by Joseph Fink
WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE
Listeners, I won’t waste your time recapping everything that happened in the earlier part of this broadcast. There were so many events of such tremendous impact and significance that they are surely locked forever in your memory.
So let us, a town with an imperiled mayor and a brutally injured Sheriff, a town under attack, a town in the middle of something that we are seeing through from start to finish, let us continue right where we left off.
Harrison Kip, Adjunct Professor of Archaeology at the Community College, announced once again that he is super sorry about accidentally raising the Sand Golem by whispering sweet nothings to that talisman he found out in the desert. The team of six wealthy sponsors who backed his project and who he has only ever spoken to by phone told him that this was what mysterious talismans liked.
“Talismans love to be flirted with in a sexy whisper,” the anonymous sponsors had told him, although they never mentioned that doing so would cause a Sand Golem to rise and turn against the humans around it.
“My bad,” Harrison said, gravely, continuing: “Most def my bad,” before fleeing into the desert, receding from human form to distant human form to dot to smudge to misplaced pixel on the horizon line to memory to vague recollection to an idea just out of reach to something I knew long ago but now cannot grasp enough to feel its absence.
The Sand Golem along with thousands of angora rabbits, which were released from the Night Vale Petting Zoo by unknown, malicious parties, have reached the upper floors of City Hall and are attacking anything that moves or doesn’t move or just exists anywhere on the spectrum of motion with its huge sand fists and their soft, harmless fur.
Director of Emergency Press Conferences, Pamela Winchell, held a nonemergency press conference, explaining that the situation seemed too urgent to distract everyone with the usual emergency press conference. She read a statement written by Mayor Dana Cardinal indicating that the mayor has given up on her previously announced plan to barricade the door and then found her subsequently announced plan to hide was ruined when she released the statement announcing it, and so now she is announcing her current plan, which is to fight. To fight and to win.
Listeners, I would gladly help the mayor, but as I’ve been regularly expressing throughout the morning’s tragedies and this afternoon’s attack, I have conflicted feelings here. Yes, Mayor Dana is a dear friend, and one of the citizens of this town I trust the most. But, but, the last time I helped her it was done without my will. Not against my will. Without. I was used as a puppet to save a good friend, and good friend though she is, it is not a feeling I wish to experience again.
I’ll tell you what I think it is: I believe the culprit is whoever bought Lot 37 from the Sheriff’s Secret Police Auction last year. Lot 37: one radio host, one Cecil Palmer, one me. I believe whoever owns that lot has manipulated me into the role of hero, like an action figure limp in the sticky hands of a child.
I do not wish to be manipulated again except in that way that anyone who lives in an all-seeing authoritarian state is constantly manipulated for their own health and well-being.
Such is the wish of all people. To only be manipulated in ways that are good for them.
But all to say, maybe someone else can help Dana this time.
More and more on this soon, as there has been much and much before.
Construction work is already commencing at the bowling alley after the shocking incident we reported on earlier today. (I know I’LL never look at one of those ball-return machines the same way again.)
Teddy Williams said the space should again be available for bowling by Wednesday at the latest, that league night is set to continue as scheduled, and that he’s had enough, just enough, there’s only so much one person, you know, that one person can take, and that limit was reached several months ago and he’s just been coasting, you know, coasting, trying, doing his best, and now this? Now this! Right? Now this. He doesn’t know what next. What now. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Probably not this anymore, he doesn’t think. How old do you have to be to retire? How old is he? He doesn’t know the answer to those questions. But he’ll find out. And then he’ll know, you know, he’ll know. And again, league night is continuing as scheduled.
Which, whew. Wouldn’t be a good week for me without league night.
And now another word from our sponsors.
You already know who we are. We introduced ourselves earlier. Let’s not waste time reiterating the benefits of our product, how little it costs, how easy it is to get, how unwise it would be not to buy it, and where exactly we took your loved ones.
