“Cool story, Octy.”
“‘Octy’?” Octavia looked at her roommate bewildered. They were a few weeks into their studies at the Manehattan School of Music, and in that time the bond between the two fillies only grew. Even so, some of the things that came out of Vinyl’s mouth still confused the grey filly. “What is ‘Octy’?”
“You are! You’re Octy!” When Octavia's puzzled expression remained unchanged, Vinyl continued. “Guh, it’s a nickname!” she said. “Like, it’s your name, but shorter.”
“Oh… Why can’t you just call me ‘Octavia’ like everypony else?”
“Because that’s not how nicknames work!” Vinyl laughed. Octavia giggled alongside her friend, but she was still pretty confused.
“So, yeah, that’s how I got my cutie mark,” Octavia finished. “How did you get yours?”
Vinyl’s eyes widened. “I’ll show you! Come on!”
“Wait, Vinyl—!” Octavia called out fruitlessly. Her roommate already left their shared bedroom, leaving Octavia with no choice but to follow. She ran after a bouncing blue mane down the main corridor until they reached a larger room with some small chairs and couches for the fillies who lived there. Against one wall rested a large cabinet, its insides lined with a plethora of aged records. Vinyl slowed to a trot as she approached it, opened the cupboard, selected one of the records, pushed a chair up to the cabinet, and placed the disc onto the record table that rested on top of the structure.
“Records?” Octavia asked bewildered. “Those things are so old. Don’t you want to listen to my cassettes instead?”
“Shush. Check this out:” Vinyl placed the player’s needle on the edge of the record and turned a knob on the side until the classic rock music locked in its grooves filled the mostly empty room.
“I’ve seen how records work, Vinyl, but cassettes—”
“Shush! Listen…” Vinyl hovered over the spinning record for a number of seconds, and in an instant placed a hoof decidedly on top of it, giving the disc a sharp jab in the opposite direction. An uncomfortable screech replaced Iron Mareden’s riffs, jolting Octavia's eyes open, and flattening her ears against her skull. Octavia thought Vinyl slipped on the old disc by accident, but then she did it again. And again.
“Vinyl!” Octavia hollered, “Stop that! Are you crazy?! You’re breaking it!”
“I am not breaking it! And you’re not listening!” Vinyl continued her antics, and Octavia couldn't shake the horrible thought of an adult coming to yell at them for ruining a record that was meant for everypony. Then, as she listened to the screeching her roommate was creating, she noticed a pattern in it. There was something almost… rhythmic about the way Vinyl ruined the song it was trying to play. Only Vinyl wasn’t ruining it. She was almost adding to it. Making it her own. Playing her favorite parts as much as she wanted, and having fun with the parts she didn’t like as much.
“I didn’t think I was doing anything that would get me a cutie mark at first,” Vinyl said, eyes and hoof still on the record, “I was just having some fun with an old player that somepony donated to the house. I felt bad at first, since we don’t get many toys there, but it was so old that I felt like no pony else wanted to play with it anyway." Vinyl gave the record a few more playful jabs. "But then it kind of started to feel like music, you know? I don’t really know how to explain it. I did this all day even though some of the fillies didn’t like it, but a few others thought what I was doing was fun too. By the time Sister Promise took it away from me, I probably had my cutie mark for hours without me even noticing!”
“Wow, that’s…” Octavia wasn’t sure what words she was looking for. She was happy that her friend found her true calling, but also could tell why somepony would want her to stop doing what she did then (and was doing now). After a little thought, she decided that it must be a good thing, because it brought her new best friend into her life. “That’s really cool!” she finally finished. “It’s weird, but cool.”
“You think I’m weird?” Vinyl stepped off the record and sat in the chair she was using as a stool, sounding hurt.
“But cool,” Octavia reiterated. “And you’re not weird, but what you did to that music kind of was.”
“But it’s my music! It’s my special talent! That means you think I’m weird!” Vinyl’s voice rose, and a few tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
“No! That’s not what I meant at all!” Octavia was shocked at how quickly the mood of her friend shifted; obviously she hit a very hot button for the unicorn filly. Not wanting to hurt Vinyl further, Octavia desperately searched for something that could both explain what she truly meant while also returning a smile to her friend’s face. “Maybe 'weird' isn’t the right word…” she began with hesitation, “It’s just… different, that’s all.” The tears in Vinyl’s eye didn’t dissipate. “But different isn’t a bad thing! I like you because you’re different!”
