5 The Big Apple

Time: 16:45 hours (4:45 PM CDT), Thursday, June 20th, 2058

Location: No. 1 Innovation Way, Lampasas, Texas

Place: Chief Executive Officer and Founder office, 13th Floor, Texas Industrial Consumer Technologies Campus

The office on the thirteenth floor of the TICT Main Campus was a plush affair. Velvet cushioned chairs, a soft high pile carpet, pleasing replica paintings of Renaissance artists on the wall, an electric fireplace producing a warm glow in the otherwise cool room. An antique oak desk dominated the western wall, which was a triple thick, vacuum sealed and bullet proof glass panel. The chair behind the desk was rather simplistic compared to the furnishings surrounding it, but that was by design. It was less a place to rest than a place to work. Presently, it was occupied.

Moexatl Ana’Ra Rwo’tanque rarely left this office. It was his home. It was one of a few places where he could be in relative safety. In front of him, enclosing his desk and a good portion of the floor space around was a holographic projection. The projection showed a middle aged man with slightly graying russet hair and a young woman sporting a shock of black hair tied into a messy bun. She wore glasses and a severe business skirt, but otherwise she was a pleasant face to look upon. Not that Mr. Moexatl ever thought of her that way. The man was more stately coiffed, but looked more harried. The lines on his face were deepening, most likely from office politics. The bulk of those politics involved a group of new talent coming in.

“So,” Mr. Moexatl stated, “tell me about this new group of minds ya’ll recruited. What are they like?”

“Well,sir,” the young woman started, “they are some of the most brilliant madmen I’ve ever met. Cooper himself is working on ways of improving the gel formula to compensate for viscosity breakdown and he’s at 90% down with his research. He’s only been here a day and he’s this far. It’s awe inspiring…”

“And the others?” Mr. Moexatl asked.

The middle aged man now spoke, “You mean Wolowitz, Koothrapoli, and Hofstadter?”

“No,” the Boss affirmed with a cocky grin, “I mean the Safety Patrol, plus Four.”

“Sorry, sir,” the man said, “it’s just that each of these men are equally as impressive as Dr. Cooper. Dr. Wolowitz is already hard at work rebuilding the AI for Project Aegis. It’s sounding more personable by the hour. Drs. Koothrapoli and Hofstadter are working now on side project that will benefit Project Mithrandir, even though Team Taurus is confounded with it. The strides they’re making are astounding to say the least.”

“Have they seen the conundrum we’ve run into with Project Mythril?” Mr. Moexatl asked.

“They have sir,” the young woman replied, “Cooper and Wolowitz are getting the capacitance gel to deflect a greater tolerances than it ever has before. We’re on the verge of a major breakthrough.”

The russet man said, “The whole group is devising a new way to generate the plates of exotic materials used in the plating. Carbon-silica was only a start, according to Hofstadter. They’re working on a magnesium composite that will be lighter and more weather resistant than our previous models. They’re already talking jump jets and gyroscopic recalibration…”

“Marshall,” the Boss said, “have they begun anything on Project Phlutdroid?”

“Just now,” the russet man confirmed, “they still don’t see a way around The Three Laws. They’re still working on it, but according to Koothrapoli, the only way around the Laws was separate the WarGolem AIs from the Offensive Weapons Control and hand that off to the driver.”

“I kinda thought so,” the Boss said, “The Asimov Laws of Robotics were made for a reason. Well, it was worth a try.”

“We seem to be doing good, sir,” the young woman says, “the latest Forbes report has us on a projected course to increase our profits well above last quarter's earning.”

“Something tells me Joe Hallenbeck is less than thrilled with this,” the Boss said, “am I right, Darian?”

“More than right, boss,” Ms. Darian replies, “he’s on the warpath, even as we speak. He wants to shut down both Project Mythril and Project Phlutdroid. He says they are a waste of resources that could be better spent on building up our ‘brand image.’”

