//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Dubstep Dishwasher // Story: Between Bassdrops and Bowstrings // by Quillian Inkheart //------------------------------// Chapter 8: Dub-step Dishwasher [v] The first night back home had been relaxing for Octavia. She had returned to Ponyville after midday, her traveling companions going off to their respective homes. She'd personally walked Fiddlesticks back home, sharing the happiness of the reunion with her parents and her sister. She stayed an hour or so in their company, before telling them she had a lot to do. She informed them that she was moving in with Vinyl, despite the offer from her mother to move back into her old room. Her family lavished her with praises for her musical career, but told her more seriously that they were happy to have her back. As she left, Octavia felt a pang of guilt. During her time in Canterlot, she had rarely wondered how her parents had really taken her sudden departure. Despite her mother’s acceptance when she left, she could see the relief and joy her return had brought her mother. The selfishness of her decision only then truly became evident. Eager for a good night’s rest, Octavia returned to Vinyl’s home. The building was just as she remembered it. This was the place where it all began. She reached out her hoof to knock, but paused, then opened the door quietly; a resident, not a guest. Inside, the house was vastly different and some of the changes appeared to be very recent. Machines rested here and there, things that hadn’t been there when Octavia had left. She saw very little of Echo Scratch’s handiwork in these creations and found herself sleepily wondering if Vinyl had taken up inventing. Not bothering to dwell on it, she walked up the steps. Passing by Vinyl’s room, she walked to her own, a guest room that Vinyl had happily offered as Octavia’s new living quarters. Her saddlebags and cello had been brought up at some point, waiting to be unpacked. Octavia was enthused to be out of the apartment she had called home for over a year. While that place held some fond memories, it had felt like a chain – something she found herself unable to move on from, for fear of abandoning some unnamed important thing. She had trouble understanding it, let alone explaining it, but she had always been worried about leaving that apartment. With this move, she felt a new sense of freedom. Trotting to the corner, she ran a hoof over her cello, sighing contentedly. She was home, after all this time. Moving to the bed and climbing up the sheets, she let her head hit the pillow and yawned, letting weariness finally flow over her. She was at the whim of her tired eyes in seconds, falling into a deep slumber. She dreamed of what was to come, the happy days with Vinyl and the goodness that their revived companionship would produce. Morning hit Octavia like a club. It had been several days since she’d moved in, but never before had she had a morning like this. It wasn’t so much the time she woke up, but the manner. She didn’t wake up confused, tired, or nervous; she was far too busy holding her ears closed for that. The music that woke her was loud enough to shake her bed, shuffling her covers around her. The clock next to her bed toppled off its stand, clattering to the floor. Simple words couldn’t begin to describe Octavia’s mood right then. The sudden wake-up had left Octavia dazed, making the staircase an adventure she would’ve rather lived without. She felt like the steps were shaking under her which – with the music still blaring – was a distinct possibility. Following the ever-increasing volume of the music, Octavia found her way to the kitchen. Vinyl was there, bobbing her head to the pounding bass, cooking breakfast over the stove. The machine that had ruined Octavia’s peaceful sleep rested level with the counter, looking vaguely like a sub-woofer. Upon closer inspection, various things proved different; knobs, a handle and a few lights. It dawned on Octavia that this had to be another one of Vinyl’s hare-brained inventions. Ever since their return from Canterlot, Vinyl had spent several hours a day in her study, tinkering with this or that. Explosions and shouts punctuated those times, making a task even as simple as reading into a chore. Fighting against the ridiculous force the machine gave off, Octavia eventually managed to reach it, but most importantly, she managed reach the off button. With a click, silence fell on the house and Octavia finally felt like her ears weren’t exploding. “Wha-hey!” Vinyl peered over her shoulder at Octavia. “Awww; Tavi, you killed the wubs.” Vinyl sounded mockingly upset, but grinned. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.” For a moment, Octavia was speechless. She had no idea just how to respond. She looked between her friend and her contraption and decided on keeping things simple. “Is that a… dishwasher?” “Yup!” Vinyl proudly announced, turning more properly from the stove. “When you crank the bass up to eleven, it washes the dishes on a sub-atomic level.” And now Octavia was even more speechless, if that was at all possible. She just stared at Vinyl, trying to muster the words she knew she wanted to say. “Why not… just wash them less… loudly?” “Well, isn’t it obvious? If I turned it down, the dishes wouldn’t get cleaned, now would they?” Vinyl responded with a laugh, then raised an eyebrow. "Yo Tavi, did you look in a mirror before you came down here? Your mane’s a mess! You look seriously crazy.” Vinyl