“So I’m weird and different!” Vinyl’s tears were changing from ones of sadness to anger.
“No! That’s not—” Octavia’s eyes darted back and forth, as though they could find the thoughts and words she needed to salvage the situation. “Look, it’s like this:” She dashed over to a bookshelf lined with age-appropriate stories for any foals who liked their covers. “See all these different books? I haven’t read all of them, but I’ve read some of them. And some of the ones I’ve read I really like! And some… Well, I don’t like them as much, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad… And some ponies like the ones I don’t. Everypony is a little bit different, and likes different things. And some books that I haven’t read yet, I might really like!”
Now it was Vinyl’s turn to look confused. “So… you’re saying that I’m different… and some ponies won’t like my music?”
Octavia sighed. “What I’m saying is that I’ve never heard your kind of music before. It's just really different is all. But just because I maybe didn’t like it at first, doesn’t mean that I won’t ever like it!”
“What makes you say that?" asked Vinyl. She stuck a hoof at the room's bookcase. "Do you like one of those books that you didn’t like before?”
“Okay, maybe the books weren’t the best way to explain things.” Octavia placed a hoof over her eyes for a brief moment before removing it to wildly gesticulate. “The point is, I think I can start to like your music. Because it’s your music. And you’re my best friend, so… yeah,” she finished lamely.
Vinyl looked at Octavia for a few seconds, her face unreadable. After a beat, a large smile replaced every other feature on her face. “Thanks!” she said, a small squeak in her voice. “C’mon, I want to show you something else.”
The grey filly let out a sigh of relief as her white counterpart hopped down from her chair and trotted back to their bedroom. This time Octavia didn’t have to run to keep up. Once there, Vinyl dug a small box out from under her bed.
“After I got my cutie mark, one of the girls who was listening to me gave me this magazine,” she explained, holding up the periodical in question for Octavia to see. “She said I looked just like this mare here:” Vinyl turned to a page inside quickly and easily; the magazine’s binding was used to having this page exposed more than the others.
Octavia looked at the unicorn on the page. She was a bright lime green with a red mane done up in a series of spikes, with one hoof on a record in front of her and the other punching the air. “She dresses kind of funny,” Octavia said. “Do you think her hair just does that when she wakes up, or—”
“She’s called a ‘DJ’!” said Vinyl excitedly, Octavia’s apprehensions lost to her. “That thing I was doing… Other ponies do that all the time! Like, as a job! They go to these club things where lots of ponies listen to them do that thing with records, and—”
“Wait, clubs?” Octavia asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah! At least, that’s what this magazine calls them. I think it’s like a filly scout club, only the room in this picture doesn’t look like—”
“No, that’s not what they are,” Octavia interrupted, her eyes shifting away from the filly in front of her.
“You know what they are?!” Vinyl’s excitement grew.
It took a while for Octavia to rejoin her friend’s eyes with her own. “My mom told me about them,” she began. “She says there’s a bunch here in Manehattan, and that when I get older some ponies will want me to go to one… But she says they’re dangerous. Like, ponies pretend that they’re going to be your friend and have fun, but then they do mean things to you… Or something like that. She didn’t really like talking about it, and just wanted me to promise that I would never, ever go to one.”
Vinyl’s smile faltered. “Aw, how bad could they be?" she asked. "The pony in this picture looks really happy. And look, you can see some other ponies — kind of — who also look really happy! If it’s a bad place, how could they be happy?”
Octavia circled the ground with her hoof; she wasn’t sure how best to explain the bad feelings in her stomach to her friend.
“Octavia…” The filly addressed looked up. The magenta eyes across from her looked pleading. Vinyl put a hoof on Octavia's shoulder and said, “This is where ponies with the same special talent as me go. This is where I’m supposed to go.”
“You don’t know that!” Octavia cried, causing Vinyl to retreat a few steps. “Sorry, I just… You don’t have to go there. You don’t have to go some place dangerous to use your special talent. With this school, you could go anywhere! Even Canterlot! And you can play for nice ponies, instead of ones who only pretend to be nice!”
