17/06/2014 6:07:00 ¶ ●

## Episode 49 - Old Oak Doors Part A

Meg Bashwiner: And now, listeners of every kind, the voi–

Lauren Mallard: I’m so sorry, are we interrupting something? I’m sure it’s nothing important.

The sun is bright, the moon is irrelevant, and we are light and light and light and light.

We’re light.

Listeners, this is Lauren Mallard, Vice President of StrexCorp, owner…I mean…community supporter of the Night Vale and Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area.

I’m here with Kevin, who has been a radio host for Night Vale’s sister city, Desert Bluffs, for…how long has it been, Kevin?

Kevin: I can’t say!

Lauren Mallard: Kevin, don’t be modest! You are the voice of our community!

Kevin: I literally am incapable of saying, Lauren.

Lauren Mallard: Kevin and I are broadcasting from a secret location because of some…recent changes to the town of Night Vale.

Kevin: StrexCorp…StrexCorp was in the process of bringing together the two cities, but there was some…

Lauren Mallard: Miscommunication.

Kevin: Yessss. Thank you, Lauren. You’re so helpful with your words.

…Miscommunication, and now the little town of Night Vale is…upset.

Lauren Mallard: We tried to bring them endless searing sunshine and delicious transdimensional orange juice and adorable furry pets with adorable gnashing teeth!

Kevin: I love my StrexPet, Lauren! [Laughs] Oh, it is the cutest! I take it for walks, I throw sticks at it, I tell it my worst secrets! I feed it mice every night before bed.

Lauren Mallard: Oh, no. They’re not supposed to eat mice, Kevin.

Kevin: I’ve trained it to! It took some weeks, but…it is accepting its meals now.

Lauren, did you know that in Night Vale, people are not even allowed to visit the public Dog Park?

Lauren Mallard: Right! You know what? They can’t– also cannot eat wheat or wheat by-products!

Kevin: Delicious wheat! Delicious by-products!

Lauren Mallard: Or have computers or writing utensils! And their community radio interns keep having…accidents. Or, in the case of that intern Dana, meeting her own double, one of them killing the other…

Kevin: Oh!

Lauren Mallard: …and then the remaining one (not sure if it’s her or her double) being trapped for over a year in a strange…“other” desert world where she’s been making trouble for us with an unruly pack of angels, and, um, masked warriors. Ugh. It’s…a very beautiful, but very unproductive town, not reaching its full productive potential.

Kevin: My grandmother used to embroider pillows with the phrase, “REACH YOUR FULL PRODUCTIVE POTENTIAL!” I loved those pillows so much, she sold one to me!

Lauren Mallard: That’s sweet. That is a good story, Kevin. Hmm.

So, we at StrexCorp, not wanting our neighbors to flounder under the oppressive terror and darkness, brought bright yellow helicopters here to rid the town of all its terrible horrors. The weird shape in Grove Park that kills people if you look at it, or talk about it, uh, the Hooded Figures that infiltrate everyone’s deepest fears and dreams, the Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agencies that record everyone’s conversations, and the glowing cloud that drops dead animals, the rip in time that allowed dinosaurs to come through!

Kevin: Pteranodons are not dinosaurs, Lauren! They are arachnids!

Lauren Mallard: You are right.

Kevin: No, you are right! It is hard to get work done in such a dystopia.

Lauren Mallard: Right?

Kevin: Right?

Lauren Mallard: Right?

Kevin: Right!

And then they just allow that teenage girl, what was her name? Tamika…to start a militia!

Lauren Mallard: Well, luckily she’s in prison.

Kevin: And then, they bring these ugly scientists to study things that should not be studied!

Lauren Mallard: Luckily, he’s trapped in the same desert “other” world as Intern Dana!

Kevin: Lauren, I think…I think maybe this is our fault!

Lauren Mallard: How so, Kevin?

Kevin: We loved Night Vale…too much.

Lauren Mallard: We cared for them more than they could understand!

Kevin: We showed them sympathy beyond which they could receive.

Lauren Mallard: Let’s show them empathy.

Kevin: [Gasp] Yessss! Empathy!

Lauren Mallard: Did you hear that, Night Vale? No more sympathy from StrexCorp. No more emotional symbiosis. We will give you empathy. We will give you the room to understand what you need. But, what you need is sunshine, and structure, and jobs!

