Who's a Good Boy?

by Joseph Fink

  And she began to tell the truth, all of it, as she knew it. Obviously we can report nothing of what she said. Most of the crowd fled, horrified of what would be done with them if they heard even a fragment of the mayor’s testimony. The judge felt obligated to stay, but put on the sound-canceling headphones they assign all judges so none of them will hear anything that might make life too complicated. Only Hiram, already charged, already a criminal, listened with interest, as Dana unfurled the shadows within her.

  And then she was done. She said, “Thank you,” nodded to the judge, nodded to Hiram, collected her belongings, and walked out of the courtroom.

  So the trial is continuing just fine, and we should reach justice, whatever that means, quite soon. Obviously, the transcript for this day of the trial will be burned, along with the court stenographer.

  And now for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

  Up is up and down is down.

  Left is right and right is left.

  To the west there are the highest highs

  and to the east there are the lows.

  The up top is where the bluebirds go

  and the witching happens down below.

  If you need to cross the street,

  mind your shoes and mind your feet,

  for there are more to streets

  than horns that bleat

  or cars that speed

  or lights that lead,

  there is something stranger yet

  that wants to take you, don’t forget,

  yes there is something stranger still

  and if it can, it could

  and it would and it will.

  Its teeth are sharp, its eyes are sharp,

  its voice a dulcet maze,

  so walk real quick and step real light

  and always look both ways

  Look to the left to see your own death

  and look to the right to avoid a great fright

  and look for what hides under the cars that pass by,

  under the trucks that speed,

  under the pavement weeds,

  under the asphalt and sand,

  look for a quick, grasping hand.

  Up is up and down is down.

  Left is right and right is left.

  To the west there are the highest highs

  and to the east there are the lows.

  The up top is where the bluebirds go

  and the witching happens down below.

  This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

  The Night Vale airport announced a trial run of international flights. Previously, there were only the regular flights to LAX, JFK, XTA, Burbank, and, of course, King City. But now, airport administration is unveiling plans to reach more than fifty international destinations, including Mexico, Double Mexico, and Svitz. How these plans can be achieved in a one-terminal airport with no customs facilities and only the capacity to handle two passenger planes at a time has not been answered.

  Martin McCaffry, local representative of the TSA, waved away objections to the changes, standing in front of reporters and literally waving his arms in physical dismissal of the questions being raised. He also added an occasional “psssht” and eye roll.

  He then gave a statement, “Now that I have provided an official response to any technical questions on this matter, it’s time to talk about what’s important to this town.”

  He opened up a box which contained hundreds, if not thousands, of hand-drawn sketches depicting a strange elongated dark figure crawling out of a kitchen refrigerator.

  Martin said, “I find one of these on my pillow each morning when I wake up. I don’t know who is drawing them or why. Who is doing this to me?”

  He collapsed to his knees, his face a perfect portrait of anguish, while above him the bright pink banner saying “CELEBRATING A NEW AIRPORT FOR A NEW NIGHT VALE” flapped loudly in the rising wind, each gust bringing a sharp bark of plastic as Martin, crouched beneath, retreated into a sad, helpless silence.

  You know, I haven’t traveled out of the country in a long time. I have half a mind to hop on one of those planes and head to Svitz again, or even somewhere new. Maybe Carlos and I could check out a nice resort somewhere tropical. That’d be so fun. Martin is now weeping, and crawling away from the podium, dragging his crumpled-up sketches with him, spit and snot dripping off his face, forming a trail in the dirt below him. A tropical vacation. Could be just what we need!

  And finally, a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is sponsored by Kleenex brand tissue products. We know that you have a lot of choices when it comes to your nose. For instance, you could choose to simply not have one. Just pop it right off and go on with your day unhindered. Or you could choose to have multiple decorative noses that turn your face into a provocative modern sculpture. But instead you decided to have just the one nose, that half the time doesn’t work, and is exactly between your eyes where it sits distractingly in your vision at all times for no reason. Of course your brain tunes that out unless someone calls attention to it, so I guess that’s not too bad, but in general you’ve chosen the barely functioning weird nose you have, and we’re sure glad you did. Kleenex brand tissue products. You have a lot of choices in life. We’re glad you for some reason chose the faulty body you have.

