//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: Asylum // by Daemon of Decay //------------------------------// Asylum Chapter 6 “C’mon, wake up. Dammit, get up!” a voice called out from a great distance, the words reverberating within her mind like the percussive beating of an oversized drum. A pinprick of light burst into existence on the horizon. The light began to grow larger, bearing down on her like a train within a darkened tunnel. Twilight couldn’t look anywhere else, her head held immobile by some impossible force. She wanted to scream as a rushing sound filled her ears. The light grew exponentially as it bore down upon her. Twilight gasped and shot up right before the impact, her sudden movement causing the orderly that had been hovering over her to jerk back to avoid an accidental headbutting. “Gah!” he yelped as she glanced fearfully around the room. White tiles, harsh lighting, and the smell of disinfectant assaulted Twilight’s senses as she realized she was still in the bathroom. Her head throbbed in pain, her skull feeling like it was trapped in a vice and slowly being squeezed tighter. It was a headache as delivered by a hammer blow. Two hammer blows, she corrected, feeling the sharper stings that marked the contact points where her head had fought something solid and lost. Twilight tried to sit up further but was arrested by a firm hoof planted against her chest. “Dammit, stay still!” the orderly barked, his voice dragging her eyes back to him and the irritable scowl on his face. “Jeeze, this isn’t good, this isn’t good at all...” She felt a momentary thrill of fear at his words. Nopony wants to hear a hospital employee talking like that. Especially when they’re flat on their back with their head ringing like a bell that had been struck too hard. “What happened?” he finally asked as he leaned in closer to examine her forehead. “I...” Twilight began, blinking her eyes as she tried to remember herself. I pretended I needed to go to the restroom so I could try and get a hold of my emotions. Once inside I got into a guilt-fueled rant with my reflection. Then it mutated before my eyes and slammed my face into the mirror, causing me to fall over and hit my head on the tiles. Which knocked me unconscious. Again. And I’m absolutely not crazy. “I, uh... slipped.” The orderly’s eyelids lowered. “You slipped.” Twilight nodded, and immediately regretted it when the clamps on her head tightened a few degrees more. Her headache was going to be one for the history books. “Y-Yeah,” she said as she struggled to keep a grimace of pain off her face. “And all that shouting right before you ‘slipped’?” “I... thought I... I thought I saw a spider on my hoof. And I guess I kinda freaked out,” she lied, giving him her best attempt at a nervous grin. It was surprisingly difficult, considering how nervous she actually was. She couldn’t let him know what had really happened. She couldn’t let anyone know. “I’m sure.” Disbelief and annoyance fought for dominance on his face. “Can you stand up?” Twilight nodded again, careful to bob her head slowly. Thankfully, the headache didn’t get any worse. The secret seemed to be not moving too quickly. Simple. “I think so. I’ll need some help, though.” Sliding his forelegs beneath her the orderly slowly lifted her onto her front. “Something like this had to happen today,” he muttered to himself as he helped Twilight onto her hooves, his expression a deep scowl. “Ratchet is going to have my flank for this.” Although her legs felt weak, Twilight didn’t fear a sudden collapse. Her body seemed to be growing more accustomed to coming out of unconsciousness. How many did this make? Two? Three? She caught a glimpse of the mirror from the corner of her eye. A memory of a ghoulish smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, and Twilight shivered. At least this time it wasn’t my fault. “Are you alright? You look pale. You’re not gonna ‘slip’ again, are you?” “No... I think I’m good,” she said. “Stay there. I need to clean that blood off your face,” he told her, staring at her until she finally looked back to let him know that she understood. She wasn’t in much of a hurry to move. Standing still for a minute or two is just what she wanted. She watched the orderly as he turned to the sink, and it slowly dawned on her just how lucky she was. The pain in her head tried to offer a counter argument, but she persisted. She had avoided hitting her head on the sink when she went down. The tiled floor wasn’t a pillow, but at least she had managed to brace herself before the impact. If she had hit the sink, she would have been ‘lucky’ to only lose a few teeth. A small cut and a bad headache were blessings in comparison. Producing a cloth from one of his pockets – it seemed every employee had one of those – he held it in his mouth as he pushed down on one of the sink’s pedals, bathing it in cold water. Once he was finished he turned off the water and glanced up. The cloth fell from his slack jaw. “What happened to the mirror?” She felt a flicker of disbelief at how long it had taken him to notice the damage. It wasn’t subtle, after all. A spiderweb of fractured glass radiated out from the impact point, breaking up the reflection into a fragmented tableau showing dozens of miniature stallions between the cracks, each one as stunned as the last. Her ears flattened against her head as he turned back to glare at her. “I slipped!” she said defensively. “You slipped into the mirror? What, did you hurl yourself at the wall when you fell?” He groaned, rubbing his face with a hoof. “Oh jeeze, she is going to kill me! Seriously, why today? Why did you do this to me today?” He glared at Twilight as if accusing her of doing it on purpose before he fetched the cloth from the sink. Leaning forward he began to roughly clean the small traces of blood from her forehead. He continued to grumble indistinctly, his voice muted by the fabric in his mouth. “What do you mean?” she finally asked him after he was finished. “This... none of this was your fault.” “Oh, yeah, right,” he said sarcastically as he dropped the cloth into the sink and began scrubbing it firmly. “Ratchet is already on my flank for–” he paused for a moment. Without looking up he returned to his task. “What am I saying, I don’t need to tell you this. Besides, you’re right; I’m not at fault here. You say you slipped, and that's good enough for me. I’m gonna take you back to the doctors, and you can explain to them how you managed to break the mirror. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong this time.” After finishing his cleaning the orderly escorted Twilight from the bathroom. She spared a last glance into the broken glass, catching the sight of hundreds of miniature Twilights looking back at her with the same mask of neutrality she wore. The orderly flipped off the lights as he marched her out, and they all vanished into the darkness. “Just had to happen today,” the orderly grumbled as he led her down the hallway, his earlier apathy towards her abandoned in favor of smouldering animosity. Like before he didn’t offer any conversation, although his silence had been replaced with frequent asides to himself about how much trouble he was in, the unfairness of the universe, and how badly he was going to get it when Nurse Ratchet found out. Nurse Ratchet was a recurring topic in his personal woes. Despite speaking to nopony in particular, he did nothing to keep Twilight from hearing his long list of grievances against the head nurse. “That heartless witch, punishing hard-working ponies just because of an accident. She’s going to tear me a new one, I just know it. Why today? She’s going to have me on punishment detail for months – if I even keep my job. She doesn’t even know the meaning of the word compassion.” He puffed out his chest as he reached for the cafeteria door. “I swear, if she tries to pull that crap with me again, I’m going to tell her off for once. She deserves to be put in her place, the stupid b–” The doors to the cafeteria pulled away from his hoof to reveal Nurse Ratchet. He let out a strangled yelp as he jerked back, coughing as he desperately swallowed his unfinished insult. Twilight felt like she were watching a scene from a play, the timing so perfect as to make mere coincidence seem ludicrously improbable. There was a touch of the supernatural about her sudden appearance, as if the stallion had drawn the wrath of the gods of irony and comedic timing. The stallion scrambled backwards, giving ground as Nurse Ratchet strode out into the hallway, her assistant Silas a respectful step behind her. “N-Nurse Ratchet!” the orderly finally choked out, trying to hide his unease beneath a terribly fake smile. It made him look as guilty as a cat covered in feathers. “H-How are you d-doing this afternoon?” She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes regarding him like she would a patch of mud on her coat. “Blaze,” she said flatly, making no effort to return his greeting. Her gaze passed over the cringing stallion and found Twilight, her expression brightening into the familiar smile all the doctors and nurses seemed to wear. “Twilight! My, it’s good to see you up and about. I was quite worried about you, after your little fit in Doctor Rose’s office. Are you feeling better, sugar?” “Yes ma’am, I’m feeling much better,” she said with a weak smile, the reminder of the morning’s events killing what amusement she had taken from Blaze’s situation. “She just–” Blaze began but froze when Ratchet spun her head to face him, the false congeniality vanishing instantly. Her expression was cold granite, the lines of her frown chiseled into her face. He trembled despite being a head taller than the white and pink unicorn. “She just what?” she said, her professional tone not matching the contempt in her eyes. His mouth flapped open a few times. “Just... just... she just had a little accident in the bathroom.” Ratchet’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of an ‘accident’?” “She said she saw a spider and, uh, slipped in the bathroom. So she, ah, hit her head,” he gestured at the small cut on Twilight’s forehead, “on the mirror and b-broke it, and it knocked her out.” “And this ‘little accident’ happened when she was in your care?” Blaze gulped. “Y-Yes ma’am.” “I see.” Those two words were delivered so cooly that they could have meant anything at all. “Go tell the janitors that they have a mess to clean up.” The orderly gushed with acknowledgements as he backed away from her. He turned around with relief and hurried off, maintaining just enough self-control to keep from sprinting. Ratchet sniffed disdainfully as she watched him retreat to safety. She turned back to Twilight and her expression softened. Beneath it, though, Twilight could still sense some of that steely demeanor that had frightened a stallion almost twice her size. It was the same firm resolve she had seen that morning when she had touched the silencer on her horn. “Is what he said true, darling?” “Y-Yes,” Twilight answered. Despite the gentle look on the nurse’s face, she couldn’t keep from stammering slightly as she met her golden eyes. “Well then, stand still while I take a little look, alright sugar? I just want to make sure it’s nothing serious,” she said. She lifted up Twilight’s bangs, exposing the small cut on her forehead. “Well, this doesn’t look too bad, sweetie. Just stay still a little longer while I take care of this.” Twilight obeyed, her eyes crossing as she tried to watch the nurse apply some disinfectant, the liquid bringing with it a momentary sting as it sterilized the cut. The small bottle hovered within a pinkish aura. She glanced enviously at Ratchet’s horn as she returned the bottle to her pocket. “Ah, this should do it,” she said happily as she levitated a colored band-aid out of another pocket. Twilight ignored it, her eyes falling on the nurse’s pockets as she wondered just how much the other unicorn stored in there. There was a moment’s pressure on Twilight’s forehead. “Much better!” she said, giving Twilight a smile before turning to Silas. “It looks