Kevin: They don’t want a handout, they want a hand around their neck! In a show of friendly solidarity! A strong pat on the neck.

Lauren Mallard: Let us show you empathy in a handful of dust, Night Vale.

Kevin: Just…look at all this empathy!

Lauren Mallard: Look at it!

Kevin: Look at it every day.

Lauren Mallard: Look at it forever.

OK, um, talk to you all again soon, sorry for interrupting whatever this…silly little thing is.

Meg Bashwiner: As I was saying. And now, listeners of every kind, the voice of Night Vale, Cecil Baldwin!

Cecil: Think back.

Look forward.

Listen timelessly.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello, listeners. I speak to you now from the one spot in Night Vale that remains truly ours. The studios of the Night Vale Community Radio station. I have learned well from my misunderstanding about how barricading a door works, and so I have – for two weeks – managed to keep this studio free of StrexCorp influences and employees.

But, enough of the preamble. Now, to the amble.

Today is the day. There is only one thing for today, and that is the destruction of the hated StrexCorp, and freeing our town of Night Vale. We will work no longer. We will worship a Smiling God no longer. We have failed before, we have failed so many times at so many tasks, but at this, we will not fail.

I hope.

I mean, I really, really, hope that we will not fail.

In any case, we will be devoting all of today’s broadcast to the revolution with no interruptions.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Excuse me?

Cecil: Um…uhh, excuse me…

Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: Cease speaking or I will cease your speaking for you!

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Easy there, Green Head.

Cecil: Oh, um, listeners, I’m sorry, uh, mayoral candidate and literal five-headed dragon Hiram McDaniels has just burst into the studio.

Faceless Old Woman: I am also here.

Cecil: Did someone just speak?

Faceless Old Woman: Yes, it’s me, the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home.

Cecil: Aaah.

Faceless Old Woman: I’m crouched in the crawlspace under your studio right now. There are many interesting insects and pipes down here.

Well, it is great to have you both, but listen, there’s this revolution…

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Listen, Cecil?

Cecil: To do, and…

Faceless Old Woman: Uh, far be it from me to get in the way of your revolution…

Cecil: Uh.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: I’m all for liberty.

Hiram McDaniels’ Purple Head: tree of liberty must be periodically watered with blood and mulched with detached limbs and pruned using shears made from bones! It’s my favorite tree!

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: I hear you, Purple Head, but, uh…

Faceless Old Woman: Uh, We are here because you are forgetting the most important thing that is happening today. Today is election day. Today is that day when finally Night Vale citizens will be able to affect change. Or, not affect change, but they will be affected by it.

Cecil: Sure! Um, well, there is also an election today! And we will certainly cover that as well, OK? But, for now, please go stand in the alley behind City Hall and await the results, as is traditional.

Faceless Old Woman: Thanks, Cecil.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Absolutely, thank you very much. Check back in with you soon.

Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: Yes! What my gold head said! Pitiful whelp of a man!

Cecil: Let us go immediately to the news.

Many citizens are reporting that old oak doors with brass knobs have been appearing all over town. The doors open onto a desert landscape quite like this one. Through these doors are arriving tall creatures with long faces and broad wings. These creatures are difficult to categorize, but the best I can do is “definitely not angels.”

The not-at-all angelic creatures are joined by enormous men and women wearing masks. The not-angels and the masked army have torn down the electric fences trapping the people at the StrexCorp company picnic. And this is great news, but unfortunately, the news is not over.

StrexCorp has responded with a seemingly unending force of eyeless, blood-drenched office workers, dressed in smart, but affordable, business casual clothing and armed with jagged knives and toothy smiles. They are backed by a swarm of yellow helicopters that have filled the sky and yet, strangely, have not blotted out the sun. In fact, the sun seems brighter than ever. Unnaturally bright, if a ball of highly compacted gas that sustains life through mere proximity could ever be called natural. Ha!

The horrible smiling office workers have driven the tall winged creatures and the masked army back from the picnic. The Strex force is too much for even these rescuers from another world to handle. Whatever unspecified powers they have are unspecifically not enough. And they are, quite specifically, losing. They are fleeing. Some have fallen as the ravenous office workers swarm over them.

