Who's a Good Boy?

by Joseph Fink

  The World Government has made a statement apologizing for the technical errors that are allowing this speech to be heard, and have released a response that consists of just the words “NUH UH” drawn in red crayon on construction paper. So two interesting sides to consider in this story.

  Update on the Trial of the Century, as four of the five heads belonging to five-headed dragon Hiram McDaniels are tried for their role in the attempted coup against our beloved mayor.

  The first witness of the trial was called to the stand today. It was Harrison Kip, adjunct professor of archaeology at the Night Vale Community College. He was once tricked by Hiram’s heads and their coconspirator, the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home, into summoning a sand golem that wreaked havoc throughout Night Vale. We covered all this of course, in our two-part report last year.

  Harrison had been so ashamed of his role in the destruction that he fled into the desert to live the life of a simple hermit, only reaching out to civilization to procure the bare necessities of life, and occasionally getting on Skype to remotely teach classes and hold office hours.

  Mr. Kip did his best to describe what had happened, but mainly all that happened is that he was tricked into raising a sand golem, so his testimony wasn’t that interesting. The only highlight came when he was asked about his months out in the desert. He indicated that he found the desert mostly peaceful, but that he had recently seen something in the middle of the night that had disturbed him. He seemed very shook up about it, slumping forward and mumbling what was, I believe, the word appalling over and over.

  That part of his testimony probably didn’t mean anything, and probably doesn’t indicate anything is going to happen. As that famous TV lawyer Buffy the Vampire Slayer always says in her big closing arguments, “Past performance is not a predictor of future results.”

  Nick Teller’s speech at the Museum of Forbidden Technologies is, disastrously, continuing to be heard by attendees, and, even more disastrously, the contents of this speech are being repeated on the radio.

  He moved on from his energy tips to reminisce a bit about some projects of his that didn’t go exactly according to plan. For instance, he said, he once did some work on a boat in Pennsylvania and a few mixed-up calculations meant that instead of the boat becoming invisible as planned, it jumped through both time and parallel universes, horribly altering every human on board.

  But, Nick went on to emphasize, he didn’t let failures like that get him down, even though that particular failure was so spectacular that he had to change his name and fake his death in order to evade the consequences. Well, this is inspiring stuff, even though hearing it is completely illegal. As is, probably, repeating it on the radio. Whoopsie.

  Well, more from Nick, as I continue to accidentally tell you what he’s saying.

  But first, today’s traffic: a spectrum of gray.

  The topmost gray is that of sunlight filtered through high altitude clouds, then through lower altitude haze, darkening down on a monochromatic spectrum toward dirt that is gray or appears gray due to the quality of light. Built up from the dirt are gray buildings, full of gray people speaking grayly.

  “Yes, I’ll have another slice of pie,” they say. “Business is looking as good as this pie,” they say. “Pie tastes great and is better nutritionally than most people think,” they say.

  Colorless, toneless words. Gray faces slacking onto gray necks and gray bodies. Gray dreams of a gray future that is neither good nor bad but just what’s next. A gray life lived grayly.

  Gray dreams through gray nights, electric lights too bright to ever let dark settle into dark, no great absence to contrast the stars, no rich black of the void, a gray night. Gray dreams. Gray life. Gray words. Gray buildings in a gray world and the light grays grayly through the gray.

  This has been traffic.

  And now a word from our sponsors.

  Today’s sponsor is Google.

  Looking for pictures of a monkey riding a pony? Just search that on Google and it will probably be there.

  Looking for pictures of a dog named Table? Search that, and I bet someone named their dog Table and took a picture.

  How about an image of the exact moment of your death? I dunno, that might be on there too. Give it a search.

  The internet is huge. Whatever it is, it’s probably on there.

  Google. Search for superweird stuff. We’ll probably find something at least kind of similar.

  This has been a word from our sponsors.