Mr. Moexatl adds something in his native Nahuatl; neither Ms. Darian or Mr. Marshall asked for clarification. His native language was a private way to express disappointment. He pinched the bridge of his nose; Hallenbeck was a marketing major with no real talent for the sciences. His idea of innovation was making a bigger microwave for his Hungry-Man dinners. All of his proposed projects are met with stern opposition and on the off chance one was approved, the fact that he had no real discipline in mathematics or engineering made his efforts hilariously fruitless. Most of the R&D members were already tied down to official projects on the company roster. It didn’t help he was an avaricious man, with gambling debts that would drown most households in months if not days. Ana’Ra hated the man, but his lucre paid for quite a lot of the research and development his company devised.

“I’ll speak with Joe in the morning,” the Boss said, “I’ll make him see reason or I’ll tear off his bendejo cabeza. In the meantime, make sure our new geniuses are well housed and happy. Get ‘em some girls if they want him.”

“That won’t be a problem with Drs. Wolowitz and Hofstadter; they already have wives,” Ms. Darian, “I’ve seen Dr. Hofstadter's wife. She could almost be confused for a movie star. Well, a third rate porn movie star some sixty years ago, but a star nonetheless.”

“And I thought men busted each other’s ball’s,” Mr. Marshall exclaimed, “all things considered boss, we won’t have a lot of worry from this group. Well, except for Dr. Cooper.”

“Care to explain?” the Boss asked.

“Dr. Cooper is-” Mr. Marshall started before Ms. Darian interrupted, “completely insufferable. The man has a Napoleon Complex bigger than Alaska. He seems to think he can do no wrong. He may be right most of the time, but he is still a flawed human being.”

“Keep a watch on him, then,” the Boss said, “and make sure he gets a decent psych eval. I’ve looked over the other’s profiles. They seem well adjusted, for geniuses. Dr. Cooper’s profile is- incomplete. I just hope we don’t have another Luthor on our hands…”

Both executive answered him with affirmations.

“Anything else of note?” the Boss asked.

“Not at the moment, sir,” Mr. Marshall replied. Ms. Darian said similar.

“Alright, then,” Mr. Moexatl added, “have a good night you two. Sleep well, get here early, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

“Yes, Boss,” they both affirmed before the hologram faded.

As the projector system folded into the floor, a door hidden in the marble paneling of the southern wall opened up. The soft patter of silken feet made it’s way to Ana’Ra’s ears. The smile that crept across his face was genuinely happy; no other being could make him eek out his most earnest side of himself. Traipsing in barefoot and wearing naught but a silk blouse was his live-in companion, the Help-Mate© named Tabitha Rutledge. She liked being called Taffy, though, and it wasn’t because of her candy floss hair or bright pink fur.

“Long day?” Taffy asked, draping her voluptuous body over his desk.

“Yes, and taxing, too,” Ana’Ra replied, “Hallenbeck is back on the warpath. He’s calling for the cancellation of our two biggest projects and trying to divert precious resources to his pet resource hog.”

“I never liked him,” Taffy replies, handing Ana’Ra a large glass of water and a bottle of Aleve, “he strikes me as a man with an empty belly.”

“I know what you mean,” Ana’Ra replied, popping a pair of pills in his mouth, swallowing a modicum of water before doing so, “nothing ever fills that void. He’s always wanting more. I’d fire him if he were an employee or buy him out if the company could afford it. I’m more than certain he’s embezzling funds, but I can’t really prove anything.”

“He’s bound to make a mistake sometime,” Taffy assured, “until then, bog him down with red tape and bureaucracy. And until then, keep doing what’s best for the company.”

“That’s the plan,” Ana’Ra replied, “I keep forgetting just how brilliant you are, Bunny.”

“An oversight, I’m sure” Taffy smirks, before removing the lone article of clothing she walked in with, “so what are going to do about that?”

Ana’Ra doesn’t answer in words; instead, he takes one of her furry breasts in one hand, cups a deliciously meaty buttocks in the other, and kisses her deeply.