chuckled as she returned to her food. “Go on, get cleaned up. Breakfast will be ready by the time you’re done.” Thankful for the distraction, Octavia turned to leave, planning on using this time to settle her ever-growing uncertainty about Vinyl’s unusual living conditions. The dishwasher started up again. Octavia groaned. Over the past several weeks, Octavia was forced to admit that Vinyl was quite a good chef. Breakfast was both delicious and a welcome calm after the morning’s earlier chaos. Vinyl’s company was much appreciated as the two shared the eggs, toast, and jam. The dishwasher was finally silent – much to Octavia’s satisfaction – and now she felt more inclined to actually talk about it. “So, you invented a dishwasher?” She asked, between bites of toast. “Mmhm, that’s what I’ve been working on since we got back. Before that, I made a few other dub-trot inventions: a lawnmower, a blender, a back-massager, a lighting system, and a record-player that turns any record it plays into dub-trot. Your songs come out rather nicely, you know,” Vinyl said matter-of-factly, giving a little grin. “A lawnmower?” Octavia raised an eyebrow, leaning back from the straw sticking out of her orange juice. “Uh, you were supposed to listen to all the cool things after that one.” “How did you make a dub-trot lawnmower work?” Octavia asked, genuinely curious. “It’s simple, really. It worked by trimming the yard by exploding and setting the grass on fire. That was totally my plan, yeah.” She levitated her glass of milk over to her, laughing. “I never said they were very good inventions. The dishwasher is the only one that didn’t explode, fly apart, give me terrible back cramps, or hurt my ears with terrible distortion. But hey, if dad could invent things, why can’t I?” Octavia held her opinions, but she was pretty certain that wasn’t how inventing worked. “Did you invent any other things?” “Just a few prototypes: the dub-trot toothbrush, mane-trimmer, alarm clock, and one secret project.” Vinyl added that last one so suddenly, Octavia felt herself grow more curious. “May I see it? The secret one, I mean. I’d love to be the first.” Driven by the intense – if morbid – desire to see Vinyl’s creations, this morning’s escapade with the dishwasher had been utterly eradicated from her mind. “Hmmm.” Vinyl forced a plotting look, pretending to think it over, then nodded. “Of course you can. I wouldn’t let anypony else near it.” Levitating her toast into her mouth, she nudged her head off towards the other room. “Comf awn, less guu.” She mumbled around her toast, trotting off. Octavia hurried, but she refused to either leave food on her plate or carry it around like a barbarian. She couldn’t pull that look off as nicely Vinyl could. Finishing her food swiftly, Octavia followed her friend with newfound haste. The pair climbed the stairs, Vinyl munching as she walked, and started down the hall until they reached what was Echo’s old study – now Vinyl’s. Upon opening the door, Octavia was greeted by the sight of Vinyl’s workshop and studio. The place was a littler of strewn papers, papers tacked to the walls, muddled machines, a writing desk, her mixing equipment, and – oddly enough – a ton of candy wrappers. Octavia held one up and raised an eyebrow at Vinyl. “Old habits die hard,” Vinyl said, noticing the look. “I need one every time I write music. I can’t think without sugar.” Laughing to herself, she levitated one of the candies from a nearby bowl, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth. Smiling, she tossed the wrapper aside and rolled the candy around in her mouth, trotting over to a large black box. “This here,” She mumbled around the sweets, “is my big secret.” “It’s a box.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Octavia tilted her head, trying to see some secret in the odd thing. It looked like a speaker, only the front was flat and painted on. The whole contraption was about the size of a pony and was up on wheels. A single button was on the top, near the back, filling Octavia with the strong urge to press it and see what happened. “It’s way more than a box.” Vinyl responded triumphantly, but when she didn’t say anymore, Octavia glimpsed over at her. Only in the rarest occasions did Vinyl reign in her tongue. It was obvious to Octavia that her friend wouldn’t say any more until asked. The victorious grin, the shimmer in her eyes, and the slight bounce to her hooves gave it all away. Octavia found herself strangely comforted by Vinyl’s rowdiness. “All right, I give up,” Octavia conceded, giggling happily. “What is it, Vinyl?” “Oh,” Vinyl started, as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. “It’s nothin’ special. It’s just my bass cannon!” By the end of the sentence, Vinyl voice had risen to a shout. Octavia’s eyebrows went up. “I got the idea a while ago when Pinkie was showing off her Party Cannon. I got this sick idea for a cannon like hers, but for music.” “What does it do? If it just played music, it’d just be a speaker, right?” Octavia asked, already knowing the answer deep in her twitching brain. “It does way more than play music. It launches musical awesomeness in whatever direction it’s facing. I cranked this baby so far into the red in terms of power, that... well...” Vinyl cleared her throat and patted the box. After a long pause she looked over to her creation. “At least, I think that's what it does...” Octavia felt her brain twitch again and it became a struggle to keep the twitch out of her eyes