01/03/2017 14:51:21 ¶ ●

## Episode 103 - Ash Beach

We make money the old-fashioned way. We chemically convert lead into gold.

Welcome to Night Vale.

The Night Vale Tourism Board announced that after 12 years of super-fond site cleanup, Ash Beach reopened today to the public. The Tourism Board’s new brochure shows a young happy family having a picnic lunch and wearing respirator masks, building ash castles and flying kites against the blackened sky. We’re landlocked here in the desert with no body of water in sight, so back in the 1950’s, the city decided to create a public beach made entirely out of municipally burned books that were deemed too dangerous or too boring to reach.

Carlos and I are so excited about the reopening of the beach. We are already planning a trip in the next few weeks with the family. According to the Tourism Board, there will be a refurbished boardwalk there with food trucks and carnival games. Beachgoers can stroll down the pier and watch the surfers lie on their boards, as we all wait for the oceans to rise dramatically enough that Night Vale finally has a waterfront.

This Friday Night, Dark Owl Records will be hosting an album release party for Stevie Ray Vaughan’s new album called “Beyoncé”. Which is a collection of instrumental covers of Leonard Cohen’s greatest hits. Vaughan’s unique approach to music has always been to askew instruments altogether and simply read the name of each chord aloud. Vaughan will be at the store taking selfies with fans and asking everyone how he got here, and why he cannot hold tangible objects.

Sunday at the Rec Center is the annual gun show sponsored by the Night Vale chapter of the NRA. All patrons receive a free trucker hat that reads “Guns don’t kill people, unless you shoot those people with said gun and then they die. But other than that one specific situation, we’ve never known a gun to kill anybody.” Gun dealers from all over the United States will be at the show, selling handguns and hunting rifles and telling fantastical stories about a mythical government that would try, even in the slightest, to regulate gun ownership. The first 500 ticket buyers will have their government-implanted tracking chips surgically removed for free.

We’re getting reports that the grand re-opening of Ash Beach is going.. well, oh, not well as in good I mean well as in.. I’m not sure what to say next. So the beach, which is completely black and not at all connected to any body of water, is apparently really hot. And beachgoers are having a difficult time getting the dark ash stains off their burning skin. Also, there are reports of hazy humanoid figures emerging from the ash. They have long thin arms, gaping mouths with hundreds of tiny square teeth, round glowing eyes, and they shimmer in and out of visibility. Some witnesses reported hearing faint clicks and crunches, like someone rapidly chewing egg shells.

Amber Akinyi and Wilson Levy are celebrating their first wedding anniversary at Ash Beach today. They clam to have seen these ephemeral beings and moments later, experienced a flood of memories that never happened to them. Wilson remembered his wedding six years ago to his high school girlfriend Tanya. The memory was so clear, Tanya in her strapless white gown with ivory piping.. Ew. His best man Aiden accidentally dropping the ring and comically chasing it as it rolled into the third row. The string trio playing Pachelbel’s “Hey Ya” as ushers escorted guests into seats and pushed the safety bars down firmly over their shoulders. But Wilson claimed he never knew anyone named Tanya and was never married to anyone before Amber. Telling this story, he had tears in his eyes. The fond memory of the wedding he never had still fresh in his mind.

Amber remembered a vacation resort a few miles from Mount Kilimanjaro. She was only eight years old, she was standing outside the resort near her mother’s Toyota pickup truck. Her mother was speaking in Luau to an elderly couple. The couple said they wanted to ride to a camp checkpoint at the base of the mountain. Her mother offered them a ride as she was going to the same place. Amber, her mother, and the couple shared the cramped bench seat, as they rode toward the cloud-shrouded peak. The couple smelled like coffee and brand new sleeping bags. They offered Amber some kashata and told her about different types of birds.

Amber said that she had never been to Tanzania and that her mother passed away when Amber was only three. Nor does Amber believe in mountains, nor does she know what kashata is, and she doesn’t know a single word of Luau, so the memory could not be real. But she could understand the Luau in her memory, and could taste the soft coconut crunch of the kashata.

Wilson brushed Amber’s cheek and she kissed his wrist. They both cried quietly as they laid out some small shovels and buckets, rubbed UV protective lotion on their arms, unfolded beach chairs and elected a large umbrella.

More on this story as it develops.

