Duet in the Dust

by David Silver

21 - If Television Died, Can Radio Be Reborn?

Duck led the way, quacking softly with every other step. "You're gonna love it, promise! You ever play on a radio before?"

"Once," admitted Octavia as she followed. "In Manehattan. They were broadcasting the entire symphony, of which I was a small part."

"Wow!" He looked over his shoulder at her. "You were part of a whole bunch of people, all playing at the same time?" He hopped towards a closed door, grabbing at its handle in his wings. "I hope I can try that someday. Was it a lot of fun?"

"It was a challenge." She nodded softly as he opened the door. Inside was lit with small panels and things. It was more of a closet than a full building, at least the accessible parts. There was a large microphone sitting on the counter, and two chairs beside that. "This is where you broadcast then?"

"Yup!" He hopped up onto one of the chairs and started rapidly patting the other. "Come on! I'll introduce you to everyone!"

Octavia set her cello down carefully just inside the door before hopping up on the other chair. It was more of a stool, soft beneath her haunches. "I presume you would want me--"

"Hello Turves! Hello everyone!" cried out Duck joyfully in the direction of the microphone. "It's D U K, Duck on the air and ready to bring some smiles to all the faces that need it, Quack!"

Octavia flipped her ears back. "O-oh, are we already--"

"With me is a special nice mare. Say hello!"

"Yes, well, hello and greetings." She nodded towards the microphone as if it could see it. "I am--"

"This is Octavia Melody, and she's gonna play some amazing music for you all, so you're in for a real treat! I heard it before and it was really good. A little sad, but good. Good sad. Quack! Ready?" He waved at her dramatically.

As it turned out, Octavia was far from ready. Her instrument was propped up near the door and she was on the stool. Being put on the spot had her scrambling back to the ground, teeth clenched in surprise.

"She's getting her instrument, so while we wait, I'll go over a few boring things, like the weather! It's overcast." He leaned to the side, peering back outside of his radio station. "Maybe the sun will come out today? Wouldn't that be amazing?! It's not too hot and not too cold. Feels nice on my feathers, quack. The wind is kinda mild, so no ash in your eyes today."

Octavia stood up, her cello cradled against her, bow in hoof.

"She looks ready now. Are you ready?! Don't actually answer, I can't hear you, silly." He stuck out his tongue at the microphone. "Here she is, Octavia Melody, playing, uh..."

"A song written by a pony long since passed." She let out a slow breath. "He left us with wondrous music, and through it, he still lives. This is from his first suite." She began to play, her face turning to one of tranquil concentration as she slid the bow across the strings, summoning the lively tunes that made up the song.

Duck began to clap along to the beat of the song. To his credit, it was mostly silent, the clop of his hooves purposefully kept quiet to let her play her piece for all the wastelands within reach of his radio tower to enjoy. His smile looked painfully wide, enraptured by the music that spilled from the refined pony and her stately instrument.

Soft thuds shook beneath her hooves. She glanced in the direction they came from, but did not pause in her playing. To interrupt a suite mid-playing? That was not something she would do easily. She wove from one part of the composition to the next, faithfully rendering it from her memory to play through the increasingly familiar instrument at her hooves.

Was the song she played even known to the world she was sharing with? There was a good chance it was entirely unknown, and the thought excited her a little. She was sharing something special, something grand. Some of those who heard it may never hear it ever again, but would they ever forget it? Perhaps it would stay with them, in their hearts, through the hard times.

The thuds had stopped, good. Whatever had caused them had hopefully passed by, leaving her to play her piece for however many souls were listening to their broadcast. Was it only a few? Dozens? Hundreds? She wished for a moment she could know, but that seemed impossible. The radio could only sing out into the void, and never hear a reply. She would touch the wastelands with a dash of grace, and would have to be satisfied even if no one heard it at all.

That made playing the entire suite important. The longer she played, the higher the odds that some tired soul would find their broadcast. Perhaps a smile would be gifted to a weary face. For just a small time, they would forget their troubles and pains and just listen. They would be with her, in the dance of her and her instrument. They would be transported to another time, and another place. She would free them for a little while, and it would be good.

