9: "How Many Crossovers Is He Going to Cram Into This Thing, Anyway?"
But Wait...There’s More!
- 9: “How Many Crossovers Is He Going to Cram Into This Thing, Anyway?” -
Buy it, use it, break it, fix it,
Trash it, change it, mail-upgrade it,
Charge it, pawn it, zoom it, press it,
Snap it, work it, quick-erase it.”
“There, see, the band’s started already,” declared the first of the three newcomers to the cute-ceañera party, an earth colt.
The party was taking place in the immense backyard of Kappa Cider, the immensely-rich unicorn manufacturer of magical storage batteries, and the most-probable model for the character of Fidelia in RIAT. She was also the Lady Neufrichfeld, but that was a side of her she rarely bothered to acknowledge, preferring the company of fellow entrepreneurs to the landed aristocracy.
“We’re not that late, Hoyden,” explained the second newcomer, an earth filly. “Besides, that’s Daft Buck, the warm-up band. Sapphire Shores will be on later.”
“Oh dear, it certainly is loud in here,” noted the third newcomer in a meek voice. “And do they have to have those lights flashing all over the place? Somepony could put their eye out.”
Vinyl Scratch, who was crossing the floor to fetch a few more power cables for her keyboards, had overheard the entire conversation thus far, as well as dozens of others going on at the same time.
It’s not like she could help it. As compensation for her blindness, she had developed the ability to hear and discriminate between different sounds to a nearly super-pony level. This along with a very-well organized memory did much to hide her condition from those who did not suspect otherwise.
So this particular group of three was filed into her memory just in case they proved important: Hoyden, the confident earth pony colt (perhaps too confident for his own good, judging by the sheer bravado in his voice), the as-yet unnamed but cheerful earth pony filly, and the also unnamed shy filly...
That’s funny, Vinyl thought to herself. I can always figure out the pony type from the voice, but this one has a bit of everything. It’s almost as if...naw, it couldn’t be.
Vinyl retrieved her cables and turned to return to the entrance to the offstage area. This just happened to put her behind the three newcomers.
“Come on, you two,” said Hoyden. “If we’re going to get a free concert, we might as well get the best view possible.”
Vinyl stayed in the wake produced by the three ponies, but not too close. She had learned from experience to never ignore the insistent “DANGER! DANGER!” signal that her subconscious was feeding her right now.
Finally they reached the point at which their paths diverged: Vinyl continued straight, while the three ponies turned right.
“Here we go. Sundance, Selene, we should be able to get a good look at the band now,” said Hoyden as they reached the edge of the crowd surrounding the stage. “Those two ponies with the EM bases must be Daft Buck, and the singer on that little pyramid is...Dear Sweet Celestia in the Sky, WHAT IS THAT THING?”
“Why, Hoyden!” exclaimed the cheerful filly with a smirk. “I do believe it’s one of the crash-test dummies that you put out of a job!”
Vinyl barely suppressed a loud laugh as she kept walking. She decided that this filly was Sundance, and the shy one was Selene. “Selene” of course was an extremely-old name for the Moon. This deduction caused a mental klaxon to be added to the “DANGER!” voice in her head.
Meanwhile a stray laser struck some pony in the retina.
“MY EYE!”
“Name it, rate it, tune it, print it,
Scan it, send it, fax-rename it
Touch it, bring it, pay it, watch it,
Turn it, leave it, start-format it.Technologic.
Technologic.
Technologic.
Technologic.”
~ ~ ~
After getting the power arrangements set so she could act as Sapphire Shores’ keyboardist, Vinyl got a progress report from the other performers, then worked her way through a large tent which had been cordoned off into a maze of rooms and hallways, finally arriving at the canvas door to Miss Shore’s room and scratched the rough fabric with her hoof (knocking on such a pliant surface was next to useless at catching the attention of any pony who wasn’t Vinyl Scratch).
“Yes?” answered the voice within after a pause. The singer liked to meditate before performances.
“Everypony is ready, Sapphire,” said Vinyl. “Mic check will be in thirty minutes.”
“Very good, Vinyl,” Sapphire replied, and then stuck her head out of the door. “Oh and Vinyl?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you set up some sort of demonstration of your invention outside the tent so the guests can take it for a spin? You’ve been doing such a good job substituting for Teddy and helping me out in general, I feel it’s only right to help you out as well. You’ll have everypony’s attention during the time between sets.”
“Well, I have to get my keyboards out on the stage...” began Vinyl.