The angels – or, you know…not-angels – have entered the Juvenile Detention Center looking for a certain little girl. No…a young woman. No…a human being, and her well-trained militia of other human beings. But the cell that once contained Tamika Flynn was empty. Instead, there were only shackles that had been pulled completely apart, and the words “I AM FOUND!” written on a bookmark lain across page 210 of a paperback copy of Leonard Cohen’s Book of Longing.

The current whereabouts of Tamika Flynn are not known. The winged creatures, who are all named Erika, and the army of masked giants have continued their retreat before the onslaught of eyeless office workers all the way past the Old Town Drawbridge.

Listeners, given the urgency of today, um, I– I planned to skip some of our regular features as well as sponsored ads, but…since forcing out our current ownership, we’ve…gotten a bit behind on our bills. So there’s now a sentient patch of haze in my studio!

Deb: Hello, Cecil! Hello, listeners! My name is Deb.

Cecil: And Deb won’t actually leave my studio until she has told us all about…um…what are you promoting?

Deb: Whole Foods!

Cecil: Ah, right! So, even though we’ve got this whole big revolution to do, let’s take a moment to listen to Deb, the Sentient Patch of Haze, about…um…

Deb: Whole Foods!

Cecil: Yes.

Deb: Thanks, Cecil.

At Whole Foods, we don’t have any rotting, decaying matter mixed into our products. There are no secret blood rooms in our stores, where we keep the secret blood.

Cecil: Hmm.

Deb: None of the boxes of cereal contain spiders. And if they did, they would be very friendly, helpful spiders. Boy, wouldn’t you be lucky to find a spider like that in a box of Whole Foods cereal! Or, not just one…hundreds of them. But anyway, you won’t.

Whole Foods serves only the freshest food, and we certainly do not keep venomous snakes under the fruit in our produce section! Why would we? That would be dangerous, and not good for business. No on has died of a snake bite at Whole Foods. No one you know.

Whole Foods. Why in the world would we poison our frozen dinners? We definitely do not do that!

Cecil: Well, thanks Deb!

Deb: Oh, no, thank you, Cecil! Good luck with whatever you got goin’ on here. Seems uninteresting and human.

Cecil: Oh, OK. Um, well, goodbye Deb!

Listeners, I– I apologize for these noises you might be getting. There is some other radio signal, it’s interfering with our own…

Lauren Mallard: Cecil, hi! It’s Lauren Mallard.

Kevin: Sorry to interrupt!

Lauren Mallard: Kevin and I just had to break into your signal, we wanted a moment to talk with you. Gently talking solves a lot of things!

Kevin: Violent revolution has never solved anything!

Cecil: I beg to differ. America was founded on a revolution. And, I mean, sure, we still are ruled by the Reptilians, but…the Lizard Kings let us have our own country after they saw how hard we tried during that revolution thing!

Lauren Mallard: That was decades ago, Cecil! Anyway, we want to know what we can do to keep your business. We here at StrexCorp Synernists, Inc. are dedicated to the betterment of life through branding, social networking, and upbeat music.

Kevin: And hard work!

Lauren Mallard: Mmm. I’m pretty sure it’s implied that hard work is part of it, Kevin.

Kevin: I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for your feedback.

Lauren Mallard: Cecil? StrexCorp values the effort you put into making this station what it was.

Cecil: [Clears throat]

Lauren Mallard: Is. What it is. But, when employees are refusing to participate in our trust exercises, and boycotting our products, and attacking us with our own helicopters, then I think we have failed our mission statement.

Cecil: And…what is your mission statement?

Kevin: This!

[Muffled sound plays]

Lauren Mallard: We got so caught up in thinking about our business that we didn’t think…we didn’t think…(we didn’t use their brains)…We didn’t think about the people. People matter at StrexCorp! They matter because of the business! Mmm-hmm! We’re here to set things right.

First thing’s first. We will rebuild the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation area, and divert thousands of gallons of necessary drinking water from other towns to provide it with its namesake. We will also fill in the giant hole out back of the Ralph’s.

Cecil: But where will the people who huddle there go to huddle?

Lauren Mallard: Oooh, Cecil. You are simply resistant to change. Your revolution is cute. Community togetherness is adorable. But money…money is power. We will invest–

Kevin: …are currently investing…

Lauren Mallard: …to make Night Vale a better place to live.

Kevin: Thus increasing the resale value!

Lauren Mallard: Also, we know everyone fears libraries in Night Vale, which is why StrexCorp will tear down the library, destroy the dangerous librarians, and replace it with StrexBooks Purchase Centers!