Good news, listeners. Five-headed dragon Hadassah McDaniels and her legion of dragon lawyers, from whatever dragon world they’re from, have stopped crushing local businesses. And eating pets. And setting fire to public parks. The bad news is that we’re not certain what the dragons are doing right now. No one has seen them in over a week. It’s like when you see a spider and then you turn your head, and when you look back, that spider is gone. And that is the true definition of horror, because you don’t know where that spider is, and you miss it so much. It was a really cute spider!

The dragons were last seen visiting the Terrible Court of the Distant Prince. It was difficult to say for certain that it was the Distant Prince, because those who saw this visitation said it happened quite a long way away. Witnesses reported that they definitely saw the dragons talking with what looked like a young man wearing a crown, his form blurred as though moving quickly, even though he was standing still. But he was partially hidden by harbingers, as well as court shriekers and mangled servants. The witnesses did not mention seeing any hollow-eyed weepers, so it may not have been the Distant Prince at all. Maybe a Distant Viscount. At best, a Distant Earl. A Distant Countess, even?

Listeners. Old Woman Josie’s daughter Alondra wanted me to thank everyone for all of the good wishes and gifts to her and her dying mother. She asked that people please stop sending flowers though. She has nowhere to put them. And plus, flowers are sort of gross. “You realize that flowers are just water and manure and seeds and dirt,” Alondra Ortiz said. “They look and smell nice but just remember what the smell is made of. Gross! Stop it,” she said. Then she added, “I mean if you already sent flowers, they’re beautiful, thank you.” And then she rolled her eyes.

Carlos and I visited Josie last Saturday. We brought her and Alondra a framed photo of Josie breaking ground at the New Old Night Vale Opera House. For a picture that’s only a couple years old, Josie looks so young. It’s her smile, I think. Her smile never aged. In the photo, she’s wearing a hardhat, orange construction vest, tanned jodhpurs, and five-toed running shoes. She’s holding a shovel filled with dirt in front of a sign that says “Opera House: coming soon!” She was so proud of Night Vale that day. I showed the picture to Josie who was lying in her bed, eyes open. She didn’t respond. I wish I had visited sooner, but I was glad to have seen her again before she leaves us. Carlos patted her hand and I kissed her forehead. I said, “Josie, Carlos and I love you. As does Alondra. As do all of the angels.” And at this point, I heard the citywide “angels acknowledged” sirens go off, but I didn’t care. There were angels all over her house! There have been for years, and I’m sort of tired of pretending they’re not there. “The angels love you and will take care of you, Josie,” I said loudly over the sound of the blaring sirens, and I think I saw that young smile gently touch the corners of her dry pursed mouth.

In lieu of flowers, might I recommend donations to the Opera House in Josie’s name? Or any place that supports the arts. Nothing would make her happier.

We’re getting more updates from Ash Beach. Everyone at the beach today is covered in dark ashes, their skin burning, the sun muted by a cloud of char. They have all seen the waggling, hazy figures that fade in and out of sight. The figures open their long mouths and point their spindly arms at people, and those people in turn experience vibrant memories that never happened. Frances Donaldson, manager of the Antiques Mall, said she remembered winning a silver medal for figure skating in the Olympic games, but she’s never even seen ice in real life. Green Market Co-opt Board president, Tristan Cortez, said when the figures on the beach pointed at him, he remembered being lost in the wilderness with a Golden Retriever friend of his. They were soon joined by a Himalayan cat. They were all homeward bound, sharing an incredible journey together. But that never happened! Tristan said it was actually a Bullterrier and a Siamese cat, and that this new memory is false.

John Peters, you know, the farmer, said he had a striking memory of his brother, Jim. The memory was from only two days ago. Jim was cleaning out the tractor shed with John. John said it was unusually warm for late winter and they were both getting tired. It was almost noon, and John wanted to break for lunch but Jim said, “Hey Johnnie, look at what I found!” John said Jim held up an old football. “It’s from when we was kids, Johnnie!” Jim said of a memory instigated by a physical object inside John’s memory from today of something that didn’t happen earlier this week. John and Jim went out into their untilled fields of imaginary corn and tossed the ball around for nearly an hour. John said he wished this memory was real. His brother’s been off serving in the blood space war for nearly 40 years now. “He probably ain’t even arrived at whatever planet he’s supposed to fight yet. What with the, destructive limitations on matter as it approaches the speed of light,” John said, sadly reminiscing about his long-lost sibling. “I bet they gotta be in a kinda frozen space sleep or something like in that documentary, ‘Aliens’,” he added.