Instead let’s concentrate on the legally required disclaimers. We forgot to do those and our lawyer got really mad about it. Have you ever seen a mad lawyer? Their ears stand straight up and they won’t stop barking at you. It’s terrifying.
[following sped up in post-production]
So, we need to add that using our product could result in sterility, senility, hearing loss, vision loss, finger decomposition, major toe swelling, like a lot of toe swelling, that might not sound like a big deal but wait until you see how big your toes get, scratchiness of the throat, throat loss, heart palpitations, and minor night screaming.
Also when we said hearing loss, we meant you’ll be able to hear loss. As plants age, as pets die, as marriages break apart or evolve or settle from a fluttering of hands to a loose intertwining of fingers, as children leave home to go wherever it is that children go after the age of ten, all of these common forms of loss, you will be able to hear. It will be deafening.
[end sped up audio]
Oh, we could go on all day about the ways our product will severely ruin you, physically and emotionally. But what are you going to do? Not buy it?
I think that you and your (for the moment) safe loved ones know that you will buy our product no matter what we say.
So, let’s not waste any more time. Our lawyer has stopped barking. Buy our product.
This has been another word from our sponsors.
I’m sorry, listeners. There is a knocking on my studio window. It is a man in a tan jacket, holding a deerskin suitcase. It is difficult to describe his features as they escape my mind the moment my eyes leave his face.
He is waving, indicating that he would like to come in and speak to me, and presumably, to all of you.
Yes, come in.
[door opens]
[a hum like ringing in the ears]
. . . but how would we even get there? I’ve never heard of that place. I . . .
I don’t remember what I was just saying. I think someone was just speaking to me and to all of you out there about something that seemed very important but . . . now. Now. I can’t remember. You all heard him, too. Do you remember what he said?
Why am I sweaty?
I think I remember him offering me a note, or some piece of paper. I didn’t take it. Maybe I should have taken it. I don’t know.
Speaking of notes, I am being handed another one by Intern Hannah. Hopefully it is better than the note she handed me this morning during the earlier section of this broadcast. It was such an awful note. (I don’t have to tell you, right?) So sad. Sad and awful. (You remember.) Also kind of funny, though. Just a pretty sad, awful, funny note, really.
But this note, it seems . . . oh no. No, no, no. It seems that once again, during this recent bit of missing time, brave radio host Cecil Palmer has stepped in and helped Mayor Cardinal fight off the Sand Golem and the angora rabbits.
Cecil, showing strength beyond his stature, held the Sand Golem down while Dana wiped away the writing on its forehead that gave it unnatural life, dispersing it to inanimate sand. And then we just kind of shooed the rabbits. They were just rabbits and even in great numbers were not threatening at all.
This left the mayor safe, with only a few bumps and bruises and a wrecked office covered with sand that probably will never be completely cleaned away. Certainly better than what hap
pened to the Sheriff. That poor man.
I am being told that Mayor Cardinal indicated deep gratitude for my help. I am being told this because I do not remember this. Because, I am certain now, the owner of Lot 37, the owner of Cecil Palmer, once again used me only to protect Dana. That is . . . I’ll have to think about what that is.
But first, a continuation of our previous Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
Children, it’s now time to go check on those glass vials we prepared earlier in the broadcast. If you mixed everything right and placed it in a warm, dry place like we told you to, you should be able to now observe the start of the tendrils. Don’t get close to them. Those tendrils have a strong grip. One could call their grip unbreakable, or even poisonous. You might also hear buzzing. Do you hear buzzing? Listen closely. Science is all about observation. Write down what the buzzing sounds like in detail. Draw a graph to show the buzzing. What that buzzing is telling you is that the thing in the vial has marked you as its prey. You need to run. You should have started running the moment you heard the buzzing. I’m sorry, I should have said that before the rest of the stuff.
If you don’t hear anything, then congratulations. You can move on to the second part of the experiment. Lay down plastic sheeting in the room and we’ll be back to give you the full instructions later.
This has been Part 2 of the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.
