//------------------------------// // 2 - The Centre for Reality Control // Story: Human Blood // by sunnypack //------------------------------// Chapter 2: The Centre for Reality Control In Ratley’s Meandering Manual of Mythical Monsters and Mayhem, a human is described as a docile creature that mostly attacks as a form of self-defence. It is easily spooked and requires care in approaching. A current poll in the Equestrian Periodicals place humans as the second most popular mythical creature. The first belonged to the Praxlite, a class of mysterious telekinetic fuzzballs. They were kind of like parasprites, with the added appeal of not destroying all food crops they could get their telekinetic hands on. Out of all the myths, however, humans appeared to be the most beguiling. There was something enchanting about meeting a creature that could be the cause of good fortune and power. Stories, such as A Canter into Saddle Arabia, recounted the eventual contact, abuse, and tragic conclusion of a creature hunted for their fantastical powers. One may wonder wistfully if there existed some sort of world where humans congregated, living their happy little lives in flowing cloth and gnarled forest castles that made their communal abodes. But of course humans were merely a fantasy. They didn’t exist. ———————— David followed behind the two horses. One preferred to hover slowly, while the other didn’t seem to mind going at it on foot… or hooves in this case. Already he could feel his feet starting to ache from the occasional encounter with a sharp stone, or jagged rock underneath his bare feet. He’d always worn shoes when he could keep them on, but for now nature rather enjoyed extracting its pleasure by torturing his soles. David tried to politely get the attention of the two horses. Of course, now thinking about it, horses seemed to be a loose description for these creatures. They were brightly coloured, as if someone spun a colour wheel and threw darts at it while blindfolded, upside-down and drunk. The effect was disconcerting, since the only animals he knew sporting colours even remotely similar to these creatures were all poisonous. He tried coughing to get their attention. They ignored him. He cleared his throat rather loudly. They continued to ignore him. Then he decided he would tap one of them on the shoulder. “Hey,” he said irritably, jogging up a little faster. “Do you mind letting me have a rest for a bit? I think there’s a rock stuck in one of my toes. It doesn’t feel nice.” His fingers reached out to tap one on the shoulder, but the purple one stopped, head whipping back suddenly so that his hand missed its mark and hit its horn instead. The instant David touched the purple one, it spun around neighing urgently, and its horn suddenly lit up like a glow stick. He took that as a bad sign and staggered back, but not before copping a faceful of hoof. Stars exploded in his vision as David staggered to the ground. “Oof!” Dimly, through the ringing in his ears, David heard some urgent neighing and nickering from his assailants. I think I should stay down, he thought woozily. —————— Rainbow snorted angrily at the human and without turning, addressed Twilight. “Twi’, you alright?” When there was no reply, Rainbow glanced back. Twilight was staring at the human with eyes as wide as the sky. “Blebluergh,” she articulated quite coherently. Rainbow frowned. “Uhh, what?” Twilight shook her head and shivered uncontrollably. “I-I don’t know,” she said shakily. “That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever felt, and that’s coming from somepony who’s been zapped directly by a Beaglebone.” Rainbow grimaced slightly. “I don’t even want to know what that is.” “It kind of tastes like hay pancakes, although I never knew why the slime—” Rainbow clamped her hooves to her head. “Ew! Eww! Too much information!” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a second savage shake. “That felt like tasting lightning,” she said, smacking her lips. “I don’t know why… but I feel strangely relaxed right now.” Twilight lost interest in maintaining eye contact, she looked like she was trying to see past her. “Twi’, focus,” Rainbow urged. “Human. Dangerous. Did it do anything to you?” “Noooooo,” Twilight slurred. “I don’t thiiiiink so. Rainy-Bow! Rainbow. Bow Dashie, why?” At that, Rainbow decided it would be best to address the root cause of the problem. She rounded on the human. “Hey!” she demanded. “What did you do to my friend?” The human quivered under Rainbow’s incensed glare and merely shook his head and pointed at Twilight. It muttered something and shook his head again. “Yeah right, you don’t know,” Rainbow growled. “Fat chance!” “Rainbow you know the sky is really blue?” Twilight murmured. “It’s like really, really blue.” “Oh great!” Rainbow railed at the sky. “Broken Twilight and weird human. Anything else?” The sky didn’t deign to