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CECIL: Any window with a hammer is also an emergency exit. Eyes are windows to the soul. Shatter your eyes and let your soul be free. Welcome to Night Vale.
Hello listeners. As many of you will already know from the previous broadcast that I’m sure each and every one of you listened to, Night Vale has been playing host to a group of strange individuals for the past week. Their clothing and weapons are utterly alien to us, but they don’t appear to be intent on doing us harm, or, at least, they appear to have gotten bored of doing us harm and moved onto more interesting ventures. Indeed, most of what they have been doing for the last week is setting up a stage in Mission Grove Park that appears to be meant for some kind of musical performance. I admit that this is speculation, and based purely on the word of the flyers spread around town.
These flyers denote the stage as the venue for a musical performance by “The Mechanisms'' and promise a grand musical evening of fun, violence, adventure, violence...violence.
I didn’t add that ellipses by the way, that was on the flyer.
Tickets apparently cost nothing except, and I quote from the flyer directly in front of me right now, “whatever the octokittens, Toy Soldier, or Raphaella decide to take”. Sounds like a bargain to me.
In order to find out more about this stage, I have sent our new Night Vale Community radio intern to investigate anything about this stage that can be found out. I will report back when the intern reports back.
Moving onto our top story today, the Sheriff’s Secret Police are asking Night Vale citizens for any information regarding a particular individual who has been seen around Night Vale breaking laws. When asked by journalists why this individual may have been breaking laws and what laws he was breaking, the representative of the secret police shrunk into their clothes. Literally, their body became significantly smaller over a very short period of time, and within seconds was hidden entirely in their clothes, which didn’t fall to the ground but hung there as they were when being worn, in blatant defiance of gravity. I’m sure this trick was meant to be impressive, but at a certain stage it’s just showing off things anyone can do. Gravity is hardly binding to anyone, let’s be honest listeners. I’m not sure what this show of very basic tricks was meant to be.
Still, citizens are advised to report any sightings of this strange man. He was last seen wearing distinctive goggles and a bandolier, and seen sitting on a park bench eating wheat and wheat by-products. Not even anything made out of wheat or wheat by-products. He was apparently just eating strands of wheat and offering some to any passersby who approached. Why the Secret Police can’t find him if he is sitting on a park bench is beyond me, but it is also beyond me to question the methods of the Sheriff’s Secret Police. As we will all be aware, wheat and wheat by-products have been illegal in Night Vale for as long as any of us can remember. Citizens are reminded that this man is considered dangerous, as he has been seen breaking several other laws before. In fact, he has been seen doing nothing but breaking as many laws as possible since he arrived in Night Vale, it seems. Since this man is considered highly dangerous, if citizens see him, they are advised to run directly at him, waving their arms around wildly and screaming “That’s illegal! That’s illegal!” at the top of their lungs, in order to covertly signal the Secret Police to come and pick him up. More on this story as it develops.
In other news, a somewhat metallic looking man has spent the past few days standing outside City Hall giving prophecies. He is, in fact, rather insistent that they are prophecies, even though these predictions appear to be entirely mundane in nature. These prophecies appear to come true the vast majority of the time, helped by the fact that many of them have already come true as the prophecies seem to have no particular time attached to them. For example, Old Woman Josie reported that she received a prophecy that she would try to buy milk, but the store would be out, and refused to give any more details than that. Josie reportedly asked him if he meant the time last week that she tried to buy milk and was unable to get any, or whether it would happen in the future and lead to a devastating and life-ruining lack of milk, but was unable to get any more details about the prediction. Apparently he has also told multiple citizens that the town will be besieged by an evil corporation and that they will have to fight to keep their way of life. While I don’t know what kind of timeframe he is talking about, he did mention that the corporation was called...I can’t quite remember...Strex, was it? Which sounds familiar, kind of like that evil Strex corporation that tried to take over our town and we spent the best part of a year rebelling against it. That was a couple of years ago, I think? I can’t quite remember, but I’m sure the similarity is just a coincidence. Nevertheless, be on the lookout for evil corporations trying to take over our beloved Night Vale, citizens. Just in case.
