Mostly Void, Partially Stars

by Joseph Fink

  [Back to original ambience]

  Listeners, I have some bad news and some good news. Dana is dead. But the other Dana is alive. I don’t know which is the original and which is the double. Right now, one of the Danas is standing above her own corpse, panting. I cannot tell if she is grinning or grimacing. When I went in, she had clutched in one hand a broken stapler and in the other a printout of this e-mail from . . . oh god, and this is the bad news I was talking about . . . an e-mail from Steve Carlsberg.

  I don’t even want to read an e-mail from that jerk, but if printing it out was one of the Dana’s final actions, I must honor her efforts. Steve (ugh), so Steve writes: “This sandstorm is clearly a cover-up. I believe this was a government-created project. Our government has long been participating in cloud-seeding experiments and trying to suppress the people with pharmaceuticals. I believe that this government will stop at nothing in order to—”

  Now, you listen here, Steve Carlsberg. You’re not saying anything new, Steve. Of course the sandstorm was created by the government! The City Council announced that this morning. The government makes no secret that they can control weather and earthquakes and monitor thoughts and activities. That’s the stuff a big government is supposed to do. Obviously, you’ve never read the Constitution.

  Okay, sure, government can be very inefficient and sometimes bloated and corrupt, but the answer is not to complain about everything that they do. Without government, we would never have schools or roads or municipal utilities or helpful pandemics or black vans that roam our neighborhoods at night keeping us safe. So please, Steve Carlsberg, I’ve had enough of your government-bashing.

  [Deep hum]

  And with that dear listeners, let’s go to the—

  Oh my. Look at that. Listeners, there is a black, almost indigo, vortex that has formed along my studio wall. Listeners, words fail me. It is so beautiful. I can’t leave you, as our show is not yet over. But. There must be something beyond this something, Night Vale. I must see what it is. I must go. I will try not to be long, listeners.

  [Last line, voice fading away from the mic, shouting as he runs away]

  I will try not to be long.

  [Long silence, just the hum]

  KEVIN: Hello. Hello, Desert Bluffs? What is this studio? Hey there, Desert Bluffs, I don’t know if you can hear me. Kevin here. I don’t know where I am. It’s a radio studio, but the walls are darker, the equipment looks much older. Certainly much dryer than it should be. This microphone was made . . . when? Have I gone back in time? Vanessa, are you in the booth?

  Listeners, if you can hear me, I am in a strange place. I do not know if I am in Desert Bluffs or if anyone can hear me. The sandstorm rages outside. The vortex is still there only it’s black, almost a deep blue. There’s a low hum: I do not know if this is the portal or the storm or my own body. There is a photo here on the desk. It is a man. He is wearing a tie. He is not tall or short. Not thin or fat. He has eyes like mine and a nose like mine. And hair like mine. But I do not think he is me. Maybe it is the smile. Is that a smile? I can’t say.

  I do hope he is safe, whoever, wherever he is. I hope I am safe wherever, whoever I am. It is night. I think it is night. It is night. You may not know me, nor I you, but we have this mic, and this voice, and your warm ears blossoming open to hear comforting secrets and the vibrations of a voice that pulse so deep into your body your heart relaxes for a time.

  And we have this sitting right here on this odd and bloodless desk. So now, dear listeners, whoever you are, I give you: the weather.

  WEATHER: “Eliezer’s Waltz” by The Ventura Klezmer Band

  [Cecil’s voice again. Humming is gone.]

  CECIL: Hello. Night Vale? I told you I would be back. It took longer than I thought, but I have returned from whatever horrible place I have gone. Along the way, in the vortex, I saw a grotesque man. A foul devil of a man. And he attacked me. I tried to choke him to death, but I remembered. I remembered what I told you. And I let him live. I let that woeful beast live.

  I am sure he is not without his wounds and bruises, and I pity that he must return to that awful, awful place from whence he came and to where I most unfortunately visited. But, somehow, I am happy he is alive. That I am alive. That you are alive. That we are alive.

  Outside, the winds are subsiding. The sun is sweeping away our pains. I am sure there is blood staining the streets. The graffiti of our sins, the writings of an immoral but necessary battle, I presume. The bodies of some, replaced by others who were, we were, all the same to begin with.

