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It was by far the most scientifically interesting place Carlos had ever witnessed in his entire life.
Ever, and that was saying something.
Carlos had taken a leave of absence from teaching at the University of Arizona, recruited eight of his grad students and driven across the parched desert tundra into New Mexico during the sweltering heat of July. He hadn’t known what to expect but it definitely wasn’t this.
NIGHT VALE CITY LIMITS, read the sign before them. And under that, another that said POPULATION: змеиные люди AND ½. Carlos couldn’t read Russian, and had no idea what that might mean or what exactly ½ a person could entail. His grad students had gotten out of the car and were posing underneath the sign and taking photos, so Carlos dragged his Very Important Science Bag from the car and pulled out an intricate, flashing device and began running tests. It grew warm in Carlos’s palm and began whirring and emitting a harsh, grating sound.
“Radioactivity?” Carlos said to himself, surprised.
He held the device out from his chest and swung it around in a slow circle. Pointed back down the way they had come, the beeping slowed. Pointed farther down the road toward Night Vale it grew louder and more erratic, and some unknown force seemed to be pulling Carlos in that direction. He swung his Very Important Science Bag over one shoulder and trekked the last ten yards up the paved desert hill until he had reached the top. Dry, hot wind whipped his lab coat out behind him and pushed his dark hair back from his forehead.
A few yellow clouds dotted the distant horizon, and the sun hung like a great pale eye over a subdued mountain range. To Carlos’s right, old power lines descended into the valley beneath. Some broken cords fizzled and swayed in the wind, and yet the city below was lit with power. And a city it was, nearly submerged in the desert and the sand wastes. Nearest Carlos at the bottom of the large hill was a trailer park; in the distance, a tower with a red light blinking on and off, nearly indistinguishable from the eternity of sand behind it. The town sprawled outward, not upward, until it ended in an industrialized area puffing smoke with a vaguely purple hue into the atmosphere.
Carlos stood triumphantly at the top of the hill, and a feeling of happiness swelled like a balloon ready to burst somewhere between his ribs. At last, at last, he had found whatever Night Vale was.
He turned around and strode quickly back to his car. “Everyone back in!” he called, and his grad students-- his pioneering team of scientists-- rushed back to the car.
Carlos, eager to discover what awaited ahead, was about to sit back down in the driver's seat when he saw it: a black car, a set of headlights, off in the distance back the way they had come. Carlos squinted, his brow furrowed, and experienced an inexplicable yet distinct feeling of uneasiness. It was the only other car for miles.
He gave himself a mental shake and clambered the rest of the way into his car, turned the key in the ignition, and guided his four-door back onto the dusty road. It took them no time to reach the top of the hill, and his team of scientists called out in glee as Night Vale became visible below them. Some of them snapped photos out the windows. Carlos began the descent without pomp or circumstance, and glanced uneasily over his shoulder. The car behind them was no longer visible beyond the hill.
Uneasiness momentarily past, Carlos smiled as they coasted down into the city.
“Alright, guys,” Carlos said, addressing his team of scientists but keeping both eyes on the road. “Can someone navigate me to the lab?”
“I’ve got it,” Rachelle said, who was sitting in the passenger seat and typing furiously on her cell phone. “What’s the address?”
“89382 Earl Street,” Carlos told her slowly, “in the… science district?”
Rachelle looked at Carlos blankly. “The what? They have a science district? ”
“I guess so.”
“Awe man, this place is so cool!” Stan said from the back, kicking Rachelle’s seat.
“Yeah, how is a nerd like you ever going to fit in?” Rachelle asked him.
“What the hell,” he said. Carlos thought that maybe Rachelle’s teasing had finally gone too far, but then realized that Stan wasn’t talking about Rachelle. Carlos looked out Rachelle’s window and saw a man, ghastly pale with a gaping mouth, shaking a cactus in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other at their car as they drove by.
A beat. “That was weird,” Carlos said aptly. The grad students laughed uneasily.
Carlos slowed the car as they sped down into the town. The car was quiet as it’s occupants took everything in. They passed a small victorian home that seemed to be glowing with ethereal light, a car lot full of salespeople but no customers, a regular Ralph’s grocery store, and a new-looking housing development. At least, Carlos thought it was a housing development full of normal houses, but something about it he couldn’t place seemed strange. He made a mental note to look into it later.
“We’ll have to investigate that later,” Stan said echoing his thoughts, pointing at one of the empty houses.
Carlos came to a red light. “Where now?”
Rachelle directed him past an overbearing obsidian wall that was at least fifteen feet tall. At the street corner, a sign marked it DOG PARK, and then underneath that, NO DOGS ALLOWED. A hooded figure, completely cloaked in black from head to toe, hovered just outside the wall.
Carlos tore his gaze away to focus on the road. He felt giddy, exhilarated and nervous. There was so much he would need to document.
“Turn right here,” Rachelle directed.
Carlos turned right on Earl Street and glanced back over his shoulder as they sped away from the dog park. The wall seem to fence the entire block behind them.
They passed an Arby’s, and everyone sitting outside at the plastic tables stared openly at them as drove past.
