Episode 49 - Old Oak Doors Part B
[Fade in, continuing from just before the point where Part A left off – first part of the sentence in brackets is not heard, but included here for context]
Cecil: [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? Come in, and welcome home, my sweet Car– No.
No no, no, no, no! No. No.
Steve Carlsberg: Uh, Cecil? I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to stop by, and–
Cecil: No, Steeeeve Carlsberg! You do not get to just “stop by” the studio. You are not a radio professional.
Steve Carlsberg: All right, fair, but…I’ve been driving in circles around your station all day listening to the show, and… and it got me thinking.
You know, John Peters – y– you know, the farmer?
Cecil: Yes, I do know.
Steve Carlsberg: Well, he was like, “Hey, y’all, there’s a Smiling God and the world is unraveling because I was in 4H club.” And he’s mostly right. But I think that it’s not a Smiling God, but a secret underground missile testing site.
Cecil: No, listen, the Secret Underground Missile Testing Site is below the Rec Center, Steve!
Steve Carlsberg: Well, it’s like the Faceless Old Woman recently said while campaigning, she said “I’m replacing all of your digital photo albums with classified pictures of secret missile testing sites.”
I think the Faceless Old Woman understands what’s really going on, whereas Hiram is like, “Well, I can’t really be bothered with lookin’ into government overspending because I am literally a five-headed dragon.”
And then, his blue head is like “When you consider the mathematics, there’s no benefit to us!”
And then Gray says “Thinking about government interference makes me sad.”
And Violet says “We must be free above all! We must be free and also above all other things!”
And then his last head just keeps roaring and saying, “Your body bends quickly soft human protesters!”
But really, I was thinking about what your boyfriend Carlos said.
Cecil: Don’t you dare, Steve Carlsberg!
Steve Carlsberg: So, he said, “I’m certain I can stop the light from entering Night Vale. I have a simple device that will protect us!”
Cecil: I am not dating a Munchkin from The Wizard of Oz. That’s not– no.
Steve Carlsberg: You sure?
Cecil: I– I’m quite sure.
Steve Carlsberg: All right. Fair enough, but…look, he’s – and no offense, Cecil, but – he’s an outsider. He’s not from here. How do we know he’s not part of the super underground secret military government that is testing missiles?
Cecil: Steve Carlsberg! Did you just accuse my boyfriend of being a secret operative?
Steve Carlsberg: Well, um…yeah!
Cecil: Because that’d be pretty cool, actually!
Steve Carlsberg: No, it wouldn’t! It’s dangerous!
Cecil: That’d be awesome!
Steve Carlsberg: It’s dangerous awesome!
Cecil: But– but it is– nevertheless, it is not true, Steve. Plus, how many times do I have to tell you that there is nothing secret about the secret missile testing? It is as American as using drug-laced apple pie to test the effects of hallucinogens on innocent citizens!
Kevin: I think he brings up a good point, Cecil!
Cecil: You! How did you get in here?
Steve Carlsberg: Hey, thanks interloper! Whoah, cool eyes!
Kevin: Oh, thank you! I wish I could say the same.
Cecil, listen, it’s hard to get work done when there’s all this fighting! And it’s hard to smile when there’s no working! And if we aren’t smiling, then what value do we have?
Watch me smile!
Cecil: You monster!
Steve Carlsberg: That was really gross! Do it again!
Kevin: Look at how much better we all feel from that! But right now, no one is being productive. There are angels–
Cecil: Actually, there’s not.
Steve Carlsberg: No, of course not! What?
Cecil: There’s– no. Not– nope. Not a thing.
Kevin: And a desert army out there battling! For what? For Hooded Figures? For Forbidden Dog Parks? For a Glow Cloud?
[Cecil and Steve together] ALL HAIL!
Kevin: For the constant terror of a Secret Police who can invade your home at any time, without so much as a letter from Human Resources?
Cecil: But they are our Hooded Figures. And it is our Glow Cloud!
[Cecil and Steve together] ALL HAIL!
Cecil: And this is our town! And it is terrible. But it is ours. And we…we are fighting for it!
Kevin: I used to feel that way about Desert Bluffs.
So many secrets and conspiracies and darkness in our days. It all felt so important, so permanent!
But then we met the Smiling God! Oh, it was so wonderful! The sun stopped setting! Or– maybe there wasn’t a sun anymore. Maybe there was just that other…brighter light. Who knows? I do know that I couldn’t stop smiling. None of us could! And our smiles seemed better, fuller, wider.
