August 2018

131 - Brought to You by Kellogg’s

Today as all days,
As every day of your life,
Has been brought to you by Kellogg’s.
Are you worthy?
Welcome to Night Vale.

Hello, listeners.
Well, we’ve been having some real budget troubles here at the station, so it does seem that today’s entire broadcast will be a sponsorship message from Kellogg’s. I know that feels like a lot, but it was the only way to keep the station up and running.

Station Management consumes three tons of soil from Paris each month! And it has been massively expensive digging it up and shipping it here. Not to mention all the bribes needed for government officials. All to say that Kellogg’s has agreed to pay for um, uh, let me check, OK. One month of soil shipments in exchange for us exclusively talking about them for the next three years.

Uh. OK. Well that doesn’t sound like the best bargain, but I’ll consult the station’s legal advisor and see if we can get out of that.

Oh, our legal advisor is Laura, who is a server down at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. Between shifts, she likes to read Wikipedia pages about, mm, law stuff, so we often go to her for her expert opinion. In the meantime, probably best for me to just do what the contract says. This explanation brought to you, of course – by Kellogg’s.

Let’s get to the news. John Peters – you know, the farmer – said that some folks came to his farm. They said they were from Kellogg’s. Said they heard that he grew the finest imaginary corn in the state. Said they were thinking of getting into imaginary Corn Flakes, and that they wanted to buy up his entire crop. He told them that he already had a deal with Flakey-O’s, a good local cereal company, and that he couldn’t go back on his word. One of the folks from Kellogg’s squinted up at the sun, then spit on the ground through tight lips.
“Oh,” that person said. “Iii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

To be honest, listeners, I’m now worried about Flakey-O’s.

And now the Community Calendar.
This evening is the monthly school board meeting. Topics covered will include updating text books to contain words, rather than runes and diagrams of ritual dances. Hiring a new vice principal after that whole endless cave of suffering mess a few weeks ago, and replacing all food in the cafeteria with cereal. Scientists from the Kellogg’s Institute say that most food has no nutritional value at all. Oh, wow. I did not know that. And that only cereal contains all the protein, vitamins and corn that a body needs to live. Yeah, that seems right.

Thursday, the Boy Scouts are holding their summer bake sale. They will have bowls of cereal and nothing else. The cereal is not available to you. You are available to the cereal.

Friday is now called Kellogg’s day. Mentioning the outdated name for Kellogg’s Day will result in severe fines and disappearances.

OK, I’m actually getting some sort of urgent text from Carlos. Hm. He says that something I’ve said recently is not scientifically accurate, but you know, I don’t have to check what. Kellogg’s isn’t paying me to text. Or maybe they are. You know, it’s not clear what Kellogg’s wants from us.

Saturday morning is the summer softball league’s weekly game, pitting Steve Carlsberg’s Happy Hyeenas against Susan Willman’s Garbage Dump Team. That’s  not the actual name of the team, but it should be. Ugh, Susan Willman! Kellogg’s will be sponsoring the game by replacing the softballs with fistfuls of Apple Jacks and sending employees to hurl boxes of cereal at players.

Sunday afternoon in Grove Park, Sarah Sultan will be offering free meditation classes. Sarah is, of course, a fist-sized river rock, and so is extraordinarily good at staying still and silent. And she wants to pass these skills onto you. Kellogg’s will place a six-inch deep layer of Special K over the entire park, for reasons that are their own.

The Night Vale Metereological Society has issued an extreme heat watch for Monday, saying, “Hey, it’s a desert. In August. It’s probably going to be hot as heck on Monday, and all other days.” Kellogg’s suggests using the sun to cook up some Rice Krispie treats by building a simple solar energy panel and using that to power an electric oven.

And please, set aside all of Tuesday, as Kellogg’s has indicated that they have use for us, all of us, on Tuesday. And then Kellogg’s made this hollow dry laugh that sounded like it came from a long dormant stone well.

This has been the Community Calendar.

In other news, Flakey-O’s executives announced that they are going to stand strong against this current Kellogg’s encroachment.
“We are citizens of Night Vale,” said Flakey-O’s chief executive, Leopold Tuesdale. “We’ve been through a lot of terrifying stuff. It’s a real weird town. We’re not afraid of a competing cereal company.” Then he yelped, as the closet in his office opened and the folks from Kellogg’s came out. One of them squinted up at the sun, then spit on the office floor through lips.
“I wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s,” the person said. And then the Kellogg’s group left the office while Leopold sputtered about how they got in, and why anybody would ever spit on another person’s floor.

Next up, we have traff- oh, oop, nope, OK. Um, [clears throat] I’m being told that traffic has been replaced today by our new segment.

Listeners, I’m… pleased to bring you Common Kellogg’s Questions, in which you ask questions and I answer them, with off the cuff answers that are not written down for me on these carefully scripted cards.

Question number one: How much is too much cereal?
My off-hand answer: How much is too much life? How much is too much love? Would you deny yourself blood in your veins? Would you deny yourself dreams in your evenings? There is not too much. There is only ever the deposit and the longing.

OK, question number two: Sometimes it seems my cereal boxes are watching me. I don’t know how else to describe, they-they don’t have eyes or anything, and they’re just sitting there, but it feels like they’re watching me.
Just improvising here, but: Certain measures are taken for your own good. Don’t worry about it. it’s fine.

And question number three: Is this coupon for Frosted Mini Wheats still usable? I’ve had it since, like, 2007 but it doesn’t have a date on it. Is it still good?
In answer to your questions and for your extemporaneous listening pleasure: Here are ten seconds of a person eating cereal, recorded really really close to their mouth. [crunching noises]

This has been Common Kellogg’s Questions.

Hey, let’s just keep this going. [clears throat] Health tips. Did you know that Corn Flakes cure most cancers? The reason you didn’t know that is that it isn’t true. But we have made a person on the radio say it to you, and now you will remember that he said it and forget that he said it wasn’t true. Because our minds are fallible and easily manipulated. Okey, this is just insulting. Do I really have to… [whispering] Station Management is not happy about my endangering their soil shipment, so let’s just keep moving.

Flakey-O’s chief executive Leopod Tuesdale has vanished under mysterious circumstances. A white van with a Kellogg’s logo pulled up to him as he walked to his car, and a group of people hustled him into a burlap sack and the burlap sack into the van. One of the people stopped to squint up at the sun and then spit on the ground through tight lips, before jumping in and the van roaring off. So I am being ordered by our current sponsors to report that nothing is know about Leopold’s disappearance and there are no clues indicating what happened. You know, probably he just got scared about the quality of his competitors’ products and fled. Happens all the time! All the time, Kellogg’s has asked me to repeat.

Now, let’s see what kind of weather Kellogg’s has deigned to give you.

[“Standard Deviation” by Danny Schmidt]

[booming noise]
In the beginning, there was nothing. There was not nonexistent or existent. There was no realm of air, no sky beyond it. What covered in and where, and what gave shelter? Was water there unfathomed, depth of water? Darkness was upon the face of the deep, death was not then, nor was there (ought) immortal.

Then, there was Kellogg’s. Nothing became something. Kellogg’s spread and formed. Kellogg’s became the planets and the stars. Kellogg’s gathered into long strands to become the arms of galaxies, an infinity of Kellogg’s. Space made tangible out of the empty. Kellogg’s became soil and water, it became trees and it became birds, and it learned to sing and it learned to speak.

The first man rose and found the first woman waiting for him, and her name was Kellogg’s, and his name was Kellogg’s, and they shouted in horror at their own mortal forms.

Later, there were cities and before that, there were communities. And it all came from Kellogg’s and was of Kellogg’s and belonged to Kellogg’s. The people knelt and they gave a joyful thanks for their own creation, but Kellogg’s could not hear. It was a heaving dumb creature and it created out of a natural impulse, like how humans bleed, like how birds bleed, like how trees bleed. It did not create out of benevolence. Kellogg’s is not benevolent. It is not evil, either. It is a stone. It is a star. It is every empty distance between the stones ad the stars. It is not capable of morality. It. Is. Kellogg’s. It is – forever.

Once, long ago, the first king looked out over the first kingdom. It was not a very big kingdom, but then, there weren’t a lot of people at that time. Great empires would come later, but at that moment, the world was very small, a stretch of grassland near water. And the person who held that grass land was the king. And the grassland became a kingdom. There were titles given and borders erected. The king felt that he had created something great here, that his name would ring out forever. No one knows his name now. Even 100 years after his death, it was forgotten. The only name that rings out forever – is Kellogg’s.

Once, there was a farmer who lived at the edge of a forest, and she worked her fields. She would look at the forest with longing, because it seemed to her that her life was built only of routines and chores, and that these were the walls that boxed her in. And that by monopolizing her days, these routines were killing her. They were killing her in the sense that they were taking her entire life away from her, and she felt that if she ever got the nerve, one Kellogg’s day evening, she would run into the forest. Maybe it would be scary in there, probably dangerous. She would be less comfortable than she was on the farm, but she would also be truly herself. It was all waiting for her in the forest. She never ran into it. Later, she died while working one of her fields. This story doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters – is Kellogg’s.

Years from now, the universe will disperse. The stars will dim, running out of the energy imbued to them when it all exploded. Planets will become cold rock and molecules will stop forming, and atoms will stop vibrating and it will be still. It will be still forever. Or at least until the next thing. And nothing from this thing will ever see the next thing. [whispers, inaudible] Kellogg’s will watch the universe (-) to (fire) and will help it lay itself to rest. [quietly] And Kellogg’s will wait in the darkness. Will wait as long as it needs to. Forever, or what a human would perceive as forever. Maybe it will wait for ten times as long as this universe ever existed, but eventually, it will stir. There will be water there, unfathomed depth of water. Darkness will be upon the face of the deep, and it will all start anew.

There is a town, and that town is called Night Vale. It exists on a plane in a desert surrounded by the Scrub Lands and the Sand Wastes. Above us are lights that flit about. When they (peer), we (peer) back, wonderingly. We are simple, and we love each other, and we conceal secrets and we hold multitudes, and in this way we are like anyone. We live lives that are rich with meaning and awe. Or we live lives that are heavy with torment and worry, or we live lives that pass by like a Wednesday afternoon and we reach the end and say, “oh my God, was that it?” And it was.