She felt a presence all too close. Arms were wrapping around her. They didn't get in the way of her own arms, as if specifically trying to not get in the way, outside of the gross violation of her personal space. She cracked an eye open to see Duck was hugging her. He was hugging her, and crying, and smiling. She wasn't sure how to process that, but a little pride stirred in her. She had moved at least one person, impressed on them some of the spark of the work she reproduced. Of course, that didn't mean he should have been embracing her, but she had a song to play, and she meant to complete it, for anyone else that may discover her playing for as long as it remained.

The sensation redoubled. She was being hugged, again, from the other side. She switched which eye was open to see Bullette Belle had grabbed onto her, hugging tightly but silently. She wasn't sure how the metal filly had snuck up so silently, but then, perhaps her own playing had provided more than sufficient cover for the stealthy little one to creep up on her. Beyond the little filly was an awkward No Name, sitting patiently. Thankfully, he wasn't trying to join the others in grabbing at Octavia. She wasn't sure she could have pressed on if he had done that.

As she drew the final note free of the cello, she dipped her head towards the microphone, taking a soft breath as she did so. "Thank you for listening. I may never see you, those who are listening, but know that I hope your day is a little better."

"My day is!" eagerly piped Duck, rushing back for his chair. "I'm gonna try to get her to come back and play more often, Quack! So stay tuned to hear more great music. Don't worry, I'll play too! For now, bye bye!" He slapped a button with a wing and pivoted back towards everyone else. "Oh gosh, that was great! Thank you! Um, oh! Belle! Hi hi hi!"

"Hello, Duck," musically chimed Bullette. She leaned in closer to Octavia, whispering, "His operations are not at 100%, but he is friendly. Danger level: green."

Octavia nodded at that, agreeing with the assessment. "No Name, nice to see you again. You don't have to hide out there."

"You say that." He poked his head into the small space. "There literally ain't enough room for the rest ah me."

Duck waved a hoof eagerly up at No Name. "Hi hi hi! Howya doin'? Did you hear the music?"

"Yeah." He nodded towards Octavia. "That was... nice. Who gave you that?" One of his snakes, the one speaking, pointed its head at her cello.

"The queen," admitted Octavia as she tucked the cello back in its case, resting its bow in with it. "I really should check in with her. I owe her a performance. Does she listen to your radio, Duck?"

Duck bobbed his head. "Sometimes. She's, like, super busy, so not all the time, but that's alright." He bounced down to the floor, landing on his hooves lightly. "You already know each other? Great! All my friends are friends of my friends, quack!"

No Name reached with a hoof for Duck, which proved easier as the pony rushed up to accept the pat on the noggin. "Hey, Duck, do you know any full-up healer sorts?"

Duck tilted his head without moving it away from the patting. "I can heal a little..."

"More than that I think." He shook his head. "Big time stuff."

Bullette turned on the conversation. "Error. Information not present. For what reason would you require a healer?" She gasped dramatically. "Is Vinyl still hurt?!" she exclaimed in a warble, her octave shifting wildly.

Octavia shook her head at the small metal filly. "She's fine, relatively, but we all breathed in that awful gas, and it's still there." She pat herself on the chest gently. "And removing it is something that apparently requires something called a 'cleric'." She raised a brow. "Do you even know what that is, precisely?"

Bullette sat up, clearing her digital throat. "A cleric is a specific variety of spellcaster, powered externally by devotion to an extraplanar being of considerable power. There are other varieties of spellcaster that wield magic in this same, divine, classification of magic. Clerics are notable for their flexibility, being able to prepare a wide variety of spells daily to meet the requirements of the day." She said it all as if she were reading from a dictionary, looking quite self-pleased as she sat up so very tall and straight. Professor Belle was ready and present.

Duck thrust a hoof at her. "Yeah, that thing. I'm Duck. I play music." He bobbed his head with clear pride in his profession. "I also bake bread. Anyone want some?" He suddenly booped Bullette right on the end of her snout. "You need bread! Little fillies need lots and lots of bread."

Bullette bobbed at him, looking quite pleased. "Then I should consume large quantities of bread."

"Yes, yes you should," Duck agreed easily. "Come with me!"

He took off in a scramble of galloping hooves, quacking the entire way. No Name ducked to the side, giving room for the pony to squirm out around him and dash down the street. "Huh... You following him?"

