Chapter Text
There's a friendly desert community, where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful and mysterious lights pass overhead while its citizens pretend to sleep.
Welcome to Night Vale.
“Hello listeners” -a familiar voice comes on the radio- “Leann Hart, publishing editor of the Night Vale Daily Journal, announced tomorrow that he would release his first original book: Is that a mango? No, that's not a mango. Don't touch the mango. It is a heartbreaking story about how the industrial revolution destroyed the concept of time travel. Wow Leann, that's extremely brave of you! So if you like historically accurate comedies go to your bathroom with a candle, put your head on the toilet and wait for the sunrise. Good luck Leann!”
There was the creaking of a chair and the sound of rustling papers.
“Hey listeners, remember my perfect husband Carlos? Of course you remember our hero. Well, he has invited some affiliates of the University of What It Is to stay in our house for a couple of weeks, and I hope they won't scare our um...our dog!” . They are apparently investigating something called “The fears”? Uh. That's kind of weird. Do they mean the kind of dread we all feel when we see those destroyed plushies from our childhood? We know that perfectly! There's no need to study that. However, if they are Carlos' friends they must be kind and interesting people, so I ask all of you to treat them nicely.
The voice went on on something about the librarians or something regarding it. At least he mentioned them. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe someone just imagined.
“Oh listeners! Remember Carlos' friends? They have arrived into town! One of them is bigger than the other, though it seems the other is just short. The short one is talking into a... tape recorder? Yep, that's a tape recorder! I feel… I feel there's something weird about them, mostly about the sh- Oh? Oh! Apparently the short man… looked into my eye. That's unsettling... I apologize listeners, I shouldn't be talking like that about our guests, but there's something weirdly familiar about these strangers. While I figure out what it is I take you now to the weather.”
Ghosting by Mother Mother starts playing. The whole town listens to it. What is this going to mean for our lovely town? Is this going to bring us more danger? Should we keep the strangers out? Are they even strangers? Why do they fit so well with us? Before anyone noticed the weather had already passed.
“Listeners, I have great news. Guess who called into our station.~”
“Hello Cecil.” -a small chuckle came through the radio. It was a different voice, and a perfect one.- “I was calling to tell you that our guests have totally made it home alive and fine. Thank you for telling people not to attack them love”
“Aw, no problem hon. Mind telling our listeners what these strangers are going to do in our little town?”
“Oh, sure! They are archivists from the Magnus Institute. Their names are Jon and Martin-”
“Jon is the short one, right? With the tape recorder?”
“Well yes. Wait, how do you know? Have you talked to them?”
“Not yet! Looking forward to it. So, what were you saying?”
“Oh, right! See, I know I told you I understood that Night Vale was just weird and that some things are not logical but they are investigating the hypothesis that maybe the citizens of Night Vale are just people who live comfortably with these identities that they call “fears”. It could explain so much. I'm sure they will be willing to explain it in more detail when you come home.”
“How sweet of them!”
“Yeah. By the way should I do paella or fried rice for dinner?”
“Whatever you want the most babe, you have worked so hard today.”
“Aw thank you kitty. I should leave you now, I don't want to anger station management. Again.”
“Alright Carlos, I love you”
“I love you too. Bye!” -the sound of a phone hanging up could be heard, and then an affectionate sigh.
“Isn't he perfect listeners? He is one of the greatest people in the world, I am so lucky to have such an amazing husband. And he is so intelligent. Have you heard about his friends? What even is an archivist? I may not know what an archivist is, nor what the “fears” are, or what they plan to do in our town. But I do know that they should be welcome in our friendly little town. And maybe they will explain things about our town that we would have never known. We would have lived them, sure, but we would have never truly understood them.
Stay tuned next for the strange sensation of falling through the open air while you are sleep
Good night, Night Vale.
Good night.”