Tamika Flynn: Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare try talking about books!

Cecil: Tamika! Is that you?

Tamika Flynn: Yes. I– I found their secret location using a radio triangulation technique I learned by reading an anthology of Emily Dickinson poems.

Kevin: Lauren? Be careful, she has a slingshot and a heavy-looking edition of John Osborne’s play Look Back in Anger!

Lauren Mallard: Thank you, Kev, but I will happily deal with this myself. I just so happen to have my own slingshot, and an extremely heavy edition of the Strex Employee Handbook.

Kevin: Well, Lauren? You have the situation under control! I’m just going to go and oversee some important things elsewhere. Let me know if – when you take care of this child.

Tamika Flynn: I love books. Take that book you’re holding! It looks ill-written, ill-conceived, full of bad ideas expressed badly…I bet it lacks narrative arcs and an appreciation for the flow of language. It looks like the worst book in the history of books! But here’s the thing…it’s still a book. And I love books. So, you do not deserve to even hold it.

Lauren Mallard: Then come and get it!

Cecil: Tamika, stay alert!

Lauren Mallard: Let me throw some ideas at you!

Tamika Flynn: Ugh!

Lauren Mallard: Hahaha! Hahaha! Yes!

Cecil: Tamika? Tamika! Are you hurt?

Lauren Mallard: Cecil? Tamika won’t be a problem for us any longer. Now, what were we talking about? Oh, right, money. Success. It’s just–

Tamika Flynn: Ugh…

Cecil: Tamika! Tamika? Can you hear me?

Lauren Mallard: Well, drat. Hold on, Cecil, seems she’s still up and about. This’ll just take a second.

Tamika Flynn: Lady, I’ve trained for months. I’ve taken down your helicopters with only a slingshot. I’ve looked at a librarian right in the area where most creatures would have eyes. You do not scare me!

Lauren Mallard: Oh, no. Oh, no! Where did all these children come from?

Tamika Flynn: It doesn’t matter. What matters is that in a few moments, you will start running as fast as you can, in the direction of Desert Bluffs. All right, Book Club! Books as clubs! Go!

Lauren Mallard: No! No! May the Smiling God show me mercy! No no, I give up! I give up! I– Ow! Ow! I’m going!

Cecil: Well done, young Ms. Flynn.

Tamika Flynn: I’m securing this frequency. We’ll keep broadcasting instructions from here. Stay vigilant, Night Vale!

Cecil: Thank you, Tamika!

Listeners? Night Vale is coming alive. After weeks of the company picnic, the citizens are remembering who they are. They are members of a pseudo-democracy run by Lizard Kings through a byzantine maze of puppet governments and paperwork. A crowd of those grinning StrexCorp drones surrounded one of the winged not-angels, who was wearing a hand-tailored suit coat, but was otherwise totally nude.

But then, Leann Hart, managing editor of the Night Vale Daily Journal, hacked her way through the crowd with a hatchet.

“I am imagining you all as news bloggers! You are destroying years of journalistic tradition!”

And then, at the urging of Sarah Sultan, the president of the Night Vale Community College, Leann then threw Sarah at the few remaining Strex workers who were still intact.

Sarah, who is a smooth, fist-sized river rock, hit her target magnificently before…bouncing off somewhere.

And so this Erika, who looked both wealthy and…mostly nude, was saved.

Wait! Wait, wait wait…I am seeing a flickering, listeners! And this flickering is becoming a – a shape! And the shape…The shape is becoming…a woman!

Dana: Hello, Cecil! It’s me, Dana!

Cecil: Dana! Why haven’t you returned to Night Vale?

Dana: I will soon, I think. But there is something here that has me worried. That rumbling is getting louder, and the light on the horizon is quite close. I can feel heat, but I am not warm. The more the heat grows, the colder I feel. It is a terrible light and it is so close now. I feel as though the universe is unraveling.

Plus, I found someone here in the desert!

Carlos: Hi, Cecil! I am manifesting myself in your radio station for both personal and not-personal reasons.

Cecil: Carlos! Oh! Thank the imperfect heavens! I– I haven’t seen you in weeks! I– I didn’t know where you had gone!

