//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: Where there's a Will, there's a Neigh // Story: Wish upon a Supernova // by Hyper Atomic //------------------------------// Where there's a Will, there's a Neigh “I don't know what to tell you,” muttered the brown coated stallion. “His burns are responding favorably to the treatment, and aside from that brief altercation between him and gravity,” Dr. Trotson sighed as he ran his hoof through his mane, “there isn't anything else physically wrong with him.” “And mentally?” Twilight asked. “Like I said before, he's lucid, responds to stimuli…” his voice trailed off. The physician took a moment to glance past the still open door and into the patient's room. Mack Swell Glass was again reclining on the bed, but this time gingerly holding an icepack to his much abused cranium. “I do feel terrible for spooking him like that.” “You had no way of knowing he didn't remember being a pegasus.” She responded with a reassuring smile. “I know. It's just hard to imagine anypony having amnesia that severe.” “I don't think that's exactly right,” mused the librarian. “He did say he had memories from before the accident, just that they 'didn't match up'.” Her gaze drifted to the floor, momentarily lost in thought. “About that,” he shifted uncomfortably. “How likely do you think his problem is magical in nature? I … admit I haven't had much experience in diagnosing arcane ailments, and I would rather avoid inviting a specialist until we know for certain.” Her ears perked up. “Are you asking me for help with some research?” Twilight beamed as an ecstatic grin began to grow. He swallowed hard. “Well … yes, but-” “Say no more!” The unicorn was feeling positively giddy at the opportunity. “I've already got a few ideas on where to start looking. Perhaps in some of the works of Sigmule Freud; he pioneered the idea that not all mental illnesses have physiological causes after all!” She paused, “But … what if there aren't any records of similar conditions?” The doctor could see her mental gears shifting, ratcheting up into euphoric overdrive. “Ohmygosh! What if it's something completely undocumented? I could be the first pony ever to write about it!” Twilight had begun to trot in place; her hooves tapping out a happy rhythm on the hallway floor. “Uh-” “But I'm getting ahead of myself!” she chided, “I still have to check through all of the library's medical references, psychology texts, and thaumaturgical papers on mental magic. I've got to start right away!” The lavender mare quickly turned to leave, but only made it a few steps before turning right back again. “Oh, I almost forgot! I still have so many questions to ask him.” Her forward progress, however, was halted by the now slightly nervous physician who had taken up a bracing position in the doorway. “I … appreciate your enthusiasm, Miss Sparkle, but what Mr. Glass needs right now is rest.” “But, I-” “But, nothing.” He continued, his confidence returning, “My patient's health comes first. He'll still be here by the time you get back, and you can ask the rest of your questions then.” Twilight tilted her head around the doctor to get one more look at the confused pegasus. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to have noticed their conversation even though they hadn't exactly been quiet about it. His bespectacled eyes were fixed on a drinking glass he held suspended by a hoof in front of him. He was mouthing something she could almost make out, but wasn't sure what 'bucking' meant in that context. A light cough reminded her how close she was standing to Dr. Trotson in order to see. “Sorry!” She backed up sheepishly, “I may have gotten a little excited before, and I apologize.” Her cheeks wore a hint of rose beneath the purple. “If you say he needs rest, then who am I to argue? I'll get started searching the literature and let you know what I find, if not tonight then tomorrow morning.” “Thank you.” They exchanged smiles before Twilight took her leave, hoofsteps echoing off the sparse walls of the hospital corridor. “Tomorrow morning? At the latest?” The doctor chuckled to himself. “That mare is either not planning on sleeping tonight, or is really good at what she does. I think I'd bet on the latter.” * * * After my spectacular reintroduction to the kinematics of falling bodies, my two visitors decided that leaving me alone for now would be the … safest. Once I had clambered back onto the bed in what was likely the worst display of equine athletics anypony had ever seen, they excused themselves but not before I was passed an icepack to soothe the growing lump on my forehead. Wait … anypony? I meant anybody! Did you? I thought your plan was to play along for the time being? Yes, but what does- You already heard Twilight say 'nopony' instead of 'nobody'. It's easy to extrapolate that in words like everybody, somebody, anybody, and nobody, the common parlance would be to replace 'body' with 'pony'. But … why did I think it? You're much less likely to slip-up when speaking if you're already thinking