• Published 7th Oct 2017
  • 785 Views, 7 Comments

Change in Three Movements - All Art Is Quite Useless



After years of putting aside her strongest aspirations in favour of doing what she knows, Spitfire's dreams of being a musician resurface. Will she risk her career in favour of her desires?

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Decks, Overdue Bills, and Old Friends

Vinyl Scratch squinted, taking in every inch of the apparatus before her with a fastidious concentration. She leaned her head to the side, inching it closer to individual segments before backing up again, inspecting each and every facet of her decks with meticulous proficiency.

Before her, an old school hardcore beat of her own concoction blasted; she had been trying to revive the genre for months, and was beginning to meet success. Still, she barely even acknowledged the tune blasting out at quarter volume – which on her speakers was still intensely loud – not even with an appreciative bop of the head. She was completely still from muzzle to hoof, save the swivelling of her hidden eyes.

Blinking, she used her magic to isolate a segment of the track by continually looping it. A fiddly and complex spell that would require a lot of concentration if she hadn’t cast it thousands of times already. Eliminating the vocal sample in the track from her mind – which at this point was stuck on a repeating ‘ah’ sound – she narrowed her eyes, picking up on each of the individual sounds.

After at least thirty seconds of appreciating the kicks, hi hats and synths that contributed to the main body of the track, Vinyl identified the issue. A second spell began to seep out of her horn, completely removed from the first. She moved one of the many sliders on her decks a few millimetres to the right, reducing the gain by 0.4 decibels on the kick drum only, before adding a touch more bass, reducing the treble and increasing the pitch on the hi hats.

Next, she expanded the loop to eight bars, listened for roughly four repetitions – the repeating vocal assuring her that it ‘knows what she wants, knows what she needs’ – before moving the pan twenty-five percent to the left for the vocals and the opposite for the instrumental. After a moment’s hesitation she tested twenty on each side, then shook her head in a stunted movement, returning it twenty-five.

She released her aura’s grip, used her hooves to spin back the record and started to listen through again. The first refining process was always the most trying, but by no means the most difficult. Despite the fact that Vinyl would find many errors upon her second glance at a raw piece of work, they didn’t require such a deft ear to correct as the finishing touches, which would come later.

Around a minute-twenty into the edited beat, she reached out with her magic and pinched down on the dual records once more, concentrating on the segue between the first hook and the breakdown. As she did so, Octavia trotted into the foyer, a bunch of envelopes in her mouth.

“Hello, Vinyl.”

Vinyl acknowledged her in no way, save her horn briefly glowing with a higher intensity. She remained focused on her work, now tapping out a drum beat on a digital keyboard, listening to the original, then her improvised one, then attempting to lace them together, before snarling and wiping the newer beat away.

Octavia walked up a little closer, her eyes scanning the machinery that all but dominated the corner of the room, before settling on the stolid mare that stood before them, all in Vinyl’s peripheral vision.

She set the letters down on a sideboard and smiled warmly. “How is your work coming along?”

Vinyl pressed down on a third section, her eyes not moving away from the controls. “Scalpel,” she murmured.

Octavia chuckled lightly. “Yes, Vinyl, it does appear that way sometimes. I honestly have no clue how you manage to be so proficient with that machine, yet cannot sew to save your life.”

Vinyl released her grasp on the records, having made four alterations to the sound before Octavia had finished talking. “Tsk. Let me know when sewing becomes useful to me, I’ll go to a workshop or something.”

Octavia’s eyebrow slanted. “The only reason it has yet to be of any use to you is that I currently fix all of your rave-tarnished garments. What if I were to stop suddenly?”

Vinyl turned, shrugging nonchalantly. “Then I’d learn to sew.”

Octavia sighed, rolling her eyes. “You are little fun whilst working, are you aware of that?”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“I remember when we first met, you poured not only effort but enjoyment into your work, dangerous amounts at that. I could never have imagined that Vinyl Scratch going through such a stringent editorial process.”

Vinyl sighed, turning away from her decks. She tried not to sound frustrated, but she couldn’t deny the truth to Octavia’s words, despite wanting to. “I know what you’re getting at, Tavi, but it’s not me that’s changed, it’s the music. I’m trying to do something pretty ambitious here, revive an entire subgenre of music that’s barely seen action in the last twenty years single-hoofed. That means I can’t take as many liberties as usual. For this to work, it all has to be right, you know what I mean?”