  It’s almost time for our weather report, and I have to admit I’m surprised. I’d have thought given some of the forbidden information we’ve been repeating from Nick Teller that we would have been shut down by now, but maybe I was wrong about th——

  WEATHER: “Table Song” by Katie Kuffel

  I’m finally back, listeners. I’m sure you’ve noticed over the past several days that our usual broadcasts had been replaced by harsh buzzing and the occasional shout of “You’re not hearing anything right now. This isn’t sound.”

  As I had kind of hoped, the World Government shut down our station, which meant that I got a couple weeks off. I had been needing a break, and the extralegal closure of my place of work and the forced reeducation of all of us who worked there gave me just the chance I needed.

  In between reeducation sessions, I did a number of household chores that needed doing. Painting, gutter cleaning, and the like. The picking up and the putting down and the mending and the clearing. Resodding my lawn after Michelle burned her statement into it. I had some quiet time with Carlos, and I rewatched the entire series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I love at the end of every episode, after she successfully wins the big court case, when she smokes cigars and cracks wise with her law firm partner, Angel. Ugh, so good.

  I also dropped in on Nick Teller at his auto shop in the high school. He had just finished up feeding the cars and was grading some papers, but he kindly made time for a chat.

  I asked him if he wished things had turned out for him differently. If he wished that he hadn’t had to flee his old life, and come to this town where his best inventions are suppressed by order of the World Government.

  He smiled. “No,” he said. “Honestly, I get it. The world has never been accepting of what I do. And I’m happy with my life here. I like teaching auto shop. I like working with young people. I like guiding them into a life of creating new things that will never see the light of day because they threaten the system as it is and the powers as they are. It’s rewarding work.”

  I told him I was glad that he seemed to have found peace in his life.

  He said he was too. “After all,” he said, “what other choice would I have? It’s not like I could go back and fix my mistakes. Or wait . . .” He turned pensive and told me that he had some old papers he wanted to look through, for purely nostalgic reasons, and asked if I could leave him to it.

  And so I did.

  Listeners, maybe at some point Nick wanted to be something other than he was. But that doesn’t mean he is beholden to that dream he once had. It’s okay for him to be all right with who he is now. Acceptance is not failure. Sometimes acceptance is just acceptance.

  Of course, one must always be open to new dreams, and new ambition. And if at some point Nick decides that he no longer wants to be an AP auto shop teacher, or if he decides he wants to alter history so he will never have even come here, then that too will be okay.

  Stay tuned next for an unexpected gain in cabin pressure. No mask will help you. We weren’t prepared for things to go this way.

  And good night, Night Vale. Good night.

  PROVERB: You know what would be great? If someone made a movie showing Spider-Man’s origin story. I’d love to finally see that on the big screen.

  Episode 82:

  “Skating Rink”

  FEBRUARY 15, 2016

  GUEST VOICES: MEG BASHWINER (DEB), JACKSON PUBLICK (HIRAM MCDANIELS)

  WHEN I WAS BETWEEN THREE AND
EIGHT YEARS OLD, I SPENT MY SUMMER days at Classic Day Care Center in Mesquite, Texas. It no longer exists. It’s a plumbing supply company now.

  This is good news because they weren’t very good at the “care” part of their title.

  I mean aside from occasionally getting yelled at or smacked, Classic is where I learned to swim and play soccer and make god’s eyes. So it wasn’t all bad.

  Every few weeks they would put us all in the conversion van and take us on the long drive across the city to Broadway Skateland. I loved this because (1) I loved skating from the first moment I learned to not fall down, and (2) I loved road trips, seeing the world from the back seat. The car-ride games like license plate poker and punch buggy. The thrill of adventure, being away from home. I still love all of these things.

  One summer afternoon around 1982-ish, I was so consumed with speed racing around and around in an oval to Top 40 music, I stopped listening to announcements. (Favorite skating songs back then: “Elvira,” “Another One Bites the Dust,” “Call Me,” “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll,” and “Queen of Hearts.”)

