Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies
Volunteer Service
“Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, What are you doing for others?”
— Martin Luther King, Jr.
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Time: 8:05 A.M. Central Standard Time, June 19, 2015
Manhattan, Kansas
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The annoying buzz of her iPhone dragged Claire up from a fuzzy dream involving being violated by an affectionate octopus, only to find it less than a dream. Krystol had her arms thrown over Claire’s shoulder, but her long, thin fingers were not reaching for anything on her body. They were reaching for her pillow, and the wallet concealed inside it.
It had happened before, and even though Claire was upset about her friend’s tendency to steal anything that was not nailed down to feed her habit, she was still a friend. A good friend, well-worth spending a day with her to help clean up before the landlord did an inspection, even though Claire had to provide the cleaning materials, the pizza, and most of the labor.
“Kris!” Claire rolled off the couch, taking the rolled-up pants she had been using as a pillow with her. “What did I tell you about getting into my wallet?”
“I wasn’t!” protested her friend. “I was just… turning off your phone.”
“Yeah, right.” Claire scooped her phone off the charger on the end table, checked her messages, then unrolled her pants with a brisk snap. They had made a good pillow when she fell asleep on Krystol’s couch, with the credit card wallet and cash on the inside where her friend would be unable to steal them, and more particularly, the Sneaky Pete holster and contents.
“Sorry, Krystol. I gotta go. It’s an emergency. Dad says he hit some girl on the swather, and they’re taking her to Memorial. Wants me to run over there. Look, if you need some money…”
Claire paused with her pants half-on to dig into one pocket and pull out her clip, peeling off a pair of twenties that only lasted an instant before the long, dark fingers of her friend plucked them away.
“Just to cover expenses,” said Krystol, stuffing the bills into the waistband of her panties.
As much as she wanted to comment on what drugs those ‘expenses’ covered, Claire kept her mouth shut until her pants were fastened and she had gathered up her stuff. Sparing a quick kiss on the cheek, she darted out the apartment door and unlocked her mountain bike with a few motions, then was pedaling fiercely on her way to the hospital. Thankfully, it was just a few blocks away, barely enough distance to get a good rhythm before she was flinging the bike into the rack and locking it down.
“Excuse me?” Walking in the emergency exit of the hospital, Claire caught the arm of a passing nurse and added, “Do you have a Bridget here? My dad hit her with a swather up in Randolph, and he wanted me to come over and make sure she was okay.”
“Oh!” The nurse held one hand up to her mouth as if Claire were some sort of celebrity. “We’ve got a half-dozen ambulances on the way from Randolph now. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s going to get very busy here in a few minutes. You may want to stand out of the way.”
Trying to imagine just how many kids her father could have hit with one piece of haying equipment, Claire countered with, “My father wanted me to see what I could do for the girl. I’ve taken the Introduction to Nursing course offered by Highland, so I could help, if you need me to. Since you’ve got so many ambulances coming in, that is.”
“Ahhh…” Catching the eye of a short Indian doctor, the nurse physically turned Claire and gave her a little push. “We’re really busy right now, but see if Doctor Putt has anyplace you can be helpful at.”
“Doctor Putt?” Turning to the doctor, who only came up to Claire’s admittedly short shoulders in the first place, she put on her best smile and gave him a brief bob of the head instead of shaking hands.
In clipped but precise enunciation, the doctor took her hand in a powerful grip and said, “My name is Doctor Singanluru Puttaswamaya Muthuraju, but I tell everyone just to call me Doctor Putt. It saves time.”
“I’m Claire,” said Claire, “but everybody calls me Claire. I take it Bridget isn’t here on the ambulance yet?”
“She should be here shortly,” said the doctor without stopping his progress toward the emergency room doors. “Nasty wound, from what I’ve heard on the radio. Nearly cut through her wrist, although the paramedics did not specify how much bleeding the injury caused, or what blood type the child had. I’ve got nurses finding the testing kits to cross-match her blood and orderlies scrambling to find more beds for the other patients they told us about, but what I don’t have is somebody to hold her other hand and reassure her. A friend of the family would be useful.”