Octavia furrowed her brow, studying Vinyl. “If that is the case, why do I not see any ambition? All you have done since I came home is frown, and I doubt that things were much different before I got here. Is this not enjoyable for you?”

“No, it is, it’s just—“ Vinyl ran a hoof through her mane, briefly glancing back at the decks. As much as she'd hate to openly admit it, the sight of her favourite machine with the disc still spinning inside almost made her shudder. “I’ve listened to this track at least a hundred times in the last five hours, it’s starting to drive me a little crazy.”

Octavia nodded. “Are you currently finalising it?”

Vinyl laughed airily. “I wish. Redrafting.” Fuck knows when I’ll actually finish it, she almost added, but bit her tongue. Vinyl was sure that Octavia would only criticise her if she realised how much work she was putting into a single piece. It almost felt unhealthy, channeling all of her energy into this new project.

Octavia scoffed. “Redrafting? And there is no absolutely no chance that you are taking this a little too seriously, Vinyl?”

Vinyl chewed her lip as she tried to find the right words, sliding the volume down a tad. She knew that was coming, and only hoped Octavia would be able to understand her point of view. “I don’t know… Maybe? It’s like, I dunno, a lot rides on this—I mean, considering my reputation, whatever I put out will sell, but this isn’t about that. I need this mix to do well enough that other important artists start to emulate the style again, or it’s just a pointless resurgence. I really want this to succeed, Tavi, so I’m putting a lot into it.”

“Oh here you go, off to start another musical revolution.” Octavia chortled, her eyes filled with mirth.

Vinyl’s ears flattened at the mockery, but she felt conviction rising in her chest all the same, in the form of a long festering aggravation. “You know I don’t like how similar music has become to fashion. It’s bullshit, Tavi. Trends are fine, and of course popular stuff is always gonna end up on top, but so many brilliant styles of music are being forgotten, sounds that never got the recognition they deserve are becoming obsolete, and all because music corporations are constantly pedalling formulaic shit that no one likes. The only reason anyone actually thinks they like it is that they’ve been subjected to it so many times.”

Octavia’s eyes widened a tad. Vinyl had made similar comments to her before, but she had never gone into a full tirade about it. “Well that seems like a bit of an unfair assessment, Vinyl. Have you considered that part of the reason such music is so popular is that a fair amount of ponies do in fact like it?”

Vinyl grit her teeth, inhaling rapidly. “Of course I know that some ponies like that stuff, but that doesn’t mean they all wanna! Think of it this way, if all you ever heard all the time was the same styles of music, how would you know any better? It’s like manipulation, Tavi, and it’s making ponies more and more fickle and superficial! It’s time to change that, level the playing field and remind people that it’s okay to like any type of music, to enjoy what they want, create what they wanna, not what some suit-managed magazine tells them to listen to.”

Vinyl took a breath in an effort to calm herself, feeling her lungs contract as she ordered her thoughts. “When I got into my style of music, it was new, fresh, and alternative. I still love electronic music, and I don’t mind that it’s more mainstream now, but what I don’t like is how freakin’ similar most of it is starting to sound. It’s like a bunch of diverse styles were just forgotten about in favour of the new. Honestly, I’m shocked I’ve managed to keep my spot in the music scene considering the divergence in most of my tracks.”

Octavia tapped a hoof to her chin, her eyes turned upwards. “I… Suppose it is not something I have had to consider in the past. In my own genre, I have often found that diversity is celebrated, but then, my genre does span back over centuries rather than decades, there are naturally some changes inherent. What you speak of does sound troubling, but I must wonder if you are taking every angle into account.”

Leveling her gaze, she flashed a caring smile at Vinyl, soothing her. “I cannot say that I have noticed it myself, but it is definitely something you should work to prevent if you feel you are capable of doing so. Change is wonderful and exciting, but if all of that change is centred on an axis designed to make record labels and popular musicians money, with no regard to the discarded innovations of previous artists, then that is terrible and deplorable change. Still, I do believe that you would do well to take other ponies’ tastes into consideration, some of your views are quite radical.”

