According to the clocks, night had fallen. As was standard procedure, Iron Lung decreased the light levels in his facility to ensure proper circadian rhythms in the few patients he had received that day. It was published in multiple studies that proper day-night cycles were critical to the recovery process, as well as for averting a form of insanity that was all-to-common in the modern era.

The day had more eventful than normal. One miner had been bifurcated in a machine accident and subsequently repaired and returned to work; another had reached the terminal stage of silicosis and had subsequently had her lungs replaced with superior carburation devices. She was resting relatively comfortably in one of the rooms. She would probably not notice that while replacing her lungs, Iron Lung had taken the liberty to replace her spine with a cybernetic construct.

On this day in particular, Iron Lung was especially exited. One pony worker had recently succumbed to a neuro-degenerative disease caused by the minerals they were searching for, rendering him brain dead. His body, however, was quite alive. An equivalent pony, his body mangled beyond repair and currently kept alive by life support, had volunteered for an experimental brain transplant into the undamaged body. Tomorrow morning, once the patients- -or rather ‘patient’- -had rested, he would be performing the procedure.

The only thing that bothered him was not knowing the exact parthenogenesis of the neurodegenerative disease that was so common in the miners. In fact, the agent responsible was not even known. Nopony at the facility knew, because not even the supervisors knew what minerals they were actually searching for so many miles in the planet’s mantel. It was only a partially guarded secret that the mines were technically bankrolled by Thebe, and that she took first cut of whatever came out. There were whispered rumors, though, insane things from in the mines- -stories about finding strange things on the radar that looked oddly like some kind of underground city.

Iron Lung did not actually care much, though. He enjoyed his practice, and the leeway he was given in his research. As long as nopony died, he was usually allowed to perform whatever medical procedures he wanted. Still, he missed the rainbow-maned Pegasus that had been brought to him by an exceedingly wealthy wanderer; she had been his greatest work by far, her body rebuilt from nearly a pulp with hardly any new organs whatsoever. If only she had been available for follow-up studies.

As he walked through his darkened, empty clinic, focusing on the exact set of motions he would need to make during tomorrow’s procedure, he suddenly felt a strange feeling. That in itself was doubly strange, because Iron Lung was an equidroid. By definition, they had no instincts, and were not known for being anymore perceptive than the sensory equipment they used allowed them to be. Still, something was not right.
Iron Lung stopped in the hallway and paused, trying to analyze the feeling. It was as though he some highly compelling reason not to walk forward into the darkened hallway, as if he was perceiving danger. His spinal column felt a powerful tingle, and he imagined that if he had a mane it would be standing on end. Following an internal differential program, he realized that he was experiencing the symptoms of fear.

Then the lights flickered. They did not return completely, but at the far end of the hall, Iron Lung suddenly saw a figure who had not been there before.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to see the figure more clearly by adjusting his retina systems but finding that it was for some reason almost impossible for him to localize in his vision, “I do not recognize you as one of our employees. Are you in need of medical treatment? If you are, this is not a private hospital. You will need to…”

He trailed off as the figure started to move. Something in Iron Lung’s mind suddenly switched into a state of full-blown panic. The creature approaching him was not a pony, nor was it any creature in his database. As it moved, however, he was able to see that it was dressed in flowing robes of yellow.

Something about its motion was wrong. It moved upright, as though it were bipedal, but its motion was inconstant with something having two legs. Iron Lung wished he could see under its robe, to know what horrendous manner of appendages were able to propel it- -but at the same time desperately wished not to know.

The figure reached one of the blinking lights that still worked, and Iron Lung saw it clearly. A figure dressed in tattered yellow robes with a blank yellow mask and a heavy, rusted iron shackle around its neck. As Iron Lung watched, it raised one of its hands and produced a sign. The whole universe seemed to shudder in response.

That was when the fear finally overcame Iron Lung’s core programming. He backed away, preparing to run, to call security down on this entire hospital- -when he bumped something wooden. He turned slowly, and found himself looking up at the luminescent green eyes and mutated, armored skin of a pair of pony werewoods. Until then, he had only read about cases of laurelanthropy- -and he knew that in their current state, it was far beyond treatment.