It was Vinyl’s turn to break eye contact. “Octy… I don’t know… I—”
“Listen: remember when I said that I was going to share my mom with you?” Vinyl looked up confused, and when she saw a pair of somber violet eyes she nodded. “Well, that makes her your mom too. And if she says I’m not supposed to go to a club, then you shouldn’t either.” When Vinyl looked ready to give an angry retort, Octavia put a hoof to her muzzle. “It’s only because she loves us,” she finished.
Octavia could only see Vinyl’s eyes over her hoof, and noticed that they started watering yet again. She removed her hoof to see a smile instead of the frown that earlier accompanied the sight.
“Okay, I promise I won’t go to clubs. Thanks for keeping me safe, Octy.”
- * - * - * -
The clubbing district in Manehattan wasn’t hard to find if a pony knew where to look. Even if one didn’t know where to look they could easily find it by following the city’s most obnoxious sounds and trails of ponies looking completely sleep deprived. Octavia wandered the streets with an air of purpose, but her hooves still took hesitant steps out of both fear and a lack of certainty as to where the building she was looking for was located. It didn’t help that the hour was very advanced, and as such spotting anything of help was that much more difficult; turned out the train to Manehattan didn’t leave very early anymore. Octavia wore a black cape and hood to cover her features, fearing that if any of the area’s resident ruffians spotted her fine coat and well-groomed mane they would bother her for bits. Or worse.
Octavia glanced over the front of several structures, each sporting absurd names for both the building and its entertainment. One even had the names of two different musicians, with the phrase ‘Head-to-Head’ tacked on underneath; the idea of two performers playing at the same time in competition rather than as a duet confused the cellist. A sigh of relief was replaced by one of apprehension as she spotted a neon sign over one of the larger clubs that read, “DJ-PON3: ONE NIGHT ONLY”. She cautiously approached the building, noting two rather large diamond dogs at the door with a line of late-nighters leading up to them. As she approached, she saw one cock his head towards the door, and the pony speaking to him ran inside at the signal.
“Excuse me,” Octavia began to the nearer of the dogs, “but—”
“Back of the line.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Back. Of. The line.” The diamond dog turned to stare at her, or at least she assumed he was staring through the reflective sunglasses he and his partner were both wearing.
“I don’t understand. I’m here to see Vinyl Scratch. I think she’s—”
“Oh, you know her real name, good for you.” The dog scowled at her. He lowered his sunglasses. “Listen, you’re not the first pony to pretend that means you personally know her, nor will you be the last. Now if you don’t—” The bouncer cut himself off, his now visible eyes glancing up and down Octavia’s figure. He replaced his eyewear, turned to his counterpart, and whispered something in his ear. The second dog turned to also gaze at Octavia before smiling and giving a small nod back to the first.
“Alright, yeah, go ahead.”
“W-what? Really?”
“Yeah. That door right there, gorgeous.”
Octavia didn’t much like being called pet names by someone who wasn’t even a pony, but was too grateful avoiding a hurdle that she didn’t understand to give it much thought. As the dog moved a rope in front of her, the line to her left gave a collective groan. She turned to look and noticed that it was almost entirely stallions. One mare towards the back screamed, “Aw, come on! I’m twice the piece of hot flank she is, and I’m not even covering any of it in some dumb cape!” Octavia wasn’t sure she understood or wanted to understand the mare’s frustrations.
Once inside, the pulsing music that she could hear three blocks away beat against her skull as though it was trying to find its way in any way possible. And succeeded. She struggled to keep her eyes open before realizing that squinting them shut wasn’t going to keep the noise out. Ponies of all sorts bumped into her intermittently, and although she fully intended to demand that each one apologize, the room was so full of clubbing ponies that moving was nearly impossible, and no pony would have been able to hear what she had to say anyway.
To her confusion, Octavia noticed that most of the patrons there were actually dancing. However, how they were able to call several of their movements ‘dancing’ would be forever lost to her. The floor was a series of colored tiles lighting up at random, sometimes in a strobe-like pattern, and other times as a simple beam of light before drifting back off again. The walls were high with tall speakers spaced evenly across them, and the ceiling was not visible due to the building’s improper lighting. If the pegasi flying above the crowd doing their own acrobatic style of dancing were any indication, the roof was at least two stories up. Directly across from her and only a few yards away (though the mass of ‘dancing’ ponies in front of it made it seem like miles) stood a stage a meter or two off the ground with a large sound deck at the center of it, dwarfed by two more impossibly huge speakers on either side. And there, standing behind the deck with one hoof on a record and the other repeatedly punching the air, was…
“Vinyl.”