“I can do that,” volunteered Claire, trying not to think of the babysitting sessions she had where ‘reassuring’ was the last thing her presence did to a screaming toddler. They held position at the doors for several minutes while the doctor passed on instructions to the nurses running by, then the ambulance pulled in, and everything started moving really fast.
The only thing Claire could do was try to stay next to the doctor when the blood-splattered gurney was pulled out of the ambulance and wheeled into the hospital. He was rattling off orders and the nurses were darting in all directions, but one huge thought occupied her head and scrambled her thought process by the time they had all gotten situated in the treatment room.
It’s a pink horse. It’s a sobbing, crying, panicked pink horse who keeps calling out for her mother.
“There, there,” whispered Claire into one of the horse’s ears. She had to hunch her back to bend over the gurney, and the hoof that she was holding had her hand in an unbreakable grip somehow, but the words seemed to calm the horse slightly. “What’s your name?” asked Claire for lack of anything else in her confused brain.
“Widget,” sobbed the little horse.
“I can’t find a vein in all this fur!” protested the nurse, running her fingers up and down the blood-splattered leg that was not bundled up in a gigantic white bandage.
“Horses don’t get IVs in their legs,” said Claire automatically, thinking of the time the veterinarian had visited their farm well over a decade ago. “You have to shave a patch on her neck to put the needle in. And are you sure that’s… horse-friendly?”
“Don’t want needle!” squalled the horse and a horn poking through the blood-matted mane on the front of her head glowed blue, much like the aura surrounding the IV kit the surprised nurse was holding. Claire reached out with one hand and grabbed the glowing horn, feeling a sharp but not unpleasant tingle travel up her arm while the light faded away.
“You have to let them give you an IV, sweetie,” said Claire firmly into the horse’s ear. “You’ve lost a lot of fluids. Just trust me, okay? Don’t be afraid.”
“Not afraid,” whined the little horse. “M’big pony.” The pony’s actions spoke louder than her quiet words when the tight grip she had on Claire’s hand only strengthened.
“Paramedics say they gave her two milligrams of morphine sulphate,” said the nurse who was shaving a patch on the horse’s neck, right back at her job despite the weirdness of the situation. “Doctor, do you think we should give her another milligram?”
“Hurtsss…” whined the little horse.
“It doesn’t seem to have caused an allergic reaction. One for now, be ready with a second if she’s still in pain,” said Doctor Putt. “Let’s get this arm… or leg immobilized so we can cut away the bandages and see what we’re working with.”
“Don’t leave,” moaned Widget, holding onto Claire’s hand with a powerful pinch between her hoof and foreleg. “Please, don’t leave.”
“Don’t worry,” said Claire. “I’ll be right here. I’m not going to leave you.”
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 9:15 A.M. Central Standard Time, June 19, 2015
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One of the advantages of retirement was supposed to be more free time and not being called into work on a moment’s notice. The call Lee Killough had gotten from KSU Vet Med pretty much put the end to her lazy Friday morning, and thankful that she still lived fairly close to her former employer, allowed her to pull into the campus parking lot just a few minutes later. She was fairly certain that she was going to get a ticket for parking there without a current permit, but the campus cop directing traffic did not seem bothered at all by it. Instead, he just waved her on into the half-full parking lot, which looked a lot more busy than any normal Friday during summer school. There was even an ambulance parked back in Equine Receiving, but not the large animal transport Vet Med had for moving horses or cows. It could only mean one of the animals had injured a staff member or student, which gave her a cold lump in her stomach due to the morning’s panicked phone call.
