Chapter 47: The Cacophony of Life
Books and papers fluttered around Vinyl’s bedroom in a flurry of gentle, electrified magic. She would’ve preferred to swirl an arcane tempest around her, but the recovering unicorn couldn’t push her magic more without risking injury. This little effort was already taxing enough. Still, she couldn’t sit back and take it easy today, not when she finally had a lead.
“Burgundy red spiral. Burgundy red spiral.”
The budding archivist had been repeating her mantra as she sought it out within Summer’s writings. Her current box coming up short again, Vinyl swiftly popped open the next and began levitating its contents around her. Knick-knacks, notebooks, and loose papers hovered in a conga line of mementos for her to check. She sent each one back in a flash before they could tempt her away from her target. She needed to stay focused.
Her head was starting to ache from the magic use, but she pushed through the pain. Any headache she’d get from the exertion would be more manageable if she had the reading material she was seeking. The next in line was an accordion folder tied off with string. She reached up with her hooves and undid the knot, flipping it open to find several pieces of sheet music.
“‘Call Away Castaway’, ‘Blue Horn Bayou’, ‘Only You in My Heart’... Spiral!” Not sparing another second, Vinyl reached in with her mouth and pulled on the metal rings, recovering a very promising notebook from inside.
The unicorn nearly dropped her levitation spell in the rush of excitement. With a quick flourish of sparkles, she returned everything else to the box to focus on her prize. It was a deep, reddish spiral that was actually labeled for once with “SWING LESSONS” written across the front. Vinyl nearly squealed in delight as she clopped her forehooves together.
“This might be it.” She reverently opened the cover to look inside.
Big Band Swing: simple, clear melody, strong beat to dance to.
Two flavors: Sweet and Hot
Sweet — Slower and softer for high class functions. The noble’s party music.
Hot — louder, faster, and puts the rhythm down. The noble’s dirty secret.
Swing releases pressure of high society and breaks through with classy joy in spite of rigidity.
The words buzzed with familiarity. Vinyl flicked on her record player, waiting for Summers and Suede to confirm the find.
“Now, darling. Big band swing is more than just classy music to dance to,” Suede Shoes explained. “It has rules and conventions, just like any style of music. It is meant to be catchy and clear with simple foundational melodies to allow listeners to dance to and performers to build upon with improvisation.”
Summers hummed to herself in thought. “Okay. How about your slower stuff? Like everything on Only You in My Heart? I’m wanting that smooth mellow groove that can get sad, ya dig?”
“The album? That’s still swing, just a different kind called sweet swing. Good music to eat dinner to if you don’t want a classic quartet. I like hot swing to really get the hooves moving.” There was a pause on the other side. “Here, why don’t you write it down? I’ve got a spare you can use here.”
“Thanks, babe.” The sound of flipping through thick, crisp pages flapped over the air. “You always go for the classy stuff, doncha? Even your scratch paper is fab and a half.”
Suede laughed to himself, his voice as velvety smooth as his singing. “I never thought I’d hear a notebook of all things being called classy. Perhaps I’ve been spoiled by my station too much.”
“This cover’s making me crave red velvet cake.”
“I believe the color is burgundy wine, but I can see how you’d see that. Would you like to get some? I think cake will keep you awake for our first lecture.”
“Now you’re talking my language, baby! But, what’chu say about a lecture?”
The record cut off and Vinyl cut the power. She grabbed the notebook off the floor and hugged it to her chest as she fell back, kicking her hind legs in glee. “Haha! Yes! Finally! Something!”
After half-listening to the timeframe Fancy had recommended, she’d finally stumbled across something at the end of one of their sessions, and it was the most promising lead she’d ever received: one-on-one lessons from the last King of Swing himself! Vinyl stuffed the notebook back into the folder and rolled onto her hooves. With no time to waste, she ran across the hallway, shocking Fluffer Duster out of her cleaning from the sudden appearance of a sprinting unicorn.
“Sorry, Fluffs!” Vinyl threw out as she darted into the studio and plopped the folder on the work desk.
“Goodness, Vinyl! Where’s the fire?” the maid asked as she ducked into the studio. “You almost made me drop my dustpan!”
“This!” Vinyl proclaimed as she pointed to the notes. “I just needed a miracle and I think I might’ve found it!”
“While I’m glad you were able to dig something out, please be more careful. You don’t need to hurt yourself again, or me for that matter. Unicorn horns are sharp.”
Vinyl winced recalling how her carelessness had cost her friend before. “Yeah, you’re right. I got a little too excited.” She turned around in her seat and gave her friend her full attention. “Are you okay, Fluffs?”
“I’m fine, Vinyl. It was a little surprising, but no harm done, aside from spilling a little dirt.” She fluttered over to the desk, looking at the header of Vinyl’s find. “‘Basics of Big Band Swing?’”
“Yup. Summers was working on an album and asked for Suede to teach her about his music, and these are the notes!”
Where she’d hoped to eavesdrop on snippets of tutoring, she’d stumbled upon a veritable gold mine of information. Even if it was just Summers’ notes, these could prove to be invaluable insights into how Suede created his music. She flipped through the pages filled with penciled words. Hopefully Summers’ lifetime of journaling translated into being a meticulous notetaker. The folder itself was brimming with sheet music Suede had marked up himself. They ranged from some of his best, swinging hits to songs she’d never heard before.
