“OH FAUST ABOVE, WHAT CAN IT POSSIBLY BE THIS TIME!?”
Now, Doctor Manner was a very patient and understanding pony most of the time. Not only was it required by his chosen profession, but it was also his special talent. His calm and soothing care had even earned a small level of renown among the locals, making him one of the most sought-after practitioners in the area.
Therefore, we must examine the scenario that led to this outburst.
Two cases of toddlers with various items jammed up their noses, an extremely uncooperative Pegasus with a sprained wing, at least five hysterical mares and stallions with absolutely nothing wrong with them (nothing he was qualified to treat, at least), a late-night emergency courtesy of old Mrs. Maybell’s failing heart, a crotchety stallion convinced he could “tough out” his Deep Vein Thrombosis, and a young colt with food poisoning who had thrown up all over the appointment room had all graced him over the past nine hours.
Now, at three in the morning, his hellish shift finally over and sterile white coat back on its hook, ready to head home and get some real sleep for the first time in days, only for a nurse to burst in blurting something about a new case that was sure to delay his departure by another hour at least…
Suffice to say, his much-vaunted patience was running thinner than the threads in an old pair of socks.
“Fine, just tell me what it is,” he snapped before he realized what he was doing. Deep breaths, boy. Deep breaths… “Sorry, I… let’s take care of this quickly, alright? Now, what am I dealing with?”
“It’s the Way family, sir.” That set off alarm bells in his head: nurses always called him by name, deliberately avoiding any use of titles. On top of that, she was hesitant, unsure of herself.
“It’s their boy, the earth pony toddler you’ve been treating. He’s, ah…”
More alarm bells. Nurses prided themselves on always getting straight to the point without detour or pause. They’d even pause outside the door and rehearse what to say if they didn’t think it was concise enough.
“He seems to have developed some form of – well…”
“Come on and spit it out already!” He winced at his own barbed tone.
Her response was a short, five-word sentence, spoken with the tight calmness of one who suddenly sees the solution but now faces the brunt of the problem. It was a statement that every doctor encounters regularly from their patients yet dreads hearing from their own staff; the phrase that speaks of a situation both memorable and unique, holding the threat of the insurmountable and the implication of the horrifying.
“You need to see this.”
The dim realization that the coat was back on only struck as he was already halfway out the door, wordlessly following her down the long pale hallway. The nurse’s hooves clipped the bleached tile in a staccato rhythm, eyes forward as she strode ahead.
Several of the rooms they passed actually held patients, a low murmur of blended voices and sounds drifting through the usually-quiet hallway. Things had been hectic the past few days since the “Rainbow Explosion” somewhere in the Cloudsdale area. Ironically, the shockwave itself had been practically harmless aside from a few sprained wings among pegasi unfortunate enough to have been airborne when it hit. What it had done was push several ponies with various ailments to finally see their doctors about it.
It would have been a welcome change of pace from the typical reluctance to make appointments, if not for the fact that they had come in all at once.
It amazed him no end how reluctant some ponies could be about visiting their doctor. That one stallion with Carpal Tunnel had been lucky; the surgeon who’d performed the surgery said the mascular degeneration had been what he’d expect to see in an elderly patient, not a middle-aged worker! And the fool had had to be dragged in by his wife for his first doctor’s appointment in years, despite the clear discomfort and pain that had apparently been going on for months! It was a miracle that he’d come in when he had, otherwise he might’ve lost the complete use of his hooves.
His idle thoughts vanished as they arrived at a door as featureless as all the others, only the slowing of his guide indicating it as their destination. Wordlessly, the nurse slid the door open and entered. Hesitating for just a moment to put on what he knew was a warm and hoped wasn’t a tired smile, he followed her in.
A mare looked up from the bundle she held as he walked in, bags hanging heavy under her eyes. All four of her daughters sat clustered around her, the three eldest engaged in a whispered conversation that ended as every eye turned to face him.
“Good evening, Doctor Manner,” she greeted him with quiet familiarity. “I hope we aren’t being a bother.”
“We’re sorry to bother yah at this hour, doc,” her husband rumbled hurriedly as he rose from the corner where he had sat unnoticed, “but we’ve no idea what to do ‘bout our li’l boy.”
“What’s wrong?” Doctor Manner inquired. “Are his ears hurting again? If that infection’s coming back, we need to catch it early.”
“Nah, we’ve been watching that like yah said tah,” the stallion chuckled, a hint of strain echoing as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s his hooves. He started fussing with ‘em a few days back like he’d gotten into a fire ant’s nest, then a few hours ago he started… well, ah’m not sure what tah call it…”
A bolt of light blue energy shot from the bundle towards the sink, an explosive flash revealing a torrent of water spraying from the nozzle.
“Like that,” the father commented with a sheepish smile. The bundle giggled happily, a tiny glowing hoof lifting into view before disappearing again.
“Sounds like my patient wants a little attention,” Manner quipped, trotting over to the mother and her mischievous ward. Two curious green eyes looked up from the bundle, an impish grin indenting his cheeks. “Hello there little fella. Remember me?”
The grin exploded into a wide-mouthed smile as the toddler clapped his hooves merrily, oblivious to the glow around his light blue legs.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled as he felt his own smile widen. “You said these symptoms appeared earlier today?” he asked the mother.
“Just a few hours ago,” she confirmed, nodding her head. “We don’t know why, but he just started… ‘sparking.’” Biting her lip anxiously, she glanced at her husband before turning back to him. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
“As a matter of fact, I believe this looks like a simple case of Magical Surge,” he declared, lifting a tiny hoof to examine. “He’s a bit old for it to be making its first appearance, but that just means he’s a late bloomer.” Feeling a tugging sensation, he looked down to see a pen from his chest pocket start floating towards the wide-eyed toddler. “They tend to come and go, but they should clear up by his first birthday. Any other symptoms?”
“…Well, no…” The question seemed to confuse her. “But this never happened with any of our other children. I mean, he has times where he gets a bit stronger like they did, but… nothing like this!”
“All four of your daughters are earth ponies,” he explained while trying to get the pen away from the toddler currently drooling all over it, “and that means they experience it differently.” Finally retrieving his pen, he gave it a look before tossing it over onto the desk, barely missing the nurse who was trying desperately to turn off the still-blasting faucet.
“What we have here,” he announced reassuringly, giving the colt’s head an affectionate rub, “is a perfectly healthy specimen of a…”
His hoof slowed, but continued to rub the fuzzy little head in wide, gentle strokes.
Something was off.
“…of a… perfectly… healthy…”
His tired mind finally figured it out, his eyes widening as he ran his hoof from the toddler’s snout, to his forehead, all the way back to the back of his head.
Meeting absolutely no resistance.
Bedside Manner, Ph.D., stared, blinking at the rambunctious, fidgety, and blatantly hornless young earth pony.
A tiny glowing hoof reached out and shot a stream of sparklers into his face, where they fizzled out with a strange tingling sensation.
“Uh… This is new.”