respond. With a frustrated growl, Rainbow trotted over to Twilight, who was busy crawling on the grass. “Twi’? I going to carry you to Ponyville. PO-NY-VILLE.” Rainbow wondered why she enunciated that. “Ponies,” Twilight mumbled and smiled. Then she slumped down. “Twi’? You alright?” Twilight snored a little. “Close enough,” Rainbow muttered. Then she turned to the human. “You’re going to have to come with me,” she told him. When the human didn’t respond, Rainbow rolled her eyes and pointed to herself and then him and then back at herself. She made the same beckoning gesture Twilight did the first time. “Come on,” she urged him. “You’re probably going to have to be around when the Doc looks at Twilight anyway. Just— Don’t touch anything!” She knew the human wouldn’t be able to understand her anyway, but Rainbow did it more for her sake than the human’s. Besides, maybe it could use its freaky powers and learn their language or something. Rainbow once heard of a story where something like that happened. You just have to keep speaking to it and eventually it learned the language, right? Reaching down, Rainbow pulled Twilight onto her shoulders. The alicorn lay with her head draped across Rainbow’s neck. “Mmm, soft,” Twilight mumbled into Rainbow’s mane. Rainbow glared back at the human. “This is all your fault,” she growled. “Lucky for you, I already knocked you, or I’d give you another buck.” The human quickly took a few steps back. It held a hand to its face right over where she’d hit him. It watched her warily, as if she were the dangerous animal. Unexpectedly, Rainbow felt a stab of guilt, but suppressed the desire to apologise when she considered Twilight. The pegasus turned away from the human and muttered under her breath. “He deserved that, didn’t he?” But even as she said those words, she grimaced. —————— “Spitfire? Spitfire! Oh thank Celestia you’re awake!” “Soarin? Is that you?” “Yeah, are you alright? How do you feel?” Spitfire’s vision resolved the fuzzy blue into a converging double-image of her second-in-command. She groaned, arms flailing until they found purchase on the hard mattress. Spitfire levered herself into the seated position, grunting slightly with the effort. “Like I’ve competed in the Games… five times in a row. Ugh, what happened?” Spitfire felt like she were shovelling the words bodily out of her mouth. Her throat felt like she had been in a shouting match for last few hours. “You took in a lot of water, your ribs had been cracked, a contusion, and some bruising when you hit the river,” Soarin reported, after a brief hesitation. Spitfire checked her ribcage and around her body. “I… don’t see any injuries, or feel anything.” She started, a sudden realisation sending a chill down her spine. “How long was I out?!” she spluttered in panic. “Days? Weeks?” She certainly didn’t feel older. Soarin quickly shook his head, dispelling her fears with a quick assurance. “No, no, just barely a few hours!” he exclaimed. “Nothing serious!” Spitfire blinked at Soarin. “Then how…?” Her voice trailed off. “I’m in hospital,” she stated, looking around. She returned her attention to Soarin. “Did they invent some wonder treatment or something?” Soarin shook his head. “The doctor is just as baffled as you are,” he replied. “He took a look at you before and after you got an X-ray.” He moved to a side table where an assortment of black X-ray sheets lay. He handed them over with thinly concealed apprehension. It was a while before Spitfire could find her own voice. “Uhh, wow these look pretty bad,” she commented finally. Soarin tightened his lips whilst he shook his head in wonderment. “It’s like you’re a completely different pony in both of those.” He pointed to the mass of spider-web cracks on one image. “That’s where you splintered your fore leg when you hit the water.” Reluctantly, he pointed to another image. “This one is your ribcage where I fractured it trying to get your heart pumping again.” Soarin glanced up, guilt written plainly across his face. Spitfire smiled at Soarin, gently putting his fears to rest. “Thanks, Soarin, you saved my life,” she reassured him. “You had to do what you had to do, but that doesn’t explain how I got better so fast.” “There’s more,” he murmured, revealing the last set of images. “There was trauma directly on the nerve of your wing junction.” He flipped through the spread out X-ray sheets on her bed and selected one. The photo was mess, cracks, lines, convoluted light and dark areas. Soarin took a steadying breath before plunging into it. “When you arrived here, they saw your wing. It was completely flattened by the impact. “At that angle, a bone fragment caused haemorrhaging in your wing.” “What are you saying?” Spitfire demanded. “That I would have been in the hospital for longer?” The way Soarin’s eyes studied Spitfire belied his intent. He was deciding whether or not he’d like to tell