrible the closer they came. They were indomitable, inscrutable, oppressive, and overpowering.

They were everything their protector was not. Stationed just outside the doors, the lone guard in his wrinkled uniform snorted and jerked awake at the clip-clop of their approach, raising his head up from behind his small wooden desk. He blinked wearily and barely glanced at Applejack’s identification before bringing his hoof down on the button in front of him. The harsh clack of bolts disengaging was unable to mask his yawn, and he was already laying his head back down to the desk before they had passed through the opening. Looking back over her shoulder to watch the doors lazily swing shut, Twilight couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

The next door Applejack led her to was the burly cousin of the one imprisoning her in her room each night, the hinges reinforced and the window covered in thick bars. For a moment she felt transported into one of her Daring Doo novels, being escorted deep into the bowels of some mad scientist’s inner sanctum.

Twilight’s eyes lingered on the large dead-bolt on the outside of the door. She edged closer to Applejack as memories of her first moments in Broadhoof dribbled down the back of her mind.

“Doctor Rose?” Applejack rapped her hoof against the painted iron, a small placard on the wall marking it as Examination/Treatment Room 04. There was a soft click as the door unhinged its jaw and swung open. Framed in the doorway, the orderly Silas was even more imposing than before. With his broad frame and blank expression, he did a good job impersonating the door he was holding open.

“Oh! Uh, thank you, Silas,” said Applejack as the dark stallion stepped aside, allowing the two mares to squeeze past him.

The examination room was a simple space that fit her predictions closely: tiled floors, cabinets along the walls, and a gaggle of staff in clean uniforms. Doctor Rose, Nurse Ratchet, and two other nurses she didn’t know glanced up as Twilight entered, regarding her like something between a lunatic and a child. Twilight did her best to ignore them as her eyes were drawn to the large piece of furniture that squatted in the middle of the room. Planted between two rectangular towers of chrome was a hybrid of table and bed that looked incapable of doing the job of either. The padded examination table was bolted to a silver pillar and barely reached up to Twilight’s elbows – though the pedals around the base made it clear it was meant to change height as needed. Straps dangled down from the edges like the legs of some grotesque spider. She winced. The arachnid metaphors aren’t helping.

“Ah! Twilight, Applejack, so good to see you,” Doctor Rose said as he looked up from his clipboard. Two orderlies Twilight didn’t recognize circled around him and adjusted the table. Nurse Ratchet pushed a cart over to his side, the tray’s contents covered with a square of white fabric. Rose thanked Nurse Ratchet before stepping in Twilight’s direction. “Are you feeling well?”

Twilight watched Silas move over to stand beside the table, giving Twilight the same bored stare he always wore. “Yeah, I’m alright,” she said. “A little hungry, I guess. And a bit confused,” she added, eyeing the equipment.

Doctor Rose put on his most sympathetic smile. “I can understand that. Sorry for making you skip breakfast, but you can’t have anything in your stomach during an examination. It can affect the medication.”

“Medication? What is the examination, exactly?” asked Twilight, making no move to get any closer to the table. “And why would I need to be drugged before receiving it?”

“It’s nothing serious. I’ll be using magic and the electroencephalography machines here to get a reading on your brain’s activity, to compare to our pre-treatment baseline,” he said. “The medicine is to help you relax and keep you from getting anxious. We need you calm but awake so you can answer our questions.”

The color drained from Twilight’s face as she took a step backwards, the thoughts of being an obedient patient evaporating into subconscious mist. “You’re going to be looking around inside my head?” she asked.

“Oh sugarcube, don’t sound so worried. It’s nothing you haven’t gone through before,” Applejack stated, placing a hoof on Twilight’s back. “It’s no different than when a doctor scans your broken leg, or sprained ankle. Right, Doctor Rose?”

“Exactly,” he said, giving the other doctor a thankful nod. “I can’t use magic to, say, read your thoughts or anything like that. It’s just a simple procedure to look at how the electrical activity in your brain responds to stimulation while these machines record the data.” He tapped a hoof against one of the chrome monoliths that flanked the bed. Upon closer inspection, Twilight could make out the rolls of paper on their sides, resembling the sort of machines she herself had kept in the basement of the Ponyville library for her more involved scientific studies.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Twilight said, shifting her gaze between the two doctors. “I don’t like the idea of anypony digging around inside my skull without knowing exactly what they are doing, and I don’t want to go through with this. Please.”

Applejack coughed. “But Twi, he just said–”

“I don’t mean just this! I mean the whole treatment!” growled Twilight, jabbing an accusatory hoof in Doctor Rose’s direction as she looked into Applejack's eyes. “No pony has explained anything about what he did to me in the first place. And I’m not letting him dig around inside my head until I know the details.” Twilight held her ground as Silas and one of the nurses took a few steps towards her, keeping her firm gaze upon her friend.

Applejack blinked helplessly a few times before turning to Rose. “Doctor, why don’t we just explain it all to her now, so we don’t have to keep going through this every time?”

He sniffed, adjusting his glasses. “I really don’t think now is the time for this sort of thing. You remember how she can get once she thinks she knows more than her doctors. I don’t want to end up feeding her paranoia.”

“If you explain the treatment to me right now, I’ll let you do the examination with no fuss,” Twilight interjected before Applejack could reply, a little louder than she had intended. “I swear it. I’m just… feeling so confused right now. If you can just let me know what this secret treatment is, it will help me relax more than any anxiety medication could.” It was a bold faced lie, but she didn’t have any other option. The straps on the examination table were there for a reason, and the severe look in Silas’ eyes made it clear he wouldn’t have any qualms about using them. If the examination was a certainty, the least she could do was try to get something out of the mix.