In fact, everywhere they went, the townspeople seemed to drop whatever they were doing to gape at them. One man even popped out a headphone as if to focus more fully on Carlos’ car. Carlos felt as if he had just been ushered, unprepared, onstage.
For something to do, or perhaps because it felt like the right thing to do, he reached over his dashboard and flipped on the radio.
A deep voice resonated from the speakers, speaking slowly and calmly.
Old Woman Josie, out near the Car Lot, says the Angels revealed themselves to her, said the voice on the radio.
“What?” Rachelle exclaimed, staring at the radio as if it had grown a head. The others in the backseat made similar sounds of surprise.
...they were ten feet tall, radiant, and one of them was black. Said they helped her with various household chores. One of them changed a lightbulb for her-- the porch light, the voice continued matter-of-factly in that same slow, calm voice.
“ What is this? Some kind of joke show?” Nilanjana asked, piping up from the back seat.
“Oh, it must be,” Rachelle said, sounding almost relieved. Carlos shushed them and turned up the volume.
She’s offering to sell the old light bulb, which has been touched by an Angel. It was the black Angel, if that sweetens the pot for anyone. If you’re interested, contact Old Woman Josie. She’s out near the Car Lot.
“Wait!” Stan shouted. “We drove past there! It was next to that weird glowing house!”
“Weird,” Carlos said. “Weird” had definitely become the word of the hour. But then they pulled up at the lab and he shut off the car.
There was a man, who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, waiting for them outside the lab.
“Are you Mr. Godfrey? I believe we spoke on the phone.” Carlos asked him, extending his hand.
“Call me Jeremy!” He said, and nothing else. He took Carlos’ hand and shook it.
“Do I need to sign anything?” Carlos prompted.
“Nope! I’ve got the keys for you right here!” Jeremy handed him a single key. Carlos took it; it was large, silver, rusted, and clearly very old.
“Thanks,” Carlos said, and tried to brush past Jeremy toward the large white building that was to become Carlos’ home and workspace. Jeremy let him pass, but then called out jovially:
“So, what is it you are exactly doing here?”
Carlos turned to face him again. His grad students stood behind Jeremy, only half out of the car, watching Carlos expectantly. Jeremy was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands deep in his pockets.
“Science,” Carlos told him. “I’m a scientist.”
***
The staring didn’t stop. Later, when most of the grad students had gone next door to a place called Big Rico’s Pizza, Carlos thought he may have even seen someone peering through the window of his lab.
The radio was on again. There seemed to be a radio in every room of the science lab.
A new man came into town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? the voice was saying.
Carlos stiffened and turned to look at the radio, not believing what he was hearing.
Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist. Well… we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives.
Rachelle looked up from her microscope. “Who is this guy?”
But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting– the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza?
“Holy crap, how does he know?” Rachelle said, but then shook her head and continued with her work.
It was then that Carlos decided he’d have to make some sort of announcement to the town, call a town meeting perhaps. And investigate that radio tower.
That’s how Carlos found himself, an hour later, standing in front of thirty or so townspeople and members of the press sitting in folding chairs and looking right at him. An old woman named Josie, who must be the “Old Woman Josie” the radio man had referred to, had even brought home-baked corn muffins.
(Which were okay, but Carlos thought they needed a little more salt).
“This is by far the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S., and I have come to study just what is going on around here.” Carlos grinned, trying to appear sure of himself.
Two men and a woman wearing nondescript business suits and grim expressions stood stone faced and silent in the back of the room, watching. Carlos thought they looked official and important, but was much too intimidated to speak with them or even ask about them. The townspeople milled around freely after his talk but gave the imposing figures a wide berth. Carlos took the hint.
Old Woman Josie stood next to her display of corn muffins, talking amicably with everyone. As people filed out, she greeted each person by name.
Carlos wasn’t sure what to call her. No one had mentioned a last name. “Josie, hello, I’m Carlos,” he decided to go with, and held out his hand.
“Carlos,” Old Woman Josie said warmly, like she had known him for years and was happy to see him. She took his hand in both of hers. “Call me Old Woman Josie, everyone else sure does!” Her eyes were laughing and she smiled up into Carlos’ face.
“Oh, alright,” Carlos said, startled.
“My dear,” Josie began. (Carlos loved that, being called dear by an old woman he had just met. It felt like a good sign). “I have been expecting that you will come speak with me. It is why I came here today, to hear you speak.”
Carlos had no idea what to say, or what to think of Josie already expecting him to come to her when he had only been in Night Vale for a few hours. “Can I ask you a question, then?”
She smiled mischievously. “Of course! You may even ask me another question.”
“I keep hearing bits and pieces of this radio show--”
“You haven’t been listening to the whole thing?”
“No,” Carlos said. “I’ve been busy--”
“Oh dear,” Old Woman Josie. “Oh dear. No, of course you haven’t heard what he’s just said about you.”
“What? Who has said what about me?” Carlos asked, beginning to feel lost. Everything in this town turned up, like, a bajillion new questions.