Bullette shook her head. "He will return, and leaving the radio like this is unrecommended."

Octavia glanced at the microphone. "An excellent point. We really should lock this place up if we're not using it." She shouldered her instrument over her back. "And we still have to find one of those 'clerics' of yours. Are they common? I'm not sure how much I favor the idea of a pony getting magic from... something else like that."

No Name shrugged softly at that, backing away out of the doorway. "There are nice gods, and not so nice ones. The people who go bowing to th' nice ones ain't all bad. 'Hear my voice and obey, be nice to yer neighbors,' ain't such a bad message. Just got to watch out fer the messed up ones."

Bullette put a hoof to her chest. "I follow a greater power!" Both of the others peered at her skeptically. "I am a loyal follower of friendship and the mighty power it contains." She pointed the same hoof at No Name. "Do you accept friendship into your life?"

No Name's lips tugged into a bit of a smirk. "Well, ah guess ah can make room fer that, of all thin's. But yer gonna call me out like that? Really?"

Octavia dipped her head. "That is a force I could accept as well." She stepped past Bullette, emerging onto the street beside No Name. "We pay heed to elements much like that, in my world. The Elements of Harmony, all facets that a pony should strive towards to make the world more harmonious and everyone in it happier."

Bullette half-pronked out after Octavia. "Please tell me more! Did you have a favorite? What was it? What was your least favorite?"

Octavia considered the filly that had been crippled a few days previously. She seemed to have recovered, from the way she was bouncing around. "How did it go... Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Laughter, Kindness, and a little Magic to bind it all together. I am uncertain if I could be considered a living embodiment of any of those, but that is just as well. We have ponies that are, and perform a more than adequate job."

"You have magic," noted Bullette with a nod.

"You're plenty kind from what ah know of ya." No Name joined in the nodding.

"You are very loyal to your friend, Vinyl Scratch," continued Bullette.

"Your generosity is the only reason we weren't filled with bullets." No Name hiked a brow. "Really, only thing yer missing is a bit of laughter. You save that for special occasions. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

Octavia's cheeks were burning. Being called a fine example of the elements was a high compliment, even if she was certain neither of them were trying to do it specifically. "I... thank you..." She remembered the little bandit mare she had spared, who in turn had spared Octavia and her friends. "That could have gone better... Beside that, laughter is more about making those around you happy, more than constantly being happy yourself."

Bullette thrust a hoof at Octavia. "Then you are even better! You are a source of morale." She changed the aim of her hoof to indicate the case draped over her back. "You are very skilled at the operation of that musical instrument. Its frequencies were most pleasing. I would like to hear more."

No Name gently pat Bullette on the head. "Didn't figure you were much fer that kind of music?"

She bounced away from his hoof, frowning at him. "Why would you think that?! It was a musical composition of great complexity and depth." She bobbed her head. "Listened to as a whole, it was pleasant. The more one examined it, the more there was to see. It remains art even upon investigation. That is something I can appreciate."

Octavia wondered just how much Belle could examine classical pieces. "It's a great relief to have a cello once more." She patted the tucked-away instrument. "I'll have to play it more often... I still owe the queen a performance." She sighed softly. "I mentioned that already. I really should go see if she's available."

"Waaaaaiiiiit!" Duck came rushing back, quacking along the way. Bouncing on his back were two large baguettes. "Bread's here," he triumphantly announced as he came to a skidding halt, dust kicking up from his rough and sudden deceleration. "Here ya go." He reached back and grabbed one end of a loaf in his mouth and pulling savagely, tearing it right in half. He offered it towards Bullette Belle. "Fillies get first dibs."

Belle sat down on her haunches and reached out with both forehooves, accepting the loaf between them and drawing it close. "You are very kind, D-u-k."

"Yes, that is me, D-u-K, Duck! Quack! Eat eat!" He pulled off the second half of the same load and held it out towards Octavia.

Octavia reached out a lone hoof, just for the loaf to flop to the ground. The loaf was, alas, not enough of a musical instrument to qualify for her hooves to work properly. She brought in her other hoof to scoop it up. The smell tickled at her nose and she smiled. It was bread, real bread. It was a small piece of a normal world. For just a moment, she forgot everything else and took a big bite out of the bread, sinking past its crunchy exterior to its soft and warm innards.