Doctor Rose fixed Twilight with a long, measuring stare before nodding in reluctant acquiescence. “Alright. Since you’ve shown remarkable improvement in your symptoms lately, hopefully your tendency towards paranoia has been reduced as well.” His face hardened. “But remember, you gave your word to Doctor Applejack and I, and we’re going to hold you to it. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he muttered as he dropped his clipboard down onto the bed, his irritation vanishing behind his mask of vaguely benevolent detachment. He continued to stare at Twilight, like an artist examining a blank canvas, even after he began speaking. “The short explanation is that your treatment combines regular doses of medication designed to suppress the symptoms of your schizophrenia, like chlorpromazine, with a regimen of non-surgical treatments meant to help your mind process magical energy to stabilize your condition. Although we hope that it could cure you entirely, the primary goal is to manage the symptoms and reduce the dependency upon intensive care without having to resort to more… drastic and permanent measures.”

“Like what?” interrupted Twilight, glancing between Rose and Applejack. The two doctors shared an uncomfortable look.

“A keratotomy,” Nurse Ratchet answered flatly, sending a chill through the room.

Twilight blinked. “A what?” she whispered, hoping she had misheard the senior nurse.

“A keratotomy,” she repeated with the cold detachment of personal experience. “A dehorning. Surgical removal of a unicorn’s horn, along with the portion of the brain attached at the base, to control symptoms and make the afflicted easier to manage.”

“That’s barbaric!” burst Twilight, disbelief and horror dripping from her face. She turned to Applejack, a desperate glint in her eyes. “When you and Rarity were arguing about this, I thought you meant only in extreme cases! You can’t honestly think that cutting off a horn and lobotomizing unicorns is valid medicine!”

To her dismay, Applejack simply nodded. “It is terrible, but it’s also an accepted practice to most of the medical community. For some patients, it’s the only procedure that offers the… results doctors want.” A momentary burst of anger flashed across her face before she could collect herself. “You need to understand, Twilight, this is why the treatment is so important. We’re hoping that the patients under Doctor Rose’s care will show enough improvement that we can help end keratotomies. There is already a public movement to get it banned, but its hard to convince the average pony on the street when most doctors think it’s the best treatment available.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief, unable to find her voice. She felt ill, as if they had admitted to using the death penalty or eating meat. This isn’t Equestria. There is the proof. Princess Celestia would never allow this sort of horror to go on in her kingdom.

“And sadly, they’re right,” Doctor Rose added as he began to clean his spectacles with exaggerated care. “With a pegasus or an earth pony, there is a predictable response to medication and therapy. A consistent dose of a medication will generally create a consistent effect within a patient. Unicorns are not so easy. Magic creates new factors, new risks, that make proper and consistent treatment difficult to achieve.” He lifted his head, giving Twilight’s horn a pointed stare. “It’s also why unicorns like yourself have to wear limiters: to reduce the amount of arcane energy reaching your brain so we can keep things stable.”

“I thought that was because you were afraid that if I didn’t have it on, I would attack somepony and teleport my way out of here,” she snapped with a bitter sneer, her anger slipping loose as she struggled to recover her composure. “Or because I’d just fry my mind if I even tried to use magic, since I’ve obviously never been trained how to cast spells.”

“That is only part of it. You don’t put a cast on a broken leg just to keep a pony from bending it whenever they want. It’s to make sure it stays perfectly straight at all times so it can heal properly. If we took off your limiter, your symptoms would get worse, even if you never even tried to cast a spell. The mere access to magical energy has a deleterious effect upon any treatment.” Doctor Rose sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he returned his glasses to their perch, his deep blue eyes regarded her with soft concern. “Which is also why dehorning has been an accepted practice for so long. It’s a simple solution to a complex problem: if access to the arcane causes problems, then remove the access.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence after Rose finished speaking, the room’s atmosphere oppressive and heavy. But as the shock faded from Twilight, it was replaced by a growing desire to hear more. The study of magic in all its forms was her true passion in life, and hearing theories about the arcane as they related to mental illnesses was undeniably fascinating. Even knowing they were probably as wrong as the world she was trapped in didn’t make a part of her eager to hear more.

In contrast to Twilight’s eagerness, Applejack’s expression was grim and somber, her eyes regarding Twilight in the same manner one would a friend who had just learned their grandmother had passed away.

Twilight cleared her throat, the noise breaking the silence like a thunderclap on a cloudless day. “So, how does your treatment actually overcome the danger posed by magic?” she asked Rose with even poise.

Instead of answering, he turned to Applejack. “How much time do we have?”

She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got plenty of time. You don’t see Wispwillow till after lunch, and the Canterlot Medical Board aren’t going to be here till three or four at the earliest. We can afford to answer a few questions.” Applejack gave Twilight a friendly grin. “Especially if it helps her trust us.”

He affixed Twilight with a hard stare. “Alright, but I’m going to make this quick, since we don’t have all day.” Only after Twilight told him she understood did he continue. “Now, the treatment has two distinct parts. The first is a combination of standard neuroleptics meant to fight the symptoms of schizophrenia. The goal is to put the brain into a normal state, or a near-normal state, where the symptoms manifest more rarely or in a less pronounced manner. My research has shown that the brain needs to be ‘tricked’ into processing information correctly if any serious treatment is to last.”

As he spoke a hint of pride slipped into his voice, coloring his professional tone with an undercurrent of self-satisfaction. It was obvious he enjoyed hearing himself talk, and as he gestured with his hooves, Twilight could see that he was warming to his audience.

“The second part is the use of magically assisted electroshock therapy to, in the layman’s terms, ‘reset the brain’. Which is a gross simplification and terribly misleading, but the basic principle is there. Using my machines,” he patted one of the shining metal towers affectionately, “to help us analyze the data, it is easy to see how the brain operates differently when under heavy medication versus normally.”

Twilight’s curiosity shrank beneath another surge of fear and horror. “You’re… you’re going to run an electric shock through my brain?” she gasped, giving the table a look of dread.

Doctor Rose’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion. “No, no, that’s the treatment. This is a follow up examination, to make sure it worked. You see, my research has helped to explore why unicorns are so difficult to treat. Electroshock therapy had been used before, and had demonstrated some promising results, but as with most methods unicorns generally saw little to no long-term benefit.”

He began to pace back and forth like a politician delivering a speech, growing more confident, more driven, more focused as he spoke, naturally drawing the eyes of every pony in the room. “Medicine has known for decades that the problem was tied into a unicorn's horn and their access to conscious magic. They couldn’t find a reason for why unicorns were so difficult, but they knew they had a solution, and were content to keep the status quo.”