  This has been a word from our sponsors.

  Update from the trial.

  In a last-minute surprise, there has been a complete turnover in the makeup of the jury. Previously, the jury was made up of seven humans and an AI simulating a five-headed dragon. This was all pretty standard, but now, without warning, announcement, or any decision from the judge, the seven humans were removed from the jury. In their stead were seven strangers. The strangers were unmoving, unblinking. They breathed. Audible, even breaths. The hiss of air through their nostrils. Eyes fixed on nothing.

  Judge Azdak said that she does not approve of this change, but also that she’s too scared to question it. And anyway she would find it hard to enforce any actions against it since the bailiff too is now a stranger, unmoving, except that every time the judge looks away and looks back again she swears the stranger is slightly closer than she was before.

  The defense attorney, on behalf of the four heads he represents, offered strong objections from behind his desk, where he was hiding from the strangers. The prosecuting attorney joined his objections, and also joined him behind the desk.

  There was very little comment from the observers in the gallery, as most of them too had been replaced by unmoving, breathing strangers.

  “Well, I guess we should get right to deliberations then,” shouted the judge through the closed and locked door of her chambers.

  “But we haven’t even given our closing arguments,” said both attorneys simultaneously, sitting back to back so that they could keep their eyes on as many of the strangers as possible.

  The judge considered this argument and responded by screaming that one of the strangers was in her chambers and how did he get in there? The Troys did not have an answer to that, and so the deliberations begin.

  Listeners, while we wait to hear the verdict to this eventful and historic trial, let us take a quick peek at the weather.

  WEATHER: “Cocaine” by Holy Moly

  The trial of Hiram McDaniels is over. A verdict has been reached. The jury that consisted of an AI simulation of a five-headed dragon and seven silent, unmoving strangers only deliberated for a few minutes before returning with a verdict of guilty on all charges. The strangers breathed, heavy visible breaths. The AI booped and whistled. It was all very quiet, and polite, and quick.

  Hiram’s heads responded in ways as differing as their personalities. Green of course roared, and spat out a stream of fire unlike any ever seen from him before, white in its pure heat. Gold nodded gravely, a politician politically accepting bad news. Blue didn’t react visibly at all. Gray slumped and curled into his own long neck, a look of supreme dejection on his reptilian features. And Purple sat tal
l, in satisfaction rather than celebration.

  Judge Azdak said, “Well, let’s get to sentencing then.” And Troy Walsh, lawyer for the defendants, prepared to speak. But the judge went on to say, “There are no arguments to be made. If Hiram is guilty of attacking his mayor, of attacking the very civic structure of our town, then Hiram must be put to death. We have no choice,” she concluded.

  Even Troy Walsh, the prosecuting attorney, was taken aback by this sudden and severe sentence. He met eyes with his identical legal opposition and made a small shrug. What am I supposed to do here? He signaled through the expressive language of the body. This isn’t my problem I guess. It’s a problem but not my problem.

  The judge continued. “Sentence to be carried out once all appeals have been received and disposed of. The guilty four heads will be killed with a single bullet each, so as to not harm the lungs, heart, or any other part of the body shared with the violet head, who is not charged by this court.”

  “But,” Violet shouted. “But I am connected to them completely. If my other heads die then I will die too.”

  Green continued to roar, and for the first time, there was a hard spine of anguish within the pulse of his anger. Gray sobbed, loudly and unashamed. Gold, still nodding at the court with a politician’s poker face, surprised himself by throwing up, and in doing so gave up the pretense of geniality. He too began to sob.

  “I’m afraid,” said Judge Azdak, removing her glasses and cleaning them distractedly with a bit of her robe, “that justice is more important than the life of every innocent who comes through this court. If there is damage to more than the perpetrators, then that is unfortunate but unavoidable. Take him away.”