Summer Grasses Are a Soldier's Dreams

A Vogonverse story featuring Fluttershy

Time: 14:45 hours (2:15 PM EDT), Friday, June, 21st, 2058

Location: 800 Poly Place, Brooklyn, New York

Place: Group Therapy Room

Session Conductor: Dr. Vanessa Ozbourne, PhD., Psychotherapy

The sights and sounds of the street below were seeping into the room, more so since the door had opened allowing Sergeant Arkady Visovic and his bride entered the room. Fluttershy seemed to have a steady, but reassuring hand on her husband’s shoulder, and from the looks of it he needed it. The expression of anger was etched into his face. Each line was a telltale sign that a fuse had been light, and then by some miracle it had been cut and destroyed. Without a word the barcalounger was brought over for the very pregnant buttery yellow mare.

“Sarge, you okay?”

The question caught his attention, and before he even sat down he looked toward the very heavens.

“There are some people, no, not people, doing what they did they are not even animals.”

Everyone looked confused.

“Sergeant Visovic, please, have a seat and talk. I believe it would be good to get whatever it is bothering you out into the open,” Dr. Ozbourne said.

“Where do I start?” he looked at Fluttershy.

She gave him a soft smile, and then looked at the others, “Did any of you watch the news, or see the paper yesterday?”

There was several shrugs, and no one seemed to indicate that they had actually watched or read anything of much importance.

She swallowed, looking nervous, but a Pegasus protected her family, it was a Pegasus’ duty to watch over those he, or she, cared for, and at the moment that meant helping Ark find the right words. Biting back her own nervousness she looked at them, “I suppose that all of you remember Ark talking about our friend Pinkie Pie, and her husband Andy?”

There was several nods, and then somepony else in the room spoke up, “Isn’t he the guy that helped get equal rights for the helpmates? I don’t mean to insult, but he was the voice that helped bring attention to it, right?”

She nodded, “Yes, he is, and yesterday he, Pinkie, and their foals were invited to speak in the nation’s capital. Somepony… They shot him. He’s alive, but…”

She sniffed, and then she felt Ark’s arms around her, “Sorry люблю.”

“The attack,” Ark began, “It was more than just a friend being shot. Some of the older people living nearby talked about how this is like what happened years ago to Dr. King.”

He breathed out, letting Fluttershy hold him, letting her trembling calm, “To know that such hate exists, that someone would be so darkly against ensuring that everyone had equal rights, I know that we’re not perfect, but I had hoped that humanity was past this bullshit!”

“It ain’t like that Sarge,” Rachel said, “We all know that. I know that you do to. There’s still a lot of bad in this world.”

Another soldier, one of the more quiet ones, in truth he’d barely said two words, and typically he was easy to overlook. He cleared his throat. When he did everyone looked toward him. He easily would have weighed two hundred - fifty pounds plus some change, but the bulk of it was muscle. His dark skin hid some of the wrinkles that adorned his face, and most everyone knew that out of all of them he was one of the few that had seem some of the earlier wars in unforgiving desert.

“Do you know Bob Marley?”

Ark looked at him like he was insane, “What does that have to do with this?”

The older soldier smiled, “Quite a bit, I followed the story you’re speaking about, and there are some similarities. See, Bob Marley was doing a free concert for Peace Aid. The night before he was to perform a man came to his brother’s house, shot him, and left him for dead,” the older soldier then smiled brighter, “The next night he walked out on that stage and gave a performance of a lifetime. When asked why he did what he did he gave the only answer that makes any sense to me. ‘The people in this world that are trying to make it a worse place are not taking a day off, how can I? Light up the Darkness.’.”

He grinned again at Ark, “Did you read this mornings paper?”

Ark shook his head. The older soldier tossed him a warm paper that had been in his back pocket. Ark unfolded it only to watch the every change ink to update the stories on it. On the front page was a picture of a Pink mare, sitting next to a man he knew from the few times they had met. He was in a hospital bed, but above it was the article title, “Wounded Spokesperson for the Equal Rights movement gives speech from hospital bed.”

“I believe your friend had the same mindset.”

Things quieted down a bit and then finally Ark nodded, “I suppose that you’re right.”

“Sarge you was telling us about you two starting to get together, why not continue?”

“Okay,” he replied

Ark’s Perspective

The clothes I had ordered for Fluttershy had arrived a few days before, and of course Fluttershy herself had helped host a small get together between myself and a few of my squadmates. She was certainly getting more used to the idea of the world she found herself in, and currently she seemed more interested in the world outside of her job, our apartment, and the streets between. I’d walked with her into some of the other parts of the city and one of those led us to an interesting situation.