Carlos also told me that he had received a prediction from this man, that he would end up trapped in a desert otherworld for much of a year and would go through all kinds of hardships trying to find his way back. I can’t help but think this would have been nice to know before it happened, since we all very clearly remember that happening. Why, it seems like only yesterday that he was first trapped in the otherworld, unable to come and visit. Oh, those nights were long without him, as I’m sure you’ll all agree. Living a Carlos-less life was difficult for all of us, but especially for me considering that he’s my boyfriend and all.
Oh, speaking of Carlos, I just remembered, I got a voicemail from him just before the show started. I should check that.
[CECIL RETRIEVES HIS PHONE FROM HIS POCKET]
Let’s see here...oh, that’s strange, the voicemail seems to have deleted itself. But that’s only supposed to happen on days of the week ending in the letter “y”, and we haven’t had one of those since last Tuesday. Hmm, I’ll have to examine this later. Oh, but what if it was urgent, something that really can’t wait? I should call him, right? No, I can’t do that, that would be unprofessional of me to do on the air. You’re right.
…
…
Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me, I’ll call him.
[CECIL TYPES IN A PHONE NUMBER. THE PHONE RINGS FOR A FEW SECONDS]
CARLOS: Hello?
CECIL: Hello? Carlos?
CARLOS: Cecil, hi! What’s the call for? Aren’t you on the air?
CECIL: Well, technically yes, but my listeners convinced me to call you about your voicemail. They do so love hearing about the two of us. Probably.
CARLOS: My voicemail? What about it?
CECIL: Oh right, yes, it deleted itself so I never got to hear it.
CARLOS: But it’s not a day in the week ending in “Y”.
CECIL: I know, right? So weird! Anyway, what was the voicemail about? Something important?
CARLOS: Oh, just letting you know that I might be late home tonight. I’m very busy with an experiment. You know, science.
CECIL: Oh? What kind of science?
CARLOS: Well, a woman with these lovely wings approached me and asked me if she could use my lab to examine the genetic structure of something she brought with her. As a fellow scientist I saw nothing wrong with this and asked if I could join her, and she didn’t say no, so I joined her. It’s taking a bit longer...well, a lot longer than I thought it would. The genetic structure of this sample keeps changing. And I don’t mean like how a normal person’s genetic structure changes, you know, how our DNA is never the same one minute to the next. No, this sample appears to be, like, a plant? But also a rock? But also maybe three different kinds of animal. And that was only the last time I looked, it keeps changing to being all sorts of things.
CECIL: How did you get this sample? Where did it come from?
CARLOS: That’s a very good question. [TURNS AWAY FROM PHONE] Hey, how did you get this? ...okay, thanks! [TURNS BACK TO PHONE] Apparently it came from one of the hooded figures you see around the dog park?
CECIL: As in, it was given to this fellow scientist by a hooded figure?
CARLOS: [TURNS AWAY FROM PHONE] Do you mean it was given to you by a hooded figure? ...oh...oh right...yes, okay, that makes sense! [TURNS BACK TO PHONE] No, she apparently took it from a hooded figure. As in, cut it off. With a knife. Apparently it took a while.
CECIL: Carlos, are you...are you examining the remains of a hooded figure?
CARLOS: I think so, yeah!
CECIL: Are you sure that’s safe?
CARLOS: Nope! But what is science if not ignoring safety regulations and doing dangerous and unethical experiments for the sake of finding out things you never needed to know?
CECIL: Well, I’ll take your word for it, you’re the scientist.
CARLOS: Well, I can confirm that that’s definitely what science is. Anyway, I need to get back to this, so I’ll see you later.
CECIL: Oh, before you go Carlos, did you want to go to that performance together this evening?
CARLOS: Oh, that one on the flyers around town? I’d love to, Cecil! Apparently tickets don’t cost a lot, the flyers just say “whatever the octokittens, Toy Soldier and Raphaella decide they want.” Hmm? [TURNS AWAY FROM PHONE] What’s that? ...oh, wow, really? ...oh, well, okay then. Shouldn’t be a problem anyway. [TURNS BACK TO PHONE] According to my fellow scientist, “whatever the octokittens, Toy Soldier and Raphaella decide they want '' normally means a few skeletons picked from random members of the crowd, but that’s okay. She assures me it’s worth the chance, and besides, it’s not as if we don’t have spare skeletons just hanging up in the closet waiting for a chance to be used. So yes, let’s go to the performance together later, it sounds lovely. See you then! I love you, Cecil.
