//------------------------------//
// Concussions: Minor or Major? (Mostly Revised) 
// Story: A Stranger to the World 
// by Perceptive Key 
//------------------------------//


Chapter Three
Concussions: Minor or Major?


The sunlight filtered in through the wall-length, floor-to-ceiling windows. There were no curtains, but there was a set of blinds, neatly folded on the left side of them. The view outside overlooked the Manhattan skyline, the buildings towering above the grid-marked streets while small taxis and people navigated the maze of a city. Within the pure white room, a large mahogany desk sat in front of the windows, with a dark red, leather chair behind it, it's back facing the rest of the room.

"So, how's your first day been?" a voice asked from the chair.

Alex's eyes shot open, and the room came into focus rather quickly. He looked around at his body and noticed that he was sitting in a richly upholstered, brown chair. Turning his gaze upward to see the rest of the room, he stared dumbfounded at the scene before him.

Devilin's office.

He took in everything from the magnificent view of Manhattan all the way down to the line of pens, neatly arranged vertically on the desktop. Everything was as it had been when Alex was last there. It was even raining outside the window.

"You still haven't answered my question," the voice stated. It was vaguely familiar to Alex, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Uh," Alex's mouth moved on its own accord, "It was... eventful?"

"Heh," the voice chuckled, "It suppose that your file is accurate." The chair spun around to face Alex, and the person sitting in it was not as much of a shock as Alex expected.

"Mister Daniels?" Alex felt his jaw drop.

The man sitting in the chair laughed lightly, "I would prefer Devilin, if you don't mind, Mister Harper." Devilin was now wearing a black, pinstripe suit and a dull-grey tie. "Remember?"

Alex just stared at him, closing his mouth quickly. "Um, Mist- sorry, Devilin, what am I doing in your office? Again?"

The executive type character replied with a smug grin, "The better question, Mr. Harper, is what are we doing in your head?" Alex cocked said anatomical part, but Devilin pointed to the area behind Alex.

Alex turned around, slowly. What he expected to see was a door leading out into that strange hallway from his first experience, but instead was greeted with nothing but infinite whiteness. The walls of the room simply diffused into the endless membrane of a colorless void. "What the hell is this?!" Alex spun around to face Devilin.

"That, Mr. Harper, is your mind," he explained slowly, "At the moment, your brain activity is quite low, thus allowing me to create a simple physical manifestation of your world. Had your mental activity been any higher, than this," he gestured to the office space, "it wouldn't be possible for me to accomplish such an image."

"Wait, wait, wait," Alex leaned forward a bit. "You're telling me, that we're in my brain?" he asked, confused.

"I'd prefer to call it, specifically," Devilin tapped a finger to the air, "the mental projection replication center. But your idea works, too."

Alex sighed and placed his head in his hands. From there, he ran both of them back, through his hair. He looked up for a moment before returning to stare at the floor.

"Shocking, isn't it?" Devilin asked him, grinning. "I'm in your mind and you don't have a clue why or where the hell you are. Well, I can tell you that extra-planar transplantation is much more difficult than it sounds. There's usually a bigger mess."

That sentence suddenly brought Alex back to reality, his head snapping up to face Devilin. "What did you say?"

"There's usually a bigger mess."

"No! Before that!"

"Extra-planar transplantation is much more difficult than it sounds," he repeated smugly.

A look of pure and absolute rage crossed Alex's face. "You mean to tell me that you did this?!?!" he half yelled.

"Please specify," Devilin asked, "you're being much too vague."

Alex's hands were now balled up into fists and he was shooting Devilin a glare that could turn Medusa to stone. "You're the one who sent me here?!?!" he repeated. "WHY?!?!"

Devilin sighed and relaxed back into his own chair. "You were having a miserable life, so I wanted to allow you a change of scene. Even the remote chance that you could be happy, again."

Alex calmed down slightly, though little. His knuckles were no longer white, but his fists remained clenched. "Really?" he asked.

"Nah!" Devilin waved him off, "you're just part of a little experiment that I'm testing after I lost a bet." He quietly added something that was indiscernible to Alex's ears.

"Then how do I get back home?" he asked, "And what is this 'experiment?' I'm not entirely sure that a world full of technicolor horses is exactly helping my sanity."

"Oh, it isn't," Devilin replied. "Your brain was going crazy when you regained consciousness, on both times. Apparently, you couldn't grasp where you were, what was logical. I think that you even lost your internal compass for a few minutes."

Alex stopped and began to recall the most recent events. He awoke inside of a library, met the six mares and briefly saw the dragon, and then there was a flash of light and he was in front of a throne with an even larger, blindingly white horse. "I passed out again, didn't I?" he wondered aloud.

"Oh, most definitely."

Alex let out an exasperated sigh. "Is it possible for you to tell me where I am now?" he asked Devilin halfheartedly.

"It'd be better if you see for yourself," he answered. "Oh, and if we ever have another meeting, well talk more then." The room began to fade and Alex felt a tugging sensation at the back of his neck.

"Wha-?!"



Alex shot up in the hospital bed that he was lying in, gasping for breath. Next to him, on both sides of the bed, nearly a dozen different machines began wailing, their beeping feverish and erratic. He slowly lie back down, his breathing slowing and the wailing of the machines being put to rest. The wound in his side began to twinge with pain, as well as his broken arm. Alex's sudden revival had jolted his sling and opened the gap in his side, though not so much as to cause severe damage. His head hit the pillow and he groaned. "Why me?" he begged for any logical answer, "Why...?"