“The Right Fit?” Fluttershy asked.

“Da, it’s one of those automated clothing kiosks. They are… okay, but depending on where you go the scanning booth might be a little, filthy.”

“It looks clean,” she replied before opening the door.

“Welcome to the Right Fit, where we have the Right Fit for you! Please, step into our body scanner, allow us to take your measurements, and we will ensure that we will have the clothes you want, at the size you need, every time!”

I watched as he stepped into the body scanner, the curtain closing off the sight of her nudity, and I looked away. I had made it a bit of a big deal about her being nude around the house, I really didn’t want to be attempting to oogle her while she was getting scanned.

“Measurements completed!” the annoying virtual voice said from within the booth.

Fluttershy stepped out after a moment, her clothing back on, and she walked toward the vending machines. I watched as she looked at the clothes, and after a moment she made a couple of selections, pressed her thumb against the thumbprint scanner, and then I heard the thump of two packages. I looked, for a moment, to see her holding a very lacy pair of white panties with a little red butterfly shaped bow on the front, and a similar bra with the same bow between the cups.

I saw her turn toward me, and I knew that I had been caught. I should have been the one to blush, but I wasn’t. Fluttershy’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, which was adorable, and she moved to cover herself with her wings.

“You okay?”

She nodded, “Y..Yes, I, um that is, sometimes a mare just likes to get something that looks… Oh my…”

I nodded, “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed.”

“Thank you,” she slowly uncovered her face, “Although, would you mind getting me a bag, I don’t want everypony to be looking at my… unmentionables.”

“A bag?” I ask, then go looking for the shopping bag receptacle, “Oh, yeah, they’re over here.”

I coax a bag out from the slot and hand over to Fluttershy; she drops the lingerie into the bag but the embarrassed blush on her face doesn’t leave.

“Is there anything else you wanted?” I ask her, “We got all day and even though you have a ton of clothes already, you could always get something you would think to get for yerself.”

“Mmm, okay,” Fluttershy replied, “let me look…”

All told, she picked up three new blouses, a cashmere sweater (she didn’t have one before,) a few new new skirts, and six pairs of leggings. When I asked her about the leggings, she said that she didn’t want to be exposed when the wind came down. Then I remembered the November winds that blow down into Central Park and Times Square and didn’t bother asking again. I’ve seen the girls from the parochial skills in their jumpers get an unexpected draft when those Northeast breezes come to town. I’ve even seen a few silver fox grannies get their scanties a quick blow dry during the mid August gusts.

We came out of the Fit Right© and started making our way to the MetrolRail. There was one not far from The Brownstone, up on West 4th Street, but we stopped by the house to drop off her purchases (which upset Tolstoy to no end), then made our way for a quick bite to eat at Pizza Mezzaluna. Well, maybe not a quick bite, but a good one, for sure. Then we got on the D Train at West 4th and took out to Coney Island. Some of the folk on board were either very curious or very weary of Flutters when we got on. Around this time, Help-mates® weren’t as popular or well known as they are now, so we get met with awkwardness throughout the ride.

As soon as we got above ground and into the park proper, Fluttershy had never seen one of the greatest (and oldest) amusement parks in the world. Her eyes went as wide as dinner plates and her attention would drift from one attraction to another.

There was so much to see that we never got on any of the rides except for the teacups, which in hindsight was probably more her speed than mine. It was a fun time, anyway, and we left to get some of Nathan’s Famous hot dogs. I don’t think we earned any brownie points when Flutters spat out her dog after the first two bites. I did warn her what was in them, but she didn’t buy it until after she bit into it. We left in hurry, for sure. We made our way back to the Stillwell Avenue train station and headed out for a tour of the Five Boroughs. As with every tourist, the first place we stopped to see was The Statue of Liberty. Flutters saw it on Liberty Island from Ellis Ilse and had to go there. It wasn’t quite rush hour yet for the tourists, so we we took the ferry out there. She listened to the tour guide rapturously and we bought a few tochkes for the house. Shy couldn’t stop playing with her Lady Liberty bobblehead.