CECIL: I love you too, Carlos. See you tonight!
[PHONE BEEPS, CALL ENDS]
Well, that sounds like it will be a fun evening, and maybe we’ll have an excuse to clean out the closets we all left so long ago, and have let get dusty and filled with things we convince ourselves we’ll need one day, but never actually do. It’s a bad habit, I know, but one that we all tend to get lost in.
This just in, the lawbreaker - the one that has been going around town breaking laws for no apparent reason other than to break as many laws as he can - was seen entering the dog park by a concerned citizen approximately an hour ago. Citizens are reminded that dogs are not allowed in the dog park. People are not allowed in the dog park. Do not look at the dog park. The fact that this man has gone into the dog park is a grave violation of the rules of the dog park, but given the fact that people very rarely emerge from the dog park, and always from a different entrance and several months to years later, I think we can put this matter to rest. As much as it is a shame that he was not caught by the Sheriff’s Secret Police, and that we never did find out why he was doing what he was doing, how he got away with it for so long, or what wheat and wheat by-products really taste like, I think we can all agree that-
Wait a second, listeners, I’m hearing from another concerned citizen that he has been seen - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - leaving the dog park. From the same entrance he entered. Apparently none the worse for wear and looking disappointed. I’m not sure what this means, listeners, but I can assure you that I will not rest until I discover the meaning behind these even-oh?
Oh, our newest intern is back. What was I saying? Ah, nevermind, I doubt it was important.
So, the stage, what did you find out about it?
It’s a stage. Well, yes, we knew that, anything else?
It’s meant for a musical performance. Right. Okay. That’s...helpful, I suppose, now we have a second opinion. Still, thank you, intern...oh, I don’t think I actually got your name. Nor do I recall ever actually hiring you, you just turned up in the studio and started doing what I asked you to do, a couple of days after Intern Reyni only slightly involuntarily gave up xyr mind to refuel the prompter that transmits our paid advertisements into my head so I know what to say. Oh, on that note.
To the family and friends of Intern Reyni, xe gave up xyr mind to refuel the prompter that transmits our paid advertisements into my head so I know what to say. We are very sorry for the loss. Reyni was an excellent Intern, and xe will be forever in our thoughts. Literally.
Anyway, now that we’ve got that out of the way, where were we? Oh yeah, your name, what was it? You don’t have one? Okay, well, I can’t just call you Intern, that would be rude and very impersonal, and we value our interns very highly here at Night Vale Community Radio. You have to have a name. You really don’t? Well, okay, I’ll give you one I guess. I mean, you always do exactly as I say, to the letter. Your uniform looks very much like a regimental uniform. And, pardon me saying, you have a slightly wooden look to you? Something puts me in mind of those figures that...Steve Carlsberg...insists on collecting and displaying even though that space in his house could be much better utilised for a blood stone circle. But yes, something about you very much reminds me of those toy soldiers that I see around. So I think I’ll call you...Wooden Infantryman. Yes. Yes, that feels right.
So, Wooden Infantryman, now that we have that established, can you, ummmmmm… go back to the stage? I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s the most important thing that’s happening around Night Vale right now. Yes, go back to the stage and call back to me if something starts happening. I suppose there’s not really much to do besides wait for this performance to start. Thank you, Intern Wooden Infantryman.
So, now that we’ve dealt with that, and while we’re on the subject, a word from our sponsors.
Today’s sponsor is Poseidon Industries. The Eye of the Cyclops. The largest perfect diamond on the planet. It used to belong to us. It should belong to us. It must belong to us again. We know where it is. We know you have it. Why did you take it? Where did you take it? How did you take it? When did you take it? Who did you take it? We will find it. We will find you. We know your name is-
Wait, wait, that’s not right. I’m very sorry listeners, that’s the wrong word from the wrong sponsors. I’m supposed to read this in...a certain number of years from now? How many years does that say? I can’t read that. I’m sure it will become apparent eventually. I’ve got the actual word from today’s sponsor here, who helped support our radio station and lets us continue to broadcast, so I probably should read it, but you know what, I’ve spent long enough on this segment already, so let’s just move on.