Old Woman Josie smiled patiently. “Our community radio show host, Cecil. Great old friend of mine, we go way back. We used to go see the Opera, but at least we still do bowling nights. Everyone listens to his show. I mean everyone. His show is one of the most important things to this town.” Josie must have noticed Carlos’ helpless expression, because she smiled knowingly at him again. “Go to the radio station. And listen to his show on the way there, it’s still on.”
Carlos thanked her, regaining some of his composure. He hurried to his car, intending to take Josie’s advice. He flipped on the radio, but the station that had previously been the enigmatic show was playing music.
Carlos reached the radio station with the tower and the red light blinking on and off. He parked his car and went in through a set of heavy double doors, taking one of his intricate whirring devices with him for show.
Inside, the station was completely empty and silent except for a strange whirring, mechanical sound. Carlos walked down a long, dimly lit hallway, peering around for signs of life.
“Hello?” he called.
Perhaps Cecil’s show had ended and everyone had gone home for the day.
As if in response to his call, the mechanical whirring sound grew louder. Carlos followed it toward a door labeled STATION MANAGEMENT and was about to knock when suddenly someone grabbed his arm from behind.
Carlos jumped a mile, spun around, and came face-to-face with a young man wearing a T-shirt with Night Vale Community Radio stamped across the front. The silent young man shook his head rapidly and raised his free hand in a shushing motion to his lips. He tiptoed across the hall to another unmarked door, dragged Carlos with him, and pulled them both inside. He shut the door softly behind them.
“Never disturb station management,” said the young man, and let go of Carlos’ arm.
“Chad? Is that you?” said that same deep and resonate voice, muffled from inside the recording booth. The booth had a large frosted glass window, and Carlos could see an indistinct figure of a man inside.
“It’s me,” Chad stage-whispered back. “There’s someone here to see you,” and then, to Carlos, said “go on in. He’s been wanting to talk to you.”
“Thanks,” Carlos said, perplexed, and opened the booth door.
Carlos stopped in the doorway, still holding his intricate whirring device aloft.
The man before him was not tall or short, fat or thin. He sat in an ancient chair, surrounded by what looked like some of the oldest radio technology Carlos had ever seen. Carlos and the man looked right at each other, and Carlos felt his gaze on his face like physical heat. Carlos also felt like all the oxygen in the room had suddenly vanished. His whirring device began furiously beeping and whistling.
“Welcome, I’m Cecil Palmer, but I already know who you are, Carlos,” The man said gleefully, completely unfazed by the device. “Come in, the weather is almost over! Would you consent to an interview?”
“Not today, I’m here testing for… materials,” Carlos blurted. He stepped over the threshold and waved the device around, feeling foolish but hoping he came across as sophisticated. He stepped toward Cecil's microphone with it, looking at Cecil and trying to act like he wasn't looking at Cecil.
Cecil Palmer wasn’t young or old, either. His most remarkable features were the complex purple tattoos that weaved and tangled together up his forearms, taking the shapes of tentacles and rune-like symbols Carlos couldn’t recognize. Cecil was watching Carlos wave his device around the microphone, and Carlos saw that he had a third eye drawn on his forehead.
And yet despite his otherwise unassuming appearance Cecil was difficult to look at directly for long, like he was a light turned up a bit too bright.
Carlos was having a hard time looking anywhere else.
Carlos’ device was really beeping a lot.
“This is bad. You need to evacuate this building right now,” Carlos said, waving the device emphatically and moving back toward the door.
“That’s alright,” Cecil said, perfectly agreeable, and made no move to leave. “Thanks for visiting! The weather is almost over.”
Carlos had no idea what that was supposed to mean. There was so much else he wanted to say, and to ask, but instead he thanked Cecil and fled.
Outside again, the sky was a vibrant mural of oranges, pinks, and blues; the sun was finally setting. Carlos stood in the parking lot, feeling perplexed and completely overwhelmed by Night Vale. He had caught wind of a small town deep in the desert where all the weird things happen, but this was a lot weirder than he expected. He looked down at his watch. The sun had not set at the time it was supposed to set.
It didn’t make any sense.
In his car, Carlos headed back to his lab and turned on the radio.
Carlos, perfect and beautiful, came into our studios during the break earlier but declined to stay for an interview, said Cecil.
Carlos’ heart jumped to his throat and he nearly ran the car off the road.
He had some sort of blinking box in his hand covered with wires and tubes. Said he was testing the place for “materials.”
I don’t know what materials he meant but that box sure whistled and beeped a lot. When he put it close to the microphone it sounded like, well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up.
Really went crazy.
Carlos looked nervous. I’ve never seen that kind of look on someone with that strong of a jaw. He left in a hurry. Told us to evacuate the building. But then, who would be here to talk sweetly to all of you out there?
No, Carlos thought, as he pulled into the parking lot of his new lab, his new home. I am here for science. I cannot engage in this.
Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, good memories of when you did.
It truly was a pretty evening, here in Night Vale. Carlos looked up and could see way more stars than he thought should be there. He could hear the mournful howl of a distant train, but didn’t remember having seen any tracks in town. He sighed deeply and let his head fall to rest on the steering wheel.
Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.