The hint of a smile crept onto Vinyl’s muzzle, Octavia’s words often had that effect on her, and her perspective could be a real eye opener sometimes. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, Tavi.” Her smile grew: Time to get the upper hoof again. “Like seriously, I couldn’t. Way too elegant for my common vernacular, never been able to get my head around Received Pronunciation.”

Sadly, Octavia brushed her off without effort. “Yes, yes, very funny.” she said, rolling her eyes, “Now, will you be fiddling with that track until you start pulling your mane out in frustration, or would you appreciate a short break and some lunch?”

Vinyl pushed an eyebrow up over the rim of her shades. “Lunch already?”

Octavia slowly nodded. “Yes, Vinyl? I left at half-past seven this morning, it is almost one now.”

Vinyl closed her eyes and lifted her shades, rubbing at them with a hoof before letting her shades fall back into place. Her eyes felt tired, and she was no longer sure whether it was from lack of sleep or staring at a console all day long. “Jeez, I didn’t realise how long I’d been at this. I thought I woke up earlier than that. Yeah, sure, I’m down for some lunch, thanks, Tavi.”

“I assume you would like the usual?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Vinyl yawned, stretching out her limbs as she spoke.

Octavia shot Vinyl a look. “’If it isn’t too much trouble?’” she scoffed, “What exactly do you expect me to find troublesome about making two pieces of plain toast?” a few seconds passed, and Octavia’s eyes hardened.

Vinyl had seen the maternal glare many times before, and instantly averted her eyes, despite their cover. “Look, I know what you’re gonna say—“

Octavia’s tone was chiding, her eyebrows narrowed and her eyes sharp. “You are going to become malnourished and fatigued if you persist with this eating pattern. Honestly, Vinyl, you are up all hours of the day, yet you hardly eat anymore, and when you do, it is never anything with real sustenance. The worst thing is that when it is your turn to cook,” she trotted forwards and pointed a hoof at Vinyl, “you often prepare the most delicious and nutritious meals, yet your portions always go to waste!”

Vinyl withheld a frown, keeping diplomatic. Inside, she was embarrassed, but if she could play it off as nothing then she would. “I’ve not really been holding down my food all too well lately, that’s all. It’s not gonna be a permanent thing or anything, just until I’ve got this work out of the way, then things’ll go back to normal, okay?”

“The only reason you have been struggling to keep your food down,” Octavia asserted, “is that your routine has made you too used to little amounts of food. Tell me, how many times have you been so lost in your work that you unintentionally skipped a meal over the last few weeks?”

Vinyl was sure she could feel perspiration on her coat. She noticed that? I barely noticed that.

If Octavia noticed Vinyl’s discomfort, she didn’t show it, as she continued to berate her unimpeached. “I should not need to tell you how quickly unicorns get tired, especially when they use the amount of magic you do per day. If I were to miss a few meals, it would be of little consequence, but with you it is more serious, you are lucky not to be on the verge of fainting yet.”

Vinyl let loose a small groan, turning away from Octavia to hide her flushed cheeks. Inside, she felt embarrassed, not just for being scolded, but for having to be scolded in the first place. “You make me feel real silly sometimes, you know that?”

Octavia smirked. “If it means I am looking out for you it is a small price to pay. Now, I am going to go and make you something worth eating, and I will not hear a single word in protest.”

“Hold on,” Vinyl cut in, glancing at the sideboard, glad for a potential distraction, “shall we go through the mail first? You know we’ll forget otherwise.”

“Hm, I suppose we could.” Octavia trotted over to the sideboard and began spreading out the small stack of letters with a hoof, looking back, she smiled deviously. “You’re eating straight afterwards.”

Vinyl waved her away with a hoof, forcing a smile. She heard Octavia mumbling over a letter and walked over to hear her better.

“Hmm, we have a first warning from the water company,” Octavia muttered, her expression bitter, “and a third notice from the studio owners,” she added, her face falling further.

Vinyl gave her a friendly nudge. “How many times do I have to tell you, Tavi?” she laughed, “as long as it doesn’t say final notice you can basically ignore it, even when it does you don’t usually have to worry.” Instantly, Vinyl channeled her most conversant and learned voice. “Usually, these companies get sick of you not paying or responding and sell your debt. The debtor picks it up for a percentage of its value, and most often offers you a cheaper price to pay it off. If you can manage to avoid those fuckers for six years, Equestrian law takes care of the rest and the debt gets written off. Best part is, unless your debt is huge, these companies can’t be bothered with the rigmarole of dragging you through a tribunal, usually costs them more than they’re liable to gain.”