Listeners, if you’re at Ash Beach, try not to look at the thin beings coming up from the ashes. Hide from their pointing hands, and above all, do not trust the memories they fill your mind with. They are untrue, they are fever dreams. They. Are. Lies.

Wait, in fact I’m just now getting word from witnesses that large waves are crashing down on Ash Beach. There’s no indication where the water is coming from as Night Vale, again, is in a desert. Some beachgoers began tearing hoods off cars and using them as surf boards. Someone has spelled out “HELP LOST” in seaweed, but the crashing waves washed it all away. Many people are being dragged out into a nonexistent sea by a dangerous undertow. Where is this water coming from? Until we know for certain, stay away from ash beach.

More soon, but now the weather.

[“Faded” by P.O.S. feat Lady Midnight, doomtree.net/pos]

The tide has ebbed, the beach is clear. The ashes are gone, washed out to.. well. Oh, not well as in I don’t know what to say in next, I meant well as in an old well, that appeared in the same spot it had stood two summers ago, draining the water into it in a direct reversal of a well’s usual role and then vanishing again, as old well’s often do.

Well. Ash Beach is neither ash nor beach anymore. Simply a great expanse of sand and less and dry. Those who saw the shimmering apparitions said the memories they were given are as real as ever. They were not merely daydreams, nor vivid hallucinations, they are actual events that never happened.

Simone Rigideau, the transient who lives in the Earth Sciences Building of the Night Vale Community College and who recently began teaching courses there, much to the chagrin of the college administration, said she was at Ash Beach today and she saw the figures. She saw their pointing, wriggling translucent appendages, she saw their numerous flat teeth in their long gray mouths, she saw their bulbous white eyes, she heard the sound of crunching like chewing egg shells, and she had a memory. She remembered the college campus. She remembered it was 1983. She remembered students with boomboxes, Trans-Am muscle cars. She remembered the news anchors that day, Tim and Trin, with their feathered-hair double-Windsor neckties, shoulder pads, and deep maroon nail polish. She remembered the news of missiles already launched, apologies for a miscommunication, a mistake in a training drill. Apologies not accepted. Missiles launched to retaliate. She remembered the news anchors Tim and Trin trying not to cry, trying to report the news. She remembered students and faculty gathered around the television, trying not to cry, trying to receive the news. She remembered… the world ending. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with silence. The absence of thought and feeling. Everyone went missing all at once together – time, body, memory… gone.

Simone then said she remembered something else, from the new memory she received today. A woman with a deer mask had appeared on the television screen, her face flickering through the loud static and obscuring the faces of Tim and Trin. She spoke in a language unknown to Simone but… she recognized the name of the woman. Huntokar.

[cheerfully] “Oh, I know Huntokar,” I said. “She did this, Cecil,” Simone said. “Huntokar is super weird,” I said, “makes sense that she would be behind this whole ‘Ash Beach’ thing.” “I’m not talking about the beach,” Simone said. “Then what are you talking about?” I said. “She is the destroyer!” Simone said, shaking her head. Simone said she remembered the world ending, it was so clear, so vivid. But it did not end. She touched my arm and said that we are here. How are we here? I told Simone, “You always say the world ended in 1983, I don’t see how this is so special for you.” She said, “I knew it ended. I just couldn’t remember it ending. Now I do. The world ended, Cecil, I saw it on the news!” “Oh then it must be true,” I said. “Are you being sarcastic?” she asked. “Why would I do that?” I replied. “I still can’t tell if you are or not,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. I don’t understand what she was getting at.

Whatever our truth, Night Vale, you can feel your body. Hear my voice. See the sunlight through dissipating ash clouds. I do not know if we are real. But we are alive. We are tangible, feeling, and whole.

Stay tuned next for the sound of something trying to dig its way out of your chest.

Good night, Night Vale, good night.

Today’s proverb: if you’re not wearing a denim vest, then this conversation is over.

12/03/2017 17:25:01 ¶ ●

## Member-only bonus episodes

We’ve had some requests, so here’s the response.

We will not be posting transcripts of the bonus episodes. They are only meant for members, and it wouldn’t be fair to share them in public. Donations keep the show going and the rewards need to be exclusive.

However, we don’t want donors to miss out in case they’re hard of hearing, non-native English speakers, etc. So for donors who want the transcript, we can send it to you via email.