It didn't taste of loss, decay, and desperation. It was warm and soft and melted on her tongue where it didn't demand to be crunched. It was... lovely. Surely, she knew on some level, it would not satisfy what she needed to live, but as a treat, she savored it, sighing gently into the bread before she went for another mouth-watering bite of its fluffiness.

Duck watched Octavia savoring her bread, struck silent for a moment. "Wow... She likes bread almost more than me. Almost." He pulled free the other baguette and began tearing and pecking at it like a starving duck, getting an impressive half of it into his mouth, the other half scattering over the ground as he quacked joyfully. It was only after several large inches of bread were destroyed that he remembered. "Oh yeah!" He ripped the remaining bread in half and offered the remainder towards No Name. "Your share!"

No Name leaned in, several snakes grabbing the bread away from Duck in a communal snatch. They proved more cleanly eaters than Duck, chomping down mouthfuls of the bread. One of the snakes abstained, looking instead to Octavia. "You wanna go find Longshot? Bet she's makin' the rounds or somethin'."

"Ah, yes." Octavia rose to her hooves, tucking the bread between herself and her instrument, held to herself by the weight of the instrument. "Thank you, all of you. You've all contributed to what has been... a relief of a day."

"You're welcome! Quack." Duck stuffed the last of his share of the bread down his throat before looking to Bullette. "Wow, you finished it already?!"

Bullette was no longer holding any bread. There were no hints of it ever having existed anywhere around her. "It was prepared very well. Thank you."

"Aw, you're welcome." He bounced over to give her a warm hug, oblivious to the hard shell of metal that covered her. "If you want more bread, come by any time, Quack. Bu-bye, new friend." He waved frantically at Octavia as she started to leave. "Come back tomorrow to play again. I bet a lot of people really liked that!"

Octavia inclined her head lightly at him as she began a trot. "I may do just that. Take care, all of you." She sped away from the radio station, her hooves feeling lighter than they had before. Sure, they were still in need of so many things, but it wasn't all bad. Perhaps... she could, even if all the chips fell, at least improve things in her own little way.

Speaking of that, she had a queen to entertain. Octavia thought back to the times she had played for Celestia. She couldn't imagine Longshot would be the same. While Longshot was a queen, she was also a sheriff. She did not have the detached majesty of Princess Celestia, nor did she really seem to try to do so. She was a pony, an important one, worthy of respect, but still just a pony.

"Nice song." There stood Little Rose. For once, he didn't have a gun slung over his shoulder. He didn't appear to be on-duty for guard patrol. "That was you, right? Just making sure I didn't get names confused."

Octavia smiled brightly. "You heard it?" The smile faded softly. "How?"

He tapped at the side of his head and lifted a subtle earpiece. "When I'm on duty, I'm listening for other guards. Off duty, I listen for what's out there. Sometimes that crazy duck pony puts on something, usually better than nothing. Today, it was you." He pushed off the wall he had been against, lumbering across the road towards her. "You're really good at that, whatever it is. What was that?" His eyes fell to the large shape on her back. "Is that it?"

Octavia shied slightly, as if to protect the cello from him, but she felt silly for doing it. The guard bear meant her no harm, and had been nothing but kind since she had met him. "Yes. It's called a cello. It's... my favorite instrument."

"I could tell." He smiled toothsomely. "I never learned anything fancier than'a harmonica, and that's already kinda complicated if you get into it."

Octavia lifted an ear. "I never learned how to properly play one of those." She knew there was more to what seemed like a simple instrument, especially at the hooves and mouth of a true player. "There's no shame in that. Perhaps, some day, I will get to hear you play it."

His cheeks had lit up, darkening under his fur as he crouched down more to her level. "Aw, don't be like that. I know nothing I do will match up to whatever that was you were doin' on the radio. Where'd you learn such a fancy song?"

"A world away," she sighed out. "But... that means I get to bring it here, and that is a distinct honor."

"I bet." He stood up, slapping his leg with a big paw. "Don't figure I'll get far away from here unless they put me on a trade caravan, but even then I'll be right back here. Turves is my home." He waved at the humble houses. "Ain't a whole lot, but it's ours."