“If I can learn their process, maybe it’ll help me when I’m trying to make my own swing music. I can add my own spin to Suede’s fundamentals and get this song working before the week’s over.” The papers flew around in her magical field as she tidied up the stack to reference later.
Fluffs nodded along and smiled. “That’s great, but are you sure you should be using your magic this much? We just took the ring off yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just paper.”
“Uh-huh. But how many boxes did you have to look through to find it?”
“I was careful,” she swore.
Fluffs simply stared, waiting through Vinyl’s failed poker face for a proper confession.
“Okay, geez! I have a little headache, but it’s nothing!”
The maid’s smile soured as she fluttered into the air in frustration. “Vinyl! If you push yourself too much, you won’t be able to play at all come Friday.”
“Okay, okay. Only basic levitation for an hour.” Vinyl swore as she lifted her pen. “Happy?”
Fluffs nodded. “But only the pen. After all, we need to maintain everything and everypony, right?”
“Right,” Vinyl agreed halfheartedly.
“Good. Now, I’ll be sure to come around to get you for dinner when it’s ready.”
“You don’t have to,” Vinyl assured as she turned back to her desk. “I’ll be there.”
Fluffer Duster frowned and narrowed her eyes. “Last time you said that, you ate cold spaghetti at midnight.”
Vinyl threw up her head back and groaned at the ceiling. “Fine! Whatever! Sweet Celestia, ever since I hurt myself, you all have been treating me like a filly.”
“It’s just because we care about you, Vinyl.” The maid shrank back slightly and kicked her hoof across the floorboards. “And, if I can be honest, I feel like we have to watch you or you’ll hurt yourself again. It’s like you care more about Summers than yourself sometimes.”
The worst part about the claim was that Vinyl knew Fluffs was right. She knew it, but stopping now would be almost as painful as reinjuring herself. Time was running out, and she needed to be productive, or at least she had the overwhelming urge to not waste time. Vinyl’s life had been a constant burn at both ends for years to scrape by. Now, she had no candles, but plenty of fire to go around.
“I just don’t know how to relax.”
“You can always ask me. When I’m not cleaning, I know some good ways to unwind.”
“Thanks, Fluffs. I’ll be a good girl until you get back.”
The pegasus giggled. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that and be back in a few hours. Good luck!”
With that, Fluffer Duster hovered out of the room to continue her daily cleaning duties, leaving Vinyl alone with Summers’ notes. Keeping to her word, Vinyl opened a notebook of her own with her hoof and grabbed her pencil in her magic.
“Okay. Taking it easy. No problem. I can do that.”
Suede Shoes was nothing less than a musical genius. Even in second-hoof short form written by a mare who clearly only got about half of what he was talking about, his talents shined through. Summers had an ear for what sounded good, but every few pages had a glossary of notes for defining basic musical terms. It was a small blessing that the foundational work of swing amounted to simplicity itself.
According to Suede, swing consisted of simple melodies with solid beats for the sake of clarity. The bedrock served as a starting point to build upon and improvise on the fly, which was where Vinyl had made her biggest mistake of overcomplicating her original composition. Some of the tricks and flourishes were so subtle that she hadn’t even registered them as improvisations. Despite Summers’ musical illiteracy, Suede had written down examples in the provided sheet music. It might’ve been somewhat wasted on Summers, but Vinyl was eager to try them out on her own.
Vinyl’s confidence had soared from even the few pages she’d poured over, at least until she’d stumbled on one page of the Summers’ notes on one of the musical fundamentals Vinyl was very familiar with: Call and Response.
The DJ frequently used the concept in her own music. Repetition was one of the cores of a trance. She’d lay a solid percussive beat to begin, introduce other sounds to lay the foundation, and finally drop in the melodic phrase to play with. Iterating on theme was part of the joy of the genre. Building it up, crashing it down, and stretching the tension all around to see what could be drawn from the progression. However, seeing it written down in another way of thinking gave her pause.
Call and Response — One instrument calls and the other answers.
- Complimentary: One starts a phrase, the other finishes it
- Contradictory: One starts an argument, the other raises the stakes
- Questioning: One asks a question, the other answers or asks back
- Repeating: One states, the other states again
Challenge - Write down examples of Call and Response outside of music in two minutes.
Mountain Echoes, Birdsong, Seatides, Lovers’ Hearts, Ketchup and Mustard, Birds and Bees, Paired Crystals, Dogs and Cats, Seasons, Socks, Sun and Moon
Though Summers had devolved into things that went together, the idea of paired crystals gave her pause. She’d attuned thousands of crystals trying to ensure they resonated cleanly with whatever sigils and foci they were being used with, but she’d never considered the musical concept of call and response with a crystal.
Conventional wisdom taught that crafting sigils served as a track for magic to follow. The enchantment either drew from the crystal itself, ambient magic, or the user’s primal mana to follow a specific, predictable spell. A magelight needed to shine every time it was activated, not randomly douse the user in water or teleport them across the country. The rigid, complex simplicity was why earth ponies, pegasi, and any other creature could use an enchanted item.
It was also why drawing anything from a cacophony crystal was nigh impossible. Anything put inside one became so distorted and entangled that it might as well have been chaos magic. It made sense, considering the cacophony rune itself served as a conduit for packing in as much magic as it could until it destabilized. Its predictable purpose was violently exploding, after all. Trying to find anything sensible to channel within the noise was akin to reaching into a birthday cake to pull out a pristine cup of sugar.