cute, don’t you think?” Cute? Twilight looked over at Silas as well. The dark stallion regarded her with the usual inscrutable expression, but she swore she saw the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at her forehead. “Yes’m,” he replied. “Cute.” I need to find a mirror. Twilight winced as soon as she registered the thought. A skeletal smile taunted her from the recesses of her mind, bringing with it a swarm of vicious questions. What had I seen in the mirror? Had it been real? An illusion? What caused me to argue with myself? Dwarfing them all was the one question that Twilight dread above all others. Am I really starting to lose it? Just giving voice to the thought was enough to make her sweat. She could remember her grotesque reflection tormenting her with her own fears, laughing through its oversized smile as it told her what she had been fighting so hard to deny. No. I’m not crazy. It was a simple declaration of fact; an absolute certainty in an uncertain world. But, something whispered back, what if you are wrong? Twilight buried it all even deeper, doing her best to keep the terrible memories and painful questions suppressed. She couldn’t deal with them now. Sure, it was just putting off the inevitable, but she didn’t have any alternatives. It wasn’t a logical or rational decision, but it was the only one Twilight could make. She just needed time to settle herself. She was hurt, had a pounding headache, and was still painfully hungry. They were pitiful excuses, but they were enough. What did Ratchet put on my cut? Is my bandage embarrassing? wondered Twilight, the shift in focus a painfully obvious attempt to distract herself from the darker thoughts that were clawing at her mind. She ignored them. The strain of maintaining her denial only made the throbbing in her head worse, but she welcomed it. The stilted thoughts and dull aches were all preferable to considering other matters. Nurse Ratchet thankfully resumed speaking, creating another welcome distraction from memories best forgotten. “Now Twilight, head injuries are never to be taken lightly. What I want you to do is go back inside and finish your dinner. You’re probably going to have a headache for a while, which is to be expected. But if it gets any worse, or if you start to get nauseous, or dizzy, or start feeling strange, please tell one of us right away, alright?” “Okay.” “Now, do you happen to remember what happened just before you slipped? Blaze said something about a spider, but I’d like to hear what you have to say.” Twilight nodded. “Uh, yeah. I thought I saw a spider on my leg and I... I got scared, and must have stepped in some of the water.” The nurse watched her as she repeated the lie. Small dots of sweat formed on her forehead as she tried to keep calm. It was difficult; it felt like the Nurse was seeing right through her deception. It couldn’t be helped – it was better that she suspected Twilight of hiding something than to know the truth. The truth? How could I tell her the truth? Part of Twilight wanted to return to what she had seen, but she desperately kept pushing it away. Every minute she gained without considering what had happened was a blessing. Twilight lowered her head, trying to mask her doubts with an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry about the mirror.” Nurse Ratchet smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Twilight. You’re a good girl, and it was just an accident. Now, what I’ll do is have someone come by your room later today before you go to bed, just to check in on you and make sure everything is fine. I think you’ll be okay, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Twilight nodded again, even as she tried to figure out if the nurse believed her story or not. Nothing in Ratchet’s expression offered an answer either way. And Silas? It was easier to guess the thoughts of a mountain. “Now, you were eating with Doctor Applejack, right?” asked Ratchet as she ushered Twilight back into the cafeteria, her smile shrinking a hair. “Yes ma’am, that's right.” “Well, I think I saw where she was sitting. Just follow me, darling, and I’ll walk you to your seat.” Twilight thanked her as Ratchet opened the door, but she paused at the threshold. She had only been gone a few minutes at the most, but the cafeteria was already packed. There had to be upwards of two hundred ponies inside. The nurses and orderlies were out in force, herding the patients from the kitchen to the tables, and trying their best to keep the patients seated during their meal. Despite the mass of bodies, there was a strange organization to be found, a suggestion of a plan in their movements. Groups filtered into the cafeteria one at a time like clockwork, a conductors schedule to get the most ponies fed in the least amount of time. Her analytical mind could see how the nurses and orderlies guided their charges along according to some well practiced timetable. Like ants hard at work, what might seem haphazard on the surface was actually organized chaos. But organized chaos was still chaos, a point made abundantly clear by the wall of sound that met her. Twilight considered the mob of ponies that filled the room. Being able to tell what they’re trying to do isn’t going to make getting to my seat any easier. Silas gave her a gentle nudge from behind, and Twilight hurried after Nurse Ratchet. Despite the morass of constantly shifting individuals, Twilight found herself able to move without running the risk of colliding with another pony. Ratchet was cutting through the crowd like an ice-breaker, and she followed gratefully in her wake. Her guide eventually stopped at a familiar table. Pinkie Pie was still huddled up against Applejack, but she was eating again, and seemed to be in no danger of crying. It was something, at least. “Hello, Doctor Applejack,” Nurse Ratchet said, her tone painfully stiff. “Nurse Ratchet,” Applejack nodded her greeting, matching the nurse’s tone almost perfectly. Her eyes, however, flashed with irritation. Applejack was doing her best to conceal