  Since the bailiff was an unmoving stranger, the helpful but doomed court stenographer led Hiram away. Violet howled that she couldn’t do this, that he was not charged with any crime, but no one intervened. A janitor trundled her cart forward to mop up the vomit left by Gold. The few humans left observing the court seemed at a loss for what to do, and started to disperse in uncertain, uneven groups. The AI did not move, because it was a computer. The strangers in the courtroom did not move either, although they seemed just a little closer to the onlookers than they were before.

  And so that’s it. That was the trial of Hiram McDaniels. He will be killed. His violet head, innocent, will also die. So that’s justice, I guess. I guess we’ve done it. Good work us, I guess.

  Stay tuned next for the awful void of your own doubts and feelings.

  Good night. I guess.

  PROVERB: “Them’s the brakes, kid,” said the most annoying driving instructor ever.

  Episode 88:

  “Things Fall Apart”

  AUGUST 15, 2016

  GUEST VOICES: ERICA LIVINGSTON (PHONE TREE), CHRISTOPHER LOAR (PHONE TREE), DYLAN MARRON (CARLOS), EMMA FRANKLAND (SHERIFF SAM), KATE JONES (MICHELLE NGUYEN), MAUREEN JOHNSON (INTERN MAUREEN)

  LET ME JUST SAY THIS . . . I AM NOT AN ACTRESS. I AM A WRITER. Some days, I am not even a writer. I’m saying it’s exciting when I am asked to do something, especially if that something involves acting. So let me pull back the curtain and tell you how I prepared for my performance in this episode.

  Google procyon. Spend five minutes trying to pronounce it. Nail it. Close the browser. Immediately forget how to pronounce it. Repeat until snack time.

  Wonder who even knows the word procyon. Does everyone know it? Have I had a major failing in my education?

  Consider substituting trash bandit to see if anyone notices. They will notice. They are professionals.

  Google pictures of raccoons. Amazing creatures, raccoons. Did you know that they can unlock doors and play the banjo? One of these is true. It’s the one with the banjo.

  Seriously. Who even knows this word? Did they make it up? Consider calling Joseph and Jeffrey to find out which one of them put it in the script. It feels like a Jeffrey but sometimes a Jeffrey is really a Joseph in disguise because in writing, no one sees your face, unless they are looking at you.

  It’s not even that hard to pronounce: pro-SIGH-on. Wait. Is that it? I think that’s wrong.

  One time, when I was a kid, my parents said, “Maureen! Come outside! There is a PANDA in our tree!” And I went outside and looked at the panda, but it wasn’t a panda, of course. Pandas do not live in suburban Pennsylvania. It was a raccoon. I swapped the words panda and raccoon. For years and years I had a fond memory of the panda in our tree. Kids are stupid. Anyway.

  PRO-see-on?

  Pretty sure this was Jeffrey.

  Having said that, it was Joseph.

  There are more words in this monologue. It’s about a page long. Cannot obsess over procyon.

  Prok-KEY-on. Definitely wrong.

  Now I’ve forgotten how to say raccoon. Words are melting.

  We have a lot of raccoons in suburban Pennsylvania. Not pandas, as I mentioned. They like to hang out on my family’s back porch and poop. They poop quite a lot on our porch. My mom had to buy a bag of dried wolf urine pellets to keep them away. That’s a thing you can buy.

  The raccoons don’t even care about the wolf urine pellets. They still treat the birdfeeder like a bucket of popcorn. They even make eye contact with us through the window as they stick in their little hands and eat the seed.

  PRO! see-on. Just say it with confidence. That’s 100 percent of life. Fake it until you make it, et cetera.

  Wolf-urine-pellet maker isn’t a job title you hear often enough.

  The spellchecker doesn’t even know the word procyon and you expect more of me?

  I’ll mumble.

  I’ll bet Cecil knows how to say procyon. I bet he was born with the knowledge. It came preloaded into that magnificent bald head of his. Cecil can say any word.

  And there you have it. There was more to this episode, I’m sure. I’m sure it was great. They’re all gems. All I remember is procyon. You try saying it. Anyway, don’t think about the word procyon. Try not to dwell on it as you read the following. Don’t think about procyon. It’s not even that important to the story.

