//------------------------------//
// Magical Mystery Tour 
// Story: Played on Strings 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

The TARDIS shook violently. Vinyl clung to the railing for dear life, while Romana did much the same at the central console. “What’s happening?” Vinyl demanded. “It wasn’t like this earlier!”
“We’re traveling outside of conventional spacetime,” Romana shouted back. “The TARDIS is trying to access a point that doesn’t exist in reality.”
“That sounds dangerous!”
“It is.” The shuddering stopped, and Romana wiped her brow. “Thankfully, I have some experience with trans-reality voyages.” She reached out a hoof and flipped a switch, causing the TARDIS doors to swing open with a faint hum.
Vinyl peered out onto the street and blanched. “This doesn’t look much like Liverypool to me,” she said.
“It’s not,” Romana said, stepping out into the road. “At least, not in any form you’d be familiar with.”
The sky above was a raw, open-wound red. Clouds as black as ink floated overhead, with no pegasi there to guide them. The land was perhaps even stranger. The buildings seemed solid enough when you looked at them directly, but if you glanced away, they turned shadowy and flickering, and were most decidedly not the same when you looked back at them, even if you couldn’t put a hoof on how.
“This is a base of the Faction Paradox,” Romana said. “It… shouldn’t be here. There was only ever one strategic command center like this in all the universe, and it was devoured in the War.”
“Devoured?” Vinyl echoed.
“By a rogue TARDIS, yes.”
Vinyl looked back at the blue box, perplexed. The light on top seemed to wink at her, and she quickly looked away again. “So, uh, where do we go from here?” she asked.
“The TARDIS listed their birthplace as the Meadowbrook Hospital of Liverypool,” Romana mused. “It should be quite close by. Keep your eyes keen for it.”
Vinyl glanced down the street, catching sight of a big red cross down the road. “That looks pretty likely,” she said, starting towards it at a canter, Romana falling into step at her side.
The hospital was a tall, square building of brick and mortar. It looked old and respectable. The same could not be said for the great spidery metal structures that poked through the windows.
“What…” Vinyl began.
Romana’s eyes went wide as she saw them. “No,” she said. “No, even they couldn’t possibly…” She cut herself off and went into a dead gallop into the hospital. Vinyl hesitated only a moment before rushing after her.





The inside of Meadowbrook of Liverypool was unlike the outside in almost every regard. Vinyl had expected tile floors and sterile, clinical cinderblock walls. Instead, she was faced with something almost organic. The wood floor felt soft, almost rotten as it bent under her hooves, but the boards looked healthy and strong. The walls themselves thrummed with a strange, rhythmic energy, like there was somewhere within the facility a distant, pumping heart. Cobweb-like material hung in corners and doorways, but when Vinyl ran through it, it tore strangely. It felt warm. It was almost like skin.
Thankfully, she didn’t have time to think about that much, because she was still chasing Romana through the corridors of this twisted building. The Time Lady seemed to run almost on instinct, up stairs and down halls, growing ever closer to the center of the building. All the while, the ‘heartbeat’ that made the walls pulse like a living being grew louder and clearer.
Then, all of a sudden, Romana came to a halt. Vinyl nearly smashed into her. “Romana? What? What’s the matter?”
Romana opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She appeared to be lost for words. After several seconds, she closed her mouth again and swallowed hard. “I can hear them,” she said at last, her voice hollow. “Torn from their home, stolen and mangled and twisted…”
Vinyl looked up at the name over the door. ‘Nursery’ it read, in bold blue letters. Slowly, she pushed open the door and peered in.
The whole of it was too much to take in, so she had to take it all in chunks. The rows of cylindrical steel and glass tanks that lined the walls, each one filled with a kind of viscous golden light, each one holding a floating infant form. The circle of candles in front of each one of those tanks, each one surrounding a pattern of strange and swirling symbols on the floor, each of them with the skull of some apelike creature in the center. The pulsing, organic cables of webbing that flowed from each tank, up along the walls, each one beating in time to a different rhythm, each one reaching back to the machine at the heart of the whole mind-bending display.
It looked like a player piano had mated with a pipe organ atop a symphony orchestra, a vast and mechanical display of keys and pipes and strings and drums all playing at once in dread cacophony, all with no creature sitting there to manage them. At least, Vinyl realized as she looked closer, no living creature. Certainly no whole one.
The whole display was bedecked with dead, pallid lumps of flesh and bone, all of them perfectly preserved and artfully arranged on the instruments. One couldn’t be friends with Lyra without recognizing them for what they were. Hands. Hands that clutched drumsticks, guitars, violins, saxophones. Hands that splayed out over keyboards. Hands that made all kinds of strange, arcane gestures that Vinyl couldn’t even begin to guess at the meaning of. There were several tongues, too, wagging over a series of microphones held tight in the clammy grasp of yet more of those disembodied hands.
