Club Vinylby BlazzingInfernoChaptersTo The ClubMusic Is All I've GotConcerto TuesdayLittle Pony StepsOctavia Melody's Escape from Electric MountainVinyl Scratch’s Big AdventureTo The ClubOctavia could see the symphony. Notes from each instrument glided past each other in rigid yet beautiful patterns, like the interlocking gears in a clock. Melodies and countermelodies arose out of the notes, giving shape and context to each sound. The symphony, the synergy arising from the perfect lock-step motion of every string and valve, was breathtaking, but only for a moment. The moment ended, as it always did, with their new conductor rapping his baton against the podium. The music faded into dissonance as his voice echoed through the empty concert hall. “Is it too much to ask that the brass section come in on time? I have it on good authority that this piece is one of Princess Celestia’s personal favorites, and if you can’t get it right we might as well pack up and go home! Does anypony here even remember why this concert matters?” Octavia sighed. The paycheck would be her answer. There wasn’t any other reason she’d put up with a week of tension-filled rehearsals that concluded well after midnight. The conductor, a blue earth pony by the name of Perfect Note, gently set down his baton. “Charity. That’s why we’re here.” This was the calmest tone he’d used in hours. “The proceeds for this concert will help fund music education in the Canterlot public school system, and the Princesses themselves will be in attendance. Now if we could all turn back to–is there a problem, Mrs. Melody?” Octavia tensed up. She hadn’t even realized she’d been yawning, at least not until Perfect Note’s fiery gaze was fixed on her like a spotlight. “Not at all, Mr. Note. I was just… well it’s getting late, Sir.” Everypony in the orchestra looked to the clock on the far wall. It was a few minutes after one in the morning. He threw his baton on the ground. “Then go home! Come back when you’re ready to take your craft and profession seriously.” “But, Sir–” “Go home!” She was back in grade school and the teacher was sending her to the principal’s office. There wasn’t any point in arguing, not if she wanted to come back at all. Some of her neighbors watched her pack up her music while others buried their noses in their own. The concert hall, a room expressly designed to carry music to every ear with perfect clarity, magnified every sound she made. The rustle of her songbook and the creak of her music stand rang out like cymbal crashes against the backdrop of tense silence. Just thinking about how many eyes were fixed on her made her blush. Somewhere else in the orchestra, chair squeaked against the hardwood floor as another pony stood. She already knew who it was, and it slowed her rapid heartbeat. Concerto made no effort to work quietly. Somehow he made packing up his violin an even louder affair than her cello. “Goodnight, everypony. See you tomorrow night.” Perfect Note shut his eyes and sighed. “What a surprise.” “What, that I’m leaving, or that nopony else is?” Gasps and a few murmured words spread through the orchestra. Octavia fastened the clasps on her cello case and slipped the strap over her neck. She stepped past the other cellists and, without looking back, waited for her husband to join her. By the time they reached the door at the back of the stage, several other chairs were squeaking against the hardwood floor. Apparently rehearsal was adjourning early tonight. Wind blew down the streets as Octavia stepped onto the sidewalk with Concerto by her side. Summer nights in Canterlot were rarely this cold. There weren’t any taxis, or ponies for that matter, on the roads this hour. Walking would get them home by two at best. She looked down the road and sighed. “Why do we put up with this? Perfect Note can’t treat professional musicians like foals.” “I think he just did.” “I should just quit. It’s not like I’m ever going to be first-seat cellist now anyway, not with him in charge. I’ll just play through the charity concert this weekend and leave for good.” The familiar weight of her cello disappeared. She glanced over and saw the case balanced on his back. In response she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Con, and thanks for walking out with me.” “I could always club him with my violin. You could hide the body in your cello case.” “If he singles me out again then I’m all for it. Maybe Princess Celestia will have mercy and let us share a cell in the dungeon. They probably serve better food there anyway.” “Come on, Tavi, your cooking’s not that bad.” “Yes it is. You married a mare that can’t cook, Con, admit it. I guess it’d help if I wasn’t tired all the–” She yawned again and tripped. The cello case, pulled off balance by the strap around her neck, slipped off his back and dragged her down into a water puddle. “Tavi! Are you okay?” He pulled the massive instrument away and helped her up. Her trademark white collar and pink tie were stained brown. She brushed the grime out of her fur and shook her head. “No. No, I’m not okay.” “Are you hurt?” She nodded and pointed to her chest. “Right here. I love music, Con, but I don’t think I can do this anymore.” “I know music’s a hard life, but we knew that when we started.” “Maybe we thought we did. Remember when we got married, when you said if we didn’t have time for each other we’d find a way to make some?” “Of course I remember.” “It’s time to start making it. This past month we’ve had gigs and rehearsals every single day. When we’re not earning a living there’s chores to do, meals to make, and then we’re too tired to do anything else but sleep. There’s never any time for the two of us to just be… us.” He rubbed his nose against her neck. “You’re absolutely right, let’s change that right now.” She giggled and pushed him away. “It’s still going to take an hour to walk home.” “We’re not going home.” “Huh? What about dinner? What about the piles of laundry on the bed?” “We’ll deal with all of that tomorrow. Right now we’re on a date.” “At one in the morning?” “It’s a big city, I’m sure some places are still open. We’ll eat out, crash at some cheap hotel, and take a taxi home in the morning.” She sat down on the cello case and massaged one of her hooves. “That sounds lovely. Is there something close? I don’t care what we eat, just so long as I don’t have to lug this case around for hours.” “Well, there is one place just a few minutes away…” “Perfect! Let’s… wait, you don’t mean–” The steady thump of bass beats could be felt from their vantage point across the street, and the flashing neon sign could probably be seen from the moon. There was nothing subtle about Club Vinyl; not its lights, not its music, and certainly not its namesake DJ. Octavia put a hoof over her eyes. “Hay. You did mean this place.” “Like I said, it’s close. They do serve food here, and considering who we know we’ll probably get in for free.” “And be deafened shortly thereafter.” “Sorry, Tavi, you married a stallion with diverse musical tastes. The next time we’re out on a One AM date you can pick where we go.” She grinned. “Fine, fine, we’ll do it. At least I’ll never have to hear Perfect Note’s screeching voice again.” “I could still club him with my violin if he gets out of line.” “Right now I’d be more concerned about Vinyl.” The club’s interior was the opposite of the concert hall. Strobe lights cast their pulsing glow on a dance floor, the tiny round tables that edged it, and the huge speakers hanging far above. The DJ booth, situated on the far side of the dance floor, was the brightest spot of all. Colorful lights panned across the stage, showing glimpses of the spinning turntables, glowing synthesizers, and the brown pony in the booth bobbing his head to the beat. There were only a few ponies on the dance floor, and even fewer at the tables. Octavia set her cello case next to a free table and sat on top of it. In a dive like this she half expected somepony to steal it, although she had no idea what a pony who frequented a club like this would do with an instrument capable of making actual music. Concerto joined her a few minutes later with a tray balanced on his head. “Hungry?” He had to shout to be heard at all. “Starving.” He set the tray down and joined her on the cello case. Their date night feast consisted of carrot dogs and hay fries. “So, what’s a nice mare like you doing in a place like this?” She batted her eyes and smiled. “Well, after my dashing husband rescued me from the fire breathing conductor, he insisted we come here for a bite to eat instead of walking home. Personally I think he’s just trying to get out of doing the dishes.” “Is it going to work?” “Perhaps, it depends on what else he has in–” A white unicorn with a blue mane and magenta sunglasses wrapped her hooves around them. “Well if it isn’t my main mare and her totally awesome hubbo! What’re you doing up late on a school night, Tav?” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Hello, Vinyl.” Vinyl Scratch broke off the hug and sat between them. “That’s all you’ve got to say to your old roomie?” “Could you tell me where the bathroom is?” Vinyl laughed and stole one of her hayfries. “Yeah, yeah, I miss you too. So what’s up?” “Our rehearsal ended late and we don’t feel like walking home, so we’re here… partying.” “Finally! You two should come by more often. Can you believe how empty this place is?” “Yes, and it’s lovely. At long last there’s a rave where I can walk across the room without bumping into fifty other ponies.” Vinyl pulled off her glasses and wiped a tear away. “Yeah… I guess there’s that.” “Vinyl… are you all right? I’ve never seen you cr–” “Just something in my eye is all… Wanna eat upstairs in my place? I swear it’s quieter up there.” Octavia looked to Concerto, who promptly nodded. “Sure, Vinyl. Lead the way.” Music Is All I've GotAgainst all expectations, and possibly the laws of acoustics, the loft apartment above the club was indeed quiet. Either that or the pungent odor from the dirty dishes in the sink was doing as much damage to Octavia’s ears as it was to her nose. She didn’t need to ask who lived here; the smell alone made that obvious. It smelled like the tiny room she and Vinyl lived in prior to her getting married. No amount of cleaning, she’d quickly discovered, could fully expunge the odor that radiated from Vinyl’s lifestyle of late nights and loud music. Compared to those days, being married to Concerto was like living in an air freshener factory. Vinyl made some room for them at the kitchen table, primarily by shoving debris onto the floor. “Just like old times, right Tav?” For the third time that night, Octavia set her cello case on the floor and sat on it. “Is everything all right, Vinyl?” “Everything’s cool I guess… just… hey you two want some soda? I’ve got tons in the fridge.” “Vinyl…” “How about you, Mr. Tav?” Concerto tried not to laugh. “I’m good. Do you two need a minute? I could eat downstairs.” Octavia set her tray on the table. “Just eat your carrot dog before I eat it for you. I’m starving.” Vinyl pulled over a chair of her own. “You can stay; it’s cool.” He joined his wife on the cello case and started on his now cold hayfries. Octavia wolfed down her carrot dog and, with a doe-eyed look, convinced him to give up part of his own. Vinyl wiped her sunglasses on a nearby rag. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Guess I should talk already.” Octavia nodded. Once again a tear trickled down Vinyl’s face. She wiped it away and put her sunglasses back on. “I’m gonna sell my club.” Concerto was the first to choke. Octavia struck him on the back while she coughed out a few words. “You’re what?” “Poured every bit I had into this place… but you saw how empty it is down there… nopony cares about this music scene anymore. Not even me.” “But… your club? This was your dream, Vinyl. When we were roommates you always talked about how much money you were raking in.” “Yeah… times were good back then. This place was packed every night. You’d be rubbing flank with three ponies at once just to get near the stage. And the music… oh don’t get me started on how I could spin those beats.” “Then what’s changed? Why is the club empty?” “‘cause I just can’t hack it anymore and I’m tired of trying. In a couple years this scene probably won’t even exist… all the kids will be so bored at night they’ll go to bed early.” Octavia bit her lip. “Despite how good of a thing that may be for society at large, I still don’t see what’s changed. You’ve been a DJ since we met in college, I can’t believe you could suddenly lose your special talent.” Vinyl shot out of her chair and threw her glasses across the room. “Well I did! I lost it… whatever it was. Besides, how’d you ever know I was any good? You hate dance music.” Octavia stood too, bringing them nose to nose. “You know I don’t hate it, I simply prefer a seat in a concert hall to being part of a sweaty mob at a rave. Regardless, I’ve seen you perform; you can practically set crowds on fire. Why do you think I asked you to DJ our wedding reception?” Vinyl shrank back into her seat. “I dunno… pity? Maybe just to tick off your parents?” Concerto laughed. “Well that second one definitely happened.” Octavia glared at him. “Not helping.” “Sorry. Seriously though, Vinyl, Tavi’s right. You’re a natural performer.” Vinyl shook her head. “Was… now I’m just a bum. They’ll probably turn this place back into a ballet studio or something.” “Have you tried changing things up, playing something totally new?” “All the time… doesn’t work. I’ve been writing new tracks since forever. My last big hit was the one we all played at your wedding.” The memory alone made Octavia’s ears ring. “You mean the time you sped up a classical masterpiece and added your electric twists to it?” “Yup. I used to play that record every Friday! Ponies would pack this place just to hear Vinyl’s Fifth Symphony again, but my new stuff just doesn’t cut it. I just need to bug out before I get kicked–” The apartment’s door creaked open and a brown unicorn stallion walked in. “Vinyl, you got any more ketchup for the dispenser downstairs?” Vinyl buried her head in her hooves. “We blew it all last weekend, LP… there might a bottle in the fridge or something.” He walked by the trio of ponies, opened the fridge, and stuck his head in. The sound of bottles and cans getting pushed around soon followed. “What’re you doing up here anyway? You’re due on the decks in ten and I’m not covering for you again.” Vinyl sighed and nodded. “I hear ya… Just give me a few; I’ll be there.” He extracted himself from the fridge with a ketchup bottle and a few soda cans in his magic grasp. “Cool.” “Catch you later, babe. Kiss?” She stood and puckered up, but he walked by as if she wasn’t there. “Buy some ketchup tomorrow before we open. Don’t forget again.” “Wait. LP? Wanna meet my fr–” The apartment door closed before she could finish. She clenched her teeth and looked away. “Tav, Concerto, that’s LP.” Octavia’s gaze was fixed on the dollop of ketchup on her plate. “So… he’s your–” “Not anymore he isn’t. Might as well dump the lousy stallion and career at the same time.” “Would… would you like to stay with us for a while? You know, until you get back your hooves.” Vinyl leaned back in her chair and crossed her forelegs. “Eh, not really.” “Well… what we can do?” “Dunno.” “Come on, Vinyl. Give me a something to work with here. If I could magically revitalize your club I would, but I doubt two concert ponies can help with that. What’s electric dance music need with a cellist and a–” Concerto stood. “What if… what if that is what it needs? What if we really could revitalize the club?” Vinyl laughed. “No offense dude, but classical and jazz isn’t gonna fly downstairs.” “That’s not what I mean. You were just talking about how the piece you played at our wedding was a big success, and you had the two of us play with you for that one.” “Yeah, but that was a gimmick track. I wrote it for your wedding, kind of like a gag gift. Nopony brings instruments like yours to a dance club.” “Why don’t we try it? If you’re already thinking about selling the place then what’s the worst that can happen?” “Somepony throws a tomato in that pretty face of yours.” He shrugged. “Hey, then you’d have some ketchup. What if the crowd loves it? Cello, violin, and synth. Either we save the club or run it into the ground.” “Heh, you’re right, it can’t hurt.” Octavia tapped him on the shoulder. “Con… do you really want to do this? Can we, for that matter?” Vinyl dove to the ground and grabbed her front hooves. “Please, Tav, I need this bad. If this works I’ll split all the profits, I’ll do your laundry, I’ll… ugh I don’t know. What have I got that you want?” “My hooves.” Vinyl released her and scrambled backwards. “Right, right.” “And I’m not going to just play a few chords over and over in the background while you spew out high energy noise. If I’m going to drag out my cello again after five miserable hours of concert rehearsal, I want to enjoy it.” “I’ll run all the songs by you first, and I’ll even draw up sheet music.” “No.” “Huh?” “I’ve seen your penmanship, Vinyl. You compose, I’ll write.” “Deal. You guys can crash here tonight and we’ll pick some tunes tomorrow morning.” LP pounded on the door. “Scratch, get your tail down here already!” Octavia sighed. “Con, would you be a dear and club LP with your violin?” He shook his head. “That’s only for soft-headed conductors; I’d break it if I went around clubbing thick-skulled ponies like him.” Vinyl snickered. “You got that right.” Concerto TuesdayThe following night, Octavia took a fresh look at the club’s DJ booth, this time assessing it as a potential stage and not just a glowing technological oddity. There was a little space to the left of the speakers, but not much. If she and Concerto both played their instruments there they’d be sandwiched between the back walls and the edge of the stage itself. Everything about this place, including what the bass notes were doing to her full stomach, told her the same thing. “I don’t think I can do this.” Concerto, who was standing next to her, nodded. “It’s a tight fit up there.” “It’s not just that… I was serious when I talked about giving up performing. If I can’t take one blue-faced conductor yelling at me how am I supposed play impromptu backup music in a seedy dance club?” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “Three reasons. We’re helping out a friend, in a place like this we’ve got nothing to loose, and, face it, this is going to be fun.” She stared at the grin on his face. “Fun?” “It’ll be just like our wedding reception. Wasn’t that fun?” “Yes, but… well…” “You never thought you’d do it again?” “Exactly.” She closed her eyes and tried to picture the wild party that followed their wedding. If only she could channel the euphoria she’d been running on then. He kissed her again. “Electric dance music isn’t really that different from what we normally play. It takes the improvisation of jazz and adds a wider selection of instruments.” “Except jazz has been maturing for decades. Compared to that this music is primordial ooze. My fillyhood music teacher would have a coronary if she knew I was even considering playing in a place like this.” He squeezed her a little tighter, and then let go. “Just think of it this way: Perfect Note would too.” Her ambivalence vanished. That tiny bit of stage space was more than enough for an execution, symbolic or otherwise. “Death by bass… that’s almost too poetic.” Vinyl Scratch stepped into the DJ booth amid wild cheers from the crowd. Her voice, amplified by the club’s sound system, shook the air like thunder. “Hello Club Vinyl! Who’s ready to crank it up right before closing time?” The cheering from the crowd grew louder. “I’m gonna need more than that!” Ponies jumped up and waved their hooves in the air. The more noise they made, the wider Vinyl’s smile became. The lights illuminating the stage pulsed with ever increasing speed. “Who’s ready for a couple brand new tracks? Who’s ready for some special friends of mine to take this to the next level?” Vinyl couldn’t possibly inject more hype into the atmosphere. Instead she pointed into crowd and the spotlights followed her gesture. Suddenly Concerto was standing under a dozen beams of multicolored light. Octavia, who’d been left in the shadows, grinned. “I guess that means you’re first.” “I guess so.” As good as Vinyl’s stage presence was, she would always prefer that of her husband’s. He trotted up to the front as if he was joining a world class jazz band instead of trying out a solo act in front of a rowdy crowd. The lights pulsed in time with the bass beat as he alighted the stage, stepped up to a microphone, and placed bow to string. She’d never tire of listening to his violin. Then he started to play. She did her best to tune out Vinyl’s contribution to the song, which did little to improve it. For a moment he’d be play a few familiar notes, something halfway related to the classical piece he and Vinyl had picked, and then things would get weird. Vinyl would throw in some random electric flourish and Concerto, rather than pause until the next recognizable measure, would play on. His bow flew across the violin strings while she scratched the record, and Octavia’s ears, mercilessly. They’d thrown another musical masterpiece into a blender and the result was exactly the sort of dissonant, chaotic mess that she’d expected. Five minutes later, the bizarre tune faded into the sound of screaming. The crowd was jumping up and down with more enthusiasm than ever. Her fate was sealed; the first song was a success, which meant she was up next. Concerto did a quick bow and then beckoned her towards him. She moved on stiff legs, trying to keep her focus on him. “I have to do this… for Vinyl… for Con. It’s just another performance, just pretend it’s a jazz club, just follow the notes on the page, just follow the…” All too quickly she was in the front and Concerto was pulling her onto the stage. He took a final bow and stepped into the shadows. Now she was the pony under the flashing spotlights with nothing but a classical instrument and a microphone for company. Vinyl looked over at her from the DJ booth and pumped a hoof in the air. “Let’s do this!” Octavia bit her lip. “Yes… lets.” They’d spent hours choosing what to play, finally settling on three simple pieces that she and Concerto knew by heart. All she had to do was put bow to strings and let muscle memory do the rest. In a few minutes the song, and her good deed, would be complete. A familiar melody arose from the constant thump of bass. She closed her eyes, leaned against the cello, and began to play her part. Each string hummed its own sweet sound that she could feel more than hear. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all; as long as she could feel the vibrations in the cello she could tune out the rest of the world. That’s all she needed to do. Now if only the rest of the world wasn’t so noisy. She clamped her eyes shut and willed her ears to do the same. She was playing in a storm filled with bass note thunder and multicolored lightning. The sheet music in her mind blew away in the cacophonous wind, and she began to sweat. Dragging the bow back and forth was almost too much work, but she couldn’t stop now. Stopping meant that Perfect Note was right, that she didn’t take her profession seriously. “I’ll show you serious! I’ll show you craft!” Her teeth were clenched, her muscles were on fire, and she didn’t care. So what if it she was playing in a sonic thunderstorm? If she dug deep enough she’d find the root of the music, the ancestral link between this modern drivel and the classical masterworks that it had descended from. Her bow stood still. She held her cello tight and listened to the other sounds, the ones she had no control over, resonate through the instrument. Perhaps she’d been right all along; this was indeed a thunderstorm. It was loud and crazy, but not random. She pictured herself on a hilltop while the rain came down. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and wind whipped through her mane. That was the surface of the sound, the notes that any foal with an untrained ear could pick up. She needed to go deeper. The notes weren’t random, for starters. A hundred different melodies were darting in and out of the music all at once, like blades of grass blowing in the wind. She needed harness that current, the invisible force that moved all of the tonal elements along. Bass pulsed through her and, two measures later, the vibrations of her cello joined them. Storm or symphony, it didn’t matter so long as she was part of it. She wasn’t a fifth seat cellist following the sacred movements of the conductor, she was the music’s driving force just like Vinyl. Soon she didn’t want the music to stop and, by her and Vinyl’s unspoken decree, it didn’t. One song faded into the next, and a violin joined the sonic storm. Their third song, the one they’d agreed to all play together, rose up in place of the last. Concerto was on the hillside with her now, adding a new and welcome voice to the music. She couldn’t help smiling. This was yet another thing they hadn’t had time to do lately: play a duet. While this wasn’t their normal fare, she couldn’t ignore the raw energy and emotion racing through her. She’d been a fool to think she could quit this life. So what if Perfect Note hated her? So what if he fired her after the charity performance? Membership in the Canterlot Orchestra wasn’t her reason for being a musician, it was an excuse. She was a musician because music was life, just as much as eating or breathing. A quick riff from Concerto’s violin reminded her that he was on that list too. He was more than her husband; he was her musician, and she was his. Tonight, when they finally found a place to crash, she’d have to find a way or two to remind him of that. They were still on a date, after all. Little Pony StepsTonight’s rehearsal was almost too calm. Two days had gone by since the whole orchestra walked out on Perfect Note, an event whose repercussions were still being felt. Late night marathon rehearsals were a thing of the past, as were the screaming fits and public shaming of orchestra members. Tonight’s rehearsal was everything Octavia expected of her profession, although only half of what she wanted. The other half would come in thirty seconds when Perfect Note would utter the now familiar phrase that never failed to make her smile. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” Her sheet music was folded and packed before he could set down the baton. She forced herself to slow down and look professional while he made a few closing remarks. “Our charity concert is just two days away, which also happens to be our last performance for two months. I’ll have the material for our next concert series mailed to you well before then, but be sure to take some for yourselves and your families as well. Enjoy your time off, you’ve all earned it.” Somehow she’d been expecting him to cut all of their pay and burst into maniacal laughter. Was this really the same pony who’d thrown her out for yawning? Concerto tapped her on the shoulder. “Ready?” “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.” Perfect Note was packing up his things when she approached him. He didn’t seem to notice her until she cleared her throat. He didn’t bother looking up. “Yes, Mrs. Melody?” “Sorry to bother you, Sir. I just… well I wanted to apologize for things getting out of hoof the other night.” “The error was mine. You have nothing to apologize for.” “Well… be that as it may I still–” At last he looked at her, and the lone tear in his eye stopped her mid sentence. “Do you have any foals, Mrs. Melody?” “I don’t, Sir.” “I have two, one of which will be starting school in the fall. I’m gravely concerned, Mrs. Melody, about the lack of music appreciation in Canterlot’s school curriculum. Please understand that I’ve been pushing all of you so hard for their sakes, not my own. I want this charity concert to do more than raise a few bits for a noble cause; I want to help future generations of musicians find their talents and for every pony to have a respect for the artistry of classical music.” Her mouth hung open. “I… I understand, Sir. I’ll do my best to make that a reality.” He smiled, more out of relief than joy. “A conductor could ask for nothing more. Have a good night, Mrs. Melody.” Concerto was waiting by the door with both of their instruments packed and ready to go. “You’re smiling. We still have jobs, right?” In response she kissed him. “Yes. Are you ready for our nightly date?” “Always; especially if it ends like the last few have.” She blushed and tried to hide a smile. “Let’s just get through the, shall we say, public portion of our performance first.” They ran all the way to the club, or at least as close to a run as their heavy instruments would let them. The line at the club’s door stretched around the block. Fortunately they no longer had to wait in line, or even use the front entrance. A small key, freshly liberated from the now-evicted LP, opened a door on the side of the building that led directly to a staircase. One flight later they were in Vinyl’s apartment, basking in its perpetual stench that, Octavia had to admit, wasn’t so bad once she got used to it. She opened the fridge and looked over their stockpile of groceries. “What would you like for dinner, Con?” His reply from the next room was barely audible. She crossed the kitchen and poked her head into what had become their home away from home, or at least the place where they slept off their late night performances. She snuck up behind Concerto and hugged him. “Dinner time, Con. What do you want? Just name a dish and I’ll find a way to ruin it.” “What if I cook tonight?” She arched an eyebrow. “I do believe you said my cooking isn’t that bad.” “I just thought you’d like a break, a chance to put up your hooves and let your lazy husband do some work.” “Says the pony who carries my cello more often than I do.” He winked. “How about this: let me spoil you a little. I’m trying to be romantic here.” “Why don’t we make dinner together? That way it’s both of our faults when it doesn’t turn out.” “Sounds great.” He walked past her towards the kitchen, but she hesitated. Her conversation with Perfect Note, and the implication it carried, was still on her mind. “Con?” “Yes, Tavi?” “When do you think we should start a family?” He turned back stared at her with wide eyes. “I… uh… I don’t know. I mean we both work so much just to make ends meet…” “…but you do still want one, don’t you?” “Of course I do.” “Why are you bring this up n–” She kissed him, long and slow. “Whenever it happens, we’ll make it work.” The apartment’s door flew open and Vinyl galloped in. “Tav? You guys are here, right?” “We’re in here. Is everything okay?” Vinyl was at the room door next, and her huge smile said it all. “We’ve gotta get down there; the crowd’s totally pumped. I think somepony saw you guys walking in.” “We’ll be down as soon as we eat. It’s only twelve thirty; we’re not scheduled to go on until one.” “Just grab an apple or something and get moving, this is Club Vinyl’s biggest night ever!” Five minutes later, four more than Vinyl would’ve liked, they were downstairs and on stage. From their elevated vantage point they should’ve been able to see the club’s entire ground floor. Instead they could see only one thing: ponies. The place was jam-packed with ponies, and all of them were cheering in anticipation of what they knew was coming. Octavia glanced at Concerto and grinned. Inside of a week they’d become rock stars. “Ready to make some music?” Time was irrelevant, and sheet music was merely a suggestion. Octavia played to Concerto, Concerto played to Octavia, and Vinyl supercharged the result. Their first night’s performance had only lasted ten minutes, whereas this one closed in on an hour. The last note, a long and deep purr from all three instruments, had every member of the crowd screaming for more. Vinyl moved the spotlights out over the crowd, and then pulled them back to her friends on stage. Concerto accidentally looked up into the lights and did his best to smile through through the pain and temporary blindness. To him the crowd was invisible, and his wife was merely a shadow. A shadow that, strangely enough, was at the edge of the stage on two hooves brandishing her bow overhead. Octavia’s voice, amplified by the microphones placed around their instruments, echoed through the club. “Respect the arts!” She retreated to his side a moment later. “I can’t believe I just… I mean I didn’t think the microphones would–” The crowd responded before he could, and they were chanting in unison. “Art! Art! Art!” He grinned and kissed her on the forehead. “Nice.” “But… why are they…” “I think you just became a club icon.” He could almost feel her blushing. “Shall we make our exit?” “Yes, before I faint.” Octavia Melody's Escape from Electric MountainThe club always looked different in the morning. Octavia made her way down the staircase and let her bleary eyes wander. The tables were filthy, the floor was littered with trash, and the stage was covered in so many black cables it looked like a snake pit. This place was, without question, owned and operated by Vinyl Scratch. She stared at the stage and began to remember the previous night. “Did I really shout–” Vinyl popped out of the DJ booth. “Respect the arts! Yeah, you totally did. It was awesome.” Octavia stumbled backward and ended up sitting on the floor. “Vinyl! Did you have do to that?” “Morning, Tav.” “Ugh… morning. Why are you up at a decent hour?” Vinyl dove back into the booth. Cables slid across the stage and the tip her tail flicked in and out of view. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to fix the sound. There’s a buggy cable in here somewhere that I can’t ever find.” “You do… sleep, don’t you?” “Not when things are going this good. We pulled in some serious change last night. I’ll divide up your share this afternoon.” “Yes, about that… How would you feel about doing a charity performance? Our orchestra is doing a benefit concert this Saturday, and I’d love to do the same thing here.” “Charity? For what?” “Funding music education in public schools.” “Lame.” “Vinyl! You can’t possibly–” Her head appeared again, and she was grinning. “Got ya. Sure we can do a charity night. This Saturday, right?” “If you please.” “You got it. Can you help me move these boxes?” Octavia climbed onto the stage and peeked into Vinyl’s hiding place. To her surprise there really wasn’t much room in the DJ booth, at least not in its current state. Vinyl’s head was buried somewhere underneath one of the synthesizers and her body was contorted around several boxes of records. “Really, Vinyl, how can you work in such a cramped space?” “There’s no other way, Tav. I gotta have as much music on me as possible, just in case the crowd wants to hear a something different.” “And where precisely am I helping you move these boxes to?” Vinyl wriggled herself free and gestured to the back wall. “There’s a storage room back there. That’s where I keep the rest of my tunes.” “You mean there’s more boxes like these?” “Heck yeah! I can’t just play the same ten tracks all week like you can.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “They’re called performances, Vinyl. An orchestra repeats the same music for several nights in a row so that more ponies have an opportunity to hear it. Thankfully that won’t be the case with this blasted concert on Saturday. One night and we’re done.” Vinyl slid a box along the ground until she reached the door. “What’s got you so worked up about this one, anyway?” Octavia followed her with a second box. “Our conductor’s been positively obnoxious about it. I suppose he has his reasons, but still… his behavior almost convinced me to give up music.” Vinyl fiddled with the squeaky doorknob until it turned. She swung the door open and revealed a sizable room lined with shelves full of records. Most of the shelves looked ready to buckle under the weight. The room’s only light, from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, cast long shadows everywhere. “Funny thing is, if you two hadn’t come to the club the other day… I’d probably be packing up my stuff right now… maybe moving out of town.” Octavia pushed her box across the threshold and into the back corner. “I’m glad we could help each other out. All the same I’ll be happy when this week’s over; no more rehearsals, no more performances, no more late nights… we might even take a vacation. Con’s always wanted to see the Crystal Empire, we could use some of our share of the profits to–” The door slammed shut. Octavia looked back to see Vinyl standing in front of it with her teeth bared. “What?” “I just said we need a vac–” Vinyl pounded a hoof on the ground. “I get it. All of your own problems are fixed, so now it’s time to ran back your perfect little life and leave me hanging. Some friend you are!” Octavia glared at her. “Excuse me? I put my reputation on the line to help save your sleazy club and this is the thanks I get? Maybe I should’ve just sat back and watched you fail for once, maybe then you’d finally see how life is for the rest of us.” Vinyl ran up and stared her down from an inch away. “What’s that supposed to mean, you uptight, prissy perfectionist? You think you’re better than me? You think I deserve this?” Octavia charged