it, but Twilight knew her friend too well to miss the annoyance she felt at the nurse’s presence. Plus, she was a terrible liar. Twilight glanced between the two coworkers, curious as to what might have created the animosity between the two ponies. Unfortunately, the time was far from ideal. And, if Twilight were honest with herself, she didn’t feel ready to start trying to get such personal information so soon. She lowered her gaze to Pinkie Pie, a spike of guilt jabbing into her heart. No, she would wait before she tried prying into the lives of her friends. Instead, she added it to the list of minor questions for the future. Ratchet shifted her gaze to the fifth pony, giving Pinkie Pie the same smile she had used on Twilight just seconds before. “And hello to you too, Pinkamena. Staying out of trouble, I hope?” Although she managed a weak grin in return, Twilight could see the slight apprehension in Pinkie’s eyes when she looked up at the head nurse. “Of course, Nurse Ratchet.” Pinkie Pie forced her smile a little wider. “Excellent,” said Ratchet happily. Her expression turned to stone once she turned back to the doctor. “Doctor Applejack, there was an incident in the bathroom, and Twilight here,” she gestured to her side, “slipped and hit her head. I’ve already bandaged her up, and I’ll assign someone to look in on her later.” Applejack nodded, about to speak when Nurse Ratchet cut her off. “She ended up breaking a mirror in her fall,” she added, an almost imperceptible emphasis landing on the word ‘mirror’. The doctor’s eyes flickered to Twilight for a moment. “Is that so,” she said evenly. It wasn’t a question. “Well, thanks for keepin’ me informed. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her, in case she hit her head harder than you think. Head injuries are never somethin’ to be taken lightly.” “My thoughts exactly.” She gave Twilight another fake smile. “Now, you be a good girl for Applejack. If you need something else, don’t be afraid to let us know. We want to make sure you stay nice and healthy, alright darling?” she said before turning away, not waiting for a response. Twilight’s eyes followed Ratchet and Silas as they left. Ponies parted before them despite the crowded conditions, giving the pair room to move unimpeded. None of the patients looked either of them in the face. Within a few heartbeats they had disappeared from sight. Twilight turned back to the table to find Applejack staring at her. “Uh, hey Applejack, hey Pinkie Pie,” she said meekly, averting her eyes. Pinkie continued to stare down at her soup and said nothing. “So, you slipped and hit your head,” Applejack stated, her jaw working as if she were physically chewing on the idea. She glanced up at the bandage just beneath Twilight’s horn. Twilight swore she saw a momentary flash of amusement in her eyes. “Yeah.” There was another pause. “Well then, go ahead and sit down, Twilight. You’ll want to rest a little to make sure nothin’ serious happened.” Twilight did as commanded, sliding into a spot on the bench. Her bowl of beet soup – now cold – sat where she had left it. “Yeah, Nurse Ratchet told me to talk to you if my headache gets worse, or of anything out of the ordinary happens.” “And has it?” “My headache hasn’t gotten worse,” she said, idly twirling her spoon around the entirely unappealing remains of her dinner. “As for anything strange happening? Well, this whole day has been strange and out of the ordinary, so I think I’ll just ignore that.” Applejack continued to look at Twilight. Instead of the reproach and anger she had expected, her friend wore a stern look compounded by faint worry. She said nothing as she continued to mull over her thoughts, the silence becoming a large wall between them. Eventually she rose from the table. “Twilight, stay here. I’m going to get you some fresh soup,” she said, pressing her lips together into a thin smile. “That... thanks,” she replied. Applejack’s grin rose a fraction of an inch as she picked up Twilight’s tray and walked off towards the kitchen. Twilight watched her go, focusing on the orange mare so she could prepare herself. She didn’t know if she was ready to look at her other friend. “Does your head hurt?” Pinkie Pie asked quietly, forcing the issue without looking up from her own bowl. Like Applejack, Pinkie’s face was free of resentment or blame. She just looked sad. Twilight felt that spike of guilt twist a little more at the sight of her friend looking so miserable. “Yeah, a little,” Twilight replied. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Twilight took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose. “No, Pinkie. I’m the one that is sorry,” she said, reaching out to take one of Pinkie Pie’s hooves in her own. She didn’t pull away from her touch, but her limb was limp in her grasp. “I brought up something I shouldn’t have. I was being so selfish and impatient that I... I should have known better. I’m sorry, Pinkie. I really am.” “It’s okay Twilight,” Pinkie said, a faint smile playing on her face as she continued to stare down at the table. She squeezed the unicorn’s hoof softly. “I... I sometimes let things bother me that shouldn’t. I have... there are things I don’t like to think about. Like, in my past. And... sometimes I hear things and I just, I dunno, I can’t help but think about what happened. You didn’t do anything wrong, Twilight. I try and do my best, but... I still have lots and lots of work to do.” “Oh Pinkie,” Twilight whispered. The sincerity in Pinkie Pie’s voice was enough to melt the last of her shame away, but in its place grew pity and sadness. A pony so filled with laughter and happiness should never be so distraught. “I’ve been so confused lately. So many things just don’t make sense. My whole life has been turned upside down, and it’s hard to hold onto what I know is real. But I’m always there for you, Pinkie. I told you, I wouldn’t be a rude jerk to my friends ever again. It was a Pinkie Promise, and... and I broke it. So I’ll just have to work twice as hard to make it up to you, okay?” Pinkie