Vinyl Scratch tossed her mane about, absorbed in the sounds emanating from her headphones. Her persona of DJ-PON3 was one of the most popular entertainers for the less posh crowd that made up much of Canterlot's younger generation. Eventually most of them would cease their rebellious activities and allow themselves to be groomed for whatever family business they were born into. Currently, she was poised on a stage in a darkened bar called 123⅛ nestled beneath the streets of the city. It was only accessible via a sewer grate on the sidewalk above. Nopony but the owner seemed to get the reference, which didn't matter to him. All that really mattered was that the place was hopping, the pizza was delicious, and the featured DJ did her job.
She smiled to herself behind the massive stacks of speakers and computer consoles that provided her the ability to truly express her talent. Her beats pulsed through the club with mathematical precision, perfectly balanced equations of tones and instrumental notes sampled from a dozen different musicians flowing through her system and out to wash over the crowd and move them.
Nopony could see, but her eyes were closed behind the opaque glasses she wore. Partly for style, the glasses were primarily because the unicorn could barely see the nose on her face. They also kept the comments about the color of her eyes to a minimum. The only times she ever took them off were to bathe or to sleep. Completely lost in the sounds she was producing, Vinyl snatched up a new record in her magic and slipped it seamlessly into its slot in the endless flow of her music. Hours would pass her by without notice, her mind lost in the equations and formulas of the sound. The only clue her set was about to end was the empty rack of records to her left. The entire complement had been shifted into the rack on her right. Shaking herself free of her trance, she made the same announcement she made after every show, "Thank you, everypony! I'm DJ-PON3 and it has been my great pleasure to keep you fillies and colts dancing all night! I hope to see each and every one of you at my next set!"
The crowd cheered for her as she thrust her hooves into the air, spinning the last two records on them as the digital tracks of her music thrummed down to the end. She smiled, breathing heavily as she always did after a set. Her mind may have been leading the music, but the music lead her body as it did everypony's.
The exhausted mare stepped down from her position in the booth and slipped over to the bar. A stool was vacated as she approached and she slipped onto it, the crowd of ponies rapidly thinning out now that the music had stopped. The owner came out from the back room and stood in front of her.
"Good show, Vee. Need a drink?" he asked with a bright smile.
"Thanks, just a nice cold bottle of water, please, Deck."
"No prob, here you go!" the stallion obliged, levitating a bottle over to her.
She twisted off the top and took a grateful drink. The shows always made her desperately thirsty, but only rarely remembered to actually drink during her set. The pony looked around the club and smiled. The dance floor was clearing steadily, but everypony looked happy and exhausted. She had done her job well tonight. Nodding to herself, Vinyl slugged the rest of her water and wandered over to lock up her equipment for the night. She had two more shows here and Deck always let her leave her gear. Securing it was just her OCD cropping up again. Deck was a trustworthy pony, but she never left anything out and unlocked, just in case.
Vinyl left the bar in high spirits, heading straight back to her small apartment as always. The walk was never interesting, until tonight, apparently.
"Miss Scratch?" came a slightly scratchy voice behind her.
Almost jumping out of her skin, the mare turned, horn glowing slightly to light the area. She was also ready to attack or defend as needed, no sense in letting all those self-defense classes go to waste, "Who's asking?"
"I apologize for startling you, but you had already left when I arrived. My name is Rustler Nash, and I would like to offer you a chance to perform for some of Canterlot's most prestigious individuals at a festival of the arts next month."
"You... do know all my music is electronic, right? I don't exactly play an instrument."
"I understand, Miss Scratch. We'd like to offer a full spectrum of musical talent. Please, take my card. Your tentative performance schedule is on the back. You will be compensated for your performances, of course. We're willing to offer your standard rate plus twenty percent."
"Tempting. I'll get back in touch with you tomorrow. I could use some sleep," she said, excusing herself with a yawn.
Mr. Nash bowed and turned, leaving the unicorn to her own devices. The trip back to her apartment was otherwise uneventful. Vinyl happily collapsed on her bed, dumping her covers over herself with her magic. Sleep found her swiftly as it always did after a good set, and the mare began to snore softly in short order. Dreams of sound waves and numbers wandered through her mind.
Octavia sighed and thumped a hoof off the wooden floor of the stage. The conductor was droning on about how the piece was supposed to make the listener feel and how best to express that with careful volume control and perfect play. Twirling her bow on her hoof, the earth pony cellist stared out past the unicorn conductor to the empty concert hall. In two days it would be filled with as many of the Canterlot elite as they could fit. Two more days of insufferable droning and never-ending practice sessions. Running a hoof through her mane, the mare shifted uncomfortably in the rickety metal chair she had been placed in.
Life as a session musician was something she only occasionally enjoyed. Her skill with the cello was unparalleled, and so she was in high demand. The fact of the matter remained that she was incredibly bored with classical music. She much preferred working with the small jazz bands that played the small clubs. The only reason Octavia ever worked for an orchestra was because they paid her extremely well. The small jobs were for the fun of it, and the release to go absolutely wild on her cello. The carefully measured notes of the songs she was constantly required to play for the orchestra felt restraining and while she enjoyed listening to it, playing it was insufferably dull. There was no room for improvisation. No room for true expression.
Finally, the conductor raised his wand, signalling that it was at last time to play. The cellist stood and balanced her instrument against her chest, settling her hoof onto the proper strings and lining up the bow. The elderly unicorn leading the orchestra counted off slowly and the song began. Octavia let her mind wander off, having played this particular piece at least a hundred times since her career began. She thought back to the offer she had received while tuning. A very nice gentlecolt had introduced himself as a Mr. Nash, and offered her several solo performances at the Canterlot Festival of the Arts.
It was the perfect opportunity. A smile spread across her lips as the mare thought of all the wonderful songs she could play without constraint. Different songs for each show even! This was going to be the best experience since the day she had gotten her cutie mark. She turned her purple eyes onto the rest of the orchestra around her. Not a single one had been approached by Nash other than herself. Octavia allowed her smile to take on a smug undertone while she played.
Several interminable hours later, gray coat slightly sweaty from the stage lighting, Octavia packed her cello away and slung it onto her back. She forced her way through several banal conversations on the way out, other performers hollowly complimenting her performance. Returning the majority of the compliments with false sincerity, aside from a rather attractive flautist who had done a stunning job with her performance. Afterward, the tired pony made her way out and off towards the apartment she temporarily called home. Her house in Ponyville was under remodeling, so she chose to stay in Canterlot while the work was done. It worked out well with the concert schedule she had, so why not.
Unlocking the door and entering, she carefully set her cello down in its place by the music stand in her sparsely furnished living area. A glass of wine and a small daisy sandwich were the perfect cap to the evening as she sat on her beaten old recliner and listened to some classic jazz on her record player. After tidying up the kitchen and carefully returning her record to its place on the shelf, she adjourned to the bath where she could cleanse herself of the sweat and stuck-up-edness of the practice session. The bowtie that forever adorned her neck was placed with care on its hook for retrieval in the morning.
At last clean and relaxed, it was time for this gray pony to sleep. Her temporary bed was a small futon set up against a wall on the far side of the studio apartment from the door. Making sure that her door was locked, Octavia laid herself down on the abused mattress and slowly dozed off. Her dreams were of success, a solo recording contract, and a few certain things she would never discuss in polite company.