“Nonsense! That’s what the stagehooves are for, and nopony’s better than my stagehooves! Go out there and promote yourself, and with any luck the crowd will demand that you perform after me as an encore!”
“Thank you, Sapphire,” Vinyl said, turning to go. Just so long as they don’t demand that I be lynched instead, she added to herself.
~ ~ ~
The DJ found the box she had set aside with her CD-related equipment and dragged it out of the tent. She then found herself trying to work her way around two ponies who were standing on the path to the spot where she wanted to set up: an area at the far end of the tent where a stand would still be noticeable while not getting in anypony’s way.
“Let me know if you see an architrave somewhere,” said the first pony, a pegasus with a somewhat grand air to him.
“Does he wear a special type of hat?” asked the second pony, a unicorn with a smile in her voice.
“An architrave is not a person, Jo,” the pegasus gently corrected her. “Rather, it’s the beam that rests on the top of two columns. The senator we’re trying to meet is waiting for us under one.”
“Oh,” said Jo. “You know, Doctor, I still don’t feel comfortable about this whole business.”
“You mean the legs?” asked the doctor. “They are a bit of trouble at first...”
“No, not that. What we’re doing here tonight. Back on...back where I came from, this was unethical!”
The doctor shushed her. “Yes, it is a rather unsavory business, I’m afraid. But I assure you that we will be quite upfront with our motives. It is entirely up to the senator what he wishes to do with the information we provide him.”
“But we’re not real geologists!”
“Equestriasts, Jo Grant. The correct term is ‘equestriasts’. And I’ll make clear that we are amateurs in the field.”
Jo sighed. “I just can’t help feeling like we’re on the wrong side in this, Doctor. After all, we’re the ones trying to stir up the underground race this time.”
By this time, the two were out of Vinyl’s range of hearing. She didn’t quite understand what she had heard, but she filed it carefully away in her memory. For some reason, the one referred to as “Doctor” reminded her of a pony she had met at the Equestrian Museum several months ago, despite the voices being nothing alike.
~ ~ ~
As Vinyl Scratch started to set up her booth, she realized that she had not rehearsed any sort of spiel to sell the Trottman, so she desperately tried to remember any sort of sales slogan from the recent past that seemed to be effective to her.
“FIGS! In the name of Celestia, FIGS!!!” her memory helpfully suggested.
No, she told herself firmly. Not that one. Bad, Memory, bad!
At this point she was distracted by the sound of a number of ponies converging on her location. Vinyl lifted her head up uncertainly. Customers?
“Nomde! There you are!” said one of the ponies, a pegasus colt.
...or not, thought Vinyl.
“Hello, you three,” answered a unicorn filly.
Nomde, presumably. Vinyl vaguely remembered hearing about a bookstore in Canterlot owned by a Nomde somepony. Vinyl was an avid second-hand reader, but she rarely ventured into a bookstore. The chances for giving away the fact of her blindness were just too great.
As for the pegasus and the as-yet silent other two members of the group, Vinyl instantly realized that they were members of the Royal Guard, less than a year into their service. She knew this thanks to her heightened sense of smell, but as that particular chemical appeared to be a Royal Guard trade secret, she had never shared this particular insight with anypony else.
“Err...sorry about the mix-up. My bad.” This was a second pegasus colt. Vinyl decided to tag him as the “laid-back one”. She also realized that she was a little too obviously listening in if anypony happened to look her way, and set about arranging the Trottman and CD boxes in a pleasing arrangement on her table.
“That’s OK, Crack Shot,” replied Nomde. She paused for a moment, perhaps to look around. “Wow, I can’t believe we’re at a free Sapphire Shores concert.”
“Indeed!” chimed in the last member of the group, a unicorn colt, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
“Heh, sounds like Check Mate here is a bit of a Sapphire Shores fan himself!”
“Oh, I certainly wouldn’t claim that the label of ‘fan’, which after all is a euphonym of ‘fanatic’, would be at all applicable,” Check Mate backpedaled. “More like somepony with a casual appreciation of some of the more complex rhythmical combinations in the songs she chooses not to advance as singles for her albums. Plus, it is a virtual impossibility to spend any time in Canterlot without becoming acquainted with the existence of the unicorn with the appellation of ‘The Pony of Pop’, so to speak.”
Crack Shot whistled in wonderment. “Dude, it’s like I don’t even have to look at you anymore to see how much you’re blushing—I just need to count the syllables!”
This got a good laugh out of the rest of the group.
“Say Storm Stunner,” asked Nomde, “how did you ever manage to get us invitations to this party, anyway? You didn’t by any chance...”