  Anyway, “the Classic van is leaving” is not a thing I heard over the PA. It wasn’t until they played some couple skate song (probably “Sailing”) that I rolled myself off the wood and looked for my friends. Not at the soda machine. Not playing Ms. Pac-Man or Tron. Gone. So I just skated for another hour or so before I told anyone.

  Later, after I got tired—and a bit worried about being all alone so far from home—I told the skating rink manager (probably not named Teddy Williams) and he called Classic to come get me. The ride back to the day care was long, a bummer of a comedown. The woman driving me told me not to tell my mom. And as I type this story, I realize that I never did.

  I looked up Broadway Skateland on Google Maps, and it’s unbelievably still there (4.4 stars on Google even! Good job, Broadway!). And it is literally a seven-minute walk (not a half-day-long road trip) from where Classic used to be. Never trust my memories is the lesson here.

  In writing this episode, I was feeling some nostalgia for my early ’80s roller-skating days. I also wanted to include a bit of romance between characters I’ve been ’shipping in my head for a while. So enjoy the love, and enjoy the songs. It’s an all-skate.

  —Jeffrey Cranor

  If you’re happy and you know it, then the chemtrails are finally working.

  WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE

  Today is the grand opening of the newest feature at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex: a skating rink. Owner Teddy Williams said he has loved roller skating since he was a child, and it’s been a dream of his to build a skating rink in Night Vale.

  Williams said skate rentals are half off during this opening week, and there will be music by local DJs every Friday night. Williams also clarified that there is absolutely no way there is any underground city living below the rink.

  “I double-, triple-checked,” Williams said. “There’s no way a portal to another civilization could be under there because I built the skating rink on top of the old pet cemetery. No confrontational nation will come from the ground and attack us.”

  Teddy said he did hear occasional growls and hisses and even a few loud birdlike shrieks coming from the walls, but this is most likely just the ghosts of the dead animals whose corpses he disturbed when building the rink.

  “It’ll be fine,” he added as Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll” played loudly in the background.

  The City Council announced today that flowers look especially pretty.

  “Everyone go smell the flowers,” they snarled, wistfully, in unison. “Have you ever smelled one of those things? Just so full of color and musk and fluffy yellow dust! Here, smell this.”

  They threw daisies all over the surprised reporters. The council asked if the sun looked like it was smiling. “We just stare at that thing all day,” they sneered, lovingly. “We think it is the kindest thing in the sky. Look.”

  The council then pointed up at the windowless conference room’s drop ceiling.

  It’s so nice to hear the City Council in a good mood. I can’t think of the last time they’ve sounded so hopeful and cheery. Have they ever been in a good mood?

  But you know, everyone here at the station too has been uncharacteristically friendly the past few days. Station Management—who I only ever see as shadows and glowing orange lights in the corner office and who regularly scream and cause the building to shake when the ad sales team doesn’t make quarterly goals—has been buying donuts for the staff. They also bought us a new claw hammer and a stone pounding board for making coffee.

  Plus, this morning they left a card on my desk thanking me (Station Management! Thanking me!) and giving me a raise. I didn’t even know I was getting paid.

  So many people having a lovely day. I hope you’re having one too, Night Vale.

  Our new sheriff followed up the City Council press conference with a report on the growing number of strangers in Night Vale. These strangers appear out of nowhere and do not visibly move other than their even, deliberate breaths. Sometimes they are suddenly closer without anyone seeing them take a step.

  The sheriff said they think the strangers are just people from Desert Bluffs, who have abandoned their wretched city to come live in Night Vale, but that the Secret Police are looking further into rumors that the strangers might be something else entirely.

  When pressed about their opposition to Mayor Dana Cardinal’s financial assistance of Desert Bluffs, the sheriff brought out a several-foot-high stone and sculpted an intricate series of interconnected geometrical shapes, each one balancing the next.

  The reporters watched the sheriff for hours until the sculpture was complete. The sheriff then added that they did not oppose the mayor on all issues.