“Hey, Romana?” Vinyl whispered. “What the fuck?”
Romana looked like she might throw up right then and there. “Perverted Looms,” she said softly. “Worse even than the remembrance tanks.”
“The what?” Vinyl asked.
Romana licked her lips nervously, casting nervous glances around the room. “Looms. They’re how Time Lords have reproduced for centuries, ever since the Pythia’s Curse rendered our entire species sterile. They weave biodata into new bodies.”
Vinyl paused for a long moment. “Wait. If Time Lords reproduce like this, then how did Dinky --”
“Oh, the curse was broken by my alter-time self during the early stages of her presidency,” Romana said dismissively. “Practically a lifetime before Ditzy and the Doctor met. But Time Lords are a conservative lot, and the Looms made birthing much more convenient, so they remained in vogue for many Houses. And then, during the war… well, they were hardly the only thing to be weaponized.”
Vinyl looked into the room, wide-eyed. “I -- they weaponized babies?”
Romana snorted softly. “Everything was a weapon. I dream of them, sometimes. There were poems that could delete an entire planet from the timeline. A gentle flap of a butterfly’s wing could result in the assassination of a foreign leader on a backwater planet. A warm summer breeze might --”
“I get the idea,” Vinyl said. “So… what do these do?”
Romana took in a long breath, then stepped into the room beyond, walking gingerly, as though any wrong step might take her hoof off. “They look like remembrance tanks,” she said. “A common tool of low-level Faction members, used to bring back the dead based on memories of others.”
“That sounds… kinda useful, actually,” Vinyl said, stepping into the nursery after Romana.
“In a sense,” Romana said, gazing into each tank in turn. “It made for troops that were difficult for time-inactive cultures to destroy. You wouldn’t want to use them to try and bring back a loved one, though.”
“Why not?”
Romana paused and looked at Vinyl. “What was Octavia’s favorite thing to have for lunch in elementary school?”
“...Huh?”
“What bowtie was she wearing on your second date? Can you remember the exact details of a conversation you had with her last week?”
“No.”
“The memory cheats,” Romana said, looking away again. “It loses information, and fills in the blanks with biases and convenient lies. You might bring back somepony you love, but they won’t be the same pony you lost.”
“Oh. So… who are these guys trying to bring back?”
“Good question,” Romana said thoughtfully. “At a guess… musicians.”
Vinyl cast another glance at the wall of dead hands. “Thanks for the insight,” she said flatly. Then, she froze, catching sight of something in one of the tanks. Bright blue coat, brown mane and tail floating, splayed out around an unconscious filly form. She pointed. “That… that’s Beauty Brass,” she said, voice tight.
Romana didn’t look at her. “I did tell you that this was where they were all born,” she said softly.
Vinyl looked around the room again, eyes wide. She saw baby Harpo, curled into a little ball. She saw baby Fred, floating upside down in his tank.
She saw baby Octavia.
Vinyl barely realized she was running at the tank until Romana grabbed her and pushed her firmly to the ground mere feet from where it stood, sending her sunglasses skittering along the ground. She looked up at the other mare, furious. “I have to save her.”
“If you take her out of that tank before she's ready, you’ll almost certainly kill her,” Romana said sternly. “Moreover, if you take her out of her timestream, then you’ll never meet her in the future. She has to stay where she is. No interference.”
Vinyl looked mutinous for another few moments, then slumped back, clearly relenting. “Fine,” she said. “So what can we do?”
Romana contemplated that for a moment. “This is a fact-finding mission,” she said. “I sincerely doubt we’ve found everything we can learn about this room. We need to keep looking.”
“Sure. But you can study the fucked-up hand machine on your own, I’m not going near that thing.”
Romana cast her eyes over the monstrous thing with disfavor. “Fair enough,” she admitted. “Fine. You keep looking at the tanks, but don’t --”
“I know, I know, I won’t,” Vinyl said.
“Don’t step in the candle circles, either,” Romana added, looking at them warily. “The Faction Paradox disguises a great deal of their advanced technology behind rituals and idols. The candles might not be just there for the aesthetic.”
“Noted.” Vinyl looked around the grim old room and selected a tank based on no other criteria than that she didn’t recognize the pony inside. Or rather, she realized as she drew closer, she didn’t recognize the yak calf floating in the golden glowing stuff that filled the tank. Looking more closely at the other tanks, she saw baby zebras, baby dragons, griffon chicks, minotaur calves, diamond dog pups, changeling pupae, and more. Only about half of the tanks that she could see contained ponies.