Email us at cecilspeaks@outlook.com. We need to see proof that you’re a donor. You can prove it by forwarding the email from WTNV with the link. The link will not be abused; I’m a donor, so I got the same email. Your information (real name, email etc.) will be kept confidential. We will only use them to send you the transcript. Only us admins have access to the email. We trust that you don’t post the transcript in public.

The transcript for bonus episode 2 is available now.

-Willow (cecilbaldwin-fan)

15/03/2017 15:55:06 ¶ ●

## Episode 104 - The Hierarchy of Angels

I know you are, but what am I? What am I? What am I?

What. Am. I?

Welcome to Night Vale.

I should start today with something happy. In his speech yesterday honoring the life of Old Woman Josie, Larry Leroy out on the edge of town, and Josie’s closest neighbor, told a story about his pickup breaking down a few years ago. Josie had stopped on the roadside to help him push the old Chevy the mile or so to his house. In the last few hundred feet, the truck picked up momentum on the sloped road, and it rolled out of their control into a large cactus. They heard a surprised yelp, and saw Telly the Barber wide-eyed and sweating, holding a pair of shears. Josie and Larry laughed and laughed. Even the surprised Telly laughed. Larry then asked Telly why he was cutting that cactus’ hair. Telly gulped and ran away, still laughing and sweating profusely.

Larry told the gathered mourners that he didn’t have many friends in town, but Old Woman Josie was always kind to him. Always a smile, always happy to help. Always good for a giggle when she caught Telly giving cacti haircuts.

The services were beautiful, you know that. You were all there. We were all there. I know I said gathered mourners but in a way, we were gathered celebrants, extolling the great life of a great woman, now gone. Today is the scattering of her ashes and the city is working to fulfil Josie’s wishes. They are joined in this endeavour by several beings claiming to be angels. The city is trying to ignore the angels’ request to help because it is illegal to acknowledge the existence of angels, so… we’ll see how this goes.

The dozens of five-headed dragons, who came to our world after the botched, yet partially successful execution of fellow dragon Hiram McDaniels, are still in town. Hiram’s sister, Hadassah, had promised vengeance for the wrongful murder of Hiram’s violet head. But after several weeks of setting fire to local businesses, and devouring a few of the more muscular human citizens, the dragons have gone mostly silent. Their aggression’s now limited to some blatant jaywalking and loitering. There has been one report of an unidentified five-headed dragon hurling a crumpled Fresca can basketball-style at a trash bin, missing the trash bin wildly, and then picking the soda can up and gently tossing it into the bin, only to have it clumsily fall out and back onto the ground. Onlookers were shocked to see that the dragon did not even attempt a third put-back, and the can is still lying on the ground this very moment. The can is still. On the ground. Mayor Cardinal has called on the Sheriff for stricter enforcement of minor offenses, so they do not escalate into more sinister crimes. Plus, she added, if we do not clean litter from our curbs, the street cleaners might show up, and we simply cannot afford the loss of innocent lives that would cause. More on this as it develops.

Josie’s daughter Alondra Ortiz, who came to town last year to be with her ailing mother until Josie passed away, is now sorting through Josie’s estate and documents. Alondra said she found no will in Josie’s files, only a piece of paper that said: “It all belongs to the angels.” But Alondra noted the handwriting was written shakily in thick Magic Marker, and every word but “it” and “the” was misspelled. She believes the beings who claim to be angels wrote this, not her mother. The angels responded, “nuh-uh”, and then nervously wiped their brows with clearly ink-stained hands. Alondra hired in an estate lawyer to help sort out liquidation of her mother’s assets. Alondra said she just wants to be done with all this and go back home. When asked where home was, Alondra responded, “I don’t remember. Why can’t I remember? That’s not important, I mean it’s super-important but not to this discussion. Oh god, what is wrong with me, with this town?” A single-engine plane then flew across the horizon behind her, trailing a banner that read, “Ooooh! I found some teeth!”