Octavia gave Vinyl a shaky nod, apparently still unsure. “Well, it is nice to see that you are so confident about all of this. I, on the other hoof, am not so used to avoiding my bills, and I cannot help but find the prospect a little worrisome...” She quickly put a hoof to her mouth, turning to Vinyl with penitent eyes. “Excuse me, that came out completely wrong. What I meant to say is that—“

“It’s not like it isn’t true,” Vinyl snorted, “I was raised that way after all. Besides,” she grinned, “why pay for something if no one’s forcing you to, huh?”

“Food for thought, even if it is quite morally ambiguous. Still, Vinyl, I would be much happier if we could do something about these bills sooner, rather than when the—” she trembled, eyeing her furniture, as well as the cello case sitting on the opposite side of the room, “debt collectors catch wind of them. I am well aware that you are sitting on a fair few bits right now, would it not be easier to settle these debts now? If anything, the letters are disheartening.”

“Need I remind you that I’m not the one who decided we needed a private manor in Hoofington?” Vinyl began, chest puffed as she began her deconstruction of Octavia’s complaints.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Their entire reservoir comes from a privately owned mountain range, of course the water bill’s gonna be expensive. Forget the fact that we’ve been renting it for nine months now and have yet to actually stay there. Combine that with the Canterlot penthouse, the recording studio you decided we absolutely had to rent, and the Manehatten apartment, and it’s no wonder our bills are running away with us. Personally I thank Celestia that we actually own this place.”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed. “We agreed to rent those properties together in the interest of practicality!”

“No, I conceded to your demands to rent other places because you weren’t comfortable sleeping in hotels. To be honest, it doesn’t make any difference to me, I’ll take a shabby two star motel any day of the week.”

Octavia’s voice began to rise in anger, although it remained terribly eloquent nonetheless. “If you would let me get a word in edgeways, I would happily remind you that whether I pushed the decision or not, you made no objections at the time, because we were both in work and sitting on a pile of bits! You know, it often feels as if you have a very selective memory, Vinyl Scratch.”

Vinyl bowed her head, caught off guard. “Alright, maybe I shouldn’t have put all the blame on you just now, but still! You can’t deny that you’re the one who wanted it most, so surely that makes you liable?”

“Oh, piss off.” Octavia grumbled. “If you felt so strongly, you would have bloody well said something then, so do not give me that nonsense. Besides, the only time I make demands of you is when I am looking after your health.”

Shit, I messed up. Vinyl mustered her most genuine voice, hoping to back out of the hole she had dug herself. “Alright, Tavi, fine. I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, it was a mutual decision.”

Octavia ignored her, going back to the letters. Vinyl barely withheld a growl. The silent treatment really did get to her, and right then she was more determined to get Octavia back on speaking terms with her than trying to one up her.

“Are you really not gonna talk to me?” Vinyl sulked, frowning deeply. “I’ll cover your share of the bills for a while if it cheers you up?” she offered, risking a smile, receiving nothing.

After more than a few seconds of silence, Octavia turned to Vinyl, appearing quite irritated. “Could you open this one please?”

Vinyl grinned, sauntering over and sparking her horn, causing a sudden and precise tear to form across the top of the envelope. If there was a way to Octavia’s heart, she considered, it was through doing menial tasks for her and staying very quiet until she had run out of steam.

Octavia removed the letter, unfolding it and slowly reading its contents. When a minute had passed and she still hadn’t said a word, Vinyl tapped her on the withers, and Octavia faced her with a joyous expression.

“I got the part!” she grinned, her eyes alight with happiness. “I honestly thought there was no chance of me getting it considering the notice, but look!” She all but shoved the paper into Vinyl’s face, to the point that she could barely make out the words. “Look-look-look-look!” she bounced around in place, smushing the letter against Vinyl’s face.

“Mff—Taviiiii! I kinda like breathing you know?!” Vinyl panted, pulling herself away. When she had taken a couple of short breaths she flashed a brilliant smile. “Heheh, this is great! You can pay the water bill!”