However, what if she didn’t try to channel anything from it herself? What if, instead, the crystal could respond appropriately to her request by itself? Not in something as normal as a somatic casting pattern. Those were just sigils by another name, with the same channeling problems. Her question was both far, far simpler and absolutely absurd on its face. If she couldn’t pull the sugar out herself, maybe the cake would give her a cup of it if she asked nicely.
Vinyl knew she was on to something. Something big. Something radically different than any approach she’d thought of before. Her mind was constantly throwing more fuel on the fire, turning her inspiration into a raging inferno. She needed to get to the school’s audio lab and—
A sudden wave of pain rattled Vinyl’s skull from the base of her horn. It ached with pulsating pressure that ratcheted like a vice around her brain.
“Stupid busted magic,” Vinyl hissed as she winced. She quickly grabbed her pencil by hoof and jotted down a few ideas in her notes to refresh her memory.
Looking at the clock, it’d only been an hour since she’d started. Vinyl hadn’t even gotten a single measure of music rewritten after getting sidetracked. The musician and researcher in her mind were at odds for her attention, and both demanded that she press on. It was only a little pain, after all. She’d suffered worse. So, she did what she needed to do. Vinyl stood up, trotted calmly across the hall to her room, grabbed the dampening ring off the nightstand, and put it on her horn again.
Oh, come on! her desires complained. You’re on the verge of a breakthrough!
“Nope. Don’t need you right now.” She trotted over to her painkillers and tossed back another dose. It was a couple hours early, but she needed the relief. She was tempted to crawl back into bed and try to nap it away, but the siren’s song of the collection being a few steps away was too great. Vinyl needed to be anywhere but here right now.
Aren’t you supposed to take those with food?
“Yep. And I know how to remedy that.”
With the Crystal Summit quickly approaching, Fancy was practically tied to his desk whenever he was home. Every day he answered letters, double-checked schedules, organized workers, and did whatever else his duties required of him. It was a small mercy that his informal station allowed him to stay out of the castle. Instead, he was able to simply borrow a phoenix flame candle to keep in contact with the princesses without anything distracting him.
At least until there was a knock at the door of the study; an odd occurrence, since he kept an open door policy with the mansion’s shared spaces.
Fancy turned to see who it was. “Yes?”
The door cracked open and Vinyl poked her head through, carefully looking around. “Can I come in?” she asked, her voice drained of strength.
Fancy shot up to attention. “Yes, of course! Are you alright?”
The mare said nothing as she entered, but Vinyl’s slow trudging with her hoof pressing against her head was enough of an answer. As she approached his desk, he noticed she was wearing the dampening ring again.
“Got any granola bars?” Vinyl groaned.
He paused for a moment from the unexpected question. “I do, but the kitchen has more variety.”
Vinyl shook her head. “Please. Just something, okay?”
With a slow nod, Fancy Pants forwent any mention of dinner fast approaching and opened his desk’s snack drawer. “White chocolate macadamia nut or blueberry?”
“Surprise me.”
With a nod, he grabbed a blueberry bar. Vinyl reached over to take it in her hoof, but Fancy stood up and walked around to her side instead. “Let’s just get over to the couch first.”
Vinyl stumbled at the offer. “You don’t have to do that. You’re busy with summit stuff.”
“Yes, but I believe we could both use a break from our work,” he insisted. “You especially.”
With a sigh, she conceded. “At least give me the bar. I can carry it by myself.”
“Then you’d have to stop holding your head.”
Vinyl’s eyes wandered up to her hoof under her horn, and she chuckled to herself. “Alright, but you’re not holding it while I eat, got it?”
Fancy smiled softly. “That’s what the coffee table is for.”
With the matter settled, Vinyl joined Fancy’s gait towards the fireplace. Despite her claimed desires of self-sufficiency, she leaned into him for support as he escorted her. He could feel her flowing mane resting against his neck and their barrels gently brushing together with each careful step. While Fancy was glad to have earned Vinyl’s trust, the warmth of her mere touch burned with unbearable comfort.
Fancy quickly helped his suffering guest up onto the couch to lie down. Setting the breakfast bar next to her, he quickly retreated to the safety of his liquor cabinet to pour a glass of water for Vinyl and to douse his soul in spirits. Fortunately, he hadn’t lost his magic to stress yet, but he was well on his way without a little wine to settle himself. Even if he knew where the lines were, he needed to stop letting himself be so easily caught between the blur.
“Stupid… Freaking… Gah!”
At first Fancy thought somepony had been reading his mind, but he turned around to see Vinyl fruitlessly fighting against the stubborn wrapper. She’d given up any sense of civility and was chomping on the end trying to bite her way inside.
Fancy flashed his aura near the corner of the bar. “May I?”
Vinyl sighed in defeat and held out the sealed granola. With a fluid flourish of magic, he cut around the wrapper to reveal the partially broken deliciousness within.
“Thanks,” she said before taking her first bite.
“You’re welcome.” The stallion hovered Vinyl’s water to the table as he took a seat in his favorite chair. He sipped his wine and took a calming breath, letting the slight burn of the alcohol give him strength. “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you to the study?”
Vinyl simply raised the bar and waved it around in her hoof.
“I see that, but like I said, the kitchen was available. Furthermore, it’s closer to your room.”
Seeing how she wasn’t going to get off that easy, she took a deep breath through her nose and swallowed her bite. “Because Maman, Fleur, and Fluffs are probably in there right now. They’d get on my case about… this.” Vinyl pointed to her aching head.
