1.10 – Pilot

Carlos and his team of scientists warned that one of the houses in the new development of Desert Creek out back of the elementary school doesn’t actually exist.

It seems like it exists, explained Carlos and his perfect hair. Like it’s just right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But, he says, they have done experiments, and the house is definitely not there.

At news time, the scientists are standing in a group on the sidewalk in front of the non-existent house, daring each other to go knock on the door.

1.16 – Pilot

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens and the hierarchy of angels.

The reminder is that you should not know anything about this. The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are privileged information, known only to City Council members on a need-to-know basis.

Please, do not speak to or acknowledge any angels that you may come across while shopping at the Ralph’s, or at the Desert Flower Arcade Bowling Alley & Fun Complex.

They only tell lies and do not exist.

Report all angel sightings to the City Council for treatment.

5.12 – The Shape In Grove Park

Speaking of which, the Night Vale school district has announced some changes to the elementary school curriculum. They are as follows.

In response to parent feedback, history class will focus more heavily on textbook readings and traditional exams, rather than live ammo drills. Geology is adding a new type of rock, on the grounds that it’s been a while since anyone has done that. The new type of rock is “vimbi,” and it is categorized by its pale blue color and the fact that it is completely edible. Points will be awarded to the first student to discover a real-world example of it.

Math and English are switching names. Their curriculum will stay exactly the same. Astronomy will now be conducting stargazing sessions only with blindfolds on every participant, in order to protect them from the existential terror of the void. Also, Pluto has been declared imaginary.

All classrooms will be equipped with at least one teacher physically present for the entire instruction period. Astral projection will no longer be used in any classroom situation. Finally, in addition to the current foreign language offerings of Spanish, French, and Modified Sumerian, schools will now be offering Double Spanish, Weird Spanish, Coptic Spanish, Russian, and Unmodified Sumerian.

6.9 – The Drawbridge

And now, a word from our sponsors.

[Cecil wordlessly groans for several seconds.]

And now, traffic.

There’s a stalled car on the northbound on-ramp to the Eastern Expressway just south of Route 800. Commuters should have little delays, as highway patrol is fiercely denying this report. In fact, police representatives have just issued a statement claiming that there are no cars anywhere, and, “What are you doing, talking about them, talking silly lies? You silly people. There are no cars! What is this fiction? Oh, please, did you seriously believe for a second–? Wait, wait, you thought that cars were real?” The highway patrol continued, “Oh, that is rich.”

All other roads seem clear. Expect delays, of course, at the drawbridge construction site, because it is years away from being competently finished.

7.2 – History Week

Hello there. As you well know, faithful listeners, it is Night Vale History Week, in which we all learn a little bit about what made our bustling little town what it is. Or, as the official motto released by the City Council goes: “Poke about in the black recesses of the past until it devours our fragile present.”

In the interest of civic participation, Night Vale Community Radio will be pitching in with short lessons about some points of interest from our town’s history, starting with 4000 BC. Archaeologists believe that this is the earliest date of human settlement in Night Vale. Little remains of these ancient inhabitants, except a few cave paintings of their towns and their hunting practices, and of the dark shapes that would watch them in the distance… inhuman, shimmering shapes that never came closer or farther away, but whose presence could be felt even with eyes shut tight, huddled in fur and the company of another human’s naked skin.

Or so I’m extrapolating from the evidence. The cave paintings mainly resemble smudges now, after their original discoverer attempted to power-wash them off the wall because he, on religious grounds, did not believe in the past.

7.13 – History Week

The Night Vale Business Association announced today that the Night Vale Harbor & Waterfront Recreation Area was not actually something that ever existed in reality, but was instead a shared hallucination of the entire town’s population. As such, they are proud to declare that they have never suffered any sort of disastrous business failure, and the reportedly massive amounts of money lost on building waterfront facilities in a desert are fabrications of our collective consciousness. They recommend consulting your dream interpretation manuals to determine exactly what this Night Vale Harbor vision could mean.

They also said that if you happen to stumble on the waterfront buildings out in the desert, exactly where you remembered them, and they seem completely real, standing as vacant and useless as the day they were built, that’s because you are still hallucinating and should seek medical treatment immediately— or have a member of the City Council howl at you, if you are of the Olden Faith and do not believe in modern medicine.

8.11 – The Lights In Radon Canyon

This just in. We’re receiving word from the City Council that there was absolutely not a Pink Floyd Multimedia Laser Spectacular this weekend at Radon Canyon. That there was never a Pink Floyd Multimedia Laser Spectacular ever near Night Vale. “Pink Floyd is not even a thing,” said the Council, in a very stern but quiet statement just received by me, here, via phone.

The Council— and this is strange— the entire Council, not just a representative of the Council, the entire Council issued this statement, all speaking in unison, just now, over the phone: that Night Vale citizens are prohibited from discussing any lights or sounds coming from Radon Canyon this past weekend, and that they should just stop remembering Pink Floyd shows altogether. The Council reiterated that there is no way that they are huge Floyd fans, privately using public funds on a laser-powered séance to talk hard-rocking classic jams with the ghost of original front man Syd Barrett, and that Syd wouldn’t even say anything juicy anyway, because he is such a gentleman, and an artist. This did not happen at all.