her, or more like, whether or not she could handle it. “Oh for Celestia’s sake, Soarin, just tell me already,” Spitfire snapped. “More like, you would never have flown again,” he answered reluctantly. Spitfire’s open mouth said it all. “So how did I heal from that?” Immediately she flushed from the slight squeak that broke through her words. She reddened, but kept eye contact with her partner. Soarin shrugged, completely nonplussed with her baffling recovery. “I can’t explain it either, and neither could the whole team at the hospital. The pegasus paramedics that carried you in couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Doctor Stable told me he’d never seen anything like it.” Soarin placed a hoof on her shoulder. “They’d like to run a few tests on you,” he said gently. “When you’re feeling better.” Spitfire nodded slowly. “Whatever it is that’s healed me did a good job. I feel tired, but also pretty, hmm, refreshed?” She stretched, feeling the tension that had built up in their conversation melt away with the therapeutic stretch of her wings. “If they need to run tests, it’s better safe than sorry,” she said. Spitfire lightened considerably, things could have been worse. Thinking about it, it could have been much, much worse. Her wings were her life and she was only too glad to trade a little extra time in hospital if she could be given a clean bill of health. She didn’t know what she would have done with a debilitating injury to her wings. Move out of Cloudsdale, surely, or even worse, retire from the Wonderbolts. A shudder wracked her frame. That’s what she got for trying to… wait. “Hey Soarin—” Spitfire started to ask about the strange creature they had saved, but a sudden rumbling growl filled the room. “—Where can I get some grub?” she finished lamely. Soarin glanced around, then leaned in, voice lowered. “A kind nurse has told me a little about this place,” he confided. “They say the best pies in all of Equestria are made right here, in a place called ‘Sugarcube Corner’.” Spitfire shut her mouth before an embarrassing drool formed on the clean hospital sheets. Her eyes danced mischievously. “Well I think there’s a cause for investigation, to assess the veracity of such claims,” Spitfire suggested impishly. Soarin grinned at his superior. “Should I fill out a requisition form, ma’am?” Spitfire arched an eyebrow. “Top Secret, Soarin. The location and details will be classified,” she added with a light chuckle. “Don’t be afraid to report expenditure necessary for the successful completion of this mission.” Soarin saluted. “Aye, aye, ma’am.” He turned to leave, but stopped when Spitfire called back. “On the way can you check up on that creature?” she asked. “I’d like to know that if it’s okay.” Soarin paused, and gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re always putting somepony else in front of you,” he said in wonderment. “Don’t worry, I’ve sent Recruit Dash to check up on it.” Spitfire started. “Oh yes, I remember. She does come from this town, if I recall.” She shook her head. “Recruit Dash, eh? Small world. Well it’s in good hooves, then.” ————— “COME ON!” Rainbow yelled. “What are you—? Can you just— gah!” Halfway towards Ponyville the human had stopped and lifted its hand. It looked like it was trying to tell Rainbow to wait, but the heck she was! They were only an hour out away on hoof! It would have been less but the human was so slow. The one blessing in this situation was that Twilight was now fast asleep, working off the weird thing that the human did in her sleep. “What the heck are you doing anyway?” Rainbow snorted, starting towards the human. It shied away again, so Rainbow took the time to curb her expression and body language. “Listen,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just— We really need to get to Ponyville! Argh! Why can’t you speak? It would make this so much easier!” She approached the creature slowly. Cautiously it sat down on the grass, crossing its legs in a strange posture. Rainbow edged closer, but after a few wary glances, the human didn’t seem to mind Rainbow taking a look. With a sigh, the human reached down and started rubbing its— “What the heck are those?!” Rainbow exclaimed. “They look like—It’s like you have hands where your hoof is meant to be!” Up close, his lower appendages were definitely weirder. She noticed the bruising and bleeding as he rubbed at his bottom-hands. Her expression cleared. “Oh, you’ve been walking all this way on your bottom-hand things.” The human ignored her, making a deep-throated cooing sound as it continued to massage upwards to its thighs and legs. Rainbow suddenly understood its reluctance to travel so far. She distantly recalled that there was a word for his bottom-hands, but Rainbow put it aside. Soarin had made her responsible for the creature, and seeing it in obvious pain was a direct result of her neglect. She shook