Lee had barely parked the car and started up the front steps of the building before being met by a young lady she recognized as a grad student back before her retirement. She was babbling too fast to be understood, but had the strength of the young and obviously knew what was going on by the way she practically dragged Lee through the familiar hallways of the Large Animal section of Mosier Hall. The sound of complaining came from ahead, growing louder when they burst into the Large Animal X-ray room to see a panicked huddle of students and faculty gathered around. The complaining of itself was not unusual, particularly when an animal disagreed with whatever the staff was trying to do and managed to fight back, but the complaining was coming from an equine patient, which seemed to be patently impossible. That is until Lee got a little closer and saw the small green pony, strapped down to a blue backboard with what appeared to be about a mile of white bandages. The little pony glared straight at her and talked.
“Another durned hooman? Ah’m tellin’ you, ah ain’t gonna let you use that durned contraption on mah hip, no way, no how! Get me out of this thing and get mah walker!”
The muddy pony, who was struggling fruitlessly against her bonds, drew Lee’s attention like a magnet. She was talking, actually talking! Lee walked right up to the little horse, violating all of the rules of equine handling, and knelt down beside her with a popping of old joints. “You’re talking,” she said in a near whisper.
“Yeah, it’s getting her to shut up that’s the problem,” mused one of the younger student assists behind her.
“Shut it, kid,” called Lee over her shoulder. Turning back to the pony, Lee said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am. He’s just a mouthy kid who doesn’t know how to treat his elders.”
“Humph!” snorted the wrinkled little pony. “Hoomins and ponies are a lot alike, I guess. So, is you the hoomin in charge of all this foolishness?”
“No, ma’am. I retired a few years ago, and got a call from one of my former students that she had a patient who was right up my alley. I’m Lee Killough, by the way.”
“Granny Smith, of the Ponyville Apples. You gonna get me outta this cocoon or do I need to turn into a butterfly first.”
One of the rattled staff flipped through a few sheets of paper behind Lee. “The paramedics said she supposedly had… Shear fractures on the upper fovea and scratching on her stifle bone, with loose pieces of bone in the area. There’s supposed to be a bunch of other ponies with lesser fractures being sent to hospitals all around the area. The paramedics said something about a….”
The hesitation swept through the surrounding crowd, as if none of them wanted to repeat rumors about their obviously alien guest. Lee rolled her eyes and turned back to Granny Smith.
“Miss Smith, do you know how you came here?”
“In that big ole’ wagon with the nice para-whozie-whatizits, of course. They said Princess Twilight accidentally sent us to this parallel dee-mension where all the cities got weird names, but I ain’t got time to lollygag around. I need you to dig me outta these bandages so I can get back. Princess Twilight’s probably got the return portal set up by now, and I got sewing circle in an hour.”
“Unless you’re not hurt as bad as the vet said, that’s not happening, Miss Smith. We’re going to have to take some pictures of your injury.”
One of the students behind Lee cleared his throat. “The old goat won’t let us get her into the x-ray unit, Miss Killough.”
Lee looked over the well-wrapped elderly pony, who had only one hoof free at the ankle. “You really have the staff terrified, Miss Smith.”
“Call me Granny.” The pony gave a harrumph of frustration, but she did sound more comfortable talking to somebody closer to her own age. “Bunch of crying little foals, if you ask me.”
Unable to keep from smiling, Lee gave the collection of embarrassed students and staff a quelling look. “Well, after we get their diapers changed, how about we get you onto the station and see about getting that hip of yours looked at. If you hold still, I’ll even see if one of the students can run and get you a cold apple juice while you wait. Does that sound acceptable?”
“Send the mouthy one,” responded Granny Smith almost instantly. “He looks like he could use some exercise.” With as little as the pony could shift inside the wrapped bandages, she still winced when trying to get comfortable. “Ah might need just a little something more to take some of the edge off the pain, though.”
It made sense, although this was the first time Lee had dealt with a patient who could talk back. “Okay kids, let’s get Chris in here and see if we can get Miss Smith… I mean Granny a little something to make her more comfortable without knocking her out. While we’re waiting, how about we get you up on the platform and I’ll have them bring the x-ray unit down so I can show you how it works.”