The sound of a door lock being undone caught his attention. He turned to the noise and was greeted with the sight of a grey-coated, white-maned stallion wearing a lab coat, complete with a pocket for storing pens, currently occupied. Alex returned to staring up at the ceiling. "What's happening to me?" he asked, unsure if the question was directed at himself.

"We're just testing your blood for any infection," the stallion replied, thinking that the question happened to be directed at him. His voice was cool and steady, like he did that sort of thing every day.

'Of course he does this every day,' Alex mentally scolded himself, 'He's a friggin' doctor!' He turned back to the pony, now looking at a set of x-rays on an illuminated wall-piece.

"You're injuries were very severe," the doctor stated, "so much so, that you shouldn't even be alive!"

That last remark made Alex fully aware. "Wh-what?!" He should be dead?

"The injuries you sustained were impossible to have survived," he repeated. "That wound in your abdomen, alone, would have done it. The reason is that you had a large shaft of wood driven up through your chest that entered angularly through the laceration. In other words, your heart was split down the middle." The pony approached the bedside cautiously. "How did you do it?"

Alex was just as bewildered as the doctor was. "I-I have no idea..." He should be dead?

The doctor cleared his throat quietly. "Well. Yes. So, are you feeling well enough to stand?" he asked Alex.

"Why? Am I going anywhere?"

"It's the Princess's orders," he stated.

Alex nodded in reply, "Yeah, I believe so." The pony returned the nod and began to work on turning off the monitors and machinery. Alex did his part by sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, being careful with his broken one. He now realized that his shirt was still missing and his pants were, thankfully, still on. The doctor slowly pulled an IV out of Alex's inner elbow, careful not to cut any internal veins. "So..." Alex started, "How long was I unconscious?"

"Approximately sixteen hours," he replied frankly.

Alex sighed massaged his temples with his right hand. "Wonderful." Almost a total of twenty-four hours. He guess it could be expected, though, given Devilin's statement. "Um... what's your name?" Alex asked the pony before him. 'Where did that come from?' he thought. Strange.

The doctor turned suddenly, a brief wave of confusion crossing his face. "My name? Not many ponies ever ask that," he stated. "Most of the time they just call me 'doctor.'"

"But do you have a name?" Alex asked again.

"Of course. "I'm Doctor Hart. That's without an 'e,' mind you." He turned back to the monitors and looked at it intently, tapping it with his hoof a couple times. Alex noticed this immediately.

"What's up?" he asked Hart.

"I'm... not entirely sure," he admitted. "The equipment says that your minor brain functions just increased dramatically," Hart explained. "Do you feel any different?" a hint of concern was apparent in his voice.

Alex shook his head, "Nothing."

Doctor Hart shrugged, "It may be just a slight malfunction. You did hit your head pretty hard," he commented, "causing some very bad cuts, if I might add."

Alex reached up to gingerly feel the top of his head, but instead of hair, he felt the soft fabric of gauze wrapped around it. He  placed some pressure on the bandages and winced, accidentally touching a cut through the tape.

"You also suffered through a combination of major and minor concussions," Hart continued, "and we weren't sure if you would enter comatose or not. It was rather strange."

"I'm half glad I didn't," Alex replied. Nearly a dozen injuries in twenty four hours and he was still walking.



Meanwhile...

Celestia sat in her private study, the warm light of her sun filtering through the curtains, reflecting off of the polished marble floors and covering the room in a cascade of shining patterns. Currently, she was working on drafting a speech for the next Summer Sun Celebration, one where, she hoped, her dear sister Luna would accompany her. A sudden knock at the doors drew her attention. "Come in," Celestia said.

Speak of the devil, here was Luna now, opening the doors and gracefully entering the room. The midnight blue alicorn approached Celestia, her starry mane flowing on its own accord. "You called me, sister?" Luna asked casually.

The white alicorn used her magic to straighten up the papers and supplies on her desk. Stacks of papers reorganized themselves and some books flew into separate shelves. Celestia turned to her sister when the space was tidy and finally responded "Yes, Luna."

"What was it that you wanted?" Luna questioned.

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated before closing it again. She tried again, but received the same result. Luna cocked an eyebrow at her older sister. "Luna, its..." Celestia started, "... complicated."

The Princess of the Night let out a quiet sigh, "How complicated?"

Celestia slowly tilted her head to the side, avoiding her sister's gaze. "It's... planar... complicated."

Luna's confused expression suddenly shifted to shock, thoughtfulness, and then to worry. "What has been brought to our realm?" she asked, struggling to maintain a calm sounding tone.

Celestia hesitated, "It's... a human, sister."  Luna's expression instantly turned to contemplation. Celestia began to pace back and forth slowly, as did Luna. "He's undergone treatment for many injuries he sustained post-transition. I've been speaking with... them..." Celestia frowned after saying the word, "and they were aware of his arrival, though they aren't even sure of his point or origin or how he came in. They don't want to be involved, though."

It was Luna's turn to speak now, "What measures have you taken to prevent any accidents? Have there been any so far?"

"I put him under strict surveillance, with four separate unicorns scrying on him and giving hourly reports. I've also placed him under permanent watch, stationing six guards around his room, operating in continuous shifts," she explained.

Luna gave the matter a bit more thought, "What do you plan to do with him?"

Celestia hesitated again. This was the part of the conversation that worried her. "I have... invited him to dine with us this evening."

Luna spun around to face her sister with frightening speed, her face the very definition of shock and anger itself. "You what?!"