  And we are healing. Those of us, whoever we are, who survived. Those others of us, whoever we are, who conquered. Whoever you are now, you are home. We are home, Night Vale. You and I are together again. My mouth, your ears. We have each other. And for now, and always, goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.

  PROVERB: Step one: Write down the names of everyone you know.

  Step two: Rearrange the letters.

  Step three: This will reveal a great secret of time.

  EPISODE 19B:

  “THE SANDSTORM”

  MARCH 15, 2013

  GUEST VOICE: KEVIN R. FREE

  Monday, December 17, 2012 at 12:03 PM

  From: Jeffrey Cranor

  To: Kevin R. Free

  Subject: Ahoy!

  Hi Kevin R. Free!

  Hey, so you know the podcast Joseph and Cecil and I have been doing for the past few months? I don’t know if you’ve listened to it before, but I was interested to see if you wanted to do a little (actually kind of big) reading for it?

  SO I FINALLY SAT DOWN AND LISTENED TO THE PODCAST AND GOT MY world rocked.

  To me, Desert Bluffs was so like Night Vale: Steve Carlsberg made an appearance? there was an old woman named Josephine? there were dying interns and there were cats. But it was also clear from the writing that it was so different: They wanted someone sunny and nice and pleasant to be the radio host of this newly corporate-run town. A cast member, not an employee. A friend, not a teacher or a student. Someone who equaled much less than the sum of the town’s parts. This town where cute pets include puppies and spiders? where benched baseball players pore over spreadsheets? where people’s doubles are welcomed to help increase productivity? and where hugging and fighting are very similar. And still, all roads lead to Internet cat videos. I knew I could do this. I had waited tables in a bunch of corporate establishments. I knew how better than any of their other friends named Kevin to hide all my black rage with a smile. AND THEN FOCUS IT INTO A MIC.

  I made one decision: make my voice higher than it already is to contrast with Cecil’s basso profondo. Joseph recorded me in his apartment. Then, listening to the episode, Jeffrey sent me a text about how he was crying at his desk. I have chosen to believe that was a compliment.

  It was lost on me until I listened to episodes 19A and B that it was a DOUBLE episode about DOUBLES. But I think that’s the power of all the Welcome to Night Vale episodes: so much is lost on us till we listen to them again. Each episode has more layers than an angry black ex-waiter.

  —Kevin R. Free, Voice of Strexcorp’s Kevin

  KEVIN: The future is what you make of it. Just know that your supplies are limited.

  WELCOME TO DESERT BLUFFS.

  Good afternoon, Desert Bluffs! This is Kevin bringing you all your news and good spirits for another gorgeous day in the Bluffs. But before we get too comfortable, there is some news about that gorgeous day. We’re getting word that a sandstorm is moving in toward us. Authorities are telling us that it is a doozy, and that we should all stay indoors. Nothing to worry about. Just stay out of the way. It will pass. As with life, and as with all things, it will pass. The sun will be upon us again, and it will be like two mornings in a day. Yes. A two-morning day! A rebirth! A reawakening! What do you think of that, Desert Bluffs?

  Intern Vanessa did point out that sandstorms can do a lot of damage to cars, and if you have access to a garage, you should bring your car in. Also, get thos
e pets inside, Desert Bluffs! We don’t want all those cute little puppies and spiders and baby raccoons getting lost out in the sandy breeze. Bring those loved ones inside.

  A little factoid for you . . . Ted, our staff weatherman, says that no one really knows what causes sandstorms. God, he thinks. Or maybe they’re just big gusts of wind that carry big things of sand. How much sand do you think there is in this world? There’s got to be a lot, a lot, of sand. Who even counts it all? Wow, big questions today, Desert Bluffs. Big questions.

  So, keep your radios tuned in here, as we’ll bring you all the latest reports from today’s sandstorm and how you can make up for all this lost time. Hiding from nature is taking away a lot of business productivity, Desert Bluffs, but I’m sure you’ll find time to get done what needs to get done. You won’t disappoint your town, your home. I believe in you. So mark down the time you spend cowering from the weather, okay? And we’ll work that time back into your schedule. Great!