Catching the hint of a dirty look from the elated Octavia, Vinyl quickly humbled her expression. “Seriously, though, I’m really proud of you! That’s the Hoofington gig, isn’t it?”

“Who would have guessed that you pay attention?” Octavia winked, a motion that Vinyl found shockingly natural on her, considering how rarely she did it, “Yes, the position is in Hoofington: Three months in the town philharmonic, possibly four. It also means I will be staying in Hoofington two or three nights a week. It looks like that manor house will finally see some use, hmm?”

“Alright, alright, no need to sound so smug about it.” Vinyl’s grin slowly faded, and she made to turn away, but was stopped by Octavia’s outstretched hoof.

Octavia suddenly wore a face of concern. “What is it? Are you not happy about this?”

“Of course I am,” Vinyl weakly defended, “It’s just that—“ she briefly shook her head. “No, I am happy. It’s just gonna be weird being in an empty house again. You’ve not had a gig take you this far away in months, I got pretty used to having you around every day, you know?”

Octavia offered a mollifying smile. “I know, Vinyl, I was quite used to it too, and the change may be a little unpleasant to say the least. However, I will still be here most days of the week, the train ride is only three hours after all. Honestly, I worry that you would carry on neglecting yourself without me around to check up on you.”

“I’m not a child!” Vinyl pouted, her lower lip briefly protruding. Shaking the look off her face, she tried her best to play down how petulant she had just looked. “But still, between me refusing to churn out commercial crap and you renting out half of Equestria, I guess it’s a good thing you’ve found work. You’d better write every day though.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, her mouth agape. “I am only going to be gone for two or three days a week, Vinyl—“

“I don’t care. Just a little letter each day, it’ll make me happy.”

Octavia’s face was bordering on incredulous. “Honestly, Vinyl—“

“Please, Tavi?”

Octavia’s confusion gave way to happiness. “Fine. But if I get so much as one sarcastic reply then you can forget about it.” She briefly regarded Vinyl’s cheeky grin and matched it with one of her own. “Alright, maybe I’ll let you off the first time.”

Vinyl grinned widely, feeling more than a little mollified. “You always do.” She made to flick some switches on her decks but Octavia’s voice made her stop abruptly.

“Vinyl?” Octavia sounded quite confused. “There is a letter here with the Wonderbolt seal on it.”

At this, Vinyl almost leapt, spinning on the spot and bounding towards the table. “Really?!”

Turning to her with a bewildered expression, Octavia nodded.

“That’ll be for me!” Vinyl threw both forehooves onto the table, opening the letter at once and splaying the contents over the table with her magic. Before her were three pieces of paper, one old and tattered, and the other two new and crisp. The one in the middle started with her name, so she read it first.

As her eyes traced the words on the paper, she felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. As much as she loved Octavia, Spitfire was her oldest friend, and scarcely a week went by that she didn’t think of her at least once. Hearing from her now was like a small blessing, and as such Vinyl treated the letter with the reverence it deserved, devoting her full attention to it as her ecstatic grin settled into a satisfied smile.

When she had finished reading, she stood still for a few moments, letting everything she had read sink in fully. As she went to give the letter a second read, she heard Octavia audibly clear her throat.

“Is there something I should be aware of?”

Turning, Vinyl saw the concern on Octavia’s face and had to bite back a laugh, half joy and half amusement. “No, Tavi, this is an old friend! You’ve heard of Spitfire before, right?”

Octavia paled slightly at the name, but she retained her composure. “As in, the Captain of the Wonderbolts Spitfire, Spitfire? Yes, Vinyl, I am quite sure that every pony in a thousand mile radius has ‘heard of Spitfire before’, funnily enough.” A couple of seconds, and her head tilted. “You mean to say that you know her?”

Vinyl chortled heartily, slapping her chest with a hoof. “Know her? I basically grew up with her! Hell, from the ages of seven to twenty me and her were pretty much inseparable. Kinda fell out of contact when she joined the Wonderbolts though…” A moment’s pause, and Vinyl continued. “We still see each other occasionally, but it’s usually when her tours and mine match up, cause we’re both so damn busy these days.”