They both put their wood-covered hooves on him, holding him down- -or trying to. Iron Lung was larger and substantial stronger than they were, and knew that he could easily bypass them. He was preparing to do so, when one of the nurse AI’s bodies stepped out into the hallway.

“Doctor?” she said, confused. “Have we received new patients?”

The creature in yellow stopped, and although its head did not move, Iron Lung saw that its full attention had suddenly fallen on the nurse. The creature shuddered, and seemed to lurch forward. From its back, a thick, root-like tentacle was produced, one covered in leprous, decayed yellow skin that caused Iron Lung’s programming to twist and nearly shut itself down.

The yellow creature moved the tentacle quickly, and stabbed it directly into the back of the female equipony’s neck.

“No!” cried Iron Lung. “You leave her alone!”

The nurse equidroid’s body shuddered and released a garbled digital noise that was the equivalent of screaming. Then it looked up at Iron Lung.

“Unfortunately,” she whispered in her own voice. “If he…if he speaks in his own language, we will all die…”

“What are you doing to her? Let her go this instant!”

“He can smell it,” said the possessed equidroid. “He can smell it, and he wants to know where it is. Where is it? Why don’t…why don’t I remember?”

“Where is what?” demanded Iron Lung, pulling himself free of the wearwoods. “Please. We don’t have any money. If you need medical assistance, drugs, even, I can- -”

“His wounds cannot be healed,” said the nurse equiroid. Even through the forced calm of her voice, Iron Lung could tell that her AI was not disconnected from that body. She was in pain. “Never healed…but he knows. He knows so much…”

“Then just tell me. I do not understand!”

“Order,” said the female equidroid after a moment, herself looking confused, as though she did not fully understand the meaning of the word itself. “The enemy. He smells it. It was hear. The scent is weak, but the King sees all.”

“Order,” said Iron Lung, rapidly running the word through his internal database. He found nothing of merit at first- -but after several microseconds discovered several extremely old articles concerning a form of anti-entropic magic commonly called ‘Order’. “I- -I don’t understand. You mean the magic, don’t you?”

The creature in yellow nodded.

“But all we treat here are miners! There is no Order here!”

“Why can’t I…why can’t I remember?”

Then Iron Lung understood. “Because…because I erased it from your memory.”

“What?” asked the nurse, seemingly hurt.

“A patient a week back. A blue Pegasus mare with a unique rainbow main, and tail. She was badly injured in a flight accident, I helped her. She was with- -a chiropteran with horns, and a pink she-demon with a bird, a phoenix. They asked that I erase the medical records after they left.”

Iron Lung did not know why he was telling them this- -but he knew that he had to. If he did not, something bad would happen, but more importantly, something bad was already happening. His loyal nurse, the AI he had secretly loved for years, was in pain, and he needed to get her released as soon as he could, to save her from this monster.

“The King remembers this mare,” she whispered. “For he has watched, for so long.” She smiled- - not in a way that anypony aside from another equidroid would be able to see, but enough that Iron Lung could tell that she was being forced to. “And the King thanks you. He thanks us. For our help, and by the grace of…of Lady Vale, we will receive a reward.”

“Reward?”

“We get to live!”

The lights flickered again, and Iron Lung felt space seem to distort. When the lights restored, the creature in yellow was gone, and so were the werewoods. The nurse was left standing in the dimly lit hallway.

“Doctor?” she said. “Is something the matter?”

Iron Lung raced to her and took her in his robotic arms. “No,” he said.

“Doctor?” she asked, confused.

“I love you, Ratchet. I always have.”

“Oh,” she said. “Iron…”

She did not say anything, but returned his embrace. Iron Lung was so relieved that he had been safe, and wondered if perhaps that creature had somehow known. He did know something darker, though. He had done the unforgivable, and violated doctor-patient confidentiality. Although his beloved nurse AI was safe, those ponies were now in terrible danger.