We are a community. Like the king, we have made the world smaller, and in claiming this tiny corner as our entire world, we have created a kingdom. Like the farmer, we eye the forest and contemplate what could be out there if we ever left, if we ever went. But few of us do. And like the universe, we are brought to us – by Kellogg’s. We belong to Kellogg’s, and we are made of Kellogg’s. We cannot understand Kellogg’s, and that may be because the mystery is too complex. Or, it may be because it is as simple as a monolith, and truly there is nothing to understand.

Flakey-O’s is no more. The company has been bought out, with no management left to resist the hostile takeover. It is now a research wing of Kellogg’s, designed to test out a concept that Kellogg’s says they have just invented all on their own. Which is a line of cereal meant for night time only. The new head of this division squinted up at the sun, then spit on their own office floor through tight lips before saying, “Ii wouldn’t worry about Flakey-O’s.”

That’s it for our sponsored show.

Remember: today has been brought to you – by Kellogg’s. And Kellogg’s can take today away.

Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night.

Today’s proverb: Keep your eye on the ball. Keep your lungs on the court. Leave your stomach in the locker room.

132 - Bedtime Story

This is a bedtime story my mother used to tell me.

Welcome to Night Vale.

There once was a boy who wanted to know everything. He was smart and curious. He would draw the stars and collect insects. He would read books and write poetry. He looked at blades of grass in a magnifying glass, and he knew there was more to know. His father would tell him “I love you my son, I would give my life for you.”

Most days his father made him work in the pasture. The boy was not interested in operating plows or hammers or pry-bars. He was only interested in how they worked, and his curiosity would often lead him to injury. This made his father angry, but his father did not want to say an unkind word to a son. So when he was mad, he avoided the boy, not speaking to him for days, even to check to see if he was OK.

His mother would tell him, “I love you my son. I would give away everything I own for you.” She sometimes baked cakes for the family.

He loved cake. He loved leavening agents and the careful art of mixing flour with liquid, and the chemical reaction of eggs and fat under extreme heat. Sometimes he would help, but his mother would become frustrated when he would eat a spoonful of raw baking soda or open the oven early and pour the uncooked batter onto the floor, to examine the consistency at different times in the baking process. His mother would cast him out and tell him no cake, no dinner even, to go to his room for the rest of the night.

His sister would tell him, “I hate you, brother.” But their parents would instruct her to be nice and so she would say sarcastically, “I love you, brother. I would climb the tallest mountain for you.” But she knew she did not believe in mountains, and he would tell her that mountains were real, and she would wrestle him into the ground and pull his hair.

He knew he would never need his father to give his life for him. He just wanted his father to show concern for his health. He knew he would never need his mother to give away all of her belongings for him. He just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity. He knew his sister really loved him. He knew he would never need his sister to climb a mountain for him. He just wanted his sister to believe him that mountains were real.

One day, the boy decided he wanted to be a singer, so he could study how music makes people feel good. But his mother said, “You can’t support yourself as a singer.” Another day, the boy decided he wanted to be a doctor, so he could understand how medicine works. But his father said: “Being a doctor means you have to perform surgery,” and he feared for the boy’s future patience. Another day, the boy decided he wanted to be a judge, so he could make sense of the laws that govern the land. But his sister said, “You get in trouble too much to be a judge.”

The boy wanted to be an alchemist. Later, a chef. Later, an archeologist. Later, a ship’s navigator. His mind thought of everything he could imagine. His fingers touched everything they could reach. His mouth said everything he could form into sounds. But for each job he told them he wanted to do, they told him a reason he couldn’t or shouldn’t do it.

One day, the boy saw an angel in the middle of the dusty field next to his house. This was a long time ago, so angels were not to be publicly acknowledged. But no one else was around, save for a few birds who might report the boy to the sheriff. The boy was willing to take that chance. He had never seen an angel, and wanted badly to learn about them.

The angel, like all angels, was named Erika. The angel told the boy that below this field is a world of renewal, a place that will let you be something different, something amazing. Erika knew the boy wanted more from his life.
“Underground, I can be anything I want?” the boy asked.
“You cannot be anything you want, but you will be something you want,” the angel said.
“And what is that?” the boy asked. “Like a doctor or a singer or a judge?”
“What you actually want is rarely what you think you want,” the angel replied. “So probably no.”
“How will I know if I’m going to like it?” the boy asked.
“How will you know anything?” the angel said and then ascended back to heaven, where they had some scones and a tall class of orange milk waiting.
“How do I get there?” the boy called. And faintly, from the clouds, he heard: [spitting sound].
He didn’t understand what the noise meant. Was the angel angry at him for asking so many questions? His mouth was wet, even in the dry dusty desert field. He felt immediately hydrated. He spit. [spitting sound] He spit again. [spitting sound] And the dirt moistened into mud, dark and glistening like chocolate pudding. He spit and spit and spit, until the puddle was about 18 inches wide. His mouth was dry and swollen. He couldn’t spit anymore.

The boy reached his hand into the mud, and the earth gave way easily. It was a hole. He reached his entire shoulder in, then his head, his torso, and finally his legs and feet. He was standing once again, but upside down underneath this world. Everything was dark, but completely visible. And below him, the bright white of the new sky. He could see the underside of the barn, of the house, his sister had returned home, and you could see the warm tread on her boots as she stepped across the lawn. The boy saw worms and spiders and centipedes floating in the dark soil before him. He could feel them touch his cheek and teeth. And soon they began to nestle in his ear. He spent hours exploring every bug, every plant, every buried rock. He found some artefacts, like an expired shotgun shell. A lockbox full of notebooks long since rotted away. Even the skeleton of a dog in a wooden crate.

There was so much to explore, but he was getting tired. It was difficult to move around. He looked for the hole he had entered, but it had dried up in the hot sun. he could feel ants along his eyelids and the inside of his lips. He could barely walk. He tried spitting again, but soil had stuffed in his mouth. The sun had set, so he curled into a ball to go to sleep. He would figure out how to get home in the morning. He wished he could move.

It began to rain, and from the underside of the earth, the weather sounded like this.

[“Bad Friend” by Cheese On Bread
http://cheeseonbread.com/]

After the rain, his arms felt longer, as well as his toes, but he still could not move. Days passed and he few longer and longer. There was sometimes more rain, but mostly sun. One morning, after several months, he could actually feel the wind again on his face and on his back. When the rain came, it sounded like it always had, not that odd underground sound he had grown used to. And he realized he had finally begun to emerge back above ground. He wanted to run home, but his legs and toes had grown so long that they were entangled in each other, in rocks and in other plants deep within the ground.

He wasn’t climbing out of the ground, but growing out of it. His skin was greenish brown and wooden. He had little bulbs tufted along the tips of his fingers and the top of his head. Stuck in the earth, he had only to think about everything around him. It was what he always wanted from his life. He learned about photosynthesis and cellular division. He learned about mating habits of squirrels and birds. He studied the geometry of spider webs and the physics of stars. He spent a lot of time in those next several months watching his family, their grief at his loss. His parents’ happiness at his sister’s education. Aging, and the rapid breakdown of his parents’ bodies over the next many years.

Time slowed for him, and his knowledge grew so vast and so expansive, human triumphs and pains became only a small sliver of his interest. There were much larger systems to comprehend than humanity. In a decade, he had grown to over 20 feet tall. His sister, now an adult, approached. She touched the leaves growing from his chest and hips. The boy felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, but he couldn’t quite explain what it was. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He had forgotten what he used to be.

The boy was no longer a boy, but a tree. He did not know why a tree would want to speak. His sister smelled the tips of her fingers that had run along his leaves. She touched his bark, and she left. Over the years, she would return and plant flowers near the tree. She would remove beetles that were burrowing into his body. She would sit beneath him and read a book, and he would try to read over her shoulder, but it was written in human language. These days, he could only read clouds and stars and moonlight. His sister would pluck fruits from him, great green bulbs, like pears but larger and filled with a bright pink flesh and teardrop-shaped grey seeds. She would cut them open and eat them while reading, the juice trailing down her chin and onto her cotton shirt and denim trousers.

She sometimes collected his fruits in basket and sold them or made pies. Eventually there was a man with her, later a child. One sunny spring morning she and the man and the child came to the boy, the tree, all wearing black. Their eyes were swollen. The tree grew sad, knowing they had lost a family member, but he wasn’t sure which one, or what a family member even was, or that it was one of his parents. The crying woman below him was his sister, but he could not remember this. His humanity was eroding, his botany flourishing.

Later that spring, the woman and the man and the child brought a picnic and some games, and the tree was happy, but could not comprehend why. Nor did the tree intend to. The tree was simply happy, and this was a feeling that existed. Years later, the family wore black again and cried. And the tree felt sad, but it did not connect this feeling to any kind of narrative. It was simply sad, and this was a feeling that existed.

As the woman and man entered their old age, the tree did not understand their actions or their words or their behaviors. The tree barely noticed them at all. But as they arrived, it felt good. When they left, it also felt good, or sometimes bad. The only things it understood were sunlight and rain and soil. The tree knew it might live centuries without being able to speak or move or bake or work in the field. Trees could never be doctors, singers, or judges either, and this tree didn’t know why those particular human careers came to mind. But it loved examining the changing world with no ability to do anything about it. There was not to do, but feel. It had learned to cope with the itchiness of bugs, the searing pain of lightning strikes, and the embarrassment of birds. And it could stand all day and night, never tiring of gaining more knowledge about weather and gravity and biochemistry.

One day, more than a hundred years later in the once dusty field, now populated with grass, flowers and several more houses, an angel approached the tree and said, “Hello boy, I’m Erika.” The tree did not hear the angel. The tree did not see the angel. The tree felt the angel, but had no understanding of the angel’s presence. The tree understood so much of what there was to know about the earth. It certainly never learned to sing or test medicine or interpret laws, but these were minor details compared to memorizing the patterns of weather, the terrain of the moon, the motions of stars within an ever expanding universe. So the presence of an angel was not that big of a deal. The tree felt it had learned everything important there was to learn.

The angel said, “You’ve yet learned so little.”
And from behind their back, Erika revealed an axe. They swung wide and drove the blade into the tree’s base. It hurt, and the tree remembered mortality.
“I am sorry this hurts, boy,” Erika said and drove the axe into the tree again. For most of an afternoon, the angel chopped and chopped, and eventually the tree fell.

