Crystal Pony
Admiral Biscuit
I'd inadvertently picked a really good hotel—not in terms of its accouterments, but rather its location. Being fairly close to the Manehattan train station meant that I could do lots of ponywatching out my window when I was in my room, and the bar constantly had new ponies coming and going.
Although it did feel kind of like cheating to meet ponies in a bar, and I made a note to myself to explore a little bit more going forward.
Most of the seats were already taken, although there were a few tables near the back that were fairly unoccupied, so after I'd gotten my drink I walked over to one that had a cluster of mares on one side of it and open seats on the other. I thought that since there was a group of them, they wouldn't be intimidated by me.
Indeed, that turned out to be the case. The four of them, I found out, were cheese-makers from Landias, and had come in the hopes of getting export contracts at some of the fancier restaurants in Manehattan. They called their cheese Chabichou, and one of them had a sample that she let me try.
It smelled vaguely like goat, but after I'd gotten over that, it was pretty smooth, and it paired well with the white wine that they were drinking.
We talked for a little bit about exotic or unusual foods on Earth and Equestria, and they complained about the difficulties in opening new markets, and we might have continued in that vein if another pony hadn't entered the bar and sat down near our table.
I didn't notice him right away—I was caught up talking with Bonne Bouche—but eventually it made it through my thick skull that the other three sisters were all looking in his direction while trying to pretend like they weren't.
So of course that got my interest.
He was a crystal pony, and it was true what I'd heard about them: you could see right through him. Not completely clearly; he wasn't entirely transparent, but I think that was more a case of his coloration than anything.
Since it was rude to stare, I kind of gave him a few sideways looks and at the same time tried to focus my attention on my companions, which turned out to be a nearly impossible task, since they too were distracted by him.
It wasn't too long after that my four new friends had to leave—they said that they had an evening gala to attend, although before they left, they insisted on taking a picture with me. Luckily, their camera had a self-timer, and with a bit of fiddling, they managed to balance it on a pair of wine glasses.
After they'd departed, I moved over to the crystal pony's table, ostensibly to free up the larger table I'd been at for other ponies, although the truth was I just wanted a closer look at him, and what better way than to be sitting right across from him?
He was probably curious about me, as well, because he had kept shooting surreptitious glances in my direction after my companions had left.
Most transparent animals are only mostly transparent—you can see internal organs or bones or something—but not in his case. I had to assume that he had bones and nerves and organs inside him, but those were as transparent as the rest of his body.
He introduced himself as Neighls Bohr, and insisted that I should try a small glass of crystalberry gin, which he said was a favorite of crystal ponies.
It had a gin-like taste, which I could have done without, but it also had the curious property that it stayed cold despite the temperature of the bar, and I ultimately wound up purchasing a bottle of it to experiment with in my hotel room. Neighls didn't know why it was like that, but said that that was how you could tell the fake stuff apart from the real thing.
Interestingly, after I drank it it did warm up, I think. I imagined that if it stayed cold, I would feel it in my stomach, but I resolved to get a small ice cube and verify that theory when I had a chance.
I hadn't known why he'd wanted a table to himself until his dinner arrived, and then once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it. The gin was clear, but his hayburger wasn't, and it was like he was chewing with his mouth open only more so: I could see the food being masticated inside his mouth, even though I couldn't see any teeth. And then the bolus of food traveled down his neck and I started to wonder if he'd been starving before he came to the bar, because I started to think about what else I ought to be able to see.
Of course, he noticed my look, and he somehow blushed—another thing I couldn't even begin to understand.
“It's why I picked a table by myself,” he admitted. “I'm sorry.”
I assured him that I wasn't all that bothered by it, which was only half a lie. It was equal parts disgust and wonder, to be perfectly honest.
We didn't talk while he was eating, and I managed to make the observation that somewhere around his chest, the food began to fade out and by the time it got to where I assumed his stomach probably was, it had completely vanished.
I was completely boggled by this, and since it seemed to be happening more quickly than his body could actually break down the food and digest it, it must have had something to do with his nature, that whatever made him transparent did the same to his food.
It wasn't until I was back at my hotel later that night that I started to wonder what happened at the other end of the process.