“...single-hoofedly save Kappa Cider’s life while protecting the Princess?” asked Crack Shot rhetorically. “Yup, he did.”
“She wasn’t ever in any real danger,” answered Storm Stunner. “It was just in the call of duty.”
“I’d give at least part of the credit to Crack Shot here,” added Check Mate. “He talked the grateful industrialist into turning a vague promise of a favor into four invites.”
“Well, I’ll have to thank her in person if we ever meet her tonight,” said Nomde.
A second later the sound of the band’s latest song’s ending was replaced by cheering from the crowd.
“Oh look,” Nomde said, “I can see ponies leaving—that warm-up group must be nearing their last song. I’ll just find us a good place to watch the concert. Storm, could you be a dear and get me something to drink from that cart over there?”
“Sure thing, Nomde,” answered Storm.
“Wait, is that Daft Buck?” asked Check Mate as the unicorn filly walked away. “You never told me that Daft Buck was performing! I have no qualms with calling myself a fan of that group. Indeed, I would have insisted on arriving early enough to catch their entire performance.”
“Oh, I had no idea they were even here, Check Mate,” said Storm. “I’m sorry. Look, they’ll probably set up a booth for autographs or something while Sapphire performs. Let’s say the two of us set out to find it as soon as she starts singing, OK? Now if you’ll hold on a moment, I have to buy that drink for Nomde.”
“That can hold for a moment, Champ,” said Crack Shot, lowering his voice. “Now that the three of us are finally alone, what say you fill us in on what happened at the palace this afternoon?”
“Yes,” chimed in Check Mate. “I heard something extraordinary happened during the Grand Council session, but I haven’t been able to get a believable explanation from anypony!”
“That means they were probably telling you the truth,” Storm said with a sigh. “Look, I’ll tell it like I saw it: I was Number 3 pegasus on the Royal Chariot. At attention, head forward, eyes front—and blinkered. The Princess steps into the chariot, right on time, and tells us to take her to the Chamber of Deputies for the opening of the session. So we take her. She steps out of the chariot, and walks into the building. This is all with my ears, remember, because I’m still at attention.
“And then I start to hear it.” Storm paused for effect. “First one pony, and then a few. Over the sounds of the ponies, I can also hear the Princess’ voice, although it’s too far away to make out any words. She sounds confused at first, then insistent. And then she enters the chamber. Pause a few seconds for the deputies to turn their eyes in her direction, and BAM! A hundred-something ponies, all doing it.”
“Doing what?” asked Check Mate.
Crack Shot meanwhile was unsuccessfully trying to hold in the laughter.
“Singing!” replied Storm. “Every single one of them was singing! The exact same song, a song I’ve never heard before, although I certainly have it memorized now. It seemed like the moment any mortal pony came in contact with Princess Celestia that day, they would instantly start singing. The first few ponies were singing out of time with each other, as they didn’t meet Her Majesty all at the same time. But that chamber got whatever was going around all at once, so they turned themselves into a chorus. Bass, tenor, alto, soprano, the whole works!”
“So...so what did the Princess do?” asked Check Mate in wonderment.
“Well, I think she tried to wait it out,” answered Storm. “She must have thought, ‘This song has to end sometime. And then we can get on with the meeting.’ Well for one thing, there was both a chorus and a verse, although the spell or what-have-you began with the chorus. And there were six verses.”
“That must have been rough,” said Check Mate. “But at least they had a choral arrangement. So what happened after the sixth chorus?”
“Let me guess,” ventured Crack Shot. “Seventh verse: same as the first?”
“Exactly,” answered Storm. “They started repeating the whole thing all over again! Now this was not a trained group of singers...”
“...although you’d expect them to have more than enough hot air between them...” ad-libbed Crack Shot.
“...and you could tell that they were getting quite winded. Now all this time you could hear the Princess trying various things, from pleading to shouting to what I assume must have been spell-casting, but nothing worked. So she dismissed herself and rushed to the chariot. ‘To the Royal Apartment,’ she ordered, ‘and eyes front above all!’”
Storm chuckled a bit remembering the trip back. “I tell you, resisting the temptation to look at her was pretty hard. Now that we knew what to listen for, we could hear that song breaking out here and there around us, once for any time a loyal subject gazed up at their Princess being carried across the sky. But finally we arrived where we started, and the Princess stepped out of the chariot and made a dash for her private quarters. And...I looked.”
“You looked!” Check Mate and Crack Shot exclaimed simultaneously.