Next stop was Grand Central Station, as we could plan our next location. Shy was adamant about visiting Manhattan proper, but I managed to convince her to wait until the end of the day, after sundown. Times Square was a vision, I explained, when after the sun went down. So, we got back on the train and made our way to the other Boroughs, firstly, Queens. We stopped in Umi Sushi (which was kinda pricey, but Flutters had some credits to her, so that helped.) She really enjoyed the food and she said it helped get the taste of of Nathan’s Famous off her tongue. We got a few stares from that comment and left promptly after paying the bill.

We then made our way Staten Island, which was well on the far side of town. We made a quick stop at the Black Horse Pub to satisfy Shy’s curiosity, but it was too noisy, even from the middle of the afternoon. We quickly made our to the Staten Island ferry and got on the first ride to The Bronx. We weren’t going to stay there long, but Shy had heard from some of her colleagues that there were Stacks out in this part of town; she wasn’t disappointed by the appearance of the “temporary housing units” laid out there. She was horrified by the conditions she saw of the people and animals there; she a charity case beagle puppy that was severely malnourished. She would have taken to her work, but they didn’t take in strays. Also, her owner popped up and he was none too happy about Flutters being so personable with his dog. I didn’t like the way this guy came off and we evacuated from the Bronx with all haste.

Making our way to Brooklyn was better and by this hour, the sun was getting ready to set. This was a better scene by far from The Bronx even though we were both getting mighty hungry by this time. We stopped by Joloff Restaurant, which I heard was still in operation and still slinging out Senegalese food. It was more exotic than I was fond of, but good nonetheless. Shy didn’t have any problems with the menu and had a hearty meal. ANd thankfully, they had recharge stations for cyberpros, so I was able to get my legs powered back up. The new batteries lasted longer than they should have, so I had Flutters remind me to send off a thank you letter to Pseudopod for the battery pack.

Our final stop of the night was Manhattan, and Times Square. Of course, we stopped by Madison Square Garden, which to Fluttershy’s disappointment was not what she thought it was. She did get to see the Knicks practicing and I had explain the basic dynamics of basketball to her. She told me it resembled a game they played back in Equestria, then she got quiet for a while. I decided it’d be a good idea not to press too much. We then walked our way down Broadway, which was quite the revelation for poor Shy. I think she forgot just how much she missed her old home by milling through the throngs of people and window shopping. My original plans had been to stop by places like The Met, The New York Public Library, The Chrysler Building, Radio City Music Hall, and Rockefeller Center, then make our way to the Empire State building.

We did get to see Times Square and it was more beautiful than I told Flutters about. She was in awe of everything, even though I could see she was overwhelmed by it all. The e-billboards were the ones that got her attention the most; she certainly looked the part of tourist with her Statue of Liberty ball cap on and her eyes wider than saucers. After she had her fill of the Square, we made our way to Madame Toussard’s. It was closed when we got there, but there was a holo-display of all the famous wax figures inside. She was even further agog and the status within and I promised her, one day we would go inside to have a gander.

We then went to see the Empire State Building. It was a bit of a walk, and I was getting tired from being on my feet most of the day, but Shy insisted we get the exercise. She then poked me in the side, giggling as she did side. I may have gotten some slight pudge during our time together, but I wasn’t a slouch by any means. (Most New York gyms didn’t have the facilities for cybernetic prosthesis users back then.) So we went down 7th Avenue until we hit West 33rd Street and made our way to the nation’s first skyscraper. While we made our way there, we saw a veritable rush of first responders heading in the direction of ESB. Paramedics, NYPD, NYFD, every major New York City network went rushing down there.

When we arrived at 132 West 32nd, it was to a crowd of emergency response crews and onlookers. New York is one of the few places in the world were suicide by drop was a common occurrence, especially now, but usually they try for smaller buildings with less security. The ESB is as iconic as you can get and the sec-con in throughout the building is top notch; you’d have better luck jumping from your apartment building. But still, there were whispered rumors of a jumper on The Empire State Building. Being a lifelong New Yorker, that kinda surprised me. We tried to get into a position where we could find out more about was going on but as soon as we get three deep in the throng, we got ambushed by TV news camera crews, reporters on scene shouting questions our way. Well, to be accurate, Fluttershy’s way.