forward until Vinyl’s horn was pressing into her forehead and her tail was against the door. “I mean you’ve never had work hard for anything, you lazy, arrogant slob! I slaved my way through college and you hardly ever showed up to class, I struggled to make friends and you had more of them than you knew what do with, and let’s not even mention how many stallions pushed me aside so they could chase after you. Now we’re doing the same thing all over again: you sleep half the day and have your own business, I work all the time and barely make enough to–” Vinyl pushed her away and turned to the door. “Screw this, I need some air.” The doorknob squeaked, but didn’t turn. Vinyl shook the knob hard enough to rattle the whole door on its hinges, and yet nothing happened. “Great. I’m stuck in here with Friend of the Year.” “And I’m stuck with Incurable Slob of the Century.” Neither said anything else for a while. Vinyl sat facing the door while Octavia stared at one of the back shelves. The only sound was that of their quick breathing; the sound of two bitter enemies forced to share a cage. Eventually Vinyl stood and pounded on the door again. “We’ve got like six hours before my buddies show up for work.” Octavia shook her head. “Con’s a heavy sleeper; who knows when he’ll be up. Could we break down the door?” “Nope, it’s super solid. That’s why I keep my stuff in here.” “Lovely.” Vinyl sat down across from her. “Stuck in a tiny room with you and a bunch of records… sounds like our old dorm.” “If this was our dorm the records would be all over the ground.” “Heh, yeah. I stepped up my game after I slipped on a bunch of them. Not bad for an incurable slob, right?” “I’m sorry I said that… it wasn’t very–” Vinyl sighed. “It’s cool, it’s the truth.” “Now, Vinyl–” “That other stuff wasn’t cool, though. I busted my tail to get through college.” “We were roommates, Vinyl. You were asleep half the time.” “I was working for the other half, Tav. I didn’t have a big fancy scholarship helping me out; I had to play gigs just to stay there.” Octavia’s ears folded back and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Vinyl, I guess I never thought about that… I guess I really am a lousy friend. Why did you ever put up with me, anyway?” Vinyl walked over and thumped her on the shoulder. “Stop beating yourself down, Tav. Sure you’re uptight but you work crazy hard. Some nights I’d be heading out and see you passed on top of your books, that made me want to try harder… or at least set my alarm for once.” “Why?” “Because I knew you were going places. Sure I’ve got my club now, but way back then I knew you’d be the one living the dream.” “I don’t really see how I’m doing that. Con and I both work, and yet we’re dirt poor.” Vinyl thumped her again. “Tav, you’ve got it backwards.” “How?” “Bits are cheap, Tav. You’ve got all the important stuff: a steady job, a nice place to live, and…” “… and?” Vinyl scuffed a hoof on the ground. “You’ve got your stallion.” “What do you mean? You’ve had your pick of them ever since I met you.” “Yeah, but that’s not the same… it’s always been dudes like LP. There’s never anypony like your guy.” Octavia’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you jealous? Jealous of Con?” Vinyl held up her hooves. “Hey, I’m not trying to steal him if that’s what you think. He’s a little too clean-cut for me. I just… I just want to find my guy; somepony that’s romantic and committed like he is… maybe with a cooler mane.” Octavia tried to suppress a giggle. “All this time I figured you liked the… variety that your little flings brought you.” “Nah. Once you go out with one moron you’ve–” The doorknob squeaked and turned. A second later door swung open and Concerto stared at the two of them sitting on the floor in the dim light surrounded by records. “Am I… interrupting something?” Vinyl scrambled for the door but Octavia held her back. “We’ll be right out, Con. Whatever you do, don’t close the door.” His stare shifted to the doorknob his hoof was resting on. “This thing is pretty rusty. I was about to go out and get us all breakfast; I could stop at the hardware store and pick up some oil too.” “That sounds lovely.” He pulled a loose cable out of the DJ booth and wedged it against the doorjamb. “Okay, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Vinyl looked at Octavia and grinned. “See what I mean? If that dude loved you any more he wouldn't let your hooves touch the ground.” Octavia hugged her. “I’m sorry I made it sound like I was walking out on you, and for all the dumb stuff I said. Even if we take a vacation we’ll still come back and play here… possibly not every night, but we’ll come back.” “Aw, that’s cool, Tav. Sorry I got mad. We good?” “As long as you don’t mind being friends with a uptight perf–” This time Vinyl hugged her, which made it hard to breath. “Any time, Tav.” Vinyl Scratch’s Big AdventureAt long last, Saturday was here. The bass beats rocking the club made the music’s rhythm a feast for more than just the ears. Octavia caught herself smiling as Vinyl’s electric improvisations made her cello hum. She didn’t need to mentally visualize the song, not when the notes were pulsing through her body like bolts of lightning. She couldn’t recall much of the dreaded charity concert earlier that night, aside from being elated to take a bow and watch the curtain fall. When Perfect Note took a moment at the end to thank everypony for coming, she’d let her eyes wander to the royal box situated near the stage. As promised, Princesses Celestia and Luna were in attendance, both smiling with all the regality that could be expected. Still, she’d couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something a little too perfect about the younger Princess’s expression, almost as if it was a well practiced façade. That couldn’t be true, of course; their generous monetary contribution made it clear how they felt about the performance and the cause. The music faded and Vinyl’s voice took its place. “How’s everypony doing tonight?” Spotlights panned over the cheering crowd. The dance floor packed was to the limit and beyond. It was a wonder all those ponies could breath, let alone dance. Again, Vinyl addressed the crowd. “Are my buddies on fire tonight or what?” Now Octavia and Concerto were in the spotlight, and the crowd loved it even more. The ones closest to the stage held up one hoof each and started shouting something in unison. The chant spread through the crowd until it nearly overtook the music: “Art! Art! Art!” Octavia blushed. She could feel their eyes on her, and their collective will calling for one singular thing. Concerto leaned over and spoke in her ear. “Don’t tell me your going to disappoint them.” She looked at him and smiled. “Just like we practiced, right?” “Right?” They held their bows in the air and joined the chant. “Respect the arts!” The lights moved to Vinyl next. “This is a big night, ponies: every bit you’re bringing in tonight is gonna put more music education in the schools, so let’s crank it up one more time! Go score another carrot dog or drop a bit in the jar, and I’ll drop one last beat with–” Somepony shouted so loud the record skipped. “More!” The sheer force of the voice parted the crowd and permitted the pony in question to approach the stage. As the lights fell on her Octavia’s jaw dropped. “Is… is that Prin–” “I haven’t been so entertained in over a thousand years, and I, Princess Luna, want more!” There was no doubt about it; Luna had indeed been forcing a smile at the concert. That was the only explanation for the look of wild glee currently on her face. A pony couldn’t smile any wider without breaking something. Octavia, Concerto, and Vinyl exchanged looks of excitement and worry. Who were they to tell a Princess of Equestria that it was almost closing time? Vinyl leaned over her microphone and looked at her friends. “You dudes think we can do a couple more?” The crowd answered with an enthusiastic yes, while Octavia and Concerto simply nodded. All of that wasn’t enough for Luna, however. A second later she was hovering over the crowd and magically outshining the spotlights. “I’ll pay a hundred thousand bits for another hour! Who’s with me?” Octavia almost dropped her bow. “A hun… a hundred thousand?” Concerto steadied her before she could fall over. “That’s twice what the concert raised.” “I uh… by the time we’re done here I might be too tired for our um… usual post-performance tradition, dear.” He chuckled. “You and me both.” He held up his bow to the crowd and nodded. They were going to keep playing. Vinyl’s amplified voice could barely be heard over the cheering that followed. “Right on, ponies, let’s party!” The music rose up to all new levels of loud. Ponies threw bits in the air, and Luna caught each one in an ethereal blue glow. Golden coins hung in the air like stars in the sky, and the ponies underneath jumped up and down in time with the furious beat. Walking to the club in the middle of the day was an entirely different experience. The streets were busy with all the usual signs of commerce, and there wasn’t a trace of bone-rattling bass to be heard. Making the walk without instruments strapped to their backs was a welcome change, although Octavia still insisted they walk slowly. “But… How do you think she’ll take it?” Concerto laughed and nuzzled his wife. “Didn’t I just say she’ll be happy?” “Yes, but… it’s been nearly two months. When we left things were going so well, and I promised we’d be back.” “We are back, Tavi. Maybe not exactly how Vinyl expected, but still…” Even in the daylight, the grandeur and audacity of the club was made it clear that Vinyl had been doing quite well in their absence. The whole front of the building had been redecorated to look like one giant speaker. Brand new neon lights spelled out the club’s name in letters taller than they were, along with Octavia’s now iconic line: Respect the Arts. Octavia grinned. “Let’s go tell her the good news.” Their key to the apartment still worked, and the familiar smell of the interior let them know that Vinyl did indeed still live there. Concerto knocked on the wall. “Hey Vinyl? It’s Concerto and Octavia. Are you here?” The only reply was a loud snore. “I guess we’ll have to come back later.” Octavia marched to the bedroom door. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do this for years.” She pounded on the door with two hooves. “Vinyl Scratch! You’ve got one minute to get presentable before I break the door down.” Something stirred on the other side of the door. “Wha… Tav? That you?” Vinyl opened the door a few seconds later. Her mane was a mess and her glasses were missing, but she did have a smile on her face. “You’re back?” Octavia nodded. “In a manner of speaking. You see–” Vinyl nearly knocked her over with a hug. Concerto was pulled in a moment later. “You guys have a good vacation? I’ve gotta tell you about how the club’s been doing, see ever since you left–” Octavia extracted herself from the embrace and straightened her bow tie. “We have some important news too.” Vinyl looked and Concerto and grinned. “Nice going, pops. You want a filly or a colt?” Concerto’s eyebrows shot up. “You know? How?” “You two were one room over from me for like a week and now you’ve got big news; of course I know.” Octavia blushed bright red. “I… uh…” “Chill, Tav, you two are gonna be great parents.” Concerto stepped in while Octavia regained her composure. “So about that… we’re going to have to cut back on how many late nights we have, especially when the time gets closer.” “It’s cool. Like I was gonna say, things are going great here. Sure I don’t have my buddies playing with me, but I’m spinning some new sounds that’s got ponies pouring in every night. Luna even drops in sometimes.” “Princess Luna?” “Yeah, last time she said I can drop the Princess part as long as she keeps getting in for free. Now that’s a pony that can dance!” Octavia took a deep breath and resumed her original blush-free smile. “I’m glad things are going so well for you.” “Forget me, what about you guys? You still playing with the super-evil conductor?” Concerto laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s not evil. We’re on break until next Monday. Eventually Tavi will have to cut back on the cello playing, but not yet.” Octavia gave him a friendly shove. “I’m pregnant, not sick. As long as my hooves aren’t too swollen to hold a bow I’m keeping it up, and that includes a night or two here every week.” Vinyl pumped a hoof in the air. “Aww yeah!” Then she lowered her head to Octavia’s middle. “I’m gonna play extra loud so you can hear too.”
