Wednesdays were different days.
"I would say 'good morning', Lyra, but it seems like you didn't sleep very well," mused the pegasus stallion under the brown bowler.
One disheveled anthropologist blew her stuffy nose into a tissue and ran a few waves of magic through her mane to try and assemble a reasonable image of professionalism. Which failed spectacularly. She blew a raspberry and flicked her tail in annoyance.
"I didn't go home last night, wound up sleeping in my office."
The pegasus thoughtfully starred at her for a moment. "Did something remind you...?"
"Yes," Lyra sharply cut him off, looking aside.
The pegasus sighed. "Shall I schedule a session after you're done visiting the patients in my asylum?"
"That would be a good, yes," Lyra replied with a nod. "Now, may I see this Wednesday's cases that are in need of the Department's aid, Dr. Fritz?"
"Of course," Dr. Fritz replied, hoofing over a few files. "It's only three today. Ones our on-staff anthropologists simply can't seem to get heads-or-tails of."
"Phew, I was a little worried Thrandor was on the list," Lyra sighed in relief as she look at the files held in her magic.
"Oh, no-no, he's been very cooperative and calm," Fritz explained with a smile. "In fact, he seems to spend most of his time... meditating, I think. Also, he won't stop muttering about the Force."
Lyra just rolled her eyes. "He's a displaced, what do you expect? He believes he's in some sort of chess game of the gods. At least he isn't trying to seduce everything with a pulse."
"Memories of Bob?"
"Unfortunately. Now who should I see first?"
* * *
"This was a mistake," Lyra muttered while yawning.
"It's the gub'ment, I tells ya," said the bearded old man in a tinfoil pirate cap. "They'b know'd about it for yearth. Little horsey aliens, colorful like an LSD trip. That'th why they wanna crack down on all the drug tradings, cause they don't want any to stumble upon thith dimension of crystal delight."
Lyra hated it when this happened. As an anthropologist, she had some training in psychology, but not to a professional extent. But that didn't stop Dr. Fritz and his staff from dumping human nutcases in her lap every now and then. All so they wouldn't have to deal with trying to juggle pony and human cultural norms around the extreme cases. This was so not in her job description.
The only good part was that she received excellent compensation for these extracurricular sessions. Even if that didn't entirely outweigh the bad.
"Well, a government is funding this alright," Lyra said offhandedly. She didn't really care at this point. Just as long as the patient didn't attempt to bite her. The mittens strapped to his hands helped to put her at ease.
""Shee? I know'd it. They'd all done said ah was crazy. But, I didn't listen. Ah told them there was little horsies behind those mysterious disapearances."
Lyra didn't even bat an eye. It was only natural that the poor humans that were pulled from their own world would start telling stories once they returned. Memory wipe spells were both illegal and immoral, and giving them cover stories would just wind up making everything more complicated and troublesome. It was best to just let them go back and figure things out for themselves, after receiving aid for any cultural shock or physical trauma that may have occurred upon arrival in Equestria.
Apparently no one really took them seriously. Other than conspiracy nuts.
"They're funding et, this 'ole thin', using our tax dolla's agin' us," the man went on to say. "I know'd it wath a great idea to drop off the radar."
"I'm pretty sure that would require to have been in it in the first place," Lyra muttered, even though she knew this really wasn't going to get through. "And, believe me no tax money is touching you."
"You ain't foolin' me, witch horse. Even aliens gotta use a currency o' some sort. Probably where all the money at Fort Knox really goes, innit?"
Lyra had considered jumping out a window and screaming at multiple points in her career, and this was no different. The thought of all that pain and stitches that would follow was all that kept her from actually doing it. "I will concede the point that I am indeed an alien, but I will not be compared to those disgusting creatures, you hear me?"
"Et's what you are, don't you denae it," the man said, flailing his arms about wildly. "Ooouuchiee."
Lyra had rolled up the man's file into a baton and promptly began smacking him with it. "I will deny it till hell freezes over and the heavens turn to dust."
"Horse, horse, horse, horse."
"Aaarrrgh," Lyra hissed between clenched teeth. "Let me just try and set you straight on a few things," she checked the name, "Billy."
She cleared her throat before beginning her lecture. "No government is in any way responsible for this extradimensional inconvenience, and no tax dollars go anywhere near taking care of the humans that appear." Lyra groaned when she saw the cluelessness in his eyes. No one would question her if she just walked out the room and went on to her next patient. But, she would try anyway.
"It's called the Human Fund," she explained softly. "Humans aren't the only things that get pulled over, so, when we find something that's marketable over here, we ensure ten percent of all the proceeds go to helping you humans throughout your initial shock and/or recovery. That also includes housing, medical, and paying the mages to construct their energy-draining portals."
Lyra had seen enough humans off to know that those mages earned their pay. Quite often it took at least five to create and hold open a single portal for just a few seconds.
"The books and stage plays alone bring in a king's ransom annually," Lyra mused, thinking back with a faint hint of a smile on her face. "I remember when I was just a filly, due to my prestigious skill with the lyre, I participated in the orchestra pit in Canterlot Symphony Hall during the Phantom of the Opera. My parents were so proud."
Billy's response to that was about what Lyra had expected.
"You jes' a'mitted yo're a prestigiousious liar and yet ya still expect me ta just keep calm and turtht you infernal creatures. When I break loose, I'm gonna tell the whooole worl' and they'll rise up and tear you down from yer golden pedestal."
Lyra didn't react. She kept a calm face as she gathered up her papers and files and calmly left the room. This was not her job, but she could explain some points of human culture the patient wouldn't stop going on about.
Sometimes humans just couldn't be reasoned with, and had to stay or else endanger themselves or their fellow beings. A sad state of affairs that even ponies were subject to too. At least they were well cared for.