I’m getting word that the man giving out predictions- oh wait, I’m sorry, prophecies, is continuing to do so. However, it seems that the lawbreaker we spoke of earlier appeared on the scene some time ago and seems to have flipped some form of switch on the other man’s back, and run away laughing about something or other. Not much appears to have changed, except for the fact that now, rather than the prophecies being incredibly vague and mundane, they now appear to be very detailed and explicit predictions of exactly how and when the person asking will die, and the man does not appear to be sparing any detail. Now, for most of us this knowledge is still rather mundane. It’s not hard to know how and when you’ll die. That information is kept on public record in the secret death vault that used to be maintained by the City Council, but now is available for public access after the City Council decided that guarding it was boring, and really, what harm could it do a person to know the circumstances of their own death anyway?
However, there are some who live in this town who have actively avoided learning the circumstances of their own deaths. Some for personal reasons, some because they want to enjoy the surprise, and some because...well, I don’t know. I’d say I don’t judge, but I do. I judge those people very harshly, because they sound boring and pretentious. Like, you’re not better than the rest of us. You think you’re too good to know the circumstances of your own death like we “normal” people do? Grow up. Honestly. Those people. Maybe you should go see this man giving out prophecies. Learn how and when you’re going to die in excruciating and horrific detail. Maybe that will give you a taste of how the rest of us live. Yeah. Not so above it all now, are you? Hopefully that will teach you to put yourself up on a pedestal above the rest of us.
In any case, if you’d like to hear how you’re going to die, having somehow avoided that information until now, or would just like what you already know related back to you in extremely graphic and gory detail, head on down to City Hall now. Bring the kids for a friendly learning experience in seeing the future.
Oh, I’m hearing from our new intern Wooden Infantryman that somebody is getting up on the stage in Mission Grove Park and bringing a few instruments with them. It seems that the lawbreaker and the scientist with wings are currently on stage announcing a sound check and preview of the performance? I’d ask my intern to report back more, but it seems the lawbreaker has asked it to join them on stage and it has, apparently without question. I suppose that’s just what it likes to do. Fair enough. I would ask it to resume intern duties, but I made the mistake of not having any way to contact it. Normally when I need my interns to do something while they’re not in the studio I announce it over the radio and the rest of my dear listeners simply block out the instructions because they instinctively understand that those are not part of the broadcast. My listeners and I are so in tune. In any case, the Wooden Infantryman appears to be ignoring my instructions, or maybe it just can’t hear, so while I try to figure out a way to get our intern back, we bring you now to a live report of the weather.
[WEATHER]
There was a man both good and true
All alone and a-lowly
Branded a witch for what he could do
Lost in the cosmos lonely
They took him and threw him into the sky
All alone and a-lowly
Whence he came and where he would die
Lost in the cosmos lonely
In the cold of space his eyes did bleed
All alone and a-lowly
With crystals glimm’ring his body did freeze
Lost in the cosmos lonely
Slowly, slowly frost crept through
All alone and a-lowly
Stopping his blood as on he flew
Lost in the cosmos lonely
Sinews fixed for ever more
All alone and a-lowly
His bones encased in a screaming form
Lost in the cosmos lonely
At last his heart, its beating slowed
All alone and a-lowly
But it did not cease, his tale was not o’er
Lost in the cosmos lonely
Metal-bound his heart beats still
All alone and a-lowly
He’s not for heaven nor yet for hell
Lost in the cosmos lonely
CECIL: It seems, dear listeners, that during the weather report, representatives from the Sheriff’s Secret Police stormed the stage and apprehended the now infamous lawbreaker terrorising our town. Despite being part of the performance and the group putting on said performance, the others did not attempt to save him. The Wooden Infantryman simply continued to sing, and the winged woman, according to witnesses, simply laughed. The lawbreaker, apparently less angry and more amused at this turn of events, barely struggled as the Secret Police dragged him into an unmarked car and drove towards the abandoned mineshaft that the Secret Police uses to illegally detain anybody who votes incorrectly, breaks any laws, or whom they simply want to arrest out of boredom. It seems, once again, the threat of this man is finished forever, and we can return to hiding in fear of everything else in the town instead.