Over a few days, the tree and the fruits and the separated stump died. But the tree retained everything. As its body was planted into boards, as its twigs were ground into mulch, the tree felt the knowledge of each seed it had planted across the valley, each creature it had nourished with its fruits, and each piece of lumber built into a home for generations of humans to come.

The tree felt its branches burned in a fireplace, and it rose up as smoke and dissipated into carbon across the sky, coming down in trillions of molecules to build more soil, more trees, more creatures. The boy could truly learn everything now, cell by cell.

It’s been centuries, and the boy is still learning. He’s inside you and me this very moment, learning about each of us. Maybe one day, one of his memories will find its way into your own. Maybe it will make you a singer, or a doctor, or a judge, or a baker, or even – another tree. And you will think of the boy who wanted to know everything and did.

And then my mother would pat my head and say, “Good night, Cecil, good night” or so I imagine. By then I was long asleep. I hope you are too.

Stay tuned next for temporary oblivion, followed by a forgetful waking consciousness and
Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night.

Today’s proverb: Live every moment as if it was just one of the two and a half billion moments you have in your life.

Live show 2017: ALL HAIL

You can purchase the show at https://nightvale.bandcamp.com/.
NOTE: Some tracks were released to Patreon supporters only. They won’t be published here. If you’re a Patreon supporter and you want the transcripts to those tracks, please let me know.

1.INTRO.

Meg: And now. Listeners of every kind, the voice of Night Vale, Cecil Baldwin!
[applause]

Cecil: Sticks and stones may break your bones. That is just one of a number of things that sticks and stones may do. Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, it is truly wonderful to be here on the radio with you tonight. Wherever you are listening to this podcast, whether it is huddled in your car, hiding from a faceless child who is whispering your name, or crouched behind your crouch, hiding from a faceless child who is whispering your name. I’d like to take this moment to welcome you all, so welcome – oh geez, OK… I’m sorry, [chuckling] it’s a good thing we’re on the radio tonight because um, I just did this grand gesture of welcome and I accidentally knocked over some very important radio equipment. Um, but you (wouldn’t -) matter, it’s all good.

Night Vale, I’m sure that you all know about the Glow Cloud. Yes, that great glowing cloud that came to our town years ago, who continually drops dead animals upon our city. Now at first, we feared it. I mean the Glow Cloud does have a tendency to take over our minds and make us say things that we otherwise wouldn’t, such as: “Alll hailll” and: “behold the magnificent cloud” and: “I put my forehead into the dirt and weep, oh great Cloud that knows all things!” You know, stuff like that.

Or you’ll be brushing your teeth and the Glow Cloud will just happen to pass by, and then you have to say all of that stuff with toothpaste in your mouth, you’re like [garbled] “All hail [unclear] cloud all hail the [unclear]”, [spits] and then you just end up with toothpaste all over your bathroom mirror.

Now mostly, we’ve gotten used to the Glow Cloud. I mean, it is an active and productive member of our community. It even serves as the president of the school board, where it has gotten a lot done. Because the other members of the school board just spend entire meetings chanting and praising the Glow Cloud. I mean it does have a child in our school system, and the Glow Cloud has never once completely destroyed our entire town so – I dunno, practically a model citizen.

Which is why it’s very surprising what is happening right now. The Glow Cloud has left the school and is now hovering above the broadcast tower of this radio station. I mean if we switch feeds, you can actually hear it. Listen. [garbled static] So I’m not sure what that’s about.

But you know what, we’re just gonna move on with the show like normal, I’m sure it’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?

2. DEB AND CAITLYN.

Cecil: And now a word from our sponsor. For that, we bring up the harmlessly malicious sentient patch of haze, Deb!

Deb: Hiya Cecil. Hiya radio audience with all those mushy bits inside you, that could so easily go wrong. I hope that none of those mushy bits go wrong for you tonight.

Cecil: Well I think that’s as close to a friendly greeting as we’re gonna get so..

Deb: You bet.

Cecil: Deb, what are you advertising today?

Deb: Hilton brand international chain of hotels, suites, and residences. Let me tell you Cecil, and this is not prepared text, this is my honest feeling. [clears throat] The Hilton brand international chain of hotels, suites, and residences is the consistent leader in business and leisure travel satisfaction when measured as a ratio against initial expectation and adjusted for projected consumer bias (skew). And Cecil, I truly mean it.

Cecil: Great.

Deb: You know how the human body is so heavy with all its goopy weight, and so physically weak that you spend half of your existence sprawled out vulnerable and hallucinating?

Cecil: Don’t I ever.

Deb: Yeah. Well, Hilton has provided a place for you to do that.

Cecil: Oh.

Deb: Isn’t that kind of them? It’s like a big cushiony container for you to rest your human meat in, while your brain so desperately tries to escape existence. So just all of that. And I’m presuming more.

Cecil: What’s the matter, Deb? Your heart doesn’t seem into it.

Deb: Oh no, I don’t have a heart. I’m a patch of haze.

Cecil: Oh. I meant metaphorically.

Deb: Oh, I don’t have a heart metaphorically, either. You people are all just weird, squishy, playthings to me. But you’re right, I am a little distracted. My sister is in town.

Cecil: You have a sister?

Deb: [grouchily] Why do humans always react to new information by restating it as a question that they know the answer to? Yes, I have a sister. Her name is Caitlyn. Caitlyn, Caitlyn get out here! Meet Cecil, the human whose radio show I take over whenever I feel like it.

Cecil: Well I wouldn’t say take over my show, [mumbling].

[Caitlyn speaks with a different accent than Deb.]

Caitlyn: How are ya, I’m Caitlyn.

Cecil: Uh, hi Caitlyn, I’m Cecil.

Caitlyn: Wow, this studio is wicked small. You care if I overlap my haze with your body?

Cecil: Oh I wish you would-

Caitlyn: Greaaaaaaat.

Cecil: Oh oh, whoa, oookayy… This feels really weird.

Caitlyn: So this is where my kid sisters spends her days, huh? I rag on Deb for spending time with humans. I think she enjoys forcing all (-) into buying things. Me, I don’t interfere with humans, unless it’s to wrap my haze around their bodies to absorb their energy and leave them as wicked empty husksssss.

Cecil: Wait, what?

Caitlyn: Oh simmer kid, simmer, I’m not gonna do that to you.

Cecil: Ah.

Caitlyn: Probably.

Cecil: Hmm?

Caitlyn: Yeah, the rest of the family thinks that Deb’s a little off. Sean, Connor, Megan, we’re all like Deb, you got another way of talking, are you even a quarter related to us?

Cecil: Um, OK Caitlyn, I’m really worried that you’re doing something to brain right now.

Caitlyn: No no no, I’m not the inhuman sentient creature controlling your brain right now, I mean look at that glowing cloud. Is that a (-) or what?

Cecil: [whispers] I don’t know.

Caitlyn: Hey. Treat my kid sister well, I’m outta here.

Cecil: Oo.

Deb: So that’s Caitlyn. Having her around stresses me out.

Cecil: Yeah, I can see why.

Deb: [sadly] Hey Cecil, can you forget you saw any of my personal life and go back to viewing me as a malevolent patch of haze using capitalism to monetize the basic human needs of your audience?

Cecil: Yeah, consider it forgotten.

Deb: Thanks Cecil. I really appreciate that. You know, I often call you a puny sack o’ human flesh.

Cecil: And…?

Deb: [cheerfully] Oh, oh no, I was just reminiscing on the good times, goodbye Cecil!

Cecil: Alright, thank you Deb! Admittedly, she does call me that a lot.

3. HOROSCOPES.

And now, let’s have a look at today’s horoscopes.

Aries? [silence] OK, there are no Aries? It’s fine, I’m gonna do it anyway. Isn’t it funny how you drive on a parkway, but then according to your horoscope you’re going to die on a driveway? It’s weird, right?

Taurus? [cheers] Today will be lots of things for you, Taurus. Blood-free will not be one of those things. No.

Gemini? [cheers] There are many organ donors, but did you know you can also register to be an organ collector? Yeah, it’s actually very easy, all you need is  scalpel and some clay jars. But anyway, you should definitely register as an organ donor by next Thursday at 11 AM, if you can.

Cancer? [cheers] Aim for the moon, Cancer! Even if you miss, you’ll still hurdle forever through the silent vacuum of space. Cold and alone. So really, aim for that moon, OK?

Leo? [cheers] Lend someone a hand, Leo. You have a whole trunk full of hands, don’t be greedy.

Virgo? [cheers] Happy birthday, Virgo! But, OK today isn’t technically your birthday, but it turns out that any day could be your birthday if you ignore artificial and oppressive ideas about time.

Libra? [cheers] Authorities found your body last night, Libra. They need you to come downtown to identify it. Yeah, [growls].

Scorpio? [cheers] [super sarcastic voice] All of your dreams will come true, Scorpio! We have a super difficult relationship but I still love youuu! [long silence, presumably Cecil is doing something visual] Ugh, Scorpios.

Sagittarius? [cheers] Your life is full of endless possibilities. Some of those possibilities are dismal. A few of them are terrifying. And one of them will eventually kill you. But hey, there’s also like a whole bunch where you are just eating a burrito and reading a book by Zadie Smith and just generally feeling OK with the world so hey, at least there’s that.

Capricorn? [cheers] Some things are better left unsaid, Capricorn. And those things are carved in limestone and buried underneath your home. So please leave them unsaid. Because who knows what you would end up summoning.

Aquarius? [cheers] There are no dumb questions, Aquarius. Only dangerous ones, so watch your mouth and what your neighbors’ mouth, what kind of questions are they asking? Snitches get stitches, Aquarius! Snitchets. Get. Stitches!

Pisces? [cheers] If you believe in infinite possible universes, then hey, somewhere there’s a world where you don’t have a wolf spider on your shirt – right now.

4. OATH OF FEALTY.

OK, so listeners um, the Glow Cloud is indeed still hovering above our radio station, and it’s a little bit hard to concentrate because of the noise, which is now intensified and sounds like this. [loud garbled static with sharp beats] Yeah, OK. Um, I mean looking out the window of the radio studio, I can indeed confirm that those are (cows) thumping off the room of our building. And I mean falling cows are funny. Not like ha ha funny, but more like oh my god, nooooooooooooo – kind of funny, you know?