“Excuse me, Miss-”

“Are you an-”

“Are you any relation-”

“Do you know why a Help-mate® would-”

Needless to say, the attention was beyond overwhelming for poor Fluttershy, so I had to step in.

“HEY!” I shouted, “You jerks need to settle down some and ask one question at a time! We only just got here and you’re going off like a mini-gun! Now can someone tell me what in The Hell is going on here?!”

“Sam Coleman, News 12; Miss, are you one of the Equestrian Help-mates?”

“Um, yes?” Shy answered, “Why?”

“George Sanderson, WABC, are you aware of one your own is making an attempt at suicide tonight from the Empire State Building?”

“Wait, what?” Shy said, befuddled, “What do you mean?”

“Bunny Usamo, WNYW, one of your fellow Help-mates has stated she is going to ‘fly’ off the Empire State Building. Any comment on that?”

“I don’t-” Flutters began, before a gasp was heard among the crowd. All eyes turned to the searchlight drowned top of the ESB, where a lone figure was now descending from the railing of the observation deck. I heard Shy gasp as well, until I heard a familiar raspy screech come of the jumper. As the she fell in and out of the lights, I could see a pair of flailing wings, a rainbow mane and tail, as well as a cerulean coat.

“Oh, my fucking God, it’s Rainbow Dash!” I murmured, then the fastest Pegasus in Equestria hit 32nd street pavement. I was for sure she was dead; the building was tall enough that a normal human would be dead on impact with the street. I saw the paramedics rush in and news cameras push in for glory scenes. When I heard one of the medics declare that, indeed, Dash was alive, both Shy and I sighed in relief. But even I knew, without looking at the broken form of prismatic Pegasus, that that mare would have a long road of recovery…

Shy was crying proper tears; I couldn’t blame her. Her best friend from child/foalhood was laying in the street, broken almost beyond all hope. It was a major miracle she survived the fall at all. Watching the fall, seeing the impact, I could practically feel how much it hurt Shy, and I didn’t blame her at all as she moved the direction of her friend. I went with her, moving between the cameras, the throngs of people, and near the emergency workers.

“What’s the virtual imager saying?!” one of the paramedics shouted.

“Three broken ribs, eight bruised, two cracked! Right humerus is broken in four places, right radius is broken in eight. Left wing coracoid is snapped, Left wing Humerus is really fucked up, internal bleeding, We’ve got to book if we’re going to save her life.”

The lead paramedic shook his head, “I know, and I want to, but you know the rules. Check her thumbprint, see if she’s insured, if not… we treat with a Dr. Housecall.”

“What the hell?!” I shouted.

“Sir, I don’t know if you have any connection to this… Lady, but without insurance, or a responsible party, we are not allowed to treat the victim beyond the level of help they would receive from a Dr. Housecall. Glossman regulations.”

I looked at Fluttershy, seeing how upset she was, and I couldn’t stand and do nothing, “I’m responsible for her. Here,” I said as I pressed my thumbprint into the reader, “Thank you sir, we’ll provide the best care we can. Expect the bill in no less than five billing days.”

With that they gathered Rainbow Dash up, only to ask if we wanted to accompany her. Fluttershy was already heading toward the transport, and I knew that I couldn’t leave it simply to her. I boarded the ambulance with her, and together we headed toward the hospital. I watched as the hospital we were headed to came up.

Bellevue was the oldest hospital in the nation, one that had been privatized for years before the Catholic Church had purchased it. I breathed a sigh of relief as we neared it. Yes, the hospital would be expensive, but it also meant that there was a social worker that actually met and worked with those without insurance. Even though Obamacare was still largely a joke it was better than nothing at all. I could only hope that the Church’s attending social worker would be able to help establish Rainbow Dash with some kind of healthcare.

We were inside in less than a minute, they barely did a triage before getting her back to a room. The attending doctor walked in, looked at her, and his eyes widened.