To The ClubOctavia could see the symphony. Notes from each instrument glided past each other in rigid yet beautiful patterns, like the interlocking gears in a clock. Melodies and countermelodies arose out of the notes, giving shape and context to each sound. The symphony, the synergy arising from the perfect lock-step motion of every string and valve, was breathtaking, but only for a moment. The moment ended, as it always did, with their new conductor rapping his baton against the podium. The music faded into dissonance as his voice echoed through the empty concert hall. “Is it too much to ask that the brass section come in on time? I have it on good authority that this piece is one of Princess Celestia’s personal favorites, and if you can’t get it right we might as well pack up and go home! Does anypony here even remember why this concert matters?” Octavia sighed. The paycheck would be her answer. There wasn’t any other reason she’d put up with a week of tension-filled rehearsals that concluded well after midnight. The conductor, a blue earth pony by the name of Perfect Note, gently set down his baton. “Charity. That’s why we’re here.” This was the calmest tone he’d used in hours. “The proceeds for this concert will help fund music education in the Canterlot public school system, and the Princesses themselves will be in attendance. Now if we could all turn back to–is there a problem, Mrs. Melody?” Octavia tensed up. She hadn’t even realized she’d been yawning, at least not until Perfect Note’s fiery gaze was fixed on her like a spotlight. “Not at all, Mr. Note. I was just… well it’s getting late, Sir.” Everypony in the orchestra looked to the clock on the far wall. It was a few minutes after one in the morning. He threw his baton on the ground. “Then go home! Come back when you’re ready to take your craft and profession seriously.” “But, Sir–” “Go home!” She was back in grade school and the teacher was sending her to the principal’s office. There wasn’t any point in arguing, not if she wanted to come back at all. Some of her neighbors watched her pack up her music while others buried their noses in their own. The concert hall, a room expressly designed to carry music to every ear with perfect clarity, magnified every sound she made. The rustle of her songbook and the creak of her music stand rang out like cymbal crashes against the backdrop of tense silence. Just thinking about how many eyes were fixed on her made her blush. Somewhere else in the orchestra, chair squeaked against the hardwood floor as another pony stood. She already knew who it was, and it slowed her rapid heartbeat. Concerto made no effort to work quietly. Somehow he made packing up his violin an even louder affair than her cello. “Goodnight, everypony. See you tomorrow night.” Perfect Note shut his eyes and sighed. “What a surprise.” “What, that I’m leaving, or that nopony else is?” Gasps and a few murmured words spread through the orchestra. Octavia fastened the clasps on her cello case and slipped the strap over her neck. She stepped past the other cellists and, without looking back, waited for her husband to join her. By the time they reached the door at the back of the stage, several other chairs were squeaking against the hardwood floor. Apparently rehearsal was adjourning early tonight. Wind blew down the streets as Octavia stepped onto the sidewalk with Concerto by her side. Summer nights in Canterlot were rarely this cold. There weren’t any taxis, or ponies for that matter, on the roads this hour. Walking would get them home by two at best. She looked down the road and sighed. “Why do we put up with this? Perfect Note can’t treat professional musicians like foals.” “I think he just did.” “I should just quit. It’s not like I’m ever going to be first-seat cellist now anyway, not with him in charge. I’ll just play through the charity concert this weekend and leave for good.” The familiar weight of her cello disappeared. She glanced over and saw the case balanced on his back. In response she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Con, and thanks for walking out with me.” “I could always club him with my violin. You could hide the body in your cello case.” “If he singles me out again then I’m all for it. Maybe Princess Celestia will have mercy and let us share a cell in the dungeon. They probably serve better food there anyway.” “Come on, Tavi, your cooking’s not that bad.” “Yes it is. You married a mare that can’t cook, Con, admit it. I guess it’d help if I wasn’t tired all the–” She yawned again and tripped. The cello case, pulled off balance by the strap around her neck, slipped off his back and dragged her down into a water puddle. “Tavi! Are you okay?” He pulled the massive instrument away and helped her up. Her trademark white collar and pink tie were stained brown. She brushed the grime out of her fur and shook her head. “No. No, I’m not okay.” “Are you hurt?” She nodded and pointed to her chest. “Right here. I love music, Con, but I don’t think I can do this anymore.” “I know music’s a hard life, but we knew that when we started.” “Maybe we thought we did. Remember when we got married, when you said if we didn’t have time for each other we’d find a way to make some?” “Of course I remember.” “It’s time to start making it. This past month we’ve had gigs and rehearsals every single day. When we’re not earning a living there’s chores to do, meals to make, and then we’re too tired to do anything else but sleep. There’s never any time for the two of us to just be… us.” He rubbed his nose against her neck. “You’re absolutely right, let’s change that right now.” She giggled and pushed him away. “It’s still going to take an hour to walk home.” “We’re not going home.” “Huh? What about dinner? What about the piles of laundry on the bed?” “We’ll deal with all of that tomorrow. Right now we’re on a date.” “At one in the morning?” “It’s a big city, I’m sure some places are still open. We’ll eat out, crash at some cheap hotel, and take a taxi home in the morning.” She sat down on the cello case and massaged one of her hooves. “That sounds lovely. Is there something close? I don’t care what we eat, just so long as I don’t have to lug this case around for hours.” “Well, there is one place just a few minutes away…” “Perfect! Let’s… wait, you don’t mean–” The steady thump of bass beats could be felt from their vantage point across the street, and the flashing neon sign could probably be seen from the moon. There was nothing subtle about Club Vinyl; not its lights, not its music, and certainly not its namesake DJ. Octavia put a hoof over her eyes. “Hay. You did mean this place.” “Like I said, it’s close. They do serve food here, and considering who we know we’ll probably get in for free.” “And be deafened shortly thereafter.” “Sorry, Tavi, you married a stallion with diverse musical tastes. The next time we’re out on a One AM date you can pick where we go.” She grinned. “Fine, fine, we’ll do it. At least I’ll never have to hear Perfect Note’s screeching voice again.” “I could still club him with my violin if he gets out of line.” “Right now I’d be more concerned about Vinyl.” The club’s interior was the opposite of the concert hall. Strobe lights cast their pulsing glow on a dance floor, the tiny round tables that edged it, and the huge speakers hanging far above. The DJ booth, situated on the far side of the dance floor, was the brightest spot of all. Colorful lights panned across the stage, showing glimpses of the spinning turntables, glowing synthesizers, and the brown pony in the booth bobbing his head to the beat. There were only a few ponies on the dance floor, and even fewer at the tables. Octavia set her cello case next to a free table and sat on top of it. In a dive like this she half expected somepony to steal it, although she had no idea what a pony who frequented a club like this would do with an instrument capable of making actual music. Concerto joined her a few minutes later with a tray balanced on his head. “Hungry?” He had to shout to be heard at all. “Starving.” He set the tray down and joined her on the cello case. Their date night feast consisted of carrot dogs and hay fries. “So, what’s a nice mare like you doing in a place like this?” She batted her eyes and smiled. “Well, after my dashing husband rescued me from the fire breathing conductor, he insisted we come here for a bite to eat instead of walking home. Personally I think he’s just trying to get out of doing the dishes.” “Is it going to work?” “Perhaps, it depends on what else he has in–” A white unicorn with a blue mane and magenta sunglasses wrapped her hooves around them. “Well if it isn’t my main mare and her totally awesome hubbo! What’re you doing up late on a school night, Tav?” Octavia rolled her eyes. “Hello, Vinyl.” Vinyl Scratch broke off the hug and sat between them. “That’s all you’ve got to say to your old roomie?” “Could you tell me where the bathroom is?” Vinyl laughed and stole one of her hayfries. “Yeah, yeah, I miss you too. So what’s up?” “Our rehearsal ended late and we don’t feel like walking home, so we’re here… partying.” “Finally! You two should come by more often. Can you believe how empty this place is?” “Yes, and it’s lovely. At long last there’s a rave where I can walk across the room without bumping into fifty other ponies.” Vinyl pulled off her glasses and wiped a tear away. “Yeah… I guess there’s that.” “Vinyl… are you all right? I’ve never seen you cr–” “Just something in my eye is all… Wanna eat upstairs in my place? I swear it’s quieter up there.” Octavia looked to Concerto, who promptly nodded. “Sure, Vinyl. Lead the way.”
Music Is All I've GotAgainst all expectations, and possibly the laws of acoustics, the loft apartment above the club was indeed quiet. Either that or the pungent odor from the dirty dishes in the sink was doing as much damage to Octavia’s ears as it was to her nose. She didn’t need to ask who lived here; the smell alone made that obvious. It smelled like the tiny room she and Vinyl lived in prior to her getting married. No amount of cleaning, she’d quickly discovered, could fully expunge the odor that radiated from Vinyl’s lifestyle of late nights and loud music. Compared to those days, being married to Concerto was like living in an air freshener factory. Vinyl made some room for them at the kitchen table, primarily by shoving debris onto the floor. “Just like old times, right Tav?” For the third time that night, Octavia set her cello case on the floor and sat on it. “Is everything all right, Vinyl?” “Everything’s cool I guess… just… hey you two want some soda? I’ve got tons in the fridge.” “Vinyl…” “How about you, Mr. Tav?” Concerto tried not to laugh. “I’m good. Do you two need a minute? I could eat downstairs.” Octavia set her tray on the table. “Just eat your carrot dog before I eat it for you. I’m starving.” Vinyl pulled over a chair of her own. “You can stay; it’s cool.” He joined his wife on the cello case and started on his now cold hayfries. Octavia wolfed down her carrot dog and, with a doe-eyed look, convinced him to give up part of his own. Vinyl wiped her sunglasses on a nearby rag. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Guess I should talk already.” Octavia nodded. Once again a tear trickled down Vinyl’s face. She wiped it away and put her sunglasses back on. “I’m gonna sell my club.” Concerto was the first to choke. Octavia struck him on the back while she coughed out a few words. “You’re what?” “Poured every bit I had into this place… but you saw how empty it is down there… nopony cares about this music scene anymore. Not even me.” “But… your club? This was your dream, Vinyl. When we were roommates you always talked about how much money you were raking in.” “Yeah… times were good back then. This place was packed every night. You’d be rubbing flank with three ponies at once just to get near the stage. And the music… oh don’t get me started on how I could spin those beats.” “Then what’s changed? Why is the club empty?” “‘cause I just can’t hack it anymore and I’m tired of trying. In a couple years this scene probably won’t even exist… all the kids will be so bored at night they’ll go to bed early.” Octavia bit her lip. “Despite how good of a thing that may be for society at large, I still don’t see what’s changed. You’ve been a DJ since we met in college, I can’t believe you could suddenly lose your special talent.” Vinyl shot out of her chair and threw her glasses across the room. “Well I did! I lost it… whatever it was. Besides, how’d you ever know I was any good? You hate dance music.” Octavia stood too, bringing them nose to nose. “You know I don’t hate it, I simply prefer a seat in a concert hall to being part of a sweaty mob at a rave. Regardless, I’ve seen you perform; you can practically set crowds on fire. Why do you think I asked you to DJ our wedding reception?” Vinyl shrank back into her seat. “I dunno… pity? Maybe just to tick off your parents?” Concerto laughed. “Well that second one definitely happened.” Octavia glared at him. “Not helping.” “Sorry. Seriously though, Vinyl, Tavi’s right. You’re a natural performer.” Vinyl shook her head. “Was… now I’m just a bum. They’ll probably turn this place back into a ballet studio or something.” “Have you tried changing things up, playing something totally new?” “All the time… doesn’t work. I’ve been writing new tracks since forever. My last big hit was the one we all played at your wedding.” The memory alone made Octavia’s ears ring. “You mean the time you sped up a classical masterpiece and added your electric twists to it?” “Yup. I used to play that record every Friday! Ponies would pack this place just to hear Vinyl’s Fifth Symphony again, but my new stuff just doesn’t cut it. I just need to bug out before I get kicked–” The apartment’s door creaked open and a brown unicorn stallion walked in. “Vinyl, you got any more ketchup for the dispenser downstairs?” Vinyl buried her head in her hooves. “We blew it all last weekend, LP… there might a bottle in the fridge or something.” He walked by the trio of ponies, opened the fridge, and stuck his head in. The sound of bottles and cans getting pushed around soon followed. “What’re you doing up here anyway? You’re due on the decks in ten and I’m not covering for you again.” Vinyl sighed and nodded. “I hear ya… Just give me a few; I’ll be there.” He extracted himself from the fridge with a ketchup bottle and a few soda cans in his magic grasp. “Cool.” “Catch you later, babe. Kiss?” She stood and puckered up, but he walked by as if she wasn’t there. “Buy some ketchup tomorrow before we open. Don’t forget again.” “Wait. LP? Wanna meet my fr–” The apartment door closed before she could finish. She clenched her teeth and looked away. “Tav, Concerto, that’s LP.” Octavia’s gaze was fixed on the dollop of ketchup on her plate. “So… he’s your–” “Not anymore he isn’t. Might as well dump the lousy stallion and career at the same time.” “Would… would you like to stay with us for a while? You know, until you get back your hooves.” Vinyl leaned back in her chair and crossed her forelegs. “Eh, not really.” “Well… what we can do?” “Dunno.” “Come on, Vinyl. Give me a something to work with here. If I could magically revitalize your club I would, but I doubt two concert ponies can help with that. What’s electric dance music need with a cellist and a–” Concerto stood. “What if… what if that is what it needs? What if we really could revitalize the club?” Vinyl laughed. “No offense dude, but classical and jazz isn’t gonna fly downstairs.” “That’s not what I mean. You were just talking about how the piece you played at our wedding was a big success, and you had the two of us play with you for that one.” “Yeah, but that was a gimmick track. I wrote it for your wedding, kind of like a gag gift. Nopony brings instruments like yours to a dance club.” “Why don’t we try it? If you’re already thinking about selling the place then what’s the worst that can happen?” “Somepony throws a tomato in that pretty face of yours.” He shrugged. “Hey, then you’d have some ketchup. What if the crowd loves it? Cello, violin, and synth. Either we save the club or run it into the ground.” “Heh, you’re right, it can’t hurt.” Octavia tapped him on the shoulder. “Con… do you really want to do this? Can we, for that matter?” Vinyl dove to the ground and grabbed her front hooves. “Please, Tav, I need this bad. If this works I’ll split all the profits, I’ll do your laundry, I’ll… ugh I don’t know. What have I got that you want?” “My hooves.” Vinyl released her and scrambled backwards. “Right, right.” “And I’m not going to just play a few chords over and over in the background while you spew out high energy noise. If I’m going to drag out my cello again after five miserable hours of concert rehearsal, I want to enjoy it.” “I’ll run all the songs by you first, and I’ll even draw up sheet music.” “No.” “Huh?” “I’ve seen your penmanship, Vinyl. You compose, I’ll write.” “Deal. You guys can crash here tonight and we’ll pick some tunes tomorrow morning.” LP pounded on the door. “Scratch, get your tail down here already!” Octavia sighed. “Con, would you be a dear and club LP with your violin?” He shook his head. “That’s only for soft-headed conductors; I’d break it if I went around clubbing thick-skulled ponies like him.” Vinyl snickered. “You got that right.”
Concerto TuesdayThe following night, Octavia took a fresh look at the club’s DJ booth, this time assessing it as a potential stage and not just a glowing technological oddity. There was a little space to the left of the speakers, but not much. If she and Concerto both played their instruments there they’d be sandwiched between the back walls and the edge of the stage itself. Everything about this place, including what the bass notes were doing to her full stomach, told her the same thing. “I don’t think I can do this.” Concerto, who was standing next to her, nodded. “It’s a tight fit up there.” “It’s not just that… I was serious when I talked about giving up performing. If I can’t take one blue-faced conductor yelling at me how am I supposed play impromptu backup music in a seedy dance club?” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “Three reasons. We’re helping out a friend, in a place like this we’ve got nothing to loose, and, face it, this is going to be fun.” She stared at the grin on his face. “Fun?” “It’ll be just like our wedding reception. Wasn’t that fun?” “Yes, but… well…” “You never thought you’d do it again?” “Exactly.” She closed her eyes and tried to picture the wild party that followed their wedding. If only she could channel the euphoria she’d been running on then. He kissed her again. “Electric dance music isn’t really that different from what we normally play. It takes the improvisation of jazz and adds a wider selection of instruments.” “Except jazz has been maturing for decades. Compared to that this music is primordial ooze. My fillyhood music teacher would have a coronary if she knew I was even considering playing in a place like this.” He squeezed her a little tighter, and then let go. “Just think of it this way: Perfect Note would too.” Her ambivalence vanished. That tiny bit of stage space was more than enough for an execution, symbolic or otherwise. “Death by bass… that’s almost too poetic.” Vinyl Scratch stepped into the DJ booth amid wild cheers from the crowd. Her voice, amplified by the club’s sound system, shook the air like thunder. “Hello Club Vinyl! Who’s ready to crank it up right before closing time?” The cheering from the crowd grew louder. “I’m gonna need more than that!” Ponies jumped up and waved their hooves in the air. The more noise they made, the wider Vinyl’s smile became. The lights illuminating the stage pulsed with ever increasing speed. “Who’s ready for a couple brand new tracks? Who’s ready for some special friends of mine to take this to the next level?” Vinyl couldn’t possibly inject more hype into the atmosphere. Instead she pointed into crowd and the spotlights followed her gesture. Suddenly Concerto was standing under a dozen beams of multicolored light. Octavia, who’d been left in the shadows, grinned. “I guess that means you’re first.” “I guess so.” As good as Vinyl’s stage presence was, she would always prefer that of her husband’s. He trotted up to the front as if he was joining a world class jazz band instead of trying out a solo act in front of a rowdy crowd. The lights pulsed in time with the bass beat as he alighted the stage, stepped up to a microphone, and placed bow to string. She’d never tire of listening to his violin. Then he started to play. She did her best to tune out Vinyl’s contribution to the song, which did little to improve it. For a moment he’d be play a few familiar notes, something halfway related to the classical piece he and Vinyl had picked, and then things would get weird. Vinyl would throw in some random electric flourish and Concerto, rather than pause until the next recognizable measure, would play on. His bow flew across the violin strings while she scratched the record, and Octavia’s ears, mercilessly. They’d thrown another musical masterpiece into a blender and the result was exactly the sort of dissonant, chaotic mess that she’d expected. Five minutes later, the bizarre tune faded into the sound of screaming. The crowd was jumping up and down with more enthusiasm than ever. Her fate was sealed; the first song was a success, which meant she was up next. Concerto did a quick bow and then beckoned her towards him. She moved on stiff legs, trying to keep her focus on him. “I have to do this… for Vinyl… for Con. It’s just another performance, just pretend it’s a jazz club, just follow the notes on the page, just follow the…” All too quickly she was in the front and Concerto was pulling her onto the stage. He took a final bow and stepped into the shadows. Now she was the pony under the flashing spotlights with nothing but a classical instrument and a microphone for company. Vinyl looked over at her from the DJ booth and pumped a hoof in the air. “Let’s do this!” Octavia bit her lip. “Yes… lets.” They’d spent hours choosing what to play, finally settling on three simple pieces that she and Concerto knew by heart. All she had to do was put bow to strings and let muscle memory do the rest. In a few minutes the song, and her good deed, would be complete. A familiar melody arose from the constant thump of bass. She closed her eyes, leaned against the cello, and began to play her part. Each string hummed its own sweet sound that she could feel more than hear. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all; as long as she could feel the vibrations in the cello she could tune out the rest of the world. That’s all she needed to do. Now if only the rest of the world wasn’t so noisy. She clamped her eyes shut and willed her ears to do the same. She was playing in a storm filled with bass note thunder and multicolored lightning. The sheet music in her mind blew away in the cacophonous wind, and she began to sweat. Dragging the bow back and forth was almost too much work, but she couldn’t stop now. Stopping meant that Perfect Note was right, that she didn’t take her profession seriously. “I’ll show you serious! I’ll show you craft!” Her teeth were clenched, her muscles were on fire, and she didn’t care. So what if it she was playing in a sonic thunderstorm? If she dug deep enough she’d find the root of the music, the ancestral link between this modern drivel and the classical masterworks that it had descended from. Her bow stood still. She held her cello tight and listened to the other sounds, the ones she had no control over, resonate through the instrument. Perhaps she’d been right all along; this was indeed a thunderstorm. It was loud and crazy, but not random. She pictured herself on a hilltop while the rain came down. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and wind whipped through her mane. That was the surface of the sound, the notes that any foal with an untrained ear could pick up. She needed to go deeper. The notes weren’t random, for starters. A hundred different melodies were darting in and out of the music all at once, like blades of grass blowing in the wind. She needed harness that current, the invisible force that moved all of the tonal elements along. Bass pulsed through her and, two measures later, the vibrations of her cello joined them. Storm or symphony, it didn’t matter so long as she was part of it. She wasn’t a fifth seat cellist following the sacred movements of the conductor, she was the music’s driving force just like Vinyl. Soon she didn’t want the music to stop and, by her and Vinyl’s unspoken decree, it didn’t. One song faded into the next, and a violin joined the sonic storm. Their third song, the one they’d agreed to all play together, rose up in place of the last. Concerto was on the hillside with her now, adding a new and welcome voice to the music. She couldn’t help smiling. This was yet another thing they hadn’t had time to do lately: play a duet. While this wasn’t their normal fare, she couldn’t ignore the raw energy and emotion racing through her. She’d been a fool to think she could quit this life. So what if Perfect Note hated her? So what if he fired her after the charity performance? Membership in the Canterlot Orchestra wasn’t her reason for being a musician, it was an excuse. She was a musician because music was life, just as much as eating or breathing. A quick riff from Concerto’s violin reminded her that he was on that list too. He was more than her husband; he was her musician, and she was his. Tonight, when they finally found a place to crash, she’d have to find a way or two to remind him of that. They were still on a date, after all.