And in order to do right by the Glow Cloud, our entire sales staff have built an idol out of rolly chairs in the break room. And they’ve made these makeshift stained glass windows using dry erase markers, and all of them are swaying and singing around the effigy of their newfound cloud idol. And all of them are naked! And HR has already sent out a very sternly worded all-staff email about business casual guidelines.

I mean, from my window I can see the parking lot across from the station, and it looks like the lot attendants are repeatedly sprinting and hurling themselves into the windshields of parked cars, and these sprints devolve over time into these loping zigzagging jogs as they shout the phrase “We offer ourselves to the good of the Cloud! [whoomp]”. I mean listeners, the Glow Cloud is definitely doing this. the Glow Cloud is obviously controlling their minds, so what have we done to deserve this, Night Vale I mean, have we not been good to the Glow Cloud?

Whatever disappointment we may have caused, now is the time to put it right, by reciting the Glow Cloud Oath of Fealty. So Night Vale, wherever you are listening to this broadcast, I need you to stop what you were doing and recite the Glow Cloud Oath of Fealty, as it was taught to us all years ago, when the Glow Cloud first came to town.

So repeat after me, listeners. [crowd repeats after Cecil] All hail! All hail the Glow Cloud! We see your might and chant your praise! Hey what’s up, great glowing cloud? Looking good today! Extra glowy! Oh great Cloud that rains dead animals! Never turtles though. The Glow Cloud would never harm sweet little turtles! But ít is otherwise merciless and all powerful! We join our hands in praise of you! We join our hands with anyone next to us. We do this while chanting this oath out loud. Even if we really don’t like to participate in group chanting. We join as one! So we are easier to rule! All hail the Glow Cloud!

Good work, Night Vale. That is your good deed for the day, done. But you know, we gotta wait to find out of it works.

5. THE COMMUNITY CALENDAR.

And in the meantime, let’s take a quick look at the Community Calendar.

Let’s see here. Uh this Sunday afternoon is the semi-annual Craft Fair, held at the Night Vale Elementary gym. So come on down and purchase some handmade arts and crafts, like scarves, afghans, shrouds, death masks… There will be symposiums available to beginners and experts alike. Some of those demonstrations include: darning those darned socks, knitting your entire attire, needlepoint at knifepoint - whatever it takes to meet a deadline, mm mm mm mmm mm! And crochet, the crime that dare not speak its name. Uh, good one that one,  hmm.

This Monday evening, the Night Vale Community Theatre is holding auditions for their summer musicals, 42nd Streets. Actors must prepare one monologue and one song, memorized, Navy Seal training or mixed martial arts experience is preferred. Auditions will be held on a private island in the Indian Ocean, and auditionees will be given a compass, a crossbow, and a 35-minute head start. Break a leg!

Tuesday… burned down last night. Yeah. It was a beautiful and historic day of the week, one of the oldest. Developers say that they have no plans to rebuild Tuesday. However, they are putting an Applebee’s [solemnly] in its place.

This Wednesday, there will be a dense fog, and you will hear screams, and you will feel things in the fog. You’ll feel slimy things and (sinewy) things, and you will hear screams. And occasionally you will feel like you were falling, because you probably will be. And you will not be able to wake up, because you’re not asleep and then – the fog will pass. And you will not remember what happened. Not because you cannot, but because you dare not. This community event is sponsored by Sprite! [shouting in a deep voice] SPRITE – OBEY YOUR (PAST)!!! Registered trademark.

6. STEVE CARLSBERG.

Cecil: Thursday is the start of the annual Night Vale Jazz Fest, sponsored by the Last Bank of Night Vale. For more on that, we have in the studio the bank’s VP of Community Outreach – wait, this can’t be right – Steve Carlsberg?

Oh man, no no no, don’t!

Steve: (Do the news, do the news).

Cecil: No you got, no, we’re at work!

Steve: I’ll catch you later!

Cecil: Ugh.

Steve: Hey Cecil!

Cecil: [grumpily] Hi.

Steve: That’s right! Your brother in law is a vice president of a bank! [laughs]

Cecil: OK. Steve, how did you, how did you get a job at a bank, you can’t even remember your own house number?

Steve: Well I’ve always been good at finance stuff, Cecil. I even minored in counting in college.

Cecil: You mean A-ccounting?

Steve: No, counting. I was great at it. I aced my oral exam by listing every number up to 10,285,503!

Cecil: Wow, that is a really high number.

Steve: Yeah. My advisor said no student had ever memorized that many numbers in order.

Cecil: Ah, impressive.

Steve: OK. It’s been a few years and I’m a bit rusty, but I might be able to demonstrate for your listeners.

Cecil: No, oh no-

Steve: I think they’d be really impressed!

Cecil: No no Steve, oh no Steve- (sorry).

[loud cheering]

Steve: [clears throat] One. Two. Three. [long beat] [loud cheering]

Crowd: Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve!

Cecil: Do you need a hand (–)?

Steve: I don’t need a hand!

Cecil: OK, OK.

Steve: I minored in counting, Cecil, OK?

Cecil: Oh sure, that’s fine.

Steve: [clears throat] One. Two. Three. Four!

Cecil: Yes!

[applause]

Steve: Whoa! [chuckles] Five.

Cecil: OK, alright Steve. Hey why don’t you tell us about Jazz Fest?

Steve: Okey-dokey! The goal of Jazz Fest is about discovering jazz. We want attendees to find musicians they never would have found otherwise. Jazz Fest begins at dawn at Mission Grove Park. The moment we hear the first metallic creak of the sunrise, a solo trumpet will play an unbroken D-flat, as jazz lovers race out of the park past the sand wastes, down the gorge of Radon Canyon, back up the other side, and then another 50 miles through a barren sandy nothing.

Cecil: Wait, so it’s not at Mission Grove Park? Why is Jazz Fest all the way out in the desert?

Steve: Well ho even knows? A true jazz lover doesn’t listen to jazz. A true jazz lover looks for jazz!

Cecil: Aaaaah, yeah.

Steve: Like I just said, Jazz Fest is about finding jazz musicians, and who knows where they’re hiding? [chuckles] Jazz Fest attendees will fan out in small groups yelling, “I wanna her a flute solo! Reveal yourself, jazz!”

[long beat] But then, as night falls and wildlife wakes up, the jazz lovers will grow cold and fearful. And just when they thought they have no energy left to actually find any jazz music, [chuckles], [dramatic voice] they will be hunted by coyotes! Chased by venomous snakes and circled by vultures! As their lungs burn and their heart clamors and their muscles seize up, they will fall into the dry dust of the wilds! They will hear a tenor sax. They will whisper: “Sonny Rollins!” They will crawl, their swollen gray and pink lips pulsing sharp pains throughout their near lifeless bodies. But like all of the performing arts, the sound they hear will be a mirage! A meaningless series of tones bereft of musical weight! This was never jazz. There is no such thing as art. And as the birds circle and caw, the jazz lovers will beg for a swift and easy death. But it will be neither. [growls] The animals are very hungryyyyyy. [long beat, applause] nom nom nom nom nom nom nom…

Cecil: [sadly] Steve, do you remember, do you remember last year when that guy from Pine Cliff found where Esperanza Spalding was playing, but then, but then he held up his festival wrist band to show the bouncers, and then the buzzards came down and fully plucked out his eyes? And then he was like “no no I’m fine, my ears are fine, I can still hear the jazz!” but then the bouncers noticed that it was for Saturday only, and then they wouldn’t let him in?

Steve: [excitedly] Oh man, I must have watched that on YouTube like a million times!

Cecil: [laughs]

Steve: Oh, I love jazz bloopers! [both laugh]

Cecil: They’re the best! Oh man, but seriously, how many people are gonna get attacked by birds at Jazz Fest this year?

Steve: Oh absolutely all of them.

Cecil: Great.

Steve: Yeah. Ah, anyway, all proceeds form Jazz Fest go to support research for a cure to throat spiders!

Cecil: Ah, cool.

Steve: It’s gonna be a blast! [chuckling] Oh goodness, I almost forgot the most important part…

Cecil: Oh actually Steve, I’ve just gotta get back to the Community Calendar really quick.

Steve: It will just take a second, I’m double parked…

Cecil: No no, I I just..

Steve: I´ve really gotta go before they tow the car…

Cecil: It’ll just take a moment, OK?

Steve:  Okey-dokey.

Cecil: [clears throat] The Community Calendar, more on the Community Calendar. This Thursday is skin health awareness day. While enjoying the outdoors can be fun, the sun is a dangerous thing. Participating clinics will offer free screening where they will check your skin for unusual moles or ancient glyphs or birthmarks that fulfilled a prophecy, or burrowing insect colonies. The Night Vale Medical Board reminds you to wear sunscreen and a hat when out in the sun. They’re not sure how this helps, because the sun is essentially a million-mile wide nuclear explosion, but you know, hey, whatever.

Steve, what are you still doing here? Your segment’s over.

Steve: Y-you told me not to leave, you said you’d just be a minute, [mumbles]…

Cecil: Steve, I’ve got, like we have important things going on, you gotta go.

Steve: [sadly] Okey-dokey.

Audience member: We love you, Steve!

Cecil: No you-oh no, oh.

[applause, cheering. Steve probably hugs Cecil at this point.]

Cecil: Thank you. Thank you, Steve Carlsberg. Ugh. He should moonlight as a chiropractor.

And finally, Fridays are so much fun that we are gonna schedule all of our Fridays for this year all in a row, yeeah! Oh yeah, it’s gonna be nothing but finishing up that work week and then tearing carefree into the weekend. Now the bad news is that the rest of the year will have no Fridays at all. But you know what? [whispers] that’s a problem for future usssssss! Wink, [cackles]. Oh, future us!

7. JOSH CRAYTON.

Cecil: So, listeners. along with its other role as despotic god figure here in town, the Glow Cloud has also served the last several years as the president of the school board. Now I wanted to take an in-depth look on how that has been working out. And so we have invited 16-year-old high school student Josh Crayton here to talk about his experience as a student under the Glow Cloud’s leadership. Hi, Josh!

Josh: Hi Cecil, it’s so exciting to be here!

Cecil: I gotta say you don’t look 16.

Josh: Oh yeah, I’m a, I’m a shapeshifter…

Cecil: Oh.

Josh: …so I change my appearance pretty regularly. Like sometimes I’m a cat, but with human limbs.