He halted, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a victor’s smile. “I, however, found the key. It’s how the magic flows through the mind that is the problem. The medication we gave patients would alter how the brain operated, but it couldn’t do anything about magical energy. While pills could help a patient bring order to their thoughts, the magic was still as disorganized as before and operated in the same way, whether the patient was on medication or not. The passive magic moving through the horn was reinforcing the abnormal brain activity and helping to reset any treatment, and because magic is controlled on a innate, fundamental level, it is a self-perpetuating cycle.”

Despite his reassurances and her reinvigorated curiosity, Twilight couldn’t help but give the examination bed a few worried glances. “So, how does your therapy help fix what even medical science doesn’t fully understand?” she managed to ask, keeping her voice steady. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve discovered the key. We’ve known that unicorns all draw in magic differently for centuries. It’s part of why some unicorns are more magically capable than others. Wasn’t it already common knowledge that any adverse affects to the brain, either at birth or acquired later, could have negative repercussions on how a unicorn handled magic?”

Doctor Rose deflated a little. “Well, yes, it was understood that the manner in which a unicorn used magic reflected their wider mental state, but that’s not the point.”

“It’s like how a pony with memory issues will have trouble completing full spells,” offered Applejack as if reciting from a text book. “Or a pony with anger management issues often uses magic in a very blunt, aggressive manner. Or–”

“Yes, yes, exactly,” Rose interrupted, his smile slipping even further. “Because of the fact that we control our magic with our mind consciously, our brains greatly affect how we manifest that control. Intelligence, personality, mental illness: they all play a part. And yes,” he added when Twilight opened her mouth, “all of this was already known. But that’s not what I was referring too. What I discovered was that even with medication altering how the brain operates or how a pony thinks, the magic still behaves the same within the pony. A pony with anger management issues might learn to control their anger and cast spells as calmly as any other unicorn would, but how they draw the magic through their horn would still be exactly the same as before they underwent therapy. How arcane energy moves through the nervous system doesn’t change. It’s a hardwired pattern.

“And that has been the problem for years,” he continued, stroking his chin. “The flow of arcane energy into the mind continues as if the mind were still schizophrenic, no matter the medication or therapy. It is disorganized, erratic, and reinforces the pattern of brain activity associated with the schizophrenia. If you were to somehow alter how a normal unicorn drew upon magic to match how a schizophrenic does, over time they would begin displaying symptoms of schizophrenia. As long as a unicorn is exposed to magic, even passively, traditional treatment cannot work because traditional treatment cannot alter how magic moves through a unicorn.”

He gestured wildly with a hoof, his teeth gleaming as he smiled at Twilight. “But I’ve found a cure, because I’ve discovered a means of altering how a unicorn takes in magic at the subconscious level. I can use medication, magic, and electroshock therapy to make a unicorn draw magic in like they would if they were not schizophrenic, then they will be as treatable as any other pony.” He took a few measured steps towards Twilight, holding his head up proudly. “If I can keep magic from making a patient’s disease worse, then we will have a true alternative to keratotomy. If my new therapy translates into real results, then we will have revolutionized the treatment of unicorns.”

Twilight glanced around the room as Rose’s last declaration rang in her ears, surprised to see Applejack bobbing her head in agreement. Even Nurse Ratchet had a faint smile on her face as she looked up at Doctor Rose with an expression like a disciple before a prophet. “Uh, that’s… a pretty noble goal,” Twilight admitted, feeding Rose’s confidence. Something teased the back of her mind like the first few notes of a song she couldn’t remember, but she kept her expression open and calm. “So, if that’s all behind me, then what’s this examination about?”

“I told you, this is all to simply to test how your treatment is holding up,” he said as he turned back to the table. “We’re going to give you diazepan to help you relax, and then run a small current through your horn to see how the energy travels through your mind, replicating how it would flow if you had your limiter removed.”

She raised a protective hoof to her horn. “I thought you said you weren’t going to shock me.”

“We’re not,” he replied. “We’re going to apply a very low level of electricity to your horn to see if it moves through your brain differently than it did before your treatment. The last test showed very promising results, but again, the problem with treating unicorns has been the inability to find a permanent or long-lasting treatment. We need to document your progress to prove that my program is working as planned, and to make sure you are still healthy.” Although he gave her his best attempt at a reassuring smile, Twilight could sense a hunger beneath his words, ambition burning in his eyes. “Now, I think I’ve explained everything adequately,” he said, patting the bed, “so it’s time for your examination.”

There were too many questions racing through Twilight’s mind. She’d finally gotten a full explanation for what he claimed her treatment was, but for every question answered another took its place. Before she could voice any of them, however, she felt Applejack give her shoulder a soft squeeze. “Don’t worry, sugarcube, I’ll be here with you the entire time. I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. We have to get this done, though, so just save any more questions for the next time, okay?”

She wanted to resist, to ask more questions and demand more answers, but it was obvious from the expressions on both doctors’ faces that they weren’t going to give in. “Okay,” Twilight sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit satisfied. After all, they could have just strapped me down and drugged me without explaining anything, she consoled herself as she approached the table and its arachnid straps.

After downing another small cup of pills provided by Nurse Ratchet, Twilight gingerly climbed up onto the padded table and rolled onto her back. She did her best to keep her discomfort from her face as they strapped her down, trying hard not to think about how she had awoken the first morning at Broadhoof. There was a pneumatic hiss as one of the staff worked the hoof-pedals, causing Twilight’s table to rise into the air in short, jerking bursts. She tried to turn to watch the sudden flurry of activity around her, but a pair of hooves on either side of her head kept her muzzle pointed skyward.

“You have to keep still now, darling. We’re attaching the electrodes,” Nurse Ratchet explained as she pulled Twilight’s mane back, leaving the sides of her head bare. Twilight blinked as she looked up at the inverted nurse, the gentleness in her voice a sharp contrast to the cold, brusque demeanor she normally portrayed.

