Inside the quarantine chamber in the Lab sits three ponies. Young unicorn fillies, eyes darting around in excitement and confusion.
On the other side of the glass sits three more ponies. Young unicorn mares, eyeing the fillies with panic and fear.
I look at the empty container in my hands. A frown settles on my face as I remember gathering the tears of the last unicorn to exist on Earth. They were no older than a filly, bleeding from the stomach, eyes spilling tears that I had gathered and sent off to the Odd Squad Academy for testing and storage.
It would be the last time any Odd Squad Doctor or Nurse collected unicorn tears, until the day when a surprising number of unicorns were found to be residing in an alternate dimension.
Looking at the red button that sat to the right of the chamber, I go over, flick upwards the lever that sits below it, and press it.
Slowly, an image begins to take form. One that I, as a human, cannot see. One that had been crafted by the more technologically-inclined Doctors and Nurses. One that is so cursed, so psychologically damaging in nature that by Odd Squad standards it is downright immoral.
The screams. Those were always the worst part. For my many years of practicing in the medical field, I had heard many screams. But the screams of ponies from this alternate dimension were different in a way I couldn't place.
Still, the tears are falling down into the buckets below. That's all that matters.
"Make it stop!"
"Not her! Please, not her! She's all I have!"
"Cosmia! Cosmia, baby, hold on, Mommy's coming!"
One mare tries to move, but some invisible force keeps her pinned. Well, invisible to her, anyway -- in reality, it is nothing more than a simple mixture I had whipped up from a few blobs and some pizza dough, and then modified by Odd Squad Scientists to be invisible to the naked eye.
I glance at the bullpen. Agents milling about, not hearing the screams and the cries and the tears plinking into the buckets, not seeing me performing what amounts to torture on six innocent ponies.
The mare ceases movement after realizing her fate, her eyes glued to the glass. Then, the lever under the red button is flicked downwards.
The screams of the fillies commence.
Their tears are like cartoonish waterfalls, I note. Cascading in a mix of wonder and beauty, twisting and turning in the air as the droplets find their way to the large bucket that sits in the corner.
I know what they see. That imagery, too, was crafted by the same Odd Squad Doctors and Nurses. Even my boss, Ms. O, strong-willed and immortal as she was, was horrified when she first saw it. She told me not to play it, not even for the unicorns.
But the vote by those in Precinct 13579's Medical department was unanimous.
The buckets are three-fourths filled. In spite of this, the frown remains on my face. Smiles were reserved for when I had reached complete satiety.
One of the fillies tries to get up and move, the same way the mare did. She finds her hooves rooted to the ground by some mysterious force, but unlike the mare, she keeps struggling. I watch her for several minutes, until she finally gives up, slumps back down, bows her head, and cries in silence.
Don't worry. It's for the greater good. You'll be helping people.
To drown out the screams and sobs, I focus on the irony of it all. To help people, adults and Odd Squad agents alike, I have to do the complete opposite of helping. It's pitiful, really, to have to rely on hurting a land's people for my own land's personal gain.
But if I succeeded in this extraction, it would be an absolute breakthrough for the Medical department. Not just the Doctors and Nurses here, but those around the world, at every Odd Squad Precinct and in every Odd Squad Headquarters. To bring such a cure back into existence and have it be used as a regular antidote again was no easy feat. I had to make it happen.
I am going to make it happen.
All was done now. I took the buckets and dumped them into four-quart containers, realizing that I had only extracted eight quarts in total. A rather dissatisfying amount, one that would barely last me a month with the recent influx of patients.
But that was okay. According to Ms. O, there were more unicorns to be found in that alternate dimension. She could get me more if I needed some, she said. I think she had an ulterior motive for going there, but if she did, she wasn't so keen on revealing it.
"Take these upstairs to the Medical Bay and place them in the refrigerator." I order, handing two of my Nurses the containers. They do as they are told, while I press the red button to turn the images off.
I open the quarantine chamber, pry the three fillies free, and march down to the Recycling Room to throw them in the bin designated for unicorns. Their eyes are bloodshot and their bodies are rigid, just as unicorns always were after the extraction. The three mares are much the same way, not speaking or moving as I free them and carry them to the bin.
I keep one, however. The mare from before, as a matter of fact. It was personal tradition for me to keep a unicorn once I had extracted tears from a group of them. None of my Doctors or Nurses understood why, and I had no intention of telling them.
The mare is laid on the wooden table inside the Medical Bay.
Tears pool in her eyes as she stares at me.
I grab another container and sit down. Copious amounts of saliva bathe my tongue.
"Don't worry. This won't hurt a bit."
Author's Note