Suppressing a giggle, Lee added, “I’ve published books about alien races for longer than most of them have been alive, so I suppose I’m used to it by now.” She patted the elderly pony gently on the uninjured shoulder. “Welcome to Earth, Granny Smith. We’ll take good care of you.”
- - - - ⧖ - - - -
Time: 9:17 A.M. Central Standard Time, June 19, 2015
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Claire was tired beyond words, holding her awkward hunched-over position for what seemed like hours even though some friendly nurse had scooted a plastic chair next to her. It was a nice gesture, but she could not both sit down and still hold one arm over the unicorn’s head to brush at her blood-crusted mane, a caring touch which seemed to calm the young pony. Doctors and nurses had come and gone in a long stream, but every time one of the nurses suggested that Claire go somewhere else to get some rest, that desperate pressure on her hand increased and the young unicorn trembled. At some time, the bags of fluids had started to be replaced by red containers of whole blood, and the little gap in the doorway of the exam room that Claire could see out of showed colorful winged ponies hesitantly clattering past, some of which had bright white bandages against their necks indicating just where the blood donations had come from.
“Ah, there you are.” A golden-brown unicorn a little taller than Widget poked his nose into the crowded room, taking in the sight of the two doctors working on her leg with a worried expression. “Doctor Putt, I presume? I’m Doctor Stable. How’s our patient?”
The doctor in question looked back, took a brief moment to get acclimated to the species of the new physician, and responded, “Not good. We’ve managed to get some circulation back, but she needs to get to KU Med for microvascular reconstruction or she’ll lose the leg.”
“And this Kay Who Med is where?” asked the unicorn, seeming hesitant.
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Time:12:05 P.M. Central Standard Time, June 19, 2015
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A LifeStar helicopter could fit four passengers, or five if they were fairly light. Fortunately, Claire’s weight when added to a paramedic and two unicorns, one of whom was the patient, came in under the limit. Unfortunately, Claire had never been on a helicopter ride before, and after over an hour in the air fighting turbulence and a punishing noise that even the provided helmet did nothing but dampen, she never wanted to go flying again.
Still, she was doing better than the other two equine passengers, neither of which had a head the same shape as a human, thus making the helmets provided nearly useless. They did have foam earplugs, and Widget was so wacked out on morphine that Claire thought she could sit through a speed metal concert. She still had a tight grip on Claire’s hand, and whenever she thought her human teddy bear was going to get away, that strange hoof-clench was boosted by whatever stranger thing she was doing with her horn.
The landing at KU Medical was bumpy, but it was solid ground, filled with busy nurses and doctors who escorted their patient and the rumpled young lady still being dragged along at a good clip into the building. Somehow, Claire had managed to retain her backpack, most probably because the injured unicorn had not let go of her hand yet, but there was something very important that was becoming even more important with every step.
“Widget!” hissed Claire. “I gotta pee!”
“Pee?” The unicorn’s tight grip slackened. “You’ll come back, right?”
“Yes, yes! Just— thankyou!” Claire burst out running, following the pointing fingers of several of the nurses and heading down one of the featureless hallways of the hospital. It only took a few frantic minutes to find the aforementioned bathroom, a short time to do what one did in bathrooms, and when she came back out…
You are in a maze of twisty passages, all alike.
Heading off in the direction she thought was right turned out to be wrong, and asking directions only amplified the wrongness of her location. Eventually, Claire found a map and backtracked to the helipad in the hopes that she could just head in the direction they had last taken and have at least a small chance at finding where Widget had gone.
There was another LifeStar helicopter landing, and Claire stood back to allow the gurney and associated pushers, pullers, and walkers alongsiders to pass at a near jog. This patient appeared to be some sort of green wrinkled pony, like an apple than had been left out in the sun to dry, and to Claire’s amazement, was being followed by a fast-walking dark pony with wings.
Big honking wings.