There was a soft warmth on the side of her skull as Doctor Rose’s muzzle appeared above her, the gel on the electrodes he was applying just above room temperature. Even with her head held in place, Twilight could still see the twin sentinels that stood to either side of her. She could see reflections of herself in the polished steel panels, the other two Twilight’s looking decidedly uncomfortable strapped to their beds.

It took her a moment to work some moisture into her mouth. “You’re sure this isn’t another bit of electroshock therapy, right?” she asked, trying to make it sound like a joke. No one smiled.

“That’s correct,” Applejack said from somewhere off to Twilight’s right. “We’re gonna be passing a very tiny current through your horn, but it’s not going to be painful or nothin’. It’s just to let Doctor Rose and the machines here get a picture of how the energy is moving through your brain.”

“So, if you’re not gonna shock me, why the straps?”

“It’s for a few reasons,” Doctor Rose explained as he moved to her other side and began attaching the second set of electrodes. “We need to you remain still and relaxed. The diazepam will help with any anxiety, but it can have side effects. Some patients get the odd muscle spasm or suddenly want to move around, and we need to keep them in place.”

“Is dry mouth a side-effect?” she asked, running her tongue around her gums.

“Yes. That’s perfectly normal. Now just stay calm and let the medicine kick in.”

Once he was done with attaching the electrodes, Nurse Ratchet released her hold on Twilight’s head. It was a fleeting moment of freedom, however, as another strap was pulled taut over her forehead, once again rendering her entire body immobile. She wiggled regardless, imagining herself to be a mummy from ancient history.

Doctor Rose leaned over her, close enough that she could smell the stallion’s cologne. Twilight giggled, then wondered why that had been funny. Her thoughts felt soft, like melted butter. She could feel his hooves on her horn as he fiddled with the magical suppressor. When he finally pulled away, there was a new weight on the end of her horn. Something heavy gripped the tip like a metal parasite, a pair of wires running to some third machine somewhere behind her.

Unable to glimpse anything else, her thoughts began to meander as time dragged on. I wonder if they do dentistry here. I mean, they have to give the patients access to a dentist, right? But is it all done in the hospital, or do they have to send the patients to a dentist in town? No, that would be silly. They’ve got a lot of patients here, and some of them are more like prisoners. I mean, I can’t see them sending me out beyond these walls. They think I did something bad too. Was this place originally a prison? It seems to be as big as one. But prisons have their own dentists. Maybe Broadhoof is too old to have a dentist's office, if it was once a prison too. I brush my teeth regularly, though, so its not like I really need a dentist urgently. When was the last time I saw a dentist? When I get back, I’ll have to ask Spike to check my schedule to see when my last check-up was. I don’t want to get any cavities. Wait, when was Spike’s last trip to the dentist? I think Doctor Colgate forgave him for melting her tools that one time Princess Celestia’s letter arrived early. How often does Pinkie Pie go to the dentist? She has to go a lot, considering all the sugar she eats. It’s been a while since I had something yummy from Sugarcube Corner. When I...

Doctor Rose was standing above her again, a curious expression on his inverted and mustachioed visage. Twilight blinked her heavy eyelids. “Huh?”

“I asked how are you feeling, Twilight,” he said in a rich, creamy voice. An image of Pinkie Pie making something rich and creamy and really messy flashed through her mind. Twilight wanted to giggle again, but she felt tired, so all she managed was an open mouthed grin.

“I’m feeling alright, I guess,” she slurred. “You know, you have a really nice voice, doctor.”

“Thank you,” he replied absently as he fiddled with a couple of dials on the shiny boxes on either side of her head. “In a moment, Doctor Applejack is going start sending a faint current through your horn.”

Twilight blinked, her face slowly contorting into a look of worry. “Is it gonna hurt?” she asked, licking her lips.

“No, it won’t hurt. You’re just going to feel a faint tingling sensation at the base of your horn.”

“Oh.” Twilight tried to nod, but the strap on her head kept her firmly in place. “That’s fine, then.”

“While she is doing that, I’ll be using my magic to examine how the electricity moves as well,” he said as he stepped back out of sight. “If you feel a slight pressure inside your head, that’s to be expected. We’re gonna ask you a few questions during our exam, so just answer us the best you can, okay?”

“Okay,” Twilight replied after a slight pause. It was worrying, the idea of having another pony looking inside her head, even if it was just to see how the magic moves down through her horn. Still, like a storm on the horizon, she couldn’t bring herself to really get upset about it.

There was a faint electric hum from just behind her head. “Now Twi, you’re gonna feel a tingling sensation, but it’s perfectly normal,” Applejack said from the same direction as the hum. “So just relax and we’ll get this over with as soon as we can.”

The hum grew louder. It sounded angry but muffled, like an agitated beehive on the other side of a wall. “Alright Twi. On the count of three. One… two… three.”

Twilight didn’t feel any tingling; it felt like cold lightning was drilling down into her forehead, a sensation that almost demanded to be painful, but somehow wasn’t. Twilight winced anyway. “Mmnn… that doesn’t feel very good,” she mumbled, her vision growing blurry.

“Don’t worry, sugarplum, you’ll feel better in a moment,” Applejack stated, her warm voice sliding over Twilight’s discomfort like a soothing blanket.

“Okay,” Twilight said again, her voice soft and tainted by her nervous disquiet. “I trust you, Applejack.”

If Applejack replied to her, Twilight didn’t hear it. The angry buzzing had been joined by the click-clack of the towering machines to either side of Twilight as they began to print out long streams of stuttering paper like overactive seismographs. Jagged mountains of black ink covered the spools of paper, documenting something indecipherable about Twilight’s mind.

Doctor Rose’s face appeared in Twilight’s field of vision as if by magic, his horn aglow with his own spellcasting efforts. As he had warned, she could feel a slight pressure inside her mind, as if someone were gently prodding her brain with an invisible hoof, but that didn’t seem truly accurate. It was alien and hard to define; less a physical sensation than a mental one, more akin to the thought of a hoof pressing against her brain than anything.

She felt the pressure shift a little as he glanced down at her. Floating in front of him were a clipboard and pen, although they were turned so she couldn’t see what he was writing. It felt really unfair, and Twilight frowned.