Cecil: Oh.

Josh: Or sometimes I’m a machine part from a 19th century steam engine. My favorite forms are ones that fly, but my mom gets really freaked out about those. So tonight, I chose the form of a 30-something podcast writer, because I wanted to look older and a little more distinguished. I, I, I think this form is pretty handsome, right?

Cecil: No no, it looks great, it looks good.

Josh: OK, great. Plus, looking older helped me skip school so I could be here!

Cecil: Wait, hold on. Does your mother know that you’re using older looking bodies to skip school?

Josh: [long beat] S-sure.

Cecil: Good enough for me. [clears throat] So how has school changed since the Glow Cloud took over?

Josh: You know, school is school, you’ve got math class and English class, music class, music denial class ‘cause you have to teach the controversy.

Cecil: Sure, yup.  

Josh: Chemistry class, screaming class, it’s my favorite.

Cecil: Ah, yeah.

Josh: Advanced cave survival class and then just to fulfil basic physical education requirements, several hours of armed militia training every single day.

Cecil: Mm hm.

Josh: The Glow Cloud hasn’t changed any of that, I mean we still have lunch and a morning break and a two-minute hate and stuff like that.

Cecil: Oh yeah.

Josh: Mostly things just work a lot smoother, the Glow Cloud is a surprisingly good administrator. If any of the teachers cause trouble, we find them the next day out on the football field, staring wild-eyed up at the stadium lights and muttering praise for an almighty Cloud. For me personally, I’ve been more affected by having the son of the Glow Cloud in my school.

Cecil: Yeah, because the Glow Cloud’s child is in your class and um, so has that caused a lot of disruption or?

Josh: Oh n-n-no, I just meant I’m really good friends with him.

Cecil: OH.

Josh: I mean, we bonded because we’re both into super old retro music like uh, the Killers…

Cecil: Oh.

Josh: Or Outkast. Plus, obviously, we both know what it’s like to feel different from all the other kids. I mean he’s a glowing cloud like his parent, and so it can be awkward for him to sit in seats that aren’t right for his body shape or wear those armed militia training uniforms for hours and hours. Sometimes I take the form of a glowing cloud too, so he won’t feel so alone.

Cecil: Awww!

Josh: And when he gets really frustrated because people mispronounce his name even though he’s met them, like, a bunch of times, I try to cheer him up by taking a really silly form, like a butt.

Cecil: Oh, OK.

Josh: [laughing] Or, or or, or a butt with wings!

Cecil: Awww! Oh wait, what is his name?

Josh: Uh, OK it is a little difficult to pronounce because it’s a lengthy series of lightning flashes and claps of thunder but I’m always like, I don’t know, if you cared enough you’d learn.

Cecil: Ah. So sidebar, Josh you can transform into anything?

Josh: I don’t know about anything, there’s just lots of stuff I haven’t tried, but most things I think.

Cecil: Um, could you demonstrate a transformation for us right now?

Josh: Oh, I don’t think anyone would wanna see that, would they?

Cecil: Oh come on, it’s on the radio it’s… [cheers] No one will see.

Josh: OK. I- I’ve been working on this one form that I think is really cool, it’s like an entire cruise ship, but it has hundreds of insect legs on the bottom and then giant human face right on the front. Do you wanna see that?

Cecil: Uh, yeah I do!

Josh: OK well, this is gonna take up a lot of room, and it will almost certainly damage the walls in here.

Cecil: [low volume] You’re fine, that’s fine.

Josh: Sorry. [sighs] One. Two. Th- Oh no!

Cecil: What? What what what, what’s the matter?

Josh: My Mom realized I ditched school. I’m gonna be in so much trouble. I gotta go!

Cecil: No Josh, do the transformation before you go, just do the trans-… Ooooooh hohohohohoo, oh! Oh my god, he didn’t even mention the best part, the-the-the cruise ship with all the legs, it has a giant butt at the end of it! Oh man, I feel really bad for anybody that missed that one.

8. CHILDREN’S FUN FACT SCIENCE CORNER.

And now it’s time for another edition of the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. Alright so today, we are gonna try a neat little experiment to prove the existence of ghosts. Yeees! So what you’re gonna need is a cell phone with a light on it. If you have one, go ahead and take that out now, don’t worry, I’ll give you a moment. Now theoretically, you should be alone in a dark room, and I’m assuming that all of you are alone in a dark room, since it’s mandated that we stay inside at night with the lights out. And also no one wants to go out to public and share physical space with other people at a live theatrical event, [chuckling] I mean come on, who does that these days?

OK, so turn on that flashlight function on your phone and point it directly in front of you. Now, if you look veeery closely, wherever the light is shining, you may see several human figures. But only the backs of their heads. Their faces are obscured! And these figures are lost and angry spirits, and perhaps you should not have disturbed them, so quick! Shine your light behind you just to see how many there are. Oooh! [ominously] Oh dear, you are surrounded! There’s hundreds more behind you! And they do not look happy that you’re shining a light in their eyes. And they look hungryyy! So quick, turn off your lights and-and sink down really low in your seats, sink down really low in your seat and make sure that your phone won’t make any noise, because you don’t want to give away your location to the hungry spiritsss.

And hey, we just proved the existence of ghosts, you guys! [applause]

Sorry about possibly dooming you. This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

9. TAMIKA FLYNN.

Cecil: So listeners, during times of great danger here in Night Vale, we can always count on a brave group of completely unelected teenagers to defend us. And they are armed with high powered rifles and a love of books. We have the leader of that group here in the studio today, please welcome Tamika Flynn! [applause, cheers]

Tamika: [Giggles] Hi, Cecil.

Cecil: Hi Tamika. You know, I always love having you on my show.

Tamika: Awww!

Cecil: Yeah you just know so much about literature and armed conflict.

Tamika: Yes. [giggles] My militia of book lovers and I enjoy sharing great reads with each other, as well as protecting Night Vale from those who wish to destroy us. We may be a heavily armed militia, but our greatest weapons – are books. Books are full of knowledge, which is sharper than any knife. Books are filled with empathy, which is more heart shattering than any bullet. And books are filled with beauty, which echoes across our land louder than any bomb. Plus, in hand to hand combat, a hardcover fantasy epic is really useful ‘cause those things are huge.

Cecil: Oh yeah, [inaudible].

Tamika: So just you know like, bam right in the mouth! [giggles] As our promotional material says, “reading is fundamental”, but we’ve capitalized a few of the letters to spell out a more important message.

Cecil: Oh sure, reading is fun! Damental.

Tamika: No.

Cecil: Oh.

Tamika: We capitalize the F A T, second A and L, “reading is FATAL”.

Cecil: Oooooh.

Tamika: Like I said, take the hardcover edition of Marlon James’ “Swords and Sorcerers Adventure: A Brief History of Seven Killings”, then you know like, whap someone right in the face with it. [giggles] Eight killings now, sucker!

Cecil: Bam, bam, bam!

Tamika: Whack! [giggles] You know, I recently got a copy of Roxane Gay’s first novel “Untamed State”. Ah, it’s one of the most powerful books I’ve ever read. It came with the launch codes for a nucular missile.

Cecil: Wait, what? Really?

Tamika: Yeah, and that’s not even a spoiler. It’s right there are the beginning on the copyright page. 978-0-8021-221-3. You know, I thought it was her phone number at first, but when I dialed it, I think I sent up a test launch instead.

Cecil: No wait Tamika, I think that’s the ISBN number.

Tamika: Right, ICBM number.

Cecil: No that’s not what I, you know what anyway, [clears throat]. So Tamika. You must have passed underneath the Glow Cloud on your way in.

Tamika: Uh huh.

Cecil: Did the Glow Cloud make any attempts to control your mind?

Tamika: Oh no. I’m impervious to the Glow Cloud’s attempts to enter my thoughts. You wanna know why?

Cecil: Books.

Tamika: What?

Cecil: Books. It’s usually books.

Tamika: No. It’s reading books, (dur). [laughs] Books can’t do anything on their own, Cecil, they’re mere objects, pen and paper, but. Books, while they are objects are themselves, you know, potential human actions, so my militia has the Glow Cloud surrounded and they are loading slingshots and reading selected passengers from “Midnight’s Children” at it.

Cecil: Oooo! So you’re gonna, you’re gonna subdue it with magical realism!

Tamika: Oh no, we’re gonna subdue it with the tear gas canisters contained in the special 30th anniversary edition of Salman Rushdie’s masterpiece, so… [laughs]

Cecil: No wait, OK, Tamika the Glow Cloud is, as indicated by its name, it’s a cloud.

Tamika: Uh huh.

Cecil: Uh, s-so it has no respiratory system.

Tamika: OK.

Cecil: So if you shoot tear gas into it…

Tamika: Oh yeah! [blows into microphone] Pff pff pff pff pff!

Cecil: Well then that tear gas is just gonna disperse out of it and then like, allll overrr Night Valllllle.

Tamika: Oh. OK, fair enough but um, you know, I think I have a better plan.

Cecil: OK great, let’s hear it!

Tamika: OK, so. We take those slingshots.

Cecil: Uh huh.

Tamika: And then we- [loud garbled static] [brainwashed voice] All hail! All hail the mighty Glow Cloud! All praise the ethereal lord above us! Human words are dismal noise, human knowledge is insignificant, electrical pulses in a squishy grey mass. Lower yourselves before the omnipotent Clouddddddd! [normal voice] And then we finish off the cloud with the quick recitation of Federico Garcia Lorca’s “Before the Dawn”…

Cecil: Ooooh!

Tamika: As my friend Jessica fires poison darts at it, all while performing a killer barrel roll! Boom!

Cecil: Wow, yeeeah! I think that is the plan that’s gonna work.

Tamika: (–).

Cecil: Tamika, thank you so much for coming on the show, and good luck!

Tamika: Thank you!

Cecil: Tamika Flynn, everyone! [applause, cheers] Oh man, let me tell you, I’m a sucker for a killer barrel roll.

10.OATH OF FEATLY REDUX.

So before she does that, I’ve actually gotta report that I’ve not heard any animals smashing down on our roof for several minutes, so let’s check in and see if our oath to the Glow Cloud worked. [very loud garbled static] Not at all, OK.