She returned her attention to the tank she had chosen, carefully skirting around the circle on the floor. Cautiously, Vinyl put her hoof up against the tank itself. She could feel it vibrating with the force coming from the rotting organ in the center of the complex.
Vinyl shut her eyes and felt the vibrations for a few minutes longer. Then, before she could think better of it, she turned her head and pressed her ear up against the glass. She jerked back almost immediately in surprise. She could hear music in there, faint and distorted through the thick glass, but certainly present.
Pushing her head back against the glass, Vinyl shut her eyes tight and listened. She could even hear faint words, though they didn’t make complete sense to her. “Hey -- Romana?”
“Yes?”
“How much do you know about history?”
Vinyl could almost feel the eyebrow being arched. “Yeah, fine, stupid question. Anyway, what’s a water loo, and why would uh… I think they said ‘Neighpoleon’... surrender there?”
Romana paused. “Come again?”
“Because, you know, Octavia sometimes calls the toilet ‘the loo’, so a water loo sounds like just a normal bathroom, right?”
“Vinyl --”
“And, uh, I’m not a historian, but Neighpoleon, did he… win when he lost?” Vinyl shook her head. “I dunno. Weird lyrics. Great tune, though, I’ll give the fucked-up pipe organ that much credit…”
Romana hurried over to press her ear against the tank as well. After a few seconds, her eyes went wide. She tried another one and muttered something about a queen, and then at another one, she said something about spices and girls. She straightened up. “Vinyl, check on Octavia and Harpo, I’ll see to Beauty and Fred.”
Romana’s tone brooked no argument, nor did Vinyl see cause to put up one. She pressed her ear to each tank in turn, then looked back to Romana. “Harpo’s was something about a garden full of octopusses.”
“Octopi,” Romana corrected.
“No, the song said octopusses.”
Romana’s lip twitched, but she merely asked, “And Octavia?”
Vinyl looked uncertain, now. “Yeah. That one was weird. I figured it out, though, the band behind these songs.”
Romana’s jaw dropped. “You did?”
“Yeah! They even said it; Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. You ever hear of them?”
“...In a sense,” Romana said. “I think… yes, I think I’m beginning to understand, now. We should head back to the TARDIS, we ought not to hang around here any longer than we need.”
“We’re just gonna leave the babies?” Vinyl asked, incredulous.
“Like I said, if we take them out now, they’ll almost certainly die,” Romana said. “I’m sorry, Vinyl. There’s nothing we can do here.”
Vinyl shut her eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
She turned back to Octavia’s tank and rested a hoof on the glass. “Don’t worry, Tavi. I’m coming to save you.” She leaned in and kissed the glass, then turned and walked toward the door, head down.
Romana patted her on the withers, and both mares began the trek back out of the hospital.





Octavia made her way to the gig alone, her cello case bumping against her side as she trotted down the hill from Keys’ house. The evening was still and quiet. It felt like the whole world had heaved a final sigh and just couldn’t be bothered to breathe in again.
She could almost sympathize.
Things got a little better when she got into the town proper and saw ponies moving about the streets. She could see life, even if she wasn’t feeling it right now. Some ponies paused as she passed by, pointing and whispering, but she couldn’t even bring herself to smile and wink back.
She just trudged along until the pavements turned to carpet turned to wood flooring and the sound of an argument finally pierced her mind.
Octavia glowered up from where she was listlessly sat in front of a mirror. (How long had she been sitting there? How had she gotten here? Where was here?)
Beauty and Frederick were on the other side of the dressing room, looking fit to tear each other’s heads off. Octavia snarled and grabbed something off the table to throw at them. A vase of flowers shattered against the wall and scattered along the floor. Fred and Beauty stopped to glare back at Octavia. “Yes?” Fred demanded. “Can we help you?”
“Would you just shut up?” Octavia responded. “Either go to counseling or save yourself some cash and just divorce already. Spare me the theatrics.”
“The hell do you know?” Beauty demanded, storming toward Octavia. “Cheeky little -- I ought to rearrange your face!”
“Not when we’re about to go on,” Fred said, resigned.
Beauty subsided slightly. “Not when we’re about to go on,” she concurred. She paused and rested her head in her hooves. “Celestia, but I feel awful,” she groaned. “Did I just threaten to beat you up?”
“Believe so,” Octavia said.
Beauty shook her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she said.
“What’s gotten into all of us,” Frederick muttered darkly.
Octavia took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to find herself again. “Nor do I,” she said. “Why don’t we start with what’s bothering the two of you?”
“None of your business!” Beauty said shortly, then covered her mouth with her hooves. “Luna dammit,” she muttered.
Frederick pursed his lips, struggling to find the right words. “We’ve been… trying to have a foal,” he said.
Octavia brightened. “Oh, but that’s brilliant,” she said. “You two will be great parents!” She hesitated. “Provided, you know, you can get through whatever the Tartarus all this is.”
