The past week has been nothing but boring. The good ponies of Border Glades kept me tied to the bed the first two days in case I tried to hurt myself again. Explaining that I didn't mean it the last time and that I just messed up didn't help too much, considering my history of being sent here for setting myself on fire. However, on the third day a group of wardens accompanied by Chiseled Chin visited my infirmary room and stripped it clean of anything sharp or pokey. Most of the necessary medicinal machinery beepers and clickers were taken away when my checkup showed my condition as good enough. Now there is only one bed here, the blanket is from some sort of weird, firm cloth that is fastened to the bed so that I can't take it away even if I wanted.
After the two days I was unbound and allowed to walk around in the room where I can't really toy with anything, so I examined whatever I could. However, there's a limit to how many times one can observe a chair bolted to the floor before being done with it. I'm smarter now, though, because I learned that chairs and tables are basically the same - bent metal bars with screws inside them holding plastic covering together. I could now make one if I had the parts easily! The window is barred, which ruins a beautiful view of the forests surrounding this part of Canterlot mountain. Oh, I forgot to mention it - it's snowing right now! The gardens are completely covered in white aside from the paths cleared up by the wardens. There's a pegasus being pushed on a wheelchair with a blanket over him or her, can't tell from up here, and a cup of something doubtlessly hot held in hooves right now.
The thing is that I'm bored. I tried to disassemble the clock hanging above the door, but reaching up there was a chore already, and made a nurse really mad. You see, while all other furniture is screwed to the floor, the beds have little wheels that make them easy to move with sleeping or unconscious patients. I pushed it to the door, then bounced up and almost broke my legs. Heheh, I forgot to lock the wheels first and it slid away after I jumped up. Luckily, I only got a bruise from that mistake and discovered the little metal clamps preventing the wheels from moving. After jumping high enough, I took the clock down from the nail it was hanging on. Unfortunately, without a screwdriver my effort was in vain. After that, I couldn't put the clock back because the hole in the covering where the nail should go was too small for me to aim for while bouncing up and down. As I said, the nurse to whom I returned the clock was pretty shocked.
On the other hoof, after that much exhausting activity I was diagnosed with almost complete physical fine-ness. There was a lot more checking up on me, needles and stuff, but in the end they said I was physically okay. I was still supposed to stay here, though. They said it was for observation because of my unnaturally quick recovery. Speaking of recovery, I should be let out today. Doctor Clear Insight is supposed to come this evening to see if I can be trusted to go back to my room.
I wonder if I am, sometimes. After doctor Insight told me that Stitches didn't really talk but instead some part of me tried to hurt me, I didn't know what to believe. I mean, it is my head, right? There is just me there. Why would me not like me? Did I do something bad for which me wants to punish me? Does it have anything to do with me not remembering anything before the day I woke up in an alley? Did I commit a crime? No, that can't be. I found a thrown away newspaper each day to use as isolation in my box and then later in the barracks, and there was nothing even remotely connected to me. Is doctor Insight wrong? But he's a professional, he must know what he's talking about.
Oh well, I am the dummy here, so just thinking about it isn't going to solve anything. I wish I had something more to do than lie here or walk around the room for today. The today's newspaper isn't here yet, a nurse usually brings one in the afternoon. I suppose I could listen to the radio a bit. I tried to disassemble it as well, but ran into the same problem as with the clock. Without a screwdriver I'm out of luck.
"I like big plots and I cannot lie. Yo other brothas can't deny-" the reproductor starts proclaiming happily.
Turning the knob, I tune into a talk radio station I discovered early into my stay here. I quickly found out that those stations which call themselves popular music are something to avoid. I mean, mares are really nice and, I suppose, squishy when poked, but there's a limit to how many songs about jiggling rumps I can listen to in one day. Plus, some famous mare called Sapphire Shores reportedly switched partners four times in past week. She must have really bad luck with stallions and the reporters failed to talk about anything else.
No, I like those chatty stations where they talk about stuff happening all around the world. Oh, and the ones where they read books on air. Those two kinds are my absolute favourites. Since they didn't offer me any books here, I spent most of my time listening to the reading of 'Thine Magnus: The Golden Thorn'. I really enjoy comedy, probably because I don't get to laugh much on my own. Granted, I'm happy and lucky to be in the company of ponies much more accomplished than I can ever be who care about me, even if it is just their job, but I don't get to laugh with them.
