Seven Flat Nine

by Betless

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Romance, Slice of Life, Human
Length: 2515

Extending a previously established chord...

To create a great story, sometimes all you need are the essentials.
But as in music theory, stories can be colored by a few well-placed extensions...

(Holds discussion of slavery and oppression, don't get mad at me for reciting history please!)

Part 2 of the Progression Series.

Published 2019-08-30 03:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-08-30 03:30:01 UTC

Sharp Eleven

The clock above the mantle softly chimes out eleven-o-clock.

In the night, of course. Nothing really's very special about eleven-o-clock in the morning, except maybe that one book by Graeme Base...do you really expect me to have the time to find a thousand one hundred eleven mice? Not gonna happen.

"Twilight, has anything interesting ever happened at eleven-o-clock in the morning?" I say, turning around in my chair. "'Cause for me, it's always been the most boring hour of the day."

Pausing in her work, she glances over. "...I think so, I can't remember right but I think I met my first hydra about that time."

"Huh, maybe it's just me then." Scratching my head, I bend my quill down to the paper again. Where was I? Oh, right, measure fourty-one. This was where Debussy really started to hit his shine, I thought. Quickly notating the duplet in the first half of the phrase, I thanked my lucky stars for a somewhat good audio-visual memory. Ask me what I've had for breakfast? No way. When I was on Earth, I could hardly remember what my mom told me two minutes ago. Ask me to sing the entire lyrics to Barenaked Ladies' One Week? Hell yeah, brother. Ed Robertson lives on in Equestria, although Twilight was very confused when she walked in on me rapping about Sting doing...

Well, I mean, he was Sting. Of all the people to branch out into the more exotic types of exercise, it was gonna be him.

Of course, I didn't explain what tantric se--tantric yoga was to Twilight. Although, surprisingly enough, it does exist in Equestria...a trip to the Canterlot Library taught me that. Turns out Twilight hadn't read every book in there.

Frowning, I notice my quill's dropped a bit of ink on the paper, serendipitously nowhere crucial. Nopony's going to mistake that for a quarter note, thank Celestia. Fifteen minutes later, I pick up the last finished sheet of parchment paper. "Done! Another classic from an Impressionist who left an impression on society." Putting down a quill of her own, Twilight walks over and picks the quintuplet of papers from the table.

"Claire de Lune? Ooh, looks interesting. I'll have to give this to Spike, he knows the piano."

I snort, looking away. "So do I..."

"You do??" Twilight seems baffled. "What? How have I not heard about this?"

"It never came up, I guess."

"Really?" Twilight raises her eyebrows. "Huh. Well, we'll have to get you on a piano sometime soon so you can play this for me."

"That'd be cool," I say, on the outside. 'OH PLEASE YES YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME!' I say, on the inside.

You see, ponies, having hooves, obviously, do not have a wide variety of dexterous maneuvers they can do with them, as opposed to a creature with, say, two flat, five digit grasping appendages with 27 separate bones and over 22 points of articulation including an opposeable thumb. Thus, with limited fine motor control, only specially trained ponies can conquer the absolutely out-of-place-in-an-alien-world piano, clearly designed for creatures with fingers.

Interestingly but rather predictably, Twilight told me early on in my life in Equestria that the piano and its precursor the harpsichord were invented in...Griffonstone. Ah, how appropriate. Not only that they actually have talons to play them, but that the Germany of this world is the birthplace of the keyboard. I wish I'd been around to talk to Griffon Bach. Wait...was he a chicken? Hahaha! Bach Bach Bach! Like a chicken, right...that would make too much sense.

All other things aside, the point I keep reaffirming to myself is that pianos are extremely rare in Equestria, and more than that, expensive. Don't want to waste bits on something worth essentially the same value as a new Audi. Yes, I did the math.

"Learning about these composers from your world is absolutely fascinating," Twilight continues, snapping me out of my reverie--ooh, I should do that piece next,--as she lays the papers carefully down on my desk again.

"Yeah, it's interesting to see that even though many things in Equestria are similar to my old world," I say thoughtfully, "the fact remains there are many, many more that are completely different. Music, for example.