her head. A Wonderbolt would never let their personal feelings cloud their decision-making. She should have been less impulsive. Rainbow sat down near her friend and sighed. Things were starting to get complicated, but Rainbow does not balk from a challenge. She’ll sit this through and prove the trust Soarin placed with her. “Okay, we’ll take it slow,” she mumbled to herself. In a smaller voice, she added, “Sorry.” Coincidentally, that was the time the creature decided to lift its head. It seemed to nod at her, then returned to ministrations of its bottom-hands. —————— David continued to knead his feet, revelling in the short bursts of comfort they gave him. He could see the town up ahead, and that gave him a little hope, but he abandoned the idea of being able to meet something remotely human. This whole reality seemed like mythology in a blender. Winged horses, a quaint little village, a floating city, glowing horns, this world had it all. Next he’d be seeing dragons and wizards. Wizards! Maybe one could zap him back to where things make sense. David chuckled to himself. Or maybe he should be realistic about this. He quashed the rebellious ironic thoughts that accompanied his resolution. First principles, he told himself. Trust your senses, or you can’t trust anything. Maybe he was in an extensively detailed delusion and he was stumbling around a dark alley at the back of the airport. That could be possible, but he had to work with what he had. His phone hadn’t done him any good. The suit he wore as part of his uniform was soaked, and he was rapidly beginning to feel its chill. The sun was pretty warm here so he was confident that as long as he could find some source of fire before dark, he wouldn’t die of hypothermia. To that end, his best bet were these intelligent horse-things. Most of them seemed friendly, but he knew that some of them could pack quite a punch. He had to be more careful; if he offended them again, he might end up stranded at best, or beaten up. The throbbing on his cheek was enough motivation to dissuade him from trying anything drastic. Besides, if he tried to sneak away, they would just fly after him. How could he even beat them on foot? He didn’t even have his loafers. David moved onto his next foot, wincing at the pain. The massage helped a little, but he was concerned with some of the cuts he got. Would he get an infection in this fantastical world? Was it even possible to get an infection? How the heck would medicine work here? Did fantasy creatures even use drugs? The swirling mishmash of thoughts distracted him from the fundamental problem of getting home. Well, he’d have to scope around first and get familiar before finding his way back. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to slay a dragon or something to get out of this world. Or maybe he’d have to have an internal epiphany and the hallucination would dispel? Either way, sitting around was probably not going to help. With a pained grunt, David got to his feet again. “Lead the way,” he said in resignation. He waved a hand wearily. “I’ll… try and keep up.” To his surprise, instead of returning to the punishing pace from before, the particularly colourful one decided to match his pace. The merciful gesture did not go remiss. For the first time since they met, he gave her a grateful smile. From her surprised whinny, it seemed like he’d done something she hadn’t expected. Too bad, he thought. You’re just going to have to deal with my gratitude. —————— For the second time that day, Secant had a visitor. From the form it chose, definitely mortal-derived, Secant quickly realised that it was an Auditor. The only time an Auditor came around was because a regular Inspection was required, or a Reality Check was needed. Secant tried to look inconspicuous among her records. The Auditor was conversing with a dweller on the floor below, and it didn’t seem to be in a hurry. With a gnarled, what was it called? A finger? The Auditor pointed to something it held. From her vantage point, the Auditor obscured what he had shown, so all Secant could gather was the slight change in body language. It seemed like the Auditor was disappointed because it shook its head and said something. The dweller wobbled a bit, then drifted away. Then the Auditor turned around and looked skywards, right through the floor and directly where Secant was situated. With a surprised whiplash, Secant blasted down the aisle towards the Registry shelves. It occurred to her that from the Auditor’s perspective she would had no reason to flee, but a lingering thought had drifted around about a certain amendment that Secant realised she hadn’t checked up on the authority for. If she was caught making an unauthorised amendment, she was liable to face dispulsion charges. That is, ejection straight into the surface of the charged star. Secant almost wobbled into a shelf. What if she found