//------------------------------// // The Doctor's Stories // Story: Syncopation // by Terrasora //------------------------------// “Welcome to Bon Bon’s Confectionary, is there anything I can help you with this evening?” A cream colored earth pony stood behind a counter, maintaining a light smile as she addressed the Doctor and Octavia. “Though the Doctor knows this shop about as well as I do.” The stallion waved. “Evening, Bonnie! Had a good day?” Bon Bon gestured dismissively. “Slow day. We’re probably gonna lose the shop,” she said brightly. “You say that every time I come in here,” said the Doctor, walking towards a display case. “I’m starting to think that it’s a lie.” The candy maker shrugged. “It could be. You should buy more candy, just to make sure.” The Doctor grinned in return. “Come on, Octavia,” he said turning slightly. “Pick out anything you like; I’m buying.” Bon Bon turned to the cellist. “Did the Doctor drag you here?” Octavia gave a tight smile, unwilling to break her sour mood. Sour in a sweets shop. How ironic. Bon Bon’s own bright mood didn’t slip. “Please forgive him; the Doctor doesn’t really understand the concept of boundaries.” The Doctor popped up next to Bon Bon, leaning in close. “Boundaries, what good are boundaries? All they do is bind things, trying to tell me what I can and can’t do. Useless!” “Doctor, go back to your Jelly Babies.” The stallion trotted to a corner, where he busied himself by filling a paper bag with candies. He muttered numbers to himself all the while, trying to find the greatest amount of candies he could fit into the bag. Bon Bon turned back to Octavia. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you one of Lyra’s classmates?” The cellist nodded. “I thought so, you looked familiar,” she said, smiling. “It’s a shame, but Lyra isn’t in at the moment; she’s out at her job. And how goes your life outside of the Conservatory?” “Fine.” Octavia tried to keep the scowl off of her face but a slight twitch in her eye betrayed her impatience. “Of course it is,” said the candy maker with a knowing smile. Octavia remained impassive. Why did I agree to come here? “Octavia!” shouted the Doctor from his corner. “Start looking around already! You’re a filly in a candy shop; this should be one of the best days you’ve had! 462 Jelly Babies… 463 Jelly Babies…” The cellist sighed softly. She wandered through the shop, halfheartedly looking through all of the sweets. Nothing appealed to her. I’ve never cared for candy. The occasional stick of sugar-free gum is fine, but there’s really no purpose for anything else. She moved from display to display, watching as the colors shifted from pastel to neon. A particularly bright electric blue caught her eye. It was a hard candy, a perfect sphere with a slightly lighter line of blue swirling around it. Octavia’s snout scrunched up slightly. That stubborn mare. She’s even in the candy. She sighed inwardly. Maybe it’s best if I leave now and simply sleep off my bitterness. I’ll be all better by tomorrow morning. The cellist turned to the corner, fully intending to excuse herself and head home. “Come along, Octavia let’s head back out,” said the Doctor from his position in front of the counter. “I’ve already bought our candy.” He held up a paper bag jam-packed with Jelly Babies and a personal pint of ice cream. “Well, it’s ice cream in your case but it should have the same brightening effect that candy has.” Octavia raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t I supposed to pick out what I wanted?” “You were taking too long,” replied the Doctor. “Unless you don’t like ice cream?” “I don’t mind ice cream, but I was actual—“ “Good, then we’ll be off!” The Doctor placed the sweets into a saddlebag and trotted towards the shop’s entrance. “I’ll see you soon Bonnie, give my regards to Lyra!” Bon Bon waved a hoof as the stallion exited. Octavia followed the Doctor, grumbling as she did so. “Hey, Octavia?” The cellist, frowning slightly, turned towards the candy maker. Bon Bon continued. “The Doctor only comes here with somepony else when that pony’s feeling down in the dumps. He’s trying to help, in his own annoying and completely disarming way. I just thought you should know that.” Octavia nodded hesitantly. Yes, every single crazy pony that I’ve met has a heart of gold, she thought sarcastically. They’re infuriating, but that’s okay because they’re trying to help. The cellist pushed through the sweet shop’s exit and was forced to step aside as the Doctor rushed back into the shop. “Wait out here for a tick, Octavia. I almost forgot something,” he said as he blurred inside. He was back a few seconds later, a small plastic spoon in hoof. “Can’t eat ice cream without a spoon! Well, that’s actually not true, but I doubt that you’d eat ice cream without a spoon. Wouldn’t quite fit your character.” He opened his saddlebag, pulling out his bag of Jelly Babies. “892 I