Miscellanea

“What is it?” Rarity asked.

“It’s an experimental new mixture. All I know about it is that it is extracted from the entrails of a rare animal,” Red Cell answered. He unwrapped a syringe, pumped the brown liquid into it, pricked the right leg of Sweetie Belle and slowly injected the fluid. “The tests have demonstrated that it works very well against corticonephrite,” he added.

“When will we know if it’s really that effective?” inquired Rarity. She was thoughtfully contemplating the body of her sister, who was lying on the hospital bed; Sweetie Belle seemed lost amidst large white sheets, so immaculate that her mane was almost dull in comparison.

“Come back tomorrow morning,” the doctor advised. “If she reacts positively to the mixture, she might even be able to regain consciousness by then.”

Rarity nodded. “I suppose she’s not aware of my presence, is she?”

“No. There is nothing you can do for her right now. Better go home, have a solid rest if you can and turn back tomorrow. She couldn’t be more cared for anyplace else.”

Rarity sighed, thanked the practitioner and left.

❦

The next morning, Rarity was welcomed to the cold, impersonal room by the glee of her sister. The doctor was there, too.

“Hi sister!” greeted Sweetie Belle. Her voice sounded frail and quavering, though.

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity exclaimed joyfully. “I am so happy! How do you feel?”

“I feel… pooped, but better. I suppose I just need some rest.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was miraculous?” the doctor bragged, butting in.

“I can hardly believe it,” Rarity said. “Which lab produces this panacea?”

“Cartea Inc.,” the medic replied.

“Cartea!? Really? Its CEO is one of my best clients. I am going to thank him personally.”

❦

“The practitioner said it was miraculous, and I totally agree,” Rarity said, sipping a cup of rare tea.

“Indeed. We consider it one of the greatest breakthrough in modern pharmacology,” Blue Pill, Cartea’s CEO, acknowledged. “I’m so happy it helped your sister recover.”

“I was told it is extracted from the organs of a rare animal. Is that true?” Rarity asked. “Can you tell me more? I’d like to know.” She batted her eyes somewhat coyly.

Blue Pill dithered for a short while. “All right,” he finally said, sighing, “but mum’s the word! We could face severe prosecution if all the details surfaced.”

“Why, of course, dear!” Rarity replied in a warm and sultry voice.

“You know,” Blue Pill began, pulling a drawer and grabbing a ring of keys, “here in Canterlot we are subject to stricter rules than in the outer lands, where the authority of the princesses is – hmmm – less palpable.” He stood up, rounded his desk and exited from the office, inviting Rarity to follow him. “The animals we use to prepare this molecule are protected: the specimens are scant, and it costs us a foreleg and a hindleg to buy them from shady smugglers.”

Rarity did not answer. They stepped into a lift, and Blue Pill, using one of the keys, activated a lock switch. The cabin went down and down until it reached the fifth basement level. They walked out and ambled along dingy stairs and corridors. At last, Blue Pill stopped in front of a heavy metallic door. He picked up another key; the lock clanged, and the door hinged open.

“Please go ahead,” Blue Pill said.

Beyond the door was a gloomy, nondescript room. Right in its middle, a cage had been put up, in which three stretchers had been installed. Tied on each of them were rangy beings, of pink complexion with short strange manes, two black and one blond, and four long legs terminated in – hands? Their “barrels” were curiously swollen. Their eyes were closed; maybe they were sleeping? In their mouths, flexible tubes hanging from the ceiling had been stuffed. At this sight, Rarity froze; was it fascination or horror, she couldn’t decide.

Blue Pill turned towards Rarity. “The liver is a wonderful organ,” he explained. “If you slice a small part from it, it regrows spontaneously. We feed those animals with a brew enriched in concentrated nutrients, so that they develop hepatomegaly: an oversized liver, in common words. Then, every so often, we remove a gobbet, and it regenerates. Over and over. And from those gobbets, we extract the molecule that saved your sister’s life.”

Inexplicably, Rarity found herself drawn to the cage. She came closer, mesmerised, and silently examined one of the creatures, the one with a blond mane. On the right side of its belly she saw the long, thin festering welt.

At this very moment, the eyes of the animal opened wearily. Their green irises roved around for a few seconds until they locked on Rarity. In that glance, the unicorn read infinite distress, grim resignation and unquenchable hatred.

She averted her gaze.