out what else she did?! Dispulsion would be the least of her problems! Secant rounded the corner, not realising where she was going… and ploughed right into the Auditor. The wizened voice of the Auditor penetrated the tense silence as Secant tried to recover her wits. “Going somewhere?” the Auditor stated mildly. Her voice crackled with age, reverberating around the shelves. “N-No,” Secant replied. “I-I…” She trailed off, unable to reply to that penetrating stare. If there was one thing that mortal containers were good at, it was emoting feelings. —————— Since they had been going at his pace, David was glad to find that his feet fared significantly better. He briefly considered taking off his jacket and ripping the arms off to serve as cloth wraps for his feet, but the thought of destroying one of what could be his only links home stopped him from doing so. He reasoned that he’d probably regret it later, but he’d scale that mountain when he got to it. Then he saw it. Ahead was a massive crystalline fortress, for lack of a better word. The walls were made of an amorphous geode that gave the feeling of it having been grown, rather than carved. It almost looked like a jewelled version of a tree, with spires and housing jutting out of the structure almost as if they were an afterthought. It was whimsical fantasia of an architecture, the village housing around it almost fading into the background in comparison. The horse whinnied next to him, snorting urgently to get his attention. David realised he had stopped in his tracks, whilst admiring the structure. He continued walking at slower pace, wondering if this place had any more fantastical surprises in store. —————— The Auditor snapped her fingers together, gesturing at Secant imperiously. “Choose a mortal container. Anything you wish. I do get tired of your vacillating forms.” The Auditor moved visually slowly, but seemed to cover distance greater than her mortal container suggested. Seeing no means of escaping the Auditor, now that it had identified her, Secant morphed into a Praxilite. She sighed as she followed the Auditor as the foreboding figure flickering more than traversing between the Registry and the Central Reading Chamber. The Auditor waved an arm at one of the open areas and Secant settled down into an indentation made in the floor. She hovered uneasily as the Auditor conjured up a chair to sit in. The Auditor had good taste, Secant thought, recognising dimly that the form stemmed from the record she had amended— Wait! Was the the Auditor trying to trip her up by appearing as one of those… hmm what were they called again? Hummers? Hunters? Humbugs? “Humans,” the Auditor replied in scary synchrony to her thoughts. Secants whirred, her mortal container instinctively fluffing out with surprise. “Oh calm yourself,” the Auditor continued irritably. “I know all about the amendment and the record.” The Auditor raised an eyebrow and steepled her fingers at the same time. “You didn’t have the proper authorisation.” Secant deflated a little, going from a vaguely beach-ball size, to roughly the size of a basketball. Was she going to be dispulsed? She had so many records she wanted to observe. It would be a shame. The Auditor’s mouth quirked as she appraised Secant with flinty eyes. “Do you want to know why I’m here?” she finally asked, catching Secant off guard. “Yes?” Secant replied. Anything to delay a dispulsion. The Auditor waited a little, her lips pursing together. “No,” Secant finally admitted. “I’m here not because of you, but because of an intruder that made their way into the Registry,” the Auditor said. She drew out an etching on a thin metallic plate. It bore the image of a rather aggressive looking creature, with vaguely draconic features and some extremely sharp-looking teeth. To another mortal it might look menacing, but Secant found the image oddly interesting, like many of her little peeks at in her assigned records. She leaned in to take a closer look, but the Auditor drew it back as she leaned back in her chair. “I take it from your reaction you haven’t encountered this one?” the Auditor stated. “Well, its form varies, but it is certainly responsible for a number of incursions, not just at the Registry, but also at the Root.” Secant mentally gasped, the many fibrous hairs of her coat sticking out wildly in every direction. “That’s right, dweller, that’s why we’re so interested in tracking this anomaly down.” The Auditor returned the etching to her coat, the plate wavering insubstantially as it disappeared from sight. “We need to know what this thing is planning. So I need you to retrieve the record that you’ve made the amendment in.” Secant hesitated, then bobbed in agreement. In a blur of fuzz and poof, Secant raced off to the bookshelf. In the space of a few moments, Secant returned to the Auditor with the record in tow. “Thank you, dweller,” the Auditor said