Fancy raised an eyebrow. “And I wouldn’t?”
There was a pause as she considered the question and nibbled on her food. “I liked my odds better with you.”
“So you’re saying I should spare you the obvious lecture about taking better care of yourself, ensuring you that the work will still be there when you’re better, and so on and so forth?”
Vinyl rolled her eyes. “Unless you want to make the headache worse, yeah.”
“We wouldn’t want that now, would we? That wouldn’t be much of a break for me anyway.”
Vinyl nodded slowly. “I got enough of a headache for the both of us anyway.”
“Then let’s avoid that while enjoying a little breather together.”
With that, Fancy took another sip of his wine and made himself comfortable in his seat. Instead of making conversation, he cracked open the Imperial book he’d been reading through in his spare time. A quiet crunch of the mare’s bar drew his attention before he immersed himself into his crystal tome. He spared one more look at his companion. She’d take a bite and then lay back down, covering her eyes with a nearby pillow to drown out the late afternoon light.
Deciding that wasn’t a good sign, Fancy stood back up and drew the curtains one by one around the room as he walked over to the liquor cabinet. Popping open the wine cooler, he began rummaging through the contents to see if he had anything that could help her.
“What’re you doing over there?” Vinyl asked, her ears flinching from the glass clinking together.
Fancy lifted a flat whiskey bottle in his magic, hefting it up and down to test its weight. “Improvising.” He then checked the drawers and spotted a container of salt.
Vinyl watched curiously as he rummaged through his cabinet, wincing at any sharp noise. “What, the wine not strong enough?”
“I have something different in mind.” Fancy retrieved a couple bar mops and laid them flat on the bar. He then reached for the scoop and shoveled some ice cubes from the icebox underneath and spread them across. Finally, he hovered some salt with his magic and doused the cubes to keep them from melting too fast before wrapping the whole thing up.
“Imperfect, but it’ll do the trick.” Fancy gently placed the makeshift cold compress on the mare’s head.
“You could’ve just gone and grabbed a cooling pad from the medicine cabinet.”
“True, but then that would’ve roused suspicions if I was caught,” Fancy said with a wink. “How does it feel?”
“Better. Thanks, Fancy.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to be a bad host.” He sparked the fireplace to life for some softer light before retaking his seat.
“You don’t have to do all of this.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Just relax for a while and let the headache wear off. I’ll be right here reading if you need me for anything, lecture or otherwise.”
Vinyl smiled and laughed. “Thank you.”
With that, she laid down, letting the backrest balance the bottle on her head. Fancy returned to the depths of his book as best he could. The text had become more difficult to read in the dwindling light, so he held the book closer to his face. With his poorer eyesight, that meant burying his muzzle deep enough to catch a whiff of the old pages.
“Can you even see the words?” Vinyl asked, noticing his slight struggle.
“Not to worry. It’s a little dim, but my natural magical aura provides a warm reading light.” After all, his convenience was a small price to pay for Vinyl’s well-being.
Another comfortable silence descended between the two. A page turn here, a bite there, small sips of liquor and water, and the intermittent pop of the fireplace. Occasionally, Fancy stole a glance over the top of his book to check on the mare. Though he enjoyed her pleasant company, he was hoping she’d drift off to sleep and rest her head. Given the flicker of her restless eyes, she was working through a brilliant idea or three he’d have no hope of fully grasping. Fancy hadn’t realized his own eyes had wandered to hers for a little too long after trying to read the same line for the fourth time and she caught him spying over his book.
“What’re you reading anyway?” Vinyl asked, her eyes darting away from his.
“Good question. I always forget the full title.” Fancy closed the book and flipped it around towards the fire. “The Chanters’ Tales of Fiery Hearts in Our Frozen North: Histories of the Crystal Empire.”
“Is it for the summit?”
“And for pleasure. While I’ve been assured that these events did occur, there’s clearly artistic license taken within these embellished accounts. Creative history makes for a fun read.”
Vinyl nodded along slightly, but her brow wrinkled as she considered it. “So wait, how are you supposed to know what’s real then if it’s all exaggerated?”
“You read the same story five times from five different perspectives. I’m sure strictly written histories are chronicled somewhere, but experiencing love in all of its myriad of forms is an important facet of the Crystal Empire. This here is the testament of five different chanters regarding the time after the coronation of Amore.”
“Just Amore? No princess or empress tacked onto it?”
“Of course, but not at first. She’s been called many things; Princess Amore, Empress Amore, Our Love Evermore, The Light of our Hearts. It can be a little difficult to keep track at times with how flowery each story becomes as Amore rises to power. I’m only about halfway through the second account, but I’ve already noticed several story beats that share the same information. That might as well be true.”
“That sounds infuriating.”
“Perhaps for empirical archivists like yourself. Imperials are far more comfortable with facts being lost to time. For them, the absolute truth is secondary to the context it bears today. What matters more to them are the feelings and lessons being passed down through the generations. Her name comes secondary to the impact her life had on those she loved, and that memory evolves beyond her identity.”
Vinyl’s face scrunched in disgust. “I hate that. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for you, but the idea that a bunch of snooty poets get to define who I am, and won’t even get my name right? Hard pass. I’d be known as the Screeching Banshee or something.”