"It's a perfectly lovely town," disagreed Octavia. "I've seen smaller with less pride in itself, and that's a good thing. Your... community is strong and whole. You all... know each other, and smile about that. I haven't heard any nasty rumors floating around, and people chip in where it's needed."

"Rumor mongering?" His big nostrils flared in a snort. "That can get someone thrown in the stocks to reconsider things if we catch 'em."

Octavia blinked at that. "Really?"

"If it's bad." He crossed his arms. "Like you said, we're a big family. We can't have people talking bad about each other. Glad t' say we don't have to do that much. So, where you headed with a big instrument and one of Duk's treats?"

That reminded her that she still had a baguette stuffed between herself and the cello's case. "Oh, he gave that just now... Do you know where Longshot is, by the way? I owe her a performance and I would like to make good on it."

"Yeah? What'd she do?"

She tossed her head towards the cello, smiling at Little Rose. "It is her work and word that enabled my playing this instrument. Were it not for her considerable sway, I would still be useless."

"Now, don't say that." He waved it away. "Worst comes to worst, you could always help with manual labor. Always plenty of that. I like the music better though, so keep on playing that." He hiked a thumb further into town. "She's up ahead, take the first left, in her office. You been there?"

"I have." Octavia started forward. "I wasn't sure if she'd be there or not."

"She finished her route, saw her earlier. Go on." They shared waves, moving on with their prospective days.

Octavia hurried along, eyes distracted a moment by a full family of little ponies. A mother and father, she assumed, walking along proudly despite being as large as a foals each. Behind them, four actual foals, half again as large, followed after them in a big laughing crowd, excited about where they were going, though Octavia wasn't sure where that was.

Longshot's office came into view, its big golden star easily spotted as she approached it. "Here we are." She hoped nothing exciting was going on that would distract Longshot from the performance. "I do wonder what manner of music she prefers." Perhaps she had heard the radio broadcast, but it seemed easily likely she had not, busy handling the town instead of listening idly to whatever radio happened to be playing at the moment.

Author's Note:

Can you taste that? It's not bread, but it is a slice. A slice of post apocalyptic life.

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Comments

[Chrome Masquerade]

"Hello, Duck," musically chimed Bullette. She leaned in closer to Octavia, whispering, "His operations are not at 100%, but he is friendly. Danger level: green."

A few bananas short of a hand, but they're still mostly fresh. Noted.

[Chrome Masquerade]

Bullette sat up, clearing her digital throat. "A cleric is a specific variety of spellcaster, powered externally by devotion to an extraplanar being of considerable power. There are other varieties of spellcaster that wield magic in this same, divine, classification of magic. Clerics are notable for their flexibility, being able to prepare a wide variety of spells daily to meet the requirements of the day." She said it all as if she were reading from a dictionary, looking quite self-pleased as she sat up so very tall and straight. Professor Belle was ready and present.

In Everglow, where gods are (even in this... stae of affairs) generally present, this is little problem. In other franchises however,, weeeeell....

[Crystal Treasure]

Duk is amazing xD I really liked this chapter. Octavia got to feel useful, Bullette was adorable as always.

the refined pony and her statement instrument.

stately, not statement

perform a more than adequate job.

Missing closing quotation marks.

[David Silver]

9187163
Fix fix fix. Duck is a good pony.

[StormDancer]

Nicely done, as always... and on a side note, I rather enjoyed the cello piece.

[badninja]

Great to see Octavia back in her element. Now I wonder how all of the listeners where moved by her preformance?

[FanOfMostEverything]

Hopefully as fulfilling for the listeners as it was for Octavia herself. Good on her for bringing a little beauty to the wasteland.

That said, I can't help but wonder where Bullette puts food. And what she does with it.

[RadicalDishonesty]

His cheeks had lit up, darkening under his fur as he crouched down more to her level. "Aw, don't be like that. I know nothing I do will match up to whatever that was you were doin' on the radio. Where'd you learn such a fancy song?"

Ah, the familiar refrain of someone who is interested in music. Likes it. And encounters someone who they know does it better, and the following bashfulness.

[Midknight Defender]

9212501

Yes The truth every musician knows: everybody else really is better at it than you are, no matter what nice things they say.