  —Maureen Johnson

  [Capital words/phrases marked with ** are separately recorded in a monotone voice. The rest is standard pseudo-chipper operator voice.]

  [sound of phone ringing in earpiece]

  RECORDED VOICE: Citywide utility failures continue to haunt us, but not as much as the strangers who do not appear to move. Welcome to the Night Vale Public Utilities phone line.

  If you’re calling with a water, power, gas, phone, or surveillance camera malfunction, please press one.

  If you just called to chat, pr——

  [beep of keypad 1]

  Night Vale is currently experiencing citywide power outages, as well as polluted water supplies and several gas leaks. It’s not our fault but HR says we should apologize for the inconvenience. . . . Sorry I guess. It’s not like we’re not experiencing the same things though. So, maybe you could reciprocate the sympathies.

  CECIL: I’m sorry.

  RECORDED VOICE: Thank you. To pay your bill, press one.

  To compliment the fine work of the Utilities Department, press two.

  To whine about your personal problems, press—

  CECIL: [over this last line] I am not complimenting the fine work of the Utilities Department.

  RECORDED VOICE: I can repeat that last option if you need. To compliment the fine work of the Utilities Department, press two.

  [long pause]

  Okay, fine. To whine about your personal problems, press three.

  To schedule a Service Technician, press—

  [beep of keypad 4]

  You pressed four. I didn’t give you an option four. You just assumed the next number and then cut me off mid-sentence.

  CECIL: Oh good god.

  RECORDED VOICE: I’m sorry. Is this hard for you? Do you need a hug? Do you need me to sing you a lullaby and feed you? Here comes the airplane spoon to feed the hungry, hungry boy. Vrrrommm. Mmmmm tasty carrots. Feel
better now?

  CECIL: Wow, the phone tree is getting snippy.

  PHONE: Don’t be rude. I am a person, not a phone tree. This is my job. To record every possible phrase for every possible person’s possible need. I recorded all of it. I’m a real human with a body and needs and a family. And I have a name. I am Maggie Pennebaker. I’m not a disembodied lady voice who’ll passively ignore your whiny entitlement.

  CECIL: I’m sorry, Maggie. Are we speaking live?

  [pause]

  RECORDED VOICE: You selected Schedule a Service Technician.

  Please hold.

  [brief pause]

  Our next available service date is between the hours of *ONE* and *FIVE* *PM* on *SEPTEMBER* *FOURTH* *TWO THOUSAND FIVE* in the *COMMON ERA*.

  CECIL: That was eleven years ago.

  PHONE: To have time explained to you like you were a five-year-old, please hang up now and give up on ever having realistic expectations.

  To confirm this appointment, press one.

  To speak to a customer service representative, press two.

  [beep of keypad 2]

  PHONE: All operators are currently *SHOULDERING THE IMMENSE BURDEN* of *SOCIETAL DISPLEASURE*. Please continue to hold. Current wait time is *SUPERLONG*.

  CECIL: Aggh.

  [hangs up]

  [phone ringing]

  CARLOS: Hey, Poot.

  CECIL: Hey, Bunny. Listen, Carlos, the power is out here at the station. I can’t even do my show. I’ve been trying to get through to the utilities but they’re slammed with calls.

  CARLOS: Oh, I talked to my friend Maggie who works there. She said her cousin has an extra generator we can borrow.

  CECIL: You know Maggie?

  CARLOS: Yeah, she used to work with me part-time as a lab assistant. Also, Josie came by with her friends and dropped off some bottled water. Even John Peter stopped by. You know, John P——

  CECIL: Yes, John Peters, the farmer. I know.

  CARLOS: No, John Peter, remember, the pharmacist? Anyway, he dropped off your prescription this morning.

  CECIL: That was nice of him.

  CARLOS: Listen, since you don’t have to work today, you should come back home. It’s bad out there, and if you’re going to get killed or possessed by one of the strangers, I’d rather you do it here with me. I’ll make us some lunch and we can play Cards in Favor of Humanity.