Vinyl rubbed her chin with a hoof. “Let’s see… Last time I saw her must have been in Manehatten, last year. More than half of the reserves team had shown up to celebrate one of them becoming a full Wonderbolt, Spits was there too. I’d had no sleep the night before so I let another DJ take over my set, thought I’d get a little catnap and go catch up after, but when I got back she was already gone. Apparently, in the space of half an hour a few of the reserves had managed to get in a fight with some locals, Spitfire left to take them back to their hotel and didn’t come back. Sucks really...” Vinyl frowned momentarily, then flashed a mighty grin. “But who cares, I’m seeing her soon!”

Octavia still looked fairly bemused, but she clearly couldn’t help laughing merrily at Vinyl’s excitement. “Well, I never would have assumed you to have such an unlikely friend. You say you grew up together?”

“Yup! Both grew up in the projects in South Detrot, we were only a few doors away. We basically lived together half the time, always in and out of each other’s rooms. Well, mine mainly, ‘cause I had all the music stuff.”

Octavia slowly nodded. “I see… She liked to watch you perform, I presume?”

“Heh, watch me? I had to be careful she wasn’t outdoing me half the time, Tavi. Funny you should mention that, actually, cause that’s basically what this letter’s about. Thinking about it, this isn’t exactly the kinda stuff you wanna go running your mouth about, so keep this between us, but Spits used to be a bit of a rap star back when we were fillies.”

Octavia said nothing, she simply stared in a mix of amazement and disbelief.

Vinyl closed her eyes, thinking back to her and Spitfire’s shared youth. When she spoke, it was with unmasked pride. “We’d go down to the youth centre together, I’d bring the beats and she’d be on the mic killing it every weekend. We’d practise together at mine for hours, then go out to the park and put on a show, all the colts and fillies would turn up and before you know it she’d be battling someone, that didn’t always end too pretty. It’s funny, I remember so many nights where we’d stay up all hours, drinking Dr. Pony, writing and producing tracks nonstop... half the time it’d be a contest to see who could do the most before crashing, we were pretty even.”

When Vinyl opened her eyes, she found Octavia’s muzzle agape. She reached out a hoof to shut it for her, but Octavia flinched away. “You must be joking. If this is meant to be a wind up, tell me now.”

“When do I ever joke with you about things like this?” Octavia raised an eyebrow; Vinyl started to wave a hoof in defense. “Don’t answer that. Point is that I’m being deadly serious. Rapping was Spitfire’s passion when she was younger. She could sing pretty well too, but her lyrical skill was insane. She used to love expressing herself with music, a lot of us did, come to think of it.”

Vinyl’s face grew more serious as she thought back to her childhood. “Thing is, a lot of the ponies in my area didn’t come from much, and most of them didn’t have much waiting for them in life either. Music was a way to express our frustration at the system that put us there, to shout above the rest of the noise and be heard, and to give us something to do that was safe, fun, and legal. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Spitfire’s enthusiasm, I might not have got half the practice I did when I was young, and I probably would never have taken off in the industry. She was a real inspiration to me, and probably a few other ponies too.”

“I honestly find this so difficult to believe, but I have to indulge my curiosity… What happened?”

A small sigh and a bittersweet smile; Vinyl may have come to terms with it, but that didn’t make it easy to talk about. “The Wonderbolts happened. Spitfire had been going to flight school part time for a few years, and soon after her graduation a Wonderbolt headhunter scouted her out of nowhere. Apparently, he said she had ‘amazing flying skills’ and that ‘with some refinement she could be an excellent asset to the team’, or something like that. She decided to go into training and the rest is history, I guess. I was really happy for her then, even when the late night jamming sessions stopped, even when the visits stopped and she moved away. I guess I just assumed that she’d found her real calling in life and that was that.”

Gesturing toward the letter, she continued, eyes focused on the cursive slants rather than Octavia. “I mean, we still wrote to each other, and I’d talk to her about music, and at first she used to go on saying that this was her way to springboard to stardom, but eventually that talk stopped too, and she seemed to just forget about it. It was a real shame to lose such a talented musician, but hey, you can’t force someone to do something they don’t wanna do.”

Suddenly, Vinyl’s smile was huge again, and she once again glanced at the words in front of her. “But this letter… That might all be about to change!”