along the same lines. … Stop making sense, I groaned inwardly. Sometimes I wish I could shut you off, logic. What I needed was something to distract me from the realization that my subconscious was better at adjusting to this than I was. It was a great idea in theory, figuring out how these hooves worked. I remembered picking up both the medicine and the glass of water from before without even trying, but with no discernible digits or manipulators the 'how' of it all was eluding me. That left it up to experimentation. Sitting on the square table next to the bed was a fresh cup of the clear liquid. They must have brought it in at the same time as the ice, which was doing a wonderful job easing the pain above my brow. I've done this before without thinking about it, just have to use muscle memory. I crossed my right hoof over to reach the water on my left, reflexively grasping with fingers I couldn't feel. The glass stayed in hoof, lifting off the table as I brought it up to my face. I couldn't see or feel any suction pads, barbs, or cillia-like hairs. I frowned, carefully setting the drink down on the bed so as not to spill any before grabbing it again but from the top of the glass. Ordinarily, that would have given me a better view of the point of contact. Instead, my eyes were glued to a millimeter sized gap between hoof and glass, almost too small to see unless you were looking for it, and yet … The cup refused to fall. Okay, I was technically still holding it, but that's beside the point. How I was holding it at all was, to put it bluntly, im-fucking-possible. I was not making any physical contact with it, and every long range force I could think of couldn't be responsible for it. It couldn't be gravitational, as my mass did not even approach that of the earth. It couldn't be electromagnetic, as the glass wasn't holding a charge or even metallic. The nuclear forces were right out. According to everything I had studied and learned throughout my life up to this point, this was 'wrong' incarnate. I probably should have stopped there, put down the glass, and done my best to forget. But I couldn't. My inherent curiosity wouldn't let me. I don't know what it is about scientists, but we don't respond to the formerly impossible with fear or revulsion. In fact, it only stokes our desire to know everything we can about it. The cup remained suspended, unperturbed by my inability to classify the mechanism with which I held it. I set the icepack down on the table to free my other hoof. Slowly, gently, I prodded the side of the glass. It yielded slightly, but held fast. So the strength of the force is based on proximity to the appendage. That follows the same pattern as gravity and electromagnetism at least, which is reassuring. I tightened my grip, willing my nonexistent fingers into action. The cup closed the gap and I smiled. Whatever muscle group I was flexing was directly responsible for the field. I wonder how far this effect extends? I began to carefully relax my hold. Gradually, the glass of water shifted further, widening the distance until it was nearly a full inch away. My hoof was shaking slightly, the effort required starting to take its toll. It was such an awkward feeling, loosening my muscles just enough to let the cup start to fall, but then squeezing harder than before to keep it in the air. Just a bit more … “Whatcha doing?” “Seeing how far away from my hoof I can hold this glass of water.” I explained, tongue peeking out of my mouth in concentration. “Ooh! Is this a game? It sounds like fun! Can I play?” Exclaimed the saccharine voice. “It's an experiment actually but-” Suddenly, my brain pulled on the emergency brakes so hard I stopped mid sentence. I jerked my head upwards only to be greeted by an inverted yet familiar pink and more pink face grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “JESUS!” I screamed, wings snapping open instinctively. Meanwhile, the glass had quickly responded to my panic tensed muscles by ricocheting off my hoof, sending a shower of water everywhere. “No, silly! It's Pinkie Pie!” The mare giggled, jumping off the headboard and onto the floor. She shook her whole body, drying herself off in a matter of moments while the balloons tied around her middle bobbed slightly. I'm going to die of a heart attack before I even get out of this hospital! My heart was hammering, my breathing coarse. And how in the world did she get in here? Just as I was about to ask her, the nurse poked her head in the doorway. “Mr. Glass, is everything alright? I heard you shout and-” Her eyes narrowed upon seeing the smiling pink one. They followed the trail up to the balloons, to the open window, then over to me: Panting, wings extended, and covered in moisture. “I, wha? uhh,” She stammered, her cheeks flushed, trying to look anywhere but at us. “I-I'll just … uhh, you're probably hungry so … dinner is soon!” The nurse ducked out so fast you would have thought the ward was on fire. I stared at the empty doorway while Pinkie snickered to herself at the end of the bed. … What?