So, listeners, we urge you to look away from Radon Canyon. Avert your eyes, ears, and memories from that which is no longer allowed you. Comfort and distract yourselves with dense food and television programming.

As the old adage goes, “A life of pain is the pain of life. And you can never escape it, only hope it hides unknown in a drawer like a poisonous spider and never comes out again, even though it probably will in unexpected and horrific fashion, scaring you from being able to comfortably conduct even the most mundane, quotidian tasks.” Or, at least, that’s how my grandparents always phrased it.

And now, the weather.

[“This Too Shall Pass” by Danny Schmidt.]

10.12 – Feral Dogs

Ladies and gentlemen, good news. Mayor Pamela Winchell called a press conference moments ago, declaring an end to our dog pack terror. The mayor announced that the dogs were not actually dogs. Just some plastic bags caught in the breeze that people mistook for wild dogs.

“There are no wild dogs in Night Vale,” she said, “and if there were, they’d be sweet little dogs with big, meaningless eyes and tongues like flypaper.” The plastic bags, meanwhile, have been safely returned to the dog park from whence they came, and which is to remain unknowable and unremembered.

Journalists asked about the injuries and aftermath of this morning’s dog-pack-related crimes and injuries. The mayor responded with a hollow stare. She promptly shook the podium off its base and whispered through gritted teeth, “Plastic bags. Plastic. Bags.” The Sheriff’s Secret Police then ethically kettled the pool of reporters, gently coercing them with pepper spray. Most were taken away peacefully in handcuffs and black hoods.

Thank goodness it was all a misunderstanding. Dear listeners, I don’t want to say I told you so… but wasn’t I right when I said we were a determined, resilient little town? In the face of wild beasts, we did not crumble. We did not back down. We stood eye to eye with violence and it blinked first.

Stand proud, Night Vale! Be afraid on the inside, of course. You are, after all, your own downfall. But stand proud against those predators that would harm your family.

And that is our show. Thank you for listening, listeners. Stay tuned next for the popular advice program “Dr. Brandon.” This week, Dr. Brandon offers a step-by-step on how to remove your own appendix without surgery.

The sky tonight is a soft, quivering green. The wind is calm, but prepared. Get your sleep, Night Vale, and don’t forget to dream. Good night.

12.2 – The Candidate

First, the news. Old Town Night Vale residents are complaining about extremely noisy sunsets. Several agitated citizens are pushing for the City Council to do something about the solar shrieking every evening for the past few weeks. One homeowner described the sound as ‘the parched cries of sad buzzards or perhaps even the unholy voice of Old Scratch himself’.

The City Council, speaking in unison at a televised press conference, said that the noise is just the windmill farms that litter the unfortunate wastelands of Desert Bluffs, and that the noises do not fall under Night Vale jurisdiction. Walton Kincaid, president of the community group Soundproof Old Town, said that the windmills can’t possibly be the source of the noise, as they are non-existent and also don’t work, because of Desert Bluffs’ staggering incompetence. The City Council called a second press conference, wherein they all wordlessly stared down Kincaid for fourteen uninterrupted minutes. Their dark eyes tore holes straight through the community spokesman, metaphorically speaking, until his soul was compacted into what looked like a partially chewed black-eyed pea. Literally.

To date, only Old Town residents have reported hearing these inconceivable noises every evening as the sun crosses the indifferent horizon. And the noises seem to be taking their toll. There have been two heart attacks, twelve cases of significant muscular atrophy, and at least two dozen claims of folks growing third eyes, including Kincaid himself, who had an arachnid-like eight eyes when he spoke before City Council yesterday morning. No other neighborhood can hear the sounds.

I spoke to Simone Rigadeau in the Earth Sciences building at Night Vale Community College about the scientifically fascinating story, and she called it a simple case of celestial ‘just desserts’. Full disclosure, listeners: Rigadeau does not work in Earth Sciences. She is a transient living in the recycling closet of the Earth Sciences building, and she collects cans as pets. There is another hearing scheduled at 4 a.m. tomorrow, on the highest ledge overlooking Skeleton Gorge, which can only be accessed by government helicopters. All previous endeavors to scale the cliffside by rock-climbing enthusiasts have failed in extravagantly gory fashion. The Council issued a statement wishing Kincaid luck in attending this mandatory meeting.

14.2 – The Man In The Tan Jacket

Happy New Year, Night Vale!  Last night’s fireworks extravaganza at the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area was beautiful.  This is despite the fact that the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area never really existed, and was in no way a multi-million dollar failure of municipal planning.  And just because the only things remaining on the premises are several large piles of rubble and a red sign reading “NOTHING IS HERE.  NOTHING WAS EVER HERE” does not mean that they failed to correctly use tax dollars to build a harbor, a waterfront, or a recreation area.  Anyway, the fireworks over the city-made sign were lovely. Happy 2013.