sniffled, lifting her head slightly. “Well... I guess,” she said as her slight grin swelled with life. “Although breaking a Pinkie Promise is a really really terrible thing to do. I mean, I don’t know if I can just forgive you so easily. That’s like, super important. You’re gonna have to make sure to do something reaaaaly extra special spectacular to make up for it.” “I’ll try and get you cupcakes.” “Deal!” Pinkie shouted as she lunged over the table and caught Twilight in a furious hug before she could escape. Twilight returned the embrace, the burst of movement drawing attention from a number of patients and staff. She blushed, doing her best to ignore the bemused stares. Evidently, they were used to Pinkie’s exuberance as well. “Uh, Pinkie, I think that’s enough hugging,” she said, gently trying to free herself from the earth pony’s firm grip. “There is no such thing!” “C’mon Pinkie, they’re starting to stare at us.” She nuzzled Twilight’s chest a little more firmly. “I don’t care.” “Pinkie, please... I love you too, but this is embarrassing.” “Oh, fine,” she allowed, releasing her grip around Twilight’s neck and returning to her seat across from the unicorn. Her bright blue eyes glittered with relief and happiness. “If it makes you feel better.” Her face took on a faux-serious expression. “But you still owe me. Next time we have playtime, I get all the hugs I want. And cupcakes! Understand?” Twilight chuckled. “Okay Pinkie. It’s a deal,” she said, straightening her mane with a hoof as she did her best to ignore the last few lingering stares. Her hoof passed over the bandage just beneath her horn. “Just, lets try to avoid making such a scene in the future. It’s embarrassing.” Pinkie Pie finally looked up. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets and she burst into a fit of raucous laughter. “What?” Twilight asked with bewilderment. She glanced behind herself, but there was nothing humorous there she could see. “Pinkie, what’s so funny?” Pinkie bit her lip, her forelegs wrapped around her chest as she tried to hold in her laughter. “I b-bet it wasn’t the hug they were looking at!” she snorted. Her eyes lifted up to Twilight’s forehead and she erupted with more loud guffaws, dangerously close to falling out of her seat. “What? Seriously, what’s so funny?” Twilight demanded, her cheeks warming again as other ponies began staring at the two of them again. The irritation of being left out of the joke began to seep into her tone. “Do I have something on my face?” “Yes! And it’s soooo cuuuuute!” Pinkie Pie shouted, pounding her hoof against the table. She looked to be on the verge of tears. “Wait – do you mean the bandage?” asked Twilight, crossing her eyes as she instinctively glanced upwards. “What’s so funny about it?” “Nothing!” Pinkie giggled, stuffing a hoof in her mouth to stifle her laughter as she pointedly avoided looking at Twilight’s forehead. “Nothing at all!” Twilight’s stern look was ruined by her flushed cheeks and the hoof she placed protectively over the bandage. “Pinkie...” “Oh, it’s not thaaat funny,” she finally admitted as she wiped a tear away. She coughed to mask another laugh. “Still, what is it?” “Oh, I don’t wanna ruin the surprise!” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. Twilight sighed. “This is part of my punishment for breaking a Pinkie Promise, isn’t it?” “Mayyyyybe...” “Thought so,” she grumbled, turning her attention to the rest of the cafeteria’s inhabitants. She rubbed the sore-spot on her forehead. I need a mirror. An image of her reflection leering back at her with a dead smile flashed through her mind, threatening to drown her in the ocean of doubts and questions she was doing her best to ignore. Twilight clamped down on the thought before it could escape, bottling everything up and sealing it away. She wasn’t going to think about it. She wasn’t ready to deal with what had happened. You’re afraid... The whisper was so faint as to be almost inaudible beneath the loud cacophony of the filled cafeteria. She had misheard a snippet of conversation, obviously. It was nothing but a figment of her imagination. Twilight shivered. Fighting to suppress her thoughts about what had occurred in the bathroom, Twilight stared purposefully out into the crowd as she focused her mind onto the many dozens of other ponies in the room. A few ponies from before remained: Carrot Top, Berry Punch, the mummy. Even Applejack could be glimpsed through the mass of bodies, standing by the kitchen queue chatting with another pony in a white lab coat. Most of the ponies were complete strangers, though. Twilight turned her head around, hoping and dreading the sight of more familiar faces in equal measure. It was hard to pick out individuals. The presence of so many ponies moving about made identification a true challenge. The nurses and orderlies were doing their best to keep patients seated once they got their food, but dinner was still just beginning. The long lines of patients being herded to the tables meant ponies flickered in and out of sight, a snapshot of a mane or face that disappeared in a heartbeat. Rainbow Dash. Twilight blinked, and she was gone. She startled her neighbors as she leapt to her hooves, standing on her seat as she furiously scanned the far side of the cafeteria. Twilight was only vaguely aware of Pinkie asking her something. She hadn’t imagined it. She had seen her friend. Hadn’t she? There! Her doubts vanished instantly as she glimpsed the prismatic mane through the swirl of bodies. It had to be her. It couldn’t be anypony else. It was another of her friends! Twilight couldn’t help but cheer, bouncing on her hooves like Pinkie had, causing the bench to shake and groan. Pinkie called out to her as the other ponies at the table shouted in annoyance, but Twilight didn’t listen to them either. This world’s versions of her friends had something connecting them back to the life she knew. My friends must be the key to defeating whatever caused all this. They are still connected to the ponies of my reality. “Get down!” The harsh command snapped Twilight out of her excited daze. She glanced down to find a pair of orderlies staring at her. “I said, get down,” the one on the left – a pegasus – repeated the order. They were trying to stop her from reaching her friend. The thought brought with it a surge of anger at their interference. Didn’t they know how important this was? She opened her mouth to tell them off for sticking their noses in another pony's business. “Twilight, please, get down,” Pinkie pleaded softly, casting a worried eye at the two orderlies. Twilight turned to look at her friend, ready to let her know she could handle the rude stallions. She froze. Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixated on her. Every pony in the surrounding area was staring directly at her. The unicorn played over the last few seconds in her mind, her anger melting away as she finally processed what she had been doing. Like an energetic foal who wasn’t going to go to bed quietly, she had been jumping up and down on her seat. Twilight blushed – again – and meekly dropped into her seat. “S-Sorry!” she stammered the apology, feeling mortified at her own behavior. “Just don’t let me catch you doing it again,” the orderly said stiffly, giving her one last glare before turning away. The rest of the onlookers followed their example, returning to their meals. A few ponies continued to stare, but after a few seconds without any more childish antics they gave up as well. Way to go, Twilight. What’s next, a good temper tantrum? Despite a strong desire to hide her blushing face behind her hooves, Twilight quickly returned to staring out into the crowd. Her embarrassment faded as her despair returned. She had acted like a foal and lost sight of where Dash had been headed. “Wow, Twilight. That was... strange.” Pinkie Pie stared at her, her tone light but her expression showing some of her earlier good cheer. “I mean, it was super funny too, but normally I’m the one that gets told off for being really happy and excited. And I have enough sense to not keep jumping on things when the orderlies tell me to stop.” Pinkie prodded her hard seat. “Besides, these benches aren’t good trampolines. They don’t have enough bounce in them.” “Pinkie... I saw Rainbow Dash,” Twilight whispered urgently as she kept her eyes on the crowd. “I saw her!” Her friend blinked. “Rai- Oh! Rainbow Dash!” she declared as recognition dawned on her face. Ignoring Twilight’s attempts to hush her she continued. “Oh, that's nifty! But, uh, what does that have to do with you jumping on the table?” “I didn’t mean to!” Twilight snapped. “I just... got excited, is all.” Pinkie waved a hoof at her. “Aww, that's fine! I get super excited alllll the time. That’s why I was telling you to get down, silly-billy. I know for a fact that the orderlies get really grumpy if you climb on the tables. And they get double grumpy if you jump on them!” Pinkie followed the general direction of Twilight’s gaze. “So, why are you so excited to see Rainbow Dash?” “I’m just excited to see another one of my friends, is all,” she answered, methodically scanning the room for another glimpse of Dash’s distinctive mane. “I didn’t know you two were that close, really.” Twilight slowly turned back to Pinkie. “What?” She shrugged. “I mean, I’m like good friends with almost every pony here, and you’re my super-duper bestest buddy of them all, but I didn’t know you two really knew each other that well. You never, like hang out. She’s always hanging out with that other pegasus.” Pinkie frowned. “Plus, Rainbow Dash can be kinda mean sometimes.” “Well, she does have an ego the size of Equestria, but I wouldn’t call her mean,” Twilight said. “A bit of a jerk, maybe. And she can be kinda careless. And lazy...” Twilight caught herself before she went further off topic. “But, what do you mean by saying Dash and I are not that close? Are you saying that in this world, we’re not friends?” Pinkie shrugged again. “I dunno, I just never really see you two hanging out like we do. Of course, that’s not too surprising, considering that we are like absolute bestest best friends. She’s just, you know, not that friendly.” “It doesn’t matter,” Twilight declared as she turned back to the crowd. “She’s the element of loyalty, and back in my world, she is my friend. She might be a bit different here, but she’s still the same Rainbow Dash deep down.” “Your world?” Pinkie’s pupils shrank away until they were tiny specks of color floating in seas of white. “Twilight... are you... an alien?” Twilight covered her face with a hoof and exhaled slowly. “No. I am not an alien,” she said dryly. Pinkie sighed in relief. “Whew! I was really worried there for a second. So Rainbow Dash is the only alien then.” “What? No. She isn’t an alien either.” “So, who is the alien then? If you’re from a different world did you, like, hitchhike to Equestria? Ooo! How did you manage that? Did you bring a towel? What’s your planet like?” “Pinkie! There are no aliens!” Twilight hissed, feeling her patience fading quickly. “But you said she was different back on your world, which means you’re not from this world.” Pinkie gasped. “Oh! If she is different on your world, then this Rainbow Dash must be like a pod pony imposter alien! And that means you,” she gestured at Twilight, “must be some sort of intergalactic police mare bounty hunter from space, trying to bring her to justice!” Twilight just stared at Pinkie for a few heartbeats, doing her best to ignore the throbbing in her head. Pinkie stared back expectantly. “No, I’m not.” Pinkie deflated like a punctured party balloon. She nibbled on her lip. “Ah!” she declared, but Twilight reached out and physically closed her friend’s mouth before she could voice another ludicrous theory. “No, I’m not that either,” she said, emphasizing her seriousness as best she could. She couldn’t handle more Pinkie Pie-brand crazy right then. “I’ll tell you what I meant later. Right now, I just need to find out where all my friends are, and Rainbow Dash is one of them. Understand?” Pinkie tried