Fancy hid his grimace behind his book as his mind reeled to push past the subject. “I hadn’t quite considered that. At the same time, I can see how the names of those that came before aren’t as relevant as their effects in the present. This more liberal view of history is quite beautiful in a way, even if it’s a little too open to interpretation for more exacting sensibilities. Speaking of which…” Fancy put down his book to give Vinyl his full attention. “I heard from Fluffer Duster that you made an exciting historical discovery of your own this afternoon in the collection. Not to belabor the point, but I’m assuming that your headache has something to do with it.”
Vinyl nodded her head slightly. “I did thanks to your lead, and now my mind is racing with a bunch of theories that I can’t test because of this stupid, busted horn.”
“Injuries aside, that’s wonderful news, Vinyl! Does that mean you’re over your creative block?”
The mare didn’t seem to know how to answer that as she sucked in a breath. “Kind of? But not the one I thought I would. I didn’t get any work done for this Friday.”
“That’s perfectly fine. I wouldn’t want you to perform if you’re still under the weather as it were.”
“Thanks, but what I mean is, if I’m right though, I think I might have something to show for all of my work at the school finally.”
“You mean your research into those complicated crystals? That’s amazing! I can’t imagine anything Mother had written down that could possibly help you.”
Vinyl blushed from the compliment, she nestled her face between her forelegs trying to hide the smile. “Actually, it was both of them together.” Vinyl looked at Fancy. “And all because you were chewing on a crystal. Good things just keep happening when you’re around.”
Fancy chuckled. “You give me far too much credit. All I did was point you in the direction. You’re the real talent doing all that legwork.”
“But you’ve helped me do so much since I started living here. Heck, even before I got here, you were helping me.”
“There were barriers holding you back from reaching your full potential, and I had enough money to remove them. Had they not been there, I’m sure you would be flourishing by now.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t want to change a thing. I like being here.”
“You do?” Fancy tried taking another gulp of his wine, only to find he’d already drained the glass dry. “I’m glad you’re happy here. I enjoy having everypony around as well. This place was always meant to be filled with ponies. There’s far too much room for just me.”
“Yeah, but that’s not why I like it. Even if the mansion burned down and we all had to cram into my old apartment, I wouldn’t mind.”
“What about the collection?”
Vinyl’s face fell as the thought tore through her hard enough to send another wave of pain. She winced and gripped her head. “Okay, maybe I’d mind a little.”
“Don’t worry. This place isn’t going anywhere for a long time. Just relax and try to rest your head for now,” Fancy said softly.
“With my magic all messed up, it’s not like I have much choice.” What happiness she had quickly left as her brow wrinkled. “Sorry that you’re always having to take care of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, I’m always getting hurt or freaking out or breaking down. Heck, the first time we really talked, I got drunk off my flank and you had to water me like a plant. I don’t know why you put up with me all the time.”
“You’re stacking the deck against yourself rather nicely when you fail to mention all the good work you’ve done since you’ve been here.” Fancy abandoned the book and gave Vinyl a supportive smile. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite when I think about it. When I hired you to archive the collection, I never imagined I’d be having to stop you from working. You should take pride in how much you’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time.”
“The collection doesn’t feel like work anymore. I mean, it does, but it’s so much more than that now. I don’t know how to describe it. Summers is like a teacher, a parent, and a friend all wrapped up in one pony. I’d give anything to meet her so I could tell her how much she means to me. Even if it was just for a second so I could say thanks.”
An old melancholy tugged at the back of Fancy’s head with that old wish to feel Summers’ feathery wings one more time. He took a long breath through his nose to savor the scent of bittersweet nostalgia. “I wish you could’ve met her as well. You two would have so much to talk about.”
“Thanks to you, I have in a way. And if I keep going, so many other ponies might get to know her too. Ponies like me that could use somepony like Summers in their lives.” Vinyl leaned her head to the side and looked towards the fireplace with a wistful smile. “I want to dethrone that hollow Queen of Disco so Sauna Summers can be remembered for the wonderful pony she really was.”
In the glow of the fireplace, Vinyl’s eyes danced with a sorrowful passion. Even though he had envisioned her working here with the collection so joyfully, he had no idea how attached she’d become to it. Every follicle of her fur was screaming with a desire to reveal the real Summers to the world. Fancy couldn’t believe that his veiled excuse to keep the poor mare off the streets had turned into such an important goal for her. Who was he to stand in the way if this was a good fate for her?
“If that’s how you feel, then you’re welcome to keep the key I gave you permanently. The Suede-Shoes Collection is yours.”
Vinyl whipped her head around, nearly throwing the bottle off of her head. “W-what?”
“Don’t act so surprised. Other than myself, I don’t know a single pony in the entire world that cares more about my mother’s legacy than you. You have the expertise and drive to do something with all of it and do it right, so if you want it, the entire collection is yours to do with what you will.” He looked back at the end table next to him and lifted The Chanters’ Tales in his magic. “You could even write a book about her if you want.”
The mare quickly sat up stammering to herself as she tried to form a sentence and balancing the whiskey bottle on her head. “But the whole reason you hired me to archive it in the first place was because you wanted me to keep any terrible secrets I found quiet! I haven’t even found the Moondance album in there!”
“I did, didn’t I?” Fancy leaned back in his seat and looked at nothing in particular. “It’s funny. I cared a lot more about that a few months ago before you got here. But, you know what? It’s not my place to decide what happens with that album. It was a gift given by Suede to Éclair. He just recorded it here.” Fancy chuckled to himself. “Legally, she holds the rights and royalties to his music anyway. If you do manage to find it in there, ask her what to do with it.”