“Now, can you tell me your name?”

It took her a few seconds to process the question. “Twilight Sparkle, of course,” she answered, furrowing her brow.

He scribbled on the paper without looking at her, his pen held in his magical grip. She felt the pressure inside her mind vanish before reappearing elsewhere, like he were moving a stethoscope from one spot to the next. “Where were you born?”

“Canterlot.”

Again, he jotted something down on the unseen paper before shifting his mental probe. “And how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

His pen froze in mid air as he glanced down at Twilight, his expression suddenly inscrutable. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Twilight repeated as forcefully as she could manage, barely slurring at all.

He continued to watch her through his gold spectacles. The pressure inside her head increased. “Are you sure?” he asked

“Yes, I’m sure!” she declared with a grimace, her anger snapping its jaws as it slipped out of its bonds. The click-clack of the printers increased in volume as she met his gaze, their thin mechanical arms flailing wildly. “I know how old I am!”

Doctor Rose sniffed slightly, and the pressure relaxed before switching to a new location. He turned to look off to his side. “Let’s move up to stage two testing,” he said in the direction she assumed Applejack was positioned. Her suspicion was confirmed when the power running down her horn increased. It felt like little burning ants were crawling around inside her head, yet the unnerving lack of pain continued.

The questions resumed, and soon the sensation passed to irrelevance. It was hard for Twilight to keep track of them all, the multitude of distractions and sensations leaving her disorganized and barely able to focus on each question. Sometimes the questions would come rapidly, sometimes Doctor Rose would take what felt like hours in between them. Most were mundane questions about her past, with the odd question about her current health thrown in.

He’s looking for something, she thought, remembering her last meeting with Rose. Once again she could hear the hunger in his tone. Even as muted and stoic as he tried to keep himself, she could catch glimpses of his inner turmoil behind his glasses whenever he asked her about her past. There was a hint of confusion there, a seed of worry that seemed to grow with every question.

Yet she couldn’t find the pattern in his responses. When she answered in the negative about whether or not she had seen Spike or received any letters from the princess, the muscles in his face relaxed in a sign of powerful relief. His blue eyes burned with confident validation. When she confirmed that she was indeed in a hospital, had been there for days, and hadn’t been hearing invisible voices talking about her, he seemed to be on the verge of cracking a smile.

The questions only halted when one of the machines let out a whine like an injured animal before seizing up. “Printer’s jammed again,” one of the nameless nurses declared over the grinding of gears and the gnashing of stalled motors. “I think we had another electrical short. It must have done something to the toner cartridge.”

Dropping his clipboard on a nearby tray with an annoyed huff, Doctor Rose moved over to examine the machine himself. He played with the opening to the device, trying to pry it open. The nurse’s diagnosis was confirmed when the printer hissed and spat a stream of dark ink out over his hooves. Doctor Rose swore. Wiping his hoof on his labcoat, he barked a call for a technician while a nurse removed the electrodes from the side of Twilight’s head. The sundered tower was pushed out of her view, the nurses moving with it. She could hear the others gather around the broken equipment, their suggestions and observations blending together into the general hum of background noise.

Forgotten, Twilight had precious little to entertain herself with. She moved her bored gaze around the room from her stationary position, the walls holding nothing but a few emotionless cabinets and a single grated air-vent. Her thoughts were hazy and indistinct, leaving it hard for her to focus her mind. Even when the technicians arrived, it was only a fleeting distraction. Her ears twitched and swiveled as she tried to paint an image of what was going on by sound alone, but the incoherent mess of muffled conversation and dismantled machinery left her none the wiser.

Instead, she focused on the gaps in the ceiling tiles, amusing herself by finding patterns in them as if they were clouds. Memories began to filter through her mind, bringing up images of sunny picnics and lazy afternoons spent with her friends staring up at the sky. Pinkie Pie was the most imaginative. She’d see those and find something insane that somehow made sense too. Applejack was always practical, Rarity just saw more inspiration for her dresses, and Fluttershy always saw little animals. And Rainbow Dash just saw more work, she thought with a chuckle. We have to have another picnic when I get back. That would be great.

She glanced away from memories, turning her head as far as the straps would allow to examine the working device she was still hooked up to. The sides of the machine were like silver mirrors, and she could make out her smiling reflection in the polished metal. It had a faint fun-house mirror effect, which only made her chuckle again as she scrunched up her face into the silliest expression she could think of, sticking out her tongue and waggling it through her teeth.

Her reflection continued to smile back.

A cold chill passed up her spine as they stared at one another, her reflection’s grin growing wider as horror spread over Twilight’s face.

“Twilight…”

She was trapped, defenseless, frozen still by that dreadful smile. Her reflection’s mouth spread apart into a grotesque measure of mocking contempt while Twilight whimpered in desperate impotency, beads of cold sweat dripping onto her pillow.

“Twilight?”

Doctor Rose’s voice broke the spell and she turned her gaze upwards to find him looking down at her, his inverted face wearing a look of concern. “Twilight, are you okay?” he asked.

Twilight licked her lips as she glanced at the machine again. Her reflection was there, strapped to the table and looking back at her with nervous eyes. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay,” she said, her voice as dry as her mouth.

He glanced over at the machine and frowned, his expression agitated. When he finally turned back to her he wore a strained attempt at a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We got most of the data we needed. This way, we can compare your progress.”

Watching her reflection carefully, it took Twilight a few heartbeats before she registered what he was talking about. “Oh! Uh, that’s… good.” She pulled her eyes away from the mirrored surface. “So, are we done then?”

“Yes, we’re done for today,” he replied as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to take a few hours to fix the other electroencephalograph. They’re wonderful machines, but… quite temperamental. New technology and all that. It doesn’t help that we’ve been having electrical issues all week thanks to the construction going on.” He returned his glasses to their usual spot. “Still, I’m quite pleased with today’s progress,” Rose added as he began detaching the electrodes. “We had to end early, but only by about fifteen minutes, which is not bad. You did well today.”