“I couldn’t help it! The crisis was past, and I just had to know what it was every other pony was seeing that made them start singing before the Princess fixed it. And I wasn’t the only one—we had ourselves a nice little barbershop quartet before the poor alicorn got out of sight. She was blushing up a storm, too.”
“So...?”
“It was her mane,” Storm explained. “She had it all up in curls. One look at them, and it was like your brain was suddenly rewired. After that, you just had to sing it.”
“Ooooh!” Check Mate exclaimed. “I think I understand.”
“You do?” Storm asked. “Then I wish you’d explain it to me.”
“Well think about it,” said Check Mate. “Princess Celestia’s mane is pretty magical, flowing and shimmering all the time like it does. Now imagine putting that in curls—all of that magic is now twisted around like mad, and the light it gives off now has a completely unpredictable effect!”
“So,” said Crack Shot slyly, “how does that song go? I wonder if we should sing it to her at her next birthday party...”
“Don’t you dare!” exclaimed Check Mate. “Besides, how do we know that the words of the song themselves aren’t magical? Just hearing them might make you sing it non-stop!”
“Well, I stopped,” replied Storm, “and the song didn’t seem magical to me:
“Rule, Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!”
Storm had perhaps sung this a little too loud, as the noise of the crowd around them suddenly died.
“Oops.”
“You know, Storm,” Check Mate said with a smile in his voice, “I imagine that several of those council members are here at this party.”
“What a funny song,” observed Crack Shot. “What’s a ‘britannia’?”
“I don’t know!” exclaimed Storm, as the group walked out of Vinyl’s earshot.
The DJ had herself a good laugh, and added the overheard story to her pitifully-small collection of “Times Celestia Screwed Up and Didn’t Doom Us All to a Horrible Fate.”
~ ~ ~
Vinyl finally finished setting up her stand, just as Daft Buck launched into their finale, “Derezzed,” four minutes and eleven seconds of absolute musical perfection. She didn’t realize that she had been holding her breath until she suddenly let it out.
And just like that, it was time to close the stand back up until after the concert.
“Oh, that’s OK, Vinyl. I’ll take care of things while you’re performing!”
“Pinkie Pie?” Vinyl asked as she turned her head in the direction of the pony who had somehow materialized right beside her. Again. “How did you get an invite?”
“Well, duh! Do you know any major characters from Canterlot who haven’t shown up yet? And if they all get to come, then why can’t I? Besides, I’m scoping out my competition.”
“Wait...what...competition?”
“The Perturb family,” explained Pinkie. “Fire Engine, Eggplant, and their ‘little toady’ Zip.”
Vinyl raised an eyebrow. That sounded mean, and everypony knew that Pinkie Pie didn’t have a mean bone in her body. “‘Little toady’?” she questioned.
“Yeah, he actually likes being called a ‘little toady’ by his brothers. Weird. Anywhoey, those three have got a monopony on all big parties in Canterlot.”
“...so are you jealous?”
“Me, jealous? No, silly! Ponyville’s got all the party potential I could ever need! I’m just wondering if they might be willing to share some of their secrets with me! Like if maybe they’ve discovered the sixty-sixth rule of a good party!”
Vinyl thought back to where this conversation started. “But won’t you have trouble doing that if you’re stuck running this stand for me?”
“Do you have a permit to sell, display, or think about compact disks within thirty pony-lengths of a city-approved party?” Pinkie asked, her voice suddenly that of a Royal Road Patrol officer.
“Um...”
“There, see? That means that the Perturb family will be all over this stand in a matter of minutes! It will be the perfect opportunity for me!”
Vinyl uttered something that started with a sigh and ended with a groan. “In that case, could you please get everything packed up when you’re done?”
“Okie-dokey-Loki! Oops...lokey!”
Vinyl made the same sound for a second time as she walked away.
~ ~ ~
“I want to be rich and I want lots of money.
I don’t care about clever, I don’t care about funny.
I want loads of clothes and want loads of diamonds
I heard ponies die while they are trying to find them.”
Sapphire Shores’ concert began in rather uncharacteristic fashion. Instead of an explosion of pyrotechnics and plenty of dancing to one of her energetic pop singles, she was sitting calmly on a chair in the middle of the stage and singing a fairly quiet song most of the crowd had never heard of, doing a remarkably-good job of maintaining a Hackney accent the entire time. DJ Pon-3 was stationed at one side of the stage, using her keyboards to provide a light etheric atmosphere on top of the guitars and drums.
“I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore.