  And, listen, get all that time in before the weekend, because this Saturday it’s baseball season again! Desert Bluffs has just a great team this year. New manager Samantha Figgins is not only the first manager to get hired straight out of business school, but she also brings a powerful ethos of teamwork, fun, and responsibility.

  Last year’s Sunbeams team had some excellent games, but they spent a lot of time just sitting on the bench with nothing to do, because only one person gets to bat at a time. This season, Figgins plans to keep her boys active with customer orders and accounts receivable spreadsheets.

  Baseball is not an individual sport. They’re all in it together. As Figgins says, “It’s not about winning and losing or who you’re playing. It’s about building the strongest possible team brand.”

  The Sunbeams also welcome a new owner in 2013—Strexcorp Synernists, Inc. Look around you. Strex. Look inside you. Strex. Go to sleep. Strex. Believe in a smiling god. Strexcorp: It is everything.

  Let’s have a peek at traffic.

  The Highway Department says all roads are running smoothly. Smooth roads. Smooth concrete. Smooth tires. The slow, undulating buzz of cars over slight hills. Hardtop streets gently gliding us all to our jobs and back home. The beat, beat, beat of society’s healthy heart as we all play parts in its exquisite body.

  Oh, I am getting one report that there are several stalled cars in the northbound lanes of Route 800, near Exit 66. Police are on the scene dealing with fistfights in the middle of the road. Now, I can’t imagine why in a beautiful town with so many kinds of yogurt stores and pony-petting stations, anyone would want to fight his neighbor, so hopefully that gets cleared up soon with a song and a hug.

  I want to thank all you listeners for your calls and e-mails. The sandstorm came to town more quickly than expected. Lawrence Lavine, out in the Edgertown Development, called in to say that the sand was like sand but slightly different. That if you touched it, you could feel it . . . twice. Lawrence said he took a scoop of sand into his soft right hand and it was as if he had two right hands. He then held the sand with both soft palms and felt four hands, like one of those foreign gods or radioactive four-armed deer that seem to be attracted to the new Strexcorp distribution center. Lawrence said he was making a sand angel and then he saw himself. He said he just walked right up to himself and started making two sand angels. He said that there were two of him just making sand angels, and that he would happily double his sand angel production today. He hung up the phone laughing like Vanessa had never heard him laugh.

  Well, thank you, Lawrence. That was a useful report. Intern Vanessa also tells me she’s keeping an eye on Facebook to see if our other neighbors have any news of the storm. I see Grandma Josephine posted a photo of a lovely bouquet of white lilies outside her door. Very pretty. Oh and look at this video, Vanessa! This cat just jumps in and out of boxes. That is adorable. Vanessa, can you tweet that to me?

  Let’s have a look at financial news. The markets are jumping today. Really jumping. The markets are up and down, but then back up again, like gravity and our fight to break it. The violent force of impact: ground to heel, heel to shin, shin to knee. And then back up again, muscular might and the threat of flight. A young boy heals his wounds as quickly as they form, jumping and pounding and hitting and soaring. He reaches skyward, the drift of the body disconnected from its earth gives the flutter of wings not just on the back but in the belly. The moment between knowing you are mortal and bound to the ground and then dreaming you have awakened a great power to fly like those hollowed-out rodents that clog our skies with feathers and fluids. It’s in that moment of knowing and unknowing, consciousness and bliss that the boy sees all that can never be. Upon his return to the flat, hard truth, he sees things, himself, others as they should be seen: as his equals. He gives the jumping one more go. But the magic is gone. Another. Still none. One more for old time’s sake. No. It will never be the same. Well, maybe. One more. Still another. He jumps and jumps and jumps. The jumping makes a sound. Like thunder. Like drums. Like steps. Soon he is old. The ups and the downs lack even the memory of the magic. They have replaced nostalgia with creaking, painful bones. He is old now, still jumping.

  This has been financial news.

  This just in, Desert Bluffs: Mayor Pablo Mitchell has declared today Sandstorm Day. This massive sandstorm has already damaged several apartments and malls in the northwest part of town and it seems to be on course for even more costly wreckage. So Mayor Mitchell announced that we can all take today off of work. Today is a citywide holiday. A second announcement, coming from a man that looked and dressed like the mayor said that we can make up some of our lost hours by teaming up with our doubles. The two joined together for an inspirational call to work together with these magical doppelgängers.

