Twilight walked the streets of Canterlot, desperately searching for something capable of slowing the spinning of her head. Ever since this whole human business started four months ago, her life had become one political conference after another until it all seemed to just blend together.
She had felt the disturbance the instant it happened: an incredibly uncomfortable static sensation that crawled up her spine as she slept. Conveniently, it happened while she was on what was intended to be an indefinitely long stay in Ponyville. She'd bolted from her library bed and looked out her window to see something like an aurora hovering in the air.
It was only the next day after being whisked back to Canterlot that she was informed of the fact that the aurora was, in fact, a sort of doorway between her world and another and that it had been created by some McGuffin invented the gangly, bipedal creatures that stepped out of it.
It was a deliciously ironic occurrence: Twilight had been whisked from rooms full of shouting bureaucrats to a peaceful respite and then back to more bureaucrats in the space of twenty-four hours.
These weren't just any old bureaucrats either: this time, human bureaucrats were added to the usual mix, and everyone in the higher rungs of Canterlot power soon realised that they were force to be reckoned with. When they were first sent over, no-one in Equestria could have predicted the frightening abilities of these wiry, pasty-skinned, stiff-suited creatures. The most complicated paperwork developed by the most politically motivated, special interest-funded lawyer in Canterlot was child's play to them. (It really was: when a collective of lawyers, nobles and court-members put together documents airing their legal grievances against the humans, one of them, yes, just one, had read the material and figured out how to exploit an obscenely large amount of loopholes before Celestia and Luna even began to deal with the situation).
The presence of lawyers and politicians and the like was understandable, as every government involved in the event was eager to develop the best plan of action for proceeding with relations, but as is usually the case, such a seemingly simple thing turned out to be quite the opposite. Once the language barrier had been breached thanks to a simple translation spell orchestrated by Celestia, diplomatic meetings commenced. The humans then embarked on what was apparently a mission to create the most mind-bendingly complex treaty in the known universe. Somehow though, even with all the specifics they wrote into it, it still managed to be the most irritatingly vague document (and by document I mean 8,238-page torture device) that Twilight had ever read. The humans' ability to politicize minutia was only matched by their ability to express it in the most unintelligible fashion.
Of course, Twilight had encountered humans that were just as frustrated and unwanting of such formalities as she was, but who also explained, with a great deal of regret on their bizarrely flat faces and lots of gesturing with their wormy-looking appendages, that such proceedings were necessitated by the absolute mess that passed for both domestic and international politics on their home planet of Earth.
Twilight had never managed to figure out why such outlandish systems were necessary beyond the fact that the humans had some sort of historically-based bias against forms of government that were too centralised. The downside of this was that they also preferred to not live in anarchy, meaning that the number of regulations that were needed to keep such a system in relative balance soon ballooned to a nearly unmanageable volume. This in turn led to the flourishing of Earth's various legal professions and the creation of a few new ones over the course of their history, which itself only made things worse. She had been forced to take crash courses in human history and law just to deal with the simplest of negotiations. Under any other circumstance, Twilight would have attempted to dissociate herself from such a mire as much as possible, but the fact that these humans had much to offer Equestria in the way of technology, knowledge and art, plus the fact that the more science-minded among them were clamoring for information about how magic worked (she still couldn't wrap her mind around how they were able to accomplish so much unaided by magic), meant that this sort of withdrawal was nearly impossible for her intellect and conscience to allow.
After the most recent meeting, which had taken place this afternoon, Twilight's brain felt as if it was about to explode out of her skull. It was this sensation that drove her to wander aimlessly about Canterlot in search of some sort of relief.
Suddenly, she felt the fur on the back of her neck rise up. Something about this spot felt extremely odd. Not bad, just odd. Looking to her left, she saw an alley which she was positive hadn't been there before today. She had come to know Canterlot in her years as princess and she had never noticed this alley before now. Even stranger was the fact that there was a small shop that had taken up residence at the very end of the alley. It was a simple shop built out of bricks with wide plate-glass windows on its front. The red neon sign above the door flashed "Johnny's Records".
"Johnny?" Twilight thought.
That sounded like a human name. As far as she knew, humans were not yet allowed to do business with Equestrians. This shop could potentially be a violation of the highest sort. Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Twilight cautiously proceeded down the alley and into the store.
A bell jingled as she pushed open the door. The first thing she noticed was the smell of the place. There were hints of a vaguely sweet smoke hanging in the air, but the dominant scent was stale and papery, not unlike that of an old book. The shop's human-sized shelves and tables were lined with vinyl albums. Given the sign outside, she didn't exactly expect anything else.
A human of relatively advanced age stepped up to the counter from the shadowy back room. Compared to the other male humans Twilight had seen, his mane was rather long, coming down to just above his shoulders. It was streaked through with grey, but remnants of dark brown still remained. He wore a black vest over a striped button-down shirt. Dark eyes looked down at her from behind a pair of circular glasses.