Little Pony StepsTonight’s rehearsal was almost too calm. Two days had gone by since the whole orchestra walked out on Perfect Note, an event whose repercussions were still being felt. Late night marathon rehearsals were a thing of the past, as were the screaming fits and public shaming of orchestra members. Tonight’s rehearsal was everything Octavia expected of her profession, although only half of what she wanted. The other half would come in thirty seconds when Perfect Note would utter the now familiar phrase that never failed to make her smile. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” Her sheet music was folded and packed before he could set down the baton. She forced herself to slow down and look professional while he made a few closing remarks. “Our charity concert is just two days away, which also happens to be our last performance for two months. I’ll have the material for our next concert series mailed to you well before then, but be sure to take some for yourselves and your families as well. Enjoy your time off, you’ve all earned it.” Somehow she’d been expecting him to cut all of their pay and burst into maniacal laughter. Was this really the same pony who’d thrown her out for yawning? Concerto tapped her on the shoulder. “Ready?” “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.” Perfect Note was packing up his things when she approached him. He didn’t seem to notice her until she cleared her throat. He didn’t bother looking up. “Yes, Mrs. Melody?” “Sorry to bother you, Sir. I just… well I wanted to apologize for things getting out of hoof the other night.” “The error was mine. You have nothing to apologize for.” “Well… be that as it may I still–” At last he looked at her, and the lone tear in his eye stopped her mid sentence. “Do you have any foals, Mrs. Melody?” “I don’t, Sir.” “I have two, one of which will be starting school in the fall. I’m gravely concerned, Mrs. Melody, about the lack of music appreciation in Canterlot’s school curriculum. Please understand that I’ve been pushing all of you so hard for their sakes, not my own. I want this charity concert to do more than raise a few bits for a noble cause; I want to help future generations of musicians find their talents and for every pony to have a respect for the artistry of classical music.” Her mouth hung open. “I… I understand, Sir. I’ll do my best to make that a reality.” He smiled, more out of relief than joy. “A conductor could ask for nothing more. Have a good night, Mrs. Melody.” Concerto was waiting by the door with both of their instruments packed and ready to go. “You’re smiling. We still have jobs, right?” In response she kissed him. “Yes. Are you ready for our nightly date?” “Always; especially if it ends like the last few have.” She blushed and tried to hide a smile. “Let’s just get through the, shall we say, public portion of our performance first.” They ran all the way to the club, or at least as close to a run as their heavy instruments would let them. The line at the club’s door stretched around the block. Fortunately they no longer had to wait in line, or even use the front entrance. A small key, freshly liberated from the now-evicted LP, opened a door on the side of the building that led directly to a staircase. One flight later they were in Vinyl’s apartment, basking in its perpetual stench that, Octavia had to admit, wasn’t so bad once she got used to it. She opened the fridge and looked over their stockpile of groceries. “What would you like for dinner, Con?” His reply from the next room was barely audible. She crossed the kitchen and poked her head into what had become their home away from home, or at least the place where they slept off their late night performances. She snuck up behind Concerto and hugged him. “Dinner time, Con. What do you want? Just name a dish and I’ll find a way to ruin it.” “What if I cook tonight?” She arched an eyebrow. “I do believe you said my cooking isn’t that bad.” “I just thought you’d like a break, a chance to put up your hooves and let your lazy husband do some work.” “Says the pony who carries my cello more often than I do.” He winked. “How about this: let me spoil you a little. I’m trying to be romantic here.” “Why don’t we make dinner together? That way it’s both of our faults when it doesn’t turn out.” “Sounds great.” He walked past her towards the kitchen, but she hesitated. Her conversation with Perfect Note, and the implication it carried, was still on her mind. “Con?” “Yes, Tavi?” “When do you think we should start a family?” He turned back stared at her with wide eyes. “I… uh… I don’t know. I mean we both work so much just to make ends meet…” “…but you do still want one, don’t you?” “Of course I do.” “Why are you bring this up n–” She kissed him, long and slow. “Whenever it happens, we’ll make it work.” The apartment’s door flew open and Vinyl galloped in. “Tav? You guys are here, right?” “We’re in here. Is everything okay?” Vinyl was at the room door next, and her huge smile said it all. “We’ve gotta get down there; the crowd’s totally pumped. I think somepony saw you guys walking in.” “We’ll be down as soon as we eat. It’s only twelve thirty; we’re not scheduled to go on until one.” “Just grab an apple or something and get moving, this is Club Vinyl’s biggest night ever!” Five minutes later, four more than Vinyl would’ve liked, they were downstairs and on stage. From their elevated vantage point they should’ve been able to see the club’s entire ground floor. Instead they could see only one thing: ponies. The place was jam-packed with ponies, and all of them were cheering in anticipation of what they knew was coming. Octavia glanced at Concerto and grinned. Inside of a week they’d become rock stars. “Ready to make some music?” Time was irrelevant, and sheet music was merely a suggestion. Octavia played to Concerto, Concerto played to Octavia, and Vinyl supercharged the result. Their first night’s performance had only lasted ten minutes, whereas this one closed in on an hour. The last note, a long and deep purr from all three instruments, had every member of the crowd screaming for more. Vinyl moved the spotlights out over the crowd, and then pulled them back to her friends on stage. Concerto accidentally looked up into the lights and did his best to smile through through the pain and temporary blindness. To him the crowd was invisible, and his wife was merely a shadow. A shadow that, strangely enough, was at the edge of the stage on two hooves brandishing her bow overhead. Octavia’s voice, amplified by the microphones placed around their instruments, echoed through the club. “Respect the arts!” She retreated to his side a moment later. “I can’t believe I just… I mean I didn’t think the microphones would–” The crowd responded before he could, and they were chanting in unison. “Art! Art! Art!” He grinned and kissed her on the forehead. “Nice.” “But… why are they…” “I think you just became a club icon.” He could almost feel her blushing. “Shall we make our exit?” “Yes, before I faint.”
Octavia Melody's Escape from Electric MountainThe club always looked different in the morning. Octavia made her way down the staircase and let her bleary eyes wander. The tables were filthy, the floor was littered with trash, and the stage was covered in so many black cables it looked like a snake pit. This place was, without question, owned and operated by Vinyl Scratch. She stared at the stage and began to remember the previous night. “Did I really shout–” Vinyl popped out of the DJ booth. “Respect the arts! Yeah, you totally did. It was awesome.” Octavia stumbled backward and ended up sitting on the floor. “Vinyl! Did you have do to that?” “Morning, Tav.” “Ugh… morning. Why are you up at a decent hour?” Vinyl dove back into the booth. Cables slid across the stage and the tip her tail flicked in and out of view. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to fix the sound. There’s a buggy cable in here somewhere that I can’t ever find.” “You do… sleep, don’t you?” “Not when things are going this good. We pulled in some serious change last night. I’ll divide up your share this afternoon.” “Yes, about that… How would you feel about doing a charity performance? Our orchestra is doing a benefit concert this Saturday, and I’d love to do the same thing here.” “Charity? For what?” “Funding music education in public schools.” “Lame.” “Vinyl! You can’t possibly–” Her head appeared again, and she was grinning. “Got ya. Sure we can do a charity night. This Saturday, right?” “If you please.” “You got it. Can you help me move these boxes?” Octavia climbed onto the stage and peeked into Vinyl’s hiding place. To her surprise there really wasn’t much room in the DJ booth, at least not in its current state. Vinyl’s head was buried somewhere underneath one of the synthesizers and her body was contorted around several boxes of records. “Really, Vinyl, how can you work in such a cramped space?” “There’s no other way, Tav. I gotta have as much music on me as possible, just in case the crowd wants to hear a something different.” “And where precisely am I helping you move these boxes to?” Vinyl wriggled herself free and gestured to the back wall. “There’s a storage room back there. That’s where I keep the rest of my tunes.” “You mean there’s more boxes like these?” “Heck yeah! I can’t just play the same ten tracks all week like you can.” Octavia rolled her eyes. “They’re called performances, Vinyl. An orchestra repeats the same music for several nights in a row so that more ponies have an opportunity to hear it. Thankfully that won’t be the case with this blasted concert on Saturday. One night and we’re done.” Vinyl slid a box along the ground until she reached the door. “What’s got you so worked up about this one, anyway?” Octavia followed her with a second box. “Our conductor’s been positively obnoxious about it. I suppose he has his reasons, but still… his behavior almost convinced me to give up music.” Vinyl fiddled with the squeaky doorknob until it turned. She swung the door open and revealed a sizable room lined with shelves full of records. Most of the shelves looked ready to buckle under the weight. The room’s only light, from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, cast long shadows everywhere. “Funny thing is, if you two hadn’t come to the club the other day… I’d probably be packing up my stuff right now… maybe moving out of town.” Octavia pushed her box across the threshold and into the back corner. “I’m glad we could help each other out. All the same I’ll be happy when this week’s over; no more rehearsals, no more performances, no more late nights… we might even take a vacation. Con’s always wanted to see the Crystal Empire, we could use some of our share of the profits to–” The door slammed shut. Octavia looked back to see Vinyl standing in front of it with her teeth bared. “What?” “I just said we need a vac–” Vinyl pounded a hoof on the ground. “I get it. All of your own problems are fixed, so now it’s time to ran back your perfect little life and leave me hanging. Some friend you are!” Octavia glared at her. “Excuse me? I put my reputation on the line to help save your sleazy club and this is the thanks I get? Maybe I should’ve just sat back and watched you fail for once, maybe then you’d finally see how life is for the rest of us.” Vinyl ran up and stared her down from an inch away. “What’s that supposed to mean, you uptight, prissy perfectionist? You think you’re better than me? You think I deserve this?” Octavia charged forward until Vinyl’s horn was pressing into her forehead and her tail was against the door. “I mean you’ve never had