The Hollow Kingdom of Big Macintosh

Exhibit G

Chores melt into another early afternoon at Carousel Boutique for Big Macintosh. His routine is practiced, solid, and assuring. Doing the same thing day after day keeps him grounded in reality, and it keeps his hallucinations lofty. His mind never conjures up anything mundane, or if it does he has yet to realize it. One way or another, he maintains his outward appearance of normalcy.

Once again, Rarity is too focused on what she's doing to strike up a conversation. Big Macintosh doesn't mind. There isn't any need to ask her questions about what's she's been up to since their school days. Although he's fallen out of touch with many of his old schoolmates, he is aware of Rarity's exploits through his sister. Inversely, he is aware of Applebloom's exploits through Cheerilee, the only other pony from school he hasn't become estranged to in the past years.

"So, how's the farm?" Rarity asks, shocking Big Macintosh out of his cloud of peaceful reminiscence. He lands less than gracefully in a pile of prefabricated answers and truths inadvertently retained.

"Fine."

"How's Granny Smith?" Rarity doesn't ask about Applejack or Applebloom, knowing full well how they are.

"Fine."

"Everything is just fine then?" Rarity asks, almost playfully. Big Macintosh knows he is not doing a good job of making conversation, but it never has been one of his strong points. Maybe when he was younger, but he discarded that skill for some much more practical social practices such as brevity, courtesy, and tact. "That's just fine then." Rarity is much better at making conversation, even from the veritable social chaos of Big Macintosh he can feel a universe of topics exploding with just a little prod.

"Eeyup, just business as usual."

"Not much changes with you, does it?" she asks, but she knows the answer. Nothing with Big Macintosh changes, not outwardly at least. There isn't much internal change to speak of either. A desire to change stirs within him merely at the suggestion of change.

"Eeyup."

"We're not little fillies and colts in school anymore," Rarity says. "Have you given any thought to starting your own farm with your own family?"

"Nnope." He hadn't. He scarcely thought much about the topic of romance or getting away from Ponyville. That would be too dangerous for him. The best he can do in the way of romance is paranoia over that state of his affection's existence and the best he can do in getting away is just fantasizing about what lies beyond the borders of Ponyville.

He went to Manehattan, but only once. His family was visiting his Aunt and Uncle Orange, but the trip did not go over with Big Macintosh. The city was so dynamic and new that it possibly tripped some switch in Big Macintosh's mind that caused a frenzied panic of vivid hallucinations.

He nearly suffocated in his imagined flooding of Manehattan, but before it even got that bad he did not suspect that the water in the streets could be a problem. The first day he stepped across puddles and watched ponies pull carts through the shallow pools in the city streets. The third day, the smell of fresh rain on the pavement disappeared under a foot of water, but what really kept ponies off the streets was the heavy rain of the day. He had to swim to his bed that night. By day five Big Macintosh refused to leave the upper floor of his Aunt and Uncle's apartment. He was afraid of the rising tide, but his parents and relatives weren't even phased by it. He just thought it was normal for this city. He watched the carriage boats float by.

"That's a shame really," Rarity says. "I don't remember you having a special somepony at any point in school either. Just not something that interests you?"

"Nn-... well, I find it interesting, I guess," he replies. A tiny galaxy in this avenue of thought had developed. The first lifeforms on its planets got together and drew up plans for primordial ooze.

"So you really didn't have anypony back in school?" she asks. Big Macintosh looks down at her, only briefly before he reminds himself of his reality.

"Nnope."

"Oh. I didn't have anypony serious back in school either. I don't think it's because I'm too picky, but I think it's because there wasn't anypony around I wanted to pick. I tried some ponies on for size, but that's never a good idea. Ponies are not articles of clothing." Rarity's hooves move slowly, but her speech is animated. "It's a bad analogy, but if there isn't anything that appeals to you in the store you should look somewhere else. That's why I've always wanted to go to Canterlot. I think ponies there might be similar to me."

"Is that something that's important to you?" he asks. Rarity looks up at him for a second, confused. "Similarities, I mean."

"Yes, very important. I think it isn't wise to look for somepony who is completely different from you; you'll both be heading in different directions or wanting to head in different directions."

"Makes sense." Big Macintosh considers two trains running parallel to one another. At some crossing one train turns into the other and all the passengers die in the resulting crash. The trains had different and conflicting destinations. "I don't think I could be with somepony who would try to take me off the farm."

"Right, and I wouldn't want somepony who wouldn't let me design." Rarity says this without looking back up at Big Macintosh. While he was thinking, she started working in a fervor again. She has needles in her mouth and there are several different swatches of cloth levitated over hear head. Big Macintosh feels a strip of silk tighten around his neck.

They finish ahead of schedule, but the work passes by in silence. It ends and Rarity carefully extricates Big Macintosh from the newly constructed ensemble.

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

"Eeyup."