Carlos: So, when I entered the house that does not exist, I found myself in this other desert world, but something happened to my team of scientists, and there was no one to let me back out! Then I c– couldn’t even find the door. Eventually, your friend Dana found me…

Cecil: Now, Carlos? Why did you not call? Or Snapchat? Or reblog any of my woodcarvings of Khoshekh? I worked really hard on those.

Carlos: Cecil! How would I do that? I’m in the middle of a desert that is not of this world!

Cecil: Oh.

Carlos: There’s no cell towers or wifi or any kind of communication system. Plus, I have to save my battery until I can find my way back to you–

Dana: Oh no, no! Your phone totally works here!

Carlos: Really?

Dana: Yeah! Also, I haven’t charged my phone in, like, a year, the battery never ran down.

Cecil: Oh.

Carlos: Is that a Samsung?

Dana: No…No, same one you’ve got.

Carlos: Oh. Wow.

Dana: And the wifi is pretty decent too, just…

Carlos: Oh, look at that! Cecil, I’m on your tumblr right now! And I gotta say, the artwork is amazing.

Cecil: Oh, thank you!

Dana: I mean, time is pretty messed up, so sometimes you reply to emails before they’re even sent to you, but other than that…

Cecil: Carlos? How do I get you home? D– Da– Dana! How do we get Carlos home? I– I– I would like Carlos to come home.

Carlos: I’ll be able to very soon. I am working on inventing something right now.

Dana: Cecil, every time the doors are open it lets that terrible light into Night Vale. And the light is so close now we can’t risk it!

Carlos: Right! You’re very smart. Cecil, you have very smart interns.

Cecil: I know.

Carlos: So…I’m– I’m building a highly scientific device to keep the light away from the doors. Now, the device looks a lot like a big umbrella. ‘Kay? But it’s WAY more complex and scientific than that for reasons I do not have time to explain right now. My danger meter is in the red and, scientifically speaking, red is the most dangerous color.

Cecil: Carlos? Carlos, you’re fading! Dana! Where did Carlos go?

Dana: He’s still here!

Carlos: Dana? I can’t see Cecil anymore.

Dana: He’s still here. Carlos, thank you. I may get to see my mother and my brother again because of you. You are a hero.

Carlos: I’m not a hero. I’m a scientist!

Dana: Well, then “scientist” will always be my word for hero.

Cecil: What is he saying? I can’t–

Carlos: We should go. Uh, tell Cecil we won’t be long at all. The– the doors should be safe to open now, I just need to finish stabilizing the device.

Dana: Cecil? We have work to do but we will be home soon.

Cecil: OK. I cannot wait to see both of you.

Carlos: Like, an hour or two, max.

Cecil: Did– did he say something? Was it– was it cute?

Intern Dana: Goodbye, Cecil.

Cecil: OK.

It is good to know we have such a talented former intern and…a brilliant scientist working together.

Once again, listeners, um, I’m also getting several frantic phone calls, uh, that have reminded me it is also election day!

So, let’s check in at the alley behind City Hall! Um, Hiram? Faceless Old Woman?

Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: Your revolution is meaningless! I will burn all detractors!

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Yeah, Cecil, all of us are in agreement here. Me, my Green Head there, and them other three heads.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gray Head: Oh, sure, just lump us all together as “the other three.”

Hiram McDaniels’ Blue Head: It’s always just Gold talking away, like he’s the most important one, and sometimes Green yells something, Green and Gold, Green and Gold.

Hiram McDaniels’ Purple Head: Also, please call me Violet! You always say Purple, but I prefer Violet!

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Right, yeah. So, also, uh, my Gray, Blue, and, uh, Violet Heads there.

Anyway, we all agree that once we become mayor, this whole revolution, well, it’s just sort moot. If StrexCorp is still here, and the people want them gone, we’ll just…y’know, throw some flames at the problem!

Faceless Old Woman: The real issue now, the real issue is getting these doors shut. There’s a blinding light pouring from them and it’s causing the world to become translucent. We can hear a deep rumbling sound, which I do not like. The helicopters seem unaffected. I think a terrible thing is trying to come through. Something that’s secrets I do not know.

The unraveling of all things.

Fire-breathing will solve none of this.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Uhhh…ba– basically the angels, or, you know, the not-angels, they just need to shut the doors when they’re done going through ‘em!

Hiram McDaniels’ Purple Violet Head: Yeah, what were they born in a barn!