This day started bad, and it does not appear to be getting better anytime soon.
I, however unwillingly and unconsciously, helped the mayor fight off her attackers, and yet even that act was not enough to end this ordeal.
Hiram McDaniels, literal five-headed dragon, and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home, both former mayoral candidates, have taken City Hall once again captive. Hiram is preventing anyone from entering the front door using his massive body, fire breathing, and harsh language.
Mayor Cardinal has issued a statement through her mouth shouting out of an upper-floor window that the Faceless Old Woman is stalking her through City Hall. Dana can hear bare feet skittering across the hallway ceiling, can sense the memory of motion in the air when she turns, can feel breath on her neck, dry and cold, like breath never is.
“She has come for me,” Dana shouted, mayorally. “I will not be able to avoid her forever. I will not be able to do anything forever.”
Hiram, in response to questions asked by a group of lightly scorched Secret Police currently trying to tase and then arrest him, admitted that he and the Faceless Old Woman have been conspiring against the mayor for quite some time, convincing Pamela Winchell to enter a disastrous retirement, staging a blatantly consumerist Christmas display involving gift cards and an ancient monolith, freeing the antiques from their pen, funding the dig that led Harrison Kip to find the Sand Golem’s talisman, unsealing and freeing the army of tiny people under Lane 5 of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex this morning, working to sabotage the ultimately successful defense led by the Sheriff today against the tiny army, from which the Sheriff miraculously emerged unscathed, then causing the Saw Cyclone that swept through the Sheriff’s office, not injuring him at all but really messing up his draperies, and then finally sending the Sheriff an angry letter which resulted in the serious paper cut he is currently recovering from.
And now, all of these measures unsuccessful in removing Dana from power, Hiram and the Faceless Old Woman have been left with no choice but to attack the Mayor directly.
“Try to stop us,” said Hiram. “Just try.”
I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY, PUNY MORTALS roared another one of his heads, although not the one you’d think.
Well, certainly I won’t try. I’ve had enough of this mayor-saving business. My job is to report. That is what I do: reporting. That is why they call me what they call me: a journalist.
Now, let me report and only report. We are taking you all to the weaaaaaaaaaaaa—[turning into hypnotized drone]
[microphone drop; door slam]
WEATHER: “Heel Turn 2” by The Mountain Goats
Here I am, listeners. Whoever I am. Here it is, the me that is whichever me I am.
You can guess what happened, I think. Once again, it was brave Cecil who saved the mayor, throwing his body between her and the wrath of the Faceless Old Woman and Hiram. It was not an easy fight, and not an easy fight for me to remember.
Here is what I know: Hiram McDaniels is no longer at City Hall. With my help, the Secret Police almost apprehended him, but our efforts, while just enough to prevent his continued siege, were just under what was needed to capture a literal five-headed dragon, and in the scuffle Hiram disappeared. He could be anywhere. Svitz. Lemuria. The secret lost pet city on the moon. Or even still in Night Vale. Even that.
Here is what else I know: The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in All of Our Homes was unable to complete her malicious plans against our mayor, and is now secretly living in all of our homes still. She did not need to change anything in order to hide.
These two rebels, who are against the mayor rightfully chosen for us by forces we do not understand, will not rest quietly, I have no doubt of it. I know that there is more coming, as always. This is what I know.
Here is what I do not know: the owner of Lot 37. Who bought me at that auction and did nothing with their prize for so long only to now use me again and again with one purpose? To protect one person. Dana Cardinal. Mayor Cardinal. My friend.
Here is who I do not know but thought I did: Dana Cardinal. My friend. And, I am starting to fear, and I am starting to doubt, the owner of Lot 37. Could she be? Who else would be so invested in protecting her and only her?
Dana, is it you? Could it be? It couldn’t. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. But still. But still.
Ah.
Stay tuned next for Part 3 and Part 4 and many more parts, each succeeding moment after the one before, and some you will hear and some you will not, and none of them will be true, exactly, but all of them will be an honest attempt at the most accurate fiction possible.
