You glance at the clock. In clear red LED numbers it read 2:17 am. Less than a minute has passed since you last checked it. You groan and put your head in your hands. An overnight shift on the surgery ward seemed nice, pleasant even. Sit on your ass, go over your notes, and wait for something to happen. A nice, quiet night. But you weren’t even halfway done and the quiet lullabies playing through the ward were starting to grate against the inside of your skull, even more than your neighbors nightly arguments.
It was enough of a bonus for a full bottle of Adderall, though. You gritted your teeth. It was worth it for your stimulant of choice, the precious pills that carried you through your college classes. You had finally found someone selling it for a reasonable price, one low enough to be a good deal without raising law enforcement based suspicions.
“LaRue, right?” The ward nurse stuck his head in the doorway of the nurses station.
“Yes!” You scrambled to your feet. “What do you need?”
He chuckled softly. “Easy there, you’re going to wake them all up. You bored?”
“A bit.” You replied.
"Bored enough to do my rounds for me? Off the books?”
“Off the books?" Nothing was off the books in medicine. Ever. “Why?”
“I forgot to bring lunch, I’m fucking starving. I’m gonna run down to Burger Fluff real quick, I can get you something too if you want.” He clasped his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture, smiling hopefully.
“The one on third?” you asked. He nodded. “There’s a gas station just around the corner from it, grab me an energy drink.”
“You’re the best!” he tossed you a folder. “Here’s the files, if you need to note anything I’ll sign off on it when I get back. My badge is in there, you’ll need it to get into Donor’s room”
“Wait, wh-”
“Be right back!” Before you could properly ask who the hell Donor was he was jogging down the hall.
“… Why would I need your badge…” You asked no one in particular. Flipping through the folder you found his badge, declaring him Kennedy Riesling. At the bottom corner there was a small blue symbol, squinting at it; it seemed to be a lock with a white number 2 in the center. High security? You wondered to yourself whether 1 would be the highest or lowest level of security while you attached the badge behind yours on your reel.
Flipping open the folder you were tossed, you started down the rows of pens. Each fluffy got its own padded kennel against the wall with everything they could need and attachments for IVs and monitoring equipment. They were arranged in two rows, one up at waist height and another below it that would require you to crouch to see. The floor was nowhere near capacity, so the bottom row was entirely empty. You checked the name of each fluffy as you flipped to their file. A blue colt named Remmy slept, bandaged heavily after an attack from a hawk. An older green mare the files called Francine wheezed softly, recovering from an allergic reaction to a nut-filled cookie. A tiny yellow foal was bundled up with blankets and wires, her file noted a severe heart defect.
Rounding the corner, a familiar name was typed across the top of the next file. Urbi, the brown mare you stabilized the other day. She slept soundly despite the metal traction device keeping her spine aligned. Flipping through her file you found notation showing her digestive tract had been more damaged than previously thought, causing some complications during a spinal replacement surgery. You checked her IV, making sure the low grade antibiotics continued to flow freely.
The rounds were a simple check over of every fluffy in the room, all you had to do was confirm that they were indeed still alive and unchanged since the last round. Seems like he could have just done it before going to get himself lunch. You reached the end of the row of kennels and flipped to the last paper clipped packet.
DONOR #352
GIGAFLUFF
… The hell was a gigafluff? Next to the last kennel was a door,marked clearly with “STAFF ONLY. SECURITY CLEARANCE REQUIRED.” You tapped your borrowed badge against the scanner, and with a soft chime the door slid open.
Resting upright in a harness apparatus was a fluffy white pony. A regular sized pony, almost as large as you, not the small biotoy you were expecting. It was pillowed, with metal rings extending from each of the points where a limb should attach. A black mask covered its face, featuring a large blue button and a bundle of wires and tubes leading up into a black box on the wall. You stepped into the room, staring in wonder, and let the door slide shut behind you. This was… unlike anything you had ever seen before. You looked back to the file, searching for some sort of explanation. The records noted that he was a “universal blood donor” and had fallen, ripping out a port on his neck. A large wad of gauze wrapped around his neck, just below where the black mask was anchored to a tight black collar.
