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He didn't totally remember the outside world. In fact, he didn't even remember when he started thinking of everything beyond Night Vale as the outside world, and the realization wasn't nearly as alarming as it should have been.
Of course, Carlos remembered his mother and father and sister and LA. He remembered growing up in a sprawling suburban house and going to nice schools and collecting bugs in jars on his dresser. It was impossible to forget Leah, his first kiss in the hall before math in the tenth grade. There was no way he could forget Ethan, the sweet and delicate math major who was his first boyfriend.
No, it was the little things he forgot. Things like the happiness of Thanksgiving, and the sharp snap of cold before snow. Things like Valentine's Days that didn't result in carnage and destruction. Pizza Hut and innocuous skies and ocean brine and Subway restaurants with exits. It had been a year and a half, hardly long enough to forget the way eucalyptus trees smelled, and yet here he was, unable to remember that simple joy.
The gaps in his memory were filled with other things, like Cecil's favourite colour and DO NOT LOOK AT THE DOG PARK and Cecil's furry pants and canceled Wednesdays and the way Cecil beamed when Carlos offered to cook dinner. He still remembered his sister's birthday and which grade his nephew was in, but other things left spaces to be filled with Night Vale. It took the reality he once knew and shifted it until he had to remind himself that mountains were real geologic features and not conspiracies set up by mountain apologists.
But, as he ate his mandatory slice of Big Rico's pizza (salami and vegetables, as usual—the only normal toppings they offered), he found he didn't mind. The precise colour of jacaranda blossoms didn't matter as he had to remember which streets would lead to unfathomable voids on weekdays. Plus, he would happily lose all of reality just to remember the feel of Cecil's skin. The thought should have frightened him, but it filled him with an odd peace.
Carlos was going native.
The first six months or so, Carlos and his fellow scientists were diligent in taking down reports and submitting research to the bosses. Though he couldn't remember the source of the grant money anymore, he did remember all of the notes and reports he submitted. They checked in regularly with the university through which they were hired, and the mysterious source of the hefty grant they received.
The six months following were. difficult at best. The others were dropping like flies at an alarming rate, and the others were leaving because of it. Fleeing, really. Carlos couldn't blame them, truth be told. He only remained through intense determination and knowledge that he was basically the only force keeping the town safe sometimes.
And Cecil.
He was staying because of Cecil.
He'd realised that he had feelings for Cecil long before their first date, while the radio host was squealing things like, "Can you believe he called me?!" over the airwaves. It took him months to get up the courage to ask Cecil on a date, and dear God, he was so glad he did.
And it took him about a week after that night that he was barely writing up notes on the people of the town, and when he did, they were no longer "Subject 27-A," but "Larry Leroy, out by the edge of town." These people were more than just subjects to him now. They were his neighbours. Hell, some of them were even friends! After a while, the reports turned more into gossip than pure scientific writing, and eventually, they became as brief as he could professionally get away with.
After about a year, he stopped sending in the reports altogether.
The funding slowed to a trickle before drying up altogether. He was drilling into his savings at an alarming rate just to keep paying rent on the lab and maintaining things, but it was worth it. Though he'd never been particularly religious, he liked the idea of people and things having patron saints. Why couldn't Carlos be the patron saint of Night Vale?
So, as he went around doing his best to keep the town from certain and absolute doom, he found it harder and harder to keep the lab afloat and afford groceries. It got to the point where Big Rico gave him pizza for free, just to be certain that he got at least one meal a day. Carlos was working himself ragged, and happily so, but the townspeople who loved him fretted endlessly. Old Woman Josie frequently left casseroles on his doorstep, and he got more baskets of imaginary corn from John Peters (you know, the farmer?) than he knew what to do with. The town banded together in unprecedented ways to take care of one of its own.
Doubt still lurked, though, in the back of everyone's minds. Though the townspeople could easily and happily keep feeding their patron saint, they couldn't really keep him in scientific equipment. They were afraid that he'd be unable to do what he loved most and leave, following the scent of grants and research.
Though he never mentioned it outright, it was obvious to everyone (except Carlos, of course) that Cecil was nervous. He wasn't sure that love alone could keep his beautiful, perfect Carlos in Night Vale with him, and he was barely sleeping and barely eating from the anxiety and potential sorrow.
Everyone in town tutted about "poor Cecil" when they though Carlos wasn't listening, although he heard every muttered thing they said. He felt intensely guilty, even though he wasn't entertaining a single thought of leaving town. Maybe of abandoning science in favour of a paying job, but never Night Vale.
But somehow, City Council decided that they needed to keep Carlos happy in order to keep Cecil happy. As it was, he was doing a decent job of keeping the town relatively safe, so they felt that it was really in their best interests to add him to their payroll. Besides, every government, no matter how small or shadowy, needs a scientist in their ranks.
The money started flowing in slowly, and the casseroles were more for thanks than concern. Though it made him nervous to think about what working for the City Council might entail, Carlos was incredibly grateful to them for allowing him to continue doing what he loved, in a place that he loved.
Despite the buzzing shadow creatures and slightly passive-aggressive boyfriend ("Look, I'm sorry I keep getting wrapped up in studying everything, but you really don't need to tell your listeners about how I'm slowly learning."), Night Vale was home.
He was one of them now, and he couldn't be happier.