Good night, to our recuperating Sheriff.
Good night, to a mayor I once thought I knew.
Good night to Old Woman Josie and the rest of the bowling team. I’ll see you at League Night.
And good night, Night Vale. Good night.
PROVERB:History is written by the victors, and then forgotten by the victors, and then the victors die too.
Episode 64:
“WE MUST GIVE PRAISE”
MARCH 15, 2015
IN 2017, WE WROTE AND TOURED A LIVE SHOW CALLED “ALL HAIL,” which was entirely about the Glow Cloud, who first appeared in Episode 2 of the podcast (more on that in a future volume of episodes).
From early on we knew that Night Vale characters needed to have strict continuity, which meant that they needed to grow and change. They needed to get older, even if (as is the case of Cecil Palmer, Jackie Fierro, Earl Harlan, and Lee Marvin) they can stay the same ages, for centuries sometimes.
This is true even in the case of the Glow Cloud, who controls minds and drops dead animals. This episode was sort of an early study of what eventually became “ALL HAIL.” The Glow Cloud is a sort of demigod in Night Vale, but it also is president of the school board. It’s a responsible and concerned member of its community, even if at times it abuses its power. Listen, we’ve all been assholes when it comes to accomplishing something we think is important. Let’s not judge.
These evolutions of character sort of undermine the Lovecraftian horror of early Night Vale episodes, and I’m perfectly fine with that. While Lovecraft’s stories undeniably influence anyone who writes in or near the horror genre, his was never an approach we wanted to replicate or honor. Lovecraftian horror is fear of the unknown or the strange. He was a noted racist and xenophobe and used these failures of his own humanity to ham-handedly craft spooky stories that didn’t build into a full narrative arc.
We like narrative arcs. There’s a lot of fun in eldritch h
orror, but there’s a lot of emotional reward in exploring the complexity of a stranger. Why not both?
—Jeffrey Cranor
Don’t judge a book by its cover. Judge it by the harmful messages it contains.
WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE
The enormous glowing cloud that serves as president of the Night Vale School Board announced a five-year strategic plan for the school district. The plan, put together over the past year by the twelve-member board, lays out new curriculum goals, organizational restructuring, and a comprehensive outline for eternal penitence before the mighty glow cloud.
Everyone present at the press conference fell to their knees and praised the Glow Cloud, their eyes solid white, gray smoky wisps swirling from their chanting mouths, hands clapping loudly in unison, as miniature glowing colorful clouds swept about them.
“CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE,” the Glow Cloud said. “WE MUST GIVE PRAISE, GIVE OUR LIVES, GIVE OUR ALL TO THE CHILD OF THE GLOWING CLOUD, TO THE SCION OF INCORPOREAL RULE. ALL HAIL. ALL HAIL. ALL HAIL.”
The crowd chanted along in worship of the Glow Cloud’s child, who is currently a freshman at Night Vale High School. The young cloud is an active member of both Show Choir and the Speechless Debate Team. Their education has long been an important part of the adult Glow Cloud’s leadership in the education community.
The Sheriff’s Secret Police in conjunction with several vague yet menacing government agencies are calling on all citizens to be on the lookout for two fugitives. Both Hiram McDaniels and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home are wanted by authorities for their recent attempts to usurp mayoral control of Night Vale.
Hiram is described as literally a five-headed dragon. He is eighteen feet tall and his heads are colored blue, green, gold, gray, and purple. They each have their own personality, sentience, memory, and distinct markings and features. The grey head often feels blue and wears a green nose ring. The blue head considers logic the gold standard of intellect and has purple eyes. The gold head is actually more of a sable and will talk till he’s blue in the face. The purple head has grown gray with paranoid fantasies and wears a gold neck chain that has a pendant with the word VIOLET written in green gemstones. And the green head is the real shouty one that wants to set everyone on fire all the time.