Admittedly, Claire had not seen many ponies with wings other than brief glances back at Memorial Hospital in Manhattan, but those wings had all seemed undersized for the volume of the pony carrying them. This pony had a full set of membranous bat-like wings that were large enough to poke out behind him as well as cover his shoulders up to the neck. In addition, he was wearing a full set of glossy violet armor like some knight, complete with a helmet that had a darkened visor which must have functioned as sunglasses, topped with an odd, broad-brimmed hat much like a sombrero. Since they were most probably going the same place that Widget was going, Claire picked up her pace to walk alongside the dark pony, trying to ignore the astonished looks from the patients and staff they were passing, and said, “Hey.”
It was the only word she could think of at the time.
“Hey,” replied the pony in a stiff, controlled, and female voice, not slowing her brisk pace by one step. “Are you with the hospital?”
“Not… um… No. I came here with Widget.”
“I need to get a message back to my sergeant,” said the dark, winged pony. “I’m under orders to accompany Missus Smith to the physician’s office, but I’m out of range of the communication spell in the helmet and I’m really a long way away from anything in the manual and was that helicopter flying?”
The last word came out in a squeak barely louder than a mouse, far from the kind of voice that Claire expected. In fact, the pony had a very young voice, and sounded much like Claire imagined she might feel if stuffed through some sort of portal and dropped in the middle of a bunch of aliens.
All of the alien invasion movies she’d seen had terrifying aliens, not terrified ones. It tweaked her compassion, and Claire found herself walking next to the little winged alien horse thing, resting a hand on her trembling back. “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “Did your ship crash by my dad’s farm?”
“It’s not an airship,” said the pony in short, clipped syllables. “It was an evacuation spell that went wrong and dumped us out over the farm. Princess Twilight Sparkle probably has the return portal up by now, but Missus Smith is hurt really bad. Broke her hip in the landing, and I’ve been ordered to stay with her.”
It was a lot for Claire to take in at once, but there was something obvious she could do to help. She dug out her cell phone while walking along with the strange pony, behind the collection of nurses, doctors and whatever else clustered around the hospital gurney. Missus Smith, whoever that was, seemed well attended, and her father’s phone was busy when she called, so an alternative was needed.
“Miss… what is your name?” Claire fumbled with her phone while the dark pony gave her a quick sideways glance from under the brim of her broad sombrero.
“Cadet Goose Down.” Goose gave a nervous flick of her immense wings, which made a stiff breeze move down the hospital corridor before she continued in a rapid patter. “On loan from the Academy to the Household Regiments, assigned to Princess Luna’s personal detachment as her personal command. I was the covering staff member for Hoofmaiden Laminia while she was indisposed due to maternity issues, and have not yet been reassigned.” Goose’s rigid shoulders tensed up more and she glanced from side to side as they passed through a connecting corridor. “Do you think this will reflect badly on my record?”
“D-o-w-n,” said Claire while typing on her phone. “Smile.” She poked the camera button when the dark pegasus looked back, then resumed typing. “I texted mom, and she’ll pass it on to whoever else you’ve got back there, unless mom and dad both forgot about me. Dad didn’t text me once, and nothing’s on voicemail. Now, let’s go find the other ponies in the hospital before Widget freaks out.”
You find some of the neatest people here.
And how did that conversation go? "I'd like to cameo you in a My little Pony fanfiction, would that be alright?"
I hope she's enjoying the story so far, I'd say it's striking that magic balance of whimsy and realism.
If you line then up right you could probably get a bunch all at once.
Hey, sometimes old people are scary. They know all the dirty tricks.
Poor widget
To the interest of no one its nearly June 20th in this story which is my birthday
I find Granny's level of feistiness to be a good thing. And I like Cadet Goose Down. But talk about being thrown in the deep end to sink or swim!
Awww, poor Widget. Too bad her mom isn't there. You're never too old to want you mom when you don't feel good.
A lot of ponies do have faith in Twilight, don't they? I hope they aren't disappointed if it doesn't quite go the way they hope.
