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Is it recording this time? It would be embarrassing to try to record this for a 3rd time. Celestia dammit, I miss the days of omega recorders. I never did quite get used to these pipbucks.
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I’m Dr. Stable Rate. Though I haven’t been a doctor in practice for many years. Almost 200 years to be exact.
You may remember Audio Log #002 from my finacé’s story. The one with one of the only patients notes I ever made on Screwloose’s case. Leaving that case–abandoned the love to–to what was done to her there–was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life. I have regretted it every day since. More so since hearing what happened to her at Ponyville Hospital after I left.
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Shoe–Brittleshine said I should tell my story between then and now, so I will.
After I quit Screwy’s case I tried to switch back to pediatrics as I said I was going to in the recording. I couldn’t, all residency courses had already began. The only course that allowed transfers was general surgery. As it turned out I was actually quite talented at performing operations. They used to joke I could keep anypony at a stable rate. By the time I finished my residency the war was already underway and there was a very great need for doctors–especially surgeons–whether it be on the battlefront or at home. Many doctors got picked up by the MoP.
I wasn’t so lucky. I was hired by Hightower Prison. At first it fine–Patch up some prisoners who got in a fight, perform an emergency appendectomy or coronary bypass–usual stuff. Then it got strange. Prisoners would come to me in a strange coma lacking their cutie mark. I ended up sending them to MoP hospitals to figure out what was triggering the strange occurrences and if they could be cured.
Then prisoners began to disappear during the night. I remember this one prisoner, Razor Wire. She was always getting in fights with other prisoners, but one day she was gone. The only excuse for her disappearance was a sudden transfer to another prison. I never believed it, but I never questioned it.
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I’m going to fast forward my story to the day the megaspells fell. Work at High Tower was very normal–aside from the strange cases.
The day was like any other: Normal. It was my day off. Some other doctor on staff was filling in as prison surgeon. It all happened so fast. Cloudsdale, Manehatten, Fillydalphia, Canterlot were all hit and the pegasi closed up the sky.
I never got around to getting a place in a stable. I was too busy, then it was too late–though based on stories I’ve heard about those places, I’m glad I didn’t.
So I wake up to the end of the world and I get a call from the hospital down the street from High Tower. They ask me if I’m stuck in High Tower. When I respond with confusion I’m told that the prison was hit, but the megaspell didn’t detonate–it was just giving off a lot of magical radiation. Then the prison went into a lock down.
I’m told that they are incredibly short staffed since many of the other doctors cowered off to the local stables and they have an influx of ponies in need of treatment. I’m a doctor–I swore an oath–and so I agreed to go in and help.
That is how I spent my first few weeks in the new wasteland. Irradiated, tired, and helping as many ponies as I could before they succumbed to radiation poisoning. I denied any and all Radaway and RadSafe to allow the refugees to have all they could. Unknowingly allowing my body to mutate into a ghoul–along with many of the other who saught refuge in the hospital. And when radiation now heals you, there is no need for surgeons.
I lived in the hospital–renamed Meatlocker at some point–for the next 200 years.
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I finally became a practicing doctor once more during the battle of Hoofington. Too many injured ponies were coming to us for the doctors who were on duty to deal with. So I once again stepped up–it was like riding a bicycle.
Right the wasteland might not be familiar with those. It is a two-wheeled petalled vehicle. Anyways that is irrelivent.
It was after that battle, that I found out about Recurrence and Brittleshine still being alive. So I dropped her a line. She–she never got back to me until just last month when Ditzy brought her my old recorder. I got her message about the same time I heard the recordings of my Screwy over the radio.
That about wraps up my life from then ‘til now.
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Screwy, if you do somehow hear this. Just know I never loved another mare after you. Once we find you, maybe we can finally get married.
I–I still have rings.
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