"Although jazz music exists in Equestria, the reason behind its development is vastly different from mine..." I trail off as I notice Twilight's wide eyes fixed on me, a notepad and quill in her magic and a goofy smile on her face. Shaking my head and smirking, I decide to continue my history lesson. "Whereas jazz music in Equestria came about as the result of exploratory ponies, zebras, griffons and the like building upon and deliberately breaking the fundamentals of music theory developed in the Equestrian Renaissance, jazz music in my world came about because of a...terrible case of hypocrisy."

Twilight frowned at that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I pondered how to pose this answer without accidentally insulting anypon--wait, anypony. There's nobody here to insult, huh. I guess...but how would I...aha. "You remember what Sombra did to the Crystal Empire, right? How he enslaved an entire group of people and whatnot?" She nods, eyebrows tightening in obvious displeasure. Oof. Welp, get it over with. "Well, in my world, about three hundred years or so before my time, some people in Europe had the morally degenerative idea to do just about the same thing," I said, noticing Twilight's shock. "I might explain some more. Just like ponies have different kinds, earth, pegasus, and unicorn, my world has different kinds of humans, based more on where they live. The primary indicator for what race a human is lies in their skin color, which ranges from pretty stark white to a almost pitch brown.

"Now, the lighter-skinned humans in Europe thought they, being lighter-skinned, were better than those with darker skin, which," I grimace, "when you stop to think about it, makes absolutely no sense." Twilight nods, saying, "That's just awful! But not entirely without counterpart in Equestrian history." She pulls a book off the shelf, Pre-Equestrian History Volume One. "Tribal politics before the unification of the three tribes of ponies was characterized by each race holding a terrible and unwarranted stigma against the others."

I nod. "Just about, yeah. So, when the Europeans found the continent of Africa, where lived a number of darker-skinned people, they thought to themselves, 'oh lucky me, free labor from what to our minds seem like inferior beings,' and started enslaving as many as they could find. This turned into quite the lucrative business," I say, sighing and slumping in my chair. "Slave traders made mountains off of what they did, selling these villagers-turned-slaves to families who needed hands around the house or at the farm."

Seeing Twilight's distress, I continue the story to get it over with. "Anyway, these slave traders also had a business going in the New World, a land across the sea from Europe and Africa. There, the slaves would be put to work on sugar cane and cotton plantations, both of which were notorious for the amount of labor they needed." Turning to face Twilight again, I raised an index finger. "But while on these plantations, with nothing to do except work, these slaves spent their working time singing hymns, chants, and songs they made up themselves to make the time go by easier."

"Fast forward to the late 1800s, when all slaves were finally legally freed. Discrimination still held firm, however, so most of the darker-skinned ex-slave and descendants thereof set up their own places of worship and such." I grinned, this was where it started getting less depressing. "These churches fused the style of hymns and songs the plantation slaves invented with traditional worship music, creating the genre of music known as 'gospel.'"

Twilight's quill is moving so fast I swear I see smoke rising from the notepad. Waiting for her to settle down, I pause. "Characterized by harmonies, dense instrumentation, and above all else: a sort of musical 'freedom,' where the feel of the music was the most important factor. Little did those early churches know, they would be pivotal in the evolution of world music. The same musical freedom began to gradually seep out into broad American culture, and even some European composers, like Maurice Ravel and Claude Debussy," here I lift up the papers again, "used some of the harmonic concepts and ideas they saw in gospel in their own music."

I wave my hand, coming to a conclusion. "That musical freedom is the same that drives jazz, either in my old world or in this one."

Twilight finishes scrawling in her notes. "That's incredible! Admittedly, it shows a large difference in what's considered acceptable in our worlds," she looks down at the floor, "since slavery has been outlawed since before Celestia and Luna came to power."

"Yeah, well what can I say?" I shrug. "I can't justify the actions of my ancestors, nor can I change them, no matter how much I wish I might do so. I suppose it's just up to us to make sure our mistakes don't occur again."

She thinks about that for a while, but looks at me with appreciation in her eyes. "That's a good philosophy to have, Ketrand."

To be that cute surely is a crime against dignity, I think, hoping furiously I'm not blushing. "Oh, thanks..." I clear my throat, and turn my chair around. "Well, I hope you enjoyed your history lesson."