Octavia couldn’t hear herself say her old friend’s name, but that hardly mattered. Bracing herself, she started making her way towards the thickest part of the mob of ponies. As she did so, stomping hooves tore her cloak, the unwelcome bumps from strangers grew in intensity, and at some point Octavia couldn’t help but wonder if they were accidental at all. Then a random hoof found itself on a part of her that she didn’t particularly like being touched. She gave a quick, solid buck in the direction of said hoof, and then looked over her shoulder to see a hoofful of ponies falling backwards into others caught between trying to catch them and falling over themselves. The way this crowd was, any one of them could have been on the receiving end of Octavia’s hind legs, and she found herself not caring who among them now needed a new jaw; the kick itself had been a major release. The ponies around her gawked at the scene. Octavia expected them to either yell at her for kicking an innocent pony, or attack the goon who laid hoof on her knowing full well that he wasn’t, in fact, an innocent pony. Instead, they all cheered and danced even harder. Octavia didn’t think she would ever understand what drove so many ponies to places like this.
The grey mare eventually made her way to the stage itself, now realizing just how high it was compared to the dance floor. She craned her neck to get a better look at the DJ, but from her current angle it proved impossible. In Vinyl's defense, Octavia would want to be as far separated from the crowd as conceivable as well. As if to confirm her thoughts, she spotted one unicorn trying to lift his earth pony friend onto the stage using a combination of magic and allowing said friend to stand on his shoulders. At that moment, something shot from the ceiling just above the stage and pulled the earth pony skyward. Octavia looked up to see a griffon holding the stallion and speeding him towards the exit. She could see the unicorn yelling after them, both in annoyance that their plan had so easily been thwarted and in fear that the bouncer may actually hurt his friend. Octavia spotted two more griffons hovering over the stage, their steely eyes fixated on the pegasi bumbling around in the space above the rest of the crowd; clearly Octavia was not the first to realize how unsafe somepony could be in all that mess.
Without warning, the music’s volume dialed back and was replaced by a familiar voice. “ALRIGHT MANEHATTAAAAAAN!” The crowd cheered at the name of their hometown. “YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN AWESOME TONIGHT! I LOVE DOING THIS, AND I LOVE SEEING YOU GUYS EVERY. SINGLE. DAY!” The crowd continued to whoop and holler. “I’M TOLD THOUGH THAT DESPITE THIS, WE STILL GOTTA WRAP THINGS UP.” This time the crowd gave an audible moan. The DJ didn’t find herself needing to yell quite as loud anymore. “I know, I know, huge bummer, but them’s the rules. So this is your official notification of last call. But don’t worry! I’ve still got a track or two to LEAVE YOU WITH!” she yelled, the crowd coming back to its previous roar. Vinyl didn’t appear bothered by having the crowd almost drown her out; in fact, if Octavia didn’t know any better, she’d say she relished it.
The music resumed, and Octavia continued to gaze up at the stage where she knew her old friend was just out of sight. She started to panic; how was she supposed to get Vinyl to notice her? A tap on Octavia's shoulder interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see a green-ish blue unicorn with a brown, scraggly mane, eyes half closed and small smirk on his face, offering a glass with a strange colored liquid inside of it.
“Um, no, thank you, I don’t—” But each word Octavia said got lost in the noisy atmosphere. The stallion apparently heard nothing; he pushed the drink closer and gave it a little twirl. Realizing words weren’t going to get her anywhere, she placed one hoof on the glass and pushed it back towards the pony who purchased it. He looked a little indignant, but ultimately shrugged and turned towards a grounded yellow-green pegasus with orange braids who was having trouble standing. After turning to see who tapped her shoulder, the pegasus excitedly grabbed the drink from the stallion’s outstretched hoof. Two seconds later the mare completely lost balance, eyes closing shut before she even hit the floor. The stallion picked her up in a light blue aura and draped her over his back. A few concerned members of the crowd came over at the sight, but after a few waves and some animated miming from the unicorn they started moving elsewhere, though still giving him uneasy eyes. He made his way towards the exit, unconscious pegasus in tow.
No, Octavia did not like clubs at all.