And I don’t know how I’m meant to feel, anymore.
When do you think it will all become clear?
‘Cause I’m being taken over by the fear...”
~ ~ ~
The crowd didn’t quite know what to make of this song, and so the applause when it finished was a bit scattered. Sapphire didn’t seem to mind.
“That was a song by a friend of mine named Lily Rose,” she explained to them afterwards. “Mrs. Cider asked that I perform it for the benefit of our true guest of honor tonight, Miss Dielectric Cider. Dia, could you please come on stage?”
There was a squeal of excitement from one side of the crowd, and eventually a pony made her way beside the singer.
“Dia, do you forgive me for the lecture on the dangers of materialism in lyrical format?” Sapphire asked factiously.
“...yeah...” the overwhelmed young filly managed to get out.
“Would you like me to sing one of my songs now?”
“...yeah...”
The crowd laughed, Miss Cider was given the place of honor at the foot of the stage, and the long-expected high-energy concert began, complete with atmospheric amounts of smoke. Strike that, more like an incredibly over-the-top amount of smoke.
“MY LUNGS!” cried the poor pony who had just recovered sight in his lasered eye.
~ ~ ~
When the concert concluded, Vinyl got her own and everypony else’s equipment put away as fast as possible. She turned to go and bumped into another pony.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“Think nothing of it, Miss Scratch,” Kappa Cider replied. “I heard you volunteered to help Miss Shores out with her concert, and I wanted to thank you in person. Also, there was a small business matter: my batteries are used in your Trottmans, yes?”
Vinyl Scratch panicked. Her mind quickly brought up Lady Neufrichfeld’s financial statement. “I donated to the Rabbit Preservation Fund last year!” she blurted out.
“...what a coincidence, so did I! I wasn’t aware that someone with such a technologically-oriented focus as your alter ego could find time to devote to the plight of wild animals.”
“Ah, well...it’s sort of an outlet,” said Vinyl. She hoped her own financial records were not as easy to check as the nobility’s.
“I understand perfectly!” Mrs. Cider replied. “Well, you appear to be rather busy, so I’ll get back to you about that little battery situation later!”
“O...OK!” Vinyl said to the retreating form of the industrialist.
She let out a big, nervous sigh...and then remembered about the legal status of her booth.
~ ~ ~
Vinyl made a fast dash straight for her CD stand.
How can I sell the merits of a Trottman if I can’t even display one! she thought to herself. I’ve heard that Prince Steadfast is not very popular in the capital, but I can’t simply rely on any sympathy drummed up by anypony hearing the story of our confrontation and his humiliation at the Equestrian Museum. Although...I wonder if that’s why everypony is making way for me?
And then Vinyl suddenly realized that if that particular story had spread around, then there was no possible way to tell it without the fact of her blindness being included. At this realization, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and swung her head around for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath and continuing on to her stand at a more sedate pace.
How can I talk to anypony now that they know? she asked herself in desperation. This is not how I wanted to win this feud! I swear, the first pony that says ‘You poor dear...’ will be the end of me! I’ll explode in a million pieces, and, if I’m lucky, the shrapnel will take out the speaker... This last thought cheered her up, a little.
She arrived at the stand to find it was still open, mostly because Pinkie had kept Fire Engine and Eggplant Perturb trapped under a constant barrage of words the entire time. It appeared to be mostly praise of their excellent party methods, although there appeared to be a digression that involved a scene from something called Sita Sings the Blues.
“...and finally, it seems to me that the two musical performances tonight had completely different looks! Is that true?”
There was a few seconds of silence before the crowd realized that Pinkie was actually allowing the two party planners to answer a question for once.
“Yes, that is quite perceptive, Miss Pie!” exclaimed one of the organizers. “Fire Engine here organized Daft Buck’s performance (using entirely too many lasers), while I took care of Miss Shore’s performance—”
“And ruined it with too many smoke pots!” interrupted the second of the Perturbs.
“I did not!” protested Eggplant Perturb. “My concert was much better than yours!”
“You know,” said Fire Engine, sounding thoughtful. “I think you’re right, Eggplant.”
“Y...you do?”
“Sapphire Shores’ concert performance may well have been much better than Daft Buck’s. But I’ll never know for sure, because I couldn’t see a thing through all that smoke!”
“You take that back!”
A vigorous shoving contest then followed.