Soon we had no need for government cover-ups, or secrets. Everything was transparent. Literally. You could see through everything and everyone. The bones, the blood, the scurrying insects inside every human body!
There was so much work to be done. And such a wonderful company to do it for! Even the ones that resisted the most at first soon found that they loved the Smiling God more than anyone. Even the most resistant of radio hosts soon found his way to productive work, happy songs, and a wide, gaping smile.
So, let’s do this together, Cecil. Believe with me in a Smiling God! The Greater Night Vale and Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area, a town with not one, but two happy, helpful voices.
Cecil: Listeners, Kevin has just opened up the studio door, only– it is not the studio door. It is an oak door, and…and light, a blinding light is pouring in, and everything is becoming translucent!
Kevin: Do you see, friends? The beautiful majesty of living as one under the unrelenting love of a Smiling God?
Steve Carlsberg: Wow, I mean…it’s a very pretty light. You know, that company picnic of yours sure wasn’t fun, but…I got more done in two weeks than in the rest of my life combined!
Cecil: No! Steve, what are you saying? No!
Steve Carlsberg: Kevin, before I step into your weird light, let me ask you about schools real fast. Now, my stepdaughter Janice is ten years old, and…the elementary schools are OK, but I don’t know if I can afford to send her to private school, and she’s a little bit…
Kevin: Say no more, Steve Carlsberg! Desert Bluffs schools are top-notch! Young Janice can take college prep courses as early as 12. Our charter schools even have great medical programs, where they can heal her of all her problems.
Steve Carlsberg: I’m sorry, uh, I don’t get it.
Cecil: Yeah, um…Janice’s uncle here. What do you mean by “heal her?”
Kevin: She can’t walk, right?
Cecil: Yeah, I mean…
Steve Carlsberg: Oh no, since birth.
Cecil: She can’t.
Kevin: Well, rather than build all those crazy ramps and elevators, we just fix people, so that they can become better, and more productive!
Steve Carlsberg: You are awful, and gross! And I was only being polite about your eyes! They are weird! Now you listen to me!
Cecil: Listeners, Steve Carlsberg has just picked up Kevin by his blood-stained lapels.
Kevin: Oooh! Ooh! Oh!
Steve Carlsberg:You will not change my home town! You will not change my stepbrother! And, Kevin of Desert Bluffs, you will not change, or fix, or do anything at all to my little girl!
Cecil: And– and– and Steve– Steve is carrying him to the open oak door! And– and he just pushed him through into that blinding, awful light!
Kevin: Oh, smile!
Cecil: And Kevin…is gone.
Steve Carlsberg: I did not like that guy very much.
Cecil: Me neither. Um, thanks, Steve.
Steve Carlsberg: Anything for my girl. Try and tell me there’s something about her needs fixin’.
Cecil: You know, Steve, uh, we have our differences. So many differences. More differences than not, yes.
Steve Carlsberg: Yeah, I understand what you’re saying about the differences.
Cecil: But, I am glad that you are there to take care of Janice, and…she could do a lot worse.
Steve Carlsberg: Oh, Cecil!
Cecil: Oh, wait, oh!
I…no. Nope, no. Never again. No. Please leave my studio and– and just stop barging in here with your stupid ideas about the world!
Steve Carlsberg: OK! I’ll see ya around, Cecil!
Cecil: Great.
Steve Carlsberg: Oh, hey there! Steve Carlsberg! Aren’t you important-looking? Hoo-hoo hoo-hoo!
Cecil: Dana! Dana! You are– You’re actually back in the studio! And…this is not just an image or an apparition?
Dana: I am! I’m home! Our time and space finally, finally meet again!
Cecil: Oh, this is a happy, happy day!
Dana: I am so glad to see you too, Cecil! But I also came back to talk to the whole city.
[Clears throat]
People of Night Vale, there is a light drowning out our sun and our minds. But there are angels, and an army of masked warriors fighting back this terrible menace. Night Vale, stay safe! Stay home and do not get caught in the dangerous crossfire. The desert army and the angels, they are here to save us.
Tamika Flynn: People of night Vale!
Cecil: Oh! Uh, Dana! Uh, I’m sorry, Dana, but I think that’s Tamika Flynn from her secret broadcast site.