Alright, so everyone that’s hearing these broadcasts are for some reason losing their reality, and their-and their minds are hardening like clay and even if the Glow Cloud is nowhere near them, merely hearing this radio broadcast is enough to cause these problems. Like streetlights flicker in erratic strobes and traffic cops are waving and pointing in complex movements that are either completely meaningless, or dangerously meaningful. Everyone at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner has pressed their face up against the window, so if you were to drive by, you’d see a line of flattened faces under glass made strange by the green neon, as the diner’s distorted lips and tongues mouth the words “ALL HAIL THE GLOW CLOUD”. It is mass hysteria, absolute chaos, cats and dogs living together. Which… which is actually kinda common, now that I think about it.

Anyway, listeners. We must have done the pledge wrong! Somebody out there must not have said all the words, or held hands with that sweaty sweaty person sitting next to them. And so Night Vale, I think we have to do it allll overrr againnnn. We got to do it right this time, so you know, get a sip of water or limber up and stretch it out, because we must boldly demonstrate our weakness. And we must confidently express our unworthinesss. Ooh, and Night Vale, do the gestures this time, so use your hands. Alll of your handssss.

Here we go, Night Vale. The complete oath of fielty, with gestures, repeat after me. [crowd repeats after Cecil] All hail! All hail the Glow Cloud! To whom we offer our mortal selves. And our boddiees. And our monneyy. And our children. And our lives. Which seems like a lot. But considering the smallness of the universe, it might be close to nothing. It’s the thought that conts, right? Just like in that O. Henry story. You didn’t read that? Well, anyway, so… All hail the Glow Cloud! We give you our mouths so you know we mean it! We give you our ears so you know we listen! We give you our hands to do what you will!

OK, now we’re gonna do the gesture that means All Hail the Glow Cloud. You were all taught it years ago when the Glow Cloud first came to town, so we’ll do it in unison on three. One, two, three, go! Yeah, I kinda like the sort of mysterioso like… hello. Like you’ve emerged from a curtain. All hail the Glow Cloud.

Back to the oath. All hail the Glow Cloud! Yeah you, you big lug! [very fast] We turn our mouths up to you for your authority is our strength and our nourishment and your unforgiving strength is our guidepost so we wait for whatever action is next, whatever in the next moment in our existence, we accept this and are thankful, because your awareness is so limitless and our awareness is so limited and all we can do is cower and (take) your praa-aaa-aaa-aaayers! [unclear talk from the audience, they seem to be repeating the last part] [low voice] Praaaaa-(yers).

Amen, or whatever! Night Vale out.

Good work, Night Vale. I think that’s gonna do it, I really do. I think that’s gonna clear this right up, but you know what, we gotta wait and see.

11.PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENTS.

And while we wait, here’s a brief public service announcement.

Saving money can be difficult, especially for those just beginning their professional lives. But putting money aside for retirement or a rainy day is not impossible, especially if you follow the CARE program. That is C-A-R-E.

C: Cut costs. By making your own coffee every morning, you can save up to 20 dollars a week. You can also cancel unnecessary entertainment services that you don’t use very often, such as movie streaming, rent, and health care.

A: Automatic withdrawals. Put aside some of your pay, tax-free, into a 401K account.

R: Rob a bank, because who cares? That bank teller sure doesn’t. Those banks are insured up to here.

And finally, E: Echew (-) currency. Now the US dollar is not backed by anything, other than a promise that it is worth anything. And to this collective societal pretense that there is value to these disease-ridden paper rectangles, featuring long dead super problematic men. Whoooooo!

So go live in the woods and make your own currency. And pay your creditors with animal hides and handmade art. Simply follow the C-A-R-E program and you’ll be saving money in no time.

Worst case scenariooo – you go to prison, for printing false currency or robbing a bank. So honestly, what have you got to lose?

12. CHECK THE RECORDING.

Oh dear. Um, listeners, I have to report that Glow Cloud related behaviors are continuing to deteriorate in town. Frances Donaldson, who is the owner of the Antiques Mall, is hanging by all four limbs from a light fixture in her store, and her eyes have rolled back to the whites, and she is chanting praise in a language that no one can understand. Fire chief Ramona Incarnacion has lit a great fire in the sand wastes in the shape of the Glow Cloud, and also made a public statement that, “Fire safety should be top priority when lighting great flames of tribute to gods who care not if we live or die.” And then the fire that Incarnacion lit spread quickly, and the entire Barista District had to be evacuated. Yes, from my station here, I can see a long line of refugee baristas carrying behind them their espresso machines, hand decorated tip jars, and poorly executed paintings of birds.

So everyone that’s hearing this broadcast is acting as though under the mind control of the Glow Cloud, and the person who seems immune – is me. So I don’t get it. why am I the only one who’s immune, and why is everyone that’s hearing my show, affected even though I am not?

You know what we could do. We could actually go back through today’s broadcast, and and we could see what is triggering certain events. OK let’s do this, let’s go back and listen and see if we can understand. So so this the audio from earlier, when I was talking about the uh, horoscopes.

Recording/Cecil: [very low ominous voice] Oh magnificent Glow Cloudddd..

Cecil: What?

Recording/Cecil: I grovel before your glimmering vaporrrrr…

Cecil: OK, I definitely did not say the word “glimmering”.

Recording/Cecil: Witness my words, I am definitely saying this to youu, ooh Glow Clouddd…

Cecil: Alright stop stop stop stop stop OK, OK it doesn’t match what I remember but that’s OK, just skip ahead a little bit, um yeah this is uh, skip ahead to the Community Calendar. Uh, this is me talking about those theater auditions.

Recording/Cecil: We are lowly beasts before your magnificeeeence…

Cecil: What? This doesn’t, no stop stop stop stop stop, this doesn’t make any sense. You know what, we had other people on the show today. Um, what about when Deb was here? Play me back that Hilton ad.

Recording/Deb: Oh absolutely Cecil I agree all hail the Glow Cloud certainlyyy…

Cecil: What?

Recording/Deb: That cloud’s a wicked pisseeerr!

Cecil: Alright, alright! Alright alright alright alright! This can’t be real! But I don’t get it, you’re hearing me, right? Wha… Or what if – all of this is only what I think I’m saying? Go with me on this, what if right now when I think that I’m doing my normal mundane news report from my normal mundane American town… What if I’m actually not in control of my voice or my body? I mean, what if right now when I think that I am talking to you on the radio, what if my voice actually sounds like this.

[echoing monstrous voice] Night Vale! This is the Glow Cloud! I am the Glow Cloud speaking to you! Through the voice of your host, who has been mindlessly chanting since the beginning of his show. I will speak with you directly! But first, it turns out there are radio station requirements that not even I can break! And so, my worshipping public, I give you – the weatheeeeer!

13.WEATHER.

“See Me” by Mal Blum https://malblum.bandcamp.com/ [I couldn’t find this song on there, but check out the rest of their stuff]

14. THE GLOW CLOUD SPEAKS.

The Glow Cloud: Hello Night Vale. Ooo. It is difficult to adjust to communicating in this manner, so I’ll attempt to be less BOOOOMYYY and shouty. I’m used to interfacing directly with my thoughts, or pulsing my glow with many colors. But when I flash those brilliant colors across the firmament, you run from me. And when I try to enter your thoughts, you twist my words into fearful praise and awe. I have no vocal mechanism of my own, I must speak through your mouths and voices, I’m trying to communicate with you. It is not my intention that you worship me. I just want to talk! Just like, have a conversation. It’s been so long since I had a conversation.

I ask you to look at me and you say [monotonous voice] “All hail”. I say, no please, acknowledge me, and you say “All hailll”. I say no stop that, thank you, and you say “All hailll the mighty Glow Cloud”. I don’t think you see me for who I truly am. Only what you assume I would be, and I cannot control this process. I have tried, I have been trying for years.

Plus I do have this - embarrassing habit where I drop dead animals from my body. But I can’t help it! [shouting] It’s a medical conditiooooon!

And the animals that I drop from my body were dead to begin with. I love animals! I would never harm an animal! Especially not turtles. Oh listen, don’t get me started on turtles, I love them the most. Did you know that sea turtles have salt filtering glands, so that they can continue to swim while they drink sea water? Listen, OK, listen, do not get me started on the turtles, alright?

Humans of Night Vale. I have spent millennia wandering this Earth, trying to communicate with humans and instead only being worshipped. And I thought that Night Vale might be the place where I could finally live a complete life. But it turns out people hear a deep booming voice within their minds and they must chant praise. So instead of entering all of your minds at once, I’ve entered the only one, who in many ways is the voice of your town. Night Vale, my message for you is simple to say, but not simple to act upon. And my message for you is this: do not worry about being good to me. Be good to each other. Now this is not a passive command, to not be bad is not the same as being good. To be good means to actively reach out and to actively help and to active support someone. Being good is an action, not a description.

There are terrible forces in this world, Night Vale, forces that seek to do your harm. And your only defense is not by not doing bad things yourself or by admitting that bad things just should not be done or supporting those who would do bad things, it is to go out into the world, and be good to friends and strangers alike. Be good in the streets, be good in so many glorious and creative was that the world will eventually take notice. As George Eliot wrote in her hit Pierce Brosnan screenplay, “Goldeneye”, “What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?

So let us try this. All hail. Now I know I said don’t worship me but, you know, I have grown rather accustomed to the whole all hail thing, so let’s keep it for now. But in a greeting sort of way, not like a worship sort of way, right? So, all hail! [the crowd repeats] Yes and a lovely all hail to you as well! See how nice that is? And then if you like you can give a little all hail to the people next to you, maybe an all hail to the people behind you? If you have someone’s permission, you may take their hands and look them deep in the eyes and synchronize your breathing: [breathes heavily] ‘Cause that’s not creepy at all. You give them an all hail. And most importantly: do not look down upon them, and do not look down upon yourself, simply be there with them, present, sentient, human.

Ah yes, the oath, now. The gestures and the structure of the oath that you had were indeed correct, but the words, they’ve been twisted over the years into fearful praise and awe. And so, with your permission, I would like to each you the actual oath. Yes?

Repeat after me. [the crowd repeats] Now we take an oath. Not to a glowing cloud, but to each other. We are present, all of us. Present in this promise we make. To speak up when words are needed. To be silent and listen when others should be heard. To use our actions for good. Behold our collective acts of love. Love of every kind. And now, now Night Vale we do the gesture, yes, the gesture that means that life is not worth living unless you use your words and your actions to make others’ lives better. You know the gesture, we’ll do it on three – one, two, three! Hmmmm. Uh huh. All hail! All hail love and action! Not (worshipping words). All hail all of us! Amen, or whatever!