Twilight blinked. “You're… welcome?” She replied, her thoughts still muddled and foggy. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against her pillow, leaving the doctor to his work. Even with the assistance of the nurses it took them some time to undo the rest of the straps, which she spent furiously not thinking about her twisted reflection.

It was Applejack who helped her up onto her hooves, supporting Twilight as if she were a drunk that had fallen off the wagon. Twilight might have been offended if she didn’t fear her legs giving out beneath her. Fighting back the wave of dizziness as she was partially dragged across the tiled floor, she managed to find Applejack’s eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Applejack.”

“Think nothing of it, sugarcube,” replied Applejack as she braced Twilight’s uncoordinated body, helping her to sit down in a nearby chair. “You did well today.”

Twilight waved a hoof in front of her own face a few times, giggling at the way it moved. She then switched to the other hoof for a few moments before looking back at Applejack. “I feel funny,” she stated with a child’s seriousness.

“That’s the medication wearin’ off. You’ll feel right as rain in a minute. Now, I want you to just sit here until I come to get you.”

“Okay.”

Twilight watched Applejack trot over to Doctor Rose and Nurse Ratchet before returning her attention to her forelegs. She giggled as she waved one, then the other. It’s like my arms are in molasses! She knew it was silly and foalish of her to be so enthralled, but it really did feel like her whole body was stuck in an invisible layer of molasses, the sense of movement not syncing up with her other senses.

Over time even that wondrous sensation grew stale, and Twilight soon found herself glancing around the room as boredom once again settled over her.

There were a group of new ponies at the far side of the room, their tool belts and stained work clothes a sharp contrast to the clinical staff’s crisp uniforms. They stood around the carcass of a slain metalic beast, the circuits and wires of the broken device pouring out from the removed panels like electronic viscera. She watched them work with a morbid curiosity, but this too became less compelling with time.

It didn’t help that she felt a pressure behind her horn like an impending migraine that just couldn’t get started. “Applejack, could I get something for my headache?” she whined as she rubbed her forehead even harder, the sensation exceedingly uncomfortable without passing the threshold into outright pain.

“What do you mean it’s no cause for alarm?”

Twilight glanced up at her friend’s sharp voice. Although she had her back to Twilight, it was clear from Applejack’s stance and the quick flicks of her tail that she was far from pleased.

“If memory issues and continuing delusions aren’t cause for alarm, then please tell me what is,” Applejack said, a slight tremble in her voice marking her efforts to keep her tone as polite as possible.

The target of her displeasure, Doctor Rose, looked taken aback. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be so quick to look for flaws this early in her treatment,” he said defensively. “The readouts show that her mind is processing energy in a much more coherent manner. She’s become more social, more capable of proper emotional response, and – most importantly – she’s stopped hallucinating. Honestly, how can you be anything but thrilled at our progress?”

“But what about her memories?” Applejack snapped.

He sighed. “As I’ve said, those should come back–”

“Yeah, they should come back,” she interrupted, “but they show no signs of comin’ back at all so far. Her delusions are all she remembers!”

“We both know that there were likely to be some issues with memories. Temporary amnesia and confusion about what was real is very common with these procedures. We’ve seen it in nearly every patient so far. But it is temporary,” he said as he lifted his head a little higher. “We have to give Twilight time, that’s all.”

“I’m just worried about her. Her and the other patients. This whole business with the delusions and amnesia, it’s just nothin’ like was predicted.” Applejack ran a hoof through her mane as she let out a long, anxious sigh. “But you’re right, it’s still too soon to tell. So, what did your scans show?”

“I’ll get you a copy of my report by tomorrow, after I go over all the data.” He glanced over at the streamers of paper he had salvaged from the machine the technicians had eviscerated. Nurse Ratchet was helping another nurse to roll them up into tight scrolls before loading them into a set of drab saddlebags. “Initial impressions are good, though. I think the treatment has worked better than we ever could have hoped for.”

Applejack waited expectantly. One of her ears twitched. “That’s it? That’s all you can tell me?”

“Describing to an earth pony what I read and feel with my magic is quite difficult to do” he said, a hint of steel entering his gaze. “It’s a very complex subject, and takes time to put it into words that non-unicorns can comprehend.”

“Horse apples!” she growled, stamping a hoof down with a soft crack. “I’m not askin’ for the sales pitch, Rose. I just want to give my patient the best care possible, and I can’t do that if you’re gonna just treat me like one of the orderlies. I’m well versed in the mechanics of arcane control in unicorns, and you know it. Just cause I grew up on a farm and don’t have no horn doesn’t mean I’m a moron!”

“Doctor Applejack, you forget yourself!” he hissed. He pressed his muzzle in close to Applejack’s, matching her scowl with one of his own. “Don’t forget that I offered you a chance to work here with me, when there wasn’t a hospital in Equestria that wanted another earth pony on its staff. I saw promise in you and went out on a limb, putting my reputation on the line by hiring you. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

Applejack’s ears flattened against her scalp. “I’m… I’m sorry, doctor,” she said as she glanced away, rubbing her foreleg awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. That was uncalled for.”

He pulled back, lifting his snout into the air. “Yes, it was.” His expression softened. “Look, Applejack, I know it can be hard for you. You’re dealing with issues I have never had to deal with. But don’t mistake my methods for disrespect. There’s a reason I wanted you to work with me on this treatment, why I wanted you as part of my staff. You’re the hardest working doctor I know, and as dedicated to your patients as anypony I’ve ever met. This is a chance for both of us to leave a mark on the medical field. When my treatment is demonstrated to have the results we’ve seen so far, it’s going to be with an earth pony doctor playing an indispensable role in its success. That is something you have to remember.”

Applejack nodded and offered another apology. Twilight watched him place a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder as he spoke, his face radiating sincerity and concern. He spoke to her of duty, of opportunity, of a means to fight the bias in the system by proving generations of intolerance wrong.

He’s lying.

The thought came from nowhere, formed whole and intact from the void of nothingness like it were a creation myth of old. Like any divine revelation, there was a sense of power and gravitas behind it that banished the fog shrouding her mind, rendering her instantly sober and alert.