  “In fact, Mayor Cardinal is a good mayor. We just disagree on the issue of how to fight crime,” the sheriff said, still tightly gripping their stone carver. “For instance, I agree with the mayor about needing to open the Dog Park to dogs and people. I love dogs and think it would be great if folks could take their dogs into the Dog Park.”

  The sheriff then said that they saw the cutest beagle puppy the other day. Really, really cute. The sheriff leaned close into the mic and said “SUCH A GOOD BOY. GOOOOOD DOOOGGGG.”

  Listeners, I’m getting word that the City Council was just seen in public, walking across the front lawn of City Hall, each of them carrying matching black cases. Witnesses were stunned as the City Council is rarely seen outside of City Hall, despite their constant vacations.

  Some reported that they heard the council whistling Mariah Carey’s “Always Be My Baby,” but others reported that that must have been the bluebirds fluttering about just above their heads. Some eyewitness accounts say that the council wasn’t even walking. They were strolling. When has the City Council ever strolled? We didn’t know their bodies were even anatomically capable of that.

  Someone else said, “That looks like skipping to me,” but that’s ridiculous. Skipping?

  Is the council leaving town on another vacation? What put them in such a good mood? More on this as it develops.

  And now a word from our sponsor. Here with that is Deb, a sentient patch of haze, and also, I think, our ad sales manager here at the station.

  DEB: Oh, I don’t work for the station.

  CECIL: But you regularly provide me with copy for our live spots. You also read ads from various companies on the air. Do you work for an ad agency?

  DEB: Cecil. Please.

  CECIL: But this is my show. If you don’t actually work at the station or for the companies you’re pitching, I’d like to know who you work for.

  DEB: Ssshh. Not everything can be an emergency.

  Okay then. Human listeners, today’s show is brought to you by Pfizer.

  What does Pfizer do? What DOESN’T Pfizer do? Whew, all the things Pfizer can help you with! We can’t even begin to describe it to you. You know what, Pfizer is indescribable. How ca
n you put into words what Pfizer does? You can’t. You wouldn’t. No, you absolutely would not. You wouldn’t dare describe what we do.

  You’re still trying to describe us in your mind, aren’t you? Maybe Pfizer wasn’t articulate enough. Maybe Pfizer can’t trust you.

  You have betrayed Pfizer. Don’t say no. Did you just say no? Why are you always arguing with us? We give and give and give. And we never ask for anything other than money in return. We only ask for money and that you not try to describe us in words. And what do you do? You give us lots of money, but also try to describe us in words.

  Pfizer. We can’t even with this right now. Uff da.

  CECIL: It sounds like you work for the pharmaceutical industry.

  DEB: Now not you too, Cecil! I can’t be here anymore.

  [door slam]

  CECIL: Wow. The door didn’t even move. Not sure how she slammed it.

  Listeners, I’m being distracted. Intern Kareem has been pestering me to allow him to go skating. Since Station Management seems to be out of the office, he thinks right now is the perfect time to take a long break and go check out the new Desert Flower Skating Rink.

  I’m going to let you go, Kareem. But only because it’s a news story. I want a full report on the new facility, okay. This is still your work time, Kar——

  Well. He just skated away. I need to sit him down and talk to him about professionalism and where he got cool skates like those. They had lightning bolts on them.

  But first, we’ve just received a call from a controversial figure. Calling in from the jailhouse, I presume, while on trial. Listeners, let’s go now to an exclusive interview with literal five-headed dragon, Hiram McDaniels.

  Hiram, hello.

  HIRAM-GOLD: Howdy, Cecil. Thanks for letting me on your show. I just wanted to call in and clear up a few things about this trial.

  HIRAM-GREEN: WE WILL BURN THE COURTHOUSE TO THE GROUND. WE WILL CHAR THE ALREADY CHARRED REMAINS OF THE HUMAN JUDGE AND JURY.