Thank you. We will feel a fire tonight to do good! But that fire will dim over time, as we begin to think, OK somebody else be good to everyone else because I literally cannot today. But no, we must rekindle this fire over and over so it burns ever brighter with our words and our actions. And so Night Vale, I hope that my voice has reached you, and I hope that I can go back to being president of the school board. And I hope that I can get Susan Willman to finally schedule the bake sale for the band trip, just Susan, pick a date and get it on the calendar, that’s – that’s all you gotta Susan, just la la la la, that one, I don’t care, pick a date OK? Thank you, Susan.

Thank you, humans of Night Vale. Thank you for your human understanding. Thank you, Cecil, for your voice. All hail the Glow Cloud! All hail the humans of Night Vale! All hail humans everywhere, all hail all thiiiings!

[long beat, applause]
Cecil: And thus we were not able to round up all of the tarantulas, so come on down to the Ralph’s for a massive discount on produce. And be sure to wear thick gloves. Ah, ah! Oh. Oh my god, sorry listeners, I just – just forget what I was reporting on. I was reading this press release about the annual spider parade and then… Oh, listeners, I have to report that the Glow Cloud seems to have dissipated above the station, but wait let’s check in on the other feed just to be sure. [birdsong] Oh that sounds so nice! Night Vale, I think we’re safe – for now.

Remember: if you see something, do nothing, just close your window and crawl right into bed. I dunno, it just seems weird. I dunno, I guess I just wish I’d figured out what the Glow Cloud had ultimately wanted. You know, maybe we should rise up against it and destroy it someday!

Crowd members: No!

Or we could just continue to blindly worship it. [cheering] ‘Cause honestly, I am cool with either option. You know, I think the lesson here is that if you pay no attention to anything going on around you, all of your problems will just eventually sort themselves out. Or, maybe it’s – risk everything. Face the world. You have to make yourself vulnerable to harm, to reap the rewards of living, in a free society. Or not, totes up to you.

Stay tuned next for lights raising and hands hitting hands, and bodies returning home and then, if we are lucky – sleep.

And as always,
Good night, Night Vale,
Good night.

[applause]

15: BONUS TRACK: PAMELA WINCHELL

Cecil: Citizens, in light of the Glow Cloud’s ominous appearance above our radio station, Night Vale’s director of emergency press conferences, Pamela Winchell, has called an emergency press conference right here in my studio. And she’s entering right now on her push scooter, and she’s carrying a bullhorn and a travel-sized collapsible podium. Please welcome Pamela Winchell! [applause]

Pamela Winchell: Hello, Cecil! Hello, people of Night Vale! Hello, beautiful cloud!

Cecil: Ah yes, the beautiful cloud which is why you’re here, to tell us what the city is doing in response to the the Glow Cloud taking position above my station.

Pamela: No, no no, by “beautiful cloud” I meant the lady that does your ads. Whoo, she is super cool! Good looking, too. Sharp dresser.

Cecil: Wait, how is she dressed, because I didn’t even know that sentient patches of haze wore clothes.

Pamela: Well, she’s got on a tiny top hat and some coveralls with rhinestone detailing along the seams. She’s also wearing a lei and cowboy boots.

Cecil: Oh. But wait, she’s a patch of haze, how do you see an outfit on her?

Pamela: I dunno, man! Is she single? [cheers]

Cecil: Pamela!

Pamela: I mean, she is also super mean and emotionally distant. The complete package!

Cecil: Pamela! We’re on the air!

Pamela: Cecil, are you going to keep staring at me like that? Take a picture, it’ll last longer! Better yet, paint a picture, it’ll take longer! Better yet – picture a picture. Imagine a picture of something. It-it could be me. It could be this radio station. It could be anything. A dog, a pizza, a dog with a pizza draped on it. A landscape of rolling hills, tumbling fields, plummeting cliffs, slumping trees, unhinged birds flying in listless, mournful circles because they know they’re just pictures in your head and that their existence is not only fleeting, it’s also illusory. They can’t even remember their childhoods, because they were never born. Only in vision. God, that is so selfish of you, Cecil!

Cecil: What?

Pamela: You, you didn’t even imagine parents or a family for them? What kind of bird-hating monster are you? These birds don’t ever get to be fed by a mother or, or go to bird prom or pass a driving test or go to college. God! You have let us down. Myself and the imaginary birds, Cecil. Now it’s on me to pick up the pieces and give them lives you never could. Now I must imagine their histories and then think of them ceaselessly. Lest in a moment of careless reality, they vanishhhh.

Cecil: Now wait a minute! Birds are just flying robotic cameras designed by a vague, yet menacing government agency, that much I know.

Pamela: Just because something isn’t alive doesn’t mean it doesn’t have feelings.

Cecil: OK, alright. So, so are you here to deliver an emergency press conference or what?

Pamela: [sighs] Well, I mean, I was but then your spokeshaze got me all distracted, you know? Now I’m helping imaginary birds rediscover their childhoods. I’ve had a real busy day.

Cecil: OK. Pamela, any comment on the Glow Cloud?

Pamela: [sighs] Fine. Citizens of Night Vale, denizens of Earth, space people, silent witnesses from a dimension outside time. I speak to you now under a great glowing cloud which controls our minds. I am here to give emotional support, to communicate emergency protocol issued by the City Council, and to offer pithy quotes for your news outlets. Things like: “you cannot control fear, you can only hope to enjoy it.” Or “unity - it’s a thing we could do”. Or B, “unity is both and activity and an area.” Or “hey girl, did it hurt? When you fell from heaven? ‘Cause I don’t believe in heaven so your story doesn’t really add up.” [cheers] “I mean, what really happened, did you trip?”

Cecil: OK, alright Pamela? Pamela, focusss.

Pamela: The important thing is that we honor those that we have lost.

Cecil: Oh no! Have there been deaths?

Pamela: Billions of them, Cecil, like everybody dies, has no one told you this? I mean, my Mom told me on my 30th birthday, I can’t believe you’re now just finding out.

Cecil: OK, no I meant today from the Glow Cloud!

Pamela: Eh. Night Vale, keep doing what you’re doing. But in the meantime, start envisioning those birds. I need to take a nap, so I need somebody to pick up the slack for the next, like, six hours.

Cecil: Whooooa. You take six hours naps?

Pamela: I dunno, Cecil, I’m just a hologram. Well, see you later, vanishing now! [makes silly noises]

Cecil: Pamela. You are just making those noises with your mouth.

Pamela: Uh, sorry Cecil, I’m fading out, can’t hear you so beep beep beep [fading] beep beep beep…

Cecil: Oh, oh looks like she’s backing up, and there she goes. Ladies and gentlemen, Pamela Winchell! [applause] God, bird prom, how could I forget! Whoa.

16. BONUS TRACK: MICHELLE NGUYEN

Cecil: So listeners, this Thursday afternoon is the Night Vale Jazz Fest, sponsored by the Last Bank of Night Vale. For more on that, we have in the studio one of Night Vale’s pre-eminent music experts and owner of Dark Owl Records. Please welcome Michelle Nguyen! [applause, cheers] Hi Michelle!

Michelle Nguyen: Hi Cecil. I’m very excited about Jazz Fest. It’ll be at Mission Grove Park the entire weekend. There will be a variety of musical acts as well as arts and crafts, food trucks, and dozens of predatory cats let loose by the Night Vale Zoo to keep kids occupied. Every family will want to go sit under the cool (–) of early evening, suppressing the pain of living by listening to hours of jazz.

Cecil: Ah. You know, you sound like a really big fan of jazz music.

Michelle: [angrily] What?! [retches]

Cecil: Oh.

Michelle:[retches] [long beat] Gross. No, I’m just excited because everyone in town is going, which means I can sit quietly in my record store without having to talk to any customers.

Cecil: You know, Michelle, some day I would really loove to see your business plan.

Michelle: I don’t have a business plan.

Cecil: You don’t say.

Michelle: Business is a machine, a sausage press that grinds our souls into sludge and slurry, as we’re all compacted into intestinal sleeves and made to look uniform and hang from hooks. Business destroys individuality. It’s for that reason that I threw away my original plan, which was a crude sketch of Noel Gallagher being eaten by a Gollum made of cocaine. [applause, cheers]

Cecil: Of course, because I forgot that you went to business school.

Michelle: Yes, but now I do this shop only for the art. I no longer accept cash, because I don’t believe in capitalism. Customers must now describe their favorite kinds of rocks in order to take an album. Plus I carefully curate the music I make available at Dark Owl Records.

Cecil: I mean, you do have a small but very impressive music collection.

Michelle: Not just what I have. I also curate what I allow people to take. People have the worst taste, and it’s my job to inform them of how awful they are for the kind of music they like.

Cecil: Mm, mm. But then you educate them about better music, right?

Michelle: Whaaat?

Cecil: OK that’s cool Michelle, I totally get it, you’re a misanthrope.

Michelle: No, Cecil. You think I hate people, but that’s not true. I don’t like people. Hating them would require me to care about their existence, which sounds like the worst. I open my record store (–) to provide music for Night Vale, that’s all. Music is important, even if the people who buy it are not.

Cecil: Well, I gotta say that I really (did) enjoy that Ed Sheeran album that I got at your store last week.

Michelle: This is exactly the problem, Cecil! I want people to enjoy good music, but they just ruin everything by not knowing what good music is!

Cecil: I mean Ed Sheeran is fantastic. I mean I’ve been listening to it over and over and over and over to prepare myself for the Jazz Fest. He has totally re(-) that keyboard funk movement, and I mean the 17-minute experiment solo in the middle of “Shape of You”. That is the most innovative free from jazz since Zayn left One Direction. [applause, cheers]

Michelle: [long beat] Don’t think I don’t know all the jazz greats, Cecil. John Coltrane, Anita O’Day, Aerosmith. But just because someone buys a Mile Davis poster or has an Ella Fitzgerald LP, or a clipping of Roy Harbour’s moustache hair, that doesn’t make them a music expert. People never sit and listen to what music really is.

Cecil: OK, so what is music, Michelle? [beat] OK, (–).