Almost unconsciously, your hand reached out and pushed the blue button. A small whirr of mechanics and the mask lifted off the creature’s face, a length of medical tubing retracting and pulling out of its mouth. Its face was more horse-like than a normal fluffy, but more snub nosed than a normal horse. Its eyes were a bright pinkish-red, almost like an albino rabbit, and looked expectantly at you.
“…hm?” You stared in shock as he spoke. “Nice wady nee’ somting?”
“I…” You trailed off, unsure what to say. “… are you Donor?”
“Yus!” He smiled, wiggling in his harness. “Donah am Donah!”
“… Good.” You looked back to the file. “How are you… feeling?”
“Onwy hab widdwe huwties.” He said. “Nu wike stitchies.”
“Let me take a look then.” You slowly unwound the bandages from around his neck, revealing a line of blood crusted stitches down the left side. They were puffy and pink, normal for healing sutures. No signs of infection. You made a quick note on his file about it, trying not to think about how fucking weird this was. On a table next to him were a few packages of sterile gauze, and a white tub with a prescription sticker marking it as specialty heal gel for him. You smoothed a small amount over the stitches and began to reapply the bandages.
“Tankoo nice wady, Donah feew much bettah!” He said as you finished up.
“No… no problem.” You muttered, trying to reconcile what you were interacting with. Fluffies got big, you had seen a fluffalo during a training, but not this big… right? Donor smiled pleasantly as you looked him over. His fluff was thick, short, and the most pristine white you had ever seen on a fluffy. He had an ostomy bag collecting a small amount of waste on his side and a small bald patch around it, as if the fluff just naturally didn’t grow there. The hooks at his shoulders held him upright, which given his size must have been putting tremendous strain on the connections but… he seemed unconcerned by them. His white fluff was seamless, almost as if he was born with the metal hardware installed. But that was impossible.
…Right?
“Can Donah gu back to Dweamwand nao, nice wady?” He asked, snapping you back to reality.
“Dreamland?”
“Wiww nice wady put maskie back on?” Donor clarified. “Donah wan gu back to dweamwand.”
“…Yeah, sorry.” you clicked the big button again, activating the mechanisms again.
“It otay, nice wady! Gu-bye!” he said as the mask lowered, happily opening his mouth so the tube could snake back down his throat.
You stared at him for another long moment. “Universal donor” plus a port on his neck must mean blood donation. You had guessed the hospital had its own blood supply, but you figured it would mean a group of in-house fluffies not…. this thing. He seemed so… happy. Pillowfluffs were usually miserable, forever lamenting their lost “weggies”.
You pressed your badge against the door again, and it released you back into the ward. That was Donor #352… Could there be more? Possibly even hundreds, going off that numbering? What was that mask, what did it do? And what the hell was Dreamland??
Your mind spun as you plopped yourself back in the chair at the nurses’ station, pulling Kennedy’s badge off your badge reel. Heavily bio-engineered creatures were not something you were expecting to deal with tonight. The nurse had spoken of Donor as if he was a normal part of the job… something you were expected to know about. Were you supposed to know about him? Perhaps you shouldn’t ask.
You put your feet up on the desk and pulled up a trashy tabloid site on your phone, looking for something meaningless and removed from anything you were thinking of. Something to keep your mind occupied until you could go home and drink about it.
A night shift after a normal day shift earned you a full 24 hours off, which you enjoyed. You met up with your new dealer, a young college guy. He sold you your beloved stimulants and you two went your separate ways.
When you returned to Maison de Fluffy, you had a bounce in your step that you hadn’t felt since you started. You were bright eyed, the events of your night shift forgotten until you stepped up to the staff door and heard an unfamiliar buzz.