Tamika Flynn: People of Night Vale, hear me!
Dana: Tamika? The Tamika Flynn! Oh, hi, I’m Dana! I have heard so much about you! You are an inspiration, you are a hero!
Tamika Flynn: Thank you, Dana, but I am not a hero. Or we all are. Or the word has no meaning.
We must all save our town, and ourselves. People of Night Vale, I’m calling you to arms. There are beings claiming to be angels, and this foreign army of giants fighting. Why can’t we?
Cecil: Well, uh– yes, that’s good, but…
Dana: People of Night Vale!
Cecil: Oh.
Dana: Angels are definitely real. They are powerful, and recently very wealthy, and they are tough to kill, unlike humans who die easily and unexpectedly all the time from all sorts of little causes. Just wait and let them save us.
Cecil: Ahh, I see…
Tamika Flynn: People of Night Vale, do not be defined by how you can die, but how you can live! It is like the great writer and orator Booker T. Washington once said, “In all things social, we can be as separate as fingers, yet one as the hand in all things essential to destroying a Smiling God.”
Dana: Stay safe, Night Vale! Stay indoors and we will broadcast to let you know when it’s all over.
Tamika Flynn: Get out there, Night Vale! Grab anything you can and fight! Grab a slingshot and a book, say an Amy Bender Short Story Collection, or Milorad Pavic’s Dictionary of the Khazars. Or, if not a book, grab a rock. Or the throwing stars that come standard in most issues of McSweeney’s. Grab anything you can, and fight!
Do not believe in heroes, believe in citizens. Be a citizen.
Cecil: Dana, I– I– I know that you have planned this well, and you are incredibly smart, but…
Dana: Alright, it’s fine.
Cecil: I think Tamika…
Dana: Whatever.
Cecil: …might be right.
Dana: Not a big deal.
Cecil: Um, no, I– I think we have to…
Dana: I just brought two different armies together, whatever.
Cecil: …all do this together, and let us not repeat our sin…
Dana: It’s fine.
Cecil: …of inaction, I mean…ugh.
It– It has grown so bright, and I cannot see much. But what I can see is nearly transparent, and…and I am forgetting. And everything is coming apart, and I can see the great glowing coils of the universe unwinding.
Night Vale, our time…our time is now! Let us raise our fists and shout! I can…I can almost hear it. I can almost hear a crowd shouting, “Take down Strex!”
I can almost hear that crowd, but I cannot quite hear them. They need to raise their hands and shout it louder! They need to shout, “Take down Strex!”
Every single one of them!
[audience joins in]
Take! Down! Strex!
Louder!
Take! Down! Strex!
And they scream it!
Take! Down! Strex!
And then, they stop. Not because they do not care, but because they are people that are far away and not part of this story.
They are part of a different story, a different fiction.
But, realizing this, they all shrug and sadly murmur to each other, “Take down Strex? Take down Strex? Yeah, take down Strex.”
And then, then they are quiet. And they hope for that rarest element of all. They hope for the best.
But in this story, in this fiction, I– I hear the sound of Night Vale fighting back. And as the light of this Smiling God grows brighter, and as the shouts of this defiant Night Vale grow louder, and as I reach for my own personal copy of Kate Chopin’s The Awakening (well, more specifically for the tear gas canisters that came attached to the hardback edition), I take all of you, all of us, that are fighting, all of us, together, all of us, all of us, to the weather.
[“Call Off Your Ghost” by Dessa]
Cecil, recorded: Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Cecil Palmer. I’m off doing some important journalistic work. Or maybe just petting Khoshekh. But either way, leave me a message.
Carlos: Cecil, hey. Um, it’s Carlos.
I– I– I hate that I got your voicemail, but listen, I figured it out.
So, we can’t shut the oak doors unless everyone is back where they belong. And every moment those doors are open, more of that light gets through into Night Vale. I couldn’t figure out why we couldn’t just keep the doors closed for good, and it was really frustrating to have a problem I couldn’t solve. And then I got sad, because I couldn’t solve it. But then I did solve it, and I felt so happy! So those are some – but not all – of the emotions that I had.
Here is what I found. Night Vale is a place that is difficult to leave, and difficult to enter, and connecting a place as weird as that with a place as weird as this was causing a lot of…strain ion linear time and space. So…those native to Night Vale, Dana, John, the angry woman in the Intern shirt, all had to return home, and the masked army all had to come back here, which they did. Just moments ago, the last of them came back through the door.