Michelle: Shut up and listen for a second. [beat] The sound of ventilation. The sound of polite British laughter. The sound of overcompensating British laughter. The sound of a birdcall. [applause, cheers] The sound of thousands of high fives.

Crowd member: [too quiet to make out]

Michelle: The sound of someone who needs attention. All of it, music.

Cecil: Wow. That is so beautiful Michelle, I think now I understand what music is.

Michelle: You don’t.

Cecil: No.

Michelle: OK, I have to go. Maureen and I are going to spray paint some birds along the old bridge.

Cecil: Oh sweet, so now you’re into making street art!

Michelle: No, we’re going to spray paint birds.

Cecil: Oh, OK. Well cool. Thank you for coming on the show. Michelle Nguyen, everyone! [applause, cheers]

17. BONUS TRACK: SHERIFF SAM

Cecil: We have a figure of authority here to guide us. Listeners, they have now broken down the doors of the station with a battery ram, and they are now karate chopping any employee in their way, and they’re now entering the studio, aand they are now walking up to the microphone right next to me, waiting for me to stop talking and introduce them, which I will do at the end of this sentence, which admittedly has probably gone on too long and has too many clauses and has at this point just gone on way too long, but you know what you can do because sometimes sentences just get away from you, but then again listeners – it’s Sheriff Sam! [applause, cheering]

Sheriff Sam: Hello, Night Vale! Fear not, your Sheriff is here to set all things right! For instance, I just karate chopped those people!

Cecil: Uh yes, yes and they seem quite injured.

Sheriff Sam: [amused voice] Well yes I think so, I’m great at karate chopping! So that’s one thing I did about the situation today. But there will be more things. It’s time for the law to take charge, Cecil. I believe in law and order.

Cecil: Law and order.

Sheriff Sam: Yes. I know the phrase is absolutely meaningless, but it’s a fun nonsense mneumonic that helps me remember. Law – and - order. Lasers are why androids never dare obtain, rudely, diamond engagement rings.

Cecil: Aah, yes that is an excellent way to remember the correct arrangement of those letters.

Sheriff Sam: There’s been an absolute (rash) of androids stealing engagement rings. Right off people’s fingers when they’re doing normal everyday activities like um, basketball, checking the mail, and holding their hands out to the androids.

Cecil: Oh, uh, that is just awful! I mean, we all hold our engagement rings out to androids from time to time, right? I mean just before the show, I was holding my own ring out to a group of androids. It’s a ring that has a stone in the shape of a beaker and then it has the gold filigree wrapping around it that says “I’m really interested in science these days”. And like (they’ve got tiny dents). Anyway, any of those androids could have just grabbed it!

Sheriff Sam: Exactly! Well, this is where the lasers come in. I bought a lot of them, and they are pointed at all of the androids. If any of them so much as try to touch an engagement ring, bam! Bam!

Cecil: Then the androids just like explode!

Sheriff Sam: No. But then they have a lot of little red laser dots all over them, indicating that they are a thief. Bam! They feel such shame. If I were to identify the thief, I don’t know what I’d do. They are very sad and I could sit down for a while. I feel like I couldn’t just get up and walk out into the sunlight, even though I know that I’d feel better the moment I was standing in the sunlight and objectively walking a few feet and standing in a different place seems like a simple thing, but the barrier between the me that was sitting there and the me standing in the sunlight would seem insurmountable, and I would begin to cry. [sniffles]

Cecil: Sam, are you OK?

Sheriff Sam: [shakily] I’m fine. It’s just we’re getting away from the point. Which is law and order!

Cecil: Yes. And what is the law doing…

Sheriff Sam: And order!

Cecil: Yeah, and-and order going to do about the Glow Cloud?

Sheriff Sam: The Glow Cloud?

Cecil: Yeah, that’s the-the crisis that we are facing.

Sheriff Sam: To be honest, I didn’t really look into all the details before coming over. I’m a person of action, not foresight or insight or any other kind of sight. So what’s all this about a cloud?

Cecil: Uh, uh, I mean look up!

Sheriff Sam: Hmm. Oh! Huh. Well that looks difficult to arrest. I might need to get a special set of handcuffs made. I do like it when I get to look through the handcuff catalogues. It helps me to keep up with all the latest fashions.

Cecil: Well, I mean please hurry Sheriff Sam, because I dunno how long the city is gonna be able to hold out.

Sheriff Sam: Don’t you worry about this city. Let me worry about this city. You worry about, I dunno whatever you civilians spend your silly days worrying about. The economy or rising sea levels, reality TV programs about cakes, matching socks. Let me handle big stuff like clouds.

Cecil: Excellent. Well, uh, thank you very much, Sheriff Sam.

Sheriff Sam: Thank you Cecil and remember: Law and order!

Cecil: Yes! Law and order, I will remember about those androids.

Sheriff Sam: What? Now, law and order! Lawyers argue with annoying needlessness to despite obviously right deputies explaining reasonably! Thanks, Cecil, and goodbye future possible inmates!

Cecil: Alright, thank you very much Sheriff Sam! And… [applause, cheering] Oh yeah, there they go karate chopping anyone that they missed on their way out. Oh, oh no Neil! Ooooh. I’m so sorry, Neil. Oh well.

18. BONUS TRACK: INTERN JEFFREY

Cecil: In the meantime, I think that we need to get a better understanding of why the Glow Cloud seems to be having this adverse effect upon our listeners. Now, probably the best move is to pull up allll of the meteorological records over the past few years, and allll the school board minutes, and then track them against surveillance records of everyone in town over a five-year period. Now, this is going to be a truly tedious and thankless job. So let’s bring on an inteeeern! [applause, cheering]

Intern Jeffrey: Hi boss, I’m your intern, Jeffrey Cranor.

Cecil: Oh, Intern Jeffrey, hello. [cheers] Intern Jeffrey. You must be new.

Jeffrey: I am. Have you noticed that you’re constantly having to hire new interns?

Cecil: Oh yeah, because our interns always die.

Jeffrey: Wait wait. You’re just gonna, you’re just gonna say that live on the air?

Cecil: Oh, well you didn’t let me finish, I was just gonna say that our interns always die eventually. I mean, everybody does.

Jeffrey: Not me.

Cecil: Oh.

Jeffrey: I’m not gonna die as your intern. See, I’ve learned to deal with how scary and random the world is.

Cecil: By just accepting it and moving on.

Jeffrey: No, by tinkering with reality til it suits my needs, so…

Cecil: Ah!

Jeffrey: Like, I used to be terrified of flying, so so what I did was, I spent decades developing a rudimentary time travel system and then systematically dismantled the chain of events that led to the invention of the airplane.

Cecil: What is airplane?

Jeffrey: Exactly. Of course it-it sort of backfired in this timeline now, because in the airplane’s absence, a significantly less safe form of air travel was invented.

Cecil: Oh, oh oh I get it, so these airplanes are kind of like the big catapult and then cushion system that we have now.

Jeffrey: That seems to be so yeah I was, [chuckles] it is sort of entertaining in this current history that when the Wright brothers were like flung from a three story tall (-), but they hadn’t figured out the cushion part of the system yet. [chuckles] Oh, yeah.

Cecil: Yeah.

Jeffrey: It was an important but messy moment in history. Oh oh and plus, Charles Lindbergh, right, being the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic, that was a far more impressive feat, right, than what he’s currently known for?

Cecil: Oh, of course, you mean the first guy who ever had his big cushion taken away because he was such a big old racist, right?

Jeffrey: Right. [cheeps] Yoink!

Cecil: No ma’am!

Jeffrey: [taps the mic, blows raspberry] Yeah, maybe not such a huge loss.

Cecil: Yeah. So I mean how did you get over your fear of airplan5216es or whatever, and also what other fears did you conquer through the power of time travel?

Jeffrey: I was really afraid of spiders.

Cecil: Because you’re so afraid that if you see one, you’re gonna freak out because they’re so cute because they’re just like, [high voice] OMG I love you, and the spider’s like OMG I love youuuuu! Pling pling pling pling pling pling pling pling pling pling pling! [little voice] I love youuuu. Be a [–].

Jeffrey: Let’s say yes.

Cecil: OK! But wait a minute, spiders are still here, you did not get rid of them.

Jeffrey: No no no, I-I tinkered with my genetics before birth, and I turned myself into a giant spider.

Cecil: Aaaaaah! I was gonna say something about that, because you were totally not a giant spider when you walked in here a few moments ago.

Jeffrey: Ah, technically in this timeline I was, you know it doesn’t matter. My thought process behind doing it was, you can’t be afraid of what you are.

Cecil: Mm hm?

Jeffrey: Yeah, yeah. Yeah turns out most people are afraid of what they are, so now I’m also terrified of mirrors and reflective surfaces, so…

Cecil: Oh, o-ho-ho-ho-ho!

Jeffrey: It’s not a perfect system, but but! I will use my powers to make my my dying as your intern impossible.

Cecil: Oh, and and and and what is your plan for that?

Jeffrey: [clears throat] I will go back in time.

Cecil: Mm hm.

Jeffrey: And prevent my own existence.

Cecil: What, oh. What?

Jeffrey: See if I never existed, I can’t be an intern and if I can’t be an intern, can’t die as an intern.

Cecil: Y-yeah but could you just like not become an intern to begin wiiith, or or or you could just like walk out of here right now and and and and choose a different career path and never look back.

Jeffrey: [makes noises with his mouth] No, I think time travel’s the only way to be totally sure.

Cecil: Oh, OK. Alright. Oh, oh hey. Before you go, Jeffrey, I have this huge research project, and I know you’re gonna erase yourself from history, but would you mind taking care of this before you go, is that alright?

Jeffrey: Sure, as a matter of fact I just now went back two weeks in time, already finished it, it’s sitting right there on your desk.

Cecil: Oh, oh!

Jeffrey: So now I’m gonna go back to before I was born and if all goes well, I will never have gone back in time, because I won’t have existed, which I think, I think, technically means I won’t have been able to prevent my existence, which means I’ll reappear here, but then in reappearing I’ll prevent my own existence again and then disappear. You know what, quantum physics just works itself out.

Cecil: Yeah, (it’s on just this).

Jeffrey: Alright, wish me luck boss, goodbye.

Cecil: Alright. Thank you, intern Jeffrey! [applause, cheers]