to answer normally despite Twilight’s hoof still keeping a tight grip on her muzzle, her words coming out as muted nonsense. Twilight felt the corner of her eye twitch with a nervous tic. “Just...” she hissed through her teeth, doing her best to keep from shouting. “Just nod your head if you understand me.” Pinkie bobbed her head up and down. Twilight kept her hoof wrapped around her mouth. “And if I let go, are you going to stop talking about aliens and help me find Rainbow Dash?” More unintelligible mumbling. “Pinkie, I can’t understand you if you...” she tried to explain, but the pink mare continued to speak emphatically, gesturing along with her garbled speech. “Just nod yes!” she snapped, louder than she had intended. Pinkie stopped talking and complied. “There. Now, what was so important?” Twilight asked irritably as she released her grip on Pinkie’s mouth. Pinkie opened and closed her jaw a few times, stretching it out as she gave Twilight a mildly cross look. “Well, what I was trying to tell you, before you got all bossy-wossy, is that Rainbow Dash is right over there. But that kinda hurt, you big meanie, and I don’t know if I want to tell you that any more,” she pouted. “I’m sorry Pinkie, but–” Twilight halted as she finally processed Pinkie’s words. She jerked her head around, her apology forgotten. There she was: Rainbow Dash. It was impossible to miss her friend, the pegasus a unique burst of color that stood out wherever she went. It was quite fortunate that she took great pleasure in being able to draw the eye so easily. Twilight watched as her friend exited the food queue with a plastic tray clutched in her mouth. “Rainbow Dash!” she shouted, waving a hoof wildly as she leapt out of her seat – remembering to keep from standing on the bench to avoid any more confrontations with the orderlies. She repeated her call as she tried to push through the ponies filing into their own seats, doing her best to not lose sight of the pegasus. Dash didn’t even glance to the side, showing no sign of having noticed Twilight as she continued along her path. Squeezing between two patients being helped into their seats by nurses, Twilight closed the distance between them. Again she shouted Dash’s name, but it gained her nothing but a few angry glares from nearby ponies. I need to get closer. Twilight had to look away from her friend as she tried to navigate quickly through the press of bodies. “Excuse me, pardon me, coming through,” she apologized as she hurried along, dirty looks and muttered curses following in her wake. Despite her haste she tried her best to avoid any collisions, limiting herself to rudely bumping into and pushing past the other ponies. She couldn’t afford any delays. Eventually the crowd thinned as she rounded the end of the table, her head swinging around as she tried to reacquire her friend’s location. There she is, she thought victoriously when she finally spotted the prismatic mane. To her relief she was only a few dozen body lengths behind Dash, her friend following back along the line of ponies waiting to be served. The kitchen was in full swing, the loud bang and whirl of the sustenance-creating machinery making any attempt to be heard from any distance a futile one. For a moment she wondered why Dash was heading back towards the head of the line, but she pushed that question away as she sped after her. It was irrelevant. Dash was only a few seconds away. Twilight weaved carefully in between the other ponies, slowing herself down a fraction to avoid knocking over anyone carrying a tray of hot soup. The slight loss in speed didn’t matter; she was still closing the gap. She couldn’t afford to cause any accidental spills. She had to get to Dash, to confront her, to look into her eyes and see if she too possessed that sense of familiarity like she had seen in the faces of Pinkie Pie and- -and Applejack. Twilight frowned when she spotted the doctor standing in line. Rainbow Dash was making a beeline for the orange mare, her eyes just predatory slits. The hairs stood up on the back of Twilight’s neck, unease replacing excitement. Applejack had her back to Dash and Twilight as she conversed with another doctor, Dash’s approach entirely unnoticed. For a moment she entertained the idea that Dash was like Pinkie Pie and on very friendly terms with the former-cowgirl. She could just be going to say hello to a good friend. No, she couldn’t accept that. Something didn’t fit. Something felt wrong. It’s her eyes, Twilight realized, trying to comprehend the disquieting expression on Dash’s face. Nopony looks at a good friend like that. She is angry, and aggressive. I’ve seen that expression before. It’s the same look she wore when we fought Discord, and the changelings, and... Twilight’s heart skipped a beat, her thoughts trailing off. Dread began seeping into her bones as she broke into a full sprint, but it was too late. She was too far away from the two mares to hear their voices, but she could watch impotently as Rainbow Dash strode up behind Applejack and halted. She must have said something, as Applejack turned around, her eyes flashing with surprise as she recognized the pegasus behind her. Which is when Rainbow Dash flung her soup into Applejack’s face. Applejack’s scream pierced through the background noise, interrupting conversations and drawing the attention of nearly every pony in the room. They all looked over in time to watch Rainbow Dash toss her tray aside and leap upon the blinded doctor with a incoherent shout of rage. The cafeteria erupted into pandemonium. By the time Twilight recovered from the shock, she was surrounded by a crush of other ponies rushing about mindlessly. Some of the patients hurried towards the fight, hoping for a better view, while others tried to flee the violence. Many lost their dinners as they collided in the confusion. Above it all were the shouts of orderlies, nurses, and doctors doing their best to restore order. “Please, move aside! Excuse me! Sorry!” Twilight shouted, fighting against the currents to try and get closer. She