and ears. Her lip however, gave a slight twitch as she spoke. “You aren’t even sure what it does?” “Well,” Vinyl rubbed a hoof over the back of her neck. “After the lawnmower…” Vinyl trailed off, then patted the cannon a few more times, almost sympathetically. “Yeah, I haven’t used it. I was considering takin’ it off into the Everfree one of these days and givin’ it a try, but the time never really seemed right.” Octavia’s nerves settled. Vinyl was, it seemed, more sensible than Octavia had imagined. She silently scolded herself for doubting her friend’s integrity. “Perhaps we could try it out sometime, but Vinyl, something like this could easily be dangerous. Perhaps we should consider that some things are best left unmade.” Octavia had to admit, if only to herself, that this machine bothered her. Could it be used to damage things? To her music was a force of creation, not destruction. “Maybe you’ve got a point there…” Sighing, Vinyl patted the cannon one more time before walking back over to Octavia. “I might just convert it into a new kind of speaker or somethin’.” The two started to leave, but Octavia peered back over her shoulder again at the bass cannon. It truly was astounding, she thought with no irony, what one could accomplish with music. “Vinyl, do we have to?” Yet, even as Octavia asked, she followed Vinyl closely through the hallway. “You need to get out, Tavi. It’s been days since you’ve gone out and I know, for a fact, you’ve only ever gone to see Fiddle and your parents.” The DJ stopped, turning to face her friend. “Ponyville’s changed a lot, you know? Ever since Twi rolled into town, things have been nuckin’ buts.” Octavia gasped internally. She had been a year away from Vinyl and her language. The past few weeks had hardly done anything to get her used to it; she was far too used to the Canterlot lifestyle. “You remember Lyra Heartstrings?” Vinyl’s voice dragged Octavia back to the present. “I believe so, yes. She moved to Ponyville while we were still fillies, correct?” “Mmhm. She’s married now.” “What? Really?” Octavia was genuinely shocked. Lyra had never shown much interest in romance, from what she could remember; and she had no trouble remembering Lyra Heartstrings. She had been Octavia’s second friend, not as close as Vinyl, but still a very important part of her early years in Ponyville. Part of her felt bad, for having missed such a monumental event. “To whom?” “Bon-Bon,” Vinyl said simply, with a small chuckle. “Bon-Bon?” Octavia thought back. “I don’t remember any stallions named…” Slowly, her eyes widened. “Wait – Bon-Bon. As in, the Bon-Bon from our class? That Bon-Bon?” “Yup.” Vinyl levitated her glasses over from the table they were resting on. “Caught everypony by surprise.” Octavia was certainly surprised. “A mare? I never imagined Lyra to be that sort.” “Well, that’s how it is with love, I guess. They make a cute couple, I gotta say.” Canterlot had been a place of silent judgment and intense bigotry. To be different in Canterlot was to be an outcast, tossed aside by everypony. Mares and stallions who found love in the same gender were among those Canterlot’s elite refused to acknowledge. The Princesses didn’t like it, Octavia was sure, but what could they do? Force their subjects to accept those around them? Canterlot ponies were – by their very nature – cruel and judgmental. And Octavia had been one of them, much to her shame. She scolded herself for her knee-jerk reaction to hearing about Lyra’s decision. She was her friend and Octavia would support her, no matter what. But along with this realization came questions – questions Octavia had been trying to avoid – swirling around in her mind. “Tavi?” Vinyl's voice snapped Octavia from her thoughts. She looked up to the DJ, blinking a bit. “You alright?” Octavia shook off her lethargy and nodded. “Sorry, I was just dusting off the last bit of sleepiness is all.” How could Octavia explain what was breezing through her mind? She barely understood it herself. There was another long pause between the two of them, before Vinyl spoke. “Another big change was over at Pitch Perfect, Grandpa Maestro’s shop. He retired and now his grandson, my cousin, runs the place.” “Oh? Is he well?” Octavia tried to hide her worry for the elderly stallion, but she couldn’t forget the kindly pony who had given her that first, precious cello. “The old stallion? He’s fine, don’t worry. He just felt like it was time to pass the store on to the next generation, is all.” Vinyl waved a hoof dismissively. “He really missed you after you left. I bet he’ll be glad to see you back.” Octavia couldn’t hide her smile at that, nor would she have tried. “Fine, you win,” Octavia said with a playful eye roll. "Duh," Vinyl countered. "I always win." For the past several weeks, she had been scared to leave the sanctity of Vinyl’s home. She had been scared of Vinyl’s own words; Ponyville had changed. She feared those changes, feared that in only a little over a year, that her old home would be unrecognizable. Did she still belong here? Feeling a stirring in her gut, Octavia fought the urge to return to her room and practice. Vinyl had her by the tail this time, however – both figuratively and literally. She was at least happy to have her friend there to support her. Resigning herself to her fate, she trotted out with her friend close behind, a soft sigh and a smile on her lips. She would go see Maestro and his grandson first. She wasn’t sure if she could confront Lyra and Bon-Bon just yet.