coolly. “You’ve been a help to Central Services.” She paused and cocked her head. “You haven’t read this, have you?” she asked suddenly. Secant quickly gestured negation. The Auditor studied her for a moment, before nodding her head. She reached into her coat and withdrew a card. The typeset was grey like her eyes and the background black as her muted felt coat. She smiled thinly at Secant. “Let me know if anything else happens here. Keep an eye on your records, and forget we had this conversation.” Secant bobbed apprehensively. She was about to see the Auditor out, but the second she drifted back, the Auditor had disappeared. One moment she was there, the next, she was gone. Secant bobbed back and forth uncertainly. When she was sure the Auditor had left, Secant hurried back to her desk. In a matter of minutes she had compressed all of her work—and her desk—into a tiny satchel. Secant changed her container to something that would make it easier to blend in, and she headed back to the Registry to do one last thing. Right now would be a good time to go on vacation. Tricking an Auditor wasn’t something the Central Services would take too lightly. If she were lucky, the best thing she could look forward to would be a dispulsion. If she weren’t… well there were things worse than simple non-existence. ——————— Rainbow breathed out a sigh of relief as they crossed the bridge, officially entering into Ponyville. Now came the second problem. Already, she was drawing in a crowd, what with an unconscious alicorn on her back and a mysterious new creature studying everything around her curiously. Around her were hushed murmurs constantly buzzing around her. “What happened to Twilight?” “What’s that thing following her?” “It does look familiar but I can’t quite put my hoof on it.” “Do you think it’s dangerous?” “Is Ponyville in danger?” “Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town just blew itself off the face of Equestria.” “Well I always needed an excuse to buy a new sign.” “Berry!” “Sorry, I’d be devastated if my basement wine collection was vaporised.” Rainbow decided it’d be best to lay their fears to rest… and her twitching ears. “Nothing to see here!” she declared, pushing her way forward. “Move along, just on some business from the Wonderbolts.” Most of the ponies nodded along, satisfied by the officious-sounding excuse. One of them trotted forward instead of moving away. “Lyra?” Rainbow said. “Uhh, hi, do you need anything?” Lyra ignored Rainbow, studying the human with keen eyes. “Hmm,” she said, examining the coverings. She glanced back at Rainbow. “Fascinating.” Rainbow came around to the opposite side of the human, cutting Lyra off. “What are you doing?” she said through slightly gritted teeth. “Just confirming whether this creature is actually a human,” Lyra replied nonchalantly. “W-What?” Rainbow spluttered. “How did you—? How do you even know what it looks like?” Lyra waved a hoof dismissively. “I do a lot more than just sit around and nap, Rainbow. I like to read up on mythology and ancient history.” Rainbow was taken aback, then immediately recovered. “Wait, so you’re saying you know something about these things?” “You probably know the basics, then?” Lyra queried, she was examining the hands and reached out with a hoof. Hurriedly, the human retracted his hand and gripped it with its other, staring at Lyra warily. “Uhh something about it having good luck and healing…” Rainbow hesitated, trying to recall what Twilight had mentioned. “I’m not sure.” Lyra rolled her eyes. “You probably used Oxley’s or something,” she muttered. “Never mind, some of that is not entirely accurate, at least according to some other primary sources.” Rainbow scrunched up her face. “Primary what now?” Lyra took a deep breath. “Primary sources,” she explained patiently, “are sources that give first eye-witness accounts or relate to the time period where it has come from. The mythology of humans could have been rooted in fact, and then steadily washed away with time.” “Yeah all this is really interesting,” Rainbow said curtly, “but what does that have to do with the human?” Lyra dropped into a recitative tone as she continued. “Well first off, this one seems to be between young and a middle age. I can’t really tell since I’m no biologist, but it does seem healthy—” she noted its slight shivering “—if a bit cold. Humans are famous for being remarkably free of hair except on their heads, and they have no real physical capabilities other than an amazing propensity to run large long distances. According to most myths, they’re quite harmless unless threatened.” Lyra cocked her head as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Actually there’s something about how humans only follow virgins or something.” “WHAT?!” Rainbow squeaked. Lyra laughed at Rainbow’s reddening reaction. “Oh I wouldn’t put so much stock in that one, it’s one of the