was able to fit in here. I know that I’ll break 900 one day.” He picked out a red candy and threw it into his mouth. “The red ones are the best,” said the Doctor around his sticky candy. The stallion walked off down the street, leaving Octavia to follow him. They didn’t speak, the Doctor perfectly content with his candy and Octavia more than happy to nurse her black mood. If I had been left to my own devices, thought Octavia, I would likely already be back on my hooves and prepared to work again. In fact, Vinyl and I would probably still be working on our performance. Instead, we wasted a perfectly good practice day! Now there’s only four days left. Octavia blanched slightly at the thought. Four days. Four days to figure out exactly what Vinyl thinks my playing is lacking. Or four days to prove Vinyl wrong and convince her that I am playing exactly what she wrote. Not only that, I’m playing it with emotion! What more could she ask? “Ah!” said the Doctor suddenly, “Here we are.” The two had walked to the entrance of a park. The lampposts had just begun to spring to life as they walked along a concrete path. Trees lined the path, leaving about enough room between them for a starry-eyed couple to wander aimlessly from the path. Octavia and the Doctor were neither starry-eyed nor a couple. The stallion looked from side to side as they walked, taking in as much of the admittedly empty scenery as he could. “I quite like parks,” he explained. “It’s a little bit of green amid an otherwise grey landscape.” He gave a sideways glance at Octavia. “Not that there’s anything wrong with grey.” The cellist gave a tight smile. The Doctor continued. “You know, I enjoy hustle and bustle, I’ve never been one for staying still. Canterlot suits me just fine in that respect. But there are times when I want to just stop running around and fixing things, there are times where I want to move to a more relaxed place. Someplace a little more rural, someplace quite a bit smaller than Canterlot. Maybe even smaller than Manehatten. The kind of place where everypony knows each other, the kind that you see in musicals with all of the inhabitants dancing and singing together. Of course, the musical aspect would never happen, but living in a place like that would be rather nice.” Octavia nodded despite herself; that kind of life did sound rather nice. But why bring it up? The pair had walked into the park’s central plaza. The path spread into a perfect circle, a ring surrounding a small green hill. A statue of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna adorned the top of the hill. The Doctor gestured to a nearby bench. They sat. The stallion offered Octavia her pint of ice cream. The cellist stared down at the small cylinder. A candy shop and a park. Why exactly am I here? “You’re supposed to eat that, you know?” The Doctor gave a good-natured grin. Octavia sighed, taking the lid off of her ice cream. A few moments passed in silence. “Well, that was step one,” said the Doctor. “Now you’re supposed to use the spoon and actually, well, eat the ice cream.” Octavia frowned, her eyebrow twitching slightly in agitation. “What do you want Doctor?” “That’s a rather broad question.” The Doctor thoughtfully chewed a Jelly Baby. “I don’t really want anything in particular.” Octavia’s frown deepened. “Then why have you dragged me through Canterlot?” “To cheer you up, of course!” Another smile came from the stallion. “I would have been perfectly fine by tomorrow morning.” This has only made me dwell on the argument, she added mentally. “Yes, but nothing would have changed. You and Vinyl would have been the same as you were today, there would be another careless sentence and I would have to clean whatever remained of you two! Literally! Our custodian is taking the day off tomorrow, so I’ll have to fill in.” “I was willing to let the statement pass. You should be talking to Vinyl Scratch.” The Doctor waved a hoof. “Vinyl would have simply teleported me out of the room. She’s a surprisingly strong unicorn. No, I would do far more good speaking to you than speaking to her.” Octavia gave him a disbelieving look. “And how do you plan on doing that, Doctor?” “With a story!” Octavia was nearly blinded by the Doctor’s grin. “… A story?” “Well, a couple of stories. But first, take a bite of your ice cream. It’s melting.” Octavia reluctantly ate a spoonful, forcing herself to get through it. Her stomach growled. I haven’t eaten all day, have I? “There, that should be a bit better. Hunger only worsens a mood, but ice cream fixes that rather quickly.” The cellist nodded slightly, eating a bit more. A few minutes passes as the Doctor unstuck two Jelly Babies and Octavia enjoyed her ice cream. “Now,” said the Doctor suddenly, “what do you know about Louis Hoofstrong?” “Louis Hoofstrong?” asked Octavia. “Yes, Louis Hoofstrong. You mentioned watching a documentary on him back in SunBucks a few days