9565273
I will take old age and experience over youth and enthusiasm every time.
I am glad someone or pony, realized there was a couple dozen potential blood donors standing around the farm.
Depends what kid of Xray machine theyre using. If its just a straight imager, the digital film is under teh table and the arm mount thing is highly manouverable. Means the data can be blasted down the fibre link immediatly for distribution. If its the CAT scan though, thats like a mincing machine without the teeth. And given I can feel the heat of the beam dump, no idea how high energetics react with magical fields in entities that at best have had a distributed unicorn scan.
Hopefully Goose Down, doesnt have to undergo active duty. New member of the forces? That would make her Goose Green.
Isolated from command and support? Someones bound to try and be too enthusiastic about the situation.
9565281
Hopefully ponies have a spell for her surgery, or maybe Stable is about to learn micro vascular surgery by watching.
9565388
Yeah
So Claire’s best friend is a hot kleptomaniac druggy lesbian.
Nice
No. That helicopter was beating the air into submission out of pure unadulterated aerodynamic stubbornness.
KU Med is in Kansas City?
yay. another chapter!
The thing that I find interesting about this story is how well most everyone is taking the appearance of alien talking ponies. Also I wonder how the military is going to react when they find out that containment is out the window. Since there are ponies in two different hospitals.
Oh, one of those 'friends'.
Claire, either hold an intervention or get yourself out of that situation because it ain't going anywhere pretty.
Considering the correct word would be "pedaling", I'm picturing a woman zooming along next to the cars on the road, being very aggressive as she tries to sell them something through the window.
Please forward my entire hug ration for the next week to Widget.
Well THATS a fine example of an unhealthy relationship.
On more positive notes, I enjoy how everyone seems to be taking in events with a pinch of shock and a pound of ‘just do what we were trained to do and figure it out later.’ Seems to be working out well for everyone. :D
A surprisingly accurate representation of names in India
"'Cause I'll tell you what I told Princess Celestia when she tried t' give me wings! An' you can stick 'em in the same place!"
In any case, I get the feeling that progress on the return portal isn't quite as far as the patients think. And that radio silence is more than a little concerning...
9565422
They don't so much fly as vibrate so much that the earth rejects them.
9565468
Yeah, I guess that’s why they had an hour-long flight instead of a five-minute one.
I echo the sentiment of poor Widget Filly is having an awful day...
9564226
There some logical reasons that alien microbes won’t be much of an issue. In terms of Viruses they would have evolved to DNA completely different then ours. It’s why we don’t get infected by viruses that target fish.
Bacteria and fungus infection would be harder to resist but the same thing applies. Many are specialized to target the primary life they go after. A prime example is Dutch Elm disease A fungal infection that ignores animals.
So thought there is a possibly something could infect us the chances are much lower then people make it out to be.
i.imgur.com/VXgaavI.png
pedaling
9565861
"Get off my lawn."
9565785
Helicopters are best described as a ten thousand parts flying in close formation as they beat the air into submission.
It is the job of the mechanic to ensure that formation is as tight as possible.
Also, you haven't seen anything until you've seen something as big as an MH-53 stop like this:
9565877 9565565 Sigh, picky, picky people. Fixed.
9565841 Then again, Starswirl's spell only allows connections to *compatible* worlds, or you wind up with left-handed vs right-handed sugars.
9565785 9565422 The Chair Force calls them Eggbeaters at times. :)
9565720 That's because I stole one wholesale, changed a few letters so it won't match back with Google, and used it. Bonus points for tracking down the entertainer I borrowed it from.
9565686 Ouch! Ribs! Owowowow!
9565521 Better than Kota's ex-wife upcoming.
9565341 Thrown into the deep end would be if Widget were the *only* pony tossed here.
9565270 Actually, that's fairly close. Hi, I'm an author and I've lived in the Manhattan area for most of my life, and this is going to sound a little odd, but...