"Hello." said the man with a smile on his face and his fingers laced in front of him. "How can I help you?"
"That's interesting." thought Twilight. "Most humans have a more... dramatic first-time reaction to ponies. And what's that accent? I've heard other humans speak in it before, but I can't remember what part of their planet it comes from."
Shaking herself out of her musing, Twilight asked, "Might I ask how you got permission to establish a business here when such things are as-of-yet forbidden by law?"
A mischievous glint flickered in the man's eyes.
"Really? Forbidden? Oh dear."
Twilight supremely doubted the man's apparent contrition. She almost got the impression that he knew exactly what she was talking about but had decided to ignore it.
"Look." she said, "I would hate for this to turn into some sort of situation. I know what your race's paperwork looks like when you don't have problems. I'd hate to see it when you have legitimate disputes, and I have far too many things to deal with as it is. I can't stand to be a pain in the flank to good... people?..." (she struggled to find the right human word) "...but this is out of my hands. I can give you a few days to pack up and if you can lay low until we tie up the political ends, I'll see to it that you can get back in business."
"Hm." the man chuckled. "I guess some things never change, no matter where you are in the universe... But no, that's alright. I was probably going to be out of here by tomorrow anyway."
This only served to enhance Twilight's confusion.
"Okay, we need to straighten something out: I've never seen you or your shop before in my life. Now you suddenly show up in an alley that I'm pretty sure never existed before today, and then you tell me that you didn't plan to be here beyond tomorrow. How and why are you here? And why now?"
"Just passing through I suppose." he replied.
"That doesn't really answer the question." said Twilight, starting to get a little bit annoyed.
The man sighed through his nose.
"I guess you could say that it's karma. I made some... mistakes in my life that I never quite rectified. I hurt people that I cared about. This is the universe's payback until I find a way to set things right."
"So you just... fly around the universe in a record store to offset this 'karma' and make up for whatever it was you did wrong in your life?" asked Twilight, skepticism plastered over her face.
The man nodded his head to the side while opening and closing his hands, a gesture which Twilight had come to understand as meaning "Yes, but I don't feel like saying so because the way you just put it makes me sound ridiculous."
"You'll have to forgive me if I don't exactly find that response trustworthy."
Bizarre magic was indeed an everyday part of her life, but she still found this man's response a little deus ex machina to be true. His appearance coinciding with that of the other humans was far too convenient. But then again, humans couldn't use magic. Maybe there really was something going on that was out of his control.
"That's quite alright." said the man. "Neither do most of my customers."
What customers? Twilight wondered.
"Then why don't you tell them something else?" she asked.
"Well, most don't ask. I'm usually less obtrusive than this, seeing as my customary setting is a human one. Telling lies would defeat the purpose of my presence anyhow, seeing as I'm trying to improve myself."
"Still..." asked Twilight, "...even if what you say is true, how is traveling around in a temporal record shop key to your self-improvement?"
"It helps me give something back."
"Records?"
"Yes, but I think it's a little more than that. I help people to feel."
"What do you mean?"
"What is music to you?" he asked.
"Well..." Twilight thought a bit, "...it's vibrations. Vibrations in the air being forced into an organised pattern of rhythm and melody that are perceived as pleasing to the ear.
The man's smile broadened.
"Come with me. I want to show you something. Or rather, I want you to hear something."
He turned around, walking back to the rear of the store.
Twilight hesitated to follow, but there was something captivating about this whole situation. She had to figure out what this man's story was. Rounding the counter, Twilight joined him in the back room. Upon doing so, she saw him removing a cover (it was made out of that weird stuff the humans call "plastic") from a record player that rested on top of a small shelf filled with a mishmash of records, 33's and 45's alike mixed in with each other with no apparent organisational system in place. There was a small black and white photograph propped up next to the player. The photo was of a small, younger looking human male. Their equivalent of a foal, Twilight supposed.
Setting the cover on the floor, the man then ran his finger along one of the shelves of records and picked one out, a 45, and set it on the turntable.
"This is a song that came out pretty late in my life, if you can call this life, but it really... struck me, you know? Now before I start to play this, I would advise you to listen closely. Don't just passively absorb the sound. Really listen."
He set the needle to the record and the song began to play.
Twilight's ears perked up as the first clear, crisp chords leapt from the speakers. Her heart began to race unbidden in time with the song's tempo.
By the time the song was over, all of Twilight's prior frustrations had evapourated, replaced by what seemed like a infinite spring of happiness.
"So, what do you think?" asked the man as he removed the record.
"I think that I feel happier than I have in weeks... Don't tell Pinkie Pie: she'll probably take that personally."
The man chuckled at that.
"I think we both know that her knowledge has a tendency to transcend normal logic." he said. "I guess that's something that she and I have in common."
Twilight would have normally been surprised by such a remark, but she felt that, given the situation, it would be rather pointless.
"Now..." he began as he set another record on the turntable, "...how about this one?"
This song was drastically different. Yes, it was upbeat, but there was something in the notes, something in the singer's voice and what he said, that separated it quite strongly from the first song.