Listeners, some of you have asked about our intern, Kareem. He’s been at the station for so long, about 16 months, much longer than any other intern in recent memory. Well, I’m sorry to report he’s no longer with us. He was a good intern and he will be missed. Kareem changed majors from communications to Earth sciences and no longer needs this radio internship. He is taking classes with Professor Simone Rigideau at Night Vale Community College. Simone is not actually employed by NVCC, and in one of Kareem’s last journalistic endeavours here at the station, he even found a copy of her death certificate, dated 1983, although she does not show any signs of being a ghost. But apparently her knowledge of Earth sciences intrigued Kareem enough that he wanted to change career trajectories. Kareem told me on his last day, which was today, like five minutes before I started my broadcast is when I find out about this. He told me Simone knows what happened to Night Vale, why Kareem’s family doesn’t know him anymore, and why he can’t find Mitchigan, or whatever is home state is, on a map. I’m just happy Kareem is pursuing his dreams, even if he’s gonna lose alll those journalism credits! And today’s filing will have to be done by an overworked radio host before he gets to go home to his husband. Gonna be a looong path to that degree, Kareem! I’m sure you’ll do great.

Listeners, I’d like to caution you away from driving near downtown. Road crews have shut down all streets in all directions, as a construction team is building a series of elaborate rollercoasters and amusement park rides, many of which do dives and loops around, under, and through the surrounding buildings and even roads. It’s complete gridlock all over downtown, with cars unable to drive into or out of the jam. On the plus side, there’s a pretty cool looking Aquaman ride that does a double-twisting loop through a large pool of water that is elevated more than 50 feet off the ground. Mayor Cardinal is on the scene arguing with the construction team about their lack of development permits. The construction crew, who are all tall glowing beings with wings, showed the Mayor a piece of paper that said, “This is all totally fine, Josie said we can build this, OK? Signed, City”, written in a Magic Marker and nearly every word misspelled.

Allondra Ortiz’ lawyer, Emilio Tavarez, filed an injunction to halt the work, saying that the funds used toward the construction of these rollercoasters were part of Josie’s estate, and were being misappropriated by the so-called angels. There is no documentation showing Josie wished her money to be spent this way, Tavarez explained. The construction team then mumbled, “A dummy says what?” And Tavarez said, “What?” and they all laughed, including the Mayor who then added, “Yeah but yeah seriously, you need building permits, even if you are fulfilling the elaborate wishes of the deceased.” We’ll have more on this soon, but first, a quick break.

Hi, this is Cecil. Leave a message!

Steve Carlsberg: Hello, Cecil? It’s Steve. OK, I’m not sure if you’re there or not. Last few times I called, you said to leave a message at the tone, and then halfway into my message you interrupted me and said, [Cecil impersonation] “Ha ha, Steve. You fell for it again.” So I’m just making sure you’re actually there this time. I have something I wanted to tell you so you could report it on your show. Are you there, Cecil? I don’t wanna fall for your trick again.

OK. Well. I was getting some coffee over at the Spiky Hammer, and I held the door for this woman I didn’t recognize. She just stared at me, didn’t say thank you or anything. I mean, I don’t hold doors for approval, it’s just a nice thing to do, but she efforted to not thank me, you know? And then when I stood in line, she stood right next to me, her face just inches from mine, staring at me. I tried not to look, it’s not nice to stare. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, but right as I placed my order, a large crab legs macchiato with (quad shot) and whipped cream, she started whispering loudly in my ear! I couldn’t understand what she was saying, and it made it difficult to talk to the barista. And then, when I turned to ask her politely if she wanted me to get her something, she was gone. Oh I wish I could remember what the woman said. Oh gosh. It was something like, hmmmmmmmmmm..

[voice distorts] The Woman from Italy has come back to town. Nothing can stop her from tearing it down! She lives for your screams, makes meals of your tears. She revels in chaos and deals in your fears.

We all huddle and hide from the pain yet to come, huddled hidden with loved ones, perhaps she’ll spare some.

She brings the torture, the trouble, the stress, so can you order for her a double espresso?

[normal voice] Well I don’t remember what she said. If I think of it, I’ll call you back. Anyway, sorry I missed you Cecil!

Cecil: I’m here, Steve! You totally fell for it.

Steve: Oh, oh! Oh-ho-ho-ho, you got me!

Cecil: Basic stuff, Steve.

Steve: Sure is! Wow, you got me good! [chuckles]

Cecil: I tease you because I love you, Steve.

Steve: Aww, Cecil. I love you too, big brother!

Cecil: Just kidding, I’m not here! Please leave your message after the tone. [beep]

Steve: Hello? Cecil, I’m not sure what just happened. I guess I’ll try again later.

–

Sorry of the interruption. Oh, looks like I got a voicemail. Oh, it’s from Steve Carlsberg. Well, never mind, there’s breaking news right now.