Oooh, one final interesting thing while I'm checking the stations. For some reason this radio keeps tuning out every time it's turned off. One day it caught a strange station called the Enclave. Their announcer John Henry Eden sounded like a nice pony, he talked a lot about justice and patriotism. Or maybe he even wasn't a pony, probably someone from the east. Griffons have unusual names like that.
After short wiggling with the tuning knob, a voice of a calm radio host takes over instead of the distorted noises.
"-of the day concerns our new princess Luna. A report by Canterlot Mirror's correspondent Uncovered Conspiracy speaks about princess Luna being bedridden as just a guise for her relapse into Nightmare Moon state. Upon further questioning, the Nightguard commander and princess Luna's personal bodyguard Sharp Biscuit said," the voice changes into an official-sounding reassuring one, "The princess is only getting used to this new age. Don't forget that her last time interacting with ponies was a millenium ago, and times have changed considerably. Today's Equestria is a peaceful nation with warm diplomatic relations and under no direct threats. Day to day life is different as well. Advancements in technology, culture, and magic require the princess to learn of these changes, and the best way to do it is in private at first. Princess Luna will accompany princess Celestia to the Royal Canterlot Theater over next week to see a series of plays by Manespeare. If either of the sisters decide to allow an interview is only up to them," the voice changes back to the radio host, "Royal Guard captain Shining Armor confirmed the statement during a press conference yesterday. That's it for morning news. This has been your host Double Check, and I'll be back after a short word from our sponsors with Griffon Empire ambassador Rafahm Steelfeather addressing emperor Emhyr's statement regarding griffon-pony tension in the coastline Imperial settlements."
*Knock knock knock*
The knocker is a white unicorn nurse in a light pink suit levitating a tray.
"Hello, Greyscale. Lunchtime."
"Oh, alredee?" I blink, watching the mare drop the tray with a bowl and a spoon on the table.
"Yes. It's a griffon recipe repurposed for ponies. We're kind of testing it out. You're healthy enough so that if it's bad for you it doesn't actually harm a patient, but you're still in recovery so that if it really works it's going to help you a lot."
Well, no harm in trying. I mean, possibly small harm to me, but if it's really as healthy as she says then it's worth to test it. It's sort of unpleasant having somepony watch you eat, but in my case it's necessary.
I carefully take a spoonful and shove it in my mouth.
"Dis ees deleeshus!" I dig in with gusto. I put the spoon down and drink the bowl's contents, "Wot ees eet maid from?"
"Umm," the nurse hesitates, "It's chicken soup."
"Chikins ken kook?" I ask inbetween mouthfuls of vegetables. I had no idea. But since farmers get milk from cows who are sentient, why wouldn't chickens be useful for more than feathers, right? Hmm, I wonder how they hold the spoons and stuff. Maybe they just make the recipes up and then organize ponies who cook for them.
"Not by chickens," she chuckles, "Griffons make it from chickens."
My stomach revolves and I look at the remains in my bowl in horror. So much for that theory...
"Ai dun wanna hurt aneefink! Nor do Ai wont innosent aneemals hurt so Ai ken bee healthee faster."
"Oh no no no," the nurse waves her hooves defensively, "It's mostly vegetarian. Umm, do you know what tofu is?"
"Nou," I admit, still carefully observing the traitorously delicious bowl.
Fool me once, shame on you, bowl. Ehh, shame on me more like. A smart pony shouldn't get tricked by a container.
"Well, it is..." she pauses, "It's not meat but it adds the taste and some of its vitamins and minerals if properly made."
"So nou meet?"
"Look, griffons will be farming animals for meat no matter what. If we can put it to good use then so be it. I take it you liked the taste, though?"
I cautiously nod.
"No feeling sick?"
"Full end a bit sleepee. Were dere anee peels een eet?"
"No, it's just that good. I suggest you go to bed and let it work its magic."
"Okey, mem. Yor a nais ponee. Tank yoo. Noponee needs to waist taim wit mee end yoo ar steel heer even after Ai took dat klok."
She giggles, taking the tray and examining the room for I don't know what.
"Just doing my job, Greyscale. Everypony deserves to be happy for few moments."
With stomach full of delicious, albeit a little morally questionable, warmth my eyes close on their own and I drift off to sleep.