work hard for anything, you lazy, arrogant slob! I slaved my way through college and you hardly ever showed up to class, I struggled to make friends and you had more of them than you knew what do with, and let’s not even mention how many stallions pushed me aside so they could chase after you. Now we’re doing the same thing all over again: you sleep half the day and have your own business, I work all the time and barely make enough to–” Vinyl pushed her away and turned to the door. “Screw this, I need some air.” The doorknob squeaked, but didn’t turn. Vinyl shook the knob hard enough to rattle the whole door on its hinges, and yet nothing happened. “Great. I’m stuck in here with Friend of the Year.” “And I’m stuck with Incurable Slob of the Century.” Neither said anything else for a while. Vinyl sat facing the door while Octavia stared at one of the back shelves. The only sound was that of their quick breathing; the sound of two bitter enemies forced to share a cage. Eventually Vinyl stood and pounded on the door again. “We’ve got like six hours before my buddies show up for work.” Octavia shook her head. “Con’s a heavy sleeper; who knows when he’ll be up. Could we break down the door?” “Nope, it’s super solid. That’s why I keep my stuff in here.” “Lovely.” Vinyl sat down across from her. “Stuck in a tiny room with you and a bunch of records… sounds like our old dorm.” “If this was our dorm the records would be all over the ground.” “Heh, yeah. I stepped up my game after I slipped on a bunch of them. Not bad for an incurable slob, right?” “I’m sorry I said that… it wasn’t very–” Vinyl sighed. “It’s cool, it’s the truth.” “Now, Vinyl–” “That other stuff wasn’t cool, though. I busted my tail to get through college.” “We were roommates, Vinyl. You were asleep half the time.” “I was working for the other half, Tav. I didn’t have a big fancy scholarship helping me out; I had to play gigs just to stay there.” Octavia’s ears folded back and she bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Vinyl, I guess I never thought about that… I guess I really am a lousy friend. Why did you ever put up with me, anyway?” Vinyl walked over and thumped her on the shoulder. “Stop beating yourself down, Tav. Sure you’re uptight but you work crazy hard. Some nights I’d be heading out and see you passed on top of your books, that made me want to try harder… or at least set my alarm for once.” “Why?” “Because I knew you were going places. Sure I’ve got my club now, but way back then I knew you’d be the one living the dream.” “I don’t really see how I’m doing that. Con and I both work, and yet we’re dirt poor.” Vinyl thumped her again. “Tav, you’ve got it backwards.” “How?” “Bits are cheap, Tav. You’ve got all the important stuff: a steady job, a nice place to live, and…” “… and?” Vinyl scuffed a hoof on the ground. “You’ve got your stallion.” “What do you mean? You’ve had your pick of them ever since I met you.” “Yeah, but that’s not the same… it’s always been dudes like LP. There’s never anypony like your guy.” Octavia’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you jealous? Jealous of Con?” Vinyl held up her hooves. “Hey, I’m not trying to steal him if that’s what you think. He’s a little too clean-cut for me. I just… I just want to find my guy; somepony that’s romantic and committed like he is… maybe with a cooler mane.” Octavia tried to suppress a giggle. “All this time I figured you liked the… variety that your little flings brought you.” “Nah. Once you go out with one moron you’ve–” The doorknob squeaked and turned. A second later door swung open and Concerto stared at the two of them sitting on the floor in the dim light surrounded by records. “Am I… interrupting something?” Vinyl scrambled for the door but Octavia held her back. “We’ll be right out, Con. Whatever you do, don’t close the door.” His stare shifted to the doorknob his hoof was resting on. “This thing is pretty rusty. I was about to go out and get us all breakfast; I could stop at the hardware store and pick up some oil too.” “That sounds lovely.” He pulled a loose cable out of the DJ booth and wedged it against the doorjamb. “Okay, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” Vinyl looked at Octavia and grinned. “See what I mean? If that dude loved you any more he wouldn't let your hooves touch the ground.” Octavia hugged her. “I’m sorry I made it sound like I was walking out on you, and for all the dumb stuff I said. Even if we take a vacation we’ll still come back and play here… possibly not every night, but we’ll come back.” “Aw, that’s cool, Tav. Sorry I got mad. We good?” “As long as you don’t mind being friends with a uptight perf–” This time Vinyl hugged her, which made it hard to breath. “Any time, Tav.”
Vinyl Scratch’s Big AdventureAt long last, Saturday was here. The bass beats rocking the club made the music’s rhythm a feast for more than just the ears. Octavia caught herself smiling as Vinyl’s electric improvisations made her cello hum. She didn’t need to mentally visualize the song, not when the notes were pulsing through her body like bolts of lightning. She couldn’t recall much of the dreaded charity concert earlier that night, aside from being elated to take a bow and watch the curtain fall. When Perfect Note took a moment at the end to thank everypony for coming, she’d let her eyes wander to the royal box situated near the stage. As promised, Princesses Celestia and Luna were in attendance, both smiling with all the regality that could be expected. Still, she’d couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something a little too perfect about the younger Princess’s expression, almost as if it was a well practiced façade. That couldn’t be true, of course; their generous monetary contribution made it clear how they felt about the performance and the cause. The music faded and Vinyl’s voice took its place. “How’s everypony doing tonight?” Spotlights panned over the cheering crowd. The dance floor packed was to the limit and beyond. It was a wonder all those ponies could breath, let alone dance. Again, Vinyl addressed the crowd. “Are my buddies on fire tonight or what?” Now Octavia and Concerto were in the spotlight, and the crowd loved it even more. The ones closest to the stage held up one hoof each and started shouting something in unison. The chant spread through the crowd until it nearly overtook the music: “Art! Art! Art!” Octavia blushed. She could feel their eyes on her, and their collective will calling for one singular thing. Concerto leaned over and spoke in her ear. “Don’t tell me your going to disappoint them.” She looked at him and smiled. “Just like we practiced, right?” “Right?” They held their bows in the air and joined the chant. “Respect the arts!” The lights moved to Vinyl next. “This is a big night, ponies: every bit you’re bringing in tonight is gonna put more music education in the schools, so let’s crank it up one more time! Go score another carrot dog or drop a bit in the jar, and I’ll drop one last beat with–” Somepony shouted so loud the record skipped. “More!” The sheer force of the voice parted the crowd and permitted the pony in question to approach the stage. As the lights fell on her Octavia’s jaw dropped. “Is… is that Prin–” “I haven’t been so entertained in over a thousand years, and I, Princess Luna, want more!” There was no doubt about it; Luna had indeed been forcing a smile at the concert. That was the only explanation for the look of wild glee currently on her face. A pony couldn’t smile any wider without breaking something. Octavia, Concerto, and Vinyl exchanged looks of excitement and worry. Who were they to tell a Princess of Equestria that it was almost closing time? Vinyl leaned over her microphone and looked at her friends. “You dudes think we can do a couple more?” The crowd answered with an enthusiastic yes, while Octavia and Concerto simply nodded. All of that wasn’t enough for Luna, however. A second later she was hovering over the crowd and magically outshining the spotlights. “I’ll pay a hundred thousand bits for another hour! Who’s with me?” Octavia almost dropped her bow. “A hun… a hundred thousand?” Concerto steadied her before she could fall over. “That’s twice what the concert raised.” “I uh… by the time we’re done here I might be too tired for our um… usual post-performance tradition, dear.” He chuckled. “You and me both.” He held up his bow to the crowd and nodded. They were going to keep playing. Vinyl’s amplified voice could barely be heard over the cheering that followed. “Right on, ponies, let’s party!” The music rose up to all new levels of loud. Ponies threw bits in the air, and Luna caught each one in an ethereal blue glow. Golden coins hung in the air like stars in the sky, and the ponies underneath jumped up and down in time with the furious beat. Walking to the club in the middle of the day was an entirely different experience. The streets were busy with all the usual signs of commerce, and there wasn’t a trace of bone-rattling bass to be heard. Making the walk without instruments strapped to their backs was a welcome change, although Octavia still insisted they walk slowly. “But… How do you think she’ll take it?” Concerto laughed and nuzzled his wife. “Didn’t I just say she’ll be happy?” “Yes, but… it’s been nearly two months. When we left things were going so well, and I promised we’d be back.” “We are back, Tavi. Maybe not exactly how Vinyl expected, but still…” Even in the daylight, the grandeur and audacity of the club was made it clear that Vinyl had been doing quite well in their absence. The whole front of the building had been redecorated to look like one giant speaker. Brand new neon lights spelled out the club’s name in letters taller than they were, along with Octavia’s now iconic line: Respect the Arts. Octavia grinned. “Let’s go tell her the good news.” Their key to the apartment still worked, and the familiar smell of the interior let them know that Vinyl did indeed still live there. Concerto knocked on the wall. “Hey Vinyl? It’s Concerto and Octavia. Are you here?” The only reply was a loud snore. “I guess we’ll have to come back later.” Octavia marched to the bedroom door. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do this for years.” She pounded on the door with two hooves. “Vinyl Scratch! You’ve got one minute to get presentable before I break the door down.” Something stirred on the other side of the door. “Wha… Tav? That you?” Vinyl opened the door a few seconds later. Her mane was a mess and her glasses were missing, but she did have a smile on her face. “You’re back?” Octavia nodded. “In a manner of speaking. You see–” Vinyl nearly knocked her over with a hug. Concerto was pulled in a moment later. “You guys have a good vacation? I’ve gotta tell you about how the club’s been doing, see ever since you left–” Octavia extracted herself from the embrace and straightened her bow tie. “We have some important news too.” Vinyl looked and Concerto and grinned. “Nice going, pops. You want a filly or a colt?” Concerto’s eyebrows shot up. “You know? How?” “You two were one room over from me for like a week and now you’ve got big news; of course I know.” Octavia blushed bright red. “I… uh…” “Chill, Tav, you two are gonna be great parents.” Concerto stepped in while Octavia regained her composure. “So about that… we’re going to have to cut back on how many late nights we have, especially when the time gets closer.” “It’s cool. Like I was gonna say, things are going great here. Sure I don’t have my buddies playing with me, but I’m spinning some new sounds that’s got ponies pouring in every night. Luna even drops in sometimes.” “Princess Luna?” “Yeah, last time she said I can drop the Princess part as long as she keeps getting in for free. Now that’s a pony that can dance!” Octavia took a deep breath and resumed her original blush-free smile. “I’m glad things are going so well for you.” “Forget me, what about you guys? You still playing with the super-evil conductor?” Concerto laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’s not evil. We’re on break until next Monday. Eventually Tavi will have to cut back on the cello playing, but not yet.” Octavia gave him a friendly shove. “I’m pregnant, not sick. As long as my hooves aren’t too swollen to hold a bow I’m keeping it up, and that includes a night or two here every week.” Vinyl pumped a hoof in the air. “Aww yeah!” Then she lowered her head to Octavia’s middle. “I’m gonna play extra loud so you can hear too.”