“Change how, exactly?”

“Spits wants to make music again.” Vinyl didn’t bother hiding the triumph on her face.

Octavia did a double take. “She said that?”

Vinyl held a hoof up, her smile beginning to feel sheepish. “Welllll, ostensibly, at least. Still, this is huge! And look, she sent me one of her old lyrics!” Vinyl’s eyes scanned the tattered sheet, and her shades almost shone from the excitement in them, her horn glowed as she levitated the paper before her, reading the old wingwritten words aloud:

Don’t believe in the fantasies, government controls how you act and speak, every thought you have, every interaction, trust me it’s all molded like plasticine, we’re creating clouds in their factories, then reigned on while they sit under canopies, every time another pony wakes up they’re distracted by another false flag travesty, trust me, it’s a tragedy, they take the piss till their bladder’s weak, and we’ll all be sitting in the same place stagnant wondering why we’re succumbing to atrophy, told the last guy who battled me, open your third eye and you’ll see, the industrial revolution’s coming not long now before we’re all half machine.

Can we come together and conspire please? Come take a page from my diary, write down your name it’ll remind you of your place beyond our perfect society, forget social norms forget piety, forget the word conform forget niceties, political correctness is just a means of stunting your conscious mind’s higher reach, to infect your mind they’ll write your speech, indoctrinated by the lies they teach, then you grow up thinking you’re best off in the system dominated by bureaucrats and high elites, if you believe that then your mind is weak, you’re likely mesmerised by this beat, you might be content as a sheep but believe me the ones who shear you daily don’t blindly lead.

You know what really does bother me? The shit that we blame on poverty, take a few commoners with no real differences and use hate to establish a false dichotomy, raise the rent on their properties, till the populace ain’t eating properly, slap a few marks on the flanks of the citizens give them aspirations tell them what they wanna be, better yet, tell them what they’ve gotta be, take it further, build a worldwide monopoly, and if a few dissidents challenge your authority we’ll label them as what’s wrong with the economy, I spit the truth there’s no stopping me, focused syllables forming controversy, take a step back no alternate facts the earth is flat and that’s ancient cosmology, question everyone there is no honesty, just bankers and aristocracy, listen to me speak I’ll set you free with dirty beats rhythms punchlines and prosody.

“Heh, this brings back memories,” Vinyl stated, having finished the last line. “I’ll tell you what, Tavi, Spits started writing this one—jeez, It must have been eleven years ago? I remember how much time she poured into it, kept rewriting the first couple of verses, but it never got finished.” Vinyl cracked a smile, reading the third verse –a new addition to the old page– once more. “Her thoughts clearly haven’t changed much since she was seventeen, huh?”

“Buh?” Octavia flinched, shaking her head. “Excuse me, I was lost in thought. It is all a lot to take in, after all. I never would have imagined that the Wonderbolts Captain harboured such, erm, outlandish views…” Octavia tilted her head, a glint in her eye. “Was she always like this?”

“She affectionately referred to herself as ‘disillusioned’ a lot of the time.” Vinyl mused, the ghost of a laugh still finding its way between her words. “But yeah, a lot of us were ‘like this’, to varying degrees, at least. The general disdain for wealthy ponies and those in positions of power was basically unanimous, but not everyone went in for all of this existential, conspiratorial stuff.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the edge of her muzzle. “Did you?”

“Asking that implies that I ever stopped thinking that way.” Stealing a glance over her shoulder, Vinyl quickly lowered her tone. “I just don’t talk about it where other ponies might hear me.” Relaxing her body, she continued. “Me and Spits were pretty similar in a lot of ways, Tavi, almost like sisters really.” Vinyl’s expression became wistful. “At least, we were all that time ago…” A moment, and Vinyl jumped up with a smile. “Still! If she was able to finish that song, she can’t have changed that much, right?”

Octavia’s smile became bittersweet. “I would hope not, Vinyl, but from what you have told me it sounds as if you have not had a proper conversation in a long while. I do not mean to put a damper on your mood, but perhaps you would be best to exercise caution when you do see her? The last thing you wish to do is walk into this meeting with false expec—Vinyl, why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”

Vinyl was currently staring off into space, her thoughts running away with her. Hearing Octavia’s voice, she gave an empty nod. “Yeah… Yeah, Tavi, I hear ya…”

“What has your attention all of a sudden?” Octavia trotted closer to Vinyl, standing in her line of vision. “An imbecile would be able to recognise that you stopped paying attention to me before I even began speaking.”