Stay far away from downtown, listeners. The traffic jam caused by the halted construction project is in great danger. The cars are honking noisily, people are abandoning their vehicles, but the Sheriff is asking everyone to seek immediate shelter. Several dragons are converging on the scene. The dragons have everyone in the congested area completely surrounded. They are walking – no, stomping toward the helpless citizens trapped in traffic. Night Vale, do not go out on the roads. The dragons have us exactly where they want us. What a disastrous trap! Be safe.

And as I try to find out more on what’s happening in downtown, please hear this important weather report.

[“Qualified” by Sammus feat. Open Mike Eagle, sammusmusic.bandcamp.com]

Here is the secret hierarchy of angels.

Deceased humans can become angels, but few humans do. Angels are immortal beings, but not all of them are former human souls. Some are animals, some plants. Some outdated electronics.

They are all named Erika with a K. All angels are equal to all other angels. They share all memories and all physical sensations. They experience everything simultaneously. Their minds are overwhelmed with enlightenment and pain.

They have no centralized leadership, but they do have committees, lots of committees. These committees do not have titles nor objectives. The committees simply emerge as needed.

Angels are wealthy, but do not understand currency. They will often ask to borrow 10 bucks.

Angels have no bodies, only visual projections of winged, barely humanoid forms. These forms are dreamed up by those who see and acknowledge them, and may vary based on the viewer.

The secret hierarchy of angels is an ethereal mass of feelings and thoughts made manifest by necessity. They’re only individual beings because we imagine them so, but they are collectively beings.

It is illegal to speak of or acknowledge in any way the secret hierarchy of angels. But. I. will. Acknowledge it. here, on the radio. I’m an objective journalist, which does not mean I have no morals or opinions, just that I can be self-aware of my biases and emotions, yet still report a story transparently to you. You may not agree with my point of view, but I will do. My. Best. To give you the information you need to decide that on your own.

In the case of the angels, I acknowledge them. I see them! And because Josie always said such, I too believe that they are real beings, and are entitled to Josie’s estate. So does five-headed dragon Miriam Adelman. She’s a lawyer, and the angels hired her to represent their case for management of Josie’s will.

Oh, the dragons did not do any harm to those in traffic today. They were simply the legal team coming to help facilitate Josie’s final wish, which was to build a Night Vale sculpture garden, complete with the usual rollercoasters and tilt-a-whirls, and an enormous ferris wheel.

Josie wanted to have her ashes scattered underneath (Jacobo Manzu’s) [0:22:17] famous sculpture, “Top Thrill Dragster”, which is a 400-foot drop and reaches over 120 miles per hour. Adelman and her legal team managed to push through the sculpture garden construction, which is now complete, and Josie’s ashes have finally been honored in the way she wanted. Alondra ceded this ground because she understood how important this town was to Josie. But she added, “My mother’s home, her belongings, her money, her legacy – these are all I have of my family. I have no siblings, no cousins, and no parents. I am the only Ortiz left. I do not know or understand Night Vale,” Alondra said. “I do not believe in angels, nor dragons for that matter, I just want what is left of my mother’s memory, and then I want to go home, wherever that is.” The city has declined to hear further arguments about estate ownership from Adelman or her angel clients, as the dragons are not licensed to practice law anywhere on this Earth, and their clients, the angels, don’t legally exist.

The secret hierarchy of angels is a cloud of knowledge, formed from the collected experiences of the deceased. Josie might be among them now, or she might know. All I know is that Josie loved Night Vale and we loved her.

I am going to go to the sculpture garden today to pay my respects. Carlos and I will hold hands and lay flowers at the ash-strewn base of (Manzu’s) towering masterpiece of contemporary sculpture. And then, we will purchase a souvenir photo of ourselves screaming in joy and sorrow, while engaged in a 120-mile per hour freefall, demonstrating our fervent arts adovacy, exactly as Josie would have wanted.

I hope all of you will join me in honoring not only the life of Josefina Ortiz, but the lives of the angels who loved her too.

Stay tuned next for hosts Josh and Chuck and their wildly popular show, “Stuff You Shouldn’t Know”, which as usual will be an unbroken reduction beep for 30 straight minutes. No one has ever heard Josh or Chuck speak.

And as always, good night, Night Vale.

Josie was beautiful and angels are real!

Good night.