According to reports, a new man has appeared to accost onlookers with questions regarding the moon. Now, listeners, I know that describing the moon is also illegal, but hear me out on this one. His questions mostly seem to be regarding how it is there, as he, very angrily apparently, is insisting that he destroyed the moon three thousand years in the future ago. Now, as we all know, the destruction of the moon is something that we all understand but don’t speak of, considering how long ago it will eventually have happened, and I know, I know that descriptions of the moon are forbidden, but listen, if he’s not describing how the moon is, but is instead describing how the moon shouldn’t be, surely that’s more of a legal grey area, right? We can let this one slide, I think, Night Vale.
Hmm? Oh, my phone is buzzing, let me get this a second. Oh, it’s another voicemail from Carlos, that ought to be- and it’s gone. It’s gone. Right before my eyes. Are we sure that this isn’t a day ending in “Y”? It seems odd that this is happening today, is all. Whatever, let me just call him up.
[CECIL TYPES IN A PHONE NUMBER. THE PHONE RINGS FOR A FEW SECONDS]
CARLOS: Hello?
CECIL: Carlos? I got your voicemail. Well, actually, I didn’t, it deleted itself again, and I can’t figure out why. Anyway, is everything okay? How’s the sample going?
CARLOS: Oh, that? That’s what I was calling about actually.
CECIL: Oh, really? Did you make an exciting breakthrough? Or did something bad happen? Are you safe?
CARLOS: Are any of us really safe, Cecil? But anyway, no, neither of those things happened, the sample disappeared just after the scientist with the wings left.
CECIL: Oh, she left?
CARLOS: Yes, she said she had to go, something about a sound check? But yeah, the sample just started vibrating and hovering and all the doors locked. Then the walls began to tear.
CECIL: The walls of the lab?
CARLOS: No, the walls of this false and hollow reality we live in. It was a little weird, and for a bit I thought I saw some weird, squamous creatures trying to come through, but then it stopped. Anyway, the sample is gone, and all the doors are open now, so we should be good. Probably for the best anyway.
CECIL: So...you’re safe?
CARLOS: Relatively speaking no, but safe enough. Anyway, I just wanted to say that, because the sample is gone and so has that other scientist, I won’t be late home tonight, so we should have time to grab some dinner before the show? I was thinking Big Rico’s, if that’s okay? I haven’t been to Big Rico’s in a long time.
CECIL: Isn’t Big Rico’s right next to your laboratory?
CARLOS: Well, yes, but you know busy things get, and by the time the day is over you just don’t have the scientific curiosity you need for a slice of Big Rico’s in you anymore, you know?
CECIL: Well, I’m not a scientist, but Big Rico’s sounds lovely tonight before the show. I’ll see you soon?
CARLOS: Yep, I’m just packing up and I’ll see you very soon. I love you.
CECIL: I love you too.
[PHONE BEEPS, CALL ENDS]
CECIL: Well, listeners, it seems the chaos of the last few days is quieting down and our beloved Night Vale will be back to normal in no time. My new intern is nowhere to be found, so to whatever friends and family the Wooden Infantryman may or may not have had, you may be sorry for your loss, but not as sorry as I am, because it was an excellent intern. The musicians, including the scientist with the wings, the metal prophet, the strange man who will eventually have hated the moon before, and the lawbreaker, apparently escaped from the abandoned mineshaft with little difficulty, are all taking the stage in Mission Grove Park, where most of the town is gathering for the show, and if you’ll excuse me listeners, I will soon be joining them.
I know that the last week or so has been chaotic, what with broken laws and prophecies and strange, unethical experiments, which are all completely normal in Night Vale but generally unacceptable when performed by outsiders, but in the end, aren’t these little distractions what our lives are about? How dull and unmemorable would our town be if our happy and mundane lives of constant surveillance, mysterious deaths or injuries, and perfect-haired scientist boyfriends weren’t occasionally swept up in these strange events. What would there be for me to tell you all about, and for you to listen to, without these unprecedented and entirely unwarranted interruptions to our contented existences. I don’t know, because we have never had any period of time without at least some upheaval or cataclysm as long as I’ve lived in Night Vale, and I hope that we never do in the future, however long that future may or may not last for. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.