“But, it’s my job here! I’m only staying here because you’re paying for everything.”
“That is true.” Fancy scratched his chin in thought, but quickly shrugged it off. “Then why don’t you take the ambassador room and studio as well?”
“You can’t just do that!” Vinyl screeched in protest.
“It’s not just that I can, but I feel as though I should. You’ve put them all to such good use already that it feels wasted on me. Besides, you’re Fleur’s sister now, and she has a key already. This is just tying up loose ends.” Fancy looked back down and leaned forward in his seat towards the flummoxed mare. “In my mind, you’ve more than earned it.”
Vinyl shook her head. “No. I don’t. It’s too much.”
Fancy stepped out of his seat and began trotting to Vinyl’s side, but as he got closer, she backed away from his approach. He stopped in his tracks and sat where he was to give the mare his undivided attention as he looked up to her.
“You’ve done so much good with my mother’s legacy that I let rot for years. You haven’t just earned it, you deserve it. Far more than I ever will. However, I know how you feel about such things. If this arrangement makes you uncomfortable, then just say the word and we’ll pretend this conversation never happened. Nothing has to change.”
Vinyl chewed her lip as she looked down from her seat. She laid back down so they would be eye-level, her face wracked with confusion. “What am I supposed to say to that?”
“Anything you want, Vinyl. I just want whatever will make you happy.”
“I-I…” The troubled mare stood up and looked away, a deep blush overtaking her face as she stammered for something else to say. She gripped her head and clamped her eyes shut. “I can’t think straight because of this stupid headache!”
Fancy’s heart clenched seeing the mare in pain, and his overwhelming gift was just making it worse. “Sorry, Vinyl. Don’t worry about any of that for now. Just lie back down and rest. Focus on getting better, alright?”
Vinyl grunted in frustration, but she ultimately lowered herself back down and leaned into the couch.
“This should go without saying, but just because you’re given a gift doesn’t mean you have to accept it. You always have a choice, Vinyl. Remember that.”
She nodded slightly, but kept her face turned away from him and any of the lights in the room.
Fancy stood back up and brushed his sweater off. After seeing the careless damage he’d done, he collected his wine glass and returned to his desk to give Vinyl some much needed space. He silently cursed himself for listening to his heart in the spur of the moment rather than thinking through the offer. Fancy was the kingmaker for a reason. He always needed to think things through lest they end in disaster, and even without using his talents, he should’ve known better than to offer something she’d see as utterly extravagant.
But even so, he wanted to give it to her. All of it. If Vinyl had the freedom to pursue whatever she wanted, a driven mare like her would become unstoppable. She could become a timeless musical star or a renowned master enchanter. All it took was a little money to clear her path and she’d lead a grand legacy filled with joy and laughter. Her time spent correcting the record on Sauna Summers would simply be a footnote in the saga of her life. The only fate she’d have would be one of endless, unfettered success.
That’s exactly what Fancy wanted. He wanted her to be happy. He just wanted her to be happy. It had to be that, because anything otherwise would be wrong. She deserved far more than he could ever give. That’s all that he wanted. It just had to be. Even if he couldn’t see it anymore, Vinyl’s happiness had to be all that he wanted. It could only be that because it could only ever be that. Anything more was too much for him. It’d be a waste.
Her precious smile would be wasted on him.
Her reckless brilliance would be wasted on him.
Her caring tenderness would be wasted on him.
Her shining youth would be wasted on him.
Fancy refused to allow a single thing of hers to be wasted on somepony like him. It would all be a waste, because he’d already seen his fate. An optimal fate. His optimal fate. The kingmaker knew it from the bottom of his heart.
Despite Luna’s claim of him being blind to his fate, he’d already glimpsed a beautiful one for himself before. And it wasn’t Vinyl standing at his side on the hills of Prance. Fancy was bound to that fate, married to it, whether the vision was ever realized or not. At least the outcome of that life was certain. Any divergence would go against everything his cutie mark ever told him. It’d be selfish to indulge in wanton uncertainty when there was a clear path before him. It was his weakness alone that failed to walk it after all these years.
He’d tried it before, walking towards it like a moth to a flame. The warmth was old, kind, and familiar. The light had burned steadily since his time in Prance. He’d rested in the scattering light for over twenty years, watching its flickering dance from a distance. Now, after years of admiring that blaze, there was another; a newer spark that had snuck up on him. By the time he’d realized it was there, it was already burning through his hardened heart, lighting it anew with its mere presence. Had he been paying more attention, he might’ve been able to put it out. It was too late though, and now he had to soldier on and do his best to contain it.
Before he settled back into his work, he stole one last look at the mare resting in the soft light of the fireplace. While he hated that she was suffering miserably from her headache, his selfish side was grateful that her eyes were shut tight. Vinyl wouldn’t have to see the face he was making, whatever it was. His heart refused to harden any further. Doing so would require the resolve of an ancient alicorn. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the one question repeating in his mind.
Why did it have to be her?
If you find a simple mistake in the GSP (Grammar, Spelling, or Punctuation), please let me know through a private message rather than leaving it in the comment section. Leave the discussions to discussions. Thank you for reading.
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Now I really want to know the rest of that glimpse.
Fancy, you idiot. You mean you have realized it already?