[ENTRY APPROVED, WELCOME MS.LARUE. PLEASE REPORT TO ROOM 503 IMMEDIATELY.]
The fifth floor? You had never actually been to the fifth floor. Residents generally stuck to the first floor where all the dirty work was done. Occasionally you had been tasked with cleaning the operating rooms on the second floor, or a pen on the third, but you had never been any higher. According to the tour you received, the fourth floor was mostly storage rooms with the small psychiatry wing, and the fifth floor was entirely offices and conference rooms where the higher ups of the hospital did their business. What could the fifth floor have for you?
Donor. Your borrowed ID badge.
Your heart sank as the door slid open. Higher ups wanting to talk to a resident meant nothing good. You marched to the elevators, and, you were sure, your unemployment.
Your hand hovered over the dark wood door as you tried to bring yourself to knock. On the brass plate, under the engraved 503, was the name MAJ. Anderson. You couldn’t imagine the ass chewing someone with the rank of major could provide, your anxiety forming a barrier between you and the door. Maybe you should just leave. If you never showed up again they would have to understand that you quit eventually right? It’s not like using someone else’s credentials was something you could come back from, that was a super fire able offense. You had been told that even holding the staff door for someone could lead to termination, this was a major violation of security.
“Come in, Miss LaRue.” You jumped out of your skin as someone spoke from the other side of the door. Your shaking hand rested on the brass knob, and with a deep breath you entered the lion’s den.
“Have a seat, Miss.” A broad shouldered man in a crisp suit gestured to a wooden chair across from him. He smiled widely, you tried to return it as you sat down. “I just want to talk to you about your last shift.”
“I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, it was completely unacceptable behavior and I will never do it again. I should have just waited for him to get back, and- and-” the words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could stop them.
“Easy there.” He held his hands up. “You’re not in any trouble.”
“… No?” your fingers were digging into the armrest of the chair, your knuckles turning white.
He chuckled softly. “No. You were given an order by a higher up, and you followed it. We reviewed the cameras, Mr. Riesling gave you his badge while he left the ward, correct?”
“Yes… but I still-”
“And he had asked you to take care of that particular patient, correct?”
“Yes… sir.”
He sat back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “I’m a military man, Miss LaRue, I tend to look at things through the same lens. Oh!” He leaned across the desk, extending his hand. “Didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Major Marc Anderson.”
You shook his hand as firmly as you could, hoping he didn’t notice how hard you were shaking. “Mary Sue LaRue.”
“Great to meet ‘cha.” He grinned as he sat back in his seat. “As I was saying, I tend to look at things through a green-tinted lens. You were given an order, and you followed it. Not your fault it was a bad order.”
“…So…” You paused, trying to make sense of this. “I’m not fired?”
“Not at all. Mr. Riesling and I will need to have a little chat, but don’t you worry about that.”
With a sigh of relief you fell back in the chair. “Oh god, thank you.”
“You’re one of our best and brightest, Miss LaRue. You’ve got a future, I don’t want to get in the way of that! However,” his voice suddenly took on a sharper tone as the smile dropped off his face, “you saw something that you weren’t supposed to. We use some… let’s say proprietary equipment here, things we don’t exactly want getting talked about outside of the hospital. I’m sure you can understand what I’m asking of you.”
Too keep your mouth shut, he meant. “Of course, sir. I haven’t told anyone about it.”
His cheery demeanor reappeared in an instant. “Then you have nothing to worry about!” He stood and offered you a hand to stand up. “Head back out there, don’t worry about anyone giving you trouble for being late.” You were gently shoved out the door. “Go make me proud!”
You stood in the hallway, reeling from that emotional roller coaster. With a deep breath you gathered yourself, and power walked back to the elevator. Best and brightest, he said. You had skill, and you had places to go from here. One little secret wouldn’t stand in the way of your ambition.