It is so exciting when you make a scientific discovery like that! I was very happy!
But then, as the last of the masked army members came through the door, it slammed shut and vanished. And I remembered that I am not from Night Vale.
I remembered that, as far as the laws of the universe are concerned, it is not where I belong.
Cecil, I don’t even remember how I got to Night Vale in the first place. I mean, where is Night Vale, even? But I promise I will find a way back. It’ll just take a couple of days, a week max.
I’ll be fine. I’m a scientist.
Cecil? A scientist is usually fine.
Maybe a few weeks, I don’t know.
The upside is Dana was right. I have had 97% battery all day, and decent reception! So we’ll at least get to talk every night.
Best of luck at home. I love you.
Cecil: Listeners? Night Vale fought together! Every citizen!
High school football coach, Nazr al-Mujaheed, in response to the Strex workers ghastly smiles, showed them that thing that he can do with his tongue, which made many of them stop smiling and run screaming away.
A balaclava-clad man wearing a mitre, cloak, and a giant silver star and speaking through a vocoder – you know, the man that we all believe to be the Sheriff of Night Vale – was dropping heavy bricks down on the invaders from his hover-office in the clouds.
Simone Rigadeau, the transient who lives in the Earth Sciences Building at the Community College, found some experimental fish in the lab closet, and put them into the fuel tanks of the yellow helicopters, which were already incapacitated by several plastic bags that had blown out of the Forbidden Dog Park, and then, you know, wrapped themselves up in the rotors.
And Old Woman Josie, and her supposed “angel” friends, protected the empty lot where she plans to rebuild Night Vale’s Old Opera House.
The Strex attackers were picked up by her winged friends and flown far into the sky, higher than even the Sheriff’s hover-office.
And, of course, a group of teenagers, led by Tamika Flynn, chased out everyone at StrexCorp Headquarters by slingshotting copies of Stephen Covey’s best selling self-help book, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.
And the civilization of tiny people living below Lane 5 of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex…well, they did something. I’m– I’m not terribly sure, but, you know, ‘cause they’re too tiny to be noticed amid all the action.
Which is to say, Strex has retreated!
And the blood-covered office workers are gone! And! And the old oak doors, they are also gone. And with them, that penetrating, vicious light, and we are safely in darkness once again.
A very wealthy-looking and mostly nude being named Erika, who introduced themselves as…you know, an angel, or whatever, then wrote a check to purchase StrexCorp. And, while they are not technically for sale, there was no one to decline the offer, so – according to American business law – that is a legal acquisition!
It is not yet known what the angels will do with the vast corporation they now own, and I think – at last – we are ourselves. We are Night Vale once again.
Even here, at the station, the office of station management now is just a stone slab covering a dark cave. A pulsing red glow around its edges filling my mind with sad and monstrous visions when I walk past the door.
So it seems like our old management is back in charge!
And that is…well, I think that’s a good thing. I think. I mean, it’s possible that that is, in fact, terrifying news, so…I think…I guess…we won!
Faceless Old Woman: Speaking of winning…
Cecil: Yes! Right! The election! Okay.
Well, it looks like we didn’t quite get all of the votes in yet, so we are going to speed things up. Listeners? Listeners, wherever you are listening to this, just follow along.
When I say the name of the candidate you prefer, raise your hand.
So, I will say the name, you raise your hand, and the cameras that are everywhere in town, watching your every move, will count your vote.
So, raise your hand to vote for Hiram McDaniels.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gray Head: Oooooooh, I thought there would be more. Do they not like me?
Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: RAISE YOUR HANDS FOR ME! OR I WILL RELIEVE YOU OF THE BURDEN OF HAVING HANDS!
Hiram McDaniels’ Blue Head: Up!
Cecil: All right. OK. Hands down.
Now, raise your hand for the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home.
Faceless Old Woman: I– I am in your home at this very moment. I am, in a way, your guest. It would be rude, as a host, if you did not raise your hand for me while I was sitting right there, unseen, next to you.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Now, now, now…
Faceless Old Woman: It might make me angry. I’ve never been angry. I wonder what I’m like when I’m angry? It will be interesting for us to find out together if you do not raise your hand for me.
Cecil: Oh, OK. OK. Great. Hands down.