Take any creature you like, and they'll probably be the story of creature you expect. The sort that follows their path with maps and compasses. But then, there are those wild few like Vinyl who follow their path not with maps and compasses, but with lamps and machetes. Those wild few who, finding the beaten path lacking, will trailblaze a new one.
Vinyl didn't accept your hospitality because she had no choice, because there is always a choice (even if there is not an especially good one), but because it aligned with her goals. What do you suppose she'll do if you put an obstacle between her and her goals? Red tape might stop most creatures, but those wild few? What do you suppose that machete is for?
Anyway. Food for thought.
11598426
derpicdn.net/img/2014/4/12/598861/full.jpg
11598451
You had me at the first half, but then you mentioned him dropping obstacles and I got lost and confused without a machete.
Is Vinyl about to invent the concept of data compression but from a musical perspective rather than a mathematical one?
Is there something like a “Starswirl Prize,” for magical innovation? Because I think Vinyl is about to earn one.
11598459
Always carry a machete.
11598575
More that she's stumbled upon a new methodology for data access: Cacophony crystals hold a lot of magic (data), but if you try to pull anything out of it, it tends to violently destabilize and explode. The issue appears to be (from a non-expert) that the data is stored in the crystal in a relational fashion (scattered around wherever the pieces fit with reference links between them), but attempts to pull that data use a sequential method (begin where the first piece of data is and pull everything that comes after it until you reach the end of the block) which results in gibberish that the crystal is told to make sense of. This is not possible, so the crystal just explodes instead. Vinyl's new method appears to be, instead of grabbing a block of data and telling the crystal to validate it, request a block of data and let the crystal decide what is valid.
It's still going to be a significant achievement if it works. As in, if it works, it will completely revolutionize how data storage is handled.
If.
11598603
Patents from publicly funded research are always a mess. But if Vinyl is entitled to even a tenth of a percent of the rights she could end up richer than Fancy.
In Vinyl’s favor Celestia as the founder of the school would almost certainly want her little ponies to be fairly compensated for their contributions to society.
Against her is the fact that Celestia has a lot on her plate and could easily not have looked at the school’s policies towards student work in centuries. Faust only knows what the school bureaucrats could have done to them in the meantime.
This is gonna come back later. Given that her biological prognitor, I suspect, gave her little in the way of choices..
You need so much goddamn therapy.
11598685
She was given plenty of choices; she could indulge in whatever she wanted as long as it didn't interfere with the Plan. An issue only ever arose because at a certain point, she didn't want to be a part of the Plan anymore, and then she was given the choice of luxurious obedience or destitute liberty. She chose the only one that would allow her to continue making choices.
11598575 11598655
She's a smart one.
Make that patent money rain, y'all!
11598603
I was actually being serious. I have no idea what you're talking about.
11598685
Oh... oh.
No joke, that might be a problem for actual me then. That's the kind of thinking Fancy and I have in common, and the well I'm drawing from for that is well-established in my head. I kinda thought those sorts of insecure feelings about oneself were normal for everyone.
Also... to the discussion with 11598694 about having a choice. That's actually a callback from earlier in the story. Fancy had said that exact line one or twice and reinforced the sentiment multiple times.
11598726
Alright, who here doesn't need therapy?
11598728
Octavia and Steeplechase.
But again, there are only two characters in my head with this fic that I'd say absolutely need therapy. You've already got Vinyl right as hers is obvious. No one has figured out the second, and I won't be confirming that one until after it's obvious.
There is a third, but we don't talk about them.
11598726
I think insecurity is normal. It is certainly something I myself struggle with. But that's not to say it couldnt benefit from therapy depending on its extremes. A fear of spiders is normal, even common. But a fear of spiders so intense that it impacts ones life isnt. If you aren't leaving the house for fear ofnseeing a spider, it's time for therapy. Moments of insecurity which pass are common and something I think most people experience to some degree. Insecurity so profound it inhibits the formation of lasting friendships. That's a problem.
We are often our own worst critics, and I can spot plenty of imperfections in myself but the trait I most dislike is an need for external validation. I have a tendency to dominate the conversation, to show off, and though I care little for my physical appearance, I have a crippling need for reassurance that my friends and family actually like spending time with me, and aren't just being polite or putting up with my presence to spend time with mutual friends. I'm also very competive. Pop psychology in me, suspects it's part of being an identical twin. One of a set. Leading to a subconscious drive to stand out. Who knows? It's not I trait I admire in others.
I think I understand Fancy here. It's not that he feels unworthy.
It's that he has a live magic reader that tells him if he is worthy. Without bias or ego. He always knows the optimal path. Which means he knows whenever and whoever someone strays from that path.
If he were to place too much stock in his gift, as I suspect he does, then he is literally carrying the weight of the world of his shoulders.
Fancys inner monologue is interesting, because it doesn't come from a place of *worthlessness*, but from a desire to optimize. It's not that he thinks they couldn't be happy together at all. But if his mark tells him she will be a *smidgen* happier with someone else, he is duty bound to make that happen. I think people are misinterpreting that he thinks he doesnt deserve to be happy. I dont think thats quite it. It's not about what he deserves. It's that he can see or thinks he can see the idealised perfect life for viynl. The max high score. If he isn't in that, it's not that he is sitting there wondering why not, feeling sorry for himself. He simply sees it as a moral obligation to ensure Viynl is as happy *as possible.* If that means being with someone other than him,then great! He can't divert that Destiny so that he can share in that happiness, because he will always feel like he stole that happiness from Viynl. That there was a method or pathway or scheme or route that was even better and he denied her that for he sake of his own happiness.