Faceless Old Woman: Well, according to religious texts, yes.

Cecil: Yeah, I mean…

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: I didn’t read that…

Cecil: Did you not know that? I mean, that’s pretty standard.

Faceless Old Woman: Anyway…I agree with Hiram.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: I’m always [unintelligible]

Faceless Old Woman: A revolution and the unraveling of the universe is all fine, but it…it would be great if you could cover the election more comprehensively. We’ve worked really hard.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Yeah.

Cecil: Right.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: All of us.

Cecil: Mm-hmm. I will do my best. Or…actually, maybe not my best, but some level of effort. Um, well, thank you for the updates, both of you.

Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: You got it.

Cecil: Listeners? You heard the candidates! The doors are open. And there is a powerful rumbling below the earth. And a bright light turning everything translucent. Probably that’s bad news.

But you know, weather is weird here, so who knows? Huh.

Oh! Oh, oh! This is fantastic. Um, a couple of old friends just came by the studio.

John Peters – you know, the farmer?: Howdy, Cecil!

Cecil: Uh, listeners, it is John Peters – you know, the farmer! And…Intern Maureen? Is that you?

Maureen: Yup! Sure is!

John Peters – you know, the farmer?: Cecil, uh, now Dana and your science fella, they helped us get out of that other desert place. Uh, I mean, I’m the one who found all those old oak doors, and Maureen here figured out that physically going back and forth between the two worlds was possible, but those two, they helped a bunch!

Cecil: Well, great! Great work, um, all of you! And, you know I’m so glad to get to see all of my lost friends again.

John Peters – you know, the farmer?: Awww, well, I just stopped by to tell you that we have seen the rumbling in the desert. We have heard the bright light entering Night Vale. Cecil, that light…it is the great glowing coils of the universe unwinding. It is the unraveling of all things. It is a Smiling God of terrible power.

Cecil: Now, how do you know all of this, John?

John Peters – you know, the farmer?: Well, I was in 4H club in high school, I’m a farmer – you know – uh, you learn all this kind of stuff in 4H, seemed obvious.

Cecil: No, no, of course, I mean, uh, yeah, of course. Uh, now, Maureen, it is so nice to see you again! I mean, it’s been…how long?

Maureen: Listen to me, you monster!

Cecil: Oh!

Maureen: I got you coffee, and I made mimeographs, and I sang sea shanties to the ants every single day. I even copy edited your Jaws slash fic even though that wasn’t in the job description! I did! And then one day, “Oh, get me some orange juice, Maureen! I mean, I won’t’ even tell you how it’s making people blink in and out of existence!”

Cecil: Uh–

Maureen: And not only did it make me blink out of reality, but you didn’t even WANT it when I brought it! Do you even know the mortality rate of your internship program?

Cecil: …I’m not terribly sure what you mean.

Maureen: Chad, Jerry, Leland, Rob, Brad, Stacy, Richard, Paolo, Dylan, Vithya, Ziv…d’you know what they all have in common?

Cecil: Umm…they all got great training for a future career in radio?

Maureen: No! No, that’s not it at all. They’re–

Cecil: Oh, excuse me. Speaking of interns…Intern Jeremy had a recent run-in with the scorpions in the break room, and will be missed.

Oh! Hey, now that you’re back home, are you still looking for college credit?

Maureen: [sigh] Yeah.

Cecil: Oh! Great! Uh, can you start today?

Maureen: Yeah, OK, thanks.

Cecil: Um, thank you for stopping by John!

John Peters – you know, the farmer?: Oh, sure thing, Cecil. Uh, beware the unraveling of all things, and support your local farmers.

Cecil: Yes. And, um, Maureen? Can you just…pop down to the library and, uh, do some research on Smiling Gods for me?

Maureen: Fine.

Cecil: Great.

John Peters – you know, the farmer?: I’m not too sure that’s a good idea…

Cecil: Listeners, if John and Maureen are back, then that must mean that the doors are working again and this is fantastic news. I am now receiving reports that…the rumbling is growing louder. And people are saying that they can feel it in their feet, and in their teeth, and they are becoming forgetful and objects are becoming transparent. The darkness of Night Vale is washing away.

And what are we, Night Vale, without darkness? Without shadows? And without secrets?

Listeners, there is someone knocking on my station door, which must mean Carlos? Carlos, is that you?

[End of Part A]