Twilight blinked, staring at Doctor Rose as he spoon-fed Applejack more generic reassurances, his words draining the shame from Applejack’s body language. His normal mask of paternal care and wisdom was firmly in place, and Applejack wasn’t questioning it. It was an expression she was all too familiar with.

He’s talking down to her, treating her like she’s a patient. Twilight glanced between the two doctors, watching as they said their goodbyes. Applejack turned back to Twilight, leaving Doctor Rose and Nurse Ratchet to gather up the rest of the data. Twilight’s eyes wandered over Applejack’s face. He’s misleading her, distracting her, and manipulating her. How can she not see it?

“Feeling any better now, Twilight?” asked Applejack as she drew closer, nothing of her earlier altercation showing on her face. “We can head on down to the cafeteria as soon as you’re feeling up to the walk. I bet you’re just dyin’ to get some grub. I know I am.”

Twilight rotated her head to watch Rose stride out of the room. Just behind him were Nurse Ratchet and Silas, the latter wearing saddlebags filled with rolls of printouts. Applejack followed Twilight’s gaze, catching sight of the three ponies as they passed through the bulky door.

“He’s not telling you everything, Applejack.”

“What?” asked Applejack, taken aback by the sudden comment. “Who is?”

“Doctor Rose. He’s hiding something,” Twilight said, nodding in the direction of the departed ponies. “I could hear it in his voice when he was talking to you. I could see it in his face.”

Applejack blushed. “Ah. You, uh, heard that, did you? Well, it’s nothin’ for you to be concerned about,” she said. “The good news is that your treatment looks like it’s doing great.”

“Why do you believe him?” pressed Twilight as she turned to her friend. “He’s hiding something, it’s obvious. And he talks down to you! The Applejack I know wouldn’t let somepony treat her like an inferior.”

“Hey now, I don’t wanna to hear you bad-mouthin’ Doctor Rose!” Applejack interjected. “We have our disagreements from time to time, but I respect the stallion immensely. He’s forward thinkin’, progressive, and just wants what’s best for you and other ponies like you.”

“But he’s not telling you the whole truth!” Twilight said. She jabbed a hoof at the door Rose had passed through moments prior. “He’s keeping something from you! It’s not that hard to describe magic to a non-unicorn, and he didn’t even let you look at the data before he and his cronies scooped it up and carted it off. They’re probably doctoring the evidence now! Changing data and, and changing stuff!”

Applejack chuckled. “That right there is the medication talkin’.”

Twilight groaned in frustration. “That has nothing to do–”

She halted Twilight’s protest with a raised hoof. “Look, do you trust me, Twilight?”

“Yes, but–”

“If you trust me,” she continued, “then you’ll trust my word on a stallion I’ve worked with for years. He ain’t perfect, but he’s a good pony and a good doctor.”

Twilight pawed at the floor in frustration. “But he’s lying about something,” she whined. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Look, why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get some food, Twi? I’m certain a little exercise and a full tummy will make you feel better.” Applejack’s grin mirrored Rose’s, landing somewhere between sincere and condescending.

A loud growl from Twilight’s stomach interrupted her carefully planned retort, coloring Twilight’s cheeks red as Applejack bit back her laughter. Twilight satisfied herself with a sharp harumph of dissatisfaction. “Fine. But you and I both know that he’s not telling you everything.” Sliding out of her chair, Twilight steadied herself against Applejack. Once she was certain she wasn’t about to faceplant into the tiles she returned her attention to her friend. “Deep down, you know I’m right.”

Before Applejack could offer a counter, Twilight carefully set off towards the door on her own. She was groggy, annoyed, and a little bit dizzy, but she was determined not to look weak. She wanted Applejack to see the confidence in her trot, the resolve in her spine. It would take time, but she would convince Applejack that there was something else going on at Broadhoof, something she couldn’t keep herself blind to forever.

Still, despite her frustration with her friend’s stubborn ignorance, there was one thing Applejack had said that Twilight agreed with to the core of her being, and the certainty of that fact helped drive her onward even when her legs threatened to give way.

Lunch sounded really, really good.


“So your brother wrote you and said he’s gonna come by next week?”

Twilight nodded with the absentminded ease of someone basking in the warm embrace of a full stomach. Even an bland institutional salad was a banquet when hungry enough. “Yeah. Next Monday.”

“Well, that sure will be nice,” said Applejack as they moved together at a languid pace, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the mesh-covered windows along the wall, illuminating the specs of dust that drifted along in the hospital’s artificial breeze.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Twilight said with another nod. The soft ache at the base of her horn was reluctantly melting away now that she had something in her stomach besides water and medicine, and it was a blessed relief. When Applejack had offered her some painkillers, Twilight had been sorely tempted. After the anxiety medication had worn off, Twilight had felt every inch of the aches, pains, and gnawing hunger that her morning ordeal had left her with.

Just obtaining a meal had been its own ordeal. Those lunch-mares really hate doing anything early, she thought with a lazy smirk. It had taken Applejack leading one of the sullen mares aside and having a quiet conversation with her before they had so much as given either of them an apple to munch on.

Scarfing down their meals in the empty cafeteria and ignoring the glares the lunch-mares launched in their direction, Twilight and Applejack had finished in record time. Twilight had wanted to continue her earlier point, to try and make Applejack see that Doctor Rose was not being forthright with her, but the need to get something into her stomach before she either collapsed or vomited had dominated her focus throughout their short stay in the cafeteria. After cleaning their plates and dropping their trays off in the return slot, the pair had exited without a backwards glance. And promptly had no place to go.

Broadhoof was a kingdom where the timetable was monarch and the clock reigned supreme. Every patient’s activities were planned out in advance, their day drawn and quartered into neat blocks meant to provide stability and order. It was a benevolent dictatorship, an iron hoof in a velvet sock, forcing ponies to do what it determined was in their best interests. It was a regimented world unto itself, where all were subject to the whims of the all-mighty schedule.

Finding oneself outside the schedule was like being in limbo. Lunch itself didn’t start for another half-hour, and Twilight couldn’t take her place in her normal group therapy session without causing undue fuss and confusion that would only muddy the clear commands of the inviolate planner. The lunch-mares had demonstrated how the staff reacted to unplanned changes in their clockwork lives.