9565945
It not a matter of worlds it’s compatible biology. Think back to the “Bird Flu” scare when the H5N1 virus infected a human. It triggered a panic because the fear that a flu virus we weren’t used to could spread.
The virus didn’t spread from that original person. Mostly because he lived around the infected chickens the virus did get to him. But it wasn’t compatible with the human biology and didn’t jump species. So we are still safe from that H5N1 Bird flu strain.
That one virus on the same world as the primary carrier birds and us. Apply that to an alien virus and the risk of infection is low.
Now the question is does the transport spell screens microbes to prevent cross worlds contamination?
Edited for more information. I had the wrong strain of flu listed before. It’s H5N1 the H1N1 is commonly known as swine flu.
Thinking about it an Equestrian virus might be able to infect a terrain Horse or vise versa given both are Equines.
That an interesting story idea an Equestrian virus or bacteria outbreak on Earth. Or at least the Equestria Girls universe.
I'm chomping at the bit (horse pun intended) for every new chapter of this story, thanks for writing this, loving it!
9566646
Sometimes, you draw the "somebody has to do this s() assignment" straw, and you've got to work on the completely out of left field op plan. We're talking "invasion by Middle Earth Orcs"-level planning here. And, because you're a conscientious officer, you take it seriously...
And, hardened artillery bunkers can be handled by time-delayed armor piercing artillery, ground-penetrating bombs from aircraft (usually with laser or GPS guidance), or FAE rounds. The trick is finding the damned things and putting them out of commission quickly enough, which I suspect the NSA or DRO has the ability to handle but it's still classified.
9566646
...From the summary, is that one even an alien invasion movie?
9565422
According to all known laws of aviation, bees are simply incapable of flying. Their wings are too small to lift their round bodies off the ground. But they fly anyways, by beating the air into submission out of pure unadulterated aerodynamic stubbornness.
Also, do you like jazz?
🐝🐝
Heh, good in you for knowing that.
Oh hey, it looks like the author found the 'proper' author notes.
9568882
Um... this may sound stupid, but is that real?
The first part, at least?
*searches on Google*
Huh. The more you know.
9566082
Modifying my earlier thought:
1.) The are many species of mammals in earth and an Equus disease killing most of any one species would be something to be avoided. So while the odds might be poor in any one case, Murphy* gets to roll the dice a lot.
*As in Murphy's Law.
2.) If something DOES jump to an Earth species (including humans) might there be a noticeable possibility for it to be especially virulent due to lack of similar threats the immune systems have had to deal with in the past? So it might fall under "low probability of huge impact".
Eyyy there's Goose! 😘
9565699
it is what professionals do best. a dozen men come in with 20 bullets each in their chests: "Get the IV." president has a heart attack: "Call in (insert famous cardiovascular expert here)." colorful ponies that can talk with debilitating injuries: "All hands on deck." panicking is for men who are all talk behind desks. when in an emergency true professionals don't allow themselves to break down till every patient is walking out that door with a lollipop.
YOU ARE STANDING AT THE END OF A ROAD BEFORE A SMALL BRICK BUILDING. AROUND YOU IS A FOREST. A SMALL STREAM FLOWS OUT OF THE BUILDING AND DOWN A GULLY.
9566082 As a modern aside to this story, from what I've been able to tell, there are variants of Coronavirus in every single warm-blooded creature in the world, it's just the C-19 virus that had been infecting bats managed to jump species in Wuhan, China (by whatever means it is eventually determined).
10109919 I blew away so much time on that game. And Ultima IV.
9682619 When Ronald Reagan was shot, the scene in the emergency room was much like that: direct, controlled, and focused on his immediate health with the Secret Service staying the (censored) out of the way of the doctors. The USSS learned a hard lesson from the Kennedy assassination and the chaos that swept through the medical facility they took him to.
9573518 Hey, author notes don't show up in the downloaded e-reader text (from what I understand) so I adjust.
Lol, no