more silly stories.” Rainbow glared at the unicorn. “Anything else?” Rainbow muttered. “This one’s male,” Lyra said. “Huh, what? How can you tell?” Rainbow asked, for once curious. Lyra raised an eyebrow. “The same way you can tell with any other animal,” she commented wryly. Rainbow’s eyes flickered down briefly, then snapped back to Lyra’s amused face. Rainbow flushed as Lyra smirked at her flustered reaction. “No, Rainbow,” Lyra added with a stifled chuckle. “I’m just reasonably sure because human females were said to have quite prominent mammaries.” Rainbow scrunched up her face. “Mammaries?” “Breasts. You know, like minotaurs.” “A-Ah.” Lyra clicked her tongue, breaking the temporary lull. “Well, I have other things to do today, but this was a distinct matter of interest.” She grinned. “It’s uncanny,” she added. “Like seeing a legend coming to life. Although I bet my horn that half of what the legends say aren’t true. Just a word of advice, though. As soon as other ponies catch wind that you’ve gotten a mythical being like a human….” Lyra glanced around. “Well, truth or not, they’ll want him for themselves.” Before Rainbow could say anything, Lyra departed, leaving Rainbow alone on the bridge with uncomfortable thoughts. ——————  Secant flew down the aisles one more time. Before she went, she had to retrieve the record that started it all. Secant had a bad feeling about that Auditor, she was up to no good. Secant arrived at the shelf and was relieved to see it was still there. Part of her had been afraid that it would have disappeared in the small time she had left it alone. She retrieved the smaller, paper-bound copy of the registry from Earth. With book in tow, Secant quickly headed to the Press. The Press was the only machine in the star powerful enough to change something beyond an amendment. Secant drifted down to the centre of the star, scrupulously trying to avoid contact with other dwellers. The ones that ran into her didn’t pay her any mind. They were used to minding their own business. Close to the centre of the star was the Core. The Core was a giant glowing mass of unrealised potential that bore the primeval energy of Existence. As always, Secant slowed down as she approached the Core. All dwellers had a connection to the Core, it was what sustained their life. Secant had a healthy respect for the Core that bordered on reverence. She skirted around the serenely humming sphere, making her way to the Press just off to the side. The Press looked like a simple block of cubic gold, but was so much more. According to some of the older dwellers, it was thought that the Press ran on the direct energy of the Core. Secant didn’t really believe that, but she never questioned it. It worked, and that was usually enough for her. Placing her registry carefully on the Press, Secant gently fed power into it, carefully adjusting the flow so that only three pages from the book were separated. She looked around nervously. Although she knew there weren’t any dwellers around—as no one had used the Press for centuries—her apprehension remained. She quickly gathered the pages up and exited with them in tow. Secant raced down the aisle towards the Shifter. She had to escape quickly. Her best bet would be to get out before the Auditor realised she had been tricked. She was risking an awful lot on a few words she had read in the Registry, but for once in her life she had been inspired. Those words had been few, but they meant a lot. Ahead Secant saw the dimensional fold of the Shifter, spacetime in that region was in a constant state of flux so Secant concentrated on holding onto her memories. There had been cases where memories had been lost to the aether during transfer. Secant set the coordinates, but paused briefly at the edge of the Shifter horizon. She took one last look at the star, committing some of the more familiar places to her memory. Secant withdrew the pages and read the words one more time to give her comfort. Then she did something no dweller had ever done since the star’s creation. She left it. ——————— The journey to the hospital was more subdued; even though Rainbow noted that ponies were sending glances their way, none of them approached. The human followed along, limping even more on the hard cobblestone paving that made up the majority of Ponyville’s central walkways. Rainbow felt sorry for it—him, she corrected herself—but there wasn’t much choice. Only a little farther until the hospital. “Don’t worry,” she said to the human in a hopefully reassuring tone. “We’re almost where we need to be.” The human looked up, but he otherwise didn’t reply, seemingly concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. “Right,” Rainbow said. “We’ll just head in, I guess.” Thankfully, Nurse Redheart was already at the reception. As she approached, she instantly noted Twilight draped across her back. “Get the Princess into