Twilight Sparkle was wandering around Ponyville one afternoon when, distracted by watching Applejack walk by, she bumped into a pony. Startled, she took a few steps back, looking to the pony before starting to apologize. “I’m sorry, I…”

Then she trailed off. She’d definitely bumped into an azure pony, coat somewhat lighter than the mane. And that’s all she was certain of. It wasn’t that the pony was blurry or indistinct; she could see it perfectly clearly. It was just…

While Twilight tried to figure out what was wrong with her vision, the pony introduced itself. Its name was Meme, and it was passing through Ponyville. It hadn’t expected to run into Twilight Sparkle - literally - but it was pleased as punch that it had.

Twilight frowned. Was something wrong with her ears too? The pony had definitely spoken, but she had the strangest feeling that she hadn’t actually heard anything. But that was silly. It definitely had a voice. She just… couldn’t remember what the voice sounded like. Or the exact words Meme had spoken.

Meme wondered if Twilight was feeling all right. Then it looked concerned, asking if it was hurting her somehow.

“What? No, I -” Twilight said, then squinted at Meme. She glanced at Meme’s cutie mark, seeing a cutie mark. Then she closed her eyes, gritting her teeth.

“I can’t see you,” she said, starting to tremble. “I can see everything else, but when I try to look at you, it’s like I forget what eyes are. You’re doing something to my head.”

Meme looked shocked, stammering that it wasn’t trying to hurt her. It just wasn’t very good at existing.

“How can I tell that you’re shocked?” Twilight blurted, stumbling backwards, horn starting to glow. “My eyes are closed. What are you doing to me?”

Meme stepped back as well, ready to sprint away. It had made a mistake coming here; it needed to leave before it hurt anypony else.

Suddenly, a large tarp dropped over Meme, which Pinkie Pie grabbed onto, holding Meme in a tight hug. “Don’t. Do. Anything,” she said, looking unexpectedly serious.

Meme tried its best to not do anything, but it was difficult. It had no idea what was going on, and Pinkie Pie insisted it not do anything, including not doing anything.

“Pinkie?” Twilight said, moving her head as if she could see through her eyelids. “Is that you? What’s going on?”

“You can look now,” Pinkie said, briefly shooting a glare at the tarp before resuming her usual sunny expression. “It’s not doing anything.”

Twilight cracked one eye open, then opened both eyes, staring at the tarp. “What is it?” she said, still tense, but somewhat less so with Pinkie present.

“Oh, it’s an idea in the shape of a pony,” Pinkie said, idly waving her hoof. “It wants you to remember it, because that’s how it reproduces; ideally you’ll think about it and produce creative works based on it, thus propagating it further.”

Twilight gave Pinkie an odd look. Aside from the weird thing she’d said, there was the weird way she’d said it, as if someone else’s words were in her mouth.

“Anyway,” Pinkie said, “it’s not very good at actually saying and doing things instead of just making you remember it saying and doing things. It just needs practice. I’m gonna take it over to Sugarcube Corner and see if I can bake it the concept of some cupcakes.” She tucked her head under the tarp and swiftly put Meme, tarp and all, on her back. “See you later!” she said, before pronking toward the building in the distance.

Twilight stood there for a moment before saying, “What just happened?” It had all been very confusing, like waking from a dream where she’d been reading a book, only she couldn’t remember what the book actually said, just what it was about. It said something that the most normal part of the experience had been Pinkie Pie, and even she’d been acting a little bit off.

Shaking her head, Twilight started walking again, but she couldn’t help glancing in the direction of Sugarcube Corner now and again.

She just couldn’t the encounter out of her head.