Vinyl put a hoof to her forehead and sighed. From their voices alone, these two were a couple of bullies, if of two different types. Fire Engine was the type of bully who’d shove you to the ground and steal your lunch money while laughing at how funny you look sprawled out in the dust, while Eggplant would be the type to walk away from a runaway reaction in Alchemy class and then, when told the resulting explosion had totaled the building, would reply with a completely insincere “oops!”
“That’s funny,” Vinyl remarked to Pinkie. “I didn’t think the Canterlot city council would grant party planning licenses to dragons.”
“LIES!” shouted the surprisingly strong voice of the tiny Zip Perturb. “LLLIIIEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” He punctuated the “s”’s by pawing the air.
“What?” protested Vinyl. “You’re not dragons? I’m sorry, you sound just like them.”
“It’s...a throat condition!” said Zip.
“Well,” said Pinkie. “They are kinda scaley, and their manes are kinda platey, but otherwise they look like ponies to me! If Fire Engine and Eggplant are wearing disguises, they’re very good. Zip’s, on the other hand...”
“I’M A NORMAL EQUESTRIAN MAMMAL!!”
“...Zip’s is very...loud. Okay, Perturb, Perturb and Tiny Perturb, that’s all the questions I have! You can get back to what you came over here for!”
“What did we come over here for?” asked Fire Engine.
“Heck if I know,” replied Eggplant. “Hey look over there, soft pretzels!”
“Dibs!” cried Fire Engine, as the two elder Perturbs had a running/shoving match to the snack table.
“Dib?! Where?!” cried Zip, turning quickly in a circle before noticing that the other two were gone. “Coming, My Tallest!”
Vinyl waited until he was gone before asking, “Were they really that tall?”
“Oh yes,” replied Pinkie. “They were nearly as tall as Princess Celestia! Of course, they couldn’t be taller, because that would make them the Princesses! Or was that some other form of government I’m mixing up with Equestrian Principality?”
~ ~ ~
Vinyl took up her spot beside Pinkie behind the stand, and then on second thought sent Pinkie away on a break. She figured this move quintupled her chance of actually accomplishing anything productive.
Sure enough, before long somepony approached the stand, accompanied by the clicking sound of claws on pavement.
“An interesting invention you have here,” a smooth male voice said.
She was somewhat surprised to realize that this was a griffon. Griffons tended to have...much more obvious entrances.
“Ah, yes,” she replied after a moment. “The music is stored in digital form, thereby allowing a high-fidelity playback every time.” There, she told herself, that’s a good slogan! Isn’t it?
“Yes,” said the griffon, “that was precisely the aspect that caught my attention. Have you considered what else you might use the medium to store besides music?”
“Besides music?” the DJ asked. “No, it never occurred to me.”
“Digital storage means the sound was converted into numbers. Well anything can be converted into numbers, so your invention should be able to store any sort of data. Perhaps a great deal of data.”
“Hmm...” Vinyl calculated. “44.1 KHz, 74 minutes, carry the...about 5.4 billion bits, give or take.”
“...Billion bits!” the griffon exclaimed, his voice seeming to swim in greed for a moment. “Oh, you mean bits of information! Well, that is a large number in any case.”
“Yes,” said the unicorn, “you should be able to fit a good-sized encyclopedia on one of those, assuming you left out the pictures and just kept the text.”
“That could prove very useful for the secure storage of financial or...other types of data, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I imagine so,” said Vinyl. “Look, I hope you weren’t hoping for some kind of business partnership out of this idea of yours, especially if, to be somewhat blunt, you haven’t got any capital to bring into the arrangement. I’ve already got a corporation going already, albeit in a somewhat rocky shape at the moment and, when it comes right down to it, your idea is just that: a simple idea. I can already work out the technical details of how to read and write data all by myself. I hope I’m not coming off as being rude, sir.”
“The name’s Mentar,” said the griffon, sliding a card across the table towards her. “As a fellow business...creature, I am well aware of the relevant clause in Equestrian copyright law. It was simply an application of your technology that I, as a potential consumer, would be willing to...consume.” He picked up the business card that Vinyl had passed his way in exchange. “You work out of Fillydelphia? Nice city, lots of factories. I can see why you chose it.”
“It happens to be my home town,” Vinyl replied. “And it is pretty nice, except in the summer, when most ponies head north.”
“Ozone?” asked Mentar.
“Yes,” agreed Vinyl. “A small side effect of industrialization.”
“Ozone is a very interesting substance,” the griffon informed her confidentially. “It has an amazing effect on certain alchemical reactions. I’ve been toying with a method to extract large quantities of it from the air.”
“Well if you ever perfect your method, I’m sure the population of Fillydelphia would be most grateful,” Vinyl said.