“Well, it’s just…” Vinyl smirked harder. She was sure that this had to be it. “Listen, Tavi. You know how I was saying how Spits wants to make music again?”

“Yes, Vinyl, I do recall that.” Octavia responded, a little irritably.

“And how I was also saying that all of the popular music these days is turning into commercial crap, and that something needs to change that pronto?”

Octavia’s brow furrowed. “Honestly, Vinyl, do you believe me to be a goldfish? Yes, I remember.”

Vinyl started bouncing in place, her tail flouncing around in excitement. “Then make the connection, Tavi! Use that prestigious education your parents paid out the wazoo for!”

“Hmm…” Octavia rubbed her chin with a hoof. “So, Spitfire wishes to make music, but presumably would have an issue with doing so publicly. You wish to shake things up in the industry…”

“Come on Tavi, come on Tavi, come on Tavi, come on Taviiii…”

“I know that you wish to make music with her—”

“Yes! Ten points!” Vinyl exploded, jumping towards the ceiling in joy.

Octavia frowned, watching the display. “But I am unsure how you plan to convince her to do so. Is it even a good idea?”

Vinyl returned to earth, as did her expectations. “Shit, good point. I don’t wanna push her into anything, she’s my friend.”

“You said yourself that she at least expressed an interest in pursuing a musical venture, but that does not mean that you should convince her to proceed unless you believe that it is in her best interests. Do not use Spitfire as a tool to strike back against musical culture if it will potentially have negative repercussions for her, no matter how much you may want to. In other words,” Octavia looked at Vinyl sternly, “If she says no, listen to her. No cajoling your friend, am I clear?”

Vinyl gave her best attempt at puppy dog eyes; nothing happened. Fucking shades. Meanwhile, Octavia stood expectantly. “...Yes, Octavia,” she querulously whined.

Octavia let loose a chuckle. “It astounds me that you still think using my full name will make up for your clear lack of sincerity.”

Vinyl smiled cheekily. “It astounds me that it still works.”

“Oh, shush!” Octavia laughed. “You are lucky that I find your behaviour charming in the slightest, or I would have told you where to go by now! Anyways, you really should write back to her… Maybe you could arrange for her to visit while I’m in Hoofington? As much as I would like to meet Spitfire, and as interesting as the prospect of seeing you both work together might be…” Octavia shook her head, “I am sure you would rather catch up with your friend without my interference.”

“I’m gonna get to it now! You’re sure you wouldn’t mind her coming here?”

“Well, she is still a reputable pony, even if she is akin to your ilk.” Octavia teased. “Of course I would not mind. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

“I dunno about reputable, we used to roll with a gang.” Vinyl admitted.

“Are you trying to make me reconsider? Yes, Vinyl, it is fine, and I would like to meet her in future also. Just do me a favour, and refrain from speaking about gang activity in my presence. It is not something I wish to dwell on, and I would rather keep your activities to my imagination.”

“Hey, Spits and I never did anything that bad! I mean, there might have been some small quantities of illegal substances passing around in our area, maybe a little contraband, but we never handled any of it! Hell, the worst we ever did was help to sell stolen—”

“Keep talking, and I am going to start covering my ears. I do not wish to be an accessory to your past crimes.”

“Here I am talking about the good old times, and you don’t have the common decency to listen!” Vinyl huffed, loud and exaggerated. “You’re such a square sometimes.”

“And you are a bloody degenerate, but I like you that way.” Octavia winked. “Now, are you going to write your letter?” Octavia asked, head turned as she walked away.

“Yes, mother, I am. And hey! If you’re going to the kitchen, can you make me a big assed lunch? I’ve suddenly found an appetite.”

Octavia seemed to withhold a spark of happiness, but quickly failed. “Now, that, I can certainly do! One hearty meal coming right up!”

“Thanks, Tavi!” Vinyl smiled, sparking her horn, using it to levitate over a fresh piece of paper and a pen, softly muttering to herself. “Now… Let’s see about making you a star, Spits.”