Rosetta Stoned

by Wild Vulpix

Rating: everyone
Tags: Alternate Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie
Length: 1205

A nonsensical adaptation of what encountering a higher being can do to you.

Based off of the song Rosetta Stoned by Tool off of their 10,000 Days album.

Rainbow Dash has a close encounter with the fourth kind in this alternate reality. Too bad she forgot her pen. And that the folks at the hospital don't believe her. Strapped down in a gurney, can she retell her experience and make them believe her?

Art by dear friend Stefani Lutece.

Published 2014-03-30 05:10:05 UTC
Last updated 2014-03-30 05:10:05 UTC

Lost Keys

"Excuse me? Doctor? Do you have a moment?"

A sultry, white mare in nurse's garb held a hoof out in front of a passing medical physician. She appeared to be concerned. The rest of the hospital was full of bustling staff and wretching patients. This mare seemed to have something to say that caused her to pause from her busy agenda. They stood in one of the largest hospitals ever built, with thousands of other individuals scattered throughout. It was a fine place. Sterile and up to date. Most things were white. Especially the nurses' frocks and the doctors' tacky labcoats.

The doctor halted, dropping her clipboard. She seemed to be surprised at the sudden intrusion. Looking up and and brushing the pink hair out of her blue eyes, she gawked the nurse. "A moment?" Appearing to look familiar, the doctor smiled warmly at her subordinate. Sure, there were hundreds of nurses, but this one was so enchanting. Pearl white coat. A luxurious mane. The doctor immediately noticed the resolve and concern in her subordinate's expression. "What's the question?"

Retrieving the clipboard and presenting it to the doctor, the nurse motioned for the doctor to follow. They began trotting down the sterile hall past open doors and ailing patients. The nurse gripped her little nurse cap and tossed it aside, leaving it crumpled on the floor. "More of a situation." She halted at the end of the hall. On their left was a large window peering into a small ward filled with the latest in medical advances. Using her magic she procured the clipboard chock full of test results and analyses from the basket on the door and began scanning through her notes. "A mare in exam 3."

The pink doctor, mane as lively as a titillated cloud, turned towards the window. She peered inside and saw a lone gurney in the center of the cramped room. It seemed to be turned away from them, the patient resting. "...What's the problem?" The doctor could only see a tuft of technicolor hair over the back of the gurney.

Frustrated, the sultry nurse tossed this clipboard aside too and drew to the side of the doctor. Brow furrowed, eyelids clenched shut, and voice strained, she held a hoof to the spot between her eyes. Tension in her head enough to birth a pearl, she spoke quietly, "That is the problem. We're not sure."

Eyes unmoving from the back of the patient's head, the doctor queried rather plainly, "You got the chart?"

"...Right here." The white nurse scooped up the clipboard and presented it to the doctor.

"...Not much here to say," concluded the doctor, after several prolonged moments of study and flicking through pages.

Turning away from the glass and leaning on it, gazing away, the nurse spoke in a short tone, "No, doctor. No obvious physical trauma." Now in her white, dainty hooves were a couple small syringes. Each contained a rather viscous liquid each appearing more sickly than the last. Mulling them over as if trying to decide which to use, she murmured, "Vitals are stable."

"Name?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did someone drop her off?" A sudden stroke of positivity in her voice, the doctor pried her eyes away from the patient and turned to meet the gaze of her nurse. "Maybe we could speak to them!" She prodded at the nurse with a hoof excitedly, apparently unaware of the prospect of agitating her, "Let's get some background on this fella!" Hopping up and down, the doctor squealed to herself merrily.

Perturbed, the nurse slapped the doctor's hoof away. Scowling, the nurse turned to gaze into the room. "No ID. Nothing. And she won't speak." Shaking her head, the nurse scratched at her head, perplexed, "To anybody."

With a rather peculiar smile, the doctor trotted around past her colleague to the door. Hanging on the wall to the right were boxes full of surgical masks and phantom white plastic gloves. "Well..." She enthusiastically took four sleeve-like gloves and a mask before turning to the nurse and suggesting with vigor, "...Let's say hello!"

Rolling her eyes, the nurse obliged. Although, not before casting all pf her sinister syringes but one into the trash. She chose.

Moments later, the nurse and the doctor were before the patient in the small, sterile room. It was so cold and florescent that it seemed somehow difficult to see. Could have been from the stench of diazepam lingering from the previous patient. That stuff couldn't be healthy for a contact high. Wearing their gaudy yet simple masks and a glove for each hoof, the nurse and the doctor both stared at the patient. The nurse concerned and apprehensive. The doctor optimistic and grinning.

The patient laid on her little medical bed. She breathed heavily, and the cheap hospital paper on the bed seemed to make a sound with each breath. She wore a tattered wife beater and what looked like military issued slacks and boots. Her technicolor mane was disheveled, nearly beyond repair. Powdered sugar from what were presumed donuts still speckled her lips. Eyes closed, the only sign of life was her rhythmic breathing.

Stooping forward off of her chair towards the patient, the doctor spoke slowly, "Good morning. I'm Dr. Pie. How are you today?" She received no response. Repeating her words, she spoke much slower, "How - are - you - today!?" The nurse cringed at the sudden increase in volume.

The patient didn't even stir at this. She just laid there. Nearly comatose if it wasn't for her chest rising and falling.

Breathing outwardly, the doctor decided to take a new approach. Now she spoke more down to earth, as if she were speaking to one of her own family. Casually tossing the clipboard to her nurse, the doctor leaned in closer, "Look, you're in a safe place. We wanna help in whatever way we can." Rather boldly, her sterile, plastic hoof reached outward and gripped at the patient's. It was so cold. The patient's entire complexion was covered in filth and sweat. Earthy tones all over. But still no response. "...But you need to talk to us. We can't help you otherwise," she pleaded, absolutely sincere. "What's happened? Tell me everything."

At this, the patient jerked alive. The doctor retracted her hoof in surprise and the nurse jumped in shock. Eyelids snapping open, the patient's eyes were bloodshot and crazed. Not an insane crazed, but more of a maniacally in control crazed. Red. Bug-eyed. Their usual hue of magenta, but stained red. Almost mechanically, her head swung to face the doctor and nurse. Her expression was completely devoid of emotion, save one corner of her mouth being twisted into a peculiar smirk. Taking in a deep breath, preparing to speak, the patient's ribcage rattled from deep inside her battered husk of a body. The doctor and nurse rose to their hooves and stood close by, anticipating what would happen next. The patient's voice seemed to have a drone to it. One that bore into your temple and invaded your thoughts, scattering them like red sedentary dust to the wind.

"Alright, then. Picture this, if you will."

Author's Note

what am i writing