“Call Dr. Howard Fine down here right now. I need a surgical attending to help.”

I heard the sound, and even though this wasn’t the right situation the sound of the oldest gag ever placed in comics, television, and Medical drama sounded off.

“Paging Dr. Howard, Dr. Howard, Dr, Fine, Dr. Howard Fine.”

The scream when her wing was touched was enough for the doctor to talk softly to her, “Ms. I’m Doctor Henry Watson. You’re in Bellevue Catholic Hospital, and there are some serious injuries. We’re going to do everything we can to help.”

“Let me up!”

“Ms, please calm down.”

“Don’t tie me down please! Let me up! Let me up! Lemme UP!”

“Nurse! We need versed in here now!”

The nurse came in with a small syringe full of a slightly tinted liquid. He injected it into Rainbow Dash who began to slowly relax. The doctor looked over the Pegasus, then at the both of us.

“I take it that the three of you know each other.”

“She’s… She’s my friend,” Fluttershy sniffed out.

“Has your friend ever been suicidal? Expressed a deep feeling unhappiness, hell does she suffer from some kind of mental disorder?”

I looked at him and cleared my throat, “She was trying to fly.”

He looked at me, then back at her, and then shook his head, “Okay, I know about you, well your kind. I’ve done some studying. I’m not a great fountain of knowledge, but I do know that the winged ones, Pegasi right?” he asked and Shy nodded, “Can fly, but only after they’ve been exposed to ‘our world’” he said as he made quotation marks, “for a while. She obviously hasn’t.”

A moment later a pleasantly plump older man walked into the room. He smelled of kindness and instant diabetes. He looked her over, his eyes moved up to her own, and his attention went to the attending doctor.

“Did this patent give consent to be doped?”

“Dr. Fine…”

“No, did the patient give consent? Do you have it in writing, if not in writing is there at least three nurses, one of which that doesn’t like you, that overheard her give vocal consent?”

“No, Dr. Fine, there isn’t.”

The younger doctor looked like he was preparing for a long lecture, but instead the older doctor simply smiled, “Then you need to work on that. Write the patient a formal apology, find out if she likes chocolates, if she does order a dozen of Ferrero Rocher’s best chocolates, I’d suggest the happy housewife mix.”

Dr. Fine seemed to focus on the virtual imager for a moment. He then looked at Rainbow, his hands touching her abdomen, he felt around for a second before he turned toward Fluttershy and myself.

“I’m going to assume that the both of you are responsible for her. Which is fine, we’re going to take her up to surgery, and I am going to do everything I can to ensure that she makes it past the next forty-eight hours. If she does then her chances of making a full recovery will certainly increase. Unfortunately that puts both of you in something of a bind,” he smiled sadly at us, “All too often I’ve seen folks leave their loved ones at one of the various nursing centers in the city to recover. While they can get the therapy they need there, most of those places are… well the word horrific comes to mind. Personally, I’d suggest taking her home. I don’t mean to pry, but are you catholic?”

“Is that important?”

He smiled, “Yes, it is. If you are then you’d qualify to have a physical therapist come to your home and work with your friend. If you aren’t… The church will still sit it up with you, at a discounted price, but it can become quite expensive.”

“No need. I’ve got a friend that is a physical therapist. Thank you for the offer though.”

“You are welcome, and I am exceptionally glad to know that she will be taken care of. I’ll come and let the both of you know how things went.”

With that the plump man walked out, two nurses came in and took the bed Rainbow Dash was in, and soon they were out. Fluttershy leaned against me, her entire body shaking and shivering. I understood why she was sobbing. Her best friend just took a flying leap onto 32nd Street and was now a broken mess. She hadn’t been here long enough to adjust to the world and she tried to fly when she wasn’t acclimated yet. I was sympathetic to Flutter’s tears, sure, but at the same time, I wondered why Rainbow Dash was here at all. Help-mates, like Vogon Biotech’s, were neither cheap nor plentiful. And for Dash to turn up in New York like this… Questions did abound. I just hope she lived long enough for me to ask them.

Author's Note

Trillion thanks to Ron Jeremy Pony for the prompts he wrote in this chapter to help me get this thing done.