The Hollow Kingdom of Big Macintosh

Exhibit K

Hippocampy is the sort of pony who will often appear when most needed. Everypony knows at least one. Rarity claimed she appeared at the boutique earlier because she needed a dress, needed it for an important even or something. She needs it, but hallucinations need nothing. Hallucinations are not spoken about by other ponies.

When he leaves the boutique, Big Macintosh makes a beeline for the fountain, thinking he'd find Hippocampy there. He does not find her upon arriving at the nearly deserted center of town, but she did find him. She finds him right before he decides to leave.

"Hey there."

"What are you?"

Hippocampy is a sharp mare, at least sharp enough to know Big Macintosh's question is not a philosophical one. She discards any postulations the existence of her life or all life in general, despite the fact that her the very existence of her life is exactly what is on trail here.

"Excuse me?" she asks. "That's one heck of a way to say hello."

Big Macintosh apologizes, but he doesn't retract his question. He hangs it back over her head and glares down at her just as accusingly as possible. His query, while justified, goes unanswered. He could not see, until it was too late, that he did not have the high ground in this conversation.

"I'm a pony, obviously, you of all ponies should know that," Hippocampy says. "Why? What did you think I was?"

"Nothing."

"Oh?" Hippocampy pauses briefly and blinks a few times. Big Macintosh doesn't know it, but he has said too much. With one word, he has revealed everything. There are no secrets to withhold. "You thought I was nothing?"

"That wasn't what I meant," he says, trying to clarify. Misunderstanding is giving way to the truth in some strange twist, and Big Macintosh feels it coming. He backpedals furiously. "I didn't think you were nothing. That would be ridiculous."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Big Macintosh is not very good at riding bicycles.

"So why?"

"What?"

"No, why," she says once more. "Why would it be ridiculous for me to be nothing?"

"Are you saying you are nothing?" he asks, but Hippocampy gives him a look that tells him to answer the question no matter how confusing it may be. "Because everypony has to be something."

"Like what?"

"Like a pony," Big Macintosh tells her.

"Or what else?" she asks. "If the only options are pony and nothing, nothing being an impossibility, there shouldn't be any reason for you to trot up to me in the middle of the afternoon and ask me 'what are you?'" She has a point. Big Macintosh can only back into the corner to avoid being stabbed, but he's still trapped.

"There isn't anything else." He is lying, of course.

"So you were just being rude?"

"... Yeah." Big Macintosh is surpised when she starts giggling.

"That's probably more ridiculous than whatever you're trying to cover up."

"Well... you don't really know me," he says back.

"I won't get to know you any better if you keep lying."

Struggling feels useless. She has a counter for every retort and a retort for every counter. Big Macintosh has never been in such a compromising position, but then again he's never had a predicament like this. He isn't even sure if she is hallucinated or real.

"Let's try a different question," she says. "What makes you think I'm anything other than a pony?" Hippocampy opens herself up for scrutiny. She is open, vulnerable for attack, but Big Macintosh hesitates. He knows there are traps laid out for him.

"The first time I met you, you were sitting in the fountain." He indicates he scene of the crime directly to his left. "You were wearing goat horns."

"Sounds like something I'd do," she replies, baffling Big Macintosh. "I don't remember running into you around here."

"You mentioned that the second time we met."

"Yes, I do remember that thanks to your help," she says. Big Macintosh blushes and looks away, not because they kissed and got intimate but rather because he had a wet dream about this mare. He had conveniently forgotten all about that for a few minutes. "You seemed interesting, so I wanted to remember you."

There it is again: interesting. He had, in the past, hallucinated a pony who called him interesting as well.

"You can't be real."

"Oh?"

"You fell from the sky; I saw it and you confirmed it." This mare must be a figment of his imagination. Mares do not fall from the sky, not earth pony mares at least. Nopony falls from such a spectacular height and lives.

"I did?" she asks, to which Big Macintosh nods. "How so?"

"I told you I saw you fall and you said you didn't think anypony saw you fall. How do you explain that?"

"Well, if I hadn't done it I would be surprised anypony saw me do it for sure," she tells him. "Do you often see ponies who aren't real fall from the sky?" If there is a million bit question, that's it. Big Macintosh isn't sure how to respond. Lack of response qualifies as a "Eeyup."

She knows now, for sure. Even if it makes no sense for a stallion to see things that aren't there, it only makes sense for Big Macintosh to see things that aren't there. It would explain his outburst, Hippocampy falling, and his nervous behavior. Even if she is wrong, she can fully uncover the truth by pressing on.

"Does anypony else know?" This is her way of letting him know she officially knows.

"... Nope." For whatever reason, she kisses him right after he says this. The kiss is not tame, but a rough, invading kiss that forces Big Macintosh to take action in returning it. He is aware that they are in public, in plain view of everypony around the square. Even if there are only a few of them, he feels their wide eyed stares for the duration of the fierce embrace.

"Same place, same time tomorrow," she tells him after their tongues unravel. He doesn't know if his incentive is promise or blackmail; however, he remembers his horoscope. That will be reason enough.