"That was awfully sad." said Twilight when it was over.
"Really? Just sad?"
"Hmm. I guess it wasn't all sad. I mean, there was a lot of talk about impermanence and violence, but it was almost hopeful. Like it was calling attention to your society's flaws, but it was was hoping that some day, they would all go away if people would just stop and think. Almost like a statement of protest against the state of things."
"You say that like you've never heard a protest song before." said the man.
"I guess I haven't." answered Twilight. "We've never really had that much to protest about."
"You must be very lucky, then. Humans have never failed to find some new way to undermine their own well-being, but there are always a few of us like this."
He gestured at the record.
"People who see things for what they are and realise that a great change is needed before we go past the point of no return. Music may seem trivial, but it has a powerful influence over people and helps them see the visions of its creators. Almost like it's something more than simple vibrating air."
This last remark was not lost on Twilight.
"Now here's one final song. Not my style at all, mind you, but I think it illustrates my point perfectly."
This time, what erupted from the speakers was an all-out assault on Twilight's senses. It seemed to be, rather than music, complete delirium put to a beat. The bass rattled in her chest, the other instruments came across as a wash of grit, and the lyrics were barely intelligible. When the record finally came to rest, she could almost feel blood trickling out of her ears.
"If I weren't against cruel and unusual punishment, I'm fairly certain that so-called song could be weaponised."
"As am I." said the man. "Beyond that, though, what is your reaction?"
"It feels angry beyond all belief." answered Twilight. "I can't imagine any decent pony harbouring such feelings."
"And there it is."
"There what is?"
"Remember what I said earlier about feeling? When people come into this store, they aren't looking for music. They're looking to feel something. When you answered my question earlier, you were right: music is just an organised collection of vibrations. My customers aren't looking for that; they're looking for the little spark of satisfaction from hearing the very first notes of their favourite song. They're looking for the wave of nostalgia experienced from hearing something that they haven't in a very long time. They're looking for the warm sensation one gets when they find a voice with whom to identify. I don't give them music. I give them happiness and sadness, ecstasy and anger, hope and closure. I help them to experience the things that cannot be perceived or expressed through words alone but can only be experienced through the vehicle of music. And maybe it can inspire them to find a musical voice of their own."
"I understand that now, but what I still don't get is the why. What's going on in the big picture?"
"Like I said, I've done some regrettable things in my life. Too many to mention. I've never given much credence to gods or an afterlife, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this is designed to get me to counteract what I've done: I've done harm to some people that really didn't deserve it."
As he said this, the man cast his eyes over the photograph.
"Through my work here, I guess I'm just doing my small part to help people out. To make up for all that I didn't do back home."
The atmosphere of the back room settled into some tone of heaviness before the man spoke up again.
"Now usually, this is the part where I leave some records with the patron and he or she walks away. But I think that given the situation at hand, you could do with a little more."
He opened a drawer on a desk off to the side and, after fiddling around a little bit, pulled out a small rectangular device with a glassy screen along with what looked like a very small pair of speakers.
"This is something that I rarely give out. Stored on this is every song written or composed by humanity. If the mood strikes you, plug it into this...", he gestured to the speakers, "... to give them a proper listen. Also, maybe try to share some of them with your peers, you know, after this whole diplomatic debacle settles down. I'm fairly certain that's something all of you could benefit from."
* * *
When Twilight woke up the next morning, she wondered if the events of the previous day had all been a dream. Then she saw the device and its speaker component residing on her bedside table. Simple as it seemed, the little device could provide an important gateway into a, from what she now realised, vastly important aspect of human life. Besides, if the little sampling from yesterday was anything to go by, human pursuits of music had explored branches of development and cultivation completely alien to Equestrians.
She regretted to leave that day, perhaps more so than any other day thus far, but rationally, she knew that she would have to attend to her duties. After running through her highly detailed morning routine and throwing on her saddle-bags (which were filled with a sadistic amount of papers), Twilight returned to the centre of Canterlot. This time, however, the very first thing she did was return to the spot where the alley had spontaneously formed the other day. All she found were the brick walls of two adjacent buildings. Neither the alley nor the record shop were to be seen. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment and sadness that she would probably never see shop or its mysterious proprietor again. There was much more, she was certain, that could be learnt from that odd human, and she supposed that there was always the possibility that he would return, but some instinctive voice in the back of her head told her that he was, in all likelihood, gone for good.
Just before she turned away, however, a flicker caught her eye. Looking closer, she saw something that made her smile. There, at the base of the brick wall, rested a pair of circular glasses. Twilight levitated them closer, putting them in her bag. As she turned away, she swore she heard somepony whistling an unfamiliar yet strangely uplifting tune.
Author's Note
My first one-shot! I feel like I started out strong and then started to loose steam towards the end, so feel free to criticise.
Also, no hate for RAtM. Just trying to envision what a first-time listener totally unacquainted with their sound might think! 