“That would be a change,” muttered the griffon, low enough that he probably didn’t expect Vinyl to hear. “Well,” he addressed her, “the hour is getting late and, by the presence of iron rods where spines should go, I see a trio of off-service Royal Guards heading this way, so I believe I will take my leave of you, madam. As a final word of advice, may I suggest printing your business cards with a raised font, like I do? That way everypony will be able to read them. Good day!”
Vinyl experimentally raised Mentar’s card with her horn after he had left and lightly brushed it across her lip, which allowed her to easily read his name and address. She lowered the card gently and stood there for a while, lost in her thoughts.
~ ~ ~
“Excuse me, do you mind if we set up our stand next to yours...Miss Scratch! What a surprise to see you here!”
Vinyl shook herself out of her reverie and pointed her head in the direction of Oars in Wells, the pony who had just spoken. “Likewise!” she said. “If you wish to set up shop, go right ahead. Are you here to put on your illusionist act?”
“Only incidentally,” said Mr. Wells with a laugh in his voice. “This stand is for Daft Buck, to allow them to meet their fans.”
“Did you build their little ‘Technologic’ prop for them?” Vinyl guessed.
“That’s it exactly!” the etheric producer exclaimed. “The usual operator for this very unusual puppet seems to have the same bug that seems to be infecting everypony nowadays, so I was happy to step in and operate it for the concert. I use a special piece of equipment that I do believe you invented a couple of years back, to transform my voice into the rather disturbing cross of baby colt and century-old parrot that the band picked out. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow a bit of the tent fabric to form a curtain to keep my presence a secret from the visitors, so I may continue to operate the little equunculus whilst maintaining the illusion that it is in fact alive.”
“Go right ahead,” said Vinyl. She had never heard the word “equunculus” before, but supposed it was just another word for “puppet”, for the use of ponies who wanted to feel intellectually superior.
~ ~ ~
At the same time as she was conversing with Mr. Wells, Vinyl was also listening in on a conversation between the same guard ponies and their filly friend that she had overheard earlier.
“Here’s your drinks,” said Nomde.
“What happened to the candy?” asked Crack Shot.
“It’s all gone,” the filly unicorn told them. “A tiny Day-Glo green diamond dog ate the whole lot in a matter of seconds, and then launched into a high-pitched duet with Pinkie Pie!”
“Wait, you know Pinkie Pie?” asked Storm.
“Doesn’t everypony?”
~ ~ ~
Vinyl had in fact heard that particular duet (about the addictive qualities of something called “high-fructose corn syrup”) during her conversation with Mentar, and had with some difficulty managed to block it out enough to carry on a rational discussion.
~ ~ ~
Finally, at the same time as the conversation with Mr. Wells and the overheard conversation with the guard ponies, her stand had been approached by a very stern pegasus who silently inspected her wares.
“Of what possible use is this infernal contraption to somepony who already owns the finest in vinyl reproduction?” he asked at last.
Vinyl repeated the line she had come up with about high-fidelity playback.
“And why should I trust a bit of my funds to you, Miss Scratch?”
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Vinyl replied, trying to sound as genuinely humble as possible. “To which illustrious personage am I addressing?”
“I am the Right Honorable Judge and Lord Keen,” he informed her curtly. The “judge” part of the title was largely illusory, as the justice system was practically non-existent in Equestria.
Lord Keen was the most-powerful pony in Canterlot who didn’t have the word “Prince” or “Princess” in front of their name. If she brought him over to her side, this entire crisis was over. If on the other hand she failed to do so or worse, managed to insult him somehow, then she might as well give up on being a businesspony forever.
Vinyl bowed her head low as she remembered Lord Keen’s financial record. She knew exactly the one thing she needed to say to gain his support. Not only a lie, but a horrible monstrous lie.
If you say it, I’ll never respect you again, said the inner voice of DJ Pon-3.
Nopony respects me now anyway! Vinyl Scratch’s thoughts replied angrily. We’re just an entertainer to them! How many times have our employers mistaken us for one of our competitors, or vice versa? A DJ is just an ornament for their parties, like the firework display or the ice sculpture, and equally interchangeable.
We are artists! Pon-3 mentally proclaimed. Our works will live on for ages to come! Will anypony remember Lady Neufrichfeld a generation from now?
They may not remember her, Vinyl’s thoughts replied, but Kappa Cider and her batteries will be remembered forever and nopony, nopony whatsoever, would care at all if she had a disability, in fact they would applaud her even more! Would anypony say the same of a disabled artist, a disabled servant?