There's a saying "stop worring about what might have been."
Sure, if you'd gone on that date last Thursday you *might* have the love of your life. But it might have been a wash. Hell you might see his Facebook the news two years from now and realise he was a serial kiler. Do not worry about what might have been.
Fancy's issues seem to stem from the fact that he knows. Or thinks he does at any rate. He knows he best move. And if his mark is telling him Vinyls best move isn't with him, then that's the end of it. They way he sees it, the notion that Viynl is better off with someone else, isn't an opinion to be swayed by untrustworthy Emotions and biased judgements like what he happens to think of himself - for better or worse. His mark will tell him. Free of bias or ego. Just a fact of the universe. Anyone who tells him otherwise is very sweet and kind of them to think so. But he has a mark that tells him.
Fancy's problem is that he has never truly had to make a choice. To risk something. Her knows in advance whether it's the absolute truth. If he ties his sense of right and wrong to achieving the optimal path, as it appears he has done so, then he is blessed and cursed with the knowledge of absolute morality. A cheat sheet telling him the "best" outcome. Whenever that doesn't happen, he doesn't have the luxury of "not knowing the road not taken". Because he does know. All the time.
In a real sense, Fancy might have the key to Utopia somewhere in his head. If he could be in all places at once, and control all actions, then he could plot a course to a perfect world. Or if not a paradise, then as close as one can get.
Which - in his eyes - makes him partly responsible for every piece of suffering on Equis.
Thanks for the update! I cannot wait to see what vynil comes up with
11598770
Love to see such a thorough breakdown of a character. I will not confirm or deny how right or wrong you are, but very insightful! Since it's been a while and folks are eating a breathing with this story in their head constantly, I'll throw in a quote that might help with some context here from a long time ago.
Princess Luna, Chapter 16:
“Be it true foresight into one of the many futures before us or predictive creative thinking, it matters not. You may be invested in the outcomes, and you may have been able to use your talent to make more informed decisions, but it is never truly about you. You can only help others achieve a potential future, hence the title ‘fateweaver’. When you become too entangled in the outcome, you can only use your natural gifts to practice an encounter with your best laid plan, as anypony would. In your case, you may do so with a little more interactive insight, but it is no better than strategizing before a battle. You still must engage in the war.
“From my many years of mentoring fateweavers, it is a small mercy that fate grants in blinding you in such a manner. What a terrible tragedy it would be to enslave yourself to live a predicted path or even glimpse your own death.”
11598998
It's some excellent advice. But I'm not entirely certain Fancy has taken it on-board. At least not yet. He knows better than try to use his gift to... I don't know. Alter Equestrian civilization. But I don't think he has grasped that something as subjective and ephemeral as "Happiness", is just as convoluted and complicated. Being told by Luna is one thing. Accepting it is another. But
My guess is that Fancy - willingly or not, and consciously or not - has glimpsed **A** future. One that is acceptable. If he deviates from that future, he might get something better. But he might get something worse. I think he has come to rely on his mark so much, he cannot bring himself to act against it. It sinks only reassurance that some calamity won't strike him. He has had losses, made sacrifices, and given up on much. Presumably the glipse of the future offers a light and the end of tunnel. A promise of a reward. Diverge from that path, and who knows what he ends up with.
I think Fancy has a fear of the unknown. A fear of letting go of fate. Luna 's advice: that h has never really had that much control, and even he did, it would be a curse more than gift, may have fallen on dead ears.
I think Lunas warning is some thing Fancy knows intellectually, but isn't yet something he is acting upon. It must be the ultimate comfort. To glimpse the timelines known that in all the multiverse, you helped someone pick the best of all futures. Free of regret, guilt And shame. Diverting from that means making a *mistake*.
I rather suspect he is falling into a classic three body problem. If you have a particle and you know it's starting velocity and position, you can calculate precisely where it will be at any given time in the future.
With a two body problem, Newtons laws allow you to calculate precisely where that will end up and how it will interact with another particle. Like a planet affected by a star's gravitational field. The maths are seamless.
But introduce a third particle, and it will act upon the other two, altering its paths and introducing complete and total chaos into the system. No general solution exists. The problem is famous for being worked on with little success by Newton, and his contemporaries .The orbits are non-repeating. There are a few classes of special solutions - the largest batch of which was discovered via super computer as recently as 2017.
Just the presence of *One* additional factor, in the single most basic system it is possible to conceive Renders the solution incomprehensible.
I rather suspect his gift is unreliable here, because he is the third body. And unlike with others where he can divine the future and ascertain the best cause of action, he is a part of the future he is trying to divine. Any act he might take, including the use of gift, impacts the future his gift would show.
And that is assuming a clear vision, and not a vague glimpse that may not be true fortelling but mere instinct.
I just wanna smack 'em both. So hard. Repeatedly.
11602112
Please reserve your strikes for later.
Ah, I remember this one. I marveled at his denseness then, and I do so now. Or perhaps density isn't the right term. Stubborn attachment to a dream that isn't viable and hasn't been for quite some time indeed. More accurate that, if considerably more wordy.
11853918
At this point, it isn't density, but rather what I'd call fearful denial. He's still attached to the safety of predictability here, but it's moving beyond the realm of sympathetic to pitiful for the reader. I tried to make the feeling worse by giving him a few good arguments to stand on, but mired them in wrongheaded reasoning.