had lost sight of her two friends once the other patients had reacted to Applejack’s scream, but she wasn’t going to be deterred. She jabbed and shoved her way through them, knocking over a few bowls of soup herself. She had to see what was happening. She had to understand. She had to know why. It was already over by the time she made it through the crowd. Silas and five other orderlies hefted Rainbow Dash into the air, forcing her limbs into the sleeves of a straightjacket with no pretense at gentleness. Like Lyra earlier, she was determined to make it difficult for them, trying her best to buck free while squirming and twisting in their grasp. Her shouts were still incomprehensible beneath the sound of a hundred different simultaneous conversations, but Twilight could make out her pained shrieks whenever the orderlies twisted her legs or wings to squeeze them into the tight garment. Rainbow’s voice was finally cut off when an orderly roughly shoved a muzzle over her mouth, ending her inarticulate screams. Despite her spirited resistance she had been bound and silenced in just seconds. Unable to move her limbs Dash resorted to tossing her head from side to side, her eyes pits of bestial rage that glared at everything and saw nothing. She looks like a rabid dog. She hated herself as soon as she thought it, but Twilight couldn’t deny the connection. Rainbow Dash had always been a headstrong and emotional pony. But this? This was something frightfully foreign. As short-sighted and impetuous as she could be, she had never lost control over herself. But she found it hard to picture the pegasus before her possessing any emotional discipline. This isn’t my Rainbow Dash, she tried to reassure herself, but the words rang  empty and hollow. Pinkie Pie and Applejack had shared a bond with their real selves; was it not likely that this Dash did as well? Twilight had seen in their eyes that this world’s versions of her friends were still the same, deep down. Behind the warped pasts and twisted histories, they were her friends. But Rainbow Dash? How could she believe the pony that had just attacked Applejack was her friend? Nurse Ratchet stood before Rainbow Dash like an unyielding glacier. Ratchet’s expression was the polar opposite of Dash, her face steady and her body calm, yet her frigid stare was no less intense. The head nurse was absolutely furious, but where Dash’s volcanic temper erupted in a pyrotechnic display of raw emotion, Ratchet’s fury was a snowstorm in a bottle, a firmly controlled blizzard that only grew colder and more deadly the angrier she got. Twilight shivered, a memory of a black storm and daggers of ice percolating at the back of her mind. “Take her to solitary confinement,” Nurse Ratchet said. Her tone was soft but did little to mask the steely resolve in her voice, her words like an armored hoof in a velvet sock. The orderlies obeyed without question. Tossing the bound pegasus up onto Silas’ back the group of them marched out of the cafeteria, the circle of ponies parting before them for fear of being trampled. Twilight turned to look at her other friend, watching as Applejack was helped to her hooves by a pair of nurses. The beet soup had stained her face red but couldn’t hide the bruises and small cuts. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeated as she wiped some of the liquid from her eyes, wincing at the soft touch. The idea of using soup as a weapon was almost comical, until Twilight remembered that her meal had still been steaming hot when she had gotten it. Applejack was lucky she had escaped with just puffy eyes and a few bruises. Nurse Ratchet strode over to injured doctor. “Mercy, Willow, escort Doctor Applejack to the infirmary,” she said as she took control of the situation. Applejack looked like she was going to protest the order, but Ratchet had already turned away. She faced the orderlies that hadn’t left with Rainbow Dash and gestured at the crowd around them. “You four, stop standing around and do your jobs. Get these patients back to their seats. Now,” snapped Ratchet, her tone as frosty as before. “We have to maintain order, so get to it.” The orderlies began herding the assembled ponies away from the scene of the fight, driving the crowd back gradually. “Alright, come on, lets move back now, it’s all over,” the orderly closest to Twilight said, using his forelegs to guide stubborn onlookers back towards their forgotten meals. Twilight reluctantly returned to her own seat. The entire event looped in her mind as she stared down into her cold soup. Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind when she saw the faraway look in Twilight’s eyes. Leaving her friend to her introspection, she idly toyed with her tray as she started humming. How could Rainbow Dash attack Applejack like that? Why? Was I wrong? Do these copies of my friends share nothing in common? The questions swirled around inside her head, all the more vexing by the lack of any answers. She rubbed a hoof against her temple. Her headache had returned. It was futile to focus on questions that couldn’t be answered, but Twilight couldn’t stop herself. Pinkie continued to hum the same soft tune as Twilight sat like a statue, paying no attention to anything but the problems she knew she must answer if she were to get back home. By the time dinner ended she hadn’t made any progress. There were too many gaps in her knowledge, to many unknown variables. She had such little hard data to go on that nothing seemed certain. She couldn’t ignore the itch at the back of her mind, the instinctive belief that her friends were the key to returning to her real life. Yet her gut-feeling about it being a certainty conflicted with her rational mind. It didn’t make any logical sense. Twilight imagined Rainbow Dash’s angry glare again and again, her despondency deepening. How can my friends help me, when they aren’t even friends themselves? Twilight remained still for the remainder of dinner, wading through the questions in her mind, seeking answers she wasn’t sure even existed.