Now, I am fairly certain that some of you voted for both. And thus, negated yourselves. You’ll know if one of your friends did this, because they will soon fade from existence forever.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Yup, very good.
Cecil: Anyway, that’s all the votes in but, of course, none of the votes matter because the election is decided by the pulses coming from Hidden Gorge. I am now being handed the results by an election official in full uniform – a plague doctor mask, an off-brand Snuggie, and stilts.
And the next mayor of Night Vale is…
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: I just wanna thank every person who voted for me. You’re all winners in my book!
Hiram McDaniels’ Blue Head: And we’ve recorded all of your names right here in this book.
Faceless Old Woman: I just ate one of your highlighters. I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I’ll replace it with a crow’s feather just as soon as I am mayor.
Cecil: Oh. Well, it says here that the next mayor of Night Vale is Dana Cardinal!
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Uhh…heh.
[Crowd chants Dana! Dana! Dana!]
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: I–I–I–I–I’m sorry, Cecil, Cecil, I don’t want to get obnoxious about this, but it’s pronounced “Hiram.” That wasn’t even close.
Cecil: I– I know, I– I’m sorry, this must be a disappointment to you both, but I– I’m just reading what the Gorge is decreeing.
Faceless Old Woman: Your former intern Dana? But…she wasn’t even a candidate!
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Yeah, na– oh.
Faceless Old Woman: And she’s so…young and not ancient!
Cecil: Well, Dana, the intern who came home, it is – like I told you once – you were always important –
Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! PREPARE TO BURN!
Cecil: You were always somebody, and now age has uncovered the you that was always…
Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: RRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Cecil: OK. Hiram? Please. I’m– I’m– I’m in the middle of doing something right now.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Sorry ‘bout him.
Cecil: It’s the you that – no, it’s the you that always was, but…I can’t remember what I said.
Faceless Old Woman: She can’t be mayor! She is a murderer! She killed her own double!
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Well, now, now, now, I don’t know if “murder” should necessarily disqualify someone from being…
Hiram McDaniels’ Blue Head: Irrelevant. There is a 50% chance that the victim was Dana Original and not Dana Double.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Oh yeah, thanks, Blue. Forget that other thing I was saying about murder. She has no proof that she is not a double of herself.
Cecil: That’s right, there’s no proof of…
Faceless Old Woman: Everybody knows that being a double is one of the few manifestations of reality that cannot be Night Vale mayor! I do not accept these results. I am continuing my campaign, and I will make sure that Dana does not stay mayor for long.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: And I find myself agreeing with the Faceless Old Woman. We will not rest until one of us is rightfully mayor.
Hiram McDaniels’ Green Head: OR UNTIL NIGHT VALE BURNS TO ASHES AND FUMES!
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Exactly, Green, yes. Exactly that.
Cecil: Now, I really must object to all of this.
Faceless Old Woman: Come, Hiram. You and I have planning to do.
Hiram McDaniels’ Gold Head: Yeah.
Cecil: Well. Once again, it’s just you and me, listeners. The bustle of this day has come and gone. And now, there is the quiet night.
The universe is unraveling. It still is. We won the day. We won the battle. We won whatever unit of measurement you care to say that we won. We returned to the dangerous equilibrium we had before, which we can only assume, or hope, or wish is better. But, of course, we did not stop the unraveling of the universe. The universe is not a thing that is, it is not a thing at all. It is the very action of its going. It is, in fact, its own dissolves and our lives – the entire span of human existence going back and back and, if we are lucky, forward and forward – the entire span is spent within this dissolve.
So look at the fleeting stars with fleeting eyes, and feel how the earth beneath you gives. It is all a temporary manifestation of particles, and it is all unraveling back to particulate silence. The bustle of the human day will come and will go. And then there will be night.
But how beautiful these moments within the dissolve! What a temporary perfection we can find within this passing world! Everything good ever done! Everything good that was done today, and all the good people doing it, and back and back and forward and forward, all of that beauty within a universe unraveling.
Be proud of your place in the cosmos. It is small, and yet it is. How unlikely! How fantastic! And stupid. And excellent. And…
I’m sorry. I– I’m sorry, um, it looks like I have a voicemail from Carlos. He must have called during the weather. Um, I apologize, listeners, I– I have to check this, so…stay tuned next for more of us and more of me, until that inevitable distant point where I and this and everything must end.
And as always…goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.
Today’s proverb: Wonderwall is the only ’90s song visible from space.