Pon-3’s inner voice was silent, for she knew her other self was right.
“Well?” said the judge, waiting to see what this businesspony before him was willing to do to make a sale.
The answer was: anything. “You may think this presumptuous,” she began in a trembling voice, “but I believe I may have encountered you before—on the Stalliongrad Chasing Grounds.”
“Ah!” the judge replied, allowing some warmth into his voice for the first time. “A fellow chaser! Well met! What is your favorite species to chase?”
“Rabbit.” It was the first thing that popped into Vinyl’s head, so she said it. She immediately began to feel sick to her stomach.
“Ah, that is my favorite as well!” Judge Keen exclaimed. “The sudden twists and turns, the sheer terror in their eyes when you have them cornered! Very good, Miss Scratch, very good! I’ll take one of these players of yours, and that collection of opera choruses over there to begin with. Now what do I owe you?”
“No charge,” she croaked out. “Special promotional offer.”
“I understand perfectly! A bit of bait to get them interested, and then you reel them in! You are most certainly a pony after my own heart! Good day to you, madam!”
“Good...day.”
~ ~ ~
“Miss Scratch!”
Vinyl suddenly jerked her head up in the presence of Kappa Cider.
“Did I just hear that conversation correctly?” the industrialist quizzed her. “A rabbit chaser? Really? From a pony who claimed to have contributed to the Fund for the Preservation of Rabbits from Chasing? Are there no depths to which you will not sink to sell your products? We entrepreneurs must be bound by a sense of obligation, to truthfully use our position of trust to benefit and not harm the communities that welcome us into their hearts! You know, I was intending to approach you tonight in hopes of donating my batteries to you, to help you through your crisis, but now that I see what manner of pony I am dealing with, I believe I will simply rescind my promotional rate and charge you the market price!”
“I...”
“No, I need no explanation from you, Miss Scratch. And don’t fear that I’ll cancel my contract—unlike some ponies, I am a mare of my word!” She then turned and stepped away from the very shocked DJ. “Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, Selene,” she said before walking away.
“Selene?” Vinyl asked herself.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before exploiting public information and private trust for private gain,” Selene’s voice whispered in her ear, despite the fact that the pony was several body lengths away.
I have been rebuked by a goddess, Vinyl realized. And every word she speaks is the truth.
There was nothing more for Vinyl Scratch to do at that point but to pack up and try to get out of the party as quietly and quickly as possible. A small blessing was the fact that Pinkie never returned to the stand. She didn’t doubt for a second though that the party pony had heard everything, and would report it all to Twilight.
The only slight consolation came as she was leaving: Hoyden, Sundance and Selene visited the Daft Buck stand and once Selene had ascertained that there was no puppeteer above or below the little plastic horse figurine to operate it, she had playfully addressed it:
“So, Mr. Technologic, what kind of candy do you like the best?”
“I like the bones of day-old fillies,” answered Mr. Wells from behind his curtain.
Vinyl fled the scene faster than she ever thought possible, with the horrible thought of a goddess scared out of her wits propelling her onward.
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ooooooo.... Selena, you are sneaky like fox
is that a Zim reference i spy?
Okay, so Progress, The Doctor, In Her Majesty's Royal Service. Don't recognize the Perturb family or Mentar but they felt like references as well.
Did I miss any? Lord Keen possibly?
1371427
Lord Keen's original. The Perturbs are a crossover with another cartoon--I'm sure you can figure out which one with a little thought. Mentar's a con-artist griffon character from a series that has not yet been posted to FIMFiction.net--see the EqD post here. The guy even has his own fan-composed theme song, so that's got to count for something.
ah hell naw!
so it's ok for her to withhold the fact that Vinyl is the prophesied savior of Equestria which is why Celestia wont correct the media. (a lie by consent) but not ok for Vinyl to lie to try and fix the damage!
Luna need to get the buck of her high horse.
1449893
Well, it's not exactly Luna's choice. She's constrained by a higher power--if she breaks the prophesy by helping Vinyl out, then all prophesies become null and void, and then anything could happen in Equestria. The whole advantage of having prophesies, to know when in advance the really awful stuff was going to happen, would be totally negated.
1453000 Unless, of course, said prophecies turn out to be the reason said peril came about, self fullfiling prophecies are some of the worst kinds. Personally, I would say "Screw the rules I'm doing whats right!" to that, but I suppose humans have a better record of screwing fate than ponies. Depending on the work, though, of course.