ago.” “What does Louis Hoofstrong have to do with anything?” “It’s a transition!” said the Doctor indignantly. “I’ll get to the point eventually. Just tell me a story about Louis.” “Right.” Octavia took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Hoofstrong is arguably the most influential jazz player in history. He was born in New Orleans where he learned to play trumpet and cornet.” The Doctor waved his hooves. “No, no, no. That’s a history lesson, not a story! Stories begin with ‘Once upon a time,’ they describe characters, tell us what makes them tick, make us care for the ponies we’re learning about!” He paused. “What aspect of Louis made him so influential, what made him such a musical force?” Octavia flinched slightly, taken aback by the Doctor’s insistence. “Hoofstrong was… talented.” “Yes, he was talented, but there were hundreds of other musicians at the time that could make the same claim. What made him so impressive was his personality, his story.” The Doctor was smiling lightly. “He epitomized the music of his time. Have you heard of his ‘pound proudly’ remark?” Octavia shook her head. “Once upon a time,” said the Doctor with a slight smirk, “there lived a young boy from New Orleans. He was a musician in every sense of the word; he had taught himself to play the trumpet and taken some basic lessons in the cornet. However, that was the extent of his formal musical training. The boy eventually found his way to a band, and, even though he was undoubtedly talented, he quickly made a fool of himself. Once, during a rehearsal, Louis made a grave mistake, loudly blaring a section of music marked pianissimo. The other, more experienced musicians had seen the pp marking and had appropriately played the section quietly, only to have this upstart play the same section as loudly as he could. Needless to say, the band was confused, a few of them were angry and asked Louis to explain exactly what he was doing. Hadn’t he seen the pp? Louis looked down at the sheet music and back up at his band mates. ‘What, this?’ he asked, pointing at the letters. ‘I thought that this meant Pound Proudly!’” The Doctor ended his story, looking expectantly back at Octavia. The cellist ate another spoon of ice cream. The stallion seemed to deflate slightly. “You didn’t get it, did you?” “… It’s a nice story,” consoled Octavia. “Well, maybe another story will make it easier to understand.” Octavia motioned for the Doctor to continue. Not that she could’ve stopped him in the first place. “Once upon a time,” began the Doctor, “there lived a wonderful Griffon musician by the name of Johann Sebastian Beak. He had attained a level of fame incomparable to most any musician, but his time was coming to an end. As Johann lay on his deathbed, his son, in an attempt to console his Father, sat at the piano and played one of Johann’s pieces. However, the son was interrupted and was forced to leave the piano’s seat. Johann, old, sickly, dying, and decrepit as he was, leapt from his bed and hurried to the piano, picking up where his son left off. He finished the piece and crawled back into bed, finally dying a few weeks later.” The Doctor held Octavia’s gaze. “Is it clearer now?” The cellist considered the stories. “No Doctor, I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to tell me.” The Doctor sighed, putting his hoof to his forehead and mumbling something that sounded like “Musicians.” He popped a few Jelly Babies into his mouth before continuing. “Beak and Hoofstrong. These two are world-renowned musicians and easily earn the title of ‘genius.’” He looked at Octavia for confirmation. The cellist nodded. “However,” continued the Doctor, “there are significant differences in their thought processes. Johann, as many rules as he broke in his music, could not stand the thought of an unfinished piece. Everything he wrote was meant to have a form; he wrote music exactly as he wanted it played. Having somepony ‘Pound Proudly’ instead of play pianissimo would have been unthinkable. Fast forward a few centuries to Louis. He ultimately attained the same amount of fame as Johann without a hundredth of Johann’s formal training. And that’s due to the fact that formality doesn’t matter within genres like jazz and blues. What matters is the emotion.” Understanding dawned on Octavia. “I played with emotion!” she protested. “I always play with emotion.” The Doctor held up a hoof. “You play beautifully, emotionally. But you still have the perfectionist mentality befitting somepony with your musical background. You’re afraid of missing a note, of going outside of the notes and into the music itself. You’re afraid of ‘Pounding Proudly.’ And it shows in your music.” Octavia stared down at the ground. She slowly rolled her cylinder of ice cream from hoof to hoof, softly chewing on the plastic spoon. “Is… Is that what Vinyl believed?” she asked hesitantly. The Doctor nodded. “I believe so. If I could hear it, then Vinyl probably felt it.” The cellist looked up at the stallion. “Then why didn’t she just say it?” “Vinyl… isn’t very good with words. She says and does exactly what she wants. An expansive vocabulary would be completely useless to her.” “That shouldn’t have stopped her,” Octavia huffed stubbornly. The Doctor ate a few more of his candies. “Octavia, how much do you know about Vinyl Scratch?” “She’s insane.” The stallion chuckled. “Yes, that’s a very good way to describe her. Then again, it’s still lacking.” He tapped a hoof to his chin. “Why don’t we try telling a story about Vinyl? That’s a great idea! You start.” Octavia shook her head. “I don’t have any stories regarding Vinyl. I’ve only known her for about four days.” “Really?” questioned the Doctor. “You’ve known that unicorn for 96 hours and you don’t have a single story to tell? I knew Vinyl for exactly five minutes before I had a story to tell!” Octavia searched her thoughts, absent-mindedly eating her ice cream. If I’m not careful, snacking will become a habit. The cellist searched through the last four days. “When…” she began hesitantly, “When I first met Vinyl, she dove headlong across a table.” The Doctor nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me.” But Octavia hadn’t finished. “She manifested next to me and tried to start a conversation. I was nearly dead of nervousness by the time we had finished speaking.” The stallion held up a hoof. “Good, you have an outline for your story. Now, repeat after me,” he said with a grin. “’Once upon a time.’” The cellist raised an eyebrow. The Doctor spun his hoof in a circle. “I’m waiting.” Octavia sighed. “Once upon a time, I met a DJ. She was loud and energetic, capable of drinking Discordian amounts of caffeine in a single gulp. I prophesized that she would drive me insane. A few hours after meeting, she teleported me across Canterlot, nearly running herself ragged in the process. And then I found out she would be my boss.” Octavia paused slightly. “She wanted to be my friend. ‘Besties,’ I think she said. We drank, and woke up the next day. And then we had an argument over a careless remark. But…” “But?” asked the Doctor. “But she was right.” I was simply being stubborn. I still don’t think an apology was necessary, but maybe accepting it would have been the better option. She had hurt my pride and I refused to let her apologize. The cellist rubbed her eyes with a hoof. “I’m an idiot. Vinyl’s an idiot. We’re all idiots.” The Doctor nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “That’s something we have to learn time and time again. Don’t worry though, it gets better from here on out.” He got to his hooves. “I should get going; Derpy hates it when I’m late. But I should have enough time to see you safely home.” Octavia looked up. The sun had set fully. How long have we been here? She shivered slightly from the cold. “Thank you Doctor, I would appreciate it.” The two trotted off, neither of them really talking on the relatively short trip to Octavia’s home. As promised, the Doctor saw her to her doorstep. “One last thing,” said the stallion, opening his saddlebag. He pulled out a small paper bag. “Say that you don’t have a sweet tooth all you want, everypony enjoys candy.” He grinned and began walking off. “Good night, Octavia. Try not to fall back into a dark mood!” “Wait, Doctor!” The Doctor turned, tilting his head slightly. “You never told me your story about Vinyl.” The stallion shook his head lightly. “It’s a rather short one; you’d have to ask Vinyl for more information.” He took a breath. “Once upon a time, a certain unicorn who had lost nearly everything told me to find her if I ever needed help. Simple as that.” “That’s it?” asked Octavia. “If I added anymore, it wouldn’t be my story. It would be Vinyl’s and I wouldn’t have any right to tell it.” The Doctor nodded resolutely. “Good night, Octavia. Octavia waved, slightly disappointed. “Goodbye Doctor. Thank you again.” The Doctor simply raised his hoof, not looking back. The cellist walked into her home, locking the door behind her. Everything was in its usual pristine condition. Octavia walked into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water for herself before going into her bedroom, pausing before her bookcase. I think that a bit of late-night­ reading is in order, she thought to herself, pulling out a piece of romantic dribble that she would never publicly admit to reading. She flopped into bed, opening the novel’s well-worn pages. Octavia reached into the paper bag the Doctor had given her. Hard candy. The cellist pulled out a perfect sphere of electric blue with a slightly lighter shade of blue swirling around it. Octavia grinned. At this rate, I’ll develop quite the sweet tooth. She popped the candy into her mouth, grimacing slightly at the overly sweet taste, and began re-reading her story. She was asleep within the hour.