  Is this true, Desert Bluffs? If so, what a blessed and wonderful event to bring us doubles of ourselves. I am stuck inside—doing a job I very much love, of course—but if I were you, I would run outside into the sandy afternoon air and try to meet your other. How exciting.

  So make friends with your mirrored colleague, Desert Bluffs! Think of what we could accomplish if there were two of all of us!

  [Muffled thump or crashing sound]

  Oh dear. What was that noise?

  Vanessa? Is everything okay in there, Vanessa? Who are you talk-ing to?

  Vanessa—Oh! There are two of you! What are y—

  [Muffled crashing sounds, more intense]

  Oh you’re building a new shelving unit! Let me help you with that. I’m coming in there. Let’s go to an important message from our parent company.

  [Sudden shift in sound/ambient music]

  Got something to say? Need to say it? Unfulfilled? Never made sense of what you are? Who you were? What you will be? Unfulfilled? Do you forget sometimes about your own skin? Your own hair? Other people’s hair and skin? Can you make more hair? More skin? Do you need more hair and/or skin? Unfulfilled? Are you satisfied with it all? Do you see it all? What room are you in? What room do you want to be in? How big is your room? Unfulfilled? Have you ever said a thing inside your brain and then sent it to your hand to move a pencil to write it into symbols onto a paper, which used to be a tree, and then used your eyes to translate those symbols back into the thing you just said inches away in your brain and then re-said it with your mouth into an ear? Whose ear was it? Unfulfilled? Ever eaten things that made you think differently? Breathed things? Unfulfilled? Feel things? Felt things? We are you. Strexcorp.

  [Back to original ambience]

  Welcome back. Listeners, I have some bad news and some good news. Vanessa and her other Vanessa broke one of the parts of the new shelving unit, and I don’t think we have anything to replace it. One of the Vanessas cut her head pretty badly. When I went in, Vanessa—I think our original Vanessa—was standing over her with a staple gun and a clean, wet rag.

  She also handed me a printout of an e-mail from one of our listeners. Well, I presume he’s a listener, I’ve never heard of him. He claims to
live in Night Vale. I had no idea those folks down in Night Vale could get our tiny little radio station, Vanessa. How wonderful. You know, in all my years I have never gone to Night Vale. I bet it’s beautiful. Really, this whole desert is beautiful. I mean, when it comes right down to it, why would you ever leave Desert Bluffs? How can it get better, really? I wouldn’t risk it.

  So Steve writes, “This sandstorm is clearly a cover-up. I believe this was a government-created project. Our government has long been participating in cloud-seeding experiments and—”

  Let me stop you right there, Steve Carlsberg. You have hit the nail on the head. Say no more. The government is indeed covering up their involvement, or should I say lack of involvement in this sandstorm. Honestly, I don’t think the government even knows how to orchestrate a project of this magnitude and of this quality. You need a well-run private business like, say, Strexcorp that has not only the faculties and materials to execute a massive geologic and psychedelic storm but to do so inexpensively and without tax dollars. Why, without Strexcorp, and companies like it, we wouldn’t have trade schools, or regulated behaviors, or insurance, or helpful pandemics, or black helicopters. Thank you for your e-mail, Steve. What a great guy!

  [Deep hum]

  And with that listeners, let’s go to the—

  Oh my. Look at that. Listeners, there is a white, almost pink, vortex that has formed along my studio wall. Listeners, words fail me. It is so beautiful. I can’t leave you, as our show is not yet over. But. There must be something beyond this something, Desert Bluffs. I must see what it is. I must go. I will try not to be long, listeners.

  [Last line, voice fading away from the mic, shouting as he runs away] I will try not to be long.

  [Long silence, just the hum]

  CECIL: Hello. Hello, Night Vale? What is this studio? What is this damnable studio? Night Vale, I do not know if you can hear me. This is Cecil, and I do not know where I am. It is clearly a radio studio, but the walls are covered in blood, and instead of dials and buttons on the soundboard, there is just animal viscera, glistening under the green LED lights. I hope this microphone works. Am I in hell? Dana. Dana, can you hear me?