Beauty gave a small smile at that. “Hah. Thanks,” she replied. “Trouble is, whenever we try and get down to it, one of us always gets cold hooves.”
“She’ll back out because she’s not ready to commit to it, or I’ll start worrying about our finances or about turning out like my old man, or we’ll just have a massive fight just beforehoof,” Fred said, shaking his head. “After a few days, it all cools down a little, but when we bring up the topic again, some new obstacle rises to block us.”
“I see,” Octavia said, furrowing her brow.
“What can we do?” Beauty asked. “It’s like the whole universe has it out for us.”
Octavia chuckled. “Yeah. I know how you feel,” she said. “That’s how it felt sometimes when I was courting Vinyl. The schedules wouldn’t align, or I’d get distracted and run late for our date…”
“I remember that,” Fred said thoughtfully. “The two of you broke up a couple times, didn’t you?”
Octavia nodded. “But I kept tryin’,” she said. “If it hadn’t nearly always been my fault, I might not have, you know. But she was always so patient with me… I just knew that I couldn’t just give up on her. That I had to try an’ change for her. Be a better mare.”
She chuckled. “I was almost ready to quit the Krikkits for her, you know? But then things started going right. I don’t know if I got more compassionate or if the universe just got tired of fighting me, but I married that mare an’ I never once regretted it.”
Beauty snorted. “You sayin’ that love conquers all, Tavi?”
Octavia tilted her head. “Somethin’ like that, yeah.” She smiled. “Love and blind, stupid pigheadedness, anyway. That’s how I know the two of you can get through this.”
Hesitantly, her bandmates smiled back. For a moment, the lights in the room flickered and dimmed from a rich gold to a soft fluorescent yellow.
Then the door slammed open and the moment was broken. “Tapper!” Octavia yelped, for it was indeed their conductor standing in the doorway, her mane affright. “Haven’t you ever heard of knockin’?”
“Harpo,” Baton Tap said. “Have any of you seen Harpo tonight?”
“...No,” Octavia said. “At least, I don’t reckon…?” She glanced at Fred and Beauty, who both shook their heads in turn.
“I see,” Tapper said. “Well… Keep an eye out for him, won’t you?”
“It’s a bit late to start askin’ that now,” Octavia said. “We’re on in an hour and a half, we’ve not even warmed up yet!”
“Yes, well,” Tapper said. “I’ll get some stagehands to start searching for him. If he doesn’t turn up on time… well, we’ll deal with that when we deal with it.”
She turned and trotted out of the room, leaving the bandmates alone with their own silent worries.





The walk back out seemed longer and darker than the walk in had been, most likely because Vinyl wasn’t running pell-mell through the corridors and actually had time to look at the decor of the hospital. It was dark, with narrow halls and ceilings that seemed higher than they ought to be. The darkness seemed to pool in corners and flow down the halls like water, and like water Vinyl was gripped with a stone certainty that there was something swimming in those shadows. 
As they were passing by a ragged sheet of something that looked like cobweb, but decidedly wasn’t, Vinyl turned to Romana to ask about it.
Before she could even form the question, the Time Lady shook her head. “You’re happier not knowing,” she said firmly. “Just consider it… biowaste, and leave it at that.”
Vinyl barely repressed a shudder and moved on, one hoof after the other, back toward the gruesome red light of the street outside.
After what felt like an age, they were back in the atrium of the hospital, the light shining oddly through the glass doors and casting strange, misshapen shadows on the ground. Vinyl didn’t care. Through those doors, freedom awaited her. She just kept moving, just kept moving across the floor.
“Ahem!”
The sound rang like a gunshot in the silent hospital. Both Romana and Vinyl froze in place and turned to look at the source of the voice. A figure, her ashen purple coat almost completely hidden by the nurse outfit and skull mask that she wore, sat at the billing department counter, hooves resting on the desk. She waved at them, her mask's sharp white teeth glinting in the red light. “Going somewhere?” she asked.
Up from the shadows, a figure rose, holding a katana. Vinyl froze as she felt the phantom blade come to rest against her throat. Cousin Rita rose from her position and leapt gracefully over the counter. “Let’s talk about your healthcare plan,” she purred. “And keep your wits about you, or it’ll cost you an arm and a leg.”
“A forehoof and a hindhoof,” Romana corrected archly.
Vinyl gasped and blood began to run from a slim line across her throat. Romana’s eyes went wide.
Rita grinned broadly. “How sweet. It’s almost like you care about her. Now, shall I tell you how you’re getting out of this alive?
“...Fine,” said Romana. “Let’s hear it.”
“Lovely. Come, let’s get comfortable. I’ll show you to the waiting room.”