This just in on DrawbridgeGate. The City Council said that, in response to this week’s collapse, they will increase the project budget by twenty million dollars over the next fourteen years, the new timeline for the bridge. Money for these extra expenses will come from school lunch programs, a 65% hotel tax, and a $276 bridge toll, which will be discounted to $249 with E-Z Pass.
And now for a station editorial.
Large, expensive projects are not uncommon in Night Vale. We are a patient but resilient little city. We have big dreams. Sometimes scary, unforgettable dreams that repeat on the same date every year and are shared by every person in town. But we make those big dreams come true. Remember the clock tower? It took eight years and 23 million dollars to build, and despite its invisibility and constant teleportation, it is a lovely structure that keeps impeccable time. It’s a classy signature for Night Vale’s growing skyline, unlike that hideous sports arena Desert Bluffs built last spring. Desert Bluffs can’t do anything right. That’s where Steve Carlsberg belongs. God, what a jerk.
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.
The following is a test of the Emergency Dream Broadcast System.
[Creepy music plays. Cecil speaks in a low voice.]
In the event of an actual emergency, you would just now be experiencing a dream in which you were in the neighborhood where you grew up, only all the houses are now black, featureless cylinders. Just row after row of these blank dark cylinders, stretching out around you. You are home, but you are also somewhere from whence you will never find home again. There is someone waiting for you at the end of the longest street. You know that, although you do not know who. You try to run down the street and it grows longer and longer. You pass by one cylinder in particular and know that it’s your house. You stop running. You approach the blank face of the cylinder, its surface seeming to devour light and sound. You reach out and you are inches from touching it. Just then you hear a ding. You look up to see words in the sky. “POSSIBLE FLASH FLOODS” they say. “ALERT VALID UNTIL 3 PM.”
[Cecil speaks in a cheerful voice.]
Once again, this has been a test of the Emergency Dream Broadcast System.
John Peters, you know, the farmer? He reports finding an old oak door standing unsupported by any other structure out in the scrub lands. He says he’s sure it wasn’t there yesterday, or pretty sure, anyway. As sure as he can be since the accident. Apparently there is knocking from the door, as if there were someone from some other side that does not exist in our narrow, fragile reality trying to get in.
He has added several deadbolts and chains to the door on both sides, unsure as to which direction the door opens, which is, by the way, a huge design flaw. One should always know which way a door opens merely by looking at it, if the designer has done their job, and this holds true whether it’s a bank of glass doors at the mall, or an unspeakably old wooden door leading to other worlds than these.
John, meanwhile, says he will keep a sleepless vigil upon the door, as any sleep merely leads to dreams of blurry shapes in the dim distance, advancing, hissing, upon this vulnerable planet. He also says the imaginary corn is coming in real good, and we should have a nice crop to choose from soon, especially now that it will be available for sale at the Green Market.
Now, in the news. After several months of protests from ordinary Night Vale citizens of stout and sturdy character, the City Council has announced several improvements for the public library. These improvements are the following: an entrance is being constructed at the front of the building, so we will no longer have to enter by waking up between two shelves in a dizzy haze, unsure of how we got there, and then wandering around, trapped, until we wake with a start in our own beds, covered with sweat, and with a few books we checked out on our nightstand. Drinking fountains are being installed in the lobby, as well as dunking chambers, and a state-of-the-art fainting pool. Librarian repellent dispensers are being placed throughout the building. Remember, if approached by a librarian, keep still. Do not run away. Try to make yourself bigger than the librarian. Finally, the children’s section is getting beanbag chairs. That is all.