Examination Room B,” she told a couple of nurses standing by. They nodded and immediately grabbed the nearest gurney, gently laying Twilight onto one. “What happened to her?” Nurse Redheart queried, retrieving a clipboard and some documents from behind the counter. “I don’t know,” Rainbow replied honestly. “The human touched her horn and Twilight just said some weird stuff then sort of fell down. I had to carry her all the way back.” “Human?” Nurse Redheart asked, then her gaze shot to him. “Oh I see, this creature?” Rainbow nodded. “Can the hospital treat him? He seems to have hurt his…” Rainbow gestured vaguely to the human’s feet. “Whatever those are.” “Feet,” Nurse Redheart replied. “At least that’s all I remember from Xeno. Doctor Stable is our resident Xenobiotician. I’ll fetch him as well.” “Thanks,” Rainbow said. “How’s Spitfire doing? Any chance you’ve seen Soarin?” Nurse Redheart shook her head in wonderment. “Spitfire is almost fully recovered. I can’t explain how, she’s just completely healed. A fractured ribcage, several broken bones in her wings, possible spinal damage, not to mention bruising and concussion… I’ve never seen anything like it.” Rainbow gaped at Nurse Redheart, her mouth shut with an audible click. “So Spitfire is already better?” she blurted. “How does that work?” Nurse Redheart shook her head. “We’re running some tests to determine exactly how that came about. Soarin left the hospital, but you must have missed him, he hasn’t been gone for long.” “Thanks,” Rainbow said. “I’ll go look for him and tell the others about Twilight. Thanks, Nurse.” “Not a problem,” Nurse Redheart said, then turned to the human. “If you would follow me please?” The human didn’t move from his spot, he just stood there. “Uhh, please?” Nurse Redheart added. Rainbow sighed. “Sorry, Nurse, I forgot to mention that it doesn’t speak our language.” She motioned him to come over. “Try it like this,” she advised. Nurse Redheart beckoned with a hoof, making eye contact with him. The human still didn’t move. Nurse Redheart turned to Rainbow. “Any reason why it doesn’t want to follow me?” Rainbow’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know…” Then her thoughts flickered back to the conversation with Lyra. “No, no way,” she whispered. “What is it?” Nurse Redheart asked. Rainbow mumbled something under her breath. Nurse Redheart leaned in closer, frowning. “Speak up, Rainbow, I couldn’t hear what you said.” “I said,” Rainbow ground out through gritted teeth with reddening cheeks. “That I was told humans only follow virgins.” Nurse Redheart burst out laughing. “That’s preposterous, how does it know?” “He,” Rainbow corrected. “And I have no idea.” “Well we can easily find out,” Nurse Redheart said with a playful expression. Louder, she called out to the rest of the reception. “Anypony here a virgin?!” Silence greeted the pair. “Perhaps, Miss Dash, are you—” “N-NO!” Rainbow denied loudly. She groaned and covered her face as the room’s occupants stared at her outburst. Nurse Redheart patted Rainbow on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Miss Dash, I didn’t have to ask. It’s in your medical records, which of course are confidential. I am a professional after all.” Rainbow flushed a deeper red. “If you knew then that I was—” “Lighten up, Miss Dash, it’s all about knowing when to take your job seriously.” She regarded the human. “Though how we’ll get it to follow us is still a problem.” Rainbow gestured at the human. “I guess the others will have to wait a bit,” she mumbled in resignation, beckoning the human to come along. “Follow me.” Unsurprisingly, the human followed Rainbow, causing her to sag further. Nurse Redheart’s amused titter made her want to merge with the floor. “Why does this stuff always happen to me?” Rainbow mumbled. ——————— David glanced between the nickering horses engaged in avid conversation. When he realised he was in a hospital, he became apprehensive of the whole situation. He didn’t like needles. In fact, he had a debilitating fear of them. If he had the choice, he’d want to be as far away as he could get from hospitals, doctors and their sharp instruments. David had tried several times to get over his phobia, but he’d only just learned to stay in the hospital. He barely kept the impulse to run under control when he recognised one of the horses sporting a nurse’s cap. The nurse waved at him to follow. He shook his head instinctively, his feet rooted to the spot. Move, dang it! He told himself, trying to overcome his irrational fear, but his legs could have been made of stone. Instead of taking offence, the nurse said something to the rainbow one and then smiled at it. The rainbow one seemed to deflate then gestured for him to follow her. Relieved he’d have something at least familiar around him in a hospital, he followed the horse at its request, but he wondered why it seemed so upset when he did.