"Oh, I did, although I do have a few--"

"The year 1800 refers to 1800 years after Christ, a crucial religious figure in Christianity, the same religion of the churches gospel music was pioneered in. Its primary tenets include love of neighbor, acceptance of others regardless of their circumstances or actions, and improving self in regards to morals and communion with God capital G. Uh...the slaves were freed, at least in America, by the passing of the bill the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, by the, at the time, head of the three-branch federal republican democracy, Abraham Lincoln. America is the primary power in the New World, and coincidentally, my country of origin," I say, not even turning back to her. "Any other questions?" I know the answer.

"...Yes..."

I chuckle, and turn my chair around again. Gonna be a long three hours.

It's been about a week or so since he first really opened up about the history of his world, explaining jazz music, of all things. I can see why he'd be careful who he tells, though. I shudder to think of all those poor humans enslaved by their own race...but that's a different world, or dimension, or universe. A different history, perhaps Equestria might have been that way had history taken a different turn? That's a chilling thought.

Blinking, I come back to the moment. What was I looking for? Oh, right, the sheet! Trotting downstairs, I pick a spare bedsheet off the shelf and with it in tow, head to the front door.

Thank heavens I managed to get him out of the house for this, I think. He's having lunch with Rainbow Dash and Spike. Somehow, Rainbow's gotten really into jazz music recently...I wouldn't have put it past her, but apparently it's 'like flying with music,' or some other simile. So they've gone out to lunch at Ponyville's singular jazz bar, presumably to peruse what Bluenote and his pals have going on. I, of course, made an excuse that I had to 'organize the decimal cards' and they bought it. Heehee...the look on his face when he gets back!

The delivery chariot touches down in front of the house, and the unicorn along for the ride walks up and knocks on the front door. "Good afternoon, Miss," he says, tipping his hat. "If you'd sign right here...perfect! Thank you kindly, Miss. If you need help movi...alright," he says, noticing I've already teleported it inside. "Looks like you've got it handled. Have a nice day!"

"You too, thanks!" I say, going back inside. The chariot takes off again.

Turning to the object in at the side of the room, I grin madly. Carefully covering it with the sheet, I chuckle. Walking into the library, I pick up the box of decimal cards and begin filing them. What? It always pays to be organized.

Half an hour later, I'm sitting in the foyer reading a new addition to my collection, Fundamentals of Music Theory by Miles Headland, when there's a cheery knock on the door. "I'm back, Twilight!" he says as he ducks through the door. "Turns out my experience with the Chrono Trigger soundtrack made me Bluenote's favorite extra-worldly being!"

Laughing at his antics, I say, "How was it, aside from your encyclopedic knowledge of music making you new friends?"

"Oh, it was great! There's this one song they played in their set called 'Radon Side,' which really was...a..."

He's finally noticed the new object at the side of the room.

"No," he says in disbelief. "No way. There's no way you--what, no. What." After a few seconds of standing there in indecision, he finally snaps and dead-on sprints at the thing, ripping the sheet off.

"Holy...sweet stars above, it's beautiful."

It is. It's a 904 Steinway I, one of the first truly great grand pianos, and commonly considered one of Griffonstone's finest achievements.

"I...I don't know what to say...what..." he says, trailing off, but soon enough he frowns. "How much was it."

Luckily, I anticipated the question. "I asked Princess Celestia and she made a generous contribution of bits. Thought you could use it better than a stuffy collector."

That seems to mollify him, and he collapses onto the piano bench. There's already a stack of paper on the music stand. I'll give you one guess what song it is.

Glancing at me, he puts his hands on the keys, and plays the first few notes.

Throughout the rest of the song, it's as if even Harmony itself stood still and listened.

Letting the last chord ring out until the strings stop vibrating, he sighs, the sigh of a pony settling into an armchair in front of a cozy fire in a home they know is their own. "There really is no way I could ever repay you, Twilight," he says.

I notice a mistiness to his eyes. "I know it means a lot to you," I say. "But really, all you need to do is to play it. If that song is any indication of your skill, I'd love to hear more."

Abrubtly, he stands up, and walks over to my chair. Reaching down, he grabs me and pulls me into a hug.

Startled for a second, I nonetheless hug back.

"...Thanks."

Author's Note

No matter how I word it, somebody's gonna get mad at me.

But if it weren't for slavery and the Church, jazz as we know it would not exist.
Kind of a wacky thing to think about, isn't it?

-B