Chapter Text
“…I…who are you?”
And he turned to me as I piped up and asked the question, somehow, I can comprehend his fractal-ridden, golden-curled mess of a form. Somehow, he didn’t give me a headache.
“Ohh…meeee~?” He responded, his form shifting, always shifting. “I am Michael, but also not Michael…I am the Throat of Delusion Incarnate, Es Mentiras, The Distortion. But you can call me Michael, I assume, if that’s what your fickle mind wants to...attempt to perceive what I might be.”
And even though his answer seemed strange to me, and he often took pauses in odd places, I welcomed him anyway, as a proper man of the community radio.
“Oh! Well,” I answered, shaking what seemed to be a hand with very, very long fingers, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Distortion! I am Cecil Gershwin Palmer, the Voice of Night Vale. What are you doing here in this, er, section of Night Vale?”
He chuckled with an eerie laugh that sent a small chill down my spine, but I remained just fine.
“Ohh, nothing…just checking up on you, Cecil…the Archives was considering tuning in to this radio station, even though you’re allllll across the sea…so I figured I’d drop by, and on behalf of The Magnus Institute, London…welcome. :)”
And I was just about to leave Michael Distortion, but Intern Dana, or her double, spoke before I could turn around.
"Hey, Cecil, you should ask Michael Distortion if you can bring Carlos along!"
I took a long, long pause, blushing in many, many colors and shades, several of which can't be seen by human eyes. Michael teased me lightly about the blushing, but he said I could bring Carlos along to the Institute, to hopefully get an interview with everyone inside. Plus, it would be a lovely date opportunity, and even though I would have to discuss my leave with station management, it would be worth it for Carlos. It's always worth it for Carlos, especially after finding out he's been searching for me.
"Okay," I responded like a being whose hands aren't shaking and whose pulse isn't quickened with love, "let's get out of the forbidden dog park we do not recognize and do not acknowledge."
A hooded figure waved goodbye as Michael offered to take me through a special, convoluted, and insanity-laced yellow doorway, saying it was a shortcut, and it would take me directly to station management so that I could announce my return, and right after, my temporary leave from our beloved Night Vale. Since Dana, or her other self, said that my car had crashed in the dog park, and yet I had received no injuries due to my eldritch nature, the strange yet inviting door was the only way, unless I wanted to walk back through the entire desert, which would be tiring, painful, and grueling.
So, I walked through the door and navigated the halls smoothly, knowing exactly which halls to go through, which doors to open, and which corners to turn, much to Michael's surprise. Eventually, I went through the correct door and found the community radio station again, and was met by many, many people, all of whom gave high-pitched chantings upon my arrival. I entered the building, feeling the air rush in, and wrote a letter to station management, slipping it under the door and praying to the glow cloud, all hail.
I, Michael, and Intern Dana, or what seems to be Dana, all patiently waited for a response, the cool air palpable.
I also heard Carlos outside the station, and I promptly let him in, giving him a quick smooch on the cheek and explaining my situation. He was very thrilled to see me again after my absence, and even more thrilled about the possible trip to the Institute, rambling excitedly on and on about various science theories. He hugged me quite close, and then, finally, a response from station management was slipped under the door. I picked up the letter and opened it with care, and found it said...
"Extended leave to The Magnus Institute...granted. -Management"