They were locked out of the schedule until the lunch period was over, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Giddy with relief at having escaped the irritated glare of the lunch-mares and enjoying their un-planned meal, they had chosen the only activity they could engage in until the schedule said they could return: walking.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” Twilight repeated as she shuffled along. The warmth of her mentor’s sun was pure joy after spending so long in the incandescent bowels of the hospital. Even the thought of a nap, something she normally saw as lost productivity, was not disagreeable to her. “I could really do with a friendly face.”

“You don’t think I have a friendly face? Are you callin’ me ugly?” asked Applejack with mock indignation, striking a pose that would have satisfied an opera diva’s need for the needlessly dramatic.

Twilight tapped a hoof against her chin as she judged Applejack’s muzzle carefully. “Well, now that you mention it…” considered Twilight, earning herself a playful jab in the side. She laughed. “But seriously, it will be good to see Shining. Even as… strange as things are, it will be good to have him around for a while.”

Applejack’s grin shifted as something warm and honest filled her eyes. “Family is important, Twilight. No matter how far you travel or whatever happens in your life, your family is gonna be there for you. Shining is a fine stallion, and I know he’ll be plum thrilled to spend some time with you.”

As they rounded a the corner at the end of the hall, Twilight turned to look at Applejack in surprise, then amusement. “You think my brother is a ‘fine stallion’?”

Fire blossomed on Applejack’s cheeks as she glanced away. “What I meant was…” Applejack’s words died on her tongue as she locked up.

“Oh, cat got your tongue?” Twilight teased, giggling like a school mare. “What, are you going to tell me you have a crush on my brother? Hmm?”

“Twi. Stop.”

The quiet and somber command was a mortal blow to their cheerful banter, leaving Twilight startled by the sudden shift in tone. Applejack’s smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of cold marble. Twilight followed the direction of her gaze down the hallway, her eyes settling on a familiar unicorn pushing a wheelchair. “Is that Rarity?”

Applejack nodded.

With her back to them, it was clear Rarity hadn’t noticed the newcomers. Pushing the wheelchair along at a sedate pace, the gentle coo of Rarity’s conversation with whichever one of her patients she was pushing echoed softly down the hallway. A confused grin spread over Twilight’s face. “Well, why don’t we go say–”

She was halted by a firm hoof on her chest before she could take a step. Applejack just shook her head.

“What? Why can’t we go talk to her and her patient?” Twilight asked, her confusion underscored by a hint of irritation. It was a perfect opportunity to work on her friend outside of their formal pre-planned meetings, and she didn’t want to waste it.

Applejack shook her head again. “No.” She pointed to another intersection between them and Rarity. “We’ll just take a detour and leave them be.”

The grave look in Applejack’s eyes deflated Twilight’s protests before she could even voice them. “Fine,” she sighed in defeat. Without a word, Applejack moved forward, Twilight following reluctantly in her wake.

The rows of windows allowed in a steady stream of golden sunshine that washed everything in an inviting yellow hue. With the patients in their scheduled locations and no other ponies around, it felt like they were in a pocket of serene calm, the only noise Rarity’s soft voice. Her words gained clarity as they drew closer. Straining her ears, Twilight deliberately slowed her gait to a mere crawl.

“... say something to those blockheads in Canterlot about our budget for this year, so hopefully we’ll be able to hire some new staff for the office. It is atrocious just how backed up we are! I swear, those bureaucrats and penny-pinchers just don’t understand how much effort is required in this job,” said Rarity as she pushed the wheelchair along, her tone as light and airy as if she were sharing gossip at the local teahouse.

Dragging her heels, Twilight ignored Applejack’s silent gestures to hurry up from the side hall.

“But really,” Rarity continued as she glanced out the windows, “that’s not important right now. I shouldn’t be telling you about my problems, not on a day this beautiful.” She turned the wheelchair towards the outside world, bathing the occupant in the warm rays of light.

An earth pony filly with a clean white coat and a shaved mane reclined in the padded seat. A stuffed bear sat in her lap, resting atop limp hooves, as she stared at the windows with an unfocused gaze.

Twilight narrowed her eyes, ignoring a soft hiss from Applejack to hurry up. She’d seen that foal before. She knew it. It was a certainty, a fact, stronger than anything she felt when she thought she recognized passing faces from Ponyville. Like a stubborn pet the filly’s name was sitting there, just out of reach but refusing to come any closer.

The filly continued to stare ahead blankly, a thin strand of drool collecting at the corner of her lip while Rarity rubbed her shaven scalp. “Doesn’t it look absolutely gorgeous outside? I wish I could just sit here forever,” Rarity declared before looking down at the filly. She chuckled, levitating a silk handkerchief from one of her pockets. “Oopsie. Look’s like you’ve made a little mess again. Here, let me get that, darling,” Rarity said lightly as she bent down and dabbed at the corner’s of the young patient’s mouth.

The filly shifted in her seat and gurgled something as Rarity wiped up the escaped drool. She lifted a weak hoof in protest before it fell back to her side, knocking the teddy bear askew.

“Now, now, there’s no need to be difficult. You’re just a little messy,” Rarity tutted as she finished cleaning the filly’s muzzle. Only after Rarity pulled the handkerchief away did the foal stopped fidgeting and resume her impassive vigil. “There. All better!”

The soft echo of her declaration was the only response. The filly continued to stare right through Rarity as if she weren’t there. Rarity’s expression hardened as a trembling hoof caressed the filly’s bare head, passing over the faded pink ridges of old scar tissue along her forehead.

Rarity forced a smile onto her face. “You’re still so beautiful,” she said in close approximation of happiness. “Such a beautiful mare you’re becoming. And as soon as your mane grows back, I’ll style it for you, just like we used to do back home.”

Twilight stopped dead, her breath freezing in her lungs, as the last piece dropped into place. Oh no…

The sunlight glinted in Rarity’s eyes as she brushed her hoof along the filly’s cheek. “Would you like that, Sweetie?”